Marguerite De Roberval Part 7

He turned: their lips met, and so great was the revulsion of feeling that for a few moments neither could speak. But they were standing where they might have been observed either by the helmsman or the man on the lookout, and Claude presently drew her to the shadow of the forecastle.

Here they were sheltered from view, and could give themselves up to the rapture of being together once more. Neither noticed a dark figure crouched on the deck behind a spar not three feet away from them. It was Gaillon. He had seen Marguerite pa.s.s up the gangway, and knowing that Claude was on deck had followed, panther-like, to watch her movements.

His quick intelligence at once divined that if a meeting between the lovers had been planned, they would probably seek the shadow afforded by the forecastle; and in the few moments when their attention was wholly absorbed in each other he had noiselessly crawled across the deck, and concealed himself where he could overhear their every word.

Very little was said, but not a syllable escaped him. Marguerite, for the first time, allowed Claude to say hard things about her uncle. But even yet she tried to find excuses for him.

"O Claude," she said, "he is mad! I have watched him day by day, and would not believe it. But his violent ambition, and the thwarting to which it has been subjected, have unhinged his mind. I am hoping that the active life he must necessarily lead in Canada will restore his reason. But mad he is now, and for my sake bear with him and humour him.

He has been cruel to us, unkind to me, brutal to you, but he is not the uncle I once knew and loved. Surely his old nature will return when we are settled in our new home, and he will consent to our marriage."

Claude could not help thinking that there was small ground for encouragement, but he would not damp her sweet hopefulness. They talked a little longer in a more cheerful strain, each trying to raise the spirits of the other.

"Dear," said Claude, at last, "for your sake I will be patient and wait.

But you must not stay here. The watch may discover us; and your good name would become a by-word in our new colony. Say good-night to me and go."

The two held each other in a long embrace, which made up for weeks of separation.

"If ever you should want me," said Claude, "you will find me here--every night--at this hour. But do not come again unless you need me. There are men on board who would delight in making trouble for us with your uncle.

The snake-like eyes of that fellow Gaillon haunt me like a nightmare."

They separated. Marguerite returned to her cabin; and Claude, with a lighter heart, resumed his pacing of the deck, all unconscious that the eyes he had just described were watching him with a fiendish glitter which boded ill for his future.

At last he went below, and Gaillon crept out of the dark corner where he had lain crouched, afraid to stir for fear of attracting Claude's attention. As he emerged from his hiding-place, a hand was laid on his shoulder, and he found himself face to face with a young sailor from Picardy, Blaise Perron by name, an honest, kindly young fellow, who had noticed the black looks and skulking ways of the green-suited scoundrel, and had determined to keep an eye upon him.

"What are you doing here?" cried he, as he saw Gaillon crawl from behind the spar.

Gaillon replied with an oath, and an admonition to mind his own affairs, and let honest men alone.

"Honest men do not skulk in corners and watch other people's doings,"

replied the young fellow, who, however, had only just come on deck, and was ignorant of the scene between Claude and Marguerite. "Let me catch you plotting any villainy against the Sieur de Pontbriand, and I will throw you overboard first, and report afterwards."

Gaillon, seeing that his schemes were likely to be thwarted unless he exercised some caution, condescended to explain that he had fallen asleep in his corner, had only just awakened, and was on his way below to his berth. But as he descended the gangway he cast an evil look behind him on the young sailor at his post, and vowed that in his own time and way he would revenge himself upon him.

CHAPTER VII

Another week pa.s.sed, and with the change of the moon, as the old sailors on board had prophesied, came also a change in the weather. The wind rose steadily, and before long the staunch craft was creaking and groaning as she climbed the ocean billows or slid swiftly down their steep sides. By the evening of the 24th the wind had increased to a gale. All the upper sails had been hauled down, and the lower ones doubly reefed; but still an occasional wave fell with a mighty crash on the deck, swirled along the sides, and gurgled through the lee scuppers.

At midnight Claude, true to his promise, went on deck. He had, of course, no expectation of seeing Marguerite, but he had not failed to keep his word, and be at the appointed spot each night.

The storm was raging when he reached the deck. There was no rain, but the sky was covered with flying clouds, through which the waning moon burst fitfully, only to be immediately swallowed up again. The hungry waves rolled high above the little vessel, and seemed as if they would overwhelm her; but she gallantly ploughed along, feeling her way like a thing of life across the trackless waste of waters.

A sailor pa.s.sed Claude with a cheery "Good-night, Monsieur. A stormy night!"

As Claude returned his salute he recognised the young Picard, Blaise Perron, whom he knew well, and who had often performed slight services for him during his stay at De Roberval's castle. So great was the loneliness in which his life was plunged just now that he was grateful for the sound of a friendly voice, and returned the greeting with much heartiness, adding a kindly word or two as he pa.s.sed.

