CHAPTER III.
TAKEN UNAWARES.
"Who can speak The mingled passions that surprised his heart?"
THOMSON.
Bidiane nothing loath, broke into a vivacious narrative. "Ah, that Mr.Nimmo, I just idolize him. How much he has done for me! Just figure toyourself what a spectacle I must have been when he first saw me. I wasignorant,--as ignorant as a little pig. I knew nothing. He asked me if Iwould go down the Bay to a convent. I said, quite violently, 'No, I willnot.' Then he went home to Boston, but he did not give me up. I soonreceived a message. Would I go to France with him and his mother, for ithad been decided that a voyage would be good for the little Narcisse?That dazzled me, and I said 'yes.' I left the Bay, but just fancy howutterly stupid, how frightfully from out of the woods I was. I will giveone instance: When my uncle put me on the steamer at Yarmouth it waslate, he had to hurry ashore. He did not show me the stateroom preparedfor me, and I, dazed owl, sat on the deck shivering and drawing mycloak about me. I thought I had paid for that one tiny piece of thesteamer and I must not move from it. Then a kind woman came and took mebelow."
"But you were young, you had never travelled, mademoiselle."
"Don't say mademoiselle, say Bidiane,--please do, I would love it."
"Very well, Bidiane,--dear little Bidiane."
The girl leaned forward, and was again about to embrace her hostess withfervent arms, but suddenly paused to exclaim, "I think I hear wheels!"
She ran to one of the open windows. "Who drives a black buggy,--no, awhite horse with a long tail?"
"Agapit LeNoir," said Rose, coming to stand beside her.
"Oh, how is he? I hate to see him. I used to be so rude, but I supposehe has forgiven me. Mrs. Nimmo says he is very good, still I do notthink Mr. Nimmo cares much for him."
Rose sighed. That was the one stain on the character of the otherwiseperfect Vesper. He had never forgiven Agapit for striking him.
"Why he looks quite smart," Bidiane rattled on. "Does he get on wellwith his law practice?"
"Very well; but he works hard--too hard. This horse is his onlyluxury."
"I detest white horses. Why didn't he get a dark one?"
"I think this one was cheaper."
"Is he poor?"
"Not now, but he is economical. He saves his money."
"Oh, he is a screw, a miser."
"No, not that,--he gives away a good deal. He has had a hard life, hasmy poor cousin, and now he understands the trials of others."
"Poverty is tiresome, but it is sometimes good for one," said Bidiane,wisely.
Rose's white teeth gleamed in sudden amusement. "Ah, the dear littleparrot, she has been well trained."
Bidiane leaned out the window. There was Agapit, peering eagerly forwardfrom the hood of his carriage, and staring up with some of the oldapprehensiveness with which he used to approach her.
"What a dreadful child I was," reflected Bidiane, with a blush of shame."He is yet afraid of me."
Agapit, with difficulty averting his eyes from her round, childish faceand its tangle of reddish hair, sprang from his seat and fastened hishorse to the post sunk in the grass at the edge of the lawn, while Rose,followed by Bidiane, went out to meet him.
"How do you do, Rose," he murmured, taking her hand in his own, whilehis eyes ran behind to the waiting Bidiane.
The girl, ladylike and modest, and full of contrition for her formermisdeeds, was yet possessed by a mischievous impulse to find out whetherher power over the burly, youthful, excitable Agapit extended to thisthinner, more serious-looking man, with the big black mustache and theshining eye-glasses.
"Ah, fanatic, Acadien imbecile," she said, coolly extending her fingers,"I am glad to see you again."
Though her tone was reassuring, Agapit still seemed to be overcome bysome emotion, and for a few seconds did not recover himself. Then hesmiled, looked relieved, and, taking a step nearer her, bowedprofoundly. "When did you arrive, mademoiselle?"
"But you knew I was here," she said, gaily, "I saw it in your face whenyou first appeared."
Agapit dropped his eyes nervously. "He is certainly terribly afraid ofme," reflected Bidiane again; then she listened to what he was saying.
