LITERATURE.

Globe, Volume VIII, Issue 910, 25 May 1877, Page 3

LITERATURE.

MIGNONNTE. ' That ? Oh, that's my small sister, Mignoune. A rather uncommon fa e, is it not?' And Mr John < handon (called by his fri« nds Jack glanced at the rough sketch which his visit r had unearthed from his portfolio, and then turned back to his work on the easel.

' Your sister ? ' Philip Winterhalter regarded the bit of paper more atten ively. ' Not much like you, Jack,' he said ' What a pretty, babyish look the face has.' ' She is scarcely more than a baby,' said Tack, with his head held critically on one side, to observe the effect of the las-t few touches given to his painting. ' Only a little girl, you know ; but an uncommonly nice one. You don't often meet one like Mignonne.'

' But her name's not Mignonne, is it ? ' ' Her name's Margaret. We call her Mignonne, like the mignonne she is. I have taken her here to live with me now. At least for a time : the old aunt, where she has her home, is gone to some outlandish place to stay with her sick sister-in-law—-the Orkneys—or the Shetlands: I forget where.'

' What a trouble the child must be to you !' ' Trouble !' John Chandon's eyes opened in wonder. * I only wish she may nev ; rgo away again. We have great fun over the housekeeping; half driving my ancient servant Becky wild, Mignonne . Here she comes, I believe ! In some muddle, no doubt, over the accounts, as usual. The child thinks if she spends a shilling more than she ought, it would ruin me.'

The door was swung back, and a young girl appeared in the opening. She wore a scanty cotton frock, and her golden hair fell back in a curly mass, somewhat as a child's does : a small paper book was in her band, and a perplexed look on her sweet face. 'Oh, Jack, I can't make it come right,' she said. ' With my adding up it makes only thirty seven shillings and sevenpence halfpenny ; and I know I have spent over two pounds. Becky ' At that moment Mr Winterhalter moved a step or two from behind the easel, and she stopped short, gazing at him. She had no idea any one was there. ' .Never mind Becky and the shillings, Birdie,' said Jack. ' This is Mr Winterhalter. As to the accounts -1 have no head for them, you know, so they must go.' But the girl, in sheer conscientiousness, still looked distressed. Old Becky, who had had her sway so long, had told her she was sure it was nearer fifty-seven shillings than thirty-seven. Mr Winterhalter advanced, a smile on his lips. ' May I try to help you ?' ' Oh, thank, you ! Can you do acounts ? Jack can't.'

Had Philip Winterhalter been equal to the mental effort, he might have wondered at his own readiness to aid in anything. But he was not equal to it : he was too thoroughly indolent. One of the butterflies of fashion and prosperity, who drop into their fortunes with their birth, he just droned and lounged through his days in utter inertness.

It did strike him as a little odd, when he took the complicated columns of figures in his hand to begin his task, that he should have offered his assistance ; but the sensation of being useful was something novel; <t was such a very pretty little girl who leant over hi*n, hindering him in the most unconscious and charming manner.

' Get it wrong again as qnickly as possible, ' he said, when the victory was won over the obstinate figures, ' and then apply to me. I feel quite refreshed by my exertions Don't thank me, I beg of you; I consider it a privilege ' And then he began languidly to coax on his gloves, looking smilingly at Mignonne, as he wished her good morning. ' I shall come in ofte'i, if I may, Chan don,' he said ; ' it's dull in town now, and lam bored to death.' And so he departed. It wa3 curious how thit child's face haunted him; the great, wide open, darkblue eyes, with their long, straight lashes: the clear, babyish complexion ; the delicate, sensitive mouth ; and the long flow of golden hair. ' Such a pretty, pretty little girl!' he said, half-unconsciously. ' Such a pretty child !'

The next day he was at Chandon's studio again : and the next and the next. Mr Wiuterhalter had suddenly become greatly interested in art; and Jack Chandon was the very man to give him ideas on the subject. He thought truly it was the art : he did not then suspect that it was Mignonne. Mignonne ran in and out of the studio at will : it was so much pleasanter there than in the shabby little dining room, or in watching Becky make the puddings ; and she and their frequent visitor became firm friends. By and bye Philip Winterhalter went into the dining room of his own accord, and seemed to have the run of the house.

' A very pretty little girl,' he had called her ; and this conviction grew stronger on him daily. ' A very, very pretty little girl' she was indeed. ' She'll make more than one heart ache by and bye,' he thought, as he sat in the sitting room one evening with her and Jack, and watched her spread the toast for them both and pour out the tea. ' Chandon will have his hands full—and I don't envy him. The whole world will be wanting to come after such a blossom as that.'

Somehow he could not get the idea out of his mind. After tea, Jack being busy at the table with some pen-and-ink sketches, Mignonne sat down on the stool at the corner of the hearth-rug, and turned her gaze on Philip. ' What are you thinking of that you look so ctoss ?' she said. 'lt must be something dreadful.'

' Only of you, little girl,' lie answered, smiling clown at her. ' Nothing so dreadful after all, is it ?' ' And what of me ?' The childish persistence was very charming. ' What have I done ?'

