CHAPTER XXIII

THE HEIGHTS OF QUEBEC

Christopher was at once examined by M. Arnoux, the surgeon, who obligingly came at Angelique's request, and before long he met us to report that his patient was in no danger; his wound was dressed, and a night's sleep would go far to put him on his feet again. He could be seen without even fatigue on the morrow. I left word with the sister in charge that she should tell him I was in the convent, and would come to him about eleven.

I had no hesitation in telling Lucy the news; indeed, the suspense of every day that passed was wearing her frail body away so rapidly that, had not God seen fit to send His answer to her prayer at this very time, she would have passed beyond its comfort. As it was, the news acted on her like some generous wine, strengthening without exciting her, her only request being that Christopher should not be brought to her until he was quite able for the exertion.

When I entered Christopher's room he was already sitting up in bed, his eyes fairly dancing with delight.

"Oh, Madame de St. Just! Think of my being brought here, to find you and my mother under the same roof, and that it was Captain Maxwell who brought me! He saved me when I was down with an Indian over me, and did not get me off without standing some hard knocks himself. He carried me into the French lines, and as soon as the affair was over, rode with me before him all this distance, keeping my heart up the time by saying, 'Kit, my boy, I am taking you to your mother,' and I so near swooning with this stupid arm I could scarce hear him. You know I was with him in Louisbourg, and when I was a child in London he lodged with us, as he was in hiding on account of the Scotch rising and calling himself Captain Geraldine. But tell me of my mother, madame. Can I not see her now?"

I told him as discreetly as I could of poor Lucy's condition, and he bore up astonishingly well. What seemed to trouble him greatly was the thought that he had never dreamed of the possibility of her being ill. "Even though she was a prisoner I never feared she would be hardly treated; no one could so cruel to my mother, she is so gentle!" the poor lad continued. "I knew you were with her, and I never thought of the other danger at all. I was so happy when I fell into English hands and was allowed to enlist in Boston, and in Fraser's Highlanders, too, not in a Colony regiment; and when we found there was no danger of peace being proclaimed, and that we were for Quebec, we were all mad with joy to have another crack at the French. Oh, pardon me, madame; I forgot you were on their side," he cried, with a sudden confusion; "and I never doubted for a moment I should find her here."

The next day the surgeon pronounced him out of all possible danger, and added, significantly, "If his mother is to see him, it is best it should be at once." Thereupon I obtained the necessary permission, and never have I seen greater joy in a face than in Lucy's, when I ushered Christopher into her room.

That same evening, as I sate beside her, though she lay quiet and composed, I noticed a grave change had come over her, and calling one of the sisters who had had much experience, she at once said the end was near.

With the permission of the Superior I went for Christopher, and led him, white and awe--struck, to the bedside of his mother. She asked that I would not leave--"if it be not a trouble to you, madame," the poor thing pleaded, pitifully--and I remained beside them.

"Christopher," she said, with an effort, "I made a promise years ago that when this hour came I would tell you the truth about yourself. Our name is not Routh, but Maxwell; you are the son of the Captain Maxwell who saved you--and brought you back to me. You remember him as the 'Captain Geraldine' who lodged with us in London? He had married me six years before, when we were but little more than boy and girl, and when you were born he was wandering a shipwrecked man in Russia, seeking eagerly some means of return to us, though I was persuaded he had deserted me. When he returned, and was willing to acknowledge me as his wife, I was hardened into a heartless woman, believing myself separated, by what I ignorantly called God's grace, from him and the world to which he belonged. In my pride I refused to let him come into our lives, though he implored me to let him make such restitution as was in his power. He behaved as few men would have done; for the sake of the old love, he bore with me and accepted my conditions--that he would never mention our marriage, and would never come between you and me. He let you go away from his side in Louisbourg, though his heart was yearning for you; because his honour, a quality which I pretended not to understand, forbade him to forget his promise to me. He was always good to me, far beyond my deserts, and my hope, now that my eyes are opened, is that you, Christopher, will remember my debt to him.

