resolutely, and demanded that the boy should be sentback to the house to tell the gentleman that they would not start untilhe came.
"Kitty!" exclaimed her mother, in amazement.
But Kitty's eyes were shining with resolute determination. The _cure_,who perhaps understood more than they thought, smiled resignedly, andsheltered himself as best he could from the driving rain.
"We have been unjust, mother," said the girl, in a low voice.
Mrs Lascelles said nothing. Kitty was going her own way, and she wasunwilling to interfere. She was uneasy, but interested, and perhaps alittle amused; besides, it must be owned the sea looked so fierce thatshe was not sorry to have another man in the boat. Presently she sawEveritt coming towards them, quickening his pace when he perceived theywere waiting on the shore. Kitty did not draw back, as her motherexpected; she made a few steps to meet him, and said quietly--
"It would have been a great pity if you had stayed at that place allnight because you were afraid of overcrowding the boat. We hope youwill cross with us."
"Thank you," said Everitt, briefly. He wasted no more words, butoccupied himself in doing what he could to shelter them from rain: in afew moments the driving foam would be dashing over the boat. The oldboatman looked up and down uneasily; Everitt said certain words to him,and his face cleared. "We are going to wrap the heavy brown sail roundyou," Everitt added to Mrs Lascelles; "it can't be used in any otherway."
"The old man will never be able to row us across," she said, anxiously.
"I am going to help him," he said; "and, if necessary, I have no doubtthe _cure_ could bear a hand. All these Bretons are born sailors.Don't be alarmed. I hope a wetting will be your worst misfortune."
In spite of his cheery words, when they got out into the more open seathe waves ran so high, and the fierce pressure of the wind was sostrong, that Mrs Lascelles looked round her in terror. Their boatseemed as if it could be nothing but a plaything between these mightypowers. Now and then the priest murmured words which they could notdistinguish; the boy crouched, a brown heap, on a pile of brown nets inthe stern; the two men--the old and the young--with strong, set faces,worked steadily at their oars. Hard rowing was not necessary, for thewind swept them along; but there were cross currents, and these weredangerous seas; and the threatening gloom of the sky, touched here andthere with a lurid light, and the strong rush of the waves with theirscud of flying foam, made Mrs Lascelles glance at her daughter with atightening of her heart. As for Kitty herself, the girl sat leaning alittle forward. Her mother's hand had sought hers, and Kitty hadclasped it with both her own. Her hood had been blown a little backfrom her face, and her sweet eyes were fixed upon the shore towardswhich they were driving. Not a shadow of fear had touched them, as themother saw with a little sigh; nay, the next moment the girl turned andlooked at her with a smile.
Meanwhile, as they rapidly neared the shore, it became evident that someanxiety was aroused in the little village, for half a dozen men andwomen had collected near the landing-place, their figures blurred anddimmed by the rain and mist. Old Stevan, too, seemed uneasy. Hestopped rowing at last, just keeping the boat's course with his oar, andexchanged a few words with Everitt. The _cure_ bent forward and put aquestion; Mrs Lascelles tightened her clasp on Kitty's hand.
It was easy to see that the danger lay in attempting to land. Thelanding-place was merely a little run between rocks at the best oftimes, and at present, owing to the gale coming from rather an unusualpoint of the compass, such a surf was running as was rarely seen. Themen on shore yelled directions, which could not be distinguished in theboat. Old Stevan turned and for an instant surveyed the wild, tumblingmass before him; then he spoke to Everitt, who nodded, and the nextmoment the two men bent once more to their work, and it seemed to MrsLascelles that they were in such a whirl of tossing, raging waters thatthe boat must be swamped or stove in beyond hope of help. She clutchedKitty's hand, and even cried out, though she could not hear her ownvoice. The flying foam was over her head, beating at her face; she wasstunned, bewildered, almost senseless, when the boat was caught bystrong hands and drawn up into safety.
"Mother!" cried Kitty, looking at her with, for the first time, terrorin her eyes.
