Rose à Charlitte

by Marshall Saunders

  CHAPTER X.

  BACK TO THE CONCESSION.

  "And Nature hath remembered, for a trace Of calm Acadien life yet holds command, Where, undisturbed, the rustling willows stand, And the curved grass, telling the breeze's pace."

  J. F. H.

  Mrs. Rose a Charlitte served her dinner in the middle of the day. Thesix o'clock meal she called supper.

  With feminine insight she noticed, at supper, on a day a week later,that her guest was more quiet than usual, and even dull in humor.

  Agapit, who was nearly always in high spirits, and always very muchabsorbed in himself, came bustling in,--sobered down for one minute tocross himself, and reverently repeat a _benedicite_, then launched intoa voluble and enjoyable conversation on the subject of which he nevertired,--his beloved countrymen, the Acadiens.

  Rose withdrew to the innermost recesses of her pantry. "Do you knowthese little berries?" she asked, coming back, and setting a glassdish, full of a thick, whitish preserve, before Vesper.

  "No," he said, absently, "what are they?"

  "They are _poudabre_, or _capillaire_,--waxen berries that grow deep inthe woods. They hide their little selves under leaves, yet the childrenfind them. They are expensive, and we do not buy many, yet perhaps youwill find them excellent."

  "They are delicious," said Vesper, tasting them.

  "Give me also some," said Agapit, with pretended jealousy. "It is notoften that we are favored with _poudabre_."

  "There are yours beside your plate," said Rose, mischievously; "youhave, if anything, more than Mr. Nimmo."

  She very seldom mentioned Vesper's name. It sounded foreign on her lips,and he usually liked to hear her. This evening he paid no attention toher, and, with a trace of disappointment in her manner, she went away tothe kitchen.

  After Vesper left the table she came back. "Agapit, the young man isdull."

  "I assure thee," said Agapit, in French, and very dictatorially, "he isas gay as he usually is."

  "He is never gay, but this evening he is troubled."

  Agapit grew uneasy. "Dost thou think he will again become ill?"

  Rose's brilliant face became pale. "I trust not. Ah, that would beterrible!"

  "Possibly he thinks of something. Where is his mother?"

  "Above, in her room. Some books came from Boston in a box, and shereads. Go to him, Agapit; talk not of the dear dead, but of the living.Seek not to find out in what his dullness consists, and do not sayabrupt things, but gentle. Remember all the kind sayings that thouknowest about women. Say that they are constant if they truly love. Theydo not forget."

  Agapit's fingers remained motionless in the bowl of the big pipe that hewas filling with tobacco. "_Ma foi_, but thou art eloquent. What hascome over thee?"

  "Nothing, nothing," she said, hurriedly, "I only wonder whether hethinks of his _fiancee_."

  "How dost thou know he has a _fiancee_?"

  "I do not know, I guess. Surely, so handsome a young man must belongalready to some woman."

  "Ah,--probably. Rose, I am glad that thou hast never been a coquette."

  "And why should I be one?" she asked, wonderingly.

  "Why, thou hast ways,--sly ways, like most women, and thou art meek andgentle, else why do men run after thee, thou little bleating lamb?"

  Rose made him no answer beyond a shrug of her shoulders.

  "But thou wilt not marry. Is it not so?" he continued, with tremulouseagerness. "It is better for thee to remain single and guard thy child."

  She looked up at him wistfully, then, as solemnly as if she were takinga vow, she murmured, "I do not know all things, but I think I shallnever marry."

  Agapit could scarcely contain his delight. He laid a hand on hershoulder, and exclaimed, "My good little cousin!" Then he lighted hispipe and smoked in ecstatic silence.

  Rose occupied herself with clearing the things from the table, until asudden thought struck Agapit. "Leave all that for Celina. Let us take adrive, you and I and the little one. Thou hast been much in the houselately."

  "But Mr. Nimmo--will it be kind to leave him?"

  "He can come if he will, but thou must also ask madame. Go then, while Iharness Toochune."

  "I am not ready," said Rose, shrinking back.

