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diff --git a/41296-8.txt b/41296-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0fe21c7..0000000 --- a/41296-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,14275 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose À Charlitte, by Marshall Saunders - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org/license - - -Title: Rose À Charlitte - -Author: Marshall Saunders - -Illustrator: H. de M. Young - -Release Date: November 5, 2012 [EBook #41296] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE À CHARLITTE *** - - - - -Produced by D Alexander, Veronika Redfern and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - ROSE À CHARLITTE - -[Illustration: "ROSE À CHARLITTE STOOD CONFRONTING THE NEWCOMER." - (_See page 58_.)] - - - - - ROSE À CHARLITTE - - +An Acadien Romance+ - - BY - MARSHALL SAUNDERS - - AUTHOR OF "BEAUTIFUL JOE," "THE HOUSE OF ARMOUR," ETC. - - +Illustrated by+ - H. DE M. YOUNG - - [Illustration] - - BOSTON - L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY - - (INCORPORATED) - - _Copyright, 1898_ - - BY L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY - - (INCORPORATED) - - _Entered at Stationers' Hall, London_ - - +Colonial Press+: - - Electrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co. - - Boston, U. S. A. - - - - - +Dedication+ - -I inscribe this story of the Acadiens to one who was their warm friend -and helper while administering the Public Systems of Education in Nova -Scotia and in New Brunswick, to a man whose classic verse is rich in -suggestion caught from the picturesque Evangeline land, and who is a -valued and lifelong friend of my beloved father,-- - - TO - - +Theodore Harding Rand, D. C. L.+ - OF McMASTER UNIVERSITY - TORONTO - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - BOOK I. - - ROSE À CHARLITTE. - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. VESPER L. NIMMO 11 - - II. A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD 21 - - III. FROM BOSTON TO ACADIE 28 - - IV. THE SLEEPING WATER INN 47 - - V. AGAPIT THE ACADIEN 67 - - VI. VESPER SUGGESTS AN EXPLANATION 82 - - VII. A DEADLOCK 90 - - VIII. ON THE SUDDEN SOMETHING ILL 98 - - IX. A TALK ON THE WHARF 108 - - X. BACK TO THE CONCESSION 122 - - XI. NEWS OF THE FIERY FRENCHMAN 138 - - XII. AN UNHAPPY RIVER 154 - - XIII. AN ILLUMINATION 161 - - XIV. WITH THE OLD ONES 178 - - XV. THE CAVE OF THE BEARS 196 - - XVI. FOR THE HONOR OF THEIR RACE 210 - - XVII. THE SUBLIMEST THING IN THE WORLD 222 - - XVIII. NARCISSE GOES IN SEARCH OF THE ENGLISHMAN 236 - - XIX. AN INTERRUPTED MASS 251 - - XX. WITH THE WATERCROWS 262 - - XXI. A SUPREME ADIEU 281 - - - BOOK II. - - BIDIANE. - - I. A NEW ARRIVAL AT SLEEPING WATER 303 - - II. BIDIANE GOES TO CALL ON ROSE À CHARLITTE 319 - - III. TAKEN UNAWARES 334 - - IV. AN UNKNOWN IRRITANT 353 - - V. BIDIANE PLAYS AN OVERTURE 361 - - VI. A SNAKE IN THE GRASS INTERFERES WITH THE - EDUCATION OF MIRABELLE MARIE 372 - - VII. GHOSTS BY SLEEPING WATER 386 - - VIII. FAIRE BOMBANCE 404 - - IX. LOVE AND POLITICS 419 - - X. A CAMPAIGN BEGUN IN BRIBERY 434 - - XI. WHAT ELECTION DAY BROUGHT FORTH 451 - - XII. BIDIANE FALLS IN A RIVER 463 - - XIII. CHARLITTE COMES BACK 474 - - XIV. BIDIANE RECEIVES A SHOCK 483 - - XV. THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER GOES AWAY WITHOUT - HER CAPTAIN 499 - - XVI. AN ACADIEN FESTIVAL 506 - - - - - ILLUSTRATIONS. - - - PAGE - - "ROSE À CHARLITTE STOOD CONFRONTING THE NEWCOMER" _Frontispiece_ - - "THEY WERE FRIENDS" 60 - - "'AGAPIT,' SHE MURMURED, 'CAN WE NOT TELL HIM?'" 229 - - "'MADEMOISELLE, I SALUTE YOUR RETURN'" 311 - - "'EITHER THAT MAN OR I MUST LEAVE THIS HOUSE'" 409 - - "THROWING HER ARM AROUND THE NECK OF HER RECOVERED CHILD" 513 - - - - - BOOK I. - - ROSE À CHARLITTE - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - VESPER L. NIMMO. - - "Hast committed a crime, and think'st thou to escape? - Alas, my father!"--_Old Play._ - - -"Evil deeds do not die," and the handsome young man stretched out in an -easy chair by the fire raised his curly black head and gazed into the -farthest corner of the comfortably furnished room as if challenging a -denial of this statement. - -No one contradicted him, for he was alone, and with a slightly satirical -smile he went on. "One fellow sows the seeds, and another has to reap -them--no, you don't reap seeds, you reap what springs up. Deadly plants, -we will say, nightshades and that sort of thing; and the surprised and -inoffensive descendants of sinful sires have to drop their ordinary -occupations and seize reaping-hooks to clean out these things that shoot -up in their paths. Here am I, for example, a comparatively harmless -product of the nineteenth century, confronted with a upas-tree planted -by my great-grandfather of the eighteenth,--just one hundred and forty -years ago. It was certainly very heedless in the old boy," and he smiled -again and stared indolently at the leaping flames in the grate. - -The fire was of wood,--sections of young trees cut small and laid -crosswise,--and from their slender stems escaping gases choked and -sputtered angrily. - -"I am burning miniature trees," drawled the young man; "by the way, they -seem to be assisting in my soliloquy. Perhaps they know this little -secret," and with sudden animation he put out his hand and rang the bell -beside him. - -A colored boy appeared. "Henry," said the young man, "where did you get -this wood?" - -"I got it out of a schooner, sir, down on one of the wharves." - -"What port did the schooner hail from?" - -"From Novy Scoshy, sir." - -"Were the crew Acadiens?" - -"What, sir?" - -"Were there any French sailors on her?" - -"Yes, sir, I guess so. I heard 'em jabbering some queer kind of talk." - -"Listen to the wood in that fire,--what does it say to you?" - -Henry grinned broadly. "It sounds like as if it was laughing at me, -sir." - -"You think so? That will do." - -The boy closed the door softly and went away, and the young man -murmured, "Just what I thought. They do know. Now, Acadien treelets, -gasping your last to throw a gleam of brightness into my lazy life, tell -me, is anything worth while? If there had been a curse laid on your -ancestors in the forest, would you devote your last five minutes to -lifting it?" - -The angry gasping and sobbing in the fire had died away. Two of the -topmost billets of wood rolled gently over and emitted a soft muttering. - -"You would, eh?" said the young man, with a sweet, subtle smile. "You -would spend your last breath for the good of your race. You have left -some saplings behind you in the forest. You hope that they will be -happy, and should I, a human being, be less disinterested than you?" - -"Vesper," said a sudden voice, from the doorway, "are you talking to -yourself?" - -The young man deliberately turned his head. The better to observe the -action of the sticks of wood, and to catch their last dying murmurs, he -had leaned forward, and sat with his hands on his knees. Now he got up, -drew a chair to the fire for his mother, then sank back into his own. - -"I do not like to hear you talking to yourself," she went on, in a -querulous, birdlike voice, "it seems like the habit of an old man or a -crazy person." - -"One likes sometimes to have a little confidential conversation, my -mother." - -"You always were secretive and unlike other people," she said, in acute -maternal satisfaction and appreciation. "Of all the boys on the hill -there was none as clever as you in keeping his own counsel." - -"So you think, but remember that I happened to be your son," he said, -protestingly. - -"Others have remarked it. Even your teachers said they could never make -you out," and her caressing glance swept tenderly over his dark curly -head, his pallid face, and slender figure. - -His satirical yet affectionate eyes met hers, then he looked at the -fire. "Mother, it is getting hot in Boston." - -"Hot, Vesper?" and she stretched out one little white hand towards the -fireplace. - -"This is an exceptional day. The wind is easterly and raw, and it is -raining. Remember what perfect weather we have had. It is the first of -June; it ought to be getting warm." - -"I do not wish to leave Boston until the last of the month," said the -little lady, decidedly, "unless,--unless," and she wistfully surveyed -him, "it is better for your health to go away." - -"Suppose, before we go to the White Mountains, I take a trial trip by -myself, just to see if I can get on without coddling?" - -"I could not think of allowing you to go away alone," she said, with a -shake of her white head. "It would seriously endanger your health." - -"I should like to go," he said, shortly. "I am better now." - -He had made up his mind to leave her, and, after a brief struggle with -herself, during which she clasped her hands painfully on her lap, the -little lady yielded with a good grace. "Where do you wish to go?" - -"I have not decided. Do you know anything about Nova Scotia?" - -"I know where it is, on the map," she said, doubtfully. "I once had a -housemaid from there. She was a very good girl." - -"Perhaps I will take a run over there." - -"I have never been to Nova Scotia," she said, gently. - -"If it is anything of a place, I will take you some other time. I don't -know anything about the hotels now." - -"But you, Vesper," she said, anxiously, "you will suffer more than I -would." - -"Then I shall not stay." - -"How long will you be gone?" - -"I do not know,--mother, your expression is that of a concerned hen -whose chicken is about to have its first run. I have been away from you -before." - -"Not since you have been ill so much," and she sighed, heavily. "Vesper, -I wish you had a wife to go with you." - -"Really,--another woman to run after me with pill-boxes and -medicine-bottles. No, thank you." - -Her face cleared. She did not wish him to get married, and he knew it. -Slightly moving his dark head back and forth against the cushions of his -chair, he averted his eyes from the widow's garments that she wore. He -never looked at them without feeling a shock of sympathy for her, -although her loss in parting from a kind and tender husband had not been -equal to his in losing a father who had been an almost perfect being to -him. His mother still had him,--the son who was the light of her frail -little life,--and he had her, and he loved her with a kind, indulgent, -filial affection, and with sympathy for her many frailties; but, when -his heart cried out for his departed father, he quietly absented himself -from her. And that father--that good, honorable, level-headed man--had -ended his life by committing suicide. He had never understood it. It was -a most bitter and stinging mystery to him even now, and he glanced at -the box of dusty, faded letters on the floor beside him. - -"Vesper," said Mrs. Nimmo, "do you find anything interesting among those -letters of your father?" - -"Not my father's. There is not one of his among them. Indeed, I think he -never could have opened this box. Did you ever know of his doing so?" - -"I cannot tell. They have been up in the attic ever since I was married. -He examined some of the boxes, then he asked you to do it. He was always -busy, too busy. He worked himself to death," and a tear fell on her -black dress. - -"I wish now that I had done as he requested," said the young man, -gravely. "There are some questions that I should have asked him. Do you -remember ever hearing him say anything about the death of my -great-grandfather?" - -She reflected a minute. "It seems to me that I have. He was the first of -your father's family to come to this country. There is a faint -recollection in my mind of having heard that he--well, he died in some -sudden way," and she stopped in confusion. - -"It comes back to me now," said Vesper. "Was he not the old man who got -out of bed, when his nurse was in the next room, and put a pistol to his -head?" - -"I daresay," said his mother, slowly. "Of course it was temporary -insanity." - -"Of course." - -"Why do you ask?" she went on, curiously. "Do you find his name among -the old documents?" - -Vesper understood her better than to make too great a mystery of a thing -that he wished to conceal. "Yes, there is a letter from him." - -"I should like to read it," she said, fussily fumbling at her waist for -her spectacle-case. - -Vesper indifferently turned his head towards her. "It is very long." - -Her enthusiasm died away, and she sank back in her rocking-chair. - -"My great-grandfather shot himself, and my grandfather was lost at sea," -pursued the young man, dreamily. - -"Yes," she said, reluctantly; then she added, "my people all die in -bed." - -"His ship caught on fire." - -She shuddered. "Yes; no one escaped." - -"All burnt up, probably; and if they took to their boats they must have -died of starvation, for they were never heard of." - -They were both silent, and the same thought was in their minds. Was this -very cool and calm young man, sitting staring into the fire, to end his -days in the violent manner peculiar to the rugged members of his -father's family, or was he to die according to the sober and methodical -rule of the peaceful members of his mother's house? - -Out of the depths of a quick maternal agony she exclaimed, "You are more -like me than your father." - -Her son gave her an assenting and affectionate glance, though he knew -that she knew he was not at all like her. He even began to fancy, in a -curious introspective fashion, whether he should have cared at all for -this little white-haired lady if he had happened to have had another -woman for a mother. The thought amused him, then he felt rebuked, and, -leaning over, he took one of the white hands on her lap and kissed it -gently. - -"We should really investigate our family histories in this country more -than we do," he said. "I wish that I had questioned my father about his -ancestors. I know almost nothing of them. Mother," he went on, -presently, "have you ever heard of the expulsion of the Acadiens?" and -bending over the sticks of wood neatly laid beside him, he picked up one -and gazed at a little excrescence in the bark which bore some -resemblance to a human face. - -"Oh, yes," she replied, with gentle rebuke, "do you not remember that I -used to know Mr. Longfellow?" - -Vesper slowly, and almost caressingly, submitted the stick of wood to -the leaping embrace of the flames that rose up to catch it. "What is -your opinion of his poem 'Evangeline?'" - -"It was a pretty thing,--very pretty and very sad. I remember crying -over it when it came out." - -"You never heard that our family had any connection with the expulsion?" - -"No, Vesper, we are not French." - -"No, we certainly are not," and he relapsed into silence. - -"I think I will run over to Nova Scotia, next week," he said, when she -presently got up to leave the room. "Will you let Henry find out about -steamers and trains?" - -"Yes, if you think you must go," she said, wistfully. "I daresay the -steamer would be easier for you." - -"The steamer then let it be." - -"And if you must go I will have to look over your clothes. It will be -cool there, like Maine, I fancy. You must take warm things," and she -glided from the room. - -"I wish you would not bother about them," he said; "they are all right." -But she did not hear him. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - A MESSAGE FROM THE DEAD. - - "The glossing words of reason and of song, - To tell of hate and virtue to defend, - May never set the bitter deed aright, - Nor satisfy the ages with the wrong." - - J. F. HERBIN. - - -"Now let me read this effusion of my thoughtless grandparent once more," -said Vesper, and he took the top paper from the box and ran over its -contents in a murmuring voice. - - I, John Matthew Nimmo, a Scotchman, born in Glasgow, at present a - dying man, in the town of Halifax, Nova Scotia, leave this last - message for my son Thomas Nimmo, now voyaging on the high seas. - - My son Thomas, by the will of God, you, my only child, are abroad - at this time of great disease and distress with me. My eyes will - be closed in death ere you return, and I am forced to commit to - paper the words I would fain have spoken with living voice to you. - - You, my son, have known me as a hard and stern man. By the grace - of God my heart is now humbled and like that of a little child. My - son, my son, by the infinite mercies of our Saviour, let me - supplicate you not to leave repentance to a dying bed. On the - first day of the last week, I, being stricken down with paralysis, - lay here on my couch. The room was quiet; I was alone. Suddenly I - heard a great noise, and the weeping and wailing of women and - children, and the groans of men. Then a heavy bell began to toll, - and a light as of a bright fire sprang up against my wall. - - I entered into a great swoon, in which I seemed to be a young man - again,--a stout and hearty man, a high liver, a proud swearer. I - had on my uniform; there was a sword in my hand. I trod the deck - of my stout ship, the _Confidence_. I heard the plash of waves - against the sides, and I lifted my haughty eyes to heaven; I was - afraid of none, no not the ruler of the universe. - - Down under the planks that my foot pressed were prisoners, to wit, - the Acadiens, that we were carrying to the port of Boston. What - mattered their sufferings to me? I did not think of them. I called - for a bottle of wine, and looked again over the sea, and wished - for a fair wind so that we might the sooner enter our prisoners at - the port of Boston, and make merry with our friends. - - My son, as I, in my swoon, contemplated my former self, it is not - in the power of mortal man to convey to you my awful scorn of what - I then was,--my gross desires, my carnal wishes. I was no better - than the beasts of the fields. - - After a time, as I trod the deck, a young Acadien was brought - before me. My officers said that he had been endeavouring to stir - up a mutiny among the prisoners, and had urged them to make - themselves masters of the ship and to cast us into the sea. - - I called him a Papist dog. I asked him whether he wished to be - thrown to the fishes. I could speak no French, but he knew - somewhat of English, and he answered me proudly. He stretched out - his hand to the smoking village of Grand Pré that we were - leaving. He called to heaven for a judgment to be sent down on the - English for their cruelty. - - I struck him to the deck. He could not rise. I thought he would - not; but in a brief space of time he was dead, the last words on - his lips a curse on me and my children, and a wish that in our - dying moments we might suffer some of the torments he was then - enduring. I had his body rolled into the sea, and I forgot him, my - son. In the unrighteous work to which I had put my hand in the - persecution of the French, a death more or less was a circumstance - to be forgotten. - - I was then a young man, and in all the years that have intervened - I have been oblivious of him. The hand of the Lord has been laid - upon me; I have been despoiled of my goods; nothing that I have - done has prospered; and yet I give you my solemn word I never, - until now, in these days of dying, have reflected that a curse has - been upon me and will descend to you, my son, and to your sons - after you. - - Therefore, I leave this solemn request. Methinks I shall not lie - easy in my narrow bed until that some of my descendants have made - restitution to the seed of the Frenchman. I bethink me that he was - one Le Noir, called the Fiery Frenchman of Grand Pré, from a - birthmark on his face, but of his baptismal name I am ignorant. - That he was a married man I well know, for one cause of his - complaint was that he had been separated from his wife and child, - which thing was not of my doing, but by the orders of Governor - Lawrence, who commanded the men and the women to be embarked - apart. But seek them not in the city of Boston, my son, nor in - that of Philadelphia, where his young wife was carried, but come - back to this old Acadien land, whither the refugees are now - tending. Ah me! it seems that I am yet a young man, that he is - still alive,--the man whom I killed. Alas! I am old and about to - die, but, my son, by the love and compassion of God, let me - entreat you to carry out the wishes of your father. Seek the - family of the Frenchman; make restitution, even to the half of - your goods, or you will have no prosperity in this world nor any - happiness in the world to come. If you are unable to carry out - this, my last wish, let this letter be handed to your children. - Eschew riotous living, and fold in your heart my saying, that the - forcible dispossession of the Acadien people from their land and - properties was an unrighteous and unholy act, brought about - chiefly by the lust of hatred and greed on the part of that - iniquitous man, Governor Lawrence, of this province, and his - counsellors. - - May God have mercy on my soul. Your father, soon to be a clod of - clay, - - JOHN MATTHEW NIMMO. - - HALIFAX, May 9, 1800. - -With a slight shudder Vesper dropped the letter back in the box and -wiped the dust from his fingers. "Unhappy old man,--there is not the -slightest evidence that his callous son Thomas paid any heed to his -exhortations. I can imagine the contempt with which he would throw this -letter aside; he would probably remark that his father had lost his -mind. And yet was it a superstition about altering the fortunes of the -family that made him shortly after exchange his father's grant of land -in Nova Scotia for one in this State?" and he picked up another faded -document, this one of parchment and containing a record of the transfer -of certain estates in the vicinity of the town of Boston to Thomas -Nimmo, removing from Halifax, Nova Scotia, to the State of -Massachusetts. - -"Then Thomas got burnt for despising the commands of his father; but my -poor sire,--where does his guilt come in? He did not know of the -existence of this letter,--that I could swear, for with his kind heart -and streak of romance he would have looked up this Acadien ghost and -laid it. If I were also romantic, I should say it killed him. As it is, -I shall stick to my present opinion that he killed himself by overwork. - -"Now, shall I be cynical and let this thing go, or shall I, like a -knight of the Middle Ages, or an adventurous fool of the present, set -out in quest of the seed of the Fiery Frenchman? _Ciel!_ I have already -decided. It is a floating feather to pursue, an occupation just serious -enough for my convalescent state. _En route_, then, for Acadie," and he -closed his eyes and sank into a reverie, which was, after the lapse of -an hour, interrupted by the entrance of the colored boy with a handful -of papers. - -"Good boy, Henry," said his master, approvingly. - -"Mis' Nimmo, she tole me to hurry," said the boy, with a flash of his -resplendent ivories, "'cause she never like you to wait for nothing. So -I jus' run down to Washington Street." - -Vesper smiled, and took up one of the folders. "H'm, Evangeline route. -The Nova Scotians are smart enough to make capital out of the -poem--Henry, come rub my left ankle, there is some rheumatism in it. -What is this? 'The Dominion Atlantic Railway have now completed their -magnificent system to the Hub of the Universe by placing on the route -between it and Nova Scotia a steamship named after one of the -heirs-presumptive of the British throne.' Henry, where is the Hub of the -Universe?" - -Henry looked up from the hearth-rug. "I dunno, sir; ain't it heaven?" - -"It ought to be," said the young man; and he went on, "'This steamship -is a dream of beauty, with the lines of an exquisite yacht. Her -appointments are as perfect as taste and science can suggest, in -music-room, dining-room, smoking-room, parlor, staterooms, bathrooms, -and all other apartments. The cabinet work is in solid walnut and oak, -the softened light falling through domes and panels of stained glass, -the upholstery is in figured and other velvets, the tapestries are of -silk. There is a perfect _cuisine_, and a union of comfort and luxury -throughout.'" - -The young man laid down the folder. "How would you like to go to sea in -that royal craft, Henry?" - -"It sounds fine," said the boy, smacking his lips. - -"No mention is made of seasickness, nor of going to the bottom. A pity -it would be to waste all that finery on the fishes--don't rub quite so -hard. Let me see," and he took up the folder again. "What days does she -leave? Go to-morrow to the office, Henry, and engage the most -comfortable stateroom on this bit of magnificence for next Thursday." - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - FROM BOSTON TO ACADIE. - - "For this is in the land of Acadie, - The fairest place of all the earth and sea." - - J. F. H. - - -It is always amusing to be among a crowd of people on the Lewis Wharf, -in Boston, when a steamer is about to leave for the neighboring province -of Nova Scotia. The provincials are so slow, so deliberate, so -determined not to be hurried. The Americans are so brisk, so -expeditious, so bewildering in the multitude of things they will -accomplish in the briefest possible space of time. They surround the -provincials, they attempt to hurry them, to infuse a little more life -into their exercises of volition, to convince them that a busy wharf is -not the place to weigh arguments for or against a proposed course of -action, yet the provincials will not be hurried; they stop to plan, -consider, deliberate, and decide, and in the end they arrive at -satisfactory conclusions without one hundredth part of the worry and -vexation of soul which shortens the lives of their more nervous cousins, -the Americans. - -At noon, on the Thursday following his decision to go to Nova Scotia, -Vesper Nimmo stood on the deck of the _Royal Edward_, a smile on his -handsome face,--a shrewd smile, that deepened and broadened whenever he -looked towards the place where stood his mother, with a fluffy white -shawl wrapped around her throat, and the faithful Henry for a bodyguard. - -Express wagons, piled high with towers of Babel in the shape of trunks -that shook and quivered and threatened to fall on unsuspecting heads, -rattled down and discharged their contents on the already congested -wharf, where intending passengers, escorting friends, custom officials, -and wharf men were talking, gesticulating, admonishing, and escaping -death in varied forms, such as by crushing, falling, squeezing, deaths -by exhaustion, by kicks from nervous horse legs, or by fright from being -swept into the convenient black pool of the harbor. - -However, scorning the danger, the crowd talked and jabbered on, until, -finally, the last bit of freight, the last bit of luggage, was on board. -A signal was given, the ambulance drew back,--the dark and mournful -wagon from which, alas, at nearly every steamer's trip, a long, light -box is taken, in which one Canadian is going home quite still and mute. - -A swarm of stewards from the steamer descended upon their quarry, the -passengers, and a separation was made between the sheep and the foolish -goats, in the company's eyes, who would not be persuaded to seek the -fair Canadian pastures. Carefully the stewards herded and guarded their -giddy sheep to the steamer, often turning back to recover one skipping -behind for a last parley with the goats. At last they were all up the -gangway, the gorgeous ship swung her princely nose to the stream, and -Vesper Nimmo felt himself really off for Nova Scotia. - -He waved an adieu to his mother, then drew back to avoid an onset of -stolid, red-cheeked Canadian sheep and lambs, who pressed towards the -railing, some with damp handkerchiefs at their eyes, others cheerfully -exhorting the goats to write soon. - -His eye fell on a delicate slip of a girl, with consumption written all -over her shaking form; and, swinging on his heel, he went to stroll -about the decks, and watch, with proud and passionate concealed emotion, -the yellow receding dome of the State House. He had been brought up in -the shadow of that ægis. It was almost as sacred to him as the blue sky -above, and not until he could no longer see it did he allow his eyes to -wander over other points of interest of the historic harbor. How many -times his sturdy New England forefathers had dropped their hoes to man -the ships that sailed over these blue waters, to hew down the Agag of -Acadie! What a bloodthirsty set they were in those days! Indians, -English, French,--how they harried, and worried, and bit, and tore at -each other! - -He thoughtfully smoothed the little silky mustache that adorned his -upper lip, and murmured, "Thank heaven, I go on a more peaceful errand." - -Once out of the harbor, and feeling the white deck beneath his feet -gracefully dipping to meet the swell of the ocean, he found a seat and -drew a guide-book from his pocket. Of ancient Acadie he knew something, -but of this modern Acadie he had, strange to say, felt no curiosity, -although it lay at his very doors, until he had discovered the letter of -his great-grandfather. - -The day was warm and sunshiny. It was the third of June, and for some -time he sat quietly reading and bathed in golden light. Then across his -calm, peaceful state of content, stole a feeling scarcely to be -described, and so faint that it was barely perceptible. He was not quite -happy. The balm had gone from the air; the spirit of the writer, who so -eloquently described the lure of the Acadien land, no longer communed -with his. He read on, knowing what was coming, yet resolved not to yield -until he was absolutely forced to do so. - -In half an hour he had flung down his book, and was in his stateroom, -face downward, his window wide open, his body gently swaying to and fro -with the motion of the steamer, the salt air deliciously lapping his -ears, the back of his neck, and his hands, but unable to get at his -face, obstinately buried in the pillow. - -"Sick, sir?" inquired a brisk voice, with a delicate note of suggestion. - -Vesper uncovered one eye, and growled, "No,--shut that door." - -The steward disappeared, and did not return for some hours, while -Vesper's whole sensitive system passed into a painless agony, the only -movement he made being to turn himself over on his back, where he lay, -apparently calm and happy, and serenely staring at the white ceiling of -his dainty cell. - -"Can I do anything for you, sir?" asked the steward's voice once more. - -Vesper, who would not have spoken if he had been offered the _Royal -Edward_ full of gold pieces, did not even roll an eyeball at him, but -kept on gravely staring upward. - -"Your collar's choking you, sir," said the man, coming forward; and he -deftly slipped a stud from its place and laid it on the wash-stand. -"Shall I take off your boots?" - -Vesper submitted to having his boots withdrawn, and his feet covered, -with as much indifference as if they belonged to some other man, and -continued to spend the rest of the day and the night in the same state -of passivity. Towards morning he had a vague wish to know the time, but -it did not occur to him, any more than it would have occurred to a stone -image, to put up his hand to the watch in his breast pocket. - -Daylight came, then sunlight streaming into his room, and cheery sounds -of voices without, but he did not stir. Not until the thrill of contact -with the land went through the steamer did he spring to his feet, like a -man restored to consciousness by galvanic action. He was the first -passenger to reach the wharf, and the steward, who watched him going, -remarked sarcastically that he was glad to see "that 'ere dead man come -to life." - -Vesper was himself again when his feet touched the shore. He looked -about him, saw the bright little town of Yarmouth, black rocks, a blue -harbor, and a glorious sky. His contemplation of the landscape over, he -reflected that he was faint from hunger. He turned his back on the -steamer, where his fellow passengers had recently breakfasted at fine -tables spread under a ceiling of milky white and gold, and hurried to a -modest eating-house near by from which a savory smell of broiled steak -and fried potatoes floated out on the morning air. - -He entered it, and after a hasty wash and brush-up ate his breakfast -with frantic appetite. He now felt that he had received a new lease of -life, and buttoning his collar up around his neck, for the temperature -was some degrees lower than that of his native city, he hurried back to -the wharf, where the passengers and the customs men were quarrelling as -if they had been enemies for life. - -With ingratiating and politic calmness he pointed out his trunk and -bicycle, assured the suspicious official that although he was an -American he was honest and had nothing to sell and nothing dutiable in -the former, and that he had not the slightest objection to paying the -thirty per cent deposit required on the latter; then, a prey to inward -laughter at the enlivening spectacle of open trunks and red faces, he -proceeded to the railway station, looking about him for other signs that -he was in a foreign country. - -Nova Scotia was very like Maine so far. Here were the Maine houses, the -Maine trees and rocks, even the Maine wild flowers by the side of the -road. He thoughtfully boarded the train, scrutinized the comfortable -parlor-car, and, after the lapse of half an hour, decided that he was -not in Maine, for, if he had been, the train would certainly have -started. - -As he was making this reflection, a dapper individual, in light -trousers, a shiny hat, and with the indescribable air of being a -travelling salesman, entered the car where Vesper sat in solitary -grandeur. - -Vesper slightly inclined his head, and the stranger, dropping a neat -leather bag in the seat next him, observed, "We had a good passage." - -"Very good," replied Vesper. - -"Nobody sick," pursued the dapper individual, taking off his hat, -brushing it, and carefully replacing it on his head. - -"I should think not," returned Vesper; then he consulted his watch. "We -are late in starting." - -"We're always late," observed the newcomer, tartly. "This is your first -trip down here?" - -Vesper, with the reluctance of his countrymen to admit that they have -done or are doing something for the first time, did not contradict his -statement. - -"I've been coming to this province for ten years," said his companion. -"I represent Stone and Warrior." - -Vesper knew Stone and Warrior's huge dry-goods establishment, and had -due respect for the opinion of one of their travellers. - -"And when we start we don't go," said the dry-goods man. "This train -doesn't dare show its nose in Halifax before six o'clock, so she's just -got to put in the time somewhere. Later in the season they'll clap on -the Flying Bluenose, which makes them think they're flying through the -air, because she spurts and gets in two hours earlier. How far are you -going?" - -"I don't know; possibly to Grand Pré." - -"A pretty country there, but no big farms,--kitchen-gardening compared -with ours." - -"That is where the French used to be." - -"Yes, but there ain't one there now. The most of the French in the -province are down here." - -Vesper let his surprised eyes wander out through the car window. - -"Pretty soon we'll begin to run through the woods. There'll be a shanty -or two, a few decent houses and a station here and there, and you'd -think we were miles from nowhere, but at the same time we're running -abreast of a village thirty-five miles long." - -"That is a good length." - -"The houses are strung along the shores of this Bay," continued the -salesman, leaning over and tapping the map spread on Vesper's knee. "The -Bay is forty miles long." - -"Why didn't they build the railway where the village is?" - -"That's Nova Scotia," said the salesman, drily. "Because the people were -there, they put the railroad through the woods. They beat the Dutch." - -"Can't they make money?" - -"Like the mischief, if they want to," and the salesman settled back in -his seat and put his hands in his pockets. "It makes me smile to hear -people talking about these green Nova Scotians. They'll jump ahead of -you in a bargain as quick as a New Yorker when they give their minds to -it. But I'll add 'em up in one word,--they don't care." - -Vesper did not reply, and, after a minute's pause his companion went on, -with waxing indignation. "They ought to have been born in the cannibal -isles, every man Jack of 'em, where they could sit outdoors all day and -pick up cocoanuts or eat each other. Upon my life, you can stand in the -middle of Halifax, which is their capital city, and shy a stone at half -a dozen banks and the post-office, and look down and see grass growing -between the bricks at your feet." - -"Very unprogressive," murmured Vesper. - -The salesman relented. "But I've got some good chums there, and I must -say they've got a lot of soft soap,--more than we have." - -"That is, better manners?" - -"Exactly; but"--and he once more hardened his heart against the Nova -Scotians,--"they've got more time than we have. There ain't so many of -'em. Look at our Boston women at a bargain-counter,--you've got a lot of -curtains at four dollars a pair. You can't sell 'em. You run 'em up to -six dollars and advertise, 'Great drop on ten-dollar curtains.' The -women rush to get 'em. How much time have they to be polite? About as -much as a pack of wolves." - -"What is the population of Halifax?" asked Vesper. - -"About forty thousand," said the salesman, lolling his head on the back -of the seat, and running his sentences as glibly from his lips as if he -were reciting a lesson, "and a sly, sleepy old place it is, with lots of -money in it, and people pretending they are poor. Suburbs fine, but the -city dirty from the soft coal they burn. A board fence around every lot -you could spread a handkerchief on,--so afraid neighbors will see into -their back yards. If they'd knock down their fences, pick up a little of -the trash in the streets, and limit the size of their hotel keys, they'd -get on." - -"Are there any French people there?" - -The salesman was not interested in the French. "No," he said, "not that -I ever heard of. They could make lots of money there," he went on, with -enthusiasm, "if they'd wake up. You know there's an English garrison, -and our girls like the military; but these blamed provincials, though -they've got a big pot of jam, won't do anything to draw our rich flies, -not even as much as to put up a bathing-house. They don't care a -continental. - -"There's a hotel beyond Halifax where a big excursion from New York used -to go every year. Last year the manager said, 'If you don't clean up -your old hotel, and put a decent boat on the lake, you'll never see me -again.' The hotel proprietor said, 'I guess this house is clean enough -for us, and we haven't been spilt out of the boat yet, and you and your -excursion can go to Jericho.' So the excursion goes to Jericho now, and -the hotel man gets more time for sleep." - -"Have you ever been in this French village?" asked Vesper. - -"No," and the salesman stifled a yawn. "I only call at the principal -towns, where the big stores are. Good Lord! I wish those -stick-in-the-muds would come up from the wharf. If I knew how to run an -engine I'd be off without 'em," and he strolled to the car door. "It's -as quiet as death down there. The passengers must have chopped up the -train-hands and thrown 'em in the water. If my wife made up her mind to -move to this province, I'd die in ten days, for I'd have so much time to -think over my sins. Glory hallelujah, here they come!" and he returned -to his seat. "The whole tribe of 'em, edging along as if they were a -funeral procession and we were the corpses on ahead. We're off," he -said, jocularly, to Vesper, and he kicked out his little dapper legs, -stuck his ticket in the front of his shiny hat, and sank into a seat, -where he was soon asleep. - -Vesper was rather out of his reckoning. It had not occurred to him, in -spite of Longfellow's assurance about naught but tradition remaining of -the beautiful village of Grand Pré, that no French were really to be -found there. Now, according to the salesman, he should look for the -Acadiens in this part of the province. However, if the French village -was thirty-five miles long there was no hurry about leaving the train, -and he settled back and watched his fellow passengers leisurely climbing -the steps. Among those who entered the parlor-car was a stout, -gentlemanly man, gesticulating earnestly, although his hands were full -of parcels, and turning every instant to look with a quick, bright eye -into the face of his companion, who was a priest. - -The priest left him shortly after they entered the car, and the stout -man sat down and unfolded a newspaper on which the name and place of -publication--_L'Évangéline, Journal Hebdomadaire, Weymouth_--met -Vesper's eye with grateful familiarity. The title was, of course, a -pathetic reminder of the poem. Weymouth, and he glanced at his map, was -in the line of villages along the bay. - -The gentleman for a time read the paper intently. Then his nervous hands -flung it down, and Vesper, leaning over, politely asked if he would lend -it to him. - -It was handed to him with a bow, and the young American was soon deep in -its contents. It had been founded in the interests of the Acadiens of -the Maritime Provinces, he read in fluent modern French, which greatly -surprised him, as he had expected to be confronted by some curious -_patois_ concocted by this remnant of a foreign race isolated so long -among the English. He read every word of the paper,--the cards of -professional men, the advertisements of shopkeepers, the remarks on -agriculture, the editorials on Canadian politics, the local news, and -the story by a Parisian novelist. Finally he returned _L'Évangéline_ to -its owner, whose quick eyes were looking him all over in mingled -curiosity and gratification, which at last culminated in the remark that -it was a fine morning. - -Vesper, with slow, quiet emphasis, which always imparted weight and -importance to his words, assented to this, with the qualification that -it was chilly. - -"It is never very warm here until the end of June," said the stout -gentleman, with a courteous gesture, "but I find this weather most -agreeable for wheeling. I am shortly to leave the train and take to my -bicycle for the remainder of my journey." - -Vesper asked him whether there was a good road along the shores of the -Bay. - -"The best in the province, but I regret to say that the roads to it from -the stations are cut up by heavy teaming." - -"And the hotels,--are they good?" - -"According to the guide-books there are none in Frenchtown," said the -gentleman, with lively sarcasm. "I know of one or two where one can be -comfortable. Here, for instance," and one of his facile hands indicated -a modest advertisement in _L'Évangéline_. - - Sleeping Water Inn. This inn, well patronized in the past, is still - the rendezvous for tourists, bicyclists, etc. The house is airy, - and the table is good. A trustworthy teamster is always at the - train to carry trunks and valises to the inn. Rose de Forêt, - Proprietress. - -Vesper looked up, to find his neighbor smiling involuntarily. "Pardon -me," he said, with contrition, "I am thinking that you would find the -house satisfactory." - -"It is kept by a woman?" - -"Yes," said the stranger, with preternatural gravity; "Rose à -Charlitte." - -Vesper said nothing, and his face was rarely an index of his thoughts, -yet the stranger, knowing in some indefinable way that he wished for -further information, continued. "On the Bay, the friendly fashion -prevails of using only the first name. Rose à Charlitte is rarely called -Madame de Forêt." - -Vesper saw that some special interest attached to the proprietress of -the Acadien inn, yet did not see his way clear to find out what it was. -His new acquaintance, however, had a relish for his subject of -conversation, and pursued it with satisfaction. "She is very -remarkable, and makes money, yet I hope that fate will intervene to -preserve her from a life which is, perhaps, too public for a woman of -her stamp. A rich uncle, one Auguste Le Noir, whose beautiful home among -orange and fig trees on the Bayou Vermillon in Louisiana I visited last -year, may perhaps rescue her. Not that she does anything at all out of -the way," he added, hastily, "but she is beautiful and young." - -Vesper repressed a slight start at the mention of the name Le Noir, then -asked calmly if it was a common one among the Acadiens. - -The Le Noirs and Le Blancs, the gentleman assured him, were as -plentiful as blackberries, while as to Melançons, there were eighty -families of them on the Bay. "This has given rise to the curious -house-that-Jack-built system of naming," he said. "There is Jean à -Jacques Melançon, which is Jean, the son of Jacques,--Jean à Basile, -Jean à David, and sometimes Jean à Martin à Conrade à Benoit Melançon, -but"--and he checked himself quickly--"I am, perhaps, wearying you with -all this?" He was as a man anxious, yet hesitating, to impart -information, and Vesper hastened to assure him that he was deeply -interested in the Acadiens. - -The cloud swept from the face of the vivacious gentleman. "You gratify -me. The old prejudice against my countrymen still lingers in this -province in the shape of indifference. I rarely discuss them unless I -know my listener." - -"Have I the pleasure of addressing an Acadien?" asked Vesper. - -"I have the honor to be one," said the stout gentleman, and his face -flushed like that of a girl. - -Vesper gave him a quick glance. This was the first Acadien that he had -ever seen, and he was about as far removed from the typical Acadien that -he had pictured to himself as a man could be. This man was a gentleman. -He had expected to find the Acadiens, after all the trials they had gone -through in their dispossession of property and wanderings by sea and -land, degenerated into a despoiled and poverty-stricken remnant of -peasantry. Curiously gratified by the discovery that here was one who -had not gone under in the stress of war and persecution, he remarked -that his companion was probably well-informed on the subject of the -expulsion of his countrymen from this province. - -"The expulsion,--ah!" said the gentleman, in a repressed voice. Then, -unable to proceed, he made a helpless gesture and turned his face -towards the window. - -The younger man thought that there were tears in his eyes, and forbore -to speak. - -"One mentions it so calmly nowadays," said the Acadien, presently, -looking at him. "There is no passion, no resentment, yet it is a living -flame in the breast of every true Acadien, and this is the reason,--it -is a tragedy that is yet championed. It is commonly believed that the -deportation of the Acadiens was a necessity brought about by their -stubbornness." - -"That is the view I have always taken of it," said Vesper, mildly. "I -have never looked into the subject exhaustively, but my conclusion from -desultory reading has been that the Acadiens were an obstinate set of -people who dictated terms to the English, which, as a conquered race, -they should not have done, and they got transported for it." - -"Then let me beg you, my dear sir, to search into the matter. If you -happen to visit the Sleeping Water Inn, ask for Agapit Le Noir. He is an -enthusiast on the subject, and will inform you; and if at any time you -find yourself in our beautiful city of Halifax, may I not beg the -pleasure of a call? I shall be happy to lay before you some historical -records of our race," and he offered Vesper a card on which was -engraved, Dr. Bernardin Arseneau, Barrington Street, Halifax. - -Vesper took the card, thanked him, and said, "Shall I find any of the -descendants of the settlers of Grand Pré among the Acadiens on this -Bay?" - -"Many, many of them. When the French first came to Nova Scotia, they -naturally selected the richest portions of the province. At the -expulsion these farms were seized. When, through incredible hardships, -they came struggling back to this country that they so much loved, they -could not believe that their lands would not be restored to them. Many -of them trudged on foot to fertile Grand Pré, to Port Royal, and other -places. They looked in amazement at the settlers who had taken their -homes. You know who they were?" - -"No, I do not," said Vesper. - -"They were your own countrymen, my dear sir, if, as I rightly judge, you -come from the United States. They came to this country, and found -waiting for them the fertile fields whose owners had been seized, -imprisoned, tortured, and carried to foreign countries, some years -before. Such is the justice of the world. For their portion the returned -Acadiens received this strip of forest on the Bay Saint-Mary. You will -see what they have made of it," and, with a smile at once friendly and -sad, the stout gentleman left the train and descended to a little -station at which they had just pulled up. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - THE SLEEPING WATER INN. - - "Montrez-moi votre menu et je vous montrerai mon coeur." - - -A few minutes later, the train had again entered the forest, and Vesper, -who had a passion for trees and ranked them with human beings in his -affections, allowed the mystery and charm of these foreigners to steal -over him. In dignified silence and reserve the tall pines seemed to draw -back from the rude contact of the passing train. The more assertive firs -and spruces stood still, while the slender hackmatacks, most beautiful -of all the trees of the wood, writhed and shook with fright, nervously -tossing their tremulous arms and tasselled heads, and breathing long -odoriferous sighs that floated after, but did not at all touch the -sympathies of the roaring monster from the outer world who so often -desecrated their solitude. - -Vesper's delicate nostrils dilated as the spicy odors saluted them, and -he thought, with tenderness, of the home trees that he loved, the elms -of the Common and those of the square where he had been born. How many -times he had encircled them with admiring footsteps, noting the -individual characteristics of each tree, and giving to each one a -separate place in his heart. Just for an instant he regretted that for -to-night he could not lie down in their shadow. Then he turned irritably -to the salesman, who was stretching and shaking out his legs, and -performing other calisthenic exploits as accompaniments of waking. - -"Haven't we come to Great Scott yet?" he asked, getting up, and -sauntering to Vesper's window. - -Vesper consulted his folder. Among the French names he could discover -nothing like this, unless it was Grosses Coques, so called, his -guide-book told him, because the Acadiens had discovered enormous clams -there. - -The salesman settled the question by dabbing at the name with his fat -forefinger. "Confound these French names, and thank the Lord they're -beginning to give them up. This Sleeping Water we're coming to used to -be _L'Eau Dormante_. If I had my way, I'd string up on these pines every -fellow that spoke a word of this gibberish. That would cure 'em. Why -can't they have one language, as we do?" - -"How would you like to talk French?" asked Vesper, quietly. - -The little man laughed shrewdly, and not unkindly. "Every man to his -liking. I guess it's best not to fight too much." - -"I get off here," said Vesper, gathering up his papers. - -"Happy you,--you won't have to wait for all of Evangeline's heifers to -step off the track between here and Halifax." - -Vesper nodded to him, and, swinging himself from the car, went to find -the conductor. - -There was ample time to get that gentlemanly official's consent to have -his wheel and trunk put off at this station, instead of at Grand Pré, -and ample time for Vesper to give a long look at the names in the line -of cars, which were, successively, Basil the Blacksmith, Benedict the -Father, René the Notary, and Gabriel the Lover, before the locomotive -snuffed its nostrils and, panting and heaving, started off to trail its -romantic appendages through the country of Evangeline. - -When the train had disappeared, Vesper looked about him. He was no -longer in the heart of the forest. An open country and scattering houses -appeared in the distance, and here he could distinctly feel a -mischievous breeze from the Bay that playfully ruffled his hair, and -tossed back the violets at his feet every time that they bent over to -look at their own sweet faces in the black, mirror-like pool of water -set in a mossy bed beside them. - -He stooped and picked one of the wistful purple blossoms, then stepped -up on the platform of the gabled station-house. Inside the kitchen, a -woman, sitting with her back to the passing trains, was spinning, and at -the same time rocking a cradle, while near the door stood an individual -who, to Vesper's secret amusement, might have posed either as a member -of the human species, or as one of the class _aves_. - -He had many times seen the fellows of this white-haired, smooth-faced -old man, in the Southern States in the shape of cardinal-birds. Those -resplendent creatures in the male sex are usually clothed in gay red -jackets. This male's plumage was also red, but, unlike the -cardinal-birds, it had a trimming of pearl buttons and white lace. The -bird's high and conical crest was expressed in the man by a pointed red -cap. The bird is nondescript as to the legs,--so also was the man; and -the loud and musical note of the Southern songster was reproduced in the -fife-like tones of the Acadien, when he presently spoke. - -He was an official, and carried in his hand a locked bag containing her -Majesty's mail for her Acadien subjects of the Bay. Vesper had seen the -mail-carriers along the route, tossing their bags to the passing train, -and receiving others in return, but none as gorgeous as this one, and he -was wondering why the gentle-faced septuagenarian made himself so -peculiar, when he was addressed in a sweet, high voice. - -"Sir," said the bird-man, in French,--for was he not Emmanuel Victor De -la Rive, lineal descendant of a French marquis who had married a queen's -maid of honor, and had subsequently bequeathed his bones and his large -family of children to his adored Acadie?--"Sir, is it possible that you -are a guest for the inn?" - -"It is possible," said Vesper, gravely. - -"Alas!" said the old man, turning to the dark-eyed woman, who had left -her cradle and spinning-wheel, "is it not always so? When Rose à -Charlitte does not send, there are arrivals. When she does, there are -not. She will be in despair. Sir, shall I have the honor of taking you -over in my road-cart?" - -"I have a wheel," said Vesper, pointing to the bicycle, leaning -disconsolately against his trunk. - -The black-eyed woman immediately put out her hand for his checks. - -"Then may I have the honor of showing you the way?" said Monsieur De la -Rive, bowing before Vesper as if he were a divinity. "There are sides of -the road which it is well to avoid." - -"I shall be most happy to avail myself of your offer." - -"I will send the trunk over," said the station woman. "There is a -constant going that way." - -Vesper thanked her, and left the station in the wake of the -cardinal-bird, who sat perched on his narrow seat as easily as if it -were a branch of a tree, turning his crested head at frequent intervals -to look anxiously at the mail-bag which, for reasons best known to -himself, he carried slung to a nail in the back of his cart. - -At frequent intervals, too, he piped shrill and sweet remarks to Vesper. -"Courage; the road will soon improve. It is the ox-teams that cut it up. -They load schooners in the Bay. Here at last is a good spot. Monsieur -can mount now. Beware of the sharp stones. All the bones of the earth -stick up in places. Does monsieur intend to stay long in Sleeping Water? -Was it monsieur that Rose à Charlitte expected when she drove through -the pouring rain to the station, two days since? What did he say in the -letter that he sent yesterday in explanation of his change of plans? Did -monsieur come from Halifax, or Boston? Did he know Mrs. de la Rive, -laundress, of Cambridge Street? Had he samples of candy or tobacco in -that big box of his? How much did he charge a pound for his best -peppermints?" - -Vesper, fully occupied with keeping his wheel out of the ruts in the -road, and in maintaining a safe distance from the cart, which pressed -him sore if he went ahead and waited for him if he dallied behind, -answered "yes" and "no" at random, until at length he had involved -himself in such a maze of contradictions that Monsieur de la Rive felt -himself forced to pull up his brown pony and remonstrate. - -"But it is impossible, monsieur, that you should have seen Mrs. de la -Rive, who has been dying for weeks, dancing at the wedding of the -daughter of her step-uncle, the baker, and yet you say 'yes' when I -remark that she was not there." - -The stop and the remonstrance were so birdlike and so quick, that -Vesper, taken aback, fell off his wheel and broke his cyclometer. - -He picked himself out of the dust, swearing under his breath, and -Monsieur de la Rive, being a gentleman, and seeing that this quiet young -stranger was disinclined for conversation, suddenly whipped up his pony -and sped madly on ahead, the tails of his red coat streaming out behind -him, the tip of his pointed cap fluttering and nodding over his thick -white locks of hair. - -After the lapse of a few minutes, Vesper had recovered his composure, -and was looking calmly about him. The road was better now, and they were -nearing the Bay, that lay shimmering and shining like a great -sea-serpent coiled between purple hills. He did not know what Grand Pré -was like, and was therefore unaware of the extent of the Acadiens' loss -in being driven from it; but this was by no means a barren country. On -either side of him were fairly prosperous farms, each one with a light -painted wooden house, around which clustered usually a group of -children, presided over by a mother, who, as the mail-driver dashed by, -would appear in the doorway, thrusting forth her matronly face, often -partly shrouded by a black handkerchief. - -These black handkerchiefs, _la cape Normande_ of old France, were almost -universal on the heads of women and girls. He could see them in the -fields and up and down the roads. They and the vivacious sound of the -French tongue gave the foreign touch to his surroundings, which he -found, but for these reminders, might once again have been those of an -out-of-the-way district in some New England State. - -He noticed, with regret, that the forest had all been swept away. The -Acadiens, in their zeal for farming, had wielded their axes so -successfully that scarcely a tree had been left between the station and -the Bay. Here and there stood a lonely guardian angel, in the shape of a -solitary pine, hovering over some Acadien roof-tree, and turning a -melancholy face towards its brothers of the forest,--rugged giants -primeval, now prostrate and forlorn, and being trailed slowly along -towards the waiting schooners in the Bay. - -The most of these fallen giants were loaded on rough carts drawn by -pairs of sleek and well-kept oxen who were yoked by the horns. The carts -were covered with mud from the bad roads of the forest, and muddy also -were the boots of the stalwart Acadien drivers, who walked beside the -oxen, whip in hand, and turned frankly curious faces towards the -stranger who flashed by their slow-moving teams on his shining wheel. - -The road was now better, and Vesper quickly attained to the top of the -last hill between the station and the Bay. - -Ah! now the fields did not appear bare, the houses naked, the whole -country wind-swept and cold, for the wide, regal, magnificent Bay lay -spread out before him. It was no longer a thread of light, a sea-serpent -shining in the distance, but a great, broad, beautiful basin, on whose -placid bosom all the Acadien, New England, and Nova Scotian fleets might -float with never a jostle between any of their ships. - -A fire of admiration kindled in his calm eyes, and he allowed himself to -glide rapidly down the hill towards this brilliant blue sweep of water, -along whose nearer shores stretched, as far as his gaze could reach, the -curious dotted line of the French village. - -The country had become flat, as flat as Holland, and the fields rolled -down into the water in the softest, most exquisite shades of green, -according to the different kinds of grass or grain flourishing along the -shores. The houses were placed among the fields, some close together, -some far apart, all, however, but a stone's throw from the water's edge, -as if the Acadiens, fearful of another expulsion, held themselves always -in readiness to step into the procession of boats and schooners moored -almost in their dooryards. - -At the point where Vesper found himself threatened with precipitation -into the Bay, they struck the village line. Here, at the corner, was the -general shop and post-office of Sleeping Water. The cardinal-bird -fluttered his mail-bag in among the loafers at the door, saw the -shopkeeper catch it, then, swelling out his vermilion breast with -importance, he nimbly took the corner with one wheel in the air and -pulled up before the largest, whitest house on the street, and -flourished a flaming wing in the direction of a swinging sign,--"The -Sleeping Water Inn." - -Vesper, biting his lip to restrain a smile, rounded the corner after -him, and leisurely stepped from his wheel in front of the house. - -"Ring, sir, and enter," piped the bird, then, wishing him _bonne chance_ -(good luck), he flew away. - -Vesper pulled the bell, and, as no one answered his summons, he -sauntered through the open door into the hall. - -So this was an Acadien house,--and he had expected a log hut. He could -command a view from where he stood of a staircase, a smoking-room, and a -parlor,--all clean, cool, and comfortably furnished, and having easy -chairs, muslin curtains, books, and pictures. - -He smiled to himself, murmured "I wonder where the dining-room is? These -flies will probably know," and followed a prosperous-looking swarm -sailing through the hall to a distant doorway. - -A table, covered by a snowy cloth and set ready for a meal, stood before -him. He walked around it, rapped on a door, behind which he heard a -murmur of voices, and was immediately favored with a sight of an Acadien -kitchen. - -This one happened to be large, lofty, and of a grateful irregularity in -shape. The ceiling was as white as snow, and a delicate blue and cream -paper adorned the walls. The floor was of hard wood and partly covered -with brightly colored mats, made by the skilful fingers of Acadien -women. There were several windows and doors, and two pantries, but no -fireplace. An enormous Boston cooking range took its place. Every cover -on it glistened with blacking, every bit of nickel plating was polished -to the last degree, and, as if to show that this model stove could not -possibly be malevolent enough to throw out impurities in the way of soot -and ashes, there stood beside it a tall clothes-horse full of white -ironed clothes hung up to air. - -But the most remarkable thing in this exquisitely clean kitchen was the -mistress of the inn,--tall, willowy Mrs. Rose à Charlitte, who stood -confronting the newcomer with a dish-cover in one hand and a clean -napkin in the other, her pretty oval face flushed from some sacrifice -she had been offering up on her huge Moloch of a stove. - -[Illustration: "ROSE À CHARLITTE STOOD CONFRONTING THE NEWCOMER."] - -"Can you give me some lunch?" asked Vesper, and he wondered whether he -should find a descendant of the Fiery Frenchman in this placid beauty, -whose limpid blue eyes, girlish, innocent gaze, and thick braid of hair, -with the little confusion of curls on the forehead, reminded him rather -of a Gretchen or a Marguerite of the stage. - -"But yes," said Mrs. Rose à Charlitte, in uncertain yet pretty English, -and her gentle and demure glance scrutinized him with some shrewdness -and accurate guessing as to his attainments and station in life. - -"Can you give it to me soon?" he asked. - -"I can give it soon," she replied, and as she spoke she made an almost -imperceptible motion of her head in the direction of the neat -maid-servant behind her, who at once flew out to the garden for fresh -vegetables, while, with her foot, which was almost as slender as her -hand, Mrs. Rose à Charlitte pulled out a damper in the stove that at -once caused a still more urgent draft to animate the glowing wood -inside. - -"Can you let me have a room?" pursued Vesper. - -"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Rose, and she turned to the third occupant of the -kitchen, a pale child with a flowerlike face and large, serious eyes, -who sat with folded hands in a little chair. "Narcisse," she said, in -French, "wilt thou go and show the judge's room?" - -The child, without taking his fascinated gaze from Vesper, responded, in -a sweet, drawling voice, "_Ou-a-a-y, ma ma-r-re_" (yes, my mother). -Then, rising, he trotted slowly through the dining-room and up the -staircase to a hall above, where he gravely threw open the door of a -good-sized chamber, whose chief ornament was a huge white bed. - -"Why do you call this the judge's room?" asked Vesper, in French. - -The child answered him in unintelligible childish speech, that made the -young man observe him intently. "I believe you look like me, you black -lily," he said, at last. - -There was, indeed, a resemblance between their two heads. Both had pale, -inscrutable faces, dark eyes, and curls like midnight clustering over -their white foreheads. Both were serious, grave, and reserved in -expression. The child stared up at Vesper, then, seizing one of his -hands, he patted it gently with his tiny fingers. They were friends. - -[Illustration: "THEY WERE FRIENDS."] - -Vesper allowed the child to hold his hand until he plunged his head into -a basin of cold water. Then, with water dripping from his face, he -paused to examine a towel before he would press it against his sensitive -skin. It was fine and perfectly clean, and, with a satisfied air, he -murmured: "So far, Doctor Arseneau has not led me astray." - -The child waited patiently until the stranger had smoothed down his -black curls, then, stretching out a hand, he mutely invited him to -descend to the parlor. - -Upon arriving there, he modestly withdrew to a corner, after pointing -out a collection of photographs on the table. Vesper made a pretence of -examining them until the entrance of his landlady with the announcement -that his lunch was served. - -She shyly set before him a plate of soup, and a dish which she called a -little _ragoût_, "not as good as the _ragoûts_ of Boston, and yet -eatable." - -"How do you know that I am from Boston?" asked Vesper. - -"I do not know," she murmured, with a quick blush. "Monsieur is from -Halifax, I thought. He seems English. I speak of Boston because it was -there that I learned to cook." - -Vesper said nothing, but his silence seemed to invite a further -explanation, and she went on, modestly: "When I received news that my -husband had died of yellow fever in the West Indies, neighbors said, -'What will you do?' My stepmother said, 'Come home;' but I answered, -'No; a child that has left its father's roof does not return. I will -keep hotel. My house is of size. I will go to Boston and learn to cook -better than I know.' So I went, and stayed one week." - -"That was a short time to learn cooking," observed Vesper, politely. - -"I did not study. I bought _cuisine_ books. I went to grand hotels and -regarded the tables and tasted the dishes. If I now had more money, I -would do similar," and she anxiously surveyed her modest table and the -aristocratic young man seated at it; "but not many people come, and the -money lacks. However, our Lord knows that I wish to educate my child. -Strangers will come when he is older. - -"And," she went on, after a time, with mingled reluctance and honesty, -"I must not hide from you that I have already in the bank two hundred -dollars. It is not much; not so much as the Gautreaus, who have six -hundred, and Agapit, who has four, yet it is a starting." - -Vesper slightly wrinkled his forehead, and Mrs. Rose, fearful that her -cooking displeased him, for he had scarcely tasted the _ragoût_ and had -put aside a roast chicken, hastened to exclaim, "That pudding is but -overheated, and I did wrong to place it before you. Despise it if you -care, and it will please the hens." - -"It is a very good pudding," said Vesper, composedly, and he proceeded -to finish it. - -"Here is a custard which is quite fresh," said his landlady, feverishly, -"and bananas, and oranges, and some coffee." - -"Thank you. No cream--may I ask why you call that room you put me in the -judge's room?" - -"Because we have court near by, every year. The judge who comes exists -in that room. It is a most stirabout time, for many witnesses and -lawyers come. Perhaps monsieur passed the court-house and saw a lady -looking through the bars?" - -"No, I did not. Who is the lady?" - -"A naughty one, who sold liquor. She had no license, she could not pay -her fine, therefore she must look through those iron bars," and Mrs. -Rose à Charlitte shuddered. - -Vesper looked interested, and presently she went on: "But Clothilde -Dubois has some mercies,--one rocking-chair, her own feather bed, some -dainties to eat, and many friends to visit and talk through the bars." - -"Is there much drinking among the Acadiens on this Bay?" asked Vesper. - -"They do not drink at all," she said, stoutly. - -"Really,--then you never see a drunken man?" - -"I never see a drunken man," rejoined his pretty hostess. - -"Then I suppose there are no fights." - -"There are no fights among Acadiens. They are good people. They go to -mass and vespers on Sunday. They listen to their good priests. In the -evening one amuses oneself, and on Monday we rise early to work. There -are no dances, no fights." - -Vesper's meditative glance wandered through the window to a square of -grass outside, where some little girls in pink cotton dresses were -playing croquet. He was drinking his coffee and watching their graceful -behavior, when his attention was recalled to the room by hearing Mrs. -Rose à Charlitte say to her child, "There, Narcisse, is a morsel for thy -trees." - -The little boy had come from the corner where he had sat like a patient -mouse, and, with some excitement, was heaping a plate with the food that -Vesper had rejected. - -"Not so fast, little one," said his mother, with an apologetic glance at -the stranger. "Take these plates to the pantry, it will be better." - -"Ah, but they will have a good dinner to-day," said the child. "I will -give most to the French willows, my mother. In the morning it will all -be gone." - -"But, my treasure, it is the dogs that get it, not the trees." - -"No, my mother," he drawled, "you do not know. In the night the long -branches stretch out their arms; they sweep it up," and he clasped his -tiny hands in ecstasy. - -Vesper's curiosity was aroused, although he had not understood half that -the child had said. "Does he like trees?" he asked. - -Rose à Charlitte made a puzzled gesture. "Sir, to him the trees, the -flowers, the grass, are quite alive. He will not play croquet with those -dear little girls lest his shoes hurt the grass. If I would allow, he -would take all the food from the house and lay under the trees and the -flowers. He often cries at night, for he says the hollyhocks and -sunflowers are hungry, because they are tall and lean. He suffers -terribly to see the big spruces and pines cut down and dragged to the -shore. The doctor says he should go away for awhile, but it is a puzzle, -for I cannot endure to have him leave me." - -Vesper gave more attention than he yet had done to the perusal of the -child's sensitive yet strangely composed face. Then he glanced at the -mother. Did she understand him? - -She did. In her deep blue eyes he could readily perceive the quick flash -of maternal love and sympathy whenever her boy spoke to her. She was -young, too, extremely young, to have the care of rearing a child. She -must have been married in her cradle, and with that thought in mind he -said, "Do Acadien women marry at an early age?" - -"Not more so than the English," said Mrs. Rose, with a shrug of her -graceful, sloping shoulders, "though I was but young,--but seventeen. -But my husband wished it so. He had built this house. He had been long -ready for marriage," and she glanced at the wall behind Vesper. - -The young man turned around. Just behind him hung the enlarged -photograph of a man of middle age,--a man who must have been many years -older than his young wife, and whose death had, evidently, not left a -permanent blank in her affections. - -In a naïve, innocent way she imparted a few more particulars to Vesper -with regard to her late husband, and, as he rose from the table, she -followed him to the parlor and said, gently, "Perhaps monsieur will -register." - -Vesper sat down before the visitors' book on the table, and, taking up a -pen, wrote, "Vesper L. Nimmo, _The Evening News_, Boston." - -After he had pressed the blotting-paper on his words, and pushed the -book from him, his landlady stretched out her hand in childlike -curiosity. "Vesper," she said,--"that name is beautiful; it is in a -hymn to the blessed virgin; but _Evening News_,--surely it means not a -journal?" - -Vesper assured her that it did. - -The young French widow's face fell. She gazed at him with a sudden and -inexplicable change of expression, in which there was something of -regret, something of reproach. "_Il faut que je m'en aille_" (I must go -away), she murmured, reverting to her native language, and she swiftly -withdrew. - -Vesper lifted his level eyebrows and languidly strolled out to the -veranda. "The Acadienne evidently entertains some prejudice against -newspaper men. If my dear father were here he would immediately proceed, -in his inimitable way, to clear it from her mind. As for me, I am not -sufficiently interested," and he listlessly stretched himself out on a -veranda settle. - -"Monsieur," said a little voice, in deliberate French, "will you tell me -a story about a tree?" - -Vesper understood Narcisse this time, and, taking him on his knee, he -pointed to the wooded hills across the Bay and related a wonderful tale -of a city beyond the sun where the trees were not obliged to stand still -in the earth from morning till night, but could walk about and visit men -and women, who were their brothers and sisters, and sometimes the young -trees would stoop down and play with the children. