Democratic Sentinel, Volume 19, Number 47, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 29 November 1895 — A COLDEN DREAM [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

A COLDEN DREAM

BY GEO-M-FENN.

CHAPTER Xlll—(Continued.)

As she was hesitating Madame Saintone brought to bear the calm matter of fact meutal pressure of the woman accustomed to be obeyed, on one who was moving in a lower grade. “Ah,” she said, smiling, “I thought you would relent. I understand your feelings, j I should be as jealous as you if some one tried to separate me from my darling Antoinette. Where is our dear Aube? ’ She walked quietly forward, and, as if ; mastered by a stronger will, Xousie led her in silence to the inner room she bad religiously set apart for her child. Aube rose from the piano as they entered, coloring vividly and then growing pale, while her mother stood at the door watching jealously every look and feeling painfully more and more that she had been creating the gap between her and the child she loved. “Ah, my darling,” cried Madame Saintone, “I have come at last.” She kissed her affectionately, but Aube made no sign. “What a delightful little nest. A piano! Books! All thoughtful little preparations made by your dear mother for her child's return. There, have I not been patient? I should have been here before,” she continued, seating herself in a lounge and arranging her dress while Aube stood by, and Nousie closed the door and seemed to keep guard lest her child should be stolen from her, “but ’Toinette said you two ought to have a few days together undisturbed.” “It was very kind of you. Madame Saintone, and good of you to call.” “Oh, come, my child, don’t talk like that. We must not be formal. There, go and put on your things. I see how it is; you are quite pale with keeping indoors, and you have been feeling the heat. lam going to take you for a drive where you <-an feel the sea air; then come for a few hours to dine with us, and I’ll bring you back iu the evening.” Aube looked at her in a startled way, and then at her inother, who remained a silent and watchful spectator of the scene. “You have seen nothing of the place yet, I am sure, and if I go back to Paris and call on the dear Sisters, I shall never be able to face them if I have not done my duty by you. Come.” Nousie stood with her lips parted, and feeling as if something was constricting her heart as she told herself that she had committed a grievous error, and all her labor of these many years was to prepare her child is r another grade of life, and that from this moment Aube was going , to drift away. Yes; it was plain enough. She realized fully the difference between herself and this elegantly-dressed, polished woman with whom Aube seemed in accord. Misery, agony, despair—all fought for the possession of her breast as she felt now that she was only fit to be servant to her child, and for a moment, she was on the point of running from the room and finding some lonely spot where she could throw herself down and beat her head against the ground. But as she gazed wildly at Aube, their eyes met, and there was so soft and gentle a look directed at her that her breast heaved, her great love prevailed once more, and she said to herself: “Why not? I have been her servant and slave all these years. Why should it not continue now if it will make her happy? Is she not my life?” “Why, my child,” cried Madame Saintone, with a forced laugh, “how strange you look. Oh, I see you have some nonsense in tlrvt pretty head about obligation and not wrshing to trouble me. Quite school etiquette, that, and all very well in Paris: but here we are more free and neighborly. Aube, my darling. I have to give you your first lesson in Haytian hospitality, so to begin with, iny dear, my horses and carriage are at your service whenever you like. We must mount you. and ’Toinette and you can go for long rides together.” At that moment a jealous suspicion flashed across Nousie’s brain, for she recalled meeting ’Toinette on horesback nearly two years before, and she was riding with her brother Etienne. If Aube went with Madame Saintone, she would meet this man. “Don't you think so, Madame Dulau?” Nousie started and gazed at her wildly. “I said,” continued Madame Saintone. with a smile, in a voice full of goodhumored condescension, “do you not think our dearest Aube would look charming in a riding habit?” Nousie's lips parted, and Madame Saintone said to herself, “Poor woman; I can lead her as I like.” Then aloud, as Aube crossed toward her mother, “That’s right, my dear. Do not hurry, and make yourself hot, and pray let there be no more formality between us. Y’our dear mother wishes you, I can see, to make friends with our people, and it will be better for you, of course.” “And she will meet Etienne Saintone, the man who came here that day," thought Nousie; and with her eyes dilating she recalled the bribe he had given her, and what had followed when he and his friend kept their appointment. She was recalling all this with the agony at her heart increasing as the possibility of Saintone seeing and loving her child flashed across her, and quite heedless of her daughter’s words ns A übe laid a hand upon her arm. she now caught her to her side and held her fast. “What?” she said, wildly; and she looked fiercely in Aube’s eyes. “I said that it was kind and thoughtful of Madame Saintone to come and make this proposal; but will you tell her, dear, as I did, that I have come back homo to you, to be with you, and that I cannot accept her offer.” “My dearest Aube,” cried Madame Saintone, holding out her hands. “I am saying what I am sure my dear mother wishes,” said Aube, gently, “and it is what I feel. Thank you. Madame Saintone, I am very grateful—indeed I am —for all your care of me during the voyage, but I must decline.” “My dear Madame Dulau,” said the visitor, “it leally is your duty to help your child. Do not, pray, stand in her light. Indeed, all this will be for her good.” Nousie felt constrained again. Was it right? Was it for Aube's good, and would, she stand in her light? This beautiful, ladylike girl was, she saw now, so out of place there. “Do you feel this?” continued Madame Saintone, who followed up her advantage, and spoke earnestly to the mother. “Feel this?” faltered Nousie, as she looked wildly at her child. “Stand in her light! Aube, dear. Should I? Yes. You should go.”

