“Indeed I do. We are starting in a few hours,” said Madame Pèan, smiling. “Can you be ready?”
“Ready? I should think so indeed! I have nothing to do,” said Mercèdes. “I suppose Marthe will stay here. You will not mind being alone for a few days, shall you?” she said, turning to her nurse.
“No, Mademoiselle, assuredly not. Go and amuse yourself; your life is dull enough, and yet the General——”
“Oh, Marthe!” interrupted Mercèdes reproachfully. “Do you think I would care to go if it were not to see my father, and perhaps have news of the dear ones at Candiac? It is so long since I heard from them.”
“Of course, of course,” said Madame Péan. “I will take good care of her, Marthe; and only think how delighted the General will be to see his daughter.”
“I hope the General will be satisfied,” answered Marthe doubtfully; “but he particularly desired I should never leave Mademoiselle, and you know he does not approve——”
“That is enough, Marthe; I will take all responsibility on myself; and, after all, Mademoiselle is in my charge, and you know, I think, by this time, that I love her dearly.” Then turning to Mercèdes, Madame Péan continued, “You will be ready by twelve o’clock, dearest. Mind you have plenty of furs and wraps of all sorts. It is freezing hard; it is grand weather. Fancy sleighing from Quebec to Montreal! It will be something to say one has accomplished such a feat! Now, good-bye; come down to my rooms when you are ready. Adieu, Marthe. You need not be anxious about your nursling.” And she left them.
Two years and a half had elapsed since Mercèdes first set foot in Canada, and from a mere girl she had developed into a woman. She was small and slender, and still looked very young; indeed, though she was now eighteen years of age, she was but little altered. She had more colour, and was healthier in appearance, which, with her bright dark eyes and soft smile, made her almost good-looking. She and Marthe had settled down to their quiet way of living, and by degrees had been nearly forgotten by the outside world. The General had ceased to worry about her, and was only too glad when he visited Quebec, which he did not do sometimes for several months at a time, to find Mercèdes, with her ready sympathy and warm affection. It was the only real relaxation he knew of; and many a happy hour was passed in those little rooms overlooking the convent. By degrees they had come to a sort of tacit agreement that she should not enter the convent until the war was ended. If the truth must be told, Mercèdes experienced a sense of relief when this was decided; she had grown to love Canada, for the defence of which her father was giving the best years of his life, and all the genius with which nature had endowed him.
She had made many excursions in the neighbourhood of Quebec, sometimes in company with Madame Péan, sometimes alone with Marthe, and was never tired of admiring the lovely scenery. The village of Beauport, with its whitewashed dwellings, situated on the curving shore of the river St. Charles, and stretching down to the rocky gorge of Montmorenci, charmed her. The fields on either side were studded with huts and Indian wigwams. In the short summer and early autumn the varied colour of the trees lent great brilliancy to the landscape. The hills, which had shrunk almost out of sight on one hand, looking like a long purple line against the horizon, drew suddenly so near the shore that at one point they seemed to rise almost out of the water.
In the winter the scene was changed, but she loved it still; the joyous sleigh bells, making music as the sleighing parties flew through the villages and hamlets lying beneath their snowy shroud, filled the girl’s heart with gladness, and she realised to the full the joy of living. And so time had passed quickly with her, and she had been happy, with the quiet, unreasoning happiness of the young, to whom the past has brought little sadness, and upon whom the future smiles with all the enchanting fascination of unbounded hope. And then Mercèdes was not given to anticipate trouble. Her strong religious sentiments gave her a calm faith which never deserted her, and next to God she believed in her father. The struggle might be long, might be difficult, but assuredly he would come forth a conqueror.