Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1912-12-11

Hush! We are growing sentiments
all warned the mother. Besides, /
believe we are attracting attention"
Her glance swept a half-circle COM
placently.
Pardon me! I should be sorry to
draw attention to you, knowing how
you abhor it."
"My child, learn from me; temper is
the arch-enemy Of smooth complex
ions. 1ones-it makes you laugh"
'It is homely, honest name"
81 grant that But a Percival Alger-
non Jones!" Mrs. Chedsoye laughed
softly. 1t was one CT those pleasant
sounds that caused persons within
hearing to wait for it to occur again.
Come; let US go up 20 the room. 1t
is dull, dusty journey in from Port
Said"
Alone, Fortune was certain that for
her mother her heart knew nothing
but hate. Neglect, Indifference, in
justice, misunderstanding the chill
repellence that always met the least
outreaching of the child's affections,
the unaccountable disappearances,
the terror Of the unknown, the blank
wall Of ignorance behind which she
was always kept, upon these hate had
builded her dark and brooding re-
treat. Yet never did the mother come
within the radius of her sight that she
did not fall under the spell of
strange fascination, enchanting, fight
against it how she might. A kindly
touch Of the hand, single mother
smile, and she would have flung her
arms about the other woman's neck.
But the touch and the mother-smile
never came. She knew, she under
stood; she wasn't wanted, she hadn't
been wanted in the beginning; to her
mother she was as the yourg Of ami
mails, interesting only up to that time
when they could stand alone That
the mother never made and held
feminine friendships was in nowise
astonishing. Beauty and charm, such
as she possessed, served Immediately
to stimulate envy in other women's
hearts. And that men of all stations
in life flocked about her, why, it is
the eternal tribute demanded of beau
ty. Here and there the men were not
all the daughter might have wished.
Often they burnt sweet f1attery at her
shrine, tentatively; but as she coolly
stamped out these incipient fires,
they at length came to regard her as
one regards the beauty of a frosted
window, as a thing to admire and
praise in passing. One ache always
abided; the bitter knowledge that had
she met in kind smile for smile ard
jest for jest, she might have been her
mothers boon companion. But deep
back in some hidden chamber of her
heart lay secret dread of such a
step, a dread which, whenever she
strove to analyze it, ran from under
her investigating touch, as little balls
OF quicksilver run from under the
pressure of a thumb.
She was never without the comforts
OF life. well-fed. well-dressed we'll
housed, and often her mother flung
her some jeweled trinket which (again
that sense of menace) she put away,
but never wore. The bright periods
were when they left her in the little
villa near Mentone, with no one but
her old and faithful nurse. There,
with her horse, her books and her
flowers, she was at peace Week into
week and month into month she was
let be. Never a letter came, save
from some former schoolmate who
was coming over and wanted letters
OF Introduction to dukes and duchess
es. If she smiled over these letters
it was with melancholy; for the dukes
and duchesses, who fell within her
singular orbit, were not the sort to
whom one gave letters of introduction
Where her mother went she never
had the least idea She might be in
any of the great ports of the world,
anywhere between New York and
Port Said. The major generally dis
appeared at the same time. Then,
perhaps, she'd come back from
pleasant tram-ride over to Nice and
find them both at the villa, maid and
luggage. Mayhap a night or two. and
off they'd go again; never a word
about their former journey, uncom-
municative, rather quiet. These alb
sences, together with the undemOn-
strative Temperatures, used to hurt
Fortune dreadfully. 1t gave her a
clear proof of where she stood, exactly
nowhere. The hurt had lessened with
the years, and now she didn't care
much. Like as not, they would drag
her out of Eden for a month or two,
for what true reason she never could
quite fathom, unless it was that at
times her mother liked to have the
daughter near her as a foil.
At rare intervals she saw steel-eyed,
grim-mouthed men wandering up and
down before the gates of the Villa
Fanny, but they never rang the bell,
nor spoke to her when she passed
them on the street If she talked OF
these men, her mother and the major
would exchange amused chances, moth
an