Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1872-07-17
My dear, what is it that you think

" My dear, what is it that you think
I have asked of you?"
Her, sweet, tender eyes met his and
slowly, as his meaning dawned on her,
the rose tints faded from her soft
cheeks.
"What can think What could ]
think?" she faltered, "but that you
wanted me TO be your wife )?
Let us hope he had the grace to bow
his head, before those pure eyes. But
little by little he pulled the fond illu-
sion away He had wife at home, he
told her; but he loved her-little Mar
guerite-and be would always be true
to her, aud all her hard life WAS over
now, if she would cling to him
"Ohl " she cried, writhing from his
arms, {" know what the picture means
now. [ am that poor Margaret, and"-
she looked behind her, as il she really
expected to see the fiend himself
6 oh, you have broken my heart . she
sobbed, slipping down at his feet.
He was very patient, he was 50 sure
of ultimate success, and he could afford
TO wait. He took her home, parted
from her at the door with kiss, aud
left her. He sent her supper up to her
room that night, and Il little note tell
ing her again of his undying love,
And the next morning he tapped at
all was silent as the grave. Becoming
alarmed, he called Victor, and together
they forced the lock.
No Marguerite was there The tray
stood untouched, the dainty white roll
uneaten; the chocolate cold III the cup
From that day the Latin Quarter
knew Marguerite no more. The kindly
sun that had looked i'll upon her pretty
face as she set by her window ut her
work, saw, soon, a new face and figure.
Another lodger came; a few papers and
odd trltles were saved for me by Victor,
and the rest of the poor furniture was
sold off to pay the rent.
Beauchamp fingered awhile, and
then departed. Perhaps he forgot her
Perhaps he remembered her too well,
and was glad to shake off the haunting
association.
The first day of October, [ came
back, and a great pain smote my heart
at the black news. A little thread of
hope was left, however, and with what
small clews [ had / followed up the
search 1t led me through various
poor lodging houses, and at last to the
hospital. And here, standing III the
long ward, [ asked of a sanity sister OF
Mercy for Marguerite.
She pointed to a little white bed,
freshly made and clean. "Ob, Mar
gueite !"
"Only yesterday. She sank slowly.
l think the hope OF seeing you kept her
here many days after the call came TO
go"
/ was too much overcome to speak
" She never went back to the Quar-
tier, said the nurse, presently. " She
was sorely tempted many times, Wheti
York failed, and when she fell Ill. But, .
she said, q" loved him. There was
nothing else so strong Ill me as my love
I could only keep away" Poor little
lamb
"And her body z"
q Oh, said the sister, with look OF
distress. = Monsieur knows. There
was no one TO claim her. Oh, mon
sie,rl"
/ [ remembered, then, with cold hor-
ror. that it is custom, in the hospitals
! to give the bodies of those poor peo
pie. who have no friends to tie medical
colleges for dissection. There was no
sleep for me that night. As soon as
the darkness fell | called my Teutonic
ally, and we began our tour OF search.
/ spare my reader the story Of the
night.
We Vent presently to Clamart, and
there, in what with horrld facetious-
ness the students call the "Salle de
Reception" l found my poor little
Marguerite. Her beauty which was
still most touching, had kept sacreligi-
ous hands away from her, aud the poor
delicate little body was laid away,
unharmed, Under the v1olets at Mont
! Parnass9. 1t was al L could do for