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

that awful silence; only the rhythmicat
tread of the soldiers, the hollow rumble OF
gun-carriages In the dambness of broken
hearted city,. city reeking with blood new
ly shed, the martyr was carried to his tomb
In the great cathedral-last stage OF q jour
ney that had known so many dismal halt
ing-placcs-from prison TO prison, and then
to the common grave at Pere Lachaise, from
there to the bed Of state in the archleplsco-
pal palace, and now to the final resting
place among the historic dead.
In the Rue Git lie Coeur life had resumed
its wonted way, save for one empty place.
Rose was again astir, the careful manager,
the attentive wife, nursing her baby, busy
with her domestic work, cleaning, cooking,
keeping the little apartment as neat and
bright as palace. There were flowers on
the wind0w-sill again, a bunch OF flowers
on the table at which Philip wrote or read,
a bouquet OF lilies of the valley, pure, spot
less, telling no tale Of ruined city. hui
INFLATED and impoverished nation. Within,
by the domestic hearth all was peace.
Philips arm was slowly mending. Ho was
able even 10 work little at the famous
carved sideboard in his workshop, or 10
bring one of the panels into his wife's sit
ting-room, To sit there by the open window.
chiseling group of fruit, bird or fish, and
whistling softly to himself as he worked,
whiiI Rose sat in her rocking chair Groom
ing to her sleeping babe.
And Kathleen, the widowed, the heart
broken, what was her life in these days Of
restored peace? She was very quiet. She
bore her sorrow with silent resignation
which W as more Eathetcthan loud wailings
or passionate tears. Bat Rose would have
liked better to see her weep more That
bloodless face, those fixed and hollow eyes,
that slow and heavy step-the step which
had once been so light and swift upon the
stair-those long intervals of silence and
apathy, were not these the indications Of a
broken heart?
Rose Durand did all in her power to COM
fort the mourner She tried 10 persuade her
sister to surrender the apartment on the up
per story, and TO occupy little room OF
Philips workshop; a mere closet; but Rose
could furnish it, and make ii a pretty nest
for her darling; and then Kathleen would
be her child again, always under her watch
full care. She would share all their meals,
live with them altogether; and the company
of the little one, who showed himself full OF
intelligence, would soothe and amuse her.
You are very good, DEAR" answered
Kathleen meekly, when this scheme was
pressed upon her; Won end Philip have
been all goodness TO me. But like 10 live
alone, just now. am not nc company for
any one. And again, if-if--" with pro-
found sigh, "if--he should come back, and
fine his rooms altered, his books disturbed
lit would seem as if had not really loved
him."
Rose was silent. Till this moment she
had supposed that Kathleen was absolutely
convinced of her husbands death, that the
black gown she wore was the sign OF hope
less widowhood; but these words told Of
lingering hope, and after this Rose no long
er urged her sister to give up the apartment.
10 was better she should go on hoping until
the thin thread Of hope wore out, than that
she should sink all at once into the gulf OF
an absolute despair Better, too, that she
should have the daily occupation OF aITang-
ing her rooms, busting Gaston's books,
opening volume now and then and look
ing at page, as If it held his own verbs.
There were pages of Musset's poetry which
seemed TO speak TO her with her husbands
voice, SO often had lie read the lines to her
in their brief married life. She knew all
his books, and knew the measure Of his love
for each.
Every morning she put n little bunch Of
flowers on his wrting-table by the window.
And yet in her heart Of hearts she was con-
vincad that he was dead, and that il was his
blood she had seen staining the dusty ground
In the street OFF the Avenue d'Italie. And
then when this work Of busting, polishing,
and arranging everything was done, work
over which she fingered lovingly, she would
put on her little black bOnnet with thick
Grape veil over her face, and go cut and
wander about the streets and the quays, and
loiter on the bridges, hearing all that could
be heard OF the public news. People re-
spected that black gown and bonnet, and
the thick mourning veil. She was reeog-
nlzed as one Of the many mournsrs whs had
been loft behind after that awful tide Of
blood and FIRE had rolled over Paris. Lone.
ly as she was, young, boauttful, no one mo-
Tested her. She went from place to place,
secure ~ tho majesty of her dss0lation.
TO BE CONTINUED.