“Who?” asked the General.
“My foster-mother, Marthe Dervieu. You know her husband is dead, and all her children; she is quite alone, and loves no one in the world as she loves me. Only last week she told me that when I entered the Augustines, she should go there also as serving sister.”
“That would indeed be just the thing; she is of a good age, neither too young nor too old. Why, Mercèdes, everything seems to combine to carry out your wishes,” said her father.
“Marthe is just thirty-five; she was only nineteen when she nursed me,” answered Mercèdes. “She will be so glad to go away from here, where she has had so much sorrow. Here comes my mother; I will leave you with her, my dear father. I am so happy!” and catching up his hand, she pressed it to her lips, and then ran lightly down the steps leading from the terrace into the Château gardens.
That evening, after supper, it was announced to the assembled family that Mercèdes was going out to Canada to become a novice in the Convent of the Ursulines, and that her nurse Marthe Dervieu had agreed to accompany her. The mother’s eyes were red with weeping, and the old grandmother, Madame de St. Verin, held Mercèdes in her arms murmuring, “My poor lamb!”
“Nay, grandmother,” said the girl, though tears choked her own voice. “You are giving me to God; what matters it whether it be here or there, so that I do Him service? And my dear father needs me; he will feel that I am near him, praying, always praying for him; and when he is weary he will come into the quiet cloister, and we shall speak of home and of you all. Nay, rather rejoice that such high honour is accorded to me. Instead of an easy life of personal devotion, which would be mine if I stayed here, I shall teach little Indian children to worship Christ and show them the way to heaven. Give me your blessing, grandmother;” and she sank on her knees before Madame de St. Verin, who, touched by the girl’s devotion and enthusiasm, laid her thin white hands on the dark hair, saying,—
“May God bless thee, my child, and have you in His holy keeping now and for evermore.”
“Amen,” said all present; and then they gathered round Mercèdes and embraced her, and it was even as she desired, a scene more of joy than of sorrow.
The following day the General left, accompanied only by his son the Chevalier and Estève, his secretary. He decided at the last moment that his two servants should wait to escort Mercèdes and Marthe when the time came for them to join him.
He would not allow the parting to be a sad one, reminding his children that they were descended from heroes, and must demean themselves accordingly.