Weekly expositor. (Brockway Centre, Mich.) 1882-1894, 1894-02-23

ana asking II she knew or such person.
The woman was only a ledger on tho
fourth stor. and had not long lived there.
She worked IN mattress mandatory lit
tie way off, was out all day, and knewnoth-
ing of her neighbors.
There was no one else in the way to all
swer an inquiry. And, after all what good
could come of any meeting between Kath-
leen and SuZon?
'She hates me, and do not love her."
thought Kathleen. But she is strangely
altered. / thought Rose was right when
she called her creature altogether evil, q
soul given over to wickedness. Yet tonight
her face had a softer look; the unholy fire
seemed TO have gone out of it, as If the face
and the soul had been alike bleached and
chastened by suffering"
The days and weeks wore on, and the
mornings and evenings grew brisk and cold.
That curtain of sultry heat was lifted; the
dome OF white-hot iron was taken off the
city, which no longer seemed like a caul-
dron seething and bubbling over subterran-
can fires. The white vapors of summer
floated away from the streets and quays,
from river and woods and gardens. 1t was
October and the leaves were falling from
the poor remnants of trees in the mutilated
Bots, that lovely wood which had been hewn
down and converted into an dbdttjS. Au-
tumn had come, and Kathleen's work was
still uncompleted, still went on; the worker
patient, secret, dogged, never for one mo-
ment abandoning her purpose, never losing
faith. Not till she had seen every journey
man currier in Paris would she falter or
waver in her work. Then it would be time
10 say, IL have deceived myself; Serizer has
I.fN d.. III
think of following and hunting him down
In the place of his exile, be it far or near,
In the Old World or the New. Sea or land
should be as nothing to her in that search
distance and time as nothing. She felt as
if she were the spirit of vengeance, disem-
bodied soul, free from those letters which
make humanity feeble.
Day after day she went to her task-mo-
notonous, dreary full of WEAKNESS for mind
and body; and yet she knew not WEAKNESS.
That iron purpose within her buOyed her
up and sustained her. The spirit conquered
the flesh.
There were days when she felt Ill, very i'll
sick TO death almost; but she flung her ill
ness aside, as If it had been garment that
embarrassed her movements, and went out
TO her work. Her white face in those days
evoked the pity of strangers.
"A poor creature that ought to be in tho
hospital rather than in the streets" thought
the pasSers-by. Not long for this world"
said one. There Is death in that face"
said another.
Other days there were when all her limbs
seemed one great aching pain; yet she
crawled down the steep old staircase and
into the dim morning streets; and like an
old horse which begins his day stiIly and
feebly, and shuflleS himself into trot I'M
der the goad of the whip, she gathered up
her strength for the journey, and Quickened
her pace as she neared her goal.
Not one day did she miss I'm all those toll
some weeks. Happily there were the Sun
days, blessed intervals of respite and rest,
which gave her new strength for the coming
six days.
On these quiet Sabbaths she rested all day
long, lying on her bed like log, hardly
moving hand or foot, reading little now
and then, but, for the most part resting
only resting-in a state Of apathy, which
was little more than semi-consciousness.
Again and again the Durands urged her
TO 90 out with them on the Sunday, to get
fresh air, change, little innocent gaiety,
few hours of forgetfulness in some pretty
rustic spot. They offered to take her to
Aslieres, to Bougival, to Marty lie Roi.
In vain.
Il have good deal of walking every day."
she said. II like 10 rest-only to rest-on
Sundays"
She did not tell them that the agony Of
WEAKNESS was sometimes so acute tOwards
the close of the week that nothin5 but this
long day of total inertia could have enabled
her to resume the round of toll.
Dat TrsAI,
leen," said Rose, with gentle reproachful-
ness. ''You used to go regularly to the dear
old church yonder," with little motion Of
her head towards Notre Dame.
"Used-yes. But he was alive then, and
went to pray for him. Now-no, could
not kneel and pray in church. Not yet,
not yet. There is cloud of blood that
swims before my eyes when i try to look up
10 heaven"
October was passing. 1t was the middle
| of the month-the 16sh-and still no sign
Of Serizier. Her days work was over, aud
Kathleen was walking slowly, with down
! cast eyes and dropping head, along the Rue
de Galande in the dusk of evening. She
had been watching for more than an hour
In front OF an obscure workshop at the end
| of the street. There was a Belgian name
over the door. She had seen two men leave
/ the house, one workman, the other q man
of somewhat superior appearance, who
/ looked like the master. The workshop was
small, poor-looking; and, according to her
! knowledge of the trade, these two men
would be I'm all likelihood the complete staff.
But she made up her mind to go back next
morning to watch The men going to their
work, and 20 make inquiries as TO the num-
Der employed. She never struck work
I shop off her list until she had made herself
mistress of her facts.
Suddenly, in the autumnal dusk, she look
I'd up startled by the rafting of an empty
Tuck over the rough stones of the roadway.
She looked up, and found herself face TO
lace with man in a ragged blouse, wheel
ng truck.
The man was Serizier.
She had not one moment of doubt; not a
passing shadow of hesitation clouded the
clearness of her mind. This was Serizjer.
She had seen him last in the pomp Of his
warlike accoutrements, plumed hat, clank-
ing sword, and sabretasch, red scarf breast
bedizened with gold embroidery, chin and
lip shrouded by heavy military moustache,
erect audacious, arrogant lording it over
On admiring crowd.
To-day the man was clean-shaved; he
seemed TO have grown smaller as If bent