Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page. It is also available as plain text as well as XML.

forced to live her life beside a creature of that type and under such an influence. He had not quite believed in the poor child at first perhaps, and because he did believe in her now he felt poignant re morse for his past injustice. "What did you do, then ?" he asked, honestly absorbed in the f story, for he was a generous and warm hearted fellow, who found most of his pleasure in these latter days in the help he could give others, to make them happier than he was himself. "I comforted her as well as I could, but I didn't know what would become of us. Then a lady who had a room next to mine in the hotel heard me crying and was very kind." "I should think she would have been," interrupted the young man. "She told me that, as my mother had lost. everything, she had better go to the direction of the Casino and get what they call a Viatique-monev to go away with. So she did ask, though it was a great ordeal to make up her mind I ~ to do it, and they gave my mother a thousand francs. Then, you know, she had no right to play - in the rooms again. She was supposed to pay her hotel bill and leave Monte Carlo. But she gave half the money to a woman she had met in the " rooms and asked her to put it on six numbers she had dreamed about. She was sure that this time she would win." "And did she ?" "No; the money was lost. We hadn't enough left to settle our account at the hotel or to get away from the place, even if there were anywhere to go-when one has no pennies. So my mother begged me to slip into the rooms with what was left-and try to get something back. I had been trying when you saw me, with our last louis. Now you know why it seemed so good to see a man I knew, a face I could trust. Now you know why I, who had had such misfortunes, was glad at least to bring you luck." "It's my turn to bring you some, I think," began the man she could trust, but she stopped him by putting up her plump little white hand. "If you mean with money-no," she said, with a soft decision that was pretty and sad to hear. "If you mean with advice-yes. If you could only get me something to do ! You see, they will be turning us out of our hotel tomorrow. They've let us keep our rooms on up to now, but for two days they've not given us anything to eat. Of course it can't go on like this. If it hadn't been for you I think when I went back to tell my mother that the last louis of the viatique was gone we would have killed ourselves." "Great heaven, you must promise me not to do that !" the young man implored. "I will promise now, for you have saved me by-caring a little. You do care, really, don't you?" "I wouldn't have blood in my veins if I didn't. But-about - something for you to do-I must think." - EP'"Are you staying here for some time ?" asked the girl. "I haven't made up my mind." - "I asked because I-I suppose you don't need a secrc tary, do you? I can write such - a good Englhsh hand, and I know French and Italian as well as I do German and your own language. If I could be of use I would work so hard for you." "I dare say I shall be needing a secre tary after Christmas. Indeed, I am sure I shall," insisted the yong man, more and more earnest in his desire to do good. "I have dozens of letters to write every day and tall sorts of odds and ends to keep straight. I could bring the things *aown to your place, and you could help me if you would. But I'm raid it would be no end of bother to you." "I should love it," said the girl gently. "Oh, it would be hard work. It would take a lot of your time apnd be worth a lot of money." "Would it, really?i But you mustn't overpay me. I should be so angry if you did that." "There's no daniger. I'm a good business man, I assure you. I should pay a capable secretary like you-knowing several languages and all that-say $40 a week. That's about 200 francs." "Wouldn't that be too much ?" 'N"Hardly enough." '(You are so good- o good! But I knew you would be. I won der i# you would thik me a very bold girl if I told you something. It's this: I'ye never forgotten you since those days in Paris. You were diferent, somehow, from other men I had seen. I thought about you. I had a presentiment that we should meet again. My mother dreamed of numbers to play at roulette. I dreamed of-but, oh, I am saying things I onight not to say ! Please don't blame me. When you've starved for two days and not known what to do, unless die, and then a man comes who is kind and saves you from terrible h~ings, you can't be as wise and well behaved as at other times." "Poor child !" said the young man. "It does me good to be called that. But you don't know my name, ename of your new secretary. It is Julie-Julie de Lavalette. mother is the Comtesse de Lavalette. --O1, Fm plain Hugh Egerton," said the TheL gir! lauighed. "I do not think you pi lugh Eerton at all. But perhaps Amer'ican girl would not tell you that. ! W bat a nice name ! I think it is to be my favorite name." e glanced up at him softly under long 1 -a thrilling glance, but he missed its e, for his own eyes were far away. / ad been the favorite name of another 2 ~she saw that look of his she rose from her chair. "I'm tak uch of yo1fr time," she exclaimed remorsefully. "I must go." es and thoghts cam. back to the wearer of pink and_roses. Perhaps there had been just a little too much softness and sweetess. it hid been wise of her to change the key and speak of parting. 