The Pascagoula democrat-star. (Pascagoula, Miss.) 1878-1920, 1886-07-23


traces OF Marie's careful fingers.
"MoB garc0nw the old man cried,
81 knew you would come! | wait
ed for you'll But Marie has gone-I
could not keep her !"
"Where is she ~ he gasped,
"Where did she go p
ITO Capelette, on the Toulon
road. Her aunt has 1.-THE cholera.
Non Diea! She went TO nurse
her.D
"And did You not prevent her ~
Mr.. Calmet bowed his head. "She
is in Gods hands. He will not let
her die.'
"When did she goG7
"Siy days since"
Louis Beaufort shuddered. New
er in all his life had he been in the
Quarter Capelette. 1t was the
vilest of all Marseilles quarters,
lying across the old ship canal.
Aud Marie, his daring was there |!
She has indeed "put self away"
"Did she leaye no word ?" he
asked hoarsely.
Mr.. Calmet nodded. "You must
not follow her,"
"Tell me where she can be
found u he demanded fiercely. alt
will be her death ! | must go to
her y
The old man infinitely described
the locality. and soon Lonis Beau.
fort was speeding across town to
CapeIette. Toulon road was wide
street without trees. Here and
there were bonfireS of tar and sui
phur. The house he sought was a
eoner tenement. Eagerly he sprang
up the cleaking stairs. A small
door stood open. He peered in.
Near by, on low bed, lay two fig
ures. The moonlight fell tull upon
one FACET was Marie's.
What Il meeting
The weak hands were stretched
out IN welcome, but the faint voice
taltered "Louis, mon ami, leave
me Do not touch me am dy-
iugp
For answer he clasped her to his
breast. sob, my darlingn he
moaned. 81 can not let you go
from me. How will l live without
you y
"Hush y she whispered. "God |
wills it SO. but obeyed the voice
of duty. Putting self away is "a
blessed thing, dear Louis"
He brushed back her damp curls,
and tried TO warm the cold hands |
in his own. But he had come too
late. Death was indeed approach.
ing.
"Aunt Juliette is dying too,7 ,7con-
timed Marie, reSIguedly. "She
has not spoken for a long time.
Please light the candle, Louis. l
want to die with my eyes on your
kind face.o
Dumbly he obeyed. The pale,
paindIawn face frightened for
moment. 81 knew you would find
me. God did not let me die with
out seeing you again. l prayed |
that you might come but it was
selfish. ought to say CO."
81 will never leave yOu-in life"
he murmured.
She pressed his band convulsive
ly. ~ did right in coming here,
did | not? | was so happy, yet l
put self far away 1t is hard to
die now, when tomorrow | might
have been your wife. Pray for us,
dear Louls-Aunt Juliette aud me.
We will be going s0on."
Then Louis Beaufort knelt by
The humble bed. He bad not pray
I'd for years, but words now came
u stream.
"Father of the good,' he cried,
Il give my darling back to Thee.
Take her to Thy bosom-my little
White lamb. Her short life has
)een a sweet song. Thou hast
leard it up in heaven. She has
,ut self away-the greatest of all
arthly victories: Recelve also this
'ther soul. Thou knowest her life.
Forgive my many sins. am unfit
o come before Thee. Help me so
o live, that | may at last meet my
arliug IN heaven.
Great subs shook his frame. Ma
les cold fingers tremblimgly
dreaded his glossy curls. "Poor
Iouis, it is bard, but it is for the
eSt. Aunt Juliette will be with
le until you come. She has al
eady gOne before. Look Sue
oes not breathel She taught me {
0 be good-She will have her re-
Iard. Kiss me, Louis! | VIII I
oon be tar away"
Reverently he touched her lips,
row and hands. A rare smile was |
n her face. Then, softly, sweetly, {
be began to sing:
"Une belle Patri,
Dams less hautes cieux.
Rassamble apres la via,
Les Bien heureux,
lis aurent Ia yictOire
Par IEsprit dn seigneur
Oh CONNIE lis cbantent
Gloire, Gloire an Sauveur."
1t was a pretty hymn she had
earned in childhood. All the Eng. {
sh he had taught her was forgot
sn now. Slowly her dark eyes (
Iosed, aud with a low murmured {
Adleu ~ hQr mira snirit rnnt an !