The Chevalier's daughter : $b or, An exile for the truthGuernsey, Lucy Ellen
History
The Chevalier's daughter : $b or, An exile for the truth
Guernsey, Lucy Ellen
France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Juvenile fiction; Historical fiction; Huguenots -- France -- Juvenile fiction
Louisonne and two other girls were missing at the hour of departure,
and could nowhere be found, and she was forced to embark without them.
The next day they crept out of their concealment, a good deal scared
and ashamed. They were received with kindness, however, and taken to
service in decent families, and all three turned out very well.
The next ship to England carried news of us to our friends, but we
ourselves remained in New England. Andrew had a mind to see the country
now he had come thither, and he thought, moreover, that it would be as
safe for me to remain at a good distance till the storm, if storm there
were, should blow over. The tale could not fail to reach the ears of
King Louis and his ministers, and as our own King Charles was (I say
it to our shame) absolutely under his thumb, we knew not what demands
might be made.
So after travelling about a while, we bought a house and farm not very
far from Hampton. Here we lived for six years, very happy and content;
and here one day I had a great fright.
Sitting in my parlor with my youngest babe in my arms, Lucille, who
made it her home with us, came in to tell me that three or four Indians
were asking for food. This was no uncommon occurrence, and I bade her
supply their wants and set them down to eat; but seeing that she was
disturbed (for she had never overcome her fear of the natives) I went
to attend to them myself. I have a tolerably quick eye and a quick ear
for languages, and I discovered at once that these were none of our
ordinary peaceable Neponsets, with whom we were on the best of terms,
but strangers.
Moreover, I was sure that one of them was a white man. I supplied them
with food, and then, slipping into the next room, where I could see all
their faces in a mirror without being myself seen, I saw the supposed
white man make the sign of the cross, and in the action, I recognized
my old confessor, Father Martien.
My blood ran cold for a moment. It was well-known that the Jesuits of
Canada constantly set on their Indian allies to rob, burn, and murder
all along our settlements; but it was seldom that they came as far as
our place. No doubt these were spies sent out to see the nakedness of
the land. Woe to me if I fell into their hands.
I stepped to the door and sent a black boy for my husband, who was not
far-away. He came, and I told him my convictions.
"Tut!" said he. "I dare say they are harmless enough."
"Look and listen for yourself," said I.
He did so, and was obliged to confess that there was cause for my
alarm. They finished their meal, and went away peaceably enough, but I
shall never forget the look Father Martien bestowed on me in parting.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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