“He is a right proper young gentleman, madam. Straight and comely and tall, with brown waving hair and a bright pleasant face. A son such as any mother might be proud of.”
The countess suddenly threw her arms around Jeanne's neck and burst into tears.
“You have made me so happy, Jeanne; happy as I never thought to be again. How can I thank you?”
“The best way at present, madam,” Jeanne said with a smile, “will be by drinking up that tisane, and lying down quietly. Sister Felicia moves about as noiselessly as a cat, and she may pop in at any moment. Do you lie down again, and I will stand a little way off talking. Then if she comes upon us suddenly she will suspect nothing.”
The countess seized the bowl of tisane and drank it off, and then threw herself on the couch.
“Go on, Jeanne, go on. Have pity on my impatience. Think how I am longing to hear of him. Did the message say he was longing to see me? But that is not possible.”
“It is not quite impossible, madam; though it would be dangerous, very dangerous. Still it is not quite impossible.”
“How then could it be done, Jeanne? You know what our life is here. How can I possibly see my boy?”
“What he proposes, madam, is this: that he should some night scale the river wall, and await you on the terrace, and that you should descend from your window by a rope ladder, and so return after seeing him.”
“Oh, yes, that is possible!” the countess exclaimed; “I could knot my bed clothes and slide down. It matters not about getting back again, since we have no ladder.”
“I can manage to bring in two light ropes,” Jeanne said. “It would not do for you to be found in the garden, for it would excite suspicion, and you would never have a chance of doing it again. But it is not an easy thing to climb up a rope ladder with no one to help you, and you know I shall be at the other end of the house.”
“That is nothing,” the countess said. “Had I to climb ten times the height, do you think I should hesitate for a moment when it was to see my son? Oh, Jeanne, how good you are! And when will it be?”
“I will bring in the ropes next time I go out. Mind and place them in your bed. You will know that that night at eleven o'clock your son will be on the terrace awaiting you.
As Jeanne finished speaking she placed her finger on her lips, for she thought she heard a slight noise without. The countess closed her eyes and then lay down on her pillow, while Jeanne stood as if watching her. The next instant the door opened noiselessly and Sister Felicia entered. She moved with a noiseless step up to Jeanne.
“Is she asleep?” she whispered.
“Oh no!” Jeanne answered in a louder voice, guessing that the sister would have heard the murmur of voices. “She has only just closed her eyes.”
The countess looked up.
“Ah! is it you, sister? I have taken the tisane Sister Angela sent up, but my hands are burning and my head aches. The heat in chapel was so great I thought I should have fainted.”
“Your hands are indeed burning,” the sister said, convinced, as soon as she touched them, that the countess was really indisposed. “Yes; and your pulse is beating quicker than I can count. Yes, you have a touch of fever. I will mix you a draught and bring it up to you at once. Hark! that is the first peal of thunder; we are going to have a storm. It will clear the air, and do you even more good than my medicine. I will leave you here for tonight; if you are not better tomorrow we will move you into the infirmary.”
The next morning Sister Felicia found her patient much better, though she still seemed languid and weak, and was ordered to remain quietly in her apartment for a day or so, which was just what she desired, for she was so filled with her new born happiness that she feared that if she went about her daily tasks as usual she should not be able to conceal from the sharp eyes of the sisters the joyousness which was brimming over in her, while had she laughed she would have astonished the inmates of the gloomy convent.
CHAPTER VII: Mother!
When Jeanne, after accomplishing her errands the next time she went out, entered Madam Vipon's, she found Ronald and Malcolm awaiting her.
“You have told my mother?” the former asked eagerly as she entered.
“Yes, I have told her, and if I had been an angel from heaven, with a special message to her, the poor lady could not have looked more happy.”
“And you have been like an angel to us!” Ronald exclaimed, taking her hand. “How can I thank you for your goodness?”
“For shame, sir!” Jeanne said, smiling and colouring as Ronald, in his delight, threw his arms round her and kissed her. “Remember I am a lay sister.”
“I could not have helped it,” Ronald said, “if you had been the lady superior. And now,” he went on eagerly, “is all arranged? See, I have brought a ladder of silk rope, light and thin, but quite strong enough to bear her.”
“You take all for granted then, sir. You know I said I would take your message, but that I would not engage to meddle further in it.”
“I know you said so; but I was sure that having gone so far you would do the rest. You will, won't you, Jeanne?”
“I suppose I must,” Jeanne said; “for what with the countess on one side and you on the other, I should get no peace if I said no. Well, then, it is all arranged. At eleven o'clock tonight you are to be on the terrace, and you can expect her there. If she does not come you will know that something has occurred to prevent her, and she will come the following night at the same hour.”
Jeanne took the silken cords and wound them round her, under her lay sister's robe, and then, with a kindly nod at Ronald, and an injunction to be as noiseless as a mouse in climbing up the terrace, and above all not to raise his voice in speaking to his mother, she tripped away across the street to the convent.
Malcolm and Ronald sallied out from Tours before the city gates were closed at sunset, and sat down on the slope which rises from the other side of the river and waited till it was time to carry the plan into operation. Gradually the lights disappeared from the various windows and the sounds which came across the water ceased, and by ten o'clock everything was profoundly still. They had, in the course of the afternoon, hired a boat, saying they were going out for a night's fishing. This they had moored a short distance below the town, on the side of the river where they now were. They now made their way to it and rowed quietly across the stream; then they left it and waded through the water, which flowed knee deep at the foot of the walls.
Although Tours was still a walled town the habit of keeping sentry in time of peace had long since died out, and they had no fear, at that hour, of discovery. There was no moon, but the night was bright and clear, and they had no difficulty in finding that part of the wall which now formed the terrace of the convent.
They were provided with a rope knotted at every foot, and with a grapnel attached to one end. At the second attempt this caught on the parapet of the wall, and Ronald at once climbed it and stood on the terrace, where, a minute later, he was joined by Malcolm. The convent itself could not be seen, for a screen of trees at the foot of the wall shut it off from the view of people on the opposite bank of the river. They waited quietly until a sudden peal of the bells of the numerous churches announced that it was the hour. Then they moved towards the steps leading down into the garden. A minute later a figure was seen approaching. Malcolm fell back, and Ronald advanced towards it. As the countess approached she held our her arms, exclaiming:
“My boy, my boy!” and with a cry of “Mother!” Ronald sprang forward into her embrace.
For a short time not a word was spoken, and then the countess murmured: