New Orleans Republican., 1868-12-15
CON N Q Z D.
Chapter II.

| For several weeks time passed as usual al
the old ruin. No more sudden appearances
startling Marie from the window, she soou
came to think less frequently of the
stranger; but for several days old Magic
hsd lost her usual flow of spirits, and
dropped sadly. Her looks were often bent
upon Marie with more than usual tender.
ness, and once, when this was the case, the
child had noticed that her aged eyes were
filed with tears, and with the quick impulse
of her nature she bounded to her side,
wrapped her arms about the withered neck,
and, between her own falling tears and
teasing laughter, tried to console her with
words of comfort and tender chiding.
| MY dear, good old nurse, how foolish
you are. know you just want me to scold
you. Who ever heard ofa grown-up woman
worrying so about q raven croaking
3 little? Why! dear nurse, that is their
natural note; and, anyway, did not the
beautiful doves do away with the trouble he
foretsld? Come, come, l can not laugh SO
freely or SO happily while you droop so."
"Ah! petite bijou, it is not SO much for
| you that old Magic grieves; thank God that
it is no worse for my darling. At first you
will weep great DEAL but by and by you
will learn to live without nurse and be
| happy
"0h! nurse, what do you mean! Surely,
you are not going to leave me! How, oh!
how, could live in this great old house
without you," ,-'. A7.--
The rounded arm again clasped the shri-
veled neck, and the curly little head nestled
on the loving bosom.
az shall not leave you, darling; never
have since the day ] took you, petite
babe, from your dying mothers arms; but
God is going to take me from you. 1t
would all be well enough, for have seen the
good Father; if it were not for leaving my
petite belle-but no more tears la belle
Marie; only promise me that when you get
another to fill my place she shall not be
nurse, but a servant" 8.
II promise you, dear nurse, that no one
shall ever fill your place in the house or in
my heart, but God is not going to take you
from me-you will live many years yet"
Marie kissed away the falling tears but
could not kiss away the touch of death
resting upon the aged form. Morning did
not present Magic in Msrie's room at the
usual hour, and the child awoke after the
sun had been gliding her room for an
hour with its golden rays; the bird was trill-
ing forth his richest notes as if he had been
wooing to her slumber rosy tinted dreams
by flood of sweet melody. It was her Gus
tom to answer his morning song; but now
not note responded, while with quickly
beating heart she slipped her feet in her
slippers, drew around her dressing robe,
and almost flew up the stairs to nurses
room. Old Magic was gone, but the aged
form which had so long clasped the child to
q heart of love was rigid in death. The
shrieks ofehildren have something so pierc.
ing, SO heart rending in them that they fill
us with a fearful dread; .and as old Grevot
was startled from his morning nap by
Marie's ringing through the old lruin, he
followed their sound with q wild horror
surging through his soul, and IS his arrival
on the spot revealed the cause he heaved
deep sigh of relief caught his lolild in his
arms and bore her from the room of
death. The body was consigned to the
grave with all the rites of her church.
Marie wept long and bitterly; but, as Magic
had said, time appeased her grief and she
was once more happy. As time withdrew
the tendrils Of her heart one by one, from
her old love, weak and bleeding they turned
to her father, who gathered them up and
bound them about his own warm, loving
heart and nourished them with its life.
blood into health and strength again. Old
Grevot proposed q servant girl to take the
place of Magic; but since Marie had been SO
much with her father she had noted that
his step was feebler, and had overheard
conversation between him and one Of her
teachers, which revealed to her that money
was not always at his command. She was
now nearly fourteen, and she resolved that
this expense should not be placed upon
him, and she persuaded him that she
would be happier without another in
her old nurses place. This one sensible
loss Of her life had taught her young heart
all the terror Of death to the living, and she
redoubled her care for her father, hoping
to lengthen out his days equal with her
own. Ifihe locked more weary and worn
than usual, a cold shudder passed through
her frame and settled about her heart; and
now the singing about the old ruin took
lower sound, softer cadence, and the
laugh was less frequent, less joyous than Of
yore; in fine, sorrow and care were doing in
few months what 1t would have taken
years TO doiWithout them, developing her
into womanhood. ta i,s-a 81 ~ '4sas /
Since the day the stranger visited old
mother Clarity her sign had been taken
down, the raven banished to the back yard,
and she nor more followed her old VEGA
tion, save when the young sought her
to know when husbands. or wives would
be their fate; but sincethe death of Maggie,
Marie visited her st intervals of about d
month, and Gsrity was sure to and her way
to the old ruin once or twice anonth. This
might have been from the association OF
Maeie's memory with the old crone, butlwe
suspect that It was due to certain assurances
about a stranger long since gone not that
Marie ever asked about him, but that Garity
even. volunteered remarks Of him. i7si I
Pleasant as was this one romance Of her
young life to dwell upon, Il could not erase
care from her heart; for her ihther's step
daily grew feebler, and he oftener needed
money, and Marie sew that she htustl al
something to supply the deficiency. nh
was more dihicult for her than ia dldal 4
her fatheF's retired habits 'had idsaIel
her every advantageous acquaintance