Michel and Angele

Chapter 2

Meanwhile Angele had gone through many phases of alternate hope and

despair. She knew that Montgomery the Camisard was dead, and a rumour,

carried by refugees, reached her that De la Foret had been with him to

the end. To this was presently added the word that De la Foret had been

beheaded. But one day she learned that the Comtesse de Montgomery was

sheltered by the Governor, Sir Hugh Pawlett, her kinsman, at Mont Orgueil

Castle. Thither she went in fear from her refuge at Rozel, and was

admitted to the Comtesse. There she learned the joyful truth that De la

Foret had not been slain, and was in hiding on the coast of Normandy.

The long waiting was a sore trial, yet laughter was often upon her lips

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, and laughed in

response, they knew not why, to the quick smiling of her eyes. She even

learned to speak their unmusical but friendly Norman-Jersey French. There

were at least a half-dozen fishermen who, for her, would have gone at

night straight to the Witches' Rock in St. Clement's Bay--and this was

bravery unmatched.

It came to be known along the coast that "Ma'm'selle" was waiting for a

lover fleeing from the French coast. This gave her fresh interest in the

eyes of the serfs and sailors and their women folk, who at first were not

inclined towards the Huguenot maiden, partly because she was French, and

partly because she was not a Catholic. But even these, when they saw that

she never talked religiously, that she was fast learning to speak their

own homely patois, and that in the sickness of their children she was

untiring in her kindness, forgave the austerity of the gloomy-browed old

man her father, who spoke to them distantly, or never spoke at all; and

her position was secure. Then, upon the other hand, the gentry of the

manors, seeing the friendship grow between her and the Comtesse de

Montgomery at Mont Orgueil Castle, made courteous advances towards her

father, and towards herself through him.

She could scarce have counted the number of times she climbed the great

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 for fair weather. When

her eyes were not thus busy, they were searching the lee of the hillside

round for yellow lilies, and the valley below for the campion, the

daffodil, and the thousand pretty ferns growing in profusion there. Every

night she looked out to see that her signal fire was lit upon the Nez du

Guet, and she never went to bed 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 very day

that the Seigneur of Rozel went to Angele's father and bluntly told him

he was ready to forego all Norman-Jersey prejudice against the French and

the Huguenot religion, and take Angele to wife without penny or estate.

In reply to the Seigneur, Monsieur Aubert said that he was conscious of

an honour, and referred Monsieur to his daughter, who must answer for

herself; but he must tell Monsieur of Rozel that Monsieur's religion

would, in his own sight, be a high bar to the union. To that the Seigneur

said that no religion that he had could be a bar to anything at all; and

so long as the young lady could manage her household, drive a good

bargain with the craftsmen and hucksters, and have the handsomest face

and manners in the Channel Islands, he'd ask no more; and she might pray

for him and his salvation without let or hindrance.

The Seigneur found the young lady in a little retreat among the rocks,

called by the natives La Chaire. Here she sat sewing upon some coarse

linen for a poor fisherwoman's babe when the Seigneur came near. She

heard the scrunch of his heels upon the gravel, the clank of his sword

upon the rocks, and looked up with a flush, her needle poised; for none

should know of her presence in this place save her father. When she saw

who was her visitor, she rose. After greeting and compliment, none too

finely put, but more generous than fitted with Jersey parsimony, the

gentleman of Rozel came at once to the point.

"My name is none too bad," said he--"Raoul Lempriere, of the Lemprieres

that have been here since Rollo ruled in Normandy. My estate is none

worse than any in the whole islands; I have more horses and dogs than any

gentleman of my acres; and I am more in favour at court than De Carteret

of St. Ouen's. I am the Queen's butler, and I am the first that royal

favour granted to set up three dove-cotes, one by St. Aubin's, one by St.

Helier's, and one at Rozel: and--and," he added, with a lumbering attempt

at humour--"and, on my oath, I'll set up another dove-cote with out my

sovereign's favour, with your leave alone. By our Lady, I do love that

colour in yon cheek! Just such a colour had my mother when she snatched

from the head of my cousin of Carteret's milk-maid wife the bonnet of a

lady of quality and bade her get to her heifers. God's beauty! but 'tis a

colour of red primroses in thy cheeks and blue campions in thine eyes.

Come, I warrant I can deepen that colour"--he bowed low--"Madame of

Rozel, if it be not too soon!"

The girl listened to this cheerful and loquacious proposal and courtship

all in one, ending with the premature bestowal of a title, in mingled

anger, amusement, disdain, and apprehension. Her heart fluttered, then

stood still, then flew up in her throat, then grew terribly hot and hurt

her, so that she pressed her hand to her bosom as though that might ease

it. By the time he had finished, drawn himself up, and struck his foot

upon the ground in burly emphasis of his devoted statements, the girl had

sufficiently recovered to answer him composedly, and with a little glint

of demure humour in her eyes. She loved another man; she did not care so

much as a spark for this happy, swearing, swashbuckling gentleman; yet

she saw he had meant to do her honour. He had treated her as courteously

as was in him to do; he chose her out from all the ladies of his

acquaintance to make her an honest offer of his hand--he had said nothing

about his heart; he would, should she marry him, throw her scraps of

good-humour, bearish tenderness, drink to her health among his fellows,

and respect and admire her--even exalt her almost to the rank of a man in

his own eyes; and he had the tolerance of the open-hearted and

open-handed man. All these things were as much a compliment to her as

though she were not a despised Huguenot, an exiled lady of no fortune.

