Marshall Saunders

“ She was actually starting, but Agapit caught her gently by the arm. "Bidiane, restrain yourself," and drawing her under the friendly shade of a solitary pine-tree that had been left when the garden was made, he smoothed her angry cheeks and kissed her hot forehead.
"You condone his offence,—you, also, some day, will leave me for some woman," she gasped.
"This from you to me," he said, quietly and proudly, "when you know that we Acadiens are proud of our virtue,—of the virtue of our women particularly; and if the women are pure, it is because the men are so." ”

“ I said, 'Go to bed, thou silly fool. Thy eyes are burning and have black rings around them the color of thy stove,' and she whimpered like a baby."
"Your cousin is an egotist, Mrs. Rose," said Vesper, over his shoulder. "I will lend you some books."
"Agapit is as a brother," she replied, simply.
"I have been a good brother to thee," he said, "and I will never forget thee; not even when I go out into the world. Some day I will send for thee to live with me and my wife."
"Perhaps thy wife will not let me," she said, demurely.
"Then she may leave me; I detest women who will not obey." ”

“ He has had a hard life, has my poor cousin, and now he understands the trials of others."
"Poverty is tiresome, but it is sometimes good for one," said Bidiane, wisely.
Rose's white teeth gleamed in sudden amusement. "Ah, the dear little parrot, she has been well trained."
Bidiane leaned out the window. There was Agapit, peering eagerly forward from the hood of his carriage, and staring up with some of the old apprehensiveness with which he used to approach her.
"What a dreadful child I was," reflected Bidiane, with a blush of shame. "He is yet afraid of me." ”

“ She listened abstractedly to the merry chatter of French in the air, and gazed disconsolately at the gloriously sunny Bay, where a few distant schooner sails stood up sharp against the sky like the white wings of birds.
At last she sighed heavily, and said, in a plaintive voice, "Vesper, are you not getting tired of Sleeping Water?"
He flicked his whip at a fly that was torturing Toochune, then said, calmly, "No, I am not."
"I never saw you so interested in a place," she observed, with a fretful side glance. "The travelling agents and loquacious peasants never seem to bore you." ”

“ But, lately, I resolve not to marry," and Rose turned her deep blue eyes, in which there was not a trace of craft or deceit, on her nervously apprehensive interlocutor, while Vesper murmured in the window above, "She is absolutely guileless, my mother; cast out of your mind that vague and formless suspicion."
Mrs. Nimmo, however, preferred to keep the suspicion, and not only to keep it, but to foster the stealthy creeping thing until it had taken on the rudiments of organized reflection.
"Some young people do not care for marriage," she said, after a long pause. "My son never has." ”

“ The Englishman had told him that each grass-blade came up from the earth with a tale on the tip of its quivering tongue, and that all might hear who bent an ear to listen. Narcisse wished to get news of the storm in the night, and really fancied that the grass-blades told him it had prevailed in the bowels of the earth. He sprang up to impart the news to Vesper, and Agapit, who was passing down the lane by the house to the street, scowled, disapprovingly, at the pretty, wagging head and animated gestures. ”

“ Agapit, who possessed a warm heart, an ardent imagination, and a lively regard for the other sex, was at present without a love-affair of his own, and his mind was therefore free to dwell on the troubles of Rose and Vesper. All night long he dreamed of lovers. They haunted him, tortured him with their griefs, misunderstandings, and afflictions, and, rather glad than sorry to awake from his disturbed sleep, he lifted his shaggy head from the pillow early in the morning and, vehemently shaking it, muttered, "The devil himself is in those who make love." ”

“ There were enough of them to kill those devilish English."
"Do all the Acadiens hate the English as much as you do?"
"I hate the English?" cried Agapit. "How grossly you deceive yourself!"
"What do you mean then by that strong language?"
Agapit threw himself into an excited attitude. "Let you dare—you youthful, proud young republic,—to insult our Canadian flag. You would see where stands Agapit LeNoir! England is the greatest nation in the world," and proudly swelling out his breast, he swept his glance over the majestic Bay before them. ”

“ Choked by some emotion, he had again turned to the door.
"I thank the blessed Virgin that I have been spared that sorrow," she murmured, closing her eyes, and allowing her flaxen lashes to softly brush her cheeks. "Once I could only grieve,—now I say perhaps it was well for me not to marry. If I had lost the love of a husband,—a true husband,—it would have killed me very quickly, and it would also have made him say that all women are stupid."
"Rose, thou art incomparable," said Agapit, half laughing, half frowning, and flinging himself back to the table. "No man would tire of thee. ”

