By CHARLES G.D.ROBERTS 
 
 %Jr'\
 
 /yo 
 
 THE LIBHAKY 
 OF
 
 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 . OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELES
 
 "I saw her as she stood in the orchard." (See p. 7.)
 
 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 Being the Story of Tvonne de Lamourie, 
 
 and how she went into exile with 
 
 the villagers of Grand Pre 
 
 By 
 
 Charles G. D. Roberts 
 
 Author of The Forge in the Forest, The Heart of the 
 
 Ancient Wood, By the Marshes of Minas, Earth's 
 
 Enigmas. New York Nocturnes, &e. 
 
 New Edition, with Illustrations 
 
 GROSSET 6- DUNLAP 
 NEW YORK PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1898, 
 By Lamson, Wolffe and Company. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 Copyright, 1900, 
 By Silver, Burdett and Company. 
 
 All rights reserved.
 
 n 
 
 MY MOTHER 
 
 EMMA WETMORE BLISS ROBERTS 
 
 THE LIBKAKY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 LOS 
 
 2132301
 
 Contents 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I. Paul Grande' s Home-coming to Grand Pre, i 
 
 II. Grul's Warning . . . . .11 
 
 III. Charms and Counter-charms . . .15 
 
 IV. "Habet!" 23 
 
 V. The Black Abbe Defers . . .31 
 
 VI. A New England Englishman . . 36 
 
 VII. Guard! 43 
 
 VIII. The Moon in the Apple-bough . . 50 
 
 IX. In Sleep a King ; but Waking, no such 
 
 Matter . . . . . 5 8 
 
 X. A Grand Pre Morning ... 66 
 
 XI. Father Fafard 77 
 
 XII. Le Furet at the Ferry .... 87 
 
 XIII. Unwilling to be Wise . . . -94 
 
 XIV. Love Me, Love My Dog . . .100 
 XV. Ashes as it were Bread . . .105 
 
 XVI. The Way of a Maid . . . .112 
 
 XVII. Memory is a Child . . . . . 1 1 7 
 
 XVIII. For a Little Summer's Sleep . . .125 
 
 XIX. The Borderland of Life . . . 135
 
 Vlll 
 
 Contents 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 XX. But Mad Nor-nor-west . . .142 
 
 XXI. Beausejour, and After . . .149 
 
 XXII. Grul's Case 156 
 
 XXIII. At Gaspereau Lower Ford . . 161 
 
 XXIV. " If you love me, leave me " . .168 
 XXV. Over Gaspereau Ridge . . , 177 
 
 XXVI. The Chapel Prison . . .182 
 
 XXVII. Dead Days and Withered Dreams . 191 
 
 XXVIII. The Ships of her Exile . . .200 
 
 XXIX. The Hour of her Desolation . . 208 
 
 XXX. A Woman's Privilege . . .218 
 
 XXXI. Young Will and Old Wisdom . .229 
 
 XXXII. Aboard the Good Hope " . . 238 
 
 XXXIII. The Divine Right of Queens . . 246 
 
 XXXIV. The Soul's Supremer Sense . .254 
 XXXV. The Court in the Cabin . . .260 
 
 XXXVI. Sword and Silk . . . .268 
 
 XXXVII. Fire in Ice . . . . . 279 
 
 XXXVIII. Of Long Felicity Brief Word . . 285
 
 Illustrations 
 
 " I saw her as she stood in the orchard ' ' Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 " I ... sat gazing dumbly at the white figure 
 
 in the moonlight " . . . . 52 
 
 * Anderson let . him drop upon the under- 
 brush " . . . . .132 
 
 " But what more engrossed their eyes was the 
 
 end of Grand Pre " . . .232
 
 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 Chapter I 
 Paul Grande's Home-coming to Grand Pre 
 
 REV EN ANT a la Belle 
 words sang themselves over and over in 
 my brain, but I could get no further than that 
 one line, try as I might. I felt that it was the 
 beginning of a song which, if only I could imprison 
 it in my rhyme, would stick in the hearts of our 
 men of Acadie, and live upon their lips, and be 
 sung at every camp and hearth fire, as " A la 
 Claire Fontaine " is sung by the voyageurs of the 
 St. Lawrence. At last I perceived, however, that 
 the poem was living itself out at that moment in 
 my heart, and did not then need the half-futile 
 expression that words at best can give. But I did 
 put it into words at a later day, when at last I 
 found myself able to set it apart and view it with 
 clear eyes ; and you shall judge, maybe, when I 
 come to put my verses into print, whether I sue-
 
 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 ceeded in making the words rhyme fairly and the 
 volatile syllables march at measured pace. The 
 art of verse has never been much practised among 
 us Acadians, and it is a matter of some pride to 
 me that I, a busy soldier, now here at Grand Pre 
 and anon at Mackinaw or Natchez, taking in my 
 hand my life more often than a pen, should have 
 mastered even the rudiments of an art so lofty and 
 exacting. 
 
 So, for awhile, " Home again to Acadie the 
 Fair " was all that I could say. 
 
 It was surely enough. I had come over from 
 Piziquid afoot, by the upper trail, and now, having 
 crossed the Gaspereau where it narrows just above 
 tide-water, I had come out upon the spacious 
 brow of the hill that overlooks Grand Pre village. 
 
 Not all my wanderings had shown me another 
 scene so wonderful as that wide prospect. The 
 vale of the Five Rivers lay spread out before me, 
 with Grand Pre, the quiet metropolis of the Aca- 
 dian people, nestling in her apple-bloom at my 
 feet. There was the one long street, thick-set with 
 its wide-eaved gables, and there its narrow sub- 
 sidiary lane descending from the slopes upon my 
 left. Near the angle rose the spire of the village 
 church, glittering like gold in the clear flood of 
 the sunset. And everywhere the dear apple-blos- 
 soms. For it was spring in Acadie when I came 
 home.
 
 Paul Grande's Home-coming 3 
 
 Beyond the village and its one black wharf my 
 eyes ranged the green, wind-ruffled marshes, safe 
 behind the sodded circumvallations of their dykes. 
 Past the dykes, on either side of " the island's " 
 wooded rampart, stretched the glowing miles of 
 the flats ; for the tides of Minas were at ebb. How 
 red in the sunset, molten copper threaded with 
 fire, those naked reaches gleamed that night ! 
 Their color was like a blare of trumpets challeng- 
 ing the peace of the Five Rivers. 
 
 Past the flats, smooth and dazzling to the eye at 
 such a distance, lay the waters of Minas. Well I 
 knew how their unsleeping eddies boiled and 
 seethed about the grim base of Blomidon. Such 
 tricks does memory serve one that even across 
 that wide tranquillity I seemed to hear the depre- 
 dating clamour of those tides upon the shingle. 
 
 Though it was now two years since I had seen 
 the gables and apple-trees of Grand Pre, I was in 
 no haste to descend into the village. There came 
 a sudden sinking at my heart, as my heart in- 
 quired, with unseasonable pertinence, by what 
 right I continued to call Grand Pre " home " ? 
 The thought was new to me; and that I might 
 fairly consider it I seated myself upon the broad 
 stump of a birch-tree, felled the preceding winter. 
 
 By far the smaller portion of my life had been 
 spent in the Acadian village only my early boy- 
 hood, before the years of schooling at Quebec;
 
 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 and afterwards the fleeting sweetness of some too 
 brief visits, that lay in my memory like pools of 
 enchanted leisure in a desert of emulous conten- 
 tions. My father, tenderest and bravest of all men 
 that I have known, rested in an unmarked grave 
 beside the northern wash of the Peribonca. My 
 uncle, Jean de Mer, Sieur de Briart, was on the 
 Ohio, fighting the endless battle of France in the 
 western wildernesses. His one son, my one cousin, 
 the taciturn but true-hearted Marc, was with his 
 father, spending himself in the same quarrel. I 
 thought with a longing tenderness of these two 
 the father full of high faith in the triumph of New 
 France, the son fighting obstinately in what he 
 held a lost cause, caring mainly that his father still 
 had faith in it. I wished mightily that their brave 
 hands could clasp mine in welcome back to Grand 
 Pre. I thought of their two fair New England 
 wives, left behind at Quebec to shame by their gay 
 innocence the corruption of Bigot's court. Kindred 
 I had none in Grand Pre, unless one green grave 
 in the churchyard could be called my kin the 
 grave wherein my mother's girlish form and laugh- 
 ing eyes had been laid to sleep while I was yet a 
 child. 
 
 Yes, I had no kinsfolk to greet me back to 
 Grand Pre ; no roof of mine that I should call it 
 home. But friends, loyal friends, would welcome 
 me, I knew. There was Father Fafard, the firm
 
 Paul Grande's Home-coming 5 
 
 and gentle old priest, to whom, of course, I should 
 go just as if I were of his flesh and blood. Then 
 there were the De Lamouries 
 
 Yes, to be sure, the De Lamouries. And here I 
 took myself by the chin and laughed. I know 
 that, for all my verses, I am in the main a soldier, 
 yet I am so far a poet as to suffer myself to befool 
 myself at times, and get a passing satisfaction out 
 of it. But I always face the fact before I express 
 it in act. I acknowledged to myself that I had 
 been thinking of the De Lamouries' pleasant farm- 
 house, and of somewhat that it contained, when I 
 sang " Home again to Acadie the Fair." 
 
 I remembered with a pleasant warmth the tall, 
 bent figure, fierce eyes, and courtly air of Giles de 
 Lamourie,- the broken gentleman, who through 
 much misfortune and some fault had fallen from a 
 high place at Versailles and been fain to hide him- 
 self on an Acadian farm. I thought also of Madame, 
 his wife, a wizened little woman with nothing left, 
 said the villagers, to remind one of the loveli- 
 ness which had once dazzled Louis himself. To 
 me she seemed an amazingly interesting woman, 
 whose former beauty could still be guessed from 
 its ruins. 
 
 Both of these good people I remembered with 
 a depth of concern far beyond the deserts of such 
 casual friendlinesses as they had shown me. As 
 I looked down toward their spacious apple-
 
 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 orchard, on the furthest outskirts of the village, it 
 was borne in upon me that they had one claim to 
 distinction beyond all others. 
 
 They had achieved Yvonne. 
 
 Many a time had I wondered how my cousin 
 Marc could have had eyes for his ruddy-haired 
 Puritan lily when there was Yvonne de La- 
 mourie in the world. On my last two visits to 
 Grand Pre I had seen her ; not many times, in- 
 deed, nor much alone ; and never word of love had 
 passed between us. In truth, I had not known that 
 I loved her in those days. I had taken a wonder- 
 ing delight in her beauty and her wit, but of the 
 pretty trifles of compliment and the careless gal- 
 lantries that so often simulate love I had offered 
 her none at all. This surprised me the more 
 afterward, as women had ever found me somewhat 
 lavish in such light coin. I think I was withheld 
 by the great love unrealized in my heart, which 
 found expression then only in such white rever- 
 ence as the devotee proffers to his saint. I think, 
 too, I was restrained by the consciousness of a 
 certain girl at Trois Pistoles on the St. Lawrence, 
 who, if I might believe my vanity, loved me, and 
 to whom, if I might believe my conscience, I had 
 given some sort of claim upon my honor. I cared 
 naught for the girl. I had never intended any- 
 thing but a light and passing affair ; but somehow 
 it had not seemed to me light when Yvonne de
 
 Paul Grande's Home-coming 7 
 
 Lamourie's eyes were upon me. A little afterward, 
 revisiting Trois Pistoles on my way to the western 
 lakes, I had found the maiden married to a pros- 
 perous trader of Quebec. In the leaping joy that 
 seized my heart at the news I perceived how my 
 fetters had galled ; and I knew then, though at 
 first but dimly, that if anywhere in the world there 
 awaited me such a love as I had dreamed of 
 sleeping, but ever doubted waking, the love 
 that should be not a pastime, but a prayer, not an 
 episode, but an eternity, it awaited me in Grand 
 Pre village. 
 
 In my heart these two years I had carried two 
 clear visions of my mistress. Strange to tell, they 
 were not bedimmed by the much handling which 
 they had endured. They but seemed to grow the 
 brighter and fresher from being continually pressed 
 to the kisses of my soul. 
 
 In one of these I saw her as she stood a certain 
 morning in the orchard, prying with insistent little 
 finger-tips into the heart of a young apple-flower, 
 while I watched and said nothing. I know not to 
 this day whether she were thinking of the apple- 
 flower or wondering at the dumbnes sof her cava- 
 lier ; but she feigned, at least, to concern herself 
 with only the blossom's heart. Her wide white 
 lids downcast over her great eyes, her long 
 lashes almost sweeping the rondure of her cheek, 
 she looked a Madonna. The broad, low fore-
 
 8 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 head ; the finely chiselled nose, not too small for 
 strength of purpose ; the full, firm chin all added 
 to this sweet dignity, which was of a kind to 
 compel a lover's worship. There was enough 
 breadth to the gracious curve below the ear to 
 make me feel that this girl would be a strong 
 man's mate. But the mouth, a bow of tenderness, 
 with a wilful dimple at either delectable corner 
 always lurking, spoke her all woman, too laughing 
 and loving to spend her days in sainthood. Her 
 hair very thick and of a purply-bronze, near to 
 black lay in a careless fulness over her little 
 ears. On her head, though in all else she affected 
 the dress of the Grand Pre maids, she wore not 
 the Acadian linen cap, but a fine shawl of black 
 Spanish lace, which became her mightily. Her 
 bodice was of linen homespun, coarse, but bleached 
 to a creamy whiteness ; and her skirt, of the same 
 simple stuff, was short after the Acadian fashion, 
 so that I could see her slim ankles, and feet of 
 that exceeding smallness and daintiness which 
 may somehow tread right heavily upon a man's 
 heart. 
 
 The other vision cherished in my memory was 
 different from this, and even more enchanting. It 
 was a vision of one look cast upon me as I left 
 the door of her father's house. In the radiance of 
 her great eyes, turned full upon me, all else 
 became indistinct, her other features blurred, as it
 
 Paul Grande's Home-coming 9 
 
 were, with the sudden light of that look, which 
 meant I knew not what. Indeed, it was ever 
 difficult to observe minutely the other beauties of 
 her face as long as the eyes were turned upon one, 
 so clear an illumination from her spirit shone 
 within their lucid deeps. Hence it was, I suppose, 
 that few could agree as to the colour of those eyes 
 the many calling them black, others declaring 
 with confidence that they were brown, while some 
 even, who must have angered her, averred them 
 to be of a very cold dark grey. I, for my part, 
 knew that they were of a greenish hazel of in- 
 describable depth, with sometimes amber lights in 
 them, and sometimes purple shadows very mys- 
 terious and unfathomable. 
 
 As I sat now looking down into the village I 
 wondered if Yvonne would have a welcome for me. 
 As I remembered, she had ever shown goodwill 
 toward me, so far as consisted with maidenly re- 
 serve. She had seemed ever ready for tales of my 
 adventure, and even for my verses. As I thought 
 of it there dawned now upon my heart a glimmer- 
 ing hope that there had been in that last unforgot- 
 ten look of hers more warmth of meaning than 
 maid Yvonne had been willing to confess. 
 
 This thought went to my heart and I sprang up 
 in a kind of sudden intoxication, to go straight- 
 way down into the village. As I did so I caught 
 the flutter of a white frock among the trees of the
 
 io A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 De Lamourie orchard. Thereupon my breath came 
 with a quickness that was troublesome, and to 
 quiet it I paused, looking out across the marshes 
 and the tide toward Blomidon. Then for the first 
 time I observed a great bank of cloud that had 
 arisen behind the Cape. It was black and men- 
 acing, ragged and fiery along its advancing crest. 
 Its shadow lay already upon the marshes and the 
 tide. It crept smoothly upon the village. And 
 at this moment, from the skirts of a maple grove 
 on the summit of the hill behind me, came a great 
 and bell-like voice, crying : 
 
 " Woe, woe to Acadie the Fair, for the hour of 
 her desolation cometh ! "
 
 Chapter II 
 Grul's Warning 
 
 " r ~T*HESE ten years," I exclaimed to myself 
 JL angrily (for I love not to have a dream 
 rudely broken), " has Grul been prophesying woe ; 
 and I see not that aught comes of it save greater 
 strength to his lungs." 
 
 I turned my back upon the valley and watched 
 the singular figure that drew near. It was a shrewd 
 and mysterious madman whom all Acadie had 
 known for the past ten years as " Grul." Whether 
 that was his real name or a pseudonym of his own 
 adoption no one knew. Whence he had come no 
 one knew. Wherefore he stayed in Acadie, and 
 so faithfully prophesied evil to our fair land, no 
 one knew. The reason of his madness and the 
 method which sometimes seemed to lurk beneath 
 it no one could confidently guess. At least, 
 such ignorance in regard to this fantastic fool 
 seemed general throughout the country. But 
 there lay here and there a suspicion that the Black 
 Abbe, the indomitable La Game, Bigot's tool and 
 
 ii
 
 12 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 the people's dread, knew more of Grul's madness 
 than other folk might dream. It was whispered 
 that La Game, who seemingly feared no man 
 else, feared Grul. It was certain that whenever 
 any scheme of the Black Abbe's came to naught 
 Grul's hand would appear somewhere in the wreck 
 of it. 
 
 Now, as he came down from the maple grove, he 
 looked and was dressed just as I had seen him 
 years before. The vicissitudes of time and of the 
 weather seemed to have as little effect upon the 
 staring black and yellow of his woollen cloak as 
 upon his iron frame, his piercing light-blue eyes, 
 the snowy tangle of his hair and beard. Only 
 his pointed cap betrayed that its wearer dwelt 
 not altogether beyond the pale of mutability. Its 
 adornments seemed to recognize the seasons. I 
 had seen it stuck with cornflowers in the summer, 
 with golden-rod and asters in the autumn, with 
 feathers and strange wisps of straw in winter ; and 
 now it bore a spray of apple-blossom, with some 
 dandelions, those northern sun-worshippers, whose 
 closing petals now declared that even in death 
 they took note of the passing of their lord. 
 
 In his hand Grul carried the same quaint wand 
 of white wood, with its grotesque carven head 
 dyed scarlet, which had caught my eye with an 
 uneasy fascination the first time I met its pos- 
 sessor. That little stick, which Grul wielded with
 
 Gnil's Warning 13 
 
 authority as if it were a sceptre, still caused me 
 some superstitious qualms. I remembered how at 
 my first sight of it I had looked to see a living 
 spark leap from that scarlet head. 
 
 " It has been a long time coming," said I, as 
 Grul paused before me, searching my face curi- 
 ously with his gleaming eyes. " And meanwhile 
 I have come. I think, monsieur, I should esteem 
 a welcome somewhat more cordial than your words 
 of dolorous omen." 
 
 Whether he were displeased or not at my for- 
 wardness in addressing him I cannot tell. He 
 was without doubt accustomed to choose his own 
 time for speech. His eyes danced with a shifting, 
 sharp light, and after thrusting his little wand at 
 me till, in spite of myself, I felt the easy smile 
 upon my lips grow something mechanical, he said 
 with withering slowness : 
 
 " To the boy and the fool how small a handful 
 of years may seem a lifetime ! You think it is 
 long coming? It is even now come. The shadow 
 of the smoke of her burning even now lies upon 
 Acadie. The ships of her exile are near." 
 
 He stopped ; and I had no word of mocking 
 wherewith to answer him. Then his eyes and his 
 voice softened a little, and he continued : 
 
 " And you have come back poor boy, poor 
 fool ! with joy in your heart ; and your joy even 
 now is crumbling to ashes in your mouth."
 
 14 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 He turned away, leaving me still speechless ; 
 but in an instant he was back and his wand thrust 
 at me with a suddenness that made me recoil in 
 childish apprehension. In a voice indescribably 
 dry and biting he cried swiftly : 
 
 " But look you, boy. Whether she be yours or 
 another's, there is an evil hand uplifted against her 
 this night. See you to it ! " 
 
 "What do you mean? " I cried, my heart sink- 
 ing with a sudden fear. " Nay, you shall tell 
 me ! " I went on fiercely, making as if to restrain 
 him by force as he turned away. But he bent 
 upon me one look of such scorn that I felt at once 
 convicted of folly; and striding off, with some- 
 thing of a dignity in his carriage which all his 
 grotesquerie of garb could not conceal, he left me 
 to chew upon his words. As for the warning, that 
 was surely plain enough. I was to go to Yvonne, 
 and be by her in case of any need. The business 
 thus laid upon me was altogether to my liking. 
 But that pitying word of joy that should turn to 
 ashes in my mouth ! It filled me with black fore- 
 boding. As I stepped down briskly toward Grand 
 Pre my joy was already dead, withered at a mad- 
 man's whisper. And that great-growing cloud 
 from over Blomidon had swallowed up all the 
 village in a chill shadow.
 
 Chapter III 
 Charms and Counter-charms 
 
 NEVER may I forget that walking down from 
 the Gaspereau Ridge to Grand Pre village. 
 The very air seemed charged with mystery. Every 
 sight and every sound bore the significance of an 
 omen, to which I lacked interpreter. The roofs 
 of the village itself, and the marshes, the sea, and 
 the far-off bulk of Blomidon, appeared like the 
 tissue of a dream, ready to vanish upon a turn of 
 thought, and leave behind I knew not what of 
 terrible reality. 
 
 I am not by nature superstitious at all beyond 
 the point of convenience. Such superstitions as 
 please me I have ever been wont to cherish for the 
 interest to be had out of them. I have often been 
 strengthened in a doubtful intention by omens that 
 looked my way, and auspicious signs have many a 
 time cheered me astonishingly when affairs have 
 seemed to be going ill. But the most menacing 
 of omens have ever had small weight when oppos- 
 ing themselves to my set purpose. When a super-
 
 1 6 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 stition is on my side I show it much civility: 
 when it is against me it seems of small account. 
 
 But that night I was more superstitious than 
 usual. Of the new moon, a pallid bow just sink- 
 ing, I caught first sight over my left shoulder, 
 and I felt vaguely troubled thereat. One crow, 
 croaking from a willow stump upon my right 
 hand, got up heavily and flew across my path. 
 I misliked the omen, and felt straightway well 
 assured of some approaching rebuff. When, a 
 few moments later, two crows upon my left hand 
 flew over to my right I was not greatly comforted, 
 for they were far ahead and I was forced to con- 
 clude that the felicity which they prophesied was 
 remote. 
 
 Thus it came that presently I was in a waking 
 and walking dream, not knowing well the sub- 
 stance from the shadow. Yet my senses did so 
 continue to serve me that I went not down into the 
 village, where I knew I should find many a hand- 
 clasp, but followed discreetly along the back of 
 the orchards, that I might reach the De Lamourie 
 place as swiftly as possible. 
 
 By this hour a sweet-smelling mist, such as, I 
 think, falls nowhere else as it does in the Acadian 
 fields, lay heavy on the grasses. I bethought me 
 that it was the dew of the new moon, and therefore 
 endowed with many virtues ; and I persuaded my- 
 self to believe that my feet, which were by now
 
 Charms and Counter-charms 17 
 
 well drenched with it, must needs be set upon a 
 fortunate errand. 
 
 As I came to this comforting conclusion I 
 reached a little thicket at an orchard corner, where 
 grew a deep tangle of early flowering herbs. There, 
 gathering the wet and perfumed blooms, stooped 
 an old woman with a red shawl wrapped over 
 her head and shoulders. She straightened herself 
 briskly as I came beside her, and I saw the hag- 
 gard, high-boned, hawk-nosed face of old Mother 
 Pe'che, whose tales of wizardry I had often listened 
 to in the years long gone by. She turned upon 
 me her strange eyes, black points of piercing intel- 
 ligence encircled by a startling glitter of wide white, 
 and at once she stretched out to me a crooked 
 hand of greeting. 
 
 " It is good for these old eyes, Master Paul, to 
 see thee back in the village ! " she exclaimed. 
 
 Now, any one will tell you that it is not well to 
 be crossed in one's path by an old woman, when on 
 an errand of moment. I hurried past, therefore ; 
 and it shames me to say it. But then, remembering 
 that one had better defy any omen than leave a 
 kindness undone, I stopped, turned back, and 
 hastily grasped the old dame's wizened hand, 
 slipping into it a silver piece as I did so. 
 
 It was a broad piece, and full as much as I 
 could wisely spare ; but an old woman or a small 
 boy is ever welcome to share my last penny. Her
 
 i8 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 strange eyes gleamed for a moment, but as she 
 looked up to bless me her face changed. After 
 gazing earnestly into my eyes she muttered some- 
 thing which I could not catch, and to my huge 
 amazement flung the silver behind her with a 
 violence which left no doubt of her intentions. 
 She flung it toward a little swampy pool ; but as 
 luck would have it the coin struck a willow sapling 
 by the pool's edge, bounded back, and fell with a 
 clink upon a flat stone, where I marked it as it lay 
 whitely glittering. 
 
 I was too amazed to protest for a moment, but 
 the old woman hastened to appease me. 
 
 " There was sorrow on it, dearie, thy sorrow," 
 she exclaimed coaxingly ; " and I wouldn't have it. 
 The devil take all thy bad luck, and Mary give 
 thee new fortune ! " 
 
 To me it seemed that throwing away the silver 
 piece was taking superstition quite too seriously. 
 I laughed and said : 
 
 " But, mother, if there be bad luck ahead of me, 
 so much the more do I want your blessing, and 
 truly I cannot spare you another silver crown. 
 Faith, this one's not gone yet, after all ! " And 
 picking it up I handed it back to her. " Let the 
 devil fly away with my ill luck, if he may, but 
 don't let him fly away with your little savings," I 
 added. 
 
 The old dame shook her head doubtfully, and
 
 Charms and Counter-charms 19 
 
 then with a sigh of resignation, as who should say, 
 " The gifts of destiny are not to be thrust aside," 
 slipped the silver into some deep-hidden pocket. 
 But her loving concern for my prosperity was not 
 to be balked. After a little fumbling she brought 
 out a small pebble, which she gave me with an air 
 that showed it to be, in her eyes, some very great 
 thing. 
 
 I took it with an answering concern, looked at it 
 very closely, and turned it over in my hand, wait- 
 ing for some clue to its significance before I 
 should begin to thank her for the gift, if gift it 
 were. The stone was assuredly beautiful, about 
 the size of a hazel-nut, and of a clouded, watery 
 green in color, but the curious quality of it was that 
 as you held it up a moving loop of light seemed 
 to gather at its heart, taking somewhat the sem- 
 blance of a palely luminous eye. My interest 
 deepened at once, and I bethought me of a stone 
 of rarity and price which was sometimes to be 
 found under Blomidon. It went by the name of 
 " Le Veilleur," or " The Watcher," among our 
 Acadian peasants ; but the Indians called it " The 
 Eye of Manitou," and many mystic virtues were 
 ascribed to it. 
 
 " Why, mother," I said presently, " this is a 
 thing of great price ! I cannot take it. 'Tis a 
 'Watcher,' is it not? " And I gazed intently into 
 its elusive loop of light.
 
 2O A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " I have another," she answered eagerly, thrust- 
 ing her hands under her red cloak as if to prevent 
 me giving back the stone. " That is for thee, and 
 thou'lt need it, ch'eri Master Paul." 
 
 " Well," said I, staring at the beautiful jewel 
 with a growing affection, " I will take it with much 
 thanks, mother, but I must pay you what it is 
 worth ; and that I will find out in Quebec, from 
 one who knows the worth of jewels." 
 
 " Thou shalt not pay me, Master Paul," said the 
 old dame, with a distinct note of resentment in her 
 voice. " It is my gift to thee, because I have 
 loved thee since thou wert a little lad ; and because 
 thou'lt need the stone. Promise me thou'lt wear it 
 always about thee ;" and plucking it from my hand 
 with a swift insinuation of her long fingers she slipped 
 it into a tiny pouch of dressed deerskin and pro- 
 ceeded to affix a leathern thong whereby I might, 
 as I inferred, hang the talisman about my neck. 
 
 " While this you wear," she went on in a low, 
 singing voice, " what most you fear will never come 
 to pass." 
 
 " But I am not greatly given to fear, mother," 
 said I, with a little vainglorious laugh. 
 
 " Then thou hast not known love," she retorted 
 sharply. 
 
 At these words the fear of which she had spoken 
 came about me vague, formless, terrible, and I 
 trembled.
 
 Charms and Counter-charms 21 
 
 " Give it to me ! " I cried in haste. " Give it to 
 me ! I will repay you, mother, with " and here 
 I laughed again " with love, which you say I 
 have never known." 
 
 " That kind of love, Master Paul, thou hast 
 known since thou wert a very little lad. Thou'st 
 given it freely, out of a kind heart. But, dearie, 
 thou hast but played at the great love or more 
 would'st thou know of fear." And the old woman 
 looked at me with shrewd question in her startling 
 eyes. 
 
 But I did know fear and I knew that I knew 
 love. My face turned anxiously toward De La- 
 mourie's, and I grudged every instant of further 
 delay. 
 
 " Good-by, mother, and the saints keep you ! " 
 I cried hastily, swinging off through the wet grass. 
 But the old dame called after me gently : 
 
 "Stop a minute, Master Paul. She' will be at 
 her supper by now; an' in a little she'll be walk- 
 ing in the garden path." 
 
 I stopped, filled with wonder, and my veins 
 leaping in wild confusion at the sound of that 
 little word " she." It was as if the old woman 
 had shouted " Yvonne " at the top of her voice. 
 
 " What is it? " I stammered. 
 
 " I want to look at thy hand, dearie," she said, 
 grasping it and turning it so as to catch the last 
 of the fading light.
 
 22 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Your heart's desire is nigh your death of 
 hope," said she presently, speaking like an oracle. 
 Then she dropped my hand with a little dry 
 chuckle, and turned away to her gathering of 
 herbs as if I were of no further account. 
 
 "What do you mean? " I asked eagerly. 
 
 But she would not answer me. I scorned to 
 appear too deeply concerned in such old woman's 
 foolery ; so I asked no more, but went my way, 
 carrying the word in my heart with a strange com- 
 fort which, had I but known it, was right soon 
 to turn into despair.
 
 Chapter IV 
 "Habet!" 
 
 I CAME upon the DeLamourie farmhouse by the 
 rear of the orchard ; and down through the 
 low, blossoming arches, now humming with night 
 moths and honey beetles, I hastened toward the 
 front door. Before I reached it there arose an 
 angry barking from the yard, and a huge black 
 dog, objecting to the manner of my approach, 
 came charging upon me with appearance of malign 
 intent. 
 
 I was vexed at the notion of a possible en- 
 counter, for I would not use my sword or my 
 pistols on the guardian of my friend's domain ; yet 
 I had small desire that the brute should tear my 
 clothes. I cursed my folly in not carrying a stick 
 wherewith to beat off such commonplace assail- 
 ants. But there was nothing for it save indiffer- 
 ence, so I paid no attention to the dog until he 
 was almost upon me. Then I turned my head and 
 said sharply, " Down, sir, down ! " 
 
 To all domestic animals the voice of authority 
 23
 
 24 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 is the voice of right. I had forgotten that for the 
 moment. The dog stopped, and stood growling 
 doubtfully. He could not muster up resolution to 
 attack one who spoke with such an assurance of 
 privilege. Yet what could justify my highly irreg- 
 ular approach? He would await developments. 
 In a casual, friendly manner, as I walked on, I 
 stretched out the back of my hand to him, as if to 
 signify that he might lick it if he would ; but this 
 he was by no means ready for, so he kept his dis 
 tance obstinately. 
 
 In another moment there appeared at the head 
 of the path a white, slight figure, with something 
 black about the head and shoulders. It was 
 Yvonne, come out to see the cause of the loud 
 disturbance. 
 
 " It is I, mademoiselle," I exclaimed in an eager 
 voice, hastening to meet her, " Paul Grande, 
 back from the West." 
 
 A slight gasping cry escaped her, and she 
 paused irresolutely. It was but for the least part 
 of an instant; yet my memory took note of it 
 afterward, though it passed me unobserved at the 
 time. Then she came to meet me with out- 
 stretched hands of welcome. Both little hands I 
 crushed together passionately in my grasp, and 
 would have dropped on my knees to kiss them 
 but for two hindrances : Firstly, her father ap- 
 peared at the moment close behind her and
 
 " Habet ! " 25 
 
 things which are but natural in privacy are like to 
 seem theatrical when critically observed. Further, 
 finding perhaps a too frank eloquence in my de- 
 meanor, Yvonne had swiftly but firmly extricated 
 her hands from their captivity. She had said 
 nothing but " I am glad to see you again, after so 
 long a time, monsieur;" and this so quietly that 
 I knew not whether it was indifference spoke, 
 or emotion. 
 
 But the welcome of Giles de Lamourie was right 
 ardent for one of his courteous reserve. There 
 was an affection in his voice that warmed my 
 spirit strangely, the more that I had never sus- 
 pected it; and he kissed me on both cheeks as if 
 I had been his own son " as," said the up-leap- 
 ing heart within me, " I do most resolutely set 
 myself to be ! " 
 
 " And to what good chance do we owe it, Paul, 
 that we see you here at Grand Pre, at a time when 
 the swords of New France are everywhere busy? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " To a brief season of idleness in two years of 
 ceaseless action," I replied, " and to a desire that 
 would not be denied." I sought furtively to catch 
 Yvonne's eyes ; but she was picking an apple- 
 flower to pieces. This little dainty depredation 
 of her fingers pierced me with remembrance. 
 
 " You have earned your idleness, Paul," said De 
 Lamourie, " if the stories we hear of your exploits
 
 26 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 be the half of them true. But we had thought 
 down here that Quebec" " or Trois Pistoles," 
 murmured Yvonne over the remnants of the apple- 
 flower "would have offered metal more attrac- 
 tive for the enrichment of your holiday." 
 
 I flushed hotly. But in the deepening dusk my 
 confusion passed unseen. What gossip had come 
 this way? What magnifying and distortion of a 
 very little affair, so soon gone by and so lightly 
 forgotten ? 
 
 " The swords of New France are just now 
 sheathed for a little," said I, with some reserve in 
 my voice. " They are biding the call to new and 
 hotter work, or I should not be free for even this 
 breathing-spell. As for Quebec," for I would 
 not seem to have heard mademoiselle's interrup- 
 tion, " for years there has been but one place 
 where I desired to be, and that is here ; so I have 
 come, but it is not for long. Great schemes are 
 afoot." 
 
 " For long or for little, my boy," said he, drop- 
 ping his tone of banter, " your home here must be 
 under our roof." 
 
 Having intended staying, as of old, with Father 
 Fafard, I knew not for a moment what to say. I 
 would and yet a voice within said I would not. 
 I noted that Yvonne spoke no word in support of 
 her father's invitation. While I hesitated we had 
 entered the house, and I found myself bend-
 
 "Habet!" 27 
 
 ing over the wizened little hand of Madame de 
 Lamourie. My decision was postponed. Had I 
 guessed how my silence would by and by be mis- 
 interpreted I would assuredly have decided on the 
 spot, whichever way. 
 
 " It is not only for the breath of gayety from 
 Chateau St. Louis which you bring with you, my 
 dear Paul, that you are welcome," said Madame, 
 with that fine air of affectionate coquetry, reminis- 
 cent of Versailles, which so delightfully became her. 
 
 I kissed her hand again. We had always been 
 the best of friends. 
 
 " But let me present to you," she went on, " our 
 good friend, who must also be yours : Mr. George 
 Anderson;" and observing for the first time a 
 tall, broad-shouldered, ruddy man, who stood a 
 little to one side of the fireplace, I bowed to him 
 very courteously. Our eyes met. I felt for him 
 a prompt friendliness, and as if moved by one im- 
 pulse we clasped hands. 
 
 " With all my heart," said I, being then in cor- 
 dial mood, and eager to love one loved of these 
 my friends. 
 
 " And mine," he said, in a quiet, grave voice, 
 " if it please you, monsieur." 
 
 " Yet," I laughed, " if you are English, Mon- 
 sieur Anderson, we must officially be enemies. I 
 trust our difference may be in all love." 
 
 " Yes," said Madame, with a dry little biting
 
 28 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 accent which she much affected, " yes, indeed, in 
 all love, my dear Paul. Monsieur Anderson is 
 English and he is the betrothed husband of our 
 Yvonne," she added, watching me keenly. 
 
 It seemed to me as if there had been a sudden 
 roaring noise and then these last dreadful words 
 coming coldly upon a great silence. At that 
 moment everything stamped itself ineffaceably on 
 my brain. I see myself grasp the back of a chair, 
 that I may stand with the more irreproachable 
 steadiness. I see Madame's curious scrutiny. I 
 see Yvonne's eyes, which had swiftly sought my 
 face as the words were spoken, change and warm 
 to mine for the least fraction of a second. I see 
 all this now, and her slim form unspeakably graceful 
 against the dark wainscoting of the chimney side. 
 Then it all seemed to swim, and I knew that it 
 was with great effort of will I steadied myself; 
 and at last I perceived that Yvonne was holding 
 both Anderson and her father in rapt attention by 
 a sort of radiance of light speech and dainty gest- 
 ure. I dimly came to understand that Yvonne 
 had seen in my face something which she had not 
 looked to see there, and, moved to compassion, 
 had come to my aid and covered up my hurt. In 
 a moment more I was master of myself, but I 
 knew that Madame's eyes had never left me. She 
 liked me -more than a little; but a certain mirth- 
 ful malice, which she had retained from the old
 
 " Habet ! " 29 
 
 gay days in France, made her cruel whensoever 
 one afforded her the spectacle of a tragedy. 
 
 All this takes long in the telling; but it was 
 perhaps not above a minute ere I was able to per- 
 ceive that Mademoiselle's diversion had been upon 
 the theme of one's duty to one's enemies. What 
 she had said I knew not, nor know I to this day ; 
 but I will wager it was both witty and wise. I 
 only know that at this point a direct appeal was 
 made to me. 
 
 " You, monsieur," said Anderson, in his meas- 
 ured tones, " will surely grant that it is always virt- 
 uous, and often possible, to love one's enemies." 
 
 " But never prudent ! " interjected De Lamourie, 
 whose bitter experiences in Paris colored his con- 
 clusions. 
 
 " Your testimony, monsieur, as that of one who 
 has sent so many of them to Paradise, is much to 
 be desired upon this subject," exclaimed Yvonne, 
 in a tone of challenge, at the same time flashing 
 over me a look which worked upon me like a 
 wizard's spell, making me straightway strong and 
 ready. 
 
 " Well may we love them ! " I cried, with an air 
 of sober mockery. " Our enemies are our oppor- 
 tunities ; and without our opportunities, where are 
 we?" 
 
 " All our life is our opportunity, and if we be 
 brave and faithful to church and king we are
 
 30 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 made great by it," exclaimed a harsh, intense 
 voice behind us. 
 
 I noted a look of something like consternation 
 on De Lamourie's face, and a mocking defiance in 
 the eyes of Yvonne. We turned about hastily to 
 greet the new-comer. I knew at once, by hearsay, 
 that dark-robed figure the high, narrow, ton- 
 sured head the long nose with its aggressively 
 bulbous tip the thin lips with their crafty smile 
 the dogged and indomitable jaw. It was La 
 Game, the Black Abbe, master of the Micmac 
 tribes, and terror of the English in Acadie. He 
 was a devoted servant to the flag I served, the 
 lilied banner of France; but I dreaded and de- 
 tested him, for I held that he brought dishonour on 
 the French cause, as well as on his priestly office, 
 by his devious methods, his treacheries, and his 
 cruelties. War, I cannot but think, becomes a 
 gross and hideous thing whensoever it is suffered 
 to slip out of the control of gentlemen, who alone 
 know how to maintain its courtesies.
 
 Chapter V 
 The Black Abbe Defers 
 
 "' "\ 7"OU are welcome, father," began Monsieur 
 X de Lamourie, advancing to meet the visi- 
 tor, " to my humble " But the harsh voice cut 
 him short. 
 
 " Lie not to me, Giles de Lamourie," said the 
 grim priest, extending a long left hand as if in 
 anathema. " Well do I know my face is not wel- 
 come in this house ! " 
 
 De Lamourie drew himself up haughtily, and 
 Madame interrupted. 
 
 " Good father," said she most sweetly, but with 
 an edge to her voice, " do you not take something 
 the advantage of your gown? Might I not be so 
 bold as to entreat a more courteous deliverance of 
 your commands?" 
 
 " What have I to do with forms and courtesies, 
 woman?" he answered and ignored Yvonne's 
 laughing acquiescence of "What, indeed, mon- 
 sieur? " " I come to admonish you back to your 
 duty; and to warn you, if you heed not. I learn 
 
 31
 
 32 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 that you are about to go to Halifax, Giles de La- 
 mourie, and there forswear France, bowing your 
 neck to the English robber. Is this true?" 
 
 " I am about to swear allegiance to England, 
 Father La Game," said De Lamourie coldly. 
 
 The priest's pale eyes narrowed. 
 
 " There is yet time to change your mind," said 
 he, in a voice grown suddenly smooth. " Give me 
 your word that you will remain faithful to France 
 and the bolt which even now hangs over your 
 recreant head shall never fall ! " 
 
 I looked about me in deep astonishment. 
 Yvonne's face was splendid in its impatient scorn. 
 Madame looked solicitous, but composed. Ander- 
 son smiled coolly. But De Lamourie was hot with 
 indignation. 
 
 " It was not to be dictated to by every tonsured 
 meddler that I came to Acadie," he cried, rashly 
 laying himself open. 
 
 " I have heard as much," said the priest dryly. 
 " But enough of this talk," he went on, his voice 
 again vibrating. " You, George Anderson, seducer 
 of these people from their king, look to yourself! 
 Your threshold is red. As for this house " and 
 he looked around with slow and solemn menace 
 " as for this house, it shall not see to-morrow's 
 sun ! " 
 
 Hitherto I had been silent, as became a mere 
 new-come guest; but this was too much for me.
 
 The Black Abb Defers 33 
 
 "Ay, but it shall !" said I bluntly, stepping 
 forward. 
 
 La Game looked at me with unaffected surprise 
 and contempt. 
 
 " And pray, sir, who may you be to speak so 
 confidently ? " he asked. 
 
 " I am an officer of the king, Sir Abbe," I 
 answered, " and a messenger of the governor of 
 New France, and a man of my word. Your quar- 
 rel here I do not very well understand, but I beg 
 you to understand that this house is the house of 
 my friends. I know you, Sir Abbe, I have 
 heard rumour of your work at Beaubassin, Baie 
 Verte, and Gros He. I tell you, I will not suffer 
 you to lift your hand against this house ! " 
 
 " Truly, monsieur, you speak large," sneered 
 the priest. " But you may, perchance, have au- 
 thority. I seem to have seen your face before. 
 Your name?" 
 
 " Paul Grande," said I, bowing. 
 
 La Game's face changed. He looked at me 
 curiously, and then, with a sort of bitter tolerance, 
 shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " You have been to Monsieur le Commandant 
 Vergor, at Beausejour?" he asked. 
 
 I bowedi 
 
 " And to Vaurin, at Piziquid ? " he went on 
 thoughtfully. 
 
 I fancied that a shade of suspicion passed over
 
 34 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 the faces of my hosts ; and Yvonne's face paled 
 slightly ; but I replied : 
 
 " I have just come from Piziquid." 
 
 " Your authority is sufficient, then, monsieur," 
 said he. " The messenger of the governor to 
 Vaurin doubtless knows his business, and it is 
 unnecessary for me to interfere." 
 
 I bowed my thanks, holding courtesy to be in 
 place, since I had gained my point. 
 
 " And I pardon your abruptness, Monsieur 
 Grande," continued the Black Abbe. "We are 
 both working for the king. We have no right to 
 quarrel when we have such great work to do. I 
 am sure I may accept your apology for your 
 abruptness?" And he looked at me with an air 
 of suggestion. 
 
 I was puzzled at his changed demeanour, but I 
 would not show myself at a loss. Still less would 
 I apologize, or suffer any pretence of friendliness 
 between himself and me. 
 
 " I am sure you may," said I pleasantly. And 
 I think the reply a prudent one. 
 
 Yvonne smiled I just caught the smile ; but 
 the abbe turned on his heel. 
 
 " I withdraw my admonition," he said to De 
 Lamourie smoothly, " and leave your case in the 
 hands of this gentleman, your good friend. I 
 wish you a swift conversion or a long repent- 
 ance." And with a glance at me which I liked
 
 The Black Abb Defers 35 
 
 not, but could by no means interpret, he was 
 gone. 
 
