The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1888-10-07
[AH Rights Reserved. ]
CHAPTER XII.

ing I'D the most minute details, growing
more and more excited at the recollection
of them. She omitted nothing, but
searched her memory, as it were, for con-
fession. She was not at all embarrassed,
although her cheeks grew very red, and her
ewes sparkled with flashes of pride; yet she
did not raise her voice, but continued to talk
earnestly in half whisper.
: At length, Hubertine interrupted her,
speaking also very low.
"Ah, my dear! now you are too excited.
You have indeed to correct yourself, for
YOU are carried away by your feelings, as il
by great wind. All, my vain, my
headstrong child, you are always the same
little girl who refused to wash up the
! kitchen floor, and who kissed her own
hands"
Angelique could not prevent herself from
mo, do not laugh. 1t may be that by
and by you will not have tears enough to
weep. My poor darling, this marriage can
never take place"
Again her gaiety burst out in long, mu-
steal laugh.
"But mother, mother what are you say
inga DO you wish to punish me by teasing
mea 1t is a very simple matter. This even
ing Felicien is to talk of it with his father
Tomorrow he will come to arrange every
thing with you"
Could it be true, that she believed all
thss Hubertine was distressed and knew
not what to do. At last she concluded it
was best to be pitiless and tell her; that it
would be impossible for little embroiderer
without money and without name to marry
Felicen d. Hautecour. A young man who
was worth so many millions! The last de-
scendant of one of the oldest families of
France No, that could never be.
But at each new obstacle Angelique tran
gully replied: But why notg' 1t would
be real scandal, a marriage beyond all
ordinary conditions of happiness. Did she
hope then to contend against all the world9
"But why notp Monseigneur is called very
strict and very naughty, proud of his name
and severe in his criticisms in regard to all
marks of affection. Could she dare to ex-
pect to bend hima
"But why nota' And unsuitable in her
faith, in her firm, ingenious manner, she
said:
at is very odd, dear mother that YOU
should think people all so bad! Especially
when have just assured you that every
thing is well under way and is sure to come
out all right. Do you not recollect that
only two months ago you scolded me, and
ridiculed my plansf Yet I was right, and
everything that I expected has come to
pass"
''But, unhappy child, wait for the endr'
Hubertine thought of the past, and was
angry with herself, as she now reflected,
more bitterly than ever before, that Angel
ique had been brought up in such ignor-
ance. Again she predicted to her the hard
lessons of the reality of life, and she would
have liked to have explained to her some of
the cruelties and denominations of the world,
but greatly embarrassed, she could not find
the necessary words. What a grief it would
be to her if some day she we're forced to ac-
cuse herself of having brought about the
unhappiness of this child, who had been
kept alone as a recluse. and allowed to dwell
in the continued falsehood of imagination
and dreamsl
Listen to me, dearest. You certainly
would not wish to marry this young man,
against the wish Of us all, and without the
consent Of his fathers"
Angelique had grown very serious. She
looked her mother in the face and in a seri-
Gus tone replied:
"Why should not do 500 Hove him and
he loves me-"
With a pang of anguish, Hubertine took
her again in her arms, clasped her tenderly,
but convulsively and looked at her earnest,
but without speaking. The pale moon had
disappeared from sight behind the cathe-
dral, and the flying misty clouds were now
dehcately colored In the heavens by the ap-
proach of the dawn. They were both of
them envsloped in this purity of the early
morn, in the great fresh silence, which was
alone disturbed by the little chirping of the
just awakening birds.
But alasl my dear child, happiness is only
found in obedience and in humility. For
one little hour of passion, or of pride, we
sometimes are obliged to suffer all our lives.
II you wish to be contented on this earth,
ha ,hyy,io 10 ha
give up everything"
But feeling that she was still rebellious
under her embrace, that which she had never
said to any one, that which she still hest
tated to speak Of almost involuntarily es-
capped from her lips.
Listen to me once more, my dear child.
You think that we are happy, do you not,
your father and l. We should indeed be so,
had not our lives been embittered by great
vocation"
She lowered her voice still more, as she
related to her with a trembling breath their
history. The marriage without the consent
Of their mother, the death of their infant,
and their vain desire to have another child,
which was evidently the punishment of
their fault. Still, they adored each other.
They had lived by working, had wanted for
nothing; but their regret for the child they
had lost was SO ever present that they would
have been wretchedly unhappy, would
have quarrelled and perhaps even have been
separated had it not been that her hus-
band was so thoroughly good, while for
herself she had always tried to be just and
reasonable.
Reflect, my daughter. Do not put any
stumbling block in your path which will
make you suffer later on. Be humble, obey,
check the impulse Of your heart as much as
possiblen
Subdued at last, Angelique restrained her
tears, but grew very pale as she listened and
Interrupted her by saying:
Mother, you pain me terribly. l love
him and | am sure that he loves me-"
Then she allowed her tears to flow. She
was quite overcome by all she had listened
to, softened, and with an expression in her :,
eyes as ii deeply wounded by the glimpse
given her of the probable truth Of the case
Yet she could suffer, and would willingly
die II need be for her love.
Then Hubertine decided to continue:
II do not wish to pain you too deeply at
once. Yet it is absolutely necessary that
you should know the whole truth Last
evening, after you had gone upstairs, had
quite talk with the Able Cornille. and he
explained to me why monseigneur, after
great hesitation, had at last decided to call
his son to Beaumont. One of his greatest
troubles was the impetuosity of the young
man, the uncomfortable haste which he
manifested to plunge into the excitement OF
life, without listening to the advice Of his
elders. After having with pain renowned