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ODETTE'S MARRIAGE.
She rode slowly up the sandy avenue of the country house, and drew rein before the broad steps.
"Good morning, Odette!" Mme. Descoutures called to her, leaning over the balustrade. "Come up here before you go into the house. I wish to have a little talk with you."
"Is my father at home?"
"No; he has gone out for a walk, with my husband."
Odette called her groom and dismounted. Gathering the long black train of her riding habit in her hand, she quietly ascended the steps leading to the terrace facing the sea. Mme. Descoutures met her with an embrace and the exclamation:
"Heavens! how lovely you are!"
Odette was wonderfully beautiful this morning. Her habit showed her exquisite form to the best advantage, graceful and flexible as a young willow tree. The transparent complexion was slightly flushed from her ride; the forehead, crossed by a delicate line between the eye-brows, was gilded by the warm reflection from her glorious golden hair.
A strange contrast--her eyes were dark. Large, black eyes, beaming with intelligence and cultivation, but shadowed by an expression of pride and sadness. She stood before her friend, straight and slender; her lips parted in a slight smile, and the rich splendor of her hair shining in the sunbeams. Mme. Descoutures continued:
"You are simply magnificent! But I called you to give you a scolding, and here I am paying you compliments!"
Odette sank carelessly into one of the arm-chairs on the terrace.
"My dear child, I am worried about you. Your whole character seems to be changing. Every one is speaking about it. You were always gay and happy until this Winter, while now!--I know you must find it very dull here, of course, but it was your own choice to come. You could have stayed in Paris if you had wished to. Are you listening to me?"
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