CHAPTER XVI.
FOR THE HONOR OF THEIR RACE.
"Love is the perfect sum Of all delight! I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write."
"Why is the descendant of the Fiery Frenchman a devil?" asked Vesper.
"Because she has no heart. They have taken from her her race, herreligion. Her mother, who had some Indian blood, was also wild. Shewould not sweep her kitchen floor. She went to sea with her husband, andwhen she was drowned with him, her sister, who is also gay, took thechild."
"What do you mean by gay?"
"I mean like hawks. They go here and there,--they love the woods. Theydo not keep neat houses, and yet they are full of strange ambitions.They change their names. They are not so much like the English as weare, yet they pretend to have no French blood. Sometimes I visit them,for the uncle of the child--Claude a Sucre--is worthy, but his wife Idetestate. She has no bones of purpose; she is like a flabby sunfish."
"Where do they live?"
"Up the Bay,--near Bleury."
"And do you think there is nothing I can do for this little renegade?"
"Nothing?" cried Agapit. "You can do everything. It is the opportunityof your life. You so wise, so generous, so understanding the Acadiens.You have in your power to make born again the whole family through thechild. They are superstitious. They will respect the claim of the dead.Come to the garden to talk, for there are strangers approaching."
Vesper shivered. He was not altogether happy over the discovery of thelost link connecting him with the far-back tragedy in which hisgreat-grandfather had been involved. However, he suppressed all signs ofemotion, and, following Agapit to the lawn, he walked to and fro,listening attentively to the explanations and information showered uponhim. When Rose came to the door to ring the supper-bell, both young menpaused. She thought they had been speaking of her, and blushed divinely.
Agapit, with an alarmed expression, turned to his companion, who smiledquietly, and was just about to address him, when a lad came running upto them.
"Agapit, come quickly,--old miser Lefroy is dying, and would make hiswill. He calls for thee."
"Return,--say that I will come," exclaimed Agapit, waving his hand; thenhe looked at Vesper. "One word only, why does Rose look so strangely?"
"Rose has promised to be my wife."
Agapit groaned, flung himself away a few steps, then came back. "Say nomore to her till you see me. How could you--and yet you do her honor. Icannot blame you," and with a farewell glance, in which there was acurious blending of despair and gratified pride, he ran after the boy.
Vesper went up-stairs to his mother, who announced herself no better,and begged only that she might not be disturbed. He accordinglydescended to the dining-room and took his place at the table.
Rose was quietly moving to and fro with a heightened color. She was gladthat Agapit was away,--it was more agreeable to her to have only onelord and master present; yet, sensitively alive to the idiosyncrasies ofthis new one, she feared that he was disapproving of her unusual numberof guests.
He, however, nobly suppressed his disapproval, and even talkedpleasantly of recent political happenings in his own country with sometravelling agents who happened to be some of his own fellow citizens.
"Ah, it is a wonderful thing, this love," she said to herself, as shewent to the kitchen for a fresh supply of coffee; "it makes one moreanxious to please, and to think less of oneself. Mr. Nimmo wishes to aidme,--and yet, though he is so kind, he slightly wrinkles his beautifuleyebrows when I place dishes on the table. He does not like me to serve.He would have me sit by him; some day I shall do so;" and, overcome bythe confused bliss of the thought, she retired behind the pantry door,where the curious Celina found her with her face buried in her hands,and in quick, feminine intuition at once guessed her secret.
There were many dishes to wash after supper, and Vesper, who was keepingan eye on the kitchen, inwardly applauded Celina, who, instead ofrunning to the door as she usually did to exchange pleasantries withwaiting friends and admirers, accomplished her tasks with surprisingcelerity. In the brief space of three-quarters of an hour she was readyto go out, and after donning a fresh blouse and a clean apron, andcoquettishly tying a handkerchief on her head, she went to the lawn,where she would play croquet and gossip with her friends until the starscame out.
