Sir Isumbras at the FordBroster, D. K. (Dorothy Kathleen)
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Sir Isumbras at the Ford
Broster, D. K. (Dorothy Kathleen)
English fiction -- 20th century; Historical fiction
"There was the Duc de Pontferrand; she refused him last October--just
at the time, Monsieur Augustin, when she was making inquiries about
you in London from the old gentleman whose name I cannot remember,
who lives with a little boy in Cavendish Square."
"I know she did that, God bless her!" said La Vireville. "I did not,
of course, know about the Duc." He fell silent, fingering the rail
and still gazing out to sea. It occurred to du Coudrais that though
he had the look of one who has weathered a long and trying illness,
he yet seemed in some indefinable way a younger man.
"Why should I not hire a boat and sail over to Sark?" asked La
Vireville suddenly. "My wooing must in any case be rough and ready.
I could be back before the _Cormorant_ sails, if I went at once."
"Ma foi, an excellent idea!" said Raymonde's brother heartily. "That
is, of course, the solution. I will procure you a boat, if you wish.
You must be sure to take a native with you, even though the distance
be not great, for sailing hereabouts is dangerous, if only on account
of the hidden rocks--'stones,' as they call them." He looked about
him. "There is Tom Le Pelley; he would serve your purpose."
(2)
A quarter of an hour later La Vireville was sailing over that
laughing expanse towards the gem of rose and emerald and flame,
whose beauty, though his eyes were set upon it all the while, he
hardly marked. The boatman spoke of channels and swift tides, of
the Anfroques, the Longue Pierre, the Goubinière, but names of
reefs and rocks went by La Vireville unheeded. He was going to put
to the test what Anne-Hilarion had shown him. He was liberated at
last from his servitude of mind, and he wanted Raymonde--wanted her
with all his heart. It was very strange to him now that he had not
known this when he was with her more than a year ago.
Du Coudrais had given him the name of the farm which Mme. de
Guéfontaine had gone to visit, and once landed he found it easily
enough, for there were not many of them on that slender strip of an
isle, pillared on its rocks and magic caves. But Raymonde was not
there, and they told him that she was out on one of the headlands.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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