CHAPTER XXV

A FORLORN HOPE

Absorbed though I was in my work, I could not but mark what was passing 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 sex.

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 lusty 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.

Noise of firing came to us through the day, which we spent in Perpetual Adoration, but at evening the troops re-entered the town and the battle was still unfought.

On the morrow they were again assembled, and again we watched them march through the sodden streets.

We had not long to wait for news of the combat; every gust of wind swept down on us the faint crackle of musketry and the deep boom of cannon; it seemed interminable, but before the afternoon was well advanced the first stragglers had reached the gates. They were followed later by a mad, ungovernable mob of English troops, and soon the streets were choked with men, shrieking, crying, and swearing at their defeat. Their officers, with swords drawn, rode among them, threatening and striking, entreating and commanding to deaf ears, for the men were like wild beasts, and could not be controlled. It was not fear; it was like to a frenzy of rage and shame at their rout. They broke into taverns and even private houses, and presently the madness of drink added to the pandemonium. The wounded were with the greatest difficulty carried through the streets, and before evening our convent and every other refuge was crowded to the utmost.

It was a strange position for all of us; the wounded were our nominal enemies, it is true, but we had been living with them on terms of the kindliest intimacy for a long winter, and there was no stimulus of duty needed to make the nuns put forth every effort for their relief. To me they were more than generous enemies--they were countrymen and kinsmen for whom I was bound to work with a whole heart.

I was interrupted in my task by the appearance of Christopher. "Madam, I have come to tell you that your brother, the Captain, is safe."

"Is he wounded?" I asked, with swift anxiety.

"Yes, madam, but our surgeon says a fine clean cut; and I believe him too, for he went off to sleep the moment it was dressed, more tired than hurt. He is in his own room, where you may look at him if you will promise not to speak," he said, with an air of the greatest importance. "I gave Miss Angelique his clothes to attend to as she asked, for she was there when he was brought in, and waited until she heard the surgeon say there was no danger. She would have liked to watch, too, but I was put in charge."

Christopher cautiously opened the door and allowed me to peep in, and my heart was lightened at the sight of Archie sleeping quietly, his brown curls hidden beneath a mass of bandages, but his face composed and natural.

"Thank you, Christopher," I said. "You are a brave lad."

"There were lots more better than me," he said, modestly, "but we didn't have a chance, for all that."

"Tell me something of what happened."

"I don't know what happened after it began. I only saw the back of the man in front of me, and was too busy with my piece to think of anything else, until I saw my Captain in trouble, and then my hands were full, for the rest of the day. After I hear some of the old powder-eaters talk, madam, I'll be able to make up a fine story for you," he said, with a bright laugh that to me sounded like an echo.

I hastened to our room, and there found Angelique in a state of exultation.

"Victory, Marguerite! As I told you! Our troops are on the Heights and hold the General Hospital, and the English are trapped in these crazy walls!" But in an instant she calmed herself and said, earnestly, "Now is the time for you to save us all!"

"I save you all? What do you mean?"

"Mean, Marguerite? Listen to those cries and the fighting. Do you know what they mean? They mean that the men, the whole garrison on which the English depend, is mad with drink and defeat--and Levis scarce a mile away with his victorious army! Just one word to him, Marguerite, and we are saved; he will be in the town before the morning."

"Yes, but how can it be sent? What can I do?"

"Carry it to him!"

"Angelique, are you mad? How could I carry it?"

"There is your answer," she cried, pointing to Archie's uniform. "You will put these things on, and you can pass the gate without a question. Come, undress at once."

"Oh, Angelique, I cannot! Let me go as I am and I will not hesitate, but--"

"For shame, Marguerite!" cried the high-spirited girl. "For shame! to think of yourself and such school-girl prudery at such a time! But forgive me, cherie; I did not quite mean that. I know what you feel. But do you think I would hesitate had I your height and could I speak English? No, a thousand times no! Marguerite, it must be done! You are the only woman--the only person, man or woman--in Quebec who can do it."

"Angelique," I cried, in an agony of distress, "think of my own people here; it would be almost like betraying them."

"Well, think of them, but think of them as soldiers of King George against whom you were praying night and day, not so many years ago, as you have said yourself."

"But there is my brother!"

"He is safe in bed down-stairs; and when he is a prisoner, Marguerite, I give you my word of honour I will go to M. de Levis and claim him for myself, like a squaw;" and she laughed merrily.

"How can you laugh, Angelique? Don't you see what it means to me?"

"Don't you see what it means to us, Marguerite? You know how we have hoped and suffered. You have lived among us and shared everything we had to give, joy and sorrow alike. Do you owe nothing to us? You were defended by him who lies in his grave below when a jealous woman would have branded you as a spy. Do you owe nothing to the Marquis de Montcalm? Do you owe nothing to those others who stood between you and her malice?"

