It was Jeanne. She caught at the
skirt of my soutane, and broke into sobbing.
"'My father, let the Blessed One wear them ever, or else help me to
give them back!'
"You will now guess, monsieur, on what business I have been visiting
England. It is a great country. The old clergyman sat among his
azaleas and rhododendrons and listened to all my story. Then he took
the box that held his daughter's jewels, and, emptying it upon the
table, chose out one necklace and set it aside. 'This one,' said he,
'shall be sold, my friend, and with the money you shall, after giving
this girl a marriage portion, re-adorn your church on Ile Lezan to
the greater glory of God!'"
On our way back to his lodging the little Cure halted me before the
cottage. Gay curtains hung in the windows, and the veranda had been
freshly painted.
"At the end of the month Lucien gets his relief, and then they are to
be married," said the little Cure.
THE WREN.
A LEGEND.
Early on St. Stephen's Day--which is the day after Christmas--young
John Cara, son of old John Cara, the smith of Porthennis, took down
his gun and went forth to kill small birds.
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