The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

PevuyvuurveveT MANETTE ANDREY, A Heroine of the Reign-of Terror. 2.2. cae 3 +. 7 T eetcciaiene ca rwwuvuce' 4 THRILLING NARRATIVE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. BE PAUL PEERET. rr tr PFESHSSCSSHOSSSHRHRS Re vg rwVvVVYeTvereTCrT eT Tee ss s s ssttt ssSsite The old. man 1 opened the mace: He | and Manette stoud facing each other. Citizen Andrey showed no surprise. 'A man who had led the life he had done had ceased to be amazed at the He put his finger to his A chamber door that opened on the vestibule was ajar. It was Ma- nettes former bedroom. -- He led the way into it. She followed him. * Speak sede he said, " your aunt is very fll "She will be worse when she knows what has happened to her son," said . Manette pitilessly. "Claude is in prison. "She will never know it. The man who has done his best to put him there sent me word, out of spite. he will send me no more messages. "Ah!" she cried, "then you know that too? He at least has met what he deserved. You are gladofit? It is a relief ou 7" They were standing up facing each other. She saw that the past five months a told greatly on the old man. 8 body was bent; in every way he had grown weaker, but the strangest change was in his face. Its expreseion, which had once been 80 hard, had grown soft now. Manette looked in vain tor the reflection of a _ heart of stone that she had expected 5 mn his features, It surprised her that Citizen Andrey seemed to feel no emotion, _ te 10r the brief allusion to alile s death, nobody would ey fmagined that he remembered the ¢ir Tiler which she, who now returned to him, had left her home. He took her by both hands. Hers closed on his tightly. ""My poor Claude!" he said. His eyes were wet with tears, Ma- nette could hardiy believe her own. "My poor Nenette!" said the old man, calling her by that pet name he had given her when she was a baby, "'Il was expecting you. Per- haps not quite so soon. But I knew you would not stay yonder by your- self. You have come back to me without him who was to have been your husband,' "Who is my. jhusband, " broke in the young wife. "Do you think I could have lived with him five months if we had not been murried? Uncle, he sedation dah a oe to the house who ma % rie ee Right -- quite right. In past times a priest's blessing would have been absolutely necessary, but now it is best. You see, nette, your room has been standing all ready waiting for you. Take heart. We will do our best to get our Claude out of the Prison of Velagie," "Then you know where those ras- enis have taken him, uncle ' ou have been more fortunate Thank you for telling me,' Softiy--softly !' said the old man, "you always speak too vehemently, Nenette. Ah, yes; every one would like to call them hard names, only you see just now they are our mas- ters, You speak too loud; your poor sick aunt will hear you. If she knew you were here it would give her a shock. So se must not know it. That asily managed, for she does not leave her bed. Poor thing { she © "Ge ie Manette had aim ost uttered a oy of triumph hh she heard this, b happily she restrained" herself. times had hardened women's hearts, from the furies round the guillotine, to those of gentler nature. Was that day, she thought, to be one on which retribution was to fall on all who had Caused her misery? Buscaille, and then Claude's unnatural mother--all those who had worked together for Claude's ruin--all but Ciliy., Cidly Was etill as dangerous as ever . "My aunt,".she said, "ia not the only person in these killed by fear.'" Citizen Andrey, as she spoke, gave a start of surprise. There were harsh, cruel tones in her voice, such had never before heard there. They seemed to be an echo from his own tones in past times. The tte of blood was revealing itself. Manette went on in the same voice: "Now that my aunt is so near sont does she not ask for her son "She asks for nothing now. Don't be cruel, Nenette. Her mind is gone. I was _in-great trouble about lier, and I.am glad you have brought with you ee citoyenne. What do you call than I. days who has been "Brigette, uncle Old Brigette courtesie¢. " She has & most kind heart," said Manette, "and was devoted to Claude. We de- cided at once that she must come with me. But, uncle, what has be- come of your own woman from Pic- ardy 2?" "She went off the day before yi terday. She' was a good girl wien her head was not running upon Car- magnoles. She fell in love. She has married a sectionaire. I believe " was married this morning. I dare their love stili lasts, but i am cattata , will be ie: before night mes." Citizen Andrey m mwhile was talk- ing with Br "Tis an ill wind -- blows Hi G good The arrival of him help in 'ait Fey He wag sa: that he was sure that if she was * his ros Aye would as he} isi be out of her misery, poor Manette listened with surprise to the flow of words that came from the old man. The extraordinary change in him was rather amusing. Citizen