Vesper left the smokers on the veranda and the chattering women in theparlor, and sauntered through the quiet dining-room and kitchen. Rosewas nowhere in sight, but her pet kitten, that followed her from morningtill night, was mewing at the door of a small room used as a laundry.
Vesper cautiously looked in. The supple young back of his sweetheart wasbent over a wash-tub. "Rose," he exclaimed, "what are you doing?"
She turned a blushing face over her shoulder. "Only a little washing--avery little. The washerwoman forgot."
Vesper walked around the tub.
"It was such a pleasure," she stammered. "I did not know that you wouldwish to talk to me till perhaps later on."
Her slender hands gripped a white garment affectionately, and partlylifted it from the soap-suds. Vesper, peering in the tub, discoveredthat it was one of the white jerseys that he wore bicycling, and, gentlytaking it from her, he dropped it out of sight in the foam.
"But it is of wool,--it will shrink," she said, anxiously.
He laughed, dried her white arms on his handkerchief, and begged her tosit down on a bench beside him.
She shyly drew back and, pulling down her sleeves, seated herself on astool opposite.
"Rose," he said, seriously, "do you know how to flirt?"
Her beautiful lips parted, and she laughed in a gleeful, wholeheartedway that reminded him of Narcisse. "I think that it would be possible tolearn," she said, demurely.
Vesper did not offer to teach her. He fell into an intoxicated silence,and sat musing on this, the purest and sweetest passion of his life.What had she done--this simple Acadien woman--to fill his heart withsuch profound happiness? A light from the window behind her shone aroundher flaxen head, and reminded him of the luminous halos surrounding theheads of her favorite saints. Since the ecstatic dreams of boyhood hehad experienced nothing like this,--and yet this dream was moreextended, more spiritual and less earthly than those, for infiniteworlds of happiness now unfolded themselves to his vision, and endlesspossibilities and responsibilities stretched out before him. Thiswoman's life would be given fearlessly into his hands, and also the lifeof her child. He, Vesper Nimmo, almost a broken link in humanity'schain, would become once more a part in the glorious whole.
Rose, enraptured with this intellectual love-making, sat watching everyvarying emotion playing over her lover's face. How different he was fromCharlitte,--ah, poor Charlitte!--and she shuddered. He was so rough, socareless. He had been like a good-natured bear that wished a plaything.He had not loved her as gently, as tenderly as this man did.
"Rose," asked Vesper, suddenly, "what is the matter with Agapit?"
"I do not know," she said, and her face grew troubled. "Perhaps he isangry that I have told a story, for I said I would not marry."
"Why should he not wish you to marry?"
Again she said that she did not know.
"Will you marry me in six weeks?"
"I will marry when you wish," she replied, with dignity, "yet I beg youto think well of it. My little boy is in his bed, and when I no longersee him, I doubt. There are so few things that I know. If I go to yourdear country, that you love so much, you may drop your head inshame,--notwithstanding what you have said, I give you up if you wish."
"Womanlike, you must inject a drop of bitterness into the only full cupof happiness ever lifted to your lips. Let us suppose, however, that youare right. My people are certainly not as your people. Shall we partnow,--shall I go away to-morrow, and never see you agai
n?"
Rose stared blindly at him.
"Are you willing for me to go?" he asked, quietly.
His motive in suggesting the parting was the not unworthy one of a loverwho longs for an open expression of affection from one dear to him, yethe was shocked at the signs of Rose's suppressed passion andinarticulate terror. She did not start from her seat, she did not throwherself in his inviting arms, and beg him to stay with her. No; theterrified blue eyes were lowered meekly to the floor, and, in scarcelyaudible accents, she murmured, "What seems right to you must be done."
"Rose,--I shall never leave you."
"I feel that I have reached up to heaven, and plucked out a very brightstar," she stammered, with white lips, "and yet here it is," and tryingto conceal her agony, she opened her clenched and quivering hand, as ifto restore something to him.
He went down on his knees before her. "You are a princess among yourpeople, Rose. Keep the star,--it is but a poor ornament for you," andseizing her suffering hands, he clasped them to his breast. "Listen,till I tell you my reasons for not leaving the woman who has given me mylife and inspired me with hope for the future."
