Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1878-04-25
promised to take her safely to one Of the

tr ayues. MarQuise de Verneuil. We behold
her kneeiing at the feet Of Nicolas d'Aubri.
who had sought her presence In his anxiety
for tdinys OF Destree. The Msrquise piti-
lessly informed him that the girl lad died
ot small pox. aud gave him q ring that she
affirmed had been entrusted to her by Dis
Tree. Then seeing him utterly overcome
by the blow. the Msrquise strove to CON.
fort him by the assurance that time had
balm for all sorrows, that brighter days
were In store for him-wealth and power
that that they should both be his would he
but promise to love the giver. Nicolas,
stunned by sorrow and Amusement, thought
but Of escape from her presence. OF soil
tuJe. where he might think undisturbed.
At last, losing oil seif-restraint. the lady
finnx herself at his feet aud poured out her
mad and reckless passion In burning aud
incoherent words. But they fell on dulled
ears. Forget this hour, Madame, he said
gravely. as I will do
DAubri's hopes werc dead; the church
was open to him. and he determined to
take shelter In her arms from the stiags
ami arrows OF outrageous fortune. Two
years elspsed. and the young ecclesiastic
found himself on his way to the New
World. one Of band Of gallant gentlemen
aud self-sacriiicing priests. The vessel
reached Port Royal 10 safety, and. after .
brief stay there. set sail for the Penobscot.
Driven by stress OF weather. they found
themselves. after perilous voy age. oppo-
site the wild heights Of Mount Desert.
They anchored in broad and sunny bay,
and Nicolas d'Aubd begged to be set on
shore for ramble Of few hours. that he
might more closely examine the products
OF the soil In this new and strange country.
He lost his way, and the boatmen, after
l. al.
were compelled to leave him. At the ex-
piration Of some ten days. however. he was
fortunate enough to be taken of by the
same crew that had landed him. This Is
the brief and bald account that has come
down to us. Am not right. Mr.. Patter-
son?' asked the narrator.
The historian smiled. Go on; you are
right, unqucstionably, as to such an incl
dent having given the name TO French.
mans Bay. But"
"Haie'la," cried Ashley, II asked only
for confirmation. not for objections, aud
shall now proceed to tell YOU what befel
the young French eccleslastic. the student
from the Quarter Latin. the lover OF D.si.
rec. The girls memory had lowered near
him all thai day. he heard her voise In the
breeze that sighed In the tall pine trees.
A tuft Of pale purple violets growing among
on her breast.
at Is no sin he murmured. half aloud.
TO dwell on these thoughts. for the maiden
stands to-day among Gods holy angels -
Thus absorbed In contemplation, the
young priest wandered deeper and deeper
into the forest. Every leaf ard tree were
new TO him. and awakened his Interest and
curiosity. Suddenly he remembered that
he had paid no heed to any landmarks by
which he could find his wav back 10 the
shore. He was not dismayed, as he knew
that the ship was 10 lie In the bay for sew
eral days; that parties would be landed To
look for an eligible spot In which to plant
their colony. or course he should hear
their voices. aud even II he we're compelled
10 pass the night in the forest IL would not
be much OF a hardship-the month was
June. fair. fresh and leafy, and he saw no
Indication of Wild beasts. D'Aubri there
fore ate his biscuit and quenched his thirst
from a clear brook. and finally threw him
self on the turf TO rest before making
any effort 10 seek the beach where he had
landed. He slept and dreamed. Nonew
or startling visions haunted his slumbers.
only Desree's tender, compa passlonate face
bent over him. But why. he said. 'dear
life, why this garb. these sombre folds In
stead Of white and shining ralment2 Why
these tears and sobss Angels do not weep
In heaven! and the young priest opened
his eyes. At his side on the fiowery turf
knelt Desiree, her heavy veU thrown back
from her pure and noble face; her slender
hands held her rosary. The lovers who
had parted In palace in luxurious France
me, again the primeval forests OF the New
World. AS D'Aubri started up the nun
slowly rose and turned away. Speak"
cried the priest, hoarsely, Are you 4
spirit. or are you the girl supposed to be
deadr A wan sf1ile fiickered over the
nuns pale face. What wonder would II
have been Father, had died, when |
learned that stood friendless and alone,
deserted, to do battle with 4 cruel worldT
The priest started forward, and then stop.
ped as abruptly as II drawn back by invis-
ible chains. After a moments silence. he
said more calmly. My child. God will not
hold Ii = deadly sin II We spend brief fhour
IN converse. The mystery Of the past
must be made clear to US both. After to-
day our duties are plain. and are a. sepa.
rate As our paths must be in future. Sit
there where can see you, and tell me all
that has befallen you.
In slow and earnest words these two
poor souls told the simple tale Of their
wrongs. Desiree then described her little
band OF native converts, whose tents she
said was not far away. She told of the
privatiops OF her daily life with no bitter
ness, but with the enthusiasm of her ma.
ture. These are my Children she said.
this is my home. and this my work, God
sen. me here. He has blessed my labors.
May he bless yours equally, and nov fare.
wel' She knelt at the feet of the priest.
be placed his hand revererently on her
bowed head as he implored Gods blessings
4 l. IL a a. a
her slender figure in alternate sunshine
and shade. as she passed between the
trees. At last he was alone-alons with
God, and his unnatural anguish. The lcng
hours passed away, night came and WAS
followed by dawn. before he had r-esiaed
hi ordinary comp I-ule. The rigid lines,
and gray hue Of his complexion robbed
him OF every look Of youth. and II was the
face of an old man that greeted the Indian
sent by Desiree with food and assurance OF
protection.
Father D'Aubri- Twas conducted to the
shore. where in the shelter of cave. a
bear-skin was spread, and there the young
priest was cared for until the white sail
Sas again seen. The vessel was ynaled
aud the ecelesiastic taken on board or
Desire We known little more, save that she
lived and died among her Indian children.
French settlers Of that part Of the Ameri.
can continent. In the old cemetery she
lies buried. the Roman Catholic grave
yard being now included with the later
Puritsns.
''And Sow," said Mr.. Ashley. las my
legend Is finished, here We are once more
ut Bar Harbor"
''How much Of your tale Is true" whis-
pered Miss Hastings.
How much and how little" answered
her lover drsamily. "Mr. Patterson must
tell you. Ii Ia impossible for me 20 say
To me ii u true-all real-as real As many
another legend Of this romantic sea-girt
coast. As real. sweetheart. as the happi-
ness feel at your side. as true love. as
your own self.-Mary Neal Sherwood In
the Philadelphia Times
1t Is an unhappy division that has been
made between faith and works. Though
In thought may divide them. just rs IN
the candle think Of hoih the liz M and the.