And now, I too could not keep back my tears as I kneeled beside the old servant, who left her work to pa.s.s her hand over my head.

"Thou didst not know her, dear Lisita. How many times during her sickness she told me especially to take care of thee, and love thee as if I were thine own mother. Yes, and correct thee also.... At times I ask myself whether I have obeyed her."

"Oh, Teresa," exclaimed Rosa, interrupting her and closing, with a bang the book which she had not read. "Indeed, you have done your duty. What would we have done without you? Of course, I can't say," and Rosa smiled, "that your punishments have been very numerous, but father has taken care of that. Father corrects us and you do the loving part"

"Now, see here, your father loves you also, and it's only the pain of having lost your mother that makes him appear more severe than he really is. Open the window, Rosa, I can hardly see, and I must finish this stocking before I quit tonight."

Rosa obeyed, and a soft breeze entered, laden with the perfume of the garden, and Teresa resumed; "After the doctor had gone that afternoon your mother called me and said, Teresa, tell me the truth. The doctor believes I am going to die; does he not?' I didn't know what to answer her. Your father hoped in spite of the doctor's opinion that she'd pull through, and did not wish me to let your poor mother know that there was any danger. But here she lay praying me with her joined hands that I should tell her the truth. She spoke with great difficulty and I feared that soon she would not be able to speak at all, and therefore weeping, told her the whole truth."

"And then?

"Then she said to me, 'Teresa, I'm certainly afraid to die! I'm afraid! I'm afraid!"

"'But,' said I, 'Madame, why should you be afraid? You have always been so good to everybody. The good G.o.d will take you to heaven.' But she could not be calm.

"'According to the world's standard perhaps yes, Teresa--but before G.o.d! To think that in a few hours I shall be face to face with the Lord Jesus and I am not prepared!--No, no, let me speak, Teresa! I have done my duty by my husband and by my children, but I have forgotten G.o.d. I have not loved Him, neither have I prayed to Him and therefore I'm afraid to meet Him. Oh, Teresa, I'm afraid to die."

"I could only repeat, 'The good G.o.d will pardon you, Madame. He is so good and kind. He will have pity on you, for you have never done any harm to anybody.'

"'Ah.' she answered, if I had but listened to my sister and brother-in-law!

How many times they urged me in their letters to surrender to the Lord Jesus, but I always put it off ... and now I'm dying! Oh, Teresa, Teresa, can you not help me?'"

"But I thought Mamma died in peace?" suddenly questioned Rosa. "I remember toward the end that she was anxious to go, and at last said that she was going to heaven."

"Yes, my beloved madame did indeed die in peace. Sometime after she had asked me whether I could help her she said, 'Teresa, read again that last letter from my sister. I have it here under my pillow.' I read it to her as best I could, and as I finished she said to me, 'Read it again, Teresa. Oh, if only my dear sister were here this minute!" Twice again I read the letter, but still she was not satisfied. 'Those last words, Teresa, Read them again to me, please.' And again I read them."

"Do you remember those last words, Teresa?" Catalina asked as she listened with rapt attention to the story she had heard so often from the lips of our old servant.

"I don't remember all. I would have liked to have kept the letter. It was such a letter that would help any one to die, for it was certainly a treasure. But my poor madame wished to carry it to the tomb with her, and no doubt it is there yet in her hands, poor little angel. As I remember it, the letter concluded thus: 'He that believeth on Me hath everlasting life, and him that cometh to Me I will in no wise cast out!'"

"I read these, the last words of the letter, a dozen times over to her and she seemed to take hold of them as a drowning man would grasp a board that floated by him--then without movement, with her eyes shut, she seemed to be sleeping, but every once in a while she appeared to be talking with someone."

"Do you think she was praying, Teresa?" I asked in a trembling voice.

"Yes, Lisita, she was praying. And I am sure that the good G.o.d heard her, for she said to me after a long silence, Teresa, I believe my Saviour has taken me for His own--I am a poor, guilty, and ungrateful sinner--I have waited until the last moment, and I know my sins are great, but my Saviour's love is greater. But oh, my husband!--and my children! I have done nothing to attract them to G.o.d. Oh, Teresa, take care of them! Take care of them! I have put them in the hands of the Lord that He may save them also. I can do nothing and--it is too late!'

"She asked me to call your father who was resting in the next room for he had watched all the previous night and had worked as usual all day. She could hardly speak, but as best she could she prayed him to be reconciled to G.o.d and to teach their children to know the way of salvation."

"The strange thing to me, Teresa," said Rosa thoughtfully, "is that our father who loved our mother so much, has not taught us this Christian religion according to our dear mother's last wish."

"That is the terrible part," Teresa answered. "An awful change came on him at the death of your mother. He loved her desperately and when she died it seemed as if his heart turned to stone, and when I tried to console him he cried out bitterly, 'Don't speak to me of G.o.d and don't try to tell me He is a G.o.d of love. He took away my most precious treasure and tore my heart and my very life to pieces.'