Andrey had become kindly and talk- ative, when entering like other men into his second childhood. Fear had evidently had its effect upon him. This change, too, must be laid to the charge of those who reigned by right of their power to create fear. But at last Manette found its advantage, and the unexpectedly cordial and pa- ternal welcome she had received wag its result, So she might live {n peace in the anne of her childhood, especialiy if a. woman's life, that LIfe wasn had brought so. much mnieery. to chose of her own houséhold, was s00n - Here she might concen- trate on her thoughts on the deliver- ance of Claude. She knew where he was now. She would try to see him. Her old uncle took Brigette off to look after the sick woman in the next chamber, Manette remained alone in her own room, Her habits of old re- turned | to her. As she passed her mes that portrait "Mother," she cried, "help being, flesh of thy flesh, and of thy 'blood, whom thou didst bring into this troubled bald _for her strength is nearly exha Ne Ah, no; that Shae ae acres calm d not know how to help. Life to her had been only to be beau- ful, to be loving, and beloved. She had not been formed to contend with danger. She had had no revulsions of feeling. She had had no strange con- flicts in her heart, of which such re- vulsions of feeling were the cause. A moment after, Manette was seat- ed by the Secretary near the window where she had been used to write to Claude. She leaned her elbows on the desk, as she had done formerly, and tears began to flow freely.. Her eyes had been dry since Claude's arrest. How happy she had been when, seat- ed at that desk, she wrote and re- ceived Claude's letters! Then she had been sure that all her life would be passed in the companionship of that good and handsome fellow, who had always been to her like an elder bro- ther, and who was to be her husband. How indignant she had been at the treatment he had suffered--how eager she had been to become his wife, and make up to him for his sorrows by the ardor of her tenderness | Oh, Claude! Oh, Claude! how thy Manette loved thee in those days, loved thee for all the wrong done thee by thine unnatural parent, and she loves thee more than ever now that thou art in prison and unhappy, through no fault of thine, She 'rose, for in the next room she heard piteous groans and wails. Then & murmur of voices. Citizen Andrey Was giving instructions to the nurse sent him by Providence, He begun to believe in Providence, now that his own strength was failing him. He was telling Brigette what would be her duties, Manette walked about her room, trying to fix her thoughts upon one subject, but in vain they 'would wander in spite ot herself. Claude! In that terrible night when he had been torn away from her, she had more felt how truly she loved him, She loved him as much as ever--as she would always love him--no one but him!l--no one but him! She raised her hand as if to confirm this by an oath. Then, as her hand dropped, it fell against the folds of her dress, and she felt the newspaper she had quite forgotten. Ah! that paper would tell her abeut the other man--that paper that Brigette had purchased for her, She took it out of her pocket and unfold- ed it. Her hands trembled. t Was a roughly printed sheet. At its top in capital letters she read, "Pertiiious Assassination." Oh, yes, she knew 'all that: The "perfidious assassination" was in her eyes an act of justice--a lawful execution. But the details? How had he done it? She looked further. Her eagerness Was so great that at first sle failed to see the words. Yes; here it was. ee uscaille--a distinguished citizen-- sw blime workman wher sn dagen , as t be done"--yes, yes "Su blime, " indeed, the hideous dwarf! "He had said the night before at the section that the march of the Revolu- tion was too slow, and that they must quicken it." Yes; of course what he meant was: they must kill! Well, he had had to that remark a speedy answer. "After the sitting he was returning to his quiet home, satisfied with having done his duty A rascal, a ci-devant, lurking in in the darkness." Now she was coming to woman would She read on; the paper fell from her ep Ps She closed her eyes, agger," she whispered. "Not a drop of blood! The strength of his hands was enough." Then her lips curled. Ss sare a throttled Buscaille just as well as he? fe is as strong. Ah! Buscaillie-was too weak an enemy to Dave resisted either of them!" She was not surprised now that Citi- zen Laveriac made no boast of such a victory. And he had taken : whole month to bring it about. A who month! and the delay had resulted in a misfortune that might irrepara- par os the task had not A Pant diffi- pr it did smali credit to him Pre accomplished it--too late! whe was it, then, that the his dark and moody face hide another from her Pani face go kind, so ten- Cinta and so handsome. Oh, Claude! h. She was walking up and down her chamber. She struck houghite, De rkness~ her like the tour walls of a prison. Sitting Eaposite her mother's portrait, she again addressed her: ' Mother you see that d cheeks so hot she tancied they must scald her, She heard Citizen Andrey's step, ae he came back from his wife's chamber. He came in quite cheerful, almost alert. In one hand he held his hat, adorned with its cockade, and provided with his certificate of ¢ivism. In his other hand he flourished his ivory- headed cane, which had replaced the gold-headed one ot aristocratic days. iil face Hetdnine up with a faint smile --a very laint smile. e smile was ashamed ot itself, and Beale touched his lip "Now see," he said, "how things come all aie of themselves. As your good Brigette is sitting by your aunts bed, I think a little fresh air would O me good." "Ah!" said Manette, "you are not like ones uncle, You are no :onger a prisone " Our oe dear Claude. Well, well, we must get him out-of this scrape. res, I will go and take a little walk. T think I may; I have not been out ot the house for two aise are "Are you going to tans your daily stroll in the Luxembourg Garden You were going there the day I left you.. It was earlier than usual, you remember. How astonished you must have or when you got back not to find m The: old man gave a little dry faugh. "Yes" he safd, "1 remember. It was a sad surprise. But this time I am sure of seeing you on my return, my daughter. Ishell not be es long." He turned upon his heel. Manette looked after him. " Yes," she whis- pereéd " go.*- B these few words had been sufficient to remind her that that house had been to her the house 1 Judgs. And yet the codial kindness of her Unele Andrey had, r the last hour, disarmed her resentment. Why had he revived the memories of that dread- fulday ? "Then he had sinned through selfishness, and he 'was selfish stils. only his first sin had been a thousand times worse than the last. Fear had dominated him--mean, cruel, and de grading fear, a sentiment which leaves no room for shame or pity. A man oes not like to risk his life when things seem pleasant and prosperous ; he wants time to enjoy his wealth and derive profit from his advantages. Might not Citizen Andrey be some- what excused for having facilitated his brothers daughter's escape, when he might have delivered her over to the man who dared to covet her? Other persons hud done worse. Hus- bands had denounced their wives, sons had sold their mothers. They were passing through cruel, dangerous, in- famous times. After al it was not her uncle who had brought Buscailleinto his house; he would nave driven him out of it had he dared. How fear degrades a man! She saw him now, on her return, bent in body, weakened in mind; no doubt he had suffered when he thought of his own baseness. But the crime owed its origin to the woman still cling- ing if ee in the chamber next to her. he had contrived it all, aided by that wretched servant. She had not only plotted against Claudes life, but his good name. Citoyenne Andrey had virtually said to the section, "My son is not a good patriot. We have driven him away from us. You who -hold-his life now in youn hands must hold us bla meless. Do with him what you w Claude's crime, in his unhappy moth- ers eyes, had been that in cluba and in the section he had often spoken; giving those who heard him to under- stand that popular tyranny was ab- horrent to his conscience and his heart. By uttering these unpopular sentiments he had exposed himseif to danger, and might draw it down also on the heads of his parents Claude had endured the treatment he received in silence, He had uttered no complaints. In the house whose doors were shut on him he had left all that he loved, especially her who had been almost his sister, and was to be his wife. She had been indig- nant. She had suffered from the separation, not in silence, and in he letters she had sometimes said that if he willed it she would come and join lim. He had generously coun- selled her not to attempt had--refused-to-atcept ler herself. had said: * be good to the poor woman who has lost her reason. She is my mother ; 3p ei - ith her for my sake, {f how could she be good to. her seat cruel mother ! that mother who had put Claude's life in jeopardy, and then plotted to deprive him of the one thing that he loved? She had made a wicked compact with Buscaille, to ensure his protection for her own wretched life. And when the pur- chaser had come to make sure of his bargain, the Woman he had bought Was gone. How the - sans-culotte must have laughed, and rubbed his hands, an jd: "It will be teenie enough to find est One can make a good guess. where she has Bens " Then came the lucky blow on Bus- caille's head, and the dwellers in the Rue de I' 'Eeliiquier had for a time had peace, had appeared, more dange ak than Buscaille, All the misfortunes that had dark- ened the life of Manette she owed to the cowardice and selfishness of that an. thought over these things it seemed to her as if she must confront