“Grandmother, where is Canada?” and a small dark girl of about sixteen years of age leant, as she asked the question, over the back of a garden chair, in which sat an old lady of nearly seventy years of age.
The scene was the terrace of the Château of Candiac in Languedoc. It was evening, and the crimson light of the setting sun illumined the whole valley, and was reflected in the numerous windows of the Castle, until the ancient fortress seemed almost on fire. It was the setting of a Southern sun, which had poured down the whole livelong day, scorching up the grass and driving men and beasts to seek refuge in sheltered spots; no breath of air stirred the trees, no animal had even yet ventured abroad. A dead silence still reigned over the landscape, as if exhausted nature were waiting patiently for the soft and refreshing night dews to restore her energies.
“Canada, Mercèdes, is at the other end of the world, my child,” answered Madame de St. Verin. “And I greatly fear if your father goes thither he will never return again. It is a land of savages, where they eat one another;” and her eyes filled with tears, and the white bejewelled hands resting on her lap were clasped together with nervous energy.
“Nay, madame,” said a younger lady, turning round, for she had been gazing earnestly along the white road which ran through the valley, “why terrify the children? If their father accepts this post of danger and of honour, surely it is more for their sakes than his own! We are noble, but we are poor, and there are many children to establish in the world—a serious matter as times go.”
“I know, my daughter,” said Madame de St. Verin gently; “but if you have six sons and daughters, I have only one son left to me in my old age.”
“Pardon me, dear madame,” replied Madame de Montcalm. “It is a hard necessity for us all; if it were not a necessity my dear husband would assuredly not separate himself from us, for you know how well he loves his home.”
“Well said, wife!” and an arm was thrown round her and a kiss imprinted on her forehead by a cavalier, dusty and travel-stained.
“Father, dear father!” and Mercèdes clung to him. “How did you come? We have been straining our eyes to catch the first glimpse of you on the high road.”
“Have you forgotten the short cut through the village at the back of the Château, Mercèdes? I left my escort to come on by the high road, and myself came across country, through the pine forest. I did this to gain time. I have not an hour to lose. I must leave you the day after to-morrow; for you may congratulate me, I have received my nomination as General-in-Chief of his Majesty’s army in Canada.”
“Oh, father!” exclaimed Mercèdes.
“My dear husband!” said Madame de Montcalm, holding his hand.
“Mother,” said the General, embracing the old lady, from whose eyes tears fell fast.
“It will be a last farewell between thee and me, my son,” she said.
“Nay; wherefore take this gloomy view of the situation?” he answered. “If I remained here I should be nominated to a regiment, and should, I hope, see some service. It is only a change of country, with the superior advantages of a higher position and better chances for the future. My eldest son is to go back with me to Versailles, to be presented to the King and given a commission. Why, mother, I thought you would rejoice, and hurried on to bring you the good news. I may be absent a year—two perhaps, if the English prove very stubborn. Who knows? I may be Military Governor of Canada when the war is over, and come home and fetch you all out, and you will hold your court like a queen in the Government House at Quebec,” and he laughed so brightly that the clouds seemed to break and the natural fears of those who loved him to dispel in the sunshine of his presence.
“You were always hopeful, Louis,” said his mother.
“Why should I be otherwise?” he answered. “We have desired this appointment; and though at first I hesitated because of the heavy responsibilities it entails, I have come to the conclusion that I am as capable as another, and that Canada is worth fighting for. It is a French colony, inhabited for generations past by our own people. It is ‘New France.’ Surely it were a national disgrace to let it slip through our fingers.”
He spoke enthusiastically: all his patriotism, all his ambition, was aroused; a fresh life was opening out before him, and he rejoiced in the prospect.
Louis, Marquis de Montcalm, the new Commander-in-Chief of Canada, was in stature rather short than tall, but his bearing was dignified and his manners courteous. His eyes were dark and wonderfully brilliant; indeed, the whole expression of his face inspired confidence and affection. He had married in early life Mademoiselle Louise de Roulay, and the marriage had proved a happy one. Ten children had been born to them; but six only were living at the time of our story.
Throughout life, in the midst of the corrupt court of Louis XV., the Marquis de Montcalm had remained a good man and a true Christian, an example in all things to the young officers and soldiers under him. His courage and sympathetic brightness won the hearts of all who came in contact with him, and he was beloved, both in life and after death, as it is given to few men to be.
“Where are all my other children?” he asked, looking around, when by his words and manner he had succeeded in calming his mother’s fears.
“They went to meet you; see, they are coming through the chestnut grove, and here is Toto,” said Madame de Montcalm, lifting up a three-year-old child who came running along the terrace towards them, and placing her in her husband’s arms. He kissed the child tenderly, waited till the others came up—two sons and two daughters—who, as soon as they caught sight of him, ran forward with joyous welcome. When the glad greetings were over, and they had all calmed down, he said,—
“Now I will go to my room and brush off some of the dust of my journey, and then to supper. I must see neither tears nor sad faces, remember; it is a good thing and a great honour which has befallen me. Come, mother,” and with exquisite gallantry he put his mother’s arm within his own, took his wife’s hand, and, followed by his troop of sons and daughters, entered the Castle. In the great hall the servants, many of whom had grown old in the family, stood ranged on either side to welcome him, for the news of his arrival had spread rapidly. He smiled and nodded to them with pleasant familiarity, saying in his cheery voice, “You may congratulate me, my friends. Your lord is indeed nominated to high office as ‘General to his most gracious Majesty’s army in Canada.’ Who will go with me?”
A murmur of congratulation followed these words; and instantly three men, all young, stepped out from amongst the servitors, and, bowing low before the marquis, the foremost one said,—
“We are ready to follow our gracious master to the world’s end.”
“My good Estève,” said the marquis, holding out his hand to his secretary, who carried it to his lips, “thanks a thousand times; I should be lost without you. And you, Joseph and Déjean! you too are willing to brave the dangers of the sea to accompany your master?”
“We are, if our master will graciously accept our services,” said Joseph, his valet.
“I should be indeed churlish if I refused,” said Montcalm. “Thanks, my friends; be ready to start to-morrow. It will be sharp work; the troops are even now at Brest, ready to embark.” And so saying, he passed on till he reached his own apartments and disappeared from view.