Day by day Abel gained in health; his appetite and sleep returned; he laughed as merrily as Marguerite; and people could scarcely believe he was the same man. But the girl never relaxed her vigilance. So passed away the spring and summer; and when autumn came round not the fairest castle in the air which Marguerite had built for herself did surpass the bright reality which opened before her vision. For, lo! the Patent Log was patented, and its success went beyond Abel’s most extravagant hopes. A mass-meeting of ship-owners and merchants was held at the Cooper Institute to do him honor; the press lauded him to the skies; the tongue of Fame was chiming his name far and wide. But, better than all, a cataract of gold was rolling into his pocket.
Of course before long our friend changed his quarters; and, in his new and elegant home, right above the bed Marguerite hung the crucifix which Mother Catherine had given her; then she and her betrothed went to the Convent of Mercy to visit the good nun, who wept glad tears when she heard their story.
“Well, I lean upon her as much as she leans upon me; we love and help each other in all things,” spoke Abel.
“And always, always will,” continued Marguerite.
“God bless you, my children!” said Mother Catherine.
A fortnight later the happy couple were married; after which they sailed on their wedding tour across the sea to Normandy. And one day, as they were leaving the beautiful church of Saint-Ouen, whither they had gone to give thanks to God for their great happiness, Marguerite spoke and said: “I once thought there was no country in all the world like France; but now, my dear husband, I love America more.”
“And I,” returned Abel, “love France as much as I do America; for, although I believe good wives may be found everywhere, it was this sunny land which gave me my pretty Marguerite.”
THE BELLS.
I stand by Giotto’s gleaming tower,