the dying woman. She had been told she must not see her.' She found that her uncle had even locked the door into her chamber, but there was a door of | communication between her own chamber and the sick ee It was locked, and she, key was gone. 6s .she the tlires- roo: When she was ttle 1 she had been lay there, She remembered, as if it were yesterday, sue fair, kind face of a woman with powdered hair, who sat in an enay-chatr watching ' _ "a ry would run in with ny ee deubed with ink, and would put round his motiier's neck, meaning thereby to induce her to pardon him for having run away from his les- sons. Then the mother would call Manette, and passing her arms Pihogy both her 'euuidren, would draw em teliing everybody: Beye. Piola children, both equally dear wh ho would have predicted to Claude and Manette that the day would come when that mother ani save her own groy 'ead? With such reflections! To think of things like that impaired the desire for justice, In fifteen years no furniture had been altered in that large chamber, and it looked precisely as it had done five months before, While Citoyenne Andrey's character had changed, her habits had er no. alteration. a easy-chair stood in the same ndow; on a low seat near it lay her. knitting. Only the India muslin tains Were drawn close, that as littie light as possible might find its way into the alcoy » where, on a be lay the sick woma This alcove was ae the end of the room, and so situated that Manette, as she stood in the doorway, could not see the person lying in the bed. A wailing voice she heard, however. She took a step forward, then stepped back to the threshold. In.a huge bed lay the Citoyenne Andrey, crooning to herself. The opening of the door had let a flood of light into the dim chamber. Mn- nette, where she _ stood, seemed bathed in sunshine. A ray from the brillant July sun Played on tle carved woodwork, and the eyes of the dying woman fol- lowed it. For a moment they recoy- ered some of their lost intelligence. She was singing, with her little thread of voice that quivered and trembled, an old psalm tune. She, too, had in that. hour gone back in thought to her old life. Manette knew that her Seeoees had been passed in the estern provinces. Citizen Andrey hee first met her on the banks of the ire, the river which rolls in waves of silver be- tween green shores and greener isl- ands. Afterwards he met her again in Paris, a young hidetetdat chia hand- some, and had married On the confines of Brittany and Able relig- ion has always maintained its hold the hearts of the people. The rhodes going on there in this year, 798, was less for the king than for Goa 'Himeelf The ayice Woman was calling to mind the pious chants of her youth in her last hour, even as the Breton peasants died with psalms upon their lips, when, singing, they rushed up to the mouths of cannon; their guns in one hand and their rosaries in the other, She had been earnestly on God's part years before. God in all likell- hood would have preserved her rea- pee had she continued faithful to Ty Manette stood on the threshold, Brigette, sitting beside the bed, could see her, and regarded her with some eurprise. The old servant - ha not forgotten that Citizen had forbidden his sick chamber. He had sald: aunt must not know you are here." Manette put her finger on her lips, and closed the door behind her. he room was dark again, and the sad song ceased, Manette's emotion of pity had now passed aw ay. Her voice rose clear and sharp in the dark chamber. "Aunt! Repentance -for the evil you have done would avail you more than singing psalms. You have still time for repentance. Aunt, do you know what you have done for your son? Claude is in priso She stood as she spoke beside the alcoy The "dying" Woman rose up in her bed; her poor, lean arms waved wild- ly in the air, then dropped upon the coverlet. Her head slipped on her pillow. With her last breath she ut- tered a low wail. srigette was frightened her. "Madame," and leaned "what have is dead," she cried, think 'she rit Manette, you, my poor Brigette, pray for me --pray 'for me!" "Your letter, which, when I saw your dear writing, my loved Manette, I thought could only bring me hap- piness, brought me news of great sor- row. I seem to have been born under an unlucky star. I remember only the love and tender care that my poor mother gave me in my childhood ; and alas! it seems as if I must have made her little return. Now sle is gone! "A dear Manette, try not to think that if IT had followed your advice, and preferred domestic my duty to my country, my might have. been i I have courage to-endure it You can bear me witness that when they came to take me, in-the name of the law, I submitted to the arrest with firmness. Ah, but it was cruel to. sep- arate me from a wife 60 lovely, so eloved. - "Thanks to a generous Citizen, I have been allowed at last to reteive your letters. You see that these lines in answer to yours are dated at Sainte