Charles George Douglas Roberts, page 13
Earth’s Enigmas
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.
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“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.
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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! ” 104
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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.
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“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.
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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 107
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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.
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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.
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Earth's Enigmas, Charles George Douglas Roberts
