IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 112.8 1132 iw IIIIM 12.0 1-4 IIIIII.6 VQ He was unready with his apology, how- ever, and tramped on without again look- ing behind. Madame La Tour glanced at her ship, which would have to wait for wind and tide to reach the usual mooring. " Did you tell me you had news ? " she was reminded to ask him. "Madame, I have some news, but noth- ing serious." "If it be nothing serious, I will have a change of garments and my supper before I hear it. We have had a hard voyage." " Did my lord send any new orders? " " None, save to keep this poor girl about the fort ; and that is easily obeyed, since we can scarce do otherwise with her." " I meant to ask in the first breath how he fared in the outset of his expedition." " With a lowering sky overhead, and wet red clay underfoot. But I thanked Heaven, AN ACADIAN FORTRESS. 19 while wo were tossing with a broken mast, that lie was at least on firm land and mov- ing to his expectations." They entered the gateway, Madame La Tour's cheeks tingling richly from the effort of climbing. She saluted her garrison, and her garrison saluted her, each with a courte- ous pride in the other, born of the joint victory they had won over D'Aulnay de Charnisay when he attacked the fort. Not a man broke rank until she entered her hall. There was a tidiness about the in- cisure peculiar to 2)laces inhabited by women. It added grace even to military appointments. "You miss the swan, madame," noted Klussman. " Le Rossignol is out again." " When did she ctq ? " " The night after my lord and you sailed northward. She goes each time in the night, madame." " And she is still away ? " "Yes, madame." " And this is all you know of her? " ill! 20 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. " Yes, madame. She went, and has not yet come back." "But she always comes back safely. Though I fear," said Madame La Tour on the threshold, "the poor maid will some time fall into harm." He opened the door, and stood aside, say- ing under his breath, " I would call a crea- ture like that a witch instead of a maid." *' I will send for you, Klussman, when I have refreshed myself." " Yes, madame." The other women filed past him, and en- tered behind his ladv. The Swiss soldier folded his arms, staring hard at that crouching vagrant brought from Beausejour. She had a covering over her face, and she held it close, crowding on the heels in front of her as if she dared not meet his eye. ii k II. LE ROSSIGNOL. A GIRLISH woman was waiting for Marie within the hall, and the two exchanged kisses on the cheek with sedate and tender courtesy. " \Yelcome home, madame." " Home is more welcome to me because I find you in it, Antonia. Has anything un- usual happened in the fortress while I ha*^e been setting monsieur on his way? " " This morning, about dawn, I heard a great tramping of soldiers in the hall. One of the women told me prisoners had been brought in." "Yes. The Swiss said he had news. And liow has the Lady Dorinda fared ? " "Well, indeed. She has described to me three times the gorgeous pageant of her marriage." ^ 22 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. They had reached the fireplace, and Marie laughed as she warmed her hands before a pile of melting logs. " Give our sea - tossed bundle and its mother a warm seat, Zdlie," she said to her woman. The luiknown girl was placed near the hearth corner, and constrained to take upon her knees an object which she held indif- ferently. Antonia's eyes rested on her, de- tecting her half-concealed face, with silent disapproval. " We found a child on this expedition." *' It hath a stiffened look, like a papoose," observed Antonia. '* Is it well in health ? " " No ; poor baby. Attend to the child," said Marie sternly to the mother; and she added, " Zelie must go directly with me to my chests before she waits on me, and bring down garments for it to this hearth." " Let me this time be your maid," said Antonia. "You may come with me and be my resolution, Antonia ; for I have to set about LE ROSSIGNOL. 28 j> 9» bring ' said ^ the unlocking of boxes which hold some sacred clothes." " I never saw you lack courage, madame, since I have known you." *' Therein have I deceived you then," said Marie, throwing her cloak on Zelie's arm, " for I am a most cowardly creature in my affections, Madame Bronck." They moved toward the stairs. Antonia was as perfect as a slim and blue-eyed stalk of flax. She wore the laced bodice and small cap of New Holland. Her exactly spoken French denoted all the neat appoint- ments of her life. This Dutch gentle- woman had seen much of the world ; having traveled from Fort Orange to New Amster- dam, from New Amsterdam to Boston, and from Boston with Madame La Tour to Fort St. John in Acadia. The three figures as- cended in a line the narrow stairway which made a diagonal band from lower to upper corner of the remote hall end. Zdlie walked last, carrying her lady's cloak. At the top a little light fell on them through a loop- hole. 24 rilK LADY OF FOUT ST. JOHN. ** Was Mynheer La Tour in good heart for his march ? " inquired Antonia, turning from the waifs brought back to the expedi- tion itself. " Stout-hearted enough ; but the man to whom he goes is scarce to be counted on. We Protestant French are all held alien by Catholics of our blood. Edelwald will move Denys to take arms with us, if any one can. My lord depends much upon Edelwald. This instant," said Marie with a laugh, "I find the worst of all my dis- comforts these disordered garments." The stranger left by the fire gazed around the dim place, which was lighted only by high windows in front. The mighty hearth, inclosed by settles, was like a roseate side- chamber to the hall. Outside of this the stone-paved floor spread away unevenly. She turned her eyes from the arms of La Tour over the mantel to trace seamed and footworn flags, and noticed in the distant corner, at the bottom of the stairs, that they gave way to a trapdoor of timbers. This Li: JiOSSIGXOL. 26 was fastened down with iron bars, and had a luig(! ling for its handle. Her eyes rested on it in fear, betwixt the separated settles. But it was easily lost sight of in the fire's warmth. She had been so chilled by salt air and spray as to crowd close to the flame and court scorching. Her white face kin- dled with heat. She threw back her mufflers, and the comfort of the child occurring to her, she looked at its small face through a tunnel of clothing. Its exceeding stillness awoke but one wish, which she dared not let escape in words. These stone walls readily echoed any sound. So scantily furnished was the great hall that it could not refrain fi'oni echoing. There were some chairs and tables not of colonial pattern, and a buffet holding silver tankards and china ; but these seemed lost in space. Opposite the fireplace hung two portraits, — one of Charles La Tour's fa- ther, the other of a former maid of honor at the English court. The ceiling of wooden panels had been brought from La Tour's . ! '! ?! H W 26 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. castlo at Cupt) Sabh; ; it answered tlio flicker of the firo with lines of faded gilding. The girl dropped her wrappings on the bench, and began to nnroU the baby, as if curions about its state. "I believe it Is dead ! " she whispered. But the clank of a long iron latch which fastened the outer door was enough to de- flect her interest from the matter. She cast her cloak over the baby, and held it loosely on her knees, with its head to the fire. When the door shut with a crash, and some small object scurried areasts. A brush of red hair stood up in thousands of tendrils, exagger- ating by its nimbus the size of her upper person. Never had dwarf a sweeter voice. If she had been compressed in order to produce melody, her tones were compen- sation enough. She made lilting sounds while dangling her feet to the blaze, as if she thought in music. Le Rossignol was so positive a force that she seldom found herself overborne by the presence of large human beings. The only man in the fortress who saw her without superstition was Klussman. He inclined to complain of her antics, but not to find magic LE ROSSIGNOL. 29 ill her flights and returns. At that period deformity was the symbol of witchcraft. Blame fell upon this dwarf when toothache or rheumatic pains invaded the barracks, especially if the sufferer had spoken against her unseen excursions with her swan. Pro- tected from childhood by the family of La Tour, she had grown an autocrat, and bent to nobody except her lady. "Where is my clavier?" exclaimed Le Rossignol. "I heard a tune in the woods which I must get out of my clavier, — a green tune, the color of quickening lichens ; a dropping tune with sap in it ; a tune like the wind across inland lakes." She ran along the settle, and thrust her head around its high back. Zelie, with white garments upon one arm, was setting solidly forth down the uncovered stairs, when the dwarf arrested her by a cry. " Go back, heavy-foot, — go back and fetch me my clavier." " Mademoiselle the nightingale has sud- denly returned," muttered Zelie, ill pleased. 30 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. "Am I not always here when my lady comes home? I demand the box wherein my instrument is kei)t." " What doth your instrument concern me? Madame has sent me to dress the baby." " Will you bring my clavier? " The dwarf's scream was like the weird high note of a wind-harp. It had its effect on Zelie. She turned back, though mutter- ing against the overruling of her lady's com- mands by a creature like a bat, who could probably send other powers than a decent maid to bring claviers. " And where shall I find it ? '* she in- quired aloud. " Here have I been in the fortress scarce half an hour, after all but shipwreck, and I must search out the be- longings of people who do naught but idle." " Find it where you will. No one hath the key but myself. The box may stand in Madame Marie's apartment, or it may be in my own chamber. Such matters are * '^ LE ROSSIGNOL. 81 blown out of my head by the wind along the coast. Make haste to fetch it so I can play when Madame Marie appears." Le Rossignol drew herself up the back of the settle, and perched at ease on the angle farthest from the fire. She beat her heels lightly against her throne, and hummed, with her face turned from the listless girl, who watched all her antics. Zelie brought the instrument case, un- locked it, and handed up a crook-necked mandolin and its small ivory plectrum to her tyrant. At once the hall was full of tinkling melody. The dwarf's threadlike fingers ran along the neck of the mandolin, and as she made the ivory disk quiver among its strings her head swayed in rap- turous singing. Zelie forgot the baby. The garments intended for its use were spread upon the settle near the fire. She folded her arms, and wagged her head with Le Rossignol' s. But wliile the dwarf kept an eye on the stairway, watching like a lover for the ap- H 32 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. 1)1 pearance of Madame La Tour, the outer door again clanked, and Klussman stepped into the hall. Ilis big presence had instant effect on Le Kossignol. Her music tinkled louder and faster. The playing sprite, sit- ting half on air, gamboled and made droll faces to catch his eye. Her vanity and self- satisfaction, her pliant gesture and skillful wild music, made her appear some soulless little being from the woods who mocked at man's tense sternness. Klussman took little notice of any one in the hall, but waited by the closed door so relentless a sentinel that Zelie was reminded of her duty. She made haste to bring per- fumed water in a basin, and turned the linen on the settle. She then took the child from its mother's limp hands, and exclaimed and muttered under her breath a:^ she turned it on her knees. " What hast thoa done to it since my lady left thee ? " inquired Zelie sharply. But she got no answer from the girl. Unrewarded for her minstrelsy by a LE ROSSIGNOL. 88 single look from the Swiss, Le Rossignol quit playing, and made a fist of the curved instrument to shake at him, and let herself down the back of the settle. She sat on the mandolin box in shadow, vaguely sulking, until Madame La Tour, fresh from her swift attiring, stood at the top of the stair- way. That instant the half-hid mandolin burst into quavering melodies. *' Thou art back again. Nightingale ? " called the lady, descending. " Yes, Madame Marie." "Madame! " exclaimed Klussman, and as his voice escaped repression it rang through the hall. He advanced, but his lady lifted her finger to hold him back. "• Presently, Klussman. The first matter in hand is to rebuke this runaway." Marie's firm and polished chin, the con- tour of her glov/ing mouth, and the kindling beauty of her eyes were forever fresh de- lights to Le Rossignol. The dwarf watched the shapely and majestic woman moving down the hall. fn^ 84 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. i *' Madame," besought Zolie, lookinjj anx- iously around the end of the settle. But she also was obliged to wait. Marie ex- tended a hand to the claws of Lc llossignol, who touched it with her beak. " Thou hast very greatly displeased me." "Y«s, iVIadame Marie," said the culprit, with re ;iL»;T Mon. " How many times have you set all our people lidlv^'ng ;/;.out these witch flights on the swan, and sud;leii returns after dark ? " " I forget, Madame Marie." *' In all seriousness thou shalt be well punished for this last," said the lady se- verely. " I was punished before the offense. Your absence punished me, Madame Marie." "A bit of adroit flattery will not turn aside discipline. The smallest vassal in the fort shall know that. A day in the turret, with a loaf of bread and a jug of water, may put thee in better liking to stay at home." " Yes, Madame Marie," assented the dwarf, with smiles. ii LE JIOSSIGNOL. 35 " And I may yet find it in my heart to have that swan's neck wrung." " Shubenacadie's neck ! Oh, Madame Marie, wring mine ! It would be the death of me if Shubenacadie died. Consider how lonff I have had him. And his looks, my lady ! He is such a pretty bird." " We must mend that dangerous beauty of his. If these flights stop not, I will have his wings clipped." " His satin wings, — his glistening, pol- ished wings," mourned Le Ilossignol, "tipped with angel-finger feathers! Oh, Madame Marie, my heart's blood would run out of his quills ! " " It is a serious breach in the discipline of this fortress for even you to disobey me constantly," said the lady, again severely, though she knew her lecture was wasted on the human brownie. Le Ilossignol poked and worried the mandolin with antenna? - like fingers, and made up a contrite face. The dimness of the hall had not covered : t 36 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. I n Klussman's large pallor. The emotions of the Swiss passed over the outside of his countenance, in bulk like himself. His lady often compared him to a noble young bullock or other well-conditioned animal. There was in Klussman much wholesome- ness and excuse for existence. " Now, Klussman," said Marie, meeting her lieutenant with the intentness of one used to sudden military emergencies. He trod straight to the fireplace, and pointed at the strange girl, who hid her face. " Madame, I have come in to speak of a thing you ought to know. Has that woman told you her name ? " " No, she hath not. She hath kept a close tongue ever since we found her at the outpost." "She ever had a close tongue, madame, but she works her will in silence. It hath been no good will to me, and it will be no good will to the Fort of St. John." " Who is she, Klussman ? " *' I know not what name she bears now, ^\ B B LE ItOSSIGNOL. 37 but two years since she bore the name of Marguerite Klussman." " Surely she is not your sister ? " "No, madame. She is only my wife." He lifted his lip, and his blue eyes stared at the muffled culprit. " We knew not you had a wife when you entered our service, Klussman." *'Nor had I, madame. D'Aulnay de Charnisay had already taken her." " Then this woman does come from D'Aulnay de Charnisay ? " " Yes, madame ! And if you would have my advice, I say put her out of the gate this instant, and let her find shelter with our Indians above the falls." "Madame," exclaimed Zelie, lifting the half-nude infant, and thrusting it before her mistress with importunity which could wait no longer, "of your kindness look at this little creature. With all my chafing and sprinkling I cannot find any life in it. That girl hath let it die on her knees, and hath not made it known ! " i % ■M''^ 1 i< iii 38 Tilt: LADY OF FOliT ST. JOHN. Kluss man's glance rested on the body with that abashed hatred which a man con- demns in himself when its object is helpless. " It is D'Aulnay's child," he muttered, as if stating abundant reason for its taking off. " I have brought an agent from D'Aul- nay and D'Aulnay's child into our for- tress," said Madame La Tour, speaking toward Marguerite's silent cover, under which the girl made no sign of being more than a hidden animal. Her stern face traveled from mother back to tiny body. There is nothing more touching than the emaciation of a baby. Its sunken temples and evident cheekbones, the line of its jaw, the piteous parted lips and thin neck were all reflected in Marie's eyes. Her entire figure softened, and passionate motherhood filled her. She took the still pliant shape from Zdlie, held it in her hands, and finally pressed it against her bosom. No sign of mourning came from the woman called its mother. ..* LE ROSSIGNOL. 89 ** This baby is no enemy of ours," trem- bled Madame La Tour. " I will not have it even reproached with being the child of our enemy. It is my little dead lad come again to my bosom. How soft are his dear limbs! And this child died for lack of loving while I went with empty arms ! Have vou suffered, dear ? It is all done now. Mother will give you kisses, — kisses. Oh, baby, — baby ! " Klussman turned away, and Zclie whim- pered. But Le Rossignol thrust her head around the settle to see what manner of creature it was over which Madame Marie sobbed aloud. ikB tl I T i li III. FATIIEU ISAAC JOGUES. ^*^ The child abandoned by La Tour's enemy had been carried to the upper floor, and the woman sent with a soldier's wife to the barracks ; yet Madame La Tour continued to walk the stone flags, feeling that small skeleton on her bosom, and the pressure of death on the air. Her Swiss lieutenant opened the door and uttered a call. Presently, with a clat- ter of hoofs on the pavement, and a mighty rasping of the half-tree which they dragged, in burst eight Sable Island ponies, shaggy fellows, smaller than mastiffs, yet ^vith large heads. The settles were hastily cleared away for them, and they swept their load to the hearth. As soon as their chain was unhooked, these fairy horses shot .out again, and their joyful neighing could be heard as FATllKU ISAAC JOO'Ch'S. 41 tlioy scampered around tlie fort to their stable. Two men rolled the log into place, set a table and three chairs, and one re- turned to the cook-house while the other spread the cloth. Claude La Tour and his wife, the maid of honor, seemed to palpitate in their frames, with the flickering expressions of firelight. The silent company of these two j)eople was always enjoyed by Le Rossignol. She knew their disappointments, and ^iked to have them stir and sigh. In the day- time, the set courtier smile was sadder than a pine forest. But the chini ey's huge throat drew in the hall's heavy influences, and when the log was fired not a corner escaped its glow. The man who laid the cloth lighted caudles in a silver candela- brum and set it on the table, and carried a brand to waxlights which decorated the buffet. These cheerful preparations for her even- ing meal recalled Madame La Tour to the garrison's affairs. Her Swiss lieutenant '.i ii J ■ Hi if H " IM 1125 I.I 1.25 ■■• lilU m H JO Z2 20 21 1.4 1.6 " V} ^ /} VI 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 %'■ «. mm 3* •1 VII. A FRONTIER GRAVEYARD. \ i 1 1 i The next morning was gray and trans- parent : a hemisphere of mist filled with light ; a world of vapor palpitating with some indwelling spirit. That lonesome lap of country opposite Fort St. John could scarcely be defined. Scraps of its dawning spring color showed through the mobile winding and ascending veil. Trees rose out of the lowlands between the fort and the falls. Van Corlaer was in the gorge, watching that miracle worked every day in St. John River. The tide was racing inland. The steep rapids within .their throat of rock were clear of fog. Foam is the flower of water ; and white petal after white petal was swept under by the driving waves. As A FRONTIER GRAVEYARD. 83 the title rose the tiiniiilt of falls ceased. The channel filled. All rocks were drowned. For a brief time another ship could have passed up that natural lock, as La Tour's ship had passed on the cream-smooth current at flood tide the day before. Van Corlaer could not see its ragged sails around the breast of rock, but the hammer- ing of its repairers had been in his ears since dawn ; and through the subsiding wash of water he now heard men's voices. The Indians whose village he had joined were that morning breaking up camp to be- gin their spring pilgrimage down the coast along various fishing haunts ; for agricul- ture was a thing unknown to these savages. They were a seafaring people in canoes. At that time even invading Europeans had gained little mastery of the soil. Camp and fortress were on the same side of the river. Lounging braves watched indifferently some figures wading fog from the fort, perhaps bringing them a farewell word, perhaps for- bidding their departure. The Indian often I' I 1:1 il ■i 84 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. humored his invader's feudal airs, but he never owned the mastery of any white man. Squaws took down cone-shaped tents, while their half-naked babies sprawled in play upon the ashes of last winter's fires. Van Corlaer's men sauntered through the van- ishing town, trying at times to strike some spark of information from Dutch and Etchemin jargon. Near the river bank, between camp and fort, was an alluvial spot in which the shovel found no rock. A rough line of piled stones severed it from surrounding lands, and a few ti'ees stood there, promising summer shade, though, darkly moist along every budded twig, they now swayed in tuneless nakedness. Here the dead of Fort St. John were buried ; and those approaching figures entered a gap of the inclosure instead of going on to the camp. Three of La Tour's soldiers, with Father Jogues and his donne, had come to bury the outcast baby. One of the men was Zelie's husband, and she walked beside him. Marguerite lay sulk- A FRONTlEIt GRAVEYARD. 85 ing in the barracks. The lady had asked Father Jogues to consecrate with the rites of his church the burial of this little victim probably born into his faith. But he would have followed it in any case, with that in- stinct which drove him to baptize dying Indian children with rain-droi)s and at- tempt to pluck converts from the tortures of the stake. " Has this child been baptized ? " he in- quired of Zelie on the path down from the fort. She answered, shedding tears of resent- ment against Marguerite, and with fervor she could not restrain, — " I '11 warrant me it never had so much as a drop of water on its head, and but lit- tle to its body, before my lady took it." "But hath it not believing parents ? " " Our Swiss says," stated Zelie, with a respectful heretic's sparing of this priest, " that it is the child of D'Aulnay de Char- nisay." And she added no comment. The soldiers set their spades to last year's sod, li, ii w I I m 8G TJIE LADY OF FORT HT. JOHN. cut an oblong wound, and soon had the earth heaped out and a grave made. Father Jogues, perplexed, and heavy of heart for the sins of his enlightened as well as his savage children, concluded to conseerate the baby's bed. The Huguenot soldiers stood sullenly by while a Komish serviee went on. They or their fathers had been driven out of France by the bitterness of that very religion which Father Jogues expressed in sweetness. They had not the broad sym- pathy of their lady, who could excuse and even stooj) to mend a priest's cassoek ; and they made their pause as brief as possible. While the S2)at and clink of spades built up one child's hillock, Zelie was on her knees beside another some distance from it, scraping away dead leaves. Her lady had bid her look how this grave fared, and she noticed fondly that fern was beginning to curl above the buried lad's head. The heir of the La Tours lay with his feet toward the outcast of the Charnisays, but this was a chance arrangement. Soldiers and ser- ■ A FRONTIER GRAVEYARD. 