Both the children listened to Jeanette's story with keen interest, and Irene asked,—
"How is your poor mother now?"
"She is calm, she is quiet; she does her work for them all, and her face has a look of peace. M. le Curé says it is the peace that comes of bearing sorrow, as the Lord Jesus bore the cross, and that is the way for us all; little and young, or old, it is the same. But I must go; there is so much work, night and day, day and night. See, dear little ma'm'selle"—and Jeanette foraged in the deep pocket of her white apron—"here are some bon-bons, chocolate of the best; see, all shining like silver."
She laid some round chocolate balls, covered with silver paper, in Dorothy's hand, and said,—
"Try to sleep away your sorrow, ma'm'selle, and wake fresh and happy for madame's sake."
"Every one tells me that," said Dorothy, "except mother. She does not tell me I don't care for her; she does not tell me to be happy for her sake. As if I could—could—forget my Nino!"
"No one thinks you can forget him," Irene said; "but if crying makes you ill, and makes your mamma miserable, you should try to stop."
Dorothy began to taste the excellence of Jeanette's chocolate, and offered some to Irene, saying,—
"That was a pretty story of Jeanette's about her poor little brother. Didn't you think so, Irene?"
"Yes," Irene said, thoughtfully; "I hope God will comfort Antoine's poor father."