CHAPTER XXI.

THE FRENCH CHATEAU.

THE spring and early summer passed both pleasantly and profitably to Helen. She had begun her work in the parish, had her own district for visiting, and had gathered a class of seventy children, from the outskirts of the town, which she had formed into an infant Sunday School, and taught them by oral instruction.

Though under twenty years, her zeal and energy infused new life into the labors of the younger church members. By her own example, she proved what could be done toward inducing those who had long neglected public worship to frequent the house of God. She assisted in the formation of a Young Ladies' Charitable Society, and from her own purse, provided material for clothing, for many of the poor of the town.

In this Society it was her endeavor that the law of charity, as described by St. Paul, should govern the members. She proposed playfully, that every one who was guilty of speaking ill of another, should pay a fine into the treasury. In this way the tone of morals was raised, and the popularity of their pastor's wife elect was not decreased.

But in the midst of all this prosperity, sad news came to Helen. News of the decease of Miss Constance DeWolf, and afterward of her brother's failing health.

It was indeed true, that the loss had deeply affected the young lawyer. His depression of spirits brought on an attack of fever; and then a sudden cold was followed by a severe and obstinate cough, which his physician feared would seriously affect his lungs.

Helen, overpowered by the arguments of her pastor, had just consented to be married in September, when a telegram came to her from the physician, that her brother's life was in danger; and that in order to avert the threatened calamity, he must take a sea voyage, and reside for the winter, at least, in a more salubrious climate.

Before Helen showed the telegram to any one, she decided, with a burst of tears, that it was her duty to accompany her brother abroad. Many were the headaches and heartaches before she embarked with her charge on board ship, leaving so many dear ones behind her.

Mr. Knowles, feeling it to be impossible for him to leave his parish to accompany them, would not give consent to her going until he had received a letter from Sybil, that she would take the part of mother to the children of her old friend Mr. Edmond. But this arrangement, which relieved Helen of so much care, was given up at the last moment, in consequence of the sudden illness of her father. And Frederic, torn with disappointment and anxiety, was obliged to commit the travellers to the care of a gentleman who was returning to France with an invalid daughter.

It is easy to imagine, then, with what impatience the lover and aunt awaited the first intelligence from the absent ones.

First, came a hastily written note, in place of the long journal Helen had promised, just saying that sea-sickness and care of Frank had deprived her of the pleasure of writing on board ship; that the captain had shown them every kindness; and that they had concluded to accompany their new friends, Mr. and Miss LeFavor, to France, for the winter.

In a few weeks, however, a thick package, bearing a foreign postmark, came to hand, directed to the Reverend Frederic Knowles.

As it was addressed in part to Mrs. Prescott, I do not think I shall violate the rules of etiquette by copying it.

"'VERY DEAR FRIENDS: By this time I am quite sure a letter from the wanderers will be welcome. It would be much pleasanter to sit on my low chair between you, in auntie's pleasant chamber, and talk of all I have seen and felt since I left home, but as that is impracticable at present, I must let my tongue rest while my pen performs the welcome task.

"'The voyage to Liverpool was not so favorable to poor Frank's health as we hoped. For several days I was too sick to see him, or even to hear much from his stateroom, and his spirits, thus left to himself, suffered deplorably. Since we have reached this quiet village, the mild air and entire change of scene have benefited him greatly. We have a pleasant home just outside the churchyard, where we are so favored as to find a Protestant church and an excellent Rector. He is upward of seventy years old, but his complexion is still fresh and ruddy; while his long silver hair which waves over his collar is indeed a crown of glory.

"'Monsieur D'Ortey and I are intimate friends. Don't laugh, Fred. Indeed it astonishes me when I find how freely I can tell him all the trouble I have in keeping this erring, wayward heart of mine in subjection. I wish you could see how tender he is with our dear invalid. While Frank was asleep, I took a walk with him and told him the sad story of Constance's early death. I described how they had loved one another, without a cloud of difference ever arising between them. I could see that his feelings were deeply moved.

"'Monsieur is a widower and childless. He has a married couple in his vine-covered cottage, who take care of him. They too are past the meridian of life, but they are kind, and attentive, and suit his quiet tastes better than strangers. He once had sons and daughters around him, but they are all lying in the churchyard. He can see their simple monuments without moving from his study-table. Often before I go to rest, I sit at my window, and watch the pretty shadows made by the moon among the boughs waving over their graves. There is nothing sad to me in this; for I know it is only their inanimate bodies which rest there, while their souls are alive and full of bliss in the presence of their Saviour.

"'Monsieur D'Ortey is always cheerful, but there is something about him which convinces even a stranger that his happiness springs from a heart chastened and purified in the furnace of affliction, that his treasure is laid up in heaven. The dear man fancies I resemble his youngest daughter; perhaps this is the reason he talks to me so much about the loved circle that once flitted so joyously through his vine-embowered home.

"'I have told you so much about him, because I want you to be as well acquainted with his character as he is with yours. He knows, dear auntie, what a kind mother you have been to the daughter of your niece. He knows Fred, that I left my heart away over the sea, and that only a sense of duty to my afflicted brother prevents me at this moment from bearing the name of one I so dearly love. He smiles often as I describe every member of the family, and really laughed yesterday as I repeated some of Sybil's quaint speeches.'" * * *

The next steamer brought a continuation of Helen's journal; she began:

"'Thank God with us, dear friends, Frank's health is really improving; and what is very favorable, he seems willing to live. I have won him to talk of dear Constance, and Monsieur spoke to-day so cheerfully of his loved ones as only gone before, that I hope Frank will be won to the same view.