Rose listened, and grew pale at his eloquent words, and still moreeloquent pauses.
After some time, a gentle, melancholy smile came creeping to her face; asmile that seemed to reflect past suffering rather than present joy. "Itis like pain," she said, and she timidly laid a finger on his dark head,"this great joy. I have had so many terrors,--I have loved you so long,I find, and I thought you would die."
Vesper felt that his veins had been filled with some glowing elixir ofearthly and heavenly delight. How adorable she was,--how unique, withher modesty, her shyness, her restrained eagerness. Surely he had foundthe one peerless woman in the world.
"Talk to me more about yourself and your feelings," he entreated.
"I have longed to tell you," she murmured, "that you have taught me whatit is,--this love; and also that one does not make it, for it is life ordeath, and therefore can only come from the Lord. When you speak, yourwords are so agreeable that they are like rain on dusty ground. I feelthat you are quite admirable," and, interrupting herself, she bent overto gently kiss his cheek as he still knelt before her.
"Continue, Rose," he said, shutting his eyes in an ecstasy.
"I speak freely," she said, "because I feel that I can trust you withoutfear, and always, always love and serve you till you are quite, quiteold. I also understand you. Formerly I did not. You say that I am like aprincess. Ah, not so much as you. You are altogether like a prince. Youhad the air of being contented; I did not know your thoughts. Now I canlook into your beautiful white soul. You hide nothing from me. No, donot put your face down. You are a very, very good man. I do not thinkthat there can be any one so good."
Vesper looked up, and laid a finger across the sweet, praising mouth.
"Let us talk of your mother," said Rose. "Since I love you, I love hermore; but she does not like me equally."
"But she will, my ingenuous darling. I have talked to her twice. She isquite reconciled, but it will take time for her to act a mother's part.You will have patience?"
Rose wrinkled her delicate brows. "I put myself in her place,--ah, howhard for her! Let me fancy you my son. How could I give you up? And yetit would be wrong for her to take you from one who can make you morehappy; is it not so?"
Vesper sprang to his feet. "Yes, Rose; it is you and I against theworld,--one heart, one soul; it is wonderful, and a great mystery," andclasping his hands behind him, he walked to and fro along the narrowroom.
Rose, with a transfigured face, watched him, and hung on every wordfalling from his lips, as he spoke of his plans for the future, hisdisappointed hopes and broken aspirations of the past. It did not occurto either of them, so absorbed were they with each other, to glance atthe small window overlooking the dooryard, where an eager face came andwent at intervals.
Sometimes the face was angry; sometimes sorrowful. Sometimes a clenchedfist was raised between it and the glass as if at an imaginary enemy.The unfortunate watcher, in great perplexity of mind, was going throughevery gesture in the pantomime of distress.
The lovers, unmindful of him, continued their conversation, and thesuffering Agapit continued to suffer.
Vesper talked and walked on, occasionally stopping to listen to a remarkfrom Rose, or to bend over her in an adoring, respectful attitude whilehe bestowed a caress or received a shy and affectionate one from her.
"It is sinful,--I should interrupt," groaned Agapit, "yet it would becruel. They are in paradise. Ah, dear blessed Virgin,--mother ofsuffering hearts,--have pity on them, for they are both noble, bothgood;" and he dashed his hand across his eyes to hide the sight of thebeautiful head held as tenderly between the hands of the handsomestranger as if it were indeed a fragile, full-blown rose.
"They take leave," he muttered; "I will look no more,--it is asacrilege," and he rushed into the house by another door.
The croquet players called to him from the lawn. He could hear the clickof the balls and the merry voices as he passed, but he paid no heed tothem. Only in the dining-room did he stay his hasty steps. There, infront of the picture of Rose's husband, he paused with uplifted arm.
"Scoundrel!" he muttered, furiously; then striking his fist through theglass, he shattered the portrait, from the small twinkling eyes to itsgood-natured, sensuous mouth.
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