Litchfield enquirer., 1876-11-09

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 1T am afraid not, unless your visit is a long one. He will be absent for some months
 She ,.,l not speak with any warmth. It was as if she did not care to speak of him at all. "-as if the mention of him even embarrassed her little.
 Mere Giraud felt a secret misgiving. i2~
 'I shall not stay long, she said; 'but I could not remain away. wished so eagerly to see you, and know that you were happy. You are happy, my Laurel"
 Laure turned toward her and gave her long look-a look which seemed uncon- sciously to ask her question. .- .
 "Happy!'' she answered slowly and de- liberately, ''I suppose so.-Yes." l Mere G1raud caressed her hand again 1 and again. ''Yes, she said, Git must be so. The good are always happy; and you, my Laure, have always been dutiful and virtuous, and consequently you are re- l warded. You have never caused me grief, and now, thank the good God! you most adoringly, and at last touched the soft thick gray velvet of her drapery with reverence. ''Do you wear such things as this every day?" she asked.
 ''Yes," Laure answered, ''every day" I ''Ah!" sighed the happy mother." How Monsieur Legrand must adore you!''
 At length she found time to ask few questions concerning Valentin.
 "I know that he is we'll and as prosper ous as one could expect him to be; but I hope"-bridling little with great serious ness II hope he conducts himself in such manner as to cause you no embar- rassmept, though naturally you do not see him often." ...
 "No." was the answer, they did not see him often. -..sr
 ''Well, wel," began Mere Graud, be- coming lenient in her great happiness, ''he is not bad lad -Valentin. He means
 But here she stopped, d,-Laure checked her with swift, impassioned move- ment.
 He is what we canuot understand" she said in hushed strained voice. "He is saint. He has no thought for him. self. His whole life is sacrifice. It is not you should adore it is Valentin."
 "Valentin" echoed Mere Giraud.
 It quite bewildered her, the mere thought of adoring Valentin.
 "My child, she said when she recovered herself, Git is your good heart which says this"
 The same night Valentine came. Lau- re went out into the antechamber to meet him, and each stood and looked at the other with pale face and anguished eyes. Valent1n's eyes were hollow and sunken as if with some great sorrow, and his large awkward frame seemed wasted. But there was no reproach mingled with the indescribable sadness of his gaze
 ''Your note came to me, '. he said. "Our mother"
 ''She is in there," said Laure in a low, hurried, shaken voice, and she pointed to the salon. "She has come to embrace me,-to make sure that am happy. An, my God!' and she covered her deathly face with her hands.
 Valentin did not approach her. He could only stand still and look on. One thought filled his mind.
 "We have no time to weep, Laure," he said gently. i've must go on as we have begun. Give me your hand" aoi4aafogo 1 This was all, aud then the two went in together, Laure's haud upon her brother's arm. -". % It was marvellous life Mere Giraud liv- ed during the next few days. Certainly she could not complain that she was not treated with difference and affection. She wore the silk dress every day; she sat at the wonderful table, and hveried ser want stood behind her chair; she drove here and there in luxurious carriage she herself, in fact, lived the life of an aristo- crat and a great lady,. Better. than all the rest, she found her Laure as gracious and dutiful as her fond heart could have wished. She spent every hour with her; she showed her all her grandeurs of jew elry and toilette; she was not ashamed of her mother, untutored and simple as she might be,
 "Only she is very pale and quiet," she remarked to Valentin once; "even paler and more quiet than I should have ex- pected. But then we know that the rich and aristocratie are always somewhat re- served. It IS only the peasantry and pro- vincials who are talkative and forid. It is natural that Laure should have gained the manner of the great world"
 But her happiness, poor soul, and yet tine blow God sent was kindly one.
 One morning as they went out to their carriage, Laure stopped to speak to wo- man who crouched upon the edge of the pavement with child in her arms. She bent down and touched the little one with her hand, and Mere Giraud, looking on, thought of pictures she had seen of the Blessed Virgin, and of lovely saints healing the sick.
 "What is the matter?" asked Laure. | The woman looked down at the child and shivered.
 "I do not know," she answered hoarse- ly. "Only we are i'll, and God has forsa- ken us. We have not tasted food for two days" .,-
 Laure took something from her purse and laid it silently in the child's small, fevered hand. The woman burst into tears.
 Madame" she said, sit is twenty franc piece"
 ''Yes," said Laure gently. ''When it is spent come to me again, and she went to her carriage. .. .-..
 'My child" said Mere Giraud, cit is you who are saint. The good God dld wisely in showering blessings upon you" A few days longer she was happy, and then she awakened from her sleep one night and found Laure standing at her bedside looking down at her and shud- dering. She started up with an exclama- tion of terror.
 "Afon Dieu! she sad. "What is it?"
 She was answered in a voice she had never heard before, ,-Laure's but hoarse and shaken. Laure had fallen upon her knees, and grasped the bedclothes, hid ing her face in the folds.
 ''I am i'll, 'she answered in this strange, changed tone. 'I am-I am cold and burning-I am-dying." -fg -s.a 4..
 In an instant Mere Giraud stood upon the floor holding her already insensible form in her arms. She was obliged to lay her upon the floor while she rang the bell to alarm the servants. She sent for Valentin and doctor. The doctor, ar- irving, regarded the beautiful face with manifest surprise and alarm. It was no longer pale, but darkly flushed, and the stamp of terrible pain was upon it. et
 '..She has been exposed to infection, he said. ''This is surely the case. It is @ malignant fever" -s..-. - ........., ... 2,
 Then Mere Giraud thought of the poor mother and child. ~t ,
 70 my God'' she prayed, ''do not let