CHAPTER VI
With the coming of dawn the storm passed away northwards, across a seasnow-flecked and still panting with its fury, and leaving behind manytraces of its violence, even upon these waste and empty places. A luridsunrise gave little promise of better weather, but by six o'clock thewind had fallen, and the full tide was swelling the creeks. On asand-bank, far down amongst the marshes, Jeanne stood hatless, with herhair streaming in the breeze, her face turned seaward, her eyes full ofan unexpected joy. Everywhere she saw traces of the havoc wrought inthe night. The tall rushes lay broken and prostrate upon the ground;the beach was strewn with timber from the breaking up of an ancientwreck. Eyes more accustomed than hers to the outline of the countrycould have seen inland dismantled cottages and unroofed sheds, groupsof still frightened and restive cattle, a snapped flagstaff, a fallentree. But Jeanne knew none of these things. Her face was turned towardsthe ocean and the rising sun. She felt the sting of the sea wind uponher cheeks, all the nameless exhilaration of the early morningsweetness. Far out seaward the long breakers, snow-flecked and whitecrested, came rolling in with a long, monotonous murmur toward theland. Above, the grey sky was changing into blue. Almost directly overher head, rising higher and higher in little circles, a lark wassinging. Jeanne half closed her eyes and stood still, engrossed by theunexpected beauty of her surroundings. Then suddenly a voice cametravelling to her from across the marshes.
She turned round unwillingly, and with a vague feeling of irritationagainst this interruption, which seemed to her so inopportune, and inturning round she realized at once that her period of absorption musthave lasted a good deal longer than she had had any idea of. She hadwalked straight across the marshes towards the little hillock on whichshe stood, but the way by which she had come was no longer visible. Theswelling tide had circled round through some unseen channel, and wascreeping now into the land by many creeks and narrow ways. She herselfwas upon an island, cut off from the dry land by a smoothly flowingtidal way more than twenty yards across. Along it a man in aflat-bottomed boat was punting his way towards her. She stood andwaited for him, admiring his height, and the long powerful strokes withwhich he propelled his clumsy craft. He was very tall, and against theflat background his height seemed almost abnormal. As soon as he hadattracted her attention he ceased to shout, and devoted all hisattention to reaching her quickly. Nevertheless, the salt water waswithin a few feet of her when he drove his pole into the bottom, andbrought the punt to a momentary standstill. She looked down at him,smiling.
"Shall I get in?" she asked.
"Unless you are thinking of swimming back," he answered drily, "itwould be as well."
She lifted her skirts a little, and laughed at the inappropriateness ofher thin shoes and open-work stockings. Andrew de la Borne held out hisstrong hand, and she sprang lightly on to the broad seat.
"It is very nice of you," she said, with her slight foreign accent, "tocome and fetch me. Should I have been drowned?"
"No!" he answered. "As a matter of fact, the spot where you werestanding is not often altogether submerged. You might have been aprisoner for a few hours. Perhaps as the tide is going to be high, yourfeet would have been wet. But there was no danger."
She settled down as comfortably as possible in the awkward seat.
"After all, then," she said, "this is not a real adventure. Where areyou going to take me to?"
"I can only take you," he answered, "to the village. I suppose you camefrom the Hall?"
"Yes!" she answered. "I walked straight across from the gate. I neverthought about the tide coming up here."
"You will have to walk back by the road," he answered. "It is a gooddeal further round, but there is no other way."
She hung her hand over the side, rejoicing in the touch of the coolsoft water.
"That," she answered, "does not matter at all. It is very early still,and I do not fancy that any one will be up yet for several hours."
He made no further attempt at conversation, devoting himself entirelyto the task of steering and propelling his clumsy craft along thenarrow way. She found herself watching him with some curiosity. It hadnever occurred to her to doubt at first but that he was some fishermanfrom the village, for he wore a rough jersey and a pair of trouserstucked into sea-boots. His face was bronzed, and his hands were largeand brown. Nevertheless she saw that his features were good, and hisvoice, though he spoke the dialect of the country, had about it somequality which she was not slow to recognize.
"Who are you?" she asked, a little curiously. "Do you live in thevillage?"
He looked down at her with a faint smile.
"I live in the village," he answered, "and my name is Andrew."
"Are you a fisherman?" she asked.
"Certainly," he answered gravely. "We are all fishermen here."
She was not altogether satisfied. He spoke to her easily, and withoutany sort of embarrassment. His words were civil enough, and yet he hadmore the air of one addressing an equal than a villager who is able tobe of service to some one in an altogether different social sphere.
"It was very fortunate for me," she said, "that you saw me. Are you upat this hour every morning?"
"Generally," he answered. "I was thinking of fishing, higher up in thereaches there."
"I am sorry," she said, "that I spoiled your sport."
