The Press., 1891-09-03
CHAPTER VII.
"Oh, MGr Schclii1Lg!"

Poor Maisie was dead, and shortly lay at rest within her tomb, done with hfe's joys and sorrows, tormented no more by love or jealousy: but Eugenie, though her friends had mourned her as one lost to them for hours, had lived to endure a woe greater, it seemed to her at first. than she could bear.
 The old physician in attendance ex-
 snained morsel of candy they found in her pocket and pronounced it poison.
 Happily an experience that he had had in early youth in the West Indies, when jealous negress poisoned her rival, gave him unusual knowledge of the drug,
 which had diminished the action of the heart, so that her pulse was almost inn perceptible, and taught him what to do to save her.
 Eugenie lay for a long time senseless,
 motionless. her sweet face terribly dis torted, but she had youth and fine con- stitution, and she had taken very little of the poison.
 Slowly she grew well, her strength re- turned, her grace, her beauty, and she could speak as sweetly as ever, but her singing voice was gone, gone never to return. None knew it so well as she, ! and with it vanished all her hopes of fame, of doing great things for those at home The dream of her life was over despair seized her soul, for while she longed to die.
 For little while, knowing nothing of l Maisie's death, and understanding that the poison had been given her in the candy Maisie had placed between her lips in church, it was hard for her not to hate her; but even then she sought no revenge, and swore to herself never to tell where she got the little green sugar plum, and she prayed without ceasing, Forgive us our l trespasses as we forgive those who tres pass against us." '"For jealousy is mad ness, no doubt" she said; ''it masters one as love does," and at last she was 1 able to forgive Maisie, and to read the letters from home and from Herr Schel- ling calmly, and to think of how the great blank in her life might be filled. She had been to church for the first l time, and had been received by her | friends as one raised from the dead, and
 was going home happier than she had ever hoped to be when carriage drew up to the curbstone and stopped near her.
 ''If you please, miss" called the coach man, and Eugenie, to her astonishment, saw Mrs. Bunny in a black veil at the 1 window beckoning to her. "Oh, my dearv' said this good woman.
 ''To think of meeting you! You are quite we'll again? 'Ow-' -'appy your aunt must be. A little thin, but you look
 lovely. I've been to plant 8 few flowers on Maisie's grave"
 ''On Maisie's grave?" repeated Eugenie as in dream. ''Maisiel You do not mean that Maisie is dead?'
 ssDid you not know it? They've kept it from you because you were ill," said
 Mrs. Bunny. i've agitated you. Come in and sit by me-" Eugenie obeyed. Mrs. Bunny continued amid her sobs and the great tears that rolled rapidly 1 down her cheeks: "Yes, our little Maisie is gone, and MT. Bunny is quite broken
 'arted and cry all day. She was not a fine figure, like you, but she was so good, such good girl was our Maisie. Never 1 wicked thought or an angry one. So loving and so kind; like daughter to US But you know you loved Maisie and she loved you. You can sympathize." She took Eugenie's hand and patted it softly. Eugenie, pale and trembling, leaned back ! unOn the cI1shiOnS