ficers who guarded them had pity on the pretty
girl, and said to her as they were a little apart from the rest, "Come,
you are young, and can run. I will save you; it is a pity so fine a
little girl should be shot."

'Then she was glad and thanked him much, saying, "And the grandmother
also? You will save her with me?" "It is impossible," says the officer.
"She is too old to run. I can save but one, and her life is nearly over;
let her go, and do you fly into the next wood. I will not betray you,
and when we come up with the gang it will be too late to find you."

'Then the great temptation of Satan came to this girl. She had no wish
to suffer, but she could not leave the good old grandmere to die alone.
She wept, she prayed, and the saints gave her courage.

'"No, I will not go," she said; and in the morning at St. Malo she was
shot with the old mother in her arms.'

'Could you do that for your grandmere?' I once asked, as she stopped for
breath, because this tale always excited her. She crossed herself
devoutly, and answered with fire in her eyes, and a resolute gesture of
her little brown hands,--

'I should try, mademoiselle.'

I think she would, and succeed, too, for she was a brave and
tender-hearted child, as she soon after proved.

A long drought parched the whole country that summer, and the gardens
suffered much, especially the little plats in Lehon, for most of them
were on the steep hillside behind the huts; and unless it rained, water
had to be carried up from the stream below. The cabbages and onions on
which these poor people depend, when fresh salads are gone, were dying
in the baked earth, and a hard winter was before them if this little
store failed.

The priests prayed for rain in the churches, and long processions
streamed out of the gates to visit the old stone cross called the 'Croix
de Saint Esprit,' and, kneeling there in crowds, the people implored the
blessing of rain to save their harvest. We felt great pity for them, but
liked little Marie's way of praying best.

She did not come one morning, but sent her brother, who only laughed,
and said Marie had hurt her foot, when we inquired for her. Anxious to
know if she was really ill, we went to see her in the afternoon, and
heard a pretty little story of practical Christianity.

Marie lay asleep on her mother's bed in the wall, and her father,
sitting by her, told the tale in a low voice, pausing now and then to
look at her, as if his