Litchfield enquirer., 1876-11-09
.aFs =zEc3 Q or
WHOLE NO. 2e32.

come before bis, return. who could con. front him with the truth? So beautiful, so happy, so adored?" ls
 And Laure lay upon the bed, some times wildly delirious, sometimes dread- fuI statue of stone, unhearing, unseeing, unmoving, death without deaths rest life in deaths bonds of iron.
 But while Mere Giraud wept, Valentin had no tears, He was faithful. untiring, but silent even at the worst. "One would think he had no heart" said Mere Giraud; "but men are often SO, ready to work, but cold and dumb. Ahl it is only mother who bears the deepest grief" =
 She fought passionately enough for a hope at first, but it was forced from her grasp, in the end. Death had entered the house and spoke to her in the chang ed voice which had summoned her from her sleep. .aa5 ..--..... ...sr..,-. .....
 Madame" |" said the doctor one. evening as they stood over the bed while the sun went down, ''L have done all that is pose ible. She will not see the sun set again. She may not see 1t rise. ,"
 Mere Giraud fell upon her knees beside the bed, crossing herself and weeping.
 ''She will die" she said, ga blessed martyr, She will die the death of Q saint" ...ss.r That very night-only few hours later there came to them friend, ,-one they had not for one moment even hoped to see.-a gentle, grave old man, iu thin, well-worn black robe,-the Cure of St. Croix. - -. Him Valentin met also, and when the two saw each other, there were barriers that fell away in their first interchange of looks.
 ''My son,'' said the old man, holding out his hands, "tell me the truth"
 Then Yalentin fell into 2 chair and hid g ;iShe is dying; he said,i &ahd T cannot ask that she should hvetH' '-; Fa .'''-r
 ''What was my life" he cried passion ately, speaking again "What was my | life to me that I should not have given it to save her;-to save her to her beauty aud honor, and her mothers love! I would have given it cheerfully,--a thous- and times,-a thousand times again and | again. But it was not to be; and, in spite of my prayers, lost her. Oh, my God" with sob of agony, eff tonight she were in St. Croix and I could hear the neigh bors call her again as they used, Mere Giraud's little daughter!
 The eyes of the Cure had tears in them also.
 Yesterday returned to St. Croix and found your mother absent, he said. "I have had terrible fears for months, and when l found her house closed, they caused me to set out upon my journey at once"
 He did not ask any questions. He re- membered too we'll the man of whom Val entin had written; the son who was ''past his youth, and had evidently seen the world" the aristocrat, who had exclaimed | ''Mo1o Dieu!" at the sight of Laure's won. | dros beauty.
 ''When the worst came to the worst" | said Valentin, "I vowed myself to the la- | bor of sparing our mother. have work ed early and late to sustain myself in the part I played. It wds not from Laure the money came. My Godl Do you think would have permitted my mothers hand to have touched gift of hers? She wrote the letters, but the money Ihad earned honestly. Heaven will justify me fcFmy falsehood since have suffered so much.
 ,""Yes," responded the Cure, looking at his bent form with gentle, pitying eyes;
 "Heaven will justify you, my son. 1 They watched by Laure until the morn ing, but she did not see them; she saw nothing; tonight it was the statue of mar ble which lay before them. But in the early morning, when the sky was dappled with pink and gold, and the air was fresh and cool, and silence, even moro com plete than that of the night, seemed to reign, there came a change. The eyes they had seen closed for so many hours were opened, and the soft voice broke in | upon the perfect stiffness of the room: "The lilies in the garden are in bloom to-day. The were never so tall, and white, and fair before. will gather them-for the alter--to give to the Virgin-at my confession. Med culp1-MeG-" and all was oyer, and Mere Giraud fell upon her knees again, crying, as she cried be- | fore, amid passion of Sobs and tears:
 "She has died' my child, the death of a blessed martyr"
 It was rather strange, the villagers said, that Madame Legrand should have been buried in the little graveyard at St Croix instead of in some fine tomb at Pere LG Ct0ise; butt was terribly sadl-her husband was away, they knew not where, and it was Valentin's s wish, and Mere Cir aud's heart yearned so over her beloved one. So she was laid there, and @ mar ble cross was placed at her head-a tall, beautiful crosby Monsieur Legrand, of course. Only it was singular that he l never came, though perhaps that is the way of the great-not to mourn long or deeply even for those who have been most lovely, and whom they have most tender ly loved.