The Morning herald., 1876-06-12


cent statue in the middle"
"That must be the Pont Neuf," said
Louise, as she remembered the picture
which Henriette had called up to her
| mind. "Papa used to speak of it,"
Gard on this side can see two great
towers, 'continued the beautiful girl who
was thus supplying the place Of her sis
teTs sight. ut must be Notre Dame"
"Notre Dame," repeated Louise, sadly,
| as she arose from her seat. "How / wish
/ could see it. 1t was on that SPOT that l,
helpless infant, was left to perish" and
as the blind girl thus recalled the thoughts
| of the past, the teak 4unbidden, came to
her eyes, and the sightless orbs were turn
ed towards the spot she would see, as if
they would burst their filmy veil, and
forced by her grief, gazed upon the spot
/ where she had been left to die of cold or
starvation. at was there yonr dear father
found me. But for him l should have
died--perhaps-perhaps that would have
been BETTER" she added, in u tone OF an
guish that was almost a wall, so much
misery was there embodied in it:
"My darling sister!' exclaimed Henri
cite, "why do You say that"
"Becanse" replied Louise, in the same
sad tone, T should not have lived to be-
come blind and unhappy"
"Louise, do not speak thus y said Hen
riettc, as she clasped her sister in her
arms. Our dear parents loved us both
alike-yon were their consolation and
happiness and it was their first grief when
Heaven deprived you Of your sight"
"Misfortnne pnrsnes me. sister, said
Louise, refusing to be comlorted, 'for
scarcely had this aliction belallen me
when We were left orphans, without help
or friends"
"No-no, dear Louise p interrupted
Henriette, "not without friends, hope.
have TUNED all we possessed into money
! and VIC are in this great Paris, where there
| are sAiiiu doctors who will soon restore
my poor Louise's eyes to their old time
| brightness" and t'.eIa wac in Ilenriettc's
voice something which ever had TIE power
! 10 cheer her afflicted sister.
".lcavcn grant that your hopes may be
realized" said Louise, more hopefully.
Then, thinking of their present situation
again, she asked
".But where can Monsieur Martin be :?
Why does he not come for us? y
For moment Henriette had forgotten
the forsaken condition in which they were.
Alone in Paris, without friends, or even
acquaintances, and unless the relative
whom they were expecting should come
to meet them, what could they do?
Ilenriette hardly dared TO think of such
an alternative, and more TO satisfy her sis
ter than from any expectation Of finding
him, she proposed to 60 and look for
Monsieur Martin.
As Ilenrette went to look for Monsieur
Martin, young woman of about twenty
years of age entered the open space in
front of the cabaret, and stood gazing sad
Iy at the swift running river.
Her face was that Of q woman who had
once been beautiful; but who was now pur-
sued by remorse and sorrow. Her gar
ments were scrupulously clean and neat
but with no attempt at display, and she
wandered about like one having no aim
or purpose save to escape from her own
thoughts
She stood silent and motionless as if she
were some quaint figure of wood or stone
rather than y woman in whose breast love
and hate conld wage eternal conflict so
absorbed was she in her bitter thoughts,
that her face expressed her feelings as well
as words could have done.
jIenriette returned to her sister with
the information that their relative could
not be seen, and just at that moment
burst of laughter and music came from the
halfopen door of the cabaret, which pre-
vented the wanderer from hearing Hen
riette's approach or her voice.
Among the voices which could be heard
from the drinking saloon, Jacques Troch-
ards coarse, brutal tones could be dis
|tinguished; and as she heard it, the poor
woman started as though st,ng by viper
Yes, it is his voice." she said, as she
turned so as to lace the door of the cabo-
bet. "his voice singing and laughing. Aye!
drink and carouse! forget her whose heart
you have broken. Enjoy yourself, while
the victim of yonr brutality seeks the only
refuge left her--deah! The river is near,
one plunge and it will all be over. May
my dying shrek of despair ring in your
ears.
The Continuation ofthts Story wiH be
f0"nd ih ncrt Sundays TnAtet.
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"ncin Int, I,