Major Vigoureux

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They were damp yet in patches, and these patches shone like metal
reflecting the greenish-blue spaces that showed between the clouds in
the heart of the gathering sunset. But along the fairway the sand lay
firm to the tread, yet soft to the look as a stretch of amber-coloured
velvet laid for their feet. Beyond rose Brefar, with its lower cliffs
in twilight, its rounded upper slopes one shining green. Vashti had
kilted her gown higher and helped the two girls to pin up their short
skirts. All had taken off their shoes and stockings, for here and there
a shallow channel must be waded.

They crossed without mishap, and, having shod themselves again, mounted
the turfy slope where the larks flew up from their hiding-places among
the stones. Vashti's talk was of the birds, for in all Brefar the spot
best worth visiting is Merriman's Head, where the birds congregate in
their thousands--cormorants, curlews, whimbrels, gulls and kittiwakes,
oyster-catchers, sandpipers--these all the year round--and in early
summer the razorbills and sea parrots. Zenobia, it appeared, knew not
only Merriman's Head, but every rock, down to the smallest and farthest
in the Off Islands, where these creatures nested. She spoke to them of
the island from which Annet took her name--a low-lying ridge to the
west of St. Ann's, curved like a snake, in nesting-time sheeted with
pink thrift. There the sea-parrots breed, and so thickly that you can
scarcely set foot ashore without plunging into their houses; but there
is a mound near the western end where no sea-parrot may come, for the
herring-gulls and the black-backs claim it for their own. She spoke of
Great Rose, still further westward, where the gulls encamp among the
ruined huts once used by the builders of the Monk Lighthouse; of Little
Rose, where the great cormorant is at home; of Melligan and Carregan,
the one favoured by shags, the other by razor-bills and guillemots. And
so talking, while they wondered, she brought them across the hill to
the great headland.

Merriman's Head, in truth, is itself an islet, being cut off from
Brefar by a channel, scarcely eight feet wide, through which the seas
rush darkly with horrible gurglings. The cleft goes down sheer, and was
cut, they say, with one stroke of a giant's sword. Beyond it the
headland rises grim and stark--a very Gibraltar of the birds, that
roost in regiments on its giddy ledges.

As the children came down to the brink a flock of white gulls seemed to
drop from the rock, hung in the air for a moment, and began wheeling
overhead in wide circles, uttering their strange cries. A score of
little oyster-catchers, too, tucked up their scarlet legs and skimmed
off in flight. But the majority kept their posts and looked down almost
disdainfully.

"They know we can't get to them," said Matthew Henry. "But wait till I
am grown up! Then I'll come over to Brefar and build a bridge."

"You will not need a bridge when you are grown up," said Vashti. "See!"
She stepped back a pace or two, and the children, before they guessed
her purpose, saw her flash past them and leap. She cleared the chasm,
easily alighted, and stood smiling back at them, while the birds poured
out from their ledges, cloud upon cloud of them. Their wings darkened
the air. Their uproar beat from cliff to cliff, and back again in
broken echoes, like waves caught in a narrow cave and rebounding.
Vashti looked up and laughed. Like a witch she stood, waving her arms
to them.

"It is easy," she called back to the children; "easy enough, if you
don't let the water frighten you. Why, Annet could jump it if she
dared. Annet ... but no, child! go back!"

But Annet, with a quick glance at her, and another at the water
swirling below, had set her teeth and stepped back half-a-dozen paces.
She would follow this woman, witch or no witch.

Linnet cried, too, and Matthew Henry. Vashti, stretching out both hands
to wave back the child, opened them suddenly to catch her--and not too
soon, for Annet alighted on a rock that sloped back towards the gulf,
and had measured her powers against the leap so narrowly that her heels
overhung the water and her body was bending backward when Vashti
gripped, and, dragging her up to firm ground, took her in both arms.

"But why? Why, Annet?"

"I don't know," Annet answered, almost stupidly. The danger past, she
felt faint of a sudden and dazed; nor could she understand what the
strange lady meant by embracing her again, almost with a sob, and
murmuring:

"The little water, and so hard to cross! But we had the courage,
Annet--you and I!"

She turned and lifted her voice in a long, full-throated cry, that sent
the birds flying in fresh circles from the eyries over which they were
poising; and before its echoes died between the cliffs a boat came
round the point--a boat with one man in it, and that man Major
Vigoureux.

At another time they might have wondered how a boat came here, and why
the Governor himself--whom they had seldom seen, but regarded from afar
with awe--should be in charge of it. But the afternoon had fed them
full with marvels. Here the great man was, and in a boat, and the
strange lady stood apparently in no awe of his greatness.

