Cheyenne transporter. [volume] (Darlington, Indian Terr.) 1879-1886, 1885-09-04

They looked at each other in con.
sternation and Leoisel began to dress.
81 will 90 over the whole distance
we walked" " said he, "to see if | can
find it"
He went out. She sank into a chair
and remained there in evening dress,
without fire, without strength to go to
bed.
Her husband returned about
o clock. He had found nothing.
He went out again, and she waited
all day in the same state of terror be-
fore this fearful disaster.
Leoisel returned at night with
pale and hollow face. He had found
nothing.
you must write to your friend"
said he, "that you have broken the
clasp of the necklace and have sent it
to be repaired. That will give us
time to turn around"
At the end of week they had lost
all hope. Leolsel, looking five years
older, declared;
1--WE must contrive to replace the
necklace
The next day they took the box
which had contained it, and went
from shop to shop, i'll with chagrln and
anxiety, looking for necklace like
the lost one. They found, at length,
a chaplet of diamonds which appear
ed to them exactly what they wanted,
1t was worth $4,000 francs They
begged the jeweler not to sell it for
three days, and made the condition
that it should be taken back If the lost
one should have been found before the
end of ebruary-Leoise's father had
left HIM $4,000 francs. The rest he
would have to borrow. He obtained
! 1000 francs from one man and 500
from another, 5 louis here and louis
! there, he incurred ruinous Obligations
with the whole race of usurerS. He
| risked his signature without the least
! idea whether he would be able to hon
or 1T; and oppressed by anguish in
view of the future, by the black power
/ ty he saw settling down upon them,
by the prospect of physical privations
and mental tortures, he called for the
new necklace, counting out to the
merchant 81, 900 francs.
When Nine. Leoisel took the neck
lace to Nine. Forester the latter said
with annoyance:
''You ought to have returned it
sooner; | might have wanted it.
But she did not open tAe casket.
Mathilde now became acquainted
with the life of the necessitous. She
took up her share of the burden hero
lcally. She was going to help pay this
frightful debt. She dismissed her SER
want and changed her lodgings for an
attic. She learned to perform the
coarse and odious tasks of the kitchen
She washed the dishes, and wore her
rosy nails to the quick on the bottoms
of greasy kettles. She washed the
soiled linen and dried it on IA cord at
the window. She carried the ashes
and sweeplngs to the street every
morning, and carried up water, stop
ping at each landing of the stairs to
breathe. She went to the grocer and
the butcher, her basket on her arm,
defending her miserable money, sou
by sou.
Her husband worked evenings, clear
ing merchants account, and often
did copying at five sous page.
This life lasted ten years At the
end of that time they had paid all,
with accumulated interest.
! Mathilde looked old. She had be-
come the rude, strong, hardened
woman of the poor, with unkempt
hair, rough hands, and gown awry.
She talked loud and scrubbed the
floors with great splashing of water.
But at times, when her husband was
out, she sat before the window and
dreamed OF that ball, so long ago,
where she had been so lovely and so
admired.
What would she have been had she