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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Span o' Life + A Tale of Louisbourg & Quebec + +Author: William McLennan + Jean Newton McIlwraith + +Illustrator: F. de Myrbac + +Release Date: September 15, 2010 [EBook #33731] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPAN O' LIFE *** + + + + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h2>THE SPAN O' LIFE</h2> + +<h3> THE SPAN O' LIFE</h3> +<h3>A Tale of Louisbourg & Quebec</h3> + +<p> +By WILLIAM McLENNAN<br/> +and J. N. McILWRAITH<br/> +Illustrations by F. de Myrbach<br/> +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<i> + <span class="i0">The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,</span> + <span class="i1">Nor deep eneugh the sea,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor braid eneugh this weary warld</span> + <span class="i1">To part my Love frae me</span> +</i> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +NEW YORK AND LONDON:<br/> +HARPER & BROTHERS PUBLISHERS +</p> + +<p> +TORONTO:<br/> +THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED +</p> + +<p> +Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year +1899, by Harper & Brothers, at the Department of Agriculture. +</p> + +<p> +Copyright, 1899, by HARPER & BROTHERS. +</p> + +<p> +<i>All rights reserved.</i> +</p> + +<h2>PREFACE</h2> + +<p> +The reader familiar with the amusing memoirs of the Chevalier +Johnstone will recognise in how far Maxwell was suggested thereby; +if he be equally familiar with the detail of Canadian history of +the period he will have little difficulty in discovering the +originals of Sarennes and some of the secondary characters, and, +in the Epilogue, the legend of the death of the celebrated missionary, +le R. P. Jean Baptiste de la Brosse. But while the experience of +some actual man or woman has suggested a type to be portrayed, it +is only as a type, and with no intention of representing the +individual in the character of the story. Nor is the attempt to +set forth the respective attitude of the Canadian and the old-country +Frenchman to be read as a personal expression of the authors', but +as their conception of an unfortunate condition between colonist +and official that obtained as fully in Canada as it did between +the same classes in the English colonies. +</p> + +<p> +Long habit has made the English names of many places and positions +so familiar to many in Canada that to adhere to the French form in +all instances would be as unnatural as to Anglicise all names +throughout—which will explain the lack of uniformity in this +particular. +</p> + +<p> +The authors have pleasure in acknowledging their indebtedness to +M. l'Abbé Casgrain, of Quebec, for valuable personal assistance in +determining local detail, and to Mtre. Joseph Edmond Roy, N.P., of +Lévis, for information on the period and the use of his version of +the death of the père de la Brosse from his interesting monograph, +“Tadoussac.” +</p> + +<p> +W. McL. and J. N. McI. +</p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<h3><a href="#PART_I">PART I</a></h3> + +<p> +MAXWELL'S STORY +</p> + +<ul> +<li>I. <a href="#CHAPTER_I">“After High Floods Come Low Ebbs”</a></li> +<li>II. <a href="#CHAPTER_II">I Discover a New Interest in Life</a></li> +<li>III. <a href="#CHAPTER_III">“The Dead and the Absent are Always Wrong”</a></li> +<li>IV. <a href="#CHAPTER_IV">In Which I Make Acquaintance with One Near to Me</a></li> +<li>V. <a href="#CHAPTER_V">I Assist at an Interview with a Great Man</a></li> +<li>VI. <a href="#CHAPTER_VI">How I Take to the Road Again, and of the Company I Fall in With</a></li> +<li>VII. <a href="#CHAPTER_VII">How I Come to Take a Great Resolve</a></li> +<li>VIII. <a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">How I Make Both Friends and Enemies in New France</a></li> +<li>IX. <a href="#CHAPTER_IX">“Joy and Sorrow are Next-door Neighbours”</a></li> +<li>X. <a href="#CHAPTER_X">“He who Sows Hatred Shall Gather Rue”</a></li> +<li>XI. <a href="#CHAPTER_XI">“A Friend at One's Back is a Safe Bridge”</a></li> +</ul> + +<h3><a href="#PART_II">PART II</a></h3> + +<p> +MARGARET'S STORY +</p> + +<ul> +<li>XII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XII">What Happened in the Baie des Chaleurs</a></li> +<li>XIII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">Le Père Jean, Missionary to the Indians</a></li> +<li>XIV. <a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">I am Directed into a New Path</a></li> +<li>XV. <a href="#CHAPTER_XV">The Marquis de Montcalm-Gozon de St. Véran</a></li> +<li>XVI. <a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">At Beaulieu</a></li> +<li>XVII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">I Find Myself in a False Position</a></li> +<li>XVIII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">I am Rescued from a Great Danger</a></li> +<li>XIX. <a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">On the Isle Aux Coudres</a></li> +<li>XX. <a href="#CHAPTER_XX">At Quebec</a></li> +<li>XXI. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">I Awake from my Dream</a></li> +<li>XXII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">I am Tortured by Myself and Others</a></li> +<li>XXIII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">The Heights of Quebec</a></li> +<li>XXIV. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">Reconciliation</a></li> +<li>XXV. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">A Forlorn Hope</a></li> +</ul> + + +<h3><a href="#PART_III">PART III</a></h3> + +<p> +MAXWELL'S STORY +</p> + +<ul> +<li>XXVI. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">I Close One Account and Open Another</a></li> +<li>XXVII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">I Find a Key to my Dilemma</a></li> +<li>XXVIII. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">I Make a False Move</a></li> +<li>XXIX. <a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">I Put my Fortune to the Touch</a></li> +</ul> + + +<h3><a href="#EPILOGUE">Epilogue</a></h3> + + +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<ul> +<li><a href="#picture-0000">“'A REBEL WENCH, LADS, AND MUST SEE HER LOVER CLOSE!'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0020">“'THAT IS A LIE!' SHE SAID, CALMLY, RAISING HER FACE”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0028">“'WHY DO YOU SLEEP IN YOUR CLOTHES?'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0036">“'OH, YOUR GRACE, YOUR GRACE, HE IS ALL I HAVE LEFT IN THE WORLD!'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0048">“HE ORDERED HIS MEN TO GIVE WAY IN A VOICE THAT SUGGESTED THE CLAP OF A PRISON DOOR”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0052">“HOW I MADE THEM LAUGH OVER MY APPEARANCE!”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0060">“SHE STOOD ERECT, HER FACE WHITE WITH EMOTION”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0070">“'M. LE LIEUTENANT, YOU HAVE MY SINCEREST SYMPATHY!'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0088">“I CRAWLED OUT BRUISED, BUT OTHERWISE UNHURT”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0092">“'CHEVALIER, I KNOW YOU NOW'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0104">“AND LAID THEM GENTLY ON THE STREAM”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0110">“THE PRIEST RECITED THE HOLY OFFICE OF THE MASS”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0128">“'THERE IS LITTLE I WOULD NOT DO TO PLEASE LE PÈRE JEAN'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0136">“'THESE LETTERS CHANGE A DUTY INTO A PLEASURE'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0158">“THE TWO MEN STOOD FACING EACH OTHER IN SILENCE”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0160">“A STRAIGHT PILLAR OF FIRE WENT LEAPING UP INTO THE NIGHT”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0166">“HE CARRIED ME THROUGH MUD AND WATER, AND SET ME IN HIS SHALLOP”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0190">“AND, BOWING LOW, ANSWERED HER LIVELY GREETING”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0198">“TANTUM ERGO SACRAMENTUM VENEREMUR CERNUI”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0214">“WE MADE A SAD LITTLE PROCESSION”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0216">“'KEEP UP, MY LAD; YOU ARE AMONG FRIENDS!'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0228">“WITH HAT IN HAND CAME SPURRING ON”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0230">“'HE THAT DWELLETH IN THE SECRET PLACE OF THE MOST HIGH'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0252">“SHE SHORTENED UP STRAPS AND ADJUSTED BUCKLES”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0260">“'CALL OFF YOUR MEN, CAPTAIN NAIRN!'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0266">“HE THREW UP HIS HANDS WITH A WEAK CRY AND COVERED HIS FACE”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0268">“LIFTING HIS LANTHORN, HE HELD IT SO THAT THE LIGHT SHONE FULL UPON HER”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0276">“'I TAKE IT FOR GRANTED YOU ARE A NON-COMBATANT'”</a></li> +<li><a href="#picture-0306">“'THE SPAN O' LIFE'S NAE LANG ENEUGH,' ETC.”</a></li> +</ul> + + +<h2><a name="PART_I">Part I</a></h2> + +<p> +MAXWELL'S STORY +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Better the world should know you at a sinner than God as a +hypocrite.</i>”—Old Proverb. +</p> + + +<p> +THE SPAN O' LIFE +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h2> + +<p> +“AFTER HIGH FLOODS COME LOW EBBS” +</p> + +<p> +Every one knows of my connection with the ill-starred Rebellion of +Prince Charles, and for this it was that I found myself, a few +months after the disaster of Culloden, lying close in an obscure +lodging in Greek Street, Soho, London. +</p> + +<p> +Surely a rash proceeding, you may say, this adventuring into the +lion's den! But such has not been my experience: in an escalado, +he who hugs closest the enemy's wall has often a better chance than +he who lies at a distance. And so I, Hugh Maxwell of Kirkconnel, +Chevalier of the Order of St. Louis, Captain en seconde in Berwick's +Foot in the service of His Most Christian Majesty, and late +Aide-de-Camp to General Lord George Murray in the misdirected affair +of His Royal Highness Charles, Prince of Wales and Regent for his +illustrious father, “Jacobus Tertius, Rex Angliae, Hiberniae, et +Franciae, Dei Gratia”—Heaven save the mark!—found it safer and +more to my taste to walk abroad in London under the nose of the +usurping but victorious Hanoverian than to continue skulking under +the broader heavens of the Highlands. +</p> + +<p> +I will not deny there were moments when I would rather have been +enjoying the clearer atmosphere of France (for it is easier to put +a brave face on such dangers once they are safely overcome than +bear them with an unruffled fortitude at the time); but there I +was, with just enough money to discharge my most pressing necessities, +with the precious Cause for which I had sacrificed my hopes of +advancement in my own regiment blown to the four corners of the +Highlands—more remote and unknown up to this time than the four +corners of the earth, though to all appearance about to undergo +such a scouring when I left them that they would be uninhabitable +for any one who was not born with the Broad Arrow printed on his +back. +</p> + +<p> +I was lodging in the attic of a disreputable pot-house, kept by +one of those scurvy Scots who traded on his reputed disloyalty as +a lure to entice unfortunate gentlemen in similar plight to myself +under his roof, and then job them off to the government at so much +a head; but this I only knew of a certainty later. +</p> + +<p> +It was not long, however, before I was relieved from my penury at +least, for my cousin, Lady Jane Drummond, who since my childhood +had stood towards me in the relation of a mother, hearing from me +of my position, raised me above all anxiety in that respect. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot help reflecting here on the inopportuneness with which +Providence is sometimes pleased to bestow its gifts; the starving +wretch, houseless in the streets, has an appetite and a digestion +which, in this regard, make him the envy of the epicure, dowered +with a wealth useless in its most cherished application. And though +ingratitude has never been one of my faults, was it possible not +to feel some resentment at the comparative uselessness of a blessing +which fell at a time when I was debarred from any greater satisfaction +than paying my mean obligations or helping some more needy +unfortunate, while forced to look on those pleasures incidental to +a gentleman's existence with the unsatisfied eye of forbidden +indulgence? +</p> + +<p> +The banker, Mr. Drummond of Charing Cross, who was an old family +friend, and through whom I had received my remittance, could or +would give me no definite information of the movements of my cousin, +Lady Jane, or of her probable arrival at London, so I had nothing +to do but await further news and occupy my time as best I might. +</p> + +<p> +On my arrival I had laid aside all the outward marks of a gentleman, +dressing myself in imitation of—say a scrivener's clerk—and, save +for that bearing which is incorporate with one of my condition and +becomes a second nature, not to be disguised by any outward cloak, +I might fairly well pass for my exemplar. +</p> + +<p> +It was along in the month of July, when having become habituated +to my situation I was accustomed to move about with greater freedom, +that being in Fleet Street, I made one of the crowd to gaze at the +horrid spectacle of the heads of the unfortunate Messieurs Towneley +and Fletcher displayed on Temple Bar, whose cruel fate I had only +escaped by my firm resolution in withstanding the unreasonable +demands of the Duke of Perth to remain behind in their company in +Carlisle. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Grace, though I am willing to shed the last drop of my blood +for Prince Charles,” I had answered, with great firmness, “I will +never allow myself to be marked out as a victim for certain +destruction,” and I held to my place in the retreat. +</p> + +<p> +At such times the least error in judgment is certain to be attended +by a train of inevitable disaster, and apart from my own personal +escape, for which I am duly thankful, it was a satisfaction to me +that his Grace later on most handsomely acknowledged himself to +have been in the wrong. +</p> + +<p> +But to return: I was plunged in these sombre reflections when I +heard a cry near me, a cry that has never appealed to my support +in vain—that of a lady in distress. I turned at once, and there, +in full view of my sympathising eyes, was as fair an object as I +ever looked upon. An unfortunate lady, overcome by the sights and +sounds about her, had fallen back on the shoulder of her maid, who +supported her bravely; her black silken hood had been displaced, +and her rich amber-coloured hair in some disorder framed her lovely +face. Another moment and I was beside them, shifting the unconscious +lady to my left arm, to the great relief of the maid, who at once +recognised my quality in spite of my disguise. +</p> + +<p> +“Spy 'em close, my beauty! Spy 'em close! Only a penny!” shouted +a ruffian, holding a perspective-glass before the unhappy lady. “A +rebel wench, lads, and must see her lover close!” But I cut his +ribaldry short with a blow in the face, and with my foot pushed +off a wretched hag busily engaged in trying to find the pocket of +my poor charge, and made immediate move to withdraw her from the +crowd. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0000-large.jpg" name="picture-0000"> + <img src="images/picture-0000-small.jpg" + alt="A rebel wench, lads, and must see her lover close!"/></a> + +<p> +But my efforts were met with a storm of curses and howls from the +scum about us, and matters were fast growing serious, when a most +genteelly dressed man pushed in beside us, and, with sword in hand, +soon cleared a way, which I threaded with a determined countenance. +A moment or two concluded the affair, and we were safe. +</p> + +<p> +The lady recovered with surprising spirit, and turning to the +new-comer, cried: “Oh, Gaston! It was horrible beyond words!” and +she clasped his arm with both her shapely hands. +</p> + +<p> +We hurried on without further speech, looking for a hackney-coach; +and when this was found and hailed, the lady turned, and holding +out her hand to me, said: “Sir, forgive the discomposure which +prevented my sooner acknowledgment of your services. What would +have become of me without your aid? I cannot say half what I feel;” +and the lovely creature's eyes filled as she spake. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear young lady,” I said, bending over and kissing her hand, +“you could say nothing that would heighten the happiness I have +had in being of service to you;” and in order not to add to her +generous embarrassment I handed her into the coach, whereupon our +common rescuer giving a direction to the man, which I did not +overhear, she and her maid drove off. Then, not to be behind so +fair an original, I turned and complimented the stranger upon his +timely succour. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said he, in French, “I perceive, from some sufficient reason, +which I can readily divine, it is convenient for you to appear in +disguise.” +</p> + +<p> +“Truly, monsieur,” I returned, “I did not hope that a disguise +would protect me from a discerning eye such as yours, but it suffices +for the crowd. I am certain, though, that I confide in a gentleman +when I say I am Hugh Maxwell of Kirkconnel, late captain in Berwick's +Foot, and am entitled to qualify myself as Chevalier.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I, Chevalier,” he replied, with equal frankness, “am the +Vicomte Gaston de Trincardel, at present on a diplomatic mission +towards the Court.” +</p> + +<p> +Being equally satisfied with each other's condition, we repaired +to his lodgings in St. James's Street, where we fell into familiar +conversation, in the course of which the Vicomte said, +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose I am correct in my belief that you have been engaged in +the affair of Charles Edward?” +</p> + +<p> +“Unfortunately, yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any reliable intelligence of his whereabouts?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be absolutely frank with you, my dear Vicomte, it is a matter +of the most perfect indifference to me where he is, or what becomes +of him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens!” he exclaimed. “I cannot understand such a feeling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had you seen as much of him as I did, even when he was trying to +appear at his best as Fitzjames; had you been a daily spectator of +the inconceivable folly with which every chance was mismanaged, +every opportunity let slip; of the childish prejudice with which +every true friend was estranged, and of the silly vanity which +daily demanded new incense during the whole of this miserable +affair—you might understand without difficulty,” I returned, with +some little heat. +</p> + +<p> +“But, Chevalier,” he inquired, soothingly, “may I ask why you +followed his fortunes?” +</p> + +<p> +“From that, Vicomte, which I doubt not has ever guided your own +course in life, from the one motive that has alone influenced +me—principle. My people followed the fortunes of his grandfather +after the Boyne, and on both sides of my house, Maxwells and +Geraldines, our name has been synonymous with loyalty to the Stuart +cause abroad as well as at home.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know your name and its equivalent, Chevalier. May I ask to +which branch you belong?” +</p> + +<p> +“I scarce know how to qualify my standing,” I answered, laughing; +“we have been proscribed rebels so long that I have lost touch with +those things men most value in regard to family. Just as I am a +Chevalier without so much as a steed whereon to mount my knightship, +so am I a Maxwell of Kirkconnel without title to a rood of ground +or a kinsman within measurable distance; and my father before me +held naught he could call his own save his honour, my lady mother, +and my unworthy self. No! if there be a Spanish branch, I swear +I'll lay claim to that, for 'tis Spain assuredly that must hold my +flocks and herds, not to name my chateaux.” +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier,” he began, earnestly, “I shall esteem it a favour—” +</p> + +<p> +“Not for the world, my dear Vicomte! Money is the one anxiety which +seldom causes me a second thought. My habit of life is simple, +and my only ambition my profession. But to go back to the happy +chance of our meeting, may I inquire, without indiscretion, the +name of the young lady whom you rescued?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come, come! Honour where honour is due. I am no more responsible +for the rescue than yourself. The young lady is a Miss Grey, living +with her aunt in temporary lodgings in Essex Street, off the Strand.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a suspicion, sir, that the name may be as temporary as her +lodging, and that I am fortunate in applying to one who can give +me reliable information.” +</p> + +<p> +To this, however, the Vicomte only bowed somewhat stiffly, and +being unwilling that any contretemps should arise to mar so promising +an acquaintance—though the Lord only knows what umbrage any one +could take from my remark—I made my adieux, the Vicomte most +obligingly offering me his services should I wish to pass over to +France. But of these I could not as yet avail myself, as it was +necessary I should know of Lady Jane's intentions more definitely; +so, with my acknowledgments, the interview ended. +</p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h2> + +<p> +I DISCOVER A NEW INTEREST IN LIFE +</p> + +<p> +On my way back to Soho I turned over matters with interest. I had +but little difficulty in placing the Vicomte; he was one of those +clear, simple souls, very charming at times in woman, but less +acceptable in the man of the world. +</p> + +<p> +No one can admire purity of mind in a woman more than myself, but +I have no hesitation in stating that at times I find it positively +disconcerting when displayed in too obvious a degree by a man. In +woman, it is to be desired above all things, and woman is so far +superior to man in the manipulation of the more delicate qualities, +that she seldom errs in her concealments, and when she reveals, +she does so at the most opportune moment, and so effectively that, +though it be no more than a glimpse, it suffices. +</p> + +<p> +And these reflections brought me naturally to Miss Grey; indeed, +in fancy I had never been away from her since we met. The Vicomte's +manner absolutely confirmed me in my belief that the name was +assumed. +</p> + +<p> +Now if a man does not wish to tell you the truth, and the occasion +be important, he has just one of two alternatives: the one, is to +tell a lie with such assurance and bearing that it carries conviction +with it; but, egad! if he won't do that, then the only other is to +run you through. +</p> + +<p> +The Vicomte not having been ready for either, I was so far in his +confidence that I knew “Miss Grey” was an assumed name; and I +shrewdly suspected, from the familiarity of her manner with him, +that their mutual relation might be closer than he cared to admit—a +suspicion I resolved to put to the touch. Accordingly, the next +day I made as careful a toilet as my cursed disguise would admit +of, and took my way to Essex Street. +</p> + +<p> +Giving my name to the man at the door, for the lodgings were genteel +beyond the ordinary, which advanced me in my surmise as to the fair +one's condition, I was ushered into a drawing-room which would have +been much better for a little more light than was permitted to +enter through the drawn curtains. +</p> + +<p> +In a few moments the door opened and an elderly lady entered, whom +I conjectured to be the aunt. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” I said, bowing low, “it was my good fortune to be of some +slight service to your niece yesterday, and I have ventured to call +and inquire if the shock has proved at all serious. My name, madam, +is—” +</p> + +<p> +“Tut, tut, boy! None of your airs and graces with me! Your name is +Hughie Maxwell, and many's the time I've skelped you into good +manners. Come here and kiss your old cousin, you scamp!” And without +waiting for me to comply with her invitation, she threw her arms +about me and discomposed me sadly enough with an unexpected outburst +of weeping. +</p> + +<p> +When she had recovered somewhat we settled down to explanations; +questionings from her and answers from me, until at length she was +satisfied on all my movements. Then came my turn, and I began with +a definite object in view, but carefully guarding my advances, when +she cut my finessing short: +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Hughie, stop your fiddle-faddle, and ask me who 'my niece' +is. You stupid blockhead, don't you know your curiosity is peeking +out at every corner of your eyes? 'My niece' is Margaret Nairn.” +</p> + +<p> +“A relation of Lord Nairne?” +</p> + +<p> +“No one would count her so save a Highlander; they are from the +far North, not the Perth people; but don't interrupt! Her mother +and I were school-mates and friends somewhat more than a hundred +years ago. I have had the girl with me in Edinburgh and Paris, and +when I found she was doomed to be buried alive with her father in +their lonely old house in the Highlands, and neither woman nor +protector about, I took her, the child of my oldest friend, to my +care, and at no time have I been more thankful than now, when the +whole country is set by the ears. We are in London masquerading as +'Mistress Grey and her niece,' as her only brother, Archie, an +officer in the French service, is mixed up in this unfortunate +affair, and it is probably only a matter of time until he gets into +trouble and will need every effort I may be able to put forth in +his behalf. No, you have not come across him, for he was on some +secret mission; and it is possible he may not have set foot in +Scotland at all. We can but wait and see. Now that your curiosity +is satisfied, doubtless you are longing to see the young lady +herself; but let me warn you, Master Hughie, I will have none of +your philandering. Margaret is as dear to me as if she were my own +daughter born, and I may as well tell you at once I have plans for +her future with which I will brook no interference.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask, cousin, if your plans include M. de Trincardel?” +</p> + +<p> +“My certes! But it is like your impudence to know my mind quicker +than I tell it. Yes, since you must know, a marriage is arranged +between them, and I have pledged myself for Margaret's fitting +establishment. There it is all, in two words; and now I am going +for the young lady herself. See that you congratulate her.” +</p> + +<p> +Do not imagine that her conditions cost me a second thought, nor +the declaration of her future intentions a pang. My cousin was a +woman, and as such was privileged to change her mind as often as +she chose, and I was still young enough not to be worried by the +thought that some day I might not be the one called upon to step +into her comfortable shoes. As for the Vicomte, he must play for +his own hand. So I awaited with impatience the appearance of my +fair supplanter. +</p> + +<p> +She was much younger than I had supposed, not more than sixteen; +but if I had been mistaken in her age, I had not over-estimated +her beauty. Her hair was really the same rich amber-colour that +had awakened my admiration; her forehead was broad and low; her +eyes between hazel and gray, with clear, well-marked brows; her +nose straight and regular; and her mouth, though not small, was +beautifully shaped, with the least droop at the corners, which made +her expression winsome in the extreme. Her face was a little angular +as yet, but the lines were good, and her slightly pointed chin was +broken by the merest shadow of a dimple. She was taller than most +women, and if her figure had not rounded out to its full proportion, +her bearing was noble and her carriage graceful. +</p> + +<p> +Difficult as it is for me to give even this cold inventory of her +charms, the sweet witchery of her manner, the fall of her voice, +the winning grace that shone in her every look, are beyond my poor +powers of description. I felt them to my very heart, which lay in +surrender at her feet long before I realized it was even in danger. +</p> + +<p> +Our friendship began without the usual preliminaries of acquaintance. +My sacrifices in the Prince's cause were known to her through Lady +Jane; indeed, when I saw her noble enthusiasm, it fired me till I +half forgot my disappointments, and was once more so fierce a +Jacobite that I satisfied even her sweeping enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +If anything further was needed to heighten our mutual interest, it +was forthcoming in the discovery that I had been aide-de-camp to +Lord George Murray, whom she rightly enough regarded as the mainspring +of the enterprise, and to whom she may, in Highland fashion, have +been in some degree akin. +</p> + +<p> +Naught would satisfy her but that I should tell the story of my +adventures, should describe the Prince a thousand times—which I +did with every variation I could think of to engage her +admiration—should relate every incident and conversation with Lord +George, which I did the more willingly that I loved him from my +heart, and it required but little effort to speak of a man who had +played his part so gallantly. +</p> + +<p> +With Lady Jane as moved as Margaret herself, we sat till late, and, +like Othello, I told to the most sympathising ears in the world +the story of my life. They forgot the hour, the place, and all but +the moving recital; and I saw only the glistening eyes, sometimes +wide with horror, sometimes welling over with tears, and sometimes +sparkling with humour, until, like the Moor, I could almost persuade +myself that +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“She lov'd me for the dangers I had pass'd,</span> + <span class="i0">And I lov'd her that she did pity them.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +“Come, come, Hughie! We'll have no more of this! The child will +never close her eyes this night, and you should be ashamed, making +an exhibition of an old fool of a woman!” suddenly cried Lady Jane, +rising and wiping her eyes when I had finished telling of the death +of young Glengarry at Falkirk. And half laughing, half crying, she +kissed me and pushed me out of the room, before I had opportunity +to take a fitting farewell of Margaret, Pearl of all Women. +</p> + +<p> +“If the Vicomte can make any running that will count against this, +I'll be much surprised,” I thought to myself as I picked my way +home under a warm drizzle through the dirty, ill-lighted streets. +But outward discomforts mattered not a whit to me, for I had eaten +of the fruit of the gods, and that night I journeyed in the sunlight +of the Pays-du-Tendre, bearing in my heart the idol to which my +soul did homage, as I hummed over the song of some dead and forgotten +but valiant-hearted lady of my own house: +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“When day was deid I met my Dear</span> + <span class="i1">On fair Kirkconnel Lea,</span> + <span class="i0">Though fause een spied, I knew no fear,</span> + <span class="i1">His love was over me.</span> + <span class="i0">He kissed me fu' upon the mou',</span> + <span class="i1">He looked me in the ee,</span> + <span class="i0">An' whispered low, 'Nor life nor death</span> + <span class="i1">Shall part my Love frae me!'</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,</span> + <span class="i1">Nor deep eneugh the sea,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor braid eneugh this weary warld</span> + <span class="i1">To part my Love frae me!</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Though mony an' mony a day hath died</span> + <span class="i1">On fair Kirkconnel Lea</span> + <span class="i0">Sin' I stood by my True Love's side</span> + <span class="i1">An' melted 'neath his ee,</span> + <span class="i0">Yet ilka wind that fans my cheek</span> + <span class="i1">Kissed his in Germanie,</span> + <span class="i0">An' bids me bide; for what shall make</span> + <span class="i1">To part my Love frae me?</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,</span> + <span class="i1">Nor deep eneugh the sea,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor braid eneugh this weary warld</span> + <span class="i1">To part my Love frae me!”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +Do I need to relate the story of the next day, or of each one which +succeeded? Dear as it is to me, clearly as every fond remembrance +stands out before me, it might but weary a reader to whom I cannot +possibly convey even a conception of the sweet witchery of my +Margaret's engaging manner. Mine, though I might never possess her, +for I was too sincerely attached to Lady Jane to think of standing +in the way of her plans should she finally determine against me; +mine most of all, when I saw how eagerly the dear girl turned to +me whenever I appeared. +</p> + +<p> +The Vicomte often formed one of our party, and it was with some +distress that I saw he was inclined to interfere with the friendship +so happily begun. I have a natural inclination against giving pain; +there is already so much in this world which we cannot prevent, it +seems cruel to add to it intentionally, and it was not without +regret that I saw my innocent endeavours towards the entertainment +of Margaret caused him grave uneasiness. Still, as a man of breeding +he could not admit that his position in her affections was endangered, +and so kept on his way, though his evident disturbance told against +the effectiveness of his advances towards her, and at times rendered +his attack on me singularly unskilful. <i>Exempli gratia:</i> Margaret +was so visibly moved one day by the effect of my singing, for I +then possessed a voice justly admired by those best qualified to +judge, that he was indiscreet enough to remark on my choice of a +song, which was Jacobite to an extreme. +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier, only an artist could act a part so thoroughly.” +</p> + +<p> +It was embarrassing, but I was saved all necessity of a reply by +Margaret's generous outburst: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Gaston, for shame! You can never understand what it means to +have lost all for your Prince!” +</p> + +<p> +A somewhat more forceful rejoinder than I should have been able to +make, seeing I had so unguardedly revealed my sentiments on this +very subject to him at our first meeting. Therefore I at once +accepted her defence in the same spirit as it was given; indeed, +I had almost forgotten I had any rancour against the unfortunate +Charles, so completely was I dominated by her enthusiasm. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me sing you another,” I exclaimed, “written when our hopes +were still high.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” she cried, eagerly, clapping her hands. “Let us forget +it has all passed.” +</p> + +<p> +And I sang: +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“In far Touraine I'd watched each lagging day</span> + <span class="i1">Drag on to weary night,</span> + <span class="i0">I'd broke my heart when homing birds</span> + <span class="i1">Winged o'er me in their flight;</span> + <span class="i0">But a Blackbird came one golden eve</span> + <span class="i1">And rested on the wing,</span> + <span class="i0">And these were the heartsome words I heard</span> + <span class="i1">The bonnie Blackbird sing:</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“'Go bid your love bind in her hair</span> + <span class="i1">The blue of Scotland's Kings,</span> + <span class="i0">Go bid her don her bravest gown</span> + <span class="i1">And all her gauds and rings,</span> + <span class="i0">And bid her shine all maids above</span> + <span class="i1">As she can shine alone;</span> + <span class="i0">For the news was whispered in the night,</span> + <span class="i1">And the night hath told the day,</span> + <span class="i0">And the cry hath gone across the land</span> + <span class="i1">From Lochaber to the Tay!</span> + <span class="i0">From Lochaber far beyond the Tay</span> + <span class="i1">The glorious news hath flown—</span> + <span class="i0">So bid her don her best array,</span> + <span class="i1">For the King shall have his own</span> + <span class="i2">Once more!</span> + <span class="i0">The King shall have his own!”</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Beyond the Tweed I know each bonnie bird</span> + <span class="i1">That lilts the greenwood through,</span> + <span class="i0">I know each note from the mavis sweet</span> + <span class="i1">To the crooning cushie-doo;</span> + <span class="i0">But I ne'er had heard a song that gar'd</span> + <span class="i1">My very heart-strings ring</span> + <span class="i0">Till I heard that eve in far Touraine</span> + <span class="i1">The bonnie Blackbird sing:</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“'Go bid your love bind in her hair</span> + <span class="i1">The blue of Scotland's Kings,</span> + <span class="i0">Go bid her don her bravest gown</span> + <span class="i1">And all her gauds and rings,</span> + <span class="i0">And bid her shine all maids above,</span> + <span class="i1">As she can shine alone;—</span> + <span class="i0">For the news was whispered in the night,</span> + <span class="i1">And the night hath told the day,</span> + <span class="i0">And the cry hath gone across the land</span> + <span class="i1">From Lochaber to the Tay!</span> + <span class="i0">From Lochaber far beyond the Tay</span> + <span class="i1">The glorious news hath flown—</span> + <span class="i0">So bid her don her best array,</span> + <span class="i1">For the King shall have his own</span> + <span class="i2">Once more!</span> + <span class="i0">The King shall have his own!'”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +Lady Jane was in tears, and my Margaret was little better, though +smiling at me from the spinet, while the Vicomte sat the only +composed one in the room—I being affected, as I always am when I +hear a fine effort, whether by myself or another—when Mr. Colvill, +who was Lady Jane's man of business, entered to us, and without +any preamble began: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Maxwell, I have certain information that your lodgings will +be searched to-night, and I have a suspicion that you are the person +sought for.” +</p> + +<p> +My poor Margaret cried out and nearly swooned with terror, but Lady +Jane was herself at once. “Give over your nonsense, Peggy, this +instant! Hughie is not a mewling baby to be frightened, with a +warning before him! Colvill, you have acted with the discretion I +should have expected in you, and I thank you in my cousin's name +and my own. Hughie, do you find out some new place at once; I marked +a little sempstress who has a shop in Wych Street only the other +day, and I would apply there if you know of no other. Do not go +back to your old lodgings on any account. When I hear where you +are, I will supply you with everything needful.” +</p> + +<p> +The Vicomte very obligingly offered me the shelter of his roof for +the night, but I answered I could not think of exposing him, when +on diplomatic business, to the charge of sheltering a rebel, and +was pleased to have so handsome an excuse to cover my unwillingness +to lie under an obligation towards him. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment the whole aspect of our little party was changed, and +I took my way to seek for a new shelter, leaving anxious hearts +behind me. +</p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h2> + +<p> +“THE DEAD AND THE ABSENT ARE ALWAYS WRONG” +</p> + +<p> +I myself was not greatly disturbed over the turn things had taken, +for I had begun to be suspicious of my thrifty Scot in Greek Street, +and, as I had left behind me neither papers nor effects which could +compromise myself or others when he laid his dirty claws upon them, +I turned my back on him without regret. +</p> + +<p> +The hour was late to enter upon a search for new lodgings without +arousing suspicion, and this determined me to try the sempstress +indicated by Lady Jane. +</p> + +<p> +I found the street without difficulty, and, what was better, without +questioning, and soon discovered the little shop with a welcome +gleam of light shewing through the closed shutters. The street was +empty, so I advanced, and, after knocking discreetly, tried the +door, which, to my surprise, I found open, and so entered. +</p> + +<p> +In a low chair behind the counter sate a solitary woman, sewing by +the indifferent light of a shaded candle. She looked at me keenly +and long, but without alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” said I, closing the door behind me and slipping in the +bolt, “have no fear. My name is Captain Geraldine.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a lie,” she said, calmly, raising her face so the full +light of the candle should fall upon it. +</p> + + +<a href="images/picture-0020-large.jpg" name="picture-0020"> + <img src="images/picture-0020-small.jpg" + alt="'That is a lie,' she said, calmly, raising her face."/></a> + +<p> +Great heavens! It was that of my wife! +</p> + +<p> +I sank down on a settle near the wall and stared at her, absolutely +speechless with surprise and horror, while she continued her sewing +without a second look, though I could mark her hands were trembling +so she could hardly direct her needle. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God! Lucy! Is it really you?” I cried, scarce believing the +evidence of my senses. +</p> + +<p> +“I am she whom you name.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you know me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that you are Hugh Maxwell,” she answered, in the same steady +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“And you know that I am your husband.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no husband. My husband is dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lucy, do not break my heart! I am not a scoundrel! Do you think +for a moment I could abandon the girl who trusted and married me? +I had the most positive intelligence of your death. Lucy, Lucy, +for God's sake speak, and do not torture me beyond endurance. Tell +me what has happened.” +</p> + +<p> +But the trembling hands went on with their task, though she neither +raised her head nor spake. My brain was in a whirl, and I did not +know what to think or how to act, so I preserved at least an outward +quiet for a time, trying to imagine her position. +</p> + +<p> +I was but eighteen when I had married her, a tradesman's daughter, +but my uncertain allowance, as well as the certain wrath of my +family, prevented me acknowledging her as my wife, and no one except +her mother knew of our union. +</p> + +<p> +As I sate trying to find some light, I heard the cry of a lusty +child: “Mother! Mother!” At this her face contracted as with sudden +pain, and saying only, “Wait where you are,” she left the shop. +</p> + +<p> +I noticed she had still the same quick, light way of moving, “like +a bird,” I used to tell her in the old days: it was but the dull, +ungenerous colour and shape of her stuff gown that hid the dainty +figure I had known, and only some different manner of dressing her +hair that prevented the old trick of the little curls that would +come out about her ears and forehead. +</p> + +<p> +While she was away I thought it all out, and my heart melted with +pity for the poor soul, forced to these years of loneliness, to +this daily struggle for the support of herself and her child—our +child—and, more than all else, to the torturing thought that the +love which had been the sum of her existence was false. What should +I do? Could I be in doubt for a moment? I would make up to her, by +the devotion of a heart rich in feeling, all the sorrows of the +past. +</p> + +<p> +Here she entered again, but now collected and herself as at first. +I rose and advanced to meet her, but she waved me off, and took up +her sewing again in her former position. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucy,” I said, standing over her, “does not the voice of our +child—for I cannot doubt it is our child—plead for me? Listen a +moment. When I returned from that ill-starred Russian voyage, I +flew at once to join you. You had been in my heart during all my +absence, and my return home was to be crowned with your love. But, +to my consternation, I found strangers occupying the old rooms, +and the woman told me with every circumstance of harrowing detail +the story of your death by typhus, and that your mother followed +you to the grave scarce a day later. Heartbroken as I was, I never +sought for further confirmation than the nameless graves she pointed +out to me by your parish church. She told me, too, your effects +were burned by order of the overseers, and I took it for granted +she had stolen anything of value that might have been left. When +I found at my banker's that a lieutenancy in Berwick's was awaiting +my application, I only too eagerly seized the opportunity of escaping +from a country where I should be constantly reminded of my ruined +past, and since that day I have never set foot in London till the +present. Oh, Lucy! Lucy! I see it all now. The birth of our child +was approaching. You, poor soul, were an unacknowledged wife; I +was wandering, a shipwrecked stranger beyond all means of +communication, and you fled from the finger of shame that cruel +hands would hare pointed at you. Why that hag should have gone to +such lengths to deceive me I cannot even guess. But now, my dear +love, my dearest wife, it is at an end! I have a position—at least +I am a captain, with fair chance of promotion—I no longer have a +family to consider, and once I get out of this present trap I will +acknowledge you before the whole world, and we will wipe out the +cruel past as if it had never existed.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no past,” she said, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Lucy darling, as truly as I am your husband I will make you +a future.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no husband,” she answered, in the same quiet tone: “my +husband died the day my boy was born.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Lucy, my wife, you have love?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not such love as you mean. My love, such as it is here, is for my +boy. All else is for something beyond.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Lucy, have you nothing left for me? Surely you do not doubt +my word?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” she answered, slowly. “You have never deceived me that I know +of. Until to-night I believed you had left me, but I know now, it +is I who have left you. There never can be anything between us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Lucy? Tell me why! Do not sit there holding yourself as if +you were apart from me and mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have just said the very words which explain it all,” she +answered. “I am indeed 'apart from you and yours.' Your explanation +now makes clear why you did not seek me out on your return, and I +accept it fully. But think you for a moment that this wipes out +all I have suffered through these years? Can you explain away, by +any other statement, save that I was 'apart from you and yours.' +the cruel wrong you did when you left me, a helpless girl without +experience, in a position where I was utterly defenceless against +evil tongues in the hour of my trial; so that what should have been +my glory was turned into a load of disgrace which crushed me and +killed my mother? To say you intended to return is no answer, no +defence. You knew all about a world of which I was ignorant, and +you should have shielded me by your knowledge. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not think I am unhuman, I am simply unfeeling on the side to +which you would appeal. I have lived too long alone, I have suffered +too much alone, to look to any human creature for such help or such +comfort as you would bring. I know you were honest, I know you were +loving and tender, but that has all passed for me. You do not come +into my life at any point; I can look on you without a throb of my +heart either in love or in hate—” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Lucy, I am not changed. I am the same Hugh Maxwell you knew.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are Hugh Maxwell—but there is no question of likeness, of +being the same, for there is no Lucy. She is as really dead to you +to-day as you thought when you mourned her six years ago. The +'Mistress Routh' who speaks now is a widow, by God's grace a member +of the Society of Methodists, and you need never seek through her +to find any trace of the girl you knew. She is dead, dead, dead, +and may the Lord have mercy on her soul!” +</p> + +<p> +It was like standing before a closed grave. +</p> + +<p> +Against this all my prayers, my tears, my entreaties, availed +nothing, until at last I ceased in very despair at the firmness of +this unmovable woman, whom I had left a pretty, wilful, changeable +girl a few years before. +</p> + +<p> +The candle had long since burned itself out, and the gray of the +morning was beginning to struggle in at every opening when I gave +up the contest. +</p> + +<p> +“Mistress Routh,” said I, smiling at the odd address, “I have been +overlong in coming to my business. I am a proscribed rebel with a +price set on my head, and I seek a new lodging, my old one being +unsafe. I was directed here almost by chance. Can you give me such +room as you can spare? There is but little or no danger in harbouring +me, for I am reported to be in Scotland with the Prince, 'the Young +Pretender,' if you like it so. I will be as circumspect in my +movements as possible. Above all, I will never shew by word or sign +that I knew you before, even when we are alone, nor will I betray +your secret to our boy. You are free to refuse me, and should you +do so, I will seek shelter elsewhere; but whether I go or stay, I +give you my word of honour as a gentleman that your secret rests +where it lies in my heart until such time as you see fit to proclaim +it yourself. Will you, then, consent to let me have a room under +your roof until such time as I can get over to France?” +</p> + +<p> +After a little she said: “Yes; I can take your word. But remember, +from this night you are a stranger to me. You will pay as a +stranger, and come and go as a stranger.” +</p> + +<p> +And so this unnatural treaty was ratified. My hostess made such +preparation for my comfort as I would allow, and when alone I sate +on my couch trying to put my thoughts in order. +</p> + +<p> +It was only then that Margaret came back to me. During my long +struggle with my poor wife no thought of another had entered my +mind, my whole endeavour being directed towards making such amends +for the cruelties of an undeserved fate as were possible; but now, +when alone, the realisation of what it meant in my relation towards +Margaret overwhelmed me. All unwittingly I had been playing the +part of a low scoundrel towards the fairest, purest soul in the +whole world; I had been living in a Fool's Paradise, drinking the +sweetest draught that ever intoxicated a human soul, and now, +without an instant's warning, the cup was dashed from my lips. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Margaret! Poor Lucy! Poor Hugh! My heart was aching for them +all. +</p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h2> + +<p> +IN WHICH I MAKE ACQUAINTANCE WITH ONE NEAR TO ME +</p> + +<p> +I stretched myself out at length, with my cloak over me, and dozed +uneasily until awakened by a soft knocking at the door, which was +slowly pushed open, and a brown head made its appearance in the +room. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” I cried, and there entered to me as handsome a boy of +six as ever delighted a man's eyes. +</p> + +<p> +I would have given the world to take him to my heart, but I was on +parole. So we stared at each other, and I can only hope he was as +well satisfied with his inspection as I was with mine. +</p> + +<p> +“Does your mother know of your coming?” I asked, for I was determined +to take no unfair advantage. +</p> + +<p> +“She told me I could come,” he answered, without any backwardness, +yet with modesty. +</p> + +<p> +“Good. Well, what do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you sleep in your clothes?” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0028-large.jpg" name="picture-0028"> + <img src="images/picture-0028-small.jpg" + alt="Why do you sleep in your clothes?"/></a> + +<p> +“Oh, a soldier often sleeps in his clothes.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I don't think you're a soldier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is your sword?” +</p> + +<p> +“I'll get that by-and-by.” +</p> + +<p> +“If I was a soldier I'd sleep with my sword.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you'd find it a mighty uncomfortable bedfellow,” I answered, +laughing. At which he laughed too, and we were fast becoming friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you be a soldier?” I went on. +</p> + +<p> +“I don't know. What's your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“One moment, my young diplomat. Do you never answer a question but +by asking another? Surely you're not a Scotchman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don't know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, what do you think you are?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I'm a Methodist.” +</p> + +<p> +“So you are. But that may be much the same thing, for aught I know. +My name's Captain Geraldine. Now tell me yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Christopher. Can you sing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can sing, my boy, like a mavis, like a bird-of-paradise. Would +you like to taste my quality?” and without more ado I sang to him. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,</span> + <span class="i1">Nor deep eneugh the sea,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor braid eneugh this weary warld</span> + <span class="i1">To part my Love frae me.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +“I like that,” he said, gravely, when I had made an end. “You sing +well.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I have been informed, sir; and I am most sensible of your +confirmation of the favourable verdict, which is flattering beyond +my poor deserts.” +</p> + +<p> +But he did not find this at all to his taste, and I was sorry to +see my untimely nonsense caused him to shrink somewhat from me, +which hurt me to a degree I could not have believed possible. +</p> + +<p> +But my embarrassment was relieved by his mother's voice calling us +from the foot of the stairs, and hand in hand we went down together. +</p> + +<p> +I looked at my hostess with much curiosity, and found her quiet +and serene, though the traces of the anxiety of overnight were +visible in her pale face and tired eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Mistress Routh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good-morning, Captain Geraldine. I see my boy has taken to you; +it is a good sign.” +</p> + +<p> +The words were like balm to me, and I looked at her searchingly to +see expected signs of relenting, but I recognised only too clearly +it was the kindly civility of an entire stranger, and I felt more +strongly than at any moment before that the door of the past was +irrevocably closed between us. +</p> + +<p> +I sate down at the table, but she remained standing, and folding +her hands, repeated a long grace. It was so utterly strange, so +utterly foreign to all I had ever known of her, that it deepened +the impression tenfold that I belonged to a world apart from hers. +In a sense it shocked my feeling of what was proper. Her Protestantism +had never been any barrier in our life together, for I have known +too many different ways to happiness not to believe there may be +more than one to heaven. I have known too many devout Protestants +to have a shadow of doubt as to their sincerity; but I have always +been a believer in the established order of things, and for a woman +to take any part in matters religious, beyond teaching her children +their hymns and prayers, was foreign to my experience. +</p> + +<p> +We ate our breakfast to the accompaniment of the boy's chatter, +and if there were any embarrassment, I am free to confess it was +on my side alone. I could perfectly understand her courage and +resolution of the night before, but this wonderful acting was simply +marvellous; it was, as far as I knew, no more possible to the Lucy +I had known than talking Castilian; but, upon my soul, I never +admired her more in my life. This, however, I took good care not +to shew in word or gesture: if she had so utterly renounced all +vanities and pomps, why should she have the incense of admiration? +She would probably consider it an offering to idols. +</p> + +<p> +“Mistress Routh, if my presence will not discommode you, I purpose +to lie quiet for a day or two, until I can get such clothes as may +serve both as a change of character and a more fitting appearance +for myself. Do you happen to know of so rare a bird as a periwig-maker +who can keep his counsel? If I could have such an one attend me +here, I could at least do away with this lanky hair and fit myself +to a decent wig; then I could venture out under cover of a cloak, +and find a tailor to complete the transformation. But I take it +you may know but little of these manlike fripperies.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do know a man who may be trusted, who, though a member of our +Society, is forced to gain his living by like vanities,” she +returned. +</p> + +<p> +“Madam,” said I, “you evidently do not estimate the quality of +vanity at its proper value. Now I hold it in reality to be the +eighth of the Cardinal Virtues. I have known it to keep men from +being slovenly through their regard for the outward respect of +others, and cleanliness comes very near to godliness. I have known +it to keep men out of low company through their desire to catch a +reflected glory from their superiors, and company is an informant +of character. I have even known it to make men open-handed through +a dislike to appear niggardly in public, and—” But I saw a look +of such evident distress on the face before me that I checked my +flight in very pity. A man with any sensibility will find himself +constantly curbed by his regard for the feelings of others. +</p> + +<p> +When Mistress Routh's assistant appeared I took the opportunity of +sending a note to Lady Jane, telling of my whereabouts, and that +I would present myself in a day or two when I had effected sufficient +change in my appearance. +</p> + +<p> +This I was enabled to do by the help of the wig-maker—who was +clever enough with what he put outside other men's heads, though +I could not think so highly of what he had got into his own—and +by a liberal supply of gold pieces to my tailor. +</p> + +<p> +I was now dressed with some approach to my ideas of what was fitting, +and my own satisfaction was only equalled by that of little +Christopher. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Kit, my boy,” I admonished him, for I felt it incumbent on me +to contribute somewhat to the general morality of such a household, +“I am no more Captain Geraldine in these fine feathers than I was +in the scurvy black of the lawyer's clerk.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you feel more like Captain Geraldine,” the boy said, pertinently +enough. +</p> + +<p> +“I do, my boy, I do, for I am still subject to the vanities of the +flesh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don't say that!” the boy cried, half angrily—“that is like they +talk at meeting,” and I felt ashamed I should have let slip anything +before the child that could hurt his sense of my bearing towards +what his mother respected, though I was puzzled to rightly estimate +his own expression. +</p> + +<p> +“I won't, my lad, but listen!” and I gave my sword a flourish and +began the rattling air, +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Dans les gardes françaises</span> + <span class="i0">J'avais un amoureux—”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +and then I suddenly reflected I had no right to sing these ribald +songs before the boy, even though he might not understand a word, +and again I was ashamed, so fell a-story-telling, and I told him +tales that made even his favourites of Agag and Sisera seem pale, +and the singing was forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +Though these constant talks with Kit, who would scarce be kept a +moment from my side, were entertaining enough, and my heart warmed +more and more to him as I saw his strong young feeling blossom out, +I could not help the time dragging most wearisomely. The evenings +were intolerable, and I felt the atmosphere absolutely suffocating +at times. Mistress Routh was so completely Mistress Routh I soon +realised that the Lucy in her was of a truth not only dead but +buried out of my sight forever. Now if I have a failing, it is of +too keen an enjoyment of the present, rather than an indulgence in +unavailing regrets for the past, so that in a little I began to +speculate if the Hugh Maxwell who was the Hugh Maxwell of this +buried Lucy had not vanished also. Certainly I was not the Hugh +Maxwell she knew. She said so herself; she showed only too plainly +I had neither plot nor lot in her present life; and, after all, +the life that is lived is the life that is dead. So I accepted what +I had done my best to refuse, and turned again to the only life +that was open before me—I went to Lady Jane's that very evening. +</p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h2> + +<p> +I ASSIST AT AN INTERVIEW WITH A GREAT MAN +</p> + +<p> +I found the household in Essex Street in a state of perturbation +which was soon explained. News had come that Margaret's brother +Archibald had been arrested, as Lady Jane had foreseen, and was +now confined in Fort William. Margaret, though distressed greatly, +was such an ardent Jacobite that I verily believe she would rather +have seen her brother in some danger of losing his head than have +had him out of the business altogether. +</p> + +<p> +She was neither so distressed nor elated, however, that she was +oblivious to my altered appearance, and I could see Lady Jane +herself was well pleased that her Hughie should cut somewhat of a +figure in the eyes of her protégée. She had a natural desire to +justify her affections. +</p> + +<p> +But I simply mark this in passing; the real business in hand was +to devise some means for young Nairn's safety. This was the less +serious inasmuch as he certainly had never been in arms for the +Prince, and had been prudent enough to destroy all evidence of his +secret mission—in fact, his letter informed us that the one man +capable of giving evidence against him was withheld by circumstances +so disgraceful to himself there was no danger of any direct testimony +on this point. +</p> + +<p> +The position could not be more favourable, and it was only a question +of the most judicious plan of succour. +</p> + +<p> +The Vicomte, though desirous of alleviating Margaret's anxiety, +was debarred by his position from taking any active part, a +circumstance of which I was not backward in taking advantage; for +though the late distressing revelation—I refer to my meeting with +Mistress Routh—prevented my making any personal advances towards +Margaret, common humanity prompted me to my utmost efforts for her +relief. +</p> + +<p> +Finally it was determined that Lady Jane should obtain a private +interview with the Duke of Newcastle, and, accompanied by Margaret, +make a personal appeal, which, from Lady Jane's connections, we +flattered ourselves had some hopes of success. +</p> + +<p> +“Cousin,” I said, “I have a proposal. Let me go with you. I am +quite unknown, my accent at least is not that of a Scotchman, so +I shall not in any way imperil your success, and I have had some +small experience with my superiors which may not be without its +use.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Hughie, I may not have the same admiration as yourself for +your accent, but I have the firmest belief in your confidence: that +will not betray you in any strait. And I am as firm a believer in +having a man about; they are bothersome creatures often, but have +their uses at times. At all events, I feel safer in their company; +they bring out the best in me. Yes, on the whole, I think you had +better come.” +</p> + +<p> +The following week, through the services of the Vicomte, we were +enabled to arrange for a meeting with the Duke at his house, and +accordingly one morning we took our way by coach to Lincoln's Inn +Fields. +</p> + +<p> +We were ushered into his presence with marvellously little ceremony, +and found him seated at a desk covered with a litter of papers +before a blazing fire, for it was early in January. +</p> + +<p> +He did not pay the slightest attention to the announcement of our +names, beyond raising his head and saying rapidly, without even +returning our salutation, “Yes, yes, yes; be seated, be seated,” +with such a hurried, stuttering stammer that I felt reassured at +once, though I could see both my companions were somewhat overawed +now they were in the presence of the Great Man. +</p> + +<p> +As he kept shuffling over his papers, now reading a few words from +one, then throwing it down, and mixing a dozen others up in hopeless +confusion, now writing a bit, and then frowning and waving his pen, +I felt still more assured, for it all went to show he was only an +ordinary human creature under all his titles and dignities, and +was no more free from little affectations than any other mortal +might be. +</p> + +<p> +At length he ceased his pretence of work, for it was nothing else, +and took notice of us. +</p> + +<p> +“Ladies, I ask your pardon—your pardon. Yes, yes, let me see, you +have some appointment with me. Eh, what was it again? Oh, I remember, +you are Lady Enderby. Yes, yes—” +</p> + +<p> +“No, your Grace; I am Lady Jane Drummond; this is my ward, Miss +Margaret Nairn, and this my cousin, Captain Geraldine; our business +is to implore your Grace's assistance towards the release of her +brother, Captain Nairn, arrested in error, and now confined in Fort +William.” +</p> + +<p> +“Awkward, eh? Mistakes like that might be very awkward—very awkward +indeed. No doubt he is one of these pestilent rebels—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, your Grace, he has never drawn sword in the matter at all; +and what is more, he is an officer in the French service, holding +his full commission therein.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I have no doubt he is the most innocent creature in the world! +but will you explain, madam, what he was doing in Scotland just +when the rebels happened to be in full swing—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, your Grace, he never put foot in Scotland until this +unhappy business was ended at Culloden.” +</p> + +<p> +“That's a pity, now, a great pity. As the vulgar say, he came 'just +a day too late for the fair.' Had he only come in time, his Majesty +might have had one rebel less to deal with, and—” +</p> + +<p> +But he was cut short by poor Margaret, who, unable to stand the +torture any longer, wailed out: “Oh, your Grace, do not say that! +My father was buried only a few months before my brother was +arrested, and he is the only one near to me now left.” +</p> + +<p> +Even the abominable flippancy of the man before us was arrested by +the sight of the anguish of this dear soul, and with some approach +to sensibility he said: +</p> + +<p> +“There, there, my dear! We cannot mend matters now.” And for some +minutes he heard and questioned Lady Jane with some shew of decency, +but evidently with an effort, for it was not long before he broke +out again: “How much simpler it would all be if you did not interfere, +madam!” +</p> + +<p> +This angered her beyond control, and she replied: “Your Grace may +have no feeling for the sorrow that breaks the hearts of others, +but this is only a case for common justice.” +</p> + +<p> +“You, you, you have a keen sense of justice, madam,” he stammered, +much nettled. “You are not wanting in courage, either; 'tis a pity +you could not have turned your talents to some account.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Margaret, seeing the turn things were taking, now advanced, +and throwing herself at his feet, poured forth her heart to him in +entreaties with the tears running down her lovely face. At first +he seemed much moved, and shifted himself in his chair most +uncomfortably, fairly squirming like a worm on a pin; but, to my +disappointment, I soon saw he was coming back to his usual humour, +even as she was entreating—“Oh, your Grace, your Grace, he is all +I have left in the world! I have been a motherless girl since I +can remember; I have been away from my father, at school for years; +and my brother whom I played with, the one person whom I have prayed +for more than all others, is now in danger of his life”—and she +ended in a burst of sobs. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0036-large.jpg" name="picture-0036"> + <img src="images/picture-0036-small.jpg" + alt="Oh, Your Grace, Your Grace, he is all I have left in the world."