AUNT MARTHA'S HAPPY FIND.

Auckland Star, Volume XXV, Issue 152, 27 June 1894, Page 6

AUNT MARTHA'S HAPPY FIND.

BY MADAME GAGNEBIN.

(Translated From the French.) CHAPTER I. ROLAND FINDS THE BABY. •What did you say? A child? Are you in earneeb ?' • Am I in earnest ?' •Did any one ever hear anything like It-,!'., ....... t. . 'Have you Heen ibf "No, but if you don'b believe it, go and. ask* Aunt Ursula ; she knew it before I did, M»ce.it was Roland who found it.'

• Withoub furbher discussion, bhe bwo speakers hurried off, and soou joined a group of women, ali speaking ab once, evidently moved by somo exbraordinary agitation. , , ~ • Ab the approacn ot the new comers, bhe noise increased. 'Have you met him?'— «Did be'ahow ib to you ?'--' Is ib nob dreadful ?' cried several voices. •Who? Whab?' answered the latest, comer, breathlessly. "Roland; don't you know bhab he has. fust found a little baby ?' i 'I have just i.oard so, bub I could nob; believe ib,' and bhe woman looked around,; incredulously. . ' • 't Where bave they taken it?' asked she., afeiast: «»©o you wanb to adopb it ?' roughly answered a'ball woman, dry and bhin, wrinkled' by trouble, rather than by age. • why—-I would nob say no, if I did nob have more bhan my share already.' ' Well, ib is jusb for bhat reason thab 1 have bold bhab libble scamp to go and pub his foundling where he found ib.' A disapproving murmur was heard. Dame UVsttla straightened herself. "'f Yes, you may preach, all of you. Am I nob already keeping Roland oub of charity ? Which of you would do as much ?' 'I, I,'cried several voices. The paysanne put her arms akimbo and laughed, bhough rabher awkwardly, aa if she were unaccustomed bo ib. • You shall nob have him, all bhe same. I have broughb him up. I will keep him. When I begin a good work, I like to finish it.' '

'But,'said a cracked, little voice, ' you oneht to be just, Ursula ; if his father does not send you money you pay yourself in anobher fashion, which comes to the same thine, in the end.' ; 'What do you mean, Aunt Rose V "■ ** Oh 1 nothing but what everybody knows,' responded the old woman wibh a mischievous smile.

• Bub' all this is an old story,' cried one of "the* new comers, 'that does not tell us whab Koland has' done with the baby. You ought to have kepb ib a libble while, Ursula; that would nob have forced you to keep it always.'' •To show ib to you—eh?' retorted the paydanne, 'as if you did nob see a baby every year, regularly. Well, I can bell yon thab this one is jusb like all the resb, though I did nob waste my tjme in looking ab ib.' 'But, all bhe same, one musb admit that it is very extraordinary.' Everybody looked ab the one who had made such an astonishing remark.

Dame Ursula shrugged ber shoulders. ' In these days one \'s never astonished ; besides, rich people are always extraordinary.' ■ Rich people ! WbaVi do you mean by that ?'

■ Yes, rich poople. When did you ever know the poor desert their children ?' • Oh 1 as for that, you are right, but whab makes you tbink that bhis one—' ' Whab makes me bhink so ? I have eyes, and good ones, thank God. Ib did nob bake me long to notice bhe shawl, white as snow, and the fineafe merino—the shawl in which the libtle creature was wrapped. You may believe me, whoever deserbed bhab child is beafeer off bhan we are ; but, as for knowing where ib comes from, bhab is another thing. Ah 1 here is Roland.'

