"Go back whence you came, sirs, and tell the Governor, if you will, that his cowardice and desertion have done their work. Quebec is lost to France for ever, and Canada will follow. He could have saved it four days ago had he had the heart of a soldier or the head of a statesman; now it is lost irrevocably!"
Chapter 3: Friendly Foes.
Quebec was taken; it had surrendered without a blow when once the battle upon the heights above had ended in the overthrow of the French army.
Julian and Fritz exchanged glances of wonder when it was known beyond all doubt that the capitulation had been signed. It was marvellous to them, who knew the full peril of their own position, that the French should be so blind. A concerted attack from the two armies of the immediate locality could scarcely have failed to drive them from their vantage ground back to their ships; and once there, the Admirals would have had no choice but to put to sea once more; for already the season was closing, and it would then have been madness to think of any further operations for that season.
And yet sadness rather than joy was the main feeling in the hearts of these comrades as they prepared themselves to be of the number to march into the city.
Fritz was still somewhat lame from the effect of his wound; but his splendid physique had made light of the injury, and in other respects he was sound and strong. Humphrey walked beside him, giving him a little assistance over rough ground, and Julian was on his other side. They were full of curiosity to behold the city which it had cost them so much to take, and Fritz was anxious to find again those friends who had shown him kindness in past days. Julian, too, was very desirous to meet Madame Drucour once more, and renew with her those pleasant relations which had commenced within the fortress of Louisbourg.
Townshend, the Brigadier now in command, had granted easy terms to the place. He knew too well the peril of his position not to be thankful for having Quebec almost at any price. The garrison and the sailors, who formed a considerable portion of the force in the city, were to march out with the honours of war, and were to be shipped to France with what speed they might. The promised protection offered by Wolfe to all peaceable inhabitants was to be assured to all, together with the free exercise of their own religion.
To Townshend had been carried upon the very day of the capitulation a letter written by Montcalm only a few hours before his death, the feeble penmanship of which showed well how difficult it had been to him to indite it. In effect it was the last thing he ever wrote, and the signature was nothing but a faint initial, as though the failing fingers refused the task before them.
"Monsieur," ran the missive, "the well-known humanity of the English sets my mind at peace concerning the fate of the French prisoners and the Canadians. Feel towards them as they have caused me to feel. Do not let them perceive that they have changed masters. Be their protector as I have been their father,"
It was probable that Montcalm believed himself addressing Wolfe when he wrote this last charge. It was not known with any certainty in Quebec that the English General had fallen, Some had heard he was wounded, but no certainty prevailed. Indeed it was with no exultation that Quebec heard of the death of the dreaded Wolfe. If he were redoubtable in the field of battle, he was known to be a merciful and generous foe in the hour of victory. Madame Drucour had shed tears when told for certain of the hero's fall; the Abbe had sorrowfully shaken his bead, and had told the citizens that they had nothing to rejoice over in that.
So the garrison marched out with as much bravery and martial show as they could under the circumstances, and the citizens crowded the streets and ramparts to cheer them as they went, and watch with mingled feelings the entrance of the English troops into the town and the hoisting of the English flag. Sobs broke from many, and a deep groan rose shudderingly upon the air; and yet there were very many in the city who cared little for the change of masters, if only they might be rid of the horrors of war.
Life had long been very difficult under the French rule. So much official corruption existed, especially in the matter of supplies of food and other necessaries, that the unhappy people were forced to pay double and treble value for almost everything, and were being slowly bled to death, that a few functionaries like Bigot and Cadet might fatten and grow enormously rich. They had begun to know that the English colonies were very differently governed; that they grew in strength and independence, and were encouraged, and not thwarted and hindered, in their internal development. Although much smaller in extent than Canada, their population was double that of the French colony. It was indeed the growing strength and prosperity of the English provinces which had excited the jealous animosity of the French, and had quickened their resolve to pen them in between mountain and sea, and hinder their development. And this resolve had been followed by the commencement of that border warfare to which this was the sequel.
