As to Eugénie, when she entered the presence of the poor woman she went to visit, she could not resist the desire of speaking again of Louis. An instinctive, perhaps superstitious, feeling made her believe, as well as he, that this woman, who was dying in so pious a frame of mind after so heroic a life, could not be mistaken in her opinion. “So pure a soul ought to be able to read clearly the hearts of those around her,” she said to herself.
“Has M. Beauvais been here to-day, Mère Françoise?” she asked.
“Yes, mademoiselle. I am glad you spoke of him. I do not expect to see him again in this world, and was so taken up with a favor I had to ask him that I forgot to express my gratitude for all his kindness to me. Every day he has brought me something new; but that is the least of his benefits. I particularly wished to express my thanks for all the good he has done me by his conversation. Ah! mademoiselle, how I wish you could hear him speak of God, the misery of this world, and the joys of heaven! If I die happy, it is owing to him. Before he came to see me, I was afraid of death. However poor we may be, we cling to life so strongly!... Thanks to him, I now feel I cannot die too soon.... I have told M. le Curé all this, and he made me promise to pray for one who has so successfully come to his aid. When I reach heaven, I shall pray for him and for you, mademoiselle. You have both been so kind to me. Promise to tell him all this.”
This testimony, so spontaneous and heart-felt, from a dying person, with regard to Louis’ goodness and piety, and this union of their names in the expression of her gratitude, produced a profound and lasting impression on the tender, romantic soul of Eugénie. All the way home she dwelt on what had occurred. She began to reproach herself for her suspicions—suspicions now vanished. It was not that she loved Louis, or even had an idea she might love him, but her noble mind had a horror of the injustice she had been guilty of towards an innocent and unfortunate man. “I will repair it,” she said to herself, “by faithfully keeping the promise I made him.”
That very evening, she spoke of Louis to her father and mother, repeating the conversation she had had with him, and expressing a wish to co-operate in the good work he was undertaking. “It is a work in which we cannot refuse our sympathy,” she said, “for its object is to ameliorate the condition of our workmen—a question that has preoccupied us all for a long time.”
Eugénie’s object in this was to induce her parents to express their opinion of Louis. She particularly wished to ascertain Mr. Smithson’s sentiments. He was almost an infallible judge, in his daughter’s estimation, and therefore it was with sincere deference she awaited his reply. It was the first time she had forced him to give his opinion of Louis, or that there had ever been any serious question concerning him in the family circle.
“My child,” said Mr. Smithson, “M. Louis means well, I think. He seems to be a considerate person, or at least tries to be. I approve of your wish to aid him in collecting a library; but, if he proposes your joining him in any other benevolent enterprise, you must consult me before coming to any decision. This young man, I say, has good qualities, but he is a little enthusiastic. His ardor just now needs moderating; after a while, it may be necessary to revive it. Let him go on. We will aid him when we can be of service, but must be a little on our guard.”
The oracle had spoken. Eugénie reflected on what had been said. It was evident that Louis inspired her father with some distrust. Mr. Smithson, according to his habit, left his wife and daughter at an early hour to work in his office.
CHAPTER XV.
A QUESTION.