CHAPTER II

Dr. Carroll's Idea

Deborah's bedroom was extremely small. It was merely one corner of the west wing, partitioned off from the spinning-room and the great hand-loom; and there was barely room in it for her bed, dressing-table, chest-of-drawers, washstand, and two chairs. Besides these necessities, there were two windows and a strip of carpet, to be regarded as luxuries. Deborah herself, however, curtained the bed and windows after her own fashion, in white India muslin, put a ruffled cover over the dressing-table, displayed what ornaments she possessed prettily about the room, and so regarded it with satisfaction ever after. Her two windows both looked out over the back of the plantation, the flower-garden being directly below, the woods to one side, the tobacco barns at a distance. The room underneath Deborah's, which occupied the whole of the west wing on the ground floor, had been given to Sir Charles; and in the passage that connected this with the main house were the stairs.

When Deborah woke from her dreamless sleep on the morning after the doctor's visit, the first active thought in her brain was of the dock sale for that day. It was rather later than her usual hour of waking, and she hurriedly began her toilet. Presently, however, as she was loosening her hair, her eyes fell upon the bottle of _aconitum napellus_ which she had brought to her room after its preparation on the day before; and at sight of it her hands dropped to her sides, and she stood still for a moment in contemplation. Then a little shiver ran over her, and she performed something very like a shrug. "I don't like sick people," she muttered to herself, turning to sit down before her mirrored table.

If Deborah's words were quite honest, then certainly this morning she was looking forward to the dock sale with unusual pleasure. She had never before manifested any strong interest in these things. In fact, she had been known to say that they were tiresome. Men did not much frequent them; no young lady was allowed money to spend for herself; and the good housewives were always more interested in table-linens and utensils than ribbons or jewelry. Nevertheless, here, this morning, was Mistress Debby, plying her hair with more interest than she had had for it since the last assembly; and when it was all ringletted and quite smooth, she saw fit to use upon it a white ribbon that had never before been worn. Also, when Lucy cried at the door that she was to wear her blue lutestring petticoat and white muslin overdress, those garments lay ready upon a chair, though once or twice before, on like occasions, there had been some spirited conversation between Deborah and Madam Trevor before the young lady was willing to give up the perverse idea that her every-day holland was quite good enough for such an affair. When she was ready, and the lace mittens taken from their drawer, Deborah carefully placed her phial of distilled liquid in the neck of her dress, pushing it out of sight among the ruffles of her kerchief.

At nine o'clock the family coach, with four ladies inside it, left the house. Sir Charles, in scarlet and white, and Vincent, in bottle green, accompanied the vehicle on horseback. Vincent was reconciled to leaving his fields by the prospect of meeting some of the burgesses in the city and learning the details of yesterday's election of commissioners; while the lieutenant never needed strong urging to give a day to the mild amusements of the colonial town, with its coffee-house, its feeble imitators of English beauship, its jockey club, and what few pretty women were to be visited in the daytime. The clock on St. Anne's was booming the half-hour as the coach crossed the bridge over the inlet at the foot of Prince George Street; and here, in the last house of the town, a quaint wooden cottage in the midst of a well-shaded yard, dwelt Captain Croft of the _Baltimore_. At its gate Vincent, with a little nod to his mother, stopped.

"I've an errand here," he called to Fairfield. "Will be at Carroll's by twelve. Do you dine with us?"

The aide shook his head. "Thanks, no. I'll go to the coffee-house with Curtis and Belmont, if I do not dine at the Governor's. Are you coming to the assembly later?"

"Yes. Till this afternoon, then," and Vincent dismounted at the gate, while the coach, with its single cavalier, all unconscious of the significance of Vincent Trevor's errand, went on again. At the new Bladen Street Sir Charles turned off towards the Governor's "palace," while the vehicle kept on towards the water-side.

Hanover Street was thronged with coaches and conveyances of all kinds, bringing in people from the country, while the ladies, and a few gentlemen of the city, picked their way on foot to the wharf. Every one was known to the Trevors, and madam and Virginia had their heads out of the windows continually, bowing and speaking to those whom they passed; while Lucy was now on one side, now on the other, peeping out with a covertly expectant air; and Deborah watched her, knowing very well what she sought, and knowing also that it would not be found.

Virginia saw her sister's restlessness with displeasure. She said nothing till they left the coach, but when at last they had alighted at the crowded dock, Miss Trevor took occasion to whisper into Lucy's ear:

"Lucy, had John Whitney seen you looking for him this morning, he would, I think, scarce have been overpleased with the manner of it."