"Angelique, do you think you need remind me of these things?"

"Forgive me, cherie, if I am ungracious enough to urge the claim of benefits bestowed. This is no time for pretty speeches. I would urge anything to decide you."

"It is not that. If I could go as I am, and simply risk capture, or even death, I would not hesitate."

"You cannot go as you are! A woman could not even pass through the streets to-night; but no one will look twice at a uniform."

"But I cannot. Think what it will mean to me if I am discovered; think what it will mean even if I succeed."

"Marguerite, Marguerite, you must forget what you are! You must forget what you can do, and what you cannot do! Forget everything, save that these tidings must reach M. de Levis to-night, and that you are the only one who can carry them. There! Begin to undress at once! Quick! Quick! Any further delay may render all useless."

Might this not be the reparation for any share I had had in the failure of Sarennes to return to succour Louisbourg? If I accepted it and proved successful, would not I carry into my new vocation something more than the failure of a life that had sought but its own ends? If I failed, would not I have attempted at least something for those who had so generously befriended me? Was not my shrinking from the ordeal of the disguise but a harking back to those little conventions which I had resolved to cast aside forever? Could I make a better use of my life than to lay it down, if need be, in such a cause?

Reasoning thus, I caught something of the intensity of purpose which dominated Angelique, and with fingers as eager as her own I prepared myself for my venture.

"What if I am stopped and spoken to in the town?"

"Don't be stopped," she laughed, "and you mustn't speak unless your life depends on it. Carry your sword in your hand, so it won't trip you up, square your shoulders, and try to swagger like a man. Once outside the walls, you run no danger at all. Keep on the Ste. Foye Road, and you are sure to fall in with our people and be captured in due form. Then say, 'Gentlemen, I am a most important prisoner; take me at once to M. le general!' et v'la! the trick is done! Nothing easier; if I had only learned to speak your barbarous language, and were a little taller, I would be in your shoes to-night, and wouldn't change places with the best lady in Versailles!"

Chattering and laughing thus in her excitement, she shortened up straps and adjusted buckles with as many jests as though dressing me for a masquerade.

"There!" she cried, as she coiled up my hair tightly, "we must do without the wig, but the bonnet will cover a multitude of sins. You are as pretty a looking fellow as the heart of woman could desire. Nothing is wanting now but a brave carriage! Walk up and down like this, till I see," and she did her best to imitate a martial stride. "Courage, cherie! you are pale as a ghost. Courage! and remember every heart true to France will pray for you, whether you win or lose. You are carrying the fate of the colony in your hands to-night. Let me kiss you, cherie. Again. Bah! I'm only crying because I can't go in your stead. Come, I will let you out."

When the side door of the convent shut behind me and I found myself alone in the darkness of the narrow street, my courage wellnigh failed me, and with shame in my heart I realised I was trembling so I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. But the rain dashed into my face by the high wind revived me, and with an effort I went on. As I made my way down past the Jesuits my courage gradually returned, and resolutely thinking of my mission alone, I banished my fears to such extent that I was enabled to grasp my sword firmly, and step forward with some show of assurance.

As I turned into rue St. Jean a drunken soldier struck terror into me again by shouting out a convivial salutation in Gaelic, but his more sober comrades silenced him with low curses at his imprudence, and I went on, unmolested.

There were not so many in the streets as I had expected, and with this one exception no one noticed me; but as I drew near to the St. John's Gate I made out a crowd of men busily engaged in barricading it, and for a moment I stood still in bewildered helplessness. I had so resolved on leaving the town by this means that when I found it closed against me it seemed as if my whole plan had failed. With my heart beating so I could hardly see to direct my steps, I turned back along the way I had come, and it was not until I drew near the Palace Hill I remembered there were other exits. Gaining fresh courage, I turned down and made my way to the Palace Gate, when, for the first time, it struck me that a password must be given, and of it I was ignorant. I did not even know the forms necessary to pass the men, and if an officer were present I must be discovered at once; but it was now too late to draw back, as I was in full view of the guard.

It was a strange time to remember such things, but the first line of poor Lucy's hymn kept ringing in my head, and I advanced, saying over and over to myself, like a charm:

"Thou very present Aid In suffering and distress."

When I was almost face to face with the guard I made out it was composed of sailors, and just as I expected to hear the words which meant discovery and disgrace, one said to the other in a tone of authority: "The Seventy-eighth. It's all right!" and without challenging me they presented arms. Had I even known the password I could not have pronounced it, for my tongue clave to the roof of my mouth; but seeing my intent, the man who had spoken stepped before me and opened the wicket. I raised my hand in acknowledgment, and passed through.

I was without the walls.