Santa Fe daily New Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1885-1897, 1894-09-22

my face to hers while she laughed and
cried i'll reciting to me i'll broken words
the prayer of her love, while she spoke
to me as fervent devotees to God,
felt that 1 had given to one human be-
ing the equivalent of a lifetime of hap
piness.
will not tell you how arranged to
obtain the consent of my guardian. l
did not ask that Of my fiancee-I knew
she would pardon me afterward. The
banns were published, and I made all
preparations for regular marriage
During the weeks which followed she
lived in ecstasy. Her malady seemed
relenting. A miraculous beauty seemed
to shine about her like an aureole She
dazzled me; she filled my heart with
sad love, like that of mothers for frail,
beautiful children who cannot live. /
had her placed in special room at the
hospital, where she received the care Of
the best physicians and had sister Of
charity to watch over her night and
day. I passed the greater part of my
time with her. I could not satiate my
self with that adoring gaze, with that
beatitude which each word, each ges.
ture of mine bestowed. How we'll re.
member the twilight hours when I
would sit beside her, watching her pale
face blend tremendously with the shad-
ows, while she murmured to me her
words of love like the verses Of song:
"Better than God Better than the
Virgin! Better than my life and the
life Of the universal"
Thus time flowed by, and the we'd
cling day came. After the civil mar
rage they sat up an altar in her cham
Der and dressed her in rich bridal robes.
She seemed to live in an atmosphere Of
perfect bliss. She was as beautiful as
day in springtime when it draws to-
ward sunset and a misty glory rises
over the hills and lakes and the drowsy
flowers droop their heads in sleep She
lived 20 years in that hour. have but
to close my eyes, and see her again.
Her eyes were so large and bright that
they seemed to efface her pale visage.
A sanity smile played upon her lips.
Her little hands were clasped as she lis.
tened to the voice Of the priest Our
fingers Joined, and she trembled when,
at last, she pronounced the great "Yes,"
for she put in it all her religion, all the
force of her being; then she sank back,
her strength exhausted. But what de.
licious fatigue, what blissful WEAKNESS!
Tenderly she whispered as she dreamed
and drew me near her lips. The muir
derous shadow Of death crept rapidly
onward. Her spirit wandered in the
faroff land of twilight I saw her
cheeks grow leaden hued and her tenn.
pies hollow. She felt not the approach
of death, but continued to love, to be
happy, to forget herself in her dream
divine. Her head was pillowed on my
arm, and watched her dark eyes grow
wider, wider yet Her hair shone upon
the pillow like q mesh Of gold. The
silken bridal robe enveloped her like a
cloud
The sun had set and the daylight
was fading, when she murlnured:
"Thou lowest me, Jacques? Thou low
est the poor girl? Mon Dieu! We will
live long. feel that I cannot die !
cannot die now"
4
Her voice sounds as if she had turned
back at the entrance of that mysterious
land to call to me once more-it is like
bells heard far off upon the sea. Her
body grows cold in its rich winding
sheet, but she no longer suffers. She
repeats:
II cannot die!"
A vague smile hovers over her face,
which always wears that look Of inf.
mite love, OF happiness without a shad.
ow. My heart is still. At that moment
I am all that loves in the world-I am
mother, father, lover. She muir.
murs again:
II love thee We will live in the
countryside violets'--
Her lips part with smile Of ineffa'
BILE joy, and she is at rest forever,
1t is evening, and ! gaze through the
gathering shadows at the outline of the
slender figure in it's bridal robe. My
sorrow is as profound as it is sweet, fol-
feel that much will be pardoned me
because have soothed one poor, loving
little heart and sweetened with happi
ness the bitter cup of death. -Translat
ed From the French Of J. H. Rosny Fol
Once Week.