The Span o' Life Part 33

"By-the-way, Peggy," he said, suddenly, "it was you, no doubt, who spake to one of my men in Gaelic this morning. That was Neil, son of Angus Dubh, the tacksman on the old place, one of my best sergeants. You did as much for him as the surgeon, and when I tell him who you are he will think you an angel from heaven. Come when you can and say a word to our poor fellows; they are wearying for home like children, now they are past fighting for a bit."

Days of unceasing work now followed for all who would a.s.sist in nursing and the innumerable little duties necessitated by the presence of so large a body of invalids, and, to their honour, even the most frivolous of the women took their share uncomplainingly, making no distinction between friend and foe. The most conflicting rumours reached us as to the movements of our army, and of the intentions of M. de Ramesay, governor of the city, but we fortunately had little leisure for speculation, and our doubts were ended by the formal capitulation, on the eighteenth of the month.

After the troops had taken possession and quiet was restored, permission was given to us to enter the town, should we so desire.

It must have been a welcome relief to la mere de Ste. Claude when her numerous guests took their departure. The nuns of the Hotel-Dieu and the Ursulines returned to their respective convents, and in that of the latter Mme. de Sarennes secured rooms for the winter.

It was pitiful to see the condition of the town, for the destruction by the bombardment had been almost complete. The Lower Town no longer existed, and scarce a building remained along the front of the Upper. Angelique and I wandered towards the familiar rue du Parloir, to find but a line of crumbling walls, blackened and roofless; before it our little isle of houses, as well as the Bishop's Palace, lay a ma.s.s of ruin, and behind it stood the wrecked Cathedral. Every building that could serve as a mark had suffered in some measure, and the chapel of our convent was the only sacred place left in this city of churches where worship could be celebrated.

Here ma.s.s and vespers alternated with the services of the Episcopalian and Presbyterian divines, and I am certain none suffered from the near fellowship of the other.

A detachment of Archie's regiment, the Fraser Highlanders, was quartered on us for the winter, and with them the community shared their diminished hospitality; they, in turn, lent us their services in collecting firewood and in drawing water, and it was surprising to mark the good-will that was shown on both sides. Not only were they granted full permission to smoke in the quarters a.s.signed to them, but the nuns, taking compa.s.sion on their unsuitable, and, in their eyes, almost indecent, dress, fell to work at knitting for them long stockings of the heaviest wool, which occasioned loud laughter and much sly jesting among the men, and on our side Angelique provoked some of the younger nuns to such merriment by her sallies on the subject that they thereby incurred the disapprobation of their more serious-minded elders.

For this attention General Murray sent to the Superior a most gracious acknowledgment of his grat.i.tude towards the community, but it remained for the men themselves to cap the climax.

Every morning it was the practice of the Superior to make a round of the convent, including those portions set apart for the Highlanders, and on this duty I was in the habit of accompanying her, as the men took a great pleasure in my Gaelic; and it was an acceptable service to me to cultivate their good-will towards the community by this simple favour. I knew many of them by name, and indeed some of them could claim kinship with me, notably Neil, the sergeant, whom I have already mentioned, a fine specimen of our people, standing well over six feet in his buckled shoes.

One morning, as we entered the hall set aside for the men, we heard a sharp command from the sergeant, and to our surprise we found the men not only drawn up in line to meet us--which was a voluntary mark of respect they paid the Superior--but now, there stood every man in full dress, with c.o.c.ked and feathered bonnet on his head, claymore by his side, and firelock in his hand, and every pair of st.u.r.dy legs encased in the long grey stockings knitted by the nuns.

The sergeant gravely stepped forward, and, saluting the Superior, addressed her in his most correct English:

"Reverend madam, I am put forward on account of my rank, and not for my poor abilities, to thank the ladies who would think so much of us poor fellows as to be doing us this kindness this day. As long as we live, yes, and long after we are dead, moreover, you may be sure that Fraser's will always remember this; and when we will be telling even to our grandchildren of Quebec and what we did there, we will not forget to speak of your name and of the names of the ladies under your command. And, madam, our solemn hope is that you will never have more cause to blush at our bare knees, saving your presence, than we will have to blush at your kindness, madam."