And Deborah's eyes chancing to fall on the younger girl's face, saw her cheeks grow scarlet and her eyes fall with quick mortification.

The sight which met the eyes of the new-comers at the wharves was one curious enough for a person of to-day. The broad wooden pier, at which were fastened a dozen or so of pinnaces and small boats belonging to folk who had come from far up the river or down the bay, had been converted for the time into a mart. All up and down, in regular lines, it was dotted with little platforms of wood, which were covered with articles taken from the ship and arranged here for sale, on the day and night before, by salesmen hired for the purpose from the various town shops.

The goods were the selection of London men who had made life studies of the colonial trade, and who knew, moreover, the various tastes of the various localities, north, south, tide-water, and inland. Certainly there was variety to be had here. Down one side of the dock were set forth on their platforms every possible household contrivance, with a good deal of furniture, and enough kitchen utensils, china and glass, to have set up a dozen ordinaries. Along the centre of the pier were materials, ready-fashioned garments, fine damasks that could not be made at home, and fancy articles of dress and the toilet. About these there hovered, throughout the day, a fair sprinkling of gentlemen, pricing scarlet and gold-laced coats, silk stockings, ruffles, and perfumed pomades with great interest. The third row of booths held agricultural implements, tools, coarse materials, such as felt and leather, together with a few books and papers.

When Madam Trevor, with the three girls, arrived at the pier, all aristocratic damedom seemed to be about the silks and damasks. Now, while carrying on a lively conversation with Mistresses King, Paca, Cradock, and Chase, Madam Trevor busily priced tabby silk petticoats and India muslins, of which she selected very pretty pieces for her daughters and Deborah. Mrs. Chase was casting longing glances at a satin bodice that Mistress Harwood held in her hands. But, as the two ladies did not speak, owing to the upper story of the Harwood house, there seemed to be but small hope of attaining to possession thereof.

"What monstrous pretty cloaks!" cried Mrs. King, turning over a pile of short capes of crimson, blue, and white.

"'Tis too near summer now to purchase cloth," rejoined Mrs. Cradock, pursing her lips regretfully as she held one up.

"They are but two guineas, madam; of the latest cut; will continue in England just so for the space of five years--will wear longer than that," observed the salesman casually, with alluring indifference.

"I declare I'll take this blue one! It is of the most excellent texture, and 'tis always cool on the river in the evening."

"Virginia, will you have a white one?" asked her mother.

"No, thank you, madam. I have cloaks and to spare. With your permission, I will go look at the fans farther up. My last was broken at the Masons' rout."

"You may look at them, and I will join you presently. This crimson cape will suit Deborah. Would you like this, Debby?" She turned about to find only Lucy at her side.

"Where is she?" asked Madam Trevor of her daughter.

"On the other side of the pier, I think. Shall I call her?"

"At once. What can she be doing there?"

Lucy turned about and started to wend her way among the groups to the other side of the dock, where Deborah stood over a little collection of chemists' implements. Beside her, a sacred book in his hand, was a young man, at sight of whom Lucy hesitated, her face crimson, her heart beating unsteadily. She stopped almost still for a moment to watch them. Deborah was lovingly handling a siphon, while the young Puritan minister talked to her. Presently he caught sight of Lucy, who was constrained to move towards him again when she perceived the quick light that came into his face and the bow that he made. Deborah turned, and her mouth twitched a little as she perceived her cousin's fluttering nervousness. "Master Whitney was speaking of you, Lucy," she said.

"I did myself the honor to inquire after the health of you and Mistress Virginia," said the young divine, embarrassment and pleasure adding a load of stiffness to his manner.

"Oh, thank you!--As you see--we are very well.--Debby," she added, reluctantly, "mother wants you at once to see if you would like a crimson cloak.--I am so sorry--I mean--"

"I would prefer this siphon a thousand times to a crimson cloak," murmured Deborah, more to herself than to her cousin.

Lucy heard her, however. "I'll ask, if you like, Debby, and then, perhaps, we may return and purchase it."

"I was just about to leave the wharf, having found the book I sought. May I accompany you to Madam Trevor and pay my compliments to her?"

