Carette of Sark Part 19

"Tuts, boy! Am I going blind? What are an old woman's eyes for if not to watch the goings-on of the young ones? You want our Carette. Of course you do. And you've taken her for granted ever since you were so high. Now here's a word of wisdom for you, mon gars. No girl likes to be taken for granted after she's, say, fourteen,--unless, ma fe, she's as ugly as sin.

If she's a beauty, as our Carette is, she knows it, and she's not going to drop into any man's mouth like a ripe fig. Mon Gyu, no!"--with a crisp nod.

"It's true, every word of it," I said, knowing quite well that those clever old brown eyes of hers could bore holes in me and read me like a book.

"Just you tell me what to do, Aunt Jeanne, and I'll do it as sure as I sit here."

"As sure as you sit there you never will, unless you jump right up and win her, my boy. That young Torode is no fool, though he is hot-headed enough and as full of conceit as he can hold. And, pergui, he knows what he wants."

"And Carette?"

Aunt Jeanne's only answer to that was a shrug. She was, as I think I have said, a very shrewd person. I have since had reason to believe that she could, if she had chosen, have relieved my mind very considerably, but at the moment she thought it was the spur I needed, and she was not going to lessen the effect of what she had said. On the contrary, she applied it again and twisted it round and round.

"He's good-looking, you see. That is--in the girls' eyes. Men see differently. And he's rich, or he will be, though, for me, I would not care what money a man had if the devil had his claw in it, mon Gyu, no! But there you are, mon gars. There is he with all that, and here are you with nothing but just your honest face and your good heart and your two strong arms. And what I want to know is--what are you going to do about it?"

"What would you do if you were me, Aunt Jeanne?"

"Ah, now we talk sense. What would I do? Ma fe, I would put myself in the way of making something, so that I'd feel confidence in asking her."

"That's just it. I can't ask her till I'm in some position to do so. I've been thinking all round it--."

"B'en?

"I could go trading again--."

"And get drowned, maybe, before you've made enough to pay for a decent funeral," snorted Aunt Jeanne contemptuously.

"I could go on a King's s.h.i.+p"

"And get bullied to death for nothing a day."

"The free-trading my mother won't hear of."

"Crais b'en!"

"Why, I don't know--."

"Never mind why. She has her reasons without doubt."

"So there's nothing for it but the privateering."

"B'en! Why couldn't you say so without boxing the compa.s.s, mon gars?

Privateering is the biggest chance nowadays. Of course, the risks--."

"That's nothing if it brings me to Carette, Aunt Jeanne--."

"Well, then?"

"I wish you'd tell me something."

"What, then?" she asked warily.

"I get a bit afraid sometimes that Carette is not intended for a plain common Sercqman. Has M. Le Marchant views--"

"Shouldn't be a bit surprised, mon gars. I know I would have if she were mine. But, all the same, it is Carette herself will have the final say in the matter, and meanwhile--well, the more she learns the better. Isn't it so?"

"Surely. The more one learns the better, unless--"

"Yes, then?"

"Well, unless it makes one look down on one's friends."

"Do you look down on your mother? And do you look down on me? Yet I'll be bound you think you know a sight more than both of us put together."

"No, I don't. But--"

"And yet you've had more learning than ever came our way."

"Of a kind. But--"

"Exactly, mon gars! And that other is the learning that doesn't come from books. And all your learning and Carette's will only prepare you for these other things. With all your learning you are only babies yet. The harder tasks are all before you."

"And you think I may hope for Carette, Aunt Jeanne?"

"If you win her. But you'll have to stir yourself, mon gars."

"I've sometimes wondered--" I began doubtfully, and stopped, not knowing how she might take my questioning.

"Well, what have you wondered?" and she peered at me with her head on one side like a robin's.

"Well--you see--she is so different from the others over there on Brecqhou."

"Roses grow among thorns."

"Yes, I know--"

"Very well!... All the same, you are right, mon gars. She is different--and with reason. Her mother was well-born. She was daughter to old G.o.defroi of St. Heliers, the s.h.i.+powner. Jean was sailing one of his s.h.i.+ps. It was not a good match nor a suitable one. The old man turned them out, and Jean came here with her and his boys and settled on Brecqhou. It is as well you should know, for it may come into the account. Jean would make her into a lady like her mother. For me, I would like to see her an honest man's wife--that is, if he's able to keep her."

"I'm for the privateering," I said, jumping up as briskly as if I'd only to walk aboard.

"I'll wish you luck and pray for it, my boy."

"That should help. Good-bye, Aunt Jeanne!"

My mind was quite made up, but, all the same, I went to George Hamon to ask his advice and help in the matter, as I always had done in all kinds of matters, and never failed to get them. I found him strolling among his cabbages with his pipe in his mouth.

"Uncle George, I want your advice," I began, and he smiled knowingly.

"Aw! I know you, mon gars. You've made up your mind about something and you want me to help you get over your mother and grandfather. Isn't that about it? And what is it now?"

"I want to be up and doing and making something--"