87 vants of the house were scattered about the frontier burial ground, and Zelie noted to report to her lady that winter had i)artly effaced and driven below the sui-facc some recent graves. Instead of being marked by a cross, each earthen door had a narrow frame of river stones built around it. • Van Corlaer left the drowned falls and passed his own tents, and waited outside the knee-high inclosure for Father Jogues. The missionary, in his usual halo of prayer, dwelt upon the open breviary. Many a tree along the Mohawk valley yet bore the name of Jesu which he had carved in its bark, as well as rude crosses. Such marks helped him to turn the woods into one wide oratory. But unconverted savages, tearing with their teeth the hands lifted up in sup- plication for them, had scarcely taxed his heart as heretics and sinful believers taxed it now. The soldiers, having finished, took up their tools, and Van Corlaer joined Father Jogues as the party came out of the cemetery. m 1 || : S h '< tin 'ill vli 88 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. The day was brightening. Some sea- birds were spreading their white breasts and wing - linings like flashes of silver against shifting vapor. The party de- scended to a wrinkle in the land which woidd be dry at ebb-tide. Now it held a stream flowing inland upon grass — un- shriveled long grass bowed flat and sleeked to this daily service. It gave beholJ rs a delicious sensation to see the clean water rushing up so verdant a course. A log which would seem a misplaced and useless foot-bridge when the tide was out, was crossed by one after another; and as Van Corlaer fell back to step beside Father Jogues, he said : — " The Abenakis take to the woods and desert their Ashing, and these Etchemins leave the woods and take to the coast. You never know where to have your savage. Did you note that the village was mov- ing ? " " Yes, I saw that. Monsieur Corlaer ; and T nuist now take leave of the lady of the fort and join myself to them." A FRONTIER GRAVEYARD. 89 " If you do you will give deep offense to La Tour," said the Dutchman, pusliing back some strands of light hair which had fallen over his forehead, and turning his great near-sighted eyes on his friend. *' These Indians are called Protestant. They are in La Tour's grant. TIiou know- est that he and D'Aulnay do Charnisay have enough to quarrel about without draw- ing churchmen into their broil." Father Jogues trod on gently. He knew he could not travel with any benighted soul and not try to convert it. These poor Et- chemins appealed to his conscienc»^. ; but so did the gracious lady of the fort. " If I could mend the rents in her faith," he sighed, " as she hath mended the rents in my cassock ! " Two of the soldiers turned aside with their spades to a slope behind the fortress, where there was a stable for the ponies and horned cattle, and where last year's garden beds lay blackened under last year's refuse growth. Having planted the immortal seed, 11 I t i 90 77/ A- LADY OF FORT ST. JO/LW. their next duty was to prepare for the trivial resurrections of the summer. French- men love green messes in their soup. The garden might be trampled by besiegers, but there were other chances that it would yield something. Zclie's husband climbed the height to escort the priest and report to his lady, but he had his wife to chatter beside him. Father Jogues' donne walked behind Van Corlaer, and he alone overheard the Dutchman's talk. "This lady of Fort St. John, Father Jognes, so housed, and so gi'ound between the millstones of La Tour and D'Aulnay — she hath wrought up my mind until I could not forbear this journey. It is well known throuijh the colonies that lia Tour can no longer get help, and is outlawed by his king. This fortress will be sacked. La Tour would best stay at home to defend his own. But what can any other man do ? I am here to defend my own, and I will take it and defend it." Van Corlaer looked up at the walls, and >r A FRONTIER I! RAVE YARD. 91 his chest swelled with a large breath of re- gret. "God lie knoweth why so sweet a lady is set here to bear the brunts of a frontier fortress, where no man can aid her without espousing her husband's quarrel ! — while hundreds of evil women degrade the courts of Europe. Ihit I can only do mine errand and go. And you will best mend your own expedition at this time by a new start from Montreal, Father Jogues." The priest turned around on the ascent and looked toward the vanishing Indian cam}). He was examining as self-indulgence his strong and gentlemanly desire not to in- volve Madame La Tour in further troubles by proselyting her people. *' AVhatever way is pointed out to me, Monsieur Corlaer," he answered, " that way I must take. For the mending of an expe- dition rests not in the hands of the poor instrument that attempts it." Their soldier signaled for the gates to be opened, and they entered the fort. Marie I m ' i I' i 'A 92 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. I ■ was on her morning round of inspection. She had just given back to a guard the key of the powder magazine. Well, storehouse, fuel-house, barracks, were in military readi- ness. But refuse stuff had been thrown in spots which her people were now severely cleaning. She greeted her returning guests, and heard the report of Zelie's husband. A lace mantle was drawn over her head and fastened under the chin, throwing out from its blackness the warm brown beauty of her face. " So our Indians are leaving the falls al- ready?" she repeated, fixing Zelie's hus- band with a serious eye. "Yes, madame," witnessed Zelie. "I myself saw women packing tents." " Have they heard any rumor which scared them off early, — our good lazy Et- chemins, who hate fighting ? " "No, madame," Van Corlaer answered, being the only person who came directly from the camp, " I think not, though their language is not clear to me like our western A FRONTIER GRAVEYJ. 98 tongues. It is simply an early spring, call- ing them out." " They have always waited until Paques week heretofore," she remembered. But the wandering forth of an irresponsible vil- lage had littlo to do with the state of her fort. She was going upon the walls to look at the cannon, and asked her guests to go with her. The priest and his donn(j and Van Cor- laer ascended a ladder, and Madame La Tour followed. " I do not often climb like a sailor," she said, when Van Corlaer gave her his hand at the top. " There is a flight of steps from mine own chamber to the level of the walls. And here Madame Bronck and I have taken the air on winter days when we felt sure of its not blowing us away. But you need not look sad over our pleasures, monsieur. We have had many a sally out of this fort, and monsieur the priest will tell you there is great freedom on snow- shoes." . 1 n •4. 111 'I ' lift 94 Tni: lady of fort st. joiin. " Madame Bronck has allowed herself little freedom since I came to Fort St. John," observed Van Corlaer. They all walked the walls from bastion to bastion, and Marie examined the guns, and spoke witli her soldiers. On the way back Father Jogues and Lalande paused to watch the Etchcmins trail away, and to connnunc on what their duty directed them to do. Marie walked on with Van Corlaer toward the towered bastion, talking quickly, and un- gloving her right hand to help his imagina- tion with it. A bar of sunlight rested with a long slant through vapor on the fortress. Far blue distances were opened on the bay. The rippling full river had already begun to subside and sink line by line from its island. Van Corlaer gave no attention to the beautiful world, lie listened to Madame La Tour with a broadening humorous face and the invincible port of a man who knows nothing of defeat. The sentinel trod back and forth without disturbing this intent A FROyniCR aUAVKYAIilJ. 95 conference, but other feet came rusliin ii 104 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. "It was not so said." She looked fur- tively at Bronck's powerful rival, loath to reveal to him the sick old man's prophecies. " I have heard of the hearts of heroes being sealed in coffers and treasured in the cities from which they sprung," said Van Corlaer, taking his hat from the step and holding it to shield his eyes from mounting light. " But Jonas was no hero. And I have heard of papists venerating little pieces of saints' bones. Father Jogues might do so, and I could behold him without smiling. But a Protestant woman should have no superstition for relics." " What I cannot help dreading," con- fessed Antonia, moving her hands nervously in their wrapping, " is what may follow this loss." " Why, let the hand go ! What should follow its loss ? " " Some trouble might befall the people who are kindest to me." "Because Bronck's hand has been mis- laid?" inquired Van Corlaer with shrewd light in his eyes. I \h <: VAN COHLAEli. 105 "Yos, mynheer," hesitated Antonia. IIo burst into laughter and Antonia looked at him as if he had spoken against religion. She sighed. "It was my duty to open the box once every month." Van Corlaer threw his hat down again on the step above. " Are you cold, mynheer ? " inquired An- tonia considerately. *' No. I am fired like a man in mid- battle. Will nothing move you to show mo a little love, madame ? Why, look you, there were French women among captives ransomed from the Mohawks who shed tears on these hands of mine. Strangers and alien people have some movement of feeling, but you have none." "Mynheer," pleaded Antonia, goaded to inconsistent and trembling asperity, " you make my case very hard. I could not tell you why I dare not wed again, but since you know, why do you cruelly blame me ? A woman does not weep the night away i:i ii 106 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. without some raovenient of feeling. Yes, mynheer, you have taunted me, and I will tell you the worst. I have thought of you more than of any other person in the world, and felt such satisfaction in your presence that I could hardly forego it. Yet holding me thus bound to you, you are by no means satisfied," sobbed Antonia. Van Corlaer glowed over her a moment with some smiling compunction, and irre- sistibly took her in his arms. From the instant that Antonia found herself there unstartled, her point of view was changed. She looked at her limitations no longer alone, but through Van Corlaer's eyes, and saw them vanishing. The sentinel, glancing down from time to time with a furtive cast of his eye, saw Antonia nodding or shaking her flaxen head in complete unison with Van Corlaer's nods and negations, and caught the sweet monotone of her voice repeating over and over : — " Yes, mynheer. Yes, mynheer." IX. THE TURRET. While Antonia continued her conference on the stone steps leading to the wall, the dwarf was mounting a flight which led to the turret. Klussman walked ahead, carry- ing her instrument and her ration for the day. There was not a loopliole to throw glimmers upon the blackness. The ascent wound about as if carved through the heart of rock, and the tall Swiss stooped to its slope. Such a mountain of unseen terraces made Le Rossignol pant. She lifted her- self from step to step, growing dizzy with the turns and holding to the wall. " Wait for me," she called up the gloom, and shook her fist at the unseen soldier because he gave her no reply. Klussman stepped out on the turret floor and set down U I I 108 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOIIX. h W Is his load. Stretching himself from the cramp of the stairway, lie stood looking over bay and forest and coast. The hattlemented wall was quite as high as his shoulder. One small cannon, brought up with ciiormous labor, was here trained through an embra- sure to command the mouth of the river. Le Kcssignol emerged into the unroofed light and the sea air like a potentate, drag- ging a warm furred robe. She had fastened great hoops of gold in her ears, and they gave her peaked face a barbaric look. It was her policy to go in state to punishment. The little sovereign stalked with long steps and threw out her arm in command. " Monsieur the Swiss, stoop over and give me thy back until I mount the battle- ment." Klussman, full of his own bitter and con- fused thinking, looked blankly down at her heated countenance. " Give me thy back ! " sang the dwarf in the melodious scream which anger never made harsh in her. fi 'I ■f .J THE TURRET. IQQ " Faith, yes, and my entire carcass," mut- tered the Swiss. '' I care not what becomes of me now." " Madame Marie sent you to escort me to this turret. You have the honor because you are an officer. Now do your duty as lieutenant of this fortress, and make me a comfortable prisoner." Klussman set his hands upon his sides and smiled down upon his prisoner. " What is your will ? " " Twice have I told you to stoop and give me your back, that I may mount from the cannon to the battlements. Am I to be shut up here without an outlook? " " May I be hanged if I do that," ex- claimed Klussman. " Make a footstool of myself for a spoiled puppet like thee? " Le Rossignol ran towards him and kicked his boots with the heel of her moccasin. The Swiss, remonstrating and laudiino-. moved back before her. "Have some care — thou wilt break a deer-hoof on my stout leather. And why ^1. i-i-j if t ■ n i i w lii' I'M * i 110 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. mount the battlements? A fall from this turret edge would spread thee out like a raindrop. Though the fewer women there are in the world the better," added Kluss- man bitterly. " Presume not to call me a woman ! " •'Why, what art thou?" " I am the nightingale." " By thy red head thou art the wood- pecker. Here is my back, clatterbill. Why should I not crawl the ground to be walked over ? I have been worse used than that." He grinned fiercely as he bent down with his hands upon his knees. Le llos- signol mounted the cannon, and with a couple of light bounds, making him a perch midway, reached an embrasure and sat ar- ranging her robes. " Now you may hand me my clavier," she said, " and then you shall have my thanks and my pardon." The Swiss handed her the instrument. His contempt was ruder than he knew. Le Kossignol pulled her gull-skin cap well down THE TURRET. Ill upon her ears, for though the day was now bright overhead, a raw wind came across the bay. She leaned over and looked down into the fortress to call her swan. The cook was drawing water from the well, and that soft sad note lifted his eyes to the turret. Le Rossignol squinted at him, and the man went into the barracks and told his wise that he felt shooting pains in his limbs that instant. " Come hither, gentle Swiss," said the dwarf striking the plectrum into her man- dolin strings, " and I will reward thee for thy back and all thy courtly services." Klussman stepped to the wall and looked with her into the fort. " Take that sweet sight for my thanks," said Le Rossignol, pointing to Marguerite below. The miserable girl had come out of the barracks and was sitting in the sun be- side the oven. She rested her licad against it and met the sky light with half-shut eyes, lovely in silken hair and pallid flesh through all her suUenness and dejection. As Kluss- ;i f : )• If 112 TIIK LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. man saw her he uttered an oath under his breath, which the dwarf's hand on the man- dolin echoed with a bang. He turned his back on the sight and betook himself to the stairway, the dwarf's laughter following him. She felt high in the world and played with a good spirit. The sentinel below heard her, but he took care to keep a steady and level eye. When the swan rose past him, spreading its wings almost against his face, he prudently trod the wall without turning his head. " H<3, Shubenacadie," said the human morsel to her familiar as the wide wings composed themselves beside her. " We had scarce said good-morning when I must be haled before my lady for that box of the Ilollandaise." The swan was a huge white creature of his kind, with fiery eyes. There was satin texture delightful to the touch in the firm and glistening plumage of his swell- ing breast. Le Rossignol smoothed it. *' They have few trinkets in that bar- barous Fort Orange in the west. I detest it]'- THE ruiiRi-r. 113 that Ilollandaise more since slie carries about such a casket. Let us be cozy. Kiss me, Shubenacadie." The swan's attachment and obedience iv> her were struggling against some swan-like instinct which made him rear a lofty head and twist it riverward. " Kiss me, I say ! Shall I have to beat thee over the head with my clavier to teach thee manners ? " Shubenacadie darted his snake neck down- ward and touched bills with her. She patted his coral nostrils. " Not yet. Before you take to the water we must have some talk. I am shut up here to stay this whole day. And for wliat ? Not because of the casket, for they know not what I have done with it. But because thou and I sometimes go out without the password. Stick out thy toes and let me polish them." Shubenacadie resisted this mandate, and his autocrat promptly dragged one foot from under him, causing him to topple on m \ \ ft I hi i *ii 114 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JO UN. the parapet. He liissed at her. Le Ros- signol looked up at the threatening flat head and hissed back. " You are as bad as that Swiss," she laughed. " I will put a yoke on you. I will tie you to the settle in the hall. Why have all man creatures such tempers ? Thank heaven I was not born to hose and doublet. Never did I see a mild man in my life ex- cept Edelwald. As for this Swiss, I am done with him. He hath a wife, Shubena- cadie. She sits down there by the oven now ; a miserable thing turned off by D'Aul- nay de Charnisay. Have I told thee the Swiss had a soul above a common soldier and I picked him out to -pay court to me ? Beat me for it. Pull the red hair he con- demned. I would have had him sighing for me that I might pity him. The populace is beneath us, but we must amuse ourselves. Beat me, I demand. Punish me well for lb?., ing my eyes to that Swiss." Sliubenacadie understood the challenge iiiiu the tone. He was used to rendering: THE TURRET, 115 such service when his mistress repented of her sins. Yet l,e gave his tail feathers a slight flirt and quavered some guttural to sustain his part in the conversation, and to beg that he might be excused from liolding the sword this time. As she continued to prod him, however, he struck her with his beak. Le Rossignol was human in never finding herself able to bear the punishment she courted. She flew at the swan, he spread his wings for ardent warfare, and they both droi^ped to the stone floor in a whirlwind of mandolin, arms, and feathers. The dwarf kept her hold on him until he cowered and lay with his neck along the pavement. "Thou art a Turk, a rascal, a horned beast!" panted Le Kossignol. Shubena. cadie quavered plaintively, and aU her wrath was gone. She spread out one of his wings and smoothed the plumes. She nursed his head in her lap and sung to him. Two of his feathers, plucked out in the contest, she put in her bosom. He flirted his taifand SI hi ' ! »,;' V nil *f- I 116 tjil: lady of fort st. joijn. gathered himself again to his feet, and she broke her loaf and fed him and poured water into her palm for his bill. Le Rossignol esteemed the military dig- nity given to her imprisonment, and she was a hardy midget who could bear untold ex- posure when wandering at her own will. She therefore received with disgust her lady's summons to come down long before the day was spent, the messenger being only Zclie. " Ah — h, mademoiselle," warned the maid, stumping ponderousl}'^ out of the stone stair- way, " are you about to mount that swan again ?" " Who has ever seen me mount him ? " " I would be sworn there are a dozen men in the fort that have." " But you never have." " No. I have been absent with my lady." " Well, you shall see me now." The dwarf flung herself on Shubenaca- die's back, and thrust her feet down under his wings. He began to rise, and expanded, TUE TURRET. l|j Stretching his neck forward, and Zclie ut- tered a yell of terror. The weird little woman leaped off and turned her laugliing beak toward the terrified maid. Her ear^ hoops swung as she rolled her mockino- head. ^ " Oh, if it frightens you I will not ride to-day," she said. Sluibenacadie sailed across the battlements, and though they could no longer see him they knew he had taken to the river. " If I tell my lady this," shivered Zelie, " she will never let you out of the turret! And she but this moment sent me to call you down out of the chill east wind." " Tell Madame Marie," urged the dwarf insolently. " And do you ride that way over bush and brier, through mirk and dayliglit ? " "I was at Penobscot this week," answered Le Rossignol. Zc'lie gazed with a bristling of even the hairs upon her lip. " It goeth past belief," she observed, set- s fet Hi fN '^k •ill ■V^ f i ^ !■ i 1 ! i." 1 it \\ ' It , f "si hi I j- 118 Tll/C LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. ting her liamls upon her sides. *' And tho swan, what else can he do besides carry thee like a dragon ? " " He sings to me," bohlly asserted Lo Kossignol. " And many a good bit of advice have I taken from his bill." " It would be well if he turned his mind more to thinking and less to roving," re- spectfully hinted Zelie. " I will go before you downstairs and leave the key in the tur- ret door," she suggested. '' Take up these things and go when you please, and mind that I do not hear my clavier striking the wall." " Have you not felt the wind in this open donjon ? " *' The wind and I take no note of each other," answered the dwarf, lifting her chilled nose skyward. " But the cold water and bread have worked me most discomfort in this imprisonment. Go down and tell the cook for me that he is to make a hot bowl of the broth I like." " He will do it," said Zelie. hi 77//; TURRET. 