Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1910-04-13

But even as her hand closed upon it
it was gone. She had followed Far
into the forest she had followed And
at length
They were waiting for her at home
She must be very late! For an instant
the IightnesS left her lips and eyes
Her father would be angry. and Aunt
Marguerite, for it was not in keeping
with the honor of Valette that daugh-
ter of the house should keep waiting
the one to whom she was betrothed.
She would tell them that she had
not meant to chase the butterfly; that
she had meant to keep in all it's starch
ed purity the little white dress that
Aunt Marguerite and old Marie had
so carefully, so painstakingly. made
for her: that she had meant to stroll
only Il little Way a-down the path
that led to the broad acres that had
once been of Valette ere came the
clutching fingers Of hard faced poverty
to wrench them thence. She would
tell them these things; she would ex-
plain about the butterfly. But would
these things. that explanation, be suffi
cient? She did not know Her father
was strange man. a proud man, a
man reserved. She loved him much.
But sometimes he was strange. She
did not understand She felt far from
him. very far And Aunt Marguerite
was even the shadow Of her brother.
And so she hurried on.
In the great room of the house of
Valette. room that once had had
even the splendor OF the old chateau
in the Norman hills. but now time
worn, sunk into the dullness that
marks decay, were they preparing to
do their last dead slave the honor of
the candles. for old Christian had been
Obedient. faithful-yes, even to the end
of his days. And for this he was
to have the honor that comes to the
Valettes in their going.
1t was old Louise who counted thu,
candles now for the last slave, the
slave that was dead. Stout, heavy fea-
tured, clad in rough gray gown and
cap of spotless white, she bent over
the leather box that lay upon the
old table, taking therefrom the candles
and counting them as she did so. And
as she counted there came to the kind
~ old face a look of worriment.
At length she turned, hearing foot
steps. Came through the door the Sis
ter Of NJ. de Vaette Across the SOM
Der room she came, a highborn, high
bred woman of sixty. a woman Of deli
cate, pale. gentle face and slender fig
ure. Old Louise courtesied.
You are counting the candles?" ask
| ed Mile. de Falette. 1t was a ques-
ton that was not question. She went
on. my brother tolls the bell for old
Christian with his own hands,
The old servant shrugged her shout.
ders.
"Who else is there to do it?'' she
queried.
Mile. dc Valette said. lie maitre will
play the requiem" She was counting
the candles Finishing. she exclaimed
MY good Louise. there are not enough
Old Christian was sixty-three."
Again Louise shrugged her shoulders
Here are thirty-eight" she grum.
bled. THAT should be enough. Old
Christian! He WAS but black slave
after ALL" She shook her head.
In the year of our Lord 1915, you
know, slaves. especially dead slaves
were not Of much value. Candles were
Mile. de Valette, pity in her gentle
heart, would have made reply, but ere
opportunity was hers there had en-.
tered the room Father 'O'Alara. priest
Of the parish "A kindly man Father
O'A1ara. who lived much in the out OF
doors. a strong man and rugged and
a man of the kind that it were good
for God to have in his labor.
| He spoke in full. deep voice that
echoed resonantly from the dim raft
ers with barely trace of brogue. The
old servant courtesied. Mile. de Va.
lette inclined her head graciously.
"You are welcome. Father O'Mara,
she said. eve are preparing the can.
dies, you see. But there are not
enough. Louise!'
The old servant turned.
| Mile. de Valette. with light gesture
indicated where, upon the walls. tar
nfshed scOnces upheld blackened can
dies.
| take those" she commanded. IL
| will look through the house for 9TH
| ers''
She bowed to Father O's1ara, who
himself bowed. and passed through the
door. Old Louise obediently went
from sconce to sconce. gathering the
half burned bits Of wax and wick that
were to be the last earthly tribute to
| the dead slave. At length she came
again to the table, laying the old be-
side the new.
Father O'AIara took pinch of snuff,
watching her with shrewd, kindly gray
eyes.
mot enough candles?" he said at
length.
The old servant shook her head.
mo. father" she returned, mot un-
less you can convince the master that
old Christian was much younger than
he said he was. Wouldn't you say,
now, that be wouldn't have been more
than"-she stopped. counting the new
candles and the. '.forty -four?'' she
finished. i. .5#