Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1895-04-18

'But why does the suspieion.-oh. the
terrible, hateful suspicion. the dreadful
facts! Why do they ali arrange them
selves about him?" she persisted.
Alas! Alas! Why indeed do | lire?
Why docs not my tongue cleave to the
roof OF my mouth? 1t is nv son of
whom speak! Oh, we have had mis-
fortune, Etienne, such misfortune.
sat never such misfortune, such
icspair as this
1T is certainly a misfortune to lose
The jewels said Etiennc with calm
ness, the calmness CT unbrolscn faith.
'Thcrc is no other misfortune about il.
We viii take steps for their recovery
But as for BeauZlicux.-it is preposter-
ous. No, no, two and two do not make
three! That white flame of his burns
without dross."
"Ah. | believe you." the poor duch-
ess cried. And what balm you bring
a sore heart! Oh, Etienne, what should
| do without you.''
But when night came, and the
duchess was in her own rooms again.
the horror of doubt and fear overcame
her anew. There was her sons por-
trait as Jean had drawn 1.-THE sweet
seriousness, the lofty gravity, the pierre
ing eye, the tender mouth. The can
die fiickering under it gave it a seem
ing life. She flung herself down be-
fore it as if it were an altar. How,
how, how could l doubt you?" she
cried. And, oh, how can l help it!''
she said, presently. She l1nelt at her
prie-dieu for hours, but felt that help
forsook her. She took the candlesticlS
and went into her sons rooms-bare,
studious rooms, without an ornament
or luxury, only one picture on the
walls, face crowned with thorns "He
gave Himself for the love of man.
Beauxlieux once had said "And can
/ do less?"
AS she went back the enormity of
her own behavior overwhelmed her.
Bet directly afterward she saw her
handkerchief, fallen on the foor-one
of several hs had sent her-knowing
she loved fine, sheer things, and had
used coarse ones so long. She snatched
it and tore it with her teeth; then as
she walked the floor she paused at the
great arnoire where Olympic had put
away the things of his childhood. She
Enclosed it and lifted the little frocl1
She recalled him in it, running to meet
her, his hair flying, his arms extended,
his sweet face OVERLOOKING with smiles.
He had not forgotten how to smile
then. There was the little cap, too:
her own fingers had wrought it for him
before he was born, and what hopes
and what prayers she had wrought into
it! Here was q scarf he had worn at his
first communion; here were the curls,
the sillSen curls Olympic had shorn from
his dear head. She kissed them pas.
sionately; she wet them with her cry.
ing, a mother grieves SO over the
memorials of the dead! She had no
longer child.
1t was the next day that Eeauxlieux
came down from town to the chateau
The duchess did not go to meet him as
usual. She sent for him instead to come
to her She was standing at her dress
ing-table. strewn with the empty jewel
cases, white as alabaster, her long
black gown sweeping round her, her
eyes like those of fate.
Startled by her appearance, he has
tened toyyard her with an exclamation.
But she threw out her arms in an in
tcrposing gesture. Aud then she wa
vered as she stood: and with a stride
he was beside her, and. his arm about
her, he had led her to seat, and
throwing himself on his knees before
her, he drew her face over to his.
"What is it, my mother?" he murmured.
"What ails thee? Art thou i'll? Art
thou suffering? Lean on me, kiss me,
dear, sweet mother"
She withdrew from his clasp and
pushed him off n little, her hand fiat on
his chest. ''Oh." she cried, transfxing
him with her great despairing eyes.
"Oh! how could you, how could you do
it?"
T.srs