The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1893-12-20
UNDER seal OF CONFESSION.

patches of succory, almost wearied the
eye.
The lanl spare form of Pere Jacque-
mard in his black cassock looked rather
like one of the rocks which from time
TO time alighted and stalked about
among the flowers. Around, the silence
was murmurous with the hum of little
wings, and the joy of living manifested
itself on every side in crowds of but
terfiies which danced and wavered above
the yellow blossoms
The summer had got into Armand's
| heart, too. and showed itself In the
alert, springing step with which he
STROBE across the hills. If his removal
from Baigneville had been intended as
retribution for any misdeed il had failed.
for he was happy; if as discipline, it had
succeeded. He was learning the lesson
1t takes most of lifetime to master,
that if we will but adjust ourselves to
our circumstances instead Of straining
against them, IL is possible to find both
work and happiness where perhaps we
would not have chosen to seek them.
ii would probably have surprised those
who had appointed him could they have
seen how effective the fashionable
preacher Of Baigneville was among these
ignorant farmers. Probably the secret
of success was the same in both cases,
and lay in the gift of an unusually SYM
pathetic temperament. He never tried
consciously to adapt himself TO his hear
ers, but spoke out of the sincerity OF
his own heart, and whether to peer or
peasant the appeal went home.
The one thing impossible to Armand
was stagnation. His busy brain was as
full of schemes for the benefit of his
flock as IL had ever been, and ii was in
pursuit of one Of these that he was
marching across the hills today. His
church was large. but 1t was situated at
one corner of the widely scattered par
ish, and he had set his heart on the
restoration of an ancient ruined chapel
at the further end. He would have
found no difficulty in collecting more
than the sum he needed among his for
mer parishioners, but he wanted to
teach his people to help themselves, so
he utilized the little gifts that their
thriftiness Eve will not call 1t parsi-
mony) would bestow, and from those
who had no money TO give he got
DAYS labor or load of stones, worth
far more to him as proof of his hold on
their love than any number or francs
from the outside world.
Ills present errand was not a very
hopeful one It would have seemed to
most people scarcely worth while to
come SO far out of his way to ask for
contribution of a few sous from Mother
Nedelec who had the reputation of being
close-fsted and from her own account
had barely enough to keep body and soul
together Her little cottage stood by it
self at some distance from the high road
at the opening of a wild rock gorge. Just
beyond it the path forked, one way lead
ing by short cut to CarhaiX, the other
winding down to an extraordinary spot
where one might fancy a company of
giant children had been playing at houses
with the monstrous boulders as human
children build with pebbles Tradition
named the successive grottoes the sleep
ing chamber, the parlor and the kitchen.
The last was the most awful of all. for
in its depth a brown torrent formed a
seething cauldron, and woe betide any
one who would slip on the round pol
ished boulders that danked it. Legend
of saint and devil ascribed a miracu-
lous origin, and lent deeper interest
to the place; far as il lay out of the
beaten track travellers occasionally left
the diligence at the nearest point on the
high road and came to peer aWestruck
into its mysterious depths Before Herve
went to sea it had been his task TO act
as guide, plotting the unaccustomed Wis
itor Warily with strong hand and watch
ful eye. and relating with a Breton's I'M
conscious poetry the old-world stories of
the place. He had not failed to intro
duce his friend the priest TO what he
considered the chief lion in Plougallec
but Armand shrunk with an unaccount-
able distaste from the gloomy spot.
Ere long he reached the old woman's
solitary dwelling and raped. There
was no answer, and after repeated
summons he went to the little window
which, though rather high up in the wall
his tall stature could command, and
peered in. He knew Mother Nedelec
was deaf and he was unwilling to as
sumo that he had had his long hot tramp
in vain till he had made certain that the
cottage was empty. At first daZzled
with the sunshine, he could make out
nothing, but presently he perceived the
stlif wings of her white cap bending
over something in the corner by the
black oak bureau. AS his eve got used
to the obscUrity, he saw what was in
her hand. long stocking of gray-blue
wool, and into it she was counting
money; he could hear the chink of the
pieces as they fell, and could see the
CLEAN of gold. So after all rumor had
not been so far wrong
He would not startle her nor betray
that he had seen her occupation by rap
ping on the window. but returned to the
door, to which a repeated and peremp-
tory summons brought her after brief
delay. Mother Nedelec was a pale old
woman with handsome aquiline feat
IL IS; her gray eyes We're cold and hard
and her thin-lipped mouth shut tight
She listened civilly to the priests's ex-
PLANTATION of his errand. but gave cold
response. She was very poor old
woman, she said with hardly enough
to put bread into her mouth She won
dered NJ. lie Recteur should take the
trouble to come so far for what she
could give Why not ask NJ Michelet?
He could afford to build the chapel all
himself and not feel it. Armand look
ing at her white face and lean wrinkled
neck. could have believed these profess
sions Of poverty but for what he had
seen through the window. He was too
much of a gentleman to refer to this:
in fact, he felt as though he had been
playing the spy, and the feeling seemed
TO cripple his eloquence. He tried, how
ever, to explain to the old woman that
the valua lay in the good will Of the
giver, and that her little gift woul1 be
quite as precious as NJ. Micaelets if il
was In proportion to her means But
he was glad to depart presently, with
contribution Of two sous in his pocket
In the cool freshness of an October
morning Armand was pacing up and
down the little narrow orchard that adj
joined the presbytery The sunlight
fiickered down upon his tonsured head
through the branches; the mists were
clearing. but left every leaf and blade of
grass thick strung with glittering gems
which the skirt of his cassock brushed
off as ne passed. His breviary was I'm
his hand. his forefinger marking the
place as he held it half closed, and his
lips moved from time to time.
Into the stiffness broke suddenly a
noise, a confusion, a horror. First, a