CHAPTER XVI.

AN ACADIEN FESTIVAL.

"Vive Jésus! Vive Jésus! Avec la croix, son cher partage. Vive Jésus! Dans les coeurs de tous les élus! Portons la croix.

* * * * *

Sans choix, sans ennui, sans murmure, Portons la croix! Quoique très amère et très dure, Malgré les sens et la nature, Portons la croix!"

--_Acadien Song._

Charlitte had been in his grave for nearly two years. He slept peacefully in the little green cemetery hard by the white church where a slender, sorrowful woman came twice every week to hear a priest repeat masses for the repose of his soul.

He slept on and gave no sign, and his countrymen came and went above him, reflecting occasionally on their own end, but mostly, after the manner of all men, allowing their thoughts to linger rather on matters pertaining to time than on those of eternity.

One fifteenth of August--the day consecrated by Acadiens all over Canada to the memory of their forefathers--had come and gone, and another had arrived.

This day was one of heavenly peace and calm. The sky was faintly, exquisitely blue, and so placid was the Bay that the occupants of the boats crossing from Digby Neck to some of the churches in Frenchtown were forced to take in their sails, and apply themselves to their oars.

Since early morning the roads of the parish in which Sleeping Water is situated had been black with people, and now at ten o'clock some two thousand Acadiens were assembled about the doors of the old church at Pointe à l'Eglise.

There was no talking, no laughing. In unbroken silence they waited for the sound of the bell, and when it came they flocked into the church, packing it full, and overflowing out to the broad flight of steps, where they knelt in rows and tried to obtain glimpses over each other's shoulders of the blue and white decorations inside, and of the altar ablaze with lights.

The priests from the college and glebe-house, robed in handsome vestments, filed out from the vestry, and, quietly approaching the silken banners standing against the low gallery, handed them to representatives of different societies connected with the church.

The children of the Guardian Angel received the picture of their patron saint, and, gathering around it, fluttered soberly out to the open air through the narrow lane left among the kneeling worshippers.

The children of the Society of Mary followed them, their white-clad and veiled figures clustering about the pale, pitying Virgin carried by two of their number. A banner waving beside her bore the prayer, "_Marie, Priez Pour Nous_" (Mary, pray for us), and, as if responding to the petition, her two hands were extended in blessing over them.

After the troop of snowy girls walked the black sisters in big bonnets and drooping shawls, and the brown sisters, assistants to the Eudists, who wore black veils with white flaps against their pale faces. Then came the priests, altar boys, and all the congregation. Until they left the church the organ played an accompaniment to their chanting. On the steps a young deacon put a cornet to his lips, and, taking up the last note of the organ, prolonged it into a vigorous leadership of the singing:

Ave maris Stella, Dei mater alma, Atque semper virgo Felix coeli porta.

As the congregation sang, they crossed the road to the gates of the college grounds, and divided into two parts, the men, with heads uncovered, going one side, and the women on the other.

Above the gate-posts waved two flags, the union jack and the Acadien national flag,--a French tricolor, crossed by a blue stripe, and pierced with a yellow star.

Slowly and solemnly the long array of men and women passed by the glebe-house and the white marble tomb of the good Abbé, whose life was given to the Acadiens of the Bay Saint-Mary. The hymns sung by the priests at the head of the procession floated back to the congregation in the rear, and at the moment when the singing was beginning to die away in the distance and the procession was winding out of sight behind the big college, two strangers suddenly appeared on the scene.

They were a slender, elegant man and a beautiful lad of a clear, healthy pallor of skin. The man, with a look of grave, quiet happiness on his handsome face, stepped from the carriage in which they were driving, fastened his horse to a near fence, and threw a longing glance after the disappearing procession.

"If we hurry, Narcisse," he said, "we shall be able to overtake them."

The lad at once placed himself beside him, and together they went on their way towards the gates.

"Do you remember it?" asked the man, softly, as the boy lifted his hat when they passed by the door of the silent, decorated church.

"Yes, perfectly," he said, with a sweet, delicate intonation of voice. "It seems as if my mother must be kneeling there."

Vesper's brow and cheeks immediately became suffused with crimson. "She is probably on ahead. We will find out. If she is not, we shall drive at once to Sleeping Water."

They hurried on silently. The procession was now moving through another gate, this one opening on the point of land where are the ruins of the first church that the good Abbé built on the Bay.

Beside its crumbling ruins and the prostrate altarstones a new, fresh altar had been put up,--this one for temporary use. It was a veritable bower of green amid which bloomed many flowers, the fragile nurslings of the sisters in the adjacent convent.

