DECEPTIONS.
On the anniversary of his mother's death, Frank Mathers resolved to
visit her tomb. He had not been before; why, he could not explain.
However, he determined to make up for past deficiencies.
Accordingly, he went with a small bunch of flowers which he placed
upon his mother's tomb. He felt a deep veneration for her. He now
knew more than ever what she had done for him, and, in his heart, he
thanked heaven that had given him such a mother. He could not help
wishing that she were still alive, but he felt happy for all that,
his soul was full of thankfulness.
This visit did him so much good that he thought he would like to go
oftener.
When he came home he was astonished to see his step-mother. She was
in a dreadful fit of jealousy. "The booby," she said to her husband,
so that Frank could hear; "he was not a little attached to his
mother's apron-strings."
Frank did not say a single word and the storm soon abated.
A few days afterwards found him walking near "Les Marches," hoping
to meet Adele Rougeant. He was not successful. Still, he continued
his visits, hoping to meet her some day.
He was at last rewarded for his pains. On turning a sharp corner he
suddenly met her. The meeting was so unexpected that Frank's
nervous system was quite upset. He had come hoping to talk to her.
He was to enquire about Mr. Rougeant's health.
But now, his courage failed him. He raised his hat, his lips
muttered a faint: "How d'ye do?" he smiled in a ludicrous manner and
passed on. The young girl who thought he was about his business
bowed and went on her way. "He might have said a few words," she
thought.
Frank was vexed with himself.
He thought of retracing his steps, but after a moment's reflection
he decided not to do so.
The weather began to look threatening. The sun was setting. Huge
black clouds were rising from the horizon while an occasional flash
of lightning announced the approach of the coming storm.
Frank hastened as fast as he could toward the Rohais. But, he had
not gone very far before a heavy shower overtook him.
After all his pains, the only thing which he at last secured was a
thorough drenching.
When he came back home, he was down-hearted. Next morning he,
however, determined to make one more attempt.
A few days afterwards saw him leisurely promenading round the farm
of "Les Marches." It was in the evening and the moon was rising.
He went round by the back of the house through the fields. As he
approached, he saw, on the opposite side to the stables, a small
garden enclosed with high walls. One entrance, on the side of which
he now stood, was by a door. He went towards it. The door was ajar.
He entered the garden. Then, and only then, did he begin to reason.
What if someone found him there? They would take him for a thief.
"I must go," he said to himself; "if Mr. Rougeant found me here,
there would be a fine row." But his lips uttered what his heart had
not dictated, and he remained in the garden. It was sweet to be near
her, it was refreshing to his weary brain to behold the paths which
she paraded every day. He was plunged into a deep reverie, when he
saw a light at one of the windows. It was she. Immediately after,
there appeared another light at the other window. It was he. Frank
only cast a glance at the man. He looked at the slender form that
approached the window. Adele looked at the stars for a few moments,
then lowered the blind. He saw her shadow for a time, then _it_ also
disappeared. His heart was beating at a very fast rate. He felt
intoxicated. He had seen her; she had appeared to him as an angel.
How she had gazed towards heaven! What grace; what bearing!
Happening to turn his eyes towards the other window, he saw that
there was no light.
"The old fellow wants to spare his candle," he said to himself; "he
is trying to save a farthing."
This was not the case however. The farmer had suddenly thought of
the garden door which he had forgotten to bolt as usual. He took his
candlestick and went down stairs. Then he put on his boots, and
leaving the candlestick on the table he went through the back door
and stepped into the garden.
Frank was gazing with fixed eyes at the stars, drinking in the balmy
air, when he heard footsteps. Hastily looking in the direction from
whence the sound came, he was horrified to see a man coming towards
him. There was not time to flee, so he quickly crouched away from
the path. Luckily, he was in that part of the garden which was in
the shade.
He trembled as the farmer approached. Would he see him? He was
breathing through his nose; then he fancied he made too much noise.
He opened his mouth wide, then he found that his breathing was not
even audible to himself. He squeezed his body into the least
possible space, and watched the farmer with anxious eyes.
Mr. Rougeant passed by without noticing him. Frank heard him shut
the door, bolt it, and--oh, misery--turn a key in a latch. Mr.
Rougeant again directed his steps towards him. When he came near to
him, Frank was dreadfully alarmed to see the farmer looking straight
in his direction. The young man was in the shade, while the moon
shone fully on Mr. Rougeant's face. The latter looked straight at
the crouching figure, then, suddenly quickening his pace, he went
towards the house.
This man was a coward. He had seen the contracted silhouette, but
had not had the courage to go up to it; he went hurriedly towards
his house, seized an old gun which hung on two rusty nails and
walked back into the garden. The gun was loaded for shooting
rabbits.
As soon as Frank saw that the man was out of his way, he proceeded
to try and find out some means of escape. "He will be back soon," he
said to himself, "I must be out of his way when he returns." He went
to the door. Impossible to open it. He scrutinized the walls.
Impossible to scale them. Time was passing. What was to be done? He
heard the door of the house close. The master of the garden was
advancing. He saw a pear-tree nailed against the wall. There was
not a moment to lose. He climbed the pear-tree. He broke a few
branches in doing so, and knocked down a dozen pears. He regretted
doing any damage, but he knew it would be better for him, and indeed
for both of them, if he got out of the way in time.
Just as he let himself drop to the ground on the other side of the
wall, the farmer entered the garden. While Mr. Rougeant was engaged
in searching for the supposed thief with cocked gun, Frank was
walking quickly towards his home.
Of course, the farmer did not find the intruder, but he found the
broken Chaumontel pear-tree, and he saw the pears scattered on the
ground.
"The unmitigated scoundrel," he muttered, "if I saw him now--looking
at his gun--I'd make him decamp. I'd send a few shots into his dirty
hide."