Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1901-07-04

been spared no indignity, and the
most cruel and Notifying thing of
all vas when he would shout at her
in voice made raucous by liquor !:
You'll be just like Jour motherl'
Poor mother! What wrong had
she done, what crime had she con-
mitted, that on every possible oe-
easion this man should hold her MP
81 contempt? Francine remem-
1sssl her on = : lon4 snfrernR,
good wcman, who heaped caresses
upon her and who after putting
her to bed every night tenderly
kissed her on the brow. The
daughters love had grown stronger
since they spoke of her at the farm
IN contemptuous tones? Why? She
did not know-how could she, being
bat twelve years old-the story that
was told at Donaize of how her
mother had one evening entered the
village, in a starving condition,
With rags on her back, and her eyes
blazing like live Goals The count
des Voziers, the good angel of the
place, had taken her in and some
months later the wretched outcas!
had been driven off the premises in
disgrace. NJ. des Voziers had given
further evidence of his charity by
allowing her to take up her quar-
ters in an old decrepit ruin where
she dragged out precarious living
as seamstress. There were some
who saw in Francine a resem blance
to the count, but this was dou btless
one Of those dreadful calumnies in
which serious-minded people place
no credence.
But, on this All Saints Eve, the
daughterlY love of Francine would
not be denied. Since she was the
only one on earth who thought of
the dead woman, was it not her
duty to take her some token of re-
membrance to show that she was
| not altogether forsaken i? There
was only one very simple solution
OF the matter: To profit by tie
cover of darkness to visit Donaize
and to return before dawn, so that
Desgranges should not notice her
absence. But how was she to de-
scend from the loft, to open the
door, and cross the barn yard with
out making any noise?
She listened breathlessly. The
deep silence was broken only by the
tolling of the bell Of Veyoux.
She reached the threshold of her
garret and tried to pierce the gloom
in which the loft was shrouded.
Very cautiously she decended the
rickety and creaking staircase and
on reaching the massive oaken door
paused again to listen. Then she
softly drew back the bolt, turned
the key in the lock and on reaching
the barnyard spoke in q low voice
to the dog to prevent him from
barking.
No one had heard her. She was
free, and began to run along the
road which led to Donaize. Ah !
how happy she was ! low little
she regretted the trick she had
played them She walked briskly
along the highway leading to the
hill, on which was perched the yil-
lage of Donaize, and her wooden
shoes rang 'out on the road, which
had recently been paved with quartz
and granite.
The branches of all fir trees
waved gracefully overhead and the
foliage Of giant oaks, formed an
avenue blacker than the night, and
filled with mysterious shadows.
And the further she progressed the
clearer and grander sounded the
tolling of the bells !; bell replied to
bell, resounding from hill to hill.
1t was a universal knell, which
made of the mountains living things
and wept in the night ss though to
swallow up in the darkness of the
universe the lesser shades of the
departed.
At the end of two hours walk
Francine reached the outskirts OF
Donaize and stopped before small
house or rather cottage, built of
clay and thatched with straw. Her
heart was heavy and her eyes moist;
she leaned against the shutter OF
rotten wood aud hinges rendered
almost useless By rust, and peered
in alright into the interior of the
house. How empty and dark ii
was! Ii was here she had gro~n