England knew better than let herself be penned within narrow limits. She had broken through the bonds which held her back. Now she was mistress of the key and capital of Canada. It could only be a matter of time before the whole colony fell to her.
"It may be better for them in the end," said Madame Drucour, heaving a long sigh as she watched the departure of the garrison, and saw the scarlet uniforms of the English flooding the streets of Quebec, "And yet it is hard to see it. I knew it must come, but my heart is heavy within me. If only we had made a more gallant fight, I should have felt it less."
"There he is! there he is!" shouted Colin suddenly; "there is Fritz Neville!"
"Ah," cried Madame Drucour, with a quick look of pleasure, "and there is Monsieur Julian Dautray too! Get speech with them if you can, Colin, and bring them to supper at our house. There is much I should like to ask them; and if some of the officers are to be billeted amongst us townsfolk, I would gladly have those two to care for."
"I'll go and see about it," cried Colin.
"Take us with you," cried the midshipmen, who had viewed the procession with swelling hearts, uttering now and then a British cheer, which mingled oddly with the sighs of the people. However, since they had cheered the retiring troops as lustily as their own countrymen, no one took this amiss. Indeed the young middies had made themselves popular in the town by this time, and had done something to promote a feeling of confidence in the goodwill and clemency of the victors.
Corinne and her aunt returned homeward. The girl was in a state of great excitement, sorrow for the regret of others mingling with her own secret triumph and joy in the victory of the English.
It was no use trying to disguise from herself that she was glad the English had prevailed. She had come to have a contempt and distrust of the French and their ways and their rule. She admired the English, and believed in them. They had shown courage and resolution and heroism--had accomplished a feat which had hitherto been deemed impossible. She was proud of the British blood running in her veins, and was ready to welcome the victors with all her heart.
So she decked the supper table with green leaves and grasses, and a few flowers culled from the convent garden, where it had not been torn to pieces by shot and shell. The viands were not very plentiful, it is true, since scarcity still prevailed in the city; but that would come to an end now, for the English were already making arrangements for throwing in ample supplies.
Then she ran upstairs to don her best holiday gown, feeling a wonderful rebound of spirit after the depression and anxiety and horror of the past days. She sang a little to herself as she flitted about her room, and was only just ready when she heard Colin's voice from below summoning her to come.
She ran down the staircase and glided into the supper room, to find it (as it seemed) quite full of company. It was too dusk to distinguish faces by that time, but Bonnehomme Michel appeared at the moment, bringing in two lamps, and the faces of the guests were instantly revealed to her.
Her face lighted as she met the friendly glance of Fritz Neville, and she extended her hand with a pretty welcoming grace. The next minute she found herself exchanging greetings with an officer in British uniform, a dark-eyed, dark-haired man, with a very clear-cut, handsome face. Nor did it surprise her to hear that this was Captain Dautray, who had played a romantic part in the siege of Louisbourg.
"My aunt, Madame Drucour, has often spoken of you, sir," she said, "and told us how you disguised yourself and adventured yourself into the heart of the enemy's fortress. In sooth, I wonder you could ever dare such a deed. Suppose you had been found out?"
"Then I should have been shot as a spy, I do not doubt," answered Julian, "and should never have known the pleasure of making the acquaintance of the brave Madame Drucour--'Madame le General,' as she was called in Louisbourg--nor of being presented in Quebec to Mademoiselle her niece."
And as he spoke he bowed over Corinne's hand and raised it to his lips.
The girl blushed and smiled. Such a salute was not uncommon in those days, and there was nothing free in Julian's manner; indeed there was a grave dignity about him which distinguished him in whatever company he found himself, and his recent military training had done much to increase the natural advantages which had always been his.