 The room grew straightway the brighter for his 
 going.
 
 Chapter VI 
 A New England Englishman 
 
 I HAVE said that the room grew brighter for 
 the going of the Black Abbe. To me, at 
 least, it seemed so. Yet, after his departure, 
 there fell a palpable air of constraint. Monsieur 
 de Lamourie regarded me with something almost 
 like suspicion. Madame eyed me with a curious 
 scrutiny, tolerant, yet as it were watchful. As for 
 Yvonne, her face was coldly averted. All this 
 troubled me. Only the New Englander came to 
 my rescue. 
 
 With a smile of frank satisfaction he remarked : 
 
 " You dealt very effectively and expeditiously 
 
 with that black-frocked firebrand, monsieur. You 
 
 must have great influence at headquarters to be 
 
 able to treat La Game with so little ceremony." 
 
 Now, puzzled though I was, I was marvellously 
 
 elated by my easy victory over the notorious 
 
 Black Abbe. There was doubtless a vainglorious 
 
 ring in the would-be modest voice with which I 
 
 answered. 
 
 36
 
 A New England Englishman 37 
 
 " Yes," said I, " I did not expect quite so swift 
 a triumph. I thought I might even be driven to 
 threats ill fitting the dignity of his office. But 
 doubtless he saw that I was rather in earnest." 
 
 " He certainly seemed to regard you as one 
 having authority," said De Lamourie gravely. 
 
 " Or even," murmured Madame, with that dry- 
 ness in her voice, " as in some way his confeder- 
 ate." 
 
 " Or Vaurin's," came a cold suggestion from 
 Mademoiselle. Her eyes were gazing steadily into 
 the fire ; but I caught the scornful curl of her lip. 
 
 At this I felt myself flush hotly, I knew not just 
 why. It seemed as if I lay under some obscure 
 but disgraceful imputation. With sudden warmth 
 I cried : 
 
 " I have no authority, save as an officer of the 
 king, with a clean record and a sword not un- 
 proven. I have no confederate, nor am I like to 
 be engaged in such work as shall make one need- 
 ful. And as for this Vaurin," I demanded, 
 turning to Yvonne, "who is he? He seems a 
 personage indeed ; yet never had I heard of him 
 till the commandant of Beausejour gave me a 
 letter for his hand." 
 
 " I cannot doubt you, monsieur," interposed 
 Anderson heartily. " This Vaurin is a very sorry 
 scoundrel, a spy and an assassin, who does the 
 dirty work of those who employ him. I think it
 
 38 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 was ill done of Vergor to give to any gentleman a 
 commission to that foul cur." 
 
 I sprang to my feet and walked thrice up and 
 down the room, while all sat silent. I think my 
 anger was plain enough to every one, for the old 
 friendliness as I afterwards remembered came 
 back to the faces of Monsieur and Madame de 
 Lamourie, and Yvonne's eyes shone upon me for 
 an instant with a wistfulness which I could not 
 understand. Yet this, as I said, is but what came 
 back to me afterwards. I felt Yvonne's eyes but 
 as in a dream at that moment. 
 
 " Vergor shall answer to me," I cried bitterly. 
 " It is ill work serving under the public thieves 
 whom the intendant puts in power to-day. One 
 never knows what baseness may not be demanded 
 of him. Vergor shall clear himself, or meet me ! " 
 
 " What hope is there for your cause," asked 
 Anderson, " when they who guide New France 
 are so corrupt? " 
 
 " They are not all corrupt ! " I declared with 
 vehemence. " The governor is honest. The gen- 
 eral is honour itself. But, alas, the most grievous 
 enemies of New France are those within her gate ! 
 Bigot is the prince of robbers. His hands and 
 those of his gang are at her throat. It is he we 
 fear, and not you English, brave and innumerable 
 though you are." 
 
 And with this my indignation at Vergor, who, it
 
 A New England Englishman 39 
 
 was plain, had put upon me an errand unbecoming 
 to a gentleman and an officer of the king, spread 
 out to include the whole corrupt crew of which 
 the intendant Bigot was the too efficient captain. 
 Seating myself again by the hearth, I gave bitter 
 account of the wrong and infamy at Quebec, and 
 showed how, to the anguish of her faithful sons, 
 New France was being stripped and laid bare to 
 the enemy. My heart being as dead with my 
 own sudden sorrow, the story which I told of my 
 country's plight was steeped in dark forebodings. 
 
 When I had finished, the conversation became 
 general, and I presently withdrew into my heavi- 
 ness. I remember that Madame rallied me, at 
 last, on my silence ; but Yvonne came quickly and 
 sweetly to my help, recalling my long day's jour- 
 ney and insisting upon my drinking a cup of spiced 
 brandy "very sound and good," she declared, 
 " and but late from Louisburg, no thanks to King 
 George ! " 
 
 As I sat sipping of the fragrant brew though it 
 had been wormwood it had seemed to me delicate 
 from her hand I tried to gather together the 
 shattered fragments of my dream. 
 
 There she sat of all women the one woman, 
 as I had in the long, solitary night-watches come 
 to know, whom my soul needed and my body 
 needed. My inmost thought, speaking with itself 
 in nakedest sincerity, declared that it was she
 
 40 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 only whom God had made for me or for whom 
 God had made me. The whole truth, as I felt it, 
 required both statements to perfect its expression. 
 There she sat, so near that her voice was making 
 a wonder of music in my ears, so near that her 
 eyes from time to time flashed a palpable radiance 
 upon my face; yet further away than when I 
 lightened with dreams of her the long marches 
 beside the Miami or lay awake to think of her, in 
 the remote huts of the Natchez. So far away had 
 a word, a brief word, put her; yet here she sat 
 where I could grasp her just by stretching out my 
 hand. 
 
 As I thought of it her eyes met mine. I swear 
 that I made no motion. My grasp never relaxed 
 from the arm of the black old chair where it had 
 fixed itself. Yet the thought must have cried 
 out to her, for a look of alarm, yet not wholly of 
 denial, flickered for one heart-beat in her gaze. 
 She rose, with a little aimless movement, looked 
 at me, swayed her body toward me almost imper- 
 ceptibly, then sat down again in her old place 
 with her face averted. At once she began talk- 
 ing with a whimsical gayety that engrossed all 
 ears and left me again in my gloom. 
 
 I scrutinized this man, the New Englander, who 
 sat drinking her with his eyes. For the joy that 
 was in his face as he watched her I cursed him 
 yet ere the curse had gone forth I blessed him
 
 A New England Englishman 41 
 
 bitterly. How could I curse him when I saw that 
 his soul was on its knees to her, as mine was. I 
 felt myself moved toward him in a strange affec- 
 tion. Yet and yet ! 
 
 He was a tall man, well over six feet in height, of 
 a goodly breadth of shoulder, taller than myself 
 by three inches at least, and heavier in build. He 
 had beauty, too, which I could not boast of; 
 though before love taught me humility I had been 
 vain enough to deem my face not all ill-favored. 
 His abundant light hair, slightly waving ; his ruddy, 
 somewhat square face, with its good chin and kind 
 mouth ; his frank and cheerful blue eyes, fearless 
 but not aggressive ; his air of directness and good 
 intention all compelled my tribute of admiration, 
 and made me think little of my own sombre and 
 sallow countenance, with its straight black hair, 
 straight black brows, straight black moustache ; 
 its mouth large and hard set; its eyes wherein 
 mirth and moroseness were at frequent strife for 
 mastery. Being, as I have reluctantly confessed, a 
 vain man without good cause for vanity, I knew the 
 face well and it was with small satisfaction I re- 
 membered it now, while looking upon the manly 
 fairness of George Anderson. 
 
 Yet, such is the inconsistency of men, I was con- 
 scious of a faint, inexplicable pity for him. I felt 
 myself stronger than he, and wiser in the knowl- 
 edge of life. But he had the promise of that
 
 42 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 which to me was more than life. He had, as I 
 kept telling myself, Yvonne's love ; yet had 
 he? So obstinate is hope, I would not yield all 
 credence to this telling. At least I had one ad- 
 vantage, if no other. I was wiser than he in this, 
 that / knew my love for Yvonne, and he did not 
 know it. Yet this was but a poor vantage, and 
 even upon the moment I had resolved to throw it 
 away. I resolved that he should be as wise as I 
 on this point, if telling could make him so.
 
 Chapter VII 
 Guard ! 
 
 I HAD just arrived at this significant determi- 
 nation when I was roused from my reverie by 
 Anderson making his farewells. He was holding 
 out his hand to me. 
 
 " Your face is stern, monsieur," he said. " Were 
 you fighting your old battles o'er again?" 
 
 " No new ones ! " I laughed, springing up and 
 seizing his hand. 
 
 " May you win them, as of old ! " he exclaimed, 
 with great heartiness. 
 
 " You are generous, monsieur," I said gently, 
 looking him in the eyes. 
 
 But this remark he took as quite the ordinary 
 reply, and with a bright glance for us all he moved 
 toward the door. Yvonne followed him, as it 
 seemed was expected of her. 
 
 "Must you go so early?" she asked, with a 
 kindness in her voice which pierced me. 
 
 " Yes," he said, looking down at her upturned 
 face. " The tide is just right now, and this fair 
 
 43
 
 44 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 wind must not be lost. It will be a fine run under 
 this moon; and Pierre has the new boat over 
 to-night." 
 
 " It is a good night," she assented, peering 
 through the open door with a gesture of gay 
 inquiry; "and how sweet the apple-blossoms 
 smell ! Have you as good air as this, Monsieur 
 Grande, on those western rivers of yours, or at 
 Trois Pistoles? " 
 
 As she did not turn her head or seem to re- 
 quire an answer, I made none. And, indeed, I was 
 spared the necessity, for Anderson intervened with 
 matter of his own. 
 
 " Come down to the gate with me, won't you? " 
 I heard him beg in a low voice. 
 
 But for some reason Mademoiselle was not dis- 
 posed to be kind that night. She drew back, and 
 looked down pointedly at her dainty embroidered 
 moccasins. 
 
 " Oh," she cried lightly and aloud, with a tan- 
 talizing ring in her voice, "just think how wet 
 the path is ! " 
 
 Anderson turned away with a disappointed air, 
 whereupon she reached out her hand imperiously 
 for him to kiss. Then she waved him a gay bon voy- 
 age, and came back into the room with a quick light- 
 ness of step which seemed like laughter in itself. 
 Her eyes were a dancing marvel, with some strange 
 excitement.
 
 Guard ! 45 
 
 " Monsieur," she began, coming straight toward 
 me. But I just then awoke to my purpose. 
 
 "A thousand pardons, mademoiselle and 
 madame ! " I cried, springing to my feet and hast- 
 ening to the door. " I will be back in two mo- 
 ments ; but I have a word for Monsieur Anderson 
 before he goes." 
 
 That I should interrupt her in this way, and rush 
 off when she was about to speak to me, fetched a 
 sudden little cloud of astonishment over Yvonne's 
 face. But I would not be delayed. I made haste 
 down the path and caught Anderson before he 
 reached the gate. He paused with an air of genial 
 surprise. 
 
 " Your pardon, monsieur," said I ; " but with 
 your permission I will accompany you a few steps, 
 as I have something to say to you." 
 
 " I am glad to have your company, monsieur," 
 said he, with a manner that spoke sincerity. 
 
 "Are. you?" said I abruptly. "Well, somehow 
 I take your words as something more than the 
 thin clink of compliment. I like you I liked 
 you the moment my eyes fell upon you." 
 
 His face flashed into a rare illumination, and 
 without a word he held out his hand. 
 
 I could not but smile responsively, though I 
 thrust my hand behind my back and shook my head. 
 
 " Wait ! " said I. " I want to say to you that I 
 love I love Mademoiselle de Lamourie ! "
 
 46 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 His face clouded a little, and he withdrew his 
 hand, but not angrily. 
 
 " We are very much of one mind in that, I assure 
 you," he said. 
 
 " The very ground she walks upon is sacred to 
 me," I continued. 
 
 He smiled ever so little at the passion of my 
 speech, but answered thoughtfully: 
 
 " It is but natural, I suppose. I do not think 
 we will quarrel upon that score, monsieur." 
 
 " For two years," said I, in a low voice, speaking 
 coldly and evenly, " I have been moved night and 
 day by this love only. It has supported me in 
 hunger and in weariness ; it has led me in the 
 wilderness ; it has strengthened me in the fight ; 
 it has been more to me than all ambition. Even 
 my love of my country has been second to it. I 
 came here to-day for one reason only. And I 
 find you ! " 
 
 " None can know so well as I what you have 
 lost, monsieur," said he very gravely, " as none 
 can know so well as I what I have gained." 
 
 His kindness, no less than his confidence, hurt 
 me. 
 
 " Are you so sure? " I asked. 
 
 "The discussion is unusual, monsieur," said he, 
 with a sudden resentment. " I will only remind 
 you that Mademoiselle de Lamourie has accepted 
 my suit."
 
 Guard ! 47 
 
 No man's sternness has ever troubled me, and 
 I smiled slightly in acknowledgment of his very 
 reasonable remark. 
 
 " The situation is unusual, so you must pardon 
 me," said I, " if I arrogate to myself a somewhat 
 unusual freedom. I tell you now frankly that by 
 all open and honorable means I will strive to win 
 the love of Mademoiselle de Lamourie. I have 
 hope that she has not yet clearly found the wisdom 
 of her heart. I believe that I, not you, am the 
 man whom she will love. Laugh at my vanity as 
 much as you will. I am not yet ready to say my 
 hope is dead, my life turned to nothingness." 
 
 " You are weak," said he, with some severity, 
 " to hold your life thus, as it were, in jeopardy of a 
 woman's whim." 
 
 I could hardly restrain my voice from betray- 
 ing a certain triumph which I felt at this sign of 
 imperfection in his love. 
 
 " If you hold it a weakness," said I, " there is a 
 point at last in which we differ. If it be a weak- 
 ness, then it is one which, up to two years ago, I 
 had scarce dared hope to attain. Few, indeed, are 
 the women, and as few men, strong enough for the 
 full knowledge of love." 
 
 " Yet the greatest love is not the whole of life," 
 he averred disputatiously. 
 
 " You speak but coldly," said I, " for the lover 
 of Mademoiselle de Lamourie."
 
 48 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 He started. I had stung him. " I am of the 
 Society of Friends a Quaker ! " said he 
 harshly. " I do not fight. I lift not my hand 
 against my fellow-man. Yet did I believe that 
 you would succeed in winning her love, I think I 
 would kill you where you stand ! " 
 
 I liked the sharp lines of his face as he said it, 
 fronting me with eyes grown suddenly cruel. I 
 felt that he meant it, for the moment at least. 
 
 " Say, rather," said I, smiling, " that you would 
 honestly try your best to kill me. It would be an 
 interesting experiment. Well, now we understand 
 each other. / will honestly try my best to do you 
 what will be, in my eyes, the sorest injury in the 
 world. But I will try by fair means only, and if I 
 fail I will bear you no grudge. In all else, how- 
 ever, believe that I do greatly desire your welfare, 
 and will seize with eagerness any occasion of doing 
 you a service. You are perhaps less unworthy 
 of Mademoiselle de Lamourie than I am, save 
 that you cannot love her so well. And now" I 
 added with a smile, " will you take my hand? " 
 
 As I held . it out to him he at first drew back 
 and seemed disposed to repulse me. Then his 
 face cleared. 
 
 " You are honest ! " he exclaimed, and wrung 
 my hand with great cordiality. " I rather like 
 you and I am very sorry for you. I have her 
 promise."
 
 Guard ! 49 
 
 " Well," said I, " if also you have her love you 
 are the most fortunate man on God's earth ! " 
 
 " I have it ! " said he blithely, and strode off 
 down the path between the apple-trees, his fine 
 shoulders held squarely, and a confidence in all 
 his bearing. But a wave of pity for him, and 
 strange tenderness, went over me in that moment, 
 for in that moment I felt an assurance that I 
 should win. 
 
 It was an assurance doomed to swift ruin. It 
 was an assurance destined soon to be hidden under 
 such a vast wreckage of my hopes that even mem- 
 ory marvelled when she dragged it forth to light.
 
 Chapter VIII 
 The Moon in the Apple-bough 
 
 DURING all our conversation we had stood in 
 plain view of the windows, so that our 
 friendly parting must have been visible to all the 
 house. On my return within doors I found Yvonne 
 walking up and down in a graceful impatience, her 
 black lace shawl thrown lightly about her head. 
 
 " If you want to," said she, " you may come 
 out on the porch with me for a little while, mon- 
 sieur. I want you to talk to me." 
 
 " Yvonne," exclaimed her mother, in a rebuking 
 voice, " will not this room do as well ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, little mamma," said she wilfully. 
 " Nothing will do as well as the porch, where the 
 moonlight is, and the smell of the apple-blossoms. 
 You know, dear, Grand Pre is not Paris ! " 
 
 " Nor yet is it Quebec," said I pointedly. 
 
 Monsieur de Lamourie smiled. Whatever 
 Yvonne would was in his eyes good. But her 
 mother yielded only with a little gesture of 
 protest. 
 
 50
 
 The Moon in the Apple-bough 51 
 
 " Yvonne is always a law unto herself," she 
 murmured. 
 
 "And to others, I judge," said I, following the 
 light figure out upon the porch, and closing the 
 door behind me. 
 
 I praised the saints for the freedom of Grand 
 Pre. At Quebec Mademoiselle would have been 
 the most formal of the formalists, because in Que- 
 bec it was easy to be misjudged. 
 
 In the corner of the porch, where a huge apple- 
 bough thrust its blossoms in beneath the roof, was 
 slung a stout hammock such as sailors use on ship- 
 board. Mademoiselle de Lamourie had seen these 
 during a voyage down the Gulf from Quebec, and 
 had so fancied them that her father had been im- 
 pelled to have one netted for her by the shad- 
 fishers. It was her favoured lounging-place, and 
 thither she betook herself now without apology. 
 In silence I held the tricksy netting for her. In 
 silence I placed the cushion beneath her head. 
 Then she said : 
 
 " You may sit there," and she pointed, with a little 
 imperious motion, to a stout bench standing against 
 the wall. 
 
 I accepted the seat, but not its location. I 
 brought it and placed it as close as I dared to the 
 hammock. In doing so I clumsily set the ham- 
 mock swinging. 
 
 " Please stop it," said Mademoiselle ; and as I
 
 52 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 seated myself I laid my hand on the side of the 
 hammock to arrest its motion. My fingers found 
 themselves in contact with other fingers, very slim 
 and warm and soft. My breath came in a quick 
 gasp, and I drew away my hand in a strange and 
 overwhelming perturbation. The hammock was 
 left to stop of itself and, indeed, its swinging 
 was but slight. As for me, I was possessed by an 
 infinite amazement to find myself thus put to con- 
 fusion by a touch. I had no word to say, but sat 
 gazing dumbly at the white figure in the moon- 
 light. 
 
 Her face was very pallid in that colorless light, 
 and her eyes greater and darker than ever, deeps 
 of mystery, and now, I thought, of grave mock- 
 ery as well. She watched me for a little in silence, 
 and then said : 
 
 " I let you come out here to talk to me, mon- 
 sieur ! " 
 
 I straightened myself upon the bench, and tried 
 my voice. My misgivings were justified. It trem- 
 bled, beyond a doubt. The witch had me at a 
 grave disadvantage. But I spoke on quietly. 
 
 " From my two years in the woods of the West, 
 mademoiselle," said I, " I brought home to Grand 
 Pre certain wonderful dreams. Of these I find 
 some more than realized ; but one, which gave all 
 meaning to the rest, has been put to death this 
 night."
 
 " I ... sat gazing dumbly at the white figure in the 
 moonlight."
 
 The Moon in the Apple-bough 53 
 
 " Even in Grand Pre dreams are no new thing," 
 she said in haste. " I want to hear of deeds, of 
 brave and great action. Tell me what you have 
 done for I know that will be brave." And she 
 smiled at me such kind encouragement that my 
 heart began thumping with vehemence. However, 
 I made shift to tell her a little of my wanderings 
 of a bush fight here, a night march there, of the 
 foiling of a foe, of the timely succour of a friend 
 till I saw that I was pleasing her. Her face leaned 
 a little toward me. Her eyes spoke, dilating and 
 contracting. Her lips were slightly parted as she 
 listened. And into every adventure, every situa- 
 tion, every movement, I contrived to weave a sug- 
 gestion of her influence, of the thought of her 
 guiding and upholding me. These things, touched 
 lightly and at once let pass, she did not rebuke. 
 She feigned not to understand them. 
 
 At last I paused and looked at her, waiting for 
 a word of praise or blame. 
 
 " And your poetry, monsieur? " she said gently. 
 " Surely that was not all the time forgotten. This 
 Acadian land, with its wonder and its beauty, has 
 found no interpreter but you, and your brave work 
 in the field would be a misfortune, not a benefit, if 
 it cost us your song." 
 
 " The loss of my verses were no great loss," 
 said I. 
 
 " Indeed, monsieur," she said earnestly, " I do
 
 54 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 not think you can be as modest as you pretend. 
 But I am sincere. Since we have known your song 
 of them, I think that mamma and I have watched 
 only through your eyes the great sweep of the 
 Minas tides. And only the other day I heard 
 papa, who cares for no poetry but his old ' Chan- 
 sons de Gestes,' quoting you to Father Fafard with 
 evident enthusiasm." She paused but I said 
 nothing. I had talked long ; and I wished her to 
 continue. What she was saying, the manner of her 
 saying it, were such as I could long listen to. 
 
 " As for me," she went on, " I never walk down 
 the orchard in summer time without saying over 
 to myself your song of the apple-leaves." 
 
 "You do, really, remember my verses? " said I, 
 flushing with surprise and joy. I was not used to 
 commendation for such things, my verses being 
 wont to win no more approval than they merited, 
 which I felt to be very little. 
 
 She laughed softly, and began to quote : 
 
 " ' O apple leaves, so cool and green 
 
 Against the summer sky, 
 You stir, although the wind is still 
 And not a bird goes by ! 
 
 You start, 
 And softly move apart 
 
 In hushed expectancy. 
 Who is the gracious visitor 
 Whose form I cannot see?
 
 The Moon in the Apple-bough 55 
 
 " 'O apple leaves, the mystic light 
 
 All down your dim arcade ! 
 Why do your shadows tremble so, 
 Half glad and half afraid? 
 
 The air 
 Is an unspoken prayer; 
 
 Your eyes look all one way. 
 Who is the secret visitor 
 
 Your tremors would betray?' " 
 
 It was a slight thing, which I had never thought 
 particularly well of; but on her lips it achieved a 
 music unimagined before. 
 
 " Your voice," said I, " makes it beautiful, as it 
 makes all words beautiful. Yes, I have written 
 some small bits of verse during my exile, but they 
 have been different from those of mine which you 
 honour with your praise. They have had another, 
 a more wonderful, theme a theme all too high 
 for them, which nevertheless spurred them to their 
 best. They have at least one merit they speak 
 the truth from my heart." As I spoke I felt my- 
 self leaning forward, though not of set purpose, 
 and my voice sank almost to a whisper. 
 
 " One of them," I continued, begins in this way : 
 
 " A moonbeam or a breath, above thine eyes I bow, 
 
 Silent, unseen, 
 But not, ah! not unknown " 
 
 " Wait ! " she interrupted, in a voice that sounded 
 a little faint. " Wait ! I want to hear them all,
 
 56 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 monsieur; but not to-night. You shall say them 
 to me to-morrow. I must not stay to listen to 
 them to-night. I am a little cold, I think ! 
 Help me out, please ! " And she rashly gave me 
 her hand. 
 
 Now, it was my honest intention at that instant 
 to do just her bidding and no more ; but when I 
 touched her fingers reason and judgment flowed 
 from me. I bowed my head over them to the 
 edge of the hammock, and with both my hands 
 crushed them to my lips. She sank back upon 
 her cushion, with a little catching of her breath. 
 
 After a few moments I raised my head but 
 with no speech and with no set purpose and 
 looked at her face. It was very grave, and curi- 
 ously troubled, but I detected no reproach in the 
 great eyes that met mine. A fierce impulse seized 
 me to gather her in my arms but I durst not, 
 and my eyes dropped as I thought of it. By 
 chance they rested upon her feet upon the tiny, 
 quill-worked, beaded white moccasins, demurely 
 crossed, the one over the other. Her skirt was so 
 closely gathered about her ankles that just an inch 
 or two of one arched instep was visible over the 
 edge of the low-cut moccasin. Before I myself 
 could realize what I was about to do, or half the 
 boldness of the act, in a passion that was all wor- 
 ship I threw myself down beside her feet and 
 kissed them.
 
 The Moon in the Apple-bough 57 
 
 It was for an instant only that my daring so 
 prevailed. Then she suddenly slipped away. In 
 a breathless confusion I sprang to my feet, and 
 found her standing erect at the other side of the 
 hammock. Her eyes blazed upon me ; but one 
 small hand was at her throat, as if she found it 
 hard to speak. 
 
 " How could you dare ? " she panted. " What 
 right did I give you ? What right did I ever give 
 you?" 
 
 I leaned against the pillar that supported one 
 end of the hammock. 
 
 " Forgive me ! I could not help it. I have 
 loved you, worshipped you, so long ! " I said in a 
 very low voice. 
 
 "How dare you speak so?" she cried. "You 
 forget that " 
 
 "No, I remember!" I interrupted doggedly. 
 " I forget nothing. You do not love him. You 
 are mine." 
 
 " Oh ! " she gasped, lifting both hands sharply 
 to her face and dropping them at once. " I shall 
 never trust you again." 
 
 And in a moment she had flashed past me, with 
 a sob, and disappeared into the house.
 
 Chapter IX 
 In Sleep a King, but Waking, no such Matter 
 
 DE LAMOURIE himself showed me to my 
 room, a low chamber under the eaves, very 
 plainly furnished. In the houses of the few Aca- 
 dian gentry there was little of the luxury to be 
 found in the seigneurial mansions of the St. Law- 
 rence. In the De Lamourie house, for example, 
 there were but two serving-maids, with one man to 
 work the little farm. 
 
 If De Lamourie had noted any excitement on 
 Yvonne's part, or any abstraction on mine, he said 
 nothing of it. With simple kindness he set down 
 the candle on my dressing-table and wished me 
 good sleep. But at the door he turned. 
 
 " Are you well assured that the abbe will not 
 attempt to carry out his threat?" he asked, with a 
 tinge of anxiety in his voice. 
 
 "I am confident of it," I answered boldly. 
 " That worthy ecclesiastic will not try issues with 
 me, when I hold the king's commission." 
 
 Just why I should have been so overweeningly 
 53
 
 In Sleep a King 59 
 
 secure is not clear to me now that I look back 
 upon it. That I should have expected the terrible 
 La Game to bow so pliantly to my command ap- 
 pears to me now the most fatuous of vain follies. 
 In truth I was thinking only of Yvonne. But De 
 Lamourie seemed to take my assurance as final, 
 and went away in blither mood. 
 
 My room was lighted by a narrow, high-peaked 
 dormer window, through which I could look out 
 across the moonlit orchards, the level dyke-lands, 
 the wide and winding mouth of the Gaspereau, and 
 the far-glimmering breast of Minas. Upon these 
 my eyes rested long but the eyes of my soul 
 saw quite another loveliness than that of the 
 moon-flooded landscape. They brooded upon 
 Yvonne's face the troubled, changing, pleading 
 look in her eyes her sharp and strange emotion 
 at the last. Over and over it all I went, reliving 
 each moment, each word, each look, each breath. 
 Then, being deeply wearied by my long day's 
 tramp, but with no hint of sleep coming to my 
 eyes, I threw myself down upon the bed to deli- 
 ciously think it all over yet again. I had grown 
 sure that Yvonne loved me. Yet once more, in a 
 still ecstasy of reverence and love, I fell at her feet 
 and kissed them. Then I thought about the stone 
 which Mother Pche had given me, and its mystic 
 virtues, which I would explain to Yvonne on the 
 morrow in the apple-orchard. Then I found my-
 
 60 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 self fancying that it was Yvonne who had given 
 me the talisman, bidding me guard it well if I 
 would ever hope to win her from my English 
 rival. And then the sunlight lay in a white 
 streak across my bed-foot, the morning sky was 
 blue over the dyke lands, and the robins were joy- 
 ous in the apple-blooms under my window. What 
 a marvellous air blew in upon my face, sweet with 
 all freshness and cleanness and wholesome strength ! 
 I sprang up, deriding myself. I had slept all night 
 in my clothes. 
 
 At breakfast I found myself in plain favour; 
 I had made good my boast and shielded the house 
 from the Black Abbe. Yvonne met my eager 
 looks with a baffling lightness. She was all gay 
 courtesy to me, but there was that in her face which 
 well dashed my hopes. Some faint encourage- 
 ment, indeed, I drew from the thought that her 
 pallor (which became her wonderfully) seemed 
 to tell the tale of a sleepless night. Had she, 
 then, lain awake, wearily reproaching herself, 
 while I slept like a clod? If so, my punish- 
 ment was not long delayed. Before the break- 
 fast was over I was in a fever of despairing 
 solicitude. At last I achieved a moment's speech 
 with Yvonne while the others were out of ear- 
 shot. 
 
 "This morning," said I, "in the apple-orchard, 
 by an old tree which I shall all my life remember,
 
 In Sleep a King 61 
 
 I am to read you those verses, am I not? That 
 was your decree." 
 
 She faced me with laughter in her eyes, but 
 the eyes dropped in spite of her, and the colour 
 came a little back to her cheeks. 
 
 " I decree otherwise this morning," she said, in 
 a voice whose lightness was not perfect. " I am 
 busy to-day, and shall not hear your poems at all, 
 unless you read them to us this evening." 
 
 "I will read them to you alone," I muttered, 
 " who alone are the source of them, or I will burn 
 them at once ! " 
 
 " Don't burn them," she said, flashing one ra- 
 diant glance at me. 
 
 " Then when may I read them to you ? " I 
 begged. 
 
 " When you are older, and a little wiser, and a 
 great deal better," she laughed, turning away with 
 a finality in her air that convinced me my day 
 was lost. 
 
 Putting my bravest face on my defeat, I said to 
 Madame de Lamourie : 
 
 " If you will pardon me, Madame, I shall con- 
 strain myself and attend to certain duties in and 
 about Grand Pre to-day. I must see the cure ; 
 and I have a commission to execute for the Sieur 
 de Briart, which will take me perhaps as far as 
 Pereau. In such case I shall not be back here 
 before to-morrow noon."
 
 62 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " If our pleasure concerns you," said Madame 
 very graciously, " make your absence as brief as 
 you can." 
 
 " I was born with a nice regard for self," I re- 
 plied. " You may be sure I shall return as quickly 
 as possible." 
 
 " And what if the Black Abbe should come 
 while you are away?" questioned Yvonne, in 
 mock alarm. 
 
 " If that extraordinary priest makes my pres- 
 ence here a long necessity I shall come to regard 
 him as my best friend," said I, laughing, as I 
 bowed myself out to join De Lamourie in a stroll 
 over the farm. 
 
 During this walk I learned much of the state of 
 unrest and painful dread under which Acadie was 
 laboring. De Lamourie told me how the English 
 governor at Halifax was bringing a mighty press- 
 ure to bear upon all the Acadian householders, 
 urging them to swear allegiance to King George. 
 This, he said, very many were willing to do, as 
 the English had governed them with justice and a 
 most patient indulgence. For his own part, while 
 he regretted to go counter to opinions which I 
 held well-nigh sacred, he declared that, in his 
 judgment, the cause of France was forever lost in 
 Acadie, if not in all Canada. He felt it his duty 
 to give in his allegiance to the English throne, 
 under whose protection he had prospered these
 
 In Sleep a King 63 
 
 many years. But strong as the English were, he 
 said, the prospect was not reassuring ; for many 
 of those who had taken the oath had been brought 
 to swift repentance by the Black Abbe's painted 
 and yelling pack, the very Christian Micmacs of 
 Shubenacadie ; while others had been pillaged, 
 maltreated, and even in some cases murdered, by 
 the band of masquerading cut-throats who served 
 the will of the infamous Vaurin. 
 
 At this I grew hot within, realizing as I had 
 not done before the vile connection into which the 
 Commandant Vergor had cast me. But I said 
 nothing, being unwilling to interrupt De Lamou- 
 rie's impassioned story. He told of horrid 
 treacheries on the part of the Micmacs, dis- 
 avowed, indeed, by La Game, but unquestionably 
 winked at by him as a means of keeping the Aca- 
 dians in hand. He told of whole villages wiped 
 out by the Black Abbe's order, the houses burned, 
 the trembling villagers removed to He St. Jean or 
 across the isthmus, that they might be beyond the 
 reach of English seductions. He told, too, of the 
 hideous massacre at Dartmouth, the infant English 
 settlement across the harbor from Halifax. This 
 had come to my ears, but he gave me the reeking 
 particulars. 
 
 " And this, too," I asked in horror, " is it La 
 Game's work? " 
 
 " He is accused of it by the English," said
 
 64 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 he, " but for once he is accused unjustly, I do 
 believe. It was Vaurin who planned it; Vaurin 
 and his cut-throats, disguised as Indians and with 
 a few of La Game's flock to help, who carried it 
 out. It was too purposeless for La Game. He 
 rules his savages with a rod of iron, and it is said 
 that his displeasure lay heavy for a time upon the 
 braves who had taken part in that outrage. They 
 went without pay or booty for many months. 
 But at length he forgave them he had work for 
 them to do." 
 
 When the tale was done, and it was a tale that 
 filled me with shame for my country's cause, I 
 said: 
 
 " It is well my word carried such weight with 
 the good abbe last night. It is well indeed, and 
 it is wonderful ! " 
 
 " I cannot even yet quite understand it," said 
 De Lamourie, " but the essential part is the highly 
 satisfactory result. I am going to Halifax next 
 Monday, Paul, with a half score followers who 
 feel as I do ; and though I cannot expect you to 
 sympathize with my course, I dare to hope you 
 may be able to prolong your visit so as to keep 
 my wife and daughter under your effective protec- 
 tion." 
 
 I think I must have let the eagerness with 
 which I accepted this trust betray itself in voice 
 or face, for Monsieur de Lamourie looked at me
 
 In Sleep a King 65 
 
 curiously. But I really cared little what his sus- 
 picions might be. If I could win Yvonne I thought 
 I might be sure of Yvonne's father. 
 
 Having well admired the orchard, and tried to 
 distinguish the " pippin " trees from the " belle- 
 fleurs," the " Jeannetons " from the " Pride of 
 Normandie ; " having praised the rich and even 
 growth of the flax field ; having talked with an 
 excellent assumption of wisdom on the well-bred 
 and well-fed cattle which were a hobby with this 
 courtier farmer, this Versailles Acadian, I stepped 
 forth into the main street of Grand Pre and turned 
 toward the house of Father Fafard. I was curi- 
 ously troubled by an uneasiness as to the Black 
 Abbe, and I knew no better antidote to a bad 
 priest than a good one.
 
 Chapter X 
 A Grand Pre Morning 
 
 WHEN I stepped off the wide grounds of 
 Monsieur de Lamourie I was at the ex- 
 treme eastern end of the village. How little did I 
 dream that this fairest of Acadian towns was 
 lying even now beneath the shadow of doom ! 
 I am never superstitious in the morning. Little 
 did I dream how near was the fulfilment of Grul's 
 grim prophecy, or how, in that fulfilment, Grand 
 Pre was presently to fade like an exhalation from 
 the face of this wide green Acadian land ! It pleases 
 me, since no mortal eye shall ever again see 
 Grand Pre as she was, to find that now I recall with 
 clear-edged memory the picture which she made 
 that June morning. Not only do I see her, but I 
 hear her pleasant sounds the shallow rushing of 
 the Gaspereau at ebb ; the mooing of the cattle 
 on the uplands ; the mellow tangle of small bell- 
 music from the bobolinks a-hover over the dyke 
 meadows ; now and then a neighbour call from 
 roadside to barn or porch or window; and ever 
 
 66
 
 A Grand Pre Morning 67 
 
 the cheery ding-clank, ding-clank from the forge 
 far up the street. Not only do I hear the pleasant 
 sounds, but the clean smells of that fragrant coun- 
 try come back continually with wholesome remin- 
 iscence. Oh, how the apple-blossoms breathed 
 their souls out upon that tender morning air ! How 
 the spring wind, soft with a vital moisture, per- 
 suaded forth the obscure essences of grass and sod 
 and thicket ! How good was the salty sea-tang 
 from the uncovered flats, and the emptied channels, 
 and the still-dripping lines of tide-mark sedge ! 
 There was a faint savour of tar, too, at intervals, 
 evasively pungent; for some three furlongs dis- 
 tant, at the end of a lane which ran at right angles 
 to the main street, a little creek fell into the Gas- 
 pereau, and by the wharf at the creek-mouth were 
 fishermen mending their boats for the shad-fishing. 
 Oh, that unjustly ignored member, the nose ! 
 How subtle and indestructible are its memories ! 
 They know the swiftest way to the sources of joy 
 and tears. The eye, the ear, the nice nerves of 
 the fingertip, these have no such sway over the 
 mysteries of remembrance. They have never been 
 quite so intimate, for a sweet smell duly appre- 
 hended becomes a part of the very brain and 
 blood. I have a little cream-yellow kerchief of 
 silk laid away in many folds of scentless paper. 
 Sometimes I untie it and look at it. How well I 
 remember it as once it clung about the fair hair of
 
 68 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 my young mother ! I see myself, a thin, dark, 
 grave-faced little boy, leaning against her knee 
 and looking up with love into her face. The 
 memory moves me but as a picture. " Was it 
 I? " I am able to wonder. " And did I, that dark 
 boy, have a mother like that? " But when I bury 
 my face in the kerchief, and inhale the faint sa- 
 vour it still wonderfully holds, I know, I feel it all. 
 Once more I am in her arms, strained to her 
 breast, my small face pressed close to her smooth 
 neck where the tiny ripples of silken gold began ; 
 and I smell the delicate, intimate sweetness that 
 seemed to be her very self; and my eyes run over 
 with hot tears of longing for her kiss. I have a 
 skirt of hers, too, laid away, and an apron ; but 
 these do not so much move me, for as a child 
 I spoiled them with weeping into them, I think. 
 The kerchief was not then large enough to attract 
 the childish vehemence of my sorrow, so it was 
 spared, till by and by I came to know and guard 
 the priceless talisman of memory which it held. 
 
 For some minutes I stood at the street-foot, 
 looking down the river-bank to the wharf and the 
 boats, steeping my brain in those pleasant smells 
 of Grand Pre. Then I turned up the street. It 
 was all as I had left it two years before, save that 
 then the apple-trees were green like the willows 
 by the marsh edge ; while now they were white 
 and pink, a foam of bee-thronged sweetness surg-
 
 A Grand Pr6 Morning 69 
 
 ing close about the village roofs. The cottages 
 on either side the street were low, and dazzling 
 white with lime-wash from the Piziquid quarries. 
 Their wide-flaring gables were presented with 
 great regularity to the street. The roofs of the 
 larger cottages were broken by narrow dormer 
 windows; and all, large and small alike, were 
 stained to a dark purplish-slate color with a wash 
 which is made, I understand, by mixing the lime 
 with a quantity of slaked hard-wood ash. The 
 houses stood each with a little space before it, now 
 neatly tilled and deeply tufted with young green, 
 but presently to become a mass of colour when the 
 scarlet lychnis, blue larkspur, lavender, marigolds, 
 and other summer-blooming plants should break 
 into flower. Far up the street, at the point where 
 a crossroad led out over the marshes to the low, 
 dark-wooded ridge of the island, stood the forge ; 
 and as I drew nearer the warm, friendly breath of 
 the fire purred under the anvil's clinking. Back of 
 the forge, along the brink of the open green levels, 
 stood a grove of rounded willow-trees. Further 
 on, a lane bordered with smaller cabins ran in a 
 careless, winding fashion up the hillside ; and a 
 little way from the corner, dwarfing the roofs, 
 loftily overpeering the most venerable apple-trees, 
 and wearing a conscious air of benignant super- 
 vision, rose the church of Grand Pre, somewhat 
 squatly capacious in the body, but with a spire
 
 70 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 that soared very graciously. Just beyond, but 
 hidden by the church, I could see in my mind's 
 eye the cure's cottage. My footsteps hastened at 
 the thought of Father Fafard and his greeting. 
 
 The men of the village were at that hour mostly 
 away in the fields ; but there were enough at home 
 about belated barnyard business to halt me many 
 times with their welcomes before I got to the forge. 
 These greetings, in the main, had the old-time 
 heartiness, making me feel my citizenship in Grand 
 Pre. But there was much eager interrogation as 
 to the cause of my presence, and a something of 
 suspicion, at times, in the acceptance of my sim- 
 ple answer, which puzzled and vexed me. It was 
 borne in upon me that I was thought to be com- 
 missioned with great matters, and my frankness 
 but a mask for grave and dubious affairs. 
 
 Outside the forge, when at last I came to it, 
 stood waiting two horses, while another was inside 
 being shod. The acrid smell of the searing iron 
 upon the hoof awoke in my breast a throng of 
 boyish memories, which, however, I had not time 
 to note and discriminate between ; for the owners 
 of the two horses hailed and stopped me. They 
 were men of the out-settlements, whom I knew but 
 well enough to pass the weather with. Yet I saw 
 it in their eyes that they had heard something of 
 my arrival. Question hung upon their lips. I gave 
 them no time for it, but with as little patience as
 
 A Grand Pre Morning 71 
 
 consisted with civility I hastened into the forge 
 and seized the hand of the smith, my old friend 
 and my true friend, Nicole Brun. 
 
 " Master Paul ! " he cried, in a voice which 
 meant a thousand welcomes; and stood gripping 
 my fingers, and searching me with his eyes, while 
 the iron in his other hand slowly faded from pink 
 to purple. 
 
 " Well," I laughed presently, " there is one man 
 in Grand Pre, I perceive, who is merely glad to 
 greet me home, and not too deeply troubled over 
 the reasons for my coming." 
 
 " Hein ! You've seen it and heard it already," 
 said Nicole, releasing my fingers from his knotty 
 grasp, and throwing back his thick shoulders with 
 a significant shrug. " Mother Pche told me last 
 night of your coming; and last night, too, the 
 Black Abbe passed this way. The town is all of 
 a buzz with reasons, this way and that. And some 
 there be that are for you, but more that fear you, 
 Master Paul." 
 
 " Fear me? " I asked, incredulous. 
 
 " Along of the Black Abbe and Vaurin ! " an- 
 swered Nicole, as if explaining everything. 
 
 "That Vaurin curse him! " I exclaimed an- 
 grily. "But what say you, Nicole? I give you 
 my word, as I have told every one, I come to 
 Grand Pre on my own private business, and mix 
 not at all with public matters."
 
 72 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " So? " said he, lifting his shaggy eyebrows in 
 plain surprise. " But in any case it had been all 
 the same to me. I'm a quiet man, and bide me 
 here, taking no part but to forge an honest shoe 
 for the beast of friend or foe; but I'm your man, 
 Master Paul, through thick and thin, as my father 
 was your father's. Tis a hard thing to decide, 
 these days, what with Halifax and the English 
 governor pulling one way, Quebec and the Black 
 Abbe pulling the other, and his reverence's red 
 devils up to Lord knows what ! But I follow you, 
 Master Paul, come what may ! I'm ready." 
 
 I laid my hand laughingly on his shoulder, and 
 thanked him. 
 
 " I believe you, my friend," said I. " And 
 there's no man I trust more. But I've no lead to 
 set you just now. Be true to France, in all open- 
 ness, and lend no ear to treachery, is all I say. I 
 am the king's man, heart and soul ; but the Eng- 
 lish are a fair foe, and to be fought with fair 
 weapons, say I, or not at all." 
 
 " Right you are, Master Paul," grunted Nicole in 
 hearty approval. There was a triumphant grin on 
 his square and sooty face, which I marked with 
 a passing wonder. 
 
 " And as for this Vaurin," I continued, " I spit 
 on all such sneaking fire-in-the-night, throat-slit- 
 ting, scalp-lifting rabble, who bring a good cause 
 to bitter shame ! "
 
 A Grand Pre Morning 73 
 
 I spoke with unwonted heat; for I was yet 
 wroth at the commandant for his misuse of my 
 ignorance, and smarting raw at the notion of being 
 classed in with Vaurin. 
 
