The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1885-03-19
was a. necessary to the mother a. to tho

was a. necessary to the mother as to the
son.
The hurried journey. tho cruel emo
tons she had suffered, had Frustrated
the already ailing Nine. de Chatillon,
and Ceoile. besides her other duties,
now had the care Of . confirmed inva-
lid.
The scene just related seemed to
have produced salutary effect upon
the sick man; the fever disappeared,
reason returned, he regained some
strength, but his sight grew no better.
When Cecile at length took her two pa
tients to Vienna she summoned q coun.
Gil of physicians. They decided that
the iris had lost its power of contrac-
ton, that amanrosis was complete. that
N. de Chatilion must resign himself to
lifelong blindness, decision confirmed
. few months later by the most re-
nowned oculists of Paris.
They then retired to the Chatilion
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 guardi-
an angel.
The blind man who had hitherto
borne his affection with 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 inter-
minable reveries. Her shorter 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 passing
hour brings nearer the moment Of
our reunion, my sorrow loses day by
day it's bitterness. Cruel as is my
destiny I have become resigned to
it, and I must say to you. Cecile, that
you have rendered my lot 80 sweet that
l have many times blessed my misfor-
tune. The cause of my sadness lies
neither in the past nor present; it is
anxiety for the future"
"What then do you fear?" asked Co.
Gle, TREMENDOUSLY.
"That may lose some day her to
whom owe so much. I fear this not
only because without her care my mis-
fortune will assume new horrors, but
because I love you"
Cecile's face blanched. 1T is wrong,
she sobbed, ''for you to doubt my
friendship"
"Your friendship" echoed the young
man bitterly; "Cecile, this would alone
justify my terrors. What will it weigh,
this friendship, if one day sentiment
that admits neither partition nor rivalry
comes to take possession of your heart !?
No, no! If you would really have me
recover that early serenity; if you
would have mo as at the first, bear pa
tiently, even gayly the lot that casts me
off from the number of those who be-
hold Gods creatures and His beautiful
world, there must exist between you
and me tie other and stronger than
friendship-you must consent to be-
come my wife,"
For a moment speech1ess, Cecile fix
ed her amazed eyes upon the blind man.
She seemed not to have understood his
words.
30, heavenw she cried at length.
"How deeply I regret not having reach
ed Ribitzno two days earlier"
'Why, Ceci]e?"
because you then could have seen
me, monsieur; because if you had seen
me my plain face would have remained
so deeply craven in your remembrance
as to spare you this new trouble after
so many sorrows. This confession costs
my self-love nothing. am ugly, Mon
sieur Robert; so ugly that my friend
ship, the friendship you value so lightly,
would never consent to give you COM
panion so unworthy of you"
mo, you can not be ugly, Cecile. The
eyes which mirror this celestial sweet
ness and all the noble sentiments of the
most generous and loving of hearts can
not be without their charm; there must
be seductions in the smile that accom-
panies voice 50 gentle and penetrat-
ing. And what matters to me more or
less regularity in the features? I, alas,
shall never see! What love in you
is your soul, and this world holds not q
soul more beautiful and pure"
Cecile had listened, bewildered, en-
tranced, despite herself, at these in
toxicating words; enchanted at seeing
rise before her that prospective she had
never dared cherish even in dreams.
Rut soon recalled to the reality, con-
fused, ashamed at having submitted to
an enthrallment not sanctioned by rea-
son, she protested more energetically
than ever, that her resolution was
formed, and no arguments could change
it.
This heroic contest went on for near
~ two months. NJ. de Chatillon re-
turned daily to the charge with more
impassioned earnestness. But there
was a traitor in the stronghold-the
heart of the poor young girl. The health
of the besieger also began to give way,
and anxiety for him at length decided
the besieged to waive her scruples, and
sign an honorable capitulation.
This is how the former governess be.
came the Countess de Chatillon.
Never had union been more happy {;
never had two beings so nearly realized
the ideal of perfect marriage. But
Ceclle could not believe in the duration
of this radiant felicity. As upon that
day when her husband had first told her
of his love, she often believed herself
the sport of some illusion. Then the
least sound or movement would make
her tremble. 1t seemed to her that the
awakening from her dream might come
at any moment.
By reason of n. de Chatillon's blind
ness, the social relations of his family
embraced only immediate relatives.
One evening at the salon of Nine. de
(T1eveS n conan IF ROhorf'a vho a 70.