All. the women burned, and called together— * Come here, libble boy ; quick, bvirry, whab have you done wibh bhe baby ?' The small boy, bhus summoned, advanced as calmly as if he had nob seen bheir impatience. As he approached them, he raised his curly head, and looked ab bhem wibh clear blue eye. i ' Is it true that you have found a baby ? "What have you done with ib ? Where have you pub ib ?' .For all answer bhe child burst oub wibh a merry laugh. ' ' Answer,' cried Aunb Ursula, craning her wrinkled neck. Roland recovered his gravity. ' Aunb Marbha is going bo keep ib; we are going to name ib to-morrow, and I shall be the godfather.' The women all laughed. The child crimsoned, and bried bo run off, bub Annb Ursula held his arm. • • Why did you carry ib to thab Hugenot? Don'b you know I forbid you bo go there ?' ' I did nob mean to give ib bo her. I wanbed bo give ib bo bhe young lady ab bhe cobtage.'- ---' And why didn'b you ?' ' The oldservanb was waibing for me.' ' Are you crazy ? The old servant was waibing for you ? Whab do you mean 1' The child hesibabed. * Sho saw—' « Who saw ?'

•The old servant ab the cottage saw me when I found the baby behind the hedge, near the path, bub I did nob show ib bo her; I ran away, because I wanbed to keep ib for ourselves.; then, she waited for me.'

' Ah, she waited for you ! She knew, then, that I would none of ib. . . And why didn'b she bake you bo hor misbress? The young lady would havo kepb ib certainly.' 'Sho could not. Sho died bhis morning-' ' Dead ! The lady ab bho cottage is dead ?' There was a moment of silence; * One would think that house was bewibched.' said Aunb Ursula ab last. All tho women nodded.

• ' Roland's mobher died there six months afber her arrival, and tbe young lady—leb mo aeo, how long is ib since she came? Why, would you believe ib, jusb six mon'hs. almost bo a day ?'

4 Don'b talk nonsense, Ursula,' interrupted a scolding voice. ' Whether a house is bewitched or nob ono is liable bo die. Roland's mother was so sick when sho camo bhab ib was a miracle she lived so long ; as for the other, it i<< my opinion thab ib is grief bhab carried ber off. Ib seems thab she could nob geb aver her husband's deabh.' ' Who told you such sbuff V "The old servanb. Bub if she had nob told me I should have guessed thab she was dying of grief, just from seeing her palo face and great sad eyes.' ' Whab 13 bhab to us?' interrupted ono of the old women, with a sigh. • I saw her ab the window not more than bwo or bhree days ago. I was carrying my Louise's youngesb, and as I looked up in passing Bhe smiled ab the littlo one ; I cannob bell you how, bub thab smile wenb to mv very heart.' .... J ■

* Now, hush 1 all of you,' interrupbed a ▼oice, • leb Roland tell ua how he had the

idea of carrying his baby to the Huguenot.' 'It w.*is nob my idea,' answered the child,- * dig old servant advised me to go there.' • Well, go on, how did she meet you ?' Was she much surprised?' ' I did nob ask her.' • Bub whab did she do ?' tell us.' • When I told her bhab I. had found ib behind bhe bodge, near bhe road, and thab I did nob know what bo do wibh ib since Aunb Ursnlft'wodld nob keep ib, and bhe young larlv *-as dead, she book it in her arms and >- • ! something in a whisper, I don'b kno a-hat ; theo she senb me bo bhe shop, for she thoughb ib would be hungry when ib woke.'

• Think of the Huguenob with a baby !' cried one of the women, her voice instantly drowned in the laughter of the resb. • Don't be afraid, she will soon be tired of that business,' added Aunb Ursula. 'In a,fortnight bhe litble one will be senb to the asylum.' Roland's blue eyes shone with indignation bub he did nob speak, but moved away quickly, leaving bhe women to their suppositions.

Such a marvellous evenb, never before known ab Silvereal, kept them long enough from bheir duties, and bhab fact waa only realised with the darkness of bhe night.

The sun had long disappeared, the brillianb purple glow vanished slowly. The sea moaned in the libble bay, and bhe white wavea beat againsb bhe recks. A cold, grey twilighb had come, libtle by libtle, and then only, did bhe remembrance of bheir dubies reburn to bhem ; and, frightened, bhey hurried bo bheir firelesa homes, cerbain ot rinding discontented husbands and crying children. But thoir neglect was nob ho unnatural, afber all, for the finding of a baby ia an evenb which dees nob happen every day.

