The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1870-04-28

They camo to the gates at last, whe-
only few weeks ago Dick had told h.
OF his love for Refine the whole thin
seemed running through her head Il
the unvinding Of .sksin. While For
taine was talking to tho b,iliff she wen
and rang at the bell, and told Baptist
who opened to door, that she wanted t
90 up to her room.
"Mais certainement, madame! Won
allez bien? Vous voyez il ny q plu
personne." Catharine crossed the h,l
and looked into the deserted drsvine
room-how different it looksd-hov
silent The voices and music hal Diff
ed elsewhere, AID Cathar;ue Geosre
she no longer existed. Only . Ittl.
smoke was left curling from the char.
ed embers and relics of the past
Thinking thus, she went up to her OWL
old little room, which was dismantled
and looked quite empty, and as if it
had belonged to dead person.
Catharine's heart was very full she
looked round and about; the sunset
was streaming in through the curtain
less window; she heard the faint old
sound Of the sea she went 20 the l,t-
tie secretaire presently, and opened one
OF the drawers and looked in.
That last night when she had been
packing her clothes, she lad come up-
on one little relic which she had not
had the heart to destroy. She had
thrust it into 4 drawer in the bureau
where she had already thrown some
dead n,arguerites, and locked it in.
No one finding it there vouA have
been any the wiser. Il vas sely q
dead crumpled brown rose which Dick
had picked up of the gra1s oos day,
but that had not prevented it from
wlthering like other roses. Il w still
lying in the drawer among . handful Of
dry marguerites. Who would hsve
guessed that the whole story of her
lite was written upon these vithered
stalks and leaves? She felt Is if the
story and life all had belonged to some
one else. She opened the drawer-no
one else had been there. As she took
up the rose thorn pricked her finger.
"Neither scent, nor color, nor smell,
only thorn left to prick, Catherine
sadly sighed "these other poor limp
flowers at least have no thorns," So
she thought. Then she went and sat
down upon the bed, and began to tell
herself how good Fon :aiue had besn to
her, land to say to herself that it was
too late aow to wonder whether she
had done rightly or wrongly in marry
ing him. But, at least, she would try
to be good, aud contented, and not
ungratefal. Perhaps, if she was very
good, and patient, and contented, she
might SEQ Dick again some day, and be
bis fliend and Reine's, and the thorn
would be gone out Of the dead rose.
Fonta'ne's voies calling her name dis
turbed her resolutisns.
She found her husband Whiting tor
her at the foot Of the stairs.
"shall We revisit togsth~ the spot
where We first read in each others
hearts" said be, sentimsntally.
"Not this evening"" said Catha.;ns,
gently. II should like to 60 down 70
the sea before it grows quite dark"
Every body had not LETT Petitport,
for one Or two families were still ST.
ting In their little wooden boxes along
the edge of tha ssnds, and a hum of
conversation seemed sounding in the
air with the monotonous wash of the
sea. The ladies wore brightrcolored
hoods; the waves gray, fresh, ana buoy
ant, rising in crisp crests against faint
yellow sky. A great line of soft
clouds, curled and tossed by high cur
rents Of wind, was crossing the sea.
One or two pale brown stars were COM
ing out one by one, pulasting like little
living hearts in the vast universe.
Catharine went down close to the wat
er's edge, and then threw something
she held in her hand rs far Is she could
throw.
"What is that 7" Fontaine asksd, ad-
justiug his eyselass.
"Only some dead flowers I found in
a drawer" said Catsazine:
my dear child, Why give yourself
such needless trouble !" aaksd he
practical husband. "You might have
left them where they were o. in the
courtyard, if you did not wish to litter
the room, or"
"It was little piece Of sentiment"
said Catharine, humbly trying to make
a confession. "Some one gave me a
rose once in England, long ago, and" >.
"Some one who-who-who loved
you, Fontalno interrupted, in . sud-
den fume, stammering and turning
round upon her.
"Oh no." Catharine answered; "you
are the only person who has ever loved
me-"
She said it 20 gently and sweetly that
Fontaine was touched beyond measure.
Aud yet, though she spoke gently, his
sudden anger had terrified her. She
felt guilty that she could not bring
herself to tell him more. She could