  "Ready!" laughed Agapit. "I will make thee ready," and he pulled hershawl and handkerchief from a peg near the kitchen door.

  "I had the intention of wearing my hat," faltered Rose.

  "Absurdity! keep it for mass, and save thy money. Go ask the young man,while I am at the stable."

  Rose meekly put on the shawl and the handkerchief, and went to the frontof the house.

  Vesper stood in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back. Shecould only see his curly head, a bit of his cheek, and the tip of hismustache. At the sound of her light step he turned around, and his facebrightened.

  "Look at the sunset," he said, kindly, when she stood in embarrassmentbefore him. "It is remarkable."

  It was indeed remarkable. A blood-red sun was shouldering his way in andout of a wide dull mass of gray cloud that was unrelieved by a singlefleck of color.

  Rose looked at the sky, and Vesper looked at her, and thought of agrieving Madonna. She had been so gay and cheerful lately. What hadhappened to call that expression of divine tenderness and sympathy toher face? He had never seen her so ethereal and so spirituallybeautiful, not even when she was bending over his sick-bed. What a restand a pleasure to weary eyes she was, in her black artistic garments,and how pure was the oval of her face, how becoming the touch ofbrownness on the fair skin. The silk handkerchief knotted under her chinand pulled hood-wise over the shock of flaxen hair combed up from theforehead, which two or three little curls caressed daintily, gave thefinishing touch of quaintness and out-of-the-worldness to herappearance.

  "You are feeling slightly blue this evening, are you not?" he asked.

  "Blue,--that means one's thoughts are black?" said Rose, bringing herglance back to him.

  "Yes."

  "Then I am a very little blue," she said, frankly. "This inn is like theworld to me. When those about me are sad, I, too, am sad. Sometimes Igrieve when strangers go,--for days in advance I have a weight at heart.When they leave, I shut myself in my room. For others I do not care."

  "And are you melancholy this evening because you are thinking that mymother and I must soon leave?"

  Her eyes filled with tears. "No; I did not think of that, but I do now."

  "Then what was wrong with you?"

  "Nothing, since you are again cheerful," she said, in tones so dolefulthat Vesper burst into one of his rare laughs, and Rose, laughing withhim, brushed the tears from her face.

  "There was something running in my mind that made me feel gloomy," hesaid, after a short silence. "It has been haunting me all day."

  Her eager glance was a prayer to him to share the cause of hisunhappiness with her, and he recited, in a low, penetrating voice, thelines:

  "Mon Dieu, pour fuir la mort n'est-il aucun moyen? Quoi? Dans un jour peut-etre immobile et glace.... Aujourd'hui avenir, le monde, la pensee Et puis, demain, ... plus rien."

  Rose had never heard anything like this, and she was troubled, andturned her blue eyes to the sky, where a trailing white cloud wassoaring above the dark cloud-bank below. "It is like a soul going up toour Lord," she murmured, reverently.

  Vesper would not shock her further with his heterodoxy. "Forget what Isaid," he went on, lightly, "and let me beg you never to put anything onyour head but that handkerchief. You Acadien women wear it with such anair."

  "But it is because we know how to tie it. Look,--this is how the Italianwomen in Boston carry those colored ones," and, pulling the piece ofsilk from her head, she arranged it in severe lines about her face.

  "A decided difference," Vesper was saying, when Agapit came around
thecorner of the house, driving Toochune, who was attached to a shiningdog-cart.

  "Are you going with us?" he called out.

  "I have not yet been asked."

  "Thou naughty Rose," exclaimed Agapit; but she had already hurriedup-stairs to invite Mrs. Nimmo to accompany them. "Madame, your mother,prefers to read," she said, when she came back, "therefore Narcisse willcome."

  "Mount beside me," said Agapit to Vesper; "Rose and Narcisse will sit inthe background."

  "No," said Vesper, and he calmly assisted Rose to the front seat, thenextended a hand to swing Narcisse up beside her. The child, however,clung to him, and Vesper was obliged to take him in the back seat, wherehe sat nodding his head and looking like a big perfumed flower in hisdrooping hat and picturesque pink trousers.

