The States and Union. [volume] (Ashland, Ohio) 1868-1872, 1870-01-19


i Vivienne counted the eight solemn
d strokes, and bent her head that her
c lips might touch her mothers hand.
r So the night wore ON, and hour af-
e ter hour the hands that clasped Vivi-
s enne's grew colder, yet the end did
e not come.
: The short summer night had pas
e sed, and the morning breeze stole gen
r tly through the windows, from which
l the curtains had been withdrawn.
L The eyelids of the dying woman, that
had been closed in the gray, morning
: twilight, opened gently as an infants;
the eyeswandered from Vivienne's
t face to the rosy sky. There was a
, movement of the pale lips, fiecting
smile on the white face, and with one
gentle Sigh, Madame Beranger had
| ceased to breathe.
For a moment Vivienne knelt with
those pale hands still clasping hers
then she gently folded them on the
quiet bosom, and rose up from the
couch. Her work was ended now,
and in her weary heart there was no
thought but passionate longing to
| pass beyond the gates which parted
her from the mother she had lived
for. = -
Pallid as the corpse she had left,
with bowed head and woeful eyes, she
went from the chamber of death.
On the threshold stood Duroc. his
eyes glittering with malicious triumph.
He learned toward her, and half
whispered, 'tMadame has, forgotten
the penalty attached to what she has
done.'
She looked at him quietly, and his
evil eyes sunk before the dignity and
purity of her glance. ~
mo, monsieur she said, simply,
Il have not forgotten. am no long
er mistress here, and we are going
away, my mo ther and T."
She glided past him, and entering
her own chamber, summoned Elise,
and began to give directions for the
funeral of her mother.
Vixienne was adored by every per-
son on the estate, and she knew her
requests would be obeyed, though the
right to command was no longer hers
She wished that her mothers body
should be laid, not in the drear vaults
of Hautlieu, but in the green church
yard of the village, and that the
hands of the humble peasants, who
loved her so faithfully, should per-
form the last sacred duties for the
dead.
1t was doEe as she directed. In the
ht,shed calm of t e mid summer even |
ing, the day after her death, they laid |
Madame de Beranger in the peaceful
church-yard and rough peasants Sob
bed aloud as they gazed ut the black |
robsd figure, and the pale, lovely face |
of the young marquise, who stood
alone head of the grave.
When at last all was finished, Vivi-
enne turned away, and leaning on the !
arm of the sobbing Elise, she went
slowly along the path leading to the
cottage of Elise's father. 1t was here
that she bad determined to seek shell
ter for few days, till she was able
to go to the distant convent in which
she had teen educated, and which she
had been assured by the abbess would
gladly receive her again. -.
Vivienne had determined to leave
the chateau Immediately. for her at
tendants told her that "Monsieur lie
Marquis was expected every hour"
and she would not meet that bold, bad
man.
In the lowly cottage of Elise's par
ents she was welcomed with tears and
blessings and beneath a PEASANTS
roof she found peace and repose she
had never known in the proud Cha
teau de Hautlieu. The night brought
her gentle, healthful slumbers, and the
morning, though it reused her to re-
memberance of her grief. bore
also sense of consolation and safety.
When the MONDAY sun shone bright
~, Vivienne sat by her latticed win
dow, leaning her brow against its
frame, and listening to the soothing
hum of a spinning wheel in the ad-
joining room. Suddenly the wheel
stopped. There was strange step
on the cottage floor, a murmur of
voices, and Elise entered the room
with an excited face.
Madame" she cried, monsieur le
Marquis is arrived. He wishes to see
you. Oh, madamel something has
l do not know how to tell
you. Will you go and speak to mon
sieur p
Vivienne rose, bewildered by the
girls excitement and incoherence,
and hesitatingly adv anced to the door.
She shrunk from seeing that cold,
cruel, insolent face, and yet there
seemed no escape.
Near the open door of the cottage,
in the blaze of the summer sun, stood
a tall figure in the splendid uniform
of an officer of high rank, |
The marquis 1t was Leon Leon's
brilliant eyes fixed themselves raptur-
ously upon her face. Icons dear
voice called her name in accents he in
vain endeavored to render calm and
his hand clasped hers,
and his lips touched for an instant the
futtering hand he held.
Leon was with her, and she was
free! And in spite of her dimmed
beauty, and her lost gayety, he loved ,
her still. Not word did he utter to
assure her OF that, but not word was
needed. She knew it by the light in
his eyes, and the tender accents of his (
voice. She comprehended it with I
greater ease than did the strange story '
which accounted for his presence here.
She learned at last the one central !
fact that Philip was dead-killed in
iuel, brought on by his own wicked
hess and folly. (,
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