"Marguerite!"
He uttered but the one word, and stood gazing at her, but without touching her. Coming suddenly upon him out of the darkness he took her for a vision. But her arms were about his neck, and the warm pressure of her cheek against his convinced him of the reality of her presence. He could not take her in his manacled arms; but she kissed the fettered wrists, and wept to see the terrible difference the six weeks had wrought in his once stalwart form. The strong young soldier himself, to whom the sudden shock of joy had come so unexpectedly after his long and dreary solitude, could not keep back the tears. Their words were few and broken. Marguerite told him how she had found a way to reach him, and how the other two women were keeping guard above till her return; and he showed her the narrow space where he had walked up and down in the twilight all these weary days, and the hard pallet where he hadslept. Her tears flowed afresh at the sight. But the increasing noise on the deck above, the sounds of heavy feet and of men shouting, recalled them to the present.
"Where are we, dearest?" said Claude. "We cannot have reached Charlesbourg Royal?"
"No, would to Heaven that we had! It is Newfoundland, and my uncle has anchored to procure fresh water. O Claude, I shudder to think what will become of us. My uncle is surely mad. His temper has become so ungovernable that scarce a man on board dares to address him. I have thought sometimes that that wretch Gaillon, who is constantly in attendance upon him, must be keeping him under the influence of some drug or charm which is surely sapping his intelligence. I tremble when he approaches, for I know not what fresh insult he may heap upon me."
Claude ground his teeth.
"If I were but free, and had the use of my hands for five minutes!" he muttered. "Why did I submit to him for so long? But hark! there is surely something of unusual importance going on overhead."
By this time a boat had put off fromLa Grande Hermine, and Cartier was seen to enter it. Roberval stood on the poop, watching his approach in silence. Just at this moment some one touched his arm. It was Gaillon.
"Pardon, Sieur," he murmured in the nobleman's ear, "but some one has obtained access to the prisoner in the hold. I fear lest he may be planning an escape."
Roberval swore a fearful oath.
"Here, Bruneau, Gachet!" he exclaimed to two of the roughest and most villainous-looking of the crew, "down into the hold with you, and fetch me hither the prisoner and whoever it is who is with him. They will look well from yonder yard-arm."
He followed the men down the gangway, and stood waiting between decks while they descended into Claude's prison. Before the lovers could separate, one of the ruffians had rudely seized Marguerite by the shoulder. Claude raised his manacled arms and dealt him a blow which sent him staggering, but was himself instantly overpowered and pinioned by the other man, Gachet. Bruneau, recovering himself, and stinging from the blow he had received, turned upon Marguerite, and grasping her arm roughly, shouted: "Up with you to the deck, you hussy!"
Roberval heard the words, and it dawned upon him for the first time that it was his niece who was below. He sprang forward in time to see her, white as death, shake the man off, and ascend the ladder alone. Beside himself with rage as he was, he could not forget that she was a woman, and a De Roberval. Giving orders that Claude should be kept in his prison, with frigid politeness he took her hand and conducted her to her cabin, where Marie and the old nurse, half frantic with fear at the sounds which reached them, were still watching beside the open space in the floor.
"So, Madame," said Roberval between his set teeth, and with a steely glitter in his eyes, "so this is the ingenious means by which you contrived to visit your paramour. We shall finda way to make both of you dearly repent your stolen interviews."
He was gone before either of the women could utter a word, and they heard his stern and imperious voice addressing the man who had so rudely assaulted his niece.
"You, Pierre Bruneau, villain and cut-throat dog, shall learn what it is to insult a De Roberval. To the yard-arm with him!" exclaimed he to the men who had gathered about the gangway. "Cartier shall see what sort of discipline we keep."
No one dared to disobey. Bruneau was hurried on deck, the noose was cast about his neck, and as Cartier drew near the vessel his astonished eyes were greeted by the sight of the struggling form of the burly villain as he swung aloft.
As Cartier came on board his first words were:
"The Sieur De Roberval gives me a ghastly welcome."
"Such a welcome," returned De Roberval, "as awaits all who disobey my orders or insult my name. Why have you left Charlesbourg Royal?"
"Before I answer that question, Monsieur, I must know whether your last remark has reference to my having left my post without your orders?"
"What you will," said De Roberval, haughtily.
"Then, Sieur, I reserve the right to refuse an answer. I am my own master on the high seas; and Jacques Cartier will brook insult from no man."
His hand sought his sword as he spoke, and De Roberval's weapon flashed from its sheath.
A quarrel was imminent; but Roberval's rage seemed to subside as suddenly as it had arisen.
"Put up your sword," he said sternly. "We are the leaders, and the death of one or both of us would mean ruin to the enterprise."
"So far as I am concerned, Sieur, it is ended already. I serve under no man, least of all under one who uses such terms as you have just applied to me. I am not hasty to quarrel, but, being in, I will come out honourably, or die."
"Admirably said," replied De Roberval, "and Canada needs just such a man as yourself. I was hasty in my speech; but I had no thought that you had disobeyed orders. I merely supposed you to have left Canada because my long delay had forced you to conclude that I had given up the enterprise. You were too quick to misinterpret me. But why have you left Charlesbourg?" enquired he, as Cartier somewhat reluctantly sheathed his sword.
"Because, Sieur, we could do no more there. The natives were unfriendly, and our ammunition was well-nigh exhausted. Our men were openly mutinous; and I could do naught with the cut-throats from the prisons, half of whom deserted, and have been adopted by wandering bands of Indians."
Whatever De Roberval may have felt on hearing this news, he gave no sign.
"Be not disheartened," he said. "I have arms in plenty, and ammunition enough to conquer all the savages on the continent. Return to your vessels, and get ready to sail back with us on the morrow. All will yet be well."
But Cartier had formed a quick resolve. He would not go back. He saw the wretched crew ofcriminals who lined the deck about him, and he knew that Roberval's enterprise must end in failure. He determined to gain time.
"Be it so, Sieur," he replied. "To-morrow we will be ready for the return voyage. But where is our old friend, De Pontbriand? Have you not brought him with you?"
"He is on board," replied De Roberval, in an unmoved voice, "but he has been ill, and in a high fever. Perfect quiet is ordered for him. I should be disobeying the physician's orders did I allow you to see him."
Something in the metallic ring of his voice gave Cartier a cold shiver of dread, a menace of impending evil. It would have been useless to enquire further, however, and he returned to his ship to consult with La Pommeraye, his second in command, and with his other officers.
La Pommeraye had been left in charge ofLa Grande Herminewhile Cartier paid his visit to Roberval's ship. He anxiously awaited the news which Cartier brought, and his first enquiries naturally were for his friend, De Pontbriand.
