"I thought," said David, "that the fire was the worst thing that could have happened to me, but now I see it was my greatest fortune."

Then Uncle Philip said: "Our beloved ones at home are watching and waiting for our return." So, Peter quickly busied himself with a stick upon which he fastened some ribbons.

"What are you going to do with that?" asked David.

"I promised your sisters if we succeeded in finding you, to raise this banner. How they will rejoice when they see it." Then and there he fastened it to the prow of the ship.

Each moment brought them nearer home and David's heart beat high with hope, for on the sh.o.r.e his mother and sisters and all the villagers, big and little, were gathered. As David stepped on land, a cry of joy arose from the people; but the mother's joy at seeing her David was so intense that she wept.

Men and women, boys and girls, shook his hand and wished him a thousand times welcome. David's mother wanted to hear his story and was about to drag him home but the people wouldn't let her. "We want to hear it too,"

and they led him to a big linden tree and bade him step upon the seat and tell his story. All pressed around him. All eyes were on him. When it was still, David began. He told them of his dangers, trials and suffering, and said, in the end, that these had taught him the things which he had never learned before. "I am grateful to G.o.d for my deliverance and for the joy of being with you all again."

Thanking them for their interest in him and bidding them good-bye for the present, he entered his father's house, where a hearty meal was spread before him.

When the meal was over, David opened his little bundle and displayed his pearls and corals and said: "I have brought you all a present from my island." All stood in astonishment and admired them.

"My, my," cried Uncle Philip, examining them closely, "you have brought some valuable things. These pearls and corals will yield much money, for some of them are very large. Now you have helped your father out of all his debts and trouble."

"No, no," said his father, "we will share them with Peter and yourself.

You shared the dangers of this trip with me, and you shall also share the treasures. Philip, you take first choice, and then Peter next."

Two of the men who had offered to go on the trip for money, now entered the room and wished they had gone for nothing. "For such a reward as that," they said, "it would have been worth while."

"Go, go, you poor, miserable wretches," cried Philip, "you wouldn't move a hand or foot to help a fellow man in trouble without being paid for it. It serves you right that you get nothing,"

"I wish none of this money," continued Philip, "I have enough and ask no more. But Peter must take his share, for the spirit which he showed gave all of us courage, and he must be rewarded. Besides, he needs it."

Deeply touched, Peter took the reward with thanks.

Then the grateful parents again urged Philip to take the pearls, but he replied: "Let it be, as I said before. The pearls and corals are the least that David brought back with him; for he has gathered unto himself costlier treasures: 'Love for G.o.d and to humanity.' These are priceless pearls."

Turning to David, he said: "Not only have you found these treasures for us, but you have brought good fortune to our little community. For pearls and corals can now be gathered by the men of this village, and offered for sale. This will furnish a comfortable living for many of them. So, you have become a public benefactor."

The little household soon resumed its usual routine and David entered into the life and spirit of his home. He became a model of virtue for the village youths, and the joy, staff and crown of his parent's life.

He grew to be a n.o.ble, pious man, full of love and helpfulness to his fellow men; and his memory remains blessed.

FROM ROYAL PALACE TO LOWLY HUT

Chapter

I. The Suburbs

II. The Retreat

III. The Prison

IV. The Purchase

V. Reunited

FROM ROYAL PALACE TO LOWLY HUT

CHAPTER I

THE SUBURBS

During those unhappy times when the Empire of France was overthrown and a number of the richest people were plunged into the deepest misery, a very wealthy family, named Berlow, lived in a palace in Paris.

Count Berlow was a high-minded, honorable man, and his wife was good and charitable. Their two children, Albert and Marguerite, were the exact counterpart of their parents.

Just as those revolutionary times broke forth, Count Berlow, with his family, moved from Paris to his mansion in the suburbs. Here he lived quietly, surrounded by orchards of fruitful trees, free from the turmoil of the noisy city. His family rejoiced at having him constantly in their midst and he was glad at the opportunity of being the instructor of his children, particularly in music.

One gloomy winter evening, the family was gathered in the brilliantly lighted music room. Count Berlow had composed a pretty little poem, and had fitted it to music. Albert had with difficulty mastered the playing of it, but Marguerite could sing the song remarkably well. The children had practised this piece faithfully and diligently and purposed to surprise their mother by singing and playing it that very evening. After the Count and Countess had sung several operatic selections, the father turned to his children, saying: "Let us hear what you can do." Albert seated himself at the piano and played, while Marguerite modestly sang in a sweet tone.

The Countess was delighted over this, their first song. She embraced both the children affectionately, and praised them for their efforts and the pleasure which they had afforded her.

Suddenly, the door was thrust open, and armed soldiers crowded into the room. The leader presented an order in which the Count was declared a friend of the King and an enemy of freedom and equality, and in consequence he was to be conducted to prison. Although the Countess, weeping and lamenting, threw her arms about her husband's neck to hold and guard him, and his children clung to his knees, the soldiers rudely tore him from their embrace. The cries of the mother and children were heart-rending.

The unhappy wife did everything in her power to save her dear husband.

She hastened to the city and appeared before the magistrate, to prove the Count's innocence. She called upon all her neighbors to bear testimony to her husband's quiet, retiring life, and to the fact that he had taken no share in the affairs of his country, and had talked with no one concerning them. But everything was in vain, and she was informed that in a few days her husband would be sentenced to death.

After an absence of several days, the Countess returned to her country seat and found her home occupied by soldiers, who had ransacked it and reduced it to a common tavern to which admittance was denied her. Her two children were nowhere to be found, and all her servants had been driven away. It was late at night, and she knew not what to do next.

As she turned, she met Richard, her old, true and faithful servant, who said to her: "My dear, good Countess Berlow, you, too, stand in danger of suspicion this very minute, for you have been heard to speak of the injustice and cruelty of the government. There is no escape for you, except by secret flight. You cannot save your husband, and your presence here will only bring trouble upon your own head. Your children are both in one of the out-houses with my wife. Follow me there. My brother, John, the old fisherman, has been notified, and I will take you to him to-night. He will conduct you and your children across the river to safety. In this way you will at least save your lives."

She entered Richard's house, but there a new trouble awaited her, for Marguerite had become suddenly ill from the fright and the shock, and lay unconscious, sick with a high fever. The Countess wished to nurse her child back to health, but the doctor would not hear of it, and advised her immediate flight. Richard and his good wife promised to care for the sick child, as if it were their own.

Countess Berlow knelt beside the bedside of her beloved daughter, and said: "If I must bow to this decree, I leave her in your care, my good people, and ask G.o.d in His mercy to watch over her and restore her to me in His good time." She paused for a moment, then rose quickly from her knees, kissed her unconscious child, took her son by the hand, and trembling and swaying, hastened out of the house, without one backward look.

CHAPTER II

THE RETREAT