  "You smile," said Agapit, who had suddenly twisted his head around.

  "I always do," said Vesper, "for the space of five minutes after gettinginto this cart."

  "But why?"

  "Well--an amusing contrast presents itself to my mind."

  "And the contrast, what is it?"

  "I am driving with a modern Evangeline, who is not the owner of therough cart that I would have fancied her in, a few weeks ago, but of atrap that would be an ornament to Commonwealth Avenue."

  "Am I the modern Evangeline?" said Agapit, in his breakneck fashion.

  "To my mind she was embodied in the person of your cousin," and Vesperbowed in a sidewise fashion towards his landlady.

  Rose crimsoned with pleasure. "But do you think I am likeEvangeline,--she was so dark, so beautiful?"

  "You are passable, Rose, passable," interjected Agapit, "but you lackthe passion, the fortitude of the heroine of Mr. Nimmo's immortalcountryman, whom all Acadiens venerate. Alas! only the poets andstory-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 completelysubdued them, and had become unusually vivacious.

  "She has never loved,--she cannot. Rose, did you love your husband as Idid _la belle Marguerite_?"

  "My husband was older,--he was as a father," stammered Rose. "CertainlyI did not tear my hair, I did not beat my foot on the ground when hedied, 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 haddiscovered something new and peculiar in the shape of young manhood."Hear what she always says when young men, and often old men, drive upand say, 'Rose a Charlitte, will you marry me?' She says, 'Love,--it isall nonsense. You make all that.' Is it not so, Rose?"

  "Yes," she replied, almost inaudibly; "I have said it."

  "You make all that," repeated Agapit, triumphantly. "They can rave andcry,--they can say, 'My heart is breaking;' and she responds,'Love,--there is no such thing. You make all that.' And yet you call heran Evangeline, a martyr of love who laid her life on its holy altar."

  Rose was goaded into a response, and turned a flushed and puzzled faceto her cousin. "Agapit, I will explain that lately I do not care to say'You make all that.' I comprehend--possibly because the blacksmith talksso much to me of his wish towards my sister--that one does not makelove. It is something that grows slowly, in the breast, like a flower.Therefore, do not say that I am of ice or stone."

  "But you do not care to marry,--you just come from telling me so."

  "Yes; I am not for marriage," she said, modestly, "yet do not say that Iunderstand not. It is a beautiful thing to love."

  "It is," said Agapit, "yet do not think of it, since thou dost not carefor a husband. Let thy thoughts run on thy cooking. Thou wert born forthat. I think that thou must have arrived in this world with a littlestew-pan in thy hand, a tasting fork hanging at thy girdle. Do not wishto be an Evangeline or to read books. Figure to yourself, Mr.Nimmo,"--and he turned his head to the back seat,--"that last night shecame to my room, she begged me for an English book,--she who says oftento Narcisse, 'I will shake thee, my little one, if thou usest Englishwords.' She says now that she wishes to learn,--she finds herselfforgetful of many things that she learned in the convent. I said, 'Go tobed, thou silly fool. Thy eyes are burning and have black rings aroundthem 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 forgetthee; not even when I go out into the world. Some day I will send forthee 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."

  For some time the cousins chattered on and endeavored to snatch aglimpse, in "time's long and dark prospective glass," of Agapit's futurewife, while Vesper listened to them with as much indulgence as if theyhad been two children. He was just endeavoring to fathom the rationaleof their curious interchange of _thou_ and _you_, when Agapit said, "Ifit is agreeable to you, we will drive back in the woods to theConcession. We have a cousin who is ill there,--see, here we pass thestation," and he pointed his whip at the gabled roof near them.

  The wheels of the dog-cart rolled smoothly over the iron rails, and theyentered upon a road bordered by sturdy evergreens that emitted adeliciously resinous odor and occasioned Mrs. Rose to murmur,reverently, "It is like mass; for from trees like these the altar boysget the gum for incense."