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - AGAPIT, THE ACADIEN. - - "The music of our life is keyed - To moods that sweep athwart the soul; - The strain will oft in gladness roll, - Or die in sobs and tears at need; - But sad or gay, 'tis ever true - That, e'en as flowers from light take hue, - The key is of our mood the deed." - - AMINTA. CORNELIUS O'BRIEN, - _Archbishop of Halifax_. - - -After Mrs. Rose à Charlitte left Vesper she passed through the kitchen, -and, ascending an open stairway leading to regions above, was soon at -the door of the highest room in the house. - -Away up there, sitting at a large table drawn up to the window which -commanded an extensive view of the Bay, sat a sturdy, black-haired young -man. As Mrs. Rose entered the room she glanced about approvingly--for -she was a model housekeeper--at the neatly arranged books and papers on -tables and shelves, and then said, regretfully, and in French, "There is -another of them." - -"Of them,--of whom?" said the young man, peevishly, and in the same -language. - -"Of the foolish ones who write," continued Mrs. Rose, with gentle -mischief; "who waste much time in scribbling." - -"There are people whose brains are continually stewing over -cooking-stoves," said the young man, scornfully; "they are incapable of -rising higher." - -"La, la, Agapit," she said, good-naturedly. "Do not be angry with thy -cousin. I came to warn thee lest thou shouldst talk freely to him and -afterward be sorry." - -The young man threw his pen on the table, pushed back his chair, and, -springing to his feet, began to pace excitedly up and down the room, -gesticulating eagerly as he talked. - -"When fine weather comes," he exclaimed, "strangers flock to the Bay. We -are glad to see them,--all but these abominable idiots. Therefore when -they arrive let the frost come, let us have hail, wind, and snow to -drive them home, that we may enjoy peace." - -"But unfortunately in June we have fine weather," said Mrs. Rose. - -"I will insult him," said her black-haired cousin, wildly. "I will drive -him from the house," and he stood on tiptoe and glared in her face. - -"No, no; thou wilt do nothing of the sort, Agapit." - -"I will," he said, distractedly. "I will, I will, I will." - -"Agapit," said the young woman, firmly, "if it were not for the -strangers I should have only crusts for my child, not good bread and -butter, therefore calm thyself. Thou must be civil to this stranger." - -"I will not," he said, sullenly. - -Mrs. Rose à Charlitte's temper gave way. "Pack up thy clothes," she -said, angrily; "there is no living with thee,--thou art so disagreeable. -Take thy old trash, thy papers so old and dusty, and leave my house. -Thou wilt make me starve,--my child will not be educated. Go,--I cast -thee off." - -Agapit became calm as he contemplated her wrathful, beautiful face. -"Thou art like all women," he said, composedly, "a little excitable at -times. I am a man, therefore I understand thee," and pushing back his -coat he stuck his thumbs in the armholes and majestically resumed his -walk about the room. - -"Come now, cease thy crying," he went on, uneasily, after a time, when -Rose, who had thrown herself into a chair and had covered her face with -her hands, did not look at him. "I shall not leave thee, Rose." - -"He is very distinguished," she sobbed, "very polite, and his finger -nails are as white as thy bedspread. He is quite a gentleman; why does -he write for those wicked journals?" - -"Thou hast been talking to him, Rose," said her cousin, suspiciously, -stopping short and fixing her with a fiery glance; "with thy usual -innocence thou hast told him all that thou dost know and ever wilt -know." - -Rose shuddered, and withdrew her hands from her eyes. "I told him -nothing, not a word." - -"Thou didst not tell him of thy wish to educate thy boy, of thy two -hundred dollars in the bank, of thy husband, who teased thy stepmother -till she married thee to him, nor of me, for example?" and his voice -rose excitedly. - -His cousin was quite composed now. "I told him nothing," she repeated, -firmly. - -"If thou didst do so," he continued, threateningly, "it will all come -out in a newspaper,--'Melting Innocence of an Acadien Landlady. She -Tells a Reporter in Five Minutes the Story of Her Life.'" - -"It will not appear," said Mrs. Rose, hastily. "He is a worthy young -man, and handsome, too. There is not on the Bay a handsomer young man. I -will ask him to write nothing, and he will listen to me." - -"Oh, thou false one," cried the young man, half in vexation, half in -perplexity. "I wish that thou wert a child,--I would shake thee till thy -teeth chattered!" - -Mrs. Rose ran from the room. "He is a pig, an imbecile, and he terrifies -me so that I tell what is not true. What will Father Duvair say to me? I -will rise at six to-morrow, and go to confession." - -Vesper went early to bed that night, and slept soundly until early the -next morning, when he opened his eyes to a vision of hazy green fields, -a wide sheet of tremulous water, and a quiet, damp road, bordered by -silent houses. He sprang from his bed, and went to the open window. The -sun was just coming from behind a bank of clouds. He watched the Bay -lighting up under its rays, the green fields brightening, the moisture -evaporating; then hastily throwing on his clothes, he went down-stairs, -unlatched the front door, and hurried across the road into a hay-field, -where the newly cut grass, dripping with moisture, wet his slippered but -stockingless feet. - -Down by the rocks he saw a small bathing-house. He slipped off his -clothes, and, clad only in a thin bathing-suit, stood shivering for an -instant at the edge of the water. "It will be frightfully cold," he -muttered. "Dare I--yes, I do," and he plunged boldly into the -deliciously salt waves, and swam to and fro, until he was glowing from -head to foot. - -As he was hurrying up to the inn, a few minutes later, he saw, coming -down the road, a small two-wheeled cart, in which was seated Mrs. Rose à -Charlitte. She was driving a white pony, and she sat demure, charming, -with an air of penitence about her, and wearing the mourning garb of -Acadien women,--a plain black dress, a black shawl, and a black silk -handkerchief, drawn hood-wise over her flaxen mop of hair and tied under -her chin. - -The young man surveyed her approvingly. She seemed to belong naturally -to the cool, sweet dampness of the morning, and he guessed correctly -that she had been to early mass in the white church whose steeple he -could see in the distance. He was amused with the shy, embarrassed "_Bon -jour_" (good morning) that she gave him as she passed, and murmuring, -"The shadow of _The Evening News_ is still upon her," he went to his -room, and made his toilet for breakfast. - -An hour later, a loud bell rang through the house, and Vesper, in making -his way to the dining-room, met a reserved, sulky-faced young man in the -hall, who bowed coolly and stepped aside for him to pass. - -"H'm, Agapit LeNoir," reflected Vesper, darting a critical glance at -him. "The Acadien who was to unbosom himself to me. He does not look as -if he would enjoy the process," and he took his seat at the table, where -Mrs. Rose à Charlitte, grown strangely quiet, served his breakfast in an -almost unbroken silence. - -Vesper thoughtfully poured some of the thick yellow cream on his -porridge, and enjoyably dallied over it, but when his landlady would -have set before him a dish of smoking hot potatoes and beefsteak, he -said, "I do not care for anything further." - -Rose à Charlitte drew back in undisguised concern. "But you have eaten -nothing. Agapit has taken twice as much as this." - -"That is the young man I met just now?" - -"Yes, he is my cousin; very kind to me. His parents are dead, and he was -brought up by my stepmother. He is so clever, so clever! It is truly -strange what he knows. His uncle, who was a priest, left him many -papers, and all day, when Agapit does not work, he sits and writes or -reads. Some day he will be a learned man--" - -Rose paused abruptly. In her regret at the stranger's want of appetite -she was forgetting that she had resolved to have no further conversation -with him, and in sudden confusion she made the excuse that she wished to -see her child, and melted away like a snowflake, in the direction of the -kitchen, where Vesper had just heard Narcisse's sweet voice asking -permission to talk to the Englishman from Boston. - -The young American wandered out to the stable. Two Acadiens were there, -asking Agapit for the loan of a set of harness. At Vesper's approach -they continued their conversation in French, although he had distinctly -heard them speaking excellent English before he joined them. - -These men were employing an almost new language to him. This was not the -French of _L'Évangéline_, of Doctor Arseneau, nor of Rose à Charlitte. -Nor was it _patois_ such as he had heard in France, and which would have -been unintelligible to him. This must be the true Acadien dialect, and -he listened with pleasure to the softening and sweetening of some -syllables and the sharpening and ruining of others. They were saying -_ung houmme_, for a man. This was not unmusical; neither was -_persounne_, for nobody; but the _ang_ sound so freely interspersing -their sentences was detestable; as was also the reckless introduction of -English phrases, such as "all right," "you bet," "how queer," "too -proud," "funny," "steam-cars," and many others. - -Their conversation for some time left the stable, then it returned along -the line of discussion of a glossy black horse that stood in one of the -stalls. - -"_Ce cheval est de bounne harage_" (this horse is well-bred), said one -of the Acadiens, admiringly, and Vesper's thoughts ran back to a word in -the Latin grammar of his boyhood. _Hara_, a pen or stable. _De bonne -race_, a modern Frenchman would be likely to say. Probably these men -were speaking the language brought by their ancestors to Acadie; without -doubt they were. On this Bay would be presented to him the curious -spectacle of the descendants of a number of people lifted bodily out of -France, and preserving in their adopted country the tongue that had been -lost to the motherland. In France the language had drifted. Here the -Acadiens were using the same syllables that had hung on the lips of -kings, courtiers, poets, and wits of three and four hundred years ago. - -With keen interest, for he had a passion for the study of languages, he -carefully analyzed each sentence that he heard, until, fearing that his -attitude might seem impertinent to the Acadiens, he strolled away. - -His feet naturally turned in the direction of the corner, the most -lively spot in Sleeping Water. In the blacksmith's shop a short, stout -young Acadien with light hair, blue eyes, and a dirty face and arms, was -striking the red-hot tip of a pickax with ringing blows. He nodded -civilly enough to Vesper when he joined the knot of men who stood about -the wide door watching him, but no one else spoke to him. - -A farmer was waiting to have a pair of cream white oxen shod, a -stable-keeper, from another part of _la ville française_, was -impatiently chafing and fretting over the amount of time required to -mend his sulky wheel, and conversing with him were two well-dressed -young men, who appeared to be Acadiens from abroad spending their -holidays at home. - -Vesper's arrival had the effect of dispersing the little group. The -stable-man moved away to his sulky, as if he preferred the vicinity of -his roan horse, who gazed at him so benevolently, to that of Vesper, who -surveyed him so indifferently. The farmer entered the shop and sat down -on a box in a dark corner, while the Acadien young men, after cold -glances at the newcomer, moved away to the post-office. - -After a time Vesper remembered that he must have some Canadian stamps, -and followed them. Outside the shop five or six teams were lined up. -They were on their way to the wharf below, and were loaded with more of -the enormous trees that he had seen the day before. Probably their -sturdy strength, hoarded through long years in Acadien forests, would be -devoted to the support of some warehouse or mansion in his native -Puritan city, whose founders had called so loudly for the destruction of -the French. - -Vesper cast a regretful glance in the direction of the trees, and -entered the little shop, whose well-stocked shelves were full of rolls -of cotton and flannel, and boxes of groceries, confectionery, and -stationery. The drivers of the ox-teams were inside, doing their -shopping. They were somewhat rougher in appearance than the inhabitants -of Sleeping Water, and were louder and noisier in their conversation. -Vesper saw a young Acadien whisper a few words to one of them, and the -teamster in return scowled fiercely at him, and muttered something about -"a goddam Yankee." - -The young American stared coolly at him, and, going up to the counter, -purchased his stamps from a fat man in shirt-sleeves, who served him -with exquisite and distant courtesy. Then, leaving the shop, he shrugged -his shoulders, and went back the way he had come, murmuring, in amused -curiosity, "I must solve this mystery of _The Evening News_. My friend -Agapit is infecting all who come within the circle of his influence." - -He walked on past the inn, staring with interest at the houses bordering -the road. A few were very small, a few very old. He could mark the -transition of a family in some cases from their larval state in a low, -gray, caterpillar-like house of one story to a gay-winged butterfly home -of two or three stories. However, on the whole, the dwellings were -nearly all of the same size,--there were no sharp distinctions between -rich and poor. He saw no peasants, no pampered landlords. These Acadiens -all seemed to be small farmers, and all were on an equality. - -The creaking of an approaching team caught his attention. It was drawn -by a pair of magnificent red oxen, groomed as carefully as if they had -been horses, and beside them walked an old man, who was holding an -ejaculatory conversation with them in English; for the Acadiens of the -Bay Saint-Mary always address their oxen and horses as if they belonged -to the English race. - -"I wonder whether this worthy man in homespun has been informed that I -am a kind of leper," reflected Vesper, as he uttered a somewhat guarded -"_Bon jour_." - -"_Bon jour_," said the old man, delightedly, and he halted and -admonished his companions to do the same. - -"_Il fait beau_" (it is a fine day), pursued Vesper, cautiously. - -"_Oui, mais je crais qu'il va mouiller_" (yes, but I think it is going -to rain), said the Acadien, with gentle affability; then he went on, -apologetically, and in English, "I do not speak the good French." - -"It is the best of French," said Vesper, "for it is old." - -"And you," continued the old man, not to be outdone in courtesy, "you -speak like the sisters of St. Joseph who once called at my house. Their -words were like round pebbles dropping from their mouths." - -Vesper smoothed his mustache, and glanced kindly at his aged companion, -who proceeded to ask him whether he was staying at the inn. "Ah, it is a -good inn," he went on, "and Rose à Charlitte is _très-smart, -très-smart_. Perhaps you do not understand my English," he added, when -Vesper did not reply to him. - -"On the contrary, I find that you speak admirably." - -"You are kind," said the old man, shaking his head, "but my English -langwidge is spiled since my daughter went to Bostons, for I talk to no -one. She married an Irish boy; he is a nusser." - -"An usher,--in a theatre?" - -"No, sir, in a cross-spittal. He nusses sick people, and gets two -dollars a day." - -"Oh, indeed." - -"Do you come from Bostons?" asked the old man. - -"Yes, I do." - -"And do you know my daughter?" - -"What is her name?" - -The Acadien reflected for some time, then said it was MacCraw, whereupon -Vesper assured him that he had never had the pleasure of meeting her. - -"Is your trade an easy one?" asked the old man, wistfully. - -"No; very hard." - -"You are then a farmer." - -"No; I wish I were. My trade is taking care of my health." - -The Acadien examined him from head to foot. "Your face is beautifuller -than a woman's, but you are poorly built." - -Vesper drew up his straight and slender figure. He was not surprised -that it did not come up to the Acadien's standard of manly beauty. - -"Let us shake hands lest we never meet again," said the old man, so -gently, so kindly, and with so much benevolence, that Vesper responded, -warmly, "I hope to see you some other time." - -"Perhaps you will call. We are but poor, yet if it would please you--" - -"I shall be most happy. Where do you live?" - -"Near the low down brook, way off there. Demand Antoine à Joe Rimbaut," -and, smiling and nodding farewell, the old man moved on. - -"A good heart," said Vesper, looking after him. - -"Caw, caw," said a solemn voice at his elbow. - -He turned around. One of the blackest of crows sat on a garden fence -that surrounded a neat pink cottage. The cottage was itself smothered in -lilacs, whose fragrant blossoms were in their prime, although the Boston -lilacs had long since faded and died. - -"Do not be afraid, sir," said a woman in the inevitable handkerchief, -who jumped up from a flower bed that she was weeding, "he is quite -tame." - -"_Un corbeau apprivoisé_" (a tame crow), said Vesper, lifting his cap. - -"_Un corbeau privé_, we say," she replied, shyly. "You speak the good -French, like the priests out of France." - -She was not a very young woman, nor was she very pretty, but she was -delightfully modest and retiring in her manner, and Vesper, leaning -against the fence, assured her that he feared the Acadiens were lacking -in a proper appreciation of their ability to speak their own language. - -After a time he looked over the fields behind her cottage, and asked the -name of a church crowning a hill in the distance. - -"It is the Saulnierville church," she replied, "but you must not walk so -far. You will stay to dinner?" - -While Vesper was politely declining her invitation, a Frenchman with a -long, pointed nose, and bright, sharp eyes, came around the corner of -the house. - -"He is my husband," said the woman. "Edouard, this gentleman speaks the -good French." - -The Acadien warmly seconded the invitation of his wife that Vesper -should stay to dinner, but he escaped from them with smiling thanks and -a promise to come another day. - -"They never saw me before, and they asked me to stay to dinner. That is -true hospitality,--they have not been infected. I will make my way back -to the inn, and interview that sulky beggar." - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - VESPER SUGGESTS AN EXPLANATION. - - "Glad of a quarrel straight I clap the door; - Sir, let me see you and your works no more." - - POPE. - - -At twelve o'clock Mrs. Rose à Charlitte was standing in her cold pantry -deftly putting a cap of icing on a rich rounded loaf of cake, when she -heard a question asked, in Vesper's smooth neutral tones, "Where is -madame?" - -She stepped into the kitchen, and found that he was interrogating her -servant Célina. - -"I should like to speak to that young man I saw this morning," he said, -when he saw her. - -"He has gone out, monsieur," she replied, after a moment's hesitation. - -"Which is his room?" - -"The one by the smoking-room," she answered, with a deep blush. - -Vesper's white teeth gleamed through his dark mustache, and, seeing that -he was laughing at her, she grew confused, and hung her head. - -"Can I get to it by this staircase?" asked Vesper, exposing her petty -deceit. "I think I can by going up to the roof, and dropping down." - -Mrs. Rose lifted her head long enough to flash him a scrutinizing -glance. Then, becoming sensible of the determination of purpose under -his indifference of manner, she said, in scarcely audible tones, "I will -show you." - -"I have only a simple question to ask him," said Vesper, reassuringly, -as he followed her towards the staircase. - -"Agapit is quick like lightning," she said, over her shoulder, "but his -heart is good. He helps to keep our grandmother, who spends her days in -bed." - -"That is exemplary. I would be the last one to hurt the feelings of the -prop of an aged person," murmured Vesper. - -Rose à Charlitte was not satisfied. She unwillingly mounted the stairs, -and pointed out the door of her cousin's room, then withdrew to the next -one, and listened anxiously in case there might be some disturbance -between the young men. There was none; so, after a time, she went -down-stairs. - -Agapit, at Vesper's entrance, abruptly pushed back his chair from the -table and, rising, presented a red and angry face to his visitor. - -"I have interrupted you, I fear," said Vesper, smoothly. "I will not -detain you long. I merely wish to ask a question." - -"Will you sit down?" said Agapit, sulkily, and he forced himself to -offer the most comfortable chair in the room to his caller. - -Vesper did not seat himself until he saw that Agapit was prepared to -follow his example. Then he looked into the black eyes of the Acadien, -which were like two of the deep, dark pools in the forest, and said, "A -matter of business has brought me to this Bay. I may have some inquiries -to make, in which I would find myself hampered by any prejudice among -persons I might choose to question. I fancy that some of the people here -look on me with suspicion. I am quite unaware of having given offence in -any way. Possibly you can explain,--I am not bent on an explanation, you -understand. If you choose to offer one, I shall be glad to listen." - -He spoke listlessly, tapping on the table with his fingers, and allowing -his eyes to wander around the room, rather than to remain fixed on -Agapit's face. - -The young Acadien could scarcely restrain a torrent of words until -Vesper had finished speaking. - -"Since you ask, I will explain,--yes, I will not be silent. We are not -rude here,--oh, no. We are too kind to strangers. Vipers have crept in -among us. They have stolen heat and warmth from our bosoms"--he paused, -choking with rage. - -"And you have reason to suppose that I may prove a viper?" asked Vesper, -indolently. - -"Yes, you also are one. You come here, we receive you. You depart, you -laugh in your sleeve,--a newspaper comes. We see it all. The meek and -patient Acadiens are once more held up to be a laughing-stock." - -Vesper wrinkled his level eyebrows. "Perhaps you will characterize this -viperish conduct?" - -Agapit calmed himself slightly. "Wait but an instant. Control your -curiosity, and I will give you something to read," and he went on his -knees, and rummaged among some loose papers in an open box. "Look at -it," he said, at last, springing up and handing his caller a newspaper; -"read, and possibly you will understand." - -Vesper's quick eye ran over the sheet that he held up. "This is a New -York weekly paper. Yes, I know it well. What is there here that concerns -you?" - -"Look, look here," said Agapit, tapping a column in the paper with an -impatient gesture. "Read the nonsense, the drivel, the insanity of the -thing--" - -"Ah,--'Among the Acadiens, Quaintness Unrivalled, Archaic Forms of -Speech, A Dance and a Wedding, The Spirit of Evangeline, Humorous -Traits, If You Wish a Good Laugh Go Among Them!'" - -"She laughed in print, she screamed in black ink!" exclaimed Agapit. -"The silly one,--the witch." - -"Who was she,--this lady viper?" asked Vesper, briefly. - -"She was a woman--a newspaper woman. She spent a summer among us. She -gloomed about the beach with a shawl on her shoulders; a small dog -followed her. She laid in bed. She read novels, and then," he continued, -with rising voice, "she returned home, she wrote this detestability -about us." - -"Why need you care?" said Vesper, coolly. "She had to reel off a certain -amount of copy. All correspondents have to do so. She only touched up -things a little to make lively reading." - -"Not touching up, but manufacturing," retorted Agapit, with blazing -eyes. "She had nothing to go on, nothing--nothing--nothing. We are just -like other people," and he ruffled his coal-black hair with both his -hands, and looked at his caller fiercely. "Do you not find us so?" - -"Not exactly," said Vesper, so dispassionately and calmly, and with such -statuesque repose of manner, that he seemed rather to breathe the words -than to form them with his lips. - -"And you will express that in your paper. You will not tell the truth. -My countrymen will never have justice,--never, never. They are always -misrepresented, always." - -"What a firebrand!" reflected Vesper, and he surveyed, with some -animation, the inflamed, suspicious face of the Frenchman. - -"You also will caricature us," pursued Agapit; "others have done so, why -should not you?" - -Vesper's lips parted. He was on the point of imparting to Agapit the -story of his great-grandfather's letter. Then he closed them. Why should -he be browbeaten into communicating his private affairs to a stranger? - -"Thank you," he said, and he rose to leave the room. "I am obliged for -the information you have given me." - -Agapit's face darkened; he would dearly love to secure a promise of good -behavior from this stranger, who was so non-committal, so reserved, and -yet so strangely attractive. - -"See," he said, grandly, and flinging his hand in the direction of his -books and papers. "To an honest man, really interested in my people, I -would be pleased to give information. I have many documents, many -books." - -"Ah, you take an interest in this sort of thing," said Vesper. - -"An interest--I should die without my books and papers; they are my -life." - -"And yet you were cut out for a farmer," thought Vesper, as he surveyed -Agapit's sturdy frame. "I suppose you have the details of the expulsion -at your fingers' ends," he said, aloud. - -"Ah, the expulsion," muttered Agapit, turning deathly pale, "the -abominable, damnable expulsion!" - -"Your feelings run high on the subject," murmured Vesper. - -"It suffocates me, it chokes me, when I reflect how it was brought -about. You know, of course, that in the eighteenth century there -flourished a devil,--no, not a devil," contemptuously. "What is that for -a word? Devil, devil,--it is so common that there is no badness in it. -Even the women say, 'Poor devil, I pity him.' Say, rather, there was a -god of infamy, the blackest, the basest, the most infernal of created -beings that our Lord ever permitted to pollute this earth--" - -For a minute he became incoherent, then he caught his breath. "This -demon, this arch-fiend, the misbegotten Lawrence that your historian -Parkman sets himself to whitewash--" - -"I know of Parkman," said Vesper, coldly, "he was once a neighbor of -ours." - -"Was he!" exclaimed Agapit, in a paroxysm of excitement. "A fine -neighbor, a worthy man! Parkman,--the New England story-teller, the -traducer, who was too careless to set himself to the task of -investigating records." - -Vesper was not prepared to hear any abuse of his countryman, and, -turning on his heel, he left the room, while Agapit, furious to think -that, unasked, he had been betrayed into furnishing a newspaper -correspondent with some crumbs of information that might possibly be -dished up in appetizing form for the delectation of American readers, -slammed the door behind him, and went back to his writing. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - A DEADLOCK. - - "I found the fullest summer here - Between these sloping meadow-hills and yon; - And came all beauty then, from dawn to dawn, - Whether the tide was veiled or flowing clear." - - J. F. H. - - -Three days later, Vesper had only two friends in Sleeping Water,--that -is, only two open friends. He knew he had a secret one in Mrs. Rose à -Charlitte, who waited on him with the air of a sorrowing saint. - -The open friends were the child Narcisse, and Emmanuel Victor de la -Rive, the mail-driver. Rose could not keep her child away from the -handsome stranger. Narcisse had fallen into a passionate adoration for -him, and even in his dreams prattled of the Englishman from Boston. - -On the third night of Vesper's stay in Sleeping Water a violent -thunder-storm arose. Lying in his bed and watching the weird lighting up -of the Bay under the vivid discharges of electricity, he heard a -fumbling at his door-knob, and, upon unlocking the door, discovered -Narcisse, pale and seraphic, in a long white nightgown, and with beads -of distress on his forehead. - -"Mr. Englishman," he said to Vesper, who now understood his childish -lingo, "I come to you, for my mother sleeps soundly, and she cannot tell -me when she wakes,--the trees and the flowers, are they not in a -terrible fright?" and, holding up his gown with one hand, he went -swiftly to the window, and pointed out towards the willows, writhing and -twisting in the wind, and the gentle flowers laid low on the earth. - -A yellow glare lighted up the room, a terrible peal of thunder shook the -house, but the child did not quail, and stood waiting for an answer to -his question. - -"Come here," said Vesper, calmly, "and I will explain to you that the -thunder does not hurt them, and that they have a way of bending before -the blast." - -Narcisse immediately drew his pink heels up over the side of Vesper's -bed. He was unspeakably soothed by the merest word of this stranger, in -whose nervous sensitiveness and reserve he found a spirit more congenial -to his own than in that of his physically perfect mother. - -Vesper talked to him for some time, and the child at last fell asleep, -his tiny hand clasping a scapulary on his breast, his pretty lips -murmuring to the picture on it, "Good St. Joseph, Mr. Englishman says -that only a few of the trees and flowers are hurt by the storm. Watch -over the little willows and the small lilies while I sleep, and do not -let them be harmed." - -Vesper at first patiently and kindly endured the pressure of the curly -head laid on his arm. He would like to have a beautiful child like this -for his own. Then thoughts of his childhood began to steal over him. He -remembered climbing into his father's bed, gazing worshipfully into his -face, and stroking his handsome head. - -"O God, my father!" he muttered, "I have lost him," and, unable to -endure the presence of the child, he softly waked him. "Go back to your -mother, Narcisse. She may miss you." - -The child sleepily obeyed him, and went to continue his dreams by his -mother's side, while Vesper lay awake until the morning, a prey to -recollections at once tender and painful. - -Vesper's second friend, the mail-driver, never failed to call on him -every morning. If one could put a stamp on a letter it was permissible -at any point on the route to call, "_Arrête-toi_" (stop), to the crimson -flying bird. If one could not stamp a letter, it was illegal to detain -him. - -Vesper never had, however, to call "_Arrête-toi_." Of his own accord -Emmanuel Victor de la Rive, upon arriving before the inn, would fling -the reins over his pony's back, and spring nimbly out. He was sure to -find Vesper lolling on the seat under the willows, or lying in the -hammock, with Narcisse somewhere near, whereupon he would seat himself -for a few minutes, and in his own courteous and curious way would ask -various and sundry questions of this stranger, who had fascinated him -almost as completely as he had Narcisse. - -On the morning after the thunder-storm he had fallen into an admiration -of Vesper's beautiful white teeth. Were they all his own, and not -artificial? With such teeth he could marry any woman. He was a bachelor -now, was he not? Did he always intend to remain one? How much longer -would he stay in Sleeping Water? And Vesper, parrying his questions with -his usual skill, sent him away with his ears full of polite sentences -that, when he came to analyze them, conveyed not a single item of -information to his surprised brain. - -However, he felt no resentment towards Vesper. His admiration rose -superior to any rebuffs. It even soared above the warning intimations he -received from many Acadiens to the effect that he was laying himself -open to hostile criticism by his intercourse with the enemy within the -camp. - -Vesper was amused by him, and on this particular morning, after he -left, he lay back in the hammock, his mind enjoyably dwelling on the -characteristics of the volatile Acadien. - -Narcisse, who stood beside him in the centre of the bare spot on the -lawn, by the hammock, in vain begged for a story, and at last, losing -patience, knelt down and put his head to the ground. The Englishman had -told him that each grass-blade came up from the earth with a tale on the -tip of its quivering tongue, and that all might hear who bent an ear to -listen. Narcisse wished to get news of the storm in the night, and -really fancied that the grass-blades told him it had prevailed in the -bowels of the earth. He sprang up to impart the news to Vesper, and -Agapit, who was passing down the lane by the house to the street, -scowled, disapprovingly, at the pretty, wagging head and animated -gestures. - -Vesper gazed after him, and paid no attention to Narcisse. "I wonder," -he murmured, languidly, "what spell holds me in the neighborhood of this -Acadien demagogue who has turned his following against me. It must be -the Bay," and in a trance of pleasure he surveyed its sparkling surface. - -Always beautiful,--never the same. Was ever another sheet of water so -wholly charming, was ever another occupation so fitted for unstrung -nerves as this placid watching of its varying humors and tumults? - -This morning it was like crystal. A fleet of small boats was dancing out -to the deep sea fishing-grounds, and three brown-sailed schooners were -gliding up the Bay to mysterious waters unknown to him. As soon as he -grew stronger, he must follow them up to the rolling country and the -fertile fields beyond Sleeping Water. Just now the mere thought of -leaving the inn filled him with nervous apprehension, and he started -painfully and irritably as the sharp clang of the dinner-bell rang out -through the open windows of the house. - -Followed by Narcisse, he sauntered to the table, where he caused Rose à -Charlitte's heart a succession of pangs and anxieties. - -"He does not like my cooking; he eats nothing," she said, mournfully, to -Agapit, who was taking a substantial dinner at the kitchen table. - -"I wish that he would go away," said Agapit, "I hate his insolent face." - -"But he is not insolent," said Rose, pleadingly. "It is only that he -does not care for us; he is likely rich, and we are but poor." - -"Do many millionaires come to thy quiet inn?" asked Agapit, ironically. - -Rose reluctantly admitted that, so far, her patrons had not been people -of wealth. - -"He is probably a beggar," said Agapit. "He has paid thee nothing yet. I -dare say he has only old clothes in that trunk of his. Perhaps he was -forced to leave his home. He intends to spend the rest of his life -here." - -"If he would work," said Rose, timidly, "he could earn his board. If -thou goest away, I shall need a man for the stable." - -"Look at his white hands," said Agapit, "he is lazy,--and dost thou -think I would leave thee with that young sprig? His character may be of -the worst. What do we know of him?" and he tramped out to the stable, -while Mrs. Rose confusedly withdrew to her pantry. - -An hour later, while Agapit was grooming Toochune, the thoroughbred -black horse that was the wonder of the Bay, Narcisse came and stood in -the stable door, and for a long time silently watched him. - -Then he heaved a small sigh. He was thinking neither of the horse nor of -Agapit, and said, wistfully, "The Englishman from Boston sleeps as well -as my mother. I have tried to wake him, but I cannot." - -Agapit paid no attention to him, but the matter was weighing on the -child's mind, and after a time he continued, "His face is very white, as -white as the breast of the ducks." - -"His face is always white," growled Agapit. - -Narcisse went away, and sat patiently down by the hammock, while Agapit, -who kept an eye on him despite himself, took occasion a little later to -go to the garden, ostensibly to mend a hole in the fence, in reality to -peer through the willows at Vesper. - -What he saw caused him to drop his knife, and go to the well, where -Célina was drawing a bucket of water. - -"The Englishman has fainted," he said, and he took the bucket from her. -Célina ran after him, and watched him thrust Narcisse aside and dash a -handful of water in Vesper's marble, immobile face. - -Narcisse raised one of his tiny fists and struck Agapit a smart blow, -and, in spite of their concern for the Englishman, both the grown people -turned and stared in surprise at him. For the first time they saw the -sweet-tempered child in a rage. - -"Go away," he said, in a choking voice, "you shall not hurt him." - -"Hush, little rabbit," said the young man. "I try to do him good. -Christophe! Christophe!" and he hailed an Acadien who was passing along -the road. "Come assist me to carry the Englishman into the house. This -is something worse than a faint." - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - ON THE SUDDEN SOMETHING ILL. - - "Dull days had hung like curtained mysteries, - And nights were weary with the starless skies. - At once came life, and fire, and joys untold, - And promises for violets to unfold; - And every breeze had shreds of melodies, - So faint and sweet." - - J. F. HERBIN. - - -One midnight, three weeks later, when perfect silence and darkness -brooded over Sleeping Water, and the only lights burning were the stars -up aloft, and two lamps in two windows of the inn, Vesper opened his -eyes and looked about him. - -He saw for some dreamy moments only a swimming curtain of black, with a -few familiar objects picked out against the gloom. He could distinguish -his trunk sailing to and fro, a remembered mirror before which he had -brushed his hair, a book in a well-known binding, and a lamp with a soft -yellow globe, that immediately took him to a certain restaurant in -Paris, and made him fancy that he was dining under the yellow lights in -its ceiling. - -Where was he,--in what country had he been having this long, dreamless -sleep? And by dint of much brain racking, which bathed his whole body in -a profuse perspiration, he at length retraced his steps back into his -life, and decided that he was in the last place that he remembered -before he fell into this disembodied-spirit condition of mind,--his room -in the Sleeping Water Inn. - -There was the open window, through which he had so often listened to the -soothing murmur of the sea; there were the easy chairs, the chest of -drawers, the little table, that, as he remembered it last, was not -covered with medicine-bottles. The child's cot was a wholly new object. -Had the landlady's little boy been sharing his quarters? What was his -name? Ah, yes, Narcisse,--and what had they called the sulky Acadien who -had hung about the house, and who now sat reading in a rocking-chair by -the table? - -Agapit--that was it; but why was he here in his room? Some one had been -ill. "I am that person," suddenly drifted into his tortured mind. "I -have been very ill; perhaps I am going to die." But the thought caused -him no uneasiness, no regret; he was conscious only of an indescribably -acute and nervous torture as his weary eyes glued themselves to the -unconscious face of his watcher. - -Agapit would soon lift his head, would stare at him, would utter some -exclamation; and, in mute, frantic expectation, Vesper waited for the -start and the exclamation. If they did come he felt that they would kill -him; if they did not, he felt that nothing less than a sudden and -immediate felling to the floor of his companion would satisfy the -demands of his insane and frantic agitation. - -Fortunately Agapit soon turned his anxious face towards the bed. He did -not start, he did not exclaim: he had been too well drilled for that; -but a quick, quiet rapture fell upon him that was expressed only by the -trembling of his finger tips. - -The young American had come out of the death-like unconsciousness of -past days and nights; he now had a chance to recover; but while a -thanksgiving to the mother of angels was trembling on his lips, his -patient surveyed him in an ecstasy of irritation and weakness that found -expression in hysterical laughter. - -Agapit was alarmed. He had never heard Vesper laugh in health. He had -rarely smiled. Possibly he might be calmed by the offer of something to -eat, and, picking up a bowl of jelly, he approached the bed. - -Vesper made a supreme effort, slightly moved his head from the -descending spoon, and uttered the worst expression that he could summon -from his limited vocabulary of abuse of former days. - -Agapit drew back, and resignedly put the jelly on the table. "He -remembers the past," he reflected, with hanging head. - -Vesper did not remember the past; he was conscious of no resentment. He -was possessed only of a wild desire to be rid of this man, whose -presence inflamed him to the verge of madness. - -After sorrowfully surveying him, while retreating further and further -from his inarticulate expressions of rage, Agapit stepped into the hall. -In a few minutes he returned with Rose, who looked pale and weary, as if -she, too, were a watcher by a sick-bed. She glanced quickly at Vesper, -suppressed a smile when he made a face at Agapit, and signed to the -latter to leave the room. - -Vesper became calm. Instead of sitting down beside him, or staring at -him, she had gone to the window, and stood with folded hands, looking -out into the night. After some time she went to the table, took up a -bottle, and, carefully examining it, poured a few drops into a spoon. - -Vesper took the liquid from her, with no sense of irritation; then, as -she quickly turned away, he felt himself sinking down, down, through his -bed, through the floor, through the crust of the earth, into regions of -infinite space, from which he had come back to the world for a time. - -The next time he waked up, Agapit was again with him. The former -pantomime would have been repeated if Agapit had not at once -precipitated himself from the room, and sent Rose to take his place. - -This time she smiled at Vesper, and made an effort to retain his -attention, even going so far as to leave the room and reënter with a wan -effigy of Narcisse in her arms,--a pale and puny thing that stared -languidly at him, and attempted to kiss his hand. - -Vesper tried to speak to the child, lost himself in the attempt, then -roused his slumbering fancy once more and breathed a question to Mrs. -Rose,--"My mother?" - -"Your mother is well, and is here," murmured his landlady. "You shall -see her soon." - -Vesper's periods of slumber after this were not of so long duration, and -one warm and delicious afternoon, when the sunlight was streaming in and -flooding his bed, he opened his eyes on a frail, happy figure fluttering -about the room. "Ah, mother," he said, calmly, "you are here." - -She flew to the bed, she hovered over him, embraced him, turned away, -came back to him, and finally, rigidly clasping her hands to ensure -self-control, sat down beside him. - -At first she would not talk, the doctor would not permit it; but after -some days her tongue was allowed to take its course freely and -uninterruptedly. - -"My dear boy, what a horrible fright you gave me! Your letters came -every day for a week, then they stopped. I waited two days, thinking you -had gone to some other place, then I telegraphed. You were ill. You can -imagine how I hurried here, with Henry to take care of me. And what do -you think I found? Such a curious state of affairs. Do you know that -these Acadiens hated you at first?" - -"Yes, I remember that." - -"But when you fell ill, that young man, Agapit, installed himself as -your nurse. They spoke of getting a Sister of Charity, but had some -scruples, thinking you might not like it, as you are a Protestant. Mrs. -de Forêt closed her inn; she would receive no guests, lest they might -disturb you. She and her cousin nursed you. They got an English doctor -to drive twelve miles every day,--they thought you would prefer him to a -French one. Then her little boy fell ill; he said the young man Agapit -had hurt you. They thought he would die, for he had brain fever. He -called all the time for you, and when he had lucid intervals, they could -only convince him you were not dead by bringing him in, and putting him -in this cot. Really, it was a most deplorable state of affairs. But the -charming part is that they thought you were a pauper. When I arrived, -they were thunderstruck. They had not opened your trunk, which you left -locked, though they said they would have done so if I had not come, for -they feared you might die, and they wanted to get the addresses of your -friends, and every morning, my dear boy, for three days after you were -taken ill, you started up at nine o'clock, the time that queer, red -postman used to come,--and wrote a letter to me." - -Mrs. Nimmo paused, hid her face in her hands, and burst into tears. "It -almost broke my heart when I heard it,--to think of you rousing yourself -every day from your semi-unconsciousness to write to your mother. I -cannot forgive myself for letting you go away without me." - -"Why did they not write from here to you?" asked Vesper. - -"They did not know I was your mother. I don't think they looked at the -address of the letters you had sent. They thought you were poor, and an -adventurer." - -"Why did they not write to _The Evening News_?" - -"My dear boy, they were doing everything possible for you, and they -would have written in time." - -"You have, of course, told them that they shall suffer no loss by all -this?" - -"Yes, yes; but they seem almost ashamed to take money from me. That -charming landlady says, 'If I were rich I would pay all, myself.' -Vesper, she is a wonderful woman." - -"Is she?" he said, languidly. - -"I never saw any one like her. My darling, how do you feel? Mayn't I -give you some wine? I feel as if I had got you back from the grave, I -can never be sufficiently thankful. The doctor says you may be carried -out-of-doors in a week, if you keep on improving, as you are sure to do. -The air here seems to suit you perfectly. You would never have been ill -if you had not been run down when you came. That young man Agapit is -making a stretcher to carry you. He is terribly ashamed of his dislike -for you, and he fairly worships you now." - -"I suppose you went through my trunk," said Vesper, in faint, indulgent -tones. - -"Well, yes," said Mrs. Nimmo, reluctantly. "I thought, perhaps, there -might be something to be attended to." - -"And you read my great-grandfather's letter?" - -"Yes,--I will tell you exactly what I did. I found the key the second -day I came, and I opened the trunk. When I discovered that old yellow -letter, I knew it was something important. I read it, and of course -recognized that you had come here in search of the Fiery Frenchman's -children. However, I did not think you would like me to tell these -Acadiens that, so I merely said, 'How you have misunderstood my son! He -came here to do good to some of your people. He is looking for the -descendants of a poor unhappy man. My son has money, and would help -you.'" - -Vesper tried to keep back the little crease of amusement forming itself -about his wasted lips. He had rarely seen his mother so happy and so -excited. She prattled on, watching him sharply to see the effect of her -words, and hovering over him like a kind little mother-bird. In some way -she reminded him curiously enough of Emmanuel de la Rive. - -"I simply told them how good you are, and how you hate to have a fuss -made over you. The young Acadien man actually writhed, and Mrs. de Forêt -cried like a baby. Then they said, 'Oh, why did he put the name of a -paper after his name?' 'How cruel in you to say that!' I replied to -them. 'He does that because it reminds him of his dead father, whom he -adored. My husband was editor and proprietor of the paper, and my son -owns a part of it.' You should have seen the young Acadien. He put his -head down on his arms, then he lifted it, and said, 'But does your son -not write?' 'Write!' I exclaimed, indignantly, 'he hates writing. To me, -his own mother, he only sends half a dozen lines. He never wrote a -newspaper article in his life.' They would have been utterly overcome if -I had not praised them for their disinterestedness in taking care of -you in spite of their prejudice against you. Vesper, they will do -anything for you now; and that exquisite child,--it is just like a -romance that he should have fallen ill because you did." - -"Is he better?" - -"Almost well. They often bring him in when you are asleep. I daresay it -would amuse you to have him sit on your bed for awhile." - -Vesper was silent, and, after a time, his mother ran on: "This French -district is delightfully unique. I never was in such an out-of-the-world -place except in Europe. I feel as if I had been moved back into a former -century, when I see those women going about in their black -handkerchiefs. I sit at the window and watch them going by,--I should -never weary of them." - -Vesper said nothing, but he reflected affectionately and acutely that in -a fortnight his appreciative but fickle mother would be longing for the -rustle of silks, the flutter of laces, and the hum of fashionable -conversation on a veranda, which was her idea of an enjoyable summer -existence. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - A TALK ON THE WHARF. - - "Long have I lingered where the marshlands are, - Oft hearing in the murmur of the tide - The past, alive again and at my side, - With unrelenting power and hateful war." - - J. F. H. - - -"There goes the priest of the parish in his buggy," said Mrs. Nimmo. "He -must have a sick call." - -She sat on a garden chair, crocheting a white shawl and watching the -passers-by on the road. - -"And there are some Sisters of Charity from one of the convents and an -old Indian with a load of baskets is begging from them--Don't you want -to look at these bicyclists, Vesper? One, two, three, four, five, six. -They are from Boston, I know, by the square collars on their jerseys. -The Nova Scotians do not dress in that way." - -Vesper gave only a partial though pleased attention to his mother, who -had picked up an astonishing amount of neighborhood news, and as he lay -on a rug at her feet, with his hat pulled over his brows, his mind -soared up to the blue sky above him. During his illness he had always -seemed to be sinking down into blackness and desolation. With returning -health and decreased nervousness his soul mounted upward, and he would -lie for hours at a time bathed in a delicious reverie and dreaming of "a -nest among the stars." - -"And there is the blacksmith from the corner," continued Mrs. Nimmo, -"who comes here so often to borrow things that a blacksmith is commonly -supposed to have. Yesterday he wanted a hammer. 'Not a hammer,' said -Célina to me, 'but a wife.'" - -Vesper's brain immediately turned an abrupt somersault in a descent from -the sky to earth. "What did you say, mother?" - -"Merely that the blacksmith wishes to marry our landlady. It will be an -excellent match for her. Don't you think so?" - -"In some respects,--yes." - -"She is too young, and too handsome, to remain a widow. Célina says that -she has had a great many admirers, but she has never seemed to fancy any -one but the blacksmith. She went for a drive with him last Sunday -evening. You know that is the time young Acadiens call on the girls they -admire. You see them walking by, or driving in their buggies. If a -girl's _fiancé_ did not call on her that evening she would throw him -over--There she is now with your beef tea," and Mrs. Nimmo admiringly -watched Rose coming from the kitchen and carefully guarding a dainty -china cup in her hand. - -Vesper got up and took it from her. "Don't you think it is nonsense for -me to be drinking this every morning?" he asked. - -Rose looked up at him as he stood, tall, keen-eyed, interested, and -waiting for her answer. "What does madame, your mother, say?" she asked, -indicating Mrs. Nimmo, by a pretty gesture. - -"His mother says," remarked Mrs. Nimmo, indulgently, "that her son -should take any dose, no matter how disagreeable, if it has for its -object the good of his health." - -Vesper glanced sharply at her, then poured the last few drops of his tea -on the ground. - -"Ah," said Mrs. Rose, anxiously, "I feared that I had not put in enough -salt. Now I know." - -"It was perfect," said Vesper. "I am only offering a libation to those -pansies," and he inclined his dark head towards Narcisse, who was seated -cross-legged in the hammock. - -Rose took the cup, smiled innocently and angelically on her child and -the young man and his mother, and returned to the house. - -Agapit presently came hurrying by the fence. "Ah, that is good!" he -exclaimed, when he saw Vesper sauntering to and fro; "do you not think -you could essay a walk to the wharf?" - -"Yes," said Vesper, while his mother anxiously looked up from her work. - -"Then come,--let me have the honor of escorting you," and Agapit showed -his big white teeth in an ecstatic smile. - -Vesper extended a hand to Narcisse, and, lifting his cap to his mother, -went slowly down the lane to the road. - -Agapit could scarcely contain his delight. He grinned broadly at every -one they met, tried to accommodate his pace to Vesper's, kept forgetting -and striding ahead, and finally, cramming his hands in his pockets, fell -behind and muttered, "I feel as if I had known you a hundred years." - -"You didn't feel that way six weeks ago," said Vesper, good-humoredly. - -"I blush for it,--I am ashamed, but can you blame me? Since days of long -ago, Acadiens have been so much maligned. You do not find that we are -worse than others?" - -"Well, I think you would have been a pretty ticklish fellow to have -handled at the time of the expulsion." - -"Our dear Lord knew better than to bring me into the world then," said -Agapit, naïvely. "I should have urged the Acadiens to take up arms. -There were enough of them to kill those devilish English." - -"Do all the Acadiens hate the English as much as you do?" - -"_I_ hate the English?" cried Agapit. "How grossly you deceive -yourself!" - -"What do you mean then by that strong language?" - -Agapit threw himself into an excited attitude. "Let you dare--you -youthful, proud young republic,--to insult our Canadian flag. You would -see where stands Agapit LeNoir! England is the greatest nation in the -world," and proudly swelling out his breast, he swept his glance over -the majestic Bay before them. - -"Yes, barring the United States of America." - -"I cannot quarrel with you," said Agapit, and the fire left his glance, -and moisture came to his eyes. "Let us each hold to our own opinion." - -"And suppose insults not forthcoming,--give me some further explanation -meantime." - -"My quarrel is not with the great-minded," said Agapit, earnestly, "the -eagerly anxious-for-peace Englishmen in years gone by, who reinforced -the kings and queens of England. No,--I impeach the low-born upstarts -and their colonial accomplices. Do you know, can you imagine, that the -diabolical scheme of the expulsion of the Acadiens was conceived by a -barber, and carried into decapitation by a house painter?" - -"Not possible," murmured Vesper. - -"Yes, possible,--let me find you a seat. I shall not forgive myself if I -weary you, and those women will kill me." - -They had reached the wharf, and Agapit pointed to a pile of boards -against the wooden breastwork that kept the waves from dashing over in -times of storm. - -"That infamous letter is always like a scroll of fire before me," he -exclaimed, pacing restlessly to and fro before Vesper and the child. "In -it the once barber and footman, Craggs, who was then secretary of state, -wrote to the governor of Nova Scotia: 'I see you do not get the better -of the Acadiens. It is singular that those people should have preferred -to lose their goods rather than be exposed to fight against their -brethren. This sentimentality is stupid.' Ah, let it be stupid!" -exclaimed Agapit, breaking off. "Let us once more have an expulsion. The -Acadiens will go, they will suffer, they will die, before they give up -sentimentality." - -"Hear, hear!" observed Vesper. - -Agapit surveyed him with a glowing eye. "Listen to further words from -this solemn official, this barber secretary: 'These people are evidently -too much attached to their fellow countrymen and to their religion ever -to make true Englishmen.' Of what are true Englishmen made, Mr. -Englishman from Boston?" - -"Of poor Frenchmen, according to the barber." - -"Now hear more courtly language from the honorable Craggs: 'It must be -avowed that your position is deucedly critical. It was very difficult to -prevent them from departing after having left the bargain to their -choice--'" - -"What does he mean by that?" asked Vesper. - -"Call to your memory the terms of the treaty of Utrecht." - -"I don't remember a word of it,--bear in mind, my friend, that I am not -an Acadien, and this question does not possess for me the moving -interest it does for you. I only know Longfellow's 'Evangeline,'--which, -until lately, has always seemed to me to be a pretty myth dressed up to -please the public, and make money for the author,--some magazine -articles, and Parkman, my favorite historian, whom you, nevertheless, -seem to dislike." - -Agapit dropped on a block of wood, and rocked himself to and fro, as if -in distress. "I will not characterize Parkman, since he is your -countryman; but I would dearly love--I would truly admire to say what I -think of him. Now as to the treaty of Utrecht; think just a moment, and -you will remember that it transferred the Acadiens as the subjects of -Louis XIV. of France to the good Queen Anne of England." - -Vesper, instead of puzzling his brain with historical reminiscences, -immediately began to make preparations for physical comfort, and -stretched himself out on the pile of boards, with his arm for a pillow. - -"Do not sleep, but conversate," said Agapit, eagerly. "It is cool here, -you possibly would get cold if you shut your eyes. I will change this -matter of talk,--there is one I would fain introduce." - -Vesper, in inward diversion, found that a new solemnity had taken -possession of the young Acadien. He looked unutterable things at the -Bay, indescribable things at the sky, and mysterious things at the cook -of the schooner, who had just thrust his head through a window in his -caboose. - -At last he gave expression to his emotion. "Would this not be a fitting -time to talk of the wonderful letter of which madame, your mother, -hinted?" - -Vesper, without a word, drew a folded paper from his pocket, and handed -it to him. - -Agapit took it reverently, swayed back and forth while devouring its -contents, then, unable to restrain himself, sprang up, and walked, or -rather ran, to and fro while perusing it a second time. - -At last he came to a dead halt, and breathing hard, and with eyes -aflame, ejaculated, "Thank you, a thousand, thousand time for showing me -this precious letter." Then pressing it to his breast, he disappeared -entirely from Vesper's range of vision. - -After a time he came back. Some of his excitement had gone from his head -through his heels, and he sank heavily on a block of wood. - -"You do not know, you cannot tell," he said, "what this letter means to -us." - -"What does it mean?" - -"It means--I do not know that I can say the word, but I will -try--cor-rob-oration." - -"Explain a little further, will you?" - -"In the past all was for the English. Now records are being discovered, -old documents are coming to light. The guilty colonial authorities -suppressed them. Now these records declare for the Acadiens." - -"So--this letter, being from one on the opposite side, is valuable." - -"It is like a diamond unearthed," said Agapit, turning it over; -"but,"--in sudden curiosity,--"this is a copy mutilated, for the name of -the captain is not here. From whom did you have it, if I am permitted to -ask?" - -"From the great-grandson of the old fellow mentioned." - -"And he does not wish his name known?" - -"Well, naturally one does not care to shout the sins of one's -ancestors." - -"The noble young man, the dear young man," said Agapit, warmly. "He will -atone for the sins of his fathers." - -"Not particularly noble, only business-like." - -"And has he much money, that he wishes to aid this family of Acadiens?" - -"No, not much. His father's family never succeeded in making money and -keeping it. His mother is rich." - -"I should like to see him," exclaimed Agapit, and his black eyes flashed -over Vesper's composed features. "I should love him for his sensitive -heart." - -"There is nothing very interesting about him," said Vesper. "A sick, -used-up creature." - -"Ah,--he is delicate." - -"Yes, and without courage. He is a college man and would have chosen a -profession if his health had not broken down." - -"I pity him from my heart; I send good wishes to his sick-bed," said -Agapit, in a passion of enthusiasm. "I will pray to our Lord to raise -him." - -"Can you give him any assistance?" asked Vesper, nodding towards the -letter. - -"I do not know; I cannot tell. There are many LeNoirs. But I will go -over my papers; I will sit up at night, as I now do some writing for -the post-office. You know I am poor, and obliged to work. I must pay -Rose for my board. I will not depend on a woman." - -Vesper half lifted his drooping eyelids. "What are you going to make of -yourself?" - -"I wish to study law. I save money for a period in a university." - -"How old are you?" - -"Twenty-three." - -"Your cousin looks about that age." - -"She is twenty-four,--a year older; and you,--may I ask your age?" - -"Guess." - -Agapit studied his face. "You are twenty-six." - -"No." - -"I daresay we are both younger than Rose," said Agapit, ingenuously, -"and she has less sense than either." - -"Did your ancestors come from the south of France?" asked Vesper, -abruptly. - -"Not the LeNoirs; but my mother's family was from Provence. Why do you -ask?" - -"You are like a Frenchman of the south." - -"I know that I am impetuous," pursued Agapit. "Rose says that I resemble -the tea-kettle. I boil and bubble all the time that I am not asleep, -and"--uneasily--"she also says that I speak too hastily of women; that -I do not esteem them as clever as they are. What do you think?" - -Vesper laughed quickly. "Southerners all have a slight contempt for -women. However, they are frank about it. Is there one thought agitating -your bosom that you do not express?" - -"No; most unfortunately. It chagrins me that I speak everything. I feel, -and often speak before I feel, but what can one do? It is my nature. -Rose also follows her nature. She is beautiful, but she studies nothing, -absolutely nothing, but the science of cooking." - -"Without which philosophers would go mad from indigestion." - -"Yes; she was born to cook and to obey. Let her keep her position, and -not say, 'Agapit, thou must do so and so,' as she sometimes will, if I -am not rocky with her." - -"Rocky?" queried Vesper. - -"Firmy, firm," said Agapit, in confusion. "The words twist in my mind, -unless my blood is hot, when I speak better. Will you not correct me? -Upon going out in the world I do not wish to be laughed." - -"To be laughed at," said his new friend. "Don't worry yourself. You -speak well enough, and will improve." - -Agapit grew pale with emotion. "Ah, but we shall miss you when you go! -There has been no Englishman here that we so liked. I hope that you will -be long in finding the descendants of the Fiery Frenchman." - -"Perhaps I shall find some of them in you and your cousin," said Vesper. - -"Ah, if you could, what joy! what bliss!--but I fear it is not so. Our -forefathers were not of Grand Pré." - -Vesper relapsed into silence, only occasionally rousing himself to -answer some of Agapit's restless torrent of remarks about the ancient -letter. At last he grew tired, and, sitting up, laid a caressing hand on -the head of Narcisse, who was playing with some shells beside him. -"Come, little one, we must return to the house." - -On the way back they met the blacksmith. Agapit snickered gleefully, -"All the world supposes that he is making the velvet paw to Rose." - -"She drives with him," said Vesper, indifferently. - -"Yes, but to obtain news of her sister who flouts him. She is down the -Bay, and Rose receives news of her. She will no longer drive with him if -she hears this gossip." - -"Why should she not?" - -"I do not know, but she will not. Possibly because she is no coquette." - -"She will probably marry some one." - -"She cannot," muttered Agapit, and he fell into a quiet rage, and out of -it again in the duration of a few seconds. Then he resumed a -light-hearted conversation with Vesper, who averted his curious eyes -from him. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - BACK TO THE CONCESSION. - - "And Nature hath remembered, for a trace - Of calm Acadien life yet holds command, - Where, undisturbed, the rustling willows stand, - And the curved grass, telling the breeze's pace." - - J. F. H. - - -Mrs. Rose à Charlitte served her dinner in the middle of the day. The -six o'clock meal she called supper. - -With feminine insight she noticed, at supper, on a day a week later, -that her guest was more quiet than usual, and even dull in humor. - -Agapit, who was nearly always in high spirits, and always very much -absorbed in himself, came bustling in,--sobered down for one minute to -cross himself, and reverently repeat a _bénédicité_, then launched into -a voluble and enjoyable conversation on the subject of which he never -tired,--his beloved countrymen, the Acadiens. - -Rose withdrew to the innermost recesses of her pantry. "Do you know -these little berries?" she asked, coming back, and setting a glass -dish, full of a thick, whitish preserve, before Vesper. - -"No," he said, absently, "what are they?" - -"They are _poudabre_, or _capillaire_,--waxen berries that grow deep in -the woods. They hide their little selves under leaves, yet the children -find them. They are expensive, and we do not buy many, yet perhaps you -will find them excellent." - -"They are delicious," said Vesper, tasting them. - -"Give me also some," said Agapit, with pretended jealousy. "It is not -often that we are favored with _poudabre_." - -"There are yours beside your plate," said Rose, mischievously; "you -have, if anything, more than Mr. Nimmo." - -She very seldom mentioned Vesper's name. It sounded foreign on her lips, -and he usually liked to hear her. This evening he paid no attention to -her, and, with a trace of disappointment in her manner, she went away to -the kitchen. - -After Vesper left the table she came back. "Agapit, the young man is -dull." - -"I assure thee," said Agapit, in French, and very dictatorially, "he is -as gay as he usually is." - -"He is never gay, but this evening he is troubled." - -Agapit grew uneasy. "Dost thou think he will again become ill?" - -Rose's brilliant face became pale. "I trust not. Ah, that would be -terrible!" - -"Possibly he thinks of something. Where is his mother?" - -"Above, in her room. Some books came from Boston in a box, and she -reads. Go to him, Agapit; talk not of the dear dead, but of the living. -Seek not to find out in what his dullness consists, and do not say -abrupt things, but gentle. Remember all the kind sayings that thou -knowest about women. Say that they are constant if they truly love. They -do not forget." - -Agapit's fingers remained motionless in the bowl of the big pipe that he -was filling with tobacco. "_Ma foi_, but thou art eloquent. What has -come over thee?" - -"Nothing, nothing," she said, hurriedly, "I only wonder whether he -thinks of his _fiancée_." - -"How dost thou know he has a _fiancée_?" - -"I do not know, I guess. Surely, so handsome a young man must belong -already to some woman." - -"Ah,--probably. Rose, I am glad that thou hast never been a coquette." - -"And why should I be one?" she asked, wonderingly. - -"Why, thou hast ways,--sly ways, like most women, and thou art meek and -gentle, else why do men run after thee, thou little bleating lamb?" - -Rose made him no answer beyond a shrug of her shoulders. - -"But thou wilt not marry. Is it not so?" he continued, with tremulous -eagerness. "It is better for thee to remain single and guard thy child." - -She looked up at him wistfully, then, as solemnly as if she were taking -a vow, she murmured, "I do not know all things, but I think I shall -never marry." - -Agapit could scarcely contain his delight. He laid a hand on her -shoulder, and exclaimed, "My good little cousin!" Then he lighted his -pipe and smoked in ecstatic silence. - -Rose occupied herself with clearing the things from the table, until a -sudden thought struck Agapit. "Leave all that for Célina. Let us take a -drive, you and I and the little one. Thou hast been much in the house -lately." - -"But Mr. Nimmo--will it be kind to leave him?" - -"He can come if he will, but thou must also ask madame. Go then, while I -harness Toochune." - -"I am not ready," said Rose, shrinking back. - -"Ready!" laughed Agapit. "I will make thee ready," and he pulled her -shawl and handkerchief from a peg near the kitchen door. - -"I had the intention of wearing my hat," faltered Rose. - -"Absurdity! keep it for mass, and save thy money. Go ask the young man, -while I am at the stable." - -Rose meekly put on the shawl and the handkerchief, and went to the front -of the house. - -Vesper stood in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back. She -could only see his curly head, a bit of his cheek, and the tip of his -mustache. At the sound of her light step he turned around, and his face -brightened. - -"Look at the sunset," he said, kindly, when she stood in embarrassment -before him. "It is remarkable." - -It was indeed remarkable. A blood-red sun was shouldering his way in and -out of a wide dull mass of gray cloud that was unrelieved by a single -fleck of color. - -Rose looked at the sky, and Vesper looked at her, and thought of a -grieving Madonna. She had been so gay and cheerful lately. What had -happened to call that expression of divine tenderness and sympathy to -her face? He had never seen her so ethereal and so spiritually -beautiful, not even when she was bending over his sick-bed. What a rest -and a pleasure to weary eyes she was, in her black artistic garments, -and how pure was the oval of her face, how becoming the touch of -brownness on the fair skin. The silk handkerchief knotted under her chin -and pulled hood-wise over the shock of flaxen hair combed up from the -forehead, which two or three little curls caressed daintily, gave the -finishing touch of quaintness and out-of-the-worldness to her -appearance. - -"You are feeling slightly blue this evening, are you not?" he asked. - -"Blue,--that means one's thoughts are black?" said Rose, bringing her -glance back to him. - -"Yes." - -"Then I am a very little blue," she said, frankly. "This inn is like the -world to me. When those about me are sad, I, too, am sad. Sometimes I -grieve when strangers go,--for days in advance I have a weight at heart. -When they leave, I shut myself in my room. For others I do not care." - -"And are you melancholy this evening because you are thinking that my -mother and I must soon leave?" - -Her eyes filled with tears. "No; I did not think of that, but I do now." - -"Then what was wrong with you?" - -"Nothing, since you are again cheerful," she said, in tones so doleful -that Vesper burst into one of his rare laughs, and Rose, laughing with -him, brushed the tears from her face. - -"There was something running in my mind that made me feel gloomy," he -said, after a short silence. "It has been haunting me all day." - -Her eager glance was a prayer to him to share the cause of his -unhappiness with her, and he recited, in a low, penetrating voice, the -lines: - - "Mon Dieu, pour fuir la mort n'est-il aucun moyen? - Quoi? Dans un jour peut-être immobile et glacé.... - Aujourd'hui avenir, le monde, la pensée - Et puis, demain, ... plus rien." - -Rose had never heard anything like this, and she was troubled, and -turned her blue eyes to the sky, where a trailing white cloud was -soaring above the dark cloud-bank below. "It is like a soul going up to -our Lord," she murmured, reverently. - -Vesper would not shock her further with his heterodoxy. "Forget what I -said," he went on, lightly, "and let me beg you never to put anything on -your head but that handkerchief. You Acadien women wear it with such an -air." - -"But it is because we know how to tie it. Look,--this is how the Italian -women in Boston carry those colored ones," and, pulling the piece of -silk from her head, she arranged it in severe lines about her face. - -"A decided difference," Vesper was saying, when Agapit came around the -corner of the house, driving Toochune, who was attached to a shining -dog-cart. - -"Are you going with us?" he called out. - -"I have not yet been asked." - -"Thou naughty Rose," exclaimed Agapit; but she had already hurried -up-stairs to invite Mrs. Nimmo to accompany them. "Madame, your mother, -prefers to read," she said, when she came back, "therefore Narcisse will -come." - -"Mount beside me," said Agapit to Vesper; "Rose and Narcisse will sit in -the background." - -"No," said Vesper, and he calmly assisted Rose to the front seat, then -extended a hand to swing Narcisse up beside her. The child, however, -clung to him, and Vesper was obliged to take him in the back seat, where -he sat nodding his head and looking like a big perfumed flower in his -drooping hat and picturesque pink trousers. - -"You smile," said Agapit, who had suddenly twisted his head around. - -"I always do," said Vesper, "for the space of five minutes after getting -into this cart." - -"But why?" - -"Well--an amusing contrast presents itself to my mind." - -"And the contrast, what is it?" - -"I am driving with a modern Evangeline, who is not the owner of the -rough cart that I would have fancied her in, a few weeks ago, but of a -trap that would be an ornament to Commonwealth Avenue." - -"Am I the modern Evangeline?" said Agapit, in his breakneck fashion. - -"To my mind she was embodied in the person of your cousin," and Vesper -bowed in a sidewise fashion towards his landlady. - -Rose crimsoned with pleasure. "But do you think I am like -Evangeline,--she was so dark, so beautiful?" - -"You are passable, Rose, passable," interjected Agapit, "but you lack -the passion, the fortitude of the heroine of Mr. Nimmo's immortal -countryman, whom all Acadiens venerate. Alas! only the poets and -story-tellers have been true to Acadie. It is the historians who lie." - -"Why do you think your cousin is lacking in passion and fortitude?" -asked Vesper, who had either lost his gloomy thoughts, or had completely -subdued them, and had become unusually vivacious. - -"She has never loved,--she cannot. Rose, did you love your husband as I -did _la belle Marguerite_?" - -"My husband was older,--he was as a father," stammered Rose. "Certainly -I did not tear my hair, I did not beat my foot on the ground when he -died, as you did when _la belle_ married the miller." - -"Have you ever loved any man?" pursued Agapit, unmercifully. - -"Oh, shut up, Agapit," muttered Vesper; "don't bully a woman." - -Agapit turned to stare at him,--not angrily, but rather as if he had -discovered something new and peculiar in the shape of young manhood. -"Hear what she always says when young men, and often old men, drive up -and say, 'Rose à Charlitte, will you marry me?' She says, 'Love,--it is -all nonsense. You make all that.' Is it not so, Rose?" - -"Yes," she replied, almost inaudibly; "I have said it." - -"You make all that," repeated Agapit, triumphantly. "They can rave and -cry,--they can say, 'My heart is breaking;' and she responds, -'Love,--there is no such thing. You make all that.' And yet you call her -an Evangeline, a martyr of love who laid her life on its holy altar." - -Rose was goaded into a response, and turned a flushed and puzzled face -to her cousin. "Agapit, I will explain that lately I do not care to say -'You make all that.' I comprehend--possibly because the blacksmith talks -so much to me of his wish towards my sister--that one does not make -love. It is something that grows slowly, in the breast, like a flower. -Therefore, do not say that I am of ice or stone." - -"But you do not care to marry,--you just come from telling me so." - -"Yes; I am not for marriage," she said, modestly, "yet do not say that I -understand not. It is a beautiful thing to love." - -"It is," said Agapit, "yet do not think of it, since thou dost not care -for a husband. Let thy thoughts run on thy cooking. Thou wert born for -that. I think that thou must have arrived in this world with a little -stew-pan in thy hand, a tasting fork hanging at thy girdle. Do not wish -to be an Evangeline or to read books. Figure to yourself, Mr. -Nimmo,"--and he turned his head to the back seat,--"that last night she -came to my room, she begged me for an English book,--she who says often -to Narcisse, 'I will shake thee, my little one, if thou usest English -words.' She says now that she wishes to learn,--she finds herself -forgetful of many things that she learned in the convent. I said, 'Go to -bed, thou silly fool. Thy eyes are burning and have black rings around -them the color of thy stove,' and she whimpered like a baby." - -"Your cousin is an egotist, Mrs. Rose," said Vesper, over his shoulder. -"I will lend you some books." - -"Agapit is as a brother," she replied, simply. - -"I have been a good brother to thee," he said, "and I will never forget -thee; not even when I go out into the world. Some day I will send for -thee to live with me and my wife." - -"Perhaps thy wife will not let me," she said, demurely. - -"Then she may leave me; I detest women who will not obey." - -For some time the cousins chattered on and endeavored to snatch a -glimpse, in "time's long and dark prospective glass," of Agapit's future -wife, while Vesper listened to them with as much indulgence as if they -had been two children. He was just endeavoring to fathom the rationale -of their curious interchange of _thou_ and _you_, when Agapit said, "If -it is agreeable to you, we will drive back in the woods to the -Concession. We have a cousin who is ill there,--see, here we pass the -station," and he pointed his whip at the gabled roof near them. - -The wheels of the dog-cart rolled smoothly over the iron rails, and they -entered upon a road bordered by sturdy evergreens that emitted a -deliciously resinous odor and occasioned Mrs. Rose to murmur, -reverently, "It is like mass; for from trees like these the altar boys -get the gum for incense." - -Wild gooseberry and raspberry bushes lined the roadside, and under their -fruit-laden branches grew many wild flowers. A man who stopped Agapit to -address a few remarks to him gathered a handful of berries and a few -sprays of wild roses and tossed them in Narcisse's lap. - -The child uttered a polite, "_Merci, monsieur_" (thank you, sir), then -silently spread the flowers and berries on the lap rug and allowed tears -from his beautiful eyes to drop on them. - -Vesper took some of the berries in his hand, and carefully explained to -the sorrowing Narcisse that the sensitive shrubs did not shiver when -their clothes were stripped from them and their hats pulled off. They -were rather shaking their sides in laughter that they could give -pleasure to so good and gentle a boy. And the flowers that bowed so -meekly when one wished to behead them, were trembling with delight to -think that they should be carried, for even a short time, by one who -loved them so well. - -Narcisse at last was comforted, and, drying his tears, he soberly ate -the berries, and presented the roses to his mother in a brilliant -nosegay, keeping only one that he lovingly fastened in his neck, where -it could brush against his cheek. - -Soon they were among the clearings in the forest. Back of every farm -stood grim trees in serried rows, like soldiers about to close in on the -gaps made in their ranks by the diligent hands of the Acadien farmers. -The trees looked inexorable, but the farmers were more so. Here in the -backwoods so quiet and still, so favorable for farming, the forest must -go as it had gone near the shore. - -About every farmhouse, men and women were engaged in driving in cows, -tying up horses, shutting up poultry, feeding pigs, and performing the -hundred and one duties that fall to the lot of a farmer's family. -Everywhere were children. Each farmer seemed to have a quiver full of -these quiet, well-behaved little creatures, who gazed shyly and -curiously at the dog-cart as it went driving by. - -When they came to a brawling, noisy river, having on its banks a -saw-mill deserted for the night, Agapit exclaimed, "We are at last -arrived!" - -Close to the mill was a low, old-fashioned house, situated in the midst -of an extensive apple orchard in which the fruit was already taking on -size and color. - -"They picked four hundred barrels from it last year," said Agapit, "our -cousins, the Kessys, who live here. They are rich, but very simple," and -springing out, he tied Toochune's head to the gatepost. "Now let us -enter," he said, and he ushered Vesper into a small, dull room where an -old woman of gigantic stature sat smoking by an open fireplace. - -Another tall woman, with soft black eyes, and wearing on her breast a -medal of the congregation of St. Anne, took Rose away to the sick-room, -while Agapit led Vesper and Narcisse to the fireplace. "Cousin -grandmother, will you not tell this gentleman of the commencement of the -Bay?" - -The old woman, who was nearly sightless, took her pipe from her mouth, -and turned her white head. "Does he speak French?" - -"Yes, yes," said Agapit, joyfully. - -A light came into her face,--a light that Vesper noticed always came -into the faces of Acadiens, no matter how fluent their English, if he -addressed them in their mother tongue. - -"I was born _en haut de la Baie_" (up the Bay), she began, softly. - -"Further than Sleeping Water,--towards Digby," said Agapit, in an -undertone. - -"Near Bleury," she continued, "where there were only eight families. In -the morning my mother would look out at the neighbors' chimneys; where -she saw smoke she would send me, saying, 'Go, child, and borrow fire.' -Ah! those were hard days. We had no roads. We walked over the beach -fifteen miles to Pointe à l'Eglise to hear mass sung by the good Abbé. - -"There were plenty of fish, plenty of moose, but not so many boats in -those days. The hardships were great, so great that the weak died. Now -when my daughter sits and plays on the organ, I think of it. David -Kessy, my father, was very big. Once our wagon, loaded with twenty -bushels of potatoes, stuck in the mud. He put his shoulder against it -and lifted it. Nowadays we would rig a jack, but my father was strong, -so strong that he took insults, though he trembled, for he knew a blow -from his hand would kill a man." - -The Acadienne paused, and fell into a gentle reverie, from which Agapit, -who was stepping nimbly in and out of the room with jelly and other -delicacies that he had brought for the invalid, soon roused her. - -"Tell him about the derangement, cousin grandmother," he vociferated in -her ear, "and the march from Annapolis." - - - - - CHAPTER XI - - NEWS OF THE FIERY FRENCHMAN. - - "Below me winds the river to the sea, - On whose brown slope stood wailing, homeless maids; - Stood exiled sons; unsheltered hoary heads; - And sires and mothers dumb in agony. - The awful glare of burning homes, where free - And happy late they dwelt, breaks on the shades, - Encompassing the sailing fleet; then fades, - With tumbling roof, upon the night-bound sea. - How deep is hope in sorrow sunk! How harsh - The stranger voice; and loud the hopeless wail! - Then silence came to dwell; the tide fell low; - The embers died. On the deserted marsh, - Where grain and grass stirred only to the gale, - The moose unchased dare cross the Gaspereau." - - J. F. HERBIN. - - -An extraordinary change came over the aged woman at Agapit's words. Some -color crept to her withered cheeks. She straightened herself, and, no -longer leaning on her cane, said, in a loud, firm voice, to Vesper, "The -Acadiens were not all stolen from Annapolis at the derangement. Did you -think they were?" - -"I don't know that I ever thought about it, madame," he said, -courteously; "but I should like to know." - -"About fifty families ran to the wood," she said, with mournful -vivacity; "they spent the winter there; I have heard the old people talk -of it when I was young. They would sit by the fire and cry. I would try -not to cry, but the tears would come. They said their good homes were -burnt. Only at night could they revisit them, lest soldiers would catch -them. They dug their vegetables from the ground. They also got one cow -and carried her back. Ah, she was a treasure! There was one man among -them who was only half French, and they feared him, so they watched. One -day he went out of the woods,--the men took their guns and followed. -Soon he returned, fifty soldiers marching behind him. 