She had not believed it possible that he could be held for trial. But the gladness of a near meeting with him stole upon her anxiety.
As soon as the first greetings were over, he went with her to her own sitting-room, and they remained alone together. For a long time she held his hands and looked into his eyes, while he spoke to her.
'Do not ask me any questions, mother dear,' he said, smiling at her. 'You know that I did not kill the poor man, and no one believes that I did. Do not let them torment me with all sorts of questions. If I could answer them, I should have answered them at once. I cannot.'
Still she did not speak, for Orsino had written and telegraphed every detail, and had again and again spoken of Ippolito's inexplicable silence.
'Mother, trust me, and do not ask me questions,' said the young priest, earnestly.
'Yes,' she said at last. 'I trust you, and I always have. I was not hesitating, my dear, and I shall never ask you anything about it, nor allow anyone else to do so, if I can prevent it. But it has dawned on me—the truth I wanted. I believe I understand.'
A startled look came into Ippolito's eyes, and his hands closed suddenly upon hers. He opened his lips to speak, but could not find wise words, for he believed that she had guessed the truth, by some extraordinary and supernormal process of intuition.
'No,' she said reassuringly, 'do not be afraid. I shall not even tell you what I think, and I shall certainly not tell anyone else. But—' She stopped suddenly.
'But what?' he asked, in the utmost anxiety, searching her eyes.
'Nothing that I need say, my dear boy,' she answered quietly. 'It is better to say nothing about such things when one is not sure. Sit down beside me, and let us be together as we used to be before all this happened.'