Rose à Charlitte

  CHAPTER XII.

  BIDIANE FALLS IN A RIVER.

  "He laid a finger under her chin, His arm for her girdle at waist was thrown; Now, what will happen, and who will win, With me in the fight and my lady-love?

  "Sleek as a lizard at round of a stone, The look of her heart slipped out and in. Sweet on her lord her soft eyes shone, As innocents clear of a shade of sin."

  GEORGE MEREDITH.

  Five minutes later, Agapit left Rose, and, coming out-of-doors, staredabout for his horse, Turenne, who was nowhere to be seen.

  While he stood momentarily expecting to see the big, familiar whiteshape loom up through the darkness, he fancied that he heard some onecalling his name.

  He turned his head towards the river. There was a fine, soft windblowing, the sky was dull and moist, and, although the rain had ceasedfor a time, it was evidently going to fall again. Surely he had beenmistaken about hearing his name, unless Turenne had suddenly beengifted with the power of speech. No,--there it was again; and now hediscovered that it was uttered in the voice that, of all the voices inthe world, he loved best to hear, and it was at present ejaculating, inperemptory and impatient tones, "Agapit! Agapit!"

  He precipitated himself down the hill, peering through the darkness ashe went, and on the way running afoul of his white nag, who stoodstaring with stolid interest at a small round head beside the bridge,and two white hands that were clinging to its rustic foundations.

  "Do help me out," said Bidiane; "my feet are quite wet."

  Agapit uttered a confused, smothered exclamation, and, stooping over,seized her firmly by the shoulders, and drew her out from the clingingembrace of Sleeping Water.

  "I never saw such a river," said Bidiane, shaking herself like a smallwet dog, and avoiding her lover's shocked glance. "It is just likejelly."

  "Come up to the house," he ejaculated.

  "No, no; it would only frighten Rose. She is getting to dislike thisriver, for people talk so much against it. I will go home."

  "Then let me put you on Turenne's back," said Agapit, pointing to hishorse as he stood curiously regarding them.

  "No, I might fall off--I have had enough frights for to-night," and sheshuddered. "I shall run home. I never take cold. _Ma foi!_ but it isgood to be out of that slippery mud."

  Agapit hurried along beside her. "How did it happen?"

  "I was just going to cross the bridge. The river looked so sleepy andquiet, and so like a mirror, that I wondered if I could see my face, ifI bent close to it. I stepped on the bank, and it gave way under me, andthen I fell in; and to save myself from being sucked down I clung to thebridge, and waited for you to come, for I didn't seem to have strengthto drag myself out."

  Agapit could not speak for a time. He was struggling with an intenseemotion that would have been unintelligible to her if he had expressedit. At last he said, "How did you know that I was here?"

  "I saw you," said Bidiane, and she slightly slackened her pace, andglanced at him from the corners of her eyes.

  "Through the window?"

  "Yes."

  "Why did you not come in?"

  "I did not wish to do so."

  "You are jealous," he exclaimed, and he endeavored to take her hand.

  "Let my hand alone,--you flatter yourself."

  "You were frightened there in the river, little one," he murmured.

  Bidiane paused for an instant, and gazed over her shoulder. "Your oldhorse is nearly on my heels, and his eyes are like carriage lamps."

  "Back!" exclaimed Agapit, to the curious and irrepressible Turenne.

  "You say nothing of your election," remarked Bidiane. "Are you glad?"

  He drew a rapid breath, and turned his red face towards her again. "Mymind is in a whirl, little cousin, and my pulses are going like hammers.You do not know what it is to sway men by the tongue. When one standsup, and speaks, and the human faces spreading out like a flower-bedchange and lighten, or grow gloomy, as one wishes, it is majestic,--itmakes a man feel like a deity."

  "You will get on in the world," said Bidiane, impulsively. "You have itin you."

