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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