Maud's candle burned late that night again, and when the ship left for Montreal the next evening the mail bag contained two letters for Penetang, one to Mrs. Manning, the other to Dr. Beaumont.
More than a month passed away. The fortunes of war had been ebbing and flowing first on one side, then on the other—the belligerents on neither being as yet satisfied. Still the conflict was nearing the end. News travelled slowly then; but word of battle, even when three weeks old, was just as interesting as it is now when the happening was only yesterday.
The news of Lundy's Lane had arrived. The Citadel and all Halifax were excited over it, for although the British claimed the victory, yet two of the companies that had served in the fort for years, had been in the heat of the fight, and had lost more than half their men.
In small garrison towns, stationary troops soon become identified with the people, and the results of battle fill them with intense interest. Having once heard the rumour of the conflict, the people were anxious to hear more, and soldiers off duty were asked repeatedly for the latest details. At every street corner the battle was discussed; while in the homes it was the one absorbing theme.
With the news also came that letter to Maud forwarded by the Sergeant, but as already noted, written before the conflict.
"Captain Morris' name is in everybody's mouth," said Judge Maxwell to his daughters that evening. "The people are wild over him. They say he is one of the bravest officers in the service. What a pity he was so nearly killed!"
"Nearly killed! Is it so bad as that, father?" Maud asked with trembling voice.
"The news is three weeks old, and we cannot tell what may have happened in that time, but he was shot in the scalp and bayonetted in the body and the leg. What is more, he was leading what remained of his men for the third time, and struck down his opponent with his sword the very moment that he fell. If that is not bravery you will have to search the pages of history to find it."
Maud's eyes flashed, and she shot into her father's face a look of mingled exultation and anguish.
"But his wounds, father, are they dangerous?"