The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1875-05-21

Doe NoNuiA0u, SHJhAH ~ Was 100
costly q gift.
care we not friends1" he cried, his
lip curling with superb scorn. GLOW
talk you then of costl"
"Two, then, to be mounted as sleeve
buttonsi" Still l shook my head, and
still PERSISTED.
"Here then, mon ami" he said at
last. eff you will not have two, you
shall have one;" and, taking my hand,
he placed one large, pure, lustrous pearl
on the palm, and closed my fingers
over it. "It shall be mounted like this, >
drawing a design on the lid of the box,
''and you shall wear it for a sign, Then
you see, shall have its mate set in the
same manner. 1t shall be for a token
between us; and the pearls shall bring
us together again. Ali know It'll The
pearls-they are charmedl"
"Ah, M. L'Estrangel" i answered,
4 cannot resist longer. 1 will wear your
pearl; and it shall at least be souvenir
of days never to be forgotten"
As he was replacing the box, card
photograph fell to the floor. 1 picked
it up, and was handing il tofhim, when
my eyes fell upon a face of such rare
loveliness that held the little picture
as if spellbound--a woman's face, softly
outlined, delicately rounded; pure,
calm forehead, chin and cheeks that
might well have served as models for a
sculptor. There were soft locks resting
about the throat;anda a lace shawl, thrown
gracefully over the stately head, rested
lightly on the shoulders, like a radiant
cloud. But the eyes were the glory Of
the picture; large, dark, spiritual eyes,
that looked into yours with unfathoma-
BILE meaning in their liquid depths.
Ny self-possession and my manners
returned to me at the same moment.
81 beg your pardon" 1 said, depre-
as 1 gave the picture to the
owner; "but it is so beautiful 1t is your
wife"
"My wife? No." he said, with low,
wise smile, "But it is my Marguerite
ny pearll"
There was no time for further speech.
We were at Calumet, L'Estrange threw
lis arm around me in his impulsive
French fashion, and kissed my cheek
With a warm "God bless youl" Another
moment and our short chapter of ro-
nance was ended.
But was there no second chapter!
certainly, or should hardly have
hought it worth while to tell you this.
returned to New York in few weeks,
lad my pearl mounted precisely as
! I'Estrange had directed, and wore it, at
irst, with half superstitious feeling
hat it was truly link between us, and
Vould one day draw us together 1t was,
tall events, powerful in one way. 1t
vas, indeed, as he had said, a sign, a
oxen. 1t kept fresh and green in my
memory what else might have gradually
AIDED away as one of the many forgotten
Incidents of life thatwas changefu and
un of adventure.
But is was not his face only that it re-
allied. never wore it without seeing,
IS in a vison, the dark, sou-llit eyes that
at me from the photograph
he pure, calm brow. the tender, wistful
mouth, Of my friends "Margurite. "
Jot his wife, but doubtless his bethroth-
d. What other meaning could give
o the sudden light that Illuminated his
ace as he exclaminedin that last, hurried
moment, 'It is my Marguerite-my
,earlF''
'1 shall write youfrom San Francisco"
Ie had said. But days, weeks, and
months, heightened into years and 1
leard nothing. My pearl scarf pin was
he only token that those charmed days
# travel had been more than a dream.
believed that he was dead.
Last summer was in Paris. Early J
me morning I went to the Madeline, and {
Gaming againt one of the futed columns s
7atched the worshippersas they came and |
rent. 6
AS stood near one of the great L
rome doors, Lady, yelled, and gather !
lg the folds of her mantle closely about
er throat, passed me with light step. ]
he figure was exquisitely graceful, and,
watched her with young mans idle
uriosity as she knelt at her prayers, t
if her face was worthy of her 6
orm. As she rose, fresh breeze from )
u opening door blew back her veil, and {
caught passing glimpse of her fea- s
ures.
All the blood in my veins rushed mad =
= to my heart. Surely it was the face /
# my dreams-the face of my friends
dargueritcl Yet it seemed a younger
ace; perhaps less Madonna-like than in i
,icture, haloed by cloud-ike drapery. |
lou see had not forgotten the slight a
st pecuhlrity of the photograph. Iii
ould have sworn to the very pattern of
he lace.
Before recovered my senses she had 6