The Last Hope Read online

  CHAPTER XIII

  WITHIN THE GATES

  The great bell hanging inside the gates of Gemosac was silent for twodays after the return of Juliette de Gemosac from her fever-strickenconvent school, at Saintes.

  But on the third day, soon after nightfall, it rang once more, breakingsuddenly in on the silence of the shadowy courts and gardens, bidding thefrogs in the tank be still with a soft, clear voice, only compassed bythe artificers who worked in days when silver was little accounted of inthe forging of a bell.

  It was soon after eight o'clock, and darkness had not long covered theland and sent the workers home. There was no moon. Indeed, the summons tothe gate, coming so soon after nightfall, seemed to suggest the arrivalof a traveller, who had not deemed it expedient to pass through thewinding streets of Gemosac by daylight.

  The castle lies on a height, sufficiently removed from the little town totemper the stir of its streets to a pleasant and unobtrusive evidence ofneighbourhood. Had the traveller come in a carriage, the sound of itswheels would certainly have been heard; and nearer at hand, the tramp ofhorses on the hollow of the old drawbridge, not raised these hundredyears, must have heralded the summons of the bell. But none of thesesounds had warned Juliette de Gemosac, who sat alone in the little whiteroom upstairs, nor Marie and her husband, dumb and worn by the day'stoil, who awaited bedtime on a stone seat by the stable door.

  Juliette, standing at the open window, heard Jean stir himself, andshuffle, in his slippers, toward the gate.

  "It is some one who comes on foot," she heard Marie say. "Somebeggar--the roads are full of them. See that he gets no farther than thegate."

  She heard Jean draw back the bolts and answer gruffly, in a few words,through the interstice of a grudging door, what seemed to be inquiriesmade in a voice that was not the voice of a peasant. Marie rose and wentto the gate. In a few minutes they returned, and Juliette drew back fromthe window, for they were accompanied by the new-comer, whose boots madea sharper, clearer sound on the cobble-stones.

  "Yes," Juliette heard him explain, "I am an Englishman, but I come fromMonsieur de Gemosac, for all that. And since Mademoiselle is here, I mustsee her. It was by chance that I heard, on the road, that there is feverat Saintes, and that she had returned home. I was on my way to Saintes tosee her and give her my news of her father."

  "But what news?" asked Marie, and the answer was lost as the speakerspassed into the doorway, the new-comer evidently leading the way, thepeasant and his wife following without protest, and with that instinctiveobedience to unconscious command which will survive all the iconoclasm ofa hundred revolutions.

  There followed a tramping on the stairs and a half-suppressed laugh asthe new-comer stumbled upward. Marie opened the door slowly.

  "It is a gentleman," she announced, "who does not give his name."

  Juliette de Gemosac was standing at the far side of the table, with thelamp throwing its full light upon her. She was dressed in white, with ablue ribbon at her waist and wrists. Another ribbon of the same colourtied back her hair, which was of a bright brown, with curls that caughtthe light in a score of tendrils above her ears. No finished coquettecould have planned a prettier surprise than that which awaited LooBarebone, as he made Marie stand aside, and came, hat in hand, into theroom.

  He paused for an instant, breathless, before Juliette, who stood, with alittle smile of composed surprise parting her lips. This child, freshfrom the quiet of a convent-school, was in no wise taken aback nor at aloss how to act. She did not speak, but stood with head erect, notungracious, looking at him with clear brown eyes, awaiting hisexplanation. And Loo Barebone, all untaught, who had never spoken to aFrench lady in his life, came forward with an assurance and a readinesswhich must have lain dormant in his blood, awaiting the magic of thismoment.

  "Since my name would convey nothing to Mademoiselle," he said, with a bowwhich he had assuredly not learnt in Farlingford, "it was useless tomention it. But it is at the disposal of Mademoiselle, nevertheless. Itis an English name--Barebone. I am the Englishman who has been fortunateenough to engage the interest of your father, who journeyed to England tofind me--and found me."

  He broke off with a laugh, spreading out his arms to show himself, as itwere, and ask indulgence.

