d by Pierrot Desbarats, who, laughing to scorn the
superstitious fears of his fellow-villagers, had brought it home in
triumph. It was his purpose to go, at some convenient season, to
Halifax, and there sell the matchless crystal, of whose value the priest
had been able to give him some idea. But that very spring ill luck had
crossed the threshold of Pierrot's cabin, a threshold over which he was
even then preparing to lead Marie Beaugrand as his bride. Two of his
oxen died mysteriously, his best cow slipped her calf, his horse got a
strain in the loins, and his apple blossoms were nipped by a frost which
passed by his neighbors' trees. Thereupon, heeding the words of an old
Micmac squaw, who had said that the spell of the stone had no power upon
a woman, Pierrot had placed his treasure in Marie's keeping till such
time as it could be transformed into English gold--and from that day the
shadow of ill-fate had seemed to pass from him, until the edict of
banishment came upon Grand Pre like a bolt out of a cloudless heaven.

From the ship, on whose deck he awaited her coming, Pierrot saw the
apparently causeless accident which had befallen the gem, and watched
with dry lips and burning eyes the vain endeavors of the search. His
hands trembled and his heart was bitter against the girl for a few
moments; but as the boat drew near, and he caught the misery and
fathomless self-reproach on her averted face, his anger melted away in
pity. He took Marie's hand as she came over the bulwarks, and whispered
to her: "Don't cry about it, '_Tite Cherie_, it would have brought us
bad luck anywhere we went. Let's thank the Holy Saints it's gone."

As the ship forged slowly across the Basin and came beneath the shadow
of the frown of Blomidon, Pierrot pointed out first the perilous ledge
to which he had climbed for the vanished "star," and then the
tide-washed hollow under the cliff, where they had picked up the body of
the luckless sailor from St. Malo. "Who knows, Marie," continued
Pierrot, "if thou hadst not lost that evil stone thou might'st one day
have seen _me_ in such a case as that sailor came unto!" And then, not
because she was at all convinced by such reasoning, but because her
lover's voice was kind, the girl looked up into Pierrot's face and made
shift to dry her tears.

II.

Late in December the last ship sailed away. Then the last roof-tree of
Grand Pre village went down in ashes; and Winslow's lieutenant, Osgood,
wi