'Halt!' cried the -Acadiens. They fired, they killed, and the rest of the soldiers ran. -'Discharge me! discharge me!' cried the man, whom they had caught. 'Yes, -we will discharge you,' they said, and they put his back against a tree, -and once more they fired, but very sadly. At the end of the winter some -families went away in ships, but the Comeaus, Thibaudeaus, and Melançons -said, 'We cannot leave Acadie; we will find a quiet place.' So they -began a march, and one could trace them by the graves they dug. I will -not tell you all, for why should you be sad? I will say that the -Indians were good, but sometimes the food went, and they had to boil -their moccasins. One woman, who had a young baby, got very weak. They -lifted her up, they shook the pea-straw stuffing from the sack she lay -on, and found her a handful of peas, which they boiled, and she got -better. - -"They went on and on, they crossed streams, and carried the little ones, -until they came here to the Bay,--to Grosses Coques,--where they found -big clams, and the tired women said, 'Here is food; let us stay.' - -"The men cut a big pine and hollowed a boat, in which they went to the -head of the Bay for the cow they had left there. They threw her down, -tied her legs, and brought her to Grosses Coques. Little by little they -carried also other things to the Bay, and made themselves homes. - -"Then the families grew, and now they cover all the Bay. Do you -understand now about the march from Annapolis?" - -"Thank you, yes," said Vesper, much moved by the sight of tears -trickling down her faded face. - -"What reason did the old people give for this expulsion from their -homes?" - -"Always the same, always, always," said Madame Kessy, with energy. "They -would not take the oath, because the English would not put in it that -they need not fight against the French." - -"But now you are happy under English rule?" - -"Yes, now,--but the past? What can make up for the weeping of the old -people?" - -Nothing could, and Vesper hastened to introduce a new subject of -conversation. "I have heard much about the good Abbé that you speak of. -Did you ever see him?" - -"See him,--ah, sir, he was an angel of God, on this Bay, and he a -gentleman out of France. We were all his children, even the poor -Indians, whom he gathered around him and taught our holy religion, till -their fine voices would ring over the Bay, in hymns to the ever blessed -Virgin. He denied himself, he paid our doctors' bills, even to twenty -pounds at a time,--ah, there was mourning when he died. When my bans -were published in church the good Abbé rode no more on horseback along -the Bay. He lay a corpse, and I could scarcely hold up my head to be -married." - -"In speaking of those old days," said Vesper, "can you call to mind ever -hearing of a LeNoir of Grand Pré called the Fiery Frenchman?" - -"Of Etex LeNoir," cried the old woman, in trumpet tones, "of the martyr -who shamed an Englishman, and was murdered by him?" - -"Yes, that is the man." - -"I have heard of him often, often. The old ones spoke of it to me. His -heart was broken,--the captain, who was more cruel than Winslow, called -him a papist dog, and struck him down, and the sailors threw him into -the sea. He laid a curse on the wicked captain, but I cannot remember -his name." - -"Did you ever hear anything of the wife and child of Etex LeNoir?" - -"No," she said, absently, "there was only the husband Etex that I had -heard of. Would not his wife come back to the Bay? I do not know," and -she relapsed into the dullness from which her temporary excitement had -roused her. - -"He was called the Fiery Frenchman," she muttered, presently, but so low -that Vesper had to lean forward to hear her. "The old ones said that -there was a mark like flame on his forehead, and he was like fire -himself." - -"Agapit, is it not time that we embark?" said Rose, gliding from an -inner room. "It will soon be dark." - -Agapit sprang up. Vesper shook hands with Madame Kessy and her daughter, -and politely assured them, in answer to their urgent request, that he -would be sure to call again, then took his seat in the dog-cart, where -in company with his new friends he was soon bowling quickly over a bit -of smooth and newly repaired road. - -Away ahead, under the trees, they soon heard snatches of a lively song, -and presently two young men staggered into view supporting each other, -and having much difficulty in keeping to their side of the road. - -Agapit, with angry mutterings, drove furiously by the young men, with -his head well in the air, although they saluted him as their dear cousin -from the Bay. - -Rose did not speak, but she hung her head, and Vesper knew that she was -blushing to the tips of the white ears inside her black handkerchief. - -No one ventured a remark until they reached a place where four roads -met, when Agapit ejaculated, desperately, "The devil is also here!" - -Vesper turned around. The sun had gone down, the twilight was nearly -over, but he possessed keen sight and could plainly discover against the -dull blue evening sky the figures of a number of men and boys, some of -whom were balancing themselves on the top of a zigzag fence, while -others stood with hands in their pockets,--all vociferously laughing and -jeering at a man who staggered to and fro in their midst with clenched -fists, and light shirt-sleeves spotted with red. - -"This is abominable," said Agapit, in a rage, and he was about to lay -his whip on Toochune's back when Vesper suggested mildly that he was in -danger of running down some of his countrymen. - -Agapit pulled up the horse with a jerk, and Rose immediately sprang to -the road and ran up to the young man, who had plainly been fighting and -was about to fight again. - -Vesper slipped from his seat and stood by the wheel. - -"Do not follow her," exclaimed Agapit; "they will not hurt her. They -would beat you." - -"I know it." - -"She is my cousin, thou impatient one," pursued Agapit, irritably. "I -would not allow her to be insulted." - -"I know that, too," said Vesper, calmly, and he watched the young men -springing off the fences and hurrying up to Rose, who had taken the -pugilist by the hand. - -"Isidore," she said, sorrowfully, and as unaffectedly as if they had -been alone, "hast thou been fighting again?" - -"It is her second cousin," growled Agapit; "that is why she interferes." - -"_Écoute-moi, écoute-moi_, Rose" (listen to me), stammered the young man -in the blood-stained shirt. "They all set upon me. I was about to be -massacred. I struck out but a little, and I got some taps here and -there. I was drunk at first, but I am not very drunk now." - -"Poor Isidore, I will take thee home; come with me." - -The crowd of men and boys set up a roar. They were quarrelsome and -mischievous, and had not yet got their fill of rowdyism. - -"_Va-t'ang, va-t'ang_" (go away), "Rose à Charlitte. We want no women -here. Go home about thy business. If Big Fists wishes to fight, we will -fight." - -Among all the noisy, discordant voices this was the only insulting one, -and Rose turned and fixed her mild gaze on the offender, who was one of -the oldest men present, and the chief mischief-maker of the -neighborhood. "But it is not well for all to fight one man," she said, -gently. - -"We fight one by one. Isidore is big,--he has never enough. Go away, or -there will yet be a bigger row," and he added a sentence of gross abuse. - -Vesper made a step forward, but Isidore, the young bully, who was of -immense height and breadth, and a son of the old Acadienne that they had -just quitted, was before him. - -"You wish to fight, my friends," he said, jocularly; "here, take this," -and, lifting his big foot, he quickly upset the offender, and kicked him -towards some men in the crowd who were also relatives of Rose. - -One of them sprang forward, and, with his dark face alight with glee at -the chance to avenge the affront offered to his kinswoman, at once -proceeded to beat the offender calmly and systematically, and to roll -him under the fence. - -Rose, in great distress, attempted to go to his rescue, but the young -giant threw his arm around her. "This is only fun, my cousin. Thou must -not spoil everything. Come, I will return with thee." - -"_Nâni_" (no), cried Agapit, furiously, "thou wilt not. Fit company art -thou for strangers!" - -Isidore stared confusedly at him, while Vesper settled the question by -inviting him in the back seat and installing Rose beside him. Then he -held out his arms to Narcisse, who had been watching the disturbance -with drowsy interest, fearful only that the Englishman from Boston might -leave him to take a hand in it. - -As soon as Vesper mounted the seat beside him, Agapit jerked the reins, -and set off at a rapid pace; so rapid that Vesper at first caught only -snatches of the dialogue carried on behind him, that was tearful on the -part of Rose, and meek on that of Isidore. - -Soon Agapit sobered down, and Rose's words could be distinguished. "My -cousin, how canst thou? Think only of thy mother and thy wife; and the -good priest,--suppose he had come!" - -"Then thou wouldst have seen running like that of foxes," replied -Isidore, in good-natured, semi-interested tones. - -"Thou wast not born a drunkard. When sober thou art good, but there -could not be a worse man when drunk. Such a pile of cursing words to go -up to the sky,--and such a volley of fisting. Ah, how thou wast wounding -Christ!" - -Isidore held on tightly, for Agapit was still driving fast, and uttered -an inaudible reply. - -"Tell me where thou didst get that liquor," said Rose. - -"It was a stolen cask, my cousin." - -"Isidore!" - -"But I did not steal it. It came from thy charming Bay. Thou didst not -know that, shortly ago, a captain sailed to Sleeping Water with five -casks of rum. He hired a man from the Concession to help him hide them, -but the man stole one cask. Imagine the rage of the captain, but he -could not prosecute, for it was smuggled. Since then we have fun -occasionally." - -"Who is that bad man? If I knew where was his cask, I would take a -little nail and make a hole in it." - -"Rose, couldst thou expect me to tell thee?" - -"Yes," she said, warmly. Then, remembering that she had been talking -English to his French, she suddenly relapsed into low, swift sentences -in her own tongue, which Vesper could not understand. He caught their -import, however. She was still inveighing against the sin of drunkenness -and was begging him to reform, and her voice did not flag until they -reached his home, where his wife--a young woman with magnificent eyes -and a straight, queenly figure--stood by the gate. - -"_Bon soir_ (good evening), Claudine," called out Agapit. "We have -brought home Isidore, who, hearing that a distinguished stranger was -about to pass through the Concession, thoughtfully put himself on -exhibition at the four roads. You had better keep him at home until _La -Guerrière_ goes back to Saint Pierre." - -"It was _La Guerrière_ that brought the liquor," said Rose, suddenly, to -Isidore. - -He did not contradict her, and she said, firmly, "Never shall that -captain darken my doors again." - -The young Acadien beauty gave Vesper a fleeting glance, then she said, -bitterly, "It should rather be Saint Judas, for from there the evil one -sends stuff to torture us women--Here enter," and half scornfully, half -affectionately, she extended a hand to her huge husband, who was making -a wavering effort to reach the gateway. - -He clung to her as if she had been an anchor, and when she asked him -what had happened to his shirt he stuttered, regretfully, "Torn, -Claudine,--torn again." - -"How many times should one mend a shirt?" she asked, turning her big -blazing eyes on Rose. - -"Charlitte never became drunk," said Rose, in a plaintive voice, "but I -have mended the shirts of my brothers at least a hundred times." - -"Then I have but one more time," said the youthful Madame Kessy. "After -that I shall throw it in the fire. Go into the house, my husband. I was -a fool to have married thee," she added, under her breath. - -Isidore stood tottering on his feet, and regarded her with tipsy -gravity. "And thou shalt come with me, my pretty one, and make me a hot -supper and sing me a song." - -"I will not do that. Thou canst eat cold bread, and I will sing thee a -song with my tongue that will not please thee." - -"The priest married us," said Isidore, doggedly, and in momentary -sobriety he stalked to the place where she stood, picked her up, and, -putting her under his arm, carried her into the house, she meanwhile -protesting and laughing hysterically while she shrieked out something to -Rose about the loan of a sleeve pattern. - -"Yes, yes, I understand," called Rose, "the big sleeve, with many folds; -I will send it. Make thy husband his supper and come soon to see me." - -"Rose," said Agapit, severely, as they drove away, "is it a good thing -to make light of that curse of curses?" - -"To make light of it! _Mon Dieu_, you do not understand. It is men who -make women laugh even when their hearts are breaking." - -Agapit did not reply, and, as they were about to enter a thick wood, he -passed the reins to Vesper and got out to light the lamps. - -While he was fidgeting with them, Rose moved around so that she could -look into the front seat. - -"Your child is all right," said Vesper, gazing down at the head laid -confidingly against his arm. "He is sound asleep,--not a bit alarmed by -that fuss." - -"It does not frighten him when human beings cry out. He only sorrows for -things that have no voices, and he is always right when with you. It is -not that; I wish to ask you--to ask you to forgive me." - -"For what?" - -"But you know--I told you what was not true." - -"Do not speak of it. It was a mere bagatelle." - -"It is not a bagatelle to make untruths," she said, wearily, "but I -often do it,--most readily when I am frightened. But you did not -frighten me." - -Vesper did not reply except by a reassuring glance, which in her -preoccupation she lost, and, catching her breath, she went on, "I think -so often of a sentence from an Englishman that the sisters of a convent -used to say to us,--it is about the little lies as well as the big ones -that come from the pit." - -"Do you mean Ruskin?" said Vesper, curiously, "when he speaks of 'one -falsity as harmless, and another as slight, and another as -unintended,--cast them all aside; they may be light and accidental, but -they are ugly soot from the smoke of the pit for all that?'" - -"Yes, yes, it is that,--will you write it for me?--and remember," she -continued, hurriedly, as she saw Agapit preparing to reënter the cart, -"that I did not say what I did to make a fine tale, but for my people -whom I love. You were a stranger, and I supposed you would linger but a -day and then proceed, and it is hard for me to say that the Acadiens are -no better than the English,--that they will get drunk and fight. I did -not imagine that you would see them, yet I should not have told the -story," and with her flaxen head drooping on her breast she turned away -from him. - -"When is lying justifiable?" asked Vesper of Agapit. - -The young Acadien plunged into a long argument that lasted until they -reached the top of the hill overlooking Sleeping Water. Then he paused, -and as he once more saw above him the wide expanse of sky to which he -was accustomed, and knew that before him lay the Bay, wide, open, and -free, he drew a long breath. - -"Ah, but I am glad to arrive home. When I go to the woods it is as if a -large window through which I had been taking in the whole world had -been closed." - -No one replied to him, and he soon swung them around the corner and up -to the inn door. Rose led her sleepy boy into the kitchen, where bright -lights were burning, and where the maid Célina seemed to be entertaining -callers. Vesper took the lantern and followed Agapit to the stable. - -"Is it a habit of yours to give your hotel guests drives?" he asked, -hanging the lantern on a hook and assisting Agapit in unbuckling straps. - -"Yes, whenever it pleases us. Many, also, hire our horse and pony. You -see that we have no common horse in Toochune." - -"Yes, I know he is a thoroughbred." - -"Rose, of course, could not buy such an animal. He was a gift from her -uncle in Louisiana. He also sent her this dog-cart and her organ. He is -rich, very rich. He went South as a boy, and was adopted by an old -farmer; Rose is the daughter of his favorite sister, and I tell her that -she will inherit from him, for his wife is dead and he is alone, but she -says not to count on what one does not know." - -Vesper had already been favored with these items of information by his -mother, so he said nothing, and assisted Agapit in his task of making -long-legged Toochune comfortable for the night. Having finished, and -being rewarded by a grateful glance from the animal's lustrous eyes, -they both went to the pump outside and washed their hands. - -"It is too fine for the house," said Agapit. "Are you too fatigued to -walk? If agreeable I will take you to Sleeping Water River, where you -have not yet been, and tell you how it accumulated its name. There is no -one inside," he continued, as Vesper cast a glance at the kitchen -windows, "but the miller and his wife, in whom I no longer take -pleasure, and the mail-driver who tells so long stories." - -"So long that you have no chance." - -"Exactly," said Agapit, fumbling in his pocket. "See what I bought -to-day of a travelling merchant. Four cigars for ten cents. Two for you, -and two for me. Shall we smoke them?" - -Vesper took the cigars, slipped them in his pocket, and brought out one -of his own, then with Agapit took the road leading back from the village -to the river. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - AN UNHAPPY RIVER. - - "Pools and shadows merge - Beneath the branches, where the rushes lean - And stumble prone; and sad along the verge - The marsh-hen totters. Strange the branches play - Above the snake-roots in the dark and wet, - Adown the hueless trunks, this summer day. - Strange things the willows whisper." - - J. F. H. - - -"There is a story among the old people," said Agapit, "that a band of -Acadiens, who evaded the English at the time of the expulsion, sailed -into this Bay in a schooner. They anchored opposite Sleeping Water, and -some of the men came ashore in a boat. Not knowing that an English ship -lay up yonder, hidden by a point of land, they pressed back into the -woods towards Sleeping Water Lake. Some of the English, also, were on -their way to this lake, for it is historic. The Acadiens found traces of -them and turned towards the shore, but the English pursued over the -marshes by the river, which at last the Acadiens must cross. They threw -aside their guns and jumped in, and, as one head rose after another, -the English, standing on the bank, shot until all but one were killed. -This one was a Le Blanc, a descendant of René Le Blanc, that one reads -of in 'Evangeline.' Rising up on the bank, he found himself alone. -Figure the anguish of his heart,--his brothers and friends were dead. He -would never see them again, and he turned and stretched out a hand in a -supreme adieu. The English, who would not trouble to swim, fired at him, -and called, 'Go to sleep with your comrades in the river.' - -"'They sleep,' he cried, 'but they will rise again in their children,' -and, quite untouched by their fire, he ran to his boat, and, reaching -the ship, set sail to New Brunswick; and in later years his children and -the children of the murdered ones came back to the Bay, and began to -call the river Sleeping Water, and, in time, the lake, which was Queen -Anne's Lake, was also changed to Sleeping Water Lake." - -"And the soldiers?" - -"Ah! you look for vengeance, but does vengeance always come? Remember -the Persian distich: - - "'They came, conquered, and burned, - Pillaged, murdered, and went.'" - -"I do not understand this question thoroughly," said Vesper, with -irritation, "yet from your conversation it seems not so barbarous a -thing that the Acadiens should have been transported as that those who -remained should have been so persecuted." - -"Now is your time to read 'Richard.' I have long been waiting for your -health to be restored, for it is exciting." - -"That is the Acadien historian you have spoken of?" - -"Yes; and when you read him you will understand my joy at the venerable -letter you showed me. You will see why we blame the guilty Lawrence and -his colleagues, and not England herself, for the wickedness wrought her -French children." - -Vesper smoked out his cigar in silence. They had left the village street -some distance behind them, and were now walking along a flat, narrow -road, having a thick, hedge-like border of tangled bushes and wild -flowers that were agitated by a gentle breeze, and waved out a sweet, -faint perfume on the night air. On either side of them were low, grassy -marshes, screened by clumps of green. - -"We are arrived at last," said Agapit, pausing on a rustic bridge that -spanned the road; "and down there," he went on, in a choking voice, "is -where the bones of my countrymen lie." - -Vesper leaned over the railing. What a sluggish, silent, stealthy river! -He could perceive no flow in its reluctant waters. A few willows, -natives, not French ones, swayed above it, and close to its edge grew -the tall grasses, rustling and whispering together as if imparting -guilty secrets concerning the waters below. - -"Which way does it go?" murmured Vesper; but Agapit did not hear him, -for he was eagerly muttering: "A hateful river,--I never see a bird -drink from it, there are no fishes in it, the lilies will not grow here, -and the children fall in and are drowned; and, though it has often been -sounded, they can find no bottom to it." - -Vesper stared below in silence, only making an involuntary movement when -his companion's cap fell off and struck the face of the dull black -mirror presented to them. - -"Let it go," exclaimed Agapit, with a shudder. "Poor as I am, I would -not wear it now. It is tainted," and flinging back the dark locks from -his forehead, he turned his face towards the shore. - -"No, I will talk no more about the Acadiens," he said, when Vesper tried -to get him to enter upon his favorite theme, "for, though you are -polite, I fear I shall weary you; we will speak of other things." - -The night was a perfect one, and for an hour the two young men walked up -and down the quiet road before the inn, talking at first of the fishing -that was over, and the hunting that would in a few weeks begin. - -Vesper would have enjoyed seeking big game in the backwoods, if his -health had permitted, and he listened with suppressed eagerness to -Agapit's account of a moose hunt. The world of sport disposed of, their -conversation drifted to literature, to science and art in general,--to -women and love affairs, and Agapit rambled on excitedly and delightedly, -while Vesper, contenting himself with the briefest of rejoinders, -extracted an acute and amused interest from the entirely novel and -out-of-the-way opinions presented to him. - -"Ah! but I enjoy this," said Agapit, at last; "it is the fault of my -countrymen that they do not read enough and study,--their sole fault. I -meet with so few who will discuss, yet I must not detain you. Come in, -come in, and I will give you my 'Richard.' Begin not to read him -to-night, for you could not sleep. I believe," and he raised his brown, -flushed face to the stars above, "that he has done justice to the -Acadien people; but remember, we do not complain now. We are faithful to -our sovereign and to our country,--as faithful as you are to your Union. -The smart of the past is over. We ask only that the world may believe -that the Acadiens were loyal and consistent, and that we do not wish for -reparation from England except, perhaps--" and he hesitated and looked -down at the shabby sleeve of his coat, while tears filled his eyes. -"_Mon Dieu!_ I will not speak of the pitiful economies that I am obliged -to practise to educate myself. And there are other young men more poor. -If the colonial government would give us some help, I would go to -college; for now I hesitate lest I should save my money for my family. -If the good lands that were taken from us were now ours, we should be -rich--" - -Vesper liked the young Acadien best in his quiet moods. "Don't worry," -he said, consolingly; "something will turn up. Get me that book, will -you?" - -Vesper paused for an instant when he entered his room. On a table by his -bed was placed a tray, covered by a napkin. Lifting the napkin, he -discovered a wing of cold chicken with jelly, thin slices of bread and -butter, and a covered pitcher of chocolate. - -He poured himself out a cup of the chocolate, and murmuring, "Here's to -the Lady of the Sleeping Water Inn," seized one of the two volumes that -Agapit had given him, and, throwing himself into an easy chair, began to -read. - -One by one the hours slipped away, but he did not move in his chair, -except to put out a hand at regular intervals and turn a leaf. Shortly -before daybreak a chill wind blew up the Bay, and came floating in the -window. He threw down the book, rose slowly to his feet, and looked -about him in a dreamy way. He had been transported to a previous century -and to another atmosphere than this peaceful one. - -He shivered sensitively, and, going to the window, closed it, and stood -gazing at the faint flush in the sky. "O God! it is true," he muttered, -drearily, "we are sent into this world to enact hell. Goethe understood -that. And what a hell of long years was enacted on these shores!" - -"The devils," he went on, in youthful, generous indignation; "they had -no pity, not even after years of suffering on the part of their -victims." - -His eyes smarted, his head ached. He put his hand to his eyes, and, when -it came away wet, he curled his lip. He had not shed tears since he was -a boy. - -Then he threw himself on his bed, and thoughts of his father mingled -with those of the Acadiens. An invincible melancholy took possession of -him, and burying his face in his arms, he lay for a long time with his -whole frame quivering in emotion. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - AN ILLUMINATION. - - "Sait-on où l'on va?" - - -"What a sleeper, what a lover of his bed!" exclaimed Agapit, the next -morning, as he rapped vigorously on Vesper's door. "Is he never going to -rise?" - -"What do you want?" said a voice from within. - -"I, Agapit, latest and warmest of your friends, apologize for disturbing -you, but am forced to ask a question." - -"Come in; the door is not locked." - -Agapit thrust his head in. "Did you sit late reading my books?" - -Vesper lifted his closely cropped curly head from the pillow. "Yes." - -"And did not your heart stir with pity for the unfortunate Acadiens?" - -"I found the history interesting." - -"I wept over it at my first reading,--I gnashed my teeth; but -come,--will you not go to the picnic with us? All the Bay is going, as -the two former days of it were dull." - -"I had forgotten it. Does my mother wish to go?" - -"Madame, your mother, is already prepared. See from your window, she -talks to the mail-driver, who never tires of her adorable French. Do you -know, this morning he came herding down the road three shy children, who -were triplets. She was charmed, having never seen more than twins." - -Vesper raised himself on his elbow and glanced through the window at -Monsieur de la Rive, who, with his bright wings folded close to his -sides, was cheeping voluble remarks to Mrs. Nimmo. - -"All right, I will go," he said. - -Agapit hurried down-stairs, and Vesper began to dress himself in a -leisurely way, stopping frequently to go to the window and gaze dreamily -out at the Bay. - -Soon Rose came to the kitchen door to feed her hens. She looked so -lovely, as she stood with her resplendent head in a blaze of sunlight, -that Vesper's fingers paused in the act of fastening his necktie, and he -stood still to watch her. - -Presently the mail-driver went streaking down the road in fiery flight, -and Mrs. Nimmo, seeing Rose alone, came tripping towards her. To her -son, who understood her perfectly, there were visible in Mrs. Nimmo's -manner some sure and certain signs of an inward disturbance. Rose, -however, perceived nothing, and continued feeding her hens with her -usual grace and composure. - -"Are you not going to the picnic?" asked Mrs. Nimmo, and her eye ran -over the simple cotton gown that Rose always wore in the morning. - -"Yes, madame, but first I do my work." - -"You will be glad to see your friends there,--and your family?" - -"Ah, yes, madame,--it is such a pleasure." - -"I should like to see your sister, Perside." - -"I will present her, madame; she will be honored." - -"And it is she that the blacksmith is going to marry? Do you know," and -Mrs. Nimmo laughed tremulously, "I have been thinking all the time that -it was you." - -"Now I get at the cause of your discontent," soliloquized Vesper, above, -"my poor little mother." - -Rose surveyed her companion in astonishment: "I thought all the Bay -knew." - -"But I am not the Bay," said Mrs. Nimmo, with attempted playfulness; "I -am Boston." - -A shadow crossed Rose's face. "Yes, madame, I know. I might have told -you, but I did not think; and you are delicate,--you would not ask." - -"No, I am not delicate," said Mrs. Nimmo, honestly. "I am inclined to be -curious, or interested in other people, we will say,--I think you are -very kind to be making matrimonial plans for other young women, and not -to think of yourself." - -"Madame?" - -"You do not know that long word. It means pertaining to marriage." - -"Ah! marriage, I understand that. But, lately, I resolve not to marry," -and Rose turned her deep blue eyes, in which there was not a trace of -craft or deceit, on her nervously apprehensive interlocutor, while -Vesper murmured in the window above, "She is absolutely guileless, my -mother; cast out of your mind that vague and formless suspicion." - -Mrs. Nimmo, however, preferred to keep the suspicion, and not only to -keep it, but to foster the stealthy creeping thing until it had taken on -the rudiments of organized reflection. - -"Some young people do not care for marriage," she said, after a long -pause. "My son never has." - -"May the Lord forgive you for that," ejaculated her son, piously. Then -he listened for Rose's response, which was given with deep respect and -humility. "He is devoted to you, madame. It is pleasant to see a son -thus." - -"He is a dear boy, and it would kill me if he were to leave me. I am -glad that you appreciate him, and that he has found this place so -interesting. We shall hate to leave here." - -"Must you go soon, madame?" - -"Pretty soon, I think; as soon as my son finishes this quest of his. You -know it is very quiet here. You like it because it is your home, but we, -of course, are accustomed to a different life." - -"I know that, madame," said Rose, sadly, "and it will seem yet more -quiet when we do not see you. I dread the long days." - -"I daresay we may come back sometime. My son likes to revisit favorite -spots, and the strong air of the Bay certainly agrees wonderfully with -him. He is sleeping like a baby this morning. I must go now and see if -he is up. Thank you for speaking so frankly to me about yourself. Do you -know, I believe you agree with me,"--and Mrs. Nimmo leaned -confidentially towards her,--"that it is a perfectly wicked thing for a -widow to marry again," and she tripped away, folding about her the white -shawl she always wore. - -Rose gazed after her retreating form with a face that was, for a time, -wholly mystified. - -By degrees, her expression became clearer. "Good heavens! she -understands," muttered Vesper; "now let us see if there will be any -resentment." - -There was none. A vivid, agonized blush overspread Rose's cheeks. She -let the last remnant of food slip to the expectant hens from her two -hands, that suddenly went out in a gesture of acute distress; but the -glance that she bestowed on Mrs. Nimmo, who was just vanishing around -the corner of the house, was one of saintly magnanimity, with not a -trace of pride or rebellion in it. - -Vesper shrugged his shoulders and left the window. "Strange that the -best of women will worry each other," and philosophically proceeding -with his toilet, he shortly after went down-stairs. - -After a breakfast that was not scanty, as his breakfasts had been before -his illness, but one that was comprehensive and eaten with good -appetite, he made his way to the parlor, where his mother was sitting -among a number of vivacious Acadiens. - -Rose, slim and elegant in a new black gown, and having on her head a -small straw hat, with a dotted veil drawn neatly over her pink cheeks -and mass of light hair, was receiving other young men and women who were -arriving, while Agapit, burly, and almost handsome in his Sunday suit of -black serge, was bustling about, and, immediately pouncing upon Vesper, -introduced him to each member of the party. - -The young American did not care to talk. He returned to the doorway, -and, loitering there, amused himself by comparing the Acadiens who had -remained at home with those who had gone out into the world. - -The latter were dressed more gaily; they had more assurance, and, in -nearly every case, less charm of manner than the former. There was -Rose's aunt,--white-haired Madame Pitre. She was like a sweet and demure -little owl in her hood-like handkerchief and plain gown. Amandine, her -daughter who had never left the Bay, was a second little owl; but the -sisters Diane and Lucie, factory girls from Worcester, were overdressed -birds of paradise, in their rustling silk blouses, big plumed hats, and -self-conscious manners. - -"Here, at last, is the wagon," cried Agapit, running to the door, as a -huge, six-seated vehicle, drawn by four horses, appeared. He made haste -to assist his friends and relatives into it, then, darting to Vesper, -who stood on the veranda, exclaimed, "The most honorable seat beside me -is for madame, your mother." - -"Do you care to go?" asked Vesper, addressing her. - -"I should like to go to the picnic, but could you not drive me?" - -"But certainly he can," exclaimed Agapit. "Toochune is in the stable. -Possibly this big wagon would be noisy for madame. I will go and -harness." - -"You will do nothing of the kind," said Vesper, laying a detaining hand -on his shoulder. "You go on. We will follow." - -Agapit nodded gaily, and sprang to the box, while Rose bent her flushed -face over Narcisse, who set up a sudden wail of despair. "He is coming, -my child. Thou knowest he does not break his promises." - -Narcisse raised his fist as if to strike her; he was in a fury at being -restrained, and, although ordinarily a shy child, he was at present -utterly regardless of the strangers about him. - -"Stop, stop, Agapit!" cried Diane; "he will cast himself over the -wheel!" - -Agapit pulled up the horses, and Vesper, hearing the disturbance, and -knowing the cause, came sauntering after the wagon, with a broad smile -on his face. - -He became grave, however, when he saw Rose's pained expression. "I think -it better not to yield," she said, in a low voice. "Calm thyself, -Narcisse, thou shalt not get out." - -"I will," gasped the child. "You are a bad mother. The Englishman may -run away if I leave him. You know he is going." - -"Let me have him for a minute," said Vesper. "I will talk to him," and, -reaching out his arms, he took the child from the blacksmith, who swung -him over the side of the wagon. - -"Come get a drink of water," said the young American, good-humoredly. -"Your little face is as red as a turkey-cock's." - -Narcisse pressed his hot forehead to Vesper's cheek, and meekly allowed -himself to be carried into the house. - -"Now don't be a baby," said Vesper, putting him on the kitchen sink, and -holding a glass of water to his lips; "I am coming after you in half an -hour." - -"Will you not run away?" - -"No," said Vesper, "I will not." - -Narcisse gave him a searching look. "I believe you; but my mother once -said to me that I should have a ball, and she did not give it." - -"What is it that the Englishman has done to the child?" whispered Madame -Pitre to her neighbor, when Vesper brought back the quiet and composed -Narcisse and handed him to his mother. "It is like magic." - -"It is rather that the child needs a father," replied the young -Acadienne addressed. "Rose should marry." - -"I wish the Englishman was poor," muttered Madame Pitre, "and also -Acadien; but he does not think of Rose, and Acadiens do not marry out of -their race." - -Vesper watched them out of sight, and then he found that Agapit had -spoken truly when he said that all the Bay was going to the picnic. -Célina's mother, a brown-faced, vigorous old woman who was to take -charge of the inn for the day, was the only person to be seen, and he -therefore went himself to the stable and harnessed Toochune to the -dog-cart. - -Célina's mother admiringly watched the dog-cart joining the procession -of bicycles, buggies, two-wheeled carts, and big family wagons going -down the Bay, and fancied that its occupants must be extremely happy. - -Mrs. Nimmo, however, was not happy, and nothing distracted her attention -from her own teasing thoughts. She listened abstractedly to the merry -chatter of French in the air, and gazed disconsolately at the gloriously -sunny Bay, where a few distant schooner sails stood up sharp against the -sky like the white wings of birds. - -At last she sighed heavily, and said, in a plaintive voice, "Vesper, are -you not getting tired of Sleeping Water?" - -He flicked his whip at a fly that was torturing Toochune, then said, -calmly, "No, I am not." - -"I never saw you so interested in a place," she observed, with a fretful -side glance. "The travelling agents and loquacious peasants never seem -to bore you." - -"But I do not talk to the agents, and I do not find the others -loquacious; neither would I call them peasants." - -"It doesn't matter what you call them. They are all beneath you." - -Vesper looked meditatively across the Bay at a zigzag, woolly trail of -smoke made by a steamer that was going back and forth in a distressed -way, as if unable to find the narrow passage that led to the Bay of -Fundy. - -"The Checkertons have gone to the White Mountains," said Mrs. Nimmo, in -a vexed tone, as if the thought gave her no pleasure. "I should like to -join them there." - -"Very well, we can leave here to-morrow." - -Her face brightened. "But your business?" - -"I can send some one to look after it, or Agapit would attend to it." - -"And you would not need to come back?" - -"Not necessarily. I might do so, however." - -"In the event of some of the LeNoirs being found?" - -"In the event of my not being able to exist without--the Bay." - -"Give me the Charles River," said Mrs. Nimmo, hastily. "It is worth -fifty Bays." - -"To me also," said Vesper; "but there is one family here that I should -like to transplant to the banks of the Charles." - -Mrs. Nimmo did not speak until they had passed through long Comeauville -and longer Saulnierville, and were entering peaceful Meteghan River with -its quietly flowing stream and grassy meadows. Then having partly -subdued the first shock of having a horror of such magnitude presented -to her, she murmured, "Are you sure that you know your own mind?" - -"Quite sure, mother," he said, earnestly and affectionately; "but now, -as always, my first duty is to you." - -Tears sprang to her eyes, and ran quietly down her cheeks. "When you lay -ill," she said, in a repressed voice, "I sat by you. I prayed to God to -spare your life. I vowed that I would do anything to please you, yet, -now that you are well, I cannot bear the idea of giving you up to -another woman." - -Vesper looked over his shoulder, then guided Toochune up by one of the -gay gardens before the never-ending row of houses in order to allow a -hay-wagon to pass them. When they were again in the middle of the road, -he said, "I, too, had serious thoughts when I was ill, but you know how -difficult it is for me to speak of the things nearest my heart." - -"I know that you are a good son," she said, passionately. "You would -give up the woman of your choice for my sake, but I would not allow it, -for it would make you hate me,--I have seen so much trouble in families -where mothers have opposed their sons' marriages. It does no good, and -then--I do not want you to be a lonely old man when I'm gone." - -"Mother," he said, protestingly. - -"How did it happen?" she asked, suddenly composing herself, and dabbing -at her face with her handkerchief. - -Vesper's face grew pale, and, after a short hesitation, he said, -dreamily, "I scarcely know. She has become mixed up with my life in an -imperceptible way, and there is an inexpressible something about her -that I have never found in any other woman." - -Mrs. Nimmo struggled with a dozen conflicting thoughts. Then she sighed, -miserably, "Have you asked her to marry you?" - -"No." - -"But you will?" - -"I do not know," he said, reluctantly. "I have nothing planned. I wish -to tell you, to save misunderstandings." - -"She has some crotchet against marriage,--she told me so this morning. -Do you know what it is?" - -"I can guess." - -Mrs. Nimmo pondered a minute. "She has fallen in love with you," she -said at last, "and because she thinks you will not marry her, she will -have no other man." - -"I think you scarcely understand her. She does not understand herself." - -Mrs. Nimmo uttered a soft, "Nonsense!" under her breath. - -"Suppose we drop the matter for a time," said Vesper, in acute -sensitiveness. "It is in an incipient state as yet." - -"I know you better than to suppose that it will remain incipient," said -his mother, despairingly. "You never give anything up. But, as you say, -we had better not talk any more about it. It has given me a terrible -shock, and I will need time to get over it,--I thank you for telling me, -however," and she silently directed her attention to the distant red -cathedral spire, and the white houses of Meteghan,--the place where the -picnic was being held. - -They caught up with the big wagon just before it reached a large brown -building, surrounded by a garden and pleasure-grounds, and situated some -distance from the road. This was the convent, and Vesper knew that, -within its quiet walls, Rose had received the education that had added -to her native grace the gentle _savoir faire_ that reminded him of -convent-bred girls that he had met abroad, and that made her seem more -like the denizen of a city than the mistress of a little country inn. - -In front of the convent the road was almost blocked by vehicles. Rows of -horses stood with their heads tied to its garden fence, and bicycles by -the dozen were ranged in the shadow of its big trees. Across the road -from it a green field had been surrounded by a hedge of young spruce -trees, and from this enclosure sounds of music and merrymaking could be -heard. A continual stream of people kept pouring in at the -entrance-gate, without, however, making much diminution in the crowd -outside. - -Agapit requested his passengers to alight, then, accompanied by one of -the young men of his party, who took charge of Vesper's horse, he drove -to a near stable. Five minutes later he returned, and found his -companions drawn up together watching Acadien boys and girls flock into -the saloon of a travelling photographer. - -"There is now no time for picture-taking," he vociferated; "come, let us -enter. See, I have tickets," and he proudly marshalled his small army up -to the gate, and entered the picnic grounds at their head. - -They found Vesper and his mother inside. This ecclesiastical fair going -on under the convent walls, and almost in the shadow of the red -cathedral, reminded them of the fairs of history. Here, as there, no -policemen were needed among the throngs of buyers and sellers, who -strolled around and around the grassy enclosure, and examined the wares -exhibited in verdant booths. Good order was ensured by the presence of -several priests, who were greeted with courtesy and reverence by all. -Agapit, who was a devout Catholic, stood with his hat in his hand until -his own parish priest had passed; then his eyes fell on the essentially -modern and central object in the fair grounds,--a huge merry-go-round -from Boston, with brightly painted blue seats, to which a load of -Acadien children clung in an ecstasy of delight, as they felt themselves -being madly whirled through the air. - -"Let us all ride!" he exclaimed. "Come, showman, give us the next turn." - -The wheezing, panting engine stopped, and they all mounted, even Madame -Pitre, who shivered with delicious apprehension, and Mrs. Nimmo, who -whispered in her son's ear, "I never did such a thing before, but in -Acadie one must do as the Acadiens do." - -Vesper sat down beside her, and took the slightly dubious Narcisse on -his knee, holding him closely when an expression of fear flitted over -his delicate features, and encouraging him to sit upright when at last -he became more bold. - -"Another turn," shouted Agapit, when the music ceased, and they were -again stationary. The whistle blew, and they all set out again; but no -one wished to attempt a third round, and, giddily stumbling over each -other, they dismounted and with laughing remarks wandered to another -part of the grounds, where dancing was going on in two spruce arbors. - -"It is necessary for all to join," he proclaimed, at the top of his -voice, but his best persuasions failed to induce either Rose or Vesper -to step into the arbors, where two young Acadiens sat perched up in two -corners, and gleefully tuned their fiddles. - -"She will not dance, because she wishes to make herself singular," -reflected Mrs. Nimmo, bitterly, and Vesper, who felt the unspoken -thought as keenly as if it had been uttered, moved a step nearer Rose, -who modestly stood apart from them. - -Agapit flung down his money,--ten cents apiece for each dance,--and, -ordering his associates to choose their partners, signed to the fiddlers -to begin. - -Mrs. Nimmo forgot Rose for a time, as she watched the dancers. The girls -were shy and demure; the young men danced lustily, and with great -spirit, emphasizing the first note of each bar by a stamp on the floor, -and beating a kind of tattoo with one foot, when not taking part in the -quadrille. - -"Do you have only square dances?" she asked Madame Pitre, when a second -and a third quadrille were succeeded by a fourth. - -"Yes," said the Acadienne, gravely. "There is no sin in a quadrille. -There is in a waltz." - -"Come seek the lunch-tables," said Agapit, presently bursting out on -them, and mopping his perspiring face with his handkerchief. "Most -ambrosial dainties are known to the cooks of this parish." - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - WITH THE OLD ONES. - - "The fresh salt breezes mingle with the smell - Of clover fields and ripened hay beside; - And Nature, musing, happy and serene, - Hath here for willing man her sweetest spell." - - J. F. H. - - -After lunch, the Sleeping Water party separated. The Pitres found some -old friends from up the Bay. Agapit wandered away with some young men, -and Vesper, lazily declining to saunter with them, stood leaning against -a tree behind a bench on which his mother and Rose were seated. - -The latter received and exchanged numerous greetings with her -acquaintances who passed by, sometimes detaining them for an -introduction to Mrs. Nimmo, who was making a supreme effort to be -gracious and agreeable to the woman that the fates had apparently -destined to be her daughter-in-law. - -Vesper looked on, well pleased. "Why do you not introduce me?" he said, -mischievously, while his mother's attention was occupied with two -Acadien girls. - -Rose gave him a troubled glance. She took no pleasure in his presence -now,--his mother had spoiled all that, and, although naturally simple -and unaffected, she was now tortured by self-consciousness. - -"I think that you do not care," she said, in a low voice. - -Vesper did not pursue the subject. "Have all Acadien women gentle -manners?" he asked, with a glance at the pair of shy, retiring ones -talking to his mother. - -A far-away look came into Rose's eyes, and she replied, with more -composure: "The Abbé Casgrain says--he who wrote 'A Pilgrimage to the -Land of Evangeline'--that over all Acadiens hangs a quietness and -melancholy that come from the troubles of long ago; but Agapit does not -find it so." - -"What does Agapit say?" - -"He finds," and Rose drew her slight figure up proudly, "that we are -born to good manners. It was the best blood of France that settled -Acadie. Did our forefathers come here poor? No, they brought much money. -They built fine houses of stone, not wood; Grand Pré was a very fine -village. They also built châteaux. Then, after scatteration, we became -poor; but can we not keep our good manners?" - -Vesper was much diverted by the glance with which his mother, having -bowed farewell to her new acquaintances, suddenly favored Rose. There -was pride in it,--pride in the beauty and distinction of the woman -beside her who was scarcely more than a girl; yet there was also in her -glance a jealousy and aversion that could not yet be overcome. Time -alone could effect this; and smothering a sigh, Vesper lifted his head -towards Narcisse, who had crawled from his shoulder to a most -uncomfortable seat on the lower limb of a pine-tree, where, however, he -professed to be most comfortable, and sat with his head against the -rough bark as delightedly as if it were the softest of cushions. - -"I am quite right," said Narcisse, in English, which language he was -learning with astonishing rapidity, and Vesper again turned his -attention to the picturesque, constantly changing groups of people. He -liked best the brown and wrinkled old faces belonging to farmers and -their wives who were enjoying a well-earned holiday. The young men in -gray suits, he heard Rose telling his mother, were sailors from up the -Bay, whose schooners had arrived just in time for them to throw -themselves on their wheels and come to the picnic. The smooth-faced -girls in blue, with pink handkerchiefs on their heads, were from a -settlement back in the woods. The dark-eyed maidens in sailor hats, who -looked like a troop of young Evangelines, were the six demoiselles -Aucoin, the daughters of a lawyer in Meteghan, and the tall lady in blue -was an Acadienne from New York, who brought her family every summer to -her old home on the Bay. - -"And that tall priest in the distance," said Rose, "is the father in -whose parish we are. Once he was a colonel in the army of France." - -"There is something military in his figure," murmured Mrs. Nimmo. - -"He was born among the Acadiens in France. They did not need him to -ministrate, so when he became a priest he journeyed here," continued -Rose, hurriedly, for the piercing eyes of the kindly-faced ecclesiastic -had sought out Vesper and his mother, and he was approaching them with -an uplifted hat. - -Rose got up and said, in a fluttering voice, "May I present you, Father -La Croix, to Mrs. Nimmo, and also her son?" - -The priest bowed gracefully, and begged to assure madame and her son -that their fame had already preceded them, and that he was deeply -grateful to them for honoring his picnic with their presence. - -"I suppose there are not many English people here to-day," said Mrs. -Nimmo, smiling amiably, while Vesper contented himself with a silent -bow. - -Father La Croix gazed about the crowd, now greatly augmented. "As far as -I can see, madame, you and your son are the only English that we have -the pleasure of entertaining. You are now in the heart of the French -district of Clare." - -"And yet I hear a good deal of English spoken." - -Father La Croix smiled. "We all understand it, and you see here a good -many young people employed in the States, who are home for their -holidays." - -"And I suppose we are the only Protestants here," continued Mrs. Nimmo. - -"The only ones,--you are also alone in the parish of Sleeping Water. If -at any time a sense of isolation should prey upon madame and her son--" - -He did not finish his sentence except by another smile of infinite -amusement, and a slight withdrawal of his firm lips from his set of -remarkably white teeth. - -Rose was disturbed. Vesper noticed that the mention of the word -Protestant at any time sent her into a transport of uneasiness. She was -terrified lest a word might be said to wound his feelings or those of -his mother. - -"_Monsieur le curé_ is jesting, Madame de Forêt," he said, reassuringly. -"He is quite willing that we should remain heretics." - -Rose's face cleared, and Vesper said to the priest, "Are there any old -people here to-day who would be inclined to talk about the early -settlers?" - -"Yes, and they would be flattered,--up behind the lunch-tables is a -knot of old men exchanging reminiscences of early days. May I have the -pleasure of introducing you to them?" - -"I shall be gratified if you will do so," and both men lifted their hats -to Mrs. Nimmo and Rose, and then disappeared among the crowd. - -Narcisse immediately demanded to be taken from the tree, and, upon -reaching the ground, burst into tears. "Look, my mother,--I did not see -before." - -Rose followed the direction of his pointing finger. He pretended to have -just discovered that under the feet of this changeful assemblage were -millions of crushed and suffering grass-blades. - -Rose exchanged a glance with Mrs. Nimmo. This was a stroke of childish -diplomacy. He wished to follow Vesper. - -"Show him something to distract his attention," whispered the elder -woman. "I will go talk to Madame Pitre." - -"See, Narcisse, this little revolver," said Rose, leading him up to a -big wheel of fortune, before which a dozen men sat holding numbered -sticks in their hands. "When the wheel stops, some men lose, others -gain." - -"I see only the grass-blades," wailed Narcisse. "My mother, does it hurt -them to be trampled on?" - -"No, my child; see, they fly back again. I have even heard that it made -them grow." - -"Let us walk where there is no grass," said Narcisse, passionately, and, -drawing her along with him, he went obliviously past the fruit and candy -booths, and the spread tables, to a little knoll where sat three old men -on rugs. - -Vesper lay stretched on the grass before them, and, catching sight of -Narcisse, who was approaching so boldly, and his mother, who was holding -back so shyly, he craved permission from the old men to seat them on one -of the rugs. - -The permission was gladly given, and Rose shook hands with the three old -men, whom she knew well. Two of them were brothers, from Meteghan, the -other was a cousin, from up the Bay, whom they rarely saw. The brothers -were slim, well-made, dapper old men; the cousin was a fat, jolly -farmer, dressed in homespun. - -"I can tell you one of olden times," said this latter, in a thick, -syrupy voice, "better dan dat last." - -"Suppose we have it then," said Vesper. - -"Dere was Pierre Belliveau,--Pierre aged dwenty-one and a half at de -drama of 1755. His fadder was made prisoner. Pierre, he run to de fores' -wid four,--firs' Cyprian Gautreau and de tree brudders, Joseph _dit_ -Coudgeau, Charlitte _dit_ Le Fort--" - -"Is that where the husband of Madame de Forêt got his name?" interrupted -Vesper, indicating his landlady by a gesture. - -"Yes," said the old man, "it is a name of long ago,--besides Charlitte -was Bonaventure, an' dese five men suffered horrible, mos' horrible, for -winter came on, an' dey was all de time hungry w'en dey wasn't eatin', -an' dey had to roam by night like dogs, to pick up w'at dey could. But -dey live till de spring, an' dey wander like de wile beasties roun' de -fores' of Beauséjour, an' dey was well watched by de English. If dey had -been shot, dis man would not be talkin' to you, for Bonaventure was my -ancessor on my modder's side. On a day w'en dey come to Tintamarre--you -know de great ma'sh of Tintamarre?" - -"No; I never heard of it." - -"Well, it big ma'sh in Westmoreland County. One day dey come dere, an' -dey perceive not far from dem a _goêlette_,--a schooner. De sea was low, -an' all de men in de schooner atten' de return of de tide, for dey was -high an' dry. Dose five Acadiens look at dat schooner, den dey -w'isper,--den dey wander, as perchance, near dat schooner. De cap'en -look at dem like a happy wile beas', 'cause he was sent from Port Royal -to catch the runawoods. He call out, he invite dose Acadiens, he say, -'Come on, we make you no harm,' an' dey go, meek like sheep; soon de sea -mount, de cap'en shout, 'Raise de anchor,' but Pierre said, 'We mus' go -ashore.' 'Trow dose Romans in _la cale_,' say dat bad man. _La cale -c'est_--" - -"In the hold," supplied the two other eager old men, in a breath. - -"Yes, in de hole,--but tink you dey went? No; Charlitte he was big, he -had de force of five men, he look at Pierre. Pierre he shout, '_Fesse_, -Charlitte,' and Charlitte he snatch a bar from de deck, he bang it on de -head of de Englishman an' massacre him. 'Debarrass us of anoder,' cried -Pierre. Charlitte he raise his bar again,--an' still anoder, an' tree -Englishmen lay on de deck. Only de cap'en remain, an' a sailor very -big,--mos' as big as Charlitte. De cap'en was consternate, yet he made a -sign of de han'. De sailor jump on Pierre an' try to pitch him in de -hole. Tink you Charlitte let him go? No; he runs, he chucks dat sailor -in de sea. Den de cap'en falls on his knees. 'Spare me de life an' I -will spare you de lives.' 'Spare us de lives!' said Pierre, 'did you -spare de lives of dose unhappy ones of Port Royal whom you sen' to -exile? No; an' you would carry us to Halifax to de cruel English. Dat is -how you spare. Where are our mudders an' fadders, our brudders an' -sisters? You carry dem to a way-off shore w'ere dey cry mos' all de -time. We shall see dem never. Recommen' your soul to God.' Den after a -little he say very low, 'Charlitte _fesse_,' again. An' Charlitte he -_fesse_, an' dey brush de han' over de eyes an' lower dat cap'en in de -sea. - -"Den Pierre, who was fine sailor, run de schooner up to Petitcodiac. -Later on, de son of Bonaventure come to dis Bay, an' his daughter was my -mudder." - -When the old man finished speaking, a shudder ran over the little group, -and Vesper gazed thoughtfully at the lively scene beyond them. This was -a dearly bought picnic. These quiet old men, gentle Mrs. Rose, the -prattling children, the vivacious young men and women, were all -descendants of ancestors who had with tears and blood sought a -resting-place for their children. He longed to hear more of their -exploits, and he was just about to prefer a request when little -Narcisse, who had been listening with parted lips, leaned forward and -patted the old man's boot. "Tell Narcisse yet another story with trees -in it." - -The fat old man nodded his head. "I know anodder of a Belliveau, dis one -Charles. He was a carpenter an' he made ships from trees. At de great -derangement de English hole him prisoner at Port Royal. One of de ships -to take away de Acadiens had broke her mas' in a tempes'. Charles he -make anodder, and w'en he finish dat mas' he ask his pay. One refuse him -dat. Den de mas' will fall,' he say. 'I done someting to it.' De cap'en -hurry to give him de price, an' Charlie he say, 'It all right.' W'en dey -embark de prisoners dey put Charles on dat schooner. Dey soon leave de -war-ship dat go wid dem, but de cap'en of de war-ship he say to de -cap'en of de schooner, 'Take care, my fren', you got some good sailors -'mong dose Acadiens.' De cap'en of de schooner laugh. He was like dose -trees, Narcisse, dat is rooted so strong dey tink dat no ting can never -upset dem. He still let dose Acadiens come on deck,--six, seven at a -times, cause de hole pretty foul, an' dey might die. One day, w'en de -order was given, 'Go down, you Acadiens, an' come up seven odder,' de -firs' lot dey open de hatch, den spring on de bridge. Dey garrotte de -cap'en and crew, an' Charles go to turn de schooner. De cap'en call, -'Dat gran' mas' is weak,--you go for to break it.' 'Liar,' shouted -Charles, 'dis is I dat make it.' Dose Acadiens mount de River St. -John,--I don' know what dey did wid dose English. I hope dey kill 'em," -he added, mildly. - -"Père Baudouin," said Rose, bending forward, "this is an Englishman from -Boston." - -"I know," said the old man; "he is good English, dose were bad." - -Vesper smiled, and asked him whether he had ever heard of the Fiery -Frenchman of Grand Pré. - -The old man considered carefully and consulted with his cousins. Neither -of them had ever heard of such a person. There were so many Acadiens, -they said, in an explanatory way, so many different bands, so many -scattering groups journeying homeward. But they would inquire. - -"Here comes Father La Croix," said Rose, softly; "will you not ask him -to help you?" - -"You are very kind to be so much interested in this search of mine," -said Vesper, in a low voice. - -Rose's lip trembled, and avoiding his glance, she kept her eyes fixed -steadily on the ex-colonel and present priest, who was expressing a -courteous hope that Vesper had obtained the information he wished. - -"Not yet," said Vesper, "though I am greatly indebted to these -gentlemen," and he turned to thank the old men. - -"I know of your mission," said Father La Croix, "and if you will favor -me with some details, perhaps I can help you." - -Vesper walked to and fro on the grass with him for some minutes, and -then watched him threading his way in and out among the groups of his -parishioners and their guests until at last he mounted the band-stand, -and extended his hand over the crowd. - -He did not utter a word, yet there was almost instantaneous silence. The -merry-go-round stopped, the dancers paused, and a hush fell on all -present. - -"My dear people," he said, "it rejoices me to see so many of you here -to-day, and to know that you are enjoying yourselves. Let us be thankful -to God for the fine weather. I am here to request you to do me a favor. -You all have old people in your homes,--you hear them talking of the -great expulsion. I wish you to ask these old ones whether they remember -a certain Etex LeNoir, called the Fiery Frenchman of Grand Pré. He, too, -was carried away, but never reached his destination, having died on the -ship _Confidence_, but his wife and child probably arrived in -Philadelphia. Find out, if you can, the fate of this widow and her -child,--whether they died in a foreign land, or whether she succeeded in -coming back to Acadie,--and bring the information to me." - -He descended the steps, and Vesper hastened to thank him warmly for his -interest. - -"It may result in nothing," said the priest, "yet there is an immense -amount of information stored up among the Acadiens on this Bay; I do not -at all despair of finding this family," and he took a kindly leave of -Vesper, after directing him where to find his mother. - -"But this is terrible," said Rose, trying to restrain the ardent -Narcisse, who was dragging her towards his beloved Englishman. "My -child, thy mother will be forced to whip thee." - -Vesper at that moment turned around, and his keen glance sought her out. -"Why do you struggle with him?" he asked, coming to meet them. - -"But I cannot have him tease you." - -"He does not tease me," and in quiet sympathy Vesper endeavored to -restore peace to her troubled mind. She, most beautiful flower of all -this show, and most deserving of joy and comfort, had been unhappy and -ill at ease ever since they entered the gates. The lingering, furtive -glances of several young Acadiens were unheeded by her. Her only thought -was to reach her home and be away from this bustle and excitement, and -it was his mother who had wrought this change in her; and in sharp -regret, Vesper surveyed the little lady, who, apparently in the most -amiable of moods, was sitting chatting to an Acadien matron to whom -Father La Croix had introduced her. - -A slight scuffle in a clump of green bushes beside them distracted his -attention from her. A pleading exclamation from a manly voice was -followed by an eloquent silence, a brisk sound like a slap, or a box on -the ears, and a laugh from a girl, with a threatening, "_Tu me paicras -ça_" (Thou shalt pay me for that). - -Vesper laughed too. There was something so irresistibly comical in the -man's second exclamation of dismayed surprise. - -"It is Perside," said Rose, wearily. "How can she be so gay, in so -public a place?" - -"Serves the blacksmith right, for trying to kiss her," said Vesper. - -"Perside," said Rose, rebukingly, and thrusting her head through the -verdant screen, "come and be presented to Mrs. Nimmo." - -Perside came forward. She was a laughing, piquant beauty, smaller and -more self-conscious than Rose. With admirable composure she dismissed -her blacksmith-_fiancé_, and followed her sister. - -Mrs. Nimmo had been receiving a flattering amount of attention, and was -holding quite a small court of Acadien women about her. Among them was -Rose's stepmother. Vesper had not met her before, and he gazed at her -calm, statuesque, almost severe profile, under the dark handkerchief. -Her hands, worn by honest toil, and folded in her lap, were unmistakable -signs of a long and hard struggle with poverty. Yet her smile was -gentleness and sweetness itself, when she returned Vesper's salutation. -A poor farm, many cares, many children,--he knew her history, for Rose -had told him of her mother's death during Perside's infancy, and the -great kindness of the young woman who had married their father and had -brought up not only his children, but also the motherless Agapit. - -With a filial courtesy that won the admiration of the Acadiens, among -whom respect for parents is earnestly inculcated, Vesper asked his -mother if she wished him to take her home. - -"If you are quite ready to leave," she replied, getting up and drawing -her wrap about her. - -The Acadien women uttered their regrets that madame should leave so -soon. But would she not come to visit them in their own homes? - -"You are very kind," she said, graciously, "but we leave -soon,--possibly in two days," and her inquiring eyes rested on her son, -who gravely inclined his head in assent. - -There was a chorus of farewells and requests that madame would, at some -future time, visit the Bay, and Mrs. Nimmo, bowing her acknowledgments, -and singling out Perside for a specially approving glance, took her -son's arm and was about to move away when he said, "If you do not -object, we will take the child with us. He is tired, and is wearing out -his mother." - -Mrs. Nimmo could afford to be magnanimous, as they were so soon to go -away, and might possibly shake off all connection with this place. -Therefore she favored the pale and suffering Rose with a compassionate -glance, and extended an inviting hand to the impetuous boy, who, -however, disdained it and ran to Vesper. - -"But why are they going?" cried Agapit, hurrying up to Rose, as she -stood gazing after the retreating Nimmos. "Did you tell them of the -fireworks, and the concert, and the French play; also that there would -be a moon to return by?" - -"Madame was weary." - -"Come thou then with me. I enjoy myself so much. My shirt is wet on my -back from the dancing. It is hot like a hay field--what, thou wilt not? -Rose, why art thou so dull to-day?" - -She tried to compose herself, to banish the heartrending look of sorrow -from her face, but she was not skilled in the art of concealing her -emotions, and the effort was a vain one. - -"Rose!" said her cousin, in sudden dismay. "Rose--Rose!" - -"What is the matter with thee?" she asked, alarmed in her turn by his -strange agitation. - -"Hush,--walk aside with me. Now tell me, what is this?" - -"Narcisse has been a trouble," began Rose, hurriedly; then she calmed -herself. "I will not deceive thee,--it is not Narcisse, though he has -worried me. Agapit, I wish to go home." - -"I will send thee; but be quiet, speak not above thy breath. Tell me, -has this Englishman--" - -"The Englishman has done nothing," said Rose, brokenly, "except that in -two days he goes back to the world." - -"And dost thou care? Stop, let me see thy face. Rose, thou art like a -sister to me. My poor one, my dear cousin, do not cry. Come, where is -thy dignity, thy pride? Remember that Acadien women do not give their -hearts; they must be begged." - -"I remember," she said, resolutely. "I will be strong. Fear not, Agapit, -and let us return. The women will be staring." - -She brushed her hand over her face, then by a determined effort of will -summoned back her lost composure, and with a firm, light step rejoined -the group that they had just left. - -"_Mon Dieu!