GASPARD AND HIS FAMILY LEAVE THEIR HOME.
THE following morning they were up by daybreak, in order to prepare
for their sad journey. Gaspard fortunately recollected that one thing
which might now be of essential service to them had either been
overlooked, or not considered of sufficient value to have been taken;
this was a donkey which his boys used for such small jobs as they were
able to do about the place; and a day seldom passed without Pedro,
as they called it, having his full share of labour, and by the boys
Pedro was as much prized as anything they possessed. Great was their
joy when their father said he would gladly take it with them; he knew
it would spare much fatigue to his wife and boys.
It will easily be believed that it cost our little party many a pang
to leave their home, and to part with all they cared for. The cross
alone remained to them, and this Gaspard committed to the care of the
good Christine, with the hope that he might one day be able to reclaim
it.
For the last time he and his little family knelt before it, and
implored from God the help and protection they so much needed, as well
as strength to enable them to submit with resignation to whatever
might be appointed for them.
In some measure cheered and comforted by this act of devotion, the
poor soldier, accompanied by his family, set out on their sorrowful
pilgrimage, well provided by their kind hostess with such provisions
as she was able to spare, as well as with a small sum of money, which
Gaspard accepted in the hope of being able some day to repay it.
He could not but believe that his little property would be restored
to him.
They now found themselves wandering they scarce knew whither. Very
different was this journey to the last. They were then going joyfully
to take possession of a home unexpectedly given to them; they were now
turned adrift from that same home, and knew not whether they should
ever behold it again.
Gaspard knew that the Count de Sternfelden had two or three other
estates, and that he resided sometimes at one, and sometimes
at another. He learnt that he had lately been residing at his castle
of Sternfelden, near Mayence, and it was there that Gaspard hoped
to find him.
Gaspard's first object was to reach the town of Ponnering, about four
days' journey from Feldsberg, and where he believed he had a sister
living, but of whom he had heard nothing for some years, save that,
during the time he was actively engaged with the army, she had married
and settled in Ponnering. He was ignorant of her present name, as no
letter from her had ever reached him, though he had accidentally
learnt that she had married a cabinet-maker, and was in good
circumstances; he hoped, therefore, that by personal inquiries he
might be able to make her out, feeling sure that, could he do so,
he would be readily welcomed, believing that neither time nor silence
would in any way have diminished the affection that once subsisted
between them.
To Ponnering, therefore, the little party directed their steps.
The hope of finding a friend there cheered them on their way, and
helped to lighten the fears and anxieties which Gaspard and his wife
could not but feel at the undertaking before them. Had our brave
soldier been alone, he would have feared nothing; he only dreaded
fatigue and hardship for the dear ones who were accompanying him;
he therefore clung to the hope that, if he could but discover his
sister, they might obtain shelter under her roof, whilst he pursued
his way for the purpose of seeing the Count, and putting before him
his sad case, and the cruel injustice with which he had been treated,
and which he well knew the Count would never otherwise be informed of.
The poor travellers, on first starting, trusted to the well-known
hospitality of their countrymen, and neither food nor shelter were
ever denied them; such kind help, in some measure, lightened the
fatigue and hardship of their weary journey.
On reaching the small town of Ponnering, Gaspard resolved without
delay to seek his sister; but not caring to take his wife and children
with hire, or to subject them to wandering about the streets of a
strange town, he entered a barn in a field adjoining the road, and
ventured to leave them in it whilst he went to see if he could obtain
tidings of his sister—hoping, if he did so, soon to fetch them to a
temporary home. With some trouble, and no little difficulty, Gaspard
obtained the information he wanted, and proceeded at once to where he
trusted to find a sister, from whom, by circumstances, he had been
long parted. What, then, was his consternation on finding that she had
been left a widow, and had lately died, and that, having had no
children, the property and business had gone to her husband's brother!
On learning this sad news, poor Gaspard's heart sank within him. He
felt not for himself, but for his wife and children, the eldest barely
twelve years old. Winter had now set in, snow was already whitening
the ground, and he knew not where or how to provide a shelter for
them. He returned with a heavy heart to Katherine. The poor woman bore
the intelligence better than he expected; she had dreaded being
separated from her husband, and, but for her children, would never
have consented to being so. There seemed now no alternative; and in
reply to her husband's inquiry as to what was to be done, she said,
firmly and resolutely—"Dear Gaspard, I will go with you; we will not
be separated; we have shared every danger, we will share this one."
With tears the poor man thanked her for this fresh proof of love and
devotion; he had much disliked parting from her and his boys; he felt
that with them, and for their sakes, he could brave anything, and
willingly encounter any hardship.
The day was now too near its close for the poor travellers to think
of resuming their journey. Gaspard therefore sought the owner of the
barn, to ask leave to occupy it for the night; this was readily
granted, and the weary ones thankfully accepted the rude shelter.
All was, however, clean; heaps of straw and piles of sacks half-filled
the barn; and of these they made use; and found they made no bad beds.
