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He knew Lecorbeau had somewhere picked up an English child. But a child was in his eyes quite too trivial a matter to call for any comment. As time went on Pierre's little one, as she was generally called "la p'tite de Pierre" picked up the French of her new Acadian home, and went far to forgetting her English.
"I can't leave my Pierre, who saved me from the cruel Indians." This recalled the young man's thoughts to the mystery of the little one's presence at Beausejour. Lecorbeau gave him a bench, and sitting down beside him told the story, while Edie sat with one hand in her uncle's clasp and the other in that of Pierre. The young Englishman was deeply moved.
His keen eyes, as he spoke, burned upon the dark face of the Acadian. Lecorbeau did not flinch. He returned the piercing gaze calmly and respectfully, saying: "Have I not proved it, Reverend Father?" A phantom of a smile went over the priest's thin lips, leaving his eyes unlightened. "It is well! You shall have yet another chance to prove it.
She further declared that he hadn't a lot of hair on his face, like father Lecorbeau, but was nice and smooth, like her Pierre, only with a mustache. All this tallied with a description of Captain Howe, so Lecorbeau concluded that she was Howe's child. As for the people with whom she had been visiting in the hapless village of Kenneticook, they were evidently old servants of her father's family.
Many of them, like Lecorbeau, had in the past taken oath of allegiance to King George, and these feared lest, in the probable event of the English being victorious, they should be put to death as traitors. This difficulty was solved, and their fears much mitigated, in a thoroughly novel way.
Lecorbeau, was no faint-heart, though his far-seeing sagacity often made him appear so in the eyes of those who did not know him well. As for Pierre, he was now in his element, sniffing the battle like a young warhorse, and forgetful of the odds against him. Le Loutre was everywhere at once, tireless, seeing everything, spurring the work, and worth a hundred Vergors in such a crisis as this.
As he spoke he studied intently the face of Lecorbeau. But the sagacious Acadian was a match for him. Lecorbeau's heart sank in his breast. He was a prey to the most violent feeling of hatred toward his guest, and of loathing for the task required of him. He saw in it, also, the probability of his own ruin, for he believed the complete triumph of the English was at hand.
"As a fighting man monsieur the abbe makes rather a poor show, however good he may be at burning people's houses!" exclaimed Pierre, in a voice that trembled with a mixture of enthusiasm for the cause, and scorn for him who had it in charge. "You will find, my son," said Lecorbeau, sententiously, "that the cruel and pitiless are often without real courage!"
She'll mind, I'll answer you. And then, if Madame Breboeuf can give her a little homespun frock and cap, we'll pass her off all right should anyone see her. And when we get to Beausejour my father will make it all right for the clothes." "He won't do anything of the sort," answered both Breboeuf and his wife in one breath. "We all know Antoine Lecorbeau, and we're proud to do his son a service.
"But now, where are your companions of that dreadful expedition? Not one has yet arrived at Beausejour!" This question which Lecorbeau asked, all Beausejour was asking in an hour or two. That night an Indian, sent from Le Loutre, who was lying in exhaustion at Cobequid, arrived at the fort and told the fate of the expedition.
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