May Leonard

“ Cyril Fanchon! Ah me! Husband! speak to me, your wife—your Jantie!"
The wind sweeps down the street in chilly gusts; the woman wraps her jacket around her; she stumbles on, on, blindly. A railing, enclosing a dark, grim building, comes in sight and looms up in the darkness; she struggles with the weakness that overtakes her; she falls, but she is conscious, only unable to move. All her weary journey has ended here; to find the man she believes to be her husband, with a wife and family. She loves him too well to expose his crime; for the gentle looking wife's sake she will give him up ”

“ Zoe has gone up stairs to play some hymns for Mr. Vacine; in the cosy music room.
"It is queer now, when you think of it, and, by jove, what an awfully pretty girl your sister is," Ned says. He has always admired Dolores immensely, but Zoe—Zoe was so entirely different. In fact Ned is sure he will grow to be awfully fond of Mr. Litchfield's pretty wilful daughter Zoe.
The sun shines brightly on the clear, white, glistening road, covered with snow; the icicles glitter in the limbs of the leafless trees like crystal; everything is bright, cold, and sparkling. ”

“ She happens to glance up the road; oh, horrors! coming leisurely down, with his hands thrust carelessly in the pockets of a little dark blue shooting coat, and a cigar between his lips, is a man—a young man too—and, yes, he is looking at her. She misses her balance, her foot slips, and, throwing her arms wildly upward, arrives in the arms of mother earth, in any but a dignified descent.
The "horrid brute" came quickly to see if he could assist the young lady to arise; he takes her arm, and Zoe stands up, her face as red as the scarlet passion flower tucked in her belt. ”

“ I do not profess to love my husband passionately; I never could love any one or any thing very much; it is all owing, I suppose, to my selfish disposition. There is not the slightest doubt but that I am wholly beloved by my husband. I do not deserve so much goodness; I am utterly unworthy of him. Promise me, Dolores, that if ever we meet again—Heaven only knows if we ever shall—but if we do, never breathe of what has taken place here. Your face tells me I have merited your disapproval, but try and pity me, for I never had any one to teach me better, or instil good principles in my mind. ”

“ Well, once upon a time there was a castle in Italy, a beautiful, costly, grand structure. The lord of the castle was a brave, generous gentleman, honorable and true. His lady was lovely, proud, and intensely jealous of her very charming husband; she had a gentle serving maid, Christina, a girl as pure in thought and deed as the lily; they had grown up as playfellows. The Countess was very fond of her, for she was not like her other friends. The Countess would quarrel with any and every one, on account of her fiery temper; with Christina she never quarreled. ”

“ She stands there leaning her pretty plump arms on the fence and watches her sister.
The train whistle blows shrilly, and is the only noise that disturbs the sweet drowsy stillness. Then the youngest Miss Litchfield saunters idlely off, vainly trying to coax the burnt tongue with sundry ripe peaches and pears.
Dolores laughs and works on; and as the sunlight glances through the boughs of the trees, lingering with a loving touch on her pretty hair, and sparkles and glistens in the tiny diamond earstuds, which had been Blondine's last Christmas gift. ”

“ Sir Barry Traleigh's parlour, at his bachelor apartments, is lit only by the flickering firelight. It chases the dark shadows out of the dim corners, and throws a cheerful brightness over the pretty crimson and gold satin furniture. Sir Barry's little dog "pug" lies on the tiger skin rug in front of the cheerful blaze, keeping watch over his master's slippers. Mr. Litchfield and Dolores sitting there, awaiting Sir Barry's return, are not slow to enjoy the luxuries spread so lavishly about them. It is nearly five o'clock on a December afternoon, and the short day is almost gone. ”

“ James says, in a whisper; and Rea, as she stands in the hall, draws her tall figure to its fullest height, replies:
"No; I shall not refuse Jerry. As for Dolores Litchfield, I will snub her."
"My dear child," Mrs. St. James says quickly, "as I told you before, her going should not influence you, and why worry about imaginary evils; it is quite time enough when they appear, so be sensible; it is not your nature to despond."
As Rea turns to say good-bye, she cries impulsively, "Oh, Arial! what would become of me without you? I should get discouraged and give up altogether." ”