CHAPTER 11.

•have pity.'

While the good women dispersed, in more or less, apprehension, Aunb Martha, the Huguenot, still upsot by the extraordinary evenb which had pub all the village in a turmoil, drew from the depths of her linen press a pile of clothes as white as snow, examined bhem one affor bhe other, bhen, having carefully chosen the finesb and Bofbeab, she wenb to work most vigourously. All ab once, a litble cry, then several louder ones was heard. Aunt Martha rose, her pile face flushed slightly, her brown eyes"were lib up with a softened lighb, and her mouth, usually a libble proud, had a genble expression, which would have surprised more bhan one inhabitant of bhe village. She crossed the room quickly, pushed open bhe door of a darkened chamber, and went towards a great bed, from which she lifted a tiny whito bundle.

Before she seated herself, she paced bhe the room several times, only sbopping when the infant's piercing cries were a little quieted. Then she undid the shawl which enveloped ib, and stopped, motionless wibh surprise. A square piece of paper with bhe simple words * Have pity,' written in an uncertain hand, was attached to the libble chemise, and rested on tbe baby's breast. Wibh a trembling hand, Aunb Martha detached ib, and looked at ib for a long time, until bwo tears rolled down her cheeks.

What a profound revelation of sorrow, anguish, and lo»ce in those Bim pie words 1 The Huguenoi* felb ib. She examined the biny clothes one by one, turned and returned them, bub nobhing told her the parents' name, nor bhe cauee of their desertion. . Aunb Marbha resumed her task, bub it was nob an easy matter for one so inexperienced. The litble creature had begun to cry again, louder than ever, turning from one side to another her tiny face, purple with anger, and struggling to pub her fist in her mouth.

Her toilebte finished, Aunb Martha bried, nob wibhoub some trepidation, to induce her to take some milk, which to her greab relief, the libtle ono drank eagerly, bhen, once satisfied, she remained quieb, her blue eyes fixed upon the half sad, half joyful ones which were watching her. Ab lasb, fatigue proved boo much, and she slept. Aunb Marbha rose bo deposib her lighb burden, then went bo bbc kibchen and lit the fire. When she had finished her repast and put all in order, she took down from iba place a large Bible, burned bhe pages for an instant, then, clasping ber hands, bhe Huguenot benb her forehead upon the Holy Book. The lasb hours of bhab day had witnessed an ev6nb as extraordinary as unexpecbed, and she felb bhe need of an inberview with her heavenly friend.

Aunb Marbha remained long in prayer; when she raised her head her beautiful eyes sparkled, her hearb beab wibh gratibudo for bhis strange and marvellous gifb which God had senb her.

Oh! how 3he would love this libble creature; all tbe tenderness her hearb had once conbained, would blossom again for ker. How happy she would make her. She would never be taken from her; tho entreaty lying on her bosom was a pledge. And, happy in bhab bhought, she wenb bo work. The hours passed, and sbill she sewed. The linen, the libtle chemises grew as if .by enchanbmenb under her quick fingers. She did nob perceive the flighb of time, sho never thoughb of looking ab bhe greab deck, whose hands made bheir accusbomed round, all asbonished ab bhis illumination.so labe in bbc night.

