determination Dugald braced himself to the contest. He made a brave
fight; but wherever there was a doubtful point at issue, the Court
Invisible ruled inexorably and without a scruple against the possessor
of the "Eye of Gluskâp." When he was harvesting his first crop of hay
off the new dike--and a fine crop it seemed likely to be--the rains set
in with a persistence that at length reduced the windrows to a condition
of flavorless gray straw. Dugald McIntyre set his jaws grimly together,
took good hay from another meadow to mix with the ruined crop, and by a
discreet construction of his bundles succeeded in selling the whole lot
at a good price to his most gracious Majesty's government at Halifax.
This bold stroke seemed to daunt the Fates for a time, and while they
were recovering from their confusion affairs went bravely with Dugald.
When haying season came round again the weather kept favorable, and the
hay was all harvested in perfect shape. Dugald was much too prudent to
boast; but in his innermost heart he indulged a smile of triumph. That
night his barns and outbuildings were burned to the ground, and two fine
horses with them; and his house was saved hardly. This was too much even
for him. Refusing to play longer a losing game, he sold the "New Marsh"
at some sacrifice to a settler who laughed at superstition. This
sceptical philosopher, however, proved open to conviction. A twelvemonth
later he was ready almost to give the land away, and the "Eye of
Gluskâp" with it. For a mere song the rich and smiling tract, carrying a
heavy crop just ready for the scythe, was purchased by a young New
Englander with an admirable instinct for business. This young man went
to Halifax and mortgaged the land and crop to their full value; and with
the cash he left to seek his fortune. Thus the "Eye of Gluskâp," and the
Marsh with it, came into the possession of a widow of great wealth, on
whom the spell, it seemed, was of none effect. Her heirs were in
England, and it came to pass, in the course of a generation, that Grand
Pré knew not the owners of the fated Marsh, and could not tell what
troubles, if any, were falling upon the possessors of "The Star."
Nevertheless the star kept up its gleaming, a steady eye of violet under
the sunsets, a ray of icy pallor when the large moon neared her setting;
and at length it was discovered that the enchanted jewel had yet other
periods of manifestation. Belated wayfarers, on stormy December nights,
had caught the unearthly eye-beam when no other light could be seen in
earth or sky. When this took place the tide was always near about the
full, and beating hoarsely all along the outer dykes. Then would be
heard, between the pauses of the wind, the rattle of oars at the mouth
of the creek, and the creaking of ships' cordage, and anon the sound of
children crying with the cold. If voices came from the spot where the
"New Marsh" lay unseen and the "Star" shone coldly watchful, they were
for the most part in a tongue which the wayfarers could not understand.
But now and again, some said, there were orders spoken in English, and
then the clank of arms and the tramp of marching feet. Of course these
things were held in question by many of the settlers, but there were
none so hardy as to suffer themselves to be caught upon the "New Marsh"
after nightfall. "The Eye of Gluskâp" discerned a supernatural terror in
many a heart that claimed renown for courage.
III.
A hundred years had rolled down the hillsides of the Gaspereau and out
across the Minas tides into the fogs and hollows of the past; and still
the patch of dyked land at the creek's mouth was lit by the unsearchable
lustre of the "Eye of Gluskâp."
As for the various distinguished scientists who undertook to unravel the
mystery, either much study had made them blind, or the lights were
unpropitious; for not one of them ever attained to a vision of the
violet gleam. They went away with laughter on their lips.
One spring there came to Grand Pré a young Englishman named Desbra, a
long-limbed, ample-chested youth, with whitish hair and ruddy skin, and
clear, straightforward blue eyes. Desbra was resolved to learn farming
in a new country, so he bought an old farm on the uplands, with an
exhausted orchard, and was for a time surprised at the infertility of
the soil.
Gradually he made himself master of the situation, and of some more
desirable acres, and also, incidentally it seemed, of the affections of
a maiden who lived not far from Grand Pré.
Dugald McIntyre had prospered again when the "Eye of Gluskâp" no longer
looked malignantly on his fortunes; and to his descendants he had left
one of the finest properties within view of Blomidon. It was Jessie
McIntyre, his great-grandchild, who had captured the heart of young
Desbra.
