CHAPTER XVI
EVANGELINE'S COUNTRY
"I will admit that what he is saying is perfectly true."
"And absolutely necessary, Martine, to our understanding properly thisland of Evangeline."
"But he needn't talk so conceitedly, as if he were the only one in theworld who knows that there was no real Basil, nor Gabriel, and thatEvangeline herself was somebody else. Why, even in Chicago, where we arefarther away from Acadia than you are in Massachusetts, we know that.But just listen,"--and as Martine and Amy stood there in silence a fewfeet from the willows, they heard Mr. Knight's rather shrill voicesaying:
"I am aware that you Americans have mapped out almost every inch ofGrand Pre, and that you can point out the site of Basil's smithy, andGabriel's house, and the old church, although as a matter of fact onlythe last is at all certain. It is quite natural that you should acceptyour Longfellow as real history, but--"
Here Martine could restrain herself no longer. Stepping forward shefaced Mr. Knight, who stopped talking in his surprise at her suddenappearance from the background; and in a clear voice she began torecite:
"'with a summons sonorous Sounded the bell from its tower, and over the meadows a drum beat. Thronged erelong was the church with men. Without, in the churchyard, Waited the women. They stood by the graves, and hung on the headstones Garlands of autumn-leaves and evergreens fresh from the forest. Then came the guard from the ships, and marching proudly among them Entered the sacred portal. With loud and dissonant clangor Echoed the sound of their brazen drums from ceiling and casement.'
Isn't that history," she asked gravely, "as well as Longfellow?"
"Why, yes, in a general way," responded Mr. Knight, with an amusedsmile. "As to details, why, I am not quite so sure, though I can assureyou I have no intention of questioning Mr. Longfellow's accuracy. Farfrom it. His picture of the deportation is wonderfully complete."
"Yet you were criticising him."
"Oh, no, only the tendency of some tourists to connect everything in theneighborhood of Grand Pre with something mentioned by Longfellow."
"But if it makes the place more interesting," began Martine.
"Oh, certainly, that is one of the uses of poetry, and really, MissStratford, I intended no criticism of 'Evangeline,' only--" and againthat smile of amusement--"you will pardon me when I say that these arenot Evangeline's willows, as some call them, except in the poeticsense."
"They are very picturesque," said Amy, in an effort to turn theconversation. "Until I came to Nova Scotia I had never thought ofwillows as so strong and sturdy. In fact, I had in mind only the weepingvariety."
The line of willows, a dozen or so beside the rail fence, with two orthree cows grazing in their shade, formed a picture so tempting thatPriscilla turned her camera upon it, and with a wave of her hand pointedto something beyond. In a minute or two Mrs. Redmond and Amy were besideher, with Mr. Knight and Martine but a step behind.
"Shall you object if we call this Evangeline's well?" asked Martine,with a touch of scorn in her voice.
"Ah, call it what you please, Miss Stratford. It is certainly an oldFrench well. Evangeline may have drunk from it."
"Is it quite safe to drink from an old well?"
"Oh, mamma, you are not usually so anxious."
"I can assure you, Mrs. Redmond, that this is pure water. The wall wasbuilt a few years ago, and you will find the water deliciously cold.This well, by the way, is probably near the site of the priest's house;"and involuntarily he glanced toward Martine.
"Oh," she rejoined, as if in answer to his glance, "I thought that therewas no priest--except in the poem."
"Ah, surely there had been a priest, though not Father Felician; andindeed at the time of the deportation the priest was away from GrandPre, a prisoner at Halifax, and so he could not exhort the people. Butthese are mere matters of detail. Undoubtedly we are now standing verynear the site of the church."
"I wonder if the bells are hidden in the earth like those we heard of atAnnapolis," and Amy turned to Martine with a smile, hoping to divert herfrom quizzing Mr. Knight.
"Ah, the bells!" exclaimed the offending young man. "There is astory--if you should care for it."