Then turning quickly to me, he whispered, in Gaelic: "Speak to her, Miss Margaret, and tell her what we would say. It is G.o.d's own truth I am speaking when I say that we are thankful, even though some will be wondering what put such a notion into the poor ladies'

heads." Whereupon he wheeled about and roared out his command to the men, as if to check the grin that was spreading over his own honest face from appearing on any other. There was an instantaneous movement at his command, and the Superior received the full honours of a grand salute.

She was greatly pleased, as indeed she might be, for the poor fellows had shown their grat.i.tude in the most honourable fashion they knew, and she begged me to return her thanks and the a.s.surances of her interest in them all, which I did in terms that, however they might have violated her ideas of rhetoric, were best understood by the men before me:

"Neil, son of Angus, remember," I concluded, "and remember, too, every one who hears me, that though these good sisters do not understand us nor our ways, they have knitted their hearts' kindness into every st.i.tch that has gone into those stockings, and there is not a man of you who has a mother, or a sister, or a wife, at home, who, if she knew what had been done for you this day, but would be down on her knees praying for these good women. In the mean time, see you don't forget to do it yourselves!"

When I finished they were nearer crying than saluting, and I am not sure that I was far from it myself; for, as I spake, the once familiar hills and glens, the humble dwellings, the quiet-faced women, the yellow-haired children, all that meant home to these brave fellows, came before me like in a dream, and I found myself longing for something I thought I had parted with forever.

The winter proved unusually severe, and the suffering of the troops and the few people of condition who remained was excessive, but there was no disorder to speak of, and the hardships were borne uncomplainingly. From time to time we had news of our army encamped on the Jacques Cartier, not only by the legitimate channel of the foraging and reconnoitring parties, but even by means of some who carried on a business of trafficking between the two camps, the greed of gain triumphing over war and famine, and even over ordinary patriotism. It was reported that M. de Levis had said he would eat his Christmas dinner in Quebec under his own flag; but he was not given to such empty boasts, that I had ever heard, and the day pa.s.sed unmarked for us save by the services in our chapel.

Towards the end of January, Archie came to me with a letter. "There, Peggy, this, I take it, should go into your hands, as it is addressed to your care. It is fortunate that Maxwell governs himself like a gentleman in some things, for if he had attempted to send his letter by any underhand means it might have placed you in an unpleasant position, and even exposed me to suspicion. Listen to this--I wish I could write like the fellow:

"CAMP ON THE JACQUES CARTIER, 22 _Jan'y_, 1760.

Sir,--I have the honour to be known to your Excellency's brother, Lord Elibank, and though Fate had thrown me on the side opposed to your command, I venture to beg your courtesy in remitting the enclosed letter to the care of Mme. de St. Just, at present in your lines. I have left it unsealed, should you deem it your duty to peruse it, but I give you my word of honour it contains nothing but the most private matters affecting one in whom Mme.

de St. Just is interested. Should your regulations, however, forbid such a favour, I beg that you will burn it yourself, and I will none the less hold myself to be,

Sir, Your very obliged and humble servant, Hugh Maxwell of Kirkconnel.

To the Hon'ble James Murray, Commanding in Quebec.'

"I give you my word, Peggy, the general would allow such a letter to pa.s.s did it contain all the treason between here and Mozambique.

He bids me give it you with his compliments, and a.s.sure you that not only is it unread, but that should you wish to answer it under the same restriction as to news, he will enclose your reply the first time he has occasion to communicate with the French general."

The letter was addressed to "Mistress Lucy Routh, in the care of Mme. de St. Just," and much as I shrank from opening it, I did so, as it might contain matters which concerned their son. And so it proved. The letter read:

"22 _Jan'y_ 1760.

Dear Lucy,--I send this, trusting to the courtesy of General Murray that it may reach your hands safely. I was so suddenly called away that there was much left unsaid when we parted, and there has been no time for personal matters since. In the event of anything happening to me, I wish you to impress on Christopher that Mr. Drummond, the banker of Charing Cross, holds in trust a small sum deposited there for me by my cousin, the late Lady Jane Drummond. I have placed my will in the hands of M. de Vaudreuil, and whichever way things fall out, this will serve as a receipt, and insure its delivery. I would be glad to know of your well-being.

Hugh Maxwell."

I sent for Christopher, who was not with us but stationed at the General Hospital with others of his regiment, and made known the matter to him, and through the general he sent to his father his acknowledgments and the news of Lucy's death.