He made his way with difficulty across the slippery deck. The cordage sang a wild song about him, the spray leaped stinging against his face, and the vessel groaned in every plank and spar.

In the shelter of the forecastle there was comparative quiet and safety.

A figure wrapped in a cloak was standing in the deepest shadow, and moved towards him as he came up. He could hardly believe his senses. It was Marguerite!

"My love!" he exclaimed, folding her tenderly in his arms, and drawing her farther back into the shelter. "That you should be here, and in such a storm!"

As he spoke, a wave struck the vessel amidships, sent the spray in a shower over them, and fell with a great thud at their feet.

"That was a narrow escape," Claude went on. "Had we been a foot nearer the stern we should have been dashed against the bulwarks, and the whole ship would have known of our meeting here. But what has brought you out, my darling? Is anything wrong? I shudder when I think of the risks you must have run in getting here in this wind."

"The storm is glorious, Claude, and a little salt water will not hurt me. I could not stay below. You will think me foolish, but I had a dream about you--such a dreadful dream that I felt as if I must come to see that you were safe. I thought I saw you in the toils of a monstrous serpent. It had wound itself about you, and seemed to be crushing you in its folds. I tried to tear it off, but it seized you the closer; and as I stood back and gazed at it in horror it seemed to take the form and features of that wretched creature in green who follows my uncle about all day like a whipped cur."

"Sweetheart," said her lover, "it was a blessed dream, since it brought you to me. It gives me new life to see you. But I do not wonder that the sight of that fellow should give you nightmare. The first time I saw him I could not help christening him the sea-serpent. His baleful eye seems to be always upon me. If I should meet him to-night I should be tempted to send him back to the ocean depths from whence he looks as if he had but lately come."

"Dear, do not joke about him. I am not superst.i.tious, but I fear that man, and would have you be on your guard against him. It was to warn you about him that I risked coming to you to-night."

She was much agitated, and Claude soothed and comforted her, wrapping her cloak about her to shield her from the storm, and rea.s.suring her with promises and tender words.

While this scene was taking place on deck, a very different one was going on below, in Roberval's cabin. Gaillon, who must have been so const.i.tuted that he could do without sleep, had seen Marguerite leave her cabin and ascend the gangway. He knew that Claude had gone on deck, and there was no doubt that the lovers were together. Now was his chance. He stole to De Roberval's cabin, opened the door by some means best known to himself, and, entering, touched the sleeping n.o.bleman on the shoulder.

Roberval was on his feet in an instant, and a dagger flashed at Gaillon's throat. The man was prepared, however, and backed quickly towards the door, where the light from the pa.s.sage shone full upon his face. Roberval uttered an oath when he saw who it was.

"Dog of an a.s.sa.s.sin!" exclaimed he, "what brings you here?"

"If your most n.o.ble highness will let me speak," said Gaillon, cringing obsequiously, "I have important tidings which will not keep till morning. Your niece is not in her room."

"Villain!" roared De Roberval, "be careful what you say, or, by Heaven, I will run you through!"

"Your niece, most n.o.ble Sieur, has left her cabin, and is now on deck with her lover. They are in the habit of meeting thus at night. I would have warned you before, but dreaded to call down your anger on my own head. Even now I would have kept silence, but the honour of your house hangs in the balance."

Roberval appeared scarcely to hear the latter part of this speech. He had turned his back on Gaillon, and was rapidly donning some clothes.

In two minutes he was fully dressed, and, turning hastily round, exclaimed: "Who is the lookout to-night?"

"Blaise Perron, the Picard, Sieur. He has seen them together beyond a doubt, and is now keeping watch for them against intruders."

This was a lie, but Gaillon did not stick at trifles.

"Get rid of him for me," said Roberval shortly. "I care not how."

Gaillon chuckled to himself as he followed his master up the gangway.

His schemes were turning out successful beyond his wildest hopes.

"Let us steal along to windward, Sieur," he whispered. "They are on the lee side of the forecastle, and doubtless we shall come upon them in one another's arms."

The noise of the wind and waves drowned their footsteps, and they were able to approach unnoticed till they were within a few feet of the lovers. Claude had just succeeded in persuading Marguerite to go below and try to sleep. He had taken her in his arms at parting, and she clung to him with an earnestness born of her forebodings. It was thus that Roberval surprised them.

The first intimation they had of his presence was an oath which sounded suddenly out of the darkness. Claude leaped back and drew his rapier. De Roberval stood before him with drawn sword. Unable to stand by and witness a combat between her uncle and her lover, Marguerite threw herself between them.

"Consider, I beg of you, Monsieur," said Claude, hurriedly; "your niece's honour is at stake. If we attract the attention of the watch the fair name of a De Roberval will be for ever sullied."