PAULA

THE WALDENSIAN

by Eva Lecomte

_Adapted and translated from the Spanish Version by W. M. Strong_

PREFACE

I Hope and trust that the young people who read this book will have as muchjoy in the reading of it as I have had in its writing. 

Paula's Saviour wishes to be your Saviour too. Paula was by no meansperfect, but she did love God with all her heart and her neighbor asherself. 

This simple country girl, young and strong, yet so tender-hearted andforgetful of self, appears to me sometimes like one of the clear brooks ofmy beloved land, pure and fresh, slipping noiselessly between floweredbanks of forget-me-nots. It was by love that she "conquered"--as we shallsee!

If some day you should come to my country, do not forget that I would havegreat joy in seeing any of those who have read this book. I live in thelittle town of Villar at the bottom of the valley, where on every sidethere are hills and mountains as far as the eye can reach. To me it is theloveliest country in the world and I am sure that Paula thought so too. 

And so good-bye, dear young reader! I must not keep you any longer, for Iam sure you have a great desire to know about Paula; and anyway, I supposeyou will have done what I would have done at your age, namely, read thestory first, and left my poor preface to the last--for which I have alreadypardoned you!

And now, may God bless you, Paula dear, as you walk among these my youngfriends who read about you! My prayer is that you may shed over them thesame sweet ray of celestial light that you have already shed over others. 

EVA LECOMTE. 

Villar-Pellice, France. 

Translator's note:

"Paula" was originally written in French and translated from thence intoSpanish; and the present translator having discovered this literary andspiritual jewel, felt that it should be given also to the young people ofthe English-speaking world, not only that they might know Paula herself, but that, through her, they might become more intimately acquainted withPaula's Saviour and accept Him as their own Redeemer and Lord. 

W. M. STRONG. 

Coihueco, Chile, South America, 1940. 

CONTENTS

PART ONE

1. AN UNEXPECTED LETTER

2. MEMORIES

3. PAULA ARRIVES

4. PAULA'S TREASURES

5. LOUIS' WATCH

6. IN THE MIDST OF DARKNESS

7. CATALINA'S ILLNESS

8. THE FIVE-FRANC PIECE

9. A LITTLE GLIMPSE OF HEAVEN

10. IN THE COUNTRY

11. THE CAT MOTHER

12. A TREASURE RESTORED

13. THE SCHOOL-TEACHER AND HER BROTHER

PART TWO

1. SOME YEARS LATER

2. THE BRETON

3. SAVED!

4. THE YOUNG SCHOOL-MISTRESS

5. THE NIGHT-SCHOOL

6. THE HOUSE OF GOD

7. IN HIS PRESENCE

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE

AN UNEXPECTED LETTER

Clearly engraved on the walls of my memory there still remains a picture ofthe great gray house where I spent my childhood. It was originally used formore than a hundred years as the convent of the "White Ladies", with itsfour long galleries, one above the other, looking proudly down upon thehumbler dwellings of the village. On the side of the house, where ran thebroad road from Rouen to Darnetal, a high rugged wall surrounded a wideyard, guarded at the entrance by two massive doors, studded with enormousspikes. The naked barrenness of this yard was, to say the least, forbiddingin the extreme; but the fertile fields on the other side of the housespread themselves like a vast and beautiful green carpet, dotted here andthere with little villages, crowned with church spires and theircorresponding belfries, from which on a Sunday morning pealed out thecheerful call to prayer and worship. The ancient convent long before ourstory begins had been transformed into a lovely dwelling with an immensegarden on one side, edged by a dozen little brick houses that seemed sosmall that they made us children think of certain doll-houses that we usedto see in the Paris magazines. They were known locally as the "RedCottages. " A long avenue of ancient elms separated us from these houses ofour neighbors, and in front of the cottages stretched a line of stonebenches, where, in the shade of the great trees, the old men of the villageused to sit and recount to us tales of the days when the Conventflourished. Some of these stories made us shiver. (Indeed, they had a habitof straying into our dreams at night. )

The rest of the land around the Convent had, with the passing of the years, fallen into the hands of the villagers themselves. Each one had a smallspace for flowers in front and a vegetable garden behind. 

Of course, our own garden covering the whole space in front of the RedCottages, was a much more pretentious affair with its deep well, itsmany-colored kiosks, and its noisy bee-hives. In fact, it was in our eyes, the most enchanting corner of the earth. 

I don't remember all the details about the special thing that happened oneday, but I know that I shall never forget it to the end of my life. 

We were at tea in the garden. Teresa, our old servant, was walking up anddown in her kitchen. She never seemed to have time to sit down to eat Dearold Teresa! She always seemed like a mother to me, for we had lost our owndear mother when I was still in the cradle. 

My brother and I had quarrelled over a mere nothing, when we were called into tea by our father. Of course, we did not dare continue our disputeopenly in front of him, but we continued our war-like activities by kickingeach other under the table. 

Louis was ten years old and I was nine. As he was older and a boy, he ofcourse, considered that he had the right to the last word. Now kicks hadreplaced words; but as we were seated at quite a distance from one another, we did not succeed in causing very great damage to each other's shins. Notwithstanding this, I began to lose patience, and in order to end thematter, knowing that Louis was not very courageous, I leaned my chair asfar inside as I could and let him have one terrific kick. At this, his facechanged color and my father now disturbed by the extra noise of my kick, finally began to realize what was happening. I do not know how matterswould have terminated, if Teresa had not at this moment come into thegarden with a black-bordered letter in her hand which she delivered to ourfather. He took it silently and opened it as Teresa carried away thetea-pot. 

I saw immediately by my father's expression that the letter carried seriousnews, and I am sure Louis noticed it also for he completely forgot toreturn my kick. 

"Teresa!" called my father. 

"All right, I'm coming, " said that good lady. 

"Read this, and tell me what you think of it, " and my father handed theletter to the old servant. 

Teresa seated herself at the end of the table between Louis and me, andwith her head in her hand commenced to read--Teresa was not verywell-educated and she read the letter very slowly and half-aloud. "Whowrote this?" was her first question. 

"The Pastor of the village, " replied my father. 

"A minister!" exclaimed Teresa. "He's a mighty poor writer for a minister, and no doubt his mother paid mighty well for his 'education. '"

My father smiled a bit sadly. 

"You don't understand it, Teresa?"

"Yes, yes; I understand half of it, and I think I can guess at the otherhalf. "

"Do you want me to help you?" offered Louis. 

Teresa looked scornfully at Louis--

"You! I should say not! You don't care to help me in the kitchen or runerrands for me, and the only thing the matter with you now is curiosity!"

That settled Louis, and Teresa went on with her reading. Bending her greatfat form more and more closely over the letter, she became more serious asshe neared the bottom of the fourth page where the writing became so closeand so fine that it was hardly possible to decipher it. When, at last, shelifted her head, her eyes were full of tears. "Poor, poor little thing!"she repeated softly. 

"Well, what do you think?" said my father. 

"What do I think? Why we must send at once and have her come here as soonas possible, because--"

"Who?" my father interrupted her without ceremony. 

"Yes; who? who?" questioned Louis. 

"Tell us, father, please, " added my sister Rosa, a tall, serious girl offifteen. 

And as he did not answer us quickly our questions multiplied. 

"Patience! Patience!" cried my father; "your turn will come. "

"Teresa, you are getting old, and another girl in the house simply meansmore work for you and a lot more problems for me. If 'she' (my father hadnever been able to reconcile himself to pronounce the name of my mothersince her untimely death)--if 'she' were here I would not hesitate, but tobring another orphan into a family already half-orphaned doesn't seem rightto me. "

"Don't worry, sir, a little more work doesn't worry Teresa Rouland. Shewill have to get up a little earlier and go to bed a little later, and thatwill be all. "

"Well, Teresa, I'll think about it, and it needs to be 'thought about' agood deal. "

"And why do you say that, sir? One doesn't have to reflect long about doinggood. "

"Well, I'll tell you why I hesitate. I'm sure that someone else could muchbetter replace the parents of this orphaned girl. I must confess that formy part I don't feel equal to the task. "

"Sir, would you like to know what I think? You have said to yourself, 'Fromthe time that my wife died life has become a burden, and if it wasn't forthe children I would have died of grief, but for love of them I must workand live. Therefore, with my heart torn and desolated as it is, I don'tfeel called upon to take any responsibility upon myself other than that ofmy own children!'"

"There is a good deal of truth in what you say, Teresa. "

"Yes, sir, but it is very bad, very bad, if you will let me say so! I knowI ought not to talk so, as I'm only a poor old servant; but remember, I wasthe one that brought up the lovely woman that we all mourn for, and I knewher before you did, sir, and I loved her as if she were my own child. WhenI put her in the coffin it was as if they had taken out a piece of my ownheart. She was so young to die, so sweet, so good, and besides somarvelously beautiful! But I dried my tears as best I could, for I knewthere was much to be done; and I said to myself that I would honor thememory of my mistress by doing always that which I knew she would haveapproved of. And now, sir, take this little orphan as you know your goodwife would have done, as the daughter of her beloved sister. .. . " Shestopped suddenly, slightly abashed, as she realized that perhaps she hadsaid a little too much for one in her station in life. 

But more than her mere words, her voice vibrant with emotion had moved usall to the depths of our souls. 

"You are a valiant woman with a great heart, " my father said, as he tookher hand. "I will write this very night and ask them to send the girl to usas soon as possible. "

Then turning to us he added, "You no doubt know by this time of whom wehave been speaking. Your cousin Paula has just lost her father. You willremember, her mother died some years ago, and we are her nearest relatives. Your uncle's friends have written me as to whether I will consent toreceive Paula in our home, and in a few days, more or less, she will beamong us. "

We opened our mouths to ask a thousand questions, but father stopped us. "No, no! That is enough for now! Later I will tell you the details;besides, I must go out immediately. Go now to your various tasks and don'tbe thinking too much about this coming of your cousin. "

CHAPTER TWO

MEMORIES

That night I could not study my lessons. In fact, I could do nothing butthink about Paula! I was not a student and was always at the bottom of theclass. Louis, in the matter of study, was no better than I; but in theschool, thanks to his brilliancy of mind, he always seemed to skin throughsomehow. Rosa was not a bit like her brother and sister; being a model ofpatience, application and obedience. I was very proud of my sister Rosa, and I loved and admired her, but I never had the slightest desire toimitate her. 

After my father had gone, nothing was talked of except our cousin Paula. When would she come? What would she be like? Would she be content to behere among us? All these were questions which we could not answer as weknew very little about her. They had told me that Paula lived in theWaldensian Valley--a country where the inhabitants fed on black bread andlived in homes that were like stables. I had no idea just exactly where themountains of Piedmont were. I had searched the map without being able tofind the region, but I supposed it must be somewhere between France, Italyand Switzerland. 

There was another thing I had found out; namely, that Paula was about myown age. What happiness! This fact I repeated over and over until Louistold me to keep quiet. This attitude on his part I put down as discontentbecause Paula wasn't a boy, so I kept repeating, "Paula's the same as me!"

"For mercy's sake, will you keep quiet, Lisita? Besides you have yourgrammar twisted as usual. It doesn't surprise me in the least that you'realways at the foot of the class, if that's the way you study. "

"You can talk to me as you like, " I answered, "but when Paula gets hereI'll never speak to you again, and I'll tell her not to say a word to youeither. I am mighty glad that Paula's a girl and not a disagreeable boylike you. "

"Oh, keep your Paula, much do I care!" replied Louis. 

"Come, come, " exclaimed Rosa, "what's the good of fighting over this poorgirl Paula whom neither of you have ever seen!"

"It's Louis' fault!"

"No, it's Lisita's!"

"It's the two of you! If Paula could see the way you quarrel I'm sure shewould not want to come. I hope she will love us all and we must all of uslove her also, because she's not only an orphan, but she's a niece of ourpoor dear, dead mother. "

Rosa knew well how to bring about peace. One word about our mother wasenough. 

"See here, Lisita, " and Rosa drew me toward her, "I see that you haven'tthe slightest desire to study tonight, so close your book, and if you getup early tomorrow morning I'll help you. Do you know what I would do now ifI were you. "

"What?"

"I'd go and see Catalina, You know that she does not like to be alone allof the afternoon, and I think Teresa has gone out If I didn't have so muchto do I'd see her myself. Now, look out you don't make too much noise. Catalina has a terrible headache today. "

"All right. I'm off!" I said. 

The idea of visiting my oldest sister never made me very happy in thosedays. In fart, I hardly ever entered her room because it bored me terriblyto be in the company of such a disagreeable invalid. 

I remembered the time when Catalina was the liveliest and happiest personin the whole house, but unfortunately all this had changed in an instant. One day three years before, Catalina had fallen from the top of a highcherry-tree which she had climbed against the advice of Teresa. She wasunconscious when we picked her up, and it seemed at first as if she woulddie as a result of the fall. After six months of cruel suffering, however, her youth had triumphed over death; but the big sister who had always beenas happy and as lively as a bird was gone from us, and in her placeremained a forlorn, unhappy girl with a poor twisted body, who at rareintervals sallied from her room a few steps with the aid of her crutches. Unfortunately her character had also suffered severely, for in spite of thetenderness and solicitude of my father who sought to satisfy her slightestdesire, and in spite of the untiring care of Teresa and the patience andsweetness of Rosa, Catalina's life was one long complaint. Her room, withits white bed adorned with blue curtains and its magnificent view of thefields and mountains, was the most beautiful in the whole house. A pair ofcanaries sang for her in their respective corners; the finest fruits werealways for her; and as she was a great reader, new books were continuallybrought in; but nothing seemed to have power to put a smile of satisfactionon her thin, wasted face. 

Poor Catalina! It was certainly true--I didn't love her very much. I was soaccustomed to see my sister in her invalid state that her pitiful conditiondidn't seem to move me, and she was always in such a bad humor that I onlywent to see her on rare occasions. 

However, on this particular afternoon, I had, of course, a great desire tocarry her the news of our cousin's coming, and so I gladly went to visither; but forgetting all the warnings of Rosa I burst open the door like agust of wind. 

Catalina was lying with her face toward the wall with the curtains of thebed partly drawn, and a green shade had been placed over the cages of thetwo birds in order to stop their singing. Under other circumstances I wouldhave prudently retired, thinking that Catalina, more irritated or sickerthan usual, was endeavoring to sleep. Doubtless our old servant had come into speak to her regarding Paula, and finding her apparently asleep hadarranged things as I found them. She turned her head on hearing me come inand in a sharp tone exclaimed, "What a noise, Lisita! Can't you give me asingle quiet moment!"

"You know I haven't been here all day!" I answered impatiently. "In fact, Ihaven't been here since yesterday morning, and besides, I forgot that Rosatold me that you had a headache. "

"Well, you know it now!"

"So you wouldn't care to have me tell you the big news!"

"No!"

"Well, I am going to tell you anyhow, because I can't keep it to myself anylonger! Uncle John is dead!"

"Uncle John! Dead?"

"Yes, and I'm happy!"

"What do you mean, you're happy!"

"Well, I am happy!--not because Uncle John is dead, but because his littlegirl, Paula, who is just my age, is coming to live with us, so, of course, why shouldn't I be happy?"

"Well, you can just forget your 'happiness, ' because Paula is _not_ goingto live with us. I can tell you that right now!"

"And why not? Father said she was coming! You can ask Teresa, or Rosa, orLouis!"

"I am not going to ask anyone, but I tell you that Paula is _not_ cominghere! No! and indeed, NO! I've got enough to put up with, with Louis andyou! It seems as if you tear my head apart, for you quarrel from morningtill night; and when you play it seems as if the house is coming down; andnow suppose another bad-mannered little girl should come among us! But Itell you it _never_ shall happen!"

"You're not the one who orders things here!"

"Neither do you, you impertinent little thing. "

"Now, don't get mad, Catalina!" I cried, as I burst into tears. 

"You don't know what you are talking about. You do not realize that Paulahas no one in the world to care for her. Teresa read us the letter outloud. I know I'm not a good girl and I'm almost as disagreeable as you are, but I am going to be good when Paula comes. You shall see. She will be mydearly beloved sister and she is almost exactly my age. Oh, I certainlyshall love her so, and we shall always be together and we, we. .. . "

"Keep quiet, Lisita. Your tongue runs like a mill-wheel. Besides, where didyou get all these details?"

"It was this afternoon, just as we finished tea. They wrote to father, andfather gave the letter to Teresa, and Teresa said that a little extra workdidn't bother her, and so father said, 'All right, let her come!'"

"And I? Father said nothing about me?"

"Not that I remember. "

"Oh, " sobbed Catalina, "everything is done without me now! Because I amnothing more than an invalid, everything is arranged without consulting me!What difference does it make to you--who are able to laugh and run andplay--if I suffer here without having a thing to say about what goes on inthe house! How would you like to be in my place? Father never came to sayone single word to me about the matter, and now without consulting me as towhether it would disturb me, they wish to bring another trouble to tormentme more! But it shall not be, and the day that she comes I shall go to ahospital, because they do not want me here any more!"

Poor Catalina! She had passed a very bad day, and always on such days shewould weep on the slightest pretext. I didn't care for her very much, butthat day I pitied her with all my heart and I did what I could to calm her;for once her nerves were excited, nothing could console the poor unhappygirl. Besides, I was very much afraid that she would be able to change myfather's purpose in regard to Paula. He, generally so severe, so cold, andinsensible in his attitude toward us, obeyed the slightest wish of hiseldest daughter. And if--if!--she succeeded in preventing Paula's coming Ifelt that I would never, never pardon Catalina! But now I tried to embraceher. 

"Listen, " I said; "father had to go out, but when he returns he will tellyou the same thing that I have told you!"

But Catalina would not hear me. With her head hidden in the pillows, shecontinued crying. 

I was desperate! As a rule it took a lot less than this to make Catalinaworse. Catalina worse! And all my fault! What would my father say! And yetI had had no bad intentions. How could I have known that she would havereceived my good news in this way? Suddenly I had a brilliant idea. LeavingCatalina I ran to the kitchen where Teresa was preparing the vegetables forsupper. "Teresa, come quickly, " I cried with my eyes full of tears;"Catalina is making herself sick with crying. "

"And why? I left her sleeping only a short time ago. "

"Oh, yes, I know; but please come at once, Teresa! It's all my fault! Itold her that Paula was coming and she is beside herself! But really andtruly I had no idea that she would take it that way!"

Teresa jumped up quickly, saying under her breath, "What next?" and then tome, "You certainly are a troublesome youngster, my poor Lisita!"

"But Teresa, I vow to you. .. . "

"Be quiet, and go back to Catalina's room! I'll be there as soon as I can!"

I left the kitchen well content. Teresa was not full of pretty phrases butshe had a heart of gold, and I knew that somehow or other she would be ableto fix things with Catalina. I found Rosa already in Catalina's room on myreturn, trying in vain to calm her. She turned to me. 

"What on earth has happened? I heard Catalina sobbing, clear at the otherend of the house. Are you responsible for this?"

"No, no, it wasn't I; it was Paula. "

"Paula!"

I tried to explain, but at this minute Teresa entered, bringing with her aplateful of delicious apples. 

"Come, come, Catalina!" and her deep, sonorous voice seemed like soothingbalm, as her presence appeared to fill the room. "What on earth are youcrying about? It is but a short moment ago that I secured permission fromyour papa to read you a letter which he has just received from Italy, and Iwent out to pick up some of your favorite apples, the first of the season, and here I come to find you crying!"

Catalina became a little calmer hearing the word "letter, " for, to the poorconfined invalid, a letter from abroad was a great event. Nevertheless, between her sobs she remarked, "Is it a letter about this terrible 'Paula'that they are talking about?"

"Yes, " answered Teresa, with that soothing voice of hers. "It's a letterthat tells us a bit about a niece of your poor mother. "

Catalina calmed down completely. If the memory of our mother still lived inthe heart of her other daughters it had first place above all else withCatalina. 

"Now, read it to me, Catalina, " said Teresa. "You can do so much betterthan I can in the reading line, and it will sound so much better from yourlips than from my poor stumbling ones. Wait till I fix up the pillows, anddon't cry any more. And now your headache is better, isn't it?"

"It still pains terribly, Teresa. Let Rosa read it. "

Rosa took the letter, and read in her clear, sweet voice the lines that hadso stirred us all. 

There were but few details. Our Uncle John had died; so wrote the pastor ofthe little church in that far-off Waldensian Valley. He had died as he hadlived--a real Christian. He had no near relatives, it appeared; and therest of the family had gone to America two years before. Paula, therefore, was alone. Just before breathing his last, my uncle had expressed thedesire to leave his daughter in the care of our father whom he had neverknown, but of whom he had heard nothing but good. Beside all this he hadleft his daughter in the hands of God, the loving Father of all orphans, praying Him to guide and direct in the whole affair. His last prayer hadbeen for us; asking God to bless our family that we might all be guidedinto the straight and narrow Way that leadeth unto life eternal. Thenfollowed certain details relative to a small inheritance that Paulapossessed, and the prayer of the Pastor himself that the temporal andspiritual happiness of the little orphan might be maintained. 

"Is that all?" asked Catalina. 

"Yes, " said Rosa; "that is the end of the letter. "

"Poor little thing!"

There was a long silence. I think Catalina was thinking of her mother, forher face had softened for once. 

Teresa sat with her large agile fingers flying--those strong fingers thatwere never idle;--the metallic sound of her needles alternating with thehappy song of the canaries, from whose cages the curtains had again beenremoved. 

Never in my life had I lingered very long to observe Catalina, but thisafternoon I could not help but notice how pale and delicate she really was. Propped up on her pillows with her golden hair falling around hershoulders, one would not have guessed her to be more than fourteen yearsold, instead of eighteen. Seeing her thus after her day of sufferings, Ipardoned all her bad humor and hardness of heart toward Paula; and I had agreat desire to take her in my arms but I did not dare do such athing--fearing she would refuse my caresses. 

"Teresa, " she said suddenly, closing her eyes to keep back the tears, "doyou think that it hurts very much when one dies?"

"Why do you ask that?" and Teresa looked at her quite surprised. 

"I was thinking of Uncle John. "

"That depends, Catalina, that depends. There are some persons who dietranquilly in their sleep with no pain at all, but in the case of others itis quite the contrary. "

"But afterward, Teresa! How about afterward? What happens to us afterdeath?"

"Afterward?" Teresa looked puzzled. "Nobody knows what happens to usafterward. When I was a little girl, my mother who was a very pious woman, told us that if we were very good we would go to heaven, but if we were badwe went to hell. I believe she was right, poor woman, but it is sometimesince I have thought of religious things, and your father does not like tohave us talk about it. "

"I know _that_, Teresa, but I can't help thinking about it often and often. Was our mother a 'pious woman?'"

"Not exactly--at least, not before she became ill. Her relatives inVillar--your Aunt and your Uncle John used to write lovely letters to her, that spoke of God and heaven and prayer. Your mother used to sigh afterreading them, and sometimes she would read me a page or two from thoseletters, and would say to me, 'My good Teresa, we both ought to think aboutthese things! My sister is far more happy in her hut on the mountain-sidein Waldensia than we are here in the midst of abundance. It must bewonderful not to fear death and to love God with all our heart' When shespoke thus to your father he laughed at her and said. 'Now, don't you worryabout that, darling, you couldn't be any better than you are now; and I amglad that you are not like these pious ladies who try to tell you what willhappen to you after death. You'll have plenty of time to think about thosethings when you come to your last days; but now with your good health androbust constitution you can count on a good old age. '"

"But father was mistaken, Teresa!"

"Yes, he certainly was mistaken, poor man. Nobody could have believed thatwhen on that Monday afternoon she complained of a little pain in herthroat, she would die on the following Thursday. "

"Was it diphtheria, Teresa?"

All that poor Teresa could say amid her tears was, "Poor, poor littlebeloved one! Never shall I forget her last moments or the desperation ofyour father. From his very first visit the doctor said that there was nohope. I thought I would go insane when he said that! How I remember her theday before she was taken ill, in all her youth and beauty--singing as sheworked, and then suddenly came that terrible pressure in her throat. "

"Then, Teresa, you remember, she could not kiss us goodbye. "

"No, poor lady, that was her greatest pain when they told her that hersickness was very contagious. But--there! there! Catalina, I did not meanto make you cry, and I have told you this story so many times, and now hereI am telling it over again like the foolish woman I am!"

"No, no, Teresa, go on, " answered Catalina between her sobs. "I am alwayshappy when I hear you speak of our beloved Mamma. "

And now, I too could not keep back my tears as I kneeled beside the oldservant, who left her work to pass her hand over my head. 

"Thou didst not know her, dear Lisita. How many times during her sicknessshe told me especially to take care of thee, and love thee as if I werethine own mother. Yes, and correct thee also. .. . At times I ask myselfwhether I have obeyed her. "

"Oh, Teresa, " exclaimed Rosa, interrupting her and closing, with a bang thebook which she had not read. "Indeed, you have done your duty. What wouldwe have done without you? Of course, I can't say, " and Rosa smiled, "thatyour punishments have been very numerous, but father has taken care ofthat. Father corrects us and you do the loving part"

"Now, see here, your father loves you also, and it's only the pain ofhaving lost your mother that makes him appear more severe than he reallyis. Open the window, Rosa, I can hardly see, and I must finish thisstocking before I quit tonight. "

Rosa obeyed, and a soft breeze entered, laden with the perfume of thegarden, and Teresa resumed; "After the doctor had gone that afternoon yourmother called me and said, Teresa, tell me the truth. The doctor believes Iam going to die; does he not?' I didn't know what to answer her. Yourfather hoped in spite of the doctor's opinion that she'd pull through, anddid not wish me to let your poor mother know that there was any danger. Buthere she lay praying me with her joined hands that I should tell her thetruth. She spoke with great difficulty and I feared that soon she would notbe able to speak at all, and therefore weeping, told her the whole truth. "

"And then?

"Then she said to me, 'Teresa, I'm certainly afraid to die! I'm afraid! I'mafraid!"

"'But, ' said I, 'Madame, why should you be afraid? You have always been sogood to everybody. The good God will take you to heaven. ' But she could notbe calm. 

"'According to the world's standard perhaps yes, Teresa--but before God! Tothink that in a few hours I shall be face to face with the Lord Jesus and Iam not prepared!--No, no, let me speak, Teresa! I have done my duty by myhusband and by my children, but I have forgotten God. I have not loved Him, neither have I prayed to Him and therefore I'm afraid to meet Him. Oh, Teresa, I'm afraid to die. "

"I could only repeat, 'The good God will pardon you, Madame. He is so goodand kind. He will have pity on you, for you have never done any harm toanybody. '

"'Ah. ' she answered, if I had but listened to my sister and brother-in-law!How many times they urged me in their letters to surrender to the LordJesus, but I always put it off . .. And now I'm dying! Oh, Teresa, Teresa, can you not help me?'"

"But I thought Mamma died in peace?" suddenly questioned Rosa. "I remembertoward the end that she was anxious to go, and at last said that she wasgoing to heaven. "

"Yes, my beloved madame did indeed die in peace. Sometime after she hadasked me whether I could help her she said, 'Teresa, read again that lastletter from my sister. I have it here under my pillow. ' I read it to her asbest I could, and as I finished she said to me, 'Read it again, Teresa. Oh, if only my dear sister were here this minute!" Twice again I read theletter, but still she was not satisfied. 'Those last words, Teresa, Readthem again to me, please. ' And again I read them. "

"Do you remember those last words, Teresa?" Catalina asked as she listenedwith rapt attention to the story she had heard so often from the lips ofour old servant. 

"I don't remember all. I would have liked to have kept the letter. It wassuch a letter that would help any one to die, for it was certainly atreasure. But my poor madame wished to carry it to the tomb with her, andno doubt it is there yet in her hands, poor little angel. As I remember it, the letter concluded thus: 'He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life, and him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out!'"

"I read these, the last words of the letter, a dozen times over to her andshe seemed to take hold of them as a drowning man would grasp a board thatfloated by him--then without movement, with her eyes shut, she seemed to besleeping, but every once in a while she appeared to be talking withsomeone. "

"Do you think she was praying, Teresa?" I asked in a trembling voice. 

"Yes, Lisita, she was praying. And I am sure that the good God heard her, for she said to me after a long silence, Teresa, I believe my Saviour hastaken me for His own--I am a poor, guilty, and ungrateful sinner--I havewaited until the last moment, and I know my sins are great, but mySaviour's love is greater. But oh, my husband!--and my children! I havedone nothing to attract them to God. Oh, Teresa, take care of them! Takecare of them! I have put them in the hands of the Lord that He may savethem also. I can do nothing and--it is too late!'

"She asked me to call your father who was resting in the next room for hehad watched all the previous night and had worked as usual all day. Shecould hardly speak, but as best she could she prayed him to be reconciledto God and to teach their children to know the way of salvation. "

"The strange thing to me, Teresa, " said Rosa thoughtfully, "is that ourfather who loved our mother so much, has not taught us this Christianreligion according to our dear mother's last wish. "

"That is the terrible part, " Teresa answered. "An awful change came on himat the death of your mother. He loved her desperately and when she died itseemed as if his heart turned to stone, and when I tried to console him hecried out bitterly, 'Don't speak to me of God and don't try to tell me Heis a God of love. He took away my most precious treasure and tore my heartand my very life to pieces. '

"About a week after the death of my poor madame he called me to him andsaid, 'Teresa, you are a good woman. You've brought up my dear Maria, carried her in your arms when she was small, and in your arms she drew herlast breath. She commended her poor children into your hands, and I wantyou to remain forever at their side, but on one condition, remember--thatyou never speak to them again on the subject of religion, neither ofprayer, nor of church, nor anything of the kind. Hear me well, Teresa! Hearme! I have prayed very little in my life, but on that last night when mydear wife passed away, if anyone prayed with all his heart and all hisstrength, I did so. Kneeling beside her bed I promised God to serve Him; tobring up my children for Him if He would only leave me my treasure. But Hedidn't do it Then why should I serve Him?'

"When I saw that it was useless to argue with him I promised what he asked. Just think, if I had been obliged to abandon you to a strange servant!" andTeresa viewed the three of us with those great blue eyes of hers full ofaffection for us. 

"Oh, " I cried, trying to take her great fat body in my arms, "What would wehave done without you!"

But Teresa, wanting very much to cry and yet trying hard not to show it, put me gently aside, saying, "There, there! You are making me lose a lot oftime. Stand up, stand up! You have been on the floor at my feet for overhalf-an-hour like a little purring kitten and wearing out your stockingsbesides. "

And then continuing without awaiting my reply:

"Well, I am only a poor ignorant servant. If I can read, it is because mypoor madame taught me. Nevertheless it has nearly broken my heart to seeall three of you, and Louis besides, growing up like a bunch of heathen. And, what happiness prayer does bring one!"

"Do you pray, Teresa?" asked the wondering Rosa. 

"Oh, at times. But see now, servants must do what they see their mastersdo. After the death of my poor madame I prayed often, but little by littleI seemed to lose the habit. Your father hardly ever spoke to me, andexcepting Catalina, you were all too small to understand important things, and the neighbors!--Oh, you know among our neighbors one never hears anyprayers at their houses either. I would be so happy before I die to see theday when my poor madame's prayers be heard regarding us. "

"It's a shame, " said Rosa, "that Paula is so small. If she were only a fewyears older perhaps she could"--"I'll tell you what's a shame, and that isthat she is coming at all, " interrupted Catalina with the return of her badhumor. 