  "I have a heritage, it appears, in France," he went on, "but know nothingof it, yet. For the weather has been bad and our voyage a stormy one. Iwas to have been told during the journey, but we had no time for that.And I know no more than you, mademoiselle."

  Juliette had changed colour, and her cheeks, which were usually of a mostdelicate pink, were suddenly quite white. She did not touch upon theknowledge to which he referred, but went past it to its object.

  "You do not speak like an Englishman," she said. "For I know one or two.One came to the school at Saintes. He was a famous English prelate, andhe had the manner--well, of a tree. And when he spoke, it was what onewould expect of a tree, if it suddenly had speech. But you--you are notlike that."

  Loo Barebone laughed with an easy gaiety, which seemed infectious, thoughMarie did not join in it, but stood scowling in the doorway.

  "Yes," he said, "you have described them exactly. I know a hundred whoare like great trees. Many are so, but they are kind and still liketrees--the English, when you know them, mademoiselle."

  "They?" she said, with her prettily arched eyebrows raised high.

  "We, I mean," he answered, quickly, taking her meaning in a flash. "Ialmost forgot that I was an Englishman. It is my heritage, perhaps, thatmakes me forget--or yourself. It is so easy and natural to consider one'sself a Frenchman--and so pleasant."

  Marie shuffled with her feet and made a movement of impatience, as if toremind them that they were still far from the business in hand and weremerely talking of themselves, which is the beginning of all things--ormay be the beginning of the inevitable end.

  "But I forgot," said Barebone, at once. "And it is getting late. Yourfather has had a slight misfortune. He has sprained his ankle. He is onboard my ship, the ship of which I am--I have been--an officer, lying atanchor in the river near here, off the village of Mortagne. I came fromMortagne at your father's request, with certain messages, for yourself,mademoiselle, and for Marie--if Madame is Marie."

  "Yes," replied the grim voice in the doorway. "Madame is Marie."

  Loo had turned toward her. It seemed his happy fate to be able to disarmantagonism at the first pass. He looked at Marie and smiled; and slowly,unwillingly, her grim face relaxed.

  "Well," he said, "you are not to expect Monsieur le Marquis to-night, noryet, for some time to come. For he will go on to Bordeaux, where he canobtain skilled treatment for his injured ankle, and remain there until hecan put his foot to the ground. He is comfortable enough on board theship, which will proceed up the river to-morrow morning to Bordeaux.Monsieur le Marquis also told me to set your mind at rest on anotherpoint. He was to have brought with him a guest--"

  Loo paused and bowed to Marie, with a gay grace.

  "A humble one. But I am not to come to Gemosac just now. I am going,instead, with Monsieur Dormer Colville, to stay at Royan with Mrs. St.Pierre Lawrence. It is, I hope, a pleasure deferred. I cannot, itappears, show myself in Bordeaux at present, and I quit the shipto-night. It is some question of myself and my heritage in France, whichI do not understand."

  "Is that so?" said Marie. "One can hardly believe it."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Oh, nothing," replied Marie, looking at his face with a close scrutiny,as if it were familiar to her.

  "And that is all that I had to tell you, Madame Marie," concludedBarebone.

  And, strangely enough, Marie smiled at him as he turned away, notunkindly.

  "To you, mademoiselle," he went on, turning again to Juliette, whose handwas at her hair, for she had been taken by surprise, "my message issimpler. Monsieur, your father, will be glad to have your society atBordeaux, while he stays there, if that is true which the Gironde pilottold him--of fever at Sainte
s, and the hurried dispersal of the schools."

  "It is true enough, monsieur," answered Juliette, in her low-pitchedvoice of the south, and with a light of anticipation in her eye; for itwas dull enough at Gemosac, all alone in this empty chateau. "But how amI to reach Bordeaux?"

  "Your father did not specify the route or method. He seemed to leave thatto you, mademoiselle. He seemed to have an entire faith in your judgment,and that is why I was so surprised when I saw you. I thought--well, Ifigured to myself that you were older, you understand."

  He broke off with a laugh and a deprecatory gesture of the hand, asif he had more in his mind but did not want to put it into words. Hismeaning was clear enough in his eyes, but Juliette was fresh from aconvent-school, where they seek earnestly to teach a woman not to be awoman.

