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Updated: June 20, 2025
Perrin Corbet was tall and angular, without the slightest pretention to good looks, but with a fund of good nature and humour in his grey eyes, and when he smiled back at Ellenor a shy tenderness glorified his plain face into something far beyond mere beauty of feature. The men and Ellenor crossed the sandy cove and climbed the winding cliff path which led directly past the Grand Plough.
Your eyes once more beautiful with long eyelashes; your sad mouth! Ah, Ellenor, how can I speak to you like this quietly! I love you more than ever! But I know it is useless! Did you think I meant your looks when I spoke of what you had lost? Oh, no, I mean something else." "What is it you mean?" "That you have lost him you love, Dominic Le Mierre."
Quick, out with it, or else I'll call the other fellows in to help me to find out!" Perrin moved quite close behind the master, who was too angry to notice him. The girl lifted her eyes to Dominic. She spoke quietly. "I am Ellenor Cartier." "I might have guessed it, fool that I am! And you are a greater to think I would even look at you now! You must be quite mad.
It was the evening of the first Sunday in Lent. Jean Cartier, his wife, Mrs. Corbet and Perrin had been to church at Saint Pierre du Bois. It was dark as they entered the parish of Torteval, and Jean said in an anxious voice, "I suppose Ellenor has left Les Casquets by now?" His wife nudged him as if to say he had betrayed a secret: but it was too late. Mrs.
She had first thought of these rocks! She would fight for her rights! The splashing came nearer. She did not turn round. A scrambling sound followed; then she heard heavy steps mount the rocks. "Ellenor," said a well-known voice, "what luck to find you quite alone here!" It was Dominic Le Mierre, and it was the first time the two had met alone since his wedding day.
It was a lovely morning when Dominic stood before the altar in the old church of Saint Pierre du Bois and vowed to love and cherish fair Blaisette, a picture of sweet gentleness, and pretty coquetry in her fair white bridal gown. But the sun was black and the sky was lead to Ellenor, as she watched the bride and bridegroom walk down the aisle together, man and wife, arm in arm.
He had said, a few moments ago to Ellenor Cartier, the girl on the stairs, that he detested the veilles, but that he was bound to be present, as master of Orvillière Farm. He had added, moreover, a remark that had flooded Ellenor's heart with the joy that had caused her to creep away by herself into the darkness.
Dora's aunt, an aunt by the mother's side, a maiden aunt, who had never before been at the Black Islands, and whom Ormond had never seen, was to accompany Dora on her return to Corny Castle: our young hero had settled it in his head that this aunt must be something like Aunt Ellenor in Sir Charles Grandison; a stiff-backed, prim, precise, old-fashioned looking aunt.
Without further words, Ellenor coiled tighter the thick hair that looked too heavy for her small head, stuck through it a dull gold pin, and stepped out into the small garden. "It has stopped raining," she said sarcastically, "so who will go a little way, to see I don't cheat, but go, in reality, to the Haunted House?"
Ellenor faced her mother with rebellion in every feature of her face. "The girls have dared me to go to the Haunted House on this very night, and I'll go, mother, if I have to face the devil himself." Mrs. Cartier sighed. "Well, you must do as you please, it seems you always do!"
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