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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Where Deep Seas Moan, by E. Gallienne-Robin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Where Deep Seas Moan
+
+Author: E. Gallienne-Robin
+
+Release Date: November 24, 2008 [EBook #27324]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE DEEP SEAS MOAN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven Gibbs, Karen Dalrymple, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  WHERE
+  DEEP SEAS
+  MOAN.
+
+
+  BY
+  E. GALLIENNE-ROBIN
+
+
+  GUERNSEY:
+  FREDERICK CLARKE.
+  Printer and Publisher.
+
+
+  MCMVII.
+
+
+
+
+"Where Deep Seas Moan."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The autumn wind blew in great gusts over the rocky island of
+Guernsey, and in the country parishes rushed up hill and down dale,
+leaving not a lane undisturbed by its vagaries. It rattled the
+leafless trees which grew at the back of Colomberie Farm, whose deep
+brown-thatched roof rested against the lichened red tiles of the
+barn adjoining. Surrounded on all sides by green fields outside its
+charming garden, Colomberie looked the picture of comfort; and its
+cheery interior laughed the wind to scorn as the curtains were drawn
+across the kitchen window, and the _crâsset_ was lit at the side of
+the wide hearth. But the wind had its revenge, for it blew across
+the country roads pretty young Blaisette, the daughter of
+Colomberie, who was going out to spend the evening; and who
+struggled with all her healthy vigour against the impertinent
+buffetting of the bleak north-wester. When she disappeared into a
+sheltered hollow, the wind, hushed and non-plussed for a minute,
+paused to meditate further mischief; then, with regathered rage, it
+tore across country, and boomed, with sullen roar, into a valley
+shut in by brackened and heather-covered hills.
+
+Here, a granite-built house, sheltered under the rocky cliff, had an
+air of stern and unkempt loneliness; and there was something
+sinister about the watermill, whose dingy wheel, green with disuse,
+was close against the side of the building. Yet there was prosperity
+to be read in the large open barn stacked high with corn and hay, in
+the many cows that fed in the meadow below the hill, and in the
+horses that stamped impatiently in the stable.
+
+The master of Orvillière Farm was Dominic Le Mierre, a bachelor, a
+hard worker, and a more than respectable member of the parish of
+Saint Pierre du Bois. It seemed that he did not mind the boisterous
+wind this evening as he ate his supper hurriedly in the gloomy
+kitchen, whose windows shook at every touch of the blast.
+
+Over the hills, and once more across country, the howling wind made
+its way, past the old church of Saint Pierre du Bois, past the lanes
+to Torteval parish, and along the high road to Pleinmont, where it
+had full play over a wide moorland district, dotted with low masses
+of gorze and groups of boulders.
+
+Here, too, was just one little cottage to shake and grip and freeze
+with biting draughts. It stood in a slight hollow on the summit of a
+cliff overlooking Rocquaine Bay. Its mossy thatched roof overhung
+tiny latticed windows, whose panes were golden red from the light of
+the fire of dried sea-weed and furze heaped up on the hearth of
+stone raised above the earthen sanded floor.
+
+Round the fire a group of girls was gathered; for the most part they
+were just homely, pleasant creatures, but two stood out distinctly
+from the rest; one, by reason of her beauty, the other, because of
+her original and perhaps, forbidding, personality. The beautiful
+one, Blaisette Simon, of Colomberie Farm, was small and plump and
+very fair, with cheeks of a rosebud pink and lips full and ripe for
+kisses. The round innocence of her blue eyes looked away all sense
+from the men, so it was said, and she had lovers by the dozen. Added
+to her beauty was the attraction of a very desirable little fortune
+which she had already inherited from her mother, who was dead; and
+by and bye, _Mess_' Simon would leave her the farm and all his
+money, for she was an only child. She was disposed to be friendly
+with Ellenor, again an only child, the one treasure of Jean and
+Marie Cartier, of Les Casquets Cottage.
+
+People wondered what Blaisette saw in the dark scowling girl, who
+was reserved and offhand with people in general; and probably
+Blaisette herself was puzzled as to _why_ she sought Ellenor so
+constantly. The girls were a distinct contrast, not only in
+character, but in appearance.
+
+Ellenor was tall and angular, with a certain nobility and
+haughtiness of carriage inherited from her fisherman father. Her
+sallow skin, sombre grey eyes and heavy mouth, looked the
+personification of night beside the sunny beauty of Blaisette's blue
+eyes and yellow hair. The girl of the cottage was an excellent foil
+to the girl of Colomberie Farm. Did Blaisette realize, all
+unconsciously, the use of this to her as she went forward
+triumphantly in her victorious path as the belle of two parishes?
+
+But to return to the group round the fire.
+
+All at once, by common consent, as it appeared, the girls rose and
+crowded round the entrance. Ellenor lifted the latch, and, flinging
+the door wide open, she stood on the threshold and looked out into
+the inky blackness of the night. The wind howled and moaned as it
+entered the kitchen; and a flash of lightning tore open, for one
+second, the darkness of the sky. After the crash of thunder that
+followed, Blaisette cried in an awestruck voice,
+
+"Surely now, Ellenor, you will not go!"
+
+"Not go!" echoed the girl of the cottage, "not go! but this is the
+very weather to go in! Now, perhaps, you will all believe I fear
+nothing! and if there was need for it I would go bareheaded to Saint
+Peter Port in this deluge!" and she pointed to the sheets of rain
+which swept over the moorland.
+
+Then a small, insignificant voice, coming from a woman who sat in
+the hearth corner, spoke irritably.
+
+"You know, Ellenor, if your father was here, he would not let you
+play such tricks!"
+
+Ellenor faced her mother with rebellion in every feature of her
+face.
+
+"The girls have dared me to go to the Haunted House on this very
+night, and I'll go, mother, if I have to face the devil himself."
+
+Mrs. Cartier sighed.
+
+"Well, you must do as you please, it seems you always do!"
+
+Without further words, Ellenor coiled tighter the thick hair that
+looked too heavy for her small head, stuck through it a dull gold
+pin, and stepped out into the small garden.
+
+"It has stopped raining," she said sarcastically, "so who will go a
+little way, to see I don't cheat, but go, in reality, to the Haunted
+House?"
+
+After a minute's hesitation, two or three of the girls followed her,
+but Blaisette, with a pretty pout, returned to the _jonquière_ by
+the hearth. Ellenor walked rapidly up the steep path to the summit
+of the cliff, then plunged into the darkness of the moorland.
+Winding in and out amongst gorze bushes, she reached at last a large
+patch of grass. She turned round to the girls who were huddling
+close to her.
+
+"There! in two minutes I'll be to the Haunted House. Listen to the
+sea! We're close to the edge of the cliffs. Come, quick, let's run,
+who knows if I can burst open the door, if I won't see the devil. I
+would wish it, for my part! There'd be a chance to tell him what one
+thinks of him."
+
+Her words wandered away into the night, for the girls, with cries of
+horror, had fled as if evil spirits pursued them.
+
+With a mocking laugh, Ellenor hurried on, then gradually she
+slackened her pace. At last, she groped her way forward with
+outstretched hands, for it was horribly dark. Presently she touched
+the rough stone wall of some building and stopped and listened. Not
+a sound but the wild roar of the waves below the cliffs and the
+gradual lulling of the wind. She groped along the wall, till her
+hands fell a little lower, to a different surface. It was a short
+wooden door. She pushed against it, gently, but it did not yield.
+She felt it across and up and down. There was no latch and she could
+find no keyhole. Again she pushed, this time with all her strength.
+Jerking suddenly, the door opened inwards, and Ellenor, leaning
+against it, fell forward over the high threshold into pitch
+darkness. She felt a blinding blow and a sickening pain, and then
+she lost consciousness.
+
+When she came to herself she was first aware of a heavily beamed
+cobwebbed roof, of a dim lantern beside her, of the stifling
+nearness of kegs and bales and boxes, and then of a very familiar
+figure kneeling beside her on one knee.
+
+The man's face that peered into hers was handsome in a heavy
+undeveloped way. Eyes as grey as hers and as sombre scowled from
+underneath dark brows and a dark thatch of hair. His sullen mouth,
+set in a hard angry line, was the finest feature of a clean-shaven
+face.
+
+"You little fool!" he half whispered, "what on earth, or in hell,
+has made you come meddling here, I'd like to know! I've nearly
+killed you!"
+
+With his coarse pocket handkerchief he mopped up the blood that was
+flowing from a cut on her head.
+
+"How did you nearly kill me?" she asked, "what harm have I done?"
+
+"You've come sneaking in here, and in this darkness, and I hit you
+when you banged open the door. It seems you were falling over the
+doorstep. You're pretty pale, my girl, but I believe I know your
+face. Aren't you from Les Casquets?"
+
+"I'm Ellenor Cartier, yes. And you--you're Monsieur Le Mierre, from
+Orvillière."
+
+He scowled and looked for a minute as if he meditated another
+blow--then he swore roundly in the Norman-French that he and all the
+islanders spoke.
+
+"How the devil did you know me in this darkness! You're a witch, it
+seems, and it isn't the first time I've thought it. You are not a
+beauty, my girl. But come, tell me, how did you recognize me?"
+
+"I've seen you to church, to St. Pierre du Bois, but you were all
+dressed up then; and I've seen you driving to the market of a
+Saturday morning sometimes."
+
+He laughed and bent a little closer. Her eyes were like stars as
+they were lifted to his face. And she did not appear to fear him in
+the very least.
+
+"Well, it's a joke, isn't it, the difference between Dominic Le
+Mierre of a Sunday and Dominic Le Mierre in this place, my clothes
+all wet with sea-water. And now, tell me, witch, why do you think
+I'm here, in the Haunted House?"
+
+"I couldn't say, I'm sure."
+
+He was silent, staring hard into the candid, fearless eyes; then
+impulsively he cried,
+
+"I believe I can trust you! But, I warn you, if you let out why I'm
+here, I'll kill you."
+
+"You can trust me. I'd be killed before I'd let out."
+
+A soft shadow darkened the clearness of her eyes: her long eyelashes
+fell before his puzzled stare.
+
+"But why, bah! it appears you're not afraid of me, then! Very well.
+I'll tell you. It is the best way out of the difficulty. But sit up
+against this barrel, and drink a little brandy. I've stopped the
+bleeding in your head with a black enough cobweb."
+
+Ellenor tried to raise herself up, but loss of blood had made her
+giddy, and Dominic put his arm round her and steadied her roughly,
+but not unkindly. Her dark head rested a second against his blue
+jerseyed shoulder, and once more she lifted her eyes to his. With
+brusque and evidently totally unpremeditated passion he kissed her
+red lips.
+
+"There! didn't I say you are a witch! I could laugh at myself for
+this--I, Le Mierre, of one of the oldest families of St. Pierre du
+Bois to be kissing a girl like you, a girl who carries fish to
+market, tramp, tramp, all the way in the rain or in the sun! And,
+moreover, I, Le Mierre, oh, so respectable and fine of a Sunday,
+pulling a long face in my pew, and yet, behold, here I am a
+smuggler, keeping guard over brandy and lace and silks! And why the
+devil did I kiss you, for it isn't that you are a pretty girl or
+enticing, eh?"
+
+The girl trembled and turned away her head.
+
+"Perhaps I am not pretty, but you've kissed me for all that, and
+better still, you've told me your secret. I think it's a mean thing
+to be a smuggler: but I'd die before I'd tell anyone _you_ was a
+smuggler. That I promise you!"
+
+"Good! And why are you ready to promise me so quick? I'm inclined to
+be afraid you'll let out, after all. I've been a fool to trust you."
+
+He grasped her arm roughly and knitting his brows was buried in
+thought again. But she broke in on his silence, with blazing eyes of
+such beauty that he understood why he had kissed her.
+
+"Not a bit of it, Monsieur Le Mierre! A man is not a fool to trust a
+girl who ... likes ... him!"
+
+"But, that's all very well! How is it you like me? You've never
+spoken to me before."
+
+"I've seen you to church; and one can like people without speaking
+to them."
+
+He laughed. "Perhaps _you_ can, but I can't! Well, the job's done
+now, so I suppose I'll have to trust you. Next time you see me to
+church, you won't believe it's me you've really seen here. But you
+must be off--or else the other chaps will catch you. Look here, I'm
+sorry I've made your head bleed! and you'll have to tell a pack of
+lies to explain why there's a cut under your hair. Are you afraid
+to tell lies, eh?"
+
+"Not to keep you safe."
+
+"Well, you're no coward I must say. And now, stop a bit, how much
+money do you expect me to give you to keep a still tongue in your
+head?"
+
+"Money! not a double!"
+
+"Bah, I can't believe it, and if ever you need it to help your
+father and mother, you come to me. But quick, you must go, it seems
+to me I hear somebody coming. There, you're over the step, run,
+quick, it _is_ the men, coming up the cliff!"
+
+When she had disappeared into the darkness, Le Mierre muttered to
+himself, "I'm _ensorcelai_, that's certain, for I've never found out
+what brought the girl here at all!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+It was winter, always a time for enjoyment in the days of old
+Guernsey, when evening after evening, people met together at the
+_Veilles_, to knit and sing and to tell stories of witchcraft and
+weird tales of the sea.
+
+Colomberie Farm was glowing with warmth and light, and swarming with
+company on the evening of the twenty-first of December, for it was
+the special festival of _longue veille_. The spotless wooden table
+in the middle of the sanded floor was piled high with woollen goods
+of every kind, which had been knitted by men and women at former
+_veilles_. The dark blue of "jerseys" and "guernseys" were an
+effective background for stacks of white woollen stockings and
+scarlet caps.
+
+"My good," said Mrs. Cartier, of Les Casquets Cottage, "there's
+never yet bin so many things for the Christmas Eve market! It's that
+we must have worked well! What do you say, mesdames?"
+
+A torrent of agreement, poured out in Norman-French, swallowed up
+her small pipe; and Mesdames from all the countryside gathered
+closer round the table to inspect the good work and pack it up for
+transmission to market. Mesdames were comely and rosy, excellent and
+thrifty housewives, delighted at the thought of the gold and silver
+that the warm cosy garments represented.
+
+The men of the company stood idly by, flirting and smoking and
+provoking giggles and pretty foolish speeches from the girls, who
+queened it openly on these occasions. Even the elderly men, seated
+on wooden stools in the deep recess of the wide chimney, turned
+their withered nut-cracker faces from the glow of the _vraicq_ fire,
+to smile leniently on "les jeunes gens."
+
+A few serious groups of born story-tellers and eager listeners sat
+on the floor where the flickering light of the _crâsset_ shadowed
+and then brightened the healthy beauty of the girls and the warm tan
+of fishermen's faces. Everybody was happy, and gaiety and laughter
+held the night.
+
+But to one girl, joy meant so much that she had crept away with it
+to the dark staircase, spiral and stone, that rose from the wide
+entry to the top of the house. She sat on the third step from the
+floor, and from her position she commanded a full view of half the
+kitchen. Her eyes, deep and dark with excitement, yet almost
+blinding in their gaze of rapture, rested on the face of Dominic Le
+Mierre who sat on the _jonquière_ in the corner of the hearth. He
+was alone and appeared to be absorbed in watching the group of
+story-tellers under the _crâsset_. His sombre handsome face wore an
+expression of extreme boredom. He had said, a few moments ago to
+Ellenor Cartier, the girl on the stairs, that he detested the
+_veilles_, but that he was bound to be present, as master of
+Orvillière Farm. He had added, moreover, a remark that had flooded
+Ellenor's heart with the joy that had caused her to creep away by
+herself into the darkness.
+
+It was her presence, he assured her, with a stare into her trusting
+eyes, that drew him to Colomberie Farm to-night, otherwise he would
+have been out fishing beyond Pleinmont Point. Dominic had chuckled
+to himself many times during the past months when he reviewed his
+position towards Ellenor. Since the meeting in the Haunted House, he
+had seen her not a few times, and he had rivetted round her a chain
+which linked her closely to himself. He had exerted the masterful
+fascination which was his to bring her completely under his power.
+Love is a stronger motive than even hate. He made Ellenor love him
+that he might be sure she would keep secret his dealings with
+smugglers. He felt absolutely certain that if once she cared for him
+she would be loyal, even to death. Therefore he fanned the flame of
+the liking she had openly avowed into a wide spreading blaze, which
+might burn up her peace and contentment, for all he cared, he said
+to himself, with a derisive laugh.
+
+In spite of scorn and derision, however, he felt an interest in her
+which was quite foreign to his selfish and exploiting nature. With
+admirable perseverance he crushed every rising of this interest and
+stamped it under foot. But it proved strangely unconquerable, and it
+rose again and again, vital and conflicting, to taunt him with its
+indestructibility. He certainly could not have told himself why he
+liked to meet this girl so often on the sly and why he liked to kiss
+her red lips and make her eyes shine into his. But the fact that he
+_did_ like the meetings and _did_ look forward to the kisses, was
+quite a dominant factor in his life. Still, these things were apart:
+ambition, money, reputation were more to the master of Orvillière
+Farm than all the girls in creation. He had not the slightest
+intention of marrying a peasant girl, but he did intend to have a
+rich well-born wife--a pretty one, if possible.
+
+As he sat on the _jonquière_, he watched keenly, in a business-like
+spirit, the gay gestures and pretty dimples of Blaisette Simon, who
+was the most eager listener of the story-telling group. He had often
+thought of her as a possible wife. But she was such a universal
+flirt, that, hitherto, he had received no special encouragement.
+To-night, however, he felt inclined to exert the full power of
+attraction which he was quite capable of appreciating and using. All
+women, whether they avow it or not, love to find their master and
+bend to him; and Dominic was of the very essence of virility.
+Indeed, one outspoken girl of Torteval parish said she would rather
+be beaten by Le Mierre than be kissed by a man all gentleness and
+kindness.
+
+In a few minutes, Blaisette had left the story-tellers and joined
+Dominic on the _jonquière_. She had not the faintest idea how it was
+she had risen to go to him, but his welcome was of the most
+delightful, his voice was tender and deep, his eye spoke eloquently
+of her beauty. Blaisette had never known him in such a compelling
+mood. Her foolish, weak little head was turned; his gross flattery
+was nectar to her greedy vanity. He was generally so taciturn, so
+cold, so aloof. And Blaisette plumed herself on being the cause of
+this wonderful unbending of his. By supper time they had advanced
+into the thick of a serious flirtation: and more than one person
+remarked on the absorbed couple on the _jonquière_.
+
+Of course Ellenor saw it all, at first with unconcern, then with
+growing alarm. The rapture died out of her face, which stiffened
+into tragic lines of misery and jealousy. Every blush and pretty
+gesture of Blaisette's called forth a new expression in the large
+clear eyes of the watcher on the stairs. Hitherto it had not entered
+into her head that Dominic might make her his wife; but, likewise,
+she had never yet pictured a Madame Orvillière who would take up the
+master's time and prevent the stolen meetings that were so dear to
+her. Now, as she watched Dominic's marked attentions to Blaisette,
+as she saw him, more than once, lay his hand on hers, she realized
+the meaning of the scene in the chimney corner. He would marry the
+rich girl. She turned sick and giddy with jealousy. Rising, she
+groped her way into the garden, and, without cloak or hat, she ran
+down the quiet lanes and along the high road to the moorland of
+Pleinmont, where her little home received her with its homely air of
+comfort. She crept up to her attic bedroom, and when her father and
+mother returned home, she would give no account of her sudden
+disappearance from the _veille_.
+
+"I've brought your cloak and hat," whined Mrs. Cartier, "you must be
+mad to go home without them! But, there, one never knows what you
+will do next."
+
+"Leave the girl alone," broke in the father's voice, "she was tired
+out, she had done the best part of the packing up--it was Blaisette
+herself told us that. And, Monsieur Le Mierre, he said you were a
+hard-working girl and would make a good servant, if I'd let you go
+out. He laughed when he said this, did Monsieur, and it's my belief
+he'll marry Blaisette before long. It looks as if they meant to keep
+company. Well, good-night, my girl! I must be off fishing in an
+hour!"
+
+Christmas Day, not in the least typical, dawned over the heights of
+Pleinmont in pale gold and soft grey; and the hours that followed
+were mild and cloudy as those of a day in Spring. The inmates of Les
+Casquets Cottage ate their humble Christmas dinner of a small piece
+of beef and a rough kind of raisin pudding; then Jean and his wife
+composed themselves to the unusual luxury of an afternoon sleep.
+Ellenor was too restless to stay at home. She wandered over the
+cliffs and insensibly she made, at last, for the Haunted House.
+
+She threw herself on the grass at the back of the grim, gaunt
+building, and she tried to collect the miserable, wandering thoughts
+which were forever haunting her--thoughts of Dominic and Blaisette.
+All at once, a musical whistle startled her, and Le Mierre himself
+came up the cliff, a fish basket slung over his shoulder.
+
+"You here, Ellenor!" he cried, sitting down beside her, "on
+Christmas Day and all alone! Where, then, are all your beaux?"
+
+"You know quite well I've got none, and don't want none, Monsieur,"
+she replied sulkily.
+
+"Come, come, do you expect me to believe that of a pretty girl like
+you?"
+
+"Pretty!" she echoed scornfully, "it's your Blaisette Simon that's
+as pretty as a wax doll. It isn't me, Monsieur, with my black
+looks!"
+
+He laughed and put his arm round her. At his touch she trembled and
+a lovely colour rose in her pale face. Then, with slow, and as if
+involuntary, movement, her head nestled against his shoulder.
+
+"That's right!" he said, "now you are a sensible girl. Let's be
+happy while we can. So you call Blaisette _mine_, do you! What a
+foolish Ellenor to be jealous of her. She's quite different from
+you, can't you see that she doesn't set a man's blood on fire like
+you do, witch?"
+
+"That's all very well, Monsieur, but you told father to the _veille_
+that I would make a good servant and he thought perhaps you would
+wish to engage me for when you marry Blaisette, and I saw you with
+her on the _jonquière_!"
+
+"Well, _sorcière_, is it that I must speak only to you? And what if
+I _do_ marry Blaisette?"
+
+With a quick look into his amused eyes, she lifted her head from his
+shoulder and withdrew from his careless embrace. But it was only for
+a moment. In abandonment of grief and devotion she flung herself
+against his breast.
+
+"I don't care," she sobbed, "if you marry Blaisette! I don't care
+if, even, I come to be your servant, but, for the sake of God, love
+me the best."
+
+He smiled triumphantly over her hidden face and lightly kissed her
+dark hair.
+
+"Good, there you shew sense! But, tell me, you can't be really
+jealous if you're willing for me to marry Blaisette? Why, you might
+even let out about what goes on in this Haunted House, just to vex
+me. And how do I know you won't do it, even yet?"
+
+"I'd die first!" she cried, looking up proudly.
+
+"That's settled then! And now let me tell you a secret, just to
+reward you. I am not even thinking of marriage with Blaisette Simon.
+Come, how many kisses will you give me for that piece of news?"
+
+So heaven opened for Ellenor, and the rest of Christmas Day was
+spent in going over and over again every word he had said to her
+behind the Haunted House. She was unusually amiable at home, and her
+father, who was devoted to her, rejoiced in the sunshine of her
+ready smiles and bright ways.
+
+This mood lasted but a few days. On New Year's Day she went to
+Colomberie Farm to help in the kitchen, for there was much to be
+done in the way of preparing refreshments for the constant string of
+guests who came to bring greetings and presents to the pretty
+Blaisette, the rich, desirable heiress.
+
+Ellenor's duty was to take fresh relays of cake and wine into the
+best parlour: and towards the end of the afternoon, when it was
+dusk, and the lamps were not yet lit, she entered the room suddenly,
+intent on business. There were only two people seated by the fire.
+One was Blaisette, a vision of dainty prettiness in a new blue gown;
+the other was Dominic Le Mierre.
+
+He held the girl's hand in his. He was bending forward to kiss her
+as Ellenor entered the room. From the heaven of the last few days,
+she fell into a hell of jealousy and bitter hatred of Blaisette. At
+once she turned and fled from the room. It was all very well to
+speak of his marriage with another girl, when she herself was in his
+arms. It was another thing to see him kiss the pink and white face
+of her rival. She could not bear it. Once more she rushed from
+Colomberie Farm in bitter despair and unreasoning grief.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+It was Spring. Dominic Le Mierre still played a double game and
+there was no talk of an engagement between Blaisette and himself. He
+met Ellenor secretly; and was often at Colomberie Farm, where he was
+a welcome visitor, not only to the daughter, but to the father, who
+valued the advice and skill of the master of Orvillière in all
+things pertaining to the management of the farm. Now, in the
+springtime, the countryside was stirring into new life, and masters
+and men alike were full of enthusiasm over the tilling of the soil
+and the expectation of good crops to come. Monsieur Le Mierre had
+sent round word to his neighbours that on a certain day in March he
+would hold the working festival of _La Grand' Querrue_, or _The
+Grand Plough_. That meant the combination of these neighbours into a
+band of all day workers, for the purpose of deeply trenching a
+certain field in preparation for the cultivation of parsnips. The
+large expensive plough to be used was the joint property of Le
+Mierre and his richer neighbours, and it was, naturally, available
+for each in turn. Every master brought his men and his horses and
+bullocks to the fray, and at seven o'clock in the morning the work
+and jollity began.
+
+The field to be ploughed lay at the base of cliffs covered with the
+tender grass and golden gorze bushes of early Spring. Deep purple
+scentless violets clustered in sheltered nooks, where granite,
+ivy-covered boulders rose grimly along the slopes and little ravines
+of the cliffs. Primroses, many of them milk white, starred the
+grass; and wild blue hyacinths grew tall and graceful in damp
+patches shaded by stunted trees. But the special field in question
+lay bare to the sky, surrounded by low hedges, and of a rich red
+brown colour.
+
+Six bullocks and sixteen horses drew the large plough, and Dominic
+Le Mierre was captain of the team. He looked his very best, for the
+work drew out the strength and will of the man. The pose of his
+body, the skill of his movements, the carriage of his head, marked
+him as the typical worker of the fields, a very king of farmers. His
+energy and vitality inspired the other men, and no one could believe
+it was time for _mi-matin_ when ten o'clock chimed out from the
+church behind the cliffs. But when the spell of work was broken, the
+men found they were very hungry, and fell upon the bread and butter,
+cheese and strong coffee, with tremendous appetites. These good
+things were brought down in large baskets from Orvillière; and the
+men scattered in little groups as they ate and drank, discussed
+farming, or looked out over the wide sea just beyond the field, and
+wondered if fishing would pay this year.
+
+Suddenly Le Mierre gave the call for a return to work, and again the
+glorious ploughing went forward till noon. Then the cattle were
+unharnessed and allowed to feed, two men being left in charge of
+them. The rest of the workers climbed the hill to Orvillière, where
+a substantial dinner was provided. There was cabbage soup, a
+_pâlette_ or big boiled ham, a piece of pork, a round of beef and
+other things loved of Guernseymen, not forgetting copious draughts
+of island cider. Two o'clock saw the men once more at the ploughing,
+and the afternoon dragged a little till four o'clock, when the
+housekeeper and the maids from Orvillière appeared, bringing each
+her large basket of _mirelevée_. This meant tea and currant cake,
+and probably cider. A halt was called. Once more the men grouped
+themselves into unconscious picturesquesness, and ate and drank to
+their fill. But at this _al fresco_ meal a delightful air of
+familiarity and coquetry made itself felt by the presence of the
+rosy maidens from Orvillière; above all by the appearance of
+Blaisette Simon, who brought down a special batch of cakes, made and
+cooked by herself. Le Mierre was at her side at once and a pretty
+flirtation sprang up, for the master was in an excellent temper and
+the girl was marvellously taken by the handsome power and devilry of
+the captain of the work. Never had she seen him look half so well,
+she said to herself. Ah, if he proposed, she would not feel inclined
+to refuse him! She leant over the hedge and looked out to sea, and
+he stood close beside her, his blue jerseyed shoulder brushing the
+stray gold of her hair. Lovers they seemed, even if lovers in
+reality they were not.
+
+So thought Ellenor Cartier as she watched them from the little cove
+below the field. She stood, a solitary figure against the sky, on
+the rough arm of a little harbour where she waited for the return of
+her father from fishing. She had been watching for the red sail of
+his boat since three o'clock, but she had turned many times to send
+hungry, lingering looks at the field, above all at the prominent
+figure of Le Mierre. When Blaisette came, in the glory of a new gown
+and a pink sunbonnet, it seemed to Ellenor that life was harder than
+she could bear, for she was shut out from the _Grand Plough_. Her
+father had not been asked to help, he was too much beneath the rank
+of Le Mierre; therefore no excuse could be framed to admit her into
+the enchanted field. Jealousy sharpened her eyesight, she thought
+she could see the white hand of Blaisette slip through Dominic's
+arm. It was too much. She turned away and looked out to sea, blinded
+by tears.
+
+The red sail of Cartier's boat fluttered in the breeze that blew
+from the land, and with swift grace the little craft came into
+harbour. Ellenor dashed the tears from her eyes and smiled down at
+the men in the boat as they fastened it to a hook in the breakwater
+and climbed up beside her. Her father was her friend, her refuge,
+her comfort; and something of his influence over her seemed to
+belong to the other man, his mate. Perrin Corbet was tall and
+angular, without the slightest pretention to good looks, but with a
+fund of good nature and humour in his grey eyes, and when he smiled
+back at Ellenor a shy tenderness glorified his plain face into
+something far beyond mere beauty of feature.
+
+The men and Ellenor crossed the sandy cove and climbed the winding
+cliff path which led directly past the _Grand Plough_. Jean and
+Perrin lingered to watch the splendid action of Le Mierre, as, once
+more, he led the line of animals: but Ellenor walked on and never
+even glanced to see if Blaisette were still in the field. She did
+not wait for the men and kept a little ahead of them as she mounted
+the cliff to the moorland above. Her head was bent, her arms hung
+down listlessly.
+
+Suddenly, round a bend in the path, a number of children appeared in
+evident high glee. They stopped when they reached the men and
+explained, all speaking at once, that they were going to see _La
+Grand' Querrue_. Perrin, who loved children, listened patiently to
+the shrill little voices and patted the innocent faces.
+
+"But we can't go on yet!" exclaimed the eldest of the group, "we are
+waiting for little Marie, she stopped to tie up her shoe. Ah, there
+she is!"
+
+Perrin looked up and saw that Ellenor had lifted little Marie in her
+arms and was bringing her to the other children. The golden haired
+baby nestled her head against the girl's breast: and her chubby arm
+was thrown round Ellenor's neck. The two made a sweet picture. The
+girl's sombre face was softened by contrast with the lovely little
+head pressed confidingly against her. The eternal wonder of mother
+and child is seen whenever a woman has a baby in her arms, and
+though Perrin could not have explained the thrill that swept over
+him, he knew in his heart that the sight of the two together moved
+him to an intense longing, an intense reverence. In his nature was
+none of the coarse fibre which so often marks the men whose lives
+are all action, danger and privation. When Ellenor kissed little
+Marie and put her down with a gentleness unusual to herself,
+Perrin's thoughts rang of what she would be as a mother. His heart
+throbbed suddenly as he dared to drag to light a long-hidden
+secret--kept hitherto from himself. He loved her. He had loved her
+from childhood, when he, a big clumsy boy, had taken her part, and
+fought her battles, at the parish school. He wanted her for his
+wife. He wanted her for the mother of his children.
+
+Ah, what a picture rose before him as his thoughts painted rapidly!
+A little cottage on the moorland; a rose red _vraic_ fire; Ellenor
+seated in a low chair, beside her a cradle; on her lap, a little
+baby, with wide sad eyes like hers. He saw himself enter the cottage
+and fling his net into a corner; he felt her kiss on his lips,
+and....
+
+"Wake up, Corbet! Not a word have you spoken since we left those
+children--and what with you as glum as a fish and Ellenor gone in
+front, its precious dull for me!"
+
+Cartier slapped his friend on the back, and Perrin exerted himself
+to chat and laugh. Then, all at once, Jean broke into the talk of
+parish gossip.
+
+"Look here, _mon gars_, I'm not happy about Ellenor. She is unhappy,
+worse and worse each day; and so bad tempered. You know she never
+gets on with her mother, poor girl; but now, even at me she snaps,
+and, God knows, I love her well, and she loves me."
+
+Perrin was silent.
+
+"Does she treat you properly?" went on Cartier.
+
+"Well, to tell you the truth, she is not very polite at times, but I
+would not blame her. She always looks so sad, and, as you say, worse
+than ever just now. Perhaps she's _ensorchelai_, who can say!"
+
+"I've thought of that--perhaps I'll get her to tell me. Well, this
+is your way--so à bientôt, Perrin, à bientôt!"
+
+Corbet made his way to his home, a cottage not far from the
+outskirts of the moorland at whose edge stood the Haunted House. He
+lived with his mother, a widow and an invalid. She hardly ever left
+the cottage, but she made it a palace of happiness to her son. Her
+lovely placid old face brooded over his every want and his every
+look. She lived the life of a saint and had brought up her son to
+fear God and none else. Perrin's religious life was a deep reality
+to him: he never spoke of it, but in it he moved, at home, in the
+conscious joy of the presence of God.
+
+Every night, when his mother had gone to bed in her tiny attic, he
+knelt long beside the _jonquière_ in the corner of the hearth: and
+every night he prayed for Ellenor, naming her softly after the
+beloved word "mother."
+
+But this night. _Ellenor_ was first on his lips. Why was she
+unhappy? Why was she so unkind to the father she loved? Ah, if one
+could see right through her dark eyes into her sorrowful heart, one
+might have a chance of comforting her! But, as it was, one felt
+useless and blundering.
+
+His head bent lower. Broken words came from his lips. A deep
+mysterious silence held the man in awe. It was as though One stood
+beside him while he prayed. And to that One he spoke of Ellenor.
+
+At that very hour she was running quickly along the high road to
+Orvillière. The moon, full and soft as pearl, rode high in the
+cloudless sky. The stars glinted like silver fires. But the beauty
+of the night was lost upon Ellenor. It seemed to her as if she would
+never reach her destination. At last, at last, she was at the top of
+the valley which sloped to the farm! As she ran down hill, she could
+hear the sound of music and the ring of laughter. The _Grand Plough_
+supper, the _finale_ of the day's work and feasting, was evidently
+in full swing. When she reached the house she crept up to one of the
+windows and peered in. The hired fiddler and man with the flute and
+the man with the "serpent" sat on the _jonquière_. The kitchen was
+full of people, eating and drinking round a long table covered with
+great pieces of meat and puddings of every description.
+
+At the head of the table was Dominic Le Mierre, evidently the worse
+for drink, which, however had not made him idiotic, but which had
+maddened him into wild and extravagant excitement. Beside him was
+Blaisette Simon, dressed in a quaint muslin gown which accentuated
+her childlike and piquante beauty. Her father, easy-going Mess'
+Simon, looked on smilingly at the orgie around him, and seemed not
+in the least disturbed when Dominic drew his arms round Blaisette
+and kissed her repeatedly. She gave an affected little scream and
+pretended to be shocked, but Dominic laughed all the louder, and
+cried to all the guests to drink her health.
+
+And all the while, Ellenor looked on with wide eyes of jealousy. In
+the presence of Dominic she forgot all goodness, all restraint, she
+only longed passionately to be in the place of Blaisette. Not in the
+least knowing what she did, she opened the house door and entered
+the kitchen. At first she was not noticed, so great was the noise
+and misrule. Suddenly Blaisette caught sight of her, and pointed her
+out to Dominic with a foolish giggle.
+
+"I've been told she's mad after you," she whispered, "and it seems
+it's true since she has forced her way into here!"
+
+Dominic was not only furious, but fearful of disclosures. He rose
+unsteadily to his feet, and pointed at Ellenor.
+
+"Be off with you!" he cried, "how dare you come here, you
+_impudante_!"
+
+The girl of Les Casquets Cottage stood as if turned to stone. She
+did not know what she had expected when she entered the room.
+Blind, mad impulse had moved her to a mad act. But this was like
+death to her, this harsh voice, this volley of rough words. When she
+did not move, Dominic reeled down the room, and taking her by the
+shoulders, he pushed her into the entrance hall and locked the
+kitchen door.
+
+When she came to herself, she never dreamt of blaming Dominic.
+
+"It's all _her_ fault!" she said to herself, climbing the hill
+swiftly, "it's every bit her fault; and as sure's as she's alive,
+I'll pay her out!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+The sudden appearance of Ellenor at the Grand Plough supper was
+talked of all over the countryside; and the story of it soon
+penetrated to Les Casquets Cottage. Mrs. Cartier made her usual
+futile remark that "one never knew what the girl would do next," and
+whined and canted about the matter for days together. Jean was very
+angry at Ellenor's want of proper pride in thrusting herself where
+she was not considered good enough to enter; but neither parent
+guessed at the real state of affairs.
+
+Le Mierre managed to waylay Ellenor some days after _La Grand'
+Querrue_, and a few careless kisses and slighting remarks of
+Blaisette bound the girl of the cottage closer to him than ever. As
+for Dominic, he told himself that he could not and would not give up
+the stolen meetings with Ellenor. They were far too exciting, for
+the girl was one to set a man on fire, with her passionate
+demonstrations of love, and her wild, untamed nature. Thus the
+Spring passed, and the long days of Summer gladdened workers and
+idlers alike.
+
+It was June, and Perrin Corbet was busy day and night at the
+fishing. He and Cartier put away a good bit of money, but they
+never entrusted it to safer keeping than certain old purses locked
+up in their cottage homes. Each man toiled, not to save merely, but
+to keep a sum of money put by for those he cared for. If Perrin had
+hopes of nearer relationship to Cartier, he was doomed to
+disappointment. He had begun to court Ellenor persistently, and she,
+as persistently, shunned him.
+
+One evening, as he was returning from Rocquaine Bay after a long
+day's fishing, he met Ellenor in a shady lane. She had been milking
+and carried on her arm the large shining can which it was her pride
+to keep like silver.
+
+"What's the matter, Ellenor?" he said at once, "you look as white as
+death! Is it you are ill?"
+
+She laughed mockingly.
+
+"Have you ever known me to be ill! Surely this warm weather is
+enough to make one look white! And far from being ill, I am much
+amused at what I have seen just now. Will I tell you about it?"
+
+"My good, yes, tell me, I am only too pleased if you talk to me.
+Shall we go up to Les Casquets together? I was going there to see
+your father."
+
+As they walked side by side she began to speak rapidly.
+
+"Well, this amusing thing I have seen! Listen! I was at the top of
+the valley that leads to Orvillière Farm this morning when, all at
+once, I saw a cart coming along. In it was a big chest made of oak
+and carved all over; and besides there was a box covered with
+leather and all over brass nails. Of course one knew at once what
+that meant! In the chest and in the box there was the linen for the
+house of some woman who was soon to be married, and it was being
+taken to the house of the bridegroom. Sure enough, it seems I was
+right, for tied to the cart behind was the cow the father of the
+bride would give! Then, close to the cart, on the side, there was a
+girl I knew. She was the nearest woman relation of Blaisette Simon,
+and she was carrying a looking glass. I knew what all those things
+meant--a marriage soon to take place. So I looked again, and I saw
+that the man who was leading the cart was Dominic Le Mierre, the
+master of Orvillière, and he turned down the hill that leads to the
+farm. He didn't see me--him--he was chatting and laughing with the
+girl cousin of Blaisette, and telling her not to let the looking
+glass fall, or that would be bad luck. Now, Perrin Corbet, tell me,
+what do you think all that means?"
