Ellsworth American., 1864-06-24

wrap the form in his warm cloak, and lay
it upon a sofa, was his FIRST thought. The
living must not be startled by the shroud
of the dead.
Then, pouring some wine into silver
cup, he moistened the pale lips, until they
grew rosy once more. Warm as was the
evening, he kindled large fire, and drew
the sofa near it. The limbs grew soft
and plant, and rosy flush began to suf-
fuse the checks. Then he bethought him
self of the kind old priest, whose room
was next to his own, and he called him to
assist him in his most welcome task
Both knclt beside the reclining figure.
with earnest eyes, watching for the mo-
ment when the scattered senses should re-
turn.
One could hardly have told which face
was most beautiful, that of the young sur
geon, with its expression of intense SYM
pathy and rcverential emotion, or that OF
the venerable old priest, SO pure and good.
No stain of human passion marred either.
On these two faces, the young girl
! opened her eyes. Bewildcred, as well
she might be, when she remembered what
had come to her in her last moment of
sense and reason, she believed herself in
heaven, and addressed the priest as if he
were the Father to whom she had COM
mitted herself in her dying hour.
"Father-God, | am innocent. Have
mercy on Thy child"
The deep and touching pathos with
which she uttered these words, drew tears
from their eyes. AS she looked around
upon the apartment, she seemed gradual
" to realize that she was still on earth {:
and then her two friends calmly told her
what had happened. Her emotions were
irrepressibe. She graspcd u hand Of
each of her new friends, and wept as il
her heart would break, from excess Of joy.
Secrecy was now to be desired, in every
relating to her. The priest himself went
to ladies' furnishing establishment. and
purchased complete suit Of mourning,
with deep Grape veil, that enyeloped her
whole fgurc.
Long before tie morning dawncd, Louis
Lavalle's carriage was conveying them
far away from Paris, toward the same
provincial town which she once called her
home. On the way she coniIcd to Louis
her history, and told him OF her lovers
mistortunes. One sigh was given by her
hearer to the new interest she had inspir-
ed in his heart, but lie nob!y led her into
the presence of the beloved Francis.
1t happened that this day was the :er-
mination Of the year that ouise had set
for her absence, and Francis had begun
to look Tor her return. When at length
he held her to his heart sudden pang
seized him, on looking at the handsome
Laval!e. Louise saw the chaLge in his
looks, and Immediately began to state her
obligations, without stating their nature.
That was reserved for another hour.
And now" said the good old priest
who had accompanied them. the name
Of Louise Montaine must be lost from
( this hour. She must be married without
delay, and the world must not know that
| she exists"
Blushing through her tears, Louise
gave her hand to Francis, whose amaze
.uent was only equaled by his delight at
this termination Of his fears. The priest
pronounced the marriag, rite, and Louis
and the old woman who kept house for
Francis were the witnesses. The priests
idea of keeping her existence secret was
overruled by Louis Layalle, who deter
mined to establish her innocence, and ex-
pose the author Of her sufferings.
He succeadpl in so doino-Auruste