AUNT MARTHA'S HAPPY FIND.

Auckland Star, Volume XXV, Issue 169, 17 July 1894, Page 6

AUNT MARTHA'S HAPPY FIND.

ST MADAME GAGNE3IN.

ITran-si.at._d From the French.)

CHAPTER XXll.—(Continued.)

HEATH OF ST. ROCK.

The day was beginning to break when Aimeo moved away from bhe bed where rested fche body of this strange old man, to whom, at tho close of his life, she had been able to bring a little happiness. Sho left tho room noiselessly, for fear of awakening the doctor, who had dropped asleep, and stepped like a shadow along bhe corridor, and down tho stairway. The icy morning air seemed to recall her to herself. She threw a desolate glance around hor, as bhe memory of these past months relumed to her. Oh !it she had known, if she had guessed ! But sho had known nothing, and it was too late; too late for him, too late for her. A keen pain filled her hearb, she quickened her steps, as if to escapo these assailing thoughts. She saw nothing; the thick curtain of clouds covering the sky seemed to cover everything. All was dark around her, sombre and icy ; hor heart seemed like a stono, and her poor head a chaoa fchab no ray could illumine. Sho had entered the forest, and walked with benb head, so preoccupied and so sad, that sho neither saw nor heard . slender figure which advanced to meeb her. • Mademoiselle Aimee !' Tho young director of the factory was near her, and looked at her wibh a singular mixture of joy and pain. j ' 1 have been waiting for you a long time, said he, ' I could not reab until I had seen you. You wero so strange yesberday, se unlike yourself, thab ib has kepb me awake all night. Will you nob tell me why you were so sad ?' Aimoe raised to his a look from which all joy had fled. ' Ho is dead,' she answered : and, covering her face with her hands, she began to sob. Tho young man remained an insfcanb motionless with surprise ; he did nob expect such news, nor such a burst of grief. _ ' Do not cry,' murmured he, ' ib paina me to sco you so sad ; ho touched her shoulder lightly, then, growing bolder, he took one of her handa and kept it in hia. 'I wish I couid comforb you,' said he, 'I should liko bo share all your pain, all your sorrow—will you nob let me ? You know thab I love you, nob since yesterday, nor sinco to-day, but since the first day thab you came to the Lindens. Do you hear me, Aimee ?' Tho young girl's tears were suddenly checked ; she listened motionless, stupefied, her eyes fixed upon those which regarded her so ardently, listened to these strange words, whose sense she seemed unable to comprehend. The young man's face changed; the beautiful face raised to hia expressed neither joy nor the sweet confusion which seems to acknowledge a similar confession. Aimeo's lipa trembled convulsively. ' Did you Bay that you loved me ?' ahe murmured. ♦ D'd you not know it? Have you nob seen it long ago, Aimee, my—' She interrupted him abruptly. ' Do nob say anything more, do nob add a word I beg of you.' ' Bnfc, Aimee, you do nob know—' ' No. I wish to know nothing, hear nothing ; it would be a crime, treason ; leb me go,' • And drawing her hand from his she hurried away. ' Aimeo, listen to me, I have something more to tell you ; it was I who—' But sho had already disappeared in fche depths of the foreab. The young man took a step forward to follow her, then, checking himself, he leaned a;.ainsfc a tree, and, taking off his hat passed hia hand through hi. hair. 'A crime,' murmured he, 'treason? toward whom ? — Oh ! I understand,' —he smiled bitterly—'l am too late, she has already given what I asked for, and I, who thought I had the first right—' Ho laughed aloud and resumed his walk. When he reached the factory all the workmen wore busy; he went through the rooms, looking neither to right nor left, add retting no word to anyone, not even smiling afc the army of children, who were already busy liko industrious ant.. Perceiving his palo faco and gloomy look.*, each of the workmen drew respectfully aside, and naked themselves whab could havedarkened that young face usually co brighb and happy. ' Tho master has received bad news.' Such was the report which soon spread itself over fche factory, and this report was soon confirmed by old Catou's grandson, who, in tho course of the day, confided fco his. comrade'! that the master had not touched his dinner. ***** Aimeo had pursued her homeward course without even stopping to take breath ; she had gained har room, and, still breathless, she remained motionless in tho middle of thab elegant little apartment, as it she were afraid to move for fear of releasing some impetuous torrent around her. lier beautiful eyes, darkened by despair, seemed fixed ns if upon some horrible vision. Ono thought only tilled hor heart; she remembered no more past days, nor dreams of happiness ; she thought no more of that name, so ardently longed for, and so uselessly recovered ; sho had forgotten the old man, her grandfather, found and lost the ean-.o dsy. She only saw, far away, a little faco with large black eyes, which looked sadly abhor, and begged ber to restore her what she had tuken away, the ono she had loved from her chilcjhood, withoub whom she could not live. Ab that moment, bhe door opened softly. 'My poor little girl, how dreadfully you look !' And Annfc Loro put hor arm around her wai^t, ;uid kissed her tenderly. 'He is dead !' sobbed Aimee ; 'I have no one now on earth, no one—' ' Hush, hush, my dear child, how can you nay that, afc the moment when Edwin, Mr Wallson, and Maud are coming back?' Aimee looked :\t her entreatingly. ' You will let mo go, will you not, Aunt Lore?' and sho .lasped her hands to givo force to her pleading. 'Oh ! I beg you, let me go away to-day, to-morrow, if you love me !' ' 11 v. Aimeo, how can you speak so? Go away when Maud is coming back. It would be the blackest ingratitude.' 'No, Aunb Lore, I assure you not; it is because I love her that I want to go ; because I love her—oh ! with my whole heart, more than myself!' She pressed her handkerchief to her lips, as if to check the words which were about to escape her. Mademoiselle Lore was in consternation. That nighb of watching, the grief caused by tho death of her old friend, had certainly affected the young girl's mind. She took her hand. ' Will you do me a favour, Aimee ?' * Oh, yes ! if I can, I will.' ' Go to bed at once, while I geb somebhing for you to cab ; I am sure thab you have taken nobhing since yesberday, and you are beside yourself with fatigue. Will yon do as I ask you ?'

