The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1901-07-13

consent of the woman with whom
she lodged. The sum he put into her
hands would more than requite her
for any loss she might suffer through
Pansy's fiower-selling. From the
woman, too, he learned something
more about the child's history. Her
parents were artists; the mother had
eked out living by painting flower
pictures on wood, after her hus-
hands early death, which had oc-
CURED before Pansy's birth. Then,
when the little girl was about six
years of age, two short years before,
she, too, had laid down the weary
burden of life, and the child was left
alone.
OF his new within Rush Travers said
nothing. II leaked out, however,
among his fashionable acquaintance
that he was interested in little child,
but all supposed it some relative, and
looked upon it as a passing caprice.
He wished that it should be so. He
did not want curious eyes prying
into the past of one whose future
he intended to make his care.
The world saw little of him in these
days. 1t almost seemed to him like
coming home, now that he knew little
feet would run to welcome him, lit
tie arms clasp themselves about his
neck; or later, a little curly head rest
OH his shoulder, while the lids
dropped over the pansy eyes, in hap
py, careless slumber.
The old housekeeper alone shared
his secret. She had abused him
roundly at first, as was her privilege.
Was he not to her as her own boy?
But ere "a hours had, passed little
Pansy had crept into the kind old
heart; and in the night she had risen
from her own bed, and stolen into
the room adjoining hers, to see that
the clothes were carefully tucked
about the little form.
1t was new thing to the child,
this watchful care, but she grew and
expanded under it like some beautiful
| flower.
No one detected her in an untruth.
She avowed her faults boldly. She
laughed, she sang, she cried, as other
| children; yet about her was n singu-
lar charm, half-sadness, strangely
unlike the sarelessness of childhood.
Thus two years rolled away, and
again Rush Travers determined to go
abroad. Pansy must be educated,
too, but he knew now what he meant
to do with her future. The child was
dear to him as his own, and his own
she should be. He would give her
such an education as his own daugh-
ter should have had, had he possessed
one. He would make her brilliant
woman. She. should be worthy OF
some man whom he would choose for
her husband. She would never know
loneliness more, and in the fullness
of her life's promise he would for
get the emptiness of his own.
"Uncle Rush." she called him. The
past was already to her like dream.
She parted from him in bitter tears
when he left her at her new home,
the school at which she was to be
| educated.
Little did Madam Arnaud dream
that she was receiving among her
select and fashionable pupils street
| flower-girl. Was the girl not the
niece and ward of the aristocrat? She
had never welcomed pupil with
greater pride, nor did the years, as
they came and went. lead her for one
moment to suspect the truth.
Among all this fair bevy of girls
none were so fair as she who owed
the smooth outer current of her
life to Rush Travers' passing caprice
The deep blue eyes had borrowed even
more Of the pansy's purple tint; the
bright rose-fush of health was on
her cheeks; the rich carmine natures
brush alone can paint was upon her
lips. In the sunny waves of the chest.
nut hair played CLEANS of ripping
gold. Her hands and feet were small
and dainty. Her figure had developed
INTO exquisite grace.
The eight years of study had
marked themselves upon the lovely
face in its bright expression and
sparkling intelligence. Rush Travers
might well be proud of her to whom
he had given his proud old name. II
all this time he had seen her but
once-but once he had returned tc
his native land.
In the twilight he stood awaiting
her in Madam Arnaud's private room;
but, when the door opened. he started
at the radiant vision which entered.
She threw herself upon his breast
with glad sob, then started back.
"Uncle Rush." she said, question
ingly, ''you are not glad to see me?"
He had recovered himself by then
and welcomed her warmly: but some
thing had arisen between them hel
womanly perception was first to rec
ognize. Already this meeting, t.
which she had looked forward will
such gladness, was married.
From all sides, that night, Mr.
Travers was met with congratulation
on the beauty and brilliance of hi
ward. who had received the frs
J honors of her class. Was the oil
cynicism growing on him, that h
} turned from ii all as though weary?
For the first time, glancin!
casually in mirror, he discovere'
! that the thick, brown hair wa
| streaked with gray, and the Sigh