safe: and she understood.

There was nothing else for him to do. The usual process of romance had
been reversed. He had not saved her life, she had saved his. The least
that he could do was to give her shelter at the Manor Cartier yonder at
St. Saviour's, her and, if need be, her father. Human gratitude must
have play. It was so strong in this case that it alone could have
overcome the Norman caution of Jean Jacques, and all his worldly wisdom
(so much in his own eyes). Added thereto was the thing which had been
greatly stirred in him at the instant the Antoine struck; and now he kept
picturing Carmen in the big living-room and the big bedroom of the house
by the mill, where was the comfortable four-poster which had come from
the mansion of the last Baron of Beaugard down by St. Laurent.

Three days after the shipwreck of the Antoine, and as soon as sufficient
finery could be got in Quebec, it was accomplished, the fate of Jean
Jacques. How proud he was to open his cheque-book before the young
Spanish maid, and write in cramped, characteristic hand a cheque for a
hundred dollars or so at a time! A moiety of this money was given to
Sebastian Dolores, who could scarcely believe his good fortune. A
situation was got for him by the help of a good abbe at Quebec, who was
touched by the tale of the wreck of the Antoine, and by the no less
wonderful tale of the refugees of Spain, who naturally belonged to the
true faith which "feared God and honoured the King." Sebastian Dolores
was grateful for the post offered him, though he would rather have gone
to St. Saviour's with his daughter, for he had lost the gift of work, and
he desired peace after war. In other words, he had that fatal trait of
those who strive to make the world better by talk and violence, the vice
of indolence.