119 " Yes, he will do it," said the dwarf, " and the sooner he does it the better." " Will you eat it in the hall ? " " I will cat it wherever Madame Mario IS. >» " But that you cannot do. There is great business going forward and she is shut with Madame Bronck in our other lady's room." " I like it when you presume to know better than I do what is going forward in this fort ! " exclaimed the dwarf jealously, a flush mounting her slender cheeks. *' I should best know what has happened since you left the hall," contended Zelie. " Do you think so, poor heavy-foot ? You can only hearken to what is whispered past your ear ; but I can sit here on the battle- ments and read all the secrets below me." "Can you, Mademoiselle Nightingale? For instance, where is Madame Bronck's box ? " The maid drew a deep breath at her own daring. " It is not about Madame Bronck's box that they confer. It is about the marriage % W in 120 THE LADY or FORT ST. JO/IX. Is i I IV 1. \i ^a of the IIollaiulaiKo," .answered Le Kossignol witli ;i bold guess. " I could have told you that wlicu you entered the turret.' Zelie experienced a chill through her flesh which was not caused by the damp breath of Fundy Bay. *' How doth she find out things done be- hind her back — this clever little witch ? And perhaps you will name the bridegroom, mademoiselle ? " " AVho could that be except the big IIol- landais who hath come out of the west after her ? Could she marry a priest or a com- mon soldier ? " "That is true," admitted Zclie, feeling her superstition allayed. " There must be as few women as trinkets in that wilderness Fort of Orange from which he came," added the dwarf. " Why ? " inquired Zelie, wrinkling her nose and squinting in the sunlight. But Le Rossignol took no further trouble than to give her a look of contempt, and lifted the furred garment to descend the stairs. ' X. ^V-N ACAWAX I'OET. "TliK woman wlio dispenses with any ^he town of Montreal is little to look upon. V Marie though it be named by the papists, what is it but a cluster of huts in the wikl' rnebb ' " " I was six months preparing to be wedded to Mynheer Bronck," remembered Antonia. " And will Monsieur Corlaer return here from Montreal ? " " No, madame. He will carry me with him." " I like him better for it," said Marie smiling, " though it pleases me ill enough." This was Antonia's last weak revolt against the determination of her stalwart suitor. She gained a three days' delay from him by submitting to the other condi- tions of his journey. It amused Marie to : H ii Mi- ^LV ACADIAN POET. 129 note the varying phases of Antonia's sur- render. She was ah'eady resigned to the loss of Jonas Bronck's liand, and in no slavish terror of the consequences. " And it is true I am provided with all I need," she mused on, in the line of remov- ing objections from Van Corlaer's way. " I have often promised to sliow you the gown I wore at my marriage," said Lady Dorinda, roused from her rumination on the aromatic seed, and leaving her chair to pay this gracious compliment to the Dutch widow. "It hath faded, and been discol- ored by the sea air, but you will not find a prettier fashion of lace in anything made since." She had no maid, for the women of the garrison had all been found too rude for her service. When she first came to Acadia with Claude La Tour, an English gentle- woman gladly waited on her. But now only Zulie gave her constrained and half-hearted attention, rating her as " my other lady," and plainly deploring her presence. Lady n \^ \ ''it If > t If I ill a; i.i 130 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. I I ! I'fi-i 'i Dorincla had one large box bound with iron, hidden in a nook beyond her bed. She took the key from its usual secret place and busied herself opening tlie box. Marie and Antonia heard her speak a word of surprise, but the curtained bed hid her from them. The raised lid of her box let out sweet scents of England, but that breath of old times, though she always dreaded its swepp across her resignation, had not made her cry out. She found a strange small coffer on the top of her own treasures. Its key stood in its lock, and Lady Dorinda at once turned that key, as a duty to herself. Antonia's loss of some precious casket had been pro- claimed to her, but she recollected that in her second thought, when she had already laid aside the napkin and discovered Jonas Bronck's hand. Lady Dorinda snapped the lid down and closed her own chest. She rose from her place and stretched both arms toward the couch at the foot of her bed. Having reached the couch she sank down, ih AN ACAD /AX POET, 131 her head meeting a cushion with nice cal- culation. "I am about to faint," said Lady Do- rinda, and having parted with her breath in one puff, she sincerely lost consciousness and lay in extreme calm, her clay-colored eyelids shut on a clay-colored face. Marie was used to these quiet lapses of her mother- in-law, for Lady Dorinda had not been a good sailor on their voyage; but Antonia was alarmed. They bathed her face with a few inches of towel dipped in scented water, and rubbed her hands and fanned her. She caught life in again with a gasp, and opened her eyes to their young faces. " Your ladyship attempted too much in opening that box," said Marie. " It is not good to go back through old sorrows." " Madame La Tour may be right," gasped Claude's widow. "I could not now look at that sown. Lady Dorinda," protested Antonia. When her ladyship was able to sit again by the fire, she asked both of them to leave her ; i 132 Tilt: LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. 1 I hi: I' i! I' i. iff'' JO ■ i and being alone, she quieted her anxiety about her treasures in the chest by a forced search. Nothing had been disturbed. The coals burned down red while Lady Dorinda tried to understand this happening. She dismissed all thought of the casket's belong- ing to Antonia Bronck ; — a mild and stiff- mannered young provincial who had nothing to do with ghastly tokens of war. That hand was a political hint, mysteriously sent to Lady Dorinda and embodying some im- portant message. D'Aulnay de Charnisay may have sent it as a pledge that he intended to do justice to the elder La Tour while chastising the younger. There was a strange girl in the fort, accused of coming from D'Aulnay. Lady Dorinda could feel no enmity towards D'Aulnay. Her mind swarmed with foolish thoughts, harmless because ineffectual. She felt her importance grow, and was sure that the seed of a deep political intrigue lay hid- den in her chest. 1 XI. MARGUEKITE. The days which ehipsed before Antonia Bronck's marriage were lived joyfully by a people who lost care in any festival. Van Corlaer brought the sleek - faced young dominie from camp and exhibited him in all his potency as the means of a Protestant marriage service. He could not speak a word of French, but only Dutnh was re- quired of him. All religious rites were celebrated in the hall, there being no chapel in Fort St. John, and this marriage was to be witnessed by the garrison. During this cheerful time a burning un- rest, which she concealed from her people, drove Marie about her domain. She fled up the turret stairs and stood on the cannon to look over the bay. Her husband had } ill 134 TllK LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. W m If* m been away l)ut eight days. " Yet he often makes swift journeys," she thought. The load of his misfortunes settled more heavily upon her as she drew nearer to the end of woman eompanionship. In former times, before sueh bitterness had grown in the feud between D'Aulnay and La Tour, she had made frequent voy- ages from Cape Sable up Fundy Bay to Port Koyal. The winters were then merry among noble Acadians, and the lady of Fort St. Louis at Cape Sable was hostess of a rieh seigniory. Now she had the sickness of suspense, and the wasting of life in wait- ing. Frequently during the day she met Father Jogues, who also wandered about disturbed by the evident necessity of his return to Montreal. " Monsieur," said Marie once, " can you on your conscience bless a heretic ? " " Madame," said Father Jogues, *' heaven itself blesses a good and excellent woman." " Well, monsieur, if you could lift up your hand, even with the sign which my MARGUERITE. 135 house holds idolatrous, and say a few words of prayer, I should then feel consecrated to whatever is before nic." Perhaps Father Jogues was tempted to have recourse to his vial of holy water and make the baptismal signs. Many a soul lie truly believed he had saved from burning by such secret administration. And if savages could be thus reclaimed, should he hold back from the only opportunity ever given by this beautiful soul ? His face shone. But with that gracious instinct to refrain from intermeddling which was beyond his times, he only lifted his stumps of fingers and spoke the words which she craved. A maimed priest is deprived of his sacred offices, but the pope had made a special dis- pensation for Father Jogues. *' Thanks, monsieur," said Marie. " Though it be sin to declare it, I will say your religion hath mother - comfort in it. Perhaps you have felt, in the woods among Iroquois, that sometime need of mother- comfort which a civilized woman may feel who has long outgrown her childhood." H ii m nh I ..,;(- ';; tf,; 136 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. The mandolin was heard in the barracks once during those days, for Le Rossignol had come out of the house determined to seek out Marguerite. She found the Swiss girl beside the powder magazine, for Mar- guerite had brought out a stool, and seemed trying to cure her sick spirit in the sun. The dwarf stood still and looked at her with insolent eyes. Soldiers' wives hid them- selves within their doors, cautiously watch- ing, or thrusting out their heads to shake at one another or to squall at any child venturing too near the encounter. They did not like the strange girl, and besides, she was in th»»ir way. But they liked the Nightingale less, and pitied any one singled out for her attack. " Good day to madame the former Ma- dame Klussman," said the dwarf. Mar- guerite gathered herself in defense to arise and leave her stool. But Le Kossignol gathered her mandolin in equal readiness to give pursuit. And not one woman in the barracks would have invited her quarry. MARGUERITE. I37 "I was in Penobscot last week," an- nounced Le Rossignol, and heads popped out of all the doors to lift eyebrows and open mouths at each other. The swan-rid- iug witch ! She confessed to that impossi- ble journey ! " I was in Penobscot last week," repeated Le Rossignol, holding up her mandolin and tmkling an accompaniment to her words, "and there I saw the house of D'Aulnay de Charnisay, and a very good house it is ; but my lord should burn it. It is indeed of rough logs, and the windows are so high that one must have wings to look through them ; but quite good enough for a woman of your rank, seeing that D'Aulnay hath a palace for his wife in Port Royal." " I know naught about the house," spoke Marguerite, a j^ellow sheen of anger appear- ing in her eyes. " Do you know naught about the Island of Demons, then ? " The Swiss girl muttered a negative and looked sidewise at her antagonist. 1 f ^•-- \l 1. 138 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. I "I will tell you that story," said Le Rossigiiol. She played a weird prelude. Marguerite sat still to be baited, like a hare which has no covert. The instrument being heavy for the dwarf, she propped it by resting one foot on the abutting foundation of the powder-house, and all through her recital made the mandolin's effects act upon her listener. "The Sieur dc Roberval sailed to this New Wovld, having with him among a ship- load of righteous people one Marguerite." She slammed her emphasis on the mandolin. "There have ever been too many such women, and so the Sieur de Roberval found, though this one was his niece. Like all her kind, raadame, she had a lover to her scandal. The Sieur de Roberval whipped her, and prayed over her, and shpit her up in irons in the hold ; yet live a godly life she would not. So what could he do but set her ashore on the Island of Demons ? " "I do not want to hear it," was Mar- guerite's muttered protest. i MARGUERITE. 139 But Le Rossignol advanced closer to her face. " And what does the lover do but jump overboard and swim after her ? And well was he repaid." Bang ! went the mandolin. " So they went up the rocky island togetlier, and there they built a hut. What a hor- rible land was that ! " All day long fiends twisted themselves in mist. The waves made a sadder moaninsr there than anywhere else on earth. Mon- sters crept out of the sea and grinned with dull eyes and clammy lips. No fruit, no flower, scarcely a blade of grass dared thrust itself toward the sky on that scaly island. Daylight was half dusk there forever. But the nights, the nights, madame, were full of howls, of contending beasts — the nights were storms of demons let loose to beat on that island ! " All the two people had to eat were the stores set ashore by the Siour de Eoberval. Now a child was born in their hut, and the very next night a bear knocked at the doov ■'I hi ■ 14 ■I % ill W ^' ,1 1 ■ '111 I '1 'hM 140 TUi: LADY OF FOliT 1ST. JOHN. i I -V I ill I ;- m ¥J' iiiul demanded the child. Marguerite full freely gave it to him." The girl shrunk back, and Le Rossignol was deliglited until she herself noticed that Klussman had come in from some duty out- side the gates. His eye detected her em- ployment, and he sauntered not far off with his shoulder turned to the powder-house. " Next night, madame," continued Le Rossignol, and her tone and the accent of the mandolin made an insult of that unsuit- able title, " a horned lion and two dragons knocked at the door and asked for the lover, and Marguerite full freely gave him to them. Kind soul, she would do anything to save herself ! " " Go away ! '* burst out the girl. "And from that time until a ship took her off, the demons of Demon Island tried in vain to get Marguerite. They howled around her house every night, and gaped down her chimney, and whispered through the cracks and sat on the roof. But thou knowest, madame, that a woman of her •• KMiiimt ' .■uMUJn. w ^i MARGUERITE. 141 kind, so soft and silent and downward-look- ing, is more than a match for any demon ; sure to live full easily and to die a fat saint." "Have done with this," said Klussman behind the dwarf, who turned her grotesque beak and explained, — " I am but telling the story of the Island of Demons to Madame Klussman." As soon as she had spoken the name the Swiss caught her in his hand, mandolin and all, and w^alked across the esplanade, hold- ing her at arm's length, as he might have carried an eel. Le Rossignol ineffectually squirmed and kicked, raging at the spectacle she made for laughing women and soldiers. She tried to beat the Swiss with her man- dolin, but he twisted her in another direc- tion, a cat's weight of fury. Giving her no chance to turn upon him, he opened the entrance and shut her inside the hall, and stalked back to make his explanation to his wife. Klussman had avoided any glimpse of Marguerite until this instant of taking up her defense. § » , '1' :t!l •fiw ;,:i| 142 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. M' " I pulled that witch-midget off thee," he said, speaking for the fortress to hear, " be- cause I will not have her raising tumults in the fort. Her place is in the hall to amuse her ladies." Marguerite's chin rested on her breast. " Go in the house," said Klussman roughly. " Why do you show yourself out here to be mocked at ? " The poor girl raised her swimming eyes and looked at him in the fashion he remem- bered when she was ill ; when he had nursed her with agonies of fear that she might die. The old relations between them were thus suggested in one blinding flash. Klussman turned away so sick that the walls danced around him. He went outside the fort again, and wandered around the stony height, turn- ing at every few steps to gaze and strain his eyes at that new clay in the graveyard. " When she lies beside that," muttered the soldier, "then I can be soft to her," though he knew he was already soft to her, and that her look had driven through him. V 1-A ..riT^Tir; ••;•'•.'"" """ XII. D AULNAT. The swelling spring was chilled by cold rain, driving in from the bay and sweeping through the half budded woods. The tide went up St. John lliver with an impulse which flooded undiked lowlands, yet there was no storm dangerous to shipping. Some sails hung out there in the whirl of vapors with evident intention of making* port. Marie took a glass up to the turret and stood on the cannon to watch them. Rain fine as driven stings beat her face, and ac- cumulated upon her muffling to run down and drip on the wet floor. She could make out nothing of the vessels. There were three of them, each by its sails a ship. They could not be the ships of Nicholas Denys carrying La Tour's recruits, She was m m ^ I ■J T 144 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. If I [i .i ' ; not foolish enough, however great her hus- band's prosperity with Denys, to expect of him such a miraculous voyage around Cape Sable. Sails were a rare sight on that side of the bay. The venturesome seamen of the Massa- chusetts colony chose other courses. Fundy Bay was aside from the great sea paths. Port Royal sent out no ships except D'Aul- nay's, and on La Tour's side of Acadia his was the only vessel. Certain of nothing except that these un- known comers intended to enter St. John River, Madame La Tour went downstairs and met Klussman on the wall. He turned from his outlook and said directly, — Madame, I believe it is D'Aulnay." You may be right," she answered. " Is any one outside the gates ? " " Two men went early to the garden, but the rain drove them back. Fortunately, the day being bad, no one is hunting beyond the falls." " And is our vessel well moored ? " 14 (( DA ULNA y. 145 " Her repairing was finished some days ago, you remember, madame, and she sits safe and comfortable. But D'Aulnay may burn her. When he was here before, my lord was away with the shij)." " Bar the gates and make everything se- cure at once," said Marie. "And salute these vessels presently. If it be D'Aulnay, we sent him back to his seigniory with fair speed once before, and we are no worse equipped now." She returned down the stone steps where Van Corlaer's courtship had succeeded, and threw off her wet cloak to dry herself before the fire in her room. She kneeled by the hearth; the log had burned nearly away. Her fnass of hair was twisted back in the plain fashion of the Greeks — that old sweet fashion created with the nature of woman, to which the world periodically returns when it has exhausted new devices. The smallest curves, which were tendrils rather than curls of hair, were blown out of her fleece over forehead and ears. A dark woman's III kip II' I ; ■ in i n ■ < t' X 146 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. ip beauty is independent of wind and light. When she is buffeted by weather the rich inner color comes through her skin, and the brightest dayshine can do nothing against the dusk of her eyes. If D'Aulnay was about to attack the fort, Marie was glad tliat Monsieur Corlaer had taken his bride, the missionaries, and his people and set out in the opposite direction. Barely had they escaped a siege, for they were on their way less than twenty-four hours. She had regretted their first day in a chill rain. But chill rain in boundless woods is better than sunlight in an invested fortress. Father Jogues' happy face with its forward droop and musing eyelids came before Marie's vision. " I need another of his benedictions," she said in undertone, when a knock on her door and a struggle with its latch disturbed her. " Enter, Le Rossignol," said Madame La Tour. And Le Rossignol entered, and ap- proached the hearth, standing at full length 5*i I' D'AULNAV 147 scarcely as high as her lady kneeling. Tlie room was a dim one, for all apartments looking out of the fort had windows little larger than portholes, set high in the walls. Two or three screens hid its uses as bed- chamber and dressing-room, and a few pieces of tapestry were hung, making occasional panels of grotesque figures. A couch stood near the fireplace. The dwarf's prominent features were gravely fixed, and her bushy hair stood in a huge auburn halo around them. She wet her lips with that sudden motion by which a toad may be seen to catch flies. " Madame Marie, every one is running around below and saying that D'Aulnay de Charnisay is coming again to attack the fort." "Your pretty voice has always been a pleasure to me, Nightingale." " But is it so, madame ? " "There are three ships standing in." Le Rossignol's russet-colored gown moved nearer to the fire. She stretched her claws i« \n ■<}'* m .' li I tii • in i3'' 148 THK LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. to warm and then lifted one of them near her lady's nose. " Madame Marie, if D'Aulnay do Char- nisay be coming, put no faith in that Swiss ! " " In Klussman ? " " Yes, niadamc." ** Klussman is the best soldier now in the fort," said Madame La Tour laughing. " If I put no faith in him, whom shall I trust ? " " Madame Marie, you remember that woman you brought back with you ? " " I have not seen her or spoken with her," said Marie self-reproachfuUy, " since she vexed me so sorely about her child. She is a poor creature. But they feed and house her well in the barracks." " Madame Marie, Klussman hath been talking with that woman every day this week." The dwarf's lady looked keenly at her. " Oh, no. There could be no talk be- tween those two." "But there hath been. I have watched I ■^ D'AULNAV. 149 him. Madame Marie, lie took me up when I went into the fort before Madame Brouck's marriage — when I was but phiying my chivier before that sulky knave to amuse her — he took me up in his big common- soldier fingers, gripping mo around the waist, and flung me into the hall." "Did he so?" laughed Marie. "I can well sec that my Nightingale can put no more faith in the Swiss. But hearken to me, thou bird-child. There ! Hear our salute ! " The cannon leaped almost over their heads, and the walls shook with its boom and rebound. Marie kept her finger up and waited for a reply. Minute succeeded minute. The drip of accumulated rain- drops from the door could be heard, but nothing else. Those sullen vessels paid no attention to the inquiry of Fort St. John. " Our enemy has come." She relaxed from her tense listening and with a deep breath looked at Le Rossignol. " Do not undermine the faith of one in ii ! i i r I f ,1 , I Hi f V ! r I 150 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. another in this fortress. We must all hold together now. The Swiss may have a ten- derness for his wretched wdfe which thou canst not understand. But ho is not there- fore faithless to his lord." Taking the glass and throwing on her wet cloak, Marie again ran up to the wall. But Le Rossignol sat down cross-legged by the fire, wise and brooding. " If I could see that Swiss hung," she observed, "it would scratch in my soul a long-felt itch." When calamity threatens, we turn back to our peaceful days with astonishment that they ever seemed monotonous. Marie watched the ships, and thought of the woman days with Antonia before Van Cor- laer came ; of embroidery, and teaching the Etchemins, and bringing sweet plunder from the woods for the child's grave ; of paddling on the twilight river when the tide was up, brimming and bubble-tinted ; of her lord's coming home to the autumn-night hearth ; of the little wheels and spinning, f '.1 lu. Itil D'AULNAY. 151 and Edelwald's songs — of all the common joys of that past life. The clumsy glass lately brought from France to master dis- tances in the New World, wearied her hands before it assured her eyes. D'Aulnay de Charnisay was actually com- ing to attack Fort St. John a second time. He warily anchored his vessels out of the fort's range; and hour after honr boats moved back and forth landing men and artillery on the cape at the mouth of the river, a position which gave as little scope as possible to St. John's guns. All that afternoon tents and earthworks were rising, and detail by detail a^^peared the deliberate and careful preparations of an enemy who was sitting down to a siege. At dusk camp-fires began to flame on the distant low cape, and voices moved along air made sensitively vibrant by falling damp. There was the suggested hum of a disciplined small army settling itself for the night and for early action. Madame La Tour came out to the espla- m '1 'I m ■' ii 152 THE LADY or FORT ST. JOHN. 1 > i If m^ \i\ nade of the fort, and the Swiss met her, carrying a torch which ineffectual rain- drops irritated to constant hissing. He stood, tall and careworn, holding it up that his lady might see her soldiers. Everything in the fort was ready for the siege. The sentinels were about to be doubled, and sheltered by their positions. " I have had you called together, my men," she spoke, " to say a word to you be- fore this affair begins." The torch flared its limited circle of shine, smoke wavering in a half-seen plume at its tip, and showed their erect figures in line, none very distinct, but all keenly suggestive of life. Some were black - bearded and tawny, and others had tints of the sun in flesh and hair. One was grizzled about the temples, and one was a smooth - cheeked youth. The roster of their familiar names seemed to her as precious as a rosary. They watched her, feeling her beauty as keenly as if it were a pain, and answering every lambent motion of her spirit. D'AULNAY. 