II
Meanwhile Angele had gone through many phases of alternate hope anddespair. She knew that Montgomery the Camisard was dead, and a rumor,carried by refugees, reached her that De la Foret had been with himto the end. To this was presently added the word that De la Foret hadbeen beheaded. But one day she learned that the Comtesse deMontgomery was sheltered by the governor, Sir Hugh Pawlett, herkinsman, at Mont Orgueil Castle. Thither she went in fear from herrefuge at Rozel, and was admitted to the Comtesse. There she learnedthe joyful truth that De la Foret had not been slain, and was inhiding on the coast of Normandy.
The long waiting was a sore trial, yet laughter was often upon herlips henceforth. The peasants, the farmers and fishermen of Jersey,at first--as they have ever been--little inclined towards strangers,learned at last to look for her in the fields and upon the shore, andlaughed in response, they knew not why, to the quick smiling of hereyes. She even learned to speak their unmusical but friendlyNorman-Jersey French. There were at least a half-dozen fishermen who,for her, would have gone at night straight to the Witches' Rock inSt. Clement's Bay--and this was bravery unmatched.
It came to be known along the coast that "ma'm'selle" was waiting fora lover fleeing from the French coast. This gave her fresh interestin the eyes of the serfs and sailors and their women folk, who atfirst were not inclined towards the Huguenot maiden, partly becauseshe was French, and partly because she was not a Catholic. But eventhese, when they saw that she never talked religiously, that she wasfast learning to speak their own homely patois, and that in thesickness of their children she was untiring in her kindness, forgavethe austerity of the gloomy-browed old man her father, who spoke tothem distantly, or never spoke at all; and her position was secure.Then, upon the other hand, the gentry of the manors, seeing thefriendship grow between her and the Comtesse de Montgomery at MontOrgueil Castle, made courteous advances towards her father, andtowards herself through him.
She could scarce have counted the number of times she climbed thegreat hill like a fortress at the lift of the little Bay of Rozel,and from the Nez du Guet scanned the sea for a sail and the sky forfair weather. When her eyes were not thus busy, they were searchingthe lee of the hill-side round for yellow lilies, and the valleybelow for the campion, the daffodil, and the thousand pretty fernsgrowing in profusion there. Every night she looked out to see thather signal-fire was lit upon the Nez du Guet, and she never went tobed without taking one last look over the sea, in the restless,inveterate hope which at once sustained her and devoured her.
But the longest waiting must end. It came on the evening of the veryday that the Seigneur of Rozel went to Angele's father and bluntlytold him he was ready to forego all Norman-Jersey prejudice againstthe French and the Huguenot religion, and take Angele to wife withoutpenny or estate.
In reply to the seigneur, Monsieur Aubert said that he was consciousof an honor, and referred monsieur to his daughter, who must answerfor herself; but he must tell Monsieur of Rozel that monsieur'sreligion would, in his own sight, be a high bar to the union. To thatthe seigneur said that no religion that he had could be a bar toanything at all, and so long as the young lady could manage herhousehold, drive a good bargain with the craftsmen and hucksters, andhave the handsomest face and manners in the Channel Islands, he'd askno more; and she might pray for him and his salvation without let orhindrance.
The seigneur found the young lady in a little retreat among therocks, called by the natives _La Chaire_. Here she sat sewing uponsome coarse linen for a poor fisherwoman's babe when the seigneurcame near. She heard the scrunch of his heels upon the gravel, theclank of his sword upon the rocks, and looked up with a flush, herneedle poised; for none should know of her presence in this placesave her father. When she saw who was her visitor, she rose. Aftergreeting and compliment, none too finely put, but more generous thanfitted with Jersey parsimony, the gentleman of Rozel came at once tothe point.
