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Bent like a
labouring oar, that toils in the surf of the ocean,
Bent, but not broken, by age was the form of the notary
public;
Shocks of yellow hairs, like the silken floss
of the maize, hung
Over his shoulders; his forehead
was high; and glasses with horn bows
Sat astride on
his nose, with a look of wisdom supernal.
Father of
twenty children was he, and more than a hundred
Children's children rode on his knee, and heard his
great watch tick.
Four long years in the times of the
war had he languished a captive,
Suffering much in an
old French fort as the friend of the English.
Now,
though warier grown, without all guile or suspicion,
Ripe in wisdom was he, but patient, and simple, and
childlike.
He was beloved by all, and most of all by
the children;
For he told them tales of the
Loup-garou in the forest,
And of the goblin that came
in the night to water the horses,
And of the white
Letiche, the ghost of a child who unchristened
Died,
and was doomed to haunt unseen the chambers of children;
And how on Christmas eve the oxen talked in the stable,
And how the fever was cured by a spider shut up in a
nutshell,
And of the marvelous powers of four-leaved
clover and horseshoes,
With whatsoever else was writ
in the lore of the village.
Then up rose from his
seat by the fireside Basil the blacksmith,
Knocked
from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending his right
hand,
"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 demeanor 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 am I 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 irascrible blacksmith;
"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
When as a captive I lay in the old French
fort at Port Royal."
This was the old man's favorite
tale, and he loved to repeat it
When his neighbors
complained that any injustice was done them.
"Once in
an ancient city, whose name I no longer remember,
Raised aloft on a column, a brazen statue of Justice
Stood in the public square, upholding the scales in its
left hand,
And in its right a sword, as an emblem
that justice presided
Over the laws of the land, and
the hearts and homes of the people.
Even the birds
had built their nests in the scales of the balance,
Having no fear of the sword that flashed in the sunshine
above them.
But in the course of time the laws of the
land were corrupted;
Might took the place of right,
and the weak were oppressed, and the mighty
Ruled
with an iron rod. Then it chanced in a nobleman's palace
That a necklace of pearls was lost, and ere long a
suspicion
Fell on an orphan girl who lived as maid in
the household.
She, after form of trial condemned to
die on the scaffold,
Patiently met her doom at the
foot of the statue of Justice.
As to her Father in
heaven her innocent spirit ascended,
Lo! o'er the
city a tempest rose; and the bolts of the thunder
Smote the statue of bronze, and hurled in wrath from its
left hand
Down on the pavement below the clattering
scales of the balance,
And in the hollow thereof was
found the nest of a magpie,
Into whose clay-built
walls the necklace of pearls was inwoven."
Silenced,
but not convinced, when the story was ended, the
blacksmith
Stood like a man who fain would speak, but
findeth no language;
All his thoughts were congealed
into lines on his face, as the vapors
Freeze in
fantastic shapes on the window-panes in the winter.
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-Pre;
While from
his pocket the notary drew his papers and inkhorn,
Wrote with a steady hand the date and the age of the
parties,
Naming the dower of the bride in flocks of
sheep and in cattle.
Orderly all things proceeded,
and duly and well were completed,
And the great seal
of the law was set like a sun on the margin.
Then
from his leathern pouch the farmer threw on the table
Three times the old man's fee in solid pieces of silver;
And the notary rising, and blessing the bride and
bridegroom,
Lifted aloft the tankard of ale and drank
to their welfare.
Wiping the foam from his lip, he
solemnly bowed and departed,
While in silence the
others sat and mused by the fireside,
Till Evangeline
brought the draught-board out of its corner.
Soon was
the game begun. In friendly contention the old men
Laughed at each lucky hit, or unsuccessful manoeuvre,
Laughed when a man was crowned, or a breach was made in
the king-row.
Meanwhile apart, in the twilight gloom
of a window's embrasure,
Sat the lovers and whispered
together, beholding the moon rise
Over the pallid sea
and the silvery mist of the meadows.
Silently one by
one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
Blossomed the
lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of the angels.
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 doorstep
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.
Soon with a soundless step
the foot of Evangeline followed.
Up the staircase
moved a luminous space in the darkness,
Lighted less
by the lamp than the shining face of the maiden.
Silent she passed through the hall, and entered the door
of her chamber.
Simple that chamber was, with its
curtains of white, and its clothes-press
Ample and
high, on whose spacious shelves were carefully folded
Linen and woolen stuffs, by hand of Evangeline woven.
This was the precious dower she would bring to her
husband in marriage,
Better than flocks and herds,
being proofs of her skill as a housewife.
Soon she
extinguished her lamp, for the mellow and radiant
moonlight
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 moonlight
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.
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