Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1912-10-31

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GLr9 always Dccn neT WlSH o spcHu OVo NAHAol-
H0 @4 mas in the serene atmosphere OF the gray,
nAa3e4S6M rambling old Convent of All Saints, which,
H&y Y EEE2SH like a ga,.rt but kindly sentinel, stands on
EVA ~ the brow OF a hill overlooking the quaint
SESEEX old French Canadian town of the same
name.
49, She was OF a different faith, and had
<tco been sent to the convent out of Difference
CD for her French and not for her religion;
but among the two hundred odd pupils
enrolled there, not one more dearly loved
the draughty old convent, the sweet-voiced Nuns, the
courtyard lapped in mystic silence, save for droning bee
or ,nelodious chant, with its sun-dial and its democrat
lied paths Of brick, disjointed and dislocated by
encroaclinc sweet williams, %gardenias, ~narigolds, and
rose geraniums, all Of which, since they craved the
light and sun, and did no particular mischief, were
allowed by the gentle lay sisters to grow at their own
sweet wil-very MUCH, go faheF Aususun ]oooSey
said, like the pupils.
Comfortable. ROSY and plump, shrcwd yet kindly, dry.
ecir;tua1. and vet somehow lovably humorous was
Father Aueustin, and versed as deeply in the human
heart as in his theologies; and it was him Elizabeth
loved hest Of all. 1t was Father Augustin who OWNED
that the grief which as early as October sent Elizabeth
TO the chapel to seek solace in prayer twice or thrice
a day was more than a surface grief.
Not being OF the good Abbe's faith, the path which
might have led directly from her heart to his through
confession was denied her, and Father Augustin cast
,bout to devise other means of probing and curing the
wound which the quick instinct of the priest told him
existed.
One afternoon, early in November, during the recrea-
hon hour when pupils and nuns played games on the
large lawn at the side of the convent, Elizabeth alone
was absent, and the Able knew, as well as II he had
looked, that she was on her knees in the chapel.
The chanel gave upon the courtyard garden, deserted
and silent at This hour a. the grave. Here Father
Aupustin waited until Elizabeth emerged from the
cloister. He heard her light footstep cracking among
the brown leaves. She stood beside the seat of crun-
bling marble, hung with ivy, on which he sat.
Father Augustin"
elizabeth, ! desire to speak with thee, my child"
She sat down beside him, a vague, misty pain looking
out of the eyes she had lifted to his face.
"My daughter, I have seen thee grow from child
hood to all but womanhood. I know that thy thoughts
arc pyrc. thy heart indebted, myself as sinless as blood
and flesh can be. Yet day after day l see thee creep to
the altar and pour out thy heart in prayer so passionate
that the burden which impelled it, il cause and effect
be commensurate, must be one which a maid OF tiny
years, standing upon the threshold OF life, should bt
ignorant of. Speak frankly to me, my daughter, as
thou wouldst speak with thine own father, were NJ
here"
Elizabeth burst into a gusty fit of weeping.
NAV" she cried, "f l were to speak to you as &c
nv own father, | would not speak at all, for he has
turned a deaf ear to all my entreatics. Stone. rock
iron, and adamant has he been. But you, dear
Father A.ugustin, will understand"
With some hesitation and many ~selfimposed inter
ruptions Elizabeth told her tale. It was the same
old commonplace, trite story-so banal and stale &c
us who know the worlds agony, and who have
learned to pass a poor soul struggling IN one OF the
whirlpools of life with a shrug of the shoulder and q
sigh; so new, acute, and unique to those to whom II
comes in the springtime OF life, when. through the
h%oodgatcs OF youth, meant to admit JOY ana 'oV'
only, the bitter bereavement enters.
Elizabeth's father, before leaving. France. Eliza
beth then being but a tiny girl OF four had ex
chan ged a pledge with a friend Of his, the father OF
hood and womanhood, should marry. And the en-
gagement was to be celebrated the coming Christ
"And how, dear Father Augustin." concluded thu
Girl, "can I love someone l have never seen. O
whom ] know not whether ne be gentle or rough
cav, can j love him1 And not loving him-how car
marry him? For is not marriage a sacrament on'!
"T Father Augustin furrowed his brow. Marriage
without love he held to be but one whit less vii
han love without marriage: Yet inns ne could no
Tell this spotless slip of a girl!
Before | can answer thee, he SAID, l must know
one thing. Dost thou love another
Elizabeth shook her head in vigorous negation.
ps .Mhe Hus wss ! !" to She sA sshe %e' al. saS' n a"G life have yea
lived here in the convent, excepting the annual sum
mer vacation, which ] spent at mountain or seashor
resorts, where there are more interesting matters t
10 than to speak to strange; young men." =.
Father Augustin stroked his beardless lip and hi
smile. He was accustomed to think rapidly, an
~apidly and to the purpose he thought. Choosing t
forget that he had left unanswered an embarrassin
question, he said:
H"Be content, my child. I will try to find som
means of tightening thy burden. At least | will err
deavor to stave off the catastrophe until next sprInl
And-would it please thee?-l think thou hast eS
pressed the wish in former years to spend tn
Christmas holidays here with us?'.
Father Augustinw cried ri, Elizabeth, If YOU ca
enough to save me from that hateful marriage as well
Father Augustin smiled a sly, sagacious smile, an
his blue eyes were shrewdly inscrutablle.
1--WE will live" he said, land we will see"
A fortnight later it was announced that Fatht
Augustin was forced to travel all the way to Ne
York on a matter of business. But the world woul
the affair which took him away from All Saints il
volved ceither money nor merchandise nor con
meree. But to the unwordly. Supplemented Of
priest the breaking of a girls heart was more serio,
a matter than the miscarriage of argosies.