Brent exclaimed, "Is there anywhere else we can carry you?"
"Faith", added D’Arcy, "it would be no trouble at all to carry you to the top of the Citadel!"
The Scotswoman darted from her brood to plant a last kiss on Gussie’s little mouth.
"Eh, the poor wee bairn!" she cried.
Her own children, thinking she had deserted them, came howling after her. She turned to them and was lost to view.
How many priests there were about, thought Adeline, and how foreign everything looked! She felt better now, really exhilarated and eager to see her new home. Philip had got a carriage for her. Their three friends were going to an hotel. She had a fleeting glimpse of Mrs. Cameron being met by relatives. Fascinated, she saw their astonished questionings, Mrs. Cameron’s tragic gestures. She saw her raise a black-gloved hand and point to Philip and herself. She stood motionless a moment, then threw the group a smile. "I may as well let them think I don’t care", she said to herself, "for they hate me and my brothers and nothing can change that!"
Philip lifted her into the carriage and took Gussie on his own knee. The wheels rattled over the cobbles and up the steep narrow streets.
Adeline began to laugh rather hysterically. Philip turned his head to look at her.
"I was just thinking of the way Mrs. Cameron looked at me", she said. "You’d think an elopement was a monstrous thing and that I had engineered it. For my part, I think that little Mary did extremely well for herself".
VI. The House in the Rue St. Louis
It stood before them, tall, and a little severe, with a many-windowed façade. The knocker on the heavy door was a frowning gargoyle head. Philip’s firm knock echoed through the house. Adeline stood gazing at the small-paned windows, the frames of which were painted black, with a narrow gilt rim. She exclaimed:
"I can picture the old days here-satin breeches, powdered heads and all that!"
"Nice to think it is ours", said Philip.
"Isn’t it!"
Gussie, from her father’s arm, reached out and thrust her tiny fingers into the gargoyle’s mouth.
"The street looks quare and foreign", put in Patsy, waiting on the pavement with the bird-cage and his bundles. "Haven’t we any land with it at all?"
Philip could not get used to Patsy’s way of joining in their conversation. He frowned a little and knocked again. The door opened. A short stout woman in a black dress stood before them. Obviously she was French but mercifully spoke English. She explained that she had been engaged as cook for them by the solicitor who had charge of Colonel Nicholas Whiteoak’s affairs. Doubtless Captain Whiteoak had communicated with him. For herself she was eager to serve them. Her name was Marie.
Her appearance was reassuring. Philip ordered tea for Adeline. He looked about the large drawing-room with satisfaction. Marie gave a cry of delight and pounced on Gussie.
"Ah, la pauvre petite!" she cried.
Patsy had been standing in the dimness of the hall with the tiny silent girl on his shoulder. He showed his large teeth between his straggling whiskers in an ingratiating grin at Marie who now took possession of Gussie.
"Ah, Madame, may I have the pleasure of feeding her? She looks so fatigued, so pale".
Adeline thankfully agreed.
When they were alone Philip said again:
"It’s nice to think this is ours. It looks like a well-built house and there will be plenty of room for the things we brought".
Adeline flung open the solid dark-red shutters and the May sunshine flooded the room which obviously had been but casually cleaned and dusted for their reception. Adeline’s bright gaze flashed about it. She saw the black and gilt furniture, the ornate chandelier with its four cylindrical red glass shades hung by crimson velvet cords. She cried:
"It’s hideous!"
"Do you think so?"
"Don’t you?"
"Well, I don’t like everything in it. But it has possibilities".
"Was this your uncle’s taste?"
"He bought it furnished-just as it stands".
She came and threw her arms about him.
"Oh, Philip, I shall have great fun doing it over! I declare I’ve never so looked forward to anything. Let’s explore the whole house".
"Not till you have had some refreshment. Remember your condition".
"Merciful heavens", she cried, "why are you always throwing that up to me! I can’t wink an eyelid but you say, ’Remember your condition!’"
Marie came in with a tray on which there were a pot of tea and some small iced cakes. She gave them a beaming smile.
"La pauvre petite is ravenous!" she exclaimed. "She has already eaten three cakes and drunk a small cup of café au lait. It is much, much better for her than tea. Ah, her intelligence-her savoir-faire-her beauty! That person who carried her tells me she has made the journey from India and that the native nurse died. But never fear, I will, of a certainty, guard her-better than she has ever been guarded before!"
Marie’s devotion to little Augusta was not passing. Indeed it grew day by day. She had the child continually with her. The suggestion that a nurse should be engaged filled her with horror. There were no good nurses in Quebec. She herself was the only person capable of giving Gussie the proper care. All she needed was a young boy to do the rough work and she knew the very boy-a nephew in fact of her own, and a capable girl to act as housemaid-a niece of hers would exactly fill the requirements. Much could be found for Patsy to do in a house of this size. For example, the goat had to be cared for, the steps cleaned, and the garden kept in order. The goat was free to graze in a small near-by orchard, which property also belonged to Philip.
He spent happy days becoming acquainted with the details of his inheritance. He had long talks with his uncle’s solicitor, Mr. Prime. The deeds were in perfect order. There was nothing to worry about. He and the two Irishmen, D’Arcy and Brent, who were staying at a near-by hotel, accompanied by Wilmott who had less expensive accommodation in a pension just down the Street, explored the old town, climbed the hill to the Citadel, dined with the officers at the Fort. Every fine afternoon Philip hired a carriage and took Adeline and one of the gentlemen for a drive into the country. The scenery was delightful, the late Canadian spring flowering into a plenitude of spreading leaf and bloom. They looked down at the majestic river and talked of their past voyage which was beginning to seem like a troubled dream. The invigorating air, Marie’s good cooking, soon brought colour to Adeline’s cheeks and strength to take the place of weakness.
Their furniture arrived in excellent condition. The uglier of the pieces belonging to Uncle Nicholas were banished and the elegances of Chippendale took their place. The rugs they had brought from India were laid with fine effect on the polished floors. The red-shaded chandelier was replaced by one of crystal. In truth Uncle Nicholas would have found it difficult to recognise his house.
They speculated a good deal about him but could find little in the house by which they could reconstruct his life there. There was not a single picture of him, but a portrait of the Duke of Kent, under whose command he had come to Quebec, hung in the drawing-room. Mr. Prime, the solicitor, described Colonel Whiteoak as fine in appearance, a little hasty in temper, hospitable in habit, a connoisseur of good wine. But though Philip searched every inch of the cellar he did not find a single bottle to reward him. It was strange, for his uncle must have had a good supply at the time of his death. Among his papers there was little to reveal him. He had kept no journal as a receptacle for his thoughts. There were, however, a few letters of an amorous nature from a French lady in Montreal. These were tied together with a piece of tape and on the last one was written, in the Colonel’s small legible hand, — "Marguerite died January 30th, 1840".