Before this altar the priests and deacons knelt for an instant on colored rugs, then, while the people gathered closely around them, an Acadien Abbé from the neighboring province of New Brunswick ascended the steps of the altar, and, standing beside the embowered Virgin mother, special patron and protectress of his race, he delivered a fervent panegyric on the ancestors of the men and women before him.

While he recounted the struggles and trials of the early Acadiens, many of his hearers wept silently, but when this second good Abbé eloquently exhorted them not to linger too long on a sad past, but to gird themselves for a glorious future, to be constant to their race and to their religion, their faces cleared,--they were no longer a prey to mournful recollections.

Vesper, holding his hat in his hand, and closely accompanied by Narcisse, moved slowly nearer and nearer to a man who stood with his face half hidden by his black hat.

It was Agapit, and at Vesper's touch he started slightly, then, for he would not speak on this solemn occasion, he extended a hand that was grasped in the firm and enduring clasp of a friendship that would not again be broken.

Vesper would never forget that, amid all the bustle and confusion succeeding Charlitte's death, Agapit had found time to send him a cable message,--"Charlitte is dead."

After communicating with Agapit, Vesper drew the boy nearer to him, and fell back a little. He was inexpressibly moved. A few years ago he would have called this "perverted Christianity--Mariolatry." Now, now--"O God!" he muttered, "my pure saint, she has genuine piety," and under wet lashes he stole a glance at one form, preëminently beautiful among the group of straight and slim young Acadien women beyond him. She was there,--his heart's delight, his treasure. She was his. The holy, rapt expression would give place to one more earthly, more self-conscious. He would not surrender her to heaven just yet,--but still, would it not be heaven on earth to be united to her?

She did not know that he was near. In complete oblivion of her surroundings she followed the singing of the Tantum Ergo. When the benediction was over, she lifted her bowed head, her eyes turned once towards the cemetery. She was thinking of Charlitte.

The sensitive Narcisse trembled. The excess of melancholy and sentimental feeling about him penetrated to his soul, and Vesper withdrew with him to the edge of the crowd. Then before the procession re-formed to march back to the church, they took up their station by the college gates.

All the Acadiens saw him there as they approached,--all but Rose.

She only raised her eyes from her prayer-book to fix them on the sky. She alone of the women seemed to be so wholly absorbed in a religious fervor that she did not know where she was going nor what she was doing.

Some of the Acadiens looked doubtfully at Vesper. Since the death of her husband, whose treachery towards her had in some way been discovered, she had been regarded more than ever as a saint,--as one set apart for prayer and meditation almost as much as if she had been consecrated to them. Would she give up her saintly life for marriage with the Englishman?

Would she do it? Surely this holy hour was the wrong time to ask her, and they waited breathlessly until they reached the gates where the procession was to break up. There she discovered Vesper. In the face of all the congregation he had stepped up and was holding out his hand to her.

She did not hesitate an instant. She did not even seem to be surprised. An expression of joyful surrender sprang to her face; in silent, solemn ecstasy she took her lover's hand, and, throwing her arm around the neck of her recovered child, she started with them on the long road down the Bay.

* * * * *

All this happened a few years ago, but the story is yet going on. If you come from Boston to-day, and take your wheel or carriage at Yarmouth,--for the strong winds blow one up and not down the Bay,--you will, after passing through Salmon River, Chéticamp, Meteghan, Saulnierville, and other places, come to the swinging sign of the Sleeping Water Inn.

There, if you stop, you will be taken good care of by Claudine and Mirabelle Marie,--who is really a vastly improved woman.

Perhaps among all the two hundred thousand Acadiens scattered throughout the Maritime Provinces of Canada there is not a more interesting inn than that of Sleeping Water. They will give you good meals and keep your room tidy, and they will also show you--if you are really interested in the Acadien French--a pretty cottage in the form of a horseshoe that was moved bodily away from the wicked Sleeping Water River and placed in a flat green field by the shore. To it, you will be informed, comes every year a family from Boston, consisting of an Englishman and his wife, his mother and two children. They will describe the family to you, or perhaps, if it is summer-time, you may see the Englishman himself, riding a tall bay horse and looking affectionately at a beautiful lad who accompanies him on a glossy black steed rejoicing in the name of Toochune.

The Englishman is a man of wealth and many schemes. He has organized a company for the planting and cultivation of trees along the shore of the charming, but certainly wind-swept Bay. He also is busy now surveying the coast for the carrying out of his long-cherished plan of an electric railway running along the shore.

