The news=record. [volume] (Enterprise, Wallowa County, Oregon) 1907-1910, 1910-04-09
Continued from first page.)

Continued from first page.)
plain about the butterfly. But would
these things, that explanation, be suffi-
Client? She did not know. Her father
was a 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 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. Came through the door the SIS
ter Of M. de Valette. Across the SON.
ber room she came, a highborn, high
bred woman Of sixty, woman of deli
cate, pale, gentle face and slender fig
ure. Old Louise courtesied.
ed Mile. de Valette. 1t was ques-
tion 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, lie maitre will
play the requiem" She was counting
lthe candles Finishing, she exclaimed.
"My good Louise, there are not enough
Old Christian was sixty-three."
Again Louise shrugged her shoulders.
Here are thlrty-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 OMara, priest
Of the parish--a kindly man Father
O'Mara, who lived much In the out of
doors, strong man and rugged and
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. "We are preparing the can,
dies, you see. But there are not
enough. Louisew
The old servant turned.
Mile. de valette, with light gesture,
indicated where, upon the walls, tar
nished sconces upheld blackened can
dies.
"Take those" she commanded. 81
will look through the house for 9TH
ers."
She bowed to Father O'Mara, 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
we're 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'Mara took pinch Of SNUFF,
watching her with shrewd. kindly gray
eyes.
''Not enough candlesf" he said at
length,
The old servant shook her head.
"No, 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 no wouldn't have been more
than"-she stopped, counting the new
candles and the old-"forty-fourY" she
finished
''Much more than forty-four. Louise"
Wagons Now Here