+
+She breathed quickly and turned her face away from him.
+
+"Means!" echoed the fisherman, "of course it means only one thing,
+that there will soon be a wedding, that the bride will be Blaisette
+Simon and the bridegroom will be Dominic Le Mierre. But why do you
+ask me? You said you knew yourself what it meant when you saw the
+chest in the cart!"
+
+"Bah, don't be so stupid and tease me like that! There might be some
+mistake. And what do I care if she does marry him?"
+
+"I wonder you haven't heard it talked of before, Ellenor, for all
+Torteval has said long ago they would make a match."
+
+"Well, let people chat as much as they like! _He_ don't care for
+her, that I know. It's only her money he's after. She is a silly
+little fool, all pink and white and yellow hair."
+
+"Perhaps! But all we men can see that she is a very pretty girl. And
+how do you know he don't care for her, eh?"
+
+"How dare you to question me like this! Never mind how I know, but I
+do."
+
+"Well, my girl, I can tell you all about it. It would seem that Le
+Mierre has been making a fool of you. All Torteval knows it. And
+there's times and times I've seen you together; and him making love
+to you."
+
+"You're a sneak and a liar! So you've spied on us, Perrin Corbet,
+have you?"
+
+The fisherman was absolutely unmoved by her rudeness. His love was
+beyond and above any feeling of even proper pride.
+
+"I've not spied on you at all, but it wasn't my fault if you didn't
+see me; and you never gave me a chance of telling you all this
+before. He's sure and certain to marry Blaisette. It's as good as if
+she was his wife now you've seen the cart taking the linen to
+Orvillière. Don't be vexed with me. It's for your good I speak. You
+know how I love you, Ellenor."
+
+"Bah, who cares for your love! I was a fool to tell you the amusing
+thing I've seen. And I tell you, once more, he don't love Blaisette
+Simon."
+
+"Well, have it your own way! I've nothing more to say about the
+marriage. But I've a mind to go to warn Blaisette about her husband
+to be."
+
+Ellenor turned on Perrin a look of wild terror and anger.
+
+"If I could, I'd kill you, because I hate you so! You would go to
+tell Blaisette that you've seen me and him together!"
+
+"I would do no such thing. But I would wish to warn her that Dominic
+is mixed up with smugglers."
+
+A dead silence was at last broken by Ellenor's husky words.
+
+"How do you know he's mixed up with smugglers?"
+
+"Listen to my tale this time," he said, "but it isn't at all
+amusing. One night I was off the point of the cliffs below the
+Haunted House. I was in my boat, fishing for _bream_. It was full
+moon, but me and my boat were in shadow. None could see us. By and
+bye--I saw a long, narrow boat shoot out from a cave not far off
+from me. In it were three or four black looking foreigners. They
+pushed their boat close under the cliffs and waited, full an hour.
+Then, by and bye, down came Le Mierre and another man with bundles
+of silk, or what looked like it ... and the fellow in the boat got
+up and caught hold of the bundles and went off with them like the
+very devil. Le Mierre and his man were up the cliff again before I
+could whistle to them that I was by. I've meant to tell Le Mierre
+some day; and it seems to me now's the time for him and his girl to
+know."
+
+"And what good would that be, I'd like to be told! He'd only do his
+best to pay you out for being a sneak."
+
+"I've thought, too, of letting the constables of the parish know of
+it," pursued Corbet quietly.
+
+"And a fine row there'd be! Do you think you, a poor fisherman,
+would be believed when you went to tell tales of him, a rich farmer!
+Bah, you must be mad, Perrin Corbet."
+
+Now the fisherman had all the island reverence for his betters. He
+really spoke to ease his mind; but he was very far from longing to
+deliver up Dominic to justice, in spite of the pricking of his
+conscience, which whispered to him that he was like an accomplice in
+a crime if he did not tell of the smuggling business. He was silent
+now, and Ellenor began to speak again.
+
+"If you take my advice you won't meddle with Monsieur Le Mierre at
+all. Are you forgetting that his family has always been well known
+for its wizards and witches? Bah, Perrin, have you so soon forgotten
+how the grandfather of Monsieur used to throw black powder on people
+if they offended him, and then they would be taken ill all of a
+sudden? And over and over again, at the _Sabbat des Sorciers_ of a
+Friday night on Catiôroc Hill, the very mother of Dominic has been
+seen, dancing with all the rest!"
+
+Perrin stopped short and whistled.
+
+"Well, you won't hardly believe me, but I had quite forgotten! Of
+course now I remember all you say. No, no, I can't meddle with him.
+His whole family has always been known to have dealings with the
+devil. Well, here we are to Les Casquets, let's go in and perhaps
+your mother will give me a cup of tea."
+
+"Go in by yourself, if you like! As for me, I'm off, à bientôt,
+Perrin!"
+
+Ellenor walked slowly in the direction which would lead her furthest
+away from the cottage. She wound in and out of low, prickly gorze
+bushes covering the moorland till she reached Pleinmont Point, then
+she ran down a gently sloping grass valley till she got to the sea.
+She had an appointment with Dominic at Pezerie, the bottom of the
+valley which skirted the rocky coast. It was blowing hard, and yet a
+dense mist hung over the sea. Once, like a ghost, a boat with a
+velvety brown sail, flitted across the Pezerie outlook. A bell
+tolled from Hanois Lighthouse.
+
+Ellenor shivered, and cruel forebodings took hold of her. Then, all
+at once, it was brilliant sunshine in her heart, for Dominic came
+running down the valley and clasped her in his arms. With sobs and
+passionate words of reproach and love, she asked him if it was true
+he was going to marry Blaisette.
+
+"Little silly child!" he said, with a laugh, "of course it is not
+true! There was no thought of _my_ marriage when I led the cart. I
+was just helping the cousin of Blaisette; one does not always
+exactly keep to old customs."
+
+Then she told him of Perrin and the smuggling; and he called her a
+clever _garce_ for stopping Corbet's mouth. He was in the gayest and
+most fascinating of moods, and Ellenor was in a heaven of joy, for
+his caresses and words had never before been so tender. It was late
+before they parted. He could not see her again for a few days, he
+explained, as he had special business on hand.
+
+The next day, when Ellenor was knitting outside Les Casquets, a
+messenger arrived from Orvillière. He brought an invitation to Jean
+Cartier and to his wife and daughter, to attend the wedding of
+Monsieur Dominic Le Mierre and Mademoiselle Blaisette Simon.
+
+She stood up straight and tall to receive the blow. She did not
+flinch. Only her face was grey as ashes; and her large eyes looked
+like those of a hunted animal, as she accepted the invitation for
+her parents and herself.
+
+The wedding was fixed for that day week, and all the parish, indeed
+the two parishes of Saint Pierre du Bois and Torteval, were wild
+with excitement. Hundreds of people were invited; and for days
+before the ceremony the water lanes and marshes were visited by
+bands of young people eager to gather the _gllajeurs_, or wild marsh
+iris, to strew before the bride and bridegroom when they would leave
+the church.
+
+It was a lovely morning when Dominic stood before the altar in the
+old church of Saint Pierre du Bois and vowed to love and cherish
+fair Blaisette, a picture of sweet gentleness, and pretty coquetry
+in her fair white bridal gown. But the sun was black and the sky was
+lead to Ellenor, as she watched the bride and bridegroom walk down
+the aisle together, man and wife, arm in arm. She could have touched
+the bride, so close she stood to her as she passed; and Dominic's
+eyes fell upon her with a stony stare. For a maddening moment,
+Ellenor thought she would die. Then, her proud spirit re-asserted
+itself. She would go through the day carrying aloft her banner of
+self-respect. She would march to battle as if to the sound of music.
+As she made this resolution, a murmur of almost horror reached her
+from outside the church. She hastened to the porch in time to see
+that Blaisette was crying.
+
+"What is it?" she whispered to Perrin Corbet, who, all unnoticed,
+had kept close to her during the ceremony.
+
+"It's that she has remembered suddenly she came to the church a
+different way from what she does on Sundays. And of course we know
+it's dreadful bad luck, poor girl! It's certain there'll be
+something happen before the year is out."
+
+A gleam of joy lit up Ellenor's pale face.
+
+"Come along, Perrin, let's be off to Orvillière--there's not too
+much time before dinner."
+
+Corbet looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"But, aren't you going to put on a different gown?"
+
+"And, pray, _impudant_, why, I'd like to know! This one is silk, and
+what more do you want?"
+
+"It's the colour I don't like! Scarlet for a day like this! You
+ought to be in white."
+
+But Ellenor only laughed at him. Not she give up her scarlet gown
+made of silk that Dominic had given her one night in the Haunted
+House!
+
+Orvillière Farm was gay, outside and in, with garlands and crowns of
+flowers; and in the kitchen and in the field beside the house,
+tables were laid for the customary dinner of roast beef and mutton,
+plum pudding and _gâche à corînthe_. Cider flowed liberally; and,
+after dinner, the guests were in fitting mood for the games that
+followed till tea-time. Then all the evening long, dancing waxed
+fast and furious, with intervals for songs. Dominic delighted the
+company by giving Ellenor a sounding kiss when she chose him for her
+partner in--
+
+    "Saluez, messieurs et dames,
+    Ah! mon beau laurier!"
+
+and all the company then shouted in chorus--
+
+    "Entr'embrassez-vous par le jeu d'amourette,
+    Entr'embrassez-vous par le jeu d'amour."
+
+But it is certain Ellenor would not have dared to choose the
+bridegroom had he not been half drunk. Perrin Corbet, a sober man
+himself, looked on in disgust; and glanced at Blaisette to see how
+she took it. But she was giggling as usual, and drinking mulled wine
+from one of the new wedding cups.
+
+At five in the morning the wedding party broke up; and all the
+guests said that Ellenor Cartier was a shameless girl. Perrin heard
+and clenched his fist.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"Quick! get up, Ellenor, you must have overslept yourself!" cried
+Jean Cartier one morning in August, as he woke his daughter with a
+loud knocking on the partition between the attic bedrooms of the
+cottage.
+
+"It's all right, father," the girl called in reply, "I've been up
+there's a long time, but I am putting the roses round my hat. The
+breakfast will be ready as soon as you're down."
+
+Jean dressed in particularly old clothes, and Mrs. Cartier chose out
+the shabbiest skirt she possessed, for they were preparing for a day
+of hard work on the beach. But, to their surprise, when they came
+down to breakfast, Ellenor wore a pretty gown of dark red stuff. She
+explained, carelessly, that indeed _she_ would not make herself a
+fright before all the countryside; and if the gown was spoilt, well,
+it couldn't be helped. Her parents said nothing, for Ellenor's
+temper was more uncertain than ever, and they dreaded an outbreak;
+but Mrs. Cartier had her suspicions.
+
+After breakfast the three started for Rocquaine Bay, where a lively
+scene was being played, for it was the time of _vraicing_ or
+sea-weed harvest. Lines of carts were ranged above high-water mark,
+and the patient horses were decked with flowers. The beach and sands
+swarmed with people all smiling and gay, and for the most part
+wearing nosegays. Rich and poor from two parishes chatted, laughed
+and worked hard with sickles at cutting the _vraic scié_ from the
+low rocks. Very soon, the beach was dotted with heaps of sea-weed,
+each marked by a pebble, bearing the owner's name in chalk. The more
+adventurous waded across the _cols_ or causeways to rocks at some
+distance from the shore and found rich stores of golden weed.
+Amongst these adventurous spirits was Ellenor. She had persuaded one
+of the farmers to take her on his horse to a high group of rocks,
+hidden from the beach by Rocquaine Tower, and here she worked
+undisturbed, and in full possession of a wonderful growth of
+_vraic_.
+
+She took off her hat, and her hair curled about her forehead in damp
+little rings, for the sun was scorching. A dusky red glowed in her
+tan cheeks; her eyes, shining with excitement and the joy of work,
+followed the skilled movements of the sickle she swung to and fro,
+and she was entirely absorbed in gathering in the precious _vraic_.
+But, all at once, she paused. She heard, distinctly, the splash of
+horse's feet. Someone was coming to interrupt her and share her
+harvest. She would not have it! She had first thought of these
+rocks! She would fight for her rights!
+
+The splashing came nearer. She did not turn round. A scrambling
+sound followed; then she heard heavy steps mount the rocks.
+
+"Ellenor," said a well-known voice, "what luck to find you quite
+alone here!"
+
+It was Dominic Le Mierre, and it was the first time the two had met
+alone since his wedding day. He took her hand and smiled into her
+eyes, which filled with tears.
+
+"You cheated me," she said, "you told me you were not going to marry
+her."
+
+He laughed and stooped to kiss her.
+
+"You silly girl! If I had told you I'd never have got so many kisses
+from you, and you wouldn't have liked that, eh! What difference does
+this marriage make to you and me, I'd like to know! Besides, don't
+pretend to be so good all of a sudden. Didn't you choose me at my
+wedding feast, and didn't I kiss you before everybody? Not that I
+remember it too well, for I had had a little drop, but I've been
+told of it since."
+
+"Ah, I was mad that night--mad with jealousy!"
+
+"Go on being mad!" he cried, "how well you look in that red gown,
+though it's a common rag besides the fine clothes of my
+milk-and-water wife. Bah, what a fool she is! Don't you know I
+married her for money and for her good family? But she is like a
+silly baby. Her pretty face doesn't touch me. She might stare at me
+for ever with her eyes of blue china, and my blood would lie quiet
+like a stagnant pond. As for you, witch, your eyes burn into me and
+set me in a blaze. And I vow you'll have to meet me pretty often.
+Where shall we agree to see each other to-morrow night?"
+
+"Nowhere," she replied sulkily.
+
+"I like that! What new trick are you up to now, pretending you don't
+want to meet me?"
+
+"I _do_ want to meet you!" she cried passionately, "but I've got a
+little bit of pride left, and I'm decided not to meet a married man
+on the sly!"
+
+He scowled and crushed her hands in his.
+
+"You know your character is gone as it is. You're talked of all over
+the parishes, people say you're mad after me--so, I'd just like to
+know what difference not meeting me will make."
+
+"I'm decided not to do it."
+
+"Very well, my fine lady, we'll see about that. Ah, you little fool,
+you've wasted the time and now I must go back, my horse is already
+up to his knees in water. And how will _you_ get back, I'd like to
+know!"
+
+"Perrin Corbet is coming to fetch me. Look, here he is."
+
+A quarter of an hour later, all the _vraicqueurs_ were gathered
+together on the beach to eat their meal in common. Every woman had
+brought _gâche_, biscuits and special _vraicquing_ cakes: while the
+rich farmers had provided a plentiful supply of cider which had been
+brought down in little barrels swung to the carts. It was a merry
+time, and Blaisette Le Mierre was looked upon as the queen of the
+feast. Very few spoke to Ellenor, for she was shunned as a marked
+character. Only Perrin paid her every attention, and saw that she
+had everything of the best. As for Dominic, it appeared as if he did
+not even see her: and people said he had been persecuted and waylaid
+by Miss Ellenor, for it was evident he did not care a straw for such
+a girl.
+
+After the meal, some of the men carted away the _vraic_ to the farms
+over the cliffs, where it would be used to enrich the land. Others,
+with the help of the women, spread out the sea-weed, which was
+stored in heaps on the beach to dry. This, later on, would be used
+for fuel, and would give out its peculiar pungent smell, so dear
+and memory-stirring to all Channel Islanders.
+
+So the _vraicquing_ festival ended; and that night Ellenor sobbed
+herself to sleep, a passionate weary creature, too proud to bend to
+God and turn to goodness.
+
+It was November; and one evening as Perrin Corbet was crossing a
+hill on his return home from fishing, he thought he heard a low
+moaning. He stopped and listened. Was it the cry of a sea-gull
+flying into shelter from the storm which was approaching? Was it,
+perhaps, the spirit of some drowned fisherman haunting his house?
+No--it was the voice of a living woman in distress! He waited, and
+gradually traced the sound to a huge cromlech on the hill. He
+stopped at the entrance.
+
+"It is I, Perrin Corbet!" he said quietly, "is anyone in trouble?"
+
+"Yes, yes!" answered an eager voice, "come in and speak to
+me--Ellenor."
+
+"My dear girl," went on the fisherman's even voice, "what are you
+doing here?"
+
+"I've been hiding, there's an hour, from Dominic Le Mierre. Ah, it
+is no use, I must tell you all, for you never scold me and look
+black at me, like all the rest do. I said I wouldn't meet him now
+he's married, but the more I keep out of his way, the more it seems
+he finds me out."
+
+"Then you don't care for him no more, like all Torteval said you
+did?"
+
+"Care for him! Care! I love him with all my soul!"
+
+"And him such a black character, and a smuggler! There's times and
+times I've seen him again to the cliffs with queer fellows; and
+others have seen him, too. But nobody likes to give him up to the
+constables, except me, and I've settled it that I'll tell what he
+is after. He deserves it, the way he treats you. And it will be a
+fine way of disgracing him. I'll risk that he'll bewitch me."
+
+A dead silence followed his words. Then Ellenor's hand stole into
+his, and Ellenor's voice said softly,
+
+"Perrin, is it you love me yet?"
+
+He lifted her hand and kissed it.
+
+"I love you better than even my mother. I love you next best to
+God."
+
+"And yet, Perrin, I am not a good girl."
+
+"Don't dare to say that to me! You _are_ good when you are not
+thinking of that scoundrel. It's him that has made people speak
+about you like they do! But, listen, Ellenor, if you was the
+blackest of the black, I'd love you, because it's you, and because I
+was made to love you, once and for ever."
+
+She burst into a passion of tears.
+
+"That's how I love him! He's the blackest of the black--a liar, a
+smuggler, a cheat to his wife and to me, too fond of his glass,
+cruel to the poor, mad for money, pretending to be pious of a
+Sunday; and yet, yet, I love him, because it's him, and because I
+was made to love him, once and for ever."
+
+"My God! how you hurt me!" cried poor Perrin, clasping her hand
+closer in his.
+
+She cried quietly for a little while, and Corbet did not try to
+check her tears. His tender love made him wise and gentle as his own
+mother. At last she was quite still, and presently she said,
+
+"Perrin, if you love me, I'll be your wife some day."
+
+"Do you really mean it? It seems too good to be true. I can't take
+it in, as you see. And yet if it does come to pass, there'll be no
+man prouder than me in the whole of Guernsey!"
+
+"But, if I am to be your wife, there'll be a condition."
+
+"Condition! You can make a hundred, dear Ellenor."
+
+"I don't know if you'll agree to this one, however!"
+
+"Of course I will! I promise you beforehand."
+
+"Promise! Promise! Quickly!"
+
+He laughed gaily, wild with joy at her sweet mood and at the fair
+prospect the future held for him.
+
+"I promise I'll agree gladly to your condition, whatever it is."
+
+"Then listen to it. You have promised you'll never give up Monsieur
+Le Mierre to the constables."
+
+Perrin was silent for a long time; then he said, in a voice hoarse
+with emotion,
+
+"It seems I am a very stupid chap, and it takes me a little while to
+see what a woman is driving at. But though you are too clever for
+me, Ellenor, and caught me in a fine trap, I can make out the
+reason, the only reason, why you will be my wife. It is to save Le
+Mierre from disgrace."
+
+"Yes," she replied, "it is; and there is yet one more reason. I
+can't live to Les Casquets any longer. I'm too unhappy. Mother is
+always telling me what people say about me; no other tune do I hear
+all day long."
+
+"Well, it's quite plain you don't care a _double_ for me; but,
+still, I can take care of you, give you a home and thus stop the
+wagging of all the tongues in the parish. But, Ellenor, there is one
+thing I must speak about. I am willing to know you don't love me;
+willing to know you've given your heart to another man, and him a
+scoundrel. But, I couldn't stand it if you had meetings with him
+when you will be my wife, the daughter of my dear old mother. I'd
+kill you, I believe. God forgive me, if such a thing happened."
+
+"You needn't be afraid," she said in a dreary, colourless voice,
+"since now I am always getting out of his way. There is left a
+little pride in me yet. I can't bring such disgrace on my father.
+But every day I cry because I can't see him."
+
+"Well, I am satisfied! After all we know what each other means. And
+now, when will it be, this wedding of ours?"
+
+He tried to speak gaily, poor Perrin, but it was sad work. He
+succeeded at last in persuading her to agree to be married on
+Christmas Day: and then, fearful that she would change her mind, he
+said he would take her home at once, for it was getting late.
+
+As they descended the hill and crossed the bay, Perrin pointed out
+the gleaming of a light on Lihou, an islet within a stone's throw of
+Guernsey.
+
+"It seems that Le Mierre is living there just now to work at the
+iodine. His wife is with him. She is very delicate, it would appear,
+and not very happy, poor pretty Blaisette!"
+
+"Does he beat her?"
+
+"So people say. I can believe anything bad of Le Mierre."
+
+"It is not surprising. How bad I must be to love such a man! Perrin,
+why didn't God let me--_make_ me, love you instead?"
+
+Was this sad gentle voice in reality Ellenor's? Was this nestling
+hand hers? Did it really creep through his arm?
+
+"My girl, we must not dictate to God about what He does! I confess I
+don't understand half He lets happen to us. But I couldn't question
+it."
+
+"Poor Perrin!" she went on softly, "to care for me, of all the girls
+in the two parishes."
+
+"I wouldn't change you for the Queen on her throne?"
+
+He caught her to his breast and folded her to his heart. In the
+heaven of his faithful love she felt, at least, safe from her own
+lurid passion, and at rest from the biting remarks of her little
+world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+It was the night of Christmas Eve and the snow fell thick and fast.
+This weather, so unusual in the Channel Isles, had delayed Perrin
+Corbet in the little town of Saint Pierre Port, and it was past ten
+o'clock when he reached home. His mother had gone to bed, but not
+before she had prepared her son's supper and left the little kitchen
+the picture of comfort. After his meal, Perrin turned the lamp low,
+lit his pipe, and sat down in his mother's arm-chair before the
+_vraicq_ fire. The wind moaned in the huge chimney, with a cradling
+sound, but Perrin was not in the least inclined to sleep. To-morrow
+would be his wedding day. He could not realize it; he could not
+believe he would so soon reach the height of joy. He tried to
+picture to-morrow. Ellenor, in the white gown she had described to
+him, would stand before the altar, and he, her devoted lover, would
+take her hand and declare, before God and before the world, that she
+was to be his wife.
+
+Then, the rest of the day would be spent in quiet joy at Les
+Casquets Cottage, with his mother as the only guest of the Cartiers.
+He pictured the moment when he would say, taking out his watch,
+"Now, mother, now, Ellenor, it is time for us to go home."
+
+He would light the lantern, and with those two women, so dear, so
+precious, he would return to this very cottage, henceforth to be a
+palace to him, since Ellenor, his queen, would be his wife. He would
+deal so tenderly with her, for she had suffered much, his poor
+Ellenor! He would never reproach her if she seemed to fret after
+Dominic. She could not uproot, all at once, such a deep love. He
+would lead her gently back to the ways of religion which she had
+deserted. He would remind her, one quiet evening, that she was of
+those who were admitted to The Holy Supper of the Lord, for had she
+not been confirmed at the same time as he had? And, please God, she
+would listen to him. Perhaps, in days to come, she would learn to
+love him a little. Perhaps that joy would be his when baby hands
+clasped his rough brown fingers and a rosy baby mouth kissed his
+adoring lips!
+
+His pipe was out; and his head was bent as he dreamed of the morrow,
+his wedding day. For a moment, the wind had ceased its moaning and a
+deep stillness enfolded the cottage.
+
+Suddenly, a sharp tap rang through the kitchen. Perrin started, his
+dreams scattered. He listened, breathless, his island blood frozen,
+his Celtic temperament at once calling up visions of the
+supernatural.
+
+Again the tap sounded on the window; and this time, a familiar voice
+re-assured Perrin.
+
+"Let me in, Corbet, quick, I bring bad news."
+
+In a moment Cartier stood in the kitchen and cried breathlessly,
+
+"Have you seen Ellenor? She hasn't been home since early this
+afternoon!"
+
+The ruddy colour left Perrin's tanned face.
+
+"My God, no, I haven't seen her! What, then, can have happened?"
+
+Then, with graphic, trembling words, Jean told how Ellenor had gone
+to Saint Pierre to buy some finery for her wedding bonnet; how, hour
+after hour, when the snow was thick and the wind howled over the
+moorland, she had been anxiously looked for; how, at last, in
+despair, he had said to his wife that he would go to Perrin, for
+they must be off to look for Ellenor all the way to Saint Pierre
+Port.
+
+At once, Corbet went upstairs, and, waking his mother, told her the
+story of his girl's mysterious disappearance.
+
+"We'll go round to Les Casquets and bring Mrs. Cartier over here,
+mother. She's a poor creature, and she can't be left alone. Who can
+tell when Cartier and I will be back!"
+
+It was two o'clock before the men started to walk to Saint Pierre
+Port. It was brilliant moonlight at four o'clock, and the gusts of
+snow had died away with the wind; but the men searched, in vain, for
+any trace of Ellenor. As soon as it was dawn, the two parishes were
+roused, and those who were kind helped to look for the missing girl.
+The rest shrugged their shoulders and said that Christmas Day was
+not meant to be wasted in such a search, for such a queer wild girl
+as Ellenor Cartier. At last a child found in a hedge a paper bag: it
+contained a spray of artificial flowers, a few drenched roses. The
+child's mother guessed this must be the finery Ellenor had gone to
+buy, for everyone knew the pitiful story by now. But the hedge was
+ominously near Rocquaine Bay. What did this mean?
+
+After three days of minute search, the band of men gave up in
+despair; and Jean and Perrin went back to the routine of daily work
+in dogged and patient despair. The fisherman wondered if Le Mierre
+had heard the news, shut up in Lihou Island, where his wife lay very
+ill of small-pox, which was raging in different parts of Guernsey.
+Finally Jean unburdened his mind to his friend and talked with him
+of Ellenor's infatuation for Dominic. Would it be that she had
+drowned herself to be rid of the torture of her life?
+
+Perrin was haunted perpetually by this idea: it was with him by day
+and by night. He went about like a man who was half asleep, and
+people began to complain that he did not even nod to his
+acquaintances when he met them. So the Christmas season passed and
+it was the last day of the Old Year. The cold and the snow
+disappeared, and the weather was mild and calm as Perrin rowed
+homewards about four o'clock in the afternoon. He had been to pull
+up his lobster pots which had been put down not far from Lihou
+island. Buried in thought, he did not notice how close he was rowing
+to the reef of rocks off the north of the island, till a loud cry
+startled him and he saw that someone was signalling to him from a
+jutting rock close to his boat. It was a woman. It was Ellenor
+Cartier.
+
+Mad with joy, Perrin brought his boat into a tiny creek, moored it
+and scrambled up the rocks to the girl's side.
+
+"Don't come near me!" she cried, "for the sake of your mother! I am
+minding Blaisette. She is ill, dreadfully, dreadfully ill. If she
+gets well, the doctor says it will be a miracle. But even _he_ is
+afraid to come much. Since Christmas Eve he hasn't been here. It was
+then I came, just after his visit."
+
+She had gradually edged away from Perrin, and now placed herself
+behind a boulder. Over its edge her pale face looked sadly at her
+lover.
+
+"Do you know," she went on, "perhaps you won't believe me, but till
+I saw you just now in your boat, I didn't even feel sorry I left you
+on Christmas Eve. Are you very angry with me?"
+
+"I couldn't be angry with you, my darling! Even now, it seems I
+can't believe you're alive. We found your white roses, all wet and
+spoilt, in a hedge close to Rocquaine Bay; and, ah, how we feared,
+your father and me ... But, Ellenor, tell me, how is it you came
+here? And how was it you were on the rocks just when my boat
+passed."
+
+"I was on the rocks to try to see if I could let one of you men know
+we want food, and to tell the doctor he _must_ come again. I've
+given her all the medicine he left. It would be no use for me to go
+over to Rocquaine at low tide, because not a soul would help me; all
+would run away from me."
+
+"Set your heart at rest, my Ellenor. I'll go for all you want. But,
+quick, tell me, how is it you came here?"
+
+She buried her face in her hands, and broke into bitter weeping. And
+Perrin could not clasp her in his arms. Presently she spoke, in a
+low voice, full of anguish.
+
+"It was like this. On Christmas Eve, when I was coming back from
+Saint Pierre Port, I met Monsieur Le Mierre. He stopped me and
+wanted me to go back to the town with him. I had nearly decided to
+do as he wished. It was no use, I couldn't say 'No.' There was long
+I hadn't seen him; and he was so handsome and tall. And, and, I
+believe he loves me true, whatever happens! But, just as I said I'd
+go back with him, I thought of Blaisette, her that I hated and yet
+her that I pitied. And I asked him who was with her on lonely Lihou
+Isle. Him, he only laughed, and said she was all right; he'd be back
+before midnight. But there wasn't a soul in Guernsey would go to
+mind her, for love or money, so it was no use bothering, he said,
+and again he laughed. And then I was frightened. He seemed like the
+devil, so cruel about his poor wife. And, all of a sudden, I thought
+only of her, and I told him _I'd_ go to mind her, not for love or
+money, but because I was _so_ sorry, oh, so sorry, for her!"
+
+"My brave girl! My own sweetheart!" Perrin cried, stretching out
+eloquent hands to the sad, pale face.
+
+"Listen, there's more yet to tell! I don't know how I got back to
+Saint Pierre du Bois, it was snowing fast and yet faster; but, at
+last I was to L'Erée. I forgot all about everything except poor
+Blaisette. I threw away the roses for my wedding bonnet. I got to
+the beach before the tide was quite down. The sea was black. The sky
+was black. Just here and there was a dreadful line of white, where
+the waves were breaking over the rocks. And on Lihou Isle not a
+light was to be seen. I shivered when I thought of Blaisette in the
+dark, ill with small-pox of a Christmas Eve."
+
+Perrin ground his teeth.
+
+"Damn that brute! He's not fit for hell itself."
+
+She drew a long breath.
+
+"Listen, Perrin, I've not finished! I began to cross the rocks and
+found myself on the causeway at last, but I was deep in water. The
+horrible waves, like black walls, was all around me. The wind pushed
+me on every side. The snow was falling thicker and thicker. But at
+last, at last, I was to Lihou. I climbed the beach, ran across the
+grass, and, pushing open a door in the wall of the garden--we all
+know the farm well, eh, Perrin? I went up the steps to the house. I
+opened the door. The house was like ice. In the kitchen was a poor
+little bit of fire. I made it up; and then I tried to get courage to
+go upstairs.... Well, somehow I was in the bedroom. I had taken a
+candle with me. I can't tell you how she looked. It would make you
+wish you could kill _him_. She looked at me with her poor glazed
+eyes. Her lips were black with fever. She cried, in a voice like a
+thread, for water, water!"
+
+"God in heaven! and you love this brute yet?"
+
+She hid her face for a moment.
+
+"Hush, I've not finished! I did my best for her, poor Blaisette. For
+a minute she knew me and she tried to thank me; and very soon she
+fell asleep."
+
+"And he came back at midnight?"
+
+"No, not till the middle of Christmas Day; and then he was half
+drunk. Since then he has hardly been near the house; but he has not
+left Lihou. He has been about the stables, and come into the kitchen
+to get his meals once or twice; and he is drinking, drinking all the
+time. I can see he is afraid of the small-pox, and afraid of death.
+And yet, I believe, I am sure, he loves me yet; only I will not
+speak to him nor look at him, because of _her_, lying upstairs all
+unconscious."
+
+Perrin stared at her, aghast. Was it possible a woman could love,
+actually love, the devil! Bah, it seemed so!
+
+"Look here," he cried, almost in a rude voice, "he loves you so much
+that he lets you run the risk of getting the small-pox! Very well!
+I'm decided what to do. I'll go back to tell my mother I am coming
+here to look after you twice a day, perhaps more, and I'll give
+_him_ a piece of my mind. My mother will go to Les Casquets. I'll
+stop the mouths of the two parishes, so will my mother and your
+parents, or I'll know why. Now, go back, and I'll be off for the
+doctor and for food."
+
+"Wait, just a minute, Perrin! There is something more I must say, to
+cast it off my mind. It is all my fault that Blaisette has the
+small-pox. It was me that went to the witch to Saint Pierre Port to
+cast a spell on my rival the day after the _Grand' Querrue_. I
+didn't tell no names, but that's why she's bad, and oh, Perrin, it's
+all my fault."
+
+"Yes, I suppose it's that, in a way. But it's my belief there's
+another reason for her sickness. You remember she came the wrong way
+to church on her wedding day? Ah, we all know what _that_
+means--trouble--as sure as her name is Blaisette. But I must be
+off!"
+
+In a few hours Perrin returned with a store of food and the
+unwilling doctor, who was obliged to go up to see the patient he
+dreaded so horribly, for Perrin took him by the arm and did not
+leave him till he had landed him in the sick room. Then the
+fisherman sought out Le Mierre, and the coward and scoundrel tried
+to hold his own. But Perrin's threats of appeal to the Royal Court
+awed him into a promise to give out money to pay for the expenses of
+his wife's illness. Corbet, himself utterly fearless of disease,
+frightened the drunkard into further dread of the house: and Ellenor
+had it all her own way. But it was of no avail. Pretty, frail
+Blaisette could not battle with a terrible illness, neglected at the
+very first; and two days after Perrin came to Lihou, she died,
+without a look or a sign.
+
+There was no thought of taking her poor body across to the other
+island for burial in the sweet quiet churchyard of Saint Pierre du
+Bois. She was laid to rest in a grave dug hastily in a corner beside
+a dark boulder. No hymns were sung over her. Only the grey sea
+moaned and the wind sighed, as her rough coffin was lowered into the
+grave. No messenger, mounted on a black horse, bore the news of her
+death from house to house, up and down the two parishes. Only a poor
+fisherman repeated the sad tidings as he trudged, first to
+Colomberie Farm and then to Orvillière, where Dominic's aunt kept
+house in state while her graceless nephew was away. No _Messieurs_
+of distinguished Torteval families were honoured bearers, but a good
+man and a bad man had carried her coffin to the dark place of
+burial. No weird feasting followed the unconsecrated ceremony: only
+Dominic took refuge from sickening terror in a drunken bout.
+
+But Perrin stood long beside her grave: and prayed for the poor
+little woman so soon to be left alone in the island, henceforth to
+be haunted by her sad spirit.
+
+An hour after Blaisette's burial, Ellenor fainted while she was
+making preparations for leaving the house. Perrin, guessing what
+would follow, rowed her across to the main island, as soon as she
+was able. His mother had returned to her home, and Jean and poor
+weak Mrs. Cartier prepared to nurse their child through an attack of
+small-pox. The doctor shook his head. It was a particularly bad
+case, he said, and it was doubtful if he could save Ellenor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+"So you've made up your mind to lose her, Perrin?" said Mrs. Corbet,
+as she and her son were at supper one spring evening.
+
+"Yes, there is nothing else to be done. Ellenor isn't a girl to
+treat me like that just for a bit of fun. At first, when she was
+just well of the small-pox, she was very kind to me. But when I
+spoke of our wedding day that had been put off and asked her if she
+wouldn't tell me it would be soon again, she turned away and didn't
+say another word for a long time."
+
+"And you left her alone, I hope?"
+
+"Indeed, but, no! I begged and prayed of her to speak to me, till
+she turned round. She looked white and tired. She was crying, but
+she was vexed, too. She told me, quite sharp, to leave her alone.
+She said she wasn't going to marry nobody, and she must have been
+mad to promise to be my wife before. And then she said she was glad
+she'd had the small-pox, because it had put off the wedding."
+
+"Perrin, my son, you are far too good for her, and far too simple!
+If you'd have left her then and there, it's my belief she'd have
+come looking after me the very next day, just to see what you'd told
+me. And if you'd have seemed you didn't care _she'd_ have cared a
+good bit more than she does."
+
+The fisherman shook his head.
+
+"No, it isn't like what you think. It's like this--Ellenor only
+cares for one man, and that's the master of Orvillière."
+
+Mrs. Corbet shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Well, well, she must be _ensorchelai_ herself to love him that's
+such a devil and has so much to do with the Prince of devils. Bah,
+it was only yesterday I was told of some of Le Mierre's doings! It
+was Judie Roussel, and _she_ heard it from one of the maids at
+Orvillière. Just you listen to me, Perrin Corbet, and see what you
+think of it!--Le Mierre, he wanted a bit of fun, him, and you may
+depend it wasn't nothing good, so he fetched some of his fine
+friends to go to the Vale. But they wasn't going to walk, them, no
+such thing! They makes up their minds they'll use the horse of Le
+Mierre's neighbour, Langlois. They find a good strong white one in a
+meadow. What do they do but all jump on his back and be off! Wait a
+bit! He begins to gallop and to gallop, over hedges and brambles;
+they couldn't stop him, and and when he gets nearly to the Vale, he
+throws them off his back in a fine muddy place, and then he's out of
+sight in a minute. And yet, would you believe it, Langlois swore the
+white horse had been in the meadow all the time! Of course it was
+the _devil_ that was the gallopping white horse! And he must be on
+pretty good terms with Le Mierre to play off such a joke with him,
+eh, Perrin!"
+
+"I can't say, mother, I'm sure, and, in case even he is good friends
+with the devil, it's all the worse for the girl that loves him."
+
+"Bah! I've no patience with Ellenor. Le Mierre is a bad man. She
+knows that as well as you and me do, and yet ... she loves him.
+Well, well, women are poor fools. But, come, Perrin, isn't there any
+other girl that would do except Ellenor? There's hundreds nicer than
+her, and hundreds prettier--specially now."
+
+"If she won't have me, I'll never marry. That's the end of it,
+mother."
+
+Mrs. Corbet sighed as she heaped up the supper things for Perrin to
+wash. Such a good, kind son as he was, and to be made a fool of by a
+self-willed girl like Ellenor!
+
+"It seems I haven't seen Le Mierre for a long time," she went on.
+
+"He's been away ever since his wife's death. It was said everywhere,
+in the two parishes and even to Saint Pierre Port that he went off
+because of poor Blaisette. She came again and again to Orvillière
+like a white sea-gull, crying and flapping her wings against his
+bedroom window. Her spirit can't rest it seems, because of his
+wickedness. But, now, I've been told this very day, that he's back
+to Guernsey: and some there are who say he's been making love to
+girls in Jersey."
+
+"If only he'd had brought one back as his wife, that foolish Ellenor
+of yours would have stopped hankering after him!"
+
+"I don't believe he'll marry her, because she is poor and of no
+family: _besides_ ..."
+
+"You may well say _besides_, poor girl! But, come, my son, I am
+tired, I must go to bed."
+
+Rumour was quite correct in giving one of the reasons for Le
+Mierre's departure to Jersey. He told everyone how he was bothered
+by the spirit of Blaisette; but he did not add that abject terror of
+small-pox made him decide to spend some months with well-to-do
+relations in Jersey, which was quite exempt from the horrible
+disease.
+
+It was just before Lent when he came home to find a very bleak
+springtime keeping back the flowers in his garden at Orvillière.
+With relief, after the first night, he told his housekeeper that the
+spirit of Blaisette had gone, evidently for good. The woman, a
+devout Roman Catholic, muttered behind his back.
