At day-break on the morning of Sunday, the 16th of August, the fire from
the batteries was resumed, and with a fury that must have satisfied the
Americans, even had they been ignorant of the purpose, it was intended
to cover some ulterior plan of operation on the part of the British
General. Their own object appeared rather to make preparation of defence
against the threatened assault, than to return a cannonade, which,
having attained its true range, excessively annoyed and occasioned them
much loss. Meanwhile every precaution had been taken to secure the safe
transport of the army. The flotilla, considerably superior at the outset
of the war, to that of the Americans, had worked up the river during the
night, and, anchored in the middle, lay with their broadsides ready to
open upon any force that might appear to oppose the landing of the
troops, while numerous scows, for the transport of a light brigade of
horse artillery, and all the boats and batteaux that could be collected,
added to those of the fleet, lay covering the sands, ready to receive
their destined burdens. At length the embarkation was completed, and the
signal having been given, the several divisions of boats moved off in
the order prescribed to them. Never did a more picturesque scene present
itself to the human eye, than during the half hour occupied in the
transit of this little army. The sun was just rising gloriously and
unclouded, as the first division of boats pushed from the shore, and
every object within the British and American line of operation, tended
to the production of an effect that was little in unison with the
anticipated issue of the whole. Not a breeze ruffled the fair face of
the placid Detroit, through which the heavily laden boats now made their
slow, but certain way; and a spectator who, in utter ignorance of
events, might have been suddenly placed on the Canadian bank, would have
been led to imagine that a fête, not a battle, was intended. Immediately
above the village of Sandwich, and in full view of the American Fort,
lay the English flotilla at anchor, their white sails half clewed up,
their masts decked with gay pendants, and their taffrails with ensigns
that lay drooping over their sterns in the water, as if too indolent to
bear up against the coming sultriness of the day. Below these,
glittering in bright scarlet that glowed not unpleasingly on the silvery
stream, the sun's rays dancing on their polished muskets and
accoutrements, glided, like gay actors in an approaching pageant, the
columns destined for the assault--while further down, and distributed
far and wide over the expanse of water, were to be seen a multitude of
canoes filled with Indian warriors, whose war costume could not, in the
distance, be distinguished from that of the dance--the whole
contributing, with the air of quietude on both shores, and absence of
all opposition on the American especially, to inspire feelings of
joyousness and pleasure, rather than the melancholy consequent on a
knowledge of the final destination of the whole. Nor would the incessant
thunder of the cannon in the distance, have in any way diminished this
impression; for as the volumes of smoke, vomited from the opposing
batteries, met and wreathed themselves together in the centre of the
stream, leaving at intervals the gay colors of England and America
brightly displayed to the view, the impression, to a spectator, would
have been that of one who witnesses the exchange of military honors
between two brave and friendly powers, preparing the one to confer, the
other to receive all the becoming courtesies of a chivalrous
hospitality. If anything were wanting to complete the illusion, the
sound of the early mass bell, summoning to the worship of that God whom
no pageantry of man may dispossess of homage, would amply crown and
heighten the effect of the whole, while the chanting of the hymn of
adoration would appear a part of the worship of the Deity, and of the
pageantry itself.
Vying each with the other who should first gain the land, the exertions
of the several rowers increased, as the distance to be traversed
diminished, so that many arrived simultaneously at the beach. Forming in
close column of sections as they landed, the regular troops occupied the
road, their right flank resting on the river, while a strong body of
Indians under Round-head, Split-log, and Walk-in-the-water, scouring the
open country beyond, completely guarded their left from surprise. Among
the first to reach the shore, was the gallant General, the planner of
the enterprise, who with his personal staff, crossed the river in the
barge of the Commodore, steered by that officer himself. During the
short period that the columns were delayed for the landing of the
artillery, necessarily slower in their movements, a short conference
among the leaders, to whom were added Tecumseh and Colonel D'Egville, as
to their final operations, took place. Never did the noble Indian appear
to greater advantage than on this occasion. A neat hunting dress, of
smoked deer-skin, handsomely ornamented, covered his fine and athletic
person, while the swarthiness of his cheek and dazzling lustre of his
eye were admirably set off, not only by the snow-white linen which hung
loose and open about his throat, but by a full turban, in which waved a
splendid white ostrich feather, the much prized gift, as we have already
observed, of Mrs. D'Egville. Firmly seated on his long-tailed grey
charger, which he managed with a dexterity uncommon to his race, his
warrior and commanding air might have called up the image of a
Tamerlane, or Genghis Khan, were it not known that, to the more savage
qualities of these, he united others that would lend lustre to the most
civilized potentates. There was, however, that ardor of expression in
his eye which rumor had ascribed to him, whenever an appeal to arms
against the deadly foe of his country was about to be made, that could
not fail to endear him to the soldier hearts of those who stood around,
and to inspire them with a veneration and esteem, not even surpassed by
what they entertained for their own immediate leader, who in his turn,
animated by the inspiriting scene and confident in his own powers,
presented an appearance so anticipatory of coming success, that the
least sanguine could not fail to be encouraged by it.
