The Chevalier's daughter

by Lucy Ellen Guernsey

And she departed, leaving me more puzzled than ever. I found a small mail in my cell, and was glad to discover therein some changes of raiment, all very plain, and even coarse. There were also some books of devotion, a rosary, and a purse containing a small sum of money, besides a considerable package of biscuits, dried fruit, and comfits, which had evidently been thrust in after the mail was packed, probably by Susanne.

I changed my travelling-dress, bathed my face, and brushed the dust out of my hair. I would have given almost anything to open my Testament, but this I dared not do. I had hardly made myself ready when a nun entered with my supper, which was good, and arranged with neatness. There was even a cup of chocolate. The dishes were set out on my little table, and the nun, bidding me take my chocolate while it was fresh, departed and closed the door. Then indeed I did venture to draw forth my precious Gospel and read a few words—only a few—but they were like manna in the desert.

"And while he was yet a great way off, his father saw him."

That was all. It brought the whole to my mind. I was the prodigal who had left my father's house and wasted my substance, and now I was brought to the husks indeed. What could I do but to act like the poor spendthrift—arise and go to my father?

I heard a step in the gallery, and thrust my book into my bosom. The step passed, but I dared not take it out again just then; and, sitting down, I ate my supper with a good appetite.

"They mean to try what kindness can do in the first place," I mused. "I dare say the good sister thought these sugared apricots would be so many irresistible arguments. But what could she mean by what she said about colonists and a new country?"

All at once the explanation flashed across me with the force of certainty. I was to be sent out to Canada.

To make my meaning plain I must relate a little bit of history.

It is well-known that King Louis the Fourteenth took a deep interest in his colony of New France, in America. He concerned himself personally in all its affairs, public and private, and made all sorts of laws and regulations for its benefit. He was very desirous that the colonists should lead settled lives, instead of taking to the woods and living with and like the savages, as a great many of them would have preferred, to do and in fact did, in spite of him. He would have them marry and raise large families, and promised premiums in the shape of land, provisions, and so forth, to those who did so.

But where were the wives to come from? This also his Majesty provided, with the help of his ministers and of the Jesuits, who were deeply engaged in the scheme. He sent out whole ship-loads of young women under the care of certain devoted ladies and nuns, which women, on their arrival, were sorted out in different rooms, according to their quality—the peasant girls in one, the young ladies in another—and the bachelors were not only invited but required to choose wives from among their number, according to their degree. The young women themselves had no choice in the matter, except that the peasant girls were sometimes allowed to go out as servants in the families of such married people as were able to keep them, but the arrangement was not greatly approved.