+
+"She's got enough to do, praying for you in Purgatory, poor soul, if
+she's allowed to think of such a black heart as yours! The Blessed
+Angels and Saints know how it would discourage her to come back to
+see you as bad as ever, and it's _my_ belief, worse!"
+
+The tragic death of Blaisette had almost canonized her: and she, who
+had been in life, a pretty weak doll, was enshrined in all hearts as
+a martyr to her husband's brutality. So often does death enrich and
+enlarge our limited outlook.
+
+It was the evening of the first Sunday in Lent. Jean Cartier, his
+wife, Mrs. Corbet and Perrin had been to church at Saint Pierre du
+Bois. It was dark as they entered the parish of Torteval, and Jean
+said in an anxious voice,
+
+"I suppose Ellenor has left Les Casquets by now?"
+
+His wife nudged him as if to say he had betrayed a secret: but it
+was too late. Mrs. Corbet's gentle voice asked, in great curiosity,
+where Ellenor was going at this time of night.
+
+"To _Les Brandons_, on Pleinmont," said Jean bluntly. "We didn't
+like it. But as for me, I've not got the heart to refuse her
+nothing, since we nearly lost her with the small-pox--poor child!"
+
+The women echoed his deep sigh: and Perrin said quickly,
+
+"Look here! I'm off to _Les Brandons_ too! Then I can look after
+her! Don't wait up for me, mother."
+
+"Very well. But, tell me, Jean. Will Le Mierre be there? Has she met
+him since his return from Jersey?"
+
+"He will be there, for certain," broke in Perrin. "And, for certain,
+she has not see him yet. She told me so herself. _Adi, then, toute
+la compagnie._"
+
+He swung along and was soon out of sight. The high road of Torteval
+was thronged with people who, for the most part, carried lanterns.
+He hurried past, not speaking to a soul. Presently he had reached
+his home, and, turning sharply round the corner of the little
+garden, he found himself in a lane which ended in a cart rut and
+brought him out to the moorland of Pleinmont and close to the
+Haunted House.
+
+The sky was thick with stars, which flashed like silver bonfires in
+the blackness of the night. A fresh breeze swept over the gorze
+bushes of the moorland and blew into yellow and red streamers the
+sheet of flame that rose from a huge bonfire which was built in a
+direct line inland from the Haunted House. The sea, below the
+precipitous cliffs, moaned and sighed, and, far off, in the
+distance, could be heard the murmur of the deep seas. Shouts of
+laughter and merry voices, scraps of folk song and impromptu
+dancing, came from the throng of people scattered over the moorland
+and gathered round the bonfire.
+
+Most of the girls of the company wore masks, rough, crude affairs,
+which, however, effectually concealed their faces. These masked
+girls were to take part in a special feature of _Les Brandons_, and
+were inspected curiously by the men present who were to be chosen as
+partners by these _faux visages_.
+
+Perrin Corbet moved quietly, almost stealthily, about amongst the
+people, evidently intent on finding some particular person. All at
+once he stopped close to the huge bonfire, and stared, with knitted
+brows, at Dominic Le Mierre, who swaggered in and out amongst the
+girls, tapping one on the cheek, chucking another under the chin,
+and pulling the long curls of a young creature in her teens. In the
+fitful and flickering light, the master of Orvillière looked like a
+sea-king, so stalwart, so wicked, so magnetic. It was quite plain to
+Perrin Corbet that he was more than a little the worse for drink;
+and he watched him closely, and followed him as near as he dared
+without being observed.
+
+At ten o'clock, and at a given signal, the masked girls went up to
+the group of men to choose partners. Perrin edged close to Dominic
+Le Mierre and scrutinized painfully the girl who laid her hand on
+the "jerseyed" arm of the master. She was of middle height and
+extremely thin. Her emaciated hand trembled; it looked almost
+discoloured in the uncertain light. The border of her face that
+could be seen round the mask was ghastly in its whiteness. She wore
+a close fitting bonnet which hid all trace of her hair.
+
+With partially glazed eyes, Dominic peered at her.
+
+"You don't look much of a beauty!" he cried, "but I'll soon see who
+you are, my girl!"
+
+When the masks had all chosen, a circle was formed round the
+bonfire, the men holding their partners tightly by the hand. Faster
+and faster flew the circle till the masked faces shewed like a black
+band, while the outside throng of people cheered and clapped, and
+encouraged the dancers to madder whirling. Then, suddenly, as by one
+impulse, the circle was broken up, and a new spectacle was provided
+for the onlookers.
+
+Each girl seized her partner by the hand and together they leapt
+across the flaming bonfire. Wild excitement was the order of the
+night. It was the festival of the rude, primitive elements of human
+nature. It was a pageant of black shadow and brilliant light. It
+answered to the spirit of the bleak moorland, to the steeps of the
+cliffs, to the mystery of the sea.
+
+Only one man in the whole throng was utterly unmoved by the
+abandonment around him. Perrin kept his deep set, keen eyes fixed on
+Dominic and his partner. He watched them leap with perfect skill,
+across the roaring flame of the bonfire. He saw the master bend
+down, and once more peer into the white face of the girl. He
+followed, very stealthily, the two, as they drew apart into a
+shadowed place, where, nevertheless, the light from the bonfire
+could reach and bring their faces into relief. He watched the girl
+unfasten her mask and throw it on the grass. He drew a deep breath.
+Her face was pitifully ugly. It was covered with the pits and dents
+and scars that small-pox had left. The skin was coarse and rough and
+of a yellowish white. Her eyes were dim and red and bleared. Her
+eyebrows and lashes were gone. Her expression was like that of a
+furtive, crouching creature who dreaded the lash.
+
+And it came.
+
+"Who are you, I'd like to know!" cried the master in a towering
+rage, "that has dared to choose me only to cheat me. Do you know,
+woman, that you are as ugly as sin!"
+
+He seized her bonnet and dragged it off. Then he burst into a brutal
+laugh.
+
+"Almost bald, the old crone! I'll pay you out for this trick. Who
+the devil are you? Quick, out with it, or else I'll call the other
+fellows in to help me to find out!"
+
+Perrin moved quite close behind the master, who was too angry to
+notice him. The girl lifted her eyes to Dominic. She spoke quietly.
+
+"I am Ellenor Cartier."
+
+"I might have guessed it, fool that I am! And you are a greater to
+think I would even look at you _now_! You must be quite mad. All I
+ever cared for in you was your devilry, and your eyes that used to
+set me all on fire with love. And now you look like a scared rabbit,
+a white, pinched thing! And your eyes are hideous! And your hair is
+gone! How dare you cheat me, you ugly creature!"
+
+She had clasped her hands together; and gazed at him in
+stupefaction.
+
+Suddenly, he turned on his heel and cried in a loud, far-carrying
+voice--
+
+"Come here, you men, all of you, and help me to throw the witch,
+Ellenor Cartier, into the bonfire! She's too devilish ugly to live."
+
+The lower sort of the throng laughed uproariously, and turned to
+stare at the poor girl. But cries of "Shame! shame!" rent the air.
+Perrin stepped forward, and, with a well-planted blow and a skilful
+twist of his leg, he threw Dominic to the ground.
+
+"See to the drunken brute!" he cried.
+
+Then he turned to the trembling girl.
+
+"Come, Ellenor," he said, with tender reverence, "come with me, I
+will take you home."
+
+He led her to his mother, who took her up to her own attic and
+helped her to get into bed, for the girl shivered with cold one
+minute and was in a fever the next. Perrin, meanwhile, went off to
+Les Casquets to tell her people that she was safe; and he gave Jean
+the story of the evening, for fear he should hear it from
+strangers. When he came back to the cottage, Mrs. Corbet was in the
+kitchen.
+
+"She's asleep at last! But she's cried till I thought she would die.
+I asked her how it was she made herself in such a state; and then
+she told me all the tale. Silly girl! the very way to upset any man,
+and still more, Le Mierre, to show how ugly she is now before all
+them people. And, besides, it was all like play acting, to my mind!"
+
+"Oh, no, not like that, mother!"
+
+"Wait a bit, wait a bit, till you hears all! It seems, she told me,
+that she planned she'd do this, there's weeks ago, while Le Mierre
+was yet to Jersey, and she had heard he was making love to girls
+there."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Well, listen! She's a strange creature, not like others! It's _my_
+belief she comes from those fairies that built _Les Casquets_. You
+remember Perrin?"
+
+"No, tell me."
+
+"Well, once my great-grandfather was on the beach to Portelet, and
+he saw, a long, long way off a big ship. It came nearer and nearer,
+and it was so big that great-grandfather expected to see it smashed
+on hidden rocks. But, lo and behold, the ship got smaller and at
+last, bah, it looked like the toy of a child, and it ran in on the
+sand, close to great-grandfather. Out of the boat stepped a little
+chap, and would you believe it, the boat was turned into the
+blade-bone of a sheep, all tangled in sea-weed."
+
+"Quick, what happened?"
+
+"Have patience, my son, and don't hurry an old woman. Well,
+great-grandfather asked the little chap where he was going and what
+was his name. And all he would say was "_Je vais cheminant_." But
+he stopped to Guernsey after all and he married a girl from near
+here--and it was him built _Les Casquets_. There! _that's_ where she
+gets her queer ways, Ellenor!"
+
+"And now tell me about her plan."
+
+"Well, it seems she thought, foolish girl, she'd find out, for sure,
+if Le Mierre really loves her or only her looks. And she couldn't
+think of no better way than this mad one. She can't know much of men
+and their ways, her!"
+
+"It's the best thing that could have happened, if only it makes her
+see Le Mierre in his true colours."
+
+"Well, we must hope for the best. And, look here, Perrin! Nothing he
+could do before, no wickedness, no cruelty, could make her leave off
+caring! But we women, if our looks are held up to scorn--well!--that's
+the worst of all. So who can tell what may happen! Come, I must make
+her and give her a cup of tea. She told me she hadn't eaten or drank
+all day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+It was a wild wet night in March. Dominic Le Mierre had just
+finished supper, and he sat by the fire in the kitchen of
+Orvillière; he was in a particularly good mood, owing to the
+excellence of the tobacco he was smoking. As he puffed at his second
+pipe he congratulated himself on his long acquaintance with
+Frenchmen, who had no scruples in giving him whole packages of this
+excellent tobacco; and no conditions attached except the fun of
+helping to hide it in the caves below the Haunted House, till it
+could be conveyed to Brittany!
+
+Then he laughed aloud at the idea of the countryside about this very
+Haunted House. He had added two or three ghost tales to those
+current; and, though he believed firmly in every weird story of the
+two parishes, he had not felt a single scruple in inventing others
+to terrify people from the spot. His love of lawlessness and danger
+was infinitely stronger than his inherited faith in the
+supernatural. The Haunted House brought to his mind the festival of
+_Les Brandons_, when the dreaded place had lost its horror for the
+time being, owing to the safety that is supposed to lie in numbers.
+He chuckled as he remembered what a fool he had made of Ellenor.
+Bah! Once and for all he had done with her! Who cared to look at her
+now, fright that she was! And how dared that pious idiot of a
+fisherman throw him down before all the company! Ah! he would soon
+teach him better manners! he would thrash him well next time they
+met!
+
+So he plotted and thought and smoked, and the night wind howled and
+the rain beat against the windows. All at once, he got up, and from
+the rack fastened across the beamed ceiling he took an old black
+book, his friend and evil counsellor, the _Grand-Mêle_ which had
+been in his family for generations. It was a book of magic,
+containing spells to be used on every conceivable occasion, and
+Dominic Le Mierre was past-master in the black art. Turning over the
+pages with knitted brows, he searched for a spell to be used against
+Perrin Corbet. At last he found it.
+
+"Ah, it is quite easy to draw blood, and it need be but a drop!" he
+muttered, "scratch his hand with my knife and it is done! Then, he
+will walk in his sleep to the Haunted House. There I will meet him!
+Ah, Perrin Corbet, it will be your turn to be down on the ground! I
+will see him to-morrow, and the spell will work for the night.
+_Bon_, nothing could be better!"
+
+He took up his pipe again and smoked in full contentment. A sudden
+stillness had fallen over the wild night. It seemed to Dominic that
+he could hear the moan of the sea. He listened. His blood crept at
+the weird stillness.
+
+Hark! Hush! What was that?
+
+The wild sad cry of a sea-gull. Nearer and nearer it came, and
+Dominic's eyes were fixed in horror upon the uncurtained window.
+The sea-gull came at last quite close, with wilder, sadder cries. It
+flapped its wings and circled round and round the casement. Dominic
+was cold and stiff with terror. He knew who the sea-gull was, but
+what did it mean? Some dreadful thing was drawing near Orvillière.
+
+"Blaisette!" he cried, "I know you well enough! Why do you come
+here?"
+
+Wilder, more despairing grew the cries. Closer and closer the bird
+drew to the panes, striking them with a twang like the sound of wild
+music.
+
+With a curse the master roused himself from the freezing spell. He
+took his loaded gun from its place over the chimney piece. He fired.
+One of the panes of glass was broken. Outside, on the cobbled yard,
+the gull lay dead, its glazed eyes fixed on the house.
+
+With a laugh of triumph, Dominic re-lighted his pipe and sat down
+again by the fire. He had just settled once more to the reading of
+_Grand-Mêle_ when a very tempest of wind and hail shook the house,
+and in the midst of it, a low, sharp knock fell on the house door.
+
+This time, the master was not under a spell. He recognized the
+knock. In an instant he was in the entrance hall and had flung open
+the door. A rough, unkempt fisherman stood on the threshold.
+
+"You must come at once, Monsieur," he cried, "there's been great
+luck! A lot of brandy has been brought, unexpected. It's to the cave
+below the Haunted House. We could have got it up the cliffs alone.
+But we all agreed that you must have your share in the fun."
+
+"Quick! where did the stuff come from?"
+
+"From France, from les Messieurs ----."
+
+"_Bon!_ Will you wait for me?"
+
+"No, my horse is here--tied to the gate. He's impatient, him! I'll
+be off to tell the rest you're coming."
+
+"I'll ride too," and Dominic slammed the door, and hurried to the
+back of the house where his horses were stabled for the night. He
+chose out a fleet white one that was used to wild rushes through the
+dark. Before he mounted, he fastened a pistol to the saddle; but he
+laughed as he did this, it was such a useless precaution. Never once
+yet had the excisemen appeared within miles of the Haunted House.
+With a dark lantern swinging from the saddle bow, he rode out of the
+farmyard and cantered up the hill. Then, urging the white mare to
+her swiftest pace, he flew through steep lanes, past Torteval
+Church, and along the high road to Pleinmont.
+
+The rain poured in torrents. The wind roared and howled. Several
+times the mare paused, trembling. But Dominic lashed her on, and in
+pain and terror she tore across the moorland, striking fire from the
+stones as she flew. He reined her in at last and fastened her to a
+hook in the side wall of the Haunted House. He laughed as he thought
+what a help she would be in keeping all comers away, for she seemed
+to shed a white dim light from her drenched skin, and her loud
+breathing might easily be taken for groans.
+
+He scrambled down the face of the cliff. Fortunately, the wind blew
+in from the sea, and in safety he reached a large cave, brilliant
+with the light of many torches. His boon companions, the roughest
+gangs of the two parishes, greeted him with shouts and jests, and an
+hour of drinking and feasting followed. Then, with no little
+difficulty, kegs of brandy were hauled up the cliffs and deposited
+in the Haunted House. With wonderful skill, the men worked almost
+all the while in the dark, only using lanterns when it was
+absolutely necessary. At last, all the kegs were stowed away. The
+men scattered to fetch their horses from various sheds belonging to
+friendly people, and the master of Orvillière was left alone.
+
+He looked carefully round at the precious kegs stowed half way up
+the walls. Ah--what was that! One of the barrels leaked! Brandy,
+velvety fragrant brandy was oozing out on the earthen floor! He
+knelt down and caught a few drops in his hand. It was superfine, the
+best stuff he had ever tasted. Greedily he drank again and again
+from his hand. But that process was too slow. Catching up a hatchet,
+he enlarged the leak, and throwing himself flat on the ground, he
+lapped the golden spirit that filled him with ecstasy. At last, he
+had had enough. He fumbled at the leak, making futile efforts to
+stop it. But he was too drunk to know what he was about. He had just
+sense enough to darken his lantern, to reel out of the Haunted House
+and fling himself on the drenched grass beside his shivering mare.
+Presently his debauch turned into a heavy sleep, and the hours
+passed. Suddenly he woke and sat up. He heard, quite distinctly, the
+sharp click of a horse's hoof. It had rung through his drunken sleep
+like a knell. He had dreamt he heard again the passing bell that had
+tolled for Blaisette.
+
+All at once the click passed into a smothered sound of pounding and
+slushing. The horse had left the high road and must be on the
+moorland!
+
+Sobered, Le Mierre leapt to his feet, unloosened the mare and jumped
+on her back. He turned her inland and urged her forward. But,
+trembling in every limb, the mare refused to move. Nearer and nearer
+came the pounding of the horse. It stopped. A lantern flashed out.
+Le Mierre saw the figure of a well known exciseman riding a powerful
+black horse. A voice cried above the howling of the wind.
+
+"Give yourself up, and all will be well! I've looked for you far and
+wide. At last I find you. Come, Le Mierre, don't be a fool about
+this. It will only be a fine, and perhaps not even that, if you give
+up the other chaps."
+
+But the master of Orvillière was not to be reasoned with. He was in
+a towering rage. He wrenched the pistol from the saddle. He fired it
+at the exciseman. It missed him. But he, too, lost his temper. In an
+instant he was beside Le Mierre and had dragged the pistol away and
+flung it against the house. Dominic, beside himself and unnerved
+with the night's carouse, grappled with the exciseman and tried to
+throttle him.
+
+A terrible struggle. A wild pounding of hoofs. Cries and oaths. The
+fall of the lantern. Gusts of rain, and wind that shrieked as if an
+agony of warning. Then, the mare broke away at last, in a frenzy of
+terror, and made straight for the edge of the cliffs behind the
+Haunted House.
+
+Not one word came from Dominic Le Mierre as the mare stumbled, fell,
+and, with a horrible, almost human cry, rolled over and over down
+the precipitous height.
+
+The exciseman dismounted, groped for the lantern, lit it, and fought
+his way half down the cliff, at the risk of his life, as the wind
+had changed and was blowing out to sea. But there was not a sign of
+the mare and her rider.
+
+At the earliest streak of dawn, the two parishes were roused, and
+long and careful search went on for days. But it was all in vain.
+Somewhere, in the deep seas, perhaps, the body of the master was at
+rest, but, after "life's fitful fever," did he, indeed "sleep well?"
+
+Orvillière Farm was shut up. The finding of the dead gull, with a
+red wound in its white breast, proved conclusively that foul play
+and magic had been at work on the night of the storm. The servant
+and the housekeeper had been all the evening at a wedding feast, and
+when they returned at five o'clock next morning they found excited
+groups of people all about the farm, and they heard the story of the
+death of Dominic Le Mierre.
+
+No one would dream of living henceforth at Orvillière. It was
+haunted. People who were compelled to pass through the valley at
+nightfall, saw flickering lights moving from window to window of the
+farm, and heard the sudden firing of a gun, and the plaintive cry of
+a wounded bird.
+
+The wind sighed about the lonely spot. The moan of the sea
+penetrated to the solitary farm. But no human creature wept for the
+departed soul of the master of Orvillière. All shuddered at his end.
+Two prayed, in defiance of their scruples, for his wicked, wild
+soul. And these were only an old woman and her fisherman son.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+It was a still, beautiful evening in summer. Perrin Corbet was free
+till ten o'clock, when he would go fishing with Jean Cartier. It was
+very lonely now in the cottage, for Perrin's mother was dead, and he
+spent very little time at home. This special evening he decided to
+make a pilgrimage to the churchyard of St. Pierre du Bois where his
+mother was buried. Her grave was close to the church in a place of
+long grass and overshadowing trees. As Perrin entered the churchyard
+he saw that a woman was bending over the grave: he knew at once who
+it was, and his heart beat quicker. It was so long since he had seen
+her and spoken with her!
+
+When he was quite close, she turned round, and he saw that she had
+been crying. On the grave she had put a rude cross of _immortelles_.
+
+"Ellenor," he said quietly, "I did not expect to see you. I thought
+you were yet in Sark."
+
+"I came back this morning by the early cutter. I was longing to get
+back home."
+
+"And we have been longing for you to come back! It is kind of you to
+put flowers here. Ah, it is always a woman who thinks of those
+things! We are such stupid creatures, we men! She who lies here so
+often said that to me. I miss her more and more, Ellenor."
+
+"Poor Perrin!" she said softly, and for one long moment she looked
+into the faithful face bent over his mother's grave; then she turned
+away with a bitter sigh. Perrin lifted his head; not a thing she
+did, not a movement, not a sigh of hers ever escaped him.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, in his low, kind voice, "are you fretting
+still?"
+
+"No, no, but it seems I can't forget quickly all that has passed."
+
+She covered her face with her hands and shuddered. Perrin touched
+her arm.
+
+"Come and sit in the church porch," he said, "and tell me all about
+it."
+
+Still with her hands covering her face, she let him lead her to the
+old stone seat in the grey porch. Presently, with an evident effort,
+her hands fell from her face, and she clasped them in her lap.
+
+"I am selfish," she said, "never once have I told you how sorry I
+was to hear of your mother's death, it seems I could only think of
+myself."
+
+"I have understood all the time. I knew you would be sad for me.
+But, of course, you could not help thinking most of yourself and of
+what you have lost."
+
+"Ah, how it hurts to hear you say that! Tell me, am I _very_ ugly! I
+know I will get the truth from you."
+
+"Ugly!" he repeated, "_ugly_, to me you are the prettiest woman in
+Guernsey. Your hair, all growing again in dear little dark rings,
+like the curls of a baby! Your eyes once more beautiful with long
+eyelashes; your sad mouth! Ah, Ellenor, how can I speak to you like
+this quietly! I love you more than ever! But I know it is useless!
+Did you think I meant your _looks_ when I spoke of what you had
+lost? Oh, no, I mean something else."
+
+"What is it you mean?"
+
+"That you have lost him you love, Dominic Le Mierre."
+
+For a long while Ellenor did not speak: then she said wearily,
+
+"But it seems to me I don't love him any more. It seems he killed my
+love the night of _Les Brandons_. It was awful when he died. And all
+I could think of was to get away from Guernsey and all the people I
+knew. In Sark, I forgot about him a little. But now I'm back, it
+seems I can't think of nothing else. I am so frightened of him.
+Perhaps, some day, when I'm going by the road to Orvillière, he'll
+come back from the dead and laugh and jeer at me. Because, as for
+him, he didn't love me no more after _Les Brandons_. No, I don't care
+for him now. But I've no heart left, I am only tired, and oh, so
+frightened of _him_!"
+
+She looked at Perrin like a child asking for protection, and in an
+instant his strong arm was round her. She drew a deep sigh of relief
+and smiled a little.
+
+"Let me take of you, my own girl," he said, "I won't bother you to
+try to love me. Please God, that will come in time."
+
+"Yes, please take care of poor me, poor wicked, stupid me," she
+whispered, "you're such a good man. I'm so safe with you. There's
+nobody in all the world I'd trust like you, Perrin."
+
+He drew her head down to his breast, and the still evening breathed
+a benediction over the woman who had sinned and suffered and over
+the man who had loved her throughout with a tender reverence which
+is the very heart of the divinest love.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Where Deep Seas Moan, by E. Gallienne-Robin
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+<pre>
+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Where Deep Seas Moan, by E. Gallienne-Robin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Where Deep Seas Moan
+
+Author: E. Gallienne-Robin
+
+Release Date: November 24, 2008 [EBook #27324]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE DEEP SEAS MOAN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven Gibbs, Karen Dalrymple, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+
+
+<h1>
+WHERE<br />
+DEEP SEAS<br />
+MOAN.
+</h1>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<div class="center">
+BY<br />
+<span class="large">E. GALLIENNE-ROBIN</span>
+</div>
+
+<hr style="width: 15%;" />
+
+<div class="center">
+GUERNSEY:<br />
+FREDERICK CLARKE.<br />
+<span class="smcap">Printer and Publisher</span>.
+
+<hr class="tiny" />
+
+MCMVII.
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<h2><a name="Where_Deep_Seas_Moan" id="Where_Deep_Seas_Moan"></a>"Where Deep Seas Moan."</h2>
+
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/capt.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="T" title="" />
+</div><p>he autumn wind blew in great gusts over the rocky island of
+Guernsey, and in the country parishes rushed up hill and down dale,
+leaving not a lane undisturbed by its vagaries. It rattled the
+leafless trees which grew at the back of Colomberie Farm, whose deep
+brown-thatched roof rested against the lichened red tiles of the
+barn adjoining. Surrounded on all sides by green fields outside its
+charming garden, Colomberie looked the picture of comfort; and its
+cheery interior laughed the wind to scorn as the curtains were drawn
+across the kitchen window, and the <i>cr&acirc;sset</i> was lit at the side of
+the wide hearth. But the wind had its revenge, for it blew across
+the country roads pretty young Blaisette, the daughter of
+Colomberie, who was going out to spend the evening; and who
+struggled with all her healthy vigour against the impertinent
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>buffetting of the bleak north-wester. When she disappeared into a
+sheltered hollow, the wind, hushed and non-plussed for a minute,
+paused to meditate further mischief; then, with regathered rage, it
+tore across country, and boomed, with sullen roar, into a valley
+shut in by brackened and heather-covered hills.</p>
+
+<p>Here, a granite-built house, sheltered under the rocky cliff, had an
+air of stern and unkempt loneliness; and there was something
+sinister about the watermill, whose dingy wheel, green with disuse,
+was close against the side of the building. Yet there was prosperity
+to be read in the large open barn stacked high with corn and hay, in
+the many cows that fed in the meadow below the hill, and in the
+horses that stamped impatiently in the stable.</p>
+
+<p>The master of Orvilli&egrave;re Farm was Dominic Le Mierre, a bachelor, a
+hard worker, and a more than respectable member of the parish of
+Saint Pierre du Bois. It seemed that he did not mind the boisterous
+wind this evening as he ate his supper hurriedly in the gloomy
+kitchen, whose windows shook at every touch of the blast.</p>
+
+<p>Over the hills, and once more across country, the howling wind made
+its way, past the old church of Saint Pierre du Bois, past the lanes
+to Torteval parish, and along the high road to Pleinmont, where it
+had full play over a wide moorland district, dotted with low masses
+of gorze and groups of boulders.</p>
+
+<p>Here, too, was just one little cottage to shake and grip and freeze
+with biting draughts. It stood in a slight hollow on the summit of a
+cliff overlooking Rocquaine Bay. Its mossy thatched roof overhung
+tiny latticed windows, whose panes were golden red from the light of
+<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>the fire of dried sea-weed and furze heaped up on the hearth of
+stone raised above the earthen sanded floor.</p>
+
+<p>Round the fire a group of girls was gathered; for the most part they
+were just homely, pleasant creatures, but two stood out distinctly
+from the rest; one, by reason of her beauty, the other, because of
+her original and perhaps, forbidding, personality. The beautiful
+one, Blaisette Simon, of Colomberie Farm, was small and plump and
+very fair, with cheeks of a rosebud pink and lips full and ripe for
+kisses. The round innocence of her blue eyes looked away all sense
+from the men, so it was said, and she had lovers by the dozen. Added
+to her beauty was the attraction of a very desirable little fortune
+which she had already inherited from her mother, who was dead; and
+by and bye, <i>Mess</i>' Simon would leave her the farm and all his
+money, for she was an only child. She was disposed to be friendly
+with Ellenor, again an only child, the one treasure of Jean and
+Marie Cartier, of Les Casquets Cottage.</p>
+
+<p>People wondered what Blaisette saw in the dark scowling girl, who
+was reserved and offhand with people in general; and probably
+Blaisette herself was puzzled as to <i>why</i> she sought Ellenor so
+constantly. The girls were a distinct contrast, not only in
+character, but in appearance.</p>
+
+<p>Ellenor was tall and angular, with a certain nobility and
+haughtiness of carriage inherited from her fisherman father. Her
+sallow skin, sombre grey eyes and heavy mouth, looked the
+personification of night beside the sunny beauty of Blaisette's blue
+eyes and yellow hair. The girl of the cottage was an excellent foil
+to the girl of Colomberie Farm. Did Blaisette realize, all
+unconsciously, the use of this to her as she went forward
+triumphantly in her victorious path as the belle of two parishes?</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p>
+<p>But to return to the group round the fire.</p>
+
+<p>All at once, by common consent, as it appeared, the girls rose and
+crowded round the entrance. Ellenor lifted the latch, and, flinging
+the door wide open, she stood on the threshold and looked out into
+the inky blackness of the night. The wind howled and moaned as it
+entered the kitchen; and a flash of lightning tore open, for one
+second, the darkness of the sky. After the crash of thunder that
+followed, Blaisette cried in an awestruck voice,</p>
+
+<p>"Surely now, Ellenor, you will not go!"</p>
+
+<p>"Not go!" echoed the girl of the cottage, "not go! but this is the
+very weather to go in! Now, perhaps, you will all believe I fear
+nothing! and if there was need for it I would go bareheaded to Saint
+Peter Port in this deluge!" and she pointed to the sheets of rain
+which swept over the moorland.</p>
+
+<p>Then a small, insignificant voice, coming from a woman who sat in
+the hearth corner, spoke irritably.</p>
+
+<p>"You know, Ellenor, if your father was here, he would not let you
+play such tricks!"</p>
+
+<p>Ellenor faced her mother with rebellion in every feature of her
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"The girls have dared me to go to the Haunted House on this very
+night, and I'll go, mother, if I have to face the devil himself."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Cartier sighed.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you must do as you please, it seems you always do!"</p>
+
+<p>Without further words, Ellenor coiled tighter the thick hair that
+looked too heavy for her small head, stuck through it a dull gold
+pin, and stepped out into the small garden.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p>
+<p>"It has stopped raining," she said sarcastically, "so who will go a
+little way, to see I don't cheat, but go, in reality, to the Haunted
+House?"</p>
+
+<p>After a minute's hesitation, two or three of the girls followed her,
+but Blaisette, with a pretty pout, returned to the <i>jonqui&egrave;re</i> by
+the hearth. Ellenor walked rapidly up the steep path to the summit
+of the cliff, then plunged into the darkness of the moorland.
+Winding in and out amongst gorze bushes, she reached at last a large
+patch of grass. She turned round to the girls who were huddling
+close to her.</p>
+
+<p>"There! in two minutes I'll be to the Haunted House. Listen to the
+sea! We're close to the edge of the cliffs. Come, quick, let's run,
+who knows if I can burst open the door, if I won't see the devil. I
+would wish it, for my part! There'd be a chance to tell him what one
+thinks of him."</p>
+
+<p>Her words wandered away into the night, for the girls, with cries of
+horror, had fled as if evil spirits pursued them.</p>
+
+<p>With a mocking laugh, Ellenor hurried on, then gradually she
+slackened her pace. At last, she groped her way forward with
+outstretched hands, for it was horribly dark. Presently she touched
+the rough stone wall of some building and stopped and listened. Not
+a sound but the wild roar of the waves below the cliffs and the
+gradual lulling of the wind. She groped along the wall, till her
+hands fell a little lower, to a different surface. It was a short
+wooden door. She pushed against it, gently, but it did not yield.
+She felt it across and up and down. There was no latch and she could
+find no keyhole. Again she pushed, this time with all her strength.
+Jerking suddenly, the door opened inwards, and Ellenor, leaning
+against it, fell forward over the high threshold into pitch<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
+darkness. She felt a blinding blow and a sickening pain, and then
+she lost consciousness.</p>
+
+<p>When she came to herself she was first aware of a heavily beamed
+cobwebbed roof, of a dim lantern beside her, of the stifling
+nearness of kegs and bales and boxes, and then of a very familiar
+figure kneeling beside her on one knee.</p>
+
+<p>The man's face that peered into hers was handsome in a heavy
+undeveloped way. Eyes as grey as hers and as sombre scowled from
+underneath dark brows and a dark thatch of hair. His sullen mouth,
+set in a hard angry line, was the finest feature of a clean-shaven
+face.</p>
+
+<p>"You little fool!" he half whispered, "what on earth, or in hell,
+has made you come meddling here, I'd like to know! I've nearly
+killed you!"</p>
+
+<p>With his coarse pocket handkerchief he mopped up the blood that was
+flowing from a cut on her head.</p>
+
+<p>"How did you nearly kill me?" she asked, "what harm have I done?"</p>
+
+<p>"You've come sneaking in here, and in this darkness, and I hit you
+when you banged open the door. It seems you were falling over the
+doorstep. You're pretty pale, my girl, but I believe I know your
+face. Aren't you from Les Casquets?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'm Ellenor Cartier, yes. And you&mdash;you're Monsieur Le Mierre, from
+Orvilli&egrave;re."</p>
+
+<p>He scowled and looked for a minute as if he meditated another
+blow&mdash;then he swore roundly in the Norman-French that he and all the
+islanders spoke.</p>
+
+<p>"How the devil did you know me in this darkness! You're a witch, it
+seems, and it isn't the first time I've thought it. You are not a
+beauty, my girl. But come, tell me, how did you recognize me?"</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p>
+<p>"I've seen you to church, to St. Pierre du Bois, but you were all
+dressed up then; and I've seen you driving to the market of a
+Saturday morning sometimes."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed and bent a little closer. Her eyes were like stars as
+they were lifted to his face. And she did not appear to fear him in
+the very least.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's a joke, isn't it, the difference between Dominic Le
+Mierre of a Sunday and Dominic Le Mierre in this place, my clothes
+all wet with sea-water. And now, tell me, witch, why do you think
+I'm here, in the Haunted House?"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't say, I'm sure."</p>
+
+<p>He was silent, staring hard into the candid, fearless eyes; then
+impulsively he cried,</p>
+
+<p>"I believe I can trust you! But, I warn you, if you let out why I'm
+here, I'll kill you."</p>
+
+<p>"You can trust me. I'd be killed before I'd let out."</p>
+
+<p>A soft shadow darkened the clearness of her eyes: her long eyelashes
+fell before his puzzled stare.</p>
+
+<p>"But why, bah! it appears you're not afraid of me, then! Very well.
+I'll tell you. It is the best way out of the difficulty. But sit up
+against this barrel, and drink a little brandy. I've stopped the
+bleeding in your head with a black enough cobweb."</p>
+
+<p>Ellenor tried to raise herself up, but loss of blood had made her
+giddy, and Dominic put his arm round her and steadied her roughly,
+but not unkindly. Her dark head rested a second against his blue
+jerseyed shoulder, and once more she lifted her eyes to his. With
+brusque and evidently totally unpremeditated passion he kissed her
+red lips.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p>
+<p>"There! didn't I say you are a witch! I could laugh at myself for
+this&mdash;I, Le Mierre, of one of the oldest families of St. Pierre du
+Bois to be kissing a girl like you, a girl who carries fish to
+market, tramp, tramp, all the way in the rain or in the sun! And,
+moreover, I, Le Mierre, oh, so respectable and fine of a Sunday,
+pulling a long face in my pew, and yet, behold, here I am a
+smuggler, keeping guard over brandy and lace and silks! And why the
+devil did I kiss you, for it isn't that you are a pretty girl or
+enticing, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>The girl trembled and turned away her head.</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps I am not pretty, but you've kissed me for all that, and
+better still, you've told me your secret. I think it's a mean thing
+to be a smuggler: but I'd die before I'd tell anyone <i>you</i> was a
+smuggler. That I promise you!"</p>
+
+<p>"Good! And why are you ready to promise me so quick? I'm inclined to
+be afraid you'll let out, after all. I've been a fool to trust you."</p>
+
+<p>He grasped her arm roughly and knitting his brows was buried in
+thought again. But she broke in on his silence, with blazing eyes of
+such beauty that he understood why he had kissed her.</p>
+
+<p>"Not a bit of it, Monsieur Le Mierre! A man is not a fool to trust a
+girl who ... likes ... him!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, that's all very well! How is it you like me? You've never
+spoken to me before."</p>
+
+<p>"I've seen you to church; and one can like people without speaking
+to them."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed. "Perhaps <i>you</i> can, but I can't! Well, the job's done
+now, so I suppose I'll have to trust you. Next time you see me to
+church, you won't believe it's me you've really seen here. But you
+must be off&mdash;or else the other chaps will catch you. Look here, I'm
+sorry I've made your head bleed! and you'll have to tell a pack of
+lies to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> explain why there's a cut under your hair. Are you afraid
+to tell lies, eh?"</p>
+
+<p>"Not to keep you safe."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you're no coward I must say. And now, stop a bit, how much
+money do you expect me to give you to keep a still tongue in your
+head?"</p>
+
+<p>"Money! not a double!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah, I can't believe it, and if ever you need it to help your
+father and mother, you come to me. But quick, you must go, it seems
+to me I hear somebody coming. There, you're over the step, run,
+quick, it <i>is</i> the men, coming up the cliff!"</p>
+
+<p>When she had disappeared into the darkness, Le Mierre muttered to
+himself, "I'm <i>ensorcelai</i>, that's certain, for I've never found out
+what brought the girl here at all!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend.jpg" width="150" height="198" alt="Decoration: flowers in vase" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p>
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER II.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/capi.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="I" title="" />
+</div><p>t was winter, always a time for enjoyment in the days of old
+Guernsey, when evening after evening, people met together at the
+<i>Veilles</i>, to knit and sing and to tell stories of witchcraft and
+weird tales of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Colomberie Farm was glowing with warmth and light, and swarming with
+company on the evening of the twenty-first of December, for it was
+the special festival of <i>longue veille</i>. The spotless wooden table
+in the middle of the sanded floor was piled high with woollen goods
+of every kind, which had been knitted by men and women at former
+<i>veilles</i>. The dark blue of "jerseys" and "guernseys" were an
+effective background for stacks of white woollen stockings and
+scarlet caps.</p>
+
+<p>"My good," said Mrs. Cartier, of Les Casquets Cottage, "there's
+never yet bin so many things for the Christmas Eve market! It's that
+we must have worked well! What do you say, mesdames?"</p>
+
+<p>A torrent of agreement, poured out in Norman-French, swallowed up
+her small pipe; and Mesdames from all the countryside gathered
+closer round the table to inspect the good work and pack<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> it up for
+transmission to market. Mesdames were comely and rosy, excellent and
+thrifty housewives, delighted at the thought of the gold and silver
+that the warm cosy garments represented.</p>
+
+<p>The men of the company stood idly by, flirting and smoking and
+provoking giggles and pretty foolish speeches from the girls, who
+queened it openly on these occasions. Even the elderly men, seated
+on wooden stools in the deep recess of the wide chimney, turned
+their withered nut-cracker faces from the glow of the <i>vraicq</i> fire,
+to smile leniently on "les jeunes gens."</p>
+
+<p>A few serious groups of born story-tellers and eager listeners sat
+on the floor where the flickering light of the <i>cr&acirc;sset</i> shadowed
+and then brightened the healthy beauty of the girls and the warm tan
+of fishermen's faces. Everybody was happy, and gaiety and laughter
+held the night.</p>
+
+<p>But to one girl, joy meant so much that she had crept away with it
+to the dark staircase, spiral and stone, that rose from the wide
+entry to the top of the house. She sat on the third step from the
+floor, and from her position she commanded a full view of half the
+kitchen. Her eyes, deep and dark with excitement, yet almost
+blinding in their gaze of rapture, rested on the face of Dominic Le
+Mierre who sat on the <i>jonqui&egrave;re</i> in the corner of the hearth. He
+was alone and appeared to be absorbed in watching the group of
+story-tellers under the <i>cr&acirc;sset</i>. His sombre handsome face wore an
+expression of extreme boredom. He had said, a few moments ago to
+Ellenor Cartier, the girl on the stairs, that he detested the
+<i>veilles</i>, but that he was bound to be present, as master of
+Orvilli&egrave;re Farm. He had added, moreover, a remark that had flooded
+Ellenor's heart with the joy that had caused her to creep away by
+herself into the darkness.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p>
+<p>It was her presence, he assured her, with a stare into her trusting
+eyes, that drew him to Colomberie Farm to-night, otherwise he would
+have been out fishing beyond Pleinmont Point. Dominic had chuckled
+to himself many times during the past months when he reviewed his
+position towards Ellenor. Since the meeting in the Haunted House, he
+had seen her not a few times, and he had rivetted round her a chain
+which linked her closely to himself. He had exerted the masterful
+fascination which was his to bring her completely under his power.