_" muttered Agapit, "my pleasure is gone, and I was lately so -happy. I thought of this nightmare, and yet I did not imagine it would -come. I might have known,--he is so calm, so cool, so handsome. That -kind charms women and men too, for I also love him, yet I must give him -up. Rose, my sister, thou must not go home early. I must keep thee here -and suffer with thee, for, until the Englishman leaves, thou must be -kept from him as a little bunch of tow from a slow fire. Does he already -love thee? May the holy saints forbid--yes--no, I cannot tell. He is -inscrutable. If he does, I think it not. If he does not, I think it -so." - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - THE CAVE OF THE BEARS. - - "I had found out a sweet green spot, - Where a lily was blooming fair; - The din of the city disturbed it not; - But the spirit that shades the quiet cot - With its wings of love was there. - - "I found that lily's bloom - When the day was dark and chill; - It smiled like a star in a misty gloom, - And it sent abroad a sweet perfume, - Which is floating around me still." - - PERCIVAL. - - -More than twenty miles beyond Sleeping Water is a curious church built -of cobblestones. - -Many years ago, the devoted priest of this parish resolved that his -flock must have a new church, and yet how were they to obtain one -without money? He pondered over the problem for some time, and at last -he arrived at a satisfactory solution. Would his parishioners give time -and labor, if he supplied the material for construction? - -They would,--and he pointed to the stones on the beach. The Bay already -supplied them with meat and drink, they were now to obtain a place of -worship from it. They worked with a will, and in a short time their -church went up like the temple of old, without the aid of alien labor. - -Vesper, on the day after the picnic, had announced his intention of -visiting this church, and Agapit, in unconcealed disapproval and slight -vexation, stood watching him clean his wheel, preparatory to setting out -on the road down the Bay. - -He would be sure to overtake Rose, who had shortly before left the inn -with Narcisse. She had had a terrible scene with the child relative to -the approaching departure of the American, and Agapit himself had -advised her to take him to her stepmother. He wished now that he had not -done so, he wished that he could prevent Vesper from going after -her,--he almost wished that this quiet, imperturbable young man had -never come to the Bay. - -"And yet, why should I do that?" he reflected, penitently. "Does not -good come when one works from honest motives, though bad only is at -first apparent? Though we suffer now, we may yet be happy," and, casting -a long, reluctant look at the taciturn young American, he rose from his -comfortable seat and went up-stairs. He was tired, out of sorts, and -irresistibly sleepy, having been up all night examining the old -documents left by his uncle, the priest, in the hope of finding -something relating to the Fiery Frenchman, for he was now as anxious to -conclude Vesper's mission to the Bay as he had formerly been to prolong -it. - -With a quiet step he crept past the darkened room where Mrs. Nimmo, -after worrying her son by her insistence on doing her own packing, had -been obliged to retire, in a high state of irritation, and with a raging -headache. - -He hoped that the poor lady would be able to travel by the morrow; her -son would be, there was no doubt of that. How well and strong he seemed -now, how immeasurably he had gained in physical well-being since coming -to the Bay. - -"For that we should be thankful," said Agapit, in sincere admiration and -regard, as he stood by his window and watched Vesper spinning down the -road. - -"He goes so cool, so careless, like those soldiers who went to battle -with a rose between their lips, and I do not dare to warn, to question, -lest I bring on what I would keep back. But do thou, my cousin Rose, not -linger on the way. It would be better for thee to bite a piece from thy -little tongue than to have words with this handsome stranger whom I fear -thou lovest. Now to work again, and then, if there is time, half an -hour's sleep before supper, for my eyelids flag strangely." - -Agapit sat down before the table bestrewn with papers, while Vesper went -swiftly over the road until he reached the picnic ground of the day -before, now restored to its former quietness as a grazing place for -cows. Of all the cheerful show there was left only the big -merry-go-round, that was being packed in an enormous wagon drawn by four -pairs of oxen. - -"What are you going to do with it?" asked Vesper, springing off his -wheel, and addressing the Acadiens at work. - -"We take it to a parish farther down the Bay, where there is to be yet -another picnic," said one of them. - -"How much did they make yesterday?" pursued Vesper. - -"Six hundred dollars, and only four hundred the day before, and three -the first, for you remember those days were partly rainy." - -"And some people say that you Acadiens are poor." - -The man grinned. "There were many people here, many things. This wooden -darling," and he pointed to the dismembered merry-go-round, "earned one -dollar and twenty cents every five minutes. We need much for our -churches," and he jerked his thumb towards the red cathedral. "The -plaster falls, it must be restored. Do you go far, sir?" - -Vesper mentioned his destination. - -All the Acadiens on the Bay knew him and took a friendly interest in -his movements, and the man advised him to take in the Cave of the Bears, -that was also a show-place for strangers. "It is three miles farther, -where there is a bite in the shore, and the bluff is high. You will know -it by two yellow houses, like twins. Descend there, and you will see a -troop of ugly bears quite still about a cave. The Indians of this coast -say that their great man, Glooscap, in days before the French came, once -sat in the cave to rest. Some hungry bears came to eat him, but he -stretched out a pine-tree that he carried and they were turned to -stone." - -Vesper thanked him, and went on. When he reached the sudden and -picturesque cove in the Bay, his attention was caught, not so much by -its beauty, as by the presence of the inn pony, who neighed a joyful -welcome, and impatiently jerked back and forth the road-cart to which he -was attached. - -Vesper glanced sharply at the yellow houses. Perhaps Rose was making a -call in one of them. Then he stroked the pony, who playfully nipped his -coat sleeve, and, after propping his wheel against a stump, ran nimbly -down a grassy road, where a goat was soberly feeding among lobster-traps -and drawn-up boats. - -He crossed the strip of sand in the semicircular inlet, and there before -him were the bears,--ugly brown rocks with coats of slippery seaweed, -their grinning heads turned towards the mouth of a black cavern in the -lower part of the bluff, their staring eye-sockets fixed on the dainty -woman's figure inside, as if they would fain devour her. - -Rose sat with her face to the sea, her head against the damp rock -wall,--her whole attitude one of abandonment and mournful despair. - -Vesper began to hurry towards her, but, catching sight of Narcisse, he -stopped. - -The child, with a face convulsed and tear-stained, was angrily seizing -stones from the beach to fling them against the most lifelike bear of -all,--a grotesque, hideous creature, that appeared to be shouldering his -way from the water in order to plunge into the cave. - -"Dost thou mock me?" exclaimed Narcisse, furiously. "I will strike thee -yet again, thou hateful thing. Thou shalt not come on shore to eat my -mother and the Englishman," and he dashed a yet larger stone against it. - -"Narcisse," said Vesper. - -The child turned quickly. Then his trouble was forgotten, and stumbling -and slipping over the seaweed, but at last attaining his goal, he flung -his small unhappy self against Vesper's breast. "I love you, I love -you,--_gros comme la grange à Pinot_" (as much as Pinot's barn),--"yet -my mother carried me away. Take me with you, Mr. Englishman. Narcisse is -very sick without you." - -In maternal alarm Rose sprang up at her child's first shriek. Then she -sank back, pale and confused, for Vesper's eye was upon her, although -apparently he was engaged only in fondling the little curly head, and in -allowing the child to stroke his face and dive into his pockets, to pull -out his watch, and indulge in the fond and foolish familiarities -permitted to a child by a loving father. - -"Go to her, Narcisse," said Vesper, presently, and the small boy ran -into the cave. "My mother, my mother!" he cried, in an ecstasy; and he -wagged his curly head as if he would shake it from his body. "The -Englishman returns to you and to me,--he will stay away only a short -time. Come, get up, get up. Let us go back to the inn. I am to go no -more to my grandmother. Is it not so?" and he anxiously gazed at Vesper, -who was slowly approaching. - -Vesper did not speak, neither did Rose. What was the matter with these -grown people that they stared so stupidly at each other? - -"Have you a headache, Mr. Englishman?" he asked, with abrupt childish -anxiety, as he noticed a sudden and unusual wave of color sweeping over -his friend's face. "And you, my mother,--why do you hang your head? Give -only the Englishman your hand and he will lift you from the rock. He is -strong, very strong,--he carries me over the rough places." - -"Will you give me your hand, Rose?" - -She started back, with a heart-broken gesture. - -"But you are imbecile, my darling mother!" cried Narcisse, throwing -himself on her in terror. "The Englishman will become angry,--he will -leave us. Give him your hand, and let us go from this place," and, -resolutely seizing her fluttering fingers in his own soft ones, he -directed them to Vesper's strong, true clasp. - -"Go stone the bears again, Narcisse," said the young man, with a strange -quiver in his voice. "I will talk to your mother about going back to the -inn. See, she is not well;" for Rose had bowed her weary head on her -arm. - -"Yes, talk to her," said the child, "that is good, and, above all, do -not let her hand go. She runs from me sometimes, the little naughty -mother," and, with affected roguishness that, however, concealed a -certain anxiety, he put his head on one side, and stared affectionately -at her as he left the cave. - -He had gone some distance, and Vesper had already whispered a few words -in Rose's ear, when he returned and stared again at them. "Will you tell -me only one little story, Mr. Englishman?" - -"About what, you small bother?" - -"About bears, big brown bears, not gentle trees." - -"There was once a sick bear," said the young man, "and he went all about -the world, but could not get well until he found a quiet spot, where a -gentle lady cured him." - -"And then--" - -"The lady had a cub," said Vesper, suddenly catching him in his arms and -taking him out to the strip of sand, "a fascinating cub that the bear--I -mean the man--adored." - -Narcisse laughed gleefully, snatched Vesper's cap and set off with it, -fell into a pool of water and was rescued, and set to the task of taking -off his shoes and stockings and drying them in the sun, while Vesper -went back to Rose, who still sat like a person in acute distress of body -and mind. - -"I was sudden,--I startled you," he murmured. - -She made a dissenting gesture, but did not speak. - -"Will you look at me, Rose?" he said, softly; "just once." - -"But I am afraid," fluttered from her pale lips. "When I gaze into your -eyes it is hard--" - -He stood over her in such quiet, breathless sympathy that presently she -looked up, thinking he was gone. - -His glance caught and held hers. She got up, allowed him to take her -hands and press them to his lips, and to place on her head the hat that -had fallen to the ground. - -"I will say nothing more now," he murmured, "you are shocked and upset. -We had better go home." - -"Come and be presented to Mrs. Nimmo," suddenly said a saucy, laughing -voice. - -Rose started nervously. Her sister Perside had caught sight of -them,--teasing, yet considerate Perside, since she had bestowed only one -glance on the lovers, and had then gone sauntering past the mouth of the -cave, out to the wide array of black rocks beyond them. She carried a -hooked stick over her shoulder, and a tin pail in her hand, and -sometimes she looked back at a second girl, similarly equipped, who was -running down the grassy road after her. - -Nothing could have made Rose more quickly recover herself. "It is not -the time of perigee,--you will find nothing," she called after Perside; -then she added to Vesper, in a low, shy voice, "She seeks lobsters. She -danced so much at the picnic that she was too tired to go home, and had -to stay here with cousins." - -"Times and seasons do not matter for some things," returned Perside, -gaily, over her shoulder; "one has the fun." - -Narcisse stopped digging his bare toes in the sand and shrieked, -delightedly, "Aunt Perside, aunt Perside, do you know the Englishman -returns to my mother and me? He will never leave us, and I am not to go -to my grandmother." Then, fearful that his assertions had been too -strong, he averted his gaze from the two approaching people, and fixed -it on the blazing sun. - -"Will you promise not to make a scene when I leave to-morrow?" said -Vesper. - -Narcisse blinked at him, his eyes full of spots and wheels and revolving -lights. He was silly with joy, and gurgled deep down in his little -throat. "Let me kiss your hand, as you kissed my mother's. It is a -pretty sight." - -"Will you be a good boy when I leave to-morrow," said Vesper again. - -"But why should I cry if you return?" cried the child, excitedly -flinging a handful of sand at his boots. "Narcisse will never again be -bad," and rolling over and over, and kicking his pink heels in glee, he -forced Vesper and Rose to retire to a respectful distance. - -They stood watching him for some time, and, as they watched, Rose's -tortured face grew calm, and a spark of the divine passion animating her -lover's face came into her deep blue eyes. She had no right to break the -tender, sensitive little heart given so strangely to this stranger. She -would forget Agapit and his warnings; she would forget the proud women -of her race, who would not wed a stranger, and one of another creed; she -would also forget the nervous, jealous mother who would keep her son -from all women. - -"You have asked me for myself," she said, impulsively stretching out her -hands to him, "for myself and my child. We are yours." - -Vesper bent down, and pressed her cool fingers against his burning -cheeks. She smiled at him, even laughed gleefully, and passed her hands -over his head in a playful caress; then, with her former expression of -exaltation and virginal modesty and shyness, she ran up the grassy road, -and paused at the top to look back at him, as he toiled up with -Narcisse. - -She was vivacious and merry now,--he had never seen her just so before. -In an instant,--a breath,--with her surrender to him, she had seemed to -drop her load of care, that usually made her youthful face so grave and -sweet beyond her years. He would like to see her cheerful and -laughing--thoughtless even; and murmuring endearing epithets under his -breath, he assisted her into the cart, placed the reins in her hands, -tucked Narcisse in by her side, and, surreptitiously lifting a fold of -her dress to his face, murmured, "_Au revoir_, my sweet saint." - -Then, stroking his mustache to conceal from the yellow houses his proud -smile of ownership, he watched the upright pose of the light head, and -the contorted appearance of the dark one that was twisted over a little -shoulder as long as the cart was in sight. - -He forgot all about the church, and, going back to the beach, he lay for -a long time sunning himself on the sand, and plunged in a delicious -reverie. Then, mounting his wheel, he returned to the inn. - -Agapit was running excitedly to and fro on the veranda. "Come, make -haste," he cried, as he caught sight of him in the distance. "Extremely -strange things have happened--Let me assist you with that wheel,--a -malediction on it, these bicycles go always where one does not expect. -There is news of the Fiery Frenchman. I found something, also Father La -Croix." - -"This is interesting," said Vesper, good-naturedly, as he folded his -arms, and lounged against one of the veranda posts. - -"I was delving among my uncle's papers. I had precipitately come on the -name of LeNoir,--Etex, the son of Raphael, who was a wealthy _bourgeois_ -of Calais, and emigrated to Grand Pré. He was dead when the expulsion -came, and of his two sons one, Gabriel LeNoir, escaped up the St. John -River, and that Gabriel was my ancestor, and that of Rose; therefore, -most astonishingly to me, we are related to this family whom you have -sought," and Agapit wound up with a flourish of his hands and his heels. - -"I am glad of this," said Vesper, in a deeply gratified voice. - -"But more remains. I was shouting over my discovery, when Father La -Croix came. I ran, I descended,--the good man presented his compliments -to madame and you. Several of his people went to him this morning. They -had questioned the old ones. He wrote what they said, and here it is. -See--the son of the murdered Etex was Samson. His mother landed in -Philadelphia. In griping poverty the boy grew up. He went to Boston. He -joined the Acadiens who marched the five hundred miles through the woods -to Acadie. He arrived at the Baie Chaleur, where he married a Comeau. He -had many children, but his eldest, Jean, is he in whom you will interest -yourself, as in the direct line." - -"And what of Jean?" asked Vesper, when Agapit stopped to catch his -breath. - -Agapit pointed to the Bay. "He lies over Digby Neck, in the Bay of -Fundy, but his only child is on this Bay." - -"A boy or a girl?" - -"A devil," cried Agapit, in a burst of grief, "a little devil." - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - FOR THE HONOR OF THEIR RACE. - - "Love is the perfect sum - Of all delight! - I have no other choice - Either for pen or voice - To sing or write." - - -"Why is the descendant of the Fiery Frenchman a devil?" asked Vesper. - -"Because she has no heart. They have taken from her her race, her -religion. Her mother, who had some Indian blood, was also wild. She -would not sweep her kitchen floor. She went to sea with her husband, and -when she was drowned with him, her sister, who is also gay, took the -child." - -"What do you mean by gay?" - -"I mean like hawks. They go here and there,--they love the woods. They -do not keep neat houses, and yet they are full of strange ambitions. -They change their names. They are not so much like the English as we -are, yet they pretend to have no French blood. Sometimes I visit them, -for the uncle of the child--Claude à Sucre--is worthy, but his wife I -detestate. She has no bones of purpose; she is like a flabby sunfish." - -"Where do they live?" - -"Up the Bay,--near Bleury." - -"And do you think there is nothing I can do for this little renegade?" - -"Nothing?" cried Agapit. "You can do everything. It is the opportunity -of your life. You so wise, so generous, so understanding the Acadiens. -You have in your power to make born again the whole family through the -child. They are superstitious. They will respect the claim of the dead. -Come to the garden to talk, for there are strangers approaching." - -Vesper shivered. He was not altogether happy over the discovery of the -lost link connecting him with the far-back tragedy in which his -great-grandfather had been involved. However, he suppressed all signs of -emotion, and, following Agapit to the lawn, he walked to and fro, -listening attentively to the explanations and information showered upon -him. When Rose came to the door to ring the supper-bell, both young men -paused. She thought they had been speaking of her, and blushed divinely. - -Agapit, with an alarmed expression, turned to his companion, who smiled -quietly, and was just about to address him, when a lad came running up -to them. - -"Agapit, come quickly,--old miser Lefroy is dying, and would make his -will. He calls for thee." - -"Return,--say that I will come," exclaimed Agapit, waving his hand; then -he looked at Vesper. "One word only, why does Rose look so strangely?" - -"Rose has promised to be my wife." - -Agapit groaned, flung himself away a few steps, then came back. "Say no -more to her till you see me. How could you--and yet you do her honor. I -cannot blame you," and with a farewell glance, in which there was a -curious blending of despair and gratified pride, he ran after the boy. - -Vesper went up-stairs to his mother, who announced herself no better, -and begged only that she might not be disturbed. He accordingly -descended to the dining-room and took his place at the table. - -Rose was quietly moving to and fro with a heightened color. She was glad -that Agapit was away,--it was more agreeable to her to have only one -lord and master present; yet, sensitively alive to the idiosyncrasies of -this new one, she feared that he was disapproving of her unusual number -of guests. - -He, however, nobly suppressed his disapproval, and even talked -pleasantly of recent political happenings in his own country with some -travelling agents who happened to be some of his own fellow citizens. - -"Ah, it is a wonderful thing, this love," she said to herself, as she -went to the kitchen for a fresh supply of coffee; "it makes one more -anxious to please, and to think less of oneself. Mr. Nimmo wishes to aid -me,--and yet, though he is so kind, he slightly wrinkles his beautiful -eyebrows when I place dishes on the table. He does not like me to serve. -He would have me sit by him; some day I shall do so;" and, overcome by -the confused bliss of the thought, she retired behind the pantry door, -where the curious Célina found her with her face buried in her hands, -and in quick, feminine intuition at once guessed her secret. - -There were many dishes to wash after supper, and Vesper, who was keeping -an eye on the kitchen, inwardly applauded Célina, who, instead of -running to the door as she usually did to exchange pleasantries with -waiting friends and admirers, accomplished her tasks with surprising -celerity. In the brief space of three-quarters of an hour she was ready -to go out, and after donning a fresh blouse and a clean apron, and -coquettishly tying a handkerchief on her head, she went to the lawn, -where she would play croquet and gossip with her friends until the stars -came out. - -Vesper left the smokers on the veranda and the chattering women in the -parlor, and sauntered through the quiet dining-room and kitchen. Rose -was nowhere in sight, but her pet kitten, that followed her from morning -till night, was mewing at the door of a small room used as a laundry. - -Vesper cautiously looked in. The supple young back of his sweetheart was -bent over a wash-tub. "Rose," he exclaimed, "what are you doing?" - -She turned a blushing face over her shoulder. "Only a little washing--a -very little. The washerwoman forgot." - -Vesper walked around the tub. - -"It was such a pleasure," she stammered. "I did not know that you would -wish to talk to me till perhaps later on." - -Her slender hands gripped a white garment affectionately, and partly -lifted it from the soap-suds. Vesper, peering in the tub, discovered -that it was one of the white jerseys that he wore bicycling, and, gently -taking it from her, he dropped it out of sight in the foam. - -"But it is of wool,--it will shrink," she said, anxiously. - -He laughed, dried her white arms on his handkerchief, and begged her to -sit down on a bench beside him. - -She shyly drew back and, pulling down her sleeves, seated herself on a -stool opposite. - -"Rose," he said, seriously, "do you know how to flirt?" - -Her beautiful lips parted, and she laughed in a gleeful, wholehearted -way that reminded him of Narcisse. "I think that it would be possible to -learn," she said, demurely. - -Vesper did not offer to teach her. He fell into an intoxicated silence, -and sat musing on this, the purest and sweetest passion of his life. -What had she done--this simple Acadien woman--to fill his heart with -such profound happiness? A light from the window behind her shone around -her flaxen head, and reminded him of the luminous halos surrounding the -heads of her favorite saints. Since the ecstatic dreams of boyhood he -had experienced nothing like this,--and yet this dream was more -extended, more spiritual and less earthly than those, for infinite -worlds of happiness now unfolded themselves to his vision, and endless -possibilities and responsibilities stretched out before him. This -woman's life would be given fearlessly into his hands, and also the life -of her child. He, Vesper Nimmo, almost a broken link in humanity's -chain, would become once more a part in the glorious whole. - -Rose, enraptured with this intellectual love-making, sat watching every -varying emotion playing over her lover's face. How different he was from -Charlitte,--ah, poor Charlitte!--and she shuddered. He was so rough, so -careless. He had been like a good-natured bear that wished a plaything. -He had not loved her as gently, as tenderly as this man did. - -"Rose," asked Vesper, suddenly, "what is the matter with Agapit?" - -"I do not know," she said, and her face grew troubled. "Perhaps he is -angry that I have told a story, for I said I would not marry." - -"Why should he not wish you to marry?" - -Again she said that she did not know. - -"Will you marry me in six weeks?" - -"I will marry when you wish," she replied, with dignity, "yet I beg you -to think well of it. My little boy is in his bed, and when I no longer -see him, I doubt. There are so few things that I know. If I go to your -dear country, that you love so much, you may drop your head in -shame,--notwithstanding what you have said, I give you up if you wish." - -"Womanlike, you must inject a drop of bitterness into the only full cup -of happiness ever lifted to your lips. Let us suppose, however, that you -are right. My people are certainly not as your people. Shall we part -now,--shall I go away to-morrow, and never see you again?" - -Rose stared blindly at him. - -"Are you willing for me to go?" he asked, quietly. - -His motive in suggesting the parting was the not unworthy one of a lover -who longs for an open expression of affection from one dear to him, yet -he was shocked at the signs of Rose's suppressed passion and -inarticulate terror. She did not start from her seat, she did not throw -herself in his inviting arms, and beg him to stay with her. No; the -terrified blue eyes were lowered meekly to the floor, and, in scarcely -audible accents, she murmured, "What seems right to you must be done." - -"Rose,--I shall never leave you." - -"I feel that I have reached up to heaven, and plucked out a very bright -star," she stammered, with white lips, "and yet here it is," and trying -to conceal her agony, she opened her clenched and quivering hand, as if -to restore something to him. - -He went down on his knees before her. "You are a princess among your -people, Rose. Keep the star,--it is but a poor ornament for you," and -seizing her suffering hands, he clasped them to his breast. "Listen, -till I tell you my reasons for not leaving the woman who has given me my -life and inspired me with hope for the future." - -Rose listened, and grew pale at his eloquent words, and still more -eloquent pauses. - -After some time, a gentle, melancholy smile came creeping to her face; a -smile that seemed to reflect past suffering rather than present joy. "It -is like pain," she said, and she timidly laid a finger on his dark head, -"this great joy. I have had so many terrors,--I have loved you so long, -I find, and I thought you would die." - -Vesper felt that his veins had been filled with some glowing elixir of -earthly and heavenly delight. How adorable she was,--how unique, with -her modesty, her shyness, her restrained eagerness. Surely he had found -the one peerless woman in the world. - -"Talk to me more about yourself and your feelings," he entreated. - -"I have longed to tell you," she murmured, "that you have taught me what -it is,--this love; and also that one does not make it, for it is life or -death, and therefore can only come from the Lord. When you speak, your -words are so agreeable that they are like rain on dusty ground. I feel -that you are quite admirable," and, interrupting herself, she bent over -to gently kiss his cheek as he still knelt before her. - -"Continue, Rose," he said, shutting his eyes in an ecstasy. - -"I speak freely," she said, "because I feel that I can trust you without -fear, and always, always love and serve you till you are quite, quite -old. I also understand you. Formerly I did not. You say that I am like a -princess. Ah, not so much as you. You are altogether like a prince. You -had the air of being contented; I did not know your thoughts. Now I can -look into your beautiful white soul. You hide nothing from me. No, do -not put your face down. You are a very, very good man. I do not think -that there can be any one so good." - -Vesper looked up, and laid a finger across the sweet, praising mouth. - -"Let us talk of your mother," said Rose. "Since I love you, I love her -more; but she does not like me equally." - -"But she will, my ingenuous darling. I have talked to her twice. She is -quite reconciled, but it will take time for her to act a mother's part. -You will have patience?" - -Rose wrinkled her delicate brows. "I put myself in her place,--ah, how -hard for her! Let me fancy you my son. How could I give you up? And yet -it would be wrong for her to take you from one who can make you more -happy; is it not so?" - -Vesper sprang to his feet. "Yes, Rose; it is you and I against the -world,--one heart, one soul; it is wonderful, and a great mystery," and -clasping his hands behind him, he walked to and fro along the narrow -room. - -Rose, with a transfigured face, watched him, and hung on every word -falling from his lips, as he spoke of his plans for the future, his -disappointed hopes and broken aspirations of the past. It did not occur -to either of them, so absorbed were they with each other, to glance at -the small window overlooking the dooryard, where an eager face came and -went at intervals. - -Sometimes the face was angry; sometimes sorrowful. Sometimes a clenched -fist was raised between it and the glass as if at an imaginary enemy. -The unfortunate watcher, in great perplexity of mind, was going through -every gesture in the pantomime of distress. - -The lovers, unmindful of him, continued their conversation, and the -suffering Agapit continued to suffer. - -Vesper talked and walked on, occasionally stopping to listen to a remark -from Rose, or to bend over her in an adoring, respectful attitude while -he bestowed a caress or received a shy and affectionate one from her. - -"It is sinful,--I should interrupt," groaned Agapit, "yet it would be -cruel. They are in paradise. Ah, dear blessed Virgin,--mother of -suffering hearts,--have pity on them, for they are both noble, both -good;" and he dashed his hand across his eyes to hide the sight of the -beautiful head held as tenderly between the hands of the handsome -stranger as if it were indeed a fragile, full-blown rose. - -"They take leave," he muttered; "I will look no more,--it is a -sacrilege," and he rushed into the house by another door. - -The croquet players called to him from the lawn. He could hear the click -of the balls and the merry voices as he passed, but he paid no heed to -them. Only in the dining-room did he stay his hasty steps. There, in -front of the picture of Rose's husband, he paused with uplifted arm. - -"Scoundrel!" he muttered, furiously; then striking his fist through the -glass, he shattered the portrait, from the small twinkling eyes to its -good-natured, sensuous mouth. - - - - - CHAPTER XVII. - - THE SUBLIMEST THING IN THE WORLD. - - "Ah, tragedy of lusty life! How oft - Some high emprise a soul divinely grips, - But as it crests, fate's undertow despoils!" - - THEODORE H. RAND. - - -Mrs. Nimmo was better the next morning, and, rising betimes, gave her -son an early audience in her room. - -"You need not tell me anything," she said, with a searching glance at -him. "It is all arranged between you and the Acadien woman. I know,--you -cannot stave off these things. I will be good, Vesper, only give me -time,--give me time, and let us have no explanations. You can tell her -that you have not spoken to me, and she will not expect me to gush." - -Her voice died away in a pitiful quaver, and Vesper quietly, but with -intense affection, kissed the cold cheek she offered him. - -"Go away," she said, pushing him from her, "or I shall break down, and I -want my strength for the journey." - -Vesper went down-stairs, his eyes running before him for the sweet -presence of Rose. She was not in the dining-room, and with suppressed -disappointment he looked curiously at Célina, who was red-eyed and -doleful, and requested her to take his mother's breakfast up-stairs. -Then, with a disagreeable premonition of trouble, he turned his -attention to Agapit, whose face had turned a sickly yellow and who was -toying abstractedly with his food. He appeared to be ill, and, refusing -to talk, waited silently for Vesper to finish his breakfast. - -"Will you come to the smoking-room?" he then said; and being answered by -a silent nod, he preceded Vesper to that room and carefully closed the -door. - -"Now give me your hand," he said, tragically, "for I am going to make -you angry, and perhaps you will never again clasp mine in friendship." - -"Get out," said Vesper, peevishly. "I detest melodrama,--and say quickly -what you have to say. We have only an hour before the train leaves." - -"My speech can be made in a short time," said Agapit, solemnly. "Your -farewell of Sleeping Water to-day must be eternal." - -"Don't be a fool, Agapit, but go look for a rope for my mother's trunk; -she has lost the straps." - -"If I found a rope it would be to hang myself," said Agapit, -desperately. "Never was I so unhappy, never, never." - -"What is wrong with you?" - -"I am desolated over your engagement to my cousin. We thank you for the -honor, but we decline it." - -"Indeed! as the engagement does not include you, I must own that I will -take my dismissal only from your cousin." - -"Look at me,--do I seem like one in play? God knows I do not wish to -torment you. All night I walked my floor, and Rose,--unhappy Rose! I -shudder when I think how she passed the black hours after my cruel -revealings." - -"What have you said to Rose?" asked Vesper, in a fury. "You forget that -she now belongs to me." - -"She belongs to no one but our Lord," said Agapit, in an agony. "You -cannot have her, though the thought makes my heart bleed for you." - -Vesper's face flushed. "If you will let it stop bleeding long enough to -be coherent, I shall be obliged to you." - -"Oh, do not be angry with me,--let me tell you now that I love you for -your kindness to my people. You came among us,--you, an Englishman. You -did not despise us. You offer my cousin your hand, and it breaks our -hearts to refuse it, but she cannot marry you. She sends you that -message,--'You must go away and forget me. Marry another woman if you so -care. I must give you up.' These are her words as she stood pale and -cold." - -Vesper seated himself on the edge of the big table in the centre of the -room. Very deliberately he took out his watch and laid it beside him. So -intense was the stillness of the room, so nervously sensitive and -unstrung was Agapit by his night's vigil, that he started at the -rattling of the chain on the polished surface. - -"I give you five minutes," said Vesper, "to explain your attitude -towards your cousin, on the subject of her marriage. As I understand the -matter, you were an orphan brought up by her father. Of late years you -arrogate the place of a brother. Your decisions are supreme. You -announce now that she is not to marry. You have some little knowledge of -me. Do you fancy that I will be put off by any of your trumpery -fancies?" - -"No, no," said Agapit, wildly. "I know you better,--you have a will of -steel. But can you not trust me? I say an impediment exists. It is like -a mountain. You cannot get over it, you cannot get around it; it would -pain you to know, and I cannot tell it. Go quietly away therefore." - -Vesper was excessively angry. With his love for Rose had grown a certain -jealousy of Agapit, whose influence over her had been unbounded. Yet he -controlled himself, and said, coldly, "There are other ways of getting -past a mountain." - -"By flying?" said Agapit, eagerly. - -"No,--tunnelling. Tell me now how long this obstacle has existed?" - -"It would be more agreeable to me not to answer questions." - -"I daresay, but I shall stay here until you do." - -"Then, it is one year," said Agapit, reluctantly. - -"It has, therefore, not arisen since I came?" - -"Oh, no, a thousand times no." - -"It is a question of religion?" - -"No, it is not," said Agapit, indignantly; "we are not in the Middle -Ages." - -"It seems to me that we are; does Rose's priest know?" - -"Yes, but not through her." - -"Through you,--at confession?" - -"Yes, but he would die rather than break the seal of confession." - -"Of course. Does any one here but you know?" - -"Oh, no, no; only myself, and Rose's uncle, and one other." - -"It has something to do with her first marriage," said Vesper, sharply. -"Did she promise her husband not to marry again?" - -Agapit would not answer him. - -"You are putting me off with some silly bugbear," said Vesper, -contemptuously. - -"A bugbear! holy mother of angels, it is a question of the honor of our -race. But for that, I would tell you." - -"You do not wish her to marry me because I am an American." - -"I would be proud to have her marry an American," said Agapit, -vehemently. - -"I shall not waste more time on you," said Vesper, disdainfully. "Rose -will explain." - -"You must not go to her," said Agapit, blocking his way. "She is in a -strange state. I fear for her reason." - -"You do," muttered Vesper, "and you try to keep me from her?" - -Agapit stood obstinately pressing his back against the door. - -"You want her for yourself," said Vesper, suddenly striking him a smart -blow across the face. - -The Acadien sprang forward, his burly frame trembled, his hot breath -enveloped Vesper's face as he stood angrily regarding him. Then he -turned on his heel, and pressed his handkerchief to his bleeding lips. - -"I will not strike you," he mumbled, "for you do not understand. I, too, -have loved and been unhappy." - -The glance that he threw over his shoulder was so humble, so forgiving, -that Vesper's heart was touched. - -"I ask your pardon, Agapit,--you have worried me out of my senses," and -he warmly clasped the hand that the Acadien extended to him. - -"Come," said Agapit, with an adorable smile. "Follow me. You have a -generous heart. You shall see your Rose." - -Agapit knocked softly at his cousin's door, then, on receiving -permission, entered with a reverent step. - -Vesper had never been in this little white chamber before. One -comprehensive glance he bestowed on it, then his eyes came back to Rose, -who had, he knew without being told, spent the whole night on her knees -before the niche in the wall, where stood a pale statuette of the -Virgin. - -This was a Rose he did not know, and one whose frozen beauty struck a -deadly chill to his heart. He had lost her,--he knew it before she -opened her lips. She seemed not older, but younger. The look on her face -he had seen on the faces of dead children; the blood had been frightened -from her very lips. What was it that had given her this deadly shock? He -was more than ever determined to know, and, subduing every emotion but -that of stern curiosity, he stood expectant. - -"You insisted on an adieu," she murmured, painfully. - -"I am coming back in a week," said Vesper, stubbornly. - -The hand that held her prayer-book trembled. "You have told him that he -must not return?" and she turned to Agapit, and lifted her flaxen -eyebrows, that seemed almost dark against the unearthly pallor of her -skin. - -"Yes," he said, with a gusty sigh. "I have told him, but he does not -heed me." - -"It is for the honor of our race," she said to Vesper. - -"Rose," he said, keenly, "do you think I will give you up?" - -Her white lips quivered. "You must go; it is wrong for me even to see -you." - -Vesper stared at Agapit, and seeing that he was determined not to leave -the room, he turned his back squarely on him. "Rose," he said, in a low -voice, "Rose." - -The saint died in her, the woman awoke. Little by little the color crept -back to her face. Her ears, her lips, her cheeks, and brow were suffused -with the faint, delicate hue of the flower whose name she bore. - -A passionate light sprang into her blue eyes. "Agapit," she murmured, -"Agapit," yet her glance did not leave Vesper's face, "can we not tell -him?" - -[Illustration: "'AGAPIT,' SHE MURMURED, 'CAN WE NOT TELL HIM?'"] - -"Shall we be unfaithful to our race?" said her cousin, inexorably. - -"What is our race?" she asked, wildly. "There are the Acadiens, there -are also the Americans,--the one Lord makes all. Agapit, permit that we -tell him." - -"Think of your oath, Rose." - -"My oath--my oath--and did I not also swear to love him? I told him only -yesterday, and now I must give him up forever, and cause him pain. -Agapit, you shall tell him. He must not go away angry. Ah, my cousin, my -cousin," and, evading Vesper, she stretched out the prayer-book, "by our -holy religion, I beg that you have pity. Tell him, tell him,--I shall -never see him again. It will kill me if he goes angry from me." - -There were tears of agony in her eyes, and Agapit faltered as he -surveyed her. - -"We are to be alone here all the years," she said, "you and I. It will -be a sin even to think of the past. Let us have no thought to start with -as sad as this, that we let one so dear go out in the world blaming us." - -"Well, then," said Agapit, sullenly, "I surrender. Tell you this -stranger; let him have part in an unusual shame of our people." - -"I tell him!" and she drew back, hurt and startled. "No, Agapit, that -confession comes better from thee. Adieu, adieu," and she turned, in a -paroxysm of tenderness, to Vesper, and in her anguish burst into her -native language. "After this minute, I must put thee far from my -thoughts,--thou, so good, so kind, that I had hoped to walk with -through life. But purgatory does not last forever; the blessed saints -also suffered. After we die, perhaps--" and she buried her face in her -hands, and wept violently. - -"But do not thou remember," she said at last, checking her tears. "Go -out into the world and find another, better wife. I release thee, go, -go--" - -Vesper said nothing, but he gave Agapit a terrible glance, and that -young man, although biting his lip and scowling fiercely, discreetly -stepped into the hall. - -For half a minute Rose lay unresistingly in Vesper's arms, then she -gently forced him from the room, and with a low and bitter cry, "For -this I must atone," she opened her prayer-book, and again dropped on her -knees. - -Once more the two young men found themselves in the smoking-room. - -"Now, what is it?" asked Vesper, sternly. - -Agapit hung his head. In accents of deepest shame he murmured, -"Charlitte yet lives." - -"Charlitte--what, Rose's husband?" - -A miserable nod from Agapit answered his question. - -"It is rumor," stammered Vesper; "it cannot be. You said that he was -dead." - -"He has been seen,--the miserable man lives with another woman." - -Vesper had received the worst blow of his life, yet his black eyes fixed -themselves steadily on Agapit's face. "What proof have you?" - -Agapit stumbled through some brief sentences. "An Acadien--Michel -Amireau--came home to die. He was a sailor. He had seen Charlitte in New -Orleans. He had changed his name, yet Michel knew him, and went to the -uncle of Rose, on the Bayou Vermilion. The uncle promised to watch him. -That is why he is so kind to Rose, this good uncle, and sends her so -much. But Charlitte goes no more to sea, but lives with this woman. He -is happy; such a devil should die." - -Vesper was stunned and bewildered, yet his mind had never worked more -clearly. "Does any other person know?" he asked, sharply. - -"No one; Michel would not tell, and he is dead." - -Vesper leaned on a chair-back, and convulsively clasped his fingers -until every drop of blood seemed to have left them. "Why did he leave -Rose?" - -"Who can tell?" said Agapit, drearily. "Rose is beautiful; this other -woman unbeautiful and older, much older. But Charlitte was always gross -like a pig,--but good-natured. Rose was too fine, too spiritual. She -smiled at him, she did not drink, nor dance, nor laugh loudly. These are -the women he likes." - -"How old is he?" - -"Not old,--fifty, perhaps. If our Lord would only let him die! But those -men live forever. He is strong, very strong." - -"Would Rose consent to a divorce?" - -"A divorce! _Mon Dieu_, she is a good Catholic." - -Vesper sank into a chair and dropped his head on his hand. Hot, -rebellious thoughts leaped into his heart. Yesterday he had been so -happy; to-day-- - -"My friend," said Agapit, softly, "do not give way." - -His words stung Vesper as if they had been an insult. - -"I am not giving way," he said, fiercely. "I am trying to find a way out -of this diabolical scrape." - -"But surely there is only one road to follow." - -Vesper said nothing, but his eyes were blazing, and Agapit recoiled from -him with a look of terror. - -"You surely would not influence one who loves you to do anything wrong?" - -"Rose is mine," said Vesper, grimly. - -"But she is married to Charlitte." - -"To a dastardly villain,--she must separate from him." - -"But she cannot." - -"She will if I ask her," and Vesper started up, as if he were about to -seek her. - -"Stop but an instant," and Agapit pressed both hands to his forehead -with a gesture of bewilderment. "Let me say over some things first to -you. Think of what you have done here,--you, so quiet, so strong,--so -pretending not to be good, and yet very good. You have led Rose as a -grown one leads a child. Before you came I did not revere her as I do at -present. She is now so careful, she will not speak even the least of -untruths; she wishes to improve herself,--to be more fitted for the -company of the blessed in heaven." - -Vesper made some inarticulate sound in his throat, and Agapit went on -hurriedly. "Women are weak, men are imperious; she may, perhaps, do -anything you say, but is it not well to think over exactly what one -would tell her? She is in trouble now, but soon she will recover and -look about her. She will see all the world equally so. There are good -priests with sore hearts, also holy women, but they serve God. All the -world cannot marry. Marriage, what is it?--a little living together,--a -separation. There is also a holy union of hearts. We can live for God, -you, and I, and Rose, but for a time is it not best that we do not see -each other?" - -Again Vesper did not reply except by a convulsive movement of his -shoulders, and an impatient drumming on the table with his fingers. - -"Dear young man, whom I so much admire," said Agapit, leaning across -towards him, "I have confidence in you. You, who think so much of the -honor of your race,--you who shielded the name of your ancestor lest -dishonor should come on it, I trust you fully. You will, some day when -it seems good to you, find out this child who has cast off her race; and -now go,--the door is open, seek Rose if you will. You will say nothing -unworthy to her. You know love, the greatest of things, but you also -know duty, the sublimest." - -His voice died away, and Vesper still preserved a dogged silence. At -last, however, his struggle with himself was over, and in a harsh, rough -voice, utterly unlike his usual one, he looked up and said, "Have we -time to catch the train?" - -"By driving fast," said Agapit, mildly, "we may. Possibly the train is -late also." - -"Make haste then," said Vesper, and he hurried to his mother, whose -voice he heard in the hall. - -Agapit fairly ran to the stable, and as he ran he muttered, "We are all -very young,--the old ones say that trouble cuts into the hearts of -youth. Let us pray our Lord for old age." - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII. - - NARCISSE GOES IN SEARCH OF THE ENGLISHMAN. - - "L'homme s'agite, Dieu le mène." - - -Mrs. Nimmo was a very unhappy woman. She had never before had a trouble -equal to this trouble, and, as she sat at the long window in the bedroom -of her absent son, she drearily felt that it was eating the heart and -spirit out of her. - -Vesper was away, and she had refused to share his unhappy wanderings, -for she knew that he did not wish her to do so. Very calmly and coldly -he had told her that his engagement to Rose à Charlitte was over. He -assigned no cause for it, and Mrs. Nimmo, in her desperation, earnestly -wished that he had never heard of the Acadiens, that Rose à Charlitte -had never been born, and that the little peninsula of Nova Scotia had -never been traced on the surface of the globe. - -It was a lovely evening of late summer. The square in which she lived -was cool and quiet, for very few of its inhabitants had come back from -their summer excursions. Away in the distance, beyond the leafy common, -she could hear the subdued roar of the city, but on the brick pavements -about her there was scarcely a footfall. - -The window at which she sat faced the south. In winter her son's room -was flooded with sunlight, but in summer the branching elm outside put -forth a kindly screen of leaves to shield it from the too oppressive -heat. Her glance wandered between the delicate lace curtains, swaying to -and fro, to this old elm that seemed a member of her family. How much -her son loved it,--and with an indulgent thought of Vesper's passion for -the natives of the outdoor world, a disagreeable recollection of the -Acadien woman's child leaped into her mind. - -How absurdly fond of trees and flowers he had been, and what a fanciful, -unnatural child he was, altogether. She had never liked him, and he had -never liked her, and she wrinkled her brows at the distasteful -remembrance of him. - -A knock at the half-open door distracted her attention, and, languidly -turning her head, she said, "What is it, Henry?" - -"It's a young woman, Mis' Nimmo," replied that ever alert and demure -colored boy, "what sometimes brings you photographs. She come in a hack -with a girl." - -"Let her come up. She may leave the girl below." - -"I guess that girl ain't a girl, Mis' Nimmo,--she looks mighty like a -boy. She's the symbol of the little feller in the French place I took -you to." - -Mrs. Nimmo gave him a rebuking glance. "Let the girl remain -down-stairs." - -"Madame," said a sudden voice, "this is now Boston,--where is the -Englishman?" - -Mrs. Nimmo started from her chair. Here was the French child himself, -standing calmly before her in the twilight, his small body habited in -ridiculous and disfiguring girl's clothes, his cropped curly head and -white face appearing above an absurd kind of grayish yellow cloak. - -"Narcisse!" she ejaculated. - -"Madame," said the faint yet determined little voice, "is the Englishman -in his house?" - -Mrs. Nimmo's glance fell upon Henry, who was standing open-mouthed and -grotesque, and with a gesture she sent him from the room. - -Narcisse, exhausted yet eager, had started on a tour of investigation -about the room, holding up with one hand the girl's trappings, which -considerably hampered his movements, and clutching something to his -breast with the other. He had found the house of the Englishman and his -mother, and by sure tokens he recognized his recent presence in this -very room. Here were his books, his gloves, his cap, and, best of all, -another picture of him; and, with a cry of delight, he dropped on a -footstool before a full-length portrait of the man he adored. Here he -would rest: his search was ended; and meekly surveying Mrs. Nimmo, he -murmured, "Could Narcisse have a glass of milk?" - -Mrs. Nimmo's emotions at present all seemed to belong to the order of -the intense. She had never before been so troubled; she had never before -been so bewildered. What did the presence of this child under her roof -mean? Was his mother anywhere near? Surely not,--Rose would never clothe -her comely child in those shabby garments of the other sex. - -She turned her puzzled face to the doorway, and found an answer to her -questions in the presence of an anxious-faced young woman there, who -said, apologetically, "He got away from me; he's been like a wild thing -to get here. Do you know him?" - -"Know him? Yes, I have seen him before." - -The anxious-faced young woman breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought, -maybe, I'd been taken in. I was just closing up the studio, an hour ago, -when two men came up the stairs with this little fellow wrapped in an -old coat. They said they were from a schooner called the _Nancy Jane_, -down at one of the wharves, and they picked up this boy in a drifting -boat on the Bay Saint-Mary two days ago. They said he was frightened -half out of his senses, and was holding on to that photo in his -hand,--show the lady, dear." - -Narcisse, whose tired head was nodding sleepily on his breast, paid no -attention to her request, so she gently withdrew one of his hands from -under his cloak and exhibited in it a torn and stained photograph of -Vesper. - -Mrs. Nimmo caught her breath, and attempted to take it from him, but he -quickly roused himself, and, placing it beneath him, rolled over on the -floor, and, with a farewell glance at the portrait above, fell sound -asleep. - -"He's beat out," said the anxious-faced young woman. "I'm glad I've got -him to friends. The sailors were awful glad to get rid of him. They kind -of thought he was a French child from Nova Scotia, but they hadn't time -to run back with him, for they had to hurry here with their cargo, and -then he held on to the photo and said he wanted to be taken to that -young man. The sailors saw our address on it, but they sort of -misdoubted we wouldn't keep him. However, I thought I'd take him off -their hands, for he was frightened to death they would carry him back to -their vessel, though I guess they was kind enough to him. I gave them -back their coat, and borrowed some things from the woman who takes care -of our studio. I forgot to say the boy had only a night-dress on when -they found him." - -Mrs. Nimmo mechanically felt in her pocket for her purse. "They didn't -say anything about a woman being with him?" - -"No, ma'am; he wouldn't talk to them much, but they said it was likely a -child's trick of getting in a boat and setting himself loose." - -"Would you--would you care to keep him until he is sent for?" faltered -Mrs. Nimmo. - -"I--oh, no, I couldn't. I've only a room in a lodging-house. I'd be -afraid of something happening to him, for I'm out all day. I offered him -something to eat, but he wouldn't take it--oh, thank you, ma'am, I -didn't spend all that. I guess I'll have to go. Does he come from down -East?" - -"Yes, he is French. My son visited his house this summer, and used to -pet him a good deal." - -The young woman cast a glance of veiled admiration at the portrait. "And -the little one ran away to find him. Quite a story. He's cute, too," -and, airily patting Narcisse's curly head, she took her leave of Mrs. -Nimmo, and made her way down-stairs. A good many strange happenings came -into her daily life in this large city, and this was not one of the -strangest. - -Mrs. Nimmo sat still and stared at Narcisse. Rose had probably not been -in the boat with him,--had probably not been drowned. He had apparently -run away from home, and the first thing to do was to communicate with -his mother, who would be frantic with anxiety about him. She therefore -wrote out a telegram to Rose, "Your boy is with me, and safe and well," -and ringing for Henry, she bade him send it as quickly as possible. - -Then she sank again into profound meditation. The child had come to see -Vesper. Had she better not let him know about it? If she applied the -principles of sound reasoning to the case, she certainly should do so. -It might also be politic. Perhaps it would bring him home to her, and, -sighing heavily, she wrote another telegram. - -In the meantime Narcisse did not awake. He lay still, enjoying the heavy -slumber of exhaustion and content. He was in the house of his beloved -Englishman; all would now be well. - -He did not know that, after a time, his trustful confidence awoke the -mother spirit in the woman watching him. The child for a time was wholly -in her care. No other person in this vast city was interested in him. No -one cared for him. A strange, long-unknown feeling fluttered about her -breast, and memories of her past youth awoke. She had also once been a -child. She had been lonely and terrified, and suffered childish agonies -not to be revealed until years of maturity. They were mostly agonies -about trifles,--still, she had suffered. She pictured to herself the -despair and anger of the boy upon finding that Vesper did not return to -Sleeping Water as he had promised to do. With his little white face in a -snarl, he would enter the boat and set himself adrift, to face -sufferings of fright and loneliness of which in his petted childhood he -could have had no conception. And yet what courage. She could see that -he was exhausted, yet there had been no whining, no complaining; he had -attained his object and he was satisfied. He was really like her own -boy, and, with a proud, motherly smile, she gazed alternately from the -curly head on the carpet to the curly one in the portrait. - -The external resemblance, too, was indeed remarkable, and now the -thought did not displease her, although it had invariably done so in -Sleeping Water, when she had heard it frequently and naïvely commented -on by the Acadiens. - -Well, the child had thrown himself on her protection,--he should not -repent it; and, summoning a housemaid, she sent her in search of some of -Vesper's long-unused clothing, and then together they slipped the -disfiguring girl's dress from Narcisse's shapely body, and put on him a -long white nightrobe. - -He drowsily opened his eyes as they were lifting him into Vesper's bed, -saw that the photograph was still in his possession, and that a familiar -face was bending over him, then, sweetly murmuring "_Bon soir_" (good -night), he again slipped into the land of dreams. - -Several times during the night Mrs. Nimmo stole into her son's room, and -drew the white sheet from the black head half buried in the pillow. Once -she kissed him, and this time she went back to her bed with a lighter -heart, and was soon asleep herself. - -She was having a prolonged nap the next morning when something caused -her suddenly to open her eyes. Just for an instant she fancied herself a -happy young wife again, her husband by her side, their adored child -paying them an early morning call. Then the dream was over. This was the -little foreign boy who was sitting curled up on the foot of her bed, -nibbling hungrily at a handful of biscuits. - -"I came, madame, because those others I do not know," and he pointed -towards the floor, to indicate her servants. "Has your son, the -Englishman, yet arrived?" - -"No," she said, gently. - -"Your skin is white," said Narcisse, approvingly; "that is good; I do -not like that man." - -"But you have seen colored people on the Bay,--you must not dislike -Henry. My husband brought him here as a boy to wait on my son. I can -never give him up." - -"He is amiable," said Narcisse, diplomatically. "He gave me these," and -he extended his biscuits. - -They were carrying on their conversation in French, for only with Vesper -did Narcisse care to speak English. Perfectly aware, in his acute -childish intelligence, that he was, for a time, entirely dependent on -"madame," whom, up to this, he had been jealous of, and had positively -disliked, he was keeping on her a watchful and roguish eye. Mrs. Nimmo, -meanwhile, was interested and amused, but would make no overtures to -him. - -"Is your bed as soft as mine, madame?" he said, politely. - -"I do not know; I never slept in that one." - -Narcisse drew a corner of her silk coverlet over his feet. "Narcisse was -very sick yesterday." - -"I do not wonder," said his hostess. - -"Your son said that he would return, but he did not." - -"My son has other things to think of, little boy." - -Mrs. Nimmo's manner was one that would have checked confidences in an -ordinary child. It made Narcisse more eager to justify himself. "Why -does my mother cry every night?" he asked, suddenly. - -"How can I tell?" answered Mrs. Nimmo, peevishly. - -"I hear a noise in the night, like trees in a storm," said Narcisse, -tragically, and, drawing himself up, he fetched a tremendous sigh from -the pit of his little stomach; "then I put up my hand so,"--and leaning -over, he placed three fingers on Mrs. Nimmo's eyelids,--"and my mother's -face is quite wet, like leaves in the rain." - -Mrs. Nimmo did not reply, and he went on with alarming abruptness. "She -cries for the Englishman. I also cried, and one night I got out of bed. -It was very fine; there was the night sun in the sky,--you know, madame, -there is a night sun and a day sun--" - -"Yes, I know." - -"I went creeping, creeping to the wharf like a fly on a tree. I was not -afraid, for I carried your son in my hand, and he says only babies cry -when they are alone." - -"And then,--" said Mrs. Nimmo. - -"Oh, the beautiful stone!" cried Narcisse, his volatile fancy attracted -by a sparkling ring on Mrs. Nimmo's finger. - -She sighed, and allowed him to handle it for a moment. "I have just put -it on again, little boy. I have been in mourning for the last two years. -Tell me about your going to the boat." - -"There is nothing to tell," said Narcisse; "it was a very little boat." - -"Whose boat was it?" - -"The blacksmith's." - -"How did you get it off from the wharf?" - -"Like this," and bending over, he began to fumble with the strings of -her nightcap, tying and untying until he tickled her throat and made her -laugh irresistibly and push him away. "There was no knife," he said, "or -I would have cut it." - -"But you did wrong to take the blacksmith's boat." - -Narcisse's face flushed, yet he was too happy to become annoyed with -her. "When the Englishman is there, I am good, and my mother does not -cry. Let him go back with me." - -"And what shall I do?" - -Narcisse was plainly embarrassed. At last he said, earnestly, "Remain, -madame, with the black man, who will take care of you. When does the -Englishman arrive?" - -"I do not know; run away now, I want to dress." - -"You have here a fine bathroom," said Narcisse, sauntering across the -room to an open door. "When am I to have my bath?" - -"Does your mother give you one every day?" - -"Yes, madame, at night, before I go to bed. Do you not know the screen -in our room, and the little tub, and the dish with the soap that smells -so nice? I must scour myself hard in order to be clean." - -"I am glad to hear that. I will send a tub to your room." - -"But I like this, madame." - -"Come, come," she said, peremptorily, "run away. No one bathes in my tub -but myself." - -Narcisse had a passion for dabbling in water, and he found this dainty -bathroom irresistible. "I hate you, madame," he said, flushing angrily, -and stamping his foot at her. "I hate you." - -Mrs. Nimmo looked admiringly past the child at his reflection in her -cheval glass. What a beauty he was, as he stood furiously regarding her, -his sweet, proud face convulsed, his little body trembling inside his -white gown! In his recklessness he had forgotten to be polite to her, -and she liked him the better for it. - -"You are a naughty boy," she said, indulgently. "I cannot have you in my -room if you talk like that." - -Without a word Narcisse went to her dressing-table, picked up his -precious photograph that he had left propped against a silver-backed -brush, and turned to leave her, when she said, curiously, "Why did you -tear that picture if you think so much of it?" - -Narcisse immediately fell into a state of pitiable confusion, and, -hanging his head, remained speechless. - -"If you will say you are sorry for being rude, I will give you another -one," she said, and in a luxury of delight at playing with this little -soul, she raised herself on her arm and held out a hand to him. - -Narcisse drew back his lips at her as if he had been a small dog. -"Madame," he faltered, tapping his teeth, "these did it, but I stopped -them." - -"What do you mean?" said Mrs. Nimmo, and a horrible suspicion entered -her mind. - -"Narcisse was hungry--in the boat--" stammered the boy. "He nibbled but -a little of the picture. He could not bite the Englishman long." - -Mrs. Nimmo shuddered. She had never been hungry in her life. "Come here, -you poor child. You shall have a bath in my room as soon as I finish. -Give me a kiss." - -Narcisse's sensitive spirit immediately became bathed with light. "Shall -I kiss you as your son the Englishman kissed my mother?" - -"Yes," said Mrs. Nimmo, bravely, and she held out her arms. - -"But you must not do so," said Narcisse, drawing back. "You must now -cry, and hide your face like this,"--and his slender, supple fingers -guided her head into a distressed position,--"and when I approach, you -must wave your hands." - -"Did your mother do that?" asked Mrs. Nimmo, eagerly. - -"Yes,--and your son lifted her hand like this," and Narcisse bent a -graceful knee before her. - -"Did she not throw her arms around his neck and cling to him?" inquired -the lady, in an excess of jealous curiosity. - -"No, she ran from us up the bank." - -"Your mother is a wicked woman to cause my son pain," said Mrs. Nimmo, -in indignant and rapid French. - -"My mother is not wicked," said Narcisse, vehemently. "I wish to see -her. I do not like you." - -They were on the verge of another disagreement, and Mrs. Nimmo, with a -soothing caress, hurried him from the room. What a curious boy he was! -And as she dressed herself she sometimes smiled and sometimes frowned at -her reflection in the glass, but the light in her eyes was always a -happy one, and there was an unusual color in her cheeks. - - - - - CHAPTER XIX. - - AN INTERRUPTED MASS. - - "Here is our dearest theme where skies are blue and brightest, - To sing a single song in places that love it best; - Freighting the happy breeze when snowy clouds are lightest; - Making a song to cease not when the singer is dumb in rest." - - J. F. H. - - -Away up the Bay, past Sleeping Water and Church Point, past historic -Piau's Isle and Belliveau's Cove and the lovely Sissiboo River, past -Weymouth and the Barrens, and other villages stretched out along this -highroad, between Yarmouth and Digby, is Bleury,--beautiful Bleury, -which is the final outpost in the long-extended line of Acadien -villages. Beyond this, the Bay--what there is of it, for it soon ends -this side of Digby--is English. - -But beautiful Bleury, which rejoices in a high bluff, a richly wooded -shore, swelling hills, and an altogether firmer, bolder outlook than -flat Sleeping Water, is not wholly French. Some of its inhabitants are -English. Here the English tide meets the French tide, and, swelling up -the Bay and back in the woods, they overrun the land, and form curious -contrasts and results, unknown and unfelt in the purely Acadien -districts nearer the sea. - -In Bleury there is one schoolhouse common to both races, and on a -certain afternoon, three weeks after little Narcisse's adventurous -voyage in search of the Englishman, the children were tumultuously -pouring out from it. Instinctively they formed themselves into four -distinct groups. The groups at last resolved themselves into four -processions, two going up the road, two down. The French children took -one side of the road, the English the other, and each procession kept -severely to its own place. - -Heading the rows of English children who went up the Bay was a -red-haired girl of some twelve summers, whose fiery head gleamed like a -torch, held at the head of the procession. As far as the coloring of her -skin was concerned, and the exquisite shading of her velvety brown eyes, -and the shape of her slightly upturned nose, she might have been -English. But her eager gestures, her vivacity, her swiftness and -lightness of manner, marked her as a stranger and an alien among the -English children by whom she was surrounded. - -This was Bidiane LeNoir, Agapit's little renegade, and just now she was -highly indignant over a matter of offended pride. A French girl had -taken a place above her in a class, and also, secure in the fortress of -the schoolroom, had made a detestable face at her. - -"I hate them,--those Frenchies," she cried, casting a glance of defiance -at the Acadien children meekly filing along beyond her. "I sha'n't walk -beside 'em. Go on, you ----," and she added an offensive epithet. - -The dark-faced, shy Acadiens trotted soberly on, swinging their books -and lunch-baskets in their hands. They would not go out of their way to -seek a quarrel. - -"Run," said Bidiane, imperiously. - -The little Acadiens would not run, they preferred to walk, and Bidiane -furiously called to her adherents, "Let's sing mass." - -This was the deepest insult that could be offered to the children across -the road. Sometimes in their childish quarrels aprons and jackets were -torn, and faces were slapped, but no bodily injury ever equalled in -indignity that put upon the Catholic children when their religion was -ridiculed. - -However, they did not retaliate, but their faces became gloomy, and they -immediately quickened their steps. - -"Holler louder," Bidiane exhorted her followers, and she broke into a -howling "_Pax vobiscum_," while a boy at her elbow groaned, "_Et cum -spiritu tuo_," and the remainder of the children screamed in an -irreverent chorus, that ran all up and down the scale, "_Gloria tibi -Domine_." - -The Acadien children fled now, some of them with fingers in their ears, -others casting bewildered looks of horror, as if expecting to see the -earth open and swallow up their sacrilegious tormentors, who stood -shrieking with delight at the success of their efforts to rid themselves -of their undesired companions. - -"Shut up," said Bidiane, suddenly, and at once the laughter was stilled. -There was a stranger in their midst. He had come gliding among them on -one of the bright shining wheels that went up and down the Bay in such -large numbers. Before Bidiane had spoken he had dismounted, and his -quick eye was surveying them with a glance like lightning. - -The children stared silently at him. Ridicule cuts sharply into the -heart of a child, and a sound whipping inflicted on every girl and boy -present would not have impressed on them the burden of their iniquity as -did the fine sarcasm and disdainful amusement with which this handsome -stranger regarded them. - -One by one they dropped away, and Bidiane only remained rooted to the -spot by some magic incomprehensible to her. - -"Your name is Bidiane LeNoir," he said, quietly. - -"It ain't," she said, doggedly; "it's Biddy Ann Black." - -"Really,--and there are no LeNoirs about here, nor Corbineaus?" - -"Down the Bay are LeNoirs and Corbineaus," said the little girl, -defiantly; then she burst out with a question, "You ain't the Englishman -from Boston?" - -"I am." - -"Gosh!" she said, in profound astonishment; then she lowered her eyes, -and traced a serpent in the dust with her great toe. All up and down the -Bay had flashed the news of this wonderful stranger who had come to -Sleeping Water in quest of an heir or heiress to some vast fortune. The -heir had been found in the person of herself,--small, red-haired Biddy -Ann Black, and it had been firmly believed among her fellow playmates -that at any moment the prince might appear in a golden chariot and whisk -her away with him to realms of bliss, where she would live in a gorgeous -palace and eat cakes and sweetmeats all day long, sailing at intervals -in a boat of her own over a bay of transcendent loveliness, in which she -would catch codfish as big as whales. This story had been believed until -very recently, when it had somewhat died away by reason of the -non-appearance of the prince. - -Now he had arrived, and Bidiane's untrained mind and her little wild -beast heart were in a tumult. She felt that he did not approve of her, -and she loved and hated him in a breath. He was smooth, and dignified, -and sleek, like a priest. He was dark, too, like the French people, and -she scowled fiercely. He would see that her cotton gown was soiled; why -had she not worn a clean one to-day, and also put on her shoes? Would he -really want her to go away with him? She would not do so; and a lump -arose in her throat, and with a passionate emotion that she did not -understand she gazed across the Bay towards the purple hills of Digby -Neck. - -Vesper, perfectly aware of what was passing in her mind, waited for her -to recover herself. "I would like to see your uncle and aunt," he said, -at last. "Will you take me to them?" - -She responded by a gesture in the affirmative, and, still with eyes bent -obstinately on the ground, led the way towards a low brown house -situated in a hollow between two hills, and surrounded by a grove of -tall French poplars, whose ancestors had been nourished by the sweet -waters of the Seine. - -Vesper's time was limited, and he was anxious to gain the confidence of -the little maid, if possible, but she would not talk to him. - -"Do you like cocoanuts?" he said, presently, on seeing in the distance a -negro approaching, with a load of this foreign fruit, that he had -probably obtained from some schooner. - -"You bet," said Bidiane, briefly. - -Vesper stopped the negro, and bought as many nuts at five cents apiece -as he and Bidiane could carry. Then, trying to make her smile by -balancing one on the saddle of his wheel, he walked slowly beside her. - -Bidiane solemnly watched him. She would not talk, she would not smile, -but she cheerfully dropped her load when one of his cocoanuts rolled in -the ditch, and, at the expense of a scratched face from an inquisitive -rose-bush that bent over to see what she was doing, she restored it to -him. - -"Your cheek is bleeding," said Vesper. - -"No odds," she remarked, with Indian-like fortitude, and she preceded -him into a grassy dooryard, that was pervaded by a powerful smell of -frying doughnuts. - -Mirabelle Marie, her fat, good-natured young aunt, stood in the kitchen -doorway with a fork in her hand, and seeing that the stranger was -English, she beamed a joyous, hearty welcome on him. - -"Good day, sir; you'll stop to supper? That's right. Shove your wheel -ag'in that fence, and come right in. Biddy, git the creamer from the -well and give the genl'man a glass of milk. You won't?--All right, sir, -walk into the settin'-room. What! you'd rather set under the trees? All -right. My man's up in the barn, fussin' with a sick cow that's lost her -cud. He's puttin' a rind of bacon on her horns. What d'ye say, -Biddy?"--this latter in an undertone to the little girl, who was pulling -at her dress. "This is the Englishman from Boston--_sakerjé_!" and, -dropping her fork, she wiped her hands on her dress and darted out to -offer Vesper still more effusive expressions of hospitality. - -He smiled amiably on her, and presently she returned to the kitchen, -silly and distracted in appearance, and telling Bidiane that she felt -like a hen with her head cut off. The stranger who was to do so much for -them had come. She could have prostrated herself in the dust before him. -"Scoot, Biddy, scoot," she exclaimed; "borry meat of some kind. Go to -the Maxwells or to the Whites. Tell 'em he's come, and we've got nothin' -but fish and salt pork, and they know the English hate that like pizen. -And git a junk of butter with only a mite of salt in it. Mine's salted -heavy for the market. And skip to the store and ask 'em to score us for -a pound of cheese and some fancy crackers." - -Bidiane ran away, and, as she ran, her ill humor left her, and she felt -herself to be a very important personage. Vivaciously and swiftly she -exclaimed, "He's come!" to several children whom she met, and with a -keen and exquisite sense of pleasure looked back to see them standing -open-mouthed in the road, impressed in a most gratifying way by the news -communicated. - -In the meantime Mirabelle Marie began to make frantic and ludicrous -preparations to set a superfine meal before the stranger, who was now -entitled to a double share of honor. In her extreme haste everything -went wrong. She upset her pot of lard; the cat and dog got at her plate -of doughnuts, and stole half of them; the hot biscuits that she hastily -mixed burnt to a cinder, and the jar of preserved berries that she -opened proved to have been employing their leisure time in the cellar by -fermenting most viciously. - -However, she did not lose her temper, and, as she was not a woman to be -cast down by trifles, she seated herself in a rocking-chair, fanned -herself vigorously with her apron, and laughed spasmodically. - -Bidiane found her there on her return. The little girl possessed a -keener sense of propriety than her careless relative; she was also more -moody and variable, and immediately falling into a rage, she conveyed -some plain truths to Mirabelle Marie, in inelegant language. - -The woman continued to laugh, and to stare through the window at Vesper, -who sat motionless under the trees. One arm was thrown over the back of -his seat, and his handsome head was turned away from the house. - -"Poor calf," said Mirabelle Marie, "he looks down the Bay; he is a very -divil for good looks. Rose à Charlitte is one big fool." - -"We shall have only slops for supper," said Bidiane, in a fury, and -swearing under her breath at her. - -Mirabelle Marie at this bestirred herself, and tried to evolve a meal -from the ruin of her hopes, and the fresh supply of food that her niece -had obtained. - -The little girl meantime found a clean cloth, and spread it on the -table. She carefully arranged on it their heavy white dishes and -substantial knives and spoons. Then she blew a horn, which made Claude à -Sucre, her strapping great uncle, suddenly loom against the horizon, in -the direction of the barn. - -He came to the house, and was about to ask a question, but closed his -mouth when he saw the stranger in the yard. - -"Go change," said Bidiane, pouncing upon him. - -Claude knew what she meant, and glanced resignedly from his homespun -suit to her resolved face. There was no appeal, so he went to his -bedroom to don his Sunday garments. He had not without merit gained his -nickname of Sugar Claude; for he was, if possible, more easy-going than -his wife. - -Bidiane next attacked her aunt, whose face was the color of fire, from -bending over the stove. "Go put on clean duds; these are dirty." - -"Go yourself, you little cat," said Mirabelle Marie, shaking her -mountain of flesh with a good-natured laugh. - -"I'm going--I ain't as dirty as you, anyway--and take off those sneaks." - -Mirabelle Marie stuck out one of the flat feet encased in rubber-soled -shoes. "My land! if I do, I'll go barefoot." - -Bidiane subsided and went to the door to look for her two boy cousins. -Where were they? She shaded her eyes with her two brown hands, and her -gaze swept the land and the water. Where were those boys? Were they back -in the pasture, or down by the river, or playing in the barn, or out in -the boat? A small schooner beating up the Bay caught her eye. That was -Johnny Maxwell's schooner. She knew it by the three-cornered patch on -the mainsail. And in Captain Johnny's pockets, when he came from Boston, -were always candy, nuts, and raisins,--and the young Maxwells were of a -generous disposition, and the whole neighborhood knew it. Her cousins -would be on the wharf below the house, awaiting his arrival. Well, they -should come to supper first; and, like a bird of prey, she swooped down -the road upon her victims, and, catching them firmly by the shoulders, -marched them up to the house. - - - - - CHAPTER XX. - - WITH THE WATERCROWS. - - "Her mouth was ever agape, - Her ears were ever ajar; - If you wanted to find a sweeter fool, - You shouldn't have come this far." - - --_Old Song._ - - -When the meal was at last prepared, and the whole family were assembled -in the sitting-room, where the table had been drawn from the kitchen, -they took a united view of Vesper's back; then Claude à Sucre was sent -to escort him to the house. - -With a rapturous face Mirabelle Marie surveyed the steaming dish of -_soupe à la patate_ (potato soup), the mound of buttered toast, the -wedge of tough fried steak, the strips of raw dried codfish, the pink -cake, and fancy biscuits. Surely the stranger would be impressed by the -magnificence of this display, and she glanced wonderingly at Bidiane, -whose eyes were lowered to the floor. The little girl had enjoyed -advantages superior to her own, in that she mingled freely in English -society, where she herself--Mirabelle Marie--was strangely shunned. -Could it be that she was ashamed of this board? Certainly she could -never have seen anything much grander; and, swelling with gratified -pride and ambition, the mistress of the household seated herself behind -her portly teapot, from which vantage-ground she beamed, huge and silly, -like a full-grown moon upon the occupants of the table. - -Her guest was not hungry, apparently, for he scarcely touched the dishes -that she pressed upon him. However, he responded so gracefully and with -such well-bred composure to her exhortations that he should eat his -fill, for there was more in the cellar, that she was far from resenting -his lack of appetite. He was certainly a "boss young man;" and as she -sat, delicious visions swam through her brain of new implements for the -farm, a new barn, perhaps, new furniture for the house, with possibly an -organ, a spick and span wagon, and a horse, or even a pair, and the -eventual establishment of her two sons in Boston,--the El Dorado of her -imagination,--where they would become prosperous merchants, and make -heaps of gold for their mother to spend. - -In her excitement she began to put her food in her mouth with both -hands, until reminded that she was flying in the face of English -etiquette by a vigorous kick administered under the table by Bidiane. - -Vesper, with an effort, called back his painful wandering thoughts, -which had indeed gone down the Bay, and concentrated them upon this -picturesquely untidy family. This was an entirely different -establishment from that of the Sleeping Water Inn. Fortunately there was -no grossness, no clownishness of behavior, which would have irreparably -offended his fastidious taste. They were simply uncultured, scrambling, -and even interesting with the background of this old homestead, which -was one of the most ancient that he had seen on the Bay, and which had -probably been built by some of the early settlers. - -While he was quietly making his observations, the family finished their -meal, and seeing that they were waiting for him to give the signal for -leaving the table, he politely rose and stepped behind his chair. - -Mirabelle Marie scurried to her feet and pushed the table against the -wall. Then the whole family sat down in a semicircle facing a large open -fireplace heaped high with the accumulated rubbish of the summer, and -breathlessly waited for the stranger to tell them of his place of birth, -the amount of his fortune, his future expectations and hopes, his -intentions with regard to Bidiane, and of various and sundry other -matters that might come in during the course of their conversation. - -Vesper, with his usual objection to having any course of action mapped -out for him, sat gazing imperturbably at them. He was really sorry for -Mirabelle Marie, who was plainly bursting with eagerness. Her husband -was more reserved, yet he, too, was suffering from suppressed curiosity, -and timidly and wistfully handled his pipe, that he longed to and yet -did not dare to smoke. - -His two small boys sat dangling their legs from seats that were -uncomfortably high for them. They were typical Acadien children,--shy, -elusive, and retreating within themselves in the presence of strangers; -and if, by chance, Vesper caught a stealthy glance from one of them, the -little fellow immediately averted his glossy head, as if afraid that the -calm eyes of the stranger might lay bare the inmost secrets of his -youthful soul. - -Bidiane was the most interesting of the group. She was evidently a born -manager and the ruling spirit in the household, for he could see that -they all stood in awe of her. She must possess some force of will to -enable her to subdue her natural eagerness and vivacity, so as to appear -sober and reserved. His presence was evidently a constraint to the -little red-haired witch, and he could scarcely have understood her -character, if Agapit had not supplied him with a key to it. - -Young as she was, she acutely appreciated the racial differences about -her. There were two worlds in her mind,--French and English. The -careless predilections of her aunt had become fierce prejudices with -her, and, at present, although she was proud to have an Englishman under -their roof, she was at the same time tortured by the contrast that she -knew he must find between the humble home of her relatives and the more -prosperous surroundings of the English people with whom he was -accustomed to mingle. - -"She is a clever little imp," Agapit had said, "and wise beyond her -years." - -Vesper, when his unobtrusive examination of her small resolved face was -over, glanced about the low, square room in which they sat. The sun was -just leaving it. The family would soon be thinking of going to bed. All -around the room were other rooms evidently used as sleeping apartments, -for through a half-open door he saw an unmade bed, and he knew, from the -construction of the house, that there was no upper story. - -After a time the silence became oppressive, and Mirabelle Marie, seeing -that the stranger would not entertain her, set herself to the task of -entertaining him, and with an ingratiating and insinuating smile -informed him that the biggest liar on the Bay lived in Bleury. - -"His name's Bill," she said, "Blowin' Bill Duckfoot, an' the boys git -'round him an' say, 'Give us a yarn.' He says, 'Well, give me a chaw of -'baccy,' then he starts off. 