The Span o' Life Part 24

AT QUEBEC

When our first greetings were over, I asked eagerly for Lucy.

"She is not with us at the moment, my dear," said Mme. de Sarennes; "but we look for news of her soon now."

"Where is she?" I asked, dreading to discover the hand of M. de Sarennes in the matter.

"When you left with le pere Jean, she was much distressed, for she had not the same reliance on his a.s.surance of your safety as we, and at first insisted that you would never have willingly gone without her, but after a while she seemed to be content. I did not know, until Angelique told me later, that she was possessed with the idea of her son being in Quebec, or I might have persuaded her of its folly. But I knew nothing of it, and thought she was quite content to await your return, when we were astonished by her disappearance. She left a note behind, which, however, did not tell us anything beyond the word Quebec, as it was, of course, in English.

Angelique, fetch the note; it is in my red box. We had search made for her as soon as possible, and heard of her along the road as far as Beaumont, but there all trace was lost. Here is the note, my dear," she said, as Angelique entered.

The poor little letter was not addressed, and was written in a trembling hand.

"I am going to Quebec to find my son" [I read]. "M. de Sarennes tells me he is there, and I need not stay from him now my mistress is gone. I am thankful to every one who was kind to me, and I will pray for each one every night. LUCY."

"It is as I thought," said Mme. de Sarennes. "Poor soul, I am more distressed at the thought of her unrest than for her safety, for our people are very good, particularly to any one they see is not of strong mind. She had some money, Angelique tells me. I have sent her description to the different convents, where they are likely to know of any one in want; and in a small place like this it will not be long before we hear of her."

"But I am greatly distressed, madame, that you should have had this anxiety, in addition to what I have caused."

"If we had not cared for her, we should have had no anxiety; and as for yourself, my dear, you must not think we were troubled when le pere Jean told us you were under his direction; and now that you have come back to us in safety, your long absence is atoned for. I did not know I could have missed any one so much who was outside of my own family."

This unexpected tenderness from one I had respected rather than loved, for I had stood somewhat in awe of the usually unresponsive old lady, touched me more than I can tell, and gave me a sense of home and protection which I had long missed, and it was a pain to think I was forced to hide the true reason of my flight from her loyal heart.

The Sarennes house made one of a tower-like group of dwellings forming a little island, as it were, at the head of the Cote de la Montagne, round which swept the streets to zigzag down the long, steep hill, and join, after many turnings, at its foot. Fronting it stood the bishop's palace, a modest enough edifice, and from my window at the back I could look on the house of Philibert, popularly known as "Le Chien d'Or," from the curious carving over the door, hinting at some tragedy of patient waiting and revenge.

Immediately above was a bright little cul-de-sac, dignified by the name of la rue du Parloir--the theatre of many of the social doings of Quebec; behind this, on the one side, rose the simple apse of the Cathedral, and on the other the white walls and glistening roofs of the Seminary.

It was not long before I learned the gossip of the town from Angelique, who had already made her first triumphs in society, in which she rejoiced so frankly that I felt like a girl again as she chattered of her pleasures.

"It might not seem much to you, Marguerite, after Paris, but to me it is splendid, and we have all sorts of men here."

"No doubt, cherie. And you find them all charming?"

"Well, they all try to please me, even the bad ones."

"You have bad ones too, ma mie?"

"Indeed we have, Marguerite, as bad as you ever saw in Paris. You needn't laugh."

"Heaven forbid! I never found them amusing in Paris, or else where."

"Oh, but I do! There is M. Bigot, the Intendant. He is wicked, if you like! He is ugly too; but his manner!--it is simply enchanting.

He dresses to perfection; and when he plays with a lady, he loses to her like a n.o.bleman. I don't care what they say about him, c'est un galant homme! and the place would be very dull without him."

"But he is not the only man, Angelique?"

"Dear no! And he wouldn't be so bad, I am sure, if it were not for that odious Mme. Pean; I am sure she is dreadful, and so pretty too! But there are other men; there is M. de Bougainville, who is young, and has le bel air, but is too serious. M. Poulariez, tall and gallant-looking--he is colonel of the Royal Rouissillon; there is Major Joannes--he remembers you on the yacht--he is the little officer who provided the wine for the toasts; then there is M. de Roquemaure and M. de la Rochebeaucourt, and, best of all, there is M. de Maxwell--M. le Chevalier de Maxwell de Kirkconnel--he is a countryman of your own, Marguerite;" and she paused and looked at me as if awaiting an answer.

