South Bend news-times. (South Bend, Ind.) 1913-1938, 1913-12-18
CHAPTER XVIII.
AIeSSOn i'm French.
CONTINUED from Wednesday,

CONTINUED from Wednesday,
On an evening when winter was
wearing away To cold spring, Francois
waited In the dining--oom of Roam
oke house for his scholar. It was very
still in the large house. The sharp
wind Of a March in Virginia whistled
through the bare branches of trees in
the park outside. Inside the crack
ling CT a fire of piled hickory logs
temptred with it's careless naturalness
the formality Of the fine old room.
The room had sweet and stately
beauty. a graceful stiffness like the
manners of the women who first lived
in it, "A hundred years before. The
carved white woodwork over the
doors was yellOwed to ivory: the
mantelpiece. brought from France in
1892. framed in its fiuted pillars, it's
garlands and chiseled nymphs and
shepherds. as If under protest. the
rOllicking orange of the fire. over
a mahogany sofa covered with slip
perry horsehair. hung a portrait of the
first lady Of the manor, and Francois,
sitting sOldierly erect in straight
chair. smiled as his gaze fell on it
u was so like yet so unlike a face
which he knew. There was the deli
oval chin and straight nose, and fair
loose hair. But the portrait was staid
and serious. while Lucy's face, as this
man had seen il, had kindly eyes
and a mouth smiling always. He
shook his head IL gentle amusement
at the grave dignity OF the picture.
But no. Madame-you are not so
charming as your granddaughter" he
said, addressing it aloud.
And then ne stepped across the
room 10 the fire, and held his hands
to IL and stared into It, The clock
licked firmly. the logs fell apart with
soft sliding sounds, and he stared
down at them-his thoughts far away
"a look came into his eyes as if they
concentrated on something beyond
the range OF sight, the characteristic
look OF Francois. the old look of a
dreamer. of a seer Of visions
Then Lucy stood in the doorway.
gentle charming from the slippered
feet. laced over the instep. to the
shadowy locks Of light hair on her
forehead.
GOOD evening. Monsieur am
sorry / kept you waiting. Hannibal
hurt his foot and / must find plaster
and bandage for him. But you viii
have enough of my talking even now.
Father says 7 talk a great deal. DO
J. Monsieur"
Francois stood regarding her, with
frank admiration in every muscle of
his face. He smiled the same gentle
amused smile with which he had ad-
too much for me, Mademoiselle. IL is
pleasure to me always to hear your
voice. he answered in the deep tone
Of a Frenchman. the tone that has
ever half note of tragedy, as of
some race-memory which centuries do
not Wipe out. only" he went on
speaking in French, zone must not
talk English. That is breaking the
law. you remember MaGemoiselle."
She answered very prettily in his
own tongue in words that halted 9
little. Very well, Monsieur. I viii
do my best" He still gaZed at hel
smiling. without speaking. one
could understand that. to a girl OF
more self-contained people. this oper
homage Of manner this affectionate
gectleness. might seem To mean more
than brOtherly loyalty. The girl:
pulse was beating fast as she made
an effort for conversation. "Wha
were You thinking OF as you looked a
the IRE when / came in Monsieur j
had an air of being something pleas
ant. Did. J. not say all that beauti
fuliy?" she finished in English
He corrected a lame verb with seri
Gus accuracy and she repeated the
word. and laughed happily.
But YOU haven't said vet what yOl
were thinking about"
The large brown eyes turned OF
hers. 1T was of my old home il
France, MademOiselle. when wa
very little" he said simply. a large
fire of logs makes me think Of that
Tell me about it, she begged will