Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1904-07-26

but 1 am not strong enough to get up."
Poor mother" said the cooper, you
do not know how much | love you; and,
yog. zoo, childr'
ae drew bis daughter to him and en-
braced her with fervor.
"Ohi how pleasant it is to kiss ones
daughter, after squabble. my little girl,
There, mother! do you see? We are
quite at one again now. Just go and
lock that away" be said to Eugene, as
he pointed to the case. THERE there!
don't be frightened; will never say an
other word to You about it,"
NJ. Bergerin. who was regarded as the
cleverest doctor in Saumur, came be-
fore very long. He told Grandet plainly
after the interview that the patient was
very seriously i'll; that any excitement
might be fatal to her; that with a light
diet, perfect tranquility, and the most
constant care, her life might possibly
be prolonged until the end OF the au-
| tumn.
will it be an expensive illness 2"
asked the worthy householder. After
all, NJ. Bergerin, yo- ere man of hon
or ! can depend upon you, can | rot?
Come and see my wife whenever, and as
often as you think it necessary. Pre-
serve her life. My good wife-I am very
fond of her. you see. though l may not
show it; it is all shut up inside me, and
am one that takes things terribly to
| heart; / am in trouble, too. 1t all be-
gan with my brothers death: / am
| spending, oh!-heaps of money in Paris
for him-the very eyes out Of my head,
in fact, and it seems as if there were
no end to it. IL you can save my wife,
save her, even if it takes a hundred or
| two hundred francs"
In spite Of Grandet's fervent wishes
that his wife might be restored to health,
for this question of the inheritance was
| like a foretaste of death for him; in
spite of his readiness to fulfill the least
wishes of the astonished mother and
daughter in every possible way; in spite
Of Eugenie's tenderest and most devoted
care, it was evident that Nine. Gran
diets life was rapidly drawing to a close.
Day by day she grew weaker. She
seemed to have no more vitality than the
autumn leaves; and as the sunlight shin
ing through the leaves turns them to
| gold, so she seemed to be transformed
| by the light of heaven. Her love for her
daughter, her meek virtues, her angelic
patience, had never shone more bright
| ly than in the month of October 1922,
when she passed away. On the morrow
after her mothers death, it seemed to
| Eugene that she had yet one more rea-
son for clinging fondly to the old house
where she had been born, and where she
| had found life so hard of late-it be-
came for her the place where her mother
| had died. She could not see the old
chair set OH little blocks of wood, the
place by the window where her mother
used to sit, without shedding tears Her
father showed her such tenderness, and
! took such care of her, that she began to
think that she had never understood his
| nature; he used to come to her room and
take her down to breakfast on his arm.
and sit looking at her for whole hours
with something almost like kindness in
! his eyes, with the same brooding look
! that he gave his gold Indeed the old
/ cooper almost trembled before his daugh-
Ter, and was altogether so unlike him
! self that Nanon and the Cruchotins won
dered at these signs of weakness, and set
| it down to his advanced age; they began
| to fear that the old mans mind was Civ
| ing way. But when the day came on
which the family began TO wear their
mourning, NJ. Cruchot, who alone was in
his clients confidence, was invited to
dinner, and these mysteries were ex-
planned. Grandet waited till the table
had been cleared and the doors carefully
shut
The1 he began, MY dear child, you
are mothers heiress, and there are some
little matters of business that we must
settle between us. Is not that so, eh,
| Cruchot?"
Yes"
rs it really pressing; must it be set
tied to-day, father?"
"Yes, yes, little girl. l could not en-
dure this suspense any longer, and l
am sure that you would not make things
hard for me. Everything must be decid-
ed tonight"
''Then what do you want me to do?"
why, little girl, it is not for me to
tell you. You tell her, Cruchot."
"Mademoiselle, your father wants
neither to divide nor to sell his property,
nor to pay heavy succession duty upon
the ready money. So if these complica-
tons are to be avoided, there must be
no inventory made out. and all the prop
erty must remain undivided for the pres
ent-"
You are saying that you talk in this way
before childT"
LET me say what I have to say.
Graudet."
Yes. yes. my friend Neither you nor
my daughter would plumber me. You
would not plumber me, would you, little
grip
But what am to az, NJ. Cruchot?
asked Eugene losing patience.
We'll" said the notar-, you must
sign this deed. by which you renounce
your claims to your mothers property;
the property would be secured to you,
but your father would have the use of
it for his life, and there would be no
need to make a division now"
Il understand nothing of all this that
you are saying" Eugene answered;
give me the deed and show me where
| am to sign my name"
Grandet looked from the document,to
his daughter. and again from his daugh-
ter TO the document His agitation was
so great that he actually wiped several
drops OF perspratiOn from his forehead.
Il would much rather you simply
waived all claim to your poor dear moth
ers property. little girl" he broke in.
instead of signing that deed. 1t viii
cost lot to register il. | would rather
you renowned your claims and trusted
TO me for the future. | would allow YOU
a good round sum. say a hundred francs
every month"
Il will do as you like. father"
"Mademoiselle," said the notary. lit is
my duty to point out to you that you
are robbing yourself without guarantee
-"
What does that matter TO me?''
CHAPTER XIX.