And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was with him. "Welcome!" the farmer exclaimed, as their footsteps paused on the threshold, "Welcome, Basil, my friend! Come, take thy place on the settle Close by the chimney-side, which is always empty without thee; Take from the shelf overhead thy pipe and the box of tobacco: Never so much thy self art thou, as when through the curling Smoke of the pipe or the forge thy friendly and jovial face gleams Round and red as the harvest-moon through the mist of the marshes." Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the blacksmith, Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe." tinued : "Four days now are passed since the English ships at their anchors Ride in the Gaspereau's mouth, with their cannon pointed against us. What their design may be is unknown; but all are commanded On the morrow to meet in the church, where his Majesty's mandate Will be proclaimed as law in the land. Alas! In the meantime Many surmises of evil alarm the hearts of the people." Then made answer the farmer:-"Perhaps some friendlier pur pose Brings these ships to our shores. Perhaps the harvests in England By the untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted, And from our bursting barns they would feed their cattle and children." "Not so thinketh the folk in the village," said, warmly, the blacksmith, Shaking his head, as in doubt; then, heaving a sigh, he continued: "Luisburg is not forgotten, nor Beau Séjour, nor Port Royal. mower." Then with a pleasant smile made answer the jovial farmer :"Safer are we unarmed, in the midst of our flocks and our cornfields, Safer within these peaceful dikes, besieged by the ocean, Than were our fathers in forts, besieged by the enemy's cannon. Fear no evil, my friend, and to-night may no shadow of sorrow Fall on this house and hearth; for this is the night of the contract. Built are the house and the barn. The merry lads of the village Strongly have built them and well; and, breaking the glebe round about them, Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a twelvemonth. René Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and inkhorn. Shall we not, then, be glad, and rejoice in the joy of our children?" As apart by the window she stood, with her hand in her lover's, Blushing Evangeline heard the words that her father had spoken; And as they died on his lips the worthy notary entered. III. BENT like a labouring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean, Sat astride on his nose, with a look of wisdom supernal. "Father Leblanc," he exclaimed, "thou hast heard the talk in the village, And, perchance, canst tell us some news of these ships and their errand." Then with modest demeanour made answer the notary public: "Gossip enough have I heard, in sooth, yet am never the wiser; And what their errand may be I know not better than others. Yet I am not of those who imagine some evil intention Brings them here, for we are at peace; and why then molest us?" "God's name!" shouted the hasty and somewhat irascible black smith, "Must we in all things look for the how, and the why, and the wherefore? Daily injustice is done, and might is the right of the strongest." But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary public:"Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justice Triumphs and well I remember a story that often consoled me But in the course of time the laws of the land were corrupted; the mighty Ruled with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a nobleman's palace Stood like a man who fain would speak but findeth no language; Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table, Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home-brewed Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the village of Grand-Pré; While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and inkhorn, And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and the bridegroom, Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom of a window's embrasure, Thus passed the evening away. Anon the bell from the belfry Rang out the hour of nine, the village curfew, and straightway Rose the guests and departed; and silence reigned in the household. Many a farewell word and sweet good-night on the door-step Lingered long in Evangeline's heart, and filled it with gladness. Carefully then were covered the embers that glowed on the hearthstone, And on the oaken stairs resounded the tread of the farmer. chamber, Simple that chamber was, with its curtains of white, and its clothes press Ample and high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully folded marriage, Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a housewife. Soon she extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and radiant moon light Streamed through the windows, and lighted the room, till the heart of the maiden Swelled and obeyed its power, like the tremulous tides of the ocean. Ah! she was fair, exceeding fair to behold, as she stood with Naked snow-white feet on the gleaming floor of her chamber! Little she dreamed that below, among the trees of the orchard, Waited her lover, and watched for the gleam of her lamp and her shadow. Yet were her thoughts of him; and at times a feeling of sadness Passed o'er her soul, as the sailing shade of clouds in the moon light Flitted across the floor, and darkened the room for a moment. And as she gazed from the window she saw serenely the moon pass Forth from the folds of a cloud, and one star follow her footsteps, As out of Abraham's tent young Ishmael wandered with Hagar! IV. PLEASANTLY rose next morn the sun on the village of Grand-Pré, Pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air the Basin of Minas, Where the ships, with their wavering shadows, were riding at anchor. Life had long been astir in the village, and clamorous labour Knocked with its hundred hands at the golden gate of the morning. Now from the country around, from the farms and the neighbouring hamlets, Came in their holiday dresses the blythe Acadian peasants. Many a glad good-morrow and jocund laugh from the young folk Made the bright air brighter, as up from the numerous meadows, Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the greensward, Group after group appeared, and joined or passed on the highway. Long ere noon, in the village all sounds of labour were silenced. Thronged were the streets with people; and noisy groups at the house-doors Sat in the cheerful sun, and rejoiced and gossipped together. Bright was her face with smiles, and words of welcome and glad ness Fell from her beautiful lips, and blessed the cup as she gave it. |