French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America

by Evelyn Everett-Green

Book 4: Wolfe.

[Chapter 1]: A Soldier At Home.

He lay upon a couch beneath the shade of a drooping lime tree, where flickering lights and shadows played upon his tall, slight figure and pale, quaint face. There was nothing martial in the aspect of this young man, invalided home from active service on the Continent, where the war was fiercely raging between the European powers. He had a very white skin, and his hair was fair, with a distinct shade of red in it. It was cut short in front, and lightly powdered when the young man was in full dress, and behind it was tied in the queue so universally worn.

He was quite young still, barely thirty years old; yet he had seen years of active service in the army, and had achieved no small distinction for intrepidity and cool daring. He had won the notice already of the man now at the helm of state, whose eyes were anxiously fixed upon any rising soldier of promise, ready to avail himself of the services of such to sustain England's honour and prestige both on land and sea.

James Wolfe was the son of a soldier, and had been brought up to the profession of arms almost as a matter of course. Yet he seemed a man little cut out for the life of the camp; for he suffered from almost chronic ill-health, and was often in sore pain of body even though the indomitable spirit was never quenched within him. His face bore the look of resolution and self mastery which is often to be seen in those who have been through keen physical suffering. There were lines there which told of weary days and nights of pain; but there was an unquenchable light in the eyes that invariably struck those who came into contact with the young officer. He had already learned the secret of imparting to his men the enthusiasm which was kindled in his own breast; and there was not a man in his company but would gladly have laid down his life in his service, if he had been called upon to do so.

Today, however, there was nothing of the soldier and leader of forlorn hope in his aspect. He lay back upon his couch with a dreamy abstraction in his gaze. The gambols of his canine favourites passed unnoticed by him. He had been reading news that stirred him deeply, and he had fallen into a meditation.

The news sheet contained a brief and hasty account of the loss of Fort William Henry, with a hint respecting the massacre which had followed. No particulars were as yet forthcoming. This was but the voice of rumour. But the paragraph, vague as it was, had been sufficient to arouse strange feelings within the young officer. He had let the paper fall now, and was turning things over in his own mind.

One of the articles had said how needful it was becoming for England to awake from her lethargy, and send substantial aid to her colonies, unless she desired to see them annihilated by the aggressions of France. National feeling against that proud foe was beginning to rise high. The Continental war had quickened it, and Wolfe, who had served against the armies of France in many a closely-contested battle, felt his pulses tingling at the recital of her successes against England's infant colonies.

Men were wanted for the service, the paper had said--men of courage and proved valour. We had had too many bunglers already out there; it was now time that men of a different stamp should be forthcoming.

In his ears there seemed beaten the sound of a question and its reply. Where had he heard those words, and when?

"Who will go up to battle against this proud foe?"

"Here am I; send me."

The light leaped into his eyes; his long, thin hands clasped and unclasped themselves as stirring thoughts swept over him. He knew that there was a great struggle impending between England and her French rival upon the other side of the world. Hitherto his battlefields had been in Europe, but a voice from far away seemed to be calling to him in urgent accents. Away in the West, English subjects were being harried and killed, driven like helpless sheep to slaughter. How long was it to continue? Would the mother country be content that her provinces should be first contracted and then slowly strangled by the chains imposed by the boundless ambition of France? Never, never, never! The young officer spoke the words aloud, half raising himself from his couch as he did so.

There was a rising man now at the helm of the state; he had not the full powers that many desired to see. He had to work hand in hand with a colleague of known incapacity. Yet the voice of the nation was beginning to make itself heard. England was growing enraged against a minister under whose rule so many grievous blunders had been committed. Newcastle still retained his position of foremost of the King's advisers, but Pitt now stood at his side; and it was understood that the younger statesman was to take the real command of the ship of state, whilst his elder associate confined himself to those matters in which he could not well do harm.

"If only it had come three years earlier," breathed Wolfe--"before we had suffered such loss and disgrace!"

The young soldier knew that an expedition had been fitted out a few months ago for Louisbourg in Acadia--that French fortress of Cape Breton which alone had been able to resist the English arms. The capture of Louisbourg had been the one thing determined upon by the tardy government for the relief of their colonies in the Western world. It had been surmised that this action on their part would draw away the French troops from the frontier, and thus relieve the colonists from any pressing anxiety; but although there had been little definite news from the fleet so far, it began to be reared that the Admirals had mismanaged matters, and that no blow would be struck this season.

September had come--a hot, sunny, summer-like month in England. But Wolfe had heard something of the rock-bound coasts of Cape Breton, and he was well aware that if the furious equinoctial gales should once threaten the English fleet, no Admiral would be able to attempt an action by sea, or even the landing of the troops.

Young Wolfe had one friend out With the expedition, and from him he had received a letter only a short time ago, telling him of all the delays and procrastinations which were already beginning to render abortive a well-planned scheme. It made his blood boil in his veins to think how the incapacity of those in command doomed the hopes of so many to such bitter disappointment, and lowered the prestige of England in the eyes of the whole civilized world.

"If Pitt could but have a free hand, things would be different!" exclaimed Wolfe again, speaking aloud, as is the fashion of lonely men. "But the King is beginning to value and appreciate him, and the nation is learning confidence. The time will come--yes, the time will come! Heaven send that I live to see the day, and have a hand in the glorious work!"

As he spoke these words he observed a certain excitement amongst the dogs playing around him, and guessed that their quick ears had caught sounds of an arrival of some sort. In a few minutes' time his servant approached him, bearing a letter which he handed to his master, who opened it and cast his eyes over its contents.

"Are the two gentlemen here?" he asked.

"Yes, sir; they asked that the letter might be given to you, and that they might wait until you had read it."

"Then show them out to me here, and bring us coffee," said Wolfe, whose face had put on a look of considerable eagerness and animation; and as the servant retired towards the house, the soldier remained looking after him, as though wistful to catch the first glimpse of the expected guests.

In a few minutes they appeared in the wake of the servant. Both were quietly dressed in sober riding suits; but there the resemblance ended. One of the pair was a very tall man, with fair hair cut short all round his head, and a pair of large blue-grey eyes that had a trick of seeming to look through and beyond the objects upon which they were bent, and a thoroughly English type of feature; whilst his companion was more slightly built, albeit a man of fine proportions, too, with a darker face, more chiselled features, and hair dressed according to the prevailing mode, lightly powdered in front, and tied in a queue behind.

Wolfe rose slowly to his feet, his brow slightly contracting with the effort. Upon his face there was a very attractive smile, and he held out his hand in turn to the two newcomers.

"You are very welcome, gentlemen--more welcome than I can say. I am grateful to my friend Sir Charles for giving me this opportunity of making your acquaintance. It has been my great wish to speak face to face with men who have lived in that great land whither all eyes are now turning. Be seated, I pray you, gentlemen, and tell me which of you is Mr. Julia Dautray, and which Mr. Humphrey Angell."

"My name is Dautray," answered the dark-eyed man. "We have travelled to England together, my friend and I, but have also been in France, to visit some of those there still bearing my name, although my immediate forefathers have lived and died in the lands of the far West. We have met with much kindness in this country, and have some time since accomplished the mission on which we were dispatched. Our thoughts are turning once more towards the land of our birth. Had we not been in France at the time, we would gladly have accompanied the expedition which set sail for Louisbourg not long since."

"I cannot regret that you failed to do so," answered Wolfe, in his winning way, "since it has brought me the pleasure of this visit. I trust, gentlemen, that you will honour me by being my guests for a few days at least. There is very much that I desire to learn about the lands from which you come. My friend Sir Charles speaks as though you were wanderers upon the face of the earth. If that be so, I may hope that you will stay your wanderings meantime, and make my home yours for a while."

"You are very kind, Captain Wolfe," said Julian gratefully; "if it be not trespassing too far upon your hospitality, we should be glad and grateful to accept it."

"The honour will be mine," said Wolfe; "I have long desired to know more of that world beyond the seas. Hitherto I have seen nothing save my own country, and a few of those which lie nearest to it. But I have the feeling within me that the time is coming when I shall be sent farther afield. Men will be needed for the strife which must soon be waged on the far side of the Atlantic, and it may be that I shall be chosen as one of those who will go thither."

"That is what Sir Charles said when he gave us this letter for you," said Julian. "He said that Mr. Pitt had named you once or twice as a rising officer, likely to be chosen for service there. That is why Sir Charles thought that a visit from us would be welcome. I do not know whether we can give you any news which you have not heard already; but we can at least answer such questions as to the country and its life as may be interesting to you, though it is now two years since we sailed from its shores."

Into Wolfe's eyes there had leaped a bright light.

"Spoke Sir Charles such words of me?" he said eagerly. "Has Mr. Pitt named me as likely for this service?"

"So it was told us," answered Julian. "We came to England in the early spring of last year, with letters and urgent appeals to friends in England from their kinfolk beyond the sea. We went from place to place, as our directions were, and saw many men and heard much hot discussion; but it seemed hard to get a hearing in high places, and for a while we thought we had had our journey in vain. Nevertheless they would not let us go. One and another would keep us, hoping to gain introduction to some influential man, in whose ears we could tell our tale. And so matters went on, and we were passed from place to place, always well treated and well cared for. In the spring we went to France, though we were warned of danger, because of the war. But we met with no hurt. Humphrey passed as my servant, and I have French blood in my veins, and can speak the language as one born there. Nor did we go to any large centres, but contented ourselves with the remote spots, where I found kinsfolk of mine own name living still. And we reached England again only two months ago."

"And then?"

"There was more excitement then. The fleet had sailed for Louisbourg; men's hearts were stirred within them. Tales of fresh atrocities along the border had reached home. Anger against France was stirred up by the war. It was then we were brought before Sir Charles Graham, and told our tale to him. He is the friend of Mr. Pitt, and he came back to us many times to learn more of what we had to tell of the difficulties of the provinces, and of the apathy that prevailed there, even though terrible things Were passing daily close by.

"It was he who at last bid us go to you. He said you were his friend, and would make us welcome for his sake and ours. And when he gave us this letter, he told us the words of Mr. Pitt respecting you."

"And have you other news besides?" asked Wolfe eagerly. "When left you London? And is it yet known there whether this rumour of fresh disaster is true? See, there is the Western news sheet; it speaks of a disquieting rumour as to the fall of Fort William Henry, our outpost on Lake George. Have fresh tidings been received? for if that place fall, we are in evil case indeed."

