Adèle Dubois. Mrs. William T. Savage
Before Mrs. Dubois had time to reply, Mrs. McNab, looking rather fiercely at Mr. Norton, said, "Yer dinna suppose, sir, if the Lord had decreed from all eternity that Mr. Doobyce should be drowned, or rabbed, or murdered to-night, that our prayin' an' trustin' wad cause Him to revoorse His foreordained purpose? Adely", she continued, "I dinna mind if I take anither egg an' a trifle more o' chicken an' some pickle".
By no means taken aback by this pointed inquiry, Mr. Norton replied very gently, "I believe, ma'am, in the power of prayer to move the Almighty throne, when it comes from a sincere and humble heart, and that He will bestow His blessing in return".
"Weel", said Mrs. McNab, "I was brought up in the church o' Scotland, and dinna believe anything anent this new-light doctrine o' God's bein' turned roun' an' givin' up his decrees an' a'that. I think it's the ward o' Satan", and she passed her cup to be again refilled with tea.
Adèle, who had noticed that Mrs. McNab's observations had suggested new solicitudes to her mother's mind, remarked, "What you said just now, Aunt Patty, is not very consoling. Whoever thought that my father would meet with anything worse than perhaps being drenched by the storm, and half eaten up with vermin in the dirty inns where he will have to lodge? I do not doubt he will be home in good time".
"Yes, Miss Adely, yes. I ken it", said Aunt Patty, as she saw a firm, defiant expression gathering in the young girl's countenance. "I'd a dream anent him last night that makes me think he's comin".
"Hark!" said Adèle, starting and speaking in a clear, ringing tone, "he has come. I hear his voice on the lawn".
Murmuring a word or two of excuse, she rose instantly from the table, requested Bess, the servant, to hand her a lantern, and arrayed herself quickly in hood and cloak.
As she opened the door, her father was standing on the step, in the driving rain, supporting in his arms the form of a gentleman, who seemed to be almost in a state of insensibility.
"Make way! make way, Adèle. Here's a sick man. Throw some blankets on the floor, and come, all hands, and rub him. My dear, order something warm for him to drink".
Mrs. Dubois caught a pile of bedding from a neighboring closet and arranged it upon the floor, near the fire. Mr. Dubois laid the stranger down upon it. Mr. Norton immediately rose from the tea-table, drew off the boots of the fainting man, and began to chafe his feet with his warm, broad hand.
"Put a dash of cold water on his face, child", said he to Adèle, "and he'll come to, in a minute". Adèle obeyed.
The stranger opened his eyes suddenly and looked around in astonishment upon the group.
"Ah! yes. I see", he said, "I have been faint, or something of the kind. I believe I am not quite well".
He attempted to rise, but sank back, powerless. He turned his head slowly towards Mr. Dubois, and said, "Friend Dubois, I think I am going to be ill, and must trust myself to your compassion", when immediately his eyes closed and his countenance assumed the paleness of death.
"Don't be down-hearted, Mr. Brown", said Mr. Dubois. "You are not used to this Miramichi staging. You'll be better by and by. My dear, give me the cordial—he needs stimulating".
He took a cup of French brandy, mixed with sugar and boiling water, from the hand of Mrs. Dubois, and administered it slowly to the exhausted man. It seemed to have a quieting effect, and after awhile Mr. Brown sank into a disturbed slumber.
Observing this, and finding that his limbs, which had been cold and benumbed, were now thoroughly warmed, Mr. Dubois rose from his kneeling position and turning to his daughter, said, "Now then, Adèle, take the lantern and go with me to the stables. I must see for myself that the horses are properly cared for. They are both tired and famished".
Adèle caught up the lantern, but Mr. Norton interposed. "Allow me, sir, to assist you", he said, rising quickly. "It will expose the young lady to go out in the storm. Let me go, sir".
He approached Adèle to take the lantern from her hand, but she drew back and held it fast.
"I don't mind weather, sir", she said, with a little sniff of contempt at the thought. "And my father usually prefers my attendance. I thank you. Will you please stay with the sick gentleman?"
Mr. Norton bowed, smiled, and reseated himself near the invalid.
In the mean time, Mr. Dubois and his daughter went through the rain to the stables; his wife replenished the tea-urn and began to rearrange the table.
Mrs. McNab, during the scene that had thus unexpectedly occurred, had been waddling from one part of the room to the other, exclaiming, "The Lord be gude to us!" Her presence, however, seemed for the time to be ignored.
When she heard the gentle movements made by Mrs. Dubois among the dishes, her dream seemed suddenly to fade out of view. Seating herself again at the table, she diligently pursued the task of finishing her supper, yet ever and anon examining the prostrate form upon the floor.
"Peradventure he's a mon fra' the States. His claithes look pretty nice. As a gen'al thing them people fra' the States hae plenty o' plack in their pockets. What do you think, sir?"
"He is undoubtedly a gentleman from New England", said Mr. Norton.
CHAPTER II.
MRS. M'NAB.
Mrs. McNab was a native of Dumfries, Scotland, and had made her advent in the Miramichi country about five years previous to the occurrences just mentioned.
Having buried her husband, mother, and two children—hoping that change of scene might lighten the weight upon her spirits, she had concluded to emigrate with some intimate acquaintances to the Province of New Brunswick.
On first reaching the settlement, she had spent several weeks at the Dubois House, where she set immediately at work to prove her accomplishments, by assisting in making up dresses for Mrs. Dubois and Adèle.
She entertained them with accounts of her former life in Scotland—talking largely about her acquaintance with the family of Lord Lindsay, in which she had served in the capacity of nurse. She described the castle in which they resided, the furniture, the servants, and the grand company; and, more than all, she knew or pretended to know the traditions, legends, and ghost stories connected, for many generations past, with the Lindsay race.
She talked untiringly of these matters to the neighbors, exciting their interest and wonder by the new phases of life presented, and furnishing food for the superstitious tendencies always rife in new and ignorant settlements. In short, by these means, she won her way gradually in the community, until she came to be the general factotum.
It was noticed, indeed, that in the annual round of her visits from house to house, Mrs. McNab had a peculiar faculty of securing to herself the various material comforts available, having an excellent appetite and a genius for appropriating the warmest seat at the fireplace and any other little luxury a-going. These things were, however, overlooked, especially by the women of the region, on account of her social qualities, she being an invaluable companion during the long days and evenings when their husbands and sons were away, engaged in lumbering or fishing. When the family with which she happened to be sojourning were engaged in domestic occupations, Mrs. McNab, established in some cosey corner, told her old wife stories and whiled away the long and dismal wintry hours.
Of all the people among whom she moved, Adèle Dubois least exercised the grace of patience toward her.
On the return of Mr. Dubois and his daughter to the house, after having seen the horses safely stowed away, he refreshed himself at the tea-table and