One rosy September afternoon, as Jessie stood in the porch where the
wild grapes clustered half ripe, the young Englishman came swinging his
long legs up the slope, sprang over the fence between the apple trees,
and caught the maiden gleefully in his arms.
"Congratulate me, Mistress McIntyre," he cried, as the girl pushed him
away in mock disapproval. "I have just made a bargain,--a famous
bargain,--a thing I never did before in my life."
"Good boy," replied Jessie, standing a-tip-toe to pat the pale brush of
her lover's well-cropped hair. "Good boy, we'll make a Blue Nose of you
yet! And what is this famous bargain, may I ask?"
"Why, I've just bought what so many of your fellow-countrymen call the
'Noo Ma'sh,'" answered Desbra. "I have got it for twenty dollars an
acre, and it's worth a hundred any day! I've got the deed, and the
thing's an accomplished fact."
Jessie looked grave, and removed herself from her lover's embrace in
order to lend impressiveness to her words. "Oh, Jack, Jack!" she said,
"you don't know what you have done! You have become a man of Destiny,
which I don't believe you want to be at all. You have bought the 'Star.'
You have made yourself the master of the 'Witch's Stone.' You have
summoned the 'Eye of Gluskâp' to keep watch upon you critically. In
fact, it would take a long time to tell you all you have done. But one
thing more you must do,--you must get rid of that famous bargain of
yours without delay. I'm not superstitious, Jack, but truly in this case
I am disturbed. Bad luck, horrid bad luck, has always befallen any man
owning that piece of Marsh, for the Marsh contains the Witch's Stone,
and a spell is on the man that possesses that fatal jewel."
Jack Desbra laughed and recaptured the maiden. "All right," said he, "if
a man mustn't possess it, I shall give it away to a woman! How will that
suit you, my lady?"
Jessie looked dubious, but said anything would be better than for him to
keep it himself. Whereupon the young man continued: "Put on your hat,
then, and come down into the village with me, and I will forthwith
transfer the property, with all appurtenances thereof, to Jessie
McIntyre, spinster, of the parish of Grand Pré, County of Kings,
Province of Nova Scotia, in her Majesty's Dominion of Canada; and the
'Eye of Gluskâp' will find something better to keep watch upon than me!"
To this proposal Miss Jessie, being in the main a very level-headed
young lady, in spite of her little superstitions, assented without
demur, and the two proceeded to the village.
On the way thither and back, Desbra learned all the history of the "Star
on the Marsh," as I have endeavored to unfold it in the preceding pages.
As it happened, however, there was no mention of Pierrot Desbarat's
surname in Jessie's account. Marie Beaugrand she spoke of, but Marie's
_fiancé_, the last finder of the amethyst, she simply called Pierrot.
"But have you yourself ever seen the sinister glory you describe?" asked
Desbra, as they neared the McIntyre home. Jessie's story had interested
him keenly. He was charmed with the tale as constituting at least a
notable bit of folk-lore.
"Of course I've seen it," replied Jessie, almost petulantly. "I dare say
I can show it to you now. Let us go to the top of the hill yonder, where
that old poplar stands up all by itself. That tree is a relic of the
Acadians, and the 'Eye' watches it, I fancy, when it has nothing better
to look at!"
When the lovers reached the hill-top and paused beside the ancient and
decaying poplar, the sun had just gone down behind North Mountain, and a
sombre splendor flooded the giant brow of Blomidon. The girl pointed
toward the mouth of the creek. Desbra could not restrain a cry of
astonishment. From just inside the dike, in a deep belt of olive shadow,
came a pale, fine violet ray, unwavering and inexplicable. Presently he
remarked:--
"That is a fine gem of yours, my dear; and if _I_ owned such a treasure
I shouldn't leave it lying around in that careless fashion. Who knows
what might happen to it, away down there on the New Marsh? What if a
gull, now, should come along and swallow it, to help him grind his fish
bones."
"Don't be silly, Jack!" said the girl, her eyes dilating as she watched
the mystic beam. "You know you don't half like the look of it yourself.
