The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1902-09-19

IN her beyond the i fact that the the
weekly mail over the mountain to
Rougemont late on Saturday night,
had dropped her and her tiny bundles
at the door of the little French inn.
She wanted a room, she told the old
woman who came in answer to her
knock-not the best one, she could
scarcely afford that, and she shouldn't
mind how small it was so long as she
and her baby might have it quite to
themselves.
Old Marie mumbled as she hobbled
along before: mon Dieu, but what
child it is! And so pretty, too. Where's
her husbandY
Then she held the door of the room
open and the young woman passed in;
her sharp old eyes noticed that she
wore no wedding ring. Marie shrugged
her shoulders significantly, then hur-
ried down stairs TO inform her col
leagues Of the fact. AS for the young
woman, once the door was closed she
laid the baby down upon the bed and
walked to the bureau, upon which
stood a lighted lamp. She raised her
left hand and looked at it closely. Di-
rectly below the knuckle Of her third
finger the flesh had been compressed
and Redeemed, but both the marks and
color We're now gradually dying away.
"By this time tomorrow every trace
of it will have gone AS far as looks
go, it will be-exactly as though l
never had any ring at all"
The cure called the next day. He
was an old man and had seen queer
things even in that quiet place, but he
believed in her instinctively. you
must take me on trust for a little
while" she said to him in her gentle
way when she caught his eyes wan
dering to her hands. ut doesn't mat
ter what you call me-Brown, Jones or
Robinson-anything. l was married a
year ago, but it doesn't matter to
whom. That's why I've come here, l
wanted to get somewhere where
neither my baby nor l need be known
by her fathers name"
She was English, but she spoke
French excellently, and her gentle
manners won his sympathy.
AS he was leaving he called Marie
to one side and pressed coin into hel
hand.
"That's for you, Marie-on one condi
fiOn. You must see to it that they al
call her madame"
"NIais, Monsieur lie Cure"
Enough, Marie! Do as I bid yor
now, and say no more about it."
The days went by, but none of thu
village people came to see her. The!
never called" in that vicinity; the!
were far too primitive for that. But
nevertheless, had things been other
wise than as they supposed, they woul,
have soon shown her, after their owl
fashion, that she was a welcome guest
One day the cure came and found he
knitting upon a long, white, heec,
cloud
Look" she cried, holding it up 70
him to see. isn't it pretty? Tell you
your people-all of them down in tn
village there-that if they will pay M
l will make them clouds and mitten
and all sorts of things far prettier tina
they have ever seen. don't ask thei
to know me; l only want to earn m
own living"
So the cure told them Of it, and PIT
in a word parenthetically upon the Ii
tie mothers behalf. Go and see her,
said he. "She can't harm you. 1t
lonely up there alone, and you old'
women could help her so with IL
baby"
But the good people would have nor
of her: if she worked well they woul
nav her well. but with her they wOul
have no fellowship.
one night about two months ~tcr o
= s-tH