The Forest Republican. [volume] (Tionesta, Pa.) 1869-1952, 1890-04-02
BLIND!

All Paris was oppressed by that over
powering heat which often precedes a
July storm. Low rumblings of thunder,
like the distant roaring of lion in the
desert, kept coming nearer, until the
storm-cloulds broke with the sharp
crashing NOISE of splitting planks.
The next minute large rain-drops be-
gan to pelt the faces of the passers, and
to speckle with gray drops. the dusty
granite OF the sidewalks.
A pretty brunette about twenty years
old, overtaken by the unexpected show
er, hastened to seek refuge in hospita-
BILE door way.
Her clothing was not such as could be
very seriously injured by the inclement
weather; indeed her attire was extremely
simple, and indicative of the strictest
possible economy. A plain dress of
black merino, well fitted and tastefully
made, and straw hat trimmed with
peoples, showed her to be one of those
little sewing girls whose honest power
ty obliges them to make there own
clothes. Martha Dufou, such was the
young girls name, was pink of neat
ness, from her bare white hands to her
carefully polished low shoes.
1t was only ten o'clock at night, and
the street was almost deserted. A young
man came hurrying along, and al
though he had an umbrella, he ran for
shelter from the rain to the doorway
where Martha stood. He was so alb
sorbed in watching the progress of the
thunderstorm that he had hardly noticed
the girl when dazzling flash of light
ming, followed Immediately by terrible
peal of thunder, illuminated the street,
and at the same instant shrill cry rang
through the air.
'Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed the
young girl, ~ cannot see-it is all dark
the lightning has burnt my eyes--I am
blind !"
Instances of this kind, though COM
paratively rare, are by mo means unknown
in the history of medicine; sudden blind
ness caused by stroke of lightning is
sometimes curable, but when it results
from paralysis of the optic nerve There is
but little chance of recovery.
A flood of tears followed the sighs and
moans of the terrified girl as she reflected
that she could no longer earn her living.
She could not even find her way home
without help-what was to become of
her-must she beg her bread?
Bertrand Camusard was a young clerk,
and being accustomed TO the dissipations
of Paris, was ever on the watch for a
trick. When, therefore, the young girl
bemoaned her fate, he looked at her curl
ously. Her face was not in the least dis
figured, the large dark eyes shone brill
iantly, slight flush relieved the white
ness of her skin, and her features were
small and regular-she was very pretty,
he found.
lis there no one to help mel" she
said, piteously, extending her hand.
'Dot not cry, Mademoiselle," an
swered Bertrand in a soothing tone, ~
will take you home as if l were your
dog"
"Oh, thank you, sir"
"Where do you livel"
"At 1876 Lacondamine street"
"That is close to my house." said
Bertrand to himself, and then he added
aloud, ''the rain has stopped, will you
take my arm?'
As they walked, the young man looked
at his fair charge in surprise; if she was
acting part she was doing it to perfec'
tion. Leaning on his arm, in charm,
ingly confding way, she told him thai
she was an orphan, that she had lately
arrived from the country with no bag
gage excepting letter of recommends
tion to a large establishment where sht
had received employment.
Her listener paid but little heed to he
recital and made few jesting remarks
about the whiteness of her dimpled hands
aud the becomingness of her costume, TO
he was firmly convinced that the girl wa
trying to play a trick on him. At last
wearied by her sad air, he determined t
create diversion, and to show her tha
he was too thoroughly a Parlsian to be S,
easily duped
"Let US go and have a glass of beer,
he said gaily, and with an exclamation
of dismay the girl let go OF his arm an'
stood still,
"Oh, do not try to be so gh-hown :
he added, taking hold OF her TO lead ne
on, but Martha drew back in alright anC
cried aloud, "Help, hclp!'
At the sound of her voice, another man
a well-built fellow, came to her rescue
exclaiming:
''Let 90 of her, you rascal ]" and deal
such strong blows upon the shoulders @
Bertrand Camusard, that the latte
thought best to go his way without al
guing the matter.
Martha then told her story to the new
conner, who, in his turn, informed he
that his name was Pierre earlier and tina
he was book-keeper in the Office Of th
Western Railway. He did not however
mention the fact OF his having bee
wounded in the face during the war Z
1870, and of his stll bearing frightfr
scar.