My fear hath catch'd your fondness--
* * * * *
Speak, is't so?
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue;
If it be not, foreswear't: howe'er, I charge thee,
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail,
To tell me truly.
SHAKSPEARE.
Arthur Stanhope's protracted stay at St. John's, occasioned much
discontent and repining among the crew of his vessel. Many of them
became weary of their inactive life, and impatient to be restored to the
friends and occupations they had left; while the laxity of the French
soldiers,--the open celebration of popish ceremonies,--the very
appearance of the priest,--excited the indignation of the more rigid and
reflecting. The daily exhortations of Mad. de la Tour's chaplain were
not calculated to allay these irritated feelings. One of the most
austere of the Scotch dissenters, Mr. Broadhead, had been induced, by
religious zeal, to follow the fortunes of his patron, Sir William
Alexander, who, in 1621, received a grant of Acadia, or Nova Scotia,
and established the first permanent settlement in that country. It had,
till then, been alternately claimed and neglected, both by French and
English; and he was, a few years after, induced to relinquish his grant
to La Tour, whose title was confirmed by a patent from the king of
England.
La Tour, in forming this settlement, was influenced principally by
motives of interest; his colony was composed of adventurers from
different nations, and it seemed a matter of indifference to him, to
what master he owed allegiance. By the well-known treaty of St.
Germain's, Acadia was ceded to the crown of France, on which it alone
depended, till finally conquered by the English, when, at a much later
period, its improvement and importance rendered it more worthy of
serious contest. The policy of the French government, while it remained
under their jurisdiction, induced them to attempt the conversion of the
native tribes, as a means of advancing their own interest, and retarding
the influence of the English colonies. For this purpose, they sent out
Catholic missionaries, at an early period, to the different settlements;
and Jesuits were particularly employed, as the address and subtlety
which always distinguished that order of priests peculiarly fitted them
for the difficult task of christianizing the idolatrous savages. Their
power was slowly progressive; but, in time, they acquired an ascendancy,
which was extended to the minutest of the secular, as well as spiritual
concerns of the province.
The puritans of New-England regarded these dangerous neighbors with
distrust and fear; nor could they restrain their indignation, when the
emblems of the Romish church were planted on the very borders of their
territory. The haughty carriage, which La Tour at first assumed,
increased their aversion, and, in their weakness, rendered him justly
dreaded. He prohibited the English from trading with the natives, to the
east of Pemaquid, on authority from the king of France; and, when
desired to shew his commission, arrogantly answered, "that his sword was
sufficient, while it could overcome, and when that failed, he would find
some other means to prove and defend his right." The rival, and at
times, superior power of D'Aulney, however, at length reduced these
lofty pretensions, till he was finally obliged to sue for the favor,
which he had once affected to despise.
Mr. Broadhead, glad to escape the storms of his native country, remained
through all these changes of government and religion, and, at last,
found an unmolested station in the household of Mad. de la Tour. His
spirit, indeed, was often vexed by La Tour's indifference towards the
protestant cause, which he pretended to favor; and, even with horror, he
sometimes beheld him returning from the ceremonials of the papal church.
The presence of the priests, also, about the fort, was a constant
annoyance to him, and he seldom encountered one of them, without a
clashing of words, which, occasionally, required the interference of La
Tour, or his lady. In his zeal for proselytism, he seized every
opportunity to harangue the Catholic soldiers; and his wrath, at what he
termed their idolatry, was commonly exhausted in indiscriminate
invectives, against every ceremony and doctrine of their religion.
Frequent tumults were the result of these collisions, though restrained
in some measure by the commands of Mad. de la Tour, who exacted the
utmost respect towards her chaplain; and La Tour, himself, found it
necessary to use his authority, in preventing such dangerous
excitements. He was, therefore, compelled to retire within his own
immediate sphere of duty, and, however grieved and irritated by the
prevalence of error around him, he in time learned to repress his
feelings, at least in the presence of those, to whom they could give
offence.
The arrival of a New-England vessel at St. John's, opened to Mr.
Broadhead a more extensive field of labor; and he soon found many who
listened with avidity to his complaints, and joined in his censures, of
the conduct and principles of La Tour. His asperity was soothed by the
sympathy he received from them; and without intending to injure the
interests of his lord, his representations naturally weakened their
confidence in him; and many began seriously to repent engaging in a
cause, which they had espoused in a moment of enthusiasm, and without
due consideration.
Arthur Stanhope, absorbed by one engrossing passion, had no leisure to
mark the progress of this growing discontent; and his frequent absence
from the vessel, which gave an appearance of alienation from their
interest and concerns, increased the dissatisfaction of his people. It
was, therefore, with equal surprise and displeasure, that he at length
discovered their change of feeling, and received from a large majority a
decided refusal to enter into any new engagements with La Tour. Their
term of duty, they alleged, had already expired,--they were not
satisfied with the proposed expedition, and would no longer remain in
fellowship with the adherents of an idolatrous church. Anger,
remonstrance, and persuasion, were equally ineffectual to change their
determination. Their enlistment was voluntary, and they had already
effected the object for which they engaged; they, therefore, considered
themselves released from further orders, and at liberty to return to
their homes; and, with a stern, yet virtuous resolution, they declared,
their consciences could not be bribed by all the gold of France.
Stanhope, vexed at a result which he had so little anticipated, and
conscious that he had, in reality, no control over them, for his command
was merely nominal, was glad to secure the services of the few who still
adhered to him, and to compromise with the remainder. With some
difficulty, he prevailed on them to continue at the fort till he
returned from Penobscot, consenting to abandon his vessel to their
use,--for they were not willing to mingle with the garrison,--and embark
himself, with as many of his own men as chose to accompany him, and a
few Scots, in a smaller one of La Tour's, which could be immediately
prepared for the voyage, and was better adapted to their reduced
numbers.
