"Just such another," he went on; "only this one was a lady, and less
able to take care of herself. Her trouble was nothing but the
omnibus-fare, and she had no change, nothing but an Australian
sovereign; so I paid it for her. I kept pretty near her about the
station while she was buying her ticket, for I overheard two young men,
who were roaming up and down, say as they looked at her, 'Pas de gants,
et des souliers de velours!' That was true; she had no gloves on her
hands, and her little feet had nothing on but some velvet slippers, all
wet and muddy with the dirty streets. So I walked up to her, as if I
had been her servant, you understand, and put her into a carriage, and
stood at the door of it, keeping off any young men who wished to get
in--for she was such a pretty young thing--till the train was ready to
start, and then I got into the nearest second-class carriage there was
to her."
"Well, Tardif?" I said, impatiently, as he paused, looking absently into
the dull embers of the seaweed fire.
"I turned it over in my own mind then," he continued, "and I've turned
it over in my own mind since, and I can make no sort of an account of
it--a young lady travelling without any friends in a dress like that, as
if she had not had a minute to spare in getting ready for her journey.
It was a bad night for a journey too. Could she be going to see some
friend who was dying? At every station I looked out to see if my young
lady left the train; but no, not even at Southampton. Was she going on
to France? 'I must look out for her at the pier-head,' I said to myself.
But when we stopped at the pier I did not want her to think I was
watching her, only I stood well in the light, that she might see me when
she looked round. I saw her stand as if she was considering, and I moved
away very slowly to our boat, to give her the chance of speaking to me,
if she wished. But she only followed me very quietly, as if she did not
want me to see her, and she went down into the ladies' cabin in a
moment, out of sight. Then I thought, 'She is running away from some
one, or from something.' She had no shawls, or umbrellas, or baskets,
such as ladies are always cumbered with, and that looked strange."
"How was she dressed?" I asked.
"She wore a soft, bright-brown jacket," he answered--"a seal-skin they
call it, though I never saw a seal with a skin like that--and a hat like
it, and a blue-silk gown, and her little muddy velvet slippers. It was a
strange dress for travelling, wasn't it, doctor?"
"Very strange indeed," I repeated. An idea was buzzing about my brain
that I had heard a description exactly similar before, but I could not
for the life of me recall where. I could not wait to hunt it out then,
for Tardif was in a full flow of confidence.
"But my heart yearned to her," he said, "more than ever it did over any
bird fallen from its nest, or any lamb that had slipped down the cliffs.
All the softness and all the helplessness of every poor little creature
I had ever seen in my life seemed about her; all the hunted creatures
and all the trapped creatures came to my mind. I can hardly tell you
about it, doctor. I could have risked my life a hundred times over for
her. It was a rough night, and I kept seeing her pale, hunted-looking
face before me, though there was not half the danger I've often been in
round our islands. I couldn't keep myself from fancying we were all
going down to the bottom of the sea, and that poor young thing, running
away from one trouble, was going to meet a worse--if it is worse to die
than to live in great trouble. Dr. Martin, they tell me all the bed of
the sea out yonder under the Atlantic is a smooth, smooth floor, with no
currents, or tides, or streams, but a great calm; and there is no life
down there of any kind. Well, that night I seemed to see the dead who
have perished by sea lying there calm and quiet with their hands folded
across their breasts. A great company it was, and a great graveyard,
strewed over with sleeping shapes, all at rest and quiet, waiting till
they hear the trumpet of the archangel sounding so that even the dead
will hear and live again. It was a solemn sight to see, doctor. Somehow
I came to think it would not be altogether a bad thing for the poor
young troubled creature to go down there among them and be at rest.
There are some people who seem too tender and delicate for this world.
Yet if there had come a chance I'd have laid down my life for hers, even
then, when I knew nothing much about her."
"Tardif," I said, "I did not know what a good fellow you are, though I
ought to have known it by this time."
"No," he answered, "it is not in me; it's something in her. You feel
something of it yourself, doctor, or how could you stay in a poor little
house like this, thinking of nothing but her, and not caring about the
weather keeping you away from home? But let me go on. In the morning
she came on deck, and talked to me about the islands, and where she
could live cheaply, and it ended in her coming home here to lodge in our
little spare room. There was another curious thing--she had not any
luggage with her, not a box nor a bag of any kind. She never knew that I
knew, for that would have troubled her. It is my belief that she has run
away."
"But who can she have run away from, Tardif?" I asked.
