Part 9 (1/2)

It was a still, beautiful evening in summer. Perrin Corbet was free till ten o'clock, when he would go fis.h.i.+ng with Jean Cartier. It was very lonely now in the cottage, for Perrin's mother was dead, and he spent very little time at home. This special evening he decided to make a pilgrimage to the churchyard of St. Pierre du Bois where his mother was buried. Her grave was close to the church in a place of long gra.s.s and overshadowing trees. As Perrin entered the churchyard he saw that a woman was bending over the grave: he knew at once who it was, and his heart beat quicker. It was so long since he had seen her and spoken with her!

When he was quite close, she turned round, and he saw that she had been crying. On the grave she had put a rude cross of _immortelles_.

”Ellenor,” he said quietly, ”I did not expect to see you. I thought you were yet in Sark.”

”I came back this morning by the early cutter. I was longing to get back home.”

”And we have been longing for you to come back! It is kind of you to put flowers here. Ah, it is always a woman who thinks of those things! We are such stupid creatures, we men! She who lies here so often said that to me. I miss her more and more, Ellenor.”

”Poor Perrin!” she said softly, and for one long moment she looked into the faithful face bent over his mother's grave; then she turned away with a bitter sigh. Perrin lifted his head; not a thing she did, not a movement, not a sigh of hers ever escaped him.

”What is it?” he asked, in his low, kind voice, ”are you fretting still?”

”No, no, but it seems I can't forget quickly all that has pa.s.sed.”

She covered her face with her hands and shuddered. Perrin touched her arm.

”Come and sit in the church porch,” he said, ”and tell me all about it.”

Still with her hands covering her face, she let him lead her to the old stone seat in the grey porch. Presently, with an evident effort, her hands fell from her face, and she clasped them in her lap.

”I am selfish,” she said, ”never once have I told you how sorry I was to hear of your mother's death, it seems I could only think of myself.”

”I have understood all the time. I knew you would be sad for me.

But, of course, you could not help thinking most of yourself and of what you have lost.”