"The Bay whispers and chatters, mademoiselle; the little waves that kissthe shores of Sleeping Water take her secrets from her and carry them upto the mouth of the Weymouth River--"
"You have a telephone, I suppose," said Bidiane, in an eminentlypractical tone of voice.
"Yes, I have," and he relapsed into silence.
"Here we are together, we three," said Bidiane, impulsively. "How I wishthat Mr. Nimmo could see us."
Rose lost some of her beautiful color. These continual references to herlover were very trying. "I will leave you two to amuse each other for afew minutes, while I go and ask Celina to make us some tea _al'anglaise_."
"I should not have said that," exclaimed Bidiane, gazing after her; "howeasy it is to talk too much. Each night, when I go to bed, I lie awakethinking of all the foolish things I have said during the day, and I conover sensible speeches that I might have uttered. I suppose you never dothat?"
"Why not, mademoiselle?"
"Oh, because you are older, and because you are so clever. Really, I amquite afraid of you," and she demurely glanced at him from under hercurly eyelashes.
"Once you were not afraid," he remarked, cautiously.
"No; but now you must be very learned."
"I always was fond of study."
"Mr. Nimmo says that some day you will be a judge, and then probably youwill write a book. Will you?"
"Some day, perhaps. At present, I only write short articles formagazines and newspapers."
"How charming! What are they about?"
"They are mostly Acadien and historical."
"Do you ever write stories--love stories?"
"Sometimes, mademoiselle."
"Delicious! May I read them?"
"I do not know," and he smiled. "You would probably be too much amused.You would think they were true."
"And are they not?"
"Oh, no, although some have a slight foundation of fact."
Bidiane stared curiously at him, opened her lips, closed them again, sether small white teeth firmly, as if bidding them stand guard over someaudacious thought, then at last burst out with it, for she was stillexcited and animated by her journey, and was bubbling over with delightat being released from the espionage of strangers to whom she could nottalk freely. "You have been in love, of course?"
Agapit modestly looked at his boots.
"You find me unconventional," cried Bidiane, in alarm. "Mrs. Nimmo saysI will never get over it. I do not know what I shall do,--but here, atleast, on the Bay, I thought it would not so much matter. Really, it wasa consolation in leaving Paris."
"Mademoiselle, it is not that," he said, hesitatingly. "I assure you,the question has been asked before, with not so much delicacy--But withwhom should I fall in love?"
"With any one. It must be a horrible sensation. I have never felt it,but I cry very often over tales of lovers. Possibly you are like Madamede Foret, you do not care to marry."
"Perhaps I am waiting until she does, mademoiselle."
"I suppose you could not tell me," she said, in the dainty, coaxingtones of a child, "what it is that separates your cousin from Mr.Nimmo?"
"No, mademoiselle, I regret to say that I cannot."
"Is it something she can ever get over?"
"Possibly."
"You don't want to be teased about it. I will talk of something else;people don't marry very often after they are thirty. That is thedividing line."
Agapit dragged at his mustache with restless fingers.
"You are laughing at me, you find me amusing," she said, with a sharplook at him. "I assure you I don't mind being laughed at. I hate dullpeople--oh
, I must ask you if you know that I am quite Acadien now?"
"Rose has told me something of it."
"Yes, I know. She says that you read my letters, and I think it isperfectly sweet in you. I know what you have done for me. I know, youneed not try to conceal it. It was you that urged Mr. Nimmo not to giveme up, it is to you that I am indebted for my glimpse of the world. Iassure you I am grateful. That is why I speak so freely to you. You area friend and also a relative. May we not call ourselves cousins?"
"Certainly, mademoiselle,--I am honored," said Agapit, in a stumblingvoice.
"You are not used to me yet. I overcome you, but wait a little, you willnot mind my peculiarities, and let me tell you that if there is anythingI can do for you, I shall be so glad. I could copy papers or writeletters. I am only a mouse and you are a lion, yet perhaps I could biteyour net a little."
Agapit straightened himself, and stepped out rather more boldly as theywent to and fro over the grass.
"I seem only like a prattling, silly girl to you," she said, humbly,"yet I have a little sense, and I can write a good hand--a good roundhand. I often used to assist Mr. Nimmo in copying passages from books."