"Oh, " sighed Teresa, "poor little thing! What could she do at her age! Achild of ten years will never be able to change your father's ideas. Themore you speak to him the worse he is. No, the one who has to change willbe the child _herself_! She must learn to do as we do. I do hope she maynot have to suffer too much. Of course, at her age she will adapt herselfquickly to her surroundings, and after all, your father is a good-heartedman. There! At last the sock is done! It was time, for I cannot see anymore. What a lovely day it has been! The fruit ought to ripen quickly witha few more days like this. "

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine . .. It was the greatclock of Darnetal that recalled us to the present. 

"Nine o'clock!" exclaimed Teresa, "how the time has passed! Lisita! Off tobed!"

"Please, Teresa, let me stay a few minutes more; it's lovely here by theopen window. "

"Yes, it won't be so lovely tomorrow morning when you must rise early to bein class on time. Isn't that so? Now go, Lisita! No more nonsense!"

"Here, take this, " said Catalina, handing me a lovely orange that she hadreceived; "You can have it if you go to bed immediately!"

"Oh, " I exclaimed beamingly; "I do love you so, dear Catalina. "

"Is it me or the orange that you love?"

"It's you, and the orange, and Teresa, and Papa, and Rosa, and Louis, andPaula. "

"There! there! Go to bed, " said Catalina, disentangling herself from myarms. "If you don't go to bed at once I will take away your orange. "

Laughing, I embraced her again, and Rosa too, and then rushed off to myroom, but not without slamming Catalina's door with a noise that shook thewhole house. 

CHAPTER THREE

PAULA ARRIVES

For nearly a week I couldn't think of another thing but the coming ofPaula. 

My father had gone to Paris. He would be there some days to arrange certainimportant matters of business in connection with his factory, and also towait for the little orphan to be placed in his care by a lady who wasjourneying from Villar to Paris. In school I talked of nothing else. Infact, I talked about her all day and every day. I learned nothing, norcould I seem to do anything around the house. 

One night, while dreaming, I jumped from the bed, crying, "Paula! Paula!"This awakened Teresa, and she made me take some nasty medicine thinking Ihad fever. I made promises of reform. I wanted to be good, studious andpatient, in order to be an example to Paula who would see my good qualitiesand would thus endeavor to imitate me. Nevertheless I became absolutelyinsufferable! My older sisters without being quite so enthusiastic as Iwas, nevertheless spoke often of Paula. Catalina began to worry that Paulamight suffer in our house, but she soon consoled herself by rememberingthat my father had promised to put her out to board, if it turned out thatshe could not get along amicably with us. As to Louis, he soon showed usthat he was not at all interested in the arrival of his young cousin. If ithad been a boy, it would have been different--but a girl!

Teresa spoke very little as to Paula, but I am persuaded that long beforethe arrival of our little orphan cousin, she had been given a large placein our old servant's heart. She found a little white bed up in the atticwhich was placed in my room beside my own cot. 

At last the great day arrived. It was a Wednesday, and of course I had togo to school as usual. We did not know at what hour my father would comefrom Paris with Paula, and so every moment I said to myself, "Perhaps theyhave arrived!" Result--my lessons went from bad to worse, but at last atfive in the afternoon, I reached the house breathless only to find thatPaula had not yet come. "They are not coming!" I cried impatiently, "I knewthey wouldn't be here!"

"Then why did you run so fast?" Teresa asked. 

I said nothing, but soon Rosa also arrived, and after tea I put all mybooks in order, redressed my dolls, got rid of the ink on my hands withpumice-stone, and in between each task, took a turn in the garden on thepassing of any coach-but always with the same result! Would they _ever_arrive? Then came supper-time. Catalina had been up and dressed all day andwould not hear of going to bed until Paula came. Our summer days are verylong, but night had arrived, the lamps had been lighted, and we hadresigned ourselves to wait without the consolation of seeing the road fromthe window. Then suddenly--Oh, joy! We heard a faint sound of wheels in thedistance; then clearer and clearer as they rattled over the pavement of thedeserted street. Teresa had already arisen from her chair. I had a wilddesire to run out in the dark to receive my young cousin for whom I hadwaited all these weeks, but something seemed to detain me. Then while Iwaited questioning myself as to what I would say to Paula, trying toremember all the many counsels of Teresa, our old servant staggered in fromthe yard with a great bag in each hand. Then our father entered with ayoung girl at his side dressed in black. Paula had come!

In anticipation I had fancied Paula as a pale, sad little girl with blueeyes full of tears. She would have golden hair, very smooth, cut off at thebase of her ears, and would be dressed in black muslin, and wear a strawhat with a black ribbon tied under her chin. But here was a differentPaula. She was large for her age and appeared quite strong. Her frank openface, bronzed with the sun and air, showed health and intelligence. A blacksilk cap with a wide ribbon of the same color, failed to entirely hide amagnificent head of brown hair, gathered beneath her cap after the mannerof the Waldensians. Her simple dress of black and gray stripes reachedalmost to her ankles, while an apron of fine cretonne came to her knees. Ablack shawl whose points passed under her arms and were knotted behind, protected her shoulders, while a pair of great thick shoes completed herattire. In spite of what to our mind was a certain quaint oddness in herdress, it could not hide Paula's beauty. Her forehead was broad andintelligent, her large brown eyes were full of a certain sweetness, and alovely smile played on her half-opened lips. 

"Come, " said our father in an almost kindly voice for him; "Embrace youryoung cousin, and give her a hearty welcome. "

Rosa came forward, and I timidly did the same; but Paula dropping father'shand, rushed toward Rosa and then to me, kissing us both and laughing andcrying at the same time. She seemed to forget her long voyage and herweariness as she repeated to each one of us in her melodious voice, "I knowI shall love you all, and my Uncle Charles here. I already love him, and hehas told me all your names. Let me see, this is Rosa, " and then turning tome, "You are Lisita. Oh, if you only knew how much I love you all!"

"Now go and greet your cousin Catalina, " said my father. "She is the sickone, " he added softly. 

Paula drew near the big chair where the sick girl re-clined. Catalina wassmiling sadly at the young stranger. "Do you also love me a little?" askedmy eldest sister. 

With tenderness and infinite care Paula enveloped her in her strong arms. "I already love you with all my heart!" she said, laying her head againstCatalina's shoulder. 

"Have you ever been sick, Paula?" she questioned her. 

"No, but Papa was, " she said in a trembling tone. 

At this moment Teresa arrived carrying in the final bag. "At last, " shesaid, embracing Paula. "Do you know who I am?" Then, seeing that Paulaviewed her a bit strangely, she added, "I am only old Teresa. It was I whobrought up your dear mother, and I thought I would have to do the same withyou; but it looks to me as if you wouldn't need very much of my care. Youare so large and healthy, much bigger than Lisita here, and yet youprobably are no older. How old are you, pray?"

"I am ten years old, madame. "

"Oh, don't call me 'madame. ' Call me Teresa, just as your mother did manyyears ago. "

And Teresa took the lamp and brought it close to Paula. "No, you hardlyhave any similiarity in your face, but your voice is like hers. Now, let mehug you once more, my treasure. " And Teresa pressed to her heart themotherless child. 

"In my country they say I am like Papa. In fact, I have his portrait in thetrunk and I will show it to you. "

"Show it to us now!" I shouted. 

But Teresa interrupted me. "What a child you are, when poor Paula is sotired! Tomorrow will be time enough. "

The meal for the young traveler had been prepared on the end of the greattable, where Teresa had placed buttered toast and jam, and soon she salliedfrom the kitchen with the rest of the food. 

"There you are, Paula, " Teresa said, drawing her to the table; "Sit downand eat!"

"And the others?" said Paula, looking at us. 

"Oh, we ate long ago, " said Rosa. 

"I think we might eat a little bread and jam to accompany her, " I said. Then everybody laughed. 

"I think Lisita is right for once, " said Teresa, always happy when she wasable to give us a bit of pleasure; "and I think Paula will be a little morecomfortable that way. "

"Now then, Paula, are you not hungry?" asked Teresa with her hand on thelock of the kitchen door. 

"Yes, madame . .. That is--yes, Teresa. "

"Begin then! Lisita doesn't need any urging. Do as she does, and I trustyou will eat with a good appetite. "

Paula looked at us, one after the other, and then looked at Teresa as ifshe would say something. As Teresa remained, looking on in an astonishedmanner, Paula got down from her chair and stood in front of her now coolingcup of hot milk. She placed her hands together, closing her eyes andbending her head a little, she said slowly and deliberately in a low voice, "The food which we receive, O Lord, may it be blessed, in the name of theFather, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen!"

CHAPTER FOUR

PAULA'S TREASURES

Naturally, on awakening the next morning, after Paula's arrival, it was"Paula, Paula, Paula, " that occupied my every thought. I found she wasstill sleeping. How I did wish to wake her up! But Teresa had cautioned meto let her sleep as long as she wished on account of her long journey ofthe day before. So I simply half-opened the curtains of her bed and closedthe window to warm up the room. 

I had no idea what hour it was. Teresa had the watch under her pillow, andI could never tell the time by the sun, like Louis and Rosa, but I couldtell it was very early, for almost every door and window of the red housesacross the street, were still closed. Once in a while, I saw a factory handpassing with his lunch under his arm, on his way to work. Among these, Inoticed one whom we called the "Breton, " a terrific drunkard of whom I wasgreatly afraid; but, strange to say, this morning he went on his way with afirm, straight step, behaving himself quite like an ordinary person. 

The sky was clear and very, very blue, without a single cloud. It hadrained the night before, for on all the trees and bushes thousands ofwater-drops glistened like diamonds in the light of the newly risen sun. 

Dozens of little birds were singing their morning songs in the great lindentrees on the avenue, and the scent of the flowers from the laborers' littlegardens over the way, floated in through the window, and what a multitudethey were!--roses, lilies, geraniums, pansies and forget-me-nots. I couldnot see our own garden from our bedroom window, but I knew that there alsothere would be flowers in profusion, thanks to faithful Teresa's unceasingcare. Here also hung that delight of my life--the swing which my father hadplaced under the apple-tree one happy day five years ago. Oh, how Paulawould love it, and how happy she would be among us! Again I took a peepbetween the curtains but still she slept. Would she never wake up? Now Ihad a chance to observe her more closely. That beautiful face, just a bitserious, buried in the white pillow, on which were signs of moisture, betraying the fact that tears had been mixed with her slumbers. 

It was long after we finished breakfast, and our father had gone to hiswork, that she finally awoke. But now, all her sadness had disappeared, andnot a sign of a tear remained. She ate her breakfast with great gusto, nothowever without again performing that strange custom of putting her handstogether, and repeating the prayer which our astonished ears had heard thenight before. 

Teresa searched among my sister's clothes for something a little moremodern with which to clothe our little country visitor. Meanwhile Paulachatted happily to us, telling us quite a little of her life in thatfar-off Waldensian valley. In the winter she and her father had lived inthe stable in the midst of the cows, goats, sheep, rabbits, etc. It was theheat from the bodies of these animals that kept them quite warm; and at thesame time saved the price of the fuel which would otherwise have beennecessary if they had stayed during the day in the dwelling-house. Sometimes, she told us, the poor from the village would come to theirstable, bringing their children with them for this same purpose of gettingwarm without any expenditure for fuel. Then, what happiness and what gamesthey had together, in that little space in the stable between the animals!

Oh, yes, she went to the school, she said--the little school whose teacherwas her own father who every afternoon gathered the children together inthat self-same stable. In the evening, the neighbors would bring each onehis own little stool, crowding into every unoccupied space that could befound in the stable; the women spinning, the men reading in turn from theBible by the light of a tallow candle. Meanwhile the babies were put tosleep in the straw above the sheep-fold, until the time came to dispersefor the night Paula, being a great girl of ten years old, always trieddesperately to keep awake along with the older folks. Toward the close ofthe evening, her father would say, "Now, my friends, let us meet before theLord. " Then the needles would be put away, the hymn-books would be takenout, and often they would sing far into the night. Then after earnestprayers by several of the neighbors, the long winter meeting would breakup. 

Of course, Paula preferred the summer, she said, when she ran barefootthrough the flower-covered fields or when she accompanied her father asthey gathered the wheat. Then at other times she had to take her turncaring for the flocks of sheep and goats, and see that the lambs and littlekids did not stray too far away. She never tired of watching these happylittle creatures with their thousand antics as thy jumped over the rocks. 

In the summer, how happy she was in those vast green Alpine fields, howmagnificent that pure air, and that bluest of all blue skies! And in theautumn!--What a beautiful season was that, with the nut-gathering and thebringing in of the apples and the grapes. Then she told us how our UncleJohn would take the honey from the hives, that golden honey with itsheavenly taste. 

As she spoke, Paula with her lovely animated face, appeared to live againin her happy past, quite forgetful that she was now far away from herbeloved, sunny land of the Alps, where that dear father slept on thehillside, nevermore to return. 

I, of course, had been in the habit of hearing our mother speak of her homein the Alps with nothing but sighs and tears. It astonished me now to hearthis young creature so full of life and vigor and happiness speak of herold life in Waldensia. I had been preparing myself to console her andendeavor to make her happy and forget her past life of poverty. But now itwas quite the contrary. Here was Paula scattering happiness and love allaround her, entertaining us and making us laugh at her wonderful stories. 

Teresa came and went from one room to another opening boxes, finding here adress that Catalina could not wear any more, there an apron that had growntoo short for Rosa, and here again a pair of small shoes that would nodoubt fit our country cousin, with a black ribbon or two that had formerlyserved us in our time of mourning when mamma died. From her bed in theother room, Catalina listened, calling me at times to re-tell some of theconversation which she had missed, and Rosa wrote a letter to Louis to tellhim in detail all about Paula's arrival. 

Of course, we were all in high good humor, but I believe I was the happiestof all, for I certainly loved this newly-arrived cousin of mine and foundher a thousand times finer than I had even imagined. 

I said to her once without thinking, "Paula, were you very sorry when youlost your father?" Teresa looked at me threateningly, but it was too late!Paula had already heard me and her eyes filled with tears. I would havegiven a good deal if I could have recalled my thoughtless words. "Father isin heaven, " said this valiant, young daughter of his. "He suffered muchbefore he died, but now he is happy indeed! One day I shall go and be withhim there. "

Never had I heard such an astonishing statement. Suddenly Teresa exclaimed, her voice shaking with emotion, "Surely, thou art a daughter of the goodGod and our very beloved Paula!"

The three days that followed Paula's arrival were very happy ones for me. Igreatly wanted to take her to school with me, but my father thought thatfor a while she would be better in the house, where she could accustomherself to her new life and be with poor Catalina whose strength diminishedday by day. 

In the morning, and at dinner-time, and after school, and in the evening, we were always together. On my return from school, we took tea together outof doors. When I had finished my home-work, we would dig together in myportion of the garden, and then as the summer days were long ones, Teresawould let us play outside until bed-time. 

Of course, I showed Paula all our toys and dolls and the wonderfulillustrated books that had been given me from time to time by relatives andfriends. Paula was in ecstasies in this new world of books that openedbefore her. She touched my dolls one by one, looking at them with awe, examining their clothes, passing and repassing her fingers through theirhair and exclaimed, "Oh, how beautiful! Never have I seen such thingsbefore!" Paula in her turn, showed us her treasures. They were not verynumerous, but we could see our country cousin esteemed them very highly. With a trembling hand she untied a red-and-blue pocket-handkerchief, andwithout a word placed on the table a portrait, a little black-covered book, and some faded flowers. I took up the portrait. It was that of a young manwith smiling eyes, quite similar to those of Paula, and with that samekindness and sweetness in his face, so that it was not difficult torecognize who he might be. "It's my father, " said Paula quite simply. 

I wished at that moment I could have said something to comfort her but Icould not find a word to say. Sobbing, I embraced her, and I felt her hottears mingling with mine. 

"Don't let us cry any more, " she said presently. "My father has gone toheaven and my mother also. They are there with the Lord. Some day we shallgo and join them, and we shall be with them there forever; shall we not, Lisita?" "Yes, " I said, somewhat troubled. 

"See my flowers, " she said. "I picked them near our house in the morningjust before leaving. Do you not see? Here are forget-me-nots, pansies anddaisies. Poor little things! It is hard to recognize them, but I shall keepthem always, and when I return to Villar, I will carry them with me. " "Butyou will never return there, " I cried, "you are to stay with us always. Inever want you to leave us. "

"Well, don't worry about that, Lisita. When we grow up, you will go with meto my old home. Uncle Peter and the man that rented the farm from father, promised me never to leave the place until I grew up and returned. So Imade them a solemn promise that I would come back and take over the farmsome day. Perhaps the cows and the goats and the rabbits will all bedifferent when I go back. If you only knew how I cried when I kissed themall on coming away. They all know me so well. I wonder if they stillremember me. "

With a sigh, Paula put her flowers back carefully in the handkerchief, andthen passed over the little black book to me. "This is my Bible, " she said. "It was my father's for years, and he gave it to me on the day he died. See, he has written my name here on the first page. "

I was hardly able to decipher the shaky signature of our Uncle John, butfinally made out the following, "To PAULA JAVANEL A remembrance from her dying father. "

It was an old book with many loosened leaves. On each page were manyunderlined passages, some marked with pencil, others with ink, with smallneat comments in the margins. 

"This is my most precious treasure, " said Paula. "Father had it in hishands as he breathed his last. I promised him to read from it every day ofmy life, asking the Lord's help to understand what I read. Although Papa isno longer here, still I obey him. I try to remember all that he told me. Hewas a wonderful man, this dear father of mine, and how he did love theLord! My one desire is to be like him. "

"Yes, but you are only a girl yet, " I said to her. 

"That's true, Lisita, naturally I know that, but father used to say to me, 'You're not too small to serve the Lord, Paula!' I read the Bible with himmany times, and when we didn't have time to read it in the house, we tookit to the fields with us and read it as we rested. Then as I watched thecows and sheep, I read the Book alone. And now you and I can read ittogether; can we not, Lisita? And I know the Lord will help us to makeeverybody else happy around us. I've never had a sister, and now that yousay you wish to be my sister, my prayers are answered!"

Then after a pause, she said, "Why don't you answer me, Lisita?" And shelaid her head on my shoulder and fixed her great eyes upon me. How could Ianswer her! I had a great desire to tell her of the true situation. We allof us wished to be as good as possible, if that should please her, but wewould never be permitted to read the Bible. I knew father would neverconsent to that. Yet how could I tell her that things in our house were notas they were in hers--in that God was never mentioned! Then I remembered along discussion our old servant had had that very morning with my sisterson this subject, and Teresa had ended the matter by saying, "She's only alittle girl, anyway, and she'll soon become accustomed to do as we do. Besides your father will remember how she has been brought up, and he hastoo good a heart to make the poor child unhappy. Of course in the end thething will finally adjust itself. Poor little thing! How she would sufferif we should bluntly tell her the truth that we live here in this houselike a bunch of savages. "

As I searched my poor brain for a reply, Teresa without knowing it, came tomy help by calling me into the kitchen. Upon any other occasion, I wouldhave simply answered, without moving, "What do you want?" But now I wasonly too glad to obey her immediately and so put an end to a difficultsituation. "I'm going to town, " she said, as she put on a clean apron. "Perhaps you and Paula would like to come along. " "What a lark!" I cried, as I ran out to tell the glad news to Paula, and two minutes later we wereready. 

Teresa looked us over from head to foot, reminding us that the strings ofour shoes hadn't even been tied, that our faces and hands showed signs ofan all-too-hasty toilet, to say nothing of a lack of a comb in our hair. Finally, however, we were on the road to town, happy to find ourselves inthe cool shade of the long avenue of linden trees that stretched away inthe distance. What a joy it was to have at my side this new, wonderfulcompanion to whom I would be able to open the mysteries of the great shopsand public buildings--marvelous things which this simple country girl hadnever seen before in all her life. What could be greater happiness for anygirl of my age!

CHAPTER FIVE

LOUIS' WATCH

When Louis returned at the end of the week, he was surprised to find Paulaso happy and contented. He found her in the kitchen helping Teresa to drythe dishes. "One would think, " said he, "that you had been with us for manymonths instead of a few days. " Paula showed herself to be much moreembarrassed in his presence than she had been with us. It may have been theschool uniform that did it. But Louis, like the good-hearted lad that hewas, did what he could to make her feel at home. Presently, out we wentinto the garden to play, not without an anxious look from Teresa, for sheknew that when Louis came into any situation, he generally caused trouble. When, however, we returned with our aprons decorated with mud but stillhappy, the good old lady heaved a sigh of relief. The fact is, that whenLouis played with us he always acted as he did with the boys at school. Butno matter what happened, Paula seemed afraid of nothing. When it came torunning races, Louis found to his great chagrin, that she could even beathim at this; and in the other games if she happened to fall and hurtherself, she'd rub an injured knee with a laugh or sucked a stubbed fingerwithout further comment, and go on playing as if nothing had happened. Butin spite of entering wholeheartedly into all our fun, it was easy to seethat our servant had well named her, "The daughter of the good God!" Shewas always ready to step aside and let others take the first place, and toyield all her own rights, to recover a ball at whatever distance when adispute arose as to, "Who should get it?" or to look for a lost kite, nomatter how thick the brambles might be. No wonder Louis was quite contentto have such an accommodating companion!

Then the moment arrived when we must go back to the house. That fatal timealways seemed to arrive on the wings of the wind. Teresa seldom had anytime to come and call us, but she relied on Louis, as he had a watch. Beside all that, we could clearly hear the hour strike in the great clockon Darnetal Church. 

"Listen, " cried Paula, woefully, "it's nine o'clock, and Teresa said wemust go back to the house at nine. "

"Oh, shut up, " said Louis. (He had just started a thrilling new game ofjumping from a high wall. ) "I'll tell you when it's time to go home. Noware you ready? Hurry up, Paula, get the ladder. There it is, under thecherry-tree!" Paula obediently ran and returned with the required ladder, and helped Louis put it in position, saying at the same time, "But Louis, you know well that Teresa told us that we must be in at nine o'clock. "

"Oh, yes, I heard it, " said Louis ill-humoredly. 

"Well, then we must go!"

"Oh, not yet, five minutes more or less won't make any difference. "

"No, five minutes won't make any great difference, of course, " said Paulaslowly, "and it certainly is lovely here, but Teresa ordered us in at nineo'clock. I'll run and ask her if we cannot stay another fifteen minutes. "

"Certainly not, " sneered Louis. "Teresa would never give permission. Now, hurry up, you're first on the wall, Paula. "

"No, I'm not going to stay. Teresa will be angry. "

"No, no, never fear. Besides, she'll never know. I think she's out. "

"Well, she'll know when she returns. She'll ask us what time we came in. "

"Oh, you needn't worry about that, " and Louis took out his watch. "I canfix that matter easily. " We both looked over his shoulder at the watch, which by this time clearly pointed to five minutes after the hour. Suddenly, we saw the hands of the watch begin to turn backwards. "Now, "said Louis, "what time it is?"

"Half-past eight, " answered Paula, lifting astonished eyes to her cousin'sface. 

"Well, if it's half-past eight why do you look at me like that?"

"Because I don't understand. "

"What do you mean by saying you don't understand? It's all quite simple. IfTeresa is angry, I'll tell her that we left the garden at nine o'clock;then I'll show her my watch. "

"But, " cried Paula, quite upset, "that would be a lie!"

"Nonsense, you foolish youngster, that's not a lie. We'll go from here atthe dot of nine, according to my watch, and that's what I'll tell Teresa incase she asks us. Of course, if she doesn't ask us, we don't have to sayanything. Besides, I do it for you and Lisita, for if you were boys insteadof girls, there would be no reason to return so early. Now, up with you. Yes, or no. "

"Not I, " said Paula, with a heightened color. Louis was furious. 

"No, you say? Oh, " he laughed, "the wall's too high. " Paula looked at thewall. It was certainly high, but he knew very well from past exploits thatthe height would not bother her. 

"No, " she said, "I'm not afraid to jump. Over in Villar, when I had to tendthe goats, many a time I have had to jump from far greater heights thanthat to keep them from straying into our neighbor's pastures; but I tellyou now, we promised Teresa to return at nine o'clock, and I'm not going todisobey her. "

Then it was that I joined in on the side of Louis. "If you're always goingto obey Teresa, you'll never have a quiet moment. "

"Then are you, too, going to stay with Louis?" Paula asked sadly. 

"Of course, " cried Louis, without giving me time to reply. "And now, go ifyou wish and leave us in peace. Get out of the way!"

Paula, who was seated on the lowest rung of the ladder, immediately steppedaside and soon Louis was on the wall. 

"Now, it's your turn, " he called to me. I followed my brother as Paulaslowly moved away up the garden walk. 

"I'm going back with Paula, " I said to Louis. Then from the top of thewall, I saw her turn her head for one last look. 

"Oh, let her go!" said Louis. "She can find her own way. I'm afraid thelittle fool is going to become impossible. Now, do as I do. But be sure anddon't break your nose, for Teresa will blame me. "

"You jump first, " I said. 

"Getting afraid, are you? All right, see me jump. One, two, three!" anddown he went, in the middle of a pansy-bed, Teresa's especial pride and theobject of her particular care. 

"Oh, oh, " I cried, viewing the ruin that Louis had made. "Now, won't Teresabe angry indeed!"

"Well, why should I care?" said Louis. "Why did she have to put flowersalongside of a perfectly good wall like this? Now, hurry up and jump. We'llfix it up and water it, and she'll know nothing about what happened. "

"Oh, Louis, I'm afraid!"--Certainly the distance to the ground seemedenormous!

"What are you afraid of? I'll catch you if you fall. Don't be a'fraidcat!'" Just at that moment I would have done anything rather thanjump. 

"I'm coming down by the ladder. "

"No, you'll do no such thing! Now, come on; don't be a coward!"

Just at this moment we heard a voice calling, "Louis! Lisita!"

Louis turned to see Paula calling us from the bottom of the garden. 

"And now what do you want?" cried Louis. "I thought you had gone home. "

I profited by this diversion to come rapidly down the ladder. 

"I was almost at the house, " answered Paula, coming nearer, "but I didn'tgo in because I didn't want to meet Teresa. "

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't know what to say to her, if she should ask me where youtwo were. "

"Well, wouldn't you have told her the truth?"

"Of course, I would have had to tell her. That's why I've come back to lookfor you. I've run all the way. Oh, please, come now; won't you?"

My brother seemed to hesitate. 

"You know I hated to disobey, " added Paula, with tears in her eyes, "and atthe same time, I don't like to be a 'tattle-tale. ' Won't you please comehome now with me?"

Louis was a good-hearted lad in spite of his shortcomings. Therefore, seeing his young cousin beginning to cry, he said, "All right, let's go. Anyway, I can't play the way I want, especially with a pair of youngsterslike you two. But, look here, Paula, you forgot the ladder. Take it awaynow, if you want us to play up to all your nonsense. "

Paula, grabbing the ladder, simply said, "Oh, thank you so much, " as shedried her tears. I went meanwhile and filled the watering-pot while Louistried to restore the crushed pansies as best he could. 

"There you are, " said Louis finally, "Teresa will never know. " And off weall three raced for the house. 

"And so you are back already, " remarked Teresa as we invaded the kitchen. 

"Back already!" said Louis. "It's more than a quarter after nine, but if ithadn't been for the country cousin here, we'd have been a whole lot later. "

CHAPTER SIX

IN THE MIDST OF DARKNESS

My father had not had much time to pay attention to Paula since herarrival; for on his return from his long trip he had found the head of thefactory very sick. This had so increased his duties that he hardly had timein the morning to take a hurried cup of coffee, before going off to hiswork. In the evening, he always went to see Catalina for a few moments, andthen he shut himself in his room where he worked far into the night. 

It was, therefore, with a sigh of relief that he sat down at the familytable on Sunday morning to take breakfast with us children. 

"Now, then, Paula, " he said, turning to our cousin as Teresa served uscoffee, "you haven't told me how you like your new family?"

Paula colored a little as she said, "Oh, I love you all very much, unclemine. "

"Well, that's a happy reply, " said my father, "and we love you also, mylittle daughter. "

The coffee had been served. Paula had been with us four days and she knewthat we never asked the blessing; but she never dreamed that anyone wouldhinder her from following her own custom which she still continued at everymeal. Without any hesitation therefore, she repeated in front of my father, the words that had surprised us so at our very first meal. "The food whichwe receive, O Lord, may it be blessed in the name of the Father, and of theSon, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen. "

"What's that you say?" said my father, hardly giving her time to conclude. 

Paula, still on her feet, with her hands still joined for the prayer, fixedher great luminous eyes on my father. 

She was not smiling now, and I saw that she understood that somehow shemust have displeased him. 

"Answer me, " demanded my father. "What were you doing?"

"But . .. "

"Repeat those words of your prayer. "

Paula quietly obeyed. 

"Where did you learn that?"

"My father taught it to me. We always prayed before and after eating. "Paula said this with a trembling voice, trying to restrain her tears. 

"Listen to me, Paula, " my father said in a voice much less severe; "I don'twish you to imagine that I'm angry with you. In fact, I'm glad that youwant to remember your father and his words. That is all very well. But Isimply wish you to understand that in the future you are to conductyourself like the other members of my family. Do you understand, my littledaughter?"

"No, uncle, I don't. "

"No? Well, then, I must speak more plainly. Your cousins no doubt havealready told you that in this house I will permit no word relative toreligion. In the future that applies to you also. "

"But, uncle dear!"

"That will do. When you come to more mature years you will be able tounderstand my reasons, and if you should desire it at that time I will givethem to you. At present it is enough for you to know that you are not topray anymore. Hand me the morning paper, Rosa. "

We ate in silence, all except Paula who apparently couldn't swallow amouthful. Our father with his eyes buried in the paper, paid no moreattention to her. I had a great desire to cry without knowing why, for Icouldn't possibly understand why my father's warning should make Paula sounhappy. Father had not punished her, yet, nevertheless, to see her standthere with a mixture of grief and fright on her pale face, one would havethought that she had been threatened with a most terrible misfortune. 

Rosa and Louis made understanding signs to one another. Meanwhile todemonstrate my own sympathy, I tried to take my poor cousin's hand, but shewithdrew it, and I understood that it was useless to try to comfort her. 

"Uncle, " she cried suddenly, "oh, uncle mine, please pardon me but Icannot, cannot obey you. "

"What's this?" said my father, gazing at her with stupefaction and growinganger. Our surprise at this untoward daring of our young country cousin wasso great, that even Louis dropped his spoon and forgot to eat. 

We had disobeyed very often, especially Louis and I, and many times we hadbeen punished for it, for disobedience in my father's eyes was the greatestof all crimes; but never had we dared to defy him openly. 

"Paula, be quiet, " cried Rosa, fearing the terrible consequences of suchtemerity. 

To our great surprise, my father, in spite of his anger, remained calm. 

"So you don't wish to obey me, " he said, fixing Paula with a cold andsevere eye. "That's the first time I've ever heard such words from anychild in this house. Tell me, my daughter, what do you mean?"

