The Argosy — page 78: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

All Souls Eve. 6s Tt would really seem, at least it did to the village, that Mrs. Fitz- gerald was going to be a fixture at St. Eloi. But Mrs. Fitzgerald was not rich, and she was unwilling to quit a locality where she saved no inconsiderable portion of her income. With the exception of a week or two’s absence occasionally, she had now been two years at St. Eloi. July came in; and with it the news of the disastrous battle of the 17th and 18th of June before Sebastopol, when the allied armies were re- pulsed in their attempt to take the Malakhof and the Redan. It was rumoured that the loss of the French was frightful, and St. Eloi trem- bled for the safety of its children. But they had to wait many days yet for the details and the names of the fallen. The official returns came at last, and Monsieur le Commissaire de Police, who in his own august person did duty for the maire, préfet, and the rest of the authorities in a larger town, stood in his bureau, ready to read over the list of the slain. The poor villagers were crowding in: those who had relatives at the war in dread fear, those who had not, from sympathy and curiosity. The Commissaire was opening his mouth to begin, when a movement amongst his audience took place ; they were pushing each other back, treading on toes, and humbly squeez- ing themselves into nothing, to make way for a feeble old gentleman who was entering. It was Monsieur Latange. He had actually come out of hischimney-corner, and walked down from his chateau. Mon- sieur le Commissaire stepped forth, bowing, from behind his desk, and installed his guest in his own office-chair. ‘¢ Attention!” shouted the Commissaire. And he proceeded to read out the list in his most official voice. “<¢ For the commune of St. Eloi. Return of those killed in the en- gagement of the 18th of June, before Sebastopol : “¢ Tean-Marie Dubuis. “¢¢ Robert Eloi Hans. ~¢ Paul Vanderwelde. *« Francois Latange.’ C’est tout, mes amis, grace 4 Dieu!” concluded the Commissaire, taking off his spectacles. | | There was a moment of dead silence, and then a burst of sobs and smothered cries arose from the listeners, in the midst of which the poor old Proprietor fell heavily from his chair. They picked him up, and M. le Commissaire went to the pump, in the yard behind his bureau, and fetched some water. It restored him: but the hope of his old age was gone. Pére Latange had truly loved his son. Madame Latange was a changed woman from that day. It was not only her happiness, but the pride of her existence, that had left her with her son’s life. She never knew until now how entirely her hopes had been concentrated in that son’s future. Madame spent a little fortune in masses for his soul—for which the priests prayed their best. And VOL. XVII. F GOMIG DOG SS (C(O) an =)