n. The widow of his late enemy received him graciously, and
he entered into possession of the estate of the late occupant with the
consent of all the heirs. To remove all roots of bitterness, De la
Tour married Madame de Charnise, and history does not record any ill of
either of them. I trust they had the grace to plant a sweetbrier on
the grave of the noble woman to whose faithfulness and courage they owe
their rescue from obscurity. At least the parties to this singular
union must have agreed to ignore the lamented existence of the Chevalier
d'Aunay.

With the Chevalier de la Tour, at any rate, it all went well thereafter.
When Cromwell drove the French from Acadia, he granted great territorial
rights to De la Tour, which that thrifty adventurer sold out to one
of his co-grantees for L16,000; and he no doubt invested the money in
peltry for the London market.

As we leave the station at Annapolis, we are obliged to put Madame de la
Tour out of our minds to make room for another woman whose name, and we
might say presence, fills all the valley before us. So it is that woman
continues to reign, where she has once got a foothold, long after her
dear frame has become dust. Evangeline, who is as real a personage as
Queen Esther, must have been a different woman from Madame de la Tour.
If the latter had lived at Grand Pre, she would, I trust, have made
it hot for the brutal English who drove the Acadians out of their
salt-marsh paradise, and have died in her heroic shoes rather than float
off into poetry. But if it should come to the question of marrying the
De la Tour or the Evangeline, I think no man who was not engaged in the
peltry trade would hesitate which to choose. At any rate, the women who
love have more influence in the world than the women who fight, and so
it happens that the sentimental traveler who passes through Port Royal
without a tear for Madame de la Tour, begins to be in a glow of tender
longing and regret for Evangeline as soon as he enters the valley of the
Annapolis River. For myself, I expected to see written over the railway
crossings the legend,

"Look out for Evangeline while the bell rings."

When one rides into a region of romance he does not much notice his
speed or his carriage; but I am obliged to say that we were not hurried
up the valley, and that the cars were not too luxurious for the plain
people, priests, clergymen, and belles of the region, who rode in them.
Evidently the latest f