153 All the buildinjjs were hinted throiiffh falling mist, and glowing hearths in the bar- racks showed like forge lights ; for the wives of the half jdozcn married soldiers had come out, one having a child in her arms. They stood behind their lady, troubled, but reliant on her. She had with them tlie prestige of success ; she had led the soldiers once before, and to a successful defense of the fort. " My men," said Marie, " when the Sieur de la Tour set out to northern Acadia he dreaded such a move as this on D'Aulnay's part. But I assured him he need not fear for us." The soldiers murmured their joy and looked at one another smiling. " The Sieur de la Tour will soon return, with help or without it. And D'Aulnay has no means of learning how small our garrison is. Bind yourselves afresh to me as you bound yourselves before the other attack." '' My lady, we do ! " I'M 11'^^ Ij;;i: Hi- in if . hi m 154 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. Out leaped every right hand, Kliissman's with the torch, which lost and caught its flame again with the sudden sweep. "That is all: and I thank you," said Marie. « We will do our best." She turned back to the tower under the torch's escort, her soldiers giving her a full cheer which might further have deceived D'Aulnay in the strength of the garrison. :iU XIII. THE SECOND DAY. i The exhilaration of fighting quickened every pulse in the fort. By next dawn the cannon began to speak. D'Aulnay had succeeded in planting batteries on a height eastward, and his guns had immediate effect. The barracks were set on fire and jjut out several times during the day. All the in- mates gathered in the stone hall, and at its fireplace the cook prepared and distributed rations. Great balls plowed up the es- planade, and the oven was shattered into a storm of stone and mortar, its adjoining mill being left with a gap in the side. Eesponsive tremors from its own artillery ran through the fortress' walls. The pieces, except that one in the turret, were all brought into two bastions, those in the ' i ! I I Ml f?! ' i3 ill 1 f i w 1 pi '11 i 1: 15C THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. southeast bastion being trained on D'Anl- nay's batteries, and the others on his camp. The gunner in the turret also dropped shot with effect among the tents, and attemj^ted to reach the shij^s. But he was obliged to use nice care, for the iron pellets heaped on the stone floor behind him represented the heavy labor of one soldier who tramped at intervals up the turret stair, carrying ammu- nition. The day had dawned rainless but sullen. It was Good Friday. The women huddling in the hall out of their usual haunts noticed Marguerite's refusal even of the broth the cook offered her. She was restless, like a leopard, and seemed full of electrical cur- rents which found no discharge except in the flicker of her eyes. Leaving the group of settles by the fireplace where these simj^le families felt more at home and least intru- sive on the grandeur of the hall, she put herself on a distant chair with her face turned from them. This gave the women a chance to backbite her, to note her roused -I ;i . THE SECOND DAY. 157 mood, and to accuse her among themselves of wishing evil to the fort and consequently to their husbands. " She hath the closest mouth in Acadia," murmured one. " Doth anybody in these walls certainly know that she came from D'Aulnay ? " "The Swiss, her husband, told it." " And if she find means to go back to D'Aulnay, it will appear where she came from," suggested Zelie. " I would he had her now," said the first woman. " I have that feeling for her that 1 have for a cat with its hairs on end." Madame La Tour came to the hall and sat briefly and alone at her own table to take her dinner and supper. Later in the siege she stood and merely took food from the cook's hands, talking with and comfort- ing her women while she ate. The surgeon of the fort was away with La Tour. She laid bandages ready, and felt obliged to dress not only the first but every wound received. Ml, :fl m m lili It,' P \:h, 158 TUE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. Pierre Doucett was brought from one of the bastions stunned and bleeding, and his wife rose up with her baby in her arms, filling the hall with her cries. The baby and her neighbors' children were moved to join her. But the eye of her lady was as awful as Pierre's wound. Her outcry sunk to a whimper; she hushed the children, and swept them off the settle so Pierre could lie there, and even paid out the roll of bandage with one hand while her lady used it. Marie controlled her own faint- ness ; for a woman on whom a man's labors are imposed must bear them. The four little children stood with fingers in their mouths, looking at these grim to- kens of war. All day long they heard the crashing or thumping of balls, and felt the leap and rebound of cannon. The cook, when he came down from a bastion to at- tend to his kettles, gave them nice bits to eat, and in spite of solemnity, they counted it a holiday to be in the hall. Pierre Dou- cett groaned upon his settle, and Madame ill THE SECOND DAY. 159 La Tour being on the lookout in the turret, Pierre Doucett's wife again took to wailiii^ over him. The other women comforted hei with their ignorant sympatliy, and Mar- guerite sat with her back to it all. But the children adapted themselves to the situation, and trooped across to the foot of the stair- way to play war. On tliat grim pavement door which led down into the keep they shot each other with merry cannonading and were laid out in turn on the steps. Le Kossignol passed hours of that day sitting on the broad door-sill of the tower. She loved to watch the fiery rain ; but she was also waiting for a lull in the cannon- ading that she might release her swan. He was always forbidden the rooms in the tower by her lady ; for he was a pugnacious crea- ture, quick to strike with beak or wings any one who irritated him. Especially did he seem tutored in the dwarf's dislike of Lady Dorinda. In peaceful times when she descended to the ground and took a sylvan excursion outside the fort, he ruffled all his f'-i ^ \ 'II li i ii h 160 Tin-: LADY or fout st. joiin. feathers and pursued her even from the river. Lo Kossi^niol had a forked branch with which she yoked him as soon as D'Aul- nay's vessels alarmed the fort. She also tied him by one leg under his usual shelter, the pent - house of the mill. He always sulked at restraint, but Le Rossignol main- tained discipline. In the destruction of the oven and the reeling of the mill, Shubena- cadie leaped upward and fell back flat- tened upon the ground. The fragments had scarcely settled before his mistress had him in her arms. At the risk of her life she dragged him across to the entrance, and sat desolately crumbling away between her fin- gers such feathers as were singed upon him, and sleeking his long gasping neck. She swallowed piteously w' ith suspense, but could not bring herself to examine his body. He had his feet ; he had his wings ; and finally he sat up of his own accord, and quavered some slight remark about the explosion. " What ails thee ? " exclaimed the dwarf indignantly. *' Thou great coward I To lie ^ T ■ i I, li-i- J; il I I I 1 TIIK SKCOXD DAY IGl down and gasp and sicken my lieart for tlio singeing of a few feathers ! " She boxed the phice where a swan's ear should be, and Shubenaeadie bit lier. It was a serene and happy moment for both of them. Le Rossignol opened the door and pushed him in. Shubenacadie stood awk- wardly with his feet sprawled on the hall pavement, and looked at tlie scenes to which his mistress introduced him. He noticed Marguerite, and hissed at her. " Be still, madman," admonished the dwarf. " Thou art an intruder here. The peasants will drive thee up chimney. Low- l)orn people, when they get into good quar- ters, always try to put their betters out." Shubenacadie waddled on, scarcely recov- ered from the prostration of his fright, and inclined to hold the inmates of the tower accountable for it. Marie had just left Pierre Doucett, and his nurses were so busy with him that the swan was not detected until he scattered the children from the stairs. 1 ■ t' Si I :.i p 1G2 77//: LADY OF FORT HT. JOHN. \ti ?! 1, ^ HI ii IH " Now, Mademoiselle Niglitliigale," said Zelie, coining heavily across the Hags, " have we not enough strange cattle in this tower, that you must bring that creature in against my lady's orders ? " " He shall not stand out there under D'Aulnay's guns. Besides, Madame Marie hath need of him," declared Lc Kossignol impudently. " She would have me ride to D'Aulnay's camp and bring her word how many men have fallen there to-day." Zelie shivered through her indignation. " Do you tell me such a tale, when you were shut in the turret for that very sin ? " " Sin that is sin in peace is virtue in war," responded Le Rossignol. "Mount, Shubenacadie." " My lady will have his neck wrung," threatened Zdlie. " She dare not. The chimney will tumble in. The fort will be taken." " Art thou working against us ? " de- manded the maid wrathfuUy. " Why should I work for you ? You TUK SECOND DAY, 1G3 should, indeed, work for me. Pick me up this swan and curry liini to the top of the stairs." " I will not do it! " cried Zdlie, revolting- through every atom of her ample bulk. " Do I want to be lifted over the turret like thistledown ? " The dwarf laughed, and caught her swan by the back of his neck. With webbed toes and beating wings he fought every step, but she pulled herself up by the balustrade and dragged him along. His bristling plumage scraped the upper floor until he and his wrath were shut within the dwarf's cham- ber. "Naught but muscle and bone and fire and flax went to the making of that stunted wight," mused Zelie, setting her knuckles in her hips. " What a pity that she escapes powder and ball, when poor Pierre Doucett is shot down I—a man with wife and child, and useful to my lady besides." It was easy for Claude La Tour's widow to fill her idleness with visions of political ' i f : I I w I 104 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. )\ if if. Ul' H alliance, but when D'Aiilnay de Charnisay began to batter the walls round her ears, her common sense resumed sway. She could be of no use outside her apartment, so slie took her meals there, trembling, but in her fashion resolute and courageous. The crasli of cannon-shot was forever associated with her first reception in Acadia. Therefore this F'.ege was a torture to her memory as well as a peril to her body. The tower had no more sheltered place, however, than Lady Dorinda's room. Zelie had orders to wait upon her with strict attention. The can- nonading dying away as darkness lifted its wall between the ojiposed forces, she hoped for such sleej) as could be had in u besieged place, and wai^'d Zdlie's knock. War, like II deluge, may drive people who detest each other into endurable contact ; and when, without even a warning stroke on the panel, Le Ttossignol slipped in as nimbly as a spider. Lady Dorinda felt no such indigna- tion as she would have felt in ordinary times. f, ! i w ■i THE SECOND DAY. 165 " May I sit by your fire, your liiglmess ? " sweetly asked the dwarf. Lady Dorliida held out a finger to indicate the chimney- side and to stay further in-ogress. Tlie sallow and corpulent woman gazed at the beak-faced atom. " It hath been repeated a thousand times, but I will say again I am no hlglinoss." Le Kossignol took the rebuke as a bird might liave taken it, her bright round eyes reflecting steadily the overblown mortal o]iposite. She had never called Lady Do- rinda anything except " her highness." Tlie dullest soldier grinned at the apt sarca.tic title. When Marie brought her to account for this annoyance, she explained that she could not call Lady Dorinda anything else. Was a poor dwarf to be pi nished because people made light of every word she used ? Yet this innocent creature took a i)k'asure of lier own in laying the term like an occa- sional lash on the woman who so despised her. Le Kossignol sat with arms around her knees, on the hearth corner. Lady Do- '*■(*! Z-- V" If:- ' i IGG Tlfl'J LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN: rintla in her cusliloncd chair chewed aro- matic seeds. Tlie room, like a flower garden, exhaled all its perfumes at evening. Bottles of es- s(!nces and pots of pomade and small bags of i)0wders were set out, for the luxurious use of its inmate when Zelie prepared her for the night. Le Rossignol enjoyed these scents. The sweet-odored atmosphere which clung about Lady Dorinda was her one at- tribute approved by the dwarf. Madame Marie never in any way appealed to the nose. Madame Marie's garments were scentless as outdoor air, and the freshness )f outdoor air seemed to belong to them. Le Kossignol liked to Iiave her senses stimu- lated, and she counted it a lucky thing to sit by that deep fire and smell the heavy fragrance of the room. A branched silver candlestick held two lighted tapers on the dressing - table The bed curtains were parted, revealing a huge expanse of resting- ])lace within ; and heavy folds shut the starlit-world from the windows. One could THE SECOND DAY. 1G7 here ioYcrat tliat the oven was blown up, and the ground of the fort jdowed with shot and sown with mortar. " Is there no fire in the hall ? " inquired Lady Dorinda. " It hath all the common lierd from the barracks around it/' exphiined Le Kossig- nol. "And Pierre Doucett is stretched there, groaning over the loss of half his face." '' Where is Madame La Tour ? " "She hatli gone out on the waUs since the firing stopped. Our gunner in the tur- ret told me that two guns are to be moved back before moonrise into the bastions they were taken from. Madame Marie is afraid D'Aulnay will try to encompass the fort to-nioht." "And what business took thee into the turret ? " " Your highness " — " Ladyship," corrected Lady Dorinda. — '*I like to see D'Aulnay's torches," proceeded the dwarf, without accepting cor- 1\ pi ■!'•■■ r!, i 1G8 r/zz: zjz)}' 0/' F<97?r st. jo /in. rection. " His soldiers are burying the dead over there. lie needs a stone tower with walls seven feet thick like ours, does D'Aul- nay." Lady Dorinda put another seed in her mouth, and reflected that Zelie's attendance was tardier than usual. She inquired with shadings of disapjiroval, — " Is Madame La Tour's woman also on the walls ? " " Not Zelie, your highness " — " Ladyship," insisted Lady Dorinda. "That heavy-foot Zelie," chuckled the dwarf, deaf to correction, "a fine bit of thistledown would she be to blow around the walls. Zelie is laying beds for the chil- dren, and she hath come to words with the cook through trying to stenl eggs to roast for them. We have but few wild fowl ^rl! { eo'ffs in store." " Tell her tlir.t I require her," said Lady Dorinda, fretted by the irregularities of life in a siege. " Madame La Tour will account with her if she neglects her rightful duties." 4: f THE SECOND DAY. 169 Le Kossignol crawled leluctantly up to stand in her dots of moccasins. " Yes, your highness " — " Ladyship," repeated Ckude La Tour's "vidow, to whom the sting was forever fresh, reminding her of a once possible regency. " But have you heard about the woman that was brought into the fortress before Madame Bronck went away ? " " What of her ? " " The Swiss says she comes from D'AuI- nay." " It is Zelie that I require," said Lady Doiiiida with discouraging brevity. Le Rossignol dropped her face, appenring to give round-eyed speculation to the fire. " It is believed that D'Aulnay sent hy that strange woman a box of poison into the fort t3 work secret mischief. But," added the dwarf, looking up in open perjdexity, " that box cannot now be found." " Perhaps you can tell v/hat manner of box it was," said Liuly Dorinda with irony, though a dull red was startled into her cheeks. M I'l 170 tup: lady of fort st. john. " Madame Marie says it was a tiny box of oak, thick set with nails. She woukl not alarm the fort, so she had search made for it in Madame Bronck's name." Lady Dorinda, incredulous, hut trem- bling, divined at once that the dwarf had hid that coffer in her chest. Perhaps the dwarf had procured the hand and replaced some valuable of Madame Bronck's with it. She longed to have the little beast shaken and made to confess. While she was con- sidering what she could do with dignity, Zclie rapped and was admitted, and Le lios- signol escaped into outside darkness. Hours passed, however, before Shuben- acadie's i .istress sought his so<'iety. She undressed in her black cell which had but one loop-hole looking toward the north, and taking the swan upon her bed tried to reconcile him to blankets. But Shuben- acadie 2)rotested with both wings against a woolly covering which was not in his expe- rience. The times were disjointed for him. He took no interest in Lady Dorinda and '1 ■■!■ Tin: SKCOND DAY. I'Ji the box of Madame Bronck, and scratched the pallet with his toes and the nail at the end of his bill. But Le Kossio-nol pushed him down and pressed her confidences upon this familiar. " So her highness threw that box out into the fort. I had to shiver and wait until Zelie left her, but I knew she would choose to rid herself of it throuo-h a window, for she would scarce burn it, she hath not adroitness to drop it in the hall, show it to Madame Marie she would not, and keep it longer to poison her court gowns she dare not. She hath found it before this. Her looking-glass was the only place apter than that chest. I would give much to know what her yellow highness thought of that hand. Here, mine own Shubenacadie, I have brought thee this sweet biscuit moist- ened with water. Eat, and scratch me not. " And little did its studding of nails avail the box, for the fall split it in three pieces ; and I hid them under rubbish, for mortar '1 If'. :■■ I '.i . ' m \h 172 77/ A' A.l/M' OF Four ST. JOHN. and stones arc plentiful down there. You should have seen my shade stretch under the moon like a tall hobgoblin. The near- est sentinel on the wall challenges me. * Who is there ? ' ' Le Kossignol.' ' What are you doing ? ' * Looking for my swan's yoke.' Then he laughs — little knowing how I meant to serve his officer. The IIol- landais mummy hath been of more use to me than trinkets. T frightened her high- ness with it, and now it is set to torment the Swiss. Let me tell thee, Shubenacadie : punishment comes even on a swan who woidd stretch up his neck and stand taller than his mistress. Wert thou not blown up with the oven ? Hide thy head and take warning." I 1^. !' t > k^ ^ XIV. THE STHLGGLE BETWEEN POWERS. The dwarf's report about Klussmaii forced Madame La Tour to watcli the strange girl ; but Marguerite seemed to take no notice of any soldier who came and went in the hall. As for the Swiss, he carried trouble on his self-revealing face, but not treachery. Klussman camped at night on the floor with other soldiers off guard; screens and the tall settles being placed in a row between this military bivouac and women and children of the household pro- tected near the stairs. He awoke as often as the guard was changed, and when dawn- light instead of moonlight appeared with the last relief, he sprang up, and took the breastplate which had been laid aside for his better rest. Out of its hollow fell Jonas 11 -I I'i!' : 1 i If ^ ; 1 '-. 1' 174 THE LADY OF FORT tiT. JOllX. BroiK'k's luiiul, bare and croueliing with stiff fingers on the pavement. The sohliers about to He down hiughed at themselves and Khissman for reeoiling fi-om it, and fury sueeeeded paHor in his bh>nd facjc. " Did you do that ? " he demanded of the men, but before they could utter denials, his suspicion leaped the settles. Spurning* Jonas Bronck's treasured fragment with his boot in a manner which Antonia could never have forgiven, Klussman sent it to the hearth and strode after it. lie had not far to look for Marguerite. As his eye traveled recklessly into the women's camp, he en- countered her beside him, sitting on the floor behind a settle and matching the red of a burning tree trunk with the red of her bruised eyelids. " Did you put that in my breastplate ? " said Klussman, pointing to the hand as it lay palm upwards. Marguerite shuddered and burst out crying. This had been her employment much of the night, but the nervous fit of childish weeping swept away all of Klussman's self-control. TlIK STRLGGLi: lil.rWEKN roWLUi^. 175 " No ; no ; " she ropoiited. " You think I do everything that is horrible." And she sobbed n})on her liands. Klussnian stooped down and tossed the liand like an eseaped eoal behind the log. As he stooped he said, — *" I don't think that. Don't ery. If you cry I will shoot ni3self." iNIargnerite looked nj> and saw his help- lessness in his faee. He had sought her before, but only with reproaehes. Now his resentment was broken. Twice had the dwarf's mischief thrown ^larguerite on his compassion, and thereby diminished his I'c- sistance to her. Jonas Bronek's hand, in its red-hot seclusion behind the log, writhed and smoked, discharging its grosser parts up the chimney's shaft. Unseen, it lay a wire-like outline of bone ; nnseen, it became a hand of fairy ashes, trembling in every filmy atom ; finally an ember fell upon it, and where a hand had been some bits of lime lay in a white glov;. Klussman went out and mounted one of di u IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1.25 IIIIM IM IIIIIM IIIIIZ2 1.4 III 1.6 V] ^ n ■e,i ^l. /A ''W 7 Photographic Sdences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, NY. 14580 (716) 872-4503 4? i\ \ iV \ % V ^ .^ S o^ %^ \^ <^ I ,<' I I 176 rilE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. the bastions, where the gunners were al- ready preparing for work. The weather had changed in the night, and the sky seemed immeasurably lifted while yet filled with the uncertainties of dawn. Fundy Bay revealed more and more of its clean blue- emerald level, and far eastward the glassy water shaded up to a flushing of pink. Smoke rose from the mess fires in D'Aul- nay's camp. The first light puff of burnt powder sprung from his batteries, and the artillery duel again began. " If we had but enough soldiers to make a sally," said Madame La Tour to her offi- cer, as she also came for an instant to the bastion, " we might take his batteries. Oh, for monsieur to appear on the bay with a stout shipload of men." " It is time he came," said the Swiss. "Yes, we shall see him or have news of him soon." In the tumult of Klussman's mind Jonas Bronck's hand never again came uppermost. He cared nothing and thought nothing about TnE STRUGGLE BETWEEN POWERS. 177 that weird fragment, in the midst of living disaster. It had merely been the occasion of his surrendering to Marguerite. He de- termined that when La Tour returned and the siege was raised, if he survived he would take his wife and go to some new colony. Live without her he could not. Yet neither could he reuspouse her in Fort St. John, where he had himself openly denounced her. Spring that day leaped forward to a sem- blance of June. The sun poured warmth ; the very air renewed life. But to Kluss- man it was the brilliancy of passing de- lirium. He did not feel when gun-metal touched his hands. The sound of the in- coming tide, which could be heard betwixt artillery boomings, and the hint of birds which that sky gave, were mute against his thoughts. Though D'Aulnay's loss was visibly heavy, it proved also an ill day for the fort. The southeast bastion was raked by a fire which disabled the guns and killed three men. Five others were wounded at various i; I 178 77/ A' LADY OF FOHT ST. JOHN. ■ \ ■'i| posts. The long spring twilight sunk through an orange horizon rim and filled up the measure which makes night, before firing reluctantly stopped. Marie had ground opened near the powdur magazine to make a temporary grave for her three dead. They had no families. She held a taper in her hand and read a service over them. One bastion and so many men being disabled, a sentinel was posted in the turret after tlie gunners descended. The Swiss took this duty on himself, and felt his way up the pitch-black stairs. lie had not seen Marguerite in the hall when he Imrriedly took food, but she was safe in the tower. No woman ventured out in the storm of shot. The barracks were charred and bat- tered. As Klussman reached the turret door he exclaimed against some human touch, but caught his breath and surrendered himself to Marguerite's arms, holding her soft 'body and smoothing her silk-stranded hair. "I heard you say you would come up THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN POWERS. 