CHAPTER XV
WITH PREJUDICE
"Priscilla," said Amy, as they finished breakfast on their first morningat Wolfville, "you are no longer homesick."
"Did I say I was homesick?"
"Perhaps not in words, though you have looked it a great many times. ButI noticed a change during our last week in Annapolis; you have seemedperfectly cheerful ever since."
"Oh, I'm sorry," responded the over-conscientious Priscilla, "if Iseemed less than cheerful before; it was really very wrong in me, foryou and your mother have been so kind, and Martine is so very--" hereshe hesitated for a moment--"so very lively."
Amy smiled at Priscilla's earnestness.
"To most persons you would have seemed perfectly cheerful, but littlethings have shown me that your heart was not wholly with us."
"That was only because I had never before been altogether away from myfamily. But if there has been any change lately, it has been on accountof Eunice. She seems to me the most sensible person I have ever known,and I hope that she can carry out her plan of going to college. If papahad lived I could have done something for her, but now I can't make anypromises for the future, because mamma says that we shall have to bevery careful about spending for a few years."
"I'm glad, however," responded Amy, "that you have this interest inEunice, even if you cannot do all that you would like to do for her; itis rather curious that each of us should have found a protege in thecourse of our travels; Yvonne, Pierre, and Eunice, each one so unlikethe others, and yet all of them rather interesting."
"Martine, of course, can accomplish the most," and Priscilla sighed. "Iimagine that her father and mother never say 'no' to her."
"Money isn't everything," replied Amy, "and you and I can do more orless for Eunice and Pierre in spite of the fact that time and thoughtare the most we can give. I have often noticed that the person who has areal interest in the welfare of some one else can really accomplishthings in better ways than by spending money."
"Balfour wouldn't let any one spend much money on Eunice; he is so veryindependent, and wishes always to stand on his own feet. I never saw anyone just like him."
"I agree with you, Priscilla, and I feel that we owe much to him for allhe did for us in Annapolis; besides, he has given mother one or twoletters to people in Wolfville, so that I fancy we shall be somewhatindebted to him here."
A few moments later Amy, in her little bedroom, reread a letter receivedfrom Fritz that morning. Its tone was so cheerful that it ought to havehad an exhilarating effect on her; on the contrary, she was now lesshappy than before she received it. Fritz and his friend had alreadyreached Chester on the east coast, and he wrote most enthusiastically ofthe charms of this little watering-place. Not one word of regret did heutter now over his separation from Mrs. Redmond's party. His time wasapparently fully occupied with boating and driving excursions and otherpleasures of the conventional summer resort. One sentence only, at theend, suggested that he had not forgotten what he had previously said toAmy.
"I am surprised that you have travelled so comfortably, with not asingle accident to interfere with your pleasure; but if anythingdisagreeable should happen, then perhaps you will wish that you had somestronger person to help you out of your difficulty."
With a sigh Amy laid the letter in her bureau drawer, and as she did soher eye fell on an envelope addressed to Martine. Evidently she hadpicked it up with her own letters when she had brought them upstairs.The envelope was empty and hardly worth returning, but as she took it todrop into the waste basket, she looked, as one will, at the postmark. Toher surprise, it was the same, "Chester," as on her own letter fromFritz. Then her mind flew back to the morning at Yarmouth, when shethought she had seen Martine wheeling down the side street with anunknown youth. The inference was now plain--in some way Martine had madethe acquaintance of Fritz's friend, and was keeping up a correspondencewith him. There was nothing very wrong in this in itself, except that itimplied on Martine's part a certain amount of deception. "Taps," asFritz called him, might have been a perfectly desirable friend for allthe girls, and Fritz himself might have introduced him to Martine. Shehad had no opportunity to meet him on the boat. Yet even had he been anold friend of hers, there seemed to be no reason why she should notspeak frankly about him. The discovery of this envelope reconciled Amycompletely to Fritz's banishment. It was just as well that he and hisfriend had been sent off by themselves.
As to Martine, Amy decided that at present it was hardly well to speakto her of the letter, or even mention it to Mrs. Redmond. But for therest of the day she was less cordial than usual toward Martine, and theyoung girl felt the change.
When Amy returned to the piazza, where she had left the others, shefound only her mother and Martine. In a moment Priscilla joined them,looking bright and happy, and with unusual color in her fair cheeks.
