At the words a gray-haired lady supporting herself on a cane entered. In a few moments all explanations were made, and I received from her a welcome scarcely less warm than that of her daughter, but with the difference, that it was only given after she had carefully read the letter of the Marquis de Montcalm and its enclosure.
“Your own presence would command my hospitality in any case, madame; but these letters, and especially that of le père Jean, change a duty into a pleasure; it is much to have gained the friendship of such a man. I fear, though, you will have to put up with our poor company for some time, as my son has but left for his post in Acadie, and I do not look for his return until the snows come; but we will do all we can to make you happy until such time as you can leave to join your friends.”
Nothing could be more charming than her address, even though it bore a trace of condescendence; but that was merely the reflection of an older school of manners, to which I had been well accustomed in Lady Jane.
As soon as we had settled these matters, I agreed with Gabriel that he should go on to Quebec, there to obtain some necessaries of which I stood in much need, as did poor Lucy.
“You do not expect to find shops there, surely!” laughed mademoiselle. “But my friend Mme, de Lanaudière will gladly undertake the buying of the material, and we will make such shift for the fitting as is possible here.”
So we were installed as guests, and on the morrow Gabriel was despatched on his important errand; before he returned we had taken our places as members of the little household.
Mlle. de Sarennes—Angélique, as she insisted on my calling her—would not consent to my helping in the fields, so Lucy and I took charge in the house, where Lucy did marvels in the kitchen, even to eliciting approbation from Mme. de Sarennes, which Angélique assured us was praise indeed, for her mother was a housekeeper of the school which did not acknowledge that excellence of performance called for anything beyond a refraining from criticism. How could I be other than content? I was surrounded by a daily round of interest, almost of affection, and, most precious of all, by a gentle courtesy which accepted me as a guest without question or curiosity as to my past. Le père Jean had answered for me, and that was enough.
When Gabriel returned I paid him for his services, though it was only when I had assured the honest fellow I was amply able to do so that he consented to receive anything from me. When he was leaving me he charged me with great earnestness:
“Madame, should you need me at any time, either by day or night, all you have to do is to light the beacon. If by night, let it burn brightly; if by day, do as you saw le père Jean, and go on repeating it, until you see the answering smoke from the Island, or my sail.”