"By all means," replied Mrs. Redmond; and under the embarrassing gaze offour pairs of eyes Mr. Knight told his tale.
"It isn't a remarkable story in any way, only they say that when theAcadians saw that they were prisoners, some of them managed to take downthe bell and wall it up in one of the vaults under the church, while thechurch treasure was put in the other. Years afterwards, in the days ofthe English settlers, a strange vessel was seen in the Basin one night.People who passed this way thought they heard queer noises during thenight, and in the morning the ground near the site of the old church wasdisturbed. Some people said that in the night they had heard a bellringing. That night there came a terrible storm, and soon bits ofwreckage drifted in that must have come from the strange vessel. In thisway every one believed that the theft had been avenged--if the strangersstole the bell and the treasure. It is only fair to say," continued Mr.Knight, "that some believe that the bell was taken by returning Acadianswho wished to set it up in an Acadian chapel on the Gaspe coast. At anyrate, there are people still living who have heard their parents saythat at certain times they can hear the distant ringing of this GrandPre bell."
"How weird!" cried Martine. "Are there any more stories like that? Ilove them."
"Oh, there are some others connected with buried treasures, but an evilfate was usually supposed to attend those who grew suddenly rich byunearthing Acadian treasure; and there are tales of ghostly fires on St.John's eve; and other stories used to trouble me very much when I wassmall and had to pass lonely places in the night."
"Oho," thought Martine, though she said nothing, "then it is as Ithought; he is easily scared."
"At the time of the deportation," said Mr. Knight, as they took theirplaces again in the carriage, "the water came much nearer the village.Since the days of the Acadians thousands of acres of dyke-lands havebeen reclaimed. When the Connecticut settlers came they found many dykesbroken, through which the sea was rolling in, and they might have had ahard time repairing them if they had not found a few Acadians still leftin the country, who had managed to escape the English and were lurkingin the neighborhood of their old homes."
"That reminds me," said Priscilla; "who were the Acadians, that is,where did they come from in the first place? I have never thought ofthis before."
"Why, Priscilla, they were--" then Amy stopped, not feeling quite sureof her ground.
"Oh, they were French, from--" and Martine could get no farther.
"Of course they were French, but why did they know so much about dykesand such things?"
When no one else seemed inclined to answer the question, Mr. Knightundertook to reply.
"The Acadians of Grand Pre, like the Acadians of Annapolis, were nearlyall descended from a group of peasants from Rochelle, Pictou, andSaintonge, who came out with D'Aunay and Razilly about 1630. They camefrom a region of marshes, and they brought with them the art of buildingdykes. The _aboiteaux_ that they built were marvels, and before you gowe must try to show you one of the dykes at low tide, when all thewonderful method of building will be displayed. Pierre Terriau, by theway, was the name of the first Acadian to settle in the Grand Preregion. He came to the shores of the Habitant in 1671. Others soonjoined him. The people at Minas were so shut off from Port Royal thatthey grew very independent. Indeed, this desire to escape the closeobservation of those at the Fort was what sent Acadians from Port Royalto this new region. In time there were three parishes in Minas,--St.Joseph, St. Charles, and Grand Pre,--and the people were like one greatfamily, constantly inter-marrying, and always ready to help one another.
"'Neither locks had they to their doors, nor bars to their windows; But their dwellings were open as day and the hearts of the owners; There the richest was poor, and the poore
st lived in abundance,'
as your Longfellow says;" and Martine, had she been inclined, might havetaken this as an apology for the disrespect she had imagined cast on herpoet a little earlier.
But there was no time now to discuss either Longfellow or the Acadians.Before the party stretched the broad dyke-lands, where already manyfarmers were cutting hay, while here and there were mammoth haystacks.
Priscilla snapped her camera at a hay wagon with a larger load than anyshe had ever seen, drawn by two of the heaviest, sleekest oxen; Amy madea few notes in her diary; Mrs. Redmond sighed for her palette andsketch-book; and Martine exclaimed loudly on the richness of color, thevivid green of the marshes, the unclouded blue of the sky, and thericher blue of the water, with a glimpse here and there of reddishshores, and above all Blomidon, the magnificent, showing up in thedistance, like a veritable giant.
