The Span o' Life Part 31

"No. But he has suffered incredible hards.h.i.+ps 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!"

"Impossible, cherie; 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.

"Marguerite, Charles has been asking for you again this afternoon.

Will you see him the first thing in the morning?"

"I do not know, cherie; neither your mother nor the Superior has given her permission as yet," I answered, much troubled at her insistence.

"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."

"Angelique 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 Angelique's satisfaction.

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 pa.s.sing 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.

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.

"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.

"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."

"Answer me but one question. Do you love this Maxwell?"

"M. de Sarennes, I will tell you nothing. You have no right to question me."

"My G.o.d, Marguerite! have I not done everything for you?"

"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."

At my words he stepped close to me, but before either could utter a sound, a shrill cry came from above:

"O mon Dieu! mon Dieu! The English are on the Heights."

Doors were thrown open, and in an instant the corridors were filled with white faces, and hurrying feet were flying towards the stairways.

"Nonsense!" cried a rea.s.suring voice when we gained the upper windows. "Those are our troops! See, they are crossing the bridge!"

"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.

"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!"

"Mes soeurs, we will descend to the chapel," said the calm voice of la mere 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 Angelique and I remained.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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, slas.h.i.+ng at the fugitives with their claymores, while the pipes screamed in maddening encouragement above.

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.

"O ciel! Marguerite! See, there is M. de Maxwell! On the Cote Ste.

Genevieve!" cried Angelique, in a hoa.r.s.e, strained voice, pointing as she spake.

The Cote Ste. Genevieve, 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.

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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "With hat in hand came spurring on."]

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.

"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 pa.s.sage, mixed in hideous confusion, with the exception of the Royal Roussillon, which stood as firm as if on parade.

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.

"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 pa.s.sed rapidly over beyond the shelter of the hornwork.

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.

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.

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 pa.s.sed; 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 mere de Ste. Claude, and with her la mere de Ste. Helene of the Hotel-Dieu, and la mere de la Nativite of the Ursulines.

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 a.s.surance to many a fainting heart.

"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."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He that dwelleth in the secret place of the Most High."]

The common danger, the common wors.h.i.+p, drew us together. Each succeeding verse, with its divine a.s.surance of safety and protection, brought to us a quiet and a confidence which renewed our strength.

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 mere Ste. Claude signed it should be opened.

Angelique 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.

She came forward followed by the princ.i.p.al nuns and ladies.

"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."