' Nothing as yet. It's what you will do. of which I was thinking—when you are a grown young lady—when you begin to think of leaving Jack.' ' 1 shall never leave Jack !' the pretty hand came down forcibly on one knee in the heat of argument. ' Never, Mr Winterhalter.'

' And if your aunt comes home and claims yon ?' 'Jack says he'll not let me go back again.' ' But—though you do remain here—if you learnt to care for anyone—as you will Borne

day, my dear child—and Jack, knowing that you would be happy with him, should be willing to resign you, that would be different, you know.' But the pretty head still shook a most decided negative. ' Jack would never be willing, I know. And'—there was a sudden little flash of temper in the girlish voice—- ' and I don't like to hear you talk about my caring for anyone else except Jack aud -' ' And whom ? ' asked Mr Winterhalter, in the sudden pause she came to, as be gazed admiringly at the heightened colour and bright eyes. ' And whom, Mignonne? ' ' And you,' she said, locking up at him in her frank, childish way. ' I like you, next to Jack, Mr Winterhalter '

Hi. laughed, a lazy httle laugh—she was such a pretty little girl, and so childishly honest. 'T am very glad you do,' he said. ' But why do you like me ?' ' Because you don't wear coarse and ugly clothes ; because you don't smoke a pipe in the room : because you d m't say ungentlemanly words : and because -because I do !' ' Thanks,' said Mr Winterhalter, unconscious that she had been about to add ' because you are so tall and good looking,' and had stopped herself. Mow refreshingly candid she was. How puiely and simply her aunt had brought her up. ' And I like you too, little girl,' he said. 'We are excellent friends. But you will outgrow your liking presently : J shall be quite left behind when you are a young lad y-'

He had offended her now ; he saw it in the dr oping of her eyelids and the corners of her mouth

' It's like once, like always, with us Chandons,' she said, rising, and standing with one hand resting on the m-ntelpiece, looking down intently at the fire; and then for a time they were silent. The lazily handsome gentleman was entirely too indolent, it seemed, to carry the conversation farther, and contented himself with looking at hor through his half-closed eyes, and admiring her immensely. It was perfectly absurd for him to feel towards a child as he felt to her. He admired her, he was fascinated by her pretty ways aud frank childishness ; but still that har ly accounted for the constant way in which she filled his thoughts. Here or abroad, she was always in them. 'lf she were a few years older,' he thought, ' I should be afraid that I was falling in love with her : but a child like that —it's absurd !' and so he rose to go. ' Bunning away ?' asked Jack. ' I must go,' was the answer. 'Mrs aud Miss Winterhalter have come to town, and they want me to-night.' ' Your aunt and cousin, are they not ?' said Jack. ' Miss Winterhalter came to my studio once : she is very beautiful.' ' I will bring her again, Jack. Yes, she is very beautiful, and very nice. We are great friends. Good night, Mignonne.' But Mignonne, oddly enough, did not smlie as the door closed after him. The fire needed attention, and, kneeling down to 'ook at it, two bright tears fell on the fender. And why? Was it because he had called his cousin beautiful and said they were great friends? Well?—were not he and herself great friends 1 Had he not just told her that he 'liked her,' too? And was she not a very pretty little girl, who would some day have numerous lovers ? It was foolish and childish of her, certainly, to be vexed about that beautiful cousin.

What would Mignonne have thought had she known that the beautiful cousin and Philip Winterhalter were engaged to one another ? They had been engaged some months now. And perhaps the young lady's absence from town had caused all Philip's listlessness, and sent him to Jack Chandon's to dissipate it.

Of course Philip Wiuterhalter was delighted to have his affianced wife back in town ; of course he had felt wretchedly unhappy and out of sorts during her absence ; but some way he seemed a little distrait and ill at ease this evening, as he revelled in the sunshine of her presence. Frederica noticed in. She was really a lovely girl, tall and fair, with bright brown eyes that were nearsighted.

' How have you been spending your time lately? ; she asked, as he stood by the piano, turning her music, and trying to look inexpressibly happy and not absent. ' The Latimers wrote me word that you had gone picture-mad. But you never mentioned it in y<mr letters.' ' Did they ?' ' They said you were studying with an artist —painting pictures in his studio. Is it so, Philip ?' ' I have been sometimes to Chandon's place. But I fear I shall never make the hand at it that I thought to make when I first went."

' Chandon ? Oh, I know him —a little. A simple, pleasant, absent-minded kind of man. Does he live alone ?'

'He did. Lately he hai had his sister with him.'

' His sister,' repeated Frederica, bending forward in her short-sighted way to look at her note? - for she was playing all this while. 1 Is she pretty ? ' He laughed, hesitated, and then grew grave. ' Very. She has one of the loveliest i ace9 I ever saw; the most charming of manners. She is only a little girl; and her sweet simplicity is refreshing.' «I should like to see her, said Miss Winterhalter, quite taken with the description. ' Only a little girl !' ' And she worries herself over the housekeeping matters, the butcher's and the baker's bills, fearful of spending too much of her brother Jack's money, aud their old servant Becky tyrannizes over her at will. Oh, I assure you it is quite an amusing household —but very delightful' ' And—you say, Philip, she is only a little girl.' She looks like one.' ' I should like to see her so much,' repeated Frederica. ' When will you take me there, Philip?' (To he continued.)