The Grange advance., 1874-06-17
with q fierce light, and his breath came hot
and fast through his parted lips.

',~A>> '~ >-NA V>S3AA AAo paItcu IL kS.
My God! have pity upon me, exclaimed
his listener. It's false-I swear that it
is false she added, raising her eyes with
firm, full gaze.
You believe me mad, then,' G,ainued
De Ceran, that I should credit the words
OF dying man in preference to your ownY
Again, l tell You, his words a,e burned
into my memory, buried in my heart,
which they have broken. In one brief
hour I lost all, and. in moment Of rage,
OF despair, could have killed him with my
own hand, but remembered that he wa
my brother, and through days Of torture I
stood beside him. When deaths hand had
chilled him came to you. You were
about to become a mother. Out of the
great love had once felt for you l found
room to pity you. I separated you from
your friends. took you to Italy; there
had courage to wait, and it was only when
your son, whom you dared to call by the
name Of Henri, no longer needed you, that
told you all-told you that despisedS
you.'
And then, as now, l told you am in
nocent! knelt at your feet, clung to you.
but you We're deaf to my words. You have
cast me from you; you have condemned
without hearing what l have to say in my
own Defence
Speak, then, if you will, responded De
Ceran, iercely.
I was not g1ilty,' continued the wo-
man, and yet have been forced to hide
myself under an assumed name, tears my
only refuge. For six long years I wan.
dered around the house where my son
dwelt to catch passing glimpse of his dear
face. At length you learned that this one
joy rem aimed to me, and in your blind and
wilful hate you robbed ME of that You
took my child from the school. followed
you from city to city until you reached
Paris. Unseen 7 have watched over my
boy. Octave de Ceran, you have deprived
me Of his love, you have denied me his
caresses, and yet you have never called
him your son. you have never spoken to
linn of his mother
Never!' was the firm response.
And yet he is your son!'
At this moment cry was heard without
the pavilion. Mother! mother!' ex-
claimed Henri, as pale and trembling he
entered the room and threw his arms
around the trembling woman whose voice
could only family murmur the words:
My son!' as she clasped him to her
breast.
Father!' exclaimed Henri, as ne gently
extricated himself from her embrace my
mother, oh! give her back to me-
Octave responded Nine. de Ceran
feebly, through your son the voice Of
Heaven speaks Hear me when repeat
that am innocent!'
Monsieur de Ceran stood pale and tremh-
ling. Before him knelJ the woman he had
so loved, and beside her the son he had
refused to acknowledge. Overcome by the
violence of his emotion, De Ceran leaned
for support against the paneling near which
he stood; suddenly it yielded to the pres
sure Of his body, and turning, he per-
ceived through the opening package of
, ers carefully sealed. :.
At glance he recognized the hand
writingof his brother. Seizing the pack
age, Monsieur de Ceran glanced toward tn
mother and her son; this, then, he thought
was the proof of her gilt. The eyes Of
Henri were upon him. With shudder he
advanced toward the light, and extended
his hand to burn the fatal papers. In an
instant Eugene was beside him.
'Those papers, she exclaimed, 'are:my
last hope. Read them, implore YOU
1t is your wish?' inquired De Ceran.
1T is.'
As she spoke he broke the seal. The
package contained papers and portrait
The portrait was that Of Eugene de Ben
aville. The letters were signed Eugene
de Benaville. All was clear. The error
alone lay in the name, and Eugene de c.
ran, the pure, the honest wife and mother,
had for fifteen long years, suffered for the
crime of another.
:Father' exclaimed Henri.
My son! responded De Ceran.
Leading his father to the mother who had
suffered so bitterly, Henri de Ceran left
him knee]ing at her feet, and closed the
door upon their happy reconciliation.
How much our home comforts are de-
| nendent upon the capacity of our servants