Two or bhr£*e bimes she slipped noiselessly inbo the adjoining room, bo listen for Borne seconds bo bhe &*enble breathing of bhe litble sleeper, bhen came back to her work, her hearb filled with an emobion hibherbo unknown. And while she sewed, tirelessly, dreaming of bhe kittle being thab chance had placed in her arms, bhe nighb rolled away, tranquil and aUenb. Everybhing seemed sleeping in the bay, even bho greab sea, whose waves broke noiselessly on bhe beach, all excepb Aunt Marbha, whose hearb si\ng a hymn of hope, never thinking bhat nob far from ber, on bhe edge of theforesb, in bhe prebby cotbage bhab Aunb Ursula had pronounced ' bewibched,' a poor creature*, an old servant, was wabching boo. Motionless, near the bedside,, where lay the remains of bhe last one Bhe had loved, she seemsd losb in contemplation Of the young fact's fvoxn which all trace of pain or grief .bad forever passed. From, time to time her wrinkled hands caressed the little clasped hands whose grace and delicacy she had so often .admired, then she benb over bhe aweob face, waxen pale, and murmured bender words, to which neibher the closed eyes nor Bileob lips could ever answer. When the morning began to dawn, the old watcher rose, then slowly, as if ib eaab much to hido ib from her sighb, covered bhe pale face of bhe dead and wenb out. Aunt Marbha had pub oub her light, and slepb, a happy slumber, broken by strange dreams which made her smile and murmur words whieh'no one heard nor could have understood.

CHAPTER 111.

• AUNT MARTHA THE HUGUENOT.' No one in the village would have been able to tell exactly who was the one they called ' Aunt Martha the Huguenot.' They dnly knew one thing, and thab was bhab hor religion was di-iferenb from bheirs ; and thab doubbless explained why they lefb her alone, or why she chose to lire so. They did nob sbop willingly bo gosßip wibh her; in bhe first place, because bhey hardly knew whab to balk ,aboub, in bhe second place, because they were afraid ; and yob, many of bhe viliagers remembered bhe day when, as a libble girl, she came to the abbey accompanied by her father, who waß very proud of being bhe lasb of one of bhe old Huguenob families whose faibh

neither sufferings nor persecution could conquer. A few weeks before bhat the report came to bhe village bhab bhe old abbey bad found a purchaser; from bhab bime, great had been the curiosity, and great was bhe disappoinbmenb when bhere came bo the old homestead a crippled soldier, grey and scarred, accompanied by a libtle girl, with; large brown eyes, simply dressed ip black. After bhab bhe days passed at Silvereal' aa beforo. The ex-soldier and his little; girl, all alone in bheir establishment, rarely wenb to bhe village, and ib was somo time before bhey discovered thai their presence was not agreeable bo the inhabitants. Huguenots ab bhe abbey 1 They had never been know and nover should have been. They bried bo make bhe new pro-' prietpr undersband ib, bub he wisely shub his ears bo all bhe small balk and insinuations. Ab firsb they were astonished, bhen they asked themselves if he was not right, and soon bhey perceived bhab, if he spoke libble, his words were worbh a greab A< al, and thab, whab to bhe villagers was won li a greab deal more, his purse was ■■■•■ ys open ab bhe recibal of sorrow. Libble by litble insinuations and ill-will gave way to respocb and esteem ; they forgave the soldier bhe wrong of his birthrighb. The years rolled away; bhe old man's moustache had grown white, and his step less firm. Without admitting ib he waa nob sorry thab his libble Marbha was now a abrong young Kirl, on whose arm he could trusbfully lean during their daily walks.

Marbha saw her father grow weaker and became anxious. Ho bad been long since forced bo renounce his visits to Aries where his eld friend, formerly his chaplain, lived. Ib was now bho lubber's turn to come and inquire afber bbc eick soldier. The walks became shorter every day; soon bhe soldier did nob leave his eeab before the house ; hia pipe became boo much for him; bho end was drawing near, and he watched its coming with a tranquil hearb.

One evening he called his daughter to him, he was somewhat uneasy about her.

' I have done wrong, perhaps, to bring you here, Martha ; I only thought of myself in leaving Aries, aftor your mother's death ; you will find yourself very lonely, you had better reburn there, if you ahould succeed in selling bhe abbey.' ' Do nob worry about ib, father.' That was all she said, thon she bent over to kiss the sick man's brow, and wenb away bo weep alone.