'Onct when I went to sea'--he's never bin -off the Bay, you know--'it blowed as hard as it could for ten days. Then -it blowed ten times harder. We had to lash the cook to the mast.' 'What -did you do when you wanted grub?' says the boys. 'Oh, we unlashed him -for awhile,' says Bill. 'One day the schooner cracked from stern to -stem. Cap'en and men begun to holler and says we was goin' to the -bottom.' 'Cheer up,' says Bill, 'I'll fix a way.' So he got 'em to lash -the anchor chains 'roun' the schooner, an' that hold 'em together till -they got to Boston, and there was nothin' too good for Bill. It was -cousin Duckfoot, an' brother Duckfoot, and good frien' Duckfoot, and -lots of treatin'." - -Vesper in suppressed astonishment surveyed Mirabelle Marie, who, at the -conclusion of her story, burst into a fit of such hearty laughter that -she seemed to be threatened there and then with a fit of apoplexy. Her -face grew purple, tears ran down her cheeks, and through eyes that had -become mere slits in her face she looked at Claude, who too was -convulsed with amusement, at her two small boys, who giggled behind -their hands, and at Bidiane, who only smiled sarcastically. - -Vesper at once summoned an expression of interest to his face, and -Mirabelle Marie, encouraged by it, caught her breath with an explosive -sound, wiped the tears from her eyes, and at once continued. "Here's -another daisy one. 'Onct,' says Bill, 'all han's was lost 'cept me an' a -nigger. I went to the stern as cap'en, and he to the bow as deck-han'. A -big wave struck the schooner, and when we righted, wasn't the nigger at -stern as cap'en, an' I was at bow as deck-han'!'" - -While Vesper was waiting for the conclusion of the story, a burst of -joyous cachinnation assured him that it had already come. Mirabelle -Marie was again rocking herself to and fro in immoderate delight, her -head at each dip forward nearly touching her knees, while her husband -was slapping his side vigorously. - -Vesper laughed himself. Truly there were many different orders of mind -in the universe. He saw nothing amusing in the reported exploits of the -liar Duckfoot. They also would not have brought a smile to the face of -his beautiful Rose, yet the Corbineaus, or Watercrows, as they -translated their name in order to make themselves appear English, found -these stories irresistibly comical. It was a blessing for them that they -did so, otherwise the whole realm of humor might be lost to them; and he -was going off in a dreamy speculation with regard to their other mental -proclivities, when he was roused by another story from his hostess. - -"Duckfoot is a mason by trade, an' onct he built a chimbley for a woman. -'Make a good draught,' says she. 'You bet,' says he, an' he built his -chimbley an' runs away; as he runs he looks back, an' there was the -woman's duds that was hangin' by the fire goin' up the chimbley. He had -built such a draught that nothin' could stay in the kitchen, so she had -to go down on her knees an' beg him to change it." - -"To beg him to change it," vociferated Claude, and he soundly smacked -his unresisting knee. "Oh, Lord, 'ow funny!" and he roared with laughter -so stimulating that he forgot his fear of Vesper and Bidiane, and, -boldly lighting his pipe, put it between his lips. - -Mirabelle Marie, whose flow of eloquence it was difficult to check, -related several other tales of Duckfoot Bill. Many times, before the -railway in this township of Clare had been built, he had told them of -his uncle, who had, he said, a magnificent residence in Louisiana, with -a park full of valuable animals called skunks. These animals he had -never fully described, and they were consequently enveloped in a cloud -of admiration and mystery, until a horde of them came with the railroad -to the Bay, when the credulous Acadiens learned for themselves what they -really were. - -During the recital of this tale, Bidiane's face went from disapproval to -disgust, and at last, diving under the table, she seized a basket and -went to work vigorously, as if the occupation of her fingers would ease -the perturbation of her mind. - -Vesper watched her closely. She was picking out the threads of old -cotton and woollen garments that had been cut into small pieces. These -threads would be washed, laid out on the grass to dry, and then be -carded, and spun, and woven over again, according to a thrifty custom of -the Acadiens, and made into bedcovers, stockings, and cloth. The child -must possess some industry, for this work--"pickings," as it was -called--was usually done by the women. In brooding silence the little -girl listened to Mirabelle Marie's final tale of Duckfoot Bill, whose -wife called out to him, one day, from the yard, that there was a flock -of wild geese passing over the house. Without troubling to go out, he -merely discharged his gun up the chimney beside which he sat, and the -ramrod, carelessly being left in, killed a certain number of geese. - -"How many do you guess that ramrod run through?" - -Vesper good-naturedly guessed two. - -"No,--seven," she shrieked; "they was strung in a row like dried -apples," and she burst into fresh peals of laughter, until suddenly -plunged into the calmness of despair by a few words from Bidiane, who -leaned over and whispered angrily to her. - -Mirabelle Marie trembled, and gazed at the stranger. Was it true,--did -he wish to commend her to a less pleasant place than Bleury for teasing -him with these entrancing stories? - -She could gather nothing from his face; so she entered tremulously into -a new subject of conversation, and, pointing to Claude's long legs, -assured him that his heavy woollen stockings had been made entirely by -Bidiane. "She's smart,--as smart as a steel trap," said the aunt. "She -can catch the sheeps, hold 'em down, shear the wool, an' spin it." - -Bidiane immediately pushed her basket under the table with so fiery and -resentful a glance that the unfortunate Mirabelle Marie relapsed into -silence. - -"Have you ever gone to sea?" asked Vesper, of the silently smoking -Claude. - -"Yessir, we mos' all goes to sea when we's young." - -"Onct he was wrecked," interrupted his wife. - -"Yessir, I was. Off Arichat we got on a ledge. We thump up an' down. We -was all on deck but the cook. The cap'en sends me to the galley for 'im. -'E come up, we go ashore, an' the schooner go to pieces." - -"Tell him about the mouse," said Bidiane, abruptly. - -"The mouse?--oh, yess, when I go for the cook I find 'im in the corner, -a big stick in his 'and. I dunno 'ow 'e stan'. 'Is stove was upside -down, an' there was an awful wariwarie" (racket). "'E seem not to think -of danger. ''Ist,' says 'e. 'Don' mek a noise,--I wan' to kill that -mouse.'" - -Vesper laughed at this, and Mirabelle Marie's face cleared. - -"Tell the Englishman who was the cap'en of yous," she said, impulsively, -and she resolutely turned her back on Bidiane's terrific frown. - -"Well, 'e was smart," said Claude, apologetically. "'E always get on -though 'e not know much. One day when 'e fus' wen' to sea 'is wife says, -'All the cap'ens' wives talk about their charts, an' you ain't gut none. -I buy one.' So she wen' to Yarmouth, an' buy 'im a chart. She also buy -some of that shiny cloth for kitchen table w'at 'as blue scrawly lines -like writin' on it. The cap'en leave the nex' mornin' before she was up, -an' 'e takes with 'im the oilcloth instid of the chart, an' 'e 'angs it -in 'is cabin; 'e didn't know no differ. 'E never could write,--that man. -He mek always a pictur of 'is men when 'e wan' to write the fish they -ketch. But 'e was smart, very smart. 'E mek also money. Onct 'e was -passenger on a schooner that smacks ag'in a steamer in a fog. All 'an's -scuttle, 'cause that mek a big scare. They forgit 'im. 'E wake; 'e find -'imself lonely. Was 'e frightful? Oh, no; 'e can't work sails, but 'e -steer that schooner to Boston, an' claim salvage." - -"Tell also the name of the cap'en," said Mirabelle Marie. - -Claude moved uneasily in his chair, and would not speak. - -"What was it?" asked Vesper. - -"It was Crispin," said Mirabelle Marie, solemnly. "Crispin, the brother -of Charlitte." - -Vesper calmly took a cigarette from his pocket, and lighted it. - -"It is a nice place down the Bay," said Mirabelle Marie, uneasily. - -"Very nice," responded her guest. - -"Rose à Charlitte has a good name," she continued, "a very good name." - -Vesper fingered his cigarette, and gazed blankly at her. - -"They speak good French there," she said. - -Her husband and Bidiane stared at her. They had never heard such a -sentiment from her lips before. However, they were accustomed to her -ways, and they soon got over their surprise. - -"Do you not speak French?" asked Vesper. - -Mrs. Watercrow shrugged her shoulders. "It is no good. We are all -English about here. How can one be French? Way back, when we went to -mass, the priest was always botherin'--'Talk French to your young ones. -Don't let them forgit the way the old people talked.' One day I come -home and says to my biggest boy, '_Va ramasser des écopeaux_'" (Go pick -up some chips). "He snarl at me, 'Do you mean potatoes?' He didn't like -it." - -"Did he not understand you?" asked Vesper. - -"Naw, naw," said Claude, bitterly. "We 'ave French nebbors, but our -young ones don' play with. They don' know French. My wife she speak it -w'en we don' want 'em to know w'at we say." - -"You always like French," said his wife, contemptuously. "I guess you -gut somethin' French inside you." - -Claude, for some reason or other, probably because, usually without an -advocate, he now knew that he had one in Vesper, was roused to unusual -animation. He snatched his pipe from his mouth and said, warmly, "It's -me 'art that's French, an' sometimes it's sore. I speak not much, but I -think often we are fools. Do the Eenglish like us? No, only a few come -with us; they grin 'cause we put off our French speakin' like an ole -coat. A man say to me one day, 'You 'ave nothin'. You do not go to mass, -you preten' to be Protestan', w'en you not brought up to it. You big -fool, you don' know w'at it is. If you was dyin' to-morrer you'd sen' -for the priest.'" - -Mirabelle Marie opened her eyes wide at her husband's eloquence. - -He was not yet through. "An' our children, they are silly with it. They -donno' w'at they are. All day Sunday they play; sometimes they say cuss -words. I say, 'Do it not,' 'an' they ast me w'y. I cannot tell. They are -not French, they are not Eenglish. They 'ave no religion. I donno' w'ere -they go w'en they die." - -Mirabelle Marie boldly determined to make confidences to the Englishman -in her turn. - -"The English have loads of money. I wish I could go to Boston. I could -make it there,--yes, lots of it." - -Claude was not to be put down. "I like our own langwidge, oh, yes," he -said, sadly. "W'en I was a leetle boy I wen' to school. All was -Eenglish. They put in my 'and an Eenglish book. I'd lef my mother, I was -stoopid. I thought all the children's teeth was broke, 'cause they spoke -so strange. Never will I forgit my firs' day in school. W'y do they -teach Eenglish to the French? The words was like fish 'ooks in my -flesh." - -"Would you be willing to send that little girl down the Bay to a French -convent?" said Vesper, waving his cigarette towards Bidiane. - -"We can't pay that," said Mirabelle Marie, eagerly. - -"But I would." - -While she was nodding her head complacently over this, the first of the -favors to be showered on them, Claude said, slowly, "Down the Bay is -like a bad, bad place to my children; they do not wish to go, not even -to ride. They go towards Digby. Biddy Ann would not go to the -convent,--would she, Biddy?" - -The little girl threw up her head angrily. "I hate Frenchtown, and that -black spider, Agapit LeNoir." - -Claude's face darkened, and his wife chuckled. Surely now there would be -nothing left for the Englishman to do but to transplant them all to -Boston. - -"Would you not go?" asked Vesper, addressing Bidiane. - -"Not a damn step," said the girl, in a fury, and, violently pushing back -her chair, she rushed from the room. If this young man wished to make a -French girl of her, he might go on his way. She would have nothing to do -with him. And with a rebellious and angry heart at this traitor to his -race, as she regarded him, she climbed up a ladder in the kitchen that -led to a sure hiding-place under the roof. - -Her aunt clutched her head in despair. Bidiane would ruin everything. -"She's all eaten up to go to Boston," she gasped. - -"I am not a rich man," said Vesper, coldly. "I don't feel able at -present to propose anything further for her than to give her a year or -two in a convent." - -Mirabelle Marie gaped speechlessly at him. In one crashing ruin her new -barn, and farming implements, the wagon and horses, and trunks full of -fine clothes fell into the abyss of lost hopes. The prince had not the -long purse that she supposed he would have. And yet such was her -good-nature that, when she recovered from the shock, she regarded him -just as kindly and as admiringly as before, and if he had been in the -twinkling of an eye reduced to want she would have been the first to -relieve him, and give what aid she could. Nothing could destroy her -deep-rooted and extravagant admiration for the English race. - -Her fascinated glance followed him as he got up and sauntered to the -open door. - -"You'll stop all night?" she said, hospitably, shuffling after him. "We -have one good bed, with many feathers." - -He did not hear her, for in a state of extreme boredom, and slight -absent-mindedness, he had stepped out under the poplars. - -"Better leave 'im alone, I guess," said Claude; then he slipped off his -coat. "I'll go milk." - -"An' I'll make up the bed," said his wife; and taking the hairpins out -of the switch that Bidiane had made her attach to her own thick lump of -hair, she laid it on the shelf by the clock, and allowed her own brown -wave to stream freely down her back. Then she unfastened her corsets, -which she did not dare to take off, as no woman in Bleury who did not -wear that article of dress tightly enfolding her chest and waist was -considered to have reached the acme of respectability. However, she -could for a time allow them to gape slightly apart, and having by this -proceeding added much to her comfort, she entered one of the small rooms -near by. - -Vesper meanwhile walked slowly towards the gate, while Bidiane watched -him through a loophole in the roof. His body only was in Bleury; his -heart was in Sleeping Water. Step by step he was following Rose about -her daily duties. He knew just at what time of day her slender feet -carried her to the stable, to the duck-yard, to the hen-house. He knew -the exact hour that she entered her kitchen in the morning, and went -from it to the pantry. He could see her beautiful face at the cool -pantry window, as she stood mixing various dishes, and occasionally -glancing at the passers-by on the road. Sometimes she sang gently to -herself, "Rose of the cross, thou mystic flower," or "Dear angel ever at -my side," or some of the Latin hymns to the Virgin. - -At this present moment her tasks would all be done. If there were guests -who desired her presence, she might be seated with them in the little -parlor. If there were none, she was probably alone in her room. Of what -was she thinking? The blood surged to his face, there was a beating in -his ears, and he raised his suffering glance to the sky. "O God! now I -know why I suffered when my father died. It was to prepare me for this." - -Then his mind went back to Rose. Had she succeeded in driving his image -from her pure mind and imagination? Alas! he feared not,--he would like -to know. He had heard nothing of her since leaving Sleeping Water. -Agapit had written once, but he had not mentioned her. - -This inaction was horrible,--this place wearied him insufferably. He -glanced towards his wheel, and a sentence from one of Agapit's books -came into his mind. It contained the advice of an old monk to a -penitent, "My son, when in grievous temptation from trouble of the mind, -engage violently in some exercise of the body." - -He was a swift rider, and there was no need for him to linger longer -here. These people were painfully subservient. If at any time anything -came into his mind to be done for the little girl, they would readily -agree to it; that is, if the small tigress concurred; at present there -was nothing to be done for her. - -He laid his hand on his bicycle and went towards the house again. There -was no one to be seen, so he hurried up to the rickety barn where Claude -sat on a milking-stool, trying to keep his long legs out of the way of a -frisky cow. - -The Frenchman was overcome with stolid dismay when Vesper briefly bade -him good-by, and going to the barn door, he stared regretfully after -him. - -Mirabelle Marie, in blissful unconsciousness of the sudden departure, -went on with her bed-making, but Bidiane, through the crack in the roof, -saw him go, and in childish contradiction of spirit shed tears of anger -and disappointment at the sight. - - - - - CHAPTER XXI. - - A SUPREME ADIEU. - - "How reads the riddle of our life, - That mortals seek immortal joy, - That pleasures here so quickly cloy, - And hearts are e'en with yearnings rife? - That love's bright morn no midday knows, - And darkness comes ere even's close, - And fondest hopes bear seeds of strife. - - "Let fools deride; Faith's God-girt breast - Their puny shafts can turn aside, - And mock with these their sin-born pride. - Our souls were made for God the Best; - 'Tis He alone can satisfy - Their every want, can still each cry; - In Him alone shall they find rest." - - CORNELIUS O'BRIEN, _Archbishop of Halifax_. - - -The night was one of velvety softness, and the stars, as if suspecting -his mission, blinked delicately and discreetly down upon him, while -Vesper, who knew every step of the way, went speeding down the Bay with -a wildly beating heart. - -Several Acadiens recognized him as he swept past them on the road, but -he did not stop to parley with them, for he wished to reach Yarmouth as -soon as possible. His brain was tortured, and it seemed to him that, at -every revolution of his wheels, a swift, subtle temptation assaulted him -more insidiously and more fiercely. He would pass right by the Sleeping -Water Inn. Why should he not pause there for a few minutes and make some -arrangement with Rose about Narcisse, who was still in Boston? He -certainly had a duty to perform towards the child. Would it not be -foolish for him to pass by the mother's door without speaking to her of -him? What harm could there be in a conversation of five minutes' -duration? - -His head throbbed, his muscles contracted. Only this afternoon he had -been firm, as firm as a rock. He had sternly resolved not to see her -again, not to write to her, not to meet her, not to send her a message, -unless he should hear that she had been released from the bond of her -marriage. What had come over him now? He was as weak as a child. He had -better stop and think the matter over; and he sprang from his wheel and -threw himself down on a grassy bank, covered with broad leaves that -concealed the dead and withered flowers of the summer. - -Somewhere in the darkness behind him was lonely Piau's Isle, where -several of the Acadien forefathers of the Bay lay buried. What courage -and powers of endurance they had possessed! They had bravely borne -their burdens, lived their day, and were now at rest. Some day,--in a -few years, perhaps,--he, too, would be a handful of dust, and he, too, -would leave a record behind him; what would his record be? - -He bit his lip and set his teeth savagely. He was a fool and a coward. -He would not go to Sleeping Water, but would immediately turn his back -on temptation, and go to Weymouth. He could stay at a hotel there all -night, and take the train in the morning. - -The soft air caressed his weary head; for a long time he lay staring up -at the stars through the interlaced branches of an apple-tree over him, -then he slowly rose. His face was towards the head of the Bay; he no -longer looked towards Sleeping Water, but for a minute he stood -irresolutely, and in that brief space of time his good resolution was -irrevocably lost. - -Some girls were going to a merrymaking, and, as they went, they laughed -gaily and continuously. One of them had clear, silvery tones like those -of Rose. The color again surged to his face, the blood flew madly -through his veins. He must see her, if only for an instant; and, -hesitating no longer, he turned and went careering swiftly through the -darkness. - -A short time later he had reached the inn. There was a light in Rose's -window. She must have gone to bed. Célina only was in the kitchen, and, -with a hasty glance at her, he walked to the stable. - -A terrible quacking in the duck-yard advised him who was there, and he -was further assured by hearing an irritable voice exclaim, "If fowls -were hatched dumb, there would not be this distracting tumult!" - -Agapit was after a duck. It fell to his lot to do the killing for the -household, and it was so great a trial to his kind heart that, if the -other members of the family had due warning, they usually, at such -times, shut themselves up to be out of reach of his lamentable outcries -when he was confronted by a protesting chicken, an innocent lamb, a -tumultuous pig, or a trusting calf. - -Just now he emerged from the yard, holding a sleepy drake by the wing. - -"_Miséricorde!_" he exclaimed, when he almost ran into Vesper, "who is -it? You--you?" and he peered at him through the darkness. - -"Yes, it is I." - -"Confiding fool," said Agapit, impatiently tossing the drake back among -his startled comrades, "I will save thy neck once more." - -Vesper marked the emphasis. "I am on my way to Yarmouth," he said, -calmly, "and I have stopped to see your cousin about Narcisse." - -"Ah!--he is well, I trust." - -"He is better than when he was here." - -"His mother has gone to bed." - -"I will wait, then, until the morning." - -"Ah!" said Agapit again; then he laughed recklessly and seized Vesper's -hand. "I cannot pretend. You see that I am rejoiced to have you again -with us." - -"I, too, am glad to be here." - -"But you will not stay?" - -"Oh, no, Agapit--you know me better than that." - -Vesper's tone was confident, yet Agapit looked anxiously at him through -the gathering gloom. "It would be better for Rose not to see you." - -"Agapit--we are not babies." - -"No, you are worse,--it is well said that only our Lord loves lovers. No -other would have patience." - -Vesper held his straight figure a little straighter, and his manner -warned the young Acadien to be careful of what he said, but he dashed -on, "Words are brave; actions are braver." - -"How is Madame de Forêt?" asked Vesper, shortly. - -"What do you expect--joyous, riotous health? Reflect only that she has -been completely overthrown about her child. I hope that madame, your -mother, is well." - -"She has not been in such good health for years. She is greatly -entertained by Narcisse," and Vesper smiled at some reminiscence. - -"It is one of the most charming of nights," said Agapit, insinuatingly. -"Toochune would be glad to have a harness on his back. We could fly over -the road to Yarmouth. It would be more agreeable than travelling by -day." - -"Thank you, Agapit--I do not wish to go to-night." - -"Oh, you self-willed one--you Lucifer!" said Agapit, wildly. "You -dare-all, you conquer-all! Take care that you are not trapped." - -"Come, show me a room," said Vesper, who was secretly gratified with the -irrepressible delight of the Acadien in again seeing him,--a delight -that could not be conquered by his anxiety. - -"This evening the house is again full," said Agapit. "Rose is quite -wearied; come softly up-stairs. I can give you but the small apartment -next her own, but you must not rise early in the morning, and seek an -interview with her." - -Two angry red spots immediately appeared in Vesper's cheeks, and he -stared haughtily at him. - -Agapit snapped his fingers. "I trust you not that much, though if you -had not come back, my confidence would have reached to eternity. You are -unfortunately too nobly human,--why were you not divine? But I must not -reproach. Have I not too been a lover? You are capable of all, even of -talking through the wall with your beloved. You should have stayed away, -you should have stayed away!" and, grumbling and shaking his head, he -ushered his guest up-stairs, and into a tiny and exquisitely clean room, -that contained only a bed, a table, a wash-stand, and one chair. - -Agapit motioned Vesper to the chair, and sprawled himself half over the -foot of the bed, half out the open window, while he talked to his -companion, whose manner had a new and caressing charm that attracted him -even more irresistibly than his former cool and somewhat careless one -had done. - -"Ah, why is life so?" he at last exclaimed, springing up, with a sigh. -"Under all is such sadness. Your presence gives such joy. Why should it -be denied us?" - -Vesper stared at his shoes to hide the nervous tears that sprang to his -eyes. - -Agapit immediately averted his sorrowful glance. "You are not angry with -me for my free speech?" - -"Good heavens, no!" said Vesper, irritably turning his back on him, "but -I would thank you to leave me." - -"Good night," said the Acadien, softly. "May the blessed Virgin give you -peace. Remember that I love you, for I prophesy that we on the morrow -shall quarrel," and with this cheerful assurance he gently closed the -door, and went to the next room. - -Rose threw open the door to him, and Agapit, though he was prepared for -any change in her, yet for an instant could not conceal his -astonishment. Where was her pallor,--her weariness? Gone, like the mists -of the morning before the glory of the sun. Her face was delicately -colored, her blue eyes were flooded with the most exquisite and tender -light that he had ever seen in them. She had heard her lover's step, and -Agapit dejectedly reflected that he should have even more trouble with -her than with Vesper. - -"Surely, I am to see him to-night?" she murmured. - -"Surely not," growled Agapit. "For what do you wish to see him?" - -"Agapit,--should not a mother hear of her little one?" - -"Is it for that only you wish to see him?" - -"For that,--also for other things. Is he changed, Agapit? Has his face -grown more pale?" - -Agapit broke into vigorous French. "He is more foolish than ever, that I -assure thee. Such a simpleton, and thou lovest him!" - -"If he is a fool, then there are no wise men in the world; but thou art -only teasing. Ah, Agapit, dear Agapit," and she clasped her hands, and -extended them towards him. "Tell me only what he says of Narcisse." - -"He is well; he will tell thee in the morning of a plan he has. Go now -to bed,--and Rose, to-morrow be sensible, be wise. Thou wert so -noteworthy these three weeks ago, what has come to thee now?" - -"Agapit, thou dost remember thy mother a very little, is it not so?" - -"Yes, yes." - -"Thou couldst part from her; but suppose she came back from the dead. -Suppose thou couldst hear her voice in the hall, what wouldst thou do?" - -"I would run to greet her," he said, rashly. "I would be mad with -pleasure." - -"That man was as one dead," she said, with an eloquent gesture towards -the next room. "I did not think of seeing him again. How can I cease -from joy?" - -"Give me thy promise," he said, abruptly, "not to see him without me. -Otherwise, thou mayst be prowling in the morning, when I oversleep -myself, and thou wilt talk about me to this charming stranger." - -"Agapit," she said, in amazement, "wouldst thou insult me?" - -"No, little rabbit,--I would only prevent thee from insulting me." - -"It is like jailorizing. I shall not be a naughty child in a cell." - -"But thou wilt," he said, with determination. "Give me thy promise." - -Rose became indignant, and Agapit, who was watching her keenly, stepped -inside her room, lest he should be overheard. "Rose," he said, swiftly, -and with a deep, indrawn breath, "have I not been a brother to thee?" - -"Yes, yes,--until now." - -"Now, most of all,--some day thou wilt feel it. Would I do anything to -injure thee? I tell thee thou art like a weak child now. Have I not been -in love? Do not I know that for a time one's blood burns, and one is -mad?" - -"But what do you fear?" she asked, proudly, drawing back from him. - -"I fear nothing, little goose," he exclaimed, catching her by the wrist, -"for I take precautions. I have talked to this young man,--do not I also -esteem him? I tell thee, as I told him,--he is capable of all, and when -thou seest him, a word, a look, and he will insist upon thy leaving thy -husband to go with him." - -"Agapit, I am furious with thee. Would I do a wrong thing?" - -"Not of thyself; but think, Rose, thou art weak and nervous. Thy -strength has been tried; when thou seest thy lover thou wilt be like a -silly sheep. Trust me,--when thy father, on his dying bed, pointed to -thee, I knew his meaning. Did not I say 'Yes, yes, I will take care of -her, for she is beautiful, and men are wicked.'" - -"But thou didst let me marry Charlitte," she said, with a stifled cry. - -Agapit was crushed by her accusation. He made a despairing gesture. "I -have expected this, but, Rose, I was younger. I did not know the hearts -of women. We thought it well,--your stepmother and I. He begged for -thee, and we did not dream--young girls sometimes do well to settle. He -seemed a wise man--" - -"Forgive me," cried Rose, wildly, and suddenly pushing him towards the -door, "and go away. I will not talk to Mr. Nimmo without thee." - -"Some day thou wilt thank me," said Agapit. "It is common to reproach -those who favor us. Left alone, thou wouldst rise early in the -morning,--thy handsome Vesper would whisper in thy ear, and I, rising, -might find thee convinced that there is nothing for thee but to submit -to the sacrilege of a divorce." - -Rose was not touched by his wistful tones. Her pretty fingers even -assisted him gently from the room, and, philosophically shrugging his -shoulders, he went to bed. - -Rose, left alone, pressed her empty arms and palpitating heart against -the bare walls of the next room. "You are good and noble,--you would do -nothing wrong. That wicked Agapit, he thinks evil of thee--" and, with -other fond and foolish words, she stood mutely caressing the wall until -fatigue overpowered her, when she undressed and crept into her lonely -bed. - -Agapit, who possessed a warm heart, an ardent imagination, and a lively -regard for the other sex, was at present without a love-affair of his -own, and his mind was therefore free to dwell on the troubles of Rose -and Vesper. All night long he dreamed of lovers. They haunted him, -tortured him with their griefs, misunderstandings, and afflictions, and, -rather glad than sorry to awake from his disturbed sleep, he lifted his -shaggy head from the pillow early in the morning and, vehemently shaking -it, muttered, "The devil himself is in those who make love." - -Then, with his protective instinct keenly alive, he sprang up and went -to the window, where he saw something that made him again mutter a -reference to the evil one. His window was directly over that of his -cousin, and although it was but daybreak, she was up and dressed, and -leaning from it to look at Vesper, who stood on the grass below. They -were not carrying on a conversation; she was true to the letter of her -promise, but this mute, unspoken dialogue was infinitely more -dangerous. - -Agapit groaned, and surveyed Vesper's glowing face. Who would dream that -he, so dignified, would condescend to this? Was it arranged through the -wall, or did he walk under her window and think of her until his -influence drew her from her bed? "I also have done such things," he -muttered; "possibly I may again, therefore I must be merciful." - -Vesper at this instant caught sight of his dishevelled head. Rose also -looked up, and Agapit retreated in dismay at the sound of their stifled -but irresistible laughter. - -"Ah, you do not cry all the time," he ejaculated, in confusion; then he -made haste to attire himself and to call for Rose, who demurely went -down-stairs with him and greeted Vesper with quiet and loving reserve. - -The two young men went with her to the kitchen, where she touched a -match to the fire. While it was burning she sat down and talked to them, -or, rather, they talked to her. The question was what to do with -Narcisse. - -"Madame de Forêt," said Vesper, softly, "I will tell you what I have -already told your cousin. I returned home unexpectedly a fortnight ago, -having in the interval missed a telegram from my mother, telling me that -your boy was in Boston. When I reached my own door, I saw to my surprise -the child of--of--" - -"Of the woman you love," thought Agapit, grimly. - -"Your child," continued Vesper, in some confusion, "who was kneeling on -the pavement before our house. He had dug a hole in the narrow circle of -earth left around the tree, and he was thrusting porridge and cream down -it, while the sparrows on the branches above watched him with interest. -Here in Sleeping Water we had about stopped that feeding of the trees; -but my mother, I found, indulged him in everything. He was glad to see -me, and I--I had dreaded the solitude of my home, and I quickly -discovered that it had been banished by his presence. He has effected a -transformation in my mother, and she wishes me to beg you that we may -keep him for a time." - -Agapit had never before heard Vesper speak at such length. He himself -was silent, and waited for some expression of opinion from Rose. - -She turned to him. "You remember what our doctor says when he looks over -my little one,--that he is weak, and the air of the Bay is too strong -for him?" - -"The doctors in Boston also say it," responded Vesper. "Mrs. Nimmo has -taken him to them." - -Rose flashed a glance of inexpressible gratitude at Vesper. - -"You wish him to remain in Boston?" said Agapit. - -"Yes, yes,--if they will be so kind, and if it is right that we allow -that they keep him for a time." - -Agapit reflected a minute. Could Rose endure the double blow of a -separation from her child and from her lover? Yes, he knew her well -enough to understand that, although her mother heart and her woman's -heart would be torn, she would, after the first sharp pang was over, -cheerfully endure any torture in order to contribute to the welfare of -the two beings that she loved best on earth. Narcisse would be benefited -physically by the separation, Vesper would be benefited mentally. He -knew, in addition, that a haunting dread of Charlitte possessed her. -Although he was a fickle, unfaithful man, the paternal instinct might -some day awake in him, and he would return and demand his child. Agapit -would not himself be surprised to see him reappear at any time in -Sleeping Water, therefore he said, shortly, "It is a good plan." - -"We can at least try it," said Vesper. "I will report how it works." - -"And while he is with you, you will have some instruction in his own -religion given him?" said Rose, timidly. - -"You need not mention that," said Vesper; "it goes without saying." - -Rose took a crucifix from her breast and handed it to him. "You will -give him that from his mother," she said, with trembling lips. - -Vesper held it in his hand for a minute, then he silently put it in his -pocket. - -There was a long pause, broken at last by Agapit, who said, "Will you -get the breakfast, Rose? Mr. Nimmo assured me that he wished to start at -once. Is it not so?" - -"Yes," said Vesper, shortly. - -Rose got up and went to the pantry. - -"Will you put the things on this table?" said Vesper. "And will not you -and Agapit have breakfast with me?" - -Rose nodded her head, and, with a breaking heart, she went to and fro, -her feet touching the hardwood floor and the rugs as noiselessly as if -there had been a death in the house. - -The two young men sat and stared at the stove or out the windows. Agapit -was anathematizing Vesper for returning to settle a matter that could -have been arranged by writing, and Vesper was alternately in a dumb fury -with Agapit for not leaving him alone with Rose, or in a state of -extravagant laudation because he did not do so. What a watch-dog he -was,--what a sure guardian to leave over his beautiful sweetheart! - -Dispirited and without appetite, the three at last assembled around the -table. Rose choked over every morsel that she ate, until, unable longer -to endure the trial, she left the table, and contented herself with -waiting upon them. - -Vesper was famished, having eaten so little the evening before, yet he -turned away from the toast and coffee and chops that Rose set before -him. - -"I will go now; Agapit, come to the gate with me. I want to speak to -you." - -Rose started violently. It seemed to her that her whole agitated, -overwrought soul had gone out to her lover in a shriek of despair, yet -she had not uttered a sound. - -Vesper could not endure the agony of her eyes. "Rose," he said, -stretching out his hands to her, "will you do as I wish?" - -"No," said Agapit, stepping between them. - -"Rose," said Vesper, caressingly, "shall I go to see Charlitte?" - -"Yes, yes," she moaned, desperately, and sinking to a chair, she dropped -her swimming head on the table. - -"No," said Agapit, again, "you shall not break God's laws. Rose is -married to Charlitte." - -Vesper tried to pass him, to assist Rose, who was half fainting, but -Agapit's burly form was immovable, and the furious young American lifted -his arm to strike him. - -"_Nâni_," said Agapit, tossing his arm in the air, "two blows from no -man for me," and he promptly knocked Vesper down. - -Rose, shocked and terrified, instantly recovered. She ran to her fallen -hero, bent over him with fond and distracted words, and when he -struggled to his feet, and with a red and furious face would have flown -at Agapit, she restrained him, by clinging to his arm. - -"Dear fools," said Agapit, "I would have saved you this humbling, but -you would not listen. It is now time to part. The doctor comes up the -road." - -Vesper made a superhuman effort at self-control, and passed his hand -over his eyes, to clear away the mists of passion. Then he looked -through the kitchen window. The doctor was indeed driving up to the inn. - -"Good-by, Rose," he exclaimed, "and do you, Agapit," and he surveyed the -Acadien in bitter resentment, "treat Charlitte as you have treated me, -if he comes for her." - -Even in her despair Rose reflected that they were parting in anger. - -"Vesper, Vesper,--most darling of men," she cried, wildly, detaining -him, "shake hands, at least." - -"I will not," he muttered, then he gently put her from him, and flung -himself from the room. - -"One does not forget those things," said Agapit, gloomily, and he -followed her out-of-doors. - -Vesper, staggering so that he could hardly mount his wheel, was just -about to leave the yard. Rose clung to the doorpost, and watched him; -then she ran to the gate. - -Down, down the Bay he went; farther, farther, always from her. First the -two shining wheels disappeared, then his straight blue back, then the -curly head with the little cap. She had lost him,--perhaps forever; and -this time she fainted in earnest, and Agapit carried her to the kitchen, -where the English doctor, who had been the one to attend Vesper, stood, -with a shrewd and pitying look on his weather-beaten face. - - - - - BOOK II. - - BIDIANE - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - A NEW ARRIVAL AT SLEEPING WATER. - - "But swift or slow the days will pass, - The longest night will have a morn, - And to each day is duly born - A night from Time's inverted glass." - - --_Aminta._ - - -Five years have passed away,--five long years. Five times the Acadien -farmers have sown their seeds. Five times they have gathered their -crops. Five times summer suns have smiled upon the Bay, and five times -winter winds have chilled it. And five times five changes have there -been in Sleeping Water, though it is a place that changes little. - -Some old people have died, some new ones have been born, but chief among -all changes has been the one effected by the sometime presence, and now -always absence, of the young Englishman from Boston, who had come so -quietly among the Acadiens, and had gone so quietly, and yet whose -influence had lingered, and would always linger among them. - -In the first place, Rose à Charlitte had given up the inn. Shortly -after the Englishman had gone away, her uncle had died, and had left -her, not a great fortune, but a very snug little sum of money--and with -a part of it she had built herself a cottage on the banks of Sleeping -Water River, where she now lived with Célina, her former servant, who -had, in her devotion to her mistress, taken a vow never to marry unless -Rose herself should choose a husband. This there seemed little -likelihood of her doing. She had apparently forsworn marriage when she -rejected the Englishman. All the Bay knew that he had been violently in -love with her, all the Bay knew that she had sent him away, but none -knew the reason for it. She had apparently loved him,--she had certainly -never loved any other man. It was suspected that Agapit LeNoir was in -the secret, but he would not discuss the Englishman with any one, and, -gentle and sweet as Rose was, there were very few who cared to broach -the subject to her. - -Another change had been the coming to Sleeping Water of a family from up -the Bay. They kept the inn now, and they were _protégés_ of the -Englishman, and relatives of a young girl that he and his mother had -taken away--away across the ocean to France some four years -before--because she was a badly brought up child, who did not love her -native tongue nor her father's people. - -It had been a wonderful thing that had happened to these Watercrows in -the coming of the Englishman to the Bay. His mission had been to search -for the heirs of Etex LeNoir, who had been murdered by his -great-grandfather at the time of the terrible expulsion, and he had -found a direct one in the person of this naughty little Bidiane. - -She had been a great trouble to him at first, it was said, but, under -his wise government, she had soon sobered down; and she had also brought -him luck, as much luck as a pot of gold, for, directly after he had -discovered her he--who had not been a rich young man, but one largely -dependent on his mother--had fallen heir to a large fortune, left to him -by a distant relative. This relative had been a great-aunt, who had -heard of his romantic and dutiful journey to Acadie, and, being touched -by it, and feeling assured that he was a worthy young man, she had -immediately made a will, leaving him all that she possessed, and had -then died. - -He had sought to atone for the sins of his forefathers, and had reaped a -rich reward. - -A good deal of the Englishman's money had been bestowed on these -Watercrows. With kindly tolerance, he had indulged a whim of theirs to -go to Boston when they were obliged to leave their heavily mortgaged -farm. It was said that they had expected to make vast sums of money -there. The Englishman knew that they could not do so, but that they -might cease the repinings and see for themselves what a great city -really was for poor people, he had allowed them to make a short stay in -one. - -The result had been that they were horrified; yes, absolutely -horrified,--this family transported from the wide, beautiful Bay,--at -the narrowness of the streets in the large city of Boston, at the rush -of people, the race for work, the general crowding and pushing, the -oppression of the poor, the tiny rooms in which they were obliged to -live, and the foul air which fairly suffocated them. - -They had begged the Englishman to let them come back to the Bay, even if -they lived only in a shanty. They could not endure that terrible city. - -He generously had given them the Sleeping Water Inn that he had bought -when Rose à Charlitte had left it, and there they had tried to keep a -hotel, with but indifferent success, until Claudine, the widow of -Isidore Kessy, had come to assist them. - -The Acadiens in Sleeping Water, with their keen social instincts, and -sympathetically curious habit of looking over, and under, and into, and -across every subject of interest to them, were never tired of discussing -Vesper Nimmo and his affairs. He had still with him the little Narcisse -who had run from the Bay five years before, and, although the Englishman -himself never wrote to Rose à Charlitte, there came every week to the -Bay a letter addressed to her in the handwriting of the young Bidiane -LeNoir, who, according to the instructions of the Englishman, gave Rose -a full and minute account of every occurrence in her child's life. In -this way she was kept from feeling lonely. - -These letters were said to be delectable, yes, quite delectable. Célina -said so, and she ought to know. - -The white-headed, red-coated mail-driver, who never flagged in his -admiration for Vesper, was just now talking about him. Twice a day -during the long five years had Emmanuel de la Rive flashed over the long -road to the station. Twice a day had this descendant of the old French -nobleman courteously taken off his hat to the woman who kept the -station, and then, placing it on his knee, had sat down to discuss -calmly and impartially the news of the day with her, in the ten minutes -that he allowed himself before the train arrived. He in the village, she -at the station, could most agreeably keep the ball of gossip rolling, so -that on its way up and down the Bay it might not make too long a -tarrying at Sleeping Water. - -On this particular July morning he was on his favorite subject. "Has it -happened to come to your ears," he said in his shrill, musical voice to -Madame Thériault, who, as of old, was rocking a cradle with her foot, -and spinning with her hands, "that there is talk of a great scheme that -the Englishman has in mind for having cars that will run along the -shores of the Bay, without a locomotive?" - -"Yes, I have heard." - -"It would be a great thing for the Bay, as we are far from these -stations in the woods." - -"It is my belief that he will some day return, and Rose will then marry -him," said the woman, who, true to the traditions of her sex, took a -more lively interest in the affairs of the heart than in those connected -with means of transportation. - -"It is evident that she does not wish to marry now," he said, modestly. - -"She lives like a nun. It is incredible; she is young, yet she thinks -only of good works." - -"At least, her heart is not broken." - -"Hearts do not break when one has plenty of money," said Madame -Thériault, wisely. - -"If it were not for the child, I daresay that she would become a holy -woman. Did you hear that the family with typhoid fever can at last leave -her house?" - -"Yes, long ago,--ages." - -"I heard only this morning," he said, dejectedly, then he brightened, -"but it was told to me that it is suspected that the young Bidiane -LeNoir will come back to the Bay this summer." - -"Indeed,--can that be so?" - -"It is quite true, I think. I had it from the blacksmith, whose wife -Perside heard it from Célina." - -"Who had it from Rose--_eh bonn! eh bonn! eh bonn!_" (_Eh bien!_--well, -well, well). "The young girl is now old enough to marry. Possibly the -Englishman will marry her." - -Emmanuel's fine face flushed, and his delicate voice rose high in -defence of his adored Englishman. "No, no; he does not change, that -one,--not more so than the hills. He waits like Gabriel for Evangeline. -This is also the opinion of the Bay. You are quite alone--but hark! is -that the train?" and clutching his mail-bag by its long neck, he slipped -to the kitchen door, which opened on the platform of the station. - -Yes; it was indeed the Flying Bluenose, coming down the straight track -from Pointe à l'Eglise, with a shrill note of warning. - -Emmanuel hurried to the edge of the platform, and extended his mail-bag -to the clerk in shirt-sleeves, who leaned from the postal-car to take -it, and to hand him one in return. Then, his duty over, he felt himself -free to take observations of any passengers that there might be for -Sleeping Water. - -There was just one, and--could it be possible--could he believe the -evidence of his eyesight--had the little wild, red-haired apostate from -up the Bay at last come back, clothed and in her right mind? He made a -mute, joyous signal to the station woman who stood in the doorway, then -he drew a little nearer to the very composed and graceful girl who had -just been assisted from the train, with great deference, by a youthful -conductor. - -"Are my trunks all out?" she said to him, in a tone of voice that -assured the mail-man that, without being bold or immodest, she was quite -well able to take care of herself. - -The conductor pointed to the brakemen, who were tumbling out some -luggage to the platform. - -"I hope that they will be careful of my wheel," said the girl. - -"It's all right," replied the conductor, and he raised his arm as a -signal for the train to move on. "If anything goes wrong with it, send -it to this station, and I will take it to Yarmouth and have it mended -for you." - -"Thank you," said the girl, graciously; then she turned to Emmanuel, and -looked steadfastly at his red jacket. - -He, meanwhile, politely tried to avert his eyes from her, but he could -not do so. She was fresh from the home of the Englishman in Paris, and -he could not conceal his tremulous eager interest in her. She was not -beautiful, like flaxen-haired Rose à Charlitte, nor dark and statuesque, -like the stately Claudine; but she was _distinguée_, yes, -_très-distinguée_, and her manner was just what he had imagined that of -a true Parisienne would be like. She was small and dainty, and -possessed a back as straight as a soldier's, and a magnificent bust. Her -round face was slightly freckled, her nose was a little upturned, but -the hazy, fine mass of hair that surrounded her head was most -beauteous,--it was like the sun shining through the reddish meadow -grass. - -He was her servant, her devoted slave, and Emmanuel, who had never -dreamed that he possessed patrician instincts, bowed low before her, -"Mademoiselle, I am at your service." - -"_Merci, monsieur_" (thank you, sir), she said, with conventional -politeness; then in rapid and exquisite French, that charmed him almost -to tears, she asked, mischievously, "But I have never been here before, -how do you know me?" - -He bowed again. "The name of Mademoiselle Bidiane LeNoir is often on our -lips. Mademoiselle, I salute your return." - -[Illustration: "'MADEMOISELLE, I SALUTE YOUR RETURN.'"] - -"You are very kind, Monsieur de la Rive," she said, with a frank smile; -then she precipitated herself on a bed of yellow marigolds growing -beside the station house. "Oh, the delightful flowers!" - -"Is she not charming?" murmured Emmanuel, in a blissful undertone, to -Madame Thériault. "What grace, what courtesy!--and it is due to the -Englishman." - -Madame Thériault's black eyes were critically running over Bidiane's -tailor-made gown. "The Englishman will marry her," she said, -sententiously. Then she asked, abruptly, "Have you ever seen her -before?" - -"Yes, once, years ago; she was a little hawk, I assure you." - -"She will do now," and the woman approached her. "Mademoiselle, may I -ask for your checks." - -Bidiane sprang up from the flower bed and caught her by both hands. -"You are Madame Thériault--I know of you from Mr. Nimmo. Ah, it is -pleasant to be among friends. For days and days it has been -strangers--strangers--only strangers. Now I am with my own people," and -she proudly held up her red head. - -The woman blushed in deep gratification. "Mademoiselle, I am more than -glad to see you. How is the young Englishman who left many friends on -the Bay?" - -"Do you call him young? He is at least thirty." - -"But he was young when here." - -"True, I forgot that. He is well, very well. He is never ill now. He is -always busy, and such a good man--oh, so good!" and Bidiane clasped her -hands, and rolled her lustrous, tawny eyes to the sky. - -"And the child of Rose à Charlitte?" said Emmanuel, eagerly. - -"A little angel,--so calm, so gentle, so polite. If you could see him -bow to the ladies,--it is ravishing, I assure you. And he is always -spoiled by Mrs. Nimmo, who adores him." - -"Will he come back to the Bay?" - -"I do not know," and Bidiane's vivacious face grew puzzled. "I do not -ask questions--alas! have I offended you?--I assure you I was thinking -only of myself. I am curious. I talk too much, but you have seen Mr. -Nimmo. You know that beyond a certain point he will not go. I am -ignorant of his intentions with regard to the child. I am ignorant of -his mother's intentions; all I know is that Mr. Nimmo wishes him to be a -forester." - -"A forester!" ejaculated Madame Thériault, "and what is that trade?" - -Bidiane laughed gaily. "But, my dear madame, it is not a trade. It is a -profession. Here on the Bay we do not have it, but abroad one hears -often of it. Young men study it constantly. It is to take care of trees. -Do you know that if they are cut down, water courses dry up? In Clare we -do not think of that, but in other countries trees are thought useful -and beautiful, and they keep them." - -"Hold--but that is wonderful," said Emmanuel. - -Bidiane turned to him with a winning smile. "Monsieur, how am I to get -to the shore? I am eaten up with impatience to see Madame de Forêt and -my aunt." - -"But there is my cart, mademoiselle," and he pointed to the shed beyond -them. "I shall feel honored to conduct you." - -"I gladly accept your offer, monsieur. _Au revoir_, madame." - -Madame Thériault reluctantly watched them depart. She would like to keep -this gay, charming creature with her for an hour longer. - -"It is wonderful that they did not come to meet you," said Emmanuel, -"but they did not expect you naturally." - -"I sent a telegram from Halifax," said Bidiane, "but can you believe -it?--I was so stupid as to say Wednesday instead of Tuesday. Therefore -Madame de Forêt expects me to-morrow." - -"You advised her rather than Mirabelle Marie, but wherefore?" - -Bidiane shook her shining head. "I do not know. I did not ask; I did -simply as Mr. Nimmo told me. He arranges all. I was with friends until -this morning. Only that one thing did I do alone on the journey,--that -is to telegraph,--and I did it wrong," and a joyous, subdued peal of -laughter rang out on the warm morning air. - -Emmanuel reverently assisted her into his cart, and got in beside her. -His blood had been quickened in his veins by this unexpected occurrence. -He tried not to look too often at this charming girl beside him, but, -in spite of his best efforts, his eyes irresistibly and involuntarily -kept seeking her face. She was so eloquent, so well-mannered; her -clothes were smooth and sleek like satin; there was a faint perfume of -lovely flowers about her,--she had come from the very heart and centre -of the great world into which he had never ventured. She was charged -with magic. What an acquisition to the Bay she would be! - -He carefully avoided the ruts and stones of the road. He would not for -the world give her an unnecessary shock, and he ardently wished that -this highway from the woods to the Bay might be as smooth as his desire -would have it. - -"And this is Sleeping Water," she said, dreamily. - -Emmanuel assured her that it was, and she immediately began to ply him -with questions about the occupants of the various farms that they were -passing, until a sudden thought flashed into her mind and made her -laughter again break out like music. - -"I am thinking--ah, me! it is really too absurd for anything--of the -astonishment of Madame de Forêt when I walk in upon her. Tell me, I beg -you, some particulars about her. She wrote not very much about herself." - -Emmanuel had a great liking for Rose, and he joyfully imparted to -Bidiane the most minute particulars concerning her dress, appearance, -conduct, daily life, her friends and surroundings. He talked steadily -for a mile, and Bidiane, whose curiosity seemed insatiable on the -subject of Rose, urged him on until he was forced to pause for breath. - -Bidiane turned her head to look at him, and immediately had her -attention attracted to a new subject. "That red jacket is charming, -monsieur," she said, with flattering interest. "If it is quite -agreeable, I should like to know where you got it." - -"Mademoiselle, you know that in Halifax there are many soldiers." - -"Yes,--English ones. There were French ones in Paris. Oh, I adore the -short blue capes of the military men." - -"The English soldiers wear red coats." - -"Yes, monsieur." - -"Sometimes they are sold when their bright surface is soiled. Men buy -them, and, after cleaning, sell them in the country. It is cheerful to -see a farmer working in a field clad in red." - -"Ah! this is one that a soldier used to wear." - -"No, mademoiselle,--not so fast. I had seen these red coats,--Acadiens -have always loved that color above others. I wished to have one; -therefore, when asked to sing at a concert many years ago, I said to my -sister, 'Buy red cloth and make me a red coat. Put trimmings on it.'" - -"And you sang in this?" - -"No, mademoiselle,--you are too fast again," and he laughed delightedly -at her precipitancy. "I sang in one long years ago, when I was young. -Afterwards, to save,--for we Acadiens do not waste, you know,--I wore it -to drive in. In time it fell to pieces." - -"And you liked it so much that you had another made?" - -"Exactly, mademoiselle. You have guessed it now," and his tones were -triumphant. - -Her curiosity on the subject of the coat being satisfied, she returned -to Rose, and finally asked a series of questions with regard to her -aunt. - -Her chatter ceased, however, when they reached the Bay, and, overcome -with admiration, she gazed silently at the place where - - From shore to shore the shining waters lay, - Beneath the sun, as placid as a cheek. - -Emmanuel, discovering that her eyes were full of tears, delicately -refrained from further conversation until they reached the corner, when -he asked, softly, "To the inn, or to Madame de Forêt's?" - -Bidiane started. "To Madame de Forêt's--no, no, to the inn, otherwise my -aunt might be offended." - -He drew up before the veranda, where Mirabelle Marie and Claude both -happened to be standing. There were at first incredulous glances, then a -great burst of noise from the woman and an amazed grunt from the man. - -Bidiane flew up the steps and embraced them, and Emmanuel lingered on in -a trance of ecstasy. He could not tear himself away, and did not attempt -to do so until the trio vanished into the house. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - BIDIANE GOES TO CALL ON ROSE À CHARLITTE. - - "Love duty, ease your neighbor's load, - Learn life is but an episode, - And grateful peace will fill your mind." - - AMINTA. ARCHBISHOP O'BRIEN. - - -Mirabelle Marie and her husband seated themselves in the parlor with -Bidiane close beside them. - -"You're only a mite of a thing yet," shrieked Mrs. Watercrow, "though -you've growed up; but _sakerjé_! how fine, how fine,--and what a shiny -cloth in your coat! How much did that cost?" - -"Do not scream at me," said Bidiane, good-humoredly. "I still hear -well." - -Claude à Sucre roared in a stentorian voice, and clapped his knee. "She -comes home Eenglish,--quite Eenglish." - -"And the Englishman,--he is still rich," said Mirabelle Marie, greedily, -and feeling not at all snubbed. "Does he wear all the time a collar with -white wings and a split coat?" - -"But you took much money from him," said Bidiane, reproachfully. - -"Oh, that Boston,--that divil's hole!" vociferated Mirabelle Marie. "We -did not come back some first-class Yankees _whitewashés_. No, no, we are -French now,--you bet! When I was a young one my old mother used to ketch -flies between her thumb and finger. She'd say, '_Je te squeezerai_'" (I -will squeeze you). "Well, we were the flies, Boston was my old mother. -But you've been in cities, Biddy Ann; you know 'em." - -"Ah! but I was not poor. We lived in a beautiful quarter in Paris,--and -do not call me Biddy Ann; my name is Bidiane." - -"Lord help us,--ain't she stylish!" squealed her delighted aunt. "Go on, -Biddy, tell us about the fine ladies, and the elegant frocks, and the -dimens; everythin' shines, ain't that so? Did the Englishman shove a -dollar bill in yer hand every day?" - -"No, he did not," said Bidiane, with dignity. "I was only a little girl -to him. He gave me scarcely any money to spend." - -"Is he goin' to marry yer,--say now, Biddy, ain't that so?" - -Bidiane's quick temper asserted itself. "If you don't stop being so -vulgar, I sha'n't say another word to you." - -"Aw, shut up, now," said Claude, remonstratingly, to his wife. - -Mrs. Watercrow was slightly abashed. "I don't go for to make yeh mad," -she said, humbly. - -"No, no, of course you did not," said the girl, in quick compunction, -and she laid one of her slim white hands on Mirabelle Marie's fat brown -ones. "I should not have spoken so hastily." - -"Look at that,--she's as meek as a cat," said the woman, in surprise, -while her husband softly caressed Bidiane's shoulder. - -"The Englishman, as you call him, does not care much for women," Bidiane -went on, gently. "Now that he has money he is much occupied, and he -always has men coming to see him. He often went out with his mother, but -rarely with me or with any ladies. He travels, too, and takes Narcisse -with him; and now, tell me, do you like being down the Bay?" - -Her aunt shrugged her shoulders. "A long sight more'n Boston." - -"Why did you give up the farm?" said the girl to Claude; "the old farm -that belonged to your grandfather." - -"I be a fool, an' I don' know it teel long after," said Claude, slowly. - -"And you speak French here,--the boys, have they learned it?" - -"You bet,--they learned in Boston from _Acajens_. Biddy, what makes yeh -come back? Yer a big goose not to stay with the Englishman." - -Bidiane surveyed her aunt disapprovingly. "Could I live always depending -on him? No, I wish to work hard, to earn some money,--and you, are you -not going to pay him for this fine house?" - -"God knows, he has money enough." - -"But we mus' pay back," said Claude, smiting the table with his fist. "I -ain't got much larnin', but I've got a leetle idee, an' I tell you, -maw,--don' you spen' the money in that stockin'." - -His wife's fat shoulders shook in a hearty laugh. - -His face darkened. "You give that to Biddy." - -"Yes," said his niece, "give it to me. Come now, and get it, and show me -the house." - -Mrs. Watercrow rose resignedly, and preceded the girl to the kitchen. -"Let's find Claudine. She's a boss cook, mos' as good as Rose à -Charlitte. Biddy, be you goin' to stay along of us?" - -"I don't know," said the girl, gaily. "Will you have me?" - -"You bet! Biddy,"--and she lowered her voice,--"you know 'bout Isidore?" - -The girl shuddered. "Yes." - -"It was drink, drink, drink, like a fool. One day, when he works back in -the woods with some of those Frenchmen out of France, he go for to do -like them, an' roast a frog on the biler in the mill ingine. His brain -overswelled, overfoamed, an' he fell agin the biler. Then he was dead." - -"Hush,--don't talk about him; Claudine may hear you." - -"How,--you know her?" - -"I know everybody. Mr. Nimmo and his mother talked so often of the Bay. -They do not wish Narcisse to forget." - -"That's good. Does the Englishman's maw like the little one?" - -"Yes, she does." - -"Claudine ain't here," and Mirabelle Marie waddled through the kitchen, -and directed her sneaks to the back stairway. "We'll skip up to her -room." - -Bidiane followed her, but when Mrs. Watercrow would have pushed open the -door confronting them, she caught her hand. - -"The divil," said her surprised relative, "do you want to scare the life -out of me?" - -"Knock," said Bidiane, "always, always at the door of a bedroom or a -private room, but not at that of a public one such as a parlor." - -"Am I English?" exclaimed Mirabelle Marie, drawing back and regarding -her in profound astonishment. - -"No, but you are going to be,--or rather you are going to be a polite -Frenchwoman," said Bidiane, firmly. - -Mirabelle Marie laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. She had just -had presented to her, in the person of Bidiane, a delicious and -first-class joke. - -Claudine came out of her room, and silently stared at them until Bidiane -took her hand, when her handsome, rather sullen face brightened -perceptibly. - -Bidiane liked her, and some swift and keen perception told her that in -the young widow she would find a more apt pupil and a more congenial -associate than in her aunt. She went into the room, and, sitting down by -the window, talked at length to her of Narcisse and the Englishman. - -At last she said, "Can you see Madame de Forêt's house from here?" - -Mirabelle Marie, who had squatted comfortably on the bed, like an -enormous toad, got up and toddled to the window. "It's there ag'in those -pines back of the river. There's no other sim'lar." - -Bidiane glanced at the cool white cottage against its green background. -"Why, it is like a tiny Grand Trianon!" - -"An' what's that?" - -"It is a villa near Paris, a very fine one, built in the form of a -horseshoe." - -"Yes,--that's what we call it," interrupted her aunt. "We ain't blind. -We say the horseshoe cottage." - -"One of the kings of France had the Grand Trianon built for a woman he -loved," said Bidiane, reverently. "I think Mr. Nimmo must have sent the -plan for this from Paris,--but he never spoke to me about it." - -"He is not a man who tells all," said Claudine, in French. - -Bidiane and Mirabelle Marie had been speaking English, but they now -reverted to their own language. - -"When do you have lunch?" asked Bidiane. - -"Lunch,--what's that?" asked her aunt. "We have dinner soon." - -"And I must descend," said Claudine, hurrying down-stairs. "I smell -something burning." - -Bidiane was about to follow her, when there was a clattering heard on -the stairway. - -"It's the young ones," cried Mirabelle Marie, joyfully. "Some fool has -told 'em. They'll wring your neck like the blowpipe of a chicken." - -The next minute two noisy, rough, yet slightly shy boys had taken -possession of their returned cousin and were leading her about the inn -in triumph. - -Mirabelle Marie tried to keep up with them, but could not succeed in -doing so. She was too excited to keep still, too happy to work, so she -kept on waddling from one room to another, to the stable, the garden, -and even to the corner,--to every spot where she could catch a glimpse -of the tail of Bidiane's gown, or the heels of her twinkling shoes. The -girl was indefatigable; she wished to see everything at once. She would -wear herself out. - -Two hours after lunch she announced her determination to call on Rose. - -"I'll skip along, too," said her aunt, promptly. - -"I wish to be quite alone when I first see this wonderful woman," said -Bidiane. - -"But why is she wonderful?" asked Mirabelle Marie. - -Bidiane did not hear her. She had flitted out to the veranda, wrapping a -scarf around her shoulders as she went. While her aunt stood gazing -longingly after her, she tripped up the village street, enjoying -immensely the impression she created among the women and children, who -ran to the doorways and windows to see her pass. - -There were no houses along the cutting in the hill through which the -road led to the sullen stream of Sleeping Water. Rose's house stood -quite alone, and at some distance from the street, its gleaming, freshly -painted front towards the river, its curved back against a row of -pine-trees. - -It was very quiet. There was not a creature stirring, and the warm July -sunshine lay languidly on some deserted chairs about a table on the -lawn. - -Bidiane went slowly up to the hall door and rang the bell. - -Rosy-cheeked Célina soon stood before her; and smiling a welcome, for -she knew very well who the visitor was, she gently opened the door of a -long, narrow blue and white room on the right side of the hall. - -Bidiane paused on the threshold. This dainty, exquisite apartment, -furnished so simply, and yet so elegantly, had not been planned by an -architect or furnished by a decorator of the Bay. This bric-à-brac, too, -was not Acadien, but Parisian. Ah, how much Mr. Nimmo loved Rose à -Charlitte! and she drew a long breath and gazed with girlish and -fascinated awe at the tall, beautiful woman who rose from a low seat, -and slowly approached her. - -Rose was about to address her, but Bidiane put up a protesting hand. -"Don't speak to me for a minute," she said, breathlessly. "I want to -look at you." - -Rose smiled indulgently, and Bidiane gazed on. She felt herself to be a -dove, a messenger sent from a faithful lover to the woman he worshipped. -What a high and holy mission was hers! She trembled blissfully, then, -one by one, she examined the features of this Acadien beauty, whose -quiet life had kept her from fading or withering in the slightest -degree. She was, indeed, "a rose of dawn." - -These were the words written below the large painting of her that hung -in Mr. Nimmo's room. She must tell Rose about it, although of course -the picture and the inscription must be perfectly familiar to her, -through Mr. Nimmo's descriptions. - -"Madame de Forêt," she said at last, "it is really you. Oh, how I have -longed to see you! I could scarcely wait." - -"Won't you sit down?" said her hostess, just a trifle shyly. - -Bidiane dropped into a chair. "I have teased Mrs. Nimmo with questions. -I have said again and again, 'What is she like?'