As we wandered on, I noticed a woman kneeling
beside a grave. It grew upon me that the figure was familiar. Presently I
saw who it was, for the face lifted. I excused myself, went over to her,
and said:--"Miss Caron, you are in trouble?"
She looked up, her eyes swimming with tears and pointed to the tombstone.
On it I read:
Sacred to the Memory of
HECTOR CARON,
Ensign in the French Navy.
Erected by his friend, Galt Roscoe,
H.B.M.N.
Beneath this was the simple line:
"Why, what evil hath he done?"
"He was your brother?" I asked.
"Yes, monsieur, my one brother." Her tears dropped slowly.
"And Galt Roscoe, who was he?" asked I.
Through her grief her face was eloquent. "I never saw him--never knew
him," she said. "He saved my poor Hector from much suffering; he nursed
him, and buried him here when he died, and then--that!" pointing to the
tombstone. "He made me love the English," she said. "Some day I shall
find him, and I shall have money to pay him back all he spent--all." Now
I guessed the meaning of the scene on board the 'Fulvia', when she had
been so anxious to preserve her present relations with Mrs.
Pages:
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179