"Ill, and in danger?" he exclaimed, when Cartier had repeated to him De Roberval's words. "I must go to him at once."
"Have I not just told you," said Cartier, "that no one can see him? De Roberval refused me that privilege, and think you that he will grant you permission? It is at the command of the leech, and doubtless there is need for his care. But we are ordered to return to Canada," added he, sharply.
"Never!" exclaimed Charles with energy. "The last year has taught us a lesson. No success can attend the efforts of France to plant a colony on the rugged shores of the Hochelaga."
"I fear me," said Cartier, "that there will be trouble if we refuse to go back. De Roberval would not hesitate to attempt force; and our men are so disheartened and weary after the hardships they have endured, that they will resist to the death any effort to compel them to return."
"Would it not be possible to return for a shorttime, and leave Charlesbourg before winter sets in? Another winter I will not spend in Canada—especially not with the scoundrels we have brought with us. And, if I mistake not, we shall have henceforth to contend with the Indians, who will now be aided by our wretched deserters."
"Were we once more on shore," returned Cartier, "it would be very hard to get away again. Roberval is a determined man, and he has full two hundred armed men on his ships. We should be outnumbered, and easily overpowered. If the colonists he has brought were of a better class than our own, there might be some hope of ultimate success; but the wretched crew who line his decks are of the lowest type. See, one of them swings from yonder yard even now! I fear the gallows we erected as a warning to our fellows will bear goodly and abundant fruit as soon as he becomes established in Canada. No, Charles, we must give him the slip under cover of darkness, and make away for France. I would not desert him if there were any chance of success; but with his following of lawless outcasts, even if he should succeed in forming a colony, it would be but a plague spot on the earth."
"But," interrupted La Pommeraye, "have you forgotten that De Pontbriand is lying ill on board that vessel? I cannot be so base as to desert my friend."
"I have thought of that also. But what good can you do by remaining? There is a physician on board, and priests, I believe. If he were to die you could do nothing by your presence; but he is young and strong, and will doubtless recover. I have a plan in my mind, besides, to save our friendsand the honour of France. King Francis trusts me. He ventured on this enterprise to fill the depleted treasury of France, and to spread the blessed kingdom of Christ. I will convince him that the efforts to establish a colony on the Hochelaga will only be a drain on his resources, and that he might as well try to keep a Malouin from going to sea as attempt to lead the red man into the kingdom of Heaven. Père Grand and Père Boisseau will bear me out in what I say; and I will then ask for a ship to go to the New World and compel Roberval and his colonists to return, if they have not in the meantime ended the existence of the colony by cutting each others' throats. There will be no other way of getting Claude back again; and, once in France, we can put all our energies into more profitable voyages to the Indies; or you may find an outlet for your ardour in using your sword against England and Spain. Francis will not long be able to keep out of war."
"But to desert one's friend, and that friend ill and helpless! I cannot do it," said La Pommeraye.
"It is no desertion. You can do no good by going on boardL'Heureux, and you may do much harm. In the present mood of De Roberval I fear the only way to prevent unnecessary bloodshed is to depart before he knows of our intention. Once safely in France, it will not be long before we are back in Canada to put an end to this foolish scheme of colonisation. To get permission to return, and a vessel to return in, I shall need your assistance."
"You are right, I suppose; but it goes hard with me to turn my back on Claude. And how shall Iever break the news of his illness to Mdlle. de Vignan?"
"Mdlle. de Vignan? I thought it was the black-eyed niece of that mad tyrant yonder."
"So did I, at first; but had you seen as much as I have, you would think otherwise. But that reminds me—I thought I saw women on board De Roberval's vessel when we hove to."
"Your eyes deceived you not. There was a sprinkling of them on the deck—miserable creatures, fitting mates for the hang-dogs who are to be the backbone of New France. There are some of them on all the vessels; they, too, have been recruited from the prisons. What a breed of sinners will spring up at Charlesbourg Royal if we allow this colony to take root!"
"Remember, then, I go on the understanding that we return as soon as we can get the King to recall the expedition. I shall not know a happy moment till I grasp Claude's hand once more."
If the truth must be owned, the prospect of seeing Marguerite so soon, and without the vigilant supervision of her uncle, considerably influenced La Pommeraye in consenting to the departure. Still he was loyal to his friend; and could any means have been devised of rescuing Claude from the fate that awaited him in the new colony, he would not have gone without making the attempt. But if their plan was to succeed, it must be put into effect immediately. A day's delay might be fatal.
Cartier sent for the captains of the other ships to come on boardLa Grande Hermine. On their arrival he pointed to the body which still swung from the yards of De Roberval's vessel, and toldthem what they might expect if they were to return.
They had had enough of Canada, and eagerly concurred in Cartier's plan of flight. They returned to their vessels, to make preparations to start at once on a signal from their leader.
Night dropped down upon the harbour; and in the calm June evening the sailors, jubilant at reaching a haven after the dangers of the broad Atlantic, began to sing some of the chansons of their Old World home. The fishermen in the boats caught up the song, and a glad chorus swelled out upon the still waters; but on Cartier's vessels there was silence. The crews had learned that Roberval had commanded their return, and they also knew that Cartier had no intention of obeying. Indeed, had he attempted to do so, so disgusted had they become with the dreary and toilsome life at Charlesbourg Royal, that they would undoubtedly have mutinied. Their determined faces peered through the gathering darkness. None went to rest that night. They knew that if a breeze sprang up Cartier meant to take advantage of it, and steal out of the harbour.
One singer after another grew weary, and towards midnight only a few intermittent notes broke the stillness. Soon all was silent as the grave, save for the occasional cry of some animal prowling in search of food upon the shore.
About one in the morning a gentle breeze swept across the water from the land. A silent signal passed between Cartier's vessels, and instantly dark forms moved hither and thither about their decks. No sound was heard, but preparations were beingmade to sail immediately. It was impossible to raise the anchors without alarming De Roberval; so the cables were quietly slipped, the sails were as quietly hoisted, and the three vessels swung round simultaneously, swept within a hundred yards of De Roberval's ship, and bore away for the harbour mouth. The lookout saw them, but, half asleep and deeming them part of the fishing fleet, said not a word.