"Oh, dear uncle, " she said, drawing quite close to father, "oh, oh, unclemine, don't be angry, please. I do wish to obey you in everything. Oh, yes, in everything, everything! I promised my father to be good and to show toeveryone that I am a daughter of the Lord Jesus. But, oh, uncle, I mustpray, and I must serve the Lord. My father told me so, and God Himselftells me so, for so it is written down in the Bible itself. "

"I think, " said my father, "you will find written in your Bible, thesewords, 'Children, obey your parents. ' And according to you, you ought toobey the Bible. "

"Yes, I know that well, those words truly are in the Bible, but papa toldme that I should always obey God, cost what it may. Oh, dear uncle, surelyyou wish to serve Him. The Lord died for us, and for this, of course, welove Him. And I thought that you loved Him too. I never knew that therewere people in this world who did not love God. Oh, please let me pray, dear uncle. I beg of you, I beg of you. Papa, my dear papa, oh, if heshould know that I could never pray anymore! I promised him I'd see him inheaven one day, and he'll be waiting for us there, waiting there for all ofus, you, and Lisita, and Rosa, and Catalina, and everybody. Oh, please, please let me pray!" And Paula put her head on my father's shoulder andsobbed as if her heart would break. 

"Oh, let her pray, father, " implored Rosa in a low voice. "She is so young, she'll soon forget. " We could all see that there was a great struggle in myfather's innermost self, as a tender look came in his eye, as if he wouldsay, "Don't cry any more. There, there! Pray if you wish. " But suddenly hiseye rested on us and the stern look returned. He had forgotten us. If hegave way to Paula now, how about the discipline of the rest of his family?Besides, if he permitted her to pray, what would hinder us also frominvoking that same holy Name? It was too much. 

"Listen, I tell you, " he said; "you must obey, and obey at once. This thinghas gone too far already. " The only reply that came was the sound ofPaula's crying. "There, there, " said my father, "Stop your crying. I knowyour religion perfectly, and once I was on the point of practising it, but, as I said before, your religion teaches obedience to those who are overyou. "

Paula raised her head, and amid her tears she said, "Listen, uncle dear, I'm only a little girl, and I don't know much, and I can't explain to youwhat I wish to say. I know well that it is my duty to obey you, and so myfather instructed me before he died, and when I disobeyed him, he punishedme, but in my father's case--" and here she hesitated. 

"Go on, go on, " said my father. 

"My father's will was also God's will. He used to say that he was myearthly father but that God was my heavenly Father, and that if he shoulddie, God was to be my Father forever. And no matter what happened, or whereI was, I must continue to serve God, no matter who endeavored to stop me. For it is written in God's Word, 'We should obey God, rather than men. '"

I saw my father go pale with anger. "You're an insolent girl!" he cried. "And I have a good mind to give you a good whipping, to teach you torespect your elders. "

Paula looked at him with surprise. "I don't understand, uncle. Those wordsare written in the New Testament. "

"Show them to me, " ordered my father. 

Paula, glad to escape for a moment, ran for her Bible, which was alwaysbeside her in our little bedroom. As she crossed the threshold, Teresaentered to carry away the dishes. "What now? What's the matter?" said theold servant as she looked at Paula's tearful face. "What on earth have youbeen crying about, poor child?"

My father answered for her. "She's been guilty of most incredibleimpertinence. "

"That's strange, " said the old servant. "That's not a bit like her, withher happy, humble ways with all of us. "

"That may be, " said my father, "but it's just as I feared. She's got allthe ideas of her father's family. She talks of nothing but God and theBible and of her religion, and that's insupportable in this house. "

"Oh, do go slow, sir, " Teresa implored. "She's a mere child yet. "

"Yes, but she must obey. "

Teresa contented herself with a shrug of her shoulders, for she saw that myfather was not going to yield. And now Paula had returned with her Bible inhand. 

"And now, " said my father, after a moment of silence, "let us see thosewords. Have you found them yet?"

Paula had paused, her hand turning over the pages of her Bible rapidly. "No, uncle, not yet, but I will find them soon. "

Again there was silence. Teresa had returned to the kitchen, the doorclosing with a bang to demonstrate her displeasure. Nothing could be heardbut the tick-tack of the clock, and the sound of the turning pages, asPaula, in spite of her tears, looked for the desired words. 

"Here it is, " she said at last, smiling in spite of her emotion. "See, uncle, here you are, at the fifth chapter of Acts, verse 29. "

"'We ought to obey God, rather than men!'" murmured my father two or threetimes, as he read the words of Holy Writ, while Paula looked at him withconfident eyes, even though a few tears still lingered. 

"Let us see, now, something of the context, " he added. "Oh, yes, here itis, " and he commenced to read aloud, "'And the high priest asked them saying, Did not we straitly command you that ye should not teach in this name? and, behold, ye have filled Jerusalem with your doctrine, and intend to bring this man's blood upon us. Then Peter and the other apostles answered and said, _We ought to obey God rather than men_. '"

Teresa, who had forgotten the tablecloth, came to get it, and smiled as shesaw that happiness had again returned to Paula's countenance; for nothingpleased the good woman more than to find everybody in the house happy. 

My father leaving certain directions relative to Catalina whom he had foundvery weak that morning, gathered up his papers, also the Bible, and startedto go out. 

"Uncle, " Paula reminded him timidly, "you've made a mistake. You arecarrying my Bible away with your papers. "

"Yes, that is true, but I've made no mistake. I'm keeping your Bible now. "

"And you will return it to me tonight, uncle?"

"And why tonight?"

"To read it, uncle, as I always do, every night. "

"Well, you're not going to read it any more! My children do not read theBible and they're not so bad. And I've already told you that from now on, you're going to live the same as all the other members of my family, ofwhich you now form a part!"

"Oh, uncle, uncle!" implored Paula, "please leave me that Bible! It is theBible my father gave me on his dying bed! Please let me have it, I prayyou, my dear uncle! I will be good, and I will give you everything that Ibrought here from Villar. But leave me my Bible, please! please! Leave memy Bible!" Paula sobbed, clinging to my father with a desperate courage. 

Teresa, who had viewed this scene with dismay, did not dare to interfere. She came and went, pretending to arrange things here and there in the room. 

For my part, I could not comprehend Paula's conduct, not being able toimagine why she should dare so much for her little old black book--I, whowould have exchanged all my books for a new doll; but I would have sufferedanything to help her now. And so in spite of all Teresa's signs for me tokeep quiet and sit down, I took my father by the sleeve and burst intotears saying, "Papa, please give it to her. "

My father turned and looked at me for an instant. Never had I seen him soangry. His face had become as white as a sheet. Suddenly throwing Paulaoff, who had been holding on to him on the other side, he raised the Bibleover her head and with a thundering voice, he threatened her. "Will youkeep quiet?" Paula appeared not to have heard him. 

"Oh, dear uncle, " she implored once more, extending her hands to secure hertreasured book, "oh, uncle. " In reply all I heard was a dull thud, and Isaw Paula fall to the ground. Beside himself, my father had given her atremendous blow on the head with the Bible. 

Teresa rushed toward the child and carried her into the kitchen, turning asshe did so toward my father "Have a care, sir, " she cried, her voicetrembling with indignation. "Mark my words, you will repent some day ofwhat you have just done. "

It appeared to me that my father had already repented. He took his hatwithout a word and went out, and did not return until the evening. 

 * * * * *

"What a shame that Paula isn't a boy, " said Louis, as soon as our fatherhad disappeared. 

"Why?" I asked. 

"Because she is so brave. Did you notice she stopped crying as soon asfather hit her? In her place, you would have been crying yet. "

"And you? How about yourself?"

"Oh, boys wouldn't cry for a little thing like that. I'm surprised, though, that father hit her. "

"I'm surprised too, " said Rosa, "but, of course, she must learn to obey. "

"I wonder what can be in this Bible of hers to make her love it so, "continued Louis. "Any way, what is a Bible? Is it a kind of a prayer-book?"

"No, " I said, proud that I knew so much, "it's not a prayer-book. At leastI have seen Paula pray in the morning and at night. She kneels and closesher eyes and prays, and does not use the Book at all during the time thatshe prays. She tells me that in the Book she learns how to be good and toserve God. Her father used to read it to her every day, and when he diedshe promised him to continue to read it. "

"Poor Paula!" sighed Rosa. "There is something mighty fine about her. Iwonder how all this is going to come out. "

"I think she'll die, " I said, trying hard to keep back the tears. 

"Nonsense, " said Louis, "she'll not die! Not she! Don't worry about that. In a few days she'll forget all about it. But I can't help feeling verysorry to see her so unhappy. Well, good-bye, Rosa. Don't cry anymore, Lisita. I'm going into the kitchen to see what's happened to poor Paula. "

I followed him out and we found the kitchen empty. I went to our room andfound Teresa seated on my bed with Paula on her lap. I heard Teresa say, "My treasure, don't cry any more! Don't afflict poor Teresa who loves youso, and who loved your mother before you. Now, come, come, my angel, thatwill do. You will make yourself sick. See, here comes Lisita also tocomfort you. "

But Paula continued crying, inconsolable, as she hid her face on the ampleshoulder of our old servant I came quite near her and stroked her hair, butI could not utter a word. 

"Papa! papa, " she called, time after time. 

"Your father's in heaven, " answered Teresa, taking her tenderly in herarms. "What would he think if he saw his little girl in such a state?"

"Oh, I only wish father had taken me with him! If I could only see him now!You see, I promised him to read my Bible and now I cannot, for my uncle hascarried away the only one I had--that wonderful Book that told me of God, and where my father had marked so many beautiful passages! Oh, papa, papa, do come! Your daughter needs you now!"

Teresa, finally seeing that it was useless to try to comfort her, limitedherself to drying the floods of tears that still continued to flow. Butfinally, thoroughly exhausted, Paula at last became calm and listenedtranquilly to Teresa's long story which we already knew so well, regardingthe death of our mother and Catalina's terrible fall. And following this, she showed her that on account of these great misfortunes, instead ofleading our father to seek the Lord, it seemed on the contrary to havehardened his heart. Thus he had become rebellious, and had made it anestablished rule in our home that not a word should be uttered relative tothe Supreme Being. Then she added, "But don't you believe that he does notcare for you! If you could know how many times he has said that you shouldlack nothing and should be treated as one of his own daughters. "

"That is certainly true, " said Rosa, who had entered during Teresa'snarrative. "Father appears severe, and this morning, of course, he becamevery angry, but he is very good-hearted after all. "

"I did not know, I did not know, " said Paula, as she bowed her head; "howmy poor uncle must have suffered!"

"Besides, " continued Teresa, "who can tell but what your uncle will beginto read your little--what is it you call it?--the Bible?"

"Do you think so? Oh, Teresa! Do you think he will read it himself?"

"Certainly I do, and why not? And when he has read it and found that it isa good book, I'm sure he will return it to you. So now, just calm yourselfand don't worry any more. "

"But, " questioned Paula, "do you mean to tell me that my uncle hasn't got aBible himself?"

"Yes, he had one once, but I imagine that he must have lost it, for it'smany years since I have seen the one that he had. "

"Oh, " exclaimed Paula, "what a wonderful thing if my uncle should read myBible. For I am sure that he will come to believe in God as my father did, and then he will let me have my precious Book back again. My father, too, passed through great affliction. My mother also died, and then my twosisters, all three in the same year. Father told me that by thus passingthrough the fire he had learned not to fix his eyes on the things of thisworld, but to find his happiness in God. I don't know how to explain itvery well, of course; but I did understand it fairly well when my fathertold me and showed me some of the precious passages in the Book that helpedme to understand. "

"I think I also understand, " murmured Teresa, drying her own eyes on theback of her sleeve, as she turned to Rosa. "Rosa, you claim to be verywise. Tell me, where can one buy a Bible?" Rosa smiled, and said, "I'm notvery sure, but I think in one of the book-shops one could find a Bible. Icould find out in school tomorrow. I know one of my schoolmates has one. "

"Good, " exclaimed Teresa, "you must find out tomorrow morning. I've got anidea, Paula, a wonderful idea, so dry your tears. I must go tomorrowafternoon to the city, and if Rosa can find out tomorrow morning where aBible can be found, we shall all four of us go and buy a new Bible there, and you can read it in your room and your uncle will never know. "

"Oh, Teresa, " cried Paula in a burst of gratitude, "what a good woman youare!"

"That's something I've never yet found out, " said the old servant with adry smile. 

Then suddenly we all saw that something had begun to trouble Paula. "What'sthe matter now?" said Rosa. "Are you not content to get a new Bible?"

"Oh, yes, " said Paula, "but under such circumstances that would deceive myuncle. "

It was here that Teresa broke in. "No, no, " she said, "you don'tunderstand. I'm going to buy this Bible with my own money, and I can do asI please. If I care to buy a Bible, it's no one else's business. "

But there was trouble in Paula's eyes as she said, "I would certainly liketo have a Bible, but uncle has forbidden me to read it. I can see from whatyou say that it would be easy for you to buy another and read ityourselves, but my uncle has prohibited me and that settles it. I simplycan't be a hypocrite and deceive him. Dear Teresa, I do certainly thank youfrom the bottom of my heart, but, you see, you had forgotten what unclesaid. Now, listen, the Lord Jesus is going to help me! There are manybeautiful passages of the Bible that I know by heart, and there are plentyof the Bible stories that I'll never forget. All these I will keep in mymemory, and then besides I shall pray every day for my uncle, that he'llsoon return my precious Bible to me, and give me permission to read it. Iknow the Lord will hear me, if I obey Him and pray with faith. Dear Teresa, I hope you're not going to be provoked with me. "

"And why should I be, my precious treasure?"

"Well, just because I didn't want you to buy me a Bible. "

"No, no, dear, no; you certainly are right, and a whole lot better than weare. " And we, together with our old servant, could not help admiring thehonesty of our sturdy country cousin. 

"Teresa!" It was Paula who broke the silence that followed the abovediscussion. 

"What now, Paula?"

"Will you pray for me?"

"I, " said the astonished Teresa. 

"Yes, please, Teresa dear. "

"My poor little Paula, I never pray for myself, so how could I pray foryou?"

Poor Paula seemed at a loss. "Well, you see, " she said, hesitatingly in atrembling voice, "I'm afraid to do it. You see, I don't dare to forgetGod. "

And so our good Teresa, in order to satisfy the poor child, promised topray for her that very night. 

"No, " insisted Paula, "let's pray now. "

Our poor servant looked around her in dismay. 

"I--! I pray here! In front of you and Lisita and Rosa! Never--! Besides, Iwouldn't know what to say. "

"Do you mean to say that you don't know, 'Our Father which art in heaven?'"

"Perhaps, but it's some time since I've repeated that prayer. I remember mypoor mother. I used to kneel beside her and repeat it when I was your age. Once in a while since then, I have said my 'paternoster. ' But it's beenmany years since it's passed my lips, and I haven't even thought of it forages. No, no; it's useless. No, Paula, you pray for us. We certainly needit, but as for me praying--a poor sinner like me--I tell you it's useless. "

But Paula was not easily discouraged. 

"Teresa, " and Paula put her cheek against the wrinkled one of our oldservant, "you know that Jesus died for us, and do you mean to say, notwithstanding that, you are living like a heathen. "

"What's that you say? Like a heathen?" cried poor Teresa. 

"Yes, Teresa dear, like a heathen. My father used to read me missionarystories on Sunday, and in these stories I always noticed that the heathenpeople live without praying to God, and that they didn't read the Bible, and that they didn't know how to sing any hymns, and they had no church togo to, that is, until the missionaries came. But we are different here inthis house from the heathen because they had never heard of God. " And thenshe added with one of those lovely smiles that always seemed to spread ahalo over her, "All the heathen in the pictures that I saw had black skins, whereas you, Teresa, have such a lovely white face. "

Poor Teresa, placed her well-worn hands over her wrinkled countenance, andsaid, "Paula, Paula, you certainly are right. So we are even less worthy ofGod's mercy than they are. "

Paula looked at her for a moment in silence and then, kneeling down besideher, said, "Teresa, you just pray with me, won't you? I know the Lord Jesuswill pardon you, and He'll help you to love Him for He has promised to giveyou a new heart. I'm only a little girl, but He helps me and He hears mewhen I pray, for that's what He has promised, Teresa. Once my father taughtme a beautiful verse, and when my uncle returns my Bible, I'll show it toyou, but this is what it says, 'Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wisecast out. '"

Poor Teresa, with her head hidden in her hands, could not reply. 

"Do come and kneel with me, " insisted Paula, pulling her by her apron. After a long silence suddenly Teresa fell heavily on her knees beside thebed. Paula up to this moment appeared to have forgotten the rest of us, butnow taking both of us by the hand she invited us to kneel also. 

"No, " said Rosa, with an offended air, "I'll do no such thing. "

"Nor will I. " I said, a bit intimidated by my sister's refusal. 

And so Teresa and Paula kneeled together, "'Our Father which art inHeaven, '" commenced the clear voice of Paula. Slowly came the repetition, 'Our Father which art in Heaven, ' and poor Teresa's deep voice trembledwith emotion. 

"'Hallowed be Thy name'"

"'Hallowed be Thy name. '"

And now Teresa, gathering fresh courage, as the words of the great prayerbegan to return to her memory, the voices now mingled in the same majesticwords from, oh, such different hearts--the one, pure and confiding, and theother now contrite and penitent. 

Then, as they finished, Paula continued, "Lord Jesus, be pleased to blessmy uncle, Teresa, Catalina, Rosa, Lisita and Louis. Oh, bless them, Lord, and help them all to come to Thee. And bless me, also, and give me of Thygoodness, for Thy name's sake, Amen. "

"So may it be, " sighed poor Teresa. 

Paula opened her eyes, but closed them again as she saw that Teresa had notmoved, and that she was struggling to add a prayer of her own. Then finallyit came. 

"Oh, my God, my God, " murmured poor Teresa. "If you can have pity on a poorsinful woman like me, that has forgotten Thee for so many years, be pleasedto pardon me, and change my poor wicked heart, in the name of Thy Son, Jesus Christ, Amen. "

 * * * * *

For a good while after that, Teresa made no allusion whatever to what hadtranspired in our little bedroom on that first Sunday after Paula'sarrival; but we noticed a great change in her conduct She did not workharder--that would have been impossible--neither was she more unselfish, for a more unselfish person than our dear old servant would have been hardto find. But the thing we began to notice was that she was more patient andtender in her dealings with us children, and more charitable toward thegreat number of our poor neighbors, who would come to the door from time totime to "borrow" food--these poor, miserable neighbors whom she haddespised on account of their laziness and untidiness. Beside all this, wesaw no more of her days of bad humor and fretfulness. For instance, shetreated our father with much more respect and listened without argument orimpatience when, at times, he was unjust in his criticism of the housearrangements. Then we noticed also that all her little lies with which shetried to frighten us at times had completely disappeared. 

In the cottages of our poor neighbors, there had existed an atmosphere ofdiscouragement and desperation, brought on of course, through poverty anddrink, and it was here that our good Teresa began to be known as averitable friend. As she passed from door to door giving a word ofencouragement here, or taking the burden temporarily from the shoulders ofa poor tired mother there, we began to notice the under-current of a happychange in the atmosphere of these poor and destitute ones around us. It waseasy to imagine that Teresa might be the cause of the change. 

 * * * * *

The day following the above-mentioned Sunday, Rosa was sitting by thebedside of Catalina who complained of her usual headache, and Teresa hadgone out on an errand. 

Paula, a bit exhausted with her emotions of the day before, appeared tohave lost all animation, but soon her naturally happy nature asserteditself, and by the time my father returned from his work, she ran to meethim and opened the door as he entered, embracing him as if nothing hadhappened. 

"Well, well, " said my father, "I'm glad to see that you have recovered yourgood humor, Paula. " A frank smile passed over Paula's face, but she saidnothing. "And how has Catalina been today?" he said, turning to me. 

"She has a terrible headache. Teresa is afraid she's going to be sickagain. "

"Poor girl! We must be especially careful then not to make any noise, " andhe turned to go into Catalina's room, but Paula detained him. 

"Please, uncle, have you pardoned me?"

"What for, child?"

"For what occurred yesterday. Surely you remember, uncle. I was a bitstubborn about giving up my Bible. "

My father looked down at her, surprised. "And now, you're perfectly willingthat I keep it?"

"Oh, yes, of course, for I did not at all understand. Teresa tells me thatyou had no Bible, and you see I didn't know that. And she said that afteryou had read it, you would of course be giving it back to me. I am so sorrythat I appeared so selfish. Please, pardon me, won't you, uncle dear?"

"I've already pardoned you, so don't worry about that. So you like to readyour Bible?"

"Oh, yes; indeed I do, uncle. "

"Well, perhaps some day I'll return it to you. "

It was not exactly a promise, but Paula was willing to content herself withthat much. 

"Oh, thank you, thank you so much, uncle, " said Paula as she embraced him. 

"And so you love me a little, do you? In spite of everything?" asked myfather smiling, as he took hold of her chin and turned her face up towardhis. 

"Oh, yes, indeed; you don't know how much!"

"You do?" said my father. "Well, that certainly gives me great pleasure. Isee that soon we shall come to understand one another, you and I. By theway, I noticed that in your Bible there were quite a number of dry flowers. If you would like them, I will return them to you immediately. "

"Oh, many thanks, uncle. I kept them there as remembrances of my father. Ishall keep them in some book where I can look at them often--often!"

"That's what I thought, my little daughter. I'll go and get your Bible, andyou yourself shall take them out. "

But now Paula seemed to have a different idea. "No, I think that I preferthat they remain where they are, " she said in an altered voice. 

"What's that you say?" exclaimed my father, astonished. "How is it that youhave so suddenly changed your mind?"

"Well, you see, " explained Paula, trembling a bit, "they'd better remainwhere they are, for I love my Bible, and I've read it every day, and now ifI saw it again, I'm afraid--I'm afraid--" and poor Paula's lip wastrembling. 

"I understand, I understand, " said my father. 

But on turning to go into Catalina's room, he hesitated with his hand onthe latch of the door, and turning, he looked searchingly at Paula, as ifhe would know the secret of the innermost heart of this child, so loving, so angelic, and yet so absolutely natural. 

CHAPTER SEVEN

CATALINA'S ILLNESS

Teresa had not been mistaken. Catalina became so critically ill during thefollowing week, that my father lost all hope of her recovery. Not beingable to be with her during the day, he watched at her bedside during thegreater part of the night, and if it had not been for Teresa, who compelledhim to go and take some rest, he would have, undoubtedly, suffered acollapse himself. How long those days appeared to be in spite of the happycompanionship that I had found with my dear cousin Paula! My father hardlynoticed us, absorbed as he was with the fear that filled his heart, andTeresa was occupied with so many tasks that she had no time for us either. 

Rosa had to leave school in order to help nurse the sick one, and Paulaalso was required to stay home until the afternoon session. As for me, Iwas packed off to school in the morning, carrying my lunch in a littlebasket, fearing each night as I came back to the house that I would receivebad news as to Catalina. My! What grand resolutions for the future I madeduring those sad days--to try to love my poor sick sister, and to treat herbetter than I had done, should she recover. 

One afternoon, I was surprised to find my father at home. It was only aboutfive o'clock and he generally did not return from work until eight. Heseemed so sad and depressed that I dared not embrace him as was our custom. Teresa crossed the dining-room and gave me her usual warning. "Don't makeany noise, Lisita. Go and sit down and be quiet"

"Teresa, " said my father in a low voice, "do you think Catalina would beable to see the children?"'

"Why do you ask that, sir?" she said. 

"I would like them to see her that she may embrace them for the last time. You know what the doctor said. "

"Oh, those doctors!" said Teresa in a scornful tone. "The doctors don'tknow what they're talking about. Don't lose hope, sir. I know that Catalinamay not live to be very old, but if God wills her to live, she will do soin spite of the doctors. "

"Yes, but you know how weak she is. She never will be able to survive somany complications. And yet, how can I bear such affliction? She reminds meso much of her mother, the same voice, the same blue eyes, and even heridentical way of smiling. And now to follow this child to the cemetery andreturn to the house where she will never be any more. Oh, what shall I do!What shall I do!"

"Why don't you consult the Great Physician, sir?"

"What do you mean by 'the Great Physician?'"

"I mean the Lord Jesus. Deliver Catalina into His hands. When He walkedthis earth, all the sick ones were brought to Him and He healed them all. "

"But He's no longer on the earth. "

"No; but His power is the same today as it was then. "

"Teresa, do you pray nowadays?"

"Yes, sir, I do. "

"When did you begin to pray?"

"From the time that Paula entered the house, sir. "

"I suspected that. "

"Now, please don't go and rebuke her, sir. If you only knew how she lovesyou, and how she prays for you and Catalina. Oh, sir, how many times shehas made me blush for shame. "

"How so, my good Teresa?"

"That's a fact, sir. I used to think to myself, 'You're a pretty goodwoman, you have suffered much in your life, you work hard, you don't do anyharm to anybody, surely you will go to heaven. ' But when I saw Paula andthe reality of her religion, and how she loved God, oh, then, sir, Icomprehended for the first time in my life that I was a sinner worthy ofhell, and I prayed to God that He would pardon me. "

"And--did He do it?"

"The Saviour assures us, sir, that 'He that cometh to Him, He will in nowise cast out. ' So I dare to believe that He has pardoned me" Teresa waspale with emotion. It was the first time that she had confessed the Lordbefore men, and it cost her a good deal to do so to my father. He wasapparently too depressed to be angry. After a moment of silence he said, "Where is Paula?"

"I sent her to the drug store, sir, to get certain medicines that thedoctor ordered. "

"When she returns, send her to Catalina's room. I shall remain there until, until--" My poor father could not conclude the sentence. 

Then turning to me, "When Paula returns I wish you to come in to Catalina'sroom also, Lisita. "

"Yes, father, " I answered him in a low voice. 

A quarter of an hour later Paula returned. Never shall I forget the anguishand terror that I experienced when Teresa, warning us to be quiet, led theway to the bedside of my dying sister. 

Catalina did not appear to notice our entrance. Her eyes were closed, andher face so pale that I believed her already dead, but my father made signsto us to draw a little nearer and putting his hand over the forehead of mypoor sister, he called to her gently, in a voice that betrayed greatanguish. 

"Catalina, Lisita and Paula have come to visit you. Would you not like toembrace them?"

"Lisita . .. Paula . .. " I heard Catalina murmur in a far-away voice. "Ah, yes, I remember. Help me up, father. " My father lifted the poor thin bodyof his daughter. In spite of all I could do, I could not keep from crying, thinking that it would be the last time that I would embrace my big sister, whom I had loved so little. She looked at us for a long while, and thensaid calmly, "Have you two come to say good-bye to me?"

"No, no, " said my father; "we hope that . .. "

"No, father, I'm dying. I know that well. It is useless to keep it from me. Think of it, only eighteen years old, and yet I've been of no use toanybody, and nobody's going to miss me very much. "

"Catalina, " exclaimed my father, "do not speak so. You hurt me talking thatway, and you make Lisita and Paula cry. "

"Are you really crying, Lisita?" And Catalina turned her feverish eyestoward me. "How strange! I have not been a very good sister to you, and Ialways thought you didn't care for me. "

"Oh, Catalina, " I exclaimed, kneeling beside the bed, "please don't die. Ido love you so. I promise to come and care for you every day and I'll nevermake another noise while you are sick. I will be always good to you, indeed--even when you're bad-humored. Please don't die. " And then I sobbedwith such violence that my father, fearing that such conduct would cut evenshorter that parting life upon the bed, asked Teresa to take me away. 

But Catalina said, "Let her alone, father. It really does me good to seeher cry. I never dreamed that Lisita had any heart at all. But I see nowthat it has been all my fault. If I had only been a bit better-temperedwith her, she would have shown me a little more affection. Rosa, give me alittle water, please. " And Rosa placed a teaspoonful of water between thelips of our poor sister. 

"Are you quite bad, my daughter?" asked my father. 

For some minutes, Catalina could not reply, but finally she said, "Lisita, don't cry any more, please. Now, listen. "

I tried to calm myself. 

"We need to ask each other's pardon, my poor little sister, " she said. 

"Now kiss me. Tell me that you forgive me. "

"Oh, yes, indeed, I do forgive you, " I answered, "from the bottom of myheart. It is I who have been wicked, whereas you have been so very, verysick, while I enjoy such good health. "

"Yes, that's true, " said Catalina, "but I'm older, and I should have shownyou a better example. I had always thought of myself and now--it's too lateto change! Come, dear Lisita, come and kiss me once more. "

I could have wished to have stayed there on my knees for hours and hide myhead with shame and tears, but I didn't dare refuse to show this last signof affection for Catalina. So I laid my hot cheek against that of mysister, toying to bid her good-bye, and her tears mingled with mine. 

When Paula's turn came, Catalina was so exhausted that she could hardly saya word. But finally, she said, "You will take my place at father's side, Paula. Father, I'm dying. Paula will take my place, and I know she will bea better daughter that I could have ever been. "

Her strength was going rapidly and we could hardly hear her words. And nowmy father softly put her back on the pillows and motioned us to retire. 

Exhausted by remorse and grief, I threw myself on my bed and continuedcrying until at last I fell into a heavy sleep. 

 * * * * *

During the week that followed, Catalina hovered between life and death andgood old Dr. Lebon came and went two or three times a day. Teresa neverwent to bed, but took short cat-naps in her chair at times, as best shecould, and my father made very rare and short visits to his office, bringing a good part of his work home with him. 

Rosa now replaced Teresa, either in the kitchen or at the bedside of theinvalid, as the case might be. And I continued at school where, thanks tothe fears that filled my heart, I was a model of good conduct. 

Paula had quickly learned to make herself useful. She lacked experience ina house like ours, but her willingness and cheerfulness more than made upfor the clumsiness of her hands as she would say to Teresa, "Let me dothat, dear Teresa; you are so tired, and you have so much work now. "Teresa, accustomed as she was to perform everything herself, hesitated alittle at first; but Paula would look at her in such a beseeching way thatshe generally yielded to her. 

From the time that Catalina fell ill, Rosa had to make all the purchases intown, and this was not a small thing, for the distance from the old Conventto the city was considerable. At times Paula was allowed to go with her. "Why don't you let me go alone to the city?" Paula said to her. "If you didnot have to go out, you could help Teresa so much more in caring forCatalina. "

"That's true; but you couldn't go alone to the city. You'd get lost!"

"No, no, never fear such a thing. Let me go, and I'll have not a bit oftrouble finding my way back. " And Rosa, like Teresa, at last yielded to herpleading. 

"How is Catalina now?" was my first question on returning from school. 

"Always the same, " Paula would say. 

"Do you think, Paula, she'll ever get well?"

"That I don't know, Lisita. But I believe she will. Teresa prays for her, and so do I. God is able to heal all the sick people. You know that; don'tyou, Lisita?"

And then, as she thought of the dear sick one that the Lord had not healed, whose body was lying in the faraway Waldensian valley she added, "I knowthe Lord did not heal my father, but then, you know, he was _prepared_ togo. "

"What do you mean 'prepared'?" I said, a bit puzzled. 

"Oh, I mean to say that my father had given his heart to the Lord Jesus, and so he was _ready_ to go to heaven. "

"I suppose it is very difficult to prepare one's self for heaven, " I saidguardedly. 

