Pawtucket tribune. (Pawtucket, R.I.) 1890-189?, 1892-03-04
THE ROSE TREE NINE.

The birds are going south, Antoine.
and il is so earlyp
"Yes, Angelique, tho winter will be
long"
There was pause, and then, "An-
toine, heard child cry in the night,
and could not sleep"
1T was devil bird, my wife; il flies
slowly and the summer is dead"
Antoine, there was a rushing of
wings by my bed before the morn was
breaking"
THE wild geese know their way in
the night, Angelique, but they flew by
the house and not near thy bed"
The two black squirrels have gone
from the hickory tree"
"They have hidden away with the
and il is the time Of sleep"
"a cold hand was knocking at my
heart when / said my aves last night,
my Antoine"
"The heart Of woman feels many
strange things; cannot answer, my
wife"
"Let us go also southwark, Antoine,
beforc the great winds and the wild frost
come
~ have love of thee, Angelique, but l
cannot CO."
sis not love greater than allg"
"To keep pledge is greater"
"Yet if evil conner"
There is the mine"
None travels hither; who should
find it,
"Ho said TO me, my wife, Antoine,
will You stay aud watch the mine until
| come with the birds northward againY
and said Il will stay and Angelique will
stay; will watch the mine.'"
This is for his riches, but for our
peril Antoine"
"Who can say whittier woman's
fancy goes? Ii is full of guessing. 1t is
clouds and darkness today and sunshine
so much--tomorrow | cannot an-
swer"
IL have n fear. II my husband loved
me-
There Is the mine," he interrupted
firmly.
"When my heart aches so"---
"Angelique. there Is the mine"
"Ah, my Antoinev'
And so these two staid on the island
Of Saint Jean. in Lake Superior, through
the purple haze of autumn into the
white brilliancy Of winter, guarding the
Rose Tree mine, which Fading. tho
Englishman, and his companions had
prosp, cted and declared to be their
Ophir
But Saint Jean was far from tho ways
OF settlement, and there was little food
and only one hut, and many things must
be done for the Rose Tree mine in the
places where men sell their souls for
money; and Antoine and Angelique,
French peasants from the parish of Saint
Irene, in Quebec, were left to guard tho
place of treasure until. to the sound Of
the laughing spring, there should come
many men and much machinery, and
the sinking of shafts in the earth and
the making of riches.
But when Antoine and Angelique were
left alone in the waste, and God began
TO draw the pale coverlet of frost slowly
across land and water and to surround
Saint Jean with stubborn moat of ice,
the heart of the woman felt some coming
danger, and at last broke forth in words
of timid warning. When she once had
spoken she said no more, but staid and
builded the heaps of earth about the
home, and filled every crevice against
the inhospitable Spirit of Winds, and
drew her world closer and closer within
those two rooms where they should 1.-Two
through many moons.
The winter was harsh, but the hearts
of tho two were strong. They loved,
and love is the parent of endurance, the
begettor Of courage. And every day,
because it seemed his duty, Antoine in
spected the Rose Tree mine: and every
day, also, because it seemed her duty,
Angelique said many aves. And ono
prayer was much with her-for spring
to come early, that the child should not
suffer; tho child which tho good God
was to give to her and Antoine.
In the first hours OF each evening An
tome smoked and Angelique sang tho
old songs which their ancestors learned
in Normandy. One night Antoine's face
was lighted with fine fire as he talked
Of happy days in the parish of Saint
Irene, and with that romantic fervor of
his race which the stern winters of Can
ada could not kill, he sang "a Ia Claire
Fontaine," the well beloved song child
Of the voyagers' hearts.
And the wife smiled far away into the
dancing fames-far away, because the
fire retreated, retreated to the little
church where they two were we'd; and
she did as most good women do--though
exactly why, man the insufficient can
not declare-she wept little through
her smiles. But when the last verse
came both smiles and tears ceased. An
tome sang it with fond monotony:
Would that each rose were growing
Upon the rose treo gay.
And that the fatal rose tree
Deep In the ocean lay.
Il-y n longtcmps que 10 t'aime