It had been arranged that, on the landing of the troops, the flotilla
should again weigh anchor, and approach as near as possible to the
American fort, with a view, in conjunction with the batteries, to a
cross-fire that would cover the approach of the assaulting columns. The
Indians, meanwhile, were to disperse themselves throughout the skirts of
the forest, and, headed by the Chiefs already named, to advance under
whatever they might find in the shape of hedges, clumps of trees, or
fields, sufficiently near to maintain a heavy fire from their rifles on
such force as might appear on the ramparts to oppose the assault--a task
in which they were to be assisted by the brigade of light guns charged
with shrapnel and grape. Tecumseh himself, accompanied by Colonel
D'Egville, was, with the majority of his warriors, to gain the rear of
the town, there to act as circumstances might require. To this, as an
inferior post, the Chieftain had at first strongly objected; but when it
was represented to him that the enemy, with a view to turn the English
flank on the forest side, would probably detach in that direction a
strong force, which he would have the exclusive merit of encountering,
he finally assented; urged to it, as he was, moreover, by the
consideration that his presence would be effectual in repressing any
attempt at massacre, or outrage, of the helpless inhabitants, by his
wild and excited bands.
The guns being at length disembarked and limbered, everything was now in
readiness for the advance. The horses of the General and his staff had
crossed in the scows appropriated to the artillery, and his favorite
charger, being now brought up by his groom, the former mounted with an
activity and vigor, not surpassed even by the youngest of his
aides-de-camp, while his fine and martial form, towered above those
around him, in a manner to excite admiration in all who beheld him.
Giving his brief instructions to his second in command, he now grasped
and shook the hand of his dark brother in arms, who, putting spurs to
his horse, dashed off with Colonel D'Egville into the open country on
the left, in the direction taken by his warriors, while the General and
his staff, boldly, and without escort, pursued their way along the high
road at a brisk trot. The Commodore in his turn, sprang once more into
his barge, which, impelled by stout hearts and willing hands, was soon
seen to gain the side of the principal vessel of the little squadron,
which, rapidly getting under weigh, had already loosened its sails to
catch the light, yet favorable breeze, now beginning to curl the surface
of the river.
During all this time, the cannon from our batteries, but faintly
answered by the Americans, had continued to thunder without
intermission, and as the columns drew nearer, each succeeding discharge
came upon the ear with increased and more exciting loudness. Hitherto
the view had been obstructed by the numerous farm houses and other
buildings, that skirted the windings of the road, but when at length the
column emerged into more open ground, the whole scene burst splendidly
and imposingly upon the sight. Within half a mile, and to the left, rose
the American ramparts, surmounted by the national flag, suspended from a
staff planted on the identical spot which had been the scene of the
fearful exploit of Wacousta in former days. Bristling with cannon, they
seemed now to threaten with extermination those who should have the
temerity to approach them, and the men, awed into silence, regarded them
with a certain air of respect.
Close under the town were anchored the American vessels of war, which,
however, having taken no part in returning the bombardment, had been
left unmolested across the river; and in full view of all, was to be
seen the high ground where the batteries had been erected, and, visible
at such intervals as the continuous clouds of smoke and flashes of fire
would permit, the Union Jack of England floating above the whole; while
in the river and immediately opposite to the point the columns had now
reached, the English flotilla, which had kept pace with their movements,
were already taking up a position to commence their raking fire.
It was on reaching this point of the road, that the British force,
obedient to the command of the General, who, from a farm-house on the
left, was then examining the American defences, filed off past the house
into a large field, preparatory to forming into column to attack.