/></a> + +<p> +For answer he merely yawned, and said, turning to me, “What did +you say your name was—eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“Geraldine, your Grace.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh! No particular family, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, your Grace, of no family in particular,” I answered. +</p> + +<p> +“He! he! he!” cackled his Grace. “Oh, I can see farther than I get +credit for! You, you, you'll remedy that some day—eh? Miss—Miss— +What did you say your name was?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nairn, your Grace,” answered poor Margaret, still sobbing, while +Lady Jane stood glowering behind her. My gorge rose at his +heartlessness. +</p> + +<p> +“Nairn. Umph! That's an evil-smelling name these days for any such +petition,” he grumbled. +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly turning to face me, “Now I suppose you had nothing +to do with this barelegged rebellion?” he went on, to my dismay, +but answered it himself with a self-satisfied chuckle: “But no, of +course not. You never would have come here if you had. No, no! No +man of sense would.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think not!” snorted Lady Jane, fairly beside herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Quite right, madam, quite right. You are a woman, of perspicacity,” +answered his lordship, without a ruffle. Then he turned to me +again: +</p> + +<p> +“And pray what did bring you here, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Grace, it was at my earnest recommendation these ladies were +moved to appear in person to lay their case before the most powerful +nobleman in the Three Kingdoms. They come here, your Grace, not to +plead, but to explain. Their explanation is now made, and they are +satisfied it is in the hands of one who is ever ready to listen to +the suit of innocence, whose whole life is a guarantee for the +exercise of justice, and whose finger need but be lifted to relieve +the unfortunate from unmerited disgrace.” +</p> + +<p> +To my surprise, he did not seem so taken with my effort as I had +hoped. Even as I was speaking he had thrown himself back in his +chair, and sate resting his elbows on the arms, staring at me over +his finger-tips in the most disconcerting fashion without moving +a muscle of his face. I was positively afraid to venture a word +more under the spell of that equivocal gaze. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes, yes,” he broke out, suddenly, drawing himself close up +to his desk and seizing a pen, with which he began making slow +notes on the paper before him. +</p> + +<p> +“What did you say the young man's name was?” he muttered. “Oh, yes, +Nairn—Archibald Nairn. Yes. Fort William—eh? French officer in +active service. And you can give me your word he was not in arms— +eh?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can, your Grace, without hesitation.” +</p> + +<p> +The moment I had spoken I saw my mistake. So did his Grace, who +wheeled round on me like a flash. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir, I take it you are in a position to know!” +</p> + +<p> +My blood fairly ran cold, for I saw only too clearly his folly of +manner was but a cloak, and that now it was quite as much a question +of myself as of Nairn. +</p> + +<p> +“I am, your Grace,” I answered, in my most assured tones. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you are able to produce a muster-roll of the rebel +forces—eh, Captain Fitzgerald? That would be highly satisfactory +in more ways than one.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, your Grace, this is no laughing matter. Your Grace has my +word of honour that Captain Nairn was not in Scotland until after +Culloden was fought—” +</p> + +<p> +“—And lost—Captain Fitzgerald? Surely that is not the way for a +loyal subject to put it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot cross swords with your Grace,” I returned, with a low +bow to cover my trepidation; “even if our positions did not make +it an impossibility, it would be too unequal a contest.” +</p> + +<p> +The flattery was gross, and only my apprehensions could excuse its +clumsiness, but to my intense relief it availed, and he turned to +his desk again, while I held my breath expectant of his next attack. +But none came. He muttered and mumbled to himself, while we stood +stock-still, scarce venturing to look at each other, for the fate +of Nairn was hanging in the balance, and a straw might turn it +either way. At length he picked up his pen and wrote rapidly for +a few moments; then carefully sanding the paper he read it over +slowly, still muttering and shaking his head; but at last, turning +to Margaret, who all this time had remained on her knees, he handed +it to her, saying: +</p> + +<p> +“There, miss; take it, take it. Get married; get your brother +married; but for Heaven's sake don't bring up any little rebels! +And Captain Fitzgerald,” he added, meaningly, “don't imagine I +can't see as far as other men! No thanks! No! I hate thanks, and +tears—and—and—Good-morning, ladies, good-morning!” whereupon +he rose and shuffled over in front of the fire, where he stood +rubbing his hands, leaving us to bow ourselves out to a full view +of his back, which, upon my soul, was a fairer landscape than his +face—but with Margaret holding fast the order for her brother's +release. +</p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h2> + +<p> +HOW I TAKE TO THE ROAD AGAIN, AND OF THE COMPANY +I FALL IN WITH +</p> + +<p> +I fully expected an outburst from Lady Jane the moment we were in +the coach, but all she said was: +</p> + +<p> +“Such a man! I have known women silly and vain; I have known women +cruel and brainless; but such a combination of the qualities I +never expected to meet in man; it makes me blush for the vices of +my sex!” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not scold him, dear, do not scold him!” cried Margaret, joyously. +“My heart is too full of thankfulness to hear a word against him.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Mistress—Margaret,” said I, “I would not for the world +dash your joy, but there is still much to do, for I doubt if even +the King could give a pardon off-hand in this fashion. Remember, +England is not France.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, do not say it is useless!” she cried, in sudden alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Not useless, certainly. I doubt, however, if the presentation of +that scrap of paper before the gates of Fort William would reward +you with anything more than the most bitter of disappointments and +a broken heart. It was an easy way enough for his Grace to rid +himself of our importunities, but we'll make it more effective than +he guesses. Now is the time for the Vicomte to play his part. He +is in a position where, with many anxious to do him favours, he +can readily place this in the proper channel where it will go +through the necessary hands, of which we know nothing, and could +not reach if we did; he can so place it without reflection on his +position, without suspicion of his motive, and I'm certain you can +count upon his best efforts in your service.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Hughie!” broke in Lady Jane; “you needn't be trying +to take credit to yourself for what Gaston is only too ready to +do. That your flattering and ready tongue stood us in good stead +with this silly noddy I'll not dispute, but I can readily see as +clearly as he says he can; and though your suggestion is good, it +should end there. Let Gaston make his offers himself.” +</p> + +<p> +So I laughed, and at once abandoned that line of approach. Lady +Jane might not always have control of her temper, but she knew +every move a man might make, even before he realised it himself, +as in the present instance; possibly this was the reason she was +so tolerant of my sex. +</p> + +<p> +However, I had but little time for such reflections. The more I +thought over the end of our interview with the Duke the less I +liked it, and on comparing impressions with Lady Jane on our arrival +at Essex Street, she quite agreed that I was in a ticklish position. +London was then infested with spies, most of whom had a keen scent +for what the failure of our late enterprise had now fixed as treason, +and despite my precaution in keeping out of questionable resorts +and company, I knew that in my case 'twas little more difficult to +smoke the Jacobite, than the gentleman, in whatever disguise I +might assume. +</p> + +<p> +“Hughie, I'm not one for silly alarms,” said Lady Jane, “but I +mistrust that doddering old pantaloon, and 'you must build a high +wall to keep out fear.' You've done all you can here, and I doubt +but you've got yourself in a rare coil in the doing of it. Now to +undo it as best we may.” +</p> + +<p> +“I'll not deny that things look 'unchancy,' as we say in the North, +Cousin Jane; but, for the life of me, I don't see how they are to +be bettered by anything I can do now.” +</p> + +<p> +“My heart! But men are slow to see ahead! We will be away out of +this the moment we are assured of this young callant's safety, in +a week or so at most, I hope. I will take ship from Harwich, and +you shall journey with us as my servant, my courier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think that is absolutely necessary, cousin?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hughie, Hughie, how long will you continue to walk with Vanity?” +</p> + +<p> +“Just so long as I must lie down with Adversity, cousin. Cannot +you understand it is humiliating for a man of my condition to go +masquerading about the country as a lackey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so readily as I can understand the awkwardness of being laid +by the heels, Master Hughie. Now don't have any more nonsense! Do +you start off this very night for Huntingdon, and lie at the Bell +Inn there, until you hear from me. It will not be for more than a +week. Let me see, yes, 'Simpkin' will be a good name for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do I look like Simpkin?” I returned, indignantly. +</p> + +<p> +“My certes, no! You look more like the Grand Turk at the moment,” +she answered, laughing. “But you must conceal your rank, my lord, +by your modesty and 'Mr. Simpkin,' until I can offer it a more +effective covering in a suit of bottle-green livery.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust your ladyship will not require any reference as to +character?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is written on your face, sir. There! I will countersign it for +you,” whereat she put her two hands on my cheeks and kissed me. +</p> + +<p> +“'Pon my soul, Cousin Jane, I don't wonder the men raved over you!” +I said, in admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“No, poor things, it doesn't take much to set them off at the best +of times. But do not begin your flatteries, Hughie; even age is no +warrant for common-sense when it meets with old gratifications. Be +off, now, and get back here for supper, ready for your travels.” +</p> + +<p> +I hurried off to my old lodgings, and soon made such preparation +for my journey as was necessary. +</p> + +<p> +When I parted from Mistress Routh I said: “I have learned during +the time spent under your roof how irrevocable your resolve is, +and have accepted it as absolutely as yourself, but now that I am +going away from England, which I shall probably never set foot in +again, and it is still more probable that we may never meet, I have +one promise to exact which you cannot refuse. It is presumable my +way in life will be in some degree successful, and that my son may +some day need such aid as I may be able to give him; he is yours +while you live, but promise me when your time comes you will tell +him who his father is. Because you have chosen a different way of +life from mine, do not be tempted to allow the boy to go to strangers +when you know he has a heart waiting to love and cherish him. I +have never done a dishonourable action in my life, so far as I can +judge, and, if only for his sake, I will always try and keep my +conscience free to make the same affirmation. A message to Mr. +Drummond, the banker, in Charing Cross, will always find me. Can +you refuse?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; it is only justice. Your claim comes after mine. I promise I +will not die without telling the boy who you are.” +</p> + +<p> +For herself she resolutely refused to take a shilling more than +was due for my lodging, but I succeeded in forcing her acceptance +of a matter of twenty pounds, the last of my own money, not Lady +Jane's, to be used for the boy. She stood beside me silent and +unmoved while I kissed him in his sleep, and when I parted from +her she said, “Good-bye, Captain Geraldine,” with a composure I +fain would have assumed myself, but it was impossible. +</p> + +<p> +The supper at Lady Jane's was gay enough, even the Vicomte +contributing his modicum of entertainment, no doubt stimulated +thereto by the thought of my near departure, and surely, when a +man may give pleasure by his goings as well as by his comings, he +is in a position to be envied. I sang Jacobite songs that evening +with an expression that would have carried conviction to the Duke +of Cumberland himself, and when I took my departure with the Vicomte +after midnight, I left a veritable hot-bed of sedition behind. +</p> + +<p> +My companion, though outwardly civil, took my little pleasantries +with so ill a grace that I was in a measure prepared for his words +at our parting before the coach-office. +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier, you are a man of many charming parts; I trust you will +long be spared to exercise them in quarters where they may fail to +give offence to any one.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Vicomte,” I replied, “Providence has bestowed on me only +my poor talents, but has not granted me the power to provide +appreciation in others. Still, if you should feel at any time that +I am answerable for your personal short-comings, do not, I pray, +let any false delicacy stand in your way. I should be complimented +in sustaining such an argument.” At which he only bowed in his +stateliest manner, and wishing me a safe journey, bent his steps +towards St. James's Street. +</p> + +<p> +I must confess such a quarrel would have been infinitely to my +taste, but unfortunately there would have been no satisfaction to +me, even had I pushed it to a successful issue. My way towards +Margaret was stopped by a much more serious obstacle than any man +who ever drew sword. Did the Vicomte but know this, possibly my +connection with Lady Jane might not have appeared to him so radical +a reason for keeping the peace between us. With these thoughts and +others germane to them I whiled away the time until the coach was +ready, and at the dead hour of two in the morning we rolled out of +London on our way to Huntingdon, where we arrived at eight the +following evening. +</p> + +<p> +I put up at the Bell, which was comfortable enough, and made shift +to employ my time through the long week before me in some manner +that would reasonably account for my stay in a dull country town +which offered no attractions to a man of fashion. +</p> + +<p> +At length my letters reached me, and my gorge rose at the address: +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + <i>Mr. Simpkin,</i><br/> + <i>Lying at the Bell Inn,</i><br/> + <i>Huntingdon.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Now it had never cost me a second thought to travel as a pedlar +when making my escape from Scotland, but this wishy-washy nonentity +of a name annoyed me beyond measure. Think you, did ever “Mr. +Simpkin” salute at Fontenoy, or make a leg at Marly? I doubt it. +Nor is it strange that a man, with no more vanity than myself, +should find some little vexation at the perversity of Lady Jane in +fastening this ridicule upon me. That it was intentional I could +not doubt from her letter, for she rallied me upon it at every turn +she could drag in. However, I had the consolation that I was to +join her forthwith at Harwich, and my journey across the country +over bad roads with a pair of wretched nags gave me more material +discomforts to rail at, and by these means I brought myself to a +frame of mind that I could at least imagine Lady Jane's enjoyment +of her childish jest. +</p> + +<p> +When I reached Newmarket, I found, to my disgust, it was impossible +to go forward again that night, but was on the road bright and +early the next morning; however, it was evening before I was set +down at a decent-looking inn beside an arm of the sea, across which +I saw the spires of Harwich twinkling a welcome to me in the setting +sun. +</p> + +<p> +Having settled with the post-boys, I desired the land-lord to attend +me within. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you have boats there, which is fortunate, for I wish to be +set across the water at once,” I said, on his entry. +</p> + +<p> +“That is impossible, your honour; it is too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense, my man. There is for a bottle of your best, and enough +to make up to you my not remaining overnight. I must set off at +once!” +</p> + +<p> +“But, your honour, it can't be done. No boat is allowed to cross +after sunset. The frigate lying there is for no other purpose than +to prevent it. 'Tis on account of the smuggling.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don't talk such rank nonsense to me, sir. Do I look like a smuggler?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, your honour, you do not, so far as I can judge.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then come, my man, I must be put across.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, sir, 'tis of no use; I should be a ruined man,” cried the +poor-spirited creature, almost snivelling. +</p> + +<p> +Seeing this, I tried him on a new tack. “You scoundrel!” said I, +laying my hand on my sword and advancing towards him threateningly, +“if you fail to have me on my way before half an hour is over, I'll +pink the soul out of you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh Lord, sir, have a care what you do!” he shrieked in terror, +and before I could intercept him he had thrown open the door into +the adjoining room, where three officers sat at their wine before +the fire. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Galway! Your honour! I am undone for upholding the law! +Save me! Save me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Damn you for a whining hound! What do you mean by rushing in like +this?” roared the officer addressed, who I marked wore a naval +uniform. +</p> + +<p> +During the babel of explanations which followed from the terrified +creature, I was by no means easy in my mind, for I could not but +think the frigate was stationed there for a purpose that touched +me more nearly than smuggling, and certainly King's officers were +not the company I should have chosen. But hesitation would have +been the height of folly. I advanced assuredly, and addressing the +company, said: +</p> + +<p> +“Gentlemen, your pardon, for I am afraid that I am really more to +blame than this poor man, who it appears was only preventing an +unintentional breach of the law on my part. The truth is, I am most +anxious to cross over to Harwich to-night, and had no thought to +meet with any obstacle in my design, least of all that I should be +taken for a smuggler.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a laugh at this, and he whom the inn-keeper had addressed +as Captain Galway said, roundly enough: +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God, sir, his Majesty's officers have still something above +the excise to look after!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, sir,” I replied, though his words confirmed me in my suspicion, +“I have but this moment paid for a bottle of our host's best; we +can discuss it with your leave, and it may serve as footing for my +interruption.” +</p> + +<p> +There were bows on all sides at this, and my gentleman introduced +himself as Captain Galway, commanding the <i>Triumphant</i>, now riding +at anchor in the bay, and his friends as Major Greenway and Captain +Hargreaves, of the 32d Regiment. In turn I introduced myself as +Mr. Johnstone, for I was determined to have done with Mr. Simpkin, +come what might. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah!” drawled Captain Hargreaves, “one of the Johnsons of Worcester?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered, shortly; “mine is the Border family, but I come +direct from London.” +</p> + +<p> +Much to my relief, our host now made his appearance with the wine, +and put an end to this uncomfortable questioning. His sample proved +excellent; so good that I doubted if even the smuggling story might +not have some foundation, and so exact was it to Captain Galway's +palate that before we had made an end of the second bottle he swore +by all his gods, whose seats appeared to be chiefly in those parts +which served for his most important corporate functions, that I +should be put across the water though he had to do it himself. +</p> + +<p> +So far everything seemed to run exactly to my liking; but when at +his invitation I took my place in the stern-sheets of his boat, it +was not without uneasiness I observed Captain Hargreaves draw him +aside and whisper to him earnestly, and on his taking his place I +saw his humour was altered. +</p> + +<p> +He ordered his men to give way in a voice that suggested the clap +of a prison door, and his first words to me were scarce reassuring: +</p> + +<p> +“You are from the Border, you say, Mr. Johnstone? Possibly from +the northern side?” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0048-large.jpg" name="picture-0048"> + <img src="images/picture-0048-small.jpg" + alt="He ordered his men to give way in a voice that suggested the clap of a prison door."/></a> + +<p> +“Yes,” I answered, seeing what was before me, and cursing the ill +luck that had drawn me into such a trap, but determined to put a +bold face on it. “Yes, I am from Kirksmuir, beyond Lanark.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you may know my midshipman here, Mr. Lockhart, of Carnwath?” +and he indicated a lad about eighteen beside me. +</p> + +<p> +My heart sank within me, for this very boy's elder brother had +unfortunately been drawn into this unhappy rebellion, and with him +I had been intimate. I had been a constant guest at his father's +house, and it was impossible to tell what this youngster might have +heard. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lockhart's family is honourably known, sir, throughout our +country, and I doubt not he can speak equally well of my own,” I +returned, in my best manner, and fortunately for me the lad was +either so bashful, or so busily employed in racking his brain to +puzzle out what family mine was, that he could make no reply, and +I went on, with my most careless air: +</p> + +<p> +“Surely, Captain Galway, it is unnecessary to keep so far down with +the tide as it sets. I would not take you out of your way for the +world.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, nonsense!” he cried, with a poor attempt at heartiness. “You +shall come on board. We too seldom meet with one of your quality +to part so easily. You must make your excuses to your friends. Say +you were kept a prisoner.” And he laughed loudly at his wit. +</p> + +<p> +Good heavens! how I despised the man who could make a jest of a +fellow-creature in such a strait! Had I been a swimmer, I would +have taken the chance of a plunge over the side; but in my case +that would have been little short of suicide. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, sir, come! You make a poor return for my offer of hospitality,” +he continued, banteringly; “you are not at all the same man I took +you for at the inn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me,” I returned, quickly, for his last remark spurred me +to my utmost effort, “you gentlemen who go down to the sea in ships +forget that we landsmen find even the wobble of a boat discommoding. +No man is the same with an uneasy stomach.” +</p> + +<p> +“Next thing to an uneasy conscience—eh, Mr. Johnstone?” +</p> + +<p> +“Worse, sir, far worse. You may forget the one at times, but the +other is never at rest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, well, we are for a time now, at all events!” he cried, with +a ring of triumph in his voice, as we slowed up alongside the great +ship, and the sailors made us fast by the ladder. +</p> + +<p> +“After you, sir,” said my tormentor, as he pointed upward, and, +willy-nilly, I mounted the shaking steps with the horrid thought +that perhaps it was the last ladder I should mount save one that +would lead to a platform whence I would make my last bow to a +howling mob at Tyburn. +</p> + +<p> +“It is fast growing dark, sir; we will not stand on ceremony,” said +the captain, leading to the cabin. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not, I pray,” I answered, with some firmness, for now I was +only anxious for the last act of the ghastly farce to end; the +suspense was growing intolerable. +</p> + +<p> +When wine and glasses were placed before us, the captain filled +them both and raised his. +</p> + +<p> +“'Pon my soul, Mr. Johnstone, I am sorry to lose so good a companion, +but we must not put your landsman's endurance to too hard a proof. +I wish you a safe arrival with all my heart! My men will put you +ashore at once.” +</p> + +<p> +I was so fluttered by the unexpected turn and the honest heartiness +he threw into his words that I could scarce reply, but in some way +I made my acknowledgments. In a few moments I was over the side +and speeding towards the Harwich shore with all the force of six +oars pulled by six impatient men, and I'll wager none among them +was so impatient as the passenger they carried. +</p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h2> + +<p> +HOW I COME TO TAKE A GREAT RESOLVE +</p> + +<p> +I rewarded the men handsomely enough to call forth their approval, +and made my compliments so fully to Mr. Lockhart, with so many +messages to his family, that I left him more puzzled than ever as +to who Mr. Johnstone of Kirksmuir might be; and then picking up my +portmanteau, made as though I would enter the town. +</p> + +<p> +Once the boat was safely out of sight, I looked about for a quiet +spot, and proceeded to effect a transformation in my outward +appearance more in keeping with my new rôle of courier. Removing +my wig, I smoothed my hair back, and fastened it with a plain +riband. I undid my sword, and snapping the blade, put the hilt, +which was handsomely mounted in silver, to one side, and then +stripping the lace and silver braid off my hat, I bound wig and +blade together and flung them into the sea. From my portmanteau +I took a pair of stout black hose which I drew over the more modish +ones I wore, removed the buckles from my shoes, and placing them +with the sword-hilt in the portmanteau, muffled myself carefully +in my cloak, and, taking up my burden, trudged towards the town. +</p> + +<p> +I found the inn where Lady Jane and Margaret lodged without +difficulty, and on my inquiry for them the land-lord said: +</p> + +<p> +“If you are the servant my lady has been expecting, let me tell +you you have been within an ace of losing your place, for you are +a day late, and but for the wind she would have sailed this morning. +You are to go to your room at once, and then you wait on her, and +I, for one, don't envy you your reception! Take your things and +come this way.” +</p> + +<p> +The thought of being so near friends banished any petty annoyance +I might have felt at this treatment; indeed I could but so admire +Lady Jane's cleverness that I entered into the jest, and inquired +what manner of person my new mistress might be. +</p> + +<p> +“Masterful, masterful. 'Tis a God's mercy she was not born a man, +or it might have been ill holding with her!” the honest creature +returned, with much decision, and I at once placed him as a man of +fair judgment. +</p> + +<p> +In my room I found the suit of bottle-green livery Lady Jane had +promised laid out for me, so I soon made my transformation complete, +and presented myself at the door my guide had pointed out. +</p> + +<p> +My cousin's voice, in answer to my discreet signal on the panel, +bade me enter, and my welcome was a merry one. How I made them +laugh over my appearance! With what satisfaction did I turn the +tables on Lady Jane by the landlord's estimate of her character, +when she attempted to resume her quizzing over “Mr. Simpkin”! But +it was when I came to the relation of my adventure with Captain +Galway that I met a veritable triumph. To Lady Jane it afforded a +new mark for her wit, and she professed to be vastly amused at my +groundless alarm; but to Margaret, who was much distressed by Lady +Jane's levity, 'twas all tragedy of the most serious description. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0052-large.jpg" name="picture-0052"> + <img src="images/picture-0052-small.jpg" + alt="How I made them laugh over my appearance!"/></a> + +<p> +The measures taken for her brother's safety had proved entirely +effectual, and it was clear that Margaret credited me solely with +his release, which was now assured, though I honestly believe the +Duke's signature would have been only so much worthless paper had +I not suggested the Vicomte's services. Be this as it may, I did +not hold I was bound to combat with her sense of gratitude, for +Heaven knows I have so often suffered under an over-sufficiency of +undeserved censure that a little overflowing of approbation was +most welcome. +</p> + +<p> +We hoped to be off early the next morning, but, alas, on our +awakening the wind was as unfavourable as before, and there were +no signs of a change. It was an anxious day for all of us. It was +clear enough the Duke of Newcastle had suspected me, and though it +was possible he did not realise my importance, it was quite probable +he would have Lady Jane's following closely watched for the presence +of Captain “Fitzgerald,” as he chose to style me. The proximity of +the <i>Triumphant</i> and her over-hospitable commander, with his prying +friend Mr. Hargreaves, was never out of my mind, and it was with +no small uneasiness I learned the Governor of the town had been +unceasing in his attentions to the two ladies. True, this may have +meant nothing but pure civility, but the purest civility may prove +as embarrassing as the commonest intrusion when one has anything +to conceal. Confound the man! He pressed his ill-timed courtesies +upon us twenty times a day, and I could not but grow apprehensive +when I marked the scarce-concealed curiosity with which he regarded +me. Had I been a slave in a barracoon, my points could not have +been gone over more carefully; and had I been both deaf and dumb, +my qualities could not have been discussed with more openness. +Never before had I realised that even a lackey might resent hearing +himself discussed like an animal at a fair, and Lady Jane took a +perverse delight in provoking the Governor's critiques when I was +within earshot. Our morning walk in his garden will serve as an +ensample. +</p> + +<p> +“Has your fellow any experience of travel,” the Governor would ask, +stopping in his walk and eyeing me as if he were at a court-martial, +“or is he as useless as the rest of his kind?” +</p> + +<p> +“I've no doubt hell prove stupid enough when we get where we really +need him,” she would answer, coolly, bending over some favourite +flower. “'Tis really shameful the lying recommendation one's friends +give servants nowadays.” +</p> + +<p> +“He looks stupid enough to prove honest,” growled the Governor, +“but if he were put through a few weeks' drill, with my sergeant's +cane behind those fat calves of his, 'twould smarten him up a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +“What lovely Gueldre roses!” exclaimed Margaret, enthusiastically, +and straightway fell to praising one flower after another with such +rapidity and success that even Lady Jane's ingenuity could find no +opportunity to lead the Governor back to the torture again. +</p> + +<p> +However, I had my revenge, for Lady Jane herself was unpleasantly +startled that same day as we sate at dinner in our room, and the +Governor chose to pay us another visit without warning. +</p> + +<p> +There was a frantic scurry for a few moments as we removed all +traces of my place, and his Excellency must have had a suspicious +train of thought running through his head as he waited for me to +unlock the door. This I did with unmoved countenance, and Lady Jane +made the excuse of being somewhat en déshabillé, as the room was +over-warm with the fire, and it passed without further remark, +though I could see he eyed me from time to time as I stood behind +her chair. I waited on them, I flatter myself, quite as perfectly +as the most highly trained servant—for the table is a point to +which I have always devoted much attention, and my knowledge stood +me in good stead now. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever his suspicions were, he did not dare to make them known; +Lady Jane was a person of too recognised a position not to make it +highly inconvenient for any one who might interfere with her without +due justification; and the next day we sailed without hinderance. +</p> + +<p> +Upon our arrival at the Hague, the first letter we received was +one from the Vicomte to Margaret, assuring her of her brother's +safety, and informing her it was commonly reported in London that +Prince Charles had escaped to the continent in the train of Lady +Jane Drummond, so we knew to a certainty the Governor had mistaken +me for the Prince, and informed the Court of his suspicions. +</p> + +<p> +Whether the mistake was flattering to me or not, I cannot fairly +judge. So far as the Prince stood morally or intellectually, he +was beneath my contempt, but physically, my impression is that he +was handsome—at least he had a fine carriage and bearing. It is +most difficult to judge any man in his position; all my training +and education, and that of my ancestors for generations before me, +had been such that I have scarce been able to look on a king save +with a feeling close akin to reverence. So with these reservations +I allow the dubious compliment to pass. But whatever I might think, +there was no doubt but the circumstance had raised me many degrees +in Margaret's estimation. And this also I owed to the unwitting +services of the Vicomte, who had successively helped me on to nearly +every advance in her affections. +</p> + +<p> +From the Hague we journeyed by easy stages to Paris, where Lady +Jane found suitable lodgings for herself and Margaret in the rue +Dauphine, while I found a humble one, better fitted to my purse, +in the rue du Petit-Bourbon. +</p> + +<p> +I at once made application to join my old regiment, but to my +chagrin I was only put off from month to month, and, insisting on +an answer, I was curtly informed there was no captaincy vacant, +and I must remain satisfied with the small pension the king was +pleased to give me as officer in the Scottish expedition, or accept +a subaltern's position. +</p> + +<p> +When the Vicomte arrived, by the end of May, he resumed his position +in the Royal Guard, and his evening visits to Lady Jane, or rather +to Margaret. About the middle of the summer he succeeded in obtaining +an authentic copy of the Act of Indemnity, which was studied with +the greatest interest by us all. The terms were fair, even generous, +but I was not astonished to find my name among those excluded from +its favour. It mattered little to me that I was henceforward a +marked man, with a price on my head, doomed to perpetual banishment; +for, being in no sense an Englishman, and a Scot only by descent, +exclusion from the Three Kingdoms meant little to me; blood and +training had made me an alien in feeling, and fate had ever thrown +me and mine on the side of the unfortunate; Maxwells and Geraldines, +we had always been on the losing side; it had become second nature. +But with Margaret it was far different. Her generous soul was in +arms at once; my exclusion from the Act had raised me to the niche +of a hero in her temple, and again it was the Vicomte who had +contributed to this elevation. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret now began to grow anxious again concerning her brother. +Why did he not join us? Could any new complication have arisen to +cause his re-arrest? These and a thousand other disturbing +speculations troubled her unceasingly, until they were put beyond +all doubt by a letter, which fell upon us like a bomb: +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “<i>January</i> 19, 1748. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “My dearest Peggy,—I have resolved on a step which I can scarce + expect you to approve, perhaps not even to understand at present, + though I have every hope that some day you will do both. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “My situation briefly is this: I have no hope whatever of another + effectual attempt on the part of the Prince, and I have set my + face against foreign service. Still, I was bred to the sword, + and so must bide by it. As I have neither the means nor the + inclination for an idle existence, and it has pleased the King + to grant me my pardon without exacting any terms, I am resolved + to offer him my sword and duty without reserve. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Let no one persuade you into thinking that I am playing a part, + or have been won over by new friends or promises. I have won + myself over from empty plots and idle dreams to an honourable + career, and I have put the past from me without a regret, save + that my decision will cause you pain, my dear and only sister. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Whether you write me in anger or write not at all, you cannot + in any way lessen the affection in which I will always cherish + you. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Your loving brother, +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Archd. Nairn.” +</p> + +<p> +“A most sensible determination,” I thought, “and does much credit +both to his sense of honour and his judgment,” but I need hardly +say I took care not to air my appreciations of his course before +Lady Jane, and still less before Mistress Margaret, who was little +short of distracted. +</p> + +<p> +The poor girl had swooned on receiving the news, and for two days +was utterly overwhelmed by what she held to be the disgrace of his +desertion. +</p> + +<p> +The Vicomte was singularly unfortunate in his attempt at consolation. +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, mon amie,” he said one evening, before us all, “your +brother should lose no claim to your esteem. Remember, the cause +of the Prince Charles is lost beyond all redemption. Your brother +is under the greatest of all obligations to his legal King; he owes +him his life. If my humble opinion be of value, I conceive he has +acted strictly within the laws which govern the conscience of a +gentleman and a man of honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gaston! How dare you? I am not a child; I am a woman loyal to my +heart's core! I know nothing of your fine distinctions which +constitute 'a gentleman and a man of honour,' But I do know the +feeling which made men charge almost single-handed on the English +line at Culloden. I know, too, the feeling which made the humblest +Highland mother give up the child of her heart, and wish she had +twenty more, to die for her King and her Prince. Better—far, far +better that my brother had died unpardoned but loyal! He died for +me the day his hand signed that traitorous compact. God pity me! +I have neither father, mother, nor brother left. I have naught but +you,” she cried, as she buried her face on Lady Jane's shoulder, +and shook with the storm of grief that swept over her. Lady Jane +motioned us to leave, and we withdrew sorrowfully enough. +</p> + +<p> +It was weeks before the poor girl recovered her old liveliness; +but she could not combat against the natural elasticity of youth, +though the struggle left its trace in a sudden maturity quite +unlooked for. Her relation towards the Vicomte became visibly +colder; and he, simple soul, instead of being spurred to greater +effort, went blundering on in his direct childlike way, with but +small effect, though warmly reinforced by Lady Jane. +</p> + +<p> +All this time His Royal Highness Prince Charles was making no slight +stir in Paris. He was in deep disgrace with the King, whom he +treated with the most studied discourtesy. An unwelcome and dangerous +intruder, he paid not the slightest attention to the repeated +requests that he should leave the capital; he kept open house in +his hotel on the Quai des Théatins, and appeared nightly at the +Opera despite every consideration of good taste and breeding. And +yet one-half Paris looked on and applauded, blaming the King for +his inhospitality to this hero of a hundred flights. +</p> + +<p> +I did my own prospects of advancement no small harm by allowing +myself to accompany Margaret and Lady Jane to one of his levees, +where he bestowed much fulsome flattery on me, though he took good +care it should reflect on himself, for he never could pass over an +occasion to shine before a woman—one of the weakest vanities that +ever inflated the soul of man. +</p> + +<p> +The Vicomte was much chagrined over our going, and inclined to lay +the blame upon me. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Kirkconnel,” said he, addressing Margaret, “should know that +such a proceeding is extremely injudicious when the Prince stands +in such ambiguous relations towards the Court; especially when +aware of my position towards you and my official duty in the present +difficult negotiations with the Prince.” +</p> + +<p> +“'M. de Kirkconnel,' as you style him,” retorted Margaret, with +great spirit, “has only done his duty, M. le Vicomte, as 'a +gentleman and a man of honour,' in accompanying two ladies to pay +their respects to the son of their King—whatever may be his +relations towards a time-serving government.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tut, tut, Margaret!” broke in Lady Jane, “none of your hoity-toity +airs? Gaston is perfectly right. I blame myself for not having +thought of his position in the matter. We'll keep ourselves outside +these delicate questions, for which women have too hot heads, until +wiser ones settle them, one way or another.” +</p> + +<p> +That Lady Jane was much displeased was evidenced by the strenuous +efforts to procure me a captaincy which she put on foot again with +renewed vigour, and, to tell the truth, I was not sorry, for I was +beginning to find no little embarrassment in Margaret's unconscious +revelation of her feelings towards me, and I was heartily sorry +for the Vicomte as well. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing came of Lady Jane's efforts, and now we all began to live +a life of much discomfort. That the Vicomte disliked me was patent, +and yet he would make no effective efforts to better his own position +with Margaret; that Lady Jane was troubled at my presence was writ +large on her expressive countenance, and yet she could not bear me +to leave unless fittingly provided; and that Margaret, our Pearl +of Great Price, was as cold to the Vicomte as she was affectionate +to me I could not greatly, and all this to our common disquiet. +The Vicomte sighed for possession, Lady Jane for the fulfilment of +her plans, and I for the end of a situation that had become wellnigh +impossible. +</p> + +<p> +At length the explosion came. +</p> + +<p> +It was an open secret that the Prince would be removed by force, +as he had obstinately refused to listen to either proposals, +entreaties, or commands, and in short was courting disgrace, for +Heaven only knows what, unless perchance he hoped to rise only by +his failures and reverses. At all events, preparations were made +without concealment for his arrest on the evening of the 10th of +December, as he drove to the Opera, and the Vicomte, from his +position in the Household Troops, had charge of the arrangements. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret had heard the rumour that very day, and had sent the +Vicomte peremptory word to come to the rue Dauphine; but no doubt +it was his duties, certainly not any hesitation at facing the +interview, which prevented his complying with her command. +</p> + +<p> +The next day, when he presented himself, the news of the arrest +was all over Paris, with every absurd exaggeration of detail. +</p> + +<p> +He entered admirably composed, though knowing a painful scene was +before him, and after saluting Lady Jane, he advanced towards +Margaret, holding out his hand. +</p> + +<p> +She stood erect, her face white with emotion. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0060-large.jpg" name="picture-0060"> + <img src="images/picture-0060-small.jpg" + alt="She stood erect, her face white with emotion."/></a> + +<p> +“One moment, M. le Vicomte, until I see whether I can touch that +hand again or not. Is it true that it was laid on my Prince?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, mademoiselle, it was not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who, then, arrested him?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Vaudreuil, mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you? What did you do?” +</p> + +<p> +“I stood there, mademoiselle, and saw that M. de Vaudreuil carried +out his instructions.” +</p> + +<p> +“His instructions? Who gave them +</p> + +<p> +“I did, mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! To arrest the Prince?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, mademoiselle.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you think this was the part of 'a gentleman and a man of +honour?'” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, mademoiselle. It was my duty.” +</p> + +<p> +I own that from the bottom of my heart I admired him. It was clear +what was coming, yet he never faltered, never wavered, nor made +any attempt at appeal or explanation. It was like the man. I envied +him his courage. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you never think for one moment of me? Of my devotion to him +and his cause? Did not my regard, my affection even, weigh for one +moment with you?” she went on, excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, Marguerite! This is cruel! This is unjust! I worship +you as I have never worshipped woman, and at this moment you are +breaking my heart!” +</p> + +<p> +“You have broken mine,” she answered, coldly, and turning, walked +slowly out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +He stood with his face like marble. +</p> + +<p> +Then Lady Jane rose, and laying her hand on his shoulder, said: +“Gaston, I never thought more of you in my life, and the mother +who bore you may well be proud of such a son. Margaret is but a +child; when she thinks over what has happened, she will see matters +in their true light. Girls' hearts do not break so easily. My own +would have flown in pieces a thousand times if it had followed my +imaginations,” she said, gayly; and then more tenderly, “Be patient +with her, Gaston; she is only a child.” +</p> + +<p> +But he shook his head sadly without reply. +</p> + +<p> +“My dear Vicomte,” I said, “I know you have cause to look on me +with no friendly eye; but believe me, I can echo every word my +cousin has spoken. I can only admire and hope for such courage +myself; and that I may prove the sincerity of my profession, I will +withdraw entirely from a scene where I am only a disturbance. I +have no thought, no hope of winning Margaret for myself. I will +volunteer for service in Canada at once, and at least shall not +have the regret of standing in the way of one I honour so highly.” +</p> + +<p> +To all of which he said little, but that little so direct and +feeling that we stepped out into the rue Dauphine together, more +nearly friends than we had ever been. +</p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h2> + +<p> +HOW I MAKE BOTH FRIENDS AND ENEMIES IN NEW FRANCE +</p> + +<p> +My resolution was immediate, but it was a different matter carrying +it into effect. After many applications, and even entreaties, the +most favourable opening I could obtain was the offer of an ensign's +commission. It was almost beyond even my self-abnegation to accept +such degradation. Only by the thought of Margaret, and the consoling +comfort that I was making the sacrifice entirely for her sake, +joined with the absolute promise of the minister that I should not +long remain in such a subordinate position, could I bring myself +to the point of acceptance. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the Vicomte had not in any degree taken a proper advantage +of my disinterestedness; for, instead of winning back the affections +of his adored one by direct and oft-repeated attack, he withdrew +himself entirely from her company, and plunged into a course of +the most reckless dissipation, making Paris ring with the tales of +his extravagance and folly. Then suddenly, to every one's +astonishment, he threw up his commission, and disappeared so +effectually, that not even his intimates knew what had come to him. +Those at the rue Dauphine were as ignorant as the rest of the world, +and though his withdrawal was unquestionably a relief to Margaret, +it was a source of deep mortification and sorrow to Lady Jane. +However, neither letters nor inquiries were of any avail, and the +most rigorous search only elicited the fact that no one knew what +had become of the Vicomte Gaston de Trincardel, beyond that he had +voluntarily disappeared without any adequate motive being assigned. +</p> + +<p> +At length the time came for me to embark for my miserable command. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret made but little effort to conceal her grief. “It is +dreadful, dreadful, this parting!” she cried. “One after another +I am losing those to whom I am most attached—first my brother, +then Gaston, and now you. I am, indeed, 'a stranger in a strange +land,' and if aught happens to Lady Jane, think what will become +of me? But I am not thinking of myself alone,” she added, quickly. +“Believe me, my greatest sorrow is that you, who have sacrificed +so much for your loyalty, who have met with such reverses, such +pitiful ill return for all your devotion to your King, are now +doomed to an exile worse than before—to the acceptance of a rank +that is an insult to your condition, to banishment in a savage +country far from all those you love—and you accept it all without +a murmur. Now I know, for you have taught me, the definition of 'a +gentleman and a man of honour.'” +</p> + +<p> +With this recognition, so worthy of her generous nature, she looked +at me so proudly that I would have given anything to kneel at her +feet and confess it was only the fact of being “a gentleman and a +man of honour” which prevented me answering the love that glowed +from every feature of her sweet face and throbbed in every pulse +of her ardent young body with the burning words that trembled on +my sealed lips. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Margaret, sweet Margaret! I cannot say what I would. I dare +hardly think what I would. Everything is against me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not everything,” she answered, quickly—“not everything, unless +I am nothing! I am with you heart and soul! No, you cannot speak, +because you have no position, and perhaps no future. But I can! +Oh, Hugh, Hugh! I care nothing about it being unmaidenly; I cannot +mind such matters when my heart is breaking. I love you with all +my soul and with all my life. I will think of you every hour you +are away from me, and pray for you every hour until God brings you +back. Oh, Hugh, tell me-tell me you love me!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, miss! Master Hughie shall do nothing of the sort!” interrupted +Lady Jane, who had come in unmarked. “Any man who wishes to do +any love-making, so far as Margaret Nairn is concerned, must first +do so through me. +</p> + +<p> +“There, there! Peggy, my pet—my wee girlie. You may kiss him once +for your poor heart's comfort; and then, my lambie, leave my boy +to me; I am the only mother he has. There, dearie, go now,” she +said, tenderly, when I had kissed her as one might kiss a saint; +and without a word Margaret left the room with my cousin, and it +and my heart were empty. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Jane was generous, as was her wont: all that money could do +to make my departure easy was done; and most of all, she comforted +me as a mother might comfort a son—indeed, as she had said to +Margaret, she was the only mother I had ever known. +</p> + +<p> +Again she told me plainly that I must not cherish any hopes upon +her death beyond such humble provision as she might spare. “Margaret +is my daughter, Hughie; and if you are the man I take you for, you +would not deprive her of whatever money may bring.” +</p> + +<p> +“Cousin,” said I, “I am going away for her sake, for her peace of +mind alone; and if I am content to bury myself alive for this now, +think you I'll regret any other good that can come to her? I love +her with my whole heart and soul, and the greatest bitterness I +have to bear is that I am prevented from declaring my feelings +towards her before I go. She has spoken words to me that call for +all the response in a man's soul, and I go away with my mouth closed +like a clown.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tut, tut, Hughie! Now you are letting your vanity get the upperhand +of you. You are bemoaning yourself because you have not cut a better +figure in her eyes. But just one word for your cold comfort. There +never was a young girl in her position yet—bless all their lovely, +trusting hearts—who would not make a hero of the man she loved, +had he the garb of a Merry Andrew and the manners of a Calmuck. +Don't fash yourself over imaginary woes when you've real ones in +sight, plain enough, my poor boy. But now leave this profitless +heart-break and let us plan for the future.” +</p> + +<p> +Our talk lasted late into the night, and by daybreak I was on my +way to La Rochelle. +</p> + +<p> +And now began the most miserable period of my life, the details of +which I have no intention of inflicting on my reader. A wretched +sea-voyage was a fitting introduction to my place of +banishment—Louisbourg, a pretentious and costly fortification, +but miserably situate and falling to decay for want of the most +necessary repair. There it was, shut in on the one hand by the +monotonous sea, wild and threatening with its ice, and snow, and +storm in winter, sad and depressing with its mournful fog in +summer—and on the other by an unbroken wilderness of rock and +firs—that I ate out my heart in bitterness year after year; my +only alleviation being the rare letters which I received from +Margaret, but which I scarce could answer, though my reticence only +brought forth a fuller expression of the unwavering affection of +her generous soul. +</p> + +<p> +Dear as this indulgence in a cherished affection was to me, I +brought myself to renounce it, for I held I was bound to this for +more than one reason. Now that I had entirely broken with my past, +I recognised that perhaps I should have done so sooner. Was it not +folly to suppose that a girl such as Margaret would not follow her +generous fancy when propinquity was added to inclination? Alas! +that such admirable decisions are only so readily consented to when +the occasion for delinquency is no longer possible! +</p> + +<p> +Then, too, my position towards Lady Jane was a delicate one. She +had clearly indicated to me her intentions as to the disposal of +her fortune. A hopeful or even a contented correspondence was +impossible to one in my situation, and to enter into any truthful +detail of the misery of my surroundings might well appear, even in +her kindly judgment, but an implied appeal to her generosity. +</p> + +<p> +For this it was that I gradually cut down my letters year by year, +until I entirely ceased from all intercourse, and lived my lonely +life as best I might. +</p> + +<p> +For fellow-exiles, I had near an hundred discontented gentlemen, +ruling over a homesick soldiery, two or three unfortunate gentlewomen, +a few greedy and dishonest officials, and a handful of wretched +townspeople, whose prosperity was never fostered in time of peace +nor their safety considered in time of war. +</p> + +<p> +At last, through the friendship of the Comte de Raimond, Governor +of the Island, I obtained a tardy promotion to the rank of lieutenant +in the Regiment of Artois, under M. de St. Julhien, and the +appointment as King's Interpreter, on which I was heartily +congratulated by my comrades, who had long pitied my undeserved +ill fortune. +</p> + +<p> +Until then I had made but little effort to better my condition, +but my advancement, as well as the increase in my pay, aroused me. +I took fresh heart in and my appearance, and began to mix somewhat +in such society as our forlorn situation afforded. +</p> + +<p> +In Madame de Drucour, wife of our Commandant, I found a grande dame +de par le monde, who commanded the admiration and respect of all +our officers and the devotion of the soldiery and townspeople. +</p> + +<p> +In Madame Prévost, the most charming little Canadian, wife of the +Commissary—a creature with the carriage of a lackey and the soul +of a dry-salter—I discovered a heart full of tender sympathy, +dying of ennui. Her husband's unpopularity was such that but few +of the officers would enter his doors, and indeed he was so fierce +a Cerberus in regard to his unfortunate wife, that he made any +attempt at alleviation of her unhappy condition wellnigh impossible. +However, through my acquaintance with a M. de Sarennes, a Canadian +partisan officer, who stood high in his favour, he saw fit to allow +my visits, and I willingly put up with his want of breeding to +offer such attention as I might to his prisoner, for so in truth +she was. +</p> + +<p> +Sarennes was attractive enough, in so far as his outward appearance +went, but, like most of his countrymen—that is, the Canadians—was +wanting in all those externals which are essential to a gentleman. +He was courageous, but a braggart; he was well born, but had no +breeding; he was open and friendly, but, I feared, truculent; and +his sense of honour was not above the universal dishonesty which +disgraced and wrecked his unfortunate country. +</p> + +<p> +I had suspected his intimacy with Prévost had some less honourable +foundation than a pitying admiration for his unfortunate wife, and +I was confirmed in this by his proposal in my quarters one evening +that I should hand over to him some blanks, signed by St. Julhien, +on the Commissary, for stores, etc., which I was to requisition as +required. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask to what use you intend to put them?” I said, more to +sound him than for information, for this was one of the most favoured +forms of peculation in the colonies. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, none that you will ever know of, Chevalier; and I should think +an addition to your inadequate pay would not come amiss,” he added, +artfully, without even an effort to veil his knavery. +</p> + +<p> +The whole disgraceful, pettifogging scheme disgusted me; but, +because he was a much younger man than I, and I believed might be +in Prévost's power, I refrained from my natural indignation, and +passing over the personal affront, I spake to him with all the +consideration of a friend. I shewed him the path which he was +treading, and pointed out the inevitable disgrace which must attend +such a course, and most of all, the wretched meanness of so +contemptible a crime. But, to my astonishment, he was inclined to +excuse and cloak his wrong-doing. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” said I, “nothing is further from my liking than an artificial +morality, but I would avoid even the appearance of being cheaply +vicious. Do not weigh out the largest possible measure of dishonesty +to the smallest possible quantum of correction. If you must depart +from that path of virtue towards which we should all direct our +best endeavours, do so in a manner that will at least command the +admiration of gentlemen and the leniency of a Divine Being, who +may consider the frailty of the natural man, but never the tortuous +conclusions of his compromising intellect.” +</p> + +<p> +He was apparently sensible of my kindly advice, but I soon discovered +that he not only disregarded it, but was endeavouring to do me an +ill turn with the Commissary by directing his warped and jealous +suspicions towards my innocent attentions to his wife. +</p> + +<p> +The word “innocent” I use advisedly, and lest the reader have any +doubt now or hereafter as to my intention touching the fair Madame +Provost, let me assure him I can lay my hand on my heart and aver +I never at any time held any warmer feeling towards her than the +sympathy of an exile towards a prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +That her stupidly jealous husband, fired by the insinuations of +Sarennes, should distort mere civilities into serious intentions, +and bear himself with such a ridiculous assumption of jaundiced +suspicion that a cause for his uneasiness was readily invented by +a scandal-loving garrison, was no doing of mine. Madame Prévost, +with all her charm, had neither experience nor knowledge in such +affairs; she was simply a woman profoundly unhappy and profoundly +ignorant of the world. Could I have honestly offered her my affections +as well as my sympathies, I might have done so, and had them as +honestly returned; but no woman had ever awakened a throb in my +heart since I bade farewell to one in the rue Dauphine in Paris. +She still remained at once my hope and my despair; and, so long as +she lived, other women were as dead to me. I lay claim to no great +fortitude, to no heroic self-denial—it is seldom a man has attained +the results of virtue with as little conscious effort as I was +called upon to exercise. +</p> + +<p> +But the mere knowledge of the integrity of my motives was not +sufficient to protect them from the idle gossip of the town, and +this inconvenience led to an abrupt termination of our intercourse +in the following manner: +</p> + +<p> +One afternoon, when amusing myself and Mme. Prévost by singing +snatches of old songs, I had ended a favourite of hers with a +telling accompaniment and the effective words, +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“J'ai perdu mon coeur volage,</span> + <span class="i0">Mon honneur, mon avantage,</span> + <span class="i0">De moi ne me parle plus,”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +when I was surprised by a burst of pretended applause, and turned +to find M. Prévost facing me with a malicious air. +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, M. le Lieutenant, you have my sincerest sympathy,” he +cried, with mock emphasis. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0070-large.jpg" name="picture-0070"> + <img src="images/picture-0070-small.jpg" + alt="M. le Lieutenant, you have my sincerest sympathy!"/></a> + +<p> +“Upon what, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“Upon the loss of that inestimable jewel, your honour.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, monsieur; that is merely the license of the verse—a +dangerous thing to translate into plain prose.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not seize the distinction, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are probably not qualified to judge of either one or the other, +M. Prévost.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly not, M. le Lieutenant, but I am qualified to judge of +the persons I will admit within my doors; and, 'in plain prose,' +I would wish you to understand you are no longer one of them.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. le Commissaire, your meaning is as plain as is your manner; +nothing could be more unqualified, and I regret my inability to +answer it in the same fashion,” I returned, not without a certain +appreciation of his handling of the situation. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” I said to his lady, who had preserved an admirable +composure throughout this passage at arms, “I owe you a thousand +thanks for your kindness, and a thousand regrets should I be the +cause of any misunderstanding between you and your husband;” whereupon +I raised her hand, and kissing it ceremoniously, I effected a not +undignified retreat. +</p> + +<p> +So the summer of '57 dragged on, when one warm afternoon in +September—it was the 25th of the month—I wandered down to the +landing-place to see the arrival of a ship from France that had +slipped through the feeble blockade attempted by the English. I +lazily watched the captain and others disembark with an uninterested +eye until among them I caught sight of a lad of about fifteen years, +whose dress and countenance were certainly English. As he came up +with the others I advanced, and laying my hand on his shoulder, +said, +</p> + +<p> +“You are not French, my lad?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no, sir,” he answered, looking full at me with an open, engaging +smile; “I am English.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought so. What is your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Christopher Routh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good God! Kit! I am Captain Geraldine!” +</p> + + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h2> + +<p> +“JOY AND SORROW ARE NEXT-DOOR NEIGHBOURS” +</p> + +<p> +As I had not been in the habit of asking favours of my superiors, +permission was readily given that the English lad should be allowed +to share my quarters with me. +</p> + +<p> +I set my servant to work arranging for his comfort, and we sate in +my little garden, I dying with curiosity to hear what lucky chance +had blown him hither. +</p> + +<p> +“Where is your mother, Kit?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +At this his eyes filled and his lips trembled, and for some moments +he could not reply, during which I was unable to suppress a selfish +hope that perchance my time of probation had ended. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother is lost,” he answered, at last. “But let me start fair.” +I was pleased to mark the boy spake with an easy address, for I +hate the taint of servility above all things. “Ever since I had +grown up I have been begging her to let me get to sea, and at length +she yielded, in part to my entreaties, and in part to the wishes +of some members of The Society who had settled in Boston, in the +Province of Massachusetts, and agreed to come out to them. For me, +anything answered that would give me my wish, and I did not see +that it mattered whether she was among Methodists in England, or +among Methodists in America.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are right, my lad; I imagine they would make the world much +of a likeness wherever they might be.” +</p> + +<p> +He answered nothing to my observation, but went on: +</p> + +<p> +“At length all our preparations were complete, and we left in June +last in a wretched old craft, called the <i>African Chief</i>, so ill +found that she was dismasted and disabled in the first gale we met +with. +</p> + +<p> +“We were captured, or rather rescued, three days later by this very +ship I have just come in, and the hulk was rerigged and sent back +to France a prize, with her unfortunate crew and passengers as +prisoners. From this fate my mother and I were preserved through +the kindness of a French lady, who took compassion on mother as +the only woman on board, and offered to take her as her waiting-woman, +and I was allowed to accompany her. Anything was better than the +certainty of a prison in France.