Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-12-16

ueeS lp lcI ILIlS 41ldllcI prevent NOuA riage."
 "Heaven grant it may be so," said | Charles.
 As he spoke the sound of approach | ing wheels was heard, and NJ. Germenirs carriole drove up to the gate. Charles ran forward to meet it, followed by NJ. Dumont. He helped his financee to de- scend and stood beside her while Pierre, Francois, Louis and the rest, who had run ] out on the sound of the wheels, lifted down the numerous parcels which filled the carriole, and which, from the interest | Clementine took in their safety, evident | ly contained her wedding finery. The parcels safely landed, the servants car i ried them into the house, and the young ! people rejoined their elders, who had walked toward the house, Germenil say ing:
 You did not expect us so early, l dare say, mon ami, but Ciementine was so impatient only wonder she did not in sist on starting in the middle of the night so as to arrive in good time"
 Well, well, neighbor, we were once | young ourselves, and we know how much young folks have to say to one another i on these occasions"
 Do you know think the little mare | Cocotte was as impatient as her mistress to get here? She came along at such pace one would have thought she knew she was coming to a fete.' By this the parcels had all been un- loaded to Clementines satisfaction, and she and Charles came forward. Well" said Germenil, now that i'm | portant business is done, perhaps you would give kiss to your future father in-law?'
 With all my heart" said Clementine, throwing her arms round M. Dumonts ! neck and giving him a hearty kiss on each cheek.
 And you, Charles added the farmer, are you so bashful that you wait for permission to kiss your bride:"
 Charles, who had for a moment forgot ten his melancholy, started at these words, and his face became again over | cast as he replied:
 ''To be Clementine's husband, NJ. Ger menil, is what my heart most longs for, and if 1 refrain from greeting her as my bride it is because honor forbids my do- ing so till you have heard what my fa- ther has to tell you. When you have listened to him, you will then be in po- ] sition to decide whether you still con i sider me. worthy of such happiness and | honor
 What does the boy mean:" cried Ger menil amazed. while Clementine. her blue eyes full of dismay, calculated, 'Cielr'
 Il will explain it all" said M Dumont. Meanwhile you, Charles, can take | Clementine indoors and show her what ! we have been doing in her honor"
 That means" said Clementine, mak- | ing little moue, that I am not to | hear
 Never mind, my dear; later you will | know all"
 Well" cried NJ. Germenil as soon as | they were alone, what Is this mighty secret which weighs so on Charles mind and makes him pull so long a face:'
 He has reason to look sad, my friend" replied Dumont. What I am now about to reveal to you may rob him of all the happiness of his future life"
 'Parbleu! you alarm me" exclaimed | Germenil. What is this mystery? Ex- | plain!''
 Learn, then" said Dumont in a voice | of deep emotion, what no living Crea- lure knows save ourselves, but what can no longer conceal from you-learn, my friend. that Charles is not my son." | Charles is -not-your - son!' re peated Germenil, while intense amaze ment took possession of every feature. My son in everything save in the tie of blood; but that, alas! is wanting"
 "But-but." said Germenil, II don't | quite understand how
 T will tell you the story from the be ginning. That will be the best and sim | plest way" said Dumont. interrupting him.
 They seated themselves on one of the benches under the Hines. and leaning his head on one hand M. Dumont began his story, to the accompaniment of merry laughter and the sounds of cheerful voices. which foated toward them from the open doors and windows of the au- bergc.
 You know already" he began, "the circumstances under which l lost my wife-now some 20 years ago-so there is no need to go over all that. Shortly after her death I left the place, taking the child with me. and went to Grenoble. where had relative with whom in tended to stay a short time and in whose (st1G l4IOuSAl O1 ltSAN III lllS lIllit Nl4N until it was few months old and bet ter able to bear the fatigue of q journey as it was but fragile little creature owing to its premature birth. But an other sorrow was ill store for me. Very soon after my arrival &t Grenoble the child died, and I found myself alone without either wife or son. I left Grenoblo on my way home.
 1, T day after had started I was going along rather unfrequented road, when came to a wayside shrine. I had paused op- posite it for a moment to say prayer, when I thought I heard a faint cry. Looking down perceiveda small bundle lying at the foot of the shrine. alightel from my horse and examined it, when what was my amazement to find it con- tained a newborn infant wrapped in a shawl such as the country women wear in those parts.
 II looked around, but could find nc trace of any one. The little creature seemed to have been abandoned there and as I looked at it the thought came into my mind that heaven had sent it thus to replace the one had lost and fill the void in my heart. So said tc myself that would take the child and bring it up as my own. You may be sure no one put in a claim to it, so re stunned my homeward journey with my little charge, and from that day to this the secret has been buried in my own heart till I told it to the boy himself last night"
 But did you make no inquiries as tc whom the mother was?" asked Germenil s@ sss Y<SK