The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1881-01-13
CFrom Macmillan's Magazine.1
THE STORY OF YVES.
CHAPTER x.
A WARNING.

Poor Harrlett death was soon Tor.
gotten. Eileen found another dress
maker, and in the excitement Of for
warding her young mistress's prepara-
tions, Bridget forgot her provisions
and her fears. She was really toe
busy to notice him, or she must have
observed the gloom that had settled
on Yves.
Mr.. Smith saw it, but he had early
recognized the existence Of mystic,
morbid temperament in the young
Breton, and he suspected that where
there was so much reticence there was
also much strength Of feeling.
He decided mentally that it was the
fervor of Yves's love that kept him
moody and silent, and he bade Eileen
hurry her preparations, as probably
the marriage might have to be has
tened by day or two.
But the agony of Yves was grow
ing beyond endurance. Night after
night, as soon. as his head was laid on
his pillow, came back the vision of
Liszen, sitting, waiting for him, full
of honest trust. The miserable young
fellow rested with himself to tell the
truth. to give up all and to turn his
back forever on Bristol and ON Eileen.
In vain, the thought Of Eileen's sor-
row, and the impossibility, so it seem
ed to him, of finding words in which
to tell his story clearly, kept him si-
lent; but these fevered, delirious
nights were wearing him out; he look
ed the ghost of his former self.
One night, a week before the mar
riage day, he had been so silent and
cold towards Eileen all supper time,
that at last the girl looked at him
tearfully and asked if he were angry
with her.
"No," he said, and then, not daring
to meet the eyes which he felt SO
fondly fixed on his own, he said good
night, and hurried from the room.
The conflict in his mind had ragged
so fercely all day, that almost as soon
as his head lay on his pillow he fell
into exhausted sleep.
All at once he reused. What had
wakened him? A sound that filled
the room-a sound of church bells,
not loud and changing, but the sweet,
far-away bells Of his native town.
But the bells are slow and solemn In
their tone. Good heavens! it is the
passing bell bidding farewell to de-
parted soul. He tries not to listen to
the anguish they rouse; but the bells
grow stronger, stronger yet, and now
they ring in his heart.
Yves starts up awake-great drops
hang on his forehead Hush! The
bells toll more family now; they are
hushed-dying-dying away.
And now that the bells. are hushed,
what is this that takes their place? A
sweet voice. All, how we'll Yves
knows it! how often he has listened
to its music! And now, hark! it sings
beneath his window.
Yves listens with wildly beating
heart. Yes, he is at home again. The
walls of his room open, and see! here
is the hedge-bordered road leading up
from the bar, and he comes along it,
his hands full of groundsel for Liszen s
bird. He looks up at her window; he
cannot see even q glimpse of her
white cap. But hark! she is singing
the ballad of 1.-The Betrothed," the
song that suits her plaintive voice SC
we'll.
Mother what means the whispering
hear around my bed2
The servants all wear robes of dole,
Mother your eyes are red"
MY son, your sickness makes u. still,
| And ills the house with woe;
Black Is the mode for wearing now,
| For you my tears down 1ow."
The voice ceases. Yves springs out OF
bed. Yes, he is snre he Is at home
and he answers, kneeling by the win
dow, the voice of Liszen. He take:
up the next verse of the ballad
Mother. dear mother rrithee tell
why my heart sinks and fails:
Why the dogs howl so piteously.
| And cen the sunshine pales."
He pauses, and the answer comes IL
the same sweet. low voice.
my son. the heart must faint and fail
| When all it loves lies cold.
| The dogs must howl. the grow pale,
| At sight of fresh-turned mould"
Again Yves sings:-
Mother, oh mother, why these sounds,
And why the passing bell:
The priests go chanting through the street,
What mean they, mother, tell ?'
This time the voice rises into wal
as it answers a.