Julian gravely shook his head.

"The rumour is all too true. Had you not heard? A fast-sailing vessel has brought it to Southampton--the evil tidings of disaster and death. The fort held out bravely through a terrible cannonade; but no relief was sent, and the walls were battered down. There was nothing for it but surrender. The garrison obtained honourable terms; but the French either could not or would not restrain their Indian allies. Surrender was followed by a brutal massacre of the hapless soldiers and their wives and children. It is horrible to read the story of the atrocities committed. We have seen Indians at their hideous work. We know, as you in this land never can do, what it is like."

Wolfe's eyes flashed fire.

"A surrendered garrison massacred! and the French stood by and suffered it!"

"The account is confused. Some say they did try without avail; some that they were callous and indifferent; some that they did much to avert the horrors, and saved large numbers of victims out of their clutches. But they did not succeed in stopping an awful loss of life. The pages of history will be stained dark when the story of that day is written!"

"Ay, truly!" cried Humphrey, in his deep, resonant voice, speaking for the first time; "the page of history should be written in characters of blood and fire. I have seen the work of those savage fiends. I have seen, and I shall remember to the last day of my life!"

"Tell me," said Wolfe, looking straight at the stalwart youth, whose lips had slightly drawn themselves back, showing the firm line of the white teeth beneath.

Humphrey had told his tale many times during the past months. He told it to Wolfe that day--told it with a curious graphic power, considering that his words were few, and that his manner was perfectly quiet.

A red flush mounted into Wolfe's face, and died away again. He drew his breath through, his teeth with a slightly whistling sound. With him this was a sign of keen emotion.

"You saw all that?"

"With my own eyes. I am telling no tale of hearsay. And men have tales yet more horrid to tell--tales to which a man may scarce listen for the horror and the shame. This is the way the Indians serve the subjects of the English crown at the bidding of the servants of France!"

Wolfe raised his right hand, and let it slowly drop again.

"May Heaven give to me the grace," he said, in a voice that vibrated with tense feeling, "to go forth to the succour of my countrymen there--to fight and to avenge!"

After that there was silence for a while, and the servant came and brought coffee, and took orders for the entertainment and lodging of the guests. When he had gone Wolfe was calm again, and listened with keen interest to the story they had to tell of their arrival in Pennsylvania, and of the extraordinary apathy of the colonists in the eastern towns, and the difficulty of arousing them to any concerted action with their own countrymen in the neighbouring provinces, even for the common defence.

Wolfe knew something of that, and of the causes at work to bring about such a result. He talked with more comprehension and insight as to the state of infant colonies, partially self-governed and self-dependent, struggling out of leading strings, and intent upon growing to man's estate, than anybody had hitherto done.

"We shall never have a second Canada out there such as France has won--a country wholly dependent upon the one at home, looking always to her for government, help, care, money. No, no; the spirit of those who went forth from England was utterly different. They are English subjects still, but they want to rule themselves after their own way. They will never be helpless and dependent; they will be more like to shake our yoke from off their necks when they arrive at man's estate. But what matter if they do? We shall be brothers, even though the sea roll between them. The parent country has sent them forth, and must protect them till they are able to protect themselves, even as the birds and the beasts of the fields defend their young. After that we shall see. But for my part I prefer that struggling spirit of independence and desire after self-government. It can be carried too far; but it shows life, energy, youth, and strength. If Canada were not bound hand and foot to the throne of the French tyrant, she would be a more formidable foe to tackle than she can show herself now."

"Yet she has done us grievous hurt. We seem able to make no headway against her, in spite of our best efforts."

"Let us see what better efforts we can make then," cried Wolfe, with eager eyes. "Best! why, man, we have done nothing but procrastinate and blunder, till my ears tingle with shame as I read the story! But we are awakening at last, and we have a man to look to who is no blunderer. The tide will turn ere long, you will see; and when it does, may I be there to see and to bear my share!"

Julian looked at the gaunt, prostrate form of the soldier, and said gravely:

"But you are surely in no fit state for military service?"

Wolfe threw back his head with a little gesture of impatience, and then smiled brightly.

"This carcass of mine has been a source of trouble and pain to me from my boyhood, and there come moments when I must needs give it a little rest. But yet I have found that it can carry me through the necessary fatigues with a vigour I had scarcely expected of it. It is being patched up again after a hard campaign; and now that the summer has closed, nothing can be set afoot till the spring comes. By that time I shall be fit for service once more, you will see. I am taking the waters of Bath with sedulous care. They have done much for me as it is. Soon I trust to be hale and sound once more."

"Have you been wounded, sir?"

"Many times, but not seriously; only that everything tells when one is afflicted by such a rickety body as this," and the young officer smiled his peculiarly brilliant smile, which made the chief charm of his pale, unusual face. "I got both a wound and a severe strain in my last campaign, which has bothered me ever since, and still keeps me to my couch the greater part of the day. But rheumatism is my chronic foe; it follows me wherever I go, lying in wait to pounce upon me, and hold me a cripple in its red-hot iron hand. That is the trouble of my life on the march. It is so often all but impossible to get through the day's work, and yet it is wonderful how the foe can be held at bay when some task has to be done whether or not.

"But a truce to such talk! A soldier has other things to think of than aching joints and weary bones. A man can but once die for his country, and that is all I ask to do. That mine will not he a long life I feel a certain assurance. All I ask is the power to serve my country as long as I am able, and to die for her, sword in hand, when the hour has come."

The eyes kindled and the smile flashed forth. Julian and Humphrey looked into the face of the man whom they had heard described as one of the most promising and intrepid young officers of the English army, and felt a thrill of admiration run through them. The frame was so frail and weak and helpless; but the indomitable spirit seemed as though it would be able to bear its master through any and every peril which duty might bid him face.

They had consented to be his guests for a few days; but it had not occurred to them that this visit would be prolonged to any great length, and yet thus it came about.

Colonel Wolfe and his wife, the mother of whom the young soldier often spoke in tender and loving terms, were detained from rejoining their son, as they had purposed doing before the winter came. Colonel Wolfe had a property of his own in Kent, and his presence was wanted there. The son was compelled to remain in the neighbourhood of Bath for the sake of his shattered health. They had intended all spending the winter there together in the pleasant house they had taken; but this soon became impossible, and it was then that Wolfe said to his new friends, with that quaint look of appeal in his eyes which they had come to know by this time:

"Could you two be persuaded to take pity upon a capricious and whimsical sick man, and be his companions through the winter months? Then with the spring, when we know what is to be done for the succour of our comrades in the West, we will make shift to go forth to their assistance. If you will stay with me till then, I will promise you shall not lack fitting equipment to follow the army when it sails hence."

There was nothing the two companions desired more by that time than to remain with Wolfe, the charm of whose personality had by that time quite fascinated them. They felt almost like brothers already. It was upon Humphrey's strong arm that Wolfe would take his daily walk into the town for the needful baths or water drinkings. It was Julian who read to him the news of the day, and they all discussed it eagerly together. Moreover, he saw to the drilling and training of these two fine men with the keenest interest and enthusiasm. They had the making in them of excellent soldiers, and showed an aptitude which delighted him for all sorts of exercises and feats of arms.

The war fever permeated the whole country by that time, and training and drilling were going on all around. It was easy for the travellers to pick up all that was needful to them of comprehension as to military terms and commands. Hours were spent by themselves and Wolfe over books and maps in the library, whilst he fought over again with them campaign after campaign--those where he had served, and those before his time with which he had close acquaintance; and they entered more and more into the spirit of martial exercise, learning to comprehend military tactics and the art of war as they had never done before.

Meantime the news from the Western world was all bad. The attempt upon Louisbourg had been abortive, owing to the tardiness of the English Admiral, of London the Governor out there, and the early storms which had obliged the fleet to retire even when it had mustered for the attack.

"It is shameful!" cried Wolfe with flashing eyes, as the news was made known; "England will become the laughingstock of the whole world! Fort Oswego lost, William Henry lost, and its garrison massacred! Louisbourg left to the French, without a blow being struck! Shame upon us! shame upon us! We should blush for our tardy procrastination. But mark my word, this will be the last such blunder! Pitt will take the reins in his own grasp. We shall see a change now."

"I trust so," said Humphrey grimly; "it is time indeed. I know what these attacks against Louisbourg will mean for those along the frontier--death, disaster, more Indian raids, less power of protection. The Governor will draw off the levies which might come to their assistance for the work at Louisbourg. The French will hound on the Indians to ravage more and more. We shall hear fresh tales of horror there before the end comes."

"Which we will avenge!" spoke Wolfe, between his shut teeth. "It shall not always be said of England that she slept whilst her subjects died!"

With the turn of the year active preparations began to be discussed, and Wolfe to receive letters from headquarters. All was now excitement in that household, for there was no doubt that England's great minister was going to take active measures, and that the day of tardy blundering was to be brought to an end.

Wolfe was found one day in a state of keen excitement.

"I have heard from Mr. Pitt myself!" he cried, waving the paper over his head. "He has taken the great resolve, not only to check the aggressions of France upon the border, but to sweep her out from the Western world, till she can find no place for herself there! That is the spirit I delight in; that is the task I long to aid in; that is the one and only thing to do. Leave her neither root nor branch in the world of the West! If we do, she will be a thorn in our side, a upas tree poisoning the air. Let Canada be ours once for all, and we have no more to fear!"

Humphrey and Julian exchanged glances of amaze. Such a scheme as this seemed to smack of madness.

"You think it cannot be done, my friends? England has done greater feats before."

"But there is Quebec," said Julian gravely; "I have heard that it is a fortress absolutely impregnable. And Quebec is the key of Canada."

"I know it," answered Wolfe, with a light in his eyes, "I know it well. I have seen drawings; I have heard descriptions of it. That it will be a nut hard to crack I do not doubt. But yet--but yet--ah, well, we may not boast of what we will do in the future. Let it suffice us first to take Louisbourg from the foe. But that once done, I shall know no rest, day or night, till I stand as victor at the walls of Quebec!"

[Chapter 2]: Louisbourg.

"Do not leave Gabarus Bay until I have effected a landing!"

So spoke Admiral Boscawen; and when the word was known, a cheer ran through the squadron from end to end.

Brigadier Wolfe had struggled up upon deck, looking white and ghostlike, for he had suffered much during the voyage; but when that word reached him, the fire leaped into his eyes, and he turned an exultant look upon his friends, and exclaimed:

"That is an excellent good word; that is the spirit which inspires victory!"

