Michel and Angele | Page 4

She could scarce have counted the number of times she climbed the
great hill like a fortress at the lift of the little bay of Rozel, and from the
Nez du Guet scanned the sea for a sail and the sky for fair weather.
When her eyes were not thus busy, they were searching the lee of the
hillside round for yellow lilies, and the valley below for the campion,
the daffodil, and the thousand pretty ferns growing in profusion there.
Every night she looked out to see that her signal fire was lit upon the
Nez du Guet, and she never went to bed without taking one last look
over the sea, in the restless inveterate hope which at once sustained her
and devoured her.
But the longest waiting must end. It came on the evening of the very
day that the Seigneur of Rozel went to Angele's father and bluntly told
him he was ready to forego all Norman-Jersey prejudice against the
French and the Huguenot religion, and take Angele to wife without
penny or estate.
In reply to the Seigneur, Monsieur Aubert said that he was conscious of
an honour, and referred Monsieur to his daughter, who must answer for
herself; but he must tell Monsieur of Rozel that Monsieur's religion
would, in his own sight, be a high bar to the union. To that the Seigneur
said that no religion that he had could be a bar to anything at all; and so
long as the young lady could manage her household, drive a good
bargain with the craftsmen and hucksters, and have the handsomest
face and manners in the Channel Islands, he'd ask no more; and she
might pray for him and his salvation without let or hindrance.
The Seigneur found the young lady in a little retreat among the rocks,
called by the natives La Chaire. Here she sat sewing upon some coarse
linen for a poor fisherwoman's babe when the Seigneur came near. She
heard the scrunch of his heels upon the gravel, the clank of his sword
upon the rocks, and looked up with a flush, her needle poised; for none
should know of her presence in this place save her father. When she
saw who was her visitor, she rose. After greeting and compliment, none

too finely put, but more generous than fitted with Jersey parsimony, the
gentleman of Rozel came at once to the point.
"My name is none too bad," said he--"Raoul Lempriere, of the
Lemprieres that have been here since Rollo ruled in Normandy. My
estate is none worse than any in the whole islands; I have more horses
and dogs than any gentleman of my acres; and I am more in favour at
court than De Carteret of St. Ouen's. I am the Queen's butler, and I am
the first that royal favour granted to set up three dove-cotes, one by St.
Aubin's, one by St. Helier's, and one at Rozel: and--and," he added,
with a lumbering attempt at humour--"and, on my oath, I'll set up
another dove-cote with out my sovereign's favour, with your leave
alone. By our Lady, I do love that colour in yon cheek! Just such a
colour had my mother when she snatched from the head of my cousin
of Carteret's milk-maid wife the bonnet of a lady of quality and bade
her get to her heifers. God's beauty! but 'tis a colour of red primroses in
thy cheeks and blue campions in thine eyes. Come, I warrant I can
deepen that colour"--he bowed low--"Madame of Rozel, if it be not too
soon!"
The girl listened to this cheerful and loquacious proposal and courtship
all in one, ending with the premature bestowal of a title, in mingled
anger, amusement, disdain, and apprehension. Her heart fluttered, then
stood still, then flew up in her throat, then grew terribly hot and hurt
her, so that she pressed her hand to her bosom as though that might
ease it. By the time he had finished, drawn himself up, and struck his
foot upon the ground in burly emphasis of his devoted statements, the
girl had sufficiently recovered to answer him composedly, and with a
little glint of demure humour in her eyes. She loved another man; she
did not care so much as a spark for this happy, swearing,
swashbuckling gentleman; yet she saw he had meant to do her honour.
He had treated her as courteously as was in him to do; he chose her out
from all the ladies of his acquaintance to make her an honest offer of
his hand--he had said nothing about his heart; he would, should she
marry him, throw her scraps of good-humour, bearish tenderness, drink
to her health among his fellows, and respect and admire her--even exalt
her