+Love is a stronger motive than even hate. He made Ellenor love him
+that he might be sure she would keep secret his dealings with
+smugglers. He felt absolutely certain that if once she cared for him
+she would be loyal, even to death. Therefore he fanned the flame of
+the liking she had openly avowed into a wide spreading blaze, which
+might burn up her peace and contentment, for all he cared, he said
+to himself, with a derisive laugh.</p>
+
+<p>In spite of scorn and derision, however, he felt an interest in her
+which was quite foreign to his selfish and exploiting nature. With
+admirable perseverance he crushed every rising of this interest and
+stamped it under foot. But it proved strangely unconquerable, and it
+rose again and again, vital and conflicting, to taunt him with its
+indestructibility. He certainly could not have told himself why he
+liked to meet this girl so often on the sly and why he liked to kiss
+her red lips and make her eyes shine into his. But the fact that he
+<i>did</i> like the meetings and <i>did</i> look forward to the kisses, was
+quite a dominant factor in his life. Still, these things were apart:
+ambition, money, reputation were more to the master of Orvilli&egrave;re
+Farm than all the girls in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> creation. He had not the slightest
+intention of marrying a peasant girl, but he did intend to have a
+rich well-born wife&mdash;a pretty one, if possible.</p>
+
+<p>As he sat on the <i>jonqui&egrave;re</i>, he watched keenly, in a business-like
+spirit, the gay gestures and pretty dimples of Blaisette Simon, who
+was the most eager listener of the story-telling group. He had often
+thought of her as a possible wife. But she was such a universal
+flirt, that, hitherto, he had received no special encouragement.
+To-night, however, he felt inclined to exert the full power of
+attraction which he was quite capable of appreciating and using. All
+women, whether they avow it or not, love to find their master and
+bend to him; and Dominic was of the very essence of virility.
+Indeed, one outspoken girl of Torteval parish said she would rather
+be beaten by Le Mierre than be kissed by a man all gentleness and
+kindness.</p>
+
+<p>In a few minutes, Blaisette had left the story-tellers and joined
+Dominic on the <i>jonqui&egrave;re</i>. She had not the faintest idea how it was
+she had risen to go to him, but his welcome was of the most
+delightful, his voice was tender and deep, his eye spoke eloquently
+of her beauty. Blaisette had never known him in such a compelling
+mood. Her foolish, weak little head was turned; his gross flattery
+was nectar to her greedy vanity. He was generally so taciturn, so
+cold, so aloof. And Blaisette plumed herself on being the cause of
+this wonderful unbending of his. By supper time they had advanced
+into the thick of a serious flirtation: and more than one person
+remarked on the absorbed couple on the <i>jonqui&egrave;re</i>.</p>
+
+<p>Of course Ellenor saw it all, at first with unconcern, then with
+growing alarm. The rapture died out of her face, which stiffened
+into tragic lines of misery and jealousy. Every blush and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> pretty
+gesture of Blaisette's called forth a new expression in the large
+clear eyes of the watcher on the stairs. Hitherto it had not entered
+into her head that Dominic might make her his wife; but, likewise,
+she had never yet pictured a Madame Orvilli&egrave;re who would take up the
+master's time and prevent the stolen meetings that were so dear to
+her. Now, as she watched Dominic's marked attentions to Blaisette,
+as she saw him, more than once, lay his hand on hers, she realized
+the meaning of the scene in the chimney corner. He would marry the
+rich girl. She turned sick and giddy with jealousy. Rising, she
+groped her way into the garden, and, without cloak or hat, she ran
+down the quiet lanes and along the high road to the moorland of
+Pleinmont, where her little home received her with its homely air of
+comfort. She crept up to her attic bedroom, and when her father and
+mother returned home, she would give no account of her sudden
+disappearance from the <i>veille</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"I've brought your cloak and hat," whined Mrs. Cartier, "you must be
+mad to go home without them! But, there, one never knows what you
+will do next."</p>
+
+<p>"Leave the girl alone," broke in the father's voice, "she was tired
+out, she had done the best part of the packing up&mdash;it was Blaisette
+herself told us that. And, Monsieur Le Mierre, he said you were a
+hard-working girl and would make a good servant, if I'd let you go
+out. He laughed when he said this, did Monsieur, and it's my belief
+he'll marry Blaisette before long. It looks as if they meant to keep
+company. Well, good-night, my girl! I must be off fishing in an
+hour!"</p>
+
+<p>Christmas Day, not in the least typical, dawned over the heights of
+Pleinmont in pale gold and soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> grey; and the hours that followed
+were mild and cloudy as those of a day in Spring. The inmates of Les
+Casquets Cottage ate their humble Christmas dinner of a small piece
+of beef and a rough kind of raisin pudding; then Jean and his wife
+composed themselves to the unusual luxury of an afternoon sleep.
+Ellenor was too restless to stay at home. She wandered over the
+cliffs and insensibly she made, at last, for the Haunted House.</p>
+
+<p>She threw herself on the grass at the back of the grim, gaunt
+building, and she tried to collect the miserable, wandering thoughts
+which were forever haunting her&mdash;thoughts of Dominic and Blaisette.
+All at once, a musical whistle startled her, and Le Mierre himself
+came up the cliff, a fish basket slung over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"You here, Ellenor!" he cried, sitting down beside her, "on
+Christmas Day and all alone! Where, then, are all your beaux?"</p>
+
+<p>"You know quite well I've got none, and don't want none, Monsieur,"
+she replied sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, come, do you expect me to believe that of a pretty girl like
+you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Pretty!" she echoed scornfully, "it's your Blaisette Simon that's
+as pretty as a wax doll. It isn't me, Monsieur, with my black
+looks!"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed and put his arm round her. At his touch she trembled and
+a lovely colour rose in her pale face. Then, with slow, and as if
+involuntary, movement, her head nestled against his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p>"That's right!" he said, "now you are a sensible girl. Let's be
+happy while we can. So you call Blaisette <i>mine</i>, do you! What a
+foolish Ellenor to be jealous of her. She's quite different from
+you, can't you see that she doesn't set a man's blood on fire like
+you do, witch?"</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p>
+<p>"That's all very well, Monsieur, but you told father to the <i>veille</i>
+that I would make a good servant and he thought perhaps you would
+wish to engage me for when you marry Blaisette, and I saw you with
+her on the <i>jonqui&egrave;re</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, <i>sorci&egrave;re</i>, is it that I must speak only to you? And what if
+I <i>do</i> marry Blaisette?"</p>
+
+<p>With a quick look into his amused eyes, she lifted her head from his
+shoulder and withdrew from his careless embrace. But it was only for
+a moment. In abandonment of grief and devotion she flung herself
+against his breast.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't care," she sobbed, "if you marry Blaisette! I don't care
+if, even, I come to be your servant, but, for the sake of God, love
+me the best."</p>
+
+<p>He smiled triumphantly over her hidden face and lightly kissed her
+dark hair.</p>
+
+<p>"Good, there you shew sense! But, tell me, you can't be really
+jealous if you're willing for me to marry Blaisette? Why, you might
+even let out about what goes on in this Haunted House, just to vex
+me. And how do I know you won't do it, even yet?"</p>
+
+<p>"I'd die first!" she cried, looking up proudly.</p>
+
+<p>"That's settled then! And now let me tell you a secret, just to
+reward you. I am not even thinking of marriage with Blaisette Simon.
+Come, how many kisses will you give me for that piece of news?"</p>
+
+<p>So heaven opened for Ellenor, and the rest of Christmas Day was
+spent in going over and over again every word he had said to her
+behind the Haunted House. She was unusually amiable at home, and her
+father, who was devoted to her, rejoiced in the sunshine of her
+ready smiles and bright ways.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p>
+<p>This mood lasted but a few days. On New Year's Day she went to
+Colomberie Farm to help in the kitchen, for there was much to be
+done in the way of preparing refreshments for the constant string of
+guests who came to bring greetings and presents to the pretty
+Blaisette, the rich, desirable heiress.</p>
+
+<p>Ellenor's duty was to take fresh relays of cake and wine into the
+best parlour: and towards the end of the afternoon, when it was
+dusk, and the lamps were not yet lit, she entered the room suddenly,
+intent on business. There were only two people seated by the fire.
+One was Blaisette, a vision of dainty prettiness in a new blue gown;
+the other was Dominic Le Mierre.</p>
+
+<p>He held the girl's hand in his. He was bending forward to kiss her
+as Ellenor entered the room. From the heaven of the last few days,
+she fell into a hell of jealousy and bitter hatred of Blaisette. At
+once she turned and fled from the room. It was all very well to
+speak of his marriage with another girl, when she herself was in his
+arms. It was another thing to see him kiss the pink and white face
+of her rival. She could not bear it. Once more she rushed from
+Colomberie Farm in bitter despair and unreasoning grief.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend2.jpg" width="150" height="213" alt="Decoration: flowers in short wide vase" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER III.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/capi.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="I" title="" />
+</div><p>t was Spring. Dominic Le Mierre still played a double game and
+there was no talk of an engagement between Blaisette and himself. He
+met Ellenor secretly; and was often at Colomberie Farm, where he was
+a welcome visitor, not only to the daughter, but to the father, who
+valued the advice and skill of the master of Orvilli&egrave;re in all
+things pertaining to the management of the farm. Now, in the
+springtime, the countryside was stirring into new life, and masters
+and men alike were full of enthusiasm over the tilling of the soil
+and the expectation of good crops to come. Monsieur Le Mierre had
+sent round word to his neighbours that on a certain day in March he
+would hold the working festival of <i>La Grand' Querrue</i>, or <i>The
+Grand Plough</i>. That meant the combination of these neighbours into a
+band of all day workers, for the purpose of deeply trenching a
+certain field in preparation for the cultivation of parsnips. The
+large expensive plough to be used was the joint property of Le
+Mierre and his richer neighbours, and it was, naturally, available
+for each in turn. Every master brought his men and his horses and
+bullocks to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> fray, and at seven o'clock in the morning the work
+and jollity began.</p>
+
+<p>The field to be ploughed lay at the base of cliffs covered with the
+tender grass and golden gorze bushes of early Spring. Deep purple
+scentless violets clustered in sheltered nooks, where granite,
+ivy-covered boulders rose grimly along the slopes and little ravines
+of the cliffs. Primroses, many of them milk white, starred the
+grass; and wild blue hyacinths grew tall and graceful in damp
+patches shaded by stunted trees. But the special field in question
+lay bare to the sky, surrounded by low hedges, and of a rich red
+brown colour.</p>
+
+<p>Six bullocks and sixteen horses drew the large plough, and Dominic
+Le Mierre was captain of the team. He looked his very best, for the
+work drew out the strength and will of the man. The pose of his
+body, the skill of his movements, the carriage of his head, marked
+him as the typical worker of the fields, a very king of farmers. His
+energy and vitality inspired the other men, and no one could believe
+it was time for <i>mi-matin</i> when ten o'clock chimed out from the
+church behind the cliffs. But when the spell of work was broken, the
+men found they were very hungry, and fell upon the bread and butter,
+cheese and strong coffee, with tremendous appetites. These good
+things were brought down in large baskets from Orvilli&egrave;re; and the
+men scattered in little groups as they ate and drank, discussed
+farming, or looked out over the wide sea just beyond the field, and
+wondered if fishing would pay this year.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly Le Mierre gave the call for a return to work, and again the
+glorious ploughing went forward till noon. Then the cattle were
+unharnessed and allowed to feed, two men being left in charge of
+them. The rest of the workers climbed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> the hill to Orvilli&egrave;re, where
+a substantial dinner was provided. There was cabbage soup, a
+<i>p&acirc;lette</i> or big boiled ham, a piece of pork, a round of beef and
+other things loved of Guernseymen, not forgetting copious draughts
+of island cider. Two o'clock saw the men once more at the ploughing,
+and the afternoon dragged a little till four o'clock, when the
+housekeeper and the maids from Orvilli&egrave;re appeared, bringing each
+her large basket of <i>mirelev&eacute;e</i>. This meant tea and currant cake,
+and probably cider. A halt was called. Once more the men grouped
+themselves into unconscious picturesquesness, and ate and drank to
+their fill. But at this <i>al fresco</i> meal a delightful air of
+familiarity and coquetry made itself felt by the presence of the
+rosy maidens from Orvilli&egrave;re; above all by the appearance of
+Blaisette Simon, who brought down a special batch of cakes, made and
+cooked by herself. Le Mierre was at her side at once and a pretty
+flirtation sprang up, for the master was in an excellent temper and
+the girl was marvellously taken by the handsome power and devilry of
+the captain of the work. Never had she seen him look half so well,
+she said to herself. Ah, if he proposed, she would not feel inclined
+to refuse him! She leant over the hedge and looked out to sea, and
+he stood close beside her, his blue jerseyed shoulder brushing the
+stray gold of her hair. Lovers they seemed, even if lovers in
+reality they were not.</p>
+
+<p>So thought Ellenor Cartier as she watched them from the little cove
+below the field. She stood, a solitary figure against the sky, on
+the rough arm of a little harbour where she waited for the return of
+her father from fishing. She had been watching for the red sail of
+his boat since three o'clock, but she had turned many times to send
+hungry,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> lingering looks at the field, above all at the prominent
+figure of Le Mierre. When Blaisette came, in the glory of a new gown
+and a pink sunbonnet, it seemed to Ellenor that life was harder than
+she could bear, for she was shut out from the <i>Grand Plough</i>. Her
+father had not been asked to help, he was too much beneath the rank
+of Le Mierre; therefore no excuse could be framed to admit her into
+the enchanted field. Jealousy sharpened her eyesight, she thought
+she could see the white hand of Blaisette slip through Dominic's
+arm. It was too much. She turned away and looked out to sea, blinded
+by tears.</p>
+
+<p>The red sail of Cartier's boat fluttered in the breeze that blew
+from the land, and with swift grace the little craft came into
+harbour. Ellenor dashed the tears from her eyes and smiled down at
+the men in the boat as they fastened it to a hook in the breakwater
+and climbed up beside her. Her father was her friend, her refuge,
+her comfort; and something of his influence over her seemed to
+belong to the other man, his mate. Perrin Corbet was tall and
+angular, without the slightest pretention to good looks, but with a
+fund of good nature and humour in his grey eyes, and when he smiled
+back at Ellenor a shy tenderness glorified his plain face into
+something far beyond mere beauty of feature.</p>
+
+<p>The men and Ellenor crossed the sandy cove and climbed the winding
+cliff path which led directly past the <i>Grand Plough</i>. Jean and
+Perrin lingered to watch the splendid action of Le Mierre, as, once
+more, he led the line of animals: but Ellenor walked on and never
+even glanced to see if Blaisette were still in the field. She did
+not wait for the men and kept a little ahead of them as she mounted
+the cliff to the moorland above. Her head was bent, her arms hung
+down listlessly.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
+<p>Suddenly, round a bend in the path, a number of children appeared in
+evident high glee. They stopped when they reached the men and
+explained, all speaking at once, that they were going to see <i>La
+Grand' Querrue</i>. Perrin, who loved children, listened patiently to
+the shrill little voices and patted the innocent faces.</p>
+
+<p>"But we can't go on yet!" exclaimed the eldest of the group, "we are
+waiting for little Marie, she stopped to tie up her shoe. Ah, there
+she is!"</p>
+
+<p>Perrin looked up and saw that Ellenor had lifted little Marie in her
+arms and was bringing her to the other children. The golden haired
+baby nestled her head against the girl's breast: and her chubby arm
+was thrown round Ellenor's neck. The two made a sweet picture. The
+girl's sombre face was softened by contrast with the lovely little
+head pressed confidingly against her. The eternal wonder of mother
+and child is seen whenever a woman has a baby in her arms, and
+though Perrin could not have explained the thrill that swept over
+him, he knew in his heart that the sight of the two together moved
+him to an intense longing, an intense reverence. In his nature was
+none of the coarse fibre which so often marks the men whose lives
+are all action, danger and privation. When Ellenor kissed little
+Marie and put her down with a gentleness unusual to herself,
+Perrin's thoughts rang of what she would be as a mother. His heart
+throbbed suddenly as he dared to drag to light a long-hidden
+secret&mdash;kept hitherto from himself. He loved her. He had loved her
+from childhood, when he, a big clumsy boy, had taken her part, and
+fought her battles, at the parish school. He wanted her for his
+wife. He wanted her for the mother of his children.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p>
+<p>Ah, what a picture rose before him as his thoughts painted rapidly!
+A little cottage on the moorland; a rose red <i>vraic</i> fire; Ellenor
+seated in a low chair, beside her a cradle; on her lap, a little
+baby, with wide sad eyes like hers. He saw himself enter the cottage
+and fling his net into a corner; he felt her kiss on his lips,
+and....</p>
+
+<p>"Wake up, Corbet! Not a word have you spoken since we left those
+children&mdash;and what with you as glum as a fish and Ellenor gone in
+front, its precious dull for me!"</p>
+
+<p>Cartier slapped his friend on the back, and Perrin exerted himself
+to chat and laugh. Then, all at once, Jean broke into the talk of
+parish gossip.</p>
+
+<p>"Look here, <i>mon gars</i>, I'm not happy about Ellenor. She is unhappy,
+worse and worse each day; and so bad tempered. You know she never
+gets on with her mother, poor girl; but now, even at me she snaps,
+and, God knows, I love her well, and she loves me."</p>
+
+<p>Perrin was silent.</p>
+
+<p>"Does she treat you properly?" went on Cartier.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, to tell you the truth, she is not very polite at times, but I
+would not blame her. She always looks so sad, and, as you say, worse
+than ever just now. Perhaps she's <i>ensorchelai</i>, who can say!"</p>
+
+<p>"I've thought of that&mdash;perhaps I'll get her to tell me. Well, this
+is your way&mdash;so &agrave; bient&ocirc;t, Perrin, &agrave; bient&ocirc;t!"</p>
+
+<p>Corbet made his way to his home, a cottage not far from the
+outskirts of the moorland at whose edge stood the Haunted House. He
+lived with his mother, a widow and an invalid. She hardly ever left
+the cottage, but she made it a palace of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> happiness to her son. Her
+lovely placid old face brooded over his every want and his every
+look. She lived the life of a saint and had brought up her son to
+fear God and none else. Perrin's religious life was a deep reality
+to him: he never spoke of it, but in it he moved, at home, in the
+conscious joy of the presence of God.</p>
+
+<p>Every night, when his mother had gone to bed in her tiny attic, he
+knelt long beside the <i>jonqui&egrave;re</i> in the corner of the hearth: and
+every night he prayed for Ellenor, naming her softly after the
+beloved word "mother."</p>
+
+<p>But this night. <i>Ellenor</i> was first on his lips. Why was she
+unhappy? Why was she so unkind to the father she loved? Ah, if one
+could see right through her dark eyes into her sorrowful heart, one
+might have a chance of comforting her! But, as it was, one felt
+useless and blundering.</p>
+
+<p>His head bent lower. Broken words came from his lips. A deep
+mysterious silence held the man in awe. It was as though One stood
+beside him while he prayed. And to that One he spoke of Ellenor.</p>
+
+<p>At that very hour she was running quickly along the high road to
+Orvilli&egrave;re. The moon, full and soft as pearl, rode high in the
+cloudless sky. The stars glinted like silver fires. But the beauty
+of the night was lost upon Ellenor. It seemed to her as if she would
+never reach her destination. At last, at last, she was at the top of
+the valley which sloped to the farm! As she ran down hill, she could
+hear the sound of music and the ring of laughter. The <i>Grand Plough</i>
+supper, the <i>finale</i> of the day's work and feasting, was evidently
+in full swing. When she reached the house she crept up to one of the
+windows and peered in. The hired fiddler and man with the flute and
+the man with the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> "serpent" sat on the <i>jonqui&egrave;re</i>. The kitchen was
+full of people, eating and drinking round a long table covered with
+great pieces of meat and puddings of every description.</p>
+
+<p>At the head of the table was Dominic Le Mierre, evidently the worse
+for drink, which, however had not made him idiotic, but which had
+maddened him into wild and extravagant excitement. Beside him was
+Blaisette Simon, dressed in a quaint muslin gown which accentuated
+her childlike and piquante beauty. Her father, easy-going Mess'
+Simon, looked on smilingly at the orgie around him, and seemed not
+in the least disturbed when Dominic drew his arms round Blaisette
+and kissed her repeatedly. She gave an affected little scream and
+pretended to be shocked, but Dominic laughed all the louder, and
+cried to all the guests to drink her health.</p>
+
+<p>And all the while, Ellenor looked on with wide eyes of jealousy. In
+the presence of Dominic she forgot all goodness, all restraint, she
+only longed passionately to be in the place of Blaisette. Not in the
+least knowing what she did, she opened the house door and entered
+the kitchen. At first she was not noticed, so great was the noise
+and misrule. Suddenly Blaisette caught sight of her, and pointed her
+out to Dominic with a foolish giggle.</p>
+
+<p>"I've been told she's mad after you," she whispered, "and it seems
+it's true since she has forced her way into here!"</p>
+
+<p>Dominic was not only furious, but fearful of disclosures. He rose
+unsteadily to his feet, and pointed at Ellenor.</p>
+
+<p>"Be off with you!" he cried, "how dare you come here, you
+<i>impudante</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl of Les Casquets Cottage stood as if turned to stone. She
+did not know what she had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> expected when she entered the room.
+Blind, mad impulse had moved her to a mad act. But this was like
+death to her, this harsh voice, this volley of rough words. When she
+did not move, Dominic reeled down the room, and taking her by the
+shoulders, he pushed her into the entrance hall and locked the
+kitchen door.</p>
+
+<p>When she came to herself, she never dreamt of blaming Dominic.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all <i>her</i> fault!" she said to herself, climbing the hill
+swiftly, "it's every bit her fault; and as sure's as she's alive,
+I'll pay her out!"</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend.jpg" width="150" height="198" alt="Decoration: flowers in vase" title="" />
+</div>
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/capt.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="T" title="" />
+</div><p>he sudden appearance of Ellenor at the Grand Plough supper was
+talked of all over the countryside; and the story of it soon
+penetrated to Les Casquets Cottage. Mrs. Cartier made her usual
+futile remark that "one never knew what the girl would do next," and
+whined and canted about the matter for days together. Jean was very
+angry at Ellenor's want of proper pride in thrusting herself where
+she was not considered good enough to enter; but neither parent
+guessed at the real state of affairs.</p>
+
+<p>Le Mierre managed to waylay Ellenor some days after <i>La Grand'
+Querrue</i>, and a few careless kisses and slighting remarks of
+Blaisette bound the girl of the cottage closer to him than ever. As
+for Dominic, he told himself that he could not and would not give up
+the stolen meetings with Ellenor. They were far too exciting, for
+the girl was one to set a man on fire, with her passionate
+demonstrations of love, and her wild, untamed nature. Thus the
+Spring passed, and the long days of Summer gladdened workers and
+idlers alike.</p>
+
+<p>It was June, and Perrin Corbet was busy day and night at the
+fishing. He and Cartier put<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> away a good bit of money, but they
+never entrusted it to safer keeping than certain old purses locked
+up in their cottage homes. Each man toiled, not to save merely, but
+to keep a sum of money put by for those he cared for. If Perrin had
+hopes of nearer relationship to Cartier, he was doomed to
+disappointment. He had begun to court Ellenor persistently, and she,
+as persistently, shunned him.</p>
+
+<p>One evening, as he was returning from Rocquaine Bay after a long
+day's fishing, he met Ellenor in a shady lane. She had been milking
+and carried on her arm the large shining can which it was her pride
+to keep like silver.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Ellenor?" he said at once, "you look as white as
+death! Is it you are ill?"</p>
+
+<p>She laughed mockingly.</p>
+
+<p>"Have you ever known me to be ill! Surely this warm weather is
+enough to make one look white! And far from being ill, I am much
+amused at what I have seen just now. Will I tell you about it?"</p>
+
+<p>"My good, yes, tell me, I am only too pleased if you talk to me.
+Shall we go up to Les Casquets together? I was going there to see
+your father."</p>
+
+<p>As they walked side by side she began to speak rapidly.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, this amusing thing I have seen! Listen! I was at the top of
+the valley that leads to Orvilli&egrave;re Farm this morning when, all at
+once, I saw a cart coming along. In it was a big chest made of oak
+and carved all over; and besides there was a box covered with
+leather and all over brass nails. Of course one knew at once what
+that meant! In the chest and in the box there was the linen for the
+house of some woman who was soon to be married, and it was being
+taken to the house of the bridegroom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> Sure enough, it seems I was
+right, for tied to the cart behind was the cow the father of the
+bride would give! Then, close to the cart, on the side, there was a
+girl I knew. She was the nearest woman relation of Blaisette Simon,
+and she was carrying a looking glass. I knew what all those things
+meant&mdash;a marriage soon to take place. So I looked again, and I saw
+that the man who was leading the cart was Dominic Le Mierre, the
+master of Orvilli&egrave;re, and he turned down the hill that leads to the
+farm. He didn't see me&mdash;him&mdash;he was chatting and laughing with the
+girl cousin of Blaisette, and telling her not to let the looking
+glass fall, or that would be bad luck. Now, Perrin Corbet, tell me,
+what do you think all that means?"</p>
+
+<p>She breathed quickly and turned her face away from him.</p>
+
+<p>"Means!" echoed the fisherman, "of course it means only one thing,
+that there will soon be a wedding, that the bride will be Blaisette
+Simon and the bridegroom will be Dominic Le Mierre. But why do you
+ask me? You said you knew yourself what it meant when you saw the
+chest in the cart!"</p>
+
+<p>"Bah, don't be so stupid and tease me like that! There might be some
+mistake. And what do I care if she does marry him?"</p>
+
+<p>"I wonder you haven't heard it talked of before, Ellenor, for all
+Torteval has said long ago they would make a match."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, let people chat as much as they like! <i>He</i> don't care for
+her, that I know. It's only her money he's after. She is a silly
+little fool, all pink and white and yellow hair."</p>
+
+<p>"Perhaps! But all we men can see that she is a very pretty girl. And
+how do you know he don't care for her, eh?"</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p>
+<p>"How dare you to question me like this! Never mind how I know, but I
+do."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, my girl, I can tell you all about it. It would seem that Le
+Mierre has been making a fool of you. All Torteval knows it. And
+there's times and times I've seen you together; and him making love
+to you."</p>
+
+<p>"You're a sneak and a liar! So you've spied on us, Perrin Corbet,
+have you?"</p>
+
+<p>The fisherman was absolutely unmoved by her rudeness. His love was
+beyond and above any feeling of even proper pride.</p>
+
+<p>"I've not spied on you at all, but it wasn't my fault if you didn't
+see me; and you never gave me a chance of telling you all this
+before. He's sure and certain to marry Blaisette. It's as good as if
+she was his wife now you've seen the cart taking the linen to
+Orvilli&egrave;re. Don't be vexed with me. It's for your good I speak. You
+know how I love you, Ellenor."</p>
+
+<p>"Bah, who cares for your love! I was a fool to tell you the amusing
+thing I've seen. And I tell you, once more, he don't love Blaisette
+Simon."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, have it your own way! I've nothing more to say about the
+marriage. But I've a mind to go to warn Blaisette about her husband
+to be."</p>
+
+<p>Ellenor turned on Perrin a look of wild terror and anger.</p>
+
+<p>"If I could, I'd kill you, because I hate you so! You would go to
+tell Blaisette that you've seen me and him together!"</p>
+
+<p>"I would do no such thing. But I would wish to warn her that Dominic
+is mixed up with smugglers."</p>
+
+<p>A dead silence was at last broken by Ellenor's husky words.</p>
+
+<p>"How do you know he's mixed up with smugglers?"</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Listen to my tale this time," he said, "but it isn't at all
+amusing. One night I was off the point of the cliffs below the
+Haunted House. I was in my boat, fishing for <i>bream</i>. It was full
+moon, but me and my boat were in shadow. None could see us. By and
+bye&mdash;I saw a long, narrow boat shoot out from a cave not far off
+from me. In it were three or four black looking foreigners. They
+pushed their boat close under the cliffs and waited, full an hour.
+Then, by and bye, down came Le Mierre and another man with bundles
+of silk, or what looked like it ... and the fellow in the boat got
+up and caught hold of the bundles and went off with them like the
+very devil. Le Mierre and his man were up the cliff again before I
+could whistle to them that I was by. I've meant to tell Le Mierre
+some day; and it seems to me now's the time for him and his girl to
+know."</p>
+
+<p>"And what good would that be, I'd like to be told! He'd only do his
+best to pay you out for being a sneak."</p>
+
+<p>"I've thought, too, of letting the constables of the parish know of
+it," pursued Corbet quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"And a fine row there'd be! Do you think you, a poor fisherman,
+would be believed when you went to tell tales of him, a rich farmer!
+Bah, you must be mad, Perrin Corbet."</p>
+
+<p>Now the fisherman had all the island reverence for his betters. He
+really spoke to ease his mind; but he was very far from longing to
+deliver up Dominic to justice, in spite of the pricking of his
+conscience, which whispered to him that he was like an accomplice in
+a crime if he did not tell of the smuggling business. He was silent
+now, and Ellenor began to speak again.</p>
+
+<p>"If you take my advice you won't meddle with Monsieur Le Mierre at
+all. Are you forgetting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> that his family has always been well known
+for its wizards and witches? Bah, Perrin, have you so soon forgotten
+how the grandfather of Monsieur used to throw black powder on people
+if they offended him, and then they would be taken ill all of a
+sudden? And over and over again, at the <i>Sabbat des Sorciers</i> of a
+Friday night on Cati&ocirc;roc Hill, the very mother of Dominic has been
+seen, dancing with all the rest!"</p>
+
+<p>Perrin stopped short and whistled.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, you won't hardly believe me, but I had quite forgotten! Of
+course now I remember all you say. No, no, I can't meddle with him.
+His whole family has always been known to have dealings with the
+devil. Well, here we are to Les Casquets, let's go in and perhaps
+your mother will give me a cup of tea."</p>
+
+<p>"Go in by yourself, if you like! As for me, I'm off, &agrave; bient&ocirc;t,
+Perrin!"</p>
+
+<p>Ellenor walked slowly in the direction which would lead her furthest
+away from the cottage. She wound in and out of low, prickly gorze
+bushes covering the moorland till she reached Pleinmont Point, then
+she ran down a gently sloping grass valley till she got to the sea.
+She had an appointment with Dominic at Pezerie, the bottom of the
+valley which skirted the rocky coast. It was blowing hard, and yet a
+dense mist hung over the sea. Once, like a ghost, a boat with a
+velvety brown sail, flitted across the Pezerie outlook. A bell
+tolled from Hanois Lighthouse.</p>
+
+<p>Ellenor shivered, and cruel forebodings took hold of her. Then, all
+at once, it was brilliant sunshine in her heart, for Dominic came
+running down the valley and clasped her in his arms. With sobs and
+passionate words of reproach and love, she asked him if it was true
+he was going to marry Blaisette.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Little silly child!" he said, with a laugh, "of course it is not
+true! There was no thought of <i>my</i> marriage when I led the cart. I
+was just helping the cousin of Blaisette; one does not always
+exactly keep to old customs."</p>
+
+<p>Then she told him of Perrin and the smuggling; and he called her a
+clever <i>garce</i> for stopping Corbet's mouth. He was in the gayest and
+most fascinating of moods, and Ellenor was in a heaven of joy, for
+his caresses and words had never before been so tender. It was late
+before they parted. He could not see her again for a few days, he
+explained, as he had special business on hand.</p>
+
+<p>The next day, when Ellenor was knitting outside Les Casquets, a
+messenger arrived from Orvilli&egrave;re. He brought an invitation to Jean
+Cartier and to his wife and daughter, to attend the wedding of
+Monsieur Dominic Le Mierre and Mademoiselle Blaisette Simon.</p>
+
+<p>She stood up straight and tall to receive the blow. She did not
+flinch. Only her face was grey as ashes; and her large eyes looked
+like those of a hunted animal, as she accepted the invitation for
+her parents and herself.</p>
+
+<p>The wedding was fixed for that day week, and all the parish, indeed
+the two parishes of Saint Pierre du Bois and Torteval, were wild
+with excitement. Hundreds of people were invited; and for days
+before the ceremony the water lanes and marshes were visited by
+bands of young people eager to gather the <i>gllajeurs</i>, or wild marsh
+iris, to strew before the bride and bridegroom when they would leave
+the church.</p>
+
+<p>It was a lovely morning when Dominic stood before the altar in the
+old church of Saint Pierre du Bois and vowed to love and cherish
+fair Blaisette, a picture of sweet gentleness, and pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> coquetry
+in her fair white bridal gown. But the sun was black and the sky was
+lead to Ellenor, as she watched the bride and bridegroom walk down
+the aisle together, man and wife, arm in arm. She could have touched
+the bride, so close she stood to her as she passed; and Dominic's
+eyes fell upon her with a stony stare. For a maddening moment,
+Ellenor thought she would die. Then, her proud spirit re-asserted
+itself. She would go through the day carrying aloft her banner of
+self-respect. She would march to battle as if to the sound of music.
+As she made this resolution, a murmur of almost horror reached her
+from outside the church. She hastened to the porch in time to see
+that Blaisette was crying.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" she whispered to Perrin Corbet, who, all unnoticed,
+had kept close to her during the ceremony.</p>
+
+<p>"It's that she has remembered suddenly she came to the church a
+different way from what she does on Sundays. And of course we know
+it's dreadful bad luck, poor girl! It's certain there'll be
+something happen before the year is out."</p>
+
+<p>A gleam of joy lit up Ellenor's pale face.</p>
+
+<p>"Come along, Perrin, let's be off to Orvilli&egrave;re&mdash;there's not too
+much time before dinner."</p>
+
+<p>Corbet looked at her doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p>"But, aren't you going to put on a different gown?"</p>
+
+<p>"And, pray, <i>impudant</i>, why, I'd like to know! This one is silk, and
+what more do you want?"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the colour I don't like! Scarlet for a day like this! You
+ought to be in white."</p>
+
+<p>But Ellenor only laughed at him. Not she give up her scarlet gown
+made of silk that Dominic had given her one night in the Haunted
+House!</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
+<p>Orvilli&egrave;re Farm was gay, outside and in, with garlands and crowns of
+flowers; and in the kitchen and in the field beside the house,
+tables were laid for the customary dinner of roast beef and mutton,
+plum pudding and <i>g&acirc;che &agrave; cor&icirc;nthe</i>. Cider flowed liberally; and,
+after dinner, the guests were in fitting mood for the games that
+followed till tea-time. Then all the evening long, dancing waxed
+fast and furious, with intervals for songs. Dominic delighted the
+company by giving Ellenor a sounding kiss when she chose him for her
+partner in&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Saluez, messieurs et dames,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Ah! mon beau laurier!"<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>and all the company then shouted in chorus&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<span class="i0">"Entr'embrassez-vous par le jeu d'amourette,<br /></span>
+<span class="i0">Entr'embrassez-vous par le jeu d'amour."<br /></span>
+</div></div>
+
+<p>But it is certain Ellenor would not have dared to choose the
+bridegroom had he not been half drunk. Perrin Corbet, a sober man
+himself, looked on in disgust; and glanced at Blaisette to see how
+she took it. But she was giggling as usual, and drinking mulled wine
+from one of the new wedding cups.</p>
+
+<p>At five in the morning the wedding party broke up; and all the
+guests said that Ellenor Cartier was a shameless girl. Perrin heard
+and clenched his fist.</p>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend3.jpg" width="150" height="79" alt="Decoration:scrollwork" title="" />
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER V.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/capq.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="Q" title="" />
+</div><p>uick! get up, Ellenor, you must have overslept yourself!" cried
+Jean Cartier one morning in August, as he woke his daughter with a
+loud knocking on the partition between the attic bedrooms of the
+cottage.</p>
+
+<p>"It's all right, father," the girl called in reply, "I've been up
+there's a long time, but I am putting the roses round my hat. The
+breakfast will be ready as soon as you're down."</p>
+
+<p>Jean dressed in particularly old clothes, and Mrs. Cartier chose out
+the shabbiest skirt she possessed, for they were preparing for a day
+of hard work on the beach. But, to their surprise, when they came
+down to breakfast, Ellenor wore a pretty gown of dark red stuff. She
+explained, carelessly, that indeed <i>she</i> would not make herself a
+fright before all the countryside; and if the gown was spoilt, well,
+it couldn't be helped. Her parents said nothing, for Ellenor's
+temper was more uncertain than ever, and they dreaded an outbreak;
+but Mrs. Cartier had her suspicions.</p>
+
+<p>After breakfast the three started for Rocquaine Bay, where a lively
+scene was being played, for it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> was the time of <i>vraicing</i> or
+sea-weed harvest. Lines of carts were ranged above high-water mark,
+and the patient horses were decked with flowers. The beach and sands
+swarmed with people all smiling and gay, and for the most part
+wearing nosegays. Rich and poor from two parishes chatted, laughed
+and worked hard with sickles at cutting the <i>vraic sci&eacute;</i> from the
+low rocks. Very soon, the beach was dotted with heaps of sea-weed,
+each marked by a pebble, bearing the owner's name in chalk. The more
+adventurous waded across the <i>cols</i> or causeways to rocks at some
+distance from the shore and found rich stores of golden weed.
+Amongst these adventurous spirits was Ellenor. She had persuaded one
+of the farmers to take her on his horse to a high group of rocks,
+hidden from the beach by Rocquaine Tower, and here she worked
+undisturbed, and in full possession of a wonderful growth of
+<i>vraic</i>.</p>
+
+<p>She took off her hat, and her hair curled about her forehead in damp
+little rings, for the sun was scorching. A dusky red glowed in her
+tan cheeks; her eyes, shining with excitement and the joy of work,
+followed the skilled movements of the sickle she swung to and fro,
+and she was entirely absorbed in gathering in the precious <i>vraic</i>.
