The Span o' Life Part 38

"I am never likely to forget it. Were you there?"

"Where else would I be when my grandfather was own cousin to his?"

"Then I suppose there's no treason now in shaking hands over so old a story, Neil?" I said, extending my hand, which he grasped heartily, and relations were established between us.

He then turned to the priest. "Your name, your reverence?"

"Le pere Jean, missionary."

"Well, gentlemen, it cannot be helped. You must both follow us into the town."

He gave his orders briefly, and blowing out the lanthorn, took Margaret by the arm, supporting her as one might a wounded man, and so we set off. It was evident the quick-witted sergeant possessed that invaluable qualification of the successful soldier, the readiness to carry out as well as to devise a plan; for in handling the lanthorn he had never once allowed the light to fall on Margaret, and by his happy pretence of her being wounded, he avoided the awkward necessity of handing over the command to her as his superior.

That he would do his best to shelter her from any scrutiny or questioning was evident, and I was too thankful for the result to puzzle over the probable means by which it was attained. As like as not, by the very simple expedient of telling the truth--a wonderfully efficacious measure at times, when you know your man.

A quick, hard scramble brought us down to the level of the Palais; we pa.s.sed the Intendance, black and deserted, and so on towards the foot of the Cote du Palais. When we reached the gate the sergeant halted us; the sign and countersign were given, whereupon the wicket was opened.

Pa.s.sing his arm about Margaret, who leaned upon him heavily, the sergeant skilfully interposed himself between her and the officer in charge, and gave his report: "Neil Murray, sergeant, 78th, six men, two prisoners, and one of our own, wounded," and on we marched up the slippery hill without a moment's unnecessary delay.

As soon as we were beyond sight of the gate our pace was slackened, and, now that all immediate danger of discovery for Margaret was at an end, I fell to wondering at the extraordinary chance which again brought me face to face with her who had proved the turning-point in my life. Little by little I pieced out the puzzle, and the more I brought it together, the more I wondered, but in a vague, disjointed fas.h.i.+on, that led to no solution. My confused thoughts were interrupted by our party halting in front of the Convent of the Ursulines, where, to my relief, I saw the sergeant lead Margaret round towards the side entrance.

"May I ask where you are taking us?" I said, when we again began our march, putting the question more to set my mind working again than out of curiosity.

"Where else would we be going but to the General?"

"And where has he found quarters in this stone heap? You have made a fine mess of things with your battering," I said, for the evidence of their fire on the town was surprising.

"Have we not!" he exclaimed, with true soldierly pride. "But there will be a corner or two, here and there, that was out of our reach.

It was a G.o.d's mercy for ourselves that we didn't have our will of the whole town, or there's many a poor fellow would have made a bad winter of it."

"I dare say you found it bad enough as it was, eh, Neil?"

"You may say that, sir! There's been a deal to put up with for both high and low. But here we will be at the General's."

As he spake we drew up before a house in the rue St. Louis, and were ushered into an anteroom, where we were left under guard, while our conductor departed to make his report.

I was not permitted to speak with my fellow-prisoner, and so went back to my wonderings. It was Margaret--that is, Mme. de St.

Just--who had befriended Lucy on s.h.i.+pboard, and protected her since.

What a marvellous happening, that these two women, of all others in the world, should have thus been thrown together! That she now knew of my relation towards Lucy I could not doubt; and though I had preferred it might have come about otherwise, I bitterly reflected that an estimate of my character was no longer of supreme importance to her, now she was a married woman. Though I had been doing my utmost all these years of exile to school myself to a frame of mind in which I might look upon her as unapproachable for me, now that I found an insurmountable barrier existed, not of my own raising, with the inconsistence of mankind, I straight rebelled against it. What a climax to every irony of fate! To find myself free, and she, whom I had so hopelessly loved, another's. Yet what did the priest mean when he said he had been trying to keep me from her? I looked across the room at his impa.s.sive face, and felt I would give much for five minutes alone with him. Then an explanation would be forthcoming in some shape.

From this coil I was aroused by the entrance of an officer to summon us into the presence of the General, and for the first time I considered my personal situation. Not that I had anything to fear, for, in those days, war was a profession, and an officer was treated as a gentleman by his opponent once active hostilities ceased, or were even suspended; but the consequence of my capture would certainly mean for me the loss of any advantage I might otherwise have gained from our success. Now my name would figure in no despatches, unless as "missing," a bitter disappointment, when I had so slowly and painfully gained something of a position. But I had no time to reason it out before we had crossed the threshold of the General's room.