The remaining guest, who was a stranger to her, was presented as Humphrey Angell, and she looked with quick interest at him, recollecting how Fritz had told her the tale of that terrible Indian raid, and how he had found the two brothers, almost distracted by anguish and despair, amid the blackened ruins of their once prosperous settlement. This was the brother of the strange, wild-looking man whom she and Colin had seen in the forest long, long ago, and who had perished in the hour of vengeance. How interesting it was, she thought, to see all these men of whom she had heard and thought so much! She let her glance wander from one face to the other, and she was not ashamed of the feeling of keen admiration which awoke within her.
The three midshipmen were also of the company. Discipline had been somewhat relaxed in the hour of battle and victory, and they had obtained leave of absence from their ship for a while. Colin had brought them back for a farewell repast. They seemed almost like sons of the house by this time; and they had brought with them, from one of the provision transports, a supply of good victuals which had made Bonnehomme Michel's eyes shine and her wrinkled visage beam.
The scent of coffee pervaded the house, and soon a savoury mess such as had not been seen for long upon that table was set down, and the guests, in excellent spirits, took their places. Corinne found herself seated next to Julian, with Arthur on her other side. The Abbe took the foot of the table, and Madame Drucour the head. She looked pale and grave, but showed a gentle dignity and courtesy of bearing which was very impressive; and everyone showed her all possible deference.
Corinne spoke to Julian in a low voice.
"I want to ask of your General, the great Wolfe. Were you with him when he died?"
"Yes, Mademoiselle; he died in my arms. I have had the honour of calling myself his friend for above a year."
At that word Madame Drucour looked up and said:
"Ah, let me hear of Monsieur Wolfe! I had hoped to see him again myself. Such a hero, such a sweet and courteous gentleman! Frenchwoman though I be, I could have welcomed him as the victor of Quebec!"
All listened with deep attention as Julian related in considerable detail the story of the last hours of Wolfe, and Madame Drucour wiped her eyes many times during the recital.
"Ah! if he had but lived to see the city of his hopes, I would myself have been his nurse, and would have brought him back to health and strength.
"You smile, sir; but yet I have seen much of sickness. You will hear that the doctors themselves give me the credit for saving many lives."
"I can believe it, Madame; indeed I have seen something of that skill with mine own eyes. But, alas! I fear that the case of our friend was beyond human skill. I think that, had he had the choice, he would have chosen to die as he did in the hour of victory. To wear out a life of suffering in uncongenial inactivity would have been sorely irksome to his unquenchable spirit; and yet, after the hardships through which he had passed, I misdoubt me if he could ever have taken the field again. He would have endured the peril and pain of another long voyage only to die upon shipboard, or at his home if he lived to reach it. The hand of death was surely upon him."
"And to die in the hour of a glorious victory is surely a fitting close to a hero's life," said Corinne softly to Julian, when the tide of talk had recommenced to flow in other quarters. "But tell me, does he leave behind many to mourn him? Has he parents living, or sisters and brothers, or one nearer and dearer still? Has he a wife in England?"
"Not a wife, Mademoiselle, but one who was to have been his wife had he lived to return, and a mother who loves him as the apple of the eye. I shall have a sad task before me when I return to tell them of him whom they have loved and lost."
"Are you then going back to England?" asked Corinne; "are you not born in these lands of the West?"
"Yes; and I think that my home will be here when my duties to my friend are done. But first I must return to his home and his mother, and give to them there his last loving messages, and those things he wished them to possess of his. Indeed, his body is to be taken back, embalmed; the officers have decided upon that. I must see his mother and Miss Lowther again; then I think I shall return to these Western shores once again, and make my home upon Canadian soil."
"Tell me more about Mrs. Wolfe and Miss Lowther," said Corinne, with keen interest in her eyes and voice.
So Julian told her much of the events of those months which he spent in England by the side of Wolfe, and at last he drew forth the double miniature containing the likeness of the two who loved the hero so well, and gave it to Corinne to look at.
The tears came into her eyes as she gazed at the two faces. He saw the sparkle on her long lashes as she returned him the case, and he loved her for them.