+But, all at once, she paused. She heard, distinctly, the splash of
+horse's feet. Someone was coming to interrupt her and share her
+harvest. She would not have it! She had first thought of these
+rocks! She would fight for her rights!</p>
+
+<p>The splashing came nearer. She did not turn round. A scrambling
+sound followed; then she heard heavy steps mount the rocks.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellenor," said a well-known voice, "what luck to find you quite
+alone here!"</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+<p>It was Dominic Le Mierre, and it was the first time the two had met
+alone since his wedding day. He took her hand and smiled into her
+eyes, which filled with tears.</p>
+
+<p>"You cheated me," she said, "you told me you were not going to marry
+her."</p>
+
+<p>He laughed and stooped to kiss her.</p>
+
+<p>"You silly girl! If I had told you I'd never have got so many kisses
+from you, and you wouldn't have liked that, eh! What difference does
+this marriage make to you and me, I'd like to know! Besides, don't
+pretend to be so good all of a sudden. Didn't you choose me at my
+wedding feast, and didn't I kiss you before everybody? Not that I
+remember it too well, for I had had a little drop, but I've been
+told of it since."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, I was mad that night&mdash;mad with jealousy!"</p>
+
+<p>"Go on being mad!" he cried, "how well you look in that red gown,
+though it's a common rag besides the fine clothes of my
+milk-and-water wife. Bah, what a fool she is! Don't you know I
+married her for money and for her good family? But she is like a
+silly baby. Her pretty face doesn't touch me. She might stare at me
+for ever with her eyes of blue china, and my blood would lie quiet
+like a stagnant pond. As for you, witch, your eyes burn into me and
+set me in a blaze. And I vow you'll have to meet me pretty often.
+Where shall we agree to see each other to-morrow night?"</p>
+
+<p>"Nowhere," she replied sulkily.</p>
+
+<p>"I like that! What new trick are you up to now, pretending you don't
+want to meet me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I <i>do</i> want to meet you!" she cried passionately, "but I've got a
+little bit of pride left,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> and I'm decided not to meet a married man
+on the sly!"</p>
+
+<p>He scowled and crushed her hands in his.</p>
+
+<p>"You know your character is gone as it is. You're talked of all over
+the parishes, people say you're mad after me&mdash;so, I'd just like to
+know what difference not meeting me will make."</p>
+
+<p>"I'm decided not to do it."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well, my fine lady, we'll see about that. Ah, you little fool,
+you've wasted the time and now I must go back, my horse is already
+up to his knees in water. And how will <i>you</i> get back, I'd like to
+know!"</p>
+
+<p>"Perrin Corbet is coming to fetch me. Look, here he is."</p>
+
+<p>A quarter of an hour later, all the <i>vraicqueurs</i> were gathered
+together on the beach to eat their meal in common. Every woman had
+brought <i>g&acirc;che</i>, biscuits and special <i>vraicquing</i> cakes: while the
+rich farmers had provided a plentiful supply of cider which had been
+brought down in little barrels swung to the carts. It was a merry
+time, and Blaisette Le Mierre was looked upon as the queen of the
+feast. Very few spoke to Ellenor, for she was shunned as a marked
+character. Only Perrin paid her every attention, and saw that she
+had everything of the best. As for Dominic, it appeared as if he did
+not even see her: and people said he had been persecuted and waylaid
+by Miss Ellenor, for it was evident he did not care a straw for such
+a girl.</p>
+
+<p>After the meal, some of the men carted away the <i>vraic</i> to the farms
+over the cliffs, where it would be used to enrich the land. Others,
+with the help of the women, spread out the sea-weed, which was
+stored in heaps on the beach to dry. This, later on, would be used
+for fuel, and would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> give out its peculiar pungent smell, so dear
+and memory-stirring to all Channel Islanders.</p>
+
+<p>So the <i>vraicquing</i> festival ended; and that night Ellenor sobbed
+herself to sleep, a passionate weary creature, too proud to bend to
+God and turn to goodness.</p>
+
+<p>It was November; and one evening as Perrin Corbet was crossing a
+hill on his return home from fishing, he thought he heard a low
+moaning. He stopped and listened. Was it the cry of a sea-gull
+flying into shelter from the storm which was approaching? Was it,
+perhaps, the spirit of some drowned fisherman haunting his house?
+No&mdash;it was the voice of a living woman in distress! He waited, and
+gradually traced the sound to a huge cromlech on the hill. He
+stopped at the entrance.</p>
+
+<p>"It is I, Perrin Corbet!" he said quietly, "is anyone in trouble?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, yes!" answered an eager voice, "come in and speak to
+me&mdash;Ellenor."</p>
+
+<p>"My dear girl," went on the fisherman's even voice, "what are you
+doing here?"</p>
+
+<p>"I've been hiding, there's an hour, from Dominic Le Mierre. Ah, it
+is no use, I must tell you all, for you never scold me and look
+black at me, like all the rest do. I said I wouldn't meet him now
+he's married, but the more I keep out of his way, the more it seems
+he finds me out."</p>
+
+<p>"Then you don't care for him no more, like all Torteval said you
+did?"</p>
+
+<p>"Care for him! Care! I love him with all my soul!"</p>
+
+<p>"And him such a black character, and a smuggler! There's times and
+times I've seen him again to the cliffs with queer fellows; and
+others have seen him, too. But nobody likes to give him up to the
+constables, except me, and I've settled it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> that I'll tell what he
+is after. He deserves it, the way he treats you. And it will be a
+fine way of disgracing him. I'll risk that he'll bewitch me."</p>
+
+<p>A dead silence followed his words. Then Ellenor's hand stole into
+his, and Ellenor's voice said softly,</p>
+
+<p>"Perrin, is it you love me yet?"</p>
+
+<p>He lifted her hand and kissed it.</p>
+
+<p>"I love you better than even my mother. I love you next best to
+God."</p>
+
+<p>"And yet, Perrin, I am not a good girl."</p>
+
+<p>"Don't dare to say that to me! You <i>are</i> good when you are not
+thinking of that scoundrel. It's him that has made people speak
+about you like they do! But, listen, Ellenor, if you was the
+blackest of the black, I'd love you, because it's you, and because I
+was made to love you, once and for ever."</p>
+
+<p>She burst into a passion of tears.</p>
+
+<p>"That's how I love him! He's the blackest of the black&mdash;a liar, a
+smuggler, a cheat to his wife and to me, too fond of his glass,
+cruel to the poor, mad for money, pretending to be pious of a
+Sunday; and yet, yet, I love him, because it's him, and because I
+was made to love him, once and for ever."</p>
+
+<p>"My God! how you hurt me!" cried poor Perrin, clasping her hand
+closer in his.</p>
+
+<p>She cried quietly for a little while, and Corbet did not try to
+check her tears. His tender love made him wise and gentle as his own
+mother. At last she was quite still, and presently she said,</p>
+
+<p>"Perrin, if you love me, I'll be your wife some day."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really mean it? It seems too good to be true. I can't take
+it in, as you see. And yet if it does come to pass, there'll be no
+man prouder than me in the whole of Guernsey!"</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p>
+<p>"But, if I am to be your wife, there'll be a condition."</p>
+
+<p>"Condition! You can make a hundred, dear Ellenor."</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know if you'll agree to this one, however!"</p>
+
+<p>"Of course I will! I promise you beforehand."</p>
+
+<p>"Promise! Promise! Quickly!"</p>
+
+<p>He laughed gaily, wild with joy at her sweet mood and at the fair
+prospect the future held for him.</p>
+
+<p>"I promise I'll agree gladly to your condition, whatever it is."</p>
+
+<p>"Then listen to it. You have promised you'll never give up Monsieur
+Le Mierre to the constables."</p>
+
+<p>Perrin was silent for a long time; then he said, in a voice hoarse
+with emotion,</p>
+
+<p>"It seems I am a very stupid chap, and it takes me a little while to
+see what a woman is driving at. But though you are too clever for
+me, Ellenor, and caught me in a fine trap, I can make out the
+reason, the only reason, why you will be my wife. It is to save Le
+Mierre from disgrace."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes," she replied, "it is; and there is yet one more reason. I
+can't live to Les Casquets any longer. I'm too unhappy. Mother is
+always telling me what people say about me; no other tune do I hear
+all day long."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it's quite plain you don't care a <i>double</i> for me; but,
+still, I can take care of you, give you a home and thus stop the
+wagging of all the tongues in the parish. But, Ellenor, there is one
+thing I must speak about. I am willing to know you don't love me;
+willing to know you've given your heart to another man, and him a
+scoundrel. But, I couldn't stand it if you had meetings with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> him
+when you will be my wife, the daughter of my dear old mother. I'd
+kill you, I believe. God forgive me, if such a thing happened."</p>
+
+<p>"You needn't be afraid," she said in a dreary, colourless voice,
+"since now I am always getting out of his way. There is left a
+little pride in me yet. I can't bring such disgrace on my father.
+But every day I cry because I can't see him."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, I am satisfied! After all we know what each other means. And
+now, when will it be, this wedding of ours?"</p>
+
+<p>He tried to speak gaily, poor Perrin, but it was sad work. He
+succeeded at last in persuading her to agree to be married on
+Christmas Day: and then, fearful that she would change her mind, he
+said he would take her home at once, for it was getting late.</p>
+
+<p>As they descended the hill and crossed the bay, Perrin pointed out
+the gleaming of a light on Lihou, an islet within a stone's throw of
+Guernsey.</p>
+
+<p>"It seems that Le Mierre is living there just now to work at the
+iodine. His wife is with him. She is very delicate, it would appear,
+and not very happy, poor pretty Blaisette!"</p>
+
+<p>"Does he beat her?"</p>
+
+<p>"So people say. I can believe anything bad of Le Mierre."</p>
+
+<p>"It is not surprising. How bad I must be to love such a man! Perrin,
+why didn't God let me&mdash;<i>make</i> me, love you instead?"</p>
+
+<p>Was this sad gentle voice in reality Ellenor's? Was this nestling
+hand hers? Did it really creep through his arm?</p>
+
+<p>"My girl, we must not dictate to God about what He does! I confess I
+don't understand half He lets happen to us. But I couldn't question
+it."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Poor Perrin!" she went on softly, "to care for me, of all the girls
+in the two parishes."</p>
+
+<p>"I wouldn't change you for the Queen on her throne?"</p>
+
+<p>He caught her to his breast and folded her to his heart. In the
+heaven of his faithful love she felt, at least, safe from her own
+lurid passion, and at rest from the biting remarks of her little
+world.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend.jpg" width="150" height="198" alt="Decoration: flowers in vase" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/capi.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="I" title="" />
+</div><p>t was the night of Christmas Eve and the snow fell thick and fast.
+This weather, so unusual in the Channel Isles, had delayed Perrin
+Corbet in the little town of Saint Pierre Port, and it was past ten
+o'clock when he reached home. His mother had gone to bed, but not
+before she had prepared her son's supper and left the little kitchen
+the picture of comfort. After his meal, Perrin turned the lamp low,
+lit his pipe, and sat down in his mother's arm-chair before the
+<i>vraicq</i> fire. The wind moaned in the huge chimney, with a cradling
+sound, but Perrin was not in the least inclined to sleep. To-morrow
+would be his wedding day. He could not realize it; he could not
+believe he would so soon reach the height of joy. He tried to
+picture to-morrow. Ellenor, in the white gown she had described to
+him, would stand before the altar, and he, her devoted lover, would
+take her hand and declare, before God and before the world, that she
+was to be his wife.</p>
+
+<p>Then, the rest of the day would be spent in quiet joy at Les
+Casquets Cottage, with his mother as the only guest of the Cartiers.
+He pictured the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> moment when he would say, taking out his watch,
+"Now, mother, now, Ellenor, it is time for us to go home."</p>
+
+<p>He would light the lantern, and with those two women, so dear, so
+precious, he would return to this very cottage, henceforth to be a
+palace to him, since Ellenor, his queen, would be his wife. He would
+deal so tenderly with her, for she had suffered much, his poor
+Ellenor! He would never reproach her if she seemed to fret after
+Dominic. She could not uproot, all at once, such a deep love. He
+would lead her gently back to the ways of religion which she had
+deserted. He would remind her, one quiet evening, that she was of
+those who were admitted to The Holy Supper of the Lord, for had she
+not been confirmed at the same time as he had? And, please God, she
+would listen to him. Perhaps, in days to come, she would learn to
+love him a little. Perhaps that joy would be his when baby hands
+clasped his rough brown fingers and a rosy baby mouth kissed his
+adoring lips!</p>
+
+<p>His pipe was out; and his head was bent as he dreamed of the morrow,
+his wedding day. For a moment, the wind had ceased its moaning and a
+deep stillness enfolded the cottage.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, a sharp tap rang through the kitchen. Perrin started, his
+dreams scattered. He listened, breathless, his island blood frozen,
+his Celtic temperament at once calling up visions of the
+supernatural.</p>
+
+<p>Again the tap sounded on the window; and this time, a familiar voice
+re-assured Perrin.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me in, Corbet, quick, I bring bad news."</p>
+
+<p>In a moment Cartier stood in the kitchen and cried breathlessly,</p>
+
+<p>"Have you seen Ellenor? She hasn't been home since early this
+afternoon!"</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+<p>The ruddy colour left Perrin's tanned face.</p>
+
+<p>"My God, no, I haven't seen her! What, then, can have happened?"</p>
+
+<p>Then, with graphic, trembling words, Jean told how Ellenor had gone
+to Saint Pierre to buy some finery for her wedding bonnet; how, hour
+after hour, when the snow was thick and the wind howled over the
+moorland, she had been anxiously looked for; how, at last, in
+despair, he had said to his wife that he would go to Perrin, for
+they must be off to look for Ellenor all the way to Saint Pierre
+Port.</p>
+
+<p>At once, Corbet went upstairs, and, waking his mother, told her the
+story of his girl's mysterious disappearance.</p>
+
+<p>"We'll go round to Les Casquets and bring Mrs. Cartier over here,
+mother. She's a poor creature, and she can't be left alone. Who can
+tell when Cartier and I will be back!"</p>
+
+<p>It was two o'clock before the men started to walk to Saint Pierre
+Port. It was brilliant moonlight at four o'clock, and the gusts of
+snow had died away with the wind; but the men searched, in vain, for
+any trace of Ellenor. As soon as it was dawn, the two parishes were
+roused, and those who were kind helped to look for the missing girl.
+The rest shrugged their shoulders and said that Christmas Day was
+not meant to be wasted in such a search, for such a queer wild girl
+as Ellenor Cartier. At last a child found in a hedge a paper bag: it
+contained a spray of artificial flowers, a few drenched roses. The
+child's mother guessed this must be the finery Ellenor had gone to
+buy, for everyone knew the pitiful story by now. But the hedge was
+ominously near Rocquaine Bay. What did this mean?</p>
+
+<p>After three days of minute search, the band of men gave up in
+despair; and Jean and Perrin<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> went back to the routine of daily work
+in dogged and patient despair. The fisherman wondered if Le Mierre
+had heard the news, shut up in Lihou Island, where his wife lay very
+ill of small-pox, which was raging in different parts of Guernsey.
+Finally Jean unburdened his mind to his friend and talked with him
+of Ellenor's infatuation for Dominic. Would it be that she had
+drowned herself to be rid of the torture of her life?</p>
+
+<p>Perrin was haunted perpetually by this idea: it was with him by day
+and by night. He went about like a man who was half asleep, and
+people began to complain that he did not even nod to his
+acquaintances when he met them. So the Christmas season passed and
+it was the last day of the Old Year. The cold and the snow
+disappeared, and the weather was mild and calm as Perrin rowed
+homewards about four o'clock in the afternoon. He had been to pull
+up his lobster pots which had been put down not far from Lihou
+island. Buried in thought, he did not notice how close he was rowing
+to the reef of rocks off the north of the island, till a loud cry
+startled him and he saw that someone was signalling to him from a
+jutting rock close to his boat. It was a woman. It was Ellenor
+Cartier.</p>
+
+<p>Mad with joy, Perrin brought his boat into a tiny creek, moored it
+and scrambled up the rocks to the girl's side.</p>
+
+<p>"Don't come near me!" she cried, "for the sake of your mother! I am
+minding Blaisette. She is ill, dreadfully, dreadfully ill. If she
+gets well, the doctor says it will be a miracle. But even <i>he</i> is
+afraid to come much. Since Christmas Eve he hasn't been here. It was
+then I came, just after his visit."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p>
+<p>She had gradually edged away from Perrin, and now placed herself
+behind a boulder. Over its edge her pale face looked sadly at her
+lover.</p>
+
+<p>"Do you know," she went on, "perhaps you won't believe me, but till
+I saw you just now in your boat, I didn't even feel sorry I left you
+on Christmas Eve. Are you very angry with me?"</p>
+
+<p>"I couldn't be angry with you, my darling! Even now, it seems I
+can't believe you're alive. We found your white roses, all wet and
+spoilt, in a hedge close to Rocquaine Bay; and, ah, how we feared,
+your father and me ... But, Ellenor, tell me, how is it you came
+here? And how was it you were on the rocks just when my boat
+passed."</p>
+
+<p>"I was on the rocks to try to see if I could let one of you men know
+we want food, and to tell the doctor he <i>must</i> come again. I've
+given her all the medicine he left. It would be no use for me to go
+over to Rocquaine at low tide, because not a soul would help me; all
+would run away from me."</p>
+
+<p>"Set your heart at rest, my Ellenor. I'll go for all you want. But,
+quick, tell me, how is it you came here?"</p>
+
+<p>She buried her face in her hands, and broke into bitter weeping. And
+Perrin could not clasp her in his arms. Presently she spoke, in a
+low voice, full of anguish.</p>
+
+<p>"It was like this. On Christmas Eve, when I was coming back from
+Saint Pierre Port, I met Monsieur Le Mierre. He stopped me and
+wanted me to go back to the town with him. I had nearly decided to
+do as he wished. It was no use, I couldn't say 'No.' There was long
+I hadn't seen him; and he was so handsome and tall. And, and, I
+believe he loves me true, whatever happens! But, just as I said I'd
+go back with him, I thought of Blaisette, her that I hated and yet
+her that I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> pitied. And I asked him who was with her on lonely Lihou
+Isle. Him, he only laughed, and said she was all right; he'd be back
+before midnight. But there wasn't a soul in Guernsey would go to
+mind her, for love or money, so it was no use bothering, he said,
+and again he laughed. And then I was frightened. He seemed like the
+devil, so cruel about his poor wife. And, all of a sudden, I thought
+only of her, and I told him <i>I'd</i> go to mind her, not for love or
+money, but because I was <i>so</i> sorry, oh, so sorry, for her!"</p>
+
+<p>"My brave girl! My own sweetheart!" Perrin cried, stretching out
+eloquent hands to the sad, pale face.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, there's more yet to tell! I don't know how I got back to
+Saint Pierre du Bois, it was snowing fast and yet faster; but, at
+last I was to L'Er&eacute;e. I forgot all about everything except poor
+Blaisette. I threw away the roses for my wedding bonnet. I got to
+the beach before the tide was quite down. The sea was black. The sky
+was black. Just here and there was a dreadful line of white, where
+the waves were breaking over the rocks. And on Lihou Isle not a
+light was to be seen. I shivered when I thought of Blaisette in the
+dark, ill with small-pox of a Christmas Eve."</p>
+
+<p>Perrin ground his teeth.</p>
+
+<p>"Damn that brute! He's not fit for hell itself."</p>
+
+<p>She drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p>"Listen, Perrin, I've not finished! I began to cross the rocks and
+found myself on the causeway at last, but I was deep in water. The
+horrible waves, like black walls, was all around me. The wind pushed
+me on every side. The snow was falling thicker and thicker. But at
+last, at last, I was to Lihou. I climbed the beach, ran across the
+grass, and, pushing open a door in the wall of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> the garden&mdash;we all
+know the farm well, eh, Perrin? I went up the steps to the house. I
+opened the door. The house was like ice. In the kitchen was a poor
+little bit of fire. I made it up; and then I tried to get courage to
+go upstairs.... Well, somehow I was in the bedroom. I had taken a
+candle with me. I can't tell you how she looked. It would make you
+wish you could kill <i>him</i>. She looked at me with her poor glazed
+eyes. Her lips were black with fever. She cried, in a voice like a
+thread, for water, water!"</p>
+
+<p>"God in heaven! and you love this brute yet?"</p>
+
+<p>She hid her face for a moment.</p>
+
+<p>"Hush, I've not finished! I did my best for her, poor Blaisette. For
+a minute she knew me and she tried to thank me; and very soon she
+fell asleep."</p>
+
+<p>"And he came back at midnight?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, not till the middle of Christmas Day; and then he was half
+drunk. Since then he has hardly been near the house; but he has not
+left Lihou. He has been about the stables, and come into the kitchen
+to get his meals once or twice; and he is drinking, drinking all the
+time. I can see he is afraid of the small-pox, and afraid of death.
+And yet, I believe, I am sure, he loves me yet; only I will not
+speak to him nor look at him, because of <i>her</i>, lying upstairs all
+unconscious."</p>
+
+<p>Perrin stared at her, aghast. Was it possible a woman could love,
+actually love, the devil! Bah, it seemed so!</p>
+
+<p>"Look here," he cried, almost in a rude voice, "he loves you so much
+that he lets you run the risk of getting the small-pox! Very well!
+I'm decided what to do. I'll go back to tell my mother I am coming
+here to look after you twice a day, perhaps more, and I'll give
+<i>him</i> a piece of my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> mind. My mother will go to Les Casquets. I'll
+stop the mouths of the two parishes, so will my mother and your
+parents, or I'll know why. Now, go back, and I'll be off for the
+doctor and for food."</p>
+
+<p>"Wait, just a minute, Perrin! There is something more I must say, to
+cast it off my mind. It is all my fault that Blaisette has the
+small-pox. It was me that went to the witch to Saint Pierre Port to
+cast a spell on my rival the day after the <i>Grand' Querrue</i>. I
+didn't tell no names, but that's why she's bad, and oh, Perrin, it's
+all my fault."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, I suppose it's that, in a way. But it's my belief there's
+another reason for her sickness. You remember she came the wrong way
+to church on her wedding day? Ah, we all know what <i>that</i>
+means&mdash;trouble&mdash;as sure as her name is Blaisette. But I must be
+off!"</p>
+
+<p>In a few hours Perrin returned with a store of food and the
+unwilling doctor, who was obliged to go up to see the patient he
+dreaded so horribly, for Perrin took him by the arm and did not
+leave him till he had landed him in the sick room. Then the
+fisherman sought out Le Mierre, and the coward and scoundrel tried
+to hold his own. But Perrin's threats of appeal to the Royal Court
+awed him into a promise to give out money to pay for the expenses of
+his wife's illness. Corbet, himself utterly fearless of disease,
+frightened the drunkard into further dread of the house: and Ellenor
+had it all her own way. But it was of no avail. Pretty, frail
+Blaisette could not battle with a terrible illness, neglected at the
+very first; and two days after Perrin came to Lihou, she died,
+without a look or a sign.</p>
+
+<p>There was no thought of taking her poor body across to the other
+island for burial in the sweet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> quiet churchyard of Saint Pierre du
+Bois. She was laid to rest in a grave dug hastily in a corner beside
+a dark boulder. No hymns were sung over her. Only the grey sea
+moaned and the wind sighed, as her rough coffin was lowered into the
+grave. No messenger, mounted on a black horse, bore the news of her
+death from house to house, up and down the two parishes. Only a poor
+fisherman repeated the sad tidings as he trudged, first to
+Colomberie Farm and then to Orvilli&egrave;re, where Dominic's aunt kept
+house in state while her graceless nephew was away. No <i>Messieurs</i>
+of distinguished Torteval families were honoured bearers, but a good
+man and a bad man had carried her coffin to the dark place of
+burial. No weird feasting followed the unconsecrated ceremony: only
+Dominic took refuge from sickening terror in a drunken bout.</p>
+
+<p>But Perrin stood long beside her grave: and prayed for the poor
+little woman so soon to be left alone in the island, henceforth to
+be haunted by her sad spirit.</p>
+
+<p>An hour after Blaisette's burial, Ellenor fainted while she was
+making preparations for leaving the house. Perrin, guessing what
+would follow, rowed her across to the main island, as soon as she
+was able. His mother had returned to her home, and Jean and poor
+weak Mrs. Cartier prepared to nurse their child through an attack of
+small-pox. The doctor shook his head. It was a particularly bad
+case, he said, and it was doubtful if he could save Ellenor.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend3.jpg" width="150" height="79" alt="Decoration:scrollwork" title="" />
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/caps.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="S" title="" />
+</div><p>o you've made up your mind to lose her, Perrin?" said Mrs. Corbet,
+as she and her son were at supper one spring evening.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, there is nothing else to be done. Ellenor isn't a girl to
+treat me like that just for a bit of fun. At first, when she was
+just well of the small-pox, she was very kind to me. But when I
+spoke of our wedding day that had been put off and asked her if she
+wouldn't tell me it would be soon again, she turned away and didn't
+say another word for a long time."</p>
+
+<p>"And you left her alone, I hope?"</p>
+
+<p>"Indeed, but, no! I begged and prayed of her to speak to me, till
+she turned round. She looked white and tired. She was crying, but
+she was vexed, too. She told me, quite sharp, to leave her alone.
+She said she wasn't going to marry nobody, and she must have been
+mad to promise to be my wife before. And then she said she was glad
+she'd had the small-pox, because it had put off the wedding."</p>
+
+<p>"Perrin, my son, you are far too good for her, and far too simple!
+If you'd have left her then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> and there, it's my belief she'd have
+come looking after me the very next day, just to see what you'd told
+me. And if you'd have seemed you didn't care <i>she'd</i> have cared a
+good bit more than she does."</p>
+
+<p>The fisherman shook his head.</p>
+
+<p>"No, it isn't like what you think. It's like this&mdash;Ellenor only
+cares for one man, and that's the master of Orvilli&egrave;re."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Corbet shrugged her shoulders.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, well, she must be <i>ensorchelai</i> herself to love him that's
+such a devil and has so much to do with the Prince of devils. Bah,
+it was only yesterday I was told of some of Le Mierre's doings! It
+was Judie Roussel, and <i>she</i> heard it from one of the maids at
+Orvilli&egrave;re. Just you listen to me, Perrin Corbet, and see what you
+think of it!&mdash;Le Mierre, he wanted a bit of fun, him, and you may
+depend it wasn't nothing good, so he fetched some of his fine
+friends to go to the Vale. But they wasn't going to walk, them, no
+such thing! They makes up their minds they'll use the horse of Le
+Mierre's neighbour, Langlois. They find a good strong white one in a
+meadow. What do they do but all jump on his back and be off! Wait a
+bit! He begins to gallop and to gallop, over hedges and brambles;
+they couldn't stop him, and and when he gets nearly to the Vale, he
+throws them off his back in a fine muddy place, and then he's out of
+sight in a minute. And yet, would you believe it, Langlois swore the
+white horse had been in the meadow all the time! Of course it was
+the <i>devil</i> that was the gallopping white horse! And he must be on
+pretty good terms with Le Mierre to play off such a joke with him,
+eh, Perrin!"</p>
+
+<p>"I can't say, mother, I'm sure, and, in case even he is good friends
+with the devil, it's all the worse for the girl that loves him."</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Bah! I've no patience with Ellenor. Le Mierre is a bad man. She
+knows that as well as you and me do, and yet ... she loves him.
+Well, well, women are poor fools. But, come, Perrin, isn't there any
+other girl that would do except Ellenor? There's hundreds nicer than
+her, and hundreds prettier&mdash;specially now."</p>
+
+<p>"If she won't have me, I'll never marry. That's the end of it,
+mother."</p>
+
+<p>Mrs. Corbet sighed as she heaped up the supper things for Perrin to
+wash. Such a good, kind son as he was, and to be made a fool of by a
+self-willed girl like Ellenor!</p>
+
+<p>"It seems I haven't seen Le Mierre for a long time," she went on.</p>
+
+<p>"He's been away ever since his wife's death. It was said everywhere,
+in the two parishes and even to Saint Pierre Port that he went off
+because of poor Blaisette. She came again and again to Orvilli&egrave;re
+like a white sea-gull, crying and flapping her wings against his
+bedroom window. Her spirit can't rest it seems, because of his
+wickedness. But, now, I've been told this very day, that he's back
+to Guernsey: and some there are who say he's been making love to
+girls in Jersey."</p>
+
+<p>"If only he'd had brought one back as his wife, that foolish Ellenor
+of yours would have stopped hankering after him!"</p>
+
+<p>"I don't believe he'll marry her, because she is poor and of no
+family: <i>besides</i> ..."</p>
+
+<p>"You may well say <i>besides</i>, poor girl! But, come, my son, I am
+tired, I must go to bed."</p>
+
+<p>Rumour was quite correct in giving one of the reasons for Le
+Mierre's departure to Jersey. He told everyone how he was bothered
+by the spirit of Blaisette; but he did not add that abject terror of
+small-pox made him decide to spend some months<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> with well-to-do
+relations in Jersey, which was quite exempt from the horrible
+disease.</p>
+
+<p>It was just before Lent when he came home to find a very bleak
+springtime keeping back the flowers in his garden at Orvilli&egrave;re.
+With relief, after the first night, he told his housekeeper that the
+spirit of Blaisette had gone, evidently for good. The woman, a
+devout Roman Catholic, muttered behind his back.</p>
+
+<p>"She's got enough to do, praying for you in Purgatory, poor soul, if
+she's allowed to think of such a black heart as yours! The Blessed
+Angels and Saints know how it would discourage her to come back to
+see you as bad as ever, and it's <i>my</i> belief, worse!"</p>
+
+<p>The tragic death of Blaisette had almost canonized her: and she, who
+had been in life, a pretty weak doll, was enshrined in all hearts as
+a martyr to her husband's brutality. So often does death enrich and
+enlarge our limited outlook.</p>
+
+<p>It was the evening of the first Sunday in Lent. Jean Cartier, his
+wife, Mrs. Corbet and Perrin had been to church at Saint Pierre du
+Bois. It was dark as they entered the parish of Torteval, and Jean
+said in an anxious voice,</p>
+
+<p>"I suppose Ellenor has left Les Casquets by now?"</p>
+
+<p>His wife nudged him as if to say he had betrayed a secret: but it
+was too late. Mrs. Corbet's gentle voice asked, in great curiosity,
+where Ellenor was going at this time of night.</p>
+
+<p>"To <i>Les Brandons</i>, on Pleinmont," said Jean bluntly. "We didn't
+like it. But as for me, I've not got the heart to refuse her
+nothing, since we nearly lost her with the small-pox&mdash;poor child!"</p>
+
+<p>The women echoed his deep sigh: and Perrin said quickly,</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p>
+<p>"Look here! I'm off to <i>Les Brandons</i> too! Then I can look after
+her! Don't wait up for me, mother."</p>
+
+<p>"Very well. But, tell me, Jean. Will Le Mierre be there? Has she met
+him since his return from Jersey?"</p>
+
+<p>"He will be there, for certain," broke in Perrin. "And, for certain,
+she has not see him yet. She told me so herself. <i>Adi, then, toute
+la compagnie.</i>"</p>
+
+<p>He swung along and was soon out of sight. The high road of Torteval
+was thronged with people who, for the most part, carried lanterns.
+He hurried past, not speaking to a soul. Presently he had reached
+his home, and, turning sharply round the corner of the little
+garden, he found himself in a lane which ended in a cart rut and
+brought him out to the moorland of Pleinmont and close to the
+Haunted House.</p>
+
+<p>The sky was thick with stars, which flashed like silver bonfires in
+the blackness of the night. A fresh breeze swept over the gorze
+bushes of the moorland and blew into yellow and red streamers the
+sheet of flame that rose from a huge bonfire which was built in a
+direct line inland from the Haunted House. The sea, below the
+precipitous cliffs, moaned and sighed, and, far off, in the
+distance, could be heard the murmur of the deep seas. Shouts of
+laughter and merry voices, scraps of folk song and impromptu
+dancing, came from the throng of people scattered over the moorland
+and gathered round the bonfire.</p>
+
+<p>Most of the girls of the company wore masks, rough, crude affairs,
+which, however, effectually concealed their faces. These masked
+girls were to take part in a special feature of <i>Les Brandons</i>, and
+were inspected curiously by the men present who were to be chosen as
+partners by these <i>faux visages</i>.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p>
+<p>Perrin Corbet moved quietly, almost stealthily, about amongst the
+people, evidently intent on finding some particular person. All at
+once he stopped close to the huge bonfire, and stared, with knitted
+brows, at Dominic Le Mierre, who swaggered in and out amongst the
+girls, tapping one on the cheek, chucking another under the chin,
+and pulling the long curls of a young creature in her teens. In the
+fitful and flickering light, the master of Orvilli&egrave;re looked like a
+sea-king, so stalwart, so wicked, so magnetic. It was quite plain to
+Perrin Corbet that he was more than a little the worse for drink;
+and he watched him closely, and followed him as near as he dared
+without being observed.</p>
+
+<p>At ten o'clock, and at a given signal, the masked girls went up to
+the group of men to choose partners. Perrin edged close to Dominic
+Le Mierre and scrutinized painfully the girl who laid her hand on
+the "jerseyed" arm of the master. She was of middle height and
+extremely thin. Her emaciated hand trembled; it looked almost
+discoloured in the uncertain light. The border of her face that
+could be seen round the mask was ghastly in its whiteness. She wore
+a close fitting bonnet which hid all trace of her hair.</p>
+
+<p>With partially glazed eyes, Dominic peered at her.</p>
+
+<p>"You don't look much of a beauty!" he cried, "but I'll soon see who
+you are, my girl!"</p>
+
+<p>When the masks had all chosen, a circle was formed round the
+bonfire, the men holding their partners tightly by the hand. Faster
+and faster flew the circle till the masked faces shewed like a black
+band, while the outside throng of people cheered and clapped, and
+encouraged the dancers to madder whirling. Then, suddenly, as by one
+impulse, the circle was broken up, and a new spectacle was provided
+for the onlookers.</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+<p>Each girl seized her partner by the hand and together they leapt
+across the flaming bonfire. Wild excitement was the order of the
+night. It was the festival of the rude, primitive elements of human
+nature. It was a pageant of black shadow and brilliant light. It
+answered to the spirit of the bleak moorland, to the steeps of the
+cliffs, to the mystery of the sea.</p>
+
+<p>Only one man in the whole throng was utterly unmoved by the
+abandonment around him. Perrin kept his deep set, keen eyes fixed on
+Dominic and his partner. He watched them leap with perfect skill,
+across the roaring flame of the bonfire. He saw the master bend
+down, and once more peer into the white face of the girl. He
+followed, very stealthily, the two, as they drew apart into a
+shadowed place, where, nevertheless, the light from the bonfire
+could reach and bring their faces into relief. He watched the girl
+unfasten her mask and throw it on the grass. He drew a deep breath.
+Her face was pitifully ugly. It was covered with the pits and dents
+and scars that small-pox had left. The skin was coarse and rough and
+of a yellowish white. Her eyes were dim and red and bleared. Her
+eyebrows and lashes were gone. Her expression was like that of a
+furtive, crouching creature who dreaded the lash.</p>
+
+<p>And it came.</p>
+
+<p>"Who are you, I'd like to know!" cried the master in a towering
+rage, "that has dared to choose me only to cheat me. Do you know,
+woman, that you are as ugly as sin!"</p>
+
+<p>He seized her bonnet and dragged it off. Then he burst into a brutal
+laugh.</p>
+
+<p>"Almost bald, the old crone! I'll pay you out for this trick. Who
+the devil are you? Quick,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> out with it, or else I'll call the other
+fellows in to help me to find out!"</p>
+
+<p>Perrin moved quite close behind the master, who was too angry to
+notice him. The girl lifted her eyes to Dominic. She spoke quietly.</p>
+
+<p>"I am Ellenor Cartier."</p>
+
+<p>"I might have guessed it, fool that I am! And you are a greater to
+think I would even look at you <i>now</i>! You must be quite mad. All I
+ever cared for in you was your devilry, and your eyes that used to
+set me all on fire with love. And now you look like a scared rabbit,
+a white, pinched thing! And your eyes are hideous! And your hair is
+gone! How dare you cheat me, you ugly creature!"</p>
+
+<p>She had clasped her hands together; and gazed at him in
+stupefaction.</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly, he turned on his heel and cried in a loud, far-carrying
+voice&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>"Come here, you men, all of you, and help me to throw the witch,
+Ellenor Cartier, into the bonfire! She's too devilish ugly to live."</p>
+
+<p>The lower sort of the throng laughed uproariously, and turned to
+stare at the poor girl. But cries of "Shame! shame!" rent the air.
+Perrin stepped forward, and, with a well-planted blow and a skilful
+twist of his leg, he threw Dominic to the ground.</p>
+
+<p>"See to the drunken brute!" he cried.</p>
+
+<p>Then he turned to the trembling girl.</p>
+
+<p>"Come, Ellenor," he said, with tender reverence, "come with me, I
+will take you home."</p>
+
+<p>He led her to his mother, who took her up to her own attic and
+helped her to get into bed, for the girl shivered with cold one
+minute and was in a fever the next. Perrin, meanwhile, went off to
+Les Casquets to tell her people that she was safe; and he gave Jean
+the story of the evening, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> fear he should hear it from
+strangers. When he came back to the cottage, Mrs. Corbet was in the
+kitchen.</p>
+
+<p>"She's asleep at last! But she's cried till I thought she would die.
+I asked her how it was she made herself in such a state; and then
+she told me all the tale. Silly girl! the very way to upset any man,
+and still more, Le Mierre, to show how ugly she is now before all
+them people. And, besides, it was all like play acting, to my mind!"</p>
+
+<p>"Oh, no, not like that, mother!"</p>
+
+<p>"Wait a bit, wait a bit, till you hears all! It seems, she told me,
+that she planned she'd do this, there's weeks ago, while Le Mierre
+was yet to Jersey, and she had heard he was making love to girls
+there."</p>
+
+<p>"But why?"</p>
+
+<p>"Well, listen! She's a strange creature, not like others! It's <i>my</i>
+belief she comes from those fairies that built <i>Les Casquets</i>. You
+remember Perrin?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, tell me."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, once my great-grandfather was on the beach to Portelet, and
+he saw, a long, long way off a big ship. It came nearer and nearer,
+and it was so big that great-grandfather expected to see it smashed
+on hidden rocks. But, lo and behold, the ship got smaller and at
+last, bah, it looked like the toy of a child, and it ran in on the
+sand, close to great-grandfather. Out of the boat stepped a little
+chap, and would you believe it, the boat was turned into the
+blade-bone of a sheep, all tangled in sea-weed."</p>
+
+<p>"Quick, what happened?"</p>
+
+<p>"Have patience, my son, and don't hurry an old woman. Well,
+great-grandfather asked the little chap where he was going and what
+was his name.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> And all he would say was "<i>Je vais cheminant</i>." But
+he stopped to Guernsey after all and he married a girl from near
+here&mdash;and it was him built <i>Les Casquets</i>. There! <i>that's</i> where she
+gets her queer ways, Ellenor!"</p>
+
+<p>"And now tell me about her plan."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, it seems she thought, foolish girl, she'd find out, for sure,
+if Le Mierre really loves her or only her looks. And she couldn't
+think of no better way than this mad one. She can't know much of men
+and their ways, her!"</p>
+
+<p>"It's the best thing that could have happened, if only it makes her
+see Le Mierre in his true colours."</p>
+
+<p>"Well, we must hope for the best. And, look here, Perrin! Nothing he
+could do before, no wickedness, no cruelty, could make her leave off
+caring! But we women, if our looks are held up to
+scorn&mdash;well!&mdash;that's the worst of all. So who can tell what may
+happen! Come, I must make her and give her a cup of tea. She told me
+she hadn't eaten or drank all day."</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend.jpg" width="150" height="198" alt="Decoration: flowers in vase" title="" />
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/capi.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="I" title="" />
+</div><p>t was a wild wet night in March. Dominic Le Mierre had just
+finished supper, and he sat by the fire in the kitchen of
+Orvilli&egrave;re; he was in a particularly good mood, owing to the
+excellence of the tobacco he was smoking. As he puffed at his second
+pipe he congratulated himself on his long acquaintance with
+Frenchmen, who had no scruples in giving him whole packages of this
+excellent tobacco; and no conditions attached except the fun of
+helping to hide it in the caves below the Haunted House, till it
+could be conveyed to Brittany!</p>
+
+<p>Then he laughed aloud at the idea of the countryside about this very
+Haunted House. He had added two or three ghost tales to those
+current; and, though he believed firmly in every weird story of the
+two parishes, he had not felt a single scruple in inventing others
+to terrify people from the spot. His love of lawlessness and danger
+was infinitely stronger than his inherited faith in the
+supernatural. The Haunted House brought to his mind the festival of
+<i>Les Brandons</i>, when the dreaded place had lost its horror for the
+time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> being, owing to the safety that is supposed to lie in numbers.
