The Rendezvous at the Forge
Beside the forge-fire stood Grul. On his left arm was perched Philip,
half wrapped in the black-and-yellow cloak, and playing with Grul's
white wand. At the back of the forge, fettered to the wall, and with
his hands bound behind him, stood the black form of our adversary.
Grul was heaving upon the bellows, and in the fierce white glow of the
coal stuck a number of irons heating. These he turned and twisted with
fantastic energy, now and then drawing one forth and brandishing it
with a kind of mad glee, so as best to show the intensity of its
colour; and whenever he did so little Philip shouted with delight.
The joy that surged through my breast as I took in all this astonishing
turn of affairs, was something which I have no words to tell of.
"Mary, Mother of Heaven, be praised for this!" I cried fervently.
"What will he do with irons?" queried Big Etienne, with a curiously
startled note in his voice.
Indeed, what now followed was sufficiently startling. Grul had caught
sight of us. Immediately he set the child down, heaved twice or thrice
mightily upon the bellows, and then drew from the fire two white-hot
rods of iron. With these, one in each hand, he approached the Black
Abbe, treading swiftly and sinuously like a panther. I darted forward,
chilled with sudden horror. A short scream of mortal fear came from
the wretched captive's lips.
"Stop! stop!" I shouted, as those terrible brands went circling hither
and thither about the cringing form. The next instant, and ere I could
reach the scene to interfere, the Abbe gave a huge bound, reached the
door, and plunged out into the snow, pursued by a peal of wild laughter
from Grul's lips. This most whimsical of madmen had befooled his
captive, in much the same fashion as once before on the cliff beside
the des Saumons. He had used the deadly iron merely to free him from
his bonds, and again held in reserve his full vengeance.
Fetching a huge breath of relief, I joined in Grul's mocking laughter;
while Big Etienne gave a grunt of manifest dissatisfaction. As for the
Black Abbe, though the sweat of his terror stood in beads upon his
forehead, he recovered his composure marvellously. Having run some
dozen paces he stopped, turned, and gazed steadily upon Grul for
perhaps the space of a full minute. Then, sweeping a scornful glance
across the child, the Indian, and myself, he half opened his lips to
speak. But if he judged himself not then best ready to speak with
dignity,--let no one marvel at that. He changed his purpose, folded
his arms across his breast, and strode off slowly and in silence along
the track toward Grand Pre.
I thought his shadow, as it fell long and sinister across the snow, lay
blacker than was the common wont of shadows.
Big Etienne was already within, and Philip in his arms. As I entered
the forge door Grul cried solemnly, as if to extenuate his act in
freeing the prisoner:--
"His cup is not yet full."
Seizing both his hands in mine, I tried with stammering lips to thank
him; but, something to my chagrin, he cut me short most ungraciously.
Snatching his hands away, he stepped outside the door, and raised his
thrilling, bell-like chant:--
"Woe, woe to Acadie the Fair, for the day of her desolation cometh."
Beyond all words though my gratitude was, I could not refrain from
shrugging my shoulders at this fantastic mummery, as I turned to
embrace little Philip. My heart was rioting with joy and hope, and I
could not trouble my wits with these mad whimsies of Grul's. When he
had quit prophesying and come again within the forge, I tried to draw
from him some account of how he had so achieved the child's rescue and
the Black Abbe's utter discomfiture. But he wandered from the matter,
whether wilfully or not I could by no means decide; and presently,
catching a ghost of a smile on the face of Big Etienne, I gave up and
rested thankful for what I had got. As for Philip, he was amiably
gracious to both Big Etienne and myself, but it was manifest that all
his little heart had gone out to Grul; and the two were presently
playing together in a corner of the forge, at some game which none but
themselves could understand.
It wanted yet an hour of noon, when, as I stood in the door consuming
my heart with impatience, yet unwilling to go and meet Mizpah and so
mar the climax which I had plotted for, I caught sight of two figures
approaching. I needed not eyes to tell me one was Mizpah, for the
blood shook in all my veins at sight of her. The other was Father
Fafard.
"Marc," said I to myself, "is not yet strong enough to venture so far;
and the maid Prudence has stayed with him. But Mizpah is here--Mizpah
is here!"
With eyes of delight I dwelt upon her tall, slim form, in its gown of
blue woollen cloth which set off so rarely the red-gold enchantment of
her hair. But when she was come near enough for me to mark the eager
welcome in her eyes and on her lips, I waved at her, clumsily enough,
and turned within to catch at a little self-possession. Not having my
snow-shoes on, I could not be expected to go and meet her; and that
waiting in the doorway was too much for me to endure.
"Keep Philip behind the chimney, out of sight," I whispered eagerly to
Grul; and somewhat to my wonder he obeyed.
On the next instant Mizpah stood in the door, smiling upon me, her face
all aglow with expectation and greeting; and I found myself clasping
both of her white hands. But my tongue refused to speak,--deeming,
perchance, that my eyes were usurping its office.
Finding at length a word of welcome for the good priest, I wrung his
hand fervently, then turned again to Mizpah.
But my first speech was stupid,--so stupid that I wished most heartily
that I had held my tongue.
"Comrade," said I, "this is a glad day for me."
Her face fell, and her eyes reproached me.
"Because you have defeated and slain my people?" she asked.
My face grew hot for the flat ineptitude of my words.
"No! no! Not for that!" I cried passionately, "but for _this_!"
And I turned to snatch Philip from his corner behind the chimney.
But Grul was too quick for me. He could play no second part at any
time, he. Evading my hands, he slipped past me, and himself placed the
child in Mizpah's arms.
I cursed inwardly at his abruptness, though in truth he had done just
what I was intending to do myself. As Mizpah, with a gasping cry,
crushed the little one to her bosom, she went white as a ghost and
tottered against the anvil. I sprang to support her, but withheld my
arm ere it touched her waist, for even on the instant she had recovered
herself. With wordless mother-cries she kissed Philip's lips and hair,
and buried her face in his neck, he the while clinging to her as if
never again for a moment could he let her go.
Presently, while I waited in great hunger for a word, she turned to Big
Etienne and Grul.
"My friends!" she cried, in a shaken voice which faithfully uttered her
heart, "my true and loyal friends!" Whereupon she wrung their hands,
and wrung them, and would have spoken further but that her voice failed
her.
Then, after a moment or two, she turned to me,--yet not wholly.
The paleness had by this well vanished, and her eyes, those great
sea-coloured eyes, which she would not lift to mine, were running over
with tears. Philip took one sturdy little arm from her neck, and
stretched out his hand to me; but I ignored the invitation.
"And what--what have you got for me, Mizpah?" I asked, in a very low
voice, indeed--a voice perhaps not just as steady as that of a noted
bush-fighter is supposed to be at a crisis.
The flush grew, deepening down along the clear whiteness of her neck,
and she half put out one hand to me.
"Do you want thanks?" she asked softly.
"You _know_ what I want,--what I have wanted above all else in life
from the moment my eyes fell upon you!" I cried with a great passion,
grown suddenly forgetful of Grul and Big Etienne, who doubtless found
my emotion more or less interesting.
For a second or two Mizpah made no answer. Then she lifted her face,
gave me one swift look straight in the eyes,--a look that told me all I
longed to know,--and suddenly, with a little laugh that was mostly a
sob, put Philip into my arms.
[Illustration: Suddenly, with a little laugh that was mostly a sob, put
Philip into my arms.]
"There!" she whispered, dropping her eyes.
And by some means it so came about that, as I took the child, my arms
held Mizpah also.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The Forge in the Forest, by Charles G. D. Roberts