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

10 BLIXD A '
tie, which had 'all 'i pon if; and the cross above it
le, to
(if burial within the c; metery
of i "iuse i si i
stated) she had died far from her homo and 1 or own country,
PH. ne and friendless in a foreign land. The superiorted
to the name, and Ihen, with intuitive delicacy, si-,
.t meiery for her, just beneath the shadow of
beautiful myrile, and we took all the rarest flowers of our
garden to plant them on her grave. We did not then know
that she had a mother; but I well remember it waa agreed
among ns to receive her precious remains with all the love and
ren ivnee a mother's heart would have been consoled to offer,
or s' to her child."
Lady Orau more could not speak her thanks just then, but
btforo she left the convent, she jjressed Mother Matilda's
bund to her lips, and besought her, in moving terms, to continue
her kind care of the grave where all her own hopes of
happiness lay buried. Then, with a myrtle branch, which she
had brought from thence in her hand, she left the convent,
leaning, as before, on the arm of the good Francesco.
"And now where does the Signora wish to go?" he asked.
' Hhe is tired, and would she not like to go to her palazzo for
a little repose ? "
"No, no," eaid Lady Oranmore, "I can have no repose
nntil I have embraced my grandchild. Let us seek the old
water-seller at her stall."
"
"Ah, poor Benita ! said Francesco, shaking his head; "it
will go hard with her to looe her darling. I greatly doubt she
will break her old heart. "
"I should be very sorry FO to grieve her," said Lady Oran-
"
more, compassionately. Think you she would come with
me ? I would gladly givo her a home."
" It, is Kind of the Signora to say so; but no I think Beaita
win Id not be happy that way either; she is too old for new
friends and a new country. Better to promise the child shall
sometimes return and visit her. "
" That I can readily do," said Lady Oranmore, sighing, "for
se, as all worldly-minded people do, in the expediency of
the thing. "The happiness of my poor May is no longer
dependent on the religion of her :
child; and, besides, she did
not Agnese to me. I found her for .
surely gives me a right to do ;
myself; and this
and if I do not ;
please
to bring her up a I she will not only lose her cin.nc.i
i
ile, she will even forfeit all right
t ) inherit from me: for the next in suc-
to t! Mie ought
'>ni : al'' and I know him too well to suppose
he will forego his legal -
. any
sense of justice towards
;:sshc contriV'.'d to stifle
her own scruples on tho subject. ;
bv
.-tivr-ly that
'
iier reply
cant one of -
quickening her foot:'
way to tl
Three ,
; da;
knelt for thrf last time before
the altar of tho Blessed Sacrament in her favorite church and
Francesco, stood [ ; she was in tears, for she had that
morning bid adieu to tho l.iuromised to be faithful to Him in the Sacrament of His love,
renew that jwomise now ; give it into the hands and the heart
of the Immaculate Mother, and she will place it for you in the
sacred heart of her Son."
These words of the old man seemed to penetrate Agnese's
she sank on her knees; and said, in a low but earn-
very soul ;
est vo ce :
"I do promise to be faithful to Jesus, even unto death."
"Unto death," repeated Francesco ;
" aye. that is the right
word for the child of martyrs. Be faithful to Jesus unto death,
if you would have Him faithful to you unto life everl:;
Agnese, they may seek to make you desert the religion in
which He alone is to be found ; but believe them not my
child. Never pray in a church where He is not."
"I will not," said ihe child
"
: but how am I to know ?"
With something like inspiration, Francesco answered :
" Ask whether a lamp is burning before the altar. If there
is not, leave the church ;
for Jesus is neither in it nor of it."
" I will, Franc:
" You may have much to go through of trouble and persecution,
my child. But here is a picture ; it is of (lie sacred
hearts of Jesus and Mary, and they are wreathed together by
thorns."
I also have an attraction in the grave of my child, which will
often bring me to revisit this land. "
" Yonder is the orange-grove where we shall find Benita and
her grandchild; and now that the Bignora has found htr own,
may heaven prosper her as she deals rightly imd fairly by the
child whom Providence has so wonderfully restored to h r
care."
Lady Oranmore changed color; her conscience told her she
was neither going to act rightly nor fairly by the child or its
dead mother; for well she knew that mother's heart, and she
felt that May Netterville would rather have Agnese
bequ athed her
little one to tho care of the poorest beggar in the laud than to
'
the guorii amvne who would tamper with her faith.
" "
Hut, what then ! thought Lady Oranmore, seeking her
kissed and placed it in her bosom.
" "
Thorns, Aguese," proceeded Francesco, are rude to tho
touch, but the flowers they guard are always the mos'
often even the most full of i
sweetness. What heart so ]
wb at heart so sweet what heart so sorrowful as the heart of
<
the Virgin Mother of God ? And of her it is written, 'She
'
lily among thorns. Think of this, my child ; and should tho
thorny diadem ever descend upon your brow, receive it
lovingly and thankfully, seeing it will make you resemble
her."
There was so Fad a foreboding in Agnese's heart as she listened
to these words, that, in her fears for the future, she
almost forgot her present sorrow, hardly heard the remaining
words of Francesco, was hardly conscious of his final ber.
tion, although she had fallen on her knees to receive it, hardly
even felt Lady Oranmore embracing her as the child of he
May. She only knew distinctly that she was leavin
resus dwelt upon every altar; an.l, sinking back in :i
corner of the carriage, and burying her h< ,-k of
Perletta, the little ispouse of the Blessed Sacrament murmured
tliron;:h her tears :
! that
I'li !
the dove would descend and give Him to my
: '