This alteration occasioned some delay; and La Tour's impatience was,
more than once, vented in imprecations on the individuals, whose sense
of duty interfered with his selfish projects. An adverse wind detained
them a day or two, after every arrangement was completed; but so great
was La Tour's eagerness to depart, that he embarked at sun-set, on the
first appearance of a favourable change, hoping to weigh anchor by the
dawn of day, or sooner, should the night prove clear, and the wind shift
to the desired point. Stanhope remonstrated against this haste, as his
nautical experience led him to apprehend evil from it; the clouds which
for some time had boded an approaching storm, indeed, seemed passing
away; but dark masses still lingered in the horizon, and the turbid
waters of the bay assumed that calm and sullen aspect, which so often
precedes a tempest. But La Tour was obstinate in his resolution; and, as
it was important that the vessels should sail in company, Stanhope
yielded to his solicitations, and left the fort with that dreariness of
heart, which ever attends the moment of parting from those we love.
Mad. de la Tour, soon after her husband's departure, passed the gate, on
a visit of charity to a neighboring cottage. The long summer twilight
was deepening on the hills, as she returned; and, with surprise, she
observed Luciè loitering among a tuft of trees, which grow near the
water's edge, at a short distance from her path. Believing she had come
out to seek her, Mad. la Tour approached the spot where she stood; but
Luciè's attention was wholly engaged by a light boat which had just
pushed from the shore, and rapidly neared the vessel of Arthur Stanhope,
which lay at anchor below the fort. She could not identify the only
person which it contained, but a suspicion that it was Stanhope,
instantly crossed her mind. Suppressing her vexation, Mad. la Tour
addressed Luciè;--she started, and a crimson glow suffused her face, as
she looked up and met the eyes of her aunt, fixed inquiringly on her.
"You are abroad at an unusual hour this evening, Luciè," said Mad. de la
Tour, without appearing to notice her confusion.
"Yes, later than I was aware," she answered, with some hesitation; "I
have been to Annette's cottage, and was accidentally detained on my
return."
"Accidentally!" repeated Mad. de la Tour, with a look which again
crimsoned the cheek of Luciè; "you were not detained by any ill tidings,
I trust, though your tearful eyes betray emotions, which, you know, I
love you too well to witness, without a wish to learn the cause."
"How can you ask the cause, dear aunt, when we have just parted from so
many friends, whose absence, and probable danger, cannot but leave us
anxious and dejected!"
"You were not wont to indulge a gloomy or anxious spirit, Luciè; and why
should you _now_ yield to it? Nay, but an hour or two since, you parted
with apparent composure from all; and what has since happened to
occasion this regret? and why should you conceal it from me, who have so
long been your friend and confidant?"
"From _you_, dear aunt, I would conceal nothing; you have a right to
know every thought and wish of my heart; but"--
"But what?" asked Mad. la Tour, as she hesitated; "answer me one
question, Luciè; has not Mr. Stanhope but just now quitted you?"
"He has," said Luciè, deeply blushing, though her ingenuous countenance
told that she was relieved from a painful reserve; "and now all is known
to you,--all,--and more, perhaps, than I ought, at present, to have
revealed."
"More, far more, than you ought ever to have had it in your power to
reveal!" said Mad. de la Tour, in an accent of displeasure; "and it is
for this stranger that you have slighted the wishes of your natural
guardians,--that you have rejected the love of one, in every respect
worthy of your choice!"
"Those wishes were inconsistent with my duty," returned Luciè; "and that
love I could never recompense! Dearest aunt," she added, and the tears
again filled her eyes, "forgive me in this one instance; it is the only
thought of my heart, which has been concealed from you; and, believe me,
_this_ was concealed, only to save yourself and me from reproaches,
which, were I now mistress of my actions, I should not fear to meet."
"Rather say, Luciè, it was concealed to suit the wishes of your lover;
but is it honorable in him to seek your affections clandestinely? to
bind you by promises, which are unsanctioned by your friends?"
"You are unjust to him," said Luciè, eagerly; "you suspect him of a
meanness, which he could never practice. I only am to blame for whatever
is wrong and secret. He has never wished to disguise his attachment, and
you were not slow to detect and regret it; he was encouraged by my dear
aunt Rossville, but circumstances separated us, and I scarcely dared
hope that we should ever meet again"--
"But you _did_ meet," interrupted Mad. de la Tour, "and why all this
mystery and reserve?"
"I dreaded my uncle's anger," said Luciè: "and persuaded Stanhope,
against his inclination, to leave me without any explanation to my
guardian, till the time arrives when I shall be at liberty to choose for
myself; and till then, I have refused to enter into any
engagements,--except those which my heart has long since made, and which
nothing ever can dissolve."
"To me, at least, Luciè, you might have confided this; you would not
have found me arbitrary or tyrannical, and methinks, the advice of an
experienced friend would not have been amiss on a subject of such
importance."
"I well know your lenity and affection, dear aunt," returned Luciè; "but
I was most unwilling to involve you in my difficulties, and expose you
to my uncle's displeasure; in time, all would have been known to you; I
should have taken no important step without your advice; and why should
I perplex you, with what could now be of no avail?"
"I am willing to believe you _intended_ to do right, Luciè, though I am
not yet convinced that you _have_ done so; but we are near the gate, and
will dismiss the subject till another opportunity."
Luciè gladly assented, and their walk was pursued in silence.