The Portland daily press., 1894-08-18


with me remembrance of ST. Rosalie
The storm was past Once more she was
a conventional woman of the world, calm
and impassive. AS she spoke she glanced
up at the priest. He was motionless, as
though carved in stone. Slowly the color
died out of her face as she whispered in
credulously:
"Benedict!''
For supreme moment each looked into
the others face The woman was trem-
bling violently, and her features were lit
with yearning tenderness The priests
lips moved, as though to speak, but no
sound came To him the mention of her
name was sim Had he not spent the best
part of his manhood in penance and pray
er, in trying to forget that beautiful face,
that form, that voice? Was she not yet
satisfied with his sacrifce-with the fact
that, rather than be an impediment to her
brilliant marriage, he had ceased to exist9
Why had she again broken in upon his
hearts solitude? When he spoke, it was
with an effort and in stern tones:
why are you here alone? Where is ST.
Croix?"
'Dead!' was the almost inaudible reply
"Dead!'' he repeated in husky tone,
duulIlS iuVOluuUdflly lu0A you oAO
free?''
He could not look away from her. His
eyes fell on her fashionable attire, her
jeweled fingers, her matured beauty. What
an insuperable gulf lay between them!
To her the bitterness of all things had
come as his cold unsympathetie tones fell
on her ear. While she had suffered he had
forgotten.
II came here" she answered in her
calm, conventional tones, ''for rest and
peace, outside the world, not dreaming
you were here"
She paused.
A momcntary CLEAN touched the man.
Moved by impulse, he closed his fingers
over the small cold hand that grasped the
edge of the quantity carved seat and whis-
pered
IF you had known, what them"
In an instant she noted the change in
the priests voice. After all, he was not
quite dead to the world, and glimmer OF
hope woke in her heart
Then I must still have GOMEZ she re-
piled passionately, raising her eyes to his
face, which was rigid and incredulous.
II am free now and have never known
happiness since we parted. Wealth, posi-
ton, all possess is worthless without you
to share them. Come back to the old
world again, Benedict. You are all care
to live for.'' AS she finished speaking,
carried away by her feelings, she sank at
his feet.
The priests face was scarcely less agi-
tated than her own.
81 cannot I dare not. Do not sin
daily in remembering you? Have not
longed for the sound of your voice, the
touch of your soft hand? Do I not live 8
double life-outwardly priest, inward1y
. man? Can vows, penances and prayers
change a mans nature? Does it not rath
er kill the souls May, you have much te
answer for" AS the last words died upon
his lips he stopped for an instant as though
in pity and touched her forehead. with his
lips. Placing her arms around bis neck
she whispered his name and lowered his
head till their lips met. A moment seem
ed an eternity. Then, thrusting her aside
with cry of anguish, sprang away
and she heard his swi-- footsteps pass
across the graveyard path.
| A few days later Sir Alec Vavasour re
| ceived a note at his club which bore the
| Paris postmark, and he was missing from
the social whirlpool for a week, announc
ing on his return his engagement to Mrs
St. Croix. He declared he had met her il
Paris, looking positively wretched after
her travels, and had strongly advised hel
to remain there for few weeks to dissi
pate the ennui she had endured among the
Rhenish mountains and to regain her gooo
looks before their wedding day.-Roy
Compton in Sketch.