CHAPTER XV.
THE CAVE OF THE BEARS.
"I had found out a sweet green spot, Where a lily was blooming fair; The din of the city disturbed it not; But the spirit that shades the quiet cot With its wings of love was there.
"I found that lily's bloom When the day was dark and chill; It smiled like a star in a misty gloom, And it sent abroad a sweet perfume, Which is floating around me still."
PERCIVAL.
More than twenty miles beyond Sleeping Water is a curious church builtof cobblestones.
Many years ago, the devoted priest of this parish resolved that hisflock must have a new church, and yet how were they to obtain onewithout money? He pondered over the problem for some time, and at lasthe arrived at a satisfactory solution. Would his parishioners give timeand labor, if he supplied the material for construction?
They would,--and he pointed to the stones on the beach. The Bay alreadysupplied them with meat and drink, they were now to obtain a place ofworship from it. They worked with a will, and in a short time theirchurch went up like the temple of old, without the aid of alien labor.
Vesper, on the day after the picnic, had announced his intention ofvisiting this church, and Agapit, in unconcealed disapproval and slightvexation, stood watching him clean his wheel, preparatory to setting outon the road down the Bay.
He would be sure to overtake Rose, who had shortly before left the innwith Narcisse. She had had a terrible scene with the child relative tothe approaching departure of the American, and Agapit himself hadadvised her to take him to her stepmother. He wished now that he had notdone so, he wished that he could prevent Vesper from going afterher,--he almost wished that this quiet, imperturbable young man hadnever come to the Bay.
"And yet, why should I do that?" he reflected, penitently. "Does notgood come when one works from honest motives, though bad only is atfirst apparent? Though we suffer now, we may yet be happy," and, castinga long, reluctant look at the taciturn young American, he rose from hiscomfortable seat and went up-stairs. He was tired, out of sorts, andirresistibly sleepy, having been up all night examining the olddocuments left by his uncle, the priest, in the hope of findingsomething relating to the Fiery Frenchman, for he was now as anxious toconclude Vesper's mission to the Bay as he had formerly been to prolongit.
With a quiet step he crept past the darkened room where Mrs. Nimmo,after worrying her son by her insistence on doing her own packing, hadbeen obliged to retire, in a high state of irritation, and with a ragingheadache.
He hoped that the poor lady would be able to travel by the morrow; herson would be, there was no doubt of that. How well and strong he seemednow, how immeasurably he had gained in physical well-being since comingto the Bay.
"For that we should be thankful," said Agapit, in sincere admiration andregard, as he stood by his window and watched Vesper spinning down theroad.
"He goes so cool, so careless, like those soldiers who went to battlewith a rose between their lips, and I do not dare to warn, to question,lest I bring on what I would keep back. But do thou, my cousin Rose, notlinger on the way. It would be better for thee to bite a piece from thylittle tongue than to have words with this handsome stranger whom I fearthou lovest. Now to work again, and then, if there is time, half anhour's sleep before supper, for my eyelids flag strangely."
Agapit sat down before the table bestrewn with papers, while Vesper wentswiftly over the road until he reached the picnic ground of the daybefore, now restored to its former quietness as a grazing place forcows. Of all the cheerful show there was left only the bigmerry-go-round, that was being packed in an enormous wagon drawn by fourpairs of oxen.
"What are you going to do with it?" asked Vesper, springing off hiswheel, and addressing the Acadiens at work.
"We take it to a parish farther down the Bay, where there is to be yetanother picnic," said one of them.
"How much did they make yesterday?" pursued Vesper.
"Six hundred dollars, and only four hundred the day before, and threethe first, for you remember those days were partly rainy."
"And some people say that you Acadiens are poor."
The man grinned. "There were many people here, many things. This woodendarling," and he pointed to the dismembered merry-go-round, "earned onedollar and twenty cents every five minutes. We need much for ourchurches," and he jerked his thumb towards the red cathedral. "Theplaster falls, it must be restored. Do you go far, sir?"
Vesper mentioned his destination.
All the Acadiens on the Bay knew him and took a friendly interest inhis movements, and the man advised him to take in the Cave of the Bears,that was also a show-place for strangers. "It is three miles farther,where there is a bite in the shore, and the bluff is high. You will knowit by two yellow houses, like twins. Descend there, and you will see atroop of ugly bears quite still about a cave. The Indians of this coastsay that their great man, Glooscap, in days before the French came, oncesat in the cave to rest. Some hungry bears came to eat him, but hestretched out a pine-tree that he carried and they were turned tostone."
Vesper thanked him, and went on. When he reached the sudden andpicturesque cove in the Bay, his attention was caught, not so much byits beauty, as by the presence of the inn pony, who neighed a joyfulwelcome, and impatiently jerked back and forth the road-cart to which hewas attached.
Vesper glanced sharply at the yellow houses. Perhaps Rose was making acall in one of them. Then he stroked the pony, who playfully nipped hiscoat sleeve, and, after propping his wheel against a stump, ran nimblydown a grassy road, where a goat was soberly feeding among lobster-trapsand drawn-up boats.
