Chapter X: My fear hath catch'd your fondness

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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.