+He chuckled as he remembered what a fool he had made of Ellenor.
+Bah! Once and for all he had done with her! Who cared to look at her
+now, fright that she was! And how dared that pious idiot of a
+fisherman throw him down before all the company! Ah! he would soon
+teach him better manners! he would thrash him well next time they
+met!</p>
+
+<p>So he plotted and thought and smoked, and the night wind howled and
+the rain beat against the windows. All at once, he got up, and from
+the rack fastened across the beamed ceiling he took an old black
+book, his friend and evil counsellor, the <i>Grand-M&ecirc;le</i> which had
+been in his family for generations. It was a book of magic,
+containing spells to be used on every conceivable occasion, and
+Dominic Le Mierre was past-master in the black art. Turning over the
+pages with knitted brows, he searched for a spell to be used against
+Perrin Corbet. At last he found it.</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, it is quite easy to draw blood, and it need be but a drop!" he
+muttered, "scratch his hand with my knife and it is done! Then, he
+will walk in his sleep to the Haunted House. There I will meet him!
+Ah, Perrin Corbet, it will be your turn to be down on the ground! I
+will see him to-morrow, and the spell will work for the night.
+<i>Bon</i>, nothing could be better!"</p>
+
+<p>He took up his pipe again and smoked in full contentment. A sudden
+stillness had fallen over the wild night. It seemed to Dominic that
+he could hear the moan of the sea. He listened. His blood crept at
+the weird stillness.</p>
+
+<p>Hark! Hush! What was that?</p>
+
+<p>The wild sad cry of a sea-gull. Nearer and nearer it came, and
+Dominic's eyes were fixed in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> horror upon the uncurtained window.
+The sea-gull came at last quite close, with wilder, sadder cries. It
+flapped its wings and circled round and round the casement. Dominic
+was cold and stiff with terror. He knew who the sea-gull was, but
+what did it mean? Some dreadful thing was drawing near Orvilli&egrave;re.</p>
+
+<p>"Blaisette!" he cried, "I know you well enough! Why do you come
+here?"</p>
+
+<p>Wilder, more despairing grew the cries. Closer and closer the bird
+drew to the panes, striking them with a twang like the sound of wild
+music.</p>
+
+<p>With a curse the master roused himself from the freezing spell. He
+took his loaded gun from its place over the chimney piece. He fired.
+One of the panes of glass was broken. Outside, on the cobbled yard,
+the gull lay dead, its glazed eyes fixed on the house.</p>
+
+<p>With a laugh of triumph, Dominic re-lighted his pipe and sat down
+again by the fire. He had just settled once more to the reading of
+<i>Grand-M&ecirc;le</i> when a very tempest of wind and hail shook the house,
+and in the midst of it, a low, sharp knock fell on the house door.</p>
+
+<p>This time, the master was not under a spell. He recognized the
+knock. In an instant he was in the entrance hall and had flung open
+the door. A rough, unkempt fisherman stood on the threshold.</p>
+
+<p>"You must come at once, Monsieur," he cried, "there's been great
+luck! A lot of brandy has been brought, unexpected. It's to the cave
+below the Haunted House. We could have got it up the cliffs alone.
+But we all agreed that you must have your share in the fun."</p>
+
+<p>"Quick! where did the stuff come from?"</p>
+
+<p>"From France, from les Messieurs &mdash;&mdash;."</p>
+
+<p>"<i>Bon!</i> Will you wait for me?"</p>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span></p>
+<p>"No, my horse is here&mdash;tied to the gate. He's impatient, him! I'll
+be off to tell the rest you're coming."</p>
+
+<p>"I'll ride too," and Dominic slammed the door, and hurried to the
+back of the house where his horses were stabled for the night. He
+chose out a fleet white one that was used to wild rushes through the
+dark. Before he mounted, he fastened a pistol to the saddle; but he
+laughed as he did this, it was such a useless precaution. Never once
+yet had the excisemen appeared within miles of the Haunted House.
+With a dark lantern swinging from the saddle bow, he rode out of the
+farmyard and cantered up the hill. Then, urging the white mare to
+her swiftest pace, he flew through steep lanes, past Torteval
+Church, and along the high road to Pleinmont.</p>
+
+<p>The rain poured in torrents. The wind roared and howled. Several
+times the mare paused, trembling. But Dominic lashed her on, and in
+pain and terror she tore across the moorland, striking fire from the
+stones as she flew. He reined her in at last and fastened her to a
+hook in the side wall of the Haunted House. He laughed as he thought
+what a help she would be in keeping all comers away, for she seemed
+to shed a white dim light from her drenched skin, and her loud
+breathing might easily be taken for groans.</p>
+
+<p>He scrambled down the face of the cliff. Fortunately, the wind blew
+in from the sea, and in safety he reached a large cave, brilliant
+with the light of many torches. His boon companions, the roughest
+gangs of the two parishes, greeted him with shouts and jests, and an
+hour of drinking and feasting followed. Then, with no little
+difficulty, kegs of brandy were hauled up the cliffs and deposited
+in the Haunted House. With wonderful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> skill, the men worked almost
+all the while in the dark, only using lanterns when it was
+absolutely necessary. At last, all the kegs were stowed away. The
+men scattered to fetch their horses from various sheds belonging to
+friendly people, and the master of Orvilli&egrave;re was left alone.</p>
+
+<p>He looked carefully round at the precious kegs stowed half way up
+the walls. Ah&mdash;what was that! One of the barrels leaked! Brandy,
+velvety fragrant brandy was oozing out on the earthen floor! He
+knelt down and caught a few drops in his hand. It was superfine, the
+best stuff he had ever tasted. Greedily he drank again and again
+from his hand. But that process was too slow. Catching up a hatchet,
+he enlarged the leak, and throwing himself flat on the ground, he
+lapped the golden spirit that filled him with ecstasy. At last, he
+had had enough. He fumbled at the leak, making futile efforts to
+stop it. But he was too drunk to know what he was about. He had just
+sense enough to darken his lantern, to reel out of the Haunted House
+and fling himself on the drenched grass beside his shivering mare.
+Presently his debauch turned into a heavy sleep, and the hours
+passed. Suddenly he woke and sat up. He heard, quite distinctly, the
+sharp click of a horse's hoof. It had rung through his drunken sleep
+like a knell. He had dreamt he heard again the passing bell that had
+tolled for Blaisette.</p>
+
+<p>All at once the click passed into a smothered sound of pounding and
+slushing. The horse had left the high road and must be on the
+moorland!</p>
+
+<p>Sobered, Le Mierre leapt to his feet, unloosened the mare and jumped
+on her back. He turned her inland and urged her forward. But,
+trembling in every limb, the mare refused to move. Nearer and nearer
+came the pounding of the horse. It<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> stopped. A lantern flashed out.
+Le Mierre saw the figure of a well known exciseman riding a powerful
+black horse. A voice cried above the howling of the wind.</p>
+
+<p>"Give yourself up, and all will be well! I've looked for you far and
+wide. At last I find you. Come, Le Mierre, don't be a fool about
+this. It will only be a fine, and perhaps not even that, if you give
+up the other chaps."</p>
+
+<p>But the master of Orvilli&egrave;re was not to be reasoned with. He was in
+a towering rage. He wrenched the pistol from the saddle. He fired it
+at the exciseman. It missed him. But he, too, lost his temper. In an
+instant he was beside Le Mierre and had dragged the pistol away and
+flung it against the house. Dominic, beside himself and unnerved
+with the night's carouse, grappled with the exciseman and tried to
+throttle him.</p>
+
+<p>A terrible struggle. A wild pounding of hoofs. Cries and oaths. The
+fall of the lantern. Gusts of rain, and wind that shrieked as if an
+agony of warning. Then, the mare broke away at last, in a frenzy of
+terror, and made straight for the edge of the cliffs behind the
+Haunted House.</p>
+
+<p>Not one word came from Dominic Le Mierre as the mare stumbled, fell,
+and, with a horrible, almost human cry, rolled over and over down
+the precipitous height.</p>
+
+<p>The exciseman dismounted, groped for the lantern, lit it, and fought
+his way half down the cliff, at the risk of his life, as the wind
+had changed and was blowing out to sea. But there was not a sign of
+the mare and her rider.</p>
+
+<p>At the earliest streak of dawn, the two parishes were roused, and
+long and careful search went on for days. But it was all in vain.
+Somewhere, in the deep seas, perhaps, the body of the master was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> at
+rest, but, after "life's fitful fever," did he, indeed "sleep well?"</p>
+
+<p>Orvilli&egrave;re Farm was shut up. The finding of the dead gull, with a
+red wound in its white breast, proved conclusively that foul play
+and magic had been at work on the night of the storm. The servant
+and the housekeeper had been all the evening at a wedding feast, and
+when they returned at five o'clock next morning they found excited
+groups of people all about the farm, and they heard the story of the
+death of Dominic Le Mierre.</p>
+
+<p>No one would dream of living henceforth at Orvilli&egrave;re. It was
+haunted. People who were compelled to pass through the valley at
+nightfall, saw flickering lights moving from window to window of the
+farm, and heard the sudden firing of a gun, and the plaintive cry of
+a wounded bird.</p>
+
+<p>The wind sighed about the lonely spot. The moan of the sea
+penetrated to the solitary farm. But no human creature wept for the
+departed soul of the master of Orvilli&egrave;re. All shuddered at his end.
+Two prayed, in defiance of their scruples, for his wicked, wild
+soul. And these were only an old woman and her fisherman son.</p>
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend2.jpg" width="150" height="213" alt="Decoration: flowers in short wide vase" title="" />
+</div>
+<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p>
+
+
+<hr style="width: 65%;" />
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 675px;">
+<img src="images/chaphead.jpg" width="675" height="100" alt="Decoration: floral border" title="" />
+</div>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX.</h2>
+
+
+<div class="figleft" style="width: 100px;">
+<img src="images/capi.jpg" width="100" height="100" alt="I" title="" />
+</div><p>t was a still, beautiful evening in summer. Perrin Corbet was free
+till ten o'clock, when he would go fishing with Jean Cartier. It was
+very lonely now in the cottage, for Perrin's mother was dead, and he
+spent very little time at home. This special evening he decided to
+make a pilgrimage to the churchyard of St. Pierre du Bois where his
+mother was buried. Her grave was close to the church in a place of
+long grass and overshadowing trees. As Perrin entered the churchyard
+he saw that a woman was bending over the grave: he knew at once who
+it was, and his heart beat quicker. It was so long since he had seen
+her and spoken with her!</p>
+
+<p>When he was quite close, she turned round, and he saw that she had
+been crying. On the grave she had put a rude cross of <i>immortelles</i>.</p>
+
+<p>"Ellenor," he said quietly, "I did not expect to see you. I thought
+you were yet in Sark."</p>
+
+<p>"I came back this morning by the early cutter. I was longing to get
+back home."</p>
+
+<p>"And we have been longing for you to come back! It is kind of you to
+put flowers here. Ah,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> it is always a woman who thinks of those
+things! We are such stupid creatures, we men! She who lies here so
+often said that to me. I miss her more and more, Ellenor."</p>
+
+<p>"Poor Perrin!" she said softly, and for one long moment she looked
+into the faithful face bent over his mother's grave; then she turned
+away with a bitter sigh. Perrin lifted his head; not a thing she
+did, not a movement, not a sigh of hers ever escaped him.</p>
+
+<p>"What is it?" he asked, in his low, kind voice, "are you fretting
+still?"</p>
+
+<p>"No, no, but it seems I can't forget quickly all that has passed."</p>
+
+<p>She covered her face with her hands and shuddered. Perrin touched
+her arm.</p>
+
+<p>"Come and sit in the church porch," he said, "and tell me all about
+it."</p>
+
+<p>Still with her hands covering her face, she let him lead her to the
+old stone seat in the grey porch. Presently, with an evident effort,
+her hands fell from her face, and she clasped them in her lap.</p>
+
+<p>"I am selfish," she said, "never once have I told you how sorry I
+was to hear of your mother's death, it seems I could only think of
+myself."</p>
+
+<p>"I have understood all the time. I knew you would be sad for me.
+But, of course, you could not help thinking most of yourself and of
+what you have lost."</p>
+
+<p>"Ah, how it hurts to hear you say that! Tell me, am I <i>very</i> ugly! I
+know I will get the truth from you."</p>
+
+<p>"Ugly!" he repeated, "<i>ugly</i>, to me you are the prettiest woman in
+Guernsey. Your hair, all growing again in dear little dark rings,
+like the curls of a baby! Your eyes once more beautiful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> with long
+eyelashes; your sad mouth! Ah, Ellenor, how can I speak to you like
+this quietly! I love you more than ever! But I know it is useless!
+Did you think I meant your <i>looks</i> when I spoke of what you had
+lost? Oh, no, I mean something else."</p>
+
+<p>"What is it you mean?"</p>
+
+<p>"That you have lost him you love, Dominic Le Mierre."</p>
+
+<p>For a long while Ellenor did not speak: then she said wearily,</p>
+
+<p>"But it seems to me I don't love him any more. It seems he killed my
+love the night of <i>Les Brandons</i>. It was awful when he died. And all
+I could think of was to get away from Guernsey and all the people I
+knew. In Sark, I forgot about him a little. But now I'm back, it
+seems I can't think of nothing else. I am so frightened of him.
+Perhaps, some day, when I'm going by the road to Orvilli&egrave;re, he'll
+come back from the dead and laugh and jeer at me. Because, as for
+him, he didn't love me no more after <i>Les Brandons</i>. No, I don't care
+for him now. But I've no heart left, I am only tired, and oh, so
+frightened of <i>him</i>!"</p>
+
+<p>She looked at Perrin like a child asking for protection, and in an
+instant his strong arm was round her. She drew a deep sigh of relief
+and smiled a little.</p>
+
+<p>"Let me take of you, my own girl," he said, "I won't bother you to
+try to love me. Please God, that will come in time."</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, please take care of poor me, poor wicked, stupid me," she
+whispered, "you're such a good man. I'm so safe with you. There's
+nobody in all the world I'd trust like you, Perrin."</p>
+
+<p>He drew her head down to his breast, and the still evening breathed
+a benediction over the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> woman who had sinned and suffered and over
+the man who had loved her throughout with a tender reverence which
+is the very heart of the divinest love.</p>
+
+
+<div class="center">THE END.<br /><br /><br /></div>
+
+
+<div class="figcenter" style="width: 150px;">
+<img src="images/chapend.jpg" width="150" height="198" alt="Decoration: flowers in vase" title="" />
+</div>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Where Deep Seas Moan, by E. Gallienne-Robin
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+</body>
+</html>
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Where Deep Seas Moan, by E. Gallienne-Robin
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Where Deep Seas Moan
+
+Author: E. Gallienne-Robin
+
+Release Date: November 24, 2008 [EBook #27324]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WHERE DEEP SEAS MOAN ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Steven Gibbs, Karen Dalrymple, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+  WHERE
+  DEEP SEAS
+  MOAN.
+
+
+  BY
+  E. GALLIENNE-ROBIN
+
+
+  GUERNSEY:
+  FREDERICK CLARKE.
+  Printer and Publisher.
+
+
+  MCMVII.
+
+
+
+
+"Where Deep Seas Moan."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+The autumn wind blew in great gusts over the rocky island of
+Guernsey, and in the country parishes rushed up hill and down dale,
+leaving not a lane undisturbed by its vagaries. It rattled the
+leafless trees which grew at the back of Colomberie Farm, whose deep
+brown-thatched roof rested against the lichened red tiles of the
+barn adjoining. Surrounded on all sides by green fields outside its
+charming garden, Colomberie looked the picture of comfort; and its
+cheery interior laughed the wind to scorn as the curtains were drawn
+across the kitchen window, and the _crasset_ was lit at the side of
+the wide hearth. But the wind had its revenge, for it blew across
+the country roads pretty young Blaisette, the daughter of
+Colomberie, who was going out to spend the evening; and who
+struggled with all her healthy vigour against the impertinent
+buffetting of the bleak north-wester. When she disappeared into a
+sheltered hollow, the wind, hushed and non-plussed for a minute,
+paused to meditate further mischief; then, with regathered rage, it
+tore across country, and boomed, with sullen roar, into a valley
+shut in by brackened and heather-covered hills.
+
+Here, a granite-built house, sheltered under the rocky cliff, had an
+air of stern and unkempt loneliness; and there was something
+sinister about the watermill, whose dingy wheel, green with disuse,
+was close against the side of the building. Yet there was prosperity
+to be read in the large open barn stacked high with corn and hay, in
+the many cows that fed in the meadow below the hill, and in the
+horses that stamped impatiently in the stable.
+
+The master of Orvilliere Farm was Dominic Le Mierre, a bachelor, a
+hard worker, and a more than respectable member of the parish of
+Saint Pierre du Bois. It seemed that he did not mind the boisterous
+wind this evening as he ate his supper hurriedly in the gloomy
+kitchen, whose windows shook at every touch of the blast.
+
+Over the hills, and once more across country, the howling wind made
+its way, past the old church of Saint Pierre du Bois, past the lanes
+to Torteval parish, and along the high road to Pleinmont, where it
+had full play over a wide moorland district, dotted with low masses
+of gorze and groups of boulders.
+
+Here, too, was just one little cottage to shake and grip and freeze
+with biting draughts. It stood in a slight hollow on the summit of a
+cliff overlooking Rocquaine Bay. Its mossy thatched roof overhung
+tiny latticed windows, whose panes were golden red from the light of
+the fire of dried sea-weed and furze heaped up on the hearth of
+stone raised above the earthen sanded floor.
+
+Round the fire a group of girls was gathered; for the most part they
+were just homely, pleasant creatures, but two stood out distinctly
+from the rest; one, by reason of her beauty, the other, because of
+her original and perhaps, forbidding, personality. The beautiful
+one, Blaisette Simon, of Colomberie Farm, was small and plump and
+very fair, with cheeks of a rosebud pink and lips full and ripe for
+kisses. The round innocence of her blue eyes looked away all sense
+from the men, so it was said, and she had lovers by the dozen. Added
+to her beauty was the attraction of a very desirable little fortune
+which she had already inherited from her mother, who was dead; and
+by and bye, _Mess_' Simon would leave her the farm and all his
+money, for she was an only child. She was disposed to be friendly
+with Ellenor, again an only child, the one treasure of Jean and
+Marie Cartier, of Les Casquets Cottage.
+
+People wondered what Blaisette saw in the dark scowling girl, who
+was reserved and offhand with people in general; and probably
+Blaisette herself was puzzled as to _why_ she sought Ellenor so
+constantly. The girls were a distinct contrast, not only in
+character, but in appearance.
+
+Ellenor was tall and angular, with a certain nobility and
+haughtiness of carriage inherited from her fisherman father. Her
+sallow skin, sombre grey eyes and heavy mouth, looked the
+personification of night beside the sunny beauty of Blaisette's blue
+eyes and yellow hair. The girl of the cottage was an excellent foil
+to the girl of Colomberie Farm. Did Blaisette realize, all
+unconsciously, the use of this to her as she went forward
+triumphantly in her victorious path as the belle of two parishes?
+
+But to return to the group round the fire.
+
+All at once, by common consent, as it appeared, the girls rose and
+crowded round the entrance. Ellenor lifted the latch, and, flinging
+the door wide open, she stood on the threshold and looked out into
+the inky blackness of the night. The wind howled and moaned as it
+entered the kitchen; and a flash of lightning tore open, for one
+second, the darkness of the sky. After the crash of thunder that
+followed, Blaisette cried in an awestruck voice,
+
+"Surely now, Ellenor, you will not go!"
+
+"Not go!" echoed the girl of the cottage, "not go! but this is the
+very weather to go in! Now, perhaps, you will all believe I fear
+nothing! and if there was need for it I would go bareheaded to Saint
+Peter Port in this deluge!" and she pointed to the sheets of rain
+which swept over the moorland.
+
+Then a small, insignificant voice, coming from a woman who sat in
+the hearth corner, spoke irritably.
+
+"You know, Ellenor, if your father was here, he would not let you
+play such tricks!"
+
+Ellenor faced her mother with rebellion in every feature of her
+face.
+
+"The girls have dared me to go to the Haunted House on this very
+night, and I'll go, mother, if I have to face the devil himself."
+
+Mrs. Cartier sighed.
+
+"Well, you must do as you please, it seems you always do!"
+
+Without further words, Ellenor coiled tighter the thick hair that
+looked too heavy for her small head, stuck through it a dull gold
+pin, and stepped out into the small garden.
+
+"It has stopped raining," she said sarcastically, "so who will go a
+little way, to see I don't cheat, but go, in reality, to the Haunted
+House?"
+
+After a minute's hesitation, two or three of the girls followed her,
+but Blaisette, with a pretty pout, returned to the _jonquiere_ by
+the hearth. Ellenor walked rapidly up the steep path to the summit
+of the cliff, then plunged into the darkness of the moorland.
+Winding in and out amongst gorze bushes, she reached at last a large
+patch of grass. She turned round to the girls who were huddling
+close to her.
+
+"There! in two minutes I'll be to the Haunted House. Listen to the
+sea! We're close to the edge of the cliffs. Come, quick, let's run,
+who knows if I can burst open the door, if I won't see the devil. I
+would wish it, for my part! There'd be a chance to tell him what one
+thinks of him."
+
+Her words wandered away into the night, for the girls, with cries of
+horror, had fled as if evil spirits pursued them.
+
+With a mocking laugh, Ellenor hurried on, then gradually she
+slackened her pace. At last, she groped her way forward with
+outstretched hands, for it was horribly dark. Presently she touched
+the rough stone wall of some building and stopped and listened. Not
+a sound but the wild roar of the waves below the cliffs and the
+gradual lulling of the wind. She groped along the wall, till her
+hands fell a little lower, to a different surface. It was a short
+wooden door. She pushed against it, gently, but it did not yield.
+She felt it across and up and down. There was no latch and she could
+find no keyhole. Again she pushed, this time with all her strength.
+Jerking suddenly, the door opened inwards, and Ellenor, leaning
+against it, fell forward over the high threshold into pitch
+darkness. She felt a blinding blow and a sickening pain, and then
+she lost consciousness.
+
+When she came to herself she was first aware of a heavily beamed
+cobwebbed roof, of a dim lantern beside her, of the stifling
+nearness of kegs and bales and boxes, and then of a very familiar
+figure kneeling beside her on one knee.
+
+The man's face that peered into hers was handsome in a heavy
+undeveloped way. Eyes as grey as hers and as sombre scowled from
+underneath dark brows and a dark thatch of hair. His sullen mouth,
+set in a hard angry line, was the finest feature of a clean-shaven
+face.
+
+"You little fool!" he half whispered, "what on earth, or in hell,
+has made you come meddling here, I'd like to know! I've nearly
+killed you!"
+
+With his coarse pocket handkerchief he mopped up the blood that was
+flowing from a cut on her head.
+
+"How did you nearly kill me?" she asked, "what harm have I done?"
+
+"You've come sneaking in here, and in this darkness, and I hit you
+when you banged open the door. It seems you were falling over the
+doorstep. You're pretty pale, my girl, but I believe I know your
+face. Aren't you from Les Casquets?"
+
+"I'm Ellenor Cartier, yes. And you--you're Monsieur Le Mierre, from
+Orvilliere."
+
+He scowled and looked for a minute as if he meditated another
+blow--then he swore roundly in the Norman-French that he and all the
+islanders spoke.
+
+"How the devil did you know me in this darkness! You're a witch, it
+seems, and it isn't the first time I've thought it. You are not a
+beauty, my girl. But come, tell me, how did you recognize me?"
+
+"I've seen you to church, to St. Pierre du Bois, but you were all
+dressed up then; and I've seen you driving to the market of a
+Saturday morning sometimes."
+
+He laughed and bent a little closer. Her eyes were like stars as
+they were lifted to his face. And she did not appear to fear him in
+the very least.
+
+"Well, it's a joke, isn't it, the difference between Dominic Le
+Mierre of a Sunday and Dominic Le Mierre in this place, my clothes
+all wet with sea-water. And now, tell me, witch, why do you think
+I'm here, in the Haunted House?"
+
+"I couldn't say, I'm sure."
+
+He was silent, staring hard into the candid, fearless eyes; then
+impulsively he cried,
+
+"I believe I can trust you! But, I warn you, if you let out why I'm
+here, I'll kill you."
+
+"You can trust me. I'd be killed before I'd let out."
+
+A soft shadow darkened the clearness of her eyes: her long eyelashes
+fell before his puzzled stare.
+
+"But why, bah! it appears you're not afraid of me, then! Very well.
+I'll tell you. It is the best way out of the difficulty. But sit up
+against this barrel, and drink a little brandy. I've stopped the
+bleeding in your head with a black enough cobweb."
+
+Ellenor tried to raise herself up, but loss of blood had made her
+giddy, and Dominic put his arm round her and steadied her roughly,
+but not unkindly. Her dark head rested a second against his blue
+jerseyed shoulder, and once more she lifted her eyes to his. With
+brusque and evidently totally unpremeditated passion he kissed her
+red lips.
+
+"There! didn't I say you are a witch! I could laugh at myself for
+this--I, Le Mierre, of one of the oldest families of St. Pierre du
+Bois to be kissing a girl like you, a girl who carries fish to
+market, tramp, tramp, all the way in the rain or in the sun! And,
+moreover, I, Le Mierre, oh, so respectable and fine of a Sunday,
+pulling a long face in my pew, and yet, behold, here I am a
+smuggler, keeping guard over brandy and lace and silks! And why the
+devil did I kiss you, for it isn't that you are a pretty girl or
+enticing, eh?"
+
+The girl trembled and turned away her head.
+
+"Perhaps I am not pretty, but you've kissed me for all that, and
+better still, you've told me your secret. I think it's a mean thing
+to be a smuggler: but I'd die before I'd tell anyone _you_ was a
+smuggler. That I promise you!"
+
+"Good! And why are you ready to promise me so quick? I'm inclined to
+be afraid you'll let out, after all. I've been a fool to trust you."
+
+He grasped her arm roughly and knitting his brows was buried in
+thought again. But she broke in on his silence, with blazing eyes of
+such beauty that he understood why he had kissed her.
+
+"Not a bit of it, Monsieur Le Mierre! A man is not a fool to trust a
+girl who ... likes ... him!"
+
+"But, that's all very well! How is it you like me? You've never
+spoken to me before."
+
+"I've seen you to church; and one can like people without speaking
+to them."
+
+He laughed. "Perhaps _you_ can, but I can't! Well, the job's done
+now, so I suppose I'll have to trust you. Next time you see me to
+church, you won't believe it's me you've really seen here. But you
+must be off--or else the other chaps will catch you. Look here, I'm
+sorry I've made your head bleed! and you'll have to tell a pack of
+lies to explain why there's a cut under your hair. Are you afraid
+to tell lies, eh?"
+
+"Not to keep you safe."
+
+"Well, you're no coward I must say. And now, stop a bit, how much
+money do you expect me to give you to keep a still tongue in your
+head?"
+
+"Money! not a double!"
+
+"Bah, I can't believe it, and if ever you need it to help your
+father and mother, you come to me. But quick, you must go, it seems
+to me I hear somebody coming. There, you're over the step, run,
+quick, it _is_ the men, coming up the cliff!"
+
+When she had disappeared into the darkness, Le Mierre muttered to
+himself, "I'm _ensorcelai_, that's certain, for I've never found out
+what brought the girl here at all!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II.
+
+
+It was winter, always a time for enjoyment in the days of old
+Guernsey, when evening after evening, people met together at the
+_Veilles_, to knit and sing and to tell stories of witchcraft and
+weird tales of the sea.
+
+Colomberie Farm was glowing with warmth and light, and swarming with
+company on the evening of the twenty-first of December, for it was
+the special festival of _longue veille_. The spotless wooden table
+in the middle of the sanded floor was piled high with woollen goods
+of every kind, which had been knitted by men and women at former
+_veilles_. The dark blue of "jerseys" and "guernseys" were an
+effective background for stacks of white woollen stockings and
+scarlet caps.
+
+"My good," said Mrs. Cartier, of Les Casquets Cottage, "there's
+never yet bin so many things for the Christmas Eve market! It's that
+we must have worked well! What do you say, mesdames?"
+
+A torrent of agreement, poured out in Norman-French, swallowed up
+her small pipe; and Mesdames from all the countryside gathered
+closer round the table to inspect the good work and pack it up for
+transmission to market. Mesdames were comely and rosy, excellent and
+thrifty housewives, delighted at the thought of the gold and silver
+that the warm cosy garments represented.
+
+The men of the company stood idly by, flirting and smoking and
+provoking giggles and pretty foolish speeches from the girls, who
+queened it openly on these occasions. Even the elderly men, seated
+on wooden stools in the deep recess of the wide chimney, turned
+their withered nut-cracker faces from the glow of the _vraicq_ fire,
+to smile leniently on "les jeunes gens."
+
+A few serious groups of born story-tellers and eager listeners sat
+on the floor where the flickering light of the _crasset_ shadowed
+and then brightened the healthy beauty of the girls and the warm tan
+of fishermen's faces. Everybody was happy, and gaiety and laughter
+held the night.
+
+But to one girl, joy meant so much that she had crept away with it
+to the dark staircase, spiral and stone, that rose from the wide
+entry to the top of the house. She sat on the third step from the
+floor, and from her position she commanded a full view of half the
+kitchen. Her eyes, deep and dark with excitement, yet almost
+blinding in their gaze of rapture, rested on the face of Dominic Le
+Mierre who sat on the _jonquiere_ in the corner of the hearth. He
+was alone and appeared to be absorbed in watching the group of
+story-tellers under the _crasset_. His sombre handsome face wore an
+expression of extreme boredom. He had said, a few moments ago to
+Ellenor Cartier, the girl on the stairs, that he detested the
+_veilles_, but that he was bound to be present, as master of
+Orvilliere Farm. He had added, moreover, a remark that had flooded
+Ellenor's heart with the joy that had caused her to creep away by
+herself into the darkness.
+
+It was her presence, he assured her, with a stare into her trusting
+eyes, that drew him to Colomberie Farm to-night, otherwise he would
+have been out fishing beyond Pleinmont Point. Dominic had chuckled
+to himself many times during the past months when he reviewed his
+position towards Ellenor. Since the meeting in the Haunted House, he
+had seen her not a few times, and he had rivetted round her a chain
+which linked her closely to himself. He had exerted the masterful
+fascination which was his to bring her completely under his power.
+Love is a stronger motive than even hate. He made Ellenor love him
+that he might be sure she would keep secret his dealings with
+smugglers. He felt absolutely certain that if once she cared for him
+she would be loyal, even to death. Therefore he fanned the flame of
+the liking she had openly avowed into a wide spreading blaze, which
+might burn up her peace and contentment, for all he cared, he said
+to himself, with a derisive laugh.
+
+In spite of scorn and derision, however, he felt an interest in her
+which was quite foreign to his selfish and exploiting nature. With
+admirable perseverance he crushed every rising of this interest and
+stamped it under foot. But it proved strangely unconquerable, and it
+rose again and again, vital and conflicting, to taunt him with its
+indestructibility. He certainly could not have told himself why he
+liked to meet this girl so often on the sly and why he liked to kiss
+her red lips and make her eyes shine into his. But the fact that he
+_did_ like the meetings and _did_ look forward to the kisses, was
+quite a dominant factor in his life. Still, these things were apart:
+ambition, money, reputation were more to the master of Orvilliere
+Farm than all the girls in creation. He had not the slightest
+intention of marrying a peasant girl, but he did intend to have a
+rich well-born wife--a pretty one, if possible.
+
+As he sat on the _jonquiere_, he watched keenly, in a business-like
+spirit, the gay gestures and pretty dimples of Blaisette Simon, who
+was the most eager listener of the story-telling group. He had often
+thought of her as a possible wife. But she was such a universal
+flirt, that, hitherto, he had received no special encouragement.
+To-night, however, he felt inclined to exert the full power of
+attraction which he was quite capable of appreciating and using. All
+women, whether they avow it or not, love to find their master and
+bend to him; and Dominic was of the very essence of virility.
+Indeed, one outspoken girl of Torteval parish said she would rather
+be beaten by Le Mierre than be kissed by a man all gentleness and
+kindness.
+
+In a few minutes, Blaisette had left the story-tellers and joined
+Dominic on the _jonquiere_. She had not the faintest idea how it was
+she had risen to go to him, but his welcome was of the most
+delightful, his voice was tender and deep, his eye spoke eloquently
+of her beauty. Blaisette had never known him in such a compelling
+mood. Her foolish, weak little head was turned; his gross flattery
+was nectar to her greedy vanity. He was generally so taciturn, so
+cold, so aloof. And Blaisette plumed herself on being the cause of
+this wonderful unbending of his. By supper time they had advanced
+into the thick of a serious flirtation: and more than one person
+remarked on the absorbed couple on the _jonquiere_.
+
+Of course Ellenor saw it all, at first with unconcern, then with
+growing alarm. The rapture died out of her face, which stiffened
+into tragic lines of misery and jealousy. Every blush and pretty
+gesture of Blaisette's called forth a new expression in the large
+clear eyes of the watcher on the stairs. Hitherto it had not entered
+into her head that Dominic might make her his wife; but, likewise,
+she had never yet pictured a Madame Orvilliere who would take up the
+master's time and prevent the stolen meetings that were so dear to
+her. Now, as she watched Dominic's marked attentions to Blaisette,
+as she saw him, more than once, lay his hand on hers, she realized
+the meaning of the scene in the chimney corner. He would marry the
+rich girl. She turned sick and giddy with jealousy. Rising, she
+groped her way into the garden, and, without cloak or hat, she ran
+down the quiet lanes and along the high road to the moorland of
+Pleinmont, where her little home received her with its homely air of
+comfort. She crept up to her attic bedroom, and when her father and
+mother returned home, she would give no account of her sudden
+disappearance from the _veille_.
+
+"I've brought your cloak and hat," whined Mrs. Cartier, "you must be
+mad to go home without them! But, there, one never knows what you
+will do next."
+
+"Leave the girl alone," broke in the father's voice, "she was tired
+out, she had done the best part of the packing up--it was Blaisette
+herself told us that. And, Monsieur Le Mierre, he said you were a
+hard-working girl and would make a good servant, if I'd let you go
+out. He laughed when he said this, did Monsieur, and it's my belief
+he'll marry Blaisette before long. It looks as if they meant to keep
+company. Well, good-night, my girl! I must be off fishing in an
+hour!"
+
+Christmas Day, not in the least typical, dawned over the heights of
+Pleinmont in pale gold and soft grey; and the hours that followed
+were mild and cloudy as those of a day in Spring. The inmates of Les
+Casquets Cottage ate their humble Christmas dinner of a small piece
+of beef and a rough kind of raisin pudding; then Jean and his wife
+composed themselves to the unusual luxury of an afternoon sleep.
+Ellenor was too restless to stay at home. She wandered over the
+cliffs and insensibly she made, at last, for the Haunted House.
+
+She threw herself on the grass at the back of the grim, gaunt
+building, and she tried to collect the miserable, wandering thoughts
+which were forever haunting her--thoughts of Dominic and Blaisette.
+All at once, a musical whistle startled her, and Le Mierre himself
+came up the cliff, a fish basket slung over his shoulder.
+
+"You here, Ellenor!" he cried, sitting down beside her, "on
+Christmas Day and all alone! Where, then, are all your beaux?"
+
+"You know quite well I've got none, and don't want none, Monsieur,"
+she replied sulkily.
+
+"Come, come, do you expect me to believe that of a pretty girl like
+you?"
+
+"Pretty!" she echoed scornfully, "it's your Blaisette Simon that's
+as pretty as a wax doll. It isn't me, Monsieur, with my black
+looks!"
+
+He laughed and put his arm round her. At his touch she trembled and
+a lovely colour rose in her pale face. Then, with slow, and as if
+involuntary, movement, her head nestled against his shoulder.
+
+"That's right!" he said, "now you are a sensible girl. Let's be
+happy while we can. So you call Blaisette _mine_, do you! What a
+foolish Ellenor to be jealous of her. She's quite different from
+you, can't you see that she doesn't set a man's blood on fire like
+you do, witch?"
+
+"That's all very well, Monsieur, but you told father to the _veille_
+that I would make a good servant and he thought perhaps you would
+wish to engage me for when you marry Blaisette, and I saw you with
+her on the _jonquiere_!"
+
+"Well, _sorciere_, is it that I must speak only to you? And what if
+I _do_ marry Blaisette?"
+
+With a quick look into his amused eyes, she lifted her head from his
+shoulder and withdrew from his careless embrace. But it was only for
+a moment. In abandonment of grief and devotion she flung herself
+against his breast.
+
+"I don't care," she sobbed, "if you marry Blaisette! I don't care
+if, even, I come to be your servant, but, for the sake of God, love
+me the best."
+
+He smiled triumphantly over her hidden face and lightly kissed her
+dark hair.
+
+"Good, there you shew sense! But, tell me, you can't be really
+jealous if you're willing for me to marry Blaisette? Why, you might
+even let out about what goes on in this Haunted House, just to vex
+me. And how do I know you won't do it, even yet?"
+
+"I'd die first!" she cried, looking up proudly.
+
+"That's settled then! And now let me tell you a secret, just to
+reward you. I am not even thinking of marriage with Blaisette Simon.
+Come, how many kisses will you give me for that piece of news?"
+
+So heaven opened for Ellenor, and the rest of Christmas Day was
+spent in going over and over again every word he had said to her
+behind the Haunted House. She was unusually amiable at home, and her
+father, who was devoted to her, rejoiced in the sunshine of her
+ready smiles and bright ways.
+
+This mood lasted but a few days. On New Year's Day she went to
+Colomberie Farm to help in the kitchen, for there was much to be
+done in the way of preparing refreshments for the constant string of
+guests who came to bring greetings and presents to the pretty
+Blaisette, the rich, desirable heiress.
+
+Ellenor's duty was to take fresh relays of cake and wine into the
+best parlour: and towards the end of the afternoon, when it was
+dusk, and the lamps were not yet lit, she entered the room suddenly,
+intent on business. There were only two people seated by the fire.
+One was Blaisette, a vision of dainty prettiness in a new blue gown;
+the other was Dominic Le Mierre.
