Michel and Angele | Page 6

was a good friend lost.
"It's not because of the French soldier that was with Montgomery at
Domfront?--I've heard that story. But he's gone to heaven, and 'tis vain
crying for last year's breath," he added, with proud philosophy.
"He is not dead. And if he were," she added, "do you think, Monsieur,
that we should find it easier to cross the gulf between us?"
"Tut, tut, that bugbear Love!" he said shortly. "And so you'd lose a
good friend for a dead lover? I' faith, I'd befriend thee well if thou wert
my wife, Ma'm'selle."
"It is hard for those who need friends to lose them," she answered
sadly.
The sorrow of her position crept in upon her and filled her eyes with
tears. She turned them to the sea-instinctively towards that point on the
shore where she thought it likely Michel might be; as though by

looking she might find comfort and support in this hard hour.
Even as she gazed into the soft afternoon light she could see, far over, a
little sail standing out towards the Ecrehos. Not once in six months
might the coast of France be seen so clearly. One might almost have
noted people walking on the beach. This was no good token, for when
that coast may be seen with great distinctness a storm follows hard after.
The girl knew this; and though she could not know that this was Michel
de la Foret's boat, the possibility fixed itself in her mind. She quickly
scanned the horizon. Yes, there in the north-west was gathering a dark-
blue haze, hanging like small filmy curtains in the sky.
The Seigneur of Rozel presently broke the silence so awkward for him.
He had seen the tears in her eyes, and though he could not guess the
cause, he vaguely thought it might be due to his announcement that she
had lost a friend. He was magnanimous at once, and he meant what he
said and would stand by it through thick and thin.
"Well, well, I'll be thy everlasting friend if not thy husband," he said
with ornate generosity. "Cheer thy heart, lady."
With a sudden impulse she seized his hand and kissed it, and, turning,
ran swiftly down the rocks towards her home.
He stood and looked after her, then, dumfounded, at the hand she had
kissed.
"Blood of my heart!" he said, and shook his head in utter amazement.
Then he turned and looked out upon the Channel. He saw the little boat
Angele had descried making from France. Glancing at the sky, "What
fools come there!" he said anxiously.
They were Michel de la Foret and Buonespoir the pirate, in a black-
bellied cutter with red sails.

CHAPTER III

For weeks De la Foret and Buonespoir had lain in hiding at St. Brieuc.
At last Buonespoir declared all was ready once again. He had secured
for the Camisard the passport and clothes of a priest who had but just
died at Granville. Once again they made the attempt to reach English
soil.
Standing out from Carteret on the Belle Suzanne, they steered for the
light upon the Marmotier Rocks of the Ecrehos, which Angele had paid
a fisherman to keep going every night. This light had caused the French
and English frigates some uneasiness, and they had patrolled the
Channel from Cap de la Hague to the Bay of St. Brieuc with a vigilance
worthy of a larger cause. One fine day an English frigate anchored off
the Ecrehos, and the fisherman was seized. He, poor man, swore that he
kept the light burning to guide his brother fishermen to and fro between
Boulay Bay and the Ecrehos. The captain of the frigate tried severities;
but the fisherman stuck to his tale, and the light burned on as before-- a
lantern stuck upon a pole. One day, with a telescope, Buonespoir had
seen the exact position of the staff supporting the light, and had
mapped out his course accordingly. He would head straight for the
beacon and pass between the Marmotier and the Maitre Ile, where is a
narrow channel for a boat drawing only a few feet of water. Unless he
made this, he must run south and skirt the Ecriviere Rock and bank,
where the streams setting over the sandy ridges make a confusing
perilous sea to mariners in bad weather. Else, he must sail north
between the Ecrehos and the Dirouilles, in the channel called Etoc, a
tortuous and dangerous passage save in good weather, and then safe
only to the mariner who knows the floor of that strait like his own hand.
De la Foret was wholly in the hands of Buonespoir, for he knew
nothing of these waters and coasts; also he was a soldier and no sailor.