The Argosy — page 183: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

168 Divided. of ships and fish, hung as votive offerings round the porch or cut out in the grey stone. Here, too, was the burial place. of the de Kériadecs, from the famous Josselin of Pont l’Abbé to the later hero of the house, on whose tomb was inscribed : “Cy: gist: lecceur: de Gesril: Sieur de Kériadec ;” and, sculp- tured underneath the engraved arms of the de Kériadecs, two lines out of the well-known commandements of the Chouanerie : Né Breton, tu n’oublieras Afin d’agir loyalement. Close to the Chapelle stood a Menhir, surmounted by a rude iron cross, which to Yvonne Hévin, at least, was no mere symbol, but an object of devoutest and purest veneration. But this was not all that Yvonne could see from her room. From the other window she could just catch a glimpse of the east wing of the Chateau, with its Beacon Tower; and it was a fancy of hers that, at night, some portion of its light always fell upon her little room, keeping her safe from bodily and spiritual harm as though by a magic spell. Every night before she went to sleep she said her prayers to the Beacon light. Perhaps there was something verging on idolatry both in the deed and in the unconfessed motive of it. She did not mean it as such; but it seemed to her so much nearer, so much warmer, so much more sympathetic than that God in Heaven whom she could not see, and whose anger with those who offended Him she had been taught to look upon as so hard and merciless in its potency. To-night, when she left Raoul she ran straight home, and creep- ing stealthily upstairs, that her aunt might not hear and waylay her, shut herself into her room and flung herself upon the little oaken _Prie-Dieu that always stood close to the window facing the Chateau. ‘No. He does not understand. He thinks it is only my evil ‘temper that makes me so rude and bitter,” she cried to herself. ‘He does not understand that it makes me wild with grief to see ‘him so changed and grave, with such pain and regret in his eyes. And then to know that it is Zev fault; that she is killing the life out .of his heart with her bad, cruel ways. Ah! Mon Dieu, mon Dieu! If I could but help him to undo his own folly, and save him from ‘the trouble that is coming.” Her heart was bursting with conflicting emotions—love, hate, anger, she knew not what. <A long time she knelt there, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, her face buried in her hands. Of what was she thinking that could make the small brown hands work so convulsively, and force such choking sobs from her heaving breast P Poor, wild little Yvonne! She did not realize the folly and the sin of her own thoughts. Yet the feelings that governed her were Gomicbooks. co