Part 4 (1/2)

”Yes, for once you have hit on a bright idea, and we will act on it. Let us go in and see the priest. And, my young friend, remember that most of these priests are gentlemen, so mind your manners.”

”I expect that house next the church is his,” replied young Brown. ”We can walk slowly on, and, in the meantime, the priest will come from his devotions.”

CHAPTER V.

”A parish priest was of the pilgrim train; An awful reverend and religious man.

His eyes diffused a venerable grace, And charity itself was in his face.

Rich was his soul, though his attire was poor (As G.o.d hath clothed his own amba.s.sador), For such, on earth, his bless'd Redeemer bore.”

Dryden.

Rene Bois-le-Duc, cure of Father Point, had just come home, and was preparing to take his ease after a hard day's toil, antic.i.p.ating the arrival of the pilgrims, who were about to visit the church of the Good St. Anne.

The cure was a man of some sixty years of age, though looking older, for his had been a hard and toilsome life. Though secluded from the busy world, he had had heavy responsibilities forced upon him, and there was no one of his own cla.s.s and education in these parts to cheer and sympathize with him in his rare moments of leisure.

Belonging to one of the oldest families in Brittany, Rene Bois-le-Duc had, in spite of the strong attractions of worldly society, early conceived a high ideal of what life ought to be.

This ideal was fostered by the influence of his instructors at college.

His enthusiastic temperament and ascetic leanings led him to think seriously of entering holy orders when quite young, but this idea met with strong opposition from his parents; so, for a time, he abandoned it.

In Paris for one short winter with his elder brother Octave, he was much sought after for his rare musical talents, as well as his personal attractiveness, which charmed all with whom he came in contact. Madame la Marquise was proud of both her sons, but Rene she idolized, and he returned her affection with a devotion rare even in the best of children.

Like a sudden clap of thunder, there came on the gay world of Paris one spring morning the news that Rene Bois-le-Duc had joined the great Dominican order, and had been hurriedly sent off at a moment's notice on a mission to America. At first it could not be believed possible; but at length, after a year when he did not return, the fact could not be doubted. But what was the reason for this sudden step? Why had he not told his friends? Why did he leave in this way? There was a mystery about it, and his former friends were not slow in inventing evil reports about the absent one. Octave Bois-le-Duc never mentioned his brother, nor was the mystery ever cleared up.

All this, of course, happened many years before my story opens; and though at first Rene Bois-le-Duc found his new life hard, exiled as he was from all his former a.s.sociates, he had never returned to France. At times he had been sorely tempted to do so, but he knew that none could replace him in his work at Father Point, and he had grown to love his people--to be, indeed, a father unto them, mindful both of their spiritual and temporal well-being.

Nor can it be said that his talents were entirely thrown away, for from time to time some highly polished poem or literary critique would find its way from the lonely little house on the banks of the St. Lawrence to a standard French magazine; and old schoolmates of the cure would shrug their shoulders and say, ”Oh, here is a capital thing by Rene Bois-le-Duc. I thought he was dead and buried long ago.”

And he was, indeed, so far as men of his own standing and education were concerned. Except for an annual visit from his bishop, and occasionally one from a pilot or sea captain, M. Bois le-Duc seldom heard news of the outer world. On the whole, his life was not an unhappy one, and certainly not idle. Most of the hours not spent in parish work were occupied in perfecting the education of several of the young men in whom he was interested. With Noel McAllister he took special pains. Whether the results were satisfactory in this particular case may be doubted; still he did what he considered best, and left the issue to Providence.

In Marie Gourdon, too, he took a great interest. Her mother had died when she was scarcely six months old. Her father had never troubled his dull head about her; and, after she left the convent at Rimouski, she led a very lonely life for so young a girl.

There was much to interest even such a cultivated man as M. Bois-le-Duc in Marie Gourdon. She had inherited from her mother a remarkable talent for music, such as many of the French Canadians have strongly developed.

Her soprano voice was powerful, clear and flexible, and her ear was very correct. The good cure judged that, if given proper training, and the advantages Paris alone could afford, the little Canadian girl might become an artist of the first rank. But how send her to Paris? The thing seemed impossible. Where was the money to come from? True, M. le cure had been well paid for his last review in the Catholic Journal, but he had exhausted this money in sending Eugene Lacroix, another _protege_, to Laval for a twelvemonth. Alas now his treasury was empty; his cupboard was bare!

This evening he was thinking all these matters over, when suddenly he was roused from his meditations by the voice of Julie, his old housekeeper, calling out:

”M. le cure, there is a gentleman asking for you at the door.”

”For me, Julie, at this hour? Who is he?”

”Not a Frenchman, that is very certain, monsieur; I should think not, indeed; his accent is execrable;” and the good woman lifted her hands with a gesture of despair.

”Could you not understand what he wanted?” asked the priest.

”No, monsieur; the only word I could make out was '_la coore_,' so I thought that might mean you.”