The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1870-06-02

ssst - alaaI, AAo y dsloe D 1aa0 sO0Os
"his door Was open as I passed"
Asleep ah perhaps it Is the best
thing for him. Tell me, is any ono
stirring in the house7'
~ think, msdame, that Nile Comte
is srising.II .. .s
"Barbe go and knock gently at his
door. All! no; prepare my dressing
things and small cup Of coffee, and
one for yourself. I want yeu to come
with me to the chalet. I must 60 and
see alter that poor child. All! what :
terrible scene! I little thought when
they sent for me ;"
When Barbe and her Mistress reach
ed the village it was all alive with early
voices. The morning after the storm
had broken with brilliant sunshine,
although great mountains of clouds
still hung in mid-air. The doors we're
open, the people busily coming and 60
ing, the plants in the gardens were
bathed in brightness. Even Madame
Potter was at her unopened shop. She
stared at Madame de Tracy, who, for
the frat time for inany years, appeared
in public without her frizzy curls.
"You have heard the news, madame?'
she cried. "They came back ia the
night. They managed to get to shore
at St. Laurent! 1t is q miracle"
From ths steep ascent to tie chalet
Madame de Tracy coald see the figures
crowdiug down below like ants, to clear
away the great piles Of black sea-weed,
and gather the harvest which the storm
had cast upon the shore. Nanon had
her holte full Of the long hanging
'fringes: carts hsaped with the futter-
ing ribbons slowly rolled away. Poor
Catharlne, too, saw the sight, looking
out at early dawn, and languldly won.
dering what the bright. lights moving
here and there upon the beach could
mean. Were they watching as she
was? It seemed to her like great
pail cast up out of the sea, and she
turned away With a sickening pang aud
a groan. She was afraid she had awak
ened Toto, who was lying asleep in .
great chair, but the poor child only
stirred uueasily, and breathed gently to
sleep again.
About midday the storm came on
again with SO much fury that they were
obliged to close the shutters of the
chalet, and burn candles all day long.
On the third day it abated, and poor
Fontaine was laid in his grave
Once after the funeral Catharins sav
the little feather brush which had vex-
ed her 30 often lying on table. She
cadght it up, the poor little widow, in
her long black dress, and covered it
with kisses and tears. Tears of such
tender love, aud longing, and remorse
no hero of romance, no knight dying
in tournament, could have inspired
truer and more tender sorrow.
On the third day after the storm
Refine came walking quietly across the
fields from the station, wrapping her
cloak round about her, for the evening
was chill. Every thing looked dusky,
silent low pale lights were shining
through the broken heaps of cloud
that were, at last, dispensing in the
west. The salt pool under the dark
bushes at the end of the road was
cleaning with these pale lights. The
horses in the fields were moving here
and there, scarcely distinguishable in
the darkness. Just over the farm,
where the clouds had not yet risen, a
little bit Of red moon was hanging.
The lights were pale chilly gold; but
some deep shadows were heaping
against the faint background. The
windows of the farm were lighted up
warmly, and looked home-like and well
coming to the young mistress of the
house as she reached the great arch
and went in.
She thought her own home had new
er looked 50 ohme-like, with its friendly
scanned face, and: quaint yet familiar as
pect. She had a feeling as of a living
friend or spirit of the hearth welcom-
ing her, and inclosing her within open
arms. She was glad to come back to
liberty, to daily work-glad to meet
her grandfather-glad to meet Dick
once more. But something's pre-
sentiment, perhaps, growing out Of the
feelings of the last few days-seemed
to mix with the happiness which she
felt. 1t was like little bitter taste, a
little passing fear-like a small
cloud no bigger than mans hand ris-
ing out of the horizon. q
We all know how strangely, zas We
travel on in life, we suddenly reach
new countries, states of mind, and of
being, undreamt of, or at least unreal
lied by us. Those terrible phantoms
Of our youth the selves to be Of the
future-come silently upon us before
we are aware. They come vigorously,
at first, impatiently, with quick blood
flowing. Then more Indifferent Then
middle-aged, csreworu, lean and shr'
pered figures, advancing quietly out o.
the unknown, whispering secrets TO vi
which we have not suspected, telling