Scarcely, however, had the General descended to the field to make his
dispositions, when it was observed that the batteries had suddenly
discontinued their fire, and on looking to ascertain the cause, a white
flag was seen waving on the eminence where the heavy guns just alluded
to had been placed. While all were expressing their surprise at this
unexpected circumstance, De Courcy, who, by the direction of his
General, had remained reconnoitring at the top of the house, announced
that an officer, bearing a smaller white flag, was then descending the
road, with an evident view to a parley.
"Ah! is it even so?" exclaimed the General with vivacity, as if to
himself. "Quick! my horse--I must go to meet him. Captain Stanley--De
Courcy--mount! St. Julian," turning to his second in command, "finish
what I have begun--let the columns be got ready in the order I have
directed. We may have need of them yet."
So saying he once more sprang into his saddle, and accompanied by his
young aides-de-camp, galloped past the line of admiring troops, who
involuntarily cheered him as he passed; and quitting the field,
hastened to reach the flag, before the bearer could approach
sufficiently near to make any correct observation respecting his force.
Nearly twenty minutes of anxious suspense had succeeded the departure of
the officer, when De Courcy again made his appearance at full speed.
"Hurrah! hurrah!" he shouted, as he approached a group of his more
immediate companions, who were canvassing the probable termination of
this pacific demonstration on the part of the enemy--"the fort is our
own" (then turning to the second in command,) "Colonel St. Julian, it is
the General's desire that the men pile their arms on the ground they
occupy, and refresh themselves with whatever their haversacks contain."
"How is this, De Courcy?"--"Surely the Americans do not
capitulate?"--"Is it to be child's play, after all?"--were among the
various remarks made to the young aide-de-camp, on his return from the
delivery of the last order.
"Heaven only knows how, Granville," said the vivacious officer, in reply
to the first querist; "but certainly it is something very like it, for
the General, accompanied by Stanley, has entered the town under the
flag. However, before we discuss the subject further, I vote that we
enter the farm-house, and discuss wherewith to satisfy our own
appetites--I saw a devilish pretty girl just now, one who seemed to have
no sort of objection to a handsome scarlet uniform, whatever her
predilections for a blue with red facings may formerly have been. She
looked so good-naturedly on Stanley and myself, that we should have
ogled her into a breakfast ere this, had not the General sworn he would
not break his fast until he had planted the colors of England on yon
fortress, or failed in the attempt. Of course we, as young heroes, could
not think of eating after that. But come along--nay, Cranstoun, do not
look as if you were afraid to budge an inch without an order in
writing.--I have it in suggestion from Colonel St. Julian, that we go in
and do the best we can."
They now entered and asked for breakfast, when bread, eggs, milk, fruit,
cider, and whatever the remains of yesterday's meal afforded, were
successively brought forward by the dark-eyed daughter of the farmer,
who, as De Courcy had remarked, seemed by no means indisposed towards
the gay looking invaders of her home. There was a recklessness about the
carriage of most of these, and even a foppery about some, that was
likely to be anything but displeasing to a young girl, who, French
Canadian by birth, although living under the Government of the United
States, possessed all the natural vivacity of character peculiar to the
original stock. Notwithstanding the pertinacity with which her aged
father lingered in the room, the handsome and elegant De Courcy
contrived more than once to address her in an under tone, and elicit a
blush that greatly heightened the brilliant expression of her large
black eyes, and Villiers subsequently declared that he had remarked the
air of joyousness and triumph that pervaded her features, on the young
aide-de-camp promising to return to the farm as soon as the place had
been entered, and leisure afforded him.
"But the particulars of the flag, De Courcy," said Captain Granville, as
he devoured a hard-boiled turkey egg, which in quantity fully made up
for what it wanted in quality. "When you have finished flirting with
that unfortunate girl, come and seat yourself quietly, and tell us what
passed between the General and the officer who bore it. Why, I thought
you had a devil of an appetite just now."
"Ah, true!" returned the young man, taking his seat at the rude naked
table which bore their meal. "I had quite forgotten my appetite--_mais
ça viendra en mangent, n'est ce pas?_" and he looked at the young girl.
"_Plait il, Monsieur?_"
"Be silent, my daughter, they are not speaking to you," gruffly remarked
her father.
"The old boy is becoming savage at your attentions," remarked Villiers,
"you will get the girl into a scrape."
"Bah!" ejaculated De Courcy. "Well, but of the General. Who, think you,
was the bearer of the flag? No other than that fine-looking fellow,
Colonel--what's his name, who came to us the other day."
