I should say that Desireè was as severely punished as Amabel and myself. She flatly denied at first having anything to do with the matter—then she said it was I who had opened the door, and that she had tried to prevent me. But the united testimony of Amabel and Dénise prevailed, and she was put in penitence for two or three days and carefully watched afterward for a long time.
[CHAPTER IV.]
TROUBLES.
IT was I think, about a year after our adventures in the caverns, that Dénise died. She was the only pupil left except Amabel, Desireè and myself—Desireè affected great devotion about that time, and Mother Prudentia rejoiced over her as a brand plucked from the burning; but I think Mother Superior considered her a brand that would bear watching—as indeed she was, and one that was destined to kindle a great fire.
Dénise had always been a delicate girl, more so even than Amabel herself. She would never allow that she was ill, however, and used to join in all our sports and latterly made herself very useful in the house and garden. She was one of those people for whom everything will grow, and she loved flowers with an absolute passion. But by and by, she began to grow thin and to have a very little cough. She had a lovely complexion which seemed to grow more beautiful day by day, and her eyes were brighter than ever. We noticed that she became rather silent, though she was always cheerful—and we were sometimes inclined to murmur when Mother Prudentia excused her from one duty after another, and Sister Lazarus cooked all sorts of nice things for her, whereas our own table grew plainer all the time.
But at last we found out the truth. Dénise was taken suddenly ill in chapel. She fainted and was carried out by Mother Prudentia. She did not come to her own bed that night, and in the morning Mother told us with solemnity that Dénise would never sleep in that bed again—that she had been taken with bleeding at the lungs and might indeed be considered a dying person.
"If she lives to see the snowdrops come, it will be a wonder!" said the dear Mother, wiping her eyes. "I have long known that death had set his seal on her, but I did not think the end would come so soon. God's will be done."
"Will her friends come to see her, Mother?" I asked.
"She has no friends except those in these walls, child, not a relation alive that I know of!" answered the Mother. Adding in a lower tone—"So much the better for her. It will be all the easier for her to leave this world."