"It is a beautiful face; both are beautiful faces," she said. "How sad for them--how very sad--that he should return to them no more! Do you think Miss Lowther will ever love again? Or will she go mourning all the days of her life for him whom she has lost?"
Julian shook his head doubtfully.
"I cannot tell; yet time is a great healer, and Wolfe himself sent her a message bidding her not mourn too long and deeply for him. She is still young, and the time they spent together was not very long. I trust and hope that comfort will come to her when her grief has abated and the wound has healed. Life would become too sorrowful a thing if death were able to make such lasting havoc of its hopes and happiness."
Corinne drew a long sigh. She had seen much of death and disaster those last months of her young life. It would indeed be too cruel if the hand of time held no healing balm in its clasp.
The next days were full of interest for Corinne. Julian took her and Colin under his special protection and care. Fritz was kept to the house and its vicinity by his lameness, which the march into the city had rather increased; and Humphrey was busy in a thousand ways. But Julian, though he had sundry duties to perform, had plenty of leisure on his hands, too; and he gave up a great portion of this leisure to taking Corinne and her brother a regular tour of the various ships, and of the camps where the English had settled themselves whilst attacking Quebec--showing them exactly how the Heights of Abraham had been scaled, how the plain had been reached and the battle set in array there; and the spot where Wolfe had fallen, and that where he had died.
The bright-faced girl, with her French name and English sympathies, was feted and welcomed everywhere. Brigadier Townshend gave a dinner to some of the residents, and the Abbe and Madame Drucour, with their nephew and niece, were invited. Corinne's health was proposed and drunk amid acclamation, greatly to her own astonishment; and wherever she went she met with nothing but kindness and respect.
She was given a number of trophies of the recent war-- a small dagger that had belonged to Wolfe being the most prized of them all. She daily visited the hospital with her aunt, and cheered by her bright presence both the English and French who lay there.
All was busy in and about the city. The garrison was being shipped off to France, according to the terms of the capitulation; and a number of residents whose homes had been destroyed, and who had no mind to remain in the place now that the English were the masters, were eager likewise to be gone. The French ships in the upper reaches of the river were permitted to come down, take up their crews again, and transport the fugitives to France.
But the Abbe and his sister remained on, uncertain of their future, Madame Drucour waited for news of her husband, and the Abbe lingered to know if he could serve his countrymen any longer. They had friends in France, but were not much disposed to return to that land. Colin and Corinne were burning with desire to see England at least, even if they did not remain there; and Madame Drucour was disposed to wish the same thing for herself.
One day Humphrey brought them news. He had had news of the ex-governor of Louisbourg. He had fallen into the hands of the Indians, but had been rescued by the English, and had been sent, with a number of other prisoners, to England in one of their returning ships. The news had been brought by a sloop from New York.
Vessels were beginning to arrive in the harbour now from the enthusiastic English provinces. Those in Quebec heard how joy bells were ringing and bonfires blazing throughout New England and the provinces. Far-seeing men saw in the fall of Quebec an augury of a new and splendid empire in the west, over which England should rule. So far, at least, there was no thought of anything else, although the spirit of independence had taken deep root which another day would bring forth a different sort of fruit.
"Madame, your husband is safe," said Humphrey when brought to her to tell his tale; "I have heard it from one who saw him. He has not suffered any severe hurt at the hands of the Indians. They were of those who were wavering betwixt loyalty to France and loyalty to England, and who made captives of white men wherever they could, hoping to get a ransom for them. He was rescued by the English and brought to New York, put safely on board a home-sailing vessel, and doubtless he is safe on shore there by this time. He will be well treated; have no fears as to that. The brave Governor of Louisbourg will find many friends in England."
"Where I will join him!" cried Madame Drucour, clasping her hands. "Yes, that settles my hesitation. If my husband is in England, I will go thither and join him; and these children shall go with us, and make acquaintance with their mother's kindred in Scotland.
"Captain Dautray, can you help us in this matter? Can you secure for us a passage in one of your many noble ships so soon to return? You have been so true a friend to us that we appeal to you with confidence and courage."