He did not answer at once. He, in his turn, was looking at her. In hertailor-made gown, short and fashionably cut, her silk stockings andhigh-heeled shoes, she certainly seemed far indeed removed from any ofthe women of those parts. Her dark hair was arranged after a fashionthat was strange to him. Her delicately pale skin, her deep grey eyes,and unusually scarlet lips were all indications of her foreignextraction. He looked at her long and searchingly. This was the girl,then, whom his brother was hoping to marry.
"You are not English," he remarked, a little abruptly.
She shook her head.
"My father was a Portuguese," she said, "and my mother French. I wasborn in England, though. You, I suppose, have lived here all your life?"
"All my life," he repeated. "We villagers, you see, have not muchopportunity for travel."
"But I am not sure," she said, looking at him a little doubtfully,"that you are a villager."
"I can assure you," he answered, "that there is no doubt whatever aboutit. Can you see out yonder a little house on the island there?"
She followed his outstretched finger.
"Of course I can," she answered. "Is that your home?"
He nodded.
"I am there most of my time," he answered.
"It looks charming," she said, a little doubtfully, "but isn't itlonely?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"Perhaps," he answered. "I am only ten minutes' sail from the mainland,though."
She looked again at the house, long and low, with its plaster wallsbare of any creeping thing.
"It must be rather fascinating," she admitted, "to live upon an island.Are you married?"
"No!" he answered.
"Do you mean that you live quite alone?" she asked.
He smiled down upon her as one might smile at an inquisitive child. "Ihave a ser--some one to look after me," he said. "Except for that I amquite alone. I am going to set you ashore here. You see those telegraphposts? That is the road which leads direct to the Hall."
She was still looking at the island, watching the waves break against alittle stretch of pebbly beach.
"I should like very much," she said, "to see that house. Can you nottake me out there?"
He shook his head.
"We could not get so far in this punt," he said, "and my sailing boatis up at the village quay, more than a mile away."
She frowned a little. She was not used to having any request of hersdisregarded.
"Could we not go to the village," she asked, "and change into yourboat?"
He shook his head.
"I am going fishing," he said, "in a different direction. Allow me."
He stepped on to land and lifted her out. She hesitated for a momentand felt for her purse.
"You must let me recompense you," she said coldly, "for the time youhave lost in coming to my assistance."
He looked down at her, and again she had an uncomfortable sense thatnotwithstanding his rude clothes and country dialect, this man was noordinary villager. He said nothing, however, until she produced herpurse, and held out a little tentatively two half-crowns.
"You are very kind," he said. "I will take one if you will allow me.That is quite sufficient. You see the Hall behind the trees there. Youcannot miss your way, I think, and if you will take my advice you willnot wander about in the marshes here except at high tide. The sea comesin to the most unexpected places, and very quickly, too, sometimes.Good morning!"
"Good morning, and thank you very much," she answered, turning awaytoward the road.
* * * * *
Cecil de la Borne was standing at the end of the drive when sheappeared, a telescope in his hand. He came hastily down the road tomeet her, a very slim and elegant figure in his well-cut flannelclothes, smoothly brushed hair, and irreproachable tie.
"My dear Miss Jeanne," he exclaimed, "I have only just heard that youwere out. Do you generally get up in the middle of the night?"
She smiled a little half-heartedly. It was curious that she foundherself contrasting for a moment this very elegant young man with herroughly dressed companion of a few minutes ago.
"To meet with an adventure such as I have had," she answered, "I wouldnever go to bed at all. I have been nearly drowned, and rescued by amost marvellous person. He brought me back to safety in a flat-bottomedpunt, and I am quite sure from the way he stared at them that he hadnever seen open-work stockings before."
"Are you in earnest?" Cecil asked doubtfully.
"Absolutely," she answered. "I was walking there among the marshes, andI suddenly found myself surrounded by the sea. The tide had come upbehind me without my noticing. A most mysterious person came to myrescue. He wore the clothes of a fisherman, and he accepted half acrown, but I have my doubts about him even now. He said that his namewas Mr. Andrew."
Cecil opened the gate and they walked up towards the house. A slightfrown had appeared upon his forehead.
"Do you know him?" she asked.
"I know who he is," he answered. "He is a queer sort of fellow, livesall alone, and is a bit cranky, they say. Come in and have somebreakfast. I don't suppose that any one else will be down for ages."
She shook her head.
"I will send my woman down for some coffee," she answered. "I am goingupstairs to change. I am just a little wet, and I must try and findsome thicker shoes."
Cecil sighed.
"One sees so little of you," he murmured, "and I was looking forward toa tete-a-tete breakfast."
She shook her head as she left him in the hall.
"I couldn't think of it," she declared. "I'll appear with the otherslater on. Please find out all you can about Mr. Andrew and tell me."
Cecil turned away, and his face grew darker as he crossed the hall.
"If Andrew interferes this time," he muttered, "there will be trouble!"
Jeanne of the Marshes Page 6