Yet it was no light thing which was to be attempted, as no one knew better than Wolfe himself; for he had been out in a boat upon the previous day with Major General Amherst and his comrade Brigadier Lawrence, reconnoitring the shore all along the bay, and they had seen how strongly it was commanded by French batteries, and how difficult it would be to land any body of troops there.

To their right, as they looked shorewards, stood the town and grim fortress of Louisbourg, boldly and commandingly placed upon the rocky promontory which protects one side of the harbour, running out, as it were, to meet another promontory, the extremity of which is called Lighthouse Point. These two promontories almost enclose the harbour of Louisbourg; and midway between them is Goat Island, upon which, in the days of warfare of which we are telling, a strong battery was placed, so that no enemy's ship could enter the harbour without being subjected to a murderous crossfire, enough to disable and sink it.

Within the harbour were a number of French ships, which, in spite of a feeble attempt at blockade earlier in the year by some English and American vessels, had succeeded in making their way thither with an ample supply of provisions for the garrison.

To force an entrance into the harbour was manifestly impossible at the present juncture of affairs. The only hope lay in effecting a landing in the larger bay outside, where lay the English fleet; and the shore had been reconnoitred the previous day with a view of ascertaining the chances of this.

The report had not been encouraging. The French batteries were well placed, and were well furnished with cannon. It would be difficult enough to land. It would be yet more difficult to approach the citadel itself; but the experienced eyes of Wolfe and others saw that the only hope lay in an attack from the landward side. The dangerous craggy shore was its best protection. On land there were ridges of high ground from which it might be stormed, if only guns could be carried up. That would be a task of no small danger and difficulty; but courage and resolution might win the day; and Amherst was a commander of a different stamp from the hesitating Abercromby, who was at that very time mustering his troops with a view to the attack upon Ticonderoga.

"It is a fine fortress," said Wolfe to Julian, as they stood surveying the place from the raised deck of the vessel. "You cannot see much from here; the distance is too great. But they have batteries well posted on every height all along the bay; and as for the fortress and citadel, I have seldom seen such workmanship. Its bastions, ramparts, and glacis are a marvel of engineering. It may well be called the Dunkirk of the Western world. It will be a hard nut to crack; but I never believe there is a fortress which English valour cannot suffice to take!"

The resolution to land the troops once made, arrangements were speedily set in order. There were three places along the bay where it might he possible to effect a landing--White Point, Flat Point, and Freshwater Cove--all on the west of the town. To the east there was an inlet where it might be possible to land troops, though perilously near the guns of the citadel. It was resolved to make a feint here, and to send parties to each of the three other points, so as to divide and distract the attention of the enemy. Wolfe was to take command of the landing at Freshwater Cove, which was the spot where Amherst most desired to make his first stand, and here the most determined attempt was to be made. The Commander came and conferred with his Brigadier as to the best method of procedure, and left him full powers of command when the moment should come.

Julian and Humphrey were with Wolfe, and had been his companions and best friends upon the voyage out. They had both obtained commissions, partly through the influence of the Brigadier; and were eager to see warfare. Julian had been Wolfe's nurse and attendant during the voyage, and the bond which now united them was a strong and tender one. Wolfe bad suffered both from seasickness and from a renewal of the former strain, and looked even now but little fit for the enterprise upon which he was bound; but no physical weakness had ever yet hindered him in the moment of peril from doing his duty, and his eyes flashed with the old fire, as he spoke of what was about to take place.

"Let us but once gain possession of that battery," he cried, pointing to the guns frowning grimly over Freshwater Cove, "and turn the guns against their present masters, and we shall have taken the first step. Once let us get foot upon this shore, and it will take more than the cannonade of the Frenchmen to get us off again."

Eagerly did the fleet await the moment of attack; but their patience was rather severely tried. Gale first and then heavy fog, with a tremendous swell at sea, detained them long at their anchorage, and one good ship struck upon a rock, and was in considerable danger for a while.

Wolfe suffered much during those days; but his spirit was as unquenchable as ever, and as soon as the stormy sea had gone down a little, was eager for the enterprise.

"Let us but set foot ashore, and I shall be a new man!" he cried. "I weary of the everlasting heaving of the sea; but upon shore, with my sword in my hand, there I am at home!"

The sea grew calm. There was still a heavy swell, and the waves broke in snowy surf upon the beach; but the attempt had become practicable, and the word was given overnight for a start at daybreak. The men were told off into light boats, such as could be taken close inshore; whilst the frigates were to approach the various points of real or feigned attack, and open a heavy cannonade upon the French batteries.

Julian and Humphrey found themselves in boats alongside each other. Humphrey was an Ensign, whilst Julian had been made a Lieutenant. They belonged to the flotilla commanded by Wolfe, and were directing some of the boats which were upon the right extremity of the little fleet.

The hearts of the men were beating high with excitement and the anticipation of stern work before them. The guns looked grimly forth from the heights above the shore. All was yet silent as death; still it was impossible to think that the French were ignorant of the concerted movement about to be made against them.

A roar from the shore, behind and to their right, told them that already the battle had begun in other quarters. The sailors set their teeth and rowed their hardest. The boats shot through the great green waves.

Suddenly the smoke puffed out from the batteries in front. There was a flash of fire, and in a few seconds a dull roar, with strange, screaming noises interspersed. The water became lashed by a storm of shot, and shrieks of human agony mingled with the noise of the battle. It was a deadly fire which fell hot around the devoted little fleet; but Humphrey and Julian, away to the right, were a little out of range, and slightly protected by a craggy ridge. No man of their company had been killed; but they saw that along the line of boats terrible havoc was being wrought.

They saw Wolfe's tall, thin figure standing up and making signs. He was waving his hand to them now, and Humphrey exclaimed in his keen excitement:

"We are to land behind the crag and rush the guns!"

In a moment the half-dozen or more boats of this little detachment were making for the shore as hard as the rowers' arms could take them. It was hard work to land amongst the breakers, which were dashing into snowy surf along the beach; but perhaps the surf hid them from their enemies a little, for they were not hindered by any storm of shot or shell. They landed on the beach, formed into a compact body, and headed by Major Scott and some bold Highland soldiers, they dashed up the slope towards the battery.

But now they were in the midst of a hail of bullets. It seemed to Humphrey as though hell's mouth had opened. But there was no thought of fear in his heart. The battle fury had come upon him. He sprang within the battery and flung himself upon the gunners. Others followed his example. There was a tremendous hand-to-hand fight-- French, Indians, English, Scotch, all in one struggling melee; and then above the tumult Wolfe's clarion voice ringing out, cheering on his men, uttering concise words of command; and then a sense of release from the suffocating pressure, a consciousness that the enemy was giving way, was flying, was abandoning the position; a loud English cheer, and a yell from the Highlanders, the sound of flying footsteps, pursuers and pursued; and Humphrey found himself leaning against a gun, giddy and blind and bewildered, scarcely knowing whether he were alive or dead, till a hand was laid upon his shoulder, and a familiar voice said in his ear:

"Well done, Ensign Angell. They tell me that we owe our victorious rush today to your blunder!"

"My blunder?"

"Yes; you mistook my signal. I was ordering a retreat. It would not have been possible to land the men under that deadly fire. I could not see, from my position, the little shelter of the crag. I had signalled to draw out of the range of the guns. But your mistake has won us the day."

Humphrey, half ashamed, half exultant, was too breathless to reply; Julian came hastening up; and Wolfe hurried away to see to the landing of the guns and stores, now that the enemy had made a full retreat upon the fortress.

"You are not wounded, Humphrey?"

"I think not. I have only had all the breath knocked out of me; and the guns seem to stun one. Have they really left us in possession of the battery? And does not Wolfe say that, when once we get a footing on the shore, we will not leave till Louisbourg is ours?"

Triumph filled the hearts alike of soldiers and sailors. All day long they worked waist deep in the surf, getting ashore such things as were most needed, intrenching themselves behind the battery, clearing the ground, making a road up from the beach, and pitching their tents.

At. night a cheer went up from their weary throats, for they saw red tongues of flame shooting up, and soon it was known beyond a doubt that the French had fired one of their batteries, which they had felt obliged to abandon; and this showed that they had no intention of attacking the bold storming party which had established itself at the Cove.

At sea the guns roared and flashed all day and all night. The air was full of sounds of battle. But the wearied soldiers slept in their tents, and by day worked might and main at the task of making good their position. They extended the line of their camp, they built redoubts and blockhouses, they routed skirmishing parties of Indians and Acadians hiding in the woods and spying upon them, and they strengthened their position day by day, till it became too strong a one for the enemy to dare to approach.

Every day the men toiled at their task, cheered by items of news from the shore. The battery on Goat Island was silenced, after many days of hot fire from the English frigates. A French vessel had fired in the harbour, and had been burned to the water's edge. The garrison had sent a frigate with dispatches pressing for aid to their governor in Canada. The frigate and dispatches fell into the hands of the English, and much valuable information was gleaned therefrom.

And day by day the camp stretched out in a semicircle behind the town. It was a difficult task to construct it; for a marsh lay before them, and the road could only be made at the cost of tremendous labour, and often the fire of the enemy disturbed the men at their work.

Wolfe was the life and soul of the camp all through this piece of arduous work. If he could not handle pick and shovel like some, his quick eye always saw the best course to pursue, and his keen insight was invaluable in the direction of operations. Ill or well, he was with and amongst his men every day and all day long, the friend of each and every one, noticing each man's work, giving praise to industry and skill, cheering, encouraging, inspiring. Not a soldier but felt that the young officer was his personal friend; not a man but would most willingly and gladly have borne for him some of that physical suffering which at times was written all too clearly in his wasted face.

"Nay, it is nothing," he would say to his companions, when they strove to make him spare himself; "I am happier amongst you all. I can always get through the day's work somehow. In my tent I brood and rebel against this crazy carcass of mine; but out here, in the stir and the strife, I can go nigh to forget it."

But Wolfe was soon to have a task set him quite to his liking. He came to his quarters one day with eager, shining eyes; and so soon as he saw him, Julian knew that he had news to tell.

"The batteries upon Lighthouse Point are next to be silenced. We must gain the command of the harbour for our ships. If we can once do that, the day will be ours. I am told off to this task, with twelve hundred men. You and Humphrey are to go with me. We must march right round the town, under cover of night, taking our guns with us. By daybreak we will have them planted behind the French battery; by night, if all goes well, we shall have gained possession of it."

