The citizen., 1914-04-03
CHAPTER XVI.
The Finest Thincs,

Endurance, Francois own negro boy.
brought a note to Roanoke house on a
morning five days after. 1t read:
MY Dear Miss Hampton:
THE doctor has given me permis-
sion to ride tomorrow and l wish to
ride to Roanoke house before all 9TH
er places. Will mademoiselle see me?
Will mademoiselle permit me to see
her for a short time alone? I await
anxiously a word from you, and l am
your servant,
FRANCOIS BEAUPRE."
Mademoiselle sent a fair sheet of
paper with a few unsteady scratches
across 1t, and sat down to live over
1t was accomplished. The colonel had
ridden to Norfolk for the day-had
Francois known of that, one wonders?
Lucy, waiting in that small stately
study with the dim portraits and the
wide vague view across the fields of
the James river, heard the gay hoof
beats of Aquarelle pound down the
gravel under the window, heard Fran
co.'s deep gentle voice as he gave the
horse to Sambo, and waited one min
ute more, the hardest minute of all.
Then the door had opened and he stood
there-the miracle, as it seems at such
moments to woman, possibly to a
man-of all the gifts and qualities
worth loving.
He had made his precise bow, and
she had heard his voice saying gently:
Good morning, mademoiselle," and
the door was closed; and they were
alone together. In flash she felt that
it could not be endured, that she must
escape. She rose hastily.
'I'm sorry 1 must go; cannot
stay"
But Francois had laughed and taken
her hand and was holding it with a
lender force which thrilled her. He
understood. She knew he understood
the shame and fear of woman who
has given love unasked; she was safe
In his hands; she knew that. With a
sigh she let her fingers rest in his and
sat down again and waited.
Dear Mademoiselle Lucy" said the
deep kind voice, my first friend in
Virginia, my comrade, my little
scholar"
Why did Lucy grow cold and quiet
at these words of gentleness? Fran
co.'s was sitting beside her, holding
her hand in both his, gazing at her
with the clearest affection in his look.
Yet she braced herself against she did
not know what. The voice went on
with its winning foreign infections, it's
slip of English now and then, and its
never-to-b -be-described power of reach
ing the heart.
"See, mademoiselle," said Francois,
I'VE are too real friends, you and !, to
have deception between us. We will
not pretend, you and |, to each other
is it not, mademoiselle? Therefore l
shall not try to hide from you that |
heard that day those words so wonder
full which you spoke to me so unwor-
thy. / have thought of those words
ever since, mademoiselle, as ] lay i'll
with this troublesome arm; ever since
all the time. My heart has been full
of a-gratification to you which cannot
be told. shall remember all my life;
shall be honored as no king could
honor me, by those words. And be-
cause you have so touched me, and
have SO laid that little hand on the
heart of me, am going to tell you, my
dear comrade and scholar, what is
most secret and most sacred to me-"
In as few words as might be, he told
her of the peasant child who had been
lifted out of his poverty-bound life
with such large kindliness that nc
bond which held him to that poor. YET
dear life had been broken; who had