"You offend me, Captain de Lochiel! You have not considered the cruelty of the offer you are making me! Is it now you make me such a proposal, when the flames that you and yours have lighted in my unhappy country are hardly yet extinguished? Is it now, while the smoke yet rises from our ruined homes, that you offer me the hand of one of our destroyers? There would, indeed, be a bitter irony in lighting the marriage torch at the smoking ashes of my unhappy country! They would say, Captain de Lochiel, that your gold had bought the hand of the poor Canadian girl; and never will a D'Haberville endure such humiliation. O Archie! Archie! I would never have expected it of you, you the friend of my childhood! You know not what you are doing!" And Blanche burst into tears.
Never had the noble Canadian girl appeared so beautiful in Archie's eyes as now, when she rejected with proud disdain the hand of one of her country's conquerors.
"Calm yourself, Blanche," answered Lochiel. "I admire your patriotism. I appreciate the exalted delicacy of your sentiments, however unjust they may be toward the friend of your childhood. Never would a Cameron of Lochiel give offense to any lady, least of all to the sister of Jules D'Haberville, to the daughter of his benefactor. You know, Blanche, that I never act without due reflection. For you to reject with scorn the hand of an Englishman so soon after the conquest would be but natural in a D'Haberville; but as for me, Blanche, you know that I have loved you long—you could not be ignorant of it, in spite of my silence. The penniless young exile would have failed in every honorable sentiment had he declared his love for the daughter of his rich benefactor. Is it because I am rich now, is it because the chance of war has made us victorious in the struggle, is it because fate made of me an unwilling instrument of destruction, is it because of all this that I must bury in my heart one of the noblest emotions of our nature, and acknowledge myself defeated without an effort? No, Blanche, you surely can not think it; you have spoken without reflection; you regret the harsh words which have escaped you. Speak, Blanche, and say that you did not mean it."
"I will be candid with you, Archie," replied Blanche. "I will be as frank as a peasant girl who has studied neither her feelings nor her words—as a country girl who has forgotten the conventionalities of that society from which she has so long been banished—and I will speak with my heart upon my lips. You had all that could captivate a girl of fifteen years—noble birth, wit, beauty, strength, and a generous and lofty heart. What more could be needed to charm an enthusiastic girl? Archie, if the penniless young exile had asked my parents for my hand, and they had granted his request, I should have been proud and happy to obey. But, Captain de Lochiel, there is now a gulf between us which I will never cross." And again the girl's voice was choked with sobs.
"But I implore you, my brother Archie," continued she, taking his hand, "do not alter your intention of settling in Canada. Buy property in our neighborhood, so that we can see you continually. And if, in the ordinary course of nature (for you are eight years older than I), I should have the unhappiness to lose you, be sure that you would be mourned as bitterly by your sister Blanche as if she had been your wife. And now it is getting late, Archie, and we must return to the house," she added, pressing his hand affectionately between both of hers.
"You will never be so cruel toward me and toward yourself," cried Archie, "as to persist in this refusal! Yes, toward yourself, Blanche, for the love of a heart like yours does not die out like a common passion; it resists time and all vicissitudes. Jules will plead my cause on his return, and his sister will not refuse him his first request. Oh, tell me that I may hope!"
"Never, Archie, never," said Blanche. "The women of my family, as well as the men, have never failed in their duty—have never shrunk from any sacrifice, however painful. Two of my aunts, while yet very young, said one day to my father: 'You have no more than enough, D'Haberville, to maintain the dignity of the house. Our dowry would make a considerable breach in your means. To-morrow we shall enter a convent, where all is prepared to receive us.' Prayers, threats, the fury of my father—all proved vain; they entered the convent, where they have not wearied of good deeds to this day. As for me, Archie, I have other duties to perform—duties very dear to me. I must sweeten life as far as possible for my parents, must help them to forget their misfortunes, must care for them in their old age, and must close their eyes at the last. My brother Jules will marry; I will nurse his children, and share alike his good and evil fortune."
Lochiel and Blanche walked toward the house in silence. The last rays of the setting sun, mirrored in the swelling tide, lent a new charm to the enchanting scene; but to their eyes the loveliness of nature seemed to have suddenly faded out. The next day, toward evening, a favorable wind arose. The vessel which had brought Lochiel weighed anchor at once, and M. D'Haberville instructed José to convey his young friend to Quebec.
During the journey there was no lack of conversation between the two travelers; their subjects were inexhaustible. Toward five o'clock in the morning, however, as they were passing Beaumont, Lochiel said to José: