The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1868-12-08

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warm glow over his entire figure; and the
lady thought, as she entered slowly, she
had never seen man who looked so
we'll fitted for his position. She could
not see his face, for his head was bent
low; but she felt that it must be, in
keeping with his whole appearance, saint
ly. Instinctively she sunk upon her
knees, murmuring softly, "Your bles-
sing: holy father"
Brother Ambrose shivered, and he
leant against his chair for support
When he spoke, his voice vas faint and
strained
81 could not do aught but bless thee,
|my daughter"
At the sound of his voice the blood
|ebbed and flowed in the lady's face, and
she sprang to her feet Brother Ambrose
was standing, clutching the chair for
support, and his face was as hueless as
the grave. All his firmness was gone,
and he was trembling in every limb. He
tried to speak, but his voice failed him;
and sinking into his chair, he bowed his
head on his hands, with convulsive sob.
The Countess was the calmer of the two
and as his firmness left him, hers increas-
ed. She sank at his feet, and bowling
her head before him, said reverently and
tenderly:
Forgive me for this suffering, Am
brose. l did not know you were here.
| came to seek the abbot"
Brother Ambrose mastered himself by
a powerful effort.
! "The abbot is in Rome" he said;
"and I fill his place till his return. Do
not blame yourself, Julie. I knew that
we must meet again some day, and l
should have been better prepared for it.
1 trust you have been happy?"
Happy" Her voice had a sorrow
in it that words could not express. "Do
look as if / had been happy, Am
brose ?"
The monk was silent; for, as she
raised her face to his gaze. he could see
written in every feature, the story of her
welded life.
s'God help you to bear !" he said, at
last, for the silence was becoming pain
full to both. God help you to bear it !
1t might have been different had you lis
tened to me; but you loved me not"
The lady was silent; but in the glance
she bent on him the young monk read
the contradiction of his assertion. 1t
was not want of love on her side that
had parted them. 1t was difference OF
station. His had been too humble a
spere for her to stoop to, and she had
married according to her rank, and he
had sought to conquer his love in sor-
row and seclusion from the world; yet
here, by some mysterious chance, they
had met again. Each was vaguely con-
scious that their reunion, if reunion 1t
could be called, was not for the best; but
both were happ:et than they had been
, kind of reckless happiness.
After this visit there was change In
Brother Ambrose's manner. The sad
mess which had marked it remained, but
the abstraction which his companions
had noticed vanished, and was succeed
ed by the most perfect self-possession
He never relaxed the discipline of the
7 monastery, and his duties were we'll and
l faithfully attended to. At the request
of the Countess, he went regularly once
week to the castle to confess her; and
when he came away it was always witt
1 kind Of delirious happiness beamine
) from every feature Of bis face.
Brother Ambrose was a good man
: heart; and he was sincerely anxious te
prove faithful to his vows. Yet he had
not the moral courage to resist the temp
: tation which the woman he loved helc
!. out to him. Of the two, she was thu
guiltier party; and yet she had her ex
;; cuse. She was married to man sht
II did not love, and he whom she worship
ped with all her woman's heart was neal
her. With recklessness that surprised
q even herself, she determined to avail
IL herself of the happiness thus PLACED
within her grasp; and she spared ne
l. pains to accomplish her object. Hae
9 any one looked into the apartment wher'
she received her priestly lover, he nigh
s have seen the lady clasped in Brothe
IL Ambrose's arms, her eyes and lips sub
n J, DUNG him by the power Of her beaut!
u and passion, and pressing upon hin
e kisses warm enough to give returnin!
!. !. fire to the yeriest hermit.
u Thus matters went on, until one day
IS the old Counts suspicious being arouse'
l. by some act of his wife, a watch wa
y set upon Brother Ambrose and tn
Countess. They were ignorant of this
: and supposed themselves, safe in thei
III guilty love, when the door Of the apart
e ment was suddenly broken open, an
II the Count de st. Maur rushed in, fol
II lowed by dozen men-at-arms.
l. The proof of his wife's guilt was be
T. fore the old man, for she was clasped i
y her lovers arms, and his kisses wer
i falling on her lips, and brow, and eye
like rain. So sudden was the intrusion
u that the guilty pair were taken befor
'l they were aware of the presence OF tn
: man they had wronged. More throug
H. surprise than with the hope of escape
y they sprang to their feet; and at sig
ne from the Count the armed men range
cl themselves before the door, cutting o
rs u all means of egress from the apartmen
u Brother Ambrose stood silent and mt
ne tionless, his eyes cast down, and h
ae face pale as death. The Countess, ho1
~ ever, met her lords gaze with look
oil defiance; and taking the monks haii
H. she said, proudly, II loved him before
le saw you--before he ever donned tn
ut cowl. loved him with my whole hear
ne and I love him still"
10 The Count made her no reply, but h
oi look was terrible to behold. At a sic
.o from him, the men-at-arms seized Brot
IN er Ambrose and bore him from tt
'ie chamber, while the Count, taking b
d. wife's hand, led her after them. The
N passed through the corridor to the stat
,e case, and descending it, came to tt
ay vaults of the castle.
~. The sight which they there behe
W struck terror even to theheart OF the d
3d. iant Countess. The pavement had be-
. removed, and a large, open grave Il