“Good-by,” said Eugene, shaking hands with him; “you have been good to me. I thank you”—and here his voice failed him, and he groped blindly for Mrs. Hardy.
When he felt her arms around him, he whispered three words in her ear—the words she had longed to hear, and that he had never given her until now.
“I love you,” he breathed with his eager lips against her cheek; and then he added with a heartbroken sigh, “if I were not a beggar I should have stayed with you; but I am proud”—here he broke off, and without looking at her again, rushed into the car and took his seat.
The curé followed him slowly and cautiously, put in one of his capacious pockets the checks and tickets that the sergeant handed to him; then the conductor shouted, the crowd of people stepped back, and the train moved off.
Eugene remained motionless and silent in his corner of the seat. He did not speak until they reached the Fall River station, and there he contented himself with monosyllabic replies to the curé’s remarks.
Upon arriving on the steamer the curé sauntered wonderingly about, taking in the details of the life on board this floating palace. He would want to describe it accurately upon reaching home, for he knew that the peasants of Châtillon-sur-Loir were capable of taking in accounts of greater wonders than these.
Eugene had gone immediately to bed. After an hour or two the curé followed him. Before turning into his berth for the night, he looked at the one above him. The boy lay with his arm over his face. Probably he had been asleep for some time.
Being tired, and having a mind at peace with himself and the world, the priest slept soundly and happily until shortly after daybreak. Then he got up; and after gazing through his small window at the red ball of the sun, he raised his eyes to the upper berth where he supposed Eugene was still sleeping.
To his surprise and distress the lad was crouched in a corner, his limbs convulsed, his face rigid, and his hands tightly clasped in the bedclothes.
“How now, little one—art thou having a fit?” exclaimed the priest in his own language. “Let me dash some water in thy face. Oh, this is pitiful!”