They come as Puritans, but who shall say their hearts are blind To the subtle charms of nature, and the love of humankind?
* * * * *
And tears fall fast from many an eye, long time unused to weep, For o'er the fields lay whitening the bones of cow and sheep.'"
"I know that you'll think me frightfully stupid," was Martine's comment, as Priscilla finished reading. "That is delightful poetry, but it isn't clear in my mind who the Connecticut Puritans were. Were they exiles, too, like the Acadians and the Loyalists?"
"Only by their own will. But you are not stupid in failing to understand about the resettling of Acadia. Many Nova Scotians know very little about it. After the French had been deported in 1755, this fertile Province would have been of little service to England without inhabitants. The simplest way to repeople the land was to attract colonists from the older colonies. So Governor Lawrence sent a proclamation to Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut, stating the terms on which the Government would grant land to settlers. As a result three separate groups of settlers were formed. The Massachusetts families came to Annapolis; the Rhode Islanders to the country North of Grand Pré, where there is now a Newport; and the Connecticut settlers, as Priscilla has just read, to Grand Pré. These people were of the highest character. Many of them had considerable property of their own, and they came down here in the spirit that took so many sturdy New Englanders West a generation or two ago."
"Thank you, Mrs. Redmond; I am glad to know that they didn't drive the French out."
"Oh, no, many of them had undoubtedly seen the fertility of Nova Scotia during the long French and Indian Wars, in which they had fought; the richness of the country was pretty well understood. But they themselves had nothing to do with deporting the Acadians. Dr. Gray explained all this at Annapolis. But come, girls! You can copy these inscriptions some other day, Priscilla. We must rest a little now, if we expect to enjoy the afternoon."
When Mr. Knight called for them that afternoon the girls were surprised at his appearance. Mrs. Redmond had forgotten to say that he was an extremely young man, whose youth seemed all the greater because he tried to assume the manners and aspect of a much older person. He had been graduated from Acadia College a few years before, the youngest of his class by more than a year. He was now a teacher in the neighboring school that fitted boys for Acadia, and on this account perhaps felt the need of maintaining a dignity of demeanor that should make them forget his youth.
His friendship for Balfour and his sincere admiration of the whole Airton family ought to have saved him from Martine's ridicule. But from the moment that her eye took in the details of his costume,—his high-standing collar, his round-headed walking-stick, his monocle, and his hair neatly parted in the middle (though this was hardly a detail of costume), she was convulsed with laughter. The carriage that Mr. Knight had brought was two-seated, but each seat was wide enough for three, and the pair of horses looked capable of travelling many miles without fatigue.
Martine and Priscilla begged for the front seat with the driver, and Mr. Knight, accordingly, sat on the back seat with Amy and Mrs. Redmond.