In the meantime Marguerite, worn out with all she had undergone during the day, had fallen into an uneasy sleep, broken by troubled dreams. After the scene with her uncle, which had ended in the hanging of the ill-fated Bruneau, she had sent for her confessor, the good Père Lebeau, the only priest on boardL'Heureux. This good man, by using his influence with De Roberval, had gained admission to Claude's prison, and had repeatedly visited him, administering comfort and consolation, and encouraging him to wait with hope and patience for the end of the voyage. It so happened that he had left the ship in one of the boats which had put off to procure fresh water; and so was not present during the stormy scene in the hold, or the interview between Cartier and Roberval which followed. On his return, however, he received from the lips of Marguerite a full account of all that had taken place. He remained with her some time, consoling and reassuring her, and left her somewhat comforted by his promises to see De Roberval, and endeavour once more to convince him of the mistaken course he was pursuing.
After dark, Marguerite, with Mdlle. De Vignanand old Bastienne, stole on deck for a breath of fresh air, and to gaze with wistful eyes on Cartier's ships. The body of Bruneau still swung from the yards, a ghastly vision in the dim twilight. They shuddered as they saw it.
"But courage, Marguerite," whispered Marie. "Cartier is close at hand, and he and La Pommeraye will surely be able to influence your uncle. I feel certain that to-morrow will bring us better things."
"I hope so," said Marguerite sadly. "It is indeed time. If Charles de la Pommeraye learns the fate of his friend, he will not rest until he has freed Claude, I am certain. But my uncle will brook no opposition; and I fear there will be more blood shed before anything can be accomplished."
She sighed as she spoke; and after a little the three women returned to their narrow, cramped quarters below, where Marie, clasping her friend in her arms, tried to comfort her with hopes of what the morrow held in store. Just as they fell asleep, cheered a little in their loneliness by this gleam of hope,La Grande Herminestole silently past in the darkness outside, and bore away for France.
When De Roberval came on deck the next morning he swept his eye about the harbour, but looked in vain for Cartier's ships.
"Send the lookouts of last night to me at once," shouted he to his sailing-master, Jehan Alfonse. "What watch did you take?" sternly enquired he of a young Malouin who stood trembling before him.
"From eight to twelve, Sieur."
"And saw you the vessels leaving the harbour?"
"No, Sieur; no vessel passed us while I was at my post."
"And I, Sieur," said a tanned old sailor who had explored every part of the then known world, "went on at four this morning, but not a mouse stirred after that time; and indeed they could not have escaped without my knowledge, for it has been broad day since that hour."
"I fear, Sieur," timidly said a young Picard from Roberval's estate, who had stood silent in the background, "that I am to blame for not alarming the ship, if blame there be on any one. I had scarce gone on my watch when the three vessels swept by us. So noiselessly did they go that I deemed them some sleepy fishermen on their way to the banks."
"Sacré Dieu!" shouted Roberval; "you have ruined us all! Did I give you the fate you deserve, I would hang you as high as I did Bruneau yesterday! Take him below," exclaimed he to the men who stood by, "and keep him in irons for the rest of the voyage."
"Be not too hard upon the young man, Sieur," interposed Jehan Alfonse, stepping forward; "he is a faithful sailor, and a true; and we have too few reliable men on board to turn those against us on whom we can depend."
"Silence!" roared De Roberval, now in a towering passion. "Have I asked for your advice? I know on what I can depend—my own will and yonder rope. Have a care lest you find your own head in it."
"Sieur," rejoined the sailing-master, with firmness, "you may insult me—you may hang me if you will—but I must speak. I warn you that ifyou pursue your present course the expedition will be ruined before we reach Charlesbourg Royal, if it is not already ruined. Your hasty words to Jacques Cartier yesterday have lost us the best seaman in the world, for he has doubtless set sail for France."
"You will find, at least," exclaimed De Roberval, who was by this time in a white heat, "that I am commander in my own ship. Leave the vessel at once. Board theFrançois, and take with you this villain whose carelessness has ruined our fortunes. And stay. I will be generous. You are possessed by a mad idea that by going north you will find a way to China and the Indies. Go, then, and when you have finished your fool's errand return to Charlesbourg Royal, and prepare to obey my commands."
Jehan Alfonse's heart leaped with delight. He cared not for insults now; he was free, in command of a ship, and could follow out the cherished scheme of his life! He would find what Columbus had failed to discover—the long-sought north-west passage. This great polar current which swept down from the north must come from somewhere. He would follow the coast of Labrador. This mighty continent could not go on for ever; there must be a way round it, and his name would be handed down as its discoverer. He was not long in leavingL'Heureux, and before the day closed was out of sight on his northward journey.
De Roberval had a sinister motive in sending him away. He had spent a sleepless night. The evening before Père Lebeau had had a long interview with him, and had pleaded the cause ofMarguerite and her lover, assuring De Roberval of their innocence, and begging him to persist no longer in his cruel imprisonment of Claude. But De Roberval's insensate rage was only increased. He refused to listen to arguments, and ordered the priest from his presence. The good father, seeing that his efforts were only making the situation worse, was obliged to desist from his entreaties, and left the cabin with a heavy heart. During the whole night De Roberval lay awake, brooding over some means of avenging his insulted authority; and by morning he had decided that De Pontbriand should be made an example to the crew. The form of Bruneau kept swinging back and forth before his disordered mental vision, and as he gazed upon it he resolved that De Pontbriand's should take its place. At first, as the diabolical thought took shape, he recoiled from it. Hang a gentleman of France! But a madness seized him, and crushing down his better impulses he decided to put his resolve into execution, and teach all on board that the same fate awaited every man—be he noble or peasant—who disobeyed his will.
But he feared Jehan Alfonse. He knew the staunch and courageous sailing-master would oppose his action; and he determined to get rid of him. He smiled a grim smile as he saw his vessel fleetly winging her way out to the Atlantic. He dreaded Cartier, too; and had made up his mind to delay the execution until he had sent him on his way towards Charlesbourg Royal. Now, however, he could proceed with his scheme; both the obstacles had been removed, and nothing need prevent his carrying out his plan at once. But he feared lestPaul d'Auxhillon, and the one or two friends of Claude who had accompanied him, might oppose his design; and, accordingly, he consulted with Gaillon before putting it into execution.
That villain was delighted with the turn things were taking.
"You are acting wisely, noble Sieur," he said. "I have long felt that De Pontbriand there in the hold was the gravest menace to the success of our colony. Already I have discovered several plots for his release, and I have long known that only his death could bring us safety. But do not proceed with his execution till the morrow. To-night I will sound the faithful, and have them ready to strike down any one offering the least resistance. Would it not be well to have all on board witness this meting-out of justice?"
"All," exclaimed De Roberval. "Every soul, including his paramour. Leave me now, and have everything in readiness by the morning."