Poor Pedro was safely tethered outside. After a meal of such
provisions as they had, with the addition of some milk kindly given
them by the farmer's wife, they sought the repose so much needed, and
soon slept as soundly as they would have done on softer couches.
The next day, however, brought a fresh trouble; John was too unwell
to admit of the journey being resumed. The poor little fellow could
scarcely raise his head from the rude couch on which he lay. In this
unlooked-for difficulty, Gaspard again sought the farmer, who not only
gave ready permission for them to remain where they were, saying he
had no present use for the barn, but promised to send such little
assistance as they might require. His good wife was readily interested
in the little party, and felt for their distress; so sure it is that
help, in some shape or other, comes, when most needed, from One who
never wholly forsakes those who are His.
Gaspard gratefully endeavoured to repay the good farmer's kindness
by doing such work as he was capable of, and he and Michael were daily
helping at the farm, whilst Katherine tended the sick child and the
little Francis.
A few days rest and care sufficed to restore the boy, and with
grateful and heartfelt thanks the poor soldier and his family prepared
to leave the kind friends and that shelter which had been so readily
afforded them; and, though pressed to remain, they dared not delay,
as the season was getting daily more inclement, and they were,
therefore, anxious to press on ere it became more severe.
The following day Gaspard and his family resumed their toilsome
journey. Snow now covered the mountains, and already lay deep in the
valleys. The sky was overcast, and a keen wind blew, against which the
clothing of the poor travellers but ill protected them. They were
sometimes unable to obtain shelter at night, save what a miserable
barn or shed afforded them.
Added to these hardships, it was not always that they could get
sufficient food; and the effects of hunger, cold, and fatigue were now
being severely felt, especially by poor Katherine, whose strength was
daily diminishing, and which her husband noticed with no little
anxiety, the more so that the poor donkey had fallen lame, and was,
therefore, but of little use to them; and this materially retarded
their progress.
Being now in a part of the country but thinly inhabited, they could
no longer meet with the hospitality which had lightened the trials
of the first part of their journey.
The evening of the ninth day, when the snow was falling fast around
them, and the hearts of the poor wanderers sank within them at the
prospect of passing the night without food or shelter, a peasant
overtook them as he was going to call in his goats from the hills.
Too thankful were they to accept the good man's ready offer of shelter
for the night in his humble cottage.
Help was thus once again sent at their utmost need, and fervently did
they return thanks for it ere they retired to rest that night. To poor
Katherine it was most welcome. Their spirits were still further
revived by learning from their kind host, who had not only afforded
them shelter, but such food as he was able to supply, that they were
only two leagues from Sternfelden, and that the Count was at his
castle there.
There was still a weary walk for the exhausted party, as they resolved
to leave Pedro with the good peasant. He was too lame to be of any
further use to them, and it would have been cruel to use the poor
beast further. They were, therefore, glad to leave it in good hands.
The peasant promised to take every care of it, which in some degree
reconciled the boys to the loss of their favourite.
Cheered and encouraged by the prospect of reaching Sternfelden, they
started early the following day. They were told they had a valley and
mountain between them and their journey's end, but they did not now
despair of reaching it.
The fatigue, however, seemed almost beyond poor Katherine's strength,
and ere they had reached the summit of the mountain, by the rugged
path which led over it, she sank exhausted on the ground.
"Gaspard," she said, "I can go no further. Leave me, and go on with
the children."
"My poor wife!" said he, whilst tears ran down his pale, wan face,
"we are near our journeys end. Rest for a while; we will then try
to go on. Oh, surely our troubles will soon end!"
Katherine seemed unable to reply, but leant against her husband,
who had seated himself by her, as if to support her; whilst poor
little Francis put his cold hands round her neck, and kissed away
the tears which now fell fast, saying as he did so, "Do not cry, dear,
good mother; we shall soon get home. God will lead us there."
"Yes, yes, dear child," exclaimed Gaspard, raising his eyes to heaven,
"you are right. It is six years this very day since I saved you from
death. To-morrow is your poor mother's birthday. Oh let us still hope
that God will be merciful to us now, as He was then."
He had scarcely uttered these words when the distant sound of church
bells struck on the ears of the little party.
"Listen, listen, father!" exclaimed the boys, almost with one voice.
"They sound like the bells at Feldsberg, only louder and prettier."
"They are doubtless the bells of Sternfelden church," replied their
father, with joy. "Take my arm, dear wife; you can lean on Michael
too. We will go to the church, and pray to God to help us, and to
incline the Count's heart towards us."
They rested yet awhile, listening to the welcome sound of the bells;
and after partaking of the little supply of food given them by the
good peasant, Katherine was once more able to proceed, and, taking
her husband's arm, soon reached the summit of the mountain, from
whence a glorious prospect met their gaze. A rude cross marked the
summit. Sternfelden, with its beautiful church, lay at no great
distance from them, and near it the princely castle of the Count.
At this welcome sight our little party fell on their knees, and
offered their thanks to God for having brought them through so many
perils and trials to their journey's end. They knelt, regardless of
the snow, their eyes raised to heaven, and their sad, wan faces once
more lit up with hope.