The Childrens Pilgrimage | Page 6

me full in the face, Cecile, and make the promise as solemn as
though it were yer werry last breath--look me in the face, Cecile, and
say after me, 'I promise to find Lovedy again.'"
"I promise to find Lovedy again," repeated Cecile.
"Now kiss me, child."
Cecile did so.
"That kiss is a seal," continued her stepmother; "ef you break yer
promise, you'll remember as you kissed the lips of her who is dead, and
the feel 'ull haunt you, and you'll never know a moment's happiness.
But you're a good girl, Cecile--a good, dependable child, and I'm not
afeared for you. And now, my dear, you has made the promise, and I
has got to give you directions. Cecile, did you ever wonder why your
stepmother worked so hard?"
"I thought we must be very poor," said Cecile.
"No, my dear, yer father had that little bit of money coming in from

France every year. It will come in for four or five years more, and it
will be enough to pay Aunt Lydia for taking care on you both. No,
Cecile, I did not work for myself, nor for you and Maurice--I worked
for Lovedy. All that beautiful church embroidery as I sat up so late at
night over, the money I got for it was for my girl; every lily I worked,
and every passion-flower, and every leaf, took a little drop of my
heart's blood, I think; but 'twas done for her. Now, Cecile, put yer hand
under my pillow--there's a purse there."
Cecile drew out an old, worn Russia-leather purse.
"Lovedy 'ud recognize that purse," said her mother, "it belonged to her
own father. She and I always kept our little earnings in it, in the old
happy days. Now open the purse, Cecile; you must know what is inside
it."
Cecile pressed the spring and took out a little bundle of notes.
"There, child, you open them--see, there are four notes--four Bank of
England notes for ten pounds each--that's forty pounds--forty pounds as
her mother earned for my girl. You give her those notes in the old purse,
Cecile. You give them into her own hands, and you say, 'Your mother
sent you those. Your mother is dead, but she broke her heart for you,
she never forgot your voice when you said for pity's sake, and she asks
you now for pity's sake to forgive her.' That's the message as you has to
take to Lovedy, Cecile."
"Yes, stepmother, I'll take her that message--very faithful; very, very
faithful, stepmother."
"And now put yer hand into the purse again, Cecile; there's more
money in the purse--see! there's fifteen pounds all in gold. I had that
money all in gold, for I knew as it 'ud be easier for you--that fifteen
pounds is for you, Cecile, to spend in looking for Lovedy; you must not
waste it, and you must spend it on nothing else. I guess you'll have to
go to France to find my Lovedy; but ef you're very careful, that money
ought to last till you find her."

"There'll be heaps and heaps of money here," said Cecile, looking at the
little pile of gold with almost awe.
"Yes, child, but there won't, not unless you're very saving, and ask all
sensible questions about how to go and how best to find Lovedy. You
must walk as much as you can, Cecile, and live very plain, for you may
have to go a power of miles--yes, a power, before you find my girl; and
ef you're starving, you must not touch those four notes of money, only
the fifteen pounds. Remember, only that; and when you get to the little
villages away in France, you may go to the inns and ask there ef an
English girl wor ever seen about the place. You describe her,
Cecile--tall, a tall, fair English girl, with hair like the sun; you say as
her name is Lovedy--Lovedy Joy. You must get a deal o' sense to do
this business proper, Cecile; but ef you has sense and patience, why
you will find my girl."
"There's only one thing, stepmother," said Cecile; "I'll do everything as
you tells me, every single thing; I'll be as careful as possible, and I'll
save every penny; but I can't go to look for your Lovedy without
Maurice, for I promised father afore ever I promised you as I'd never
lose sight on Maurice till he grew up, and it 'ud be too long to put off
looking for Lovedy till Maurice was grown up, stepmother."
"I suppose it would," answered Cecile's stepmother; "'tis a pity, for he'll
spend some of the money. But there, it can't be helped, and you'll do
your best. I'll trust you to do yer werry