"Have you seen all that you care to see at Grand Pre?" asked Mr. Knight,politely, with a "Here, driver, draw up for a last look at Blomidonbefore we turn toward Avonport."
"How dark it looks now!" exclaimed Amy, pointing to the promontory.
"That is because the sun no longer shines on it," replied Mr. Knight"Listen to one of our poets:
"'This is that black bastion, based in surge, Pregnant with agate and with amethyst, Whose foot the tides of storied Minas scourge, Whose top austere withdraws into its mist.
* * * * *
"'Yonder, across these reeling fields of foam, Came the sad threat of the avenging ships. What profit now to know if just the doom, Though harsh. The streaming eyes, the praying lips, The shadow of inextinguishable pain, The poet's deathless music, these remain.'"
"Have we seen all that we can see?" interrupted Martine, untouched bythe poetical tribute to her Acadians. She was determined to show noappreciation of anything said by Mr. Knight.
"Have we seen all that we can see?" repeated Martine, adding with somesharpness, "I thought that there would be much more."
"Well, I am sure--" and Mr. Knight hesitated, "I am sorry--but thereisn't so very much--you know all the Acadian houses were burnt, and it'sjust a modern village--the old Covenanter Church is perhaps the oldestthing--and you've seen the old well and the willows and the things thatwe point out to Americans."
"There it is!" thought Martine, "that same patronizing tone when hespeaks of Americans."
"Oh, there is one thing," continued the unhappy young man, consciousnow, as at all times, of Martine's disapproval, "I should have shown youthe little ridge near the station where Colonel Noble and one of hissoldiers were buried, after that terrible fight in 1747. You rememberthe French had only seven killed to the one hundred English who wereslaughtered."
"That was a cowardly attack," said Amy, warmly.
"But it was the real French, and not the Acadians, who wereresponsible," interposed Martine.
"Yet the Acadians helped--at least as guides."
"This pleasant country has certainly witnessed a great deal of tragedy."Mrs. Redmond's voice was that of the peacemaker.
"Yet through it all Blomidon has remained there calm and placid." Up tothis time Priscilla had had little to say.
"But Glooscap, the deity of the Micmacs," responded Mrs. Redmond,--"youremember that after the white men came to Minas, displeased with theirteachings, he fled away, and has never been seen since.
"'You can see yourself Five Islands Glooscap flung at him that day, When from Blomidon to Sharp he tore the Beaver's dam away. Cleared the channel, and the waters thundered out into the Bay. Here he left us--see the orchards, red and gold in every tree! All the land from Gaspereau to Portapique and Cheverie, All the garden lands of Minas and a passage out to sea.'"
"Why, mamma, I never heard you quote poetry--at such length."
"Perhaps you thought that I couldn't, but this is a Canadian poet, andlater you must read more of the myths grouped around Glooscap."
"Oh, I know that Blomidon was his home, and Minas his beaver-pond, andSpencer Island used to be his kettle that he tipped upside down when hedeserted Acadia, and two rocks there in the Bay were once his dogs thathe turned to stone at the same time. He never was cruel, never grew old,and was never to die, and so I suppose that the Indians are lookingconstantly for him to come back and restore their own to them."
"As to that," said the serious Mr. Knight, "the Indians in Nova Scotiaare much better off than in the days of Glooscap. They may sit side byside with white children in almost all the schools of the country. Manyof them live on land of their own, and raise live stock--thoughunluckily they prefer ponies to heifers, and in every way the governmentis fitting them for the full responsibilities of citizenship."
"Oh, dear," sighed Martine, laying her hand on Amy's and leaning forwardso that those on the back seat might not hear. "What a regularschoolmaster he is! He is more improving even than you, Miss AmyRedmond. But listen--how much more appreciative is our dear Priscilla."
