The Pomp of the Lavilettes | Page 5

to that Magon Farcinelle--bah!"
"Magon was at the Laval College in Quebec; he has ten thousand
dollars; he is the best judge of horses in the province, and he's a
Member of Parliament to boot," said the miller, puffing. "He is a great
man almost."
"He's no better judge of horses than M'sieu' Nic Lavilette--eh, that's a
bully bad scamp, my Gatineau!" responded Baby. "He's the best in the
family. He is a grand sport; yes. It's he that fetched Ma'm'selle Sophie
to the hitching-post. Voila, he can wind them all round his finger!"
Baby looked round to see if any one was near; then he drew the miller's
head down by pulling at his collar, and whispered in his ear:
"He's hot foot for the Rebellion; that's one good thing," he said. "If he
wipes out the English--"
"Hold your tongue," nervously interrupted Gatineau, for just then two
or three loiterers of the parish came shambling around the corner of the
mill.
Baby stopped short, and as they greeted the newcomers their attention
was drawn to the stage-coach from St. Croix coming over the little hill

near by.
"Here's M'sieu' Nic now--and who's with him?" said Baby, stepping
about nervously in his excitement. "I knew there was something up.
M'sieu' Nic's been writing long letters from Montreal."
Baby's look suggested that he knew more than his position as
postmaster entitled him to know; but the furtive droop at the corner of
his eyes showed also that his secretiveness was equal to his cowardice.
On the seat, beside the driver of the coach, was Nicolas Lavilette,
black-haired, brown-eyed, athletic, reckless-looking, with a cast in his
left eye, which gave him a look of drollery, in keeping with his buoyant,
daring nature. Beside him was a figure much more noticeable and
unusual.
Lean, dark-featured, with keen-glancing eyes, and a body with a faculty
for finding corners of ease; waving hair, streaked with grey, black
moustache, and a hectic flush on the cheeks, lending to the world-wise
face a wistful look-that, with near six feet of height, was the picture of
his friend.
"Who is it?" asked the miller, with bulging eyes. "An English
nobleman," answered Baby. "How do you know?" asked Gatineau.
"How do I know you are a fat, cheating miller?" replied the postmaster,
with cunning care and a touch of malice. Malice was the only power
Baby knew.
CHAPTER II
In the matter of power, Baby, the inquisitive postmaster and keeper of
the bridge, was unlike the new arrival in Bonaventure. The abilities of
the Honourable Tom Ferrol lay in a splendid plausibility, a spontaneous
blarney. He could no more help being spendthrift of his affections and
his morals than of his money, and many a time he had wished that his
money was as inexhaustible as his emotions.

In point of morals, any of the Lavilettes presented a finer average than
their new guest, who had come to give their feasting distinction, and
what more time was to show. Indeed, the Hon. Mr. Ferrol had no
morals to speak of, and very little honour. He was the penniless son of
an Irish peer, who was himself well-nigh penniless; and he and his
sister, whose path of life at home was not easy after her marriageable
years had passed, drew from the consols the small sum of money their
mother had left them, and sailed away for New York.
Six months of life there, with varying fortune in which a well-to-do girl
in society gave him a promise of marriage, and then Ferrol found
himself jilted for a baronet, who owned a line of steamships and could
give the ambitious lady a title. In his sick heart he had spoken profanely
of the future Lady of Title, had bade her good-bye with a smile and an
agreeable piece of wit, and had gone home to his flat and sobbed like a
schoolboy; for, as much as he could love anybody, he loved this girl.
He and the faithful sister vanished from New York and appeared in
Quebec, where they were made welcome in Government House, at the
citadel, and among all who cared to know the weight of an inherited
title. For a time, the fact that he had little or no money did not temper
their hospitality with niggardliness or caution. But their cheery and
witty guest began to take more wine than was good for him or
comfortable for others; his bills at the clubs remained unpaid, his
landlord harried him, his tailors pursued him; and then he borrowed
cheerfully and well.
However, there came an end to this, and to the acceptance of his I O
U's. Following the instincts of his Irish ancestors, he then leagued with
a professional smuggler, and began to deal in contraband liquors