The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-10-28

that if the grace they demanded were ever
granted them they would be cognlzant of it
at once.
which they hoped was for another infant, a
| child of pardon, the only sign which would
assure them that at last they themselves
lad been forgiven.
But all was in vain The cold, hard
mother, was deaf to all their entreaties, and
left them under the memorable punishment
of the death of their first-born, whom she
had taken aud carried away, and whom she
refused to restore to them
II prayed there for long time" re-
peated Hubertine. II listened eagerly to
know if there would not be some slight
movement Il w
Hubert questioned her with an anxious
look.
But there was nothing-nol no sound
came up to me from the earth, and within
me there was no feeling of relief. All
too late. We brought about our own I'M
happiness"
Then, trembling, he asked:
DO you accuse me of itW
Yes, you are to blame, and | also did
wrong in following you. We disobeyed
in the beginning, and all our life has been
spoiled in consequence of that enc false
step"
But are you not happyW
No am not happy. A woman who
has no child can never be happy. To love
merely, is not enough. That love must be
crowned and best"
Ha lad fallen into a chair, faint and
overcome, as tears came to his eyes. Never
before had she reproached him for the ever
open wound which marred their lives, and
S who always after having grieved him
80 h., y
quickly recovered herself and consoled
him, this time let him suffer, looking AZ
him as she stood near, but making no sign,
taking no steps toward him.
He wept bitterly; exclaiming in the midst
of his tears:
"Ah, the dear child upstairs; it is she
you condemn. You are not willing that
FelciAn should marry her, as | married
you, and that she should suffer, as you have
done"
She answered simply by look; a clear,
affectionate glance, in which he read the
strength and simplicity Of her heart.
bat you said yourself, my dear, that our
sweet daughter would die from grief if
matters vere not changed Do you then
wish for her death?n
YES. Her death now would be prefera-
bic to an unhappy life."
He left his seat, and clasped her in his
arms as they both sobbed bitterly. For
soma minutes they embraced each other.
Then he conquered himself, and she in her
turn was obliged to lean upon his shoulder,
that he might comfort her and renew her
courage They we're indeed distressed, but
were firm in their decision to keep perfectlp
silent, and if it were Gods will that their
child must die in consequence, they must
accept it submissively rather than advise her
to do wrong.
From that day Angeiique was obliged to
keep in her room. Her weakness increase
so rapidly and to sucD a degree that She
could no longer 60 down t. tue work room
Did she attempt to walk, her head became
dizzy at once and her limbs bent under her
At first, by the aid of the furniture she was
able to get to the balcony. Later, she was
obliged to content herself with going from
her armchair to her bed. Even that dis
tance seemed long, to her, and she only tried
it in the morning and evening, she was so
exhausted.
However, she still worked, giving up tie
embroidery in bas relief as being too d fiji
cult, ard simply making use of colored
silks. She copied flowers after nature, from
a bunch Of hydrangeas and holiyhocks,
which, having no odor, she could keep in
her room,
The bouquet was in full bloom in a large
vase, and often she would rest for several
minutes as she looked at is with pleasure.
for even the light silks were too heavy for
her fingers
In two days she had made one flower
which was fresh and bright as it shone upon
the satin; but this occupation was her life
and she would use her needle until her last
breath. Softened by suffering, emaciated
by the inner fever that as consuming her.
she seemed now to be but spirit, a pure
and beautiful flame that would soon be ex.
tinguished.
Why was it necessary to struggle any
longer if Felicien did not love her? Now
she was dying with this conviction; not
only had he no love for her to-day, but per-
haps he had never really cared for her. So
long as her strength lasted she had commended
against her heart, her health and her youth,
ali of which urged her TO go and join him.
But now that she was unable to move, she
must resign herself and accept her fate
One morning, as Hubert placed her in
her easy chair, ard put cushion under
her little, motionless feet, she said, with &
smile
''Ahl. am sure Of being good now, and
not trying to run away"
Hubert fastened to go down stairs, that
she might not see his tears.