Malet was at that moment, at the word "Lovedy"
she started and turned round. But Cecile was too absorbed in Miss
Smith's answer to notice anyone else.
"Is Lovedy's purse quite, quite safe?" asked her trembling lips.
"The purse is safe," answered Miss Smith; and then Joe, who had as
yet not even glanced at Cecile, also raised his head and added:
"Yes, Cecile, the Russia-leather purse is safe."
"Then I must thank Jesus now at once," said Cecile.
With her weak and tottering steps she managed to leave the room to
gain her own little chamber, where, if ever a full heart offered
itself up to the God of Mercy, this child's did that night.
It was a long time before Cecile reappeared, and when she did so
order was restored to the Malet's parlor. Old Mme. Malet was seated
in her own easy-chair by the fire; one trembling hand rested on Joe's
neck; Joe knelt at her feet, and the eyes of this long-divided mother
and son seemed literally to drink in love and blessing the one from
the other.
All the anxiety, all the sorrow seemed to have left the fine old
face of the Frenchwoman. She sat almost motionless, in that calm
which only comes of utter and absolute content.
Miss Smith was sitting by the round table in the center of the room,
partaking of a cup of English tea. Big brother Jean was bustling in
and out, now and then laying a great and loving hand on his old
mother's head, now and then looking at the lost Alphonse with a gaze
of almost incredulous wonder.
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