Perhaps an hour passed, Jeffray scrutinizing Madame Michael’s merchandise with the prejudiced eye of a man in love. These pretty stuffs had no significance beyond Bess’s beauty. They were interesting by reason of the honor they might receive in being suffered to clothe the body of the one woman in Christendom. A crowd of small boys and two or three busybodies had gathered round the coach, gaping at Peter Gladden, who remained at his post, chin in air, like a Roman sentinel whom nothing could disturb. Madame Michael’s girl-apprentices were giggling and chattering in the room above. Jeffray went to the semicircular window and looked out. He could see across High Street, down a narrow alley a distant view of glimmering green downs and blue-throated corn-fields ablaze with poppies.
There was the sound of a door opening, a rustle of silks. Jeffray, turning with a quick smile, saw Bess standing in the middle of the room, wearing a summer gown cut low at the bosom, and made of some gauzy blue stuff dusted with green trefoils. A white satin petticoat showed below it, looped with blue silk. She had a band of black velvet about her throat, black mittens reaching nearly to her bare elbows, and one of Madame Michael’s adorable hats upon her head. Madame had even rearranged Bess’s hair, the black and gleaming splendor of it contrasting with the brown and pearly neck. Bess stood looking at her lover, blushing very deeply, her eyes fixed questioningly on his. As for Jeffray, he looked at her, and could not look enough, so stately and adorable did she appear in all these pretty trappings. The wild, sleek beauty of Pevensel seemed to glorify these fine clothes in a way that would have set many a round-backed and short-legged countess weeping.
The little Frenchwoman glided forward and clapped her hands. She had been watching the pair with her black, twinkling eyes, and enjoying the charm of it with sympathetic vivacity.
“Monsieur is pleased? Yes, to be sure, never have I had such a figure to show my gowns off. It is superb, superb. This gown, sir, and the others—were made but two weeks ago for a fine lady who disappointed me at the eleventh hour. Mademoiselle has a finer figure; they suit her to perfection.”
Jeffray and Bess were smiling at each other, the girl’s face radiant and suffused with a tender happiness. Nothing is more sweet to a woman than to be admired by the eyes of the man she loves.
“It is perfection,” said Jeffray, gravely.
“Ah, monsieur, you are very good. And these hats, and the other gowns that madam has chosen, where may I send them? There is some work for the needle. The evening shall see them finished.”
Jeffray gave the address of the Star Inn in High Street, took out his purse, and desired madame to present her bill. It proved a long one, and took several notes. But what of that? Jeffray was as glad to give as the little French lady was glad to receive. She courtesied Bess and Jeffray to her door, giving them all manner of good-wishes, and promising to send the gowns and hats to the Star before dusk. Peter Gladden’s face was a unique study when he set eyes on Bess in all her splendor. He bowed low as he opened the door of the coach, and received Jeffray’s orders to drive to the best goldsmith’s in the town.
Thus Bess and her lover travelled from shop to shop. An enamelled watch, bracelets, rings, a gold chain, pins, and brooches were taken from the goldsmith’s treasury. Shoes of fine leather and of satin were forthcoming elsewhere. Trunks were purchased at a saddler’s near the castle-gate. Then came more delicate and mysterious matters. Jeffray thrust his purse into Bess’s hand, and remained in the coach while she went a little shyly into Mr. Wace’s mercery and linen shop. The secrets of silken hose and of chemisettes and such gear were beyond the prerogatives of man. Bess was blushing very prettily when Peter Gladden and Mr. Wace attended her back across the pavement to the coach. Jeffray gave her his hand. She looked in his eyes, reddened, and laughed alluringly.
The coach rolled along the High Street and stopped before the Star Inn, glimpses of down country striking in between the red-roofed houses. Peter Gladden had taken care to have his master’s advent properly prepared for. The landlord came out in person to do the honor of his house. He bowed, rubbed his hands together, set himself and his whole establishment at Jeffray’s service. A private parlor had been set apart for him. Madam was to occupy the best bedroom, and the chief chambermaid should wait on her. Yes. The gentleman desired to take passage from Newhaven on the morrow? Many travellers honored the Star at Lewes on their way to France, and the landlord made it his business to obtain trustworthy news as to the shipping. The weather was perfect, and a brig was sailing for France the very next day. There would be no difficulty about a passage.