Among the Ashes; or, Doomsday (with illustration) (Christmas Supplement) [pp. A001-A032]

1872.]
A ~WiLL 0' TffB WL~r.
23
but a night; yet she bad afready become bition. lie had been able on occasions
curionsly interested in the inhabitants of to save the girl froill harsh treatment
La Grue. She decided that she would and be recalled now her amazement at
make an indefinite stay at Didans. That being so shielded, her gratitude so simnight she wrote some letters, and looked ply shown, and the frank, warm friendover papers, in her chamber. She was ship that had sprung up between them.
very much excited, and did not settle to lie had watched her at her daily work
rest until it was another day. in the kitchen, in the court-yard, every She was only in her first sleep when where, and had made sketches of her by
Stine got up to begin her daily work. stealth under every aspect. Later there
No one in the house was awake but her- had come upon hhn dreams in which he
self as she went into the garden, fetched fancied her flitting about in a home
vegetables, and prepared them for use, which should be her own, and also his;
placed saucepans on the stove, and tlien and one day, when she had been in
went into the court-yard to make ready trouble, he had spoken to her, and then
her laundiyftable for an hour's ironing. he had found his mistake. liis love had
As she trotted about the dewy garden appeared to vex her, and their friendship
and the cool, gray court-yard, she held was at an end. She was now as sad and
up her head and moved lightly, delight- reserved as when he had first set eyes on
ing in the taste of fresh air, space, and her. "It must be that I am quite Unpeace. 11cr crisp, white bodice rustled lovable," thought Lawrence, "since she
with freshness, and smelt of lavender; will rather endure unkindness than share
her little apron fiuttered~as if enjoying it. my lot."
self. She went to her ironing under the Meanwhile, Stine was working with
vines, but had hardly plaited a frill wl~en nimble fingers at her ironing-table; linshe remembered that she had not put the ens were folded, and muslins crimped,
things straight in the painting-room of the while now and again a few tears flashed
club. In a minute she was busy folding out of her eyes like sparks of fire, and
up the tangled drapery that had been used burnt her cheeks. She remembered one
in costuming a model the night before. day when a kind face had come into the
The next morning some one came into inn and someil~iug had saved her from
the room, and Stine seemed all at once a beating; she being then considered
in a great hurry, as she said: young enough to be so punished. She
Good-day, Monsieur Lawrence; you remembered how light had become her
are up early;" turning away as she tasks after that wonderful day; how the
spoke, and making haste with her work. consciousness of being protected had
"Stine, will you not put that away grown habitual to her, while the wonder
for a moment and speak to me?" swelled within her at finding herself a
I have spoken, monsieur; I have person to be so deeply respected. She
said good-day~" began to think that even a life like hers
The young man looked half sad and might come to have a beautiful side to
half angry, as she opened the door, cour- it, till that first dreadful night, when she
tesied, and disappeared. The painter sat had told herself it would be better if she
down, and began to work at his picture. should never see Monsieur Lawrence
"This place is not good for me," he again. The next day had brought the troureflected; "I shall leave it as soon as ble of her disobedience about Jacques,
possible. Elsewhere I shall have greater as well as that strange, supreme moadvantages, and be rid of heartache. Ah! ment when Lawrence, having heard of
why do I love her, when she does not it, had asked her to be his wife, and
care for me? Yet what a life I see be- had been refused. Yes, and she would
fore her in this place! Worked to death, refuse him to-morrow again, if put to it!
or wedded to Jacques, or to the owner of Flash! caine a tear on the frill she was
the nearest estarninet. I have not much ironing, so that she was obliged to crimp
to offer her, but in time I shall succeed; one inch of it over again; and Madame
we could be frugal. She need not work Van Melekelieke came scolding into the
for two of us as they work her here." court-yard.
Lawrence was alone in the world. The little Dame Anglaise dined at the
llis art was his delight, and he had left table d'kote that day. Monsieur sat at
England for the purpose of studying in the top of his board, and his wife and
one of the best Continental schools. step-daughter, a giggling girl with sharp
Pas~Ang through Dindans he had been at- features, sat beside hiiu. After dinner
true ted, first, by the quaintness of the monsieur, his wife, and daughter went
old un, and afterward by Stine's sad out to take coffee in the garden, sifting
face; and here he had been content to under an apple-tree, with a tiny table befollow his art-studies, without pushing tween them: monsieur in his white linen
on further to the higher point of his am- coat ]and scarlet skull-cap, the girl in a
gay muslin with flaming bows, madame
in brilliant gown and enormous gold
ear-rings. The ladies chatter, monsieur
smokes and drinks his coffee, and Jacques
comes into the garden and announces
that the Dame Anglaise wishes to join
their circle. She comes, she is agreeable, she gossips familiarly over their
concerns, and tells them a great deal
about her travels.
So agreeable did she make herself,
that next afternoon the stranger was invited once more to join the circle in the
garden. Never had been known so pleasant an Englishwoman.
"Monsieur and madame," said il~e
stranger, by-and-by, "I am going to tell
you a story. Yesterday I spoke of my
travels and you were good enough to be
amused; to-day I will try to relate to
you some of the most impoftaut events
of my life. I have lived under the shadow
of a great trouble for many years. For
sixteen years I have been following a
will 0' the ~-isp."
"A will 0' the wisp! " cried all the
listeners.
"It has led me from country to country, and from town to town. I arrived
here, the other night, utterly disheartened, when, lo! it sprang up again; here
-under this roof, as soon as I entered."
liere! " cried the Van Meickeliekes.
Madame shifted her chmr so flint she
sat facing monsieur, who had taken his
cigar from his mouth, and sat gazing at
her in amazement, with his scarlet skullcap a little on one side, and a slight look
of apprehension on his stolid countenance.
"Let madame proceed!
The strange old lady paused before
she began her tale, and a tragic look
swept across her dim blue eyes.
"My friends," she said, with a quiver
in her voice, "sixteen years ago, there
were living in a pleasant ~aft of England
an English genfleman and his wife, who
had very great wealth and a beautiful
home, and, up to the time of ti~e beginning of my story, they had scarcely known
what it is to grieve. They had one child,
a little girl three years old, flic idol of
both parents. They were fond of travelling abroad, and it happened once fl~at
they were in Paris on their way home;
with fl~em the child and three servents,
including the nurse, a strange and wildtempered woman. The lady was half
afraid of this nurse, yet shrank from
sending her away. The nurse was savagely fond of the child, and jealous of its
mother. One day, there was a quarrel,
springing from this jealousy, and that
evening fl~e woman walked out of the
hotel, carrying the child in her arms, as
if to give it an airing. She did not re