The Redwood gazette. [volume] (Redwood Falls, Minn.) 1873-1940, 1880-04-15

In hard work at Brussels the winter
went by coldly, the spring more coidly
still; then came fiery summer, and /
thought gladly of rushing back to my
nest in the Ardennes.
"They were to be married ct the
New Year" said. "She is quite q
matron now. All. wen! I hope Antoine,
the blacksmith, viii make her q good
husband-good and true, for he has the
fairest flower of the Ardenues."
I asked no questions Of my house.
keeper on the night Of my arrival in nv
summer home, and in the morning the
good dame was busy, 90 strolled down
to the village and called at the good
Yes. he !. At home, - said the priests
sister; "but he is engaged"
Then l will wait awhile" I an
swered. and I stepped into the little
pArlor.
When the door was closed and 1 was
left alone the hum of voices reached
me. and looking into the garden saw
the cure seated on rustic bench near
the window. A muff1ed figure stood by
him, but she leaned against the wall,
and could not see her face.
"No, my father; let him who caused
my pain partake of it. It seems that I
must die. Well, let him see me die.
Let him know what he has DONE"
The book had taken up fell from my
hand. This was kulslie's voice, changed
and broken, but, no less sweet and mu-
steal.
my child" said the priest, "you
are wrong; these feelings are sinful;
they SAVIOR of revenge"
"No, father; not revenge; Heaven has
avenged me. The girl for whom he left
me is dead-cut down in the midst of
her triumph and joy-dead, after only
one days illness. How, then, can I
have thoughts of vengeance in my
hearth And although /, too, die, the
good God has been merciful to me. I
die slowly, inch by inch, and not in
joy, as she did. No; joy and parted
long ago."
"But, my daughter, surely for one
so near the end, thy thoughts are too
much engrossed by this world. Come
to me in confessional and hear of Heav-
emily things, and put the thoughts Of this
marriage behind thee as q temptation
of the enemy"
"Oh, father, you mistake metz cried
Eulalie, and there was a slight ring of
Indignation in her voice. 81 do no
wicked thing in marrying Antoine. l
love him. He is come back to me in
sorrow and remorse, and no one will
believe that have forgiven him if do
not become his wife. If he is my
husband he can nurse and tend me; he
can come to my bedside and receive
my last prayer, my last word; but if 1
refuse him I must die away from his
presence and my mother will hate
him."
"Say no more, poor child; I will mar
~ thee, if thou wilt
"Thanks, father. All the fOrmalities
the law demands are done; we will
come to church tomorrow
She went down the garden with fee
BILE step, and as she turned to shut the
wicket gate saw her face.
Was this the Flower of St. Etienne?
Poor flower! how changed and sad, how
pale and broken, since saw her. but a
year ago, radiant in the joy of her first
love.
"What has happened?" I asked the
cure. as he shook me by the hand.
Eulalie is sadly altered. She has
dying look upon her face that grieves
me-"
truth, my friend. She goes with the
first breath of autumn; she is in deep
Decline"
"And how is this, that she is not
married to the blacksmith? I over
heard you talk; you marry her to-mor-
row."
"Yes; and I am sorry for it. The
man looks upon this marriage as an ex-
piation of his sin, and would not grant
him this poor salve to his conscience
could help it,
but they were to have been married
at the New Year. l cried. 81 cannot
understand this delay"
''At the New Tear Antoine was talk
ing of marriage to another maiden.
Sit down and I will tell you the tale.
''All went well with Antoine and Eu-
lalie till the feast of St Barbe, last No
vember. At the little village of St.
Barbe, across the hill, there was dance
on their fete day. Antoine went to 1t.
Eulalie did not go. The weather was
rough, and he persuaded her to remain
at home. Of late, l think, he had
wearied little of her love and her
calm temper, which never tried him
with caprice and coquetry.
"There was procession and much
extra service at the Church of St. Barbe
on the fete day, and went there to
assist the cure. So it happened that l
passed down among the dancers in the
ing vigorously with handsome girl
named Therese Dufresne.
II have ever thought him tickle
man." I said, interrupting the cures
story with useless sigh.
"Fickle and heartless. The dance
was but the beginning of his coquetry
with Therese. A few Sundays more he
still appeared by Eulalie's side in COM
ing home from mass; a few evenings
more he waited for her as she came
from vespers; then he went over shame
fully to his idol, and all the village
knew she was deserted. She had no
pride to bear her up. She sank from
that day. making no effort to hide her
grief.
"But. eng1ossed in his new passion,
Antoine saw nothing. He was at St.
Barbe every day. He spent all his
Sundays and holidays there. From her
window Eulalie often watched him as
he walked whistling and careless over
the hill, swinging in his hand the flow
ers he was taking to Therese.
"Therese was handsome girl. A
thorough Ardennaise, with dark hair
and eyes and rudy brown complexion,
tall and strong, with an arm almost as
well able to WELD a hammer as An
tonnes own. Moreover, she was willful
in her temper and capricious, and this
suited a man like him.
GAS he went to St. Barbe he never
knew whether his greeting would be
kind or cruel. If she had parted with
him with kiss on one day she might
meet him with frown and hard
word on the next. And so, in spite of
their many quarrels, she kept the tickle