 I observed that at my words Nicole's triumphant 
 grin was shot across with a sort of apprehension ; 
 and at the same moment I observed, too, a sturdy 
 stranger, apparently the owner of the horse now 
 being shod. He sat to the right of the forge fire, 
 far back against the wall ; but as I finished he 
 sprang to his feet and came briskly forward. 
 
 " Blood of God," he snarled blasphemously, 
 " but this is carrying the joke too far ! You play 
 your part a trifle too well, young man. Let me 
 counsel you to keep a respectful tongue in your 
 head when you speak of your betters." 
 
 " Faith, and I do that ! " said I pleasantly, 
 taking note of him with care. From his speech I 
 read him to be a Gascon of the lower sort; while 
 from his dress I judged that he played the gentle- 
 man adventurer. But I set him down for a hardy 
 rogue. 
 
 " But from whom do I receive in such ill lan- 
 guage such excellent good advice?" I went on. 
 
 " One who can enforce it ! " he cried roughly, 
 misled by my civil air. " I'm a friend of Cap- 
 tain Vaurin, whom I have the honour to serve. It 
 seems to suit some purpose of yours just now to 
 deny it, but you were with him yesterday, in coun-
 
 74 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 sel with him, a messenger from Colonel Vergor 
 to him; and you came on here at his orders." 
 
 " That is a lie ! " said I very gently, smiling 
 upon him. " The other rascal, Vergor, tricked me 
 with his letter ; and he shall pay for it ! " 
 
 Thus given the lie, but so softly, the fellow 
 uttered a choking gurgle betwixt astonishment 
 and rage, and I calculated the chance of his rush- 
 ing upon me without warning. He was, as I 
 think I said, a very sturdy figure of a man, though 
 not tall ; and he gave sign of courage enough in 
 his angry little eyes and jutting chin. A side 
 glance at Nicole showed me that he was pleased 
 with the turn of affairs, and had small love for the 
 stranger. I caught at the doorway the faces of 
 the two men from the out-settlements, with eyes 
 and ears all agog. 
 
 The stranger gulped down his rage and set him- 
 self to ape my coolness. 
 
 " Whatever your business with my captain," 
 said he, " we are here now as private gentlemen, 
 and you must give me satisfaction. Be good 
 enough to draw, monsieur." 
 
 Now, I was embarrassed and annoyed by this 
 encounter, for I certainly could not fight one of 
 Vaurin's crew, and I was in haste to see Father 
 Fafard. I cursed my folly in having been led into 
 such an unworthy altercation. How most quickly 
 should I get out of it?
 
 A Grand Pre Morning 75 
 
 " I am a captain in the king's service," said I 
 abruptly, " and I cannot cross swords but with a 
 gentleman." 
 
 The fellow spluttered in a fine fury, more or less 
 assumed, I must believe. His oaths were of a 
 sort which grated me, but having delivered him- 
 self of them he said : 
 
 " I too serve the king. And I too, I'd have 
 you know, am a gentleman. None of your Ca- 
 nadian half-breed seigneurs, but a gentleman of 
 Gascony. Out with your sword, or I spit you ! " 
 
 " I'm very sorry," I answered smoothly, " that 
 I cannot fight with one of Vaurin's cut-throats, 
 for I perceive you to be a stout-hearted rascal who 
 might give me a good bout. But as for the gen- 
 tleman of Gascony, faith, my credulity will not 
 stand so great a tax. From your accents, Mon- 
 sieur, I could almost name the particular sty by 
 the Bordeaux waterside which must claim the 
 distinction of your birth." 
 
 As I had calculated, this insult brought it. 
 My prod had struck the raw. With a choking 
 curse the fellow sprang at me, naked handed, 
 blind in his bull strength. 
 
 I dropped one foot to the rear, met and stopped 
 the rush by planting my left fist in his face, then 
 gave him my right under his jaw, with the full 
 thrust of my body, from the foot up. It was a 
 beautiful trick, learned of an English prisoner at
 
 76 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 Montreal, who had trained me all one winter in 
 the fistic art of his countrymen. My impetuous 
 antagonist went backward over the anvil, and 
 seemed in small haste to pick himself up. The 
 spectators gaped at the strange tactics ; and 
 Nicole, as I bade him good-by, chuckled : 
 
 "There'll be trouble for this somewhere, Master 
 Paul! Watch out sharp and don't go 'round 
 o' nights without taking me along. Le Furet is 
 not nicknamed 'The Ferret' for nothing!" 
 
 " All right, my friend," said I ; " when I want a 
 guard I'll send for you." 
 
 I went off toward Father Fafard's, pleased with 
 myself, pleased with the English captain who 
 had taught me such a useful accomplishment, and 
 pleased, I confess, with Vaurin's minion for having 
 afforded me such a fair chance to display it.
 
 Chapter XI 
 Father Fafard 
 
 THE incident at the forge, as it seemed to me, 
 was one to scatter effectually any rumours 
 of my connection with Vaurin, and I congratulated 
 myself most heartily upon it. It could not fail, I 
 thought, to look well in Yvonne's eyes. It con- 
 firmed me in my resolve to go to Canard that 
 afternoon, and perhaps to Pereau, getting my 
 uncle's business off my hands, and not return- 
 ing to De Lamourie Place till I might be 
 sure that the circumstances had been heard and 
 well digested there. Having this course set- 
 tled in my mind, I passed the church, entered 
 the gate between its flowering lilac-bushes, and 
 hastened up the narrow path to Father Fafard's 
 door. Ere I could reach it the good priest stood 
 upon his threshold to greet me, both hands 
 out, his kind grey eyes half closed by the crowd- 
 ing smiles that creased his round and ruddy 
 face. 
 
 " My boy ! " he said. " I have looked for you 
 77
 
 78 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 all the morning. Why didn't you come to me 
 last night?" 
 
 His voice, big, yet low and soft, had ever quaintly 
 reminded me of a ripe apple in its mellow firmness. 
 
 Both hands in his, I answered, bantering him: 
 
 " But, father, the church gave me work to do 
 last night. Could I neglect that? I had to see 
 that the Reverend Father La Game did not turn 
 aside from his sacred ministrations to burn down 
 the houses of my friends." 
 
 The kind face grew grave and stern. 
 
 " I know! I know! " he said. " This land of 
 Acadie is in an evil case. But come, let us eat, 
 and talk afterwards. I have waited for you far 
 past my hour." 
 
 He turned into his little dining-room, a very 
 plainly furnished closet off the kitchen. 
 
 I was hungry, so for a space there was no talk, 
 while the fried chicken and barley cakes which 
 the brown old housekeeper set before us made 
 rapid disappearance. Then came sweet curds 
 with thick cream, and sugar of the maple grated 
 over them, a dish of which delectable memo- 
 ries had clung to me from boyhood. This savory 
 and wholesome meal done, Father Fafard brought 
 out some dark-red West Indian rum which smelled 
 most pleasantly. As he poured it for me he tap- 
 ped the bottle and said : 
 
 " This comes to us by way of Boston. Thes^
 
 Father Fafard 79 
 
 English have an excellent judgment in liquor, 
 Paul. It is one of our small compensations." 
 
 I laughed, thinking of the scant concern it was 
 to Father Fafard, ever, for all his fineness of pal- 
 ate, one of the most abstemious of men. As we 
 sat at ease and sipped the brew he said : 
 
 " I hear you faced down the Black Abbe last 
 night, and fairly drove him off the field." 
 
 " I had that satisfaction," said I, striving to look 
 modest over it. 
 
 " He gave way to you, the Black Abbe himself, 
 who browbeats the commandant at Beausejour, 
 and fears no man living, unless it be that mad 
 heretic Grul, perchance ! And he yielded to your 
 authority, my boy? How do you account for the 
 miracle? " 
 
 Now it had not hitherto seemed to me so much 
 of a miracle, and I was a shade nettled that it 
 should seem one to others. I was used to con- 
 trolling violent men, and why not meddling priests? 
 
 " I suppose he saw I meant it. Perhaps he 
 respected the king's commission. I know not," 
 said I v/ith indifference. 
 
 Father Fafard smiled dryly. 
 
 " I grant," said he, " that you are a hard man 
 to cross, Paul, for all your graciousness. But La 
 Game would risk that, or anything ; and he cares 
 for the king's commission only when it suits him 
 to care for it. Oh, no ! If he gave way to you he
 
 8o A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 believed you were doing his work, and he would 
 not interfere. What is your errand to Acadie, 
 Paul?" he added, suddenly leaning forward and 
 searching my face. 
 
 I felt myself flush with indignation, and half 
 rose from my seat. Then I remembered that he 
 knew nothing of my reasons for coming, and that 
 his question was but natural. This cooled me. 
 But I looked him reproachfully in the eyes. 
 
 '' Do you think me a conspirator and a compan- 
 ion of cut-throats? " I asked. " I have no public 
 business to bring me here to Grand Pre, father. I 
 got short leave from my general, my first in two 
 years, and I have come to Acadie for my own 
 pleasure and for no reason else. My word ! " 
 
 He leaned back with an air of relief. 
 
 " It is, of course, enough, Paul," said he heartily. 
 " But in these bad days one knows not what to 
 expect, nor whence the bolt may fall. There is 
 distrust on all sides. As for my unhappy people, 
 they are like to be ground to dust between the 
 upper stone of England and the lower stone of 
 France." He sighed heavily, looking out upon 
 his dooryard lilacs as if he thought to bid them 
 soon farewell. Then the kindly glance came back 
 into his eyes, and he turned them again upon me. 
 
 " But why," he inquired, " did you go first to 
 Monsieur de Lamourie's, instead of coming, as of 
 old, at once to me?"
 
 Father Fafard 81 
 
 I hesitated ; then decided to speak frankly, so 
 far as might seem fitting. 
 
 " Grul warned me," said I, " that Mademoiselle 
 de Lamourie was in danger. I dared not delay." 
 
 "Why she in especial?" he persisted, gravely 
 teasing, as was his right and custom. " Were not 
 monsieur and madame in like peril of the good 
 abbe's hand?" 
 
 " It was her peril that most concerned me," I 
 said bluntly. 
 
 He studied my face, and then, I suppose, read 
 my heart, which I made no effort to veil. The 
 smile went from his lips. 
 
 " I fear you love the girl, Paul," said he very 
 gently. " I am sorry for you, more sorry than I 
 can say. But you are too late. Were you told 
 about the Englishman?" 
 
 " I met him," said I, with a voice less steady 
 than I desired it to be, for my heart was straight- 
 way in insurrection at the topic. " Madame told 
 me, incidentally. But it is not too late, father ! 
 I may call it so when she is dead, or I." 
 
 " It is your hurt that speaks in haste," said he 
 rebukingly. " But you know you are wrong, and 
 such words idle. Indeed, my dear, dear boy, I 
 would you had her, not he. But her troth is 
 solemnly plighted, and he is a good man and fair 
 to look at ; though I like him not over well. As 
 he was a Protestant, I long stood out against him ;
 
 82 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 but Giles de Lamourie is now half English at heart, 
 and Yvonne is wilful. Why were you not here to 
 help me a half year back, my boy? " 
 
 "Ay! why not?" I exclaimed bitterly, grip- 
 ping my pewter mug till it lost all semblance of a 
 mug. " And why was I a fool, a blind, blind dolt, 
 when I was here, two years back? But I am here 
 now. And you shall see I am not too late ! " 
 
 " You speak rashly, Paul," said he, with a trace 
 of sternness. " You may be sure, however much 
 I love you, I will not help you now in your wicked 
 purpose. Would you make her false to her 
 word?" 
 
 " Her word was false to her heart, that I know," 
 said I. " Better be false for a little than for a life- 
 time, and two lives made as one death for it." 
 
 The round, kindly face smiled ironically at the 
 passion which had crept into my voice. 
 
 " You speak now as a poet, I think, Paul," said 
 he. " I suppose I must allow for some hyperbole 
 and not be too much alarmed at your passion. 
 Yet I must confess you seem to me too old for 
 this child-talk of life and death, as if they were 
 both compassed in a woman's loving or not 
 loving." 
 
 " I speak with all sobriety, father," said I, " and 
 I speak of that which I know. Forgive me if I 
 suggest that you do less." 
 
 The priest's eyes shaded as with sorrowful re-
 
 Father Fafard 83 
 
 membrance, and he looked out across the apple- 
 trees as he answered : 
 
 " You think I have always been a priest," said 
 he; " that I have always dwelt where the passions 
 and pains of earth can touch me only as reflected 
 from the hearts of others the hearts into which 
 I look as into a mirror. How should I understand 
 what I see in such a mirror, if I had not myself 
 once known these things that make storm in man's 
 life? I have loved, Paul." 
 
 " How much? " I asked. 
 
 " Enough," said he, " to lose her for her own 
 good. I was a poor student with no prospects. 
 She was beautiful and good, and her duty to her 
 family required that she should marry as they 
 wished. I had no right to her. I could not have 
 her. For her love I vowed to live single and I 
 have come to know that the love of a woman is 
 but one small part of life." 
 
 " Plainly," said I, watching him with interest, 
 " there was no resistless compulsion in that love. 
 But you are right; of most lives love is but an 
 accident, the plaything of propinquity. It dimly 
 feels its insignificance in the face of serious affairs, 
 and gives place, as it should. But there is a love 
 which is different. Few, indeed, are they who are 
 born to endure the light of its uncovered face ; but 
 all have heard the dim tradition of it. I cannot 
 make you understand it, father, any more than I
 
 84 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 could teach a blind man the wonder of that 
 radiating blue up there. That old half-knowl- 
 edge of yours has sealed your eyes more closely 
 than if you had never known at all. I can only 
 tell you there is a love to which life and death 
 must serve as lackeys." 
 
 As he listened, first astonishment marked his 
 face ; for never before had I spoken to him save 
 as a boy to his trusted master. Then indignation 
 struggled with solicitude. Then he seemed to 
 remember that I was not a boy, but a man well 
 hardened in the school of stern experience. 
 Therefore he seemed to decide that I must be 
 treated with mild banter. He lay back in his 
 chair, folded his well-kept hands on his ample 
 stomach, and chuckled indulgently before replying. 
 
 " The fever is upon you, Paul," said he. " Poet 
 and peasant alike must have it. In this form it is 
 not often more dangerous or more lasting than 
 measles ; but unlike measles, alas, one attack 
 grants no immunity from another ! " 
 
 I loved him well, and his jibes stung me not at 
 all. I fell comfortably into his mood. 
 
 " A frontier fighter must be his own physician," 
 I said lightly. " You shall see how I will medicine 
 this fever." 
 
 " I will trust Yvonne de Lamourie's plighted 
 word," he said gravely, after a pause of some mo- 
 ments. Then a wave of strong feeling went over
 
 Father Fafard 85 
 
 his face, and he broke out with a passion in his 
 voice : 
 
 " Paul, do not misjudge me. I love you as my 
 own son, and there is no one else in the world 
 whom I love as I love Yvonne de Lamourie. Not 
 her own father can love her as I do, a lonely old 
 man to whom her face is more than sunshine. Do 
 I not desire with all my heart that you should 
 have her you whom I trust, you whom I know to 
 be a true son of the church? But as I must tell 
 you again, though it grieves me to say it, you 
 have come too late. The Englishman's faithful 
 and unselfish devotion has won her promise. She 
 will keep it, and she will bring him into the 
 church. Moreover, she owes him more than she 
 can ever repay. Giles de Lamourie has long been 
 under the suspicion of the English government, 
 who accused him, unjustly, of having had a hand 
 in the massacre of the New Englanders here. His 
 estates were on the very verge of confiscation ; 
 but Anderson saved him and made him secure. 
 That there is some dreadful fate even now hanging 
 over this fair land I feel assured. What it may 
 be I dare not guess ; but in the hour of ruin 
 George Anderson will see that the house of De 
 Lamourie stands unscathed. For, Paul, I know 
 that Heaven is with the English in this quarrel. 
 Our iniquity in high places has not escaped un- 
 seen."
 
 86 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Grul's prophecy touches even you," I re- 
 marked, rising. " But I must go, father. I have 
 errands across the dyke, for my uncle ; and 1 
 would be back for the night, if possible, to ease 
 the fears of Monsieur de Lamourie. And as for 
 her be assured I will use none but fair means in 
 the great venture of my life." 
 
 " I am assured of it, Paul," said he, grasping 
 my outstretched hand with all affection. " And I 
 am assured, too, that you will utterly and irreme- 
 diably fail. Therefore I am the less troubled, 
 my dear boy, though my heart is sore enough for 
 you." 
 
 " I can but thank God," I retorted cheerfully, 
 retreating down the path between the lilacs, " that 
 the offices of priest and prophet do sometimes 
 exist apart." 
 
 As I looked back at him, before turning down 
 the lane, his kind, round, ruddy face was puckered 
 solicitously over a problem which grew but the 
 harder as he pondered it.
 
 Chapter XII 
 Le Furet at the Ferry 
 
 FROM the cure's I cut across the fields to escape 
 further delay, and so, avoiding the westerly 
 skirts of the village, came out upon the Canard 
 trail. I made the utmost haste, for the after- 
 noon was already on the wane. For some 
 three miles beyond the village the road runs 
 through a piece of old woods, mostly of beech, 
 birch, and maple, whose young greenery exhaled 
 a most pleasant smell on the fresh June air. By 
 the wayside grew the flowers of later spring, 
 purple wake-robins, the pink and white wild 
 honeysuckle, the solitary painted triangle of the 
 trillium, and the tender pink bells of the linnaea, 
 revealed by their perfume. Once I frightened a 
 scurrying covey of young partridges. As for the 
 squirrels, chipmunks, and rabbits, so pert were 
 they in their fearless curiosity that I was ready to 
 pretend they were the same as those which of old 
 in my boyish vagabondings I had taught to be 
 unafraid of my approach. With the one half of 
 
 87
 
 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 my soul I was a boy again, retraversing these 
 dear familiar woods ; the other half of me, mean- 
 while, was bowed with a presentiment of disaster. 
 The confidence in the priest's tone still thrilled 
 me with fear. But under whatever alternations 
 of hope and despair, deep down in my heart where 
 the great resolves take form deliberately my pur- 
 pose settled into the shape which does Hot change. 
 By the time I emerged from the wood I was ready 
 to laugh at Father Fafard or anyone else who should 
 tell me that success would not be mine at the last. 
 
 " She may not know it yet herself, but she is 
 mine," I declared to the open marshes, as I set 
 foot out upon the raised way which led over to 
 the Habitants Ferry. 
 
 The ferry-boat which crosses the deep and tur- 
 bid tide of the Habitants is a clumsy scow pro- 
 pelled by a single oar thrust out from the stern. 
 The river is hardly passable save for an hour on 
 either side of full flood. The rest of the time it 
 is a shrinking yet ever-turbulent stream which 
 roars along between precipitous banks of red 
 engulfing slime. When I reached the shore of 
 this unstable water it lacked but a few minutes of 
 flood. The scow was just putting off for the 
 opposite shore, with one passenger. I recognized 
 the ferryman, yellow Ba'tiste Chouan, ever a 
 friend to me in the dear old days. I shouted for 
 him to wait.
 
 Le Furet at the Ferry 89 
 
 The scow was already some half score feet from 
 land, but Ba'tiste, seeing the prospect of more 
 silver, stopped and made as if to turn back. At 
 once, however, his passenger interfered, with vehe- 
 ment gestures, and eager speech which I could 
 not hear. Eying him closely, I perceived that it 
 was none other than that ruffian of Vaurin's 
 whom I had so incontinently discomfited at the 
 forge. His haste I could now well understand, 
 and I saw him urging it with such effective silvern 
 argument that Ba'tiste began to yield. 
 
 " Ba'tiste," I cried sharply, " don't you know 
 me? Take a good look at me; my haste is 
 urgent." 
 
 My voice caught him. " Tiens! It's Master 
 Paul," he cried, and straightway thrust back to 
 shore, calmly ignoring threats and bribes alike. 
 
 As I sprang aboard and grasped Ba'tiste's gaunt 
 claw I expected nothing less than a second bout 
 with my adversary of the morning. But he, while 
 I talked with the ferryman of this and that, accord- 
 ing to the wont of old acquaintances long apart, 
 kept a discreet silence at the other end of the 
 scow, where, as I casually noted, he stood with 
 folded arms looking out over the water. A scarlet 
 feather stuck foppishly in his dark cap became 
 him very well ; and I could not but account him 
 a proper figure of a man, though somewhat short. 
 
 Presently, at a pause in our talk, he turned and
 
 90 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 approached us. To my astonishment he wore a 
 civil smile. 
 
 " I was in the wrong this morning, Monsieur 
 Grande," he said, in a hearty, frank voice such as 
 I like, though well I know it is no certificate of an 
 honest heart. " I interfered in a gentleman's 
 private business ; and though your rebuke was 
 something more sharp than I could have wished, 
 I deserved it. Allow me to make my apologies." 
 
 Now it is one of my weaknesses that I can 
 scarce resist the devil himself if he speaks me 
 fair and seeks to make amends. 
 
 "Well," said I reluctantly, "we will forget the 
 incident, monsieur, if it please you. I cannot but 
 honour a brave man always ; and you could not but 
 speak up for your captain, he not being by to 
 speak for himself. My opinion of him I will keep 
 behind my teeth out of deference to your pres- 
 ence." 
 
 " That's fair, monsieur," said he, apparently 
 quite content. " And I will keep my nose out of 
 another gentleman's business. My way lies to 
 Canard. May I hope for the honour of your com- 
 pany on the road since fate, however rudely, 
 has thrown us together?" 
 
 Another weakness of mine is to be uselessly 
 frank to resent even politic concealment. Here 
 was one whom I knew for an enemy. I spoke 
 him the plain truth with a childish carelessness.
 
 " I have affairs both at Canard and at Pereau," 
 said I. " But I know not if I shall get so far as 
 the latter to-night." 
 
 " Ah ! " said he, " I might have known as much. 
 Father La Game will lie at Pereau to-night, and I 
 am to meet Captain Vaurin there." 
 
 I turned upon him fiercely, but his face was so 
 devoid of malice that my resentment somehow 
 stuck in my throat. Seeing it in my face, how- 
 ever, he made haste to apologize. 
 
 " Pardon me, monsieur, if I imply too much, or 
 again trespass upon your private matters," he 
 exclaimed courteously. " But you will surely 
 allow that, in view of your late visit to Piziquid, 
 my mistake is a not unnatural one." 
 
 I was forced to acknowledge the justice of this. 
 
 " But be pleased to remember that it is none 
 the less a mistake," said I with emphasis, " and 
 one that is peculiarly distasteful to me." 
 
 " Assuredly, monsieur," he assented most civ- 
 illy. And by this we were at the landing. As 
 we stepped off I turned for a final word with 
 Ba'tiste ; and he, while giving me account of a 
 new road to the Canard, shorter than the old trail, 
 managed to convey a whispered warning that my 
 companion was not to be trusted. 
 
 " It is Le Furet," he said, as if that explained. 
 
 " That's all right, my friend," I laughed confi- 
 dently. " I know all about that."
 
 92 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 Then I turned up the new road, striding amica- 
 bly by the side of my late antagonist, and busily 
 wondering how I was to be rid of him without 
 a rudeness. 
 
 But I might have spared myself this foolish 
 solicitude ; for presently, coming to a little lane 
 which led up to a fair house behind some willows, 
 he remarked : 
 
 " I will call here, monsieur, while you are visit- 
 ing at Machault's yonder ; and will join you, if I 
 may, the other side of the pasture." 
 
 With the word he had bowed himself off, leaving 
 me wondering mightily how he knew I was bound 
 for Simon Machault's as in truth I was, on mat- 
 ters pertaining to my uncle's rents. I was sure 
 I had made no mention of Machault, and I was 
 nettled that the fellow should so appear to divine 
 my affairs. I made up my mind to question him 
 sharply on the matter when he should rejoin me. 
 
 But I was to see no more of him that day. 
 After a pleasant interview with Machault, whence 
 I departed with my pockets the heavier for some 
 rentals paid ungrudgingly to the Sieur de Briart, I 
 continued my way alone, my mind altogether at 
 ease as to the house of De Lamourie, since I had 
 learned that the Black Abbe and the blacker 
 Vaurin would lie that night at Pereau. Then 
 suddenly, as I was about to turn into the yard of 
 another farmhouse, one of those strange things
 
 Le Fftret at the Ferry 93 
 
 happened which we puzzle over for a time and after- 
 ward set down among the unaccountable. Some 
 force, within or without, turned me sharp about 
 and faced me back toward Grand Pre. Before I 
 realized at all what I was up to, I was retracing 
 my steps toward the ferry. But with an effort I 
 stopped to take counsel with myself.
 
 Chapter XIII 
 Unwilling to be Wise 
 
 AT first I was for mocking and laughing down 
 so blind a propulsion, but then the thought 
 that it was in some sort an outward expression of 
 my great desire for Yvonne compelled me to take 
 it with sobriety. Possibly, indeed, it meant that 
 she was thinking of me, needing me even, at the 
 moment; and at this I sprang forward in fierce 
 haste lest I should be too late for the ferry. I 
 was not going to follow blindly an impulse which 
 I could not quite comprehend. I would not be a 
 plaything of whims and vapours. But I would so 
 far yield as to get safely upon the Grand Pre side 
 of the river, pay a visit or two there which I had 
 intended deferring to next day, and return to De 
 Lamourie's about bed-time, too late to invite 
 another rebuff from Yvonne. This compromise 
 gave me peace of mind, but did not delay my 
 pace. I was back at the ferry in a few minutes, 
 in time to see old yellow Ba'tiste fastening up the 
 scow as a sign that ferrying was over till next tide. 
 
 94
 
 Unwilling to be Wise 95 
 
 I rushed down to him with a vehemence which 
 left no need of words. Dashing through the water- 
 side strip of red and glistening mud I sprang 
 upon the scow, and cried : 
 
 " If ever you loved me, Ba'tiste, if ever you 
 loved my father before me, one more trip! I 
 must be in Grand Pre to-night if I have to 
 swim ! " 
 
 His lean, yellow, weather-tanned face wrinkled 
 shrewdly, and he cast off again without a moment's 
 hesitation, saying heartily as he did so : 
 
 " If it only depended on what / could do for 
 you, Master Paul, your will and your way would 
 right soon meet." 
 
 " I always knew I could count on you, Ba'tiste," 
 said I warmly, watching with satisfaction the 
 tawny breadth of water widen out between the 
 shore and the rear of the scow, as the ferryman 
 strained rhythmically upon the great oar. I 
 sniffed deep breaths of the cool, contenting air 
 which blew with a salty bitterness from the uncov- 
 ering flats ; and I dimly imagined then what now 
 I know, that when the breath of the tide flats has 
 got into one's veins at birth he must make fre- 
 quent return to them in after-life, or his strength 
 will languish. 
 
 " So you got wind, Master Paul, of Le Furet's 
 return, and thought well to keep on his track, 
 eh?" panted Ba'tiste.
 
 96 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 "What do you mean?" I asked, awakened 
 from my reverie. 
 
 " Didn't you know he came right back, as soon 
 as he give you the slip?" asked Ba'tiste. "I 
 ferried him over again not an hour gone." 
 
 " Why," I cried in surprise, " I thought he was 
 on his way to the Black Abbe ! " 
 
 Ba'tiste smiled wisely. 
 
 " He lied ! " said he. " You don't know that 
 lot yet, Master Paul. I saw you listened careless- 
 like, but I thought you knew that was all lies about 
 the Black Abbe and Vaurin being at Pereau. If 
 they'd been at Pereau ' The Ferret ' would ha' 
 said they were at Piziquid." 
 
 " I'm an ass ! " I exclaimed bitterly. 
 
 Ba'tiste laughed. 
 
 "That's not the name you get hereabouts, 
 Master Paul. But I reckon you've been used to 
 dealing with honest men." 
 
 " I believe I do trust too easily, my friend," said 
 I. " But one thing I know, and that is this : I 
 will make never a mistake in trusting you, and 
 some other faithful friends whom I might name." 
 
 This seemed to Ba'tiste too obvious to need 
 reply, so he merely wished me good fortune as I 
 sprang ashore and made haste up the trail. 
 
 I made haste but alas, not back toward Grand 
 Pre ! In the bitter after-days I had leisure to 
 curse the obstinate folly which led me to carry
 
 Unwilling to be Wise 97 
 
 out my plan of delay instead of hurrying straight 
 to Yvonne's side. But I had made up my mind 
 that the best time to return to De Lamourie's was 
 about the end of evening and my dull wits 
 failed to see in Le Furet's action any sufficient 
 cause to change my plans. It never occurred to 
 me, conceited fool that I was, that the causes 
 which had swayed the Black Abbe to my will the 
 night before might in the meantime have ceased 
 to work. Even had this idea succeeded in pene- 
 trating my thick apprehension, I suppose it would 
 have made no difference. I should have felt sure 
 that the abbe's scoundrel crew would choose none 
 but the dim hours after midnight for anything 
 their malice might intend. The fact is, I had been 
 yielding to inauthoritative impulses and vague 
 premonitions till the reaction had set in, deter- 
 mining me to be at all costs coolly reasonable. 
 Now Fortune with her fine irony loves to empha- 
 size the fact that the slave of reason often proves 
 the most pitiable of fools. Such was I when I 
 turned to my right from the ferry, and strode 
 through the scented, leafy dusk to the open flax- 
 fields of the Le Marchand settlement, though the 
 disregarded monitor within me was urging that I 
 should turn to the left, through the old beech 
 woods, to Grand Pre and Yvonne. 
 
 The Le Marchand settlement in those days con- 
 sisted of six little farms, each with its strip of
 
 98 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 upland flax-field and apple-orchard, and a bit of 
 rich, secluded dyke held in common. All the Le 
 Marchands father and five sons still owned 
 their hereditary allegiance to the Sieur de Briart, 
 and paid him their little rents as occasion offered. 
 My welcome was not such as is commonly accorded 
 to the tax-gatherer. These retainers of my uncle's 
 made me feel that I was myself their seigneur ; and 
 their rents, paid voluntarily and upon their own 
 reckonings, were in effect a love-gift. I supped 
 chiefly upon buckwheat cakes at the cottage of 
 Le Marchand pere, and then, dark having fallen 
 softly upon the quiet fields, I set out at a gentle 
 pace for Grand Pre" village. 
 
 Soon after I got into the still dark of the woods 
 the moon rose clear of the Gaspereau hills, and 
 thrust long white fingers toward me through the 
 leafage. The silence and the pale, elusive lights 
 presently got a grip upon my mood, and my 
 anxieties doubled, and trebled, and crowded upon 
 each other, till I found myself walking at a breath- 
 less pace, just the hither side of a run. I stopped 
 short, with a laugh of vexation, and forced myself 
 to go moderately. 
 
 I was perhaps half way to Grand Pre, and in the 
 deepest gloom of the woods, a little dip where 
 scarce a moonbeam came, when, with a sudden- 
 ness that gave even my seasoned nerves a start, a 
 tall figure stood noiselessly before me.
 
 Unwilling to be Wise 99 
 
 I clapped my hand upon my sword and asked 
 angrily: 
 
 "Who are you? " 
 
 But even as I spoke I knew the apparition for 
 Grul. I laughed, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Pardon me, Mysterious One. And pray tell me 
 why you are come, for I am in some haste ! " 
 
 "Haste?" he reechoed, with biting scorn. 
 "Where was your haste two hours ago? Fool, 
 poor fool, staying to fill your belly and wag your 
 chin with the clod-hoppers ! You are even now 
 too late." 
 
 " Too late for what? " I asked blankly, shaken 
 with a nameless fear. 
 
 " Come and see ! " was the curt answer ; and he 
 led the way forward to a little knoll, whence, the 
 trees having fallen apart, could be had a view of 
 Grand Pre. 
 
 There was a red light wavering at the back of 
 the village, and against it the gables stood out 
 blackly. 
 
 " I think you promised to guard that house ! " 
 said Grul. 
 
 But I had no answer. With a cry of rage and 
 horror I was away, running at the top of my speed. 
 The Abbe's stroke had fallen; and I with a 
 sickness that clutched my heart saw that my 
 absence might well be set down to treachery.
 
 Chapter XIV 
 Love Me, Love my Dog 
 
 AS I emerged from the woods I noted that the 
 glare was greater than before. But before 
 I reached the outskirts of the village it had 
 begun to die down. My wild running up the 
 main street attracted no attention every one 
 able to be about was at the fire. 
 
 I have no doubt that I was not long in covering 
 those two miles from the western end of the 
 village to the De Lamourie farm but to me they 
 seemed leagues of torment. At last I reached the 
 gate, and dashed panting up the lane. 
 
 I saw that the house was already in ruins, though 
 still burning with a fierce glow. I saw also, and 
 wondered at it, that there had been no attempt 
 made to quench the flames. There were no water 
 buckets in view ; there was no confusion of house- 
 hold goods as when willing hands throng to help ; 
 and the out-buildings, which might easily have 
 been saved, were only now getting fairly into 
 blaze. Across my confusion and pain there flashed
 
 Love Me, Love my Dog 101 
 
 a sense of the Black Abbe's power. This fire was 
 his doing and none dared interfere to mitigate 
 the stroke lest the like should fall upon them also. 
 My eyes searched the mass of staring, redly lit faces, 
 expecting to find some one of the De Lamourie 
 household ; but in vain. Presently I noticed that 
 every one made way for me with an alacrity too 
 prompt for mere respect ; and I grew dully con- 
 scious that I was an object of shrinking aversion 
 to my old fellow-villagers. My rage at the villain 
 priest began to turn upon these misjudging fools. 
 But I knew not what to say ; I knew not what to do. 
 I pushed roughly hither and thither, demanding 
 information, but getting only vague and muttered 
 replies. 
 
 "Where are they? " I asked again and again, 
 and broke out cursing furiously; but every one I 
 spoke to evaded a direct answer. 
 
 " Have that arch fiend and his red devils carried 
 them off?" I asked at last; and to this I got 
 hushed, astonished, terrified replies of 
 
 " No, monsieur ! " and, " No indeed, monsieur ! 
 They have escaped ! " and, " Oh, but no, mon- 
 sieur ! " 
 
 Flinging myself fiercely away from the crowd, I 
 rushed to look into a detached two-story out- 
 building which had but now got fairly burning. I 
 wondered if there were no stuff in it which I might 
 rescue. The smoke and flame were pouring so
 
 IO2 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 hotly from the door that I could not see what was 
 inside. But as I peered in, my face shaded with 
 my hand from the scorching glare, I heard a faint, 
 pitiful mewing just above me, and looked up. 
 
 There, on the sill of a window of the second story, 
 .a window from which came volumes of smoke, but 
 of flame only a slender, darting tongue, crouched 
 a white kitten. With a curious gripping at my 
 heart I recognized it as one which I had seen play- 
 ing at Yvonne's feet the evening before. I remem- 
 bered how it was forever pouncing with wild glee 
 upon the tip of her little slipper, forever being 
 gently rolled over and tickled into fresh ecstasies. 
 The scene cut itself upon my brain as I ran for a 
 yet undamaged ladder, which I noticed leaning 
 against a shed near by. 
 
 The action doubtless filled the crowd with 
 amazement, but no one raised a hand to help 
 me. The ladder was long and very awkward to 
 manage, but in little more than the time it takes 
 to tell of it I got it up beside the window and 
 sprang to the rescue. By this time, however, the 
 flames were spouting forth. The moment I came 
 within reach of it the little animal leapt upon me 
 and clung with frantic claws. A vivid sheet of 
 flame burst out in my very face, hurling me from 
 the ladder ; yet I succeeded in alighting on my 
 feet, jarred, but whole. There was a smell of 
 burnt hair in my nostrils, and I saw that the
 
 Love Me, Love my Dog 103 
 
 kitten's coat, no longer white, was finely crisped. 
 But what I smelt was not all kitten's hair. Lifting 
 my hand to my bitterly smarting face, I found my 
 own locks, over my forehead, seriously diminished, 
 while my once fairly abundant eyebrows and eye- 
 lashes were clean gone. My moustache, however, 
 had escaped and even at that moment, when my 
 mind was surely well occupied with matters of 
 importance, I could feel a thrill of satisfaction. A 
 man's vanity is liable to assert itself at almost any 
 crisis ; and it did not occur to me that a man 
 lacking eyebrows and eyelashes could not hope 
 to be redeemed from the ridiculous by the most 
 luxuriant moustache that ever grew. 
 
 Half dazed, I stared about me, wondering what 
 was next to be done. Suddenly I thought 
 " Why, of course ; they have gone to Father 
 Fafard's ! " 
 
 The kitten clung to me, mewing piteously, and 
 I was embarrassed by it. First I dropped it into 
 a large currant bush, where, as I thought, it would 
 not be trodden upon. Then, remembering that it 
 was Yvonne's, I snatched it up, and with a grim 
 laugh at the folly of my solicitude over so small a 
 matter strode off with it toward the parsonage. I 
 passed in front of the swaying crowd ; and some 
 one, out of sight, tittered. I had begun to forget 
 the fool rabble of villagers, to regard them as a 
 painted mob in a picture, or as wooden puppets,
 
 104 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 but their reality was borne back upon me at that 
 giggle. I walked on, scowling upon the faces 
 which shrank into gravity under my eye, till at 
 last I noticed a kind-looking girl. Into her arms, 
 without ceremony, I thrust the little animal ; and 
 as she took it I said : 
 
 " It belongs to Mademoiselle de Lamourie. 
 Take care of it for her." 
 
 Not waiting to hear her answer, I was off across 
 the fields for the parsonage.
 
 A 
 
 Chapter XV 
 Ashes as it were Bread 
 
 LL this had come and gone as it were in a 
 dream, and it seemed to me that I yet 
 panted from my long race. I had seen nothing, 
 meanwhile, of the Black Abbe or of his painted 
 pack. Spies, however, he had doubtless in plenty 
 among those gaping onlookers ; and his devilish 
 work yet lighted me effectually on my way across 
 the wet fields. The glow was like great patches 
 of blood upon the apple-trees, where the masses 
 of bloom fairly fronted the light. The hedge- 
 row thickets took on a ruddy bronze, a spar- 
 kle here and there as a wet leaf set the un- 
 wonted rays rebounding. The shadows were 
 sharply black, and strangely misleading when they 
 found themselves at odds with those cast by the 
 moon. The scene, as I hastened over the quiet 
 back lots, was like the unreal phantasmagoria of a 
 dream. I found myself playing with the idea 
 that it all was a dream, from my meeting with old 
 Mother Pche here yes, in this very field the
 
 io6 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 night before to the present breathless haste and 
 wild surmising. Then the whole bitter reality 
 seemed to topple over, and fall upon me and crush 
 me down. Not only was Yvonne pledged to 
 another, but through grossest over-confidence I 
 had failed her in her need, and worst of all, the 
 thought that made my heart beat shakingly, she 
 believed me a traitor. It forced a groan to my 
 lips, but I ran on, and presently emerged upon 
 the lane a few paces from Father Fafard's gate. 
 
 As I turned in the good priest came and stood 
 in the doorway, peering down the lane with anx- 
 ious eyes. Seeing me, he sprang forward and 
 began to speak, but I interrupted him, crying: 
 
 " Are they here? I must see them." 
 
 " They will not see you, Paul. They would 
 curse you and shut their ears. They believe you 
 did it." 
 
 " But you, father, you" I pleaded, " can un- 
 deceive them. Come with me." And I grasped 
 him vehemently by the arm. 
 
 But he shook me off, with a sort of anxious 
 impatience. 
 
 " Of course, Paul, I know you did not do it. 
 I know you, as she would, too, if she loved you," 
 he cried, in a voice made high and thin by excite- 
 ment. " I will tell them you are true. But 
 where is Yvonne?" And he pushed past me to 
 the gate, where he paused irresolutely.
 
 Ashes as it were Bread 107 
 
 "Don't tell me she is not with you ! " I cried. 
 
 " She ran out a minute ago, not telling us what 
 she was going to do," he answered. 
 
 "But what for? What made her? She must 
 have had some reason! What was it?" I de- 
 manded, becoming cold and stern as I noted how 
 his nerves were shaken. 
 
 He collected himself with a visible effort, and then 
 looked at me with a kind of slow pity. 
 
 " I had but now come in," said he, " and thought- 
 lessly I told Madame a word just caught in the 
 crowd. You know that evil savage, Etienne le 
 Batard. Or you don't, I see ; but he's the red right- 
 hand of La Game, and it was he executed yonder 
 outrage. As he was leading his cut-throats away 
 in haste, plainly upon another malignant enterprise, 
 I heard him tell one of my parishioners what he 
 would do. The man is suspected of a leaning to 
 the English; and the savage said to him with 
 significance : 
 
 " ' I go now to Kenneticook, to the yellow-haired 
 English Anderson. Neither he nor his house will 
 see another sun.' 
 
 " I had thought perhaps you were right, Paul, 
 and that Yvonne had promised herself to the 
 Englishman more in esteem than love ; but she 
 cried out, with a piteous, shaken voice, that he 
 must be warned that some one must go to him 
 and save him. With that she rushed from the
 
 io8 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 house, and we have not seen her since. But stay 
 what have you said or done to her, Paul? Now 
 that I see her face again, I see remorse in it. What 
 have you done to her? " 
 
 I made no answer to this sharp question, it 
 being irrelevant and my haste urgent. But I 
 demanded : 
 
 " Where could she go for help? " 
 
 " I don't know," he answered, " unless, perhaps, 
 to the landing." 
 
 "The tide is pretty low," said I, pondering, 
 " but the wind serves well enough for the Piziquid 
 mouth. Where do you suppose the savages left 
 their canoes? " 
 
 " Oh," said he positively, " well up on the 
 Piziquid shore, without doubt. They came over 
 on the upper trail, and they must be now hurrying 
 back the same way. They cannot get up the Ken- 
 neticook, by that route, till a little before dawn." 
 
 " I have time, then ! " I exclaimed, and rushed 
 away. 
 
 "Where are you going? Paul! Paul! What 
 will you do?" he cried after me. 
 
 "I will save him ! " I shouted as I went. " Come 
 you down to the landing, the Gaspereau wharf, 
 and get Yvonne if she's there." 
 
 Glancing back, I saw that he followed me. 
 
 My heart was surging with gratitude to God for 
 this chance. I vowed to save Anderson, though it
 
 Ashes as it were Bread 109 
 
 cost me my own life. If Yvonne loved him she 
 should then owe her happiness to me. If she did 
 not love him she would see that I was quite other 
 than the traitor she imagined. Strange to say, I 
 felt no bitterness against her for so misjudging me. 
 It seemed to me that my folly had been so great 
 that I had deserved to be misjudged. But now, 
 here was my opportunity. I swore under my 
 breath that it should not slip from my grasp. 
 
 It was a good two-thirds of a mile from the 
 parsonage to the wharf, and I had time to scheme 
 as I ran. I thought at once of Nicole, the smith, 
 of his boat, and his brawn, and his loyal 
 fidelity. His boat would assuredly be at the 
 wharf, but where should I find his brawn and 
 his fidelity? 
 
 At his cottage, beside the forge, I stopped to 
 ask for him. 
 
 " At the fire, monsieur," quavered his old 
 mother, poking a troubled face from the window 
 in answer to my thundering on the door. " What 
 would you with him? Do not lead him into harm, 
 Master Paul ! " 
 
 But I was off without answering ; and the poor, 
 creaking, worried old voice followed in my ears : 
 
 " He takes no sides. He hurts no one, Master 
 Paul ! " 
 
 Passing the De Lamourie gate I paused to shout 
 at the height of my lungs :
 
 no A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Nicole ! Nicole Brun ! I want you ! Nicole ! 
 Nicole ! " 
 
 " Coming, Master Paul ! " was the prompt 
 reply, out of the heart of the crowd ; and in a 
 moment the active, thick-set form appeared, bare- 
 headed as usual, for I had never known Nicole to 
 cover his black shock with cap or hat. 
 
 I was leaning on the fence to get my breath. 
 
 " You were there, Nicole, when I was looking 
 for a friend ? " said I, eying him with sharp 
 question and reproach as he came up. 
 
 " You did not seem to need any one just then, 
 Master Paul ; leastwise, no one that was there- 
 abouts," he answered, with a sheepish mixture of 
 bantering and apology. 
 
 I ignored both. I knew him to be true. 
 
 " Will you come with me, right now, Nicole 
 Brun ? " I asked, starting off again toward the 
 river. 
 
