Volume 4 — CHAPTER XVII. EXPERIMENTS OF MORE KINDS THAN ONE.

"Papa," said Hester, "did I not hear you say those pretty farms in Yorkshire are about to change tenants?"

"You did, my dear."

"Have you any tenants in view for them?"

"No! Has any one applied to you for one, or all of them?"

"I want to be the tenant myself."

"You?"

"Yes, indeed; there are good coals beneath the surface; the district is well watered; I want to try these new steam engines on a large scale. I will set up factories and form industrial associations, governing them myself. I will establish them on the principle of mutual assistance in forming and promoting a wide-spread intelligence: my factories shall contain schools, reading-rooms, museums, observatories, everything that can assist the onward progression of the race."

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"You will at least spend money, Hester?"

"Not more than if I kept race horses for Ascot, or frequented Crockford's, which you could well afford to let me do if I were a man. Not more then I might cost you if I insisted on taking a house house in town, and on becoming the belle of the season; this would the neither extravagant nor wonderful; and if I wanted diamonds and emeralds and sapphires and glittering toys, you would get them all for me, I know you would, for when did you refuse your Hester anything, dear father?" said Hester, throwing her white arms around her father's neck. "But now I want none of of these babyish fancies, I want to do good in my generation, and my father must help me. We do not spend half our income in our present mode of living, and money is like manure you know, it wants spreading. Think of the glory of aiding 'progress.' Think of reigning over a population emancipated from ignorance by your efforts. Think of forming a nucleus whence freedom and happiness shall spring, handing down your name as a benefactor throughout all time; it is a project well fitted to my father s noble mind."

Mr. Godfrey gazed on his darling, and felt that he could refuse her nothing; still he paused. "Supposing the necessary expenses incurred, my Hester, your buildings erected, your villages formed, you have forgotten one thing; your schemes might be suddenly interrupted, when you least expected it: those farms are all entailed."

"I forgot that," mused Hester. After awhile she said: "Could not some arrangement be made with my brother on this subject?"

"I do not know. Is he a likely one, think you, to consent to the catting off the entail?"

"He might be," said Hester; "he must be badly off now, though I suppose my mother helps him. Offer him a handsome allowance for life, from this time out, on condition that the entail be cut off: he might be induced to accept it."

"He would be a fool if he did," said Mr. Godfrey.

"Nay, father, that is not so certain, if you take into consideration his present position. He is likely to suffer poverty for many years. I think I would accept the alternative were I in his place."

Mr. Godfrey could deny nothing to Hester, so he replied:

"Well, I will think of it."

. . . . .

But what had Eugene been doing all this time? Eugene, after his interview with his sister, went straight to M. Bertolot to inquire after his aunt and Euphrasie. He was not mistaken in supposing that he knew where they were, but he would tell nothing more than that they were in good health and spirits. "I have no authority," he said, "to divulge their place of abode; in fact, I promised secrecy."

"But how do they live? They have no means!" said Eugene.

"How, but by their labor!"

"Labor! my aunt labor?"

"No, I was wrong in saying their labor; it is Euphrasie who does the work. Euphrasie gives lessons in French, music, and drawing, and waits on her mother. De Villeneuve has hopes of recovering their estates for them. He is now in France negotiating with the emperor to that effect. He took care of them when they left your sister's and procured Euphrasie the situation she required, as both she and Madame refused to live at his expense."

"And did he offer to support them?"

"Well, yes; it appears that he and Euphrasie's father were sworn brothers in friendship, and de Villeneuve made a solemn promise to the Comte de Meglior to watch over Euphrasie's well-being. This promise keeps him in Europe to this day, for he had always a misgiving that she would not be permanently happy among those not of her faith. We are expecting de Villeneuve very shortly."

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"And if he succeeds, my aunt will go back to France?"

"Probably; but I am not so sanguine about their success as de Villeneuve is. Madame is an English-woman, and that will not help her cause with the emperor just now."

"And meantime Euphrasie works for her daily bread?"

"She does, and is happy in doing so. Euphrasie, my friend, is a practical Catholic; one whose delight it is to realize, to make her own, the life led by the holy family at Nazareth. I venture to say she is far happier in sweeping her mother's room and in cooking her mother's dinner than she would be in a glittering ball-room lit up with its brilliant chandeliers."