"Indeed, singular enough. What said the General to him on meeting?"
asked Henry Grantham.
"'Well, Colonel,' said he smiling, 'you see I have kept my word. This is
the day on which I promised that we should meet again.'"
"What answer did he make?" demanded Villiers.
"'True, General, and most happily have you chosen. But one day sooner,
and we should have dared your utmost in our stronghold. To-day,' and he
spoke in a tone of deep mortification, 'we have not resolution left to
make a show even in vindication of our honor. In a word, I am here to
conduct you to those who will offer terms derogatory at once to our
national character, and insulting to our personal courage.'
"The General," pursued De Courcy, "respecting the humiliated manner of
the American, again bowed, but said nothing. After a moment of pause,
the latter stated that the Governor and Commander of the fortress were
waiting to receive and confer with him as to the terms of capitulation.
All I know further is, that, attended by Stanley, he has accompanied the
flag into the town, and that, having no immediate occasion for my
valuable services, he sent me back to give to Colonel St. Julian the
order you have heard."
The deep roll of the drum summoning to fall in, drew them eagerly to
their respective divisions. Captain Stanley, the senior aide-de camp,
was just returned with an order for the several columns to advance and
take up their ground close under the ramparts of the fort.
It was an interesting and a novel sight, to see the comparatively
insignificant British columns, flanked by the half dozen light guns
which constituted their whole artillery, advance across the field, and
occupy the plain or common surrounding the fort, while the Americans on
the ramparts appeared to regard with indignation and surprise the mere
handful of men to whom they were about to be surrendered. Such a
phenomenon in modern warfare as that of a weak besieging force bearding
a stronger in their hold, might well excite astonishment; and to an
army, thrice as numerous as its captors, occupying a fortress well
provided with cannon, as in this instance, must have been especially
galling. More than one of the officers, as he looked down from his
loftier and more advantageous position, showed by the scowl that
lingered on his brow, how willingly he would have applied the match to
the nearest gun whose proximity to his enemies promised annihilation to
their ranks. But the white flag still waved in the distance, affording
perfect security to those who had confided in their honor, and although
liberty, and prosperity, and glory were the sacrifice, that honor might
not be tarnished.
At length the terms of capitulation being finally adjusted De Courcy,
who with his brother aid-de-camp, had long since rejoined the General,
came up with instructions for a guard to enter and take possession
preparatory to the Americans marching out. Detachments from the flank
companies, under the command of Captain Granville, with whom were
Middlemore and Henry Grantham, were selected for the duty, and these now
moved forward, with drums beating and colors flying, towards the
drawbridge then lowering to admit them.
The area of the fort in no way enlarged, and but slightly changed in
appearance, since certain of our readers first made acquaintance with it
in Wacousta, was filled with troops, and otherwise exhibited all the
confusion incident to preparations for an immediate evacuation. These
preparations, however, were made with a savageness of mien by the
irregulars, and a sullen silence by all, that attested how little their
inclination had been consulted in the decision of their Chief. Many an
oath was muttered, and many a fierce glance was cast by the angry
back-woodsmen, upon the little detachment as it pursued its way, not
without difficulty, through the dense masses that seemed rather to
oppose than aid their advance to the occupancy of the several posts
assigned them.
One voice, deepest and most bitter in its half suppressed execration,
came familiarly on the ear of Henry Grantham, who brought up the rear of
the detachment. He turned quickly in search of the speaker, but,
although he felt persuaded it was Desborough who had spoken, coupling
his own name even with his curses, the ruffian was nowhere to be seen.
Satisfied that he must be within the Fort, and determined if possible,
to secure the murderer who had, moreover, the double crime of treason
and desertion, to be added to his list of offences, the young officer
moved to the head of the detachment when halted, and communicated what
he heard to Captain Granville. Entering at once into the views of his
subaltern, and anxious to make an example of the traitor, yet unwilling
to act wholly on his own responsibility, Captain Granville dispatched an
orderly to Colonel St. Julien to receive his instructions. The man soon
returned with a message to say that Desborough was by all means to be
detained, and secured, until the General, who was still absent, should
determine on his final disposal.
Meanwhile the sentinels at the several posts having been relieved, and
every thing ready for their departure, the American army, leaving their
arms piled in the area, commenced their evacuation of the Fort, the
artillery and troops of the line taking the lead. Watchfully alive to
the order that had been received, Captain Granville and Henry Grantham
lingered near the gate, regarding, yet with an air of carelessness,
every countenance among the irregular troops as they issued forth.