"The little ones are tired," said Vashti. "We will sail them home and
land them on Saaron."

The Commandant backed his boat skilfully into the passage between the
walls of rock, lifted the two younger ones on board, and then stretched
out a hand to the other shore to help Vashti and Annet. When all were
stowed, he pushed out for an offing, and hoisted his small lug-sail,
while Vashti took the tiller.

The breeze blew off the shore. The little boat heeled, flinging the
spray merrily from her bows. Beyond and under the slack of the sail a
golden sea stretched away to the dying sunset.

It was an enchanted hour, and it held the children silent. In silence
they were landed on the beach of West Porth, and climbed over the hill
to their house. From its summit they looked down upon a small sail
dancing through the sunken reefs towards the Roads, away into the
twilight where the sea lights already shone from the South Islands.

CHAPTER XIV

AFTER SERVICE

"They are good children," said Vashti, as she and the Commandant sat at
breakfast together next morning, which was Sunday.

The Commandant did not answer for a moment. He was stirring his tea, in
a brown study, nor did he note that Vashti's eyes were resting on him
with an amused smile. She supposed these fits of abstraction to be
habitual with him, due to living and taking his meals alone; but in
fact his thoughts were wrestling with two or three very urgent
problems. To begin with, he had plunged yet deeper in debt to Mr.
Tregaskis. The total, to be sure, amounted to something under
twenty-five shillings; but to a man with just one penny in his pocket
this left no choice but between recklessness and panic, and the
Commandant's spirits swung from one to the other like a pendulum. Panic
asserted itself in the small hours, when he awoke in his bed and
wondered what would happen when pay-day came, should it bring no pay
with it ... and to a man lying sleepless in the small hours, the worst
seems not only possible but likely. Then, as daylight waxed and he
awoke again from a short doze, to his surprise he found himself
absolutely reckless. As well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb! The
ordeal lay three days off, and in three days anything might happen; but
meanwhile this was certainly happening--a woman accomplished and
beautiful had stepped into his life and was changing all the colour of
it. He guessed the danger, put purposely averted his thoughts from it
and from the certainty of scandal. Archelaus, Treacher, Mrs.
Treacher--all three had been sworn to secrecy, and all three could be
trusted. These folks read no harm, nothing beyond an amusing mystery,
in Vashti's sojourn, and in particular she had made Mrs. Treacher her
obedient slave. Yet the secret must come out, and in spite of
Archelaus, who had brought his master's boat round and moored her
cunningly under the lee of the rocks overhung by the Keg of Butter
Battery. There, while the weather held, the Commandant and his guest
could slip away without fear of prying eyes and sail off among the
islands--as they had sailed off yesterday, Vashti sitting low and
covering herself with a spare-sail, until beyond sight of St. Lide's
quay and the houses on the slope. To be sure they had to reckon with
Mr. Rogers' telescope, or rather to leave it out of account. If Mr.
Rogers' telescope should prove indiscreet, Mr. Rogers must be let into
the secret, and might be relied on to join the conspiracy.

The Commandant, however, was in no hurry to share his happiness. Since
his youth he had made few friends, and in all his life had never known
comradeship with a woman. Suddenly, and as a well-spring in the desert,
Vashti had come into the dull round of his duty--his purposeless,
monotonous duty--to refresh it; nor perhaps were the waters less sweet
for the feeling that they were stolen. So he lived in the day, and put
off thinking of the inevitable end.

One thing only troubled his happiness. He foresaw that the end, when it
came, would mean for him something more serious than parting. He could
not have told why, but from the moment when Vashti had turned on him
and asked, "For what work do they pay you?" he had known that
henceforward his conscience would not sleep until he had made a clean
breast to the War Office and resigned his commission. It was not that
her question told him anything new; only that he saw himself judged in
her eyes, and in their light discovered that his conscience had been
tolerating what was really intolerable. Her departure, then, would mean
the end of all things; for on the very next day he would send in his
papers and face the world alone--the very next day, and not until then.
So much respite he gave himself; and this respite, and not the prospect
of parting, cast the only shade upon his happiness. For he felt that he
held her friendship on a false pretence; that if she knew the truth,
she would despise him. That is why the Commandant sat in a brown study.

