of him!"

"Wait a bit,--I'm coming to him. So when I found I couldn't get away
from the mother, and, to speak the honest truth, that woman makes me
afraid to seem to slight her. She has a sort of an evil look about her,
like one as could do you any manner of harm for only wishing for; I
can't account for it, I don't know what it is, for I am not timorous by
nature, but somehow the widow Martial does downright scare me. Well,
says I, thinking just to say a few words and pass on, 'I haven't seen
anything of your son Martial these last two or three days,' says I, 'I
suppose he's not with you just now?' upon which she fixed her eyes upon
me with such a look! 'Tis well they were not pistols, or they would have
shot me, as folks say."

"You drive me wild! And then--and what said she?"

Father Ferot was silent for a minute or two, and then added:

"Come, now, you are a right sort of a girl; if you will only promise me
to be secret, I will tell you all I know."

"Concerning my man?"

"Ay, to be sure, for Martial is a good fellow, though somewhat
thoughtless; and it would be a sore pity should any mischance befall him
through that old wretch of a mother or his rascally brother!"

"But what is going on? What have his mother or brother done? And where
is he, eh? Speak, I tell you! Speak!"

"Well, well, have a little patience! And, I say, do just let my blouse
alone! Come, take your hands off, there's a good girl; if you keep
interrupting me, and tear my clothes in this way, I shall never be able
to finish my story, and you will know nothing at last."

"Oh, how you try my patience!" exclaimed La Louve, stamping her foot
with intense passion.

"And you promise never to repeat a word of what I am about to tell you?"

"No, no, I never will!"

"Upon your word of honour?"

"Father Ferot, you will drive me mad!"

"Oh, what a hot-headed girl it is! Well, now, then, this is what I have
got to say; but, first and foremost, I must tell you that Martial is
more than ever at variance with his family; and, if he were to get some
foul play at their hands, I should not be at all surprised; and that
makes me the more sorry my boat is not at hand to help you across the
water, for, if you reckon upon either Nicholas or Calabash taking you
over to the isle, why, you'll just find yourself disappointed, that's
all."

"I know that as well as you do; but what did my man's mother tell you?
He was in the isle, then, when he fell ill, was