179 here," murmured Marguerite. "And the door was unlocked." " Where have you been since morning ? " " Beliind a screen in the great hall. The women arc cruel." Klussxnan hated the women. He kissed his wife with the first kiss since their separa- tion, and all the toils of war failed to unman him like that kiss. " But there was that child ! " he groaned. " That was not my child," said Mar- guerite. " The baby brought here with you ! " " It was not mine." " Whose was it ? " " It was a drunken soldier's. His wife died. They made me take care of it," said Marguerite resentfully. "Why didn't you tell me that?" ex- claimed Klussman. " You made me lie to my lady ! " Marguerite had no answer. He under- stood her reticence, and the degradation which could not be excused. .i ^:i * ! in i 180 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. " Who made you take care of it ? " " He did." " D'Aulnay ? " Klussman uttered through his teeth. " Yes ; I don't like him." " /like him I " said the savage Swiss. " He is cruel," complained Marguerite, "andselHsh." The Swiss pressed his cheek to her soft cheek. *' I never was selfish and cruel to thee," he said, weakly. " No, you never were." " Then why," burpt out the husband afresh, " did you leave me to follow that beast of prey ? " Marguerite brought a sob from her breast which was like a sword through Kluss- man. He smoothed and smoothed her hair. "But what did I ever do to thee, Mar- guerite ? " • ** I always -iked you best," she said. " But he was a great lord. The women in barracks are so hateful, and a common sol- dier is naught." TUE STRUGGLE BETWEEN POWERS. 181 " You would be the lady of a seignior," hissed Klussman. "Thou kuowest I was fit for that," re- torted Marguerite with spirit. " I know thou wert. It is marrying me that has been thy ruin." He groaned with his head hanging, " We are not ruined yet," she said, " if you care for me." " That was a stranger child ? " he re- peated. " All the train knew it to be a mother- less child. He had no right to thrust it on me." "I demand no testimony of D'Aulnay's followers," said Klassman roughly. He let her go fro!n his arms, and stepped to the battlements. His gaze moved over the square of the fortress, and eastward to that blur of whiteness which hinted the ene- my's tents, the hint being verified by a light or two. " I have a word to tell you," said JVIar- guerite, leaning beside her husband. i: if I 1l ti :i; '^ k ^i 1 I I : 182 Tflf: LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. " I have this to tell thee," said the Swiss. " We must leave Acadia." I lis arm again fondled her, and he comforted his sore spirit with an instant's thought of home and peace somewhere. " Yes. We can go to Penobscot," she said. '' Penobscot ? " he repeated with suspi- cion. " The king will give you a grant of Penobscot." " The king will give it to — me ? " " Yes. And it is a great seigniory." " How do you know the king will do that ? " " He told me to tell you ; he promised it." " The king ? You never saw the king." " No." "D'Aulnay?" " Yes." " I would I had him by the throat I " burst out Klussman. Marguerite leaned her cheek on the stone and sighed. The bay THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN POWERS. 183 Hecmed full of salty spice. It was a night in which the human soul must beat against casements to break free and roam the blessed dark. All of spring was in the air. Directly overhead stood the north star, with slow constellations wheeling in review before him. *' So D'Aulnay sent you to spy on my lord, as my lord believed?" *^ You shall not call me a spy. I came to my husband. I hate him," she added in a resentful burst. "He made me walk the marshes, miles and miles alone, carrying that child." "Why the child?" " Because the people from St. John would be sure to pity it." " And what word did he send you to tell me ? " demanded Klussman. " Give me that word." Marguerite waited with her face down- cast. " It was kind of him to think of me," said the Swiss ; " and to send you with the a 1 ! message !" ■ j . ' 1 t i ' 1 1 '•'1 ' 1 ii . W '■ \ i ■ j 1 t 'i 1 f 1, 1 i i n • : 184 T/IE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHX. She felt mocked, and drooped against the wall. And in the midst of his scorn he took her face in his hands with a softness ho could not master. " Give me the word," he repeated. Mar- guerite drew his neck down and whispered, but before she finished whispering Kluss- man flung her against the cannon with an oath. " I thought it would be, betray my lord's fortress to D'Aulnay de Charnisay ! Go down stairs. Marguerite Klussman. When I have less matter in hand, I will flog thee ! Hast thou no wit at all ? To come from a man who broke faith with thee, and offer his faith to me I Bribe me with Penobscot to betray St. John to him ! " Marguerite sat on the floor. She whis- pered, gasping, — " Tell not the whole fortress." Klussman ceased to talk, but his heels rung on the stone as he paced the turret. He felt himself grow old as silence became massive betwixt his wife and him. The ^ THE .STRUGGLE BETWEEN POWERS. 185 moon rose, piercing the cannon embrasure, and showed ]\farguerite weeping against the wall. The mass of silence drove him re- sistless before her will. Tliat soft and child- like shape did not propose treason to him. He understood that she thouglit only of her- self and him. It was her method of bring, ing profit out of the times. He heard hts relief stumble at the foot of the turret stairs, and went down the winding darkness to stop and send the soldier back to bed. " I am not sleepy," said Klussman. " I slept last night. Go and rest till daybreak." And the man willingly went. Marguerite had not moved a fold of her gown when her husband again came into the lighted tower. The Swiss lifted her up and made her stand beside him while he stanched her tears. " You hurt me when you threw me against the cannon," she said. "I was rough. But I am too foolish fond to hold anger. It has worn me out to be hard on thee. I am not the man I was." \n ;>■ * \ : ! f , M .: i I 186 Tin: LADY or fort st. john. Marguerite clung around him. He dumbly felt his misfortune in being tliralled by a nature of greater moral crudity than his own. But she was his portion in the world. "You flung me against the cannon be- cause I wanted you made a seignior." " It was because D'Aulnay wanted me made a traitor." " What is there to do, indeed ? " mur- mured Marguerite. '* He said if you would take the sentinels off the wall on the en- trance side of the fort, at daybreak any morning, he will be ready to scale that wall." " But how will ho know I have taken the sentinels off? " "You must hold up a ladder in your hands." "The tower is between that side of the fort and D'Aulnay's camp. No one would see me standing with a ladder in my hands." " When you set the ladder against the outside wall, it is all you have to do, except THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN POWERS. 187 to take me with you as you climb down. It is their affair to see the signal." " So D'Aulnay plans an ambush between us and the river ? And suppose I did all that and the enemy failed to see the signal ? I should go down there to be hung, or my lady would have me thrown into the keep here, and perhaps shot. I ought to be shot." " They will see the signal," insisted Mar- guerite. " I know all that is to be done. He made me say it over until I tired of it. You must mount the wall where the gate is : that side of the fort toward the river, the camp being on another side." Klussman again smoothed her hair and argued with her as with a child. " I cannot betray my lady. You see how madame trusts me." She grieved against his hard breastplate with insistence which pierced even that. " I am indeed not fit to be thought on beside the lady ! " " I would do anything for thee but betray my lady." ¥■ 4] H'f f li m 188 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. a And when you have held her fort for her will she advance you by so much as a hand- ful of land ? " " I was made lieutenant since the last siege. »> " But now you may be a seignior with a holding of your own," repeated Marguerite. So they talked the night away. She showed him on one hand a future of honor and plenty which he ought not to withhold from her ; and on the other, a wandering forth to endless hardships. D'Aulnay had worked them harm ; but this was in her mind an argument that he should now work them good. Being a selfish lord, powerful and cruel, he could demand this service as the condition of making her husband master of Penobscot ; and the service itself she re- garded as a small one compared to her lone tramping of the marshes to La Tour's stock- ade. D'Aulnay was certain to take Fort St. John some time. He had the king and all France behind him ; the La Tours had nobody. Marguerite was a woman who could 4 . THE STRUGGLE BETWEEN FOWERS. 189 see no harm in advancing her husband by the downfall of his mere employers. Her husband must be advanced. She saw herself lady of Penobscot. The Easter dawn began to grow over the world. Klussman remembered what day it was, and lifted her up to look over the battlements at light breaking from tlie east. Marguerite turned her head from point to point of the dewy world once more rising out of chaos. She showed her husband a new trench and a line of breastworks be- tween the fort and the river. These had been made in the night, and might have been detected by him if he had guarded his post. The jutting of rocks probably hid them from sentinels below. *'D'Auluay is coming nearer," said the Swiss, looking with haggard indifferent eyes at these preparations, and an occasional head venturing above the fresh ridge. Mar- guerite threw her arms around her hus- band's neck, and hung on liiui with kisses. ■ i :!if: ■1 \:\ !i- II 190 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. " Come on, then," he said, speaking with the desperate conviction of a man who has lost himself. " I have to do it. You will see me hang for this, but I '11 do it for you." I S ' I XV. A SOLDIER. Marie felt herseH caUed through the deepest depths of sleep, and sat up in the robe of fur which she had wrapped around ber for her night bivouac. There was some alarm at her door. The enemy might be on the walls. She tingled with the intense re- turn of life, and was opening the door with- out conscious motion. Nobody stood outside in the hall except the dwarf, whose aureole of foxy hair surrounded features pinched by anxiety. " Madame Marie — Madame Marie ! The Swiss has gone to give up the fort to D'Aul- nay." " Has gone ? " " He came down from the turret with his wife, who persuaded him. I listened all 'i i i 1! I ! Mi . P in ii ' ^r^ (' I Mf ; ¥'1 ■ \v 1:1 u f r i 192 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN, night on the stairs. D'Aulnay is ready to mount the wall when he gives the signal. I had to hide me until the woman and the Swiss passed Lelow. They are now going to the wall to give the signal." Through Marie passed that worst shock of all human experience. To see your trusted ally transmuted into your secret most deadly foe, sickens the heart as death surely cannot sicken it. Like many a pierced wretch who has collapsed suddenly into the dust while the stab yet held the knife, she whispered feebly, — " He could not do that ! " The stern blackness of her eyes seemed to annihilate all the rest of her face. Was rock itself stable under-foot ? Why should one care to prolong life, when life only proved how cruel and worthless are the peo- ple for whom we labor ? " Madame Marie, he is now doing it. Pie was to hold up a ladder on the wall." " Wliich wall ? " "This one — where the irate is." A SOLDIER. X93 Marie looked through the glass in her door which opened toward the battlements, rubbed aside moisture, and looked again. While one breath could be drawn Kluss- man was standing in the dawn-light with a ladder raised overhead. She caught up a pair of long pistols which had lain beside her all night. " Rouse the men below — quick ! " she said to Le Rossignol, and ran up the steps to the wall. No sentinels were there. The Swiss had already dropped down the ladder outside and was out of sight, and she heard the running, climbing feet of D'Aulnay's men coming to take the advantage afforded them. Sentinels in the other two bastions turned with surprise at her cry. They had seen Klussman relieving the guard, but his subtle action escaped their watch-worn eyes. They only noticed that he had the strano-o woman with him. D'Aulnay's men were at the foot of the wall planting ladders. They were swarm- ing up. Marie met them with the sentinels If' m ■ !'!' - : ? r f f \ fir l'^ rir n r i; T -! 194 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. joining her and the sohliers rushing from below. The discliarge of firearms, the clash of opposing metals, the thuds of falling bodies, cries, breathless struggling, clubbed weapons sweeping the battlements — filled one vast minute. Ladders were thrown back to the stones, and D'Aulnay's repulsed men were obliged to take once more to their trench, carrying the stunned and wounded. A cannon was trained on their breastworks, and St. John belched thunder and fire down the path of retreat. The Swiss's treason had been useless to the enemy. The people of the fort saw him hurried more like a prisoner than an ally towards D'Aulnay's camp, his wife beside him. " Oh, Klussman," thought the lady of St. John, as she turned to station guards at every exposed point and to continue that day's fight, " you knew in another way what it is to be betrayed. How could you put this anguish upon me ? " The furious and powder-grimed men, her faithful soldiers, hooted at the Swiss from A SOLDIER. ;[95 tlieir bastions, not knowing what a heart lie carried with him. He turned once and made them a gesture of defiance, more pa- thetic than any wail for pardon, but they saw only the treason of the man, and shot at him with a good will. Through smoke and ball-plowed earth, D'Aulnay\s soldiers ran into camp, and liis batteries answered. Artillery echoes were scattered far through the woods, into the very depths of which that untarnished Easter weather seemed to stoop, coaxing growths from the swelling ground. ^ Advancing and pausing with equal cau- tion, a man came out of the northern forest toward St. John K:,'er. JSTo part of his per- son was covered with armor. And instead of the rich and formal dress then worn by the Huguenots even in the wilderness, he wore a complete suit of hunter's buckskin which gave his supple muscles a freedom beautiful to see. His young face was freshly shaved, showing the clean fine texture of the skin. For having nearly finished his i|- ' ' t >l 196 77/ A" LADY OF FORT ST. JOI/y. y ' ■' Hi '■^ journey from the head of Fiiiuly Bay, he had that morning prepared himself to ap- pear what he was in Fort St. John — a man of good birth and nurture. Ilis portables were rolled tightly in a blanket and strapped to his shoulders. A hunting-knife and two long pistols armed him. His head was cov- ered with a cap of beaver skin, and he wore moccasins. Not an ounce of unnecessary weight hampered him. The booming of cannon had met him so far off on that day's march that he under- stood well the state of siege in which St. John would be found ; and long before there was any glimpse of D'Aulnay's tents and earthworks, the problem of getting into the fort occupied his mind. For D'Aulnay's guards might be extended in every direc- tion. But the first task in hand was to cross the river. One or two old canoes could be seen on the other side ; cast-off property of the Etchemin Indians who had broken camp. Being on the wrong bank these were as useless to him as dream A SOLDIKli. 107 / i ('^inoes. But had a ferryman stood in wait- i^n-, it was perilous to cross in open day, ivithin possible sight of the enemy. So the 'Soldier moved carefully down to a shelter ^f rocks below the falls, opposite that place where Van Corlacr had watched the tide I sweep up and drown the rapids. From tliis I post he got a view of La Tour's small sliip, / yet anchored and safe at its usual moorings.' ^ No human life was visible about it. "The ship would afford me good quar- ters," said the soldier to himself, « had I naught to do but rest. But I must get into the fort this night; and how is it to be done?" All the thunders of war, and all the ef- fort and danger to be undertaken, could not put his late companions out of his mind. , He lay with hands clasped under his head, ' and looked back at the trees visibly leafing in the warm Easter air. They were mucli to this man in all their differences and habits, tlieir whisperings and silences. They had marched with him through countless I i ill I :i i > i!!^ i ■'J 1 i ; 1. j . ' i .i:ii l^'ii 198 r//£ LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. lone long reachos, passing him from one to another with friendly recommendation. It hurt him to notice a broken or deformed one among them ; but one full and nobl y equipped from root to top crown was Na- ture's most triumphant shout. There is a glory of the sun and a glory of the moon, but to one who loves them there is another glory of the trees. *' In autumn," thought the soldier, " I have seen light desert the skies and take to the trees and finally spread itself beneath them, a material glow, flake on flake. But in the spring, before their secret is spoken, when they throb, and restrain the force driving through them, then have I most comfort with them, for they live as I live." Shadows grew on the river, and ripples were arrested and turned back to flow up stream. There was but one way for him to cross the river, and that was to swim. And the best time to swim was when the tide brimmed over the current and trem- bled at its turn, a broad and limpid expanse A SOLDIER. 199 { of water, cold, dangerous, repellent to the chilled plunging body ; but safer and more easily paddled through than when the cur- rent, angular as a skeleton, sought the bay at its lowest ebb. Fortunately tide and twilight favored the young soldier together. lie stripped him- self and bound his weapons and clothes in one tight packet on his head. At first it was easy to tread water : the salt brine upheld him. But in the middle of the river it was wise to sink close to the surface and carry as small a ripple as possible ; for D'Aulnay's guards might be posted nearer than he knew. The water, deceptive a^ its outer edges in iridescent reflection of warm clouds, was cold as glacier drippings in mid- stream. He swam with desperate calmness, guarding himself by every stroke against cramp. The bundle oppressed him. lie would have cast it off, but dared not change by a thought of variation the routine of his struggle. Hardy and experienced woods- man as he was, he staggered out on the \\ it 1 ■ t I I. i:l .f-r 41 Mi >■ , I, , ^ 200 T/IIJ LADY OF FORT ST. JO/f.V. other side and lay a space in the sand, too exhausted to move. The tide began to rceedo, leaving stranded seaweed in green or brown streaks, the color of which could be determined only by the dullness or vividness of its shine through the dusk. As soon as he was al)le, the soldier sat up, shook out his blanket and rolled himself in it. The first large stars were trembling out. He lay and smelled gunpowder mingling with the saltness of the bay and the evening incense of the earth. There was a moose's lip in his wallet, the last spoil of his wilderness march, taken from game shot the night before and cooked at his morning fire. lie ate it, still lying in the sand. Lights began to appear in the direction of D'Aulnay's camp, but the fort held itself dark and close. lie thought of the grassy meadow rivulet which was al- ways empty at low tide, and that it might afford him some shelter in his nearer ap- proach to the fort. lie dressed and put on his wea])ons, but left everything else except A StUJUr.R. 1>01 ^S tlio blanket lying where he had Luulod. In this venture little could be carried except the rnan and his life. The frontier grave- yard outlined itself dimly against the ex- panse of landscape. The new-turned clay therein gave him a start. He crept over the border of stones, went close, and leaned down to measure the length of the fresh grave with his outstretched hands. A sigh of relief which was as strong as a sob burst from the soldier. " It is only that child we found at the stockade," he murmured, and stepped on among the older mounds and leaped the opposite boundary, to descend that dip of land which the tide invaded. A\"ater yet shone there on the grass. Too impatient to wait until the tide ran low, he found the log, and moved carefully forward, through increasing dusk, on hands and knees within closer range of the fort, liemembering that his buckskin might make an inviting spot on the slope, he wrapped his dark blanket around him. The chorus of inscx't life and p ¥ i il i I 202 THE LADY JF FORT ST. JOHN. of water creatures, which had scarcely been tuned for the season, began to raise ex- perimental notes. And now a splash like tlie leap of a fish came from the river. The moon would be late ; he thought of that with satisfaction. There was a little mist blown aloft over the stars, yet the night did not promise to be cloudy. The whole environment of Fort St. John was so familiar to the young soldier that he found no unusual stone in his way. That side toward the garden might be the side least exposed to D'Aulnay's forces at night. If he could reach the southwest bastion un- seen, he could ask for a ladder. There was every likelihood of his being shot before the sentinels recognized him, yet he might be more fortunate. Balancing these chances, he moved toward that angle of shadow which the fortress lifted against the south- ern sky. Long rays of light within the walls were thrown up and moved on dark- ness like the pulsing motions of the aurora. " Who goes there ? " said a voice. ' A SOLDIER. 203 )ra. The soldier lay flat against the earth. lie had imagined the browsing sound of cattle near him. But a standinii* fii^^ure now condensed itself from the general dusk, some distance up the slope betwixt him and the bastion. The challenger was entirely apart from the fort. As he flattened liim- self in breathless waiting for a shot which might follow, a clatter began at his very ears, some animal bounded over him with a glancing cut of its hoof, and galloped toward the trench below St. John's gate. He lieard another exclamation, — this rapid traveler had jxcbably startled another sentinel. Tlie man who had challenged liim laughed softly in the darkness. All the Sable Island ponies must be loose upon tlie slope. D' Aul- nay's men had taken possession of the stable and cattle, and the wild and fright- ened ponies were scattered. As his ear lay so near the ground the soldier heard other little hoofs startled to action, and a snort or two from suspicious nostrils. He crept away from the sentinel without W' : t m\ 204 T]I£ LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. further challenge. It was evident that D'Aulnay had encompassed the fort with guards. The young soldier crept slowly down the rocky hillock, avoided another sentinel, and, after long caution and self-restraint and polishing the earth with his buckskin, crawled into the empty trench. The Sable Island ponies continually helped him. They were so nervous and so agile that the sen- tinels ceased to watch moving shadows. The soldier looked up at St. John and its tower, knowing that he must enter in some manner before the moon rose, lie dreaded the red brightness of moon - dawn, when guards whom he could discern against the stony ascent might detect his forehead above the breastwork. Behind him stretclied an alluvial flat to the river's sands. The tide was running swiftly out, and under starlight its swirls and long muscular sweeps could be followed by a practiced eye. As the soldier glanced warily in every direction, two lights left D'Aulnay's camp A SOLDIER. 205 aiitl approached hiin, jerking and flaring in tlie hands of men who wore evidently walk- ing over irregular ground. They might be coming directly to take possession of the trench. But why should they proclaim their intention with torches to the batteries of Fort St. John? He looked around for some refuge from the advancing circle of smoky shine, and moved backwards alonir the bottom of the trend). The lio-ht stretched over and bridged him, leaving him in a stream of deep shadow, protected by the breastwork from sentinels above. lie could therefore lift a cautious eye at the back of the trench, and scan the group now moving betwixt him and the river. There were seven persons, only one of whom strode the stones with rceldess feet. This man's hands were tied behind his back, and a rope was noosed around his neck and held at the other end bv a soldier. '•It is Khissman, our Swiss!" flashed through the sohller in the trench, with a mighty tlirob of rage and shame, and anx- \H\ Wf •i ' ' 206 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. P I m Pi' 4 II' m m w "ill iety for the lady in the fort. If Klussman had been taken prisoner, the guns of St. John would surely speak in his behalf when he was about to be hanged before its very gate. Such a parade of the act must be discovered on the walls. It was plain that Klussman had deserted to D'Aulnay, and was now enjoying D'Aulnay's gratitude. *' The tree that doth best front the gates," said one of the men, pointing with his torch to an elm in the alluvial soil : " my lord said the tree that doth best front the gates.'