"It rejoices me that you should do so, Madame. I will see to it at once. If possible, you shall sail in the same ship as I do myself. I think there will be little difficulty. Each vessel will transport a certain number of those who desire to return to France or to be carried to English shores."
Corinne clapped her hands; her whole face lighted up.
"Oh, I shall see England! I shall realize the dream of my life!
"Colin, do you hear--do you understand? We are going to England--and in Captain Dautray's ship!"
"Hurrah!" cried the boy; "hurrah for old England! And if we go in Captain Dautray's ship, we shall have our middies for our companions, for they are to belong to the Royal William, too. Ah, that will be something to live for indeed! When do we sail? and where shall we go when we get there?"
"The Admirals want to leave as soon as possible," answered Julian; "they have already stayed far beyond the time they intended. But there is much to arrange, and they will not go till they have sufficiently victualled the town, and settled the new garrison as comfortably and securely as may be.
"Still it will not be long now, And as for the rest, I can only beg of you to come first, upon landing, to the house of Mrs. Wolfe, where I myself am bound. Madame Drucour's name is known to her.
"Her son spoke much of you, Madame, and of your kindness to him at Louisbourg. And they know too how kindly others were treated--your humble servant being one. Believe me, it will be the greatest pleasure to Mrs. Wolfe to welcome anyone who has known and loved her son, I have to visit her immediately; come at least with me so far. After that we will learn where Monsieur Drucour is to be found, and I will seek him out and bring him to you."
So the matter was settled, and the Abbe gave his approval. He himself would remain in Quebec, the friend and counsellor of the victorious English, whom he could not but regard with affection and respect.
Of the Brigadiers in command, Moncton was too much shattered to do aught but go home to recover of his wounds; Townshend was resolved to sail back, to receive the compliments and honours of the victory (since Wolfe had passed beyond these things); and Murray was left in command of Quebec.
There had been some talk of destroying it rather than facing the perils of keeping it in its shattered condition, and with a French army so near. But English pluck had scorned this policy, and already the men were hard at work repairing its defences, and storing away a sufficient supply of provisions for the long, inclement winter that lay before them.
"We may have to fight for it yet," spoke some as they cheerfully worked at their fascines; "but we have got Quebec, and we mean to keep it, let the French storm and rage as they will. If we could take it from them almost without a blow, surely we can keep it now we have it!"
Chapter 4: The Last.
"Fritz, Fritz! what do you think? Who do you think has come to Quebec? Why, my brother-in-law, good Benjamin Ashley, together with his wife and daughter. They have come in charge of a trim little vessel, laden with provisions, sent as a gift from the citizens of Philadelphia to the victors of Quebec. He has charge of the cargo, I mean, not of the sloop; and he says he has come to stop, but I had no time to hear all his story. Others were flocking about him, and he had letters for the commanding officer. I hastened away to find you and tell the news. Let us go back together and learn more of this thing."
Into Fritz's face there had leaped a look of quick and keen interest.
"Benjamin Ashley," he repeated, "with his wife and daughter! Is little Susanna actually here in Quebec?"
"Yes, and my sister," cried Humphrey eagerly, "looking but little changed from the day I left her in Philadelphia months ago. And their first inquiry after kissing me was for you, Fritz. Had you escaped the perils of the war? how were you? and were you here in the town also?"
"Let us go and see them," cried Fritz, seizing his stick; "I would be one of the first to welcome them. It is true that you said Benjamin Ashley spoke of coming to Quebec if it should fall to us, but I never thought to see him here so soon. He must have a stout heart, for the perils of the place are not ended yet, I fear."
"He has a stout heart, in truth," answered Humphrey; "and right glad am I to see him. Quebec will be more of a home to us if Benjamin Ashley and his wife and daughter are dwelling within its walls."
"Indeed it will," answered Fritz eagerly; and forthwith the pair started off together in search of their kinsfolk and friends.
