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ubt, and he was puzzled whether he should declare himself at once to be the lost Louis Marie, or bide his time and break it gently to her. As if seeking more time for deliberation, he asked her another question "And, my child, what became of your father?" Ah! how little did he dream of the wound he was tearing open. His enquiry was the signal for a new burst of grief from the broken-hearted Alvira. She buried her face in the pillow and wept violently. She remained so for several minutes. This made Pere Augustin determine his course of action. As he had caused her so much pain, he must now console her by letting her know who he is. Drawing nearer to her, he bade her be consoled, for he had some good news to give her; and Alvira, after a great effort, raised her head and said: "It is kind of you father, very kind of you indeed, to take interest in my affairs; but perhaps, as you are acquainted with Paris and belong to the Society of Jesus, you many know something of my brother. Poor Louis Marie! I should like to know if he is well, and happy, and good. Do tell me, father, if you know anything of him." "Yes, I do," answered the father quickly. "Is he alive?" "Yes!" "And happy?" "Yes." "Where is he?" "Here!" cried Louis Marie, bursting into tears--"here, within the grasp of your hand." Could joy be greater? Those two holy souls blended into one. Like Benedict and Scholastica, they wept and smiled together in alternate raptures of joy and grief. Chapter XXX. Conclusion. Now reft of all, faint, feeble, prest with age, We mark her feelings in the last great stage; The feverish hopes, the fears, the cares of life, No more oppress her with torturing strife; The chivalrous spirit of her early day Has passed with beauty and with youth away. As oft the traveller who beholds the sun Sinking before him ere yet his journey's done, Regrets in vain to lose its noontide power, Yet hails the coolness of the evening hour, She feels a holy and divine repose Rest on her spirit in the twilight close; Although her passions ruled in their might, Now vanquished, brighter burns the inward light, Guiding the spirit by its sacred ray To cast its mortal oil and cares away, And list its summons to eternal day. Tossed on a restless ocean, and surviving a long and stormy voyage, how the sight of the verdant hills and spires of the nearing port must cheer th
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