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But there is our good Colonel Gilbert. You forget him." "He would have made a good priest," said mademoiselle, bluntly, and the abbe laughed aloud. "Ah! but you amuse me, mademoiselle. You amuse me enormously." And he leant back to laugh at his ease. "Yes, I came on purpose to amuse you. I came to tell you that Denise Lange has sold Perucca to Colonel Gilbert."
She perceived in him a very exquisite gentleman, and although the acquaintance was but one hour old, counted him a friend. Denise Ryland was already quite at home in the Cumberly household, and she insisted that Dr. Cumberly would be deeply mortified should M. Gaston take his departure without making his acquaintance. Cumberly.
"You were going to the Mairie, mesdemoiselles, when I arrived. Take my advice, and do not go there. Go to the abbe if you like as a man, not as a priest and come to me whenever you desire a service, but to no one else in Corsica." Denise turned as if she were going to make an exception to this sweeping restriction, but she checked herself and said nothing.
Theirs was, moreover, that sudden gaiety which comes from re-action. The contrast of their present surroundings to that little hospital in a church within cannon-sound of Sedan the quiet of this country house, the baroness, Denise herself young and grave were sufficient to chase away the horror of the past weeks.
But she looked at it curiously, and glanced towards Mademoiselle Brun before she opened it. It was, perhaps, characteristic of the little old schoolmistress to show no interest whatever. And yet to her it probably seemed an age before Denise came towards her, carrying the letter in her outstretched hand. "At first," said the girl, "I thought it was a joke a trick of one of the girls.
He kisses the red, tremulous lips, not with a man's passionate fervor, but he feels them quiver beneath his, and he sees a pale pink tint creep up to the brow. She is very sweet, and she is his, not his ward, but his wife. "I hope we shall be happy," he says. "I shall try to do everything " "You have been so good, so kind. Denise worships you," she says, simply.
Then, with a sudden accession of memory, she continues, "I believe it is the gentleman who has been to see papa." "Mr. Grandon!" Denise says in amaze. "Yes. Your young mistress has saved my little girl from what might have been a sad accident." And he stands Cecil on the speckless floor. Miss St. Vincent throws off her hat.
"Nothing in the world, mademoiselle, is beyond your grasp, except" he paused, and looked round him "except a spade, perhaps, and that is what this garden wants." They were very grave about it, and sat down on a rough seat built by Mattei Perucca, who had come there in the hot weather. "Then what is to be done?" said Denise, simply.
Denise would call it a sin, for she thinks every word and act of Mr. Grandon's exactly right. Then, somehow, she must be wrong. Are the books and poems all wrong? She prays to be kept from all sin, not to desire or covet what may not be meant for her. Oh, what a long, long evening! Floyd Grandon is a guest at Madame Lepelletier's table.
She is half Burmese, I believe, and a native of Moulmein." "Most EXTRAORDINARY creature!" muttered Denise Ryland, focussing upon the Eurasian her gold rimmed glasses "MOST extraordinary." She glanced around at the company in general. "I really begin to feel... more and more as though I were... in a private lunatic... asylum.
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