“Father, are there no convents in Canada?” asked Mercèdes.
“At Quebec, my daughter, I believe the Ursuline Convent is a very fine establishment,” said the General. “It was founded more than a hundred years ago, in 1640, by a very rich and very beautiful woman, Madame de Peltrie. It is a romantic story. Her home was near Caen, in Normandy, and her husband dying soon after her marriage, she desired to enter a nunnery; but her father, who was old, opposed her wishes, and she remained with him until his death. Then she sold all her possessions, and with another lady like-minded, Marie de l’Incarnation, set sail with a party of Jesuit missionaries for Canada. After untold hardships they arrived at Quebec; and there she built a convent and opened a school for Indian children, which she dedicated to St. Ursula.”
“How do you know all this, father?” asked the young girl, as she walked beside him on the terrace early the following morning.
Mercèdes was the General’s especial favourite, and when he was at home was always with him; nevertheless, being the third daughter, from an early age she had been destined to a convent life. She was perfectly happy, and looked upon her future with complacent satisfaction; it was the fate of many highborn girls in those days. She closely resembled her father, was small, sallow of complexion, with dark, sparkling eyes, full of intelligence and sweetness.
“I learnt the story through a Jesuit whom I met the other day at Court,” answered her father. “He had just returned from Canada, and when he heard who I was, and my position, he gave me much useful information. He is a remarkably intelligent man, and very devoted to the interests of the colony. He has been a missionary amongst the Indian tribe of the Iroquois for over twenty years. He will probably return with me. His name is Father Mathevet.”
“And he said the convent was a good one? Are the nuns French?” asked Mercèdes.
“French Canadians mostly; but I believe he mentioned that two or three ladies from the mother country had joined the community within the last year.”
“Father, let me go.”
“You, Mercèdes? My child, it is impossible!”
“Why impossible?” she said, in a coaxing voice. “It is settled for me to begin my novitiate at the Augustines; why should I not go out to Canada with you and enter the Ursulines? I should like it much better. It would be rather amusing teaching Indian children; and then you would not be alone.”
He looked down at her. The plan seemed to chime in with his dearest wishes. The General was a man devoted to his home and his children, and the thought of being separated from them all, though he accepted it as a necessity, was very painful to him. The sudden idea of having this child, his little Mercèdes, within reach, to whom he might speak of the dear absent ones, who in all things would sympathise with and understand him, was such an unexpected joy.
“Do you really mean it?” he asked.
“If I did not, should I propose it?” she answered. “You know I am of small account in the house, as it has always been settled I should be a nun; whether I am here or in Canada it can make no difference. I do not belong to the world, but to God; you and my mother gave me to Him when I was an infant; and think how happy I shall be if, whilst fulfilling my vocation, I can be a comfort to you, my dearest father,” and she clung to his arm.
“That you would most assuredly be,” he said; “the very fact of having you near me would be a comfort. But shall you not be afraid to go so far—to cross the sea, Mercèdes?”
She laughed such a bright, happy laugh. “Afraid of what?” she said. “Is not God with us always on sea or on land? And your daughter! Shall I dare to be afraid?”
Her father smiled. “Brave heart!” he said; “truly I do not see why you should not have your wish. A convent in France or in Canada, it cannot make much difference—except to me,” he added, and, stooping, he kissed the young, eager face.
“You will speak to mother then?” she said.
“Yes,” he answered thoughtfully. “If only I knew of some woman going out to Canada!”
“I know some one who would gladly go,” said Mercèdes.
“Who?” asked the General.
“My foster-mother, Marthe Dervieu. You know her husband is dead, and all her children; she is quite alone, and loves no one in the world as she loves me. Only last week she told me that when I entered the Augustines, she should go there also as serving sister.”
“That would indeed be just the thing; she is of a good age, neither too young nor too old. Why, Mercèdes, everything seems to combine to carry out your wishes,” said her father.