"Oh, no, " said Paula. "If we ask the Lord Jesus to give us a new heart, Healways does so. "

"What do you think, " I said, "has Catalina received a new heart?"

"I don't know, " and Paula hesitated, "but I don't think so. She tormentsherself so, and seems so afraid to die. "

"Oh, Paula, how I wish she would get well! Before she became so ill, Ididn't care for her a bit, and I believe she didn't care for me either. Butafter having said good-bye to her that afternoon, I certainly do love her. Poor Catalina! In the middle of the school session, many times it comes tome, 'Suppose that Catalina should die today!' Then I do not seem to be ableto pay any more attention to the lessons. It seems as if Catalina wasthere, dead in her bed, and I hardly dare to come home. If I had not beenso wicked to her before she became so ill, I know I would not feel so. "

"Now listen, Lisita! This is what you ought to do. You ought to ask theLord Jesus to heal Catalina. "

"He'd never do it for me, " I said. 

"And why not?" asked Paula. 

"Because I'm sure God doesn't hear the prayers of wicked people. "

For a while Paula did not answer me. I saw that she was thinking about whatI had just said. Suddenly, a ray of happiness illumined the dear face withits great dark eyes, as-she exclaimed, "Yes, He does hear wicked people. "

"How do you know that?" I said. 

"Because when Jesus Christ hung on the cross, one of the robbers asked Himto remember him when He came into His kingdom, and the Lord promised to doso. "

"Well, then, " I murmured, "perhaps the Lord might hear me also. "

Paula turned about and faced me. "But, my dear Lisita, you're not wicked. "

"Most certainly I am, " said I. 

"No, no, you're not that bad, and if you wish to be my sister, you willlove the Lord Jesus, and you love Him now with all your heart; do you not, Lisita! I don't like to hear you say that you're wicked, for you are a goodgirl, and I love you dearly, Lisita!"

I? I? Good! I stared at my cousin. At any rate I knew that that very night, for the first time in my life, I was going to pray to the good Lord beforeI slept. Teresa had come in to say good-night and put out the light. Ihadn't the courage to get up and kneel beside the bed as Paula did, but Ijoined my hands in prayer and closed my eyes as she had done, and with myhead buried in the pillow, I murmured, "Oh, my God, I've never askedanything of You, and I wouldn't have dared to have said a word to Youtonight if Paula had not said that You heard the prayers even of wickedpenitent ones like me. My God, I ask You to heal my sister Catalina, and Iask it with all my heart I haven't been very good to her, and I'm verysorry, and I'm going to be better from now on. My God, please let her live, and if she gets well, I promise You now to do all my lessons faithfully fora whole week. And so I thank you ahead of time, Amen. "

 * * * * *

Two days later Catalina was out of danger! It was my father who told me thegood news on my return from school. "Oh, how happy, how happy I am, father!" I cried as I danced for joy. 

"No more than I am, my daughter, " he answered gravely. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE FIVE-FRANC PIECE

Catalina recovered slowly and seemed to constantly desire Paula's company. In the afternoon, on returning from school, I would find her by thebedside, always happy, always smiling, with the complete forgetfulness ofself that had always been such a wonder to me. 

A new gentleness seemed to come over my father as the days passed, and Inoticed that he always seemed to observe Paula with a sort of puzzled air. 

Paula, too, seemed to change. That little Alpine flower, accustomed to thepure mountain air of her beloved country, naturally could not betransplanted from her native soil without some damage, and besides, thatsensitive conscience of hers always seemed to be in a struggle betweenobedience to her God and her duty towards my father. 

"That girl is nothing more or less than stubborn, " I heard my father sayone day to Teresa; which remark our old servant answered with a grimacebehind his back. 

One day, Teresa with an air of triumph, showed us a New Testament on herreturn from town. Paula took it from her hand for a moment, and thenreturned it to our old servant after caressing the shining cover with greattenderness. 

"Take it, " said Teresa, "it's not only mine, but yours, and you will havemore time to read it than I will. "

"No, Teresa dear, " and Paula sighed as she put her hands behind her back. "I know I'll get my Bible some day. That's what I've asked God for, and Iknow He answers prayer. "

A little later, Paula said to me, "I certainly would have loved that NewTestament, for there are two or three favorite passages with which I wouldlike to refresh my memory, but I simply can't deceive my uncle. But what amI going to do, Lisita? I must never forget what I promised papa when hedied. " (Never forget, never forget! was Paula's constant preoccupation. )

But in spite of these problems which seemed to confront her, her perfectfaith in God came to her aid, and seemed to give her wisdom to take theright road through it all. At times I would surprise her on her knees withher eyes closed and a certain strange indefinable light on her tear-stainedface. Immediately however as she sensed my presence, she would spring toher feet and I found the same natural happy creature that I delighted tocall my companion. It was not in vain that she prayed! Her God, whom shehad not ceased to serve in the midst of the worldly atmosphere thatsurrounded her, seemed to come to comfort and strengthen her. 

Away off here in Villar, the little orphan was not forgotten. One day, toher great excitement, Paula received a letter, directed personally to her, from someone from her own beloved land. 

"What beautiful writing!" exclaimed Rosa. "Who could it be from?"

"I think it must be from my god-mother, " responded Paula, trembling withemotion. "Oh, do give me the letter, Rosa. "

Rosa, always full of fun, pretended to keep the letter, to the dismay ofour small cousin, who didn't always see through our jokes, but finallyyielded to her entreaties. 

"Wouldn't you like to read it to us, Rosa?" asked Paula, tearing open theenvelope. "I find it much harder to read writing than printing. "

Rosa was only too glad to learn the secrets contained in such an unusualcommunication. And so this is what we heard as she read:

"My dear god-daughter: I cannot tell you how dismayed I was on my returnfrom Geneva to learn of the death of thy father. I know he is at peace inheaven, happy at the side of the Lord he so dearly loved. But it is forthee that my heart was torn with anguish. Canst thou imagine the pain thatfilled it when I found on my return to Villar, that both of you had gonefrom me?

"The Pastor in the village told me that thou hadst gone to your uncle'shouse in Normandy, and that thou wert well-cared for. But oh, how I wouldhave wished to have kept thee with me. But thou knowest, that for me, thatwould have been impossible, having to care for my old father and mother, aswell as pay off their debts. I know, however, with the help of God, someday I shall be free. Then we shall return to buy the little farm where myfather made us such a happy home, and at that time I trust that thou wiltcome back and live with me--but then, I suppose thou wilt have become agreat lady, and wilt not be content to come back to such a simple life withan obscure country woman (although I really don't believe that). "

"Oh, no, no, no!" suddenly interrupted Paula. "Godmother knows very wellthat I shall never forget the happy life in Villar. "

"Then, you will go back there?" inquired Rosa. 

"Of course. Why not?" and Paula looked quite surprised. 

"What's that you say? You would leave all of us who love you so?"

"Oh, no indeed, you shall all come with me, " responded Paula, who generallyhad a way of solving every difficulty. 

Rosa smiled and returned to her reading. 

"I have just been to see the grave of thy dear father where I planted somehardy white roses which will stand the winter winds. I went also to theneighboring village of Endroit where thou usedst to visit the poor, andimmediately I was surrounded by thy friends. Papa Pierre Vigne especiallysends his love. They all spoke of thee and called down blessings on thyhead, especially that thou mightst be a witness for the Lord in thy newhome. Mama Vigne recalled the time when thou visitedst her when she was sosick, and how happy thou madest her when thou didst sing those beautifulhymns to her. I believe, my dear one, that if thou shouldst write her a fewlines, it would be like letting in a little heaven on her simple life, asshe would thus see that the daughter of their best friend is thinking stillof those whom she used to make happy by her heavenly presence. All thosethat have known thee and know that I am writing send kisses and lovingremembrances. Many persons have asked that thou shouldst pray for them. They love thee so and miss thy presence, my dear, dear god-daughter!Continue, Paula, always to be obedient. Love everybody, and above all else, the God of thy father who awaits thee in heaven. Love not the world nor thethings that are in the world. Be thou a valiant soldier, faithful untodeath, and Christ shall give thee the crown of life, for He will neverforget thee, and neither do we in this far-off valley, nor thy good deedswhich thou hast done amongst us. And now, may God bless thee and keep theesafe in His hands. .. . Thy loving godmother, Evangelina, who prays forthee. "

Paula, overcome by emotion, buried her face on Rosa's shoulder. 

"Wait a minute, " said Rosa, "don't cry. Here is something more. "

Paula dried her eyes and listened intently as Rosa continued, "P. S. I amsending thee five francs by money order which you can redeem at your postoffice. Buy something with it by which to remember me. "

"Five francs!" repeated Paula, with astonishment now instead of tears onher face, "Are you sure?"

"Of course. See. Here is the money order. "

Paula, who never in her life had owned a single cent, could hardly believethat she was the possessor of so much riches!

Her godmother's letter was, of course, a tremendous event for all of us. Rosa had to read it over and over many times, and it seemed as if Paulawished to learn it by heart. Even my father read it with great attentionand appeared quite pleased. Teresa declared that "The god-mother was surelya 'très comme il faut, '" but she did not explain to us why. 

One thing however displeased Teresa--the eagerness with which Paulaimmediately planned to spend all her money. 

"How now!" she exclaimed, "Is it burning a hole in your pocket? I shouldthink a little girl like you would prefer to keep the money. "

"Keep it?" said Paula. "Why should I keep it?"

But the next day, when Teresa announced that she was going to the city, sheinvited us both to come along. "What are _you_ going to buy?" she askedPaula. 

"Oh, so many things. You shall see!"

And the "things" which we "saw" were certainly a great surprise to us. First we went to the book-shop where a number of souvenir cards werepurchased to send back to Villar. From there, on passing a window filledwith fruit, Paula exclaimed, "Oh, my, Catalina certainly does love grapes. I must get her some. "

"Grapes!" said Teresa. "Look at the price, you silly child. "

"Never mind. I'm rich this afternoon. "

"Well, you won't be rich long, if you make many purchases like that!"

But Paula would not be satisfied until a great bunch of the luscious fruitwas safely stowed away in Teresa's bag, destined for Catalina. Havingarrived in front of a stationer's shop, two pencils went into the bag, onefor Rosa and the other for Louis. 

"And aren't you going to get anything for yourself?" said Teresa, with aquizzical grin. 

"Oh, you shall see, " laughed Paula. "Besides, you know, Teresa, I've goteverything I need, and a good deal more. "

But now a present for my father was the next object for discussion. "Mendon't need presents, " said Teresa impatiently. 

But Paula did not agree with her. "I know, " she cried at last, "I rememberwhat he said yesterday that his coffee cup was too small. Let's get him abig one. " So off to the china-shop we went, where a huge blue cup decoratedwith flowers of extraordinary size depleted Paula's treasure by a wholefranc. I began to ask myself whether I was going to have any part inPaula's generosity. But on passing a certain bazaar where a myriad ofthings were sold, I saw Paula make signs that Teresa seemed to understand. Contrary to her custom Teresa entered alone, telling us to walk on a bitand she would join us soon. 

"And now, " said Paula, "we must buy an apron for Teresa, while she's notlooking. Where shall we go?"

"I think it would be better to let her choose one, and anyway, Teresa willsoon be out of the bazaar and will be looking for us. "

"Oh, my, no! This has got to be a surprise!"

"Yes, I know. But how are we going to work it?"

A moment later, however, Paula discovered a way, a bit risky perhaps, butthe circumstances seemed to justify the means. 

Teresa, suspecting that Paula's generosity would extend to her, and wishingto avoid that, watched us both carefully; but when all the purchasesappeared to be completed, the good woman occupied herself with buyingprovisions for the house, which of course entailed considerable discussionas to price, etc. It was then that Paula had her chance. 

"Now's our time, " she said to me in a low voice. 

I followed her without delay. Teresa, meanwhile, argued the price of butterand cheese with an old school-friend, now elevated to proprietorship of theshop, and we knew that this would take at least a quarter-of-an-hour. Wesoon arrived at a place where they sold novelties, and where the clerkswere about ready to close for the night. 

"Oh, sir, " cried Paula, to one of the young men, "will you not pleaseattend to me? I'm in a great hurry. "

"So, you're in a hurry, " said the young man jovially. 

"Yes, you see, we've run away and we've--"

"Wait a minute, " said the young man, and he appeared to grow suddenly grave"This is quite serious. Who have you run away from?"

"Oh, it's only Teresa across the street, and this must be a surprise forher. Will you please show me an apron?"

So the young man, without further ado, hauled down a number of thosearticles for inspection. "There you are. Take your pick. "

Paula gave one look, "Oh, no; not that kind, " she said with a consternationwhich I shared, seeing in imagination old Teresa with her great woodenshoes and her long skirts adorned with one of these elegant articles of thelatest fashion. 

"No? Don't you like these?" questioned the clerk. 

"Oh, no, " said Paula. "You see, it's for Teresa. "

"And, pray, who is Teresa?"

Paula started to explain, when the anxious face of the old servant showeditself at the door of the shop across the way, and not seeing us, hadstarted to look up and down the street "Here she comes, " I said. "Oh, Paula, what shall we do?"

"Go in behind the counter, there, " said Paula who never lost her head. 

I got in behind a pile of merchandise while Paula continued to explain herwants to the clerk from the dark corner of the shop. The youug man appearedto comprehend our situation. 

"Bertrand, " and he turned to one of his fellow-clerks, "please attend tothis young girl. I'll be back in a minute. "

But "Bertrand" hardly had time to ask us what we wanted, when our firstfriend returned, bringing with him a package under his arm. 

"I had a look at your Teresa, " he said, "and I think that an apron of thisexcellent cloth will give her a thousand thrills. See, what beautiful stuffit is. "

Paula gave a nervous look toward the window before answering. 

"No, she's not there, " said the young man, divining her thoughts. "Notfinding you here, she's gone on a bit, but you can find her easily enough. "

We were enchanted with the goods which he displayed, and we were soonserved, at not too great a cost. 

"You have been very good to us, sir, " said Paula, starting to go out. "Wehave given you so much trouble, but when we wish to buy anything more, weshall always come here, will we not, Lisita? In the meantime, many thanks, "and she extended her hand to him with surprising self-possession. 

"The pleasure is all mine, " said the young man, and I could see that he'dnever met her like before. 

Teresa was not far away, gazing into a jeweler's window. "At last, you'rehere, " she said amiably. "Now, we must hurry, for it is very late. " Shemade no mention of our untoward absence and one would have believed thatshe had not noticed it, and that relieved us very much. 

"You certainly are late, " said my father to Teresa on our return. 

"I thought we'd never get through, " said the good woman. "For you see, Paula had to spend--"

"Oh, yes, I understand. She had to get rid of her five francs. 

"And now, Paula, show me what you have bought. "

"All right. Here you are, uncle!"

Paula had always shown a certain timidity toward my father, and appeared tobe slightly afraid of him. Slightly red in the face, she took out thepackages one after the other from Teresa's bag. 

"You shall see, sir. You shall see, " commented Teresa, with a shake of herhead. 

"What a lot of packages!" said Rosa, on seeing all the bundles tied up withsuch care. 

"Shall I help you open them?" said my father. "Let us see what's in thisfirst package. My, my, what's this? White grapes! And of the finest kind!You certainly have got good taste. I'll say that much, Paula!"

"They are for Catalina, uncle. "

"For Catalina?"

"Yes, uncle dear. "

Now there was not a sign of derision in my father's voice. It had changedto a surprising tenderness as he said, "So you bought this for ourCatalina? I know the cost of such fruit, and Teresa should not haveconsented. "

"And do you think, sir, " broke in Teresa, "that when Paula wants to buysomething, that she asks for my consent? You will soon be able to judgethat for yourself. I never saw her equal. "

"And this?" questioned Rosa, taking up the package of souvenir cards. 

Paula indicated the destination of each one as she gave the name andaddress of many of her old neighbors in far-away Villar. 

"So you don't forget your old friends, " observed my father. 

"Oh, what a beautiful box this is, " continued Rosa, "and, oh, look here, "as she displayed the thimble inside. "Who can this be for?"

"Oh, that's for Lisita. "

"For me, " I cried, jubilantly, "oh, Paula! So you remembered that I havejust lost my thimble. "

"Two pencils, " announced my father, undoing another small paper package. 

"One of them is for Rosa and the other is for Louis, " said Paula simply. 

"My poor dear child, " exclaimed Rosa. "What on earth are we going to dowith you! Here's another package, but it appears so fragile that you'dbetter open it yourself. "

"No, no; that's for uncle. Let him open it. "

My father cut the cord that held the package. Paula hardly dared to raiseher eyes, as he took the beautiful cup with its blue and gold ornamentationand took it over to the fading light, in order to examine it morecarefully. 

"I don't know whether I should be angry or content, " he said, with a drysmile. 

"Better be content, uncle, " said Paula appealingly. 

"Well, so be it, " he said. "At any rate, I am happy to have such a good andgenerous niece, who does love her uncle a bit. Is it not so, Paula?"

"There's one more thing, " I cried. I wanted to see the effect on Teresa ofthat final package, which Paula handed over immediately to the old servant, saying gently, "It's for you, Teresa dear. "

"What's this? How is it for me? When I strictly forbade you? But there youare! What can one do with such a girl?"

The apron was found to be eminently satisfactory, and Teresa promised toput it on the first thing in the morning, and I could see a few tears inher eyes as she said so. 

"And now, " said my father, "you've shown us all these things which you havebought us with your five francs. Where is the present for yourself?"

Paula looked at us all with dismay. 

"I declare, " she said, "I forgot! Never mind, I can buy somethingtomorrow. " And she held up a few small coins which was all that remained ofher five-franc-piece. 

My father looked at her searchingly, with that new tenderness which I hadseen frequently lately, and then left the room without another word. 

"I believe, " said Rosa, "that she'd be happy to give us her last piece ofbread if there was occasion for it"

"Yes, and her life also, if that was necessary, " said Teresa in a shakyvoice, as she turned back to her duties in the kitchen. 

CHAPTER NINE

A LITTLE GLIMPSE OF HEAVEN

What a wonderful afternoon it was! The sun far down in the west, paintedthe eastern mountains with a lovely tint of orange. The warm air was balmywith the perfume of flowers and the birds were singing cheerfully as theyflitted about. 

All was quiet in Catalina's bedroom, where Paula and I were seated. Mysister was now on the road to a partial recovery, having passed thedanger-mark some days before. Another change also I noticed had come overher. Her impatience and irritability had gradually disappeared, day by day, and when she suffered more than ordinarily, she never seemed to complain. The expression of her face had sweetened also, and even a slight but quitenatural smile would often illumine her thin features. Death had passed herby, but now seemingly a new influence gradually possessed her. This simplecountry maid of the Waldensian mountains had come smiling into her life, and although Catalina had frequently abused the kindness of our cousin, Paula never had lost patience with the poor invalid. Soon love hadtriumphed, and Catalina had begun to return the love of her little nurseeven though at times she still kept her tyrannical attitude. 

One day Catalina said to Teresa, "Paula's not a bit like the rest of us. "

"No, " she answered, "She's a 'Daughter of the good God!' Just as I said oneday when she first arrived. " Teresa sighed as she added, "What would I giveto be like her!"

One beautiful afternoon, the poor invalid lay there with her eyes on Paulaas if she wished to say something. 

"How do you feel now?" said Paula as Catalina's fixed gaze seemed todisturb her somewhat. 

"Oh, I'm all right just now. I was thinking of your god-mother's letter. She remembered, she said, the hymns you used to sing. You've never sung anyof them to us, Paula. "

I saw a mist in Paula's eyes as she answered. "No, that's true. I don'tthink I've sung a note since my father's death. Would you like to hear mesing?"

"Yes, indeed, " said Catalina, without noticing Paula's emotion. 

I was on the point of reminding them of father's formal prohibitionrelative to hymn-singing, but an imperative sign from Catalina stopped me. 

"What do you wish me to sing?" said Paula. 

"Anything you care to. It's all the same to me. "

"Then, " said Paula, "I will sing to you, 'No Night There. '" And then to ourunaccustomed ears came the glorious words:

 In the land of fadeless day, Lies the city four-sqare, It shall never pass away, And there is no night there. 

 "God shall wipe away all tears; There's no death, no pain, nor fears; And they count not time by years, For there is no night there. 

Paula had that rare gift, the "golden" voice, a voice that seemed topenetrate to one's very soul. Catalina was enchanted!

Suddenly, I heard the heavy steps of a man coming along the corridor. Butas Paula began the second stanza, I heard them pause. 

 "All the gates of pearl are made, In the city four-square, All the streets with gold are laid, And there is no night there. 

 "And the gates shall never close, To the city four-square, There life's crystal river flows, And there is no night there. "

Paula's voice trembled at the beginning. Then presently the sadness in hertones disappeared, and they seemed to swell out like an echo of radianthappiness. Catalina listened, hardly breathing. Involuntarily, I askedmyself if Paula in heaven would be any different from the little countrygirl I saw seated near the window at this moment. I had an instant'simpression that a man was standing behind the door, but I felt this couldnot be, for I knew that my father would be at his office. A special lightcame over the expressive face of Paula as she continued:

 "There they need no sunshine bright, In the city four-square, For the Lamb is all the light, And there is no night there. "

And then again the wonderful refrain:

 "God shall wipe away all tears; There's no death, no pain, nor fears; And they count not time by years, For there is no night there. "

The sweet sounds died away, and Paula looked smilingly at Catalina as ifasking her opinion of the song. 

"What a marvelous song!" exclaimed the poor sick girl. "And, Paula, youhave a voice like an angel!"

I did not hear my little companion's reply. This time I was not mistaken;there was someone there behind that door. Impelled by curiosity I ran toopen it At first I saw no one in the darkened passage, but finally I couldmake out my father moving off down the hall. When he saw that I haddiscovered him, he stopped and put a finger to his lips, and made signs tome to keep silent, but in my surprise I cried, "Is it you, father?"

"Yes, " he answered, "I came home earlier than I expected. Was that Paulawho was singing in Catalina's room?"

"I--I--don't know, " I hesitated, not knowing what to say. 

There was an instant of terrible silence like a calm before the storm. 

"You--don't--know, " my father slowly repeated. "You dare to look at me andsay you don't know when you have just this moment come out of your sister'sroom?"

"Oh, father, please forgive me, " I exclaimed penitently. "It was indeedPaula that sang. But don't punish her. She didn't know that you hadforbidden our singing hymns. "

"Who said I was going to punish her?" my father questioned. And I could seethat his anger had cooled. "Come here!"

Taking me by the hand, we went back together to my sister's room. 

"Would it tire you, Catalina, to hear Paula sing again?" he asked. 

"Why, no, father, " Catalina answered, surprised. 

"Then, Paula, " said my father, "sing again that same song. "

And once more we heard, "There's no night there. "

"Who taught you to sing?" my father asked. 

"I think it was my father. But in our valley, everybody sings. On theroads, climbing the hills, caring for the animals, in the meetings; infact, everywhere. "

Catalina looked at my father furtively, and noticed that his face remainedserene, almost tender, and so she hastened to profit by the occasion. 

"Dear father, " she said in a low voice, "Let her sing to us once in awhile; will you? It's such a joy to hear her. "

"Doesn't it tire you?"

"On the contrary, I think it does me good. " And Catalina looked at herfather appealingly. 

"Let her sing, " he said, "but leave it to the nightingales to sing alone. There are so few of them. "

"And won't you let the crows sing along with her too, if we care to?"

"There are too many crows, " said my father, shaking his head. 

"You are right, father, and your daughter Catalina is one of the number, for she's only a poor sick crow. But sometimes, father, you know the crowsenvy the nightingales. "

The comparison made my father laugh heartily, and he let himself bepersuaded by his elder daughter--that elder daughter whose voice was solike that of that dear wife of his, now forever silent. 

"Well, crows and nightingales let them sing together, " he said; andembracing all three of us, he bid us goodnight. He disappeared, but notwithout turning for a moment to Paula with the remark, "Good-night, mylittle Alpine nightingale. "

And Paula, who did not seem to comprehend a single word of thisconversation, answered gravely, "Good-night, uncle. "

CHAPTER TEN

IN THE COUNTRY

Once a year we were accustomed to visit our grandparents and this wasgenerally made a real family reunion. There we met with all our uncles andaunts and cousins. It was also a joyful occasion for Teresa who was veryfond of Justina, grandmother's faithful old servant Grandfather had been avery successful farmer, intelligent, hard-working and economical withoutbeing stingy. After many years' work he had amassed a considerable fortune. The big farm which to Catalina and Rosa was but a dim memory, but whoseglories Teresa had often recounted to us, had been sold quite a number ofyears before. My grandfather had then bought a beautiful house nearby, witha few acres surrounding it just to remind him of his former activities. Thegarden itself was large and imposing and well-cared for under the criticaleyes of both of our grandparents, who specialized in new and rare plants. The flowers, appearing in profusion in all seasons of the year (even inwinter in the great hot-houses), filled the air with their deliciousperfumes. 

Our grandparents reigned over this domain and it was here that they lovedto welcome us. Our father was their especial pride and joy as he was theoldest son. 

Our grandfather had a gruff enormous voice and possessed a pair of greatsquare shoulders; in fact, he was a real "countryman. " But beneath his rudeexterior he had a heart of gold, and no one could gain the confidence of alittle child quicker than he. 

Grandmother was of a different type with her long black dress and herbeautiful white hair, of which she was justly proud. She could easily havebeen mistaken for a noblewoman. She was a strong character and had had theadvantage of considerable schooling. She was every inch "the fine lady, "with her firm step and resolute voice and her brilliant black eyes. Nevertheless, we all loved her dearly, for there was a simple loving hearthidden away beneath all her magnificence. 

Justina, who had been her faithful servant for forty years, never tired ofsinging the praises of her "Madame. " If during our short stay at "LasLilas" we showed ourselves unduly boisterous, or when we disobeyed orders, Justina would say to us after we had been properly reprimanded, "You never, never will be like your grandmother!"

Grandfather always met us at the little railway station. On our arrival heembraced everybody, including our father whom he would kiss on both cheeksas if he had been a child. Catalina would first be hoisted up into thegreat carriage and we would follow one after the other. Louis took untohimself the honor of holding the reins, and after everybody waswell-seated, except my father and grandfather who marched on ahead of thehorses, the slow procession to the house would begin. 

In half-an-hour we could see the great house where grandma and Justina, decked out in their Sunday gowns, awaited our arrival. There, after variouscomments on our growths and states of health, Catalina would be conductedby her grandmother to her room to rest after the tiresome journey, whileJustina would carry off Teresa to the kitchen, and the rest of us wouldhurry to the orchard where grandfather with a vigorous hand would shakedown the apples and pears into our outstretched aprons. Those were ecstaticmoments when we could bury our teeth in the newly-fallen fruit. Soon fatherwould cry, "That's enough! That's enough! There'll be nothing left foranybody else!" But grandfather continuing to shake down more fruit wouldanswer with his great gruff voice, "First come, first served! Besides, lookover there to the right! There are thousands of apples that we haven't eventouched!"

Soon after this there would appear in a cloud of dust, the carriages of ouruncles August and Edward with their families from Havre and Paris, carryingall sorts of bundles mixed up with the children and nurses. 

In the doorway of the garden would be our grandmother waiting to welcomeeverybody, her numerous grandchildren clambering about her and embracingher affectionately, each one fighting for the first kiss. "Me, me, grandma;I'm the smallest. " "No, me, me, grandma; I'm the biggest" When they hadbeen all finally satisfied, she would embrace with great tenderness all hersons, inquiring of each in turn as to his health. 

Sometimes in the conversation there would come a cloud of sadness as somerelative would be mentioned who had departed since the last family reunion. Then finally, after having returned to the garden to play for a while underthe great trees, the bell of the nearby church would strike the hour ofnoon, and Justina would appear at the grape arbor entrance crying, "Comeone, come all! The soup is getting cold!"

Then there would be a wild race on the part of all the cousins to see whowould be first at the long table placed in the cool shade under the greatspreading vines, that wonderful table with its wide damask covering whichonly appeared on state occasions. Grandma's loving hospitality was shown inthe minutest details of that elaborate feast; for she had remembered thefavorite dishes of each one of her three sons and each found himselfconfronted with the delight of his childhood. When under the maternal eyein bygone days, he was not allowed to overeat; but now each was left to hisown discretion to satisfy the most ample appetite. 

And then came those delicious desserts followed by fruits and nuts whichhad been especially kept as the crown of the feast to accompany the finalcoffee-cup. Again the afternoon was spent in the garden, while the babiesslept in the shade under the eye of the respective mothers. 

The most solemn moment of our visit was when we had to make our report toour grandparents as to our progress in school. I remember especially oneyear when Rosa was the first in her class, and Santiago our tall cousin hadtaken the first prize in the great school of "Louis the Great, " from whicheach year he carried new laurels. For them it was of course a time oftriumph--but for me! oh, with what shame I presented my report card. Mygrandmother read it. "Lisita Dumas--last place!" and I hid my face in myhands. 

"Come, come, " grandma said, "don't cry. Try to do better next time. "

My cousins were not quite so charitable as they passed my poor card fromhand to hand. 

"Tell us, Lisita, " Santiago said, when he thought we were well out ofear-shot of our elders, "you certainly do love to ride in the seat behind, do you not?" and he pulled my hair with the remark, "Better let somebodyelse sit there, hereafter. " But grandmother overheard him and she said, "Goa little slower, my fine fellow. Lisita might have a more brilliant futurethan you think. And besides, when you, my fine grandson, are scintillatingin the world of letters and Rosa is director of the great normal school, perhaps Lisita may be occupying a comfortable post right here in this greathouse. " I didn't understand the full import of these remarks, but I noticedit had the effect of silencing my tormentor who slunk away abashed. 

We would play happily in the garden until supper-time and even the grownfolks joined us in some of our games. Sometimes father would gather all ofus children around him, and we would never tire of hearing the stories ofhis adventures when, as a young man, he had gone far beyond the boundariesof France. These wonderful stories seemed so strange to us as we lookedupon our father's sad and severe countenance; but our uncles August andEdward informed us that at one time he was the happiest and gayest of themall. 

After supper came the problem of housing us all. The boys always slept inthe hay barn. "A good preparation, " said Uncle August, "for their futuretraining in the army. " The rest of us found resting-places somehow here andthere in the great house. On the following day we would gather atbreakfast, and then the men folks would be off again to their various tasksin the big towns. After a good time in the garden in the morning, the twocarriages to Paris and Havre would be loaded up again, and we would takethe train once more, generally leaving Catalina to pass an additional weekin the invigorating air of "Las Lilas. " This short visit in the country wasthe great event of the year in my young life. I talked about it six monthsbeforehand and for six months afterward. The other scholars made fun of mein school, and dubbed me "Las Lilas" because I talked so much about mygrandfather's home in the country. But Paula was a most sympatheticlistener. She never tired of hearing me repeat over and over ourexperiences at "Las Lilas. " It must be confessed that I exaggerated indescribing many things about my grandfather's place, until my countrycousin came to believe that my grandfather's house was a palace and thatthe garden was a veritable Eden. 

"You shall see, you shall see!" I exclaimed as I ended my description. 