"Yes, and what of him?" I asked, with a good shew of composure.

"Simply that he is the only man I have ever seen that I could fall in love with. That shocks you, I suppose? Well, don't be afraid.

I am not nearly so bold as I pretend, and I don't mean a word of it. I am simply telling you how much I like him; besides, he is old enough to be my grandfather. Do you know why I like him?"

"No, cherie. Why?"

"Because when Mme. de Lanaudiere, Mme. de Beauba.s.sin, and others, were being good to me by patting me on the head and bidding me behave like a nice little girl, as it were, M. de Maxwell treated me as if I were the greatest lady in the room. He would leave the best dressed among them all to cross the floor openly and speak with me, and because he did so others followed, and I am in request.

He is only 'Chevalier,' you know; but he could not have more weight here were he Duke or Prince."

"And he is proud of the distinction, I suppose?"

"Perhaps so, but he does not shew it; but all this is nothing to his singing."

"Tell me of that."

"Only the other night, at Mme. de Lanaudiere's, he sang so that even the players stopped in their game to listen. I know nothing of music, but I could have cried before he ended; and when he had sung again, as every one wished, Mme. de Lanaudiere cried, before us all; 'Chevalier, you must not sing again or we cannot call our hearts our own!' And every one laughed and clapped their hands.

That is what I call a triumph!"

"Yes, Angelique, I know. One of the dearest things I can remember is a loved voice singing."

Only those who have known the hunger of the heart can realise the sweet comfort these innocent words brought to me. They pictured the Hugh I had carried all these years in my heart. How readily I could conceive the gentle consideration and the charm which won the grat.i.tude of this simple girl as they had won my own!

As we settled down to our regular life, Angelique's one distress was that I would not go with her into the society she so dearly loved. She could not understand my refusal, and even her mother thought it would be well that I should shew myself, if merely to establish my position and put an end to the annoying questionings which began to circulate concerning my station and intentions.

But on this point I was firm, and the only concession I would make was to send a note to M. de Montcalm, begging he would pay me the honour of a visit.

He came on the morrow, and his respect and courtesy towards me went far to establish my position in the eyes of Mme. de Sarennes, for he treated me with all the consideration one would shew towards an equal.

He informed me that his aide, M. de Bougainville, would sail for France almost immediately--we were then at the beginning of November--and if I would brave the discomforts of so late a pa.s.sage, he would place me under his care; but Mme. de Sarennes protested so firmly against my undertaking such a voyage that I was spared a decision.

In truth I did not know what to do. My pride urged me to go; but my love, in spite of what had pa.s.sed, drew me closer and closer to Quebec. I could not go without learning the truth, and yet I could not bring myself to meet Hugh at the moment, which I should have to do if I accepted M. de Montcalm's offer; so I allowed matters to shape themselves without my interference.

"Peace may be proclaimed this winter, and if so, Mme. de St. Just can go without danger in the spring. Besides, she cannot go until she knows of the safety of one she is interested in," said Mme. de Sarennes, decidedly; and her reminder of my duty towards Lucy ended the discussion.

"Then, madame," said M. de Montcalm, turning to me, "if you are to stay with us you must renounce your retirement, and give us your support in our little society. We are too few to spare any possible addition to it, the more so that if peace be not proclaimed before spring everything is likely to come to an end, so far as we are concerned."

"Mon Dieu, Marquis! Do not speak so lightly of disaster," interrupted Mme. de Sarennes, severely.

"Ma foi, madame! What is the use of shutting our eyes to the inevitable? We are hemmed in right and left, and the next move will be directed on us here. It needs no prophet to foretell that."

"But is there not Carillon?"

"There is also the river."

"They can never come up the river! See what befell them before! I remember well how their fleet was destroyed under their Admiral Walker."

"Nothing happens but the impossible, madame; and we are no longer in an age that hopes for miracles."

"Monsieur, it pains me to hear you speak thus. G.o.d is not less powerful now than He was fifty years ago."

"I sincerely trust not, madame; but his Majesty will hardly acquit me if I rely on a chance tempest or a difficult channel. It is only the question of a pilot."