The Frenchman was overcome with stolid dismay when Vesper briefly bade him good-by, and going to the barn door, he stared regretfully after him.
Mirabelle Marie, in blissful unconsciousness of the sudden departure, went on with her bed-making, but Bidiane, through the crack in the roof, saw him go, and in childish contradiction of spirit shed tears of anger and disappointment at the sight.
[CHAPTER XXI.]
A SUPREME ADIEU.
"How reads the riddle of our life,
That mortals seek immortal joy,
That pleasures here so quickly cloy,
And hearts are e'en with yearnings rife?
That love's bright morn no midday knows,
And darkness comes ere even's close,
And fondest hopes bear seeds of strife.
"Let fools deride; Faith's God-girt breast
Their puny shafts can turn aside,
And mock with these their sin-born pride.
Our souls were made for God the Best;
'Tis He alone can satisfy
Their every want, can still each cry;
In Him alone shall they find rest."
Cornelius O'Brien, Archbishop of Halifax.
The night was one of velvety softness, and the stars, as if suspecting his mission, blinked delicately and discreetly down upon him, while Vesper, who knew every step of the way, went speeding down the Bay with a wildly beating heart.
Several Acadiens recognized him as he swept past them on the road, but he did not stop to parley with them, for he wished to reach Yarmouth as soon as possible. His brain was tortured, and it seemed to him that, at every revolution of his wheels, a swift, subtle temptation assaulted him more insidiously and more fiercely. He would pass right by the Sleeping Water Inn. Why should he not pause there for a few minutes and make some arrangement with Rose about Narcisse, who was still in Boston? He certainly had a duty to perform towards the child. Would it not be foolish for him to pass by the mother's door without speaking to her of him? What harm could there be in a conversation of five minutes' duration?