New Orleans Republican. [volume] (New Orleans, La) 1867-1878, 1875-10-24

| u Will, lnueen! salu the Cn6Valler sud-
denly leaping forward; and as the uncle
shrank back for an instant the younger
man tore the Matchmaking page from the
| volume.
| at is in this way, uncle, save you from
lndloting pain upon YOURSELF! Do not fol-
The elder man had become powerless.
His face fell upon his hands, and as the
nephew left the room, he heard his relative
sob heavily.
He would have done more wisely to let
the page tell its tale.
| CHAPTER Iv.--AT ST. MARTINS.
| Months have passed, and it Is inter.
| The scene is the portico of st. Martins
Church, Paris, and the persons with whom
we have to do are poor. The first is blind
| girl, a singing beggar, and who ia the Or
| phan Louise, forced 10 gain her living by
singing, her tyrant being La Frochard, the
woman who took her home after Henriette
| was carried off.
The others are La Frochard's two sons;
one, the rutfan jacques; the other being
| Pierre. the lame tinker.
| La Frochara and jacques went into a
wine shop, and there it was that Pierre, who
had learned to love the blind girl, drew
| near Louise.
1t was bitterly cold, and the poor girl
| began sbivering, for La FrOchard knew her
|
is as good twister-out of coin as blindness,
while combination of both these miseries
is an income in itself. She looked upon
Louise as gift of Providence, thrown in
| her way for the benefit of herself to some
extent, but more especially for the advan-
tage OF her noble, magnificent son Jacques.
| Pierre crept nearer. making little sound
| for the snow was thick, took off his poor
blouse, and put it round her shoulders
| 'Pierre " she said, as she touched the
| blouse.
"les, Louise. How cold it isl
| Very cold, Pierre
| ut was warm when you first came to live
with us, and the sun was bright"
| That was when l lost my sister,
"And that is why You sing and keep alive.
Louise, that you may find Henrette, l
know. They would have killed you long
since, though they depend on your earnings,
if you had not determined to live in order
to find Henrietta, whom you love"
with all my strength, and heart, and
soul -
at must be very good to be loved by
I you" said Pierre, simply.
But you see, Pierre, we love one another,
and we had never been separated all our
lives until that terrible day when l lost her.
| Oh, she is dead-she is dead"
| "No," interposed Pierre; "she was too
| good to die. She was carried off by some
Ii
that way, and You say she was pretty. Be-
| lieve me. you will find her, or, what is far
| better, she will find you"s
| II do believe you," the poor girl replied;
| "but yet my heart sometimes fails me. For
| months now every day l have sung in the
| streets and she has never heard me. she
would know any one OF the songs l sung in
| O moment, and she would leap at me. But,
| no, never hear her say 'Louise-Louise""
"You see, dear" whispered Pierre, my
mother keeps you in one quarter of Paris,
| while your poor friend may be cooped up
| in some other. She may not be free to 90
| where she likes any more than you are; SO
hope on, little singing birdie-hope on"
How good you are" she said. Some
| times l think 1 should lie down and die,
although l SO much want to touch Henri
| cite again, If it were not for kind word
from you low and then"
She stretched out hand to touch him,
| and then it was she discovered he had
taken off his blouse to keep her warm.
ION. no, no. no,' she said, thYusting it
| towards him. How good you are! But
l don't feel the cold now; it has grown
warmer; it is quite warm. Put on your
blouse directly"
He did as he was requested, and was very
happy and very wretched in one and the
same moment.
Just then q sedan set down a grand iady,
cheery-looking old gentleman, who was
called Doctor by her on the spot, and
who will be here known by no other name.
"Good evening, Countess; l have obeyed
your orders, and the poor people are thank
full"
II am glad to hear railways command
| my purse. i feel for the wretched, for
have been most wretched myself
She bowed and went into the Church of
st. Martin, which she had not visited for a
long time, it being far out of her way, and
the Countess having been an invalid for
some months. Not even did her sight fall
upon the blind girl.
The keen eyes of the doctor, however,
saw the truth in moment, and almost be-
fore the lady had entered the sacred edifce.
What! what blind-blind!" he asked.
"But not always so, am sure!"
"No, SIR" she said; Il have been blind
| not more than five years"
II thought not-I thought not. Have you
had doctors about you, eh-eh!'
Indeed, no, STRIP here said cracked
voice. 1--WE are too poor for physicians"
1t was La Frochard. whom the doctor
drew on one side.
"She may be restored to sight"
"My child see again.' cried the wretched
old harridan. "Oh. blessed day when these
eyes behold it restored to sight-my
Louse!"
II do not say for certain; but she must
be made to hope, or the operation might
fail. What is your addressw
The woman gave false direction, with
out moments hesitation or prevarication.
II will call on you; in the meantime, keep
hope alive within her poor heart. Good
night-good night! Here, take this, good
woman, for thyselfw
She grasped the crown piece greedily, but
it did not soften her heart; for when her
victim, hearing the doctors footstep fade in
the distance, crept close and said: "Whau
| did he say madam-what did he say?' she
snarled, HE says you'll be blind for life;
and SO you'll have to sing for your bread,
if you want to live!'
The poor girl dropped on the church
| steps again, utterly depressed and despair
ing.
The wretched woman, fearing the end of
| the fortune which resulted from Louises
blindness, had actually done her best TO
antagonize the benevolent intentions of the
doctor.
Vespers were over, and the congregation
began to pour down the steps of the church.
Louise's face was set toward the open
door, and what light wretched lamp gave
was full upon it as the Countess Liniere
| came toward the blind girl.
And first she looked as one who sees
without knowing it. but the growth Of in
terest was sudden, and that soon passed
into condition of complete amazement.
The blind girl knew nothing of what was
came eager, as she heard the inquiry, "My
sweet girl, what is your name9"
Louise, madame"
"Louise!" she heard echoed, in trem-
bling whisper-'Louise!"
Then the voice said aWhose child are