"In either case," said Lochiel, "as long as the war lasts I can not honorably resign my commission. But when peace comes, I propose to sell the poor remnant of my Highland estate and come and establish myself on this side of the water. My deepest affections are here. I love Canada, I love the simple and upright manners of your good habitants; and after a quiet but busy life, I would rest my head beneath the same sod with you, my brother."
"My position is very different from yours," answered Jules. "You are the master of your actions; I am the slave of circumstance. If we lose Canada, it is probable that most of the Canadian nobility will move to France, where they will find protection and friends. If my family is of this number I can not leave the army. In the contrary case I shall return after some years of service, to live and die with my own people; and, like you, to sleep at last in the land I love so well. Everything leads me to hope, my brother, that after a storm-tossed youth we shall come to see happier days."
The two friends parted after a long and loving talk, the last they were to have while the colony remained New France. When the reader meets them again after some years, the country will have changed both name and masters.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE SHIPWRECK OF THE AUGUSTE.
The predictions of the witch of the manor were accomplished. After the surrender of Quebec, the rich D'Habervilles had been but too glad to accept the hospitality of M. d'Egmont's cabin, whose remoteness had saved it from the flames. "The good gentleman" and Uncle Raoul, with the faithful André, had gone at once to work and raised the narrow attic, so as to leave the ground floor to the use of the ladies. To cheer the latter, the men affected a gayety which they were far from feeling; and their songs were often heard, mingled with the rapid strokes of the axe, the grating of the saw, the sharp whistling of the plane. By dint of toil and perseverance, they succeeded in sheltering themselves tolerably from the severity of the season; and had it not been for the anxiety which they suffered in regard to Captain D'Haberville and Jules, the winter would have passed pleasantly enough in their solitude.
Their most difficult problem was that of provisions, for a veritable famine held sway in all the country-side. The little grain which the habitants had harvested was for the most part eaten boiled, in default of mill to grind it. The sole remaining resource lay in fishing and hunting, but M. d'Egmont and his servant were rather old to indulge in such exercises during the severe weather. Uncle Raoul, lame as he was, took charge of the commissariat. He set snares to catch rabbits and partridges, and his fair niece helped him. Blanche made herself a sort of hunting costume; and simply ravishing she looked in her half-savage garb, her petticoat of blue cloth falling half-way below the knee, her scarlet gaiters, her deer-hide moccasins worked with beads and porcupine quills in vivid colors. Lovely, indeed, she looked as she returned to the house on her little snow-shoes, her face delicately flushed, her hands laden with her spoils. During the famine the habitants frequented Trois Saumons Lake in great numbers; they had beaten a hard road over the snow, which enabled Uncle Raoul to visit the lake on a sledge drawn by a huge dog. He always returned with an ample provision of trout and partridge. On such fare they got through the long winter. In the spring a veritable manna of wild pigeons came to the salvation of the colony; they were so innumerable that they could be knocked down with a stick.
When Captain D'Haberville returned to his seigneurie he was utterly ruined, having saved nothing but the family plate. He did not care to come down on his impoverished tenants for their arrearages of rent, but rather hastened to their aid by rebuilding his mill on the Trois Saumons River. In this mill he lived several years with his family, till able to build a new manor house.
A poor lodging, truly—three narrow chambers in a mill—for a family once so wealthy as the D'Habervilles! But they bore their misfortunes cheerfully. Only Captain D'Haberville, toiling with tireless energy, seemed unable to reconcile himself to his losses. His grief gnawed at his heart, and for six years there was never a smile upon his lips. It was not till the manor was rebuilt and the household restored to a certain degree of comfort and prosperity that he regained his native cheerfulness.