“Because my honour is pledged,” he answered. “Not to the Indians; I shall never again dwell among them or be one with them; but to Canada, to General Montcalm. I have sworn to stand by him to the end, and I will do so, not as an Indian chief if I can help it. I shall join the Canadian militia as a volunteer, as I ought to have done from the first, and fight for the cause which I still believe to be the right one. Tell Roger this; he will understand. And now let me have one look at Father Nat, after which I will lie down and sleep, for I am terribly weary. I have been three weeks on the road from Montreal, and must return as quickly as possible. Is Roger still here to protect you?”
“He will not leave us till the spring,” said Marcus. “He is gone now for a couple of days to Cauterets on business; when he does go for good he will leave us well protected. You need not fear; we have sentries out by night and by day now.”
“It is well; let me see Father Nat,” said Charles; and they led the way to the room where Nathaniel Boscowen lay sleeping. Shading the lamp she carried in her hand, Loïs approached the bed, and was surprised to see that his eyes were open and that he moved restlessly.
“Is that you, Loïs?” he asked.
“Yes, father,” she answered; “shall I arrange your pillows?” and signing to the two young men to keep in the shadow, she bent over him.
He lifted his hand. “My pillows are all right,” he said; “but I heard voices in the room below, and it seemed to me I recognised Charles’s. I would it were so; I loved the lad: if only I might see him before I die!”
“You are not going to die, Father Nat; you are getting well, and will be as hale and hearty as ever. Do you wish to see Charles so very much?” said Loïs.
“Yes,” answered Nathaniel shortly, as if the question irritated him.
“Then I will tell you something. It was his voice you heard; he is here,” said Loïs.
“Where?” asked Father Nat, trying to lift his head, but Charles was quickly beside him.