1=e p:tid for the lunch and tipped the waiter so liberally that they all hoped he would come again often. Then he asked if he might walk with her to the hotel where she and her mother were staying. "It's down in the Condamine," she hesitated. "We've moved there latelv, since the money began to go, and we've had to think of everything. It's rather a long walk from here." "All the better for me," he answered, and her smile was an appre ciation of the compliment. They sauntered slowly, for there was no haste. Nobody else v. anted Hugh Egerton's society, and he began to believe that this girl sincerely did want it. He also believed that he was going to do some real good in the world, not just in the ordinary, obvious way, by throwing about his money, but by being genuinely necessary to some one. When they had strolled down the hill and had followed for a time the straight road along the sea on that level plain which is the Con dainine. the girl turned up a side street. "We live here," she said and stopped before a structure of white stucco, rococo decoration and flimsy balconies. Large gold letters, one or.two of which were missing, advertised the house as the Hotel Pension Beau Soleil, and those who ran might ,. read that it would be charitable to describe its a o.t atr accommodation as second rate. -.... "It is not nice," she went on, with a shrug - of her pretty shoulders, "but-it is good to know, all the same, that we will not be turned : out. I have a new heart in my breast since I left this house a few hours ago-because there ti is a You in the world." As she said this she held out her hand for . goodby, and when he had shaken it warmly the young man was bold enough to slip off her wrist the little pink leather bag which hung - there by its chain. "Now for that advance on your secretarial work," he said, and, taking from his pocket a wad of notes which he had won at the Casino, he stuffed it hastily into the yawning mouth of the bag, while the girl's soft eyes gazed at the sea. Then he closed the spring with a snap, and she let him pass the chain over her hand once more. "Oh, but it looks very fat !" she exclaimed. "Are you sure you counted right?" "There's a little more there," he said uncomfortably, "just a little to save the bother of counting here in the street. Don't look angry. Only the salary part's for you, of course, but the rest-couldn't you just hand it over to your mother and say, 'Winnings at the Casino?' That's true, you know. It was, every bit. And you needn't say who won it. Besides, if it hadn't been for you it would have been lost in stead of won. It would be a kind of Christmas present for your mother from the Casino, which really owes her a lot more." The girl shook her head gently. "I couldn't do that, even for my mother's sake, but I don't misunderstand now we are such friends. I know how kindly you mean, and, though neither mother nor I can accept presents of money, even from dear friends (after all, we are of the noblesse), I'm not going to hurt you by giving the money back if you.will do what I ask of you." "What is that ?" He felt ready to do anything within reason. "Let us sell you our dear little dog for this extra money you have put into my bag. He is very, very valuable, for he cost thousands of francs, the sweet pet, so you would really have something not un worthy in return for your goodness. Ah, don't say no! You would love Papillon, and we should love you to have him. We couldn't have parted with our little darling to a stranger though we were starving, but it would make us happy to think he was yours. And then, if you won't, you must take all this back." As she spoke she touched the bag on her arm. "Oh, Il have the dog I" Hugh Egerton said quickly. Anything rather than the girl should return the money, which she so much S needed. "I remember he was a dear little chap, Pomeranian or something of the sort. I hope he likes motors." ~ "He will like whatever you like. If you will ... come and fetch him this evening I will show you ..all his tricks. Do come. It would be good to see ) Z~J you again so soon." . "With pleasure," said the young man, flushing slightly, "if you tink your mother will be well ~' 'enough to receive me." "The news I have to give will almost cure -her. If you would dine with us?i They, will give us a dinner now"-and she laughed child ishly-"when I have paid the bill. It will be very stupid for you at a place like this, but you will have a welcome, and it is the best we can do." "It is the welcome I want," said Hugh. "But if you and your mother could dine with me somewhere" "Another time we will." There were to be other times, of course ! "And this evening," she went on, "we can talk of my beginning work as your secretary. It shall be directly after Christmas ?" "Whenever you are ready." "I suppose you have friends to whom you will go for Christmas ?" "Not a friend." "Oh, perhaps we might be together-all three ?" "I'll think of something pleasant for us to do if you'll let me." "How good you are! Then till this evening. It will seem long till then." They shook hands once more. She had taken off her glove now, and her palm left on his a reminiscence of Peau d'Espagne. He did not know what the scent was, but it smelled rich and artificial, and he disliked to associate it with his new friend. "But