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was the lady's name, Kit? I may know her.” +</p> + +<p> +“'Pon my word, sir, I am ashamed to say I don't know myself. There +were no others of her condition on board, and she was addressed by +every one simply as 'Madame.' and I never thought of asking my +mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind; go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“We were treated with every kindness, and Madame showed every +conceivable consideration for my poor mother, while I made friends +with all on board, and soon learned enough French to find my way +about ship. Madame and my poor mother found the length of the +voyage tedious to a degree, but I loved every hour of it. We +unfortunately ran short of water, as our casks had so strained +during a heavy gale we encountered they lost all or most of their +contents. Besides this mischief, the gale drove us so far out of +our course to the north, that our captain determined to run into +the Baie des Chaleurs for a fresh supply of water. +</p> + +<p> +“This we did, and there found it in abundance; and after the boats +had begun to pass backward and forward, and we were convinced there +was no danger, Madame and mother were allowed to have their wish +and leave the ship for a ramble on shore. At first they stayed +within sight, but gradually gaining courage, they strayed away +unnoticed by any of us for some time. When they were missed, an +instant search was made, and we started through the woods hallooing +and firing our pieces, but without result; at length some of the +sailors, who had been in those parts before, discovered a place +where they said Indians had lately camped. We soon found further +traces that confirmed this, and at last a small gray tippet which +I knew to be mother's, and we were no longer in doubt. +</p> + +<p> +“I was wild to keep at the search, but the others persuaded me it +was useless to do so, that these savages wandered over the whole +country, and would certainly carry their prisoners to some post +where they would claim a reward, especially if they thought they +were English, which might well be the case; and in any event there +was no danger of their lives, as these savages never illtreat white +women, except in attack. Anxious as I was, I could not but agree +that they were right, and so said no more; but now I am content to +remain here, as I have a better chance of hearing news than if +exchanged for some French prisoner, as we were hoping all the way +out.” +</p> + +<p> +Although I had not the same confidence as the boy, I encouraged +him in his hopefulness, and in turn told him of my own doings since +I had left their roof in London. +</p> + +<p> +My whole existence now took on a different aspect; my duties were +in no degree onerous; and Kit, the dear boy, so won every heart +that he was looked upon as a guest of the whole garrison, rather +than a prisoner. No restrictions were placed upon his movements, +and we roamed over the whole country with our fowling-pieces or +angles, and many a fine string of trout did we present to Madame +de Drucour and other friends. +</p> + +<p> +We explored the country from Louisbourg to Miré, and there we fell +in with Sarennes and his following, with whom Kit was delighted +beyond measure; and indeed there was much in the Canadian to attract +those who did not look beyond the externals. He fairly enchanted +the boy with his tales of savage life, his exhibition of his wild +followers, and his skill in woodcraft and the chase, and I soon +felt that Kit was revolving some plan for discovering the whereabouts +of his mother through his aid. +</p> + +<p> +This was the one flaw in my happiness. If I had not wished for her +death, I had at least hoped never to hear of her again, and indeed +there seemed but little likelihood of it in this remote quarter, +but every inquiry on the part of Kit gave me fresh uneasiness. This +he was quick to perceive, but as I had never given him an inkling +of the reason, he put my holding to him down to the liking of a +solitary exile for one of his own kind. +</p> + +<p> +Sarennes, too, saw my fondness for the lad, and took a pleasure in +attracting him from me on every possible excuse; but it was not +until a dinner given by M. de Drucour at the New Year that I saw +how far his petty cruelty could go. +</p> + +<p> +With an air of assumed geniality he said to the Commandant: “M. +de Drucour, before I start on my expedition to-morrow, I am tempted +to ask for a volunteer in the English lad Christopher. He is anxious +to go, and I shall be pleased to have him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monsieur, you can hardly have him without me, for I am +responsible to M. de Drucour for his safe-keeping,” I broke in, +with a chilling fear at my heart that my one treasure in the world +would be imperilled in such treacherous hands. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Maxwell seems over-fond of this prisoner,” sneered M. Prévost, +who was an unwelcome guest, but could not well be left out on an +official occasion. “A too-lenient jailer may be even more dangerous +than his prisoner at times,” he went on; and I saw that further +discussion might only precipitate matters, when I stood in so +delicate a position; for a soldier in foreign service, no matter +what his merit, is ever a ready object of suspicion. +</p> + +<p> +However, M. de Drucour turned matters by addressing me in his usual +courteous and friendly manner: “With these rumours of war in the +spring, have you had no inspiration for your Muse, Chevalier?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a song, if you will not hold the end a reflection on our +surroundings,” I replied. “However, remember that it is not I, but +my sword, that sings, and, I am afraid, only strikes a note common +to us all.” +</p> + +<p> +I regret I cannot give the graceful French couplets into which +Madame de Drucour had obligingly turned my verses, and so cleverly +preserved all the fire and strength of my original, which must now +serve as it was written. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“In Spanish hands I've bent and swung</span> + <span class="i1">With Spanish grace and skill;</span> + <span class="i0">I've scoured Lepanto of the Turk,</span> + <span class="i1">And Spain of Boabdil;</span> + <span class="i0">I've clanged throughout the Low Countrie;</span> + <span class="i1">I've held the Spanish Main;—</span> + <span class="i0">Ferrara made and fashioned me,</span> + <span class="i1">In Cordova, In Spain.</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“In Scottish hands I've saved the pride</span> + <span class="i1">That else had starved at home,</span> + <span class="i0">When under Bourbon's banner wide</span> + <span class="i1">We swept through Holy Rome;</span> + <span class="i0">In private fight I've cleared the slight</span> + <span class="i1">That Beauty's brow would stain;—</span> + <span class="i0">Ferrara made and fashioned me,</span> + <span class="i1">In Cordova, in Spain.</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“At Killiecrankie with Dundee</span> + <span class="i1">I've struck for James the King;</span> + <span class="i0">The blood-red waters of the Boyne</span> + <span class="i1">Have heard my metal ring;</span> + <span class="i0">Again with Mar at Sherriff-muir</span> + <span class="i1">I've raised the olden strain;—</span> + <span class="i0">Ferrara made and fashioned me,</span> + <span class="i1">In Cordova, in Spain.</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Along the line at Fontenoy</span> + <span class="i1">I've flashed in wild parade,</span> + <span class="i0">When on the English columns fell</span> + <span class="i1">The strength of Clare's Brigade;</span> + <span class="i0">I've stood for Bonnie Charles until</span> + <span class="i1">Culloden's fatal plain;—</span> + <span class="i0">Ferrara made and fashioned me,</span> + <span class="i1">In Cordova, in Spain.</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“But now in exiled hands I rust</span> + <span class="i1">Beside the salt sea's marge,</span> + <span class="i0">And though I dream of trumpet call,</span> + <span class="i1">Of rally, and of charge,</span> + <span class="i0">Of screaming fife, and throbbing drum,</span> + <span class="i1">As troops defile in train,—</span> + <span class="i0">I wake to hear the wailing moan</span> + <span class="i1">Of the imprisoning Main—</span> + <span class="i2">Dead is all Glory!</span> + <span class="i2">Dead all Fame!</span> + <span class="i0">Will never sound that song again—</span> + <span class="i1">That great, world-wakening refrain?—</span> + <span class="i0">Ferrara made and fashioned me,</span> + <span class="i1">In Cordova, in Spain.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +There was a spontaneous outburst of applause as I ended, for I had +seldom made a better effort, and my closing lines but echoed a +sentiment common to us all—that is, of all of us who were soldiers. +Such a creature as Prévost could never have a generous impulse stir +the weighing-machine which served him in lieu of a soul; and Sarennes +was spoiled for nobler aims by the debasing influence of la petite +guerre, dear to all Canadians. So M. Prévost saw fit to refrain +from all applause; and Sarennes, foolish boy, for boy he was, in +spite of his thirty years, was ill-bred enough to follow his example. +</p> + +<p> +“M. Prévost, surely you are over-critical when you do not applaud,” +said M. de St. Julhien, banteringly. “Remember we are not in the +rue St. Honoré, though I would trust this voice even there.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have more faith in that, then, than he has in his sword. He +puts it in Spanish and Scotch hands. Why not in French?” snapped +out the little centipede, virulently. +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly there are some French hands in which he would not trust +it,” retorted M. de Julhien, to our great delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Do your words bear that construction?” asked the nettled Commissary, +turning on me. +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly, too, M. de Maxwell may think it is not to be trusted in +some Canadian hands,” broke in Sarennes, with a hectoring air. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, gentlemen,” I returned, “you are coming too fast with your +questions. As for you, M. de Sarennes, I once offered you some good +advice which you did not see fit to follow, and now, even at the +risk of having it similarly disregarded, I will proffer more; which +is, not to expose yourself to punishment for the impertinences of +others. As for your question, when I have had some more satisfactory +experience of Canadians, I shall know better how to answer it.” +</p> + +<p> +“And has not your experience of me been satisfactory, monsieur?” +said he, pluming up again. +</p> + +<p> +“You are perfectly qualified to answer that question, yourself,” +I replied, looking “blank requisitions” at him so pointedly that +he simply reddened to the roots of his black hair and held his +tongue, to the amazement of all who had hoped for some further +amusement. +</p> + +<p> +“As for your question, M. Prévost,” I continued, rounding on him, +“I made no reflection on Frenchmen in general. They are my comrades, +my brothers-in-arms!” I said, playing to the company at large, by +whom my sentiment was greeted with a burst of applause. “As to +Frenchmen in particular, I have known some who were so dangerous +with the pen that I would indeed hesitate to trust them with the +sword.” Now, as Prévost was hated and dreaded for nothing more than +his lying reports to the Minister at home, and as no man in any +position at the table had escaped his venom, my sally was again +greeted not only with applause, but also with a roar of stentorian +laughter. +</p> + +<p> +The whole affair ended in nothing more serious than the hot words +and laughter, for Sarennes, though a braggart, was not evil-tempered, +at least towards me. For Prévost I cared not a maravedi, and would +have spitted him liked a smoked herring at any time with the greatest +pleasure. My chief disappointment was that I had not succeeded in +my attempt to obtain a refusal of Sarennes's request for Kit's +company, an attempt I dared not renew, and was forced to give a +reluctant consent when it was referred to me. +</p> + +<p> +My heart was big with foreboding the last evening we spent together, +and it required an effort almost beyond my powers to refrain from +taking him into my arms and telling him he was my son. I almost +persuaded myself that my life was so wretched, so lonely, so +hopeless, that I would be justified in so doing. But for some reason +or other I did not, why, I cannot pretend to say, and I saw him +march proudly off at daybreak the next morning with my secret still +untold. I wondered if any one would be equally faithful to me. +</p> + +<p> +Such a weary month of January I never passed, for no one knew the +danger of these miserable, skulking little war parties better than +I; and to add to this there was my distrust of Sarennes eating at +my heart every time I tried to make little of my fears. +</p> + +<p> +What wonder was it, when the door of my room opened after a quiet +knock, one stormy afternoon, and the dark face of the Canadian +appeared, that I sprang to my feet and demanded, savagely: “Where +is he? What have you done with him?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was taken,” he answered, quietly, “and I am here to answer for +him.” +</p> + +<p> +There was such a dignity in his bearing, such a sensibility in his +look, that I was melted at once, and my murderous suspicion put to +flight. +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand pardons, monsieur, for my rudeness. I have been anxious +day and night for the boy. Tell me what has happened.” +</p> + +<p> +He told the story simply, and I could not doubt that he told it +truly. It was the ordinary incident, common to these wretched +marauding parties, an attempted surprise, a couple of men lost, my +poor boy wounded and captured before the baffled coureurs de bois +could attempt a rescue. +</p> + +<p> +When Sarennes left me with some words of sympathy, I was suffering +only what hundreds of fathers have suffered before me. That it was +common was no alleviation to my pain. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h2> + +<p> +“HE WHO SOWS HATRED SHALL GATHER RUE” +</p> + +<p> +Sarennes had taken himself off again to gather fresh laurels in +ambuscade and retreat, the alternatives which compose the whole +science of la petite guerre, and I had but little to remind me of +my loss save the constant ache at my heart when I was alone, a +position I strove by every means possible to avoid. +</p> + +<p> +That Sarennes was desirous of making some reparation for his injury +towards me, was proved by a letter from him dated in March, and +written from his mother's house at Beaulieu: +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Chevalier,—There is an Englishwoman staying here who claims + to be your wife. What do you wish me to do in the matter? I am + ready to oblige you in any way. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Sarennes.” +</p> + +<p> +I have never made any pretension to a fortitude other than that +which any honourable gentleman of my standing might claim. I was +still sore under this last stroke of undeserved misfortune which +had so cruelly deprived me of Kit, and I could not but look on his +mother as at least the indirect cause of my loss. Under these +feelings I delivered the following to the Indian runner: +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Monsieur,—If you have any regard for me, keep the lady claiming + to be my wife at such distance that I may never set eyes on her + again. Should she be in want, I will gladly reimburse you for + any expenditure you may make on her account. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Le Chev. Maxwell.” +</p> + +<p> +We now come to events on which the antiquary and the student might +demand a larger attention and notice than I shall devote to them. +I have been too prominent an actor in the drama of the downfall of +New France to write on the subject with that calmness and impartiality +with which I try to view all matters; and I leave it to the gentleman +who has passed his lifetime at his desk, undisturbed by any greater +explosion than that of wifely indignation at his late hours and +waste of otherwise valuable ink and paper, to relate the battles +he has never seen and weigh the interests he cannot understand. +</p> + +<p> +In January we had positive intelligence that the English would make +a descent in force at the earliest possible moment in the spring. +On the first day of June we saw from our ramparts the sails of +their fleet spreading over the horizon, and by the eighth they +attempted their descent by land. +</p> + +<p> +We made such defence as seemed possible at the time, but, like all +unsuccessful efforts, it has been severely criticised since, chiefly +by “the gentleman at his desk.” +</p> + +<p> +As we lay in position at our post at La Cormorandière, hourly +expecting the landing of the enemy, it was reported by our +surgeon-general, M. Guérin, that we were utterly without provision +of lint, brandy, and other necessities for the wounded. A messenger +was instantly despatched with a requisition to the Commissary, but +he returned with a message from Prévost saying, “There are none of +these articles in the King's magazines; if the English force our +intrenchments, it will be their business to take care of the wounded; +if, on the other hand, we are successful, we shall have time enough +to attend to them.” +</p> + +<p> +Our colonel, M. de St. Julhien, read this heartless reply aloud, +amid the deepest execrations on the part of our officers, and then +turning to me, said, “Here, Chevalier, I understand there is no +love lost between you and this creature. I commission you to see +that these requirements are fulfilled by the morning.” And he sate +down and wrote an order on the Commissary to “deliver to the +Chevalier Maxwell such stores as he may demand for the use of the +Company d'Artois.” +</p> + +<p> +Armed with this authority, I set forth at once, and arriving at +the town about eight o'clock, made my way to the Commissary's house +and demanded him with scant ceremony. +</p> + +<p> +He appeared with but little delay, and I caught sight of the bright +face of Madame, alight with curiosity, behind him, though he clapped +the door to sharply enough. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Monsieur le Lieutenant”—he took a petty spite in disregarding +my title of Chevalier—“what brings you here away from your post?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only the definite intention, M. le Commissaire, of seeing that +you obey orders. I require stores for my colonel; there is his +order, and if you try any of your devil's tricks with me, sir, I +will make no more of running you through than I would a rat.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned as white as a piece of dried plaster. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, sir, none of your shuffling. I want an answer at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“You'll get no answer from me, sir, other than I have sent. I have +no stores; the magazines are empty.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know you to be a thief, M. le Commissaire, and it is no great +stretch of imagination to believe you a liar. Show me your vaults.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, very well. We shall see who is right. We shall see +who is a liar,” and he started off with alacrity. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait, sir! Where are you going?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only into the next room to get my keys.” +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; I'll go with you,” and I followed him into the next +room. +</p> + +<p> +Here we found Madame on tiptoe with excitement and curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Where are you going? What is the matter?” she asked, quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“None of your business!” roared her husband, with his usual brutality. +</p> + +<p> +“Only into the vault to look for stores.” I answered, throwing as +much feeling into the commonplace answer as was possible. +</p> + +<p> +Prévost provided himself with a lanthorn and led the way through +the passage and down the steps leading to the cellars, muttering +and scolding to himself, for he dared not make a complaint to which +I might reply, until we reached the outer door. This he unlocked, +and I discovered a long passage, evidently underground, for the +air struck me as damp and chill as we traversed it, to the entrance +of the principal vault, which he opened. +</p> + +<p> +“There! See for yourself if I have not told the truth. It is as +empty as death!” and as he spake he held the lanthorn high. +</p> + +<p> +Bat this did not satisfy me. I was determined to take nothing for +granted until I had personally proved the truth of his protestations. +</p> + +<p> +“Give me the light,” I said, taking it from him as I entered. +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly.” he replied; but I had not taken a dozen steps before +I heard a clang, the quick turn of a key, and found I was a prisoner, +trapped like a rat by the man I most hated and despised. +</p> + +<p> +At first I was inclined to laugh, for the turn was not without its +cleverness, but the inclination was quickly stifled as I realized +what such a situation might mean to one in my position. +</p> + +<p> +A foreign officer failing to be at his post when about to meet his +own countrymen face to face, would be a default open to such +construction as filled me with dismay—a construction which the +wretch who had trapped me would use every means to convert into +the blackest of certainties. When the first feeling of dismay had +passed I made a careful examination of my prison, but the result +brought no encouragement. The vault, which was an outer one, was +only provided with two heavy doors, the one by which I had entered, +and the other doubtless leading to another vault. There was not a +sign of any window or opening, and the walls were covered with a +white coating of fungus. In one corner was some useless household +lumber, and against the wall stood a wooden coffer like those in +well-to-do farmers' houses at home; save for these odds and ends, +the place was indeed empty; in so far, at least, my gentleman had +not lied. +</p> + +<p> +I placed my lanthorn on the floor, and seating myself on the chest, +tried to form some plan of action. There was no use in attempting +to attract attention by raising an outcry, for I was certainly +underground, cut off by the long passage from the house. If I made +a fire the smoke could not escape, and I should only gain suffocation +for my pains. There was absolutely no escape that I could further +by my unaided effort. Dreadful as this thought was, I was tortured +by others infinitely worse; by phantasms that the future might well +convert into horrid realities. +</p> + +<p> +With a too-ready imagination I framed the crafty charges which my +enemy would prefer against me. No sense of shame would prevent him +from distorting my innocent relations towards his wife into a +treacherous attempt upon his honour; he would no doubt trump up +some suggestive story of my presence in his house. My unsupported +statement of my imprisonment must stand against his specious +tale—the word of the accused against that of the injured husband, +and he an official with powerful backing. The ridiculous trap into +which I had so stupidly fallen would be difficult to explain without +derision at any time, but now it was a time of actual war, when +any infraction of duty would be punished with the severest penalty; +nothing short of death would be a sufficient excuse for my failure +to return to my post. +</p> + +<p> +I pictured myself, an alien—for a foreigner is always an alien no +matter what his merit or service may be—fighting for life against +the malevolence of a virulent enemy, contending too against that +monstrous perversion of justice which so often sways a court-martial +—composed as it is of men little qualified by training for impartial +judgment—towards the severest interpretation where an officer +without influence is concerned, to win a cheap applause from +outsiders and inferiors. +</p> + +<p> +My blood ran cold at the thought. I stared at the lanthorn until +my eyes ached, and, when I looked elsewhere, the image of the flame +only faded to give place to another scene in the drama that tried +my fortitude almost beyond endurance: It was early dawn outside +the Brouillon Bastion, chilling sheets of fog swept in from over +the dull waters, and there, with back against the ramparts, stood +a coatless figure, with pinioned arms and bandaged eyes, facing a +file of soldiers—the dreadful waiting in the dark, the whispered +commands, the sudden movement of the men, and then—I jumped to my +feet trembling in every limb, and with shaking hand wiped the +gathered perspiration from my forehead, but could not wipe away +the vision of the men staring at the motionless figure lying face +downward on the trampled grass, dishonoured, never to be spoken +of, until the Great Day, when all the injustices of the ages shall +be righted and made clear. +</p> + +<p> +I again seized the lanthorn and re-examined every stone and corner +with feverish hope, only to have despair triumph over it more +completely than before. Then came a season of mad revolt. It was +too horrible! too impossible! that I, Hugh Maxwell, a gentleman, +who had lived delicately, who had shone in society which the world +courted, who had loved fair women, had talked, and smiled, and sung +to them, could in a few short hours be lying a mangled corpse in +this obscure corner of the world, could die the death of a dog, of +a traitor, the most shameful that can come to a man of honour. I +was filled with a vast pity for myself, so mighty and overwhelming +that tears filled my eyes as for another, for I saw myself apart, +as it were, as distinctly as I saw that pitiful figure before the +ramparts; then the childishness of it flashed across me and I +laughed aloud; but my laughter was no more real than my tears, for +neither brought relief, and the weary round began again. +</p> + +<p> +How many hours this continued I do not know, but my attention was +suddenly arrested by a sound at the door, and I made out a jingle +of keys. Quickly blowing out the light, I drew my sword and prepared +to force an exit, no matter what the odds. But scarce had the door +moved when I caught a low whisper. “The chest against the wall! +Quick!” Then followed the voice of Madame Prévost raised in dismay: +“Mon Dieu, Charles! My candle has gone out! Hurry, bring a light!” +</p> + +<p> +The moment's delay sufficed; I gained the chest and squeezed myself +in, letting the lid down over me. +</p> + +<p> +In a moment and before my heart ceased beating I heard her clear +accents again. “There, Charles! There, Antoine! Take it up and +carry it to my room.” And I felt the chest slowly lifted, and the +men staggered out, complaining loudly of its weight. +</p> + +<p> +Up the stairs we travelled, uncomfortably for me; then on a level +again along the passage; and I was laughing to myself at the probable +outcome of my adventure, when I heard, +</p> + +<p> +“Where in the name of all the devils are you lugging that thing?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the Commissary! +</p> + +<p> +“To my room. I want to put my furs away,” came the soft answer from +madame. +</p> + +<p> +“Blague! Put it down!” And I was jarred on the stone flags. +</p> + +<p> +Then came a pause, and I was speculating on the best mode of attack +for a man in my ridiculous position, when the chest was lifted at +one end and again dropped heavily. +</p> + +<p> +Then came the same voice, but with a tone of triumph to it: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, do as you like; but there is a lot of old rubbish in it. +Take it first, and empty it over the Princess's Bastion!” And once +more the chest was slowly lifted. +</p> + +<p> +A pretty situation surely, and clever on the part of M. the +Commissary again. A tumble down on those rocks or into the moat +would be equally effective, and would not require such explanations +as if my body were found in the King's vaults; but my gentleman +reckoned without his host. +</p> + +<p> +My scheme was as simple as his own. Hardly had we got clear of the +house before my mind was made up. When I judged we were at the +open space between the end of the barricaded street and the ramparts +I uttered a terrifying yell and flapped the lid. It was enough. +The chest went crashing to the ground, and I crawled out, bruised +but otherwise unhurt, and my valiant porters were out of sight. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0088-large.jpg" name="picture-0088"> + <img src="images/picture-0088-small.jpg" + alt="I crawled out bruised, but otherwise unhurt."/></a> + +<p> +Without delay I made my way to M. Bois de la Mothe, in charge of +the fleet, and stated the case, carefully suppressing, however, +all mention of my personal adventure, and by morning was in possession +of the desired stores, extracted from the Commissary by a peremptory +threat to put him in irons and send him to France if they were not +forth-coming. +</p> + +<p> +Long before our preparations could be made for leaving the town, +the sound of musketry reached us from La Cormorandière, and we knew +the landing was attempted. I was all impatience to be off, but +our scanty stores could not be risked if the attempt were successful; +so with the others I anxiously awaited the result. But, alas! our +stoutest hopes were dashed by the sight of white uniforms straggling +over the crest of the hill in full flight, and, instead of a hospital +train, I was soon heading a sortie to support the retreat of our +troops, with the cannon thundering over our heads to cover their +entry into the threatened town. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h2> + +<p> +“A FRIEND AT ONE'S BACK IS A SAFE BRIDGE” +</p> + +<p> +One after another our positions were abandoned or driven in, until +the plan of defence by our outlying works entirely failed, and we +were forced to fall back on the sorry defences of the town itself. +</p> + +<p> +Our ships did little or no effective service, and though we succeeded +in closing the mouth of the harbour and were comparatively safe on +that side, the English crept closer and closer, until they hemmed +us in between their ever-contracting lines and the sea. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of the 8th of July the colonel of the regiment of +Bourgogne called for volunteers, and leaving the town by night, +six hundred strong, we hurled ourselves upon the enemy's southern +line, only to be driven back with heavy enough losses on each side, +and at daybreak to see the English General, Wolfe, in a more advanced +position. +</p> + +<p> +Among the prisoners we carried in with us was a young officer of +the 78th, a Highland regiment. +</p> + +<p> +My services as interpreter were not required, as he spake French +perfectly, so it was not until after his interview with M. de +Drucour that I met him in company with my colonel. +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier, a countryman of your own, an unwilling guest on our +poor hospitality. Captain Nairn, the Chevalier de Kirkconnel.” +</p> + +<p> +We bowed, but I supplemented the courtesy by extending my hand, +for I was in no doubt for a moment as to his identity, his likeness +to his sister Margaret being remarkable. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Nairn is well known to me,” I said, laughing. “I could +even name him more intimately.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, and what might that be?” he returned, on his guard. +</p> + +<p> +“Archie.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless my soul! Who are you, sir? I haven't heard that name +for ten years!” he exclaimed, in the greatest surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“I can go even further. I can name a certain mission which ended +in Fort William.” +</p> + +<p> +“Sir,” he answered, with grave dignity, “I dislike mystifications. +Who told you these things?” +</p> + +<p> +“One Maxwell.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have a care, sir; you are naming one to whom I am under deep +obligation.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am naming one, Captain Nairn, who will be as pleased to be of +service to you now as then.” +</p> + +<p> +At this his face fairly flamed with pleasure, and he caught my hand +in both his. +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier, I know you now. Maxwell of Kirkconnel! There is no +man I would rather meet in this world than yourself.” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0092-large.jpg" name="picture-0092"> + <img src="images/picture-0092-small.jpg" + alt="Chevalier, I know you now"/></a> + +<p> +“I cannot make out a word of your jargon,” broke in M. de St. +Julhien, “but you seem to understand each other. Barbarians, va! +You are best left in charge of each other. You are on parole, +remember, Captain Nairn—and you are on your honour as host, +remember, Chevalier. Do not disgrace our reputation for hospitality. +If your cellar be low, I have a bottle or two uncracked,” he cried, +as he bowed and walked off, and we took our way to my quarters. +</p> + +<p> +My heart was bursting for news of my dear Margaret, but these were +the last tidings I could ask of a brother whose sister had cast +him off. In ordinary courtesy I had to abandon my personal +gratification and feign a lively interest in his adventures. +</p> + +<p> +These, however, I have no intention of inflicting upon my reader. +I have refrained from telling much of interest in connection with +myself through a reticence which is, perhaps, blamable; and Captain +Nairn, although relating a tale which bore every impress of truth, +was bald in his manner, lacking that lively sensibility which is +the charm of all cultivated narration, and, being unable to view +any occurrence save from a personal stand, was utterly lacking in +any sense of humour. +</p> + +<p> +At length I felt I was justified in asking for tidings of her, who +for me, stood first among all women. +</p> + +<p> +“You are aware, Captain Nairn, that when with my cousin Lady Jane +Drummond in London and Paris I saw much of your sister Margaret. +I know of the unhappy resolution she took, on hearing of your +acceptance of service under King George, but may I hope that it is +dissipated ere now, and that you can give me news of her, for these +hostilities have prevented all correspondence for near a year past?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he answered, gravely; “my poor sister has never brought +herself to forgive me, and I have never had word from her direct +since I informed her of my resolve. I heard before sailing that +Lady Jane had died early last year, leaving her well provided, and +I should not be surprised to learn that she had taken the veil, as +there was some disappointment in connection with the Vicomte de +Trincardel, whom, I believe, she was to have married.” +</p> + +<p> +And with this I had to be content, for Nairn was not a man of many +words, and in any event his acquaintance with his sister, whom he +had not seen since a child, was slight compared with mine. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the besieging line crept closer and closer about us. +Building after building went crashing down, or was swept heavenward +in a tower of flame; our weakened ramparts crumbled day and night +before the never-ceasing storm of shot and shell breaking on them, +and the very earth trembled under the incessant thunder of the +bombardment. +</p> + +<p> +Our one hope lay in the appearance of Sarennes, who had been ordered +to our relief with a sufficient force of Canadians and Indians. +Not that the latter are by any means the formidable foe generally +imagined, but the terror of their name was great in European ears, +and any diversion on the part of so dreaded an ally would give us +instant relief. This was the hope that supported us; our gallant +fellows stood by their guns on their crumbling ramparts, and as +they fell beside them more than one man said: “Our turn next. Wait +till they see the savages!” +</p> + +<p> +“Courage, my children! We only need Sarennes to show himself,” +Drucour repeated, as an incentive when he marked our fire slacken. +</p> + +<p> +“There is another signal for M. de Sarennes!” cried his intrepid +lady, undauntedly, as she daily fired her three cannon with her +own brave hands, and day by day men and officers uncovered and +cheered her as she passed. +</p> + +<p> +Within the crowded casemates by the King's Bastion, the only place +of safety now left, terrified women and children wept and prayed, +and wounded men cried and raved for the delayed succour; every time +the enemy's fire slackened for an instant—it was Sarennes who had +attacked them in rear; every time the thunder redoubled in the +vaulted chambers—it was our support of Sarennes's attempt; but as +day after day came and went without relief, the weeping, prayers, +crying, and ravings were hushed into a dull despair, and on the +ramparts and in the casemates men cursed at the very mention of +that name which had so long been their sole support. +</p> + +<p> +One night in the middle of July, Nairn, in discussing the probable +length of our resistance, said to me: +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier, What will you do when this is at an end?” +</p> + +<p> +Although it was a question which had been perplexing me constantly, +I answered, carelessly enough, “If this bombardment keep up, the +chances are that I shall not be called upon to settle so important +a point.” +</p> + +<p> +“Chances enough,” he responded, gravely; “it is never the number +of men who fall, but the number who escape, at which I am astonished. +But that is not the point. I have been thinking much, and am much +troubled about your future.” +</p> + +<p> +“So am I, for that matter, though I have never found that I have +advanced it a hair's-breadth by losing a night's sleep over it. +No, no, Captain Nairn, the best thing that can happen to me is to +do the grande culbute.” +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier, I am not only under heavy personal obligation towards +you, but the memory of your friendship for me and mine ties me +closer to you than you know. I stand high in the esteem of my +general, who in turn can command attention to any request. You have +approved of my own conduct in accepting service; let me open the +way for you to the same honourable career. You have abundantly paid +your debt to France; give your arm to your own people. Surely there +come times when you dream of 'home.'” +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Nairn,” I answered, “believe me, I can pay you no higher +compliment than in saying I receive your words without offence. I +am sensible, deeply sensible of the kindness, may I say the affection, +which prompts your offer; but 'my people' are wanderers on the face +of the earth; my lot is that of the soldier of fortune. 'Home,' +Nairn! Though I have never set my foot on my own soil save as an +outlaw and a rebel, my heart at times grows faint for it, and the +turn of an old song sets my brain aching and my eyes longing, but +my only inheritance has been the loyalty which has robbed me of it +all. That I am on the losing side is my misfortune; that I have +inspired your respect and affection is my reward. I thank you from +the bottom of my heart, but do not mention the subject again if +you love me.” +</p> + +<p> +One personal gratification the siege brought to me was the renewal +of my intercourse with the fair Madame Prévost. Now that I had her +truculent husband under my thumb, for I held exposure over him like +the sword of Damocles, I was free to see as much of her as I chose. +</p> + +<p> +People eat and sleep, breathe and hope, though danger may lie down +with them by night and draw their curtains with the day; at such +times the most marked difference is that life goes with a faster +foot, so that my intimacy with my charming rescuer grew at a pace +altogether disproportionate to the hours. +</p> + +<p> +On the evening of the 24th of July, when capitulation was unavoidable, +when our fire was so weak that it was more like funeral guns than +a defence, and our one anxiety was to obtain honourable terms, +Madame Prévost came to me in a sad state of distraction. +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier,” she said, “it is hopeless! No matter what the commandant +may resolve, we are betrayed. Prévost will force them to accept +any terms, no matter how great the humiliation. It is nothing to +him so long as he escapes; but it is death to me. I have been +despised all these years on account of my connection with him; I +have suffered tortures of shame daily through the siege, and now +all will be crowned with this height of infamy. I cannot bear it! +I cannot look upon it!” And the poor distracted creature fell to +sobbing and weeping as if her very heart would break. +</p> + +<p> +When she had recovered somewhat she revealed her design, which was +that, should Prévost succeed in forcing the commandant to the +disgraceful surrender we all feared, she and I would escape together. +</p> + +<p> +I was much moved by her generous offer, for generous it was beyond +a doubt. I have known too much of women not to recognise when full +credit should be given to their virtues, and if Madame Prévost had +a second thought beyond escaping from the disgrace of the +capitulation, then I know nothing of the sex. +</p> + +<p> +“My dearest madame,” I answered, warmly, “'tis quite out of the +question.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why? I have seen old Gourdeau, the pilot; his two sons have a boat +at my service. They know every hole and corner of the harbour, and +will do anything for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“The boat is not the question, my dear madame; it is yourself I am +thinking of.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I am ready. I will have everything in readiness, if the +capitulation be not signed by nightfall, it will be by the morning, +and the moment it is determined on, you are free. We can easily +pass out by the wicket near the Brouillon Bastion, and the Gourdeau +will be at their post. I have thought of everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, madame; you have thought of everything save yourself. +Have you thought of what the world will say to your flight with +me? It will only credit you with motives of which I know you have +never dreamed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon Dieu, monsieur I this is cruel of you!” she cried, much +distressed. “I was thinking as much of you as of myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were, I am sure, thinking more of me than of yourself, and +for this I speak plainly, madame. I am overcome with your generosity, +but my appreciation of it is too high to allow you, an honourable +woman, to wreck your good name for my sake. I cannot go among the +English, where you might be unrecognised, but where I am still a +proscribed rebel; you cannot go among your own people to Quebec, +where you would but suffer a martyrdom for your courage and sacrifice. +No, no, my dear madame, believe me, it is not to be thought of!” +</p> + +<p> +Here she began to cry again, somewhat to my relief, for I saw that +her resolution was giving way. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon ami! I have been nothing but a silly fool of a woman all +my life! Since my husband married me out of a convent, no man has +spoken to me but to flatter, or to make love, until you came. You +are the only one who has treated me as an equal, and because of +this, I would do anything for you. I care nothing for what the +world says!” +</p> + +<p> +“Probably not, madame, because you have no idea what extremely +cruel things it can say,” I returned, for enthusiasm is a bad +beginning for argument. “But suppose I were willing. I have only +my sword to depend upon, and you know how much that is worth +nowadays! If I turned it into a spit, I could not even provide a +capon to roast upon it. But long before we came to that pass we +would infallibly be captured or starved, for a woman cannot put up +with the hardships of such a venture. I had some months of it in +Scotland after the Forty-five, and I know what it means. To lodge +à la belle étoile, and to dine with Duke Humphrey, as we English +put it, may be the highest romance, but I assure you the quarters +are draughty in the one, and the table bare with the other.” +</p> + +<p> +As I spake her face brightened, and by the time I made an end she +took both my hands and said, determinedly: “Then, mon ami, you +shall go alone. I will have everything in readiness, and I do it +for you with all my heart—the more so that your refusal makes it +better worth the doing,” she added, with an attempt at a laugh, +and then turned and ran off, that she might not discover her feelings +further. +</p> + +<p> +It was a surprising outcome, and much as I regretted the seemingly +ungracious part I was forced to play, I could not but rejoice at +the opportunity offered of escaping from English hands, particularly +those of such regiments as Lee's, Lascelles's, or Warburton's, my +old opponents in Scotland. There was no difficulty in carrying out +the simple plan, for, in providing the boat and the men, Madame +Prévost had overcome the one obstacle. Hostilities would be +suspended, vigilance would be relaxed, and if the capitulation were +not signed before nightfall, it would be an easy matter to gain +the harbour, and under cover of the night to pass the enemy's +batteries and make some unguarded point on the coast beyond their +lines before day. +</p> + +<p> +It fell out much as we had anticipated. M. de Drucour demanded the +same terms as those extended to the English at Port Mahon, in +Minorca. These were refused, and he resolved, with our unanimous +consent, to abide by the assault. But Prévost was at work, and so +artfully did he play on our commandant that by eleven o'clock the +same night, July 25, 1758, the terms of the harsh capitulation were +accepted. +</p> + +<p> +At midnight, the capitulation being signed, I passed out by the +Brouillon Bastion, found the men with their shallop in readiness, +and, stepping in, said, in answer to their query: +</p> + +<p> +“All the papers are signed; the English enter in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“'Dieu seul devine les sots,'” quoted old Gourdeau, sadly. “Shove +off!” +</p> + +<h2><a name="PART_II">Part II</a></h2> + +<p> +MARGARET'S STORY +</p> + +<p> +<i>“Le coeur mène ou il va.”</i> — Old Proverb. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h2> + +<p> +WHAT HAPPENED IN THE BAIE DES CHALEURS +</p> + +<p> +Never, never shall I forget the elation which filled my heart as +I stepped ashore with Lucy that September day in the Baie des +Chaleurs, in Canada. After weeks of unrest, my feet once more were +on the sure, unchanging earth, in the land that held what was more +than all else to me, “my dear and only love,” my Hugh. +</p> + +<p> +As we strolled along the clear, hard sands beyond the sound of the +men toiling at the water-casks, I felt tempted to cry: “Lucy, Lucy, +can you not see my happiness? I am no Madame de St. Just, but +Margaret Nairn, the happiest woman in all the world, because my +feet press the same ground that bears my love.” This, poor Lucy, +with her cramped Methodistical ways, would have held savoured only +of lightness, or worse; she could never understand the longing that +had worn at my heart all these years, and, most of all, she could +never conceive of a love such as that of my Hugh. Crowning all my +joy came back the words of his dear, dear song— +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,</span> + <span class="i1">Nor deep eneugh the sea,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor braid eneugh this weary warld</span> + <span class="i1">To part my Love frae me.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +No, nothing should part us now. Poverty and pride had kept him +silent when my heart was yearning for him; but now, poverty did +not exist, for I was here to make him restitution, and the pride +was all mine now, in claiming a love that belonged to me alone. +Love was King, and +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“The King shall have his own</span> + <span class="i1">Once more!</span> + <span class="i0">The King shall have his own!”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +I sang, mimicking his manly tone as best I might, to the great +astonishment of Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +Delighted as we were merely to feel the sands beneath our feet, +the soft, fresh green of the forest which edged them close attracted +us, and we timidly made our way under the first scattered trees. +Then seeing no wild animals, of which we were greatly in dread, +and hearing the reassuring voices of the seamen, we ventured in +far enough to gain the thick, sweet-smelling carpet of pine needles, +and at length seated ourselves by a little stream, but near enough +the sands to see the waters of the bay glinting between the trees. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I am so happy!” I said, in the fulness of my heart, +giving her my hand, for I looked on her more as a companion than +a waiting-woman; but before she could reply a hand was clapped over +my mouth, and I saw Lucy struggling in the arms of a savage. An +overwhelming terror crushed all life and sense out of me, and I +swooned away. +</p> + +<p> +When I recovered I found I was being carried swiftly by two savages, +one at my shoulders and another at my feet, but my terror was so +great upon me that I dared not make a sound. How long, or how far +we went I could not even conjecture. I saw the trees passing before +my upturned eyes as in some horrid dream, but it was not until I +began to catch glimpses of the sky through the thinning branches, +and my captors halted in an open space, setting me on my feet, that +my senses came back in some degree. +</p> + +<p> +We were beside the water again, dark and empty. The Indians +immediately brought forth three of their light canoes, which they +had cunningly concealed among the bushes, and laid them gently on +the stream. No one molested me, nor, indeed, paid any special +attention to me as I sate and watched them. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0104-large.jpg" name="picture-0104"> + <img src="images/picture-0104-small.jpg" + alt="And laid them gently on the stream."/></a> + +<p> +The pictures in such works as La Hontain and others I had seen were +unreal, and I could not recognise their models in the men about +me. They were painted, it is true, but in a manner more grotesque +than affrighting; their hair was black and lanky, plastered close +to their heads, but with one or two long, plaited braids escaping, +ornamented with beads. Their only clothing consisted of leather +leggings more or less tattered, and the belts for their weapons, +which crossed their naked bodies; each one was shod with soft +moccasins neatly ornamented, and I could not but admire the ease +and agility of their movements. Strangely enough, I was no longer +possessed by my former terrors, my only anxiety being for Lucy; +but I could not doubt she was in safety, as the Indians were +evidently expecting the arrival of the rest of the band. +</p> + +<p> +Before long we heard sounds of their approach, and my poor Lucy +appeared. “Oh, my dear, dear mistress!” she cried, “I was afraid +I should never see you again!” and the faithful creature clasped +me in her arms and kissed me as if I had been a child. Once she +was convinced of my safety, she straight recovered her serenity, +for it was more than composure. Her absolute faith and trust that +we were in the hand of God—of “Our Heavenly Father,” as she always +said—was so complete that I leaned upon her strength and was +comforted. +</p> + +<p> +All was now ready for the embarkation, but, to our dismay, we were +directed to different canoes. No force was used. Indeed, my captor, +who appeared to be the leader, or chief, for he wore somewhat more +of their tawdry finery than the others, and his face was decorated +by a broad band of white below the eyes, seemed anxious to add to +my comfort, directing me how to dispose of myself in the bottom of +the canoe. But once separated from Lucy, I lost the courage with +which she had inspired me, and I trembled at the rough, guttural +voices of the savages, who talked their loudest, filling me with +the greater apprehension, as it betokened they held themselves +beyond pursuit or discovery. +</p> + +<p> +But Lucy, dear courageous soul that she was, divined my fears, and +sent back her message of reassurance to me in one of her people's +hymns, which I had learned to love on board the ship: +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Thou very present Aid</span> + <span class="i1">In suffering and distress,</span> + <span class="i0">The mind which still on Thee is stayed</span> + <span class="i1">Is kept in perfect peace.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +At length, when the clear September day began to fade, we landed, +and Lucy and I were again together. No one seemed to pay any +special regard to us, but though we had apparent liberty, I felt +sure that any attempt at escape would be futile; indeed, the black +forest about us held more terrors, to our minds, than even our +captivity. +</p> + +<p> +It was not long before the savages had kindled a fire, and the work +of clearing away the brush and making a camp was begun. In spite +of our fears, we could not but admire the readiness of those at +work, while the chief, with the principal warriors, lay about +smoking, and staring at us with their fixed eyes. +</p> + +<p> +In a little space a fish was broiled on the hot stones, and a +portion of it laid before us, cleanly enough, on sweet-smelling +bark freshly peeled from one of the great birch-trees near by. It +was flat for the want of salt, but we were too hungry to be over-nice, +and our spirits revived with the comfort of our meal. Then, wearied +out, I laid my head on Lucy's lap and fell fast asleep. +</p> + +<p> +I was awakened by the sound of voices raised in discussion, and, +to my amazement, I saw in the light of the fire a man in the garb +of a priest. Instead of a hat he wore a tight-fitting cap, his +soutane was rusty and patched in many places, and his feet were +shod with moccasins like the Indians. To my dismay, instead of the +accents which I expected, he was speaking to the chief in the same +guttural tongue as his own; yet his very gown was a protection, +and I rose and went to him without hesitation. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, father! You have been sent in answer to our prayers. Thank +God, we are safe!” +</p> + +<p> +He started at the sound of my voice, and stared at me for what +seemed a long time without a word. “Yes, you are safe,” he said, +at length, but in halting English; “these Indians will do you no +harm. They will carry you to some post farther south, whence word +will be sent to your friends among the English, and you will be +ransomed. Yes, you are safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“O, mon père,” I implored, breaking into French, for I saw that +was his tongue, “do not speak so! You will not leave us with them! +For the sake of the mother who bore you, listen to me!” and I threw +myself on my knees and stretched out my hands to him, but he drew +back as if my touch would have hurt him. “Do not forsake us; take +us with you! We are women, and are helpless. I do not desire to +reach any English post. I have no friends among the English. Do +not abandon us to these men; we are both women, and I am a lady.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see that,” he said, more softly. “Where do you wish to go?” +</p> + +<p> +“To Louisbourg, mon père; our ship was bound there when we were +carried off.” +</p> + +<p> +“Had you any friends on board the ship?” +</p> + +<p> +“My woman had her son.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you a husband, or a brother, in Louisbourg?” +</p> + +<p> +My face flamed scarlet at the unexpected question, but I answered +that I had not, without further explanation. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you cannot go to Louisbourg. It is quite impossible,” he +declared, with authority. “Louisbourg is no place for women at any +time, least of all now. The important matter is to set you free +from these savages, but you may rest without alarm to-night, and +I will decide what is to be done before morning.” +</p> + +<p> +He spake these last words wearily, like a man who had received a +hurt, which moved my heart towards him in quick pity, and I waited +to see if he would speak again, but he only raised his hand and +blessed me. +</p> + +<p> +Lucy received my report with her usual quiet; even the tidings that +we were not to go to Louisbourg did not disturb her. “He knows +better than we, and he will be guided in all his decisions.” +</p> + +<p> +Despite the assurances of our safety, we neither of us closed our +eyes that night. Apart from the anxiety as to our destination, the +strangeness of our situation, the crackling of the fire, and the +uncanny noises of the forest kept us at such a tension that sleep +was impossible, and we were awake before any of our captors were +astir. +</p> + +<p> +I looked eagerly for the priest, and saw him kneeling at a little +distance, absorbed in his morning devotions. Thereupon we withdrew +quietly to the river, and soon returned, greatly refreshed, to find +the whole camp afoot, and the priest awaiting us at the water's +edge. Going directly to him, I asked, “Mon père, what have you +decided?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you go with me,” he said, quietly. And I turned to Lucy, but +she had already caught the joyous message of our deliverance from +my face. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></h2> + +<p> +LE PÈRE JEAN, MISSIONARY TO THE INDIANS +</p> + +<p> +Though the priest spake with confidence, I judged he had no small +difficulty in persuading the savages to part with us, for there +was much discussion and apparently grumbling on the part of the +chief; but at length the obstacle, whatever it was, was overcome, +and the priest announced we were free to depart. +</p> + +<p> +“My canoe is small for four people, and would be too heavy when we +begin the ascent of the Matapediac,” he said, “but I will borrow +another from the savages, with two men to paddle. Explain to your +woman that she is to go with my servant André in the one, and you +will follow in the other with me. She need have no fear; André is +to be trusted in all things.” +</p> + +<p> +These matters being settled, we were made spectators to surely the +strangest sight my eyes had ever looked upon. André brought forth +a small folding-table, and the priest, still in his rusty soutane, +recited the holy office of the mass to the kneeling savages under +the shade of the great pines, and only the ripple of the water +broke the pauses in the service. To my astonishment, the Indians +recited the Venite, but this was the extent of their knowledge, +apart from the Pater-Noster, the Confiteor, and some of the responses. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0110-large.jpg" name="picture-0110"> + <img src="images/picture-0110-small.jpg" + alt="The priest recited the holy office of the mass."/></a> + +<p> +When the service was ended we breakfasted heartily, and, as soon +as the priest's preparations were made, we embarked with, oh, such +different hearts from yesterday! +</p> + +<p> +Now that our anxiety was at rest, I had time to observe the priest +more closely. Though his figure was slight, it moved to the dip of +his paddle like that of a man vigorous in all exercise; his long, +thin hands were full of strength; and his face, though worn, and +burned to almost as dark a colour as that of an Indian, was that +of a man who must have been handsome in his youth. At his age I +could not even guess, beyond that he looked old with his scanty +beard and long white hair, which fell almost to his shoulders. We +sat face to face as he paddled in the stern of the canoe, and I +marvelled at the wild grandeur of the river and forest, which I +had barely marked before. +</p> + +<p> +“It is beautiful—yes, very beautiful,” he said, presently, noticing +my admiration; “but it wears another face in winter; then it is +even terrible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you been long among these people, mon père?” +</p> + +<p> +“So long, that I know their tongue like our own; I know their faults +and virtues, which are also like our own, but more simple, more +direct; so long, that sometimes I forget I ever knew anything +different. But come, my daughter, I can tell my story at any time, +while you cannot have a better opportunity than the present to tell +me yours, which I must know if I am to be of service to you. The +man behind you cannot understand a word of French, so you may speak +freely.” +</p> + +<p> +Though I foresaw some explanation on my part would be necessary, +I had so far hardly looked upon the man before me as other than +our rescuer, one of our own blood and habit and tongue; but now it +was the priest, and, more than that, my equal, for he invited my +confidence not by right of his office but by right of his equality, +for gentle I divined him to be; and at his demand I was sore +confused, for I knew that questionings must follow which had been +spared me on shipboard. +</p> + +<p> +“My father,” I said, after a moment's hesitation, “I do not know +that you will understand my story, but I am sure that as a gentleman +you will believe it, and as a priest you will respect my confidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know many secrets; I have listened to many stories, my daughter; +yours will be none the less sacred that it comes of your own free +will, and not on account of my office.” +</p> + +<p> +Once I began, it was a relief. Since Lady Jane's death I had not +spoken freely to a human soul, and before I had gone far, I knew +I spake to one who understood. +</p> + +<p> +When I told him of my guardian's death, of my utter loneliness, of +my longing to be near him who stood nearer to me than all else in +the world, I caught the murmur, “Poor child! poor child!” as he +bent over his dipping paddle, and these low words of sympathy +unsealed the last door of my heart, and I told him all without +reserve: How Lady Jane had diverted her inheritance from her natural +heir, Hugh, because he was withheld from writing to her by a sense +of delicacy which would have been felt by few; how she had taken +such offence at this during her illness that, unknown to me, she +had altered her will in my favour, depriving him even of her former +provision; how the same delicacy which had prevented him approaching +his wealthy kinswoman separated him from me, her heir; how his +first separation from Lady Jane had been a voluntary renunciation +of his own interest, to ensure what he supposed would be my happiness; +how he had, for my sake, performed a hundred sacrifices, which in +happier days had been the delight of Lady Jane, his cousin; how +all these things so worked on me that, knowing my love would neither +speak nor come to me, I had thrown aside all other considerations +save that I was bound to make restitution to one so unjustly wronged, +and who had so suffered for my sake. For this I had broken through +every barrier convention had set up, and, sure in his affection, +I had come forth alone under an assumed name; “for I am no Madame +de St. Just, mon père, but Margaret Nairn, and he whom I love is +Hugh Maxwell, in garrison at Louisbourg. +</p> + +<p> +“I know, mon père, that many will point the finger of shame at me; +will say I am without decorum and without pride. But, my father, +I had been living without the love for which my soul had hungered +all these years, until the want became so strong that it swept away +all the petty rules of life and humbled my pride in the dust. I +came because I could not stay, and now my one prayer is to find +him.” +</p> + +<p> +When I finished, he was silent for a long time. “My child,” he +said, at last, “that you have greatly dared, I need not tell you. +But you know nothing of the pain, the misconstruction, the evil +report to which you have exposed yourself. +</p> + +<p> +“These 'petty rules,' as you style the barriers which society has +established, are the safeguards of men and women in all their +relations, and these you have chosen to disregard. For this sin +against the social law you will suffer as surely as you would for +any infraction of that law which, because it is higher, we call +divine. You have only begun to realise it, because you have now +met with one of those disarrangements we name 'accident.' Your +plan, had it not been for this, would have carried you safely to +Louisbourg, where you were to have met and married M. de Maxwell; +but now your whole design is overthrown; Louisbourg is an +impossibility; you are going in an opposite direction. Again, up +to the present you have only met with your inferiors, to whom you +owed no explanation of your position, but now the first man you +meet happens to belong to your own class, and your isolation is no +longer possible. Being a woman of high courage and principle, you +have revealed to him your position in all its helplessness. But +are you prepared to do the like when you meet the next person to +whom an explanation is due? Can you again say, 'I am Margaret Nairn +come out to meet my lover'?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my father, my father!” I cried, with a bewildering shame at +my heart, and tears which I could not repress filling my eyes. “How +could I foresee this? Everything seemed so plain. I was no longer +a young girl, but a woman grown, with all a woman's strength of +love, when the death of Lady Jane left me without a soul to whom +I could turn, save him to whom I had given my first and only love. +I had been denied all its expression at the time I most longed for +it; I was deprived of its support when I most needed it, through +the mistaken sense of honour which drove into exile the gentlest +and most devoted of men. He was not one to push his own interest +at any time, and now that I am burdened with this undesired fortune, +his pride would fasten the door between us. It seemed to me—I +thought—that I could come to him and say, 'See, I bring back what +was yours by right.' Then, I had no doubts, no hesitations; but +now, they crowd in upon me when I am alone, and at times I cannot +keep my heart from sinking. I am not afraid, but I am in a dark +place, and I know not where to turn for light.” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to Her who has known sorrow above all women, my daughter. Each +of us will think this over in such light as we may find, and will +decide as we may be guided. Meantime do not waste your strength +or courage in unavailing regrets or reproaches. Remember this poor +woman with you has her own trial and anxiety. Give her your sympathy +and your help. Much may come to us through our own effort, if it +be for another.” +</p> + +<p> +When we made our camp that night, Lucy and I, much to our delight, +were allowed to take a share in the preparation of the meal, and +afterwards we sate before the blazing fire, while the priest told +us of his life among the roving Indians, of their strange customs +and stranger beliefs, of their patient endurance in times of want, +of their despair when disease made its appearance in their lodges, +and of the ruin wrought among them by the white man's traffic in +strong waters. “For the Indian it is no question of French or +English; whichever conquers, he must go—nay, is passing even +now—with only such feeble hands as mine to point the way of his +going.” And there were tears in his voice as he spake. +</p> + +<p> +Before we parted for the night I asked by what name we might address +him. +</p> + +<p> +“Le père Jean,” he answered. +</p> + +<p> +“That is not difficult to remember,” I said, smiling. +</p> + +<p> +“Which is important, my daughter, for it has to serve me from Gaspé +to Michilimacinac. There is but little danger of confusion in the +names of missionaries,” he added, sadly; “the labourers are few.” +</p> + +<p> +When we left him I was glad to find that even Lucy's strict views +were not proof against his simple goodness. I had feared the very +fact of his priestly office would have prejudiced her, for I knew +her sect made little of much the older religions held sacred; but +in speaking of him afterwards she simply said: +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord is wiser than we. He knows what vessels to choose for +His service.” +</p> + +<p> +We were so tired, and there was such a sense of security in our +new keeping, that we were asleep before we knew; but during the +night I fell into a strange dream, which so distressed me that I +awoke, with tears streaming down my face. What it was, I could not +clearly gather, but with the awakening came my sorrow afresh, and +I lay staring up into the blackness with wide-open eyes. +</p> + +<p> +Presently I heard Lucy's soft whisper, “Dear heart, what is the +matter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Lucy, why are you awake?” +</p> + +<p> +“Christopher,” she answered. “I know my boy is in sore trouble on +my account, and, alas, he has not my faith to support him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lucy,” I whispered, after a pause, “I have been selfish. In my +own trouble I have not remembered yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should you, mistress?” she said, simply. “You have been good +to me, beyond what one in my condition has any right to expect. My +trouble can have no claim, when you are burdened, perhaps even +beyond your strength.” +</p> + +<p> +It was strange she should remember the difference between us at +such a time. To me, we were simply two women suffering a common +sorrow in our severance from those most dear to us, and I longed +to take her in my arms and tell her all my pain. Had she been a +mere servant, I might have done so, if only for the comfort of +crying together; but she was too near my own class, and yet not +quite of it, to permit me to take this solace. So we talked quietly +for a space, and then fell once more to sleep. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></h2> + +<p> +I AM DIRECTED INTO A NEW PATH +</p> + +<p> +The following morning, when we resumed our quiet way in the canoe, +le pére Jean asked, “Well, my daughter, did any light come to you +through the darkness?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my father, but I have found a little quiet.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is much. Now I shall ask you to listen to me patiently, for +I may say much with which you will not agree, but you will trust +me that I only say that which I know to be best. We have every +reason to believe a serious descent will be made on Louisbourg in +the spring, so that, apart from any other reason, your presence in +a town which will in all probability suffer a bombardment, would +be unwise and undesirable in the last degree. You have no idea of +what war actually means; it is a horror that would haunt you to +your dying day.