From Caen to Rotterdam, Chapter VIII [pp. 411-419]

THE LADIES' REPOSITORY.
tendered by the willful Pitre. A feeble
ray of hope gleamed into his heart.
"Besides, Pitre would not listen to me,"
he said in extenuation of himself.
The letter written by Pitre was transmitted by a swift sailing vessel, and the
answer was not long delayed. Martha had
indited it through many blinding tears.
"So you know all, my dear brother,"
said she, "and that my dear aunt on her
death-bed, made me pledge myself solemnly never to go to France. Could I
refuse this satisfaction to the dying friend
who had done so much for me? For I
can truly declare she watched over and
served me like a mother. There is no
need of saying more on the subject, Pitre.
To change matters is simply impossible.
But how can you be so cruel as to say
that all the natural sentiments of affection have died out of my heart toward
you? The Lord above, who knows us
all, keep me firom any thing so revolting!
As long as I live shall I ever retain that
love for my relatives which I ought to
possess. If you had not a sister who
loved you tenderly, yet should you have
been the first to give me courage, and
you are the one who exhibits the greatest
irritation at my conduct. No person
save yourself has laid blame upon me.
... Even those who have suffered
more than you. Believe me, when I say
that I never consulted any one. It was
my free act. Both my aunt and M. Lemoine, the pastor, are united in their
opinion, and said that I ought not to go
to France. Have you forgotten all the
sad perils encountered by my dear father
and dear mother in escaping from their
own country to the land of strangers?
Pure and undefiled religion does not destroy our natural feelings, but it says,
whosoever lovethl father or mother
more than Christ is not worthy of him.
.. My dear brother, you well know
all that I have renounced."
After reading this letter a second time,
Pitre held it out to his cousin, who stood
at his side, leaning over the large entrybook.
"I suppose after all this parade," said
' hle, with irony, "thlatmy aunt constituted
Martha her sole heiress.
Claas bent down his head without
making response, and read the letter.
Then he returned the little sheet to Pitre
with a sigh and with moistened eyes.
"I heard it said in Rotterdam," replied
he at length, "that my aunt divided her
fortune in twvo equal parts be'tween Martha and my Aunt Madeleine,-considering that thou hadst received thy portion
in advance."
"I confess, then, that I can not understand the fooleries of women," grumbled
Pitre.
Claas rose silently and left the counting-room. In doing so he asked himself,
as he had often mused before, how it was
possible for one with such gross instincts
to be the son of the Advocate Michel
and brother of Martha Baserat?
The sacrifice of Martha was entire.
She continued to live in the home of her
Aunt Madeleine. Her cousins were
married. They had children who called
Martha their aunt, and who regarded her
as already an old woman.
Meanvwhile the regiment of William
PAris was on its return to Holland, and
he had risen to be its lieutenant-colonel.
The exposure and dangers of war had
made his complexion swarthy and hard ened his whole frame. He was abrupt
in speech, his voice of quick accent, and
his whole manner somewhat imperious;
but at the bottom of his heart he cher ished a sweet memory of his Cousin
Martha. Now that he had claimed a
leave of absence, for the first time during
his twenty years of campaign life, he
found her already the adopted daughter
of the paternal mansion, second only to
his mother in the household cares, writ ing for his father and reading to him of
an evening to preserve his eyes firom any
undue labor. William now assumed his
own part in these various duties, without
other consultation than his own will and
good judgment. t
"Martha," said he, one day, in the
terse manner belonging to him, "will
you consent to become my wife?"
4i8
[Nov.,