Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1906-03-09
HIS GREAT SORROW.

Our American slang had always been
a source of wonderment to him and he
used 1t with the same enjoyment per-
sonally that it produced on his auditors.
But the other letter, Andrea said I,
noticing that he tucked a second missive
slyly aside
He blushed like schoolgirl as he re-
Piled: Eat Use from my Yvonne, but I
open it not till re fine ampuia feenished
and success is NINE"
Andre de Beaumont's pottery and
plaster work had been the fashion ever
since our women's club made him a fad
by taking up both himself and his work.
An Alsatian, having come to our city
a few years before after most roman
tic life of adventure all over the world.
In far-otf Alsace he had left a peasant
sweetheart. one Yvonne st. Romier,
whom he was to claim when fortune ia
yored him! But the silver threads We're
showing now in Andres dark hair and
the time was not yet come.
My brother Paul conceived a great lik
ing for Andre, from the very first and
had him often at our house, where we
spent many pleasant hours, entertained
by Andres playing and singing of the
songs of his people.
At present he was engaged in expert
menting on a marvellous green-tinted
ampulla, which if a success means his
1OI Lullc, anu, DclllS one Ol Ills OIdCSC
friends / was to be the first to view the
wonder, now cooling in the pottery kiln.
Together we went into the workshop
where the kiln stood, and Andre began
breaking down the plaster that held the
brick door. At last it fell, Il crumbled
mass, under his steady blows, but he
seemed afraid to look within; success
might still be as far away as ever.
| laid my hand on his arm. courage,
mon ami" l said.
Reaching down he drew out the vase,
almost revently, gazing speechlessly at
its beauty and perfect green coloring
with streaming eyes. Success was An
dres portion at last
With a bound be was back in the
front shop with Yyonnes letter in his
trembling fingers.
He had read but Il line, when his face
grew deathly white and he crushed the
letter into my hand.
Mon Dieu. ma'msele.'' he cried.
Read! Yvonne. she is dead..' and he
fell into the chair before the fire, bury
ing his face in his hands.
Poor Yvonne, her neighbor wrote, worn
out with long waiting, hoping against
hope. had died with Andres name on
her lips, blessing and commencing him
TO the Blessed Virgin with her last
breath
Andre arose unsteadily. seemingly
grown Il feeble old man in the past few
moments. as he tottered toward the
workshop.
Pausing before the beautiful ampulla
he raised his hand and would have
struck it to the floor had | not grasped
his arm.
ANDRE | screamed.
"Ah. mam'selle.'' he said gently,
wat is zere now Eat should live when
Yvonne she hat gomez
ANDRE. dear friend"' | cried, kneeling
beside him on the dusty floor and grasp
ing his arm. this great sorrow must not
crush YOU. when at last after years OF
work and self-sacrifice success is on your
grasp. Let it be an influence in your life
for good. that its bitterness may leaven
your whole future life work. If 4vOnne
could speak to you now l am sure she
would advise you as L am DOING.
I could not see his face, but his great
frame shook with sobs
Dear Andre" | continued, you and
I are entering life's afternoon, but |
loved and lost once like you. He sailed
away while 1 awaited his return, till one
Christmas eve, nearly twenty years ago.
| learned, just as you have done, that
he was killed far away on the other side
of the world. | have never loved since
or married for my heart lies buried in
far-off Japan; but my great loss taught
me lifes secret-to live for others hap
piness. making their lives so complete
that no one can fill your place, when the
time comes to leave all earthly things
behind"
He pressed my hand but made no re-
ply. De-,
and Come with u.s. cheer ami, and
among new scenes and people begin your
life anew.
The room was dark now except for
the light of the blazing logs, and L
lighted the lamp and drew the curtains
across the windows. Outside the crisp
winter air was full of holiday cheer, the
voices of merry shoppers and clank ana
din of the street coming softly TO our
ears
"('ome tomorrow mann selle,' he SAID
,t last .'and YOU shall hat my answer.
Seeing he wished to be alone L babe
him good night and went away, leaving
him alone with his great sorrow,
On the next day it was nearly noon
before Paul and | reached Andre shop.
A light snow had fallen, making every II
fling look cold and cherries about the
Mace The curtains of the front room
were tightly drawn. the lamp burned
dimly on the table. while only the
cEarred logs remained in the little fire
place.
We called Andres name. but the echo
of our voices was the only reply, so we
hIIrfpH
Andre was there kneelng before the
empty kiln. against which his arms rest
ed supporting his head. Clasped in his
hands were the letter of death and the
little wooden crucifiN. the gift of
Yvonne long ago. while the beautiful am
pulla. the crown of his worldly AMBITION,
Law about him crushed into Il thousand
fragments.
Paul drew me back gently.
I'VE sail alone Minna,' he said
Poor Andre has gone.
1t was all too true. Just as success
and happiness were in his grasp, though
far from home i'll foreign land, Andres
spirit was wandering with Yvonne in the
sunlit valleys of the beautiful Rhine.
Congeniai.
Nagg-When a man and his wife
think the same thing simultaneously, it
is q sign that they are exceedingly con-