THE GHOST IN THE CHAPEL.
Philippe told his mother of the outcome of his proposal to Molly and
when he repeated her remark about her and her Jean, the good lady shed
tears of remorse that she had encouraged Philippe to want to marry a
girl that she well knew her son did not really and truly love. Molly's
answer made her realize even more than before the fine, true heart of
her little Kentucky cousin, and her regret was very great that Molly was
not to become the bride of her son.
"Ah, my boy, how stupid we have been! Here you and I have gone serenely
on all winter, confident that either one of these lovely girls, Judy or
Molly, was ready to drop like a ripe plum if you but touched the tree.
We never once thought of the damage we might do one of the girls.
Suppose you had engaged the affections of both of them, while you were
deciding which one you wanted the more? Thank goodness, there are no
hearts broken, not even yours. Tell me, dear: will you try for Judy
now?"
"As our American friends say: 'Not on your life,'" laughed Philippe.
"Molly has taught me a lesson. I am not in love with Miss Julia Kean
even as much as with my cousin, and with the example of happiness ever
before my eyes that you and my father present, I shall be very careful
and pick out for my wife one whom I truly love and who, I hope, truly
loves me. I can't quite see how I escaped falling deeply in love with
Cousin Molly. She is so sweet and so everything that I admire. Do you
know, _ma mère_, I have an idea that the Providence that looks after
children and fools has protected me from a calamity which falling in
love with Molly would have been? I have a feeling that my little cousin
is already in love with someone else, and that there never has been a
chance for me."
"Well, what a wise young man a refusal has made of you!" teased his
mother. "Two or three more experiences of the sort will make a real
savant of you. What makes you have this feeling, this pricking in your
thumbs?"
"Something about the way she spoke of love. Her eyes are certainly the
mirrors of her soul, and there was a look in them that made me feel she
knew what she was talking about."
"Well, we never can tell. I am glad my thoughtlessness and stupidity
have not done any damage," said the marchioness, looking fondly at her
handsome son and thinking in her heart that both girls must be either
blind or already very much in love not to be crazy about her Adonis.
That night, the soft white clouds that had been the despair of Judy and
Pierce all day as they had vainly tried to put them on canvas, came
together and managed to make a very large black cloud which finally
filled the whole heavens; and a fierce thunder storm ensued.
Molly and Judy lay awake talking. Judy had the hardihood to accuse Molly
of having turned down a chance to become the future Marquise d'Ochtè.
"How on earth do you know, Judy? I would never think of telling such a
thing even to you, my very best friend. It seems a very unfair advantage
to take of a man, to let people know he has been refused. But you are
the greatest guesser in the world."
"It didn't take much guessing to come to this conclusion. Who's a mole
now, you old bat? I have known for some time that the handsome Philippe
has had us both under consideration and it was a toss up which one would
be honored. I was betting on you but hoping I would draw the prize,"
laughed Judy.
"Oh, Judy!" exclaimed Molly, shocked a little and wondering if, after
all, Judy was just flirting with her brother Kent.
"Oh, I didn't want to accept him, but I just wanted to jar him a little!
I like him very much and am crazy about his mother and father, but his
complacency in regard to you and me has rather--rather--well, 'got my
goat.' I don't know how else to put it. It has never entered his
aristocratic French mind that we would think of refusing him. He isn't
exactly conceited, in fact, I don't think he is at all conceited; but
things have come his way too much all his life.
"But my, wouldn't it be great to be mistress of this wonderful place?
The chateau is simply perfect and the country around just screaming to
be painted. Pierce and I found so many motifs this morning that I know I
could live here a hundred years and not paint half of them. I am afraid
if Philippe had chosen 'Apple Blossom Time in Normandy' to make love to
me; and had first taken me on a high hill and shown me all of his
wonderful estates, that I should have been tempted to make a _marriage
de convenance_, in spite of my desire to jar your handsome cousin.
Pierce and I were on the opposite hill trying to paint some cloud
effects when Philippe broke off a spray of apple blossoms and gave it to
you. I couldn't help seeing what ensued; but I got in front of Pierce,
so he missed the tableau; and he was so taken up with the clouds that he
did not know he was missing anything."
Molly was thankful for the darkness that hid her hot face. But the storm
was becoming so severe that Judy dropped the subject and got up to look
out of the window for more cloud effects.
"Oh, Judy, I forgot to tell you that Philippe told me the ghost story
connected with the old chateau! Come on back to bed and I'll tell it to
you," said Molly.
Judy accordingly abandoned the study of the storm clouds and eagerly
drank in every word Molly had to tell her of the beautiful Elizabeth and
the terrible night of Saint Bartholomew.
"Oh, Molly, delicious thrills are running up and down my backbone? And
you say Philippe has never been to the chapel on a stormy night to test
the truth of the story? Lived here all his life and never had the
get-up-and-get to go find out? That is the keynote of his character. He
lacks imagination, and that is one big reason both of us have had for
not succumbing to his charms. There is no telling what havoc he might
have played with our hearts if he had had more imagination."
Then both girls lay still listening to the storm, each one thinking of
another good reason she had for not falling in love with poor Philippe,
even if he had been gifted with the imagination of a Byron.
"Oh, what a clap of thunder!" Judy clutched Molly and held her close. "I
have always been more afraid of thunder than lightning. Molly, I wonder
if Elizabeth's footprints wouldn't be visible on such a night? Let's go
see. I can't sleep for thinking of her. We can easily get there without
being seen or heard."
