Part 70 (1/2)
”No, and I can't explain,” I replied, thinking of Kelly Eyre. ”But Sylvia Elven is running a fearful risk here. Mornac knows her record.
Buckhurst would betray her in a moment if he thought it might save his own skin. She ought to leave before the _Fer-de-Lance_ sights the semaph.o.r.e and reads the signal to land in force.”
”Then you'll have to tell her,” he said, gloomily.
”I suppose so,” I replied, not at all pleased. For the prospect of humiliating her, of proving to this woman that I was not as stupid as she believed me, gave me no pleasure. Rather was I sorry for her, sorry for the truly pitiable condition in which she must now find herself.
As we reached the gates of Trecourt, dusty and tired from our moorland tramp, I turned and looked back. My signal was still set; the white arm of the semaph.o.r.e glistened like silver against a brilliant sky of sapphire. Seaward I could see no sign of the _Fer-de-Lance_.
”The guns I heard at sea must have been fired from the German cruiser _Augusta_,” I suggested to Speed. ”She's been hovering off the coast, catching French merchant craft. I wish to goodness the _Fer-de-Lance_ would come in and give her a drubbing.”
”Oh, rubbis.h.!.+” he said. ”What the deuce do we care?”
”It's human to take sides in this war, isn't it?” I insisted.
”Considering the fas.h.i.+on in which France has treated us individually, it seems to me that we may as well take the German side,” he said.
”Are you going to?” I asked.
He hesitated. ”Oh, hang it all, no! There's something about France that holds us poor devils--I don't know what. Barring England, she's the only human nation in the whole snarling pack. Here's to her--d.a.m.n her impudence! If she wants me she can have me--empire, kingdom, or republic. Vive anything--as long as it's French!”
I was laughing when we entered the court; Jacqueline, her big, furry cat in her arms, came to the door and greeted Speed with:
”You have been away a very long time, and the thorns are all out of my arms and my legs, and I have been desiring to see you. Come into the house and read--shall we?”
Speed turned to me with an explanatory smile. ”I've been reading the 'Idyls' aloud to her in English,” he said, rather shyly. ”She seems to like them; it's the n.o.ble music that attracts her; she can't understand ten words.”
”I can understand nearly twenty,” she said, flus.h.i.+ng painfully.
Speed, who had no thought of hurting her, colored up, too.
”You don't comprehend, little one,” he said, quickly. ”It was in praise, not in blame, that I spoke.”
”I knew it--I am silly,” she said, with quick tears trembling in her eyes. ”You know I adore you, Speed. Forgive me.”
She turned away into the house, saying that she would get the book.
”Look here, Speed,” I said, troubled, ”Jacqueline is very much like the traditional maid of romance, which I never believed existed--all unspoiled, frankly human, innocently daring, utterly ignorant of convention. She's only a child now, but another year or two will bring something else to her.”
”Don't you suppose I've thought of that?” he said, frowning.
”I hope you have.”
”Well, I have. When I find enough to do to keep soul and body friendly I'm going to send her to school, if that old ruffian, her father, allows it.”
”I think he will,” I said, gravely; ”but after that?”
”After what?”
”After she's educated and--unhappy?”
”She isn't any too happy now,” he retorted.