BURGLARS AT FRENCH CROSS.
Derrice readily accepted the invitation to French Cross, but found her
services as a comforter in no wise required.
Chelda seemed absolutely indifferent to Mr. Huntington's departure.
She was ready enough to discuss him when his name was mentioned, but
all her utterances were so calm and dispassionate that Derrice often
found herself obliged to check the look of wonder with which she found
herself gazing at the enigmatical girl. Was Mrs. Negus mistaken? She
pondered the question for some time, then in disquiet put it out of her
mind and devoted herself to being quietly happy.
Miss Gastonguay took an undisguised pleasure in her company. She
conducted her all over the estate, showed her the wood and the French
Cross graveyard from which the house had taken its name, and where the
first Catholic settlers of the town lay buried.
Miss Gastonguay had had a stone wall put around it, and had replaced
the old wooden cross with a stately marble one that could be seen
gleaming from its gentle hill for miles about the country.
They also made excursions together to the town, and Miss Gastonguay
took Derrice in her carriage to return the calls that had been made
upon her.
The seven Mrs. Potts, after a family conclave, for they stood or fell
together, had resolved to extend the light of their countenances
upon Derrice. True, she was not strictly within the circle of those
whom they patronised, for society was formed along church lines in
Rossignol, and she belonged to the Church of the United Brethren,
or the orthodox and unfashionable clan, while they as Unitarians
represented the liberal and broad-minded set of the community. However,
the blood of the Potts was getting thin, their tribe was becoming
more and more reduced, for but few strangers made a permanent home in
Rossignol. It was therefore absolutely necessary to introduce some new
elements, and they began with the wife of the bank cashier.
A week previous they had all called, and Miss Gastonguay, in her
interest in Derrice, even went so far as to humble herself before the
seven ladies, and crave forgiveness for her latest sin against them in
likening them to the seven wifes of Saint Ives with their seven bags
and seven cats. This she did in order to enter their houses with her
guest.
She really was growing very much attached to this young girl, yet there
were times when her sturdy good-humour ceased, and she shut herself in
her room in an unapproachable temper.
Chelda never varied in her treatment of Derrice. She sought her
company, she was always good-tempered and agreeable, interested and
never jealous, and at frequent intervals made ingenious suggestions
that started the girl on her favourite topic of conversation,--her life
with her idolised father.
Justin was still away, but one day, after a fortnight's absence, a
letter was received from him. Mr. Huntington had been summoned to the
bedside of his dying father. Justin was therefore at liberty to return
to Rossignol.
Derrice, with eyes full of tears at the thought of Mr. Huntington's
affliction, was yet conscious of a singing at her heart at the thought
of her husband's return. However, she showed no sign of emotion, and
Miss Gastonguay, who had been watching her, said, "I believe that young
man has frightened all the spirit out of you."
"What young man?" asked Derrice, in surprise.
"Your husband, of course."
"Why, I have been trying to be proper and dignified. I have been afraid
you would think me giddy."
"Giddy,--good gracious, I like to see young people frisk a bit."
"If I might," said Derrice, cautiously, "if I might, I should like at
this present moment to do something."
"What is it?"
"I should like to run around the house the way the Negus children do."
"Come along," said her hostess, laconically, and marching to the hall
she threw open the large front door.
Derrice caught up the train of her evening gown and disappeared like a
flash around one end of the house.
March was over, with its alternations of heat and cold, snow banks and
running rivulets. The gravelled walks were now dry and firm after the
warm April sunshine of the day, and Derrice ran until she was tired,
then fluttering her precious letter in her hand she sank on the steps
at Miss Gastonguay's feet.
"Come in, child," said that lady, "and have your evening cup of tea,
and then play a game of bagatelle with me. That will keep you on your
feet. I think I'll change my mind; your spirit is not all gone."
Later on--in the middle of the night--Miss Gastonguay emphasised this
decision. Derrice's spirit certainly was not gone.
For the rest of the evening the girl was like one moving in an
enchanted dream. Her eyes shone, her cheeks glowed, her hair glittered
in the lamplight like a crown set over her fair brows. Miss Gastonguay,
fascinated by her beauty, could not keep her gaze from her, and even
Chelda threw her a frequent glance of an apparently generous admiration.