  "But must I go alone?" he said, passionately. "Bidiane, you, though somuch younger, you understand me. I have been happy to-day, yes, happy,for amid all the excitement, the changing faces, the buzzing of talk inmy ears, there has been one little countenance before me--"

  "Yes,--Rose's."

  "You treat me as if I were a boy," he said, vehemently, "on this daywhen I was so important. Why are you so flippant?"

  "Don't be angry with me," she said, coaxingly.

  "Angry," he muttered, in a shocked voice. "I am not angry. How could Ibe with you, whom I love so much?"

  "Easily," she murmured. "I scarcely wished to see you to-day. I almostdreaded to hear you had been elected, for I thought you would be angrybecause we--because Claudine, and my aunt, and I, talked against Mr.Greening, and drove him out, and suggested you. I know men don't like tobe helped by women."

  "Your efforts counted," he said, patiently, and yet with desperatehaste, for they were rapidly nearing the inn, "yet you know SleepingWater is a small district, and the county is large. There was in someplaces great dissatisfaction with Mr. Greening, but don't talk of him.My dear one, will you--"

  "You don't know the worst thing about me," she interrupted, in a lowvoice. "There was one dreadful thing I did."

  He checked an oncoming flow of endearing words, and stared at her. "Youhave been flirting," he said at last.

  "Worse than that," she said, shamefacedly. "If you say first that youwill forgive me, I will tell you about it--no, I will not either. Ishall just tell you, and if you don't want to overlook it you neednot--why, what is the matter with you?"

  "Nothing, nothing," he muttered, with an averted face. He had suddenlybecome as rigid as marble, and Bidiane surveyed him in bewilderedsurprise, until a sudden illumination broke over her, when she lapsedinto nervous amusement.

  "You have always been very kind to me, very interested," she said, withthe utmost gentleness and sweetness; "surely you are not going to losepatience now."

  "Go on," said Agapit, stonily, "tell me about this--this escapade."

  "How bad a thing would I have to do for you not to forgive me?" sheasked.

  "Bidiane--_de grace_, continue."

  "But I want to know," she said, persistently. "Suppose I had justmurdered some one, and had not a friend in the world, would you stand byme?"

  He would not reply to her, and she went on, "I know you think a gooddeal of your honor, but the world is full of bad people. Some one oughtto love them--if you were going to be hanged to-morrow I would visit youin your cell. I would take you flowers and something to eat, and I mighteven go to the scaffold with you."

  Agapit in dumb anguish, and scarcely knowing what he did, snatched hishat from his head and swung it to and fro.

  "You had better put on your hat," she said, amiably, "you will takecold."

  Agapit, suddenly seized her by the shoulders and, holding her firmly,but gently, stared into her eyes that were full of tears. "Ah! you amuseyourself by torturing me," he said, with a groan of relief. "You are aspure as a snowdrop, you have not been flirting."

  "Oh, I am so angry with you for being hateful and suspicious," she said,proudly, and with a heaving bosom, and she averted her face to brush thetears from her eyes. "You know I don't care a rap for any man in theworld but Mr. Nimmo, except the tiniest atom of respect for you."

  Agapit at once broke into abject apologies, and being graciouslyforgiven, he humbly entreated her to continue the recital of hermisdeeds.

  "It was when we began to make _bombance_" she said, in a lofty tone."Every one assured us that we must have rum, but Claudine would not letus take her money for it, because her husband drank until he made hishead queer and had that dreadful fall. She said to buy anythin
g with hermoney but liquor. We didn't know what to do until one day a man came inand told us that if we wanted money we should go to the rich members ofour party. He mentioned Mr. Smith, in Weymouth, and I said, 'Well, Iwill go and ask him for money to buy something for these wicked men tostop them from voting for a wretch who calls us names.' 'But you mustnot say that,' replied the man, and he laughed. 'You must go to Mr.Smith and say, "There is an election coming on, and there will be greatdoings at the Sleeping Water Inn, and it ought to be painted."' 'But ithas just been painted,' I said. 'Never mind,' he told me, 'it must bepainted.' Then I understood, and Claudine and I went to Mr. Smith, andasked him if it would not be a wise thing to paint the inn, and helaughed and said, 'By all manner of means, yes,--give it a good thickcoat and make it stick on well,' and he gave us some bills."