«I will try.' ' Thab is wc'\ my child ; I will go down now to see »■>.._ I can send you. I will come back s__>n.* When she reappeared. Mademoiselle Lore' found Aimee lying upon her bed half dressed, by her Bide a tray which she had hardly touched. The little lady approached carefully, and seeing that she did nob move, noiselessly withdrew, happy in the good resulb of her advice. The day wore away, and after each of her visits, Aunt Lore went away with a lighter hearb. The young girl continued ber peaceful .lumber. When night came, she sab up, and pushed back her long hair. The door opened once more, and bhe benevolent face of Aunb Lore smiled ab the young, girl. ' You are awake, my child. I hope thafc your long sleep has done you good,' ' Thank you.' ' Will you nob come down for dinner 2 Ifc will give me so much pleasure.' ' Oh ! please nob thia evening.' ' Well, well, my child, there is no hurry ; you will be sbill better to-morrow. Meanwhile, I will send you come dinner.' As soon as she was alone, Aimee rose, wrapped herself in a shawl, and seated herself upon her little sofa. * • Whab a day 1 She could never forget ib. She leaned her weary head upon ber clasped hands, and became absorbed in her thoughts, when the noise of steps and voices made her sbarb. In a momenb bhe doctor appeared, followed by Mademoiselle Estelle. i He approached fche young- girl, and took her hand warmly, but withoub his usual gay smile. 'I thoughb of coming during the day,' said he, ' bub so many things have prevented, thab, if ifc had nob been for Aunb Estelle's nofce, I should have waited until tomorrow. How do you feel this evening ?' ' Thank you.' * That is no answer. Give me your hand. Ib is like ice; afc leasb, you have no fever, and your headache ?' ' I have ib still, a litble.' 4 Well, very well; you need have no fear, Estelle. 1 will stay a momenb wibh our patient, while you can finish your dinner quietly.' Mademoiselle Estelle understood tbab ehe was dismissed, and quitted fche room with dignifcy. ' You have passed a sad day,' said fche physician, -I see ifc in your eyes. See, I have broughb you—' Bub before he could finish, Aimee had pub her hand on his arm, and with a pleading accent, said— 'Docbor, promise me that you will aid me to leave tho Lindens.' The physician looked at her in astonishment. * Leave this house ? Why ?' * I do nob know. Oh ! perhaps I know, bub I cannob tell; promise me, doctor ; I am ill, do you not see it ? If you will not help me I must run away. Tell me fchab you will help me.' Tho physician seemed perplexed, and for some seconds looked closely afc fche pale faco with the pleading eyes resting upon him. ' If I could understand your desire,' said he, ab last. Aimee pressed her hand fco her forehead. 'lam so unhappy, so ill; do you nob sco that ib would be bebber for me bo reburn for a few monbhs ab leasb ? When lam bebber, later, we will see. Promise me thab you will bell bhem to let use go, tell them thab it is wrong fco try to prevenb me ; they do not understand,' cried she, with agitation, 'how wrong ib is to force me to stay when I am cad and unhappy.' The doctor rose, took a few steps acroes bhe room, then returned bo Aimee, who had anxiously watched his movements. 