+
+He held the girl's hand in his. He was bending forward to kiss her
+as Ellenor entered the room. From the heaven of the last few days,
+she fell into a hell of jealousy and bitter hatred of Blaisette. At
+once she turned and fled from the room. It was all very well to
+speak of his marriage with another girl, when she herself was in his
+arms. It was another thing to see him kiss the pink and white face
+of her rival. She could not bear it. Once more she rushed from
+Colomberie Farm in bitter despair and unreasoning grief.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III.
+
+
+It was Spring. Dominic Le Mierre still played a double game and
+there was no talk of an engagement between Blaisette and himself. He
+met Ellenor secretly; and was often at Colomberie Farm, where he was
+a welcome visitor, not only to the daughter, but to the father, who
+valued the advice and skill of the master of Orvilliere in all
+things pertaining to the management of the farm. Now, in the
+springtime, the countryside was stirring into new life, and masters
+and men alike were full of enthusiasm over the tilling of the soil
+and the expectation of good crops to come. Monsieur Le Mierre had
+sent round word to his neighbours that on a certain day in March he
+would hold the working festival of _La Grand' Querrue_, or _The
+Grand Plough_. That meant the combination of these neighbours into a
+band of all day workers, for the purpose of deeply trenching a
+certain field in preparation for the cultivation of parsnips. The
+large expensive plough to be used was the joint property of Le
+Mierre and his richer neighbours, and it was, naturally, available
+for each in turn. Every master brought his men and his horses and
+bullocks to the fray, and at seven o'clock in the morning the work
+and jollity began.
+
+The field to be ploughed lay at the base of cliffs covered with the
+tender grass and golden gorze bushes of early Spring. Deep purple
+scentless violets clustered in sheltered nooks, where granite,
+ivy-covered boulders rose grimly along the slopes and little ravines
+of the cliffs. Primroses, many of them milk white, starred the
+grass; and wild blue hyacinths grew tall and graceful in damp
+patches shaded by stunted trees. But the special field in question
+lay bare to the sky, surrounded by low hedges, and of a rich red
+brown colour.
+
+Six bullocks and sixteen horses drew the large plough, and Dominic
+Le Mierre was captain of the team. He looked his very best, for the
+work drew out the strength and will of the man. The pose of his
+body, the skill of his movements, the carriage of his head, marked
+him as the typical worker of the fields, a very king of farmers. His
+energy and vitality inspired the other men, and no one could believe
+it was time for _mi-matin_ when ten o'clock chimed out from the
+church behind the cliffs. But when the spell of work was broken, the
+men found they were very hungry, and fell upon the bread and butter,
+cheese and strong coffee, with tremendous appetites. These good
+things were brought down in large baskets from Orvilliere; and the
+men scattered in little groups as they ate and drank, discussed
+farming, or looked out over the wide sea just beyond the field, and
+wondered if fishing would pay this year.
+
+Suddenly Le Mierre gave the call for a return to work, and again the
+glorious ploughing went forward till noon. Then the cattle were
+unharnessed and allowed to feed, two men being left in charge of
+them. The rest of the workers climbed the hill to Orvilliere, where
+a substantial dinner was provided. There was cabbage soup, a
+_palette_ or big boiled ham, a piece of pork, a round of beef and
+other things loved of Guernseymen, not forgetting copious draughts
+of island cider. Two o'clock saw the men once more at the ploughing,
+and the afternoon dragged a little till four o'clock, when the
+housekeeper and the maids from Orvilliere appeared, bringing each
+her large basket of _mirelevee_. This meant tea and currant cake,
+and probably cider. A halt was called. Once more the men grouped
+themselves into unconscious picturesquesness, and ate and drank to
+their fill. But at this _al fresco_ meal a delightful air of
+familiarity and coquetry made itself felt by the presence of the
+rosy maidens from Orvilliere; above all by the appearance of
+Blaisette Simon, who brought down a special batch of cakes, made and
+cooked by herself. Le Mierre was at her side at once and a pretty
+flirtation sprang up, for the master was in an excellent temper and
+the girl was marvellously taken by the handsome power and devilry of
+the captain of the work. Never had she seen him look half so well,
+she said to herself. Ah, if he proposed, she would not feel inclined
+to refuse him! She leant over the hedge and looked out to sea, and
+he stood close beside her, his blue jerseyed shoulder brushing the
+stray gold of her hair. Lovers they seemed, even if lovers in
+reality they were not.
+
+So thought Ellenor Cartier as she watched them from the little cove
+below the field. She stood, a solitary figure against the sky, on
+the rough arm of a little harbour where she waited for the return of
+her father from fishing. She had been watching for the red sail of
+his boat since three o'clock, but she had turned many times to send
+hungry, lingering looks at the field, above all at the prominent
+figure of Le Mierre. When Blaisette came, in the glory of a new gown
+and a pink sunbonnet, it seemed to Ellenor that life was harder than
+she could bear, for she was shut out from the _Grand Plough_. Her
+father had not been asked to help, he was too much beneath the rank
+of Le Mierre; therefore no excuse could be framed to admit her into
+the enchanted field. Jealousy sharpened her eyesight, she thought
+she could see the white hand of Blaisette slip through Dominic's
+arm. It was too much. She turned away and looked out to sea, blinded
+by tears.
+
+The red sail of Cartier's boat fluttered in the breeze that blew
+from the land, and with swift grace the little craft came into
+harbour. Ellenor dashed the tears from her eyes and smiled down at
+the men in the boat as they fastened it to a hook in the breakwater
+and climbed up beside her. Her father was her friend, her refuge,
+her comfort; and something of his influence over her seemed to
+belong to the other man, his mate. Perrin Corbet was tall and
+angular, without the slightest pretention to good looks, but with a
+fund of good nature and humour in his grey eyes, and when he smiled
+back at Ellenor a shy tenderness glorified his plain face into
+something far beyond mere beauty of feature.
+
+The men and Ellenor crossed the sandy cove and climbed the winding
+cliff path which led directly past the _Grand Plough_. Jean and
+Perrin lingered to watch the splendid action of Le Mierre, as, once
+more, he led the line of animals: but Ellenor walked on and never
+even glanced to see if Blaisette were still in the field. She did
+not wait for the men and kept a little ahead of them as she mounted
+the cliff to the moorland above. Her head was bent, her arms hung
+down listlessly.
+
+Suddenly, round a bend in the path, a number of children appeared in
+evident high glee. They stopped when they reached the men and
+explained, all speaking at once, that they were going to see _La
+Grand' Querrue_. Perrin, who loved children, listened patiently to
+the shrill little voices and patted the innocent faces.
+
+"But we can't go on yet!" exclaimed the eldest of the group, "we are
+waiting for little Marie, she stopped to tie up her shoe. Ah, there
+she is!"
+
+Perrin looked up and saw that Ellenor had lifted little Marie in her
+arms and was bringing her to the other children. The golden haired
+baby nestled her head against the girl's breast: and her chubby arm
+was thrown round Ellenor's neck. The two made a sweet picture. The
+girl's sombre face was softened by contrast with the lovely little
+head pressed confidingly against her. The eternal wonder of mother
+and child is seen whenever a woman has a baby in her arms, and
+though Perrin could not have explained the thrill that swept over
+him, he knew in his heart that the sight of the two together moved
+him to an intense longing, an intense reverence. In his nature was
+none of the coarse fibre which so often marks the men whose lives
+are all action, danger and privation. When Ellenor kissed little
+Marie and put her down with a gentleness unusual to herself,
+Perrin's thoughts rang of what she would be as a mother. His heart
+throbbed suddenly as he dared to drag to light a long-hidden
+secret--kept hitherto from himself. He loved her. He had loved her
+from childhood, when he, a big clumsy boy, had taken her part, and
+fought her battles, at the parish school. He wanted her for his
+wife. He wanted her for the mother of his children.
+
+Ah, what a picture rose before him as his thoughts painted rapidly!
+A little cottage on the moorland; a rose red _vraic_ fire; Ellenor
+seated in a low chair, beside her a cradle; on her lap, a little
+baby, with wide sad eyes like hers. He saw himself enter the cottage
+and fling his net into a corner; he felt her kiss on his lips,
+and....
+
+"Wake up, Corbet! Not a word have you spoken since we left those
+children--and what with you as glum as a fish and Ellenor gone in
+front, its precious dull for me!"
+
+Cartier slapped his friend on the back, and Perrin exerted himself
+to chat and laugh. Then, all at once, Jean broke into the talk of
+parish gossip.
+
+"Look here, _mon gars_, I'm not happy about Ellenor. She is unhappy,
+worse and worse each day; and so bad tempered. You know she never
+gets on with her mother, poor girl; but now, even at me she snaps,
+and, God knows, I love her well, and she loves me."
+
+Perrin was silent.
+
+"Does she treat you properly?" went on Cartier.
+
+"Well, to tell you the truth, she is not very polite at times, but I
+would not blame her. She always looks so sad, and, as you say, worse
+than ever just now. Perhaps she's _ensorchelai_, who can say!"
+
+"I've thought of that--perhaps I'll get her to tell me. Well, this
+is your way--so a bientot, Perrin, a bientot!"
+
+Corbet made his way to his home, a cottage not far from the
+outskirts of the moorland at whose edge stood the Haunted House. He
+lived with his mother, a widow and an invalid. She hardly ever left
+the cottage, but she made it a palace of happiness to her son. Her
+lovely placid old face brooded over his every want and his every
+look. She lived the life of a saint and had brought up her son to
+fear God and none else. Perrin's religious life was a deep reality
+to him: he never spoke of it, but in it he moved, at home, in the
+conscious joy of the presence of God.
+
+Every night, when his mother had gone to bed in her tiny attic, he
+knelt long beside the _jonquiere_ in the corner of the hearth: and
+every night he prayed for Ellenor, naming her softly after the
+beloved word "mother."
+
+But this night. _Ellenor_ was first on his lips. Why was she
+unhappy? Why was she so unkind to the father she loved? Ah, if one
+could see right through her dark eyes into her sorrowful heart, one
+might have a chance of comforting her! But, as it was, one felt
+useless and blundering.
+
+His head bent lower. Broken words came from his lips. A deep
+mysterious silence held the man in awe. It was as though One stood
+beside him while he prayed. And to that One he spoke of Ellenor.
+
+At that very hour she was running quickly along the high road to
+Orvilliere. The moon, full and soft as pearl, rode high in the
+cloudless sky. The stars glinted like silver fires. But the beauty
+of the night was lost upon Ellenor. It seemed to her as if she would
+never reach her destination. At last, at last, she was at the top of
+the valley which sloped to the farm! As she ran down hill, she could
+hear the sound of music and the ring of laughter. The _Grand Plough_
+supper, the _finale_ of the day's work and feasting, was evidently
+in full swing. When she reached the house she crept up to one of the
+windows and peered in. The hired fiddler and man with the flute and
+the man with the "serpent" sat on the _jonquiere_. The kitchen was
+full of people, eating and drinking round a long table covered with
+great pieces of meat and puddings of every description.
+
+At the head of the table was Dominic Le Mierre, evidently the worse
+for drink, which, however had not made him idiotic, but which had
+maddened him into wild and extravagant excitement. Beside him was
+Blaisette Simon, dressed in a quaint muslin gown which accentuated
+her childlike and piquante beauty. Her father, easy-going Mess'
+Simon, looked on smilingly at the orgie around him, and seemed not
+in the least disturbed when Dominic drew his arms round Blaisette
+and kissed her repeatedly. She gave an affected little scream and
+pretended to be shocked, but Dominic laughed all the louder, and
+cried to all the guests to drink her health.
+
+And all the while, Ellenor looked on with wide eyes of jealousy. In
+the presence of Dominic she forgot all goodness, all restraint, she
+only longed passionately to be in the place of Blaisette. Not in the
+least knowing what she did, she opened the house door and entered
+the kitchen. At first she was not noticed, so great was the noise
+and misrule. Suddenly Blaisette caught sight of her, and pointed her
+out to Dominic with a foolish giggle.
+
+"I've been told she's mad after you," she whispered, "and it seems
+it's true since she has forced her way into here!"
+
+Dominic was not only furious, but fearful of disclosures. He rose
+unsteadily to his feet, and pointed at Ellenor.
+
+"Be off with you!" he cried, "how dare you come here, you
+_impudante_!"
+
+The girl of Les Casquets Cottage stood as if turned to stone. She
+did not know what she had expected when she entered the room.
+Blind, mad impulse had moved her to a mad act. But this was like
+death to her, this harsh voice, this volley of rough words. When she
+did not move, Dominic reeled down the room, and taking her by the
+shoulders, he pushed her into the entrance hall and locked the
+kitchen door.
+
+When she came to herself, she never dreamt of blaming Dominic.
+
+"It's all _her_ fault!" she said to herself, climbing the hill
+swiftly, "it's every bit her fault; and as sure's as she's alive,
+I'll pay her out!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV.
+
+
+The sudden appearance of Ellenor at the Grand Plough supper was
+talked of all over the countryside; and the story of it soon
+penetrated to Les Casquets Cottage. Mrs. Cartier made her usual
+futile remark that "one never knew what the girl would do next," and
+whined and canted about the matter for days together. Jean was very
+angry at Ellenor's want of proper pride in thrusting herself where
+she was not considered good enough to enter; but neither parent
+guessed at the real state of affairs.
+
+Le Mierre managed to waylay Ellenor some days after _La Grand'
+Querrue_, and a few careless kisses and slighting remarks of
+Blaisette bound the girl of the cottage closer to him than ever. As
+for Dominic, he told himself that he could not and would not give up
+the stolen meetings with Ellenor. They were far too exciting, for
+the girl was one to set a man on fire, with her passionate
+demonstrations of love, and her wild, untamed nature. Thus the
+Spring passed, and the long days of Summer gladdened workers and
+idlers alike.
+
+It was June, and Perrin Corbet was busy day and night at the
+fishing. He and Cartier put away a good bit of money, but they
+never entrusted it to safer keeping than certain old purses locked
+up in their cottage homes. Each man toiled, not to save merely, but
+to keep a sum of money put by for those he cared for. If Perrin had
+hopes of nearer relationship to Cartier, he was doomed to
+disappointment. He had begun to court Ellenor persistently, and she,
+as persistently, shunned him.
+
+One evening, as he was returning from Rocquaine Bay after a long
+day's fishing, he met Ellenor in a shady lane. She had been milking
+and carried on her arm the large shining can which it was her pride
+to keep like silver.
+
+"What's the matter, Ellenor?" he said at once, "you look as white as
+death! Is it you are ill?"
+
+She laughed mockingly.
+
+"Have you ever known me to be ill! Surely this warm weather is
+enough to make one look white! And far from being ill, I am much
+amused at what I have seen just now. Will I tell you about it?"
+
+"My good, yes, tell me, I am only too pleased if you talk to me.
+Shall we go up to Les Casquets together? I was going there to see
+your father."
+
+As they walked side by side she began to speak rapidly.
+
+"Well, this amusing thing I have seen! Listen! I was at the top of
+the valley that leads to Orvilliere Farm this morning when, all at
+once, I saw a cart coming along. In it was a big chest made of oak
+and carved all over; and besides there was a box covered with
+leather and all over brass nails. Of course one knew at once what
+that meant! In the chest and in the box there was the linen for the
+house of some woman who was soon to be married, and it was being
+taken to the house of the bridegroom. Sure enough, it seems I was
+right, for tied to the cart behind was the cow the father of the
+bride would give! Then, close to the cart, on the side, there was a
+girl I knew. She was the nearest woman relation of Blaisette Simon,
+and she was carrying a looking glass. I knew what all those things
+meant--a marriage soon to take place. So I looked again, and I saw
+that the man who was leading the cart was Dominic Le Mierre, the
+master of Orvilliere, and he turned down the hill that leads to the
+farm. He didn't see me--him--he was chatting and laughing with the
+girl cousin of Blaisette, and telling her not to let the looking
+glass fall, or that would be bad luck. Now, Perrin Corbet, tell me,
+what do you think all that means?"
+
+She breathed quickly and turned her face away from him.
+
+"Means!" echoed the fisherman, "of course it means only one thing,
+that there will soon be a wedding, that the bride will be Blaisette
+Simon and the bridegroom will be Dominic Le Mierre. But why do you
+ask me? You said you knew yourself what it meant when you saw the
+chest in the cart!"
+
+"Bah, don't be so stupid and tease me like that! There might be some
+mistake. And what do I care if she does marry him?"
+
+"I wonder you haven't heard it talked of before, Ellenor, for all
+Torteval has said long ago they would make a match."
+
+"Well, let people chat as much as they like! _He_ don't care for
+her, that I know. It's only her money he's after. She is a silly
+little fool, all pink and white and yellow hair."
+
+"Perhaps! But all we men can see that she is a very pretty girl. And
+how do you know he don't care for her, eh?"
+
+"How dare you to question me like this! Never mind how I know, but I
+do."
+
+"Well, my girl, I can tell you all about it. It would seem that Le
+Mierre has been making a fool of you. All Torteval knows it. And
+there's times and times I've seen you together; and him making love
+to you."
+
+"You're a sneak and a liar! So you've spied on us, Perrin Corbet,
+have you?"
+
+The fisherman was absolutely unmoved by her rudeness. His love was
+beyond and above any feeling of even proper pride.
+
+"I've not spied on you at all, but it wasn't my fault if you didn't
+see me; and you never gave me a chance of telling you all this
+before. He's sure and certain to marry Blaisette. It's as good as if
+she was his wife now you've seen the cart taking the linen to
+Orvilliere. Don't be vexed with me. It's for your good I speak. You
+know how I love you, Ellenor."
+
+"Bah, who cares for your love! I was a fool to tell you the amusing
+thing I've seen. And I tell you, once more, he don't love Blaisette
+Simon."
+
+"Well, have it your own way! I've nothing more to say about the
+marriage. But I've a mind to go to warn Blaisette about her husband
+to be."
+
+Ellenor turned on Perrin a look of wild terror and anger.
+
+"If I could, I'd kill you, because I hate you so! You would go to
+tell Blaisette that you've seen me and him together!"
+
+"I would do no such thing. But I would wish to warn her that Dominic
+is mixed up with smugglers."
+
+A dead silence was at last broken by Ellenor's husky words.
+
+"How do you know he's mixed up with smugglers?"
+
+"Listen to my tale this time," he said, "but it isn't at all
+amusing. One night I was off the point of the cliffs below the
+Haunted House. I was in my boat, fishing for _bream_. It was full
+moon, but me and my boat were in shadow. None could see us. By and
+bye--I saw a long, narrow boat shoot out from a cave not far off
+from me. In it were three or four black looking foreigners. They
+pushed their boat close under the cliffs and waited, full an hour.
+Then, by and bye, down came Le Mierre and another man with bundles
+of silk, or what looked like it ... and the fellow in the boat got
+up and caught hold of the bundles and went off with them like the
+very devil. Le Mierre and his man were up the cliff again before I
+could whistle to them that I was by. I've meant to tell Le Mierre
+some day; and it seems to me now's the time for him and his girl to
+know."
+
+"And what good would that be, I'd like to be told! He'd only do his
+best to pay you out for being a sneak."
+
+"I've thought, too, of letting the constables of the parish know of
+it," pursued Corbet quietly.
+
+"And a fine row there'd be! Do you think you, a poor fisherman,
+would be believed when you went to tell tales of him, a rich farmer!
+Bah, you must be mad, Perrin Corbet."
+
+Now the fisherman had all the island reverence for his betters. He
+really spoke to ease his mind; but he was very far from longing to
+deliver up Dominic to justice, in spite of the pricking of his
+conscience, which whispered to him that he was like an accomplice in
+a crime if he did not tell of the smuggling business. He was silent
+now, and Ellenor began to speak again.
+
+"If you take my advice you won't meddle with Monsieur Le Mierre at
+all. Are you forgetting that his family has always been well known
+for its wizards and witches? Bah, Perrin, have you so soon forgotten
+how the grandfather of Monsieur used to throw black powder on people
+if they offended him, and then they would be taken ill all of a
+sudden? And over and over again, at the _Sabbat des Sorciers_ of a
+Friday night on Catioroc Hill, the very mother of Dominic has been
+seen, dancing with all the rest!"
+
+Perrin stopped short and whistled.
+
+"Well, you won't hardly believe me, but I had quite forgotten! Of
+course now I remember all you say. No, no, I can't meddle with him.
+His whole family has always been known to have dealings with the
+devil. Well, here we are to Les Casquets, let's go in and perhaps
+your mother will give me a cup of tea."
+
+"Go in by yourself, if you like! As for me, I'm off, a bientot,
+Perrin!"
+
+Ellenor walked slowly in the direction which would lead her furthest
+away from the cottage. She wound in and out of low, prickly gorze
+bushes covering the moorland till she reached Pleinmont Point, then
+she ran down a gently sloping grass valley till she got to the sea.
+She had an appointment with Dominic at Pezerie, the bottom of the
+valley which skirted the rocky coast. It was blowing hard, and yet a
+dense mist hung over the sea. Once, like a ghost, a boat with a
+velvety brown sail, flitted across the Pezerie outlook. A bell
+tolled from Hanois Lighthouse.
+
+Ellenor shivered, and cruel forebodings took hold of her. Then, all
+at once, it was brilliant sunshine in her heart, for Dominic came
+running down the valley and clasped her in his arms. With sobs and
+passionate words of reproach and love, she asked him if it was true
+he was going to marry Blaisette.
+
+"Little silly child!" he said, with a laugh, "of course it is not
+true! There was no thought of _my_ marriage when I led the cart. I
+was just helping the cousin of Blaisette; one does not always
+exactly keep to old customs."
+
+Then she told him of Perrin and the smuggling; and he called her a
+clever _garce_ for stopping Corbet's mouth. He was in the gayest and
+most fascinating of moods, and Ellenor was in a heaven of joy, for
+his caresses and words had never before been so tender. It was late
+before they parted. He could not see her again for a few days, he
+explained, as he had special business on hand.
+
+The next day, when Ellenor was knitting outside Les Casquets, a
+messenger arrived from Orvilliere. He brought an invitation to Jean
+Cartier and to his wife and daughter, to attend the wedding of
+Monsieur Dominic Le Mierre and Mademoiselle Blaisette Simon.
+
+She stood up straight and tall to receive the blow. She did not
+flinch. Only her face was grey as ashes; and her large eyes looked
+like those of a hunted animal, as she accepted the invitation for
+her parents and herself.
+
+The wedding was fixed for that day week, and all the parish, indeed
+the two parishes of Saint Pierre du Bois and Torteval, were wild
+with excitement. Hundreds of people were invited; and for days
+before the ceremony the water lanes and marshes were visited by
+bands of young people eager to gather the _gllajeurs_, or wild marsh
+iris, to strew before the bride and bridegroom when they would leave
+the church.
+
+It was a lovely morning when Dominic stood before the altar in the
+old church of Saint Pierre du Bois and vowed to love and cherish
+fair Blaisette, a picture of sweet gentleness, and pretty coquetry
+in her fair white bridal gown. But the sun was black and the sky was
+lead to Ellenor, as she watched the bride and bridegroom walk down
+the aisle together, man and wife, arm in arm. She could have touched
+the bride, so close she stood to her as she passed; and Dominic's
+eyes fell upon her with a stony stare. For a maddening moment,
+Ellenor thought she would die. Then, her proud spirit re-asserted
+itself. She would go through the day carrying aloft her banner of
+self-respect. She would march to battle as if to the sound of music.
+As she made this resolution, a murmur of almost horror reached her
+from outside the church. She hastened to the porch in time to see
+that Blaisette was crying.
+
+"What is it?" she whispered to Perrin Corbet, who, all unnoticed,
+had kept close to her during the ceremony.
+
+"It's that she has remembered suddenly she came to the church a
+different way from what she does on Sundays. And of course we know
+it's dreadful bad luck, poor girl! It's certain there'll be
+something happen before the year is out."
+
+A gleam of joy lit up Ellenor's pale face.
+
+"Come along, Perrin, let's be off to Orvilliere--there's not too
+much time before dinner."
+
+Corbet looked at her doubtfully.
+
+"But, aren't you going to put on a different gown?"
+
+"And, pray, _impudant_, why, I'd like to know! This one is silk, and
+what more do you want?"
+
+"It's the colour I don't like! Scarlet for a day like this! You
+ought to be in white."
+
+But Ellenor only laughed at him. Not she give up her scarlet gown
+made of silk that Dominic had given her one night in the Haunted
+House!
+
+Orvilliere Farm was gay, outside and in, with garlands and crowns of
+flowers; and in the kitchen and in the field beside the house,
+tables were laid for the customary dinner of roast beef and mutton,
+plum pudding and _gache a corinthe_. Cider flowed liberally; and,
+after dinner, the guests were in fitting mood for the games that
+followed till tea-time. Then all the evening long, dancing waxed
+fast and furious, with intervals for songs. Dominic delighted the
+company by giving Ellenor a sounding kiss when she chose him for her
+partner in--
+
+    "Saluez, messieurs et dames,
+    Ah! mon beau laurier!"
+
+and all the company then shouted in chorus--
+
+    "Entr'embrassez-vous par le jeu d'amourette,
+    Entr'embrassez-vous par le jeu d'amour."
+
+But it is certain Ellenor would not have dared to choose the
+bridegroom had he not been half drunk. Perrin Corbet, a sober man
+himself, looked on in disgust; and glanced at Blaisette to see how
+she took it. But she was giggling as usual, and drinking mulled wine
+from one of the new wedding cups.
+
+At five in the morning the wedding party broke up; and all the
+guests said that Ellenor Cartier was a shameless girl. Perrin heard
+and clenched his fist.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V.
+
+
+"Quick! get up, Ellenor, you must have overslept yourself!" cried
+Jean Cartier one morning in August, as he woke his daughter with a
+loud knocking on the partition between the attic bedrooms of the
+cottage.
+
+"It's all right, father," the girl called in reply, "I've been up
+there's a long time, but I am putting the roses round my hat. The
+breakfast will be ready as soon as you're down."
+
+Jean dressed in particularly old clothes, and Mrs. Cartier chose out
+the shabbiest skirt she possessed, for they were preparing for a day
+of hard work on the beach. But, to their surprise, when they came
+down to breakfast, Ellenor wore a pretty gown of dark red stuff. She
+explained, carelessly, that indeed _she_ would not make herself a
+fright before all the countryside; and if the gown was spoilt, well,
+it couldn't be helped. Her parents said nothing, for Ellenor's
+temper was more uncertain than ever, and they dreaded an outbreak;
+but Mrs. Cartier had her suspicions.
+
+After breakfast the three started for Rocquaine Bay, where a lively
+scene was being played, for it was the time of _vraicing_ or
+sea-weed harvest. Lines of carts were ranged above high-water mark,
+and the patient horses were decked with flowers. The beach and sands
+swarmed with people all smiling and gay, and for the most part
+wearing nosegays. Rich and poor from two parishes chatted, laughed
+and worked hard with sickles at cutting the _vraic scie_ from the
+low rocks. Very soon, the beach was dotted with heaps of sea-weed,
+each marked by a pebble, bearing the owner's name in chalk. The more
+adventurous waded across the _cols_ or causeways to rocks at some
+distance from the shore and found rich stores of golden weed.
+Amongst these adventurous spirits was Ellenor. She had persuaded one
+of the farmers to take her on his horse to a high group of rocks,
+hidden from the beach by Rocquaine Tower, and here she worked
+undisturbed, and in full possession of a wonderful growth of
+_vraic_.
+
+She took off her hat, and her hair curled about her forehead in damp
+little rings, for the sun was scorching. A dusky red glowed in her
+tan cheeks; her eyes, shining with excitement and the joy of work,
+followed the skilled movements of the sickle she swung to and fro,
+and she was entirely absorbed in gathering in the precious _vraic_.
+But, all at once, she paused. She heard, distinctly, the splash of
+horse's feet. Someone was coming to interrupt her and share her
+harvest. She would not have it! She had first thought of these
+rocks! She would fight for her rights!
+
+The splashing came nearer. She did not turn round. A scrambling
+sound followed; then she heard heavy steps mount the rocks.
+
+"Ellenor," said a well-known voice, "what luck to find you quite
+alone here!"
+
+It was Dominic Le Mierre, and it was the first time the two had met
+alone since his wedding day. He took her hand and smiled into her
+eyes, which filled with tears.
+
+"You cheated me," she said, "you told me you were not going to marry
+her."
+
+He laughed and stooped to kiss her.
+
+"You silly girl! If I had told you I'd never have got so many kisses
+from you, and you wouldn't have liked that, eh! What difference does
+this marriage make to you and me, I'd like to know! Besides, don't
+pretend to be so good all of a sudden. Didn't you choose me at my
+wedding feast, and didn't I kiss you before everybody? Not that I
+remember it too well, for I had had a little drop, but I've been
+told of it since."
+
+"Ah, I was mad that night--mad with jealousy!"
+
+"Go on being mad!" he cried, "how well you look in that red gown,
+though it's a common rag besides the fine clothes of my
+milk-and-water wife. Bah, what a fool she is! Don't you know I
+married her for money and for her good family? But she is like a
+silly baby. Her pretty face doesn't touch me. She might stare at me
+for ever with her eyes of blue china, and my blood would lie quiet
+like a stagnant pond. As for you, witch, your eyes burn into me and
+set me in a blaze. And I vow you'll have to meet me pretty often.
+Where shall we agree to see each other to-morrow night?"
+
+"Nowhere," she replied sulkily.
+
+"I like that! What new trick are you up to now, pretending you don't
+want to meet me?"
+
+"I _do_ want to meet you!" she cried passionately, "but I've got a
+little bit of pride left, and I'm decided not to meet a married man
+on the sly!"
+
+He scowled and crushed her hands in his.
+
+"You know your character is gone as it is. You're talked of all over
+the parishes, people say you're mad after me--so, I'd just like to
+know what difference not meeting me will make."
+
+"I'm decided not to do it."
+
+"Very well, my fine lady, we'll see about that. Ah, you little fool,
+you've wasted the time and now I must go back, my horse is already
+up to his knees in water. And how will _you_ get back, I'd like to
+know!"
+
+"Perrin Corbet is coming to fetch me. Look, here he is."
+
+A quarter of an hour later, all the _vraicqueurs_ were gathered
+together on the beach to eat their meal in common. Every woman had
+brought _gache_, biscuits and special _vraicquing_ cakes: while the
+rich farmers had provided a plentiful supply of cider which had been
+brought down in little barrels swung to the carts. It was a merry
+time, and Blaisette Le Mierre was looked upon as the queen of the
+feast. Very few spoke to Ellenor, for she was shunned as a marked
+character. Only Perrin paid her every attention, and saw that she
+had everything of the best. As for Dominic, it appeared as if he did
+not even see her: and people said he had been persecuted and waylaid
+by Miss Ellenor, for it was evident he did not care a straw for such
+a girl.
+
+After the meal, some of the men carted away the _vraic_ to the farms
+over the cliffs, where it would be used to enrich the land. Others,
+with the help of the women, spread out the sea-weed, which was
+stored in heaps on the beach to dry. This, later on, would be used
+for fuel, and would give out its peculiar pungent smell, so dear
+and memory-stirring to all Channel Islanders.
+
+So the _vraicquing_ festival ended; and that night Ellenor sobbed
+herself to sleep, a passionate weary creature, too proud to bend to
+God and turn to goodness.
+
+It was November; and one evening as Perrin Corbet was crossing a
+hill on his return home from fishing, he thought he heard a low
+moaning. He stopped and listened. Was it the cry of a sea-gull
+flying into shelter from the storm which was approaching? Was it,
+perhaps, the spirit of some drowned fisherman haunting his house?
+No--it was the voice of a living woman in distress! He waited, and
+gradually traced the sound to a huge cromlech on the hill. He
+stopped at the entrance.
+
+"It is I, Perrin Corbet!" he said quietly, "is anyone in trouble?"
+
+"Yes, yes!" answered an eager voice, "come in and speak to
+me--Ellenor."
+
+"My dear girl," went on the fisherman's even voice, "what are you
+doing here?"
+
+"I've been hiding, there's an hour, from Dominic Le Mierre. Ah, it
+is no use, I must tell you all, for you never scold me and look
+black at me, like all the rest do. I said I wouldn't meet him now
+he's married, but the more I keep out of his way, the more it seems
+he finds me out."
+
+"Then you don't care for him no more, like all Torteval said you
+did?"
+
+"Care for him! Care! I love him with all my soul!"
+
+"And him such a black character, and a smuggler! There's times and
+times I've seen him again to the cliffs with queer fellows; and
+others have seen him, too. But nobody likes to give him up to the
+constables, except me, and I've settled it that I'll tell what he
+is after. He deserves it, the way he treats you. And it will be a
+fine way of disgracing him. I'll risk that he'll bewitch me."
+
+A dead silence followed his words. Then Ellenor's hand stole into
+his, and Ellenor's voice said softly,
+
+"Perrin, is it you love me yet?"
+
+He lifted her hand and kissed it.
+
+"I love you better than even my mother. I love you next best to
+God."
+
+"And yet, Perrin, I am not a good girl."
+
+"Don't dare to say that to me! You _are_ good when you are not
+thinking of that scoundrel. It's him that has made people speak
+about you like they do! But, listen, Ellenor, if you was the
+blackest of the black, I'd love you, because it's you, and because I
+was made to love you, once and for ever."
+
+She burst into a passion of tears.
+
+"That's how I love him! He's the blackest of the black--a liar, a
+smuggler, a cheat to his wife and to me, too fond of his glass,
+cruel to the poor, mad for money, pretending to be pious of a
+Sunday; and yet, yet, I love him, because it's him, and because I
+was made to love him, once and for ever."
+
+"My God! how you hurt me!" cried poor Perrin, clasping her hand
+closer in his.
+
+She cried quietly for a little while, and Corbet did not try to
+check her tears. His tender love made him wise and gentle as his own
+mother. At last she was quite still, and presently she said,
+
+"Perrin, if you love me, I'll be your wife some day."
+
+"Do you really mean it? It seems too good to be true. I can't take
+it in, as you see. And yet if it does come to pass, there'll be no
+man prouder than me in the whole of Guernsey!"
+
+"But, if I am to be your wife, there'll be a condition."
+
+"Condition! You can make a hundred, dear Ellenor."
+
+"I don't know if you'll agree to this one, however!"
+
+"Of course I will! I promise you beforehand."
+
+"Promise! Promise! Quickly!"
+
+He laughed gaily, wild with joy at her sweet mood and at the fair
+prospect the future held for him.
+
+"I promise I'll agree gladly to your condition, whatever it is."
+
+"Then listen to it. You have promised you'll never give up Monsieur
+Le Mierre to the constables."
+
+Perrin was silent for a long time; then he said, in a voice hoarse
+with emotion,
+
+"It seems I am a very stupid chap, and it takes me a little while to
+see what a woman is driving at. But though you are too clever for
+me, Ellenor, and caught me in a fine trap, I can make out the
+reason, the only reason, why you will be my wife. It is to save Le
+Mierre from disgrace."
+
+"Yes," she replied, "it is; and there is yet one more reason. I
+can't live to Les Casquets any longer. I'm too unhappy. Mother is
+always telling me what people say about me; no other tune do I hear
+all day long."
+
+"Well, it's quite plain you don't care a _double_ for me; but,
+still, I can take care of you, give you a home and thus stop the
+wagging of all the tongues in the parish. But, Ellenor, there is one
+thing I must speak about. I am willing to know you don't love me;
+willing to know you've given your heart to another man, and him a
+scoundrel. But, I couldn't stand it if you had meetings with him
+when you will be my wife, the daughter of my dear old mother. I'd
+kill you, I believe. God forgive me, if such a thing happened."
+
+"You needn't be afraid," she said in a dreary, colourless voice,
+"since now I am always getting out of his way. There is left a
+little pride in me yet. I can't bring such disgrace on my father.
+But every day I cry because I can't see him."
+
+"Well, I am satisfied! After all we know what each other means. And
+now, when will it be, this wedding of ours?"
+
+He tried to speak gaily, poor Perrin, but it was sad work. He
+succeeded at last in persuading her to agree to be married on
+Christmas Day: and then, fearful that she would change her mind, he
+said he would take her home at once, for it was getting late.
+
+As they descended the hill and crossed the bay, Perrin pointed out
+the gleaming of a light on Lihou, an islet within a stone's throw of
+Guernsey.
+
+"It seems that Le Mierre is living there just now to work at the
+iodine. His wife is with him. She is very delicate, it would appear,
+and not very happy, poor pretty Blaisette!"
+
+"Does he beat her?"
+
+"So people say. I can believe anything bad of Le Mierre."
+
+"It is not surprising. How bad I must be to love such a man! Perrin,
+why didn't God let me--_make_ me, love you instead?"
+
+Was this sad gentle voice in reality Ellenor's? Was this nestling
+hand hers? Did it really creep through his arm?
+
+"My girl, we must not dictate to God about what He does! I confess I
+don't understand half He lets happen to us. But I couldn't question
+it."
+
+"Poor Perrin!" she went on softly, "to care for me, of all the girls
+in the two parishes."
+
+"I wouldn't change you for the Queen on her throne?"
+
+He caught her to his breast and folded her to his heart. In the
+heaven of his faithful love she felt, at least, safe from her own
+lurid passion, and at rest from the biting remarks of her little
+world.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI.
+
+
+It was the night of Christmas Eve and the snow fell thick and fast.
+This weather, so unusual in the Channel Isles, had delayed Perrin
+Corbet in the little town of Saint Pierre Port, and it was past ten
+o'clock when he reached home. His mother had gone to bed, but not
+before she had prepared her son's supper and left the little kitchen
+the picture of comfort. After his meal, Perrin turned the lamp low,
+lit his pipe, and sat down in his mother's arm-chair before the
+_vraicq_ fire. The wind moaned in the huge chimney, with a cradling
+sound, but Perrin was not in the least inclined to sleep. To-morrow
+would be his wedding day. He could not realize it; he could not
+believe he would so soon reach the height of joy. He tried to
+picture to-morrow. Ellenor, in the white gown she had described to
+him, would stand before the altar, and he, her devoted lover, would
+take her hand and declare, before God and before the world, that she
+was to be his wife.
+
+Then, the rest of the day would be spent in quiet joy at Les
+Casquets Cottage, with his mother as the only guest of the Cartiers.
+He pictured the moment when he would say, taking out his watch,
+"Now, mother, now, Ellenor, it is time for us to go home."
+
+He would light the lantern, and with those two women, so dear, so
+precious, he would return to this very cottage, henceforth to be a
+palace to him, since Ellenor, his queen, would be his wife. He would
+deal so tenderly with her, for she had suffered much, his poor
+Ellenor! He would never reproach her if she seemed to fret after
+Dominic. She could not uproot, all at once, such a deep love. He
+would lead her gently back to the ways of religion which she had
+deserted. He would remind her, one quiet evening, that she was of
+those who were admitted to The Holy Supper of the Lord, for had she
+not been confirmed at the same time as he had? And, please God, she
+would listen to him. Perhaps, in days to come, she would learn to
+love him a little. Perhaps that joy would be his when baby hands
+clasped his rough brown fingers and a rosy baby mouth kissed his
+adoring lips!
+
+His pipe was out; and his head was bent as he dreamed of the morrow,
+his wedding day. For a moment, the wind had ceased its moaning and a
+deep stillness enfolded the cottage.
