The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-04-16

1 only a little way a-down the path
 that led to the broad acres that had ] once been of Valette ere came the 1 clutching fingers of hard faced poverty 1 to wrench them thence. She would l tell them these things; she would ex- l plain about the butterfly. But would
 these things. that explanation, be sufh- 1 cient? She did not know. Her father 1 was strange man, a proud man. 8 man reserved. She loved him much. | But sometimes he was strange. She did not understand. She felt far from 1 him, very far. And Aunt Marguerite was even the shadow of her brother. i And so she hurried on.
 
 1 In the great room of the house of 1 Valette a room that once had had even the splendor of the old chateau l 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 candies. for old Christian had been obedient. faithfuI-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. It was old Louise who counted the 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 ly old face look of worriment.
 At length she turned. hearing foot steps Game through the door the sis ter of Az.~ de VaIette. 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 Valette. If 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 shoul- ders.
 "who else is there to do it?' she queried-
 Mile. de valette said. -Le maitre will play the requiem She was counting the candles Finishing. she exclaimed: ''Nfy 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 a black slave, after all's 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'Mara, priest of the parish-a kindly man Father O-Afara, 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 CTS with barely trace of brogue. The old servant courtesied. Mile. de Va lette inclined her head graciously.
 You are welcome. Father OMara." she said. eve are preparing the can dIes, you see. But there are not enough. Louiser'
 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. "I will look through the house for oth- ers''
 She bowed to Father o'Mara, who himself bowed, and passed through the door. Old Louise cbediently 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'Afara took a pinch of snuff. watching her with shrewd. kindly gray eyes.
 -+Not enough candles?" he said at length.
 The old servant shook her head.
 'sNo. 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 he wouldn't have been more than"-she stopped. counting the new candles and the old-"forty -four?' she finished.
 Much more than forty-four, Louise" said Father O'N1ara, smiling a little. But what has his age to do with 1t? Four candles are enough for your chapel altar"
 His age has all to do with it,' she replied. You haven't been long in this parish. father, or you would ! know"
 He lifted his hands.
 'Longr' he exclaimed. My soul! | I've been priest of this parish sixteen | years come Easter!''
 Ut is seventeen years since the last l death in the De valette family. That | was Mile. Madeleine's mother. She | pass to the blessed saints when MIe i was born, the year before | you came, so you do not know our | custom here of Valette. father" 'tYOur custonY'
 ''The custom of the candles. In this | family of Vaiette they call it the hon. pr of the candles. They have that for hundreds of years. Since the time of she Emperor Charlemagne, iIaF'rance,