Marie Gourdon | Page 8

is a most interesting companion, and he has told me many
tales of countries far beyond here."
"Well, he may be a genius, though I for my part cannot see it. And you,
my dear one, do you long to see those countries beyond the sea? I know
I do. I am tired of this life, this continual struggle for a bare existence.
The same thing day after day, year after year; nothing new happens.
Why did M. Bois-le-Duc teach me of an outer world beyond the bleak
Gulf of St. Lawrence? Why did he teach me to read Virgil and Plato?
He did it for the best, no doubt; but I think he did wrong. He has stirred
up within me a restless evil spirit of discontent. Oh! Marie, to think I
am doomed to be a fisherman here all my life. It is hard."
"Yes, Noël, it is hard. It has always seemed to me that you with your
talents, your learning, are thrown away here. But why not go to Quebec
or Montreal? You would have a wider sphere there."
"I would go to-morrow, Marie, if it were not for one thing."
"What is that, Noël?"
"Marie, do you not know?"
"I suppose your reason is that you do not wish to leave your mother,"
said the girl hesitatingly.

"No, Marie, that is not the reason. My mother would let me go
to-morrow, if I wished."
"Then I cannot understand why you stay. You would do much better in
Quebec, you with your ability."
"You cannot understand, Marie? You do not know that it is because of
you, and you alone, that I stay on in this place, smothering all my
ambitions, my hopes of advancement. No, Marie, you say you do not
understand. If you spoke more truly you would say you did not care
where I went."
"Noël," said the girl gently, and looking distressed, "you know, my
dear one, that I do care very much, and I cannot think why you speak to
me in that bitter way."
"Marie, do you care? You have seemed lately so indifferent to my plans,
and it has made me angry, for, my darling, you must have seen that my
love for you is deep, strong, mighty, like the flow of yonder great river.
Aye, it is stronger, greater, more unchangeable."
A glad light came into the girl's pale face, but she did not speak, and
Noël went on:
"It is not as if my love for you were a thing of yesterday, for I can never
remember the time when you were not first in my thoughts. Yes,
Marie--
'Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.'"
"What, Noël, never? That is a long, long time. Are you sure, Noël?"
"Am I sure, Marie? Is yonder great rock, on which countless tides have
beaten, sure? Is the mighty Gulf sure of its ebb and flow? Is anything
sure in this world, Marie?"
The girl did not answer, and he went on:
"Tell me, Marie, do you care for me or do you not?"

Marie hesitated, and Noël impatiently gathered up some loose pebbles
and threw them into the water, walking hurriedly up and down the
beach.
"Marie, you must answer me to-night; I must come to a decision."
The girl rose slowly from her seat, and, coming towards Noël, put both
her hands in his, and lifting up her great brown eyes, lighted with
happiness and perfect trust, said deliberately,--
"'Il y a longtemps que je t'aime, Jamais je ne t'oublierai.'"
CHAPTER IV.
"Red o'er the forest peers the setting sun, The line of yellow light dies
fast away."
Keble.
"Well, I'm afraid, Webster, it's a thankless task. There are plenty of
Scotch names about here, but not the one we want. I'm heartily tired of
going about from churchyard to churchyard, poking around like ghouls
or medical students. We've been to all the graves in the neighborhood,
and, interesting as such a pursuit may be to an antiquary like yourself, I
find it very slow. I'm one of those sensible people who believe in living
in the present, and letting the dead past bury its dead, as the poet says."
"Are you, indeed?" retorted his companion drily. "Too lazy, I suppose,
to do anything else."
"Well, that may be the case; but this I know, that I'm going to cable
Lady McAllister to-morrow, and tell her that I'm going back. You may
stay here if you like, as you appear to find the country so charming."
"It is very kind, indeed, of you to give me your permission," replied the
other. "But, my gay and festive friend, I doubt very much whether Lady
McAllister will allow you to return. You know, as well as I,