English fiction -- 19th century; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction; Mystery fiction; Smugglers -- Fiction
The child went over on the following day. She was entered as
Mademoiselle Marie Guise. Very much astonished would those good
ladies have been had they known her true name to be that of their
Superior--Mary Ursula Castlemaine! There was no fear of the child
betraying secrets. She was a very backward child, not only in speech;
she seemed to have forgotten all about her father, and she could not
have told the name of her native place, where it was, or anything about
it, if questioned over so. Trouble was expected with her at the
parting. Her mother was advised not to attempt to see her for some
three or four days after she went over to the Nunnery: but rather to
give her time to get reconciled to the change, and to this new abode.
It was cruel penance to the mother, this parting; worse than it could
have been to the child. Those who understand the affection of some
French mothers for their children, and who remember that the little
ones never leave their side, will know what this must have been for
Charlotte Guise. She saw Marie at a distance on the following day,
Sunday--for it happened to be Saturday that the child went in. The
little church was filled at the three o'clock afternoon service, when
Parson Marston gabbled through the prayers and the sermon to the
edification of his flock. Little Marie sat in the large pew with the
Grey ladies, between Sister Mary Ursula in her black attire, and
Sister Betsey in her grey. The latter who had a special love for
children, had taken the little one under her particular charge. Marie
was in black also: and a keen observer might have fancied there was
some sort of likeness between her and the stately Head Sister beside
her. The child looked happy and contented. To the scandal of the
surrounders, no doubt far more to them than to that of the Parson
himself, whose mouth widened with a laugh, she, happening to espy out
her mother when they were standing up to say the belief, extended her
hands, called out "Maman! maman!" and began to nod incessantly. Sister
Betsey succeeded in restoring decorum.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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