132 MADELINE.

Virot, and every one was very kind. I had no trouble,
mamma. Dearest mamma, you will go to Auvers for the
sake of old Gabrielle, and for my sake, my own mamma?”

“ Yes, little one, mamma will go, for her love of you and

of her dear old nurse.”
_ A trembling old woman sat in her room in the lonely
old chateau. Her proud heart yearned for the darling of her
life, her daughter, whom she deemed lost to her forever. She
remembered—ah, how well!—the touch of baby hands, the
caressing voice of childhood calling, “Maman ! chére maman !”
she remembered, too, the tears her darling had shed that day
when she sent her away, unforgiven, to her American home.
She could almost fancy now that there were childish footsteps
again upon the stair, that there was again a voice calling,
“Mamma! dear mamma!” The spring sunshine which
opened the hearts of the flowers turned the icy waters again
to trickling streams, and down the cheeks of the lonely old
woman the tears slowly ran.

Hark! What is that? Is she dreaming? Surely, surely
itisadream. “Maman! chére maman !”

In the door-way she stands, her little one, her Madeline;
the same brown eyes, the same tender voice. With a cry the
mother holds out her arms: “ Madeline, my little one! my
baby! my one love!” And the arms of the two mothers were
around each other, and around the little girl, while old Gabrielle
crept away to weep glad tears before the cross of Auvers.