“ Claudine gave her a hand. She was almost hysterical from listening to the groaning on ahead. "Since the day of my husband's death, I have not laughed so much," she said, winking away the nervous tears in her eyes. "I do not love fun as much as some people, but when I laugh, I laugh hard."
"My aunt will be in bed to-morrow," sighed Bidiane; "what a pity that she is such a goose."
"She is tough," giggled Claudine, "do not disturb yourself. It is you that I fear for." ”

“ Agapit, I wish to go home."
"I will send thee; but be quiet, speak not above thy breath. Tell me, has this Englishman—"
"The Englishman has done nothing," said Rose, brokenly, "except that in two days he goes back to the world."
"And dost thou care? Stop, let me see thy face. Rose, thou art like a sister to me. My poor one, my dear cousin, do not cry. Come, where is thy dignity, thy pride? Remember that Acadien women do not give their hearts; they must be begged."
"I remember," she said, resolutely. "I will be strong. Fear not, Agapit, and let us return. The women will be staring." ”

“ She will be soft and kind, yet she would die rather than live with Charlitte or surrender her child to him."
"But he may wish to stay here," faltered Bidiane.
"He will not stay with her, chérie. She is no longer a girl, but a woman. She is not resentful, yet Charlitte has sinned deeply against her, and she remembers,—and now I must return to her. Charlitte has little delicacy of feeling, and may stay too long."
"Wait a minute, Agapit,—is it her money that he is after?"
"No, little one, he is not mercenary. He would not take money from a woman. ”

“ They had arrived in front of the inn, and, although Agapit knew that she ought to go at once and put off her wet shoes, he still lingered, and said, delightedly, in low, cautious tones, "But, Bidiane, you have surely a little affection for me—and one short kiss—very short—certainly it would not be so wicked."
"If you do not love a man, it is a crime to embrace him," she said, with cold severity.
"Then I look forward to more gracious times," he replied. "Good night, little one, in twenty minutes I must be in Belliveau's Cove." ”

“ You have led Rose as a grown one leads a child. Before you came I did not revere her as I do at present. She is now so careful, she will not speak even the least of untruths; she wishes to improve herself,—to be more fitted for the company of the blessed in heaven."
Vesper made some inarticulate sound in his throat, and Agapit went on hurriedly. "Women are weak, men are imperious; she may, perhaps, do anything you say, but is it not well to think over exactly what one would tell her? She is in trouble now, but soon she will recover and look about her. She will see all the world equally so. ”

“ It seems [Pg 432] to me that, when I love, the dear one cannot be ugly."
"Understand me, Rose," said her cousin, earnestly; "once when I loved a woman she instantly became an angel, but one gets over that. Bidiane is even plain-looking to me. It is her soul, her spirit, that charms me,—that little restless, loving heart. If I could only put my hand on it, and say, 'Thou art mine,' I should be the happiest man in the world. She charms me because she changes. She is never the same; a man would never weary of her."
Rose's face became as pale as death. "Agapit, would a man weary of me?" ”

“ When one stands up, and speaks, and the human faces spreading out like a flower-bed change and lighten, or grow gloomy, as one wishes, it is majestic,—it makes a man feel like a deity."
"You will get on in the world," said Bidiane, impulsively. "You have it in you."
"But must I go alone?" he said, passionately. "Bidiane, you, though so much younger, you understand me. I have been happy to-day, yes, happy, for amid all the excitement, the changing faces, the buzzing of talk in my ears, there has been one little countenance before me—"
"Yes,—Rose's." ”

“ She started back, with a heart-broken gesture.
"But you are imbecile, my darling mother!" cried Narcisse, throwing himself on her in terror. "The Englishman will become angry,—he will leave us. Give him your hand, and let us go from this place," and, resolutely seizing her fluttering fingers in his own soft ones, he directed them to Vesper's strong, true clasp.
"Go stone the bears again, Narcisse," said the young man, with a strange quiver in his voice. "I will talk to your mother about going back to the inn. See, she is not well;" for Rose had bowed her weary head on her arm. ”

“ Vesper leaned on a chair-back, and convulsively clasped his fingers until every drop of blood seemed to have left them. "Why did he leave Rose?"
"Who can tell?" said Agapit, drearily. "Rose is beautiful; this other woman unbeautiful and older, much older. But Charlitte was always gross like a pig,—but good-natured. Rose was too fine, too spiritual. She smiled at him, she did not drink, nor dance, nor laugh loudly. These are the women he likes."
"How old is he?"
[Pg 233]
"Not old,—fifty, perhaps. If our Lord would only let him die! But those men live forever. He is strong, very strong." ”

“ I did wrong to mention him," said Bidiane, calmly.
"He is a diligent student; he will get on in the world," said Agapit, more thoughtfully.
"But without me,—I shall never marry."
"I know a man who loves you," said Agapit, cautiously.
"Do you?—well, don't tell me. Tell him, if you have his confidence, that he is a goose for his pains," and Bidiane reclined against her hammock cushions in supreme indifference.
"But he is very fond of you," said Agapit, with exquisite gentleness, "and very unhappy to think that you do not care for him."
Bidiane held her breath and favored him with a sharp glance. ”