 " You know I will, Master Paul," said he, close 
 at my side. " But where? What are we up to? " 
 
 " The boat ! " said I. " The wind serves. I'm 
 going to the Kenneticook to warn Anderson that 
 the Black Abbe is to cut his throat this night ! " 
 
 I turned and looked him in the eyes as I spoke. 
 
 His long, determined upper lip drew down at 
 my words, but his little grey eyes flashed upon 
 mine a half-resigned, half-humorous acquiescence. 
 
 " It's risky, Master Paul. And no good, like as
 
 Ashes as it were Bread 1 1 1 
 
 not," he answered. " We'll be just about in time 
 to get our own throats slit, I'm thinking, to say 
 nothing of the hair," he added, rubbing his crown 
 with rueful apprehension. 
 
 " Let me have your boat, and I go alone," said 
 I curtly. But I was sure of him nevertheless. 
 
 " I'm with you, sure, Master Paul, if you will 
 go," he rejoined. " And maybe it's worth while 
 to disturb his reverence's plans, if it be only an 
 Englishman that we're taking so much trouble 
 about." 
 
 " We must and shall save him, Nicole," I said, 
 as deliberately as my panting breath would permit, 
 " or I will die in the trying. He is betrothed to 
 Mademoiselle de Lamourie, you know." 
 
 " / should say, rather, let him die for her, that a 
 better man may live for her," he retorted shrewdly. 
 " But as you will, Master Paul, of course ! " 
 
 In the privacy of my own heart I thought 
 extremely well of Nicole's discrimination ; but I 
 said nothing, for by this we were come to the 
 wharf; and I saw Yvonne!
 
 Chapter XVI 
 The Way of a Maid 
 
 ALMOST to her side I came before she was 
 aware of me, so intent she was upon her 
 purpose. Two men of the village, fishermen whom 
 I knew, she had summoned to her, and was passion- 
 ately urging them to take her to Kenneticook. 
 But for all her beauty, her enthralling charm, they 
 hung back doggedly being but dull clods, and 
 in a shaking terror at the very name of the Black 
 Abbe. It passed my comprehension that they 
 should have any power at all when those wonder- 
 ful eyes burned upon them. Never had I seen her 
 so beautiful as then, her face wild with entreaty, 
 her bewildering hair half fallen about her shoulders. 
 A white, soft-falling shawl, such as I had never be- 
 fore seen her wear, was flung about her, and one 
 little hand with its live, restless fingers clutched 
 the fabric closely to her throat, as if she had been 
 disturbed at her toilet. 
 
 I was about to interrupt her, for there was no 
 moment to lose if I would accomplish my purpose ;
 
 The Way of a Maid 113 
 
 but of a sudden she seemed to realize the hope- 
 lessness of her effort to move these stolid fish- 
 ermen. Flinging out her arms with a gesture 
 of bitterness and despair, she cried, pointing to 
 Nicole's boat : 
 
 " Push off the boat, you cowards, and I will go 
 alone ! " 
 
 And turning upon the word she found herself 
 face to face with me. 
 
 Even in that light I could see her lips go ashen, 
 and for a moment I thought she would drop. I 
 sprang to catch her, but she recovered, and shrank 
 in a kind of speechless fury from my touch. Then 
 she found words for me, dreadful words for me to 
 hear : 
 
 " Traitor ! Assassin ! Still you to persecute 
 and thwart me. It is you they fear. It is you who 
 plan the murder of that good and true man you 
 who will not let me go to warn him ! " Then her 
 voice broke into a wilder, more beseeching tone : 
 " Oh, if you have one spark of shame, remember! 
 Let them push off the boat ; and let me go, that I 
 may try to save him ! " 
 
 Her reproaches hurt me not, but what seemed 
 her passion for him steadied me and made me 
 hard. 
 
 " You are mad, mademoiselle ! " I answered 
 sternly. " I am going to save him." 
 
 " As you have saved our house to-night ! " she
 
 114 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 cried, with a laugh that went through me like a 
 sword. 
 
 " I was outwitted by my enemies and yours, 
 mademoiselle. I go now to warn him. Pushdown 
 the boat, men. Haste ! Haste ! " I ordered, 
 turning from her. 
 
 But she came close in front of me, her great eyes 
 blazed up in my face, and she cried, " You go to 
 see that he does not escape your hate ! " 
 
 " Listen, mademoiselle," I said sharply. " I 
 swear to you by the mother of God that you have 
 utterly misjudged me ! I am no traitor. I have 
 been a fool; or my sword would have been at 
 your father's side to-night. I swear to you that I 
 go now to expiate my mistake by saving your lover 
 for you. " 
 
 The first wave of doubt as to my treason came 
 into her eyes at this ; but her lips curled in bitter 
 unbelief. Before she could speak, I went on : 
 
 " I swear to you by by the soul of my dead 
 mother I will save George Anderson or die fighting 
 beside him ! You shall have your lover," I 
 added, as I stepped toward the boat, which was 
 now fairly afloat on the swirling current. Nicole 
 was hoisting the sail, while one of the fishermen 
 held the boat's prow. 
 
 I think Yvonne's heart believed me now, though 
 her excited brain was as yet but partially con- 
 vinced, or even, perhaps, as I have sometimes
 
 The Way of a Maid 115 
 
 dared to think in the light of her later actions, 
 another motive, quite unrealized by herself, began 
 to work obscurely at the roots of her being as soon 
 as she had admitted the first doubts as to my 
 treachery. But not even her own self-searching 
 can unravel all the intricacies of a woman's motive. 
 As I was about to step into the boat she passed 
 me lightly as a flower which the wind lifts and 
 blows. She seated herself beside the mast. 
 
 " What folly is this, mademoiselle?" I asked 
 angrily, pausing with my hand upon the gunwale, 
 and noticing the astonishment on Nicole's face. 
 
 Her mouth set itself obstinately as her eyes met 
 mine. 
 
 " I am going, too," she said, " to see if you 
 respect your mother's soul." 
 
 "You cannot!" I cried. "You will ruin our 
 only chance. We must run miles through the 
 woods after we land, if we are to get there ahead of 
 La Game's butchers. You could not stay alone at 
 the boat " 
 
 " I can ! " said she doggedly. 
 
 " You could not keep up with us," I went on, 
 unheeding her interruption. " And if we delayed 
 for you we should be too late. Every moment you 
 stay us now may be the one to cost his life." 
 
 " I am going ! " was all she said. 
 
 I set my teeth into my lips. There was no alter- 
 native. Stepping quietly into the boat as if forced
 
 n6 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 to acquiesce in her decision, with my left hand I 
 caught both little white wrists as they lay crossed, 
 still for a moment, in her lap. I held them inex- 
 orably. At the same time I passed my right arm 
 about the slim body, and lifted it. There was but 
 the flutter of an instant's struggle, its futility in- 
 stantly recognized ; and then, stepping over the 
 boatside with her, I carried her to the edge of 
 the wharf, set her softly down, sprang back into 
 the boat, and pushed off as I did so. 
 
 " I will save him for you, mademoiselle," I 
 said, " and, believe me, I have just now saved 
 him from you ! " 
 
 But she made no answer. She did not move 
 from the place where I had set her down. There 
 was a strange look on her face, which I could not 
 fathom; but I carried it with me, treasured and 
 uncomprehended, as the boat slipped rapidly down 
 the tide. 
 
 As long as I could discern the wharf at all I 
 could see that white form moveless at its edge. 
 I forgot my errand. I forgot her cruel distrust. I 
 strained my gaze upon her, and knew nothing save 
 that I loved her.
 
 Chapter XVII 
 Memory is a Child 
 
 WHEN I could no longer discern even the 
 shore whence we had started, I in a meas- 
 ure came to myself. Nicole sagacious Nicole 
 had left me to my dream. He had got up the 
 mainsail and jib unaided, and now sat like a statue 
 at the tiller. We were in the open basin, running 
 with a steady wind abeam. There was quite a 
 swell on, and the waves looked sinister, cruel as 
 steel, under the bare white moon. A fading glow 
 still marked the spot where the De Lamourie house 
 had stood ; but save for that there was no hint of 
 man's hand in all the wild, empty, hissing, wonder- 
 ful open. Far to the left lay Blomidon, a crouch- 
 ing lion ; and straight ahead a low, square bluff 
 guarded the mouth of the Piziquid. I saw that we 
 were nearing it rapidly, for Nicole's boat had legs. 
 Once in the Piziquid mouth, we should have a hard 
 run up against the ebb ; but the wind would then 
 be right aft, and I felt that we could stem the cur- 
 rent and make our landing in time. 
 
 117
 
 n8 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Will this wind carry her against the Piziquid 
 tide?" I asked Nicole. It was the first word 
 spoken in perhaps an hour, and my voice sounded 
 strange to me. 
 
 " We'll catch the first of the flood soon after we 
 get inside, Master Paul," said he, in the most mat- 
 ter-of-fact voice in the world. 
 
 Content with this, and knowing that for the time 
 there was nothing to do but wait, I lapsed back 
 into my reverie. 
 
 I felt exhausted, not from bodily effort, but from 
 emotion. My nerves and brain felt sleepy ; yet 
 nothing was further from my eyes than sleep. 
 Situations and deeds, mental and physical crises, 
 agonies and ecstasies and dull despair, had so 
 trodden upon one another's heels that I was 
 breathless. I caught at my brain, as it were, to 
 make it keep still long enough to think. Yet I 
 could not think to any purpose. I was aware of 
 nothing so keenly as the sensation that had intoxi- 
 cated me as I held Yvonne's unconsenting body 
 for those few moments in my arms, while remov- 
 ing her from the boat. To have touched her at 
 all against her will seemed a sacrilege ; but when 
 a sacrilege has seemed a plain necessity I have 
 never been the one to balk at it. Now I found 
 myself looking with a foolish affection at the arms 
 which had been guilty of that sacrilege and 
 straightway, coming to my wits again, I glanced at
 
 Memory is a Child 119 
 
 Nicole to see if he had divined the vast dimen- 
 sions of my folly. 
 
 From this I passed to wondering what was truly 
 now my hope or my despair. During all my talk 
 with Yvonne from the moment, indeed, when 
 Father Fafard had told me of her agitation over 
 Anderson's peril I had been as one without 
 hope, in darkness utterly. Only a great love 
 the great love, as I had told myself could inspire 
 this desperate and daring solicitude. And against 
 the one great love, in such a woman as Yvonne, 
 I well knew that nothing earthly could prevail. 
 My own bold resolution had been formed on the 
 theory that her betrothal was but the offspring of 
 expediency upon respect. Now, however, either 
 the remembrance of her touch deluded me or some- 
 thing in her attitude upon the wharf held signif- 
 icance, for assuredly I began to dream that remorse 
 rather than love might have been the mainspring 
 of her agitation ; remorse, and pity, and some- 
 thing of that strange mother passion which a true 
 woman may feel toward a man who stirs within 
 her none of the lover passion at all. I thought, 
 too, of the wild sense of dishonour she must feel, 
 believing me a traitor and herself my dupe. 
 Strange comfort this, of a surety ! Yet I grasped 
 at it. I would prove her no dupe, myself no 
 traitor ; and stand at last where I had stood before, 
 with perhaps some advantage. And my rival
 
 I2O A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 he, I swore, should owe his life to me ; a kind but 
 cruel kind of revenge. 
 
 At last, my heart beating uncomfortably from 
 the too swift self-chasing of my thoughts, I stood 
 up, shook myself, and looked about me. We 
 had rounded the bluff, and were standing up the 
 broad Piziquid straight before the wind ; and the 
 boat was pitching hotly in the short seas where 
 the wind thwarted the tide. I glanced at Nicole's 
 face. It was as plaintively placid as if he dreamed 
 of the days when he leaned at his mother's knee. 
 
 But the expression of his countenance changed ; 
 for now, from out the shadowed face of the bluff, 
 came that bell-like, boding cry 
 
 " Woe, woe to Acadie the Fair, for the hour of 
 her desolation is at hand ! " 
 
 Nicole looked awed. 
 
 " He knows, that Grul ! " he muttered. " It's 
 coming quick now, I'll be bound ! " 
 
 " Well, so are we, Nicole ! " I rejoined cheer- 
 fully ; " and that's what most concerns me at this 
 moment." 
 
 I peered eagerly ahead, but could not, in that 
 deluding light, discriminate the mouth of the 
 Kenneticook stream from its low adjacent shores. 
 Presently the waves and pitching lessened. The 
 ebb had ceased, and the near shore slipped by 
 more rapidly. The slack of tide lasted but a few 
 minutes. Then the flood set in noisily and
 
 Memory is a Child 121 
 
 with a great front of foam, as it does in that 
 river of high tides ; and the good boat sped on 
 at a pace that augured accomplishment. In what 
 seemed to me but a few minutes the mouth of 
 the Kenneticook opened, whitely glimmering, 
 before us. 
 
 Barely had I descried it when Nicole put the 
 helm up sharp and ran straight in shore. 
 
 "What are you doing, man?" I cried, in aston- 
 ishment. " You'll have us aground ! " 
 
 But the words were not more than out of my 
 mouth when I understood. I saw the narrow 
 entrance to a small creek, emptying between high 
 banks. 
 
 " Oh ! " said I. " I beg your pardon, Nicole ; I 
 see you know what you're about all right ! " 
 
 He chuckled behind unsmiling lips. 
 
 " They'll go up the Kenneticook in their canoes," 
 said he. "We'll hide the boat here, where they'll 
 not find it ; and we'll cut across the ridge to the 
 Englishman's. Quicker, too ! " 
 
 The creek was narrow and winding, but deep 
 for the first two hundred yards of its course; and 
 Nicole, he knew every turn and shallow. We 
 beached the boat where she could not be seen 
 from the river, tied her to a tree on the bank 
 above so that she might not get away at high tide, 
 and then plunged into the dense young fir woods 
 that clothed the lower reaches of the Piziquid
 
 122 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 shore. There was no trail, but it was plain to me 
 that Nicole well knew the way. 
 
 "You've gone this way before, Nicole?" said I. 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, a few times," he answered. 
 
 I considered for a moment, pushing aside the 
 wet, prickly branches as I went. Then 
 
 "What is her name, Nicole? " I asked. 
 
 "Julie, Master Paul," said he softly. 
 
 " Ah," said I, " then you had reasons of your 
 own for coming with me to-night?" 
 
 "Not so ! " he answered, a rebuking sobriety in 
 his voice. "None, save my love for you and 
 your house, Master Paul. She is in no peril. 
 She is far from here, safe in Isle St. Jean this 
 month past." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, my friend," said I, at once. 
 " I know your love. I said it but to banter you, 
 for I had not guessed that you had been led cap- 
 tive, Nicole." 
 
 " A man's way, Master Paul, when a woman 
 wills ! " said he cheerfully. 
 
 But I had no more thought of it than to be glad 
 it had taught Nicole Brun a short path through 
 the woods to Kenneticook. 
 
 What strange tricks do these our tangled make- 
 ups play us ! I know that that night, during that 
 swift half-hour's run through the woods, my whole 
 brain, my every purpose, was concentrated upon 
 the rescue of George Anderson. The price I was
 
 Memory is a Child 123 
 
 prepared to pay was life, no less. Yet all the 
 shaping emotion of it sharp enough, one would 
 think, to cut its lines forever on a man's face, to 
 say nothing of his brain has bequeathed to me 
 no least etching of remembrance. Of great things 
 all I recall is that the name " Yvonne " seemed 
 ever just within my lips so that once or twice I 
 thought I had spoken it aloud. But my senses 
 were very wide awake, taking full advantage, per- 
 haps, of the heart's preoccupation. My eyes, 
 ears, nose, touch, they busied themselves to note 
 a thousand trifles and these are what come 
 back to me now. Such idle, idle things alone 
 remain, out of that race with death. 
 
 Things idle as these : I see a dew-wet fir-top 
 catch the moonlight for an instant and flash to 
 whiteness, an up-thrust lance of silver; I see the 
 shadow of a dead, gnarled branch cast upon a 
 mossy open in startling semblance of a crucifix 
 so clear, I cannot but stoop and touch it reverently 
 as I pass ; I see, at the edge of a grassy glade, a 
 company of tall buttercups, their stems invisible, 
 their petals seeming to float toward me, a 
 squadron of small, light wings. I hear I hear 
 the rush of the tide die out as we push deeper into 
 the woods ; I hear the smooth swish of branches 
 thrust apart; I hear the protesting, unresonant 
 creak of the green underbrush as we tread it 
 down, and the sharp crackle of dry twigs as we
 
 124 A- Sister to Evangeline 
 
 thread the aisles of older forest ; I hear, from the 
 face of a moonlit bluff upon our left, the long, 
 mournful WJibo-hu-hu Hoo-oo of the brown owl. 
 I smell the savour of juniper, of bruised snake- 
 root, of old, slow-rotting wood ; with once a fairy 
 breath of unseen linncea; and once, at the 
 fringed brink of a rivulet, the pungent fragrance 
 of wild mint. I feel the frequent wet slappings of 
 branches on my face ; I feel the strong prickles 
 of the fir, the cool, flat frondage of the spruce and 
 hemlock, the unresisting, feathery spines of the 
 young hackmatack trees ; I feel, once, a gluey web 
 upon my face, and the abhorrence with which I 
 dash off the fat spider that clings to my chin ; I 
 feel the noisome slump of my foot as I tread upon 
 a humped and swollen gathering of toad-stools. 
 
 All this is what comes back to me and Ni- 
 cole's form, ever silent, ever just ahead, wasting no 
 breath ; till at last we came upon a fence, and 
 beyond the fence wide fields, and beyond the 
 fields a low white house with wings and outbuild- 
 ings, at peace in the open moonlight. 
 
 "We are in time, Master Paul!" said Nicole 
 quietly.
 
 Chapter XVIII 
 For a Little Summer's Sleep 
 
 WE vaulted the fence, jumped a well-cut ditch 
 (I took note that Anderson was an excel- 
 lent farmer), and ran across the fields. Presently 
 came a deep, baying bark, and a great, light-col- 
 oured English mastiff came bounding toward us. 
 
 " Quiet, Ban ! " said Nicole ; and the huge 
 beast, with a puppy-whine of delight, fell fawning 
 at his knees. We were close to the house. Nicole 
 stopped, and pointed to a cabin just visible at the 
 foot of a long slope falling away to our right. 
 
 " Julie's brother may chance to be there, Master 
 Paul," said he. " He is known for his devotion 
 to Monsieur Anderson, whom few of us love. I 
 will go wake the lad, if he's there, while you rouse 
 the master." 
 
 " If you should fail to get back this way, my 
 friend," said I, " let us meet, say, at the boat." 
 
 " Yes, at the boat," he answered confidently. 
 
 I paused, partly to get breath, partly to follow 
 him with a look of grateful admiration, the 
 
 125
 
 126 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 modest, still, strong, faithful retainer, of a type 
 nigh vanished. He ran with his black-shock 
 head thrust forward, and the great dog bounded 
 beside him like a kitten. 
 
 It was the last I ever saw of Nicole Brun ; nor 
 to this day, for all my searching, have I had word 
 of what befell him. Of the dog I learned some- 
 thing, seeing his skin, a year later, worn upon the 
 shoulders of an Indian boy of the Micmac settle- 
 ment. From this I could make shrewd guess at 
 the fate of my Nicole ; but the Indian lies astutely, 
 and I could prove nothing. Sleep well, Nicole, 
 my brave and true ! 
 
 George Anderson's wide red door carried a 
 brass knocker which grinned venomously in the 
 moonlight. My first summons brought no 
 answer. Then I thundered again, imperatively, 
 and I heard Anderson's voice within, calling to 
 servants. No servants made reply, so again I 
 hammered, and shook fiercely at the door. Then 
 .'he came himself, looking bewildered. 
 
 " Monsieur Grande, pardon me ! The ser- 
 vants " 
 
 " The servants have fled," I interrupted. " Come 
 quickly ! There is not a minute to lose. The 
 abbe's savages are near. They are coming to 
 scalp you and burn your house. We will leave 
 them the house." 
 
 There was no sign of fear on his face, merely
 
 For a Little Summer's Sleep 127 
 
 annoyance ; and I saw that his mind worked but 
 heavily. 
 
 "Come in! " he said, leading the way into a 
 wide room looking out upon the Kenneticook 
 tide. " I won't be driven by those curs. They 
 dare not touch me. At the worst, with the help 
 of the servants we can fight them off. Sit down, 
 monsieur." 
 
 And he proceeded calmly to pull on his boots. 
 
 I had followed him inside, wild at his obstinacy. 
 
 "I tell you," said I, "they want your scalp. 
 The servants are traitors and have stolen away 
 while you slept. We are alone. Come, man, 
 come! Would you have my throat cut, too?" 
 And I shook him by the shoulder. 
 
 "Why have you come?" he asked, unmoved, 
 staring at me. 
 
 " For the sake of Yvonne de Lamourie ! " 
 
 " Oh ! " said he, eying me with a slow hostil- 
 ity. 
 
 "You fool!" I exclaimed. "They have 
 burned De Lamourie's. I swore to Yvonne de 
 Lamourie that I would save you or die with you. 
 If ypu think she loves you, stir yourself. I cannot 
 carry you. Look at that ! " 
 
 I pointed to the window. At Yvonne's name he 
 had risen to his feet. He looked out. A group 
 of canoes was turning in to shore, not two furlongs 
 distant.
 
 128 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Where is she? " he inquired, alert at last. 
 
 " Safe," said I curtly, " at Father Fafard's." 
 
 Still he wavered, brave, but undecided. I think 
 he wondered why I was her chosen messenger. 
 
 " She is in a frenzy at your peril," I said, though 
 the words stuck in my throat. That moved him. 
 His face lighted with boyish pleasure. 
 
 " Come ! " he cried, as if he had been urging 
 me all the time. " We'll slip out at the back, and 
 keep the buildings between us and the river till 
 we reach the woods." 
 
 "Have you no weapon? " I asked. 
 
 " No," said he, " but this will do," and he 
 picked up a heavy oak stick from behind the door 
 of the room. 
 
 Great as was the haste, I told him to lock 
 the main door. Then as we slipped out at the 
 back we locked the kitchen door behind us. I 
 knew this would delay the chase ; whereas if they 
 found the doors open they would realize at once 
 the escape of their intended victim and rush in 
 pursuit, leaving the little matter of the fire to be 
 seen to afterwards. 
 
 From the back door we darted to the garden, 
 a thicket of pole beans and hops and hollyhocks. 
 From the furthest skirt of these shelters we ran 
 along a ditch that fenced a field of growing buck- 
 wheat, not yet high enough to give covert ; but I 
 think we kept well in shadow of the house all the
 
 For a Little Summer's Sleep 129 
 
 way to the woods. If afterwards our enemies 
 tracked us with what seemed a quite unnecessary 
 promptitude and ease, it must be remembered that 
 our trail was not obscure. 
 
 I led the flight, intending we should strike 
 the creek at some distance above the boat and 
 make our way down to it along the water's 
 edge, to cover our traces. The more we could 
 divide our pursuers, the better would be our 
 chances in the struggle, if overtaken. The pace I 
 set was a sharp one, and soon, as I could perceive 
 by his breathing, began to tell upon my heavy- 
 limbed and unhardened companion. I slackened 
 gradually, that he might not think I did it on his 
 account. 
 
 In a very few minutes there arose behind us, 
 coming thinly through the trees, the screeching 
 war-whoop of the Micmacs, which has ever seemed 
 to me more demoniacal and inhuman than even 
 that of the Iroquois. Then, when we took time 
 to glance over our shoulders, we marked a red 
 glare climbing slowly. I judged that our escape 
 was by this time discovered, and the wolves hot 
 upon our trail. 
 
 To my companion, however, the sight brought 
 a different thought. 
 
 " Where were you," he gasped, " when they at- 
 tacked De Lamourie's? Did you not promise 
 to save the place? "
 
 130 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " I was a fool," said I, between my teeth. " I 
 thought the might of my name had saved it. I 
 went to the Habitants. When I got back it was 
 over." 
 
 " Ah ! " was all he said, husbanding his breath. 
 
 " And they think I am a traitor that I sanc- 
 tioned it," I went on in a bitter voice. 
 
 He gave a short laugh, impatiently. 
 
 "Who? " he asked. 
 
 "Monsieur and Madame," said I, "and, pos- 
 sibly, Mademoiselle also." 
 
 " I could have told them better than that," 
 he panted ; " I know a man." 
 
 Under the circumstances I did not think that 
 rrtodesty required me to disclaim the compliment. 
 
 A little further on he clutched me by the arm, 
 and stopped, gasping. 
 
 " Blown," said he, smiling, as if the situation 
 were quite casual. "Must one minute." 
 
 I chafed, but stood motionless. 
 
 Suddenly there was a heavy crash some distance 
 behind us. 
 
 " They are so sure, they scorn the least precau- 
 tion," I whispered, foolishly wroth at their confi- 
 dence. " But come, though your lungs should 
 burst for it," I went on. " I will seize the first 
 hiding-place." 
 
 He rallied like a man, and we raced on with 
 fresh speed. Indeed, as I look back upon it, I see
 
 For a Little Summer's Sleep 131 
 
 that he did miraculously well for one so unused 
 to the exercise. 
 
 Five minutes later we came to a small brook 
 crossing our path from left to right toward the 
 Kenneticook. It was a place of low, brushy 
 shrubs under large trees. 
 
 " Keep close to me," I whispered, " and look 
 sharp. We'll stop right here." 
 
 I stepped into the middle of the brook, and he 
 did likewise, carefully. Setting our feet with pre- 
 caution to disturb no stones, we descended the 
 stream some twenty paces, then crept ashore 
 beneath the thick growth, and lay at full length 
 like logs. 
 
 " You must get your breathing down to silence 
 absolute," I whispered; "they will be here in two 
 minutes." 
 
 In half a minute he had his laboring lungs in 
 harness. Though within an arm's length of him I 
 could hear no sound. But I could hear our pur- 
 suers thrashing along on our trail. In a minute 
 they were at the brook, to find the trail cut short. 
 I caught snatches of their guttural comment, and 
 laughed in my sleeve as I realized that Anderson's 
 very weakness was going to serve our ends. The 
 savages never dreamed that any one could be 
 winded from so short a run. Had their quarry 
 gone up the brook or down it, was all their wonder. 
 Unable to decide, they split into two parties, going
 
 132 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 either way. From the corner of my eye, violently 
 twisted, I marked seven redskins loping past down 
 stream. 
 
 When they were out of hearing I touched 
 Anderson on the shoulder. 
 
 " Come," said I, " now is our time." 
 
 " That was neat, very," he muttered, with a 
 quiet little chuckle, rising and throwing off the 
 underbrush like an ox climbing out of his August 
 wallow. 
 
 " Straight ahead now for the creek," I whis- 
 pered, crossing the brook ; but a sound from behind 
 made me turn. There stood a huge savage, much 
 astonished at the apparition of us. 
 
 His astonishment was our salvation. It delayed 
 his signal yell. As his breath drew in for it and 
 I sprang with my sword, the Englishman was upon 
 him naked-handed. He forgot his stick ; which 
 indeed was well, for his two hands at the redskin's 
 throat best settled the matter of the signal. For 
 a Quaker, whom I have heard to be peaceful folk, 
 Anderson seemed to me a good deal in earnest. 
 Big and supple though the savage was, he was 
 choked in half a minute and his head knocked 
 against a tree. Anderson let him drop, a limp 
 carcass, upon the underbrush, and stood over him 
 panting and clenching his fingers, ready to try a 
 new hold. 
 
 I examined the painted mass.
 
 "Anderson let him drop upon the underbrush."
 
 For a Little Summer's Sleep 133 
 
 "Not dead, quite! " said I. " But he's as good 
 as dead for an hour, I should say. I think perhaps 
 we need not finish him." 
 
 " Better finish him, and make sure," urged An- 
 derson, to my open astonishment. " He may stir 
 up trouble for us later.'' 
 
 But I was firm. I like, positively like, to kill 
 my man in fair fight ; but once down he's safe 
 from me, though he were the devil himself. 
 
 " No," said I, " you shall not. Come on. If 
 the poor rascal ever gets over that mauling, he'll 
 deserve to. That was neat, now. You are much 
 wasted in Quakerdom, monsieur, when your Eng- 
 lish armies are needing good men." 
 
 He was following close at my heels, as I once 
 more led the race through the woods. He made 
 no answer. Either he was saving his wind, or he 
 was angry at leaving a good job unfinished. I 
 mocked myself in my own heart, thinking: 
 
 " Paul, you fool, out of this big Quaker you 
 have made a fighter, and he seems to like it. You 
 may find your hands full with him, one of these 
 days." 
 
 The thought was pleasant -to me on the whole, 
 for it is ill and dishonouring work to fight a man 
 who is no fair match for you. That was something 
 I never could stomach, and have ever avoided, 
 even though at the cost of deep annoyance. 
 
 Now the ground began to rise, and I guessed
 
 134 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 we were nearing the creek at a point where the 
 banks were high. 
 
 " Nearly there," I whispered encouragingly, and 
 thrust forward with sudden elation through a dense 
 screen of underbrush. I was right all too right. 
 The leafage parted as parts a cloud. There was 
 no ground beneath my feet. 
 
 " Back ! " I hissed wildly, and went plunging 
 down a dark steep, striking, rebounding, clutching 
 now at earth and now at air. At last it ap- 
 peared to me that I came partly to a stop and 
 merely rolled ; but it no longer seemed worth 
 while to grasp at anything.
 
 Chapter XIX 
 The Borderland of Life 
 
 AGAIN I felt myself striving to grasp at some- 
 thing nothing tangible now, but a long 
 series of exhausting, infinitely confused dreams. 
 My brain strove desperately to retain them, but 
 the more it strove the more they slipped back into 
 the darkness of the further side of memory ; and, 
 with one mighty effort to hold on to the last of 
 the vanishing train, I opened my eyes, oppressed 
 with a sense of significant things forgotten. 
 
 My eyes opened, I say ; and they stared widely 
 at a patch of sky, of an untellable blue, sparkling 
 gem-like, and set very far off as if seen through 
 the wrong end of a telescope. As I stared, the 
 sense of oppression slipped from me. I sat up ; 
 but the patch of sky reeled, and I lay back again, 
 whereupon it recovered its adorable stability. I 
 felt tired, but content. It was good to lie there, 
 and watch that enchanted sky, and rest from 
 thought and dreams. 
 
 After a while, however, I turned my head, and 
 US
 
 136 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 noted that I was in a deep, low-vaulted, tunnel- 
 shaped cave or rather bottle-shaped, for it was 
 enlarged about the place where I lay. I noted 
 that I lay on furs, on a low, couch-like ledge ; and 
 I noted, too, that there was a wind outside, for at 
 intervals a branch was bowed across the cave- 
 mouth and withdrawn. Then I perceived that a 
 little jar of water and a broken cake of barley meal 
 stood just within reach; and straightway I was 
 aware of a most interested appetite. I sat up 
 again and began to eat and drink. The patch of 
 sky reeled, danced, blurred, darkened, and again 
 grew clear and steady. I finished the barley 
 bread, finished the little jar of water, and sat 
 communing lucidly with my right mind. 
 
 It was manifest that I had been saved that night 
 of my fall over the cliff (by Anderson? I 
 prayed not) ; that I had been desperately ill 
 for the hands and arms upon which I looked 
 down with sarcastic pity were emaciated ; that 
 I had been tenderly cared for for the couch 
 was soft, the cave well kept, and a rude screen 
 stood at one side to shield me when the winds 
 came into the cave-mouth. I raised my hands to 
 my head. It was bandaged ; and at one side my 
 hair had been much cut away. But my hair 
 how long the rest of it was ! And then came a 
 stroke of wonder my once smooth chin was 
 deeply bearded ! How long, how long must I
 
 The Borderland of Life 137 
 
 have rested here, to grow so patriarchal an adorn- 
 ment ! 
 
 Stung to a fierce restlessness, and with a sinking 
 at my heart, I rose, tottered to the cave-mouth, 
 and looked out. 
 
 The world I had last seen was a green world on 
 the threshold of June. The world I looked on 
 now was a world of fading scarlets, the last fires 
 of autumn fast dying from the ragged leafage. 
 
 Below, beyond trees and a field, was outspread 
 the wide water of Minas, roughened to a cold and 
 angry indigo under the wind. To the left, purple- 
 dim and haze-wrapped, sat Blomidon. Grand Pre 
 must be around to the left. Then the cave was in 
 the face of the Piziquid bluff". So near to friends, 
 yet hidden in a cave ! What had happened the 
 while I lay as dead? I tottered back to the couch, 
 and fell on my back, and thought. My appre- 
 hensions were like a mountain of lead upon the pit 
 of my stomach, and I laboured for my breath. 
 
 First I thought of Nicole as having saved me 
 Anderson I knew would have done his best, but 
 was helpless among an unfriendly people, and well 
 occupied to keep his own scalp. Yet Nicole would 
 have taken me to Father Fafard ! And surely 
 there were houses in Grand Pre where the son of 
 my father would have been nursed, and not driven 
 to hide in a hole till his beard grew! And 
 surely, after all that had happened, Yvonne would
 
 138 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 no longer count me a traitor, Monsieur and Madame 
 would make amends for this dreadful misjudgment ! 
 And surely but if so, where were all these 
 friends? 
 
 Or what had befallen Grand Pre? 
 
 "If evil has befallen them (I did not say 
 Yvonne) I want to die ! I will go out, and fight, 
 and die at once ! " I cried, springing to my feet. 
 
 But I was still very weak, and my passion had 
 yet further weakened me, so that I fell to the floor 
 beside the couch ; and in falling I knocked over 
 the little jar and broke it. Even then I was con- 
 scious of a regret for the little jar; I realized that 
 I was thirsty; and though I wanted to die, I 
 wanted a drink of water first. 
 
 This inconsequent mood soon passed, and I 
 crawled back on to the couch, the conviction well 
 hammered into my brain that I was not yet fit to 
 die with credit. And now, having found me no 
 comfort in reason, and having faced the fact that 
 there was nothing I could do but wait, I began to 
 muse more temperately, and to cast about, as one 
 will when weak, for omens and auguries. They 
 kill time, and I hold them harmless. 
 
 But a truce to cant. Who am I that I should 
 dare to say I laugh at or deny them? I may 
 laugh at myself for a credulous fool. And I have 
 no doubt whatever that most omens are sheer 
 rubbish, more vain than a floating feather. But
 
 The Borderland of Life 139 
 
 again there are things of that kindred that have 
 convinced me, and have blessed me ; and I dare 
 not be irreverent to the mock mysteries, lest I be 
 guilty of blaspheming those which are true. We 
 know not that is the most we know. 
 
 I will not agree, then, that I was a subject for 
 laughter if, lying there alone, sick, tormented, 
 loving without hope, fast bound in ignorance of 
 events most vital to my love, I let my mind recall 
 the curious prophesyings of old Mother Pche. 
 Of Yvonne directly I dared not suffer myself to 
 think, lest my heart should break or stop. 
 
 When fate denies occasion to play the hero, 
 it is often well, while waiting, to play the child. 
 I lay quiet, looked at the patch of sky, and occu- 
 pied myself with Mother Pche's soothsayings. 
 
 Your heart's desire is near your death of hope. 
 
 At first there was comfort in this, and I took it 
 very seriously, for the sake of the argument. But 
 oh, these oracles, astute from the days of Delphi 
 and Dodona ! Already I could perceive that my 
 hope was not quite dead. A thousand chances 
 came hinting about the windows of my thought. 
 Why might not Yvonne be safe, well, free? 
 The odds were that things had gone ill in my 
 absence, but there was still the chance they might 
 have instead gone well. Here and now, plainly, 
 was not my death of hope, wherefore my heart's 
 desire could not be near. I turned aside the
 
 140 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 saying in angry contempt, and fell to feeling my 
 ribs, my shrunk chest, my skinny arms, wonder- 
 ing how long before I could well wield sword 
 again. 
 
 In this far from reassuring occupation I came 
 upon the little leather pouch which Mother Peche 
 had hung about my neck. With eagerness I drew 
 out the mystic stone and held it up before my 
 face. The eye waned and dilated in the dim light, 
 as if a living spirit lurked behind it. 
 
 " Le Veilleur," I said to myself. " The Watcher. 
 Little strange is it if simple souls ascribe to you 
 sorcery and power." 
 
 Then I remembered the snatch of doggerel 
 which the old dame had muttered over it as she 
 gave it to me. While this you wear what most you 
 fear will never come to pass. 
 
 Curious it seemed to me that it should have 
 stuck in my mind, though so little heeded at the 
 time. What most you fear. What was it most I 
 feared ? Surely, that Yvonne should go to another. 
 Then that, at least, should not befall while I lived, 
 if there were force in witchcraft ; for I would wear 
 the " Watcher " till I died. 
 
 But here again my delusive little satisfaction 
 had but a breath long to live. For indeed what 
 most I feared was something, alas ! quite differ- 
 ent. What most I feared was calamity, evil, 
 anguish, for Yvonne. Then, clearly, if her happi-
 
 The Borderland of Life 141 
 
 ness required her to be the wife of George Ander- 
 son, I could not hinder it. Could not? Nay, 
 " would not ! " I cried aloud ; and thereupon, no 
 longer able to drug myself with auguries, and no 
 longer able to be dumb under the misery of 
 my own soul, I sprang upright, strained my arms 
 above my head, and prayed a selfish prayer : 
 
 " God, give her joy, but through me, through 
 me ! " Then I flung myself down again, and set my 
 teeth, and turned my face to the wall. Thus I lay 
 as one dead ; and so it fell that when the door of 
 the cave was darkened, and steps came to my bed, 
 I did not look up.
 
 Chapter XX 
 But Mad Nor-nor-west 
 
 THE steps came close to me, moved away, 
 and were still. A sick man's curiosity soon 
 works, and here, surely, were incalculable matters 
 for me to find out. I turned over suddenly. 
 
 It was a fantastic figure that faced me, sitting on 
 a billet of wood not far from the door. Withered 
 herbs were in the high, peaked cap. The black- 
 and-yellow mantle was drawn forward to cover the 
 folded arms. The steely eyes were at my inmost 
 thought. 
 
 There is no doubt I was still a sick man. I was 
 unspeakably disappointed. Looking back upon it 
 now, I verily believe that I expected to see Yvonne, 
 as in a fairy tale. 
 
 "Why did you come in," I asked peevishly, 
 twisting under those eyes, " without proclaim- 
 ing 
 
 " ' Woe, woe to Acadie the Fair, for the hour of 
 her desolation cometh ' ? " 
 
 " It has come," said he quietly. 
 142
 
 But Mad Nor-nor-west 143 
 
 I sat up as if a spring had moved me. My 
 eyes alone questioned. 
 
 " Beausejour has fallen. France is driven back 
 on Louisbourg. The men of Acadie are in 
 chains. The women await what fate they know 
 not. Their homes await the flame." 
 
 Here was no madman speaking. 
 
 "And Yvonne?" I whispered. 
 
 " They all are safe, under shelter of the gover- 
 nor and of Anderson," he added icily. 
 
 I had no more words for a moment. Then I 
 asked " And the Black Abbe? " 
 
 His sane calm disappeared. His face worked ; 
 his hands came out from under his cloak, darting 
 like serpents ; his eyes veered like pale flame. 
 As suddenly he was calm again. 
 
 " He is at Louisbourg," said he, " at Isle St. 
 Jean here there anywhere ; free, busy, still 
 heaping and heating the fires which shall burn his 
 soul alive." 
 
 I like a man who is in earnest; but I could 
 think of nothing appropriate to say. After a 
 pause I changed the subject. 
 
 " I am thirsty," said I, " and hungry too, I 
 think, though I have eaten all the barley bread. 
 And I'm sorry, but I've broken the jar." 
 
 From a niche in the wall he at once brought me 
 more barley cake, with butter, and fresh milk, and 
 some dried beef. The wholesome, homely taste
 
 144 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 of them comes back to me now. Having eaten, I 
 felt that nothing could be quite so good as 
 sleep ; and with grateful mutterings, half spoken, 
 I slept. 
 
 When I woke it was the cold light of early 
 morning that came in at the cave-mouth ; and I 
 was alone. I felt so much better that I got up at 
 once ; but ere I could reach the door a dizziness 
 came over me, and I staggered back to my place, 
 feeling that my hour was not yet. As I lay fret- 
 ting my heart with a thousand hot conjectures, my 
 host came in. He looked at me, but said not a 
 word ; nor could I get his tongue loosened all 
 through our light breakfast. At last, to my obsti- 
 nate repetition of the inquiry: "When shall I be 
 strong enough to go down into Grand Pre?" he 
 suddenly awoke and answered: 
 
 " A little way to-morrow, perhaps ; and the 
 next day, further ; and within the week, if you are 
 fortunate, you should be strong enough for any- 
 thing. You will need to be, if you are going 
 down into Grand Pre ! " he added grimly. 
 
 Upon this direct telling I think I became in all 
 ways my sane self weak, indeed, but no longer 
 whimsical. I felt that Grul's promise was much 
 better than I could have hoped. I knew there 
 would be need of all my strength. I was a man 
 again, no more a sick child. And I would wait. 
 
 Grul busied himself a few minutes about the
 
 But Mad Nor-nor-west 145 
 
 cave, in a practical, every-day fashion that con- 
 sorted most oddly with his guise and fame. I could 
 not but think of a mad king playing scullion. But 
 there was none of the changing light of madness 
 in his eyes. 
 
 Soon he seated himself at the cave-mouth, and 
 said, pointing to a roughly shaped ledge with a 
 wolfskin upon it: 
 
 " Come hither, now, and take this good air. It 
 will medicine your thin veins." 
 
 Obeying gladly, I was soon stretched on the 
 wolfskin at the very brink, as it seemed, of the 
 open world. But it was cold. Perceiving this, 
 he arose without a word, fetched another skin, 
 and tucked it about me. His tenderness of touch 
 was like a woman's. 
 
 "How can I thank you?" I began. "It is to 
 you, I now perceive, that I owe my life. How 
 much besides I know not ! " 
 
 He waved my thanks aside something impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Yes, I saved you," said he. " It suited me to 
 do so. I foresaw you would some day repay me. 
 And I like you, boy. I trust you ; though in some 
 ways you are a vain fool." 
 
 I laughed. I had such confidence in him I 
 began to think he would bring all my desires to 
 pass. 
 
 " And I have been wont to imagine you a mad-
 
 146 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 man," said I. " But I seem to have been mis- 
 taken." 
 
 " Were I mad utterly as I seem," said he, in a 
 voice which thrilled me to the bone, " it would not 
 be strange. I am mad but on one subject ; and 
 on that I believe that God will adjudge me 
 sanest." 
 
 He was silent for a long time, that white fire 
 playing in his eyes ; and I dared not break upon 
 his reverie. At last I ventured, for my tongue 
 ached with questions unasked : 
 
 " How did you find me when I fell over the cliff? " 
 I queried. "And where was the Englishman?" 
 
 My mouth once opened, two questions instead 
 of one jumped out. 
 
 " It was noon," said Grul, " and I found your 
 Englishman sitting by you waiting for the sky to 
 fall. Had the Micmacs come instead of me, your 
 two scalps would have risen nimbly together. He 
 is a good man and brave ; but he lacks wits. A 
 woman could trust him to do anything but keep 
 her from yawning ! " 
 
 I grinned with the merest silly delight a mean 
 delight. But Grul went on : 
 
 " He is worth a dozen cleverer men ; but he 
 fatigued me. I sent him away. I told him just how 
 to go to reach the Piziquid settlement, whom to ask 
 for, and what help to bring for his sick comrade. 
 Then, knowing what was about to befall, and hav-
 
 But Mad Nor-nor-west 147 
 
 ing in mind a service which you will do me at a 
 later day, and divining that you would rather be 
 sick in a madman's cave than in an English jail, 
 I brought you here. I was reputed a wizard in 
 the old days in France, for having brought men 
 back from the very gape of the grave ; and I knew 
 you would be long sick." 
 
 I looked at him, and I think my grateful love 
 needed no words. 
 
 "And what became of the Englishman?" I 
 asked presently. 
 
