Monseigneur the governor found her in the late afternoon, still sitting in the window embrasure, the large, lofty room in darkness, save for the fitful glow of the fire which was burning low in the monumental hearth. The patter of the rain against the window panes made a weird, melancholy sound, which alone broke the silence that hung upon the place with an eerie sense of desolation. Monseigneur shuddered as he entered.
'B-r-r-r!' he exclaimed. 'My dear Jacqueline! I had no thought that you were moping here all alone—and in the dark, too!—or I would have been here sooner to cheer your spirits with my good news.'
'You and your good news are right welcome, Monseigneur,' responded Jacqueline with a pathetic effort at gaiety. 'I was out in the garden most of the day,' she continued composedly, 'and was resting for awhile in the gathering dusk, as this awful weather hath made it impossible to go out again.'
'Gathering dusk, forsooth!' he retorted. 'Send for your women, Madame, and order them to bring in the candles. Light! We want more light, laughter and joy at this hour! I would I could light a bonfire, to turn the night into day!'
He was obviously nervy and excited, paced up and down the room in a state of nerve-tension, very unlike his usual dignified self. Jacqueline, a little puzzled, obeyed him promptly. She rang the bell and ordered Nicolle to send in the candles, and while the women busied themselves about the room, disposing candelabra upon the tables and consols, she watched her guardian keenly. He certainly appeared strangely excited, and now and then he darted quick, inquiring glances upon her, and when she met those glances, he smiled as if in triumph.
'Let us sit by the fire, my dear,' he said genially, after he had dismissed Nicolle and the women with an impatient gesture. 'I came to see you alone and without ceremony, because I wished for the selfish pleasure of imparting my good news to you myself.'
She sat down in the tall chair beside the fire, and Monseigneur sat opposite to her. She had on a dress of dark-coloured satin, upon the shiny surface of which the flickering firelight drew quaint and glowing arabesques. She rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and leaned her head against her hand, thus keeping her delicate face in shadow, lest Monseigneur should note the pallor of her cheeks and the tear-stains around her eyes. But otherwise she was quite composed, was able to smile too at his eagerness and obvious embarrassment.
It was his turn to study her keenly now, and he did so with evident pleasure. Not so very many years ago he, too, had been a young gallant, favoured by fortune and not flint-hearted either where women were concerned. He had buried two wives, and felt none the worse for that, and still ready to turn a compliment to a pretty woman, and to give her the full measure of his admiration. He would have been less than a man now, if he had withstood the charm of the pretty picture which his ward presented, in the harmonious setting of her high-backed chair, and with the crimson glow of the fire-light turning her fair hair to living gold.
'Put down your hand, Jacqueline,' he said, 'so that I may see your pretty face.'
'My head aches sadly, Monseigneur,' she rejoined with a pathetic little sigh, 'and mine eyes are heavy. 'Tis but vanity that causes me to hold my hand before my face.'