Agapit felt like a hero. "Some day, mademoiselle, I may apply to you forassistance. In the meantime, I thank you."
They continued their slow walk to and fro. Sometimes they looked acrossthe river to the village, but mostly they looked at each other, andAgapit, with acute pleasure, basked in the light of Bidiane's admiringglances.
"You have always stayed here," she exclaimed; "you did not desert yourdear Bay as I did."
"But for a short time only. You remember that I was at Laval Universityin Quebec."
"Oh, yes, I forgot that. Madame de Foret wrote me. Do you know, Ithought that perhaps you would not come back. However, Mr. Nimmo was notsurprised that you did."
"There are a great many young men out in the world, mademoiselle. Ifound few people who were interested in me. This is my home, and is notone's home the best place to earn one's living?"
"Yes; and also you did not wish to go too far away from your cousin. Iknow your devotion, it is quite romantic. She adores you, I easily sawthat in her letters. Do you know, I imagined"--and she lowered hervoice, and glanced over her shoulder--"that Mr. Nimmo wrote to her,because he never seemed curious about my letters from her."
"That is Mr. Nimmo's way, mademoiselle."
"It is a pity that they do not write. It would be such a pleasure tothem both. I know that. They cannot deceive me."
"But she is not engaged to him."
"If you reject a man, you reject him," said Bidiane, with animation,"but you know there is a kind of lingering correspondence that decidesnothing. If the affair were all broken off, Mr. Nimmo would not keepNarcisse."
Agapit wrinkled his forehead. "True; yet I assure you they have had nocommunication except through you and the childish scrawls of Narcisse."
Bidiane was surprised. "Does he not send her things?"
"No, mademoiselle."
"But her furniture is French."
"There are French stores in the States, and Rose travels occasionally,you know."
"Hush,--she is coming back. Ah! the adorable woman."
Agapit threw his advancing cousin a glance of affectionate admiration,and went to assist her with the tea things.
Bidiane watched him putting the tray on the table, and going to meetCelina, who was bringing out a teapot and cups and saucers. "Next to Mr.Nimmo, he is the kindest man I ever saw," she murmured, curling herselfup in a rattan chair. "But we are not talking," she said, a few minuteslater.
Rose and Agapit both smiled indulgently at her. Neither of them talkedas much as in former days. They were quieter, more subdued.
"Let me think of some questions," said the girl. "Are you, Mr. LeNoir,as furious an Acadien as you used to be?"
Agapit fixed his big black eyes on her, and began to twist the ends ofhis long mustache. "Mademoiselle, since I have travelled a little, andmingled with other men, I do not talk so loudly and vehemently, but myheart is still the same. It is Acadie forever with me."
"Ah, that is right," she said, enthusiastically. "Not noisy talk, butservice for our countrymen."
"Will you not have a cup of tea, and also tell us how you became anAcadien?" said Agapit, who seemed to divine her secret thought.
"Thank you, thank you,--yes, I will do both," and Bidiane's round faceimmediately became transfigured,--the freckles almost disappeared. Onesaw only "the tiger dusk and gold" of her eyes, and her reddish crown ofhair. "I will tell you of that noblest of men, that angel, who sweptdown upon the Bay, and bore away a little owl in his pinions,--ortalons, is it?--to the marvellous city of Paris, just because he wishedto inspire the stupid owl with love for its country."
"But the great-grandfather of the eagle, or, rather, the angel, killedthe great-grandfather of the owl," said Agapit; "do not forget that,mademoiselle. Will you have a biscuit?"
"Thank you,--suppose he did, that does not alter the delightfulness ofhis conduct. Who takes account of naughty grandfathers in this prosaicage? No one but Mr. Nimmo. And do we not put away from us--that is,society people do--all those who are rough and have not good manners?Did Mr. Nimmo do this? No, he would train his little Acadien owl. Thefirst night we arrived in Paris he took me with Narcisse for a fifteenminutes' stroll along the Arcades of the Rue de Rivoli. I was overcome.We had just arrived, we had driven through lighted streets to amagnificent hotel. The bridges across the river gleamed with lights. Ithought I must be in heaven. You have read the descriptions of it?"
