But when my young mind busied itself with thoughts of the future, more
and more veiled from me by an impenetrable darkness, my preference was
for a church which should be a little isolated from the noisy world, for
one where the faith of my congregation should ever remain simple, for
one receiving its consecration from a long past of prayers and sincerest
worship.

It would be in the Island of Oleron perhaps!

Yes; there, surrounded upon every side by the memories of my Huguenot
ancestors, I could look forward without dread, indeed with much
contentment, to a life dedicated to the service of the Lord.




CHAPTER XXX.



My brother had arrived at the Delightful Island. His first letter dated
from there was a very long one, it was written on thin paper that had
been stained a light yellow by the sea, for it had been upon its way
four months.

It was a great event in our family, and I still recall that as my father
and mother broke its seal, I sprang joyously up the stairs, two steps
at a time, in my haste to reach the second floor and call my grandmother
and aunts from their rooms.