The morning following the events recorded in the last chapter was
ushered in with bright sunshine, and everything pleasant, so far as
outward appearances went, in and out of the mill, though some hearts
were restless or uneasy as to how it would be when the sun rose to run
his accustomed course the next morning. Charlie was perhaps the happiest
of all those whose fortunes we are now following. He had but slight
clouds to dim his horizon; at least his horizon as seen by his own
eyes. He went cheerfully and gladly through his duties that morning, and
never did he more fully merit the name of "Happy Charlie" bestowed on
him by his comrades in the gallant 22nd than he did on the morning in
question. The truth was he was beginning to tire of old Pierre Moullin's
determined refusal to have anything to say to him in the character of
son-in-law. He had made up his mind (and being of a hopeful nature,
considered more than half the battle was fought in consequence), that
come what might, he would prevail on Marguerite to marry him at once,
and trust to gain her Father's forgiveness when the deed was done beyond
recall. And so our friend Charlie whistled and sang through this day,
building all sorts of pleasant castles about his future life, little
thinking what a train was being laid, to which, if the match were
applied, he and his castles would be blown up in a more sanguinary, if
not more decisive manner, than these airy fabrications generally have to
yield to!
Hirzel had been detained on various pretexts by his Father; in
consequence he was rather late in starting for this important business
on which he was to be despatched. From the time he managed to get off,
it was not at all likely that he could be back before 10 o'clock.
Marguerite's heart quite misgave her when she heard this, but as time
moved on, and it came to half-past 7, she was re-assured to find that
Jacques Gaultier was putting away his tools, and finally left the house,
saying that he had "work for himself at home, but would return the
following morning to finish repairing those rafters that had so suddenly
got out of repair."
Matters seemed better still when her Father said he did not feel at all
himself that night, and that he thought he would go off to bed.
Marguerite wished him "Good night;" and at 8 o'clock found herself alone
and mistress of her own actions. She might now have brought Charlie into
the house, but that she remembered her Father's prohibition of such a
thing; and at least she thought it best and fittest to leave him master
in his own house, at the same time reserving to herself liberty to
control her own actions. This was fair enough.
At about 8 o'clock, as agreed on, Marguerite took her little lantern,
and going round the path to where they had been standing two evenings
before, she flashed the light three times trusting that Charlie would be
able to see it. Meanwhile Jacques had come out from one of the mill
sheds, where he had been concealed, and went quickly up to the room
behind the granary, only pausing on his way to tell old Pierre that he
was there.
We will leave him waiting for his prey, with a dark sardonic smile on
his ill-favoured countenance, and return to Marguerite, who is waiting
in the granary for her lover, confident that "all is well," and having
no thoughts but pleasant ones concerning the coming meeting. Even the
remembrance of Hirzel's absence brings no disquietude with it. Her
thoughts shape themselves into a blessing when her brother's bright
manly face comes before her, and then she bends all her attention to
listen for Charlie's approach.
She had been waiting for rather more than an hour, when she heard her
name called softly; then up Charlie scrambled, and when standing on the
wheel his head comes just half way up the window.
"Well, here I am, Marguerite; I hope you were not alarmed at the time I
have taken, but I was on duty when I saw your signal, and it was some
little time before I could get away."
"I was getting a little anxious, Charlie, but 'all is well' now that you
have come."
"Ah, that is right! but how are you to-night, little woman--all the
fancies fled?"
"Almost Charlie, but still not quite; you will think me very foolish, I
know, but everything was so beautifully arranged for my seeing you
easily to-night that I can't help thinking that some one else has been
arranging too for some purpose of his own."
"Come, come, you little croaker, try and put such thoughts out of your
pretty head, and remember I 'deserve the fair' after having been so
'brave' as to mount this rickety wheel, but I wish you would take this
parcel from me; the bobbins are in it, which I have perilled my life to
bring! I hope you see my devotion clearly, eh?"
"I do, indeed, Charlie, and now I shall work all the better and be more
in earnest; I don't mean you to have all the work on your shoulders when
we marry; I know I shall be able to get sale for my lace amongst the
beautiful ladies you tell me of in England."
"Ah, Marguerite, that is just what I wanted to speak to you about; I
suppose your Father still wishes you to marry that rascal Gaultier? By
the way, I believe he or some one very like him was sneaking round the
cliffs on Monday night. After I left you, I fancied I saw him; it might
be _only_ fancy. Did you see anything of him?
"I wish--."
* * * * *
Alas! poor Charlie! Will you speak again to finish that sentence and
tell what you wish? For suddenly the mill wheel has turned round with a
tremendous crash, and the brave young soldier has been hurled down! And
Marguerite, what of her? With one agonized cry she rushed to the door
intending to run outside to see if anything could be done for Charlie,
when she came face to face with Jacques Gaultier! In an instant it all
flashed on her that he must have wrought this terrible work, and,
overcome by grief and horror, she sank down in a deadly faint. Bad man
as he was, Jacques was really overcome at the consequences of his act,
for he thought he had also killed Marguerite. He called loudly to her
Father, who came up hurriedly. He was also seriously alarmed when his
gaze rested on his child lying like one dead on the floor. Between them
they carried her downstairs and laid her on her bed. They applied such
restoratives as suggested themselves, but as everything was for sometime
quite unavailing, a more miserable pair it would have been difficult to
discover.
Hirzel now came in. He was running upstairs to the granary when his
Father called him in to see if he could do anything for his poor sister.
"A pretty night's work this," he said, when he came into the room and
saw his sister lying there.
