All this made it more difficult for her to assume an easy and natural manner in the presence of Winslow. The restraint it put upon her made it impossible for her to receive him into her daily life as she might otherwise have done. It also affected her position with regard to him, and left him without a true estimate of her character, attractive as she was in feature and in the charm of her fresh youth. He was to a certain extent influenced by the halo of romance surrounding her as the daughter of his venerable friend Pierre. He was, moreover, bound to her by the bond of duty voluntarily accepted, which he was anxious to perform. As yet no woman had entered his life. His studies had been his passion both from choice and favorable opportunity.
In this way the young love of Marie began for her self-appointed guardian and the friend of her father.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
"BLOW-ME-DOWN."
"Dark was thy coming and with fire and dearth;
Internal shudderings and voiceless throes;
When from the burning depths thy form arose
To lie all black and shapeless on the earth."
Frank Winslow was now in the midst of his work, fully recovered from the effect of his accident, and in the enthusiasm of his investigations, with the ardor and strength of his young manhood, he kept himself actively engaged. Sometimes with Pierre and Len, and often with Pierre alone, he made excursions to regions of important geological formations on the numerous islands that studded the waters of the Basin of Minas. He often kept Len afloat for several days, much to the vexation of that young man.
They were again out on the flood tide approaching Blomidon, Len, as usual, at the tiller and Winslow busy with his glass. The wind was fresh and the Marie moved quickly into the shadow of that famous mountain of volcanic birth, the termination of the range of hills that make the backbone of Nova Scotia. The end of the mountain rose in front, lying along the Basin for several miles, and presenting a rugged and precipitous face over the greater part of its extent. Here and there the crown of forest extended down the face of the cliffs like a cape, while in other places the soil was red and stood out in sharp contrast to the black or darker portions of the trap formations. Occasionally were open spaces of farm land where a barn or house could be seen perched seemingly on the very edge of the bluff. Along the whole face of the shore line the mountain stood out in coves and bays curving backward for several miles. To the extreme right the rock terminated in a sharp point called Cape Split, pointing seaward into the waters of the Bay of Fundy. On the right could be seen the lower lands of the Annapolis Valley, resting in quiet beauty on the south of the mountain. On the extreme south, blue in the distance, rose the outline of the South Mountain, making the other wall of the valley. The whole scene lay under the glorious sky of an Acadian summer, a veritable—
"Tempe, vale of the gods, deep-couched amid woodland and woodland,
All day drowsed with the sun, charm-drunken with moonlight at midnight,
Walled from the world forever under a vapor of dreams,—
Hid by the shadows of dreams not found by the curious footstep,
Sacred and secret forever, Tempe, vale of the gods."
—C. G. D. Roberts.