Chapter V: The Christening

IT was with no common feelings of thankfulness that our little party entered the church of Sternfelden. It was to them as a haven of rest, and they felt more immediately under the protection of the Most High.

So long homeless, they were now in that home from which none could cast them out. So long houseless, they had now entered that house, the doors of which are open to all.

The light, the warmth, the pealing music, all seemed to cheer the weary ones; even the marble pavement felt warm to their feet, benumbed as they were by the snowy paths they had so lately trodden.

They were presently aroused by the entrance of a woman bearing an infant enveloped in a white and flowing mantle, with which she approached the baptismal font, where a priest awaited her.

A lady, evidently of high rank, was already there; she was richly dressed in a robe of black velvet, bordered with ermine, whilst her fine hair, over which a long veil was thrown, was braided with jewels. Two attendants stood behind. The lady was apparently going to stand sponsor for the infant about to be baptised. Gaspard and Katherine watched the ceremony at a respectful distance, but the three boys drew nearer, partly to gaze at the lady, whose appearance and beauty were well calculated to attract their attention, and partly to look at a ceremony they had never before witnessed.

When the priest was ready to receive the infant, the nurse withdrew the mantle in which it had been carefully wrapped to protect it from the severe cold. Had Gaspard and Katherine been nearer, neither the sacred edifice in which they stood, nor the holy service which was going on, would scarce have prevented an exclamation at the sight of the little cap with the silver star which the infant wore!

None, however, seemed to notice it, unless it was that that caused the deadly paleness of the lady, as she raised her eyes to answer for the child.

On the conclusion of the ceremony, the nurse presented the infant to the Countess. It was the Countess de Sternfelden herself who had stood for it, to receive her blessing.

To the astonishment of all present, she exclaimed, in a voice trembling with emotion, "For the love of heaven, tell me where this cap came from?"

All were silent; apparently no one could answer the question.

The priest alone ventured to address the Countess, asking the cause of her agitation.

"Father," she said, as she laid her hand on the cap the infant wore, "this cap belonged to the child we lost; with my own hands I embroidered the silver star, the badge of our house. O God!" she cried, sinking on her knees, "may it lead to the discovery of our lost darling."

The priest gently raised the Countess, looking around as he did so for some one who could give any information respecting the mysterious cap.

The little Francis had now advanced close to the party around the baptismal font, eager with childish curiosity to see the infant just baptised.

He at once recognised the little cap he had been accustomed to look upon with peculiar veneration. His joy at again seeing it overcame his timidity. He exclaimed with delight—

"That cap is mine; I wore it when I was little."

All eyes were now turned on our little Francis. The priest approached him, and taking him kindly by the hand, led him to the Countess.

She gazed for a moment as if in admiration of the face now raised to hers, then said, in a trembling voice—

"Oh! tell me if this cap was really yours; how it came here; who are your parents, and where are they?"

"Yes, yes, lady, the cap is mine; the wife of the wicked steward at Feldsberg took it. She made him take everything we had; we have come all the way from Feldsberg, and my father and mother are here."

"Fetch them, fetch them quickly," said the Countess, "that they may tell me about this child, and this cap. Good father," she added, turning to the priest, "may I not hope to have found my child? Do you not see a likeness to my noble husband?"

The good man feared to encourage hopes which might not be realised, but was spared answering the question by the approach of Gaspard and his wife. The Countess advanced towards them, holding Francis by the hand.

"Tell me, my friend, is this child yours?"

"No, lady," replied Gaspard, "he is only our adopted child."

"But," interrupted Katherine, "he is as dear to us, as if he was our own."

The Countess then pointed to the cap, saying, as she did so—"How came this cap into your possession? He says it was his. I emplore you to tell me all you know about it."

"I will tell you everything, lady," replied Gaspard. He then shortly related how he had found and rescued the boy, how carefully he and his wife had treasured the little cap, of their settling at Feldsberg, and, lastly, of the treatment they had met with in consequence of their refusal to part with the cap. How it came to be where he now saw it he could not tell.

The Countess's tears fell fast during the recital; when it was ended, she turned to one of her women.

"Agatha," said she, "go and fetch the Count and my brother; tell them our child is restored to us." Then, clasping Francis in her arms, she said, as she tenderly embraced him, "I am indeed your mother; God has heard my prayers, and has restored you to me, my child! It was near Metz that you were taken from us. You wore this little cap the day we lost you. Oh! you will try and love us, now you are restored to us."

Then, taking the astonished child by the hand, the Countess approached the altar, and, kneeling on the steps, appeared to be engaged in silent prayer. Gaspard and his wife followed her example at a little distance; their hearts were also overflowing with thankfulness.

On rising from this act of devotion, the Countess turned to the good soldier, saying, as she did so—

"May heaven reward you, and your good wife! I cannot; only say what we can do to show our gratitude."

She was interrupted by the little Francis, who, leading Michael and John to her, said—

"These are my brothers. Do not take them from me?"

"No, no, dear child," replied the Countess, as she took a hand of each. "They shall stay with you, and you will not leave your adopted child?" she added, turning to Gaspard and Katherine.

The Count and Countess de Sternfelden had thus restored to them their lost and only child, the only heir of their noble house, for whom they had so deeply mourned. Our good soldier and his family were as unexpectedly rescued from want and misery, and assured of kindness and protection for the rest of their lives. One more cause of rejoicing was in store for Gaspard. As our happy party were about to leave the church, the Countess's brother advanced towards him.