At this moment she opened her eyes, and he went close to her and raised
her in his arms. With an expression of deep thankfulness, Marguerite's
first words were to send that murderer, Jacques Gaultier, away out of
her sight. Hirzel ordered him to leave the room, with more fierceness in
his tone than anyone had heard there before.
"Oh! Hirzel, what shall I do without Charlie? Stay with me, only you,
and I will tell you all."
Hearing this her Father left the room, and Hirzel bent down and
whispered to her---
"Charlie is alive and well. He told me to tell you this himself."
"Oh! Hirzel, you are deceiving me. How could he be alive after such a
dreadful fall? It was terrible."
Here Marguerite's fortitude gave way, and she indulged in a flood of
tears, while Hirzel looked at her with the masculine helplessness usual
on such occasions, and indeed it seemed to cost the fine tender-hearted
fellow an effort to keep from joining in them too. At last he said,
"Well Marguerite, if you don't stop, I'll go off, and tell Charlie you
only cried after you heard he was alive and well."
"Ah! Hirzel, is that not the way with our sex. Sometimes, to cry over
the best and happiest times while the worst is bravely borne?"
Hirzel then told Marguerite how he had met Charlie just outside at the
foot of the lane, considerably bruised and knocked about, though without
any internal injuries. How he escaped was nothing short of a miracle,
one of those things which occasionally happen, perhaps, to show what
can be done when there is the will to do it.
There was an iron loop which projected about a foot from the walls, this
Charlie made a spring at after the manner of a gymnast; he caught it,
and although it came away in his grasp, yet it broke his fall, and what
was of more importance, changed the direction of his course to the
brickwork alongside the wheel, instead of the water under it. Once on
the brickwork he jumped down into the garden, and went out into the
lane, where he met Hirzel.
Charlie did not for a moment suspect that there was anything but pure
accident in what had happened, and as he met Hirzel just at that moment
he judged it wisest not to return near the house in case he should get
Marguerite into trouble; but after telling Hirzel to assure his sister
that he was safe, he set off to the fortress, little thinking he was
supposed to be lying dead at the foot of the Moulin Huêt cliffs, carried
there by the mill stream.
Marguerite now told to her brother, her suspicions of how all had
happened. He wished to go immediately and tax Jacques with the crime;
but, in deference to his sister's wishes, remained where he was. The
noise of the mill wheel turning round suddenly ceased, and on Hirzel's
going up to ascertain the cause, he found his Father tying up the rope
in the room behind the granary. This rope passed out of a small round
hole in the wall of this room, and round the corner of the house where
it was attached to the wheel. The window through which Charlie and
Marguerite had been talking was rather a large one, but had some iron
bars across which had prevented Marguerite leaning out to see what had
become of Charlie. This perhaps was as well, for at best his descent
would have been extremely trying to look at.
The next morning did not bring Jacques to finish his work, but in the
evening he appeared, after vainly trying to induce Marguerite to speak
to him, which naturally she was very loath to do, went and commenced his
work, which he went steadily on with, though he was very much fatigued
by having no rest the preceding night, and now had been out fishing all
day. He sat down to rest for a few minutes when he fell asleep. After
dark old Pierre came round to lock all the doors, as was his nightly
custom. Looking in and not seeing Jacques he supposed he had gone and
locked that door also. Pierre then went to rest himself, and all were
buried in slumber, with the exception of Hirzel, who had gone over to
Jerbourg to acquaint Charlie with all that had happened. About 9
o'clock, as Charlie and Hirzel were coming out of the barracks, they saw
flames rising in the direction of the mill. It was but the work of a
moment for Charlie to run back and get leave for some of his comrades to
come with him, and off they set for the mill. On arriving there they
found their surmises correct: both house and mill were enveloped in
flames. Marguerite and her Father were safely out, but the latter was in
a dreadful state of misery at seeing all his property go like this.
Charlie went up to him after he had spoken to Marguerite, and said he
would try and save the wheel for future murders. Seeing Charlie, whom he
fully thought to be dead, and hearing these words, the old man shrank
back with horror. He fell on his knees and begged Charlie to forgive
him, adding that it was not he who had done it, but Jacques. Charlie
raised the old man, saying all should be forgiven and forgotten on one
condition. That condition we need hardly state was permission to marry
Marguerite without further trouble. Until Pierre had said so Charlie,
had no idea that he knew any thing of his intended destruction. It
saddened him very much and made him very sorry for the old man; however,
he had other things to think of, so he set all the other soldiers to
hand up water from the mill stream, which was now running for some
little time. Suddenly a shout from one of the soldiers called Charlie's
attention, and on going to see what it was, he found him dragging a body
out of the mill stream. With some difficulty he recognized Jacques
Gaultier, as it was rather dark just there. Jacques revived a little,
and told Charlie how on waking he had found the room full of smoke, and
finding the door locked he broke it down, but the door of the granary
resisted all his efforts, so he put all his strength towards tearing the
bars from the window. He succeeded in this and got out on the wheel, but
directly he tried to get down the rope--which doubtless had been much
charred by the flames--gave way, and down he went. He had seen from the
window, Charlie and his comrades coming, and this endued him with
further strength, but all to no purpose. He implored Charlie's
forgiveness, and turning over with a groan he died.
Little now remains to be told. Owing to the exertions of the soldiers
some of the machinery was saved, but the old man never made any use of
it; he had too great a horror of anything like a mill after his past
experiences. Charlie and Marguerite were soon married. They lived at
Castle Cornet for some time, and after the restoration went with the
Regiment to England, where Marguerite could display her loyalty
undisturbed. Hirzel remained heart-whole to the last we hear of him, and
after his Father's death went and lived with his sister in England, to
see for himself some of the wonders which Charlie had described to him
in his own little Island home.