“I mean if it is decided our way,” he corrected. “You will come back?”
“Come back to what? You forget I am still a proscribed rebel with a price on my head.”
“But that is long past.”
“So Dr. Archie Cameron thought, but they hanged him like a dog not so many years ago, and I do not know that he was deeper in the affair than I. That I am not a very ardent rebel, I will confess; but I have grown too old in rebellion to shift my character readily. Besides, I fancy I am more of a Frenchman than an Englishman, or even a Scotchman; and the worst of such a transmogrification is, that one grows used to it, and change becomes wellnigh impossible. But you have chosen wisely, my boy. I wouldn't have you different for the world!”
“It is not for myself I speak. I am thinking of you, sir.”
“God bless you, Kit! I would rather have those words from you than a free pardon. And now good-night, or rather, good-day. You have your duties before you, and I must get some sleep;” and I embraced the generous boy with a full heart.
The next afternoon I set out to look over the town and mark the effect of the English fire during the bombardment, and could not but admire how destructive it had been, nor withhold my approval of the efforts the garrison had put forth during the past winter to repair the results of their own handiwork.
As I wandered round the Cape I caught sight of le père Jean leaning against the parapet of la batterie du Clergé, gloomily surveying the dismal prospect of a river full of drifting ice and a desolate and half-frozen country beyond.
He turned as I approached, and greeted me with a return of the manner that was once habitual with him. “I was glad to hear you found friends last night, Chevalier.”
“Thank you, yes. I found friends both new and old,” I answered, glancing at him curiously.