the act of our marriage.

He looked, at me, oh! in such a funny way, and--extended his arms. I threw
myself into them, and for half an hour it was tears and kisses and words
of love. For after all I loved Joseph, not as I had loved Abner, but
altogether more profoundly.

The next day a Catholic priest blessed our marriage. A month later we left
for Louisiana, where Joseph hoped to make a fortune for me. But alas! he
was despairing of success, when he met Mr. Carlo, and--you know, dear
girls, the rest.

* * * * *

Roll again and slip into its ancient silken case the small, square
manuscript which some one has sewed at the back with worsted of the pale
tint known as "baby-blue." Blessed little word! Time justified the color.
If you doubt it go to the Teche; ask any of the De la Houssayes--or count,
yourself, the Carpentiers and Charpentiers. You will be more apt to quit
because you are tired than because you have finished. And while there ask,
over on the Attakapas side, for any trace that any one may be able to give
of Dorothea Müller. She too was from France: at least, not from Normandy
or Paris, like Alix, but, like Françoise's young aunt with the white hair,
a German of Alsace, from a village near Strasbourg; like her, an emigrant,
and, like Françoise, a voyager with father and sister by flatboat from old
New Orleans up the Mississippi, down the Atchafalaya, and into the land of
Attakapas. You may ask, you may seek; but if you find the faintest trace
you will have done what no one else has succeeded in doing. We shall never
know her fate. Her sister's we can tell; and we shall now see how
different from the stories of Alix and Françoise is that of poor Salome