South Bend news-times. (South Bend, Ind.) 1913-1938, 1917-07-03
The HOUSE WITH THE GREY SHUTTERS By Claire PONehen

nothing OF politics. In the home Of the valan-
mes she will surely be educated eh?" Then
he went out very quickly, and they heard him
laughing loudly TO himself as he went down the
avenue under the willows to the waiting chaise
which drove of Immediately. In the intense
ouiet-one feels such a quiet well as hears
It after traveling-that followed, madame
turned 10 Lucie and scrutinized her. Then she
gave a sad little smile. spoke some words OF
kinder welcome than any she had yet used
and led the girl away TO her room at the other
end Of the rambling old building
That night storm arose so that the wind
and the rain dashed with ugly violence against
the windows: the curtains bulged and the
candle guttered from the draught and Lucie
felt cruelty alone. Into her pillow she wept
her sorrow. and then as the candle-wick tainted
in a bath OF liquid grease and went out, Lucie
seemed 10 feel hand stretched forth to her out
OF the darkness-a hand that comforted her and
gave her strength. the hand of the young offi-
Ger she had seen for few moments only in
the Boulogne hotel few years older she
would have thrust IL away from her, scorning
her fOOlishness. but Ducie, child that she was.
chung TO a faint memory, and found comfort
beyond words
once in the night she woke, cold with fear;
in the distance a quavering voice cried within
pering a door slammed and footsteps pat
tered about with stealthy tread Then silence
Horrid tales OF haunted houses clouded about
the girls brain, until at dawn, tired out ut
terly, she fell asleep.
H.
During the months that followed that dismal
night OF her arrival Lucie never quite forgot
her fear The house, lie Ferme des Saules as
II was called Though there in truth almost
nothing of the cheerful farmyard about t. since
all was dilapidated and forsaken) remained
inscrutable she had seen IL first. True,
Madame de la Valannes, or Aunt Therese, as
IA rI0d h. yfndr oIF De-
II seemed to Lucie that the woman was wearied
by a great anxiety that never left her. Always
her head was half turned TO listen; always her
eyes swung toward the door at the slightest
sound
And so in time these movements began to
put fret upon the nerves of the child, though
indeed, she was fast growing beyond child
hood so that Lucie began TO find herself
listening for she knew not what. And in the
nighttime she frequently heard the scurry Of
those stealthy footsteps that sounded to her
like the scamper Of rats behind the wainscot
So that for the sake of her peace she took
10 wandering in the woods or over the fat
sandy stretches OF plain. From time TO time
they saw the able At first he sustained sort
of suspicion about Lucie, but presently that
died away. and his rats eyes ceased TO pierce
her with their careless glance.
1t was during her rambling one day that she
heard the soft pad of a horse cantering over the
yielding ground behind her. She turned. since
few Of the country folk hereabouts rode through
the wood wood but little better than a
thicket of saplings-for il the rattle of
accoutrements that drew her startled attention.
And then, having turned, Lucie stood still
Her heart throbbed. her startled glance became
one OF confusion and her liTnpid eye held a
shy, pleased recognition.
The soldier. for such a man 1t was who rode
along the sandy track. looked down carelessy.
Then something in the girls face arrested his
attention He knew her. yet in a sense he did
not He could not. for his manners sake re-
member where in the world he had seen her
before.
But for Lucie there was no doubt. She had
never for moment forgotten that handsome
lieutenant who had cheered her loneliness In
the hotel at Boulogne. But the lieutenant was
gallant. Half a recognition on his part,
and certainly the light of full recognition on
hers decided him. He drew rein, swung from
his saddle and bent with all the grace and
chvalry of which he was capable over the
trembling hand Of the girl.
''Mademoiselle! IL is too charming-this
meeting so unexpected" he said, and his eyes
glowed into hers with warmth
"Ah, monsieur, it is so long-since that day
of my arrival in Boulognel" sighed Lucie, and
the lieutenant instantly remembered.
80 you live in these parts. mademoiselle?
Surely il is too dull for of your gifts and
beauty" They we're walking now slowly
through the sapling plantation. the patient
horse led by his master.
Il live with my aunt, monsieur" replied
Lucie. evasively. But you-do you come often
then TO this district" She looked up the
soldier looked down. Then he laughed
"Helas, Madesmoiseue, I have been grooming
aloud at my misfortune for the past week. |
am stationed over at Moreu. I am on little
mission you understand. l console myself as
we'll as | may with the recollection that l am
serving my great leader, the First Consul. All,
but it is a dry business and one that would
not interest you. / dare wager you care moth
ing for the dull dishonesty Of politics."
Monsieur know nothing of them" laughed
Iucie spreading out her hands. So delight
fully did she spread them that it was not TO be
wondered at II the lieutenant made one Of
them prisoner nor would he release it despite
her protestations and blushngs, until the full
ransom had been paid.
Then since you know nothing of politics
and | know nothing Of the countryside, we can
be friends indeed" said the lieutenant.
II was the first of several days wherein the