"Of Paris,--yes," said Agapit, dreamily.
"Every one was speaking French,--the language that I detested. I wasdumb. Here was a great country, a great people, and they were French. Ihad thought that all the world outside the Bay was English, even thoughI had been taught differently at school. But I did not believe myteachers. I told stories, I thought that they also did. But to return tothe Rue de Rivoli,--there were the shops, there were the merchants. Nowthat I have seen so much they do not seem great things to me, butthen--ah! then they were palaces, the merchants were kings and princesoffering their plate and jewels and gorgeous robes for sale.
"'Choose,' said Mr. Nimmo to Narcisse and to me, 'choose some souvenirto the value of three francs.' I stammered, I hesitated, I wishedeverything, I selected nothing. Little Narcisse laid his finger on asparkling napkin-ring. I could not decide. I was intoxicated, and Mr.Nimmo calmly conducted us home. I got nothing, because I could notcontrol myself. The next day, and for many days, Mr. Nimmo took us aboutthat wonderful city. It was all so ravishing, so spotless, so immense.We did not visit the ugly parts. I had neat and suitable clothes. I wasinstructed to be quiet, and not to talk loudly or cry out, and in time Ilearned,--though at first I very much annoyed Mrs. Nimmo. Never, never,did her son lose patience. Madame de Foret, it is charming to live in apeaceful, splendid home, where there are no loud voices, no unseemlynoises,--to have servants everywhere, even to push the chair behind youat the table."
"Yes, if one is born to it," said Rose, quietly.
"But one gets born to it, dear madame. In a short time, I assure you, Iput on airs. I straightened my back, I no longer joked with theservants. I said, quietly, 'Give me this. Give me that,'--and I dislikedto walk. I wished always to step in a carriage. Then Mr. Nimmo talked tome."
"What did he say?" asked Agapit, jealously and unexpectedly.
"My dear sir," said Bidiane, drawing herself up, and speaking in hergrandest manner, "I beg permission to withhold from you thatinformation. You, I see, do not worship my hero as wildly as I do. Iaddress my remarks to your cousin," and she turned her head towardsRose.
They both laughed, and she herself laughed merrily and excitedly. Thenshe hurried on: "I had a governess for a time, then afterwards I wassent every day to a boarding-school near by the hotel where we lived. Iwas taught many things about this glorious country of France, this landfrom which my forefathers had gone to Acadie. Soon I began
to be lessashamed of my nation. Later on I began to be proud. Very often I wouldbe sent for to go to the _salon_ (drawing-room). There would bestrangers,--gentlemen and ladies to whom Mrs. Nimmo would introduce me,and her son would say, 'This is a little girl from Acadie.' ImmediatelyI would be smiled on, and made much of, and the fine people would say,'Ah, the Acadiens were courageous,--they were a brave race,' and theywould address me in French, and I could only hang my head and listen toMr. Nimmo, who would remark, quietly, 'Bidiane has lived among theEnglish,--she is just learning her own language.'
"Ah, then I would study. I took my French grammar to bed, and one daycame the grand revelation. I of course had always attended school hereon the Bay, but you know, dear Madame de Foret, how little Acadienhistory is taught us. Mr. Nimmo had given me a history of our own peopleto read. Some histories are dull, but this one I liked. It was late oneafternoon; I sat by my window and read, and I came to a story. You, Idaresay, know it," and she turned eagerly to Agapit.