“ Perhaps he turned to look at the flower, perhaps it was to hide the smile of amusement which would curl the corners of his handsome mouth.
"Put your hair off your forehead, do, child. The person who invented the fashion of wearing one's hair all over their eyes should have been banished from all civilized lands. The only thing that will keep your father out of Heaven, Zoe Litchfield, is your persistent act of wearing bangs, for it is the only fault in you that makes him angry." ”

“ Blondine is watching the white clouds float across the azure sky, and wishing the sun may shine as brightly for the next couple of days. Sir Barry looks at the massive gold watch in his pocket, and says by the time they lunch and get ready it will be time to start. So Blondine unfurls her large white cotton umbrella, tucks Dolores' unwilling hand under her arm, and laments the smallness of the parasol's compass. If it was possible she would offer a part to Sir Barry; as it is she advises him to pull his hat well over his face, for freckles on a man's face is something Miss Gray detests. ”

“ Tell me honestly, Jantie, do you know the man here sick?"
The falling snow outside comes in spiteful little flakes, and slaps against the heavily curtained window. Jantie shivers; surely she can trust the man beside her, who has always proved her friend.
"Sir Barry, he is my husband, the man for whom I left home and everything," bitterly. "But, Sir Barry, he wronged me; for when I found him he was already married. Yes, he had a wife and two children." The voice is low. Sir Barry looks incredulous. ”

“ You have been a most faithful, affectionate sister to me, and aunt to my girls, but from you, nor no one else living, shall I take a word of disrespect about my wife." Then Miss Adeline hears the door close, and she is alone.
"Well," she says, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle in her apron, "I am terribly afraid Edward is getting a softness in the head; any man that could feel no reproach against a woman who has wronged any one, as Estelle Litchfield has wronged my poor brother, beats me more than words can express." ”

“ Sir Barry says solemnly.
Dolores gives one swift side glance at the handsome face of the man walking the other side of Blondine. He happens, at the same instant, to be looking at her. Dolores is angry at the blush she feels rising to her face. The idea of his watching her that way; it is too bad he cannot find some one else to gaze at all the time. ”

“ The little boats rock from side to side as they float, now in, now out, from their moorings, and far out a white sail glistens in the glimmering sunlight. On shore children, dark eyed, red lipped little rascals, are selling flowers—roses and orange blossoms, with quantities of violets. Little groups are sitting or loitering about, their chief object seemingly to see who can produce the largest and gayest parasol. Dolores takes in all the details of the surroundings. Probably uncle Dick and Blondine are having some fun in town ”

“ The girl's clear voice is raised in a passionate flow of rage and sorrow. They pass out of hearing, leaving Dolores pale and trembling.
Sir Barry here; and of course it is the girl Blondine had seen with him the previous afternoon; his wife, of whom he was ashamed. Of course she is his wife, and he is persuading her to go home, and promises to acknowledge her before the world some day. Ah! some day! And meanwhile he has been winning her—Dolores—heart; he, the husband of another woman. May Heaven forgive him; she never can. The sun dazzles her eyes, the day has lost its charm ”

“ She gave up all worldly ambitions; she is here in this convent, the girl who has tended him so faithfully during his illness—Sister Jean, once Jantie Mackeith. Are you listening? Is it not so?"
If Cyril Fanchon were dying, Sir Barry could not help feeling that Jantie Mackeith's hour of triumph had come. From pale to red, from red to purple, turned the face of Cyril Fanchon.
"Is that true?" Mr. Litchfield's voice is stern and reproachful. "Can it be possible this young man can be guilty of so much dishonor? impossible." ”

“ Any man, a gentleman, who would marry a negress, could not but expect some flaw in his family."
Sir Barry Traleigh turns sharply from contemplating the reflection of his own face in the mirror opposite.
"Do you say Miss Litchfield's mother was a negress?"
Mrs. St. James takes up a scarlet ball of silk from her work basket.
"Oh, well," she answers with sarcasm, "I consider Creoles and negroes the same. As I said before, the girl is not to blame, considering everything. Then her mother ran away; why, surely you heard the story. She disappeared; no one knows if she is dead or living. ”

