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Benoite. She was ashamed at fooling ns wretched as she did.
>ii!d not bear ID ri 111:1111 alone, nor In go i>> l.n
cid yd, the onlv Iniiiiaa being to
whom, at thai moment she fell liial she could do .so, u
little wild girl of the woods the child he had been kind to.
CHAPTER XVII.
A DISCOVERY.
Ross walked with a rapid stop to the well, where she expected
to find Benoilc, and sure enough she was there as usual, but in-
stead of wailing to be accosted and spoken to, as .soon as the
child saw her young mistress she sprung up and ran to meet her.
"Oh, Mi-e," slit' exclaimed, " is Monsieur gone aw.iy'! ''
" He went to Marseilles this morning. Did he tell you ycsleriliat
he meant to do so? "
" Yes. in the evening, when I was taking the goats to the sta-
ble, he came to wish me goodbye. He had not said anything
>ut goins away when I had met him in the afternoon. Oh,
" Well, I suppose so. What I know is, that Monsieur, when
he began telling me about the dear St. Elizabeth, was carrying a
book under his arm, and in the beginning of it was a picture of
ing of this, Benoite was looking at her wistfully. At last she
said
" Mise, could you take care of the goats for an hour or two? "
"Perhaps I could. But why should I?"
"
Because then I could do Monsieur's commission this morn-
ing instead of late this evening, and not have to keep Toinette
waking so long for her money."
"Who 'is Toinette? "
"She is a very old paralyzed woman, who lives in a hut half
way between this place and Cereste, at the rocks of Etretat.
Monsieur found her out one day by chance the first day he was
here, I think and she was very ill, and afraid she was going to
die. Monsieur walked to Cereste and told M. le Cure how bad
she was, and M. le Cure came, and he got a woman to take care
of her. After that Monsieur went himself every day to see her,
and yesterday,
'
Benoite,' he said, I went, to send some nn
!d Toinette, as now I shall not be here to take food t her.
know who to send wifh it; Thereson and Simon would
not eare to walk so far.' 'Send your guardian aimel
'
I said.
!. and answered that I was for once to be his guardian
and when I have taken the goats home 1 must carry to
id thing. It is the finest thing you ever saw,
Mise." And Menoi;,
which she held U|
" Now 1
1 eoiiKI ir
usuai time win D
Monsieur ana no dinner comes. If she
maybe it will comfort her, though she can'l (:.( il Hi/
sieursuysit will turn into a bagful of p.
and then she can buy bread."
Rose was hesitating as to what she would answer, and Be-
noite went on: " You see, Mise, I thought of printing ,,
here, just as Germaine Cousin did and leaving ir to :
the goats; but I am afraid they would no! mind it.-
"No because you are not a saint, iilile Benoite. Tie
says you are very naughty sometimes, and v,;ll not do .
are told "
" Then I'll be a saint to spite her," Benoite exclaimed, sha
her fist and stamping m a very unsamtlike manner I'll
saint, and then the birds and the beasts will do what I tell I hem
as the wolf did when St. Francis bade him keep the peace with
the people of Gubbio. That was another of M ales,
But I shall not tell the wolves to keep the peace with T
"
Mi.se. 1 am so sorry he is gone! and Benoite began to
rry.
Rose sat down by the child and held her hand in hers. The
little girl looked up into her face and said
"
Will he come back again soon? I asked him, but he would
not tell me. He only patted me on the shoulder, and said we
should meet again some day. Are you, too, going away, Mise
Rose? I do not love you as much as 1 love Monsieur, but I am
beginning to like you, and if you will tell Thereson not to call
me an idiot, I shall soon love you."
"Oh, she must not do thai," Rose said, her cheek
" flushing.
People don't know the harm they do when they dare to say
such things. I don't wonder, Benoile, that you should like
Monsieur better than me. I cannot tell you nice stories, or
make songs for you as he did."
"But can't you find stories in a book, Mise? "
" Do you mean if I can read them? "
I will order that great eagle thai flew across the sky and perched
on the high rock above Etretat last ni-ht, to pick out !
"
Oh, Benoite, you would not, if you could, do such a dreadful
thing! You woald be like a devil, not a saint."
"Well, if not her eyes, her cap. I would bid him carry her
cap off her bead, away to his nest. I should like to hear her
scream after it. But what shall I do about Toinciie'/ "
"
Tell me where she lives, and I will go to her myself."
"Well, Mise, you must follow that path that leads through
the wood, and then enter the olive groves and go up the hill.
You will pass by a little shrine where I here is a Madonna, and
then turn to the left. In a little while you will come to some
lemon and orange trees, and there under the rocks is Toinctte's
hut."
Rose went back to the house to fill a basket, and then, laden
with provisions, and intrusted with the gold piece which Benoite
gave into her hands with rather a wistful look of regret, she
started on her errand.
her with her lap full of roses, and a gentleman with a face
something like Monsieur's peeping at them. Once he said he
was going to tell me another story, about a sick man she put in
a bed, and then when people came to look at him, there was
Jesus, on his cross, lying in it instead. He found that in the
book. Perhaps if It was one of the most beautiful of the long days of June.
The air was balmy, and though the heat was great, it was not
oppressive. There was shade almost everywhere on her road.
Rose thought how strangely different things had turned out from
what she had expected. She could form no idea as to her future,
and felt as if in a dream. It was a relief to walk, to have some-
you had it, you could find some stories in it."
The child's suggestion was not lost on Rose. She made up her
mind to venture into the room where George's books were lying
about, and to try and discover this one. Whilst she was thinkthing
to do, and the fact that she was executing the commission
George had intrusted to the little peasant, gave her a sort of
satisfaction.
The hut Benoite had described was in a lonely situation at the
foot of some rocks; tho nearest place to it was Cereste. She
easily found it, and explained to the paralytic and solitary old
woman that M. de Vedelles was absent, that he sent her twenty
francs to provide for her immediate necessities, and that she had
herself brought her some dinner.
"And who are you, kind Mise?" the old creature asked,
looking with admiration at I Jose's lovely face.
" I am the wife of the gentleman who has visited you lately,"
she answered, and for the first time she said that word irifc with
a sort of emphasis thai seemed like laying claim to a name she
would not have willingly given up.
" Then the good God has rewarded him for all his charity 1 y
giving him an angel for a wife." Toinette rejoined, clamping her
thin hands together, and speaking in that poetical manner
in Provence, as in Ireland, is so often met with amongst the
poor and the ignorant.
Rose sat down by the bedside, and said, '
very kind to you? "
" Good as the good God, Mise. lie has saved my
He has, then, been
life but
done yet more for my soul. Oh, if you knew the peace and the
consolation he has given to this poor heart of mine! "
" How so: " said Rose earnestly, drinking in each of th.