. Little Saint Elizabeth and other stories / by Frsnces Hodgson Burnett ; illustrated by Reginald B. Birch. m in so gentle a voice, thatthey were in ecstasies. They used to talk her over, tell sto-ries about her when they were playing together afterwards. The little Mademoiselle, they said, she is a child have heard them say so. Sometimes there is a little lightround her head. One day her little white robe will begin toshine too, and her lonor sleeves will be wino;s, and she willspread them and ascend through the blue sky to will see if it is not so. So, in this secluded w
. Little Saint Elizabeth and other stories / by Frsnces Hodgson Burnett ; illustrated by Reginald B. Birch. m in so gentle a voice, thatthey were in ecstasies. They used to talk her over, tell sto-ries about her when they were playing together afterwards. The little Mademoiselle, they said, she is a child have heard them say so. Sometimes there is a little lightround her head. One day her little white robe will begin toshine too, and her lonor sleeves will be wino;s, and she willspread them and ascend through the blue sky to will see if it is not so. So, in this secluded world in the gray old cJiAtcaii, with nocompanion but her aunt, with no occupation but her studiesand her charities, with no thoughts but those of saints andreligious exercises, Elizabeth lived until she was eleven yearsold. Then a great grief befell her. One morning. Made-moiselle de Rochemont did not leave her room at the regularhour. As she never broke a rule she had made for herselfand her household, this occasioned great wonder. Her oldmaid servant waited half an hour—went to her door, and ^ 4\ s. Tllli VILLAGERS DID NOT STAND IN AWE OF HER. LITTLE SAL\T ELIZABETH. 23 took the liberty of listening to hear if she was up and movingabout her room. There was no sound. Old Alice returned,looking quite agitated. Would Mademoiselle Elizabethmind entering to see if all was well ? Mademoiselle her auntmight be in the chapel. Elizabeth went. Her aunt was not in her room. Thenshe must be in the chapel. The child entered the sacred littleplace. The morning sun was streaming in through the stained-glass windows above the altar—a broad ray of mingled brilliantcolors slanted to the stone floor and warmly touched a darkfigure lying there. It was Aunt Clotilde, who had sunk for-ward while kneeling at prayer and had died in the night. That was what the doctors said when they were sent had been dead some hours—she had died of disease ofthe heart, and apparently without any pain
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, bookidlittlesainte, bookyear1890
