"Money--money!" Ringfield exclaimed in his turn, "The root of many kinds of evil. How much money have you, my friend? You are accounted rich, as it goes in St. Ignace, at Bois Clair, in Hawthorne, but in Quebec, in Three Rivers, in Montreal--no! You would soon find the difference. The rich man of the country might easily become the poor man of the town; living is expensive there--you might find your business here--I mean the mill--not pay so well with you absent; in short, Poussette, you would be foolish to change your way of life! It is not worth your while to leave St. Ignace, but I know who ought to go, to be sent to the right about pretty quickly too, and that is--this man, Edmund Crabbe. What do you think of helping me to get him away?
He"s a public nuisance in spite of his education, and we should all do better without him."
Ringfield was always torn by painful, shameful jealousy when he thought of the Englishman, and his entire nature appeared to change. He could not have called him "Hawtree" or "Mr." for his life; that savoured of gentility and the fervid past when the man was perhaps a picturesque figure, quoting the English cla.s.sics in the guise of an unfortunate exile. Besides, if he fathomed Poussette"s feelings correctly, the latter in his own jealousy of Crabbe might be found a powerful ally.
The plain truth was--three men wanted the same woman; and vaguely, it seemed to Ringfield as if he--the worthiest--had chief right to her; he feared not Poussette, the married and the marred, the uneducated, the inferior one of her own race, but he still feared the perversely cultured, doubtlessly gifted, decadent "Oxford man," the social superior of every one in the village.
Poussette again reflected. Any latent jealousy he had entertained of the minister tended to disappear under the fire of these inquisitorial interviews, and Ringfield might always be credited with having fine command over his features.
"Ah, well, m"sieu," said the Frenchman, sagaciously nodding, "Crabbe is no harm. You get me my divorce; let me marry Ma"amselle Pauline, live with her at the beeg house, and I"ll promise--_parole d"honneur_, m"sieu--to see no more that man."
"The Manor House! It will be a long time before any one can live there, I should think!" said Ringfield impatiently, concealing the spasm of tortured pride that pa.s.sed over him as he heard Poussette"s tactics defined. "And what if she will not marry you? Mlle.
Clairville is wedded to the theatre, she tells me, and although of that I cannot approve, it would not be so bad as marrying a divorced person."
"But we are great friends, sir! Many a tam I have kept that house, many, many months, m"sieu, supply well with food--the meat and the dhrink, the chickenne and the wine. Her brother is _fou_--mad, he has not one cent monee. How then shall mademoiselle fare? I am good tenant of her brother, the Sieur, Seigneur of St. Ignace, and I send my peep there with good things to eat; he will tell you, sir, of the old tam and all about the _corvee_ when every one in the _paroisse_ do same thing; one man feesh, another man beeg chickenne or turkey, another patackes, another flour from the mill. Why, sir, if it was not that I, Amable Poussette, was good friend there, I don"t know, I don"t _know_, m"sieu, how they get along "tall! Those Archambault--all bad peep--all bad together; the old woman, the old man, the girl, the boy--all the same, sure."
"Who pays them?--You?"
"No, m"sieu; do better things with my monee."
"But they don"t believe in the _corvee_, surely?"
"It is like this." And Poussette tapped the other"s knee with his fat fingers, thereby displaying the cornelian ring to much advantage, and Ringfield saw with satisfaction that on top of the large "C" was cut a little "S". Had the relations between Poussette and Miss Cordova so quickly progressed and of what nature were they? The eye of the Frenchman gave a comprehensive wink. "It is all right, Mr. Ringfield, all right, sir, Mees Cordova--she put the ring on my finger herself; she was just fooling last night and I like to be good friends with her; then she speak for me to Mees Clairville, and so--_vous comprenez_, sir. But no--I pay no money to these Archambault. It is like this.
There have been Clairville many years at St. Ignace; there have also been Archambault too a long tam. They say once one was married with another, but I do not know; I would not ask M"sieu Clairville, and I would not ask Ma"amselle Pauline. This is a long tam ago, I only speak of what I hear. I know this, m"sieu--it is not a nice place, not a nice life for a lady like Mees Clairville. Have you not seen her on the theatre? You would like to see her at that?"
"No, decidedly not. I have never seen a play. I do not approve of the life she leads, and trust that when her brother is better she will not return to her vocation."
"But how--she must make some leetle monee of her own, and it is for why she goes on the theatre. I have seen her act and sing."
"Can she sing?"
"Ah, you shall hear. She will sing for me, m"sieu, and bigosh--_excusez_, Mr. Ringfield--I"ll get her sing to-night. And if I do that, will you, sir, do one great thing for me?"
Ringfield smiled. "I won"t promise, Poussette. You"re a deeper character than I thought you were. At any rate, I"ll do nothing about a divorce--make sure of that, man!"
Poussette, with large, n.o.ble gestures, waved the divorce away.
"I say nothing. I will do nothing. But if you will be so kind, sir, as to speak of me to Mees Clairville, should my wife, Mme.
Natalie--die! Tell her, sir, how I am good man, _au fond_, sir, by my nature; how I love the leetle babee, plenty small babee; how I am kind, jolly man, by my nature, sir; how I would like to marry with her, give her good tam. You tell her this, Mr. Ringfield, for me, and make me your best friend, sure?"