The cow appeared to be the most interesting thing to Paula. "If yourgrandfather has a cow, it must be that he really lives in the country, " shesaid. 

"Of course he lives in the country, " I said, "it is so beautiful there. Butdon't you think that we also are living in the country here in 'TheConvent'?" Paula laughed heartily at this but made no further comment. 

At last the annual letter of invitation arrived. I recognized it on accountof the beautiful handwriting of my grandmother. "It is for next Saturday, "announced my father, "and we are all invited to stay until Monday. And nowlisten, Paula, this concerns you. Grandmother writes, 'It would delight mevery much to embrace our new little relative. I hope that from now on shewill keep a warm place in her heart for her old grandmother who loves herwithout having ever met her. '"

Teresa, who was indeed tired out with the care of Catalina, and who wasvery sensitive to warm weather, was no less happy than we were, for she, too, was to go with us. Only Catalina manifested no enthusiasm over thecoming visit. My father observing this said to her anxiously, "You havenothing to say, daughter mine?"

"I'm not going, father. "

"What's that you say? You've been much better these last days and are wellable to stand the trip. You weren't very well last year, and yet you wentto 'Las Lilas' and found it so beneficial to your health. "

"Yes, I know, father, " answered poor Catalina, "but I know also that I'vealways been a source of great trouble for you, and Teresa would never havea minute's peace because of me. I shall go a little later, father, when I'mstronger, if grandmother will have me. She knows very well how I long to goto 'Las Lilas' but I fear that the trip would only bring on an especialspell of weariness and that would spoil the fun of everybody. Maria, whoworks in the garden here, can look after me for a day or two. She is verykind and thoughtful, and I know she'll care for me very well. "

We all stared at Catalina! It was the first time in all her history that Ihad ever seen her forget herself. It was a great struggle, for she hadbecome so accustomed to think only of her own comfort. Tears welled up inher eyes as she smilingly awaited father's decision. "But this is going tobe a great disappointment to you, " he said, passing his hand over thefeverish forehead of the invalid. 

"No, father; it will give me great pleasure this time, " came Catalina'sbrave answer. 

"Be it therefore as you wish, " he said. 

Pleasure? I couldn't understand what pleasure there would be for Catalinato stay behind alone with Maria, especially at this time of the great eventof the year. 

My father looked at Catalina tenderly as if he read her very heart, and sawthere something he had never seen before. "Thou hast changed much, daughtermine, since your last sickness. "

"For better or worse?" asked Catalina with a mischievous smile. 

"For better, my daughter. Indeed, far better!"

"It's because I'm older than I was, perhaps, father. "

"No, no; it's more than that. "

"I wonder if I could dare tell you the truth. "

"Never fear. Tell me what's on your mind, Catalina. "

"Well, it's this, father dear. God has spoken to me and I have answeredHim. "

"How has He spoken to thee?" said my father, and there was no sternness inhis look either. 

Catalina pointed furtively at Paula. 

"And how hast thou answered Him?"

"I've asked Him that He might save me and that He might make me a realChristian. "

There was a strange look in my poor father's face as he answered quietly, "If I could believe that there was a God, I would say that He had heardthee. "

Catalina wrote a long letter to grandmother, the contents of which she didnot care to show us. So it was as Catalina wished, and Maria promised totake good care of the invalid. 

At last the great day arrived. Paula and I, up at sunrise, scurried to thewindow to look at the weather, and oh joy! It was a magnificent day withouta cloud in the sky! A little later when Teresa arrived to call us, greatwas her surprise to find us all ready to start. 

"What a wonderful thing, " she remarked dryly, "you'd never be late toschool if you did this every morning. "

After the first moment of enthusiasm, Paula strangely enough began to loselittle by little the happy atmosphere which usually surrounded her. Idiscovered soon the cause. She was thinking of Catalina. 

"It's going to be terribly lonely for her, " she said. 

"Never fear, " I said, "she can go another time. "

But she shook her head as if trying to throw off something painful thatseemed to be on her mind. 

"Oh, Lisita, if you could but know how lonely Catalina will feel as shesees us go without her. When I took her breakfast to her yesterday and sawthat she had been crying I simply could not bear the thought of leaving herat home alone. "

"But if papa says it is all right, it can't be so bad. Besides, fatherloves her as much as you do. "

Paula didn't answer me. 

Soon the time came to start. Teresa started calling to one and another. Onehad lost this thing, another had misplaced something else. My fatherscolded and helped, at the same time trying to get us off. Then Rosa wasn'tready and Louis, always unprepared, couldn't find his favorite bluenecktie. At last we were ready. The only thing that remained was to saygood-bye to Catalina. Louis, impatient to be off, performed that ceremonyquickly; Rosa who had reserved a surprise for the invalid, put a new bookinto her hand as she kissed her; Teresa, as she embraced her in her turn, left many instructions; then, as Paula came forward, we heard a sob as sheburied her face on my oldest sister's shoulder. 

"What's the matter now?" said my father. An unintelligible sound was heard;but Catalina understood and her eyes moistened with happiness. "Oh, father, " she said, "I know; she's crying on my account, she doesn't want toleave me alone here. " "Is that it, Paula?" questioned my father. "Yes, please leave me here, uncle, I shall be so happy to be at Catalina's sidewhile you are gone. " But Catalina refused this sacrifice, saying, "No, no, my dear little Paula. I'll not be lonely. You have too tender a heart. Nowgo, things will be all right here. Everything has been arranged for me, andit will make me happy to know of the good time you are all to have with ourgrandmother. "

My father didn't know what to do. The time was passing. "Come, Paula, come, " he said; "it's time to go. "

Paula raised her head. "If you order me to go, I'll go, for I must obeyyou, and I know they are waiting for us. But if you will _permit_ me tostay"--and she put emphasis on the word _permit_ in her peculiarlyirresistible manner--"I would be a whole lot happier here than in 'LasLilas. '"

"Stay then, " said my father, as he added with a smile, "You certainly are alittle despot, for you seem to twist me to your will in everything. "

Paula laughed at this, as happy as if she had received the most valuable ofgifts, as she kissed him. 

"Oh, yes; kisses are all very well, " said father, pretending to be angry, "but what will the grandparents say?"

"You will tell them"--but the rest of the sentence I could not hear, as shebent close to my father's ear. 

"Where's Paula?" everybody cried, as we went through the door downstairs. 

"Look, " said my father, pointing to the upper window. There was Paula, witha radiant face, waving her handkerchief in good-bye to all of us!

"Come, come, hurry up; stop your fooling!" cried Louis. 

"I'm staying here. "

"How is that?"

"Oh, I'm just staying with Catalina. "

"That's too much!" cried Louis, "to stay here while the rest of us go on aholiday. Papa, you won't permit such a silly thing; will you?"

"Well, she begged me with tears to let her stay and there she is, " saidfather. 

"Good-bye, uncle; good-bye, Teresa--A happy journey to you all, " criedPaula. "Give a good hug and a kiss to grandmother and to grandfather, " weheard her say as we turned the corner. 

"She isn't a bit like the rest of us, " said Louis, "she never seems to seekher own pleasure, and yet the funny thing about it is, she's always happy. I can't understand a nature like that. "

"It's because she finds her happiness in making other people happy, " saidTeresa. 

This was also what our grandmother said, when we explained Paula's absence. 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE CAT MOTHER

It was the month of October. I was sure that my father would permit Paulato go to school with me after the summer vacation, but not so. Catalinaherself wished to teach her at home. This decision caused me many tears andcomplainings. 

Teresa tried to console me. "Don't worry, " she said, "just wait a little. Iknow Catalina, she'll soon tire of teaching, and then she'll let Paula goto school with you. " Teresa was right In the beginning Catalina wasenchanted with the task. Paula was obedient, and she did the best shecould; but she didn't learn very quickly, therefore Catalina soon tired, and Paula, with a teacher so inexperienced, became sleepy and inattentive. 

So it was that the teacher tired the pupil and the pupil tired the teacher. Catalina was the first to complain. "Paula doesn't care much for study, "she said to her father. "I'm afraid I am wasting my time trying to teachher. "

"Well, then, " said my father, "perhaps the best thing will be to send heralong to school with Lisita. "

Catalina hesitated a moment. She wished to do something for others, but shewas slow to learn how. 

"I think it would be better to let her go, " she said resignedly. 

So it was that the following Monday my father accompanied us both to schooland duly inscribed her as a student. Paula immediately became the center ofgreat interest on the part of my school-companions. They remarked upon thebeauty of her eyes and hair, the latter reaching almost to her knees. 

Coming out of class at noon-time all forty-five pupils surrounded heraffectionately, and at the end of a week Paula was the best-known pupil inthe entire school. Catalina was right, however, for Paula was not really astudent, but she applied herself because, as she said, she did not wish tocause pain to Mademoiselle, the teacher. 

As she left the school in the afternoon, the teacher would kiss Paula witha tenderness not seen toward others. At times Paula would bring her a fewflowers, which caused Mademoiselle's eyes to sparkle with such happinessthat she almost seemed beautiful to us. 

"Have you a garden?" she said to us one day. 

"Yes, Mademoiselle. "

"How happy I should be to have one. When you have an over-abundance offlowers don't forget me. "

"Poor Mademoiselle Virtud, " said Paula one day, "I am sure she has somesecret burden. "

"Nobody likes her, " I said. (I remembered that I had twenty-five lines tocopy because I had talked all the afternoon. )

"God loves her!"

"And you?" I questioned. 

"Oh, certainly, " said Paula. 

"Notwithstanding she is so disagreeable?"

"I do not know. We don't know her outside of school. "

"And I don't want to know her. As for you, you love everybody that nobodyelse loves. " And that was true: Paula was always the friend of the poor andthe despised. In that great school which was a world in miniature, therewere many unfortunate little ones who suffered neglect from their drunkenparents; others were cruelly treated at home, and in the case of stillothers, their timidity or physical weakness exposed them to the ridicule oftheir comrades. In Paula, however, they all found a friend and a companionwho loved them and defended them. 

The capacity to love and to make others happy, extended itself also to theanimals, but not to those small boys who destroyed the birds' nests orthrew stones at the horses or dogs--these she attacked without mercy. Inthe neighborhood of "The Convent" where we lived, there were quite a numberof this type of boy whose greatest pleasure was to torture the dogs andcats. One of these especially, the son of the "Breton, " was a veritableexecutioner. He never attended school, for his father never bothered withhim, and his mother, poor woman, accustomed to misery and the blows of herdrunken husband, had apparently lost all semblance of human feeling. Thisboy spent his time tormenting anything or anybody who was unable to resisthim--old men, sick people, little children, and especially dumb animals. 

One cold day in December Paula and I were walking slowly along the street, studying our lessons as we walked. Suddenly we heard the piercing cries ofa cat in distress. Paula, always touched by suffering of any kind, stoppedto listen. Louder came the cries of the cat. 

"Mee-ow, mee-ow. "

Paula threw her grammar on a road-side bench. "Poor little thing, " I cried, "we can't help him, for I can't see where he can possibly be. "

"Well, I can't stop here, " said Paula. "Come along, we'll soon find him. "

We ran over to the canal which ran along a few feet below the avenue. Suddenly I was afraid!

"Perhaps Joseph, the Breton's son, is mixed up in this!" I said trembling. 

"Come along anyway, unless you want me to go alone, " Paula said quietly. SoI followed her. 

Sure enough, it was the Breton's son surrounded by a dozen ragamuffins ofhis own set. They took no notice of us. He had a beautiful black cat, thathad a string tied to its hind legs. The boy was swinging it around his headand at times ducking it in the canal while his companions danced around himwith delight. 

"Now that he's good and wet, let's bury him, " suggested Joseph. 

"Alive?" said his comrades. 

"Of course alive! And the old dame, his owner can--"

But here Paula suddenly lunged forward, seizing the wicked youngster by thewrists with a surprising strength for one of her age. 

"You'll do nothing of the kind, " she cried. "Let him go; do you hear me?"

"Let me alone!" said the young bully as he tried to bite her. 

Not being able to accomplish this, he gave her a ferocious kick, whichcaused Paula to let go with a cry of pain. She now saw that her effortswere useless. 

"See here, " she said to him, after a few seconds' thought, "If you give methe cat, I'll give you four cents. "

"Ah, you haven't got four cents. "

"Yes, I have; I have it here in my pocket"

"All right, let me have the money. "

"No, no, " said Paula, "if I give you my four cents first, I know you willnever let me have the cat. Come, give him to me, " she said beseechingly;"he's never done you any harm and you have made him suffer so much. " ButJoseph refused this appeal. With a diabolical grin he raised the cat againto swing it over his head. There was a meow of agony--but it was the lastone! In spite of her former lack of success, Paula made one supreme effortto rescue the cat. Somehow the string got loose, the cat escaped, and wassoon lost to view. 

Then the rage of the young ruffian knew no bounds as he turned to Paula. 

"Run, run!" I cried; but Joseph and his companions cut off the only path ofescape. 

Crazy with terror, I began to yell, "Help! help!" with all my strength; butthe boys drowned my cries with their own shouts. This very circumstancesaved us. I saw someone coming to our help. 

We soon recognized with joy that it was Dr. Lebon. On seeing him the boysran away with the exception of Joseph, who was a little too late. TheDoctor, who knew him, suspected he was the guilty one, and succeeded ingetting him by the ear. Then the doctor said to me, "What has happened, Lisita?" And I told him the whole story. 

"Well, he won't do it again; that's one thing certain, " said the doctor. 

"Oh, let him go!" said Paula generously. 

"Paula, " said the doctor with a severity we had never seen in him before, "Go back to the house with Lisita!"

We had nothing to do but obey. On the way back we could tell by Joseph'scries that he was having a bad time of it!

Teresa was frightened when she saw the condition of Paula's leg, as theresult of the terrible kick she had received. The doctor soon arrived atthe house, and Paula could scarcely help crying as the doctor examined her;but he said as he left us, "If I am not mistaken, Joseph will never troubleyou any more. "

This was true. Joseph avoided us for a long time; but he took revenge on usthrough the other boys, who would cry after Paula as she walked up thestreet, "Cat mother! Cat mother!" This incident won us a friend. Shortlyafterwards, returning from school, an elderly woman that lived in one ofthe most miserable huts among the "Red Cottages", stopped us and asked ifone of us was called Paula. 

"This is she, " said I, pointing to my cousin. 

"Then you are the one that saved my cat, " she said. "How can I thank youenough, Mademoiselle? For that cat is my one consolation. If you would bekind enough to visit me sometime, I would be so pleased to see you. "

Paula looked at her in surprise, and said, "I will ask Teresa if we maycome to see you. " Which permission Teresa readily gave. 

"It's Louisa. I know her well. She has lived in that little hut for fifteenyears. True, she is a bit weak in her head but she would never hurt a fly. Speak to her of the Lord Jesus, Paula! It will do her good. "

On the following Thursday, therefore, we went to visit her. As we left thehouse, Teresa handed us a jar of preserves, saying, "Give Louisa this. Poorthing! Not many good things have come into her life. "

Louisa herself answered our knock, "Ah, " she said, "please excuse thedisorder. If I had known you were coming today I would have straightenedthings a bit. Sit down here, on this box, Mesdemoiselles. I am sorry that Ihave no chairs to offer you. Ah, here comes Cordero!" she continued, and wecould hardly recognize the beautiful black cat that jumped purring intoPaula's lap, as the same cadaverous animal that was swinging aroundJoseph's head a few days before. 

"It's my one friend, " said the poor old woman, sitting down on another box. 

"Do you believe that?" said Paula. "Can you not call us your friends? Andthere's another friend who has sent you a present. Our Teresa sent this foryou. " She placed in the eager hands of the old woman the preserves. 

"Is it for me? How can I thank you? For years everybody has made fun of me, for I never speak to anyone; preferring the company of animals to that ofpeople. "

Paula had such a sympathetic way of getting at people's hearts, thatinstinctively she understood how lonely Louisa had been. 

"By the way, " said Paula, "this is for your cat"--and she put two cents onthe table. 

The old woman did not seem to understand. 

"It's for him, you know, " said Paula, "you can buy some liver with this. Surely Cordero likes liver!"

The pleasure in Louisa's eyes was almost childlike, as she addressed hercat saying, "You must thank this good mademoiselle, " and Cordero jumpeddown and rubbed against Paula in a most affectionate manner. 

It was time to leave as the short day was ending and we had to be in thehouse before dark. 

"How can I thank you, mademoiselle?" said Louisa. "Do come to see me soonagain, even though I am a poor old woman who nobody loves. "

"Oh, Louisa, " exclaimed Paula, "there is One who loves you: don't you knowHim?"

Louisa shook her head sadly. 

"No, nobody loves me. And to tell you the truth, I don't love anyone elseeither. "

"The Lord Jesus loves you, Louisa. "

"The Lord Jesus? Tell me about Him, mademoiselle; I have heard thename--who is He?"

"The Lord Jesus is He who died on the cross, that you might go to Heaven. He suffered much before He died. They despised Him. They beat Him. Theyspat in His face. Even His own friends deserted Him and He was so poor thatHe didn't have any place at night to lay His head. Yet, He was God Himself. He died for our sins--and He rose from the dead. He is now in Heaven, andHe waits to receive you there, Louisa. None of us deserve to go to Heaven, but He who was so perfect suffered in our stead. He died for all of ussinners that we might be pardoned. I wish I could explain it better, muchbetter, but Jesus loves you, Louisa. I know He loves you more than youcould ever dream. "

Louisa's wrinkled face lighted with a smile; but she did not seem able tobelieve or comprehend this good news, which came to her, oh, so late inlife. 

"Oh, if it were only true, " she murmured, as she clasped her hands togetherand her eyes filled with tears. 

"But it is true, Louisa; don't you believe it? See here, He knows very wellyou live here alone with your cat, and that you are so sad, and that youhave nobody else to care for you. He wishes to be your Friend, and He willbe if you will ask Him. Why not ask Him now, Louisa?"

"Oh, perhaps so, some day, mademoiselle. "

"Do it now, Louisa. "

"No, no; not now. "

"Oh, why not now, Louisa?"

"Because I don't understand very well, mademoiselle. How could God love me, a poor, forlorn, useless old woman, who never loved Him, nor served Him. You come back again. Perhaps I'll end up by understanding better. And now, good-bye, mesdemoiselles. I have delayed you both too long. "

We shook hands with her. Oh, what a cold hand it was! The touch of it senta shiver through me!

"Goodbye, Louisa, " said Paula, and suddenly kissing her, she gave her ahearty embrace as well and added, "I am going to pray for you, dearLouisa. " One could see that the poor old woman was greatly touched as shesaid simply: "Thank you, mademoiselle, thank you. "

I had almost forgotten Louisa and her cat when a few days later a neighborcame in with a worried look asking for Teresa. When she appeared, the womanblurted out the news that Louisa was dying. 

"Louisa dying? Nonsense, I saw her on the street yesterday. "

"Perhaps so, for she dragged herself around until the last minute. But Iknew she was ill, so I took her a cup of hot soup this morning. I found herin bed with a terrible cough, and now she can scarcely breathe. She keepscalling for Mademoiselle Paula. "

"Have you sent for the doctor?"

"No; she's afraid he'll send her to the hospital and they'll take away hercat. "

Teresa shrugged her shoulders. 

"I'll go at once, and I'll take Paula with me. "

Murmuring her thanks, the woman left. "Can't I go?" I said. "Oh, Teresa, please let me go too. "

Teresa hesitated. "All right, come along!" she said at last. 

Louisa's neighbor had not exaggerated her condition. The poor woman wassitting up in her bed. Its thin covers could not protect her from the cold, and a terrible cough racked her thin frame. When, at times, the cough lefther she would fall back on her pillow completely exhausted. It needed allTeresa's efforts to restore her. 

"My poor Louisa!" said Teresa tenderly. 

"You were very good to come, " said the neighbor who was staying as nurse. "And Mademoiselle Paula?"

"Here she is. Come here, Paula. "

And as Paula came near the bed, Louisa said with a weak voice. "Now Iunderstand the love of God, for when you kissed me and embraced me, it wasthat kiss that made me understand that God loves even me. I will soon befar from the living, but I shall die in the arms of the Lord Jesus. "

"Now, don't cry, " continued Louisa weakly, as she saw us all weeping. "Mymisfortunes have been my own fault. I was selfish, I wished to live alonewithout God and without hope. I have been abandoned. I have known what itwas to be cold and hungry for many years; but the happiest time of my lifehas been these last three days. They began with your visit, MademoisellePaula. That afternoon I prayed, and I believe God had pity on me. I am sureof that. "

Here Paula broke in: "You had better not talk any more now, Louisa. Yourcough will come back--you are already too tired. "

"Perhaps so, " Louisa said, "but I must speak while I have strength for it. Oh, Mademoiselle Paula, I did want to thank you before I die!"

"But Louisa dear, " said Paula in the midst of her tears, "I have donenothing for you; I didn't even know you were ill. "

The poor sick one took Paula's soft hand between her thin ones, and raisedit to her lips, "You have been like God's angel to me. "

"No, no, Louisa, Louisa!"

"Yes, and you loved me, mademoiselle, and your love revealed to me God'slove! May He bless you richly!"

"Amen, " sighed Teresa. 

Then again came that terrible cough which seemed to tear the poor weak bodyin two. 

"I can do no more, " she murmured, as soon as she was able to speak. 

"Well, " said Teresa, "you will soon be with the Lord Jesus in heaven. "

A contented sigh came from the bed as we caught the words, "Oh, whathappiness!"

"Is there nothing you would like us to do for you? No word to send to somefriend or relative?"

"I have no other friend but Cordero, the cat. What will become of him?"

Teresa hated cats, and we never dared bring one into the home, but now wesaw a struggle going on within her, and finally she said, "Would you behappy if we took him home with us?"

"Oh, indeed, yes, " said the poor dying woman, "but please don't take himyet. Leave him with me until the end. He has been my only comfort and thenights are so long. "

Louisa, however, did not remain alone any longer, for Teresa and severalkind neighbors took their turns night and day to care for the poor invalid. Teresa brought from home pillows and blankets, and had a good hot firealways going in the grate. Dr. Lebon was called immediately, but it was toolate; he could only make her last hours more comfortable. A few days latershe died in Teresa's arms. A beautiful smile on the yellow wrinkled facegave it a happy expression that had never been seen there before. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

A TREASURE RESTORED

Our birthdays generally passed without celebration, either in the form ofpresents or parties, principally because my father disliked holidayfestivities, as they seemed to bring back to him more bitterly the loss ofher who could no longer share their joy with him. On New Year's Day, however, he always gave a little gift to each one of us. It was our customto write him in turn "A Happy New Year" letter. 

Louis would always come from school to visit us during his New Year'sholidays, and we had quite a number of visitors who bored us dreadfully. For me it was a time of good resolutions, and I would go to Teresa and sayinvariably as I embraced her, "I wish you a very happy New Year, Teresa. Will you please forgive me for all the trouble I have caused you this pastyear? And this new year, I am going to be very good. " Unfortunately Teresanever saw any change. 

As Christmas-time drew near, Paula questioned me as to how we celebratedthat day. 

"We don't celebrate it, " I said. 

"Oh, Lisita, is that true? You do nothing special on that day?" questionedmy poor cousin surprised. 

"No, Christmas with us is not nearly so important as the New Year. Oh, yes;I generally have to put on my Sunday dress, and then I can't play, forTeresa is afraid I'll soil it. "

"Oh, " said Paula whose great eyes seemed to contemplate an invisiblesplendor. "In my country we always had a Christmas-tree, and celebrated thebirth of the Lord Jesus. "

"Tell me about it, " I said, "I have heard about these Christmascelebrations, but have never seen any. "

"Well, " said Paula, "sit down here, close to the fire, and I'll tell youwhat we did last year. Four of our men went to the mountains and cut down abeautiful pine tree. They had to go up to their waists in snow, and what ajob it was to bring it all the way down to Villar. But they were all verystrong. My father was one of them. They dragged the tree into the churchbecause there wouldn't have been room for everybody in the littleschool-house. We all helped to decorate it with gold and silver nuts, andwe hung apples and oranges everywhere on its branches. But the beautifulpart were the candles. There were hundreds of them in blue, green, red, white and yellow. If you could only have seen how beautiful it was, Lisita, when the candles were lit, especially when they crowned the top of the treewith a lovely white angel. We sang the wonderful Christmas hymns. Then thepastor gave us a fine talk about the Saviour. At the close, each of uschildren was given an apple, an orange, a little bag of sweets, and abeautiful little book. "

"Oh, " said I, "how happy I should be if father would let us go to see itall. It must be a beautiful country!"

"It is the most beautiful in the world, " Paula assured me, her eyessparkling. 

"We too shall go and live there when we grow up; shall we not, Paula?"

"Yes, indeed, Lisita. "

"You know, Paula, father always gives us a New Year's present, " as I sawtears come into Paula's eyes as she thought of her old home. "What wouldyou like to have if you could choose?"

"There's just one thing I want, " said Paula, "and that's my little Bible. "

"But that wouldn't be a present, " I said. 

"No, but it would give me more pleasure than any present, " sighed Paula. 

 * * * * *

New Year's Day dawned with splendid weather. It had snowed during the nightand the whole countryside was dressed in white. The sparrows flew back andforth under our windows, seemingly remembering our custom to scatter crumbsfor them on such an occasion. Of course, we soon satisfied their hunger. 

In the dining-room a huge fire burned, and Teresa with Rosa's help preparedthe New Year's breakfast. Paula helped Catalina to dress, for Catalina, contrary to her custom, decided to breakfast with us, although againstTeresa's advice, for she feared such early rising would tire her too muchfor the rest of the day. 

"Yes, but I wish to be on hand when father distributes his New Year gifts, "our invalid said. So Teresa had to yield. 

Our father was late in coming so Paula ran to tell him that breakfast wasready, and soon back she came with her hand in his, with that affectinggrace that was so habitual to her. 

When he had received our "Happy New Years" father asked us if we wanted thepresents before or after breakfast. 

"Before! Before!" we all cried. 

"Very well, " he said, "I have tried to satisfy everybody's taste, so Itrust everybody will be contented. Here, Paula, this little package is foryou. Catalina assured me that this would give you more pleasure thananything else. "

Paula took the package and turned it over and over. 

"It is a book, " she said in a voice that was none too steady. 

"Do you think so?" said Catalina with a smile. "In that case hurry up, andshow us. "

"Hurry up, " cried Louis, handing her his jack-knife. "Cut the string andopen the package. We want to see what it is. "

She obeyed, a bit confused to see all eyes fixed upon her. Inside she founda little black book with a much-used cover. 

She raised her eyes in gratitude to father and tried to thank him, butcould not find a word to say. Eagerly her fingers turned the preciouspages. Suddenly out fell a five-franc-piece. 

"There, there, " said my father, as she tried to express her thanks, "I ammore than satisfied, if I have made you happy. "

"Happy!" said Paula, "I am more than happy!" She took her beloved Book, andas she turned its pages she found still other treasures--a few fadedflowers which to my mind appeared to have no value whatsoever, and yet Icould see that they seemed to call up once more the precious memories ofher past life in that far-off Waldensian Valley. 

"Dear uncle, " said Paula, "Did you read the Book?"

"Yes, I read part of it, but if I have returned it to you today, it is notbecause I have finished reading it, nor is it because Catalina has beggedme to return it to you. It is because you have obliged me to read anotherbook. "

"I, uncle? What book can that be?"

"Yes, it may seem strange to you, but you see, you have lived among us insuch a way that I am to confess that I wish that my three daughters wouldimitate your manner of living. You have made me comprehend the love thatyour Bible speaks of, and of which Christ gave us an example, and which Heapparently has put into your life, and so I give back your Bible to youwith all my heart. "

One can imagine our feelings as we listened to this strange discourse fromthe lips of him who only a short time before had been so opposed to suchthings!

"And then, Paula, I have something more to say, " said my father. "Do youremember the day when I hit you on the head with your Bible as I took itaway from you? I wish to say that I am sorry beyond expression for what Idid that day;--and now have you pardoned me, little daughter?"

For reply Paula took my father's hands in hers, then in a flood ofgenerosity and forgetfulness of self she gave her Bible back to him, simplysaying, "I give it back to you, dearest uncle!"

"You give it back to me!" said my father, stupefied, "You give me back theBible you loved so much!" "Yes, " answered Paula, "because Teresa haspromised to give me another. "

"But do you mean to tell me that you would care for a new Bible as much asthis one?"

"Oh, no, " she said, "Father gave me that one, and it's full of hismarkings, and it was in that Bible that I learned to love the Lord Jesus. "

"And then--?"

"Well, it's because it is the most precious thing that I have in all theworld that I give it to you. Because you see I love you so, and I wouldwish . .. Oh, how I do wish that you could learn to know Him too. "

"My poor dear child, " said my father, "I cannot accept your sacrifice, butI shall always remember your thought of me; and in the meantime, if youlike, we can go and buy another Bible like yours that I, too, may read it. How will that do?" At this Paula clapped her hands in delight, as she said, "Indeed, that will be wonderful!"

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE SCHOOL-TEACHER AND HER BROTHER

"Lisita, " said Paula to me one day on returning from school, "Mlle. Virtudwas not in class this morning. "

"That's all the same to me, " I said with indifference, "except that if Ihad known that, I would have gone to school anyway in spite of mychilblains. "

"Do they still hurt you so badly, " Paula asked. 

"Yes, quite a bit; but not so badly as yesterday, and it bores me terriblyto stay at home alone. You see, Teresa makes me clean the spinach, andCatalina gives me a basketful of stockings to darn, and I think I'd rathergo to school, especially if there is anything the matter with the teacher, even though my feet hurt worse than a toothache. Do you ever havechilblains?"

"No, I don't think I ever had them. "

"Well, " I said, "I always seem to be the one that gets something--somethingthat's bad and horrible. "

"I think that Mlle. Virtud is sick, " continued Paula. 

"You're always thinking of that woman. I tell you, it doesn't make anydifference to me what happens to her, " I said impatiently. 

"Oh, Lisita, aren't you ashamed to say such a thing?"

"No, " I said, "How do you expect me to like her? No matter what I do in theclass she punishes me for the slightest thing; and not only do I suffer inclass, but I get twenty-five lines to copy after school, so that I have notime to play with the rest of them. How I do detest that woman!"

"Of whom were you speaking?" asked Teresa, who appeared at that moment. 

"Of the school-teacher, Mlle. Virtud. "

"I have a good mind to box your ears, " cried Teresa indignantly. "Youdetest such a fine young lady who works in your behalf. "

"Oh, Teresa, don't be angry, " I said. "You have no idea how she makes mesuffer. When you were little you never went to school, so you do notunderstand. Now, listen--instead of keeping the bad children after school, she sends us all home with twenty to fifty lines to copy, while she goescalmly back to her house. The other teachers keep the bad ones there forten minutes or so, and that's all there is to it, which is a whole lot moreagreeable. "

"Mlle. Virtud is absolutely right, for she makes the punishment fit thecrime. "

"No, it isn't that, " I answered in a rage; "It's because she doesn't wantto stay in school like the other teachers, the selfish thing! Here I amright now with lines which were given last Monday, and I'm not going to dothem. She can say what she pleases!"

Paula, whose tender heart would have loved to have been on my side and alsoon that of Mlle. Virtud at the same time, suggested that perhaps she hadsomeone who was ill in the house. 