They did not go to bed until a late hour, but Derrice was too much
excited to sleep long. She dropped into one short nap, then her excited
brain, having thrown this sop to her fatigued body, woke her up and
drove her to the window.
She stood in its embrasure, a dove-coloured dressing-gown thrown over
her shoulders, her face turned toward the town, her whole attitude one
of charming expectancy. To-morrow he would be at home,--her own adored
husband.
The night was not very dark. There was no moon, but the stars were
shining brightly, and some light was afforded to the atmosphere by the
shining bosom of the river.
Across the face of her musings there suddenly drifted the fat figure of
the pony. Either allured by the calm beauty of the night, or disturbed
in his slumbers by some remembrance of a too hearty supper, he had left
his loose box, whose door was always open, and was employing his time
by strolling about the lawn and the gravel drive.
Derrice knew that in his younger days he had been a circus pony, and
although long since rescued from that life by Miss Gastonguay, he yet
retained some habits not in general peculiar to the equine race.
He could neatly brush Miss Gastonguay's coat by means of a whisk held
between his teeth, he could also look for a hidden handkerchief, and
upon one or two occasions he had been ignominiously expelled from the
house while indulging in an interested search for a sugar-bowl.
To-night he was evidently uneasy, and Derrice watched him
compassionately as he walked slowly up and down before the house, and
presently, by way of quieting his nerves, went to practise his steps on
a trick ladder that Miss Gastonguay had had erected on the lawn for him.
Up and down the steps he went, carefully balancing himself on his
dainty hoofs, but he found no peace for his troubled mind in the
exercise, and soon returned to the pawed spot on the grass below his
mistress's window, where he stood nervously throwing his head in the
air and seeming to catch it as it came down.
"Poor pony, he is unhappy and I am so happy," murmured Derrice, and
hastily thrusting her arms into the sleeves of her gown, she drew on
a pair of shoes and resolved to go down and beg him to return to the
stable.
Of a singularly fearless disposition, it never occurred to her that
there could be any danger to herself in following the pony's example by
prowling about the large and lonely house at the dead of night. She did
not even think of a light, and, stepping to the doorway of her room,
she was just about to hurry through the hall when a sudden discovery
brought her to a standstill.
Her room was just across the hall from Miss Gastonguay's, and according
to a mutual agreement both slept with their doors open, "Lest you
should be lonely," Miss Gastonguay said, "And lest any one should run
away with you," Derrice often rejoined.
Miss Gastonguay was not one to break a promise, even of the most
trifling nature, and, with a low, "Perhaps she has gone down to the
pony herself," Derrice pushed open the door of her room. Usually she
could look right in and see the uninterrupted shadowy outline of the
big white bed at the end of the room. Now there was an obstruction.
Two dusky shapes stood by the bedhead, and their position with regard
to the small table with many drawers standing by Miss Gastonguay's
pillow speedily revealed their errand to Derrice.
In her frequent meetings with people possessed of an abundance of
this world's goods, she had heard stories of burglars and their ways.
She knew at once, without the slightest speculation, that here were
two scoundrels tempted by the lonely situation of French Cross, the
wealth of its mistress, and her well-known carelessness with regard to
surrounding herself with able protectors.
Prosperity and Tribulation were no better than two children. These
men were resolved to possess themselves of some of Miss Gastonguay's
valuables.
Derrice was nearly blind with indignation. Her whole body shook. Would
these men dare to lay unholy hands on the property of one so good and
generous? They had probably chloroformed her before they began their
work of rifling the drawers.
She sprang forward. Oh, for a weapon with which to punish the vile
invaders! Nothing came to her hand but a silver bedroom candlestick
gleaming on a table by the door. She seized it, rushed forward, and,
with a cry of rage, precipitated herself on the two men.
They had indeed been trying to prolong Miss Gastonguay's natural
slumber into an artificial one that would last until they had had time
to examine the room, but just at the moment of Derrice's appearance a
singular change had come over them.
They had been doing their work with the rapidity of lightning. The
contents of all the drawers but one had been transferred to their
pockets, but, at the discovery of the few valueless articles in this
drawer, they had exchanged one amazed glance, and then as quickly as
they had taken their booty they returned it.