"My name is none too bad," said he--"Raoul Lempriere, of theLemprieres that have been here since Rollo ruled in Normandy. Myestate is none worse than any in the whole islands; I have morehorses and dogs than any gentleman of my acres; and I am more infavor at court than De Carteret of St. Ouen's. I am the Queen'sbutler, and I am the first that royal favor granted to set up threedove-cotes, one by St. Aubin's, one by St. Helier's, and one atRozel; and--and," he added, with a lumbering attempt at humor--"and,on my oath, I'll set up another dove-cote without my sovereign'sfavor, with your leave alone. By Our Lady, I do love that color inyon cheek! Just such a color had my mother when she snatched from thehead of my cousin of Carteret's milkmaid-wife the bonnet of a lady ofquality and bade her get to her heifers. God's beauty! but 'tis acolor of red primroses in thy cheeks and blue campions in thine eyes.Come, I warrant I can deepen that color"--he bowed low--"Madame ofRozel, if it be not too soon!"
The girl listened to this cheerful and loquacious proposal andcourtship all in one, ending with the premature bestowal of a title,in mingled anger, amusement, disdain, and apprehension. Her heartfluttered, then stood still, then flew up in her throat, then grewterribly hot and hurt her, so that she pressed her hand to her bosomas though that might ease it. By the time he had finished, drawnhimself up, and struck his foot upon the ground in burly emphasis ofhis devoted statements, the girl had sufficiently recovered toanswer him composedly, and with a little glint of demure humor in hereyes. She loved another man; she did not care so much as a spark forthis happy, swearing, swashbuckling gentleman; yet she saw he hadmeant to do her honor. He had treated her as courteously as was inhim to do; he chose her out from all the ladies of his acquaintanceto make her an honest offer of his hand--he had said nothing abouthis heart; he would, should she marry him, throw her scraps ofgood-humor, bearish tenderness, drink to her health among hisfellows, and respect and admire her--even exalt her almost to therank of a man in his own eyes; and he had the tolerance of theopen-hearted and open-handed man. All these things were as much acompliment to her as though she were not a despised Huguenot, anexiled lady of no fortune. She looked at him a moment with an almostsolemn intensity, so that he shifted his ground uneasily, but at oncesmiled encouragingly, to relieve her embarrassment at the unexpectedhonor done her. She had remained standing; now, as he made a steptowards her, she sank down upon the seat and waved him backcourteously.
"A moment, Monsieur of Rozel," she ventured. "Did my father send youto me?"
He inclined his head and smiled again.
"Did you say to him what you have said to me?" she asked, not quitewithout a touch of malice.
"I left out about the color in the cheek," he answered, with a smirkat what he took to be the quickness of his wit.
"You kept your paint-pot for me," she replied, softly.
"And the dove-cote, too," he rejoined, bowing finely, and almostcarried off his feet by his own brilliance.
She became serious at once--so quickly that he was ill prepared forit, and could do little but stare and pluck at the tassel of hissword, embarrassed before this maiden, who changed as quickly as thecurrents change under the brow of the Couperon Cliff, behind whichlay his manor-house of Rozel.
"I have visited at your manor, Monsieur of Rozel. I have seen thestate in which you live, your retainers, your men-at-arms, yourfarming-folk, and your sailor-men. I know how your Queen receivesyou; how your honor is as stable as your fief."
He drew himself up again proudly. He could understand this speech.
"Your horses and your hounds I have seen," she added, "yourmen-servants and your maid-servants, your fields of corn, yourorchards, and your larder. I have sometimes broken the commandmentand coveted them and envied you."
"Break the commandment again for the last time," he cried, delightedand boisterous. "Let us not waste words, lady. Let's kiss and have itover."
Her eyes flashed. "I coveted them and envied you; but, then, I am buta vain girl at times, and vanity is easier to me than humbleness."
"Blood of man, but I cannot understand so various a creatur
e!" hebroke in, again puzzled.
"There is a little chapel in the dell beside your manor, monsieur. Ifyou will go there, and get upon your knees, and pray till the candlesno more burn and the Popish images crumble in their places, you willyet never understand myself or any woman."