 " He appeared at last in Grand Pre," answered 
 Grul, " and told the truth of you, and dwelt awhile 
 within the shadow of the chapel, to be near the 
 guests of Father Fafard ; and he got a strong 
 guard placed in the village close at hand, that those 
 who loved the English and feared the abbe might 
 sleep in peace. I hear he presses for the redemp- 
 tion of Mademoiselle's pledge ; but she, to the 
 much vexation of Monsieur and Madame, is some- 
 thing dilatory in her obedience. Of course she 
 will obey in the end. Even Father Fafard exhorts 
 her to that, for obedience sums all virtues in a 
 maid. But she has an absurd idea that the Eng- 
 lishman should present alive to her the man who 
 saved his life, before claiming reward at hands of 
 hers. I might have enabled him to do this ; but 
 you were not in a mind to be consulted." 
 
 " You are the wisest man I ever knew," said I,
 
 148 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 conscious of an absurd inclination to fling myself 
 at his feet and do penance for past supercilious 
 underratings. 
 
 He seemed to accept the tribute as not undue, 
 and again took up his monologue. 
 
 " Had you died, as seemed for some weeks likely 
 for all my skill, I should have smoothed the way 
 for the stupid Englishman ; but finding that you 
 would live, I thought to bind you to me by keeping 
 your way open. In a few days you will be well, 
 and must tread your own path, to triumph or 
 disaster as your own star shall decree. In either 
 case, I know you will stand by me when my need 
 comes ! " 
 
 " You know the merest truth," said I.
 
 Chapter XXI 
 Beausejour, and After 
 
 NOW, while I was arranging in my mind a 
 fresh and voluminous series of interroga- 
 tions, my singular host arose abruptly and went 
 off without a word, leaving me to rebuild a new 
 image of him out of the shattered fragments of 
 the old. 
 
 I saw that he was not mad, but possessed. One 
 intolerably dominant purpose of revenge making 
 all else little in his eyes, he was mad but in rela- 
 tion to a world of complex impulses ; in relation 
 to his great aim, sane, and ultimately effective, I 
 could not doubt. But the mad grotesquerie of the 
 part he had assumed had come to cling to him as 
 another self, no longer to be quite sloughed off at 
 will. To play his part well he had resolved to be 
 it; and he was it, with reservation. Just now, 
 Acadie fallen and his enemy for the time in eclipse, 
 I concluded that he found his occupation gone. 
 Therefore, after solitary and tongue-tied years, his 
 speech flowed freely to me, as a stream broken 
 
 149
 
 150 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 loose. That he had a purpose with me, I divined, 
 would excuse him in his own sight for descending 
 to the long unwonted relief of direct and simple 
 utterance. I expected to find out from him many 
 things of grave import during the few days of 
 inaction that yet lay ahead of me. Then I would 
 be able to act without, perhaps, the follies of 
 the past. Meanwhile this tender, icy, extravagant, 
 colossal, all but omniscient character had bound 
 me to him with the irrefragable bonds of mys- 
 tery, gratitude, and trust. I was Yvonne's first, but 
 next I felt myself fast in leash to the posturing 
 madman Grul. 
 
 Returning soon to my couch, I dozed and mused 
 away the morning. At noon came no sign of my 
 host, so I went to the niche in the wall, found food, 
 and made my meal alone, feeling myself hourly 
 growing in strength. Toward sunset Grul strode 
 in, waited, as my convalescent nostrils averred, 
 upon a most savoury smell. It proved to be a 
 still steaming collop of roast venison, and after 
 that feast I know the blood ran redder and swifter 
 in my pulses. 
 
 "O best physician!" said I, leaning back. 
 " And now, I beg you, assuage a little the itching 
 of my ears." 
 
 He sat, his mantle and wizard wand flung by, 
 upon a billet of wood against the wall, and looked 
 not all unlike familiar mortals of the finest. Lean-
 
 Beausjour, and After 151 
 
 ing his chin in his long, clutching hands, as if to 
 make gesture impossible, he leaped straight into 
 the story : 
 
 " That fighting fire in your Anderson, when he 
 killed the savage with his hands, died out. He is 
 still the Quaker farmer. He went to Grand Pre, 
 and cleared your name, and told how you had 
 saved him for Mademoiselle de Lamourie. With 
 some inconsequence, Mademoiselle was thereupon 
 austere with him because he had not in turn 
 saved you for her. He went to Halifax and did 
 deeds with the council for he secured further 
 and greater grants of land for himself and further 
 and greater grants of land for Giles de Lamourie, 
 with compensations for the burnings which English 
 rule should have prevented, and with, last of all, 
 an English guard for Grand Pre, in order that 
 scalps of English inclination might be secure upon 
 their owners' heads. All this was wise, and indeed 
 plain sense better than fighting. And he re- 
 mains at Grand Pre, and waits upon Mademoiselle 
 de Lamourie, patient on crumbs. 
 
 " In June things happened, while you slept here. 
 The English came in ships, sailing up Chignecto 
 water and startling the slow fools at Beausejour. 
 The English landed on their own side of the Missi- 
 guash. The black ruins of Beaubassin cried out 
 to them for vengeance on La Game." (The name, 
 upon his lips, snarled like a wolf.)
 
 152 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Vergor, the public thief, called in the men of 
 the villages to help his garrison. Beausejour was 
 a nest of beavers mending the walls but not till 
 the torrent was already tearing through. The in- 
 vaders, wading the deep mud, forced the Missi- 
 guash, and drove back the white-coat regiments. 
 They seized the long ridge behind the fort, and 
 set up their batteries. Fort guns and field guns 
 bowled at each other across the meadows. 
 
 " Meanwhile the English governor at Halifax 
 sent for the heads of the villages, the householders 
 of Piziquid, Grand Pre, Annapolis. He said the time 
 was come, the final time, and they must swear 
 fealty to King George of England. He bade them 
 choose between that oath, with peace, or a fate he 
 did not name. A few, wise like Giles de Lamou- 
 rie, took oath. The rest feared La Game, trusted 
 France, and accounted England an old woman. 
 They refused, and went home. 
 
 "The siege went on, and many balls were wasted. 
 The English were all on one side of the fort, so 
 those of the garrison who got tired of being be- 
 sieged walked out the other side and went home. 
 These were the philosophers. Vergor lived in his 
 bomb-proof casemate, and was at ease. But one 
 morning while he sat at breakfast with other officers 
 a shell came through the roof and killed certain of 
 them. 
 
 " That ended it. If the bomb-proof was not
 
 Beausejour, and After 153 
 
 bomb-proof, Vergor might get hurt. He capitu- 
 lated. His officers broke their swords, but in 
 vain. La Game spat upon him." 
 
 Here he stopped, his eyes veered, and his face 
 twisted. In a strange voice he went on : 
 
 " In La Game yet flickers one spark of good 
 his courage. Till that is eaten out by his sins 
 he lives, not being fully ripe for the final hell." 
 
 He stopped again, moistening his lips with his 
 tongue. 
 
 I put my hand to my head. 
 
 " Give me a drink of water, I pray you ! " said 
 I to divert him, fearing lest that swift and succinct 
 narrative had come to an end. 
 
 He gave it to me, and in a moment began again. 
 
 " So Beausejour fell," said he. " La Game left 
 early, for him the English wanted to hang. The 
 rest marched out with honours of war. The Eng- 
 lish found them an inconvenience as prisoners, 
 and sent them to Louisbourg. And Beausejour is 
 now Fort Cumberland." 
 
 " So fades the glory of France from Acadie 
 forever ! " I murmured, weighed down with pres- 
 cience. 
 
 " Just as it was fading," continued Grul, with a 
 hint of the cynic in his voice, " your cousin, 
 Marc de Mer, came from Quebec with despatches. 
 The garrison was marching out. He, being al- 
 ready out, judged it unnecessary to go in. He
 
 154 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 took boat down Chignecto water, and up through 
 Minas to Grand Pre. Here he busied himself with 
 your uncle's affairs, laying aside his uniform and 
 passing unmolested as a villager. 
 
 " For a little there was stillness. Then the 
 great doom fell. 
 
 " To every settlement went English battalions. 
 What I saw at Grand Pre is what others saw at 
 Annapolis, Piziquid, Baie Verte. An English 
 colonel, one Winslow, smooth and round and 
 rosy of countenance, angry and anxious, little in 
 love with his enterprise, summoned the men of 
 Grand Pre to meet him in the chapel and hear the 
 last orders of the king. There had been " last 
 orders" before, and they had exploded harmlessly 
 enough. The men of Grand Pre went and 
 your cousin Marc, having a restless curiosity, 
 went with them. Thereupon the doors were shut. 
 They were as rats in a trap, a ring of fire about 
 them. 
 
 " They learned the king's decree clearly enough. 
 They were to be put on ships, they, their fami- 
 lies, such household gear as there might be place 
 for, and carried very far from their native fields, 
 and scattered among strangers of an alien speech 
 and faith. 
 
 " Well, the mountains had fallen upon them. 
 Who could move ? They lay in the chapel, and their 
 hearts sweat blood. Daily their weeping women,
 
 Beausejour, and After 155 
 
 their wide-eyed children, came bringing food. 
 But the ships were not ready. The agony has 
 dragged all summer. At last two small ship-loads 
 are gone ; the crowd is less in the chapel ; some 
 houses stand empty in the village, waiting to 
 burn. The year grows old; the task is nearly 
 done." 
 
 There was a dark silence. 
 
 "Has my cousin Marc gone yet?" I asked 
 heavily. 
 
 " He waits and wastes in the chapel." 
 "And my almost-father, Father Fafard?" 
 " No," said Grul, " his trouble is but for others. 
 He has ever counselled men to keep their oaths. 
 He has opposed a face of steel to Quebec in- 
 trigue. The English reverence him. He blesses 
 those who are taken away. He comforts those 
 who wait." 
 
 Of Yvonne I had no excuse for asking more. 
 What more I would know I must go and learn. 
 To go and learn I must get strong. To get strong 
 I must sleep. I turned my face to the wall.
 
 Chapter XXII 
 Grul's Case 
 
 ON the following day, being alone all day, I 
 walked out, shaking at first, but with a 
 step growing rapidly assured. Not far from the 
 cave I passed a clear pool, and saw my face amid 
 the branches leaning over it. A pretty cavalier, 
 I thought, to go a-wooing. A little further on I 
 came to a secluded cabin, where a young woman 
 bent over the wash-tub in the sunny doorway. I 
 went up and saluted her courteously. The alarm 
 died from her face, and compassion melted there 
 instead. 
 
 " I have been long wounded, in the woods," I 
 said. " Give me, I pray you, the charity of a cup 
 of milk, and lend me your scissors and a glass." 
 
 At this the compassion ran away in laughter, 
 and she cried merrily: 
 
 " Sit here on the stoop, monsieur, till I get them 
 for you." 
 
 " Plainly," thought I, " you have not husband or 
 brother in the chapel at Grand Pre ! " 
 
 156
 
 Grill's Case 157 
 
 On her return she answered as it were straight 
 to my thought. 
 
 " My man's in the woods ! " she said, with pride. 
 " And he's all safe. They didn't catch him" 
 
 " You may well thank God for that, madame ! " 
 said I gravely, drinking the milk with relish and 
 setting myself assiduously to my toilet. My hair 
 of course I could do little with, I was no bar- 
 ber's apprentice. The long, straight, lustreless 
 black locks hung down over my collar, framing 
 lugubriously a face to scare hunger from a feast. 
 But there was enough of it to be persuaded into 
 covering the patches and scars. 
 
 My beard, however, proved interesting. With 
 infinite pains I trimmed it to a courtly point, and 
 decided it would pass muster. It was not unlike 
 my uncle's and the Sieur de Briart was ever, 
 in my eyes, an example of all that was to be 
 admired. The success of my efforts was attested 
 by the woman's growing respect. She now recog- 
 nized me for a gentleman, and brought me a dish 
 of curds, and bustled with civilities till I went. 
 
 I arrived back at the cave in such good fettle 
 that I felt another day would see me ripe for any 
 venture. But I was tired, and slept so soundly 
 that I knew not when my host came in. 
 
 In the morning he was there, getting ready a 
 savory breakfast. When I proposed my enter- 
 prise for the day, he said, very wisely:
 
 158 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " If you think you're fit to-day, perhaps you 
 may almost be so to-morrow. Wait. Don't bungle 
 a great matter by a little haste ! " 
 
 So I curbed my chafing eagerness, and waited. 
 He rested at home all day, and we talked much. 
 What was said, however, was for the most part not 
 pertinent to this record. Only one short reach of 
 the conversation lives in my memory but that is 
 etched with fire. 
 
 It came in this way. One question had led to 
 another, till at last I asked : 
 
 "Why do you so hate La Game?" and was 
 abashed at my boldness in asking. 
 
 He sprang up and left the cave ; and left me 
 cursing my stupidity. It was an hour ere he 
 came back, but he was calm, and seated himself 
 as if nothing had happened. 
 
 " I had thought," said he, in an even voice, 
 '' that if I were to speak of that the walls of this 
 cave would cry out upon me for vengeance de- 
 layed. But I have considered, and a little I will 
 tell you. You must know ; for the hour will 
 come when you will help me in my vengeance, and 
 you might weaken, for you do not comprehend 
 the mad sweetness of hate. You are born for a 
 great happiness or a great sorrow, and either 
 destiny may make one blunt to hate. 
 
 " I was a poor gentleman of Blois, part fop, part 
 fantastical scholar, a dabbler in magic, and a lover
 
 Grul's Case 159 
 
 of women. My nature pulled two ways. I was 
 alone in the world, save for a little sister, beauti- 
 ful, just come to womanhood, whom I loved as 
 daughter and sister both. She thought me the 
 wonderful among men. It chanced that at last I 
 knew another love. A woman, the wife of a 
 witless pantaloon of the neighbourhood, ensnared 
 all my wits, till I saw life only in her eyes. Her 
 husband came upon us in her garden and for 
 his reproaches I beat him cruelly. But he, though 
 not a man, was not all fool. For loving his wife 
 he could not punish me I being stronger and 
 more popular than he ; but he knew that for theft 
 the law would hang a man. He hid a treasure of 
 jewels, and with a nice cunning fixed the crime upon 
 me. It was clear as daylight, so that almost myself 
 believed myself guilty. In a foul, reeking cell in 
 the city wall I awaited judgment and the penalty. 
 
 " A confession makes the work of the judges 
 easier, and as I would not confess I was to be tor- 
 tured when the Court was ready; all in good 
 time. 
 
 " At Blois was a young blade renowned no less 
 for his conquests of women than for his ill- 
 favoured face. His ugliness prevailed where the 
 beauty of other men found virtue an impregnable 
 wall against it. He courted my sister. She re- 
 pulsed him. It got about and shamed him. Then 
 (I this while in prison, and she helpless) he laid
 
 160 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 a public wager with his fellows that he would have 
 her innocence. 
 
 " He told her I was to be tortured. After a time 
 he told her he could save me from that extremity. 
 This thought worked for a time upon her lonely 
 anguish. Then he swore he would save me 
 but at a price. 
 
 " At last the price was paid. He won his wager. 
 On the day that I was tortured she killed herself 
 before the judges. He, astonished, fled to Italy, 
 hid in a monastery, and dedicated himself to the 
 missions of the New World. 
 
 " The judges were, after all, men. They said the 
 evidence against me was insufficient. They set 
 me free, as an avenger. 
 
 " I have not been in haste. The man has grown 
 more evil year by year ; so I have waited. I will 
 not send him to his account till the score is full. 
 The deepest hell must be ready, and gape for him. 
 Meanwhile, his soul has dwelt all these years alone 
 with fear. He is a brave man, but he knows I 
 wait he knows not for what ; and he sweats 
 and is afraid ! " 
 
 He told the story simply, quietly; but there 
 was madness in his voice. The unspeakable thing 
 choked me. I got up. 
 
 " It is enough ! " said I. " I will not fail you 
 when you need me." 
 
 But I went out into the air for a little.
 
 Chapter XXIII 
 At Gaspereau Lower Ford 
 
 ON the following day, being Tuesday, Novem- 
 ber 1 6, 1755, and my twenty-seventh birth- 
 day, I went down to Grand Pre. I am thus precise 
 about the date, for I felt as I set forth that the 
 issues of life and death hung upon my going. 
 Right here, it seemed to me, was a very knife- 
 edge of a day, which should sever and allot to me 
 for all the future my part of joy or ruin. Surely, 
 thought I, to justify my expectation of colossal 
 events, I have not lain these long months dead, 
 that action, once more started, should dribble like 
 a spent stream. 
 
 Therefore I went, like a careful strategist, 
 equipped with all the knowledge Grul could give. 
 I had planned how to reach Father Fafard, and 
 through him how to reach Yvonne. And as the 
 day was to be a great one, I thought well it 
 should be a long one. I set out upon the palest 
 promise of daybreak. 
 
 My strength, under one compelling purpose, had 
 161
 
 162 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 come back ; and it seemed to me that I saw events 
 and their chances with radiating clearness. So up- 
 strung were my nerves that the long tramp seemed 
 over in a few minutes, and I found myself, almost 
 with surprise, at the lower ford of the Gaspereau, 
 just under the hill which backs Grand Pre. Here 
 was the thick wood wherein I planned to lie perdu, 
 in the event of dangerous passers. In a little while 
 there came in view a woman, heavy-eyed and di- 
 shevelled, carrying a basket of new-baked barley 
 bread, very sweet to smell. It was clear she was 
 one with an interest in the prisoners at the chapel. 
 In such a case I could have no fear of stumbling 
 upon a traitor. I stepped out to her. 
 
 " Would that he, too," said I significantly, 
 " had gone to the woods in time ! " 
 
 Her eyes ran over with the ready and waiting 
 tears; but she jerked her apron jealously over the 
 loaves, and looked at me with a touch of resent- 
 ment, as if to say, " Why had you such foresight, 
 and not he? " 
 
 " He went to hear the reading, and they took 
 him," she moaned. " And who will keep the little 
 ones from starving in the winter coming on? " 
 
 " It is where I, too, would be now in the 
 chapel prison yonder," said I gently. " But I lay 
 in the woods, wounded, too sick to go to the read- 
 ing, so I escaped." 
 
 The resentment faded out. She saw that I was
 
 At Gaspereau Lower Ford 163 
 
 not one of those who shamed her husband's cre- 
 dulity. I might have been caught too, had I been 
 given the same chance. 
 
 " For the little ones, I pray you accept this sil- 
 ver, and count it a loan to your husband in his 
 prison," said I, slipping two broad Spanish pieces 
 into her hand. 
 
 She looked grateful and astonished, but had no 
 words ready. 
 
 " And do, I beg of you, a kindness to one in 
 bitter need of it," I went on. " You know Father 
 Fafard ? " 
 
 Her face lightened with love. 
 
 " He grieves for me, thinking me dead," said I. 
 " Tell him, I beg of you, that one who loves him 
 waits to see him in the wood by the lower ford." 
 
 Her face clouded with suspicion. 
 
 " How shall I know how shall he know 
 you are honest? " she asked. 
 
 I was troubled. 
 
 " You must judge by your woman's wit," said I. 
 " And he will come. He fears no one. But no, 
 tell him Paul Grande waits at the lower ford." 
 
 " The traitor! " she blazed out; and, recoiling, 
 hurled the money in my face. It stung strangely. 
 
 " You are wrong," said I, in a low voice. " But 
 as you will. Tell him, if you will, that Paul 
 Grande, the traitor, waits for him at the lower ford. 
 But if you do not tell him, be sure he will not soon
 
 164 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 forgive you. And for the money, he shall keep it 
 for your children and you will be sorry to have 
 unjustly accused me." 
 
 She laughed, with bitter mockery, and turned 
 away. 
 
 " But I will tell him ; that can do no harm," she 
 said. " I'll tell him the traitor who loves him 
 waits at the ford." 
 
 I withdrew into the wood, beyond all reason 
 pained at the injustice. 
 
 The unpleasant peasant woman was as good as 
 her word, however; for in little more than the 
 space of an hour I saw Father Fafard approach- 
 ing. Plainly he had come hot upon the instant. 
 
 " My dear, dear boy ! Where have you been, 
 and what suffered?" he cried, catching me hard 
 by the two arms, and looking into my eyes. ' 
 
 " It was Grul saved me," said I. 
 
 Beyond earshot, deep in the wood, where no 
 wind hindered the noon sun from warming a little 
 open glade, I told my story briefly. 
 
 " Paul," said he, when I had finished, " my heart 
 has now the first happiness it has known through 
 all these dreadful months. But you must slip out 
 of this doomed country without an hour's delay. 
 Quebec, of course ! And then, when an end is 
 made here, I will join you. Have you money for 
 the journey? " 
 
 I laughed softly.
 
 At Gaspereau Lower Ford 165 
 
 " My plans are not quite formed. I must see 
 Yvonne. Will you fetch her to me? " 
 
 He rose in anger a little forced, I thought. 
 
 " No ! " said he. 
 
 " Then, I beseech you, give her a message 
 from me, that I may see her for a little this very 
 day." 
 
 " Paul," he cried passionately, " it is a sin to 
 talk of it. She has pledged her troth. She is at 
 peace. I will not have her disturbed." 
 
 " Does she love him? " I asked. 
 
 "I I suppose so. Or she will, doubtless," he 
 stammered. 
 
 " Oh, doubtless ! " said I. " And meanwhile, 
 does she show readiness to carry out her prom- 
 ise? Does she listen kindly to her impatient 
 lover her anxious father?" 
 
 " The Englishman has displeased her, for a 
 time," said he, " but that will pass. She knows the 
 duty of obedience ; she respects the plighted word. 
 There can be but one ending ; though you may suc- 
 ceed in making her very unhappy for a time." 
 
 " I will make her very happy," I said quietly, 
 " so long as time endures for her and me." 
 
 He flashed round upon me with sharp scorn. 
 
 "What can you do for her? You, hiding for 
 your life, the ruined upholder of a lost cause ! 
 Here she is safe, protected, wealth and security 
 before her. And with you ? "
 
 166 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Life, I think ! " said I, rising too, and stretch- 
 ing out my arms. " But listen, father," I went 
 on more lightly. " I am not so helpless. I have 
 some little rentes in Montreal, you know. And 
 moreover, I am not planning to carry her off 
 to-night. By no means anything so finely irregu- 
 lar. I am not ready. Only, see her I will before 
 I go. If you will not help me, I will stay about 
 this place, about your house indeed, till I meet 
 her. That is all. If you dote upon my going, 
 you know the way to speed me." 
 
 His kind, round face puckered anxiously. But 
 he hit upon a compromise. 
 
 " I will have no hand in it," said he. " But if 
 you are resolved to stay, you may as well find her 
 without loss of time. The house we occupy is 
 crowded, and she affects a solitary mood. She 
 walks over the hill and down this way, of an even- 
 ing, to visit some unhappy ones along by the 
 river. You may see her, perhaps, to-night." 
 
 I grasped his hand and kissed it, but he drew it 
 away, vexed at himself. 
 
 " We will talk of other things now," I said softly. 
 " But do not be angry if I say I love you, father." 
 
 He smiled with an air of reproach ; and there- 
 after talk we did through hours, save for a little 
 time when he was absent fetching me a meal. All 
 that Grul had told me of the ruin of the French 
 cause he told me in another colour, and more
 
 At Gaspereau Lower Ford 167 
 
 besides of the doom of the Acadians but upon 
 Yvonne's name we touched no more by so much 
 as the lightest breath. 
 
 At my cousin Marc's rashness in going to the 
 chapel he glanced with some severity, grieving 
 for the sorrow of the young wife at Quebec. But 
 for the English he had many good words they 
 were pitiful, he said, in the act of carrying out 
 cruel orders. And they neither robbed nor terror- 
 ized. Not they, said he, but a wicked priest and 
 the intriguers of a rotten government at Quebec, 
 were the scourge of Acadie. 
 
 When the sun got low over the Gaspereau Ridge 
 he called to mind some duties too long forgotten, 
 and bade me farewell with a loving wistfulness. I 
 think, however, it was the imminent coming of 
 Yvonne that drove him away. He feared lest he 
 should meet her, and in seeming to know of my 
 purpose seem to sanction it. I could not help be- 
 lieving in my heart that in this matter, perhaps for 
 the first time in his priesthood, the kind cure's 
 conscience was a little tremulous in its admoni- 
 tions. 
 
 I watched him out of sight; and then, posting 
 myself in a coign of vantage behind a great willow 
 that overhung the stream, I waited with a thump- 
 ing heart, and with a misgiving that all other 
 organs within my frame had slumped away to 
 nothing but a meagre and contemptible jelly.
 
 Chapter XXIV 
 "If You Love Me, Leave Me" 
 
 TILL the flames of amber and copper along the 
 Gaspereau Ridge had temperately dimin- 
 ished to a lucidity of pale violet, I waited and 
 watched. Then all at once the commotion in my 
 bosom came to an icy stop. 
 
 A light, white form descended from the ridge to 
 the ford. I needed not the black lace shawl about 
 the head and shoulders to tell me it was she, be- 
 fore a feature or a line could be distinguished. 
 The blood at every tingling finger-tip thrilled the 
 announcement of her coming. 
 
 I grasped desperately at all I had planned to 
 say now slipping from me. I felt that she was 
 intrenched in a fixed resolve ; and I felt that not my 
 life alone, ready to become a very small matter, 
 
 but hers, her true life, depended upon my 
 breaking that resolve. Yet how was I to conquer 
 her, I who at sight of her was at her feet? I knew 
 
 with that inner knowledge by which I know God 
 is that she, the whitest of women, intended un- 
 
 168
 
 "If You Love Me, Leave Me" 169 
 
 wittingly a sin against her body in wedding a man 
 unloved that she, in my eyes the wisest, most 
 clear-visioned of women, contemplated a folly 
 beyond words. But how could I so far escape my 
 reverence for her as to convict her of this folly 
 and this sin? 
 
 But now all my thoughts, words, pleas, sprayed 
 into air. She came and I stepped into her 
 path, whispering: 
 
 " Yvonne ! " 
 
 She was almost within reach of my hand, had I 
 stretched it out, but I dared not touch her. 
 She gave the faintest cry. Taken at so sudden a 
 disadvantage, she had not time to mask herself, 
 and her great eyes told for one heart-beat what I 
 knew her lips would have denied. Her fingers 
 locked and unlocked where they caught the black 
 mantilla across her bosom. She stood for an 
 instant motionless ; then glanced back up the hill 
 with a desperate fear. 
 
 " They will see you ! " she half sobbed. " You 
 will be caught and thrown into prison. Oh, hide 
 yourself, hide at once ! " 
 
 " Not without you," I interrupted. 
 
 "Then with me ! " she cried pantingly, and led 
 the way, almost running, back of the willow, down 
 a thread of a path, to a hidden place behind a bend 
 of the stream. Glancing back at the last moment, 
 I saw a squad of soldiers coming over the hill.
 
 170 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 As soon as she felt that I was safely out of sight 
 and earshot, she turned and faced me with a 
 sudden swift anger. 
 
 "Why have you done this? Why have you 
 forced me to this?" she cried. 
 
 "Because I love you," said I slowly. "Be- 
 cause " 
 
 She drew herself up. 
 
 " You do not know," said she, " what I have 
 promised to Monsieur Anderson. I have promised 
 to redeem my word to him when he can show you 
 to me safe and well." 
 
 I laughed with sheer joy. 
 
 " He shall wait long then," said I. " Sooner 
 than he should claim the guerdon I will fall upon 
 my sword, though my will is, rather, to live for 
 you, beloved." 
 
 " Had the soldiers seen you and taken you," 
 said she, in her eagerness forgetting her disguise, 
 " he would have been able to claim me to-morrow. 
 They may yet take you. Oh, go, go at once ! " 
 
 "They shall not take me. Now that I know 
 you love me, Yvonne, for you have betrayed 
 it, my life is, next to yours, the most precious 
 thing to me in the world. I go at once to 
 Quebec to settle my affairs and prepare a home 
 for you. Then I will come, it will be but in a 
 month or two, when this trouble is overpast, 
 and I will take you away."
 
 "If You Love Me, Leave Me" 171 
 
 Her face, all her form, drooped with a sort of 
 weariness, as if her will had been too long taxed. 
 
 " You will find me the wife of George Ander- 
 son," she said faintly. 
 
 It was as if I had been struck upon the temples. 
 My mouth opened, and shut again without words. 
 First rage, then amazement, then despair, ran 
 through me in hot surges. 
 
 " But your promise not till he could show 
 me to you," I managed to stammer. 
 
 " I gave it in good faith," she said simply. " I 
 can no longer hold him off by it, for I have seen 
 you safe and well." 
 
 " I am not safe, as you may soon see," said I 
 fiercely, " and not long shall I be well, as you will 
 learn." Then, perceiving that this was a sorry 
 kind of threat, and little manly, I made haste to- 
 amend it. 
 
 " No, no," I cried, " forget that ! But stick to. 
 the letter of your promises, I beseech you. Why 
 push to go back of that? Unless," I added, 
 with bitterness, " you want the excuse ! " 
 
 She shuddered, and forgot to resent the brutality. 
 
 "Go!" she pleaded. "Save yourself for 
 my sake Paul ! " And her voice broke. 
 
 "That you may wed with the cleare- con- 
 science ! " I went on, merciless in my pain. 
 
 She crouched down, a drear and pitiful figure, 
 on the slope of sod, and wept silently, her hands.
 
 172 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 over her eyes. I looked at her helplessly. I 
 wanted to throw myself at her feet. Then the 
 right thing seemed that I should gather her up into 
 my arms but I dared not touch her. At last 
 I said, doubtfully: 
 
 " But you love me ! " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " You do love me, Yvonne? " 
 
 She lifted her face, and with a childish 
 bravery dashed off the tears, first with one hand, 
 then the other. She looked me straight in the 
 eyes. 
 
 " I do not" said she, daring the lie. " But you 
 you disturb me ! " 
 
 This astonishing remark did not shake my con- 
 fidence, but it threw me out of my argument. I 
 shifted ground. 
 
 " You do not love him ! " I exclaimed, lamely 
 enough. 
 
 " I respect him ! " said she, cool now, and con- 
 trolling the situation. I felt that I had lost my 
 one moment of advantage the moment when I 
 should have taken her into my arms. Not timid- 
 ity, but reverence, had balked me. My heart turned, 
 as it were, in my breast, with a hot, dumb fury 
 at myrelf. 
 
 " The respect that cannot breed love for a lover 
 will soon breed contempt," said I, holding myself 
 hard to mere reasoning.
 
 "If You Love Me, Leave Me" 173 
 
 She ignored this idle answer. She arose and 
 came close up to me. 
 
 " Paul," she said, scarcely above a whisper, 
 " will you save yourself for my sake ? If I say 
 if I say that I do love you a little that if it 
 could have been different been you I should 
 have been oh, glad, glad ! then will you go, 
 for my sake ? " 
 
 " No, no indeed ! " shouted the heart within me 
 at this confession. But with hope came cunning. 
 I temporized. 
 
 " And if I go, for your sake," I asked, " when 
 do you propose to become the wife of the English- 
 man?" 
 
 " Not for a long time, I will promise you," said 
 she earnestly. " Not for a year no, not for 
 two years, if you like. Oh," with a catch in her 
 voice, " not till I can feel differently about you, 
 Paul ! " And she hung her head at the admis- 
 sion. 
 
 " Dear," I said, " most dear and wonderful, 
 can you not even now see how monstrous it would 
 be if I should seem, for a moment, to relinquish 
 you to another? Soul and body must tell you 
 you are mine, as I am yours. But your eyes are 
 shut. You are a maid, and you do not realize 
 what it is that I would save you from. It is your 
 very whiteness blinds you, so that you do not see 
 the intolerableness of what they would thrust upon
 
 174 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 you. For you it would be a sin. You do not see 
 it but you would see it, awaking to the truth 
 when it was too late. From the horror of that 
 awakening I must save you. I must " 
 
 But she did not see ; though her brain must have 
 comprehended, her body did not; and therefore 
 there could be no real comprehension of a matter 
 so vital. She brushed aside my passionate argu- 
 ment, and came close up to me. 
 
 " Paul, dear," she said, " I think I know the 
 beauty of sacrifice. I am sure I know what is 
 right. You cannot shake me. I know what must 
 be in the end. But if you will go and save your- 
 self, I promise that the end shall be far off so 
 that he may grow angry, and perhaps even set me 
 free, as I have almost asked him to do. But now 
 this is good-by, dear. You shall go. You will 
 not disobey me. But you may say good-by to me. 
 And as once you kissed my feet (they have been 
 proud ever since), so though it is a sin, I know 
 you may kiss my lips, just once, and go." 
 
 How little she knew what she was doing ! Even 
 as she spoke she was in my arms. The next 
 moment she was trembling violently, and then she 
 strove to tear herself away. But I was inexorable, 
 and folded her close for yet an instant longer, till 
 she was still. I raised my head and pushed her a 
 little away, holding her by both arms that I might 
 see her face.
 
 u If You Love Me, Leave Me" 175 
 
 " Oh," she gasped, " you are cruel ! I did not 
 mean that you should kiss me so so hard." 
 
 " My wife ! " I whispered irrelevantly. 
 
 " Let me go, sir," she said, with her old imperi- 
 ous air, trying to remove herself from my grasp 
 upon her arms. But I did not think it necessary 
 to obey her. Then her face saddened in a way 
 that made me afraid. 
 
 " You have done wrong, Paul," she said 
 heavily. "I meant you should just touch me and 
 go. You took unmanly advantage. Alas ! I fear 
 I have a bad heart. I cannot be so angry as I 
 ought. But I am resolved. You know, now, that 
 I love you ; that no other can ever have my love. 
 But that knowledge is thejend of all between us, 
 even of the friendship which might, one day, have 
 comforted me. Go, I command you, if you would 
 not have me an unhappy woman forever ! " 
 
 She wrenched herself free. Then, seeing me, 
 as she thought, hesitate for an answer, she added 
 firmly : 
 
 " I love you ! But I love honour more, and 
 obedience to the right, and my plighted word. Go !" 
 
 " I will not go, my beloved, till you swear to tell 
 the Englishman to-morrow that you love me and 
 intend to be my wife." 
 
 " Listen," she said. " If you do not go at once, 
 I promise you that I will be George Anderson's 
 wife to-morrow."
 
 176 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 I stared at her dumbly. Was it conceivable 
 that she should mean such madness? Her eyes 
 were fathomlessly sorrowful, her mouth was set. 
 How was I to decide? 
 
 But fortune elected to save me the decision. 
 A sharp voice came from the bank above 
 
 " I arrest you, in the king's name ! " 
 
 We glanced up. There stood a squad of red- 
 coats, a spruce young officer at their head.
 
 Chapter XXV 
 Over Gaspereau Ridge 
 
 MONSIEUR WALDRON ! " cried Yvonne 
 faintly. 
 
 "You here, Mademoiselle de Larnourie ! " he 
 exclaimed, with a surprise that his courtesy could 
 not quite conceal. 
 
 " This, monsieur," she said, in a brave confu- 
 sion, " is my friend, here for a moment because 
 of my foolish desire to see him. I beg you " 
 
 But he interrupted, reluctantly enough : 
 
 " It hurts me, mademoiselle, to have to say that 
 your friend is my prisoner. If I were free to 
 please you, he should go free." 
 
 The case was clearly beyond mending, so I 
 would not condescend to evasion. 
 
 " I can do nothing but surrender, monsieur," 
 said I civilly, "under the conclusive arbitrament 
 of your muskets. Here is my sword." He took 
 it, and I went on : 
 
 " I am Captain Paul Grande, of the French army 
 in Canada." 
 
 177
 
 178 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 His face changed. 
 
 " A spy, then ! " he said harshly. 
 
 " You insult with impunity," I began. " An un- 
 armed " 
 
 But Yvonne broke in, her eyes flaming : 
 
 " How dare you, sir, insult me ? That is not to 
 be done with impunity, I think." 
 
 The man looked puzzled. Then his face cleared 
 somewhat. 
 
 " I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," he said 
 slowly, looking from her face to mine. " I begin 
 to understand a little, I think. There is a. very 
 sufficient reason why a French officer might ap- 
 pear in an enemy's country without his uniform 
 that country being Grand Pre and yet be no 
 spy!" 
 
 " I give you my word of honour," said I, " that 
 I am no spy, but merely your prisoner. And if 
 brought to trial I will prove what I say." 
 
 " I beg your pardon also provisionally," 
 he replied, with a pleasant air. " I am the last to 
 believe a gentleman a spy, and I am confident 
 you will clear yourself of the unavoidable charge. 
 You are a soldier. You must see it to be un- 
 avoidable," he added. 
 
 " I do, monsieur," said I sorrowfully. " I have 
 lain for months, wounded and delirious, in a hid- 
 ing-place not far off, nursed by a faithful friend. 
 Having just recovered, I came here for a fare-
 
 Over Gaspereau Ridge 179 
 
 well to dear friends ; and you have arrived inoppor- 
 tunely, monsieur." 
 
 There was the bitterness of final despair beneath 
 the lightness which I assumed. 
 
 " Your action seems to me very pardonable, I 
 assure you," said he. " But I am not the judge. 
 We must go." And he motioned his men to me. 
 
 But Yvonne came close to my side and laid her 
 hand lightly on my arm. 
 
 " It is my wish, Monsieur Waldron," she said, 
 " that Captain Grande should escort me, with 
 your assistance, and that of your guard also, if 
 you will ! " 
 
 "Why, certainly, mademoiselle, it shall be as 
 you wish," he said, with a ghost of a smile, which 
 set her blushing wildly. " I have Captain Grande's 
 sword and his" 
 
 " And my word," said I, bowing. 
 
 "And his parole," he continued. "I need in 
 no way constrain him till we reach the the 
 chapel. I will lead my men a little in the rear, 
 and strive not to interrupt your conversation." 
 
 " I can never thank you enough for your cour- 
 tesy, monsieur," said I. 
 
 So it came that a strange procession marched 
 up the Gaspereau Ridge, through the bleak twilight. 
 And the hilltop drew swiftly near and my last 
 few minutes sped and I was dumb. Still, she 
 was at my side. And perhaps my silence spoke.
 
 180 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 But when we crossed the ridge, and the chapel 
 prison appeared, and Yvonne's house some way 
 apart, my tongue found speech, but not argu- 
 ment, only wild entreaties, adorations, words that 
 made her body tremble, though not, alas ! her will. 
 At length she stopped. 
 
 " You must go back to them now, Paul. I will 
 go on alone. Good-by, dear ! " 
 
 " But we are not near the house," I stammered. 
 " Monsieur Anderson may come out to meet 
 me. If he sees you now, before I change my 
 conditions, how shall I escape the instant fulfil- 
 ment of my promise?" 
 
 " But I am not safe, surely," I argued. 
 " His testimony can at once make you safe," 
 said she. 
 
 My heart dropped, feeling the truth of her 
 words. I could say nothing that I had not already 
 said. Feeling impotent, feeling that utter defeat 
 had been hurled upon me in the very moment of 
 triumph, my brain seemed to stop working. 
 
 " What will you do ? " was all that came through 
 my dry lips. 
 
 She had grown much older in the last hour. 
 " I will wait, Paul, as I promised you," she said 
 sadly; "one year no, two years before I 
 redeem my pledge and become his wife. That is 
 all I can do and that I can do. I choose to 
 believe that you would have obeyed me and gone
 
 Over Gaspereau Ridge 181 
 
 away at once, if we had not been interrupted. 
 Therefore I keep my promise to you. It was not 
 your fault that you were not permitted to obey 
 me." 
 
 I was quite at the end of my tether, though my 
 resolution rose again to full stature on learning that 
 I should have time time to plan anew. She 
 held out her hand. " Good-by, and God keep 
 you, my dear friend ! " said she very softly. 
 
 I looked around. The squad had halted near 
 by. Some were looking, curse them ! But that 
 most decent officer had his back turned, and was' 
 intently scanning the weather. I lifted her hand 
 to my lips. 
 
 "My wife!" I muttered, unfalteringly obsti- 
 nate. 
 
 " No ! " she said sadly. " Only your friend. 
 Oh, leave me that ! " 
 
 And she was gone, a Psyche glimmering away 
 through the dark which strove to cling to her. 
 
 I stood for a moment, eyes and heart straining 
 after her. Then I turned as the guard came up, 
 
 "At your service, monsieur," said I.
 
 Chapter XXVI 
 The Chapel Prison 
 
 BEFORE the door of the chapel stood a bent 
 old figure hooded in a red shawl. Mutter- 
 ing, and with bowed head, it poked in the dust 
 with a staff. When we were close at hand it 
 straightened alertly; and old Mother Pe'che's 
 startling eyes flashed into mine. I could have 
 kissed the strange hawk face, so glad was I to see it. 
 And I held out my hand, to be clutched eagerly. 
 
 " My blessings be upon thee, cheri Master 
 Paul ! " she cried. 
 
 "Thank you, mother! " said I. "Your love is 
 very dear to me; and for your blessings, I need 
 them all." 
 
 " Come, monsieur," said Waldron, at the steps. 
 
 " A word, a word," she begged, half of him, 
 half of me, " before thou go in there and these old 
 eyes, perhaps, see thee never again." 
 
 " Grant me one moment, I beg you, monsieur," 
 said I earnestly to Waldron. " She is a dear old 
 friend and retainer of my family." 
 
 182
 
 The Chapel Prison 183 
 
 He nodded, and turned half aside in patient in- 
 difference. 
 
 " Listen," she whispered, thrusting her face near 
 mine, and talking rapidly, that the guard, who 
 were but clumsy with our French speech, might 
 not understand. "Hast thou the stone safe?" 
 
 " Surely," said I. 
 
 " Then here, take this," she muttered, laying a 
 silken tress of hair in my hand. In the dusk I 
 could not note its colour ; but I needed not light 
 to tell me whose it was. My blood ran hot and 
 cold beneath it. The pulse throbbed furiously in 
 my fingers as they closed upon it. " I clipped 
 it under the new moon, the right moon, with my 
 own hand, for thee, Master Paul." 
 
 "Did she know it was for me?" I asked, in a 
 sort of ecstasy. 
 
 " No, no ! " answered the old dame impatiently; 
 " but she gave it to me laughing because I 
 wanted it. I said that I was going far away with 
 these my people," sweeping her hand toward 
 the village, " while she, perhaps, would stay. 
 Strangely she regarded that perhaps. Master Paul. 
 But here it is and I have put a spell upon it 
 while waiting for thee to come ; and it will draw, 
 it will draw her ; she cannot let it go very far off, 
 as long as she lives. It is for thee, cheri, I did 
 It" 
 
 Now, how I loved her for it, even while deriding
 
 184 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 the magic, I need not tell. Yet I was angry with 
 her for explaining. That made me seem to take 
 a base advantage in retaining the treasure. Sor- 
 rowfully I said : 
 
 " I cannot keep it, mother. That were treason 
 to her. I will have naught of her but what her 
 own heart gives me." 
 
 And I held out the precious lock to her again, 
 yet all the time grasped it tightly enough, no 
 doubt. 
 
 " Why, cheri," she laughed cunningly, " where 
 is the treason? You don't believe an old wife's 
 foolish charms ! " 
 
 " True, mother," I acquiesced at once, relieved 
 beyond measure, " true, there can be no witch- 
 craft in it but that which ever resides in every hair 
 of that dear head. Not her, alas ! but me, me it 
 ensnares. God bless you, mother, for this wonder- 
 ful gift." 
 
 " Be of good cheer, Master Paul," she said, hob- 
 bling briskly off. " I will bring thee some word 
 often to the wicket." 
 
 " I am ready now for the inside of these walls, 
 monsieur," said I, turning to Waldron, with a 
 warm elation at my heart. The hair I had coiled 
 and slipped into the little deerskin pouch wherein 
 the eye of Manitou slumbered. 
 
 A moment more and I had stepped inside the 
 prison. The closing and locking of the door
 
 The Chapel Prison 185 
 
 seemed to me unnecessarily loud, blatantly con- 
 spicuous. 
 
 At once I heard greetings, my name spoken 
 on all sides, heartily, respectfully, familiarly, as 
 might be, for I had both friends and followers 
 many, alas! in that dolorous company. To 
 them, worn with the sameness of day upon monot- 
 onous day, my coming was an event. But for a 
 little I chose to heed no one. There was time, I 
 thought, ahead of us, more than we should know 
 what to do with. As I could not possibly speak 
 to all at once, I spoke to none. I leaned against 
 a wooden pillar, looked at the windows, then the 
 altar-place, of the sacred building which hived for 
 me so many humming memories of childhood 
 memories rich with sweetness, sharp with sting. 
 The place looked battered, begrimed, desecrated, 
 yet a haunting of my mother's gentle eyes still 
 hallowed it. To see them the better I covered my 
 own eyes with my hand. 
 
