Little Saint Elizabeth and Other Stories

Little Saint Elizabeth and Other
Stories , by

Frances Hodgson Burnett
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Title: Little Saint Elizabeth and Other Stories
Author: Frances Hodgson Burnett
Release Date: December 15, 2003 [eBook #10466]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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SAINT ELIZABETH AND OTHER STORIES ***
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LITTLE SAINT ELIZABETH
And Other Stories
BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT
1888

CONTENTS

Little Saint Elizabeth
The Story of Prince Fairyfoot
The Proud Little Grain of Wheat
Behind the White Brick

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM DRAWINGS BY REGINALD B. BIRCH
"There she is," they would cry.
It was Aunt Clotilde, who had sunk forward while kneeling at prayer
The villagers did not stand in awe of her
"Uncle Bertrand," said the child, clasping her hands
"Why is it that you cry?" she asked gently
Her strength deserted her--she fell upon her knees in the snow
"Why," exclaimed Fairyfoot, "I'm surprised"
"What's the matter with the swine?" he asked
Almost immediately they found themselves in a beautiful little dell
Fairyfoot loved her in a moment, and he knelt on one knee
"There's the cake," he said
"Eh! Eh!" he said. "What! What! Who's this Tootsicums?"

LITTLE SAINT ELIZABETH
She had not been brought up in America at all. She had been born in
France, in a beautiful _château_, and she had been born heiress to a
great fortune, but, nevertheless, just now she felt as if she was very
poor, indeed. And yet her home was in one of the most splendid houses
in New York. She had a lovely suite of apartments of her own, though
she was only eleven years old. She had had her own carriage and a
saddle horse, a train of masters, and governesses, and servants, and was
regarded by all the children of the neighborhood as a sort of grand and
mysterious little princess, whose incomings and outgoings were to be
watched with the greatest interest.
"There she is," they would cry, flying to their windows to look at her.
"She is going out in her carriage." "She is dressed all in black velvet
and splendid fur." "That is her own, own, carriage." "She has millions
of money; and she can have anything she wants--Jane says so!" "She is
very pretty, too; but she is so pale and has such big, sorrowful, black
eyes. I should not be sorrowful if I were in her place; but Jane says the
servants say she is always quiet and looks sad." "Her maid says she
lived with her aunt, and her aunt made her too religious."
She rarely lifted her large dark eyes to look at them with any curiosity.
She was not accustomed to the society of children. She had never had a
child companion in her life, and these little Americans, who were so

very rosy and gay, and who went out to walk or drive with groups of
brothers and sisters, and even ran in the street, laughing and playing
and squabbling healthily--these children amazed her.
Poor little Saint Elizabeth! She had not lived a very natural or healthy
life herself, and she knew absolutely nothing of real childish pleasures.
You see, it had occurred in this way: When she was a baby of two years
her young father and mother died, within a week of each other, of a
terrible fever, and the only near relatives the little one had were her
Aunt Clotilde and Uncle Bertrand. Her Aunt Clotilde lived in
Normandy--her Uncle Bertrand in New York. As these two were her
only guardians, and as Bertrand de Rochemont was a gay bachelor,
fond of pleasure and knowing nothing of babies, it was natural that he
should be very willing that his elder sister should undertake the rearing
and education of the child.
"Only," he wrote to Mademoiselle de Rochemont, "don't end by
training her for an abbess, my dear Clotilde."
[Illustration: "THERE SHE IS," THEY WOULD CRY.]
There was a very great difference between these two people--the
distance between the gray stone _château_ in Normandy and the brown
stone mansion in New York was not nearly so great as the distance and
difference between the two lives. And yet it was said that in her first
youth Mademoiselle de Rochemont had been as gay and fond of
pleasure as either of her brothers. And then, when her life was at its
brightest and gayest--when she was a beautiful and brilliant young
woman--she