Lucy beamed with delight, while Deborah consented with an absent-minded nod, and the three returned to the side of Madam Trevor, who greeted the Reverend Mr. Whitney with surprise and only the necessary politeness. Indeed this young Puritan was a sore subject in the Trevor family, whose youngest daughter had lost her faith, and, presumably, her heart, to the exponent of a rigid creed, inimical to every form of that Popery which was, just now, the only religion in disfavor with the erstwhile Catholic Province of Maryland.

The crimson cloak was purchased, the siphon was not; Master Whitney took a reluctant leave of little Mistress Trevor; and her mother, accompanied by Mrs. Paca, started to rejoin Virginia over the fans.

"Surely, Antoinette, you'll scarce return home before dinner to-day. Will you not drive up from here and take pot-luck--just a cold joint--with us?"

"Thank you for us all, vastly, Barbara, but we are bespoken by Dr. Carroll. You're most kind."

"I am sorry. I declare I had thought to see the doctor here to-day, but he's not been near the dock."

"Ay, and he rarely misses a sale. Doubtless, he has gone to the assembly."

Indeed, in one of the two places Dr. Carroll, according to unvarying habit, should have been. He happened, however, to be sitting in his own study, where, as one might say, he had waylaid himself. And he was by now sunk in a reverie so profound as to be totally oblivious of any of the proceedings of the outside world. His two maiden sisters bustled about the house preparing for their guests. His son Charles, a lad of seventeen, was in his own room being tutored in French and the classics by the priest who lived in the family. Thus the doctor had his study, which was his particular world, to himself; and the two people who formed the subject of his meditations were linked together by his thought for the first time. Fate and Fortune can work most curiously, and Destiny toss far indeed, when Claude de Mailly, of Versailles, and Deborah Travis, Virginia born, should have set out towards each other from birth, groping till they met, and for some little time after, too. Charles Carroll, being the instrument, not the confidant, of Fate, was now sitting among his books, perplexed and wondering at himself. That morning, for the second time within twenty-four hours, he had traversed the two blocks that separated his house from the ordinary of Miriam Vawse, to which Claude, at the doctor's instance, had been carried from the ship which had been so nearly the scene of his death. And very differently the young fellow looked to-day. He had been bathed; his hair was combed and clipped; his stubbly beard shaven off, his soiled clothes removed, and a clean, coarse linen shift substituted for the under-garments of foreign make and curious fastening which had much puzzled the excellent Mistress Vawse. And in this new guise all the innate refinement and gentleness of the de Mailly nature had once more come to the surface, and Dr. Carroll had no difficulty in determining that his new-found protégé was of even finer breeding than he had guessed on the previous day.

Claude's small travelling coffer had been brought up from the ship, and was placed near his bed, in the clean, sunny little colonial room under the eaves of the house. It must be confessed that Mistress Vawse had been through the trunk pretty thoroughly, after unlocking it with the awkward key which she had found in the Frenchman's clothes. But, with a delirious foreigner, whose disease requires quiet as much as good nursing, beside you, and a long day empty of incident to be gone through in silence, what woman could have resisted the temptation to examine so fascinating a boxful of clothes as this? And in justice let it be added, that Miriam Vawse would quite as soon have thought of assaulting the Governor in the street as of purloining the very smallest lace ruffle contained in this treasure-box; for her forbears and her honesty had come together from Kent in the year of grace 1660, along with certain choice recipes for cordials and strong waters, and the ancestral talent for nursing which Dr. Carroll in the old days had been wont to find so useful.

Meantime the genial doctor had completely wasted his morning in pondering over the almost impossible situation that he wished to bring about; and finally, as the Trevor coach drew up to the door, he left his study, resignedly determined to give his hopes to Chance for fulfilment.

The four ladies alighted from their vehicle, leaving behind them, to the care of the black footboy, a large number of bundles brought from the sale. Their host handed Madam Trevor sedately up the walk and into the house, where now Mistress Lettice Carroll, his sister, and Frances Appleby, his sister-in-law, both in starched and flowered paragon, with powdered locks atop of demure, quaint little heads, stood in the doorway to welcome the guests. When the ladies had removed their head-gear and scarfs up-stairs they returned to the drawing-room where, it being near the hour for dinner, young Charles Carroll and Father St. Quentin awaited them with the doctor. Madam Trevor, Virginia, and Deborah greeted the priest with reverent friendship, for every Sunday they attended the mass which he performed in the Carroll chapel, where the few families of the old faith in Annapolis were accustomed to congregate; and, besides this, he had been kind enough to give some instruction to the Trevor girls and Deborah in the art of conversing in the French language. But Lucy hung uneasily back in the presence of Père Aimé, till he himself went forward and gave her a few gentle and impersonal words of greeting. Madam Trevor, beside Mistress Lettice, cast an annoyed glance at her daughter, but nothing was said on the subject. When Deborah, however, left St. Quentin's side, the doctor placed himself in her way and managed to ask, in a lowered voice, as she passed him:

"You brought the monkshood with you?"