probably it's her mother's, and she didn't choose it herself," he thought. "Well, I have a new interest in life now. I expect this is the best thing that's happened to me for a long time." IAs he walked back to his hotel his head was full of plans for the girs ts.. en. plasure andating benefit. "Poor lonely child I" he thought. "And what a mother ! She ought not to be left with a per son like that. She ought to marry. It would be a good deed to take her away from such an influence. So young and so ingenuous as she is still, in spite of the surroundings she must have known, she is capa ble of becoming a noble woman. Perhaps if she turns out to be really as sweet and gentle as she seems" The sentence broke off unfinished in his mind and ended with a great sigh. There could be only second best and third best things in life for him now, since love was over, and it would be impossible for him to care for an angel from heaven who had not the face and the dear ways of the girl he had lost. But second best things might be better than no good things at all if only one made up one's mind to accept them thankfully. And it was a shame to waste so much money ou himself when there were soft eyed, innocent girls in the world whoj aught to be sheltered and protected from harm. HE soft eyed, innocent girl who had inspired the thought went into the hotel and was rather cross toL s the youthful concierge because the ascenseur wasi not working. There were three flights of stairs to' jj mount before she reached her room, and she was sol anxious to open her bag to see what was inside that she ran up very fast, so fast that she stepped on her dress and rippbd? out a long line of gathers. Her eyes were not nearly as soft as they. had been while she picked up the hanging folds of pink cloth andi went on. The narrow corridor at the top of the staircase was somewhat dark,; and, her eyes accustomed to the brilliant light out of doors, the girll stumbled against a child who was coming toward her. "Petit bete !" she snapped. "You have all but made me fall. Awk ward little thing ! Why don't you keep out of people's way I" The child flushed. She would have liked to answer that it was, mademoiselle who had got in her way, but mother wished her to be always polite. "I am sorry," she replied instead, -not saying a word about the poor little toes whieh the pretty pink lady had rushed. "Well, then, if you are sorry, why don't you let me pass ?" asked the girl of the soft eyes. I "If you please, I want to give you a note," said the child, anxiously searching a small pocket. "It's from mother for madame. She told me to take it to ' your door. So I did, several times, but nobody an- \., - swered. Here 'tis, please, mademoiselle." Mademoiselle snatched it from the hand, which was very tiny and pink, with dimples where grownup folk have knuckles., She then pushed past the child and went on to a door at the end of the passage, which she threw open without knocking. "Eh bien, Julie ! You have been gone long enough to break the bank twice over. What luck have you had ?" exclaimed the husky voice of a woman who sat in an easy chair beside a wood fire, telling her own fortune with an old pack of cards spread upon a sewing board on her capacious lap. She was in a soiled dressing gown or purple flannel, with several of f the buttons off. In the clear light of a window at. the woman's back{ her hair, with a groundwork of crimson, was overshot with iridescent' lights. On a small table at her side a tray had been left, with the re mains of dejeuner-a jug stained brown with streaks of coffee, a crum bled crescent roll, some balls of silver paper which had contained cream chocolates, ends of cigarettes and a scattered gray film of ashes. At her feet a toy black Pomeranian lay coiled on the torn bodice of ai red dress, and all the room was in disorder, with an - indiscriminate litter of hats, gloves, French novels, - feather boas, slippers and fallen blouses and skirts. C t The lady of the roses went to the mirror over the d untidy mantelpiece and looked at herslf as she n-i ---, swered, "No luck at roulette or trente, but the bests r , --of luck outside." i* "What, then ?" The girl began to hum as she powdered her nose. with a white glove lying in a powder box. "You remember le beau brun f" "The young man in Paris you made so many inquiries about at.1 Riz's? Is he here ?" "He is. I've just had lunch with him. Oh, there are lots of things. to tell! He is a good boy." "How good?i You told him we had had losses ?" "I painted a sad picture. He was most sympathetic."I "To what extent?" .... (.To Be Continued). Our Singers Wanted. se ob l efr hyaeyug New York Times. adtervie aentteyuh 'Miss Mary Garden, the Americanfuqalt,he ath tati prima dudna, has a commission from fudi mrcnvie.Bsds M. Messager, of the Paris Opera, tothpesnlyofAeia grs find grood voices for him if possible. tkswl nPrs h uine She said vesterday: "I have been as- Ilk ohn etrta h mn sociated with M. Messager for years cngr h ig e rnhwt at the Opera Comique and he assured js h rc fa cet ti o y f>at miy judgmient in the matter bdta h aeeno e esi wcild suffice for him. The AmericanofteA riayunmn. vice is most populatr with Paris -- musical people. .it seems as though Btupoial wsigde America is the only place where fresh se at hn"ep ssac voices can be found. In France andintecto ls-ewad@u all thenottherrcountriesathensingersyjuier