Part 75 (1/2)

Gilliatt raised his voice:

”Boatman! wait there for us. We shall return soon. You asked me, Miss Lethierry, how I came to be here. The answer is very simple. I walked behind you. You are twenty-one. In this country, when persons are of age, and depend only on themselves, they may be married immediately. Let us take the path along the water-side. It is pa.s.sable; the tide will not rise here till noon. But lose no time. Come with me.”

Deruchette and Caudray seemed to consult each other by a glance. They were standing close together motionless. They were intoxicated with joy.

There are strange hesitations sometimes on the edge of the abyss of happiness. They understood, as it were, without understanding.

”His name is Gilliatt,” whispered Deruchette.

Gilliatt interrupted them with a sort of tone of authority.

”What do you linger for?” he asked. ”I tell you to follow me.”

”Whither?” asked Caudray.

”There!”

And Gilliatt pointed with his finger towards the spire of the church.

Gilliatt walked on before, and they followed him. His step was firm; but they walked unsteadily.

As they approached the church, an expression dawned upon those two pure and beautiful countenances, which was soon to become a smile. The approach to the church lighted them up. In the hollow eyes of Gilliatt there was the darkness of night. The beholder might have imagined that he saw a spectre leading two souls to Paradise.

Caudray and Deruchette scarcely took count of what had happened. The interposition of this man was like the branch clutched at by the drowning. They followed their guide with the docility of despair, leaning on the first comer. Those who feel themselves near death easily accept the accident which seems to save. Deruchette, more ignorant of life, was more confident. Caudray was thoughtful. Deruchette was of age, it was true. The English formalities of marriage are simple, especially in primitive parts, where the clergyman has almost a discretionary power; but would the Dean consent to celebrate the marriage without even inquiring whether the uncle consented? This was the question.

Nevertheless, they could learn. In any case there would be but a delay.

But what was this man? and if it was really he whom Lethierry the night before had declared should be his son-in-law, what could be the meaning of his actions? The very obstacle itself had become a providence.

Caudray yielded; but his yielding was only the rapid and tacit a.s.sent of a man who feels himself saved from despair.

The pathway was uneven, and sometimes wet and difficult to pa.s.s.

Caudray, absorbed in thought, did not observe the occasional pools of water or the heaps of s.h.i.+ngle. But from time to time Gilliatt turned and said to him, ”Take heed of those stones. Give her your hand.”

III

THE FORETHOUGHT OF SELF-SACRIFICE

It struck ten as they entered the church.

By reason of the early hour, and also on account of the desertion of the town that day, the church was empty.

At the farther end, however, near the table which in the reformed church fulfils the place of the altar, there were three persons. They were the Dean, his evangelist, and the registrar. The Dean, who was the Reverend Jaquemin Herode, was seated; the evangelist and the registrar stood beside him.

A book was open upon the table.

Beside him, upon a credence-table, was another book. It was the parish register, and also open; and an attentive eye might have remarked a page on which was some writing, of which the ink was not yet dry. By the side of the register were a pen and a writing-desk.

The Reverend Jaquemin Herode rose on perceiving Caudray.