The Wellington enterprise. [volume] (Wellington, Ohio) 1867-188?, 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. i
"They were to be married at the |
New Year." said. "She is quite o
matron now. All. well! hope Antoine,
the blacksmith, will make her a good |
and true. for he has the |
fairest flower of the Ardennes."
asked no questions of my houses
summer home, and in the morning the
to the village and called at the good
cures.
"Yes, he is at home," said the priests
sister; "but he is engaged"
"Then / will wait awhile" an
swered, and I stepped into the little
parlor.
When the door was closed and was
left alone the hum of voices reached
me, and looking into the garden 1 saw
the cure seated on a rustic bench near
the window. A muffied figure stood by
him, but she leaned against the wall,
and could not see her face.
"No, my father; let him who caused
my pais partake of it. 1t seems that 1
must die. Well, let him see me die.
Let him know what he has DONE"
The book 1 had taken up fell from my
hand. This was kulalie's voice, changed
and broken, but no less sweet and mu-
"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 1
have thoughts of vengeance in my
hearth And although /, too, die, the
good God has been merciful to me.
die slowly, inch by inch, and not in
joy, as she did. No; joy and Iparted
long ago."
ssBut, 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 me!' cried
Eulalie, and there was slight ring of
indignation in her voice. al do no
wicked thing in marrying Antoine. /
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. Ii 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 I
refuse him must die away from his
presence and my mother viii hate
him."
.sSay no more. poor child; viii mar
ry thee, il thou wilt"
Thanks, father. Allthe formalities
the law demands are done; we will
come to church tomorrow"
She went down the garden with q 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. ss-
What has happenedP" asked the
cure, as he shook me by the hand.
:. Eulalie is sadly altered. She has q
dying look upon her face that grieves
"Her face tells but the sorrowful
truth, my friend. She goes with the
first breath of autumn; she is in deeT
decline"
"And how is this, that she is no,
married to the blacksmith over
heard you talk; you marry her to-mor'
rowf"
4 "Yes; and I am sorry for it. The
man looks upon this marriage as an ex
piation of his sin, and l would not grant
him this poor salve to his conscience
could help it.
"But they were to hare been married
, at the New Year." cfisd. "I canno,
. understand this delay
sAt the New Tear Antoine was talk
ing of marriage to another maiden
Sit down and will tell you the tale.
..An 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 a dane
on their fete day. Antoine went to it
q Eulalie did not 60. The weather wa
rough, and he persuaded her to remail
at home. OF late, think, he ha
I wearied little of her love and he
! calm temper, which never tried hir
h with caprice and coquetry.
b There was a procession and muc
. extra service ut the Church of st. Barb
4 ON the fete day, and / went there {
I assist the cure. So it happened that
{ passed down among the dancers in th
9 afternoon and observed Antoine dant
!. ing vigorously with a handsome gi
i named Therese Dufresne."
q al have ever thought him fiekl
n man." I said, in.errupting the cure
d story with q useless sigh.
" "Fickle and heartless. The dane
n twas but the beginning of his coquetI
with Therese. A few Sundays more
,e still appeared by Eulalie's side in con
. ing home from mass; a few eveniny
more he waited for her as she can
ls from vespers; then he went over sham
st fully to his idol, and all the villas
knew she was deserted. She had l
"a pride to bear her up. She sank fro
J. that day, making no effort to hide h
@ grief.
"But. engrossed in his new passio
j. Antoine saw nothing. He was at S
of Barbe every day. He spent all b
Sundays and holidays there. From b
/ window Eulalie often watched him
ar he walked whistling and careless ov
!" the hill, swinging in his hand the flo'
III ers he was taking to Therese.
"Therese was handsome girl.
IN thorough Ardennaise, with dark hs
. and eyes and ruddy brown complexio
in tall and strong, with an ann almost
n well able to WELD hammer as A
to toine's own. Moreover, she was will
ed in her temper and capricious, and Il
a suited man like him.
90 "As he went to St. Barbe he ney
Sc knew whether his greeting would
an kind or cruel. II she had parted wi
We him with kiss on one day she mig
n meet him with q frown and a ha
word on the next. And so, in spite
r- their many quarrels, she kept the ficl
man faithful, far more enthralled
xt her coarse beauty and hard caprit
te, than ever he had been by the Perft
rs, love and loveliness of Eulalie.
g Az lonnkh ha told in friumnh III