--but I never could tell -from what she said. I had only the picture to go by." - -"The picture?" said Rose, slightly raising her eyebrows. - -"Your painting, you know, that is over Mr. Nimmo's writing-table." - -"Does he have one of me?" asked Rose, quietly. - -"Yes, yes,--an immense one. As broad as that,"--and she stretched out -her arms. "It was enlarged from a photograph." - -"Ah! when he was here I missed a photograph one day from my album, but I -did not know that he had taken it. However, I suspected." - -"But does he not write you everything?" - -"You only are my kind little correspondent,--with, of course, Narcisse." - -"Really, I thought that he wrote everything to you. Dear Madame de -Forêt, may I speak freely to you?" - -"As freely as you wish, my dear child." - -Bidiane burst into a flood of conversation. "I think it is so -romantic,--his devotion to you. He does not talk of it, but I can't help -knowing, because Mrs. Nimmo talks to me about it when she gets too -worked up to keep still. She really loves you, Madame de Forêt. She -wishes that you would allow her son to marry you. If you only knew how -much she admires you, I am sure you would put aside your objection to -her son." - -Rose for a few minutes seemed lost in thought, then she said, "Does Mrs. -Nimmo think that I do not care for her son?" - -"No, she says she thinks you care for him, but there is some objection -in your mind that you cannot get over, and she cannot imagine what it -is." - -"Dear little mademoiselle, I will also speak freely to you, for it is -well for you to understand, and I feel that you are a good friend, -because I have received so many letters from you. It is impossible that -I should marry Mr. Nimmo, therefore we will not speak of it, if you -please. There is an obstacle,--he knows and agrees to it. Years ago, I -thought some day this obstacle might be taken away. Now, I think it is -the will of our Lord that it remain, and I am content." - -"Oh, oh!" said Bidiane, wrinkling her face as if she were about to cry, -"I cannot bear to hear you say this." - -Rose smiled gently. "When you are older, as old as I am, you will -understand that marriage is not the chief thing in life. It is good, yet -one can be happy without. One can be pushed quietly further and further -apart from another soul. At first, one cries out, one thinks that the -parting will kill, but it is often the best thing for the two souls. I -tell you this because I love you, and because I know Mr. Nimmo has taken -much care in your training, and wishes me to be an elder sister. Do not -seek sorrow, little one, but do not try to run from it. This dear, dear -man that you speak of, was a divine being, a saint to me. I did wrong to -worship him. To separate from me was a good thing for him. He is now -more what I then thought him, than he was at the time. Do you -understand?" - -"Yes, yes," said Bidiane, breaking into tears, and impulsively throwing -herself on her knees beside her, "but you dash my pet scheme to pieces. -I wish to see you two united. I thought perhaps if I told you that, -although no one knows it but his mother, he just wor--wor--ships you--" - -Rose stroked her head. "Warm-hearted child,--and also loyal. Our Lord -rewards such devotion. Nothing is lost. Your precious tears remind me of -those I once shed." - -Bidiane did not recover herself. She was tired, excited, profoundly -touched by Rose's beauty and "sweet gravity of soul," and her perfect -resignation to her lot. "But you are not happy," she exclaimed at last, -dashing away her tears; "you cannot be. It is not right. I love to read -in novels, when Mr. Nimmo allows me, of the divine right of passion. I -asked him one day what it meant, and he explained. I did not know that -it gave him pain,--that his heart must be aching. He is so quiet,--no -one would dream that he is unhappy; yet his mother knows that he is, and -when she gets too worried, she talks to me, although she is not one-half -as fond of me as she is of Narcisse." - -A great wave of color came over Rose's face at the mention of her child. -She would like to speak of him at once, yet she restrained herself. - -"Dear little girl," she said, in her low, soothing voice, "you are so -young, so delightfully young. See, I have just been explaining to you, -yet you do not listen. You will have to learn for yourself. The -experience of one woman does not help another. Yet let me read to you, -who think it so painful a thing to be denied anything that one wants, a -few sentences from our good archbishop." - -Bidiane sprang lightly to her feet, and Rose went to a bookcase, and, -taking out a small volume bound in green and gold, read to her: -"'Marriage is a high and holy state, and intended for the vast majority -of mankind, but those who expand and merge human love in the divine, -espousing their souls to God in a life of celibacy, tread a higher and -holier path, and are better fitted to do nobler service for God in the -cause of suffering humanity.'" - -"Those are good words," said Bidiane, with twitching lips. - -"It is of course a Catholic view," said Rose; "you are a Protestant, and -you may not agree perfectly with it, yet I wish only to convince you -that if one is denied the companionship of one that is beloved, it is -not well to say, 'Everything is at an end. I am of no use in the -world.'" - -"I think you are the best and the sweetest woman that I ever saw," said -Bidiane, impulsively. - -"No, no; not the best," said Rose, in accents of painful humility. "Do -not say it,--I feel myself the greatest of sinners. I read my books of -devotion, I feel myself guilty of all,--even the blackest of crimes. It -seems that there is nothing I have not sinned in my thoughts. I have -been blameless in nothing, except that I have not neglected the baptism -of children in infancy." - -"You--a sinner!" said Bidiane, in profound scepticism. "I do not believe -it." - -"None are pure in the sight of our spotless Lord," said Rose, in -agitation; "none, none. We can only try to be so. Let me repeat to you -one more line from our archbishop. It is a poem telling of the struggle -of souls, of the search for happiness that is not to be found in the -world. This short line is always with me. I cannot reach up to it, I can -only admire it. Listen, dear child, and remember it is this only that is -important, and both Protestant and Catholic can accept it--'Walking on -earth, but living with God.'" - -Bidiane flung her arms about her neck. "Teach me to be good like you and -Mr. Nimmo. I assure you I am very bad and impatient." - -"My dear girl, my sister," murmured Rose, tenderly, "you are a gift and -I accept you. Now will you not tell me something of your life in Paris? -Many things were not related in your letters." - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - TAKEN UNAWARES. - - "Who can speak - The mingled passions that surprised his heart?" - - THOMSON. - - -Bidiane nothing loath, broke into a vivacious narrative. "Ah, that Mr. -Nimmo, I just idolize him. How much he has done for me! Just figure to -yourself what a spectacle I must have been when he first saw me. I was -ignorant,--as ignorant as a little pig. I knew nothing. He asked me if I -would go down the Bay to a convent. I said, quite violently, 'No, I will -not.' Then he went home to Boston, but he did not give me up. I soon -received a message. Would I go to France with him and his mother, for it -had been decided that a voyage would be good for the little Narcisse? -That dazzled me, and I said 'yes.' I left the Bay, but just fancy how -utterly stupid, how frightfully from out of the woods I was. I will give -one instance: When my uncle put me on the steamer at Yarmouth it was -late, he had to hurry ashore. He did not show me the stateroom prepared -for me, and I, dazed owl, sat on the deck shivering and drawing my -cloak about me. I thought I had paid for that one tiny piece of the -steamer and I must not move from it. Then a kind woman came and took me -below." - -"But you were young, you had never travelled, mademoiselle." - -"Don't say mademoiselle, say Bidiane,--please do, I would love it." - -"Very well, Bidiane,--dear little Bidiane." - -The girl leaned forward, and was again about to embrace her hostess with -fervent arms, but suddenly paused to exclaim, "I think I hear wheels!" - -She ran to one of the open windows. "Who drives a black buggy,--no, a -white horse with a long tail?" - -"Agapit LeNoir," said Rose, coming to stand beside her. - -"Oh, how is he? I hate to see him. I used to be so rude, but I suppose -he has forgiven me. Mrs. Nimmo says he is very good, still I do not -think Mr. Nimmo cares much for him." - -Rose sighed. That was the one stain on the character of the otherwise -perfect Vesper. He had never forgiven Agapit for striking him. - -"Why he looks quite smart," Bidiane rattled on. "Does he get on well -with his law practice?" - -"Very well; but he works hard--too hard. This horse is his only -luxury." - -"I detest white horses. Why didn't he get a dark one?" - -"I think this one was cheaper." - -"Is he poor?" - -"Not now, but he is economical. He saves his money." - -"Oh, he is a screw, a miser." - -"No, not that,--he gives away a good deal. He has had a hard life, has -my poor cousin, and now he understands the trials of others." - -"Poverty is tiresome, but it is sometimes good for one," said Bidiane, -wisely. - -Rose's white teeth gleamed in sudden amusement. "Ah, the dear little -parrot, she has been well trained." - -Bidiane leaned out the window. There was Agapit, peering eagerly forward -from the hood of his carriage, and staring up with some of the old -apprehensiveness with which he used to approach her. - -"What a dreadful child I was," reflected Bidiane, with a blush of shame. -"He is yet afraid of me." - -Agapit, with difficulty averting his eyes from her round, childish face -and its tangle of reddish hair, sprang from his seat and fastened his -horse to the post sunk in the grass at the edge of the lawn, while Rose, -followed by Bidiane, went out to meet him. - -"How do you do, Rose," he murmured, taking her hand in his own, while -his eyes ran behind to the waiting Bidiane. - -The girl, ladylike and modest, and full of contrition for her former -misdeeds, was yet possessed by a mischievous impulse to find out whether -her power over the burly, youthful, excitable Agapit extended to this -thinner, more serious-looking man, with the big black mustache and the -shining eye-glasses. - -"Ah, fanatic, Acadien imbecile," she said, coolly extending her fingers, -"I am glad to see you again." - -Though her tone was reassuring, Agapit still seemed to be overcome by -some emotion, and for a few seconds did not recover himself. Then he -smiled, looked relieved, and, taking a step nearer her, bowed -profoundly. "When did you arrive, mademoiselle?" - -"But you knew I was here," she said, gaily, "I saw it in your face when -you first appeared." - -Agapit dropped his eyes nervously. "He is certainly terribly afraid of -me," reflected Bidiane again; then she listened to what he was saying. - -"The Bay whispers and chatters, mademoiselle; the little waves that kiss -the shores of Sleeping Water take her secrets from her and carry them up -to the mouth of the Weymouth River--" - -"You have a telephone, I suppose," said Bidiane, in an eminently -practical tone of voice. - -"Yes, I have," and he relapsed into silence. - -"Here we are together, we three," said Bidiane, impulsively. "How I wish -that Mr. Nimmo could see us." - -Rose lost some of her beautiful color. These continual references to her -lover were very trying. "I will leave you two to amuse each other for a -few minutes, while I go and ask Célina to make us some tea _à -l'anglaise_." - -"I should not have said that," exclaimed Bidiane, gazing after her; "how -easy it is to talk too much. Each night, when I go to bed, I lie awake -thinking of all the foolish things I have said during the day, and I con -over sensible speeches that I might have uttered. I suppose you never do -that?" - -"Why not, mademoiselle?" - -"Oh, because you are older, and because you are so clever. Really, I am -quite afraid of you," and she demurely glanced at him from under her -curly eyelashes. - -"Once you were not afraid," he remarked, cautiously. - -"No; but now you must be very learned." - -"I always was fond of study." - -"Mr. Nimmo says that some day you will be a judge, and then probably you -will write a book. Will you?" - -"Some day, perhaps. At present, I only write short articles for -magazines and newspapers." - -"How charming! What are they about?" - -"They are mostly Acadien and historical." - -"Do you ever write stories--love stories?" - -"Sometimes, mademoiselle." - -"Delicious! May I read them?" - -"I do not know," and he smiled. "You would probably be too much amused. -You would think they were true." - -"And are they not?" - -"Oh, no, although some have a slight foundation of fact." - -Bidiane stared curiously at him, opened her lips, closed them again, set -her small white teeth firmly, as if bidding them stand guard over some -audacious thought, then at last burst out with it, for she was still -excited and animated by her journey, and was bubbling over with delight -at being released from the espionage of strangers to whom she could not -talk freely. "You have been in love, of course?" - -Agapit modestly looked at his boots. - -"You find me unconventional," cried Bidiane, in alarm. "Mrs. Nimmo says -I will never get over it. I do not know what I shall do,--but here, at -least, on the Bay, I thought it would not so much matter. Really, it was -a consolation in leaving Paris." - -"Mademoiselle, it is not that," he said, hesitatingly. "I assure you, -the question has been asked before, with not so much delicacy--But with -whom should I fall in love?" - -"With any one. It must be a horrible sensation. I have never felt it, -but I cry very often over tales of lovers. Possibly you are like Madame -de Forêt, you do not care to marry." - -"Perhaps I am waiting until she does, mademoiselle." - -"I suppose you could not tell me," she said, in the dainty, coaxing -tones of a child, "what it is that separates your cousin from Mr. -Nimmo?" - -"No, mademoiselle, I regret to say that I cannot." - -"Is it something she can ever get over?" - -"Possibly." - -"You don't want to be teased about it. I will talk of something else; -people don't marry very often after they are thirty. That is the -dividing line." - -Agapit dragged at his mustache with restless fingers. - -"You are laughing at me, you find me amusing," she said, with a sharp -look at him. "I assure you I don't mind being laughed at. I hate dull -people--oh, I must ask you if you know that I am quite Acadien now?" - -"Rose has told me something of it." - -"Yes, I know. She says that you read my letters, and I think it is -perfectly sweet in you. I know what you have done for me. I know, you -need not try to conceal it. It was you that urged Mr. Nimmo not to give -me up, it is to you that I am indebted for my glimpse of the world. I -assure you I am grateful. That is why I speak so freely to you. You are -a friend and also a relative. May we not call ourselves cousins?" - -"Certainly, mademoiselle,--I am honored," said Agapit, in a stumbling -voice. - -"You are not used to me yet. I overcome you, but wait a little, you will -not mind my peculiarities, and let me tell you that if there is anything -I can do for you, I shall be so glad. I could copy papers or write -letters. I am only a mouse and you are a lion, yet perhaps I could bite -your net a little." - -Agapit straightened himself, and stepped out rather more boldly as they -went to and fro over the grass. - -"I seem only like a prattling, silly girl to you," she said, humbly, -"yet I have a little sense, and I can write a good hand--a good round -hand. I often used to assist Mr. Nimmo in copying passages from books." - -Agapit felt like a hero. "Some day, mademoiselle, I may apply to you for -assistance. In the meantime, I thank you." - -They continued their slow walk to and fro. Sometimes they looked across -the river to the village, but mostly they looked at each other, and -Agapit, with acute pleasure, basked in the light of Bidiane's admiring -glances. - -"You have always stayed here," she exclaimed; "you did not desert your -dear Bay as I did." - -"But for a short time only. You remember that I was at Laval University -in Quebec." - -"Oh, yes, I forgot that. Madame de Forêt wrote me. Do you know, I -thought that perhaps you would not come back. However, Mr. Nimmo was not -surprised that you did." - -"There are a great many young men out in the world, mademoiselle. I -found few people who were interested in me. This is my home, and is not -one's home the best place to earn one's living?" - -"Yes; and also you did not wish to go too far away from your cousin. I -know your devotion, it is quite romantic. She adores you, I easily saw -that in her letters. Do you know, I imagined"--and she lowered her -voice, and glanced over her shoulder--"that Mr. Nimmo wrote to her, -because he never seemed curious about my letters from her." - -"That is Mr. Nimmo's way, mademoiselle." - -"It is a pity that they do not write. It would be such a pleasure to -them both. I know that. They cannot deceive me." - -"But she is not engaged to him." - -"If you reject a man, you reject him," said Bidiane, with animation, -"but you know there is a kind of lingering correspondence that decides -nothing. If the affair were all broken off, Mr. Nimmo would not keep -Narcisse." - -Agapit wrinkled his forehead. "True; yet I assure you they have had no -communication except through you and the childish scrawls of Narcisse." - -Bidiane was surprised. "Does he not send her things?" - -"No, mademoiselle." - -"But her furniture is French." - -"There are French stores in the States, and Rose travels occasionally, -you know." - -"Hush,--she is coming back. Ah! the adorable woman." - -Agapit threw his advancing cousin a glance of affectionate admiration, -and went to assist her with the tea things. - -Bidiane watched him putting the tray on the table, and going to meet -Célina, who was bringing out a teapot and cups and saucers. "Next to Mr. -Nimmo, he is the kindest man I ever saw," she murmured, curling herself -up in a rattan chair. "But we are not talking," she said, a few minutes -later. - -Rose and Agapit both smiled indulgently at her. Neither of them talked -as much as in former days. They were quieter, more subdued. - -"Let me think of some questions," said the girl. "Are you, Mr. LeNoir, -as furious an Acadien as you used to be?" - -Agapit fixed his big black eyes on her, and began to twist the ends of -his long mustache. "Mademoiselle, since I have travelled a little, and -mingled with other men, I do not talk so loudly and vehemently, but my -heart is still the same. It is Acadie forever with me." - -"Ah, that is right," she said, enthusiastically. "Not noisy talk, but -service for our countrymen." - -"Will you not have a cup of tea, and also tell us how you became an -Acadien?" said Agapit, who seemed to divine her secret thought. - -"Thank you, thank you,--yes, I will do both," and Bidiane's round face -immediately became transfigured,--the freckles almost disappeared. One -saw only "the tiger dusk and gold" of her eyes, and her reddish crown of -hair. "I will tell you of that noblest of men, that angel, who swept -down upon the Bay, and bore away a little owl in his pinions,--or -talons, is it?--to the marvellous city of Paris, just because he wished -to inspire the stupid owl with love for its country." - -"But the great-grandfather of the eagle, or, rather, the angel, killed -the great-grandfather of the owl," said Agapit; "do not forget that, -mademoiselle. Will you have a biscuit?" - -"Thank you,--suppose he did, that does not alter the delightfulness of -his conduct. Who takes account of naughty grandfathers in this prosaic -age? No one but Mr. Nimmo. And do we not put away from us--that is, -society people do--all those who are rough and have not good manners? -Did Mr. Nimmo do this? No, he would train his little Acadien owl. The -first night we arrived in Paris he took me with Narcisse for a fifteen -minutes' stroll along the Arcades of the Rue de Rivoli. I was overcome. -We had just arrived, we had driven through lighted streets to a -magnificent hotel. The bridges across the river gleamed with lights. I -thought I must be in heaven. You have read the descriptions of it?" - -"Of Paris,--yes," said Agapit, dreamily. - -"Every one was speaking French,--the language that I detested. I was -dumb. Here was a great country, a great people, and they were French. I -had thought that all the world outside the Bay was English, even though -I had been taught differently at school. But I did not believe my -teachers. I told stories, I thought that they also did. But to return to -the Rue de Rivoli,--there were the shops, there were the merchants. Now -that I have seen so much they do not seem great things to me, but -then--ah! then they were palaces, the merchants were kings and princes -offering their plate and jewels and gorgeous robes for sale. - -"'Choose,' said Mr. Nimmo to Narcisse and to me, 'choose some souvenir -to the value of three francs.' I stammered, I hesitated, I wished -everything, I selected nothing. Little Narcisse laid his finger on a -sparkling napkin-ring. I could not decide. I was intoxicated, and Mr. -Nimmo calmly conducted us home. I got nothing, because I could not -control myself. The next day, and for many days, Mr. Nimmo took us about -that wonderful city. It was all so ravishing, so spotless, so immense. -We did not visit the ugly parts. I had neat and suitable clothes. I was -instructed to be quiet, and not to talk loudly or cry out, and in time I -learned,--though at first I very much annoyed Mrs. Nimmo. Never, never, -did her son lose patience. Madame de Forêt, it is charming to live in a -peaceful, splendid home, where there are no loud voices, no unseemly -noises,--to have servants everywhere, even to push the chair behind you -at the table." - -"Yes, if one is born to it," said Rose, quietly. - -"But one gets born to it, dear madame. In a short time, I assure you, I -put on airs. I straightened my back, I no longer joked with the -servants. I said, quietly, 'Give me this. Give me that,'--and I disliked -to walk. I wished always to step in a carriage. Then Mr. Nimmo talked to -me." - -"What did he say?" asked Agapit, jealously and unexpectedly. - -"My dear sir," said Bidiane, drawing herself up, and speaking in her -grandest manner, "I beg permission to withhold from you that -information. You, I see, do not worship my hero as wildly as I do. I -address my remarks to your cousin," and she turned her head towards -Rose. - -They both laughed, and she herself laughed merrily and excitedly. Then -she hurried on: "I had a governess for a time, then afterwards I was -sent every day to a boarding-school near by the hotel where we lived. I -was taught many things about this glorious country of France, this land -from which my forefathers had gone to Acadie. Soon I began to be less -ashamed of my nation. Later on I began to be proud. Very often I would -be sent for to go to the _salon_ (drawing-room). There would be -strangers,--gentlemen and ladies to whom Mrs. Nimmo would introduce me, -and her son would say, 'This is a little girl from Acadie.' Immediately -I would be smiled on, and made much of, and the fine people would say, -'Ah, the Acadiens were courageous,--they were a brave race,' and they -would address me in French, and I could only hang my head and listen to -Mr. Nimmo, who would remark, quietly, 'Bidiane has lived among the -English,--she is just learning her own language.' - -"Ah, then I would study. I took my French grammar to bed, and one day -came the grand revelation. I of course had always attended school here -on the Bay, but you know, dear Madame de Forêt, how little Acadien -history is taught us. Mr. Nimmo had given me a history of our own people -to read. Some histories are dull, but this one I liked. It was late one -afternoon; I sat by my window and read, and I came to a story. You, I -daresay, know it," and she turned eagerly to Agapit. - -"I daresay, mademoiselle, if I were to hear it--" - -"It is of those three hundred Acadiens, who were taken from Prince -Edward Island by Captain Nichols. I read of what he said to the -government, 'My ship is leaking, I cannot get it to England.' Yet he was -forced to go, you know,--yet let me have the sad pleasure of telling you -that I read of their arrival to within a hundred leagues of the coast of -England. The ship had given out, it was going down, and the captain sent -for the priest on board,--at this point I ran to the fire, for daylight -faded. With eyes blinded by tears I finished the story,--the priest -addressed his people. He said that the captain had told him that all -could not be saved, that if the Acadiens would consent to remain quiet, -he and his sailors would seize the boats, and have a chance for their -lives. 'You will be quiet, my dear people,' said the priest. 'You have -suffered much,--you will suffer more,' and he gave them absolution. I -shrieked with pain when I read that they were quiet, very quiet,--that -one Acadien, who ventured in a boat, was rebuked by his wife so that he -stepped contentedly back to her side. Then the captain and sailors -embarked, they set out for the shore, and finally reached it; and the -Acadiens remained calmly on board. They went calmly to the bottom of the -sea, and I flung the book far from me, and rushed down-stairs,--I must -see Mr. Nimmo. He was in the _salon_ with a gentleman who was to dine -with him, but I saw only my friend. I precipitated myself on a chair -beside him. 'Ah, tell me, tell me!' I entreated, 'is it all true? Were -they martyrs,--these countrymen of mine? Were they patient and -afflicted? Is it their children that I have despised,--their religion -that I have mocked?' - -"'Yes, yes,' he said, gently, 'but you did not understand.' - -"'I understand,' I cried, 'and I hate the English. I will no longer be a -Protestant. They murdered my forefathers and mothers.' - -"He did not reason with me then,--he sent me to bed, and for six days I -went every morning to mass in the Madeleine. Then I grew tired, because -I had not been brought up to it, and it seemed strange to me. That was -the time Mr. Nimmo explained many things to me. I learned that, though -one must hate evil, there is a duty of forgiveness--but I weary you," -and she sprang up from her chair. "I must also go home; my aunt will -wonder where I am. I shall soon see you both again, I hope," and waving -her hand, she ran lightly towards the gate. - -"An abrupt departure," said Agapit, as he watched her out of sight. - -"She is nervous, and also homesick for the Nimmos," said Rose; "but what -a dear child. Her letters have made her seem like a friend of years' -standing. Perhaps we should have kept her from lingering on those -stories of the old time." - -"Do not reproach yourself," said Agapit, as he took another piece of -cake, "we could not have kept her from it. She was just about to -cry,--she is probably crying now," and there was a curious satisfaction -in his voice. - -"Are you not well to-day, Agapit?" asked Rose, anxiously. - -"_Mon Dieu_, yes,--what makes you think otherwise?" - -"You seem subdued, almost dull." - -Agapit immediately endeavored to take on a more sprightly air. "It is -that child,--she is overcoming. I was not prepared for such life, such -animation. She cannot write as she speaks." - -"No; her letters were stiff." - -"Without doubt, Mr. Nimmo has sent her here to be an amiable distraction -for you," said Agapit. "He is afraid that you are getting too holy, too -far beyond him. He sends this Parisian butterfly to amuse you. He has -plenty of money, he can indulge his whims." - -His tone was bitter, and Rose forbore to answer him. He was so good, -this cousin of hers, and yet his poverty and his long-continued struggle -to obtain an education had somewhat soured him, and he had not quite -fulfilled the promise of his earlier years. He was also a little jealous -of Vesper. - -If Vesper had been as generous towards him as he was towards other -people, Agapit would have kept up his old admiration for him. As it was, -they both possessed indomitable pride along different lines, and all -through these years not a line of friendly correspondence had passed -between them,--they had kept severely apart. - -But for this pride, Rose would have been allowed to share all that she -had with her adopted brother, and would not have been obliged to stand -aside and, with a heart wrung with compassion, see him suffer for the -lack of things that she might easily have provided. - -However, he was getting on better now. He had a large number of clients, -and was in a fair way to make a good living for himself. - -They talked a little more of Bidiane's arrival, that had made an unusual -commotion in their quiet lives, then Agapit, having lingered longer than -usual, hurried back to his office and his home, in the town of -Weymouth, that was some miles distant from Sleeping Water. - -A few hours later, Bidiane laid her tired, agitated head on her pillow, -after putting up a very fervent and Protestant petition that something -might enable her to look into the heart of her Catholic friend, Rose à -Charlitte, and discover what the mysterious obstacle was that prevented -her from enjoying a happy union with Mr. Nimmo. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - AN UNKNOWN IRRITANT. - - "Il est de ces longs jours d'indicible malaise - Où l'on voudrait dormir du lourd sommeil des morts, - De ces heures d'angoisse où l'existence pèse - Sur l'âme et sur le corps." - - -Two or three weeks went by, and, although Bidiane's headquarters were -nominally at the inn, she visited the horseshoe cottage morning, noon, -and night. - -Rose always smiled when she heard the rustling of her silk-lined skirts, -and often murmured: - - "Sa robe fait froufrou, froufrou, - Ses petits pieds font toc, toc, toc." - -"I wonder how long she is going to stay here?" said Agapit, one day, to -his cousin. - -"She does not know,--she obeys Mr. Nimmo blindly, although sometimes she -chatters of earning her own living." - -"I do not think he would permit that," said Agapit, hastily. - -"Nor I, but he does not tell her so." - -"He is a kind of _Grand Monarque_ among you women. He speaks, and you -listen; and now that Bidiane has broken the ice and we talk more freely -of him, I may say that I do not approve of his keeping your boy any -longer, although it is a foolish thing for me to mention, since you have -never asked my advice on the subject." - -"My dear brother," said Rose, softly, "in this one thing I have not -agreed with you, because you are not a mother, and cannot understand. I -feared to bring back my boy when he was delicate, lest he should die of -the separation from Mr. Nimmo. It was better for me to cry myself to -sleep for many nights than for me to have him for a few weeks, and then, -perhaps, lay his little body in the cold ground. Where would then be my -satisfaction? And now that he is strong, I console myself with the -thought of the fine schools that he attends, I follow him every hour of -the day, through the letters that Mr. Nimmo sends to Bidiane. As I dust -my room in the morning, I hold conversations with him. - -"I say, 'How goes the Latin, little one, and the Greek? They are hard, -but do not give up. Some day thou wilt be a clever man.' All the time I -talk to him. I tell him of every happening on the Bay. Naturally I -cannot put all this in my letters to him, that are few and short on -account of--well you know why I do not write too much. Agapit, I do not -dare to bring him back. He gives that dear young man an object in life; -he also interests his mother, who now loves me, through my child. I -speak of the schools, and yet it is not altogether for that, for have we -not a good college for boys here on the Bay? It is something higher. It -is for the good of souls that he stays away. Not yet, not yet, can I -recall him. It would not seem right, and I cannot do what is wrong; also -there is his father." - -Agapit, with a resigned gesture, drew on his gloves. He had been making -a short call and was just about to return home. - -"Are you going to the inn?" asked Rose. - -"Why should I call there?" he said, a trifle irritably. "I have not the -time to dance attendance on young girls." - -Rose was lost in gentle amazement at Agapit's recent attitude towards -Bidiane. Her mind ran back to the long winter and summer evenings when -he had come to her house, and had sat for hours reading the letters from -Paris. He had taken a profound interest in the little renegade. Step by -step he had followed her career. He had felt himself in a measure -responsible for the successful issue of the venture in taking her -abroad. And had he not often spoken delightedly of her return, and her -probable dissemination among the young people of the stock of new ideas -that she would be sure to bring with her? - -This was just what she had done. She had enlarged the circle of her -acquaintance, and every one liked her, every one admired her. Day after -day she flashed up and down the Bay, on the bicycle that she had brought -with her from Paris, and, as she flew by the houses, even the old women -left their windows and hobbled to the door to catch a gay salutation -from her. - -Only Agapit was dissatisfied, only Agapit did not praise her, and Rose -on this day, as she stood wistfully looking into his face, carried on an -internal soliloquy. It must be because she represents Mr. Nimmo. She has -been educated by him, she reveres him. He has only lent her to the Bay, -and will some day take her away, and Agapit, who feels this, is jealous -because he is rich, and because he will not forgive. It is strange that -the best of men and women are so human; but our dear Lord will some day -melt their hearts; and Rose, who had never disliked any one and had not -an enemy in the world, checked a sigh and endeavored to turn her -thoughts to some more agreeable subject. - -Agapit, however, still stood before her, and while he was there it was -difficult to think of anything else. Then he presently asked a -distracting question, and one that completely upset her again, although -it was put in a would-be careless tone of voice. - -"Does the Poirier boy go much to the inn?" - -Rose tried to conceal her emotion, but it was hard for her to do so, as -she felt that she had just been afforded a painful lightning glance into -Agapit's mind. He felt that he was growing old. Bidiane was associating -with the girls and young men who had been mere children five years -before. The Poirier boy, in particular, had grown up with amazing -rapidity and precociousness. He was handsomer, far handsomer than Agapit -had ever been, he was also very clever, and very much made of on account -of his being the most distinguished pupil in the college of Sainte-Anne, -that was presided over by the Eudist fathers from France. - -"Agapit," she said, suddenly, and in sweet, patient alarm, "are we -getting old, you and I?" - -"We shall soon be thirty," he said, gruffly, and he turned away. - -Rose had never before thought much on the subject of her age. Whatever -traces the slow, painful years had left on her inner soul, there were no -revealing marks on the outer countenance of her body. Her glass showed -her still an unruffled, peaceful face, a delicate skin, an eye undimmed, -and the same beautiful abundance of shining hair. - -"But, Agapit," she said, earnestly, "this is absurd. We are in our -prime. Only you are obliged to wear glasses. And even if we were old, it -would not be a terrible thing--there is too much praise of youth. It is -a charming time, and yet it is a time of follies. As for me, I love the -old ones. Only as we grow older do we find rest." - -"The follies of youth," repeated Agapit, sarcastically, "yes, such -follies as we have had,--the racking anxiety to find food to put in -one's mouth, to find sticks for the fire, books for the shelf. Yes, that -is fine folly. I do not wonder that you sigh for age." - -Rose followed him to the front door, where he stood on the threshold and -looked down at the river. - -"Some days I wish I were there," he said, wearily. - -Rose had come to the end of her philosophy, and in real alarm she -examined his irritated, disheartened face. "I believe that you are -hungry," she said at last. - -"No, I am not,--I have a headache. I was up all last night reading a -book on Commercial Law. I could not eat to-day, but I am not hungry." - -"You are starving--come, take off your gloves," she said, peremptorily. -"You shall have such a fine little dinner. I know what Célina is -preparing, and I will assist her so that you may have it soon. Go lie -down there in the sitting-room." - -"I do not wish to stay," said Agapit, disagreeably; "I am like a bear." - -"The first true word that you have spoken," she said, shaking a finger -at him. "You are not like my good Agapit to-day. See, I will leave you -for a time--Jovite, Jovite," and she went to the back door and waved -her hand in the direction of the stable. "Go take out Monsieur LeNoir's -horse. He stays to dinner." - -After dinner she persuaded him to go down to the inn with her. Bidiane -was in the parlor, sitting before a piano that Vesper had had sent from -Boston for her. Two young Acadien girls were beside her, and when they -were not laughing and exchanging jokes, they sang French songs, the -favorite one being "_Un Canadien Errant_," to which they returned over -and over again. - -Several shy young captains from schooners in the Bay were sitting tilted -back on chairs on the veranda, each one with a straw held between his -teeth to give him countenance. Agapit joined them, while Rose went in -the parlor and assisted the girls with their singing. She did not feel -much older than they did. It was curious how this question of age -oppressed some people; and she glanced through the window at Agapit's -now reasonably contented face. - -"I am glad you came with him," whispered Bidiane, mischievously. "He -avoids me now, and I am quite afraid of him. The poor man, he thought to -find me a blue-stocking, discussing dictionaries and encyclopædias; he -finds me empty-headed and silly, so he abandons me to the younger set, -although I admire him so deeply. You, at least, will never give me up," -and she sighed and laughed at the same time, and affectionately squeezed -Rose's hand. - -Rose laughed too. She was becoming more light-hearted under Bidiane's -half-nonsensical, half-sensible influence, and the two young Acadien -girls politely averted their surprised eyes from the saint who would -condescend to lay aside for a minute her crown of martyrdom. All the Bay -knew that she had had some trouble, although they did not know what it -was. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - BIDIANE PLAYS AN OVERTURE. - - "I've tried the force of every reason on him, - Soothed and caressed, been angry, soothed again." - - ADDISON. - - -A few days later, Bidiane happened to be caught in a predicament, when -none of her new friends were near, and she was forced to avail herself -of Agapit's assistance. - -She had been on her wheel nearly to Weymouth to make a call on one of -her numerous and newly acquired girl friends. Merrily she was gliding -homeward, and being on a short stretch of road bounded by hay-fields -that contained no houses, and fancying that no one was near her, she -lifted up her voice in a saucy refrain, "_L'homme qui m'aura, il n'aura -pas tout ce qu'il voudra_" (The man that gets me, will not get all he -wants). - -"_La femme qui m'aura, elle n'aura pas tout ce qu'elle voudra_" (The -woman that gets me, she'll not get all she wants), chanted Agapit, who -was coming behind in his buggy. - -Suddenly the girl's voice ceased; in the twinkling of an eye there had -been a rip, a sudden evacuation of air from one of the rubber tubes on -her wheel, and she had sprung to the road. - -"Good afternoon," said Agapit, driving up, "you have punctured a tire." - -"Yes," she replied, in dismay, "the wretched thing! If I knew which -wicked stone it was that did it, I would throw it into the Bay." - -"What will you do?" - -"Oh, I do not know. I wish I had leather tires." - -"I will take you to Sleeping Water, mademoiselle, if you wish." - -"But I do not care to cause you that trouble," and she gazed -mischievously and longingly up and down the road. - -"It will not be a trouble," he said, gravely. - -"Anything is a trouble that one does not enjoy." - -"But there is duty, mademoiselle." - -"Ah, yes, duty, dear duty," she said, making a face. "I have been -instructed to love it, therefore I accept your offer. How fortunate for -me that you happened to be driving by! Almost every one is haying. What -shall we do with the wheel?" - -"We can perhaps lash it on behind. I have some rope. No, it is too -large. Well, we can at least wheel it to the post-office in Belliveau's -Cove,--or stay, give me your wrench. I will take off the wheel, carry -it to Meteghan River, and have it mended. I am going to Chéticamp -to-night. To-morrow I will call for it and bring it to you." - -"Oh, you are good,--I did not know that there is a repair shop at -Meteghan River." - -"There is,--they even make wheels." - -"But the outside world does not know that. The train conductor told that -if anything went wrong with my bicycle, I would have to send it to -Yarmouth." - -"The outside world does not know of many things that exist in Clare. -Will you get into the buggy, mademoiselle? I will attend to this." - -Bidiane meekly ensconced herself under the hood, and took the reins in -her hands. "What are you going to do with the remains?" she asked, when -Agapit put the injured wheel in beside her. - -"We might leave them at Madame LeBlanc's," and he pointed to a white -house in the distance. "She will send them to you by some passing cart." - -"That is a good plan,--she is quite a friend of mine." - -"I will go on foot, if you will drive my horse." - -They at once set out, Bidiane driving, and Agapit walking silently along -the grassy path at the side of the road. - -The day was tranquil, charming, and a perfect specimen of "the divine -weather" that Saint-Mary's Bay is said to enjoy in summer. Earlier in -the afternoon there had been a soft roll of pearl gray fog on the Bay, -in and out of which the schooners had been slipping like phantom ships. -Now it had cleared away, and the long blue sweep of water was open to -them. They could plainly see the opposite shores of long Digby -Neck,--each fisherman's cottage, each comfortable farmhouse, each bit of -forest sloping to the water's edge. Over these hills hung the sun, hot -and glowing, as a sun should be in haying time. On Digby Neck the people -were probably making hay. Here about them there had been a general -desertion of the houses for work in the fields. Men, women, and children -were up on the slopes on their left, and down on the banks on their -right, the women's cotton dresses shining in gay spots of color against -the green foliage of the evergreen and hardwood trees that grew singly -or in groups about the extensive fields of grass. - -Madame LeBlanc was not at home, so Agapit pinned a note to the bicycle, -and left it standing outside her front gate with the comfortable -assurance that, although it might be the object of curious glances, no -one would touch it until the return of the mistress of the house. - -Then he entered the buggy, and, with one glance into Bidiane's eyes, -which were dancing with merriment, he took the reins from her and drove -on briskly. - -She stared at the magnificent panorama of purple hills and shining water -spread out before them, and, remembering the company that she was in, -tried to concentrate her attention on the tragic history of her -countrymen. Her most earnest effort was in vain; she could not do so, -and she endeavored to get further back, and con over the romantic -exploits of Champlain and De Monts, whose oddly shaped ships had -ploughed these waters; but here again she failed. Her mind came back, -always irresistibly back, from the ancient past to the man of modern -times seated beside her. - -She was sorry that he did not like her; she had tried hard to please -him. He really was wiser than any one she knew; could she not bring -about a better understanding with him? If he only knew how ignorant she -felt, how anxious she was to learn, perhaps he would not be so hard on -her. - -It was most unfortunate that she should have had on her bicycling dress. -She had never heard him speak against the wheel as a means of exercise, -yet she felt intuitively that he did not like it. He adored modest -women, and in bicycling they were absolutely forced to occasionally show -their ankles. Gradually and imperceptibly she drew her trim-gaitered -feet under her blue skirt; then she put up a cautious hand to feel that -her jaunty sailor hat was set straight on her coils of hair. Had he -heard, she wondered, that six other Acadien girls, inspired by her -example, were to have wheels? He would think that she had set the Bay -crazy. Perhaps he regarded it as a misfortune that she had ever come -back to it. - -If he were any other man she would be furiously angry with him. She -would not speak to him again. And, with an abrupt shrug of her -shoulders, she watched the squawking progress of a gull from the Bay -back to the woods, and then said, impulsively, "It is going to rain." - -Agapit came out of his reverie and murmured an assent. Then he looked -again into her yellowish brown, certainly charming eyes when full of -sunlight, as they were at present from their unwinking stare at the -bright sky. - -"Up the Bay, Digby Neck was our barometer," she said, thoughtfully. -"When it grew purple, we were to have rain. Here one observes the gulls, -and the sign never fails,--a noisy flight is rain within twenty-four -hours. The old gull is telling the young ones to stay back by the lake -in the forest, I suppose." - -Agapit tried to shake off his dreaminess and to carry on a conversation -with her, but failed dismally, until he discovered that she was choking -with suppressed laughter. - -"Oh, pardon, pardon, monsieur; I was thinking--ah! how delicious is -one's surprise at some things--I am thinking how absurd. You that I -fancied would be a brother--you almost as angelic as Mr. Nimmo--you do -not care for me at all. You try so hard, but I plague you, I annoy. But -what will you? I cannot make myself over. I talk all the Acadienism that -I can, but one cannot forever linger on the old times. You yourself say -that one should not." - -"So you think, mademoiselle, that I dislike you?" - -"Think it, my dear sir,--I know it. All the Bay knows it." - -"Then all the Bay is mistaken; I esteem you highly." - -"Actions speak louder than words," and her teasing glance played about -his shining glasses. "In order to be polite you perjure yourself." - -"Mademoiselle!" - -"I am sorry to be so terribly plain-spoken," she said, nodding her head -shrewdly, yet childishly. "But I understand perfectly that you think I -have a feather for a brain. You really cannot stoop to converse with me. -You say, 'Oh, that deceived Mr. Nimmo! He thinks he has accomplished a -wonderful thing. He says, "Come now, see what I have done for a child of -the Bay; I will send her back to you. Fall down and worship her."'" - -Agapit smiled despite himself. "Mademoiselle, you must not make fun of -yourself." - -"But why not? It is my chief amusement. I am the most ridiculous mortal -that ever lived, and I know how foolish I am; but why do you not -exercise your charity? You are, I hear, kind and forbearing with the -worst specimens of humanity on the Bay. Why should you be severe with -me?" - -Agapit winced as if she had pinched him. "What do you wish me to do?" - -"Already it is known that you avoid me," she continued, airily; "you who -are so much respected. I should like to have your good opinion, and, -ridiculous as I am, you know that I am less so than I used to be." - -She spoke with a certain dignity, and Agapit was profoundly touched. -"Mademoiselle," he said, in a low voice, "I am ashamed of myself. You do -not understand me, and I assert again that I do not dislike you." - -"Then why don't you come to see me?" she asked, pointedly. - -"I cannot tell you," he said, and his eyes blazed excitedly. "Do not -urge the question. However, I will come--yes, I will. You shall not -complain of me in future." - -Bidiane felt slightly subdued, and listened in silence to his energetic -remarks suddenly addressed to the horse, who had taken advantage of his -master's wandering attention by endeavoring to draw the buggy into a -ditch where grew some luscious bunches of grass. - -"There comes Pius Poirier," she said, after a time. - -The young Acadien was on horseback. His stolid, fine-featured face was -as immovable as marble, as he jogged by, but there was some play between -his violet eyes and Bidiane's tawny ones that Agapit did not catch, but -strongly suspected. - -"Do you wish to speak to him?" he inquired, coldly, when Bidiane -stretched her neck outside the buggy to gaze after him. - -"No," she said, composedly, "I only want to see how he sits his horse. -He is my first admirer," she added, demurely, but with irrepressible -glee. - -"Indeed,--I should fancy that mademoiselle might have had several." - -"What,--and I am only seventeen? You are crazy, my dear sir,--I am only -beginning that sort of thing. It is very amusing to have young men come -to see you; although, of course," she interpolated, modestly, "I shall -not make a choice for some years yet." - -"I should hope not," said her companion, stiffly. - -"I say I have never had an admirer; yet sometimes gay young men would -stare at me in the street,--I suppose on account of this red hair,--and -Mr. Nimmo would be very much annoyed with them." - -"A city is a wicked place; it is well that you have come home." - -"With that I console myself when I am sometimes lonely for Paris," said -Bidiane, wistfully. "I long to see those entrancing streets and parks, -and to mingle with the lively crowds of people; but I say to myself what -Mr. Nimmo often told me, that one can be as happy in one place as in -another, and home is the best of all to keep the heart fresh. 'Bidiane,' -he said, one day, when I was extolling the beauties of Paris, 'I would -give it all for one glimpse of the wind-swept shores of your native -Bay.'" - -"Ah, he still thinks that!" - -"Yes, yes; though I never after heard him say anything like it. I only -know his feelings through his mother." - -Agapit turned the conversation to other subjects. He never cared to -discuss Vesper Nimmo for any length of time. - -When they reached the Sleeping Water Inn, Bidiane hospitably invited him -to stay to supper. - -"No, thank you,--I must hurry on to Chéticamp." - -"Good-by, then; you were kind to bring me home. Shall we not be better -friends in future?" - -"Yes, yes," said Agapit, hurriedly. "I apologize, mademoiselle," and -jumping into his buggy, he drove quickly away. - -Bidiane's gay face clouded. "You are not very polite to me, sir. -Sometimes you smile like a sunbeam, and sometimes you glower like a -rain-cloud, but I'll find out what is the matter with you, if it takes -me a year. It is very discomposing to be treated so." - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - A SNAKE IN THE GRASS INTERFERES WITH THE EDUCATION OF MIRABELLE MARIE. - - "Fair is the earth and fair is the sky; - God of the tempest, God of the calm, - What must be heaven when here is such balm?" - - --_Aminta._ - - -Bidiane, being of a practical turn of mind, and having a tremendous fund -of energy to bestow upon the world in some way or other, was doing her -best to follow the hint given her by Vesper Nimmo, that she should, as a -means of furthering her education, spend some time at the Sleeping Water -Inn, with the object of imparting to Mirabelle Marie a few ideas -hitherto outside her narrow range of thought. - -Sometimes the girl became provoked with her aunt, sometimes she had to -check herself severely, and rapidly mutter Vesper's incantation, "Do not -despise any one; if you do, it will be at a great loss to yourself." - -At other times Bidiane had no need to think of the incantation. Her aunt -was so good-natured, so forgiving, she was so full of pride in her -young niece, that it seemed as if only the most intense provocation -could justify any impatience with her. - -Mirabelle Marie loved Bidiane almost as well as she loved her own -children, and it was only some radical measure, such as the changing of -her sneaks at sundown for a pair of slippers, or the sitting in the -parlor instead of the kitchen, that excited her rebellion. However, she -readily yielded,--these skirmishes were not the occurrences that vexed -Bidiane's soul. The renewed battles were the things that discouraged -her. No victory was sustained. Each day she must contend for what had -been conceded the day before, and she was tortured by the knowledge that -so little hold had she on Mirabelle Marie's slippery soul that, if she -were to leave Sleeping Water on any certain day, by the next one matters -would at once slip back to their former condition. - -"Do not be discouraged," Vesper wrote her. "The Bay was not built in a -day. Some of your ancestors lived in camps in the woods." - -This was an allusion on his part to the grandmother of Mrs. Watercrow, -who had actually been a squaw, and Bidiane, as a highly civilized being, -winced slightly at it. Very little of the Indian strain had entered her -veins, except a few drops that were exhibited in a passion for rambling -in the woods. She was more like her French ancestors, but her aunt had -the lazy, careless blood, as had also her children. - -One of the chief difficulties that Bidiane had to contend with, in her -aunt, was her irreligion. Mirabelle Marie had weak religious instincts. -She had as a child, and as a very young woman, been an adherent of the -Roman Catholic Church, and had obtained some grasp of its doctrines. -When, in order to become "stylish," she had forsaken this church, she -found herself in the position of a forlorn dog who, having dropped his -substantial bone, finds himself groping for a shadow. Protestantism was -an empty word to her. She could not comprehend it; and Bidiane, although -a Protestant herself, shrewdly made up her mind that there was no hope -for her aunt save in the church of her forefathers. However, in what way -to get her back to it,--that was the question. She scolded, entreated, -reasoned, but all in vain. Mirabelle Marie lounged about the house all -day Sunday, very often, strange to say, amusing herself with -declamations against the irreligion of the people of Boston. - -Bidiane's opportunity to change this state of affairs at last came, and -all unthinkingly she embraced it. - -The opportunity began on a hot and windy afternoon, a few days after her -drive with Agapit. She sat on the veranda reading, until struck by a -sudden thought which made her close her book, and glance up and down the -long road, to see if the flying clouds of dust were escorting any -approaching traveller to the inn. No one was coming, so she hastily left -the house and ran across the road to the narrow green field that lay -between the inn and the Bay. - -The field was bounded by straggling rows of raspberry bushes, and over -the bushes hung a few apple-trees,--meek, patient trees, their backs -bent from stooping before the strong westerly winds, their short, stubby -foliage blown all over their surprised heads. - -There was a sheep-pen in the corner of the field next the road, and near -it was a barred gate, opening on a winding path that led down to the -flat shore. Bidiane went through the gate, frowned slightly at a -mowing-machine left out-of-doors for many days by the careless Claude, -then laughed at the handle of its uplifted brake, that looked like a -disconsolate and protesting arm raised to the sky. - -All the family were in the hay field. Two white oxen drew the hay wagon -slowly to and fro, while Claudine and the two boys circled about it, -raking together scattered wisps left from the big cocks that Claude -threw up to Mirabelle Marie. - -The mistress of the house was in her element. She gloried in haying, -which was the only form of exercise that appealed in the least to her. -Her face was overspread by a grin of delight, her red dress fluttered in -the strong breeze, and she gleefully jumped up and down on top of the -load, and superimposed her fat jolly weight on the masses of hay. - -Bidiane ran towards them, dilating her small nostrils as she ran to -catch the many delicious odors of the summer air. The strong perfume of -the hay overpowered them all, and, in an intoxication of delight, she -dropped on a heap of it, and raised an armful to her face. - -A squeal from Claudine roused her. Her rake had uncovered a mouse's -nest, and she was busily engaged in killing every one of the tiny -velvety creatures. - -"But why do you do it?" asked Bidiane, running up to her. - -Claudine stared at her. She was a magnificent specimen of womanhood as -she stood in the blazing light of the sun, and Bidiane, even in the -midst of her subdued indignation, thought of some lines in the -Shakespeare that she had just laid down: - - "'Tis not your inky brows, your black silk hair, - Your bugle eyeballs, nor your cheek of cream, - That can entame my spirits to your worship." - -Claudine was carrying on a vigorous line of reasoning. She admired -Bidiane intensely, and she quietly listened with pleasure to what she -called her _rocamboles_ of the olden times, which were Bidiane's tales -of Acadien exploits and sufferings. She was a more apt pupil than the -dense and silly Mirabelle Marie. - -"If I was a mouse I wouldn't like to be killed," she said, presently, -going on with her raking; and Bidiane, having made her think, was -satisfied. - -"Now, Claudine," she said, "you must be tired. Give me your rake, and do -you go up to the house and rest." - -"Yes, go, Claudine," said Mirabelle Marie, from her height, "you look -drug out." - -"I am not tired," said Claudine, in French, "and I shall not give my -rake to you, Bidiane. You are not used to work." - -Bidiane bubbled over into low, rippling laughter. "I delicate,--ah, that -is good! Give me your rake, Claude. You go up to the barn now, do you -not?" - -Claude nodded, and extended a strong hand to assist his wife in sliding -to the ground. Then, accompanied by his boys, he jogged slowly after the -wagon to the barn, where the oxen would be unyoked, and the grasping -pitcher would lift the load in two or three mouthfuls to the mows. - -Bidiane threw down her rake and ran to the fence for some raspberries, -and while her hands were busy with the red fruit, her bright eyes kept -scanning the road. She watched a foot-passenger coming slowly from the -station, pausing at the corner, drifting in a leisurely way towards the -inn, and finally, after a glance at Mirabelle Marie's conspicuous gown, -climbing the fence, and moving deliberately towards her. - -"H'm--a snake in the grass," murmured Bidiane, keeping an eye on the new -arrival, and presently she, too, made her way towards her aunt and -Claudine, who had ceased work and were seated on the hay. - -"This is Nannichette," said Mirabelle Marie, somewhat apprehensively, -when Bidiane reached them. - -"Yes, I know," said the girl, and she nodded stiffly to the woman, who -was almost as fat and as easy-going as Mirabelle Marie herself. - -Nannichette was half Acadien and half English, and she had married a -pure Indian who lived back in the woods near the Sleeping Water Lake. -She was not a very desirable acquaintance for Mirabelle Marie, but she -was not a positively bad woman, and no one would think of shutting a -door against her, although her acquaintance was not positively sought -after by the scrupulous Acadiens. - -"We was gabbin' about diggin' for gold one day, Nannichette and I," said -Mirabelle Marie, insinuatingly. "She knows a heap about good places, and -the good time to dig. You tell us, Biddy,--I mean Bidiane,--some of yer -yarns about the lake. Mebbe there's some talk of gold in 'em." - -Bidiane sat down on the hay. If she talked, it would at least prevent -Nannichette from pouring her nonsense into her aunt's ear, so she -began. "I have not yet seen this lake of _L'Eau Dormante_, but I have -read of it. Long, long ago, before the English came to this province, -and even before the French came, there was an Indian encampment on the -shores of this deep, smooth, dark lake. Many canoes shot gaily across -its glassy surface, many camp-fires sent up their smoke from among the -trees to the clear, blue sky. The encampment was an old, old one. The -Indians had occupied it for many winters; they planned to occupy it for -many more, but one sweet spring night, when they were dreaming of summer -roamings, a band of hostile Indians came slipping behind the -tree-trunks. A bright blaze shot up to the clear sky, and the bosom of -Sleeping Water looked as if some one had drawn a bloody finger across -it. Following this were shrieks and savage yells, and afterward a -profound silence. The Indians left, and the shuddering trees grew closer -together to hide the traces of the savage invaders--no, the marks of -devastation," she said, stopping suddenly and correcting herself, for -she had a good memory, and at times was apt to repeat verbatim the words -of some of her favorite historians or story-tellers. - -"The green running vines, also," she continued, "made haste to spread -over the blackened ground, and the leaves fell quietly over the dead -bodies and warmly covered them. Years went by, the leaf-mould had -gathered thick over the graves of the Indians, and then, on a memorable -day, the feast of Sainte-Anne's, the French discovered the lovely, -silent Sleeping Water, the gem of the forest, and erected a fort on its -banks. The royal flag floated over the trees, a small space of ground -was cleared for the planting of corn, and a garden was laid out, where -seeds from old France grew and flourished, for no disturbing gales from -the Bay ever reached this sanctuary of the wildwood. - -"All went merrily as a marriage bell until one winter night, when the -bosom of the lake was frosted with ice, and the snow-laden branches of -the trees hung heavily earthward. Then, in the hush before morning, a -small detachment of men on snowshoes, arrayed in a foreign uniform, and -carrying hatchets in their hands--" - -"More Injuns!" gasped Mirabelle Marie, clapping her hand to her mouth in -lively distress at Bidiane's tragic manner. - -"No, no! I didn't say tomahawks," said Bidiane, who started nervously at -the interruption; "the hatchets weren't for killing,--they were to cut -the branches. These soldiers crept stealthily and painfully through the -underbrush, where broken limbs and prickly shrubs stretched out -detaining arms to hold them back; but they would not be held, for the -lust of murder was in their hearts. When they reached the broad and open -lake--" - -"You jist said it was frozen," interrupted the irrepressible Mirabelle -Marie. - -"I beg your pardon,--the ice-sealed sheet of water,--the soldiers threw -away their hatchets and unslung their guns, and again a shout of horror -went up to the clear vault of heaven. White men slew white men, for the -invaders were not Indians, but English soldiers, and there were streaks -of crimson on the snow where the French soldiers laid themselves down to -die. - -"There seemed to be a curse on the lake, and it was deserted for many -years, until a band of sorrowing Acadien exiles was forced to take -refuge in the half-ruined fort. They summered and wintered there, until -they all died of a strange sickness and were buried by one man who, -only, survived. He vowed that the lake was haunted, and would never be -an abode for human beings; so he came to the shore and built himself a -log cabin, that he occupied in fear and trembling until at last the time -came when the French were no longer persecuted." - -"Agapit LeNoir also says that the lake is haunted," exclaimed Claudine, -in excited French. "He hates the little river that comes stealing from -it. He likes the Bay, the open Bay. There is no one here that loves the -river but Rose à Charlitte." - -"But dere is gold dere,--heaps," said the visitor, in English, and her -eyes glistened. - -"Only foolish people say that," remarked Claudine, decidedly, "and even -if there should be gold there, it would be cursed." - -"You not think that," said Nannichette, shrinking back. - -"Oh, how stupid all this is!" said Bidiane. "Up the Bay I used to hear -this talk of gold. You remember, my aunt?" - -Mirabelle Marie's shoulders shook with amusement. "_Mon jheu_, yes, on -the stony Dead Man's Point, where there ain't enough earth to _fricasser -les cailloux_" (fricassee the pebbles); "it's all dug up like -graveyards. Come on, Nannichette, tell us ag'in of yer fantome." - -Nannichette became suddenly shy, and Mirabelle Marie took it upon -herself to be spokeswoman. "She was rockin' her baby, when she heard a -divil of a noise. The ceiling gapped at her, jist like you open yer -mouth, and a fantome voice says--" - -"'Dere is gole in Sleepin' Water Lake,'" interrupted Nannichette, -hastily. "'Only women shall dig,--men cannot fine.'" - -"An' Nannichette was squshed,--she fell ag'in the floor with her baby." - -"And then she ran about to see if she could find some women foolish -enough to believe this," said Bidiane, with fine youthful disdain. - -A slow color crept into Nannichette's brown cheek. "Dere is gole dere," -she said, obstinately. "De speerit tell me where to look." - -"That was Satan who spoke to you, Nannichette," said Claudine, -seriously; "or maybe you had had a little rum. Come now, hadn't you?" - -Nannichette scowled, while Mirabelle Marie murmured, with reverent -admiration, "I dessay the divil knows where there is lots of gold." - -"It drives me frantic to hear you discuss this subject," said Bidiane, -suddenly springing to her feet. "Oh, if you knew how ignorant it sounds, -how way back in the olden times! What would the people in Paris say if -they could hear you? Oh, please, let us talk of something else; let us -mention art." - -"What's dat?" asked Nannichette, pricking up her ears. - -"It is all about music, and writing poetry, and making lovely pictures, -and all kinds of elegant things,--it elevates your mind and soul. Don't -talk about hateful things. What do you want to live back in the woods -for? Why don't you come out to the shore?" - -"Dat's why I wan' de gole," said Nannichette, triumphantly. "Of'en I use -to hunt for some of Cap'en Kidd's pots." - -"Good gracious!" said Bidiane, with an impatient gesture, "how much -money do you suppose that man had? They are searching for his treasure -all along the coast. I don't believe he ever had a bit. He was a wicked -old pirate,--I wouldn't spend his money if I found it--" - -Mirabelle Marie and Nannichette surveyed each other's faces with -cunning, glittering eyes. There was a secret understanding between them; -no speech was necessary, and they contemplated Bidiane as two benevolent -wild beasts might survey an innocent and highly cultured lamb who -attempted to reason with them. - -Bidiane dimly felt her powerlessness, and, accompanied by Claudine, went -back to her raking, and left the two sitting on the hay. - -While the girl was undressing that night, Claudine tapped at her door. -"It is all arranged, Bidiane. They are going to dig." - -Bidiane impatiently shook her hanging mass of hair, and stamped her foot -on the floor. "They shall not." - -"Nannichette did not go away," continued Claudine. "She hung about the -stable, and Mirabelle Marie took her up some food. I was feeding the -pig, and I overheard whispering. They are to get some women together, -and Nannichette will lead them to the place the spirit told her of." - -"Oh, the simpleton! She shall not come here again, and my aunt shall not -accompany her--but where do they wish to go?" - -"To the Sleeping Water Lake." - -"Claudine, you know there is no gold there. The Indians had none, the -French had none,--where would the poor exiles get it?" - -"All this is reasonable, but there are people who are foolish,--always -foolish. I tell you, this seeking for gold is like a fever. One catches -it from another. I had an uncle who thought there was a treasure hid on -his farm; he dug it all over, then he went crazy." - -Bidiane's head, that, in the light of her lamp, had turned to a dull -red-gold, sank on her breast. "I have it," she said at last, flinging it -up, and choking with irrepressible laughter. "Let them go,--we will play -them a trick. Nothing else will cure my aunt. Listen,--" and she laid a -hand on the shoulder of the young woman confronting her, and earnestly -unfolded a primitive plan. - -Claudine at once fell in with it. She had never yet disapproved of a -suggestion of Bidiane, and after a time she went chuckling to bed. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - GHOSTS BY SLEEPING WATER. - - "Which apparition, it seems, was you." - - --_Tatler._ - - -The next day Claudine's left eyelid trembled in Bidiane's direction. - -The girl followed her to the pantry, where she heard, murmured over a -pan of milk, "They go to-night, as soon as it is dark,--Mirabelle Marie, -Suretta, and Mosée-Délice." - -"Very well," said Bidiane, curling her lip, "we will go too." - -Accordingly, that evening, when Mirabelle Marie clapped her rakish hat -on her head,--for nothing would induce her to wear a handkerchief,--and -said that she was going to visit a sick neighbor, Bidiane demurely -commended her thoughtfulness, and sent an affecting message to the -invalid. - -However, the mistress of the inn had no sooner disappeared than her -younger helpmeets tied black handkerchiefs on their heads, and slipped -out to the yard, each carrying a rolled-up sheet and a paper of pins. -With much suppressed laughter they glided up behind the barn, and -struck across the fields to the station road. When half-way there, -Bidiane felt something damp and cold touch her hand, and, with a start -and a slight scream, discovered that her uncle's dog, Bastarache, in -that way signified his wish to join the expedition. - -"Come, then, good dog," she said, in French, for he was a late -acquisition and, having been brought up in the woods, understood no -English, "thou, too, shalt be a ghost." - -It was a dark, furiously windy night, for the hot gale that had been -blowing over the Bay for three days was just about dying away with a -fiercer display of energy than before. - -The stars were out, but they did not give much light, and Bidiane and -Claudine had only to stand a little aside from the road, under a group -of spruces, in order to be completely hidden from the three women as -they went tugging by. They had met at the corner, and, in no fear of -discovery, for the night was most unpleasant and there were few people -stirring, they trudged boldly on, screaming neighborhood news at the top -of their voices, in order to be heard above the noise of the wind. - -Bidiane and Claudine followed them at a safe distance. "_Mon Dieu_, but -Mirabelle Marie's fat legs will ache to-morrow," said Claudine, "she -that walks so little." - -"If it were an honest errand that she was going on, she would have asked -for the horse. As it is, she was ashamed to do so." - -The three women fairly galloped over the road to the station, for, at -first, both tongues and heels were excited, and even Mirabelle Marie, -although she was the only fat one of the party, managed to keep up with -the others. - -To Claudine, Bidiane, and the dog, the few miles to the station were a -mere bagatelle. However, after crossing the railway track, they were -obliged to go more slowly, for the three in front had begun to flag. -They also had stopped gossiping, and when an occasional wagon -approached, they stepped into the bushes beside the road until it had -passed by. - -The dog, in great wonderment of mind, chafed at the string that Bidiane -took from her pocket and fastened around his neck. He scented his -mistress on ahead, and did not understand why the two parties might not -be amicably united. - -A mile beyond the station, the three gold-seekers left the main road and -plunged into a rough wood-track that led to the lake. Here the darkness -was intense; the trees formed a thick screen overhead, through which -only occasional glimpses of a narrow lane of stars could be obtained. - -"This is terrible," gasped Bidiane, as her foot struck a root; "lift -your feet high, Claudine." - -Claudine gave her a hand. She was almost hysterical from listening to -the groaning on ahead. "Since the day of my husband's death, I have not -laughed so much," she said, winking away the nervous tears in her eyes. -"I do not love fun as much as some people, but when I laugh, I laugh -hard." - -"My aunt will be in bed to-morrow," sighed Bidiane; "what a pity that -she is such a goose." - -"She is tough," giggled Claudine, "do not disturb yourself. It is you -that I fear for." - -At last, the black, damp, dark road emerged on a clearing. There stood -the Indian's dwelling,--small and yellow, with a fertile garden before -it, and a tiny, prosperous orchard at the back. - -"You must enter this house some day," whispered Claudine. "Everything -shines there, and they are well fixed. Nannichette has a sewing-machine, -and a fine cook-stove, and when she does not help her husband make -baskets, she sews and bakes." - -"Will her husband approve of this expedition?" - -"No, no, he must have gone to the shore, or Nannichette would not -undertake it,--listen to what Mirabelle Marie says." - -The fat woman had sunk exhausted on the doorstep of the yellow house. -"Nannichette, I be _dèche_ if I go a step furder, till you gimme -_checque chouse pour mouiller la langue_" (give me something to wet my -tongue). - -"All right," said Nannichette, in the soft, drawling tones that she had -caught from the Indians, and she brought her out a pitcher of milk. - -Mirabelle Marie put the pitcher to her lips, and gurgled over the milk a -joyful thanksgiving that she had got away from the rough road, and the -rougher wind, that raged like a bull; then she said, "Your husband is -away?" - -"No," said Nannichette, in some embarrassment, "he ain't, but come in." - -Mirabelle Marie rose, and with her companions went into the house, while -Bidiane and Claudine crept to the windows. - -"Dear me, this is the best Indian house that I ever saw," said Bidiane, -taking a survey, through the cheap lace curtains, of the sewing-machine, -the cupboard of dishes, and the neat tables and chairs inside. Then she -glided on in a voyage of discovery around the house, skirting the -diminutive bedrooms, where half a dozen children lay snoring in -comfortable beds, and finally arriving outside a shed, where a tall, -slight Indian was on his knees, planing staves for a tub by the light of -a lamp on a bracket above him. - -His wife's work lay on the floor. When not suffering from the gold -fever, she twisted together the dried strips of maple wood and scented -grasses, and made baskets that she sold at a good price. - -The Indian did not move an eyelid, but he plainly saw Bidiane and -Claudine, and wondered why they were not with the other women, who, in -some uneasiness of mind, stood in the doorway, looking at him over each -other's shoulders. - -After his brief nod and taciturn "Hullo, ladies," his wife said, "We go -for walk in woods." - -"What for you lie?" he said, in English, for the Micmacs of the Bay are -accomplished linguists, and make use of three languages. "You go to dig -gold," and he grunted contemptuously. - -No one replied to him, and he continued, "Ladies, all religions is good. -I cannot say, you go hell 'cause you Catholic, an' I go heaven 'cause I -Protestant. All same with God, if you believe your religion. But your -priesties not say to dig gold." - -He took up the stave that he had laid down, and went on with his work of -smoothing it, while the four "ladies," Mirabelle Marie, Suretta, -Mosée-Délice, and his wife, appeared to be somewhat ashamed of -themselves. - -"'Pon my soul an' body, there ain't no harm in diggin' gold," said -Mirabelle Marie. "That gives us fun." - -"How many you be?" he asked. - -"Four," said Nannichette, who was regarding her lord and master with -some shyness; for stupid as she was, she recognized the fact that he -was the more civilized being, and that the prosperity of their family -was largely due to him. - -The Indian's liquid eyes glistened for an instant towards the window, -where stood Bidiane and Claudine. "Take care, ladies, there be ghosties -in the woods." - -The four women laughed loudly, but in a shaky manner; then taking each a -handful of raspberries, from a huge basketful that Nannichette offered -them, and that was destined for the preserve pot on the morrow, they -once more plunged into the dark woods. - -Bidiane and Claudine restrained the leaping dog, and quietly followed -them. The former could not conceal her delight when they came suddenly -upon the lake. It lay like a huge, dusky mirror, turned up to the sky -with a myriad stars piercing its glassy bosom. - -"Stop," murmured Claudine. - -The four women had paused ahead of them. They were talking and -gesticulating violently, for all conversation was forbidden while -digging. One word spoken aloud, and the charm would be broken, the -spirit would rush angrily from the spot. - -Therefore they were finishing up their ends of talk, and Nannichette was -assuring them that she would take them to the exact spot revealed to her -in the vision. - -Presently they set off in Indian file, Nannichette in front, as the one -led by the spirit, and carrying with her a washed and polished spade, -that she had brought from her home. - -Claudine and Bidiane were careful not to speak, for there was not a word -uttered now by the women in front, and the pursuers needed to follow -them with extreme caution. On they went, climbing silently over the -grassy mounds that were now the only reminders of the old French fort, -or stumbling unexpectedly and noisily into the great heap of clam -shells, whose contents had been eaten by the hungry exiles of long ago. - -At last they stopped. Nannichette stared up at the sky, down at the -ground, across the lake on her right, and into the woods on her left, -and then pointed to a spot in the grass, and with a magical flourish of -the spade began to dig. - -Having an Indian husband, she was accustomed to work out-of-doors, and -was therefore able to dig for a long time before she became sensible of -fatigue, and was obliged mutely to extend the spade to Suretta. - -Not so enduring were the other women. Their ancestors had ploughed and -reaped, but Acadiennes of the present day rarely work on the farms, -unless it is during the haying season. Suretta soon gave out. -Mosée-Délice took her place, and Mirabelle Marie hung back until the -last. - -Bidiane and Claudine withdrew among the trees, stifling their laughter -and trying to calm the dog, who had finally reached a state of frenzy at -this mysterious separation. - -"My unfortunate aunt!" murmured Bidiane; "do let us put an end to this." - -Claudine was snickering convulsively. She had begun to array herself in -one of the sheets, and was transported with amusement and anticipation. - -Meanwhile, doubt and discord had reared their disturbing heads among the -members of the digging party. Mirabelle Marie persisted in throwing up -the spade too soon, and the other women, regarding her with glowing, -eloquent looks, quietly arranged that the honorable agricultural -implement, now perverted to so unbecoming a use, should return to her -hands with disquieting frequency. - -The earth was soft here by the lake, yet it was heavy to lift out, for -the hole had now become quite deep. Suddenly, to the horror and anger of -Nannichette and the other two women, both of whom were beginning to have -mysterious warnings and impressions that they were now on the brink of -discovery of one pot of gold, and perhaps two, there was an impatient -exclamation from Mirabelle Marie. - -"The divil!" she cried, and her voice broke out shrilly in the deathly -silence; "Bidiane was right. It ain't no speerit you saw. I'm goin'," -and she scrambled out of the hole. - -With angry reproaches for her precipitancy and laziness, the other women -fell upon her with their tongues. She had given them this long walk to -the lake, she had spoiled everything, and, as their furious voices smote -the still air, Bidiane, Claudine, and the dog emerged slowly and -decently from the heavy gloom behind them like ghosts rising from the -lake. - -"I will give you a bit of my sheet," Bidiane had said to Bastarache; -consequently he stalked beside them like a diminutive bogey in a -graceful mantle of white. - -"_Ah, mon jheu! chesque j'vois?