The troops were all drawn up in order for the night march, full of hopeful anticipation. They had that kind of confidence in Wolfe which the commander inspires who is not made but born. Humphrey, whose skill in finding his way in the dark, and whose powers as a guide had been tested before now, was sent on in advance with a handful of men, to give warning of any impending peril to be passed or encountered. He had the untiring energy of a son of the forest, and the instinct which told him of the proximity of the foe before he saw him.

But the march was uneventful in that way. The French had fallen back upon the town. Their fears now were for the very fortress itself, that fortress which they had so proudly boasted was impregnable alike by land and sea! Before the dawn of the morning Humphrey came back to the main body, seeking speech with Wolfe.

"They have abandoned their battery on Lighthouse Point. It is ours without striking a blow. They have spiked their guns and gone! We have only to take possession, mount our guns, and the command of the harbour is ours!"

A shout of triumph went up from the men as this fact became known. Gaily did they push on over the broken country, doing what they could in passing to level the way for the transport of the cannon in the rear. By dawn of day, they were full in sight of their destination, and saw indeed that it was deserted, and only awaited their taking possession. With shouts and cheers they dragged up their guns and set them in position. They fired a salute to tell their friends that all was well, and sent a few shots flying amongst the French ships in the harbour, to the no small consternation of the town.

But Wolfe could not be idle. The task set him had been accomplished without his having to strike a blow.

"We must unite our line, and silence some of those batteries that protect the town on the land side," he said to his men. "The guns and the gunners, with a sufficient force for their protection, will remain here. We have sterner work to do elsewhere; and whilst we are pushing our lines nearer and nearer, I would I knew how they are feeling within the walls of the town."

"Let me be the one to find that out and report," said Julian eagerly.

"You, man! and how?"

"Let me try to make my way within the lines. We have French prisoners; let me borrow the uniform of one. I can speak French as easily as though it were my mother tongue, which, in sooth, perhaps it is; for I might as well call myself French as English, although I have always loved the English and cast in my lot with them. No sentry can know the face of every soldier in the fortress. Let me see if I cannot get within the walls, and bring you word again of what is passing there!"

Wolfe stroked his face thoughtfully.

"It is a bold scheme, and I have a mind to take you at your word; but I would not have you run into too great peril."

"I scarce think that I shall do so. I will have a care. In truth, I should well enough like to see within those solid walls. It is a wonderful fortress this. It might be good for us to know its strength or its weakness, if weakness it has. I would but remain a couple of nights, and then return and bring you word again."

"I should like to hear the report right well," answered Wolfe. "I only wish I could accompany you myself."

"That would never do. Yours is too valuable a life to risk; mine is worth but little to any man save myself."

"I fear rather that I should be but a clog upon your movements," answered Wolfe; "and no man would take me for a Frenchman, even though I can speak the tongue indifferently well. Nor would Amherst suffer me to make the attempt. We are all under obedience to our superiors. But I will suffer you to go, if you think the risk not too great. But have a care of yourself, Julian, have a care. You have become a friend to me that I could ill spare. If aught of harm befell you, the campaign would be clouded to me, even though crowned with victory."

Julian pressed the hand he held, and for a moment there was silence between the pair. Wolfe looked out before him, and said musingly:

"Does it never seem strange to you, Julian, the thought that our trade is one which makes us look upon the slaughter of our foes as the thing most to be desired, whilst we have that in our hearts which causes us to hate the very thought of suffering and death, either for ourselves or for others; and when we see our foes wounded and left upon the field of battle, we give them the care and tending that we give our own men, and seek in every way to allay their pain and bring them help and comfort?"

"Yes, truly; war is full of strange paradoxes," answered Julian thoughtfully. "Sometimes I think that war, like all other ills, comes to us as a part of the curse which sin has brought into the world. We cannot get away from it yet. There be times when it is right to fight--when to sit with folded hands would be a grievous and a cowardly action on the part of a nation. Yet we know that it is God's will that we should love our brethren, and we know that He loves all. So when we see them helpless and suffering, we know that we are right to tend and care for them, and that to do otherwise would be a sin in His sight. And we know, too, that the day will come when wars will cease, when Christ will come and take the power and rule, and when we shall see Him in His glory, and the kingdoms of this world will become the kingdom of our God and of His Christ."

Deep silence fell upon them both, and then Wolfe spoke gently.

"That would, indeed, be a glorious day! though I, a soldier trained to arms, say it. But I fear me I shall never live to see it."

Julian was silent awhile, and then said slowly:

"We cannot tell. Of that day and hour knoweth no man. All we know is that it will come, and will come suddenly. I have lived amongst those who looked to see it from day to day. They had been waiting and watching for the Lord's coming through hard upon a century, they and their fathers before them. The hope was beginning to fade and die out. Priests had come amongst them who bid them think of other things, and look no farther than the sacrifice of the Mass, daily offered before their eyes. And yet I used to feel that the other was the fuller, more glorious hope. I think I shall cherish it always."

"I would were I you," answered Wolfe in a low voice. "I think it is that which has made you different from other men. I think that if I were to be dying, Julian, I should like to hold your hand in mine and feel that you were near."

Then the two friends pressed each other by the hand, and walked back to the camp. As Julian had said, there were many French prisoners there, brought in from time to time after skirmishes. They were treated exactly the same as the English wounded, and Wolfe made a point of visiting them daily, talking to them in their own tongue, and promising them a speedy exchange when any negotiation should be opened with the town. Julian, too, went much amongst them, able to win their confidence very easily, since he seemed to them almost like a brother. It was quite an easy thing for him to disguise himself in the white uniform of a French soldier, and to creep, under cover of the darkness, closer and closer to the wall of the town.

It so chanced that he could not have chosen a better night for his enterprise. The booming of guns across the harbour and from the batteries behind had now become constant, and attracted little notice from sentries or soldiers beyond range. But just as darkness began to fall, a shell from Wolfe's newly-planted battery fell upon one of the French ships in the harbour, and set her on fire. The glare rose in the sky, and suddenly there was the sound of an explosion, sparks rose in dense clouds into the air, and the ship plunged like a wild creature in terror, broke from her moorings, and drifted alongside a sister ship. The flames spread to her rigging, and in a few minutes both were ablaze; and before the affrighted and bewildered crews could do anything to prevent it, a third vessel had become involved in the conflagration, and the town was illumined by the pillars of flame which shot up from the still waters of the harbour.

All was confusion and dismay, for the French had no ships to spare. Four had been deliberately sunk in the harbour's mouth to prevent the entrance of the English, and here were three all in a blaze. The soldiers and inhabitants rushed madly down to the water's edge to seek to stay the conflagration, and Julian, seizing his opportunity, rushed through the gateway with a small detachment of men from one of the outside batteries, and found himself within the town without having been so much as challenged.

Down to the water's edge with the rest he rushed, shouting and gesticulating with the best of them. His uniform prevented his being even so much as looked at. To all appearance he was a French soldier. He did not hesitate to mingle in the crowd, or avoid conversation with any. Very soon he found he was working with the rest in the hopeless endeavour to save the doomed vessels; and he was helpful in getting off some of the half-stifled sailors, dashing upon deck quite a number of times, and bringing back in his strong arms the helpless men who had been overpowered by the flames before they could make their escape.

It was work which Julian loved; for saving life was more to his taste than killing. He toiled on, cheering up his comrades, till all that could be saved were placed upon shore; and when he stepped at last upon the quay after the last voyage to the burning ships, he found himself confronted by a fine soldierly man, whose dress and manner bespoke him a personage of some importance.

"Well done, my good fellow," he said approvingly; "I shall not forget your gallantry tonight. You doubtless belong to one of the vessels, since I have no knowledge of your face. You had better come up to the citadel, where you shall receive refreshment and a place to rest in. We want all the soldiers we can get for the defence of the town, since we are in evil case between foes on land and foes on the sea."

Julian saluted, and spoke a few words of thanks, and the crowd bore him towards the citadel.

"Who was it that spoke to me?" he asked of his next neighbour; and the man replied with a laugh:

"Why, Governor Drucour to be sure! Are you blind with the smoke, my friend? A very gallant governor and soldier he is, as you should know. And as for Madame, his wife--ah, well, you must see her to understand!"

Nor was Julian long in understanding something of what was meant by this unfinished sentence; for he and his companions had not been long seated at table, with a good meal before them, when the door opened, and a tall, elegant lady entered the room, leaning on the arm of the Governor, and instantly the whole company rose, whilst a shout went up:

"Long live the Governor! Long live Madame his wife! Long live the King!"

The lady came in, and motioned to the company to be seated. She walked up and down amongst them, speaking brave words of thanks and cheer; and halting beside Julian, she made him quite a little special speech, telling him how she had heard that he had been the foremost of all in seeking to save the lives of those who might otherwise have perished in the flames.

No questions were asked of him, for the excitement was still strong, and it was taken for granted that he had come off one of the burning ships. The men were all talking together, with the volubility of their race, and Julian took just enough share in the conversation to avoid suspicion.

Besides, why should he be suspected? He looked in every respect a Frenchman. And had he not risked his life more than once that night to save those left on board the vessels?

The next morning he was able to take an excellent view of the citadel and town. He was amazed at the strength of the place. In one sense of the word it was well nigh impregnable. From the water it could scarcely be touched; but the ridges above, now in the possession of the English, were a source of weakness and peril; and now that the enemy was pushing nearer and nearer, under cover of their own guns, it was plain that the position was becoming one of grave peril. A very little more and the English would be able to shell the whole town and fortress from the land side; and though the soldiers within the citadel were full of hope and confidence, the townsfolk were becoming more and more alarmed, and spoke openly together of the probable fall of the place.

They told Julian much that he desired to know, as did also the soldiers within the citadel. He was listening to them, when a sudden cry reached them, and a cheer went up, mingled with cries of "Vive Madame! vive Madame le General!"

Julian looked round, and saw that Madame Drucour had come out upon the ramparts, and was preparing with her own hands to fire off one of the great guns. This she did amid the applause of the soldiers, and the man standing beside Julian said with enthusiasm:

"Madame comes here every day, no matter the weather or the firing, and walks round the ramparts, and fires off one or more of the guns, to keep us in heart. She is a brave lady. If all soldiers and townsfolk had her spirit, there would be no talk of surrendering Louisbourg."

[Chapter 3: Victory.]

