Page:Gilbert Parker--The Lane that had No Turning.djvu/57

Rh at once a strange association of ideas flashed into her brain.

She recalled one summer day long ago, when, in the Church of St. Saviour's, the smell of the buckwheat fields came through the open door and windows, and her mind had kept repeating mechanically, till she fell asleep, the text of the Curé's sermon—"As ye sow, so also shall ye reap."

That placid hour which had no problems, no cares, no fears, no penalties in view, which was filled with the richness of a blessed harvest and the plenitude of innocent youth, came back on her now in the moment of her fierce temptation.

She folded up the paper slowly, a sob came in her throat, she blew out the candle, and put the will back in the cupboard. The faint click of the spring as she closed the panel seemed terribly loud to her. She started and looked timorously round. The blood came back to her face—she flushed crimson with guilt. Then she turned out the lighted lamp and crept away up the stairs to her room.

She paused beside Louis' bed. He was moving restlessly in his sleep; he was murmuring her name. With a breaking sigh she crept into bed slowly and lay like one who had been beaten, bruised, and shamed.

At last, before the dawn, she fell asleep. She dreamed that she was in prison and that George Fournel was her gaoler.

She waked to find Louis at her bedside.

"I am holding my seigneurial court to-day," he said.