And the girl nodded, gravely, "Yes." The next instant she was seized upon by young Charles, who regarded her less as a piece of femininity than some pretty thing, excellent to talk to, and a very good walker, produced by a beneficent nature for his especial benefit. They had wandered over to the window together, speaking of a forthcoming sail up the river, when Deborah's attention was caught by the voice of St. Quentin, who was addressing the doctor on an interesting topic.

"If it would not displease you, sir," St. Quentin had begun, "I should like to give Charles an hour's holiday this afternoon."

"And wherefore this leniency, good father?" queried Carroll, smiling good-humoredly.

"For a kind of charity, I imagine. This morning, as I walked the length of the street before breakfast, Mrs. Vawse came suddenly running out of her ordinary to ask if I would not go in with her at once, or at some hour of the day. She has lodged in her house, it seems, a foreigner--French--who arrived yesterday on the _Baltimore_, half dead with fever, and who was carried up from the wharves to be taken care of by her. It appears that he raves continually in French, and I fancy that the curiosity of good Mrs. Vawse is growing strong within her, or else she would know how best to serve him, for she would have me come and translate for her some of his wild words, knowing that I have what she terms an unholy learning in that most ungodly tongue. As 'twas then too near the breakfast hour to obey her wishes, I promised to come later in the day."

"And so, thy curiosity being roused by the dame's, thou canst not wait thy visit till after vespers, eh?" And the doctor laughed.

"Seeing that it is a case of distress on the part of one of my countrymen, I would go at the first opportunity, on whatever pretence," returned the father, calmly.

"Well, then, you shall be off directly we finish dinner," answered Carroll, devoutly imploring Providence to come to his aid. "And--"

"And if that is done, I would have Deborah go with him," said Providence at once, speaking through Madam Trevor, "with a message to Miriam Vawse. 'Tis concerning the cherry brandy, Deborah. The last of hers was so excellent that I would have her make for us a keg this year. Tell her to take three trees of our fruit for it, and one tree for herself, which, together with two bushels of potatoes in the autumn, will pay for the making. You might learn her way of fermenting, while you are on the point. Then you may come back alone, if the father is not ready."

Come back! Yes, there must be a coming back. Dr. Carroll, however, was rubbing his satin knee in an ecstasy of good-humor; and Deborah herself, who, after a respectful bow to Madam Trevor, had shot one swift glance at the doctor, felt, as she returned to her conversation with young Charles, a curious quiver of the heart which she afterwards decided to have been one of the most delightful sensations ever known. A moment later Mrs. Appleby, who had left the room several moments before, entered with a little courtesy to announce dinner.

Once seated at the round, well-loaded table, conversation, by general assent, turned again to the Frenchman who had arrived on the _Baltimore_.

"As a matter of fact," confessed the doctor, willing to tell what he knew of the matter now, "it was I who sent him up to Mistress Vawse. I went down yesterday directly the ship was in, and, Croft having told me of the fellow, I got to see him. Faith, he was in a most execrable way! And besides, from what I could guess from his manner, and what Croft told me, he was a gentleman of rank. 'Twould have been pitiable enough to have had him die there on the docks; so I packed him, with my compliments, his box, and my black, up to Miriam, who had him in excellent shape when I went there this morning."

"Charles, really, you are monstrous disagreeable," ventured Mrs. Lettice, gently. "Why did you not bring the poor man here? I vow Miriam Vawse can never manage alone, and--"

"Nay, Lettice, he is too young for thee. Ten years ago 'twould have been a pretty enough romance, but--"

"Perhaps," struck in Madam Trevor, in time to prevent tears of mortification on the part of the little old maid, "perhaps I had better go, instead of Deborah. I might see the man, and find out--"

"Nay, now, Antoinette!" interrupted the doctor, in a great fright, while Deborah herself stirred a little anxiously, "you'll spoil all my purpose if you do that. Let Debby go on the cherry errand if she will, but you shall not see this Munseer till he's well and fit to receive you. Then, if he prove what I think him, I'll make him a dinner-party here, and he shall sit next to Virginia and opposite you, and you may study him at will."

