The St. Cloud journal. [volume] (St. Cloud, Minn.) 1866-1876, 1872-01-18

uc1ro" SET forth on the trldge back to
their far, lone homes. Others, with
almost low-necked dresses, ard wide,
loose muslin collars. They ara all
tramping hither and tbither, talking
very merrlly, bustling Paul and Lc.
more with their stout Breton elbows.
threatening them with their heavy
sabots, which at any momeut may
come pounding down on their feet.
f'You had better take my arm,"
says Paul, with protecting air, as
they move slowly along, 81 might
easily mislay You in this crush, and,
if I did, it would be like looking for a
needle 10 bottle Of hay to try and
find you again."
"It would be no great harm if you
dtd mislay me-" she answers, with a
pretty air of independence. 81, who
have travelled all over England, Soot-
land, and Ireland quite by myself, am
hardly atrrid Of coming to harm in the
half dozen safe yards that intervene be-
tween here and the Hotel de France.
"What business had you to travel all
over England, Scotland, and Ireland, by
yourself?" he asks, brusquely. "It
was very wrong Of your people to let
you"
"Of course,' she answers; with
irony, "of course. I onght to have had
maid to carry my dressing. ase, and a
footmau to take my ticket and look af.
ter my luggage. So l will, some day,
when I marry the Marquis of Ca.abas,
or-or Frederick :"
"You will meuer marry Frederick /"
he says vehemently, involuntari]y
pressing the small hand that lies on his
arm close to his side. "Never! NEv.
Err !V Cooking down At her face, on
| which the daring candles are throwing
capricious little crimson aushes).
"shall not I ?" she says, lifting her
limpid innocent gave to his. II do
not know" He is silent, at least as ia,
as speech goes. He has forgotten the
pardon, the white caps, the thron2ing
peasants. His reason Is drowning fas,
-fast-in the unfathomed wells Of ,
womao'a alate-blue eyes. "You tolt
me just now that I might do worse,'
she says, under her breath.
$50 you might" he says, with some
excitement. $50 you might, I said
true you might" with rather reck.
less laugh)-"you might marry-me
who am the younger son of younger
son-have not sixpeuce to bless my
self with, and have the devils owl
temper to boot"
At his words her head droops for
ward, like snow-drop's, weighed
down with happy shame !; her hand
falls from his arm. It is past eleven
O'clock the people are hurryiug into
church again for midnight mass. Al
the door every one gives up his OF
her candle to men stationed to receive
item. There is great heap, as higt
as your shoulder, already in the porch
y throng Of peasants-lean, long men
stout, square women big lads-come
pushing by, nearly hosting Lenore Of
her legs. As they pass she utters I
little aharp cry of pain.
"What is it? Are you hurt?'
asks Paul, vigorously shoulderine
aside the peasants, who are beginning t.
crowd again as thickly as ever, ant
digging his elbows viciously into tn
} plump ribs Of matron behind him.
"1t is nothing" she says, littl
family "one of them trod on me.
think, and a sabot is not the lightest =
there p (bcginuing to laugh a little
edo not look as if you were beat Of
knocking somebody down ; it would b
sure to be the wrong somebody"
"You are hurt" he says, with vasu
indignation, gazing down solicitoust.
at the cheeks that the little sudde
pain has drained of their sweet, re
i blood; II know you are, only you al
l too spirited to own it."
, "You are wrong," she says, smiling
: "from child I have always cried ou
before I was hurt"
"Leau on me; lean all your weigh
{ on me" says Paul, obligingly, draw
ing her away out Of the press, and Int
, 4 little side street.
"Ah here is 4 door.step-let As s
dom and rest."
The little street is quite dark, .
least on the side where Paul and Ii
8 more a:e; as dark as the Place D
Gueaclin under the lines. Only Q
! the faces Of the houses opposite tn
9 moonbeams are sliding pearl-white.
II never could bear PAIN" says th
3 girl, lauguidly, leaning her bac|
against the closed door of the unsee
= house. "I never could understan
!. that line Of Longfellow's-
TO suffer and be strong
. TO suffer and screans,' is my version.
G There is momentary pause oetwec
them. They are beginning to feel :
i if they need not be talking all tn
: while. In the deep stade where the
o are sitting they can hardly see eac'
D others's faces they only feel one an
Others pleasant proximity. The tram
J. tramp of wooden shoes, the dis,a.
Il chant, banded about, tossed this wa
md kh a. ~, <ho f.o1;o .;,. oou. -.