“ Bidiane paused for an instant, and gazed over her shoulder. "Your old horse is nearly on my heels, and his eyes are like carriage lamps."
"Back!" exclaimed Agapit, to the curious and irrepressible Turenne.
"You say nothing of your election," remarked Bidiane. "Are you glad?"
He drew a rapid breath, and turned his red face towards her again. "My mind is in a whirl, little cousin, and my pulses are going like hammers. You do not know what it is to sway men by the tongue. ”

“ Vesper's tone was confident, yet Agapit looked anxiously at him through the gathering gloom. "It would be better for Rose not to see you."
"Agapit—we are not babies."
"No, you are worse,—it is well said that only our Lord loves lovers. No other would have patience."
Vesper held his straight figure a little straighter, and his manner warned the young Acadien to be careful of what he said, but he dashed on, "Words are brave; actions are braver."
"How is Madame de Forêt?" asked Vesper, shortly. ”

“ Possibly you are like Madame de Forêt, you do not care to marry."
"Perhaps I am waiting until she does, mademoiselle."
"I suppose you could not tell me," she said, in the dainty, coaxing tones of a child, "what it is that separates your cousin from Mr. Nimmo?"
"No, mademoiselle, I regret to say that I cannot."
"Is it something she can ever get over?"
"Possibly."
"You don't want to be teased about it. I will talk of something else; people don't marry very often after they are thirty. That is the dividing line."
Agapit dragged at his mustache with restless fingers. ”

“ Célina ran from the house, and Jovite from the stable, both shrieking with laughter. Only Agapit looked grave, and, snatching a hammock from a tree, he ran down the hill to the place where Rose stood with clasped hands.
"Where is Charlitte?" she cried, "and Emmanuel?—they were close together; I do not see them."
A sudden hush followed her words. Every man sprang to his feet. Emmanuel's red jacket was nowhere to be seen,—in the first excitement they had not missed him,—neither was Charlitte visible. ”

“ Agapit clapped his hat firmly on his head as a gust of wind whirled across the yard and tried to take it from him.
"We are always glad to see you here," said Bidiane, wistfully, as she watched him step across to the picket fence, where his white horse shone through the darkness; "though I suppose you have pleasant company in Weymouth. I have been introduced to some nice English girls from there."
"Yes, there are nice ones," he said. "I should like to see more of them, but I am usually busy in the afternoons and evenings."
"Do not work too hard,—that is a mistake. One must enjoy life a little." ”

“ Agapit could scarcely contain his delight. He grinned broadly at every one they met, tried to accommodate his pace to Vesper's, kept forgetting and striding ahead, and finally, cramming his hands in his pockets, fell behind and muttered, "I feel as if I had known you a hundred years."
"You didn't feel that way six weeks ago," said Vesper, good-humoredly.
"I blush for it,—I am ashamed, but can you blame me? Since days of long ago, Acadiens have been so much maligned. You do not find that we are worse than others?" ”

“ Rose, did you love your husband as I did la belle Marguerite?"
"My husband was older,—he was as a father," stammered Rose. "Certainly I did not tear my hair, I did not beat my foot on the ground when he died, as you did when la belle married the miller."
"Have you ever loved any man?" pursued Agapit, unmercifully.
"Oh, shut up, Agapit," muttered Vesper; "don't bully a woman."
Agapit turned to stare at him,—not angrily, but rather as if he had discovered something new and [Pg 131] peculiar in the shape of young manhood. ”

“ Rose crimsoned with pleasure. "But do you think I am like Evangeline,—she was so dark, so beautiful?"
"You are passable, Rose, passable," interjected Agapit, "but you lack the passion, the fortitude of the heroine of Mr. Nimmo's immortal countryman, whom all Acadiens venerate. Alas! only the poets and story-tellers have been true to Acadie. It is the historians who lie."
"Why do you think your cousin is lacking in passion and fortitude?" asked Vesper, who had either lost his gloomy thoughts, or had completely subdued them, and had become unusually vivacious.
"She has never loved,—she cannot. ”

“ Vesper leaned over the railing. What a sluggish, silent, stealthy river! He could perceive no flow in its reluctant waters. A few willows, natives, not French ones, swayed above it, and close to its edge [Pg 157] grew the tall grasses, rustling and whispering together as if imparting guilty secrets concerning the waters below.
"Which way does it go?" murmured Vesper; but Agapit did not hear him, for he was eagerly muttering: "A hateful river,—I never see a bird drink from it, there are no fishes in it, the lilies will not grow here, and the children fall in and are drowned ”