 " It must be something of a sorer stroke than 
 merely to be clapped in prison, to make my 
 captain so downcast," I heard a cheerful voice 
 declare close at my elbow. 
 
 " Why, and that it is, you may be sure, my 
 brave ferryman ! " said I, looking up with a smile 
 and grasping the long, gaunt fingers of yellow 
 Ba'tiste Chouan. " I have my own reasons for 
 not wanting to be in Grand Pre chapel this day,
 
 i86 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 for all that it is especially the place where I can 
 see most of my friends." 
 
 Straightway, my mood changing, I moved swiftly 
 hither and thither, calling them by name. There 
 was the whole clan of the Le Marchands, black, 
 fearless, melancholy for their flax-fields ; the three 
 Le Boutilliers ; the brave young slip, Jacques Vio- 
 let, whom I had liked as a boy ; a Landry or two ; 
 the lad Petit Joliet ; several of the restless Labillois ; 
 long Philibert Trou, the moose-hunter ; and, to my 
 regretful astonishment, that wily fox, La Mouche. 
 
 " You here, too ! " I cried, shaking him by the 
 arm. " If they have caught you, who has 
 escaped ! " 
 
 " I came in on business, my captain," said he 
 grimly. 
 
 "A woman back of it, monsieur," grunted 
 Philibert, indifferent to La Mouche's withering 
 eye-stroke. 
 
 Naturally, I did not smile. I met his brooding, 
 deep eyes with a look which told him much. I 
 might, indeed, have even spoken a word of com- 
 prehension ; but just then I caught sight of my 
 cousin Marc coming from the sacristy. I hastened 
 to greet him with hand and heart. 
 
 There was so much to talk of between us two 
 that others, understanding, left us to ourselves. 
 He told me of his little Puritan's grief, far away in 
 Quebec, of her long suspense, and of how, at last,
 
 The Chapel Prison 187 
 
 he had got word to her. " She is a woman among 
 ten thousand, Paul," said he. " These New Eng- 
 landers are the people to breed up a wife for a 
 French gentleman." 
 
 I assented most heartily, for I had ever liked 
 and admired that white-skinned Prudence of his. 
 Of my own affairs I told him some things fully, 
 some things not at all ; of my accident, my illness, 
 my sojourning with Grul, everything; but of my 
 coming to the Gaspereau ford and my capture, 
 nothing then. 
 
 " There is too much hanging upon it, Marc," 
 said I. "It touches me too deeply. I cannot talk of 
 it at all while we are like to be interrupted. Let 
 us wait for quiet when the rest are asleep." 
 
 " It is cold here at night," said Marc, " but the 
 women have been allowed to bring us a few quilts 
 and blankets. You will share mine the gift of 
 the good cure. Then we can talk." 
 
 The early autumnal dark had been feebly lighted 
 this while by a few candles ; but candles were get- 
 ting scarce in the stricken cottages of Grand Pre, 
 and in Grand Pre chapel prison they were a 
 hoarded luxury. The words " lights out " came 
 early ; and Marc and I laid ourselves in a corner 
 of the sacristy by general consent reserved to 
 him. 
 
 A cold glimmer of stars came in by the narrow 
 window, and I thought of them looking down on
 
 1 88 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 Yvonne, awake, not sleeping, I well knew. Were 
 the astrologers right, I wondered. Good men and 
 great had believed in the jurisdiction of the stars. 
 I remembered a very learned astrologer in Paris, 
 during the year I spent there, and futilely I wished 
 I had consulted him. But at the time I had been 
 so occupied with the present as to make small 
 question of the future. 
 
 Soon the sound of many breathings told that the 
 prisoners were forgetting for a little their bars and 
 walls. In a whisper, slowly, I told Marc of my 
 coming to Grand Pre in the spring of Yvonne's 
 bond to the Englishman of the conversation at 
 the hammock of the fire, the scene at the boat, 
 the saving of Anderson and of all that had just 
 been said and done at the ford of the Gaspereau. 
 
 He heard me through, in such silence that my 
 heart sank, fearing he, too, was against me ; and I 
 passionately craved his support. I knew the lack 
 of it would no jot alter my purpose ; but I loved 
 him, and hungered for the warmth of the comrade 
 heart. 
 
 When he spoke, however, my fears straight fell 
 dead. 
 
 " Only let us get safe out of this coil, Paul, and 
 we will let my Prudence take the obstinate maid 
 in hand," said he, with an air that proclaimed all 
 confidence in the result. " You must remember, 
 dear old boy, the inevitable fetish which our
 
 The Chapel Prison 189 
 
 French maids are wont to make out of obedience 
 to parents a fair and worshipful virtue, indeed, 
 that obedience, but not one to exact the sacrifice 
 of a woman's life and of what is yet more 
 sacred to her. Prudence will make her under- 
 stand some things that you could not." 
 
 I felt for his hand and gripped it. 
 
 "You think I will win her?" I whispered. 
 "And you will stand by me?" 
 
 " For the latter question, how can you ask it? " 
 he answered, with a hint of reproach in his voice. 
 " I fear I should stand by you in the wrong, Paul, 
 let alone when, as now, I count you much in the 
 right. I have but to think of Prudence in like 
 case, you see. For the former question why, 
 see, you have time and her own heart on your 
 side. She may be obstinate in that blindness of 
 hers; and you may make blunders with your 
 ancient facility, cousin mine. But I call to mind 
 that trick you ever had of holding on the trick 
 of the English bulldog which you used so to ad- 
 mire. It is a strange streak, that, in a star-wor- 
 shipping, sonnet-writing, wonder-wise freak like 
 you, and makes me often doubt whether your 
 verses, much as I like them, can be poetry, after 
 all. But it is a useful characteristic to have 
 about you, and, to my mind, it means you'll win." 
 
 " If the English don't hang me for a spy," 
 said I.
 
 190 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Stuff! " grunted my cousin. " The maid will 
 look to that." 
 
 Such was my confidence in my cousin Marc's 
 discernment that I went to sleep somewhat com- 
 forted.
 
 Chapter XXVII 
 Dead Days and Withered Dreams 
 
 BUT to me awaking in the raw of the morning, 
 a prisoner, the comfort seemed less sure. 
 All through the weary, soul-sapping weeks that 
 followed, it paled and shrank, till nothing was left 
 of it but a hopeless sort of obstinacy, so rooted in 
 the central fibre-knots of my being that to the 
 very teeth of fate my pulses still kept beating out 
 the vow, " I will win ! I will win ! " 
 
 For cheer, all my cousin's sober and well-con- 
 sidered confidence could not keep that in my 
 heart. Of Yvonne, I could get not one word di- 
 rectly. I saw her hand in the fact that nothing 
 more was heard of the charge of " spy " against 
 me. Yet this benefit had a bitterness in it, for I 
 knew she must have done it through Anderson. 
 Intolerably did that knowledge grate. 
 
 Mother Pche came daily to the wicket, but 
 could never boast a message for my ear and in 
 this reticence of Yvonne's I saw a hardness of re- 
 solve which made my heart sink. Father Fafard, 
 
 191
 
 192 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 too, came daily with food for me, and with many a 
 little loving kindness ; but of Yvonne he would not 
 speak. Marc, one day, encountered him on the 
 subject, but prevailed not at all, in so much that 
 they two parted in some heat. 
 
 At last from Mother Pe~che came word that my 
 dear maid was ill, obscurely ailing, pale-lipped, 
 and with no more of the fathomless light in her 
 great eyes. The reassurance that this gave me on 
 the score of her love was beyond measure over- 
 balanced by the new fear that it bred and nour- 
 ished. Would not the strain become too great for 
 her so great that either her promise to wait 
 would break down, or else her health? Here was 
 a dilemma, and upon one or the other of the horns 
 of it I writhed hourly. It cost little to feed me, 
 those weeks in the Grand Pre chapel prison. 
 
 Meanwhile, it is but just to our English jailers 
 they were men of New England chiefly, from 
 Boston, Plymouth, Salem, and that vicinage 
 to record it of them that they were kind and little 
 loved their employment. They held the doom 
 of banishment to be just, but they deplored the 
 inescapable harshness of it. As I came to learn, 
 it was for New England's sake chiefly, and at 
 her instance, that old England had ordained the 
 great expulsion. Boston would not trust the 
 Acadians, and vowed she could no longer endure 
 a wasp's nest at her door. Thus it was that the
 
 Dead Days and Withered Dreams 193 
 
 decree had at last gone forth ; and even I could 
 not quite deny the justice of it. I knew that 
 patient forbearance had long been tried in vain ; 
 and I bethought me, too, of the great Louis' 
 once plan, to banish and utterly purge away all 
 the English of New England and New York. 
 
 Of affairs and public policy in the world outside 
 our walls I learned from Lieutenant Waldron, who 
 came in often among us and made me his debtor 
 by many kindly courtesies. He had an interest 
 in me from the first in the beginning, as I felt, 
 an interest merely of curiosity, for he doubtless 
 wondered that Mademoiselle de Lamourie should 
 stoop to be entangled with two lovers. But soon 
 he conceived a friendship for me, which I heartily 
 reciprocated. I have ever loved the English as 
 a brave and worthy enemy ; and this young officer 
 from Plymouth town presented to my admiration 
 a fair epitome of the qualities I most liked in his 
 race. In appearance he was not unlike Ander- 
 son, but of slimmer build, with the air of the 
 fighter added, and a something besides which I 
 felt, but could not name. This something Ander- 
 son lacked and the lack was subtly conspicu- 
 ous in a character which even my jealous rivalry 
 was forced to call worthy of love. 
 
 The reservation in my own mind I found to lie 
 in Waldron's also, and with even more conse- 
 quence attached to it. Anderson having chanced
 
 194 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 to be one day the subject of our conversation, I let 
 slip hint of the way it galled me to feel myself in 
 his debt for exemption from the charge of spying. 
 
 " I can easily understand," said he, " that you 
 feel it intolerable. I am surprised, more and 
 more daily, at Mademoiselle de Lamourie's accept- 
 ance of his suit. Oh, you French, may I say 
 it, monsieur? what a merchandise you make of 
 your young girls ! " 
 
 " You put it unpleasantly, sir," said I ; " but 
 too truly for me to resent it. You surprise me, 
 however, in what you imply of Anderson. I liked 
 him heartily at first sight. I know him to be 
 brave, though he does not carry arms. He is 
 capable and clear-sighted, kind and frank; and 
 surely he has beauty to delight a woman's eyes. 
 I am in despair when I think of him." 
 
 " He is all you say," acknowledged Waldron, 
 with a shrewd twinkle in his sharp blue eyes ; 
 " nevertheless there is something he is not, which 
 damns him for me. I don't quite like him, and 
 that's a fact. At the same time I know he's a 
 fine fellow, and I ought to like him. I don't mind 
 telling you, for your discomfort, that he has done 
 all that man could do to get you out of this place. 
 He has been to Halifax about it, and dared to 
 make himself very disagreeable to the governor 
 when he was refused. It is not his fault you are 
 not out and off by this time."
 
 Dead Days and Withered Dreams 195 
 
 " Thank God, he failed ! " said I, with fervour. 
 
 " So should I say in your case, monsieur," he 
 replied, with a kind of dry goodwill. 
 
 To this obliging officer in more kindly after- 
 years, I am proud to say, destined to become my 
 close friend I owed some flattering messages 
 from Madame de Lamourie. I knew she liked me 
 
 had ever liked me, save during those days of 
 my ignominious eclipse when I seemed to all Grand 
 Pre an accomplice of the Black Abbe and Vaurin. 
 I had a suspicion that she would not be deeply 
 displeased should I, by any hook or crook, accom- 
 plish the discomfiture of Anderson. But I well 
 knew her friendliness to me would not go so far as 
 open championship. She would obey her husband, 
 for peace' sake ; and take her satisfaction in a little 
 more delicate malice. I pictured her as making 
 the handsome English Quaker subtly miserable 
 by times. 
 
 From Giles de Lamourie, however, I received 
 no greeting. I took it that he regarded me as a 
 menace not only to his own authority, but to his 
 daughter's peace. A prudent marriage, a reg- 
 ular, well-ordered, decently arranged for marriage, 
 
 in such he fancied happiness for Yvonne. But 
 I concerned me not at all for opposition of his. I 
 thought that Yvonne, if ever she should choose, 
 could bring him to her feet. 
 
 At last there came a break in the monotony of
 
 196 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 the days a break which, for all its bitterness, 
 was welcomed. Word came that another ship was 
 tardily ready for its freight of exiles. The weary 
 faces of the guard brightened, for here was evi- 
 dence that something was being done. Within the 
 chapel rose a hum of expectation, and all spec- 
 ulated on their chances. For if exile was to be, 
 " Let it come quickly " was the cry of all. 
 
 But no not of all. I feared it, with a phys- 
 ical fear till then unknown to me. To me it 
 meant a new and appalling barrier. Here but two 
 wooden walls and a stone's throw of wintry space 
 fenced me from her bodily presence. But after 
 exile, how many seas, and vicissitudes, and uncom- 
 prehending alien faces ! 
 
 But I was not to go this time ; nor yet my cousin 
 Marc, who, having at last received from Quebec 
 authentic word of the health and safety of his 
 Puritan, was looking out upon events with his old 
 enviable calm. 
 
 On the day when a stir in the cottages betokened 
 that embarkation was to begin, the south windows 
 of the chapel were in demand. They afforded a 
 clear view of the village and a partial view of the 
 landing-place. Benches were piled before them, 
 and we took turns by the half hour in looking out, 
 those at the post of observation passing messages 
 back to the eager rows behind. It was plain at 
 once that the cottages at the west end of the
 
 Dead Days and Withered Dreams 197 
 
 village were to be cleared in a block. On a sudden 
 there was a sharp outcry from the three Le Boutil- 
 liers, as they saw their homely house-gear being 
 carried from their doorways and heaped upon a 
 lumbering hay-wagon. They were of a nervous 
 stock, and forthwith began a great lamentation, 
 thinking that their wives and families were to be 
 sent away without them. When the little proces- 
 sion started down the street toward the landing 
 the old grandmother and the two littlest children 
 perched on the wagon-load, the wives and other 
 children walking beside in attitudes that proclaimed 
 their tears the good fellows became so excited as 
 to trouble our company. 
 
 " Chut, men ! " cried Marc, in a tone of sharp 
 command. " Are you become women all at once? 
 There will be no separation of families this time, 
 when there is but one ship and no room for mis- 
 takes. The guards yonder will be calling for you 
 presently, never fear." 
 
 This quieted them ; for my cousin had a con- 
 vincing way with him, and they accounted his 
 wisdom something beyond natural. 
 
 Then there came by two more wagons, and 
 another sorrowful procession, appearing from the 
 direction of the Habitants ; and the word " Le 
 Marchands" went muttering through the prison. 
 Le Marchand settlement was moving to the ship 
 and even now a cloud of black smoke, with red
 
 198 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 tongues visible on the morning air, showed us 
 what would befall the houses of Grand Pre when 
 the folk of Grand Pre should be gone. 
 
 The Le Marchand men made no sign, save to 
 glower under their brows and grip the window 
 sashes with tense fingers. They were of different 
 stuff from the Le Boutilliers, these black Le 
 Marchands. They set their teeth hard, and 
 waited. 
 
 So it went on through the morning, one man 
 after another seeing his family led away to the 
 ship his family and some scant portion of his 
 goods ; and thus we came to know what men 
 among us were like to be called forth on this 
 voyage. 
 
 Presently the big door was thrown open, and all 
 faces flashed about to the new interest. Outside 
 stood a double red line of English soldiers. An 
 officer the round-faced Colonel Winslow him- 
 self stepped in, a scroll of paper curling in his 
 hand. In a precise and something pompous voice 
 he read aloud the names of those to go. The Le 
 Marchands were first on the roll ; then the Le 
 Boutilliers, Ba'tiste Chouan, Jean and Tamin 
 Masson, and a long list that promised to thin 
 our crowded benches by one-third. But I was 
 left among the unsummoned; and my cousin 
 Marc, and long Philibert Trou, and the wily fox 
 La Mouche ; and I saw Marc's lips compress with
 
 Dead Days and Withered Dreams 199 
 
 a significant satisfaction when he saw these two 
 remaining. Vaguely I thought " He has a 
 plan ! " But thereafter, in my gloom, I thought 
 no more of it. 
 
 So these chosen ones marched off between their 
 guards ; and that afternoon the ship went out on 
 the ebb tide with a wind that carried her, white- 
 sailed, around the dark point of Blomidon. Grand 
 Pre chapel prison settled apathetically back to a 
 deeper calm.
 
 Chapter XXVIII 
 The Ships of her Exile 
 
 THE days dragged till December was setting 
 his hoar face toward death, and still delayed 
 the last ships. The jailers grew sour-visaged. 
 From Yvonne came no more word, only the 
 tidings that she was not well, and that her people 
 were troubled for her. Father Fafard's cheery 
 wrinkles at mouth and eyes deepened from cheer 
 to care ; but still his lips locked over the name of 
 Yvonne. 
 
 My hope sank ever lower and lower. That old 
 wound in my head, cured by Grul's searching 
 simples, began to harass me afresh whether 
 from cold, the chapel being but barn-like, or from 
 the circumstance that my heart, ceaselessly gnaw- 
 ing upon itself, gnawed also upon every tissue and 
 nerve. I came strangely close to the ranger La 
 Mouche in those bad days; for though I knew 
 not, nor cared nor dared to ask, his story, I saw 
 in his eyes a something which he, too, doubtless 
 saw in mine. So it came that we sat much 
 
 200
 
 The Ships of her Exile 201 
 
 together, in a black silence. It was not that I 
 loved less than of old my true comrade Marc, but 
 the fact that he possessed where he loved, and 
 could with blissful confidence look forward, set 
 him some way apart from me. Upon La Mouche, 
 with the deep hurt sullen in his eyes, I could look 
 and mutter to myself: 
 
 " Old, wily fox, is your foot, once so free, 
 caught in the snare of a woman?" 
 
 So tortuous a thing in its workings is this red 
 clot of a human heart that I got a kind of per- 
 verted solace out of such thoughts as these. 
 
 At last the tired watchers at our south windows 
 announced two ship in the basin. They came up 
 on the flood, and dropped anchor off the Gaspe- 
 reau mouth. 
 
 " This ends it," I heard Marc say coolly. "All 
 that's left of Grand Pre can go in those two ships." 
 
 To me the words came as a knell for the burial 
 of my last hope. 
 
 The embarkation had now to be pushed with a 
 speed which wrought infinite confusion, for the 
 weather had turned bitter, and it was not possible 
 for women and children to long endure the cold of 
 their dismantled homes. The big wagons, watched 
 by us from our windows, went creaking and rat- 
 tling down the frozen roads. Wailing women, 
 frightened and wondering children, beds, chests, 
 many-colored quilts, bright red and green chairs,
 
 2O2 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 - to us it looked as if all these were tumbled into 
 a narrowing vortex and swept with a piteous indis- 
 criminacy into one ship or the other. The orderly 
 method with which the previous embarkings had 
 been managed was now all thrown to the winds by 
 the fierce necessity for haste. We in the chapel were 
 not left long to watch the scene from the windows. 
 While yet the main street of Grand Pre was dolor- 
 ous with the tears of the women and children, the 
 doors of our prison opened and names were called. 
 I heeded them not; but the sound of my own name 
 pierced my gloom ; and I went out. In the tingling 
 air I awoke a little, to gaze up the hill at the large 
 house where Yvonne had lodged since the parson- 
 age had been taken for a guard-house. No message 
 came to me from those north windows. Then I 
 turned, to find Marc at my side. 
 
 " Courage, cousin mine," he whispered. " We 
 are not beaten yet. Better outside than in there. 
 This much means freedom and, once free, we'll 
 act." 
 
 " No, Marc, I'm not beaten," I muttered. " But 
 it looks as if I were." 
 
 " Chut, man ! " said he crisply. "You couldn't 
 do a better thing to bring her to her senses than 
 you are doing now." 
 
 It was but a few steps down to the lane, and there 
 we found ourselves in a jumble of heaped carts 
 and blue-skirted, weeping women. My head was
 
 The Ships of her Exile 203 
 
 paining me sorely a numb ache that seemed to 
 rise in the core of my brain. But I remember 
 noting with a far-off commiseration the blubbered 
 faces of the women, and their poor little solicitudes 
 for this or that bit of household gear which, from 
 time to time, would fall crashing to the ground 
 from the hastily laden carts. I found spirit to 
 wonder that the tears which had exhausted them- 
 selves over the farewell to fatherland and hearth- 
 side should break out afresh over the cracking of 
 a gilded glass or the shattering of a blue and silver 
 jug. The women's lamentations in a little hardened 
 me, so that my ears ignored them ; but the wide- 
 eyed terrors of the children, their questions unan- 
 swered, their whimpering at the cold that blued their 
 hands, all this pierced me. Tears for the children's 
 sorrow gathered in my heart, till it was nigh to 
 bursting; and this curbed passion of pity, I think, 
 kept my sick body from collapse. It in some 
 way threw me back from my own misery on to my 
 old unroutable resolution. 
 
 " I will win ! " I said in my heart, as we came 
 down upon the wharf at the Gaspereau mouth. 
 " Though there seems to be no more hope, there 
 is life; and while there is life, I hold on." 
 
 When we reached the wharf the ebb was well 
 advanced. The boats could not get near the 
 wharf. Women had to wade ankle-deep in freezing 
 slime to reach them. The slime was churned with
 
 204 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 the struggle of many feet. The stuff from the 
 carts was at times dropped in the ooze, to be re- 
 covered or not as might chance. The soldiers 
 toiled faithfully, and their leggings to the knee 
 were a sorry sight. They were patient, these red- 
 coats, with the women, who often seemed to lose 
 their heads so that they knew not which boat they 
 wanted to go in. To the children every red-coat 
 seemed tender as a mother. For any one, indeed, 
 they would do anything, except endure delay. 
 Haste, haste, haste was all and therefore there 
 was calamitous confusion. While I stood on the 
 wharf awaiting the order to embark, I saw a stout 
 girl in a dark-red stomacher and grey petticoat 
 throw herself screaming into the water where it 
 was about waist deep, and scramble desperately to 
 another boat near by. No effort was made to 
 restrain her. Dripping with tide and slime she 
 climbed over the gunwale; and belike found what 
 she sought, for her cries ceased. Again I noted 
 Marc called my attention to it a small child 
 being passed from one boat to the other, as the 
 two, bound for different ships, were about diverg- 
 ing. The mother had stumbled blindly into one 
 boat while the child had been tossed into the 
 other. In the effort to remedy this oversight 
 the child was dropped into the water between the 
 boats. The screams of the mother were like a 
 knife in our ears. Two sailors went overboard at
 
 The Ships of her Exile 205 
 
 once, but there was some delay ere the little one 
 was recovered. Then we saw its limp body passed 
 in over the boatside ; whether alive or dead we 
 could not judge ; but the screams ceased and our 
 ear-drums blessed the respite. 
 
 With the next boat came our turn ; and I found 
 myself wading down the slope of icy ooze. I 
 heard Marc, just behind me, mutter a careless 
 imprecation upon the needless defiling of his 
 boots. He was ever imperturbable, my cousin, 
 a hot heart, but in steel harness. 
 
 We loaded the roomy long-boat till the gunwale 
 was almost awash. The big oars creaked and 
 thumped in the rowlocks. We moved laboriously 
 out to the ships, which swung on straining cable 
 in the tide. As we came under her black-wall 
 side, with the turbid red-grey current hissing past it, 
 men on deck caught us with grapnels, and we swung, 
 splashing, under the stern. Then, the tide being 
 very troublesome, we were drawn again alongside. 
 
 Marc was at my elbow. " Look ! " he cried, point- 
 ing to the ridge behind the village. I saw a wide- 
 roofed cottage on the crest break into flame. 
 There was a wind up there, though little as yet 
 down here in the valley; and the flames streamed 
 out to westward, the black smoke rolling low and 
 ragged above them. 
 
 " So goes all Grand Pre in a little ! " muttered 
 Marc.
 
 206 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " It is P'tit Joliet's house ! " said I. 
 
 " Yes," said a steady young voice behind me ; 
 and I turned to see Petit Joliet himself, watching 
 with undaunted eyes the burning of his home. 
 " Yes, and it was a fine house. It would have 
 hurt my father sorely, were he alive now, to see it 
 go up in smoke like that." 
 
 " Well, you have a brave heart," said I, liking 
 him well as I saw his firmness. 
 
 " Oh," said he, "the only thing that is troubling 
 me is this shall I find my mother on this ship? 
 They are making mistakes now, these English, in 
 their haste to be done with us. I'm worried." 
 
 " If she is not on board," said my kind Marc, 
 " we'll try and keep a watch on the boats ; and if 
 we see her bound for the wrong ship we'll let the 
 guard know. They want to keep families to- 
 gether, if they can." 
 
 This was Marc, ever careful of others. But his 
 good purpose was like to have been frustrated soon 
 as formed ; for scarce were our feet well on deck 
 when our hands were clapped in irons, and we 
 were marched off straight to the hold. 
 
 " Sorry, sir. Can't help it. So many of you, 
 you know," said the red-coat apologetically, as I 
 stretched out my wrists to him. 
 
 But glancing about the crowded deck I de- 
 scried my good friend, Lieutenant Waldron, busily 
 unravelling the snarl of things. In answer to my
 
 The Ships of her Exile 207 
 
 hail he came at once, warm, friendly, and trying 
 not to see my irons. 
 
 " One last little service, sir ! " I cried. " Little 
 to us, it may be great to others. You see we are 
 ironed, Captain de Mer and I. We will give our 
 word to neither attempt escape nor in any way 
 interfere with this sorry work. Let us two wait 
 here on deck till the ship sails. We know all these 
 villagers ; and we want to help you avoid the 
 severance of families." 
 
 " It is little to grant for you, my friend," said 
 he, in a feeling voice. " You cannot know how 
 my heart is aching. I will speak to the captain 
 of the ship, and you shall stay on deck till the 
 ship sails." 
 
 Marc thanked him courteously, but I with no 
 more than a look, for words did not at that time 
 seem compliant to say what I desired them to say. 
 They are false and treacherous spirits, these words 
 we make so free with and trust so rashly with 
 affairs of life and death. How often do they take an 
 honest meaning from the heart and twist it to the 
 semblance of a lie as it leaves the lips ! How 
 often do they take a flame from the inmost soul, and 
 make it ice before it reaches the soul toward which 
 it thrilled forth ! It has been my calling to work 
 with words in peace, as with swords in time of 
 war; and I know them. I do not trust them. 
 The swords are the safer.
 
 Chapter XXIX 
 The Hour of her Desolation 
 
 RETURNING from a brief word with the ship- 
 captain, a very- broad-bearded, broad- 
 chested man, in a very rough blue coat, 
 Lieutenant Waldron passed us hastily, and signi- 
 fied that it was all right. With this sanction we 
 pushed along the crowded deck in order to gain a 
 post of vantage at the bow. The vessel, whose 
 hold was now to be our new and narrow cage, was 
 one of those ordinarily engaged in the West Indian 
 trade. Our noses told us this. To the savours of 
 fish and tar which clung in her timbers she added 
 a foreign tang of molasses, rum, and coffee. As 
 we stumbled up the cluttered deck, lacking the 
 balance of free hands, these shippy smells were 
 crossed in curious, pathetic fashion by the homely 
 odours of the blankets, clothes, pillows, and other 
 household stuff that lay about waiting for storage. 
 Here a woman sat stolidly upon her own pile, with 
 a mortgage on the future so long as she kept her 
 bedding in possession; and there a youngster, 
 
 208
 
 The Hour of her Desolation 209 
 
 already homesick, for his wide-hearthed cabin, 
 sobbed heavily, with his face buried in an old coat 
 of his father's. 
 
 For hours, in the bitter cold, we held our post 
 in the bow of the ship and watched the boats go 
 back and forth. Of the old mother of Petit Joliet 
 we saw nothing. We judged perforce that she 
 had been moved early and carried to the other 
 ship, which swung at anchor a little up the channel. 
 We were able I say we, though Marc did all, I 
 being, as it were, drowned in my own dejection 
 we were able to be of service in divers instances. 
 When, for example, young Violet was brought 
 aboard with another boat-load from the chapel 
 prison, we made haste to tell the guards that we 
 had seen his mother and sisters taken to the other 
 ship. As a consequence, when the boat went back 
 to the wharf it carried young Violet ; so he and 
 his were not divided in their exile. 
 
 By the very next boat there came to us a black- 
 browed, white-lipped woman, from whose dry eyes 
 the tears seemed all drained out. She carried a 
 babe-at-breast, while two thin little ones clung to 
 her homespun skirt. As soon as she reached the 
 deck she stared around in wild expectation, as if 
 she thought to find her husband waiting to receive 
 her. Not seeing him, she straightway fainted in a 
 heap. It chanced I knew the woman's face. She 
 was the wife of one Caspar Besnard, of Pereau,
 
 2io A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 whom I had seen taken, early in the day, to the 
 other ship. He was conspicuous by reason of 
 having red hair, a marvel in Acadie ; and there- 
 fore my memory had retained him, though he con- 
 cerned me not. Now, however, he did concern 
 me much. A few words to the officer of the guard, 
 and the poor woman, with her children, was trans- 
 ferred to where she doubtless found her husband. 
 
 Such cases justified, in our jailers' eyes, the 
 favour that had been shown us. Meanwhile our 
 ship had filled up. We had seen Long Philibert 
 and La Mouche brought aboard, but had not 
 spoken with them. " Time for that later," Marc 
 had said. I had watched for Petit Joliet's mother ; 
 and I had watched eagerly for old Mother Pche ; 
 but in vain. While yet the boats were plying, 
 heavy laden, between the shore and the other 
 ship, we found ourselves ready for departure. 
 Our boats were swung aboard ; and the English 
 Yeo, heave ho! arose as the sailors shoved on the 
 capstan. Lieutenant Waldron, after an all but 
 wordless farewell, went ashore in the gig with 
 two soldiers. The rest of the red-coats stayed 
 aboard. They had been reenforced by a fresh 
 squad who were marched down late to the land- 
 ing. These, plainly, were to be our guard during 
 the voyage ; and I saw with a sort of vague resent- 
 ment that a tall, foppish exquisite of an officer, 
 known to me by sight, was to command this guard.
 
 The Hour of her Desolation 211 
 
 He was one Lieutenant Shafto, whom we had seen 
 two or three times at the chapel prison ; and I think 
 all disliked him for a certain elaborate loftiness 
 in his air. It came to my mind dimly that I should 
 well rejoice to cross swords with him, and I hinted 
 as much to Marc. 
 
 "Who knows?" said my unruffled cousin; "we 
 may live to see him look less complacent." His 
 smile had a meaning which I could not fathom. 
 I could see no ground for his sanguine satisfaction ; 
 and I dared not question where some enemy 
 might overhear. I thought no more of it, there- 
 fore, but relapsed into my apathy. As we slipped 
 down the tide I saw, in a boat-load just approach- 
 ing the other ship, a figure with a red shawl 
 wrapped round head and shoulders. This gave 
 me a pang, as I had hoped to have Mother P6che 
 with me, to talk to me of Yvonne and help me to 
 build up the refuge of a credulous hope. But 
 since even that was denied me well, it was 
 nothing, after all, and I was a child ! I turned my 
 eyes upon the house, far up the ridge, where the 
 Lamouries had lodging. It was one of four, stand- 
 ing well aloof from the rest of the village ; and I 
 knew they all were occupied by those prudent 
 ones of the neighbourhood who had been wise in 
 time and now stood safe in English favour. The 
 doom of Grand Pre, I knew, would turn aside from 
 them.
 
 212 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 But on the emptied and desolated village it was 
 even now descending. Marc and I, unnoticed in 
 our place, were free to watch. So dire was even 
 yet the confusion on our deck, so busy seamen 
 and soldiers alike, that we were quite forgotten for 
 a time. The early winter dark was gathering upon 
 Blomidon and the farther hills ; but there was to 
 be no dark that night by the mouth of Gaspereau. 
 
 The house of Petit Joliet, upon the hill, burned 
 long alone. It was perhaps a signal to the troops 
 at Piziquid, twenty miles away, telling them that 
 the work at Grand Pre was done. Not till late in 
 the afternoon was the torch set to the village itself. 
 Then smoke arose suddenly on the westernmost 
 outskirts, toward the Habitants dyke. The wind 
 being from the southeast, the fire spread but 
 slowly against it. As the smoke drove low the 
 flames started into more conspicuous brilliance, 
 licking lithely over and under the rolling cloud that 
 strove to smother them. These empty houses 
 burned for the most part with a clear, light flame ; 
 but the barns, stored with hay and straw, vomited 
 angry red, streaked with black. Up the bleak 
 hillside ran the terrified cattle, with wildly tossing 
 horns. At times, even on shipboard, we caught 
 their bellowings. They had been turned loose, of 
 course, before the fires were started, but had 
 remained huddled in the familiar barnyards until 
 this horrible and inexplicable cataclysm drove
 
 The Hour of her Desolation 213 
 
 them forth. Far up the slope we saw them turn 
 and stand at gaze. 
 
 In an hour we observed that the wharf was 
 empty, and the other ship hoisting sail. Then 
 the fires sprang up in every part of the village at 
 once. They ran along the main street below the 
 chapel ; but they came not very near the chapel 
 itself, for all the buildings in its immediate neigh- 
 bourhood had been long ago removed, and it stood 
 in a safe isolation, towering in white solemnity over 
 the red tumult of ruin. 
 
 " The chapel will be a camp to-night, instead of a 
 prison," said Marc at my ear, his grave eyes fixed 
 and wide. " It will be the last thing to go it 
 and the Colony of Compromise yonder up the 
 hill." 
 
 " But who shall blame them for the com- 
 promise?" I protested, unwilling to hear censure 
 that touched the father of Yvonne. 
 
 Marc shrugged his shoulders at this. He never 
 was a lover of vain argument. 
 
 " I wonder where the Black Abbe is at this 
 moment ! " was what he said, with no apparent 
 relevancy. 
 
 " Not yet in his own place, I fear ! " said I. 
 
 " The implication is a pious one," said Marc. 
 " Yonder is the work of him, and of no other. 
 He should be roasting now in the hottest of it." 
 
 I really, at this moment, cared little, and was at
 
 214 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 loss for reply. But a bullying roar of a voice just 
 behind us saved me the necessity of answering. 
 
 " Here, you two ! What are ye doin' here on 
 deck? Git, now ! Git, quick! " 
 
 The speaker was a big, loose-jointed man, ill- 
 favoured and palpably ill-humoured. I was pleased 
 to note that the middle two of his obtrusive front 
 teeth were wanting, and that his nose was so mis- 
 shapen as to suggest some past calamitous experi- 
 ence. As I learned afterwards, this was our ship's 
 first mate. I was too dull of mood too sick, 
 in fact to be instantly wroth at his insolence. 
 I looked curiously at him ; but Marc answered in 
 a quiet voice : 
 
 " Merely waiting here, sir, on parole and by 
 direction, till the proper authorities are ready to 
 take us below ! " And he thrust out his manacled 
 hands to show how we were conditioned. 
 
 " Well, here's proper authority, ye'll find out. 
 Git, er I'll jog ye ! " And he made a motion to 
 take me by the collar. 
 
 I stepped aside and faced him. I looked him 
 in the eyes with a sudden rage so deadly that he 
 must have felt it, for he hesitated. I cared noth- 
 ing then what befell me, and would have smashed 
 him with my iron-locked wrist had he touched me, 
 or else so tripped him and fallen with him that we 
 should have gone overboard together. But he 
 was a brute of some perception, and his hesitancy
 
 The Hour of her Desolation 215 
 
 most likely saved us both. It gave Marc time to 
 shout " Guards ! Guards ! Here ! Prisoner 
 escaping ! " 
 
 Instantly along the red-lit deck came soldiers 
 running three of them. The mate had grabbed 
 a belaying-pin, but stood fingering it, uncertain of 
 his status in relation to the soldiers. 
 
 " Corporal," said Marc ceremoniously to one 
 of them, discerning his rank by the stripes on his 
 sleeve, " pardon the false alarm. There was no 
 prisoner escaping. We were here on parole, by 
 the favour of Lieutenant Waldron as you your- 
 self know, indeed, for we helped you this afternoon 
 in getting scattered families together. But this 
 man we don't know who he is was brutal, and 
 threatening violence in spite of our defenceless 
 state. Please take us in charge ! " 
 
 " Certainly, Captain de Mer," said the man 
 promptly. " I was just about coming for you ! " 
 
 Then he turned to the mate with an air of 
 triumphant aversion, in which lurked, perhaps, a 
 consciousness of conflicting and ill-defined author- 
 ities. 
 
 " No belaying-pins for the prisoners ! " he 
 growled. " Keep them for yer poor swabs o' 
 sailor lads. " 
 
 As we marched down the deck under guard 
 the sails overhead were all aglow, the masts and 
 spars gleamed ruddily. The menacing radiance
 
 2i6 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 was by this time filling the whole heaven, and the 
 small, quick-running surges flashed under it with a 
 sinister sheen. As we reached the open hatch I 
 turned for a last look at Grand Pre. 
 
 The whole valley was now as it were one seething 
 lake of smoke and flame, the high, half-shrouded 
 spire of the chapel rising impregnable on the 
 further brink. The conflagration was fiercest now 
 along the eastern half of the main street, toward 
 the water side. Even at this distance we heard 
 the great-lunged roar of it. High over the chaos, 
 like a vaulted roof upheld by the Gaspereau Ridge, 
 arched an almost stationary covering of smoke- 
 cloud, impenetrable, and red as blood along its 
 under side. The smoke of the burning was carried 
 off toward the Habitants and Canard where 
 there was nothing left to burn. Between the red 
 stillness above and the red turbulence below, apart 
 and safe on their high slope, gleamed the cottages of 
 the Colony of Compromise. With what eyes, I won- 
 dered, does my beloved look out upon this horror? 
 Do they strain sadly after the departing ships or 
 does the Englishman stand by and comfort her? 
 
 As I got clumsily down the ladder the last thing 
 I saw and the picture bit its lines in strange 
 fashion on my memory was the other ship, a 
 league behind us, black-winged against the flame. 
 
 Then the hatch closed down. By the glimmer 
 of a swinging lanthorn we groped our way to a
 
 The Hour of her Desolation 217 
 
 space where we two could He down side by side. 
 Marc wanted to talk, but I could not. There was 
 a throbbing in my head, a great numbness on my 
 heart. In my ears the voice of the Minas waves 
 assailing the ship's timbers seemed to whisper of 
 the end of things. Grand Pre was gone. I was being 
 carried, sick and in chains, to some far-off land of 
 strangers. My beloved was cared for by another. 
 
 " No ! " said I in my heart (I thought at first I 
 had spoken it aloud, but Marc did not stir), 
 " when my foot touches land my face shall turn 
 back to seek her face again, though it be from the 
 ends of earth. It is vain, but I will not give her 
 up. I am not dead yet though hope is ! " 
 
 As I thought the words there came humming 
 through my brain that foolish saying of Mother 
 Pche's. Again I saw her on that spring evening 
 bending over my palm and murmuring " Your 
 heart's desire is near your death of hope /" 
 
 " Here is my death of hope, mother," said I 
 to myself. "But where is my heart's desire?" 
 
 And with that I laughed harshly aloud. 
 
 It was an ill sound in that place of bitterness, 
 and heads were raised to look at me. Marc asked, 
 with a trace of apprehension in his voice : 
 
 " What's the matter, Paul ? Anything to laugh at ? " 
 
 " Myself! " I muttered. 
 
 " The humour of the subject is not obvious," 
 said he curtly.
 
 Chapter XXX 
 A Woman's Privilege 
 
 I DID not sleep that night not one eye-wink 
 in the hold of the New England ship. 
 Neither could I think, nor even greatly suffer. 
 Rather I lay as it were numbly weltering in my 
 despair. What if I had known all that was going 
 on meanwhile in that other ship, a league behind 
 us, sailing under the lurid sky ! 
 
 The events which I am now about to set down 
 were not, as will be seen, matter of my own ex- 
 perience. I tell what I have inferred and what 
 has been told me but told me from such lips 
 and in such fashion that I may indeed be said to 
 have lived it all myself. It is more real to me than 
 if my own eyes had followed it. It is sometimes 
 true that we may see with the eyes of others of 
 one other more vividly than with our own. 
 
 In the biggest house of that " Colony of Com- 
 promise " on the hill the house nearest the 
 chapel prison a girl stood at a south window 
 watching the flames in the village below. The 
 
 218
 
 A Woman's Privilege 219 
 
 flames, at least, she seemed to be watching. What 
 she saw was the last little column of prisoners 
 marching away from the chapel ; and her teeth 
 were set hard upon her under lip. 
 
 She was not thinking; she was simply clarifying 
 a confused resolve. 
 
 White and thin, and with deep purple hollows 
 under her great eyes, she was nevertheless not less 
 beautiful than when, a few months before, joyous 
 mirth had flashed from her every look and gesture, 
 as colored lights from a fire-opal. She still wore 
 on her small feet moccasins of Indian work; but 
 now, in winter, they were of heavy, soft, white car- 
 ibou-skin, laced high upon the ankles, and orna- 
 mented with quaint pattern of red and green 
 porcupine quills. Her skirt and bodice were of 
 creamy woollen cloth ; and over her shoulders, 
 crossed upon her breast and caught in her girdle, 
 was spread a scarf of dark-yellow silk. The little 
 black lace shawl was flung back from her head, 
 and her hands, twisted tightly in the ends of it, 
 were for a wonder quite still tensely still, with 
 an air of final decision. Close beside her, flung 
 upon the back of a high wooden settee, lay a long, 
 heavy, hooded cloak of grey homespun, such as 
 the peasant women of Acadie were wont to wear 
 in winter as an over-garment. 
 
 A door behind her opened, but Yvonne did not 
 turn her head. George Anderson came in. He
 
 22O A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 came to the window, and tried to look into her 
 eyes. His face was grave with anxiety, but 
 touched, too, with a curious mixture of impatience 
 and relief. He spoke at once, in a voice both 
 tender and tolerant. 
 
 "There go the last of them, poor chaps! " he 
 said. " Captain Grande went some hours ago 
 quite early. I pray, dear, that now he is gone 
 to exile indeed, but in safety you will recover 
 your peace of mind, and throw off this morbid 
 mood, and be just a little bit kinder to some 
 people ! " And he tried, with an awkward timidity, 
 to take her hand. 
 
 She turned upon him a sombre, compassionate 
 gaze, but far-off, almost as if she saw him in a 
 dream. 
 
 "Don't touch me just now," she said gently, 
 removing her hand. " I must go out into the 
 pastures for air, I think. All this stifles me ! 
 No, alone, alone!" she added more quickly, in 
 answer to an entreaty in his eyes. " But, oh, I am 
 sorry, so sorry beyond words, that I cannot seem 
 kind to some people ! Good-by." 
 
 She left the room, and closed the door behind 
 her. The door shut smartly. It sounded like a 
 proclamation of her resolve. So that was set- 
 tled ! In an instant her whole demeanour changed. 
 A fire came back into her eyes, and she stepped 
 with her old, soft-swaying lightness. In the room
 
 A Woman's Privilege 221 
 
 which she now entered sat her father and mother. 
 The withered little reminiscence of Versailles 
 watched at a window-side, her black eyes bright 
 with interest, her thin lips slightly curved with an 
 acerb and cynical compassion. But Giles de La- 
 mourie sat with his back to the window, his face 
 heavy and grey. 
 
 " This is too awful ! " he said, as Yvonne came 
 up to him, and, bending over, kissed him on the 
 forehead and the lips. 
 
 " It is like a nightmare ! " she answered. "But, 
 would you believe it, papa, the very shock is doing 
 me good? The suspense that kills 1 But I feel 
 more like myself than I have for weeks. I must 
 go out, breathe, and walk hard in the open." 
 
 De Lamourie's face lightened. 
 
 " Thou art better, little one," said he. " But 
 why go alone at such a time? Where's George? " 
 
 But Yvonne was already at her mother's side, 
 kissing her, and did not answer her father's ques- 
 tion ; which, indeed, needed no answer, as he had 
 himself seen Anderson go into th inner room and 
 not return. 
 
 "But where will you go, child?" queried her 
 mother. " There are no longer any left of your sick 
 and your poor and your husbandless to visit." 
 
