Louisiana capitolian. (Baton Rouge, La.) 1879-1881, 1879-02-08

4
es in the gay city Of Paris, and when q
child ften, in my horror of her and
the life she led, fled from my home.
''rhe rest you know-llow your
uncle found me dying, starving, miles
from Paris, and for some undetinable |
likeness | bore to one he had lovedand
lost took me to his home. Clare, do
you wish me to accept Wizards
love?'
~ cannot tell Clare answered,
hesitatingly.
"You mean you cannot tell whether
you would sooner he should stoop to
marry me or leave the home Of his
youth, but you rather think You
would let him gog"
Clare's tender mouth was quiyering,
Refine only laughed bitterly.
"Trust me CLARE she said Che
will neither do one nor the other, !
give you my promise Leave me now,
Glare; ! wish to be alone.'
Next morning RENE was absent
from the breakfast table, and Clare
ran up to her room.
In u few moments she came down
again, a slip Of paper In her hand.
"She is not there" she said, " and
this was on the table"
twas only u single line:
Goodbye. Igo that Willard may
stay. j can do no more, nor no less.
RENE.
She had gone and left no clue be-
hind I,cr.
A far, calm evening in June, the
sun sinking to rest amid pillows Of
purple and gold; itslast beams she'd
ding little rays Of brilliant light in
one Of the windows Of Woodland Cot
tage.
With one arm leaning on the win
dow, her hand supporting her head
the other carressing the soft, dark
hair Of the girl beside her, Mildred
Graham sat looking out over the quiet
summer scene that lay before her.
A tall, slender woman, with soft
dark eyes and hair, beautiful still
despite her thirty eight years, despite
the silver threads among her hair
the traces of some unforgotten sorrow
on her delicate face, and the girl sit
ting besides her was RENE Deverc.
"Rcine,' Mrs. Graham said, gently
81 wonder how it was, in all my lit
no stranger ever appealed tony hear
as YOU have done. From the inomcn
my eyes first rested on your sorrowfl'
! young face have loycd@you as m,
/, own baby girl, had she been left t
me. Oh! my baby; my baby! wi
that one great sorrow Of my life neve
be lightcned on this, earth?"
"Your little baby died" Rein
!, said, softly.
, "Dicd! No! Oh! had my da1lin
only died ! would have been col'tel
to bow to Gods will. No, my littl
= child was stolen from me. DO 70
know, Refine, 1T is relief to tell yo
: Of my pain; and, child, if you woul
only tell me Of your sorrow, my 10,
;, and sympathy would surely comic
Il your
9 Then poor sorrowfnl Refine, out
whose face all the bright bloom lla
i" fed, told her own simple story.
g When Refine had mentioned Ii
% lovers name, Mildred's face had grow
pale.
7. "Leigh2 | once knew Guy Lcigl
$, / wonder'--
he "rhat was his uncle,' Refine said.
+ "Do you look like your motl'
e, Reine9" Mrs. Graham asked, after
i. short silence.
Id "No; not in the least. This is i
T. likeness"
vs. Mrs. Graham lifted the miniatu
and then a low cry left her lips.
n. "Caroline Severnw
", s'YMt--you knew my mOtherW
- "Child, this is the woman ] ha
W searched the world for---thc won
;rl who--Oh, RENE, Refine! Does "
- heart not answer mine7H
- RENE rose to her feet and cried:
- "0h,pother! motherN and the II
e. moment shc was folded close in y
4 ~ 81.