The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1901-01-30
CHAPTER XVIII.
A GLIMPSE OF LOVE.

That morning of the eighth day of
January was one of awful suspense to
the patriotic women of New Orleans.
Everything that could make life worth
living depended upon the issue OF the
fight whose heavy pillows of sound
came rolling mp the river to shake the
foundation of the city.
Madame Souvestre, as she stood at
the window of the chamber in which
Fairfax lay, held one hand upon her
heart. She felt it leaping heavily with
mingled dread and JOY. Each throb
was for the brave men battling down
there in the fog of morning, and each
throb was also for the handsome SOL
dier living within four PAGES of her,
weak and wounded, in her sole care.
The window-panes Jared with every
palpitation OF the battle-thunder. She
turned now and again to look at Fair
fax.
"Do not try to move," she would
say; "it will hurt you. Be brave and
patient; it will come out we'll"
Then she would go and smooth his
pillows or adjust the snowy spread of
his couch. Her tiny hands trembled,
and q bright rosy spot showed under
the petal-like skin of either cheek.
He tried to talk to her about the
battle, but she put one sweet hand
over his mouth and shook her head.
"Listen and be calm, but. do not
speak," she commanded; and he had
to obey.
Monsieur Crapaud Crapoussin will
return after a while," she went on,
"and he will tell US glorious news. I
know that our brave men are killing
those British; I feel it in every drop
of my blood. Hear how our guns
crash and ROLL"
She clasped her hands before her
and stood in an attitude of intense,
passionate attention to the tumbling
and bounding din as it seemed to fill
all space by jars and throbs.
Fairfax gazed at her through the
shadows of the chamber, and, to his
feverish and misty imagination, she
appeared to irradiate heavenly light,
80 that a pale, tender aureole trem-
bled about her. A peaceful languor
seized him, and he slept.
The streets we're deserted and silent,
and as the fog grew tenuous and van
ished before the coming of the sun,
the cannon roar seemed more distant.
Madame Souvestre wandered around
in the chamber, moving noiselessly,
covering her face now and again with
her hands.
Slowly the moments passed. She
looked at her ieweled watch; it was
nine o'clock, AMI the guns had almost
ceased their thunder. Fairfax was
breathing heavily, but his SLEEP
seemed natural. She bent over him
and touched his hair with furtive
tender movement. How could he fee
so light stroke on his loosely tumbled
locks?
"Ah, Pauline; you have come to me
again! How kind, how SWEET he
murmured. "And the battle is over,
and we shall not be parted any moren
The little woman drew back from
the sleeper and turned pale; then 6
hot glow suffased her cheeks. She
trembled and held her brow with both
hands.
"Pauline! Paaline" she whispered
"He loves some one-Pauline! Paul
inc! But it may be his sister. Yes,
yes, his voice was so gentle and calm;
! Pauline is his sister"
Once more she cast herself upon the
priedieu and lifted prayerful eyes.
A black woman, with spotless
white turban on her head, came in,
! carrying a silver tray with coffee,
which she placed on the table. She
glanced asEance at Madam Souvestre,
and then silently withdrew.
The rich brew in the shining pot
filed the room with its fragrance.
A plump-faced masculine saint looked
down from dark frame on the wall