“Do you really think so?” inquired the delighted priest.
“Why, of course. One has only to look at you, and see that plain enough,” said Jaqueline; and then, perceiving the sort of talk that was most likely to be agreeable to her companion, she continued to compliment him upon his good looks till they arrived at the ruins.
The old lady was absent; but Father Dunstan said he knew her well, and that she would be very angry if he did not make himself quite at home. So he prevailed upon Jaqueline to consider herself as his guest till their hostess’s return; and bestirring himself with the alacrity of a youth, he had put up the horses, spread the table-cloth, lighted the fire, and was beating up an omelet, before Jaqueline had finished her simple toilet. When she expressed her wish to take the culinary department, he gently, but firmly and respectfully, requested her to take a seat, and let him have his own way, which she accordingly did, marvelling exceedingly at his dexterity and accurate knowledge of the contents of the old lady’s larder, and the spot in which everything was kept.
In due time they sate down to dine, and his attention to her during the meal was excessive, and therefore tiresome to one unused to form and ceremony. So, when it was finished, she reminded him of his old habit of taking a nap in the afternoon, and recommended him to do so on the present occasion, hinting, at the same time, her hope that, when he had so refreshed himself, he would be ready to escort her to the Cock and Bottle. But at this last suggestion he shook his head, and said something about the horses being tired, and then yawned and took a glass of wine, and then yawned again, and so on till he fell asleep.
“I think I’ll go and lie down, and do the same,” thought Jaqueline, “for I’m dreadfully fatigued with all this riding”—and she betook herself to the little dormitory in which she had been installed by the old lady on the preceding night; and after gaping once or twice, and wondering when she should get to the Cock and Bottle, she lost sight of her cares—and the next question she had occasion to ask herself was, “How long have I been asleep?”
It is a question which, after fatigue, we have all occasionally found it very difficult to answer. Jaqueline rubbed her eyes, and repeated it aloud, and greatly was she astonished to receive a reply in the well-known tones of Father Dunstan, who was seated by her bedside. “You have slept soundly, my dear. It is now morning. I have kept watch over you, as I hope always to be permitted to do hereafter. Heigho!”
“La! Father Dunstan!” exclaimed Jaqueline, shrinking under the coverlet—“surely this is very improper conduct, although you are such a very old man.”
“No, no,” cried the priest, “I am not an old man. I feel that I am not. You will be very happy with me, and without you I cannot live. I have not slept a wink all night for thinking of you, and have made up my mind. It is of no use for you to refuse, as I’ve got you here in the middle of the forest. So agree at once to go with me to England, where priests are allowed to marry, and you will never repent it. Beautiful, beautiful creature as you are, I shall never cease to adore you!”
“You horrid, wicked old wretch!” shrieked Jaqueline, “get along out of the room immediately, or, if you don’t, mind I have not taken off my clothes: I’ll get up and give your old bones such a shaking—I will. Eh! What! You’d hold me down would you? Let go the clothes, will you! If I do but get my hands loose, I’ll scratch your eyes out, I will, you ugly old—old—old monster! What! You’d smother me, would you? Help, help, murder!” and making a violent effort as she shrieked, she felt herself suddenly released from the incumbent pressure.
“Oh, he’s gone, is he!” she exclaimed, breathing hard after the struggle, and looking round the room, “better for him, or else I’d have—but bless me! I am undressed, after all! How very strange that I don’t recollect——”