It makes you feel uncanny, and you're just talking nonsense to make
believe you don't think there is anything queer about it!"
"Quite the contrary, I assure you, O Mistress of the Witch Stone, O
Cynosure of the 'Eye of Gluskâp!'" answered Desbra. "I am, indeed, so
much impressed that I was taking pains to remind the Powers of the
transfer I have just effected! I desire to hide me from the 'Eye of
Gluskâp' by taking refuge behind a certain little spinster's
petticoats!"
There was a long silence, while Desbra kept gazing on the mystic gleam
as if fascinated. At last Jessie made a move as if she thought it time
to return to the house, whereupon the young man, waking out of his fit
of abstraction, said slowly:--
"Do you know, it seems to me now as if you had been telling me an old
story. I feel as if you had merely recalled to my memory incidents which
I had long forgotten. I remember it all now, with much that I think you
did not tell me. Looking at that strange point of light I have
seen,--_did_ you tell me anything of an old man dying in a boat and
being brought to shore just as Marie was leaving for the ship? That is a
scene that stands out upon my memory sharply now. And did you say
anything about an old priest? I saw him leaning over the side of the
boat and slipping something into Mane's sack."
"No," said Jessie, "I didn't tell you any of that, though it all
happened as you say. Let us go home, Jack, it frightens me terribly. Oh,
I wish you hadn't bought that Marsh!" and she clung trembling to the
young man's arm.
"But what can it mean?" persisted Desbra, as they descended the hill.
"Why should I think that I was there when it all happened,--that it all
happened to me, in fact? My grandmother was of French blood,--perhaps
Acadian blood, for my grandfather married her, in the West Indies. After
the exile the Acadians, you say, were scattered all over the face of the
New World! Can there be in my veins any of the blood of that unhappy
people?"
Jessie stopped short and looked up at her lover's face. "Why, your
name," she cried, "sounds as if it might have been French once!"
"My grandfather's name was Manners Sutton," responded Desbra, musing.
"My father had to take my grandfather's name to inherit some property in
Martinique. I, of course, pronounce my name in English fashion, but it
is spelled just as my father's was--D-e-s-b-r-a!"
As the young Englishman gave his name its French accent and
pronunciation, Jessie uttered a little cry of intelligence and wonder.
She looked at her lover a moment in silence, and then said very slowly,
very deliberately, pausing for every word to tell.
"The name of Marie's lover, the young man who found the 'Witch's Stone,'
was--Pierrot Desbarats! D-e-s-b-a-r-a-t-s. You are none other, Jack,
than the great-grandson of Marie and Pierrot."
"Truly," said Desbra, "when I come to think of it, the name was spelled
that way once upon a time!"
"Well, you shall _not_ be a man of Destiny, Jack!" exclaimed the girl.
"I won't have it! But as for me, that is another matter. We shall see if
the 'Eye of Gluskâp' has any malign influence over _me_!"
IV.
Early in December, having just returned to Grand Pré from their wedding
journey, Jack Desbra and his wife were standing one evening in a window
that looked out across the marshes and the Basin. It was a wild night. A
terrific wind had come up with the tide, and the waves raged in
thunderously all along the Minas Dykes. There was nothing visible
without, so thick was the loud darkness of the storm; but the young
Englishman had suggested that they should look to see if the "Star"
would shine a welcome to their home-coming.
"It is _my_ Star, remember, Jack," said his wife, "and it will be guilty
of no such irregularity as showing itself on a night like this."
"You forget, my lady," was the reply, "that the Star is now mine. The
Marsh has the Star, and my lady has the Marsh; but I have my lady, and
so possess all!"
"Oh, Jack," cried the girl, with a shudder, "there it is! I am sure
something will happen. Let us sell the Marsh to-morrow, dear; for now
that I belong to you I can no longer protect you from the spell. I had
forgotten that!"
"Very well," said Desbra, lightly, "if you say so, we'll sell
to-morrow."