"I've been down the street," she said, "and the town is so attractivethat you must all come with me on an exploring tour; I can't tell why,but I feel more at home here than in most places. Wolfville seems lessEnglish than Annapolis; in fact, it is more like one of our own NewEngland towns."
"That, I dare say," rejoined Mrs. Redmond, "is partly because it is acollege town, but more likely because it was settled by Americans. Ihave an idea that hardly a Loyalist came here after the Revolution."
"Settled by Americans?" cried Martine. "Wasn't this all French countrythrough here?"
"Yes--once--my dear. You remember, however, that after the French weredeported, their lands were granted to colonists from New England. Thosewho came to this part of Nova Scotia were chiefly from Connecticut, andWolfville is named for a well-known family of these colonists, named DeWolfe."
"Then this isn't Grand Pre?"
"Oh, no; there is still a Grand Pre two or three miles to the west, withrelics and memories without end, of Evangeline and Basil."
"Let us go there, then, as soon as we can," cried Martine.
"Not yet, my dear. We would better first see something nearer at hand;Mr. Knight, Balfour's friend, has offered to drive us to Grand Pre thisafternoon, and if this suits you all, I will send him a reply at once."
The three girls, agreeing that they should enjoy the afternoon drive,fell in with Mrs. Redmond's suggestion for a morning walk.
"I have been advised," said Mrs. Redmond, "to take a road behind thecollege, leading to the top of the ridge, where we can get a fine viewof the Gaspereau Valley."
Though it was a steep hill, the view from the summit repaid them by itssurpassing beauty. The deep valley, bordered with trees of varyingshades of green, the blue river flowing between, and toward its mouthswinding in and out among the marshes, formed a scene long to beremembered.
"If we could see to the very mouth," said Mrs. Redmond, "and bring ourimagination into full play, we could picture the poor Acadians gatheredin forlorn groups waiting to be dragged away to the English transports.Their pleasant homes were found all along the sides of this valley, aswell as at Grand Pre. Undoubtedly it is Longfellow's poem that has giventhe latter place its greater prominence."
Some distance along the ridge the four Americans continued to walk,until they reached a point from which they had a wider view; then forthe first time their eyes fell on the clear waters of Minas Basin. Onits farther shore rose a high, red bluff.
"Bluff," at least, was what Martine called it, but Priscilla, repeatingher words, exclaimed:
"No, no, it's a mountain; it must be."
Mrs. Redmond smiled at the emphasis that each girl threw into her words.
"My dear children," she exclaimed, "I should think that you'd at onceknow Blomidon; surely you must often have seen it pictured. Blomidon,you remember, was the home of Glooscap, the deity of the Micmacs, andMinas Basin was his beaver pond. Poets and painters have been inspiredby Blomidon, and I imagine, Martine, that you and I will even make someattempt to reproduce its beauty."
"Ah," sighed Martine, "but we could never give the effect of that lightand shade on
the side of the mountain, for it really is a mountain, asPriscilla says; and there's something quite wonderful in that deep redthat stands out so between the sky and the water."
"From Grand Pre we'll have an even better view, I'm told, of Blomidon.You are so fond of jewels, Martine, that you'll be tempted to cross theBasin to hunt for amethysts."
"That reminds me," said Amy, "of something I read the other day; when DeMonts visited the Basin, he called Blomidon, 'Cap d'Or.' Among theamethysts that he found on an island near by was one of extraordinarysize, which he took back to France and presented to the King and Queen,who had it set among the crown jewels."
"We cannot linger here much longer," said Mrs. Redmond; "if we take thislower road, it will probably bring us into the business section, andthen we can walk back home, along the main street."
When they had done their errands and were perhaps half-way home, Mrs.Redmond, who was ahead, looked back for a moment.
"Here, Amy, is something especially for you."
Amy hurried on and found herself at the entrance of a little graveyard.
"Oh, mamma, you are laughing at me."
There was a suspicious smile on Mrs. Redmond's lips as she said:
"Every one, my dear child, knows your _penchant_ for old graveyards, andthis one is so bright and cheerful that you might have missed it had Inot called your attention to it."
Following Mrs. Redmond and Amy, the others entered the enclosure. Itwas, as Mrs. Redmond had said, "bright and cheerful," with neatly keptwalks, and a little fountain playing in the centre. Evidently it was nolonger a place of burial. Many of the stones were more than a hundredyears old, and marked the resting-place of the first Connecticutsettlers.