When the first grey of dawn was beginning to chase away the mists of the night the bell onL'Heureuxbegan to toll out across the water. Its warning notes sent a thrill of expectancy through the ship. The majority of those on board knew the meaning of that solemn knell; and the rest, when, after the accustomed eight strokes which marked the end of the watch, the bell continued its measured clanging, were filled with a vague alarm of they knew not what. The fishermen in the harbour were roused by the sound, and the crews of the boats lined their rigging, prepared, after the ghastly spectacle which had greeted them on the arrival ofL'Heureux, tobehold some new example of De Roberval's discipline.
Soon every soul on board the vessel stood on the deck, with the exception of the three women, and De Roberval, noting their absence, went below himself, and roughly ordered them to dress and come above at once.
When all were assembled, De Roberval addressed them. His face was pale and set, and his eye glittered with a cold and cruel resolve.
"You have come," said he, "to see a crime receive its just punishment, and though shame has come upon my own kindred, my hand shall not relax. Bring the prisoner on deck."
As Gaillon and two of the crew departed to fetch Claude, Père Lebeau, who had witnessed with horror the development of events, hastened to Roberval's side, and with his hand on his arm besought him to consider.
"Your niece is guiltless, Monsieur," he cried. "Will you bring dishonour on your name, and murder an innocent man without a trial?"
De Roberval shook him angrily off, and bade him interfere no further, or he should share Claude's fate.
"I care not for myself," said the intrepid priest. "I cannot stand by and witness a murder in cold blood. Is there no brave man in all this throng who will help me to resist this tyrant?"
Paul d'Auxhillon, and the one or two other gentlemen on board, who now for the first time realised what was about to happen, sprang forward with drawn swords, and were joined by a couple of Roberval's Picard retainers. For a moment it looked as if Claude's fate might be averted.
But Gaillon had done his work well. At a signal from De Roberval, the men who were drawn up on both sides of the deck rushed forward; the half-dozen volunteers were quickly overpowered, and after a short struggle were pinioned and rendered helpless.
Just at this moment Gaillon appeared with the prisoner. The sight of his pale face and unkempt hair, his worn, almost emaciated limbs, and bruised and swollen wrists, awakened a murmur of sympathy even among the lawless wretches who composed the crew.
Marguerite, who had stood like one in a dream while these events were taking place, realised for the first time, at the sight of her lover, what Roberval's intentions were. Her proud spirit, which had so nobly sustained her throughout the voyage, gave way at last, and she threw herself at her uncle's feet, beseeching him to have mercy.
Roberval vouchsafed her no answer, but, raising her with an iron grip, he bore her half-swooning to where Marie and Bastienne were cowering together at the side of the vessel.
"Do your duty," said he to Gaillon; "and if any man raises a word of protest he shall swing from the other end of the yard."
Gaillon needed no second bidding. The noose was swiftly thrown over Claude's neck; the rope was drawn tight, and the priest, on whom no man had ventured to lay a hand, stood holding the crucifix before his eyes, and murmuring the last offices of the Church. Just as the young man was about to be swung aloft, he turned with unflinchingcalmness to De Roberval, and with firm, unwavering tones said:
"The son of Louise d'Artignan curses you with his dying breath! May you perish miserably by your own murderous hand!"
De Roberval's whole expression changed on the instant from cold impassiveness to wild fury. He made one step forward as if he himself would have ended Claude's life with a blow, then paused—and held up his hand.
"Stay, Gaillon," he thundered. "Take the dog down! Send him back to his kennel! Your mother's cursed eyes have saved you!" he hissed at Claude. "I shall find another way to make you suffer."
He turned on his heel, and those nearest him heard him mutter "Louise d'Artignan!" under his breath. As the words left his lips he fell headlong on the deck, foaming at the mouth.
Gaillon sent his prisoner below, drew a phial from his pocket, and forced a few drops between the nobleman's tightly clenched teeth. Then he carried him to his berth, and remained by his side, watching and tending him alone; while on deck every man drew his breath more freely, and whispered words of astonishment passed from lip to lip.
All that day and the following nightL'Heureuxand her consorts lay at anchor. Towards afternoon Roberval recovered sufficiently to issue commands, which Gaillon transmitted to the crew. So subdued were the men by the strange scenes they had witnessed, and so much in awe did they stand of Roberval and the terrible Gaillon, that there was none of the disorder which might naturally have been expected. Jehan Alfonse's place had been filled by an experienced and resolute seaman named Jacques Herbert, in whom Roberval had perfect confidence. Under his direction the men returned to their occupations; the prisoners of the morning were released; and soon no trace was visible of the extraordinary events which had taken place. Claude remained in the hold, and Marguerite was too ill to leave her cabin.
The next morning, when Roberval came on deck, a strong southerly wind was sweeping across the harbour. Herbert was at once ordered to get the vessel ready for sea. Crew and sailing-master were alike eager to leave the place which had been the scene of so many horrors, and willing hands soon had the sails unfurled, the anchor on the cat-headand the helm hard down, as the vessel swung round and sped away for the broad Atlantic.
"To the north," said De Roberval, as Herbert came to him to learn which direction he should take. "It is the shorter course, if the more dangerous. We will follow in the tracks of Jehan Alfonse. And I may want to touch at the barren lands of Labrador. Gold is ever found in regions of barrenness, and gold is needed for our colony."
Herbert was a rugged sailor, who thought more of a bit of salt beef and a bottle of brandy than of ingots of gold. Gold, to him, was only good for the spending; and what use it would be in the New World, where there was nothing to buy that could not be had for a few glass beads and a leaden trinket or two, was more than his intellect could conceive. He shrugged his shoulders at the nobleman's whim, as he deemed it, but answered a cheerful "Ay, ay, Monsieur." And as the vessels stood out past the headland, and on towards the white stretch of rolling waters, his trumpet voice rang out: "Starboard your helm! 'Tend to the sheets!"
In a moment the gallant craft was sweeping on her northward way, with her sails swelling before the following breeze, riding over the summits of the chasing waves. All night she sailed, and all through the following day, and still the rugged shores of Newfoundland stood on their left. On the third day a small, misty cloud appeared on the horizon ahead. At first, the seamen thought it was another ship, but one, more keen-sighted than the others, declared it was an island.
"An island?" said a hardy fisherman who had made many voyages to the New World for fishsince Columbus discovered it, "then it must be the 'Isle of Demons.' I have been on the lookout for it. The air has for some hours been hot and stifling."
"Nonsense, Laurent! It is your imagination."
"Steer away from it," insisted the sailor. "Let us hug the main shore. I know the spot; no vessel ever sails near it. Several did in early times, but the demons pounced upon them, shattered their crafts on the rocks, and carried off the crews to their haunts."
