The young Englishman
was deeply moved. Having heard all, and questioned of the matter
minutely, he rose and shook Pierre by the hand, thanking him in few
words, indeed, but in a voice that spoke his emotion. Then he poured
out his gratitude to Lecorbeau and his wife for their goodness, to this
child of their foes; and little by little he gathered the Acadian's
feelings toward the English, and the part he had played throughout.
At length he said:
"Can you allow me to quarter myself here for the present? I cannot take
Edie into the camp, and she would not be willing if I could. I see from
her love for you how truly kind she has found you. I want to be with
the little one as much as possible; and, moreover, my presence here
may prove of use to you in the near future."
The significance of these last words Lecorbeau did not care to question,
but after a glance at his wife, who looked dumfounded at the proposition,
he said:
"You may well realize, monsieur, that with this small cabin and this
large family we can give you but poor accommodation. But such as it is,
you are more than welcome to it. Your coming will be to us an honor
and a pleasure, and a most valued protection."
The lieutenant at once took up his abode in Lecorbeau's cabin. When,
a few weeks later, the first scenes were enacted in the tragedy known
as the "Expulsion of the Acadians," the friendship of the young
lieutenant and of Edie stood Lecorbeau in good stead. This storm
which scattered to the four winds the remnant of the Acadians, passed
harmlessly over the cabin beneath the willows of Beausejour.
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