He will yet have it, the Acadiens say, but in the meantime he amuses himself by viewing the land and interviewing the people, and when he is weary he rides home to the cottage where his pale, fragile mother is looking eagerly for her adopted, idolized grandchild Narcisse, and where his wife sits by the window and waits for him.

As she waits she often smiles and gazes down at her lap where lies a tiny creature,--a little girl whose eyes and mouth are her own, but whose hair is the hair of Vesper.

Perhaps you will go to Sleeping Water by the train. If so, do not look out for the red coat which always used to be the distinguishing mark of this place, and do not mention Emmanuel's name to the woman who keeps the station, nor to her husband, for they were very fond of him, and if you speak of the red-jacketed mail-man they will turn aside to hide their tears.

Nannichette and her husband have come out of the woods and live by the shore. Mirabelle Marie has persuaded the former to go to mass with her. The Indian in secret delight says nothing, but occasionally he utters a happy grunt.

Bidiane and her husband live in Weymouth. Their _ménage_ is small and unambitious as yet, in order that they may do great things in the future, Bidiane says. She is absolutely charming when she ties a handkerchief on her head and sweeps out her rooms; and sometimes she cooks.

Often at such times she scampers across a yard that separates her from her husband's office, and, after looking in his window to make sure that he is alone, she flies in, startles and half suffocates him by throwing her arms around his neck and stuffing in his mouth or his pocket some new and delectable dainty known only to herself and the cook-book.

She is very happy, and turns with delight from her winter visits to Halifax, where, however, she manages to enjoy herself hugely, to her summer on the Bay, when she can enjoy the most congenial society in the world to her and to her husband,--that of Vesper Nimmo and his wife Rose.

THE END.

_SELECTIONS FROM L. C. PAGE AND COMPANY'S LIST OF NEW FICTION._

Selections from L. C. Page and Company's List of New Fiction.

An Enemy to the King.

From the Recently Discovered Memoirs of the Sieur de la Tournoire. By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS. Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25=

An historical romance of the sixteenth century, describing the adventures of a young French nobleman at the Court of Henry IV., and on the field with Henry of Navarre.

The Continental Dragoon.

A Romance of Philipse Manor House, in 1778. By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author of "An Enemy to the King." Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

A stirring romance of the Revolution, the scene being laid in and around the old Philipse Manor House, near Yonkers, which at the time of the story was the central point of the so-called "neutral territory" between the two armies.

Muriella; or, Le Selve.

By OUIDA. Illustrated by M. B. Prendergast. 1 vol., library 12 mo, cloth =$1.25=

This is the latest work from the pen of the brilliant author of "Under Two Flags," "Moths," etc., etc. It is the story of the love and sacrifice of a young peasant girl, told in the absorbing style peculiar to the author.

The Road to Paris.

By ROBERT NEILSON STEPHENS, author of "An Enemy to the King," "The Continental Dragoon," etc. Illustrated by H. C. Edwards. (In press.) 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

An historical romance, being an account of the life of an American gentleman adventurer of Jacobite ancestry, whose family early settled in the colony of Pennsylvania. The scene shifts from the unsettled forests of the then West to Philadelphia, New York, London, Paris, and, in fact, wherever a love of adventure and a roving fancy can lead a soldier of fortune. The story is written in Mr. Stephens's best style, and is of absorbing interest.

Rose à Charlitte.

An Acadien Romance. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful Joe," etc. Illustrated by H. De M. Young. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

In this novel, the scene of which is laid principally in the land of Evangeline, Marshall Saunders has made a departure from the style of her earlier successes. The historical and descriptive setting of the novel is accurate, the plot is well conceived and executed, the characters are drawn with a firm and delightful touch, and the fortunes of the heroine, Rose à Charlitte, a descendant of an old Acadien family, will be followed with eagerness by the author's host of admirers.

Bobbie McDuff.

By CLINTON ROSS, author of "The Scarlet Coat," "Zuleika," etc. Illustrated by B. West Clinedinst. 1 vol., large 16mo, cloth =$1.00=

Clinton Ross is well known as one of the most promising of recent American writers of fiction, and in the description of the adventures of his latest hero, Bobbie McDuff, he has repeated his earlier successes. Mr. Ross has made good use of the wealth of material at his command. New York furnishes him the hero, sunny Italy a heroine, grim Russia the villain of the story, while the requirements of the exciting plot shift the scene from Paris to New York, and back again to a remote, almost feudal villa on the southern coast of Italy.

In Kings' Houses.