“Marthe is just thirty-five; she was only nineteen when she nursed me,” answered Mercèdes. “She will be so glad to go away from here, where she has had so much sorrow. Here comes my mother; I will leave you with her, my dear father. I am so happy!” and catching up his hand, she pressed it to her lips, and then ran lightly down the steps leading from the terrace into the Château gardens.
That evening, after supper, it was announced to the assembled family that Mercèdes was going out to Canada to become a novice in the Convent of the Ursulines, and that her nurse Marthe Dervieu had agreed to accompany her. The mother’s eyes were red with weeping, and the old grandmother, Madame de St. Verin, held Mercèdes in her arms murmuring, “My poor lamb!”
“Nay, grandmother,” said the girl, though tears choked her own voice. “You are giving me to God; what matters it whether it be here or there, so that I do Him service? And my dear father needs me; he will feel that I am near him, praying, always praying for him; and when he is weary he will come into the quiet cloister, and we shall speak of home and of you all. Nay, rather rejoice that such high honour is accorded to me. Instead of an easy life of personal devotion, which would be mine if I stayed here, I shall teach little Indian children to worship Christ and show them the way to heaven. Give me your blessing, grandmother;” and she sank on her knees before Madame de St. Verin, who, touched by the girl’s devotion and enthusiasm, laid her thin white hands on the dark hair, saying,—
“May God bless thee, my child, and have you in His holy keeping now and for evermore.”
“Amen,” said all present; and then they gathered round Mercèdes and embraced her, and it was even as she desired, a scene more of joy than of sorrow.
The following day the General left, accompanied only by his son the Chevalier and Estève, his secretary. He decided at the last moment that his two servants should wait to escort Mercèdes and Marthe when the time came for them to join him.
He would not allow the parting to be a sad one, reminding his children that they were descended from heroes, and must demean themselves accordingly.
The Montcalms traced their lineage back to Dieudonné Gozon, Grand-Master of the order of St. John of Jerusalem, who in the sixteenth century delivered the island of Rhodes from a monstrous serpent, which had long been the terror of the inhabitants. For this service he was made Lieutenant-General, and continued to distinguish himself so greatly that, when he died, at a good old age, he was honoured and revered by all men. His race was continued by a long line of knights and noble gentlemen, and so the Montcalms came to be reckoned as a race of heroes, and were proud of their descent.
The present Marquis, Louis de Montcalm, General-in-Chief of his Majesty’s army in Canada, had entered upon his military career at the early age of fourteen, as did also his great opponent General Wolfe. Boys were men in those days by the force of circumstances. At the battle of Plaisance, in 1746, Montcalm was three times wounded, and at the combat before Exiles twice.
When still very young, he had stated in a letter to his father his idea of what his aim and object in life ought to be. It is characteristic and worthy of record.
“First, to be an honourable man, of good morals, and a Christian.
“Secondly, to read in moderation, to know as much Greek and Latin as most men of the world; also to know the four rules of arithmetic, and something of history, geography, and belles lettres, and have a certain knowledge of the arts and sciences.
“Thirdly, and above all things, to be obedient, docile, and very submissive to your orders and those of my dear mother, and also to defer to the advice of Monsieur Dumas.
“Fourthly, to fence and ride as well as my small abilities will allow.”
The above-mentioned Monsieur Dumas was the family preceptor, and he and the young heir were somewhat antagonistic, Louis not responding as readily as Dumas could have desired to the educational pressure to which he would have subjected him. The tutor found a more apt pupil in the younger brother, who is stated to have been an infant prodigy, but died at the early age of seven years of water on the brain, having acquired during his short life, besides a fair knowledge of his own maternal language, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, geography, history sacred and profane, and various other minor studies. Probably his early death by no means incited his brother to follow in his steps.
Throughout life the Marquis de Montcalm maintained his code of honour, and, as his ancestors had done before him, left to his children an untarnished name.