Cecile followed her without a word into the next room.
The dying woman was sitting up on a sofa, supported by pillows, and
her breathing came quicker and louder than ever.
"Cecile," she gasped, "Cecile, say that bit--bit of a hymn once
again."
"I am so glad Jesus loves me,
Even me."
repeated the child instantly.
"Even me," echoed the dying woman.
Then she closed her eyes, but she felt about with her hand until it
clasped the little warm hand of the child.
"Go back to your room now, Cecile," said Aunt Lydia.
But the dying hand pressed the little hand, and Cecile answered
gravely and firmly:
"Stepmother 'ud like me to stay, Aunt Lydia."
Aunt Lydia did not speak again, and for half an hour there was
silence. Suddenly Cecile's stepmother opened her eyes bright and wide.
"Lovedy," she said, "Lovedy; find Lovedy," and then she died.
CHAPTER V.
THE TIN BOX AND ITS TREASURE.
Cecile and Maurice D'Albert were the orphan children of a French
father and a Spanish mother. Somewhere in the famous valleys of the
Pyrenees these two had loved each other, and married. Maurice
D'Albert, the father, was a man of a respectable class and for that
class of rather remarkable culture. He owned a small vineyard, and
had a picturesque chateau, which he inherited from his ancestors,
among the hills. Pretty Rosalie was without money. She had neither
fortune nor education. She sprang from a lower class than her
husband; but her young and childish face possessed so rare an order
of beauty that it would be impossible for any man to ask her where
she came from, or what she did.
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