St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1885-07-19
LOVES SACRIFICE.

Z
scattered here and there under the friendly
! shelter Of the cliffs. The inhabitants
hardy, thrifty NomanS-Spend their days
and often nights at the mercy of the wind
| and waves in order TO catch the fish they
| sell for few sous in the markets of Cher
/ bourg. At home their "BOnnes Femmes"
| keep all bright and clean, nurse their chubby
! babies, and send up many a fervent PRAYER
| TO Saint Pierre, the fishermen's patron
saint, for the safety OF those at sea.
In tiny, whitewashed house, at some
/ distance from the other cottages, lived la
/ Mere PouteauX. Her husband who had
lain for many long years IN the little Gene
tary on the hillside, had left her two sons
! jacques and Jean. When Jean was 10
| years old he told his mother and brother he
/ had promised the captain of a Cherbourg
| vessel that he would join him in trip to
| Spain. The next morning he started. with
his bundle in his hand, to seek his fortune,
as he said. Years passed, and nothing was
heard of the wanderer, until he appeared
one day as suddenly as he had left-but not
| alone. He led by the hand little, brown
| gypsy-loOlling girl. with hair like Furnished
/ gold and the darkest of dark eyes-a wild
/ Misunderstanding creature. In few words
! Jean told his mother he had been living all
/ these years in Spain; there he had married
and there his wife had died, leaving him
this one child. He meant now, he said, TO
take up the old life again; he had seen
enough of foreign folk and foreign lands,
and would stay at home with his old mother
and build new boat for himself and one
for jacques, too-he had money enough to
! spare.
More years passed away. The brothers
| made long trips in the fine new vessel
Jeans money had bought, often staying
away for weeks together. They seldom
! brought fish home with them. having sold
it all, they said, at Cherbourg on the way.
! Mere PouteauN was a very old woman now,
hard Of hearing and apathetic. living i'm the
! past and In the future, caring naught for
! the present but TO supply the bodily wants
of herself and her gTandchild. So Marie
grew up as untaught and as wild as the sea-
gulls, whose haunts she loved. Her only
books were sea and sky, her only friends
the rocks and crags. The village children
stunned her as an ncanny creature. From
the day she had first appeared amongst
them, speaking strange tongue, they had
pointed at her and screamed, 1.-The witch,
the witch, running off Immediately after
wards as fast as their sturdy legs would
carry them. The fishermen mending their
nets on the sands often saw her perched
like bird on the very summit of one of the
crags; then throwing herself over the edge.
she would descend, using her hands and
feet, seeming rather to fiy than to slide or
scramble down. They would shake their
heads. mutter prayer or two. and warn
the little ones not TO have anything to do
with her.
But Marie had such an appetite for hap
pinesS that the days never seemed too long
or too lonely to the uncared-for. solitary
child. She would lie for hours in some
nook among the rocks. gazing over the ever
changing surface of the waters her thoughts
far away in a beautiful dream-world all
her own. If anyone had seen her at such
times she might have been taken for a sea-
nymDh lying i'm wait for some unwary mar
liner to lure him TO destruction. She was.
! perhaps, too petite to be altogether beauti-
full, but her small. delicate figure was
straight and supple and she bore her head,
with its crown of gold-brown hair. with an
easy natural grace born OF her Iberian blood.
1 Her eyes were of the darkest, deepest
brown, with spark of that passion in
them that gives to its poSseSSorS a capacity
for happiness far beyond their fellows. but
] too, adds to their sorrows a pang which
coarSer natures can never feel, never even
underStand-paSSiOn which of the good
makes saints and martyrs and of the bad
the demons who disgrace humanity.
One stormy night Marie was seated
cozily before the kitchen fire gazing dream
/ lily into the glowing embers and tracing fan
tastic figures there, and herOld grandmother
sat nOdding over her Spinning-wheel in the
chimney-comer, when the door suddenly
opened and Jacques POuteauN entered.
| The old mother looked at her son and from
him through the open door, which Jacques
! quickly closed and bolted. Then he threw
himself at her feet, and, hiding his face in
! her lap, burst into a storm of tears. She
knew then that she would never welcome
back her youngest son again and that Jean
lay deep in his sailor grave.
To Marie. who had deeply loved the only
parent she had ever known. the blow was
a dreadful one-a blow from which she
never recovered. Henceforth her life was
even more solitary than before for hehalf-
mummiiied old grandmother could not enter
into her feelings, and the dear father. to
whose coming she had always looked for
4 ward with such JOY, lay in the cruel sea.
The years sped on until, when the lonely
girl was about 16. an event happened
which changed the whole tenor of her life
One night she was awakened by the noise
of gravel being thrown against her window.
| She lay listening, not knowing whether il
was fact or fancy. Again came the rattle
of the stones, and, starting from her bed,
she threw open the sash.
Il want you. Dress quickly, and lump
from the window; l will catch you. Don't
make noise, or you will disturb the
mother" said a voice which she recognized
as that Of her uncle. lie had been absent
for some weeks, but it was nothing unus-
ual for him to return thus Unexpectedly and
by night.
In a few moments Marie stood beside
him; the window was not far from the
ground, and she had often leaped from
greater heights in her scrambles among the
rocks. Telling her to follow him and to
keep silent, Jacques led the way down the
narrow, uneven path TO the shore. There
| he paused, took a small lantern from inside
his coat, and, turning its light upon her
face. said:
Swear by the Holy Virgin never to re-
veal what you will see tonight. Do not
be afraid; nothing shall harm YOU"
~ am not afraid, " she answered.
''Swear then" and Marie repeated the
words after him with which she bound her
self never TO reveal the secrets thus sol
! EMMY intrusted TO her.
Come on" said Jacques, leading the
way to a rowbOat lying at the foot of the
cliffs. They entered. and soon the little
! bark was tossing like nutshell from crest
/ 10 crest of the surging waves. In perfect
silence Jacques rowed on until the keel
/ grated on the shore. and Marie, now
eswrought up to the highest pitch of excite
! ment, saw by the1ight Of the lantern that