Having thus spoken, the curé bowed, and left her, without waiting for a reply. The poor child was thunderstruck at finding herself the object of so much severity, prejudice, and injustice. "What have I done, then," she exclaimed, in tears, "to give such a bad opinion of me? I wish well to every one, and no one loves me. Oh, how ill-natured the world is—nobody has been kind to me but papa and mamma; and mamma is no longer with us!" Caroline abandoned herself for some time to all the bitterness of her heart, and was indignant at this malevolence, without at all considering whether it were altogether gratuitous, or whether it might not have some foundation. However, as she reflected on the reproofs of the curé, they brought to her recollection other occasions on which she might have justly incurred his censure. By continued reflection and self-examination, she at last perceived, that she must formerly have given a sufficiently bad opinion of herself to all the grave heads of the village, and that she had done nothing since calculated to change that opinion. Fully occupied with her father, towards whom alone she felt that she had been deficient, and with her brother, whom she considered as a sacred legacy from her mother, it had not for a moment occurred to her that strangers might have reason to complain, or pass an unfavourable judgment upon her conduct; nor that approbation might be refused, even when her actions deserved it. "It is quite natural," she said, at length; "why should Monsieur le Curé suppose that I have corrected my faults? He would not enquire of my father if I now comply with all his wishes, or ask Stephen if I am a patient teacher, or Denis whether I bear with him better than formerly. Since I wish to persuade him of the change which has taken place in me, I must begin by giving him proofs of it. I will do all I can, but it will take a long time, for Monsieur le Curé does not give up his notions very readily. I must ask my father to wait before he establishes the school." Monsieur de Manzay was surprised, like his daughter, at the prejudices which existed against her; he loved her so tenderly, and found in her so many charming qualities, that he could never have calculated the effects of her faults, and he found it difficult to conceive that any one could look upon his Caroline with other eyes than his own. However, he entered into her views, and readily consented to her wish to postpone the execution of her benevolent projects, in order to carry them out more effectually.
A few days after that on which the curé had treated her so harshly, Caroline met him again. He bowed to her with more amenity than on the former occasion, for he had reproached himself most heartily for having repulsed with such asperity the good intentions of so young a person, and one who showed so much enthusiasm. He had besides, made some inquiries about her during the interval; had spoken to persons who kept up an intercourse with the château; and all he had heard increased his regret. He was therefore glad to meet her, and hastened to address her. "How is your little brother, Miss Caroline?" he inquired; "I hear that he has a cold."
"Thank you, Monsieur le Curé, he is better to-day." They remained some moments silent, each wishing to say something, but not knowing exactly where to begin. Caroline at length broke the silence: "Monsieur le Curé, you were very hard upon me the other day; but you taught me something of which I was completely ignorant, and which it was very necessary I should know. I had forgotten my childish follies, and did not imagine that others would remember them; you have rendered me a service by undeceiving me; I entreat you now to assist me in convincing every one—and yourself especially—that I have altered for the better. What must I do for this purpose? I am ready to follow your advice."
"My dear young lady," replied the curé with a gentleness which was unusual to him, "I perceive clearly that you are very much improved, for formerly you resented the slightest remonstrance, and now you bear with sweetness even harshness and injustice. I have been really grieved, I assure you, that I was so hard upon you the other day. When I was at some distance, I said to myself: Now, here is this child of sixteen, who was never contradicted in her life, and yet is as patient as a lamb when severe things are said to her; whilst I, an old priest, who fifty years ago renounced the world and its passions, am angry and repulse her good resolutions. Instead of killing the fatted calf, I shut the door against the returning prodigal; and yet, poor little thing, she has done no great harm; she can only be reproached with childish conduct."
"Indeed! Monsieur le Curé," cried Caroline, joyfully, "you really thought all this? Oh! how grateful I am to you!"
"You have nothing to thank me for, my dear young lady, it is but common justice. I much wished to pay you a visit at the château, to express my regret, but I dared not, it is so long since I have seen Monsieur de Manzay, and I responded so ill last week to his request for additional seats in the church, that I did not know how he might receive me; but you are very kind I see, and you will not be offended with an old man who has not yet learned to command his temper. Oh! my child, you are young, and in the season of vigour; for the love of God, employ all the strength you possess in mastering your passions. This is the real duty of man, as the Scripture says. To be benevolent and compassionate, to possess a generous heart and an exalted character, to act so as to make yourself beloved by every one, all this is much in the sight of God and man, and all this I believe you will be; but still all this is not sufficient, and, in conjunction with so many good qualities, may exist great faults, which will prepare for us many regrets. Witness me, for instance, my dear young lady; I am not good for much, but I may say that I love my parishioners, and that I desire their welfare with all my heart. Your father has the best intentions possible, and is full of compassion for the poor, and yet I ask nothing from him, and take no advantage of so good a neighbour: and why is this? Because the first time I met him, four years ago, when he had just completed the purchase of this estate, I heard him praise the Revolution, and say that it was a glorious event. From that moment all was at an end between us; he appeared to my imagination a Jacobin, ready to set fire to our church, and oblige us again to say mass under the shelter of the woods; and I would never hear of any intercourse with him. I am no longer of that opinion, Miss Caroline: I perceive that it is possible to be a very peaceful, and a very honest man, and yet speak well of the Revolution; and several times I have been tempted to renew intercourse with Monsieur de Manzay, but various things have turned out unfavourably. He had a master removed whom I patronised; he decided the municipal council to employ upon a road the money which I had asked for a bell; and when you spoke to me about the school, I fancied it was to oppose me that he chose to have another in these new methods, of which I know nothing, and in which, therefore, I could not interfere. There is my confession, my dear young lady. Now give me your hand, for yourself, and for Monsieur de Manzay; assure me that you bear me no ill-will; and tell me what are your projects."