 " But I will be my own sick, little mamma," 
 she cried nervously, " and my own poor and 
 my own husbandless. I will visit myself. Don't
 
 222 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 be troubled for me, dearies ! " she added, in a 
 tender voice. " I am so much better already." 
 
 The next moment she was gone. The door 
 shut loudly after her. 
 
 " Wilful ! " said her mother. 
 
 " Yes, more like she used to be. Much 
 better ! " exclaimed Giles de Lamourie, rising 
 and looking out at the fires in a moment of brief 
 absent-mindedness. "Yes, much better, George," 
 he added, as Anderson appeared from the inner 
 room. 
 
 But the Englishman's face was full of discom- 
 fort. " I wish she would not go running out alone 
 this way," said he. 
 
 " Curious that she should prefer to be alone, 
 George," said Madame de Lamourie, with delib- 
 erate malice. She was beginning to dislike this 
 man who so palpably could not give her daughter 
 happiness. 
 
 Yvonne, meanwhile, was speeding across the 
 open fields, in the teeth of the wind. The ground 
 was hard as iron, but there was little snow only 
 a dry, powdery covering deep enough to keep the 
 stubble from hurting her feet. She ran straight 
 for the tiny cabin of Mother Pche, trusting to find 
 her not yet gone. None of the houses at the east- 
 ern end of the village were as yet on fire. That 
 of Mother Pe'che stood a little apart, in a bushy
 
 A Woman's Privilege 223 
 
 pasture-lot. Yvonne found the low door swinging 
 wide, the house deserted ; but there were red 
 embers still on the hearth, whereby she knew the 
 old woman had not been long away. 
 
 The empty house seemed to whisper of fear and 
 grief from every corner. She turned away and ran 
 toward the landing, her heart chilled with a sudden 
 apprehension that she might be too late. Before 
 she was clear of the bushes, however, she stopped 
 with a cry. A man who seemed to have risen out 
 of the ground stood right in her path. He was of 
 a sturdy figure, somewhat short, and clad in dull- 
 coloured homespun of peasant fashion. At sight 
 of her beauty and her alarm his woollen cap was 
 snatched 'from his head and his cunning face took 
 on the utmost deference. 
 
 " Have no fear of me, mademoiselle, Mademoi- 
 selle de Lamourie, if I may hazard a guess from 
 your beauty," said he smoothly. " It is I who am 
 in peril, lest you should reveal me to my enemies." 
 
 "Who are you, monsieur?" she asked, recover- 
 ing her self-possession and fretting to be gone. 
 
 " A spy," he whispered, " in the pay of the 
 King of France, who must know, to avenge them 
 later, the wrongs of his people here in Acadie. I 
 have thrown myself on your mercy, that I might ask 
 you if the families who have found favour with the 
 English will remain here after this work is done, 
 or be taken elsewhere. I pray you inform me."
 
 224 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Believe me, I do not know their plans, mon- 
 sieur," answered Yvonne. " And I beg you to let 
 me pass, for my haste is desperate." 
 
 " Let me escort you to the edge of the bush, then, 
 mademoiselle," said he courteously, stepping from 
 the path. " And not to delay you, I will question 
 you as we go, if you will permit. Is the English- 
 man, Monsieur George Anderson, still here?" 
 
 " He is, monsieur. But now leave me, I entreat 
 you." 
 
 She was wild with fear lest the stranger's pres- 
 ence should frustrate her design. 
 
 The man smiled. 
 
 " I dare go no farther with you than the field 
 edge, mademoiselle," said he regretfully. "To be 
 caught would mean " and he put his hand to his 
 throat with ghastly suggestion. 
 
 Relieved from this anxiety, Yvonne paused when 
 she reached the open. 
 
 " I must ask you a question in turn, monsieur," 
 said she. " Have you chanced to learn on which 
 of the two ships Captain de Mer and Captain 
 Grande were placed?" 
 
 " I have been so fortunate," replied the stranger, 
 and the triumph in his thought found no expression 
 in his deferential tone or deep-set eyes. Here was 
 the point he had been studying to approach. Here 
 was a. chance to worst a foe and win favour from 
 the still powerful, though far-distant, Black Abbe.
 
 A Woman's Privilege 225 
 
 He paused, and Yvonne had scarce breath to 
 cry "Which? " 
 
 " They are in the ship this way," he said 
 calmly. " The one still at anchor." 
 
 " Thank you, monsieur ! " she cried, with a 
 passion in the simple words ; and was straightway 
 off across the red-lit snow, her cloak streaming 
 out behind her. 
 
 " The beauty ! " said the man to himself, lurking 
 in the bushes to follow her with his eyes. " Pity 
 to lie to her. But she's leaving and that stabs 
 Anderson ; and she's going on the wrong ship 
 and that stabs Grande. Both at a stroke. Not 
 bad for a day like this." 
 
 And with a look of hearty satisfaction on his 
 face Le Furet 1 (for Vaurin's worthy lieutenant it 
 was) withdrew to safer covert. 
 
 Le Furet smiled to himself; but Yvonne almost 
 laughed aloud as she ran, deaf to the growing roar 
 at the farther end of the village and heedless of 
 the flaring crimson that made the air like blood. 
 The wharf, when she reached it, was in a final spasm 
 of confusion, and shouted orders, and sobbings. 
 Now, she grew cautious. Drawing her cloak close 
 about her face, she pushed through the crowd 
 toward the boat. 
 
 Just then a firm hand was laid upon her arm, 
 
 1 None of Vaurin's villains were taken by the English at the time of 
 the great capture, for none dared come within a league of an English 
 proclamation lest it should turn into a rope to throttle them. P. G.
 
 226 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 and a very low voice said in her ear, with less 
 surprise, to be sure, than on a former occasion by 
 Gaspereau lower ford, 
 
 " You here, Mademoiselle de Lamourie? " 
 
 Her heart stood still ; and she turned upon him 
 a look of such imploring, desperate dismay that 
 Lieutenant Waldron without another word drew 
 her to one side. Then she found voice. 
 
 " Oh, if yo have any mercy, any pity, do not 
 betray me," she whispered. 
 
 " But what does this mean ? It is my duty to 
 ask," he persisted, still puzzled. 
 
 " I am trying to save my life, my soul, everything, 
 before it's too late ! " she said. 
 
 " Oh," said he, comprehending suddenly. 
 " Well, I think you had better not tell me any- 
 thing more. I think it is not my duty to say any- 
 thing about this meeting. You may be doing 
 right. I wish you good fortune and good-by, 
 mademoiselle ! " and, to her wonder, he was off 
 among the crowd. 
 
 Still trembling from the encounter, she hastened 
 to the boat. 
 
 She found it already half laden ; and in the 
 stern, to her delight, she saw Mother Pe'che's red 
 mantle. She was on the point of calling to her, 
 but checked herself just in time. The boat was 
 twenty paces from the wharf-edge ; and those 
 twenty paces were deep ooze, intolerable beyond
 
 A Woman's Privilege 227 
 
 measure to white moccasins. Absorbed in her 
 one purpose, which was to get on board the ship 
 without delay, she had not looked to one side or the 
 other, but had regarded women, children, soldiers, 
 boatmen, as so many bushes to be pushed through. 
 Now, however, letting her hood part a little from 
 her face, she glanced hither and thither with her 
 quick imperiousness, and then from her feet to 
 that breadth of slime, as if demanding an instant 
 bridge. The next thing she knew she was lifted by 
 a pair of stout arms and carried swiftly through 
 the mud to the boat-side. 
 
 After a moment's hot flush of indignation at 
 the liberty, she realized that this was by far the 
 best possible solution of the problem, as there 
 was no bridge forthcoming. She looked up grate- 
 fully, and saw that her cavalier was a big red-coat, 
 with a boyish, jolly face. As he gently set her 
 down in the boat she gave him a radiant look 
 which brought the very blood to his ears. 
 
 " Thank you very much indeed ! " she said, in 
 an undertone. " I don't know how I should have 
 managed but for your kindness. But really it is 
 very wrong of you to take such trouble about me ; 
 for I see these other poor things have had to wade 
 through the mud, and their skirts are terrible." 
 
 The big red-coat stood gazing at her in open- 
 mouthed adoration, speechless ; but a comrade, 
 busy in the boat stowing baggage, answered for him.
 
 228 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " That's all right, miss," said he. " Don't you 
 worry about Eph. He's been carryin' children all 
 day long, an' some few women because they was 
 sick. He's arned the right to carry one woman 
 jest fer her beauty." 
 
 In some confusion Yvonne turned away, very 
 fearful of being recognized. She hurriedly 
 squeezed herself down in the stern by Mother 
 Pche. The old dame's hand sought hers, fur- 
 tively, under the cloak. 
 
 " I went to look for you, mother," she whis- 
 pered into the red shawl. 
 
 " I knew you'd come, poor heart, dear heart ! " 
 muttered the old woman, with a swift peering of her 
 strange eyes into the shadow of the girl's hood. 
 
 " I waited for you till they dragged me away. 
 But I knew you'd come." 
 
 " How did you know that, mother? " whispered 
 Yvonne, delighted to find that this momentous act 
 of hers had seemed to some one just the expected 
 and inevitable thing. " Why, I didn't know it my- 
 self till half an hour ago." 
 
 Mother Pche looked wise and mysterious. 
 
 " I knew it," she reiterated. " Why, dear heart, 
 I knew all along you loved him." 
 
 And at last, strange as it may appear, this 
 seemed to Yvonne de Lamourie, penniless, going 
 into exile with the companionship of misery, an 
 all-sufficient and all-explicative answer.
 
 Chapter XXXI 
 Young Will and Old Wisdom 
 
 MOTHER PCHE lived to do good deeds, 
 and loved to think she did them from an 
 ill motive. Her witchcraft, devoutly believed in 
 by herself, and by a good half of Grand Pre as 
 well, was never known to curse, but ever to bless ; 
 yet its white magic she called black art. There 
 was no one sick, there was no one sorrowful, there 
 was no child in all Grand Pre, but loved her ; yet 
 it was her whim to believe herself feared, and in 
 hourly peril of anathema. Even Father Fafard, 
 whom she affected to deride, but in truth vastly 
 reverenced, found it hard to maintain a proper 
 show of austerity toward this incomprehensible 
 old woman. 
 
 The boat, soon loaded, went dragging through 
 the flame-lit tide toward the ship. The old dame 
 sat clutching Yvonne's hand under the warm pri- 
 vacy of the cloak. Here was a weight off her mind. 
 She loved Yvonne de Lamourie and Paul Grande 
 better than any one else in the world ; and with 
 
 229
 
 230 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 all her heart she believed that to hold them apart 
 would mean ruin to others in the end, as well as 
 to themselves. This which had now come about 
 (she had trembled lest Yvonne should not prove 
 quite strong enough at the last) seemed to her the 
 best exit from a bad closure. Anderson she had 
 ever regarded with hostile and unreasoning con- 
 tempt; and now it suited her whim to tell herself 
 that a part of her present satisfaction lay in the 
 thought of him so ignominiously thwarted. But 
 in very truth she believed that the thwarting was 
 for his good ; that he would recover from his hurt 
 in time, and see himself well saved from the life- 
 long mordancy of a loveless marriage. In a word, 
 what Mother Pche wanted was the good of those 
 she loved, and as little ill as might be to those 
 she accounted enemies. 
 
 Though the boat was packed with intimates of 
 hers, she was absorbed in studying so much of 
 Yvonne's face as could be seen through the half- 
 drawn hood. " She is, indeed, much better al- 
 ready," said the old dame to herself. " This was 
 the one medicine." 
 
 Yvonne, for her part, had no eyes but for the 
 ship she was approaching. Eagerly she scanned 
 the bulwarks. Women's heads, and children's, she 
 saw in plenty; but no men, save the sailors and a 
 few red-coats. 
 
 " Are none of the are there no men on this
 
 Young Will and Old Wisdom 231 
 
 ship? " she whispered to Mother Pche, in a sud- 
 den awful doubt. 
 
 " But think, cherie" muttered the old woman, 
 " these men are dangerous. Would they be left 
 on deck like women and children? But no, indeed. 
 They are in the hold, surely; and in irons belike. 
 But they are there or on the other ship," she 
 added uneasily in her heart. 
 
 By this the boat was come to the ship-side. By 
 some one's carelessness it was not rightly fended, 
 and was suffered to bump heavily. One gunwale 
 dipped; an icy flood poured in; there was immi- 
 nent peril of swamping. 
 
 Women jumped up with screams, and chil- 
 dren caught at them, terror-stricken by the 
 looming black wall of the ship's side. The 
 boat-men cursed fiercely. The two soldiers in 
 the boat shouted : " Sit down ! damn you ! sit 
 down ! " with such authority that all obeyed 
 at once. The shrill clamour ceased ; the peril 
 was over; the embarkation went on. Mother 
 Pche, with nerves of steel, had but gripped the 
 more firmly upon Yvonne's hand. As for 
 Yvonne, she had apparently taken no note of 
 the disturbance. 
 
 Driven by a consuming purpose, which had 
 gathered new fuel from the picture of the fettered 
 captives in the hold, Yvonne had no sooner 
 reached the deck than she started off to find the
 
 232 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 captain. But Mother Pche was at her elbow on 
 the instant, clinging to her. 
 
 " I must see the captain at once ! " exclaimed 
 Yvonne, " and make some inquiry find out 
 something! " 
 
 " Yes, cherie" whispered the old dame, with 
 loving irony, " and get yourself recognized, and 
 be taken back next boat to Monsieur George 
 Anderson." 
 
 The girl's head drooped. She saw how near 
 she had been to undoing herself through impa- 
 tience. She submissively followed the red shawl 
 to a retired place near the bow of the ship. There 
 the two settled themselves into a warm nest of 
 beds and blankets, wherefrom they could watch 
 the end of the embarking. But what more 
 engrossed their eyes was the end of Grand Pre ; 
 for by now the sea of fire was roaring over more 
 than half the village, the whole world seemed 
 awash with ruddy air, and the throbs of scorching 
 heat, even at their distance and with the wind 
 blowing from them, made them cover their faces 
 from time to time and marvel if this could be a 
 December night. 
 
 Fascinated by the monstrous roar, the mad red 
 light, the rolling level canopy of cloud, the old 
 woman sat a long time silent, her startling eyes 
 very wide open, her hawk face set in rigid lines. 
 But the lines softened, the eyes filmed suddenly,
 
 " But what more engrossed their eyes was the end of 
 Grand Pre."
 
 Young Will and Old Wisdom 233 
 
 at a sound close beside her. Yvonne had buried 
 her face in a coloured quilt, and was sobbing 
 tempestuously. 
 
 " It is well ! It had to come ! It was just a 
 pulling of herself up by the roots to leave her 
 father and mother, poor heart ! " thought the old 
 woman to herself. Then after a few minutes, she 
 said aloud : 
 
 " That is right, dear heart ! Cry all you can. 
 Cry it all out. You have held it back too long." 
 
 " Oh, how could I leave them so? How could 
 I be so cruel?" moaned the girl, catching her 
 breath at every word or two. " They will die of 
 sorrow, I know they will ! " 
 
 " No, cherie, they will not die of sorrow," said 
 the old dame softly. " They will grieve ; but 
 they have each other. And they will see you 
 again ; and they will know you are safe, with your 
 husband" she finished slowly. 
 
 Yvonne was silent at the word ; but it was not 
 repeated, though she listened for it. 
 
 "But how will they know I am safe?" she 
 asked. 
 
 " Because," said the old woman, rising nimbly 
 to her feet, " the sailors are getting up the anchor 
 now, and there is the last boat returning to the 
 land. I go to send word by them, saying where 
 you are. It is too late for any one to follow you 
 now."
 
 234 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 She went to the side of the ship, and called to 
 the boat as it rowed away : 
 
 " Will you have the goodness, gentlemen, to 
 send word to Monsieur de Lamourie that his 
 daughter is safe and well, and that she has of her 
 own choice gone into exile for a reason which he 
 will understand ; but that she will come back, with 
 love, when things are something changed?" 
 
 The boat stopped, and the soldiers listened with 
 astonishment to this strange message. There was 
 a moment of indecision, and she trembled lest the 
 boat should put back. But there was no one 
 aboard with authority to thwart the will of Made- 
 moiselle de Lamourie, so a doubtful voice cried : 
 
 " The message shall be delivered." 
 
 The oars dipped again, and the boat ran swiftly 
 toward the landing ; and the ship sped smoothly 
 out with the tide. 
 
 The hawk face in the red shawl hurried back to 
 Yvonne. The girl, sorely overwrought, had once 
 more buried her head in the quilt, that she might 
 the more unrestrainedly give way to her tears. 
 Though she had no least dream of going back, 
 nevertheless the sending of the message, and the 
 realization that the ship was actually under way, had 
 overwhelmed her. Moreover, it had been for 
 weeks that she had endured the great strain dry- 
 eyed, her breast anguished for the relief of tears. 
 Now that the relief had come, however, it threat-
 
 Young Will and Old Wisdom 235 
 
 ened to grow excessive, too exhausting in its 
 violence. Mother Pe~che sat beside her, watching 
 for a while in silence. Then she r.eemed to think 
 the passionate outburst should be checked. But 
 she was far too wise to say so. 
 
 " That's right, dearie," murmured the subtle 
 old dame at the girl's ear. "Just cry as hard as 
 you like, if it does you good. There's so many 
 women crying on this ship, poor souls, that you're 
 no ways noticeable." 
 
 So many women crying ! True, they had not 
 the same to cry about that she had, but Yvonne 
 felt that her grief was suddenly cheapened. She 
 must try to be less weak than those others. With 
 an obstinate effort she strangled her sobs. Her 
 shoulders heaved convulsively for a minute or two, 
 and then, with a strong shudder, she sat up, 
 throwing back her deep hair and resolutely dash- 
 ing the tears from her eyes. 
 
 "What a fool I am, mother!" she cried. 
 " Here am I, where, after weeks of dreadful think- 
 ing, I deliberately made up my mind to be. And 
 I do not repent my decision no, not for one 
 instant. It had to be. Yet why, I'm acting 
 just like a baby ! But now I'm done with tears, 
 mother. You shall see that I am strong enough 
 for what I've undertaken." 
 
 " Of course you are, dear heart ! " said the old 
 woman softly. " The bravest of us women must
 
 236 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 have our cry once in a while, or something is sure 
 to go wrong inside of us." 
 
 " And now hadn't I better find the captain, and 
 ask who's on board?" cried Yvonne, springing 
 lightly to her feet, and no longer troubling to keep 
 the hood about her face. 
 
 " But no, cherie! " urged the old woman. " Don't 
 you see how every one is still busy, and shouting, 
 and cursing, and unpleasant? This is not the time. 
 Wait just a little. And tell me, now, how you got 
 away." 
 
 Yvonne sat down again, and told the whole 
 story, vividly, with light in her eyes, and with 
 those revealing gestures of her small hands. The 
 old woman's face darkened at the tale of the spy. 
 
 " And so you see, mother," she concluded, 
 " I feel very confident that he is in this ship 
 for the man could have no reason to lie to me 
 about it. I am sure from his face that he is the 
 kind of man to do nothing without a reason." 
 
 " Tell me what he looked like, cherie! " said the 
 old woman, the whites of her eyes flashing nervously. 
 
 Yvonne described him she made him stand 
 there on the deck before them. Mother Pche 
 knew that picture well. Le Furet was one of the 
 few living creatures she feared. She rose to her 
 feet, and involuntarily cast an eager look in the 
 direction of the other ship, whose sails, a league 
 away, shone scarlet in that disastrous light.
 
 Young Will and Old Wisdom 237 
 
 " What is the matter?" asked Yvonne, in swift 
 alarm. 
 
 " My old legs need stretching. I was too long 
 still," said Mother Pe~che. 
 
 " No, you are troubled at something. Tell me 
 at once," cried Yvonne, rising also, and letting her 
 cloak drop. 
 
 "Yes, cherie, yes!" answered the old woman, 
 much agitated, and not daring to deceive her. " I 
 am much troubled. That was Le Furet, Vaurin's 
 man, whom Captain Grande knocked down that 
 day at the forge. He would do anything. He 
 would lie even to you ! " 
 
 Yvonne grew pale to the lips. 
 
 "Then you think Paul is not" she began, in 
 a strained voice. 
 
 " I think he may not be in this ship," interrupted 
 Mother Pche hurriedly. " But I'll go right now 
 and find out. Wait here for me." And she went off 
 briskly, poking through the confusion with her staff. 
 
 She knew men, this old dame ; and she quickly 
 found out what she wanted to find out. Trembling 
 with apprehension, she came back to Yvonne 
 and went straight to the point. 
 
 " No, no, dear heart ! " she began. " He is 
 not here. He is on the other ship yonder. I 
 have a plan, though " 
 
 But there was no use going on ; for Yvonne 
 had dropped in a faint.
 
 Chapter XXXII 
 
 Aboard the " Good Hope " 
 
 MOTHER PECHE was not alarmed, but, like 
 the shrewd strategist she was, made haste 
 to turn the evil to good account. She sum- 
 moned a soldier by excellent chance that same 
 boyish-faced, tall fellow who had so patly aided 
 at the embarking ; and he with the best will in the 
 world and a fluttering in his breast carried Yvonne 
 straight to the captain's cabin, where he laid her 
 upon the berth. Then, at Mother Pche's request, 
 he went to beg the captain's presence for an in- 
 stant in his cabin. 
 
 The ship was now well under way, directed by a 
 pilot who knew the shoals and bars of Minas. The 
 business of stowing baggage was in the hands of 
 petty officers. The captain could be spared for a 
 little ; and without doubt the soldier's manner pro- 
 claimed more clearly than words that here was no 
 affair of a weeping peasant. To such the captain 
 would just now have turned a deaf ear, for he had 
 all day been striving to harden his heart against the 
 
 238
 
 Aboard the " Good Hope " 239 
 
 sight of sorrows which he could not mitigate. He 
 was an iron-grey, close-bearded man, this New 
 England captain, with a stern mouth and half- 
 shut, twinkling eyes. Rough toward men, he was 
 gentle toward women, children, and animals. His 
 name was John Stayner; and in Machias, Maine, 
 whence he hailed, he had a motherless daughter 
 of eighteen, the core of his heart, who was com- 
 monly said to rule him as the moon rules ocean. 
 When John Stayner went to the cabin and saw 
 Yvonne in his berth, her white eyelids just stirring 
 to the first return of consciousness, there was small 
 need of Mother Pe'che's explanations. The girl's 
 astonishing loveliness, her gentle breeding, the 
 plain signals of her distress, all moved him beyond 
 his wont. He straightway saw his own dark-haired 
 Essie in like case and forthwith, stirred by that 
 fine chivalry which only a strong man far past 
 youth can know, he was on Yvonne's side, though 
 all the world should be against'her. 
 
 As if their low voices were remote and speaking 
 in a tongue but half understood, Yvonne heard 
 them talking of her the old woman explaining 
 swiftly, concisely, directly; the New Englander 
 speaking but now and then a word of comprehen- 
 sion. His warmth reached Yvonne's heart. She 
 opened her great eyes wide, and looked up into 
 the man's face with a trustful content. 
 
 His own eyes filled in response. To him it was
 
 240 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 much the look of his Essie. He touched her hand 
 with his rough fingers, and said hastily, "This cabin 
 is yours, Miss Mademoiselle de Lamourie, I 
 mean, so long as you are on this ship. Good-night. 
 I have much to do. Take care of her," he added, 
 with a sudden tone of authority, turning to Mother 
 Pe~che. " To-morrow, when we are clear of these 
 shoals and eddies, we'll see what can be done." 
 
 And before Yvonne could control her voice or 
 wits to thank him, he was away. 
 
 She turned shining eyes upon the old woman. 
 
 "What makes him so kind?" she murmured, 
 still half bewildered. "And what will he do?" 
 
 " He is a good man," said Mother Pche, with 
 decision. " I believe he will send us in a boat to 
 the other ship, at the very first chance." 
 
 Yvonne's face grew radiant. She was silent with 
 the thought for a few minutes. Then she glanced 
 about the cabin. 
 
 "How did I come here?" she asked, raising 
 herself on her elbow'. 
 
 " This is the captain's own cabin, cherie" said the 
 old woman, with triumph in her voice. " And a 
 big, boy-faced red-coat carried you here, at my 
 request, and looked as if he'd like to keep on carry- 
 ing you forever." 
 
 " I cannot sleep now, mother ! " exclaimed the 
 girl, slipping out of the berth and drawing the 
 woollen cloak about her. " Let us go on deck
 
 Aboard the " Good Hope " 241 
 
 awhile. Morning will come the more quickly 
 so." 
 
 " Yes, to be sure. And I would look a last look 
 on Grand Pre, if only on the flames of its dear 
 roofs," agreed the old woman, obediently 
 smothering a deep yawn. In truth, now that 
 things bade fair to work her will, she wanted nothing 
 so much as a good sleep. But whatever Yvonne 
 wanted was the chief thing in her eyes. The two 
 went on deck, and huddled themselves under the 
 lee of the cabin, for there was a bitter wind blow- 
 ing, and the ship was too far from Grand Pre now 
 to feel the heat of the conflagration. The roaring 
 of it, too, was at this distance diminished to a huge 
 but soft sub-bass, upon which the creaking of 
 cordage, the whistling of the wind, the slapping of 
 the thin-crested waves, built up a sort of bitter, 
 singing harmony which thrilled Yvonne's ears. 
 The whole village was now burning, a wide and 
 terrifying arc of flame from the Gaspereau banks 
 to the woodland lying toward Habitants. Above 
 it towered the chapel, a fixed serenity amid destruc- 
 tion. It held Yvonne's eyes for a while ; but soon 
 they turned away, to follow the lit sails of the other 
 ship, now fleeting toward the foot of Blomidon. At 
 last, with a shiver, she said to her sleepy companion : 
 
 " Come, mother, let us go back into the cabin and 
 sleep, and dream what morning may bring to pass."
 
 242 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 That of all which morning should bring to pass 
 nothing might be missed, Yvonne was up and out 
 on deck at the earliest biting daylight. She found 
 the ship already well past Blomidon, the vale of 
 desolation quite shut from view. To west and 
 north the sky was clear, of a hard, steely pallor. 
 The wind was light, but enough to control the 
 dense smoke which still choked the greater half of 
 the heavens. It lay banked, as it were, sluggishly 
 and blackly revolving itself along the wooded ridge 
 that runs southward from Blomidon. Straight 
 ahead, across a wintry reach of sea, sped the other 
 ship, with all sail set. It seemed to Yvonne's eyes 
 that she was much farther ahead than the night 
 before, and sailing with a dreadful swiftness. 
 
 " Oh, we can never catch up ! " she cried, press- 
 ing one hand to her side and throwing back her 
 head with a half-despairing gesture. 
 
 Mother Pche, who had just come on deck, 
 looked troubled. " We do certainly seem to be 
 no nearer," she agreed reluctantly. 
 
 At this moment the captain came up, smiling 
 kindly. He took Yvonne's hand. 
 
 " I hope you have slept, mademoiselle, and are 
 feeling better," he said. 
 
 " Yes, monsieur, thanks to your great kindness," 
 answered Yvonne, trying to smile, " but is not 
 the other ship getting very far ahead ? She seems 
 to sail much faster than we do."
 
 Aboard the " Good Hope " 243 
 
 " On the contrary, my dear young lady," said 
 John Stayner, "the 'Good Hope' is much the 
 faster ship of the two. We shall overhaul them, 
 with this breeze, one hour before noon." 
 
 " Will we ? " cried Yvonne, with other questions 
 crowding into her eyes and voice. 
 
 The stern mouth smiled with understanding kind- 
 ness. 
 
 " If we do not, I promise you I will signal them 
 to wait," said he. " I find three families on this 
 ship whose men-folk are on the other. It was 
 great carelessness on some one's part. I will 
 send them in the boat with you, mademoiselle, 
 and gather in as many blessings as I can out of 
 this whole accursed business." 
 
 "As long as I live, monsieur, there will be 
 one woman at least ever blessing you and pray- 
 ing for your happiness." And suddenly seizing 
 his hand in both of hers Yvonne pressed it to her 
 lips. 
 
 A look of boyish embarrassment came over his 
 weather-beaten face. 
 
 " Don't do that, child ! " he stammered. Then, 
 looking with a quizzical interest at the spot she had 
 kissed, he went on : " This old hand is something 
 rough and tarry for a woman's lips. But do you 
 know, now, I kind of think more of it, rough as it 
 is, than I ever did before. If ever, child, you 
 should want a friend in that country of ours you're
 
 244 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 going to, remember that Captain John Stayner, of 
 Machias, Maine, is at your call." 
 
 To escape thanks he strode off abruptly, with a 
 loud order on his lips. 
 
 Easy in her mind, Mother Pe:che went back to 
 capture a little more sleep, Yvonne's restlessness 
 having roused her too early. As for Yvonne, she 
 never knew quite how that morning, up to the 
 magical period of " one hour before noon," man- 
 aged to drag its unending minutes through. It is 
 probable that she ate some pretence of a break- 
 fast ; but her memory, at least, retained no record 
 of it. All she remembered was that she sat 
 huddled in her cloak, or paced up and down the 
 deck and talked of she knew not what to the kind 
 Captain John Stayner, and watched the space of 
 sea between the ships slowly slowly slowly 
 diminish. 
 
 For diminish it did. That marvel, as it seemed 
 to her, actually took place as even the watched 
 pot will boil at last, if the fire be kept burning. 
 While it yet wanted more than an hour of noon, 
 the two ships came near abreast ; and at an im- 
 perative hail from the " Good Hope " her consort 
 hove to. A boat was quickly lowered away. 
 Four sailors took the oars. Two women surrounded 
 by children of all sizes were swung down into it ; 
 then the gratefully ejaculating old mother of Petit 
 Joliet, the tear-stains of a sleepless night still salty
 
 Aboard the " Good Hope " 245 
 
 in the wrinkles of her smiles ; then Mother Pche, 
 serene in the sense of an astonishing good fortune 
 for those she loved ; last of all, Yvonne she 
 went last, for self-discipline. 
 
 As Captain John Stayner moved to hand her 
 over the side, she turned and looked him in the 
 eyes. The words she wanted to say simply would 
 not come or she dared not trust her voice; but 
 the radiance of her look he carried in his heart 
 through after-years. A minute more, and the 
 boat dropped astern ; and Yvonne's eyes were all 
 for the other ship. But Mother Pe"che looked 
 back ; and she saw, leaning hungrily over the 
 taffrail of the " Good Hope," the long form of the 
 boy-faced soldier who had twice carried Yvonne 
 in his fortunate arms.
 
 Chapter XXXIII 
 The Divine Right of Queens 
 
 WHEN Yvonne stood at last upon the deck 
 of the ship of her desire, her heart, with- 
 out warning, began a far too vehement gratulation. 
 Her cloak oppressed her. She dropped it, and 
 stood leaning upon Mother Pe'che's shoulder. She 
 grew suddenly pale, breathing with effort ; and one 
 hand caught at her side. 
 
 The apparition made a wondrous stir on deck. 
 To those who had ever heard of such a being, it 
 appeared that the Witch of the Moon, in all the in- 
 describable magic of her beauty, had been trans- 
 lated into flesh. Men seemed upon the instant to 
 find an errand to that quarter of the ship. Captain 
 Eliphalet Wrye, who had been watching with great 
 unconcern a transfer whose significance seemed 
 to him quite ordinary, came forward in haste, eager 
 to do the honours of his ship, and marvelling 
 beyond measure at such a guest. Captain Elipha- 
 let had traded much among the French of Aca- 
 die and New France. He knew well the difference 
 
 246
 
 The Divine Right of Queens 247 
 
 between the seigneurial and the habitant classes ; 
 and this knowledge was just what he needed to 
 make his bewilderment complete. 
 
 " Here's the captain of the ship coming to see 
 you, cherie! " whispered Mother Pe'che, squeezing 
 the girl's arm significantly. Yvonne steadied her- 
 self with an effort, and turned a brilliant glance 
 upon this important stranger. With his rough 
 blue reefing-jacket, extremely broad shoulders, and 
 excessively broad yellow-brown beard, Captain 
 Eliphalet looked to her just as she thought a 
 merchant-captain ought to look. She therefore 
 approved of him, and awaited his approach with a 
 smile that put him instantly at ease. As he came 
 up, however, hat in hand and with considered 
 phrases on his lips, the old woman forestalled him. 
 
 " Let me present you, Monsieur le Capitaine," 
 said she, stepping forward with a courtesy, " to my 
 mistress, Mademoiselle de Lamourie, of Lamourie 
 Place." 
 
 " It is but ashes, alas ! monsieur," interrupted 
 Yvonne, holding out her hand. 
 
 " The ship is yours, Mademoiselle de Lamou- 
 rie ! " he exclaimed, and bowed with a gesture of 
 relinquishing everything to her command. It was 
 not for nothing Captain Eliphalet had visited Mon- 
 treal and Quebec. 
 
 Yvonne dropped her lids for a second, and shook 
 her head rebukingly.
 
 248 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " That is not English, monsieur," she protested, 
 " but it is very nice of you. I should not know 
 what to do with a ship just now; but I like our 
 little pleasant French fictions." 
 
 Captain Eliphalet, however, could be French for 
 a moment only. 
 
 " But you, mademoiselle, you how comes such 
 a one as you to be sailing away into exile? " 
 
 Yvonne's long lashes drooped again, and this 
 time did not rise so quickly. 
 
 " I have reason to think, monsieur," she answered 
 gravely, " that dear friends and kinsfolk of mine 
 are on this ship, themselves going, fettered, into 
 exile. I could not stay behind and let them go 
 so. But enough of myself, monsieur, for the 
 present," she went on, speaking more rapidly. 
 " I want to ease the anxieties of these poor souls 
 who have come with me. Is there among your 
 prisoners a young man known as ' Petit Joliet' ? 
 Here is his mother come to look for him." 
 
 Captaki Eliphalet summoned a soldier who stood 
 near, and put the question to him in English. 
 
 " There is one by the name of Franse Joliet on 
 the roll, captain," answered the red-coat, saluting. 
 
 " That's he ! That's my boy ! " cried his mother, 
 catching the name. She had been waiting close 
 by with a strained, fixed face, which now went 
 to pieces in a medley of smiles and tears, like a 
 reflection on still water suddenly broken. She
 
 The Divine Right of Queens 249 
 
 clutched Yvonne's hands, blessed and kissed them, 
 and then rushed off vaguely as if to find Petit 
 Joliet in durance behind some pile of ropes or 
 water-butt. 
 
 "And Lenoir Tamin Lenoir," continued 
 Yvonne, her voice thrilling with joy over her task, 
 " and Michel Savarin. Are they, too, in the 
 hold?" 
 
 " Yes, miss," said the soldier, saluting again, 
 and never taking his eyes from her face. She 
 turned to the two women in their restless fringe of 
 clingers ; and they, more sober because more 
 hampered in their delight, thanked her devoutly, 
 and moved off to learn what more they could 
 elsewhere. 
 
 Meanwhile another figure had drawn near a 
 figure not unknown to Yvonne's eyes. 
 
 When she first appeared Lieutenant Shafto, the 
 English officer in command of the guard, was 
 pacing the quarter deck, stiffly remote and inex- 
 pressibly bored. He had two ambitions in life 
 the one, altogether laudable and ordinary, to be a 
 good officer in the king's service ; the other, 
 more distinguished and uncommon, to be quoted 
 as an example of dress and manners to his fellow- 
 men. In London he had achieved in this direc- 
 tion sufficient success to establish him steadfastly 
 in his purpose. Ordered to Halifax with his regi- 
 ment, he had there found the field for his talent
 
 250 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 sorely straitened. At Grand Pre, far worse : it was 
 reduced to the dimensions of a back-door plot. 
 Here on shipboard it seemed wholly to have 
 vanished. Nevertheless, for practice, and for the 
 preservation of a civil habit, he had clung to his 
 niceties. Now, when he saw Yvonne, his first 
 thought was to thank Heaven he had been as par- 
 ticular with his toilet that morning as if about to 
 walk down Piccadilly. 
 
 He fitted his glass to his eye. 
 
 " Gad ! " he said to himself, " it really is ! " 
 
 He removed the glass, and giving it a more 
 careful readjustment, stared again. 
 
 " Gad ! " said he, " it is none other ! A devilish 
 fine girl ! She couldn't be beat in all London for 
 looks or wits. What does it mean? Given that 
 cad Anderson the slip, eh? Discriminating, be- 
 gad ! " 
 
 Lieutenant Shafto had a definite contempt for 
 Anderson, as a man who sat by the fire when he 
 might have been fighting. If a man fought well 
 or dressed well, Shafto could respect him. Ander- 
 son did neither. He was therefore easily placed. 
 
 "There's something rich behind this," went 
 on the lieutenant to himself. " But, gad ! there is 
 a savour to this voyage, after all. There's a pair 
 of bright eyes devilish bright eyes to dress 
 for ! " 
 
 He hitched his sword to a more gallant angle
 
 The Divine Right of Queens 251 
 
 as he stepped primly down the deck. He gave 
 the flow of his coat an airy curve. He would 
 have felt of his queue had he dared, to assure 
 himself it was dressed to a nicety. He glanced 
 with complaisance at his correct and entirely spot- 
 less ruffles. And by this he was come to made- 
 moiselle's side, where he stood, bowing low, his 
 cap held very precisely across his breast. 
 
 " The honour, mademoiselle ! Ah, the marvel 
 of it!" he murmured. " The ship is transfigured. 
 I was but now anathematizing it as a most especial 
 hell : I looked up, and it had become a paradise 
 a paradise of one fair spirit ! " 
 
 Yvonne looked at him with searching eyes as 
 he delivered this fantasia, then a trifle imperiously 
 gave him her hand to kiss. 
 
 She had spoken passingly with him twice or 
 thrice before, at Father Fafard's. She understood 
 him read him through:, a man absurd, but 
 never contemptible ; to be quite heartily disliked, 
 yet wholly trusted ; to be laughed at, yet dis- 
 creetly ; vain, indomitable, a fighter and a fop ; 
 living for the field and the hair-dresser. Here 
 was a man whom she would use, yet respect him 
 the while. 
 
 " You do nobly, monsieur," she said, with a 
 faint, enigmatic smile, " to thus keep the light of 
 courtly custom burning clear, even in our dark- 
 nesses."
 
 252 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " There can be no darkness where your face 
 shines, mademoiselle," he cried, delighted not less 
 with himself than with her. 
 
 It was a little obvious, but she accepted it 
 graciously with a look, and he went on : 
 
 " I beg that you will let me place my cabin at 
 your disposal during the voyage. You will find it 
 narrow, but roomy enough to accommodate you 
 and your maid." 
 
 Here Captain Eliphalet interfered. 
 
 " I claim the privilege, mademoiselle," said he, 
 with some vexation in his tones, " of giving you the 
 captain's cabin, which is by all odds the most 
 commodious place on the ship the only place 
 at all suitable for you." 
 
 " The captain is right," said Shafto reluctantly. 
 " His cabin is the more comfortable ; and I beg 
 him to share mine." 
 
 In this way, then, the difficulty was settled, and 
 Yvonne found herself in quarters of unwonted 
 comfort for a West India trader, Captain Eliphalet 
 being given to luxury beyond the most of his 
 Puritan kin. She was contented with her accom- 
 plishment so far as it went ; and having two gal- 
 lant men to deal with she felt already secure of her 
 empire. She read approbation, too, in those enig- 
 matic eyes of Mother Pche, with their whites ever 
 glancing and gleaming. Moreover, as she sat 
 down to luncheon, to the condiment of a bound-
 
 The Divine Right of Queens 253 
 
 ing heart and so much appetite as might nourish 
 a pe-wee bird, she had two points gained to elate 
 her. First, in passing the open hatchway which, 
 as Captain Eliphalet told her, led to the prisoners' 
 quarters, she had shaken lightly from her lips 
 enough clear laughter to reach, as she guessed, 
 those ears attuned to hear it ; and second, she had 
 the promises both of the broad-bearded captain 
 and the beautifully barbered lieutenant, that her 
 cousins, Monsieur de Mer and Monsieur Paul 
 Grande, should be brought on deck to see her 
 that very day. 
 
 " You should be very good to them, gentlemen," 
 she said demurely, picking with dubious fork at 
 brown strips of toasted herring on her plate. " My 
 cousin Marc especially. He is half English, you 
 know. He has the most adorable English wife, 
 from Boston, with red hair wherein he easily per- 
 suades himself that the sun rises and sets." 
 
 " If you would have us love them for your sake, 
 mademoiselle, love them not too much yourself," 
 laughed the broad-bearded Captain Eliphalet, in 
 vast good-humour; but the admirable lieutenant 
 murmured : 
 
 "There is no hair but black hair black with 
 somehow a glint in it when the sun strikes so." 
 
 And Mother Pe~che, passing behind them and 
 catching a flash from Yvonne's eye, smiled many 
 thoughts.
 
 Chapter XXXIV 
 The Soul's Supremer Sense 
 
 AT this point it seems proper that I should 
 once more speak in my own person; for 
 at this point the story of my beloved once more 
 converges to my own. 
 
 I was awakened out of a bitter dream by Marc's 
 lips moving at my ear in the stealthiest whisper. 
 The first pallor of dawn was sifting down amongst 
 us from the open hatch, opened for air. I nodded 
 my head to signify I was awake and listening. 
 There was a ringing gabble of small waves against 
 the ship's side, covering up all trivial sounds ; and 
 I knew we were tacking. 
 
 " Listen now, Paul," said Marc's obscure whis- 
 per, like a voice within my head. " We have 
 made a beginning earlier than we planned, because 
 the guards were sleepy, and the noise of these 
 light waves favoured us. You knew, or guessed, 
 we had a plan. That wily fox, La Mouche, 
 brought a file with him in his boot. It was sent 
 to him while he was in the chapel prison. Grul, 
 
 254
 
 The Soul's Supremer Sense 255 
 
 none other, sent it to him inside a loaf of bread 
 and, faith, thereby came a broken tooth. Your 
 Grul is wonderful, a deus ex machincl every time. 
 Well, we muffled the file in my shirt, and I scraped 
 away, under cover of all this good noise, at the 
 spring of La Mouche's handcuffs, till it gave. Now 
 he can slip them on and off in a twinkling ; but to 
 the eye of authority they are infrangible as ever. 
 Oh, things are coming our way at last, for a change, 
 my poor dejected ! We will rise to-night, this very 
 coming night, if all goes well ; and the ship will be 
 ours, for we are five to one." 
 
 There was a thrill in his whisper, imperturbable 
 Marc though he was. Under the long chafing of 
 restraint his imperturbability had worn thin. 
 
 My own blood flowed with a sudden warmth at 
 his words. Here was a near hope of freedom, 
 and freedom would mean to me but one thing 
 a swift return to the neighbourhood where I 
 might achieve to see Yvonne. I felt the strong 
 medicine of this thought working health in every 
 vein. 
 
 "But how to-night?" I whispered back, un- 
 willing to be too soon sanguine. "It takes time 
 to file fetters, riest-ce pas ? " 
 
 " Oh, but trust La Mouche ! " replied Marc. 
 " He understands those bracelets as you, my 
 cousin, in days you doubtless choose to forget, 
 understood the more fragile, but scarce less fetter-
 
 256 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 ing, ones affected by fair arms in Montreal, or 
 Quebec, or even Trois Pistoles." 
 
 I took it ill of my cousin to gall my sore at such 
 a moment, but I strictly held my tongue ; and 
 after a vexing pause he went on : 
 
 "This wily La Mouche with free hands and 
 the knowing how, it is but a turn and a click, and 
 the thing is off. It will be no mean weapon, too, 
 when we're ready to wield it." 
 I stretched fiercely. 
 
 " Pray God it be to-night ! " I muttered. 
 " S-sh-sh ! " whispered Marc in my ear. " Not 
 so loud, boy ! Now, with this to dream on, go to 
 sleep again. There'll be something to keep us 
 awake next night." 
 
 " And when we've got the ship, what then? " I 
 whispered, feeling no doubt of our success. 
 
 " We'll run into the St. John mouth," was the 
 answer, " and then, leaving the women and chil- 
 dren, with such men as will stay, at the Jemseg 
 settlement, we will strike overland on snow-shoes 
 for Quebec." 
 
 " And I for Grand Pre," said I doggedly. 
 I heard the ghost of a laugh flit from Marc's 
 lips. 
 