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my father, in that case I should at least be by his side. +That in itself would mean everything to us both.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a point I had not intended to touch on, my daughter. I +know the world. I know that men, banished to such exile as that in +which M. de Maxwell has lived, change much with the years. Think +how you have changed yourself, in happier surroundings than he has +known. Think what new connections he may have formed. Did you never +think that he—” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my father, what would you tell me? Do you know M. de Maxwell?” +</p> + +<p> +“I have never been in Louisbourg,” he answered, somewhat coldly, +as if my earnestness had hurt him. +</p> + +<p> +“But you do not mean that he may be married?” +</p> + +<p> +“He may be. It would surely not be unnatural.” +</p> + +<p> +“It might not in another man, but in him it would be impossible. +He is not as other men.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I inquire, my daughter, if he ever asked you in marriage?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, my father; I told you how he was situate. Besides, my guardian +then wished me to marry another.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you would not?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not,” I answered, with some little hauteur, for I held this +was beside the matter, and a subject on which even he had no right +to question me. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, that can make but little difference now,” he said, after a +short pause. “What does make the difference is that Louisbourg is +an impossibility for you at the present. Your best course is to go +on to Quebec. I shall give you letters to M. de Montcalm, who is +so old and intimate a friend that I may ask him any favour. He will +see that you have passage in the first fitting vessel for France. +In order that you may not be subject to embarrassing surmises, I +hold your best plan is to continue to style yourself Mme. de St. +Just; in fact, that has now become a necessity. Once in France, +you can, with the influence at your command—for I will see that +M. de Montcalm furthers your desire—procure the recall of M. de +Maxwell in the spring, and so realise the dream which has now led +you so far astray. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not think I am blaming you overmuch,” he added, quickly; “you +have been led astray because you could not see as the world sees. +Your heart and motive were pure, were generous, but none the less +are you subject to those rules which govern so rigorously the class +to which you belong, whose very existence depends on their observance. +In a romance, the world would no doubt have wept over your +perplexities; but in real life, it would crush you, because you +have sinned against the only code it acknowledges. Your purity and +faithfulness would count for nothing. Believe me, my child, I know +it and its ways.” +</p> + +<p> +So it was decided; and at once I began to plan with new hope for +the desire of my heart; and such was the change it wrought in me +that the whole world took on a new interest to my eyes. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time I realised the grandeur of the river into which +we had now fully entered; the sullen sweep of black water in the +depths, the dance of silver over the shallows, the race of waves +down the rapids between its ever-changing banks, now like imprisoning +walls with great sombre pines, now open and radiant with the gold +and scarlet of the maples, marshalled in order by the white lances +of the slender birches. +</p> + +<p> +At times Lucy and I were allowed to walk along the reaches of level +sand to relieve the strain on the paddlers, where the river ran +swift and strong, and when we at length gained the great stretch +of the lake called Matapediac, like the river, my heart was full +of the beauty and charm about me. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,</span> + <span class="i1">Nor deep eneugh the sea,</span> + <span class="i0">Nor braid eneugh this weary warld,</span> + <span class="i1">To part my Love frae me,” ...</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +I sang in my heart, for was it not all so wonderful, so beyond all +planning, this way of Love? It might be long, it might be wearying, +but it would lead aright in the end. +</p> + +<p> +When the head of the lake was reached, the canoes were lifted from +the water; that of the strange Indians was left behind, but ours +they raised on their shoulders, and, André carrying the scanty +baggage of the priest, we set off on a long carry, or portage, as +they call it. This occupied two days, as the path was difficult, +and we found a sad encumbrance in our skirts, which suffered much +in the traverse. We took the water again at a tiny stream, and +finally gained another, called the Metis, leading to the St. +Lawrence, our highway for Quebec. At the Metis the strange Indians +left us and returned to join their fellows. +</p> + +<p> +Late one afternoon le père Jean ran the canoe inshore, and, nothing +loath, we left her in charge of André, to follow the priest up the +high bank and take our way on foot under the great pines. +</p> + +<p> +A low breeze was moving almost silently among the trees, bringing +an unwonted freshness we could verily taste. Soon we marked the +screen of undergrowth, which hid the sun, grow thinner and thinner, +until his rays came shining low through a halo of golden leaves, +with gleams like to glancing water. Breathless, we hurried on until +we swept aside the last veil and found ourselves on the open cliff, +overlooking mile beyond mile of dancing water, which the setting +sun covered with a trail of glory breaking in ripples on a beach +of golden sand, that stretched below the cliff on which we stood. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, the sea! the sea!” I cried, sinking to the ground, overwhelmed +by the flood of feeling which broke upon me. It was the promise of +a new world of light and safety, after the black, swift river and +the sombre forest from which we had escaped. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my daughter, not the sea; la Grande Rivière, the St. Lawrence!” +said le père Jean, almost reverently. “Do you wonder these poor +Indians worship it?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, it is blessed! blessed! It means home! It is like to heaven!” +I whispered, and then I fell a-crying with very happiness. +</p> + +<p> +Presently Lucy touched me on the shoulder. “See! there is André!” +And below we saw the Indian paddling out into the open. He went +cutting through the golden water until he was some distance from +the shore, when he stood upright, gently rocking as he balanced, +gazing up the river. Suddenly he crouched down, again and made all +haste towards us, crying, as he came within call: “Mon père! Dufour! +Dufour! Gabriel Dufour!” +</p> + +<p> +“This is fortunate, most fortunate,” exclaimed the priest. “It will +save us many a weary mile, and perhaps weeks of waiting. Gabriel +is a pilot, with one of the best boats on the river, and your way +to Quebec is now easy. It could not have fallen out better.” +</p> + +<p> +“'One of those disarrangements we name Accident,' mon père?” I +said. +</p> + +<p> +“No, my daughter; when we are schooled sufficiently to read aright, +we name it 'Providence,'” he returned, gravely. +</p> + +<p> +We took our places in the canoe once more, and with deep, long +strokes she was forced through the current across the mouth of the +stream. We disembarked on the farther side, and all made our way +out to the end of the low point, which stretched far into the wide +river. My disappointment was great when I could make out nothing +of the object to which André triumphantly pointed, but this the +priest pronounced, without hesitation, to be the pilot's boat. +</p> + +<p> +“André, dry wood,” he commanded; and to us he added, “You can help, +if you will.” +</p> + +<p> +We ran back to where a fringe of bleached drift-wood marked the +line of the highest tides, and returned with our arms laden with +the dry, tindery stuff. Carefully selecting the smallest pieces, +the Indian skilfully built a little pile, but so small I wondered +at his purpose. The priest, kneeling by it, soon had it alight, +and kept adding to it constantly, while André ran off again to +return with a supply of green brush; by this time a heap of glowing +coals was ready, and on this the Indian carefully laid his green +branches, one after another. In a few minutes a strong, thick smoke +arose, and went curling out in a long thin line over the now quiet +waters of the river. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime le père Jean had a second pile of wood in readiness, and +at his word André quickly smothered up the first with sand, and, +after waiting for the smoke to drift completely away, soon had a +second thread trailing out after the first. This was repeated again, +and the fire extinguished as before. +</p> + +<p> +“There, my daughter! that is the manner in which we sometimes send +a message in this country, and the answer will be the appearance +of Maître Gabriel himself by the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +We then withdrew to the shelter of the wood, for the smoothest sand +makes but a sorry bed, and made our camp for the night. +</p> + +<p> +After our meal, le père Jean bade André pile more drift-wood on +our fire, and, producing the little journal in which he kept the +brief record of his labours, as required by his Order, he fell to +writing. +</p> + +<p> +“Here,” he said, when he had finished, handing me the folded paper, +“is your letter to my good friend M. de Montcalm. It is not +over-long, as paper is much too precious to waste in compliments; +I have used so much, as it is, in fully explaining your position, +so that you may not be exposed to embarrassing inquiries; in +demanding his fullest assistance, so that you may be under the +lightest personal obligation, that I have left no space to set +forth your future movements; these you must yourself lay before +him, and so spare me the sacrifice of another page of my precious +journal.” +</p> + +<p> +The next morning, as the priest had foretold, we were awakened by +André's announcement of the pilot's arrival, and before long, +Gabriel Dufour was presented in due form. He was a stout, thick-set +man, much reddened by exposure, with his dark hair gathered into +a well-oiled pigtail, comfortably dressed in grey, home-spun jacket +and breeches, with bright blue stockings, and a short canvas apron, +like to the fishermen in France. +</p> + +<p> +He at once expressed himself ready to take us to Quebec. +</p> + +<p> +“What day have you chosen for your return, Gabriel?” asked le père +Jean. +</p> + +<p> +“Qui choisit, prend le pire, mon père. All days are alike for me. +Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, I find much the same as Thursday, +Friday, Saturday. I can start to-day, to-morrow, or the day after +that, as madame may say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shall speak for madame, and say to-day,” returned the +priest; and added, in his quiet way: “I bid you beware of Master +Gabriel's fair words, madame. To quote from his favourite proverb, +'il est né dimanche, il aime besogne faite,' he will promise you +anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“'Ce que femme veut, Dieu le veut,' mon père,” he answered, laughing. +“Well, I am ready at once, if madame can support the poverty of my +poor cabin.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Maitre Gabriel, if you knew how much your care will mean to +us, you would make no apologies.” +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Gabriel! No more proverbs, no more delays,” exclaimed +le père Jean, and, as the pilot hurried off to his shallop, he took +both my hands in his. +</p> + +<p> +“My child, remember God goes with you by land and water, by day +and night, and He will surely bring you to the goal which He alone +can see,” and then he raised his hand, and I knelt while he blessed +us both. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></h2> + +<p> +THE MARQUIS DE MONTCALM-GOZON DE ST. VÉRAN +</p> + +<p> +In Maître Gabriel I found a type I could readily understand; he +was very shrewd, very curious, with a passion for questioning, but +so honest and childlike that he took no offence at any rebuff. He +was a thorough sailor, a martinet to his little crew, vain of his +skill and boastful of his courage, and confident of the showing he +and his fellow-Canadians would make against “les goddams,” should +they venture to appear. +</p> + +<p> +He insisted on hearing the story of our capture in detail, and +seemed much more amused at the address of the Indians than distressed +at our misfortune. +</p> + +<p> +“They were good fellows, after all, madame. If it had not been for +them, you would not have fallen into the hands of le père Jean. +But, bedame! I cannot understand why he should send you to Quebec +when he knew you were bound for Louisbourg. A priest, no doubt, +knows much, but I can tell you, madame, if you came to me and +whispered 'Louisbourg,' it would not be by way of Quebec I should +send you. If you have any reason to be there, there is no time like +the present, for the English are on their way thither even now; +and if they are frightened away by our ships, they will be back in +the spring; take my word for it!” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Gabriel, le père Jean spake as if nothing was to be feared +from any attempt they might make at present.” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps not, but they may try it, all the same. They have been +in Halifax for months past, and only sailed in August. I do not +think it will come to anything myself, but by the spring all the +music will be on hand, and the dancing before Louisbourg will begin +in earnest. But pardon, madame; I forgot you had friends there, or +I would not have let my tongue run on so.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Gabriel; I wish to hear all you have learned. Why is it +impossible to go to Louisbourg?” +</p> + +<p> +“Bedame! I never said it was impossible to go to Louisbourg, madame; +mais, 'qui se tient à Paris, ne sera jamais pape,' and your face +is not in the right direction. If you would be there, madame, I +would engage to find you a way in the teeth of all 'les goddams' +who ever chewed rosbif. But I forget; we are going to Quebec,” he +ended, slyly, evidently desirous that I should talk. +</p> + +<p> +This, however, I would not do, but he had given me matter enough +to keep me awake by night and set me anxiously dreaming by day. +</p> + +<p> +Why had the priest been so determined to keep me from Louisbourg? +Now that I thought it over, I saw that I had never urged my wish +at all. I had allowed my whole purpose to be swept aside at his +first firm refusal to consider my request. And all this time Hugh +was in danger, while I had turned my back upon him. If not in +danger now, he certainly would be in the spring, and all my effort, +with those weary miles of sea again between us, would be unavailing +for his recall. Indeed, he would probably refuse to leave his post +if it were threatened by an enemy. Why had I consented? Why was I +even now lengthening the heart-breaking distance between us with +every coward mile I travelled? Why had I not pleaded with le père +Jean, instead of obeying blindly, like a child? He had not known +the real danger, perhaps, or his advice would have been different. +</p> + +<p> +Could I have spoken freely with Lucy, I might have gained some +comfort; but, alas! my lips were sealed towards her. How could I +expect her to understand even if I could speak? My distress she +would readily comprehend, but she could not possibly know anything +of such a love as Hugh's; so I was forced to take the sympathy of +her silent companionship, making her such return as I might. +</p> + +<p> +Gabriel, I grew almost afraid of; he questioned me so cunningly, +without seeming to do so, that I was in constant dread lest I should +betray my secret and declare the desire which was consuming me. It +was a relief when I could turn his curiosity and lead him to talk +of his own life and the places we passed; for the wilderness of +hills of the North Shore, to which we had crossed, was broken here +and there by settlements, as at Les Eboulements, where the tiny +church and village nestled by the water's edge at the foot of +mountains rising and rolling back to purple heights behind. We were +here shut out from the main river by the wooded shores of the Isle +aux Coudres, which Gabriel regarded with peculiar pride, as somewhere +on its farther side stood his white-washed cottage, where his wife +kept her lonely guard during his long absences, and spent sleepless +watches on wild nights in autumn, entreating the protection of St. +Joseph and Our Lady of Good Help for her man, fighting for life +somewhere on the dangerous waters. +</p> + +<p> +“She must be very strong with her prayers, ma bonne femme, for +every time I have come safe home—eh, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +It was a pleasure to me to confirm him in his belief. +</p> + +<p> +The next morning we passed the wide mouth of the Gouffre at la Baie +St. Paul, but fortunately without experiencing its formidable wind, +and early in the afternoon we saw rising before us the purple mass +of Cap Tourmente. We stood well out here to escape the strong +current; in the distance before us lay the green point of the island +of Orleans, and behind it, to the north, Gabriel pointed out the +beautifully rising slopes of the Côte de Beaupré, with the pride +of a man who is in love with his country. +</p> + +<p> +But soon his attention became fixed on a boat of better appearance +than any we had as yet seen, standing in for the main shore. +</p> + +<p> +“No fishing-boat that!” he exclaimed. “It must be some of the +officers down from Quebec.” He altered our course so that we stood +in to intercept her. His excitement grew as we approached. “I am +right,” he shouted. “She is the yacht from Quebec. I must go on +board. They will wish to hear what news I carry from below.” +</p> + +<p> +As soon as we were within a reasonable distance he made some signal +with his sail and, both boats staying their way, he launched his +shallop over the side, and quickly rowed to the stranger. We watched +him with keen interest, especially as we saw there were officers +on board. Before long he was on his way back to us, and, as soon +as he was within speaking distance, he called in the greatest +excitement: +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, madame! On board there is his Excellency, M. de Montcalm. He +wishes to see you. Pardon, madame, pardon if I say hurry. Do not +keep him waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +It was indeed a startling summons, and the last I was expecting, +but I accepted it without hesitation, and, making such slight +preparation as was possible, Gabriel helped me carefully into the +tossing boat; and put such heart into his rowing that in a few +moments we were safely alongside the yacht, and a strong hand was +held down to me. “Courage, madame! hold firmly and step slowly,” +and, as the shallop lifted, I stepped lightly on the deck, where +I was surrounded by a group of gentlemen. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame,” said one of them, bowing, “I am Monsieur de Montcalm, +and, believe me, my best endeavours are entirely at your service. +We have heard something of your adventure from our good Maître +Gabriel here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur le marquis, it is to your friend le père Jean we owe our +safety, and he has added to my obligation by commending me to your +care in this letter,” said, handing him the precious billet. +</p> + +<p> +“Any lady in your position, madame, would command my service of +right, but such a recommendation makes it obligatory; there is +little I would not do to please my friend le père Jean.” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0128-large.jpg" name="picture-0128"> + <img src="images/picture-0128-small.jpg" + alt="There is little I would not do to please le père Jean."/></a> + +<p> +As he glanced over the note, I had opportunity to observe him more +closely. I had often heard of him from Gaston in the old days, for +they had been friends from boyhood, and had done much campaigning +together in Germany and elsewhere. He looked worn, like a man who +had grown old before his time, but I could trace the likeness to +the warm-hearted, hot-headed young officer whom I had so often +pictured, in his large eyes, which had lost nothing of their youthful +fire, and in his smile, which had the charm that does not disappear +with years. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de St. Just,” he said, when he had finished reading, “I +can spare you the necessity of even asking my help, and must not +lay you under any obligation greater than this little voyage from +your boat to mine, to which you would not have been subject had I +known of your relation to my friend le père Jean. He tells me your +intention was to have gone to Louisbourg. If that be still your +desire, madame, I can at least spare you the journey to Quebec, +and can promise you an easy passage to Louisbourg as soon as the +snow makes good travelling, for, in Canada, summer is no time for +a long journey across country. But let us be seated and talk this +matter over quietly,” and he waved his hand towards the stern of +the yacht, where some of the officers hastened to arrange their +cloaks into comfortable seats. +</p> + +<p> +My heart was in the strangest commotion as I saw the drift of +circumstance that was sweeping me onward, without effort on my +part, towards the end I most desired; I had not spoken, and here +was the arbiter of my fate putting into words all that I dared not +ask. I resolved not even to think, but to leave the issue in his +hands. +</p> + +<p> +“Had you ever met le père Jean before, madame?” he resumed. +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur. How could I? But I cannot help feeling I have met +you. I was wont to hear your name very often when a young girl?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed? And to whom did I owe that favour?” +</p> + +<p> +“To your friend, the Vicomte de Trincardel.” +</p> + +<p> +He stared at me as if in great amazement, and when he spake his +tone was that of a man deeply puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +“You know the Vicomte de Trincardel?” +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly, monsieur—that is, I did know him. He was a frequent +visitor at my guardian's both in Paris and London,” and then I +stupidly fell to blushing like a school-girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Strange, very strange,” he muttered, in an absent manner. +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur, not strange,” I answered, for I could not bear he +should misunderstand; “my family name is Nairn, and my guardian +was the late Lady Jane Drummond.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, pardon me, madame; it was only the odd chance of my meeting +with you that I marvelled at. But it is a narrow world, after all, +for a few years ago, when in Italy, I heard of your brother from +the Cardinal York: he spake of him in terms of the warmest affection.” +</p> + +<p> +“Hélas! monsieur, my brother is dead to me. He has deserted the +cause to which I and mine have been faithful; he now holds a +commission in the English army.” +</p> + +<p> +“Again I must ask for pardon; but to come back to your plans. Now +as to Louisbourg, there is no danger, madame, either on the journey +or when you reach there, provided you leave again before spring. +You can be safely back in Quebec before the snows go, and on your +way to France by the first ship, long ere any serious danger +threatens. I am taking for granted, however, that you will hardly +choose to remain in this enchanting colony longer than may be +necessary. Would it meet your wish, if you were to return by the +spring?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, perfectly, perfectly, monsieur!” I exclaimed, overjoyed to +answer a question which presented no difficulties and opened out +a way before me. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, madame, I would recommend the following plan: instead of +going on to Quebec, by which you will lose little, save a glimpse +at a society which is not without its charm, you should go back +across the river and down as far as Beaulieu, where you will find +Mme. de Sarennes and her charming daughter Angélique. I shall give +you letters which will ensure you a welcome and a shelter for such +time as you may have to remain under her care. Her son Charles, +who is a noted figure in the colony, will be up and down between +Louisbourg and Quebec during the winter, and I will see that he +takes charge of you and conducts you safely on your journey. +</p> + +<p> +“And now, madame, it is very probable that you are but ill supplied +with money, if indeed you have any. Pardon my frankness, but I am +old enough to be your father, and I know the awkwardness of such +a position. If I be correct, I am sure you will not deny me the +pleasure of helping you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, your kindness needs no excuse; but, with a thousand +thanks, let me assure you I am well, even abundantly supplied, as +I had nearly all my money sewn in my clothes before leaving, and +I do not foresee any want of that kind, even though my stay be +longer than now appears probable. But I shall be most grateful for +your letter to Mme. de Sarennes, and it shall be my endeavour not +to prove a burthen on her hospitality.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Bougainville,” he said, beckoning to one of his officers, +“will you come and tell Mme. de St. Just something of this charming +country, while I write some letters?” So saying, he introduced his +aide to me, and stepped into the cabin, leaving me to the amusing +society of his officers. The moments passed quickly until the +Marquis reappeared bearing two letters. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not disappear, gentlemen, unless it be to seek a glass of wine +in which to wish madame 'bon voyage.' +</p> + +<p> +“This, madame,” he said, handing me one of the letters, “is to Mme. +de Sarennes; but with it I have taken care to enclose that of le +père Jean, for our good Canadians, as you will find, attach more +value to the simple word of a priest—and in this instance I will +not say they are wrong—than to the command of any lay authority. +His letter will spare you all explanations with the mother, and +this other will serve as an order for that gallant coureur de bois, +her son, when he puts in an appearance, in the event of his visiting +Beaulieu before I see him in Quebec. Let me assure you, further, +that you have only to command my services, should you need them, +either before or after you may reach Louisbourg. The Chevalier de +Drucour, I am persuaded, will be only too ready to do me a service, +should I ask it either on my behalf or on that of another. I shall +esteem it, if you will consider yourself as under my protection.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, monsieur, what claim have I to all this kindness?” I asked, +overwhelmed at the possibilities I saw before me. +</p> + +<p> +“You are the friend of my friend; I would do anything for his sake,” +he answered, simply, disdaining any of those compliments which +would so readily suggest themselves to a man of less nice breeding. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry we cannot offer you any fitting hospitality here,” he +said, as he rose. Then, turning towards the others, he added: +“Gentlemen, I am apologising for our scanty larder, which prevents +our detaining Mme. de St. Just for supper. M. de Bougainville, as +a mathematician, might have seen to a less exact but more generous +provision.” +</p> + +<p> +“His head was among the stars,” explained a jovial-looking officer, +in a rueful tone, “and we less-exalted mortals are the losers, +alas!” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely we have somewhat to drink to the success of madame's +journey?” said M. de Montcalm, in mock alarm. +</p> + +<p> +“Assuredly, mon général! I at least was not star-gazing when I laid +in the Bordeaux. I can even provide a glass of Frontignan for +madame,” responded a little bright-eyed officer. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Joannès!” laughed the general. “Frontignan! That brings +back the whole South, madame; its very name makes me homesick. +Homesickness makes us all young, makes us all little children again. +Ma foi! I believe that is why the Spaniard pretended the Fountain +of Youth was to be found in the New World. I defy any one to remain +here and not have perpetual youth, if my theory be correct.” +</p> + +<p> +“But at least madame did not come to seek it,” responded M. de +Bougainville, gallantly, “and we are keeping her standing.” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon they touched my glass, in order, each with a prettily +turned wish for my good fortunes, and I tasted the sweet wine of +Frontignan in return to the toast they drank together. No wishes +could have been more welcome, and the little friendly ceremony +meant much to me; indeed my heart was very full when M. de Montcalm +bent over and kissed my hand as he helped me into the shallop and +we pulled off into the dusk. Did I need anything further to set my +uneasy mind at rest, I found it in the quiet words of Lucy when I +told her of the outcome of my visit. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear mistress,” she exclaimed, in a voice full of feeling, +“He hath made our path straight to our feet!” +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></h2> + +<p> +AT BEAULIEU +</p> + +<p> +Gabriel altered his course with the satisfaction of a man confirmed +in his superior judgment. “'II y a remède à tout, fors à la mort,' +madame, and this has come at the last hour,” he cried, in great +satisfaction. “I suppose le père Jean would say you were going to +Louisbourg all the time, only it would look to an ordinary sinner +like a precious long way round,” and he chuckled at his jest as he +bustled about, filling every one with somewhat of his brimming +content. +</p> + +<p> +Favoured by the tide and a strong wind, we made a good run during +the night, and when we awoke we were again coasting along the +peaceful reaches of the South Shore with its frequent settlements +and clearings—a pleasant change after the wilderness of the North. +</p> + +<p> +Early in the afternoon, Gabriel pointed to a long point stretching +out into the river. +</p> + +<p> +“That is the Beacon Point of Beaulieu, madame. A beacon is piled +there, ready for firing, winter and summer. The entrance to the +river is just on this side, and on the other is the great bay where +the porpoise fishery takes place. The manor cannot be seen from +the river; it is safe and snug from the storms, a little inland.” +</p> + +<p> +Before long we entered the mouth of the little river, to the right +of which stretched a broad expanse of tidal meadow, dotted with +small platforms, each supporting its load of coarse salt hay, safe +above the reach of the highest tides; to the left was the dense +pine wood covering the Beacon Point. Fields and woods wore the +sombre colours, the browns and purples of autumn, though here and +there a sturdy maple still hung out its banner of yellow or red, +lighting up the dark greens of the unchanging pines. As we advanced, +the windings of the river disclosed stretches of bare meadow and +empty fields, for the harvest had long been gathered. The whole +was set in a background of low, purple hills. But soon we caught +a new interest, as a windmill, and then a long wooden house, having +a high-pitched roof, broken by a row of pointed dormer-windows, +with a detached tower at each end, came into view. +</p> + +<p> +“There, madame, that is the manor!” Gabriel announced with evident +pride, to which I made suitable return, for despite its humble +form, like a substantial farm-house, its great length and the two +towers gave to it an appearance which removed it out of the common. +</p> + +<p> +Our boat was made fast to a little landing-place, and we disembarked; +but, to my surprise, no one appeared to welcome or to question us. +Gabriel led the way up to the house through a garden, which must +have been a model of neatness in summer-time, but was now stripped +and blackened by the early frosts. Though the door of the house +stood hospitably open to us, no answer came to our echoing knock. +</p> + +<p> +Going round to the back proved equally fruitless, but I espied two +women working in a field at a short distance, and, bidding Gabriel +await me, I took my way towards them. I found them engaged with +spade and fork digging up reddish-looking roots, which they piled +in little heaps. +</p> + +<p> +“I bring letters to Mme. de Sarennes,” I said, addressing the +younger woman, who seemed confused, but whose face I could barely +see for the great bonnet which covered her head like a cowl, “but +I find no one in the house. Can you tell me what to do?” +</p> + +<p> +“If madame will return and find a seat in the house, I shall bring +some one,” she answered, prettily enough, and, dropping her fork, +she ran towards the house. +</p> + +<p> +“What are those things you are digging up?” I asked the elder woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Potatoes, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“But do the people eat them?” I inquired, for I knew they were not +used in France. +</p> + +<p> +“'Only the Bostonnais and cattle,' we used to say, madame, but now +the Intendant has ordered them to be planted and eaten by all.” +</p> + +<p> +“And they will obey?” +</p> + +<p> +“'Le miel n'est pas pour les ânes,' madame; those who do not, will +go hungry,” she answered, laughing. +</p> + +<p> +I was interested in the news, as well as in the calm philosophy +with which the innovation was accepted, and after a few more +questions I returned to the front of the house. +</p> + +<p> +The room into which the entrance gave—for it was more of a room +than a hall—was large and low, with a ceiling painted white, +supported by heavy beams; it was carpeted and furnished with much +comfort—much more than one would find in a similar house either +in Scotland or France. +</p> + +<p> +In a short time a young lady entered, her dark olive face well set +off by her brown hair, becomingly though simply dressed, with a +light girlish figure showing to advantage in her flowered gown. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Mlle. de Sarennes, madame, and I regret that you should have +been kept waiting.” She began gravely enough, but catching some +wonderment in my face, she continued, laughing merrily: “Oh, 'tis +of no use; I can never masquerade! I am Queen of the Fields, madame, +and you surprised me a moment ago, sceptre in hand,” whereupon she +made me a grand courtesy, nearly sinking to the floor. +</p> + +<p> +“And I am Mme. de St. Just,” I answered, joining in her girlish +fun, “a poor rescued prisoner seeking for shelter; and this is my +waiting-woman and very good friend, Lucy Routh. I come to you with +letters from M. de Montcalm, trusting our presence may not prove +a burthen to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“But here is my mother,” said the young girl, quickly. “Not a word +to her of how you discovered me; she will never acknowledge that +such a thing as field-work is necessary, though there is not a man +left to share it, except myself. We hide it from her as we would +a sin.” +</p> + +<p> +At the words a gray-haired lady supporting herself on a cane entered. +In a few moments all explanations were made, and I received from +her a welcome scarcely less warm than that of her daughter, but +with the difference, that it was only given after she had carefully +read the letter of the Marquis de Montcalm and its enclosure. +</p> + +<p> +“Your own presence would command my hospitality in any case, madame; +but these letters, and especially that of le père Jean, change a +duty into a pleasure; it is much to have gained the friendship of +such a man. I fear, though, you will have to put up with our poor +company for some time, as my son has but left for his post in +Acadie, and I do not look for his return until the snows come; but +we will do all we can to make you happy until such time as you can +leave to join your friends.” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0136-large.jpg" name="picture-0136"> + <img src="images/picture-0136-small.jpg" + alt="These letters change a duty into a pleasure."/></a> + +<p> +Nothing could be more charming than her address, even though it +bore a trace of condescendence; but that was merely the reflection +of an older school of manners, to which I had been well accustomed +in Lady Jane. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as we had settled these matters, I agreed with Gabriel that +he should go on to Quebec, there to obtain some necessaries of +which I stood in much need, as did poor Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +“You do not expect to find shops there, surely!” laughed mademoiselle. +“But my friend Mme, de Lanaudière will gladly undertake the buying +of the material, and we will make such shift for the fitting as is +possible here.” +</p> + +<p> +So we were installed as guests, and on the morrow Gabriel was +despatched on his important errand; before he returned we had taken +our places as members of the little household. +</p> + +<p> +Mlle. de Sarennes—Angélique, as she insisted on my calling her—would +not consent to my helping in the fields, so Lucy and I took charge +in the house, where Lucy did marvels in the kitchen, even to +eliciting approbation from Mme. de Sarennes, which Angélique assured +us was praise indeed, for her mother was a housekeeper of the school +which did not acknowledge that excellence of performance called +for anything beyond a refraining from criticism. How could I be +other than content? I was surrounded by a daily round of interest, +almost of affection, and, most precious of all, by a gentle courtesy +which accepted me as a guest without question or curiosity as to +my past. Le père Jean had answered for me, and that was enough. +</p> + +<p> +When Gabriel returned I paid him for his services, though it was +only when I had assured the honest fellow I was amply able to do +so that he consented to receive anything from me. When he was +leaving me he charged me with great earnestness: +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, should you need me at any time, either by day or night, +all you have to do is to light the beacon. If by night, let it +burn brightly; if by day, do as you saw le père Jean, and go on +repeating it, until you see the answering smoke from the Island, +or my sail.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, my good Gabriel, I am not likely to trouble you, as when I +go from here it will be by land, and in a different direction.” +</p> + +<p> +“'Qui dit averti, dit muni,' madame; no one can tell what may +happen, and it may do no harm to know you have one near at hand +who would be proud if you called on him for help.” +</p> + +<p> +I was greatly touched by his thoughtfulness, a frank offer coming +direct from the heart of a brave man to a woman whom he fears may +some day be in need of his service. +</p> + +<p> +“Gabriel, is every one kind in Canada? I do not know why I should +meet with such care.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are all saints, no doubt, madame; but that is not the reason!” +he returned, gaily, and set off for his boat. +</p> + +<p> +After his departure our life together went on without interruption. +By the end of November the whole country was covered with snow, +which we hailed with delight, for it meant the speedy arrival of +M. de Sarennes, and then—Louisbourg! I had often seen snow as a +child at home in Scotland, but there it meant storm and desolation, +and, alas! only too frequently suffering and death to man and beast; +while here it came as a beauty and a blessing, welcomed by all. +Angélique took us over miles of snow-covered fields and through +woods that had a charm of softness unknown in summer-time, until +we could manage our snow-shoes without mishap. +</p> + +<p> +“You must harden your muscles and exercise your lungs for the +journey you have before you,” she declared, “and not shame my +training when you take the high-road with Charles.” +</p> + +<p> +Like her mother, she was never tired of talking of M. de Sarennes. +He was their only pride, and never was son or brother more precious +than was their Charles to them, so I looked forward with keen +satisfaction to the day I should start under his care. +</p> + +<p> +They hoped for him by the New-Year, and we all busied ourselves in +preparation for the little feast which we agreed should be delayed, +if necessary, to welcome his return. +</p> + +<p> +On the last night of the year we sate together about the fire, +Angélique laughing and chattering incessantly; her mother sitting +with her spinning-wheel, her wedding-gift from the Marquis de +Beauharnois—a dainty construction of mahogany tipped with ivory +and silver—whirring peacefully, as with skilful fingers she guided +the fine flax from her spindle; Lucy at a little distance knitting +methodically; and I expectant, excited by Angélique's unrest. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, Marguerite, what a shame Charles must tack on that odious +'madame,' every time he addresses you!” exclaimed Angélique, merrily. +“Had I my way, I'd banish the 'madame,' as I would banish every +one who has a claim on you, and keep you all for our very own. What +nonsense! to have other people in the world when we want you so +much! Stay with us! I'll marry you myself; I'm sure I'm worth all +the men in the world put together!” +</p> + +<p> +“Be sensible, my daughter! be sensible,” interrupted Mme. de +Sarennes, in her unruffled voice. “I cannot think how you find such +nonsense amusing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, maman, be fair! Do you know any man in the whole world, except +Charles, you like better than me? There! There! I told you! And my +mother has the very best taste in the world—eh, 'Mademoiselle' +Marguerite?” And the madcap jumped up, and running over to her +mother, embraced her in spite of her remonstrances. +</p> + +<p> +In the midst of this turmoil a soft knock was heard, and we all +sprang to our feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in! Come in!” called Angélique, running to the door; but it +opened before she could reach it, and there, in the bright light, +stood an Indian holding his snow-shoes in his hand. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as I saw him I could not repress a cry of terror, for he +was the very chief from whom le père Jean had rescued me. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be alarmed, Marguerite. He is Luntook, my son's man. He +always brings word of my son's return.” +</p> + +<p> +The Indian explained to Angélique, in his broken French, that his +master had but sent him to announce his coming, and paid not the +slightest attention either to Lucy or myself. As soon as he had +answered Angélique's eager questionings, he took himself off again, +and we began our preparations. +</p> + +<p> +“He will be here in an hour!” sang Angélique, as she danced about +the room like a mad thing. Fresh wood was piled on the fire; the +table was set with the best linen and silver, and loaded with every +delicacy we had prepared; candles were placed in each window, of +which the heavy wooden shutters were thrown back, and soon the +whole house was a blaze of light. +</p> + +<p> +Into all this entered the long-expected guest, who, after tenderly +embracing his mother, was caught in a whirl of kisses and questionings +showered on him by Angélique. Suddenly she released him, crying: +“But stop, Charles! you make me forget myself. Here is Mme. de St. +Just, for whose sake, most of all, we have been waiting for you.” +</p> + +<p> +While I acknowledged his salutation, Angélique rattled on: “She +has waited for you all this time to take her to Louisbourg, she +and her waiting-woman. Where is Lucie? Oh, she has gone—frightened +by the Indian, no doubt. She—I mean Marguerite—is so glad you +have come. When do you go back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not to-night, at all events, ma belle. I'm sure even madame would +not ask that. In any case not until I've tasted some of these good +things. We can boast no such table at Miré.” +</p> + +<p> +With much laughter we gradually settled down. When M. de Sarennes +had doffed his outer wrappings and appeared in a close-fitting suit +of some dark blue stuff, I thought I had seldom seen a handsomer +type of man, and did not wonder at the pride his womenkind displayed. +He was very tall, had a dark olive face like his sister, great +flashing eyes, and black hair that rolled handsomely off his +well-shaped forehead; and I could easily imagine that more usual +clothing would transform him into a prince among his fellows. +</p> + +<p> +Before taking his place at table he left us for a little to see +after his men, who were provided for in the kitchen. When he +returned, he said: +</p> + +<p> +“Luntook, my Indian, tells me that it was he who carried you off, +madame. He had taken you for English women, and even now can scarce +be persuaded he was mistaken, though he gave you up to le père +Jean.” +</p> + +<p> +“We are English women, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you would go to Louisbourg?” he asked, I thought sharply, with +a flash of his great eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur,” I said, quietly. +</p> + +<p> +But he said nothing further, beyond assuring me that the Indian +was thoroughly trustworthy, and I need be in no fear of him. +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon we sate down to table, and as her brother ate, Angélique +related to him our story, or, rather, a merry burlesque of our +adventures, at which he laughed heartily. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, I have news for your waiting-woman, at least; though +why she should run away when she must be dying to hear it, is more +than I can imagine. Tell her that her son arrived safely at +Louisbourg, where he was soon a hot favourite with every one in +the garrison, and most of all with the Chevalier de Maxwell.” Here +he paused to raise his glass, looking hard at me the while. To my +distress, the tell-tale blood leaped to my face at the unexpected +mention of that dear name. “Being a stirring lad and much attached +to me,” he continued, without apparently noticing my confusion, +“he begged to be allowed to join me on an expedition. We were +surprised by the English, and he was slightly wounded—oh, nothing, +I assure you, madame, a mere scratch!—and carried off a prisoner, +but no doubt is even now as great a favourite with them as he was +with us. Should they come to look us up in the spring, I doubt not +he will be found in their ranks. At all events, he is with his +friends, and is safe.” +</p> + +<p> +So rejoiced was I to hear this news for Lucy's sake, that I excused +myself and withdrew to my room, where I found the dear, patient +soul on her knees, awaiting whatever tidings I might bring. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear mistress,” she said, quietly, when I had told her all, +“I have prayed and hoped, but at times my poor faith would almost +fail me; and even now, when trembling at what I might have to bear, +His message comes, that all is well with the child.” +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></h2> + +<p> +I FIND MYSELF IN A FALSE POSITION +</p> + +<p> +The rest of the week passed quickly, in one sense, though every +hour of it dragged for me. I was burning with impatience to hear +M. de Sarennes speak some word of his intended departure, and yet +could not bring myself to put the ungracious question, when I saw +the dear pleasure his stay meant to his mother. Never had I seen +more tender, respectful attention than that with which he surrounded +her. He would sit by her for hours listening to her tales of his +father, or relating his own adventures and successes against the +English. +</p> + +<p> +“Have a care, my son,” she would say, with an anxiety, not unmixed +with pride; “they will not forget these things. They may try to +work us evil for them some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“No fear, ma mère! not while I am by to defend you,” he would +answer, with a protecting love that redeemed his confidence from +bravado. +</p> + +<p> +He accompanied Angélique and me on all our walks, explaining to us +the simpler mysteries of his wonderful woodcraft, and keenly enjoying +our ready admiration. But my mind was uneasy. With the assuredness +of a man accustomed to facile conquest, he pressed his attentions +upon me in a manner to which I was unaccustomed, greatly to my +embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +No woman of my day could, in ordinary circumstances, be at a loss +to interpret any attentions she might receive. In our world, +gallantry was a science well understood; as exact as war, its every +move had its meaning; its rules were rigidly defined, and no one +ever thought of transgressing them; so there reigned a freedom +which made society a pleasure, and the intercourse with men was +exactly what one chose it should be. +</p> + +<p> +But now, I was brought face to face with a man who, whatever might +be his birth, had neither breeding nor education; who was accustomed +to see his desire and attain it, if possible; who could not understand +that freedom was a compliment to his quality, not an acknowledgment +of his personality; and who, in consequence, misinterpreted mere +courtesies in a sense humiliating to the bestower. +</p> + +<p> +Our life was necessarily so intimate, my need of his good-will so +great, and my regard for his mother and sister so warm, that I was +bound to conceal my annoyance; but at length he forced me to a +declaration, when, hoping that frankness might avail me better than +evasion, I spake so plainly that I left him in no doubt as to the +manner in which I received his attentions. He resented it with all +the bitterness of a man unaccustomed to rebuke, and my heart failed +me as I thought of the weeks I must pass in his company. +</p> + +<p> +This made me the more anxious to push matters to a conclusion, and +my opportunity came one afternoon, when Angélique snapped the end +of her snow-shoe, and was forced to return, leaving us to finish +our walk together. +</p> + +<p> +We moved on in silence for some time before I could summon up +courage to venture the question on which I felt so much depended. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you decided on your return to Louisbourg, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must first go to Quebec and report to M. de Montcalm,” he began, +in an ordinary voice, and then, to my surprise, he suddenly broke +into invective. “We have a new order here now; everything must be +reported in a quarter where nothing is known of the needs of the +country, or the character of the service. If those idiots in Paris +would only mind matters in their own country and leave Canada to +those who know it best, if they would send us troops and not +generals, if they would send us money and not priests, we should +do better. What can you expect of men who think of nothing but +parade and their own precious dignity? Who never speak of a Canadian +but with derision? But I forgot. Madame is too recently from Paris +herself to take an interest in such matters; to her, doubtless, we +are all 'colonists,' and M. de Montcalm is Pope and King.” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped and faced me at his last words, and though not unprepared +for some outburst, I was appalled at the fierceness of his tone +and the bitterness he threw into his charge. Before I could reply, +he went on: +</p> + +<p> +“My sister has handed me the orders which M. le Marquis de Montcalm +et de St. Véran, has been pleased to lay on my mother and myself +concerning you, but she tells me nothing of your friends in +Louisbourg. May I ask whom you would join there?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Sarennes, your mother and sister have treated me with a +consideration beyond words. They have subjected me to no questionings, +to no inquiries, beyond what I have chosen to reveal myself, and +surely I can look for the same courtesy from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“O, madame, madame—I am no courtier from Versailles. Your M. de +Montcalm will probably tell you I am a mere 'coureur de bois,' and, +if that be the case, you must lay it to my condition if I ask again: +Who is it you go to meet in Louisbourg? Is it, by chance, Mme. de +St. Julhien?” +</p> + +<p> +I remembered the Chevalier de St. Julhien was Hugh's colonel, and +eagerly caught at the opening, for I had begun to be seriously +frightened. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, monsieur, since you must know, it is Mme. de St. Julhien.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, ho! ho! Nom de Ciel! But that is a good one!” He roared like +a peasant, and I almost screamed in terror. “That is a good one! +I have been in and out of Louisbourg for the last ten years and +more, and I have yet to hear of a Mme. de St. Julhien. Come, come, +ma belle! I'll wager my head you are no more Mme. de St. Just, than +I am. You have been playing a pretty comedy to these simple +spectators, who were too scrupulous to venture a question. It took +the barbarous coureur de bois to see through the paint! There! +There! Don't look so frightened. I can guess, readily enough, what +brings a pretty woman to the walls of a garrison town.” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, the shame, the miserable shame and degradation which overwhelmed +me at the brutal insinuations of this well-born clown! And, to +crown it all, he stepped close beside me, and before I had a +suspicion of his intent, he threw his arms about my waist and kissed +me. +</p> + +<p> +“You wretch! you cowardly hound!” I cried, beside myself at this +last insult. “How dare you treat me thus? I will appeal to M. de +Montcalm, and you shall rue this day beyond any you have ever lived. +I will appeal to your mother—” +</p> + +<p> +“O, là, là, là, my charming little Mme. Je-Ne-Sais-Quoi, you can +complain to M. de Montcalm when you see him. As for my mother, I +hardly imagine you will dare to tell her anything which will not +excuse my action. But come, madame, we are not getting on with +our conversation at all. Believe me, I am not a bad fellow at +bottom. Tell me who it is you are really going to meet in Louisbourg, +and we shall see if it be not possible to further your plans.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go, M. de Sarennes, let me go!” I implored. +</p> + +<p> +“Now, madame, let us talk sensibly. Consider how awkward it may be +if I have to pursue these inquiries before others. In any event, +I can guess fairly well. Let us see: Madame is an Englishwoman; +is well born, wealthy, and, if she will not resent my saying so, +is of a certain age. Good! Monsieur is an Englishman; well born, +poor, and also of a suitable age. Good! Monsieur is unfortunate in +his present position; is practically in exile. Madame comes overseas +alone, save for a chance waiting-woman she picks up. Why? Surely +not for the delights of travel. Monsieur's name is Le Chevalier +Maxwell de Kirkconnel. Madame's name is—Ma foi! I haven't the +slightest idea what it is. There! madame, have I not drawn the +outline of the comedy cleverly enough, for a mere coureur de bois, +a mere Canadian?” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me go, monsieur, let me go!” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me first, are you not Madame de Maxwell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, yes,” I cried, in desperation, eager to seize any chance of +escape. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, madame, believe me, you were very foolish not to say so at +once. I guessed it the very first night I saw you. Now I know the +Chevalier intimately; in fact, I am under obligation to him for +much good advice; but I will confess he has never seen fit to impart +to me the fact of his marriage, which will be a surprise to many.” +</p> + +<p> +“O, monsieur, I beg of you that you will never mention it,” I cried, +in an agony of shame and self-reproach. +</p> + +<p> +“Never, madame; believe me, it was too disappointing a piece of +news in my own case, for me to have any desire to place others in +the like unhappy position. But allow me first to apologise for +frightening you; pardon me that I cannot look upon it as an insult; +and now that I have made the amende honorable, I will go back and +answer your first question. I shall start for Quebec in two days; +I shall be back in a week, and then leave for Louisbourg at once, +if you feel you can trust yourself with me.” +</p> + +<p> +I was so completely in his power that I mastered up all my courage, +and replied, bravely enough: “M. de Sarennes, I cannot but believe +I am safe in the charge of one whom I know as so loving a son, so +fond a brother. I trust you, too, as the friend of M. de Maxwell; +and I trust you, most of all, because you have learned my secret, +and, being a gentleman, I believe you will not betray it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don't know how far I accept the compliment, but at all events, +madame, I shall say nothing of your affairs. Remember, though, it +rests chiefly with you to prevent suspicion. You must keep the same +free intercourse with me, and never allow my mother or sister to +gather by word, or sign, that the nature of our conference to-day +has been otherwise than pleasant. Now that we have come to an +understanding, no doubt some news of Louisbourg will be welcome.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spake we turned back towards the manor; his whole bearing so +changed in a moment that it was hard to believe the bright, +pleasant-spoken man by my side was the same creature of rough, +brutal instincts and feelings who had tortured and alarmed me so +cruelly. Little by little I recovered my composure, as he told of +the life in the fortress, of the probable investment by the English +in the spring—if they could then muster a sufficient fleet—of M. +de Drucour, of M. Prévost, and, best of all, of Hugh, though he +tried to disturb my peace by hinting at some understanding between +him and Madame Prévost. +</p> + +<p> +“It all depends on you now, madame,” he said, significantly, as he +held the door open for me to enter, and fortunately I had firmness +enough to control myself through the long evening and until I could +gain my room. +</p> + +<p> +There I broke down utterly, as I knelt beside my bed, unable to +rise, or to control the sobs which shook my whole body. +</p> + +<p> +Lucy was beside me in a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Dear heart! Dear heart! Let me help you,” she murmured, raising +me to my feet, and beginning to undress me like a child, crooning +over me and quieting me with tender touches and gentle words. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Lucy, speak to me, say something to comfort me. I am the most +unhappy woman alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dear, dear mistress, no one can be so unhappy that our Father +cannot comfort her. This is the time of all others when He is +nearest to you. You have but to stretch forth your hand to touch +His robe; you have but to open your heart to have Him come in and +fill it with the Peace which passeth understanding. I am an ignorant +woman, but I have this knowledge. I went through a sorrow, and what +I believed to be a disgrace, helpless and alone, and knew of no +comfort till He sent me His. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know your sorrow, I might not understand it if you told +me, but beside this bed is standing One who knew what it was to be +alone more than any other, and He is saying to you, 'Come, and I +will give you rest.'” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear Lucy, you are such a comfort to me. I do not understand these +things in the way you do. I have never heard them so spoken of; +but oh! I feel so safe while you speak!” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, mistress, I will sing to you”—and she sang her sweet songs +of comfort in trouble, of deliverance in danger, of love awaiting +us, until my sorrow was stilled and I fell asleep. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Sarennes kept his word in so far as further annoyance was +concerned, but he displayed a familiarity towards me which called +forth laughing comments from Angélique, and kept me constantly on +the rack. At the end of the week he left on his mission to Quebec, +promising to return within ten days, and charging us to prepare +for our long journey. +</p> + +<p> +I was at my wits' end to know what to do. I could not refuse to go +with him, no matter what my distrust. I could not make any +explanation to his mother or sister which would not expose me to +a position I shuddered even to contemplate. Would Charles, their +idol, behave towards any woman worthy of respect as he had behaved +to me? I was completely in his power; no matter what he had done +or might do, he had but to appear and say, “Come!” and I must +follow, no matter how my heart might fail me. +</p> + +<p> +All too late I realised what I had brought upon myself by my cowardly +evasion of le père Jean's commands. I had deceived myself, or +rather, I had pretended to be led by outward chance, instead of +honestly following our compact, and now, I was reaping my reward. +That this man was in love with me I could not doubt, but it was a +love that made me sick to my very soul when I thought of it. Yet, +he was a gentleman, by birth at least; he was answerable to the +Marquis for my safe-keeping; and no matter what uneasiness or +unquiet I might suffer on the journey, he would not dare to offer +me any indignity with Lucy by me and Hugh awaiting me at its end. +</p> + +<p> +With this I was forced to be content, and busied myself with +Angélique and Lucy in our preparations. Angélique chattered merrily, +regretting she could not take the journey with us; her brother knew +the woods as others knew the town; he could tell every track, +whether of bird or beast; he was so cunning that no storm surprised +him, and so tender he would care for us like children. +</p> + +<p> +“No one is so good to women as Charles! He never gets out of patience +with me or maman. Let me tell you, you are a lucky girl, +'Mademoiselle' Marguerite, to have such a beau cavalier for your +escort. Really, I am jealous of your opportunity; my brother is +nearly as fine a man as I am, and I am sure any woman would be +proud of my attentions.” Thus she ran on, while I listened, heart-sick +at the thought of being in the power of that brother, whom I knew +far, far better than she. +</p> + +<p> +But my fortitude was not put to any test, for, on the very evening +of M. de Sarennes's return, Lucy fell ill of some violent fever, +and by the morning it was clear that our departure was an +impossibility. +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, madame,” said M. de Sarennes, evidently not ill pleased; +“I can as well go to my post at Miramichi. I have business there +which will detain me about a month; no doubt by that time you will +be ready to start.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you take a letter for Louisbourg?” I asked. +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. “You are like all Paris-bred folk, madame! Miramichi +is a good hundred leagues from Louisbourg as the crow flies, and +more than twice that as a man can travel. No, no, madame! You must +keep your letter until you can deliver it in person.” +</p> + +<p> +He made a pretence of laughing heartily at my discomfiture, and +Angélique innocently joined in, thinking the jest to be my ignorance +of the country, while my heart was bursting with indignation that +he should thus make a mock of my helplessness, for he knew well +what it meant to me that Hugh should be ignorant of my whereabouts. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h2> + +<p> +I AM RESCUED FROM A GREAT DANGER +</p> + +<p> +Lucy's illness proved so serious that all thought of Louisbourg +had to be abandoned during the long weeks she lay between life and +death. Now it was that I realised the full dreariness of winter. +The snow-covered fields and woods had a stillness and emptiness +that weighed upon me; my eyes grew weary of the dead whiteness; +and that the earth should again be green, and warm, and living, +seemed to call for something little short of a miracle. By the +water-side it was worse: the drift-ice was piled along the shore +in the wildest confusion, magnified and distorted by great banks +and fantastic wreaths of snow. Beyond this was the black, open +water, bearing the floating ice backward and forward with the +changing tides, never at rest, grinding ceaselessly against the +frozen barrier between it and the shore, and heralding a coming +change of weather with strange, hollow explosions and moanings. +The shortness of the days, the desolation of the sweeping storms +which imprisoned us, the unbroken isolation, and the disappointment +of long delay told heavily on my spirits, which might have failed +me had it not been for the constant care demanded by Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +Before she gained strength to be about once more, the feeling of +spring was in the air, crows were calling to one another, here and +there a rounded hill-top showed a dun, sodden patch under the +strengthening sun, and a trickling and gurgling told that, underneath +the snow, the waters were gathering to free the rivers and send +their burthen of ice sweeping into the St. Lawrence. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Sarennes had come and gone with promises of return. He won +my gratitude by his forbearance to me as well as by his unlooked-for +gentleness towards poor Lucy, whose heart he filled with admiration +by kindly words of her boy, and assurances of his safety. +</p> + +<p> +She, poor thing, had not recovered her full mental condition with +her strength, and was possessed of an idea that Christopher was at +Quebec, and that she should be on her way there to meet him. This +idea I did my utmost to dissipate, but M. de Sarennes, possibly to +quiet or please her, had let fall something which she had taken as +an assurance that the English troops were there, and her son with +them, and however successfully I might persuade her at the moment +of the truth, she would as regularly come back to her delusion when +alone. +</p> + +<p> +Distressing as this was as an indication of her condition, it was +the more disturbing to me as it was the last blow to my hopes for +Louisbourg. It would be sheer madness to trust myself to M. de +Sarennes without her protection; a protection which had vanished +now, in the complete ascendency he had gained over her by his ready +acquiescence in her imaginings, and I could not but feel he was +skilfully withdrawing her affections from me. +</p> + +<p> +However, he was called away to his post so suddenly that I was +spared the difficulty of a decision, and I had almost determined +that I would go on to Quebec and place myself under the care of M. +de Montcalm, when, towards the end of May, he returned, unexpected +by any of us, even by his mother, who, it was patent, was much +disturbed; but her unwavering belief in his superior judgment kept +her silent. “He is my son, and knows his duty better than we,” was +her only reply to Angélique's questionings at any time, and it did +not fail her now. It was touching to mark her effort to carry things +off, to cover his preoccupation, and, distraught though he was, he +remitted nothing of his attentions towards her, and so each comforted +and shielded the other. I felt like an intruder, and when Angélique +proposed a visit to the porpoise-fishery for the afternoon, I +eagerly accepted the chance of escape. +</p> + +<p> +We wandered off towards the beach, and by it made our way round to +the great bay where the porpoise-fishing once took place. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at the bones of the old days, and you can imagine what it +meant to us,” said Angélique, pointing to the line of great ribs, +and skulls, and skeletons which made a grotesque barrier to the +highest tides, almost completely round the wide semicircle of the +bay. “We fought for this many a long year, both with men and at +law, and now, alas, we have neither men nor law to work it for us. +The porpoise can swim in and out of the broken park unharmed. There, +just as that fellow is doing now I Look at him!” As she spoke, a +huge white mass rose slowly above the water within the bounds of +the fishery, and then came forward with a rush in pursuit of the +smelts and capelans, shooting up showers of spray, which broke into +rainbows in the brilliant sunlight. +</p> + +<p> +“It is like everything else, going to rack and ruin; with the people +starving in the sight of plenty, because this wretched war must +drag on,” sighed Angélique. “The men feel nothing of it; they have +all the fighting and glory, while we sit at home helpless, good +for nothing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don't say that, ma belle!” called out her brother, cheerily; and +we turned to find him behind us. “Do you think we could have the +heart to keep it up, if it were not for the thought of you? But +there, you are tired and out of sorts, little one. Go back to the +mother, and I will take madame round by the end of the bay and back +by the sucrerie.” +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible for me to object, and Angélique left us, while +we took our way along the sands. M. de Sarennes seemed to have +thrown aside his former cares, and rattled on in his natural way, +noting and explaining everything which might interest me, and had +I not known him better, I might have been misled by his openness; +but all the time I kept asking myself: “When will he speak? What +will he say?” So that it was a relief when, as we turned away from +the shore into the woods, he suddenly dropped his former tone, and +addressed me without pretence: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, are you as anxious as before to get to Louisbourg?