The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

"You did, monsieur," was the reply. "I had a mind to see what was going on, for I knew I would get back in time, and without being missed. It was I who put the rascals up to break into the cellars. The priest tried to draw them away after him to search the old chapel, but he did not know his men so well as I did. Then, when I saw them well engaged, I took to my heels and reached the pier before you, not having so far to go, or knowing the way better. But where were you when the floors fell? I trembled for you then."

"We were safe enough, and not far off," was the reply. "Was any one much hurt?"

"Yes; Michaud will die, and a good riddance too. There were some broken heads and bones; I don't know how many. But, monsieur, what could have been in the chapel which handled the priest so terribly. I found him in the court blinded in both eyes and his face torn to pieces as by a wild beast, and he said something sprang at him in the old chapel. Could it have been that devil of a white chevalier, think you? Could a ghost handle a man like that?"

"I do not know whether or no ghosts can scratch," answered Andrew gravely; "but the one who attacked the priest has been a passenger with us."

And he raised my cloak and showed Blanchon, who had abandoned the attempt to keep himself dry, and lay a wet and sulky heap in my lap.

Pierre's face fell.

"A white cat," said he. "If I had known we had a white cat on board, I should have given up in despair a dozen times. However, all is well that ends well," he added, brightening up; "and here we come sure enough."

"And yonder is your cousin's house, Vevette," said Andrew, pointing to a comfortable-looking mansion not far-away. "We shall soon be under a roof once more."

The family of the fisherman whose boat had preceded us were gathered at the landing to see us come in, and loud were their exclamations of wonder and pity as my mother and myself were assisted from our cramped position in the bottom of the boat to the landing-place.

By one of the boys Andrew sent a message up to the house, and in what seemed a wonderfully short time we were surrounded and conveyed to the mansion Andrew had pointed out, by a troop of excited boys and girls, under the leadership of an elderly considerate manservant. Here we were warmly welcomed, kissed, fed with hot soup and mulled wine, and finally put to bed in the most fluffy of feather-beds, my mother and myself in adjoining rooms. Maman was still in the same curiously passive state, but not unconscious.