CHAPTER XXI.

THE RETURN TO MORAINVILLE.

As the first sweet notes fell from Cæsar's fingers, the congregation turned their heads to see what this novel music meant, and Nadine, catching Abel's arm, whispered:

"Now I know the secret. Cæsar is going to sing '_Minuit Chrétien_,' he knows it perfectly."

Then a great silence settled upon the worshipers. It seemed as if they hardly breathed in their eager expectancy.

M. Blandinière was taken completely by surprise. The secret had been well kept. But he felt it in his heart that all would be well, and, pausing before beginning the _Pater Noster_, he stood with his arms outstretched towards his people, and the tears dimming his eyes while Cæsar's clear sweet voice filled the church with the lovely music of the _Cantique de Noel_.

It was a beautiful and impressive scene. Thrilled with the purest emotions, Nadine stood as in a dream. But for one thing, she would have been in a very heaven of joy--if only little Lydia stood beside her with Abel! Instinctively her heart was lifted to the good God that he would soon restore her darling sister to her.

When Cæsar finished there followed an interval of silence, and then the noble old priest, turning from the altar to the people, chanted in a voice trembling with tears, the _Pater Noster_.

For the first time in its history, the old church of Mamezan had heard the notes of a mandolin, and for the first time also, perhaps, had the simple villagers listened to so sweet and touching a rendering of the exquisite _Cantique de Noel_.

When the midnight Mass was ended the congregation returned to their homes, and for some time there echoed through the still, cold air of the night the clatter of their sabots upon the hard frozen ground.

The Tambys went back to the presbytery where Father Blandinière, taking Cæsar's hands in his, thanked him in these sincere, simple words:

"I thank you, my dear child, with all my heart. You have afforded me a great pleasure this night."

The Christmas celebration being over the children began preparations to leave Mamezan and the good curé who had proved so timely a benefactor. M. Blandinière had given them permission to give one performance before leaving the village. But they were very much concerned regarding it. Their program now seemed to be so sadly shortened with Lydia gone, and their "theater" destroyed. There remained just the amusing act of Steady and Vigilant, Cæsar's sleight-of-hand tricks and Nadine's pretty songs, excepting, of course, Nalla, who was their strongest card.

But they could not wait to rehearse new acts, for they must lose no further time in prosecuting the search for Lydia.

So the performance proved a disappointment, and the takings were very meager indeed. The Mamezan folk, it is true, were mostly poor, and had little money to spare, yet all the same it was with heavy hearts that they bade good-bye to the kind curé and once more took the road.

They were not far beyond the boundaries of the village, for poor old Steady made slow progress with the heavy van, when a man caught hold of his bridle, and made him stop, which indeed he was only too glad to do.

"My children, you go no farther in that direction. I have come for you."

Nadine, Cæsar, and Abel instead of being alarmed at this startling action, joined in an exclamation of surprise and joy, for it was not a highway robber that had thus halted them, but an old acquaintance whom they were delighted to recognize--no other than the kind old constable of Morainville, who had so befriended them at that place.

What could _he_ be doing there--nearly a hundred miles away from home?

Divining their astonishment at his appearance the constable made haste to speak.

"You are surprised to see me, no doubt. For eight days have I been following you stage by stage of your journey. I have good news for you."

"Lydia!" at once cried the three children together. She was their first thought. No matter what their trials might be they seemed as nothing to them in comparison with the loss of Lydia.

But the constable shook his head.

"No--not Lydia yet," he answered in a lower tone. "We shall find her soon, never fear. But I have come to take you back with me."

"To take us back with you?" exclaimed Nadine. "What do you mean, my dear constable?"

"Just what I say," the old man responded, smiling upon her. "It is the order of Madame Pradère. She has sent me for you."

"Madame Pradère!" echoed Nadine, her own countenance brightening at the mention of the name. "Our kind benefactress! Does she really want us to go to her?"

"To be sure!" returned the constable, who evidently enjoyed his mission. "You don't know how sorely she has been bereaved since you were at Morainville."

"Yes--I do," replied Nadine, softly, her eyes filling with tears. "She lost her husband by a dreadful accident."

"Ah! She has changed greatly since then," the constable went on. "Her hair has become almost white. There was a time when they feared for her reason."

"The poor lady!" murmured Nadine. "How she must have suffered!"

"Yes--ah yes!" sighed the constable. "And she wants to be comforted in her loneliness. She has neither husband nor children now, and so she sent me off to find you, and bring you back. She has resolved to take care of you for the future."

Nadine and Cæsar looked at one another in bewilderment. What could the constable mean? If they did not know how good and kind he was they might have thought he was out of his senses. Madame Pradère to adopt them! Surely it was too good to be true!

But the constable soon convinced them that he was altogether in earnest. Madame Pradère had sent him for them, and they must return with him. He had his orders, and he was bound to carry them out. So, casting away all doubt, they placed themselves under his guidance.

Nalla and Steady were then turned about, and pointed in precisely the opposite direction. That is, they were to proceed due north instead of due south.

It was the constable's first experience of traveling by van, and he took to it very kindly, saying over and over again that it was decidedly a most pleasant means of locomotion.

"You certainly get a good view of the country, and have time to become well acquainted with it," was his sagacious comment.

He had ample funds wherewith Madame Pradère had thoughtfully provided him, and the Tambys enjoyed every needed comfort, while the animals were fed as never before.

Under this generous treatment Nalla completely recovered his health, and old Steady positively grew fat, the ribs that had been showing so plainly going quite out of sight.

For a score of days they traveled steadily but slowly, and what between entire relief from all anxiety as to their daily bread, the unwonted abundance of excellent food, and their thoroughly healthy outdoor life in the pleasant company of the genial constable, the three children improved wonderfully in appearance, so that by the time they reached Morainville they were each and all looking their very best.

It was with an amusing yet surely pardonable air of proud satisfaction that the constable conducted them to the Pradère chateau.

He had taken the precaution of informing Madame Pradère in advance of their arrival, and she was ready to receive them with a warm and tender greeting.

Nadine was touched to tears when she saw how the good lady had altered and aged in the short space of time since she parted from her. Her abundant hair was almost snow-white, her beautiful features were deeply lined, and her step had lost all its spring. She moved and spoke softly.

But there was no mistaking her pleasure at the return of the children. Both from the magistrate at Beaulieu, and Father Blandinière she had had letters in regard to them. She knew much of their sufferings, and she was eager to console them for their trials, and to forget her own sorrows in the endeavor to make them happy.

"My dear children," she said after she had embraced them in turn, "it is because I myself have suffered that I want you, who are still so young, to forget your many tribulations. I once had children of my own. The good God gave them to me. But He took them from me again, and now I want to fill the empty place that they have left. I shall take entire care of you, and shall be responsible for your future. You shall share all that I possess, and be denied nothing that will be for your good. The search for your sister Lydia shall be continued until she is found and restored to you. And now, my dear children, are you content to accept my proposal?"

Content to accept her offer--the advantages and attractions of which were so great that they could scarcely credit their understanding of it--? Indeed they were content--and more--they were filled with rapture and gratitude. It meant their admission into a veritable Paradise. No more hunger--no more cold--no more anxiety about food or clothing--no more rough or rascally people to deal with--oh, how good it was of God to give them such a friend!