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; I have decided not to go. It is too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why too late? Are you fearful M. de Maxwell may have wearied +waiting for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, your words are an insult! If this be all you have to +say to me, I beg you will let me return to the house.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not so fast, madame. I have a question or two yet which require +to be answered, unless you prefer I should put them before my mother +and sister. No? Then will you tell me who this boy Christophe really +is? From his first appearance below there I was much puzzled why +M. de Maxwell should have taken so unusual an interest in him. He +was as jealous of the boy's liking for me as a doting mother could +be, and was more distressed over his capture than many a father +would have been over the loss of his son.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur,” I answered, trying to conceal my alarm, “M. de Maxwell +lodged for some time in London in the house of this boy's mother, +my waiting-woman, Lucy Routh. Surely his meeting again with the +lad he knew as a child will explain his interest.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed? And may I ask when it was that he lodged with this convenient +waiting-woman?” he said, with a sneer that set my blood boiling. +</p> + +<p> +“It was ten years ago, monsieur. Why do you ask me these questions?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because I wish to try a small problem in calculation. I was rude +enough to hazard a guess at your age the first time we came to an +understanding. Perhaps it was ungallant, but still, it remains. I +said then, you were 'of a certain age,' but now, to be exact, we +will say you are twenty-seven, perhaps twenty-six. This boy in whom +such a paternal interest was displayed must be fifteen or sixteen. +No, that will not adjust itself. Forgive my thinking out loud.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, this is intolerable! What is it you wish to know?” +</p> + +<p> +“Simply if M. de Maxwell was acquainted with this paragon of +waiting-women before he lodged with her ten years ago?” +</p> + +<p> +“You coward! Why do you not put such a question to M. de Maxwell +himself?” +</p> + +<p> +“It might prove embarrassing, madame. Almost as embarrassing as if +I had obeyed the orders of your friend M. le Marquis de Montcalm, +and brought you to M. le Chevalier de Maxwell, as you desired.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am completely at a loss to know what you mean,” I said, boldly, +but my heart sank at his words. +</p> + +<p> +“Simply this, madame,” and he handed me an open letter. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “MONSIEUR” [I read],—“If you have any regard for me, keep the + lady claiming to be my wife at such a distance that I may never + set eyes on her again. Should she be in want, I will gladly + reimburse you for any expenditure you may make on her account. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “LE CHEVR DE MAXWELL.” +</p> + +<p> +It was almost like a blow, and for a moment I stood numb and +bewildered; but the realisation of my danger, from the man who +stood there smiling at my degradation, was a spur to me, and I +neither fainted nor cried aloud. +</p> + +<p> +“A pitiable situation, truly! Believe me, my dear madame, my heart +bleeds for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are a liar, as well as a coward, monsieur. I know not what +you have said or written to M. de Maxwell, but neither he nor any +man can ever cast me off. I am not his wife!” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God for that!” he cried, in so different a voice that I +looked at him in surprise. “Thank God for that! Marguerite, I love +you with my whole heart, and body, and life. I know I am nothing +but a rough coureur de bois, in spite of my birth. I have been +cruel to you. I have tortured you. Forgive me, forgive me! I knew +of no other way to woo you. Teach me to be gentle, and I will be +gentle for your sake. But, God in heaven! do not ask me to give +you up! I cannot live without you. I have lost my soul to you. I +have lost everything, for I should not be beside you even now!” +</p> + +<p> +“No, you should not!” rang out a clear voice, and le père Jean +stepped into the path before us. “Man never spake truer words, +Sarennes. I have followed you night and day to bring you back to +your duty. You are waited for every hour at Louisbourg, for the +Indians will not move without you.” +</p> + +<p> +He spake rapidly, like one accustomed to command, and at the same +time held forth his hand to me, as one might to a child, and I +seized it in both mine, and stepped close to his side. +</p> + +<p> +At the first sound of the priest's voice M. de Sarennes's whole +aspect changed; his face took on a hard, obstinate look, and he +scowled as if he would have struck the man before him, but he +answered him not a word. +</p> + +<p> +“Go!” again commanded the priest. “Go back to Louisbourg! You need +no word of mine to urge you; if you do, I will tell you the Cross +of St. Louis awaits you there.” +</p> + +<p> +“What care I for your Cross of St. Louis? I am not a French popinjay +to be dazzled by your gewgaws from Versailles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then go because your honour calls!” +</p> + +<p> +“Who are you to prate about honour? What does a priest know about +honour? Keep to your pater-nosters and aves!” he cried, with an +insulting laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“You clown!” cried the priest, trembling with indignation. “My +ancestors carried their own banner to the Sepulchre of Our Lord, +when yours were hewers of wood and drawers of water! But, forgive +me,” he added, almost in the same breath, “this is beside the +question. M. de Sarennes, you are a soldier, and as such your +honour is dear to you; there are hundreds of men, aye, and there +are women too, whose honour and safety in a few weeks, perhaps +sooner, will depend on your succour. You know your help is absolutely +necessary in the event of the place being invested. M. de Montcalm +expects you to be at your post; M. de Vaudreuil has himself given +you his orders; your Indians will follow no other than yourself, +and are only waiting for you to lead them. No one knows better +than yourself with what suspicion they will look on your +disappearance. Your name will be on every lip in Louisbourg, and +every eye will hourly watch for your coming. You carry the safety +of the fortress, perhaps of the country, in your keeping.” +</p> + +<p> +“What you say is no doubt true, mon père. But it rests with you +whether I go or not,” he returned, in a quiet voice, without a +trace of the passion which had swayed him a moment since. +</p> + +<p> +“How? In what way can it rest with me? I have given you my message, +your orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, mon père, but I require more; I wish for your blessing.” +</p> + +<p> +“You shall have that, my son, my blessing and my constant prayers.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is well, mon père, but I require more; I would have your +blessing for another also.” +</p> + +<p> +“For whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“For this lady, mon père. If you wish me to leave for Louisbourg, +you will marry me first,” he said, with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Madame de St. Just.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, not 'Madame de St. Just!' But she will then have the right to +style herself 'Madame de Sarennes.' Don't attempt any heroics!” he +went on, raising his voice angrily, while I shrank close to the +priest in terror. “I know all about this pretended Madame de St. +Just, perhaps even better than do you. If I choose to give her an +honourable name, it is my own affair. Don't prate to me about +honour! I am here because it does not weigh with me for the moment. +Don't talk to me of the safety of the country; it is in your hands. +I tell you plainly I will not go otherwise. Marry me to-day, and +I will start to-night; if not, then any blame there may be will +lie not on my head, but on yours. Now, monsieur, you have my answer.” +</p> + +<p> +The two men stood facing each other for a moment in silence. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0158-large.jpg" name="picture-0158"> + <img src="images/picture-0158-small.jpg" + alt="The two men stood facing each other in silence."/></a> + +<p> +Then the priest turned to me: “Will you marry this man, my daughter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon père!” I cried, shuddering, and holding closer to him. +</p> + +<p> +He stepped in front of me and faced the Canadian. “Go!” he commanded. +“Go! You may succour Louisbourg or not, as you will, but before I +would raise my hand in such a sacrilege as you have dared to insult +your God in proffering, I would see it withered to the bone. I will +try to believe you led astray by your evil passions, that you are +not sane for the moment; and if God see fit to leave you in your +present evil possession, He will have punished you more fearfully +than any curse of mine can do. Go, and may God pity you! Come, my +daughter,” he said to me. +</p> + +<p> +Holding my hand in his strong, assuring grasp, he led me beside +him, safe in his protecting presence. Before we gained the open +path he stopped, and, motioning me to be seated on a log, he remained +standing. The moment he withdrew his hand the distance between us +seemed immeasurable; all his protection, all his comradeship were +withdrawn with his grasp, and he stood before me as the priest and +judge only. +</p> + +<p> +“I have no wish to add to your trouble,” he began, slowly, and +almost unwillingly, I thought, “but for your own safety I must make +it clear to you, beyond further question or casuistry, what your +position now is, and to what your disobedience has led. For yourself, +you are in a position sevenfold worse than you were before; you +have carried the harmless deception I authorised to a point that +has placed you in a most dangerous and humiliating situation. +Sarennes has become infatuated with you to an extent which threatens +ruin to himself, disgrace to those nearest him, and, perhaps, +disaster to greater and more important interests. Nay, do not rise +or speak. I know you would disclaim any part in the matter, but +unfortunately your intention does not alter facts; it is your +presence here that is at fault. Beyond this you are personally in +extreme peril; you must realise that this man knows nothing of the +restrictions which should govern his conduct towards you. Blinded +as he is by his passion, he will not hesitate a moment to carry +you off, if need be, and his conscience will never suffer a +moment's pang, provided he find a priest to patter the words of +the marriage-service over you, if, indeed, he even hold such a +concession to your feelings necessary. The presence of his mother +and sister is no real protection, and even his absence is no +assurance of safety, for he can readily find means to carry out +his purpose without appearing on the scene himself. You had better +stay within-doors, or at least within sight of the house, until +the immediate danger is past. I will not go with you farther now, +as I have no wish to offer more explanations than may be absolutely +necessary, and I must follow this unhappy man, if haply I yet may +turn him to his duty. Do you go on to the house, and when I return, +perhaps on the morrow, I will see what can be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon père, mon père, forgive me before I go!” I cried, kneeling +at his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no question of my forgiveness,” he answered, coldly. “You +must learn that wrong-doing need not be personal to produce evil. +There is no question of me or thee in the matter at all. It is much +greater, much more serious than any personal feeling, and the +results may swell out of all proportion, that you can see, to your +action. All that can be done now is to remedy it in so far as in +us lies. Go, my daughter, go and ask for guidance, the one thing +needful, far above any mere human forgiveness. But do not go thinking +you have forfeited either my sympathy or my help. I owe both to +you, as to every helpless creature God sends into my path; and, +believe me, no one could appeal more strongly to my poor protection +than do you. Go, my daughter, and may God keep and comfort you!” +</p> + +<p> +I found my way back, dazed and confounded, and could only with the +greatest effort command myself sufficiently to return some coherent +answer to Angélique's inquiry as to her brother; but she covered +my confusion with her own liveliness. +</p> + +<p> +“Never marry a soldier, 'mademoiselle!'” she exclaimed. “They +worry one's life out with their eternal comings and goings. As +likely as not Charles is off again, and will never come near us to +say farewell; but that is a bagatelle. The real trouble is that my +mother is an old woman; she realises keenly that any day Charles +may say good-bye for the last time, and to spare her the pain of +parting, he has more than once slipped off quietly like this. Never +was a man so tender of women as my brother Charles! But you are +pale; you look tired out. It is often so in spring-time in this +country. What you should do is to get to bed at once, and have +Lucie bring you a tisane when you are ready for sleep. Go, that is +wise.” +</p> + +<p> +It was such a relief to be alone, to lie broken and wretched, but +safe and by myself, in my own chamber, that for the moment this +sufficed me; then sleep came to me, and when I awoke, quieted and +refreshed, the house was still, and Lucy lay sleeping in her cot +near by. +</p> + +<p> +With the waking, came back the whole dreadful scene through which +I had just passed, and in my ears rang the warnings of le père Jean +touching my safety. Alas! I realised the danger only too vividly, +and I trembled in the darkness at the pictures I could not help +forming in my mind. There seemed no outlet and no end to my misery. +Even the thought of facing the mother, who saw naught but the +chivalrous soldier in her son, and the sister, who so firmly believed +in the tenderness and magnanimity of her brother, was a torture to +me. In Lucy it would be impossible as well as dishonourable to +confide, and, with the priest gone, I stood alone against a danger +the very existence of which would be a degradation to reveal. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly I remembered Gabriel and the promise which I had dismissed +so lightly at the time of its making, and at once a way of escape +opened before me. +</p> + +<p> +I did not hesitate a moment; slipping noiselessly out of bed, I +dressed myself, and taking my heavy cloak and shoes in my hand, I +stole out of my room and into the kitchen, where I felt for the +box with the steel and flint beside the fireplace, and then opening +the door, I stood alone in the quiet night. +</p> + +<p> +I was country-born, if not country-bred, which served me in good +stead now; for the night had not the terrors for me I had feared, +and I marvelled at my courage as I went on. I had only one anxiety +in mind, and that was lest the beacon should not be in a fit state +for firing. Thinking of nothing else, I hurried down the path by +the Little River until I reached the Beacon Point, where, to my +relief, I found the pile of wood dry and undisturbed. +</p> + +<p> +I knelt beside it; but at first my hands trembled so I could not +strike a spark; however, the very effort steadied me, and, gathering +some small twigs, in a few minutes I had my tinder alight, the +twigs caught, with them I lighted others, and when I rose to my +feet the flame was curling up through the skilfully piled branches, +and in a few moments a straight pillar of fire went leaping up into +the night. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0160-large.jpg" name="picture-0160"> + <img src="images/picture-0160-small.jpg" + alt="A straight pillar of fire went leaping up into the night."/></a> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></h2> + +<p> +ON THE ISLE AUX COUDRES +</p> + +<p> +Now that the beacon was fairly alight my purpose was accomplished, +and I was free to return to the house; but the night was warm, +there was no sound save the lapping of the rising tide, or the +short quick puff of some slowly turning porpoise from out the +darkness beyond, and I stood there for what I suppose was a long +time, held by the spell of the perfect quiet. At length I roused +myself, and began to retrace my steps, but as I gained the line of +the pine wood I turned aside and stood a moment for a last look at +the friendly beacon flaring up into the darkness. The loud crackle +of the wood seemed like joyous cries of encouragement, and the +strong ruddy flame filled me with a fresh confidence. On the morrow, +if Gabriel should appear, I would announce our departure for Quebec, +and once there would place myself under the protection of M. de +Montcalm until... +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Heaven!” I almost screamed, for I heard footsteps hurriedly +approaching, and had only time to withdraw more completely into +the shadow of the trees when Luntook, the Indian, came running down +the path, and in an instant scattered the fire on all sides, hurling +the blazing brands over the cliff and covering up the embers until +not a spark remained. +</p> + +<p> +When the fire was completely extinguished he looked about him +slowly, while I cowered there in mortal terror, believing he would +immediately search for and certainly discover me; but, to my +surprise, he walked silently past my shelter and kept his way along +the path. +</p> + +<p> +I was simply paralysed with fear. I could not have screamed or made +a move had my life depended on it; the very presence of the man +struck terror to my soul, for he seemed the personification of all +the possibility of evil in his master. He it was, I well knew, who +would carry out any violence which might be determined against me, +and the fact of his remaining about the place when his master was +supposed to have left, filled me with alarm. I was persuaded I +was to be carried off, perhaps on the morrow, and the priest's +warning came back to me with renewed insistence. +</p> + +<p> +My burden of fear so grew upon me that I dared not remain within +the shadow of the wood, for every sound in its depths shook me with +a new terror, and every moment I imagined I could feel the Indian +stealing nearer me in the darkness. I dared not look behind me, I +dared hardly move forward, but my dread of the wood was greater +than that of the open beach, and I somehow managed to clamber down +the cliff and took shelter behind a great bowlder, where I could +hear the soothing ripple of the water and feel the soft wind against +my face. It brought a sense of being removed from the land and men; +I was more alone, but I felt safer. +</p> + +<p> +The chill of the night struck through me to the bone, and I was +burdened with its length; it seemed as if time were standing still. +But at last I was roused by the hoarse call of birds passing high +overhead, and saw the sky was paling in the east. Slowly, slowly +the gray dawn came, trees began to detach themselves and stand out +against the sky, rocks took a vague form against the sands, the +wicker lines of the fishery grew distinct in the receding waters, +while white wreaths of mist rose smoke-like from the Little River. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, slowly grew the glory in the east, and when at length the +first beams of the sun struck strong and clear across the bay, +making a shining pathway to my very feet, it seemed so actually a +Heaven-sent way of escape that, trembling in every limb, I rose +and staggered forward as if it were possible to tread it; and then, +recovering my distracted senses, I fell to crying like a child. +</p> + +<p> +The tears brought relief, and I began to bestir myself, to move +about quickly, until I could feel my stiffened limbs again, and +recovered some sense of warmth. I did not dare to leave the open +security of the beach until the sun was higher, when I wandered +out to the extreme end of the sands, looking anxiously for some +answer to my signal from the Isle aux Coudres, but the opposite +shore, was hidden by a close bank of white cloud, broken only by +the rounded tops of the mountains above Les Eboulements. Presently +the cloud began to lift and scatter, and I could make out the island +lying low and dun against the higher main-land. But no answering +smoke broke the clear morning air; indeed, it seemed impossible +that my signal, which had not burned for an hour at most, could be +seen at such a distance. I turned away with an empty heart, when +I caught sight of a boat standing up close inshore, her sails filled +with the freshening morning breeze. +</p> + +<p> +The mere presence of a means of escape changed everything in a +moment. I was filled with a new courage, and climbing to the top +of the outermost bowlder, I drew the long white scarf from my neck +and waved it to and fro above my head. To my intense joy, I was +answered by the boat hauling round, and lowering and raising the +point of one of her sails—the same signal I had seen Gabriel make +to M. de Montcalm off Cap Tourmente. It was Gabriel himself! his +signal assured me of it; and at the sight the morning took on a +new glory, for the terror and bitterness of the night had passed +as I watched the boat as my deliverance hastening towards me. +</p> + +<p> +As she came on, I made out Gabriel distinctly, and before long the +boat was lying motionless, Gabriel had his shallop over the side, +and a moment later was splashing through the shallow water, and +bowing as though he had parted from me only yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +“'Bon chien chasse de race,' madame. I was cruising about, as I +always am, ready for the first ship which appears, when I saw the +light; and though it did not burn long enough for a signal, I +thought it well to look it up; and now, madame, I am at your orders, +as I promised. I was sure you would want me some day.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Gabriel, I do want you! I never stood in greater need. Take +me on board, and I will tell you.” +</p> + +<p> +He showed no surprise at my demand, but merely repeating his +favourite proverb, “ce que femme vent, Dieu le veut,” lifted me in +his arms like a child, and carried me through mud and water, and +set me in his shallop, when a few strokes brought as alongside the +boat, and I was in safety on her deck. Then the sails were once +more set, and we stood away from the shore and up the river. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0166-large.jpg" name="picture-0166"> + <img src="images/picture-0166-small.jpg" + alt="He carried me through mud and water, and set me in his shallop."/></a> + +<p> +He did not question me, nor, indeed, would he allow me to speak, +until he had provided a hot drink of some sweetened spirit, which +brought back the glow to my blood, and then he set about preparing +breakfast, keeping up an incessant chatter the while, until he had +me laughing at his flow of talk. +</p> + +<p> +“Aha! That is better!” he exclaimed, joyfully. “Now, madame, what +are your orders?” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you take me to Quebec?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can—but—” and his face lengthened. +</p> + +<p> +“But what?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, to be truthful, I am expecting the first ships every +day now; they are late as it is; and if I am off the ground, why, +then the bread must drop into some one else's basket! That is all.” +</p> + +<p> +“I can pay you well for what you may lose in this way.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not only the money, madame, 'l'argent est rond et çà roule,' +but I have always brought up the first ship since I was twenty, +and that was not last Sunday, as one may guess. Yet, if madame says +so, I am at her orders.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know what to say, Gabriel. I will not return to Beaulieu, +and though I want to reach Quebec, I am unwilling you should miss +your ship; but I certainly cannot remain on board here while you +are with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Bedame! I have a plan, if it will answer. We are at no distance +from the Island, my good wife is alone, as usual, and, if I do not +ask too much, could you not put up with her for a week or two at +most until I pick up my ship, and then the trick is done? Our house +is clean, my wife is the best of managers, and will do everything +to make you comfortable.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will answer admirably, Gabriel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! Madame, I can also return to Beaulieu and fetch your woman +and such things as you may desire.” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time I remembered Lucy, and was filled with remorse +at the thought of my desertion of her. What could I do? To send +word back to Beaulieu now would be to betray my retreat; and what +explanation could I offer to my kindly hosts? +</p> + +<p> +Gabriel, with ready tact, saw my distress. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, madame; I am not asking questions; I am not even thinking +them. You shall come and go as you like with me and mine, and no +one shall dare to do aught but obey you. If my plan does not suit, +say so freely, madame, and we will go on to Quebec without another +thought, and the King's ship must wait, or go on with such bungler +as she may find.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Gabriel; I will not have it so. I can remain on the Island +for a week as well as not, and, in fact, will do nothing else. That +is settled. And, Gabriel, because you are a brave and loyal man I +shall trust you further—I do not wish any one to know where I am +while on the Island, unless I can get word to le père Jean.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, as for that, you are going to meet him; for he is due on the +Island even now. He always comes about this time to see what is +left of us after the winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I am quite satisfied. Now tell me, have you any news from +Louisbourg?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing, madame; no ship has come up yet; but it will not be long +before we hear now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I shall expect to hear when you return for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You will, madame; depend upon it, I will bring you news. And now, +if I may offer a counsel, which I am sure is wise, I would say, +madame, that you should lie down and try to sleep.” +</p> + +<p> +The advice was as welcome as it was wise, and it was not long ere +I carried it out. +</p> + +<p> +When I awoke, it was well on in the afternoon, and we were close +inshore. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madame, it is the Island. There is my house—the one with +the flag-staff. See, my good woman has the signal flying for me. +I can never come within reach without her scenting me out.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a fine pride in his words, and his house was worthy of +it. A clean, honest, white face it presented, framed in young +hop-vines carefully trained up the low curving roof, and set in a +garden which already gave promise of much bloom. His wife, a plump, +comely woman, waited for us at the landing-place. +</p> + +<p> +“Ma bonne amie!” said Gabriel, embracing her. “Madame de St. Just +has crossed with me from Beaulieu to await le père Jean here, and +will stay with you until he comes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your servant, madame,” she answered, with a neat courtesy. “If my +good man had let me know you were coming, I would have been better +prepared.” +</p> + +<p> +“'Qui n'a, ne peut,' ma bonne femme. You will do your best, and +madame will not ask for more. Had she known of her coming herself, +she would have travelled with her servant, as she is used; but she +comes alone, because she has great need, and I assured her you +would be proud to do all you can for her sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I will, madame; do not let my husband make you believe I am +not more than pleased to have you in my poor house. You do us too +much honour in asking it. Come, madame, let me shew you the way.” +</p> + +<p> +The house lost nothing of its charm on a nearer approach, and its +interior spake volumes for its keeper's cleanliness—not a common +quality in the country, as I discovered later. The furniture was +of the simplest description, but the well-scrubbed floor was covered +with bright-coloured strips of home-made carpeting—“les catalogues,” +as she called it—and in one corner stood the pride of the family, +the great bed—a huge construction, covered with a marvellous quilt +of patchwork, and hung with spotless valance and curtains. +</p> + +<p> +Gabriel was to set off by the next tide, and left only after charging +his Amelia with numberless instructions as to my care and comfort. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, these men!” laughed the good-natured woman. “They think the +world can't turn round without their advice!” +</p> + +<p> +I was too tired and too safe not to sleep well, and when the smiling +face of Madame Dufour appeared at my bedside in the morning, it +was to inform me that le père Jean's canoe was already in sight, +and he would be at the Island in less than an hour. +</p> + +<p> +Eager as I was to see him, I could not but dread the meeting and +what he might say of my desertion, though I begged my hostess to +meet him and tell him I was awaiting his leisure. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, mon père, I did not know what to do!” I cried, when we were +alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God you are safe and in good hands,” he returned, warmly. +“How was it you came to take this step?” +</p> + +<p> +Thereupon I told him of my attempt to signal for Gabriel, of the +appearance of Luntook, of my terror, and of my sudden resolve on +the pilot's appearance. “It was only when I felt myself safe, mon +père, that I remembered what my action might mean to others; and +now I am miserable at the thought of the anxiety I have caused. +What can be done?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot blame you, my daughter; you have been brought face to +face with dangers you know nothing of, in surroundings which are +strange to you; it is well for your own sake you should be removed +from the constant dread of their recurrence. I guessed at your +destination, for on landing the same morning you left, André and +I saw the beacon had been lighted, and a very little looking about +convinced us of what had happened, for we not only found your scarf, +but Gabriel's marks in the sand were plain directions.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, mon père, what of them at the house?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is a time of war, my daughter,” he returned, smiling. “More +than one person is moving about the country in a mysterious way; +much greater freedom is allowed; and when I explained to Mme. de +Sarennes that you were in my care, and it was necessary you should +be absent for a time, she was satisfied with my word, and bade your +woman make up a packet of necessaries for you, which André will +bring presently. You cannot do better than remain where you are +until I can arrange for your woman to meet you and go on to Quebec +together. I soon shall know what opportunity offers for a passage +to France, which will be somewhat uncertain now, as the English +who wintered at Halifax are at sea again; but there is time enough +to decide; the whole summer is before us.” +</p> + +<p> +And all this without a word, without a look of reproach; how my +heart went out to him for his forbearance! +</p> + +<p> +At length I asked the question which was always with me: “Mon père, +is there any news?” +</p> + +<p> +“From Louisbourg? Nothing that is hopeful. A more formidable fleet +than ever before has left England; we cannot expect any succour +from France; and Louisbourg is probably invested by this time, if +the enemy have made good their landing. Before another month the +matter will be pushed to an issue, and it will be against us, unless +the place can be relieved.” +</p> + +<p> +Where the expected relief was to come from I did not dare to ask, +as I could not doubt but that M. de Sarennes was an important factor +in the plan. +</p> + +<p> +Le père Jean had manifold duties to perform during his short stay; +impatient couples were married, children were baptised, and many +an anxious heart relieved of the burthen which it had borne alone +through the long imprisonment of the winter. He did not suffer me +to remain idle either, for he gathered the children about him, and +showed me how to instruct them in the elements of our faith. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is your work,” he said, smiling. “You have your education +and sympathy on the one hand, and on the other are these little +black and brown heads—Bergerons, Tremblays, Gauthiers, and so +on—to be filled with some measure of the grace which God intended +for each of them. It will be a comfort to me to think of them in +your hands while I am sent on my Master's business, often into +paths not of my own choosing. Do not on any account be tempted to +leave here until I come or send for you. Even if M. de Sarennes +should appear, be under no apprehension, for all you need do is to +tell Mme. Dufour, and it will be a delight to her to balk his +plans, as there is no love lost between these Islanders and the +people of the main-land.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will do my best, mon père. When may I look for your return?” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot tell, perhaps in a month or so; but do not let that +disturb you; for, even if I am prevented, I will surely send you +word what to do. Seek your quiet in your daily task, and your +comfort in prayer.” +</p> + +<p> +So he took his way, leaving me in such content as was possible. +Had I dared I would have questioned him about the letter, but I +could not bring myself to acknowledge this humiliation, even to +him. I felt it so keenly, that I no longer wondered my tormentor +had felt himself free to make any proposal, when it was but to one +whom he believed to be the discarded wife of another, and I found +a new misery in vain imaginings of what had been written to call +forth so heartless a reply. I would comfort myself at one moment +by thinking it was not intended for me, only to be met by the +alternative of Hugh being married to another. Turn which way I +might, I could frame no explanation which brought any comfort. If +the letter were for me, then had no man ever betrayed love more +cruelly; if for another, then I had thrown away my life. +</p> + +<p> +My work with the children was the greatest boon which could have +been granted me; it kept me sane and healthy, and my heart went +out to the little ignorant souls so full of life and affection. It +was no task; it was a welcome labour of love; and the children saw +and felt it as such; on their side, their little feet were never +too weary nor their little hands too tired to respond to any service +I might ask of them. +</p> + +<p> +But despite their love and the unfailing kindness of Mme. Dufour, +it was impossible to escape from my pain. My daily refuge was the +altar of the little church, where night and morn, often in company +of some other lonely woman anxious for the safety of son or husband +far at sea, I laid bare my soul in an agony of supplication for +the safety of the one dear to me above all others; and I found +support, too, in the thought of the devoted priest pursuing his +lonely way, consecrating his life and effort for others, most of +whom made no return, for they knew not the greatness of his sacrifice. +</p> + +<p> +The rumours that reached us during the next two months brought no +assuagement to our fears, and when le père Jean came, towards the +middle of August, men, women, and children gathered on the beach +to welcome him. His white, worn face and wearied bearing told his +message before he spake a word, and my heart failed me at the sight. +</p> + +<p> +With his unfailing consideration, he turned to me the moment he +saw my distress. “Le Chevalier de Maxwell is safe; he escaped the +night the capitulation was signed,” he whispered, and then turned +with his news towards the anxious people. +</p> + +<p> +Like one afar off I heard him tell of the long siege, of the +hardships endured, the courage displayed, the surrender of the +ruined fortress, and the removal of the garrison to the ships of +war; but in the selfishness of love my heart was too full of +gratitude to have understanding for aught else. +</p> + +<p> +When the story was ended, and the eager questioners answered, he +turned to me again, and, inviting me to follow, we took our way +towards the church. +</p> + +<p> +“You are anxious to hear more,” he said, gently. “Let me tell you +all I know. M. de Maxwell left the town only after the capitulation +was reluctantly agreed to by M. de Drucour, who, with all his +officers, had protested against it, and would willingly have held +out even beyond hope. He ran the gantlet of the batteries the whole +length of the harbour in safety; he was at Miramichi only two days +before I arrived there, and took command of some Canadians in charge +of a number of English prisoners to lead them to Quebec. So you +may comfort yourself with the thought of his safety, and that your +prayers have been answered.” +</p> + +<p> +“What will happen now, mon père?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is impossible to say; except that the English will certainly +push every advantage they have gained, and, unless substantial help +comes from without, the outlook is desperate.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did no help come to Louisbourg, mon père?” +</p> + +<p> +“None,” he answered; and the one word sank into my heart like a +knell. He parted from me at the church door, and I wandered down +to the beach alone. +</p> + +<p> +The loss of Louisbourg, as even I could see, might mean the loss +of Canada, and, in the priest's eyes at least, its loss was due +not so much to the weakness of the garrison as to the failure of +the relief, and this relief could have come only by the man who +had withstood his commands, holding out a shameful condition as +the price of his obedience. Whether le père Jean was right or wrong +I could not judge, but I surely knew he could but lay the source +of this dishonour to the wilful act of the woman he had rescued +and befriended in her hour of need. +</p> + +<p> +The news of the gallant defence of Carillon went far to offset the +disaster of Louisbourg, but not to allay our anxiety, and September +was a trying month for us all; but Gabriel visited us twice, and +was unshaken in his confidence. +</p> + +<p> +“Time enough to cry out when we are beaten, madame. We have held +them back at Carillon, and will do so again, if need be; they have +been beaten in the Upper Country before this, and they will be +clever indeed if they can come up the river.” +</p> + +<p> +“They did so once before, Gabriel.” +</p> + +<p> +“'Une fois n'est pas coutume,' madame; pilots cannot be picked up +like pease.” +</p> + +<p> +I expected word from le père Jean every day, and awaited it with +conflicting feelings. I was most anxious to know the truth about +Hugh, and yet to meet him was past my desire, if he were really +married. Should that prove the case, then I would use my utmost +effort to return to France without his knowing I had ever been in +the country. Should he discover it, then I must bear the humiliation +as best I might; but I could not bring myself to go away, and +perhaps wreck my future as well as his, through a misunderstanding. +I felt I had gone too far, had suffered too much, to throw it all +away when the truth was within my reach. +</p> + +<p> +In the beginning of October Gabriel came with the expected letter +from le père Jean. Mme. de Sarennes and Angélique had gone on to +Quebec to spend the winter there, and I was expected to join them +whenever it might be convenient. I took affectionate farewells of +my good friend, Mme. Dufour, and the infant population of the +parish, and set forth with Gabriel. We made a grand run of it, and +were in full view of the town before the sun had quite set. I had +seen no place, except perhaps Edinburgh, with which I could compare +it, and Quebec gained in the comparison. Gabriel saw my admiration, +and was delighted. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at it well, madame; it is the gate of the finest country le +bon Dieu ever created, and we hold the key! No man need have a +faint heart when he can look on Quebec. See the little fort there +on the top of the Cape! It was made to signal a King's ships only. +See the Château where it stands! It looks like the Governor himself. +See the steeples of the Cathedral, of the Jesuits, of the Recollets! +See the convents and the hospitals! It is like the Holy City of +God! And then talk, if one can, of it falling into the hands of +'les goddams' and 'les Bostonnais.' Bah! It is impossible! If not, +what is the use of going to church on Sunday?” +</p> + +<p> +Truly he had every excuse for his pride; and when I looked on the +majestic river, barred by the mighty cliff with its glittering +crown of roofs and spires overlooking the beautiful sweep of the +St. Charles, I felt that his outburst was more of a declaration +than a boast. +</p> + +<p> +I disembarked with a light heart, and, guided by Gabriel, climbed +the steep ascent to the Haute Ville, at the head of which stood +the Sarennes house, there to receive a welcome from Mme. de Sarennes +and Angélique, for which none but a daughter and a sister might +look. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></h2> + +<p> +AT QUEBEC +</p> + +<p> +When our first greetings were over, I asked eagerly for Lucy. +</p> + +<p> +“She is not with us at the moment, my dear,” said Mme. de Sarennes; +“but we look for news of her soon now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is she?” I asked, dreading to discover the hand of M. de +Sarennes in the matter. +</p> + +<p> +“When you left with le père Jean, she was much distressed, for she +had not the same reliance on his assurance of your safety as we, +and at first insisted that you would never have willingly gone +without her, but after a while she seemed to be content. I did not +know, until Angélique told me later, that she was possessed with +the idea of her son being in Quebec, or I might have persuaded her +of its folly. But I knew nothing of it, and thought she was quite +content to await your return, when we were astonished by her +disappearance. She left a note behind, which, however, did not tell +us anything beyond the word Quebec, as it was, of course, in English. +Angélique, fetch the note; it is in my red box. We had search made +for her as soon as possible, and heard of her along the road as +far as Beaumont, but there all trace was lost. Here is the note, +my dear,” she said, as Angélique entered. +</p> + +<p> +The poor little letter was not addressed, and was written in a +trembling hand. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “I am going to Quebec to find my son” [I read]. “M. de + Sarennes tells me he is there, and I need not stay from + him now my mistress is gone. I am thankful to every one + who was kind to me, and I will pray for each one every + night. LUCY.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is as I thought,” said Mme. de Sarennes. “Poor soul, I am more +distressed at the thought of her unrest than for her safety, for +our people are very good, particularly to any one they see is not +of strong mind. She had some money, Angélique tells me. I have sent +her description to the different convents, where they are likely +to know of any one in want; and in a small place like this it will +not be long before we hear of her.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I am greatly distressed, madame, that you should have had this +anxiety, in addition to what I have caused.” +</p> + +<p> +“If we had not cared for her, we should have had no anxiety; and +as for yourself, my dear, you must not think we were troubled when +le père Jean told us you were under his direction; and now that +you have come back to us in safety, your long absence is atoned +for. I did not know I could have missed any one so much who was +outside of my own family.” +</p> + +<p> +This unexpected tenderness from one I had respected rather than +loved, for I had stood somewhat in awe of the usually unresponsive +old lady, touched me more than I can tell, and gave me a sense of +home and protection which I had long missed, and it was a pain to +think I was forced to hide the true reason of my flight from her +loyal heart. +</p> + +<p> +The Sarennes house made one of a tower-like group of dwellings +forming a little island, as it were, at the head of the Côte de la +Montagne, round which swept the streets to zigzag down the long, +steep hill, and join, after many turnings, at its foot. Fronting +it stood the bishop's palace, a modest enough edifice, and from my +window at the back I could look on the house of Philibert, popularly +known as “Le Chien d'Or,” from the curious carving over the door, +hinting at some tragedy of patient waiting and revenge. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately above was a bright little cul-de-sac, dignified by the +name of la rue du Parloir—the theatre of many of the social doings +of Quebec; behind this, on the one side, rose the simple apse of +the Cathedral, and on the other the white walls and glistening +roofs of the Seminary. +</p> + +<p> +It was not long before I learned the gossip of the town from +Angélique, who had already made her first triumphs in society, in +which she rejoiced so frankly that I felt like a girl again as she +chattered of her pleasures. +</p> + +<p> +“It might not seem much to you, Marguerite, after Paris, but to me +it is splendid, and we have all sorts of men here.” +</p> + +<p> +“No doubt, chérie. And you find them all charming?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, they all try to please me, even the bad ones.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have bad ones too, ma mie?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed we have, Marguerite, as bad as you ever saw in Paris. You +needn't laugh.” +</p> + +<p> +“Heaven forbid! I never found them amusing in Paris, or else where.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, but I do! There is M. Bigot, the Intendant. He is wicked, if +you like! He is ugly too; but his manner!—it is simply enchanting. +He dresses to perfection; and when he plays with a lady, he loses +to her like a nobleman. I don't care what they say about him, c'est +un galant homme! and the place would be very dull without him.” +</p> + +<p> +“But he is not the only man, Angélique?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dear no! And he wouldn't be so bad, I am sure, if it were not for +that odious Mme. Péan; I am sure she is dreadful, and so pretty +too! But there are other men; there is M. de Bougainville, who is +young, and has le bel air, but is too serious. M. Poulariez, tall +and gallant-looking—he is colonel of the Royal Rouissillon; there +is Major Joannès—he remembers you on the yacht—he is the little +officer who provided the wine for the toasts; then there is M. de +Roquemaure and M. de la Rochebeaucourt, and, best of all, there is +M. de Maxwell—M. le Chevalier de Maxwell de Kirkconnel—he is a +countryman of your own, Marguerite;” and she paused and looked at +me as if awaiting an answer. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, and what of him?” I asked, with a good shew of composure. +</p> + +<p> +“Simply that he is the only man I have ever seen that I could fall +in love with. That shocks you, I suppose? Well, don't be afraid. +I am not nearly so bold as I pretend, and I don't mean a word of +it. I am simply telling you how much I like him; besides, he is +old enough to be my grandfather. Do you know why I like him?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, chérie. Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because when Mme. de Lanaudière, Mme. de Beaubassin, and others, +were being good to me by patting me on the head and bidding me +behave like a nice little girl, as it were, M. de Maxwell treated +me as if I were the greatest lady in the room. He would leave the +best dressed among them all to cross the floor openly and speak +with me, and because he did so others followed, and I am in request. +He is only 'Chevalier,' you know; but he could not have more weight +here were he Duke or Prince.” +</p> + +<p> +“And he is proud of the distinction, I suppose?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps so, but he does not shew it; but all this is nothing to +his singing.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Only the other night, at Mme. de Lanaudière's, he sang so that +even the players stopped in their game to listen. I know nothing +of music, but I could have cried before he ended; and when he had +sung again, as every one wished, Mme. de Lanaudière cried, before +us all; 'Chevalier, you must not sing again or we cannot call our +hearts our own!' And every one laughed and clapped their hands. +That is what I call a triumph!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Angélique, I know. One of the dearest things I can remember +is a loved voice singing.” +</p> + +<p> +Only those who have known the hunger of the heart can realise the +sweet comfort these innocent words brought to me. They pictured +the Hugh I had carried all these years in my heart. How readily I +could conceive the gentle consideration and the charm which won +the gratitude of this simple girl as they had won my own! +</p> + +<p> +As we settled down to our regular life, Angélique's one distress +was that I would not go with her into the society she so dearly +loved. She could not understand my refusal, and even her mother +thought it would be well that I should shew myself, if merely to +establish my position and put an end to the annoying questionings +which began to circulate concerning my station and intentions. +But on this point I was firm, and the only concession I would make +was to send a note to M. de Montcalm, begging he would pay me the +honour of a visit. +</p> + +<p> +He came on the morrow, and his respect and courtesy towards me went +far to establish my position in the eyes of Mme. de Sarennes, for +he treated me with all the consideration one would shew towards an +equal. +</p> + +<p> +He informed me that his aide, M. de Bougainville, would sail for +France almost immediately—we were then at the beginning of +November—and if I would brave the discomforts of so late a passage, +he would place me under his care; but Mme. de Sarennes protested +so firmly against my undertaking such a voyage that I was spared +a decision. +</p> + +<p> +In truth I did not know what to do. My pride urged me to go; but +my love, in spite of what had passed, drew me closer and closer to +Quebec. I could not go without learning the truth, and yet I could +not bring myself to meet Hugh at the moment, which I should have +to do if I accepted M. de Montcalm's offer; so I allowed matters +to shape themselves without my interference. +</p> + +<p> +“Peace may be proclaimed this winter, and if so, Mme. de St. Just +can go without danger in the spring. Besides, she cannot go until +she knows of the safety of one she is interested in,” said Mme. de +Sarennes, decidedly; and her reminder of my duty towards Lucy ended +the discussion. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, madame,” said M. de Montcalm, turning to me, “if you are to +stay with us you must renounce your retirement, and give us your +support in our little society. We are too few to spare any possible +addition to it, the more so that if peace be not proclaimed before +spring everything is likely to come to an end, so far as we are +concerned.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mon Dieu, Marquis! Do not speak so lightly of disaster,” interrupted +Mme. de Sarennes, severely. +</p> + +<p> +“Ma foi, madame! What is the use of shutting our eyes to the +inevitable? We are hemmed in right and left, and the next move will +be directed on us here. It needs no prophet to foretell that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But is there not Carillon?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is also the river.” +</p> + +<p> +“They can never come up the river! See what befell them before! I +remember well how their fleet was destroyed under their Admiral +Walker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing happens but the impossible, madame; and we are no longer +in an age that hopes for miracles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, it pains me to hear you speak thus. God is not less +powerful now than He was fifty years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“I sincerely trust not, madame; but his Majesty will hardly acquit +me if I rely on a chance tempest or a difficult channel. It is only +the question of a pilot.” +</p> + +<p> +“And think you, monsieur, a Canadian would ever consent to pilot +an enemy up our river?” +</p> + +<p> +“Madame, I cannot doubt that even a Canadian will act as other men, +if he have a pistol at the back of his head. No, no, madame; believe +me, the river is our danger, and I would that M. de Vaudreuil might +see it as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Vaudreuil is a God-fearing man, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“So much the better for him, madame; but, unfortunately, I am +responsible for military matters,” he answered, with a bitterness +which made me most uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +He saw my distress and added, quickly: “But such affairs should +not be discussed before ladies; I forget myself. Mme. de Sarennes, +I have every respect for your opinion, and it is only my anxiety +for our common cause which urges me to exaggerate what may after +all be merely possible dangers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now, Mme. de St. Just, to return to our society. We are dull now, +and shall be until the last ships leave; but we will have balls +and routs later on, and perhaps may even offer you a novelty in +the shape of a winter pique-nique, a fête champêtre in four feet +of snow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That, I am sure, must be delightful,” I answered, pleased that +the conversation had taken a different turn; “but I am afraid I +have little interest in amusement as yet.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have cards, madame, if you are ever tempted to woo the fickle +goddess.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Montcalm,” asked Mme. de Sarennes, in her severest manner, +“do you intend to put an end to scandalous play this winter?” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, mon Dieu, madame! I must do something, I suppose. It is indeed +a scandal that officers should ruin themselves, and I assure you +I have had many a bad quarter of an hour over it. It cannot be +forbidden altogether, for they must amuse themselves in some manner.” +</p> + +<p> +“They exist without it in Montreal.” +</p> + +<p> +“Possibly; but M. de Vaudreuil is there. We cannot hope to aspire +to all his virtues.” And to my dismay I saw we were once more +nearing dangerous ground. +</p> + +<p> +To turn the conversation again, I asked for news of the English at +Louisbourg. +</p> + +<p> +“Some are still there, some in garrison at Beauséjour, some in New +York and Boston, and others returned to England; but we will +doubtless have an opportunity of inspecting most of them here next +spring, unless, as Mme. de Sarennes suggests, peace be declared in +the meantime.” +</p> + +<p> +This was as bad as ever, but led to nothing more than a momentary +stiffness, which Angélique's entrance dissipated, and made a merry +ending to a visit not without its difficulties. +</p> + +<p> +Before the Marquis left, he said to me: “You may not have heard, +madame, but your brother, who is an officer in Fraser's, a Highland +regiment, was captured in the first engagement, and was a prisoner +in Louisbourg up to the capitulation. If you wish, I can obtain +more definite news of him through M. de Maxwell, one of our officers +who was in garrison there at the time.” +</p> + +<p> +Nothing could have been more unlooked-for, and for a moment I was +overwhelmed at the thought of this innocent betrayal of my presence +to Hugh. I could hardly find courage to reply, and it was fortunate +that my answer served as a cover to my confusion. +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Montcalm, I have never heard from or written to my brother +since he accepted his English commission,” I said, in a trembling +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, madame; I had forgotten when I spoke.” +</p> + +<p> +“Just as we forget, monsieur, that our Marguerite is not one of us +by birth as she is in heart,” cried Angélique, enthusiastically, +slipping her arm about me. +</p> + +<p> +This shewed me more than any other happening how precarious my +position was, for though neither Angélique, nor her mother, nor M. +de Montcalm, would now mention my identity, any of them might +already have spoken of my brother. M. de Sarennes knew my secret, +and Hugh might discover it at any moment. +</p> + +<p> +When the Marquis left, Mme. de Sarennes no longer made an effort +to contain her indignation. +</p> + +<p> +“They are all alike!” she burst forth. “They make not the slightest +effort to understand us, nor to do aught but amuse themselves. You +are quite right, Marguerite, to refuse to have any part in their +gaieties! I shall never urge you again. To talk of balls and routs +and gaming as necessities, when the people are starving within our +very walls! +</p> + +<p> +“What wonder is it our husbands and brothers and sons say these +fainéants care naught what becomes of the country or the people, +so long as they gain some little distinction which may entitle them +to an early return and an empty decoration! They have neither pity, +nor faith, nor the slightest interest in the cause for which they +are fighting. +</p> + +<p> +“If M. de Vaudreuil, whom they pretend to despise, were permitted +to take the field himself, with a few thousand good Canadians behind +him, we would hear a different story. Think you if my son had been +permitted to reach Louisbourg it would have fallen? No, a thousand +times no! And it is the same elsewhere. Who repulsed the English +charge at Carillon? The Canadians. Who brings every important +piece of news of the enemy? Some despised Canadian. Who know how +to fight and how to handle themselves in the woods? Canadians, and +only Canadians! And these are the men they affect to despise! And +it is Canadian wives and sisters and daughters—more shame to +them!—who lay themselves out to amuse and to be talked about by +these same disdainful gentry! +</p> + +<p> +“Go to your room, mademoiselle!” she ended, turning on Angélique. +“I will hear nothing of your doings among a clique I despise from +top to bottom;” and the indignant old lady stopped, worn out for +very lack of breath, while Angélique made a little laughing grimace +at me and fled. +</p> + +<p> +The indictment was severe, but there was much truth in it at the +same time. The condition of the people was pitiable in the extreme. +Provisions were at ruinous prices, the wretched paper money was +almost worthless, and even the officers were beggared by their +necessary expenses. At the opening of the New Year the Intendance +was invaded by a crowd of desperate women clamouring for relief, +and the address of M. Bigot in ridding himself of his unwelcome +visitors was laughed at as a joke. Worse than this, no attempt +was made to lessen or even hide the gaieties that went on, play +was as high and as ruinous as ever, and the town was all agog over +the report of a ball to be given with unusual splendour by the +Intendant on Twelfth-Night. It was true that he made a daily +distribution of food at his doors, that he spake pleasant and +reassuring words to the suffering people, that he even permitted +the respectably dressed among them to enter and view his guests +from the gallery of his ball-room, but this did but serve to +intensify the bitterness and indignation of those who stood apart +from him and his following. It would be unjust to brand M. de +Montcalm, and perhaps others, as willing participants in these +excesses; on account of their position, their presence at all formal +entertainments was a necessity, and certainly the town offered no +distraction of any other nature whatsoever. +</p> + +<p> +Our inquiries had so far failed in discovering any trace of Lucy's +whereabouts, and yet I felt certain she was in or about Quebec, +and as she had acquired enough French to make her wants known, and +was provided with money sufficient to meet them, we held it likely +she was in some family, but probably seldom stirred abroad for fear +she might be recognised and prevented from keeping her patient +watch. +</p> + +<p> +At length the great event of the winter came on—the ball at the +Intendance on Twelfth-Night. Angélique was all impatience for the +evening, and, when dressed, her excitement added to the charm of +her girlish beauty. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you would come, Marguerite!” she exclaimed, longingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I would like to, chérie, if only to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And to see M. de Maxwell too. I should like you to see him. I +assure you one does not see such a man every day. He has such brown +eyes; they do not sparkle, but they are deep. He has lovely hands, +as well cared for as a woman's, but strong and masterful, I am +sure. He has a fine foot and a well-turned leg. That is nearly +all—except his smile; he smiles, and you think he is smiling for +you alone—and when he speaks, you are sure of it! Such a low, +sweet voice! You are always certain he is never thinking of any +one else when you are listening to it. And he dresses—plainly, +perhaps—but it is perfection for him. But there—I must run; Denis +has been at the door for an hour,” and, kissing me affectionately, +she hurried off. +</p> + +<p> +It was well for me she did so, for I could not have listened to +her light-hearted babble longer without betraying myself. When I +closed the door behind her, and had spent half an hour with Mme. +de Sarennes, I regained my room overwhelmed by the storm of emotions +raised within me. “Oh, why cannot I see him, I, of all women in +the world?” I cried, aloud, and the words set free my tears to +relieve me. As I regained control of myself I caught sight of +Angélique's pretty fan, on my table, forgotten in her hurry; and +the moment I saw it a plan flashed before me, and I determined to +see with my own eyes what I had so long pictured in my heart. +</p> + +<p> +Bathing my face until every trace of my outburst was removed, I +dressed myself, and taking a large blue cloak with a hood, which +might be worn by either a lady or her servant, I picked up the fan +and stole quietly out into the street. +</p> + +<p> +It was a beautiful, soft night, without a moon, and I went down by +the rue St. Jean and the Palace Hill without interruption, and, +passing beyond the walls, went straight to the Intendance, which +was all aglow with light, and surrounded by a gaping crowd. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly passing through the people, and saying to the grenadier on +guard at the gate, “For Mademoiselle de Sarennes,” I was admitted +to the court-yard, and passed the lackeys at the entrance with the +same password. +</p> + +<p> +Singling out one who looked civil, I drew him aside. +</p> + +<p> +“I bring this fan for Mademoiselle de Sarennes, but I wish, now +that I am here, to have a look at the ball. Is there any place +where I can go besides the gallery?” +</p> + +<p> +“Perfectly, mademoiselle; I can shew you just the place. You were +lucky in coming to me. Do you know me?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” I answered, willing to flatter him; “but you look as if you +would know what I want.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aha!” he exclaimed, pluming himself. “You were right, perfectly +right. You have only to follow me,” and he led the way down the +corridor, and, unlocking a door, he motioned me to enter. I drew +back as a rush of music and voices and the warm air of the ball-room +swept out. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be afraid,” he whispered, “this is curtained off. You can +stay here for an hour if you like, no one will come through before +then; only, when you leave, be sure and turn the key again, and +bring it to me.” +</p> + +<p> +I thanked him, and he left, closing the door noiselessly behind +him; and then approaching the curtains, I carefully parted them, +and looked out on the ball-room. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></h2> + +<p> +I AWAKE FROM MY DREAM +</p> + +<p> +It was a scene that would have done credit to a much larger centre +than Quebec. It is true the walls were bare of any fitting decoration, +the windows too small to break them with any effect, the chandeliers +mean in size, and the sconces but makeshifts; still, the room was +imposing in its proportions and the company brilliant. +</p> + +<p> +I recognised the Intendant without difficulty. He was a small man, +delicately formed, and wore his dark red hair with but little +powder. He was most handsomely dressed, his carriage was dignified +and easy, and the charm of which Angélique had spoken was at once +apparent; I quite understood how one might forget the plain, sickly +face, marked by the traces of excess, for it was frank and open, +and one could not but acknowledge its strength. +</p> + +<p> +I saw, too, M. Poulariez, looking very handsome in his new white +uniform of the Royal Rouissillon; the Major Joannès, and others +whom Angélique had described, or we had seen from our windows on +their way to one or other of the three divinities of the rue du +Parloir. They were all there, vying with each other, Mme. de +Lanaudière, Mme. de Beaubassin, and Mme. Péan, and though their +dresses were doubtless far behind the mode, they were all three +noticeable women, and dressed with discretion. +</p> + +<p> +At the opposite end were the musicians, whose efforts were +surprisingly good; and in a long gallery down one side stood the +onlookers, crowding it to its utmost capacity. Angélique sate the +centre of an animated group at no great distance from where I was +hidden, and her evident delight in the merry trifling that went on +about her made a charming picture; but he whom I sought was not +one of the little court before her, and I scanned the room eagerly. +For the first time I realised that he might be changed; that I had +changed much myself—for ten years is a long time out of one's +life—and with a pang I thought of Angélique's girlish freshness, +and wished I could have remained eighteen for his sake. +</p> + +<p> +At last! My heart leaped within me, and my eyes swam so I could +hardly see, for there was Hugh, the one and only love of my life! +“Oh, Hugh! Hugh! my darling!” I murmured, forgetful of all, save +that my dreamings had come true, and my eyes had been granted their +desire. +</p> + +<p> +He was coming slowly down the room, making his way gracefully +through the crowd, bowing and occasionally speaking to other guests +as he passed. It pained me to see how thin and worn his face had +grown; but, if anything, it was handsomer than ever, though, like +that of most of the officers, it was too brown from constant +exposure. How could Angélique call him old? For his figure was as +light and graceful as I ever pictured it, and his bearing as perfect +as of yore. He was not in uniform, but was fittingly dressed in a +puce-coloured coat, relieved with narrow silver braid, and his +white satin waistcoat and small-clothes were ornamented in the same +manner. +</p> + +<p> +He came directly up to where Angélique sate, and, bowing low, +answered her lively greeting with his winning smile, and I could +almost catch the soft tones of his voice where I stood. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0190-large.jpg" name="picture-0190"> + <img src="images/picture-0190-small.jpg" + alt="And bowing low, answered her lively greeting."