As the two stood locked in each other's arms, and straining their eyes
into the blackness, the violet ray gathered intensity, and almost seemed
to reveal, by fits, the raving turmoil of the rapidly mounting tide.
In a few moments Desbra became absorbed, as it were, in a sort of waking
dream. His frank, merry, almost boyish countenance took on a new
expression, and his eyes assumed the strange, far-focused steadfastness
of the seer's. His wife watched, with a growing awe which she could not
shake off, the change in her husband's demeanor; and the fire-light in
the cheerful room died away unnoticed.
At last the girl could bear no longer the ghostly silence, and that
strange look in her husband's face. "What do you see, Jack?" she cried.
"What do you see? Oh, how terribly it shines!"
When Desbra replied, she hardly recognized his voice.
"I see many ships," said he, slowly, and as if he heard not the sound of
his own words. "They sail in past Blomidon. They steer for the mouths of
the Canard and Gaspereau. Some are already close at hand. The strange
light of the 'Eye of Gluskâp,' is on the sails of all. From somewhere I
hear voices singing, '_Nos bonnes gens reviendront._' The sound of it
comes beating on the wind. Hark! how it swells over the marshes!"
"I do not hear anything, Jack, dear, except these terrible gusts that
cry past the corners of the house," said Jessie, tremulously.
"How light it grows upon the New Marsh, now!" continued her husband, in
the same still voice. "The 'Eye' shines everywhere. I hear no more the
children crying with the cold; but on the Marsh I see an old man
standing. He is waiting for the ships. He waves his stick exultantly to
welcome them. I know him,--it is old Remi Corveau. They told me he died
and was buried when the ships sailed away from Grand Pré.
"There comes a great ship heading for Long Island shoal. Cannot the
captain see how the waves break furiously before him? No ship will live
a moment that strikes the shoal to-night. She strikes! God have--No! she
sails straight through the breakers!--and not three feet of water on the
shoal!
"Two ships have reached the creek," continued Desbra, speaking more
rapidly. "How the violet light shines through their sails! How crowded
the decks are! All the faces are turned toward shore, with laughter and
with streaming eyes, and hands outstretched to the fields of Grand Pré.
I know the faces. There is Evangeline, and there is Jaques Le May,--but
why don't they drop anchor? They will ground if they come any nearer
shore! And in this sea--Merciful Heaven, they are on the dikes! They
strike--and the dike goes down before them! The great white waves throng
in behind them--the Marsh is buried--and the light goes out!"
The young man started back and put his hand to his eyes, as if awaking
from a dream. He caught the sound of his wife's sobbing, and, throwing
both arms about her, he stooped to kiss her hair, which gleamed in the
dark.
"What's the matter, darling?" he whispered, anxiously. "And what has
become of our fire?"
"Oh, Jack, you have frightened me so!" replied the girl. "You have been
dreaming or in a trance, and seeing dreadful things that I could not see
at all! I could see nothing but that hateful 'Eye,' which has been
shining as if all the fires of hell were in it. Come away! we will sell
the Marsh to-morrow at _any_ price!"
"But, dear," said Desbra, "the Star has gone out! There is not a sign of
it to be seen. All outside is black as Egypt. Look!"
Reluctantly the girl turned toward the window. She gave a little cry.
"That's just what you said a minute ago!" she exclaimed. "You said 'the
light goes out,' and then you came to yourself. I believe the dike is
washed away!"
"Well," said Desbra, "we'll see to-morrow." And they drew the curtains
and lit the lamps and stirred the fire to a blaze; and between the
shriekings of the wind they heard the roar of the breakers, trampling
the low and naked coast.
When morning broke over the Gaspereau hills, and men looked out of their
windows, every vestige of the dike that had inclosed the New Marsh was
gone. The site of the Marsh was much eaten away, and a bank of sand was
piled at the other side of the creek, near the mouth, in such a way as
to divert the channel many feet from its old course.
Thereafter the tides foamed in and out with daily and nightly clamor
across the spot where the "Star on the Marsh" had gleamed; and men made
no new effort to reclaim the ruined acres.
THE END.
End of Project Gutenberg's Earth's Enigmas, by Charles G. D. Roberts