Marie | Page 9

on the little stool before his fire, he found
himself still in the street, still looking down into that lovely childish
face that lifted itself so innocently to his, still smitten to the heart by the
beauty of it, and by the fear that he saw in it of his own stern aspect. He
had never looked upon any woman before. He had been proud of
it,--proud of his strength and cleverness, that needed no meddlesome
female creature coming in between him and his business, between him
and his religion. He had not let his hair and beard grow, knowing
nothing of such practices, but in heart he had been a Nazarite from his
youth up,--serving God in his harsh, unloving way; loving God, as he
thought; certainly loving nothing else, if it were not the dumb creatures,
to whom he was always kind and just. And now--what had happened to

him? He asked himself the question sternly, sitting there before the
cheerful blaze, yet neither seeing nor feeling it. The answer seemed to
cry itself in his ears, to write itself before his eyes in letters of fire. The
thing had happened that happens in the story books, that really comes
to pass once in a hundred years, they say. He had seen the one woman
in the world that he wanted for his own, to have and to hold, to love
and to cherish. She was a stranger, a vagabond, trading in iniquity, and
gaining her bread by the corruption of souls of men and children; and
he loved her, he longed for her, and the world meant nothing to him
henceforth unless he could have her. He put the thought away from him
like a snake, but it came back and curled round his heart, and made him
cold and then hot and then cold again. Was he not a professing
Christian, bound by the strictest ties? Yes! How she looked, standing
there with the children about her, the little slender figure swaying to
and fro to the music, the pretty head bent down so lovingly, the dark
eyes looking here and there, bright and shy, like those of a wild
creature so gentle in its nature that it knew no fear. But he had taught
her fear! yes, he saw it grow under his eyes, just as the love grew in his
own heart at the same moment.
Love! what sort of word was that for him to be using, even in his mind?
To-morrow she would be gone, this wandering fiddler, and all this
would be forgotten in a day, for he had the new cattle to see to, and a
hundred things of importance.
But was anything else of importance save just this one girl? and if he
should let her go on her way, out into the world again, to certain
perdition, would not the guilt be partly his? He, who saw and knew the
perils and pitfalls, might he not snatch this child from the fire and save
her soul alive?--No! he would begone, as soon as morning came, and
take this sinful body of his away from temptation.
How soon would Abby get through her morning work, so that he might
with some fair pretext go to the house to see how the stranger had slept,
and how she had fared? It would be cowardly to drop the burden on
Abby's shoulders, she only a woman like the rest of them, even if she
had somewhat more sense.

So Jacques De Arthenay sat by his fire till it was cold and dead, a
miserable and a wrathful man; and he too slept little that night.
But Marie slept long and peacefully in Sister Lizzie's bed, and looked
so pretty in her sleep that Abby came three times to wake her, and three
times went away again, unable to spoil so perfect a picture. At last,
however, the dark eyes opened of their own accord, and Marie began to
chirp and twitter, like a bird at daybreak in its nest; only instead of
daybreak, it was eight o'clock in the morning, a most shocking hour for
anybody to be getting up. But Abby had been in the habit of spoiling
her sister, who had a theory that she was never able to do anything
early in the morning, and so it was much more considerate for her to
stay in bed and keep out of Abby's way. This is a comfortable theory.
"I suppose you've been an early riser, though?" said Abby, as she
poured the coffee, looking meanwhile approvingly at the figure of her
guest, neatly attired in a pink and white print gown, which fitted her in
a truly astonishing manner, proving, Abby thought in her simple way,
that it had really