The Rivals of Acadia | Page 7

rosary, which he carried in his
hand. The page was at first on the point of speaking, believing it to be
father Ambrose, the Catholic missionary; but a second glance
convinced him he was mistaken, and with curiosity, mingled with a
degree of awe, he leaned forward to observe him more attentively.
After proceeding a few paces, he stopped, and threw back his cowl, and
as he did so, his eye encountered the page, whom he surveyed strictly
for a moment, then turned slowly away, and disappeared by an aperture
through the outer works. The boy looked over the wall, expecting the
return of this singular intruder; nor was he aware how fixedly he
remained in that position, till the touch of a hand, laid lightly on his
arm, recalled him to recollection. Turning quickly round, he
involuntarily started back, on perceiving the object of his curiosity
close beside him. His gliding footsteps and peculiar appearance
awakened a transient feeling of dread; but instantly repressing it, he
ventured to raise his head, and as he did so, the clear light of the moon
fell full on his youthful face. The stranger was about to speak, but as
the page looked towards him, the words died away on his lips, his
cheeks were flushed, and his cold features glowed with sudden and
strong excitement.
"Holy St. Mary, who are you?" he asked, in an accent of deep feeling,
as he grasped the arm of the trembling youth.
"I am called Hector, the page of Mad. la Tour," he answered, in a voice
scarce audible from terror, and shrinking from the hand which held

him.
"May God forgive me!" murmured the monk to himself, as he relaxed
his grasp; while, evidently by a strong effort, every trace of emotion
was banished from his countenance and manner. Hector still stood
before him, longing, yet afraid to flee, till the other, apparently
comprehending his feelings, said, in a slow, solemn voice,
"Fear me not, boy, but go, bear this message to the lady of La Tour.
Tell her, that her lord hath already spread his homeward sails, and a
few hours, perhaps, will bear him hither. Tell her, that M. d'Aulney will
send to parley with her for surrender; but bid her disdain his promises
or threats; bid her hold out with a brave heart, and the hour of succor
will surely arrive."
So saying, he turned away; and Hector hastened to the apartment of his
lady.
CHAPTER III.
Herald, save thy labor; Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald;
SHAKSPEARE.
The arrival of some fishermen on the following morning confirmed the
intelligence of father Gilbert--the name by which the priest, who
succeeded Father Ambrose, had announced himself at the fort. They
had eluded the enemy by night, and reported that several vessels lay
becalmed in the Bay of Fundy; and, though they had not been near
enough to ascertain with certainty, no doubt was entertained, that it was
the little fleet of M. la Tour, returning with the expected supplies.
The holy character and mission of father Gilbert was his passport in
every place; and, as his duty often called him to remote parts of the
settlement, and among every description of people, it was natural that
he should obtain information of passing events, before it reached the
ears of the garrison. The mysterious manner in which he had
communicated his intelligence on the preceding evening, occasioned

some surprise; but Mad. la Tour, in listening to the relation of her page,
made due allowance for the exaggerations of excited fancy; and she
was also aware, that the Catholic missionaries were fond of assuming
an ambiguous air, which inspired the lower people with reverence, and
doubtless increased their influence over them. Till within a day or two,
father Gilbert had never entered the fort; but he was well known to the
poor inhabitants without, by repeated acts of charity and kindness,
though he sedulously shunned all social intercourse, and was remarked
for the austere discipline, and rigid self-denial to which he subjected
himself.
The spirits of the garrison revived with the expectation of relief, which
was no longer considered a matter of uncertainty. In the fulness of these
renovated hopes, a boat from M. d'Aulney approached with an officer
bearing a flag of truce. He was received with becoming courtesy, and
immediately shewn into the presence of Mad. la Tour. In spite of his
contempt for female authority, and his apathy to female charms, a
feeling of respectful admiration softened the harshness of his features,
as the sturdy veteran bent before her, with the almost forgotten
gallantry of earlier years. At that period of life, when the graces of
youth have just ripened into maturity, the lady of La Tour was as highly
distinguished by