"God knows," he answered, "but the girl has suffered; you can see that
by her face. Whoever or whatever she has run away from, her cheeks are
white from it, and her heart sorrowful. I know nothing of her secret;
but this I do know: she is as good, and true, and sweet a little soul as
my poor little wife was. She has been here all winter, doctor, living
under my eye, and I've waited on her as her servant, though a rough
servant I am for one like her. She has tried to make herself cheerful
and contented with our poor ways. See, she mended me that bit of net;
those are her meshes, though her pretty white fingers were made sore by
the twine. She would mend it, sitting where you are now in the
chimney-corner. No; if mam'zelle should die, it will be a great grief of
heart to me. If I could offer my life to God in place of hers, I'd do it
willingly."
"No, she will not die. Look there, Tardif!" I said, pointing to the
door-sill of the inner room. A white card had been slipped under the
door noiselessly--a signal agreed upon between Mother Renouf and me, to
inform me that my patient had at last fallen into a profound slumber,
which seemed likely to continue some hours. She had slept perhaps a few
minutes at a time before, but not a refreshing, wholesome sleep. Tardif
understood the silent signal as well as I did, and a more solemn
expression settled on his face. After a while he put away his pipe, and,
stepping barefoot across the floor without a sound, he stopped the
clock, and brought back to the table, where an oil-lamp was burning, a
large old Bible. Throughout the long night, whenever I awoke, for I
threw myself on the fern bed and slept fitfully, I saw his handsome
face, with its rough, unkempt hair falling across his forehead as it was
bent over the book, while his mouth moved silently as he read to himself
chapter after chapter, and turned softly the pages before him.
I fell into a heavy slumber just before daybreak, and when I awoke two
or three hours after I found that the house had been put in order, just
as usual, though no sound had disturbed me. I glanced anxiously at the
closed door. That it was closed, and the white card still on the sill,
proved to me that our charge had no more been disturbed than myself. The
thought struck me that the morning light would shine full upon the weak
and weary eyelids of the sleeper; but upon going out into the fold to
look at her casement, I discovered that Tardif had been before me and
covered it with an old sail. The room within was sufficiently darkened.
The morning was more than half gone before Mother Renouf opened the door
and came out to us, her old face looking more haggard than ever, but her
little eyes twinkling with satisfaction. She gave me a patronizing nod,
but she went up to Tardif, laid a hand on each of his broad shoulders,
and looked him keenly in the face.
"All goes well, my friend," she said, significantly. "Your little
mam'zelle does not think of going to the good God yet."
I did not stay to watch how Tardif received this news, for I was
impatient myself to see how she was going on. Thank Heaven, the fever
was gone, the delirium at an end. The dark-gray eyes, opening languidly
as my fingers touched her wrist, were calm and intelligent. She was as
weak as a kitten, but that did not trouble me much. I was sure her
natural health was good, and she would soon recover her lost strength. I
had to stoop down to hear what she was saying.
"Have I kept quite still, doctor?" she asked, faintly.
I must own that my eyes smarted, and my voice was not to be trusted. I
had never felt so overjoyed in my life as at that moment. But what a
singular wish to be obedient possessed this girl! What a wonderful
power of submissive self-control! she had cast aside authority and
broken away from it, as she had done apparently, there must have been
some great provocation before a nature like hers could venture to assert
its own independence.
I had ample time for turning over this reflection, for Mother Renouf was
worn out and needed rest, and Suzanne Tardif was of little use in the
sick-room. I scarcely left my patient all that day, for the rumor I had
set afloat the day before was sufficient to make it a difficult task to
procure another nurse. The almost childish face grew visibly better
before my eyes, and when night came I had to acknowledge somewhat
reluctantly that as soon as a boat could leave the island it would be my
bounden duty to return to Guernsey.
"I should like to see Tardif," murmured the girl to me that night, after
she had awakened from a second long and peaceful sleep.
I called him, and he came in barefoot, his broad, burly frame seeming to
fill up all the little room. She could not lift up her head, but her
face was turned toward us, and she held out her small, wasted hand to
him, smiling faintly. He fell on his knees before he took it into his
great, horny palm, and looked down upon it as he held it very carefully
with, tears standing in his eyes.
"Why, it is like an egg-shell," he said. "God bless you, mam'zelle, God
bless you for getting well again!"
She laughed at his words--a feeble though merry laugh, like a
child's--and she seemed delighted with the sight of his hearty face,
glowing as it was with happiness. It was a strange chance that had
thrown these two together. I could not allow Tardif to remain long; but
after that she kept devising little messages to send to him through me
whenever I was about to leave her. Her intercourse with Mother Renouf
was extremely limited, as the old woman's knowledge of English was
slight; and with Suzanne she could hold no conversation at all. It
happened, in consequence, that I was the only person who could talk or
listen to her through the long and dreary hours.