+
+Suddenly, a sharp tap rang through the kitchen. Perrin started, his
+dreams scattered. He listened, breathless, his island blood frozen,
+his Celtic temperament at once calling up visions of the
+supernatural.
+
+Again the tap sounded on the window; and this time, a familiar voice
+re-assured Perrin.
+
+"Let me in, Corbet, quick, I bring bad news."
+
+In a moment Cartier stood in the kitchen and cried breathlessly,
+
+"Have you seen Ellenor? She hasn't been home since early this
+afternoon!"
+
+The ruddy colour left Perrin's tanned face.
+
+"My God, no, I haven't seen her! What, then, can have happened?"
+
+Then, with graphic, trembling words, Jean told how Ellenor had gone
+to Saint Pierre to buy some finery for her wedding bonnet; how, hour
+after hour, when the snow was thick and the wind howled over the
+moorland, she had been anxiously looked for; how, at last, in
+despair, he had said to his wife that he would go to Perrin, for
+they must be off to look for Ellenor all the way to Saint Pierre
+Port.
+
+At once, Corbet went upstairs, and, waking his mother, told her the
+story of his girl's mysterious disappearance.
+
+"We'll go round to Les Casquets and bring Mrs. Cartier over here,
+mother. She's a poor creature, and she can't be left alone. Who can
+tell when Cartier and I will be back!"
+
+It was two o'clock before the men started to walk to Saint Pierre
+Port. It was brilliant moonlight at four o'clock, and the gusts of
+snow had died away with the wind; but the men searched, in vain, for
+any trace of Ellenor. As soon as it was dawn, the two parishes were
+roused, and those who were kind helped to look for the missing girl.
+The rest shrugged their shoulders and said that Christmas Day was
+not meant to be wasted in such a search, for such a queer wild girl
+as Ellenor Cartier. At last a child found in a hedge a paper bag: it
+contained a spray of artificial flowers, a few drenched roses. The
+child's mother guessed this must be the finery Ellenor had gone to
+buy, for everyone knew the pitiful story by now. But the hedge was
+ominously near Rocquaine Bay. What did this mean?
+
+After three days of minute search, the band of men gave up in
+despair; and Jean and Perrin went back to the routine of daily work
+in dogged and patient despair. The fisherman wondered if Le Mierre
+had heard the news, shut up in Lihou Island, where his wife lay very
+ill of small-pox, which was raging in different parts of Guernsey.
+Finally Jean unburdened his mind to his friend and talked with him
+of Ellenor's infatuation for Dominic. Would it be that she had
+drowned herself to be rid of the torture of her life?
+
+Perrin was haunted perpetually by this idea: it was with him by day
+and by night. He went about like a man who was half asleep, and
+people began to complain that he did not even nod to his
+acquaintances when he met them. So the Christmas season passed and
+it was the last day of the Old Year. The cold and the snow
+disappeared, and the weather was mild and calm as Perrin rowed
+homewards about four o'clock in the afternoon. He had been to pull
+up his lobster pots which had been put down not far from Lihou
+island. Buried in thought, he did not notice how close he was rowing
+to the reef of rocks off the north of the island, till a loud cry
+startled him and he saw that someone was signalling to him from a
+jutting rock close to his boat. It was a woman. It was Ellenor
+Cartier.
+
+Mad with joy, Perrin brought his boat into a tiny creek, moored it
+and scrambled up the rocks to the girl's side.
+
+"Don't come near me!" she cried, "for the sake of your mother! I am
+minding Blaisette. She is ill, dreadfully, dreadfully ill. If she
+gets well, the doctor says it will be a miracle. But even _he_ is
+afraid to come much. Since Christmas Eve he hasn't been here. It was
+then I came, just after his visit."
+
+She had gradually edged away from Perrin, and now placed herself
+behind a boulder. Over its edge her pale face looked sadly at her
+lover.
+
+"Do you know," she went on, "perhaps you won't believe me, but till
+I saw you just now in your boat, I didn't even feel sorry I left you
+on Christmas Eve. Are you very angry with me?"
+
+"I couldn't be angry with you, my darling! Even now, it seems I
+can't believe you're alive. We found your white roses, all wet and
+spoilt, in a hedge close to Rocquaine Bay; and, ah, how we feared,
+your father and me ... But, Ellenor, tell me, how is it you came
+here? And how was it you were on the rocks just when my boat
+passed."
+
+"I was on the rocks to try to see if I could let one of you men know
+we want food, and to tell the doctor he _must_ come again. I've
+given her all the medicine he left. It would be no use for me to go
+over to Rocquaine at low tide, because not a soul would help me; all
+would run away from me."
+
+"Set your heart at rest, my Ellenor. I'll go for all you want. But,
+quick, tell me, how is it you came here?"
+
+She buried her face in her hands, and broke into bitter weeping. And
+Perrin could not clasp her in his arms. Presently she spoke, in a
+low voice, full of anguish.
+
+"It was like this. On Christmas Eve, when I was coming back from
+Saint Pierre Port, I met Monsieur Le Mierre. He stopped me and
+wanted me to go back to the town with him. I had nearly decided to
+do as he wished. It was no use, I couldn't say 'No.' There was long
+I hadn't seen him; and he was so handsome and tall. And, and, I
+believe he loves me true, whatever happens! But, just as I said I'd
+go back with him, I thought of Blaisette, her that I hated and yet
+her that I pitied. And I asked him who was with her on lonely Lihou
+Isle. Him, he only laughed, and said she was all right; he'd be back
+before midnight. But there wasn't a soul in Guernsey would go to
+mind her, for love or money, so it was no use bothering, he said,
+and again he laughed. And then I was frightened. He seemed like the
+devil, so cruel about his poor wife. And, all of a sudden, I thought
+only of her, and I told him _I'd_ go to mind her, not for love or
+money, but because I was _so_ sorry, oh, so sorry, for her!"
+
+"My brave girl! My own sweetheart!" Perrin cried, stretching out
+eloquent hands to the sad, pale face.
+
+"Listen, there's more yet to tell! I don't know how I got back to
+Saint Pierre du Bois, it was snowing fast and yet faster; but, at
+last I was to L'Eree. I forgot all about everything except poor
+Blaisette. I threw away the roses for my wedding bonnet. I got to
+the beach before the tide was quite down. The sea was black. The sky
+was black. Just here and there was a dreadful line of white, where
+the waves were breaking over the rocks. And on Lihou Isle not a
+light was to be seen. I shivered when I thought of Blaisette in the
+dark, ill with small-pox of a Christmas Eve."
+
+Perrin ground his teeth.
+
+"Damn that brute! He's not fit for hell itself."
+
+She drew a long breath.
+
+"Listen, Perrin, I've not finished! I began to cross the rocks and
+found myself on the causeway at last, but I was deep in water. The
+horrible waves, like black walls, was all around me. The wind pushed
+me on every side. The snow was falling thicker and thicker. But at
+last, at last, I was to Lihou. I climbed the beach, ran across the
+grass, and, pushing open a door in the wall of the garden--we all
+know the farm well, eh, Perrin? I went up the steps to the house. I
+opened the door. The house was like ice. In the kitchen was a poor
+little bit of fire. I made it up; and then I tried to get courage to
+go upstairs.... Well, somehow I was in the bedroom. I had taken a
+candle with me. I can't tell you how she looked. It would make you
+wish you could kill _him_. She looked at me with her poor glazed
+eyes. Her lips were black with fever. She cried, in a voice like a
+thread, for water, water!"
+
+"God in heaven! and you love this brute yet?"
+
+She hid her face for a moment.
+
+"Hush, I've not finished! I did my best for her, poor Blaisette. For
+a minute she knew me and she tried to thank me; and very soon she
+fell asleep."
+
+"And he came back at midnight?"
+
+"No, not till the middle of Christmas Day; and then he was half
+drunk. Since then he has hardly been near the house; but he has not
+left Lihou. He has been about the stables, and come into the kitchen
+to get his meals once or twice; and he is drinking, drinking all the
+time. I can see he is afraid of the small-pox, and afraid of death.
+And yet, I believe, I am sure, he loves me yet; only I will not
+speak to him nor look at him, because of _her_, lying upstairs all
+unconscious."
+
+Perrin stared at her, aghast. Was it possible a woman could love,
+actually love, the devil! Bah, it seemed so!
+
+"Look here," he cried, almost in a rude voice, "he loves you so much
+that he lets you run the risk of getting the small-pox! Very well!
+I'm decided what to do. I'll go back to tell my mother I am coming
+here to look after you twice a day, perhaps more, and I'll give
+_him_ a piece of my mind. My mother will go to Les Casquets. I'll
+stop the mouths of the two parishes, so will my mother and your
+parents, or I'll know why. Now, go back, and I'll be off for the
+doctor and for food."
+
+"Wait, just a minute, Perrin! There is something more I must say, to
+cast it off my mind. It is all my fault that Blaisette has the
+small-pox. It was me that went to the witch to Saint Pierre Port to
+cast a spell on my rival the day after the _Grand' Querrue_. I
+didn't tell no names, but that's why she's bad, and oh, Perrin, it's
+all my fault."
+
+"Yes, I suppose it's that, in a way. But it's my belief there's
+another reason for her sickness. You remember she came the wrong way
+to church on her wedding day? Ah, we all know what _that_
+means--trouble--as sure as her name is Blaisette. But I must be
+off!"
+
+In a few hours Perrin returned with a store of food and the
+unwilling doctor, who was obliged to go up to see the patient he
+dreaded so horribly, for Perrin took him by the arm and did not
+leave him till he had landed him in the sick room. Then the
+fisherman sought out Le Mierre, and the coward and scoundrel tried
+to hold his own. But Perrin's threats of appeal to the Royal Court
+awed him into a promise to give out money to pay for the expenses of
+his wife's illness. Corbet, himself utterly fearless of disease,
+frightened the drunkard into further dread of the house: and Ellenor
+had it all her own way. But it was of no avail. Pretty, frail
+Blaisette could not battle with a terrible illness, neglected at the
+very first; and two days after Perrin came to Lihou, she died,
+without a look or a sign.
+
+There was no thought of taking her poor body across to the other
+island for burial in the sweet quiet churchyard of Saint Pierre du
+Bois. She was laid to rest in a grave dug hastily in a corner beside
+a dark boulder. No hymns were sung over her. Only the grey sea
+moaned and the wind sighed, as her rough coffin was lowered into the
+grave. No messenger, mounted on a black horse, bore the news of her
+death from house to house, up and down the two parishes. Only a poor
+fisherman repeated the sad tidings as he trudged, first to
+Colomberie Farm and then to Orvilliere, where Dominic's aunt kept
+house in state while her graceless nephew was away. No _Messieurs_
+of distinguished Torteval families were honoured bearers, but a good
+man and a bad man had carried her coffin to the dark place of
+burial. No weird feasting followed the unconsecrated ceremony: only
+Dominic took refuge from sickening terror in a drunken bout.
+
+But Perrin stood long beside her grave: and prayed for the poor
+little woman so soon to be left alone in the island, henceforth to
+be haunted by her sad spirit.
+
+An hour after Blaisette's burial, Ellenor fainted while she was
+making preparations for leaving the house. Perrin, guessing what
+would follow, rowed her across to the main island, as soon as she
+was able. His mother had returned to her home, and Jean and poor
+weak Mrs. Cartier prepared to nurse their child through an attack of
+small-pox. The doctor shook his head. It was a particularly bad
+case, he said, and it was doubtful if he could save Ellenor.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII.
+
+
+"So you've made up your mind to lose her, Perrin?" said Mrs. Corbet,
+as she and her son were at supper one spring evening.
+
+"Yes, there is nothing else to be done. Ellenor isn't a girl to
+treat me like that just for a bit of fun. At first, when she was
+just well of the small-pox, she was very kind to me. But when I
+spoke of our wedding day that had been put off and asked her if she
+wouldn't tell me it would be soon again, she turned away and didn't
+say another word for a long time."
+
+"And you left her alone, I hope?"
+
+"Indeed, but, no! I begged and prayed of her to speak to me, till
+she turned round. She looked white and tired. She was crying, but
+she was vexed, too. She told me, quite sharp, to leave her alone.
+She said she wasn't going to marry nobody, and she must have been
+mad to promise to be my wife before. And then she said she was glad
+she'd had the small-pox, because it had put off the wedding."
+
+"Perrin, my son, you are far too good for her, and far too simple!
+If you'd have left her then and there, it's my belief she'd have
+come looking after me the very next day, just to see what you'd told
+me. And if you'd have seemed you didn't care _she'd_ have cared a
+good bit more than she does."
+
+The fisherman shook his head.
+
+"No, it isn't like what you think. It's like this--Ellenor only
+cares for one man, and that's the master of Orvilliere."
+
+Mrs. Corbet shrugged her shoulders.
+
+"Well, well, she must be _ensorchelai_ herself to love him that's
+such a devil and has so much to do with the Prince of devils. Bah,
+it was only yesterday I was told of some of Le Mierre's doings! It
+was Judie Roussel, and _she_ heard it from one of the maids at
+Orvilliere. Just you listen to me, Perrin Corbet, and see what you
+think of it!--Le Mierre, he wanted a bit of fun, him, and you may
+depend it wasn't nothing good, so he fetched some of his fine
+friends to go to the Vale. But they wasn't going to walk, them, no
+such thing! They makes up their minds they'll use the horse of Le
+Mierre's neighbour, Langlois. They find a good strong white one in a
+meadow. What do they do but all jump on his back and be off! Wait a
+bit! He begins to gallop and to gallop, over hedges and brambles;
+they couldn't stop him, and and when he gets nearly to the Vale, he
+throws them off his back in a fine muddy place, and then he's out of
+sight in a minute. And yet, would you believe it, Langlois swore the
+white horse had been in the meadow all the time! Of course it was
+the _devil_ that was the gallopping white horse! And he must be on
+pretty good terms with Le Mierre to play off such a joke with him,
+eh, Perrin!"
+
+"I can't say, mother, I'm sure, and, in case even he is good friends
+with the devil, it's all the worse for the girl that loves him."
+
+"Bah! I've no patience with Ellenor. Le Mierre is a bad man. She
+knows that as well as you and me do, and yet ... she loves him.
+Well, well, women are poor fools. But, come, Perrin, isn't there any
+other girl that would do except Ellenor? There's hundreds nicer than
+her, and hundreds prettier--specially now."
+
+"If she won't have me, I'll never marry. That's the end of it,
+mother."
+
+Mrs. Corbet sighed as she heaped up the supper things for Perrin to
+wash. Such a good, kind son as he was, and to be made a fool of by a
+self-willed girl like Ellenor!
+
+"It seems I haven't seen Le Mierre for a long time," she went on.
+
+"He's been away ever since his wife's death. It was said everywhere,
+in the two parishes and even to Saint Pierre Port that he went off
+because of poor Blaisette. She came again and again to Orvilliere
+like a white sea-gull, crying and flapping her wings against his
+bedroom window. Her spirit can't rest it seems, because of his
+wickedness. But, now, I've been told this very day, that he's back
+to Guernsey: and some there are who say he's been making love to
+girls in Jersey."
+
+"If only he'd had brought one back as his wife, that foolish Ellenor
+of yours would have stopped hankering after him!"
+
+"I don't believe he'll marry her, because she is poor and of no
+family: _besides_ ..."
+
+"You may well say _besides_, poor girl! But, come, my son, I am
+tired, I must go to bed."
+
+Rumour was quite correct in giving one of the reasons for Le
+Mierre's departure to Jersey. He told everyone how he was bothered
+by the spirit of Blaisette; but he did not add that abject terror of
+small-pox made him decide to spend some months with well-to-do
+relations in Jersey, which was quite exempt from the horrible
+disease.
+
+It was just before Lent when he came home to find a very bleak
+springtime keeping back the flowers in his garden at Orvilliere.
+With relief, after the first night, he told his housekeeper that the
+spirit of Blaisette had gone, evidently for good. The woman, a
+devout Roman Catholic, muttered behind his back.
+
+"She's got enough to do, praying for you in Purgatory, poor soul, if
+she's allowed to think of such a black heart as yours! The Blessed
+Angels and Saints know how it would discourage her to come back to
+see you as bad as ever, and it's _my_ belief, worse!"
+
+The tragic death of Blaisette had almost canonized her: and she, who
+had been in life, a pretty weak doll, was enshrined in all hearts as
+a martyr to her husband's brutality. So often does death enrich and
+enlarge our limited outlook.
+
+It was the evening of the first Sunday in Lent. Jean Cartier, his
+wife, Mrs. Corbet and Perrin had been to church at Saint Pierre du
+Bois. It was dark as they entered the parish of Torteval, and Jean
+said in an anxious voice,
+
+"I suppose Ellenor has left Les Casquets by now?"
+
+His wife nudged him as if to say he had betrayed a secret: but it
+was too late. Mrs. Corbet's gentle voice asked, in great curiosity,
+where Ellenor was going at this time of night.
+
+"To _Les Brandons_, on Pleinmont," said Jean bluntly. "We didn't
+like it. But as for me, I've not got the heart to refuse her
+nothing, since we nearly lost her with the small-pox--poor child!"
+
+The women echoed his deep sigh: and Perrin said quickly,
+
+"Look here! I'm off to _Les Brandons_ too! Then I can look after
+her! Don't wait up for me, mother."
+
+"Very well. But, tell me, Jean. Will Le Mierre be there? Has she met
+him since his return from Jersey?"
+
+"He will be there, for certain," broke in Perrin. "And, for certain,
+she has not see him yet. She told me so herself. _Adi, then, toute
+la compagnie._"
+
+He swung along and was soon out of sight. The high road of Torteval
+was thronged with people who, for the most part, carried lanterns.
+He hurried past, not speaking to a soul. Presently he had reached
+his home, and, turning sharply round the corner of the little
+garden, he found himself in a lane which ended in a cart rut and
+brought him out to the moorland of Pleinmont and close to the
+Haunted House.
+
+The sky was thick with stars, which flashed like silver bonfires in
+the blackness of the night. A fresh breeze swept over the gorze
+bushes of the moorland and blew into yellow and red streamers the
+sheet of flame that rose from a huge bonfire which was built in a
+direct line inland from the Haunted House. The sea, below the
+precipitous cliffs, moaned and sighed, and, far off, in the
+distance, could be heard the murmur of the deep seas. Shouts of
+laughter and merry voices, scraps of folk song and impromptu
+dancing, came from the throng of people scattered over the moorland
+and gathered round the bonfire.
+
+Most of the girls of the company wore masks, rough, crude affairs,
+which, however, effectually concealed their faces. These masked
+girls were to take part in a special feature of _Les Brandons_, and
+were inspected curiously by the men present who were to be chosen as
+partners by these _faux visages_.
+
+Perrin Corbet moved quietly, almost stealthily, about amongst the
+people, evidently intent on finding some particular person. All at
+once he stopped close to the huge bonfire, and stared, with knitted
+brows, at Dominic Le Mierre, who swaggered in and out amongst the
+girls, tapping one on the cheek, chucking another under the chin,
+and pulling the long curls of a young creature in her teens. In the
+fitful and flickering light, the master of Orvilliere looked like a
+sea-king, so stalwart, so wicked, so magnetic. It was quite plain to
+Perrin Corbet that he was more than a little the worse for drink;
+and he watched him closely, and followed him as near as he dared
+without being observed.
+
+At ten o'clock, and at a given signal, the masked girls went up to
+the group of men to choose partners. Perrin edged close to Dominic
+Le Mierre and scrutinized painfully the girl who laid her hand on
+the "jerseyed" arm of the master. She was of middle height and
+extremely thin. Her emaciated hand trembled; it looked almost
+discoloured in the uncertain light. The border of her face that
+could be seen round the mask was ghastly in its whiteness. She wore
+a close fitting bonnet which hid all trace of her hair.
+
+With partially glazed eyes, Dominic peered at her.
+
+"You don't look much of a beauty!" he cried, "but I'll soon see who
+you are, my girl!"
+
+When the masks had all chosen, a circle was formed round the
+bonfire, the men holding their partners tightly by the hand. Faster
+and faster flew the circle till the masked faces shewed like a black
+band, while the outside throng of people cheered and clapped, and
+encouraged the dancers to madder whirling. Then, suddenly, as by one
+impulse, the circle was broken up, and a new spectacle was provided
+for the onlookers.
+
+Each girl seized her partner by the hand and together they leapt
+across the flaming bonfire. Wild excitement was the order of the
+night. It was the festival of the rude, primitive elements of human
+nature. It was a pageant of black shadow and brilliant light. It
+answered to the spirit of the bleak moorland, to the steeps of the
+cliffs, to the mystery of the sea.
+
+Only one man in the whole throng was utterly unmoved by the
+abandonment around him. Perrin kept his deep set, keen eyes fixed on
+Dominic and his partner. He watched them leap with perfect skill,
+across the roaring flame of the bonfire. He saw the master bend
+down, and once more peer into the white face of the girl. He
+followed, very stealthily, the two, as they drew apart into a
+shadowed place, where, nevertheless, the light from the bonfire
+could reach and bring their faces into relief. He watched the girl
+unfasten her mask and throw it on the grass. He drew a deep breath.
+Her face was pitifully ugly. It was covered with the pits and dents
+and scars that small-pox had left. The skin was coarse and rough and
+of a yellowish white. Her eyes were dim and red and bleared. Her
+eyebrows and lashes were gone. Her expression was like that of a
+furtive, crouching creature who dreaded the lash.
+
+And it came.
+
+"Who are you, I'd like to know!" cried the master in a towering
+rage, "that has dared to choose me only to cheat me. Do you know,
+woman, that you are as ugly as sin!"
+
+He seized her bonnet and dragged it off. Then he burst into a brutal
+laugh.
+
+"Almost bald, the old crone! I'll pay you out for this trick. Who
+the devil are you? Quick, out with it, or else I'll call the other
+fellows in to help me to find out!"
+
+Perrin moved quite close behind the master, who was too angry to
+notice him. The girl lifted her eyes to Dominic. She spoke quietly.
+
+"I am Ellenor Cartier."
+
+"I might have guessed it, fool that I am! And you are a greater to
+think I would even look at you _now_! You must be quite mad. All I
+ever cared for in you was your devilry, and your eyes that used to
+set me all on fire with love. And now you look like a scared rabbit,
+a white, pinched thing! And your eyes are hideous! And your hair is
+gone! How dare you cheat me, you ugly creature!"
+
+She had clasped her hands together; and gazed at him in
+stupefaction.
+
+Suddenly, he turned on his heel and cried in a loud, far-carrying
+voice--
+
+"Come here, you men, all of you, and help me to throw the witch,
+Ellenor Cartier, into the bonfire! She's too devilish ugly to live."
+
+The lower sort of the throng laughed uproariously, and turned to
+stare at the poor girl. But cries of "Shame! shame!" rent the air.
+Perrin stepped forward, and, with a well-planted blow and a skilful
+twist of his leg, he threw Dominic to the ground.
+
+"See to the drunken brute!" he cried.
+
+Then he turned to the trembling girl.
+
+"Come, Ellenor," he said, with tender reverence, "come with me, I
+will take you home."
+
+He led her to his mother, who took her up to her own attic and
+helped her to get into bed, for the girl shivered with cold one
+minute and was in a fever the next. Perrin, meanwhile, went off to
+Les Casquets to tell her people that she was safe; and he gave Jean
+the story of the evening, for fear he should hear it from
+strangers. When he came back to the cottage, Mrs. Corbet was in the
+kitchen.
+
+"She's asleep at last! But she's cried till I thought she would die.
+I asked her how it was she made herself in such a state; and then
+she told me all the tale. Silly girl! the very way to upset any man,
+and still more, Le Mierre, to show how ugly she is now before all
+them people. And, besides, it was all like play acting, to my mind!"
+
+"Oh, no, not like that, mother!"
+
+"Wait a bit, wait a bit, till you hears all! It seems, she told me,
+that she planned she'd do this, there's weeks ago, while Le Mierre
+was yet to Jersey, and she had heard he was making love to girls
+there."
+
+"But why?"
+
+"Well, listen! She's a strange creature, not like others! It's _my_
+belief she comes from those fairies that built _Les Casquets_. You
+remember Perrin?"
+
+"No, tell me."
+
+"Well, once my great-grandfather was on the beach to Portelet, and
+he saw, a long, long way off a big ship. It came nearer and nearer,
+and it was so big that great-grandfather expected to see it smashed
+on hidden rocks. But, lo and behold, the ship got smaller and at
+last, bah, it looked like the toy of a child, and it ran in on the
+sand, close to great-grandfather. Out of the boat stepped a little
+chap, and would you believe it, the boat was turned into the
+blade-bone of a sheep, all tangled in sea-weed."
+
+"Quick, what happened?"
+
+"Have patience, my son, and don't hurry an old woman. Well,
+great-grandfather asked the little chap where he was going and what
+was his name. And all he would say was "_Je vais cheminant_." But
+he stopped to Guernsey after all and he married a girl from near
+here--and it was him built _Les Casquets_. There! _that's_ where she
+gets her queer ways, Ellenor!"
+
+"And now tell me about her plan."
+
+"Well, it seems she thought, foolish girl, she'd find out, for sure,
+if Le Mierre really loves her or only her looks. And she couldn't
+think of no better way than this mad one. She can't know much of men
+and their ways, her!"
+
+"It's the best thing that could have happened, if only it makes her
+see Le Mierre in his true colours."
+
+"Well, we must hope for the best. And, look here, Perrin! Nothing he
+could do before, no wickedness, no cruelty, could make her leave off
+caring! But we women, if our looks are held up to scorn--well!--that's
+the worst of all. So who can tell what may happen! Come, I must make
+her and give her a cup of tea. She told me she hadn't eaten or drank
+all day."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII.
+
+
+It was a wild wet night in March. Dominic Le Mierre had just
+finished supper, and he sat by the fire in the kitchen of
+Orvilliere; he was in a particularly good mood, owing to the
+excellence of the tobacco he was smoking. As he puffed at his second
+pipe he congratulated himself on his long acquaintance with
+Frenchmen, who had no scruples in giving him whole packages of this
+excellent tobacco; and no conditions attached except the fun of
+helping to hide it in the caves below the Haunted House, till it
+could be conveyed to Brittany!
+
+Then he laughed aloud at the idea of the countryside about this very
+Haunted House. He had added two or three ghost tales to those
+current; and, though he believed firmly in every weird story of the
+two parishes, he had not felt a single scruple in inventing others
+to terrify people from the spot. His love of lawlessness and danger
+was infinitely stronger than his inherited faith in the
+supernatural. The Haunted House brought to his mind the festival of
+_Les Brandons_, when the dreaded place had lost its horror for the
+time being, owing to the safety that is supposed to lie in numbers.
+He chuckled as he remembered what a fool he had made of Ellenor.
+Bah! Once and for all he had done with her! Who cared to look at her
+now, fright that she was! And how dared that pious idiot of a
+fisherman throw him down before all the company! Ah! he would soon
+teach him better manners! he would thrash him well next time they
+met!
+
+So he plotted and thought and smoked, and the night wind howled and
+the rain beat against the windows. All at once, he got up, and from
+the rack fastened across the beamed ceiling he took an old black
+book, his friend and evil counsellor, the _Grand-Mele_ which had
+been in his family for generations. It was a book of magic,
+containing spells to be used on every conceivable occasion, and
+Dominic Le Mierre was past-master in the black art. Turning over the
+pages with knitted brows, he searched for a spell to be used against
+Perrin Corbet. At last he found it.
+
+"Ah, it is quite easy to draw blood, and it need be but a drop!" he
+muttered, "scratch his hand with my knife and it is done! Then, he
+will walk in his sleep to the Haunted House. There I will meet him!
+Ah, Perrin Corbet, it will be your turn to be down on the ground! I
+will see him to-morrow, and the spell will work for the night.
+_Bon_, nothing could be better!"
+
+He took up his pipe again and smoked in full contentment. A sudden
+stillness had fallen over the wild night. It seemed to Dominic that
+he could hear the moan of the sea. He listened. His blood crept at
+the weird stillness.
+
+Hark! Hush! What was that?
+
+The wild sad cry of a sea-gull. Nearer and nearer it came, and
+Dominic's eyes were fixed in horror upon the uncurtained window.
+The sea-gull came at last quite close, with wilder, sadder cries. It
+flapped its wings and circled round and round the casement. Dominic
+was cold and stiff with terror. He knew who the sea-gull was, but
+what did it mean? Some dreadful thing was drawing near Orvilliere.
+
+"Blaisette!" he cried, "I know you well enough! Why do you come
+here?"
+
+Wilder, more despairing grew the cries. Closer and closer the bird
+drew to the panes, striking them with a twang like the sound of wild
+music.
+
+With a curse the master roused himself from the freezing spell. He
+took his loaded gun from its place over the chimney piece. He fired.
+One of the panes of glass was broken. Outside, on the cobbled yard,
+the gull lay dead, its glazed eyes fixed on the house.
+
+With a laugh of triumph, Dominic re-lighted his pipe and sat down
+again by the fire. He had just settled once more to the reading of
+_Grand-Mele_ when a very tempest of wind and hail shook the house,
+and in the midst of it, a low, sharp knock fell on the house door.
+
+This time, the master was not under a spell. He recognized the
+knock. In an instant he was in the entrance hall and had flung open
+the door. A rough, unkempt fisherman stood on the threshold.
+
+"You must come at once, Monsieur," he cried, "there's been great
+luck! A lot of brandy has been brought, unexpected. It's to the cave
+below the Haunted House. We could have got it up the cliffs alone.
+But we all agreed that you must have your share in the fun."
+
+"Quick! where did the stuff come from?"
+
+"From France, from les Messieurs ----."
+
+"_Bon!_ Will you wait for me?"
+
+"No, my horse is here--tied to the gate. He's impatient, him! I'll
+be off to tell the rest you're coming."
+
+"I'll ride too," and Dominic slammed the door, and hurried to the
+back of the house where his horses were stabled for the night. He
+chose out a fleet white one that was used to wild rushes through the
+dark. Before he mounted, he fastened a pistol to the saddle; but he
+laughed as he did this, it was such a useless precaution. Never once
+yet had the excisemen appeared within miles of the Haunted House.
+With a dark lantern swinging from the saddle bow, he rode out of the
+farmyard and cantered up the hill. Then, urging the white mare to
+her swiftest pace, he flew through steep lanes, past Torteval
+Church, and along the high road to Pleinmont.
+
+The rain poured in torrents. The wind roared and howled. Several
+times the mare paused, trembling. But Dominic lashed her on, and in
+pain and terror she tore across the moorland, striking fire from the
+stones as she flew. He reined her in at last and fastened her to a
+hook in the side wall of the Haunted House. He laughed as he thought
+what a help she would be in keeping all comers away, for she seemed
+to shed a white dim light from her drenched skin, and her loud
+breathing might easily be taken for groans.
+
+He scrambled down the face of the cliff. Fortunately, the wind blew
+in from the sea, and in safety he reached a large cave, brilliant
+with the light of many torches. His boon companions, the roughest
+gangs of the two parishes, greeted him with shouts and jests, and an
+hour of drinking and feasting followed. Then, with no little
+difficulty, kegs of brandy were hauled up the cliffs and deposited
+in the Haunted House. With wonderful skill, the men worked almost
+all the while in the dark, only using lanterns when it was
+absolutely necessary. At last, all the kegs were stowed away. The
+men scattered to fetch their horses from various sheds belonging to
+friendly people, and the master of Orvilliere was left alone.
+
+He looked carefully round at the precious kegs stowed half way up
+the walls. Ah--what was that! One of the barrels leaked! Brandy,
+velvety fragrant brandy was oozing out on the earthen floor! He
+knelt down and caught a few drops in his hand. It was superfine, the
+best stuff he had ever tasted. Greedily he drank again and again
+from his hand. But that process was too slow. Catching up a hatchet,
+he enlarged the leak, and throwing himself flat on the ground, he
+lapped the golden spirit that filled him with ecstasy. At last, he
+had had enough. He fumbled at the leak, making futile efforts to
+stop it. But he was too drunk to know what he was about. He had just
+sense enough to darken his lantern, to reel out of the Haunted House
+and fling himself on the drenched grass beside his shivering mare.
+Presently his debauch turned into a heavy sleep, and the hours
+passed. Suddenly he woke and sat up. He heard, quite distinctly, the
+sharp click of a horse's hoof. It had rung through his drunken sleep
+like a knell. He had dreamt he heard again the passing bell that had
+tolled for Blaisette.
+
+All at once the click passed into a smothered sound of pounding and
+slushing. The horse had left the high road and must be on the
+moorland!
+
+Sobered, Le Mierre leapt to his feet, unloosened the mare and jumped
+on her back. He turned her inland and urged her forward. But,
+trembling in every limb, the mare refused to move. Nearer and nearer
+came the pounding of the horse. It stopped. A lantern flashed out.
+Le Mierre saw the figure of a well known exciseman riding a powerful
+black horse. A voice cried above the howling of the wind.
+
+"Give yourself up, and all will be well! I've looked for you far and
+wide. At last I find you. Come, Le Mierre, don't be a fool about
+this. It will only be a fine, and perhaps not even that, if you give
+up the other chaps."
+
+But the master of Orvilliere was not to be reasoned with. He was in
+a towering rage. He wrenched the pistol from the saddle. He fired it
+at the exciseman. It missed him. But he, too, lost his temper. In an
+instant he was beside Le Mierre and had dragged the pistol away and
+flung it against the house. Dominic, beside himself and unnerved
+with the night's carouse, grappled with the exciseman and tried to
+throttle him.
+
+A terrible struggle. A wild pounding of hoofs. Cries and oaths. The
+fall of the lantern. Gusts of rain, and wind that shrieked as if an
+agony of warning. Then, the mare broke away at last, in a frenzy of
+terror, and made straight for the edge of the cliffs behind the
+Haunted House.
+
+Not one word came from Dominic Le Mierre as the mare stumbled, fell,
+and, with a horrible, almost human cry, rolled over and over down
+the precipitous height.
+
+The exciseman dismounted, groped for the lantern, lit it, and fought
+his way half down the cliff, at the risk of his life, as the wind
+had changed and was blowing out to sea. But there was not a sign of
+the mare and her rider.
+
+At the earliest streak of dawn, the two parishes were roused, and
+long and careful search went on for days. But it was all in vain.
+Somewhere, in the deep seas, perhaps, the body of the master was at
+rest, but, after "life's fitful fever," did he, indeed "sleep well?"
+
+Orvilliere Farm was shut up. The finding of the dead gull, with a
+red wound in its white breast, proved conclusively that foul play
+and magic had been at work on the night of the storm. The servant
+and the housekeeper had been all the evening at a wedding feast, and
+when they returned at five o'clock next morning they found excited
+groups of people all about the farm, and they heard the story of the
+death of Dominic Le Mierre.
+
+No one would dream of living henceforth at Orvilliere. It was
+haunted. People who were compelled to pass through the valley at
+nightfall, saw flickering lights moving from window to window of the
+farm, and heard the sudden firing of a gun, and the plaintive cry of
+a wounded bird.
+
+The wind sighed about the lonely spot. The moan of the sea
+penetrated to the solitary farm. But no human creature wept for the
+departed soul of the master of Orvilliere. All shuddered at his end.
+Two prayed, in defiance of their scruples, for his wicked, wild
+soul. And these were only an old woman and her fisherman son.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX.
+
+
+It was a still, beautiful evening in summer. Perrin Corbet was free
+till ten o'clock, when he would go fishing with Jean Cartier. It was
+very lonely now in the cottage, for Perrin's mother was dead, and he
+spent very little time at home. This special evening he decided to
+make a pilgrimage to the churchyard of St. Pierre du Bois where his
+mother was buried. Her grave was close to the church in a place of
+long grass and overshadowing trees. As Perrin entered the churchyard
+he saw that a woman was bending over the grave: he knew at once who
+it was, and his heart beat quicker. It was so long since he had seen
+her and spoken with her!
+
+When he was quite close, she turned round, and he saw that she had
+been crying. On the grave she had put a rude cross of _immortelles_.
+
+"Ellenor," he said quietly, "I did not expect to see you. I thought
+you were yet in Sark."
+
+"I came back this morning by the early cutter. I was longing to get
+back home."
+
+"And we have been longing for you to come back! It is kind of you to
+put flowers here. Ah, it is always a woman who thinks of those
+things! We are such stupid creatures, we men! She who lies here so
+often said that to me. I miss her more and more, Ellenor."
+
+"Poor Perrin!" she said softly, and for one long moment she looked
+into the faithful face bent over his mother's grave; then she turned
+away with a bitter sigh. Perrin lifted his head; not a thing she
+did, not a movement, not a sigh of hers ever escaped him.
+
+"What is it?" he asked, in his low, kind voice, "are you fretting
+still?"
+
+"No, no, but it seems I can't forget quickly all that has passed."
+
+She covered her face with her hands and shuddered. Perrin touched
+her arm.
+
+"Come and sit in the church porch," he said, "and tell me all about
+it."
+
+Still with her hands covering her face, she let him lead her to the
+old stone seat in the grey porch. Presently, with an evident effort,
+her hands fell from her face, and she clasped them in her lap.
+
+"I am selfish," she said, "never once have I told you how sorry I
+was to hear of your mother's death, it seems I could only think of
+myself."
+
+"I have understood all the time. I knew you would be sad for me.
+But, of course, you could not help thinking most of yourself and of
+what you have lost."
+
+"Ah, how it hurts to hear you say that! Tell me, am I _very_ ugly! I
+know I will get the truth from you."
+
+"Ugly!" he repeated, "_ugly_, to me you are the prettiest woman in
+Guernsey. Your hair, all growing again in dear little dark rings,
+like the curls of a baby! Your eyes once more beautiful with long
+eyelashes; your sad mouth! Ah, Ellenor, how can I speak to you like
+this quietly! I love you more than ever! But I know it is useless!
+Did you think I meant your _looks_ when I spoke of what you had
+lost? Oh, no, I mean something else."
+
+"What is it you mean?"
+
+"That you have lost him you love, Dominic Le Mierre."
+
+For a long while Ellenor did not speak: then she said wearily,
+
+"But it seems to me I don't love him any more. It seems he killed my
+love the night of _Les Brandons_. It was awful when he died. And all
+I could think of was to get away from Guernsey and all the people I
+knew. In Sark, I forgot about him a little. But now I'm back, it
+seems I can't think of nothing else. I am so frightened of him.
+Perhaps, some day, when I'm going by the road to Orvilliere, he'll
+come back from the dead and laugh and jeer at me. Because, as for
+him, he didn't love me no more after _Les Brandons_. No, I don't care
+for him now. But I've no heart left, I am only tired, and oh, so
+frightened of _him_!"
+
+She looked at Perrin like a child asking for protection, and in an
+instant his strong arm was round her. She drew a deep sigh of relief
+and smiled a little.
+
+"Let me take of you, my own girl," he said, "I won't bother you to
+try to love me. Please God, that will come in time."
+
+"Yes, please take care of poor me, poor wicked, stupid me," she
+whispered, "you're such a good man. I'm so safe with you. There's
+nobody in all the world I'd trust like you, Perrin."
+
+He drew her head down to his breast, and the still evening breathed
+a benediction over the woman who had sinned and suffered and over
+the man who had loved her throughout with a tender reverence which
+is the very heart of the divinest love.
+
+
+THE END.
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Where Deep Seas Moan, by E. Gallienne-Robin
+
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