And I remembered the dream of her I had before I ever saw her, on that first night after I came down to Normandy, when Amedee’s talk of “Madame d’Armand” had brought her into my thoughts. I remembered that I had dreamed of finding her statue, but it was veiled and I could not uncover it. And to-night it seemed to me that the veil had lifted, and the statue was a figure of Mercy in the beautiful likeness of Louise Harman. Then Keredec was wrong, optimist as he was, since a will such as hers could save him she loved, even from his own acts.
“And when you come to Monticelli’s first style—” Miss Elliott’s voice rose a little, and I caught the sound of a new thrill vibrating in it—“you find a hundred others of his epoch doing it quite as well, not a BIT of a bit less commonplace—”
She broke off suddenly, and looking up, as I had fifty times in the last twenty minutes, I saw that a light shone from Keredec’s window.
“I dare say they ARE commonplace,” I remarked, rising. “But now, if you will permit me, I’ll offer you my escort back to Quesnay.”
I went into my room, put on my cap, lit a lantern, and returned with it to the veranda. “If you are ready?” I said.
“Oh, quite,” she answered, and we crossed the garden as far as the steps.
Mr. Percy signified his approval.
“Gunna see the little lady home, are you?” he said graciously. “I was THINKIN’ it was about time, m’self!”
The salon door of the “Grand Suite” opened, above me, and at the sound, the youth started, springing back to see what it portended, but I ran quickly up the steps. Keredec stood in the doorway, bare-headed and in his shirt-sleeves; in one hand he held a travelling-bag, which he immediately gave me, setting his other for a second upon my shoulder.
“Thank you, my good, good friend,” he said with an emotion in his big voice which made me glad of what I was doing. He went back into the room, closing the door, and I descended the steps as rapidly as I had run up them. Without pausing, I started for the rear of the courtyard, Miss Elliott accompanying me.