In spite of herself Amy could but smile as Priscilla's gentle voice cameto her. "Thank you, Mr. Knight; the present condition of the Indiansinterests me very much, and I have made a note of what you have said toreport at one of our Indian Aid Association meetings when I returnhome," whereat the driver of their vehicle laughed, chuckled, and shookhis head.
"I'd like to show her some specimen Micmacs," he said to Martine, "thatcome round here oftener than once in a while, and have some distance totravel before they are fully fitted for the responsibilities ofcitizenship."
"Now, ladies, a last look at Blomidon," cried Mr. Knight, as thecarriage took a sharp turn, and then, after one long, backward look,they pressed on and drove westward toward Avonport.
"Dear Prissie," said Martine, when at last they stood on the broadbeach, "you have been a very good girl to-day." Priscilla, reddening ather words, made no reply.
"Yes, you have been very good," continued Martine, "and when Mr. Knightrecalls this afternoon he will remember with pleasure the closeattention that you have given to his every word."
"Oh, Martine, how absurd you are; I never heard you talk so pompouslybefore."
"This is the effect of a few hours spent with an eloquent guide,philosopher, and friend. Poor Amy is under the spell now; he seems to beteaching her geology."
Looking in the direction of the spot where they had left Mrs. Redmondand Amy, Priscilla saw that Mr. Knight was pointing at the stones withhis walking-stick, as if they were diagrams on a blackboard.
"He is probably explaining the rock formation," said Priscilla,solemnly. "My guidebook says that the region has great geologicalinterest."
"Then let us go off by ourselves somewhere, for if he gets the chance hewill try to teach us all he knows, and really, I could not stand anymore instruction to-day. Come, Prissie."
At first Priscilla hesitated.
"Do come; we'll have such a good chance to study those rocks and cragsby ourselves."
"I'd rather wait for the others, but still--"
"That's a good girl;" and, half dragging Priscilla by the arm, Martineset off rapidly toward the bold cliffs that promised them moreentertainment than they had had that afternoon.
"There are sure to be shells," said Martine, "and perhaps curiousseaweeds in some of the little pools. The tide is so high thatundoubtedly there are many strange things washed up here."
Martine was correct in her surmises, and for half an hour the two feltlike explorers as they picked their way from stone to stone, fillingtheir hands with trophies.
"Isn't it fun?" cried Martine. "I feel as if we were quite alone in theworld. We can just enjoy ourselves without thinking of history orgeology, or anything else."
"I wonder if the others will be worried," said Priscilla, who herselfwas not quite sure that she enjoyed this sensation of being quite alonein the world, with nobody near but Martine.
"Of course they won't be worried. We shall be back before they even missus. Besides, I'd like to worry Mr. Knight."
Priscilla looked at her watch. "I think that we ought to return now; wehave been gone more than half an hour."
"Oh, not yet--but listen; some one is calling. It is Mr. Knight. 'Youngladies, young ladies,'" and Martine mimicked the tones that now wereborne quite clearly to their ears. "I just won't have him find us, andlead us back as if we were two children who had done something that weshouldn't; let us hide behind these rocks until he passes."
Somewhat against her will Priscilla allowed herself to be led into arocky nook where a jutting ledge hid them effectually from anypasser-by.
So Mr. Knight, walking along the cliffs above them, even had he peereddown to the lower level, could hardly have seen them. His "Young ladies,young ladies, we're starting home now," grew feebler and feebler, andwhen Martine had assured herself that he was really a safe distanceaway, she came out from her hiding-place with a cry of "Danger past."
"We mustn't stay here too long," remonstrated Priscilla; "Mrs. Redmondwill be worried."
"I am perfectly willing to go now," replied Martine, "since Mr. Knightwon't lead me by the nose. We had a hard climb to this grotto, but itwill be much easier going down."
Hardly had Martine spoken when Priscilla, who was a few steps ahead ofher, turned back with a cry of alarm.
"Look, Martine; what shall we do?"