Wrapped in their kimonos and armed with Judy's electric searchlight and
a big pitcher of water, as Philippe had said the floor must be wet to
bring out the footprints, the girls made their way to the haunted
chapel. They groped along narrow passages connecting the new chateau
with the old. There was an entrance to the chapel through the old
chateau made since the fatal night of Saint Bartholomew, but the girls
were not aware of it. They opened a narrow door on the court and ran
through the pouring rain to the great door of the chapel. It was not
locked but very heavy and it took their combined strength to push it
open. The few moments that it took to accomplish this were enough for
them to become wet to the skin.
How dark and grewsome the chapel was! The storm was raging. Looking up
through the cracks in the little steeple, they could see flash after
flash of continuous white lightning. They might have spared themselves
the trouble of bringing the pitcher of water as the floor was already
very wet from the leaks in the steeple. Molly clutched Judy, trying to
keep from screaming, as something brushed her cheek.
"Something touched me! There it is again!" But the searchlight proved it
to be nothing more than a great thick rope hanging from the steeple.
"Could it be the one the Jesuit came down?" gasped Judy.
"Hardly," whispered Molly. "Ropes don't last four hundred years. It must
be the bell rope."
"Of course," exclaimed Judy, reassured. "What a stupid I am! But come
on, we must examine the floor. Let's see: she started at the altar where
she had concealed the boy, and then ran towards the door. The footprints
should be along here where we are standing. Not enough wetness here."
Judy turned over the pitcher and Molly had to jump to keep her feet out
of the water. The girls stooped and began examining every inch of the
flagging.
"Judy, Judy, look!" cried Molly. "This is a footprint. It stays dry
while all the floor is wet. Look, the little toes and then a space for
the high arch and then the slender little heel! Here is another and
another."
Tense with excitement the girls stood up and faced each other. There was
an extra loud crash of thunder and a vivid flash of lightning. There
emerged from behind the altar a tall figure in a priest's black cowl,
carrying a lantern.
If there had been any peasants in the field passing the old steeple on
this night of terrible storm, they would have been able to bear witness
to the truth of the ghost story of the beautiful Elizabeth. There was
certainly a shriek of "God help me! God help me!" but it came from the
over-wrought Judy. Molly reasoned quickly that ghosts of Jesuits would
not carry kerosene lanterns; and, besides, that ghosts do not as a rule
appear to two persons at the same time.
The man put down his lantern on the altar and threw back his hood,
disclosing the features of Philippe. His lantern had little effect on
the blackness of the chapel and Molly had turned off their searchlight
at sight of the apparition. Philippe peered into the darkness and spoke
with a slight agitation:
"Is some one in the chapel? I thought I heard a scream, but the thunder
was so loud I am not sure."
Judy sat down in the puddle made by the overturned pitcher and gave a
dry sob, while Molly turned on the searchlight and called out:
"Nobody but two penitents, Brother Philippe."
"Well, you gave me quite a turn! I thought you were at least the poor
murdered Elizabeth," and Philippe strode forward and assisted the
trembling Judy to her feet. "I couldn't sleep and I thought I would come
and test the truth of the old tale about the footprints. I felt somehow
that I had lacked in imagination never to have done it before. Certainly
you girls have no lack of it."
"I wish I did lack a little of the abundance I possess," shuddered Judy.
"I was as certain a moment ago that you were the murderous Jesuit as I
am now that you are Philippe d'Ochtè. But tell me: how did you get
behind the altar without our seeing you; and where did you get that
cloak? It is about the most picturesque thing I ever saw."
"There is an entrance to the old chateau from behind the altar; and as
for my cloak it is an ordinary _gens d'arme_ cape. It does look rather
monkish. If you admire it, I will present it to you. It will make good
studio property."
The young people had to examine the footprints more carefully, and of
course Philippe discovered that they were really raised places in the
rock, and for that reason showed when the floor was wet.
He conducted the girls back to the main building through the narrow
corridor that had entrance to the chapel through a small door behind the
altar.
"If you only had known of this way, you would have been spared a
wetting. Both of you are drenched. There is a fire in the library. If
you will come there you can dry off. I am so afraid you will catch
cold," said Philippe. "I think you girls are a spunky pair. I have never
known a French girl who would have dared to go on the adventure you have
to-night."
"Well, I fancy we would not have dared to go had we really believed in
ghosts. As for drying ourselves by the library fire I think we had much
better go off to bed. We might rouse the household. Cousin Sally is not
to know of our escapade, as you say she has a dread of this old story
getting started up again," said Molly.
The two bade their young host good-night and crept quietly to their
room.
"My, don't dry clothes and warm covers feel good!" exclaimed Judy,
snuggling down in the lavender-scented linen sheets. "Molly, I was never
more frightened in my life than when that figure appeared behind the
altar! My not really believing in ghosts did not help me one bit. Did
you ever see anything in the way of a mere man quite so excruciatingly
handsome as Philippe when he threw back his cowl and stood bareheaded
peering into the darkness?"
"Oh, Judy, what a girl you are! How could you take note of all that when
you were in a little heap on the floor sobbing out your soul?"
"I peeped through my fingers. People don't sob with their eyes. What a
picture he would make!" and Judy began to draw in the air. "Golden hair
and beard, with the black peaked hood half off and that expression of
looking into the future that he had when he spoke to ask who was there!
'The Young Prophet,' must be the title. He seems to have a latent
imagination, after all. I believe I have done him an injustice. An awful
pity one of us can't marry him! Somehow we ought to keep him in the
family. I bet you I know why your Cousin Sally hates to have the ghost
talked about! I just know she has made a trip to the chapel in a spirit
of adventure and got good and scared."
But Molly was breathing so quietly that Judy realized she was talking to
the air, making no more impression than her imaginary brush had made
when she painted the wonderful picture of "The Young Prophet."