Half-laughing, half-shocked, and for the moment forgetting his own views and dreams concerning her, Ringfield acceded to the unusual request.
"And remember, m"sieu--tell her I go no more on the dhrunk after I marry with her--no, sir, go no more "tall. If we live in Morreall, tell her I"ll go no more on that Hotel Champlain neither; a friend of mine, Napoleon Legendre, he has a temperance "otel in Craig Street; I go there, sir, and never touch even one gla.s.s of beer. Tell her that.
And tell her I am for selling this place, and p"raps buy Clairville Chateau. Tell her----"
"Enough, enough, my good Poussette!" cried Ringfield, jumping up as he heard feminine voices nearing their retreat. "Your virtuous resolutions do you credit, and may you be enabled to perform and carry them through--if not to the letter at least in the spirit."
"And you don"t think me _bad, low_ kind of _garcon_, eh?"
"I do not, indeed."
"Say"--and Poussette"s hand instinctively moved towards the counter--"you will dhrink a leetle gla.s.s beer, just one, sir, on that with me?"
"Poussette!"
With an injured expression, and a rapidity amazing for so fat a man, Poussette slipped round behind the counter and brought out two bottles of ginger ale; in a twinkling the tall tumblers were ready and he offered one to Ringfield with a deep and exaggerated bow.
"Ah--I see. I beg your pardon, Poussette. I thought you meant the other kind. Of course I will drink with you and with pleasure."
The gla.s.ses were placed side by side, each taking one and looking intently at one another. In that moment all selfishness died out of Ringfield; he felt the importance of the opportunity.
"Will you shake hands first, Poussette?"
"_Mais oui_, m"sieu! _Certainement_, but wait, sir, one moment!"
With repeated rubbings on the clean roller-towel behind him, turning back of cuffs and a general straightening of the person and freshening of the attire, the Frenchman at length proffered his fat hand, and Ringfield clasped it with a firm, bold grasp; his muscles were twice as strong as those of the Frenchman, for while the one had been chiefly employed in the kitchen, at a rude desk, and had rusted in long loafing and idling intervals, the other had maintained his rowing and paddling and his interest in other athletic pursuits; even a half-dozen lessons in boxing had he laid to his credit.
"Now I"ve got you," said he, smiling, as the fat hand lay tightly imprisoned in the lean one, "and I"m not going to let you go till you make me a promise. See here--Poussette--promise me now--not to touch a drop of liquor again for a whole year. We"ll let it go at that; I won"t say anything about beer. By degrees, man, we"ll fight the Devil and all his works. By degrees, and by prayer, and by every argument in favour of right living that I can bring before you--we"ll fight this thing out together, you and I. Don"t wait for some hysterical occasion, but do your plain duty now, while I hold your hand in mine.
If you should marry again, Poussette, and should ever have those little children playing about you--what then? You"d want to lead a straight life then--and before, I know you would. Come--make me the promise now--and if you break it, as you may do, come to me and tell me of it; make it a second time and so--each interval may be longer, do you see--if you "take the pledge" as it is called, it is likely to be in public, and your friends and fellow-drinkers hear about it, and ridicule you and laugh at the idea, and so you are driven to drink again. What do you say, Poussette?"
"It is then--just between you and me, sir?"
"That"s the idea. Of course I shall say nothing about it to a third person. Come--you promise!"
Poussette seemed uneasy.
"But--m"sieu--just you and me? That seems, sir, just same thing as go confess to Father Rielle. Beg pardon, Mr. Ringfield, but bigosh, sir--that is same sure as go on the confession."
Ringfield saw the point.
"I understand, Poussette. You are right. We must not be ashamed of trying to be good. Nothing done in the corner, eh? Well, then, you tell--anybody you like."
"The new lady--Mees Cordova! Will that be all right, sir?"
"Why Miss Cordova? Oh, well--never mind! So long as I"ve got your word, Poussette, the word of an honest man, eh?"
"I"ll thry, sir."
"That"s good. That"s all right. You"re a _man_, Poussette."
The Frenchman wiped the tumblers thoughtfully and gazed intently into s.p.a.ce. Perhaps he saw there the future small Poussettes playing out of doors; perhaps too, he saw the faded, weary woman who bore his name, still watching the sick man in the old manor house.
"You see, m"sieu," he said impressively, "if Mme. Poussette was to come right, if she come again on me here, feex up things around the house, be well and jolly, I would not send her away, I would not thry get this divorce. Fonny things happens--but I don"t know about my wife. Dr.
Renaud think she will always be the same. It is hard for me, Mr.
Ringfield, sir--me, jolly kind of man--have a wife go like silly person all over the place, sing and walk by herself, make up songs, fonny _chansons_. Ah, you don"t know how I have hard tam with that one!
But, I"ll wait till I see how she is in two, three weeks; the doctor--he say Henry Clairville almost well now."
"And it is understood you will leave Miss Clairville alone--and Miss Cordova. Remember, Poussette, you have engaged me to preach in your church and to minister here in this parish. I must refuse to do either if you offend against common decency and morality. Besides--Miss Clairville will never, I am positive, listen to you. You must see as well as I do, her pride in her family connexions, however worthless these are to-day."
"_Bien_," said Poussette jauntily, "if not Mees Clairville, then Mees Cordova. That is for why I wear her ring. I can persuade, sir--bigosh, _excusez_ m"sieu, I can persuade!"