* " That hath no fit limbs," objected an- other. " He said the tree that doth best front the gates," insisted the first man. " Be- sides this one, what shrub hereabouts is tall enough for our use ? " They moved down towards the elm. A stool carried by one man showed its long legs grotesquely behind his back. There were six persons besides the prisoner, all soldiers except one, who wore the coarse, long, cord-girdled gown of a Capuchin. His A SOLDIER. 207 hood was drawn over his face, and the torches imperfectly showed that he was of the bare-footed order and wore only sandals. He held up a crucifix and walked close be- side Klussiuan. But the Swiss gazed all around the dark world which he was so soon to leave, and up at the fortress he had at- tempted to betray, and never once at the murmuring friar. The soldier in the trench heard a breath- ing near him, and saw that a number of the ponies, drawn by the light, had left their fitful grazing and were venturing step by step beyond the end of the trench. Some association of this scene with soldiers who used to feed them at night, after a hard day of drawing home the winter logs, may have stirred behind their shaggy foreheads. He took his hunting-knife with sudden and desperate intention, threw off his moccasins, cut his leggins short at the middle of the leg, and silently divided his blanket into strii)s. Preparations were going forward under r 111 r^i l» fi: ■i ll \ 1 lk 1 ii 1 J 1 208 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. tlie elm. One of tlie soldiers climbed the tree and crept out upon an arched limb, catching the rope end thrown up to him. Both torches were given to one man, that all the others might set themselves to the task. Klussman stood upon the stool, which they had brought for the purpose from the cook's galley in one of their ships. His blond face, across which all his thoughts used to parade, was cast up by the torches like a stiffened mask, hopeless yet fearless in its expression. " Come, Father Vincent,"' said the man who had made the knot, sliding down the tree. " This is a Huguenot fellow, and good words are lost on him. I wonder that my lord let him have a friar to comfort him." "lletire. Father Vincent," said the men around the stool, with more roughness than they would have shown to a favorite con- fessor of D'Aulnay's. The Capuchin turned and walked towai'd the troncli. The soldier in the trench could not hoar what they said, but lie had time for no A SOLDIER. 209 fiiitlior thought of Khissinau. lie liad been watching the ironies with the eonvietion that his own life hung on wliat lie iniglit drive them to do. They alternately snuffed at Klussman's presenee and put their noses down to feel for springing grass. Before they could start and wheel from the friar, the soldier had thrown his hunting-knife. It struck the hind leg of the nearest pony and a scampering and snorting hurricane swept down past the elm. Klussman's stool and the torch-hearer were rolled too-ether. Both lights were stamped out by the panic- struck men, who thought a sally liad been made from the fort. Father Vincent saw the knife thrown, and tiu-ned back, but the man in the trencli seized liim witli steel muscles and dragged him into its Iiollow. If the good father uttered cry against such violence, there was also noise under the elm, and the wounded pony yet gallojied and snorted toward the river. The young sol- dier fastened his moutli shut with a piece of blanket, stripped off his capote and sandals ! ' m 1 i- 210 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. and tied liiin so that lie could not move. Having done all most securely and put the capote and sandals upon himself, the soldier whispered at the friar's ear an apology which must have amused them both, — " Pardon my roughness, good father. Perhaps you will lend me your clothes ? " XVI. THE CAMP. D'Aulnay's sentinels about the walls, understanding that all this confusion was made by a stampede of ponies, kept the silence which had been enjoined on them. But some stir of inquiry seemed to occur in the bastions. Father Vincent, lying help- less in the trench, and feeling the chill of lately opened earth through his shaven head and partly nude body, wondered if he also had met D'Aulnay's gratitude for his recent inquiry into D'Aulnay's fitness to receive the sacraments. " But I will tell my lord of Charnisay the truth about his sins," thought Father Vin- cent, unable to form any words with a pin- ioned mouth, " though he should go the length of procuring my death." W u i >;ri III 212 THE LADY OF FORT .ST. JOHN. m ii I IS', I The soldier with his buckskin covered by Father Vincent's capote stejiped out into the starlight and turned his cowled lace toward the fort. lie intended to tell the sentinels that D'Aulnay had sent him with a message to the commandant of St. John. The guards, discerning his capote, would perhaps obey a beckoning finger, and be- lieve that he had been charged with silence ; for not having heard the churchman's voice he dared not try to imitate it, and must whisper. But that unforeseen element which the wisest cannot rule out of their fate halted him before he took a dozen steps up the hill. "Where is Father Vincent de Paris?" called some impatient person below the trench. Five figures coming from the tree gained disiinctness as they advanced, but it was a new-comer who demanded again, — " Where is Father Vincent de Paris ? Did he not leave the camp with you? " The soldier went down dii-ectly where his gray capote might speak for itself to the TUK CAJir. 2V6 eye, and the miin who carried the stool jmintiMl with it toward the evich'iit friar. '•There stands tlie friar behind theo. lie hath been tumbled into tlio treneh, I think." " Is your affair done ? '' " And well done, except that some cattle ran mad among us but now, and we thought a sally had been made, so we put out our torches." " With your stupid din," said the mes- senger from camp, "you will wake up the guns of the fort at the very moment when Sieur D'Auliiay would send his truce bearer in »^ " I thank the saints I am not like to be used for his agent," said the man who had been upset with the torches, " if the walls arc to be stormed as they were this morn- mg. ' " He wants Father Vincent de Paris," said the under officer from camj). " Good father, you took moio license in coming hither than my lord intended." The soldier made some mui-mured noise m i m i' Ji... ! J • ill ' ifii j 214 Tf/r: lady of fort sr. JOfiy. undor his cowl. lie wiilked l)esi(lo the oflfi- cor and Ijcard ono luaii say to another bc- liind liliii, — " Tlieso lioly folks have more conrago than nien-at-arnis. My lord was minded to throw this one out of the ship when he sailed from l^ort Royal." "The Sienr D'Aulnay hath too much re- spect to his religion to do that," answered the other. " You had best move in silence," said the officer, turning his head toward them, and no further words broki; the march into camp. D'Aulnay's cam}) was well above the reach of high tide, yet so near the river that soft and regular splashings seemed en- croaching on the tents. The soldier noticed the batteries on their height, and counted as ably as he could for the cowl and night dimness the number of tents holdinj; this little army. Far beyond them the palpita- ting waters showed changeful surfaces on Fundy Bay. The capote was long for him. He kept ■ i .' Tin: CA.yfi'. 215 Ills hands within the hIccvos. Before the guard-lino was passed ho saw in tlic niichllo of tho camp an open tent. A lon^j torcli stood in front of it with tho point stuck in the ground. The iloating yellow blazo showed tho tent's interior, its simple fittings for rest, tho magnificent arms and garments of its occupant, and first of all, D'Aulnay do Churnisay himself, sitting with a rudo camp table in front of him. He was half muffled in a furred cloak from the balm of that Easter night. Papers and an ink-horn were on tho table, and two officers stood by, receiving orders. This governor of Acadia had a triangular face with square temples and pointed beard, its crisp fleece also concealing his mouth except the thin edges of his lips. It was a handsome nervous face of black tones ; one that kept counsel, and w^as not without hu- mor. He noticed his subordinate ai)proach- ing with tho friar. The men sent to execute Klussman were dispersed to their tents. " The Swiss hath suffered his punish- ment ? " he inquired. i i 4 K . .. I] ,■> ) : m 21G 77//; LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. " Yes, my lord D'Aulnay. I met the sol- diers returning." *' Did he say anything further concerning the state of the fort ? " " I know not, my lord. But I will call the men to be questioned." " Let it be. He hath probably not lied in what he told me to-day of its weak gar- rison. But help is expected soon with La Tour. Perhaps he told more to the friar in their last conference." " Heretics do not confess, my lord." " True enough ; but these churchmen have inquisitive minds which go into men's af- fairs without confession," said the governor of Acadia with a smile which lengthened slightly the thread-lines of his lips. D'Aul- nay de Charnisay had an eye with a keen blue iris, sorting not at all with the pig- ments of his face. As he cast it on the re- turned friar his mere review deepened to a scrutiny used to detecting concealments. " Hath this Capuchin shrunk ? " exclaimed D'Aulnay. " He is not as tall as he was." V THE CAMP. 217 lied »j All present looked with quickened atten- tion at the soldier, who expected them to pull off his cowl and expose a head of tlirifty clusters which had never known the tonsure. His beaver cap lay in the trench with the real Father Vincent. He folded his arms on his breast with a gesture of patience which had its effect. D'Aulnay's followers knew the warfare be- tween their seignior and Father Vincent de Paris, the only churchman in Acadia who insisted on bringing him to account; and who had found means to supplant a favorite priest on this expedition, for the purpose of watching him. D'Aulnay bore it with assumed good-humor. He had his religious scruples as well as his revenges and ambi- tions. But there were ways in which an intruding churchman could be martyred by irony and covert abuse, and by discomfort chargeable to the circumstances of war. Father Vincent de Paris, on his part, bore such martyrdom silently, but stinted no word of needed re])uke. A woman's mourn- b! I ): ■ *l 218 Tilt: LADY OF FORT .ST. JOHN. ing ill the dusky tent next to D'Aulnay's now rose to sucli wildness of piteous cries as to divert even him from the shrinkage of Father Vincent's height. No other voice could be lieard, comforting her. She was alone with sorrow in the midst of an army of fray-hardened men. A look of embar- rassment passed over De Charnisay's face, and he said to the officer nearest him, — " Remove that woman to another part of the camp." " The Swiss's wife, my lord ? " "The Swiss's widow, to speak exactly." lie turned again with a frowning smile to the silent Capuchin. " By the proofs she gives, my kindness hath not been so great to that woman that the church need upbraid 5> me. Marguerite came out of the tent at a peremptory word given by the officer at its opening. She did not look toward D'Aul- nay de Charnisay, the power who had made her his foolish agent to the destruction of the man who loved her. Muffling her heart- Tin: CAMP, 219 broken cries she followed the subaltern away into darkness — she who had meant at all costs to be mistress of Penobscot. M'hen distance somewhat relieved their ears, D'Aulnay took up a pa])er lying before him on the table and spoke in some haste to the friar. " You will go with escort to the walls of the fort, Father Vincent, and demand to speak with Madame La Tour. She hath, it appears, little aversion to being- seen on the walls. Give into her hand this paper." ^ The soldier under the cowl, dreading that his unbroken silence might be noted against him, made some muttering remonstrance, at which D'Aulnay laughed while tying the packet. " When churchmen go to war, Father Vincent, they must expect to share its risks, at least in offices of mediation. Look you : they tell me the Jesuits and missionaries of Quebec and Montreal are ever before the soldier in the march upon this New World. But Capuchins are a lazy, selfish order. !! '.r if -i:\ I It; T 220 T/JE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. They would lie at their ease in a monastery, exerting themselves only to spy upon their neighbors." He held out the packet. The soldier in the capote had to step forward to receive it, and D'Aulnay's eye fell upon the sandal advanced near the torch. " Come, this is not our Capuchin," he ex- claimed grimly. " This man hath a foot whiter than my own ! " The feeling that he was detected gave the soldier desperate boldness and scorn of all further caution. He stood erect and lifted his face. Though the folds of the cowl fell around it, the governor caught his contemp- tuous eye. " Wash thy heart as I have washed my feet, and it also will be white, D'Aulnay de Charnisay! " " There spoke the Capuchin," said D'Aul- nay with a nod. His close face allowed it- self some pleasure in baiting a friar, and if he had suspected Father Vincent of changed identity, his own men were not sure of his suspicion the next instant. Tin: CAMP. 221 "Our friar hath washed his feet," he observed insolently, pointing out the evi- dent fact. " Such penance and ablution he hath never before put upon himself since he came to Acadia ! I will set it down in my dispatches to the king, for his majesty will take pleasure in such news: — 'Father Vincent de Paris, on this blessed Paques day of the year 1645, hath washed his feet.' " The men laughed in a half ashamed way which apologized to the holy man while it deferred to the master, and D'Aulnay dis- missed his envoy with seriousness. The two officers who had taken his orders lighted an- other torch at the blaze in front of the tent, and led away the willing friar. D'Aulnay watched them down the avenue of lodges, and when their figures entered blurred space, watched the moving star which in- dicated their progress. The officer who had brought Father Vincent to this conference, also stood musing after them with unlaid suspicion. " Close my tent," said D'Aulnay, rising, "and set the table within." ft I i ! •■ ' m Mi li 11 ii 222 Tllf: LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. " My lord/' spoke out the subordinate, "I did not tell you tlie men were thrown into confusion around the Swiss." " Well, monsieur ? '■ responded D'Aulnay curtly, with an attentive eye. " There was a stampede of the cattle loosened from the stable. Father Vincent fell into the empty trench. They doubtless iost sight of him until he came out again." " Therefore, monsieur ? " *'il roemed tome as your lordship said, that this man scarce had the bearing of a friar, until, indeed, he spoke out in denun- ciation, and then his voice sounded a deeper tone than I ever heard in it before." " Why did you not tell me this di- rectly?" *' My lord, I had not thought it until he showed such readiness to move toward yon fort." " Did you examine the trench ? " " No, my lord. I hurried the friar liither at your command." " It was the part of a prudent soldier," >> )5 THE CAMP. 223 sneered his master, " to leave a dark trench possibly full of La Tour's recruits, and trot a friar into camp." "But the sentinels are there, monsieur, and they gave no alarm." " The sentinels are like you. They will think of giving an alarm to-morrow sun- rise, when the fort is strengthened by a new garrison. Take a company of men, sur- round that trench, double the guards, send me back that friar, and do all with such haste as I have never seen thee show in my service yet." " Yes, my lord." While tlie officer ran among the tents, D'Aulnay walked back and forth outside, nervously impatient to have his men gone. He whispered with a laugh in his beard, "Charles do Menou, D'Aulnay de Char- nisay, are you to be twice beaten by a woman ? If La Tour hath come back with help and entered the fort, the siege may as well be raised to-morrow." The cowled soldier taxed his escort in i 224 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. the speed lie made across that dark country separating camp and fortress. " Go softly, good father," remonstrated one of the officers, stumbling among stones. " The Sieur D'Aulnay meant not that we should break our necks at this business." But he led them with no abatement and a stern and offended mien ; wondering se- cretly if the real Father Vincent would by this time be able to make some noise in the trench. Unaccountable night sounds startled the ear. He turned to the fortress ascent while the trench yet lay distant. " There is an easier way, father," urged one of the men, obliged, however, to follow him and bend to the task of climbing. The discomfort of treading stony soil in sandals, and the sensibility of his uncovered shins to even that soft night air, made him smile under the cowl. A sentinel challenged them and was answered by his companions. Pass- ing on, they reached the wall near the gate. Here the hill sloped less abruptly than at the towered corner. The rocky foundation ] ri1; mf TlIK CAMP. 225 of Fort St. John made u moat impossible. Guards on the wall now challenged them, and the muzzles of three guns looked down, distinct eyes in the lifted torchlight, but at the sign of truce these were withdrawn. " The Sieur D'A ulnay de Charnisay sends this friar with dispatches to the lady of the fort," said one of the officers. "Call your lady to receive them into her own hand. These are our orders." " And put down a ladder," said the other officer, " that he may ascend with them." *' We put down no ladders," answered the man leaning over the wall. " We will call our lady, but you must yourselves find an arm long enough to lift your dispatches to her." During this parley, the rush of men com- ing from the camp began to be heard. The guards on the wall listened, and two of them promptly trained the cannon in that direc- tion. *' You have come to surprise us again," taunted the tliird guard, leaning over the wall ; " but the Swiss is not here now ! " : t'l i A 226 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. ■9%r. f m- The soldier saw his escape was cut off, and desi)ei'ately casting back his monk's hood, he shouted upwards, — " La Tour ! La Tour ! Put down the ladder — it is Edelwald ! " !l 1 XVII. AN ACADIAN PASSOVER. At that name, clown came a ladder as if shot from a catapult. Edohvald sprung up the rounds and both of D'Aulnay's officers seized him. He had drawn one of his long pistols and he clubbed it on their heads so that they staggered back. The sentinels and advancing men fired on him, but by some muscular flash he was flat upon the top of the wall, and the cannon sprung with a roar at his enemies. They were directly in its track, and they took to the trench. Edelwald, dragging the ladder up after him, laughed at the state in which they must find Father Vincent. The entire gar- rison rushed to the walls, and D'Aulnay's camp stirred with the rolling of drums. Then there was a pause, and each party ■.{ I f H \L. W p.! 11 1^ ' I II pi' ..'■•' 228 r/z/v /..i/)r 0/' ronr sr. jo/lv. wiiited fiu'ther aggiession from the other. The fort's gun hsid spoken hut onee. Per- liai)S some intelligenee passed from tren' ' to camp. Presently the unsuecessful coiu- pany ventured from their hreastwork and moved away, and both sides again had rest for the niglit. Madame La Tour stood in the fort, watch- ing the action of her garrison outlined against the sky. She could no longer as- cend the wall by her private stairs. Cannon shot had torn down her chimney and pilr its rock in a barricade against the dooi. Sentinels were changed, and the relieved sol- diers descended from the wall and returned to that great room of the tower which had been turned into a common camp. It seemed under strange enchantment. There was a hole beside the portrait of Claude La Tour, and through its tunnel starlight could be seen and the night air breathed in. The carved buffet was shattered. The usual log, however, burned in cheer, and families had reunited in distinct nests. A pavilion m ^A" ACADIAN rASSOrj'.Ii. er- of tapestry was set up for Lady Doriiula and all lior treasures, near the stairs: the southern window of her chamber had been made a target. Le Rossignol sat on a table, with the four expeetant children still dancing in front of her. Was it not IViques evening? The alarm being over she again began her mer- riest tunes. Irregular life in a besieged fortress had its fascination for the children. No bedtime laws coind be enforced where the entire household stirred. But to Shu- benacadie such turmoil was scandalous, lie also lived in the /lall during the day, and as late at night as his mistress chose, but he lived a retired life, squatted in a corner, hissing at all who passed near him. Per- haps he pined for water whereon to spread his wings and sail. Sometimes he quavered a plaintive remark on society as he found it, and sometimes he stretched up his neck to its longest length, a sinuous white serpent, and gazed wrathfully at the i)ancled ceiling. The firelight revealed him at this moment a 230 THE LADY OF FORT HT. JOHN. f'i r : ':m ' bundle of glistening satin, wrapped in sleep and his wings from the alarms of war. Marie stood at the hearth to receive Edelwald. lie came striding from among her soldiers, his head showing like a Ro- man's above the cowl. It was dark-eyed, vshapely of feature, and with a mouth and inward curve above the chin so beautiful that their chiseled strength was always a surprise. As he faced the lady of the for- tress he stood no taP' " than she did, but his contour was muscular. After dropping on his knee to kiss her hand, he stood up to bear the search of her eyes. They swept down his friar's dress and found it not so strange that it should supplant her immediate inquiry, — " Your news ? My lord is well ? " " Yes, my lady." " Is he without ? '' " My lady, he is at the outpost at the head of Fundy Bay." Her face whitened terribly. She knew what this meant. La Tour could get no m ■ til AN ACADIAN PASSOVER. 231 helj). Nicholas Denys denied Lim men. There was no hope of rescue for Fort St. John. He was w^aiting in the outpost for his ship to bring him home -— the home be- sieged by D'Aulnay. The blood returned to her face with a rush, her mouth quivered, and she sobbed two or three times without tears. La Tour could have taken her in his arms. But Edelwald folded his empty arms across his breast. " My lady, I would rather be shot than bring you this message." "Klussman betrayed us, Edelwald! and I know I hurt men, hurt them with ray own hands, striking and shooting on the wall ! " She threw herself against the settle and shook with weeping. It was the revolt of 'womanhood. The soldier hung his head. It relieved him to declare savagely, — "Klussman hath his pay. D'Aulnay's followers have just hanged him beh)w the fort." " Hanged him ! Ilangod poor Klussman ? Edelwald, I cannot have Klussman — hanged ! " t 1^1 1 p lit i^ 232 TlfE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. Le Rossignol had stopped her mandolin, and the children clustered near Edelwald waiting for his notice. One of them now ran with the news to her. " Klussman is hanged," she relocated, changing her position on the table and laying the mandolin down. " Faith, we are never satisfied with our good. I am in a rage now because they hanged not the woman in his stead." Marie wiped off her tears. The black rings of sleeplessness around her eyes em- phasized her loss of color, but she was beau- tiful. "How foolish doth weailness make a woman! I expected no help from Dcnys — yet rested my last hope on it. You must eat, Edelwald. By your dress and the alarm raised you have come into the fort through danger and effort." *' My lady, if you will permit me first to go to my room, I will find something which sorts better with a soldier than this church- man's gown. My buckskin T was obliged to mutilate to make me a proper friar." li I JX ACAD r AX PASSOVER. 