But it did not take Mrs Lascelles long to recover. Half a dozen handswere stretched to help her out of the boat, half full of water from theattack of the last wave, and she stumbled out, still grasping Kitty'sband. For the first time, the _cure_ addressed them.
"It has been a hazardous voyage," he remarked, "and,"--bowing toKitty--"mademoiselle has a great courage." Then he lifted his wet hatfrom his head, and marched away in his dripping clothes to the_presbytere_.
And now it was Everitt who, as it seemed to the girl, made everythingsmooth before them. The little village had little enough to boast of,but he had got them--in a shorter time than seemed possible--up to thesmall inn, where a good fire was lit in a room where they could drytheir clothes, and where the landlady provided them with stout fullskirts and warm stockings. Arrayed in these, and sitting over the fireuntil the carriage which was to take them to Auray was ready, MrsLascelles soon forgot the battering and drenching she had gone through--even began to smile at the recollection. And then she touched onanother subject.
"Kitty," she said, solemnly, "Mr Everitt must be forgiven."
"Forgiven!" The girl looked up with a proud glance in her eyes."Mother, I am ashamed to have thought so much about such a little thing.It was all kindness and good-nature on his part to save me fromdisappointment, and see how I returned it! When he wanted to explain,we would not even listen, or allow him the opportunity of settinghimself right. And now," she added passionately, "he comes and savesour lives, and so he is to be forgiven! Mother, you don't mean that!"
Mrs Lascelles felt more surprise than she showed. In the vehemence ofher speaking, Kitty had started up, and her mother laid her hand on herarm and drew her down again to her side. She spoke very quietly; no oneknew what a sharp pang preceded her words.
"My dear," she said, smiling--"my dear, how long have you felt this?"
Kitty looked at her.
"Ever since I knew that we had been unjust," she said, simply. "Ithink, almost from the first."
"Ah!" said Mrs Lascelles, slowly, and still smiling; "and that seems along while ago, doesn't it?" Then she stooped and kissed her. "Godbless you, my Kitty," she said, softly and earnestly.
The girl's eyes brightened.
"Then, mother, you will thank him, and not talk any more aboutforgiving?"
"No; that is certainly past," said Mrs Lascelles, still slowly; "and,as you say, I must thank him--as well as I can. I suppose," she added,following a little irresistible impulse, "that the _cure_ could havetaken his place?"
"No," said Kitty, earnestly, "no. Stevan told me himself that the_cure_ had not the strength. `If it had not been for the Englishgentleman, mademoiselle, the boat might not have weathered it.' Thosewere his very words."
Oh, Stevan, Stevan, had he too fathomed that wonderful secret!
"Ah!" Mrs Lascelles said again; "that of course decides it."
"Mother, you are sure you are not ill?" said the girl, anxiously.
There was a hesitation in her mother's words which made her uneasy, sounlike was it to her usual prompt and brisk decision. But she shook offthe question with more of her ordinary manner.
"Ill? Not in the least. It has been a little bewildering, that is all.The waves of the Atlantic do hit rather hard. I don't see any bell;shall we go down and find out if the carriage is ready?"
But at this moment there arrived two massive white cups full of steamingcoffee, and news that they might start whenever they wished. Everittwas waiting for them when they went down, and Mrs Lascelles went up tohim at once.
"Kitty," she said, cordially, "tells me I have been very ungrateful--indeed, that we have been ungrateful all through, at any rate now, whenit appears we owe you our lives."
He coloured.
> "Your lives!" he repeated, in amazement.
"Yes, indeed," she said, smiling; "and you mustn't say it's nothing,because at this moment it seems to me a very great deal."
"But there is a great mistake. Who could have told you anything sopreposterous? I am much obliged to you for finding myself on the rightside of the water."
"Well," she said, "we will each keep our private views on the matter.Now, tell me, what are you going to do?"
He hesitated.
"I am going to walk to Auray, and--take the train back to Paris."
"No," she replied, shaking her head; "we will drive you to Auray.