New Orleans daily crescent. [volume] ([New Orleans, La.]) 1851-1866, 1852-09-06

euS oPCh NaS it0NAA iAo"E"
the room.
elbow unlike summer evening it is in this
room :" Gabrielle suddenly broke the silence by
exclaiming, almos. iunpatently. 81 wish |
could, even for once, see ray of sunshine in it.
l have often wondered how any one could build
house in this situation"
" And do you never imagine that there are
people who care less for sunshine than you do,
Gabrielle'" Bertha asked, rather sadly.
Yes, certainly, sister but still it seems to
me almost like sin to shut out the beautiful
heavens sunlight as it has been shut out in this
house Winter and summer it is always alike.
If it was not for my own bright little room up
stairs, think never should be gay here at all %
"Well, Gabrielle, you need not complain of
the gloominess of this room just now," Miss
Vaux said. 'sAt nine o'clock on an August
evening, suppose all rooms look pretty much
alike"
"Oh, sister, moi" Gabrielle cried "Have
you never noticed the different kinds of twi-
| Light Here, in this house, it is always winter
twilight, quite colorless, and cold and cherries
but in other places, where the sun has shone, it
is warm, and soft, and beautiful; even for an
hour, or longer, after the sun has quite set,
faint rosy tinge, like a warm breath, seems to
rest upon the air, and to shed such peace and
almost holiness over every thing. That was the
kind of twilight think of it SO often-that
! there used to be at home. remember, so very
very long ago, how used to sit on the ground
at my mothers feet in the summer evenings,
looking out through the open window at the
dear old garden, where every thing was so still
and quiet that it seemed to me the very trees
must have fallen asleep, and how she used to
tell us fairy stories in the twilight, Sisters. do
you remember it: !" Gabrielle asked, her voice
tremulous. but not altogether, so it seemed, with
emotion that the recollection had called up.
81 do Miss Vaux said, in a voice clear and
| cold md h ard irn From Rartnu there me
no answer.
"It is one of the few things recollect about
her, Gabrielle said again, very softly: Sc the
rest is almost all indistinct, like half forgotten
dream. l was only four years old, you say,
Joanna, when she died:"
You know it; why do you ask y Miss Sau2
said, harshly and quickly.
There was pause. 1t was 50 dark that none
of their faces could be seen, but one might have
told, from the quick, nervous way in which un-
consciously Gabrielle was clasping and unclasp-
ing her hand, that there was some struggle going
on within her. At last, very timidly, her voice
trembling, though she tried hard to steady it,
she spoke again.
s'Sisters, do not be angry with me Often
lately have wished so very much to ask you
some things about my mother. Oh, let ME ask
them now. Dear sisters, tell me why it is that
you never speak to me, or almost allow me to
speak, of her. Is it because it greves you so
much to think Of her death, or is there any other
cause her voice sunk SO low that it was al
most whisper" why her name is never men
toned among u.s. | have kept silence about
this thing for so long, for l knew you did not
wish to speak of it, but, oh, sisters, tell me
now! Ought l not to know about my OWE
Hush" Miss vadk said, in voice sterr
and harsh. Gabrielle, you do not know what
you are asking. Let it be enough for you tt
learn that anything l could tell you of YOU
mother could give you nothing but pain to heal
E pain which we would gladly spare you yet
9 knowing, as we so well do, the great bitterness
t of it, l ask you, for all our sakes, yours a
e much as ours, never again be the first to men
: ton your mothers name!"
d She had risen from her seat. and stood uprig
r before Gabrielle, the outline of her tall dar
figure showing clearly against the window. L
l, her voice there was not one trace OF emotion
<, her whole manner was hard and cold and unin
h passioned; like that of one who had, long ag
t, subdued all gentle feelings.
II Gabrielle's tears were falling fast, but ST
e made no answer to Miss Vaux's words, Sf
+ stood much in awe of both her sisters especial
G of the eldest, and knew how hopeless all remor
h STRANGE with her would be.
Il After few moments, Bertha laid her hand o
S Gabrielle's shoulder, saying, with something {
d gentleness in her voice:
e ss You distress yourself toe much, my child
It Trust more in US, Gabrielle. We would try t
e keep sorrow from you (; do not make it impos
sible "
y eyes, yes; know it is meant kindly towar
i me- Gabrielle said, gently; "but you forge
'e that suffer from being in ignorance. can nc
e forget that you are concealing something 1ro1
n me-
d (Which 1 would to God could conceal frol
e you forever Miss Vaux said. sGabriell
80 foolish child, do not seek for SORROW it wi
come quickly enough of ITSELF and she turne
d from her with some muttered words that he
a sister could not hear.
" Gabrielle tried to speak again; but Berth
ot raised her hand warningly, and they were a
l. silent; Gabrielle with her face bowed dow
ID upon her hands in the thick twilight.
N "We will close the window and have lights
l. Bertha said, after some time had passed; '' Il
in night air is getting cold.'
le With deep sigh Gabrielle rose, and Dire
I'd down the open window, standing there for son
e. minutes alone, and looking out upon the dal
re evergreen grove.
0i CHAPTER II.
g 81 am going into the village" Miss Va,
" said ''If you will tell me where that po
$: woman lives you were speaking Of last nigh
lv Gabrielle, l will call upon her now.'
y "Let me go with you" Gabrielle said quickl
20 ssI told her we would come together. Wait f
to me one minute, and will be ready
n ''I scarcely see the need of it. You areloo
~ ing pale and ill, Gabrielle. | would advise y
to stay in the house end rest
y. 81 have headache, and the air will do
ne good' Gabrielle answered. 'sLet me so sister
od Gas you will then,'' Miss Vaux said, a
er Gabrielle went away to dress.
IT, She had not yet recovered her usual g
hit spirits; but was still grave, quiet, and apl
he rently occupied with her own thoughts, and
w, two walked side by side, almost without spea
he ing, along the little path over the field viii
he lay between their house and the village. 1t v
a a very bright sunny summers day, too hot,
as deed, for walking, but beautiful to look
W. The heat seemed to weary Gabrielle, she walk
elf so very slowly, and was so pale.
np s'This is the house, sister We go throu
his the kitchen; she has the room above"
nv They raised the latch and went in. No c
lie was in the lower room; so they passed throue
and assembled a low narrow staircase, aim
hat like q ladder, which rose abruptly from dot
her way at the farther side, until they reach
ire another door which stood facing them, witht
,lv any landing between it and the highest ST
AZ Gabrielle knocked, and faint voice from witt
tod answered, "Come in p and she enteredtolloN
tha by her sister. 1t was a very small room, a
tba yery bare of furniture for there was little
18th but a deal bedstcad, an old table, and one
low two old ricketty chairs. in one OF whlch-ti
red boasted pair of broken arms and somethl
nht that had once been cushion-sat the won
ing they had come to visit.
one Gabrielle went quickly up to her, and tax
,rt- her hand said, in low voice:
T N,f,o,