233 "Go, assuredly. But I know not wliat rubbish the cannon of D'Auhiay have bat- tered down in your room. The monk's frock will scarce feel lonesome in that part of our tower now : we have had two Jesuits to lodge there since you left." "Did they carry away Madame Bronck? I do not see her among your women." "She is fortunate, Edelwald. A man loved her, and traveled hither from the Orange settlement. They were wed five days ago, and set out with the Jesuits to Montreal." Marie did not lift her heavy eyelids while she^spoke, and anguish passed unseen across Edelwald 's face. Whoever was loved and fortunate, he stood outside of such experi- ence. He was young, bt^t there was to be no wooing for him in the world, however long war might spare him. The women of the fort waited with their children for his notice. His stirring to turn toward tLiem rustled a paper under his capote. " My lady," he said pausing, " D'Aulnay ;h ;^i 234 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. had me in his camp and gave me dispatches to you." " You were there in this friar's dress ? " Marie looked sincerely the pride she took in his simple courage. " Yes, my lady, though much against my will. I was obliged to knock down a rev- erend shaveling and strip him. But the gown hath served fairly for the trouble." " Hath D'Aulnay many men ? " " lie is well equipped." Edelwald took the packet from his belt and gave it to her. Marie broke the thread and sat down on the settle, spreading D'Aul- nay's paper to the fireliglit. She read it in silence, and handed it to Edelwald. He leaned toward the fire and read it also. D'Aulnay de Charnisay demanded the surrender of Fort St. John with all its stores, ammunition, moneys and plate, and its present small garrison. When Edelwald looked up, Marie extended her hand for the dispatch and threw it into the fire. " Let that be his answer," said Edelwald. ' » AN ACADIAN PASSOVER. 235 " If we surrender," spoke the lady of the fort, *' we will make our own terms." " My lady, you will not surrender." As she looked at Edelwald, the comfort of having him there softened the resolute lines of her face into childlike curves. Be- ing about the same age she felt always a youthful comradeship with him. Her eyes again filled. *' Edelwald, we have lost ten men." *'D'Aulnay has doubtless lost ten or twenty times as many." " What are men to him ? Cattle, which he can buy. But to us they are priceless. To say nothing of your rank, Edelwald, you alone are worth more than all the armies D'Aulnay can muster." He sheltered his face with one Land as if the fire scorched him. " My lady, Sieur Charles would have us hold this place. Consider: it is his last fortress except that stockade." " You mistake him, Edelwald. He would save the garrison and let the fort go. If M ; r I II 1 ' !■■; I fi- ll:: li 236 TUE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. he or you had not come to-night I must have died of my troubles." She conquered some sobbing, and asked, " How does he bear this despair, Edelwakl ? for he knew it must come to this without help." " He was heartsick with anxiety to re- turn, my lady." She leaned against the back of the settle. " Do not say things to induce me to sacri- fice his men for his fort." " Do you think, my lady, that D'Aulnay would spare the garrison if he gets posses- sion of this fort ? " " On no other condition will he get the fort. He shall let all my brave men go out with the honors of war." " But if he accepts such terms — will he keej) them ? " " Is not any man obliged to keep a writ- ten ti'eaty ? " " Kings are scarce obliged to do that." " I see what you would do," said Marie, "and I tell you it is useless. You would if B!ii AN ACAD/A.\ rASSOVEli. 237 m frighten me with D'Auhiay into allowing you, our only officer, and these men, our only soldiers, to ransom this fort with your lives. It comes to that. "We might hold out a few more days and end by being at his mercy." " Let the men themselves be spoken to," entreated Edelwald. "They will all, like you, beg to give themselves to the holding of Charles La Tour's property, I have balanced these matters night and day. We must surren- der, Edelwald. We must surrender to- morrow." " My lady, I am one more man. And I will now take charge of the defense." " And what could I say to my lord if you were killed ? — you, the friend of his house, the soldier who lately came with such hopes to Acadia. Our fortunes do you harm enough, Edelwald. I could never face my lord again without you and his men." *' Sieur Charles loves me well enoucrh to trust me with his most dangerous affairs. !-■ hi m i h '' l< 1 i: H ■. ,. 238 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. my lady. The keeping of this fortress shall be one of them." " O Edelwald, go away from me now ! " she cried out piteously. He dropped his head and turned on the instant. The women met him and the children hung to him ; and that little being who was neither woman nor child so resented the noise which tliey made about him as he approached her table that she took her mandolin and swept them out of her way. " IIow fares Shubenacadie ? " he inquired over the claw she presented to him. " Shubenacadie's feathers are curdled. He hath greatly soured. Confess me and give me thy benediction, Father Edelwald, for I have sinned." " Not since I took these orders, I hope," said Edelwald. " As a Capuchin I am only an hour old." "Within the hour, then, I have beaten my swan, bred a quarrel amongst these spawn of the common soldier, and wished a woman hanged." 9> ^A' ACADIAN- rASSOVEIi. '' A naughty list," said Edelwakl. 239 " Yes, but lying is worse than any of these. Lying doth make the soul sick." " How do you know that ? " "I have tried it," said Le Kossignol. " Many a time have I tried it. Scarce half an hour ago I told her forlorn old highness that the fort was surely taken this time, and I think she hath buried herself in her chest." " Edelwakl," said a voice from the tapes- tried pavilion. Lady Dorinda's head and hand appeared, with the curtains drawn be- hind them. As the soldier bent to his service upon the hand of the old maid of honor, she ex- claimed whimsically, — " What, Edelwakl ! Are our fortunes at such ebb that you are taking to a Eomish cloister?" " No cloister for me. Your ladyship sees only a cover which I think of renderino- to its owner again. He may not have a sec- ond capote in the world, being friar extraor- i m I 1 1! m J- J': 240 '/'//A" 7..1/)r C>F FOIiT ST. JOHN. dinary to D'Aulnay dc Chavnisay, who is notable for seizing other men's goods." " Edelwahl, you bring ill news ? " " There was none other to bring." " Is Charles La Tour then in such straits that we are to have no relief in this for- tress ? " " We can look for nothing, Lady Do- rinda." " Thou seest now, Edelwald, how France requites his service. If he had listened to his father he might to-day be second to none in Acadia, with men and wealth in abun- dance." *' Yet, your ladyship, we love our France ! " *' Oh, you 'do put me out of patience ! But the discomforts and perils of this siege have scarce left me any. We are walled together here like sheep." "It is trying, your ladyship, but if we succeed in keeping the butcher out we may do better presently." Marie sent her woman for writing tools, AN ACM) I AS VAUSUVEH. 241 and was busy with them when Edelwahl rc- turncil in his ordinary rich dark dress. She made liim a phicc beside her on tlie settle, and submitted the paper to liis eye. The women and chiklren listened. They knew their situation was desperate. Whispering together they decided with their lady that she would do best to save her soldiers and sacrihee the fort. Edelwald read the terms she intended to demand, and then looked aside at the beau- tiful and tender woman who had borne the hardships of war. She should do anything she wished. It was worth while to surren- der if surrendering decreased her care. All Acadia was nothing when weighed against her peace of mind. He felt his vagc mount- ing against Charles La Tour for leaving her exposed in this frontier post, the instrument of her lord's ambition and political feud. In EdelwakVs silent and ungucssed warfare with his secret, ho had this one small half hour's truce. Marie sat under his eyes in the firelight, depending on the comfort of si Id;.. 15^ SI . 1 l!: 242 77//; A.i/>r <'>/•• /''c'A'y ^r. jojin. liis presence. Kiipture opened its sensitive flower and life cnlniinated for liini. Uncon- seious of it, she wrote down his sn<^gestions, bending her head seriously to tlie task. Edelwakl himself finally made a draft of the paper for D'Aulnay. The weary men had thrown themselves down to sleep, and heard no colloquy. But presently the cook was aroused from among them and bid to set out such a feast as he had never before made in Fort St. John. " Use of our best supplies," directed Marie. "• To-morrow we may give up all we have remaining to the enemy. We will eat a great sujiper together this Paques night." The cook took an assistant and labored well. Kettles and pans multiplied on coals raked out for their service. Marie had the men bring such doors as remained from the barracks and lay them from table to ^ making one long board for he^ and this the women dressed the linen of the house. They set on plate hieh st i ^m A X A CA I) I A X I'A SS U \ ' /; A*. 243 liad been in L:i Tom's family for ci^enera- tions. Kveiy aeeiiniulation of prosju'iity was bronglit out for this final use. The tunnel in the wall was stopped with blankets, and wax candles were lighted everywhere. Odors of festivity lilh'd the children with eagerness. It was like the new year when there was always merry-making in the hall, yet it was also like a religious ceremony. The men rose from their i)allets and set aside screens, and the news was spread when sentinels were changed. Marie called Zelie up to her ruined apart- ment, and standing amidst stone and j)laster, was dressed in her most magnificent gown and jewels. She appeared on the stairs in the royal blackness of velvet whitened by laces and sparkling with points of tinted fire. Edelwald led her to the head of the long board, and she directed her people to range themselves down its length in the or- der of their families. "My men," said Madame La Tour to each party in turn as they were relieved on it--.". p'' '■■■ 5 ■, I' Mi' I m ail. i ill I 244 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOfLV. the walls to sit down at the table below her, " we are holding; a passover supper this Pilques night because it may be our last night in Fort St. John. You all understand how Sieur de la Tour hath fared. We are reduced to the lasb straits. Yet not to the last straits, my men, if we can keep you. With such followers your lord can make some stand elsewhere. D'Aulnay has pro- posed a surrender. I refused his terms, and have set down others, which will sacrifice the fort but save the garrison. Edelwald, our only officer, is against surrender, be- cause he, like youroclves, would give the greater for the ^3ss, which 1 cannot allow." *' My lady," spoke Glaud Burge, a sturdy grizzled man, rising to speak for the first squad, " we have been talking of this mat- ter together, and we think Edelwald is right. The fort is hard beset, and it is true there are fewer of us than at first, but wc may hold out somehow and keep the walls around us. We have no stomach to strike flag to D'Aulnay de Charnisay. ' II AN ACADIAN PASSOVER. 245 "My lady," spoke Jean le Prince, the youngest man in the fortress, who was ap- pointed to speak for tlie second squad when their turn came to sit down at the table, " we also think Edelwald is right in counsel- ing you not to give up Fort St. John. AVe say nothing of D'Aulnay's hanging Kluss- man, for Klussman deserved it. But we would rather be shot down man by man than go out by the grace of D'Aulnay." She answered both squads, — " Do not argue against surrender, my men. We can look for no help. The fort must go in a few more days anyhow, and by capitulating we can make terms. ^My lord can build other forts, but where w^ill he find other followers like you ? You wdll march out not by the grace of D'Aulnay but with the honors of wiiv. Xow speak of it no more, and let us make this a festival." So they made it a festival. AVith guards coming and going constantly, every man took the pleasure of the hall while the walls were kept. 246 THE LADY OF FORT ST. J OILY. m tilt • : kil i u I 1 t ill I iff' I * Such a night was never before celebrated in Fort St. tTohn. A heavier race might have touched the sadness underlying such gayety ; or have fathomed moonlight to that terrible burden of the elm-tree down the slope. But this French garrison lent them- selves heartily to the hour, enjoying without past or future. Stories were told of the New World and of France, tales of perse- cuted Huguenots, legends which their fathers had handed down to them, and tra- ditions picked up among the Indians. Edel- wald took the dwarf's mandolin and stood up among them singing the songs they loved, the high and courageous songs, lov- ing songs, and songs of faith. Lady Do- rinda, having shut her curtain for the night, declined to take any part in this household festivity, though she contributed some un- heard sighs and groans of aiuioyance during its progress. A phlegmatic woman, fond of her ease, could hardly keep her tranquillity, besieged by cannon in the daytime, and by chattering and laughter, the cracking of 111. ;■! ■ li ^1^ ACADIAN PASSOVER. 247 nuts and the thump of soldiers' feet half the night. But Shubenaeadie came out of his corner and lifted his wings for battle. Le Kossi- gnol first soothed him and then betrayed him into shoes of birch bark which slie carried in her pocket for the purpose of making Shubenaeadie dance. Shubenaeadie began to dance in a wild untutored trot most laughable to see. He varied his pad- dling on the flags by sallies with bill and wings against the dear mistress who made him a spectacle ; and finally at Marie's word he was relieved, and waddled back to his corner to eat and doze and mutter swan talk against such orgies in Fort St. John. The children had long fallen asleep with rap- turous fatigue, when Marie stood up and made her people follow her in a prayer. The waxlights were then put out, screens divided the camp, and quiet followed. Of all niglits in Le Rossignol's life this one seemed least likely to be chosen as her occasion for a flight. The walls were strictly m- . n 248 TI/E LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. guarded, and at midnight the moon spread its ghostly day over all visible earth. Be- sides, if the fortress was to be surrendered, there was immediate prospect of a voyage for all the household. The dwarf's world was near the ground, to which the thinking of the tall men and women around her scarcely stooped. But she seized on and weighed and tried their thoughts, arriving at shrewd issues. No- body had asked her advice about the capitu- lation. Without asking anybody's advice she decided that the Ilollandais Van Corlaer and the Jesuit priest Father Jogues would be wholesome checks upon D'Aulnay de Charnisay when her lady opened the fort to him. The weather must have prevented Van Corlaer from getting beyond the sound of cannon, and neither he nor the priest could indifferently leave the lady of St. John to her fate, and Madame Antonia would rci'.se to do it. Le Rossignol be- lieved the party that had set out early in the week nnist be encamped not far away. il i!i w AN ACADIAN PASSOVER. 24i> Edelwald mounted a bastion with the sen- tinels. That weird light of the moon which seems the faded and forgotten ghost of day, rested everywhere. The shadow of the tower fell inward, and also partly covered the front wall. This enchanted land of night cooled Edelwald. lie threw his arms upward with a passionate gesture to which the soldiers had become accustomed in their experience of the young chevalier. " What is that ? " exclaimed the man nearest him, for there was disturbance in the opposite bastion. Edelwald moved at once across the interval of wall and found the sentinels in that bastion divided between laughter and superstitious awe. " She 's out again," said one. " Who is out? " demanded Edelwald. " The little swan-riding witch." "You have not let the dwarf scale this wall ? If she could do that unobserved, my men, we are lax." " She is one who will neither be let nor hindered. We are scarce sure we even saw her. There was but tho swoop of wings." w I !>:; 1^" 11 :? I !l ^:il; 250 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. " Why, Renot, my lad," insisted Edel- wald, " we could see her white swan now in this noon of moonlight, if she were abroad. Besides, D'Aulnay has sentinels stationed around this height. They will check her." " They will check the wind across Fundy Bay first," said the other man. "You cannot think Le liossignol has risen in the air on her swan's back ? That is too absurd," said Edelwald. " No one ever saw her play such pranks. And you could have winged the heavy bird as he rose. jj " I know she is out of Fort St. John at this minute," insisted Renot Babinet. " And how are you to wing a bird which gets out of sight before you know what has hap- pened ? " " I say it is no wonder we have trouble in this seigniory," growled the other man. " Our lady never could see a mongrel baby or a witch dwarf or a stray black gown any- where, but she must have it into the fort and make it free of the best here." I ^.V ACADIAN PASSOVER. 251 " And God forever bless lier," said Edel- wald, baring Iiis head. " Amen," they both responded with force The silent cry was mighty behind Edel- wald's lips ; — the cry which he intrusted not even to his human breath — " My love — my love ! My royal lady ! God, thou who alone knowest my secret, make me a giant to hold it down ! " out I'll li. m $ 1 i i m i if* ' ■ i 1 ' '3S fi' r-: XVIII. THE SONG OF EDELWALD. At daybreak a signal on the wall where it could be seen from D'Aulnay's camp brought an officer and his men to receive Madame La Tour's dispatches. Glaud Burge handed them down at the end of a ramrod. " But see yonder," he said to Franc^ois Bastarack his companion, as they stood and watched the messengers tramp away. He pointed to Klussman below the fort — poor Klussman whom the pearly vapors of morn- ing could not conceal. " I could have done that mvself in first heat, but I like not treating with a man who did it coolly." Parleying and demurring over the terms of surrender continued until noon. All that time ax, saw and hammer worked in. .. ,y tl Tin: suxa of kdedvald. 253 D'Aulnay's camp as if he had suddenly taken to slilp-building. But the pastimes of a victorious force are regarded with dull attention by the vanquished. Finally the paj^ers were handed uj) bearing D'Aulnay's signature. They guaranteed to jMadame La Tour the safety of her garrison, who were to march out with their arms and per- sonal belongings, the household goods of her people ; and La Tour's ship with pro- visions enough to stock it for a voyage. The money, merchandise, stores, jewels and ord- nance fell to D'Aulnay with the fort. D'Aulnay marched directly on his con- quest. His drums a2)proached, and the gar- rison ran to throw into a heap such things as they and their families were to take away. Spotless weather and a dimpled bay adorned this lost seigniory. It was better than any dukedom in France to these first exiled Acadians. Pierre Doucett's widow and another bereaved woman knelt to cry once more over the trench by the powder- house. Her baby, hid in a case like a bol- Ml in 'V, M M I 254 TUi: LADY OF FORT ST. JOIIX. ster, hung iicross lier shoulder. Lady Do- rindii's helongings, uunibcred amoug the goods of the household, were also placed near the gate. She sat within the hall, wrapped for her journey, composed and si- lent. For when the evil day actually over- took Lady Doriuda, she was too thorough a Briton to cringe. She met her second repulse from Acadia as she had met her first, when Claude La Tour found her his only consolation. In this violent uprooting of family life so long grown to one place, Lo Rossignol was scarcely missed. Each one thought of the person dearest to himself and of that person's comfort. JMarie noted her absence, but the dwarf never came to harm. She was certain to rejoin the house- hold somewhere, and who could blame her for avoiding the capitulation if she found it possible? The little Nightingale could not endure pain. Edelwald drew the garrison up in line and the gates were opened. D'Aulnay entered the fort with his small army. He was splendidly dressed, and such m his THE SONG OF EDEL WALD. 255 pieces of armor as he wore (hazzled tho eye. As he returned the salute of Kdelvvald and the garrison, lie paused and whitened with chagrin. Klussman had told him something of the weakness of the idace, but he had no^t expected to find such a pitiful remnant of men. Twenty-three soldiers and an officer! These were the precious creatures who had cost him so much, and whom their lady was so anxious to save! He smiled at the dis- proportionate preparations made by his ham- mers and saws, and glanced back to see if the timbers were being carried in. They were, at the rear of his force, but behind them intruded Father Vincent do Paris wrapped in a blanket which one of the sol- diers had provided for him. The scantiness of this good friar's apparel should have re- strained him in camp. But he was such an apostle as stalks naked to duty if need be, and he felt it his present duty to keep the check of religion upon the implacable na- ture of D'Aulnay de Cliarni.say. D'Aulnay ordered the gates shut. lie i |)l ! ' If }•:,! il I 25G /'///: /-.i/>}' '>/' ronr sr. .ions. would have shut out Fiithor Viuceut, ])ut it couhl not he managed without great dis- courtesy, and there are limits to that with a churchman. The household and garrison ready to dei)art saw this strange action with dismay, and Marie stepped directly down from her hall to confront her enemy. D'Aul- nay had seen her at l*ort Koyal when he first came to Acadia. He remembered her motion in the dance., and approved of it. She was a beautiful woman, though her Huguenot gown and close cap now gave her a widowed look — becoming to a woman of exploits. But she was also the woman to whom he owed one defeat and much humil- iation. He swept his plume at her feet. " Permit me, Madame La Tour, to make my compliments to an amazon. My own taste are women who stay in the house at their prayers, but the Sieur de la Tour and I differ in many things." " Doubtless, my lord De Charnisay," re- sponded Marie with the dignity which can- THE .sox(; OF i.diilwald. 2'ol not taunt, tliou;;li she still bclii^votl the out- cast child to ho his. *' I hit why have you closed on us the gates which wo 02)ened to you ? " "^ladame, I liavo heen deceived in the terms of capitulation." *' My lord, the terms of capitulation were set down plainly and I hold them signed hy your hand." *' But a signature is nothing when gross advantage hath heen taken of one of the parties to a treaty." The mistake she had made in trusting to the military honor of D'Aulnay de Cliar- nisay swept through Marie. But she con- trolled her voice to incpiire, — *' What gross advantage can there he, my lord D'Aulnay — unless you are about to take a gross advantage of us ? AVe leave you here ten thousand pounds of the money of England, our plate and jewels and furs, and our stores except a little food for a journey. AVe go out poor ; yet if our treaty is kept we shall complain of no gross ad- vantage." r I!!.. liS'^^i f i'; .