The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-03-19


And shrink with sudden dread,
That although she loved mo so
She may not be happy dead
CEClLE.
from the French Of G. de Cherville, by Fran
els Shaw.
Every afternoon toward o'clock a
carriage bearing crest drew up at tho
gate of the Tuileries opposite the Rue
des Pyramides. When the footman had
opened the door the first to descend was
woman, who carefully assisted down
the steps ayoung man of timid and hest
tating gait. Then drawing the arm of
her companion within her own, she en-
tered the garden with babe in her
arms.
The young man, who was not yet
quite 80. was as remarkable for elegance
of form as for regularity of features.
But there was one defect in the other
wise perfect ensemble; the fame which
should have vivified it was extiuguished.
The unhappy man was blind.
The two in exterior formed a striking,
almost brutal contrast. Nature, liber-
al to probability toward the one, had
been strangely avaricious to the other.
The poor woman was small, sickly, ug-
ly; her irregular features had besides
that suffering expression which not
even youth can mitigate, and which de-
fes all arts of the toilet.
How then could it have happened,
this i'll assorted union? How had Co.
Gle Berthaut. humble governess, as
void of fortune as of attractions, become
the wife Of Count Robert de Chatillion
She had just finished an engagement
as governess in Moldavian family at
Jassy, and was returning to France by
way of Vienna. when a serious accident
to the steamboat on which she had set
out, had compelled the captain to
leave his passengers at Ribitzno, thirty
leagues from Belgrade. Upon arri-
val at the only and very mediocre inn of
the village, the young girl saw that her
accent excited no little emotion. The
landlord, finding that she was French
woman, informed her that there had
been for several days in his house a
young Frenchman seriously i'll, his
situation rendered still more deplorahle
from his inability to speak a word of
German or Hungarian.
Poorly lowered as was Cecile Ber-
thaut in external gifts, she was rich in
shining qualities of the heart. All
generous and elevated sentiments found
q home in her breast. Without mo-
ment's delay she sought her country
man.
his condition was even more grave
than the inn-keeper had said. From an
exploring voyage to the mouth of the
Danube he had brought the germs of
malignant fever which had forced him
to stop at Rinitzno. The disease had
developed with frightful radidity. Two
days after taking his bed the young Of
ficer had fallen into a comatose state
of evil augury. When Cecile entered
his sick-room he was in delirium, and
could answer her questions only by in
coherent words. Profoundly moved by
this deplorable isolation, fascinated,
perhaps, by that charm of feature that
triumphed over the ravages of disease,
the young girl decided at once to fulfil
the mission Providence had ordained,
by leading her to this unfortunate, she
resolved to care for him, and if fatal
issue was inevitable, to soothe his last
moments.
The sick mans name was stamped
upon his valise, pocketbook contained
his passport. This she sent immedi-
ately to the French ambassador at vi
emma, advising him of the desperate
condition of NJ. de Chatillon and i'm
ploring him to inform the relatives.
This duty fulfilled, she gave her days
and nights to the work OF charity she
had undertaken.
The task, arduous at best, became
more so from her lack of confidence in
the Hungarian physician of Ribitzno.
His repeated blood lettings allayed the
fever, but at the same time aggravated
the cephalic symptoms; the delirium
continued and the eyes become the seat
of an alarming inflammation.
For ten days Cecile had watched at
the sick mans pillow. So much at
tached had she become to her work
that it was not without pressure at
the heart that she saw carriage stop
at the inn and an old lady with white
hair step from it,. After few words
with the landlord the lady mounted the
stairs. The young girl felt sure that
this was NJ. de Chatillon's mother; that
her mission was ended.
Breathless the newcomer fastened to
the bed. At sight of the ghastly ema-
ciated face of her son she sank sobbing
upon her knees. The sick man, who
had fallen into the torpid state of the be-
ginning of the crisis, scarcely turned his
head. Cecile approached the old lady,
explained her presence, and sought to
console her. Deeply moved by the de-
votion of stranger to her child, Nine.
de Chattillon thanked Cccile with the
CAOIueuc0 OF mOtner men8ceO IN the
very flesh of her flesh.
In spite of this burst of gratitude c.
Gle saw that her position near this
young man was becoming difficult, and
said to Nine. de Chatillion that as her
son was now assured of mothers un-
equaled care there was now no him
drance in the way of her journey, and
she would leave on the morrow.
The old lady protested; she implorea
the young girl not to leave her. She
spoke with vehemence that seemed
to rouse her son from his legarthy. He
moved his hand several times with an
air ofimpatience. Cecile, who was near
est the bed, took the hand in hers, try
ing to calm the sufferer. At this con-
tact the wasted fingers pressed her
wrist significantly.
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