A Romance of the Reign of Queen Anne. By JULIA C. R. DORR, author of "A Cathedral Pilgrimage," etc. Illustrated by Frank T. Merrill. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

Mrs. Dorr's poems and travel sketches have earned for her a distinct place in American literature, and her romance, "In Kings' Houses," is written with all the charm of her earlier works. The story deals with one of the most romantic episodes in English history. Queen Anne, the last of the reigning Stuarts, is described with a strong, yet sympathetic touch, and the young Duke of Gloster, the "little lady," and the hero of the tale, Robin Sandys, are delightful characterizations.

Sons of Adversity.

A Romance of Queen Elizabeth's Time. By L. COPE CONFORD, author of "Captain Jacobus," etc. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25=

A tale of adventure on land and sea at the time when Protestant England and Catholic Spain were struggling for naval supremacy. Spanish conspiracies against the peace of good Queen Bess, a vivid description of the raise of the Spanish siege of Leyden by the combined Dutch and English forces, sea fights, the recovery of stolen treasure, are all skilfully woven elements in a plot of unusual strength.

The Count of Nideck.

From the French of Erckman-Chatrian, translated and adapted by RALPH BROWNING FISKE. Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25=

A romance of the Black Forest, woven around the mysterious legend of the Wehr Wolf. The plot has to do with the later German feudal times, is brisk in action, and moves spiritedly from start to finish. Mr. Fiske deserves a great deal of credit for the excellence of his work. No more interesting romance has appeared recently.

The Making of a Saint.

By W. SOMERSET MAUGHAM. Illustrated by Gilbert James. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

"The Making of a Saint" is a romance of Mediæval Italy, the scene being laid in the 15th century. It relates the life of a young leader of Free Companions who, at the close of one of the many petty Italian wars, returns to his native city. There he becomes involved in its politics, intrigues, and feuds, and finally joins an uprising of the townspeople against their lord. None can resent the frankness and apparent brutality of the scenes through which the hero and his companions of both sexes are made to pass, and many will yield ungrudging praise to the author's vital handling of the truth. In the characters are mirrored the life of the Italy of their day. The book will confirm Mr. Maugham's reputation as a strong and original writer.

Omar the Tentmaker.

A Romance of Old Persia. By NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. Illustrated. (In press.) 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

Mr. Dole's study of Persian literature and history admirably equips him to enter into the life and spirit of the time of the romance, and the hosts of admirers of the inimitable quatrains of Omar Khayyam, made famous by Fitzgerald, will be deeply interested in a tale based on authentic facts in the career of the famous Persian poet. The three chief characters are Omar Khayyam, Nizam-ul-Mulk, the generous and high-minded Vizier of the Tartar Sultan Malik Shah of Mero, and Hassan ibu Sabbah, the ambitious and revengeful founder of the sect of the Assassins. The scene is laid partly at Naishapur, in the Province of Khorasan, which about the period of the First Crusade was at its acme of civilization and refinement, and partly in the mountain fortress of Alamut, south of the Caspian Sea, where the Ismailians under Hassan established themselves towards the close of the 11th century. Human nature is always the same, and the passions of love and ambition, of religion and fanaticism, of friendship and jealousy, are admirably contrasted in the fortunes of these three able and remarkable characters as well as in those of the minor personages of the story.

Captain Fracasse.

A new translation from the French of Gotier. Illustrated by Victor A. Searles. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25=

This famous romance has been out of print for some time, and a new translation is sure to appeal to its many admirers, who have never yet had any edition worthy of the story.

The Rejuvenation of Miss Semaphore.

A farcical novel. By HAL GODFREY. Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry. (In press.) 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25=

A fanciful, laughable tale of two maiden sisters of uncertain age who are induced, by their natural longing for a return to youth and its blessings, to pay a large sum for a mystical water which possesses the value of setting backwards the hands of time. No more delightfully fresh and original book has appeared since "Vice Versa" charmed an amused world. It is well written, drawn to the life, and full of the most enjoyable humor.

Midst the Wild Carpathians.

By MAURUS JOKAI, author of "Black Diamonds," "The Lion of Janina," etc. Authorized translation by R. Nisbet Bain. Illustrated. (In press.) 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25=

A thrilling, historical, Hungarian novel, in which the extraordinary dramatic and descriptive powers of the great Magyar writer have full play. As a picture of feudal life in Hungary it has never been surpassed for fidelity and vividness. The translation is exceedingly well done.

The Golden Dog.

A Romance of Quebec. By WILLIAM KIRBY. New authorized edition. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25=

A powerful romance of love, intrigue, and adventure in the time of Louis XV. and Mme. de Pompadour, when the French colonies were making their great struggle to retain for an ungrateful court the fairest jewels in the colonial diadem of France.