He crossed the strip of sand in the semicircular inlet, and there beforehim were the bears,--ugly brown rocks with coats of slippery seaweed,their grinning heads turned towards the mouth of a black cavern in thelower part of the bluff, their staring eye-sockets fixed on the daintywoman's figure inside, as if they would fain devour her.
Rose sat with her face to the sea, her head against the damp rockwall,--her whole attitude one of abandonment and mournful despair.
Vesper began to hurry towards her, but, catching sight of Narcisse, hestopped.
The child, with a face convulsed and tear-stained, was angrily seizingstones from the beach to fling them against the most lifelike bear ofall,--a grotesque, hideous creature, that appeared to be shouldering hisway from the water in order to plunge into the cave.
"Dost thou mock me?" exclaimed Narcisse, furiously. "I will strike theeyet again, thou hateful thing. Thou shalt not come on shore to eat mymother and the Englishman," and he dashed a yet larger stone against it.
"Narcisse," said Vesper.
The child turned quickly. Then his trouble was forgotten, and stumblingand slipping over the seaweed, but at last attaining his goal, he flunghis small unhappy self against Vesper's breast. "I love you, I loveyou,--_gros comme la grange a Pinot_" (as much as Pinot's barn),--"yetmy mother carried me away. Take me with you, Mr. Englishman. Narcisse isvery sick without you."
In maternal alarm Rose sprang up at her child's first shriek. Then shesank back, pale and confused, for Vesper's eye was upon her, althoughapparently he was engaged only in fondling the little curly head, and inallowing the child to stroke his face and dive into his pockets, to pullout his watch, and indulge in the fond and foolish familiaritiespermitted to a child by a loving father.
"Go to her, Narcisse," said Vesper, presently, and the small boy raninto the cave. "My mother, my mother!" he cried, in an ecstasy; and hewagged his curly head as if he would shake it from his body. "TheEnglishman returns to you and to me,--he will stay away only a shorttime. Come, get up, get up. Let us go back to the inn. I am to go nomore to my grandmother. Is it not so?" and he anxiously gazed at Vesper,who w
as slowly approaching.
Vesper did not speak, neither did Rose. What was the matter with thesegrown people that they stared so stupidly at each other?
"Have you a headache, Mr. Englishman?" he asked, with abrupt childishanxiety, as he noticed a sudden and unusual wave of color sweeping overhis friend's face. "And you, my mother,--why do you hang your head? Giveonly the Englishman your hand and he will lift you from the rock. He isstrong, very strong,--he carries me over the rough places."
"Will you give me your hand, Rose?"
She started back, with a heart-broken gesture.
"But you are imbecile, my darling mother!" cried Narcisse, throwinghimself on her in terror. "The Englishman will become angry,--he willleave us. Give him your hand, and let us go from this place," and,resolutely seizing her fluttering fingers in his own soft ones, hedirected them to Vesper's strong, true clasp.
"Go stone the bears again, Narcisse," said the young man, with a strangequiver in his voice. "I will talk to your mother about going back to theinn. See, she is not well;" for Rose had bowed her weary head on herarm.
"Yes, talk to her," said the child, "that is good, and, above all, donot let her hand go. She runs from me sometimes, the little naughtymother," and, with affected roguishness that, however, concealed acertain anxiety, he put his head on one side, and stared affectionatelyat her as he left the cave.
He had gone some distance, and Vesper had already whispered a few wordsin Rose's ear, when he returned and stared again at them. "Will you tellme only one little story, Mr. Englishman?"
"About what, you small bother?"
"About bears, big brown bears, not gentle trees."
"There was once a sick bear," said the young man, "and he went all aboutthe world, but could not get well until he found a quiet spot, where agentle lady cured him."
"And then--"
"The lady had a cub," said Vesper, suddenly catching him in his arms andtaking him out to the strip of sand, "a fascinating cub that the bear--Imean the man--adored."
Narcisse laughed gleefully, snatched Vesper's cap and set off with it,fell into a pool of water and was rescued, and set to the task of takingoff his shoes and stockings and drying them in the sun, while Vesperwent back to Rose, who still sat like a person in acute distress of bodyand mind.
"I was sudden,--I startled you," he murmured.
She made a dissenting gesture, but did not speak.
"Will you look at me, Rose?" he said, softly; "just once."
"But I am afraid," fluttered from her pale lips. "When I gaze into youreyes it is hard--"
He stood over her in such quiet, breathless sympathy that presently shelooked up, thinking he was gone.
His glance caught and held hers. She got up, allowed him to take herhands and press them to his lips, and to place on her head the hat thathad fallen to the ground.
"I will say nothing more now," he murmured, "you are shocked and upset.We had better go home."
"Come and be presented to Mrs. Nimmo," suddenly said a saucy, laughingvoice.
Rose started nervously. Her sister Perside had caught sight ofthem,--teasing, yet considerate Perside, since she had bestowed only oneglance on the lovers, and had then gone sauntering past the mouth of thecave, out to the wide array of black rocks beyond them. She carried ahooked stick over her shoulder, and a tin pail in her hand, andsometimes she looked back at a second girl, similarly equipped, who wasrunning down the grassy road after her.