Others had heard of it too, and a thrill of superstitious awe spread among the crew. As the distant land drew nearer, lips ever polluted with profanity, hearts black with crime, called on the saints to save and protect them; and even the sceptical Herbert, as he gazed on the dark rock crowned with curling mists, fancied with the rest that he could see weird, awful shapes hovering about the shore. The horror of the place seized him. He rushed to the helm, pressed it hard down, and endeavoured to give the dreaded island as wide a berth as possible.
At this moment Roberval appeared on the scene to enquire into the cause of the disturbance.
"What means this?" exclaimed he to Herbert.
"The Isle of Demons," muttered the now thoroughly alarmed sailor. "Can you not hear their fierce voices clamouring after us?"
"The Isle of Demons! What care I for all the demons in hell? Back to your course at once; we have lost too much time already."
"But, Monsieur," said the old fisherman who had first spoken, "they have been known to utterlydestroy vessels and men e'er this. Guillaume de Noué dared to defy them, and attempted to sail close to the island, but e'er his ship could reach an anchorage, she sank without a warning, bearing the entire crew down with her, excepting Guillaume, who was borne aloft by the demons, and carried to their inland abodes."
"And who," replied De Roberval, sarcastically, "can vouch for the tale, seeing all the crew perished, and the brave captain was transported to the lower world? You will have to invent some better story, good Laurent."
"Pardon, Monsieur, but I can answer for its truth. I was with Guillaume, sailing theBelle Marie. We were following hard after him when his vessel went down like lead, and I saw with mine own eyes good Master Guillaume borne aloft by the devils. There was no mistaking him; his red hose and scarlet hat were the only ones on board his ship. I would have attempted to rescue him, but my crew, who also witnessed the sight, fell upon me, seized the helm, and rested nor day nor night till we were safely in the harbour of St Malo, and not a man of them could ever again be persuaded to enter a craft bound for the New World."
"Pish!" said Roberval, scornfully. "Port your helm, Herbert, and steer for that island. I am master on this expedition, and if there be any demons on the land they must pay homage to me. But methinks we shall find neither the red hose of your friend, nor the abode of any demons, but a few redskins who have been blown ashore here from Newfoundland, and dare not return."
"But, Sieur——" began the trembling Herbert.
"But not me," said De Roberval. "Port your helm, or I run you through!" and he threateningly drew his rapier. In an instant the course of the vessel was changed, and, to the consternation of the sailors, bore down upon the haunted island. The black waters grew blacker as they drew near, and each moment they expected to find their ship sinking beneath them. The lead was thrown, but no anchorage could be found; and it was not till they were within a couple of hundred yards of the shore that the welcome sound of the rattling chain and dropping anchor was heard.
The land was indeed uninviting. Barren, sterile, brown as an autumn field; grey cliffs rose on all sides, the tops of which could not be discerned, for a heavy fog hung upon them and revealed only the dark base. Gulls and terns flew screaming overhead, and swooped about the strange vessel which had dared invade the sacred precincts of their island. The great waves, rolling in on the iron-bound shore, kept up a continuous artillery, as the mighty boulders ground along the stony beach. Dull, hollow groans issued from the many caves which time had worn in the cliffs; and the hissing of the waters, the booming of the rocks, the perpetual bellow of the waves on the shore, and the wild shrieks of the birds, all made it seem to the terrified seamen that they had indeed reached the abode of the Prince of Evil.
But two men were in no way affected by the scene or the uproar—Michel Gaillon and De Roberval. The latter had formed a sudden determination. His niece and her companionsmust be punished. Kill them with his own hand he could not, and to put them out of the way, without making a public example of them, would be revenge without purpose; for the man, despite his mad barbarity, was convinced that he was working for great and noble ends. Now a glorious opportunity was given him to teach a salutary lesson. He would land the women on this desolate spot, giving them provisions for a year, and before that time he could return for them and bring them to his colony. This would surely establish his authority, and be a warning to all wrong-doers for the future.
He turned to Gaillon, who stood near him, smiling at the terrors of the crew.
"Get the boat ready, and order the women to prepare to land. I am going to give them a holiday on the island."
This was a project after Gaillon's own heart. He rubbed his hands with fiendish delight, and set about giving the necessary orders. A boat was soon lowered, and filled with provisions, clothing, and ammunition in plenty. Gaillon and two or three of the desperadoes whom he had completely under his control, pulled ashore and landed their cargo. Roberval himself superintended the selection from the ship's stores, and thrice did he order the boat to return, each time with as large a load as it could carry.
All this time the rest of the crew stood gaping with astonishment, unable to imagine what Roberval's intentions might be, but ready, at the slightest addition to their superstitious fears, to fly into open mutiny.
At last the boat returned from her third trip. Roberval, in the meantime, had ordered the women to get ready to go on shore, and they now came on deck, bewildered with surprise, and uncertain what fate might be in store for them. Roberval commanded them to enter the boat, which was now alongside. A murmur of dismay and sympathy went round the vessel, as the full horror of his project dawned upon the crew; but no man dared to interfere, save Père Lebeau. Undaunted by his rebuff of a few days before, the priest stepped up to De Roberval, and fixing his eyes full upon him, he exclaimed:
"Sieur, beware what you do! What are your intentions towards these helpless women who have no other protector but yourself? You cannot be so lost to all sense of honour and chivalry as to abandon them to perish on this desolate shore! How can you expect the blessing of God upon this enterprise if you wilfully do this great wrong? Take care lest the Church should refuse to pardon you, and should cast from her fold the man who could be guilty of so monstrous a crime."
For a moment Roberval's gaze shifted under the scathing indignation of the priest, then, drawing him hastily aside, he muttered in an undertone:
"Spare your wrath, good Father; I but mean to teach them a lesson. I will return for them in good time—I swear it. It is but a necessary discipline that I would give them, so that they may learn to obey me for the future."
"They will die of terror!" said the priest. "You have heard the legends of the demons who haunt the island; and how do you know to what perilsyou are subjecting them from the savages, if not indeed from evil spirits?"
"There are no signs of habitation in the island," said De Roberval, impatiently. "My men have explored it thoroughly. No Indians have ever been there, and a good fright will do them no harm. Demons," he went on, raising his voice so that all could hear, "what care I for demons? Our blessed Lord cast seven of them forth out of Mary Magdalene, and methinks that this strumpet and her companions have each seventy times seven still in their disobedient bodies. But ashore they shall go. Plead not for them; your prayers will be in vain."