/></a> + +<p> +Presently she rose, and dismissing her court with a laughing bow, +they moved down the room together, and as they did so my love +followed them, sweeping all doubts aside, and I fell to defending +him against myself with all my soul. I had never read that letter +aright. Should I not have remembered that such a man could never +hurt a woman? It was an impossibility for him to have written me +direct; and had he not, through the very hands of my enemy, sent +me effective warning not to intrust myself to his treacherous +guidance?—“Keep the lady claiming to be my wife at such, a distance +that I may never set eyes on her again.” Could anything be plainer +or better conceived? If he had denied being married, his letter +could have carried no message for me, and would have placed me in +even a worse position. It was through my own pride and stupidity +that I had blundered into denying the marriage, and so had thrown +myself into the power of Sarennes. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-evening, mademoiselle,” whispered a voice; and I faced about, +trembling with sudden terror, to find M. de Sarennes close behind me. +</p> + +<p> +“Good-evening, mademoiselle,” he repeated, smiling at my dismay. +“You did not expect to see me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did not know you were in Quebec,” I gasped, trying hard to +recover my self-control. +</p> + +<p> +“Nor did any one else, save your friend M. de Montcalm; I arrived +an hour ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did you know I was here?” I asked, to gain time. +</p> + +<p> +“I guessed whither you had been drawn when I did not find you at +the house, and a crown to the right lackey brought me here. And +now, with your permission, we will finish that conversation your +friend the Jesuit interrupted more than six months ago. No, you +dare not cry out; and see, I have the key. You are more alone with +me here than in the woods at Beaulieu,” and he smiled with an air +of triumph that made me desperate. +</p> + +<p> +“It is useless to attempt to frighten me, monsieur,” I said, boldly. +“I am among friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed? And you count this Chevalier de Maxwell among them?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do; for now I understand the letter he sent.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask in what way?” +</p> + +<p> +“In the way of a warning not to trust myself to a man in whom he +had no confidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah! He has explained this to you himself?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, monsieur; it was my own fault I did not see it at the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you answer me one question truthfully? Have you seen M. de +Maxwell? You will not answer? Then your silence speaks for you. +Now if this letter had been sent with the meaning you pretend to +put upon it, do you not think M. de Maxwell would have sought you +out in a little place like Quebec, where he has no other occupation +on his hands than to win enough at pharaon to dress himself for +such duties as these?” he said, contemptuously, as he waved his +hand towards the ball-room; and with the sneering words my defence +of a few moments before was in the dust. “You have seen him here,” +he went on, when he marked the effect of his words. “Does he look +like a man who is eating his heart out; or like one who is free of +a burthen and trying to enjoy the present? Marguerite, listen to +me! For your sake I have braved disgrace and perhaps ruin; for your +sake I would go through it again—” +</p> + +<p> +“How dare you speak to me thus, monsieur!” I interrupted. “You +insult me beyond endurance when you dare to say I ever inspired +any man to be a traitor and a coward.” +</p> + +<p> +“By God!” he muttered, “have a care lest I strike you! There are +some things I cannot stand, even from you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Strike! I would rather that than anything else from you.” +</p> + +<p> +He glared at me fiercely for a moment, then suddenly changing, he +whispered, entreatingly: “Marguerite, do not tempt me thus. Do not +bring out all that is worst in me. You know I love you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not have your love; it is hateful to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should my love be hateful? It is not different from that of +other men! It is as strong—so strong that I cannot master it. It +is as tender, if you will but answer it. It is not to be despised, +for I have never offered it to another; and as for myself, God made +me as I am.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not have your love, M. de Sarennes. I will not answer it, +and you degrade it when you would force it on me. Go, and leave me +in peace!” +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, you know nothing of my love. It counts neither insult +nor rejection. If you will have it in no other way, let me at least +serve you. Let me take up your quarrel.” +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“This Maxwell. Say so, and I will hunt him down, and never leave +him until you are revenged.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad, monsieur?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, mademoiselle, I am not mad! But are you shameless?” +</p> + +<p> +Trembling with indignation, I drew my cloak about me, and sweeping +aside the curtain, I stepped out on the floor of the lighted +ball-room. As I passed, the curtain caught my hood, and, to my +annoyance, it fell back from my head. The full glare of the light +was dazzling, and I was bewildered and confused, but I kept my eyes +fixed on the doorway and walked swiftly towards it. No one spake +to me, or uttered any exclamation of surprise. Two gentlemen +stepped apart as I advanced to allow me free passage, and I had +just gained the entrance when I came face to face with the Marquis +de Montcalm. +</p> + +<p> +Without the slightest hesitation he bowed, and at once stepped back +into the corridor with me. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, madame, you should have been on the floor, and not in the +gallery. This ball promises to be amusing, and you are running away +before it has fairly begun.” Seeing I was too embarrassed to reply, +he continued with perfect savoir-faire a conversation made up of +nothings, leading me down the long corridor away from curious eyes +as he did so, until I was able to say, with decency: +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, a thousand thanks for your timely attention, but I must +return. I have been over-long already.” +</p> + +<p> +At this moment M. de Sarennes approached from the opposite direction, +and bowing, as if he had met me for the first time that evening, +said, after saluting the Marquis, “My mother grows anxious at your +stay, madame, and has deputed me to be your escort.” +</p> + +<p> +But he counted too far on my cowardice, and had no knowledge of +how far a woman will trust an honourable man. The Marquis, never +doubting his good faith, had already fallen back a step, when I +turned to him and said, quietly, +</p> + +<p> +“Monsieur, it is quite impossible for me to accept this gentleman's +offer, but I shall be grateful if you will provide me with a +different escort.” +</p> + +<p> +“There is not the slightest difficulty in that. M. de Sarennes, I +must ask you to remain in attendance here, as I will not have +another opportunity of seeing you before you start for Montreal in +the morning. I will join you within presently;” and he dismissed +the angry man with a formal little bow, as if unconscious of anything +unusual. Beckoning to a servant, he ordered him to find M. Joannès, +and bid him meet us at the entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“I am heartily glad, madame,” he said, when we were alone, “that +you had the confidence to appeal to me. I shall take means to keep +M. de Sarennes so busily employed that he will have no further +opportunity of annoying you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am very grateful, monsieur, and would never have troubled you +could I have seen any other way of escape.” +</p> + +<p> +“'Tutto è bene che riesce bene,' which is the extent of my Italian, +madame; but here is M. Joannès. M. Joannès,” he continued, to the +merry little officer, “you have already had the pleasure of meeting +Mme. de St. Just; you now can render her a service.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sure madame has confidence in me; she saw how I had provided +the wine when it was essential we should wish her bon voyage off +Cap Tourmente.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good! The present service only differs in kind. Will you order +my cariole, and see her safely to Mme. de Sarennes's?” +</p> + +<p> +“With all the pleasure in the world, mon général,” and he bowed +and hurried off to order the sleigh. In a few moments we whirled +out of the court-yard and were driving rapidly up Palace Hill. +</p> + +<p> +M. Joannès chattered incessantly, which was the very spur I most +needed. His open friendliness and my sure confidence in the protection +of M. de Montcalm gave me a feeling of safety against any attempt +on the part of M. de Sarennes that was perfectly reassuring, and +I slept that night without a fear, in spite of what I had gone +through, until awakened by Angélique as the day was breaking. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Marguerite, for shame! To think of your being at the ball and +never letting me know!” she cried, to my consternation; but added, +immediately: “I'm glad you went, though. Didn't we all look fine?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very fine, and I admired you most of all the women, chérie.” +</p> + +<p> +“Flatterer! You made a fine stir yourself when you crossed the +floor. I wish I had seen you, and I would have captured you, then +and there! Did you not know you could have gone round by the +passage?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is the way I came; but when I wished to go, the door was +locked,” I answered, boldly, as I saw she suspected nothing. +</p> + +<p> +“I guessed who it was the moment they spoke of your hair; but I +told no one, not even M. de Maxwell. Did you see him? He wore a +brown coat laced with silver, and we were at your end of the room, +I suppose, while you were there.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, chérie, I saw him when he first came to you.” +</p> + +<p> +“And am I not right? Has he not le bel air?” +</p> + +<p> +“He certainly has.” +</p> + +<p> +“But who else in the world do you think was there? You will never +guess. Charles! He was on his way to Montreal, and came to the ball +only to see me in my finery, he said. Not every brother would do +that, let me tell you! and he is off the first thing this morning +without ever coming to the house. Now I must be off to bed; I +couldn't help waking you to tell you my news;” and she kissed me +and went to dream of her pleasures. +</p> + +<p> +The following afternoon we went to the Jesuits for benediction—to +me the sweetest service of the day. It was already growing dark as +we entered. Within, the narrow windows broke the blackness of the +walls with their slits of dull gray, and the worshippers sate or +knelt in the twilight, a shadowy throng, over which the twinkling +flood of light from countless tapers on the altar broke in yellow +softness. +</p> + +<p> +The peaceful, tender service was in perfect harmony with the quiet +of the evening, and I felt my heart filled with a great comfort; +when suddenly from the loft behind us, where the musicians stood, +floated out the familiar words, +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">Tantum ergo sacramentum</span> + <span class="i0">Veneremur cernui...</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +and I sank trembling to my knees, for the voice to me was as the +voice of an angel—it was Hugh's! I covered my face with my hands +and wept silent, blessed tears of joy, while the beautiful hymn +thrilled through my very soul. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0198-large.jpg" name="picture-0198"> + <img src="images/picture-0198-small.jpg" + alt="Tantum ergo sacramentum Veneremur cernui..."/></a> + +<p> +“It is M. de Maxwell,” whispered Angélique; but I could make no +answer. +</p> + +<p> +As I walked home with Angélique, her enthusiastic praise of Hugh +stirred in me no spark of resentment, much less of jealousy; her +satisfaction that I should have seen and admired was so honest and +open, and the glimpse I had caught of his bearing towards her was +so reassuring, that I was undisturbed. In spite of the truculent +suggestions of M. de Sarennes, and even in the face of my own doubts +and fears and pride, I was so won back to the old dreamings, so +reawakened to the old longings, that I felt nothing less than his +own words could ever satisfy me that I had been mistaken. After +all, I could not see that I ran any serious risk in meeting him; +in such a place as Quebec it was likely to happen at any moment; +and surely it were better to take place when I was prepared. At +the worst, my position as Mme. de St. Just would still serve to +stand between us, and I felt assured I could rely on his forbearance. +</p> + +<p> +However, I was not suffered to come to any conclusion, for Mme. de +Sarennes met us as we entered, with tidings that drove everything +else out of my head for the moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, I have news for you. La mère de Ste. Hélène sends +word, saying an Englishwoman has been brought to the Hôtel-Dieu, +and from the description I believe her to be Lucie. Do you both go +at once and ascertain.” +</p> + +<p> +We hurried off in great excitement, and an interview with the +Superior satisfied us that the patient was indeed my poor Lucy. +She had been found that very morning, wandering in a benumbed and +dazed condition on the road by the St. Charles, by a habitant coming +with his load to early market, and as he had business at the +Hôtel-Dieu, he had carried her there and given her in charge of +the nuns. She was much exhausted by cold and fasting, but sleep +and food had restored her to consciousness, and, on finding she +was English, they had at once sent us word. +</p> + +<p> +“If you wish, you may see her now, madame,” said the Superior. “And +if we are right, it will serve to reassure her, for she is much +troubled at being detained here.” +</p> + +<p> +Thanking her, I took my way in charge of a sister, and quietly +entered the sick-room. The first glance at the frail face on the +pillow told me our search had ended, and there was instant recognition +in the eyes that met mine. I was by her bedside in a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, my dear mistress!” she sobbed. “It was wicked of me to desert +you, but I did not understand where you had gone.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no, Lucy; I am the one to be forgiven. I should never have +left you; but now we are together again, and when you are well +nothing shall part us.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you stay with me now? I am afraid here! It is all so strange, +and I am not well,” she ended, pitifully. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Lucy, I will stay. But first I must ask permission, and send +word to Mme. de Sarennes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you say to her that I am sorry?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear; but no one is blaming you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are all good,” she said, with a sigh of content; and I ran +off to obtain a ready approval of my stay from both the Superior +and Angélique, who promised to return on the morrow. +</p> + +<p> +My presence was all that was needed to quiet Lucy, and she passed +a restful night, to awaken so greatly improved that she readily +talked of her wanderings. It was much as I had suspected; M. de +Sarennes had wilfully encouraged and deceived her, feeding her +delusion at every opportunity, even giving her directions for her +road, in the evident intent of getting her out of the way, to have +a freer hand in his designs. It was a relief to find that every +one had treated her with kindness, and that she had found a shelter +in St. Roch, with a widow, who was thankful for the trifle she paid +for her lodging. Once she reached Quebec she was quite content, +for she had only to wait until Christopher might appear. She gave +no reason why she was wandering out by the St. Charles, and I did +not question her; but no doubt she had really been ill for days, +and was not fully conscious of her action. +</p> + +<p> +Mme. de Sarennes came with Angélique in the morning, and it was +touching to see how lively an interest this quiet Lucy had awakened +in both their hearts. +</p> + +<p> +“You are in good hands, my dear,” said the old lady, graciously. +“Show your gratitude by getting well and coming back to us.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will do my best, madame. God has been very good to me,” she +answered, in halting French; whereupon Mme. de Sarennes patted her +cheek, and left to speak with her friend the Superior. +</p> + +<p> +As she was going, Angélique beckoned me into the corridor, and +whispered: “I was thinking last night that we might ask M. de +Maxwell to come and give her news of her boy when he was in +Louisbourg. You know Charles told us he was much with him there, +and I am sure my mother can obtain leave from the Superior. What +do you think?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it would do her more good than anything else in the world, +We will ask her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Lucie,” asked Angélique, “would you like me to bring a gentleman +who was in Louisbourg, and who can give you news of Christophe when +he was there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes, mademoiselle; I should love it above all things,” she +answered, with a flush of joy over her pale face. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well; we will come to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +There was every reason, for Lucy's sake, why Hugh should come, and +in my heart I longed to see him again before I determined on my +own course of action. It was a pleasing thought, too, that I should +see him comforting one to whom it would mean so much. +</p> + +<p> +The morrow was a long day for both of us, and at four o'clock, just +as it was growing dusk, I sate by her bed, listening anxiously to +every footfall in the corridor, until at last I caught Angélique's +light step, followed by a firmer tread, which I recognised at once. +</p> + +<p> +It would be hard to tell whether Lucy or I was the more excited. +</p> + +<p> +“Be calm, Lucy,” I whispered, laying a trembling hand on hers; and +I drew my chair up to the head of the bed, so that I was completely +hidden by its white curtain. +</p> + +<p> +“Lucie,” said Angélique, on entering, “I have brought my friend. +Shall he come in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, mademoiselle,” answered Lucy, in an expectant voice. +</p> + +<p> +I heard Angélique go towards the door, and then heard Hugh enter. +I caught the arms of my chair tightly as he approached the bed, +when, to my amazement, I felt that Lucy had raised herself, and +the next instant she cried, in a voice strained in agony: +</p> + +<p> +“Hugh Maxwell! What have you done with our son?” +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></h2> + +<p> +I AM TORTURED BY MYSELF AND OTHERS +</p> + +<p> +In some manner I controlled myself, and in the confusion which +followed Lucy's wild cry I opened the door beside me and stepped +noiselessly into the adjoining room. +</p> + +<p> +I sank down into a chair, benumbed in body and bewildered in mind. +Everything was in a whirl of confusion, and through it I heard the +heart-breaking cry that was no hallucination of madness, no fancy +of a disordered mind, but an arraignment straight from the heart +of a woman who perhaps had suffered beyond what I was suffering +now. +</p> + +<p> +What was happening behind those closed doors? Once the mad impulse +flashed across me to enter and learn the worst, but I shrank appalled +at the thought of exposing myself to further humiliation. In my +seeking for some escape, I even questioned if I had heard aright; +it seemed impossible that there should not be some explanation, +that there was not some horrible mistake, and a fierce anger swept +over me at the injustice of it all. +</p> + +<p> +Had I wasted the love of my youth—the love of my life—on a man +whom I had endowed with every noble quality of which I could conceive +to find that he was only of the same common clay as others whose +advances I had ignored because I had set him so high? +</p> + +<p> +In my anger I put him beneath all others, because, as a silly girl, +I had been blinded by my own delusions, and, as a foolish woman, +I had gone on dreaming the dreams of a girl. The thought, too, of +Lucy having been so close to me all these months, and of how nearly +I had confided in her, stung me like a blow. +</p> + +<p> +And this was the end! I had wasted every affection of my nature in +blind worship of the idol which now lay shattered at the first +blow. I had wandered with reckless feet far from the path in which +all prudent women tread, to find myself in a wilderness alone and +without a refuge. My secret was in the keeping of Sarennes, who +would sooner or later betray it, when he thought by so doing he +could bend me to his will. +</p> + +<p> +Why had I never looked at this with the same eyes, the same brain +I had used in other matters? In other matters I had conducted myself +as a reasonable woman should; but in this, the weightiest affair +in my life, had I wandered, without sane thought, without any guide +save impulses so unreasoning that they could scarce have even swayed +my judgment in other things. +</p> + +<p> +Then, my anger having passed, I saw the whole incredible folly of +my life, and alone and in bitter misery I trod the Valley of +Humiliation, until with wearied soul and softened heart I knelt +and prayed for deliverance. +</p> + +<p> +When I returned to the house the effort to meet and talk with others +did much to restore me to myself. Angélique, I could see, was +greatly excited, and it was a pain to think that what to me was a +bitter degradation and the wreck of all my hopes could possibly be +looked upon by a young and innocent girl as a piece of curious +surmisal, perhaps to be laughed over and speculated upon, without +a thought of the misery it entailed. +</p> + +<p> +In my room that night I reasoned out my whole position calmly from +the beginning, and with a chilling fear I saw myself confronted by +a new humiliation. +</p> + +<p> +Had I not in my infatuation misconstrued every little kindness on +the part of Hugh, every expression of sympathy and of ordinary +courtesy, nay, every smile, and look, and word, into a language +which existed only in my credulous imagination? Had he ever spoken +a single word of love to me? Had he not even refused to answer my +girlish appeal to him at our parting? Was it, then, possible that +I was not only in a false position now, but that I had throughout +been playing that most contemptible of all rôles—the infatuated +woman who imagines herself beloved by one indifferent to her? I +was overwhelmed with shame at the thought, still, turn it as I +might, I could not see that it admitted of any other conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +Yet ignominious as it all was, it must be faced, for it was impossible +that I should go on lamenting or living in the misery of constant +self-reproach. If I had had the courage to defy the world in my +Quixote endeavour to right the supposed wrongs of another, should +I not put forth some measure of the same courage to protect myself? +Because I had met with a disaster humbling to my self-respect and +pride, surely I was not forced to proclaim my own defeat to the +world, and thus add ridicule to humiliation. Cost what it might, +I determined to put forth every endeavour to prevent Hugh even +suspecting the true motive of my presence in Canada until the time +should come when I might return in safety. +</p> + +<p> +It cost me an effort to return to Lucy. I had almost a dislike to +see her again, but my pride came to my support, and, when I went, +I saw I had exaggerated the difficulty, for I found a different +creature awaiting me. Whatever suffering I had gone through, it +was clear this poor soul had gained some great relief, and my +selfishness was not proof against her content. She had forgotten +that I had been beside her when Hugh had entered. The greatness +of his revelation, whatever it had been, had swept away all smaller +things, and she lay there with a new light in her face, but as +quiet and self-contained as before. Had she spoken, I could not +have borne it. +</p> + +<p> +My courage in respect to Hugh was not immediately put to the proof, +as he had been ordered off to Montreal, there to join M. de Lévis +as aide-de-camp, and I had both time and freedom for decision. +</p> + +<p> +Much to Angélique's delight, I now accompanied her to all the balls +and junketings that went on, for I had nothing further to fear, +and, alas, nothing to hope. M. de Montcalm and the others received +me with warm welcome, and made a small ovation over my appearance. +</p> + +<p> +I suffered, however, as is often the case with a newcomer in a +small society, from the stupid jealousy of some of the women, who +resented my appearance as an intruder, and who more than once +started reports as to my position, which were rendered the more +persistent on account of the open championship of M. de Montcalm. +</p> + +<p> +At first I thought little of this petty annoyance, but was not +prepared for the length to which some were willing to carry it. +</p> + +<p> +Late one afternoon Angélique burst in upon me in a storm of +indignation: +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, I am ashamed of my countrywomen! There has been a +scene this afternoon at Mme. de Beaubassin's which went beyond all +limits of decency. Neither your position as a stranger nor mine as +your friend was respected. It is horrible what animals women can +be when once they begin! Let me tell you what has happened, and +see if I am wrong! +</p> + +<p> +“Mme. de Beaubassin, who cannot bear that any one should have any +attraction for the Marquis save herself, made some malicious remark +about you before M. Poulariez. +</p> + +<p> +“'O, de grâce! madame,' he exclaimed; 'surely you are going too +far!' +</p> + +<p> +“'Can you answer for her, then, monsieur?' she returned, wickedly. +'Perhaps you can tell me who la belle Écossaise really is? +</p> + +<p> +“'I will answer for her,' broke in the little Joannès, whom I love, +because he is so dreadfully in earnest over everything—'I will +answer for her! I lost four hundred good crowns at pharaon last +night, but I will wager four hundred more with any lady in the +room, or I will cross swords with any gentleman in Quebec, for the +fair fame of Mme. de St. Just at any moment. I know that she is +intimate with one of the oldest friends of M. de Montcalm, that he +knows her family, and I know that she is one of the most charming +creatures I ever set eyes on!' Marguerite, I could have kissed him, +he was so gallant! +</p> + +<p> +“'Then, M. Joannès, since you are so fully informed, perhaps you +will explain the whereabouts of Monsieur de St. Just! Perhaps you +will tell us why the lady was so anxious to get into Louisbourg +before the siege! Perhaps you know why she went to the ball on +Twelfth-Night in disguise! Perhaps it is clear to you why, after +refusing to meet any of us, she now goes everywhere, and seeks the +confidence of M. de Montcalm and other high officers when the plans +for the coming campaign are under discussion! That she is a +Scotchwoman she states, but I have not remarked that she is intimate +with her countryman, M. de Maxwell, of whose loyalty no one has +any doubt.' +</p> + +<p> +“'Neither have I any doubt that Mme. de St. Just has her own reasons +for choosing her acquaintance, madame,' answered M. Joannès, with +the same spirit. 'But I do not see that anything is to be gained +by continuing this conversation; the main thing is that I know Mme. +de St. Just to be a lady of both family and position.' +</p> + +<p> +“'Do you happen to know that her brother is a captain in the English +army?' +</p> + +<p> +“'I have known it for mouths past, madame. What of it' +</p> + +<p> +“'And that he was a prisoner in Louisbourg?' +</p> + +<p> +“'Certainly; no secret has been made of it,' he answered, as cool +as a boy at his catechism. +</p> + +<p> +“She seemed much put but at this rebuff, but turned towards the +others and went on, angrily: +</p> + +<p> +“'Of course a woman has no right to an opinion in the face of such +an authority as M. Joannès, but I am sure so patriotic a brother +will be interested in such a sister's letters, and that the authentic +news she may send from Quebec cannot fail to be of interest to his +superiors. It may be the part of an affectionate sister, ambitious +for her brother's advancement, but hardly that of a friend to be +encouraged by us. There! That is what I believe; and if you others +are too blind to see behind a pretty face and a disconsolate manner, +so much the worse for us all.' +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, my dear, there wasn't a man in the room who didn't +protest against her ungenerous suspicions. I was proud of them +all! But none of the women said a word, and the spiteful little +creature stuck to her ground, vowing she would speak to the Marquis, +so that he, at least, should not be unwarned. +</p> + +<p> +“I waited until she was done, for I was determined to hear the end, +and then I said: +</p> + +<p> +“'Mme. de Beaubassin, I have not spoken because I am only a girl, +and neither my mother's hospitality, nor my mother's guest, requires +any defence from me; I trust both implicitly. Our thanks and those +of Mme. de St. Just, our friend, are due to every gentleman in +the room. I was under some obligation to you, madame, for your +attentions to me in the past, but you have more than cancelled them +now, and I will not enter your door again until you have apologised +to us all.' +</p> + +<p> +“'My dear child,' she said, with her hateful smile, 'you are young, +but time will correct that, as well as your breeding and your +judgment; until then I shall miss your society, but will pray for +your enlightenment.' +</p> + +<p> +“Did you ever hear anything so abominable! M. Poulariez gave me +his hand, and the dear little Joannès followed us to the door, +whispering: +</p> + +<p> +“'Brava! Brava, mademoiselle! It was excellent! You could not have +said better!' +</p> + +<p> +“Now what will you do, Marguerite?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is nothing to do, chérie; such things must die of themselves.” +</p> + +<p> +“But she said you were a spy, in so many words.” +</p> + +<p> +“You do not think so?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Marguerite!” she cried, as she jumped up and strained me to +her, covering me with kisses. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, neither does your mother, nor M. de Montcalm, nor any of +the gentlemen who defended me this afternoon. My only regret is +that I should be the cause of annoyance to such friends.” +</p> + +<p> +Though I spake bravely enough, I could not but feel the effect of +such a report, nor fail to recognise there was oftentimes a galling +restraint on my appearance, which was only aggravated by the too +evident efforts of my champions towards its dissipation. +</p> + +<p> +But all such social jealousies and plottings were scattered by the +approach of spring, when an unending activity pervaded all classes +throughout the colony. The arrival of the first ships was looked +for with anxiety, as they would bring the message of peace, or +renewed hostilities, which to me meant either escape or a continuance +of my difficulties. +</p> + +<p> +It was M. Joannès who brought me the news: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, it seems it is to be war! But instead of money, they +have sent us some scanty provisions; and instead of a regiment, +some raw recruits to drag out this weary farce, already too long.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry you do not look at it more hopefully, monsieur.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I? Think what has happened since last spring. Louisbourg, +Frontenac, Duquesne, all lost; famine in our towns; misery in the +country; an insane jealousy on the part of the officials which +thwarts every move we suggest; corruption to an extent that is +almost beyond belief, and on every side of us an active, strong, +and enthusiastic enemy. That is the only quarter where we look for +fair play!” he ended, with the laugh of a boy who sees his sport +before him. +</p> + +<p> +It was impossible that I should plan for return before we saw what +move the English might make by sea, so I abandoned all thought of +it, and settled down to await the outcome. +</p> + +<p> +At the beginning of June volunteers gathered from the upper parishes, +and with the militia and troops from Montreal, crossed over the +St. Charles to take their places in the camp where M. de Lévis had +already projected his works. Day after day we watched the men +toiling, and presently our lines of defence began to creep slowly +out along the shores of Beauport. +</p> + +<p> +That Hugh was there I knew, but I kept myself from thinking by my +daily attendance on Lucy, whose unfailing hope saw its fulfilment +almost within touch when I told her of the certain coming of the +English. Gay parties of chattering women were made up to go out to +the camp and encourage the workers, but my heart ached too wearily +even at my own distance to wish for any nearer approach. +</p> + +<p> +I stood with Angélique one evening in the garden of the Hôtel-Dieu, +and even here the engineers had erected a battery overhanging the +steep cliff. Looking up towards the left, we could see the bridge +of boats, at the far end of which a hive of busy workers toiled at +a fortification, called a hornwork, while immediately below us +others were building a boom to be floated across the wide mouth of +the St. Charles to protect the bridge, and from this point on, down +the banks of the St. Lawrence, lay our main defences. +</p> + +<p> +There the white coats of the regulars mingled with the blue and +grey of the Canadians and volunteers. Indians stalked or squatted +about, taking no part in a labour they could not understand; officers +moved to and fro, directing and encouraging the men, and from the +manor of Beauport floated the General's flag, marking his +headquarters. +</p> + +<p> +Before this restless, toiling mass swept the great empty river, +changing its colour with every change of sky which floated over +it, while behind stretched the beautiful valley of the St. Charles, +its gentle upward sweep of woods broken only by the green fields +and white walls of Charlesbourg until it met the range of blue and +purple hills which guards it to the north. At a point opposite +where we were standing the nearer mountains opened out and shewed +a succession of golden hills which seemed, in the tender evening +light, as the gates of some heavenly country where all was peace, +and the rumour of war could never enter. +</p> + +<p> +At length all preparations were complete, and we waited impatiently +for the drama to begin. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the end of June the first English ships were reported, and +on the evening of the twenty-second an excited group of ladies +gathered on the Battery of the Hôtel-Dieu, and through a storm +which swept down over the hills, amid the flashing of lightning +and to the roar of thunder, we watched their fleet silently file +into view in the South Channel, and come to anchor under shelter +of the Isle of Orleans. In the chapel the nuns were singing: +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Soutenez, grande Reine,</span> + <span class="i1">Notre pauvre pays:</span> + <span class="i0">Il est votre domaine.</span> + <span class="i1">Faites fleurir nos lis.</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“L'Anglois sur nos frontières</span> + <span class="i1">Porte ses étendards.</span> + <span class="i0">Exaucez nos prières,</span> + <span class="i1">Protegez nos remparts.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +And as if in answer, one by one, our watch-fires were kindled, +until they twinkled in a long unbroken line from the St. Charles +to Montmorenci. +</p> + +<p> +The long siege had begun. Such an array of ships was never before +seen from the walls of Quebec. There were the flag-ships of Admirals +Saunders, Holmes, and Durell; twenty-three ships of the line, +besides frigates, transports, and a flock of smaller craft nestled +under shelter of the Island; all these crowded with ten or twelve +thousand troops under General Wolfe and his brigadiers, Monckton, +Townshend, and Murray, fresh from triumph, and determined on a +desperate effort for new conquest. +</p> + +<p> +Face to face with them stretched our long line of defenders, as +resolute and as confident—regulars, militia, Indians, and volunteers, +and in the ranks of the latter the grandfather stood by the grandson; +had the wives and daughters been permitted, many of them, I doubt +not, would have held a musket beside those dearest to them. +</p> + +<p> +On land and on water, there was constant change and movement; the +stately vessels moved slowly up and down, small boats plied backward +and forward, troops were landed where unopposed; on our side of +the river every eye was vigilant, guessing what each new move might +portend. No one could look upon it without a swifter-beating heart. +Before us swept all “the pomp and circumstance of war” without any +of its horror—as yet—and the panorama in which it was displayed +added to its dignity and importance. +</p> + +<p> +We became accustomed to the distant boom of heavy guns, and watched +the constant movement of the combatants with much excited comment +and foolish security. +</p> + +<p> +It was Gabriel who first brought us face to face with the reality. +We were surprised by his appearance at the house about the middle +of July; he looked twenty years older; all his former jauntiness +of manner had disappeared, and so dejected was his bearing I could +scarce believe it was the same man I had known. +</p> + +<p> +“Mesdames,” he said, “my respects to you all, though I come as a +bearer of bad tidings.” +</p> + +<p> +“No one expects compliments in time of war, Gabriel. Tell me it +is not my son, and you may speak freely,” said the brave old lady, +with a blanched face. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God, it is not! He came into camp only yesterday, with a +hundred good men behind him, so worn out that they are fitter for +the hospital than the field, but good food and rest will set them +right again in a week. Ah, madame,” he cried, with a sparkle of +his old air, “but he has tickled them rarely! Bedame! his name will +not smell sweet in their nostrils for many a long day!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then tell us your news, Gabriel; anything else is easily borne.” +</p> + +<p> +“'Un fou fait toujours commencement,' madame, and I know not how +to begin. But the English began with M. de Sarennes, and they found +him so little to their taste that they have ended by burning the +manor at Beaulieu level with the ground, and not a barn nor +out-building is left on the domaine.” +</p> + +<p> +“If their sons could give such cause for reprisal, there is not a +woman in Canada who would not be proud to suffer a like revenge,” +responded the old lady, with unfaltering voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not fear, madame, our day will come; and when it comes we will +all have our scores to wipe out. I know that I have mine!” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely they have not stooped to burn your cottage?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; it is safe; and so is my Amelia. My quarrel is on my own +account. They tricked me on board their fleet by flying our colours, +and carried me here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not dare to stand here and tell me that you piloted them!” +cried the old lady, with the utmost scorn. +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame, I did not.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you may go on,” she said, sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“I did not; but it makes little difference, madame.” +</p> + +<p> +“It makes every difference whether we are traitors or not! Go on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, madame, when I found I was trapped I made all the stir I +could. I blustered and swore, and, Heaven forgive me! I lied to +them as I had never lied before. I boasted like a Bostonnais, and +when they commanded me to take charge in the Traverse, I said no, +though I had a pistol behind my head and my Amelia before my eyes +all the time. But they did not blow my brains out—they only +laughed at me. Madame, it is dreadful to be ready to die, and find +they only laugh,” and the tears streamed down his rugged cheeks as +he spake. +</p> + +<p> +“My good Gabriel, we are proud of you! Go on!” +</p> + +<p> +“It was of no use; they had their boats out with flags to mark the +channel, and an old devil they called Killick swept me aside as +one might a dirty rag, and took command, calling out his directions +to the boats and edging the ship along without a mistake, though +I prayed with all my soul he might ground her. He was a sorcerer, +madame, for he took the ship up as if he had done nothing else all +his life. When they were through, they jeered at me in their damnable +English, and treated me with a kindness that was harder than blows; +and then, to add to my shame, they sent me on shore with the women +last week, as if they feared me just as little, which was worst of +all.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind, Gabriel. You did all that a brave man could—and the +siege is not over yet!” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true, madame,” he cried, brightening under her kindly +words, “and, saving your honour, 'le mulet garde longuement un coup +de pied à son maître,' as we say. That is my comfort.” +</p> + +<p> +“Will you join M. de Sarennes, Gabriel?” asked Mme. de Sarennes. +“I would like to think he had so good a man beside him.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, madame; I have orders to go on board the vessels at Sillery. +I will be of more use there than on shore.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good. You will remember Beaulieu when your turn comes with the +English!” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, madame, and if le bon Dieu ever allows me that kick, rest +assured it shall be a good one!” and he left us laughing, much +comforted in his trouble. +</p> + +<p> +Though never out of the sight and sound of war, we had so far +suffered but little in the city itself. We watched with curiosity +the English intrenching themselves on the opposite heights of the +Pointe de Lévy, and there was much speculation among us as to their +object. That the city would be bombarded was scouted as ridiculous; +but one midnight towards the end of June we were awakened by the +heavy booming of artillery, and rushed to our windows to see the +heights of the Lévy shore flashing with the explosions from the +cannon, and the hill beneath us filled with a panting, terror-stricken +crowd, laden with every conceivable description of household goods, +clambering up past us to gain some corner of safety, while the +flames from a shattered warehouse in the Basse Ville threw an +ominous glare over the blackness of the river. War in its most +terrifying guise was at our very doors, and had it not been for +the heroic calmness of Mme. de Sarennes, we should probably have +joined the distracted crowd in the streets. While affrighted women +and children, and even men, rushed past in the wildness of their +terror, filling the night with the clamour of despair, and exposing +themselves to still greater dangers in their efforts to escape, +she gathered her little household about her and set fear at defiance. +</p> + +<p> +Dressed with her usual care, she sate in the drawing-room with all +the candles lighted, the shutters closed, and the curtains tightly +drawn. There was not a trace more colour than usual in her fine, +high-bred face, nor a quiver to her slender hands, nor a tremor in +her voice as she repeated some familiar psalm, or led us in the +prayers we offered unceasingly throughout the long night. Her +calmness, superior to the alarm without, dominated over the more +ignorant—she put away danger from before them—as her unshaken +confidence in a high protection inspired the more courageous. +</p> + +<p> +But, for faint and stout hearted alike, it was a fearful night. +For hours the great guns played without ceasing; at the nearer +explosions the very rock on which the house was founded seemed +loosened, and the effort to control ourselves and not leap to our +feet with the terrified servants became such a strain on Angélique +and myself that we dared not let our eyes meet, for fear of an +outburst of tears. +</p> + +<p> +Some time during the night, at an unusual uproar in the street, +Mme. de Sarennes sent one of the men-servants to the upper windows +to discover its cause. In a few moments he returned with +horror-stricken face—“O mon Dieu, madame! the Cathedral is on +fire! We are lost!” At which, a wail of despair broke from us all. +Angélique's head dropped on her mother's lap. “O ma mère! It was +God's own house!” she sobbed. +</p> + +<p> +Her mother's white hand softly stroked her hair with reassuring +firmness, while she whispered words of comfort. Then to every +awe-struck heart about her she said, with confidence, “It was the +house of God Himself, and He has not spared it, while His hand has +been over our roof, and He is holding each one of us safe in His +keeping”; and we took fresh courage at her words. +</p> + +<p> +Gradually the fire slackened, and at length ceased. The morning +came, and we were still safe and untouched, amid the surrounding +ruin. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after daybreak we heard a knock at the door, and the Town-Major, +M. Joannès, was ushered in. +</p> + +<p> +He looked upon us with astonishment in his tired eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Mme. de Sarennes, no one suspected you of being here! All the +inhabitants fled from the face of the town when the fire opened. +Pardon me, but you must move at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“We have only been waiting for orders, monsieur. Where are we to +go?” +</p> + +<p> +“To the Hôtel-Dieu for the present, madame; but it is quite possible +that will soon be unsafe, now they have our range. With your +permission, I will send some men at once to move what can be carried +and stored in some safer place; for you cannot expect the house to +stand through another fire.” +</p> + +<p> +“It has served its purpose, monsieur; we have no right to larger +regrets than have others. Come, my children, let us go.” +</p> + +<p> +With a last look round the room that had seen so much of her life +within its walls, she passed out, and bidding us gather our lighter +valuables and some clothing, withdrew for a few moments to her own +room, and then rejoined us in the hallway. +</p> + +<p> +We made a sad little procession as we threaded our way through the +ruined streets, between the smoking and crumbling walls of the +homes we had looked upon but yesterday, bright with all the assuring +signs of comfortable, secure life, past the wrecked Cathedral, and +between piles of household goods heaped in ruinous confusion in +the Place. This was now crowded with anxious, pale-faced people, +hollow-eyed and aged with the terror of actual war, seeking out +their little valuables, some with shrill-voiced complaint and +contention, others with a hopeless, silent mien that went to our +hearts, and yet others with an air of gayety and the tricks and +buffooneries of school children. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0214-large.jpg" name="picture-0214"> + <img src="images/picture-0214-small.jpg" + alt="We made a sad little procession."/></a> + +<p> +We were thankful to escape out of the hubbub and distraction of +the streets to the quiet within the walls of the Hôtel-Dieu; but, +alas! the next night the bombardment recommenced, and it was apparent +we could not long hope for safety, as the English fire became more +exact and far-reaching. +</p> + +<p> +The white-robed nuns moved about their duties with calm resignation, +though often the trembling lips or the involuntary start told of +the strain it cost to control the natural alarm which shook the +heart when some nearer crash foretold approaching disaster. +</p> + +<p> +Lucy lay calm and unmoved; every day that brought the English +nearer, was bringing her nearer to Kit. The thunder of the bombardment +was to her like the knocking on the gate which shut her in from +her one object in life, and that it was being shattered meant only +deliverance. When orders came to remove to the General Hospital, +without the walls of the town and beyond all immediate danger, she +was more disturbed than at any time during the siege. +</p> + +<p> +The Hospital stood in the valley of the St. Charles, somewhat less +than a mile from the town, with the river sweeping in a great bend +on the one side, and the steep Heights, at the end of which the +town stood, rising on the other. We were cut off from any view of +the St. Lawrence, but the sight of the bridge of boats, with its +hornwork, across the tongue of land enclosed by the sweep of the +river, and the walls of the town crowning the Heights, kept us in +touch with the struggle going on between us and the English, who +still held the St. Lawrence, with its opposite shore. +</p> + +<p> +The convent itself was a pile of grey stone buildings forming a +quadrangle with wings, begun by the Recollect fathers nearly a +century before. It was in two of their curious little cells that +Mme. de Sarennes, Angélique, and I were lodged. The chapel opened +out of the square entry—it scarce could be dignified as a hall—on +which the principal doorway gave, and to the right of this was the +long, low-ceilinged room, lighted by many-paned windows down one +side, which now served as a common meeting-place for the nuns of +the three congregations and their numerous guests. +</p> + +<p> +Here all who were willing and able to work placed themselves under +the direction of the Superior, for the nuns had more than they +could well attend to, with the invalids of the Hôtel-Dieu added to +their own, as well as the wounded, who now began to come in. +</p> + +<p> +On the last day of July we heard heavy firing towards Montmorenci, +beginning about mid-day, and towards five o'clock it increased to +a continuous dull roar. It was dark before the first messenger +reached us, and our hearts were lifted by the tidings he bore. It +was victory, perhaps complete and final; the English had left +hundreds of dead behind them, and our loss was nothing. +</p> + +<p> +Scarce an hour after this the wounded began to arrive, and being +but a novice to such sights, I was glad when the Superior, noticing +my pale face, called Angélique to bid us go out into the court-yard +and get a breath of fresh air. It was a welcome relief to us both, +and we were walking up and down, eagerly discussing the news, when +an officer rode in at the gate, supporting a wounded man before him. +</p> + +<p> +“It is M. de Maxwell!” cried Angélique, joyfully, and my impulse +was to turn and fly, but he had already recognised Angélique, and +called to her without ceremony: +</p> + +<p> +“Mademoiselle de Sarennes, will you and your companion support this +lad into the Hospital? He is not seriously wounded, only weak from +the loss of blood,” and as though counting on our help without +question, he let the boy slip tenderly to the ground, and I was +forced to step forward with Angélique to his support. +</p> + +<p> +Bending down from his horse, he held the boy as he directed us how +to aid him, and then whispered encouragingly: “Keep up, my lad; +you are among friends! Make your best effort before these ladies!” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0216-large.jpg" name="picture-0216"> + <img src="images/picture-0216-small.jpg" + alt="Keep up, my lad; you are among friends!"/></a> + +<p> +He certainly had no suspicion of who I was, for when he was satisfied +that we were equal to our task he turned his horse, and crying, “A +thousand thanks, mesdames. Good-night!” he rode slowly back through +the gates. +</p> + +<p> +The lad was in Highland uniform, and I spake to him in Gaelic, +thinking to enhearten him, but he made no reply as he staggered +forward between us towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +Once within, we summoned aid, and, as the lad sank into a chair, +the light fell full on his upturned face, and I saw it was that of +Christopher Routh. Hugh had gone far to redeem himself in my eyes. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h2> + +<p> +THE HEIGHTS OF QUEBEC +</p> + +<p> +Christopher was at once examined by M. Arnoux, the surgeon, who +obligingly came at Angélique's request, and before long he met us +to report that his patient was in no danger; his wound was dressed, +and a night's sleep would go far to put him on his feet again. He +could be seen without even fatigue on the morrow. I left word with +the sister in charge that she should tell him I was in the convent, +and would come to him about eleven. +</p> + +<p> +I had no hesitation in telling Lucy the news; indeed, the suspense +of every day that passed was wearing her frail body away so rapidly +that, had not God seen fit to send His answer to her prayer at this +very time, she would have passed beyond its comfort. As it was, +the news acted on her like some generous wine, strengthening without +exciting her, her only request being that Christopher should not +be brought to her until he was quite able for the exertion. +</p> + +<p> +When I entered Christopher's room he was already sitting up in bed, +his eyes fairly dancing with delight. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Madame de St. Just! Think of my being brought here, to find +you and my mother under the same roof, and that it was Captain +Maxwell who brought me! He saved me when I was down with an Indian +over me, and did not get me off without standing some hard knocks +himself. He carried me into the French lines, and as soon as the +affair was over, rode with me before him all this distance, keeping +my heart up the time by saying, 'Kit, my boy, I am taking you to +your mother,' and I so near swooning with this stupid arm I could +scarce hear him. You know I was with him in Louisbourg, and when +I was a child in London he lodged with us, as he was in hiding on +account of the Scotch rising and calling himself Captain Geraldine. +But tell me of my mother, madame. Can I not see her now?” +</p> + +<p> +I told him as discreetly as I could of poor Lucy's condition, and +he bore up astonishingly well. What seemed to trouble him greatly +was the thought that he had never dreamed of the possibility of +her being ill. “Even though she was a prisoner I never feared she +would be hardly treated; no one could so cruel to my mother, she +is so gentle!” the poor lad continued. “I knew you were with her, +and I never thought of the other danger at all. I was so happy +when I fell into English hands and was allowed to enlist in Boston, +and in Fraser's Highlanders, too, not in a Colony regiment; and +when we found there was no danger of peace being proclaimed, and +that we were for Quebec, we were all mad with joy to have another +crack at the French. Oh, pardon me, madame; I forgot you were on +their side,” he cried, with a sudden confusion; “and I never doubted +for a moment I should find her here.” +</p> + +<p> +The next day the surgeon pronounced him out of all possible danger, +and added, significantly, “If his mother is to see him, it is best +it should be at once.” Thereupon I obtained the necessary permission, +and never have I seen greater joy in a face than in Lucy's, when +I ushered Christopher into her room. +</p> + +<p> +That same evening, as I sate beside her, though she lay quiet and +composed, I noticed a grave change had come over her, and calling +one of the sisters who had had much experience, she at once said +the end was near. +</p> + +<p> +With the permission of the Superior I went for Christopher, and +led him, white and awe—struck, to the bedside of his mother. She +asked that I would not leave—“if it be not a trouble to you, +madame,” the poor thing pleaded, pitifully—and I remained beside +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Christopher,” she said, with an effort, “I made a promise years +ago that when this hour came I would tell you the truth about +yourself. Our name is not Routh, but Maxwell; you are the son of +the Captain Maxwell who saved you—and brought you back to me. You +remember him as the 'Captain Geraldine' who lodged with us in +London? He had married me six years before, when we were but little +more than boy and girl, and when you were born he was wandering a +shipwrecked man in Russia, seeking eagerly some means of return to +us, though I was persuaded he had deserted me. When he returned, +and was willing to acknowledge me as his wife, I was hardened into +a heartless woman, believing myself separated, by what I ignorantly +called God's grace, from him and the world to which he belonged. +In my pride I refused to let him come into our lives, though he +implored me to let him make such restitution as was in his power. +He behaved as few men would have done; for the sake of the old +love, he bore with me and accepted my conditions—that he would +never mention our marriage, and would never come between you and +me. He let you go away from his side in Louisbourg, though his +heart was yearning for you; because his honour, a quality which I +pretended not to understand, forbade him to forget his promise to +me. He was always good to me, far beyond my deserts, and my hope, +now that my eyes are opened, is that you, Christopher, will remember +my debt to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Try and be gentle, my boy. Be true to him. He has had a sad, lonely +life, but you may make it up to him yet. When you see him, tell +him from me... tell Hugh...”—but here I silently withdrew, leaving +the mother to whisper her last message of contrition to the boy +kneeling beside her bed. +</p> + +<p> +Pitiful as was poor Lucy's story, I could gather but little comfort +from it. It seemed to me that in marrying out of his own class Hugh +had committed so grave a fault that whatever followed in the way +of misunderstanding was but to be expected. He had been kind, +forbearing, larger-minded than she had known; she had not even +realised the sense of honour which had made her a wife and not a +mistress. It had gone the way of all mistakes, and produced nothing +but bitterness and regret. From it I could gather no excuse, no +justification of his conduct towards me; he had allowed my affection +to grow up and centre in him without a warning I could understand +of the heart-break which confronted me, and I could not see that +his obligation towards her who had cast his love aside was more +sacred than to her to whom it was all in all. +</p> + +<p> +We laid Lucy to rest in the garden of the Hospital—without the +rites of the Church, it is true, but not without both prayers and +tears, and then took up the daily round of duty once more. +</p> + +<p> +Christopher, being no longer a patient, was ordered off to the town +as a prisoner, but I sent with him a note to M. Joannès which +secured him generous treatment. Through the month of August the +wounded continued to come in, and though our troops were starving +as they stood behind their lines of defence, they were one and all +hopeful of the result. The bombardment from the Lévy shore continued +until the town was little more than a heap of ruins, and night +after night the sky was red with the glare of burning buildings. +Part of the enemy's fleet had passed the city and threatened to +cut off all supplies from the upper parishes. There were ugly +rumours, too, of the Canadians deserting, for the tidings of the +loss of Carillon and Niagara had gone far to dishearten them. On +the other hand, we had authentic news of the desperate illness of +the English general, Wolfe, and even though M. de Lévis was forced +to march to the support of Montreal, the unfaltering courage of M. +de Montcalm so inspired our troops that they held on successfully, +praying for relief or the coming of winter. +</p> + +<p> +About the beginning of September Angélique came to me greatly +excited. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Marguerite, Charles is here! He is very ill. Will you come +and see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he wounded?” +</p> + +<p> +“No. But he has suffered incredible hardships in Acadie, and he is +ill—so ill that he cannot be in his place in the field. Come, he +has just been asking my mother for you. Come!” +</p> + +<p> +“Impossible, chérie; M. Arnoux is depending on my supply of lint +for a patient,” I replied, and so escaped for the moment. But with +the persistency of innocence she returned to her demand as we sate +with her mother that evening. +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, Charles has been asking for you again this afternoon. +Will you see him the first thing in the morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not know, chérie; neither your mother nor the Superior has +given her permission as yet,” I answered, much troubled at her +insistence. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Marguerite, this is ungenerous of you!” cried the warm-hearted +girl. “Think, how ready Charles was to serve you when you wished +to go to Louisbourg! This is no time to stand on trifles.” +</p> + +<p> +“Angélique take care you are not ungenerous yourself,” said Mme. +de Sarennes, much to my relief. “Charles must not be childish in +his demands. There is no reason why Marguerite should visit him +until he is up and prepared to receive her fittingly, for there is +no reason why war should banish every rule of decorum.” And with +these decided words the difficulty was dismissed, though not at +all to Angélique's satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +At daybreak on the 13th of September we were awakened by the sound +of guns above the city, and hastened to the attic windows; but +drift of passing showers hid the valley from us, while the Heights +loomed grey and shrouded above. There was nothing to enlighten us, +and in company with our fears we descended to wait uneasily for +tidings. +</p> + +<p> +I grew so anxious and depressed in the half-lighted halls that I +could not remain below, and returned towards our room. But just as +I approached the door some one came hurriedly along the corridor, +and to my dismay I recognised M. de Sarennes. +</p> + +<p> +“Stay one moment, mademoiselle; I must speak with you.” His voice +was trembling, and even in the struggling light I could see his +dark face was drawn and haggard, though his black eyes burned with +a fiercer light than before. +</p> + +<p> +“It is useless, M. de Sarennes; I can hear nothing you have to say. +Remember your mother and sister are here within call, and you will +only cause them pain if you force me to summon aid, which I will +certainly do. Have some pity for them if you have none for me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Answer me but one question. Do you love this Maxwell?” +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Sarennes, I will tell you nothing. You have no right to +question me.” +</p> + +<p> +“My God, Marguerite! have I not done everything for you?” +</p> + +<p> +“You have done me every injury in your power. You have never spoken +to me that you have not tortured me so I cannot look on you without +fear and loathing.” +</p> + +<p> +At my words he stepped close to me, but before either could utter +a sound, a shrill cry came from above: +</p> + +<p> +“O mon Dieu! mon Dieu! The English are on the Heights.” +</p> + +<p> +Doors were thrown open, and in an instant the corridors were filled +with white faces, and hurrying feet were flying towards the stairways. +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense!” cried a reassuring voice when we gained the upper +windows. “Those are our troops! See, they are crossing the bridge!” +</p> + +<p> +“No. Here! Here! See! Just opposite us, over the edge of the hill.” +And as we crowded to the side whence the cry came our hearts sank +as we saw a little patch of red against the morning sky. +</p> + +<p> +“Bah! They are only a handful. See how our men are crossing the +St. Charles! There! They are coming out of the St. John's Gate +now!” +</p> + +<p> +“Mes soeurs, we will descend to the chapel,” said the calm voice +of la mère de Ste. Claude, and at her words the obedient nuns +recovered their usual air of quiet and flocked after her, as did +many of the others; but Angélique and I remained. +</p> + +<p> +We could plainly see our troops defiling out of the town in a +seemingly unending line, and could distinguish their officers riding +to and fro giving orders; but the little point of red remained +immovable, and we could not tell whether it was an army or a single +detachment. +</p> + +<p> +Regulars, Canadians, and Indians continued to pour across the bridge +of boats, and to cross through the town from the Palais to the St. +John's Gate, whence they issued, and moved off towards the left, +hidden from us by the rising ground. +</p> + +<p> +We stood there hour after hour, forgetful of fatigue and hunger in +our anxiety. We could hear the faint reports of musketry and the +dull growl of cannon, but could not tell whence they came. Soon we +discovered scattered figures stealing along under the shelter of +the hill towards the point of red, and as they drew nearer could +distinguish the blue and grey of our Canadians and the head-dresses +of Indians. At length spurts of smoke began to leap from the bushes +all along the crest of the hill opposite us, extending far beyond +the point where the red had been, and, from the sensible increase +in the firing, we judged the battle had begun. +</p> + +<p> +But about ten o'clock we heard such a general discharge of cannon +and musketry, and marked such instantaneous movement along the line +of skirmishers, that we knew what we had taken for the battle was +but child's play. Suddenly the confused noise and firing were +dominated by one sharp roar like to the clap of a thunder-bolt, +followed by a second, and then by a long rolling fire. To this +succeeded cheers, different from any we had heard before, above +which I caught the shrill skirl of the bagpipes, while a great +cloud of smoke slowly rose and drifted to and fro in the heavy air. +</p> + +<p> +Out of this, on a sudden, burst a screaming mob of men in mad, +death-driven disorder, some sweeping towards the St. John's Gate, +while others plunged down over the side of the hill to gain the +bridge of boats. After them, in as wild pursuit, came the enemy, +foremost of whom were the Highlanders, with flying tartans, shouting +their slogan as they leaped and clambered recklessly down the +hill-side, slashing at the fugitives with their claymores, while +the pipes screamed in maddening encouragement above. +</p> + +<p> +The disaster was so unexpected, so instantaneous, that we could +not comprehend it, and stood there in silent awe absorbed in the +dreadful tragedy before us. +</p> + +<p> +“O ciel! Marguerite! See, there is M. de Maxwell! On the Côte Ste. +Geneviève!” cried Angélique, in a hoarse, strained voice, pointing +as she spake. +</p> + +<p> +The Côte Ste. Geneviève, a long and dangerous descent from the +Heights, beginning near the town, down to the level on which the +Hospital stood, was exposed in all its length not only to the fire +of the enemy above, but also to that of a number of Canadians, who, +though driven down and across it, had rallied at its base and were +disputing the descent of the Highlanders and other of the English. +</p> + +<p> +Down this rode Hugh. He was mounted on a powerful black horse and +came on at perilous speed. But the pursuers had marked him also, +and just as he gained the middle of the descent the hill-side above +him blazed out in a sweeping volley, and down he went on the neck +of his horse. An involuntary cry burst from us both, but even as +it sped he was erect again, and with hat in hand came spurring on, +waving and cheering to the brave fellows below. In another moment +he was in their midst, where, dismounting, he seemed to give the +needed orders for their guidance. Unofficered and undirected, they +had stubbornly disputed every inch of ground when all others had +given way, and now, under a few words of encouragement from a +gallant man, to our amazement, we saw them actually attempt to +scale the hill, firing upwards as they climbed. They were not +regulars; they made no pretence to the science of war; they had +been despised and belittled probably by every officer in the service +for their manner of fighting; yet now in the hour of need they +alone stood firm between the flying army and destruction. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0228-large.jpg" name="picture-0228"> + <img src="images/picture-0228-small.jpg" + alt="With hat in hand came spurring on."