The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1891-04-22


was like an age, and yet, so paradoxical
are the moods of misery, time seemed to
be flying all too fast. Ten minutes more
and her lover would appear; for il never
entered her mind to doubt that he would
come.
Remembering but too wildly the fate of
the other plotters against Ulloa, she real
lied perfectly the certain doom that
awaited Delpit the moment he should put
his reckless plan into execution, and
wildly, almost madly, she strained her i'm
aginatlon 10 conceive some means OF rescue
or prevention.
Scarcely knowing what she meant to
say or do, she fastened toward 0'Reilly;
but he appeared not to notice her and
walked away, his countenance masked
with an expression that baffled and terri
fed her aud yet drew her on.
As she passed the officers they looked
curiously at her, as il some sudden inter-
est had attached itself to her; but they,
too, avoided her.
AS is sometimes the case with persons
subjected to great pressure of dread,
there came to Mdlle. Faurie on the mo-
ment the stimulus of desperation, that,
like some powerful drug, strengthened as
If by magic every source of her bodily and
mental energy.
If Delpit came, she would meet him
calmly, as If he were a guest arriving late /;
she would dance with him, il possible,
and if she would have to die, she would
die with him.
The thought and resolve. strange 10 say,
brought her back to her composure, and
afforded her a comfort that made her face
glow, while her eyes, as the old diary ex-
presses ii, burned with splendid radiance
remarked by all the company, so enhanc-
ing her exquisite beauty and loneliness
that she looked like a very angel of light
as she moved about strangely silent and
smiling"
ORelly regarded her furtively from a
distance; his eyes, usually cold and steady,
flashing now and again a most intense
feeling.
There was a suppressed but significant
start, a Rustic throughout the assembly,
as, promptly as the moment of midnight.
| Emil Delpit entered the hall.
A hush followed and the hooking
| birds, singing their night songs in the
orange trees hard by, were plainly heard.
| Surely those tender phrases as they
| rippled through the open windows, had
| something incomparably significant in
them, for they seemed to he rendered in
perfect accord with the understanding Of
J the occasion.
O'Reilly and Delpit met near the middle
OF the spacious hall. All eyes were upon
| them. They bowed low and exchanged
some words not heard by others, and then
| Delpit passed on, looling about, eagerly
| though calmly enough. for Mdlle.
| Hortense, who had seen him the moment
| he came in and was vain V trying to move
| toward him.
Despite all her courageous efforts she
stood like a statue, powerless, almost
| breathless, her heart rising to- her throat
and a deadly palor overspreading her
face. So soon as Delpit saw her he sprang
toward her, for he knew at a glance that
! she was suffering. He reac he'd her too
late. With great cry, and flinging her
arms above her head, says the diary.
''she fell backward and lay as one dead"
Delpit reached her first and lifted her
| tenderiy to his arms.
"Bring a physician he cried, his
voice ringing out with peremptory COM
mand.
Two physicians CHANGED to be present
| and by their orders Mdle. Faurie
was borne to couch. The rooms were
soon cleared, for it was announced that
! the young lady had ruptured a blood
vessel; so the reception was at an end
and the unconscious cause of the sud-
den termination lay white as a corpse.
unable TO bear removal from O'ReilIy's
| house.
DAYS and even weeks passed before
| Mdlle. Faurie regained herself suf-
| ficiently to know where she was or
what had happened to her. Meantime
| her lover lay in prison, for he had been
arrested promptly and put in chains.
! O'Reilly had shown no sentiment IN the
matter, but as soon as the company had
| departed and while the young man was
still bending over Mdlle. Faurie
and holding her cold hand an officer with
| two soldiers seized him and took him
away.
The affair caused profound sensation
| in New Orleans, particularly among the
French population but there was scarcely
anything said about it in public. The
| people were used to romantic and thrilling
experiences, and they were too deeply i'm
pressed with the merciless power of
| O'Reilly to show any disposition to NEEDLE
| with his administration, or to risk any,
| even the slightest, movement in behalf of
| Delpit.
Quietly, almost secretly, the young man
was tried and condemned to death.
1t was on the day set for his execution
! that the physicians informed O'Reilly that
| Mdile. Faurie's case was hopeless. Up
| to this time they had answered his con-
slant inquiries with encouraging words;
| but now they frankly stated that nothing
short of an almost miraculous turn could
| save her.
"She asks to see you at once" said one
OF them, land L beg you to 60.
The firm face of the commaudant
changed expression, and he walked back
and forth for while in silence. He had
not seen Mdlle. Faurie since the night
when she was borne senseiess from the
hall.
''What does she want?" he demanded,
turning and confronting the doctor.
81 do not know she is very weak, and
simply asks to see you"
O'Reilly motioned to the physician TO
leave him, and then continued to stalk to
and iro, his eyes bent upon the floor. His
countenance did not betray what thoughts
might be in his mind.
Presently he lifted his head, as if some
sudden resolve had been made, and forth
with sought the room where Mdlle. Faurie
lay like pale, dying flower. Her mother
sat by her bedside and a maidservant
stood near. A window was open, through
which the fragrance of roses and the gay
| twittering of birds came in on q gentle,
balmy swell OF air.
O'Reilly bowed to Nine. Faurie and
went directly to the bedside. The poor
60 10