On the way they encountered John Stark, who was the head of the band of Rangers to be quartered in Quebec during the winter as part of the garrison, and he was greatly excited by the news.
"Hurrah for brave Benjamin Ashley! It is like the stout-hearted fellow he always was to join his countrymen in times of peril rather than wait till all was smooth sailing. We shall want stout-hearted citizens of English blood within the city walls, to people the empty houses, and save us from being too much surrounded with half-hearted Canadian residents. If we are beleaguered by a French army, as is likely enough, we shall want citizens as well as soldiers if we are to hold our prize against them."
This was, indeed, very true, and therefore it was that any settlers from New England were warmly welcomed by the officers in charge of the fortress and city. They could depend upon their soldiers in the garrison well enough; but every commander knows how much harm can be done to a cause by discontent and half-heartedness in the city.
At Louisbourg it was the voice of the citizens that had turned the scale and forced the capitulation, and the same thing had, to a great extent, happened at Quebec, The citizens had been discouraged and rendered desperate by the way in which the town had suffered, and this feeling had reacted upon the garrison, and had rendered them far less willing to try to hold out than they might otherwise have been.
It was some little time before Humphrey and his comrades could find Ashley. He had been taken to the commander of the fortress to deliver up his papers and have a personal interview with him; and it was said that he was being entertained by him at table, and his wife and daughter also.
Presently the news came that Mr. Ashley from Philadelphia was inspecting the premises of the Fleur de Lye, which was the most commodious and important inn in the lower town. It had been a good deal shattered by the bombardment, and the proprietor had been killed by a bursting shell. His family had been amongst the first of the inhabitants to take ship for France and now the place stood empty, its sign swinging mournfully from the door, waiting for some enterprising citizen to come and open business there again.
"Doubtless the Commander has given him the offer of the house and business," said Fritz when he heard. "Ashley is just the man to restore prosperity to the old inn. Let us go and seek him there, Humphrey. A stout-hearted English-speaking host will be right welcome at the inn, and our fellows will bring him plenty of custom."
The comrades hurried along the now familiar streets, and reached their destination in due course. The inn stood at no great distance from the harbour, and was in its palmy days a great resort both for the soldiers of the fortress and the sailors who navigated the great river. It was a solid building, and though its roof had been much damaged, and there was an ugly crack all down the front, its foundations were solid, and a little care and skill would soon repair the damage.
Fritz followed Humphrey into the big public room close to the entrance, and there he came face to face with Benjamin Ashley, who was just saying farewell to Brigadier Murray, and whose honest face lighted with pleasure at the sight of the stalwart soldier.
"It shall be seen to at once, Mr. Ashley," the Commander was saying. "I will set the men to work tomorrow, and in a few days the place will be habitable. You shall have immediate possession, and the sooner you can start business the better for all. We want Quebec to be a town again, and not a ruin. We want to make friends of the inhabitants, and show them that the conditions of life are not altogether altered. We want them to trust us and to think of us as friends. I am sure you will help us in this. Nothing like good wine and a jovial host to set men's tongues wagging in a friendly fashion, and lighten their hearts of any load of fear and despondency."
Murray strode out, returning the salutes of his subordinates, and the next minute Fritz and Ashley were exchanging a warm greeting.
"Welcome to Quebec, my friend; it does the heart good to see you here. Humphrey declared you had promised to come soon; but I had not dared to think it would be this side of the winter season."
"Why, yes; I have been ready and waiting this long while. To tell the truth, I have had enough of Philadelphia and its Quaker-ridden Assembly. Why, when once the war had broken out and was raging in good earnest, I longed for nothing so much as my own youth back again, that I might fight with the best of them. And the peace palaver of the Quakers sickened me. I came near to quarrelling with some of my old friends, and I grew eager to see fresh places, fresh faces. I turned it over in my mind, and I thought that if Quebec fell into our hands, English-speaking citizens would surely be wanted to leaven the French and Canadians who would remain. And if so, why should not I be one to take up my abode?"
