Suddenly Narcisse uttered an exclamation of surprise, and let the paper fall. Charlie, who had his eyes fixed thoughtfully on the floor, looked up in surprise and asked what was the matter.
"Oh, dare is noting de matter," answered Narcisse, trying to look unconcerned. "I tink I must have been asleep."
He gathered up the paper, and said he would go and stand at the door for a few minutes.
As soon as the door closed behind him, he opened the paper again and read the following in the marriage notices: "Married May 13th, 18—, at St. John's, Miss Jessie Cunningham, to John White, farmer, of St. John's."
Narcisse ran up to his room, tore out the notice and burned it. "Dare," he said to himself, with a satisfied look on his face, "Charlie won't know anything about dat now. No use for open de old wound again. Well, she wait about a year. Dat pretty good," he said, with a good-natured smile.
"Well, do you feel any better?" asked Charlie, as Narcisse entered the room again.
"Oh, yes," replied Narcisse, puffing out his chest. "Dat fresh air do me all de good in de world." And Charlie never guessed!
A Strange Presentiment.
While this strange story is fresh in my memory, I am writing it, just as it was told me by my friend George B——, who a few years ago was general manager of a well-known Canadian railroad. I had known George for years, and had been superintendent of the same road. He told me the history of his life one beautiful night in June as we were seated in a sleeping car en route for Montreal. For the first time I knew why he had never married, a problem that had cost me many conjectures. The story is founded on a presentiment. Presentiments are difficult things to analyze, but for my part I believe the tale, and am content to let the reader use his own judgment in the matter.