Rose à Charlitte

by Marshall Saunders

  CHAPTER VII.

  A DEADLOCK.

  "I found the fullest summer here Between these sloping meadow-hills and yon; And came all beauty then, from dawn to dawn, Whether the tide was veiled or flowing clear."

  J. F. H.

  Three days later, Vesper had only two friends in Sleeping Water,--thatis, only two open friends. He knew he had a secret one in Mrs. Rose aCharlitte, who waited on him with the air of a sorrowing saint.

  The open friends were the child Narcisse, and Emmanuel Victor de laRive, the mail-driver. Rose could not keep her child away from thehandsome stranger. Narcisse had fallen into a passionate adoration forhim, and even in his dreams prattled of the Englishman from Boston.

  On the third night of Vesper's stay in Sleeping Water a violentthunder-storm arose. Lying in his bed and watching the weird lighting upof the Bay under the vivid discharges of electricity, he heard afumbling at his door-knob, and, upon unlocking the door, discoveredNarcisse, pale and seraphic, in a long white nightgown, and with beadsof distress on his forehead.

  "Mr. Englishman," he said to Vesper, who now understood his childishlingo, "I come to you, for my mother sleeps soundly, and she cannot tellme when she wakes,--the trees and the flowers, are they not in aterrible fright?" and, holding up his gown with one hand, he wentswiftly to the window, and pointed out towards the willows, writhing andtwisting in the wind, and the gentle flowers laid low on the earth.

  A yellow glare lighted up the room, a terrible peal of thunder shook thehouse, but the child did not quail, and stood waiting for an answer tohis question.

  "Come here," said Vesper, calmly, "and I will explain to you that thethunder does not hurt them, and that they have a way of bending beforethe blast."

  Narcisse immediately drew his pink heels up over the side of Vesper'sbed. He was unspeakably soothed by the merest word of this stranger, inwhose nervous sensitiveness and reserve he found a spirit more congenialto his own than in that of his physically perfect mother.

  Vesper talked to him for some time, and the child at last fell asleep,his tiny hand clasping a scapulary on his breast, his pretty lipsmurmuring to the picture on it, "Good St. Joseph, Mr. Englishman saysthat only a few of the trees and flowers are hurt by the storm. Watchover the little willows and the small lilies while I sleep, and do notlet them be harmed."

  Vesper at first patiently and kindly endured the pressure of the curlyhead laid on his arm. He would like to have a beautiful child like thisfor his own. Then thoughts of his childhood began to steal over him. Heremembered climbing into his father's bed, gazing worshipfully into hisface, and stroking his handsome head.

  "O God, my father!" he muttered, "I have lost him," and, unable toendure the presence of the child, he softly waked him. "Go back to yourmother, Narcisse. She may miss you."

  The child sleepily obeyed him, and went to continue his dreams by hismother's side, while Vesper lay awake until the morning, a prey torecollections at once tender and painful.

  Vesper's second friend, the mail-driver, never failed to call on himevery morning. If one could put a stamp on a letter it was permissibleat any point on the route to call, "_Arrete-toi_" (stop), to the crimsonflying bird. If one could not stamp a letter, it was illegal to detainhim.

  Vesper never had, however, to call "_Arrete-toi_." Of his own accordEmmanuel Victor de la Rive, upon arriving before the inn, would flingthe reins over his pony's back, and spring nimbly out. He was sure tofind Vesper lolling on the seat under the willows, or lying in thehammock, with Narcisse somewhere near, whereupon he would seat himselffor a few minutes, and in his own courteous and curious way would askvarious and sundry questions of this stranger, who had fascinated himalmost as completely as he had Narcisse.

  On the morning after the thunder-storm he had fallen into an admirationof Vesper's beautiful white teeth. Were they all his own, and notartificial? With such teeth he could marry any woman. He was a bachelornow, was he not? Did he always intend to remain one? How much longerwould he stay in Sleeping Water? And Vesper, parrying his questions withhis usual skill, sent him away with his ears full of polite sentencesthat, when he came to analyze them, conveyed not a single item ofinformation to his surprised brain.

  However, he felt no resentment towards Vesper. His admiration rosesuperior to any rebuffs. It even soared above the warning intimations hereceived from many Acadiens to the effect that he was laying himselfopen to hostile criticism by his intercourse with the enemy within thecamp.

