The true northerner. [volume] (Paw Paw, Mich.) 1855-1920, 1883-11-01

so tenderly. And after ten weeks of
intimate companionship you bid me
good-by as you would stranger of
yesterday"
Still she did not move or speak, and
the hand he held remained unrespon-
sive to his clasp.
You may never see me again, Victor
me-, he continued. Our paths lie far
apart. Let me hear you say that you
do not regret having known me.
"Why should regret it ?" she asked,
turning suddenly and facing him. You
have been here ten weeks, but in that
time you have told us nothing of your
self save that your name is Hugo Las
celles. You say we have been kind to
you, but you have not rewarded our
kindness by giving US your confidence.
Do you think L owe you lasting remem-
brance? Do you think that you deserve
that should carry your image here?"
laying her hand on her heart.
The young man appeared to hesitate !;
then he said slowly:
1T is as well, perhaps, that you
should forget me. Forgive me If my
reticence has wounded you. l dare not
attempt any justification. But it grows
late Farewell, Victorine. When the
sun rises tomorrow / shall be far on
my road to Paris"
Farewell" she said, coldly.
She heard him turn and walk away,
but made no effort to recall him. She
stood where he had left her, silent,
motionless, her head bent forward on
her breast, the long, silken fringes of
her eyelids resting on her pale cheeks.
1t was only when the sound of his
footsteps had died away that she raised
her head and looked about her.
Hugo! Hugo!" She breathed the
words rather than spoke them. Gone !
gone! Never in this life shall me meet
again"
She went into the cabin and lighted a
candle. AS she did so she perceived a
sheet of paper lying open on the table.
SHE picked it up and found upon it a
few lines from her father:
II have gone away, and cannot tell you
when l may return. You are safe in the
cabin. Remain there until your provisions
give out. Then raise the fifth board in the
floor. counting from the fireplace, and take
the bag you will find there. Ii contains suffi-
cient money to last you several years.
while talked with Hugo, he came
and left this" she murmured. "His
daughter is as nothing to him compared
with his desire for power He has left
me alone to live or die, as the good
God may see fit. And, had l only
dared to speak, might have won both
love and station. One word would
have bridged the gulf between Hugo
and me. Oh, father! father! your
secret has proved my DOOM"
AS the last word left her lips she
threw up her arms with bitter cry,
and cast herself prone on the floor, her
face downwards, no tears III her eyes,
but hoarse, gasping sobs tearing their
way from her breast, and her white,
slender hands buried in her long, dark
hair. For a long time she lay thus,
making no effort at self-control, giving
free license to the wild emotions of her
burdened heart.
But at length she grew quiet and lay
motionless, as if utterly exhausted with
the force of her strange passion. The
moon rose slowly, and shed its calm,
cold light upon her, the wind sighed
through the forest like lost spirit,
the hours wore on, but still she stirred
not She lay there like n dead thing,
and the cold, gray light of morning
found her position unchanged.
On the morning of Friday, June 20,
1S4S, the city of Paris presented a scene
of horror seldom equaled. In the east
ern half of the city, every street had
its battle, and every stone OF the barri-
cades was spotted with human gore.
Each window was loophole from
which flashed the leaden death. The
fight ragged from house to house, from
chamber to chamber. Men fired at
each other from parapets on the roofs,
and the dead bodies fell heavily on the
streets below. Every atrocity of civil
war or known among savages was per-
petrated on the prisoners by the in
surgents. Beaten from barricade to
barricade, they were unable to guard
their captives, and condemned them to
die as fratricides. The young men of
the Mobile Guard, nearly all natives of
Paris, the heroes of the barbados of
the preceding February, were treated
by the insurgents as traitors. Some
of them were decapitated, and their
heads stuck on pixies, and, surmounted
by the military hat, served as banners
on the heights of several barbados.
In the Pantheon, near the tomb of Vol
taire, Mobile Guard was crucified. At
other points they were disombowled
and placed in front of the barricades to
strike their comrades with horror.
Nothing was heard but the discharge
of the musketry, the thunder of the can
non, the roll of the drum and the
shrieks of the women. The combatants
uttered no cry, but pursued in silence
the work of death. The beautiful city
presented most changed appearance
from what it bore before the beginning
of the uprisal. And the palace of the
Tuileries, with its magnificent furni
tire, its velvet and satin-covered chairs,
its soft Turkey carpets, its tapestried
chambers, it's luxurious apartments of
every description, was turned into a
hospital.
In the Quarter st. jacques, on the
Rue Sorbonne, the battle had ragged
for seven long hours, and the dead and
dying lay in every direction. The
troops had moved on, and few of the
| II 4 Il.