"I daresay, mademoiselle, if I were to hear it--"
"It is of those three hundred Acadiens, who were taken from PrinceEdward Island by Captain Nichols. I read of what he said to thegovernment, 'My ship is leaking, I cannot get it to England.' Yet he wasforced to go, you know,--yet let me have the sad pleasure of telling youthat I read of their arrival to within a hundred leagues of the coast ofEngland. The ship had given out, it was going down, and the captain sentfor the priest on board,--at this point I ran to the fire, for daylightfaded. With eyes blinded by tears I finished the story,--the priestaddressed his people. He said that the captain had told him that allcould not be saved, that if the Acadiens would consent to remain quiet,he and his sailors would seize the boats, and have a chance for theirlives. 'You will be quiet, my dear people,' said the priest. 'You havesuffered much,--you will suffer more,' and he gave them absolution. Ishrieked with pain when I read that they were quiet, very quiet,--thatone Acadien, who ventured in a boat, was rebuked by his wife so that hestepped contentedly back to her side. Then the captain and sailorsembarked, they set out for the shore, and finally reached it; and theAcadiens remained calmly on board. They went calmly to the bottom of thesea, and I flung the book far from me, and rushed down-stairs,--I mustsee Mr. Nimmo. He was in the _salon_ with a gentleman who was to dinewith him, but I saw only my friend. I precipitated myself on a chairbeside him. 'Ah, tell me, tell me!' I entreated, 'is it all true? Werethey martyrs,--these countrymen of mine? Were they patient andafflicted? Is it their children that I have despised,--their religionthat I have mocked?'
"'Yes, yes,' he said, gently, 'but you did not understand.'
"'I understand,' I cried, 'and I hate the English. I will no longer be aProtestant. They murdered my forefathers and mothers.'
"He did not reason with me then,--he sent me to bed, and for six days Iwent every morning to mass in the Madeleine. Then I grew tired, becauseI had not been brought up to it, and it seemed strange to me. That wasthe time Mr. Nimmo explained many things to me. I learned that, thoughone must hate evil, there is a duty of forgiveness--but I weary you,"and she sprang up from her chair. "I must also go home; my aunt willwonder where I am. I shall soon see you both again, I hope," and wavingher hand, she ran lightly towards the gate.
"An abrupt departure," said Agapit, as he watched her out of sight.
"She is nervous, and also homesick for the Nimmos," said Rose; "but whata dear child. Her letters have made her seem like a friend of years'standing. Perhaps we should have kept her from lingering on thosestories of the old time."
"Do not reproach yourself," said Agapit, as he took another piece ofcake, "we could not have kept her from it. She was just about tocry,--she is probably crying now," and there was a curious satisfactionin his voice.
"Are you not well to-day, Agapit?" asked Rose, anxiously.
"_Mon Dieu_, yes,--what makes you think otherwise?"
"You seem subdued, almost dull."
Agapit immediately endeavored to take on a more sprightly air. "It isthat child,--she is overcoming. I was not prepared for such life, suchanimation. She cannot write as she speaks."
"No; her letters were stiff."
"Without doubt, Mr. Nimmo has sent her here to be an amiable distractionfor you," said Agapit. "He is afraid that you are getting too holy, toofar beyond him. He sends this Parisian butterfly to amuse you. He hasplenty of money, he can indulge his whims."
His tone was bitter, and Rose forbore to answer him. He was so good,this cousin of hers, and yet his poverty and his long-continued struggleto obtain an education had somewhat soured him, and he had not quitefulfilled the promise of his earlier years. He was also a little jealousof Vesper.
If Vesper had been as generous towards him as he was towards otherpeople, Agapit would have kept up his old admiration for him. As it was,they both possessed indomitable pride along different lines, and allthrough these years not a line of friendly correspondence had passedbetween them,--they had kept severely apart.
But for this pride, Rose would have been allowed to share all that shehad with her adopted brother, and would not have been obliged to standaside and, with a heart wrung with compassion, see him suffer for thelack of things that she might easily have provided.
However, he was getting on better now. He had a large number of clients,and was in a fair way to make a good living for himself.
They talked a little more of Bidiane's arrival, that had made an unusualcommotion in their quiet lives, then Agapit, having lingered longer thanusual, hurried back to his office and his home, in the town ofWeymouth, that was some miles distant from Sleeping Water.
A few hours later, Bidiane laid her tired, agitated head on her pillow,after putting up a very fervent and Protestant petition that somethingmight enable her to look into the heart of her Catholic friend, Rose aCharlitte, and discover what the mysterious obstacle was that preventedher from enjoying a happy union with Mr. Nimmo.
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