He was a clear-featured, bright-eyed man of thirty-five or forty, visibly hara.s.sed with the hard fortune of the day, but he did not allow his preoccupation to affect his bearing towards us.

"Reverend sir," he said, addressing the priest, "I take it for granted you are a non-combatant, but as it has fallen to your lot to be brought within our lines, you must perforce remain a prisoner.

If you will satisfy me as to your name and position, I shall judge if I can grant you the less galling restrictions of parole."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "I take it for granted you are a non-combatant."]

The priest smiled. "I appreciate the reasonableness of the condition, your Excellency. My full name is Jean Marie Gaston de Caldegues, Vicomte de Trincardel, but for years I have borne none other than 'le pere Jean, missionary to the Indians.'"

"That is perfectly satisfactory, sir. I shall be pleased to allow you parole within the walls, only restricting you from approaching those parts of the town where our defences are now placed. I shall give you an order for quarters at the Ursulines, though doubtless the good ladies would readily receive you even without my introduction." As he spake he accompanied the priest to the door, where he gave his instructions to an aide in waiting.

He then turned to me and extended his hand. "Chevalier, we have already had the pleasure of some slight correspondence."

"I have to thank your Excellency for as great a courtesy as one man can shew towards another. When I wrote, I ventured to mention my acquaintance with your Excellency's brother, Lord Elibank, not that I relied on anything else than your Excellency's natural sensibility for the acceptance of my request, but that I might in that manner help to establish my ident.i.ty."

"Believe me, Chevalier," he returned, with emphasis, "that was totally unnecessary. I was quite aware that you were in Canada. A man does not easily slip out of sight so long as he remains among his own cla.s.s."

"Your Excellency overwhelms me; such a recognition goes far to make up for the years of disappointment I have endured."

"Then let us speak plainly, without further compliments on either side," he said, smiling gravely.

"Nothing could please me better, your Excellency."

"It will not even be necessary to keep up the 'Excellency.' I shall call you Kirkconnel, after the good homely Scots' fas.h.i.+on, if you have not forgotten."

"Forgotten! That is one of the curses of my Scotch blood. I cannot forget!"

"Then there is hope for you yet, Kirkconnel! For you have something behind you worth remembering."

"I cannot say it oppresses me with any great sense of obligation, for I would find some difficulty in naming it at the moment."

"Tut, tut, man!" he exclaimed, heartily. "Don't tell me that a man who played his part as well as you in '45 need mourn over it."

"We're getting out towards the thin ice now, are we not, General?"

"Not for me; though I dare say some members of my house might have to guard their steps more carefully. But to go on: you followed what you and your forbears held to be The Cause, and to which you held your honour pledged, and you saw it through to the bitter end.

Then, instead of mixing yourself up in a miserable farrago of pot-house plots and chamber-mysteries which have only served to turn some honest men into rogues, you have acted like a soldier, and done only a soldier's work. And, best of all, you have succeeded.

You have much that is worth remembering, Kirkconnel!"

"Your Excellency is most kind."

"I prefer to be plain. Why not drop this whole business?"

"How can I? You would not urge me to come over because I happen to be a prisoner to-day? I may be exchanged to-morrow."

"That you shall not, I'll answer for it! I have no intention to give M. de Levis the a.s.sistance of even one more artillery officer, if I can help it. No, no! I shall keep you fast while I can, but 'tis only in the event of my holding the winning cards in this affair that I would urge you to send in your submission and take your place beside us, your natural comrades, where you belong.

What chance of promotion, or even of recognition, will you run, if M. de Levis has to leave Canada in our hands?"

"None whatever. I have never deceived myself for a moment on that point."

"Then be sensible, and, like a sensible man, make a sensible move when the time comes!" he exclaimed, with the greatest good feeling.

"I am afraid I am too old a fool to be sensible at any time on such a subject. But I thank your Excellency from the bottom of my heart,"

I returned, as warmly.

"Nonsense, man! I would not have spoken had I not been taken with you. But there! I am not a recruiting officer," he said, with a laugh. "Think well over what I have said; I am not pressing for an answer." Thereupon he turned the subject, and we fell into a conversation over the events of the past summer and winter. I answered such questions as I could in regard to our present position, for there was no advantage to be gained by undue concealment, and his consideration spared me any embarra.s.sment.