The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1898-11-19
A few stems from her a young girl wa

hysy writing at a rosewood desk. She
worked rapidly, pnnctuating the phrases
with graceful movements of the head, as
though adlniring the delicate black char
acters which, without speaking, expressed
SO much.
She was graceful girl of Is, and her
1.-THE, young figure looked even more grace
full than it's won't, emerging from the vo-
luminous paniers of her brocaded gown,
while the velvet about her neck and the
patch upon her chin and under her left
eye appeared indeseribably black against
her milk white skin.
in the name of heaven, Doris, my
child, how do yoa find SO much to say to
the dukef'' lazily demanded the old lady.
All, aunt, dear, have not yet written
half as much as he wrote to you, replied
Doris, with a smile 1.-THE duke must IN
deed be passionately in love with you to
pen such pretty speeches, and believe
yes, I really believe--that you will be
happy with him. Such sentiments bespeak
q bright mind and noble heart.
1.-THE heart of a bailiff, the mind of
coachman, my beauty. All, if you were
but 40 years older
Still smiling, Doris sealed her letter,
then seated herself by the window, where
she dreamily watched the clouds. She did
not dream, however, that she was 40 years
older, but that she received letters as low
ing as those of her aunt and that the Duke
de Troncantique was just 40 years younger
than now
Twelve months rolled. by, and the day
was near at hand for the consummation Of
the marriage when, one morning, the duke
landed at the chateau and earnestly re-
quested the marquise to meet him at the
hazel copse. The marquise consented, but
upon arriving at the rendezvous-ah,
thrice accursed mischance the duke was
suddenly seized with an attack of govt,
besides suffering death from an old wound
glorious souyenirsof Fontenoy.
'sCleante, my boy, there remains but
one thing to BIO DONE" he cried. $50
yourself to the hazel copse and be the
bearer of my regrets ~
The young man obediently departed on
the instant, and, singular to say, his heart
throbbed at the suggestion of meeting her
who had SO filled his thoughts.
1T is time for this nonsense to end,
heesaid, taking himself to task. "A sight
of the marquise will dispel my dreams. !
know she has white hair, an ungraceful
form, and am not even sure that she does
not limp"
Cleante had hardly reached the hazel
copse when he caught glimpse at the end
of the road of somber hued gown.
All, he whispered, tthe rose colored
paper was only is years old at most, but
this dead leaf frook is a sexagenarian at
least" However, he could but avow that
the delicate silhouette outlined against the
trees was by no means BENT nor was there
the least halt in the gait.
She was approaching him nearer, yet
nearer-the old lady
Unfortunately her head was bowed and
her eyes fixed on the pebbles of the walk,
SC that nothing was visible save her white
hair, drawn back under the hood of dark
brown cloak. The hair, however, was GER
tainly very white After scrutinizing the
wrinkled face, the faded eyes, the weary
mouth, he would smile at his folly.
But while he looked the unknown raised
her head, and he saw that her eyes spar
killed., her skin was smooth, her lips fresh,
and that it was powder and not age that
had whitened her blond hair.
Shortly after the hour for the rendez-
yous the marquise declared that a head
ache from which she had been suffering
was better and took the path. to the hazel
copsc, intending to secrete herself in the
forest and witness the discontinue of the
duke at her nonappearance.
what will my little simpleton say to
the old dotards" she queried, thinking
aloud.
Walking softly, Mime. de Souchevieille
entered the underwood, but paused, star
tied, for just in front of her, moving cau-
tiously like herself, there came the duke.
The two former adversaries stared at one
another in alarm for second and then si-
simultaneously turned their eyes upon the
crossroads of the hazel copse.
There insects lowered about the opening
flowers that perfumed the air, the sum,
shine filtered through green leaves and,
seated near each other, hand in hand, sat
Cleante and Doris, smiling into one an
others eyes.
ST love you, Doris, Cleante was saying.
"And, Cleante, love you," murmured
Doris.
In the Towering hazel trees above them
there was medley Of bird notes.
For moment the Duke de Troncantique
and the Marquise de Souchevieille stood
as though rooted to the spot, with eyes and
ears for naught else save the sweet mys-
terry before them. Then, recalled to their
own paltry affairs, they cried with one
voice:
tsThese two children are our neirs.
Why not consent to their union, settle the
hazel cupse upon them and SO end our
long CONTROVERSY" rs.fsx.
And they both added in petto, with
touching unanimity: fss
"Thank God, my pride is appeased
without the need of marrying P-From |
the French For Short Stories
John Aliens True Story.
II &c a dahatahla n1lastinn among his |