Part 6 (1/2)
After three days of minute search, the band of men gave up in despair; and Jean and Perrin went back to the routine of daily work in dogged and patient despair. The fisherman wondered if Le Mierre had heard the news, shut up in Lihou Island, where his wife lay very ill of small-pox, which was raging in different parts of Guernsey.
Finally Jean unburdened his mind to his friend and talked with him of Ellenor's infatuation for Dominic. Would it be that she had drowned herself to be rid of the torture of her life?
Perrin was haunted perpetually by this idea: it was with him by day and by night. He went about like a man who was half asleep, and people began to complain that he did not even nod to his acquaintances when he met them. So the Christmas season pa.s.sed and it was the last day of the Old Year. The cold and the snow disappeared, and the weather was mild and calm as Perrin rowed homewards about four o'clock in the afternoon. He had been to pull up his lobster pots which had been put down not far from Lihou island. Buried in thought, he did not notice how close he was rowing to the reef of rocks off the north of the island, till a loud cry startled him and he saw that someone was signalling to him from a jutting rock close to his boat. It was a woman. It was Ellenor Cartier.
Mad with joy, Perrin brought his boat into a tiny creek, moored it and scrambled up the rocks to the girl's side.
”Don't come near me!” she cried, ”for the sake of your mother! I am minding Blaisette. She is ill, dreadfully, dreadfully ill. If she gets well, the doctor says it will be a miracle. But even _he_ is afraid to come much. Since Christmas Eve he hasn't been here. It was then I came, just after his visit.”
She had gradually edged away from Perrin, and now placed herself behind a boulder. Over its edge her pale face looked sadly at her lover.
”Do you know,” she went on, ”perhaps you won't believe me, but till I saw you just now in your boat, I didn't even feel sorry I left you on Christmas Eve. Are you very angry with me?”
”I couldn't be angry with you, my darling! Even now, it seems I can't believe you're alive. We found your white roses, all wet and spoilt, in a hedge close to Rocquaine Bay; and, ah, how we feared, your father and me ... But, Ellenor, tell me, how is it you came here? And how was it you were on the rocks just when my boat pa.s.sed.”
”I was on the rocks to try to see if I could let one of you men know we want food, and to tell the doctor he _must_ come again. I've given her all the medicine he left. It would be no use for me to go over to Rocquaine at low tide, because not a soul would help me; all would run away from me.”
”Set your heart at rest, my Ellenor. I'll go for all you want. But, quick, tell me, how is it you came here?”
She buried her face in her hands, and broke into bitter weeping. And Perrin could not clasp her in his arms. Presently she spoke, in a low voice, full of anguish.
”It was like this. On Christmas Eve, when I was coming back from Saint Pierre Port, I met Monsieur Le Mierre. He stopped me and wanted me to go back to the town with him. I had nearly decided to do as he wished. It was no use, I couldn't say 'No.' There was long I hadn't seen him; and he was so handsome and tall. And, and, I believe he loves me true, whatever happens! But, just as I said I'd go back with him, I thought of Blaisette, her that I hated and yet her that I pitied. And I asked him who was with her on lonely Lihou Isle. Him, he only laughed, and said she was all right; he'd be back before midnight. But there wasn't a soul in Guernsey would go to mind her, for love or money, so it was no use bothering, he said, and again he laughed. And then I was frightened. He seemed like the devil, so cruel about his poor wife. And, all of a sudden, I thought only of her, and I told him _I'd_ go to mind her, not for love or money, but because I was _so_ sorry, oh, so sorry, for her!”
”My brave girl! My own sweetheart!” Perrin cried, stretching out eloquent hands to the sad, pale face.
”Listen, there's more yet to tell! I don't know how I got back to Saint Pierre du Bois, it was snowing fast and yet faster; but, at last I was to L'Eree. I forgot all about everything except poor Blaisette. I threw away the roses for my wedding bonnet. I got to the beach before the tide was quite down. The sea was black. The sky was black. Just here and there was a dreadful line of white, where the waves were breaking over the rocks. And on Lihou Isle not a light was to be seen. I s.h.i.+vered when I thought of Blaisette in the dark, ill with small-pox of a Christmas Eve.”
Perrin ground his teeth.
”d.a.m.n that brute! He's not fit for h.e.l.l itself.”
She drew a long breath.
”Listen, Perrin, I've not finished! I began to cross the rocks and found myself on the causeway at last, but I was deep in water. The horrible waves, like black walls, was all around me. The wind pushed me on every side. The snow was falling thicker and thicker. But at last, at last, I was to Lihou. I climbed the beach, ran across the gra.s.s, and, pus.h.i.+ng open a door in the wall of the garden--we all know the farm well, eh, Perrin? I went up the steps to the house. I opened the door. The house was like ice. In the kitchen was a poor little bit of fire. I made it up; and then I tried to get courage to go upstairs.... Well, somehow I was in the bedroom. I had taken a candle with me. I can't tell you how she looked. It would make you wish you could kill _him_. She looked at me with her poor glazed eyes. Her lips were black with fever. She cried, in a voice like a thread, for water, water!”
”G.o.d in heaven! and you love this brute yet?”
She hid her face for a moment.
”Hush, I've not finished! I did my best for her, poor Blaisette. For a minute she knew me and she tried to thank me; and very soon she fell asleep.”
”And he came back at midnight?”
”No, not till the middle of Christmas Day; and then he was half drunk. Since then he has hardly been near the house; but he has not left Lihou. He has been about the stables, and come into the kitchen to get his meals once or twice; and he is drinking, drinking all the time. I can see he is afraid of the small-pox, and afraid of death.
And yet, I believe, I am sure, he loves me yet; only I will not speak to him nor look at him, because of _her_, lying upstairs all unconscious.”
Perrin stared at her, aghast. Was it possible a woman could love, actually love, the devil! Bah, it seemed so!
”Look here,” he cried, almost in a rude voice, ”he loves you so much that he lets you run the risk of getting the small-pox! Very well!