CHAPTER X
EXPLORATIONS
"How very gay your attire, Martine! Do you think of paying afternoonvisits?"
"No, my dear Amy, I do not, because I know no one to visit; but I'mtired of cloth skirts and a shirt-waist, and I thought I would like tosee how it would feel to wear something decent."
Martine's gown was a pale blue voile, made up over a bright blue lining,with a delicate white insertion on the waist; her hat, a blue chip,trimmed with white flowers, and she carried a parasol to match.
"Is your gown quite suitable for a walk on a dusty road?"
"Perhaps it isn't," responded Martine, "but sometimes one must live upto her feelings, and this is how I feel to-day,--like wearing my verybest; besides, this is nothing remarkable, this dress, but it happens tobe the best I have with me."
"Very well," and Amy sighed; "it's no use to argue with you, and as soonas Priscilla comes downstairs we'll set off."
When Priscilla appeared, she, like Amy, had a short cloth skirt andshirt-waist, but she made no comment on the elegance of Martine'sappearance.
There was one thing rather incongruous in Martine's aspect,--she carrieda small shovel, which looked as if it had never been used; such, indeed,was the case, and as she brandished it she said cheerfully, "I hope weshall go somewhere where we can dig. I hear there's any amount of hiddentreasure around Annapolis, and I am anxious to get some of it formyself."
The girls walked a good while before they saw anything likely to rewardan amateur antiquarian. Then, in a field quite outside the town,Martine's sharp eyes saw something that interested her. In a moment shewas over the fence, with the others following.
"There," she said excitedly, "you see these very old, gnarledapple-trees and this clump of willows; I'm perfectly sure that this usedto be an Acadian farm."
"That's a safe guess," rejoined Amy, "for all the land about here wasonce in the hands of the Acadians."
"Yes, but I think from this little mound and that hollow beside it thatthere was a house on this very spot. I noticed what Dr. Gray said whenhe was talking to your mother last evening, and that was what decided meto do some digging for myself."
"In a blue voile dress," responded Amy, in a tone of disapproval. "Ah,Martine, you are so absurd!"
Even while Amy was speaking Martine had begun to dig,--aimlessly, ofcourse, although in a few minutes she had made a fairly large hole. Whenher shovel struck something hard she was delighted, but, digging deeper,she brought up only a piece of broken brick. Undiscouraged, she dug oneside of the first hole, and presently she held out to Amy what at firstpuzzled them both. It looked like a mere bit of rusty iron, but laterthey decided that it was probably part of an old lock.
"Which I shall label 'Exhibit No. 1' in my museum of curiosities," saidMartine.
"Let me see what I can do," cried Amy; "you must be tired."
So Martine surrendered her shovel, and in a quarter of an hour Amybrought up an old bottle, not at all remarkable in shape, but veryvaluable from Martine's point of view, because it was undoubtedly anAcadian trophy.
Priscilla contented herself with some slips from an ancient willow-tree.
"It is not the best time of year for making cuttings," she said, "butthese French willows cling to life as closely as the proverbial cat. Iheard of a man who had a walking-stick cut from a willow-tree. It lookedas hard and dry as a bone, but one day he happened to stick it in theground near a spring and forgot all about it. Some time afterwards, whenhe passed, the walking-stick was sending out little shoots, and in timeit became a full-fledged willow-tree."
"That's a very good story," commented Martine, "and as we know you nevertell anything but the exact truth, Priscilla, neither Amy nor I wouldthink of doubting it."
As the trio were walking back toward town they met Mrs. Redmond,driving.
"Come," she cried, "which two of you will drive with me? You slipped offthis afternoon without my realizing that you were going away, and now Iwant company."
"I would rather stroll along," replied Amy, "but I am sure that Martineand Priscilla would enjoy the drive. Martine is turning antiquarian, andif your driver can take you to some old grave or Indian mound, she willbe delighted to use her shovel."
"I don't know what I can promise in the way of graves and mounds, but ifMartine comes with me I can offer her a lovely view."
"If you please, Mrs. Redmond," said Priscilla, "I would rather walk backhome than drive."
Although Amy tried to make her change her mind, Priscilla was firm, andthe discussion ended by Amy's getting into the carriage with Martine andMrs. Redmond.
As she walked along the main street, where the houses were still ratherfar apart, Priscilla noticed a little graveyard in a corner of a garden.As the gate was open, she felt at liberty to walk inside. The stones atwhich she glanced were of marble, and the inscriptions were well cut.The names on two or three of them were French, and the men who bore themhad evidently been officers in the English army. This interested her,and when she saw a girl of about her own age standing at the door of acottage near by, she felt emboldened to speak to her.
"They were not really French," said the girl, in answer to her question,"but of Huguenot family, who fought for the King in the Revolution. I'veheard my mother say that one of them was a cousin of her grandmother's,and they all came here together at the close of the war."
Priscilla was delighted. Here, perhaps, was a person who would tell hersomething about the Loyalists of the Revolution.
"Were your people Loyalists?" she asked.
"Why, of course," was the reply, as if anything else were unsupposable.
"Oh, I'm so glad!" responded Priscilla. "I've been waiting to hear moreabout the Loyalists."
"You are an American?" questioned the girl. "Americans are not apt tocare about Loyalists; they seem to think only about the Acadians; but myancestors were all Loyalists, and if you will just come into the housemy mother would love to talk to you."
So Priscilla followed her new acquaintance indoors. Outside, the houselooked small, but within she found many rooms opening one into another,none of them very large, and all of them with low ceilings.
"My mother's great-grandfather built this house when he first came fromNew York. He was an officer in the Loyal American Regiment. There is hiscommission; we framed it to hang on the wall."
"By His Excellency Sir Henry Clinton, K. B., General andCommander-in-Chief of all His Majesty's Forces within the Colonies lyingon the Atlantic Ocean, from Nova Scotia to West Florida inclusive, etc.,etc., etc.
"By Virtue of the Power and Authority in Me vested, I DO herebyconstitute and appoint You to be Captain of a Company in the LoyalAmerican Regiment commanded by Colonel Beverly Robinson."
Priscilla read the whole commission in which the duties of the newlymade captain were defined, to the very end where the signature of SirHenry Clinton still stood out clearly.
While the new acquaintance went to call her mother, Priscilla lookedaround the pleasant sitting-room. There was a high, old-fashionedbookcase filled with books, many of them in dingy calf bindings. Theyoung girl returned while she was looking at them, expressing her regretthat her mother was not at home.
"My grandfather brought many of these books from New York," she said;"he was a nephew of the rector of Trinity Church, and was himself agraduate of King's College, New York."
"I don't see how they had the courage to give up everything and comedown here so far away. Even if they did not like the new government, Ishould think they would rather have stayed where most of their friendsand relatives were."
"Oh, it wasn't always a matter of choice," rejoined Eunice, for this,Priscilla discovered, was her new friend's name; "some had to come,because they had been too active in the King's cause and the other sidewould not forgive them. Even after the Peace many were in danger ofimprisonment; and then a great many had had all their propertyconfiscated, and thought it would be easier to start over again downhere than to live in poverty amo
ng their old friends and neighbors."
Priscilla looked in amazement at Eunice. She expressed herself so muchmore carefully than most girls of her age.
"Martine would call her quaint," thought Priscilla, looking at her, "andif she knows as much about other things as she does about history, shemust be a wonder."
"I wish my mother were here," said Eunice, politely. "She gets quiteworked up when she talks about the Loyalists."
"I should think she would," responded Priscilla. "They certainly had ahard time."
"She thinks that we have been cut off from things that really are ourown, and now, when we have so little money that I can't even afford togo away to college, she feels more and more indignant at the injusticeof it all."
Priscilla did not know exactly what to say. In her mind there was astruggle between her feeling of patriotism and her sense of justice. AsEunice had put it, it did not seem fair that the Loyalists should havelost everything, simply because they had had the courage to hold out forthe King. But a phrase came into her mind that she had often heard, andfor the moment it seemed the only sentiment that she could express.
"After all," she said gently, "I suppose it was the 'fortune of war'that your people suffered so much."
"Oh, yes," responded Eunice, "that is what I often say to my mother; andthen I tell her too, that in one hundred and twenty-five years thefamily probably would have lost all the property they had before theRevolution."
Finding that the subject was getting a little beyond her, Priscillaventured a more general remark.
"There must be many interesting historical incidents connected withAnnapolis; I mean, incidents that are not French," she concludedhastily. "I am just a little tired, myself, of the Acadians."
"I don't know of many very entertaining things," responded Eunice, "butI remember one story that might amuse you. During the Revolution, thepeople of Annapolis were awfully afraid of attacks from Privateers. Yousee, after the Acadians were driven out a large colony from New Englandcame down here. They received grants of land from the government, andwere very prosperous when the war began. Many were on the side of theYankees, but in the end England was able to hold Nova Scotia. However,the small privateering vessels were constantly coming into Nova Scotiaports, and even Annapolis wasn't perfectly safe. One night two rebelschooners came up to the mouth of the river; they had about eighty men,and landed them safely, because the sentry at the fort was asleep. Theyentered the houses and stirred people up immensely; they seemed morebent on making mischief than in doing any real violence. There were notmany citizens here in the town then, but one of them, looking from thewindow when he heard a noise in the street, saw two of the rebelsdisputing over something they had stolen; when they saw him at thewindow, they dashed into his house, and a minute or two afterwardsanother Annapolis man, only half dressed, rushed excitedly into the roomto tell his friend that the Yankees were plundering the town; this wasunnecessary information, because, as I have said, two rebels werealready in the house. He discovered them with their bayonets pointed athim just as he had finished telling his story, and he was so surprisedthat he fell backward over a cradle, with his feet in the air. Hiscomical appearance made the rebels laugh so, that he afterwards saidthat this saved his life, for before they had recovered he had jumped tohis feet and run away. But later he and all the other able-bodiedcitizens were shut up in the fort, while the men from the schooners wentthrough the houses and carried away everything movable. They allowed theladies to keep their shoes, though they first removed the silverbuckles. The schooners disappeared in the morning, when the report wasspread around that the militia of the county were gathering and comingto Annapolis. That, I believe, was the only attack on Annapolis duringthe Revolution. It happened two or three years before the arrival of therefugees, and the accounts of it that have been handed down alwaysrepresented it as a very comical affair."
"Did you say 'Yankees'?" asked Priscilla. "Did you mean--"
"Oh, I meant schooners from New England; I've heard they were from CapeCod," replied Eunice.
"It was pretty small business," said Priscilla, almost apologetically."I don't believe that the men on the schooners were either soldiers orsailors. I am sure that Washington wouldn't have approved if he hadknown."
"You don't think that all on your side were good, do you," asked Eunice,"and that all on ours were bad?"
Priscilla hardly knew what to reply. She was getting again into deepwater, for she saw that although the war was long over, Eunice was stilla strong partisan. So, as a kind of peace-offering, she asked Eunice ifshe would not walk back home with her.
"I should like to have you meet my friends whom I am travelling with,"she said. "We are going to stay in Annapolis a week or more. Mrs.Redmond is making some beautiful sketches, and her daughter Amy is justdear; she is older than Martine and I, but she never makes us feel thedifference in our ages, and she knows more than almost anybody I eversaw."
"I should love to walk back with you," said Eunice, "though I cannotstay very long. What is Martine like?" she asked abruptly.
"Oh, Martine,--well, Martine is different. She always sees the funnyside of things, and she doesn't care what anything costs if she happensto want it. She's perfectly devoted to the French, and I'm so terriblytired of her Acadians that I want to find out what the English did inAnnapolis."
"I will be glad to do what I can to help you," responded Eunice, "onlyyou mustn't be too touchy about things; for you see we're still allEnglish down here."
As Priscilla walked back to the boarding-house she congratulated herselfon her new friend; for although she had known Eunice so short a time,she already regarded her as much more than an ordinary acquaintance.
"I can always tell," she said to herself, "whether any one is going towear well. Mother says that that is the only test for real friends, andI can see that Eunice and I are likely to be more than acquaintances. Ifeel as if I had known her a long time. Now it wasn't so with Martine,and even though we have been together so much this summer, some way Idon't feel perfectly comfortable with her. I'd like to be fair, butstill--"
Yes, Priscilla meant to be fair, but still--what was the trouble? It isto be feared that she had not yet learned the real meaning of tolerance.Martine's point of view was often so unlike hers that Priscilla did notmake enough effort to put herself in her friend's place. While believingherself just, she certainly permitted herself to be biassed little inher judgments. Nor did she realize that Martine herself often spoke inan exaggerated tone, chiefly for the purpose of seeing to what extentshe could impose on Priscilla; for Martine, discovering Priscilla'sattitude toward her, liked to say things to surprise her,--"PuritanPrissie," as she called her at these times.
It would not be quite true, perhaps, to say that Priscilla distrustedMartine's interest in Yvonne, although she had a strong conviction thatit was merely impulse that had led her to promise so much.
"For the day that we spent at Meteghan, Yvonne was like a new playthingto her. Had Martine been with Yvonne a week, it would have been thesame; she would have lavished things on her, and would have been readyto promise her anything. But 'out of sight, out of mind;' I believe thatthat is always the way with her. I am not even sure that she is as fondof Mrs. Redmond and Amy as she seems to be."
Poor Priscilla! she was really borrowing trouble needlessly, and yet inmore senses than one it was real trouble to her, because she was neversure just how she ought to respond to the more flippant remarks made byMartine. They were often so witty that she could not help laughing, evenwhen she felt the greatest need of preserving her own dignity.
Another grievance was Martine's way of addressing Amy. Priscilla herselfhad begun by trying to say "Miss Redmond;" occasionally she slipped into"Amy," but more usually "Miss Amy" was her form of address. Martine hadlaughed loudly at this, and one day she said, "It is what I call tooservile. Amy is not greatly our superior, but still I'd rather call herMiss Redmond. I notice that Fritz Tomkins in some of his letters says'Miss Amy
Redmond.' I wonder if that would do for us?"
"Oh, Amy--that is, Miss Redmond--explained that it was just his way ofmaking fun of her when he says 'Miss Amy Redmond.'"
"Probably, but when I can't think of anything else I will say that,though generally Amy is good enough for me, and here she is, looking assweet as a rose." Whereupon, without the slightest regard for thedignity with which Priscilla would have liked to hedge Amy, Martine hadthrown herself upon the older girl's neck, to the destruction ofsomething less ideal than her dignity; to wit, the freshness of hermuslin stock.
Thinking of this scene, Priscilla sighed. "Eunice would never do or sayanything silly." This goes to show that she did indeed regard Eunice asa kindred spirit.