Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1876-01-26

this. i returned to New York il
few weeks, had my pearl mount
ed precisely as L'Estrange had di
rected, and wore it,--at first will
half superstitious feeling that i
was truly link between us, anC
would one day draw us together
1t was, at all events, powerful il
one way. 1t was indeed, as he haC
said, a sign, a token. 1t KEEP
fresh and green in my memory
what else would have gradually
faded away as one of the many
forgotten incidents of life that
was changeful and full of adven.
ture.
But it was not his face only that
it recalled. / never wore it with.
out seeing as in vision, the dark,
soul-lit eyes that had looked up to
me from the photograph the pure,
calm brow, and the tender, visit
ful mouth of my friends "Mar-
guerite." Not his wife, but his be-
trothed. What other meaning
could | have to the sudden light
! that illuminated his face as he claim
ed, in that last hurried moment, "It
is my Marguerite-my peail~
81 shall write you from San
Francisco" he had said. But days,
weeks, and months heightened in
to years, and l heard nothing. My
pearl scarf-pin was the only token
that those charmed days of travel
had been more than q dream. /
believed that he was dead.
Last summer | was in Paris
Early one morning l went to the
Madeleine, and leaning against one
of the iluted columns, watched the
worshipers as they came and went.
The sun shot yellow rays through
the groined windows in the roof
the chanting of hidden choir
sounded far off and dream-like ;
the sculptured Magdalen of the
high alter looked strangely real in
the weird, uncertain light; and the
whole atmosphere of the place was
bewildering.
AS | stood near one of the great
bronze doors, a lady yelled, and
gathering the folds of her mantle
more closely about her throat.
passed me with light step. The
figure was exquisitely graceful,
and | watched her with a young
mans idle curiosity as she knelt at
her prayers, wondering if her face
was worthy of her form. AS she
arose, q fresh breeze from an open
ing door drew back her veil, and ]
caught a passing glimpse of her
features. All the blood in my
veins rushed madly to my heart.
Surely it was the face of my
friends Marguerite Yet it SEEM
ed a younger; perhaps less Ma
donna-like than in the picture, hal
oed by cloudlike drapery. You
see / had not forgotten the slight
est popularity of the photograph.
/ could have sworn to the very
pattern of the face.
Before I recovered my senses she
had disappeared.
For three days / haunted the
Magdeleine in vain. On the fourth
| caught q glimpse of her again,
stopping to drop coin in the hand
of pallid child. But it was fete-
day, and the crowd swayed in be-
tween us. After that / saw her nc
more.
went on to Switzerland, linger.
for a month among its mountain
passes-made short run into Italy
and came back. / was lettering
along Les Champs Elysees one eve
ming in q fit of homesickness, hal
inclined to take the next steamer
from Havre, and so end this rovinl
life, when / became aware of being
watched-watched by dark figur,
under the shadow Of the opposit,
trees. The red sun light fell ful
and strong where / was standing
but it was twilight all about.
changed my position hurridly an'
fastened on.
But in a moment i heard quicl
footsteps behind me, then a rul
: and a shout. An arm fell acros
, my shoulder, hand clasped mine
: and well remembered voice, cried
at is you'll ! have found you
/, An. mon ami. mon ami! But