Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1881-10-20
= VIII % 70 MN. was an ne saln.


@You shall see him, but can not take
you with me. / must speak TO him tirst
alone
Then you will bring him back with
your" she entreated, clinging 10 his arm.
"I-yes. Twill bring him." he answer
ed slowly, and was silent a moment l,sk.
ing into the sweet earnest face upraised 10
his. He was thinking that perhaps he
should never see that look Of love and
trust upon II again.
kiss me, childi" he said suddenly.
Wondering little, she obeyed, pressing
her lips to his cheek again and again.
She shall be happy-it will atone," he
muttered, and the next moment he was
gone.
His heart was heavy and anxious as he
hurried on through the dusky streets.
Should he find Leoni that was The doubt
which oppressed him. He did not believe
he would not believe-that the young
man would carry out his vague threat OF
selfdestruction, but perhaps in his reckless,
despairing mood he had quilted his lodg.
ings, leaving no clue TO his whereabouts.
The money-lender hailed the first hack
that passed him, and drove to the Rue
Louis-le- Grand.
Before going upstairs he looked into the
porter's close little lodge, where brown,
buxom woman in a cap was irving an
omelette over the stove.
"Do you know whether I shall find
Monsieur Leclerc ut homer"
He is gone, monsieur" she answered,
over her shoulder, in high, CHEEKY voice.
Gone out?"
"Gone away-gone for good" she cor
rected, coming forward, frying-pan in hand.
"He came down about an hour after YOU
called this morning, and paid his term, and
gave me the key of his room. | was to
give it to you when you called again, he
said. The things he left belonged to you"
Had he any luggage?"
"a handbag nothing more"
"And he did notsaywhere be was goingr
She shook her head.
He had been writing letter, and he
asked me to stamp and post it for him, as
he had mo change | don't believe he
had sou in his pocket-poor boyl I
wanted to lend him few francs, but he
would not take them. He was in great
trouble, that is certainj he looked quite
upset."
She could tell him nothing more, and he
went out into the street again. The even
ing was chill and gloomy drizzling rain
was falling. He stood looking right and
left, knowing not which way to turn.
Where, in all the great labyrinth of Paris,
was he to look for the poor lad whom he
had driven to despair?
"Where now, master?" the driver de.
manded, examining the end of his whip
with philosophic indifference.
"To the Cafe des Arts, in the Rue du
Helder," he answered, throwing himself
into the carriage again. He did not expect
| to find Leon there, but he might meet with
some one who knew him, and had seen
him since morning. He was disappointed,
however. He found more than one who
knew the artist well, but none who had
seen him that day, or for many days pre-
| viously.
"He has grown unsociablc of late" they
told him; "he cares for no company but
his Beatrice"
His inquiries at other well known artists
haunts in the neighborhood met with the
same result. He then drove to the nearest
depot of police, and stated the case to the
superintendent, who took down the artists
description" and promised cheerfully
that living or dead" he should be found
before morning. p.
There was nothing more to be done, but
he could not return home alone; he dis
missed the hack, and continued his search
on foot, wandering aimlessly through the
busy brilliant streets, where the shop-win-
dows glittered through the rain, and the
long lines of gas-lamps were reflected in
the wet pavements.
Nearly four hours had passed in this
way, and he was wet through, and tired
out when he found himself on the Pont
aux Doubtless under the solemn shadow of
Notre Dame, whose clock had just struck
ten.
The rain had ceased, and the moon
CLEANED fitfully through broken and dis
persing clouds. The water was touched
with treniulous lustre, and when little
flaw of wind struck the surface every rip
pie had silvery edge. '.s:.
The bridge was deserted except for a SOL
itary loiterer like himself, leaning with
folded arms on the parapet, at little dis
tance.
Something in the mans figure and atti-
tude struck him as familiar He scrutin-
lied him for moment with growing hope,
then moved toward him. He soon saw
that he had not been deceived by chance
resemblance. 1t was Leon who stood there,
looking down gloomily at the river. Alb
sorbed in his thoughts, he did not perceive
the others approach till he felt hand on
his shoulder, then he started and looked
round.
Monsieur Vautreau!"
IL thought was not mistaken" the lat
ter returned composedly; "this is a for
tunate chance; have just been to your
rooms, and was disappointed to find you
from home. Are you walking my way ?"
Without waiting for an answer, he link
ed his arm firmly within the artists: but
Leon drew back.
mol am not going your way, what
ever it is. For the future our paths lie
apart, if you please"
"For the future, so be it. But for the
present 1 ask you as favor to give me
your company for few minutes. Are you
50 bitter against me that you can not grant
me that simple request?" r
II am not bitter against you," the young
man answered, in weary tone, moving on
with him mechanically. "I am too
wretched to be angry. Despair leaves no
room for resentment"
"'Despair!' ia, ia, tai" his companion
responded with cheerful contempt; "de.
spair at ive-and-twenty, with all the world
before you; with talent, health, good looks,
and-to crown your happiness-the love of
the sweetest girl in Paris!" Leon stopped
short in sheer astonishment.
"How do you know" he began.
"How do know that Edmee loves you :?
On good authority, by George! l had it
from her own lips not many hours ago. I
was not aware till then, Monsieur Leclerc.
that you were my niece's fiance."