"Try and be gentle, my boy. Be true to him. He has had a sad, lonely life, but you may make it up to him yet. When you see him, tell him from me... tell Hugh..."--but here I silently withdrew, leaving the mother to whisper her last message of contrition to the boy kneeling beside her bed.

Pitiful as was poor Lucy's story, I could gather but little comfort from it. It seemed to me that in marrying out of his own class Hugh had committed so grave a fault that whatever followed in the way of misunderstanding was but to be expected. He had been kind, forbearing, larger-minded than she had known; she had not even realised the sense of honour which had made her a wife and not a mistress. It had gone the way of all mistakes, and produced nothing but bitterness and regret. From it I could gather no excuse, no justification of his conduct towards me; he had allowed my affection to grow up and centre in him without a warning I could understand of the heart-break which confronted me, and I could not see that his obligation towards her who had cast his love aside was more sacred than to her to whom it was all in all.

We laid Lucy to rest in the garden of the Hospital--without the rites of the Church, it is true, but not without both prayers and tears, and then took up the daily round of duty once more.

Christopher, being no longer a patient, was ordered off to the town as a prisoner, but I sent with him a note to M. Joannes which secured him generous treatment. Through the month of August the wounded continued to come in, and though our troops were starving as they stood behind their lines of defence, they were one and all hopeful of the result. The bombardment from the Levy shore continued until the town was little more than a heap of ruins, and night after night the sky was red with the glare of burning buildings. Part of the enemy's fleet had passed the city and threatened to cut off all supplies from the upper parishes. There were ugly rumours, too, of the Canadians deserting, for the tidings of the loss of Carillon and Niagara had gone far to dishearten them. On the other hand, we had authentic news of the desperate illness of the English general, Wolfe, and even though M. de Levis was forced to march to the support of Montreal, the unfaltering courage of M. de Montcalm so inspired our troops that they held on successfully, praying for relief or the coming of winter.

About the beginning of September Angelique came to me greatly excited.

"Oh, Marguerite, Charles is here! He is very ill. Will you come and see him?"

"Is he wounded?"

"No. But he has suffered incredible hardships 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 passing 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 God, 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 reassuring 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, slashing 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 hoarse, 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.

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 passage, 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 passed 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 passed; 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 assurance 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."

The common danger, the common worship, drew us together. Each succeeding verse, with its divine assurance 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 principal 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."

"You are victors, monsieur, and can command," she said, bitterly.

"We are victors, madame," he returned, gravely, "but we have bought our honours dearly. Our general lies dead on the plain above."

"C'est sur le champ d'honneur, monsieur," she instantly responded, in a tone of much feeling.

"A thousand thanks for your sympathy, madame; we will use every diligence to preserve it. Captain Nairn will take charge here, and will give you assurance of safety and protection from insult. In return, you will kindly offer such shelter to the wounded as is possible, and furnish him with every information as to the number of rooms available, for I must ask for all accommodation in your power."

He introduced Captain Nairn and withdrew at once, followed by the assurances of the Superior that everything would be done for the comfort of the wounded.

It was with a curious feeling that I looked on my brother, for I could not doubt that it was he, though I had not seen him since we were children. Despite the disorder of his dress and his evident fatigue, he was a handsome man, though not much taller than myself. His address was natural and easy, and certainly his French was perfect; I had but a moment to gather this, for we were at once dismissed from our attendance by the Superior, who remained alone to arrange with our new masters.

"O, ciel! Marguerite! is that your brother?" whispered Angelique, excitedly.

"Yes, cherie, I have no doubt it is," I answered, sadly.

"I should not sigh over such a misfortune," she cried, gayly. "You are cold-blooded creatures, you Scotch! Why, I should have been weeping on his neck long ago, no matter what had happened! He has eyes like yours."