"'I do believe it was the finger of our heavenly Father that led us to this place. No one could be more kind than dear Monsieur D'Ortey. I, who am often a looker on, sometimes smile to notice with what skill he is interesting our invalid in schemes for usefulness.

"'About half a mile from us there is an old building unlike what we ever see at home. It is built near a beautiful spring of water, clear as crystal, which has a peculiar taste, very pleasant, and is used as medicine. It is called la fontaine d'or, or the Golden Spring, and was so named by an American traveller many years ago, from its resemblance to the Golden Spring in Jamaica, West Indies, which is so celebrated for its virtues; and it has retained the name over since, even by the natives, who come a long distance with their buckets or pitchers for the water.

"'The chateau, as it is called, stands on an elevation just back of the Golden Spring. It has small diamond-shaped windows, the panes set in lead; and instead of the sash throwing up like ours, a pane here and there opens with a rude hinge. The rooms are almost bare of furniture, the floors uncarpeted and worn, but still there is something delightful to me in the place.

"'The chateau was once occupied as a convent. It has a high wall around it, which formerly took in the Golden Spring, and an immense gate barred and bolted with iron.

"'Monsieur D'Ortey can remember when the rooms were crowded with children and teachers, and when the great bell, hung in a rude tower behind the building, used to echo among the hills many times in a day.

"'At last, the convent was removed to another place where a new and wealthy Abbess had provided a more spacious building, and our good Rector, from his small means, purchased the chateau for his parish school.

"'At first there was such a prejudice against the place that many parents refused to send their children, but this is dying away.

"'When we first came, I learned with how much self-sacrifice Monsieur was paying the teachers. I grew interested at once and begged him to take us to the school. I must describe our ride there.

"'Our kind friend borrowed from his people three donkeys, the most awkward, ungainly creatures I ever saw. Frank really laughed when he saw me mounted on my beast; laughed as I feared I should never hear him again. But when he sat on one of the others, I returned his mirth with interest. Monsieur sat erect on his low donkey, his white, silky locks streaming behind in the wind.

"'At the gate we alighted, and gave the donkeys into the care of a boy, while we tasted the water. Frank described the effect upon him to be exhilarating. I only felt a slight tingling which extended, however, to the tips of my fingers.

"'We went through the gate without ringing, for now it is always open except at night, and found, in the large receiving room, eight children engaged with their books, under the instruction of a pale woman who was knitting fancy articles to eke out her scanty support.

"'In another room there were nine more pupils, all girls, who were learning to sew, or making fancy work for sale. There was a large glass at one end of the hall containing specimens of their skill, which is remarkable for beginners.

"'After visiting our schools and asylums at home, the methods of teaching here appear old-fashioned and deficient in energy. I told Monsieur, I wanted to infuse some of our Yankee ideas into the minds of the children, and wake them up. I wanted to hang up Bible cards and pictures—to introduce a black-board and numeral frame. I wanted to show the little ones, laboring so sluggishly over an old map, the globe, and explain that the earth was round and the countries scattered all over it. You should have seen Monsieur D'Ortey's face while I was talking. It shone like the face of an angel. He put his hand on my head, saying:

"'God bless you, dear child.'

"'Near the gate we stopped again for another draught from the Golden Spring, which Frank calls his elixir, and with a sudden thought our kind friend sent back to the chateau for a flask so that we could take some home.

"'On our way back Frank made me very happy by promising to send to our banker in Paris for a check, to purchase some very simple apparatus for the school. To-day of his own accord, he proposed another ride to the chateau, and we supplied ourselves with flasks for the Golden Spring. As we expected, we met Monsieur there. I went into the girls' school, and talked to them as they worked. I told them about my home across the sea,—about my dear scholars in the Sabbath School,—I told them I loved them and that it would be a sad thought when I left France that I should never see them again. I noticed one little girl put her finger up stealthily to wipe a tear from her eye. I then begged them to love the dear Saviour, who would take them to heaven when they died, and I told them I hoped to meet them there.

"'Frank, meanwhile, was outside the chateau with Monsieur. When they came in, I looked at my invalid in surprise. His cheeks were quite rosy with excitement, and there was an air of resolution about him, I have not seen since his sad loss.

"'They had been talking about the great trees, which Frank is sure, make the house damp. He offered, not only to pay for having them thinned out, but to ride over every day and superintend the work. Is not this hopeful? I think you may look for me quite early in the spring. For dearly as I love Monsieur and the children, at the chateau, my heart ever turns to that small spot in Now England, which holds my loved ones.

"'Before I close my long letter, I must tell you that in consequence of the change of climate, my hair began to fall off, and I was advised to have it cut short. You would be amused to see how girlish I look with my close curls, clustering around my head. In the meantime I have taken pleasure in having some ornaments made of the dissevered tresses. A watch—chain fastened with gold braces, will, I hope, please my pastor; and I think I can persuade aunty and Sybil, each, to wear a ring of the same material."

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