And she loved him so well that in the end her love wuz stronger than the principles of religion that the old lady had instilled into her, for she ran away with this Monseur De Chasseny, and, forgettin’ its wickedness, they lived an ideally happy life for years in a shootin’ lodge of hisen in the heart of a fragrant pine forest in South Carolina. They lived this happy life till his father found him, and by means of family pride, and ambition, and the love of keepin’ his own word and his father’s pledges, he got him to leave his idyllic life and go back to the duties of his rank and his family in the old country. [Illustration: MADELINE.] He had pledged his word to marry a rich heiress, and great trouble to both sides of their noble families wuz goin’ to take place and ensue if he did not go, and his own family wuz goin’ to be disgraced and dishonored if he did not keep his word. Wall, men are often led to do things that at first they shrink from in mortal horror—yes, and wimmen are too. De Chasseny vowed that he would not leave the woman he loved and the little girl they both worshipped, not for any reason—not for father, nor pride, nor for honor. But he did. He left her, with plenty of money though, as it wuz spozed, and a broken heart, a ruined life, and a hoard of bitter-sweet and agonizin’ memories to haunt her for the rest of her days. She wuz a lovin’-hearted woman bound up in the man she loved—the man she had forsaken honor and peace of mind for. There wuz no marriage—there could be none between a white man and a woman with any colored blood in her veins. So in the eyes of the world and the law he wuz not guilty when he left her and married a pure young girl. Whether he wuz found guilty at that other bar where the naked souls of men and wimmen stand to be judged, I don’t spoze his rich and titled friends ever thought to ask themselves. Anyway, he left Madeline and little Genieve—for so he had named the child after an old friend of his—he left them and sailed off for France and the new life to be lived out in the eyes of the world, where Happiness and gratified Ambition seemed to carry the torches to light him on his way. Whether there wuz any other attendants who waited on him, a holdin’ up dim-burnin’ lamps to light him as he walked down Memory’s aisles, I don’t know, but I should dare presume to say there wuz. I should presume to say that in the still night hours, when the palace lights burned low and the garlands and the feast robes put away for a spell, and his fair young wife wuz sleepin’ peacefully at his side—I should presume to say that these black-robed attendants, that are used to lightin’ folks down dark pathways, led him back to love—first, true, sweet love—and Madeline, and that under their cold, onsympathizin’ eyes he stayed there for some time.