Читать книгу The Crimson Sign - H. A. Cody - Страница 16

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"What is the English girl like? Is she beautiful?"

Pierre, the hunchback, looked down upon the animated faces and eager eyes of Charlotte and Marie D'Armours. He grinned with delight at the curiosity of these little maidens. He liked to have something new to tell them, and never before did he have such an interesting subject.

"Why, what do you think she is like?" he asked.

"I do not know," Charlotte replied, "for I never saw an English girl. Tell us about her, Pierre, please do."

"Tell you about her, eh? Well, how shall I begin? What shall I say first?"

"About her eyes. What color are they?"

"What color? Now, let me think, for I am not sure. Maybe they're green like the eyes of a cat."

Again he grinned as he looked at the faces of the astonished girls.

"No, I guess they're not green. They are blue, as blue and clear as the sky on a summer day."

"Oh, I am so glad!" and Marie sighed her relief. "Blue eyes are lovely. What is her hair like?

"I can't remember exactly, but I think it's yellow, with streaks of red and black through it.

"Oh!" both girls exclaimed in dismay.

"No, no, I guess it's not like that. I was just teasing you. But it is so wonderful and beautiful that I cannot describe it. No, no, I could never tell you. You must see her for yourselves, and then you will know."

"Is she as beautiful as our mother?" Marie asked.

"Oh, no. Although the English girl is beautiful, there is no one in all the world so beautiful to you as your mother."

Madame Marguerite D'Armours smiled as she watched the little group and listened to their conversation. Her eyes expressed her love as they looked upon her two young daughters. She thought of the captive English girl. Suppose Charlotte or Marie were seized and carried away by an enemy! How terrible that would be. How could she endure it.

The long hot summer day was ended, and Madame D'Armours was enjoying the refreshing coolness of the evening upon the bank of the small Jemseg stream, which flowed into the Saint John River a short distance below. She was tired, for she had been busy from early morning attending to her household duties, making butter, looking after the poultry, and helping her husband and his few men in the hayfield during the afternoon. Pierre had been absent, so someone had to take his place. So now it was pleasant to rest for a while here with her two little children, and listen to their talk with Pierre.

Several times Madame Marguerite glanced towards the barn to see what the men were doing. It was a fair scene which met her view wherever she looked. Before her, across the narrow stream, was a wooded island. To the left great acres of level lowlands stretched far and wide, which were covered deep by the freshet each spring. Now, however, they were robed with tall grass, except for large patches of oats, wheat, Indian corn, and peas. There were sixty-five acres in all under cultivation, including those on the uplands which sloped back to the dense forest. Much of this land had been cleared years before when Sir Thomas Temple was in command of the fort here, and later when Sieur de Soulanges held sway. Nearby were the ruins of the old fort, and Madame Marguerite often thought of the lonely life which Marie Francoise, wife of de Soulanges, had led there years before. Many a time she had told Charlotte and Marie about that brave woman, and they were never weary of hearing about the little Louise Elizabeth who was but an infant when the rough Dutchmen came in the frigate, the "Flying Horse," captured and destroyed the fort, and carried de Soulanges away captive to Boston.

That was over twenty years ago, and now all was peace at the Jemseg. But Madame Marguerite well knew that trouble might come at any moment. She remembered only too clearly how the English had come up the river two years before, and all at the Jemseg had fled to the Big Lake. And they might arrive again, and very soon, for Colonel Garland would surely come with a strong force to rescue his daughter. She sighed as she looked around. How hard she and her husband, Louis, had worked to make for themselves a home here in the wilderness where they would be free. But dangers were ever around them, not only from the English, but from Villebon, as well. She knew how the latter hated them, and was constantly complaining to the King in France, as well as to Count Frontenac. Villebon had charged that they were lawless and given over to licentiousness, followed the ways of the Indians in living a wild life in the woods, and were not tilling the soil. All this was hard to endure. She was a woman who loved peace, and the quiet home life with her husband and children. She hoped that some day they would have money enough to go back to their old home in Sunny France. She could not bear the idea of her daughters spending their lives in Acadia, constantly surrounded by dangers. She longed for them to have a better education than she could give them. They had no suitable companions with whom to play. Pierre was their chief play-mate, and she knew that he could be trusted. But they needed girls of their own age and social standing.

She was worried, too, about her sister at the Oromocto. She loved Louise, but their natures were so different that they had very little in common now. Once they were as much together as possible. She had always known that Louise was impulsive, passionate, and fond of the officers who came to the river. Since her husband's death she had become reckless, and was constantly stirring up trouble, spying upon Villebon, and reporting every incident to Count Frontenac. In doing this she was not only endangering herself and those at the Oromocto, but all at the Jemseg, as well.

Madame Marguerite thought of these things by day, and often at night. She could not get them out of her mind. So not even the peace that surrounded her this beautiful evening, and the happy group nearby, could dispel her oppressive fears. Many times she and her husband had talked together, and wondered what they could do to check Louise in the wild course she was pursuing.

The long twilight steadily deepened as she thus sat musing. The children chatted with Pierre or danced gaily to some lively tune he played upon his fife. He had taught them all he knew, and he was greatly pleased as he watched their flower-like forms moving so gracefully upon the soft grass. The glory of the western sky was slowly fading, the gold and crimson shading softly into mauve and dull gray. The sound of waterfowl drifted up from the marsh-lands, sleepy birds cheeped in the branches of the trees, and nighthawks flitted to and fro.