"Julian! Is that you I see? Truly I had begun to fear that some misfortune had befallen you. So you have been within the walls of the town, and have returned safe and sound? Your face is a very welcome one, my friend!"

Wolfe stretched out his hand, which was eagerly grasped by Julian. It was a still, close evening, and the sullen booming of the guns continued without abatement. So used had the ears of besiegers and besieged grown to that sound of menace, that it was hardly heeded more than the roar of the surf upon the shore.

Wolfe was lying in his tent, looking white and worn, as was generally the case after the labours of the day were ended. His indomitable spirit bore him gallantly through the working hours of the long, hot days; but night found him exhausted, and often too suffering to sleep. Julian had been his best companion at such times as these, and he had missed him a good deal these past days.

"I have been within the city and citadel, and have returned safe and sound," answered Julian, throwing off the cloak he wore over his white French uniform. "It cannot be long before the place surrenders. Our guns are doing fearful havoc. Fires break out, as you must see, continually. The King's Bastion was almost all consumed yesterday. The hearts of the townspeople are growing faint within them. The officers and soldiers are bold, and show a cheerful front; but they begin to know that sooner or later they will have to throw up the game."

Wolfe's eyes kindled with martial joy.

"It is the turn of the tide, the turn of the tide!" he exclaimed, his whole face instinct with anticipation of triumph. "The English flag has been trailed in the dust, humiliated, vanquished; but she shall wave aloft over yon proud fortress, which men have called impregnable. And if there, why not over Quebec itself?"

Then, whilst he made Julian refresh himself with food and drink, he bid him tell all the story of his visit to Louisbourg: how he had obtained entrance, what he had seen and heard, and what opinion he now held as to the position of the foe and the chances of the siege.

Wolfe was much delighted with the anecdotes related of the courage and kindness of Madame Drucour.

"The Commander shall hear of that. Brave lady! I would not that she should suffer needless hurt. Tell me, Julian, are they in need of food or wine or any such thing within the walls? I would gladly send to the brave Madame some token of goodwill and appreciation."

"They are well victualled; but I heard Madame say that the sick were suffering somewhat from scurvy, and that she wished she had fruit to distribute amongst them. Some of them have come off the ships, where the illness is frequent. Madame Drucour visits the sick constantly, and dresses their wounds with her own hands when the surgeons are busy. And, indeed, they need all the help they can get, for the sick and wounded increase upon their hands daily."

"They shall have fruit!" cried Wolfe eagerly. "We had a ship arrive to help the squadron, and she came laden with pines from the West Indies. We will send in a quantity to Madame Drucour under a flag of truce. We may be forced to fight our fellow men, but we need not forget that they are of the same flesh and blood as ourselves. An honourable foe is second only to a friend."

"Madame will be grateful for any such act of courtesy, I am sure," replied Julian. "She is a noble lady--gracious, beautiful, and brave. She spoke good words to me, little knowing who I was. It made me feel something treacherous to accept her courtesies, knowing myself for a spy. But yet I have not hurt them by my spying; I can see that the defence cannot long be maintained by those within the walls. Beyond that I have little to say. The fires by day and night tell of the destruction and havoc our guns are making. It needs no spy to report that."

General Amherst was keenly interested next day in hearing the story Julian had to tell, and was ready and eager to send a present of fruit and other dainties for the sick to Madame Drucour. Under cover of a flag of truce the convoy was dispatched, and for half a day the guns on both sides ceased firing.

In addition to the fruit the General sent a very polite letter to the lady, expressing his regret for the annoyance and anxiety she must be experiencing, and sending a number of small billets and messages from wounded Frenchmen in their hands to their friends in the city.

The messengers returned bearing with them a basket and a note. The basket contained some bottles of choice wine for the General's table, and the letter, written by Madame Drucour herself, was couched in terms of courtesy and gratitude. She declared that the fruit for the sick was just the very thing she had been most desiring, and wondered what bird of the air had whispered the message into the ear of the noble English officer. As for the war itself, deplorable as it must always be, the knowledge that they were fighting against a generous and worthy foe could not but be a source of happiness; and, in conclusion, the lady added that they had within the walls of Louisbourg a surgeon of uncommon skill with gunshot wounds, and that his services should always be at the command of any English officer who might desire them.

"That is like her!" exclaimed Julian to Wolfe, when the terms of the letter were made known. "She is a very noble and gracious lady, and I trust and hope no hurt will come to her. But she exposes herself to many perils in the hope of cheering and heartening up the men. They all fight better for the knowledge that she is near them; and she goes her daily rounds of the ramparts, be the firing ever so hot!"

The cannon were roaring again now from both lines of batteries. The doomed fortress was holding out gallantly, and had as yet given no sign of surrender.

Wolfe was hard at work, day after day, drawing his lines closer and closer. His military genius showed itself in every disposition of his lines and batteries. He saw at a glance exactly what should be done, and set to work to do it in the best possible way.

"How many ships have they in the harbour?" he asked of Julian, two days after his return from the town.

"Only two of any size--the Bienfaisant and the Prudent. The rest have been sunk or destroyed."

"I think we had better make an end of those two," said Wolfe thoughtfully.

"It might not be a task of great difficulty, if it could be done secretly," said Julian. "The soldiers are mostly on land. They need them more in the citadel than on board; and they think the ships are safe, lying as they do under their own batteries. If we could get a dull or foggy night, we might make a dash at them. We can enter the harbour now that the Island battery is silenced and the frigate Arethuse gone. They say the sailors on board the ships are longing for a task. They would rejoice to accomplish something of that sort."

"Get me ready a boat, and you and Humphrey row me out to our fleet yonder," said Wolfe, looking out over the wide expanse of blue beyond the harbour. "I will speak of this with the Admiral, and see what he thinks of the undertaking."

They rowed him out from Flat Point to the flagship, and put him on board. It was a fine sight to see the great battleships anchored in the bay, ready to take their part in the struggle at a word of command. But the French fleet had done little or nothing to harass them. They were complete masters of the deep. Even the ships in the harbour had not ventured out, and now only two of them remained.

"There will be none tomorrow, if this sea mist comes down," said Wolfe, with a little grim smile, as he entered the boat again. "Row me to the harbour's mouth; I would take a look for myself at the position of the vessels."

The sun was shining brilliantly upon land, but over the sea there was a little haze, which seemed disposed to increase. It had been so for two or three days, the fog coming thicker at night. Wolfe looked keenly about him as he reached the mouth of the harbour. He did not attempt to enter it, but sat looking before him with intent, critical gaze.

"I see," he remarked, after a pause. "Now row me once more to the flagship, and so back. The thing can be done."

Promptitude was one of Wolfe's characteristics; he never let grass grow under his feet. If the thing was to be done, let it be done at once; and the British tar is never a laggard when there is fighting or adventure to be had!

Julian and Humphrey volunteered for the service. Humphrey was a favourite with the sailors, having been employed almost constantly in carrying messages to and from the fleet, or in helping to land transports. He was as expert now in the management of a boat as the best of the jack tars, and was eager to take part in the daring enterprise which was to be carried out that night.

Six hundred sailors, collected from different vessels, were to be told off for the task. They set to work with hearty goodwill, muffling their oars, and preparing for their noiseless advance into the harbour. The guns would roar ceaselessly overhead. That would do much to drown any sound from the water. Still, care and caution would have to be exercised; for the batteries of the fortress commanded the harbour, and the ships lay beneath their protecting guns. If the little flotilla betrayed its approach by any unguarded sound, it might easily be annihilated before ever it could approach its goal. So that the task set the hardy sailors was not without its distinct element of peril, which was perhaps its chiefest attraction.

The shades of night gathered slowly over land and sea. It seemed to Humphrey and some of those waiting in the boats as though night had never fallen so slowly before. But their eyes were gladdened by the sight of the soft fog wreaths which crept over the water as the dusk fell, lying upon it like a soft blanket, and blotting out the distance as much as the darkness could do.

It was not a heavy fog. The sailors were in no danger of losing their way as they rowed, first for the harbour mouth, and then for the two French warships at anchor beneath the batteries. But it was thick enough to hide their approach from those on land. It was not probable that even the crews of the vessels would be aware of their close proximity till the word to board was given. Unless some accidental and unguarded sound betrayed their advance, they might in all likelihood carry all before them by a surprise movement.

Julian was in the same boat as the officer in command of the expedition. His intimate knowledge of the position of the war vessels would be of use in this murk and darkness. Humphrey took an oar in the same boat; and the little fleet got together, and commenced its silent voyage just as the clocks of the fortress boomed out the midnight hour.

It was a strange, ghostly voyage. There was a moon in the sky overhead, and the outlines of the hills and batteries, and even of the fortress itself, could be distinguished wherever the ground rose high enough; but wreaths of white vapour lay lazily along the water, or seemed to curl slowly upwards like smoke from some fire, and the boats rowed along in the encircling mist, only able to gain glimpses from time to time of the moonlit world as a puff of wind drove the vapour away from their path and gave them a transitory outlook upon their surroundings.

The dull roar of the guns filled the air. Sometimes the batteries were silent at night; but Wolfe kept things alive on this occasion, in order to cover the approach of the boarding party. Now the mouth of the harbour was reached, and the little fleet gathered itself more compactly together, and the muffling of the oars was carefully looked to. Directions as to the order to be observed had been given before, and the boats fell into their appointed position with quickness and accuracy.

Julian took the helm of the leading boat, and steered it across the harbour towards the anchored vessels. He knew exactly where and how they lay. And soon the little flotilla was lying compactly together, its presence all unsuspected, within a cable's length of the two battleships.

Now the time for concealment was over. The men seized their arms in readiness. The boats dashed through the water at full speed. The next moment hundreds of hardy British sailors were swarming up the sides of the French vessels, uttering cheers and shouts of triumph the while.

Humphrey and Julian were amongst the first to spring upon the deck of the Bienfaisant. The startled crew were just rushing up from below, having been made aware of the peril only a few seconds earlier. Some of them were but half dressed; few of them knew what it was that was happening. They found themselves confronted by English sailors with dirk and musket. Sharp firing, shouts, curses, cries, made the night hideous for a few minutes, and then a ringing voice called out in French:

"Surrender the vessels, and your lives shall be spared."

It was Julian who cried these words at the command of the officer, and there was no resistance possible for the overpowered crew. The soldiers were on shore within the fort. They were but a handful of men in comparison with their English assailants. It was impossible to dispute possession.

