She was the Island beauty when Martel married her, and much sought after,
which made her present state the more bitter to contemplate. Her face was
whiter even than of late, at the moment, by reason of the dark circles of
suffering round her eyes and the white cloth bound round her head. She sat
up and looked at her father, with the patient expectancy of one who had
endured much and doubted still what might be in store for her.

Carré gripped the small boy's two hands in his big brown one, and the
youngster with a shout threw back his body and planted his feet on his
grandfather's leg, and walked up him until the strong right arm encircled
him and he was seated triumphantly in the crook of it. Whatever the old man
might have against his son-in-law there was no doubt as to his feeling for
the boy.

"He is gone," he said, with a grave nod, in response to his daughter's
questioning look. "But I misdoubt him. You had much better come with me to
Belfontaine for a time, Rachel."

She shook her head doubtfully.

"He's an angry man, and if he should get back--" said her father.

"In his right mind he would be sorry--"

"I misdoubt him," he said again, with a sombre nod. "I shall have no peace
if you are here all alone...."

But she shook her head dismally, with no sign of yielding.

"It has been very lonely," he said. "You and the boy--"