"And does she really descend to these menial offices?" asked Eugene, in a sort of stupefied amazement.

"Descend! Is it to descend when we aspire to imitate Jesus and Mary? You are a Catholic, my young friend. You must not look at these things with the eyes of the world: its false maxims are not the ones which may guide your ideas. Labor, actual manual labor, was imposed on man in penalty for sin; its acceptance is part of man's atonement for that undervaluing of grace which led to the commission of that sin: which still leads to the commission of daily sins. The avoidance of labor is a child of pride, one which has occasioned multitudinous disorders among mankind. But Jesus accepted labor—real, genuine labor: he worked many years at his father's trade, and Mary kept no servant in her house at Nazareth; she labored, for she felt that in lowly labor there is a sanctifying influence, and it is this thought that makes Euphrasie happy now."

"But she is so unused to actual toil!" said Eugene.

"Not so much as you may suppose," replied his friend. "The good nuns taught her much that was useful, and even when she was at Estcourt Hall and Durimond Castle she did much work that was unsuspected. The produce of her needle clothed the poor, fed the hungry, and many times defrayed the expense of a mission, when accident brought her in contact with poor Catholics to whom such ministrations were acceptable and profitable. All this was done so quietly that I suppose your family knew nothing about it."

"At least I never heard of it," said Eugene.

Our hero was much depressed by this interview, not merely because he could gain no clue to abode of his friends, but also because he was as yet too new to the practice of Catholic principles to acquiesce cheerfully in the idea of the refined, elegant, accomplished daughter of a French nobleman toiling for her daily bread, and performing all the menial services required in the household.

It was with right good-will that he greeted the Comte de Villeneuve on his return, in the hope through him of seeing something accomplished that would alter these circumstances. But the comte's embassy had been unsuccessful; all he had been able to effect was to leave the case with such other friends as should introduce it at a more favorable period. But he was not so reserved respecting his friends as M. Bertolot had been. He deemed that Eugene's position in his own family should plead exemption for him from the ban of exclusion, and willingly mediated to obtain an interview view for him with Madame. Euphrasie was not at home when he called; and Madame greeted him cordially, though she could not refrain from blaming him for running counter to his friends about religion.

"What a fuss about a matter of opinion," she said. "But perhaps in France, before the Revolution, a Protestant might have then as little acceptable to the aristocracy. They say, too, that this new man, this emperor, patronizes the Catholic religion also, so I shall not ask Euphrasie to become a proselyte to English notions; her faith is that of her country and of her kindred, and my brother ought to {495} have understood this; but why you, Eugene, should wish to adopt the French religion, I cannot divine."

"Perhaps religion is neither exclusively French nor English, aunt. There may be a faith necessary to every nation alike, if it be true that every man has a soul to save."

"Perhaps so; I do not meddle with these matters," replied the lady. "I think everyone had better let everybody alone; it must be bad to quarrel about religion; and as to saving the soul, we know so little about it that it is quite presumptuous for one person to dictate to another on that subject. I hope we shall all meet in heaven at last, though we go there by different roads; for my part, I keep nobody out."

The entrance Euphrasie prevent its the necessity of a reply. Euphrasie's greeting was that of one who appreciates high principal. There were respect and kindness in her manner, but no familiarity, no approach to intimacy. Eugene felt disappointed, though certainly there was nothing of which he felt he had a right to complain.

Eugene's visits to his aunt were now frequent, but never could he see Euphrasie alone; whether from design or accident she avoided receiving him, save in her mother's presence. Yet daily did his reverence for her increase. To see the young French girl now, the supporter of the household, the caterer for its wants, the tender minister to her mother's manifold demands, none would have dreamed that heretofore contemplation had absorbed her faculties, and that she was making to duty the greatest sacrifice she could make in thus exchanging the cherished practices of devotion for the active employments of life. She was so cheerful, so almost gay, so unusually animated when the state of her mother's spirits required it; a stranger might have concluded that all her life she had been accustomed to this manner of living.

Suddenly Eugene received a missive which had traced him to many places, requesting him to meet his father in London.

TO BE CONTINUED.

ORIGINAL.