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

quiet stillness of tho olive nnd oratirre proves through which ho
walked on liis way to llic chateau. During ihc hour
in tlic coupe of the diligence In- had meditated on liis conversation
with S.r in- DenKe, and marveled at the change which he
fill had conic over him. lie had so often indulged in walking;
dreams, of which she had liccii tlic ol'jcel, that he could hardly
realize having actually seen and spoken to her, looked in her
fa -e, and listened to her voice with so little emotion. What had
!>. /nine of that passion which still, a few hours ago. had M-emed
so strong? Ho hardly* liked to acknowledge to himself the changes
whiuh he could not but feel had taken place in the nature of his
feelings It was a relief to have seen her, and not to have
{.rounds for what she said; and if so. did not the whole position
of affairs change between him and Rose?
As the glorious sun of the south rose higher and higher in
the horizon, and Nature seemed to hail its beams, so did a feeling
of unwonted warmth and joy expand in a heart that had
l/i 'ii embittered into hardness, and clouded with dark shadows.
Suppose she did love him, that pretty little Rose; suppose she
had a heart and mind capable of corresponding with the deeper
thoughts and aspirations which had been struggling into life in
his own soul since Denise's vocation and Toinette's death-bed
hud roused its latent faith, would not happiness be possible? was
not light breaking on the future, which had hitherto seemed so
bopcli
Such were George's thoughts as he approached La Pinede.
The gate was unlocked, and he walked up the avenue at a rapid
pace and with an earnest hope that poor old Vincent would still
be alive and conscious of his arrival.
The door of the house w r as also open; he walked into the hall,
and then looked into the drawing-room. The sight which met
his eyes took him by surprise. On his mother's sofa near the
chimney, Rose, in her walking dress, was lying asleep, looking
like a beautiful child, with her fair hair about her face, and her
dark eye-lashes wet with tears. Her head was resting on one of
her small hands, and the other was laid on an open book by her
side.
George approached *her with a beating heart, and, treading as
softly as he could, he gazed at the lovely sleeping face with irrepressible
emotion.
" And does she love me? " he said to himself.
Oh, my God." he murmured, kneeling down by the couch;
"let it be so," and tears streamed down his face. His eyes fell
on the open book. It was the life of St. Elizabeth of Hungary,
and the little hand upon it was placed on the lines he had written
on the margin of one of the pages.
How much was rcvwaled by the choice ai.d the position of that
felt it; and an irrc-
liowu aud kiss the hand of his young wife. Rose opened her
THE XOTAHY'S DM:',! in Eli. 31
irvl when she saw George's faceclo?.'
nil. bed those lovely blue eve,, and said, " It is a dl
turned her head on the pillow as if she wished to go to asleep
again.
"Sleep on, dear Rose," he whispered; "I shall come back
when I have seen Vincent."
The words, though breathed so low that he thought she could
hardly have heard them, made her start up on the couch, and
looking him in
said
the face she stared at him a moment, and then
"
Wait wait; I must tell you I must speak to you first be-
grudged her to God and the poor, but the very relief of this
change seemed to leave a void behind it. He had often called
her in his solitary musings his Beatrice, and compared her to the
heavenly object of Dante's poetic worship. lie tried to reawaken
in himself this vision but no, he could not recall it such ns ho
had so often conjured it up in the shades of night, or amidst the
sunshiny hills, or on the solitary sea shore.
Instead of it he saw the image of another Dcnise, one beautiful
indeed and lovable as ever, but unlike the ideal Demse of
aking dreams. She walked this earth doing good, that
and lovely Sister of Charity. She carried dirty children in
her arms, joked and laughed, and moreover she had laughed at
him, George do Vedelles, and scolded him, and held cheap his
antic plans of heroic self-devotion
This all told on his feelings: she knew what she was about,
that artful Sceur Denise, and she had produced the very effect
which she had intended. Then those last few words she had said,
that secret she had let out Had it not also done its work? did
they not occur and re-occur to George's mind during that night
which seemed so long in the rumbling vehicle, and did they not
liaun; him yet more as he walked in the dawning light of morn
up the hills fore you go upstairs."
"Am I too late? Oh, poor old Vincent! Is he d'
And as Rose did not answer, but took his hand in hers, and
he felt her hot tears falling upon them, he knew it was so, and
sobbed like a child.
'
leading to La Pinede?
" "
Your wife loves you! Could that be possible? lie had so
much faith in Denise that he could not doubt that she had
'
George, dear George," she said, still holding his hand in her?,
"
be comforted; he died so peacefully just after receiving Holy
Communion; M. le Cure gave him the last absolution and blessing;
the dear old man said to me, 'You will tell M. George that
"
I have had the last sacraments, and ask him to pray for me.'
"
Oh, you good little angel," George exclaimed; "you were
with him, then, and he aid not die uncomforted?"
"
Till I arrived he would not listen to M. le Cure, and kept
calling for you. But it seemed to calm him when I came and
spoke of you. He wanted to send you a message."
'What message was it?"
ftose colored deeply, turned her head away, and was silent.
"
I cannot tell you now; another time, perhaps."
"
I guess what it was,'' George said gently, taking her hand in
"
his, and miking her turn towards him. Was it to tell me that
we are to love one another? "
Rose blushed, and George kissed her for the first time; then,
taking her hand, he said
'
Let us go up together, my wife, and pray by the side of our
dear old friend, and promise God that we shall do what he
wished. Shall we not love each other, Rose, and together serve
God?"
" Like the good Duke Louis and his dear St. Elizabeth, '
Rose
said, pointing to the volume on the sofa.
George smiled through his tears, and they went up together to
the room whore old Vincent's body was laid out, with a crucifix
on his breast, and fresh flowers, gathered by Rose, at his feet.
There they renewed their marriage vows, aud prayed a long time
side by side.
It was five o'clock in the morning when they came down stairs
and went out on ttte terrace, where the birds were singing, and
the gentle morning breeze stirred the branches of the acacias.
One of the maid-servants, who had found out George's arrival,
and seen him from the kitchen crossing the hall, asked if they
would have coffee under the trees, and something to eat, an offer
which they gladly accepted, for the fatigues and emotions of the
last few hours had rather exhausted them The meal was a
silent one. Their hearts were too full for speech hut how dif-
ferent was that silence from that of their meals at Belbousquet.
Now and then their eyes met, and then on Rose's cheeks which.
were paler than usual, a deep color suddenly rose, and made her
look prettier than ever.
Ho could hnrdly believe she was the same girl ho once thought
BO uninteresting, and in truth never had a greater change perhaps
taken place in so short a time than the last few weeks had
wrought in his young wife.
They had awakened in her new feelings of a double sort,
strong religious impressions, and a human affection, pure, and
hallowed by a sacred tie. The light of faith had shown on her
soul like a sunbeam, and a timid love for her husband had arisen
simultaneously No wonder that her countenance was transfigured,
no wonder that the commonplace preltincssof a thought-
1 had become womanly beauty of a higher order. Suffer
ini had paled her cheek, and she had grown thinner, but it had
given a tenderness t.i her soft. eyes, and a sweetness to her smile.
which touched and captivated George. As to Rose, it was not