The Portland daily press., 1894-08-18
BENEDICT.

1t was ripe autumn in Rhenish vii
lage. The sun, slowly sinking into it's
bed, tinged all nature with the radiance of
its departing glory. Mountains of irregu-
lar height, capped by forests of trees, stood
out in bold relief against the red dyed sky,
and numbers Of small graystone winners
cottages nestled amid the luxuriant foliage
on the slopes of the hills Beneath all was
the Rhine, sweeping silently through the
valley below till, falling over cluster Of
rocks, it was transformed into cataract,
the roar of whose waters broke in upon
the stiffness Of eventide and mingled with
the lowing of the various herds being
driven back to their farms
Against the doorway of one of the small
cottages leaned a woman, shading her
eyes from the radiant afterglow with a
small, elegantly shaped hand-a woman
whose youth was already past, but whose
Ielicate, refined features still retained the
charm of earlier years. She was singular
ly attractive. Masses of dead gold hair
covered her shapely head. Her eyes were
large and dusky brown, and she looked
from beneath their dark fringes with
slow, languid gaze A soft silk of somber
hue enveloped her lissom figure and
trailed on the grass at her feet. Among
the winners she was known as la Belle
Anglaise," of whose beauty and proud,
cold manner they stood somewhat in awe.
She had come among them at the com
mencement of the summer, and furnish.
ing one of the little cottages to suit her re-
quirements lived there, in comparative
seclusion, with an old servant, who ac-
companied her. She sighed, half impa-
tiently, half sadly as she sat down to rest
ON the little carved seat in the porch. AS
she did so the mournful notes of funeral
hymn, borne onward by the breeze, fell
upon her ear in fitful cadence.
A group of peasants carrying in their
midst a tiny coffin, covered with masses
of white flowers, was slowly approaching,
preceded by priest accompanied by three
acolytes, who carried a silver crucifiX, and
as they chanted swung censor to and
fro, leaving delicate odor in the Cypress
i've air. Moved by some sudden caprice,
she gathered her drapery into her hand
and followed the sad recession, winding
along the road, till through an avenue of
foliage ON the summit of a hill the ruined
chapel of st. Rosalie came in sight. En-
route they encountered Jacques, the post
boy, and the lady fingered till the lad,
having satisfied his religious scruples by
falling on his knees while the procession
passed, delivered to her couple of letters.
The slow bell for the souls of the departed
had ceased ringing and the ser .ce had
begun when she reached the little grave.
Fearing to disturb the mourners she pass
ed to the east end of the ruined chapel,
and lifting the latch of the crazy little
gate, which creaked rustily upon its hinges,
found herself in the chapel. Near the door
hung a painting of the Holy Mother, stain
ed and disfgured with damp and age.
Some passing breeze had carried with it q
few seeds from a passion flower, which,
falling between the broken stones that
paved the chapel, had sprung up and now
outlined the rugged cross with it's rich
purple blossoms Part of the chapel was
unroofed but reverent piety kept the roof
over the crucifix and altar intact Seat
ing herself in one of the ancient pews anG.
drawing small silver dagger attached to
her chatelaine, she proceeded to open the
letters. Inside the first was small note,
surmounted by a coronet, and a purely
conventional smile parted her lips as she
glanced at the writing. 1t ran as follows:
CARLTON CLUB.
DEAR FRIEND-Where have you hid
den yourself and why? Mayfair is lost in
amazement that the London season should
find the beautiful Mrs St. Croix absent,
her enchanted palace shut up. Have you
gone in search of your ideal? If the search
fail, dare hope? Yours always
''ALEC VAvAsoUR.
The other note was written on mauve
scented paper and was purely feminine:
''STRATFoRD PLACE, w.
DEAREST MAY-Really you are an
enigma. Sir Alec Vavasour, who is now
in town, haunts my house, and 1t requires
all my ingenuity to parry his inquiries re-
garding your retreat. hope you are happy
there. He certainly is not. Come back
soon, for my sympathy now is all for him.
You have beauty, wealth, fame, and now
title lies at your feet Most incompre-
hensible of women! What more can your
heart desire? inclose note under pro-
test. Always, dearest, yours,
HELENE"
Mrs. ST. Croix tore up the first note with
impatient gesture. The second she read
again. Beauty, wealth and fame What
had they brought her? Had they staid
for an hour the passionate cry of her
heart, the maddening longing for an old
love? The letter fell from her fingers as
she clasped them over her face Present
sounds faded away. The solemn tones of
the final benediction which hoated in from
the churchyard changed to the passionate
pleading of man. The silence seemed to
intensity his anguish-his eternal fare
we'll The scent of roses that climbed
round the ruined easements turned to the
odor Of frankincense and myrrh. The dy-
ing rays of sunlight were as myriads OF
lighted tapers, the chapel a massive cathe
dral. Through the silence rang out in the
clear notes of young man S voice the sol
emn vows of obedience chastity and pow
erty, even unto death. She rose and paced
in anguish the silent aisle. Can anything
be more remorseless than memory, which
awakens in every moment of our solitude
living witness to our soul s undyingness?
AS she grew calmer she approached the
purple outlined cross and gathered a flow
er from its stalk
Dissertation, madamp'
A quick breath escaped Mrs St. Croix's
parted lips as the tones of the priest, who,
unperceived had observed the action, fell
upon her ear.
81 crave pardon, father. l did not mean