The Hood River glacier. (Hood River, Or.) 1889-1933, 1902-01-03

Perrier Perhaps you know it, mon
sienrW
Certainly, madame" he said.
'He has failed, and run away" | con-
tinued; ''all the pupils are dispersed.
Minima and were returning through
Granville"
II understand, madame" he respond.
ed, "but 1t is yillainous, this affair!
Listen, my child. have much to say TO
you. Do | speak gently and slowly
enough for you?'
"Yes." answered. Il understand you
perfectly"
eve have had the fever In Ville-en-
bois for some weeks" he went on; 1T Is
now bad, very bad. Yesterday | went to
Noireau to seek a doctor, but could only
hear Of one. who is in Paris at present,
and cannot come Immediately. At pres
ent we have made my house into hos
pital for the sick. My people bring their
sick to me- and we do our best, and put
our trust In God. But this little house
has been kept free from all Infection
and you would be safe here for one night,
so | hoped. The mignonne must have
caught the fever some days ago. Now
l must carry her into my little hospital.
But you, madame, what am to do with
you? Do you wish to go on to Gran
vile, and leave the mignonne with me!
We will take care of her as little angel
Of God. What shall do with you. my
chid?"
Monsieur" exclaimed, eagerly, take
me into your hospital, too. Let me take
care of Minima and your other sick peo-
pie. | am very strong, and in good
health: | am never ill-never, never. |
will do all you say TO me. Let me stay,
dear monsieur"
"But your husband, your friends"
he said.
81 have no friends" interrupted, "and
my husband does not love me. If | have
the fever and de-good! very good! am
not wicked; | am a Christian, hope.
Only let me stay with Minima, and do all
| can in the hospital"
'Be content, my child" he said, you
shall stay with us"
| felt sudden sense of contentment,
for here was work for me to do, as well
as refuge. Neither should | be COM
PEELED to leave Minima. | wrapped her
up warmly in the blankets, and Monsieur
Laurentie lifted her carefully and ten
derly from the low bed. He told me to
accompany him, and we crossed the court
and entered the house by the door had
seen the night before. A staircase led
I'D to long, low room, which had been
turned into hastily ftted-up fever ward
for women and children. There were
already nine beds in it, Of different sizes,
brought with the patients who now occu-
pied them. But one of these was empty.
In this home-like ward took up my
work as nurse.
Madame" said Monsieur Laurentie,
one morning, the eighth that had been
in the feyer-smitten village, you did
not take a promenade yesterday"
'Not yesterday, monsieur"
Nor the day before yesterdayY' he
continued.
"No, monsieur" | answered.; II dare
not leave Minima. | fear she Is going
to die"
Monsieur Laurentie raised me gently
from my low chair, and seated himself
upon it, with smile as he locked up ut
me.
Madame" he said, IL promise not to
quit the chamber till you return. My sis
ter has a little commission for you to do.
Confide the mignonne to me, and make
your promenade in peace. 1t is neces-
sary, madame; you must obey me-"
The commission for mademoiselle was
to carry some food and medicine to
cottage lower down the valley; and
Jeans eldest son, Pierre, was appointed
to be my guide. Both the cure and his
sister gave me strict charge as to what
we were to do; neither of us was upon
any account to go near or enter the
dwelling; but after the basket was depos-
tied upon a fiat stone, which Pierre was
to point out to me, he was to ring a
small hand-bel which he carried with
him for that purpose. Then we were to
turn our backs and begin our retreat,
before any person came out Of the in
fected house.
set out with Pierre, solemn looking
boy Of about twelve years of age. We
passed down the village street, with its
closely packed houses forming a very
nest for fever, until we reached the road
by which had first entered Yille-en-bois.
Above the tops Of the trees appeared a
tall chimney, and a sudden turn in the
by-road we had taken brought us full in
sight Of a small cotton mill, built on the
banks of the noisy stream. A more
mournfully dilapidated place / had never
seen.
In the yard adjoining this deserted fac
tory stood a miserable cottage with q
mildewed thatched roof. The place bore
the aspect of a pest house. Pierre led
me to a large fat stone, and | laid down
my basket upon it. Then he rang his
hand-bell noisily, and the next instant
was scampering back along the road.
But | could not run away. The DESC
late plague-stricken place had a dismal
fascination for me. wondered what
manner Of persons could dwell in it; and
as fingered saw the low door opened
and a thin, spectral figure standing in the
gloom within, but delaying to cross the
moldering doorsill as long as remained
in sight. In another minute Pierre had
rushed back for me, and dragged me
away with all his boyish strength and
energy.
Madame" he said, in angry Femon,
STRANGE, you are disobeying Monsieur L
| Cure"
But who lives there?" | asked.
They are very wicked people," he an
swered emphatically; mo one goes neal
them, except Monsieur lie Cure. They
became wicked before my time. ant
Monsieur le Cure has forbidden us tC
speak OF them with rancour. so We Dc
not speak Of them at all.
Who were these pariahs, whose name
even was banished from every tongue?
A few days after this, the whole com
munity was thrown into a tnmult by th'
news that their cure was about to IN
dertake the perils OF a voyage TO Eng
land, and would be absent q whole fort
night. He said II was to obtain som'
information as to the English system o.
drainage IN agricultural districts, which
might make their own valley more