Aube's arms were round her. and she laid her head upon her mother's shoulder. “No,” she said softly. “Madame Saintone means kindly, but it is not right. No, Madame Saintone, I have thought all this over, and thank you all the same. Mother dear. I cannot go.” Nousie stood as if carved in stone as Madame Saintone rose, shrugged her shoulders, and raised her eyebrows, thinking the while. “I see.”,she cried, pleasantly. “’Toinette was right. 1 have still come too soon. You two are quite love-sick yet. There, I am going now to wait till all this emotion has time to calm down. Good-by, Madame Dulau. Aube, my sweet child,” she continued, kissing her, “au revoir, I am going to disappoint ’Toinette. but you will make up for it another day.” Aube shook her head, but Madame Saintone laughed. “We shall see,” she said gentlv. “(loodby.” She rustled out of the door, and mother and child stood apart now in the shaded room, listening as the chatter of the blacks outside ceased, and in imagination they saw the visitor mount into the carriage; then the wheels crushed the dusty road, the loud talking of the blacks began again, and there was a cheer. Then Nousie gazed wildly in her child’s face. “It is all true.” she said. “I shall stand in your light and keep you back.” Aube flung her arms round her neck, and nestled to her as she whispered; “My own dearest mother, you hurt me if you speak like that.” But Nousie made no sign, for Madame Saintone’s words had gone deeply home; and more and more in her heart site knew that they were true. CHAPTER XIV. The time glided by. and now that the first shock of surprise aud what nearly approached to horror had passed, Aube found her surroundings less painful,, though at times she shrank from the idolatry with which she was treated by the people who came about the place. It was little less from her mother and Cherubine, though her mother’s tenderness was now mingled with sadness. There was a deprecating apologetic feeling in all her approaches which caused Aube no little suffering, aud she strove hard to make her feel that she was happy and content.