Hitherto their search had been ineffectual, and to their great surprise,
although the two last of the prisoners were now in the act of passing
them, there was not the slightest trace of Desborough. It was well known
that the fort had no other outlet, and any man attempting to escape over
the ramparts, must have been seen and taken either by the troops or by
the Indians, who in the far distance completely surrounded them. Captain
Granville intimated the possibility of Henry Grantham having been
deceived in the voice, but the latter as pertinaciously declared he
could not be mistaken, for, independently, of his former knowledge of
the man, his tones had so peculiarly struck him on the day when he made
boastful confession of his father's murder, that no time could efface
them from his memory. This short discussion terminated just as the last
few files were passing. Immediately in the rear of these were the
litters, on which were borne such of the wounded as could be removed
from the hospital without danger. These were some thirty in number, and
it seemed to both officers as somewhat singular, that the faces of all
were, in defiance of the heat of the day, covered with the sheets that
had been spread over each litter. For a moment the suspicion occurred to
Grantham, that Desborough might be of the number; but when he reflected
on the impossibility that any of the wounded men could be the same whose
voice had sounded so recently in the full vigor of health in his ear, he
abandoned the idea. Most of the wounded, as they passed, indicated by
low and feeble moaning, the inconvenience they experienced from the
motion to which they were subjected, and more or less expressed by the
contortions of their limbs, the extent of their sufferings. An exception
to this very natural conduct was remarked by Grantham, in the person of
one occupying nearly a central position in the line, who was carried
with difficulty by the litter-men. He lay perfectly at his length, and
without any exhibition whatever of that impatient movement which escaped
his companions. On the watchful eye of Grantham, this conduct was not
lost. He had felt a strong inclination from the first, to uncover the
faces of the wounded men in succession, and had only been restrained
from so doing by the presence of the American medical officer who
accompanied them, whom he feared to offend by an interference with his
charge. Struck as he was however by the remarkable conduct of the
individual alluded to, and the apparently much greater effort with which
he was carried, he could not resist the temptation which urged him to
know more.
"Stay," he exclaimed to the bearers of the litter, as they were in the
act of passing. The men stopped. "This man, if not dead, is evidently
either dying or fainting--give him air."
While speaking he advanced a step or two, and now extending his right
hand endeavored gently to pull down the sheet from the head of the
invalid but the attempt was vain. Two strong and nervous arms were
suddenly raised and entwined in the linen, in a manner to resist all his
efforts.
Grantham glanced an expressive look at Captain Granville. The latter
nodded his head in a manner to show he was understood, then desiring the
litter-men to step out of the line and deposit their burden, he said to
the medical officer with the sarcasm that so often tinged his address.
"I believe, sir, your charge embraces only the wounded of the garrison.
This dead man can only be an incumbrance to you and it shall be my care
that his body is properly disposed of."
A signal was made by him to the file of men in his rear, who each
seizing on the covering of the litter, dragged it forcibly off,
discovering in the act the robust and healthy form of Desborough.
"You may pass on," continued the officer to the remainder of the party.
"This fellow, at once a murderer and a traitor, is my prisoner."
"Ha!" exclaimed Middlemore, who had all this time been absent on the
duties connected with his guard, and now approached the scene of this
little action for the first time; "what! do I see my friend Jeremiah
Desborough--the prince of traitors, and the most vigorous of wrestlers!
Verily my poor bones ache at the sight of you. How came you to be
caught in this trap my old boy? Better have been out duck-shooting with
the small bores, I reckon."
But Desborough was in no humor to endure this mirth. Finding himself
discovered, he had risen heavily from the litter to his feet, and now
moved doggedly towards the guard-house, where the men had orders to
confine him. His look still wore the character of ferocity, which years
had stamped there, but with this was mixed an expression that denoted
more of the cowering villain, whom a sudden reverse of fortune may
intimidate, than the dauntless adventurer to whom enterprizes of hazard
are at once a stimulus and a necessity. In short, he was entirely
crest-fallen.
"Come and see the effect of Gerald's excellent fire," said Middlemore,
when Desborough had disappeared within the guard-room. "I will show you
the room pointed out to me by the subaltern whom I relieved, as that in
which four field officers and three surgeons were killed."
