Elliot started, but quickly recovering himself, said, with an insolent smile, "Always thinking of marriage, these dear creatures. Ah, ah! madame, sits the wind in that quarter? You thought the poor Scots gentleman might be caught by the rosy cheeks of a Jersey farm girl. Pas si bête."
Rose pointed to the garden archway. "If you do not relieve me of your presence this very instant," she said, pale and panting, "my farm labourers shall drive you out with cudgels."
"It shall not need, madame, to pay me this last attention, so worthy of your habits. 'Au revoir, madame!'" And with a profound and mocking reverence the wanton cavalier slowly retreated, leaving Rose to sink, half fainting, into a stone seat by the house door.
Elliot strode off, smarting with the sting of his well-merited humiliation. A brief moment of reflection was enough to show its probable origin. It was evident that the secret of his marriage had found its way to the manor, where the court he had been paying to Marguerite had consequently ceased to be regarded as a harmless gallantry, and come to be taken for insult, as indeed it deserved. Nor was it difficult to go on to guess the channel of this information. Le Gallais was Marguerite's acknowledged lover, the person who would benefit by the removal of a fascinating dog like Elliot—a formidable rival, as he flattered himself such as he must be to a bumpkin officer of militia. How Le Gallais could have learned the fact of his having a wife in France might be a harder question, but it was one that was not material. Revenge would be equally sweet, whether that were answered or not.
Full of these thoughts the groom of the chamber stalked on to S. Helier. On reaching the quay, he came to "The White Ship"—a tavern frequented alike by the officers of the garrison and by those of the island militia. The parlour was full of men, some in uniform, some in plain clothes, smoking, drinking, playing cards—a scene of Teniers. One of the first faces on which his eye fell was that of Le Gallais, who sprang from his chair on Elliot's entrance, but was restrained by his neighbours, and sat down watching the intruder's movements with glaring eye. Striding up to the hearth, and standing with his back to it, the cavalier broke into a forced laugh.
"Strange company you keep, gentlemen. I spy one among you whom you had better put forth without delay."
"Whom mean you?" asked the patch-wearing Querto. "'May I not take mine ease in mine inn?' as the fat fellow says in the play. May not a plain soldier choose his own company?"
"A soldier is a gentleman, and should keep company with gentlemen," answered the flushed youth. "Mr. Le Gallais is no mate for cavaliers. I say to his face that he is a cropeared rebel, a busybody, and a pestilent knave."
"I appeal to you, Major Querto," said Le Gallais, roused from his temporary pause, and turning to the major, whom indeed he had brought to the place, and for whose refreshment he was providing.
"Appeal me no appeals," said the Major, with a truculent look. "No man shall appeal to Dick Querto till he is purged of such epitaphs."