Madame Marguerite rose to her feet. It was growing late, and the children must get to bed. They never seemed to tire so long as they had some one to play with them. She had taken but a step forward, when she stopped abruptly. She had caught sight of a moving object upon the water coming slowly towards them. Instantly she was the pioneer mother, always surrounded by dangers, and never knowing when the Indians might make an attack. Perhaps they were coming now.

She hurried to the little group, and placed her arms around the girls. They noticed her excitement, and asked what was the matter.

"There is a canoe coming up the river," she explained. "It may be from the fort, but one can never tell. Let us go to the house."

Pierre was now peering keenly through the deepening gloom. He said nothing until the craft had come nearer. Then he gave a shout of joy.

"They are the English captives, Madame!" he cried. "Don't you see them? They paddle as if they are very tired."

Placing his fife to his lips, he began to play loud and fast. It was his welcome to the visitors, and it was needed more than he imagined.

When the canoe ere long touched the bank, Pierre seized it and drew it up half its length. David at once stepped out, followed by his companion. Madame Marguerite came forward, gave David a word of greeting and turned to the girl. And she then did what her sister Louise had never thought of doing. She caught the girl's hand in hers, looked into her eyes, kissed her upon the cheek, and bade her welcome to the Jemseg. It was her heart which compelled her, a heart full of love for the unfortunate. And this was just what Helen Garland needed. She was tired and lonely, so throwing her arms around Madame Marguerite's neck, she clung to her like a child to its mother.

It was David who explained about their voyage from the Oromocto that afternoon, and what a long hard paddle it had been for them.

"Mam'selle helped me all the way, Madame, and she is very tired."

"But why have you come here, young English? Does my sister know?"

"Oh, yes, for she sent us. And here is a letter for you. She told me to give it to no one else, as it is very important."

Taking the letter, Madame Marguerite slipped it into the bosom of her dress. She would read it later when alone. And, besides, it was too dark now.

"Come, we must go to the house," she ordered. "It is getting late, and there is a dampness in the air."

The girls had taken possession of David, and as they walked by his side they watched the English girl with their mother. Pierre followed, his flute in his hand, ready to play at the least opportunity.

Louis D'Armours was awaiting them at the house, and Helen was pleased at his courteous greeting. She liked him at once, so kind and noble did he look. The large room, which served as kitchen and living-room, was home-like, and everything was as clean as hands could make it. When the candles were lighted, Madame Marguerite spread the table with a fair linen cloth, served cold meat, bread and milk for her guests.

"You must be hungry," she said to David. "And the English girl looks tired. I wish I could talk to her."

"We are both hungry and tired, Madame," the boy replied. "We have eaten but little since leaving Oromocto. I do wish you could talk to her, for she knows so much, and has seen such wonderful places."

While Helen and David ate, the two little girls sat at the end of the table. They kept their eyes fixed intently upon Helen, and watched her every movement. She was the first English girl they had ever seen, and nothing escaped their sharp little eyes. To them she was like a wonderful being from another world, and when she occasionally smiled upon them, they were delighted. At first they were shy, but by the time the meal was ended, they were standing by Helen's side, looking up into her face. In a few minutes they were firm friends, and with David to act as interpreter they began a lively conversation. Then the visitor had to be shown marvellous wooden dolls, cradles, and baskets made by Indians to hold the clothes. There were other things, as well, which had to be exhibited, all precious to the children, especially three kittens in a basket near the large fire-place.

Tired though she was, Helen took a keen interest in everything, and by her manner showed the little ones her pleasure. But she was not unmindful of the father and mother as they sat at the table, reading by the light of the candle the letter from Madam Louise. Once while seated on the floor with a kitten on her lap, she watched them. She noticed the serious expressions upon their faces, and believed it was due to the letter they had received. Did it have anything to do with herself? she wondered. Or was it about the unsuccessful raid that had been made along the coast? Perhaps it told of the bad men who were prowling around of whom David had told her. But why should she fear dangers? With the exception of Madame Louise, she had met only with friendly people both at the Oromocto and here at the Jemseg. Surely they would protect her and see that she was safely returned to Fort Reliance. If she ever had any doubt about this it was now dispelled as she watched Louis D'Armours and his wife. They looked so true sitting there in the circle of light, conversing with each other in low tones. And these, as well as all other French people in Acadia, were enemies to the English, so she had been taught. They had gone forth from this river with Indians to raid towns and villages along the coast, to kill, to scalp, and to take prisoners. And they were white like her own race, they were friendly, and had quiet homes and little children to love and tend. Why should not the two races live in peace and harmony? Why was war necessary?

Helen thought of these things as she fondled one of the kittens. But it was later when in bed, having been lovingly tucked in by Madame Marguerite, that the senseless barbarity of the race-strife stirred her heart with indignation. From a child she had lived among soldiers, at forts, in the midst of fears and alarms. She had known no other world, and always the French and the Indians had been the terrible enemies. But now she was in the midst of her foes, being kindly treated. Why was it necessary to fight with such people? There must be something wrong somewhere, she felt sure.

Thinking thus, she fell asleep, and dreamed that she was being captured by bad men. As they were carrying her away, several members of the League of the Crimson Sign, led by Grey Martell, fought their way to her side and rescued her from her enemies.