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Updated: June 20, 2025
"I couldn't be angry with you, my darling! Even now, it seems I can't believe you're alive. We found your white roses, all wet and spoilt, in a hedge close to Rocquaine Bay; and, ah, how we feared, your father and me ... But, Ellenor, tell me, how is it you came here? And how was it you were on the rocks just when my boat passed."
He wanted her for his wife. He wanted her for the mother of his children. Ah, what a picture rose before him as his thoughts painted rapidly! A little cottage on the moorland; a rose red vraic fire; Ellenor seated in a low chair, beside her a cradle; on her lap, a little baby, with wide sad eyes like hers.
When Ellenor kissed little Marie and put her down with a gentleness unusual to herself, Perrin's thoughts rang of what she would be as a mother. His heart throbbed suddenly as he dared to drag to light a long-hidden secret kept hitherto from himself. He loved her. He had loved her from childhood, when he, a big clumsy boy, had taken her part, and fought her battles, at the parish school.
And yet if it does come to pass, there'll be no man prouder than me in the whole of Guernsey!" "But, if I am to be your wife, there'll be a condition." "Condition! You can make a hundred, dear Ellenor." "I don't know if you'll agree to this one, however!" "Of course I will! I promise you beforehand." "Promise! Promise! Quickly!"
No weird feasting followed the unconsecrated ceremony: only Dominic took refuge from sickening terror in a drunken bout. But Perrin stood long beside her grave: and prayed for the poor little woman so soon to be left alone in the island, henceforth to be haunted by her sad spirit. An hour after Blaisette's burial, Ellenor fainted while she was making preparations for leaving the house.
Added to her beauty was the attraction of a very desirable little fortune which she had already inherited from her mother, who was dead; and by and bye, Mess' Simon would leave her the farm and all his money, for she was an only child. She was disposed to be friendly with Ellenor, again an only child, the one treasure of Jean and Marie Cartier, of Les Casquets Cottage.
Jean dressed in particularly old clothes, and Mrs. Cartier chose out the shabbiest skirt she possessed, for they were preparing for a day of hard work on the beach. But, to their surprise, when they came down to breakfast, Ellenor wore a pretty gown of dark red stuff.
She gave an affected little scream and pretended to be shocked, but Dominic laughed all the louder, and cried to all the guests to drink her health. And all the while, Ellenor looked on with wide eyes of jealousy. In the presence of Dominic she forgot all goodness, all restraint, she only longed passionately to be in the place of Blaisette.
"Quick! get up, Ellenor, you must have overslept yourself!" cried Jean Cartier one morning in August, as he woke his daughter with a loud knocking on the partition between the attic bedrooms of the cottage. "It's all right, father," the girl called in reply, "I've been up there's a long time, but I am putting the roses round my hat. The breakfast will be ready as soon as you're down."
"So you've made up your mind to lose her, Perrin?" said Mrs. Corbet, as she and her son were at supper one spring evening. "Yes, there is nothing else to be done. Ellenor isn't a girl to treat me like that just for a bit of fun. At first, when she was just well of the small-pox, she was very kind to me.
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