CHAPTER VIII. EUGENIE'S CONFESSION.

Te Aroha News, Volume III, Issue 133, 19 December 1885, Page 6

CHAPTER VIII. EUGENIE'S CONFESSION.

Several days paseed| spiteful days, which eeemed to take a pleasure in running coun f er to the plans of feeble mortals. In the first place, the weather was abominable, and then the work going on in the fields required especial surveillance, and Malissof'a bailiff chose to fall ill ab this very juncture. Our hero passed some sad evenings alone in his mother's little sittingroom, questioning the future and despairing of happiness. Have we not all experienced that on rainy days our minds are predisposed to melancholy impressions? The sun at length emerged from the clouds, and Malissof ordered the carriage to come round to take him to Madame Berlaguine's. It was about six o'clock on a Sunday evening ; the earth, refreshed by the rain, was clad with new verdure ; there was a promise of an abundant aftermath, and the gatherdd harvest filled the hearts of the peasantry with a sense of security, which was reflected in their faces. Maliesof drove throuch prosperous villages where children were sporting in the pools left by the recent torrents of rain. The old people sat outsde their cottages on wooden benches, looking on the young folk's games ; they had fastened to the planks the long see- saw on which the girls sat closely packed, singing together, while the lads, dressed in red shirta, with round flat hats of felt decorated with peacock feathers and gayly tilted over one ear, softly swung them, keeping time to the tune for hours together. Malissof gazed as he drove past on these pictures of rural life, and asked himself whether the happmesa of these people did not exceed that of citizens who attain some object of ambition or interest after great exertions ; he too felt as if his tastes grew simpler in the midst of this simple nature, and Eugenie looked to him ten times more charming, a3 she appeared in the window of her mother's drawing-room, in the midst of green shrubs which surrounded the front of the house. He had scarcely alighted from his carriage when he perceived an air of sadness on the young girl's face which he had never before seen. She must have been crying, for her eye? looked slightly swollen, and a few red spota were visible on her peach like j cheeks. After * few preliminary questions, Malis3of endeavouted by skilful jemarks to ascertain what could have taken place that day, but Madame Berlaguine was not to b© sifted. There was something unusual too in her manner ; her natural rudeness, generally concealed beneath a thick veneer of affected courtesy, became mere apparent than was seemly, and instead of -coming and going as usual on incessant errands of hospitality, she never left the room, but watched over her daughter with argus eyes. MaliBBof s curiosity was aroueed, but all his diplomatic arts threatened to avail him little on this occasion. At last Madame Berlaguine left the drawing-room, but before he had time to open his lips, she summoned her daughter also. Eugenie obeyed, murmuring a word of excuse, and left the visitor to his own devices. , , For a moment he felt inclined to take his hat and go, but tho thought of the disgrace which Eugenie had evidnetly incurred inBp : red him with a hope of rendering her some service; ao he remained. An angry whispering in the other room suggested that Madame jßorlaguine was scolding her daughter ; in such a case it is ; useless to resolve not to listen — the ear ' naturally distends aud involuntarily acquires prodigious acuteness. Thus he unintentionally overheard these words, which seemed the close of some long lecture. " I will not hear a word about him, I tell you ! You will do as I command you, or else I will send you away and put, you to a foreign boarding-school, where you will never see me again !" % Eugenie re-entered almost immediately ; she had turned almost white, her eyes looked distended, and she walked with difficulty, her hands drooping at her side. ' Malissof rose to assist her, but she made a sign to stop him, and said, as she raised her eyes full, of a gloomy fire to his face: 11 Will you take a turn in the garden ?" He bowed in silence and,, followed her. She directed her steps towards the old bower, entered the shade of the grand lime trees, and seated herself on a wormeaten wooden bench, which ran all round the enclosure. •' You are in trouble, mademoiselle ?" said Malissof, deeply touched by the sight of her grave, mute despair. "Yes," replied ehe, and her large eyes! rested for a moment on hia face, and then sank with a melancholy listlessness. " You must know what I feel for you," resumed Malisßof ; " speak to me frankly-and tell me if I can be of any help 1" She looked up, then hung down her head without a i word. "I love you," he aaid, but checked ! himself, for the occasion seemed m«st unsuitable for a declaration of his feelings ; " 1 love you tenderly, and wish to be a true friend, the best, most reliable—- " "Do you really mean it ?" eaid she, with a faint ray of hope in her weary eyes. The sun's lovr rays piorced the bower, entering through the opening made in the green wall, and making the gravel sparkle ; all nature seemed happy, the gayety of a bright summer evening extending even, to