The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1868-12-12

mere D'kdSuIG III SlUgluS, LLdC WAS all u
which she looked forward.
Gradually, however, as to every true wo-
man comes the revelation almost by intuition
she knew she was passionatey loved BY the
young physician. Daily he brought tokens Of
regard which he had learned in the long
nights when she had wavered between death
and lie-when her face had impressed itself
upon his heart. And so he felt almost eaoer
to take into his own hands the trust OF fbe
life he had saved.
she knew so little of love that when he
talked % her OF 1t she was not even startled,
noruid she feel great gratitude TO him. 1t
was fatality, she thought. ;he was to live
ana sing, and she rejOiced unspPakably in the
thought. d At lying alone in the darkne S
one night, she ain heard the rain falling
outsided, and she thong OF her bare and
coniioriless chamber. OF the misery she had
endured there. Could she trust in his 1--we?
But no; for she cOud no. give him her own
heat
Next day be seemed to have OWNED her
thoughts, Tor he told her as sweet a tale of
love as ever wcman's ear had heard, She
should study, living and loving him: and al.
though his parents would oIbid him to mar
ry woman without fortune, he would mary
none ether than her. She should wiz her
fortune by her voice; until then, beng young.
SHOULD they not both he happy and live Who'll
ly tor and with each other?
Did she not see clearly the abyss into
which, then and there, was imminent danger
oil falling? Perhaps. Coud she have avert
ed that danger? Were not the Fates against
her? Had she not struggled long and well
she had no courage to go back to the misery
she had lately lett
In lew days she left The hospital, and in
company with the young ply sieian; viii
whom for two years thereafter she lived
faithfully, TRANQUILITY. She resumed her
studies at the Conservative. She thought
she loved: she persuaded herself she was
happy. She had paid the price. but the at
tainment OF the ideal seemed at hand, and
that-was it not worth while?
No! thousand times yearly she said TO
herself, IN answer to this question, No!
Ono night she went home, to find on her
little table, where the Young physician had
SO often placed her Iavorite book, or those
little mysteries OF ganterie or lingerie which
woman loves, curt note, which signified
that he had been recalled TO his family sud-
denly. Serious illness OF his mother! And
no time even to bid her adieu! But soon he
would return. and meantime, tout toi"
But the real truth was that the young ply
slclan, who had been gradually approaching
his study's completion, had now flushed, and
obesed, not without perhaps his little heart
burnings, the mandate OF his father, who
babe him homeland commanded him TO cut
loose from Paris and all his connaisances
there, and make ready to meet Madeleine,
VINO was fresh from the pension, and "aIto-
eether most charming" SO Marie never sa y
him more. Good care he took of tat. tie
gGtidrd!
Not wholly unprovded for was she left ard
just ready to leave the Conservatoire. he
Ideal OF song seemed always attainabe, but
how heavier grew the price Did she stag
ger under the blow Goa knows: nav. the
porter knew, next morning, when she trip
ned down so jauntily to the lodge, returned
him the key OF the little room where she lived
SO long, and went round the corner to sit at
the restaurant table, with no familiar face op-
posite her.
She had known all along that it would come
to this. Oh! in her heart of hearts how bit
terly il burned. And that same day it rained.
the skies seemed OF lead, and she went to find
lodg ngs, succeeding poorly, resting finally at
night in ali elegant apartment IN the Quarter
Breda, not lar from the grand boulevards, and
now firmly resolved to try to make Ler talent
OF voice profitable.
Ihey are notes of crystal, MademoiselIe."
cried the delighted director of popular CAFE
chantant, to which she applied for admission:
. and you may SIM; now and then. only he
sure 10 put more bloom upon Your cheeks.
and more artificial flowers on our head. You
are too sad altogether, ma toute 5elier' But
when Marie came again. to practice her song,
and anticipating her debut, her engagement
was cancelled, and, in .ine the director had
taken more violent farcy to young firt
from the provinces, who sang with decidedly
more abandon.
Too late, too late This was the burden OF
her lie. Nothing now seemed possible but to
gradually descend the carefully prepared scale
until she sank forever in degradation, She
had sworn never again to repeat the folly into
which the horrors OF the hospita had forced
her; and now she found that even to succeed
as singer she must sacrifice ner nature,
How braveIy she fought until it was too late.
The current OF disappointed ambition, of
society, crushing cut her lurest aspirations.
torbIddinS her to love, finally bore her down.
FOR Jour years OF her life We cannnt follow
her. In the mad tervol of Carnival: in the
gay cites OF spring and summer at Ma lille and
the Chateau deS Fleurs her history OF those
years is written. The battle was too strong
against her.
She found upheld her. II DIR W her gradually
from lie which to her was one Continued
round OF m sery; it opened the door oil hope,
and The soul which b d seemed drifting iro;n
h;r came back. The rose 10 longer rested
upon d ad bosom. The tree Ut lie was 20
longer encountered with seie blossoms.
Can any good come out OF Nazareth?
Could she love well and truly could she find
true love? Az could aud did she 1t was a
strong and honest love which found her Out
which pardoned all. which lifted her from the
o. the past % The possible WORTH
ness OF the tutuie. 1t promised much. and
offered all il possessed. but bIavely did she
ut herself in penauce, and to-day, the quiet
little teacher OF galruious children in pen
SiOnnGt des danes, she awaits the consum-
nation OF her lite.
While the leaves flicker in the wind: while
the peasants sing their jolly songs in the
quiet forests; whIie June showers its rains
and blossoms: while God iorgives the winter
and forgets the spring; y bile even the cricke.
does nol-besitate 10 chant full lond and long
| record this history, moulded into SOME,
thing of the epic by the suffering in it, o
beats OF ice! melt in the rain of tears! O
Q eyes OF marble! relax in pity! o time, fy
forward swiftly, and bring the good future,
tor you behold her sad when she recalls the
past. Adieu and adeu! May you ever be
cherished and strengthened. Forward the
way is not 50 long as it seems, and even tie
ashes OF lite have yet live Goals hidden be.
meath them.