“Impossible!” returned Gabriel sadly. “All alone, those many leagues?”
“But,” put in Herbes confidently, “there was a party of our country people landed at Baye-Verte from that melancholy isle, on their way to Halifax to take the oath of allegiance. One party had already done so, with the result that they were reinstated in their old homes and furnished by the heretic English with provisions for the winter. This second party looked for the same indulgence, if not too late. Who knows? the maiden may have joined them. One coming hither from Baye-Verte vowed that he saw her not with the priests.”
“And I?” exclaimed Gabriel, in a sudden burst of anger with himself, “why did not I capture that man, who over and over again has brought misery into my own life and the lives of all dear to me? From Beauséjour to Baye-Verte it is but twelve miles, and meseemed I rode with my company over every inch of it, yet saw neither priest nor Indian.”
The face of Louis took on a peculiar expression.
“M. le Capitain,” he said, “it hath been related of us that we, the Acadians, love gold. And why not?” shrugging his shoulders and spreading his hands. “Gold, it is good, and we are poor. M. l’Abbé has gold always, and so there are those who would hide and help him, even though he be shorn of his strength. Also, is he not our father in God?” Here his expression became devout, and he crossed himself. “Also, there are some who have wearied of his rule—worse, say I, than that of a dozen kings—and would speed him in his flight.”
But Marie interrupted her husband:
“Yes, Halifax,” she cried, whirling on the two men; “and was it not your wife, she who knows nothing, and the wife of the good friend, and la petite herself, women all, who gave you the wise counsel to go to Halifax while yet there was time, and take the honorable oath of allegiance, and live in peace in the fair Annapolis meadows, and you would not? What have the French done for us, I ask thee once more? What matter the flag? I tell thee once again. Give us peace in the homes of our fathers.”
And at the thought, Marie wiped the tears of memory from her eyes.
Louis continued silent, and Marin it was that answered with a shrug.
“No need to weep, bonne femme! There is yet time. The English are a dull race. They permit themselves to be deceived once and yet again.”