CHAPTER III.

Observer, Volume 7, Issue 229, 31 January 1885, Page 8

CHAPTER 111.

Several weeks elapsed before Evremond De Mouvrier was deemed sufficiently strong to rise from a sick bed. For days and nights immediately following- upon the cruel treatment to which, lie bad been subjected he had almost incessantly shrieked in high delirium. Now would he be piteously praying his mother to come to him ; now would he talk to the "kind gentleman" who bad before visited him in his solitude. Then he would cower down beneath an imaginary blow, and moan and Aveep with an anguish which would horrify and melt into tears the devoted Jeanette, who had nursed him when an infant, and who now alone watched over him. That kind creature, upon her return the night the child was so ill-used, displayed a spirit of which neither Adele nor Marquer ever dreamt her capable. She refused to leave the boy. She upbraided the mother, and denounced the cruel stepfather in scathingwords. Marquer threatened her with chastisement, but Jeanette, undaunted, seized the first missile that came nearest to her hand, and vowed that she would beat out bis dastardly brains if he should attempt to approach her. Marquer was therefore forced to retire to his own den, whence he issued a proclamation that as soon as the boy was ready to leave bis room be should be turned from the house. He had been taught by a designing servant, he said, to disobey ' his kind parents, and they now washed their hands entirely from his control.

Hoav the sun shone, and how the birds sang, upon the morning- which saw the wretched boy led by the weeping servant down the stone steps towards the hired coach which waited at the garden-gate ! He was leaving- his home, perhaps for ever ! But why did Evreniond shed bitter tears and turn his head agitatedly towards a window in that house, which had been a house of torture to him ever since his birth ? Why did he walk a few stej)s — again look towards that muslinod window — and, as the drapery moved coldly, shriek out and kiss his tiny fingers upward ? Oh, nature ! behind those curtains — the child instinctively knew — stood his mother. Jeanette's face is disfigured with tears, and she wished to avoid the cynical gaze of the ' ; cocker." The two waifs of society now make a despairing gulp of their grief, dash into the cab, and in a moment -have disappeared in the midst of a dry cloud of Paris dust. Away, through the cool summer breeze that played with the boy's curls and raised a tremulous blush on his cheeks ; away, jjast familiar trees and sedate villas, and tiny winding streams, which the rain had made for the express purpose apparently of enabling little boys to sail tiny boats in; galloping over wooden bridges, that sang in boisterous chorus to the animated melody of the horse's hoofs ; past angular pieces of green wayside verdure, where the fairies had imprinted little rings when dancing in the moonlight ; nigh to miniature cottages, embowered with flowers and runners, and so small that surely none but fairies could inhabit them ; past dark and dismal forests, that frowned suspiciously upon the travellers — away sped the horse with its burthen, until it reached far-off villages, where the great metropolis was looked upon as something very important to be spoken of, but, by reason of its distance, very rarely to be visited. '' Be a good boy always, dear Evremond," whispered the faithful servant, choked with grief, as they neared the Chateau Rouge, "and Madame Massilon will be a — will be very kind to you." She had almost said those touching words, "be a mother to you," but she reflected that the associations of that sacred word "mother" would scarcely arouse in the mind of this deeply wronged orphan the full meaning of the affection and solicitude which might perchance be showered iipon him. " Oh, Jeanette, and will jou, then, leave me ? " asked the terrified child, clinging to her horny hand, and kissing it frantically. "Alas. I must!" she cried. "But be courageous, Evremond. Remember your father was a brave soldier. Ah, would that he were here • But bo brave my child ! " The boy wept. '"Look, Evremond! I have a present for you, and I will give it you only if you promise me that you will be a good boy, and try to bo an honour to that dear father who is now in another world. See ! I took that for my child ! It belonged to your papa, Colonel de Mouvrier, who wore it next his heart. It is your .another's miniature. Keep it, child, for 'his sake. It is yours by right. The cab now stopped before an iron, gate fronting a villa built in the style of a Swiss chalet, and surrounded by ancient firs. Evremond glanced tearfully through the massive bars and perceived a little girl as tall .as himself (he was now approaching his ninth year) playing with a prettily painted india-rubber ball.

As the cab pulled up she sprang, with the lightness of a fairy, towards the gate, her straw hat, which was trimmed with blue, falling upon the lawn, and her profuse light hair flying behind her in most lovable disorder. "Mamma !" she cried joyously. Then, with the sudden impetuosity which characterised her first movements, she flew up the steps and hastily rung the hall bell. boon Madame Massilon appeared. She was a little brunette, rather stout, but animated and lively, her dark eyes wandering from Jeanette to Evremond with much vivacity and good nature. "Ah, little Evremond — poor, delicate child ! lam glad he has come ; Marie will be a rare playmate for him. This way, my dear. We shall go in by the door in the rear, for there, in our favourite room, Mario has prepared a pretty feast for you." Jeanette would not leave the carriage. Her unsophisticated heart was already breaking at the thought of parting, or with the knowledge of the effort that would inevitably be required of her to say '' Good-bye." So she contented herself with clasping the boy in her arms and kissing bis forehead, and muttering through her sobs some words, which meant, <; farewell, Evremond; don't forget poor Jeanette," after whicb she fell back, weeping loudly, in the corner of the carriage. Evreniond recollected hearing- the crack of a whip, the clang of tbc gates, tbe sound of the horse clashing back to Paris, after which his eyes seemed to grow dim, and be fainted. Kind voices murmured sweetly in his oars ere be thoroughly returned to consciousness. V\ r hcn he opened his eyes lie discovered himself lyiug on a soft couch in a pretty little room, with red wall-paper and cool inusliia curtains that waved, by tbe side of tbe window, which fronted a picturesque garden. Two wistful eyes, blue and deep as tbe fathomless ocean, were observing him. 'Tmis tbe little Mario, who, when be moved, vcamingly held up her finger to her mamma not to make a noise, though all the time she bad longed so fervently that ho would speak to her. ''Hois very week, poor child; -we shall have to take as great care of him as we would a delicate flower," murmured IVEadame Massilon, administering to Evremond some cordial taken from the mysterious depths of a cupboard. " Poor little flower ! " said Mario, smoothing- bis dark locks, "we must lead you into tbc sunshine, and make you grow strong."

(1 o be continued.)