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Updated: May 31, 2025
She had sung at their wedding, a little thing of seven years old; and old De Arthenay had played, and wished them happiness, and said they were the handsomest couple he had played for that year. Now she looked so tired: how was it that he had never seen how tired she looked? Perhaps she was only sick or nervous that day when she spoke so.
She hastened into the house; and in a few minutes the blinds were thrown back, and Miss Rejoice's sweet voice was heard, saying, "Good-day, Mr. De Arthenay. It is always a good day that brings you." The old man sprang up from his seat in the porch, and made a low bow to the window. "It's a treat to hear your voice, Miss Rejoice, so it is," he said heartily.
This was the man who happened to come into the street on some errand, that soft summer evening, at the very moment when Marie was feeling lifted up by the light of joy in the children's faces, and was telling herself how good it was that she had come this way. Hearing the sound of the fiddle, De Arthenay stopped for a moment, and his face grew dark as night.
At Arthenay there is but small opportunity of learning what happens outside, and it may be that I shall have to travel to Havre to obtain news of him; although I am troubled greatly by the fear that his ship has been lost, or captured by the English. We have never been in Paris before, and my brother naturally wishes to stay a short time, to see the sights." Madame Tourrier shook her head.
"I hope your health's been pretty good lately? It seems to me your voice sounds stronger than it did the last time I was here." "Oh, I'm very well," responded the invalid, cheerfully. "Very well, I feel this summer; don't I, Vesta? And where have you been, Mr. De Arthenay, all this time? I'm sure you have a great deal to tell us. It's as good as a newspaper when you come along, we always say."
"Still, I am sorry for him!" said Miss Rejoice, through the window. "He went away!" replied the fiddler. "Pegrum wouldn't hold him; and the other lad was a good shot, and went about with a shot-gun. But I was going to tell you about the wedding." "Of course!" cried Melody. "What did the bride wear? That is the most important part." De Arthenay cleared his throat, and looked grave.
De Arthenay had been talking about her, and how they thought she'd better stay right on where she was for a spell, till she was all rested up, and knew what she wanted to do. Mr. De Arthenay would be a friend to her, and no one could be a better one, as she'd find. But Marie only said that Monsieur was very kind, and never raised her eyes to his. De Arthenay, on his part, was no more at ease.
It was at this moment that Abby Rock, who had been watching from her window for the past few minutes, opened her door and came out, stepping quietly toward them, as if they were just the people she had expected to see. De Arthenay hailed her as an angel from Heaven; and yet Abby did not look like an angel. "Abby!" he cried. "Come here a minute, will you?"
Ah, Le Boss, what was he doing this evening for his music, with no Marie and no Lady! And it was just at this triumphant moment that Jacques De Arthenay came round the corner and into the village street. There had been De Arthenays in the village ever since it became a village: never many of them, one or two at most in a generation; not a prolific stock, but a hardy and persistent one.
The market official testified to the grocer as being a well-known citizen, doing business with the market people, and taking no part in public affairs; while Monsieur Tourrier showed the letter that he had received from his cousin, the adjoint at Arthenay. "What is the name of the ship which your sister's husband commands?" the maire asked. "The Henriette, a lugger.
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