_" (what do I see), screamed Suretta, who -was the first to catch sight of them. "Ten candles to the Virgin if I -get out of this!" and she ran like a startled deer. - -With various expressions of terror, the others followed her. They -carried with them the appearance of the white ethereal figures, standing -against the awful black background of the trees, and as they ran, their -shrieks and yells of horror, particularly those from Mirabelle Marie, -were so heartrending that Bidiane, in sudden compunction, screamed to -her, "Don't you know me, my aunt? It is Bidiane, your niece. Don't be -afraid!" - -Mirabelle Marie was making so much noise herself that she could scarcely -have heard a trumpet sounding in her ears, and fear lent her wings of -such extraordinary vigor in flight that she was almost immediately out -of sight. - -Bidiane turned to the dog, who was tripping and stumbling inside his -snowy drapery, and to Claudine, who was shrieking with delight at him. - -"Go then, good dog, console your mistress," she said. "Follow those -piercing screams that float backward," and she was just about to release -him when she was obliged to go to the assistance of Claudine, who had -caught her foot, and had fallen to the ground, where she lay overcome by -hysterical laughter. - -Bidiane had to get water from the lake to dash on her face, and when at -last they were ready to proceed on their way, the forest was as still as -when they had entered it. - -"Bah, I am tired of this joke," said Bidiane. "We have accomplished our -object. Let us throw these things in the lake. I am ashamed of them;" -and she put a stone inside their white trappings, and hurled them into -Sleeping Water, which mutely received and swallowed them. - -"Now," she said, impatiently, "let us overtake them. I am afraid lest -Mirabelle Marie stumble, she is so heavy." - -Claudine, leaning against a tree and mopping her eyes, vowed that it was -the best joke that she had ever heard of; then she joined Bidiane, and -they hurriedly made their way to the yellow cottage. - -It was deserted now, except for the presence of the six children of -mixed blood, who were still sleeping like six little dark logs, laid -three on a bed. - -"We shall overtake them," said Bidiane; "let us hurry." - -However, they did not catch up to them on the forest path, nor even on -the main road, for when the terrified women had rushed into the presence -of the Indian and had besought him to escort them away from the -spirit-haunted lake, that amused man, with a cheerful grunt, had taken -them back to the shore by a short cut known only to himself. - -Therefore, when Bidiane and Claudine arrived breathlessly home, they -found Mirabelle Marie there before them. She sat in a rocking-chair in -the middle of the kitchen, surrounded by a group of sympathizers, who -listened breathlessly to her tale of woe, that she related with -chattering teeth. - -Bidiane ran to her and threw her arms about her neck. - -"_Mon jheu_, Biddy, I've got such a fright. I'm mos' dead. Three -ghosties came out of Sleepin' Water, and chased us,--we were back for -gold. Suretta an' Mosée-Délice have run home. They're mos' scairt to -pieces. Oh, I'll never sin again. I wisht I'd made my Easter duties. -I'll go to confession to-morrer." - -"It was I, my aunt," cried Bidiane, in distress. - -"It was awful," moaned Mirabelle Marie. "I see the speerit of me mother, -I see the speerit of me sister, I see the speerit of me leetle lame -child." - -"It was the dog," exclaimed Bidiane, and, gazing around the kitchen for -him, she discovered Agapit sitting quietly in a corner. - -"Oh, how do you do?" she said, in some embarrassment; then she again -gave her attention to her distressed aunt. - -"The dogue,--Biddy, you ain't crazy?" - -"Yes, yes, the dog and Claudine and I. See how she is laughing. We heard -your plans, we followed you, we dressed in sheets." - -"The dogue," reiterated Mirabelle Marie, in blank astonishment, and -pointing to Bastarache, who lay under the sofa solemnly winking at her. -"Ain't he ben plumped down there ever since supper, Claude?" - -"Yes, he's ben there." - -"But Claude sleeps in the evenings," urged Bidiane. "I assure you that -Bastarache was with us." - -"Oh, the dear leetle liar," said Mirabelle Marie, affectionately -embracing her. "But I'm glad to git back again to yeh." - -"I'm telling the truth," said Bidiane, desperately. "Can't you speak, -Claudine?" - -"We did go," said Claudine, who was still possessed by a demon of -laughter. "We followed you." - -"Followed us to Sleepin' Water! You're lyin', too. _Sakerjé_, it was -awful to see me mother and me sister and the leetle dead child," and she -trotted both feet wildly on the floor, while her rolling eye sought -comfort from Bidiane. - -"What shall I do?" said Bidiane. "Mr. LeNoir, you will believe me. I -wanted to cure my aunt of her foolishness. We took sheets--" - -"Sheets?" repeated Mirabelle. "Whose sheets?" - -"Yours, my aunt,--oh, it was very bad in us, but they were old ones; -they had holes." - -"What did you do with 'em?" - -"We threw them in the lake." - -"Come, now, look at that, ha, ha," and Mirabelle Marie laughed in a -quavering voice. "I can see Claudine throwing sheets in the lake. She -would make pickin's of 'em. Don't lie, Bidiane, me girl, or you'll see -ghosties. You want to help your poor aunt,--you've made up a nice leetle -lie, but don't tell it. See, Jude and Edouard are heatin' some soup. -Give some to Agapit LeNoir and take a cup yourself." - -Bidiane, with a gesture of utter helplessness, gave up the discussion -and sat down beside Agapit. - -"You believe me, do you not?" she asked, under cover of the joyful -bustle that arose when the two boys began to pass around the soup. - -"Yes," he replied, making a wry face over his steaming cup. - -"And what do you think of me?" she asked, anxiously. - -Agapit, although an ardent Acadien, and one bent on advancing the -interests of his countrymen in every way, had yet little patience with -the class to which Mirabelle Marie belonged. Apparently kind and -forbearing with them, he yet left them severely alone. His was the party -of progress, and he had been half amused, half scornful of the efforts -that Bidiane had put forth to educate her deficient relative. - -"On general principles," he said, coolly, "it is better not to chase a -fat aunt through dark woods; yet, in this case, I would say it has done -good." - -"I did not wish to be heartless," said Bidiane, with tears in her eyes. -"I wished to teach her a lesson." - -"Well, you have done so. Hear her swear that she will go to mass,--she -will, too. The only way to work upon such a nature is through fear." - -"I am glad to have her go to mass, but I did not wish her to go in this -way." - -"Be thankful that you have attained your object," he said, dryly. "Now I -must go. I hoped to spend the evening with you, and hear you sing." - -"You will come again, soon?" said Bidiane, following him to the door. - -"It is a good many miles to come, and a good many to go back, -mademoiselle. I have not always the time--and, besides that, I have soon -to go to Halifax on business." - -"Well, I thank you for keeping your promise to come," said Bidiane, -humbly, and with gratitude. She was completely unnerved by the events of -the evening, and was in no humor to find fault. - -Agapit clapped his hat firmly on his head as a gust of wind whirled -across the yard and tried to take it from him. - -"We are always glad to see you here," said Bidiane, wistfully, as she -watched him step across to the picket fence, where his white horse shone -through the darkness; "though I suppose you have pleasant company in -Weymouth. I have been introduced to some nice English girls from there." - -"Yes, there are nice ones," he said. "I should like to see more of them, -but I am usually busy in the afternoons and evenings." - -"Do not work too hard,--that is a mistake. One must enjoy life a -little." - -He gathered up the reins in his hands and paused a minute before he -stepped into the buggy. "I suppose I seem very old to you." - -She hesitated for an instant, and the wind dying down a little seemed -to take the words from her lips and softly breathe them against his -dark, quiet face. "Not so very old,--not as old as you did at first. If -I were as old as you, I should not do such silly things." - -He stared solemnly at her wind-blown figure swaying lightly to and fro -on the gravel, and at the little hands put up to keep her dishevelled -hair from her eyes and cheeks, which were both glowing from her hurried -scamper home. "Are you really worried because you played this trick on -your aunt?" - -"Yes, terribly, she has been like a mother to me. I would be ashamed for -Mr. Nimmo to know." - -"And will you lie awake to-night and vex yourself about it?" - -"Oh, yes, yes,--how can you tell? Perhaps you also have troubles." - -Agapit laughed in sudden and genuine amusement. "Mademoiselle, my -cousin, let me say something to you that you may perhaps remember when -you are older. It is this: you have at present about as much -comprehension and appreciation of real heart trouble, and of mental -struggles that tear one first this way, then that way,--you have about -as much understanding of them as has that kitten sheltering itself -behind you." - -Bidiane quietly stowed away this remark among the somewhat heterogeneous -furniture of her mind; then she said, "I feel quite old when I talk to -my aunt and to Claudine." - -"You are certainly ahead of them in some mental experiences, but you are -not yet up to some other people." - -"I am not up to Madame de Forêt," she said, gently, "nor to you. I feel -sure now that you have some troubles." - -"And what do you imagine they are?" - -"I imagine that they are things that you will get over," she said, with -spirit. "You are not a coward." - -He smiled, and softly bade her good night. - -"Good night, _mon cousin_," she said, gravely, and taking the crying -kitten in her arms, she put her head on one side and listened until the -sound of the carriage wheels grew faint in the distance. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - FAIRE BOMBANCE. - - "Could but our ancestors retrieve their fate, - And see their offspring thus degenerate, - How we contend for birth and names unknown; - And build on their past acts, and not our own; - They'd cancel records and their tombs deface, - And then disown the vile, degenerate race; - For families is all a cheat, - 'Tis personal virtue only, makes us great." - - THE TRUE BORN ENGLISHMAN. DEFOE. - - -Bidiane was late for supper, and Claudine was regretfully remarking that -the croquettes and the hot potatoes in the oven would all be burnt to -cinders, when the young person herself walked into the kitchen, her face -a fiery crimson, a row of tiny beads of perspiration at the conjunction -of her smooth forehead with her red hair. - -"I have had a glorious ride," she said, opening the door of the big oven -and taking out the hot dishes. - -Claudine laid aside the towel with which she was wiping the cups and -saucers that Mirabelle Marie washed. "Go sit down at the table, -Bidiane; you must be weary." - -The girl, nothing loath, went to the dining-room, while Claudine brought -her in hot coffee, buttered toast, and preserved peaches and cream, and -then returning to the kitchen watched her through the open door, as she -satisfied the demands of a certainly prosperous appetite. - -"And yet, it is not food I want, as much as drink," said Bidiane, gaily, -as she poured herself out a second glass of milk. "Ah, the bicycle, -Claudine. If you rode, you would know how one's mouth feels like a dry -bone." - -"I think I would like a wheel," said Claudine, modestly. "I have enough -money saved." - -"Have you? Then you must get one, and I will teach you to ride." - -"How would one go about it?" - -"We will do it in this way," said Bidiane, in a business-like manner, -for she loved to arrange the affairs of other people. "How much money -have you?" - -"I have one hundred dollars." - -"'Pon me soul an' body, I'd have borrered some if I'd known that," -interrupted Mirabelle Marie, with a chuckle. - -"Good gracious," observed Bidiane, "you don't want more than half that. -We will give fifty to one of the men on the schooners. Isn't _La -Sauterelle_ going to Boston, to-morrow?" - -"Yes; the cook was just in for yeast." - -"Has he a head for business?" - -"Pretty fair." - -"Does he know anything about machines?" - -"He once sold sewing-machines, and he also would show how to work them." - -"The very man,--we will give him the fifty dollars and tell him to pick -you out a good wheel and bring it back in the schooner." - -"Then there will be no duty to pay," said Claudine, joyfully. - -"H'm,--well, perhaps we had better pay the duty," said Bidiane; "it -won't be so very much. It is a great temptation to smuggle things from -the States, but I know we shouldn't. By the way, I must tell Mirabelle -Marie a good joke I just heard up the Bay. My aunt,--where are you?" - -Mirabelle Marie came into the room and seated herself near Claudine. - -"Marc à Jaddus à Dominique's little girl gave him away," said Bidiane, -laughingly. "She ran over to the custom-house in Belliveau's Cove and -told the man what lovely things her papa had brought from Boston, in his -schooner, and the customs man hurried over, and Marc had to pay--I must -tell you, too, that I bought some white ribbon for Alzélie Gauterot, -while I was in the Cove," and Bidiane pulled a little parcel from her -pocket. - -Mirabelle Marie was intensely interested. Ever since the affair of the -ghosts, which Bidiane had given up trying to persuade her was not -ghostly, but very material, she had become deeply religious, and took -her whole family to mass and vespers every Sunday. - -Just now the children of the parish were in training for their first -communion. She watched the little creatures daily trotting up the road -towards the church to receive instruction, and she hoped that her boys -would soon be among them. In the small daughter of her next-door -neighbor, who was to make her first communion with the others, she took -a special interest, and in her zeal had offered to make the dress, which -kind office had devolved upon Bidiane and Claudine. - -"Also, I have been thinking of a scheme to save money," said Bidiane. -"For a veil we can just take off this fly screen," and she pointed to -white netting on the table. "No one but you and Claudine will know. It -is fine and soft, and can be freshly done up." - -"_Mon jheu!_ but you are smart, and a real Acadien brat," said her aunt. -"Claudine, will you go to the door? Some divil rings,--that is, some -lady or gentleman," she added, as she caught a menacing glance from -Bidiane. - -"If you keep a hotel you must always be glad to see strangers," said -Bidiane, severely. "It is money in your pocket." - -"But such a trouble, and I am sleepy." - -"If you are not careful you will have to give up this inn,--however, I -must not scold, for you do far better than when I first came." - -"It is the political gentleman," said Claudine, entering, and -noiselessly closing the door behind her. "He who has been going up and -down the Bay for a day or two. He wishes supper and a bed." - -"_Sakerjé!_" muttered Mirabelle Marie, rising with an effort. "If I was -a man I guess I'd let pollyticks alone, and stay to hum. I s'ppose he's -got a nest with some feathers in it. I guess you'd better ask him out, -though. There's enough to start him, ain't there?" and she waddled out -to the kitchen. - -"Ah, the political gentleman," said Bidiane. "It was he for whom I -helped Maggie Guilbaut pick blackberries, yesterday. They expected him -to call, and were going to offer him berries and cream." - -Mirabelle Marie, on going to the kitchen, had left her niece sitting -composedly at the table, only lifting an eyelid to glance at the door by -which the stranger would enter; but when she returned, as she almost -immediately did, to ask the gentleman whether he would prefer tea to -coffee, a curious spectacle met her gaze. - -Bidiane, with a face that was absolutely furious, had sprung to her feet -and was grasping the sides of her bicycle skirt with clenched hands, -while the stranger, who was a lean, dark man, with a pale, rather -pleasing face, when not disfigured by a sarcastic smile, stood staring -at her as if he remembered seeing her before, but had some difficulty in -locating her among his acquaintances. - -Upon her aunt's appearance, Bidiane found her voice. "Either I or that -man must leave this house," she said, pointing a scornful finger at him. - -[Illustration: "'EITHER THAT MAN OR I MUST LEAVE THIS HOUSE.'"] - -Mirabelle Marie, who was not easily shocked, was plainly so on the -present occasion. "Whist, Bidiane," she said, trying to pull her down on -her chair; "this is the pollytickle genl'man,--county member they call -'im." - -"I do not care if he is member for fifty counties," said Bidiane, in -concentrated scorn. "He is a libeller, a slanderer, and I will not stay -under the same roof with him,--and to think it was for him I picked the -blackberries,--we cannot entertain you here, sir." - -The expression of disagreeable surprise with which the man with the -unpleasant smile had regarded her gave way to one of cool disdain. "This -is your house, I think?" he said, appealing to Mirabelle Marie. - -"Yessir," she said, putting down her tea-caddy, and arranging both her -hands on her hips, in which position she would hold them until the -dispute was finished. - -"And you do not refuse me entertainment?" he went on, with the same -unpleasant smile. "You cannot, I think, as this is a public house, and -you have no just reason for excluding me from it." - -"My aunt," said Bidiane, flashing around to her in a towering passion, -"if you do not immediately turn this man out-of-doors, I shall never -speak to you again." - -"I be _dèche_," sputtered the confused landlady, "if I see into this -hash. Look at 'em, Claudine. This genl'man'll be mad if I do one thing, -an' Biddy'll take my head off if I do another. _Sakerjé!_ You've got to -fit it out yourselves." - -"Listen, my aunt," said Bidiane, excitedly, and yet with an effort to -control herself. "I will tell you what happened. On my way here I was in -a hotel in Halifax. I had gone there with some people from the steamer -who were taking charge of me. We were on our way to our rooms. We were -all speaking English. No one would think that there was a French person -in the party. We passed a gentleman, this gentleman, who stood outside -his door; he was speaking to a servant. 'Bring me quickly,' he said, -'some water,--some hot water. I have been down among the evil-smelling -French of Clare. I must go again, and I want a good wash first.'" - -Mirabelle Marie was by no means overcome with horror at the recitation -of this trespass on the part of her would-be guest; but Claudine's eyes -blazed and flashed on the stranger's back until he moved slightly, and -shrugged his shoulders as if he felt their power. - -"Imagine," cried Bidiane, "he called us 'evil-smelling,'--we, the best -housekeepers in the world, whose stoves shine, whose kitchen floors are -as white as the beach! I choked with wrath. I ran up to him and said, -'_Moi, je suis Acadienne_'" (I am an Acadienne). "Did I not, sir?" - -The stranger lifted his eyebrows indulgently and satirically, but did -not speak. - -"And he was astonished," continued Bidiane. "_Ma foi_, but he was -astonished! He started, and stared at me, and I said, 'I will tell you -what you are, sir, unless you apologize.'" - -"I guess yeh apologized, didn't yeh?" said Mirabelle Marie, mildly. - -"The young lady is dreaming," said the stranger, coolly, and he seated -himself at the table. "Can you let me have something to eat at once, -madame? I have a brother who resembles me; perhaps she saw him." - -Bidiane grew so pale with wrath, and trembled so violently that Claudine -ran to support her, and cried, "Tell us, Bidiane, what did you say to -this bad man?" - -Bidiane slightly recovered herself. "I said to him, 'Sir, I regret to -tell you that you are lying.'" - -The man at the table surveyed her in intense irritation. "I do not know -where you come from, young woman," he said, hastily, "but you look -Irish." - -"And if I were not Acadien I would be Irish," she said, in a low voice, -"for they also suffer for their country. Good-by, my aunt, I am going to -Rose à Charlitte. I see you wish to keep this story-teller." - -"Hole on, hole on," ejaculated Mirabelle Marie in distress. "Look here, -sir, you've gut me in a fix, and you've gut to git me out of it." - -"I shall not leave your house unless you tell me to do so," he said, in -cool, quiet anger. - -Bidiane stretched out her hands to him, and with tears in her eyes -exclaimed, pleadingly, "Say only that you regret having slandered the -Acadiens. I will forget that you put my people to shame before the -English, for they all knew that I was coming to Clare. We will overlook -it. Acadiens are not ungenerous, sir." - -"As I said before, you are dreaming," responded the stranger, in a -restrained fury. "I never was so put upon in my life. I never saw you -before." - -Bidiane drew herself up like an inspired prophetess. "Beware, sir, of -the wrath of God. You lied before,--you are lying now." - -The man fell into such a repressed rage that Mirabelle Marie, who was -the only unembarrassed spectator, inasmuch as she was weak in racial -loves and hatreds, felt called upon to decide the case. The gentleman, -she saw, was the story-teller. Bidiane, who had not been particularly -truthful as a child, had yet never told her a falsehood since her return -from France. - -"I'm awful sorry, sir, but you've gut to go. I brought up this leetle -girl, an' her mother's dead." - -The gentleman rose,--a gentleman no longer, but a plain, common, very -ugly-tempered man. These Acadiens were actually turning him, an -Englishman, out of the inn. And he had thought the whole people so meek, -so spiritless. He was doing them such an honor to personally canvass -them for votes for the approaching election. His astonishment almost -overmastered his rage, and in a choking voice he said to Mirabelle -Marie, "Your house will suffer for this,--you will regret it to the end -of your life." - -"I know some business," exclaimed Claudine, in sudden and irrepressible -zeal. "I know that you wish to make laws, but will our men send you when -they know what you say?" - -He snatched his hat from the seat behind him. His election was -threatened. Unless he chained these women's tongues, what he had said -would run up and down the Bay like wildfire,--and yet a word now would -stop it. Should he apologize? A devil rose in his heart. He would not. - -"Do your worst," he said, in a low, sneering voice. "You are a pack of -liars yourselves," and while Bidiane and Claudine stiffened themselves -with rage, and Mirabelle Marie contemptuously muttered, "Get out, ole -beast," he cast a final malevolent glance on them, and left the house. - -For a time the three remained speechless; then Bidiane sank into her -chair, pushed back her half-eaten supper, propped her red head on her -hand, and burst into passionate weeping. - -Claudine stood gloomily watching her, while Mirabelle Marie sat down, -and shifting her hands from her hips, laid them on her trembling knees. -"I guess he'll drive us out of this, Biddy,--an' I like Sleepin' Water." - -Bidiane lifted her face to the ceiling, just as if she were "taking a -vowel," her aunt reflected, in her far from perfect English. "He shall -not ruin us, my aunt,--we will ruin him." - -"What'll you do, sissy?" - -"I will tell you something about politics," said Bidiane, immediately -becoming calm. "Mr. Nimmo has explained to me something about them, and -if you listen, you will understand. In the first place, do you know -what politics are?" and hastily wiping her eyes, she intently surveyed -the two women who were hanging on her words. - -"Yes, I know," said her aunt, joyfully. "It's when men quit work, an' -gab, an' git red in the face, an' pass the bottle, an' pick rows, to -fine out which shall go up to the city of Boston to make laws an' sit in -a big room with lots of other men." - -Bidiane, with an impatient gesture, turned to Claudine. "You know better -than that?" - -"Well, yes,--a little," said the black-eyed beauty, contemptuously. - -"My aunt," said Bidiane, solemnly, "you have been out in the world, and -yet you have many things to learn. Politics is a science, and deep, very -deep." - -"Is it?" said her aunt, humbly. "An' what's a science?" - -"A science is--well, a science is something wonderfully clever--when one -knows a great deal. Now this Dominion of Canada in which we live is -large, very large, and there are two parties of politicians in it. You -know them, Claudine?" - -"Yes, I do," said the young woman, promptly; "they are Liberals and -Conservatives." - -"That is right; and just now the Premier of the Dominion is a Frenchman, -my aunt,--I don't believe you knew that,--and we are proud of him." - -"An' what's the Premier?" - -"He is the chief one,--the one who stands over the others, when they -make the laws." - -"Oh, the boss!--you will tell him about this bad man." - -"No, it would grieve him too much, for the Premier is always a good man, -who never does anything wrong. This bad man will impose on him, and try -to get him to promise to let him go to Ottawa--oh, by the way, Claudine, -we must explain about that. My aunt, you know that there are two cities -to which politicians go to make the laws. One is the capital." - -"Yes, I know,--in Boston city." - -"Nonsense,--Boston is in the United States. We are in Canada. Halifax is -the capital of Nova Scotia." - -"But all our folks go to Boston when they travels," said Mirabelle -Marie, in a slightly injured tone. - -"Yes, yes, I know,--the foolish people; they should go to Halifax. Well, -that is where the big house is in which they make the laws. I saw it -when I was there, and it has pictures of kings and queens in it. Now, -when a man becomes too clever for this house, they send him to Ottawa, -where the Premier is." - -"Yes, I remember,--the good Frenchman." - -"Well, this bad man now wishes to go to Halifax; then if he is -ambitious,--and he is bad enough to be anything,--he may wish to go to -Ottawa. But we must stop him right away before he does more mischief, -for all men think he is good. Mr. Guilbaut was praising him yesterday." - -"He didn't say he is bad?" - -"No, no, he thinks him very good, and says he will be elected; but we -know him to be a liar, and should a liar make laws for his country?" - -"A liar should stay to hum, where he is known," was the decisive -response. - -"Very good,--now should we not try to drive this man out of Clare?" - -"But what can we do?" asked Mirabelle Marie. "He is already out an' -lying like the divil about us--that is, like a man out of the woods." - -"We can talk," said her niece, seriously. "There are women's rights, you -know." - -"Women's rights," repeated her aunt, thoughtfully. "It is not in the -prayer-book." - -"No, of course not." - -"Come now, Biddy, tell us what it is." - -"It is a long subject, my aunt. It would take too many words to explain, -though Mr. Nimmo has often told me about it. Women who believe that--can -do as men. Why should we not vote,--you, and I, and Claudine?" - -"I dunno. I guess the men won't let us." - -"I should like to vote," said Bidiane, stoutly, "but even though we -cannot, we can tell the men on the Bay of this monster, and they will -send him home." - -"All right," said her aunt; while Claudine, who had been sitting with -knitted brows during the last few minutes, exclaimed, "I have it, -Bidiane; let us make _bombance_" (feasting). "Do you know what it -means?" - -No, Bidiane did not, but Mirabelle Marie did, and immediately began to -make a gurgling noise in her throat. "Once I helped to make it in the -house of an aunt. Glory! that was fun. But the tin, Claudine, where'll -you git that?" - -"My one hundred dollars," cried the black-eyed assistant. "I will give -them to my country, for I hate that man. I will do without the wheel." - -"But what is this?" asked Bidiane, reproachfully. "What are you agreeing -to? I do not understand." - -"Tell her, Claudine," said Mirabelle Marie, with a proud wave of her -hand. "She's English, yeh know." - -Claudine explained the phrase, and for the next hour the three, with -chairs drawn close together, nodded, talked, and gesticulated, while -laying out a feminine electioneering campaign. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - LOVE AND POLITICS. - - "Calm with the truth of life, deep with the love of loving, - New, yet never unknown, my heart takes up the tune. - Singing that needs no words, joy that needs no proving, - Sinking in one long dream as summer bides with June." - - -One morning, three weeks later, Rose, on getting up and going out to the -sunny yard where she kept her fancy breed of fowls, found them all -overcome by some strange disorder. The morning was bright and inspiring, -yet they were all sleeping heavily and stupidly under, instead of upon, -their usual roosting-place. - -She waked up one or two, ran her fingers through their showy plumage, -and, after receiving remonstrating glances from reproachful and -recognizing eyes, softly laid them down again, and turned her attention -to a resplendent red and gold cock, who alone had not succumbed to the -mysterious malady, and was staggering to and fro, eyeing her with a -doubtful, yet knowing look. - -"Come, Fiddéding," she said, gently, "tell me what has happened to these -poor hens?" - -Fiddéding, instead of enlightening her, swaggered towards the fence, -and, after many failures, succeeded in climbing to it and in propping -his tail against a post. - -Then he flapped his gorgeous wings, and opened his beak to crow, but in -the endeavor lost his balance, and with a dismal squawk fell to the -ground. Sheepishly resigning himself to his fate, he tried to gain the -ranks of the somniferous hens, but, not succeeding, fell down where he -was, and hid his head under his wing. - -A slight noise caught Rose's attention, and looking up, she found Jovite -leaning against the fence, and grinning from ear to ear. - -"Do you know what is the matter with the hens?" she asked. - -"Yes, madame; if you come to the stable, I will show you what they have -been taking." - -Rose, with a grave face, visited the stable, and then instructed him to -harness her pony to the cart and bring him around to the front of the -house. - -Half an hour later she was driving towards Weymouth. As it happened to -be Saturday, it was market-day, and the general shopping-time for the -farmers and the fishermen all along the Bay, and even from back in the -woods. Many of them, with wives and daughters in their big wagons, were -on their way to sell butter, eggs, and farm produce, and obtain, in -exchange, groceries and dry goods, that they would find in larger -quantities and in greater varieties in Weymouth than in the smaller -villages along the shore. - -Upon reaching Weymouth, she stopped on the principal street, that runs -across a bridge over the lovely Sissiboo River, and leaving the staid -and sober pony to brush the flies from himself without the assistance of -her whip, she knocked at the door of her cousin's office. - -"Come in," said a voice, and she was speedily confronted by Agapit, who -sat at a table facing the door. - -He dropped his book and sprang up, when he saw her. "Oh! _ma chère_, I -am glad to see you. I was just feeling dull." - -She gently received and retained both his hands in hers. "One often does -feel dull after a journey. Ah! but I have missed you." - -"It has only been two weeks--" - -"And you have come back with that same weary look on your face," she -said, anxiously. "Agapit, I try to put that look in the back of my mind, -but it will not stay." - -He lightly kissed her fingers, and drew a chair beside his own for her. -"It amuses you to worry." - -"My cousin!" - -"I apologize,--you are the soul of angelic concern for the minds and -bodies of your fellow mortals. And how goes everything in Sleeping -Water? I have been quite homesick for the good old place." - -Rose, in spite of the distressed expression that still lingered about -her face, began to smile, and said, impulsively, "Once or twice I have -almost recalled you, but I did not like to interrupt. Yours was a case -at the supreme court, was it not, if that is the way to word it?" - -"Yes, Rose; but has anything gone wrong? You mentioned nothing in your -letters," and, as he spoke, he took off his glasses and began to polish -them with his handkerchief. - -"Not wrong, exactly, yet--" and she laughed. "It is Bidiane." - -The hand with which Agapit was manipulating his glasses trembled -slightly, and hurriedly putting them on, he pushed back the papers on -the table before him, and gave her an acute and undivided attention. -"Some one wants to marry her, I suppose," he said, hastily. "She is -quite a flirt." - -"No, no, not yet,--Pius Poirier may, by and by, but do not be too severe -with her, Agapit. She has no time to think of lovers now. She is--but -have you not heard? Surely you must have--every one is laughing about -it." - -"I have heard nothing. I returned late last night. I came directly here -this morning. I intended to go to see you to-morrow." - -"I thought you would, but I could not wait. Little Bidiane should be -stopped at once, or she will become notorious and get into the -papers,--I was afraid it might already be known in Halifax." - -"My dear Rose, there are people in Halifax who never heard of Clare, and -who do not know that there are even a score of Acadiens left in the -country; but what is she doing?" and he masked his impatience under an -admirable coolness. - -"She says she is making _bombance_," said Rose, and she struggled to -repress a second laugh; "but I will begin from the first, as you know -nothing. The very day you left, that Mr. Greening, who has been -canvassing the county for votes, went to our inn, and Bidiane recognized -him as a man who had spoken ill of the Acadiens in her presence in -Halifax." - -"What had he said?" - -"He said that they were 'evil-smelling,'" said Rose, with reluctance. - -"Oh, indeed,--he did," and Agapit's lip curled. "I would not have -believed it of Greening. He is rather a decent fellow. Sarcastic, you -know, but not a fool, by any means. Bidiane, I suppose, cut him." - -"No, she did not cut him; he had not been introduced. She asked him to -apologize, and he would not. Then she told Mirabelle Marie to request -him to leave the house. He did so." - -"Was he angry?" - -"Yes, and insulting; and you can figure to yourself into what kind of a -state our quick-tempered Bidiane became. She talked to Claudine and her -aunt, and they agreed to pass Mr. Greening's remark up and down the -Bay." - -Agapit began to laugh. Something in his cousin's strangely excited -manner, in the expression of her face, usually so delicately colored, -now so deeply flushed and bewildered over Bidiane's irrepressibility, -amused him intensely, but most of all he laughed from sheer gladness of -heart, that the question to be dealt with was not one of a lover for -their distant and youthful cousin. - -Rose was delighted to see him in such good spirits. "But there is more -to come, Agapit. The thing grew. At first, Bidiane contented herself -with flying about on her wheel and telling all the Acadien girls what a -bad man Mr. Greening was to say such a thing, and they must not let -their fathers vote for him. Following this, Claudine, who is very -excited in her calm way, began to drive Mirabelle Marie about. They -stayed at home only long enough to prepare meals, then they went. It is -all up and down the Bay,--that wretched epithet of the unfortunate Mr. -Greening,--and while the men laugh, the women are furious. They cannot -recover from it." - -"Well, 'evil-smelling' is not a pretty adjective," said Agapit, with his -lips still stretched back from his white teeth. "At Bidiane's age, what -a rage I should have been in!" - -"But you are in the affair now," said Rose, helplessly, "and you must -not be angry." - -"I!" he ejaculated, suddenly letting fall a ruler that he had been -balancing on his finger. - -"Yes,--at first there was no talk of another candidate. It was only, -'Let the slanderous Mr. Greening be driven away;' but, as I said, the -affair grew. You know our people are mostly Liberals. Mr. Greening is -the new one; you, too, are one. Of course there is old Mr. Gray, who has -been elected for some years. One afternoon the blacksmith in Sleeping -Water said, jokingly, to Bidiane, 'You are taking away one of our -candidates; you must give us another.' He was mending her wheel at the -time, and I was present to ask him to send a hoe to Jovite. Bidiane -hesitated a little time. She looked down the Bay, she looked up here -towards Weymouth, then she shot a quick glance at me from her curious -yellow eyes, and said, 'There is my far-removed cousin, Agapit LeNoir. -He is a good Acadien; he is also clever. What do you want of an -Englishman?' 'By Jove!' said the blacksmith, and he slapped his leather -apron,--you know he has been much in the States, Agapit, and he is very -wide in his opinions,--'By Jove!' he said, 'we couldn't have a better. I -never thought of him. He is so quiet nowadays, though he used to be a -firebrand, that one forgets him. I guess he'd go in by acclamation.' -Agapit, what is acclamation? I searched in my dictionary, and it said, -'a clapping of hands.'" - -Agapit was thunderstruck. He stared at her confusedly for a few seconds, -then he exclaimed, "The dear little diablette!" - -"Perhaps I should have told you before," said Rose, eagerly, "but I -hated to write anything against Bidiane, she is so charming, though so -self-willed. But yesterday I began to think that people may suppose you -have allowed her to make use of your name. She chatters of you all the -time, and I believe that you will be asked to become one of the members -for this county. Though the talk has been mostly among the women, they -are influencing the men, and last evening Mr. Greening had a quarrel -with the Comeaus, and went away." - -"I must go see her,--this must be stopped," said Agapit, rising hastily. - -Rose got up, too. "But stay a minute,--hear all. The naughty thing that -Bidiane has done is about money, but I will not tell you that. You must -question her. This only I can say: my hens are all quite drunk this -morning." - -"Quite drunk!" said Agapit, and he paused with his arms half in a dust -coat that he had taken from a hook on the wall. "What do you mean?" - -Rose suffocated a laugh in her throat, and said, seriously, "When Jovite -got up this morning, he found them quite weak in their legs. They took -no breakfast, they wished only to drink. He had to watch to keep them -from falling in the river. Afterwards they went to sleep, and he -searched the stable, and found some burnt out matches, where some one -had been smoking and sleeping in the barn, also two bottles of whiskey -hidden in a barrel where one had broken on some oats that the hens had -eaten. So you see the affair becomes serious when men prowl about at -night, and open hen-house doors, and are in danger of setting fire to -stables." - -Agapit made a grimace. He had a lively imagination, and had readily -supplied all these details. "I suppose you do not wish to take me back -to Sleeping Water?" - -Rose hesitated, then said, meekly, "Perhaps it would be better for me -not to do it, nor for you to say that I have talked to you. Bidiane -speaks plainly, and, though I know she likes me, she is most extremely -animated just now. Claudine, you know, spoils her. Also, she avoids me -lately,--you will not be too severe with her. It is so loving that she -should work for you. I think she hopes to break down some of your -prejudice that she says still exists against her." - -Rose could not see her cousin's face, for he had abruptly turned his -back on her, and was staring out the window. - -"You will remember, Agapit," she went on, with gentle persistence; "do -not be irritable with her; she cannot endure it just at present." - -"And why should I be irritable?" he demanded, suddenly wheeling around. -"Is she not doing me a great honor?" - -Rose fell back a few steps, and clasped her amazed hands. This -transfigured face was a revelation to her. "You, too, Agapit!" she -managed to utter. - -"Yes, I, too," he said, bravely, while a dull, heavy crimson mantled his -cheeks. "I, too, as well as the Poirier boy, and half a dozen others; -and why not?" - -"You love her, Agapit?" - -"Does it seem like hatred?" - -"Yes--that is, no--but certainly you have treated her strangely, but I -am glad, glad. I don't know when anything has so rejoiced me,--it takes -me back through long years," and, sitting down, she covered her face -with her nervous hands. - -"I did not intend to tell you," said her cousin, hurriedly, and he laid -a consoling finger on the back of her drooping head. "I wish now I had -kept it from you." - -"Ah, but I am selfish," she cried, immediately lifting her tearful face -to him. "Forgive me,--I wish to know everything that concerns you. Is it -this that has made you unhappy lately?" - -With some reluctance he acknowledged that it was. - -"But now you will be happy, my dear cousin. You must tell her at once. -Although she is young, she will understand. It will make her more -steady. It is the best thing that could happen to her." - -Agapit surveyed her in quiet, intense affection. "Softly, my dear girl. -You and I are too absorbed in each other. There is the omnipotent Mr. -Nimmo to consult." - -"He will not oppose. Oh, he will be pleased, enraptured,--I know that he -will. I have never thought of it before, because of late years you have -seemed not to give your thoughts to marriage, but now it comes to me -that, in sending her here, one object might have been that she would -please you; that you would please her. I am sure of it now. He is sorry -for the past, he wishes to atone, yet he is still proud, and cannot say, -'Forgive me.' This young girl is the peace-offering." - -Agapit smiled uneasily. "Pardon me for the thought, but you dispose -somewhat summarily of the young girl." - -Rose threw out her hands to him. "Your happiness is perhaps too much to -me, yet I would also make her happy in giving her to you. She is so -restless, so wayward,--she does not know her own mind yet." - -"She seems to be leading a pretty consistent course at present." - -Rose's face was like an exquisitely tinted sky at sunrise. "Ah! this is -wonderful, it overcomes me; and to think that I should not have -suspected it! You adore this little Bidiane. She is everything to you, -more than I am,--more than I am." - -"I love you for that spice of jealousy," said Agapit, with animation. -"Go home now, dear girl, and I will follow; or do you stay here, and I -will start first." - -"Yes, yes, go; I will remain a time. I will be glad to think this over." - -"You will not cry," he said, anxiously, pausing with his hand on the -door-knob. - -"I will try not to do so." - -"Probably I will have to give her up," he said, doggedly. "She is a -creature of whims, and I must not speak to her yet; but I do not wish -you to suffer." - -Rose was deeply moved. This was no boyish passion, but the unspeakably -bitter, weary longing of a man. "If I could not suffer with others I -would be dead," she said, simply. "My dear cousin, I will pray for -success in this, your touching love-affair." - -"Some day I will tell you all about it," he said, abruptly. "I will -describe the strange influence that she has always had over me,--an -influence that made me tremble before her even when she was a tiny girl, -and that overpowered me when she lately returned to us. However, this is -not the occasion to talk; my acknowledgment of all this has been quite -unpremeditated. Another day it will be more easy--" - -"Ah, Agapit, how thou art changed," she said, gliding easily into -French; "how I admire thee for thy reserve. That gives thee more power -than thou hadst when young. Thou wilt win Bidiane,--do not despair." - -"In the meantime there are other, younger men," he responded, in the -same language. "I seem old, I know that I do to her." - -"Old, and thou art not yet thirty! I assure thee, Agapit, she respects -thee for thy age. She laughs at thee, perhaps, to thy face, but she -praises thee behind thy back." - -"She is not beautiful," said Agapit, irrelevantly, "yet every one likes -her." - -"And dost thou not find her beautiful? It seems to me that, when I -love, the dear one cannot be ugly." - -"Understand me, Rose," said her cousin, earnestly; "once when I loved a -woman she instantly became an angel, but one gets over that. Bidiane is -even plain-looking to me. It is her soul, her spirit, that charms -me,--that little restless, loving heart. If I could only put my hand on -it, and say, 'Thou art mine,' I should be the happiest man in the world. -She charms me because she changes. She is never the same; a man would -never weary of her." - -Rose's face became as pale as death. "Agapit, would a man weary of me?" - -He did not reply to her. Choked by some emotion, he had again turned to -the door. - -"I thank the blessed Virgin that I have been spared that sorrow," she -murmured, closing her eyes, and allowing her flaxen lashes to softly -brush her cheeks. "Once I could only grieve,--now I say perhaps it was -well for me not to marry. If I had lost the love of a husband,--a true -husband,--it would have killed me very quickly, and it would also have -made him say that all women are stupid." - -"Rose, thou art incomparable," said Agapit, half laughing, half -frowning, and flinging himself back to the table. "No man would tire of -thee. Cease thy foolishness, and promise me not to cry when I am gone." - -She opened her eyes, looked as startled as if she had been asleep, but -submissively gave the required promise. - -"Think of something cheerful," he went on. - -She saw that he was really distressed, and, disengaging her thoughts -from herself by a quiet, intense effort, she roguishly murmured, "I will -let my mind run to the conversation that you will have with this fair -one--no, this plain one--when you announce your love." - -Agapit blushed furiously, and hurried from the room, while Rose, as an -earnest of her obedience to him, showed him, at the window, until he was -out of sight, a countenance alight with gentle mischief and entire -contentment of mind. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - A CAMPAIGN BEGUN IN BRIBERY. - - "After madness acted, question asked." - - TENNYSON. - - -Before the day was many hours older, Agapit was driving his white horse -into the inn yard. - -There seemed to be more people about the house then there usually were, -and Bidiane, who stood at the side door, was handing a long paper parcel -to a man. "Take it away," Agapit heard her say, in peremptory tones; -"don't you open it here." - -The Acadien to whom she was talking happened to be, Agapit knew, a -ne'er-do-weel. He shuffled away, when he caught sight of the young -lawyer, but Bidiane ran delightedly towards him. "Oh, Mr. LeNoir, you -are as welcome as Mayflowers in April!" - -Her face was flushed, there were faint dark circles around the light -brown eyes that harmonized so much better with her red hair than blue -ones would have done. The sun shone down into these eyes, emphasizing -this harmony between them and the hair, and Agapit, looking deeply into -them, forgot immediately the mentor's part that he was to act, and -clasped her warmly and approvingly by the hand. - -"Come in," she said; but Agapit, who would never sit in the house if it -were possible to stay out-of-doors, conducted her to one of the rustic -seats by the croquet lawn. He sat down, and she perched in the hammock, -sitting on one foot, swinging the other, and overwhelming him with -questions about his visit to Halifax. - -"And what have you been doing with yourself since I have been away?" he -asked, with a hypocritical assumption of ignorance. - -"You know very well what I have been doing," she said, rapidly. "Did not -I see Rose driving in to call on you this morning? And you have come -down to scold me. I understand you perfectly; you cannot deceive me." - -Agapit was silent, quite overcome by this mark of feminine insight. - -"I will never do it again," she went on, "but I am going to see this -through. It is such fun--'Claude,' said my aunt to her husband, when we -first decided to make _bombance_, 'what politics do you belong to?' 'I -am a Conservative,' he said; because, you know, my aunt has always told -him to vote as the English people about him did. She has known nothing -of politics. 'No, you are not,' she replied, 'you are a Liberal;' and -Claudine and I nearly exploded with laughter to hear her trying to -convince him that he must be a Liberal like our good French Premier, and -that he must endeavor to drive the Conservative candidate out. Claude -said, 'But we have always been Conservatives, and our house is to be -their meeting-place on the day of election.' 'It is the meeting-place -for the Liberals,' said my aunt. But Claude would not give in, so he and -his party will have the laundry, while we will have the parlor; but I -can tell you a secret," and she leaned forward and whispered, "Claude -will vote for the Liberal man. Mirabelle Marie will see to that." - -"You say Liberal man,--there are two--" - -"But one is going to retire." - -"And who will take his place?" - -"Never mind," she said, smiling provokingly. "The Liberals are going to -have a convention to-morrow evening in the Comeauville schoolhouse, and -women are going. Then you will see--why there is Father Duvair. What -does he wish?" - -She sprang lightly from the hammock, and while she watched the priest, -Agapit watched her, and saw that she grew first as pale as a lily, then -red as a rose. - -The parish priest was walking slowly towards the inn. He was a young man -of tall, commanding presence, and being a priest "out of France," he had -on a _soutane_ (cassock) and a three-cornered hat. On the Bay are Irish -priests, Nova Scotian priests, Acadien priests, and French-Canadian -priests, but only the priests "out of France" hold to the strictly -French customs of dress. The others dress as do the Halifax -ecclesiastics, in tall silk or shovel hats and black broadcloth garments -like those worn by clergymen of Protestant denominations. - -"_Bon jour, mademoiselle_," he said to Bidiane. - -"_Bon jour, monsieur le curé_," she replied, with deep respect. - -"Is Madame Corbineau within?" he went on, after warmly greeting Agapit, -who was an old favorite of his. - -"Yes, _monsieur le curé_,--I will take you to her," and she led the way -to the house. - -In a few minutes she came dejectedly back. "You are in trouble," said -Agapit, tenderly; "what is it?" - -She glanced miserably at him from under her curling eyelashes. "When -Mirabelle Marie went into the parlor, Father Duvair said politely, so -politely, 'I wish to buy a little rum, madame; can you sell me some?' My -aunt looked at me, and I said, 'Yes, _monsieur le curé_,' for I knew if -we set the priest against us we should have trouble,--and then we have -not been quite right, I know that." - -"Where did you get the rum?" asked Agapit, kindly. - -"From a schooner,--two weeks ago,--there were four casks. It is -necessary, you know, to make _bombance_. Some men will not vote -without." - -"And you have been bribing." - -"Not bribing," she said, and she dropped her head; "just coaxing." - -"Where did you get the money to buy it?" - -For some reason or other she evaded a direct answer to this question, -and after much deliberation murmured, in the lowest of voices, that -Claudine had had some money. - -"Bidiane, she is a poor woman." - -"She loves her country," said the girl, flashing out suddenly at him, -"and she is not ashamed of it. However, Claude bought the rum and found -the bottles, and we always say, 'Take it home,--do not drink it here.' -We know that the priests are against drinking, so we had to make haste, -for Claudine said they would get after us. Therefore, just now, I at -once gave in. Father Duvair said, 'I would like to buy all you have; how -much is it worth?' I said fifty dollars, and he pulled the money out of -his pocket and Mirabelle Marie took it, and then he borrowed a nail and -a hammer and went down in the cellar, and Claudine whispered loudly as -he went through the kitchen, 'I wonder whether he will find the cask -under the coal?' and he heard her, for she said it on purpose, and he -turned and gave her a quick look as he passed." - -"I don't understand perfectly," said Agapit, with patient gravity. "This -seems to be a house divided against itself. Claudine spends her money -for something she hates, and then informs on herself." - -Bidiane would not answer him, and he continued, "Is Father Duvair at -present engaged in the work of destruction in the cellar?" - -"I just told you that he is." - -"How much rum will he find there?" - -"Two casks," she said, mournfully. "It is what we were keeping for the -election." - -"And you think it wise to give men that poison to drink?" asked Agapit, -in an impartial and judicial manner. - -"A little does not hurt; why, some of the women say that it makes their -husbands good-natured." - -"If you were married, would you like your husband to be a drunkard?" - -"No," she said, defiantly; "but I would not mind his getting drunk -occasionally, if he would be gentlemanly about it." - -Her tone was sharp and irritated, and Agapit, seeing that her nerves -were all unstrung, smiled indulgently instead of chiding her. - -She smiled, too, rather uncertainly; then she said, "Hush, here is -Father Duvair coming back." - -That muscular young priest was sauntering towards them, his stout -walking-stick under his arm, while he slowly rubbed his damp hands with -his white handkerchief. - -Agapit stood up when he saw him, and went to meet him, but Bidiane sat -still in her old seat in the hammock. - -Agapit drew a cheque-book from his pocket, and, resting it on the picket -fence, wrote something quickly on it, tore out the leaf, and extended it -towards the priest. - -"This is for you, father; will you be good enough to hand it to some -priest who is unexpectedly called upon to make certain outlays for the -good of his parishioners?" - -Father Duvair bowed slightly, and, without offering to take it, went on -wiping his hands. - -"How are you getting on with your business, Agapit?" - -"I am fully occupied. My income supports me, and I am even able to lay -up a little." - -"Are you able to marry?" - -"Yes, father, whenever I wish." - -A gleam of humor appeared in Father Duvair's eyes, and he glanced -towards the apparently careless girl seated in the hammock. - -"You will take the cheque, father," said Agapit, "otherwise it will -cause me great pain." - -The priest reluctantly took the slip of paper from him, then, lifting -his hat, he said to Bidiane, "I have the honor to wish you good -morning, mademoiselle." - -"_Monsieur le curé_," she said, disconsolately, rising and coming -towards him, "you must not think me too wicked." - -"Mademoiselle, you do not do yourself justice," he said, gravely. - -Bidiane's eyes wandered to the spots of moisture on his cassock. "I wish -that rum had been in the Bay," she said; "yet, _monsieur le curé_, Mr. -Greening is a very bad man." - -"Charity, charity, mademoiselle. We all speak hastily at times. Shall I -tell you what I think of you?" - -"Yes, yes, _monsieur le curé_, if you please." - -"I think that you have a good heart, but a hasty judgment. You will, -like many others, grow wise as you grow older, yet, mademoiselle, we do -not wish you to lose that good heart. Do you not think that Mr. Greening -has had his lesson?" - -"Yes, I do." - -"Then, mademoiselle, you will cease wearying yourself with--with--" - -"With unwomanly exertions against him," said Bidiane, with a quivering -lip and a laughing eye. - -"Hardly that,--but you are vexing yourself unnecessarily." - -"Don't you think that my good cousin here ought to go to Parliament?" -she asked, wistfully. - -Father Duvair laughed outright, refused to commit himself, and went -slowly away. - -"I like him," said Bidiane, as she watched him out of sight, "he is so -even-tempered, and he never scolds his flock as some clergymen do. Just -to think of his going down into that cellar and letting all that liquor -run out. His boots were quite wet, and did you notice the splashes on -his nice black cassock?" - -"Yes; who will get the fifty dollars?" - -"Dear me, I forgot all about it. I have known a good deal of money to go -into my aunt's big pocket, but very little comes out. Just excuse me for -a minute,--I may get it if I pounce upon her at once." - -Bidiane ran to the house, from whence issued immediately after a lively -sound of squealing. In a few minutes she appeared in the doorway, -cramming something in her pocket and looking over her shoulder at her -aunt, who stood slapping her sides and vowing that she had been robbed. - -"I have it all but five dollars," said the girl, breathlessly. "The dear -old thing was stuffing it into her stocking for Mr. Nimmo. 'You sha'n't -rob Peter to pay Paul,' I said, and I snatched it away from her. Then -she squealed like a pig, and ran after me." - -"You will give this to Claudine?" - -"I don't know. I think I'll have to divide it. We had to give that -maledicted Jean Drague three dollars for his vote. That was my money." - -"Where did you see Jean Drague?" - -"I went to his house. Some one told me that the Conservative candidate -had called, and had laid seven dollars on the mantelpiece. I also -called, and there were the seven dollars, so I took them up, and laid -down ten instead." - -Agapit did not speak, but contented himself with twisting the ends of -his mustache in a vigorous manner. - -"And the worst of it is that we are not sure of him now," she said, -drearily. "I wonder what Mr. Nimmo would say if he knew how I have been -acting?" - -"I have been wondering, myself." - -"Some of you will be kind enough to tell him, I suppose," she said. "Oh, -dear, I'm tired," and leaning her head against the hammock supports, she -began to cry wearily and dejectedly. - -Agapit was nearly frantic. He got up, walked to and fro about her, half -stretched out his hand to touch her burnished head, drew it back upon -reflecting that the eyes of the street, the neighbors, and the inn might -be upon him, and at last said, desperately, "You ought to have a -husband, Bidiane. You are a very torrent of energy; you will always be -getting into scrapes." - -"Why don't you get married yourself?" and she turned an irritated eye -upon him. - -"I cannot," said Agapit, in sudden calm, and with an inspiration; "the -woman that I love does not love me." - -"Are you in love?" asked Bidiane, immediately drying her eyes. "Who is -she?" - -"I cannot tell you." - -"Oh, some English girl, I imagine," she said, disdainfully. - -"Suppose Mr. Greening could hear you?" - -"I am not talking against the English," she retorted, snappishly, "but I -should think that you, of all men, would want to marry a woman of your -own nation,--the dear little Acadien nation,--the only thing that I -love," and she wound up with a despairing sob. - -"The girl that I love is an Acadien," said Agapit, in a lower voice, for -two men had just driven into the yard. - -"Is it Claudine?" - -"Claudine has a good education," he said, coldly, "yet she is hardly -fitted to be my wife." - -"I daresay it is Rose." - -"It is not Rose," said Agapit; and rendered desperate by the knowledge -that he must not raise his voice, must not seem excited, must not stand -too close to her, lest he attract the attention of some of the people -at a little distance from them, and yet that he must snatch this, the -golden moment, to press his suit upon her, he crammed both hands in his -coat pockets, and roamed distractedly around the square of grass. - -"Do I know her?" asked Bidiane when, after a time, he came back to the -hammock. - -"A little,--not thoroughly. You do not appreciate her at her full -value." - -"Well," said Bidiane, resignedly, "I give it up. I daresay I will find -out in time. I can't go over the names of all the girls on the Bay--I -wish I knew what it is that keeps our darling Rose and Mr. Nimmo apart." - -"I wish I could tell you." - -"Is it something that can be got over?" - -"Yes." - -She swung herself more vigorously in her delight. "If they could only -marry, I would be willing to die an old maid." - -"But I thought you had already made up your mind to do that," said -Agapit, striking an attitude of pretended unconcern. - -"Oh, yes, I forgot,--I have made up my mind that I am not suited to -matrimony. Just fancy having to ask a man every time you wanted a little -money,--and having to be meek and patient all the time. No, indeed, I -wish to have my own way rather more than most women do," and, in a gay -and heartless derision of the other sex, she hummed a little tune. - -"Just wait till you fall in love," said Agapit, threateningly. - -"A silly boy asked me to marry him, the other evening. Just as if I -would! Why, he is only a baby." - -"That was Pius Poirier," said Agapit, delightedly and ungenerously. - -"I shall not tell you. I did wrong to mention him," said Bidiane, -calmly. - -"He is a diligent student; he will get on in the world," said Agapit, -more thoughtfully. - -"But without me,--I shall never marry." - -"I know a man who loves you," said Agapit, cautiously. - -"Do you?--well, don't tell me. Tell him, if you have his confidence, -that he is a goose for his pains," and Bidiane reclined against her -hammock cushions in supreme indifference. - -"But he is very fond of you," said Agapit, with exquisite gentleness, -"and very unhappy to think that you do not care for him." - -Bidiane held her breath and favored him with a sharp glance. Then she -sat up very straight. "What makes you so pale?" - -"I am sympathizing with that poor man." - -"But you are trembling, too." - -"Am I?" and with the pretence of a laugh he turned away. - -"_Mon cousin_," she said, sweetly, "tell that poor man that I am hoping -soon to leave Sleeping Water, and to go out in the world again." - -"No, no, Bidiane, you must not," he said, turning restlessly on his -heel, and coming back to her. - -"Yes, I am. I have become very unhappy here. Every one is against me, -and I am losing my health. When I came, I was intoxicated with life. I -could run for hours. I was never tired. It was a delight to live. Now I -feel weary, and like a consumptive. I think I shall die young. My -parents did, you know." - -"Yes; they were both drowned. You will pardon me, if I say that I think -you have a constitution of iron." - -"You are quite mistaken," she said, with dignity. "Time will show that I -am right. Unless I leave Sleeping Water at once, I feel that I shall go -into a decline." - -"May I ask whether you think it a good plan to leave a place immediately -upon matters going wrong with one living in it?" - -"It would be for me," she said, decidedly. - -"Then, mademoiselle, you will never find rest for the sole of your -foot." - -"I am tired of Sleeping Water," she said, excitedly quitting the -hammock, and looking as if she were about to leave him. "I wish to get -out in the world to do something. This life is unendurable." - -"Bidiane,--dear Bidiane,--you will not leave us?" - -"Yes, I will," she said, decidedly; "you are not willing for me to have -my own way in one single thing. You are not in the least like Mr. -Nimmo," and holding her head well in the air, she walked towards the -house. - -"Not like Mr. Nimmo," said Agapit, with a darkening brow. "Dear little -fool, one would think you had never felt that iron hand in the velvet -glove. Because I am more rash and loud-spoken, you misjudge me. You are -so young, so foolish, so adorable, so surprised, so intoxicated with -what I have said, that you are beside yourself. I am not discouraged, -oh, no," and, with a sudden hopeful smile overspreading his face, he was -about to spring into his buggy and drive away, when Bidiane came -sauntering back to him. - -"I am forgetting the duties of hospitality," she said, stiffly. "Will -you not come into the house and have something to eat or drink after -your long drive?" - -"Bidiane," he said, in a low, eager voice, "I am not a harsh man." - -"Yes, you are," she said, with a catching of her breath. "You are -against me, and the whole Bay will laugh at me,--and I thought you would -be pleased." - -"Bidiane," he muttered, casting a desperate glance about him, "I am -frantic--oh, for permission to dry those tears! If I could only reveal -my heart to you, but you are such a child, you would not understand." - -"Will you do as I wish you to?" she asked, obstinately. - -"Yes, yes, anything, my darling one." - -"Then you will take Mr. Greening's place?" - -"Oh, the baby,--you do not comprehend this question. I have talked to no -one,--I know nothing,--I am not one to put myself forward." - -"If you are requested or elected to-night,--or whatever they call -it,--will you go up to Halifax to 'make the laws,' as my aunt says?" -inquired Bidiane, smiling slightly, and revealing to him just the tips -of her glittering teeth. - -"Yes, yes,--anything to please you." - -She was again about to leave him, but he detained her. "I, also, have a -condition to make in this campaign of bribery. If I am nominated, and -run an election, what then,--where is my reward?" - -She hesitated, and he hastened to dissipate the cloud overspreading her -face. "Never mind, I bind myself with chains, but I leave you free. Go, -little one, I will not detain you,--I exact nothing." - -"Thank you," she said, soberly, and, instead of hurrying away, she stood -still and watched him leaving the yard. - -Just before he reached Weymouth, he put his hand in his pocket to take -out his handkerchief. To his surprise there came fluttering out with it -a number of bills. He gathered them together, counted them, found that -he had just forty-five dollars, and smiling and muttering, "The little -sharp-eyes,--I did not think that she took in my transaction with Father -Duvair," he went contentedly on his way. - - - - - CHAPTER XI. - - WHAT ELECTION DAY BROUGHT FORTH. - - "Oh, my companions, now should we carouse, now we should strike - the ground with a free foot, now is the time to deck the temples - of the gods." - - ODE 37. HORACE. - - -It was election time all through the province of Nova Scotia, and great -excitement prevailed, for the Bluenoses are nothing if not keen -politicians. - -In the French part of the county of Digby there was an unusual amount of -interest taken in the election, and considerable amusement prevailed -with regard to it. - -Mr. Greening had been spirited away. His unwise and untrue remark about -the inhabitants of the township Clare had so persistently followed him, -and his anger with the three women at the Sleeping Water Inn had at last -been so stubbornly and so deeply resented by the Acadiens, who are slow -to arouse but difficult to quiet when once aroused, that he had been -called upon to make a public apology. - -This he had refused to do, and the discomfited Liberals had at once -relegated him to private life. His prospective political career was -ruined. Thenceforward he would lead the life of an unostentatious -citizen. He had been chased and whipped out of public affairs, as many -another man has been, by an unwise sentence that had risen up against -him in his day of judgment. - -The surprised Liberals had not far to go to seek his successor. The -whole French population had been stirred by the cry of an Acadien for -the Acadiens; and Agapit LeNoir, _nolens volens_, but in truth quite -_volens_, had been called to become the Liberal nominee. There was -absolutely nothing to be said against him. He was a young man,--not too -young,--he was of good habits; he was well educated, well bred, and he -possessed the respect not only of the population along the Bay, but of -many of the English residents of the other parts of the county, who had -heard of the diligent young Acadien lawyer of Weymouth. - -The wise heads of the Liberal party, in welcoming this new -representative to their ranks, had not the slightest doubt of his -success. - -Without money, without powerful friends, without influence, except that -of a blameless career, and without asking for a single vote, he would be -swept into public life on a wave of public opinion. However, they did -not tell him this, but in secret anxiety they put forth all their -efforts towards making sure the calling and election of their other -Liberal candidate, who would, from the very fact of Agapit's assured -success, be more in danger from the machinations of the one Conservative -candidate that the county had returned for years. - -One Liberal and one Conservative candidate had been elected almost from -time immemorial. This year, if the campaign were skilfully directed in -the perilously short time remaining to them, there might be returned, on -account of Agapit's sudden and extraordinary popularity, two Liberals -and no Conservative at all. - -Agapit, in truth, knew very little about elections, although he had -always taken a quiet interest in them. He had been too much occupied -with his struggle for daily bread for mind and body, to be able to -afford much time for outside affairs, and he showed his inexperience -immediately after his informal nomination by the convention, and his -legal one by the sheriff, by laying strict commands upon Bidiane and her -confederates that they should do no more canvassing for him. - -Apparently they subsided, but they had gone too far to be wholly -repressed, and Mirabelle Marie and Claudine calmly carried on their work -of baking enormous batches of pies and cakes, for a whole week before -the election took place, and of laying in a stock of confectionery, -fruit, and raisins, and of engaging sundry chickens and sides of beef, -and also the ovens of neighbors to roast them in. - -"For men-folks," said Mirabelle Marie, "is like pigs; if you feed 'em -high, they don' squeal." - -Agapit did not know what Bidiane was doing. She was shy and elusive, and -avoided meeting him, but he strongly suspected that she was the power -behind the throne in making these extensive preparations. He was not -able to visit the inn except very occasionally, for, according to -instructions from headquarters, he was kept travelling from one end of -the county to the other, cramming himself with information _en route_, -and delivering it, at first stumblingly, but always modestly and -honestly, to Acadien audiences, who wagged delighted heads, and vowed -that this young fellow should go up to sit in Parliament, where several -of his race had already honorably acquitted themselves. What had they -been thinking of, the last five years? Formerly they had always had an -Acadien representative, but lately they had dropped into an easy-going -habit of allowing some Englishman to represent them. The English race -were well enough, but why not have a man of your own race? They would -take up that old habit again, and this time they would stick to it. - -At last the time of canvassing and lecturing was over, and the day of -the election came. The Sleeping Water Inn had been scrubbed from the -attic to the cellar, every article of furniture was resplendent, and two -long tables spread with every variety of dainties known to the Bay had -been put up in the two large front rooms of the house. - -In these two rooms, the smoking-room and the parlor, men were expected -to come and go, eating and drinking at will,--Liberal men, be it -understood. The Conservatives were restricted to the laundry, and Claude -ruefully surveyed the cold stove, the empty table, and the hard benches -set apart for him and his fellow politicians. - -He was exceedingly confused in his mind. Mirabelle Marie had explained -to him again and again the reason for the sudden change in her hazy -beliefs with regard to the conduct of state affairs, but Claude was one -Acadien who found it inconsistent to turn a man out of public life on -account of one unfortunate word, while so many people in private life -could grow, and thrive, and utter scores of unfortunate words without -rebuke. - -However, his wife had stood over him until he had promised to vote for -Agapit, and in great dejection of spirit he smoked his pipe and tried -not to meet the eyes of his handful of associates, who did not know that -he was to withhold his small support from them. - -From early morn till dewy eve the contest went on between the two -parties. All along the shore, and back in the settlements in the woods, -men left their work, and, driving to the different polling-places, -registered their votes, and then loitered about to watch others do -likewise. - -It was a general holiday, and not an Acadien and not a Nova Scotian -would settle down to work again until the result of the election was -known. - -Bidiane early retreated to one of the upper rooms of the house, and from -the windows looked down upon the crowd about the polling-booth at the -corner, or crept to the staircase to listen to jubilant sounds below, -for Mirabelle Marie and Claudine were darting about, filling the orders -of those who came to buy, but in general insisting on "treating" the -Liberal tongues and palates weary from much talking. - -Bidiane did not see Agapit, although she had heard some one say that he -had gone down the Bay early in the morning. She saw the Conservative -candidate, Mr. Folsom, drive swiftly by, waving his hat and shouting a -hopeful response to the cheering that greeted him from some of the men -at the corner, and her heart died within her at the sound. - -Shortly before noon she descended from her watch-tower, and betook -herself to the pantry, where she soberly spent the afternoon in washing -dishes, only turning her head occasionally as Mirabelle Marie or -Claudine darted in with an armful of soiled cups and saucers and hurried -ejaculations such as "They vow Agapit'll go in. There's an awful strong -party for him down the Bay. Every one's grinning over that story about -old Greening. They say we'll not know till some time in the -night--Bidiane, you look pale as a ghost. Go lie down,--we'll manage. I -never did see such a time,--and the way they drink! Such thirsty -throats! More lemonade glasses, Biddy. It's lucky Father Duvair got that -rum, or we'd have 'em all as drunk as goats." And the girl washed on, -and looked down the road from the little pantry window, and in a fierce, -silent excitement wished that the thing might soon be over, so that her -throbbing head would be still. - -Soon after five o'clock, when the legal hour for closing the -polling-places arrived, they learned the majority for Agapit, for he it -was that obtained it in all the villages in the vicinity of Sleeping -Water. - -"He's in hereabouts," shouted Mirabelle Marie, joyfully, as she came -plunging into the pantry, "an' they say he'll git in everywheres. The -ole Conservative ain't gut a show at all. Oh, ain't you glad, Biddy?" - -"Of course she's glad," said Claudine, giving Mrs. Corbineau a push with -her elbow, "but let her alone, can't you? She's tired, so she's quiet -about it." - -As it grew dark, the returns from the whole, or nearly the whole county -came pouring in. Men mounted on horseback, or driving in light carts, -came dashing up to the corner to receive the latest news from the crowd -about the telephone office, and receiving it, dashed on again to impart -the news to others. Soon they knew quite surely, although there were -some backwoods districts still to be heard from. In them the count could -be pretty accurately reckoned, for it did not vary much from year to -year. They could be relied on to remain Liberal or Conservative, as the -case might be. - -Bidiane, who had again retreated up-stairs, for nothing would satisfy -her but being alone, heard, shortly after it grew quite dark, a sudden -uproar of joyous and incoherent noises below. - -She ran to the top of the front staircase. The men, many of whom had -been joined by their wives, had left the dreary polling-place, which was -an unused shop, and had sought the more cheerful shelter of the inn. -Soft showers of rain were gently falling, but many of the excited -Acadiens stood heedlessly on the grass outside, or leaned from the -veranda to exchange exultant cries with those of their friends who went -driving by. Many others stalked about the hall and front rooms, shaking -hands, clapping shoulders, congratulating, laughing, joking, and -rejoicing, while Mirabelle Marie, her fat face radiant with glee, -plunged about among them like a huge, unwieldy duck, flourishing her -apron, and making more noise and clatter than all the rest of the women -combined. - -Agapit was in,--in by an overwhelming majority. His name headed the -lists; the other Liberal candidate followed him at a respectful -distance, and the Conservative candidate was nowhere at all. - -Bidiane trembled like a leaf; then, pressing her hands over her ears, -she ran to hide herself in a closet. - -In the meantime, the back of the house was gloomy. One by one the -Conservatives were slipping away home; still, a few yet lingered, and -sat dispiritedly looking at each other and the empty wash-tubs in the -laundry, while they passed about a bottle of weak raspberry vinegar and -water, which was the only beverage Mirabelle and Claudine had allowed -them. - -Claude, as in honor bound, sat with them until his wife, who gloried in -including every one within reach in what she called her -"jollifications," came bounding in, and ordered them all into the front -of the house, where the proceedings of the day were to be wound up with -a supper. - -Good-humored raillery greeted Claude and his small flock of -Conservatives when Mirabelle Marie came driving them in before her. - -"Ah, Joe à Jack, where is thy doubloon?" called out a Liberal. "Thou -hast lost it,--thy candidate is in the Bay. It is all up with him. And -thou, Guillaume,--away to the shore with thee. You remember, boys, he -promised to swallow a dog-fish, tail first, if Agapit LeNoir went in." - -A roar of laughter greeted this announcement, and the unfortunate -Guillaume was pushed into a seat, and had a glass thrust into his hand. -"Drink, cousin, to fortify thee for thy task. A dog-fish,--_sakerjé!_ -but it will be prickly swallowing." - -"Biddy Ann, Biddy Ann," shrieked her aunt, up the staircase, "come and -hear the good news," but Bidiane, who was usually social in her -instincts, was now eccentric and solitary, and would not respond. - -"Skedaddle up-stairs and hunt her out, Claudine," said Mrs. Corbineau; -but Bidiane, hearing the request, cunningly ran to the back of the -house, descended the kitchen stairway, and escaped out-of-doors. She -would go up to the horseshoe cottage and see Rose. There, at least, it -would be quiet; she hated this screaming. - -Her small feet went pit-a-pat over the dark road. There were lights in -all the windows. Everybody was excited to-night. Everybody but herself. -She was left out of the general rejoicing, and a wave of injured feeling -and of desperate dissatisfaction and bodily fatigue swept over her. And -she had fancied that Agapit's election would plunge her into a tumult -of joy. - -However, she kept on her way, and dodging a party of hilarious young -Acadiens, who were lustily informing the neighborhood that the immortal -Malbrouck had really gone to the wars at last, she took to the wet grass -and ran across the fields to the cottage. - -There were two private bridges across Sleeping Water just here, the -Comeau bridge and Rose à Charlitte's. Bidiane trotted nimbly over the -former, jumped a low stone wall, and found herself under the windows of -Rose's parlor. - -Why, there was the hero of the day talking to Rose! What was he doing -here? She had fancied him the centre of a crowd of men,--he, -speech-making, and the cynosure of all eyes,--and here he was, quietly -lolling in an easy chair by the fire that Rose always had on cool, rainy -evenings. However, he had evidently just arrived, for his boots were -muddy, and his white horse, instead of being tied to the post, was -standing patiently by the door,--a sure sign that his master was not to -stay long. - -Well, she would go home. They looked comfortable in there, and they were -carrying on an animated conversation. They did not want her, and, -frowning impatiently, she uttered an irritable "Get away!" to the -friendly white horse, who, taking advantage of one of the few occasions -when he was not attached to the buggy, which was the bane of his -existence, had approached, and was extending a curious and -sympathetically quivering nose in her direction. - -The horse drew back, and, moving his ears sensitively back and forth, -watched her going down the path to the river. - - - - - CHAPTER XII. - - BIDIANE FALLS IN A RIVER. - - "He laid a finger under her chin, - His arm for her girdle at waist was thrown; - Now, what will happen, and who will win, - With me in the fight and my lady-love? - - "Sleek as a lizard at round of a stone, - The look of her heart slipped out and in. - Sweet on her lord her soft eyes shone, - As innocents clear of a shade of sin." - - GEORGE MEREDITH. - - -Five minutes later, Agapit left Rose, and, coming out-of-doors, stared -about for his horse, Turenne, who was nowhere to be seen. - -While he stood momentarily expecting to see the big, familiar white -shape loom up through the darkness, he fancied that he heard some one -calling his name. - -He turned his head towards the river. There was a fine, soft wind -blowing, the sky was dull and moist, and, although the rain had ceased -for a time, it was evidently going to fall again. Surely he had been -mistaken about hearing his name, unless Turenne had suddenly been -gifted with the power of speech. No,--there it was again; and now he -discovered that it was uttered in the voice that, of all the voices in -the world, he loved best to hear, and it was at present ejaculating, in -peremptory and impatient tones, "Agapit! Agapit!" - -He precipitated himself down the hill, peering through the darkness as -he went, and on the way running afoul of his white nag, who stood -staring with stolid interest at a small round head beside the bridge, -and two white hands that were clinging to its rustic foundations. - -"Do help me out," said Bidiane; "my feet are quite wet." - -Agapit uttered a confused, smothered exclamation, and, stooping over, -seized her firmly by the shoulders, and drew her out from the clinging -embrace of Sleeping Water. - -"I never saw such a river," said Bidiane, shaking herself like a small -wet dog, and avoiding her lover's shocked glance. "It is just like -jelly." - -"Come up to the house," he ejaculated. - -"No, no; it would only frighten Rose. She is getting to dislike this -river, for people talk so much against it. I will go home." - -"Then let me put you on Turenne's back," said Agapit, pointing to his -horse as he stood curiously regarding them. - -"No, I might fall off--I have had enough frights for to-night," and she -shuddered. "I shall run home. I never take cold. _Ma foi!