Part 31 (2/2)

Loisel had a wife, you see;” explained Madame, with emphasis.

”The money?” raising his brows, curiously.

”Oh, it was a little M. Bellestre left,” and a fine bit of scorn crossed Madame's face. ”There was some gossip over it. She has too much liberty, but there is no one to say a word, and she goes to the heretic chapel since Father Rameau has been up North. He comes back this autumn. Father Gilbert is very good, but he is more for the new people and the home for the sisters. There are some to come from the Ursuline convent at Montreal, I hear.”

Marsac was not interested in the nuns. After a modic.u.m of judicious praise to Madame, he departed, promising to come in again.

When a week had elapsed and he had not seen Jeanne he was more than piqued, he was angry. Then he bethought himself of the Protestant chapel. Pani could not bring herself to enter it, but Jeanne had found a pleasing and devoted American woman who came in every Sunday and they met at a point convenient to both. Pani walked to this trysting spot for her darling.

And now she was fairly caught. Louis Marsac bowed in the politest fas.h.i.+on and wished her good day in a friendly tone, ranging himself beside her. Jeanne's color came and went, and she put her hands in a clasp instead of letting them hang down at her side as they had a moment before. Her answers were brief, a simple ”yes” or ”no,” or ”I do not know, Monsieur.”

And Pani was not there! Jeanne bade her friend a gentle good day and then holding her head very straight walked on.

”Mam'selle,” he began in his softest voice, though his heart was raging, ”are we no longer friends, when we used to have such merry times under the old oak? I have remembered you; I have said times without number, 'When I go back to La Belle Detroit, my first duty will be to hunt up little Jeanne Angelot. If she is married I shall return with a heavy heart.' But she is not--”

”Monsieur, if thy light-heartedness depends on that alone, thou mayst go back cheerily enough,” she replied formally. ”I think I am one of St.

Catharine's maids and in the other world will spend my time combing her hair. Thou mayst come and go many times, perhaps, and find me Jeanne Angelot still.”

”Have you forsworn marriage? For a handsome girl hardly misses a lover.”

He was trying to keep his temper in the face of such a plain denial.

”I am not for marriage,” she returned briefly.

”You are young to be so resolute.”

”Let us not discuss the matter;” and now her tone was haughty, forbidding.

”A father would have authority to change your mind, or a guardian.”

”But I have no father, you know.”

He nodded doubtfully. She felt rather than saw the incredulous half smile. Had he some plot in hand? Why should she distrust him so?

”Jeanne, we were such friends in that old time. I have carried you in my arms when you were a light, soft burthen. I have held you up to catch some branch where you could swing like a cat. I have hunted the woods with you for flowers and berries and nuts, and been obedient to your pretty whims because I loved you. I love you still. I want you for my wife. Jeanne, you shall have silks and laces, and golden gauds and servants to wait on you--”

”I told you, Monsieur, I was not for marriage,” she interrupted in the coldest of tones.

”Every woman is, if you woo her long enough and strong enough.”

He tried very earnestly to keep the sneer out of his voice, but hardly succeeded. His face flushed, his eyes shone with a fierce light. Have this girl he would. She should see who was master.

”Monsieur, that is ungentlemanly.”

”_Monsieur!_ In the old time, it was Louis.”

”We have outgrown the old times,” carelessly.

”I have not. Nor my love.”

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