"Why not, indeed?" cried Fritz, whose eyes were eagerly straying round the room in search of somebody he had not seen as yet. "It was a happy thought, as our Commander has just told you, I doubt not."
"He has been a capital friend--he has put me in possession of this place; and I can see that there will be the making of a fine business here. And I have not come empty-handed. I sold the old tavern over yonder, and I have a fine store of wine and ale and salted provisions stored away on board, enough to set me up for the winter.
"I must have that old sign down," added Ashley, stepping into the street and looking up at the battered board crazily hanging from the beam above; "we must have another one up instead. I'll set up a wolf's head in its place, in memory of the gallant soldier who fell on the Plains of Abraham. And I will call my inn the Wolfe of Quebec."
Fritz laughed, still looking round him with quick glances.
"And what said your wife and daughter to such a move?"
"Oh, the wife is a good wife, and follows her husband; though I won't say she did not feel the wrench of parting a good bit. As for the maid, she was wild to come! She has done nothing but think of the war ever since it began. She is half a soldier already, I tell her, and is making herself only fit to be a soldier's wife. She might have had the pick of all the young Quakers in Philadelphia; but you should have seen her turn up her pretty nose at them. "'A Quaker indeed!' quoth the little puss; 'I'd as lief marry a broomstick with a turnip for a head! Give me a man who is a man, not a puling woman in breeches!'
"The sauciness of the little puss!"
But Ashley's jolly laugh showed that he encouraged the maid in her "sauciness," and Fritz and Humphrey laughed in sympathy.
"Where are Mrs. Ashley and Susanna to be found?" asked Fritz when the laugh had subsided.
K "Oh, somewhere in the house, poking and prying, and settling the things in woman's fashion. Anything in the house is to be ours, and we may buy cheap a quantity of the furniture which is being taken out of the houses which are too much shattered to be rebuilt. We have brought things of our own, too. Oh, we shall do well, we shall do well. It was a capital thought to come here. Canada in English hands will have a great future before it."
But Fritz was off already, leaving Humphrey to discuss the situation with his brother-in-law. He was off in search of Susanna, and presently came upon her sitting upon a wide window ledge which commanded a view of the quay and harbour, and of the heights of Point Levi opposite. Hannah was taking housewifely notes on the upper floor; but the view from this window had fascinated the girl, and she sat gazing out, lost in thought, a thousand pictures flitting through her imaginative brain.
"Susanna!" spoke a voice behind her.
She started to her feet, quivering in every limb; and facing round, found herself confronted by him whose face and form had been the centre of each of her mental pictures, whose name had been on her lips and in her heart each time she had bent her knees in prayer for two long years, and who she knew had come at last to ask the fulfilment of that promise she had given him when last they had parted.
Her hands were in his; his face was bent over hers. He disengaged one hand, and put it round her shoulders, drawing her towards him gently.
She did not resist; she gave a happy little sigh, and stood with her fair head close to his shoulder.
"Susanna, I have done what I hoped. I am a captain in the English King's army. I have won some small reputation as a soldier. I have a position sufficiently assured. You have come to live at Quebec. I am quartered there for the winter. Many of our officers and soldiers have wives who follow them wherever they go. I would not ask you to come to me to share hardship and privation; but I ask you to be my wife, here in this city, where your father's house will give you shelter if I should be forced by the chances of war to leave you for a while.
"Susanna, will you be brave enough for this? Can you make up your mind to be a soldier's wife, even before the war has closed? I had not thought to ask you so soon; but year after year passes by, and though nearer and ever nearer to the goal of peace, the clouds still hang in the sky, and there is still stern work for the soldier to do. But we seem now to see the end of the long, long war, and that a happy end; and so I ask if you can marry me, even with the chances of one of those separations which wring the heart and entail so much anxiety and sorrow upon the wife left at home."
She was clinging to him even before he had done, shedding tears, and yet half laughing as she looked with dewy eyes into his face.