Bijli the Dancer.

By JAMES BLYTHE PATTON. Illustrated by Horace Van Rinth. (In press.) 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

A novel of Modern India. The fortunes of the heroine, an Indian Naucht girl, are told with a vigor, pathos, and a wealth of poetic sympathy that makes the book admirable from first to last.

"To Arms!"

Being Some Passages from the Early Life of Allan Oliphant, Chirurgeon, Written by Himself, and now Set Forth for the First Time. By ANDREW BALFOUR. Illustrated. (In press.) 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

A romance dealing with an interesting phase of Scottish and English history, the Jacobite Insurrection of 1715, which will appeal strongly to the great number of admirers of historical fiction. The story is splendidly told, the magic circle which the author draws about the reader compelling a complete forgetfulness of prosaic nineteenth century life.

Mere Folly.

A novel. By MARIA LOUISE POOLE, author of "In a Dike Shanty," etc. Illustrated. (In press.) 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.25=

An extremely well-written story of modern life. The interest centres in the development of the character of the heroine, a New England girl, whose high-strung temperament is in constant revolt against the confining limitations of nineteenth century surroundings. The reader's interest is held to the end, and the book will take high rank among American psychological novels.

A Hypocritical Romance and other stories.

By CAROLINE TICKNOR. Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy. 1 vol., large 16mo, cloth =$1.00=

Miss Ticknor, well known as one of the most promising of the younger school of American writers, has never done better work than in the majority of these clever stories, written in a delightful comedy vein.

Cross Trails.

By VICTOR WAITE. Illustrated. (In press.) 1 vol., library 12mo, cloth =$1.50=

A Spanish-American novel of unusual interest, a brilliant, dashing, and stirring story, teeming with humanity and life. Mr. Waite is to be congratulated upon the strength with which he has drawn his characters.

A Mad Madonna and other stories.

By L. CLARKSON WHITELOCK, with eight half-tone illustrations. 1 vol., large 16mo, cloth =$1.00=

A half dozen remarkable psychological stories, delicate in color and conception. Each of the six has a touch of the supernatural, a quick suggestion, a vivid intensity, and a dreamy realism that is matchless in its forceful execution.

On the Point.

A Summer Idyl. By NATHAN HASKELL DOLE, author of "Not Angels Quite," with dainty half-tone illustrations as chapter headings. 1 vol., large 16mo, cloth =$1.00=

A bright and clever story of a summer on the coast of Maine, fresh, breezy, and readable from the first to the last page. The narrative describes the summer outing of a Mr. Merrithew and his family. The characters are all honest, pleasant people, whom we are glad to know. We part from them with the same regret with which we leave a congenial party of friends.

Cavalleria Rusticana; or, Under the Shadow of Etna.

Translated from the Italian of Giovanni Verga, by NATHAN HASKELL DOLE. Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry. 1 vol., 16mo, cloth =$0.50=

Giovanni Verga stands at present as unquestionably the most prominent of the Italian novelists. His supremacy in the domain of the short story and in the wider range of the romance is recognized both at home and abroad. The present volume contains a selection from the most dramatic and characteristic of his Sicilian tales. Verga is himself a native of Sicily, and his knowledge of that wonderful country, with its poetic and yet superstitious peasantry, is absolute. Such pathos, humor, variety, and dramatic quality are rarely met in a single volume.

Transcriber's Note

Apparent printer's errors have been retained, unless stated below.

Punctuation, capitalization, accents and formatting markup have been made consistent.

"-" surrounding text represents italics.

"=" surrounding text represents bold.

"+" surrounding text represents the use of a Gothic font in the original.

Page 64, 100, 176 and 202, changed "ecstacy" to "ecstasy" for continuity.

Page 120, "forthfathers" changed to "forefathers" for consistency. (Our forefathers were not of Grand Pré.)

Page 163, added the missing word, "to" ("I should like to see your sister, Perside.")

Page 220, "pantomine" changed to "pantomime". (The unfortunate watcher, in great perplexity of mind, was going through every gesture in the pantomime of distress.)

Page 294, "Agapit" changed to "Vesper". ("The doctors in Boston also say it," responded Vesper.)

Page 394, "how" changed to "now". (The earth was soft here by the lake, yet it was heavy to lift out, for the hole had now become quite deep.)

Page 506, "Malgre" changed to "Malgré". (Quoique très amère et très dure, Malgré les sens et la nature, Portons la croix!)