Stepping up beside her friend, Martine too exclaimed in surprise.
"Do you suppose it will come any higher? I have heard of the rapid riseof the tide, but this has just rushed in."
Even in that first quick glance both girls realized that they were in acritical position. In going up to the "grotto," as Martine called it,they had taken no notice of tide-water marks, such as both of them mighthave observed. The rocky arms by which they had ascended were nowcovered by water, and an incoming wave dashed over Priscilla's feet asthey stood there, uncertain what to do.
"Will it come all the way in? We shall be drenched if it does."
"No," said Martine, turning about and inspecting the nook where they hadbeen standing when they heard Mr. Knight's voice.
"You can see that if the last high tide had come in lately as far asthat little hollow, there would be some water there now. Instead, it isperfectly dry. You can prove that for yourself."
"Yes, yes, you are right; by standing back here we can at least keepdry, but oh, dear, when shall we get out?"
"Probably not until Mr. Knight rescues us," replied Martine, cheerfully,"and even he will hardly come to our relief until low tide, which isprobably some hours away."
Whatever the real danger, Priscilla and Martine saw at once that theywere in a very disagreeable predicament. The little niche in which alonethey could have a dry footing on three sides had steep walls, whoseheight at the lowest was surely twenty feet. Martine scanned the sidescarefully, but the stone surface was perfectly smooth. Nowhere was therea projection that offered the least foothold. It was in no way possiblefor either girl to climb to the top. Toward them flowed the advancingtide. It had entirely cut them off from the path by which they hadreached the grotto, and though it might not be dangerously deep at everypoint of the beach and rocks that it now covered, neither girl hadcourage to venture into the water.
Martine indeed had proposed to wade as far as it seemed safe, and then,if necessary, swim to some point where she might get a footing.
"No, no," Priscilla had remonstrated, "you might in some way miss theothers, and if you had to wait around for some time in your wet clothesyou would be really worse off than you are now--and besides, I shouldhate to be left here all alone."
"It might be a waste of energy," replied Martine, "for surely the tidecannot come up to this little hollow; so it is only a question of timewhen we shall get out of this. But it does seem to me that so unusuallyclever a person as that Mr. Knight thinks himself might have found usbefore this."
"You aren't quite fair, Martine, for he certainly was just above ushere, calling with all his might. I dare say that he even looked overthe edge. You hid yourself so completely, and made me hide too, so thatwhen he looked he could not see us. He must think that we went inexactly the opposite direction, and he and the others are probably amile away now, searching for us."
"I do not care how much bother Mr. Knight has, but I do regret puttingMrs. Redmond and Amy to such trouble. Why did you come with me,Priscilla? If you had refused we shouldn't have got into this scrape."
"Oh, Martine, when you fairly dragged me here! Surely you are unjust."
Martine knew that she was unjust but like many persons who realize theirown foolishness, she experienced a certain relief for the present inblaming some one else.
"It will be hours," she grumbled, "before the tide will be low enough tolet us out for it is still coming in, and we shall be kept here for sometime after it turns."
"If we get out before dark I shall be thankful. It will be terriblydisagreeable to find ourselves alone here in the dark."
"Oh, it won't be as bad as that!" Martine's voice became suddenlycheerful. Self-reproach had taken hold of her. What if Priscilla shouldreally suffer from this escapade? As if in answer to her thoughts,Priscilla coughed once or twice.
"There it is," thought Martine; "Priscilla is away for her health, and Imay undo all the good of the summer. It will be a great disappointmentto Mrs. Redmond, as well as to Priscilla's mother. They both expected somuch from this trip." Which reflections showed that Martine wascertainly not a villain of the deepest dye. Had she been hardened inperversity she could not so soon have reached a state of repentance.
But repentance without works avails little, and when Priscilla coughedfor a fourth time Martine became quite feverish with anxiety.
Two large clouds in the distance seemed to her to indicate a comingstorm. Wretched enough would their condition be if they should be caughtby a heavy rain while they were in this exposed position.