The Span o' Life Part 13

"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."

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.

Meantime the besieging line crept closer and closer about us.

Building after building went cras.h.i.+ng 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 sh.e.l.l breaking on them, and the very earth trembled under the incessant thunder of the bombardment.

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!"

"Courage, my children! We only need Sarennes to show himself,"

Drucour repeated, as an incentive when he marked our fire slacken.

"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 pa.s.sed.

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.

One night in the middle of July, Nairn, in discussing the probable length of our resistance, said to me:

"Chevalier, What will you do when this is at an end?"

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."

"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."

"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."

"Chevalier, I am not only under heavy personal obligation towards you, but the memory of your friends.h.i.+p 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.'"

"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."

One personal gratification the siege brought to me was the renewal of my intercourse with the fair Madame Prevost. 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.

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.

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 Prevost came to me in a sad state of distraction.

"Chevalier," she said, "it is hopeless! No matter what the commandant may resolve, we are betrayed. Prevost 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.

When she had recovered somewhat she revealed her design, which was that, should Prevost succeed in forcing the commandant to the disgraceful surrender we all feared, she and I would escape together.

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 Prevost had a second thought beyond escaping from the disgrace of the capitulation, then I know nothing of the s.e.x.

"My dearest madame," I answered, warmly, "'tis quite out of the question."

"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."

"The boat is not the question, my dear madame; it is yourself I am thinking of."

"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 pa.s.s out by the wicket near the Brouillon Bastion, and the Gourdeau will be at their post. I have thought of everything."

"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."

"Oh, mon Dieu, monsieur I this is cruel of you!" she cried, much distressed. "I was thinking as much of you as of myself."

"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!"

Here she began to cry again, somewhat to my relief, for I saw that her resolution was giving way.

"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!"

"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 pa.s.s we would infallibly be captured or starved, for a woman cannot put up with the hards.h.i.+ps of such a venture. I had some months of it in Scotland after the Forty-five, and I know what it means. To lodge a la belle etoile, and to dine with Duke Humphrey, as we English put it, may be the highest romance, but I a.s.sure you the quarters are draughty in the one, and the table bare with the other."

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.

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 Prevost 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 pa.s.s the enemy's batteries and make some unguarded point on the coast beyond their lines before day.

It fell out much as we had antic.i.p.ated. 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 a.s.sault. But Prevost 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.

At midnight, the capitulation being signed, I pa.s.sed out by the Brouillon Bastion, found the men with their shallop in readiness, and, stepping in, said, in answer to their query:

"All the papers are signed; the English enter in the morning."

"'Dieu seul devine les sots,'" quoted old Gourdeau, sadly. "Shove off!"

Part II

MARGARET'S STORY

_"Le coeur mene ou il va."_ -- Old Proverb.

CHAPTER XII

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE BAIE DES CHALEURS

Never, never shall I forget the elation which filled my heart as I stepped ash.o.r.e 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.