Jeanne Of The Marshes
Jeanne awoke the next morning to find herself between lavender scented sheets
in a small iron bedstead, with a soft sea-wind blowing in through the half-open
window. Her maid was ready to wait upon her, and her bath was of salt water
fresh from the sea. She descended to find Andrew at work in the garden, the sun
already high in the heavens, and the sea as blue and placid as though the storm
of the night before were a thing long past and forgotten.
"I am never going away," she declared, as they sat at breakfast. "I take your
rooms, Monsieur Andrew. I will import as many chaperons as you please, but I
will not leave this island."
"I am afraid," he answered smiling, "that there are other people who would have
something to say about that. Your stepmother is already anxious. I have
promised that you shall be back at the Hall by ten o'clock."
The gaiety suddenly faded from her face. Her lips, which had been curved in
"You mean that?" she faltered.
"Most assuredly," he answered. "I have no place for lodgers here. As a matter of
fact, if you knew the truth, you would admit that your staying here is quite
"Well," she said, "I should like to know the truth. Suppose you tell it me."
"I must confess, then," Andrew answered, "that I am somewhat of a fraud.
Berners was my friend, not my lodger, and I am Andrew de la Borne, Cecil's
She looked at him for several moments steadily.