In His Name - A Story of the Waldenses, Seven Hundred Y

In His Name - A Story of the Waldenses, Seven Hundred Years Ago

by Edward Everett Hale A STORY OF THE WALDENSES, SEVEN IIUNDRED YEARS AGO - 1885 - CONTENTS. CB AP. I. I I. 111. IV. v. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XI I. F LICIE . . . . . . JEAN WALDO . . . . THE FLORENTINE . . UP TO THE HILLS . . LOST AND FOUND . . THE CHARCOAL-BURNER JOHN OF LUGIO . . . THET ROUBADOU . R . CHRISTMAS EVE . . . CHRIST ADSA WNS . . TWELFTHNI GHT . . . THEW HOLES TORY. . APPENDIX . . . . . I N H I S NAME. F LICI w E as the daughter of Jean Waldo. Slic was the joy of her fathers life, and the joy of the life of Madame Gabrielle, his wife. She was well named FClicie for she was happy herself, and slie made everybody happy. She was a suilbeaill in the house, in the workshops, in the court-yard, and ainong all the neighbors. Her father-and mother were waked in the morning by her singing and many a time, when Jean Waldo was driving a hard bargain with some spinner froin the country, the mere sight of his pretty daughter as she crossed the court-yard, and the sound of her voice as slie sang a scrap of a hymn or of a crusading song, would turn his attention from his bartkr, ant1 he would relax his hold on the odd sols and deniers. as-if he had never clung to them. By the same spells she was the joy of the neighborhood. The beggars loved her, the weavers loved hcr, she could come and go as she chose even ainor-g thefullers and dyers, though they were rough fellows and there was nothing she could not say or do with their wives and children. When the country spinners came in with their yarn, or the weavers with their webs, they vould wait, on one excuse or another, really to get a word with her and many was the rich farm in the valley to which Fdlicie went in the summer or autumn to make a Iong visit asshe chose. Fdlicie was queen of her fathers household and of all around. On one of the last days in December, Fdlicie was making a pilgrimage, after her own fashicn, to the church of St. lhomas of Fourvikres. The hill of FourviBres is a bold height, rising almost . from the heart of the old city of Lyons. . And Fd- 3-licie liked nothing better than a brisk scramble to the top, where, as she said, she might see something. This was her almost daily pilgrimage. She gave it this name in sport, not irreverent. For, as she went, she always passed by old women a-110 were making a pilgrimage, as they do to this hour, to the church of St. Thornas now t, e church of Our Lady, which was supposed, and is supposed, to have great power in saving from misfortune those who offer their prayers there. Felicie in passing always looked into the little church, and crossed herself with holy water, and fell on her knees at an altar in a little chapel here was a picture of St. Fdlicie lying on the ground, with a vision of Our Lady above. The Fdlicie who was not a saint would say Ave Maria here, and Our Father who art in heaven, and would wait - a minute upon her knees to see if her Father had any thing to say to her and then would cross herself again, and as she passed the great altar, would kneel once more, and so would be out in the fresh air again. This was almost an every-day occurrence. On this day Fdlicie waited a little longer. Among a thousand votive offerings in the church, hung there by those who were grateful for an answer to their prayers, she saw to-day two which she had never seen before. - They were pictures, - not, to tell the truth, very well painted. But to Fdlicje. the finer or coarser artwas a matter of very l ttle account. Each of them represented a scene of preservation in danger...