"There's no question of Popish images between us," he answered,vainly trying for foothold. "Pray as you please, and I'll see no harmcomes to the Mistress of Rozel."
He was out of his bearings and impatient. Religion to him was a dullrecreation invented chiefly for women.
She became plain enough now. "'Tis no images nor religion that standsbetween us," she answered, "though they might well do so. It is thatI do not love you, Monsieur of Rozel."
His face, which had slowly clouded, suddenly cleared.
"Love! Love!" He laughed good-humoredly. "Love comes, I'm told, withmarriage. But we can do well enough without fugling on that pipe.Come, come, dost think I'm not a proper man and a gentleman? Dostthink I'll not use thee well and 'fend thee, Huguenot though thouart, 'gainst trouble or fret or any man's persecutions--be he my lordbishop, my lord chancellor, or King of France, or any other?"
She came a step closer to him, even as though she would lay a handupon his arm. "I believe that you would do all that in you lay," sheanswered, steadily. "Yours is a rough wooing, but it is honest--"
"Rough! Rough!" he protested, for he thought he had behaved like someAdonis. Was it not ten years only since he had been at court?
"Be assured, monsieur, that I know how to prize the man who speaksafter the light given him. I know that you are a brave and valorousgentleman. I must thank you most truly and heartily, but, monsieur,you and yours are not for me. Seek elsewhere, among your own people,in your own religion and language and position, the Mistress ofRozel."
He was dumfounded. Now he comprehended the plain fact that he hadbeen declined.
"You send me packing!" he blurted out, getting red in the face.
"Ah, no! Say that is my misfortune that I cannot give myself thegreat honor," she said, in her tone a little disdainful dryness, alittle pity, a little feeling that here was a good friend lost.
"It's not because of the French soldier that was with Montgomery atDomfront?--I've heard that story. But he's gone to heaven, and 'tisvain crying for last year's breath," he said, with proud philosophy.
"He is not dead. And if he were," she added, "do you think, monsieur,that we should find it easier to cross the gulf between us?"
"Tut! tut! that bugbear love!" he said, shortly. "And so you'd lose agood friend for a dead lover? I' faith, I'd befriend thee well ifthou wert my wife, ma'm'selle."
"It is hard for those who need friends to lose them," she answered,sadly.
The sorrow of her position crept in upon her and filled her eyeswith tears. She turned them to the sea--instinctively towards thatpoint on the shore where she thought it likely Michel might be--asthough by looking she might find comfort and support in this hardhour.
Even as she gazed into the soft afternoon light she could see, farover, a little sail standing out towards the Ecrehos. Not once in sixmonths might the coast of France be seen so clearly. One might almosthave noted people walking on the beach. This was no good token, forwhen that coast may be seen with great distinctness a storm followshard after. The girl knew this, and, though she could not know thatthis was Michel de la Foret's boat, the possibility fixed itself inher mind. She quickly scanned the horizon. Yes, there in thenorthwest was gathering a dark-blue haze, hanging like small, filmycurtains in the sky.
The Seigneur of Rozel presently broke the silence so awkward for him.He had seen the tears in her eyes, and, though he could not guess thecause, he vaguely thought it might be due to his announcement thatshe had lost a friend. He was magnanimous at once, and he meant whathe said, and would stand by it through thick and thin.
"Well, well, I'll be thy everlasting friend if not thy husband," hesaid, with ornate generosity. "Cheer thy heart, lady."
With a sudden impulse she seized his hand and kissed it, and,turning, ran swiftly down the rocks towards her home.
He stood and looked after her, then, dumfounded, at the hand she hadkissed.
"Blood of my heart!" he said, and shook his head in utter amazement.
Then he turned and looked out upon the Channel. He saw the littleboat Angele had descried making from France. Glancing at the sky,"What fools come there!" he said, anxiously.
They were Michel de la Foret and Buonespoir the pirate, in ablack-bellied cutter with red sails.
A Ladder of Swords: A Tale of Love, Laughter and Tears Page 2