The Birmingham age-herald., 1909-02-14


 said he then something comes and goes here at mig Do you think that a saint in heaven rturbs herself with rivalries of the earth2 Surely no good woman, much less a pure, happy spirit, would trouble amity like ours"
 He stopped and looked suddenly at the pear tree. The branches and leaves were shal1ing,t though there was no breeze and the feathery shrubs stood still as death. Something more solid than the night blaclIened among the foliage. It sepa- rated from the tree-an apparition all black and white. With a sort of angry rush, close, close past their faces, swept the very nun herself She seemed to make an angry gesture. As she van- ished in the night the wind rose sobbing, the rain poured cold and wild. The whola night seemed to feel her.
 A few days afterward Madame Beck an- nounced in the classes that the professor of literature would aot appear again. He was going on long voyage, she said, at a very sudden and urgent summons. Lucy Snowe heard a great murmur followed by a few sobs. She did not look up. Tima seemed to stand still around her. Shs heard the words "Guadaloupe' and ''bus- mess of friend" Still she sat, stunned. That stunned feeling persisted next day and the next. She became conscious that she was waiting, with the tension of sick person awaiting the doctor for M. Paul to come to her and explain his sudden decision.
 She knew now that their curious friends ship had been some hing still more curi- ous-love.
 On the third evening, when still thera had come no word from him, she could not rest, but stole out after the girls had gone to sleep. Long she walked not heed- ing where she went It was very lata when she let herself into the pensionat quietly and crept up stairs.
 She tiptoed to her couch. The next moment she almost shrekedl On her he'd lay a shape, supine, long and terribles black and white. It was the Nun!
 Appalled, almost beyond the power of breathing, shuddering with a fear not of the earth, Lucy Snowe still forced hers bed and grapple with the thing. Nothing leaped out at her or stirred The shapa gave way to her clutch. She pulled il out and the mystery fell at her feet.
 The nun proved to be a bolster dressed in nuns garments. To them was affixed a note: "The nun of the attic bequeaths to Lucy Snowe her wardrobe. She will be seen no more."
 The writing was Ginevra Fanshame's. That young womans bed was empty. Lucy Snowe began to guess at once what the solution was. and next day letter
  The Count de Hamal had eloped with her and 1t was he who had been masquerade ing as a nun.
 And now Professor Paul appeared again and asked her to go out with him, de- spite all the diplomatic efforts of Madama Beck to pfevent 1t. He took her into quiet street where there stood a quaint and pretty little house, They entered and Lucy exclaimed with admiration of its beauty of decoration and furniture. From room to room he led her till they entered a room fitted up for a class room.
 Accept few prospectuses,' said Pro- lessor Paul, pressing them into her hand She looked at them. They read: Misses School, Numero ', Faubourg Clotilde; Di- rectress, Mademoiselle Lucy Snowe."
 What did she say to Professor Paul?
 There are crises of life, certain great joys and delights that remain in the memory only things wildered and whirling, dim as a wheel fast spun.
 So Lucy heard In a dream what he said; that he was going abroad in the expectation of rescuing some of Madame Walravens fortune; that when this was done he would not need to support the family any longer; that he hoped Lucy would be able to build up a school while he was gone; indeed, he had booked half dozen pupils for her; and when he returned free from obligations, when he returned
 He said no more. No more was neces- sary. The proud Bnglishwoman uttered not a word of objection to his gift or to his uneXpressed intention She caressed the soft velvet on his coat cuff and then stroked the hand 1t surrounded. Suddenly she stopped and kissed it. He was her king
 She remembered every /modulation of his voice, every warm light of his eye, every sudden smile-remembered and cherished them. No more did the world seem dark. No more did she resign her. self to lonely, dull existence. He had left her rich, a wonderful legacy. Noth- ing could intimidate her now. Everything pleased, mere trifles had a charm.
 At last the time fixed for his absence elapsed. Letters arrived saying that he had succeeded in his errand. The sun ,Ii. sed the equinox. The days grew short. The leaves grew sere. It was the time when her spirit grew most weary and Sdim-once, but not now; for he was com- ing over the sea.
 The skies hang full and dark A wracls sails from the west. The heavens are one flame, so wild they rival battle, so bloody they shame victory. Well did she know these signs of the sky. God watch that sail! Oh, guard it!
 For seven days the storm roared fren- zied. It did not Hull till the deeps had gorged their full. Not till the destroying angel of tempest had achieved his per- feet work would he fold the wings whose wait was thunder, the tremor of whose plumes was storm.
 Peace be still Oh, thousand weepers. praying in agony on waiting shores, lis- tened for that voice, but 1t was not ut- tered-not uttered till, when the hush came some could not feel it. till when the sun returned his light was night to somei
 Here pause and cease There is enough said Trouble no quiet, kind heart. Next Sundays one-page classic will be "The Fatal Boots," by William Make 1. peace Thackeray.