The Argosy — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

7O All Souls Eve. : ‘“‘ Mother,” said Clara, as she sat by her mother’s bedside that even- ing, when the shades of night were gathering, “ you have no objection to my accompanying Madame Latange to pray to-night?” ‘“‘ Madame Latange!” ‘TI told you, dear mother, I met her this morning, and how pleasant she was. She is coming to see you, when to-morrow is over.” ‘What good’s Madame Latange to do me?” querulously interrupted Mrs. Fitzgerald. “I don’t like her. Breaking off her acquaintance with us, as she did, without reason!” “She goes to-night to pray for herson; in the church and at his tombstone. May I make one of those who join her?” — ‘“‘What, in the cemetery? Nonsense. You'll catch your death.” ‘Oh no, I shall be well wrapped up. We knew poor Francis”—Clara’s voice trembled. ‘‘Let me make one to pray for the repose of his soul.” “T don’t see why its repose need trouble you,” returned Mrs. Fitz- gerald. “Quite the contrary. I had used to think he was inclined to flirt with you, and that you encouraged him. There’s nothing so unladylike for a young girl as flirting, Clara.” “ Well, mamma, you will not have that to complain of again,” sighed Clara. “I may go with Madame?” “‘ Now, I don’t want to be teased. My arms are in excruciating pain, and it’s nothing to me whether you go or not. But if you catch rheu- matic fever in the cemetery, there'll be nobody to nurse you, recollect.” A goodly company of comméres, as Babette had expressed it, went forth that night with Madame Latange. The great bell boomed out ~ incessantly: the church was crowded with devout groups, bowed in ~— silence before their many candles, the grease from which guttered down — on the stone floor ; and the priests, for the last time that long day, sang | over their monotonous chants. A little before nine, the last candle offered up by Madame Latange had expired. The cemetery lay beyond the village. It was a dreary walk to it at all times, between the two straight rows of poplars. The stout hearts of some of the commtres failed ; arid they turned home on leaving the church. Mademoiselle Anastasi¢ who was a very COMmESS had been brought by her aunt against her will. “For the love of Heaven, don’t go, my aunt,” she implored, with chattering teeth; “wait till daylight. The shades will have returned to purgatory then, and we can all join you, and pray in peace. Should he appear to us, I should just die of fight.” 3 Madame Latange’s only answer was the taking of Mam’selle Anas- tasie by the arm, and marching her off towards the cemetery. Her serving man, Paul, walked first with a bliz ng torch, and the group of courageous commtres huddled close behind, holding on to one another. — “But is Madame herself not aj1a'd to behold the spirit of poor Master — Eomichbooks.com