"Gaspard," said he, as he held out his hand to him, "my old and brave comrade in arms, do you not know me?"

Gaspard at once recognised the young Baron Otto de Helfenstein. "My captain, my noble captain!" he said, "I never thought to see you again; we could never hear anything of you, and feared you were either killed or taken prisoner."

"I was taken prisoner by the French," returned the Baron; "and, when I got my exchange, I joined our army in Spain, and went with it afterwards to Italy. I only returned to my own country two days ago, when I saw my sister for the first time since her loss. I little imagined that the child you so bravely rescued was hers."

The Count interrupted further explanations by proposing that all should go to the castle, where they could, at leisure, hear and relate all that would be deeply interesting to the whole party.

The news had spread rapidly through the village, the inhabitants of which hastened to meet the little procession, and to testify their joy at the happy event. The Count was universally beloved by his dependents, and now received heartfelt congratulations from all on the recovery of his lost child.

On reaching the castle, he gave orders for a day of general rejoicing, in which all classes should join, promising, at the same time, that every year the anniversary of the day on which his son was restored to him should be kept as a holiday amongst his people.

The remainder of the day on which the little Francis was restored to his parents was spent in relating the various events which had led to his loss and recovery.

It appeared that, shortly before the disappearance of the little heir of the house of Sternfelden, a keeper of the Count's had been dismissed for repeated acts of gross misconduct and treachery, which had as often been pardoned by the Count. After his final disgrace, this man had been heard to threaten that he would have his revenge. On the disappearance of the child, this man was suspected, the more so that he was nowhere to be heard of, though every effort was made to trace him, and to obtain some eke that might lead to discovering what had become of the infant. The unhappy and bereaved parents learnt after a while that the wretch had crossed the Rhine, and it was supposed he had joined the French army near Metz.

Hither they followed, in the hope of gaining some tidings of their lost treasure. The search was fruitless; nothing could be heard of either. The unhappy Count and Countess returned heartbroken to their own childless home. On hearing Gaspard's account, it was easy to imagine that the wretch had carried the child with him when he joined the French, that he had been with those who had defended the fort the day it was attacked and taken by the Germans, and had probably met with the fate he so well merited, whilst the little Francis fell into the hands of the brave soldier and his kind-hearted wife.

The Countess learnt from Katherine why they had given their adopted child the name of "Francis," which, by a singular chance, was the name he had received from his own parents.

Little now remained to be told or learnt, save that the "little cap," which had so providentially led to the recovery of the lost child, had been sent by the wife of the steward of Feldsberg to her sister at Sternfelden, as a gift to her firstborn. That which the unfeeling woman had so eagerly coveted, and which she had obtained by such unjustifiable means, may possibly have become a source of trouble instead of gratification to her. She could, it may be supposed, scarcely look at the little cap, so prized by those from whom she had torn it, without some feelings of self-reproach; and may have been glad to have got rid of it, by bestowing it on one wholly unacquainted with its history, and who had, therefore, no scruple in accepting and making use of it. She may have quieted her conscience by thus removing from her sight that which reproached her, but she could not escape the punishment she so well merited; and that which seemed but a trifle was the means of bringing to light the steward's misconduct, as well as his wife's, and the ruin they sought to bring on others, who had never injured them, fell upon themselves.

All was now joy and thankfulness in the Castle of Sternfelden, and our poor wanderers had found the relief and rest they so greatly needed. They were not suppliants, but honoured guests in the Count's castle, with every comfort provided for them, and receiving that respect and regard they so well deserved.

The day following, ere the public rejoicings commenced, the little Francis de Sternfelden entered the apartment in which were Gaspard and Katherine. He had not forgotten that it was Katherine's birthday. Putting his arms round her neck, and kissing her affectionately, he said—

"Dear, good mother, your little Francis has brought you a birthday present." So saying, he put into her hands a paper, which proved to be a deed, giving to Gaspard and his wife a farm on the Count's estate at no great distance front the castle. With tears of grateful joy did the good couple recall the day on which Gaspard had presented the little Francis to his wife, and it was now through him that they received a gift which they looked upon as far beyond their deserts, and which more than repaid them for all their trials and anxieties.

The Count would scarcely receive any thanks; he felt he could never repay all they had done for his child, and that to them, under Providence, he owed his present unlooked-for happiness, and that of the Countess, whose health had seriously suffered from her terrible loss. By another deed, the Count restored to Gaspard his little property at Feldsberg, where he also appointed another steward in the place of one who had so cruelly abused the power entrusted to him.

Gaspard had the satisfaction of offering the little cottage and land at Feldsberg, at a nominal rent, to their kind neighbour, Christine and her son—an offer which was gladly accepted.

Peace and plenty and comfort, greater than any they had ever before enjoyed, were henceforward the portion of the good and brave soldier and his family; and above all, they had the approbation of their own consciences, and could feel that, by their honest endeavours to do what they believed to be right, they had secured the respect and goodwill of all who knew them. They lived to see their two sons grow up, receiving, by the Count's help, such an education as fitted them for respectable situations—Michael hoping one day to obtain that of steward to his patron. They had also the happiness of seeing the young Francis grow up in every way worthy of his high station, whilst he ever treated them with the tenderest regard and affection, which the good Count and Countess afforded him every opportunity of showing.

The history of this good couple may remind our readers of the words of the Psalmist: "Put thou thy trust in the Lord, and be doing good: dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed."