"Yes, but to obtain news of her sister who flouts him. She is down the Bay, and Rose receives news of her. She will no longer drive with him if she hears this gossip."
"Why should she not?"
"I do not know, but she will not. Possibly because she is no coquette."
"She will probably marry some one."
"She cannot," muttered Agapit, and he fell into a quiet rage, and out of it again in the duration of a few seconds. Then he resumed a light-hearted conversation with Vesper, who averted his curious eyes from him.
CHAPTER X.
BACK TO THE CONCESSION.
"And Nature hath remembered, for a trace Of calm Acadien life yet holds command, Where, undisturbed, the rustling willows stand, And the curved gra.s.s, telling the breeze"s pace."
J. F. H.
Mrs. Rose a Charlitte served her dinner in the middle of the day. The six o"clock meal she called supper.
With feminine insight she noticed, at supper, on a day a week later, that her guest was more quiet than usual, and even dull in humor.
Agapit, who was nearly always in high spirits, and always very much absorbed in himself, came bustling in,--sobered down for one minute to cross himself, and reverently repeat a _benedicite_, then launched into a voluble and enjoyable conversation on the subject of which he never tired,--his beloved countrymen, the Acadiens.
Rose withdrew to the innermost recesses of her pantry. "Do you know these little berries?" she asked, coming back, and setting a gla.s.s dish, full of a thick, whitish preserve, before Vesper.
"No," he said, absently, "what are they?"
"They are _poudabre_, or _capillaire_,--waxen berries that grow deep in the woods. They hide their little selves under leaves, yet the children find them. They are expensive, and we do not buy many, yet perhaps you will find them excellent."
"They are delicious," said Vesper, tasting them.
"Give me also some," said Agapit, with pretended jealousy. "It is not often that we are favored with _poudabre_."
"There are yours beside your plate," said Rose, mischievously; "you have, if anything, more than Mr. Nimmo."
She very seldom mentioned Vesper"s name. It sounded foreign on her lips, and he usually liked to hear her. This evening he paid no attention to her, and, with a trace of disappointment in her manner, she went away to the kitchen.
After Vesper left the table she came back. "Agapit, the young man is dull."
"I a.s.sure thee," said Agapit, in French, and very dictatorially, "he is as gay as he usually is."
"He is never gay, but this evening he is troubled."
Agapit grew uneasy. "Dost thou think he will again become ill?"
Rose"s brilliant face became pale. "I trust not. Ah, that would be terrible!"
"Possibly he thinks of something. Where is his mother?"
"Above, in her room. Some books came from Boston in a box, and she reads. Go to him, Agapit; talk not of the dear dead, but of the living.
Seek not to find out in what his dullness consists, and do not say abrupt things, but gentle. Remember all the kind sayings that thou knowest about women. Say that they are constant if they truly love. They do not forget."
Agapit"s fingers remained motionless in the bowl of the big pipe that he was filling with tobacco. "_Ma foi_, but thou art eloquent. What has come over thee?"
"Nothing, nothing," she said, hurriedly, "I only wonder whether he thinks of his _fiancee_."
"How dost thou know he has a _fiancee_?"
"I do not know, I guess. Surely, so handsome a young man must belong already to some woman."
"Ah,--probably. Rose, I am glad that thou hast never been a coquette."
"And why should I be one?" she asked, wonderingly.
"Why, thou hast ways,--sly ways, like most women, and thou art meek and gentle, else why do men run after thee, thou little bleating lamb?"
Rose made him no answer beyond a shrug of her shoulders.
"But thou wilt not marry. Is it not so?" he continued, with tremulous eagerness. "It is better for thee to remain single and guard thy child."
She looked up at him wistfully, then, as solemnly as if she were taking a vow, she murmured, "I do not know all things, but I think I shall never marry."
Agapit could scarcely contain his delight. He laid a hand on her shoulder, and exclaimed, "My good little cousin!" Then he lighted his pipe and smoked in ecstatic silence.
Rose occupied herself with clearing the things from the table, until a sudden thought struck Agapit. "Leave all that for Celina. Let us take a drive, you and I and the little one. Thou hast been much in the house lately."
"But Mr. Nimmo--will it be kind to leave him?"
"He can come if he will, but thou must also ask madame. Go then, while I harness Toochune."
"I am not ready," said Rose, shrinking back.
"Ready!" laughed Agapit. "I will make thee ready," and he pulled her shawl and handkerchief from a peg near the kitchen door.
"I had the intention of wearing my hat," faltered Rose.
"Absurdity! keep it for ma.s.s, and save thy money. Go ask the young man, while I am at the stable."
Rose meekly put on the shawl and the handkerchief, and went to the front of the house.
Vesper stood in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back. She could only see his curly head, a bit of his cheek, and the tip of his mustache. At the sound of her light step he turned around, and his face brightened.
"Look at the sunset," he said, kindly, when she stood in embarra.s.sment before him. "It is remarkable."
It was indeed remarkable. A blood-red sun was shouldering his way in and out of a wide dull ma.s.s of gray cloud that was unrelieved by a single fleck of color.