The Span o' Life: A Tale of Louisbourg & Quebec

  CHAPTER XXIV

  RECONCILIATION

  We found Mme. de Sarennes awaiting us in her room, with a generousbouillon warming over a lamp. "Hunger and faintness will not addto your courage, my daughters; sit down and eat. We shall have needof all our strength for the morrow," she said, cheerfully. We wereeager to discuss the events of the day, but she would not listento a word. "You must be good soldiers now and obey orders; eatfirst, and then to bed. Angelique, do you set an example and go atonce."

  "La ceremonie faite, chacun s'en fut coucher," repeated Angelique,sleepily, as she kissed us and went. Then I turned to her mother.

  "Mme. de Sarennes, I am in a difficulty. May I ask your help?"

  "Marguerite, ma cherie, I am afraid I am thought a stern woman;but you know how dear those I love are to me, and I have learnedto love you. You may speak to me as you would have spoken to yourown mother," she said, with a tenderness that went to my heart.

  I arose and seated myself beside her, and with my hand in hers Itold her of my home, of my life with Lady Jane, and my devotion tothe cause of the Prince; of my pride in my only brother, and ofwhat I considered his desertion, which led to my girlish renunciationand my estrangement from him. "He is the Captain Nairn who camewith General Townshend to-night. What shall I do, madame?"

  "You must go to him on the morrow, my child, without hesitation.Such a tie is too sacred to be thrown away lightly." Here shepaused, and laying her hand on my arm, said, in tones of the deepestfeeling, "Marguerite, when you are an old woman like me, I prayyou may never have to look back with regret on an opportunity forreconciliation cast aside." She spake with such intense emotionthat I could not doubt I had unwittingly stirred some painful memoryof her past, but in a moment she recovered, and said, tenderly:"Remember, you both lay on the same breast; you looked into thesame mother's eyes. Think of the pain it would cause her to knowthat there is anything in her children's hearts towards each other,save the love with which she filled them. But I need not say more;I see your intent in your face. Remember, too, we need all theinterest we can command with our new guests. Now get some rest, mychild; you are worn out."

  When I awakened in the morning I found the whole community astir,for all night long the wounded had been brought in, until everybed and corner was occupied, and even the barns, sheds, and outhouseswere filled to overflowing.

  French and English lay side by side, helpless and patient. As Icrossed the hall I noticed a big Highland sergeant lying on astretcher, waiting until some place was found for him, with thesweat standing in great beads on his forehead. He muttered somekind of a prayer in Gaelic as I passed, and at the sound of theonce familiar tongue I stopped, and, bending over him, wiped awaythe perspiration, and spake to him in his own language. He staredat me in the utmost astonishment, and then swore a great oath, andthe tears filled his eyes.

  I at last found a soldier who was not on duty, and by him sent amessage to Captain Nairn that a lady desired speech with him whenhe was at liberty.

  He returned with word that the Captain fixed eleven o'clock, andat that hour I awaited in the parlour. As I waited I wondered thatI had ever made any question of meeting him; I could even see thathis choice of life had its defence, from a man's point of view. Asoldier is first of all a soldier, and waiting the heaviest of hisduties; though he is ready to suffer incredibly for his cause whenit is active, it is the women who keep the personal attachmentsalive through the weary days when everything but hope is dead.

  I spake at once on his entrance.

  "Archie, I am your sister Margaret."

  "My dearest Peggy!" was all he said, but he caught me in his strongarms and nearly crushed the breath out of me. He petted and fondledme, calling me by every dear name of childhood, until my heart wasnigh to bursting with this treasure of love lavished upon me whenI least expected it.

  I was brought back to the present when he questioned me on thereason of my being in Canada, and though it cost me a bitter strugglewith my pride, I told him the whole story of my folly. I could notspare myself when he took me so on trust.

  "And you say that Maxwell was married all this time?" he asked,sternly.

  "Yes, but--"

  "There are no 'buts'!" he interrupted, fiercely. "I will kill himon sight!"

  "Archie, my brother, think what you say! I do not know that hedeceived me, and I do know I deceived myself.

  "I can't help that! If he had not been there, you never would havemade the mistake. The only pity is I was not on the ground at thetime."

  "But, Archie, think of me. Think what an open scandal will mean.No one but you and me, and one other," I added--remembering le pereJean--"knows anything of this now."

