The Northern Guardian. — 1891-12-24 (Hartlepool, Cleveland, England)

THE ITATIOW OF THE PAST.  [ALL RIUTITS IMERVIED..I  CIAPICER IL LETT alone, M Lour listened to the sounds made by the retrea. o,g pwr till t ley died away in the distance. He then ear. ful,,y fa.tened the door, surv.-y.-d every por, ion of the room, and re arra, ged the tights in such a inanner at, to tt,row od, cid d shadows on any angle. Iliong iiueiftv•side the table, he again took up the letter of the abbess, and carefully re reused it. An expiession of bitter tnetbery flitted over his features as he read again and again, a single sentence, and he sneered: "Cleverly expressed, fan ['veil her reversionary expectations are realised; In plain words, till I am dead and out of the way, they wili keep the girl, in consideration of the rich inheritance she may claim. Ha! they don't know as much as I do about this estate, or they would scarcely calculate on the right of my granddaughter to inherit it. It would be a good trick ti let the greedy cormorants keep the girl under the impression that she is the true heiress, and when toe evil one claims me, leave behind me the proof that she has no legal claim on a single acre. I have half a mind to do so, for it will be a risk to have this VI here. What can! do with her l Disgust her with life, and make her commit suicide, or take refuge in her convent again? The last is not a probable alternative, after her energetic prey it against the lite ef a nun. The first a little tuipleaF tto contemplate, as she really is bone of nay bone, and flesh of my flesh. Ugh! I hated her father, I cursed her mother, and now their child nin4 come to me at last, to become the so!ace ot my declining years. ha! hat a joyful consolatioa the daughter of Julien Durand is likely to be, ome to me—me, securied as I am among men, bearing a seared heart and witheeng brain; mocked at by friends, haunted by a phantom whose mission is to avenge the dead, even before I swell their ghastly ranks. No. no, no; let her dwell amid peaceful, tied. fearing women, even if the monotony of their existence does eat into her Weary eine. Better even that. thau the awful existeacc she must lead with me." Ile seized a pen, and rapidly wrote Adrienne,—! dqre not grant your prayer to come to me. I have no fitting home in which to receive you, and my heart is closed to every appeal from your father's child. He was my eneuy—l loathed him; I hurled my malediction upon the ungrateful daughter who forsook me for him; and now ycu, their ask to be taken to my heart! " It is impossible, for that heart has become a baleful flame of hate, which consumes itself, and leaves no genial spot on which love can repose. lam a man blighted by the indulgence of my own Fissions. Sc:e, I do not throw the blame on o'hers ; I know that my career has been evil, my conduct towards those nearest VI me harsh and cruel. Therefore am I left in my did age isolated, hopeless, yet not utterly wretched. "I have my own pursuits; innocent they now are, and I wish to have no further temptation to evil. Should you come to me, my old propensity would return; to torment, to abuse the power placed in my hands is the irrevocable law of may nature, and I must  obey it. 0 Poor child! remain with the good sisters; they will be kinder to you than I ever can; they are innocent, they are pure, and you will not be contaminated by coming in contact with guilt. "You cannot brighten me. lam but a blighted ruin, around which no ivy may twine its clinging verdure. I can bestow a small endowment upon the convent, which will secure to you a respectable position among its inmates. Beyond that I cannot go, for my possessions are much over-raled, and the butt of mywealth must goto other claimants. It will be best for your earthly, as well as your heavenly welfare, for you to remain in your present secure and respectable asylum. Believe me, that weary as this lot seems to you, it is far preferable to the future you would embrace in coming to me; that I must lay epon you my positive command to remain in your convent. ' ETIENNE Lecoua." A few lines were then rapidly dashed off in reply to the superior: 4. Medame,—Your letter has been received by me and p rued with much surprise. I have been under the impression that the child of my deceased daughter was received as s protiye of your own, without reference to the pensien it has been my will to pay you. 'Hale Ins been withdrawn at my command, for Adrienne has naw reached an age which will enable her to tie of use to you in the school under your supervision. She is now eighteea, and for two years past has been been quite capable cf earning her own living by amisling you; uay, I am well informed that such has been her employment, wed yet you ask of me money to defray menses she has more than pat I by her services, ', You ask from me authority to retain her with you, and piamly insinuate that such authority will be s gueseeeee that my fortune bhall eventually be absorbed in the coffers of your convent. Madame, I wiil reveal to you a secret that may become important to you. My wealth is simply a life interest in a large landed estate which was the inheritance of my second wife Madam Louise Meudon, We Montreuil, Adrienne has no claim upon it; the law of Louisiana is rigid upon that point, tied there are claimants enough to dispute ;he succession, if I should be so silly as t 3 bequeath it to any relation of my own. "Prom my savings 1 may be able to afford a small endewment ft Mademoiselle Durand, but it will only come to her at my d.;cease. If you choose to do so, liecp her with you; I disclaim all interest in her; or