Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1907-02-16

| back for anything In reason, but to fnf
| out all that we ought to have, and order n.
that an American girl knows how " do
that same! 1t seems he had q talk N our
steamer, just before we landed, with
| friend both he and trust in, and she told
him 1t was his duty to live up to his for
tune. He's known he had all this money
for nearly year past, but had no idea how
| to begin to spend 1t. And so we branched
right out in Paris. and got suite Of rooms
that royalty had before us. I went
straight of to the Only Adorable Worth,
and boug everything in the way Of gowns.
| had masters In French and singing, and
when we drove in the Bois or went to the
| galleries and shops. and everybody stared,
took to 1t as naturally as q duck to water.
| But must say it was lonesome. I longed
and longed for somebody to tell how l felt
| about 1t all in my Utmost heart.
Then my darling old daddy fell i'll, and his
| life was in danger. and all the grandeur
fell fiat as pancake. didn't care straw
| for my clothes. my carriage, my fine maid.
| even my new pearls-the whirling wheel of
life stood still, STILL and 1 heard only my
heart-beats! ! thought I was going to lose
the dearest tenderest father in the world.
and be left a poor wretched orphan, with
nothing but things to comfort me"
| She had sprung up from the rug and was
by this time seated on the couch beside
Lady Campstown and that lady's kind little
hand had found its way into hers. II the
dowager felt, at moments. q little dizzy
with the speed at which this episode of new
| acquaintance had progressed. she had only
to look across the room at the portrait Of a
| girl who would have been thirty had she
lived, but in her mothers eyes seemed, for
ever just eighteen. Maybe she would have
! been ungrateful, unloving, mondaine or de-
| vote; she might have married i'll, or died
| in bringing a child into the world. or any
might have robbed the mother of joy in
| her companonship. But, to Lady Camps
| town, her lost daughter was always young,
prosperous, lovely, beyond reproach, and for
her sake Poma1a WinStaplaV with all her
| 1mperfectionS of bringing-up upon her gol-
| den head, was forgiven much What Won
der that before they separated Posey had
received assurance that Lady Campstown
would look after her in various substantial
ways, and that Mr.. Winstanley's new mo-
tor car, ordered from Paris, being yet to
come. the girl should be invited to take her
first view of the RANT little town from the
| cushions Of Lady Campstowns well-known
old landau with the quiet black horse and
sober coachman? When they had thus
agreed to go shopping together in the
tempting if narrow and sunless, Rue d An
tibes, and Posey, for the second time, had
arisen to take her leave, her eye fell upon
an imperial photograph. framed in silver, OF
a man she recognized with a swift leap OF
the heart.
MY nephew Clandonald," said the dow
ager, heaving a little affectionate sigh.
almost all l have left to love. He is
dear fellow. and has been much sinned
against. Just now he Is somewhere IN the
Balkans loafing as he calls it, with ms ms
IrlenQ M ue MdIiol uut tiusI ne va.
come back soon. and that certain things i
hope for him will become realities. l don't
mind telling you. my dear, that there is a
young lady in the case, and that she's
countrywoman of your own. 1 have met
her. and love her already for his sake, but
there's been mischief made, and it will take
time to straighten out the tangle of my
poor Clans heart affairs, and when you
and / know each other better [ will ex-
plain. In the meantime, we won't talk OF
it. You'll be ready at 1890 tomorrow, when
l call for you? I'll take you around to the
right tradespeople and afterward well
have a little turn on the Croisette."
IAN American girl!' Posey said within
herself. TT must be said he found con-
ISOLATION very soon.' She. was conscious
of feeling rather blank.