Among the blacks aud mulattoes who came to the house, there were only two who appeared strange. One of these was the tall, handsome mulatto girl who seemed to have some strange influence with Nousie; and the other was the gigantic black with the knotted hair, who scarcely allowed a day to pass without making his appearance; and Aube noticed that he always watched her strangely, and on one occasion as she sat playing one of the old pieces which brought back her life at the convent, she saw that the room was darkened and that some one was looking in. She shrunk back into one corner of the room with her heart beating fast, for she had caught sight of the fierce black face and opal eyeballs of the man who had startled her before. Then the light came uninterruptedly again, and the dread passed away as she thought of the love of the black people for Nousie, and that the chords she had been playing had attracted the man to the window. Madame Saintone came again and again, but always to meet with similar refusals, all of which she took good teinperedly enough, announcing that she should return to the cottage until she succeeded; and her invitation had been supplemented by others brought by her son, whose visits to the cabaret were now daily. They caused Aube but little uneasiness, only vexation that Madame Saintone should be so pertinacious, for in the midst of Nousie’s passionate affection for, and worship of, her child, it was plain enough to see that thpre was a nervous expectancy and dread lest she should be won over at last, and be ready to forsake her home. Aube only encountered Saintone twice. He was enthusiastic, and aired all his graces and attractions to make an impression upon his mother's selection;, but Nousie, who watched every look and word jealously, had no cause for suffering, as it was plain enough that Saintone’s visits annoyed Aube, and he went away mortified and ready to declare that she was weak and unimpressionable, or his visits would not have so far been in vain. But after swallowing his disappointment he was ready to come to the attack again, his vanity seconding the feeling of passion lately evoked. It was a strange life, and Aube would sit by her open window at night listening to the weird sounds which came from the forest, and ready to feel at times that sooner or later she would aWuken from her last dream. Then she would sigh aud think that it was no dream, and sit and recall her peaceful life at the convent, her happy days with Lucie, and a faint glow would flush her cheeks at the thought #f Paul. Then the hot tears would come as in her’•heart she felt that she might some day have loved him, but that this was indeed a dream never to be realized—a something pleasant belonging to the dead past. She had written to the lady superior and to Lucie twice since she had been out; there, but her letters were guarded. The allusions to her mother and her home were brief, but she dwelt at length upon the beauty of the country and the tender love showered upon her by her mother and her old nurse. But there was no mention of her position, and the agony she had suffered—no word to show that she was not happy. “Why should I speak of my disappointment and the dissipation of all my illusions?” she asked herself. “I built up all those castles in the air; it is not her fault that they have all come tumbling down." CHAPTER XV. Nousie was seated at the back of her buffet one morning when all without was glorious sunshine, and in her heart all looked dark. The place and her avocations had suddenly grown distasteful, she hardly realized to herself why; and the great object of her life achieved, she sat wondering why it was that it had not brought her joy. There were endless things to distract her. She was jealous of Madame Saintone, and she shuddered when Etienne came, but always after their departure she communed with herself as to whether she ought not to forgive the past and en-

courage her child to accept the intimacy at all events with Madame Saintone, who could offer her social advantages such as were wanting now. Then she thought »f leaving the place altogether and beginning a new life, but these thoughts were cast aside despairingly, for if she did this, her income would cease, and worst of all. the gap between her aud her child would not be bridged. “I can see it—l can see it.” she sighed. “My poor darling: she is straggling hard tp love me. I never thought of it, but she is so different, aud I call never be anything else but what I am.” Her musings that morning and the thoughts which always came to her when she was'aloue were interrupted by the entrance of Eugenie and the great black, who. after making sure that they would not be overheard, seated themselves. the black refreshing himself with a glass of rum. and Genie leaning over the buffet counter to speak in a low tone to Nousie. “Where is Cherubine?” she asked. “Gone into the town.” “She has not been up to ns lately.” “No: she has been so busy here.” “Ah. yes. with the pretty lady from over the sea.” “Yes,” said Nousie uneasily, and, avoiding further allusions to her child, she entered at once into the business of her visitor's call, receiving certain orders from her which she undertook to fulfill. Then the woman arose, made a sign to the black, and he followed her without a word for some distance along the road, till they were quite out of sight of Nonsie's home, when she pointed up a side path. “Go on, now,” she said. “You coming?” “Not yet. Go on. and don't watch me.” The black laughed rather consciously, and turned up the path, to go for some distance before turning sharply round, and he was about to plunge in among the trees as if to retrace his steps, when he became conscious that the mulatto girl had followed him a little way, and was watching to see if he really,went. ’ The black laughed and went on again, while, after making sure that she was not being watched in turn, the girl returned to the road, and sat down where she could command the way to the port and see who came. (To be continued.)