  "And what do we care about other people, Peggy? We Nairns are notused to asking leave for our actions; and so long as you yourselfare not ashamed, I do not give a rotten nut for the rest of theworld. It is no question of the personal feeling at all; it is theprinciple! I have no personal quarrel with Maxwell; on the contrary,I like him. He was a brother to me in Louisbourg; but, thank God!I can sink my likings and dislikings, when it comes to a case suchas this. No, no, Peggy; you'd best leave things in my hands."

  "No, Archie, I will not! There has been heart-break and miseryenough over this as it is, without adding more."

  "But this will wipe it all out. Cannot you understand?" he said,with a touch of impatience.

  "Archie, cannot you understand that, however clearly I regret myown folly, I cannot in a moment stamp out the feeling in which Ihave lived all these years?"

  "You don't tell me you care for the fellow yet, Peggy?" he cried,in a tone of genuine astonishment.

  "I am afraid I do."

  "God bless my soul! That is beyond me."

  "You are not a woman, Archie."

  "No, thank God I am not," he answered, without the vestige of asmile. "Of all the wearisome things in the world, I can imaginenothing worse than being a woman."

  "And yet there are a good many who have to put up with thisweariness."

  "The Lord help them! But we must not fall to quarrelling at ourfirst meeting; that would be altogether too much like boy and girlagain. Peggy, do you remember how we used to fight over the plovers'nests?" and he laughed merrily at the thought. "Don't be put outby a little thing like this. I'll not kill the gentleman behind ahedge or in the dark; he shall have nothing to complain of, restassured. But I have sad news for your friends, Margaret. M. deMontcalm died at daybreak this morning."

  "Oh, Archie! We did not even know that he was wounded."

  "Nor did we until late last night, for he was seen on his horseduring the retreat. He was a fine soldier."

  "He was more than that, Archie. He was a man of honour and the soulof his army--and he was very good to me," I sobbed, breaking downat the remembrance of his chivalrous protection.

  To my surprise, Archie put his arm about me. "Cry on, Peggy, mylamb," he said, in the soft endearment of the Gaelic. And thesoldier who had so readily decided on the death of a man a momentsince, now melted at the sight of a woman's grief, and offered herthat best of all consolation, sympathy. Nothing else could soquickly have revealed to me the wrong I had been guilty of inholding aloof from this strong affection that had held fast insimple, unwavering loyalty to the love of childhood. To him I hadalways remained the Peggy of the old home; in his generous heartthe thought of any necessity for reconciliation had no place, forhe held himself as the head of the family, from whom protectionfor the weaker must necessarily flow.

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

  Days of unceasing work now followed for all who would assist innursing and the innumera
ble little duties necessitated by thepresence of so large a body of invalids, and, to their honour, eventhe most frivolous of the women took their share uncomplainingly,making no distinction between friend and foe. The most conflictingrumours reached us as to the movements of our army, and of theintentions of M. de Ramesay, governor of the city, but we fortunatelyhad little leisure for speculation, and our doubts were ended bythe 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 whenher numerous guests took their departure. The nuns of the Hotel-Dieuand the Ursulines returned to their respective convents, and inthat of the latter Mme. de Sarennes secured rooms for the winter.

  It was pitiful to see the condition of the town, for the destructionby the bombardment had been almost complete. The Lower Town nolonger existed, and scarce a building remained along the front ofthe Upper. Angelique and I wandered towards the familiar rue duParloir, to find but a line of crumbling walls, blackened androofless; before it our little isle of houses, as well as theBishop's Palace, lay a mass of ruin, and behind it stood the wreckedCathedral. Every building that could serve as a mark had sufferedin some measure, and the chapel of our convent was the only sacredplace left in this city of churches where worship could be celebrated.Here mass and vespers alternated with the services of the Episcopalianand Presbyterian divines, and I am certain none suffered from thenear fellowship of the other.

  A detachment of Archie's regiment, the Fraser Highlanders, wasquartered on us for the winter, and with them the community sharedtheir diminished hospitality; they, in turn, lent us their servicesin collecting firewood and in drawing water, and it was surprisingto mark the good-will that was shown on both sides. Not only werethey granted full permission to smoke in the quarters assigned tothem, but the nuns, taking compassion on their unsuitable, and, intheir eyes, almost indecent, dress, fell to work at knitting forthem long stockings of the heaviest wool, which occasioned loudlaughter and much sly jesting among the men, and on our sideAngelique provoked some of the younger nuns to such merriment byher sallies on the subject that they thereby incurred thedisapprobation of their more serious-minded elders.

