"Oh," cried Paula, "I would give everything to see him truly saved!"

Never had I seen Paula so happy as when we entered the little old evangelical church in the Rue San Eloi.

We had had the natural timidity of new-comers, and had feared more than anything else that battery of eyes which would surely be turned on us at our entrance. It was therefore a great relief to find that the meeting had already begun, and an empty pew well toward the back that held us all, seemed to beckon to us with a sort of mute welcome.

Hardly were we seated when I noticed Paula (who had of course been accustomed to church-going at her old home in the valley) had kneeled, and with her eyes closed seemed to be offering a prayer. This was soon ended and she resumed her seat. It was all so new to me that I could not at first take in much of the details of the service.

The preacher had a fine n.o.ble face which seemed to light up especially as the hymns were heartily sung by the whole congregation.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but it seemed to me that a quiet smile of approval pa.s.sed over his face as his eyes rested on Paula who so fervently joined in the songs--all of which seemed quite familiar to her.

It was an affecting thing, that vision of my girl companion. In her white dress with its blue sash at the waist, and with her wide white straw hat, she made a lovely picture. In that frank open countenance I think I read her thoughts. Here in G.o.d's house she had entered once more the Promised Land from which she had been exiled for four long years!

Suddenly the sun came from behind a cloud, especially designed, I thought, to send a ray of rose-colored light through one of the stained-gla.s.s windows of the church over that beautiful face at my side which now showed only rapt attention to the simple gospel message saturated with G.o.d's Word that flowed like a mighty river from the preacher's lips.

As we came through the door on our way out, I caught a glimpse of my father's tall form just disappearing around a bend in the Rue San Eloi. I think he must have stolen up to the door and had been listening outside!

CHAPTER SEVEN

IN HIS PRESENCE

At times I have wished to efface from my mind the memory of those last moments that Paula was with us. Yet as I think of the dwelling to which she has gone, and also the manner in which she went--in the path of duty--to the House of Glory, as a good soldier of the Cross, I bless G.o.d and kneel in grat.i.tude to Him for having loaned her to us for those four precious years when He used her to bring us all to the bleeding side of the Saviour, and thus make us new creatures in Christ Jesus.

It was on the Wednesday after that Sunday when we had first attended church. It had been a day of terrible heat. The oppressive atmosphere seemed to promise an electric storm. Louis who had forgotten a study book when he went to school on Monday, had returned to get it. Paula had tried to study, but I could see she was having great difficulty.

Suddenly Teresa appeared and called Paula to take a letter which my father wished to send to a man who lived in the Rue Fourmi.

"Go quickly, Paula, there's a storm brewing, but I think you can easily get back before it breaks. The Rue Fourmi is not far away."

Paula had no time to answer before Teresa disappeared again to the other end of the house.

Paula turned to Louis, who was about to start out for his uncle's house, where he stayed during the week in order to be near his school.

"Louis dear," she said, "won't you please take this letter on your way back to your uncle's house?"

"No," said Louis sharply; "I never go that way."

"No, I know that; but it would only be a few steps out of your way to leave it there, and--well--you see--I have quite a headache."

"Teresa told you to take the letter, not me. A fig for your headache! It's only that you're too lazy to stir!" said Louis.

"Louis!" I shouted, "You ought to be ashamed of yourself! You know well enough Paula's always willing to do anything for anybody! I'd go myself, but I simply can't leave what I'm doing now. If Teresa had remembered, she would have given you the letter and you know it! If you don't take it, I'll tell father!"

"Do as you please," said Louis coolly. "I'll not be bothered with it!"

I was furious and couldn't keep back the angry tears that now began to roll down my cheeks.

"Never mind, Lisita," said Paula, as she ran for her hat. Then as she went through the door she turned for a last look at Louis, "Won't you please take it, Louis?" she said.

"No!" said Louis--"and that's that!" and he turned his back to Paula.

"Good-bye, Louis dear!" she finally said without the least show of anger, as she left the house. "We'll be seeing you again on Sat.u.r.day."

She ran down the street quickly in order to return before the gathering storm broke.

Louis followed shortly to return to his uncle's, whistling cheerfully as he went; but his cheerfulness seemed to me to be a little too exaggerated to be real.

After I'd finished my task I sought out Teresa at the other end of the great house.

"Paula has a bad headache," I said.

"Why didn't she tell me that?" said Teresa. "I'd have sent Louis, but I didn't think of it at the time"

I opened my mouth to say something, and then I shut it again. I had begun slowly to learn from Paula's example not to be a "tattle-tale."

Meanwhile the sky grew darker. Suddenly Teresa said,

"I don't know what's keeping Paula, Here, Lisita! Take this umbrella and go and meet her. I'm afraid she'll be caught in the rain before she gets back."

I soon found her as she turned in at the bottom of the Rue Darnetal. "We must hurry," she said as the thunder began to mutter in the distance.

Hardly had she spoken when a flash of lightning almost blinded us. This was followed almost immediately by a great crash of thunder that seemed to shake the very ground under our feet. Then came a sound of confused shouts as if something had happened at the other end of a cross street that we were pa.s.sing. Could it be a house had been struck by the lightning? No, the shouts increased and changed to cries of terror. Soon we guessed the cause, as we heard a rushing sound of galloping horses, which, frightened by the flash and the clap of thunder, came in sight around a bend in the street enveloped in a cloud of dust, dragging a heavy wagon behind them.

Instinctively Paula retreated to a protecting doorway and I huddled in terror close beside her.

"Lisita!" she called suddenly. "Look! look!" What I saw was something that seemed to freeze my blood! Directly in the pathway of the onrushing horses, totally unconscious of his danger, was a little boy of about three years old toddling along in the middle of the road. One instant more and it would have been all over! Suddenly Paula left our shelter like a shot from a gun.

Then I heard a sharp cry that rent the air like a knife, and then--I can remember little more--just a confusion of people running hither and thither, and then for me all was darkness, but in that darkness I seemed to hear still that piercing cry of anguish.

When I came back to consciousness I found myself on the sofa in our dining-room, with Catalina bathing my face and hands with cold water.

"Where's Paula?" I cried, for I remembered at once that terrible scene in the Rue Darnetal.

"Paula is in her room," said Catalina, turning her head to hide the tears that would come in spite of all her efforts.

I tried to rise and go to our room.

"Stay where you are, Lisita!" said Catalina. "You may go a bit later when you're feeling stronger."

But now a terrible suspicion crossed my mind. "Catalina," I cried, almost beside myself with fear, "tell me the truth! Is Paula dead?"

"No, Lisita; Paula's not dead," as she tried in vain to detain me; "She is still breathing--and"--but I heard nothing more. My legs trembled strangely as I stumbled toward our bedroom. Once there, again that terrible darkness started to come over me, but it was only a momentary weakness. With an effort I steadied myself as I came near the bed where my dearest one lay so still--that lovely face so white, the lips slightly parted with just a faint stirring of the breath.

The room was full of people, some weeping silently, some trying to choke back their sobs. Others, like my father and Dr. Lebon, with an agony showing on their faces much more terrible than any tears.