raced the cross upon his breast--it almost seemed as if it
were outside upon his clothes, exposed to every eye, a shining thing all
fire, not a wound inside, for which old Margot prepared oiled linen now.
The parish was as perturbed as her own mind, for the mystery of the
stolen cross had never been cleared up, and a few still believed that
M'sieu' had taken it. They were of those who kept hinting at dark things
which would yet be worked upon the infidel in the tailor's shop. These
were they to whom the Curb's beautiful ambition did not appeal. He had
said that if the man were an infidel, then they must pray that he be
brought into the fold; but a few were still suspicious, and they said in
Rosalie's presence: "Where is the little cross? M'sieu' knows."
He did know. That was the worst of it. The cross was in her possession.
Was it not necessary, then, to quiet suspicion for his sake? She had
locked the relic away in a cupboard in her bedroom, and she carried the
key of it always in her pocket. Every day she went and looked at it,
as at some ghostly token. To her it was a symbol, not of supernatural
things, but of life in its new reality to her. It was M'sieu', it was
herself, it was their secret--she chafed inwardly that Margot should
share a part of that secret. If it were only between their two
selves--between M'sieu' and herself! If Margot--she paused suddenly,
for she was going to say, If Margot would only die! She was not wicked
enough to wish that; yet in the past few weeks she had found herself
capable of thinking things beyond the bounds of any past experience.
She found a solution at last. She would go to-night secretly and nail
the cross again on the church door, and so stop the chatter of evil
tongues. The moon set very early now, and as every one in Chaudiere was
supposed to be in bed by ten o'clock, the chances of not being seen were
in her favour. She received the final impetus to her resolution by a
quarrelsome and threatening remark of Jo Portugais to some sharp-tongued
gossip in the post-office. She was glad that Jo should defend M'sieu',
but she was jealous of his friendship for the tailor. Besides, did there
not appear to be a secret between Jo and M'sieu'? Was it not possible
that Jo knew where M'sieu' came from, and all about him? Of late Jo
had come in and gone out of the shop oftener than in the past, had even
brought her bunches of mosses for her flower-pots, the first budding
lilacs, and som
|