  For this attention General Murray sent to the Superior a mostgracious acknowledgment of his gratitude 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 roundof the convent, including those portions set apart for theHighlanders, and on this duty I was in the habit of accompanyingher, as the men took a great pleasure in my Gaelic; and it was anacceptable service to me to cultivate their good-will towards thecommunity by this simple favour. I knew many of them by name, andindeed some of them could claim kinship with me, notably Neil, thesergeant, whom I have already mentioned, a fine specimen of ourpeople, standing well over six feet in his buckled shoes.

  One morning, as we entered the hall set aside for the men, we hearda sharp command from the sergeant, and to our surprise we foundthe men not only drawn up in line to meet us--which was a voluntarymark of respect they paid the Superior--but now, there stood everyman in full dress, with cocked and feathered bonnet on his head,claymore by his side, and firelock in his hand, and every pair ofsturdy 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 notfor my poor abilities, to thank the ladies who would think so muchof us poor fellows as to be doing us this kindness this day. Aslong as we live, yes, and long after we are dead, moreover, youmay be sure that Fraser's will always remember this; and when wewill be telling even to our grandchildren of Quebec and what wedid there, we will not forget to speak of your name and of thenames of the ladies under your command. And, madam, our solemn hopeis 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 toher, Miss Margaret, and tell her what we would say. It is God'sown truth I am speaking when I say that we are thankful, even thoughsome will be wondering what put such a notion into the poor ladies'heads." Whereupon he wheeled about and roared out his command tothe men, as if to check the grin that was spreading over his ownhonest face from appearing on any other. There was an instantaneousmovement at his command, and the Superior received the full honoursof a grand salute.

  She was greatly pleased, as indeed she might be, for the poorfellows had shown their gratitude in the most honourable fashionthey knew, and she begged me to return her thanks and the assurancesof her interest in them all, which I did in terms that, howeverthey might have violated her ideas of rhetoric, were best understoodby 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 notunderstand us nor our ways, they have knitted their hearts' kindnessinto every stitch that has gone into those stockings, and there isnot 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 bedown 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 amnot sure that I was far from it myself; for, as I spake, the oncefamiliar hills and glens, the humble dwellings, the quiet-facedwomen, the yellow-haired children, all that meant home to thesebrave fellows, came before me like in a dream, and I found myselflonging for something I thought I had parted with forever.

  The winter proved unusually severe, and the suffering of the troopsand the few people of condition who remained was excessive, butthere was no disorder to speak of, and the hardships were borneuncomplainingly. From time to time we had news of our army encampedon the Jacques Cartier, not only by the legitimate channel of theforaging and reconnoitring parties, but even by means of some whocarried on a business of trafficking between the two camps, thegreed of gain triumphing over war and famine, and even over ordinarypatriotism. It was reported that M. de Levis had said he would eathis Christmas dinner in Quebec under his own flag; but he was notgiven to such empty boasts, that I had ever heard, and the daypassed 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 addressedto your care. It is fortunate that Maxwell governs himself like agentleman in some things, for if he had attempted to send his letterby any underhand means it might have placed you in an unpleasantposition, and even exposed me to suspicion. Listen to this--I wishI 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 letterto pass did it contain all the treason between here and Mozambique.He bids me give it you with his compliments, and assure you thatnot only is it unread, but that should you wish to answer it underthe same restriction as to news, he will enclose your reply thefirst time he has occasion to communicate with
the French general."

  The letter was addressed to "Mistress Lucy Routh, in the care ofMme. 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 itproved. 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 theGeneral Hospital with others of his regiment, and made known thematter to him, and through the general he sent to his father hisacknowledgments 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'scharm; but beyond this the letter awoke in me no farther feeling,and I was surprised to find I could look at his writing and readhis words with so little emotion. The truth is, I was living in anew world; the discovery of my brother's love, the revelation ofMme. de Sarennes's affection towards me, had gone far to fill thehunger and emptiness of my life, and the old spell which had solong dominated every thought and aspiration was no longer paramount.Then, too, the long strain of feverish hope and unrest, thedisappointments and dangers, through which I had passed, had renderedme peculiarly sensible to the charm of the quiet convent life bywhich I was surrounded. Therein I found work into which I threwmyself with ardour, and was encouraged by the Superior towards thatway of peace upon which the convent doors gave entrance. Could Ionce determine to cut myself free from the unrest and struggle ofthe world, I felt that before me opened a life of usefulness whichpromised amends for all suffering and atonement for all error. Mylife had so far been lived for myself alone, and I saw about mewomen who had attained happiness through a complete sacrifice ofself. Could I only be sure I had the strength, was not the samereward held out to me?