Evangeline 
is laid to rest on the shore of Minas by the 
loving hands of the stricken neighbours. 
Night falls, and we watch the people by their 
fires on the shore ; it is their last night, and 
they sit in dumb misery. In a moment a thrill 
of anguish and horror passes over our own 
nerves as it did over theirs, for along the strag- 
gling street of Grand Pre an ominous light 
shines. 
The cruel flame-storm spreads and rages, its 
passion fed by the thatched roofs of the Aca- 
dian homes. This is the last drop, and the 
voices of the people are raised in shrieks and 
groans of utter despair. 
Again we see Evangeline, no longer a care- 
free girl but a full-dowered woman, accepting 
her womanhood and perfecting it in the fire of 
her great affliction. It is her voice that com- 
forts and her hand that sustains, and young and 
old turn to her in appealing reverence, knowing 
now the cause of their joy in her. 
In that miserable camp on the shore stands 
not Evangeline, but Womanhood. 
Lying on the sunny bank, we watch those 
ships of the land of romance sail away from the 
mouth of the Gaspereaux. We scarce see the 
77 