"Take to your boats and go ashore, and you shall not be molested," was the next cry; and the men were forced to obey, the fighting having lasted only a very brief space: for it was evident from the first that the English were masters, and needless carnage was not desired by them.

Nevertheless the peril to the English sailors was by no means over yet. The guns in the battery now opened fire upon the fleet of boats, and a hailstorm of shot and shell raged round them; so that the French sailors dared not leave the vessel, but crowded below out of the hot fire, preferring to trust to the tender mercies of their captors rather than to the guns of their countrymen.

"Tow her away under one of our own batteries," was the order, given as coolly as though this leaden rain were nothing but a summer shower.

Humphrey sprang to the side, and cut the cable which anchored her to her moorings. Just at that moment a glow of light through the fog fell across the deck, and looking up he saw a pillar of flame rising from the water close at hand, and casting strange lights and shadows upon the shifting mists which enwrapped them.

"They have fired the Prudent!" exclaimed Julian. "Now we shall have light for our task; but we shall be a better target for the enemy's fire. We must lose no time. Cut loose the second cable; we should be moving. See that the boats are all ready to tow us along. What a grand sight that burning ship is!

"Ah, I see now. She is aground with the ebb tide. They could not move her, so they have fired her instead. There are her boats rowing for shore with her crew in them!"

It was a strange, grand sight, watching the flames enwrap the doomed vessel from stem to stern, till she was one sheet of rosy light. Even the guns from shore had ceased to fire for a brief space, as though the gunners were watching the weird spectacle of the illuminated fog, or were perhaps afraid lest their fire should hurt their own comrades in the boats. But the English sailors took advantage of the lull to set to their task of towing the Bienfaisant with hearty goodwill.

"She moves! she moves!" cried Humphrey excitedly, standing at the wheel to direct her course. "Well pulled, comrades--well pulled indeed! Ah, their guns are going to speak again! They will not let us go without a parting salute."

The batteries on shore opened their mouths, and belched forth flame and smoke. The ship staggered beneath the leaden hail; but the guns were too high to do mischief to the boats upon the water, and the sailors replied by a lusty cheer. Julian wiped away a few drops of blood that trickled down his face from a slight cut on his temple; but for the most part the shot struck only the spars and rigging, whistling harmlessly over the heads of the men on deck, who laughed and cheered as they encouraged their comrades in the boats to row their hardest and get beyond reach of the enemy's fire.

Wolfe had planted a battery himself just lately which commanded a part of the harbour, and beneath this sheltering battery the Bienfaisant was towed, whilst the sailors cheered might and main; and once out of reach of the enemy's fire, rested on their oars and watched the grand illumination of the flame-wrapped Prudent.

"If war is a horrible thing," said Julian reflectively to Humphrey, "it has at least its grand sights. Look at the red glare upon the shifting fog banks! Is it not like some wild diabolic carnival? One could fancy one saw the forms of demons flitting to and fro in all that reek and glare."

Humphrey's grave young face wore a rather stern look.

"I have seen other fires than that, and heard of those I have not seen--fires the memory of which will live in my heart for years and years! If we burn the vessels of the French, is it not because they have hounded on the Indians to burn our homesteads, ay, and with them our defenceless wives and children, mothers and sisters? Shall not deeds like these bring about a stern retaliation? Are we not here to take vengeance upon those who have been treacherous foes, and shamed the Christian profession that they make? Shall we pity or spare when we remember what they have done? The blood of our brothers cries out to us. We do but repay them in their own coin."

"Yes," returned Julian thoughtfully; "there is a stern law of reaping and sowing ordained of God Himself. We may well believe that we are instruments in His hands for the carrying out of His purpose. Yet we must seek always to be led of Him, and not to take matters into our own hands. 'Vengeance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord.'"

"I believe He will," said Humphrey, with a flash in his eyes; "but give it to me to be there to see!"

"As I think we shall," answered Julian, "for I believe that the key of the war will lie next at Quebec. Whoever holds that, holds the power in Canada, and from Canada can command the western frontier. And the taking of Quebec is the object upon which the mind of Wolfe is firmly set. You know how often he has said to us, 'If I could achieve that, I could say my Nunc Dimittis with joy and thankfulness.' I believe in my heart that he will live to see that glorious victory for England's arms."

Wolfe was waiting upon the strand for the boat which brought Julian and Humphrey back with the details of the victorious enterprise. He grasped them both by the hand.

"Now I think that surrender cannot much longer be delayed, and, in truth, I hope it will not be. News has reached us from the west of some great disaster at Ticonderoga. It is but the voice of rumour. A light fishing smack brought letters to the General this evening, dated from Albany, and sent by special messenger. Nothing definite is known; but they report a disastrous defeat, attributed to the untimely death of Lord Howe quite early in the expedition. I cannot say what truth there may be in this, but I fear some great disaster has recently taken place. It has made the General and his officers very stern and resolved. England's honour has been sorely tarnished by these many defeats. But I believe her star will rise again. Louisbourg at least must fall ere long."

Julian and Humphrey were both filled with sorrow and anxiety at this piece of news. Charles and Fritz were both likely, they thought, if living still, to be there with the army; and one was anxious for news of his brother, and the other of his comrade and friend.

"When Louisbourg is taken," said Humphrey, "I shall ask leave of absence to go to seek my brother. My sister in Philadelphia will give me tidings of him. I shall go thither, and come back when the attempt upon proud Quebec is made."

"If I had my way, we should sail from Louisbourg straight for Quebec," cried Wolfe, with a flash in his eyes. "I would follow up one blow by another. Yet I know not whether our instructions will carry us thus far. Nevertheless, I hope to live to see the day when the English flag shall wave over the ramparts of that city and fortress which has been called the Impregnable."

The news, rumour though it was and unconfirmed, of fresh disaster to the English arms in the interior excited much feeling in the English ranks. Had there been another massacre, such as had disgraced the struggle at Fort William Henry? What would be the next tidings which would reach them of their brethren in arms?

There had been so many tales of horror told out in the wild west that strong men often shuddered at the bare thought of what they might have to bear. So the faces of men and officers were alike stern and dark; and when the white flag fluttered at last from the walls of Louisbourg, and the news ran like wildfire through the camp that the fortress was about to surrender, there was a feeling in all hearts that the terms granted should not be too easy. France owed England a deep and mighty debt, which sooner or later she must pay.

Wolfe was sent for to be with General Amherst when he received the deputation of the French, and he returned to his quarters looking grave and thoughtful.

"We have told them that they must surrender as prisoners of war, and send their reply within an hour. If they refuse, we attack at once both by land and sea. We are all resolved that the siege shall be brought to an end. If we could have been here a month earlier, we might have effected a junction with our friends in the west, and have averted the calamity which has overtaken them there."

"Will they accept?" asked Julian eagerly. "They are in a sore strait, but yet they are brave men. They might, perhaps, have looked to be permitted to march out with the honours of war after their bold defence."

"Yes; and this would have been granted them had it not been for what happened at Fort William Henry. But the memory of that day cannot be wiped out from the memory of our officers, The General was supported by the bulk of his officers. They will have no conditions. They will treat the sick and the wounded and the towns people with every consideration, but they will be absolute masters. The Admiral was there, and he and the General signed the note. They are resolved to abide by its contents."

Excitement reigned everywhere. The firing had ceased, and the stillness of the air was like that which sometimes precedes the bursting of a thunderstorm, What reply would the fort return? and how quickly would it arrive? It was understood that, in the event of delay, a general assault would be made, and some of the soldiers would have eagerly welcomed the order for the advance.

Keen excitement prevailed when it became known that a messenger had come, not bringing the expected reply, but one asking for less rigorous terms.

"The General would not see him," was the cry. "He was sent back to say that nothing would be changed from the last letter addressed to the Governor. The Admiral and General are alike agreed. There will be no wavering from that."

It was plain that there was some variance in the city itself. In the ranks of the besieging force there was intense excitement and stir. Every man was looking to his arms, save when he was asking news and gazing towards the walls of the city. That something decisive must soon be settled was apparent to all.

The white flag again! A messenger was coming out towards the camp with the reply. He appeared in no haste, and paused again and again to look back. Suddenly another man appeared running hastily after him. The first messenger paused, consulted with him, and then turned back towards the city. The second man ran on alone, making vehement signs, as though afraid there might yet be some misunderstanding.

"We accept! we accept!" he shouted out, waving a paper above his head, beside himself with excitement.

Two men followed him; they were taken into the tent of the General, who, with the Admiral, was awaiting the final answer. But the first messenger remained without, panting and exhausted, and Julian instantly recognized him as an officer who had shown him some kindness during his short stay within the fortress.

He came up to him now, and the recognition was mutual.

"So you were a spy all the while, my friend!" said the Frenchman, with something like a grim laugh. "Had we known that, you would have received a different welcome. Ah well, it matters little now. And it is a pity for brave men to die like dogs. We were in a sad pass before. You could not have told much that was not already known."

"The fortress is ready to capitulate?"

"Not the fortress, but the town. Bad as our condition is, we would not have surrendered on those terms. We had indeed dispatched a messenger to say as much. But the Provost and the citizens were too many for us. They ran to the citadel, and made such work that the Governor yielded, and I offered, being fleet of foot, to run after the messenger and stop him if it could be done. Luckily his own heart misgave him, and he had not hurried. And close upon my heels were sent others with more definite instructions. And thus Louisbourg passes into the hands of gallant foes. But I trust they will show every courtesy to our brave Madame."

"Have no fear on that score," answered Julian; "I have told in the English camp of the bravery and gracious kindness of Madame le General. Our commander will see that she is treated with every consideration; as also the sick and wounded, her special charge. It is well not to drive us to assault the weakened town. Now we shall enter as friends rather than foes."

"So said the Provost, remembering that the English have much cause of complaint against us. We cannot deny that ourselves. Ah me! it is the chance of war. We have had our triumphs, and now you have your turn. It is not here but at Quebec that the real trial of strength will be. I think, my friends, you will find that you have a hard nut to crack there."

"So they said of Louisbourg, and yet that has been done," answered Julian, with a smile. "But come in, and refresh yourself in my tent here whilst the messengers are conferring with our General. They will have to draw up terms of capitulation. There will be time to get a good meal whilst that is being done."

At dawn the following morning the drums beat. The English soldiers got into order, and marched through the Dauphin gate into the town. The French soldiers, drawn up in array, threw down their muskets, and with tears of mortification marched away, leaving the victors in possession.