< ;■! .. i 11 .i Ml 258 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. '' Look at tliose luc'ii,"' said D'Aulnay, bliaking liIs glove at li(ir soldiers. " Those weary and faithful men," said Marie : " I sec them." " You will see them hanged as traitors, madanie. I have no time to parley," ex- claimed D'Aulnay. " Tlie terms of ca])itnla- tion are not satisfactory to me. I do not feel hound by them. You may take your women and withdi'aw when you please, but tiiese men I shall ];an":." AVliile he spoke he lifted and shook his hand as if giving a signal, and the garrison was that instant seized by his soldiers. Her women screamed. There was such a strug- gle in the fort as there had been upon the wall, except that she herself stood blank in mind, and i)ulseless. The actual and the unreal shimmered together. I5ut there .^ood her gai'rison, from Edelwald to Jean le Prince, bound like criminals, regarding their captors with that baffled and half ashamed look of the sur])rised and overpowered. Above the mass of O'Aulnay's busy soldiery F f I i,f: Tin: 80X0 OF edklwald. 259 timber iii)rights were reared, and liamniers and spikes set to work on the likeness of a scaffold. The preparations of the nioniinrr- made the completion of tliis task swift and easy. D'Aulnay de Charnisa - intended to hang her nranison wlien lie set his name to the paper seenring their lives. The rinoiiur of hammers sounded far off to Marie. "I don't understand these thin«rs," she articulated. " 1 don't understand anything in the world ! " D' Anlnay gave himself up to watehiiig the process, in spite of Father Vincent de Paris, whose steady remonstrances he answered only by shrugs. In tliat age of religious slaughter the Capuchin co;ild scarcely ob- ject to decreasing heretics, but he did ob- ject as a man and a priest to such barbarous treachery toward men with whom a comj)act had been mad . The refined nurture of France was not recent in D'Aulnay's expe- rience, but he came of a great and honor- able house, and the friar's appeal was made to inherited instincts. V; ilHj j5^ 'Ir m Pi ^ 260 r///: /./iz)r of fort st. joilv. " Good churchman," spoke out Jean le Prince, the lad, shaking his hair back from his face, " your capote and sandals lie there by the door of the tower, wliere Edelwald took thought to place them for you. But you "who have the soldier's heart should wear the soldier's dress, and hide D'Aulnay de Charnisay under the cowl." " You men-at-arms," Glaud Burge ex- horted the guards drawn up on each side of him and his fellow-Drisoners, " will you hang us up like dogs ? If we mii:5t die we claim the death of soldiers. You have your pieces in your hands ; .shoot us. Do us such grace as we would do you in like extremity." The guards looked aside at each other and then at their master, shamed through their peasant blood by the outrage they were obliged to put upon a courageous garrison. But Kdelwald said nothing. His eyes were upon Marie. lie would not increase her anguish of self-reproach by the change of a nuiscle in his face. The garrison was trapped and at the mercy of a merciless ^r THE SONG OF EDELWALI). 261 enemy. His most passionate desire was to have lier taken away that she might not witness tlie exeeutlon. Wliy was Sieur Charles La Tom' sitting in the stockade at the head of Fnndy Bay wliile she must en- dure the sight of this scaifohl ? Marie's women knelt around her cryino*. Her slow distracted gaze traveled from Glaud Burge to Jean le Prince, from Renot Babinct to Francois Bastarack, from Am- broise Tibedeaux along the line of stanch faces to Edelwald. His calm uplifted coun- tenance — with the horrible platform of death growing behind it — looked as it did when he hai)pily met the sea wind or went singing through trackless wilderness. She broke from her trance and the ring of women, and ran before D'Aulnay de Char- nisay. " My lord," said Marie — - and she was so beautiful in her ivory pallor, so wonderful with fire moving from the deep places of her dilated black eyes that he felt satisfaction in attending to her — '^it is useless to talk to a man like you."' f'M Mi lii ■ I ■ ' 2G2 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. " Quite, madamo," said D'Aiilnay. " I never discuss affairs with a woman." " But you may discuss them with the king when lie learns tliat you have hanged with other soldiers of a ransomed garrison a young officer of the house of De Born." D'Aulnay ran his eye along the line. The unrest of Edelwald at Marie's slightest parley with D'Aulnay reminded the keen governor of the face he had last night seen under the cowl. " The king will he obliged to me," he observed, " when one less heretical De Born cumbers his realm." " The only plea I make to you, my lord D'Aulnay, is that you hang me also. For I deserve it. My men had no faith in your military honor, and I had." *' ]Madame, you remiiui nic of a fact I de- sired to overlook. You are indeed a traitor deserviug death. But of my clemency, and noi/ because you are a woman, for you your- self have forjrotten that in meddlinfi: with war, I will only parade you upon the scaf- I, -M It THE SONG OF EDELWALT). 2G3 (( the fold as a reprieved criminal. Bring hither a cord,*' called D'Aulnay, "and noose it over this lady's head. " Edelwald raged in a hopeless tearing at his bonds. The gnards seized him, bnt he struggled with nncon- qnered strength to reach and protect his lady. Father Vincent de Paris had taken his capote and sandals at Jean le Prince's hint, and entered the tower. lie clothed himself behind one of the screens of the hall, and thought his absence short, but dur- ing that time Marie was put ui)on the fin- ished scaffold. A skulking reluctant soldier of D'Anlnay's led her by a cord. She walked the long rough planks erect. Her garrison to a man looked down, as they did at funerals, and Edelwald sobbed in his fight against the guards, the tears starting from under his eyelids as he heard her foot- fall pass near him. Back and forth she trod, and D'Aulnay watched the spectacle. Her garrison felt her degradation as she must feel tlieir death. The grizzled lip of Glaud Burge moved first to comfort her. ? m^ I I-' ' ir ;i u W"' . ii ' 264 THE LADY 01'' FORT ST. JOHN. " My lady, thougli our liands be tied, we make our military salute to you," he said. "Fret not, my lady," said lienot Babi- net. " Edelwald can turn all these mishaps into a song, my lady," declared Jean le Prince. Marie had that sensation of lost identity which has confused us all. In her walk she passed the loops dangling ready for her men. A bird, poised for one instant on the turret, uttered a sweet long trill. She could hear the river. It was incredible that all those unknown faces should be swarming below her ; that the garrison was obliged to stand tied ; that Lady Dorinda had braved the rabble of soldiery and come out to wait weeping at the scaffold end. Marie looked at the row of downcast faces. The bond between these faithful soldiers and herself was that Instant sublime. *' I cra^'e pardon of you all," said Marie as she came back and the rustle of her gown again passed them, '*• for not knowing how to deal with the crafty of this world. jVIy Ht:. THE SONG OF EDEL WALD. 265 foolishness lias brouoht you to this scaf- fold." "No, my lady," said the men in full chorus. "We desire nothing better, my lady," said Edelwald, "since your walking there has blessed it." Father Vincent's voice from the tower door arrested the spectacle. His cowl was pushed back to his shoulders, baring the as- tonishment of his lean face. " This is the unworthiest action of your life, my son De Charnisay," he denounced, shaking his finger and striding down at the governor, who owned the check by a slight grimace. "It is enough," said D'Aulnay. "Let the scaffold now be cleared for the men." He submitted with impatience to a con- tinued parley with the Capuchin. Father Vincent de Paris was angry. And con- stantly as D'Aulnay walked from him he zealously followed. The afternoon sunlight sloped into the w *'- M;".. ^ J! ' " ■ ,'. til./ ti:i ;■.; M 2G6 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. walls, leaving a bank of shadow behind the timbered framework, wliieh extended an etehing of itself toward the esi)lanade. The lengthened figures of soldiers passed also In cloudy images along the broken ground, for a subaltern's first duty had been to set guards upon the walls. The new master of Fort St. John was now master of all south- ern and western Acadia; but he had heard nothin": which secured him against La Tour's return with fresh troops. " My friends," said D'Auluay, speaking to the garrison, " this good friar persuades in me more softness than becomes a faithful servant of the king. One of your number I will reprieve." " Then let it be Jean le Prince," said Edelwald, speaking for tlie first time to D'Aulnay de Charnisay. " The down has not yet grown on the lad's lip." " But I pardon him," continued the gov- ernor, " on condition that he hangs the rest of you." " Hang thyself ! " cried the boy. '^ Thou THE SOXG OF EDKLWALU. iJOj art tlie only man ou earth I would choke with a rope." " Will no one be reprieved ? " D'Aulnay's eye traveled from scorn to scorn along the row. " It is but the pushing aside of a slab. They are all stubborn heretics, Father Vin- cent. We waste time. I should be inspect- ing the contents of this fort." The women and children were flattening themselves like terrified swallows agaius't the gate ; for through the hum of sthiing soldiery penetrated to them from outside a hint of voices not unknown. The sentinels had watched a party a])proacliing ; but it was so small, and hampered, moreover, by a woman and some object like a tiny gilded sedan chair, that they did not notify the governor. One of the party was a Jesuit priest by his cassock, and another his donne. These never came from La Tour. Another was a tall Ilolhmdais; and two servants lightly carried the sedan uj) the slope. A few more people seemed to wait behind for m m r r 2G8 77/ A' LADY OF FOJiT HT. JO US'. the purpose of inakiiii];' a oamp, and tliere were scarce a dozen of tlu; entire (•onij)any. Marie liad borne witliout visible exliaus- tion the labors of this siege, the anguish of treaclieiy and disappointment, her enemy's breach of faith and cruel })arade of her. The garrison were ranged ready ui)on the plank ; but she held herself in tense control, and waited beside Lady Dorinda, with her back toward the gate, while her friends out- side parleyed with her enemy. D'Aulnay refused to admit any one until he had dealt with the garrison. The Jesuit was reported to him as Father Isaac Jogues, and the name had its effect, as it then had everywhere among jieople of the lioman faith. No sol- dier coukl be surprised at meeting a Jesuit priest anywhere in the New World. But D'Aulnay begged Father eTogues to excuse him while he finished a moment's duty, and he woukl then come out and escort his guest into the fortress. The urgent demand, howeyer, of a mis- sionary to whom even the king had shown Tin: suxc OF i:i)i:i.\VALi). 209 fuvor, was not to be denied. D'Aulnay Iiad the gates set ajar ; and i)uslilni;- tln-ouuli tlieir aperture came In Father flogiies witli liis donne and two companions. The governor advanced in displeasure. He would have put out all but the priest, but the gates were slannned to prevent others from entering, and slammed against the chair in which tlie sentinels could see a red-headed dwarf. The weird melody of lier screaming threats kept them dubious while they grinned. The gates being shut, Marie fled through ranks of men-at-arms to An- tonla, clung to her, and gave Father Jogues and Van Corlaer no time to stand aghast at the spectacle they saw. Crying and trem- bling, she put back the sternness of D'Aul- nay de Charnisay, and the pity of Father Vincent de Paris, and pleaded with Father Jogues and the Ilollandais for the lives of her garrison as if they had eome w^ith heavenly authority. "You see them with ropes around their necks, IVIonsieur Corlaer and Monsieur sTV. ^O^ ^> ^^ IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) Z. ^ /. ^/ A ,<^ €P. rute cunning. It readied and compelled every spirit in the fortress. The men in line with him stood erect and 272 TIIL LADY Of J'OJiT ST. JOJJN. Ik :4 ; I l< u lifted tlieir firm jaws, and gazed forward with shining eyes. Those who had faded in the slightest degree from their natural flush of blood felt the strong throbs which paint a man's best on his face. They could not sing the glory of death in duty, the goodness of God who gave love and valor to man ; but they could die with Edelwald. The new master of Fort St. John was jealous of such dying as the song ceased and he lifted his hand to signal his executioners. Father Jogues turned away praying with tremulous lips. The Capuchin strode to- ward the hall. But Van Corlaer and Lady Dorinda and Antonia held with the strength of all three that broken-hearted woman who struggled like a giantess with her arms stretched toward the scaffold. " I will save them — I will save them ! My brave Edelwald — all my brave soldiers shall not die ! — Where are my soldiers, Antonia ? It is dark. I cannot see them any more T " POSTLUDE. A TIDE-CKEEK. When ordinary tlays had settled flake on flake over this tragedy in Acadia until mem- ory looked back at it as at the soft outlines of a snow-obliterated grave, Madame Van Corlaer stood one evening beside the Hudson River, and for half an hour breathed again the salt breath of Fundy Bay. Usually she was abed at that hour. But Mynheer had been expected all day on a sailing vessel from New Amsterdam, and she could not re- sist coming down once more through her garden to the wharf. ^ Van Corlaer's house, the best stone man- sion in Rensselaerswyck — that overflow of settlement around the stockade of Fort Orange -- stood up the slope, and had its farm appended. That delight of Dutchmen, an ample garden, extended its central path 1- t n m :i illl in I f'i 274 T//J-: LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. almost like an avenue to the river. Antonia need scarcely step off her own domain to meet her husband at the wharf. She had lingered down the garden descent ; for sweet herbs were giving their souls to the summer night there ; and not a cloud of a sail yet appeared on the river. Some fishing-boats lay at the wharf, biit no men were idling around under the full moon. It was pleas- anter to visit and smoke from door to door in the streets above. Antonia was not afraid of any savage am- bush. Her husband kept the Iroquois on friendly terms with the settlement. The years through which she had borne her dignity of being Madame Van Corlaer con- stantly increased her res2)ect for that co- lonial statesman. The savages in the Mo- hawk valley used the name (>orlaer when they meant governor. Antonia felt sure that the Jesuit missionary, Father Isaac Jogues, need not have died a martyr's death if Van Corlaer had heard in time of his re- turn to the Mohawks. A TIDE-CRF.EK. 275 At the bottom of licr garden she rested lier hands npon a gate in the low stone wall. The mansion behind her was well ordered and prosperous. No drop of milk was spilled in Antonia's domain without her knowledge. Sh(> had noted, as she came down the path, how the eabbages were rounding their delicately green spheres. Antonia was a housewife for whom maids labored with zeal. She could manipulate so deftly the comfort-making things of life. Neither sunset nor moonrise quite banished the dreamy blue light on these rolling lands around the head -waters of the Hudson. Across her tranquil commoni)lace haj)piness blew suddenly that ocean breath from Fundy Bay ; for the dwarf of Fort St. John, lead- ing a white waddling bird, whose feathers even in that uncertain light showed soil, ap- peared from the screening masonry of the wall. She stood still and looked at Antonia; and Antonia inside the gate looked at her. That instant was a bubble full of revolvin"- I II I'J' m Mt ■( <'it iui ■ vm: 27G 77//: /,.!/>}' 0/' /'^/?r ST. JOHN. dyes. It brought a tliouHjiiid pictures to Anton ia's siglit. Thus silently Imd that same dwarf with her swan appeared to a camp in the Acadian woods, announcing trouble at Fort St. »7ohn. Again Antonia lived through confusion which was like pilhigc; of the fort. Again she sat in her husband's tent, holding Marie's dying head on her arm while grief worked its sw?*"*; miracle in a woman formed to such fullness of beauty and strength. Again she saw two graves and a long trench made in the frontier graveyard for Marie and her officer Edelwald and her twenty- three soldiers, all in line with her child. Once more Antonia saw the household turn from that spot weeping aloud ; and De Charnisay's ships already sailing away with the spoil of the fort to Penobscot ; and his sentinels looking down from the walls of St. John. She saw her husband dividing his own party, and sending all the men he could spare to navigate La Tour's ship and carry the helpless women and children to the head A riDi:-viii:EK. 077 of Fundy Bay. All these thiiicrs revolved before her, in that buhhle of an instant, be- fore her own voice broke it, savin<^ — *' Th this you, Le Kossignol? " " Shubenaeadio and I," responded the dwarf, lilting up sweetly. "Where do you eonie from?" inquired Antonia, feeling the weirdness of her visitor as she had never felt it in the hall at Fort St. John. "Port Koyal. I have come from Port Koyal on i)urj)ose to speak with )ou." " With me '/ •' " AVith you, Madame Antonia." " You must then go direetly to the house and eat some supper," said Antonia, speaking her first thought but reserving her second : "Our people will take to the fields when they see the poor little creature by daylight, and as for the swan, it is worse than a drove Ind lans not eating (o-nin-lit, I am rid Mynhee " I am answered Li> Kossignol, bold in mysteiy while the moon made half uncertain the 278 TUE LADY OF FOHT ST. JOIIS. t! niggled state of Shuljenacadie's feathers. She jdaced her liands on his haek and pressed him (h)\vn\vard, as if his phunago foamed up from an overfull paeking-ease. Shubenaeadie waddled a step or two re- luetantly, and s(piatted, spreading his wings and eurving his head around to look at her. The dwarf sat upon him as upon a throne, stroking his neek with her right hand while she talked. She seemed a part of the river's whisper, or of that world of sunnner night inseets whieh shrilled around. *' I have come to tell you about the death of D'Aulnay de C'harnisay," said this pigmy. " We have long had that news," re- sponded Antonia, '* and worse whieh fol- lowed it." Madame Van Corlaer despised Charles La Tour for rci)ossessing himself of all he had lost and becoming the first power in Acadia by marrying D'Aulnay's widow. " No ear," declared the dwarf, *' hath ever heard how D'Aulnay de Charnisay died." " He was stuck in a bog," said Antonia. A TIDE-CREEK. 270 ** lie was stuck in no bog," said Le Kos- signol, ^'for I alono was beside him at the time. And I ride from Port Koyal to tell thee tlie wliole of it and free my mind, lest I be obliged to fling it in my new lady's face the next time she speaks of his happy memory. Widows who take second hus- bands have no sense about the first one." Antonia slightly coughed. It is not pleas- ant to have your class disapproved of, even by a dwarf. And she did still secretly re- spect her first husband's prophecy. Had it not been fulfilled on the friend she best loved, if not on the husband she took ? " Mynheer Van Corlaer will soon be home from New Amsterdam, whither he made a voyage to confer with the governor," said Antonia. " Let me take you to the house, where we can talk at our ease." *' I talk most at my ease on Shubenaca- dic's back," answered Le Rossignol, hold- ing her swan's head and rubbing her cheek agairst his bill. "You will not keep me a moment at Fort Orange. I fell out of pa- ^s. 280 77/ /v LADY or I'OUT ST. JO/IX. tionce with every place while wo lived so long in i)overty at that stockade at the head of Fundy Hay." " Did you live there long?" inquired An- tonia. " Until D'Aulnay de Charnisay died out of my lord's way. What could my lord do for us, indeed, with nothing but a ship and scarce a dozen men ? I le left some to keep the stockade and took the rest to man his ship when he started to Newfoundland to send her forlorn old highness back to Eng- land. Her old highness hath had many a dower fee from us since that day." " Your lord hath mended his fortunes," remarked Antonia without approval. " Yes, we are now the greatest people in Acadia ; we live in grand state at Port Uoyal. You would never know him for the careworn man he was — except once, in- deed, when he came from viewing the ruins of Fort St. John. It is no longer main- tained as a fortress. But I like not all these things. I rove more now than when Ma- dame Marie lived." .1 Tinr.-cRKr.K. 281 Silence kept a moment after Madame La Tom's name, between Antonia and her illusive visitor. The dwarf seemed clad in sumptuous garments. A cap of rich velvet eould be discerned on lier flaring liair in- stead of the gull-breast covering she once made for herself. " Yet I roved much out of the peasants' way at the stockade," she continued, sending the niglit sounds again into background. *' Peasants who have no master over them become like swine. We had two goats, and I tended them, and sat ages upon ages on the bank of a tide -creek which runs uj) among the marshes at the head of Fundy Bay. Madame Antonia, you should see that tide-creek. It shone like wet sleek red car- nelian when the water was out of it. I loved its basin ; and the goats would go down to lick the salt. They liad more sense than D'Aulnay de Charnisay, for they knew where to venture. I thought D'Aulnay de Charni- say was one of our goats by his bleat, until I looked down and saw him part sunk in a 282 THE LADY OF FORT ST. JOHN. .' -IS f'! ill 1. 4 m h il ■», ' quicksand at the bottom of the channel. The tide was already frothing in like yeast upon him. How gloriously the tide shoots up that tide-creek ! It hisses. It comes like thou- sands of horses galloping one behind the other and tumbling over each other, — fierce and snorting spray, and climbing the banks, and still trampling clown and flying over the ones who have galloped in first." " But what did D'Aulnay de Charnisay do?" inquired Antonia. '* He stuck in the quicksand," responded Le Rossignol. *' But did he not call for lielp ? " " He did notliing else, indeed, until the tide's horses trampled him under." " But what did you do ? " " I sat down and watched him," said the dwarf. " How could you ? " shuddered Antonia, feeling how little this tiny being's humanity was developed. " We had some chat," said Le Rossignol. " He promised me a seigniory if I would % A TIDE-CREEK. 283 the the run and call some men with ropes. ' I heard a Swiss's v.'i'fe say that you i)romised him a seigniory,' quoth I. ' And you had enouoh ropes then.' lie pledged his word and took oath to make me rich if I would get him only a priest. 'You pledged your word to the lady of Fort St. John,' said I. Tlie water kept rising and he kept stretcliing his neck above it, and crying and shouting, and I took his humor and cried and shouted with him, naming the glorious waves as they rode in from the sea ; — " ' Glaud Burge ! ' " ' Jean le Prince ! ' " ' Kenot Babinet ! ' " ' Ambroise Tibedeaux ! ' " And so on until Franc/ois Bastarack tlio twenty-third roller flowed over his Iiead, and Edelwald did not even know he was be- neath." Antonia dropped her face upon her hands. " So that is the true story," said Le Kos- signol. " He died a good salt death, and liis men pulled him out before the next tide." 1 ' ,i 1 '1 ' I 284 r/ZA' LJZJy OF FORT ST. JOHN. Presently Anton ia looked up. Her eye was first caught by a coming sail on the river. It shone in the moonlight, moving slowly, for there was so little wind. Her husband must be there. She turned to say so to Le Rossignol ; who was gone. Antonia opened the gate and stepped out- side, looking in every direction for dwarf and swan. She had not even noticed a rustle, or the pat of Shubenacadie's feet upon sand. But Le Kossignol and her fa- miliar had disappeared in the wide expanse of moonlight ; whether deftly behind tree or rock, or over wall, or through air above, Antonia had no mind to find out. Even the approaching sail took weird- ness. The ship was too distant for her to yet hear the hiss of water around its prow. But in that. Van Corlaer and the homely good happiness of common life was ap- proaching. With the dwarf had disappeared that misty sweet sorrowful Acadian world. CANAOfANA ye he tig er to it- if a et a- 3e je e, ;o V. y )- d