The priest would have spoken further, but Marguerite, who now understood her uncle's design, came forward with the courage and dignity which seldom failed her, and, with head erect and unwavering voice, said calmly:
"Distress yourself no longer on our account, good Father. I welcome with joy any fate which will deliver me from the tender mercies of a tyrant. This, then," and she turned her clear gaze upon her uncle, "is the father's care you show an orphan child? This is the protection you extend to that other fatherless and motherless girl so lately left in your charge? Can it be that a De Roberval has sunk to so ignoble a breach of honour and faith? I pray God," she went on more softly, "that He may drive out the evil spirit which has possessed you, and restore your noble and generous nature. You are no longer the uncle I once loved."
She ceased speaking, and quietly allowedherself to be lowered into the boat. Marie, weeping bitterly, followed her, and finally old Bastienne, filling the air with sobs and lamentations, was deposited beside her mistress. The men took up their oars, and waited the signal for departure.
Roberval was gloomily pacing the deck. His niece's words had gone home, and he was on the point of relenting. But he had already allowed his weakness to turn him once from his purpose, and to fail again, in sight of his assembled crew, was too great a humiliation to be thought of. He hardened his heart, and said sternly to Gaillon:
"See them safely landed; take care that they want for nothing, and return quickly. We must be out of this before darkness falls. The wind is rising, and I should not care to be caught on this shore should a storm come up."
The boat made a hurried final trip, and the three women were put off on the desolate beach. The oarsmen needed not Gaillon's words: "Back now, with might and main," to hasten them on their return journey. They pulled for dear life; and through the overhanging mist they seemed to see the shapes of the demons dancing weirdly down to seize their prey. Once back in the vessel the anchor was hurriedly raised, and all hands eagerly assisted in the work of getting under way once more.
But while this was taking place Roberval's heart had devised a yet more cruel vengeance.
"Bring the prisoner on deck," he exclaimed, "and let him see the results of his disobedience."
When Claude stood beside him on the high poop, he ordered him to look at the island, wherethe three women stood together on the beach. The long confinement in the semi-darkness of the hold had affected Claude's eyesight, and for a moment, as he gazed across the lines of the gleaming waves, he could see nothing. But just as the returning boat reached the ship's side, and the men hastily came on board, he caught sight of the group upon the shore.
"O just God!" he cried, "can this be permitted?"
"Thus," replied De Roberval, "a just God has made me the instrument to chastise vice. Behold, young man, the work of your hands!"
"Were my hands free," said De Pontbriand, fiercely, "I would become an instrument of God to rid the world of the basest liar and tyrant who ever served his master, the Devil."
"I will be generous," said De Roberval. "Free the dog's hands, and let him wave a last adieu to his paramour."
The rusty lock turned, the manacles fell upon the deck, and Claude stood free. But free on an ocean prison, with enemies on all sides! He gave one glance round, met the cruel eyes of Gaillon close behind him, and like a flash plunged headlong into the ocean.
"Shoot the villain down!" shouted De Roberval.
One of the men seized an arquebuse, and levelled it at the struggling form in the water. He pulled the trigger, but no sooner did the powder splutter in the pan than the gun burst in his hands, and a piece of the metal, entering his brain, laid him dead on the deck.
"The demons, the demons!" exclaimed thepanic-stricken crew. "The demons claim the swimmer for their own!"
"Let him go!" said De Roberval. "He is too weak to reach the shore. He has saved me the trouble of ending his life, as I should sooner or later have had to do. Now for Charlesbourg Royal. No man will venture to resist my will in future."
The anchor was already raised, and in a few momentsL'Heureuxbegan to forge ahead, and to widen the space between her and the accursed island.
As Claude had stood on the poop he was plainly visible to the watchers on the shore. They saw him leap into the sea, and heard the report of the arquebuse. Their hearts stood still with fear: but they strained their eyes eagerly across the dazzling surface of the water. Could he have escaped? Yes, there on the summit of a wave, in the wake of the rapidly retreating vessel, they saw him struggling. He was swimming. He was making for the shore. God help him! Holy Mother help him! Blessed Jesu, guide him and give him strength!
Old Bastienne's sobs had given place to fervent ejaculations of prayer; and as she prayed she held before her the cross which King Francis had bestowed upon De Roberval—the precious relic said to have been fashioned from a fragment of the true cross of our Lord.
Bastienne was a pious soul, and, moreover, a quick-witted one. She had heard the legends of the island, which had passed among the sailors, and when she grasped the fact that they were tobe put ashore, she made some excuse to return below, crept into De Roberval's cabin, and stole the precious relic from its case, concealing it carefully in her bodice. No evil spirit could come near the place where this blessed piece of wood might be; with this in their possession they were safe from all the powers of darkness. She now held the cross aloft, believing that it would give the swimmer power to reach the shore.
Weakened by his long imprisonment, his arms almost useless through lack of employment, his strength sapped for want of proper nourishment, De Pontbriand was manfully struggling with the salt, green waves. His head was sinking lower and lower, a deadly numbness was seizing his limbs, and his heart was almost failing him when his half-closed eyes caught the gleam of the golden cross, as the setting sun fell upon it, held high in the air by Bastienne. He made no further effort to swim. A good hundred yards intervened between him and the shore. He must husband his strength. The waves, he knew, would carry him ashore; and with just enough motion in his limbs to keep him afloat, he allowed himself to be borne along. But the northern water was chilling him to the marrow; and although he could plainly see the women on the beach, and could hear their prayers and cries of encouragement, he felt himself sinking, and De Roberval's prophecy seemed about to be realised. When within forty feet of the shore his chilled limbs relaxed, his eyes closed, and he disappeared beneath the surface of the water.
But Bastienne had all her wits about her. Inher young days she had plunged into the Somme as joyously as the bravest Picard lads, and old as she was her limbs were still strong and sturdy. Without a moment's hesitation, when she saw Claude's strength leave him, she plunged into the water, struck out boldly in his direction, and, just as he sank from sight, her strong arm grasped him. With all her remaining strength she dragged him after her to the shore, and Marguerite and Marie rushed into the water to their waists to help her with her burden.
Far off in the retreating ship the watchers believed that he had been given a prey to the demons. Passing a headland they came upon a full-grown seal, which slid from the rocks into the sea, presenting to them its half-human face. Believing it to be a demon, they crossed themselves in terror, and as Claude disappeared from their sight they were convinced that it had gone in search of him, and dragged him down into the infernal world.
Meanwhile, Marguerite sat on the shore, with Claude's pale face in her hands, kissing his lips and eyes, and praying the Holy Virgin to restore him, and not to take her last hope from her.
