The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1885-02-07

/ 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 a 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 CHASTITY, ema-
ciated, distended face of her son she
sank sObbing upon her knees. The sick
state of the beginning of the crisis,
scarce turned his head. Cecile APP
preached the old lady, explained her
presence, and sought to console her.
Deeply moved by the devotion of a
stranger to her child Nine de Chatillon
thanked Cecle with the eloquence of u
mother menaced in the very flesh fiber
flesh.
In spite of this burst of gratitude
Cecile saw that her position near this
young man was becoming difficult, and
said to Nine. de ChatillOn that as her
son was now assured of a mothers I'M
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 implored
the young girl not to leave her. She
spoke with q vehemence that seemed to
rouse her son from his lethargy. He
moved his hand several times with an
air of impatience. Cecile, who was
nearest the bed, took the hand in hers,
trying to calm the sufferer. At this
contact the wasted fingers pressed her
wrist significantly.
You see, mademoiselIe," resumed
the afflicted mother ''that he would not
have his guardian angel leave her work
unfinished. For PHYS sake do not for
sake him! You have Just told me that
you were returning to Paris in search of
employment. You have found employ
ment Consider yourself my travelling
companion, and | swear to you that |
will always regard and treat you as my
second child,
Cccile yielded to these moving en-
treaties. She saw that her presence
was as necessary to the mother as to
the son.
The hurried journey, the cruel emo
tons she had suffered, had Frustrated
the already ailing Nine. de ChatillOn,
and Cecile, besides her other duties,
now had the care of confirmed invalid.
The scene just related seemed to have
produced a salutary effect upon the sick
man; the fever disappeared, reason re
turned, he rcgained some strength, but
his sight grew no better. When Cecile
at length took her two patients to
Vienna she summoned a council of
physicians, They decided that the iris
had lost its power of contraction. that
amaurOSis was complete, that NJ de
Chatillon must resign himself to life
long blindness, a decision confirmed
few months later by the most renowned
oculists of Paris.
They then retired to the Chatillon
estate near Monies. Here, after months
of languishing, the mother died, COM
mending her idolized son to the Young
girl she persisted in calling his guardian
angel.
The blind man who had hitherto
borne his affection with a strength of
mind akin to stoicism was strangely af-
fected by this new trial. He became
anxious, preoccupied, almost melan-
choly. When Cecile came to read to
him, to guide him in his daily walk, he
received her with the wonted smile; he
thanked her with the usual touching
emotion, only to fall back into intermin-
able reveries. Her shortest absence
made him impatient, and one day when
some errand to the town had detained
her longer than was expected, she found
him on her return the prey to an agita-
ton he could not conceal.
His solicitude grew daily Cecile, at
tributing his sadness to the loss of his
mother, and to his blindness, coniured
him to make an effort to recover his
former resignation.
Il still weep for my mother" he re-
piled, but convinced that every pass
ing hour brings nearer the moment of
our reunion, my sorrow loses day by
day its bitterness. Cruel as is my des-
tiny | have become resigned to it, and
must say to you, Cecile, that you have
rendered my lot so sweet that | have
many times blessed my misfortune. The
cause of my sadness lies neither in the
past nor present; it is anxiety for the
future"
"What then do you fear?" asked Ce-
Gle. TREMENDOUSLY.
That may lose some day her to
whom owe so much. fear this not
only because without her care my mis-
fortune will assume new horrors, but
because-I love you"
Cecile's face blanched. "Itis wrong"
she sobbed, for you to doubt my friend
ship
Your friendship echoed the young
man bitterly; "Cecile, this word alone
justifies my terrors. What will it weigh,
this friendship, if one day sentiment
that admits neither partition nor rivalry
comes to take possession of your hearth
No, no! If you would really have me
recover that early serenity; ifyou would
have me as the first, bear patiently, even
gayly, the lot that cuts me off from the
number of those who behold God crea-
lures and His beautiful world, there
must exist between you and me tie other
and stronger than friendship-you must
consent to become my wife.
For moment speeches., Cecile fixed
her amazed eyes upon the blind man.
She seemed not to have understood his
words