"They seem to be always ringing," she said to herself, as she lightly
touched the roses. "It must be a Saint's Day--where's Denzil? Ah, there
he is in the garden! I'll ask him."
Truth is, she was deceiving herself. She wanted to talk with Denzil
about all that had happened of late, and he seemed, somehow, to avoid
her. Perhaps he feared she had given her promise to Tarboe who had, as
Denzil knew, spent an hour with her the night before. As this came to
Denzil's brain, he felt a shiver go through him. Just then he heard
Junia's footsteps, and saw her coming towards him.
"Why are the bells ringing so much, Denzil? Is it a Saint's Day?" she
asked.
He took off his hat. "Yes, ma'm'selle, it is a Saint's Day," and he
named it. "There were lots of neighbours at early Mass, and some have
gone to the Church of St. Anne de Beaupre at Beaupre, them that's got
sickness."
"Yes, Beaupre is as good as Lourdes, I'm sure. Why didn't you go,
Denzil?"
"Why should I go, ma'm'selle--I ain't sick--ah, bah!"
"I thought you were. You've been in low spirits ever since our election,
Denzil."
"Nothing strange in that, ma'm'selle. I've been thinking of him that's
gone."
"You mean Monsieur Barouche, eh?"
"Not of M'sieu' Barouche, but of the father to the man that beat M'sieu'
Barouche."
"Why should you be thinking so much of John Grier these days?"
"Isn't it the right time? His son that he threw off without a penny has
proved himself as big a man as his father--ah, surelee! M'sieu' left
behind him a will that gave all he had to a stranger.
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