_ but it is -good to be out of that slippery mud." - -Agapit hurried along beside her. "How did it happen?" - -"I was just going to cross the bridge. The river looked so sleepy and -quiet, and so like a mirror, that I wondered if I could see my face, if -I bent close to it. I stepped on the bank, and it gave way under me, and -then I fell in; and to save myself from being sucked down I clung to the -bridge, and waited for you to come, for I didn't seem to have strength -to drag myself out." - -Agapit could not speak for a time. He was struggling with an intense -emotion that would have been unintelligible to her if he had expressed -it. At last he said, "How did you know that I was here?" - -"I saw you," said Bidiane, and she slightly slackened her pace, and -glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. - -"Through the window?" - -"Yes." - -"Why did you not come in?" - -"I did not wish to do so." - -"You are jealous," he exclaimed, and he endeavored to take her hand. - -"Let my hand alone,--you flatter yourself." - -"You were frightened there in the river, little one," he murmured. - -Bidiane paused for an instant, and gazed over her shoulder. "Your old -horse is nearly on my heels, and his eyes are like carriage lamps." - -"Back!" exclaimed Agapit, to the curious and irrepressible Turenne. - -"You say nothing of your election," remarked Bidiane. "Are you glad?" - -He drew a rapid breath, and turned his red face towards her again. "My -mind is in a whirl, little cousin, and my pulses are going like hammers. -You do not know what it is to sway men by the tongue. When one stands -up, and speaks, and the human faces spreading out like a flower-bed -change and lighten, or grow gloomy, as one wishes, it is majestic,--it -makes a man feel like a deity." - -"You will get on in the world," said Bidiane, impulsively. "You have it -in you." - -"But must I go alone?" he said, passionately. "Bidiane, you, though so -much younger, you understand me. I have been happy to-day, yes, happy, -for amid all the excitement, the changing faces, the buzzing of talk in -my ears, there has been one little countenance before me--" - -"Yes,--Rose's." - -"You treat me as if I were a boy," he said, vehemently, "on this day -when I was so important. Why are you so flippant?" - -"Don't be angry with me," she said, coaxingly. - -"Angry," he muttered, in a shocked voice. "I am not angry. How could I -be with you, whom I love so much?" - -"Easily," she murmured. "I scarcely wished to see you to-day. I almost -dreaded to hear you had been elected, for I thought you would be angry -because we--because Claudine, and my aunt, and I, talked against Mr. -Greening, and drove him out, and suggested you. I know men don't like to -be helped by women." - -"Your efforts counted," he said, patiently, and yet with desperate -haste, for they were rapidly nearing the inn, "yet you know Sleeping -Water is a small district, and the county is large. There was in some -places great dissatisfaction with Mr. Greening, but don't talk of him. -My dear one, will you--" - -"You don't know the worst thing about me," she interrupted, in a low -voice. "There was one dreadful thing I did." - -He checked an oncoming flow of endearing words, and stared at her. "You -have been flirting," he said at last. - -"Worse than that," she said, shamefacedly. "If you say first that you -will forgive me, I will tell you about it--no, I will not either. I -shall just tell you, and if you don't want to overlook it you need -not--why, what is the matter with you?" - -"Nothing, nothing," he muttered, with an averted face. He had suddenly -become as rigid as marble, and Bidiane surveyed him in bewildered -surprise, until a sudden illumination broke over her, when she lapsed -into nervous amusement. - -"You have always been very kind to me, very interested," she said, with -the utmost gentleness and sweetness; "surely you are not going to lose -patience now." - -"Go on," said Agapit, stonily, "tell me about this--this escapade." - -"How bad a thing would I have to do for you not to forgive me?" she -asked. - -"Bidiane--_de grâce_, continue." - -"But I want to know," she said, persistently. "Suppose I had just -murdered some one, and had not a friend in the world, would you stand by -me?" - -He would not reply to her, and she went on, "I know you think a good -deal of your honor, but the world is full of bad people. Some one ought -to love them--if you were going to be hanged to-morrow I would visit you -in your cell. I would take you flowers and something to eat, and I might -even go to the scaffold with you." - -Agapit in dumb anguish, and scarcely knowing what he did, snatched his -hat from his head and swung it to and fro. - -"You had better put on your hat," she said, amiably, "you will take -cold." - -Agapit, suddenly seized her by the shoulders and, holding her firmly, -but gently, stared into her eyes that were full of tears. "Ah! you amuse -yourself by torturing me," he said, with a groan of relief. "You are as -pure as a snowdrop, you have not been flirting." - -"Oh, I am so angry with you for being hateful and suspicious," she said, -proudly, and with a heaving bosom, and she averted her face to brush the -tears from her eyes. "You know I don't care a rap for any man in the -world but Mr. Nimmo, except the tiniest atom of respect for you." - -Agapit at once broke into abject apologies, and being graciously -forgiven, he humbly entreated her to continue the recital of her -misdeeds. - -"It was when we began to make _bombance_" she said, in a lofty tone. -"Every one assured us that we must have rum, but Claudine would not let -us take her money for it, because her husband drank until he made his -head queer and had that dreadful fall. She said to buy anything with her -money but liquor. We didn't know what to do until one day a man came in -and told us that if we wanted money we should go to the rich members of -our party. He mentioned Mr. Smith, in Weymouth, and I said, 'Well, I -will go and ask him for money to buy something for these wicked men to -stop them from voting for a wretch who calls us names.' 'But you must -not say that,' replied the man, and he laughed. 'You must go to Mr. -Smith and say, "There is an election coming on, and there will be great -doings at the Sleeping Water Inn, and it ought to be painted."' 'But it -has just been painted,' I said. 'Never mind,' he told me, 'it must be -painted.' Then I understood, and Claudine and I went to Mr. Smith, and -asked him if it would not be a wise thing to paint the inn, and he -laughed and said, 'By all manner of means, yes,--give it a good thick -coat and make it stick on well,' and he gave us some bills." - -"How many?" asked Agapit, for Bidiane's voice was sinking lower and -lower. - -"One hundred dollars,--just what Claudine had." - -"And you spent it, dearest child?" - -"Yes, it just melted away. You know how money goes. But I shall pay it -back some day." - -"How will you get the money?" - -"I don't know," she said, with a sigh. "I shall try to earn it." - -"You may earn it now, in the quarter of a minute," he said, fatuously. - -"And you call yourself an honest man--you talk against bribery and -corruption, you doubt poor lonely orphans when they are going to -confess little peccadilloes, and fancy in your wicked heart that they -have committed some awful sin!" said Bidiane, in low, withering tones. -"I think you had better go home, sir." - -They had arrived in front of the inn, and, although Agapit knew that she -ought to go at once and put off her wet shoes, he still lingered, and -said, delightedly, in low, cautious tones, "But, Bidiane, you have -surely a little affection for me--and one short kiss--very -short--certainly it would not be so wicked." - -"If you do not love a man, it is a crime to embrace him," she said, with -cold severity. - -"Then I look forward to more gracious times," he replied. "Good night, -little one, in twenty minutes I must be in Belliveau's Cove." - -Bidiane, strangely subdued in appearance, stood watching him as, with -eyes riveted on her, he extended a grasping hand towards Turenne's -hanging bridle. When he caught it he leaped into the saddle, and -Bidiane, supposing herself to be rid of him, mischievously blew him a -kiss from the tips of her fingers. - -In a trice he had thrown himself from Turenne's back and had caught her -as she started to run swiftly to the house. - -"Do not squeal, dear slippery eel," he said, laughingly, "thou hast -called me back, and I shall kiss thee. Now go," and he released her, as -she struggled in his embrace, laughing for the first time since her -capture by the river. "Once I have held you in my arms--now you will -come again," and shaking his head and with many a backward glance, he -set off through the rain and the darkness towards his waiting friends -and supporters, a few miles farther on. - -An hour later, Claudine left the vivacious, unwearied revellers below, -and went up-stairs to see whether Bidiane had returned home. She found -her in bed, staring thoughtfully at the ceiling. - -"Claudine," she said, turning her brown eyes on her friend and admirer, -"how did you feel when Isidore asked you to marry him?" - -"How did I feel--_miséricorde_, how can I tell? For one thing, I wished -that he would give up the drink." - -"But how did you feel towards him?" asked Bidiane, curiously. "Was it -like being lost in a big river, and swimming about for ages, and having -noises in your head, and some one else was swimming about trying to find -you, and you couldn't touch his hand for a long time, and then he -dragged you out to the shore, which was the shore of matrimony?" - -Claudine, who found nothing in the world more delectable than Bidiane's -fancies, giggled with delight. Then she asked her where she had spent -the evening. - -Bidiane related her adventure, whereupon Claudine said, dryly, "I guess -the other person in your river must be Agapit LeNoir." - -"Would you marry him if he asked you?" said Bidiane. - -"Mercy, how do I know--has he said anything of me?" - -"No, no," replied Bidiane, hastily. "He wants to marry me." - -"That's what I thought," said Claudine, soberly. "I can't tell you what -love is. You can't talk it. I guess he'll teach you if you give him a -chance. He's a good man, Bidiane. You'd better take him--it's an opening -for you, too. He'll get on out in the world." - -Bidiane laid her head back on her pillow, and slipped again into a hazy, -dreamy condition of mind, in which the ever recurring subject of -meditation was the one of the proper experience and manifestation of -love between men and the women they adore. - -"I don't love him, yet what makes me so cross when he looks at another -woman, even my beloved Rose?" she murmured; and with this puzzling -question bravely to the fore she fell asleep. - - - - - CHAPTER XIII. - - CHARLITTE COMES BACK. - - "From dawn to gloaming, and from dark to dawn, - Dreams the unvoiced, declining Michaelmas. - O'er all the orchards where a summer was - The noon is full of peace, and loiters on. - The branches stir not as the light airs run - All day; their stretching shadows slowly pass - Through the curled surface of the faded grass, - Telling the hours of the cloudless sun." - - J. F. H. - - -The last golden days of summer had come, and the Acadien farmers were -rejoicing in a bountiful harvest. Day by day huge wagons, heaped high -with grain, were driven to the threshing-mills, and day by day the -stores of vegetables and fruit laid in for the winter were increased in -barn and store-house. - -Everything had done well this year, even the flower gardens, and some of -the more pious of the women attributed their abundance of blossoms to -the blessing of the seeds by the parish priests. - -Agapit LeNoir, who now naturally took a broader and wider interest in -the affairs of his countrymen, sat on Rose à Charlitte's lawn, -discussing matters in general. Soon he would have to go to Halifax for -his first session of the local legislature. Since his election he had -come a little out of the shyness and reserve that had settled upon him -in his early manhood. He was now usually acknowledged to be a rising -young man, and one sure to become a credit to his nation and his -province. He would be a member of the Dominion Parliament some day, the -old people said, and in his more mature age he might even become a -Senator. He had obtained just what he had needed,--a start in life. -Everything was open to him now. With his racial zeal and love for his -countrymen, he could become a representative man,--an Acadien of the -Acadiens. - -Then, too, he would marry an accomplished wife, who would be of great -assistance to him, for it was a well-known fact that he was engaged to -his lively distant relative, Bidiane LeNoir, the young girl who had been -educated abroad by the Englishman from Boston. - -Just now he was talking to this same relative, who, instead of sitting -down quietly beside him, was pursuing an erratic course of wanderings -about the trees on the lawn. She professed to be looking for a robin's -deserted nest, but she was managing at the same time to give careful -attention to what her lover was saying, as he sat with eyes fixed now -upon her, now upon the Bay, and waved at intervals the long pipe that he -was smoking. - -"Yes," he said, continuing his subject, "that is one of the first things -I shall lay before the House--the lack of proper schoolhouse -accommodation on the Bay." - -"You are very much interested in the schoolhouses," said Bidiane, -sarcastically. "You have talked of them quite ten minutes." - -His face lighted up swiftly. "Let us return, then, to our old, old -subject,--will you not reconsider your cruel decision not to marry me, -and go with me to Halifax this autumn?" - -"No," said Bidiane, decidedly, yet with an evident liking for the topic -of conversation presented to her. "I have told you again and again that -I will not. I am surprised at your asking. Who would comfort our darling -Rose?" - -"Possibly, I say, only possibly, she is not as dependent upon us as you -imagine." - -"Dependent! of course she is dependent. Am I not with her nearly all the -time. See, there she comes,--the beauty! She grows more charming every -day. She is like those lovely Flemish women, who are so tall, and -graceful, and simple, and elegant, and whose heads are like burnished -gold. I wish you could see them, Agapit. Mr. Nimmo says they have -preserved intact the admirable _naïveté_ of the women of the Middle -Ages. Their husbands are often brutal, yet they never rebel." - -"Is _naïveté_ justifiable under those circumstances, _mignonne_?" - -"Hush,--she will hear you. Now what does that boy want, I wonder. Just -see him scampering up the road." - -He wished to see her, and was soon stumbling through a verbal message. -Bidiane kindly but firmly followed him in it, and, stopping him whenever -he used a corrupted French word, made him substitute another for it. - -"No, Raoul, not _j'étions_ but _j'étais_" (I was). "_Petit mieux_" (a -little better), "not _p'tit mieux_. _La rue_ not _la street_. _Ces -jeunes demoiselles_" (those young ladies), "not _ces jeunes ladies_." - -"They are so careless, these Acadiens of ours," she said, turning to -Agapit, with a despairing gesture. "This boy knows good French, yet he -speaks the impure. Why do his people say _becker_ for _baiser_" (kiss) -"and _gueule_ for _bouche_" (mouth) "and _échine_ for _dos_" (back)? "It -is so vulgar!" - -"Patience," muttered Agapit, "what does he wish?" - -"His sister Lucie wants you and me to go up to Grosses Coques this -evening to supper. Some of the D'Entremonts are coming from Pubnico. -There will be a big wagon filled with straw, and all the young people -from here are going, Raoul says. It will be fun; will you go?" - -"Yes, if it will please you." - -"It will," and she turned to the boy. "Run home, Raoul, and tell Lucie -that we accept her invitation. Thou art not vexed with me for correcting -thee?" - -"_Nenni_" (no), said the child, displaying a dimple in his cheek. - -Bidiane caught him and kissed him. "In the spring we will have great -fun, thou and I. We will go back to the woods, and with a sharp knife -tear the bark from young spruces, and eat the juicy _bobillon_ inside. -Then we will also find candy. Canst thou dig up the fern roots and peel -them until thou findest the tender morsel at the bottom?" - -"_Oui_," laughed the child, and Bidiane, after pushing him towards Rose, -for an embrace from her, conducted him to the gate. - -"Is there any use in asking Rose to go with us this evening?" she said, -coming back to Agapit, and speaking in an undertone. - -"No, I think not." - -"Why is it that she avoids all junketing, and sits only with sick -people?" - -He murmured an uneasy, unintelligible response, and Bidiane again -directed her attention to Rose. "What are you staring at so intently, -_ma chère_?" - -"That beautiful stranger," said Rose, nodding towards the Bay. "It is a -new sail." - -"Every woman on the Bay knows the ships but me," said Bidiane, -discontentedly. "I have got out of it from being so long away." - -"And why do the girls know the ships?" asked Agapit. - -Bidiane discreetly refused to answer him. - -"Because they have lovers on board. Your lover stays on shore, little -one." - -"And poor Rose looks over the sea," said Bidiane, dreamily. "I should -think that you might trust me now with the story of her trouble, -whatever it is, but you are so reserved, so fearful of making wild -statements. You don't treat me as well even as you do a business -person,--a client is it you call one?" - -Agapit smiled happily. "Marry me, then, and in becoming your advocate I -will deal plainly with you as a client, and state fully to you all the -facts of this case." - -"I daresay we shall have frightful quarrels when we are married," said -Bidiane, cheerfully. - -"I daresay." - -"Just see how Rose stares at that ship." - -"She is a beauty," said Agapit, critically, "and foreign rigged." - -There was "a free wind" blowing, and the beautiful stranger moved like a -graceful bird before it. Rose--the favorite occupation in whose quiet -life was to watch the white sails that passed up and down the Bay--still -kept her eyes fixed on it, and presently said, "The stranger is pointing -towards Sleeping Water." - -"I will get the marine glass," said Bidiane, running to the house. - -"She is putting out a boat," said Rose, when she came back. "She is -coming in to the wharf." - -"Allow me to see for one minute, Rose," said Agapit, and he extended his -hand for the glass; then silently watched the sailors running about and -looking no larger than ants on the distant deck. - -"They are not going to the wharf," said Bidiane. "They are making for -that rock by the inn bathing-house. Perhaps they will engage in -swimming." - -A slight color appeared in Rose's cheeks, and she glanced longingly at -the glass that Agapit still held. The mystery of the sea and the magic -of ships and of seafaring lives was interwoven with her whole being. She -felt an intense gentle interest in the strange sail and the foreign -sailors, and nothing would have given her greater pleasure than to have -shown them some kindness. - -"I wish," she murmured, "that I were now at the inn. They should have a -jug of cream, and some fresh fruit." - -The horseshoe cottage being situated on rising ground, a little beyond -the river, afforded the three people on the lawn an uninterrupted view -of the movements of the boat. While Bidiane prattled on, and severely -rebuked Agapit for his selfishness in keeping the glass to himself, Rose -watched the boat touching the big rocks, where one man sprang from it, -and walked towards the inn. - -She could see his figure in the distance, looking at first scarcely -larger than a black lead pencil, but soon taking on the dimensions of a -rather short, thick-set man. He remained stationary on the inn veranda -for a few minutes, then, leaving it, he passed down the village street. - -"It is some stranger from abroad, asking his way about," said Bidiane; -"one of the numerous Comeau tribe, no doubt. Oh, I hope he will go on -the drive to-night." - -"Why, I believe he is coming here," she exclaimed, after another period -of observation of the stranger's movements; "he is passing by all the -houses. Yes, he is turning in by the cutting through the hill. Who can -he be?" - -Rose and Agapit, grown strangely silent, did not answer her, and, -without thinking of examining their faces, she kept her eyes fixed on -the man rapidly approaching them. - -"He is neither old nor young," she said, vivaciously. "Yes, he is, -too,--he is old. His hair is quite gray. He swaggers a little bit. I -think he must be the captain of the beautiful stranger. There is an -indefinable something about him that doesn't belong to a common sailor; -don't you think so, Agapit?" - -Her red head tilted itself sideways, yet she still kept a watchful eye -on the newcomer. She could now see that he was quietly dressed in dark -brown clothes, that his complexion was also brown, his eyes small and -twinkling, his lips thick, and partly covered by a short, grizzled -mustache. He wore on his head a white straw hat, that he took off when -he neared the group. - -His face was now fully visible, and there was a wild cry from Rose. "Ah, -Charlitte, Charlitte,--you have come back!" - - - - - CHAPTER XIV. - - BIDIANE RECEIVES A SHOCK. - - "Whate'er thy lot, whoe'er thou be,-- - Confess thy folly, kiss the rod, - And in thy chastening sorrow, see - The hand of God." - - MONTGOMERY. - - -Bidiane flashed around upon her companions. Rose--pale, trembling, -almost unearthly in a beauty from which everything earthly and material -seemed to have been purged away--stood extending her hands to the -wanderer, her only expression one of profound thanksgiving for his -return. - -Agapit, on the contrary, sat stock-still, his face convulsed with -profound and bitter contempt, almost with hatred; and Bidiane, in -speechless astonishment, stared from him to the others. - -Charlitte was not dead,--he had returned; and Rose was not -surprised,--she was even glad to see him! What did it mean, and where -was Mr. Nimmo's share in this reunion? She clenched her hands, her eyes -filled with despairing tears, and, in subdued anger, she surveyed the -very ordinary-looking man, who had surrendered one of his brown hands to -Rose, in pleased satisfaction. - -"You are more stunning than ever, Rose," he said, coolly kissing her; -"and who is this young lady?" and he pointed a sturdy forefinger at -Bidiane, who stood in the background, trembling in every limb. - -"It is Bidiane LeNoir, Charlitte, from up the Bay. Bidiane, come shake -hands with my husband." - -"I forbid," said Agapit, calmly. He had recovered himself, and, with a -face as imperturbable as that of the sphinx, he now sat staring up into -the air. - -"Agapit," said Rose, pleadingly, "will you not greet my husband after -all these years?" - -"No," he said, "I will not," and coolly taking up his pipe he lighted -it, turned away from them, and began to smoke. - -Rose, with her blue eyes dimmed with tears, looked at her husband. "Do -not be displeased. He will forgive in time; he has been a brother to me -all the years that you have been away." - -Charlitte understood Agapit better than she did, and, shrugging his -shoulders as if to beg her not to distress herself, he busied himself -with staring at Bidiane, whose curiosity and bewilderment had culminated -in a kind of stupefaction, in which she stood surreptitiously pinching -her arm in order to convince herself that this wonderful reappearance -was real,--that the man sitting so quietly before her was actually the -husband of her beloved Rose. - -Charlitte's eyes twinkled mischievously, as he surveyed her. "Were you -ever shipwrecked, young lady?" he asked. - -Bidiane shuddered, and then, with difficulty, ejaculated, "No, never." - -"I was," said Charlitte, unblushingly, "on a cannibal island. All the -rest of the crew were eaten. I was the only one spared, and I was left -shut up in a hut in a palm grove until six months ago, when a passing -ship took me off and brought me to New York." - -Bidiane, by means of a vigorous effort, was able to partly restore her -mind to working order. Should she believe this man or not? She felt -dimly that she did not like him, yet she could not resist Rose's -touching, mute entreaty that she should bestow some recognition on the -returned one. Therefore she said, confusedly, "Those cannibals, where -did they live?" - -"In the South Sea Islands, 'way yonder," and Charlitte's eyes seemed to -twinkle into immense distance. - -Rose was hanging her head. This recital pained her, and before Bidiane -could again speak, she said, hurriedly, "Do not mention it. Our Lord and -the blessed Virgin have brought you home. Ah! how glad Father Duvair -will be, and the village." - -"Good heavens!" said Charlitte. "Do you think I care for the village. I -have come to see you." - -For the first time Rose shrank from him, and Agapit brought down his -eyes from the sky to glance keenly at him. - -"Charlitte," faltered Rose, "there have been great changes since you -went away. I--I--" and she hesitated, and looked at Bidiane. - -Bidiane shrank behind a spruce-tree near which she was standing, and -from its shelter looked out like a small red squirrel of an inquiring -turn of mind. She felt that she was about to be banished, and in the -present dazed state of her brain she dreaded to be alone. - -Agapit's inexorable gaze sought her out, and, taking his pipe from his -mouth, he sauntered over to her. "Wilt thou run away, little one? We may -have something to talk of not fit for thy tender ears." - -"Yes, I will," she murmured, shocked into unexpected submission by the -suppressed misery of his voice. "I will be in the garden," and she -darted away. - -The coast was now clear for any action the new arrival might choose to -take. His first proceeding was to stare hard at Agapit, as if he wished -that he, too, would take himself away; but this Agapit had no intention -of doing, and he smoked on imperturbably, pretending not to see -Charlitte's irritated glances, and keeping his own fixed on the azure -depths of the sky. - -"You mention changes," said Charlitte, at last, turning to his wife. -"What changes?" - -"You have just arrived, you have heard nothing,--and yet there would be -little to hear about me, and Sleeping Water does not change -much,--yet--" - -Charlitte's cool glance wandered contemptuously over that part of the -village nearest them. "It is dull here,--as dull as the cannibal -islands. I think moss would grow on me if I stayed." - -"But it would break my heart to leave it," said Rose, desperately. - -"I would take good care of you," he said, jocularly. "We would go to New -Orleans. You would amuse yourself well. There are young men -there,--plenty of them,--far smarter than the boys on the Bay." - -Rose was in an agony. With frantic eyes she devoured the cool, cynical -face of her husband, then, with a low cry, she fell on her knees before -him. "Charlitte, Charlitte, I must confess." - -Charlitte at once became intensely interested, and forgot to watch -Agapit, who, however, got up, and, savagely biting his pipe, strolled -to a little distance. - -"I have done wrong, my husband," sobbed Rose. - -Charlitte's eyes twinkled. Was he going to hear a confession of guilt -that would make his own seem lighter? - -"Forgive me, forgive me," she moaned. "My heart is glad that you have -come back, yet, oh, my husband, I must tell you that it also cries out -for another." - -"For Agapit?" he said, kindly, stroking her clenched hands. - -"No,--no, no, for a stranger. You know I never loved you as a woman -should love her husband. I was so young when I married. I thought only -of attending to my house. Then you went away; I was sorry, so sorry, -when news came of your death, but my heart was not broken. Five years -ago this stranger came, and I felt--oh, I cannot tell you--but I found -what this love was. Then I had to send him away, but, although he was -gone, he seemed to be still with me. I thought of him all the time,--the -wind seemed to whisper his words in my ear as I walked. I saw his -handsome face, his smiling eyes. I went daily over the paths his feet -used to take. After a long, long time, I was able to tear him from my -mind. Now I know that I shall never see him again, that I shall only -meet him after I die, yet I feel that I belong to him, that he belongs -to me. Oh, my husband, this is love, and is it right that, feeling so, I -should go with you?" - -"Who is this man?" asked Charlitte. "What is he called?" - -Rose winced. "Vesper is his name; Vesper Nimmo,--but do not let us talk -of him. I have put him from my mind." - -"Did he make love to you?" - -"Oh, yes; but let us pass that over,--it is wicked to talk of it now." - -Charlitte, who was not troubled with any delicacy of feeling, was about -to put some searching and crucial questions to her, but forbore, moved, -despite himself, by the anguish and innocence of the gaze bent upon him. -"Where is he now?" - -"In Paris. I have done wrong, wrong," and she again buried her face in -her hands, and her whole frame shook with emotion. "Having had one -husband, it would have been better to have thought only of him. I do not -think one should marry again, unless--" - -"Nonsense," said Charlitte, abruptly. "The fellow should have married -you. He got tired, I guess. By this time he's had half a dozen other -fancies." - -Rose shrank from him in speechless horror, and, seeing it, Charlitte -made haste to change the subject of conversation. "Where is the boy?" - -"He is with him," she said, hurriedly. - -"That was pretty cute in you," said Charlitte, with a good-natured -vulgar laugh. "You were afraid I'd come home and take him from you,--you -always were a little fool, Rose. Get up off the grass, and sit down, and -don't distress yourself so. This isn't a hanging matter, and I'm not -going to bully you; I never did." - -"No, never," she said, with a fresh outburst of tears. "You were always -kind, my husband." - -"I think our marriage was all a mistake," he said, good-humoredly, "but -we can't undo it. I knew you never liked me,--if you had, I might -never--that is, things might have been different. Tell me now when that -fool, Agapit, first began to set you against me?" - -"He has not set me against you, my husband; he rarely speaks of you." - -"When did you first find out that I wasn't dead?" said Charlitte, -persistently; and Rose, who was as wax in his hands, was soon saying, -hesitatingly, "I first knew that he did not care for you when Mr. Nimmo -went away." - -"How did you know?" - -"He broke your picture, my husband,--oh, do not make me tell what I do -not wish to." - -"How did he break it?" asked Charlitte, and his face darkened. - -"He struck it with his hand,--but I had it mended." - -"He was mad because I was keeping you from the other fellow. Then he -told you that you had better give him the mitten?" - -"Yes," said Rose, sighing heavily, and sitting mute, like a prisoner -awaiting sentence. - -"You have not done quite right, Rose," said her husband, mildly, "not -quite right. It would have been better for you to have given that -stranger the go by. He was only amusing himself. Still, I can't blame -you. You're young, and mighty fine looking, and you've kept on the -straight through your widowhood. I heard once from some sailors how you -kept the young fellows off, and you always said you'd had a good -husband. I shall never forget that you called me good, Rose, for there -are some folks that think I am pretty bad." - -"Then they are evil folks," she said, tremulously; "are we not all -sinners? Does not our Lord command us to forgive those who repent?" - -A curious light came into Charlitte's eyes, and he put his tongue in his -cheek. Then he went on, calmly. "I'm on my way from Turk's Island to -Saint John, New Brunswick,--I've got a cargo of salt to unload there, -and, 'pon my word, I hadn't a thought of calling here until I got up in -the Bay, working towards Petit Passage. I guess it was old habit that -made me run for this place, and I thought I'd give you a call, and see -if you were moping to death, and wanted to go away with me. If you do, -I'll be glad to have you. If not, I'll not bother you." - -A deadly faintness came over Rose. "Charlitte, are you not sorry for -your sin? Ah! tell me that you repent. And will you not talk to Father -Duvair? So many quiet nights I think of you and pray that you may -understand that you are being led into this wickedness. That other -woman,--she is still living?" - -"What other woman? Oh, Lord, yes,--I thought that fool Agapit had had -spies on me." - -Rose was so near fainting that she only half comprehended what he said. - -"I wish you'd come with me," he went on, jocosely. "If you happened to -worry I'd send you back to this dull little hole. You're not going to -swoon, are you? Here, put your head on this," and he drew up to her a -small table on which Bidiane had been playing solitaire. "You used not -to be delicate." - -"I am not now," she whispered, dropping her head on her folded arms, -"but I cannot hold myself up. When I saw you come, I thought it was to -say you were sorry. Now--" - -"Come, brace up, Rose," he said, uneasily. "I'll sit down beside you for -awhile. There's lots of time for me to repent yet," and he chuckled -shortly and struck his broad chest with his fist. "I'm as strong as a -horse; there's nothing wrong with me, except a little rheumatism, and -I'll outgrow that. I'm only fifty-two, and my father died at ninety. -Come on, girl,--don't cry. I wish I hadn't started this talk of taking -you away. You'd be glad of it, though, if you'd go. Listen till I tell -you what a fine place New Orleans is--" - -Rose did not listen to him. She still sat with her flaxen head bowed on -her arms, that rested on the little table. She was a perfect picture of -silent, yet agitated distress. - -"You are not praying, are you?" asked her husband, in a disturbed -manner. "I believe you are. Come, I'll go away." - -For some time there was no movement in the half prostrated figure, then -the head moved slightly, and Charlitte caught a faint sentence, "Repent, -my husband." - -"Yes, I repent," he said, hastily. "Good Lord, I'll do anything. Only -cheer up and let me out of this." - -The grief-stricken Rose pushed back the hair from her tear-stained face -and slowly raised her head from her arms. - -It was only necessary for her to show that face to her husband. So -impressed was it with the stamp of intense anguish of mind, of grief for -his past delinquencies of conduct, of a sorrow nobly, quietly borne -through long years, that even he--callous, careless, and -thoughtless--was profoundly moved. - -For a long time he was silent. Then his lip trembled and he turned his -head aside. "'Pon my word, Rose,--I didn't think you'd fret like this. -I'll do better; let me go now." - -One of her hands stole with velvety clasp to his brown wrists, and while -the gentle touch lasted he sat still, listening with an averted face to -the words whispered in his ear. - -Agapit, in the meantime, was walking in the garden with Bidiane. He had -told her all that she wished to know with regard to the recreant -husband, and in a passionate, resentful state of mind she was storming -to and fro, scarcely knowing what she said. - -"It is abominable, treacherous!--and we stand idly here. Go and drive -him away, Agapit. He should not be allowed to speak to our spotless -Rose. I should think that the skies would fall--and I spoke to him, the -traitor! Go, Agapit,--I wish you would knock him down." - -Agapit, with an indulgent glance, stood at a little distance from her, -softly murmuring, from time to time, "You are very young, Bidiane." - -"Young! I am glad that I am young, so that I can feel angry. You are -stolid, unfeeling. You care nothing for Rose. I shall go myself and -tell that wretch to his face what I think of him." - -She was actually starting, but Agapit caught her gently by the arm. -"Bidiane, restrain yourself," and drawing her under the friendly shade -of a solitary pine-tree that had been left when the garden was made, he -smoothed her angry cheeks and kissed her hot forehead. - -"You condone his offence,--you, also, some day, will leave me for some -woman," she gasped. - -"This from you to me," he said, quietly and proudly, "when you know that -we Acadiens are proud of our virtue,--of the virtue of our women -particularly; and if the women are pure, it is because the men are so." - -"Rose cannot love that demon," exclaimed Bidiane. - -"No, she does not love him, but she understands what you will understand -when you are older,--the awful sacredness of the marriage tie. Think of -one of the sentences that she read to us last Sunday from Thomas à -Kempis: 'A pure heart penetrates heaven and hell.' She has been in a -hell of suffering herself. I think when in it she wished her husband -were dead. Her charity is therefore infinite towards him. Her sins of -thought are equal in her chastened mind to his sins of body." - -"But you will not let her go away with him?" - -"She will not wish to go, my treasure. She talks to him, and repent, -repent, is, I am sure, the burden of her cry. You do not understand that -under her gentleness is a stern resolve. She will be soft and kind, yet -she would die rather than live with Charlitte or surrender her child to -him." - -"But he may wish to stay here," faltered Bidiane. - -"He will not stay with her, _chérie_. She is no longer a girl, but a -woman. She is not resentful, yet Charlitte has sinned deeply against -her, and she remembers,--and now I must return to her. Charlitte has -little delicacy of feeling, and may stay too long." - -"Wait a minute, Agapit,--is it her money that he is after?" - -"No, little one, he is not mercenary. He would not take money from a -woman. He also would not give her any unless she begged him to do so. I -think that his visit is a mere caprice that, however, if humored, would -degenerate into a carrying away of Rose,--and now _au revoir_." - -Bidiane, in her excited, overstrained condition of mind, bestowed one of -her infrequent caresses on him, and Agapit, in mingled surprise and -gratification, found a pair of loving arms flung around his neck, and -heard a frantic whisper: "If you ever do anything bad, I shall kill you; -but you will not, for you are good." - -"Thank you. If I am faithless you may kill me," and, reluctantly leaving -her, he strode along the summit of the slight hill on which the house -stood, until he caught sight of the tableau on the lawn. - -Charlitte was just leaving his wife. His head was hanging on his breast; -he looked ashamed of himself, and in haste to be gone, yet he paused and -cast an occasional stealthy and regretful glance at Rose, who, with a -face aglow with angelic forgiveness, seemed to be bestowing a parting -benediction on him. - -The next time that he lifted his head, his small, sharp eyes caught -sight of Agapit, whereupon he immediately snatched his hand from Rose, -and hastily began to descend the hill towards the river. - -Rose remained standing, and silently watched him. She did not look at -Agapit,--her eyes were riveted on her husband. Something within her -seemed to cry out as his feet carried him down the hill to the brink of -the inexorable stream, where the bones of so many of his countrymen lay. - -"_Adieu_, my husband," she called, suddenly and pleadingly, "thou wilt -not forget." - -Charlitte paused just before he reached the bridge, and, little dreaming -that his feet were never to cross its planks, he swept a glance over the -peaceful Bay, the waiting boat, and the beautiful ship. Then he turned -and waved his hand to his wife, and for one instant, they remembered -afterwards, he put a finger on his breast, where lay a crucifix that -she had just given him. - -"_Adjheu_, Rose," he called, loudly, "I will remember." At the same -minute, however, that the smile of farewell lighted up his face, an oath -slipped to his lips, and he stepped back from the bridge. - - - - - CHAPTER XV. - - THE BEAUTIFUL STRANGER GOES AWAY WITHOUT HER CAPTAIN. - - "Repentance is the relinquishment of any practice from the - conviction that it has offended God. Sorrow, fear, and anxiety - are properly not parts but adjuncts of repentance, yet they are - too closely connected with it to be easily separated." - - --_Rambler._ - - -Charlitte did not plan to show himself at all in Sleeping Water. He -possessed a toughened conscience and moral fibre calculated to stand a -considerably heavy strain, yet some blind instinct warned him that he -had better seek no conversation with his friends of former days. - -For this reason he had avoided the corner on his way to Rose's house, -but he had not been able to keep secret the news of his arrival. Some -women at the windows had recognized him, and a few loungers at the -corner had strolled down to his boat, and had conversed with the -sailors, who, although Norwegians, yet knew enough English to tell their -captain's name, which, according to a custom prevailing among Acadiens, -was simply the French name turned into English. Charlitte de Forêt had -become Charlitte Forrest. - -Emmanuel de la Rive was terribly excited. He had just come from the -station with the afternoon mail, and, on hearing that Charlitte was -alive, and had actually arrived, he had immediately put himself at the -head of a contingent of men, who proposed to go up to the cottage and -ascertain the truth of the case. If it were so,--and it must be -so,--what a wonderful, what an extraordinary occurrence! Sleeping Water -had never known anything like this, and he jabbered steadily all the way -up to the cottage. - -Charlitte saw them coming,--this crowd of old friends, headed by the -mail-driver in the red jacket, and he looked helplessly up at Rose. - -"Come back," she called; "come and receive your friends with me." - -Charlitte, however, glanced at Agapit, and preferred to stay where he -was, and in a trice Emmanuel and the other men and boys were beside him, -grasping his hands, vociferating congratulations on his escape from -death, and plying him with inquiries as to the precise quarter of the -globe in which the last few years of his existence had been passed. - -Charlitte, unable to stave off the questions showered upon him, was -tortured by a desire to yield to his rough and sailorlike sense of -humor, and entertain himself for a few minutes at the expense of his -friends by regaling them with his monstrous yarns of shipwreck and -escape from the cannibal islands. - -Something restrained him. He glanced up at Rose, and saw that she had -lost hope of his returning to her. She was gliding down the hill towards -him,--a loving, anxious, guardian angel. - -He could not tell lies in her presence. "Come, boys," he said, with -coarse good nature. "Come on to my ship, I'll take you all aboard." - -Emmanuel, in a perfect intoxication of delight and eager curiosity, -crowded close to Charlitte, as the throng of men and boys turned and -began to surge over the bridge, and the hero of the moment, his -attention caught by the bright jacket, singled Emmanuel out for special -attention, and even linked his arm in his as they went. - -Bidiane, weary of her long stay in the garden, at that minute came -around the corner of the house on a reconnoitring expedition. Her brown -eyes took in the whole scene,--Rose hurrying down the hill, Agapit -standing silently on it, and the swarm of men surrounding the newcomer -like happy buzzing bees, while they joyfully escorted him away from the -cottage. - -This was the picture for an instant before her, then simultaneously with -a warning cry from Agapit,--"The bridge, _mon Dieu_! Do not linger on -it; you are a strong pressure!"--there was a sudden crash, a brief and -profound silence, then a great splashing, accompanied by shouts and -cries of astonishment. - -The slight rustic structure had given way under the unusually heavy -weight imposed upon it, and a score or two of the men of Sleeping Water -were being subjected to a thorough ducking. - -However, they were all used to the water, their lives were partly passed -on the sea, and they were all accomplished swimmers. As one head after -another came bobbing up from the treacherous river, it was greeted with -cries and jeers from dripping figures seated on the grass, or crawling -over the muddy banks. - -Célina ran from the house, and Jovite from the stable, both shrieking -with laughter. Only Agapit looked grave, and, snatching a hammock from a -tree, he ran down the hill to the place where Rose stood with clasped -hands. - -"Where is Charlitte?" she cried, "and Emmanuel?--they were close -together; I do not see them." - -A sudden hush followed her words. Every man sprang to his feet. -Emmanuel's red jacket was nowhere to be seen,--in the first excitement -they had not missed him,--neither was Charlitte visible. - -They must be still at the bottom of the river, locked in a friendly -embrace. Rose's wild cry pierced the hearts of her fellow countrymen, -and in an instant some of the dripping figures were again in the river. - -Agapit was one of the most expert divers present, and he at once took -off his coat and his boots. Bidiane threw herself upon him, but he -pushed her aside and, putting his hands before him, plunged down towards -the exact spot where he had last seen Charlitte. - -The girl, in wild terror, turned to Rose, who stood motionless, her lips -moving, her eyes fixed on the black river. "Ah, God! there is no bottom -to it,--Rose, Rose, call him back!" - -Rose did not respond, and Bidiane ran frantically to and fro on the -bank. The muddy water was splashed up in her face, there was a constant -appearance of heads, and disappearance of feet. Her lover would be -suffocated there below, he stayed so long,--and in her despair she was -in danger of slipping in herself, until Rose came to her rescue and held -her firmly by her dress. - -After a space of time, that seemed interminably long, but that in -reality lasted only a few minutes, there was a confused disturbance of -the surface of the water about the remains of the wrecked bridge. Then -two or three arms appeared,--a muddy form encased in a besmeared bright -jacket was drawn out, and willing hands on the bank received it, and in -desperate haste made attempts at resuscitation. - -"Go, Célina, to the house,--heat water and blankets," said Rose, turning -her deathly pale face towards her maid; "and do you, Lionel and Sylvain, -kindly help her. Run, Jovite, and telephone for a doctor--oh, be quick! -Ah, Charlitte, Charlitte!" and with a distracted cry she fell on her -knees beside the inanimate drenched form laid at her feet. Tears rained -down her cheeks, yet she rapidly and skilfully superintended the efforts -made for restoration. Her hands assisted in raising the inert back. She -feverishly lifted the silent tongue, and endeavored to force air to the -choked lungs, and her friends, with covert pitying glances, zealously -assisted her. - -"There is no hope, Rose," said Agapit, at last. "You are wasting your -strength, and keeping these brave fellows in their wet clothes." - -Her face grew stony, yet she managed to articulate, "But I have heard -even if after the lapse of hours,--if one works hard--" - -"There is no hope," he said, again. "We found him by the bank. There was -timber above him, he was suffocated in mud." - -She looked up at him piteously, then she again burst into tears, and -threw herself across the body. "Go, dear friends,--leave me alone with -him. Oh, Charlitte, Charlitte!--that I should have lived to see this -day." - -"Emmanuel is also dead," said Agapit, in a low voice. - -"Emmanuel,--good, kind Emmanuel,--the beloved of all the village; not -so--" and she painfully lifted her head and stared at the second -prostrate figure. - -The men were all standing around him weeping. They were not ashamed of -their tears,--these kind-hearted, gentle Acadiens. Such a calamity had -seldom befallen their village. It was equal to the sad wrecks of winter. - -Rose's overwrought brain gave way as she gazed, and she fell senseless -by Charlitte's dead body. - -Agapit carried her to the house, and laid her in her bed in the room -that she was not to leave for many days. - -"This is an awful time," said Célina, sobbing bitterly, and addressing -the mute and terrified Bidiane. "Let us pray for the souls of those poor -men who died without the last sacraments." - -"Let us pray rather for the soul of one who repented on his death-bed," -muttered Agapit, staring with white lips at the men who were carrying -the body of Charlitte into one of the lower rooms of the house. - - - - - CHAPTER XVI. - - AN ACADIEN FESTIVAL. - - "Vive Jésus! - Vive Jésus! - Avec la croix, son cher partage. - Vive Jésus! - Dans les coeurs de tous les élus! - Portons la croix. - - * * * * * - - Sans choix, sans ennui, sans murmure, - Portons la croix! - Quoique très amère et très dure, - Malgré les sens et la nature, - Portons la croix!" - - --_Acadien Song._ - - -Charlitte had been in his grave for nearly two years. He slept -peacefully in the little green cemetery hard by the white church where a -slender, sorrowful woman came twice every week to hear a priest repeat -masses for the repose of his soul. - -He slept on and gave no sign, and his countrymen came and went above -him, reflecting occasionally on their own end, but mostly, after the -manner of all men, allowing their thoughts to linger rather on matters -pertaining to time than on those of eternity. - -One fifteenth of August--the day consecrated by Acadiens all over Canada -to the memory of their forefathers--had come and gone, and another had -arrived. - -This day was one of heavenly peace and calm. The sky was faintly, -exquisitely blue, and so placid was the Bay that the occupants of the -boats crossing from Digby Neck to some of the churches in Frenchtown -were forced to take in their sails, and apply themselves to their oars. - -Since early morning the roads of the parish in which Sleeping Water is -situated had been black with people, and now at ten o'clock some two -thousand Acadiens were assembled about the doors of the old church at -Pointe à l'Eglise. - -There was no talking, no laughing. In unbroken silence they waited for -the sound of the bell, and when it came they flocked into the church, -packing it full, and overflowing out to the broad flight of steps, where -they knelt in rows and tried to obtain glimpses over each other's -shoulders of the blue and white decorations inside, and of the altar -ablaze with lights. - -The priests from the college and glebe-house, robed in handsome -vestments, filed out from the vestry, and, quietly approaching the -silken banners standing against the low gallery, handed them to -representatives of different societies connected with the church. - -The children of the Guardian Angel received the picture of their patron -saint, and, gathering around it, fluttered soberly out to the open air -through the narrow lane left among the kneeling worshippers. - -The children of the Society of Mary followed them, their white-clad and -veiled figures clustering about the pale, pitying Virgin carried by two -of their number. A banner waving beside her bore the prayer, "_Marie, -Priez Pour Nous_" (Mary, pray for us), and, as if responding to the -petition, her two hands were extended in blessing over them. - -After the troop of snowy girls walked the black sisters in big bonnets -and drooping shawls, and the brown sisters, assistants to the Eudists, -who wore black veils with white flaps against their pale faces. Then -came the priests, altar boys, and all the congregation. Until they left -the church the organ played an accompaniment to their chanting. On the -steps a young deacon put a cornet to his lips, and, taking up the last -note of the organ, prolonged it into a vigorous leadership of the -singing: - - Ave maris Stella, - Dei mater alma, - Atque semper virgo - Felix coeli porta. - -As the congregation sang, they crossed the road to the gates of the -college grounds, and divided into two parts, the men, with heads -uncovered, going one side, and the women on the other. - -Above the gate-posts waved two flags, the union jack and the Acadien -national flag,--a French tricolor, crossed by a blue stripe, and pierced -with a yellow star. - -Slowly and solemnly the long array of men and women passed by the -glebe-house and the white marble tomb of the good Abbé, whose life was -given to the Acadiens of the Bay Saint-Mary. The hymns sung by the -priests at the head of the procession floated back to the congregation -in the rear, and at the moment when the singing was beginning to die -away in the distance and the procession was winding out of sight behind -the big college, two strangers suddenly appeared on the scene. - -They were a slender, elegant man and a beautiful lad of a clear, healthy -pallor of skin. The man, with a look of grave, quiet happiness on his -handsome face, stepped from the carriage in which they were driving, -fastened his horse to a near fence, and threw a longing glance after the -disappearing procession. - -"If we hurry, Narcisse," he said, "we shall be able to overtake them." - -The lad at once placed himself beside him, and together they went on -their way towards the gates. - -"Do you remember it?" asked the man, softly, as the boy lifted his hat -when they passed by the door of the silent, decorated church. - -"Yes, perfectly," he said, with a sweet, delicate intonation of voice. -"It seems as if my mother must be kneeling there." - -Vesper's brow and cheeks immediately became suffused with crimson. "She -is probably on ahead. We will find out. If she is not, we shall drive at -once to Sleeping Water." - -They hurried on silently. The procession was now moving through another -gate, this one opening on the point of land where are the ruins of the -first church that the good Abbé built on the Bay. - -Beside its crumbling ruins and the prostrate altarstones a new, fresh -altar had been put up,--this one for temporary use. It was a veritable -bower of green amid which bloomed many flowers, the fragile nurslings of -the sisters in the adjacent convent. - -Before this altar the priests and deacons knelt for an instant on -colored rugs, then, while the people gathered closely around them, an -Acadien Abbé from the neighboring province of New Brunswick ascended the -steps of the altar, and, standing beside the embowered Virgin mother, -special patron and protectress of his race, he delivered a fervent -panegyric on the ancestors of the men and women before him. - -While he recounted the struggles and trials of the early Acadiens, many -of his hearers wept silently, but when this second good Abbé eloquently -exhorted them not to linger too long on a sad past, but to gird -themselves for a glorious future, to be constant to their race and to -their religion, their faces cleared,--they were no longer a prey to -mournful recollections. - -Vesper, holding his hat in his hand, and closely accompanied by -Narcisse, moved slowly nearer and nearer to a man who stood with his -face half hidden by his black hat. - -It was Agapit, and at Vesper's touch he started slightly, then, for he -would not speak on this solemn occasion, he extended a hand that was -grasped in the firm and enduring clasp of a friendship that would not -again be broken. - -Vesper would never forget that, amid all the bustle and confusion -succeeding Charlitte's death, Agapit had found time to send him a cable -message,--"Charlitte is dead." - -After communicating with Agapit, Vesper drew the boy nearer to him, and -fell back a little. He was inexpressibly moved. A few years ago he would -have called this "perverted Christianity--Mariolatry." Now, now--"O -God!" he muttered, "my pure saint, she has genuine piety," and under wet -lashes he stole a glance at one form, preëminently beautiful among the -group of straight and slim young Acadien women beyond him. She was -there,--his heart's delight, his treasure. She was his. The holy, rapt -expression would give place to one more earthly, more self-conscious. He -would not surrender her to heaven just yet,--but still, would it not be -heaven on earth to be united to her? - -She did not know that he was near. In complete oblivion of her -surroundings she followed the singing of the Tantum Ergo. When the -benediction was over, she lifted her bowed head, her eyes turned once -towards the cemetery. She was thinking of Charlitte. - -The sensitive Narcisse trembled. The excess of melancholy and -sentimental feeling about him penetrated to his soul, and Vesper -withdrew with him to the edge of the crowd. Then before the procession -re-formed to march back to the church, they took up their station by the -college gates. - -All the Acadiens saw him there as they approached,--all but Rose. - -She only raised her eyes from her prayer-book to fix them on the sky. -She alone of the women seemed to be so wholly absorbed in a religious -fervor that she did not know where she was going nor what she was doing. - -Some of the Acadiens looked doubtfully at Vesper. Since the death of her -husband, whose treachery towards her had in some way been discovered, -she had been regarded more than ever as a saint,--as one set apart -for prayer and meditation almost as much as if she had been consecrated -to them. Would she give up her saintly life for marriage with the -Englishman? - -Would she do it? Surely this holy hour was the wrong time to ask her, -and they waited breathlessly until they reached the gates where the -procession was to break up. There she discovered Vesper. In the face of -all the congregation he had stepped up and was holding out his hand to -her. - -She did not hesitate an instant. She did not even seem to be surprised. -An expression of joyful surrender sprang to her face; in silent, solemn -ecstasy she took her lover's hand, and, throwing her arm around the neck -of her recovered child, she started with them on the long road down the -Bay. - -[Illustration: "THROWING HER ARM AROUND THE NECK OF HER RECOVERED -CHILD."] - - * * * * * - -All this happened a few years ago, but the story is yet going on. If you -come from Boston to-day, and take your wheel or carriage at -Yarmouth,--for the strong winds blow one up and not down the Bay,--you -will, after passing through Salmon River, Chéticamp, Meteghan, -Saulnierville, and other places, come to the swinging sign of the -Sleeping Water Inn. - -There, if you stop, you will be taken good care of by Claudine and -Mirabelle Marie,--who is really a vastly improved woman. - -Perhaps among all the two hundred thousand Acadiens scattered throughout -the Maritime Provinces of Canada there is not a more interesting inn -than that of Sleeping Water. They will give you good meals and keep your -room tidy, and they will also show you--if you are really interested in -the Acadien French--a pretty cottage in the form of a horseshoe that was -moved bodily away from the wicked Sleeping Water River and placed in a -flat green field by the shore. To it, you will be informed, comes every -year a family from Boston, consisting of an Englishman and his wife, his -mother and two children. They will describe the family to you, or -perhaps, if it is summer-time, you may see the Englishman himself, -riding a tall bay horse and looking affectionately at a beautiful lad -who accompanies him on a glossy black steed rejoicing in the name of -Toochune. - -The Englishman is a man of wealth and many schemes. He has organized a -company for the planting and cultivation of trees along the shore of the -charming, but certainly wind-swept Bay. He also is busy now surveying -the coast for the carrying out of his long-cherished plan of an electric -railway running along the shore. - -He will yet have it, the Acadiens say, but in the meantime he amuses -himself by viewing the land and interviewing the people, and when he is -weary he rides home to the cottage where his pale, fragile mother is -looking eagerly for her adopted, idolized grandchild Narcisse, and where -his wife sits by the window and waits for him. - -As she waits she often smiles and gazes down at her lap where lies a -tiny creature,--a little girl whose eyes and mouth are her own, but -whose hair is the hair of Vesper. - -Perhaps you will go to Sleeping Water by the train. If so, do not look -out for the red coat which always used to be the distinguishing mark of -this place, and do not mention Emmanuel's name to the woman who keeps -the station, nor to her husband, for they were very fond of him, and if -you speak of the red-jacketed mail-man they will turn aside to hide -their tears. - -Nannichette and her husband have come out of the woods and live by the -shore. Mirabelle Marie has persuaded the former to go to mass with her. -The Indian in secret delight says nothing, but occasionally he utters a -happy grunt. - -Bidiane and her husband live in Weymouth. Their _ménage_ is small and -unambitious as yet, in order that they may do great things in the -future, Bidiane says. She is absolutely charming when she ties a -handkerchief on her head and sweeps out her rooms; and sometimes she -cooks. - -Often at such times she scampers across a yard that separates her from -her husband's office, and, after looking in his window to make sure that -he is alone, she flies in, startles and half suffocates him by throwing -her arms around his neck and stuffing in his mouth or his pocket some -new and delectable dainty known only to herself and the cook-book. - -She is very happy, and turns with delight from her winter visits to -Halifax, where, however, she manages to enjoy herself hugely, to her -summer on the Bay, when she can enjoy the most congenial society in the -world to her and to her husband,--that of Vesper Nimmo and his wife -Rose. - - THE END. - - - - -_SELECTIONS FROM L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S LIST OF NEW FICTION._ - -[Illustration] - - - - - Selections from - L. C. Page and Company's - List of New Fiction. - - -An Enemy to the King. - - From the Recently Discovered Memoirs of the - Sieur de la Tournoire. By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS. - Illustrated by H. De M. Young. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= - - An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing the - adventures of a young French nobleman at the Court of Henry IV., - and on the field with Henry of Navarre. - - -The Continental Dragoon. - - A Romance of Philipse Manor House, in 1778. - By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author of "An Enemy - to the King." Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - A stirring romance of the Revolution, the scene being laid in and - around the old Philipse Manor House, near Yonkers, which at the - time of the story was the central point of the so-called "neutral - territory" between the two armies. - - -Muriella; or, Le Selve. - - By OUIDA. Illustrated by M. B. Prendergast. - 1 vol., library 12 mo, cloth =$1.25= - - This is the latest work from the pen of the brilliant author of - "Under Two Flags," "Moths," etc., etc. It is the story of the love - and sacrifice of a young peasant girl, told in the absorbing style - peculiar to the author. - - -The Road to Paris. - - By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author of "An - Enemy to the King," "The Continental Dragoon," - etc. Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. (In press.) - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - An historical romance, being an account of the life of an American - gentleman adventurer of Jacobite ancestry, whose family early - settled in the colony of Pennsylvania. The scene shifts from the - unsettled forests of the then West to Philadelphia, New York, - London, Paris, and, in fact, wherever a love of adventure and a - roving fancy can lead a soldier of fortune. The story is written in - Mr. Stephens's best style, and is of absorbing interest. - - -Rose à Charlitte. - - An Acadien Romance. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, - author of "Beautiful Joe," etc. Illustrated by H. - De M. Young. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - In this novel, the scene of which is laid principally in the land - of Evangeline, Marshall Saunders has made a departure from the - style of her earlier successes. The historical and descriptive - setting of the novel is accurate, the plot is well conceived and - executed, the characters are drawn with a firm and delightful - touch, and the fortunes of the heroine, Rose à Charlitte, a - descendant of an old Acadien family, will be followed with - eagerness by the author's host of admirers. - - -Bobbie McDuff. - - By CLINTON ROSS, author of "The Scarlet Coat," - "Zuleika," etc. Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst. - 1 vol., large 16mo, cloth =$1.00= - - Clinton Ross is well known as one of the most promising of recent - American writers of fiction, and in the description of the - adventures of his latest hero, Bobbie McDuff, he has repeated his - earlier successes. Mr. Ross has made good use of the wealth of - material at his command. New York furnishes him the hero, sunny - Italy a heroine, grim Russia the villain of the story, while the - requirements of the exciting plot shift the scene from Paris to New - York, and back again to a remote, almost feudal villa on the - southern coast of Italy. - - -In Kings' Houses. - - A Romance of the Reign of Queen Anne. By - JULIA C. R. DORR, author of "A Cathedral Pilgrimage," - etc. Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - Mrs. Dorr's poems and travel sketches have earned for her a - distinct place in American literature, and her romance, "In Kings' - Houses," is written with all the charm of her earlier works. The - story deals with one of the most romantic episodes in English - history. Queen Anne, the last of the reigning Stuarts, is described - with a strong, yet sympathetic touch, and the young Duke of - Gloster, the "little lady," and the hero of the tale, Robin Sandys, - are delightful characterizations. - - -Sons of Adversity. - - A Romance of Queen Elizabeth's Time. By L. - COPE CONFORD, author of "Captain Jacobus," etc. - Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= - - A tale of adventure on land and sea at the time when Protestant - England and Catholic Spain were struggling for naval supremacy. - Spanish conspiracies against the peace of good Queen Bess, a vivid - description of the raise of the Spanish siege of Leyden by the - combined Dutch and English forces, sea fights, the recovery of - stolen treasure, are all skilfully woven elements in a plot of - unusual strength. - - -The Count of Nideck. - - From the French of Erckman-Chatrian, translated - and adapted by RALPH BROWNING FISKE. Illustrated - by Victor A. Searles. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= - - A romance of the Black Forest, woven around the mysterious legend - of the Wehr Wolf. The plot has to do with the later German feudal - times, is brisk in action, and moves spiritedly from start to - finish. Mr. Fiske deserves a great deal of credit for the - excellence of his work. No more interesting romance has appeared - recently. - - -The Making of a Saint. - - By W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM. Illustrated by Gilbert - James. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - "The Making of a Saint" is a romance of Mediæval Italy, the scene - being laid in the 15th century. It relates the life of a young - leader of Free Companions who, at the close of one of the many - petty Italian wars, returns to his native city. There he becomes - involved in its politics, intrigues, and feuds, and finally joins - an uprising of the townspeople against their lord. None can resent - the frankness and apparent brutality of the scenes through which - the hero and his companions of both sexes are made to pass, and - many will yield ungrudging praise to the author's vital handling of - the truth. In the characters are mirrored the life of the Italy of - their day. The book will confirm Mr. Maugham's reputation as a - strong and original writer. - - -Omar the Tentmaker. - - A Romance of Old Persia. By NATHAN HASKELL - DOLE. Illustrated. (In press.) - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - Mr. Dole's study of Persian literature and history admirably equips - him to enter into the life and spirit of the time of the romance, - and the hosts of admirers of the inimitable quatrains of Omar - Khayyam, made famous by Fitzgerald, will be deeply interested in a - tale based on authentic facts in the career of the famous Persian - poet. The three chief characters are Omar Khayyam, Nizam-ul-Mulk, - the generous and high-minded Vizier of the Tartar Sultan Malik Shah - of Mero, and Hassan ibu Sabbah, the ambitious and revengeful - founder of the sect of the Assassins. The scene is laid partly at - Naishapur, in the Province of Khorasan, which about the period of - the First Crusade was at its acme of civilization and refinement, - and partly in the mountain fortress of Alamut, south of the Caspian - Sea, where the Ismailians under Hassan established themselves - towards the close of the 11th century. Human nature is always the - same, and the passions of love and ambition, of religion and - fanaticism, of friendship and jealousy, are admirably contrasted in - the fortunes of these three able and remarkable characters as well - as in those of the minor personages of the story. - - -Captain Fracasse. - - A new translation from the French of Gotier. Illustrated - by Victor A. Searles. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= - - This famous romance has been out of print for some time, and a new - translation is sure to appeal to its many admirers, who have never - yet had any edition worthy of the story. - - -The Rejuvenation of Miss Semaphore. - - A farcical novel. By HAL GODFREY. Illustrated - by Etheldred B. Barry. (In press.) - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= - - A fanciful, laughable tale of two maiden sisters of uncertain age - who are induced, by their natural longing for a return to youth and - its blessings, to pay a large sum for a mystical water which - possesses the value of setting backwards the hands of time. No more - delightfully fresh and original book has appeared since "Vice - Versa" charmed an amused world. It is well written, drawn to the - life, and full of the most enjoyable humor. - - -Midst the Wild Carpathians. - - By MAURUS JOKAI, author of "Black Diamonds," - "The Lion of Janina," etc. Authorized translation - by R. Nisbet Bain. Illustrated. (In press.) - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= - - A thrilling, historical, Hungarian novel, in which the - extraordinary dramatic and descriptive powers of the great Magyar - writer have full play. As a picture of feudal life in Hungary it - has never been surpassed for fidelity and vividness. The - translation is exceedingly well done. - - -The Golden Dog. - - A Romance of Quebec. By WILLIAM KIRBY. New - authorized edition. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= - - A powerful romance of love, intrigue, and adventure in the time of - Louis XV. and Mme. de Pompadour, when the French colonies were - making their great struggle to retain for an ungrateful court the - fairest jewels in the colonial diadem of France. - - -Bijli the Dancer. - - By JAMES BLYTHE PATTON. Illustrated by Horace - Van Rinth. (In press.) - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - A novel of Modern India. The fortunes of the heroine, an Indian - Naucht girl, are told with a vigor, pathos, and a wealth of poetic - sympathy that makes the book admirable from first to last. - - -"To Arms!" - - Being Some Passages from the Early Life of Allan - Oliphant, Chirurgeon, Written by Himself, and now - Set Forth for the First Time. By ANDREW BALFOUR. - Illustrated. (In press.) - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - A romance dealing with an interesting phase of Scottish and English - history, the Jacobite Insurrection of 1715, which will appeal - strongly to the great number of admirers of historical fiction. The - story is splendidly told, the magic circle which the author draws - about the reader compelling a complete forgetfulness of prosaic - nineteenth century life. - - -Mere Folly. - - A novel. By MARIA LOUISE POOLE, author of "In a - Dike Shanty," etc. Illustrated. (In press.) - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25= - - An extremely well-written story of modern life. The interest - centres in the development of the character of the heroine, a New - England girl, whose high-strung temperament is in constant revolt - against the confining limitations of nineteenth century - surroundings. The reader's interest is held to the end, and the - book will take high rank among American psychological novels. - - -A Hypocritical Romance and other stories. - - By CAROLINE TICKNOR. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. - 1 vol., large 16mo, cloth =$1.00= - - Miss Ticknor, well known as one of the most promising of the - younger school of American writers, has never done better work than - in the majority of these clever stories, written in a delightful - comedy vein. - - -Cross Trails. - - By VICTOR WAITE. Illustrated. (In press.) - 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50= - - A Spanish-American novel of unusual interest, a brilliant, dashing, - and stirring story, teeming with humanity and life. Mr. Waite is to - be congratulated upon the strength with which he has drawn his - characters. - - -A Mad Madonna and other stories. - - By L. CLARKSON WHITELOCK, with eight half-tone - illustrations. 1 vol., large 16mo, cloth =$1.00= - - A half dozen remarkable psychological stories, delicate in color - and conception. Each of the six has a touch of the supernatural, a - quick suggestion, a vivid intensity, and a dreamy realism that is - matchless in its forceful execution. - - -On the Point. - - A Summer Idyl. By NATHAN HASKELL DOLE, author - of "Not Angels Quite," with dainty half-tone - illustrations as chapter headings. - 1 vol., large 16mo, cloth =$1.00= - - A bright and clever story of a summer on the coast of Maine, fresh, - breezy, and readable from the first to the last page. The narrative - describes the summer outing of a Mr. Merrithew and his family. The - characters are all honest, pleasant people, whom we are glad to - know. We part from them with the same regret with which we leave a - congenial party of friends. - - -Cavalleria Rusticana; or, Under the Shadow of Etna. - - Translated from the Italian of Giovanni Verga, by - NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. Illustrated by Etheldred - B. Barry. 1 vol., 16mo, cloth =$0.50= - - Giovanni Verga stands at present as unquestionably the most - prominent of the Italian novelists. His supremacy in the domain of - the short story and in the wider range of the romance is recognized - both at home and abroad. The present volume contains a selection - from the most dramatic and characteristic of his Sicilian tales. - Verga is himself a native of Sicily, and his knowledge of that - wonderful country, with its poetic and yet superstitious peasantry, - is absolute. Such pathos, humor, variety, and dramatic quality are - rarely met in a single volume. - - - - -Transcriber's Note - - -Apparent printer's errors have been retained, unless stated below. - -Punctuation, capitalization, accents and formatting markup have been -made consistent. - -"-" surrounding text represents italics. - -"=" surrounding text represents bold. - -"+" surrounding text represents the use of a Gothic font in the original. - -Page 64, 100, 176 and 202, changed "ecstacy" to "ecstasy" for -continuity. - -Page 120, "forthfathers" changed to "forefathers" for consistency. (Our -forefathers were not of Grand Pré.) - -Page 163, added the missing word, "to" ("I should like to see your -sister, Perside.") - -Page 220, "pantomine" changed to "pantomime". (The unfortunate watcher, -in great perplexity of mind, was going through every gesture in the -pantomime of distress.) - -Page 294, "Agapit" changed to "Vesper". ("The doctors in Boston also say -it," responded Vesper.) - -Page 394, "how" changed to "now". (The earth was soft here by the lake, -yet it was heavy to lift out, for the hole had now become quite deep.) - -Page 506, "Malgre" changed to "Malgré". (Quoique très amère et très -dure, Malgré les sens et la nature, Portons la croix!) - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Rose À Charlitte, by Marshall Saunders - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROSE À CHARLITTE *** - -***** This file should be named 41296-8.txt or 41296-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/2/9/41296/ - -Produced by D Alexander, Veronika Redfern and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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