  "One may be young, and still have understanding, monsieur," she said,with the composed little smile on her demure lips, which must only havebeen the composure of complete innocence: almost a monopoly of children,though some women move through life without losing it.

  "Yes," answered Loo, looking into her eyes. "So it appears. So, how willyou go to Bordeaux? How does one go from Gemosac to Bordeaux?"

  "By carriage to Mortagne, where a boat is always to be obtained. It is ashort journey, if the tide is favourable," broke in Marie, who waspractical before she was polite.

  "Then," said Loo, as quick as thought, "drive back with me now toMortagne. I have left my horse in the town, my boat at the pier atMortagne. It is an hour's drive. In an hour and a half you will be onboard 'The Last Hope,' at anchor in the river. There is accommodation onboard for both you and Madame; for I, alas! Leave the ship to-night withMonsieur Colville, and thus vacate two cabins."

  Juliette reflected for a moment, but she did not consult, even by aglance, Marie; who, in truth, appeared to expect no such confidences, butawaited the decision with a grim and grudging servitude which was asdeeply pressed in upon her soul as was the habit of command in the soulof a de Gemosac.

  "Yes," said Juliette, at length, "that will be best. It is, of course,important that my father should reach Bordeaux as soon as possible."

  "He will be there at midday to-morrow, if you will come with me now,"answered Loo, and his gay eyes said "Come!" as clearly as his lips,though Juliette could not, of course, be expected to read such signals.

  The affair was soon settled, and Jean ordered to put the horse into thehigh, old-fashioned carriage still in use at the chateau. For Juliettede Gemosac seemed to be an illustration of the fact, known to manymuch-tried parents, that one is never too young to know one's mind.

  "There is a thunder-storm coming from the sea," was Jean's only comment.

  There was some delay in starting; for Marie had to change her own clothesas well as pack her young mistress's simple trunks. But the time did nothang heavily on the hands of the two waiting in the little drawing-room,and Marie turned an uneasy glance toward the open door more than once atthe sound of their laughter.

  Barebone was riding a horse hired in the village of Mortagne, and quittedthe chateau first, on foot, saying that the carriage must necessarilytravel quicker than he, as his horse was tired. The night was dark, anddarkest to the west, where lightning danced in and out among heavy cloudsover the sea.

  As in all lands that have been torn hither and thither by long wars, thepeasants of Guienne learnt, long ago, the wisdom of dwelling together inclosely built villages, making a long journey to their fields orvineyards every day. In times past, Gemosac had been a walled town,dominated, as usual, by the almost impregnable castle.

  Barebone rode on, alone, through the deserted vineyards, of which thescent, like that of a vinery in colder lands, was heavy and damp. Theroad runs straight, from point to point, and there was no chance ofmissing the way or losing his companions. He was more concerned withwatching the clouds, which were rising in dark towers against the westernsky. He had noted that others were watching them, also, standing at theirdoors in every street. It was the period of thunder and hailstorms--thedeadly foe of the vine.

  At length Barebone pulled up and waited; for he could hear the sound ofwheels behind him, and noted that it was not increasing in loudness.

  "Can you not go faster?" he shouted to Jean, when, at length, thecarriage approached.

  Jean made no answer, but lashed his horse and pointed upward to the skywith his whip. Barebone rode in front to encourage the slower horse. Atthe village of Mortagne he signed to Jean to wait before the inn until hehad taken his horse to the stable and paid for its hire. Then heclambered to the box beside him and they rattled down the long street andout into the open road that led across the marshes to the port--a fewwooden houses and a jetty, running out from the shallows to the channel.

  When they reached the jetty, going slowly at the last through the heavydust, the air was still and breathless. The rounded clouds still toweredabove them, making the river black with their deep shadows. A few lightstwinkled across the waters. They were the lightships marking the middlebank of the Gironde, which is many miles wide at this spot and rendereddangerous by innumerable sand-banks.

  "In five minutes it will be upon us," said Jean. "You had better turnback."

  "Oh, no," was the reply, with a reassuring laugh. "In the country where Icome from, they do not turn back."