Preceded by their companion, Captain Granville and Grantham entered the
piazza leading to the officers' rooms, several of which were completely
pierced with twenty-four pound shot, known at once as coming from the
centre battery, which alone mounted guns of that calibre. After
surveying the interior a few moments, they passed into a small passage
communicating with the room in question. On opening the door, all were
painfully struck by the sight which presented itself. Numerous
shot-holes were visible everywhere throughout, while the walls at the
inner extremity of the apartment were completely bespotted with blood
and brains, scarcely yet dry anywhere, and in several places dripping to
the floor. At one corner of the room, and on a mattress, lay the form of
a wounded man, whom the blue uniform and silver epaulettes, that filled
a chair near the head, attested for an American officer of rank. At the
foot of the bed, dressed in black, her long hair floating wildly over
the shoulders, and with a hand embracing one of those of the sufferer,
sat a female, apparently wholly absorbed in the contemplation of the
scene before her. The noise made by the officers on entering had not
caused the slightest change in her position, nor was it until she heard
the foot-fall of Captain Granville, as he advanced for the purpose of
offering his services, that she turned to behold who were the intruders.
The sight of the British uniform appeared to startle her, for she
immediately sprang to her feet, as if alarmed at their presence. It was
impossible they could mistake those features and that face. It was Miss
Montgomerie. He who lay at her feet, was her venerable uncle. He was one
of the field officers who had fallen a victim to Gerald's fire, and the
same ball which had destroyed his companions, had carried away his
thigh, near the hip bone. The surgeons had given him over, and he had
requested to be permitted to die where he lay. His wish had been
attended to, but in the bustle of evacuation, it had been forgotten to
acquaint the officers commanding the British guard that he was there.
The last agonies of death had not yet passed away, but there seemed
little probability that he could survive another hour.
Perceiving the desperate situation of the respectable officer, Captain
Granville stayed not to question on a subject that spoke so plainly for
itself. Hastening back into the piazza with his subalterns, he reached
the area just as the remaining troops, intended for the occupation of
the fort, were crossing the drawbridge, headed by Colonel St. Julian. To
this officer he communicated the situation of the sufferer, when an
order was given for the instant attendance of the head of the medical
staff. After a careful examination and dressing of the wound, the latter
pronounced the case not altogether desperate. A great deal of blood had
been lost, and extreme weakness had been the consequence, but still the
Surgeon was not without hope that his life might yet be preserved,
although, of course, he would be a cripple for the remainder of his
days.
It might have been assumed, that the hope yet held out, of preservation
of life on any terms, would have been hailed with some manifestation of
grateful emotion, on the part of Miss Montgomerie; but it was remarked
and commented on, by those who were present, that this unexpectedly
favorable report, so far from being received with gratitude and delight,
seemed to cast a deeper gloom over the spirit of this extraordinary
girl. The contrast was inexplicable. She had tended him at the moment
when he was supposed to be dying, with all the anxious solicitude of a
fond child; and now that there was a prospect of his recovery, there was
a sadness in her manner that told too plainly the discomfort of her
heart.
"An unaccountable girl!" said Cranstoun, as he sipped his wine that day
after dinner, in the mess-room at Detroit. "I always said she was the
child of the devil."
"Child of the devil in soul, if you will," observed Granville, "but a
true woman--a beautiful, a superb woman in person at least, did she
appear this morning, when we first entered the room--did she not,
Henry?"
"Beautiful indeed," was the reply--"yet, I confess, she more awed than
pleased me. I could not avoid, even amid that melancholy scene,
comparing her to a beautiful casket, which, on opening, is found to
contain not a gem of price, but a subtle poison, contact with which is
fatal; or to a fair looking fruit, which, when divided, proves to be
rotten at the core."
"Allegorical, by all that is good, bad, and indifferent," exclaimed
Villiers. "How devilish severe you are, Henry, upon the pale Venus. It
is hardly fair in you thus to rate Gerald's intended."
"Gerald's intended! God forbid."
This was uttered with an energy that startled his companions. Perceiving
that the subject gave him pain, they discontinued allusion to the lady
in question, further than to inquire how she was to be disposed of, and
whether she was to remain in attendance on her uncle.
In answer, they were informed, that as the Major could not be removed,
orders had been given by the General for every due care to be taken of
him where he now lay, while Miss Montgomerie, yielding to solicitation,
had been induced to retire into the family of the American General in
the town, there to remain until it should be found convenient to have
the whole party conveyed to the next American post on the frontier.