Some days later, notwithstanding the physician's care, in Rpibe of the pastor'B prayers, and his daughter's grief, the old soldier wenb on his lasb furlough. He wenb with untroubled brow and joyous look, to lay all his burdens forever upon tbe friend who had never failed him.

Martha would have wished to remain ab the abbey, in tbe midst of her cherished memories; bub they would nob leb her; bhe old minister pleaded his cause so earnestly that she was forced to listen bo him.

His homo he said, was very lonely, above all, during his son's absence ; laber, when he came back, Martha could do as she chose, and return to the abbey if she. wished. Meanwhile, why not come and brighten the home and take tho empty place? Marbha obeyed, thinking only_ of accomplishing her new duties, and living, for her old friend. • Two years passed, two years of a calm and happy life, at the end of which bhe old man saw his mosb ardent desire realised. His son returned; his sob, talented, courageous, came to take his place. Ib mattered libtle now if his strength diminished, his task would nob remain unfinished, his child was there to take ib up as he laid ib down.

As to Martha, she must not go away, they needed ber more than ovor, and could not do without her.

So Martha stayed, and the old abbey remained closed and silonb. But who over thoughb of io? Mob bhe young girl who felb herself day by day, more and more attached to the libble parsonage and its inmates ; nor the old pastor to whom sho was ab once, mobher, daughter, and servanb. With her lighb sbop, Marbha continued bo go and come aboub the house, keeping all things in order, tending the garden, watching over all, thinking only of the well-being and happiness of her friends. . Time passes quickly when the heart is gay ; for bhe young girl, ib fled as in a dream ; sho only awaked ono day when she held her old friend's cold hands in hers.

For bhe second bime Martha was an orphan; bub she was not alone in her sorrow, and she did nob forget ib. Henceforbh, she lived only for bhe one who, like herself, had loab a fabher and adviser. Was ib nob her duby to aid him, to comfort him, whose acbiviby knew no respibe, who always forgob himself for others, who had only ono aim, one ambibion, —to bo found watching when bhe Maeter came ? To protect him from all pain, all perploxiby, to brinjj into his grave eyes a joyful light, a flash of gratitude, was Martha's only thoughb during all bhe hours of bbc day. Oh 1 if he had seen wibh whab exacb and bondor care sho prepared his repasb, arranged his room, filled with flowers bhe vases on his bureau, rearranged bhe linen for his use. . . . Bub he saw nobhing,

remarked nothing; neither her grave beauby nor slender ancl graceful figure; neither bhe music of her voice, the light of her eyes, nor bhe fleeting roses of her cheeks. Ho saw in Marbha, only a sisber, placed by Providence in his pabhway, a sisber who soughb to brighten his life ; and ho thanked God for the giib, and showed hisgrabibudo to her by accepting bhe sacrifice of her life and devotion.

One evening, several yearß laber, as bhey were aboub bo separate for bho night, the young minisber book Martha's hand in his, and told her in a moved voice bhab an angel, a fairy, he hardly knew whab name bo give her, would soon come bo brighben his hearbh, and share his life. Ab bhe same time, he begged her to remain with them : he was sure thab h'_3 young wifo would bo glad of her adfice, and Martha knew already bhab he loved her as a sister, and bhab her deparbure would grieve him groably. The lighb colour which had mounted bo bhe young girl's cheeks when she felb her hand thus imprisoned, had disappeared; she kepb her eyes fixed upon the grave face, whose every feabure she knew so well; she saw bhe emobion which made his lips quiver and his eyes glow, and she could nob speak. ' Martha, you do nob answer me.' •God blesa you, and make you happy, perfecbly happy.' • You will stay, Martha; you will be ber sisber, as you have been mine' ' You will nob need mc' Sho drew her hand away slowly, smiled even, and soughb her room.

