me?'

"Louis turned ashy pale and hung down his head, without uttering a
word.

"'Louis," said she, painfully impressed by her lover's silence and
coldness, 'why do you turn away from me? I am still your Emmeline,
your betrothed, and I have kept pure and unsullied my plighted faith
to you. Not a word of welcome, Louis?' she said, as the tears started
to her eyes. 'Tell me, do tell me that you love me still, and that the
joy of meeting me has overcome you, and stifled your utterance.'

[Illustration: _The Evangeline Oak_
Near the "Poste des Attakapas"]

"Louis Arceneaux, with quivering lips and tremulous voice, answered:
'Emmeline, speak not so kindly to me, for I am unworthy of you. I can
love you no longer; I have pledged my faith to another. Tear from your
heart the remembrance of the past, and forgive me,' and with quick
step, he walked away, and was soon lost to view in the forest.

"Poor Emmeline stood trembling like an aspen leaf. I took her hand; it
was icy cold. A deathly pallor had overspread her countenance, and her
eye had a vacant stare.

"'Emmeline, my dear girl, come,' said I, and she followed me like a
child. I clasped her in my arms. 'Emmeline, my dear child, be
comforted; there may yet be happiness in store for you.'

"'Emmeline, Emmeline,' she muttered in an undertone, as if to recall
that name, 'who is Emmeline?' Then looking in my face with fearful
shining eyes that made me shudder, she said in a strange, unnatural
voice: 'Who are you?' and turned away from me. Her mind was unhinged;
this last shock had been too much for her broken heart; she was
hopelessly insane.

"How strange it is, petiots, that beings, pure and celestial like
Emmeline, should be the sport of fate, and be thus exposed to the
shafts of adversity. Is it true, then, that the beloved of God are
always visited by sore trials? Was it that Emmeline was too ethereal
a being for this world, and that God would have her in his sweet
paradise? It does not belong to us, petiots, to solve this mystery
and to scrutinize the decrees of Providence; we have only to bow
submissive to his will.

"Emmeline never recovered her reason, and a deep melancholy settled
upon her. Her beautiful countenance was fitfully lightened by a sad
smile which made her all the fairer. She never recognized any one but
me, and nestling in my arms like a spoiled child, she would give me
the most endearing names. As sweet and as amiable as ever,