"They are good children," repeated Vashti, "but like all other children
they know nothing of their elders' troubles. I remember that I was nine
or ten before ever it occurred to me that my father could have any
troubles.... Now from the top of the hill where those three youngsters
sat talking their fairy-tales, I looked over Cromwell's Sound and saw
their father, Eli Tregarthen, pulling across from Inniscaw. By the very
stoop of his shoulders over the paddles I seemed to read that the world
had gone wrong with the man, and when he beached his boat and walked up
the hill towards Saaron Farm, I felt sure of it. Of course you may
laugh and set it down to fancy, for the man was a good three-quarters
of a mile away."

The Commandant, however, did not laugh. "I think, very likely, you are
right," said he; "and the man had been over to Inniscaw to make a last
appeal to the Lord Proprietor."

"I wonder," mused Vashti, "if he is the sort of man to tell his wife?"

The Commandant pondered this and shook his head, meaning that he found
it hard to answer. "I know very little of Tregarthen. In manner, though
polite enough, he always struck me as reserved to the last degree."

"Men of that manner are often the frankest with their wives," said
Vashti; "though again, if you ask me how I know it, I must answer that
I can't tell you." She sat for a moment, her brows puckered with
thought; then, leaning forward, rested her elbows on the table, while
with eyes fixed seriously upon him she checked off the pros and cons on
her fingers. "On the one hand Eli Tregarthen, being a reserved man, and
brought up on Saaron, probably loves the island after a fashion that
Ruth understands very dimly if at all. I love my sister----"

The Commandant nodded.

"--But all the same I know where she is weak as well as where she is
strong. She never had that feeling for the Islands which helps me to
guess how her husband feels about Saaron. I can't explain it"--here
Vashti opened her palms and lowered them till her arms from the elbows
rested flat upon the table. "Perhaps I can't make you, who were not
born here, understand why it would be grief to me to think of being
buried in any other earth. But I expect that Eli Tregarthen feels it,
and feels that, if they uproot him from Saaron, his life will from that
moment become a different thing, in which he has not learnt--perhaps
never will learn--to take much interest. It's queer that, with just
this difference between us, Ruth should have been the one to stay
behind and I the one to go. But fate is queer.... Ruth is like her
namesake in the Bible; home for her is the roof covering those she
loves, and would be though she changed the Islands for the other end of
the world. Therefore," said Vashti, sagely, "if she feels for her
husband's trouble at all, it would be not as for a trouble that
afflicted them both equally; she would be sorry for him as she would be
if he were hurt or diseased. And you know that silent men, like
Tregarthen, when they are struck by disease, will sometimes hide it
from their wives to the last possible moment--will tell no one, but
least of all their wives."

"Yes, that is true," the Commandant agreed.

"On the other hand"--here Vashti resumed her checking--"Ruth has a
wonderful gift of coaxing people to confide in her even those things
they very much doubt her understanding. She used to get me to tell my
woes for the mere consolation of feeling her cheek against mine. She
had a wonderful knack, too, of obliging me to be open with her, without
ever asking it; and unless those children's faces and talk misled me
quite, they were formed in a house where the parents keep no secrets
from one another.... You can always tell."

This was news to the Commandant; and he admitted that, as an old
bachelor, he had never observed it.

"Always!" insisted Vashti, nodding. "They spoke of their father quite
as if he were one of themselves; which is not only rare, and not only
proves that Eli Tregarthen is a good man, but persuades me that, being
in trouble, he has told his wife."

"You are reasoning beyond my depths," said the Commandant. "But it all
sounds admirably wise, and I grant it. What next?"

"Why, if Eli has told her, she will be in trouble to-day and I must go
to her."

"To Saaron? This morning?"

"To Saaron, certainly; but not this morning, if you are engaged."

"To tell the truth I had meant to go to church; that is, if you can
spare me."

Simple man that he was, he had meant--having a load to lift presently
off his conscience--to receive and be confirmed by the Sacrament. "Ye
that do truly and earnestly repent"--the words had been in his ears at
the moment when he took his resolve. Hopeless though the prospect might
be, he steadfastly intended to lead a new life.

"My friend," said Vashti. "I am contrite enough already for the amount
of your time I have wasted. We will put off our voyage until the
evening."

He smiled wryly, remembering how she had asked, "For what work do they
pay you?"

But Vashti having decided upon an evening expedition, would not listen
to his offer to sacrifice his church-going; and so to church he went,
and confirmed himself, and remained to take the Sacrament on his new
resolution.

Now whether or not he would have remained could he have divined what
was happening on Garrison Hill I have no wish--as it would be
indecent--to inquire.

But let us go back to Miss Gabriel.

