MADELINE. 129

For this purpose she took from her little bank a long-
hoarded five-franc-piece, and, true to her decision, made her
way alone to Auvers the next day. Again she stood before the
wayside cross and offered up her little prayer for her grand-
mother’s love, and again she saw the old woman approaching.
This time Madeline went toward her.

“TI think you dropped some money yesterday,” she said,
sweetly. . ,

“Yes, you are right; I did,” replied the old woman; then
she bent over and looked steadfastly in the child’s face. “The
same, the same,” she said, in a low tone. “Ah, my little
Madeline with the brown eyes and sweet smile, it is lonely,
lonely without you!”

“What does she mean? Is she crazy ?” thought Madeline.
“Tam Madeline,” she said, “but I am afraid I do not know
who you are.”

“Ah, no; my little Madeline would remember old Ga-
brielle,” said she. “But you are very like her, my child, the
little Madeline Dumonteau.”

“Why,” said Madeline, “that is my name,—Madeline Du-
monteau Forester.”

“ Qiel !” said the old Gabrielle, covering her face with her
hands, “it is the American child; it is the child of the lost
Madeline!” And the tears flowed down her furrowed cheeks
as she gazed fondly at the surprised little girl, who held out

the money toward her.
I