The English flag was run up, amid wild cheering, and floated over the grim and shattered ramparts. The turn of the tide had come at last, and Louisbourg had fallen into the hands of the English.

[Chapter 4]: The Fruits Of Victory.

Wolfe lay upon a couch in a comfortable apartment, such as he had not inhabited since he set sail from England months ago. It was in the citadel itself--in the heart of the King's Bastion, where the Governor had his quarters.

Wolfe had been the life and soul of the siege. To his genius and indomitable resolution the victory of the English arms had been largely due. He had forced himself to take the lead, and had toiled night and day in the crisis of the struggle and the final triumph; and even after the victors had marched in, his eyes seemed to be everywhere, enforcing discipline, preventing any sort of disorder or licence amongst the soldiers, and sternly repressing the smallest attempt on their part to plunder the townsfolk, or take the slightest advantage of their helpless condition.

He had specially seen to the condition of the sick and wounded, insuring them the same care as was given to the English in like case. This had been one of the articles of the capitulation, but it was one which was in like cases too often carelessly carried out, sometimes almost ignored.

Wolfe with his own eyes saw that there was no shirking, no mismanagement here. He seemed to be everywhere at once during those busy days which followed the entrance into the town. But outraged nature would have her revenge at last, and for three days he had lain helpless and suffering in the room assigned to him in the Governor's house, watched over and tended by Julian, who had by this time come to have a very adequate idea as to the treatment most needed by him when those attacks came on.

The cool of the evening had followed upon the heat of a very sultry day, which had greatly tried the sufferer. Wolfe looked up, and saw his friend beside him, and smiled in recognition of his attentions.

"You are always here, Julian; you must surely want rest yourself. You have been here night and day. I know it even though I may not seem to do so. But I shall be on my legs again soon. I can feel that the access of pain is abating. How have things been going in the town since I was laid by the heels?"

"Oh well, several vessels with their load of prisoners have already sailed for England; many of the townsfolk and merchants have started, or are starting, for France; some regiments of our men are to be sent at once to reinforce General Abercromby. I fear by all accounts that they will come too late to be of any real use for the campaign this season. It is quite true that he suffered a crushing defeat at Ticonderoga, due, as many of the officers say, to bad generalship. Still he will doubtless be glad of support in the wilderness, wherever he may be. Humphrey is to start with the first detachment; he expects his orders for departure daily."

Wolfe raised himself upon his elbow and sat up, despite his weakness, fired by excitement and energy.

"But Quebec, Quebec, Quebec!" he exclaimed; "surely we are going forward to Quebec?"

Julian shook his head doubtfully.

"I fear me not at least this present season. I hear it said that General Amherst was ready, but that the Admiral was against it for the present. They say there is still much to do in subduing the adjacent possessions of France in these lands, and so paving the way for the greater enterprise. Various officers are to be sent hither and thither upon expeditions to small settlements, to uproot or destroy them. When this has been done, perhaps the move to Quebec will be made. But I fear me it will not be before next year."

Wolfe made a gesture of irritation and impatience.

"Have we not yet had enough of procrastination?" he questioned bitterly. "Will England never learn the lesson which her reverses should have taught her? What boots the victory we have gained here, if it be not the stepping stone to lead us to Quebec?"

"Who speaks of Quebec?" asked a clear, musical voice at the half-open door; and Julian sprang to his feet, exclaiming as he did so:

"It is Madame Drucour! she has come every day to see and inquire after you."

Hearing the sound of her name, the lady pushed open the door and entered--a graceful, stately figure clothed all in black; her beautiful face worn and pale, and trouble lurking in the depths of her hazel eyes; yet calm and serene and noble of aspect as she moved forward and held out a slim white hand to the patient.

"You are better, Monsieur?" she asked, in her full, rich tones. "I trust that the suffering is less than it was. The fever, I can see, has abated somewhat."

Wolfe carried the hand he held to his lips. In common with all the officers who had made her acquaintance, Wolfe had come to have a very high opinion of Madame Drucour.

"I thank you, gracious lady, for your condescension in asking. I trust soon to be restored to such measure of health and strength as I ever enjoy. At best I am but a cranky creature; but with quarters such as these I should be worse than ungrateful if I did not mend. I trust my presence here has caused you no inconvenience; for truly I believe that I am in your house, and that I owe to you the comforts I enjoy."

She gave a strange little smile as she seated herself beside him.

"In truth, Monsieur, I know not what I may call my own today. This town and fortress are now no longer ours, and we are but here ourselves on sufferance--prisoners of war--"

"Nay, nay, not prisoners--not you, Madame," answered Wolfe hastily. "We war not against women--least of all such noble ladies as yourself!"

She acknowledged this speech by a little motion of the head, and then continued, in a tone at once sorrowful and dignified: "I cannot separate myself from those amongst whom I have lived for so long. I acknowledge with gratitude the courtesy I have received from all. I know that my personal liberty is assured to me. But my heart will always be where there is need of help by my own countrymen. If not a prisoner to the English, I am held in other bonds."

"Ah yes," answered Wolfe, with an answering sparkle in his eye; "that I understand well. We are all bound to our country in bonds that cannot be severed. And yet we are bound to the common cause of humanity, and there we meet on common ground. We need not remember anything else at such a time, Madame. We serve in one army there. Do not our wounded as well as your own bless the sight of your face and the sound of your voice amongst them?"

"And have they not cause to bless the name of that brave officer who, in spite of his own weakness and suffering, would not rest until he had seen in person that all were cared for--foes as well as friends? Yes, truly, Monsieur, in one warfare we can stand upon the same side, and fight the same battle against disease and suffering and death. I would that this were the only kind of warfare that is known in the world!"

"And I too--sometimes," replied Wolfe, lying back again on his pillows and looking dreamily out before him. "There are moments, it is true, when the battle fever works in a man's blood, and war seems to him then a glorious game. But it has its terrible and hateful side, as every soldier knows well. And yet the day seems far away when wars shall be no more."

"Indeed yes," answered Madame Drucour, with a little sigh; "we have a sorrowful prospect before us yet. What was the word which I heard you speak as I entered? Was it not of that projected march upon Quebec?"

"It was," answered Wolfe frankly. "I may not deny, Madame, that the longing of my heart at this moment is to try conclusions with your gallant countrymen beneath the walls of Quebec."

"You are bold, Monsieur," said Madame Drucour, with a little smile.

"You know Quebec, Madame?"

"Very well. It is there that I purpose going with my husband when the exchange is completed which gives him his liberty. I have relatives there, and I go to be with them when duty may call my husband elsewhere. If you come to Quebec, Monsieur, we may perchance meet again."

"It will be something happy to look forward to."

"There is always joy in feeling that the foe we fight is a noble and generous one. I shall tell in Quebec how the English General, though stern in his terms of capitulation, refused to me nothing that I asked when once the town was given up, and how generously he and all his officers showed themselves, and in especial one--Brigadier Wolfe!"

The young man bowed at the compliment.

"And I, on my side, shall know that if Madame Drucour is within the walls of Quebec, no garrison can fail to be gallant and devoted. Such an example before their eyes would put heart and heroism into the most faint hearted."

A very sincere liking grew up between Madame Drucour and her guests before Wolfe was on his legs again, and able to return to his quarters amongst his men. Indeed, his happiest hours were spent in the company of that lady, for there was much to vex and try him when in the camp.

There was to be no move upon Quebec that season and Wolfe chafed rather bitterly at the decision, and wrote to General Amherst in stronger terms than most subordinate officers would have ventured to do. He even spoke of throwing up the service, if nothing were to be done at such a critical time; but the General would not hear of losing so valuable an officer, and indeed, in spite of the irritability sometimes engendered by his ill-health, Wolfe was too much the soldier at heart ever to abandon his calling.

It was, however, rather hard to one of his ardent and chivalrous temperament, eager for the great blow to be struck against Quebec, to be deputed to harry and destroy a number of little fishing settlements along the Gulf of St. Lawrence--which measure he considered a needless severity, and hated accordingly. It was a relief to him to know that Pitt, having heard of his severe bout of illness after the taking of Louisbourg, had summoned him back to England to recruit his health.

"When we have finished our great exploit of robbing fishermen of their nets and burning their huts, we will to England again, Julian; and you will come with me, my trusty comrade and friend. If we are spreading the terror of England's name here, we are not adding to her laurels. Let me remain at home till there be real warfare to accomplish, and then let me come out again. This task is odious and sickening to me. Were it not that another might show more harshness and barbarity over it, I would e'en decline the mission."

Humphrey had already left Louisbourg for Philadelphia and the western frontier; but Julian had elected to remain with Wolfe, who had come to depend upon him in no small measure. There was something in the temperaments of the two men which made them congenial one to the other. Wolfe's restless irritability was soothed by Julian's quiet calmness, and there was in both men a strain of ardent patriotism and self devotion which gave them sympathies in common.

Together they set sail for England when the soldier's work was done, and after a fairly prosperous voyage they landed in that country, and immediately started for Bath, where Wolfe hoped to find relief from his rheumatic troubles, and gain the strength which he had lost during this hard campaign.

"I think my mother will be awaiting me there this time," he said, with a light in his eyes. "You have never seen my mother yet, Julian. Ah, how I long to see her again! she has been such a mother to me! There are times when I think if I have to give up this profession of arms, and take to a quiet life, I could have a very happy life at home with my mother. We suit each other so well, and we are like each other in our foibles and weaknesses. I think I have inherited my cranky health from her, but not her beauty. You will see for yourself how little like her I am in that respect when we get home."

To Julian, who had known nothing of the joys of home since he left his valley in the far south of the Western world, and who had no home to call his own now, there was something touching in the eagerness of Wolfe to reach his home and his mother. His father was not likely to be there. He would almost certainly be either in Kent, or else abroad; for he still held a command in the army, and the war on the Continent was still raging furiously. But the mother would be awaiting her son in the house he had written to ask her to secure for him again. It was within easy reach of the town, and yet it was quiet and secluded, and suited his tastes and habits.

It was almost dark one murky autumn evening when the lumbering coach, which had conveyed the friends the last stages of their journey, drew up at the door of the house. Lights shone in the windows, and from the open door there streamed out a glowing shaft of yellow light, bespeaking the warm welcome awaiting the tired traveller.

Wolfe had been weary to the verge of exhaustion when they had abandoned the attempt to ride the whole distance, and had secured the heavy coach; but now he seemed to revive to new life, and he sprang from it with some of the activity of youth and strength.