"She, " I cried, "Mile. Virtud! Who do you think would ever have such adisagreeable thing in the house with them! Besides, she has told us thather family live far away in the country. "

"I don't know, " said Paula; "but do you remember the day when we saw hercarrying flowers back home with her. I dare say it was for somebody. "

"Perhaps, " I answered indifferently. 

That afternoon Teresa permitted me to go to school, and there I found theteacher of the Third Year in charge of our class. She was a beautiful womanwith lovely golden hair and blue eyes, and pink-and-white cheeks thatreminded one of a wax doll. "Ah, " said I to myself, "how I wish I was inthe Third Year to have such a beautiful teacher always in front of me!" Sheread to us and told us stories almost all the afternoon, and never punishedanybody, and on coming out of school her two little brothers ran to embraceher affectionately. "Hurry up, dear sister, " said one of them, "Mama iswaiting for us on the porch. "

"My! How beautiful she is, " I murmured to myself. "How I do love her! Mlle. Virtud would never be so gentle with her little brothers, if she ever hadany. " Then suddenly I stopped, for it seemed to me that I heard Paulasaying to me sadly, "Are you not ashamed of yourself, Lisita?" And I lookedup to see Paula exchanging a few words with a poorly-dressed child justbefore she joined me. "Lisita, it is true, " Paula said, "MademoiselleVirtud is quite ill; she tried to get up this morning and wasn't able toraise her head. Victoria, the little girl who was speaking to me just now, knows her very well; in fact, she lives in the same courtyard. "

"Who is taking care of her?" I said. 

"No one, as far as I can find out. Do you think Teresa would let us go tosee her?"

"No, I am sure she wouldn't, and for one thing, I'd never go. I haven'tdone my fifty lines. "

"Oh, but see; I'll help you do your fifty lines right now. "

"Oh, but that wouldn't be square. "

Paula laughed, "You generally haven't such a delicate conscience. You knowvery well that half of the time Rosa does your lines for you. "

"Oh, Paula, I swear to you--"

"No, don't do anything of the kind. It's useless, for I've seen it myself, and I'm sure teacher would say nothing if I were to help you in order thatwe should both be able to see her. I'm sure she would be so delighted, Lisita. When my father was so ill, all his pupils came to see him, and hewas so happy. "

"Your father wasn't like Mlle. Virtud though. Never! Never! I'll never goto see her. "

"The Lord Jesus said that when we go to see the sick it is as if we visitedHim. Wouldn't you care to go for love of Him, Lisita?"

"Well, we'll talk about that tomorrow, " I answered, not daring to refuse onsuch grounds, and not caring to promise anything either. 

Teresa gave her permission, and promised herself to visit the sick one atthe very first opportunity. Paula wrote exactly half of my fifty lines, andin order to do so she sacrificed her playtime that afternoon because shewrote so slowly. I performed my twenty-five without further murmuring, and, exacting a promise from Paula that she would go in first, I decided toaccompany my cousin on her visit to the teacher. 

"Take this, " Teresa said to us at the last moment. "It's just a littlechocolate for the sick one, for there is nothing better to fortify herstrength. "

"Oh, many thanks, " said Paula. "You think of everything. By the way I'vegot four cents; what do you think we could buy with them?" Teresa reflecteda minute. "Get some oranges, and see that they are good and ripe. Don'tstay late, for the days are getting short, and it gets terribly cold whenthe sun goes down. "

Paula herself suddenly became very timid as we entered the Rue Blanche andasked a young girl where Mlle. Virtud lived. 

"Ah, you are looking for Mademoiselle, " said a childish voice. 

"It's you, Victoria, " Paula cried, "I'm so glad to find you here. Yes, weare looking for Mlle. Virtud. "

"Come along, then, " said Victoria as she blew on her hands that were purplewith the cold, "I'll take you to her door. " She took us up four flights ofstairs when at last we came to Mlle Virtud's apartment. "Here you are, "said our little guide, and downstairs she went. I started to follow her ondown. "Oh, Lisita, " cried Paula; "remember your promise. "

"Well, why don't you knock?" I said, rather wickedly, as I saw that Paulawas having trouble to muster up her courage. 

"I don't know what's the matter with me; I can't seem to do it. "

In a sudden spirit of mischief I suddenly ran to the door and gave it threetremendous knocks, and then ran into the far comer of the hall. 

"Oh, Lisita, how could you, " cried poor dismayed Paula. 

Pretty soon we heard someone coming slowly to the door, but as if he weredragging something behind him with each step, and then the door openednoiselessly, and there stood a forlorn twisted little figure, a lad ofabout ten years. As we looked at his face with its halo of golden hair weforgot all about his deformities. 

"Have you come to see my sister?" he said. 

"Yes, " said Paula, "that is, we have come to see Mademoiselle Virtud. "

"She is very, very sick, " he said, and we saw that it was with difficultythat he restrained his tears. As he opened the door a bit wider to let usin, we saw that a black shawl had been placed over the only window in theroom, so that it was extremely difficult after the door was closed for ourunaccustomed eyes to see anything in the room. 

"Elena, " called the boy softly; "here are some visitors to see you. "

"For me?" said a voice from the darkness--a voice which we recognized atonce. 

"Well, then, Gabriel, please take the shawl from the window; they will findit too dark here. "

"But Elena, the light will make your head ache. "

"No, no, dear; it's alright now I've slept a bit, and I feel better. "

Presently the shawl came down from the window, allowing us to see the formof poor Mlle. Virtud on the bed. 

"Oh, " she said, "so it's you! It's very kind of you, dear children, to comeand see me!"

We stood near the door transfixed as we looked on the face of our poor sickteacher and we saw what a terrible change a few days had made. The littleboy came and stood near his elder sister with a mixed air of concern anddeep affection. 

"And how is everybody at the school?" asked the invalid. And Paula told hera bit about the small happenings in the class. 

"And so Mademoiselle Virginia has taken the class. I am sure you must loveher very much. "

"Not as much as we do you, dear teacher, " said Paula. 

"Oh, Paula, you just say that to make me feel good; do you not?" and poorMlle. Virtud looked from one to the other of us a bit sadly I thought. 

At this, Paula came over to the bed and placed her warm hand on the thincheek of the sick one, as she said, "No, Mademoiselle; it is because it istrue, that I said it You are our dear teacher, and we know that you havesacrificed so much and worked so hard to give us knowledge, and so that iswhy we love you. "

"I did my fifty lines!" I burst out, "that is to say, Paula didtwenty-five, and I did the rest. "

"What's that you say?" and a smile of amusement passed over the thinfeatures of the teacher, and yet a certain tender look came into her eyesas she said, "You poor little thing! I'd forgotten all about it!"

"Gabriel, " she said, turning to the boy who had been examining us minutely, "these are the young ladies who have been sending you such beautifulflowers. You see, he loves flowers so!" explained Mademoiselle. "Poorchild, he cannot walk, and so he has to stay here in this stuffy room allday long. Before I was ill, I was able to take him out in his littlecarriage, and sometimes we would go as far as the open fields where hecould see all the flowers he wanted to, to his heart's desire, but now thatI'm confined to my bed with this heart-attack, those little excursions havebecome impossible. "

"Are you very sick, Mademoiselle?" Paula asked. 

"Oh, I feel very much better today. I have suffered greatly. I must getbetter quickly. Madame Boudre, the principal, wrote me yesterday that shehoped I would be back very soon in my place in the class. Madame Boudredoesn't care to have sick people, " and our teacher looked toward the windowwith its little white curtains and sighed deeply. Gabriel came near thebed, "Don't worry about that, sister; when I get big I will work for youand become rich, and then you won't need to go to school at all. "

How many things I was discovering, I who thought that the life of theschool-teacher was a bed of roses. 

"No, never any more, " continued the little boy, "I know why you're sick. It's because the school-children trouble you, and as you told me it gaveyou so much pain to punish them, but when I get big you shall see, as Isaid before. "

Mlle. Virtud looked at the little face with its great earnest eyes. 

"I'm afraid you will have to wait a long, long time, " she said tenderly, "Idon't think I ever told you young ladies that I had a little brother athome. He is the youngest of our family, and I am the oldest. "

"How is it that Gabriel is not at home with his parents?" questioned Paula. 

"Because, you see, he needed certain special treatment which my parentscould not give him in the small village where we live; but here in Rouenthere are fine doctors and big hospitals. Of course, I doubt if he can berestored completely, but we are doing all we can. That is my oneconsolation. I didn't expect that he would be with me so long a time. Thefirst time Gabriel came to Rouen, he went into the big hospital'_Hotel-de-Dieu_' but, after staying there for many months, his hip seemedto be no better, and they could not keep him any longer and then he stayedwith me here so that I could take him to the doctor once in a while. "

"You'll tire yourself, Mademoiselle, talking to us, " broke in Paula, whohad learned this much, taking care of Catalina. 

"Do you think so, " said Mademoiselle, "I know I'm not very well yet, but itisn't very often that I have the pleasure of a visit from my pupils, and soI'm profiting by it. You see, I took Gabriel home once, but when I startedto return, the poor boy begged so hard to come back with me that finally myparents agreed; so he's been with me now for several years. We are veryhappy, are we not, Gabriel? You see, when I'm in school he's able to tidyup the house and wash the dishes. What would I do without my littleGabriel?" she said, as she playfully pulled the little boy's hair. 

"And I, " said Gabriel, "What would I do without you? In fact, what wouldeverybody do around this whole court without you? Wasn't it you who--"

"There, that will do, " said Mlle. Virtud. "You mustn't tell all the familysecrets. We are here in this world to help others; are we not, Lisita?"

"Yes, Mademoiselle, " I answered, and I was filled with fear that theremight be another sermon coming. However, Mlle. Virtud began to tell us ofthe rest of the family and of the little village to which they returned atvacation time; and one could see that her heart was there with her lovedones. During the next few minutes there was quite a silence, and I began toshiver with cold, and we noticed that there was no fire in the grate. 

"How pale you are, " said Mademoiselle; "Are you cold?"

"Yes, a little, Mademoiselle, " I said, quite ashamed for my discomfort tobe discovered. 

"Poor little girl, " she said. Taking my two hands in her two hot ones thatwere burning with fever, "You had better not stay here any longer as youare not accustomed to the cold. Our neighbor made a little fire in thegrate this morning to cook the breakfast with, but it's gone out. "

Was it this little touch of tenderness on the part of Mademoiselle, orremorse for all the wicked feelings I had so long held against my teacher?Anyway, a flood of tears came as I kneeled beside the bed and hid my faceon the white cover. "Oh, Mademoiselle . .. Forgive me, " I murmured betweenby sobs. 

All my pride had broken and I saw myself for what I was, guilty, unjust andcruel toward this young woman whom I had accused of living solely forherself. I felt a hand passing slowly over my head. 

"I forgive you with all my heart, poor child, " and the invalid's voice wasboth sincere and kindly, and I rose and embraced her with a repentantheart, and with a hearty kiss I buried our old war then and there, and inthat cold room I felt the warmth of the beginning of a new life for mealthough at that time I could not have analyzed it. Suddenly we heard aknock on the door. 

"Ah, that will be Madame Bertin, " said Gabriel, as he hitched himself tothe door and opened it, revealing a gray-haired woman who came in ontiptoe. 

"Ah, you have visitors, Mademoiselle, " as she stopped a moment near thedoor. 

"Only two of my pupils who have come to see me. Come in, come in, it's allright, " insisted our teacher. 

"Ah, " said the new arrival with great interest, "so you are my Victoria'sschoolmates. How proud you ought to be to have such a wonderful teacher!"Here she advanced to the bed. "Well, I declare, " she said, "you have nomore drinking water!" She shook a flask near the bedside, saying, "I willgo and fill it and bring back a little something to make a fire with so asto get your tea ready. I'm sure Gabriel must be hungry by this time, " andwithout waiting for a reply the good woman went rapidly down the fourflights of stairs. Paula then gave Mademoiselle the small package Teresahad sent, as well as the little bag of oranges. 

"See, Gabriel!" said Mademoiselle as she opened the packages with delight, "Oranges!--and chocolate! What a treat! You are very good to remember me insuch a lovely way. Please thank your Teresa too. "

"She said she was coming to see you, " said Paula. 

At this the poor young woman looked disturbed. "I'm afraid she'll findthings in a very bad state here, " and she colored slightly. 

But as we started to go away Paula assured her that Teresa wouldn't mind abit. 

"Just a moment, " said the invalid; "Would you mind reading me a chapter outof this book? I have not been able to read it today, as my head ached toobadly. It's a book that I love very much. "

"The Bible!" cried Paula, "Oh, I didn't know that you read it too. "

The young lady shook her head sadly, "I used to read it when I was a child, Paula. It was and is the beloved Book of my mother, but for many, manyyears I never opened it. When your uncle came to inscribe you as a pupil, he told me how much you loved your father's Bible, and that started methinking of my own, hidden in the bottom of my trunk, and so I began toread many chapters that I remember having read with my mother, and now Ibelieve that Gabriel would never tire if I read it to him all day. "

"Tell her to read the story of Jesus healing the sick people, " came theeager voice of Gabriel. 

Mademoiselle smiled, "Gabriel is right. When people are sick they love tohear of the greatest doctor of all. Read about the ten lepers, Paula. "

At this point the old lady returned, and she too stood and listened asPaula began to read the wonderful story. 

"And as Jesus came to Jerusalem, He went through Galilee, and entering intoa village, behold, ten lepers stood afar off, and cried, Jesus, Master, have mercy on us, and He said to them, Go show yourselves to the priest. And as they went their way, they were healed, and one of them seeing thathe was healed, returned and glorified God in a loud voice, and cast himselfat the feet of Jesus, giving thanks to Him, and behold, he was a Samaritan. Then said Jesus, Were there not ten healed? Where are the nine? Only thisforeigner has returned to give glory to God. And He said to him, Rise, therefore; thy faith hath made thee whole" (Luke 17:11-19). Here Paulastopped, not knowing whether to go on to the end of the chapter. 

Mlle. Virtud then dosed her eyes, but one could see she was not sleeping. Paula waited in silence, and so did the old lady as she stood there withher rough, toil-worn hands clasped beneath her apron. 

"Read some more, " said Gabriel, "No, " said Mlle. Virtud. "It's time thechildren returned, for they must reach home before dark. " She drew us toher, giving us both a long embrace. "May God bless you both, by dear youngfriends! Come back soon to see me. " Then Victoria's mother embraced usalso, saying at the same time, "I have a poor blind daughter. I would bevery grateful if you would stop in to see her the next time and read herthe same story you have just read to Mademoiselle. "

"I don't know how to read, " she continued; "I have such a poor stupid head, and Victoria doesn't seem to have learned to read very well. She can showyou where we live--and now, goodbye until the next time. "

On our return Teresa prepared supper. She was more hurried than usualbecause she had to get the week's wash ready for the next day; but shelistened with great interest, nevertheless, to the story of our afternoon'svisit. "I'm going to see her tomorrow, poor child, " she said. 

That night Teresa came to tuck us in and kiss us goodnight which was herhabit, as she said, to try to take partly the place of our poor dearmother. I whispered in her ear, "Teresa, I've come to love MademoiselleVirtud. "

"Good! good!" exclaimed the old servant; "that's something new indeed! Andwhy has the wind so suddenly changed in her direction?"

"It's because I know her now!" I said. 

Teresa seated herself on my bed, and in spite of the cold she talked to mea long time, telling me that my heart's coldness and my selfishness hadcaused her much grief. I could see how happy I had made her to haveconfessed my faults and thus show the beginning of a great change. She toldme how my mother died with a prayer on her lips for me. Then die spoke ofPaula who thought of nothing except making other people happy. "Wouldn'tyou like to be like Paula?" Teresa questioned me. "Of course, dear Teresa, "I said, "but that's impossible, I'm too bad for that. "

"Who it is, Lisita, that makes Paula so good?" and Teresa's voice took on anew and most tender note. 

"It's the Lord Jesus!" I answered in a low whisper. 

"That's well answered, Lisita! And the same Lord Jesus would do the likefor you. Let me ask you something. Do you not find me changed--since--since--I began to pray to Him?"

"Yes, Teresa. "

"In what way have you noticed the change?"

"Well, for one thing--wash-day doesn't make you irritable, as it used todo, " I said. 

"That's something, now isn't it? Oh, when one has the peace of God in theheart, anger doesn't have a chance to get inside as it used to do. "

I looked at her furtively. By the lamplight I could see in those dark blueeyes such a new, such a tender, confident look, that in spite of thewrinkled cheeks and her white hair I saw a startling likeness to Paulaherself. I couldn't explain it at the time, but later I understood--Teresaand Paula were just part of the family of God and it was His likeness ofJesus, His dear Son, I had seen in both of them. 

PART TWO

CHAPTER ONE

SOME YEARS LATER

The years passed swiftly without bringing any great changes in our quietlife. Our grandparents had aged a bit, and Teresa was not quite as activeas formerly, while a few wrinkles had gathered on our father's forehead;but all this had come so slowly that the change was hardly noticed. 

Rosa, who was now eighteen years old, was studying in the city. She wasstill the same--studious, faithful and sincere in all that she did. Herquiet reserved manner caused some people to call her proud, but those whoknew her better loved her, and knew she could be depended on in time oftrouble. 

Catalina still suffered somewhat, but now was able to walk around a bitwithout crutches, and in spite of her delicate health and poor twisted bodyshe had come bravely to take her true place among us as our "big sister, "so loving and solicitous for everybody's welfare that she came to be knownin the neighborhood as "The little mother. "

Paula was now fourteen years of age. In the house, at school, in thevillage, everywhere, everybody loved her, and I can say with all honestythat never a shadow of envy ever disturbed the tender friendship which hadunited us to her from the beginning. One could not possibly be jealous ofPaula. All that she possessed was ours. Our joys were hers. Our sorrowswere her sorrows. She had grown in body and mind, and yet had kept the samecharacteristics. Always bright and happy and full of fun, she had the samesimple, humble ways as when at ten years of age she had come among us. Herspecial summer delight was to run through the fields, always returning tothe house with a big bunch of wild flowers for Catalina. In one thing onlyshe always seemed to fail. Teresa had a fearful task in teaching her to sewand to knit. 

"What are you going to do in the future if you don't know how to do thesethings?"

"I'm sure I don't know, " Paula would say sadly, and would take up the workonce more with such sweet resignation that Teresa, moved with compassion, would take the work from her hands saying--"There! There! Run outdoors nowfor a bit of fresh air. "

Then away Paula would go into the garden or under the trees that lined thevillage street. Soon she was back with such a happy smile that Teresaforgave her completely. 

Once however Teresa lost all patience with her, exclaiming, as she saw thestrange ragged ends she had left in her sewing, "Drop that work, and gowhere you please; but remember this, never will you be called a 'Dorcas. 'Never will you be able to sew and provide garments for the poor. It's notenough to tell them you love them, you must show it by your works--and thebest way to do that would be to learn to be useful to them. "

Paula sat back stiff and straight in consternation. "Oh, Teresa, I never, never thought of that!" she said in a tone of greatest remorse, "Oh, pleaselet me go on! I will try to do better!"

But Teresa had taken away the work, and was not inclined to be easilypersuaded. "No, not now! Another time perhaps you may show what you cando. "

Paula therefore had to submit; but that was the last time that Teresa hadany reason to complain. That afternoon Paula had gone straight to her room, and I followed soon after to comfort her, but I found her kneeling by herbedside pouring out her heart in true repentance to Him who was ever herunseen Companion. I closed the door gently behind me and stole away. 

Later Paula said to me, "Oh, Lisita, I'm surely bad indeed. One thing I'vecertainly hated to do, and that is to sit down and learn to sew, especiallyin fine weather like this. I seem to hear a thousand voices that call meout-of-doors. I never could see any earthly reason why I should have tolearn how to sew, and so I never even tried to please Teresa in that way. But now she tells me that if I go on like this I shall never be able to sewfor the poor. I never thought of that! I wonder what the Lord Jesus mustthink of me. He gave His life for me, and here I am not willing to learnsomething that would help me to put clothes on poor folks! Oh, I must! Imust learn to sew, no matter what it costs. "

That was it--to do something for others, that was the principal thing inall her thoughts. 

In school Paula never did win prizes--nor did I. Both of us were generallyabout on an equal level at the bottom of our class. 

About a year after our first visit to Mademoiselle Virtud's house, MadameBoudre had moved us up to the Third Grade. Teresa made a magnificentapple-cake as a sign of her pleasure. My father also showed his greatsatisfaction, and in fact everybody rejoiced to see that at last we wereboth making progress. In spite of all, however, there was one great heavyweight on my heart, and I cried myself to sleep that night I think Mlle. Virtud also felt badly that we were leaving her, but she made us promise tocome and visit her. "You are no longer my pupils, " she said, "but you arestill, and will be always, my dear friends. "

Gabriel was so glad to see us that it was always a joy to go and play withhim on our Thursday half-holidays. Paula always told him Bible stories, forthat seemed to be his chief pleasure, and I taught him to read. Victoria'smother used to bring her work over to Mlle. Virtud's room and heard thestories with great delight. 

"If I had been able to leave my Victoria in school she would have become aswise and learned as you, Mesdemoiselles, " she would say a bit sadly attimes. "But there, I can't complain; what would we have done without themoney she earns at the factory?"

One afternoon we said good-bye to Gabriel and mounted the stairs to visitthe blind girl. Left alone for most of the day, she passed the long hoursknitting. She was about the same age as our Catalina, but she appeared tobe much older. The first time we had visited her, she had hardly raised herhead from her work, and showed but little interest in the stories that hermother had asked us to read to her. It was not so much indifference as anapparent incapacity to comprehend the meaning of what she heard. But onthis particular afternoon Paula started singing a hymn. The poor girlsuddenly dropped her work in her lap, and listened with rapt attention. When Paula had finished she exclaimed "Oh, mamma! mamma! Tell her to pleasesing again. "

Mme. Bertin could not suppress a cry of delight as she said, "DearMademoiselle Paula, please sing another song! Never have I seen myMarguerite so happy. " And so Paula sang hymn after hymn. As Paula at laststopped singing, for the time had come to go home, poor Margueritestretched out her arms as if groping for something. 

"Please do not be offended, Mademoiselle Paula, " implored Madame Bertin;"she wants you to come nearer that she may feel your face. The blind haveno other eyes. " Paula kneeled at Marguerite's side and the blind girlpassed her hands gently over the upturned face, pausing an instant at thebroad forehead, then on over the beautiful arched brows and long eyelashesand the delicately-fashioned nose and lips, that smiled softly as shetouched them. 

"You have not seen her hair, " said the mother, as she guided the girl'shands upward and over the waves of light brown hair that seemed like anaurora fit for such a face, and then finally down the long braids thatextended below Paula's waist Then with one of those sudden movementscharacteristic of the blind, she carried the shining braids to her lips andkissed them as in an ecstasy. Then, just as suddenly, in confusion shedropped them and buried her own face in her hands. 

At this Paula sprang to her feet and put her arms about the poor girl, andmurmured in her ear, "We do love you so, Marguerite!"

After that visit, little by little Marguerite began to love to hear usspeak of the Saviour. Her indifference and sadness disappeared, givingplace to a quiet peace and joy that was contagious for all who came incontact with her. Mme. Bertin no longer called her "My poor daughter, " only"My Marguerite. " For the next two years she became our constant delight. Teresa at times gave us clothes but slightly worn to take to her, whichgave us almost as much joy as we carried them to Marguerite as she herselffelt on receiving them. 

One day Gabriel came running to tell us that Marguerite was quite ill, andwe lost no time in going to see her. With painful feelings of presentimentwe mounted the steep stairs to her room. 

As we entered, Madame Bertin came toward us with her apron to her eyes andMile. Virtud made signs for us to come over to the bed, as she slightlyraised the sick girl's head. 

"Dearest Marguerite, " said our teacher; "Here are Paula and Lisita. "

"May God bless them both, " and Marguerite spread out her ams toward us, adding, "Oh, Paula, please sing again, 'There's no night there!'" And Paulasang once more the old hymn. 

 "In the land of fadeless day Lies the city foursquare; It shall never pass away, And there is no night there. 

 "God shall wipe away all tears; There's no death, no pain, nor fears; And they count not time by years, For there is no night there. 

"Oh, how beautiful!" And it seemed as if the poor blind girl were strainingthose sightless orbs for a glimpse of the Beautiful City. "Don't cry, mother, " she said as she caught a low sob from the other end of the room. "I am so happy now to go to be with Jesus in His City. " The poor mother puther face close to her daughter's lips so that she might not lose a word. 

"One regret only I have, Mamma, " Marguerite said; "and that is, that I havenever seen your face. Oh, that I might have seen it just once. "

"In Heaven, " interrupted our teacher, "your eyes will be open forever. "

"Oh, yes, " said the dying girl. "There perhaps I will see Mamma andVictoria. Will you please give Victoria a kiss for me when she comes homefrom the factory tonight Tell her I'm so grateful; she has worked so hardfor us!" Then suddenly--"Paula!" she called--"Paula!"

"Here I am, Marguerite, " and Paula came closer, taking her hand. 

"Ah, you are here. Thanks, dear Paula, " she gasped. "Many thanks fortelling me about Jesus and His love for me. Sing--"

The sentence was never finished, but Paula's sweet voice rose, as onceagain she sang the sublime words:

"There is no night there. "

"Is she dead?" I said, as we looked down on the still white face. 

"Her eyes are open now, " said Mlle. Virtud tenderly, "in the City wherethere is no night!"

CHAPTER TWO

THE BRETON

It was a snowy, blustery day. It is always a source of pleasure to see thedrifts beginning to bank against the houses across the street On thisafternoon the bushes and roofs were already crowned in white, and all thetrees were festooned as if for a holiday. The smaller objects in the gardenhad disappeared under this grand upholstery of nature, and the rattle ofthe carts and other ordinary sounds of the village were muffled in themantle of snow. To be sure Paula dampened my pleasure a bit by reminding methat there were many people who were in great suffering on account of thestorm, without proper food, warm clothing, or fire in their houses. 

It had been a hard winter. Many of the factories in town had had todischarge their workers on account of lack of orders. Happily, Teresa withCatalina's help had done all she could to aid the poor folks in ourneighborhood. Paula had sewed incessantly. Her stitches were pretty unevenand the thread frequently knotted in her nervous hands, but Teresa saidthat the mistakes she made were more than made up by the love that she putinto her work. 

I read to Paula while she sewed, and we were certainly happy when at lastthe mountain of old clothes which had been gathered for the poor had beenmade over and finally distributed to the needy ones. 

I remember especially one poor woman to whom Teresa had sent us with apackage of clothes, who received us with tears of gratitude. 

And now, as I sat looking out at the gathering drifts, I heard Catalinaremark in a relieved tone, "At last that's finished!"

"What's finished?" I asked. "My old dress, " she said. "Who would havethought I could do a job like this! But there it is turned and darned andlengthened. Happily, I don't believe that poor Celestina Dubois will bevery difficult to please"--and Catalina pulled a comical smile. 

As one looked at that peaceful, beautiful face it was hard to realize thatit could belong to the poor, miserable, complaining invalid of a short timebefore!

"What a shame that it's still snowing so hard, " she said, "I would haveliked to have sent it over to Celestina today. Teresa says the poor womanneeds it badly. But I suppose we'll have to wait till morning. "

"That won't be at all necessary, " said Paula, "We're not afraid of a littlesnow; are we, Lisita? If you only knew how I love to go out into asnowstorm like this!"

"You must be like the mountain goats of your own country, " said Catalinawith a laugh. "To think of getting any pleasure in going out in asnowstorm!"

"Oh, no!" said Paula. "The goats don't like the cold. "

"Well, I declare!" said Catalina, "I wouldn't have believed that! Well, runand ask permission of Teresa. "

And Teresa dressed us up as if we were going on a voyage to the North Poleand gave us a thousand instructions. "Above all things don't 'dilly-dally'on the way, " she said. "The Breton was released from jail today, and youmay depend on it he will not be in a very good humor. What a shame thatCelestina should have such a terrible neighbor. You can never tell what aman like that may do. If my rheumatism would only let me, I would gladly gowith you. "

"What on earth would we do if we happened to meet the Breton?" I questionedPaula, and terror began to grip my heart as we drew near the drunkard'shouse. 

"Don't you be afraid, Lisita, " said Paula, taking my trembling hand inhers. 

Celestina received us with exclamations of surprise and delight. 

Overcome with emotion, she said, "To think of your coming to see me throughall this terrible storm! I never would have expected you on such a day!"

We noticed a shade of sadness in her tone, and Paula questioned her as tothe reason. 

The old lady shook her head. "No, there's nothing particular, " she said;"the Lord seems to heap good things upon me; but at times on nearing theend of the journey the pilgrim gets a bit tired and longs for the blessedfinal rest. " Then she paused and turned to us once more with a smile. "Andyou, young people, how goes the journey with you?"

"I too find, " said Paula gravely, "that at times the way is difficult, butas we put our hand in that of the Lord Jesus, He helps and strengthens us. "

The old lady's eyes were full of amusement as she answered, "My, oh, me!You talk as wisely as an old traveler who is about to finish his longjourney instead of being still at the bottom of the hill. And your uncle!Has he begun to go with you yet?" "My uncle, " and Paula hesitated, "atleast he permits us to serve the Lord. "

"But he doesn't let you attend church yet?"

"No, but I think he will some day. "

"Courage, Paula, " said the old woman, "the Lord Jesus has said, 'Be thoufaithful unto death, and I will give thee the crown of life!' How happy Ishall be when your uncle permits you to attend with us. I know the Lord hassaved you and given you eternal life, and He will do exceeding abundantlyabove all you can ask or think. I've learned to say to Him, 'Thy will bedone!' While here on this earth we're all students in His school. Sometimesthe hours are long and the bench is hard, but if we are attentive and aptin the learning of our lessons, He is faithful, and oh, so generous ingiving us of His good things! Some things He's tried to teach me, but I'mtoo dull yet to comprehend, but I do know that some day He'll let me see itall quite clearly. For example, it's difficult to understand why He shouldhave given me the Breton and his children for neighbors. Do you know thefamily?" she asked us. 

"Oh, yes, indeed, " said I; "I should say we did. " This long conversationhad made me sleepy, but the mention of the Breton had brought me wide-awakeagain. 

"It I had known, " continued the old lady, "that on the other side of thepartition I was to hear nothing but quarrels and fightings and cursing, Iwould never have moved in here, but more that that, not content withdisturbing the peace from within his own apartment, he even comes over tomy side to torment me here in my small room. The Breton indeed is aterrible man when he's drunk. I have tried to talk to him to see if I coulddo something to change his evil ways, but so far all my efforts have beenuseless. "

I interrupted her to ask if she knew he had been liberated from the jailthat very day. 

"Oh, yes, " she said; "he made a terrible scene this morning bullying hispoor wife around. The poor soul is certainly worthy of our pity. But here Iam talking on and on without enquiring once as to Catalina's health. "

"It was Catalina herself who sent us with this package for you, " saidPaula. "For me!" cried the old lady. "What's all this?" and she nervouslyuntied the strings. Then as she saw the good warm dress, her eyes filledwith tears. "May the Lord bless the dear girl! He surely must have revealedto her my need!"

