The Black Hills union. [volume] (Rapid City, Pennington County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1889-1904, 1897-09-24

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and a place to lay my head until I had
accomplished my mission. I dined,
for was beginning to feel the effects
of the eXhausting journey. Then I
walked out, and took stock of my sur
roundings.
st. SeEgin was, as I had been in
! formed, q small decaying village. Some
OF the houses were picturesque in their
way, but many We're half in ruins.
There was a church, whose size was, of
course, utterly disproportioned to the
village. There were the shops neces-
sary to supply the humble needs of the
scanty population. So far as l could
see, there was nothing else.
struck my heel on the dusty, sandy
path. Was it for a life in such a place
as this that Viola had left me? Had she
given up all the comforts and luxuriet
with which I would have surrounded
her, to hide with the partner of her
flight in a wretched hole where she
could see none save rough fishermen,
peasants and such like? II so, her love
for Grant must be more than mortal to
bring about such a sacrifice of all that
women, from the time of Eve down.
ward, have been credited with longing
after. These questions, and the only
answer | could give them, did not i'm
prove the state of my mind.
1t was now growing dusk. l walked
back to the little inn, went to my room,
and asked for lights and coffee. A
broad-faced, broad-shouldered Breton
lass ministered to my wants. I en-
tered into conversation with her, and
in spite of her patois managed to under
stand her.
l asked about the place and the peo-
pie. She shrugged her shoulders. All!
but the place was decaying-going
~down-going down. Once she had heard
that people could live there and make
money; but that was hundreds of years
ago. Now, every one was poor as
poor could be. Parents could not save
their daughters dots-girls could not
save them. Besides many of the young
men went away. They went to
L'Orient and became sailors. 1t was a
rare thing for a girl to get married in
St. Seurin.
Were there no visitors-no English,
for misunderstanding in the neighbour
hood? Moves. There was one mon
sieur-he was English. He lived at
Pierre Boulay's farm-the farm Just
over the sea cliff yonder the house
nearest the sea.
His name? All! she forgot those
strange anne He was tall and hand
some He had been here, off and on
many months, He was a hereto, but
kind to the poor people. What did he
do with himself in this desolate place?
All! she knew not. True, young Jean,
old Pierre's son, said that the gentle
man shut himself for hours and hours,
writing, and the cure, who knew him,
said he was a learned man.
1t was he! My journey had not been
in vain. I longed to ask the girl if a
lady lived with him, but I forced the
question back. When T had finished
with Eustace Grant, 1 could then think
of Viola.
Where was he to be found? Was he
at the farm now? She thought not.
She had not seen him for some days.
Most days he came down the hill, and
walked along the coast-far, far along
the coast. i. monsieur wished to meet
with him, he would surely find him
there.
Yes; the coast was very fine. Some.
times artists came to paint it. Per-
haps monsieur was an artist?
She glanced at me. No doubt m,
coming had created curiosity. The
question suggested an excuse for my
staying at such a place as St. Seurin.
Yes; she had guessed. right. l was
all artist. I had come to draw pic
lures of the coast. She seemed pleased
at having guessed the nature of my oc-
cupation, and quickly left me, no doubt
to make her discovery known to all
who were interested in the matter. I
needed her no longer. I had learned
enough.
Fate seemed shaping everything to
my hand. l had learned that Grant
was almost within stones throw; that
nearly every day he took a solitary
walk along the coast. It was on the
coast, far away from fear or Interrupt
ton, that l would arrange for our meet
ing to take place. All l now wished to
guard against was a premature discov-
cry of my presence.
The next morning I stenned ont and