I was pleased at the consideration of which the letter was proof, and it was a satisfaction to hear Archie's acknowledgment of Hugh's charm; but beyond this the letter awoke in me no farther feeling, and I was surprised to find I could look at his writing and read his words with so little emotion. The truth is, I was living in a new world; the discovery of my brother's love, the revelation of Mme. de Sarennes's affection towards me, had gone far to fill the hunger and emptiness of my life, and the old spell which had so long dominated every thought and aspiration was no longer paramount.

Then, too, the long strain of feverish hope and unrest, the disappointments and dangers, through which I had pa.s.sed, had rendered me peculiarly sensible to the charm of the quiet convent life by which I was surrounded. Therein I found work into which I threw myself with ardour, and was encouraged by the Superior towards that way of peace upon which the convent doors gave entrance. Could I once determine to cut myself free from the unrest and struggle of the world, I felt that before me opened a life of usefulness which promised amends for all suffering and atonement for all error. My life had so far been lived for myself alone, and I saw about me women who had attained happiness through a complete sacrifice of self. Could I only be sure I had the strength, was not the same reward held out to me?

CHAPTER XXV

A FORLORN HOPE

Absorbed though I was in my work, I could not but mark what was pa.s.sing between Angelique and Archie--how unconsciously my single-hearted brother was following her in that path in which the feeblest maid can lead the strongest of his s.e.x.

Her imagination had been fired by the romance of his finding me, and the story of his early adventures found in her a skilful listener, who could extract every detail from his somewhat unwilling lips. His endeavours to catch her nimble wit as it flew, and the expression of awakening wonder on his face when he suspected her of nonsense, would many a time send us into peals of laughter.

Even Mme. de Sarennes was interested, though she frankly professed nothing beyond an armed neutrality towards our hosts.

So the winter dragged on. There was much suffering among the people, much anxiety and constant alarms for those in command; but each heart loved or hoped, waited or wearied, as in time of peace, and every one looked forward with impatience or anxiety towards the coming of spring, which would bring the denouement.

By April everything was astir once more. The familiar intercourse of the long winter was interrupted, officers and men went about their duties so earnestly we could not but feel that all relations were suspended until the result should be determined. Soon news came of the movements of our army about Montreal and elsewhere, and the English garrison was marched out for daily exercise and duty on the plains, and as far as Ste. Foye.

At length it was clear that some movement was imminent. Orders were issued that the inhabitants were to leave the city--that is, all the common people--and word was sent to the Ursulines and the other communities that they were free to leave, did they so choose, otherwise they must remain through the siege, should the city be invested, and must share the fortunes of the garrison. La mere de la Nativite, our Superior, decided at once that her community should remain, and Mme. de Sarennes said the same for our little party.

Angelique and I stood in la rue St. Jean, and our hearts were stirred by the wailings and lamentations of the people leaving the town in long procession.

"Courage!" cried Angelique, to a despairing woman. "We will welcome you all back again. You will come in with our army!"

"Malbrook s'en va-t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra,"

trolled out a l.u.s.ty fellow, with a laugh.

"Tais-toi, v'limeux!" cried the woman, angrily.

"il reviendra-z-a Paques, Ou a la Trinite,"

he continued, unconcernedly, and the crowd catching at his humour, joined in the lilting refrain, and involuntarily quickened their steps to the "mironton, ton, taine" of the old war song, at which Angelique clapped her hands in delight, and was rewarded with a shout of admiration.

"They would have done better to have fed that fellow," she said, decidedly, as we turned away; "he will do some fighting, depend upon it."

"You are confident, Angelique?"

"Certainly, cherie; the town cannot be defended. We know that, and if General Murray goes out, as he is sure to, he will but march to his fate, as did our poor marquis."

On the 22d of April we were up before daybreak, and saw the garrison march out with their cannon under a leaden sky and a cold drizzling rain. I went about my tasks weighed down by a sickening anxiety, for though I had renounced Hugh, it was impossible to banish him at all times from my thoughts, and I could not but remember that, in addition to the ordinary chances of battle, he had among his enemies a sworn foe in my brother, and among his friends a treacherous enemy in Sarennes. Against these dangers, at least, I could pray for him with an undivided heart.