Some weeks later the old abbey shutters, closed for six years, were wide open. The Aunlight, joyous in meebing no obstacle?, ponebrabed everywhere like a heedless child, who is only kepb aba distanco because compelled, Marbha had come back. Every one in the village had heard of it, and had come to greeb her, and offer assistance, and every one had gone home resolved nevor to renew an offer so polibely, bub so coldly declined. ' Marbha may gob along as best she can,' said they; ' did anyono ever see such haughtiness, and such a dismal face 1 Bub one mighb have expected ib, she was always proud, even when she was only a libble girl, and when she refused to play with children of her own age.' And while her visitors returned home, discontented and hurt, Marbha, nevor thinking of their grievances, pub everything in order in her home, washed floors and windows, hung curtains, stretched carpebs. and tried to give back to bhe old home bhe comforbable look of ibs former days. Everything found its old place ; here, her father's armchair ; bhere, bho good lamp which had

brightened so many watchful nights; on bhis shelf, bhe Bible, which she could never reach, formerly, withoub bbc help of a footstool.

Litble by libtle the old abbey resumed the aspect of those happy days, bub bhe deep voice of bhe soldier and the child's prabble were gone. The little garden, too, became gay with its beds of salad, and ita rows of pinks and asters. In bhe poultry yard, duckings which promised well, wero nob slow in making themselves heard ; there, at lpast, life and animation reigned ; wibh the early dawn, two noisy cocks sounded their war-cry ; a little later in the day the hens took their burn.

Ab the stable bhree prebby goats were domiciled, and there Martha passed the greater parb of her day. So, always busy, always ab work, she tried bo forgot, not to bhink, bo keep sbrong ; besides,-of what did she have to complain ? Had she not all she needed, and more ? She was lonely, ib is true, bub her lob was bhab of many. And then,' did she nob know thab God was just, and who was she to rebel or murmur ?

One day, some months after ber return, Martha had a visit from the young paßbor and his wife, whom she had never seen since bheir marriage. She was ab firsb a little nervous, her lips became white, and her manner embarrassed ; bub she soon controlled herßelf, and ib was wibh a pleasaub emile thab she enterbained her guests, and did bhe honours of hor libtle kingdom bo the young bride. She conducbed ber everywhere; to bhe flowery orchard, bo. bhe stable; nob a corner was forgotten ; nevertheless, Occupied as she was, the day seemed very long; but when, ab bhe momenb of departure, bhe gentle little wife rose on tiptoes bo kiss her, Martha felb her eyes moisten, and returned her caress wibhoub an effort ; bhen she watched her deparb, brighb and joyous, on her husband's arm.

Sbanding in her doorway, her bapd shielding her eyes as if bd protecb bhem from the sunlight, long since disappeared, Marbha could nob tear herself from her posb. ' For her,' bhoughb she, ' happiness ; —for her, love, an acbivo and useful life; —for her, tbe privilege of sharing his work, his sorrows, his joys;—for her, the tack, sweetest of all, of making him happy ; for me, loneliness, solitude, always, always. Bub who am I to murmur?' Marbha enbered bhe house slowly, and shub the door behind her.

The young girl was ab first a libtle astonished at her isolation, then she grew accustomed to io, and had ended by liking ib.

Her solitude was broken once or twice a year, when she received the visit of her old friend ; that was a tribute of gratitude he owed her, and in which he never failed, He accomplished this duty with the religious exactitude with which he did everything, sometimes accompanied by his wife, sometimes alone ; later, with two or three small boys whom Martha spoiled.

Each spring saw him come wibh the same fidelity. Bub, as formerly he had ignored the yong girl's frosh beauty, so now he was ignorant also of her sufferings ; he never remarked the silver threads in her brown hair, nor the wrinkles which hollowed her forehead, temples, and around her mouth. Martha, bo him, was always bhe same, and bhe years did their work, unnoticed. To her name had been prefixed aunt, which one receives easily in the village, when one has" attained ripe years, and thab was Martha's life when the libble Roland appeared in her doorway, one beautiful evening a baby in his arms, and a request in his eyes which her heart could not refuse.

(To be Contimted.)