 " Good dog ! Hold fast ! " said he. 
 There was no gainsaying it. I was better. For 
 perhaps an hour or two I slept like a baby, to 
 awake deeply refreshed. A clear light came down
 
 The Soul's Supremer Sense 257 
 
 the hatch, and there was a busy tramping of sailors 
 overhead. It was high morning. 
 
 We were all awake, but silent. Sullen we might 
 have seemed, and hopelessly submissive, but there 
 was an alertness in the eyes flashing everywhere 
 toward Marc and me, such as might have been 
 warning to a folk less hardily indifferent than our 
 captors. Two red-coated guards, taxed with the 
 office of preventing conspiracy, paced up and 
 down with their heads high and heeded us little. 
 "What could these poor hand-cuffed wretches do, 
 anyway? " was the palpable significance of their 
 mien. 
 
 We desired indeed, at that time, to do nothing 
 save eat the breakfast of weevilly biscuits just now 
 served out to us, with good water still sweet from 
 the wells of vanished Grand Pre. When one has 
 hunger, there is rare relish in a weevilly biscuit ; 
 and I could have desired more of them than I 
 got. With our fettered hands we ate like a colony 
 of squirrels. 
 
 In the course of the morning it was not difficult, 
 the guards being so heedless, to pass whispered 
 word from one to another, so that soon all Marc's 
 plans were duly laid down. His was the devising 
 and ordering head, while La Mouche, for all his 
 subtlety, and long Philibert Trou, for all his craft, 
 were but the wielded instruments. It was an 
 unwonted part for me to be playing, this of blindly
 
 258 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 following another's lead; but Marc had done well, 
 seeing my heavy preoccupation, to make no great 
 demand upon my wits. My arm, he knew, would 
 be ready enough at need. I was not jealous. I 
 wanted to fight the English ; but I wanted to 
 think well, of just one thing on earth. Look- 
 ing back now, I trust I would have been more 
 useful to our cause that morning had not Marc's 
 capacity made wits of mine superfluous. 
 
 Throughout the morning we were all so quiet 
 that the ship's rats, lean and grey, came out and 
 ate the few crumbs we had let drop. Neverthe- 
 less, ere an hour before noon every man knew the 
 part he was to play in the venture of next night. 
 Long Philibert and La Mouche, with two other 
 Acadian woodsmen skilled in ambuscade, were to 
 deal with the guard silently. Marc and I, with no 
 stomach for aught but open warfare, were to lead 
 the rush up through the hatchway, to an excellent 
 chance of a bayonet through our gullets. I felt 
 justified now, however, in considering as to 
 whether I should be likely to find Yvonne still at 
 Grand Pre, casting a ray of beauty on the ruins, 
 or at Halifax, disturbing with her eyes the deliber- 
 ations of the governor and his council. 
 
 I said one hour before noon. About that time 
 the speed of the ship sensibly slackened, and there 
 seemed presently a confusion, an excitement of 
 some sort upon deck. We heard hails and sharp
 
 The Soul's Supremer Sense 259 
 
 orders. There was a sound as of people coming 
 on board. And then, of a sudden, a strange 
 trembling seized upon me. It was in every nerve 
 and vein, and my heart shook merely, instead of 
 beating. Such a feeling had come over me once 
 before when Yvonne's eyes, turned upon me 
 suddenly, seemed to say more than her lips would 
 have permitted her to acknowledge. With a faint 
 laugh at the very madness of it I could not but 
 say to Marc: 
 
 " I think that is Yvonne coming! " 
 
 Whereupon he looked at me solicitously, as if he 
 thought I was about to be taken with some sick- 
 ness. 
 
 I bit my tongue for having said it. 
 
 Before many minutes, however, footsteps passed 
 near the hatchway, and again the trembling took 
 me. Then I caught a ripple of clear laughter 
 life has never afforded to m'y ears other melody 
 so sweet as that laughter was, and is, and always 
 will be. I sprang straight upon my feet, but 
 instantly sat down again. Marc himself had heard 
 it and was puzzled, for who that had ever heard 
 the laughter of Yvonne de Lamourie could for- 
 get it? 
 
 " It is she ! " I said to him, in a thick voice.
 
 Chapter XXXV 
 The Court in the Cabin 
 
 IT is marvel to us now how the next hours of 
 suspense did pass. Yet pass they did, and 
 in a joy that was fairly certitude ; for I could not 
 doubt the witness of my inmost soul. At length I 
 saw that Marc believed also. His grave, dark 
 face grew luminous as he said, after long balanc- 
 ing of the matter : 
 
 " Her eyes, my Paul, have opened at the last 
 instant, and she has chosen exile with thee ! Even 
 so would Prudence have done. And seeing how 
 thou, my comrade, lovest her, I am ready to be- 
 lieve she may be almost such another as Prudence. 
 Wherefore she is here, quod erat demonstran- 
 dum ! " 
 
 Even as he spoke, a soldier came down the 
 ladder and stood before us. 
 
 " I am bidden to say," said he, " that Made- 
 moiselle de Lamourie desires to see Captain de Mer 
 and Captain Grande on deck; and I am ordered 
 by Lieutenant Shafto to fetch you at once." 
 
 260
 
 The Court in the Cabin 261 
 
 With such haste as was possible it is not 
 easy when handcuffed to climb ladders we 
 made our way on deck, and straight came Yvonne 
 running to meet us, both small hands outstretched. 
 Her eyes sank into mine for just one heart-beat 
 and that look said, " I love you." Then her 
 guarded face grew maidenly impartial. 
 
 " My friends ! My dear friends ! " she cried ; 
 but stopped as if she had been struck. Our hands 
 had not gone forth to meet hers. Her eyes fell 
 upon our fetters. She turned slowly toward Cap- 
 tain Eliphalet and Lieutenant Shafto, who had 
 followed close behind her. Flame gathered in 
 her eyes, and a dark flush of indignation went over 
 her face. She pointed at our handcuffs. 
 
 "This to my friends in my presence! " she 
 cried. " Of a truth your courtesy is tempered, 
 gentlemen ! " 
 
 With an angry exclamation Captain Eliphalet 
 sprang forward to remove the offending irons; 
 but the exquisite lieutenant was too quick for 
 him. At a sign the guard who had brought us 
 slipped them off, and stood holding them behind 
 his back, while his officer was left free to make 
 apologies. 
 
 These were abundant, and of such a tone as to 
 leave no doubt of their sincerity. Moreover, by 
 his manner, he included Marc and myself in his 
 expressions of regret, which proved sound policy
 
 262 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 on his part, and went far to win his pardon from 
 Yvonne. 
 
 " Believe me, mademoiselle," he concluded, " it 
 was never for one moment intended that these 
 gentlemen, your friends, officers in the French 
 army, and therefore, though my enemies, yet hon- 
 oured members of my own profession, should thus 
 obtrude upon your gentle eyes those chains, with 
 which not their fault, but the chances of our pro- 
 fession have for a season embarrassed them." 
 
 This was so apt and so elegant a conclusion that 
 Captain Eliphalet felt himself urged to some great 
 things, if he would not be quite eclipsed in his 
 guest's entrancing eyes. 
 
 " Indeed, mademoiselle," he made haste to say, 
 " as these gentlemen are your friends and kinsmen, 
 and you have dared so splendidly for their sake, 
 they may say good-by to the irons for the rest 
 of the voyage, if they will but give their word 
 of honour that they will in no way use their 
 liberty to the detriment of my duties and respon- 
 sibilities, nor to free any of the other prisoners." 
 
 He turned to us with a very hearty air. Yvonne 
 looked radiant with satisfaction. Lieutenant 
 Shafto's face dropped for he doubtless thought 
 our continued freedom would much limit his priv- 
 ileges with Yvonne. But I spoke up at once, fore- 
 stalling Marc. 
 
 " I need hardly assure you, Monsieur le Capi-
 
 The Court in the Cabin 263 
 
 taine, that we do from our hearts appreciate your 
 most generous courtesy. But beyond the few 
 hours of freedom which we dare hope you may 
 grant us each day, for the priceless solace of our 
 fair kinswoman's company, we cannot in conscience 
 accept a favour that would too enviably distinguish 
 us from our fellows." 
 
 Captain Eliphalet looked unaffectedly aston- 
 ished. Yvonne looked hurt and disappointed for 
 a moment ; then her face changed, and I saw that 
 her swift brain was drawing intricate inferences from 
 this strange rejection of parole to which Marc 
 had assented in a word. As for the elegant Mr. 
 Shafto, however, he was frankly delighted. 
 
 " Right soldierly said, gentlemen ! " he ex- 
 claimed. " A good officer stands by his men. I 
 am honoured in meeting you ! " and with a very 
 precise civility he shook hands with us in turn. 
 
 "But it is very cold here, is it not?" cried 
 Yvonne, with a little shiver, pulling her cloak close. 
 " Let me invite you all to my cabin." 
 
 This invitation she gave with a flying radiance 
 of look at Captain Eliphalet, wherewith he stood 
 a millionfold rewarded. 
 
 In the cabin I was not greatly astonished, though 
 more than greatly pleased, to find Mother Pche. 
 The undisguised triumph in her eyes said, " Didn't 
 I tell you ? " and in involuntary response to the 
 challenge I thrust my hand into my breast and felt
 
 264 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 the little deerskin pouch containing the tress of hair 
 and the mystic stone. She smiled at the gesture. 
 
 I pressed the dear old witch's hand, and said in 
 a low voice : 
 
 " In all my life to come I cannot thank you 
 enough. But isn't it wonderful? I'm in fear each 
 moment of waking, and to find it a dream." 
 
 " She is a dream, Master Paul ! " said the old 
 dame. " And see how all men dream when they 
 look upon her ! " 
 
 With a jealous pang I realized the truth of what 
 she said ; and thereupon I made haste to Yvonne's 
 side, where I saw Marc, Shafto, and Captain Eliph- 
 alet all hanging devoutly upon her words. I was 
 but a dull addition to the sprightly circle, for I 
 was wondering how I should manage to get a word 
 with her. 
 
 Had I but known her better I need not have won- 
 dered. Presently she broke off in the midst of 
 a sparkling tirade, laid her hand upon my arm, 
 and said : 
 
 " Will you pardon me, gentlemen, but I have a 
 brief word awaiting the ear of Captain Grande," 
 and calmly she walked me off to the cabin 
 door. 
 
 " I presumed, perhaps too hastily, that you still 
 wanted me, dear," was what she said. 
 
 I dared not look straight at her, for I knew that 
 if I did so my face would be a flaunting proclama-
 
 The Court in the Cabin 265 
 
 tion of my worship. I could but say, in a voice 
 that strove for steadiness : 
 
 " Beloved, beloved ! have you done all this for 
 me?" 
 
 A happy mirth came into her voice as she 
 answered : 
 
 " No, Paul, not quite all for you ! I had to 
 think a little of a certain good man, madly bent 
 on marrying a woman who would, alas ! (I know it 
 too well) have made him a most unpleasant wife. 
 George Anderson will never know what I saved 
 him from. But you may, Paul? Aren't you a 
 little bit afraid?" 
 
 I am well aware that in this supreme moment I 
 betrayed no originality whatever. I could only re- 
 peat myself, in expressions which I need not set 
 down. Trite as they were, however, she forgave 
 them. 
 
 "We have so much 'to talk about, dear," she 
 said, " but not now. We must go back to the 
 others ; and I must take your cousin Marc aside 
 as I have done with you, so that this won't look 
 too strange. Does he like me approve of me? " 
 she asked anxiously. 
 
 " Second only to his little Puritan he loves 
 you," said I. " He knows everything." 
 
 Then, just as we turned back to the others, I 
 whispered in her ear: 
 
 " Be prepared for events to-night ! "
 
 266 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 She gave me a startled look, understanding ax 
 once. Then indeed, as now, whatever is in my 
 mind she is apt to read as if it were an open 
 book. 
 
 " So soon? Oh, be careful for my sake ! " 
 
 I could give no answer, for by this, the cabin 
 being small, we were quite returned from our 
 privacy. 
 
 For perhaps two hours Yvonne entertained us, 
 not only conversing herself with a gracious wit 
 that struck but to illumine, never to wound, but 
 calling forth a responsive alertness in her cava- 
 liers. Captain Eliphalet began to wonder at his 
 own readiness of repartee and compliment. Lieu- 
 tenant Shafto forgot the perfect propriety of his 
 ruffles, engrossed for once in another than him- 
 self. Even my imperturbable Marc yielded in 
 some measure to the resistless bewilderment, and 
 played the gallant with a quaint, fatherly air that 
 pleasured me. I, only, was the silent one. I 
 could but listen, intoxicated, speaking when I 
 could not escape it, and my ears averse to all 
 words but those coming from her lips. 
 
 By and by I was vexed that his discretion 
 should bring the moment so soon Marc made 
 his adieux, insisting against much protest that he 
 desired to keep his welcome unworn for the mor- 
 row. I could do naught save follow his example ; 
 but as I withdrew, Yvonne's eyes held me so that
 
 The Court in the Cabin 267 
 
 my feet in going moved like lead. The broad- 
 bearded captain and the impeccable lieutenant 
 most civilly accompanied us to the door of our 
 prison. 
 
 " This situation, gentlemen," said Marc, with a 
 smile of careless amusement, " which your cour- 
 tesy does so sweeten for us, is certainly not with- 
 out the relish of strangeness." 
 
 " It shall be made as little strange as lies in 
 our power to make it, sir," replied Captain 
 Eliphalet heartily ; and we parted with all expres- 
 sions of esteem ; not till their backs were turned 
 upon us did we extend our wrists for the irons, 
 which the discreet guard had kept hidden under 
 the flap of his great-coat.
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI 
 
 Sword and Silk 
 
 THAT night the weather fell thick, and, the 
 wind freshening suddenly, the ship dropped 
 anchor. Captain Eliphalet Wrye was not so 
 familiar with the reefs and tides of Fundy that he 
 cared to navigate her waters in the dark. This 
 we considered very favourable to our enterprise ; 
 for the tide running strongly, and the wind 
 against it, kicked up a pother that made the hold 
 reecho. 
 
 The time agreed upon was toward three, when 
 those asleep are heaviest. I think that most of 
 our men slept, but with that consciousness of 
 events impending which would bring them wide 
 awake on the instant. Marc, I know, lay sleeping 
 like a child. But for me no sleep, no sleep indeed. 
 I could not spare a minute from the delight of 
 thinking and dreaming. Here I lay in irons, a 
 captive, an exile, but my beloved had come. 
 
 " She has come, my beloved ! " I kept saying 
 over and over to myself. 
 
 268
 
 Sword and Silk 269 
 
 Then I tried planning for our future ; but the 
 morrow promised her presence, and for the time 
 I could not get my thoughts past that. There 
 was no need to discount future joy by drawing 
 bills of dear anticipation. But it was tonic to my 
 brain to look back upon the hopeless despair in 
 which I had lain weltering so few hours before. 
 Now they seemed years away and how I 
 blessed their remoteness, those sick hours of 
 anguish ! Yes, though I had not given up my 
 purpose, I had surely given up the hope that 
 kept it alive. Then Mother Pche's soothsaying 
 over the lines of my palm came back to me : 
 " Your heart 's desire is nigh your death of hope /" 
 
 Wonderful old woman ! How came such wisdom 
 to your simple heart, with no teachers but herbs, 
 and dews, and stillnesses of the open marsh, and 
 hill-whispers, and the unknown stars? Out of 
 some deep truth you spoke, surely; for even as 
 my hope died, had not my heart's desire come? 
 And I said to myself, " It is but a narrow and 
 shallow heart that expects to understand all it 
 believes. Do we not walk as men blindfolded in 
 the citadel of mystery? What seem to us the large 
 things and unquestionable may, the half of them, 
 be vain and small, derided things an uninter- 
 preted message of truth 1 " 
 
 My revery was broken by Marc laying free hands 
 upon mine.
 
 270 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " Are you awake? " he whispered. " The time 
 has come. See ! This is the way to open them." 
 And very easily, as it seemed, he slipped the iron 
 from my wrists. 
 
 " Feel ! " he went on, in the same soft whisper. 
 I followed his fingers in the dimness. There 
 was no light but the murk of a smoky Ian- 
 thorn some way off, where the guards sat deject- 
 edly smoking, and I caught the method of 
 unlocking the spring. " Free your next neighbour, 
 and pass the word along," continued Marc ; and 
 I did so. It was all managed with noiseless 
 precision. 
 
 In a very few minutes which seemed an hour 
 there was a sneeze from the furthermost corner of 
 the hold, beyond the place where the guards sat. 
 It was not the most natural and easy sneeze in the 
 world, but it served. It was answered by another 
 from the opposite corner. The shrill, silly sound 
 was yet in the air when the ominous form of long 
 Philibert Trou loomed high behind the sitting 
 guards and fell upon one of them like fate ; while 
 at the same moment, like a springing cat, the lithe 
 figure of La Mouche shot up at the other's throat. 
 
 For such skilled hands it was but a moment's 
 work, and no noise about it. Like the rising of 
 an army of spectres, every man came silently to 
 his feet. Seizing the musket of the nearest guard, 
 where he lay motionless, I glided to the hatch,
 
 Sword and Silk 271 
 
 just far enough ahead of Marc to get my foot first 
 on the ladder. 
 
 As I reached the deck the sentry, not three 
 paces distant, was just turning. With a yell to 
 warn his comrades he sprang at me. Nimbly I 
 avoided his bayonet thrust, and the butt of my 
 musket brought him down. I had reserved my 
 fire for the possibility of a more dangerous en- 
 counter. 
 
 There were shouts along the deck and shots 
 and I saw sailors running up, and then more 
 soldiers and I sprang to meet them. But 
 already Marc was at my side, and a dozen, nay, a 
 score, of my fellow-captives. In a breath, as it 
 were, the score doubled and trebled the hold 
 seemed to spout them forth, so hotly they came. 
 
 There were but few shots, and a fall or two with 
 groans. The thing was over before it was well 
 begun, so perfect had been the surprise. We had 
 all who were on deck in irons, save for three slain 
 and one grievously wounded. Those who had 
 been asleep in their bunks when the alarm was 
 given now promptly gave themselves up, soldiers 
 and sailors alike, being not mad enough to play 
 out a lost game. Handcuffs were abundant, which 
 made our work the simpler. 
 
 As I went forward, wondering where Shafto was 
 this while, I was met by La Mouche and two others 
 leading a prisoner. It was Captain Eliphalet, with
 
 272 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 blood on his face, sorely dazed, but undaunted. 
 Indignation and reproach so struggled within him 
 that he could not for the moment find speech. 
 
 " Pardon, I beseech you, Captain Wrye," I made 
 haste to say, " the need which has compelled me 
 to make such rude return for your courtesy. 
 This," and I tapped his irons with my finger, 
 " is but for an hour or two at most, till we get 
 things on our ship fitly ordered. Then, believe 
 me, you will find that this is merely a some- 
 what abrupt reversal of the positions of host and 
 guest." 
 
 I fear that Captain Eliphalet's reply was going 
 to be a rude one, but if so it was quenched at his 
 lips. The door of the cabin opened, a bright light 
 streamed forth, and down it glided Yvonne in her 
 white gown, the black lace over her head. 
 
 " Oh, Paul, what has happened ? Are you are 
 you safe ? " she asked breathlessly, 'twixt laughing 
 and tears. The shooting and shouting had aroused 
 her roughly. 
 
 " Quite safe, my dearest," I whispered. " And 
 the ship is ours." 
 
 All that this meant flashed upon her, and her 
 face flushed, her eyes dilated. But before she 
 found voice to welcome the great news, her glance 
 fell upon Captain Eliphalet's blood-stained counte- 
 nance, and her joy faded into compassion. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " you are not wounded,
 
 Sword and Silk 273 
 
 surely, surely ! " And she pressed her hand- 
 kerchief pitifully to the blood-spots. 
 
 " It is nothing, nothing, mademoiselle, but a 
 mere scratch, or bruise, rather," stammered Cap- 
 tain Eliphalet. Then she saw that his hands were 
 fettered. 
 
 " Paul ! " she exclaimed, turning upon me a face 
 grown very white and grave. " And he was so 
 kind to me ! How could you ! " 
 
 " As a matter of fact, I didn't, Yvonne," said I. 
 " But this is what I am going to do." 
 
 Slipping off the irons I tossed them into the sea. 
 
 " Captain Wrye," said I to him, with a bow, " I 
 have much yet to do, and I must not stay here 
 any longer. May I commit to your charge for a 
 little while what is more precious than all else? " 
 
 Yvonne thanked me with a look, and laid her 
 hand on the captain's arm. 
 
 "We will dress your wound, monsieur," said 
 she. " Mother Pche has a wondrous skill in such 
 matters." And she led the captain away. 
 
 By this Marc was come up, with a squad of his 
 men fully armed. Some half score approached 
 the second cabin. A window opened, a thin 
 stream of fire flashed out, with a sharp report of a 
 pistol; and a man fell, shot through the head. 
 Another report, with the red streak in the front of 
 it, and a tall Acadian threw up his arms, screamed 
 chokingly, and dropped across a coil of rope.
 
 274 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 The precise Lieutenant Shafto had awakened to 
 the state of affairs. 
 
 " Down with the door, men, before he can load 
 again ! " shouted Marc, springing forward ; and long 
 Philibert picked up a light spar which lay at hand, 
 very well suited to the purpose. 
 
 But there was no need of it. The door was 
 thrown open, and in the light from Yvonne's cabin 
 was revealed the form of the English officer. He 
 stood in his doorway, very angry and scornful, the 
 point of his sword thrust passionately against the 
 deck in front of him. A fine and a brave figure 
 he was, as he stood there in his stockings, breeches, 
 and fairly berufHed shirt for he had not just 
 now taken time to perfect his toilet with the cus- 
 tomary care. In this attitude he paused for a 
 second, lightly springing his sword, and scowling 
 upon us. 
 
 " I must ask you to surrender, monsieur," said 
 Marc, advancing. " The ship is in our hands. I 
 shall be glad to accept your parole." 
 
 " I will not surrender ! " he answered curtly. 
 " If there be a gentleman among you who can use 
 a sword, I am willing to fight him. If not, I will 
 see how many more of this rabble I can take with 
 me." And he jerked his head toward the two 
 whom he had shot down. 
 
 "I will cross swords with you," I cried, getting 
 ahead of Marc, "and will count myself much
 
 Sword and Silk 275 
 
 honoured in meeting so brave a gentleman. But 
 you English took my sword from me, and up 
 to the present have neglected to give it back." 
 
 " I have swords, of course, monsieur," he re- 
 plied, his face lighting with satisfaction as he 
 stepped back into his cabin to get them. 
 
 But some one else was not satisfied. Yvonne's 
 hands were on my arm her eyes, wide with 
 terror, imploring mine. " Don't ! It will kill me, 
 dear ! Oh, what madness ! Have you no pity 
 for me ! " she gasped. 
 
 I looked at her reassuringly, not liking to say 
 there was ho danger, lest I should seem to boast ; 
 and so instant was her reading of my thought that 
 even as I looked the fear died out of her face. 
 
 "It is nothing, dear heart. Ask Marc," I 
 whispered. She turned to him with the question 
 in her eyes. 
 
 " Paul is the best sword in New France," said 
 Marc quietly, " not even excepting my father, the 
 Sieur de Briart." 
 
 Now so quickly was the confidence of my own 
 heart transferred into the heart of my beloved that 
 she was no more afraid. Indeed, what she said was : 
 
 " You must not hurt him, Paul ! He has been 
 very nice to me ! " and this in a voice so clear 
 that Shafto himself heard it as he came out with 
 the swords. It ruffled him, but he bowed low to 
 her in acknowledgment of her interest.
 
 276 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " They are of the same length. Choose, mon- 
 sieur ! " said he, holding them out to me. 
 
 I took the nearest and knew as soon as the 
 hilt was in my hand that it was an honest weapon, 
 of English make, something slow in action and 
 lacking subtlety of response, but adequate to the 
 present enterprise. Lanthorns were brought, and 
 so disposed by Marc's orders that the light should 
 fall fairly for one as for the other. The English- 
 man had regained his good temper, or a civil 
 semblance of it, and marked the preparations 
 with approval. 
 
 " You have had abundant experience, I per- 
 ceive, in the arbitrament of gentlemen," said he. 
 
 " My cousin has, in particular, monsieur," re- 
 plied Marc dryly. Whereupon Mr. Shafto turned 
 upon me a scrutiny of unaffected interest. 
 
 A moment more, and the swords set up that 
 thin and venomous whispering of theirs. Now, 
 what I am not going to do, even to please Yvonne, 
 is undertake to describe that combat. She wishes 
 it, because under my instruction she has learned 
 to fence very cunningly herself. But to me the 
 affair was unpleasant, because I saw from the first 
 a brave gentleman, and a good enough swordsman 
 as these English go, hopelessly overmatched. I 
 would not do him the discredit of seeming to play 
 with him. He fenced very hotly, too. He wanted 
 blood, being bitter and humiliated. After a few
 
 Sword and Silk 277 
 
 minutes of quick play I thought it best to prick 
 him a little sharply in the arm. The blood 
 spurted scarlet over his white sleeve ; and I sprang 
 back, dropping my point. 
 
 "Are you satisfied, monsieur? " Tasked. 
 
 "No, never! Guard yourself, sir!" he cried 
 angrily, taking two quick steps after me. 
 
 During the next two minutes or so he was so 
 impetuous as to keep me quite occupied; and I 
 was about concluding to disarm him, when there 
 came a strange intervention. It was most irregu- 
 lar ; but the wisest of women seem to have small 
 regard for points of stringency in masculine eti- 
 quette. At a most knowingly calculated moment 
 there descended between us, entangling and divert- 
 ing the points of our weapons, what but a flutter 
 of black lace ! 
 
 " I will not have either of you defeated ! " came 
 Yvonne's voice, gayly imperious. " You shall both 
 of you surrender at once, to me ! There is no dis- 
 honour, gentlemen, in surrendering to a woman ! " 
 
 It was a most gracious thought on her part, to 
 save a brave man from humiliation; and my wor- 
 ship of her deepened, if that were possible. As 
 for the elegant Mr. Shafto, he was palpably taken 
 aback, and glowered rudely for a space of some 
 seconds. Then he came to himself and accepted 
 the diversion with good grace. With a very low 
 bow he presented his sword-hilt to Yvonne, saying :
 
 278 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 " To you, and to you only, I yield myself a 
 prisoner, Mademoiselle de Lamourie." 
 
 Yvonne took the sword, examined it with gay 
 concern on this side and on that, tried it against 
 the deck as she had seen him do, and then, without 
 so much as a glance at Marc or me for permission, 
 gravely returned it to him. 
 
 " Keep it, monsieur," she said. " I have no use 
 for it at present ; and I trust to hold my prisoners 
 whether they be armed or defenceless." 
 
 " That you will, mademoiselle, I'll wager," 
 spoke up Captain Eliphalet, just behind.
 
 Chapter XXXVII 
 Fire in Ice 
 
 SOME while after, as in my passing to and fro 
 I went by the cabin for the fiftieth time, my 
 expectation came true : the door opened, and 
 Yvonne, close wrapped in her great cloak, stood 
 beside me. I drew her under the lee of the cabin, 
 where the bitter wind blew less witheringly. The 
 first of dawn was just creeping bleakly up the sky, 
 and the ship was under way. 
 
 " You are cold, dear," exclaimed Yvonne 
 beneath her breath, catching my hand in her two 
 little warm ones; and, faith ! I was, though I had 
 not had time to notice it till she bade me. The 
 next moment, careless of the eyes of La Mouche, 
 who stood by the rail not ten paces off, she opened 
 her cloak, flung the folds of it about my neck, and 
 drew my face down, in that enchanted darkness, to 
 the sweet warmth of hers. 
 
 There were no words. What could those vain 
 things avail in such a moment, when our pulses 
 beat together, and our souls met at the lips, and 
 
 279
 
 280 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 in silence was plighted that great troth which shall 
 last, it is my faith, through other lives than this? 
 Then she drew softly away, and, with eyes cast 
 down, left me, and went back into her cabin. 
 
 I lifted my head. La Mouche stood by the rail, 
 looking off across the faintly lightening water. As 
 I passed near him he turned and grasped my hand 
 hard. 
 
 " I am most glad for you, my captain ! " he said 
 quietly. But I saw that my joy was an emphasis 
 to his own sorrow, and his very lips were grey for 
 remembrance of the woman who had stricken him. 
 
 When it was full daylight we could see the other 
 ship, a white speck on the horizon far ahead. 
 Long before noon she was out of sight. The wind 
 favouring us all day, before sunset we arrived off 
 the grim portal through which the great river of 
 St. John, named by Champlain, empties forth its 
 floods into the sea. The rocky ridges that fence 
 the haven were crested gloriously with rose and 
 gold, and toward this inviting harbourage we 
 steered not without misgivings, however, for we 
 knew not the channel or the current. In this strait 
 we received unlooked-for aid. Captain Eliphalet, 
 excited by some error in the course which we 
 were shaping, and all in a tremble lest his loved 
 ship fall upon a reef, offered his services as pilot. 
 They were at once accepted. We knew he was
 
 Fire in Ice 281 
 
 as incapable of a treachery as his situation was 
 of turning a treachery to profit. Himself he took 
 the wheel ; and on the slack of tide he steered us 
 up to a windless anchorage at the very head of the 
 harbour, beside the ruins of an old fort. The only 
 sign of life was the huts of a few Acadian fishermen, 
 so miserable as to have been quite overlooked by 
 the doom that had descended on their race. 
 
 Our plan was to scatter the greater part of our 
 company among the small Acadian settlements up 
 the river at Jemseg, Pointe Ste. Anne, and Me- 
 doctec ; while the rest of us, the trained men who 
 would be needed in New France, accompanied by 
 a half dozen women with daring and vitality for 
 such a journey, would make our way on sledges 
 and snow-shoes northward, 'over the Height of 
 Land, down into the St. Lawrence valley, and 
 thence to Quebec. 
 
 The two carronades on the deck of our ship 
 we dropped into the harbour. We helped ourselves 
 to all the arms and ammunition, with tools for the 
 building of our sledges, and such clothing as our 
 prisoners could well spare. Of the ship's stores 
 we left enough to carry the ship safely to Boston. 
 Yvonne gave Lieutenant Shafto a letter for her 
 father and mother, which he undertook to forward 
 to Halifax at the earliest opportunity. Then, three 
 days after our arrival in the St. John, we loosed 
 our captives every one, bade Captain Eliphalet a
 
 282 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 less eventful remainder to his voyage, and turned 
 our back upon the huts of the fishermen. We 
 crossed the Kennebeccasis River on the ice, where 
 it joins the St. John, just back of the ridge which 
 forms the northern rampart of the harbour. Thence 
 we pushed straight up the main river, keeping 
 close along the eastern shore. 
 
 The rough sledges which we had hastily thrown 
 together were piled with our stores. They carried 
 also such of the women and children as were not 
 capable of enduring the march. The sledges ran 
 easily on the level way afforded by the river, which 
 was now frozen to the depth of a foot. In spots the 
 ice was covered by a thin, hard-packed layer of 
 snow; b,ut for the most part it had been swept 
 clean by the wind. 
 
 For my own part, I drew a light sledge, of which 
 I had myself directed the construction, that it might 
 be comfortable for Yvonne. It was comfortable, 
 with a back and arms, and well lined with blankets. 
 But she chose rather, for the most of the journey, 
 to walk beside me, secretly proud to show her 
 activity and endurance. It was Mother Pche 
 who, under strenuous protest, chiefly occupied my 
 sledge. Her protests were vain enough; for 
 Yvonne told her quietly that if she would not let 
 herself be taken care of she would not trust her to 
 face the Quebec journey, but would leave her 
 behind at Jemseg. Though the old dame was a
 
 Fire in Ice 283 
 
 witch, Yvonne had the will to have her way; 
 and protest ended. 
 
 As we marched, a little aside from the main body, 
 Yvonne now laying her mittened hand upon my 
 arm, and now drawing with me upon the sledge- 
 rope, we had exhaustless themes of converse, but 
 also seasons for that revealing silence when the 
 great things get themselves uttered between two 
 souls. 
 
 There were some practical matters, however, not 
 without importance, which silence was not compe- 
 tent to discuss. 
 
 " Do you know any one at the Jemseg settlement, 
 Paul?" she chanced to ask me, that first day of 
 our marching. 
 
 " Yes," said I, with significance, taking merci- 
 less advantage of the question, " I know an excel- 
 lent priest, dear heart ! " 
 
 She reddened, and turned upon me deep eyes 
 of reproach. But I was not abashed. 
 
 "Am I too precipitate, sweet?" I asked. 
 " But do not think so. I know you will not. 
 Consider all the strangeness of the situation, most 
 dear, and give me the right to guard you, to keep 
 you, to show openly my reverence and my love." 
 
 As she did not reply, it was clear enough that 
 she found my reasoning cogent. I went on, with 
 a kind of singing elation in my brain : 
 
 " Truly, in my eyes, you are my wife now, as
 
 284 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 do you remember? I dared to call you that night 
 as we came over the ridge, I to prison, you 
 to But no ! I will not think of that. In deed 
 and in truth, dear, I believe that God joined to- 
 gether us two, inalienably and forever, not months 
 ago, but years ago that day in the orchard, 
 when our spirits met in our eyes. The material 
 part of us was slow in awaking to the comprehen- 
 sion of that mystery, but " 
 
 "Speak for yourself, Paul," she interrupted, 
 with tantalizing suggestion. 
 
 I stopped short, forgetting all my eloquence. 
 
 " And you loved me then and knew it ! " I 
 exclaimed, in a voice poignant with the realization 
 of lost years. 
 
 She came very close against my side, and held 
 my arm tightly, as she said, in a voice 'twixt mock- 
 ing and caressing: 
 
 " I think I might have known it, Paul, had you 
 helped me the least little bit had the material 
 part of you, let us say, been the least bit quicker 
 of comprehension." 
 
 She forbore to hint at all that might have been 
 different; but the thought of it kept me long 
 silent. 
 
 On the next day, about sunset, we reached the 
 Jemseg settlement. That same day Yvonne be- 
 came my wife.
 
 Chapter XXXVIII 
 Of Long Felicity, Brief Word 
 
 " T TOW many years, dear heart, since we made 
 JL J. that winter journey, thou and I, from 
 Jemsegto Quebec, through the illimitable snows?" 
 " Ten ! " answers Yvonne ; and the great eyes 
 which she lifts from her writing and flashes gayly 
 upon me grow tender with sweet remembrance. 
 During those ten years the destinies of thrones 
 have shifted strangely in the kaleidoscope of fate. 
 Empires have changed hands. New France has 
 been erased from the New World. Louisbourg 
 has been levelled to a sheep pasture. Quebec has 
 proved no more impregnable. The flag of Eng- 
 land flies over Canada. My uncle, the Sieur de 
 Briart, sleeps in a glorious grave, having fallen 
 with Montcalm on the Plains of Abraham. My 
 cousin Marc and I, having fought and bled for 
 France in all the last battles, and lain for months 
 in an English hospital, have accepted the new 
 masters of our country and been confirmed in 
 our little estates beside the Ottawa. 
 285
 
 286 Sister to Evangeline 
 
 Redeeming my promise to Grul, I have aided 
 him in his vengeance on the Black Abbe a 
 strange, dark tale which I may one day set 
 down, if ever time makes it less painful to my 
 memory. 
 
 Much, then, have I endured in these ten years. 
 But the remembrance of it appears to me but as a 
 tinted glass, through which I am enabled to con- 
 template the full sun of my happiness. 
 
 Yvonne in these ten years has changed but to 
 grow more beautiful. Bodily, there was, I think, 
 no room for that change ; but growth is the law of 
 such a spirit as hers, and so into her perfect eyes, 
 wells of light as of old, has come a deeper and 
 more immeasurable wisdom. As to this perennial 
 potency of her beauty, I know that I am not de- 
 luded by my passion ; for I perceive the homage 
 it compels from all who come within its beneficent 
 influence. Even her mother, a laughingly mali- 
 cious critic, tells me that my eyes see true in this 
 (for Giles de Lamourie, having sold his ample 
 acres in Nova Scotia, and forgiven ancient grudges, 
 has come here to live with Yvonne). Father 
 Fafard, when he visits us from his Bonaventure 
 parish, says the same ; but his eyes are blind 
 with loving prejudice. When we go into Montreal 
 for the months of December and January, ex- 
 changing for a little the quiet of our country 
 home for the glitter of rout and function, no other
 
 Of Long Felicity, Brief Word 287 
 
 court so choice, so loyal, and so revering as that 
 which Yvonne gathers about her. The wise, 
 drawn by her wit, are held fast by her beauty ; 
 while the gay, drawn by her beauty, rise to a wor- 
 ship of her wit and worth. 
 
 Yvonne's small hands are white and alive and 
 restless as on that day in the Grand Pre orchard 
 when, prying into the heart of the apple-blossom, 
 they pried into and set fast hold upon the strings 
 of my heart also. But this life of mine, given 
 into the keeping of their sweet restlessness, has 
 found the secret of rest. 
 
 One thing more of her, and I have done with 
 this narrative ; for they who live blest have little 
 need or power to depict their happiness. It 
 seems to me, in looking back and forward, that 
 my wife delights particularly in setting at naught 
 the cheap wisdom of the maxim-mongers. How 
 continually are men heard to declare, with the 
 tongue of Sir Oracle : " We don't woo what is 
 well won " ! 
 
 But Yvonne, well won these ten years back, I 
 woo again continually, and our daily life together 
 is never without the spur of fresh interest and 
 further possibilities. 
 
 " The familiar is held cheap," say the disap- 
 pointed ; and " Use dulls the edge of passion," say 
 they whose passion has never known the edge 
 which finely tempered spirits take on.
 
 288 A Sister to Evangeline 
 
 But familiarity, the crucial intimacy of day by 
 day companionship, only reveals to me in Yvonne 
 the richer reasons for my reverence ; while passion 
 grows but the more poignant as it realizes the 
 exhaustless depths of the nature which responds 
 to it. 
 
 The mean poverty of these maxims I had half 
 suspected even before I knew Yvonne. But one, 
 more universally accepted, to the effect that 
 " Anticipation beggars reality," had ever caused 
 me a certain fear, lest it might prove true. The 
 husband of my dear love has fathomed its false- 
 hood, and anticipation, in my case, was little 
 moderate in its demands. If there be any germ 
 of truth under that long-triumphant lie, then the 
 reason we two have not discovered it must be 
 sought in another life than this. This life cannot 
 be the full reality. Even so, my confident faith is 
 that the .lying adage will but seem to lie the more 
 shamelessly under a fuller revelation. Many times 
 have I told Yvonne that to me one life seemed 
 not enough for love of her. 
 
 As I conclude, I look across the room to where 
 the beautiful, dark, proud head bends over her 
 desk ; for she has outstripped me in my own art 
 of letters, and only my old achievements with the 
 sword enable me to maintain that dominance 
 which the husband, even of Yvonne, ought to 
 have.
 
 Of Long Felicity, Brief Word 289 
 
 She will not approve these last few pages. She 
 will demand their erasure, declaring them extrava- 
 gant and an offence against the reticence of tru'e 
 art. 
 
 But not one line will I expunge, for they are 
 true. 
 
 THE END.
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time. Library 
 size. Printed on excellent paper most of them with illustra- 
 tions of marked beauty and handsomely bound in cloth. 
 Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 THE AFFAIR AT THE INN. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 
 
 With illustrations by Martin Justice. 
 
 " As superlatively clever in the writing as it is entertaining in the 
 reading. It is actual comedy of the most artistic sort, and it is 
 handled with a freshness and originality that is unquestionably 
 novel." Boston Transcript. " A feast of humor and good cheer, 
 yet subtly pervaded by special shades of feeling, fancy, tenderness, 
 or whimsicality. A merry thing in prose. '* St. Louis Democrat. 
 
 ROSE O' THE RIVER. By Kate Douglas Wiggin. With 
 
 illustrations by George Wright. 
 " ' Rose o' the River," a charming bit of sentiment, gracefully 
 
 Record-Herald. "An idyllic story, replete with pathos and inimita- 
 ble humor. As story-telling it is perfection, and as portrait-painting 
 it is true to the life. London Mail. 
 
 TILLIE: A Mennonite Maid. By Helen R. Martin. With 
 
 illustrations by Florence Scovel Shinn. 
 
 The little " Mennonite Maid " who wanders through these pages 
 is something quite new in fiction. Tillie is hungry for books and 
 beauty and love ; and she comes into her inheritance at the end. 
 " Tillie is faulty, sensitive, big-hearted, eminently human, and first, 
 last and always lovable. Her charm glows warmly, the story is well 
 handled, the characters skilfully developed." The Book Buyer. 
 
 LADY ROSE'S DAUGHTER. By Mrs. Humphry Ward. 
 
 With illustrations by Howard Chandler Christy. 
 ' The most marvellous work of its wonderful author." New York 
 World. "We touch regions and attain altitudes which it is not given 
 to the ordinary novelist even to approach." London Times. "In 
 no other story has Mrs. Ward approached the brilliancy and vivacity 
 of Lady Rose's Daughter." North American Review. 
 
 THE BANKER AND THE BEAR. By Henry K. Webster. 
 " An exciting and absorbing story." New York Times. "Intense- 
 ly thrilling in parts, but an unusually good story all through. There 
 is a love affair of real charm and most novel surroundings, there is a 
 run on the bank which is almost worth a year's growth, and there is 
 all manner of exhilarating men and deeds which should bring the 
 book into high and permanent favor." Chicago Evening Post. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, - NEW YORK
 
 FAMOUS COPYRIGHT BOOKS 
 IN POPULAR PRICED EDITIONS 
 
 Re-issues of the great literary successes of the time. Library 
 size. Printed on excellent paper most of them with illustra- 
 tions of marked beauty and handsomely bound in cloth. 
 Price, 75 cents a volume, postpaid. 
 
 BARREL OF THE BLESSED ISLES. By Irving Bach- 
 
 eller. With illustrations by Arthur Keller. 
 "Barrel, the clock tinker, is a wit, philosopher, and man of mystery. 
 Learned, strong, kindly, dignified, he towers like a giant above the 
 people among whom he lives. It is another tale of the North Coun- 
 try, full of the odor of wood and field. Wit, humor, pathos and high 
 thinking are in this book." Boston Transcript. 
 
 D'RI AND I : A Tale of Daring Deeds in the Second War 
 with the British. Being the Memoirs of Colonel Ramon 
 Bell, U. S. A. By Irving Bacheller. With illustrations by 
 F. C. Yohn. 
 
 " Mr. Bacheller is admirable alike in his scenes of peace and war. 
 D'ri, a mighty hunter, has the same dry humor as Uncle Eb. He 
 fights magnificently on the ' Lawrence,' and was among the wounded 
 when Perry went to the ' Niagara." As a romance of early American 
 history it is great for the enthusiasm it creates." New York Times. 
 
 EBEN H OLDEN : A Tale of the North Country. By Irving 
 
 Bacheller. 
 
 " As pure as water and as good as bread," says Mr. Howells. "Read 
 ' Eben Holden ' " is the advice of Margaret Sangster. " It is a forest- 
 scented, fresh-aired, bracing and wholly American story of country 
 and town life. * * * If in the far future our successors wish to 
 know what were the real life and atmosphere in which the country 
 folk that saved this nation grew, loved, wrought and had their being, 
 they must go back to such true and zestfuland poetic tales of 'fiction' 
 as ' Eben Holden,' " says Edmund Clarence Stedman. 
 
 SILAS STRONG: Emperor of the Woods. By Irving Bach- 
 eller. With a frontispiece. 
 
 " A modern Leatherstocking. Brings the city dweller the aroma of 
 the pine and the music of the wind m its branches an epic poem 
 * * * forest-scented, fresh-aired, and wholly American. A stronger 
 character than Eben Holden." Chicago Record-Herald. 
 
 VERGILIUS: A Tale of the Coming of Christ. By Irving 
 Bacheller. 
 
 A thrilling and beautiful story of two young Roman patricians whose 
 great and perilous love in the reign of Augustus leads them through 
 the momentous, exciting events that marked the year just preceding 
 the birth of Christ. 
 
 Splendid character studies of the Emperor Augustus, of Herod and 
 his degenerate son, Antipater, and of his daughter "the incomparable'* 
 Salome. A great triumph in the art of historical portrait painting. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, - NEW YORK
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 Form L9-Series 444
 
 1: 
 
 5s 
 
 t 
 
 PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE 
 THIS BOOK CARD ^ 
 
 University Research Library