"Would you mind, please, putting it on? Catalina wanted us to find out ifit fits you, " I said. 

The good woman nothing loath tried on the dress as she exclaimed, "My, ohme, how handsome I am for once in my life, at least, " and a merry twinkledanced in old Celestina's eyes, "I'll have to keep this for Sunday wearonly. "

"No, " said Paula, "Catalina said to be sure to tell you it was for everydaywear, for you see how it keeps out the cold. "

"Well, then, " said the old lady, "I suppose I must obey orders. But my, howbeautiful it is, too beautiful for the likes of me!" And Celestina strokedthe lovely cloth with her gnarled and withered fingers. "How very good thedear Lord is! And now if you don't mind, let us pray together here to thankHim for all His mercies. " Celestina who could not kneel, placed her handson our bowed heads, and after a heartfelt prayer of thanks asked the Lordto bless us each one and each member of our family, her neighbors, andlastly herself. 

Hardly had she finished when uncertain steps were heard coming down thepassage. The door suddenly burst open and a man staggered into the room. 

"What's this you're doing?" he shouted. 

"We're praying, " the old woman answered tranquilly. 

"No more praying then! Do you hear me? I forbid you!" he shouted again insuch a terrible voice that it was all I could do to keep from screamingwith fright "You know very well, " said Celestina calmly, "that you cannotprohibit my doing the thing that pleases me in my own house. "

"And what pleasure do you get out of praying, tell me, you pious oldhypocrite!"

"Well, if you'll sit down calmly in that chair yonder, I'll answer yourquestions. "

"And suppose I don't care to sit down! Do I look as if I were tired?"

"Perhaps not, but when you visit your friends you should try to pleasethem, shouldn't you?"

"What! Do you count me as one of your friends?"

"And why not?"

"This is why!" and the Breton shook his great fist in the old lady's face. "Oh, I'm a bad one I am! I could kill all three of you in a jiffy! Why, Ijust finished a month in the jail for 'regulating' a fellow-worker at thefactory, and I don't mind doing another month for regulating you people!"And the poor fellow's face was more terrible than his words, and I thoughtour "time had come, " as the saying is. 

"Now, don't you be afraid, " whispered Celestina, as she drew me close; "Godis with us; don't forget that!"

"Why do you wish to harm us?" she said aloud, fixing her eyes on the poordrunken brute, in such a calm, loving and compassionate way that it seemedto calm him a bit. 

"We've done nothing against you, and I can't for the life of me see how wecould have offended you. I am glad they let you go free. Now if you care toaccept our hospitality I will make you a cup of coffee. It's not the bestquality but you're welcome to what I have. "

The Breton looked at the old lady in an astonished sort of way. "You'recertainly different from the rest of 'em. Here I threaten to kill you, andyou offer me a cup of coffee! That's not what I deserve, " and here he brokeout laughing immoderately, and sat down by the stove where a fire wasbriskly burning. 

"Well, this is a whole lot better than the prison anyway, " said the Bretoncoolly, as he settled himself to enjoy the warmth. 

"I should say so, " said Celestina, "and there's no reason for you to goback there either. "

"Now none of your sermons, you know, for if you come on with anything likethat I'll be leaving at once, " and it was clear that the Breton's bad humorwas returning. 

"Well, that would be to your disadvantage on a cold day like this, " saidCelestina with a dry little smile. 

"That's a fact, that's a fact. Brr! What weather!" and the poor drunkarddrew closer to the fire. "Aren't you two afraid to go out in such asnowstorm?" he said, turning to Paula and me. 

Celestina answered for us that we lived in the big house at "The Convent, "and that we had come to deliver a good warm dress for her to wear. Withthat the good woman poured out three cups of coffee, which she set beforethe Breton, Paula and myself. "And where's yours?" said the Breton as heswallowed his coffee in one great gulp. 

"Oh, some other time I'll have a cup myself. "

"Well, just as you please, " said our unwelcome guest. "My! but that warmsone up though! My wife never so much as thought to get me a cup of coffee. "

"And do you know why?" questioned Celestina severely. 

"I suppose you're going to tell me it's because I don't give her enoughmoney; is that it?"

"Precisely! And that's the truth; isn't it?"

"Now none of your sermons, as I told you in the beginning; didn't I? Don'tI know? Of course it troubles me to see the children with their pale faces, that used to be so rosy and fat like these two here. By the way what's yournames?"

Again Celestina answered for us--"The smaller girl is the daughter ofMonsieur Dumas, and the other is her cousin, Mademoiselle Paula Javanel. "

"Paula Javanel! Paula Javanel!" repeated the Breton as if trying toremember something. "I think I've heard that name before, " and he lookedfixedly at Paula for some seconds, and then suddenly he laughedimmoderately. "Yes, yes; now I remember! Ha! ha! ha! Now I know! You're the'Cat Mother'!"

"Cat Mother!" and Celestina looked much puzzled. "What on earth do youmean?" I had completely forgotten the ridiculous nickname that the Breton'sson had given her, for the boy had run away from home several years ago. 

"They called me that, " explained Paula, "because I once saved a cat'slife. "

But the strong coffee had quite restored the Breton's good humor and hehastened to add, "Yes, she did; but she hasn't told the whole story! She'sthe only person in the whole village that was ever brave enough to stand upto that big brat of mine. She wrenched the cat out of his hands, and theboy came back to the house, I remember well, with a pair of ears wellpulled and the air of a whipped dog. "

"But I didn't pull his ears, " said Paula, reddening. 

"Well, if you didn't, who did, then?"

But Paula shook her head and would say nothing further. 

"Well, anyway, I remember that the boy was made fun of by the wholeneighborhood, and to revenge himself he gave her 'Cat Mother' for anickname. He, too, is a bad one like his father. To tell the truth he neverobeyed anybody, and dear knows where he is or what he's doing now. At leasthe's not like you two who came here to learn how to pray with Celestina. "

"Paula doesn't need to learn how to pray, Monsieur Breton, " said Celestina, "she's known how to pray for years, not only for herself, but also forothers. "

"For years, you say! And who then taught her to pray?" said the Bretonsurprised. 

"It was my father, " said Paula quietly. 

"Your father! Well, he wasn't much like me, then; was he!"

"No, he wasn't, " and Paula without a sign of either fear or abhorrencelooked compassionately at the brutalized face that confronted her. 

"And you don't live with him any more?"

"No, " said Paula; "father is in heaven. "

"And whatever would you do if you had a father like me?" and the poorBreton looked at her keenly. 

Paula sat a moment with closed eyes. She recalled the strong noble face andfigure of her dear father and asked God to give her a reply to the poordrunkard's question. 

"I think, " she said at last, "I would ask God Himself to make him a man ofGod like my father. "

"And do you believe He could do it?" The Breton looked very doubtful. 

"I'm sure of it!"

"Yes, but you don't know how bad I am. "

"Yes, I know, " said Paula; "everybody in town knows you're a bad man, butyou're no worse than the bandit who was crucified with the Lord Jesus; andyet Christ saved him; didn't He?"

"That's more or less what I am--a bandit, I suppose. I remember that story. When I was a little boy my mother told it to me. I never thought at thattime that I'd ever become the thing I am today. What would my poor motherdo if she could see what had become of me?"

"Perhaps she'd pray for you, " Paula said simply. 

"She! Yes, I think she would have prayed for me, " he said. "But why talkabout my mother! I, who have just come out of prison;--hated, despised, andmade a laughingstock by everybody in our neighborhood, even pointed at bythe little street-urchins! My children fear me! My poor wife trembles whenI appear! Who would ever think of praying for a brute like me?"

"I, " said Paula with a voice vibrant with emotion. 

"You? Why you scarcely know me!"

"But I do know you, and I've prayed many times for you, Monsieur Breton. Doyou think it didn't distress me when they told me you had been put in theprison where people say it's so cold and dark inside, and where many diefrom the exposure, and what is the greater calamity--die without hope ofsalvation. "

"And so, while I was in prison you prayed for me?"

"Well, from the time I heard about it, " said Paula, "I've prayed for youevery night, Monsieur Breton. "

The poor fellow bowed his head. This young girl, so beautiful, so pure, soinnocent, had taken him and his shame, and misery and wickedness, to thethrone of Grace in her prayers each night during his recent stay in thejail!

"You! You've been praying for me!" The Breton remained silent, overcomewith a greater remorse than he had ever felt in a court of justice. 

"If I could believe, " he said in a low voice, "that a man like me couldreally change--but no! That's impossible! It's too late!"

"It's not too late, " Celestina said, "God pardons sinners always if theytruly repent. Now you listen to what He says: 'Though your sins be asscarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they be red like crimson, they shall be as wool. ' And here's a bit more, 'Seek ye the Lord while Hemay be found, call ye upon Him while He is near; let the wicked forsake hisway and the unrighteous man his thoughts; and let him return unto the Lord, and He will have mercy upon him; and to our God for He will abundantlypardon. ' And then St. Paul gives us God's message also with these words:

"For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour; who willhave all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth. Forthere is one God, and one Mediator between God and men, the Man ChristJesus; who gave Himself a ransom for all" (1 Tim. 2:3-6). 

"Do you really believe, " said the Breton, as if in a daze, "that there'shope for such as me?"

"Yes, I do, indeed!" And here Celestina quoted, "The Lord is longsuffering to us-ward, not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance" (2 Pet 3:9). 

But the poor Breton shook his head as if to say, "It's impossible!"

Here Paula broke in, "Ask pardon now, and Jesus will pardon you! Ask itnow! Surely you don't want to go on as you have done. The Lord loves you, and is waiting to save you. He shed His blood on Calvary's cross to takeaway the guilt of your sin. Then also, would it not be wonderful to alwayshave bread in the house--to see that your poor wife no longer fears you, but instead, welcomes your homecoming. Ask Him now, Monsieur Breton, andHe'll work the miracle in you just as He did when He made the paralyzed manto walk. You would be so much happier than you are now. "

She had drawn very close to him, and now she took his great gnarledhands--those hands that so many times had worn the handcuffs. Taking themin her own beautiful ones, she raised those wonderful eyes to the brutal, bloated face, and said simply, "We will help you, Monsieur Breton!"

"And what are you going to do, Mademoiselle?"

"I don't know yet, but we'll do what we can!"

The poor fellow tried to thank her, but could not utter a word. Somethingin his throat seemed to be in the way, and in spite of all his efforts atself-control, great tears began to run down his cheeks. 

Suddenly he turned exclaiming, "Let me alone! Don't you see you're tearingmy very heart out! For thirty long years I've never shed a tear. "

Here Celestina quoted Isa. 35:8, 9, 10: "And a highway shall be there, and aWay; and it shall be called The Way of Holiness; the unclean shall not passover it, but it shall be for those: the wayfaring men, though fools, shallnot err therein. No lion shall be there, nor any ravenous beast shall go upthereon, it shall not be found there; but the redeemed shall walk there:and the ransomed of the Lord shall return, and come to Zion with songs andeverlasting joy upon their heads: they shall obtain joy and gladness, andsorrow and sighing shall flee away. "

But the Breton already had turned the door-handle, "You're surely not going out yet!" said the old lady sadly. 

"Celestina, I must go! If I stay one minute more I know I must yield, andI'm not going to do anything foolish. No! No! I've served the devil toolong. But look here! If you wish to help me, then you can do one thinganyway. You can pray for me!" Saying this, the poor Breton opened the doorand was gone. 

CHAPTER THREE

SAVED!

That night on our return we poured into Teresa's sympathetic ears all thathad occurred during our eventful visit that afternoon at Celestina's house. Then somewhat later as I was helping her with the dishes in the kitchen, Teresa said, "Do you know, Lisita, it wouldn't surprise me in the least tosee the Breton converted and changed by God's power into a decent, respectable man. No one seems to be able to resist Paula when she begins tospeak of God's love. She seems truly inspired by His Holy Spirit. Childthough she is, she surely is His messenger to all with whom she comes incontact But there's just one thing, "--and Teresa seemed to hesitate toexpress herself, then finally she continued, "I cannot seem to shake offthe feeling that she will not be with us much longer. I believe somehow--Iknow it sounds absurd in one way, but I have a feeling that God will callher to His side some day soon. "

"Oh, Teresa!" I cried, "how can you say such a thing! Why, she's neversick! She's much bigger and stronger and more vigorous than even I am. Andbesides, I never, never could bear it to have Paula taken from me!"

"Hush! Hush, child! Don't shout that way, Paula will hear you! Besides it'sjust a foolish idea of mine, maybe. But if God should wish it--But there, as you say, what would we do without the dear girl?"

Later when we were alone in our bedroom I said to Paula in an anxious tone, "You don't feel sick; do you, Paula?"

She looked at me surprised--"I should say not!" She laughed, "What put sucha notion in your head? Do I look as if I was sick?"

I was so relieved! Teresa was quite mistaken!

"No!" continued Paula, "on the contrary, I never felt better in my life. Since I had that little touch of scarletina a while ago I've never had anache or a pain. In fact, as I look around and see so much sickness andsuffering, I long to share my good health with these other less fortunateones. "

And as I looked at her tall well-developed figure outlined against thewindow, I laughed at my foolish fears. But a few moments later as shekneeled there in the moonlight in her long white night-dress, and as Ilooked at that pure beautiful face with the eyes closed in prayer, with itsframe of glorious hair, I knew that never had I seen anything so lovely asthis child companion of mine just budding into womanhood; and the one word"Angel" seemed to express the sum of my thoughts regarding this dear onewho had come into my life and who had transformed so many other livesaround me. 

As she rose at the conclusion of the prayer, finding me still on my feet, she said with surprise in her tone, "Not in bed yet, Lisita?"

"No, " I said, confused that she should find me still seated on the edge ofmy bed, lost in my own reflections. 

Paula suddenly went to the window and looked out, "Oh, Lisita!" sheexclaimed, "how wonderful! Come and see. "

The storm had stopped in the late afternoon, and now the moon shone in allits splendor, touching the snow with silver and making millions of itscrystals sparkle like diamonds in the moonlight. 

"How white and pure and beautiful everything is!" said Paula. "Do youremember, Lisita, how only yesterday we remarked how squalid and dirty thewhole village looked? And now, what a lovely change!" She hesitated amoment, and then continued in her quiet, simple way. 

"It's God that has done it! It's quite a bit like when one gives theirheart to Jesus Christ. He takes it stained and scarred with sin, and thenHe makes it white like the snow. Don't you see, Lisita?"

"Yes, I see, " I said. 

"Do you really see, dear Lisita?" And Paula drew me quite close to her. "Then why don't you give your heart to Him? I do love you so! You see, Idon't wish to seem to be any better than you--but when I get thinking ofthe fact that you never really have given your heart to Him, and if one ofus should die--"

I could not bear another word. The very idea of death either for Paula ormyself was simply unbearable. "Stop!" I cried, in such a terrible tone thatPaula, I could see, was frightened. "You mustn't die! I cannot live, and I_won't_ live without you! I know I'm not good, but if you weren't here tohelp me what would I do?"

My overwrought nerves, due to the happenings at that afternoon visit atCelestina's, combined with what Teresa had suggested, were too much for me, and here I broke down completely. 

"Oh, Lisita!"--there was real consternation in Paula's voice, "I'm so sorryI hurt you! You must get to bed, and don't let's talk any more tonight. "

I dreamed of Paula the whole night long. I saw her either dying or dead, orin heaven with the angels; but in the morning all my fears had disappearedand a few days later I even forgot the whole thing. 

A week passed, and we had seen nothing of the Breton. Paula mentioned himseveral times, and I know she was praying for him. Teresa had gone to seeCelestina, but she hadn't seen anything of him either. Apparently he hadgone out early each day, and had returned very late. He had been theprincipal subject of our conversation as each night we came together in thebig warm kitchen on those long winter evenings. Finally one evening just aswe were finishing the dishes, there came two hesitating knocks on the outerdoor. 

"I wonder who can be calling at this hour, " said Rosa. 

"It sounds like some child that can't knock very well, " said Catalina. "Open the door, Lisita!"

Only too glad to abandon my towel, I ran to open the door, but hardly had Idone so when I remained petrified and dumb with surprise, hardly able tobelieve my own eyes. There stood the Breton twisting his battered capnervously between his bony fingers. The little oil lamp, which we alwayskept lighted at night in the passageway, illuminated his pale face andgaunt figure. 

"Good evening, mademoiselle, " he finally managed to say, and then hestopped, apparently as embarrassed as I was. 

"Who it is?" said Teresa, as she started to come to my rescue. 

"It's the Breton, " I said. 

"Well, tell him to come in, " said the old woman kindly. 

As timidly as a child the Breton advanced over the threshold a few paces, looking about him in a kind of "lost" way until his eyes encountered Paula, and then he seemed to recover his ease of mind. 

"I wish to speak with the Master, " he said--directing his words to Teresa. 

She led him into the study where my father sat, and left them together andthen joined us in the kitchen once more. 

"I declare!" said Rosa. "Think of the Breton calling on us! I thought hehated father since that day he discharged him from the factory two or threeyears ago. "

"The Breton knows very well that when your father got rid of him he welldeserved it, " said Teresa, as she adjusted her spectacles and settled downto her knitting. 

My father did not keep him long. From the kitchen we could hear the dooropen and my father's voice bidding the Breton a kindly "good night"Evidently the interview, although short, had been quite a cordial one. 

"Go, tell the Breton to come into the kitchen, Lisita, " said Teresa. 

I wondered as I saw him enter with such a humble, frank air, and with a newlook of peace that seemed almost to beautify the brutalized face. 

"Mademoiselle Paula, " he said as he stopped in the middle of our kitchen, "I wish to say a word or two. "

"To me alone?" said Paula rising. 

He hesitated a moment. "No, " he said finally, "I think it's better to sayit to you before everybody here. Do you remember how you spoke to me on theafternoon of the great snow? I don't remember very well what you said. Myhead wasn't in very good condition as I'd left my wits behind at the liquorshop. But I know you spoke to me of my mother and you also said that Godwould change me if I really desired. I didn't dare believe such a thing, Mademoiselle--it seemed just a bit too good to believe. That night I simplycouldn't sleep. I seemed to feel my hands in yours and to hear your voicesaying, 'I'll do what I can to help you. ' At last I couldn't stand it anylonger. I got out on the floor and kneeled there before God, and I askedHim to have mercy on me, and change my wicked old heart if it werepossible. "

Here he stopped to wipe away the great tears that were rolling down hischeeks. Then pretty soon he continued, "God did indeed have mercy on me. Ideserved to be refused, but apparently He doesn't treat people as theydeserve to be treated, and now, mademoiselle, will you continue to help meas you promised to do?"

"Yes, of course, " said Paula; "What can we do for you?"

"Just one thing. Pray for me! That's what I need more than anything else. Iwant to be faithful to Him and serve Him, but I don't know how to begin, and when one has served the devil as many years as I have it's hard tochange masters. "

"The Lord Jesus will help you, " answered Paula. 

"He's already done it, Mademoiselle, " said the Breton. "If not, how could Ihave endured these last days. At first I had a raging thirst for more drinkuntil I nearly went crazy. Then my old companions called me out and urgedme to go and drink with them, and I had almost yielded when suddenly Icried to the Lord Jesus to help me, and then a wonderful thing happened!All desire for the drink went away, and I've been free ever since! Thentoo, I had no work, and my wife taunted me with that, and I wandered up anddown looking everywhere for something to do. Unfortunately everybody knewme and knew too much about me, so there was no work for such as me. " Thensuddenly the poor, thin face was illuminated with a smile as the Bretontriumphantly said, "I came to this door tonight as the very last resort, never dreaming that my old master really would employ me, but just see thegoodness of God! I can face the world again, for I'm going back to my oldbench at the master's factory!"

"My! How glad I am!" exclaimed Paula. 

"Yes, Mademoiselle, but I have you to thank for your great kindness to me. "

"I, " said Paula surprised; "why what have I done?"

"You, Mademoiselle! You made me feel that you really loved me. Also, youpersuaded me that God loved me, miserable sinner that I am. But if tonightin this district you find one more honorable man and one criminal less, letus first thank God, and then you, Mademoiselle!"

"Do you own a New Testament?" said Paula as the Breton started to leave. 

"A New Testament; what's that?"

"It's a book--a part of the Bible--that tells us about the Lord Jesus, andhow He saves us from the guilt and power of sin, and how we can serve Him. "

"Well, Mademoiselle, " replied the Breton, "if it's a book, it's of no useto me. I don't know how to read!"

Paula looked at him with a mixture of surprise and pity. 

"I might have been able to read, " continued the poor fellow. "My mothersent me to school, but I scarcely ever actually appeared in theschool-room. The streets in those days were too attractive a playground. "

"But you could begin to learn even now!"

"No, Mademoiselle, " and the Breton shook his head sadly, "It's too late nowto get anything of that sort in this dull head. "

Paula said nothing more at the time, but I could see that she had somethingin her mind relative to this new problem. 

CHAPTER FOUR

THE YOUNG SCHOOL-MISTRESS

The following day Paula had a word with my father regarding the matter. 

"Now don't worry any more about the Breton, Paula, " he answered. "He knowsenough to do what's necessary to gain his living, and if he wants to workfaithfully and not spend all his money on drink, he can do that withoutknowing how to read. However, if it bothers you because he cannot read, whydon't you advise him to go to night-school? I can't imagine what could havehappened to him, but he's changed mightily, and for the better. I only hopethe change in him will last!"

 * * * * *

The days grew longer, the snow disappeared and the trees and fields beganto put on their spring clothes. Week by week the Breton's home also beganto show a marvelous transformation. The pigs who formerly found the gardena sort of happy rooting-ground now found themselves confronted with a neatfence that resisted all their attacks, and the garden itself with itswell-raked beds, showed substantial promise of a harvest of onions, potatoes and cabbage in the near future. Spotless white curtains and shinypanes of window-glass began to show in place of the dirty rags and paperwhich used to stop part of the winter winds from entering, and the rainwhich formerly kept merry company with the wind in that unhappy dwellingnow found itself completely shut out by shingles on the roof and sidewalk;and a certain air of neatness and order so pervaded the whole place that itbecame the talk of the little town. 

"That's all very well, but it's not going to last long, " said some. 

"Well, we shall soon see, " said others. 

The Breton had to stand a good many jests and taunts from his formercompanions but he took it all without either complaint or abatement of hiscourage. 

"I don't blame you one bit, " he said to one of his tormentors, "for I wasonce exactly the same--only I hope some day you'll be different too. In themeantime, comrade, I'll be praying for you. "

"You must admit I'm a changed man, anyway, " he said one day to a group whomade sport of him. 

"That's true, right enough, " said one of them. 

"Well, who changed me?"

Various opinions were offered to this question. 

"Well, I'll tell you!" he thundered, and that stentorian voice which alwaysused to dominate every assembly in which he mingled, held them spellbound!

"It was the Lord Jesus Christ. He died for me--yes, and He died for everyone of you. He shed His blood on Calvary's cross to keep every man fromhell who surrenders to Him in true repentance. Then He does another thing!His Holy Spirit takes away the bad habits of every man who surrenders toHim. He said once, 'If the Son shall make you free, ye shall be freeindeed!' Now you look well at me! You know what a terrible temper I had. You've tried your best in these past weeks to make me angry but you haven'tsucceeded. That's a miracle in itself. You can say what you like to me nowbut you won't make me lose my temper. That's not to my credit, let me tellyou! It's God Himself who's done something that I don't yet clearlyunderstand. The money I earn, I dump it all in the wife's lap, for I knowshe can handle it better than I can! Then there's another thing! When I getup in the morning now, I ask God to help, and He does it. When I go to bedat night, I pray again. Let me tell you, if I should die I'll go to heaven, and there I'll meet my dear old mother, for it's not what I've done, it'swhat _He's_ done! It isn't that I'm any better than any of you. No! Thereisn't one of you as bad as I was, " he continued, "but if God was able tochange and pardon a beast like me, He can surely do the same with all ofyou. So what I say is, why don't you all do just the same as I've done?Surrender yourselves into Christ's hands!"

Little by little, seeing it was useless to try to bring the Breton backinto his old ways, his tormentors were silenced at least, and a life of newactivities commenced for the former drunkard. 

"You certainly appear to be quite happy, " said Paula, as we passed theBreton's garden one evening where he was whistling merrily at his work. 

"I certainly am that, " said he, raising his head. "There's just one weighton my heart yet, however. "

"And what's that?" Paula's voice was sympathetic. 

"It's that I cannot read. "

"But I didn't think that that fact interested you very much. "

"Yes, I know, Mademoiselle, but I didn't comprehend what I had lost, butnow I'd give my left hand if I could only read. "

"Poor Breton, " I said. It seemed to me we were a bit helpless before such aproblem. 

"It isn't that I want to become a fine gentleman, and all that"; and theBreton turned to address me also--"It's simply that I want to be able toread the Great Book that tells about God and His Son Jesus Christ. Also Iwould like to help my children that they might have a better chance thanhitherto I have given them. But there you are! I'm just a poor ignorantman, and I suppose I always shall be. "

"Well, " said Paula, "why don't you attend the night school?"

"No, Mademoiselle, " and the Breton shook his head; "that's all very wellfor the young fellows who have learned a little something and wish to learna bit more. But me!--at my age!--and I don't even know the letter A from B, and I have such a dull head that I would soon tire out the best ofteachers. "

"Well, supposing I tried teaching you?" said Paula timidly. 

"You, Mademoiselle!" cried the Breton stupefied, "you to try such a thingas to teach me!"

"And why not, if my uncle should let me?"

"Well, Mademoiselle, that would be different. I believe that with you toteach me I might be able to learn, " and the Breton leaned on his spade fora moment. 

"You are so good and kind and patient, I would not be afraid of your makingfun of my stupid efforts. But there, there's no use thinking about such athing, for I'm sure the master would never permit it. "

 * * * * *

In fact, it did take a good deal to persuade my father, but Paula won hispermission at last. 

The Breton came every Saturday night Teresa complained a bit at first, seeing her kitchen turned into a night-school for such a rough ignorantworkman, but "for Jesus Christ's sake, " as Paula said, she had finallybecome resigned to it. 

It was both pathetic and comical to see the efforts which the poor Bretonmade as he tried to follow with one great finger the letters which hisyoung teacher pointed out to him. He stumbled on, making many mistakes butnever discouraged. Sometimes the sweat poured from him when the taskappeared too great for him. At such times he would put his head in hishands for a moment, and then with a great sigh he would start again. 

At the end of a month he had learned the alphabet and nothing more, andeven then he would make mistakes in naming some of the letters. 

"Oh, let him go!" said Teresa; "He's like myself. He'll never, neverlearn. "

But Paula's great eyes opened wide. 

"Why! I simply can't abandon him unless he should give it up himself. Besides, have you forgotten, Teresa, what it cost me to learn to sew? Butin the end I did learn; didn't I?"

So Teresa was silenced. But once the Breton had conquered this firstbarrier to learning his progress was truly surprising. In the factory his"primer" was always with him. At lunch hours he would either study alone, or he'd persuade a fellow-worker more advanced than himself to help himwith his lesson. Paula was astonished to see how quickly she could teachhim a verse in the New Testament or a Waldensian hymn she had learned inthe valley back home. 

Nevertheless a week or two later she noticed that he seemed to be a bitdistraught, and she feared he was getting weary of his task. 

"What's the matter?" she finally asked him. 

"Oh, nothing, " and the Breton grinned rather sheepishly. 

"Tell me, Breton, what's on your mind?"

He "guffawed" loudly as he replied. "You'd make fun of me sure, if I toldyou--and with good reason!"

"I never make fun of anybody, " said Paula reproachfully. 

"No, Mademoiselle, I ought to know that better than anybody else! Well, perhaps it might be well to tell you. If you must know it, it's this. Thereare many, I find, that wish they could be in my place tonight"

"In your place tonight! I'm afraid I don't understand, " said Paula. 

"Well, you see, I've got four or five of my old comrades who also want tolearn to read. "

"What's that you say?" Teresa said, leaving her knitting to stand in frontof the Breton. 

"It's true enough, Mademoiselle Teresa, and when you come to think of it, it's not a bit strange. Down at the factory they all know how different andhow happy I am. And how they _did_ make fun of me when I started to learnto read; just as they jeered at me when Jesus Christ first saved me and Ilearned to pray. But now some of them, seeing how happy I am, also want tolearn to read, and who knows but some day they will want to know how topray to the Lord Jesus also. "

Paula's face took on a serious expression--finally, however, she slowlyshook her head. 

"You know, with all my heart, I'd just love to see it done; but it'sperfectly useless, I suppose, even to think of it, " she said sadly. 

"That's what I thought too, " said the Breton; "I'm sorry I spoke about it"

"Well, I don't know, " continued Paula. "Perhaps if uncle could arrangesomehow--I remember when I was quite small, back there before I left thevalley, my dear god-mother had a night-school for laboring men. It was justlovely. They learned to read and to write and to calculate. Thenafterwards, each night before they went home they would sing hymns and readthe Bible and pray. "

"Yes, that's all very well, " said Teresa, "but your godmother was a wholelot older than you are. "

Then turning to the Breton she said, "Why don't you tell your friends to goto the night-school in town?"

"Well, " said the Breton, "I know that they learn 'many things there, butthey don't teach them about God. However, as I said before, I'm sorry Imentioned the thing. Let's not speak any more about it"

"Well, " said Paula, "I know what I'm going to do. I'll speak to the LordJesus about it. "

And Paula kept her promise. 

One morning, Teresa usually not at all inquisitive, could not seem to keepher eyes off a certain little group who were engaged in moving out of oneof the "Red Cottages" across the road. More than once she paused in herwork of tidying up the house to peer out of one window or another. 

"That's the very best of all the 'Red Cottages, ' and they're moving out ofit" remarked Teresa finally. 

"Of what importance is that?" I said to her rather sharply. I was washingwindows, and that task always made me irritable. 

"I've got a certain idea!" Teresa said. 

"Tell me your big idea, " I said. 

"No! You go ahead and wash your windows. I'll tell you tomorrow. "

The next day I had forgotten Teresa and her "idea. " As I started for schoolshe called after me, "Tell Mademoiselle Virtud, your teacher, that I wantto see her just as soon as possible I have to speak to her aboutsomething. "

In a flash I remembered what had happened the day before, and I guessed atonce her secret. 

"Teresa!" I cried, "I've got it now! You want Mademoiselle Virtud to occupythe house across the road. Oh, that'll be just wonderful!"

Teresa tried to put on her most severe air, but failed completely. 

"Well, supposing that's not so!" she said, as with a grin she pushed me outof the door. 

Mademoiselle Virtud came over that very afternoon. I hadn't been mistaken. She and Teresa went immediately across the road to see the empty house, theowner having left the key with us. At the end of a half-hour they returned. 

"It's all arranged, " and Teresa beamed. "She's coming to live here rightacross the road. I've thought of the thing for a long time, and now at lastthe house I wanted is empty. Monsieur Bouché has promised to fix the fenceand put a new coat of paint on the house, and with some of our plantsplaced in the front garden, it will be a fitting place for your dearteacher and her Gabriel to live in. "

"You'll certainly spoil us!" said Mlle. Virtud. "What a joy it will be toleave that stuffy apartment in town. And Gabriel is so pale and weak! Thislovely air of the open country will make a new boy of him!"

