“It is the first time in my life,” said the owner of the den, “that I ever knew a person who had got clear off, come back, after fifteen years, to inquire after his debts. A Christian, I presume, sir?”
“Certainly, by God’s mercy.”
“I thought as much; good morning, sir. I shall be happy to accommodate you at any time, at as reasonable rates as my father Ephraim, now with Abraham. A great fool that for his pains, I must say, begging his pardon,” he added, when the stranger was out of hearing.
With a decided step and a brighter countenance than he had yet displayed, he went straight to the villa on the Nomentan way; and after again paying his devotions in the crypt, but with a lighter heart, he at once addressed the fossor, as if they had never been parted: “Torquatus, can I speak with the Lady Fabiola?”
“Certainly,” answered the other; “come this way.”
Neither alluded, as they went along, to old times, nor to the intermediate history of either. There seemed to be an understanding, instinctive to both, that all the past was to be obliterated before men, as they hoped it was before God. Fabiola had remained at home that and the preceding day, in hopes of the stranger’s return. She was seated in the garden close to a fountain, when Torquatus, pointing to her, retired.
She rose, as she saw the long-expected visitor approach, and an indescribable emotion thrilled through her, when she found herself standing in his presence.
“Madam,” he said, in a tone of deep humility and earnest simplicity. “I should never have presumed to present myself before you, had not an obligation of justice, as well as many of gratitude, obliged me.”
“Orontius,” she replied,—“is this the name by which I must address you?” (he signified his assent) “you can have no obligations towards me, except that which our great Apostle charges on us, that we love one another.”
“I know you feel so. And therefore I would not have pretended, unworthy as I am, to intrude upon you for any lower motive than one of strict duty. I know what gratitude I owe you for the kindness and affection lavished upon one now dearer to me than any sister can be on earth, and how you discharged towards her the offices of love which I had neglected.”