  Vesper was amused by him, and on this particular morning, after heleft, he lay back in the hammock, his mind enjoyably dwelling on thecharacteristics of the volatile Acadien.

  Narcisse, who stood beside him in the centre of the bare spot on thelawn, by the hammock, in vain begged for a story, and at last, losingpatience, knelt down and put his head to the ground. The Englishman hadtold him that each grass-blade came up from the earth with a tale on thetip of its quivering tongue, and that all might hear who bent an ear tolisten. Narcisse wished to get news of the storm in the night, andreally fancied that the grass-blades told him it had prevailed in thebowels of the earth. He sprang up to impart the news to Vesper, andAgapit, who was passing down the lane by the house to the street,scowled, disapprovingly, at the pretty, wagging head and animatedgestures.

  Vesper gazed after him, and paid no attention to Narcisse. "I wonder,"he murmured, languidly, "what spell holds me in the neighborhood of thisAcadien demagogue who has turned his following against me. It must bethe Bay," and in a trance of pleasure he surveyed its sparkling surface.

  Always beautiful,--never the same. Was ever another sheet of water sowholly charming, was ever another occupation so fitted for unstrungnerves as this placid watching of its varying humors and tumults?

  This morning it was like crystal. A fleet of small boats was dancing outto the deep sea fishing-grounds, and three brown-sailed schooners weregliding up the Bay to mysterious waters unknown to him. As soon as hegrew stronger, he must follow them up to the rolling country and thefertile fields beyond Sleeping Water. Just now the mere thought ofleaving the inn filled him with nervous apprehension, and he startedpainfully and irritably as the sharp clang of the dinner-bell rang outthrough the open windows of the house.

  Followed by Narcisse, he sauntered to the table, where he caused Rose aCharlitte's heart a succession of pangs and anxieties.

  "He does not like my cooking; he eats nothing," she said, mournfully, toAgapit, who was taking a substantial dinner at the kitchen table.

  "I wish that he would go away," said Agapit, "I hate his insolent face."

  "But he is not insolent," said Rose, pleadingly. "It is only that hedoes not care for us; he is likely rich, and we are but poor."

  "Do many millionaires come to thy quiet inn?" asked Agapit, ironically.

  Rose reluctantly admitted that, so far, her patrons had not been peopleof wealth.

  "He is probably a beggar," said Agapit. "He has paid thee nothing yet. Idare say he has only old clothes in that trunk of his. Perhaps he wasforced to leave his home. He intends to spend the rest of his lifehere."

  "If he would work," said Rose, timidly, "he could earn his board. Ifthou goest away, I shall need a man for the stable."

  "Look at his white hands," said Agapit, "he is lazy,--and dost thouthink I would leave thee with that young sprig? His character may be ofthe worst. What do we know of him?" and he tramped out to the stable,while Mrs. Rose confusedly withdrew to her pantry.

  An hour later, while Agapit was grooming Toochune, the thoroughbredblack horse that was the wonder of the Bay, Narcisse came and stood inthe stable door, and for a long time silently watched him.

  Then he heaved a small sigh. He was thinking neither of the horse nor ofAgapit, and said, wistfully, "The Englishman from Boston sleeps as wellas my mother. I have tried to wake him, but I cannot."

>   Agapit paid no attention to him, but the matter was weighing on thechild's mind, and after a time he continued, "His face is very white, aswhite as the breast of the ducks."

  "His face is always white," growled Agapit.

  Narcisse went away, and sat patiently down by the hammock, while Agapit,who kept an eye on him despite himself, took occasion a little later togo to the garden, ostensibly to mend a hole in the fence, in reality topeer through the willows at Vesper.

  What he saw caused him to drop his knife, and go to the well, whereCelina was drawing a bucket of water.

  "The Englishman has fainted," he said, and he took the bucket from her.Celina ran after him, and watched him thrust Narcisse aside and dash ahandful of water in Vesper's marble, immobile face.

  Narcisse raised one of his tiny fists and struck Agapit a smart blow,and, in spite of their concern for the Englishman, both the grown peopleturned and stared in surprise at him. For the first time they saw thesweet-tempered child in a rage.

  "Go away," he said, in a choking voice, "you shall not hurt him."

  "Hush, little rabbit," said the young man. "I try to do him good.Christophe! Christophe!" and he hailed an Acadien who was passing alongthe road. "Come assist me to carry the Englishman into the house. Thisis something worse than a faint."