Vermont watchman and State journal. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1836-1883, 1883-01-24

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 have thought of
vengeance in my hearth And although L,
too, die, the good God has been merciful to
me. l die slowly inch by inch, and not in
joy' as she did No; joy and l parted long
ago."
"But, my daughter, surely for one so near
her end, thy thoughts are too much en-.
| crossed by this world. Come to me in con-
fessional and hear Of heavenly things, and
put the thought of this marriage behind
thee as temptation Of the enemy"
"Oh, father, you mistake me T. cried
| Eulalie, and there was slight ring of in.
dignstion in her voice. al do no wicked
| thing in marrying Antoine. | love him.
He is come back to me in sorrow and re.
morse, 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 re-
ceive my last prayer, my last word but if |
refuse him | must die away from his pres
ence. and my mother will hate him.
Say no more, poor child; | will marry
| thee, if thou wilt"
"Thanks, father. All the formalities the
law demands are done; we will come to
church tomorrow TO be united"
She went down the garden with feeble
step, and as she turned to shut the wicket
gate | caught sight of her face.
Was this the flower Of st. Etienne Poor
| flower how changed and sad, how pale and
broken, since saw her, but year ago, ra
diant in the Joy of her first love
"What has happened Z" 1 asked the
| priest, as he shook me by the hand. ecu
lalie is much altered. She has dying look
upon her face that grieves me exceedingly
Her face tells but the melancholy truth
my dear friend. She goes with the first
breath of autumn she is in a deep Decline
| "And how is this, that she is not married
to the blacksmith l overheard your talk
You marry her tomorrow ?"
"Yes and am sorry for it, The man
looks upon this marriage as an expiation oi
his sin, and would not grant him this pool
salve to his conscience, could help it."
"But they were to have been married al
the New Year." cried. al cannot under
stand this delay-why is it ?"
| AT the New Year Antoine was talking
of marriage to another maiden. Sit down
and / will tell you the tale.
| "All went well with Antoine and Eulalit
till the feast of st. Barbe, last November
| <hb thC iittic NlhhSc VI cI. DdlDC dClOoo VIZ
hill, there was dance on their festival day
Antoine went to it; Eulalie did not go. The
weather was rough and he persuaded her tC
remain at home OF late, l think, he hat
wearied little of her love, and her calm
temper, which never tried him with caprice
or coquetry.
"Tbere was procession and much extri
service at the Church of st. Barbe on thu
festival day and | went there to assist tn,
priest So it happened that passed dowr
among the dancers in the afternoon and oh
served Antoine dancing vigorously with
handsome girl named Therese Dufresne."
81 have ever thought him a tickle man,
| said, interrupting the priests story with
sigh.
"Fickle and heartless. The dance wa
but the beginning of his coquetry will
Therese. A few Sundays more he still az
peared by Eulalies side in coming hom
from mass few evenings more he waite
for her as she came from vespers then h
went over shamefully to his idol, and all tn
village knew she was deserted. She had n
pride to bear up. She sank from that day
making no effort to hide her grief.
"But, engrossed in his new passion, An
tome noticed nothing. He was at st. Barb
every day. He spent all his Sundays an
holidays there. From her window Eulali
often watched him as he walked whistlin
and careless over the hill, swinging in hi
hand the flowers he was taking to Therest
"Therese was handsome girl-a thoroug
Ardennaise, with dark hair and eyes an
ruddy brown complexion tall and strong
with an arm almost as well able to WELD
hammer as Antoine's own. Moreover, sh
was wilful in her temper and capricious
and this suited man Of Antoine's disposi
tion and character.
"As he went to st. Barbe he never kney
whether his greeting would be kind or crue
, If she had parted with him with kiss o.
one day she might meet him with frow
and hard word on the next. And so, il
spite of their many quarrels she kept tn
, tickle man faithful, far more enthralled b
her coarse beauty and hard caprices tina
ever he had been by the perfect love an
loveliness of Eulalie.
"At length he told in triumph that h
had won her consent to wed him, and h
wore at his forge more joyous face
whistling and singing as he handled hi
, work and sent forth the sparks from his fir
merrily into the little street.
"Eulalie would not believe the new.
She could not, would not, deem him so crue
and heartless. Up to this time she ha
/; perhaps nursed some foolish hopes, som
thought that he would leave his tickle fame
and come back to her. And when he
mother told her the tale of his approachin
marriage she shook her head and said sh
, would only believe it from his own lips.
, "She went down to the forge, where tn
I hammer sounded merrily on the anvil an
the sparks flew, and the laughter and jes
! of rude health helped the work, and adde
/ to its noisy music. There, unnoticed, sh
leaned moment against the doorsil
watching the brawny arms and handsom
. face of her false lover, as, in the pride @
his strength he welded and moulded th
glowing iron on his anvil. He, careless i
the enjoyment of his coarse health, an
, happy in this tickle love, and she pal,
broken-hearted and dying-dying for him
| There she stood at his door unregarded-
, she who had wasted health and life an
] love on him when he trilled a rollickin
ditty with amorous lips and the glow of tn
fire warm on his ruddy cheek. But sue
l denly he turned his light hazel eyes on he
' the sheen of the flames in them, and touc
3 of shame came over him.
I go Maamselle Eulalie, he said, can | d
anything for you Z"
B al am come, gasped the girl, not j
anger, Antoine, but only to hear the trut
from your own lips. Is it true that 20
J marry Therese Dufresne next week 2
"Her face turned ashy pale as she spok
g and she grasped the doorsil with feebl
= hands to support herself. Antoine was en-
J barrassed and silent.
|, "You see, Ma'mselle Eulalie,' he sal,
Struggling his shoulders, and holding oil
! his hands in deprecating way, you al
] scarcely the girl to suit man like III
You are too frail and delicate-almcst Lib
+ a lady,
n "Antoine, was well and happy until
= met and loved you.'
Q Sand wringing her hands together, III
q dying girl looked in his face for pity bl
: there was none. There was only roug
. kind of shame in the man, and feeling
J, irritation that she should dare to come the
a and reproach him with her pale face al
Q hollow eyes.
"'You had better go home, mademoisell,
t the villagers will wag their tongues at you
n they see you speaking TO me now.'
4 "The truth the truth Tell me IL
truth, Antoine that is all ask
v "Well, then, since you will have it-ye
:. | marry Ma'mselle Therese'
!, "And as he spoke his brides name the
d shone in his pale eyes that amorous ligl
e and gleam of triumphant passion that
days gone by had fallen upon her face
II warm rays, when ne stopped TO kiss her,
II when, beneath the summer shade of tre
g they had walked hand in hand, talking
= Il T.