It was a wonderful time we had, arranging things before our new neighborsmoved in. Teresa bought some neat linen curtains for the windows of thelittle house. Paula and I gathered quantities of flowers from our gardenand placed them over the chimney-piece, and on the bedroom shelves and inthe window-seats--and how the floors and windows did shine after we hadfinished polishing them!

When our teacher arrived in a coach with Gabriel packed in among the usualquantity of small household things of all kinds, great was her gratitudeand surprise to find, in the transformed house, such signs of our care andaffection for her. It was indeed the happiest moving day that couldpossibly be imagined. There wasn't a great quantity of furniture, and in anhour or so after our new neighbors' arrival we had everything installed inits proper place, to say nothing of the bright fire burning in the tinygrate and the kettle singing merrily above it. One would hardly havedreamed that it had been an empty house that very morning. Even Louis whohad come home for a week-end holiday had sailed in and worked with us inputting the little cottage in order. 

That night the newly-arrived tenants ate with us, after which Louis carriedGabriel pick-a-back to his new home across the road. 

Our teacher's prophecy regarding Gabriel was a correct one. Day by day hegrew stronger. Teresa looked out for him during school-hours, and with hisbright happy ways he soon became a great favorite with the neighborhoodboys. 

 * * * * *

"Tell me, Paula, " said my father one evening, "how is the new pupil comingon?"

"Which new pupil?" our cousin said as she came and stood by my father'schair, where he sat reading his paper. 

"The Breton, of course. Surely you haven't more than one pupil?"

"For the present, no!" she answered, with a queer little smile on her quietface. 

"For the present, no. " repeated my father; "and what may that mean?"

Paula rested her cheek against the top of my father's head. 

"Dearest uncle, " she said, "will you please grant me a great favor?"

"Now, what?" said my father--and the stern, serious face lighted up with asmile. 

"You see, the Breton has almost learned to read, and it would be justsplendid if some of his old comrades and his two sons could learn too. "

"Oh, Paula, Paula!" said my father--"where is all this going to end?"

But Paula was not easily daunted, especially when the thing asked for wasfor the benefit of other people. 

"Now, why won't you let me teach them, dear uncle?" She came and kneeled atmy father's feet, and took both his hands in hers. 

"But you're only a very young and very little student, Paula. You must betaught yourself before you can teach others. " My father's voice was verytender, but firm as well, and it didn't look to me as if Paula would win. She said nothing in reply, but stayed kneeling there at his feet with thosegreat appealing eyes of hers fixed on his face. 

"We shall see, we shall see, " said my father gently, "when you've finishedyour own studies. Besides I think you're reasonable enough to see that sucha task along with your studies would be too big a burden for a child likeyou. I could not let you take this up. "

"I suppose you're right, dear uncle, " said Paula humbly, as she rose andrested her head against my father's shoulder, "and yet if you could onlyknow how happy it would make the Breton and his comrades. And besides, " sheadded, "I had fondly hoped that if I could have taught them, they wouldlearn much about the Lord Jesus and take Him as their Saviour, as theBreton has done. "

"You seem to think of nothing but how to serve your 'Lord Jesus, '" andthere was a wistful sort of tone in my father's voice. 

"Well, am I not His servant?"

"No!" said my father, "I'd call you a soldier of His, and one that's alwaysunder arms!"

"That's because I have such a wonderful, such a kind, and such a powerfulCaptain. I wish everybody might come to know Him! And to know Him is tolove Him!"

There followed a moment of silence, so solemn, so sweet, that it seemed asif a Presence had suddenly entered, and I personally felt my soul in thatmoment suddenly lifted toward God as it had never been before. And as Ilooked at Paula standing so humbly there her eyes seemed to say: "Oh, myuncle, my cousin, would that you, too, might love Him and receive Him asthe Saviour of your soul!"

"Listen, Paula, " my father said; "will you leave the Breton and his friendsand his sons in my hands for the present?"

Paula looked at him searchingly for a moment, as if trying to find out whatwas in his mind. 

"Of course!" she finally said. 

"Well, then, just rest content. I'll try to see the thing through somehow. If I'm not very much mistaken, these protegés of yours will have verylittle to complain of. "

"Oh, uncle dear!" shouted Paula, delighted, "what are you planning to do?"

"I don't know yet exactly, but I've thought of something. No! No! Don't tryto thank me for anything, for I don't know how it will come out. But, " hesmiled as he laid his hand on Paula's head, "you certainly have a method ofasking for things that I don't seem to find any way to refuse you. "

CHAPTER FIVE

THE NIGHT SCHOOL

For the first time in my life a great secret had been confided to me. Ofcourse, I felt quite proud that they had considered me important enough tobe a sharer of the secret. But my! What a struggle it was not to tellPaula!

In a few days it would be Paula's fifteenth birthday, and the whole familyseemed endued with the same idea, to make it an especially happy andunforgettable occasion. 

Paula must have suspected something with all the coming and going; thewhispering and smothered giggles in corners, etc. , but she wasn't the kindto pry into other people's affairs, and so, no matter what she may havethought, she kept her own counsel. 

On the morning of the great day, which to our great satisfaction, came on aSunday, Paula was quite a bit surprised to find that Mlle. Virtud andGabriel had been invited over to breakfast; but aside from that occurrencethere was nothing unusual as yet to indicate that we were celebratingPaula's birthday. 

When the meal was finished, however, my father folded up his napkin, andwith an air of mock gravity said, "Why, let me see, this is Paula'sbirthday; isn't it? I suppose Paula's been wondering why there were nogifts piled up on her plate. You see, Paula, we've all combined on the onegift, but it's too big to put on the dining-table. However, it's not faraway. Let's all go and have a look at it together. "

He led the way out of the house and across the road, and we all followed. 

I presume the neighborhood received quite a shock of surprise to see such aprocession of folks coming out of the big house. Many came and stood intheir front door-yards to view the unusual sight, for instance, of Louiswith his arm linked in that of our old servant Teresa, and Paula herself onour father's arm, and the rest of us strung out behind. 

We finally stopped in front of Mlle. Virtud's newly-painted little house, with its tiny garden in front in all the splendor of its spring dress. 

"Come in, Paula, " said our teacher of former days. "Your present is in herein this front room. "

We all followed after Paula, eager to see the result of her inspection ofthe "present. "

Paula took one step, and then stopped on the threshold. 

"What do you think of your birthday present, Paula?" said my father. "Doyou think the Breton and his comrades will be content to come here to studyand to leam to sing, etc. , in this room?"

"Oh, uncle dear!" and that was all she could say as she embraced and kissedhim with a gratitude we all knew well was too deep for mere words toexpress. 

Suddenly Louis pulled her hair a bit, saying, "Well, how about the rest ofus. Aren't you going to thank us too? There are a lot of folks here thathave had a share in this business. "

Paula gave him a smile in which she included all of us in her thankful joyand gratitude. 

"Why!" said Paula, "this was the room everybody thought was useless, andwhich was in such bad condition that the landlord didn't think itworthwhile to fix up!"

"Yes, " said my father; "it's the very room. I confess one would hardlyrecognize it, but when Monsieur Bouché understood what it was to be usedfor, he went to unusual trouble to fix it properly. You'll have to thankhim especially, Paula. He has a reputation of being not always so amiable. "

"I will take him a lovely bunch of flowers, " said Paula. 

"Humph!" said Louis, "I'm sure I don't know what he'd do with them. Hedoesn't often get flowers from his tenants. "

Paula walked about the room as in a dream, examining everything. 

The table in the center had been loaned by Dr. Lebon. The lovely redcurtains were a present from Mlle. Virtud. Rosa and Louis had given the twolong benches on each side of the table. My father had given theschool-books, and I had bought pencils and copy-books from my monthlyallowance. It was all very simple and severe, but to Paula's eyes thesegifts brought together in the little whitewashed room seemed to her quitewonderful. 

"Look up there, " said Louis, "you haven't seen that yet, " and Paula sawhanging from the ceiling a fine new lamp to which a white paper seemed tobe tied. Louis reached up and took down the paper for her, and she read asfollows: "In great gratitude from the Breton. "

"Now, look here, " said Louis, "you don't need to weep over it! The Bretonis only grateful for all you've done for him. Thanks to you, he's been ableto save up a little money lately instead of spending it all on drink. 

"Now, look here, " he continued, "you don't need to weep to an elaboratelyembroidered motto on the wall containing the Lord's words to the weary onesof earth. 'Come unto Me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I willgive you rest. '"

"Oh, it's all too much!" said Paula completely overcome. "How can I thankyou all for what you've done?"

"Your gratitude and happiness is sufficient reward for us, " said my father. "I don't know what put the idea in our heads. I suppose you will say it wasGod, and perhaps you are right. All I know is that I spoke to Mlle. Virtudof your desire to have a night-school for the Breton and his friends, andthen spoke to others about it and--well, now you've seen the result. Youowe most of your thanks to Mlle. Virtud who brought the thing about andgave us the use of the room. "

"Which room, " said Mlle. Virtud, with a dry little smile, "had no valuewhatsoever, you'll remember. "

"And another thing, " said my father, "she is the one who has taken over theresponsibility of the night-school. Otherwise I could not have permittedyou to take up such a task. Then Rosa is going to help when she can, andLisita has an idea she can do something also. "

"And I, " said Louis, "where do I come into the picture?"

With a grin my father turned to his son, "That's where you're only in thebackground for once. "

It was decided, in accord with Mlle. Virtud, to have classes twice a week. Thursdays would be for reading, writing and arithmetic, and Sundays wouldbe a time for learning songs and for putting their studies into practice byreading in the Bible, and, for what several had been asking, namely, tolearn how to pray. 

If the Breton was a model scholar, this could not be said of his twoyounger sons. These boys appeared to be much below the average in naturalintelligence, besides the fact that their ordinary educationalopportunities had, as in the case of Joseph, their older brother, beendecidedly neglected. Their father had compelled them to attend the"night-school, " but apparently they didn't seem to grasp what it was allabout. Without any apparent cause they both would suddenly duck down belowthe table to hide their merriment. Whatever story, no matter howinteresting, was read aloud, they didn't appear to comprehend a word of it, and if a chapter from the Bible was read they either showed elaborate signsof boredom or else they would doze in their seats. Paula would gaze at themsadly--her young heart was grieved at such colossal indifference. 

The three comrades of the Breton, however, were decidedly different, takingup their studies with great eagerness and listening well to everything thatwas read aloud. 

"It's a whole lot better here than spending our money at the liquor shop, "they would say with a smile of satisfaction. 

"I'll say so, " the Breton would chime in. "I'll tell you what, comrades, ifI'd known only before all that one gains in Christ's service, I would havestarted long ago on this new life with Him. "

The happiest and most beloved of all in the school was Gabriel. He was sohappy that he was able to come in and study with the others; and when itcame to singing, his marvelously fresh and clear tones outclassed themall--that is, all but one. 

I seem to hear yet those lovely hymns that were sung with such sincerityand heartiness--but the voice that rang clear and true above all others isnow mingling its notes with the choirs of heaven. 

CHAPTER SIX

THE HOUSE OF GOD

It was vacation time--in August. Teresa said she had never seen a dryer ora hotter summer in her whole existence. Gabriel and his sister had gone tovisit their family in the country and we had our usual "red letter" time atGrandmother Dumas' house. We had returned from our visit greatlyrefreshed--all except Paula, who seemed to have lost somewhat of thatperpetual happiness which, when she appeared on the scene had always beensuch a tonic to us all. She had tried her best not to show it, but she gaveus all the impression that she tired very quickly. 

"I think the reason you tire so soon is because you're growing so quickly, "said Teresa. Paula laughed and said that that wasn't her fault. 

One morning my father seemed to be looking at her more intently than usual. He finally said, "You're not feeling well; are you, Paula?"

"I'm all right, dear uncle, " she said. "Sometimes I get a bit tired. Ithink it must be the heat. "

"But, my dear child, you hardly eat anything at all, and you've lost thoseroses in your cheeks. "

He still continued looking at her--then suddenly he said, "I'll tell youone thing that I think would please you very much. Do you know what thatwould be?"

"What, sir?" and Paula seemed to regain all her usual animation. 

"I think, " said my father slowly in a low voice as if talking to himself, "I think you"--and he paused a moment--"What would you say if you were togo to church with Celestina on Sundays?"

"Oh, dear uncle, could I really go?" Paula jumped to her feet excitedly. 

"Yes, I think I'll let you go--and"--again he hesitated a bit--"if Teresa, Rosa and Lisita wish to, they may go along too. "

"And you, dear uncle, will you not come with us?" questioned Paula, as shelooked into the sad, stern face that had softened considerably of late. 

"We shall see, we shall see. But you'd better not count on me. My, oh, me!Just see! Those roses have all come back again!"

"Well, but you don't know how happy you've made me!" said Paula as shefairly danced out of the house with me to tell the news to Celestina. 

"Well, " said Celestina, "all I can say is that the Lord heard my prayersand yours, dear Paula. It's the great weapon of the weak and needy, and infact can be the power to serve all and anyone who will surrender themselvesand all they are into the hands of the Saviour. "

We had seated ourselves near the door of her little cottage. Something inthe deep tones of the old lady's voice seemed to search my very heart. Wealways enjoyed listening to this old saint who, like Enoch and Noah, walkedwith God. We seemed to be drawn closer to God in her humble little cottagethan in any other place. 

"You see, " she continued, "I'm old and quite feeble, and besides I'm poor, and can't do very much for other folks; but there's one thing I can do, andthat is, pray. And I do pray for everybody--and especially for you and yourfamily, my dear young friends. God doesn't let me see many results of myprayers, but that doesn't discourage me. I just keep everlastingly at it, and I can leave the results to Him. Has He not said, through the mouth ofHis Apostle John, 'This is the confidence that we have in Him, that if weask anything according to His will, He heareth us, and if we know that Hehear us, whatsoever we ask, we know that we have the petitions that wedesired of Him. '

"I remember once hearing a certain hymn about prayer. I never couldremember all the verses, but most of it has remained deeply engraved in mymemory although I only heard it once. It was sung by a young missionaryfrom Africa who happened to be passing through Paris. It was at a meetingwhich I attended as a young girl many years ago. "

"Please sing it to us, dear Celestina, " said Paula, "even though you maynot remember it all. "

"Well, my dear young friends, " said Celestina, "that old hymn has been mycomfort and the inspiration of my prayers through all the years since Iheard it sung so long ago in Paris where I lived when I was young. Here itis"; and as those quavering notes sounded we seemed lifted toward thatheavenly Throne of which she sang. 

 On heavenly heights an Angel stands. He takes our prayer in heavenly hands, And with celestial incense rare, He mingles every heart-felt prayer Of those who trust His precious blood To reconcile their souls to God. 

 "Then from that glorious, heavenly place Descend the lightnings of His grace; To heal, to strengthen, and provide, For those who trust in Him Who died. 'Who died, ' I say?--Yea, He Who rose Triumphant, Conqueror of His foes!

 "Who is this priestly Angel bright, Who thus dispels our darkest night? 'Tis He who sets the captive free, Jesus Who died on Calvary's tree; Who is, Who was, and is to come-- The glory of His Father's Home!

"Well, " said Paula softly as the last note died away, "I've prayed much formy dear uncle that he might be saved. "

"And God will hear and answer you, my dear, according to the scripture I'vejust quoted. Let me tell you something. Your uncle came here to see me afew days ago, and I believe he is not far from the Kingdom of God!"

"Oh, " cried Paula, "I would give everything to see him truly saved!"

 * * * * *

Never had I seen Paula so happy as when we entered the little oldevangelical church in the Rue San Eloi. 

We had had the natural timidity of new-comers, and had feared more thananything else that battery of eyes which would surely be turned on us atour entrance. It was therefore a great relief to find that the meeting hadalready begun, and an empty pew well toward the back that held us all, seemed to beckon to us with a sort of mute welcome. 

Hardly were we seated when I noticed Paula (who had of course beenaccustomed to church-going at her old home in the valley) had kneeled, andwith her eyes closed seemed to be offering a prayer. This was soon endedand she resumed her seat. It was all so new to me that I could not at firsttake in much of the details of the service. 

The preacher had a fine noble face which seemed to light up especially asthe hymns were heartily sung by the whole congregation. 

Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed to me that a quiet smile ofapproval passed over his face as his eyes rested on Paula who so ferventlyjoined in the songs--all of which seemed quite familiar to her. 

It was an affecting thing, that vision of my girl companion. In her whitedress with its blue sash at the waist, and with her wide white straw hat, she made a lovely picture. In that frank open countenance I think I readher thoughts. Here in God's house she had entered once more the PromisedLand from which she had been exiled for four long years!

Suddenly the sun came from behind a cloud, especially designed, I thought, to send a ray of rose-colored light through one of the stained-glasswindows of the church over that beautiful face at my side which now showedonly rapt attention to the simple gospel message saturated with God's Wordthat flowed like a mighty river from the preacher's lips. 

As we came through the door on our way out, I caught a glimpse of myfather's tall form just disappearing around a bend in the Rue San Eloi. Ithink he must have stolen up to the door and had been listening outside!

CHAPTER SEVEN

IN HIS PRESENCE

At times I have wished to efface from my mind the memory of those lastmoments that Paula was with us. Yet as I think of the dwelling to which shehas gone, and also the manner in which she went--in the path of duty--tothe House of Glory, as a good soldier of the Cross, I bless God and kneelin gratitude to Him for having loaned her to us for those four preciousyears when He used her to bring us all to the bleeding side of the Saviour, and thus make us new creatures in Christ Jesus. 

 * * * * *

It was on the Wednesday after that Sunday when we had first attendedchurch. It had been a day of terrible heat. The oppressive atmosphereseemed to promise an electric storm. Louis who had forgotten a study bookwhen he went to school on Monday, had returned to get it. Paula had triedto study, but I could see she was having great difficulty. 

Suddenly Teresa appeared and called Paula to take a letter which my fatherwished to send to a man who lived in the Rue Fourmi. 

"Go quickly, Paula, there's a storm brewing, but I think you can easily getback before it breaks. The Rue Fourmi is not far away. "

Paula had no time to answer before Teresa disappeared again to the otherend of the house. 

Paula turned to Louis, who was about to start out for his uncle's house, where he stayed during the week in order to be near his school. 

"Louis dear, " she said, "won't you please take this letter on your way backto your uncle's house?"

"No, " said Louis sharply; "I never go that way. "

"No, I know that; but it would only be a few steps out of your way to leaveit there, and--well--you see--I have quite a headache. "

"Teresa told you to take the letter, not me. A fig for your headache! It'sonly that you're too lazy to stir!" said Louis. 

"Louis!" I shouted, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself! You know wellenough Paula's always willing to do anything for anybody! I'd go myself, but I simply can't leave what I'm doing now. If Teresa had remembered, shewould have given you the letter and you know it! If you don't take it, I'lltell father!"

"Do as you please, " said Louis coolly. "I'll not be bothered with it!"

I was furious and couldn't keep back the angry tears that now began to rolldown my cheeks. 

"Never mind, Lisita, " said Paula, as she ran for her hat. Then as she wentthrough the door she turned for a last look at Louis, "Won't you pleasetake it, Louis?" she said. 

"No!" said Louis--"and that's that!" and he turned his back to Paula. 

"Good-bye, Louis dear!" she finally said without the least show of anger, as she left the house. "We'll be seeing you again on Saturday. "

She ran down the street quickly in order to return before the gatheringstorm broke. 

Louis followed shortly to return to his uncle's, whistling cheerfully as hewent; but his cheerfulness seemed to me to be a little too exaggerated tobe real. 

After I'd finished my task I sought out Teresa at the other end of thegreat house. 

"Paula has a bad headache, " I said. 

"Why didn't she tell me that?" said Teresa. "I'd have sent Louis, but Ididn't think of it at the time"

I opened my mouth to say something, and then I shut it again. I had begunslowly to learn from Paula's example not to be a "tattle-tale. "

Meanwhile the sky grew darker. Suddenly Teresa said, "I don't know what's keeping Paula, Here, Lisita! Take this umbrella and goand meet her. I'm afraid she'll be caught in the rain before she getsback. "

I soon found her as she turned in at the bottom of the Rue Darnetal. "Wemust hurry, " she said as the thunder began to mutter in the distance. Hardly had she spoken when a flash of lightning almost blinded us. This wasfollowed almost immediately by a great crash of thunder that seemed toshake the very ground under our feet. Then came a sound of confused shoutsas if something had happened at the other end of a cross street that wewere passing. Could it be a house had been struck by the lightning? No, theshouts increased and changed to cries of terror. Soon we guessed the cause, as we heard a rushing sound of galloping horses, which, frightened by theflash and the clap of thunder, came in sight around a bend in the streetenveloped in a cloud of dust, dragging a heavy wagon behind them. Instinctively Paula retreated to a protecting doorway and I huddled interror close beside her. 

"Lisita!" she called suddenly. "Look! look!" What I saw was something thatseemed to freeze my blood! Directly in the pathway of the onrushing horses, totally unconscious of his danger, was a little boy of about three yearsold toddling along in the middle of the road. One instant more and it wouldhave been all over! Suddenly Paula left our shelter like a shot from a gun. Then I heard a sharp cry that rent the air like a knife, and then--I canremember little more--just a confusion of people running hither andthither, and then for me all was darkness, but in that darkness I seemed tohear still that piercing cry of anguish. 

 * * * * *

When I came back to consciousness I found myself on the sofa in ourdining-room, with Catalina bathing my face and hands with cold water. 

"Where's Paula?" I cried, for I remembered at once that terrible scene inthe Rue Darnetal. 

"Paula is in her room, " said Catalina, turning her head to hide the tearsthat would come in spite of all her efforts. 

I tried to rise and go to our room. 

"Stay where you are, Lisita!" said Catalina. "You may go a bit later whenyou're feeling stronger. "

But now a terrible suspicion crossed my mind. "Catalina, " I cried, almostbeside myself with fear, "tell me the truth! Is Paula dead?"

"No, Lisita; Paula's not dead, " as she tried in vain to detain me; "She isstill breathing--and"--but I heard nothing more. My legs trembled strangelyas I stumbled toward our bedroom. Once there, again that terrible darknessstarted to come over me, but it was only a momentary weakness. With aneffort I steadied myself as I came near the bed where my dearest one lay sostill--that lovely face so white, the lips slightly parted with just afaint stirring of the breath. 

The room was full of people, some weeping silently, some trying to chokeback their sobs. Others, like my father and Dr. Lebon, with an agonyshowing on their faces much more terrible than any tears. 

All this I saw as in a horrible dream from which I hoped to awake at anymoment. But, no!--I soon realized it was all too true. This was the firstreal grief of my life, and I had to sustain it alone for I had not yetyielded to Him who sends comfort to His children in their time of anguish. He did take pity on me, however. In the next room I hid my grief inTeresa's arms--Teresa, who more than anyone else, knew the love that hadunited me to Paula. 

"Oh, Teresa, " I cried, when I found myself alone with her, "she must notdie! She must not! I simply cannot live without her, you know that! Oh, pray for _me_, dear Teresa. God will hear your prayer. He probably wouldn'thear mine. Tell Him! Oh, please tell Him, Paula must not die!"

"No, Lisita, " Teresa said as she dried my tears; "We must leave Paula inGod's hands. He loves her more than you and I could ever do. If you couldsee that poor broken body as I've seen it you would not ask that she shouldlive! Yes, indeed, she was happy with us. She was to us all like an angelicmessenger sent from God to draw us to Him and to show us the way to heaven. And now He's called her to Himself almost without suffering, for sheappears to have become insensible from the instant that the horses struckher down. Listen to me, Lisita! Soon Paula will be in heaven at herSaviour's side--her Saviour whom she loved so well; and in her dearfather's company of whom she spoke so often. 

"We must think of her happiness, dear Lisita, not our own, from this dayforward. Paula, you remember, never thought of herself. Her thought wasalways for others, and it was for another that she died. She gave her lifeto save that little boy. So she followed in the footsteps of her Saviour, as a good soldier of the Lord Jesus who died to save all who repent andbelieve on His blessed name. "

The voice of our old servant, so tender, so motherly, seemed to heal mysorrow. When I became calmer she told me some of the details of thetragedy. Paula had, dashed in front of the horses just in time to throw thechild out of danger but had been unable to escape herself. That much Iunderstood; but from that day to this, I have never been able to bringmyself to ask for any more details. It seems I had fainted, and theycarried us both home. 

Poor Teresa, I knew how ardently she, too, loved our Paula, but courageousand unselfish her only thought, as ever, was for us. In consoling me sheforgot her own sorrow. As I looked at that strong calm face lighted up asfrom an inner brilliance, it seemed to take on a striking likeness to thedear one whose life was ebbing away in the next room. There came to my minda verse from a Bible story that Paula had told us once. It was this:

"The spirit of Elijah hath fallen on Elisha. "

 * * * * *

A stream of neighbors came in from everywhere. It was in those last momentsas these humble friends passed before that unconscious form that we came tocomprehend how many lives had been touched by the simple country girl fromthe Waldensian mountains. Some remembered her just from the smile withwhich she always greeted young and old as she passed up and down the longstreet at our end of the town. Others spoke of the loving adoration of thechildren whom she had protected and defended. Still others mentioned thekindness she had shown them, and poured out many stories of Paula'suniversal love for all--of her visits to the poor and sick, and of how shehad pointed them to the Saviour who had died to take away their sin;bringing joy and hope and liberty into many a home where only discord andmisery had reigned before. 

So the tears of many of our humble, friendless neighbors mingled with ourown as we waited for the end. 

But there was one on whom the blow fell more terribly than on any one ofthe rest of us, for it was a bitter mixture of remorse and shame that Louishad to bear. When he arrived at the house after being summoned from ouruncle's place, and came to a full realization of what had happened, for aninstant he seemed turned to stone. Then a sharp cry came from him. In thatshort moment he seemed to change from a careless, selfish boy to a man--aman awakened at last to his terrible need of a change and with atransforming purpose in his life from that day forward. 

Louis demanded that I tell everybody present what had happened thatafternoon. When I refused, he poured out the whole sorry, sordid story ofhis selfishness without one word of excuse, saying as he finished, "So yousee, it was I who killed her, for there was no need of her stirring fromthe house. " Then he turned to my father imploring him to punish himseverely. He said he could ask no pardon, for he had done what heconsidered unpardonable. For answer my father took him in his arms; and Iknew that at that moment my father and Louis came to understand each otherbetter than they had ever done in their lives before. 

"No, my poor boy, " my father said; "you need no further punishment. Now goto your heavenly Father and ask Him to make you His child. " And I know thatLouis did so. 

 * * * * *

In silence we waited. Paula was the bond of love that had united us all;not only to one another but now also to God. How wonderful, how beautiful, had been that short life, and how she had poured out her love upon us. Again the scene came back to me of that moonlight night at this samebedside, when at prayer she had seemed more like an angel talking with theOne who had sent her to us, than merely the simple, honest-hearted countrygirl that she really was. 

Suddenly the door opened slowly and a woman poorly dressed entered, leadinga little boy of about three years old. When he saw us he stopped and turnedto hide behind the folds of his mother's dress. 

"Come in, come in, " said Teresa kindly, as she led them both to the side ofmy dear one lying there so white and still. 

"Oh, Carlito, " exclaimed the poor woman turning to her little son as shedropped upon her knees beside the bed. "How I wish you could understand!This is that lovely one who saved your life! She took your place thereunder the horses' hoofs!" Then taking Paula's two hands in her own shesaid, "Oh, Mademoiselle, oh, that you might hear me! Would that I might dosomething in return for what you have done for my boy! Oh, is there nothingI can do?"

"Yes, my dear woman, " said our old servant--and her eyes werestreaming--"I'll tell you what you can do. Nothing would have pleased Paulabetter than to have known that you had taken the Lord Jesus as yourSaviour. Also you may take this dear child and dedicate and train him forGod's service in the days to come. "

"That, " said the poor woman, "I solemnly promise to do if you will show mehow. "

Thus it was that our Teresa had the joy of pointing her first soul to theSaviour. 

Tenderly my father cut off two locks of that beautiful hair of our dearone, and as the woman went out he said. "Take this one and keep it alwaysin remembrance of the rescuer of your little boy; and this other one, " andhe held out the second to her also, "keep it for him until he's old enoughto understand. "

Taking them from my father's hand she silently kissed them and placed themin the bosom of her dress as she and her little one glided through theouter door. 

Louis had gone out on a special errand, and he soon returned, bringing withhim from the factory the object of his search. The poor Breton, followed byhis sons and all the other "scholars" of the night-school, started to enterthe room and then stopped abashed at the threshold. At the invitation of myfather however, one by one they all came to the bedside, pale and shakenwith emotion. 

"I'm glad you were able to get here before the end came, " said my father. "Oh, if you could only know how she loved you all!"

The Breton suddenly broke down and cried like a child. When he couldcontrol himself he said, "It was but this very morning that I passed her onthe street. She seemed just like a happy bird as she waved me 'goodday, '--and now--now--to find her dying here!"

"May the dear Lord's will be done!" said Teresa. 

The poor Breton had buried his face in his hands, but suddenly looking up, he said humbly, "You're quite right, Mademoiselle Teresa--but, you see, Mademoiselle Paulawas more to me than it seems she could mean to any one of you. I was adrunkard and a robber--a monster of iniquity! I was despised and hated andfeared by everybody, and for good reason. But there in Celestina's kitchenthat day, Mademoiselle was not afraid to take these rough hands--thesehands that had been so often stained with crime and violence in her ownpure white ones to tell me she would help me! She it was who taught me topray. She it was who had prayed for me while I was in prison. I have seenmen ground to pieces in the gears of a machine in the factory. I've lookedon death in many terrible forms without shedding a tear--but this one!--oh, Mademoiselle Paula! Would that I could have died in your place!" And againquivering with emotion, the Breton turned and leaned against the wall tohide his tears. 

Suddenly a convulsion shook the form of my dear one and Dr. Lebon steppedforward and took her hand. "The end is coming, " he said. 

My father dropped on his knees beside the bed. "Oh, Lord, " he said, "I, too, would be Thine own. Is it too late for me?"

At that moment a hand was laid on his shoulder. It was the same hand thatyears ago had been laid on his wife's eyes to close them for the last time. That same hand had tended and cared faithfully for his children ever since. 

"Monsieur! My good Master!" said Teresa, in a tone of tender love andrespect such as I had never heard her use before, "It is not too late! Hehas said, 'Him that cometh unto Me, I will in no wise cast out. '"

My father looked up. "Well, then, Teresa--I come to Him. "

The dear old woman dropped on her knees and with folded hands simply said, "Thanks, dear Lord, for Thou hast answered my prayer, and Paula's too!"

 * * * * *

The storm of wind and rain had passed. In the little gardens of the "RedCottages" across the street, the flowers once again began to raise theirheads and the birds began to sing as the sun came out once more. 

Suddenly there came a soft sigh from the still form on the bed. Dr. Lebonnodded as he turned away. His task was ended. The Good Shepherd had takenHis tired lamb in His arms. 

 * * * * *

Then the sound of a deep voice was heard, saying, "Except a corn of wheat fall into the ground and die it abideth alone, butif it die, it bringeth forth much fruit. "