Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1895-03-07

and had a sister of charity to watch
over her night and day. l passed the
greater part of my time with her. l
cJuld not Satiate myself with that
adOring gaze, With that beatitude
which each word, each gesture of
mire bestowed. How we'll l remember
the twilight hours when 1 would sit
beside her, watching her pale face
blend tremendously with the shadows,
while she murmured to me her words
of love like the verses of a N
Better than God. Better than the
Virgin! Better than my life and the
life of the uniyerSer.'
Thus time flowed by. and the we'd
ding day came. After the civil mar
rage they set UP an altar in her
chamber and dressed her in rich
bridal robes. She seemed to live in
an atmosphere of perfect bliss. She
was as beautiful as 4 day in spring
time when it draws toward sunset.
and a misty glory rises over the hills
and lakes and the drowSy flowers
droop their heads in sleep. She lived
twenty years in that hour. | have but
to close my eyes, and l see her again.
Her eyes We're s. large and bright
that they seemed to eface her pale
visage. A SANITY smile played upon
her lips. Her little hands were clasped
as she listened 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 ex-
hausted. But what delicious fatigue,
what bliSSful WEAKNESS. Tenderly she
whispered as she dreamed and drew
me to her lips. The murderous shadow
of death crept rapidly onward. Her
spirit wandered in the far off land Of
twilight. l saw her cheeks grow
leaden hued and her templ-s 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 a mesh of gold.
The silken bridal robe enveloped her
like a cloud.
The sun had set, and the daylight
was fading, when she murmured:
''HhOu lowest me, Jacques? Thou
lowest the poor girl? Mon Dieu! We
will live long. 1 feel that [ cannot
die. l cannot die now"
y * y = #
Her voice sounded 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 ca. Her body grows cold in
its rich winding sheet, but she no
longer suffers. She repeats:
Il 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 mo-
ment [ ann all that loves in the
world am a mother, a father, a
lover. She murmurs again:
Il love thee. We will live in the
country-tha violets-'
Her lips part with a smile of in
effable joy, and she is at rest forever.
1t is evening, and l 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, for | feel much will be pardon
ed me because I have SoOthed n
poor, loving little heart, and sWeeten-
ed with happiness the bitter cup of
death.-Translated from the French of
J. II. Rosney, for Once a Week.