Beyond to right and left expanded plains of vivid emerald, with
a line of undulating uplands running back from Fort Edward and dividing
the marshes of the St. Croix from those of the Piziquid. The scene was
one of plenty and content. Pierre concluded that it would be necessary
for him to avoid being seen by the garrison of the fort, lest he should
be suspected of being one of the raiders. He decided to seek one of the
outermost houses of the settlement about nightfall and there to tell his
story, relying upon the good faith of one Acadian toward another. The
child, he made up his mind must stay in his care and go with him to
Beausejour. Having risked and suffered so much for her, he already began
to regard her with jealous devotion and to imagine she was indeed his own.
The child woke as joyous as a bird. Hand in hand the quaint-looking
pair--a seeming Indian with a little white-skinned child in a flannel
nightgown--trudged patiently up the stream, till in the middle of the
afternoon they came to a spot where Pierre thought it safe to wade across.
By this time the little one's feet were so sore that she had to be carried
all the time; and it was well after sunset when Pierre set his armful
down at the door of an outlying cottage of Piziquid, well away from
the surveillance of the fort.
In answer to Pierre's knock there came a woman to the door, who started
back in alarm. With a laughing salutation, however, Pierre followed her
into the blaze of firelight which poured from the heaped-up hearth.
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