"About a week after the death of my poor madame he called me to him and said, 'Teresa, you are a good woman. You've brought up my dear Maria, carried her in your arms when she was small, and in your arms she drew her last breath. She commended her poor children into your hands, and I want you to remain forever at their side, but on one condition, remember--that you never speak to them again on the subject of religion, neither of prayer, nor of church, nor anything of the kind. Hear me well, Teresa! Hear me! I have prayed very little in my life, but on that last night when my dear wife pa.s.sed away, if anyone prayed with all his heart and all his strength, I did so. Kneeling beside her bed I promised G.o.d to serve Him; to bring up my children for Him if He would only leave me my treasure. But He didn't do it Then why should I serve Him?'

"When I saw that it was useless to argue with him I promised what he asked.

Just think, if I had been obliged to abandon you to a strange servant!" and Teresa viewed the three of us with those great blue eyes of hers full of affection for us.

"Oh," I cried, trying to take her great fat body in my arms, "What would we have done without you!"

But Teresa, wanting very much to cry and yet trying hard not to show it, put me gently aside, saying, "There, there! You are making me lose a lot of time. Stand up, stand up! You have been on the floor at my feet for over half-an-hour like a little purring kitten and wearing out your stockings besides."

And then continuing without awaiting my reply:

"Well, I am only a poor ignorant servant. If I can read, it is because my poor madame taught me. Nevertheless it has nearly broken my heart to see all three of you, and Louis besides, growing up like a bunch of heathen.

And, what happiness prayer does bring one!"

"Do you pray, Teresa?" asked the wondering Rosa.

"Oh, at times. But see now, servants must do what they see their masters do. After the death of my poor madame I prayed often, but little by little I seemed to lose the habit. Your father hardly ever spoke to me, and excepting Catalina, you were all too small to understand important things, and the neighbors!--Oh, you know among our neighbors one never hears any prayers at their houses either. I would be so happy before I die to see the day when my poor madame's prayers be heard regarding us."

"It's a shame," said Rosa, "that Paula is so small. If she were only a few years older perhaps she could"--"I'll tell you what's a shame, and that is that she is coming at all," interrupted Catalina with the return of her bad humor.

"Oh," sighed Teresa, "poor little thing! What could she do at her age! A child of ten years will never be able to change your father's ideas. The more you speak to him the worse he is. No, the one who has to change will be the child _herself_! She must learn to do as we do. I do hope she may not have to suffer too much. Of course, at her age she will adapt herself quickly to her surroundings, and after all, your father is a good-hearted man. There! At last the sock is done! It was time, for I cannot see any more. What a lovely day it has been! The fruit ought to ripen quickly with a few more days like this."

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine ... it was the great clock of Darnetal that recalled us to the present.

"Nine o'clock!" exclaimed Teresa, "how the time has pa.s.sed! Lisita! Off to bed!"

"Please, Teresa, let me stay a few minutes more; it's lovely here by the open window."

"Yes, it won't be so lovely tomorrow morning when you must rise early to be in cla.s.s on time. Isn't that so? Now go, Lisita! No more nonsense!"

"Here, take this," said Catalina, handing me a lovely orange that she had received; "You can have it if you go to bed immediately!"

"Oh," I exclaimed beamingly; "I do love you so, dear Catalina."

"Is it me or the orange that you love?"

"It's you, and the orange, and Teresa, and Papa, and Rosa, and Louis, and Paula."

"There! there! Go to bed," said Catalina, disentangling herself from my arms. "If you don't go to bed at once I will take away your orange."

Laughing, I embraced her again, and Rosa too, and then rushed off to my room, but not without slamming Catalina's door with a noise that shook the whole house.

CHAPTER THREE

PAULA ARRIVES

For nearly a week I couldn't think of another thing but the coming of Paula.

My father had gone to Paris. He would be there some days to arrange certain important matters of business in connection with his factory, and also to wait for the little orphan to be placed in his care by a lady who was journeying from Villar to Paris. In school I talked of nothing else. In fact, I talked about her all day and every day. I learned nothing, nor could I seem to do anything around the house.

One night, while dreaming, I jumped from the bed, crying, "Paula! Paula!"

This awakened Teresa, and she made me take some nasty medicine thinking I had fever. I made promises of reform. I wanted to be good, studious and patient, in order to be an example to Paula who would see my good qualities and would thus endeavor to imitate me. Nevertheless I became absolutely insufferable! My older sisters without being quite so enthusiastic as I was, nevertheless spoke often of Paula. Catalina began to worry that Paula might suffer in our house, but she soon consoled herself by remembering that my father had promised to put her out to board, if it turned out that she could not get along amicably with us. As to Louis, he soon showed us that he was not at all interested in the arrival of his young cousin. If it had been a boy, it would have been different--but a girl!

Teresa spoke very little as to Paula, but I am persuaded that long before the arrival of our little orphan cousin, she had been given a large place in our old servant's heart. She found a little white bed up in the attic which was placed in my room beside my own cot.