'I did nob think,' said he, ' thab bhis would affecb yon thuß; bub sinco ib is so, I believe bhat you are righb, some weeks of resb and absolute chance will entirely restore you. I will arrange ib, you need have ne anxiety.' ' You are cerbain, doctor ?' ■ Perfectly certain that in ono or two days, I will accompany you to bhe station.' A sigh of relief rose to Aimee's lips. * Thank you, doctor.' Ho took the little hand which she extended, and pressed ifc silently. ' Now,' said he, *I am going to show you whab I broughb for you.' And he drew Irom his pockeb a large envelope upon which Aimee road the words, 'To my friend, Bayard.' 'Take it, read ib,' said fche physician, placing the sheeb before her. ' Was he nob a noble man ? See, he has forgotten nothing, neither fche infirmary nor the factory, nor the poor, who did nob much liko him, nor yourself; look further.' 'I ?' And Aimee opened her great sad eyes. 'How could ho? He did nob know then?' ' No, he knew nothine, but thab did nob prevenb him from having a liking for you, and from appreciating, though ib did nob look like ib, whafc you did for him. He asked himself, once, how ho could, withoub wounding you, bhaok you, and show you his affection ; he was full of delicacy, wibh all his bearish manners. Now, calm yourself, and listen to me for a moment; this paper has no value, now.' •Why?' * Because you are the legitimate heiress of all his property. As soon as I ahall have succeeded in having you recognised as his grandchild,, this will be useless, valueless, and everything will be yours.' ' Whab does he give you, doctor ?' ' Did you nob see ? Nob much money, bub he leaves ne somo property, which is yours, like fche .rest.' Aimeo did nob seem fco havo heard. ' Can you,' said she, after a moment of silence, 4 have me recoguised as his grandchild, wibhoufc betraying- hia conduct towards my father and mother S" How strange these words seem, d, sad and sweeb afc the same time. 'No, that is impossible, bub bhab'oughb not to trouble you. I will leave for Switzerland to-morrow, whi.ro I hope to find the wretched woman who has kept you apart.' Aimoe stopped him; 'You know,' aaid she, * that this woman was bound by a promiso ; wo musb nob forge, ifc. She thought to fulfil a sacred duty, and she hfcvs acted faithfully. I have no reason to complain, the yeara of my childhoed wieru veiy happy ones.' She checked herself, but resumed immediately, in a low voice, ' Formtvrly, and even lately, I havo greaHly wished to know my real name; now, nay desire is granted, bub, if I must bear tbat name st the cost of his stained reputation, and of having his past life criticised, judged and condemned, I profer to renounce it. 'Why,' she added, sadly, 'should I drawall this blame upon the only one of my kindred thab I have known and loved ; I care nothing for his forbune, I am moro tban rich with what he gives me, and later, when you are old and infirm I will come to you and care for you if you wish it.' She look afc him and tried to smile. ' Well, well,' siid tho physician, rising quickly, 'I must go, I will comeback tomorrow.' Long after his departure Aimee remained in the same place, her head benb upon her hands, seeing in her thoughts the place where she had passed her joyous childhood, to which ehe was about to return, and where, in all probability, she would end her days. (To he Continued.)