/></a> + +<p> +As soon as he saw them steadied in their advance, Hugh mounted and +rode off towards another group busied in an attempt to drag a heavy +gun from some soft ground where it was deeply bogged, and then on +again towards the bridge of boats, the only way of escape for the +defeated troops. +</p> + +<p> +“O mon Dieu! They will never cross! The bridge is blocked!” cried +a despairing voice, and we trembled together as we watched the +rabble gathering in a mad rush towards the narrow passage, mixed +in hideous confusion, with the exception of the Royal Roussillon, +which stood as firm as if on parade. +</p> + +<p> +The struggle still went on along the foot of the hill, where the +Canadians manfully held their ground; but, to our dismay, we saw +that some fresh disaster had happened at the bridge. +</p> + +<p> +“O mon Dieu! They are cutting it! The whole army will be lost!” +But there was more efficient aid at hand than our useless cries. +Even as we despaired we saw Hugh with other officers struggle +through the mob, and, sword in hand, beat back the terror-stricken +crowd until they gained the head of the bridge, when the Royal +Roussillon moved into position, and soon the straggling columns +took form and passed rapidly over beyond the shelter of the hornwork. +</p> + +<p> +The pursuit was checked, as far as we could see, by the unaided +efforts of the Canadians; the English halted, reformed, and slowly +withdrew; the last of our troops recrossed the St. Charles; and in +the twilight we saw our colours still flying on the ramparts of +Quebec. +</p> + +<p> +There was nothing more for us to see, perhaps nothing more to hope, +and broken in body and in spirit we wearily descended the stairways, +and traversed the long corridors in silence until we reached the +main hall on the ground-floor. +</p> + +<p> +The room was barely lighted by a few candles at one end, and was +filled to overflowing by the nuns of the three orders, mingled with +those who had shared their generous hospitality—old and feeble +gentlemen whose fighting days had long passed; grey-haired +gentlewomen, patient and resigned, others in the full bloom of +youth, and young girls and children, pale and anxious-eyed; while +in the circle of light beneath the great black crucifix on the +white wall stood the commanding figure of la mère de Ste. Claude, +and with her la mère de Ste. Hélène of the Hôtel-Dieu, and la mère +de la Nativité of the Ursulines. +</p> + +<p> +All were listening with breathless attention to the words that fell +from the venerable Bishop of Quebec, Monseignieur de Pontbriand, +whose quiet bearing and measured tones carried assurance to many +a fainting heart. +</p> + +<p> +“My children,” he was saying, as we entered, “do not forget, in +our day of disaster, that we are not left helpless. Let us for +our comfort say together those words, which we learned to lisp as +children, but perhaps only to understand to-night.” And, as he +raised his hand, the people knelt, and with voices that gained +confidence as the familiar words fell from his lips, they repeated +the “Qui habitat” in unison: “He that dwelleth in the secret place +of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty.” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0230-large.jpg" name="picture-0230"> + <img src="images/picture-0230-small.jpg" + alt="He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High."/></a> + +<p> +The common danger, the common worship, drew us together. Each +succeeding verse, with its divine assurance of safety and protection, +brought to us a quiet and a confidence which renewed our strength. +</p> + +<p> +But even as all hearts were lifted there came a commanding knock +at the outer door opposite the chapel, which was immediately +repeated, and la mère Ste. Claude signed it should be opened. +</p> + +<p> +Angélique and I, being at the threshold of the hall, hastened to +obey, and found ourselves in the presence of a general officer, +behind whom was a detachment of soldiers in Highland uniform. The +officer stepped into the hall as one who takes possession, and +demanded the Superior, in accurate French. +</p> + +<p> +She came forward followed by the principal nuns and ladies. +</p> + +<p> +“Have no fear, mesdames,” he said, bowing low with much elegance +of manner; “I am General Townshend. You will suffer no harm; but +we must take possession of your convent, for your protection as +well as our own.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are victors, monsieur, and can command,” she said, bitterly. +</p> + +<p> +“We are victors, madame,” he returned, gravely, “but we have bought +our honours dearly. Our general lies dead on the plain above.” +</p> + +<p> +“C'est sur le champ d'honneur, monsieur,” she instantly responded, +in a tone of much feeling. +</p> + +<p> +“A thousand thanks for your sympathy, madame; we will use every +diligence to preserve it. Captain Nairn will take charge here, and +will give you assurance of safety and protection from insult. In +return, you will kindly offer such shelter to the wounded as is +possible, and furnish him with every information as to the number +of rooms available, for I must ask for all accommodation in your +power.” +</p> + +<p> +He introduced Captain Nairn and withdrew at once, followed by the +assurances of the Superior that everything would be done for the +comfort of the wounded. +</p> + +<p> +It was with a curious feeling that I looked on my brother, for I +could not doubt that it was he, though I had not seen him since we +were children. Despite the disorder of his dress and his evident +fatigue, he was a handsome man, though not much taller than myself. +His address was natural and easy, and certainly his French was +perfect; I had but a moment to gather this, for we were at once +dismissed from our attendance by the Superior, who remained alone +to arrange with our new masters. +</p> + +<p> +“O, ciel! Marguerite! is that your brother?” whispered Angélique, +excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, chérie, I have no doubt it is,” I answered, sadly. +</p> + +<p> +“I should not sigh over such a misfortune,” she cried, gayly. “You +are cold-blooded creatures, you Scotch! Why, I should have been +weeping on his neck long ago, no matter what had happened! He has +eyes like yours.” +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h2> + +<p> +RECONCILIATION +</p> + +<p> +We found Mme. de Sarennes awaiting us in her room, with a generous +bouillon warming over a lamp. “Hunger and faintness will not add +to your courage, my daughters; sit down and eat. We shall have need +of all our strength for the morrow,” she said, cheerfully. We were +eager to discuss the events of the day, but she would not listen +to a word. “You must be good soldiers now and obey orders; eat +first, and then to bed. Angélique, do you set an example and go at +once.” +</p> + +<p> +“La cérémonie faite, chacun s'en fut coucher,” repeated Angélique, +sleepily, as she kissed us and went. Then I turned to her mother. +</p> + +<p> +“Mme. de Sarennes, I am in a difficulty. May I ask your help?” +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, ma chérie, I am afraid I am thought a stern woman; +but you know how dear those I love are to me, and I have learned +to love you. You may speak to me as you would have spoken to your +own mother,” she said, with a tenderness that went to my heart. +</p> + +<p> +I arose and seated myself beside her, and with my hand in hers I +told her of my home, of my life with Lady Jane, and my devotion to +the cause of the Prince; of my pride in my only brother, and of +what I considered his desertion, which led to my girlish renunciation +and my estrangement from him. “He is the Captain Nairn who came +with General Townshend to-night. What shall I do, madame?” +</p> + +<p> +“You must go to him on the morrow, my child, without hesitation. +Such a tie is too sacred to be thrown away lightly.” Here she +paused, and laying her hand on my arm, said, in tones of the deepest +feeling, “Marguerite, when you are an old woman like me, I pray +you may never have to look back with regret on an opportunity for +reconciliation cast aside.” She spake with such intense emotion +that I could not doubt I had unwittingly stirred some painful memory +of her past, but in a moment she recovered, and said, tenderly: +“Remember, you both lay on the same breast; you looked into the +same mother's eyes. Think of the pain it would cause her to know +that there is anything in her children's hearts towards each other, +save the love with which she filled them. But I need not say more; +I see your intent in your face. Remember, too, we need all the +interest we can command with our new guests. Now get some rest, my +child; you are worn out.” +</p> + +<p> +When I awakened in the morning I found the whole community astir, +for all night long the wounded had been brought in, until every +bed and corner was occupied, and even the barns, sheds, and outhouses +were filled to overflowing. +</p> + +<p> +French and English lay side by side, helpless and patient. As I +crossed the hall I noticed a big Highland sergeant lying on a +stretcher, waiting until some place was found for him, with the +sweat standing in great beads on his forehead. He muttered some +kind of a prayer in Gaelic as I passed, and at the sound of the +once familiar tongue I stopped, and, bending over him, wiped away +the perspiration, and spake to him in his own language. He stared +at me in the utmost astonishment, and then swore a great oath, and +the tears filled his eyes. +</p> + +<p> +I at last found a soldier who was not on duty, and by him sent a +message to Captain Nairn that a lady desired speech with him when +he was at liberty. +</p> + +<p> +He returned with word that the Captain fixed eleven o'clock, and +at that hour I awaited in the parlour. As I waited I wondered that +I had ever made any question of meeting him; I could even see that +his choice of life had its defence, from a man's point of view. A +soldier is first of all a soldier, and waiting the heaviest of his +duties; though he is ready to suffer incredibly for his cause when +it is active, it is the women who keep the personal attachments +alive through the weary days when everything but hope is dead. +</p> + +<p> +I spake at once on his entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“Archie, I am your sister Margaret.” +</p> + +<p> +“My dearest Peggy!” was all he said, but he caught me in his strong +arms and nearly crushed the breath out of me. He petted and fondled +me, calling me by every dear name of childhood, until my heart was +nigh to bursting with this treasure of love lavished upon me when +I least expected it. +</p> + +<p> +I was brought back to the present when he questioned me on the +reason of my being in Canada, and though it cost me a bitter struggle +with my pride, I told him the whole story of my folly. I could not +spare myself when he took me so on trust. +</p> + +<p> +“And you say that Maxwell was married all this time?” he asked, +sternly. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but—” +</p> + +<p> +“There are no 'buts'!” he interrupted, fiercely. “I will kill him +on sight!” +</p> + +<p> +“Archie, my brother, think what you say! I do not know that he +deceived me, and I do know I deceived myself. +</p> + +<p> +“I can't help that! If he had not been there, you never would have +made the mistake. The only pity is I was not on the ground at the +time.” +</p> + +<p> +“But, Archie, think of me. Think what an open scandal will mean. +No one but you and me, and one other,” I added—remembering le père +Jean—“knows anything of this now.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what do we care about other people, Peggy? We Nairns are not +used to asking leave for our actions; and so long as you yourself +are not ashamed, I do not give a rotten nut for the rest of the +world. It is no question of the personal feeling at all; it is the +principle! I have no personal quarrel with Maxwell; on the contrary, +I like him. He was a brother to me in Louisbourg; but, thank God! +I can sink my likings and dislikings, when it comes to a case such +as this. No, no, Peggy; you'd best leave things in my hands.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Archie, I will not! There has been heart-break and misery +enough over this as it is, without adding more.” +</p> + +<p> +“But this will wipe it all out. Cannot you understand?” he said, +with a touch of impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“Archie, cannot you understand that, however clearly I regret my +own folly, I cannot in a moment stamp out the feeling in which I +have lived all these years?” +</p> + +<p> +“You don't tell me you care for the fellow yet, Peggy?” he cried, +in a tone of genuine astonishment. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless my soul! That is beyond me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not a woman, Archie.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, thank God I am not,” he answered, without the vestige of a +smile. “Of all the wearisome things in the world, I can imagine +nothing worse than being a woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“And yet there are a good many who have to put up with this +weariness.” +</p> + +<p> +“The Lord help them! But we must not fall to quarrelling at our +first meeting; that would be altogether too much like boy and girl +again. Peggy, do you remember how we used to fight over the plovers' +nests?” and he laughed merrily at the thought. “Don't be put out +by a little thing like this. I'll not kill the gentleman behind a +hedge or in the dark; he shall have nothing to complain of, rest +assured. But I have sad news for your friends, Margaret. M. de +Montcalm died at daybreak this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Archie! We did not even know that he was wounded.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nor did we until late last night, for he was seen on his horse +during the retreat. He was a fine soldier.” +</p> + +<p> +“He was more than that, Archie. He was a man of honour and the soul +of his army—and he was very good to me,” I sobbed, breaking down +at the remembrance of his chivalrous protection. +</p> + +<p> +To my surprise, Archie put his arm about me. “Cry on, Peggy, my +lamb,” he said, in the soft endearment of the Gaelic. And the +soldier who had so readily decided on the death of a man a moment +since, now melted at the sight of a woman's grief, and offered her +that best of all consolation, sympathy. Nothing else could so +quickly have revealed to me the wrong I had been guilty of in +holding aloof from this strong affection that had held fast in +simple, unwavering loyalty to the love of childhood. To him I had +always remained the Peggy of the old home; in his generous heart +the thought of any necessity for reconciliation had no place, for +he held himself as the head of the family, from whom protection +for the weaker must necessarily flow. +</p> + +<p> +“By-the-way, Peggy,” he said, suddenly, “it was you, no doubt, who +spake to one of my men in Gaelic this morning. That was Neil, son +of Angus Dubh, the tacksman on the old place, one of my best +sergeants. You did as much for him as the surgeon, and when I tell +him who you are he will think you an angel from heaven. Come when +you can and say a word to our poor fellows; they are wearying for +home like children, now they are past fighting for a bit.” +</p> + +<p> +Days of unceasing work now followed for all who would assist in +nursing and the innumerable little duties necessitated by the +presence of so large a body of invalids, and, to their honour, even +the most frivolous of the women took their share uncomplainingly, +making no distinction between friend and foe. The most conflicting +rumours reached us as to the movements of our army, and of the +intentions of M. de Ramesay, governor of the city, but we fortunately +had little leisure for speculation, and our doubts were ended by +the formal capitulation, on the eighteenth of the month. +</p> + +<p> +After the troops had taken possession and quiet was restored, +permission was given to us to enter the town, should we so desire. +It must have been a welcome relief to la mère de Ste. Claude when +her numerous guests took their departure. The nuns of the Hôtel-Dieu +and the Ursulines returned to their respective convents, and in +that of the latter Mme. de Sarennes secured rooms for the winter. +</p> + +<p> +It was pitiful to see the condition of the town, for the destruction +by the bombardment had been almost complete. The Lower Town no +longer existed, and scarce a building remained along the front of +the Upper. Angélique and I wandered towards the familiar rue du +Parloir, to find but a line of crumbling walls, blackened and +roofless; before it our little isle of houses, as well as the +Bishop's Palace, lay a mass of ruin, and behind it stood the wrecked +Cathedral. Every building that could serve as a mark had suffered +in some measure, and the chapel of our convent was the only sacred +place left in this city of churches where worship could be celebrated. +Here mass and vespers alternated with the services of the Episcopalian +and Presbyterian divines, and I am certain none suffered from the +near fellowship of the other. +</p> + +<p> +A detachment of Archie's regiment, the Fraser Highlanders, was +quartered on us for the winter, and with them the community shared +their diminished hospitality; they, in turn, lent us their services +in collecting firewood and in drawing water, and it was surprising +to mark the good-will that was shown on both sides. Not only were +they granted full permission to smoke in the quarters assigned to +them, but the nuns, taking compassion on their unsuitable, and, in +their eyes, almost indecent, dress, fell to work at knitting for +them long stockings of the heaviest wool, which occasioned loud +laughter and much sly jesting among the men, and on our side +Angélique provoked some of the younger nuns to such merriment by +her sallies on the subject that they thereby incurred the +disapprobation of their more serious-minded elders. +</p> + +<p> +For this attention General Murray sent to the Superior a most +gracious acknowledgment of his gratitude towards the community, +but it remained for the men themselves to cap the climax. +</p> + +<p> +Every morning it was the practice of the Superior to make a round +of the convent, including those portions set apart for the +Highlanders, and on this duty I was in the habit of accompanying +her, as the men took a great pleasure in my Gaelic; and it was an +acceptable service to me to cultivate their good-will towards the +community by this simple favour. I knew many of them by name, and +indeed some of them could claim kinship with me, notably Neil, the +sergeant, whom I have already mentioned, a fine specimen of our +people, standing well over six feet in his buckled shoes. +</p> + +<p> +One morning, as we entered the hall set aside for the men, we heard +a sharp command from the sergeant, and to our surprise we found +the men not only drawn up in line to meet us—which was a voluntary +mark of respect they paid the Superior—but now, there stood every +man in full dress, with cocked and feathered bonnet on his head, +claymore by his side, and firelock in his hand, and every pair of +sturdy legs encased in the long grey stockings knitted by the nuns. +</p> + +<p> +The sergeant gravely stepped forward, and, saluting the Superior, +addressed her in his most correct English: +</p> + +<p> +“Reverend madam, I am put forward on account of my rank, and not +for my poor abilities, to thank the ladies who would think so much +of us poor fellows as to be doing us this kindness this day. As +long as we live, yes, and long after we are dead, moreover, you +may be sure that Fraser's will always remember this; and when we +will be telling even to our grandchildren of Quebec and what we +did there, we will not forget to speak of your name and of the +names of the ladies under your command. And, madam, our solemn hope +is that you will never have more cause to blush at our bare knees, +saving your presence, than we will have to blush at your kindness, +madam.” +</p> + +<p> +Then turning quickly to me, he whispered, in Gaelic: “Speak to +her, Miss Margaret, and tell her what we would say. It is God's +own truth I am speaking when I say that we are thankful, even though +some will be wondering what put such a notion into the poor ladies' +heads.” Whereupon he wheeled about and roared out his command to +the men, as if to check the grin that was spreading over his own +honest face from appearing on any other. There was an instantaneous +movement at his command, and the Superior received the full honours +of a grand salute. +</p> + +<p> +She was greatly pleased, as indeed she might be, for the poor +fellows had shown their gratitude in the most honourable fashion +they knew, and she begged me to return her thanks and the assurances +of her interest in them all, which I did in terms that, however +they might have violated her ideas of rhetoric, were best understood +by the men before me: +</p> + +<p> +“Neil, son of Angus, remember,” I concluded, “and remember, too, +every one who hears me, that though these good sisters do not +understand us nor our ways, they have knitted their hearts' kindness +into every stitch that has gone into those stockings, and there is +not a man of you who has a mother, or a sister, or a wife, at home, +who, if she knew what had been done for you this day, but would be +down on her knees praying for these good women. In the mean time, +see you don't forget to do it yourselves!” +</p> + +<p> +When I finished they were nearer crying than saluting, and I am +not sure that I was far from it myself; for, as I spake, the once +familiar hills and glens, the humble dwellings, the quiet-faced +women, the yellow-haired children, all that meant home to these +brave fellows, came before me like in a dream, and I found myself +longing for something I thought I had parted with forever. +</p> + +<p> +The winter proved unusually severe, and the suffering of the troops +and the few people of condition who remained was excessive, but +there was no disorder to speak of, and the hardships were borne +uncomplainingly. From time to time we had news of our army encamped +on the Jacques Cartier, not only by the legitimate channel of the +foraging and reconnoitring parties, but even by means of some who +carried on a business of trafficking between the two camps, the +greed of gain triumphing over war and famine, and even over ordinary +patriotism. It was reported that M. de Lévis had said he would eat +his Christmas dinner in Quebec under his own flag; but he was not +given to such empty boasts, that I had ever heard, and the day +passed unmarked for us save by the services in our chapel. +</p> + +<p> +Towards the end of January, Archie came to me with a letter. “There, +Peggy, this, I take it, should go into your hands, as it is addressed +to your care. It is fortunate that Maxwell governs himself like a +gentleman in some things, for if he had attempted to send his letter +by any underhand means it might have placed you in an unpleasant +position, and even exposed me to suspicion. Listen to this—I wish +I could write like the fellow: +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “CAMP ON THE JACQUES CARTIER,<br/> + 22 <i>Jan'y</i>, 1760. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + Sir,—I have the honour to be known to your Excellency's brother, + Lord Elibank, and though Fate had thrown me on the side opposed + to your command, I venture to beg your courtesy in remitting + the enclosed letter to the care of Mme. de St. Just, at present + in your lines. I have left it unsealed, should you deem it your + duty to peruse it, but I give you my word of honour it contains + nothing but the most private matters affecting one in whom Mme. + de St. Just is interested. Should your regulations, however, + forbid such a favour, I beg that you will burn it yourself, and + I will none the less hold myself to be, +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + Sir,<br/> + Your very obliged and humble servant,<br/> + Hugh Maxwell of Kirkconnel.<br/> +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + To the Hon'ble James Murray,<br/> + Commanding in Quebec.'<br/> +</p> + +<p> +“I give you my word, Peggy, the general would allow such a letter +to pass did it contain all the treason between here and Mozambique. +He bids me give it you with his compliments, and assure you that +not only is it unread, but that should you wish to answer it under +the same restriction as to news, he will enclose your reply the +first time he has occasion to communicate with the French general.” +</p> + +<p> +The letter was addressed to “Mistress Lucy Routh, in the care of +Mme. de St. Just,” and much as I shrank from opening it, I did so, +as it might contain matters which concerned their son. And so it +proved. The letter read: +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “22 <i>Jan'y</i> 1760. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + Dear Lucy,—I send this, trusting to the courtesy of General + Murray that it may reach your hands safely. I was so suddenly + called away that there was much left unsaid when we parted, and + there has been no time for personal matters since. In the event + of anything happening to me, I wish you to impress on Christopher + that Mr. Drummond, the banker of Charing Cross, holds in trust + a small sum deposited there for me by my cousin, the late Lady + Jane Drummond. I have placed my will in the hands of M. de + Vaudreuil, and whichever way things fall out, this will serve + as a receipt, and insure its delivery. I would be glad to know + of your well-being. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + Hugh Maxwell.” +</p> + +<p> +I sent for Christopher, who was not with us but stationed at the +General Hospital with others of his regiment, and made known the +matter to him, and through the general he sent to his father his +acknowledgments and the news of Lucy's death. +</p> + +<p> +I was pleased at the consideration of which the letter was proof, +and it was a satisfaction to hear Archie's acknowledgment of Hugh's +charm; but beyond this the letter awoke in me no farther feeling, +and I was surprised to find I could look at his writing and read +his words with so little emotion. The truth is, I was living in a +new world; the discovery of my brother's love, the revelation of +Mme. de Sarennes's affection towards me, had gone far to fill the +hunger and emptiness of my life, and the old spell which had so +long dominated every thought and aspiration was no longer paramount. +Then, too, the long strain of feverish hope and unrest, the +disappointments and dangers, through which I had passed, had rendered +me peculiarly sensible to the charm of the quiet convent life by +which I was surrounded. Therein I found work into which I threw +myself with ardour, and was encouraged by the Superior towards that +way of peace upon which the convent doors gave entrance. Could I +once determine to cut myself free from the unrest and struggle of +the world, I felt that before me opened a life of usefulness which +promised amends for all suffering and atonement for all error. My +life had so far been lived for myself alone, and I saw about me +women who had attained happiness through a complete sacrifice of +self. Could I only be sure I had the strength, was not the same +reward held out to me? +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a></h2> + +<p> +A FORLORN HOPE +</p> + +<p> +Absorbed though I was in my work, I could not but mark what was +passing between Angélique and Archie—how unconsciously my +single-hearted brother was following her in that path in which the +feeblest maid can lead the strongest of his sex. +</p> + +<p> +Her imagination had been fired by the romance of his finding me, +and the story of his early adventures found in her a skilful +listener, who could extract every detail from his somewhat unwilling +lips. His endeavours to catch her nimble wit as it flew, and the +expression of awakening wonder on his face when he suspected her +of nonsense, would many a time send us into peals of laughter. +Even Mme. de Sarennes was interested, though she frankly professed +nothing beyond an armed neutrality towards our hosts. +</p> + +<p> +So the winter dragged on. There was much suffering among the people, +much anxiety and constant alarms for those in command; but each +heart loved or hoped, waited or wearied, as in time of peace, and +every one looked forward with impatience or anxiety towards the +coming of spring, which would bring the dénouement. +</p> + +<p> +By April everything was astir once more. The familiar intercourse +of the long winter was interrupted, officers and men went about +their duties so earnestly we could not but feel that all relations +were suspended until the result should be determined. Soon news +came of the movements of our army about Montreal and elsewhere, +and the English garrison was marched out for daily exercise and +duty on the plains, and as far as Ste. Foye. +</p> + +<p> +At length it was clear that some movement was imminent. Orders +were issued that the inhabitants were to leave the city—that is, +all the common people—and word was sent to the Ursulines and the +other communities that they were free to leave, did they so choose, +otherwise they must remain through the siege, should the city be +invested, and must share the fortunes of the garrison. La mère de +la Nativité, our Superior, decided at once that her community should +remain, and Mme. de Sarennes said the same for our little party. +</p> + +<p> +Angélique and I stood in la rue St. Jean, and our hearts were +stirred by the wailings and lamentations of the people leaving the +town in long procession. +</p> + +<p> +“Courage!” cried Angélique, to a despairing woman. “We will welcome +you all back again. You will come in with our army!” +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre<br/> + Ne sait quand reviendra,” +</p> + +<p> +trolled out a lusty fellow, with a laugh. +</p> + +<p> +“Tais-toi, v'limeux!” cried the woman, angrily. +</p> + +<p class="indent"> + “il reviendra-z-à Pâques,<br/> + Ou à la Trinité,” +</p> + +<p> +he continued, unconcernedly, and the crowd catching at his humour, +joined in the lilting refrain, and involuntarily quickened their +steps to the “mironton, ton, taine” of the old war song, at which +Angélique clapped her hands in delight, and was rewarded with a +shout of admiration. +</p> + +<p> +“They would have done better to have fed that fellow,” she said, +decidedly, as we turned away; “he will do some fighting, depend +upon it.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are confident, Angélique?” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, chérie; the town cannot be defended. We know that, +and if General Murray goes out, as he is sure to, he will but march +to his fate, as did our poor marquis.” +</p> + +<p> +On the 22d of April we were up before daybreak, and saw the garrison +march out with their cannon under a leaden sky and a cold drizzling +rain. I went about my tasks weighed down by a sickening anxiety, +for though I had renounced Hugh, it was impossible to banish him +at all times from my thoughts, and I could not but remember that, +in addition to the ordinary chances of battle, he had among his +enemies a sworn foe in my brother, and among his friends a treacherous +enemy in Sarennes. Against these dangers, at least, I could pray +for him with an undivided heart. +</p> + +<p> +Noise of firing came to us through the day, which we spent in +Perpetual Adoration, but at evening the troops re-entered the town +and the battle was still unfought. +</p> + +<p> +On the morrow they were again assembled, and again we watched them +march through the sodden streets. +</p> + +<p> +We had not long to wait for news of the combat; every gust of wind +swept down on us the faint crackle of musketry and the deep boom +of cannon; it seemed interminable, but before the afternoon was +well advanced the first stragglers had reached the gates. They were +followed later by a mad, ungovernable mob of English troops, and +soon the streets were choked with men, shrieking, crying, and +swearing at their defeat. Their officers, with swords drawn, rode +among them, threatening and striking, entreating and commanding to +deaf ears, for the men were like wild beasts, and could not be +controlled. It was not fear; it was like to a frenzy of rage and +shame at their rout. They broke into taverns and even private +houses, and presently the madness of drink added to the pandemonium. +The wounded were with the greatest difficulty carried through the +streets, and before evening our convent and every other refuge was +crowded to the utmost. +</p> + +<p> +It was a strange position for all of us; the wounded were our +nominal enemies, it is true, but we had been living with them on +terms of the kindliest intimacy for a long winter, and there was +no stimulus of duty needed to make the nuns put forth every effort +for their relief. To me they were more than generous enemies—they +were countrymen and kinsmen for whom I was bound to work with a +whole heart. +</p> + +<p> +I was interrupted in my task by the appearance of Christopher. +“Madam, I have come to tell you that your brother, the Captain, is +safe.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he wounded?” I asked, with swift anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, madam, but our surgeon says a fine clean cut; and I believe +him too, for he went off to sleep the moment it was dressed, more +tired than hurt. He is in his own room, where you may look at him +if you will promise not to speak,” he said, with an air of the +greatest importance. “I gave Miss Angélique his clothes to attend +to as she asked, for she was there when he was brought in, and +waited until she heard the surgeon say there was no danger. She +would have liked to watch, too, but I was put in charge.” +</p> + +<p> +Christopher cautiously opened the door and allowed me to peep in, +and my heart was lightened at the sight of Archie sleeping quietly, +his brown curls hidden beneath a mass of bandages, but his face +composed and natural. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, Christopher,” I said. “You are a brave lad.” +</p> + +<p> +“There were lots more better than me,” he said, modestly, “but we +didn't have a chance, for all that.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me something of what happened.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don't know what happened after it began. I only saw the back of +the man in front of me, and was too busy with my piece to think of +anything else, until I saw my Captain in trouble, and then my hands +were full, for the rest of the day. After I hear some of the old +powder-eaters talk, madam, I'll be able to make up a fine story +for you,” he said, with a bright laugh that to me sounded like an +echo. +</p> + +<p> +I hastened to our room, and there found Angélique in a state of +exultation. +</p> + +<p> +“Victory, Marguerite! As I told you! Our troops are on the Heights +and hold the General Hospital, and the English are trapped in these +crazy walls!” But in an instant she calmed herself and said, +earnestly, “Now is the time for you to save us all!” +</p> + +<p> +“I save you all? What do you mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mean, Marguerite? Listen to those cries and the fighting. Do you +know what they mean? They mean that the men, the whole garrison on +which the English depend, is mad with drink and defeat—and Lévis +scarce a mile away with his victorious army! Just one word to him, +Marguerite, and we are saved; he will be in the town before the +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, but how can it be sent? What can I do?” +</p> + +<p> +“Carry it to him!” +</p> + +<p> +“Angélique, are you mad? How could I carry it?” +</p> + +<p> +“There is your answer,” she cried, pointing to Archie's uniform. +“You will put these things on, and you can pass the gate without +a question. Come, undress at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Angélique, I cannot! Let me go as I am and I will not hesitate, +but—” +</p> + +<p> +“For shame, Marguerite!” cried the high-spirited girl. “For shame! +to think of yourself and such school-girl prudery at such a time! +But forgive me, chérie; I did not quite mean that. I know what you +feel. But do you think I would hesitate had I your height and could +I speak English? No, a thousand times no! Marguerite, it must be +done! You are the only woman—the only person, man or woman—in +Quebec who can do it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Angélique,” I cried, in an agony of distress, “think of my own +people here; it would be almost like betraying them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, think of them, but think of them as soldiers of King George +against whom you were praying night and day, not so many years ago, +as you have said yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“But there is my brother!” +</p> + +<p> +“He is safe in bed down-stairs; and when he is a prisoner, Marguerite, +I give you my word of honour I will go to M. de Lévis and claim +him for myself, like a squaw;” and she laughed merrily. +</p> + +<p> +“How can you laugh, Angélique? Don't you see what it means to me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don't you see what it means to us, Marguerite? You know how we +have hoped and suffered. You have lived among us and shared everything +we had to give, joy and sorrow alike. Do you owe nothing to us? +You were defended by him who lies in his grave below when a jealous +woman would have branded you as a spy. Do you owe nothing to the +Marquis de Montcalm? Do you owe nothing to those others who stood +between you and her malice?” +</p> + +<p> +“Angélique, do you think you need remind me of these things?” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me, chérie, if I am ungracious enough to urge the claim +of benefits bestowed. This is no time for pretty speeches. I would +urge anything to decide you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not that. If I could go as I am, and simply risk capture, +or even death, I would not hesitate.” +</p> + +<p> +“You cannot go as you are! A woman could not even pass through the +streets to-night; but no one will look twice at a uniform.” +</p> + +<p> +“But I cannot. Think what it will mean to me if I am discovered; +think what it will mean even if I succeed.” +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, Marguerite, you must forget what you are! You must +forget what you can do, and what you cannot do! Forget everything, +save that these tidings must reach M. de Lévis to-night, and that +you are the only one who can carry them. There! Begin to undress +at once! Quick! Quick! Any further delay may render all useless.” +</p> + +<p> +Might this not be the reparation for any share I had had in the +failure of Sarennes to return to succour Louisbourg? If I accepted +it and proved successful, would not I carry into my new vocation +something more than the failure of a life that had sought but its +own ends? If I failed, would not I have attempted at least something +for those who had so generously befriended me? Was not my shrinking +from the ordeal of the disguise but a harking back to those little +conventions which I had resolved to cast aside forever? Could I +make a better use of my life than to lay it down, if need be, in +such a cause? +</p> + +<p> +Reasoning thus, I caught something of the intensity of purpose +which dominated Angélique, and with fingers as eager as her own I +prepared myself for my venture. +</p> + +<p> +“What if I am stopped and spoken to in the town?” +</p> + +<p> +“Don't be stopped,” she laughed, “and you mustn't speak unless your +life depends on it. Carry your sword in your hand, so it won't trip +you up, square your shoulders, and try to swagger like a man. Once +outside the walls, you run no danger at all. Keep on the Ste. Foye +Road, and you are sure to fall in with our people and be captured +in due form. Then say, 'Gentlemen, I am a most important prisoner; +take me at once to M. le général!' et v'là! the trick is done! +Nothing easier; if I had only learned to speak your barbarous +language, and were a little taller, I would be in your shoes +to-night, and wouldn't change places with the best lady in +Versailles!” +</p> + +<p> +Chattering and laughing thus in her excitement, she shortened up +straps and adjusted buckles with as many jests as though dressing +me for a masquerade. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0252-large.jpg" name="picture-0252"> + <img src="images/picture-0252-small.jpg" + alt="She shortened up straps and adjusted buckles."/></a> + +<p> +“There!” she cried, as she coiled up my hair tightly, “we must do +without the wig, but the bonnet will cover a multitude of sins. +You are as pretty a looking fellow as the heart of woman could +desire. Nothing is wanting now but a brave carriage! Walk up and +down like this, till I see,” and she did her best to imitate a +martial stride. “Courage, chérie! you are pale as a ghost. Courage! +and remember every heart true to France will pray for you, whether +you win or lose. You are carrying the fate of the colony in your +hands to-night. Let me kiss you, chérie. Again. Bah! I'm only crying +because I can't go in your stead. Come, I will let you out.” +</p> + +<p> +When the side door of the convent shut behind me and I found myself +alone in the darkness of the narrow street, my courage wellnigh +failed me, and with shame in my heart I realised I was trembling +so I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. But the rain +dashed into my face by the high wind revived me, and with an effort +I went on. As I made my way down past the Jesuits my courage +gradually returned, and resolutely thinking of my mission alone, +I banished my fears to such extent that I was enabled to grasp my +sword firmly, and step forward with some show of assurance. +</p> + +<p> +As I turned into rue St. Jean a drunken soldier struck terror into +me again by shouting out a convivial salutation in Gaelic, but his +more sober comrades silenced him with low curses at his imprudence, +and I went on, unmolested. +</p> + +<p> +There were not so many in the streets as I had expected, and with +this one exception no one noticed me; but as I drew near to the +St. John's Gate I made out a crowd of men busily engaged in +barricading it, and for a moment I stood still in bewildered +helplessness. I had so resolved on leaving the town by this means +that when I found it closed against me it seemed as if my whole +plan had failed. With my heart beating so I could hardly see to +direct my steps, I turned back along the way I had come, and it +was not until I drew near the Palace Hill I remembered there were +other exits. Gaining fresh courage, I turned down and made my way +to the Palace Gate, when, for the first time, it struck me that a +password must be given, and of it I was ignorant. I did not even +know the forms necessary to pass the men, and if an officer were +present I must be discovered at once; but it was now too late to +draw back, as I was in full view of the guard. +</p> + +<p> +It was a strange time to remember such things, but the first line +of poor Lucy's hymn kept ringing in my head, and I advanced, saying +over and over to myself, like a charm: +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Thou very present Aid</span> + <span class="i0">In suffering and distress.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +When I was almost face to face with the guard I made out it was +composed of sailors, and just as I expected to hear the words which +meant discovery and disgrace, one said to the other in a tone of +authority: “The Seventy-eighth. It's all right!” and without +challenging me they presented arms. Had I even known the password +I could not have pronounced it, for my tongue clave to the roof of +my mouth; but seeing my intent, the man who had spoken stepped +before me and opened the wicket. I raised my hand in acknowledgment, +and passed through. +</p> + +<p> +I was without the walls. +</p> + +<h2><a name="PART_III">Part III</a></h2> + +<p> +MAXWELL'S STORY +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Adieu, paniers, vendange sont faite.</i>” — Old Proverb. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h2> + +<p> +I CLOSE ONE ACCOUNT AND OPEN ANOTHER +</p> + +<p> +Portentous as were its results, I have never been able to look upon +the battle of the 13th of September as adding anything of value to +military knowledge. From a technical view it never attained the +dignity of battle at any point, and only exceeded a skirmish in +the heavy losses and the deaths of the leading generals on each +side. +</p> + +<p> +The recognition of their efforts, and of those who so ably replaced +them by their respective governments and contemporaries, read as +a sorry commentary on the popular distribution of honours. +</p> + +<p> +Wolfe, almost a tyro, at one bound won immortality and immediate +applause from his countrymen; Montcalm, almost a veteran, though +mourned by those about him, was persistently vilified, even after +death, by the very man who should have been his most loyal supporter; +I do not hesitate to name M. de Vaudreuil—and I am not aware of +even a head-stone having been raised to his memory. +</p> + +<p> +On the other hand, his successor, the Chevalier de Lévis, met with +fitting reward and honourable advancement in his profession, and +the titles of Duke and Marshal of France are now borne with dignity +by one whose natural nobility of soul renders him eminently worthy +of such honours. +</p> + +<p> +To complete the contrast, the Honourable James Murray, who succeeded +Wolfe, held an unprotected city in an enemy's country throughout +a distressing winter, handled his slender troops with contagious +enthusiasm, fought and lost a desperate battle like a gallant +soldier; later on he governed a conquered people with a consummate +tact, and still serves his country with distinction—to meet with +no other reward, that I ever heard of, than the approbation of his +conscience and the admiration of all honest men. +</p> + +<p> +In writing thus openly I must disclaim any intention of carping, +for I would scorn to deprive either of the illustrious dead of a +single laurel in the crown so nobly won, but the very generosity +of contemporary admiration has a tendency to work injustice towards +the survivors. +</p> + +<p> +I know personally, for I afterwards had abundant opportunity of +judging, with what stoutness of heart did that admirable soldier, +General Murray, support his misgivings, when he saw the last English +frigate sail from Quebec in the late autumn of '59, bearing his +more fortunate comrades to the reward of their gallantry, while he +and his little garrison were left in a ruined town to face all the +chances of war, to which were added the unknown dangers of a dreaded +winter season. +</p> + +<p> +On our side we made our headquarters in Montreal, where the military +were busy enough, while the officials and other unemployed +classes—priests, women, and school-boys—beguiled their inaction, +and cheated themselves into hopefulness by the most chimerical and +fantastical projects for the retaking of Quebec that ever deluded +the human mind. +</p> + +<p> +The truth is, we were as miserable a lot of devils on both sides +as one could well imagine. In Quebec, the English were half-starved, +half-frozen, wholly without pay, and without reliable information. +In Montreal, we had enough to eat, we were as gay as the clergy, +M. de Vaudreuil, and our miserable plight would permit; we were +without pay, it is true, but to that we had been long accustomed; +but we had the most exact information as to what went on in Quebec, +thanks to friends within its walls, while our non-fighting orders, +ever at the height of certainty or the depth of despair, had so +befooled themselves with their infallible schemes of conquest, that +they looked forward to the spring campaign with a confidence almost +pitiable in the eyes of thinking men. +</p> + +<p> +Early in April, M. de Lévis gathered together his motley army; the +remnants of the brigades of Béarn La Reine, La Sarre, Royal +Roussillon, Berri, and La Marine, less than four thousand in all, +with about three thousand militia and volunteers, and, supported +by a few miserable cannon, marched forth to sit down before Quebec. +</p> + +<p> +We were disappointed in our first plan of attack, but on the 28th +of April, 1760, we had the good fortune to meet Murray face to face +almost on the very ground where Wolfe and Montcalm had fought in +the previous September. +</p> + +<p> +Murray's force was somewhat smaller than ours, but more than equalled +it in quality, being all regular troops, besides which he had +somewhat the advantage of position; but, falling into the same +error as Montcalm, he abandoned this to begin the attack, and the +same result followed. +</p> + +<p> +The battle of Ste. Foye will always command the respect of men of +discretion without regard to the side which may engage their +sympathies. +</p> + +<p> +There we met a foe as brave as the heart of soldier could desire +who for hours disputed every foot of ground with us, and the one +error of the action on our part was rectified with a precision so +admirable that it but heightened the honours of the day. Before I +record this, I must note a personal incident. +</p> + +<p> +Immediately in front of our left, where the regiments of Béarn and +La Sarre were stationed, stood a mill and its dependencies, belonging, +I believe, to one called Dumont, and though its possession was not +of the slightest strategical importance, by one of those strange +chances of battle it became the centre of the most obstinate fighting +on both sides. Our grenadiers took possession of it, and held it +until driven out at the point of dirk and claymore by the Highlanders, +who in turn were dislodged after a desperate hand-to-hand struggle, +whereupon the whole contest recommenced. M. de Lévis, annoyed by +the useless waste of men and the danger of expending such effort +and attention on so misleading an object, sent me with orders to +have our men withdrawn. +</p> + +<p> +When I arrived the struggle was again at its height, both sides +were fighting with the simple ferocity of savages, unmindful of +every rule of war. There was neither direction nor command; it was +man against man in a mad, unmeaning struggle for the pleasure of +mastery. +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon, monsieur,” I said to the Chevalier d'Aiguebelle, who +commanded the grenadiers, “but M. de Lévis sends positive orders +that you must withdraw your men. You are distracting the attention +of the whole left.” +</p> + +<p> +Then catching sight of the officer in command of Fraser's I rode +forward and saluted. As he answered my salute I saw it was my once +prisoner, Nairn. +</p> + +<p> +“Call off your men, Captain Nairn!” I shouted. “This is simply +murder! I have given orders for ours to withdraw. There is no loss +of honour on either side.” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0260-large.jpg" name="picture-0260"> + <img src="images/picture-0260-small.jpg" + alt="Call off your men Captain Nairn."/></a> + +<p> +Without a moment's hesitation he rushed among them, commanding and +striking up swords right and left, while we did the same. When our +object was attained, he turned to me and said: +</p> + +<p> +“Hark you, sir! I am ready enough to join in avoiding useless +slaughter, but I have an account to square with you, for which +there shall be no calling off when we meet. Remember that!” +</p> + +<p> +I laughed and saluted, mightily intrigued at what his meaning might +be, and then rode off to attend on the General. +</p> + +<p> +Meantime the fighting along the line had been severe, and the +enemy's artillery had told on us with such effect that at last our +centre wavered and began to give way. Supported by a wood, our +left stood firm within about twenty paces of the foe, when a flurried +adjutant ran along the line with orders to make a half-turn to the +right and retire to some houses in the rear. +</p> + +<p> +M. Malartic, major of La Sarre, stood aghast; it virtually meant +retreat, and retreat in such a position invited certain destruction. +He hurried over to M. de Barroute, a captain of Béarn, which stood +next to the right, and repeated the order. They agreed at once a +mistake had been made, and an ominous murmur arose from the men as +the news was whispered from one to another. On this M. Dalquier, +their colonel, as fine and experienced an officer as ever drew +sword, rode up, and, inquiring of their difficulty, swept it aside +by crying, “I will take it upon me to disobey the order. Fix +bayonets, mes enfants!” The command was executed in an instant; +then, rising in his stirrups, he swung his sword above his head +and roared in a voice that could be heard all along the line, +“Charge!” +</p> + +<p> +The effect was indescribable; there was one quick, sharp shout of +“Vive le Roi!” and the men went on like so many demons. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at La Sarre!” cried Poulariez, with the Royal Roussillon on +the right, as we marked the sudden confusion and then the charge. +“The English have advanced too far! Ride to the Canadians, Maxwell! +Half-wheel to the left, and we fall on their flank!” +</p> + +<p> +It was the deciding-point of the battle. The English line was thrown +into complete disorder, and thence forward there was nothing but +hand-to-hand fighting of the fiercest description, which lasted +until it ended in the utter rout of the enemy. +</p> + +<p> +At one point I saw M. de Boucherville, who carried the flag of the +Montreal troops, go down in a mêlée, but the colours were saved by +the determined gallantry of M. de Sarennes, who carried them off +amid a storm of cheers. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo, Sarennes!” I called to him as he rode past a moment later. +“Your lady-love should have seen that!” +</p> + +<p> +“Go to the devil!” he roared back at me, with the voice and gesture +of the boor he really was at bottom, but my hands were too full +either to wonder at his insult or demand an explanation. +</p> + +<p> +I will make no attempt to follow the detail of the action; it is +enough to say the honours rested with us. We stood victorious over +the same foe that had defeated us on the same ground six months +before. We had regained the Heights, regained the General Hospital, +and it remained to be seen how soon we might sweep over its ruined +ramparts into Quebec and hold it once more for King Louis. +</p> + +<p> +As I entered the Hospital towards evening to report to M. de Lévis, +one of the sisters addressed me: “Pardon, monsieur, but are you +the Chevalier de Maxwell?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, ma soeur.” +</p> + +<p> +“M. Dalquier wishes to speak with you. He lies here.” +</p> + +<p> +I found that fine old soldier lying on a bed faint from a wound he +had received at the very moment he made his decisive charge, but +which had not prevented him holding his place for some time later. +He smiled bravely as he held out his hand to me. +</p> + +<p> +“These confounded surgeons will not allow me to speak in person, +but I wish you, Chevalier, to thank the General for me. Did you +hear about it? No? Then, listen. Just after our charge was made, +and we had formed again, he rode up. 'Here is the devil to pay,' +I said to myself, and was framing my defence in short order, when, +'M. Dalquier,' he said, so that all about could hear, 'the King +owes you his thanks for not making that half-turn. Hold your position +for five minutes, and I will answer for the battle.' Did you ever +hear anything like it? Think of a general making such an +acknowledgment, and before my men, too! Mort Dieu, Chevalier! Tell +him I would rather have this to remember than wear the Cross of +St. Louis. Go!” And he turned away his face, to hide the tears that +spake of his overwhelming satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +“I will see him as soon as I can find a moment,” said M. de Lévis, +when I repeated my message, almost as moved as the old soldier. +“Now, Chevalier, as soon as it falls dark, do you go over the ground +alone, and as close to the town as possible, to see what dispositions +we are to make for our trenches. Mark what Murray has attempted in +the way of defences or outworks. Let me, or M. de Pontleroy, hear +from you to-night, no matter how late the hour. But get some +refreshment before you set out,” he added, thoughtful as ever of +the wants of others. +</p> + +<p> +I sate down for a few moments' rest, and ate something the good +nuns provided, and then borrowing a cloak to serve as a protection +against the drizzling rain which had again set in, I sallied forth. +</p> + +<p> +When I reached the Heights it was puzzlingly dark, though the hour +was early, and I had the utmost difficulty in finding my way. +Corpses of men and horses hindered me, more than once the wounded +appealed to me for help, but I went on unheeding, trying to determine +my exact whereabouts, in order to begin my task. I had approached +near enough the town to see the lights, and could even catch sounds +from the no doubt terrified population, but paid no attention to +anything save my object in hand. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a voice shouted in the darkness, “Halte là!” to which I +promptly replied: +</p> + +<p> +“Etat-major, aide de M. de Lévis.” +</p> + +<p> +“Damn your Etat-major!” was the astonishing reply. “Why don't you +say 'Mistaire Maxwelle'?” in an undescribable attempt at an English +pronunciation of my name. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, come, Sarennes,” I said, for I recognised the tall Canadian, +“have you not got over your ill-humour yet? You nearly insulted me +to-day in the field.” +</p> + +<p> +“I intended to. Do you wish me to repeat my words, or do you not +know when you are insulted, unless you are struck?” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you mad, or only drunk, Sarennes? Get back to camp, man, and +sleep off your fit. We cannot afford to quarrel after such a day +as this.” +</p> + +<p> +“No! you cannot afford to fight at any time. Do you think I am a +woman like her whom you deceived, to be tricked by your lying +tongue?” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, sir!” I commanded. “I am on duty, but my duty must wait +until I have read you a lesson, which, I regret, you will not live +to profit by.” +</p> + +<p> +We could hardly see each other, and it was utterly impossible to +follow the sword-play save by feel; it was not a duel at all; it +was death, sure and swift, for one or perhaps both of us in the +dark. +</p> + +<p> +Sure and swift it was. I lost touch of his blade, and as he lunged +desperately, I avoided his stroke by dropping on my left hand, and +straightening my sword-arm <i>en seconde</i>, ran him clean through the +body as he came forward, his blade passing harmlessly over me. It +was a desperate chance to take, but the stakes were high. +</p> + +<p> +I knelt beside the fallen man and spake to him, but he could not +answer, and in common humanity I rose and hurried off to find some +help. +</p> + +<p> +I had not gone fifty yards before I almost ran up against a man +cautiously making his way over the field. To my astonishment, I +saw he was an officer of Fraser's Highlanders, and commanding him +to halt, I advanced, pistol in hand, and recognized Nairn. +</p> + +<p> +“You are my prisoner, sir,” I declared, covering him as I spake, +and then, the drollery of the situation coming over me, I dropped +my arm and said, “It seems I am in for settling accounts to-night, +Captain Nairn. You were good enough to remind me of some indebtedness +on the field to-day, though what it was I am at a loss to determine. +Perhaps it was my refusal of your handsome offer to me in Louisbourg +that I should turn traitor. No? 'Pon my soul, you are strangely +quiet in private for a gentleman who was so insistent in company! +</p> + +<p> +“Come, draw the sword which you flourished to so little purpose +to-day, and you will find I can pay in the only coin a soldier +should demand or take. +</p> + +<p> +“What! Not ready yet? Would you have me produce my commission as +an officer, or establish my right to arms, before you can cross +swords with me? By God, sir! I will stand no more of your precious +fooling. Do you think you are going to roar out at me in public +like some scurvy shopkeeper, and then stand like a stock-fish when +I do you the honour to ask your pleasure? Draw, sir, draw, before +I am forced to strike you like a coward!” +</p> + +<p> +To my amazement, instead of answering my words as they deserved, +he threw up his hands with a weak cry and covered his face. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0266-large.jpg" name="picture-0266"> + <img src="images/picture-0266-small.jpg" + alt="He threw up his hands with a weak cry and covered his face."/></a> + +<p> +Supposing him to be wounded, I melted in a moment, and, stepping +forward, held out my hand to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Come, sir, come! You are unnerved. Tell me, are you hit?” +</p> + +<p> +As I spake I still advanced to support him, and was surprised beyond +measure when the supposed officer retreated before me and cried, +in a voice of intense womanish entreaty, “No, no; do not touch me!” +</p> + +<p> +I burst out laughing. “'Pon my soul, madam! you came near being +somewhat late, with your embargo, and you have betrayed me into an +exhibition of the vilest humour, for which I most humbly apologise.” +</p> + +<p> +She seemed somewhat uncertain how to take my drolling, whereupon +I changed my tone, and asked, with every appearance of curiosity, +“May I inquire how I can be of service to you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Am I within the French lines?” +</p> + +<p> +“No; you are on what may still be considered debatable ground. But +I cannot give information to a lady whose masquerade is at least +suspicious.” +</p> + +<p> +“I only ask, sir, to be taken within your lines. Will you do this +for me?” +</p> + +<p> +“I doubt it, madam, unless you can show me you have good right to +be there. You are not a Frenchwoman.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I am not, but I carry important information for your General.” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, madam, but the General is fully occupied,” I said, in +my most repelling manner. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, I have come thus far at great risk to myself, and my news is +of the utmost importance. Let me go on alone, if you will not take +me in yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Madam, I have not the honour to be known to you, but, believe me, +my advice is of the best when I tell you that your way is open to +the town again. Take it, madam, and think nothing more of this +escapade, but that you were fortunate to have fallen in with one +who could advise so soundly.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is no escapade, sir; it has been a matter of life or death +to me, and it is almost as much to your General,” she said, with +such earnestness that I could not doubt her intentions. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, madam, if you are determined, I will take you. You cannot +possibly go on alone; there are too many Indians engaged in their +usual pastime of looking after white scalps. But first I must seek +for help for a wounded officer, and then must complete my work. +Follow me closely, but give me your word you will not attempt any +tricks,” I said; for I have never been prepossessed in favour of +adventurous damsels, and I misdoubted the value of her alleged +information. +</p> + +<p> +“That will not answer. I must go on at once! I cannot wait.” +</p> + +<p> +“It seems to me you are hardly in a position to choose, madam,” I +replied, amused at her decision. +</p> + +<p> +She hesitated a moment, and then said, desperately: +</p> + +<p> +“Do you know who I am, Hugh Maxwell? I am Margaret Nairn!” +</p> + +<p> +Had the solid ground opened beneath my feet I could not have been +more confounded. +</p> + +<p> +“Margaret!” I cried, when I could find my voice. “Margaret—here? +I cannot understand. Speak to me again!” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Hugh, I am Margaret—Margaret Nairn. I am Mme. de St. Just.” +</p> + +<p> +“You have been here all along and never let me know? I cannot +understand.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do not try to understand now. Hugh! I beseech you to take me on +trust and help me to go on.” +</p> + +<p> +But as she spake I caught sight of a moving light. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not speak another word. Some one is coming. Crouch down here +until I see who it is.” +</p> + +<p> +Advancing cautiously, I discovered the light came from a lanthorn, +by the aid of which a priest was examining the bodies, hoping, no +doubt, to discover some unfortunate who needed his ministrations. +He would serve me for Sarennes. +</p> + +<p> +“Mon père,” I said, advancing, “may I beg your assistance for a +wounded officer?” +</p> + +<p> +“Willingly. Lead me to him. Who is he? +</p> + +<p> +“M. de Sarennes.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, I know him well.” +</p> + +<p> +I directed him to where Sarennes lay, and then returned to Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +“I must wait until I see if anything can be done here before we +go. Come with me for a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +The priest took no notice of us as we knelt beside the dying man, +and Margaret, exclaiming with pity as she saw him, lifted his head +and supported it in her lap. +</p> + +<p> +Sarennes opened his eyes and looked up into her face. He tried to +speak, but no sound came from his moving lips. +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Requiem aeternam dona ei, Domine,</span> + <span class="i0">Et lux perpetua luceat ei,”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +prayed the priest, and even as we responded the unhappy spirit took +its flight. Margaret bowed her head, and her tears fell on the dead +face in her lap. +</p> + +<p> +Most of us have been in circumstances where the killing of a man +was a necessity, and have suffered no qualms of conscience thereat. +I certainly had no compunctions on the outcome of my meeting with +M. de Sarennes, and yet, at the sight of Margaret's tears, the +natural feelings triumphed over the intellectual, and I joined +fervently in the prayers of the priest. +</p> + +<p> +He now appeared to notice Margaret for the first time, and lifting +his lanthorn, he held it so that the light shone full upon her; as +she raised her head in surprise, I could see he recognised her. +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0268-large.jpg" name="picture-0268"> + <img src="images/picture-0268-small.jpg" + alt="Lifting his lanthorn, he held it so that the light shone full upon her."/></a> + +<p> +“Marguerite!” he cried, in a voice of reproach. +</p> + +<p> +“Why do you speak to me thus, mon père? Why do you speak thus?” +she repeated, with alarm in her accents. +</p> + +<p> +“Marguerite, is it possible you do not know me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Know you? Why do you ask? Why do you call me by my name? You are +le père Jean.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am le père Jean—but I was Gaston de Trincardel!” +</p> + +<p> +“What!” she cried, almost with terror, as she sprang to her feet. +</p> + +<p> +“I am Gaston de Trincardel,” he repeated, unmoved. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, why do you tell me this? At such a time...” she moaned, and +I stepped to her side, for her cry went to my heart. +</p> + +<p> +“I tell you this because I must try to bring you to your senses. +Why are you here in disguise? A shameful disguise,” he repeated, +scornfully. “Whose hand slew this man before us?” +</p> + +<p> +“Mine!” I interrupted, for I could not stand by and see her meet +his attack alone. +</p> + +<p> +“Why are you here beside one who may be little better than a +murderer?” he continued to her, without heeding me in the least. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir, you are free to put any construction on my act you choose, +as I cannot make you answer for your words,” I interrupted again. +</p> + +<p> +“One from whom I have striven with all my power as a priest to keep +you?” he went on, still ignoring me. “Since that has failed, I +must try and appeal to your gratitude towards her who was your +protector when you were but a girl. In some sense I stand as her +representative, and I charge you by her memory to renounce this +last folly which has led you here.” +</p> + +<p> +“Stop, Gaston!” she cried. “Every word you say would be an insult +did it come from another. But I have too high a reverence for you +as a priest, the remembrance of your unfailing charity is too +strong, to answer except by an explanation. Never mind appearances! +I am here in this disguise because it afforded the only possible +escape from the town, and my object is to carry word to M. de Lévis +that everything within the walls is in the most complete disorder, +the garrison is mad with drink, and he has but to march on the town +at once to effect its capture.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you dreaming?—the town helpless?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, it is his, if he can but advance without delay.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then, forgive me! I was wrong—a hundred times wrong!” +</p> + +<p> +“Just one moment. My meeting with M. de Maxwell is as much by chance +as your meeting with me,” she added, with a decision which I thought +perhaps unnecessary. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me, Marguerite,” he repeated, in his usual tone; “and you +too, Chevalier. I wronged you both. Now to make amends. Will you +lead us to the General?” he said, turning to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Come,” I said, and we each held out a hand to Margaret. +</p> + +<p> +“Stand!” thundered a voice in English at two paces from us. “You +are all covered!” +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h2> + +<p> +I FIND A KEY TO MY DILEMMA +</p> + +<p> +“We are your prisoners!” I answered, instantly, for the slightest +hesitation on such occasions may lead to the most serious results. +Explanations can be made subsequently, but a bullet from an +over-zealous musket can never be recalled. +</p> + +<p> +In an instant they were beside us, a sergeant and six men, all +Highlanders. I was about to speak again, but before I could do so +Margaret stepped up to the sergeant, and taking him by the sleeve +whispered a few words in his ear. He thereupon gave some instructions +in Gaelic to his men, who closed round me and the priest, and, +moving off a few paces with her, they spake earnestly together for +a little. What she said I do not know, but in a moment he faced +about, and picking up the lanthorn, examined me in turn. +</p> + +<p> +“Your name and rank, sir?” he said to me. +</p> + +<p> +“Hugh Maxwell, captain.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless me, sir! But this is not the first time I have heard +your name, nor seen you, if you'll excuse my saying it,” he said, +most earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +“Like enough. What is your name?” +</p> + +<p> +“Neil Murray, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“And a very good name it is; but I cannot say I recall it.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you will remember the march to Derby, sir, and Lord George?” +he asked, eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“I am never likely to forget it. Were you there?” +</p> + +<p> +“Where else would I be when my grandfather was own cousin to his?” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I suppose there's no treason now in shaking hands over so +old a story, Neil?” I said, extending my hand, which he grasped +heartily, and relations were established between us. +</p> + +<p> +He then turned to the priest. “Your name, your reverence?” +</p> + +<p> +“Le pére Jean, missionary.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, gentlemen, it cannot be helped. You must both follow us into +the town.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave his orders briefly, and blowing out the lanthorn, took +Margaret by the arm, supporting her as one might a wounded man, +and so we set off. It was evident the quick-witted sergeant possessed +that invaluable qualification of the successful soldier, the +readiness to carry out as well as to devise a plan; for in handling +the lanthorn he had never once allowed the light to fall on Margaret, +and by his happy pretence of her being wounded, he avoided the +awkward necessity of handing over the command to her as his superior. +That he would do his best to shelter her from any scrutiny or +questioning was evident, and I was too thankful for the result to +puzzle over the probable means by which it was attained. As like +as not, by the very simple expedient of telling the truth—a +wonderfully efficacious measure at times, when you know your man. +</p> + +<p> +A quick, hard scramble brought us down to the level of the Palais; +we passed the Intendance, black and deserted, and so on towards +the foot of the Côte du Palais. When we reached the gate the +sergeant halted us; the sign and countersign were given, whereupon +the wicket was opened. +</p> + +<p> +Passing his arm about Margaret, who leaned upon him heavily, the +sergeant skilfully interposed himself between her and the officer +in charge, and gave his report: “Neil Murray, sergeant, 78th, six +men, two prisoners, and one of our own, wounded,” and on we marched +up the slippery hill without a moment's unnecessary delay. +</p> + +<p> +As soon as we were beyond sight of the gate our pace was slackened, +and, now that all immediate danger of discovery for Margaret was +at an end, I fell to wondering at the extraordinary chance which +again brought me face to face with her who had proved the +turning-point in my life. Little by little I pieced out the puzzle, +and the more I brought it together, the more I wondered, but in a +vague, disjointed fashion, that led to no solution. My confused +thoughts were interrupted by our party halting in front of the +Convent of the Ursulines, where, to my relief, I saw the sergeant +lead Margaret round towards the side entrance. +</p> + +<p> +“May I ask where you are taking us?” I said, when we again began +our march, putting the question more to set my mind working again +than out of curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +“Where else would we be going but to the General?” +</p> + +<p> +“And where has he found quarters in this stone heap? You have made +a fine mess of things with your battering,” I said, for the evidence +of their fire on the town was surprising. +</p> + +<p> +“Have we not!” he exclaimed, with true soldierly pride. “But there +will be a corner or two, here and there, that was out of our reach. +It was a God's mercy for ourselves that we didn't have our will of +the whole town, or there's many a poor fellow would have made a +bad winter of it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I dare say you found it bad enough as it was, eh, Neil?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may say that, sir! There's been a deal to put up with for both +high and low. But here we will be at the General's.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spake we drew up before a house in the rue St. Louis, and +were ushered into an anteroom, where we were left under guard, +while our conductor departed to make his report. +</p> + +<p> +I was not permitted to speak with my fellow-prisoner, and so went +back to my wonderings. It was Margaret—that is, Mme. de St. +Just—who had befriended Lucy on shipboard, and protected her since. +What a marvellous happening, that these two women, of all others +in the world, should have thus been thrown together! That she now +knew of my relation towards Lucy I could not doubt; and though I +had preferred it might have come about otherwise, I bitterly +reflected that an estimate of my character was no longer of supreme +importance to her, now she was a married woman. Though I had been +doing my utmost all these years of exile to school myself to a +frame of mind in which I might look upon her as unapproachable for +me, now that I found an insurmountable barrier existed, not of my +own raising, with the inconsistence of mankind, I straight rebelled +against it. What a climax to every irony of fate! To find myself +free, and she, whom I had so hopelessly loved, another's. Yet what +did the priest mean when he said he had been trying to keep me from +her? I looked across the room at his impassive face, and felt I +would give much for five minutes alone with him. Then an explanation +would be forthcoming in some shape. +</p> + +<p> +From this coil I was aroused by the entrance of an officer to summon +us into the presence of the General, and for the first time I +considered my personal situation. Not that I had anything to fear, +for, in those days, war was a profession, and an officer was treated +as a gentleman by his opponent once active hostilities ceased, or +were even suspended; but the consequence of my capture would +certainly mean for me the loss of any advantage I might otherwise +have gained from our success. Now my name would figure in no +despatches, unless as “missing,” a bitter disappointment, when I +had so slowly and painfully gained something of a position. But I +had no time to reason it out before we had crossed the threshold +of the General's room. +</p> + +<p> +He was a clear-featured, bright-eyed man of thirty-five or forty, +visibly harassed with the hard fortune of the day, but he did not +allow his preoccupation to affect his bearing towards us. +</p> + +<p> +“Reverend sir,” he said, addressing the priest, “I take it for +granted you are a non-combatant, but as it has fallen to your lot +to be brought within our lines, you must perforce remain a prisoner. +If you will satisfy me as to your name and position, I shall judge +if I can grant you the less galling restrictions of parole.” +</p> + +<a href="images/picture-0276-large.jpg" name="picture-0276"> + <img src="images/picture-0276-small.jpg" + alt="I take it for granted you are a non-combatant."/></a> + +<p> +The priest smiled. “I appreciate the reasonableness of the condition, +your Excellency. My full name is Jean Marie Gaston de Caldeguès, +Vicomte de Trincardel, but for years I have borne none other than +'le père Jean, missionary to the Indians.'” +</p> + +<p> +“That is perfectly satisfactory, sir. I shall be pleased to allow +you parole within the walls, only restricting you from approaching +those parts of the town where our defences are now placed. I shall +give you an order for quarters at the Ursulines, though doubtless +the good ladies would readily receive you even without my +introduction.” As he spake he accompanied the priest to the door, +where he gave his instructions to an aide in waiting. +</p> + +<p> +He then turned to me and extended his hand. “Chevalier, we have +already had the pleasure of some slight correspondence.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have to thank your Excellency for as great a courtesy as one +man can shew towards another. When I wrote, I ventured to mention +my acquaintance with your Excellency's brother, Lord Elibank, not +that I relied on anything else than your Excellency's natural +sensibility for the acceptance of my request, but that I might in +that manner help to establish my identity.” +</p> + +<p> +“Believe me, Chevalier,” he returned, with emphasis, “that was +totally unnecessary. I was quite aware that you were in Canada. A +man does not easily slip out of sight so long as he remains among +his own class.” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency overwhelms me; such a recognition goes far to make +up for the years of disappointment I have endured.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us speak plainly, without further compliments on either +side,” he said, smiling gravely. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing could please me better, your Excellency.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will not even be necessary to keep up the 'Excellency.' I shall +call you Kirkconnel, after the good homely Scots' fashion, if you +have not forgotten.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgotten! That is one of the curses of my Scotch blood. I cannot +forget!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there is hope for you yet, Kirkconnel! For you have something +behind you worth remembering.” +</p> + +<p> +“I cannot say it oppresses me with any great sense of obligation, +for I would find some difficulty in naming it at the moment.” +</p> + +<p> +“Tut, tut, man!” he exclaimed, heartily. “Don't tell me that a man +who played his part as well as you in '45 need mourn over it.” +</p> + +<p> +“We're getting out towards the thin ice now, are we not, General?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not for me; though I dare say some members of my house might have +to guard their steps more carefully. But to go on: you followed +what you and your forbears held to be The Cause, and to which you +held your honour pledged, and you saw it through to the bitter end. +Then, instead of mixing yourself up in a miserable farrago of +pot-house plots and chamber-mysteries which have only served to +turn some honest men into rogues, you have acted like a soldier, +and done only a soldier's work. And, best of all, you have succeeded. +You have much that is worth remembering, Kirkconnel!” +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency is most kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“I prefer to be plain. Why not drop this whole business?” +</p> + +<p> +“How can I? You would not urge me to come over because I happen to +be a prisoner to-day? I may be exchanged to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +“That you shall not, I'll answer for it! I have no intention to +give M. de Lévis the assistance of even one more artillery officer, +if I can help it. No, no! I shall keep you fast while I can, but +'tis only in the event of my holding the winning cards in this +affair that I would urge you to send in your submission and take +your place beside us, your natural comrades, where you belong. +What chance of promotion, or even of recognition, will you run, if +M. de Lévis has to leave Canada in our hands?” +</p> + +<p> +“None whatever. I have never deceived myself for a moment on that +point.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then be sensible, and, like a sensible man, make a sensible move +when the time comes!” he exclaimed, with the greatest good feeling. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid I am too old a fool to be sensible at any time on such +a subject. But I thank your Excellency from the bottom of my heart,” +I returned, as warmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Nonsense, man! I would not have spoken had I not been taken with +you. But there! I am not a recruiting officer,” he said, with a +laugh. “Think well over what I have said; I am not pressing for an +answer.” Thereupon he turned the subject, and we fell into a +conversation over the events of the past summer and winter. I +answered such questions as I could in regard to our present position, +for there was no advantage to be gained by undue concealment, and +his consideration spared me any embarrassment. +</p> + +<p> +When our interview ended he thanked me very handsomely, and regretted +he could not offer me the hospitality of his own roof, but provided +for me in the Ursulines, granting me the same parole as the priest. +</p> + +<p> +“You will find among your countrymen an odd rebel here and there, +Kirkconnel; but I rely on you to stir up no fresh treason with +'White Cockades,' or 'Bonnie Charlies,' or any other of the old +shibboleths.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have no anxieties on that score, your Excellency; I have had too +rude an awakening ever to fall a-dreaming again. 'The burnt child.'” +And I bowed, and left in company with the officer told off to see +to my reception. +</p> + +<p> +The General's unlooked-for sympathy had gone far to restore me to +my natural bearing for the moment. It is flattering to any man to +be received by his military superior as a social equal, and Heaven +forbid that I should pretend to a susceptibility less than the +ordinary. I was greatly pleased, therefore, by his recognition, +and to my admiration of his soldierly qualities was now added a +warm appreciation of his interest in me and my fortunes. But no +personal gratification could long blind me to the misery of my real +position. Chance, inclination, and, I think I may honestly add, +principle, had kept my affections disengaged and, my heart whole, +without any reasonable expectation of ever realising my life's +desire, and now I had stumbled upon it, only to find it inexorably +withheld from me, and every avenue to its attainment closed. Could +I have gone on to the end without actually meeting with Margaret, +I could have borne it with the silent endurance which had supported +me so far, and had, in large measure, become a habit; but now every +regret, every passionate longing, every haunting memory which time +had lulled into seeming slumber, awoke to wring my heart at the +very moment when I believed the bitterness to have passed forever. +</p> + +<p> +The first to welcome me at the convent was my son Kit. Heavens! +how tall and well-looking the boy had grown, and with what feeling +did I take him in my arms. He returned my embrace with equal +affection, and when we settled down, spake of his mother's death +with much natural feeling. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Lucy! She had had a narrow life of it with the exception of +the year we had lived together. What a light-hearted, merry little +soul she then was! She had no education in the general sense, but +was possessed of so lively a sympathy that she entered into all +that appealed to me with an enjoyment and an appreciation that no +mere learning could have supplied. She may have lacked the bearing +and carriage of a great lady, but what stateliness of manner can +rival the pretty softnesses of a gentle girl wholly in love. She +was not strictly beautiful, but she had the charm of constant +liveliness, and her unfailing content and merriment more than made +up for any irregularity in feature. This was the woman I had left, +and I have already told what she was when I returned. It was not +so much her nature that was at fault, poor thing! as the atrophy +of soul resulting from an ungenerous form of religion. +</p> + +<p> +I cannot but think it safer for both man and woman to continue in +those religions which have received the sanction of authority, than +take up with any new ventures, no matter what superior offers of +salvation they may hold out. And the first step towards this +dangerous ground I believe to be that pernicious habit of idle +speculation on subjects too sacred for open discussion, which might +well be left to their ordained guardians, and not to the curious +guessings of simple and unsophisticated minds. +</p> + +<p> +Kit had much information to give touching others in whom I was +interested. Of Mme. de St. Just he spake, as I would have expected, +with the warmest admiration and gratitude; but after he had informed +me that she was an inmate of the same convent in which we were, I +turned the conversation towards her brother, who, I learned, was +wounded sufficiently to be under the surgeon's care, and was pleased +to gather that Master Kit had made a respectable showing for himself +in the rescue of his Captain. That Mademoiselle de Sarennes was +much concerned in Nairn's condition I was glad to hear, as such an +interest could not fail to be of service when she should learn of +her brother's fate, of which I took care to make no mention, as I +had no desire to figure as the bearer of what must, to her, prove +painful tidings. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Captain is fortunate to engage the sympathies of so fair an +enemy,” was my only remark. +</p> + +<p> +“Why, father, we do not look on them as enemies at all!” he returned, +with the ingenuousness of his years. +</p> + +<p> +“Look you here, Master Kit, I cannot have you calling me 'father'; +it has altogether too responsible a sound, and I do not wish to +begin and bring you to book for matters which may, later on, call +for a parent's judgment. Call me 'Chevalier,' if you like, it is +more companionable, and it is as comrades you and I must live, +unless you wish to have me interfering with you in a manner you +might naturally enough resent later on. I love you heartily my boy, +and it is love, not authority, I wish to be the bond between us. +What do you say yourself?” +</p> + +<p> +“It can never be anything less than that, sir; you know how I was +drawn to you that very first morning, when I entered your room in +Wych Street; you were the finest gentleman I had ever seen.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, you have seen better since, Kit.” +</p> + +<p> +“None better to me, sir.” And he added, hurriedly, as if to cover +his emotion, “Will you come over to us, now that we are victorious?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Kit, Kit, you are a true Englishman! Victorious! Why, great +Heavens! We beat you fifty times over, only to-day! Not that it +will make any great matter in the long run, perhaps, for it is no +question of a single battle for either Lévis or Murray, it is the +arrival of the first ships which will decide this affair. Wait +until they come up, and then it will be time enough to talk of +victory.” +</p> + +<p> +The lad's face fell. “I mean for ourselves,” he said, wistfully; +“this can't go on with us on different sides.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a serious matter for the principals, no doubt, Kit; but +we need not worry over it, for I am not likely to be exchanged, +the way things now are.” +</p> + +<p> +“But when it is decided?” +</p> + +<p> +“Your way, Kit?” +</p> + +<p> +“I mean <i>if</i> it is decided our way,” he corrected. “You will come +back?” +</p> + +<p> +“Come back to what? You forget I am still a proscribed rebel with +a price on my head.” +</p> + +<p> +“But that is long past.” +</p> + +<p> +“So Dr. Archie Cameron thought, but they hanged him like a dog not +so many years ago, and I do not know that he was deeper in the +affair than I. That I am not a very ardent rebel, I will confess; +but I have grown too old in rebellion to shift my character readily. +Besides, I fancy I am more of a Frenchman than an Englishman, or +even a Scotchman; and the worst of such a transmogrification is, +that one grows used to it, and change becomes wellnigh impossible. +But you have chosen wisely, my boy. I wouldn't have you different +for the world!” +</p> + +<p> +“It is not for myself I speak. I am thinking of you, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless you, Kit! I would rather have those words from you than +a free pardon. And now good-night, or rather, good-day. You have +your duties before you, and I must get some sleep;” and I embraced +the generous boy with a full heart. +</p> + +<p> +The next afternoon I set out to look over the town and mark the +effect of the English fire during the bombardment, and could not +but admire how destructive it had been, nor withhold my approval +of the efforts the garrison had put forth during the past winter +to repair the results of their own handiwork. +</p> + +<p> +As I wandered round the Cape I caught sight of le père Jean leaning +against the parapet of la batterie du Clergé, gloomily surveying +the dismal prospect of a river full of drifting ice and a desolate +and half-frozen country beyond. +</p> + +<p> +He turned as I approached, and greeted me with a return of the +manner that was once habitual with him. “I was glad to hear you +found friends last night, Chevalier.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you, yes. I found friends both new and old,” I answered, +glancing at him curiously. +</p> + +<p> +But he had turned towards the river again, and waved his hand +outward. “This is all emblematic of our fortress, I fear +—dissolution,” he said, wearily. +</p> + +<p> +“One might descant on the promise of spring and the renewal of +hope, but in reality I gather as little from the prospect as you +do,” I returned. And side by side we leaned over the parapet, and +continued to indulge our cheerless speculations in silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier,” said the priest, suddenly, but in his usual tone, and +without changing his position, “perhaps I owe you a more formal +apology than was possible last night; but when I found that +Mademoiselle Nairn—” +</p> + +<p> +“Mme. de St. Just,” I corrected. +</p> + +<p> +“It is scarce worth while to keep up that fiction between us,” he +said, as if waiving the most ordinary form in the world, and in +some manner I checked the cry of astonishment that was on my lips, +and remained silent while he continued. “When I found Mademoiselle +Nairn in your company, I too hastily assumed that it was by design +on your part.” +</p> + +<p> +I was so bewildered by this unconscious revelation that I could +make no reply; but, fortunately, he did not mark my agitation, and +went on as though speaking to himself: “Right or wrong, I have been +the means of keeping her from you thus far; and if I have sinned +in so doing, I must bear the consequence.” +</p> + +<p> +As he spake he turned and faced me, but by this I had recovered +command of myself, and saw that his thin face was flushed and drawn +with suffering. “Let me go on,” he said, with decision. “I owe an +explanation to myself as well as to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Just what he said I cannot clearly recall. The revelation he had +made was so astounding, had so completely changed the whole complexion +of my outlook, that my brain could scarce apprehend the import of +his words. I only realised that Margaret was no longer beyond my +reach. The rest mattered not one whit. +</p> + +<p> +When he ceased speaking, I briefly exposed what had been my position +throughout, without reserve or argument, leaving it to him to draw +his own conclusion. +</p> + +<p> +“Chevalier,” cried the priest, heartily, as I ended, “I feel that +any apology would be frivolous in the face of what you have told +me, but I can assure you no man was ever more satisfied to find +himself in the wrong than I.” +</p> + +<p> +“I take that as more than any apology,” I returned, as sincerely. +“But to return to Sarennes. What use did he make of my letter?” +</p> + +<p> +“He attempted such a use that the outcome of your meeting with him +is fully justified.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was justified as it was!” I objected. “I do not fight on trifles. +Do you mean, he tried to persuade Margaret that it referred to +her?” +</p> + +<p> +“He did. And though I was enabled to save her from personal danger, +I could do nothing to relieve the distress he had wrought by these +means.” +</p> + +<p> +“The hound! It would have been a satisfaction to have known this +when I met him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Remember, though, it is entirely owing to the loyalty of his mother +and sister that her position here has been possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is true; but I see as clearly, that her reception by them +was only possible through your answering for her. I owe you +everything.” +</p> + +<p> +“You owe me much,” he said, quietly, as if to himself. And at the +simple words of self-abnegation my heart ached at the thought of +the pain I had involuntarily caused. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry for any family that holds so black a sheep as Sarennes,” +I said, to break the awkward pause that followed. +</p> + +<p> +“His family need know nothing, beyond that he died on the field of +battle, a much more desirable fate than he was likely to meet with +in France, had he lived; for, believe me, information has gone +forward that will insure the trial and, I trust, the punishment of +every peculator who has helped to ruin this miserable colony, no +matter which way the present crisis may turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now that we have confidence in each other, may I ask why you never +let me know of your presence in Canada?” +</p> + +<p> +“To be frank, I had no desire to awaken old associations. So far +as I knew the past was a book that had been read and done with. +Nothing was to be gained by reopening it under the same conditions, +and I had no reason to suppose they could be altered. Remember it +is only now my eyes have been opened, and I see the error of my +warped and ignorant judgment. We have travelled a long road, +Chevalier, to meet in friendship, and I am glad we can so meet at +last. I always regret when my feeling towards an honourable man +cannot go beyond mere liking.” +</p> + +<p> +“Gaston,” I cried, “I never received so handsome a compliment in +all my life!” +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h2> + +<p> +I MAKE A FALSE MOVE +</p> + +<p> +I can make no pretence to marshal the train of thought that swept +through my brain when the priest took his way and left me to myself. +Engrossed as I was with my own affairs, I could not but speculate +on the curious chance that had driven him into a life of renunciation +and me to one of exile at the same time and for the same cause, +and that now brought us together before the woman we both loved. +I use the word advisedly and without any reflection on his integrity; +but it would be an insult to my intelligence could I look on his +face, worn by suffering and emotion, and mark the tone of his voice, +and, most confirmatory of all, the jealous care with which he +avoided any mention of her name, and not acknowledge the presence +there of the gentlest passion that ever refined the soul of man. +He had found abundant opportunity for self-denial and sacrifice in +the career he had chosen, but I doubted if he had found either +peace or entire resignation. During his interview with General +Murray, and especially during his familiar talk with me, I had +caught a dozen reflections of his old bearing and manner, and I +could not believe he had laid aside all human longings and emotions, +however he might refuse to recognise them, when he doffed the +outward habit of his class for the soutane and shovel hat of the +Jesuit. It were childish to think so. +</p> + +<p> +Thus occupied I sate heedless of the hours that went by, until +chilled by the change of the day to evening. As I moved slowly +towards my quarters, the only result of the hours of solitary +thought that remained by me, was that Margaret was unmarried, and +that she had come out to meet with me and for this alone. +</p> + +<p> +That same evening I paid my respects to the Superior, la mère do +la Nativité, a well-bred woman, who should have graced the world +rather than a convent, and to her I proffered my request that I +might be allowed to wait upon Mme. de St. Just. +</p> + +<p> +“Most certainly, monsieur, if it be her desire. She is a guest to +whom we owe much. If you will permit, I will send and inquire.” +</p> + +<p> +In a few moments the sister sent returned with word that Mme. de +St. Just would see the Chevalier de Maxwell at eleven the next +morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, monsieur, you may then meet her here in the parlour,” +added the Superior, pleasantly, and I bowed my thanks and withdrew. +</p> + +<p> +I spent the night in great unrest, inventing imaginary difficulties +when I overthrew those which really existed, picturing the expected +interview in a thousand forms, framing and reframing every appeal +I should make, and so wore out the night in a fever of consuming +anticipation. +</p> + +<p> +I was thankful I had been captured while on staff duty; for I had +ever made it a practice to dress myself with the most scrupulous +attention when going into action, so that death himself might not +find me unprepared—and, thanks to this, I was now enabled to make +a fitting appearance. +</p> + +<p> +The feeling that I was outwardly prepared went far to reassure me, +and when the time came for my meeting I had banished my uneasy +apprehensions of the night, and recovered my habitual confidence. +My sole anxiety was, lest I should fail in conveying an adequate +impression of my appreciation of her sacrifice and undertaking for +my sake, but when I saw her every doubting fled. +</p> + +<p> +I do not know how she was dressed, beyond that it served but to +heighten her queenly beauty; which, rare as I remembered it, had +now grown and developed beyond all my faint conceptions. Her amber +hair had deepened into the richest auburn, its colour was undisguised +by powder, and its abundance undistorted by the art of the +hair-dresser. Her eyes were steady, and clear, and truthful; every +line of her face had rounded out the promise of her youth, and her +shape and carriage were divine. She moved like a goddess. +</p> + +<p> +“Margaret,” I said, as I advanced towards her, forgetting all the +openings I had so carefully rehearsed, “I can scarce believe I am +awake. It seems incredible I should speak face to face with you +here.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is indeed a strange meeting,” she returned. The words were +nothing, but they were spoken in a tone of perfect quiet and control, +without any trace of the emotion that broke my voice and dissipated +my self-possession. +</p> + +<p> +“It is a meeting for which I have dreamed, but tried not to hope,” +I said, with much feeling. +</p> + +<p> +“And I had lived for nothing else,” she returned, with unfaltering +voice and the same absence of emotion. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Margaret, it has come at last!” I cried, joyously, the +temporary cloud passing as she spake. +</p> + +<p> +“No, it has not!” she said, with the coldest decision, and, with +that incongruity of thought which springs upon us at the most +inopportune moments, I wondered if every woman for whom I cared +was to change her whole nature, the moment I left her side. I +remembered Lucy, and now here was Margaret, whom I had known as +the embodiment of impulsive affection, fencing with a coolness that +enforced my admiration. I saw she had fully prepared herself, and +instantly I resolved to change my ground. +</p> + +<p> +“Margaret,” I said, falling back on the most unstudied tones at my +command, “it was only yesterday I learned from Gaston the true +reason of your presence here. We have both suffered too cruelly +from the accidents of the past to risk any misunderstanding now +for the want of perfect openness between us.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is what I desire above all things in the world,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“Then let us begin at the beginning. Why was it you never let me +know of your plan?” +</p> + +<p> +“I do not hold that any explanation is due on my part,” she replied, +still in the same tone of self-possession. “Remember I did not +seek this interview, and I do not see that you have any right to +question me on matters which concern only myself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Great heavens; Margaret! Can anything concern you and not touch +me?” +</p> + +<p> +“Once I believed it could not. I am older now.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you speak thus coldly?” I cried, shocked at her incredible +calm. “If there is anything I can do or say, for Heaven's sake, +demand it. You cannot know what torture it is for me to see you +like this. I have dreamed of you, longed for you, despaired of you +through all these years, and I have a right to a different treatment. +Is it on account of Lucy?” +</p> + +<p> +“Partly,” she answered, somewhat moved. “Why did you never tell me +of her?” +</p> + +<p> +“How could I?” +</p> + +<p> +“There was nothing dishonourable about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“A thing does not need to be dishonourable to be ruinous. The +dishonour would have been in my speaking when I was pledged to +silence.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was it more honourable, think you, to allow a young girl to live +in a world of mock affection, and to expose her to what I have gone +through?” +</p> + +<p> +“But did I ever by word or sign make the slightest move to engage +your affections, after I discovered the truth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pardon me, if I say that question could only serve to embarrass +a child. I will answer it by another. Does a man need to speak to +declare his love?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, by heavens, he does not, Margaret!” I cried, throwing all +defence to the winds. “It speaks in every tone of his voice, in +every glance of his eye, and I would be a hypocrite beneath contempt +were I to pretend I did not always love you. I loved you from the +moment I first saw you, a girl, before Temple Bar, and I will love +you, God help me, till I die!” +</p> + +<p> +“If this be the case, then, had I not a higher claim on you than +any woman living? Were you not bound to protect me against my +ignorance of such a barrier?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absence, and I had hoped forgetfulness, would prove your best +protection,” I replied, with happy inspiration. +</p> + +<p> +“The implication is skilful,” she said, quietly, without a trace +of the emotion I expected from my allusion, “but no mistake on my +part can serve to lessen your want of good faith towards me. Do +you think a woman would have considered any point of personal honour +where the life of one dearest to her hung on her sacrifice?” +</p> + +<p> +“It is quite beyond my poor powers to judge of what a woman might +do.” I replied, with a sudden rash indiscretion. “I find I have +but little knowledge of women or the motives which sway them.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there is but little to be gained by continuing this +conversation,” she returned, with a stately bow, and swept out of +the room, leaving me to curse the folly that had betrayed me into +so false a move. And with this bitter morsel for reflection I sought +my solitary room. +</p> + +<p> +Nothing in the world, short of actual dishonour, can cause a man +of sensibility keener suffering than the knowledge that he has made +a fool of himself. This I had done to the top of my bent. Why had +I not apprehended the effective point of attack from the outset, +and, instead of attempting any defence, thrown myself on her +compassion and generosity? Why had I not...? But it were futile to +reiterate the charges I brought against my own folly. +</p> + +<p> +What was the support on which she relied? If her brother—then I +regretted from the bottom of my heart I had missed the occasion of +squaring that account of which he had spoken. If a man at all, it +was he; for the woman who had so discomfited me was heart-whole I +could swear; a defiant modesty rang in every note of her voice. +Possibly the convent, that fallacious sanctuary for disappointment. +But if I knew anything of her sex, she was the last to whom such +a retreat could bring satisfaction. Heavens! It was a coil involved +enough to drive a man wellnigh distracted. +</p> + +<p> +Dinner, and the intercourse it entailed, did much to restore me to +my ordinary bearing, and when Kit sought me in the afternoon, with +a polite request from his Captain that I would wait upon him when +at leisure, I had quite recovered. Nothing could have fallen out +more to my liking; I was anxious to discover his cause of quarrel +with me, and, if possible, to arrive at some solution of Margaret's +attitude. So I followed Kit to his room at once. +</p> + +<p> +Nairn I found a trifle pale, with a well-bandaged head, but his +welcome was open and unconstrained, and his greeting met me at the +threshold. As I advanced to return it, I caught the flutter of a +dress out of the opposite door, which informed me that his sufferings +were not without certain consolations. +</p> + +<p> +I took the hand extended to me with the same heartiness as it was +offered. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you accept a broken man's apology for a whole man's insult, +Chevalier? I have promised my sister that I would make you this +reparation, and I am heartily glad we can return to our old footing +of Louisbourg.” +</p> + +<p> +“Readily, Nairn. I have seen your sister this morning, and I cannot +blame your action. I might have done the same myself. Let us say +no more about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“With all my heart! Well, Chevalier, the fortune of war has reversed +our personal positions from Louisbourg, but I do not see that the +end is much more certain now than then.” +</p> + +<p> +“Much the same,” I answered; “the result altogether depends on the +first ships.” +</p> + +<p> +“And I suppose you abide by it as before?” +</p> + +<p> +“I must, Nairn. We need not reopen that subject.” +</p> + +<p> +“I only mention it, because I am anxious about the future of your +boy, Christopher. I congratulate you on finding such a son. Will +you understand me, if I say I trust you have not thought of +influencing him to leave our service, though I could not blame you +wishing him beside you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Nairn, I owe you my thanks for having broached the subject. I have +been too dependent on my own exertions all my life to make me a +good beggar, even for my son. When in Louisbourg you expressed +yourself as under some obligation towards me. Will you discharge +it by using your best endeavours for his advancement? He is too +good metal to waste as a common soldier.” +</p> + +<p> +“He is that! And if you allow him to remain, I pledge my word he +shall not continue as such. It may sound presumptions in a mere +captain to promise so confidently, but if we come out of this +successfully, promotions will follow. He has been most favourably +marked by the General, and also by our Colonel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see; he is a son of old Lovat, is he not?” +</p> + +<p> +“That he is, and in more ways than one.” +</p> + +<p> +“If he be like his sainted father, he will have a longer memory +for his own interests than those of his friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“This is rank treason, Chevalier. I won't listen to another word +of it,” said Nairn, laughing. “But I am depending on the General, +he never forgets any one, I can tell you, too,” he added, eagerly, +“he is a stickler for birth, and he will appreciate the fact of +Christopher being your son.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a rare advantage!” I said, banteringly. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it is! Would you not value a good horse the more if you +knew his pedigree?” he answered, without the ghost of a smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, come, come, Nairn! You must not attempt flattery, it has too +overwhelming an effect. But, tell me—in what manner did you meet +with your sister again?” I ventured boldly, knowing there was +nothing to be gained by a subtler policy with him. +</p> + +<p> +“Simple enough. She was in the General Hospital when I was placed +in command there, and very pleased I was to find her,” he answered, +as though the meeting were the most ordinary affair in the world, +his tone clearly indicating that he had concluded the matter, and +did not intend to reopen it. +</p> + +<p> +“I should apologise for having frightened her away as I came in,” +I continued, feeling for another opening; but he feigned ignorance +of my move, and explained in the most natural manner—“Oh, that +was not my sister, but a very good friend of hers, to whom we are +both indebted for many kindnesses.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, that is much. I trust she appreciates your gratitude in your +allowing her to nurse you?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not at all; I do not think she looks upon it in that way. I believe +there are some women who love the bother of looking after you. I +try to give her as little trouble as I can,” he ended, with a catch +in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Nairn, you are a gentleman! Forgive my humbugging.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn't know you were, or I shouldn't have been so simple as to +answer you. Do you know, I've often wished I could tell when a man +is in earnest. I'm no good at guessing what his intent may be unless +he has a sword in his hand; and as for a woman, I can never tell +at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“You're no worse off than the best of us, in that respect, Nairn. +Some day I trust some good woman will engage you in dead earnest, +and then the quicker you surrender at discretion the better. And +for your sake, I hope the day will come soon.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don't know, I'm sure,” he answered, in so woe-begone a tone that +I left him, convinced his enemy had already been making serious +advances, and that his defence was likely to be as feeble as his +most ardent well-wisher could desire. +</p> + +<p> +I discovered my ex-Jacobite sergeant to be as matter-of-fact as +his captain. He would discuss military matters freely enough, but +on the subject of our night's adventure I could not get him to +advance a word. <i>Exempli gratia</i> “Neil, how is the officer you +assisted on the field the other night?” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, Captain, you must go away in and ask for yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +“You are not uneasy as to his hurt proving dangerous?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not half as dangerous as undigested catechising, sir, saving your +presence, and meaning no offence.” +</p> + +<p> +And in the face of so diplomatic a rebuke I would abandon the +subject and fall back on the safer ground of mines and countermines, +carcasses and grenadoes. +</p> + +<p> +I made no attempt to see Margaret, for I felt I would be foolish +to risk another rebuff, which might be final, and that my best play +was a waiting game. My reflections had been bitter; possibly hers +would be generous. +</p> + +<p> +The garrison was fully occupied, for M. de Lévis had made such +advances to invest the town as to call for constant watchfulness. +His fire throughout had necessarily been light, as he was wretchedly +supplied with artillery, but he succeeded in blowing up one of the +magazines the very first night, and there were the usual number of +casualties. General Murray, on his part, attempted one sortie, but +as it was unsuccessful, and the officer in command captured, he +thereafter held himself strictly on the defensive. No general attack +was attempted on our side, and wisely too; for even the capture of +the town would avail nothing, if the first reinforcements by sea +were not ours. +</p> + +<p> +I passed my time making further acquaintance with Kit, whose eager +affection went far to relieve my melancholy, in a few visits of +courtesy to various officers, and in renewing my friendship with +Gaston and with Nairn. +</p> + +<p> +Each day, as I visited the latter towards eleven o'clock, I was +treated to the same disappearing flutter of what I did not doubt +was the same petticoat, until at length I became piqued. +</p> + +<p> +“Nairn,” I declared, “I must either give up visiting you, or you +must persuade that timid lady-in-waiting that I am not to be run +away from with impunity. Either she must remain in her place +to-morrow, or I cease disturbing her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed, that is what I have been doing my best to persuade her, +but she is somewhat shy until a little matter of difference between +us is settled.” +</p> + +<p> +“What, Nairn! Is it possible you have already met the fair one +strong in fight, of whom I prophesied?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I suppose so,” he said, with a happy laugh. “I may as well +tell you. She is Mademoiselle de Sarennes. The only thing that +troubles me is, that she wishes to leave the matter to chance.” +</p> + +<p> +“I congratulate you on the lady, first of all, sir. And now, what +are the chances?” +</p> + +<p> +He moved uneasily. “Just a woman's fancy, I suppose; but she wishes +it to depend on the arrival of the ships.” +</p> + +<p> +“What! Are those fateful ships to carry the decisions of Cupid as +well as Mars? What part are they to play in your affairs?” +</p> + +<p> +“Part enough. If a French ship arrives first, she marries me; if +an English, then I marry her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, Nairn! What an anxiety to have hanging over you! +Have you provided against the possible appearance of a Spaniard?” +</p> + +<p> +“None of your nonsense, Chevalier!” he exclaimed, hotly. “This is +no jesting matter for me. Cannot you take anything seriously? I +conceive it to make all the difference in the world, whether the +man take the woman, or the woman the man. I hate turning things +upside-down, and, if I marry at all, I must do so in a decent, +orderly way, like my fathers before me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is all very well, but shouldn't you allow the lady some +choice, especially if you should turn out to be a prisoner, as will +certainly be the case should a French ship appear first?” +</p> + +<p> +“But why not let me exercise the choice? I have my feelings as well +as a woman,” he returned, stubbornly. +</p> + +<p> +“That is conceivable, or you would never have advanced as far as +your present difficulty. But I think this is a matter which can be +arranged with a little diplomacy.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there's little hope for it if the diplomacy rests with me, +for I've no more of it about me than a brass carronade.” +</p> + +<p> +“Never mind. You can safely depend for that upon the lady. In the +mean time, pray present her with my compliments and congratulations +on so ingenious a shifting of responsibility, and remind her that +I expect to pay her my respects on the morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +But on the morrow I did not keep my appointment. About ten o'clock +that morning, as I was with General Murray, chatting over the fire +in his quarters in the rue St. Louis, we were interrupted by an +aide, who entered in great excitement. +</p> + +<p> +“Your Excellency, a ship is in sight from the lookout!” +</p> + +<p> +“Good heavens, Kirkconnel! This decides it!” exclaimed the General, +rising, and generously extending to me his hand. “God bless you, +whichever it be!” he added, heartily, and we parted. +</p> + +<p> +In all haste I made my way to the Chateau and gained such point of +vantage as was possible. I eagerly scanned every foot of the river, +but there was nothing I could make out, though from the excitement +of the little knot at the signalling-point above it was evident +they could sight her. +</p> + +<p> +In an incredibly short time every available foothold was occupied. +Men, women, and children, soldiers and sailors, sick and sound, +flocked to the ramparts to strain their eyes for the reported sail. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly a cheer arose from the crowd, and all hearts leaped in +response. No—it was but a sailor climbing the flag-staff on the +Cape to bend new cordage for the colours, and presently they were +unrolled and spread out on the sharp May wind. With every moment +the crowd increased; the wounded even left their beds at the news, +and painfully crawled to have the sooner tidings. +</p> + +<p> +At length her top-sails shone white over the bare trees of St. +Joseph. Inch by inch they grew, until the vessel swam clear of the +point. A frigate! A man-of-war! And, at the sight, the crowd, +French and English alike, set up a shout, though as yet neither +knew the message she would soon send flying from her halyards. +</p> + +<p> +On she came, and, the first burst of excitement stilled, we hung +on her every movement in a silence that was almost painful. At +length a gasp ran through the crowd. Against her white sails a +black spot could be distinctly seen running swiftly up to the +masthead. No sooner did it touch it than it broke, and the white +field barred by the red cross of St. George streamed forth to our +waiting eyes. +</p> + +<p> +A perfect scream of shouts and cheers answered the declaration. +Men swore and blasphemed in their joy, some shrieked and laughed +in hysterical excitement, while others broke down and wept like +children at the sight of their deliverance. +</p> + +<p> +Before long the frigate's sides were swathed in smoke, and her guns +thundered their proud salute against the swarming cliff, while +frantic groups ran through the town shouting the news, until, from +the line of defences opposite the Heights, the artillery boomed +forth in one long, continuous roar its message of exultation and +defiance to the gallant Lévis and his men, to whom it meant +irretrievable failure and despair. +</p> + +<p> +I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned to meet the pale face of +Gaston. +</p> + +<p> +“This is the end!” he said, with tears in his eyes. +</p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</a></h2> + +<p> +I PUT MY FORTUNE TO THE TOUCH +</p> + +<p> +On that 9th of May which saw the <i>Lowestaffe</i> anchor in Quebec to +practically settle the fortunes of France and England in the New +World, as I walked back along the rue St. Louis arm in arm with +Gaston, neither of us speaking a word, I determined that now the +time had come to put my fortune to the touch; and as soon as possible +I sent word to Margaret, praying I might be granted an interview, +and in a state of anxiety, not far removed from panic, I awaited +her answer. +</p> + +<p> +She would see me at once, and I repaired to the parlour where to +me she entered, pale and dignified, the nobility of her soul shewing +forth in every movement of her body, and its beauty in every line +of her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Margaret,” I cried, “forgive me, if I have forced myself upon you, +but I have no courage to endure longer. You have heard that all +hope for the French arms is now virtually at an end, and I must +know what lies before me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That must rest with you,” she answered, in the same calm tone +which had so upset me in our last meeting. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, Margaret, I am here to plead my own cause,” I answered, +firmly, determined not to be swayed by any passing mood, “and I +plead <i>in formâ pauperis</i>, for I have no one to rely on save myself, +and no hope save in you.” +</p> + +<p> +“You must not count upon me,” she returned, calmly. “I cannot +acknowledge that you have any claim upon me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have the claim which comes from your own affection, Margaret. +You loved me once, and in the strength of that love I stand to-day. +In the name of that love I ask you to hear me.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is a thing of the past. You have no right to presume upon it +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is it presumption for one who has lived in such loneliness as I, +to hold to the one bright day of his life? There is no past for +the heart.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will not argue the point,” she answered, coldly; “but there is +a past I have shut out of mine.” +</p> + +<p> +“You may try to persuade yourself you have, Margaret, but it will +come back when you think it most banished. I know of what I speak, +for when I thought I had buried a past that was torture to me to +recall, it has awakened me to nights of hopeless regrets and empty +longings; it has stood beside me, unsummoned, when most alone, and +has started into life at some chance word or token, when in company. +The more you try to live it down, the more you create a haunting +memory to fill your hours with bitterness.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I will meet it with other strength than my own. I have +resolved to enter the Community.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I feared. What do you hope to gain by so doing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will gain work, and rest—and peace.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Margaret, you will not gain peace. Listen to me. I know you +better than you know yourself! You will find work, you may find +rest, of a kind, but what peace will come to you even though you +are shut in safe from the chance evils of life, when you think of +one who has loved as faithfully, but without the same hope as +yourself, wandering, a broken man, because you refused him admittance +to the happiness you alone could offer.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think it fair to try me by such an appeal? You know I can +never be indifferent to your fate. You know I have thought for you +even above myself,” she said, with a tremor in her voice she could +not entirely suppress. +</p> + +<p> +I saw my advantage, and seized it eagerly. “Then, Margaret, listen! +Listen while I plead for myself. What have I to look forward to, +if I lose you? Behind me are the best years of my life, wasted in +this wilderness because I had hoped to secure your happiness by my +exile. To-day I have seen every hope of my advancement vanish; that +I can take as one of the chances of war—but what have I left if +I lose you now? You are the whole world to me, and all it can offer +is nothing, if it does not include you. Margaret, my love! Call +back the day when, if I could have spoken, love waited in your +heart to answer. Give me a single hour of that past now! a moment +of the old love in which to plead for your life as well as my own.” +</p> + +<p> +Her colour came and went as I spake; she had visibly lost that +control which had so far baffled me, and when she answered, it was +with the familiar name she had not uttered, save when she had been +surprised into it on our first meeting. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Hugh, do not try me. You know not what I have gone through, +and now I am near to God.” +</p> + +<p> +“Margaret, my darling, you will be nearer God when you are beside +the man to whom He would confide you. You know I love you with +all my soul! How can you look for happiness apart from him whom +you have loved so long, and whom you love even now!” I ended, +determined to risk the utmost. “Come to me, Margaret! Come to me! +We will face life together, and together there will be no room for +further doubtings, for further mistakes! I cannot shape my love +into words. It is all my life, all my being, and yet it is a poor +thing to offer you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Hugh, I know not which way to turn.” +</p> + +<p> +“Turn to me, Margaret! Turn to me! If ever a man needed a good +woman's love, I need yours now. Everything is falling about me. I +may have no right to ask, but I cannot help it. My need is greater +than my strength. Am I to go forth into exile again without +you-Margaret?” +</p> + +<p> +“Hugh, my only love!” she cried, in a voice vibrant with tenderness; +and with the words she extended to me her trembling, upturned hands. +In my eyes it seemed as though they held all the priceless treasure +of her enduring love. +</p> + +<p> +For a few days longer the cannon continued to grumble backward and +forward between wall and trench, until the arrival of the <i>Vanguard</i>, +<i>Diana</i>, and <i>Lawrence</i> placed matters beyond a peradventure. +Thereupon M. de Lévis promptly disbanded his Canadians, and during +the night of the 16th, under a searching fire from the ramparts, +he withdrew from his lines, and fell back upon Deschambault. +</p> + +<p> +The siege was at an end. Within the town officers and men rejoiced +in their escape from incessant duty, and welcomed the plenty which +succeeded the semi-starvation of the winter; the towns-people, as +is always the case, were ready to accept any rule which would +guarantee to them security and peace, while the surrounding parishes +were gladdened by the return of their volunteers, seeing therein +a promise of the renewal of the quiet for which they longed. The +gates were thrown open, and once more the country-folk thronged +within the walls to offer their scanty provisions, and to bargain +with the “kilties” and “red-coats” with a confidence that spake +well for the humanising influences of war. General Murray received +M. Malartic, who had been left in charge of the wounded in the +General Hospital, and other of our officers at his table in friendly +hospitality, and ordinary life took up its interrupted course. +</p> + +<p> +But with much rejoicing on the one hand came sadness on the other. +The news of the death of Sarennes was now received in due course +by his mother and sister, but was borne with surprising spirit, +especially by the former, who comforted herself with the thought +that the last of his house had found death in a profession which +his fathers had distinguished by their name, while his sister had +both youth and love to support her. +</p> + +<p> +Kit was jubilant over his promotion as ensign, which had happened +even sooner than his captain had foretold; he was received by his +superiors and equals with flattering congratulations, and the men +looked without jealousy on his advancement. To me it was gratifying +to find he valued it not so much for the position, as for the +recognition of his proper standing as a gentleman's son. +</p> + +<p> +Nairn was happy in his escape from the humiliation of being asked +in marriage, and impatiently counted the days of mourning until he +could make his demand on Mademoiselle de Sarennes “selon tous les +règles de la bienséance.” That he was in love, even to the point +of blindness, was amply proved by his astonishment that there were +others in the like case as himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Captain Nairn,” I said to him, in Margaret's presence, the day +before his departure for Montreal with the troops, “as you are the +head of your family, I have the honour to demand of you the hand +of your sister in marriage.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless my soul, Peggy!” he exclaimed, with the utmost honesty. +“I had never thought of you as marrying. I had planned that you +would always live with me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Suppose, Nairn, that Mme. de Sarennes had said the same of +Angélique?” +</p> + +<p> +“But that is different. You see, Peggy is...” But here he fell into +a sadden confusion, and then, correcting himself, cried, with much +vehemence: “No, she isn't! Peggy, you are the dearest girl in the +whole world! You deserve all the world can give you. You take her, +Chevalier, with the best wishes of a brother, whose greatest +misfortune has been not to have known her better.” +</p> + +<p> +And so matters were settled. Nairn marched with the troops to take +his share in what I have always looked upon as the most admirable +of Murray's achievements, a campaign politic, rather than military; +at once to overawe and reassure the inhabitants, and, this +accomplished, to converge on Montreal with Amherst and Haviland. +</p> + +<p> +The situation in which Lévis found himself was impossible, and it +only remained for Vaudreuil to accept the terms of capitulation +which were offered. From his point of view they were no doubt +honourable, but in his anxiety to save the goods and chattels of +a parcel of shopkeepers, he saw fit to sacrifice the honour of +those troops, who, for six arduous campaigns, had stood between +him and his fate. Thus, on the 8th of September, 1760, Canada passed +forever into the hands of the English; who thus held America from +Florida to Hudson Bay, from the Atlantic to the Mississippi. But +these events will no doubt be more fully related by “the gentleman +at his desk—” and I will return. +</p> + +<p> +Soon after the arrival of the victorious troops with their prisoners +from Montreal, a double marriage was celebrated in the chapel of +the Ursulines, General Murray standing for Margaret, while M. de +Lévis rendered the same courtesy to Angélique, and the officiating +priest was le père Jean. +</p> + +<p> +At two we sat down to dinner in the General's quarters, surrounded +by friends old and new; for those who had withstood each other so +stoutly in the field now vied only in expressions of personal +admiration and esteem. Poulariez, Malartic, and le petit Joannès +sat side by side with Fraser, Burton, and Rollo, while the two +generals shared the honours of the feast with Margaret and Angélique. +</p> + +<p> +M. de Lévis did me the honour to request that I would supplement +his encomium on our hosts by a few words in English, which I did +with poor enough effect; but on being called upon on all sides for +a song, I retrieved my halting prose with the following, which I +had set to the old air of “Dalmeny”: +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“Though unrelenting fate hath cast</span> + <span class="i1">In camps opposed our lot,</span> + <span class="i0">Though we have faced each other oft</span> + <span class="i1">And Scot hath drawn on Scot,</span> + <span class="i0">I cannot hold that Chance, or Time,</span> + <span class="i1">Or waste of sundering sea.</span> + <span class="i0">Can part the banished hearts that meet</span> + <span class="i1">At one in their Ain Countrie.</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“We've sprung from every mile that lies</span> + <span class="i1">'Twixt Tweed-side and Ardshiel,</span> + <span class="i0">To wake the corners of the world</span> + <span class="i1">With clash of Scottish steel.</span> + <span class="i0">We've kept our faith to King and Prince</span> + <span class="i1">And held it ample fee,</span> + <span class="i0">If life or death might keep our name</span> + <span class="i1">Alive in our Ain Countrie.</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> + <span class="i0">“We've ridden far for name and fame.</span> + <span class="i1">We've never stooped for gold.</span> + <span class="i0">We've led the flying columns back</span> + <span class="i1">With victory in our hold.</span> + <span class="i0">We've won undying name and fame!</span> + <span class="i1">Yet all o' it I'd gie</span> + <span class="i0">To see the red sun set at hame,</span> + <span class="i1">At hame, in my Ain Countrie.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<p> +The enthusiasm of our generous hosts over my effort formed a fitting +close to the festivity, and the refrain of “Our Ain Countrie” was +carried forth from the room to pass from lip to lip until the whole +garrison was wild over it, and many a homesick fellow found sad +consolation in my poor effusion of an idle hour. Such a gratification +is the highest which a man of taste can receive, and it is to be +regretted that more men of genius do not direct their efforts to +such pleasing ends. +</p> + +<p> +With our friends Poulariez, Joannès, and others in command of the +Royal Roussillon, we were provided for in the <i>Duke</i>, Captain +Renwick, where Kit, Angélique, with her husband, and a score of +English officers assembled to bid us farewell, so that our leaving +resembled more a party of pleasure than the embarkment of a defeated +army. +</p> + +<p> +But as we dropped down the stream and stood watching the great rock +of Quebec, with its fringe of batteries, and the English flag flying +where ours had so proudly held its place for many a day, a sadness +fell upon us all. +</p> + +<p> +Margaret and I stood somewhat apart from the others. +</p> + +<p> +“Hugh, dear, cannot you find some cause for thankfulness?” she +said, softly. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh yes; like Bougainville, I can at least quote the Psalmist: 'In +exitu Israel de-AEgypto, domus Jacob de populo barbaro.'” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, Hugh, do not say that! It has been a blessed land to us. +Listen, dear, to what has been my comfort all these years,” and +with her beauteous face filled with the exaltation of her love she +repeated: +</p> + +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,</span> +<span class="i1">Nor deep eneugh the sea,</span> +<span class="i0">Nor braid eneugh this weary warld,</span> +<span class="i1">To part my Love frae me.”</span> +</div> +</div> + +<a href="images/picture-0306-large.jpg" name="picture-0306"> + <img src="images/picture-0306-small.jpg" + alt="The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh."/></a> + +<h2><a name="EPILOGUE">Epilogue</a></h2> + +<p> +The desolate point known as Tadoussac, at the mouth of the river +Saguenay, in Canada, is the place of exile of a few officials who +guard the interests of the fur trade. +</p> + +<p> +Their quarters, a few storehouses, and the little church with its +modest presbytère, form an outpost to the civilised world. During +the summer season the wandering Indians flock down in their canoes, +build their temporary huts, and a constant bustle of trade and +barter sets in. Furs are examined, valued, and exchanged for guns, +ammunition, clothing, and other luxuries of savage existence. The +arrival of the few ships necessary to this primitive commerce makes +the only other break in the monotonous existence of the little +colony. At the approach of winter the Indiana scatter, and the +officials and the solitary priest are prisoners until the spring +once more opens for them the doors of the outside world. +</p> + +<p> +Here it was, on the evening of the 11th of April, 1782, that the +priest sate with his companions in the house of the principal +official. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o'clock he rose and said good-night to his hosts in his +usual manner, but suddenly his whole appearance changed. Drawing +back, he raised his hand, and said, in tones of deepest earnestness: +</p> + +<p> +“My friends, it is not only 'good-night,' it is 'good-bye.' Good-bye +for all time, for you will never see me again alive. To-night at +twelve I shall be called hence.” +</p> + +<p> +The little company were shocked beyond expression. The priest +stood before them tall, commanding, his figure full of life and +vigour, his eye bright and unfaltering, but his face lighted with +a mysterious solemnity that forbade questioning. +</p> + +<p> +“At midnight the bell of the chapel will sound. You may come then, +but do not touch my body. To-morrow you will seek M. Compain, the +curé of the Isle aux Coudres, and he will prepare my body for +burial.” +</p> + +<p> +He withdrew, leaving the company in affrighted silence; ten, eleven +struck, and at midnight the bell of the chapel began to toll. They +arose, awe-stricken, and took their way to the little church. +</p> + +<p> +By the dim light before the sanctuary they caught sight of the robe +of the priest. He was lying on the ground motionless, his face +covered by his hands as if in prayer on the first steps of the +altar. +</p> + +<p> +That same night the bells of all the churches along the river, at +la Mal Baie, at Les Eboulements, at the Isle aux Coudres, at la +Baie St. Paul, and up through every parish to Quebec, rang without +the touch of mortal hands, and soon the wondering faithful knew +that the passing soul for which they rang was that of la père Jean, +the missionary to the Indians, once known as Jean Marie Gaston de +Caldeguès, Vicomte de Trincardel. +</p> + +<p> +“Happy the people who still believe these sweet and holy legends.” +</p> + +<p> +THE END +</p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Span o' Life, by +William McLennan and Jean Newton McIlwraith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SPAN O' LIFE *** + +***** This file should be named 33731-h.htm or 33731-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/3/7/3/33731/ + +Produced by Gardner Buchanan + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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