For a time it seemed as if Claude were indeed dead. The women chafed his cold hands, and did all that Bastienne's skill could suggest; but their efforts seemed unavailing, and they had almost abandoned hope, when Marie, searching among the stores, found a case of brandy, and hastened to moisten his lips with the liquor. Soon, to their great joy, the blood began to come back to his cheek, and they could feel his heart beat. At last he opened his eyes like one in a dream, and met those of Marguerite bending over him. The nightmare he had just passed through came back to him—the fearful struggle to reach the shore, the sound of the water in his ears, like the ringing of innumerable bells, the feeling of despair that had come over him as he felt himself sinking. Full consciousness returned to him at the sound of Marguerite's voice exclaiming:
"He lives! O Mary be praised, we are saved!"
Saved indeed, but for what? An island prison in an unfrequented ocean, where years might pass before a ship hove in sight. Night was fast drawing in, and they were shelterless, in a dreary, unknown waste, exposed to they knew not what dangers. They were three helpless women, two ofthem tenderly nurtured and wholly unused to want or privation; and De Pontbriand was in no condition to be of any assistance. Their position seemed indeed desperate, and Claude cursed the bitter fate which had made him the cause of bringing such misfortune on his beloved.
But old Bastienne came once more to the rescue. Her stolid, peasant endurance and ready Picard wit stood the whole party in good stead. She found a flint and steel—for De Roberval had provided for all necessities—and with the aid of the two girls she collected brushwood and dry branches enough to make a huge fire, the smoke of which, rising high into the air, was visible on the horizon from the departing ship. The sailors fell on their knees in terror at the sight, believing it another proof that the demons were consuming their victims with unquenchable flames.
Bastienne soon had Claude's wet clothes dried, and his strength revived by hot stimulants. Provisions they had in plenty—of the rude fare which was provided on ship-board in those days—and the old woman prepared a hasty meal, of which she forced the two girls to partake. But by this time the darkness had gathered round them, and it was impossible to do anything further that night.
Fortunately, the time of year was a favourable one. The weather was warm, even for June; and the storm which Roberval had predicted seemed to have passed over, for the present at all events. The balmy air and clear sky of a Canadian summer night made the prospect of spending it in the open air a much less terrible one than it would otherwisehave been. They kept their fire up all night, as a protection, but they met with no alarms, and were unmolested, save by the insects which swarmed in the air around them, attracted by the light. Claude, worn out by fatigue, slept the deep sleep of exhaustion, and Marguerite spent most of the night watching by his side, while the other two women attended to the fire.
The short June night soon gave place to the ghostly, grey twilight before the dawn; and at last the welcome streaks of colour in the east proclaimed to the weary watchers that daylight was again at hand. Their first night in their island home was over.
The morning broke fair and cloudless, and the little colony of four set about surveying their situation, and exploring their new domain. They found it a wilderness indeed—barren, rocky, almost devoid of vegetation, save for the coarse bracken and juniper bushes which grew in patches, and for an occasional clump of birches, stunted pines, or firs. No sign that any human foot save their own had ever visited it could be discovered: and the only animals they met with were hares in abundance, and foxes, both red and black, which scampered away in terror at their approach, and surveyed them from a distance with bright, timid eyes. Sea-birds in great numbers hovered about the cliffs on the shore, and what most aroused their astonishment and interest, were the solemn, ungainly auks, which had their abodes along the beach. These uncouth and helpless-looking birds, disturbed in their occupation of fishing among the rocky shallows, waddled off in alarm at theapproach of the intruders, who were irresistibly moved to laughter at their clumsy movements. No doubt these strange creatures had in part given rise to many a weird tale of the demon inhabitants of the island.
De Pontbriand, whose strength was wonderfully recruited by the long rest and Bastienne's skilful treatment, set about preparing some kind of shelter for the women before another night should descend upon them. His soldiering experiences, and still more his adventures in the wilds of Canada, came to his aid, and he was not long in constructing a sort of rude wigwam, such as he had seen the Indians build wherever they pitched their camps. Fragrant pine boughs made a luxurious couch, and the exhausted girls were glad to throw themselves down and sleep, while Claude kept watch by the fire outside. On the next day, and the two following ones, he employed himself in thatching the primitive dwelling with birch bark and whatever materials he could find which would shed the rain from its sloping sides. For himself, he found a sheltered hollow among the rocks, where neither wind nor rain could affect him greatly, and their stores he disposed among the many similar rocky caverns with which the island abounded.
His preparations were finished none too soon. The clouds which had been hovering about for several days, finally gathered together one afternoon, and rolled in heavy, thunderous masses up out of the southern sky. The air grew dark and sultry, lightning flashed from the depths of the purple cloud-bank; soon the thunder crashed overhead, and the waves lashed themselves in furyagainst the shore. The storm was upon them in all its might. It was not of long duration, but was followed by a good deal of rain during the night, and the next morning there was a furious gale blowing. The waves rose to such a height that the spray from their crests was dashed over the frail shelter Claude had erected; and he saw that something more permanent and durable must be contrived. Summer would pass, and winter might swoop down upon them out of the desolate north before there was any chance of their being rescued. A dwelling which would be a protection from cold and snow and the biting blasts of a Canadian winter, must be erected. But how? And with what materials? Tools he had in plenty, but how to construct a dwelling out of the stunted and wind-twisted trees, which were all the timber the island afforded, was a conundrum he saw no prospect of solving.
As it happened, however, fortune favoured him. The very next day, as he wandered along a high, rocky part of the shore, he saw in the shallow water at his feet what seemed to be the hull of a vessel. Making his way down the cliff, he found to his delight that such was indeed the case. No doubt these were the remains of that same ill-fated craft which Laurent, the fisherman, had seen disappear beneath the waves. The timbers had been of good oak, and the waves, breaking them asunder as they rolled in from the mighty expanse outside, had washed many of them high and dry on the shore. There was abundance for a hut, and with these, and the help of what trees he could avail himself of, he had hopes of being able to build a moresubstantial habitation before the cold weather set in.
In the meantime, his strength came rapidly back to him, and in the long, bright summer days and glorious nights, life still seemed to hold possibilities of joy and hope for the little party. They were supplied with the necessaries of life—though they were careful to husband their stores as much as possible; and Claude was able to vary their plain fare by the addition of excellent fish, and an occasional bird—for they were well supplied with fire-arms and ammunition. The hardy, open-air life seemed to agree with the two girls; and all four vied with each other in keeping up a resolute and cheerful courage, avoiding all reference to the terrors the future might hold in store.