"O Fritz, Fritz, don't you understand yet what a woman's love is like? As though I would not rather a hundred thousand times be your wife, come what may in the future, than live the safest and most sheltered life without you! As though I should not glory and delight to share the perils and hardships you are called upon to endure! As though being together would not make up a hundredfold for everything else!"
When Benjamin Ashley, together with Humphrey and John Stark, came in search of the others, they all saw at a glance what had taken place. Susanna's blushing face and Fritz's expression of proud, glad happiness told the tale all too plainly. But all had been prepared for it; and Ashley laughed as he took his daughter's face between his hands and kissed it, though he heaved a quick sigh, too.
"Ah me! so all the birds leave the nest at last. And nothing but a red-coat would serve your turn, my maid! That I have known for long enough. Well, well, I cannot blame you. We owe a debt of gratitude to our brave soldiers which we must all be willing to pay.
"Take her, Fritz my boy; take her, and her father's blessing with her. She will not come to you empty handed; she has a snug little fortune from her mother ready for her dowry. But you have wooed her and won her like a man; and her love will be, if I mistake not, the crown of your manhood and of your life."
"Indeed it will, sir," answered Fritz fervently, and possessed himself of Susanna's hand once more.
Barely a week later, and the party stood upon the quay to say farewell to their friends and comrades who were sailing away for England. October was waning. The departure of the ships could no longer be delayed. Many had already gone; but today the mortal remains of the gallant Wolfe had been conveyed on board the Royal William, and all the town had come forth to pay its last tribute of respect to one who was mourned by friends and foes alike. Flags hung half-mast high, the guns had boomed a salute, and the bells of the city had tolled in solemn cadence as the coffin was borne to the quay and reverently carried to the place prepared for it upon the ship.
Now all was bustle and animated farewell as the sailors began to make preparations for unfurling the sails and hoisting up the anchor. Julian and Fritz stood together a little apart from the crowd; their hands were locked in a close clasp. The tie which bound them together was a very strong and tender one.
"You will come back, Julian? you will not forsake these Western lands, which must always seem to me more like home than any country beyond the seas--even England, which we call our home. You will come back?"
"Yes, I shall come back; the lands of the great West ever seem to be calling me. I do but go to make good my promise to him that is gone; then I shall return, and cast in my lot with the English subjects of Canada."
"They say you are to receive promotion, Julian. You will rise to be a man of place in this colony. I am certain of it. You have talents, address, courage; and you are always beloved of French and English alike. I have heard men talk of you, and point you out as a rising man. They will want such over here when Canada has passed into English keeping."
"They will find me ready to do my best if ever they should desire to use me. I want nothing better than to serve my country, and to heal the wound between the two nations who have struggled so long for supremacy in the West."
"You will come back--I am sure of it--a man of place and importance. But you will be the same Julian still, my brother and friend. And, Julian (am I wrong in thinking it?), you will not come back alone?"
A slight flush rose in Julian's face; but he answered quietly:
"I hope not; I believe not."
"Mademoiselle Corinne--" began Fritz, but paused there; for the girl was close beside them, having come up with her aunt, Madame Drucour, to say goodbye to the group of friends gathered to see them off.
Fritz saw the quick glance which flashed between her and Julian as their eyes met, and he felt that he had got his answer. When Julian came back to Canada, he would not come alone.
The last farewells were said; the deck was crowded by those who were to sail away; the musical call of the seamen rose and fell as the sails unfurled to the breeze, and the gallant vessel began to slip through the water.
"A safe voyage and a joyous return. God be with you all!" cried those upon the quay.
The Abbe lifted his hands, and seemed to pronounce a benediction upon the departing ship, and those who saw the action bared their heads and bent the knee.
Then the sails swelled out, the pace increased; a salute boomed forth from the fortress behind, and was answered from the vessel now gliding so fast away; and the Royal William moved with stately grace through the wide waters of the St. Lawrence, and slowly disappeared in the hazy distance.
THE END.