"Then we should be shot down like wolves, or carried away no one knows where. Such things happen every day." "And in our free country, where every one can worship, the pastor has often hard work to gather a dozen people to the communion," remarked Andrew. "Truly, if Papist France deserves a judgment for suppressing the truth, I know not but England deserves as much for neglecting it." "Are people there, then, so careless of duties?" I asked. "Many of them are. The court sets the worst example, and those of the gentry who frequent it are not slow to follow. And though there are in London itself and scattered all through the land faithful and earnest preachers of the Word, there are also far too many who think of the church only as a means of getting a living at a very easy rate. And yet I dare say a great many of these easy-going pastors, if it came to the pinch, would wake up and show that they could die for their faith, if need were. Only they would not die as easily as people seem to do over here," he added. "They would have a fight for it first." "Our pastors do not think it right to fight," said I, a little vexed. "I know they do not, and there is where I differ from them," said he. "Is this the farm where we are going? What an odd, pretty place! And what splendid old apple-trees!" "Yes, Father Simon is very proud of his apples, poor man. The place does not look like itself," I added, with a sigh, as I missed Lucille from the bench before the door, where she would have been sitting with her distaff at this hour. We found Mother Jeanne going about her household work as usual, but in a sad, spiritless way, quite unlike her ordinary bustling fashion. Her face brightened, however, when she heard my errand, and she called in Simon to hear it also. To him I gave, in addition to the questions about storing the apples, a commission about cider-casks, to be executed at Sartilly. "It is well," said he; "I shall attend to the matter. Our Master has not quite forgotten us, thou seest, my Jeanne, since he sends us such help and comfort by the way." "Did you think he had, Father Simon?" I asked. "Not so, Mamselle, but one's faith droops at times; and when one is weary and faint with the heat of the day, it is a wonderful comfort to come on a clear well of living water. Tell your honored father that I will attend to the matter." "And about the eggs?" I asked. "I have a few for madame, and Marie Duclas has some, I know." "Who is this fine chevalier, my child?" asked Jeanne, as I followed her to the well-known outhouse where the hens' nests were. "Is he one of your English cousins?" It was with some pride that I informed my foster-mother of Andrew's relation to myself. Jeanne was much affected. She clasped me in her arms and wept over me, calling me by every endearing name in her vocabulary, now lamenting that I should go so far-away, and then rejoicing that I should be in safety.