Pelagie, where I am still. Ah, it is hard, my love to be in rison | But, Manette, when I came here it Was with a heavy heart. had for soe ees before from the change in ¥ been ae her with a smile, as sence played about J - room, saying to myself: 'She is no longer my tender, loying Manette. What can hdve happened to turn her heart from me!' No, dearest, I am not go- ing to réproach you. Your letter has made amends to me for all. I know weeks I was here without even news of Ade Long, weary weeks they ~ Forgive--me--forpaining you by my complaints. It is the effect of being shut up in prison. The heart grows. bitter, and feelings are ex- pressed without one's usual self-res- could bear my imprison- thought my misfortune back.your love, and carte the public welfare. I try to I think I rogated. Perhaps I shall not but my replies to a. Lae ate 'cae f May ask are all ready. I shall tell them the truth, and ifa eS speaks truth he cannot be embarrassed by any examination *Do you race "that seals were put on our poor little home aiter you left it >and you were quite right in do- ing so, and in going to the protection of our uncle--my second father. The seals have been taken off and my pa- pers searched. One thing they found which has caused my some uneasi- ess. It was a note from Lava. which has given them the impression that I was intimate with him. You know that Lava is e author of a 'play condemned as unpatriotic and anti-revolutionary during the trial of the late ex-king. 1 shall tell them that Lava and I were pair ly acquainted with each othe for mother's intend. I fore he which reflect on Citizen Robespierre. When he wrote it he was tied to a wolman's apron-strings. He was living with a woman who made him do anything she chose. I kept Gut of such eect thinking only. Of my dear Manette. *I ami writing a wieraieiat to be addressed to the Committee of Pub- lic Safety. 1 wili try to send a copy of it to Citizen Andrey. You must both read it, and may make such changes in it as you think pro- per. I do not ask you try to come to see me here in prison. You could not do Citizen Andrey must be aware of the prohibition of all visits by the Commune. have taken from us our greatest stipes ahaa Hope only retains to know now that you are think- in lovingly of your unhappy Claude. had never really doubted it; aoa ee can write to me. receive and to answer your one Bascaned ee any kisses this paper whieh". os 'un be opened res you. Claude Cezaron." . (To be continued.) Hints for Stamp Collectors. The following are some of the varie- ties of tricks practised by 3 pulous persons: 1. Ordinary perforated stamps with exceptionally wide margins: have their perforations trimmed off, and such stamps are offered as rare un- perforated stamps. 2. Ordinary perforated stamps with wide margins are Paap with the rare perforations. This fre- quently oe: by means of an ordi- nary hand . 8. Where Senne are printed in the same color with slight changes in ee the rare varieties are made by piecing. For instance, the one-franc French Empire is made by taking the 80 centimes, dark car- mine, with the bottom label from the one franc the--Republic 4, Bi-colored stamps with the cen- tre reversed, are extremely. rare, are made by cutting out the centre and reversing it on another copy of.the same stamp. For instance, the 1869 U. 8S. 15c., 24c., and 900 have ae made by this process. 5. By chemical means the color is eiaieed.: Foe instance, the 10r, blue of. Brazil is changed into the 10r black. 6. Stamps which have been can- celled by pen and ink have thelr can- cellation marks removed by chemical means and these stamps are sold as unused. 7. Counterfeit Nearipiel baile so fre- nently made on mps which have eis hiceticeod "reprint or "specim 8. Countertcre surcharges are ex- tremely common. They can be made on an ordinary printing press. 9 s are some- times made by printing the stamps with wood cuts, -using-« certain kind of oil, or they are made by pressing the gon i of the water-mark on the stamp, and then removing a portion of the paper by rubbing with pumice- stone. 10. Very rare stamps of which a portion has disappeared have had these portions Added,--Harper's anand Table. How He Explained it. He was very deferential, but he was a deacon in' the chureh and he felt yo Pp wit I su ggest that your sermons are ah---- e990 prosy, I the minister. "Oh, no, not that. Regt too long.'" "But lame me for that," returned so minister, pleas- antly. "If you knew a little more I wouldn't have to tell you so much." suppose," suggested Need No Indorsement. The Art Garland Stoves and Ran- ges are too well known to need any indorsement from us and we only re- quire to call the attention of our read- ere to their reputation and to advise them to examine into thelr mierits. Any stove or range bearing the name "Garland": is warranted to the best that ¢ can be made. is z accertaln ungnarded warmth com & man now and then that roller 'ehigeatte out of the head.--Frances Burney. .