Nothing could have made Rose more quickly recover herself. "It is notthe time of perigee,--you will find nothing," she called after Perside;then she added to Vesper, in a low, shy voice, "She seeks lobsters. Shedanced so much at the picnic that she was too tired to go home, and hadto stay here with cousins."
"Times and seasons do not matter for some things," returned Perside,gaily, over her shoulder; "one has the fun."
Narcisse stopped digging his bare toes in the sand and shrieked,delightedly, "Aunt Perside, aunt Perside, do you know the Englishmanreturns to my mother and me? He will never leave us, and I am not to goto my grandmother." Then, fearful that his assertions had been toostrong, he averted his gaze from the two approaching people, and fixedit on the blazing sun.
"Will you promise not to make a scene when I leave to-morrow?" saidVesper.
Narcisse blinked at him, his eyes full of spots and wheels and revolvinglights. He was silly with joy, and gurgled deep down in his littlethroat. "Let me kiss your hand, as you kissed my mother's. It is apretty sight."
"Will you be a good boy when I leave to-morrow," said Vesper again.
"But why should I cry if you return?" cried the child, excitedlyflinging a handful of sand at his boots. "Narcisse will never again bebad," and rolling over and over, and kicking his pink heels in glee, heforced Vesper and Rose to retire to a respectful distance.
They stood watching him for some time, and, as they watched, Rose'stortured face grew calm, and a spark of the divine passion animating herlover's face came into her deep blue eyes. She had no right to break thetender, sensitive little heart given so strangely to this stranger. Shewould forget Agapit and his warnings; she would forget the proud womenof her race, who would not wed a stranger, and one of another creed; shewould also forget the nervous, jealous mother who would keep her sonfrom all women.
"You have asked me for myself," she said, impulsively stretching out herhands to him, "for myself and my child. We are yours."
Vesper bent down, and pressed her cool fingers against his burningcheeks. She smiled at him, even laughed gleefully, and passed her handsover his head in a playful caress; then, with her former expression ofexaltation and virginal modesty and shyness, she ran up the grassy road,and paused at the top to look back at him, as he toiled up withNarcisse.
She was vivacious and merry now,--he had never seen her just so before.In an instant,--a breath,--with her surrender to him, she had seemed todrop her load of care, that usually made her youthful face so grave andsweet beyond her years. He would like to see her cheerful andlaughing--thoughtless even; and murmuring endearing epithets under hisbreath, he assisted her into the cart, placed the reins in her hands,tucked Narcisse in by her side, and, surreptitiously lifting a fold ofher dress to his face, murmured, "_Au revoir_, my sweet saint."
Then, stroking his mustache to conceal from the yellow houses his proudsmile of ownership, he watched the upright pose of the light head, andthe contorted appearance of the dark one that was twisted over a littleshoulder as long as the cart was in sight.
He forgot all about the church, and, going back to the beach, he lay fora long time sunning himself on the sand, and plunged in a deliciousreverie. Then, mounting his wheel, he returned to the inn.
Agapit was running excitedly to and fro on the veranda. "Come, makehaste," he cried, as he caught sight of him in the distance. "Extremelystrange things have happened--Let me assist you with that wheel,--amalediction on it, these bicycles go always where one does not expect.There is news of the Fiery Frenchman. I found something, also Father LaCroix."
"This is interesting," said Vesper, good-naturedly, as he folded hisarms, and lounged against one of the veranda posts.
"I was delving among my uncle's papers. I had precipitately come on thename of LeNoir,--Etex, the son of Raphael, who was a wealthy _bourgeois_of Calais, and emigrated to Grand Pre. He was dead when the expulsioncame, and of his two sons one, Gabriel LeNoir, escaped up the St. JohnRiver, and that Gabriel was my ancestor, and that of Rose; therefore,most astonishingly to me, we are related to this family whom you havesought," and Agapit wound up with a flourish of his hands and his heels.
"I am glad of this," said Vesper, in a deeply gratified voice.
"But more remains. I was shouting over my discovery, when Father LaCroix came. I ran, I descended,--the good man presented his complimentsto madame and you. Several of his people went to him this morning. Theyhad questioned the old ones. He wrote what they said, and here it is.See--the son of the murdered Etex was Samson. His mother landed in
Philadelphia. In griping poverty the boy grew up. He went to Boston. Hejoined the Acadiens who marched the five hundred miles through the woodsto Acadie. He arrived at the Baie Chaleur, where he married a Comeau. Hehad many children, but his eldest, Jean, is he in whom you will interestyourself, as in the direct line."
"And what of Jean?" asked Vesper, when Agapit stopped to catch hisbreath.
Agapit pointed to the Bay. "He lies over Digby Neck, in the Bay ofFundy, but his only child is on this Bay."
"A boy or a girl?"
"A devil," cried Agapit, in a burst of grief, "a little devil."
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