In the cove where the sunken brig lay, Claude had made a rude raft, and with the assistance of Marie, whose strong young arms and bright, courageous spirit were invaluable to him, he soon had enough planks and timber transported to the place where they had landed. To get them ashore, and carried to the spot he had selected as being the most sheltered and suitable for his purpose, was no easy matter; but with time, and the united efforts of the whole party, every obstacle was gradually overcome. The building, although a small one, was slow in attaining completion, and for weeks the sound of Claude's hammer and saw disturbed the primeval quiet of the little northern island. The women lent their help in every possible way; and watched with admiration the skilful manner in which Claude provided against every emergency which might befall the little dwelling;none gave a sign of the secret and cherished hope of all their hearts, that they might never need to complete it, or to occupy it when completed.
Thus July and August passed; and towards the end of the latter month the "castle," as Marie had gaily designated it, was at last finished. They transferred themselves and their belongings to its shelter, and, as it happened, only just in time. The weather, as usual about that time of year, suddenly changed, and a fierce gale swept across the island. For three days the rain fell in torrents, and the mad waves rolled higher and higher up the beach, till the spot where their summer shelter had stood was completely covered. The nights, too, became cold and dreary; and the dismal shrieking of the wind through the trees, and the hoarse bellowing of the sea among the crags and caves, had a terrifying effect that made it hard for even the brave spirits of these high-born Frenchwomen to preserve their calm and hopeful bearing.
With the shortening days and autumn winds a sadness crept over the little colony, and would not be shaken off. Its influence was, perhaps, most felt by Marie, though her bright vivaciousness never failed her when the others were present. The lovers could not be wholly unhappy while they had each other. Their future was full of uncertainty, and the present of difficulties and dangers, but at least they were together, and separation had been the bitterest of their trials. With Marie it was necessarily otherwise. She could not but feel herself alone, in a sense which was unknown to the other two; and it became her habit, in the mellow September days, to wander byherself along the shore, often sitting for hours, her hands clasped on her knees, gazing in vain at the distant, empty horizon. She had one companion—a young fox which Claude had caught and tamed for her. The little animal had grown devotedly attached to her, and as it grew older it became her constant attendant in all her rambles. Marguerite could not fail to notice the long absences of her friend, and often went in search of her, and brought her back to join Claude and herself in whatever they might be doing; but Marie was always gay and cheerful with her, and no suspicion of the melancholy that was gradually creeping over her was awakened in Marguerite's heart.
It was upon old Bastienne that the change in the climate began to tell most plainly. The faithful old woman had borne uncomplainingly the hardships which her young mistresses could endure without a murmur; but her old bones had suffered from the exposure to the night dews and damp sea air; with the chill winds of the Autumn she was attacked with rheumatism, and lost the activity and energy which had been of such good service to them all. She suffered much; her moans often kept the two girls awake at night; and even Claude, who had built himself a tiny lean-to on the sheltered side of the "castle," could hear her complainings.
With the first frost of October the leaves took on their short-lived autumn gorgeousness, only to wither and fall, leaving the little island destitute of even its scanty appearance of vegetation. Winter, with its desolating breath, was settling down upon them; and when the first early snows camefloating through the air, they realised that long dreary months of suffering lay before them.
But one of them, at least, was to be spared the terrible ordeal.
On a calm, mild day, when the soft, blue haze of October filled the air with its deceptive beauty, Marie had gone to one of her favourite haunts along the cliffs—a lofty point of rock, which they had laughingly christened her "look-out." As she sat there, gazing down at the misty, sleeping sea below, her eye caught the gleam of a cluster of late-blooming wild flowers, the last of the season, on a point of the rock beneath her. A fancy seized her to get it for Marguerite. She reached over, and had it almost in her hand, when a slight movement behind her caused her to start a little, lose her balance, and fall headlong over the beetling cliff. She fell upon the stones below, and lay motionless, while the little fox, whose rustling approach among the dry leaves had caused her hurried movement, stood on the edge above, peering down with astonished curiosity at the silent figure of his merry playmate. The auks and puffins, scared from their rocky perches, plunged into the ocean, and rose at a little distance to look for the reason of the disturbance. Seeing no further cause for alarm they gained courage and gradually returned, and their quaint, ungainly forms stood in wondering groups about the motionless girl, who lay with one arm stretched in the cold water of the bay.
In the meantime her friends were awaiting Marie's return for the mid-day meal. But she came not; and they finally went in search of her,calling her name along the shore, but receiving no answer save the wild cry of the gull as it circled above them, and the weird laugh of the great diver calling to his answering mate. They knew her favourite point of rock, and on reaching it found the little fox still standing on the edge, and looking down. As they approached, it bounded suddenly off, and disappeared among the bushes.
His heart sinking with a vague dread of fresh misfortune, Claude went to the edge of the cliff, and looked over. He saw at once what had happened. The stones at the top were loose and freshly disturbed, and the low shrubs which fringed the rock were crushed and broken. Hastily drawing Marguerite back, and bidding her return at once to the hut and warn Bastienne to get restoratives and blankets in readiness, he hurried round to the base of the cliff. The tide was rapidly rising, and the distance was considerable. With all his haste he was only just in time. As he rounded the projecting spur that formed one side of the bay, the water, which had at first covered only one of Marie's arms, reached her hair, and in a few minutes more must have risen over her face. De Pontbriand drew the bruised and senseless form higher up the rocks, and eagerly felt her heart. There was a faint, slow beating that told him a feeble life still fluttered there. Raising her in his arms he bore her with all possible speed to the hut, where every means that their resources and skill could suggest to restore her to consciousness was tried, and, as it seemed, in vain. At last, as the short October afternoon faded out in a purple haze, and the sad, grey evening closedabout them, Marie opened her eyes. She was quite conscious, and seemed to suffer no pain. But the end was evidently close at hand. She spoke but little, and lay very quietly, with Marguerite's hand in hers. Just before it grew too dark for them to see her, she beckoned to Claude to approach, and as he stood beside her couch, she laid Marguerite's hand in his, smiled peacefully as she felt the strong grasp close above it, and, closing her eyes, with head turned a little aside, she passed away so tranquilly that they could not have told when her last breath was drawn.
When they realised that she was indeed dead, their grief had no words. Old Bastienne, at the foot of the couch, recited the prayers for the dead in a voice choked with sobs, and with the tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks; but Marguerite knelt in silence, dry-eyed, beside the body of her friend, gazing into the quiet, calm face. At last Claude raised her, and, tenderly wrapping a cloak round her, led her from the hut, and down to the beach. They stood in silence, trembling in each other's arms, their hearts too full for speech or tears, while the chill October wind whistled in from the sea, and the gulls and curlews flew screaming about their heads.