"I have none for the present, Monsieur le Curé," replied Caroline, greatly moved, as she placed her hand in that of the old man. "I have no plan, but to follow your advice in everything. Tell me what I must do, in order to make the villagers forget that I was formerly a very unreasonable child."
"My dear young lady, you need only be the same at Montfort that you are at the château. I have asked a great deal about you since the other day, and have heard much in your favour, but these things are not known amongst our people, and it is a pity. Observe, Miss Caroline, that you cannot be useful to our poor people, without becoming acquainted with them, and making them acquainted with you. Go and see them sometimes; I assure you that you would become attached to them; and when you are familiar with their wants and have acquired their confidence, we will talk of your school, if you like."
At this moment the bell of the château rang for dinner, and Caroline was obliged to take leave of the curé. They parted on the best terms possible, and the very next day she began her visits to the poor inhabitants of Montfort: but her project was not easy of accomplishment. The curé had not exaggerated the prejudices of which she was the object; and, to those which affected her personally, were united other grounds of dislike, of which she was totally innocent. The arrival of Monsieur de Manzay in this part of the country, had not been looked on with favour, because he succeeded a proprietor who was much beloved by the inhabitants, and who had been obliged, by misfortune, to sell the estate. In order to banish the remembrance of this unfavourable commencement, Monsieur and Madame de Manzay must have been to the inhabitants of Montfort all that Monsieur and Madame de Solanges had been. The latter, without children, without any lively affections, or high powers of mind, but endowed with that intelligent activity which is so great a resource in the various relations of life, took much interest in all the affairs of the peasantry, gave them advice and assistance, and were to them a sort of visible and friendly Providence, whose aid they believed could never fail. With Monsieur and Madame de Manzay all was very different: concentrated in their domestic circle, in the happiness of conscious mutual affection, in the care of their children, and in the elevated pleasures derived from highly cultivated minds, they paid little attention to anything beyond the very small circle of their affections. They were supposed to be indifferent, because they were exclusive; proud, because they were absorbed in themselves: and the departure of Monsieur and Madame de Solanges was a continued source of regret. Caroline was, therefore, not received with much pleasure at Montfort, and it often required great forbearance on her part not to abandon the inhabitants of the village to their unreasonableness and injustice, and renounce all her plans: even the curé himself, whom she had seen so well disposed, often fell back into his old prejudices against her and her family. Sometimes he would be influenced by the ill-humour of some of the village gossips, and sometimes the appearance of a dress or bonnet a little fashionable would induce him to say that Caroline was better fitted for the gay society of Paris than for the country, and that she would not do as much good in her whole life, as Madame de Solanges in a single hour. Sometimes he was angry because she did not compel all the household to attend church, but left every one at liberty in this respect; at others, Monsieur de Manzay, as mayor, had to support the rights of the commune against the encroachments of the curé, and the latter vented his displeasure on poor Caroline, and would hardly answer her when she wished to communicate to him her remarks, her views, and her hopes. The elections, when Monsieur de Manzay voted for the opposition candidate, retarded the establishment of the school at Montfort three months; not that the curé interested himself deeply in politics, but his friends took up the question with so much warmth, that they succeeded in inflaming him, and for more than six weeks he never set foot in the château.
Caroline found it difficult, without becoming morose, to fortify herself against all these obstacles; to maintain calmness under disappointment, yet keep up the same lively interest in success. Indeed, I know not if the welfare of the inhabitants of Montfort, her conviction that she had duties to fulfil towards them, and that God would not have given her the means, without imposing on her the obligation of being useful, would always have sufficed to support her under this arduous struggle—and if she might not, in a moment of discouragement, have said to herself, that she was no longer responsible towards persons who rejected all her efforts for their benefit,—had not another sentiment come to her aid, and softened the unpleasantness of her enterprise. She had perceived, with sorrow, that her mother was not beloved at Montfort as she deserved to be. Her first impulse was that of violent irritation and bitter displeasure against those who failed to do justice to Madame de Manzay; but a little reflection corrected this feeling, and she considered that the best homage she could render to the memory of her mother, would be to acquire the affection of her neighbours, to such a degree, that some portion of it might be reflected upon her by whose remembrance she was guided and encouraged: this idea rendered every sacrifice and every effort more easy to her; she found nothing difficult, when the aim was to call down blessings on the name of her mother, and to efface the unjust prejudice which even death had been unable to destroy. Her filial efforts were crowned with success; she saw all her desires accomplished; and became the successor, with the inhabitants of Montfort, to the attachment which they had retained for Monsieur and Madame de Solanges. They ceased to regret that Monsieur de Manzay had come to settle amongst them, and very soon began to congratulate themselves on that event; for Caroline, who was all-powerful with her father, induced him to have more intercourse with his neighbours, and by that means he was frequently able to be of service to them. A fountain was required in the town. Caroline begged her father to have one constructed, and to name it after her mother, so that her memory might be connected, in the minds of the people, with the idea of a benefit. The curé united with her in the distribution of relief to the poor: Caroline gave away flax for spinning, potatoes, meal; Monsieur de Manzay kept in store faggots and turf; and the curé recommended to them those who were really distressed and deserving of assistance. The school and the work-room were established, and the children made rapid progress. Thus, in the course of a few years, the inhabitants of the château and those of the village found their position, with regard to each other, completely altered; instead of being grievous and hurtful, they had been rendered agreeable and useful, through the exertions of a young girl, who, against the difficulties of the present, drew all her strength from her regret for the past, and her hopes for the future.