of the purpose which brought me to this
place; I tell you this, as all that you need—
as all, I believe, that you would wish—to
know of what has passed while you have been
left waiting for me here. Such words as I
have now to speak to you, are spoken by your
father's earnest desire. It is his own wish
that I should communicate to you his confession
of having secretly followed you to The
Merchant's Table, and of having discovered
(as you discovered) that no evidence of his
guilt remained there. This admission he
thinks will be enough to account for his conduct
towards yourself, from that time to
this. I have next to tell you (also at your
father's desire) that he has promised in my
presence, and now promises again in yours,
sincerity of repentance in this manner:—
When the persecution of our religion has
ceased—as cease it will, and that speedily, be
assured of it!—he solemnly pledges himself
henceforth to devote his life, his strength,
and what worldly possessions he may have,
or may acquire, to the task of re-erecting
and restoring the roadside crosses which
have been sacrilegiously overthrown and
destroyed in his native province, and to
doing good, good where he may. I have
now said all that is required of me, and
may bid you farewell—bearing with me the
happy remembrance that I have left a father
and son reconciled and restored to each other.
May God bless and prosper you, and those
dear to you, Gabriel! May God accept your
father's repentance, and bless him also
throughout his future life!"

He took their hands, pressed them long
and warmly, then turned and walked quickly
down the path which led to the beach.
Gabriel dared not trust himself yet to speak;
but he raised his arm, and put it gently
round his father's neck. The two stood
together so, looking out dimly through the
tears that filled their eyes, to the sea. They
saw the boat put off in the bright track of
the moonlight, and reach the vessel's side;
they watched the spreading of the sails, and
followed the slow course of the ship till she
disappeared past a distant headland from
sight. After that, they went into the cottage
together. They knew it not then; but they
had seen the last, in this world, of Father
Paul.

                      *   *   *   *   *

The events foretold by the good priest
happened sooner than even he had anticipated.
A new government ruled the destinies
of France, and the persecution ceased
in Brittany. Among other propositions which
were then submitted to the parliament, was
one advocating the restoration of the roadside
crosses throughout the province. It was
found, however, on inquiry, that these crosses
were to be counted by thousands, and that
the mere cost of the wood required to re-erect
them necessitated an expenditure of money
which the bankrupt nation could ill afford to
spare. While this project was under discussion,
and before it was finally rejected, one
man had undertaken the task which the
government shrank from attempting. When
Gabriel left the cottage, taking his brother
and sisters to live with his wife and himself
at the farm-house, François Sarzeau left it
also, to perform in highway and byeway his
promise to Father Paul. For months and
months he laboured without intermission at
his task; still, always doing good, and rendering
help and kindness and true charity to
all whom he could serve. He walked many a
weary mile, toiled through many a hard day's
work, humbled himself even to beg of others,
to get wood enough to restore a single cross.
No one ever heard him complain, ever saw him
impatient, ever detected him in faltering at
his task. The shelter in an outhouse, the
crust of bread and drink of water, which he
could always get from the peasantry, seemed
to suffice him. Among the people who
watched his perseverance, a belief began to
gain ground that his life would be miraculously
prolonged until he had completed his
undertaking from one end of Brittany to the
other. But this was not to be. He was seen
one cold autumn evening, silently and steadily
at work as usual, setting up a new cross on
the site of one which had been shattered to
splinters in the troubled times. In the morning
he was found lying dead beneath the
sacred symbol which his own hands had completed
and erected in its place during the
night. They buried him where he lay; and
the priest who consecrated the ground allowed
Gabriel to engrave his father's epitaph
in the wood of the cross. It was simply the
initial letters of the dead man's name, followed
by this inscription:— " Pray for the
repose of his soul: he died penitent, and the
doer of good works"

Once, and once only, did Gabriel hear anything
of Father Paul. The good priest
showed, by writing to the farm-house, that
he had not forgotten the family so largely
indebted to him for their happiness. The
letter was dated " Rome." Father Paul said,
that such services as he had been permitted
to render to the Church in Brittany, had
obtained for him a new and a far more
glorious trust than any he had yet held. He
had been recalled from his curacy, and appointed
to be at the head of a mission which
was shortly to be despatched to convert the
inhabitants of a savage and a far distant land
to the Christian faith. He now wrote, as his
brethren with him were writing, to take leave
of all friends for ever in this world, before
setting out—for it was well known to the
chosen persons entrusted with the new
mission, that they could only hope to advance
its object by cheerfully risking their
own lives for the sake of their religion. He
gave his blessing to François Sarzeau, to
Gabriel, and to his family; and bade them