Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1892-03-04

shares to propitiate the gods-gifts unto
the needy, ehl thousandfold-whatT'
"Yes; it might be done. Belgard,
if'-
But some one just then proposed the
toast Of "The Rose Tree mine" and the
souls Of these men waxed proud and
merry, for they had seen the investors
palm filed with gold, the maker of con-
quest. While Antoine was singing with
his wife they were holding revel within
the sound of Bow Bells. And far into
the night, through silent Cheapside, a
rolling voice swelled through much
laughter thus:
Cal Ion Ia. gai 10 roster
Du joli mols dc mai.
The next day there We're heavy heads
in London; but tho next day also man
lay i'll in the hut on Saint Jean.
Antoine had sung his last song. He
had walked in the night with n start Of
pain. and by the time the sun was halt.
ing at noon above the Rose Tree mine
he had begun Il journey the record Of
which no man has ever truly told,
neither its beginning nor its end; be-
cause that which is of the spirit refuseth
to be interpreted by the flesh. Some
signs there be. but they are brief and
shadowy; the awe of ii is hidden in the
mind of him that goeth out lonely unto
God.
When the call goes forth, not wife nor
child nor any other con hold the way
farer back. though he may loiter for an
instant on the brink. Tho poor medica-
ments which Angelique brings avail not;
these soothing hands and healing tones,
they pass through clouds Of the middle
place between heaven and earth to An
tome. 1t is only when the second mid
night comes that, with conscious but
pensive and far off eyes, he says to her,
"Angelique, my wife"
For reply her lips press his cheek and
her fingers hunger for his neck. Then,
"Is there pain now, Antoine:'
"There is no pain, Angelique."
He closed his eyes slowly: her lips
fran ii an Ave.
"1'}e mine" he said, "the mine-un-
I'll ia" spring"
"lr3. Antoine. until the spring"
"Egve you candles-many candles,
Ang ique:"
There arc many, my husband
"Iae ground is as iron: one cannot
dig. and the water under the ice Ia cruel
lis i, not so, Angeliquc?
IN ax could break the ground. and
the water is cruel
"Ycu will see my face until the win
ter is gone, my wife"
She bowed her head, but smoothed his
hand meanwhile.
He partly slept; his body slept, though
his mind was feeling its way to wonder
ful things. But near the morning his
eyes opened wide and he said, "Some
one calls ont of the dark, Angelique."
And she with her hand Oh her heart
replied, 1t is the cry Of a dog, An
tome"
"But there are footsteps at the door,
my wife"
"Nay, Antoine; it is the SNOW beating
upon the window"
There is the sound of wings close by;
dost thou not hear them, AugeliqueI'
"Wings-win2s," she falteringly said
at is the hot blast through the chimney;
tho night is cold. Antoine.
"The night is very cold" Inc said, and
he trembled. Il hear. o my wife, tho
voice of a little child; the voice is like
to thine, Angel!que."
And she, not knowing what to reply,
said softly. There is hope in the voice
of a child" and the mother stirred with
in her; and in the moment be knew also
that tho spiritS xynu1l uiva lar thu child
in safety. that she should not be alone
in the long winter.
The sounds of the harsh night had
ceased-the swapping of TIE leafess
branches, the cracking of the earth and
the heaving of Il rock; the spirits of the
frost had finished their work, and Just
as the gray forehead of dawn appeared
beyond tho cold hills Antoine cried out
gently: "Angelique. All, mon Capi-
taine. Jesu." and then. no more.
In the early spring, when the earth
painfully breathed away the frost that
choked it, with her child for mourner
and herself for sexton and priest, she
buried Antoine with manned rites; but
hers were the prayers Of the poor and of
the pure in heart. and she did not fret
because in the hour that her comrade
was put away into the dark the world
was laughing at the thought of coming
summer.
Before another sunrise came the own
ers Of the island of Saint Jean came TO
claim what was theirs, and because that
which had happened worked upon their
hearts. they called the child Saint Jean.