"Mother--there is my mother!" he exclaimed; and Julian saw him take the steps two at a time, to meet the advancing greeting from the mother who had come to welcome home her son.

Mrs. Wolfe was a distinctly beautiful woman, whose beauty had been but little dimmed by time. There was a sweet, matronly repose about her, and the brightness of her red-gold hair was dashed with streaks of soft grey beneath the laces with which it was crowned. But her complexion was clear and fair, and there was a look of soft fragility about her which made the son's protecting air of solicitude a natural and appropriate one. She folded him in her arms in a long, rapturous embrace; and Julian stood silently by the while, reverent of that deep love which for the moment could find no expression save in the whispered words:

"Mother! mother! mother!"

"My son--my dear boy! my son come back to me!"

When the lady turned at length to greet the silent figure who stood silently watching this meeting, Julian could see that the tears were standing upon her cheeks and sparkling in her eyes.

"You will pardon me, sir, for this apparent neglect," she said sweetly, putting her thin jewelled fingers into Julian's hand; "but when my boy goes forth to the fight, I never know whether it will be God's will to send him back to me safe and sound. A mother's heart cannot but be full upon a day like this. But second only to my joy in welcoming him back is this of making acquaintance with the trusty friend who has been so much to him during his perils and labours."

"Madam, it has been the joy and honour of my life to be able to serve so great a soldier and so noble a man!"

The warm clasp upon his fingers gave the mother's answer to this; and then they all moved within the lighted hall, where a glowing fire and a number of candles gave bright illumination, and where quite a hubbub of welcome was going on. The servants were pressing forward to see and greet their young master, who had come home crowned with laurels. It was known by this time in England how much of the success at Louisbourg had been due to Wolfe's unfailing energy and intrepidity. He was a hero at home as well as abroad, though he had hardly realized it yet. Moreover, he was vociferously welcomed by his dogs, all of whom had been brought by his mother to meet their master again; and he had much ado to return the manifold greetings bestowed upon him, and to free himself at last from the demonstrative affection of his canine friends.

A plentiful supper was awaiting the wearied travellers; and it was when they had put in order their dress and entered the dining room that they were aware of the presence of another lady, a very handsome, dark-eyed girl, who stood beside the glowing fire regarding their entrance with looks of unaffected interest.

"My dear," said Mrs. Wolfe, "let me present to you my son James, of whom you know much, although you have never met; and his friend and companion, Lieutenant Julian Dautray, whose name is equally known to you.

"This, James, is Miss Kate Lowther, the daughter of an old friend of ours, who has left her in my charge whilst he takes a last voyage to Barbados, where once he was Governor, to be my daughter and companion till he comes back to claim her."

The bright-eyed girl dropped a courtesy to the gentlemen, who bowed low before her; but then holding out her hand frankly to Wolfe, she said in a clear, fresh voice.

"I am so glad to see you, Cousin James. I am going to call you that because I call your mother Aunt, and she has given me leave to do so. I know so much about you from your letters. I have copied every one of them to send to your father, for Aunt will not part with the originals even for him! I know all about Louisbourg, and the batteries, and the ships, and the big guns. Oh, I think if I were a man I could become an officer at once, and command a great campaign like that one! We had such rejoicings here when the news came! it was like new life to us. We had heard of that dreadful defeat at Ticonderoga, and it seemed as though England was never to rise from the dust of humiliation. It was openly said that Louisbourg would never fall; that it was as impregnable as Quebec. Oh, there was such lugubrious talk! And then came the news of the victory, and of Brigadier Wolfe's valiant and doughty deeds. You may guess how your mother's eyes shone at that! And all England echoed to the sound of your name!"

"A name more formidable in sound than in reality," spoke Wolfe, laughing, but cheered and pleased by the sincere and pretty enthusiasm of the winning girl. "When those who have kindly admired me from the distance come to inspect me in person, what a shock they will receive! We shall have to palm Julian here off as the right man; he will play the part with much more dignity and grace."

Kate looked from one to the other laughing.

"What do you expect me to say to that? Lieutenant Dautray looks every inch a soldier; but I think, Cousin James, that you have the air of the man born to command."

"In spite of my cropped red head and lanky limbs? I am proud of the compliment paid me."

Wolfe was certainly rather taken aback to find himself a man of so much mark when he showed himself in Bath. He had quite an ovation when first he appeared at the Pump Room; and although he was in a measure accustomed to lead a public life, and to be the object of attention and even admiration, he shrank from having this carried into his private life, and was happiest at home with his mother and friend, and with bright Kate Lowther, with whom he soon became wonderfully intimate.

The girl's sincere affection for his frail and delicate mother would in any case have won his heart; but there was something exceedingly attractive in her whole personality and in her eager interest in his past career and in the fortunes of the war. She would sit for hours beside him whilst he related to his mother the incidents of the campaign, and her questions and comments showed a quick intelligence and ready sympathy that were a never-failing source of interest to him.

Her strength and vitality were refreshing to one who was himself almost always weak and suffering. He would watch her at play with the dogs in the garden, or up and down the staircase, and delight in the grace and vigour of her movements. She would come in from her walks and rides with a glow upon her face and a light in her eyes, and sitting down beside him would relate all that had befallen her since her departure an hour or two before--telling everything in so racy and lively a fashion that it became the chiefest pleasure of Wolfe's life to lie and look at her and listen to her conversation.

Christmas was close upon them. It would be a bright and happy season for mother and son, spent together after their long separation. Upon the eve of that day Kate came eagerly in with a large official letter in her hand, addressed to the soldier. It was a moment of excitement whilst he opened it, for it was known that he had been corresponding latterly with several ministers respecting the proposed expedition against Quebec, and all knew how dear to his heart was the fulfilment of that daring scheme.

As he read the document his cheek flushed. He sat up more erect in his chair, and there came into his face a look which his soldiers well knew. It was always to be seen there when he led them into battle.

"Mother," he said very quietly, "Mr. Pitt has chosen me to command the expedition now fitting out against Quebec."

Mrs. Wolfe gave a little gasp, the tears springing to her eyes; but over Kate's face there spread a deep, beautiful flush, and she grasped the young man by the hand, exclaiming:

"O Cousin James, how glad I am! What a splendid victory it will be!"

"If it be won!" he said, looking up at her with kindling eyes. "But there is always an 'if' in the case."

"There will be none when you are in command," answered Kate, with a ring of proud assurance in her voice. "Had you been commander of the Louisbourg expedition, Quebec would have been ours by now."

Their eyes met. In hers he read unbounded admiration and faith. It thrilled him strangely. It brought a look of new purpose into his face. He held her hand, and she left it lying in his clasp. He was holding it still when he turned to his mother.

"Are you not glad, mother mine?" he asked gently.

"Oh yes, my son--glad and proud of the honour done you, of the appreciation shown of your worth and service. But how will you be able to undergo all that fatigue, and the perils and sufferings of another voyage? That is what goes to my heart. You are so little fit for it all!"

"I have found that a man can always be fit for his duty," said Wolfe gravely. "Is not that so, Kate?"

"With you it is," she answered, with another of her wonderful glances; and the mother, watching the faces of the pair, rose from her seat and crept from the room. Her heart was at once glad and sorrowful, proud and heavy; she felt that she must ease it with a little weeping before she could talk of this great thing with the spirit her son would look to find in her.

Wolfe and Kate were left alone together. He got possession of her other hand. She was standing before him still, a beautiful bloom upon her face, her eyes shining like stars.

"You are pleased with all this, my Kate?" he asked; and he let the last words escape him unconsciously.

"Pleased that your country should do you this great honour? Of course I am pleased. You have deserved it at her hands; yet men do not always get their deserts in this world."

"No; and you must not think that there are not hundreds of better and braver men than myself in our army, or that I am a very wonderful person. I have got the wish of my heart--it has been granted to me more fully than I ever looked to see it; but how often do we see in the hour of triumph that there is something bitter in the cup, something we had not looked to find there. Three months ago I was burning to sail for Quebec, and now--"

He paused for a moment, and she looked full at him.

"Surely you have not changed. You want to go; your heart is set upon it!"

"Yes," he answered gravely: "my wish and purpose have never wavered; but now my heart is divided. Once it beat only for my country, and the clash of arms was music in my ears; now it has found a rival elsewhere. If I go to Quebec, I must leave you behind, my Kate!"

Suddenly into her bright eyes there sprang the smart of tears. She clasped the hands that held hers and pressed them closely.

"It will not be for long," she said; "you will return covered with glory and renown!"

"It may be so, it may be so; yet who can tell? Think how many gallant soldiers have been left behind upon that great continent: Braddock, Howe--oh, I could name many others less known to fame, perhaps, but gallant soldiers all. We go out with our lives in our hand, and so many never return!"

The tears began to fall slowly in sparkling drops. She could not release her hands to wipe them away.

"Do not speak so, James; it is not like you! Why do you try to break my heart?"

"Would you care so much, so much, were I to find a soldier's grave?"

A quick sob was her reply. She turned her head away.

"Kate, do you love me?"

"I think you know that I do, James."

"I have begun to hope, and yet I have scarcely dared. You so full of life and strength and beauty, and I such a broken crock!"

"A hero, you mean!" she answered, with flashing eyes--"a soldier and a hero; tenfold more a hero in that you overcome pain and weakness, sickness and suffering, in the discharge of your duty, and do things that others would declare impossible! Oh yes, I have heard of you; Lieutenant Dautray has told me. I know how you have done the impossible again and yet again. James, you will do this once again. You will storm that great fortress which men call impregnable--you will storm it and you will vanquish it; and you will come home crowned with glory and honour! And I shall be here waiting for you; I shall watch and wait till you come. It is written in the book of fate that your name is to go down to posterity as the hero of Quebec. I am sure of it--oh, I am sure! Do not say anything to damp my hope, for I will not believe you!"

He looked into her face, and his own kindled strangely. "I will say nothing but that I love you--I love you--I love you! Today that is enough between us, Kate. Let the rest go--the honour and glory of the world, the commission, and all besides. Today we belong to each other; tomorrow we sing of peace on earth, goodwill toward men. Let that suffice us; let us forget the rest. We will be happy together in our love, and in love to all mankind. After that we must think again of these things. Afterwards thoughts of war and strife must have their place; but for once let love be lord of our lives. After that storm and strife--and Quebec!"