The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 1880-04-15

he trolled rollicking ditty with amor
ous lips and the glow of the fire warm |
on his ruddy check. But suddenly he
turned his light hazel eyes on her, the |
sheen of the flames in them, and a
touch of shame came over him.
MA 'amselIe Eulalie,' he said, can
do anything for youP'|
"' am come gasped the girl, mot
in anger, Antoine, but only to hear the
truth from your own lips. Is it true
that you marry Therese Dufresne next
weekp
Her face turned ashy pale as she
spoke, and she grasped the door-sillwith
feeble hands to support herself.
"Antoine was embarrassed and silent.
"sYou see, Mile. Eulalie.' he said,
Struggling bis shoulders, and holding
out his hands in a deprecating way,
you were scarcely the girl to suit
man like me. You are so frail and deli
cate-almost like lady"
".Antoine, 1 was well and happy till
knew you.'
"And, wringing her hands together,
the dying girl looked in his face for
pity. But there was none. There was
only a rough kind of shame in the man,
and n feeling of irritation that she
should dare to come there and reproach
him with her pale face.
". You had better GO home, madamoi-
selle; the villagers will wag their
tongues at you If they see you speaking
to me now.' -..-
".The truth! the truth! Tell me the
truth, Antoine; that is all ask
".Well, then, since you will have it
yes; marry Mile. Therese.'
land as he spoke his brides name
there shone in his pale eyes that amor
Gus light and gleam of triumphant pas
sion that in days gone by had fallen
upon her face in warm rays, when he
stopped to kiss her, or when beneath
the summer shade of trees they had
walked hand in hand talking of their
love.
"Down upon the anvil came the stall
wart blow OF his great hammer, and.
adding discourtesy to his cruel words.
he turned his back on her, whistling at
his work. 1t needed but this to break
her heart. She left the door faint and
sick with woe, uttering no word of
anger, breathing no rash prayer to
Heaven to avenge her cause.
"And yet the vengeance came. The
month of May broke in upon us fiercely
hot. Snow melted hurriedly on the
hills, flooding valley and meadow as
with sea, and as this dried in the sun,
leaving many sluggish pool. fever fell
upon the villages that lay nestled in the
deep glens.
tween great cliffs. Well, the fever fell
there first and in three days ten men
and women, hale and hearty, dropped
before it as the corn falls before the
sickle.
"In the evening Therese Dufresne
walked with her lover, counting the
hours to their wedding. In the morn.
ing she lay on her bed, stricken, raving
| dying. Her father sent for Antoine,
but she did not know him. With
her, and died raving of some old lover
gone for q soldier and lying blind in the
hospital at Ghent.
land now the blacksmith was {
marked man. People cried, "A judg
mentr and his forge grew silent and
deserted. Meanwhile Eulalie perishet
day by day, like flower withering il
the wind. And whether it was re
morse or time-serving fear, or return
of love, / know not, but in few shor
weeks after Therese's death Antoin,
wooed her again to be his wife and sh,
consented"
Thus the cures tale ended, and
looking sorrowfully in his face, sa
silent, then walked homeward musins
on many things.
They were married; but went not t,
the wedding, and for many days
shouldered my basket early and wan
dered to the deepest and farthest glens
sometimes throwing my line idly in tn
stream, but oftener sitting on the banl
watching the riplets flow and the rushe
So month went hy; and every even
ing when Lreturned and laid down m,
empty basket, with smile that hid
sigh, I heard that she was worse.
"She is dying fast, now," said m
housekeeper. Poor thing! she is wor
to a very shadow. 1 saw her yesterda
in the cemetery, leaning on her hus
bands arm, choosing her grave. Their
were tears on his cheek. All! he ha
his share now of grief, as it is fittin
he should have. And I hear they al
? very poor. People go miles away
/ another forge rather than go to him"
..Poorr' I said. And there rose u
in my throat so strange sob that for
, moment no other word would com,
81 Then, hiding my face in shadow,
bade her take hastily all needful thinf
3 to her. -..tl. ,l
.sNo, stay-not to her. Take the
/ to her mother, and let her take them
her daughter" -o -
Q Then, sitting lonely by my wood fir
8 I thought bitterly of the empty shat
ows of this world, and how strange
9 was that should send bread in chart
Y to one whom, in foolish dreams, 1 b,
g clothed in satin and jewels and honors
l. as q Queen.
$ A few days further on, when 1 hea
9 she would leave her bed no more, the
; came upon me a silly longing to s.
Q her face. After many thoughts Al
o fghtings with my wish spoke to b
n mother of this.
n "I had ever been her friend" sal
"Might I see her and say farewellP'
The mother looked at me with frigi
ened eyes. "She could not tell" 81
Is answered. Antoine had grown
r. fierce, she dared not ask him. Son
.s how, since he knew he must lose
n wife and she slipped from his gra
y into Deaths, he loved her with
stronger, fiercer love than ever in
A passionate days he had given
ir Therese, and he begrudged every VIC
4. and look given to anotlsr. He "
"a Jealous even of her."
n And the woman went her way, wee
III ing as she went.
ia Now l was bitter, indeed. So t
coarse man, who had killed my pre-
pr flower. was her master in death as
,s life, and he denied me even the pr
n consolation of one last word Wha
ht strange triumph was bis overthe lovi
I'd heart he had broken!
of The next day, with my rod rs a p
lie tense, I climbed a great hilltop a
oy sat among the solitudes OF the mount
es till faith in Gods goodness, growi
ct from the peace and stiffness and bea'
of the earth, wrung that drop of bitt
at ness from out my heart