Mineral Point weekly tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1859-1868, 1862-02-26

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do not tell him until | consent"
Which will be in your first letter
home"
Be still, Mr.. Morgan" said Miriam,
with a blush mingled with a look of pain
upon her face. Il may be very sensitive
to YOUR tests"
Mr. Morgan apologized-and in very
few minutes aft srwards he was riding
from Remstead Place, moralizing on the
different phases in society, and wiping his
very red face with his very red handker-
chief
CHAPTER ".
a year had passed
year of joys and sorrows, of clouds
and sunshine, of accessons and disap-
pointments Miriam was still a soiourner
in Europe. Almost every city, and place
of beauty, novelty, or consequence. had
been visited by her London, Edinburgh.
Dresden, Constantinople, Venice, Naples.
Rome, and Paris. In the latter city of
beauty and interest of intrigues and in
constituencies, Of alternate revolution and
lethargv, We again bring her before our
readers
She was n guest at the Hotel st jan es
in the Rue st Honore, that hotel so tho
roughly English in its noise and hustle,
Its accommodations and its prices She
sat by the window with something of an
air of sadness and weariness Travelling
had done her good Her form had devel-
oped more fully in its beauty her cheeks
were round and ruddy; her ewes were
more brilliant and viyacipus, and bathed
in the earnestness of thought Her whole
air was that of calm, contented self
possessed woman.
of Ia Of ha-
thoughts were turned toward the sunny
shores of her own beloved land Thther
she was slowly making up her mind to
bend her steps. Almost every place OF
note in popuace-heaving Paris had been
visited; the Jardin des Plantes, with Its
birds, beasts, and flowers practical lee
ture on natural history; the galleries OF
the Louvre, awakening the i.nate taste
for the arts and conveying the history of
the country by the events thev comm en-
Orate; the Muillerics the Champs Eivs-
sees, St. Cloud Versailles with It's palaces
and paras-all these Miriam had visited
and on that day she had even entered
the low gray stone building, the MOrgue,
that city of the suicidal dead-the last
refuge of passion misery and crime
The room which Miriam occupied was
plainly furnished. There were two large
air windows, with red and white curtains,
fine mirror between the windows, II
round handicapped table in the middle
Of the room, a snug bed with befrillcd
pillows and drapery to match the windows.
a clock and flower vases on the mantel
a beautiful piece of carpet before tn,
hearth. and another by the bed Upon
the table lay two letters vet unopened
At last. as If weary of her silent madita-
tions, Miriam left the window, sat down
by tie table, and slowly opening one OF
the letters, began to read, 1t was one
from Mr. Morgan, filed with his usual
eccentricities, his positive assurances.
his abrupt admonition., his playful rail
lery. The closing part Of the letter, how
ever, made her check blanch. and a low
cry to escape from her lips. The extract
ran as follows:
=" Well Miriam, l have told you several
times before, the heir has appeared, and the
homestead has been passing by a regular pro
cess into his nands. To-day the last conven-
tionality entered into, and by the time
this letter reaches YOU the heir Of Remstcad
Place will have taken full possession thereof
| never told YOU who the heir was, neither
have YOU expressed the sli.rtcst curiosity
about the matter in your letters. 1t is now
both my pleasure aud my duty TO inform you.
| can almost imagine that hear your heart
beat fast and thIck-that | see vour checks
flush and your eyes grow brilliant. positivcls
brilliant, as l whisper his name. Miriam, it is
vOur beloved, your bctrothed, your worshippcd
Paul -
e Paul Devareux Oh. my God = cried
Miriam wildly, clasping her hands in az
ony together now pressing them heavily
upon her white forehead, and then swing
ing them vacantly backward and forward
as she slowly paced up and down the
room. Paul Devareux, Oh, this is bit
ter With one fell swoop this has wrecked
nv hopes and obliterated all my dreams
Of beauty and grandeur. Oh, woe to me,
woe to me How | wish were dead !"
How black il must be within the soul
how dark and dreary without. how bleak
and uninyitinG the long, dim vista. Of the
future. when the heart wh;-ners that iai-
quitous prayer, " wish | we're dead .
low wear, or life, how bereft of all ener-
-, - now shorn of all that makes existence
worth q struggle or prayer
CHAPTER Y.
Poor Miriam
She sat down by the window again, and
wep, like the very child that she was
And why? Should she not rather have
been happy. and should not her heart have
btttt Bt.NifustN III Il StuSiiIhc HtLNIt
was hers, delicate organism, ever strong
in pride, and ever alive to the great fear
of having her motives misconstrued She
sr;ll loved Paul Sleeping or waking, her
memory was still with him For him she
had given up Bemstead Place and all and
she had been calmly, surely looking for the
time when Paul would forgive her, and
when she could share, with a soul now
far better attuned 10 his, his privations
his poverty, and his tolls She would be
the dav-star in his advorsity, the wor
shipped one Of his soul, the strong arm TO
rest upon when his heart grew faint: and
in that thought lay the Mecca Of her
beaming hopes
But now he was rich and she was poor
She had concealed her movements and
her address from him she had closed he
avenue Of communication between them,
50 that she alone could have ;he pleasure
of re-opening it; and now her pride would
neither allow her TO make nor receive ad
vances Gould Paul put high faith and
trust in her2 Might he not thi K that
pride, and love of wealth and station were
still strong in her soul, and thar she had
turned TO him again but from these mo-
tives
All Paul could never be ANYTHING more