The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1883-04-11

AAhls iollO ilhtNl llllll. Dllb WAS weary
of her own life, Gagged and cribbed as
she was she longed for freedom from
the restraint that poverty and widow
hood were constantly imposing upon
her and all these combined operated
wonderfully in Eugene's favor. The
marriage was strictly private, and
half Mr.. Stanbury's friends had no
suspicion that she had ever married at
all until she became his wife.
He took her to q pleasant home, as
comfortable If not quite as luxurious
as the one she had shared with M.
Valentin and all that she could ask
for was showered upon her with gen.
erous profusion. Their dwelling, two
or three miles from the heart of Mon
treal, was surrounded with trees and
Towering shrubs of every description.
Inside there was every comfort that a
loving heart could suggest. The heart
of Hortense awOke to life, to love, to
happiness; and to see her thus, reioiced
that of her husband.
Two years of almost unmingled
Bliss went by, but the third year COM
menced with some alarm for the health
Of Eugene. Twice had Hortense seen
him draw q handkerchief from his
lips, which was stepped in blood; and
often his nights were passed in cough
ing until nature was exhausted, and
the morning sleep found him drenched
in the terrible sweats which so surely
portend consumption Hortense strug-
gled against this new and terrible sor-
row. 1t was the first time that she
had watched over one dear to her. 1t
was the first time that she had seen
the effects of this insidious disease,
and hope and fear alternated in her
breast, until at length she hoped
against all hope, and the blow came
down upon her all the harder that she
had not schooled herself to feel its ap-
proach.
1t was hard to see him parting with
the mute evidences of his brief happi-
ness. Every window where he sat
with her, every arbor where they had
rested, every tree under whose shades
they had walked, or whose trunk he
had carved with her name, all received
a farewell look.
"How can / part with you, dear
estf" he asked, after his painful jour
ney round the rooms and the garden.
Eugene do not name it," she said;
"you will break my heart"
"But you must hear it, Hortense. l
cannot stay with you long. Thank
heaven that leave you above want.
Promise me, dear, that you will never
leave this home. Trust me; will be
with you in spirit when the form is
laid in the earth: watching, guarding,
if possible. speaking to you"
1t was his last night on earth. When
the morn broke his eyes were closed in
the slumber of death.
Hortense wandered for months about
her beautiful home like q perturbed
spirit. There was nothing that had
been touched by Eugene that had not
solemn and sacred value in her
eyes. The trees he had planted, the
bowers he had formed, all had a mean
ing to her that no one else could un-
derstand; and yet upon each one of
these and upon her whole heart and
life seemed written, "the glory has de-
parted"
1t is time to 90 back to the days of
M. Valentin, and see what became of
the fond husband, the courageous ad.
venturer. At first he was almost dis.
tracted at the thought of parting with
Hortense; but once the Rubicon
passed, he became more calm. A few
years he thought would find them to-
gether, never to part; and perhaps
they would be all the happier for the
separation.
Full of hope he went to the mines
of Australia. Day by day he wrought
there enduring hardships unheard OF
before, but bearing them with the
courage and fortitude of a hero. Ever
before him was the word Hortense. II
nerved his arm in the rough mines
when he struck his iron into the gold
giving soil; it sOothed him when he lay
burning with fever in rude shanty in
the mountains; his thought by day anC
his dream by night was still his OWL
Hortense Not word, however, evel
reached him from her; and often ht
shuddered at the fearful probabilitiei
that arose to his mind. Hortense might
be sick, suffering; might deem hin
dead or unfaithful; no, that could
never be-she would have faith in hin
as in the sun. Come what would sh,
would not be shaken in her trust. Blu
as he lay in the miserable shed whicl
/ held his sick bed he would have giVeI
worlds for one glance from her eye, on,
pressure of her hand to show that h,
was not forgotten, and as lie watched
the stars overhead; shining through tn
crevices of the low roof, he thought
that il Hortense were dead she woulC
appear to him then in his need.
The rude miners were too intent OF
gain to watch beside his bed, ant
many were the long days and nights il
which he lay untended. Aid came a
last in the shane of a child-a yOuni