Also, she has lost all faith in conviction upon
circumstantial evidence. She is "o'er young to marry yet," her aunt
thinks, and so do I of course, for this is not a love-story: I wish
that to be distinctly understood.
MARGARET VANDEGRIFT.
THE MYSTERY OF MASSABIELLE.
It was a mild and pleasant day in the middle of February, and the
bright sunlight streamed through the windows of the poor little room
where Madame Soubirons sat alone. The table, with its dishes neatly
arranged for the noonday meal, stood in the middle of the room. A pot
hung in the large fireplace, and a skillet sat upon the few remaining
coals. There was nothing with which to replenish the fire, and Madame
Soubirons sat gazing at the flickering embers with a rueful face. "A
cold hearth is more chilling than the mountains," she said; and she
rose and went out of the poor little apartment, which, with all its
poverty, would not have been cheerless had a bright fire glowed upon
the neatly-kept hearth, and sat down upon the doorstep, where the
sunlight fell warmly.
From this position was afforded a view of a picturesque and romantic
landscape, presenting in the foreground a portion of the quaint
village of Lourdes, with the cross of the old church brightly gleaming
in the sunlight above the thickly-clustered cottage roofs.
Pages:
228
229
230
231
232
233
234
235
236
237
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252