Francesca made no further opposition; and conducting Marie down a small winding staircase, which led to the garden, they soon found themselves in the open air. They had to traverse a portion of the park, after which they entered the forest, on whose branches the hawthorn blossom was just beginning to break, while the first pale gold was peeping forth on the fern. At the rapid and excited pace with which Marie walked, they soon arrived at the churchyard.
"There!" whispered Francesca, pointing to the lowly mound which sheltered the last sleep of the once impassioned and now quiet tenant.
Marie spoke not, but throwing herself on the ground, bowed her head upon the wild flowers. But though her face was hidden, not so were the convulsive sobs which shook her whole frame.
For a time Francesca turned away and wept; all her own sorrow came back fresh upon her heart as she thought how sweet during life would have been that affection so vain and so violent after death!
Marie's tears ceased at length from absolute exhaustion; and allowing Francesca to raise her from the earth, they sat down together beside the grave.
"Do you think he has forgiven me?" said