"La! 'Twill be as bad for him as the time I had at the last assembly ball, when at supper I sat by old Master Randal, who cannot hear thunder, while on the other side was Carleton Jennings, who had next him Lora Colvill, that's to marry him in the autumn."

"And where was Sir Charles Fairfield?" queried little Mrs. Appleby, with unfortunate would-be slyness.

Madam Trevor's face changed suddenly, and Deborah colored.

"Sir Charles? Oh--with Debby, I believe," was Virginia's kindly, indifferent reply.

Thereupon St. Quentin, who had not been brought up in a cloister, looked approval at Miss Trevor, and adroitly changed the subject.

The meal coming to an end at length, the father immediately addressed Deborah on the subject of their visit:

"Miss Travis, my curiosity still burns. Will you take pity upon it and accompany me as soon as you can down to the ordinary?"

"I will come at once, if Madam Trevor permits," was the reply.

"Yes, get your hat and scarf, Deborah. In half an hour the coach will be here to drive us home. If the doctor will excuse your presence, you need not come back. We will stop for you on the way. You can wait in the sitting-room if Mistress Vawse is much occupied; for you would not, of course, go up-stairs."

Madam Trevor made the last remark in a tone that required no answer. Deborah merely courtesied and ran away for her hat; and, while the five ladies returned to the parlor, Dr. Carroll laid his hand on the priest's arm and said a few words to him in a low tone. St. Quentin raised his brows slightly, but gave no further sign of surprise. Then, as young Charles came loitering up, his father took possession of him, fearing that he might propose to accompany Deborah to the tavern. Five minutes later the priest and the young girl were on their way, Deborah with the warm phial, filled with her extract, pressing close over her steady heart.

St. Quentin spoke but once. "Dr. Carroll tells me that at his request you are to see this Frenchman," he observed, looking down at her; but he saw no sign of interest in her face as she answered, briefly:

"Yes."

As the two approached the quaint little building, with the small, swinging sign of "ordinary" over the door, its mistress, looking out of the window of the sick-room, witnessed the approach of her visitors. She ran quickly down-stairs to meet them, leaving her patient for the moment alone.

Claude was lying perfectly still on his clean colonial bed, conscious of nothing about him, vaguely feeling the change of air, perhaps, and the improvement of his surroundings over those of the dismal ship's cabin. But he was burning with fever, and, though the tossing of the vessel had got him into the habit of being still, he yet talked incessantly in his own language, while his wide-open eyes, roving aimlessly as they did, noted everything about him, and changed it into some familiar object of his rooms "at home." He saw Mistress Vawse leave the window, and cried after her anxiously:

"N'oubliez pas, chère Marquise, que vous m'avez promis le deuxième menuet!"

Then, through the stillness, came the murmur of voices from below. For an instant he listened intently. "Henri--tu es tard. Quelle heure est-il? Hein? Mesquin! Est-ce que votre Victorine est enfin moins cruelle?" Footsteps sounded on the stairs, but the sick man turned away his head impatiently. "Ne faites pas un tel bruit. Ma foi! J'ai une tête! Apportez-moi de l'eau, Chaumelle.--Ventre bleu!"

Claude sat suddenly up in bed with a new vision before his eyes. Very distinctly he beheld, entering the room, far in advance of his Marquise, and a step or two before some abbé, a floating picture of blue and white, with delicate ruffles, a matchless throat, grave bluish eyes, and hair neither dark nor light falling in confusion about two slender shoulders. More and more intently he sat and gazed, while his scattered senses strove at last to adjust themselves, and his breath came rapidly through his parted lips. Deborah, St. Quentin, and Miriam Vawse had stopped still, just as they entered the room. Deborah's eyes fell upon the rapt look of de Mailly, and were held spellbound. She scarcely saw what he was like, what were the color of the eyes she looked into, nor was she conscious of any part in the scene till Aimé St. Quentin quietly laid a hand upon her arm. She quivered and turned her head, till she beheld the priest's face. Then, suddenly realizing where she was, she passed her hand over her forehead and stepped slowly back, while the father, with an unreadable expression, advanced to the bedside, and Mistress Vawse, unable to comprehend just why she had stopped so long at the door, came into the room.

[Illustration: "CLAUDE SUDDENLY SAT UP IN BED"]

"You've some medicine, Miss Debby, the doctor told me," she said, going to the girl's side.

