Joe seemed suddenly to have
lost all fear of him, and as he is quite double Anton's size, the
feat was easy enough. I think that is all, my dear. I have done, I
feel, a good deed in restoring a son to a mother. Joe's story is
quite true. And now, my dear, perhaps you will take care of that
purse yourself in future."
"And oh, Cecile! now--now at last can you quite, quite forgive me?"
said Joe. He came forward, and knelt at her feet.
"Poor Joe! Dear, dear Joe!" answered Cecile, "I always forgave you.
I always loved you."
"Then perhaps the Lord Christ can forgive me too?"
"Oh, yes!"
"That's as queer a story as I ever heard," here interrupted Jean
Malet. "But I can't go to bed, or rest, without hearing more. How did
a little maiden like her yonder come by a purse full of gold?"
"I can tell that part," said Joe suddenly. "I can tell that in
French, so that my mother and my brother can understand. There is no
harm in telling it now, Cecile, for everything seems so wonderful, we
must find Lovedy soon."
"But is it not late--is it not late to hear the story to-night?"
said Suzanne Malet in a faint voice.
"No, no, my love! What has come to thee, my dear one?" said her
husband tenderly. "Most times thou wouldst be eaten up with
curiosity. No, no; no bed for me to-night until I get at the meaning
of that purse."
Thus encouraged, Joe did tell Cecile's story; he told it well, and
with pathos--all about that step-mother and her lost child; all about
her solemn dying charge; and then of how he met the children, and
their adventures and escapes; and of how in vain they looked for the
English girl with the golden hair and eyes of blue, but still of how
their faith never failed them; and of how they hoped to see Lovedy in
some village in the Pyrenees.
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