* * * * *

Miss Gabriel, all the previous day, had been suffering from a sense of
defeat, and at the hands of an enemy she had fallen into the habit of
despising. A woman (or a man, for that matter) of Miss Gabriel's temper
sees the world peopled with antagonists, and (perhaps fortunately for
her _amour propre_) cannot see that her occasional victor is not only
quite indifferent to his victory but has very possibly succeeded on the
mere strength of not caring two pins about it, or even on the mere
strength of not knowing that there was any fight going on. Such
insouciance would have galled Miss Gabriel past endurance had it not,
mercifully, lain outside her range of apprehension. As it was, she felt
that the Commandant had taken her easily, at a disadvantage, and routed
her--horse, foot, artillery, baggage.

And at the moment she had collapsed without a struggle. There lay the
sting. She had meekly thrown up her hand, though it held one
exceedingly strong trump. That woman in furs and diamonds.... Why had
she not insisted on the existence of her own eyes and held her ground,
demanding whence that woman came and what she did on Garrison Hill at
such an hour?

The longer Miss Gabriel thought of it--and she thought of it all the
next day--the more firmly she refused to believe herself the victim of
an hallucination. She lived frugally; her nerves and digestion were
alike in excellent order; in all her life she had never suffered from
faintness, and but once or twice from a headache. The keenness of her
eyesight was notorious, and she had a healthy contempt for anyone who
believed in ghosts.... Moreover, Charlotte Pope, though inclined now to
hedge about it, had undoubtedly seen the apparition.

"I wish, Elizabeth, you could find something else to talk about,"
pleaded Mrs. Pope, with a shiver. "You and I know everyone on the
Islands and there's no one in the least like--like what we saw; while
as for her jewels, they must have cost hundreds, if they were real."

"Ha!" exclaimed Miss Gabriel, with a decided sniff.

"I don't mean 'real' in that sense, Elizabeth; and I put it to you,
Where could she have come from?"

Miss Gabriel could not answer this, nor did she try. "Then you _did_
see her?" she was content to say.

"I--I thought I did."

"And I, Charlotte, am positive you did. Have you told your husband
about it?"

"Not yet."

"Don't, then. Between ourselves, my dear Charlotte, an idea has
occurred to me, and I fancy that if Major Vigoureux thinks he can
delude me with his painted hussies he will find himself mistaken!"

More, for the moment, Miss Gabriel would not disclose. But it is to be
feared that her design occupied her thoughts in church next morning to
the detriment of her spiritual benefit. The good folk of Garland Town
had--and still have--a pleasant custom of lingering outside the church
porch for a few minutes after service to exchange greetings and a
little mild gossip with their neighbours; and to Mr. and Mrs. Pope,
thus lingering, Miss Gabriel attached herself with an air that meant
business.

"Fine morning," said Miss Gabriel.

"The weather," assented Mr. Pope, clearing his throat, "is quite
remarkable for the time of year. As I was observing to Mrs. Fossell, a
moment ago, we might be in August month. Whether we attribute it or not
to the influence of the Gulf Stream, in the matter of temperature we
are wonderfully favoured."

"Quite so," said Miss Gabriel; "and I was about to propose our taking
advantage of it for a short stroll on Garrison Hill, to whet our
appetite." She heard Mrs. Pope gasp and went on hardily, "You and I,
Mr. Pope, can remember the time when all the rank and fashion of
Garland Town trooped up regularly after divine service to Garrison
Hill. 'Church parade,' we used to call it."

"Indeed yes, Miss Gabriel--and with the Garrison band playing before
us. Those were brave old days; and now I daresay that except for a
stray pair of lovers no one promenades on Garrison Hill from year's end
to year's end."

"It shocked me, the other night, to discover how completely I had
forgotten it."

"You had indeed, ha-ha!" laughed Mr. Pope, with a roguish glance at his
wife.

Miss Gabriel, too, glanced at her, and even more expressively. "Admire
my boldness," it seemed to say, "and oblige me by imitating it as well
as you can." Mrs. Pope began to tremble in her shoes.

"Oh, it was ridiculous! And I have a fancy to go over the ground again
and prove to you, and to ourselves, how ridiculous it was. Shall we?"

"With pleasure." Mr. Pope bowed and offered his arm. In Garland Town,
if you walked with two ladies it was _de rigueur_ to offer an arm to
each.

The stars in their courses seemed to be helping Miss Gabriel's design.
Her one anticipated difficulty--for she sought an interview with Mrs.
Treacher, to pump her in the presence and hearing of the Lord
Proprietor's agent--had been a possible interruption by the Commandant.
To her glee she had noted that the Commandant kept his seat after
service. For another thirty minutes at least the coast would be clear.