At the same moment Claude dropped back upon his pillows, muttering, with dry lips: "Du vin, Armand--pour l'amour de Dieu--du vin!"

Deborah looked up quickly, catching and understanding the words. "Have you something for him to drink?" she asked, before St. Quentin could speak.

"Ay. There's fresh water and a tankard here," responded Mistress Vawse, hurrying over to a small stand in one corner, where stood a pewter pitcher and mug.

"Then let me have the cup for a moment," said the girl, in a low voice, taking from her breast the little bottle of brownish liquid. Into the water which Dame Miriam brought, Deborah, with a steady hand, poured five drops of the _aconitum napellus_. "Now, make him take it--all," she said, recorking the phial.

St. Quentin took the cup and pressed it to the lips of de Mailly, who was still groaning with thirst. He drained the draught eagerly and lay back on his pillows murmuring thanks and closing his eyes for the first time since early morning. The priest, attracted by his manner and his face, lifted a chair to the bedside and sat down. Deborah, after looking at him once again, drew a long breath, and moved over to the window, when Miriam touched her arm.

"Leave the medicine here and come with me, Miss Debby, till I show you some of his things."

"What things? Wait. You must know about this, first. Never give him more than four drops in half a cup of water--and that not too often--twice a day, I think."

"Why? Is't dangerous?"

"Ten drops will kill an animal."

"Mercy on us! I'll be careful, then. But come, now, to the best room. There I've laid some of his things that were all rumpled with bad packing. My faith! Such satins and laces you never did see, and linen--as fine as your India muslin--and shoe-buckles!" With which information good Miriam led the way on tiptoe from the room, Deborah, half reluctantly, half eagerly, following her.

Across a narrow passage-way on the other side of the house was the "best bedroom" of the little old inn. Here, upon the high bed, carefully covered from the sun and any stray atom of dust with a clean linen sheet, lay half of Claude's wardrobe. As Mistress Vawse threw the cover aside Deborah uttered a little exclamation. Before her were the two court-suits of pink and white satin, with their delicate silver and silken embroidery, their elaborate waistcoats, point-lace ruffles, and silk stockings. Beside them lay orderly little piles of red-heeled slippers with paste buckles, linen shirts, a jewelled scabbard, two or three pins of diamonds, of which neither woman guessed the value, some rings, a white, three-cornered hat, two wigs, and an ivory snuff-box, in whose cover was the miniature of a woman, surrounded with pearls.

"How beautiful!" murmured Deborah, laying one finger gently on the embroidered pocket of the pink coat. "How beautiful! I have never seen aught like them."

"Nor I. Not on the Governor himself."

There was a silence as the two colonial women stood over the courtier's wardrobe, in this little bedroom of the far new world. Then again Deborah said, more to herself than to her companion:

"And the ladies--do they, too, have such things as these?"

"Oh, Miss Debby! Have you forgot Madam Trevor's wedding satin, with the veil and train? And the brocade she wore to the Governor's ball?"

But the girl shook her head impatiently. "Madam has nothing in the cedar chest so wonderful as this," she answered, lifting up a ruffle of Venice lace, as delicate as frost upon a window-pane. She looked at it lovingly for a long moment, and was about to replace it, when her eye fell on something which had lain beneath. It was a white kid glove, its back embroidered in tarnished gold and set with little blue stones, while in the centre of the arabesques was a crest, also in gold, unstudded. The girl turned it over, mechanically. Yes, there was something on the palm--the painting of a man's face and shoulders, a handsome face, if distorted a little by the brush; the face of a man comparatively young, something dull of expression, with a pair of great, sapphire blue eyes, and curling locks of bright gold tied loosely back, but unpowdered.

Deborah raised her eyes till they met those of Mistress Vawse.

"This--does not belong to him? Is not, I mean, a man's--gauntlet?"

"No, Miss Debby. When I took off his old suit yesterday, I found that glove pinned to his shirt on the left side, over--"

"His heart."

Mistress Vawse nodded. The glove dropped from Deborah's hand, and Father St. Quentin suddenly appeared at the door.

"The coach is coming, Deborah. Have you told Mistress Vawse of the cherries yet?"

"Oh no! I will as we go down."

"And how's the Frenchman, sir?"

The father smiled. "Luck is against my practice of French for the day, I fear. I must come to-morrow. It may be Mistress Deborah's medicine. He is sleeping like a child."