“ James smiles languidly, endeavoring now and then to stem the current of squabbling going on between Florrie Silverstone and Gordon Aubrey. They never agree; so at last Arial gives the attempt up in despair, and turns her attention to Ned and Dolores. When at length the boat grates on the beach, three little children, with bare feet, are building castles in the sand. They are well dressed children, probably boarding here for the summer months. They gaze in wide eyed wonder at the boat and her occupants; evidently they are not accustomed to have their sandy domains intruded upon by strangers. ”

“ Rea Severn, sitting in a large invalid chair, looks out on the dreary scene. She is thinking long, and hardly, and bitterly on her past life. No one would recognize the bright vivacious Rea in the distressed looking creature sitting there, in her white dress, the dress no whiter than the wearer's face. Her eyes look as if she had cried all the brightness out of them. Rea has been very ill; at one time it was understood she could not recover. The habit of eating opium had taken full possession of her, and now she is but a skeleton of her former bright self. ”

“ James shrugs her pretty shoulders as she looks with astonishment at her young visitor, charming Rea Severn, who, as she stands before the cosy fire, tapping her small foot impatiently on the brightly polished fender, looks the original of injured dignity.
"No, but Arial, just think yourself, how more than provoking it is. What do you think possessed Jerry to invite the girl? Oh dear, the men are so green sometimes; there is no accounting for their tastes in some matters." ”

“ Jantie raises her pale face.
"Oh, Sir, nothing hurts my feelings now; sometimes I forget I have any left." Sir Barry laughs.
"A girl like you talking such nonsense; why child, your life has scarcely begun." He feels so sorry, so unutterably sorry for her.
"Tell me Jantie, have you any idea where your—where Cyril Fanchon is?" ”

“ Sir Barry Traleigh was here at Nice on business. He was very wealthy, but he was always employed by his business affairs. He believed in a man, whether rich or poor, having something with which to occupy his mind. Not an idle life did Sir Barry, the genial owner of Castle Racquette, beside many broad acres of land, lead. Castle Racquette was one of the finest estates in all Glengarry, Scotland, and very pardonable was the pride which Sir Barry entertained for his ancient, luxurious home. ”

“ James tell Sir Barry that she hoped there would not be many hills to go down, or they would certainly be dumped out of those funny little carts.
At two the party start, and Dolores sits up stairs, listening to the merry talk and laughter going on below. She will not so much as look out the window to see who are going. No one but herself knows just how much she wants to go; but she crushes the longing that arises in her heart; she will not give in now, she will keep her word. Uncle Dick has accepted her decision with strange quietness ”

“ The scene is a beautiful Italian garden. Seated in a swaying chair, on the pretty terrace, is a lady whose face people rave over, as being the image of Dolores, Sir Barry Traleigh's beautiful wife. The lady is engaged in writing a letter. The trees almost immediately opposite the terrace, conceals the indistinct form of a man watching. By the lady's side, lying with his dark curly head resting on the train of the lady's white lace dress, is a little boy, in a white embroidered frock, sleeping. ”

“ She has no smile, no word of greeting for the other occupant of the room. It is quite foreign to her to take any notice of the charity sister, whom it has been Rea's fancy to make so friendly of. Most decidedly Mrs. St. James does not approve of Sister Jean. Does it ever enter the scornful lady's mind that she may and would live to see the day when she would do anything reasonable or otherwise to be recognized by the girl over there in the window, who never raises her sweet, pale face from her sewing? ”

“ Arial is hardly prepared to see Rea take her words so coolly.
"And so he has been and gone and done it? May every happiness follow him and his pretty wife, whoever she be," are Rea's gracious words.
"I should not like to be her; in a week he will tire of her. You know he is not one of the constant sort." Mrs. St. James shrugs those beautiful shoulders of hers. She is really quite disgusted at Gordon's lack of taste. A girl with no education whatever, and in those days, too, when every person has a chance to learn, if they so please. ”