The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1896-09-24
THE FLASH THAT TOLD THE TALE.

/ i
a pleasant house in Broomtield street
"A quite, forgotten street, whose
| houses as well as their occupants were
generally characterized by an air Of
shabby gentIlity.
As ] myself might be classed under
this head. the place suited me. In
especial / enjoyed sitting at my
windows which were at the back Of
the house, and shaded by tall elm,
while knitting or sewing. in the fash
| ion Of maiden ladies who have little TO
occupy them, ! sometimes lei my eyes
wander over the gardens between me
| and the rear of the houses on the next
| street.
[ remember how, in the spring. I
watched the fruit trees budding, and
marked the deepening green and the
thickening foliage, until in June the
row Of houses had become quite shut
out from my view.
Only in the house exactly facing
me were two windows visible through
! n chance opening in the trees, with d
partial view of a broad walk running
down the middle OF the garden and
overshadowed by "A trellis arbor of
morning glories.
BY natural instinct my eyes often
turned to the only two windows which
the summer foliage had left exposed
| to my view. and IN this way | soon
learned to know something Of the oc
cupants of the house.
Every morning. about eight o'clock.
a staid woman would open the green
! shuttGrs, shake a rug or two ont of
! the windows, and then employ her
self il sweeping and arranging the
apartment; finally setting 4 little
round breakfast table near the win
| dow.
Then there would appear dark
| complexioned, little old lady, leaning
on the arm of a fair young girl who
would pour out her tea, butter her
roll, and after the repast read the
papers TO her. Occasionally they
would walk in the garden. the girl
supporting the old lady and holding
a big umbrella over her head to keep
| of the sun.
a sharp old lady she seemed 10 be,
at times scolding the gardener about
the flower beds and the fruits; and
even in her evident intirmity showing
the imperious manner of one accus
| toned to having her own way.
| Sometimes / would see the girl
seated near the window, reading
aloud until the old lady, would drop
asleep. Then she would sofly close
the book and look out wcarlly and
half sadly upon the garden, as though
longing for fresh air and liberty.
SO it continued until the end of
July, when a fresh actor appeared on
the scone gay, handsome, young
fellow, whose light ringing laugh
sometimes reached my ear, as he sat
at the window chatting. When he
came in, the girl would put her book
down and take up her sewing; and
, though she rarely looked up or spoke,
It seemed to me that he was always
observing her as they sat at the two
windows facing each other. After r
while she would leave the room on
his entrance. and from this time [ OBJ
served that there appeared to be
| something wrong between the old
lady and the young man, And one
day | saw the old lady hand him a
roll of bank bills, which he first
, counted on his knee then placed in
his pOcket-book, and went away with
lighter step and more cheerful
look. But | never again saw the girl
there; probably she had been sent
away.
On inquiry, | learnt from my land
lady, Mrs. Wortham, something about
the people in the succeed house.
The little old lady was a Madame
Castine, the widow of once wealthy
French gentleman. She had still
some of the wealth remaining, but
boarded it with great parsimony, and
having no relations of her own whom
she cmed for, had announced her
intention OF leaving all she possessed
to her late husbands nephew, Eugene
Arnold
Ihls Was the young man whom l
had seen at her windows-now lust
returned from some business wander
ings in the far west, where unfOrtun-
ately he had fallen in with rough
companions and led a somewhat villa
life.
Il knew him when he was Il boy"
my landlady said, for he would often
| come over the garden wall and play
with my boys. He was bright.
dashing sort of a fellow. somewhat
impatient and reckless, but generous,
| and full Of fun and frolic. | dare
say he'll get over his wildness in
time. As for the young lady, Ma
dame companion, she's Of a good
family, but since her fathers death,
| dependent, with her mother. upon
| their own eXertions. The two are
living now in lodgings in this street.
Mrs. Meredith taking in sewing, and
her daughter. Miss Alice, teaching in
| a school. I've heard that Madame
Castine sent her away because she
suspected that her nephew was be
coming too much Interested in her"
After this | never saw Madame but
once. 1t was on bright, still, sultry
August evening and the windows
| opposite mine We're wide open to let
in what breath OF air was stirring.
Near one of them SAT- Madame before
her desk, and at the other her neph-
ew
| Presently as l glanced again in
that direction, my eyes were met by
a flash and glitter, and | saw that
it came from something the old lady
was holding IN her hands, before the
eyes of her nephew, turning it to and
fro IN the light of the setting sun.
Diamonds they must be; nothing but
| diamonds could emit such wonderful
rays; and | fornd myself speculating
upon why she kept them, and what
she intended to do with them. and
why she did not sell them. such folly
| it appeared that she should retain
L