She had never a doubt of bribing Mrs. Treacher--or, to put it more
delicately, of inducing her to talk. Mrs. Treacher's manner had been
brusque the night before last; but Miss Gabriel's own manner was
brusque, whether to friend or to foe, and nice shades of address
escaped her. Mrs. Treacher was certainly poor, and with a poverty to
which a shilling meant a great deal. And Miss Gabriel had a shilling
ready in her pocket, as well as half-a-crown as a heroic resource in
case of unlooked-for obstinacy. But the shilling would almost certainly
suffice. Had not the donative antimacassar already established a claim
upon the Treachers' gratitude?

Again, the stars in their courses seemed to be fighting for Miss
Gabriel's design. For as the two ladies climbed the hill on Mr. Pope's
arm, and when they were almost abreast of the barrack door, who should
appear at the garden gate, on the opposite side of the road, but Mrs.
Treacher herself? Catching sight of the visitors she halted in startled
fashion, with her hand on the hasp of the gate.

"So few ever walk this way in these times," said Miss Gabriel, "I
declare we have frightened the poor woman. Mrs. Treacher!"--she lifted
her voice as she advanced.

"Ma'am."

"Mrs. Pope and I have been feeling not a little ashamed of ourselves
that at the time we did not--er--recognise your--your kindness to us
the other evening."

"Night, to be accyrate," said Mrs. Treacher, still interposing her
ample body between them and the entrance to the garden. "Didn't you?"

"You put yourself to some inconvenience on our account," pursued Miss
Gabriel; "and--and if you won't mind accepting--" Miss Gabriel held out
the smaller coin by way of finishing the sentence.

"What's that for?" asked Mrs. Treacher.

"The circumstances were so unusual, and in a way--ha, ha!--so
amusing----"

"Oh!" Mrs. Treacher interrupted. "Unusual, was they? I'm glad to hear
it."

"Why, of course, they were unusual," Miss Gabriel persisted, albeit a
trifle dashed; "and indeed so incredibly absurd that we have brought
Mr. Pope to hear your account of them; for, I assure you, he'll hardly
believe us."

Mrs. Treacher looked at Mr. Pope solemnly for the space of about ten
seconds, and then as solemnly at the ladies.

"_What_ won't he believe?"

"Why"--Miss Gabriel plucked up her courage--"there was so much that
afterwards, when we came to compare notes, neither of us could
explain--as, for instance, who was the strange lady that walked into
the room and was evidently surprised to see us, as we were naturally
surprised to see her-----"

Mrs. Treacher turned slowly again to Mr. Pope, whose face (since this
was the first he had heard of any strange lady) expressed no small
astonishment.

"Poor man!" she murmured, sympathetically, "did they really go so far
as all that?"

"I assure you--" began Mrs. Pope stammering.

"Oh, go your ways and take 'em home!" cut in Mrs. Treacher. "I'm a
friend to my sex in most matters; but to come askin' me to back up such
a tale as that, and for a shillin'!" She turned her palm over and let
the coin drop on the soil at her feet.

But here unhappily, at the height of Mrs. Treacher's indignation, a
sneeze sounded from a bush across the patch of garden; and the eyes of
her visitors, attracted by the sound, rested on an object which Mrs.
Treacher, by interposition of her shoulders, had been doing her best to
hide--a scarecrow standing unashamed in the midst of the garrison
potato patch--a scarecrow in a flaunting waistcoat of scarlet, green,
and yellow!

"My antimacassar!" gasped Miss Gabriel.

"The Lord Pro--" Mr. Pope checked the exclamation midway. "You will
excuse me, ma'am. I was referring to the lower part of the figure."

"Was ever such ingratitude?"

"It is worse, ma'am--ten times worse. You may call it sacrilege."

CHAPTER XV

BREFAR CHURCH

"It was all my fault," confessed Vashti.

"I was thinking so," said the Commandant, drily. "It had not occurred
to me that Archelaus and the Treachers were acting on their own
initiative."

Vashti laughed, and her laugh rippled over the waves to meet the sunset
gold. They had taken boat beneath the Keg of Butter Battery, and were
sailing for Saaron with a light breeze on their quarter. Evening and
Sabbath calm held the sky from its pale yellow verges up to the zenith
across which a few stray gulls were homing. From Garland Town, from St.
Ann's, from Brefar ahead of them, came wafted the sound of bells, far
and faint, ringing to church, and the murmuring water in the boat's
wake seemed to take up Vashti's laugh and echo it reproachfully, as she
checked herself with a glance at her companion's face, which also was
reproachful and sternly set, but with a slight twitch at the corners of
the mouth to betray it.

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