She looked at him a moment with an almost solemn intensity, so that he

shifted his ground uneasily, but at once smiled encouragingly, to relieve

her embarrassment at the unexpected honour done her. She had remained

standing; now, as he made a step towards her, she sank down upon the

seat, and waved him back courteously.

"A moment, Monsieur of Rozel," she ventured. "Did my father send you to

me?"

He inclined his head and smiled again.

"Did you say to him what you have said to me?" she asked, not quite

without a touch of malice.

"I left out about the colour in the cheek," he answered, with a smirk at

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 almost carried

off his feet by his own brilliance. She became serious at once--so

quickly that he was ill prepared for it, and could do little but stare

and pluck at the tassel of his sword; for he was embarrassed before this

maiden, who changed as quickly as the currents change under the brow of

the Couperon Cliff, behind which lay his manor-house of Rozel.

"I have visited at your manor, Monsieur of Rozel. I have seen the state

in which you live, your retainers, your men-at-arms, your farming-folk,

and your sailormen. I know how your Queen receives you; how your honour

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, "your men-servants

and your maid-servants, your fields of corn, your orchards, and your

larder. I have sometimes broken the Commandment and coveted them and

envied you."

"Break the Commandment again, for the last time," he cried, delighted and

boisterous. "Let us not waste words, lady. Let's kiss and have it over."

Her eyes flashed. "I coveted them and envied you; but then, I am but a

vain girl at times, and vanity is easier to me than humbleness."

"Blood of man, but I cannot understand so various a creature!" he broke

in, again puzzled.

"There is a little chapel in the dell beside your manor, Monsieur. If you

will go there, and get upon your knees, and pray till the candles no more

burn, and the Popish images crumble in their places, you will yet 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 harm comes to

the Mistress of Rozel."

He was out of his bearings and impatient. Religion to him was a dull

recreation invented chiefly for women. She became plain enough now. "'Tis

no images nor religion that stands between us," she answered, "though

they might well do so. It is that I do not love you, Monsieur of Rozel."

His face, which had slowly clouded, suddenly cleared. "Love! Love!" He

laughed good-humouredly. "Love comes, I'm told, with marriage. But we can

do well enough without fugling on that pipe. Come, come, dost think I'm

not a proper man and a gentleman? Dost think I'll not use thee well and

'fend thee, Huguenot though thou art, 'gainst trouble or fret or any

man's persecutions--be he my Lord Bishop, my Lord Chancellor, or King of

France, or any other?"

She came a step closer to him, even as though she would lay a hand upon

his arm. "I believe that you would do all that in you lay," she answered

steadily. "Yours is a rough wooing, but it is honest--"

"Rough! Rough!" he protested, for he thought he had behaved like some

Adonis. Was it not ten years only since he had been at Court!

"Be assured, Monsieur, that I know how to prize the man who speaks after

the light given him. I know that you are a brave and valorous gentleman.

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 of Rozel."

He was dumfounded. Now he comprehended the plain fact that he had been

declined.

"You send me packing!" he blurted out, getting red in the face.

"Ah, no! Say it is my misfortune that I cannot give myself the great

honour," she said; in her tone a little disdainful dryness, a little

pity, a little feeling that here was a good friend lost.

"It's not because of the French soldier that was with Montgomery at

Domfront?--I've heard that story. But he's gone to heaven, and 'tis vain

crying for last year's breath," he added, 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 a good

friend for a dead lover? I' faith, I'd befriend thee well if thou 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 eyes with

tears. She turned them to the sea-instinctively towards that point on the

shore where she thought it likely Michel might be; as though by looking

she might find comfort and support in this hard hour.

Even as she gazed into the soft afternoon light she could see, far over,

a little sail standing out towards the Ecrehos. Not once in six months

might the coast of France be seen so clearly. One might almost have noted

people walking on the beach. This was no good token, for when that coast

may be seen with great distinctness a storm follows hard after. The girl

knew this; and though she could not know that this was Michel de la

Foret's boat, the possibility fixed itself in her mind. She quickly

scanned the horizon. Yes, there in the north-west was gathering a

dark-blue haze, hanging like small filmy curtains 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 the cause,

he vaguely thought it might be due to his announcement that she had lost

a friend. He was magnanimous at once, and he meant what he said and would

stand by it through thick and thin.

"Well, well, I'll be thy everlasting friend if not thy husband," he said

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 had

kissed.

"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 little boat

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 a

black-bellied cutter with red sails.