mother, I'm sure, and, in case even he is good friends
with the devil, it's all the worse for the girl that loves him."

"Bah! I've no patience with Ellenor. Le Mierre is a bad man. She
knows that as well as you and me do, and yet ... she loves him.
Well, well, women are poor fools. But, come, Perrin, isn't there any
other girl that would do except Ellenor? There's hundreds nicer than
her, and hundreds prettier--specially now."

"If she won't have me, I'll never marry. That's the end of it,
mother."

Mrs. Corbet sighed as she heaped up the supper things for Perrin to
wash. Such a good, kind son as he was, and to be made a fool of by a
self-willed girl like Ellenor!

"It seems I haven't seen Le Mierre for a long time," she went on.

"He's been away ever since his wife's death. It was said everywhere,
in the two parishes and even to Saint Pierre Port that he went off
because of poor Blaisette. She came again and again to Orvilliere
like a white sea-gull, crying and flapping her wings against his
bedroom window. Her spirit can't rest it seems, because of his
wickedness. But, now, I've been told this very day, that he's back
to Guernsey: and some there are who say he's been making love to
girls in Jersey."

"If only he'd had brought one back as his wife, that foolish Ellenor
of yours would have stopped hankering after him!"

"I don't believe he'll marry her, because she is poor and of no
family: _besides_ ..."

"You may well say _besides_, poor girl! But, come, my son, I am
tired, I must go to bed."

Rumour was quite correct in giving one of the reasons for Le
Mierre's departure to Jersey. He told everyone how he was bothered
by the spirit of Blaisette; but he did not add that abject terror of
small-pox made him decide to spend some months with well-to-do
relations in Jersey, which was quite exempt from the horrible
disease.

It was just before Lent when he came home to find a very bleak
springtime keeping back the flowers in his garden at Orvilliere.
With relief, after the first night, he told his housekeeper that the
spirit of Blaisette had gone, evidently for good. The woman, a
devout Roman Catholic, muttered behind his back.

"She's got enough to do, praying for you in Purgatory, poor soul, if
she's allowed to think of such a black heart as yours! The Blessed
Angels and Saints know how it would discourage her to come back to
see you as bad as ever, and it's _my_ belief, worse!"

The tragic death of Blai