  "How many?" asked Agapit, for Bidiane's voice was sinking lower andlower.

  "One hundred dollars,--just what Claudine had."

  "And you spent it, dearest child?"

  "Yes, it just melted away. You know how money goes. But I shall pay itback some day."

  "How will you get the money?"

  "I don't know," she said, with a sigh. "I shall try to earn it."

  "You may earn it now, in the quarter of a minute," he said, fatuously.

  "And you call yourself an honest man--you talk against bribery andcorruption, you doubt poor lonely orphans when they are going toconfess little peccadilloes, and fancy in your wicked heart that theyhave committed some awful sin!" said Bidiane, in low, withering tones."I think you had better go home, sir."

  They had arrived in front of the inn, and, although Agapit knew that sheought to go at once and put off her wet shoes, he still lingered, andsaid, delightedly, in low, cautious tones, "But, Bidiane, you havesurely a little affection for me--and one short kiss--veryshort--certainly it would not be so wicked."

  "If you do not love a man, it is a crime to embrace him," she said, withcold severity.

  "Then I look forward to more gracious times," he replied. "Good night,little one, in twenty minutes I must be in Belliveau's Cove."

  Bidiane, strangely subdued in appearance, stood watching him as, witheyes riveted on her, he extended a grasping hand towards Turenne'shanging bridle. When he caught it he leaped into the saddle, andBidiane, supposing herself to be rid of him, mischievously blew him akiss from the tips of her fingers.

  In a trice he had thrown himself from Turenne's back and had caught heras she started to run swiftly to the house.

  "Do not squeal, dear slippery eel," he said, laughingly, "thou hastcalled me back, and I shall kiss thee. Now go," and he released her, asshe struggled in his embrace, laughing for the first time since hercapture by the river. "Once I have held you in my arms--now you willcome again," and shaking his head and with many a backward glance, heset off through the rain and the darkness towards his waiting friendsand supporters, a few miles farther on.

  An hour later, Claudine left the vivacious, unwearied revellers below,and went up-stairs to see whether Bidiane had returned home. She foundher in bed, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling.

  "Claudine," she said, turning her brown eyes on her friend and admirer,"how did you feel when Isidore asked you to marry him?"

  "How did I feel--_misericorde_, how can I tell? For one thing, I wishedthat he would give up the drink."

  "But how did you feel towards him?" asked Bidiane, curiously. "Was itlike being lost in a big river, and swimming about for ages, and havingnoises in your head, and some one else was swimming about trying to findyou, and you couldn't touch his hand for a long time, and then hedragged you out to the shore, which was the shore of matrimony?"

  Claudine, who found nothing in the world more delectable than Bidiane'sfancies, giggled with delight. Then she asked her where she had spentthe evening.

  Bidiane related her adventure, whereupon Claudine said, dryly, "I guessthe other person in your river must be Agapit LeNoir."

  "Would you marry him if he asked you?" said Bidiane.

  "Mercy, how do I know--has he said anything of me?"

  "No, no," replied Bidiane, hastily. "He wants to marry me."

  "That's what I thought," said Claudine, soberly. "I can't tell you whatlove is. You can't talk it. I guess he'll teach you if you give him achance. He's a good man, Bidiane. You'd better take him--it's an openingfor you, too. He'll get on out in the world."

  Bidiane laid her head back on her pillow, and slipped again into a hazy,dreamy condition of mind, in which the ever recurring subject ofmeditation was the one of the proper experience and manifestation oflove between men and the women they adore.

  "I don't love him, yet what makes me so cross when he looks at anotherwoman, even my beloved Rose?" she murmured; and with this puzzlingquestion bravely to the fore she fell asleep.