Waterbury evening Democrat., 1893-12-23
CHAPTER XVIII.
RETRIRUTION.

| 1t not for the question of the murder, which still remained to be cleared up. Their previous bad character, as Macaire expected, caused suspicion to turn on them, and it was decided that they should be detained at Les Bons Amis till the following day, in order to allow of the matter being further investigated. They were accordingly placed in small loft over the stable and a guard of armed men stationed at the door.
 Clementine had been with difficulty restored to consciousness after the terri ble shock she had received at the sight of her fathers body and knew nothing as yet of the scene which had taken place in the salle or the strange discovery of Charles percentage. He was now sitting with her, endeavoring to soothe her grief. while she little suspected that his own was so much more bitter. She had lost father, 1t is true, and by a terrible death, but he had died respected and be- loved by all, while he--he had found a mother, it is true, but under what cir cumstances? He did not for moment believe her guilty of the terrible charge brought against her. But unless it could be positively disproved, how could he ask tO bG(OtIlt HIS "1le "Il11E SUCH stigma was on his mother'sname? Too many people had heard what had passed to allow of its remaining a secret.
 The poor young mans thoughts were very sad indeed as he sat holding his fiancee's hand.
 Charles had begged so hard of Roger not to treat his mother with the same rigor as had been shown to Macaire and IT | house; that the brigadier, who under his official crust was soft hearted enough, had consented to this arrangement, though. as he said, he was exceeding his duty and might get into trouble by it.
 Do not fear, sir" said Marie II have no wish to go now that I have found my son. Besides," she added, II am innocent of this crime, and God, who knows it, will prove it.
 Her first anxiety when she recovered consciousness was whether in her sur prise she had disclosed the fact that Macaire was her husband and Charles father, and it was a great relief to her to perceive that he had not the least sus- picion of such a thing. nor had M Du- mont, who had no idea that she had a claim to any other name than that of Beaumont. He had heard the missing woman whom he supposed to be the mother of the little waif spoken of by that name, as among the country folks married women were as often called bv their maiden names as by their hus- bands, and he concluded that the "worthless fellow" the 'coquin" he had heard mentioned, bore the name of Beau mont.
 Macaire had had no time to speak, and no one would have listened to him had he attempted to do so. And poor Marie hoped that she might be able to spare her son such terrible blow as this knowledge would be. She determined, however. to tell all to NJ. Dumont. who she considered had a right to know. and who she felt sure would help her to keep this great disgrace from falling on the boy he loved and had so long treated as his son.
 Seated in the room where only few hours before the joyous party had as sembled to sign the wedding contract, she told him all-all that we know al- ready of her early history up to the time when he found the child where she had placed it, at the foot of the shrine She told him, too, her sad after history, full of misery and suffering.
 She had watched him take the child and had listened till the last echo of his horses hoofs had died away Then sine had set out again and with much toll and suffering had dragged herself back to the house which she had left She had accomplished her object. The child was saved from the stigma of being born in prison, the offspring of a felon, and her great desire now was that her friend ly guardian should not suffer on her ac- count. It would be ruin to him if it were found that his laxness had led to her escape. So. at all costs. she must re- turn. Once there. shc cared not how soon she died. Death indeed would be a welcome deliverance from her misery. But death does not always come to those who long for it.
 Her absence had been discovered, and men had been sent in different directions to look for her, though indeed tho ser- gcant himself was half sorry to sec her return. His wife did all she could for the poor creature, who was in pitiablo condition, worn out with anguish both of soul and body. Of course her hostess discovered what had happened, but Marie refused to give any account of what had befallen the infant to which she had given birth except that it was ill place of safety. The worthy couple 1 decided to keep their own counsel on the | subject. An inquiry into the matter | would only have brought on her the -sus- picion of having made away with her | infant, and things were bad enough for | her as it waS-and they were sorry for her, poor soul!
 | It was some days before she was in a state to be moved. She was then taken | to Grenoble to be tried for stealing her l fathers money.
 There fresh horror awaited her. Her husband, on making his escape, had directed his steps back to Charmont- sur-Pont, in pursuance of a plan he had matured while following the wagon.
 He knew that the old man had a large sum of money in the house besides that ! which Marie had been accused of steal ing. Of this he determined to get pos | session.
 He had no fear about returning to the farm-in fact, he thought he would be safer there than anywhere else, as it would be the last place where they would think of seeking him, and as the money was all in gold there would be no dan- ger of its leading to his detection.
 Under cover of the darkness he made his way safely back to the farm and had lurked round until all was quiet. His knowledge of the house had enabled him to effect an entrance without any difficulty.
 He had found the old man busy count ing his money and putting it into bags ready for some hiding place, had come behind, stunned him, or, as it turned out, l-ilInd him, 1..itI, bIn,,- tkn l,ood A-n.,,