The Rocks of Valpré | Page 5

were so clear, so
blue, so confidingly merry. There was a rare sweetness about her, a
spontaneous charm irresistibly winning. She loved everybody without
effort, as naturally as she loved life, with an absence of
self-consciousness so entire that perhaps it was not surprising that she
was loved in return.
"You are much stronger than you look, preux chevalier," she remarked
presently. "But wouldn't you like to set me down while you go and
fetch my sandals? They are over there on the rocks. It would be a pity
for them to get washed away, and I might manage to walk with them
on."
He had brought her safely over the most difficult part of the way. He
seated her at once upon a flat rock, and stooped to assure himself as to
the success of his bandage.

"It gives you not so much of pain, no?" he asked.
"It scarcely hurts at all," she assured him. "You will be quick now,
won't you, because I ought to be getting back. If you see Cinders, you
might bring him too."
"Cinders?" he questioned, pausing.
"My dog," she explained. "But he doesn't talk French, so I don't
suppose he will follow you."
He received the information with a smile. "But I speak English,
mademoiselle," he protested for the second time.
"Ah yes, you do--after a fashion," admitted Chris. "But I don't suppose
Cinders would understand it. It's not very English English."
He raised his shoulders in a gesture that was purely French. "La belle
dame sans merci!" he murmured ruefully. "Bien! I will do my
possible."
"Splendid!" laughed Chris. "No one could do more."
She watched him go with eyes that sparkled with merriment. The trim,
slight figure was quite good to look upon. He went bounding over the
rocks with the sure-footed grace of a chamois.
"I wonder who he really is," said Chris, "and where he comes from."

CHAPTER II
DESTINY
Over the rocks went the stranger with the careless speed of youth,
humming to himself in a soft tenor, his brown face turned to the sun.
The pleasant smile was still upon it. He had the look of one in whose
eyes all things are good.

Ahead of him gleamed the towel with the sandals upon it, sandals that
might have been fashioned for fairy feet. He quickened his pace at sight
of them. But she was charming, this English child! He had never before
seen anyone quite so dainty. And of a courage unique in one so young!
He was nearing the sandals now, but the sun was in his eyes, and he
saw only the towel spread like a tablecloth over the rock. He sprang
lightly down on to a heap of shingle, and reached for it, still humming
the chanson that the little English girl had somehow put into his head.
The next instant a deep growl arrested him, and sharply he drew back.
There was something more than a pair of sandals on the towel above
him, something that crouched in an attitude of tense hostility, daring
him to approach. It was only a small creature that thus challenged him,
only a weird black terrier of doubtful extraction, but he bristled from
end to end with animosity. Quite plainly he regarded the sandals as his
responsibility. With glaring eyes and gleaming teeth he crouched,
prepared to defend them.
The young Frenchman's discomfiture was but momentary. In an instant
he had taken in the situation and the humour of it.
"But it is the good Cinders!" he said aloud, and extended a fearless
hand. "So, my friend, so! The little mistress waits."
Cinders' growl became a snarl. He sucked up his breath in furious
protest, threatening murder. But the stranger's hand was not withdrawn.
On the contrary it advanced upon him with the utmost deliberation till
Cinders was compelled to jerk backwards to avoid it.
So jerking, he missed his footing as his mistress had before him, lost
his balance, and rolled, cursing, clinging, and clambering, over the edge
of the rock.
Had the Frenchman laughed at that moment he would have made an
enemy for life. But most fortunately he did not regard an antagonist's
downfall as a fit subject for mirth. In fact, being of a chivalrous turn, he
grabbed at the luckless Cinders, clutched his collar, and dragged him

up again. And--perhaps it was the generosity of the action, perhaps only
its obvious fearlessness--he won Cinders' heart from that instant. His
hostility merged into sudden ardent friendship. He set his paws on the
young man's chest, and licked his face.
Thenceforth he was more than welcome to sandals and towel and even
the effusive Cinders himself, who leaped around him barking in high
delight, and accompanied him with giddy circlings upon his return
journey.