"How far away they were," said Amy, "from their real home. After all, inspite of the rich dyke-lands given them here, I wonder if many of themdid not regret the homes they had left."
"That reminds me," said Priscilla, "of some lines I copied from a poemthe other day; Eunice had the book," and she turned over the leaves ofher note-book.
"Read them, please," said Mrs. Redmond. So Priscilla began rathertimidly, "The poem is 'The Resettlement of Acadia,' but I copied onlyparts of it," and then she read with expression:
"'But the simple Norman peasant-folk shall till the land no more, For the vessels from Connecticut have anchored by the shore, And many a sturdy Puritan, his mind with Scripture stored, Rejoices he has found at last "the garden of the Lord."
* * * * *
They come as Puritans, but who shall say their hearts are blind To the subtle charms of nature, and the love of humankind?
* * * * *
And tears fall fast from many an eye, long time unused to weep, For o'er the fields lay whitening the bones of cow and sheep.'"
"I know that you'll think me frightfully stupid," was Martine's comment,as Priscilla finished reading. "That is delightful poetry, but it isn'tclear in my mind who the Connecticut Puritans were. Were they exiles,too, like the Acadians and the Loyalists?"
"Only by their own will. But you are not stupid in failing to understandabout the resettling of Acadia. Many Nova Scotians know very littleabout it. After the French had been deported in 1755, this fertileProvince would have been of little service to England withoutinhabitants. The simplest way to repeople the land was to attractcolonists from the older colonies. So Governor Lawrence sent aproclamation to Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut, statingthe terms on which the Government would grant land to settlers. As aresult three separate groups of settlers were formed. The Massachusettsfamilies came to Annapolis; the Rhode Islanders to the country North ofGrand Pre, where there is now a Newport; and the Connecticut settlers,as Priscilla has just read, to Grand Pre. These people were of thehighest character. Many of them had considerable property of their own,and they came down here in the spirit that took so many sturdy NewEnglanders West a generation or two ago."
"Thank you, Mrs. Redmond; I am glad to know that they didn't drive theFrench out."
"Oh, no, many of them had undoubtedly seen the fertility of Nova Scotiaduring the long French and Indian Wars, in which they had fought; therichness of the country was pretty well understood. But they themselveshad nothing to do with deporting the Acadians. Dr. Gray explained allthis at Annapolis. But come, girls! You can copy these inscriptions someother day, Priscilla. We must rest a little now, if we expect to enjoythe afternoon."
When Mr. Knight called for them that afternoon the girls were surprisedat his appearance. Mrs. Redmond had forgotten to say that he was anextremely young man, whose youth seemed all the greater because he triedto assume the manners and aspect of a much older person. He had beengraduated from Acadia College a few years before, the youngest of hisclass by more than a year. He was now a teacher in the neighboringschool that fitted boys for Acadia, and on this account perhaps felt theneed of maintaining a dignity of demeanor that should make them forgethis youth.
His friendship for Balfour and his sincere admiration of the wholeAirton family ought to have saved him from Martine's ridicule. But fromthe moment that her eye took in the details of his costume,--hishigh-standing collar, his round-headed walking-stick, his monocle, andhis hair neatly parted in the middle (though this was hardly a detail ofcostume), she was convulsed with laughter. The carriage that Mr. Knighthad brought was two-seated, but each seat was wide enough for three, andthe pair of horses looked capable of travelling many miles withoutfatigue.
Martine and Priscilla begged for the front seat with the driver, and Mr.Knight, accordingly, sat on the back seat with Amy and Mrs. Redmond.
The party was soon outside the more closely built streets, on a broadroad that for the time offered little outlook. Mr. Knight, with theevident intention of doing his full duty by Balfour's friend kept up amonologue whose steady current afforded great amusement to Martine.
"Talk of babbling brooks," she murmured; "did you ever hear anythinglike it?" and she gave Priscilla's arm a gentle pinch that made hersquirm.
"He's taking any amount of trouble to make history clear," rejoinedPriscilla, who, as usual, was not ready to accept Martine's point ofview.
"Yes, but he's beginning at the wrong end. We know all about Champlain,and De Monts, and the Scotch Fort, and all that; what we want is how theAcadians were treated at Grand Pre, and where--"
"Oh, he'll get there."
