Six weary and trying months indeed to most of the personages who figure
in this narrative were those which came to an end with the close of
May, 1759. Even the Baron de Valricour, who always made the best of
everything, had grown heartily tired of the forced inaction incidental
to the long Canadian winter, when he received a despatch from
head-quarters relieving him of his command at Sorel and instructing him
to take up a responsible post at Quebec. The despatch was accompanied
by a private communication from Montcalm himself, one part of which ran
as follows:--
"For these measures, my good old friend and comrade, as well as for any
others which may suggest themselves to you, I confidently rely on your
well-known zeal and experience. The crisis is indeed a grave one. We
have as yet no certainty of any very material aid from France to enable
us to carry on the next campaign, which I have reason to know that Pitt
intends to prosecute with greater energy than ever. His plan is a
grand one, comprising an attack against Niagara, an invasion on the
whole line of Lakes George and Champlain, and a combined naval and
military expedition against Quebec. The capture of Louisburg and Forts
Frontenac and Duquesne last year have given the enemy the command both
of the upper and lower lines of water communication, and a great hold
over us on the north and west, whilst the support of a population of
nearly four hundred thousand in the English American states gives them
a formidable advantage in the south. Although some of the states are
not a little dissatisfied at the cost entailed on them both in men and
money, most of them are evidently ready to make any sacrifices required
of them. New France, on the other hand, gives to us but a population
of some sixty thousand to draw upon, and of those considered capable of
bearing arms we can reckon on only a small proportion as available.
This is a grave disadvantage indeed, where the necessity of carrying
all regular troops across the Atlantic makes both sides so largely
dependent on their colonial militia, whilst the great conference held
by the English with the Indians last autumn has deprived us of the aid
of many tribes formerly friendly to us. The situation, however, is not
without some favourable features. It is easy enough to sit down and
draw great plans, but quite another thing to carry them out within the
few months which our summer here affords, and in a country where the
distances are so great and the natural obstacles so many and so
serious. Amherst is still far from ready, and I doubt his being before
Ticonderoga much sooner than the end of July. Desertion, too, is
already rife among his troops, and I foresee that it will become still
more so. Bourlemaque will have some four thousand good effectives, so
that, apart from the possibility of our repeating the success we gained
last year, I think we shall not see Amherst on the St. Lawrence before
winter sets in again. The fate of this campaign will be decided, not
at Niagara or Ticonderoga, but at Quebec."
The baron had read so far with much interest, but calmly and quietly
enough. As he went on reading, however, he became more excited, and at
last started up with an exclamation of mingled pleasure and surprise.
He was about to quit the apartment, when an orderly came in and
informed him that a young person was without and desired urgently to
speak with him: "Who is it?" said he. "I am particularly engaged just
now." Whilst he was still speaking a female entered the room, and the
orderly, after a moment's hesitation, retired and left them alone.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" inquired the commandant sharply.
"I cannot attend to you now."
But instead of making any reply the intruder flung herself on her knees
before him, sobbing convulsively and evidently in great agitation; then
as she raised her head the baron stepped back, exclaiming, "Is it
possible! Surely it is Marguerite?"
"Yes, it is I," said she, clasping her hands, and looking up to him
with streaming eyes. "I cannot bear it longer. Since I left this
place I have had no peace. How could I, knowing as I did that I had
left one who had risked all for me, to suffer such a dreadful fate? I
could not have been so wicked, but for the hope, stronger than all, of
again seeing one I loved so dearly; but I have been rightly punished.
Alas! I shall never see him more; but even if it were not so, I could
not endure the terrible remorse that my selfishness has caused me. You
who have been so kind and noble-hearted will help me to bear my lot. I
have come to give myself up; you will not--you may not refuse me."
He raised her up and embraced her tenderly, but for a minute or two he
could not speak for emotion. "My dear, dear child," said he at length,
"you have indeed shown yourself the worthy daughter of a most noble
father, and Heaven will reward you for this high-minded and generous
act. Nay, I rejoice to say that it has already found its reward.
Listen to this," and then, as she stood wondering before him, he read
to her the concluding part of Montcalm's letter, which ran thus:
"With regard to a more private matter, I rejoice most heartily that my
efforts have at last been attended with success. If it has not already
reached you, you will shortly receive from Paris an order cancelling
the _lettre de cachet_ under which your prisoners Godefroid and
Gabrielle have been detained. I can sympathise with you in the
pleasure this will give you as regards the latter; as to the supposed
Godefroid of course it matters little beyond the fact that the real
object of our solicitude, wherever he may be, is released from the
terrible ban involved in the now cancelled warrant. Although many
months have elapsed without his making his appearance, I cannot but
hope that he is safe, as I may now mention to you in confidence that I
sent him, accompanied by the guide Boulanger, to Fort Duquesne in the
autumn, and under the peculiar circumstances many things might occur to
prolong his absence."
Well might Isidore's young wife fall once more upon her knees to pour
out her grateful heart in thanksgiving for tidings which changed her
sorrow and despair into joy and hope. Her guardian left her thus
engaged whilst he sought out Amoahmeh and communicated to her not only
the news of her freedom, but that which seemed to touch her far more
deeply, Marguerite's surrender of herself for the purpose of setting
her deliverer free.
The two friends were soon locked in each other's arms, and the baron
leaving them together went forth to make the needful arrangements for
relinquishing his post and proceeding with them to Quebec.
[Illustration: Tailpiece to Chapter V]
[Illustration: Headpiece to Chapter VI]