  Wild gooseberry and raspberry bushes lined the roadside, and under theirfruit-laden branches grew many wild flowers. A man who stopped Agapit toaddress a few remarks to him gathered a handful of berries and a fewsprays of wild roses and tossed them in Narcisse's lap.

  The child uttered a polite, "_Merci, monsieur_" (thank you, sir), thensilently spread the flowers and berries on the lap rug and allowed tearsfrom his beautiful eyes to drop on them.

  Vesper took some of the berries in his hand, and carefully explained tothe sorrowing Narcisse that the sensitive shrubs did not shiver whentheir clothes were stripped from them and their hats pulled off. Theywere rather shaking their sides in laughter that they could givepleasure to so good and gentle a boy. And the flowers that bowed someekly when one wished to behead them, were trembling with delight tothink that they should be carried, for even a short time, by one wholoved them so well.

  Narcisse at last was comforted, and, drying his tears, he soberly atethe berries, and presented the roses to his mother in a brilliantnosegay, keeping only one that he lovingly fastened in his neck, whereit could brush against his cheek.

  Soon they were among the clearings in the forest. Back of every farmstood grim trees in serried rows, like soldiers about to close in on thegaps made in their ranks by the diligent hands of the Acadien farmers.The trees looked inexorable, but the farmers were more so. Here in thebackwoods so quiet and still, so favorable for farming, the forest mustgo as it had gone near the shore.

  About every farmhouse, men and women were engaged in driving in cows,tying up horses, shutting up poultry, feeding pigs, and performing thehundred and one duties that fall to the lot of a farmer's family.Everywhere were children. Each farmer seemed to have a quiver full ofthese quiet, well-behaved little creatures, who gazed shyly andcuriously at the dog-cart as it went driving by.

  When they came to a brawling, noisy river, having on its banks asaw-mill deserted for the night, Agapit exclaimed, "We are at lastarrived!"

  Close to the mill was a low, old-fashioned house, situated in the midstof an extensive apple orchard in which the fruit was already taking onsize and color.

  "They picked four hundred barrels from it last year," said Agapit, "ourcousins, the Kessys, who live here. They are rich, but very simple," andspringing out, he tied Toochune's head to the gate
post. "Now let usenter," he said, and he ushered Vesper into a small, dull room where anold woman of gigantic stature sat smoking by an open fireplace.

  Another tall woman, with soft black eyes, and wearing on her breast amedal of the congregation of St. Anne, took Rose away to the sick-room,while Agapit led Vesper and Narcisse to the fireplace. "Cousingrandmother, will you not tell this gentleman of the commencement of theBay?"

  The old woman, who was nearly sightless, took her pipe from her mouth,and turned her white head. "Does he speak French?"

  "Yes, yes," said Agapit, joyfully.

  A light came into her face,--a light that Vesper noticed always cameinto the faces of Acadiens, no matter how fluent their English, if headdressed them in their mother tongue.

  "I was born _en haut de la Baie_" (up the Bay), she began, softly.

  "Further than Sleeping Water,--towards Digby," said Agapit, in anundertone.

  "Near Bleury," she continued, "where there were only eight families. Inthe morning my mother would look out at the neighbors' chimneys; whereshe saw smoke she would send me, saying, 'Go, child, and borrow fire.'Ah! those were hard days. We had no roads. We walked over the beachfifteen miles to Pointe a l'Eglise to hear mass sung by the good Abbe.

  "There were plenty of fish, plenty of moose, but not so many boats inthose days. The hardships were great, so great that the weak died. Nowwhen my daughter sits and plays on the organ, I think of it. DavidKessy, my father, was very big. Once our wagon, loaded with twentybushels of potatoes, stuck in the mud. He put his shoulder against itand lifted it. Nowadays we would rig a jack, but my father was strong,so strong that he took insults, though he trembled, for he knew a blowfrom his hand would kill a man."

  The Acadienne paused, and fell into a gentle reverie, from which Agapit,who was stepping nimbly in and out of the room with jelly and otherdelicacies that he had brought for the invalid, soon roused her.

  "Tell him about the derangement, cousin grandmother," he vociferated inher ear, "and the march from Annapolis."