“No one who has ever lived with General Montcalm as I have can possibly forget him. I shall cherish his memory as long as I live,” said Charles, with deep emotion.
“Thanks, I am glad to think it will be so,” and a faint smile lighted up her pale face. “Adieu!” and she passed her hand between the iron bars. “Wear this in remembrance of him,” she added, slipping a ring of great price on his finger.
“I will never part with it. Adieu,” repeated Charles, and stooping, he touched the tips of her fingers with his lips. When he raised his head she had disappeared.
The following morning he was amongst the spectators who witnessed the ceremony of Mercèdes Montcalm taking the veil, and as he left the chapel his heart was very sad within him.
CHAPTER XXXIII
A LONG JOURNEY
“Reverend Mother, there is a woman at the gate with an Indian lad and a big dog. She is asking to speak with one ‘Mercèdes Montcalm,’” said old Michel, the gardener and doorkeeper of the convent.
“It is late, Michel; we cannot let strangers in at this hour. Tell her she must return to-morrow,” said the Reverend Mother of the Ursulines.
“I told her as much,” said Michel; “but she bade me say she had travelled from the far west, that she was very weary, and knew not where to go. She gave me this,” and he handed her a slip of paper.
“I am Loïs Langlade, Charles Langlade’s sister, and am come to fetch the child my brother gave in charge to Mercèdes Montcalm.”
“Poor thing!” said the Mother; “she does not know. This will grieve our new sister, Marie Mercèdes; but you must bring the stranger in, Michel. Charles Langlade’s sister cannot remain in the streets.”