Money and jewelry went noiselessly back, the lantern was turned with
a rapid flash on Miss Gastonguay, the handkerchief was lifted from
her face, and they were just about to beat a retreat from the room,
when Derrice threw herself on them and inflicted a smart blow with the
candlestick on the head of the one nearest her.
Prepared for all contingencies, the one attacked threw a somewhat
comical glance at his associate. Old people slept lightly. They had
not thought of drugging this young healthy person, indeed they had not
planned to enter her room, and, calmly putting her aside, they vanished
into the hall.
Derrice turned her attention to Miss Gastonguay, who was sitting up
in bed, stupidly ejaculating, "What--what's all this? Is that your
husband, Derrice Mercer? Who's pounding below?"
"No, no," shrieked the girl, "it is the pony. They have put out their
lantern. They are thieves and robbers; come, let us try to catch
them,--I cannot leave you," and she half dragged, half conducted her
bewildered friend to the hall.
There a curious scene was taking place. Chelda, who slept with one ear
open in a cat-like fashion, had heard Derrice's first cry, and, leaping
from her bed, had run to the head of the staircase, where she now
stood with a revolver, calmly popping away at a confused jumble in the
hall below, consisting of two men and a mass of something white.
"Stop, stop, Chelda," cried Derrice, "the pony has come in!"
The Fairy Prince had indeed, in his anxiety about the strangers who had
been gliding around the house, mounted the front steps and pushed open
the hall door, whose bolt the strangers had shot back to provide for
speedy escape if necessary. The Fairy Prince had entered upon a tour of
discovery through the hall, and, not finding them, had ended by placing
his fat body immediately at the foot of the staircase.
One of the men had slipped in his rapid descent, and had inflicted some
injury upon himself, for his companion with many oaths was adjuring him
to come on, and, finding he could not, promptly snatched at the pony's
forelock, forced him aside, and rushed away.
"Come, girls,--we've got one of them," cried Miss Gastonguay,
triumphantly. "Chelda, put up that revolver. You don't want to shoot a
man in the back,--give it to me. You young villain, if you move I'll
shoot you dead!" and valiantly charging down the staircase with Derrice
in close attendance, she hurled herself on the suddenly crippled man,
who stood holding to the polished railing.
He had twisted his foot, and at her words he made a last desperate
attempt to get away, but fell headlong, whereupon Miss Gastonguay
promptly placed a hall chair on his back.
Derrice wrenched the cord from her dressing-gown, and with Miss
Gastonguay's assistance tied firmly together the hands that he only
pretended to withdraw from them. He was a cool and self-possessed
stripling, by no means vicious in appearance, but rather of a
philosophical composure, for, in spite of the pain in his foot, he
seemed to take the accident of his capture as rather a humorous one.
When Prosperity and Tribulation arrived on the scene,--both fully
dressed even to their watches,--their eyes as big as saucers took in
the awe-inspiring sight of a gentlemanly-looking lad with bound hands
stretched on the hardwood floor, while their mistress, her niece, and
her guest, in startling costumes, held a consultation in the background.
"Prosperity," said Miss Gastonguay, "go heat some water, bathe that
villain's foot, and put some liniment on it."
Prosperity, keeping at a safe distance from the prisoner's heels, put
down his candle, lighted the hall, and prepared to do as he was told.
"Then take him out to the laundry," said Miss Gastonguay, "carry him if
he can't walk, and do you and Tribulation keep close behind him so he
can't get away; and you girls come to bed."
They went up-stairs with her. Chelda, strange to say, chattered
excitedly, and did not want to go to her room. Miss Gastonguay and
Derrice did not respond, and she was forced to leave them. They were
both sombre and regretful, and neither of them could sleep, although
they both threw themselves upon their beds.
Toward morning, Derrice saw through the open door that Miss Gastonguay
was leaving her room. She sprang up, and, running out to the hall,
found she was fully dressed.
"What do you want, child?" asked Miss Gastonguay.
"I want to ask you to let that young man go," said Derrice, firmly. "I
believe he is sorry by this time."
"Little fool, would you have crime stalk unpunished through the land?"
"No, but he is so young."
"Go back to bed. I will see to him."
"You will let him go," said Derrice, snatching her hand and pressing it
to her lips. "I see it in your eye."