Fabiola : or, The church of the catacombs - Digital Repository Services

npt, :i fe-.v words which had been dropped by
jut. and also his absence, his oddities, and the uild, anx
.it" his eyes at times, Denisr liad easily conic to
onclualon that the- name of f'lili/, which she had heard applied
to liini, meant idiot, and that the poor young- man. was
really hall' wilted. Still she had her doubts; these doubts led
seek for opportunities of conversing with him, and grad-
uallv her opinion on this point was shaken, and her curiosity
ly .stimulated. Now and then George said things which
ant inisheil her by their originality and depth of thought, but he
; kept up a conversation. He generally sat in a corner of
the room where he could watch her unobserved, but hardly an-
I her questions or seemed to attend to what she said, un-
less they happened for a moment to be alone together, and then
lie was so agitated that he sometimes said incoherent tilings.
She felt very sorry for him and had suspicion that his relatives
diogetlier mistaken about this young man; but she did
not venture with any of them to approach the subject. There
s< -em :(! a sort of tacit agreement that in her presence George was
not to be taken notice of and they never mentioned him any more
than if he had not existed. He did not seem conscious of this
sort of moral ostracism, and went on i-adiug much the same
life as usual, sitting sometimes by his mother's couch, gentle,
silent, and abstracted, only he remained more at home, and was
often on the terrace whence he could see into the drawing-room
where Denise spent part of the mornings busy with Church
work. She had undertaken to make the altar linen for the little
chapel which was to be used for mass as soon as the arrangements
with the bishop were concluded. When she read aloud,
often did, to Madame de Vedelles, he stood hid behind
the open window, listening.
.Meanwhile the Countess recovered rapidly, and Denise, in
spile of her entreaties that she would prolong her stay, fixed the
day for her departure.
" 13ut you will return to the opening of the chapel?"
" Perhaps, dear friend," Denise answered; "but I can make
no promise."
As she looked up from her work, she saw George's eyes fixed
upon her with an expression which startled her. It was one of
entreaty, of deep sadness, of pathetic meaning.
"Do tell my mother that you will come back," he said in
a low
"
voice. I have made-a vow to our lady of La Garde to do
for you whatever you ask me if you will promise to come back
for the opening of our chapel."
" What a rash vow! " Denise said, with a smile.
" Very rash, he said; " for I should keep it, whatever it was."
Denise thought a moment, and revolved in her mind the hold
which that singular promise might some day give her over that
singular youth, whom she could not help feeling a deep interest
in. and then she said gaily: " Well, if I can, I will."
" I will means nothing," Madame de Vedelles said, laughing,
" with, the proviso of if lean."
"Would you have me promise to do something impossible?"
"Yes," George eagerly said. "I -want you to do something
impossible." He finished the sentence only in thought, and
mentally added, " And that would be to care for me."
Denise was going away. She had been singing to the Count,
for the last time, his favorite song Al pie d'un Salice. And then,
the carriage being announced, she kissed the Countess, and was
il to the door by M. de Vedelles and Jacques. George
was nowhere to be seen.
"How like him," the Count exclaimed, " not to be hereto
take leave of Mdlle. de la Pinede." Then he thanked Denise
for all she had done for his wife, and handed her into the car-
vith a strong hope in his mind that she would be one day
his daughter-ill law.
The rali-.i-lic drove away. Where the while was George?
Climbing up the Sugarloaf hill, whence he could see for miles,
amidst clouds of dust, that vehicle rolling along the road to
Touion.
The Count g^nced at his eldest son, and saw that he looked
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