"Yes, if we give him time. But I am going to make him change thesubject." So, leaning back, Martine turned to Mr. Knight, "You are agreat friend of Mr. Airton's, I believe."
"Oh, yes, indeed; that is--but of course you know--well, Mr. Airtonis--ah, not exactly a contemporary of mine--that is, he is--I am older."
Mr. Knight, as he spoke, grew rather red in the face. There seemed to beno excuse for his embarrassment, except the one that Mrs. Redmond gavelater, that he regarded Martine's question and her way of putting itmuch in the light of a question from an _enfant terrible_.
Realizing, however, that he had not said just the right thing, the pooryoung man next began to stammer in his effort to explain himself.
"Balfour certainly is a great friend of mine, and one of the finest boysI know."
This ought to have been sufficient to please even the critical Martine,and had Mr. Knight not used the word "boy" she might have been quitecontent. As it was, this word happened to irritate her, and sheresponded in a tone that disturbed Amy:
"Oh, did you say that Mr. Airton is younger than you? Isn't heconsiderably taller?"
If Mr. Knight's face had been red before, it now became almost a deep,deep crimson. Amy, rejoicing that her mother's seat was so far fromMartine's that she had not heard this remark, resolved at the earliestopportunity to have a word alone with Martine.
The opportunity, however, did not come for some time, and meanwhile Mr.Knight talked enthusiastically of the apple crops of Cornwallis, and ofthe fortune that any man might gather who would deal intelligently withthe Gravenstein.
"The Cornwallis Valley," he said, "is one of the finest farming regionsin the world. You will see what I mean when you go to the Look-off, asyou will while you are here. But now--"
"Oh, is this an old French church?" asked Martine, excitedly, as theyapproached an ancient wooden structure half hidden by Lombardy poplars.
If Mr. Knight heard her, he did not reply, but he jumped to the ground,even before the driver had fairly pulled up his horses, and then, whenthe carriage came to a full stop, offered to assist Mrs. Redmond to theground.
"This," he began, "is sometimes incorrectly called an Acadian church."
"Does he mean to snub me?" whispered Martine to Priscilla.
"Yet it is merely an old Scotch church," continued Mr. Knight, "builtabout a hundred years ago. A service is held here two or three times ayear, but the building receives no great care, and, as you can see, evensome of its windows have been broken by mischievous boys."
"Such as Balfour Airton?" suggested Martine. But Mr. Knight took nonotice of her flippant criticism of his previous remark about Balfour.
"It is like a New England meeting-house," said Amy, with a tinge ofdisappointment, as they looked inside the old building, noting its highpews, and sounding-board, and unadorned walls. Then, as she saw Martinestanding apart from the others, she remembered the words that she hadmeant to say to her. So, drawing near, she took the young girl's hand inhers. Martine looked up at her with a smile.
"I know that you have a scolding tucked away somewhere, but I just won'tlet you give it to me. It won't do me the least little bit of good, andyou wouldn't waste even a scolding, would you?"
"Oh, Martine, you are incorrigible; you surely realize that you need atleast a reproof. Mother would give it to you if she had heard."
"Mrs. Redmond is too sensible to overhear disagreeable things."
"Very well, Martine; but tell me honestly, wouldn't you prefer to sitwith mamma? She always has a soothing effect on you."
"That would bring me beside Mr. Knight. No, thanks. Surely, Amy, yourealize how ridiculous he is, talking in that patronizing way ofBalfour, who is a whole head taller than he."
"You forget, my dear child, that if he were not a great friend ofBalfour's we should not have had the pleasure of his escort thisafternoon. He is certainly most kind in taking all this trouble."
"I'll admit that he is very kind, though I dare say that we could havefound our way around without him. But he is ridiculous, isn't he, withhis walking-stick, and his English accent in an out-of-the-way placelike this?"
"As Wolfville has always been his home, Mr. Knight probably feels thathe has the right to a walking-stick or an English accent. If he had aFrench accent you would perhaps make greater allowances for him. But forthe sake of peace, if you don't object, I'll have Priscilla changeplaces with you. If you overhear anything you dislike, you may vent youranger on me. I do not wish Priscilla to be a victim."
"A victim! She doesn't realize that she is a victim now. Just look ather. She is hanging on every word that Mr. Knight utters--and it's allon account of his English accent."