Without waiting for an answer from either, the young man threw himself down the grassy steps of the bastion, and moving rapidly across the parade, he was quickly in the presence of their father. Munro was pacing his narrow apartment with a disturbed air and gigantic strides as Duncan entered.
“You have anticipated my wishes, Major Heyward,” he said; “I was about to request this favor.”
“I am sorry to see, sir, that the messenger I so warmly recommended has returned in custody of the French! I hope there is no reason to distrust his fidelity?”
“The fidelity of ‘The Long Rifle’ is well known to me,” returned Munro, “and is above suspicion; though his usual good fortune seems, at last, to have failed. Montcalm has got him, and with the accursed polite-ness of his nation, he has sent him in with a doleful tale, of ’knowing how I valued the fellow, he could not think of retaining him.‘ A jesuitical way, that, Major Duncan Heyward, of telling a man of his misfortunes!”
“But the general and his succor?”
“Did ye look to the south as ye entered, and could ye not see them?” said the old soldier, laughing bitterly. “Hoot! hoot! you’re an impatient boy, sir, and cannot give the gentlemen leisure for their march!”
“They are coming, then? The scout has said as much?”
“When? and by what path? for the dunce has omitted to tell me this. There is a letter, it would seem, too; and that is the only agreeable part of the matter. For the customary attentions of your Marquis of Montcalm—I warrant me, Duncan, that he of Lothianaq would buy a dozen such marquisates—but, if the news of the letter were bad, the gentility of this French monsieur would certainly compel him to let us know it.”
“He keeps the letter, then, while he releases the messenger!”
“Ay, that does he, and all for the sake of what you call your ‘bonhom mie.’ I would venture, if the truth was known, the fellow’s grandfather taught the noble science of dancing.”
“But what says the scout? he has eyes and ears, and a tongue: what verbal report does he make?”
“O! sir, he is not wanting in natural organs, and he is free to tell all that he has seen and heard. The whole amount is this: there is a fort of his majesty’s on the banks of the Hudson, called Edward, in honor of his gracious highness of York,ar you’ll know; and it is well filled with armed men, as such a work should be.”
“But was there no movement, no signs of any intention to advance to our relief?”
“There were the morning and evening parades; and when one of the provincial loons—you’ll know, Duncan, you’re half a Scotsman yourself—when one of them dropped his powder over his porretch, if it touched the coals, it just burnt!” Then suddenly changing his bitter, ironical manner, to one more grave and thoughtful, he continued; “and yet there might, and must be, something in that letter which it would be well to know!”
“Our decision should be speedy,” said Duncan, gladly availing himself of this change of humor, to press the more important objects of their interview; “I cannot conceal from you, sir, that the camp will not be much longer tenable; and I am sorry to add, that things appear no better in the fort; more than half the guns are bursted.”
“And how should it be otherwise? Some were fished from the bottom of the lake; some have been rusting in the woods since the discovery of the country; and some were never guns at all—mere privateersmen’s play-things! Do you think, sir, you can have Woolwich Warrenas in the midst of a wilderness, three thousand miles from Great Britain!”
“The walls are crumbling about our ears, and provisions begin to fail us,” continued Heyward, without regarding this new burst of indignation; “even the men show signs of discontent and alarm.”
“Major Heyward,” said Munro, turning to his youthful associate with the dignity of his years and superior rank; “I should have served his majesty for half a century, and earned these gray hairs, in vain, were I ignorant of all you say, and of the pressing nature of our circumstances; still, there is everything due to the honor of the king’s arms and something to ourselves. While there is hope of succor, this fortress will I defend, though it be to be done with pebbles gathered on the lake shore. It is a sight of the letter, therefore, that we want, that we may know the intentions of the man the Earl of Loudon has left among us as his substitute.”at
“And can I be of service in the matter?”
“Sir, you can; the Marquis of Montcalm has, in addition to his other civilities, invited me to a personal interview between the works and his own camp; in order, as he says, to impart some additional information. Now, I think it would not be wise to show any undue solicitude to meet him, and I would employ you, an officer of rank, as my substitute; for it would but ill comport with the honor of Scotland to let it be said one of her gentlemen was outdone in civility by a native of any other country on earth.”
Without assuming the supererogatory task of entering into a discussion of the comparative merits of national courtesy, Duncan cheerfully assented to supply the place of the veteran in the approaching interview. A long and confidential communication now succeeded, during which the young man received some additional insight into his duty, from the experience and native acuteness of his commander, and then the former took his leave.
As Duncan could only act as the representative of the commandant of the fort, the ceremonies which should have accompanied a meeting between the heads of the adverse forces were of course dispensed with. The truce still existed, and with a roll and beat of the drum, and covered by a little white flag, Duncan left the sallyport, within ten minutes after his instructions were ended. He was received by the French officer in advance with the usual formalities, and immediately accompanied to a distant marquee of the renowned soldier who led the forces of France.
The general of the enemy received the youthful messenger, surrounded by his principal officers, and by a swarthy band of the native chiefs, who had followed him to the field, with the warriors of their several tribes. Heyward paused short, when, in glancing his eyes rapidly over the dark group of the latter, he beheld the malignant countenance of Magua, regarding him with the calm but sullen attention which marked the expression of that subtle savage. A slight exclamation of surprise even burst from the lips of the young man; but instantly recollecting his errand, and the presence in which he stood, he suppressed every appearance of emotion, and turned to the hostile leader, who had already advanced a step to receive him.
The Marquis of Montcalm was, at the period of which we write, in the flower of his age, and it may be added, in the zenith of his fortunes. But, even in that enviable situation, he was affable, and distinguished as much for his attention to the forms of courtesy, as for that chivalrous courage which, only two short years afterwards, induced him to throw away his life on the plains of Abraham.au Duncan, in turning his eyes from the malign expression of Magua, suffered them to rest with pleasure on the smiling and polished features, and the noble military air, of the French general.
“Monsieur,” said the latter, “j‘ai beaucoup de plaisir à—bah!—où est cet interprête?”
“Je crois, monsieur, qu‘il ne sera pas nécessaire,” Heyward modestly replied; “je parle un peu Français.”
“Ah! j‘en suis bien aise,” said Montcalm, taking Duncan familiarly by the arm, and leading him deep into the marquee, a little out of ear-shot; “je déteste ces fripons-la; on ne sait jamais sur quel pié on est avec eux. Eh, bien! monsieur,” he continued, still speaking in French; “though I should have been proud of receiving your commandant, I am very happy that he has seen proper to employ an officer so distinguished, and who, I am sure, is so amiable, as yourself.”
Duncan bowed low, pleased with the compliment, in spite of a most heroic determination to suffer no artifice to allure him into forgetfulness of the interest of his prince; and Montcalm, after a pause of a moment, as if to recollect his thoughts, proceeded,—
“Your commandant is a brave man, and well qualified to repel my assault. Ma
is, monsieur, is it not time to begin to take more counsel of humanity, and less of your courage? The one as strongly characterizes the hero as the other.”
“We consider the qualities as inseparable,” returned Duncan, smiling; “but while we find in the vigor of your excellency every motive to stimulate the one, we can, as yet, see no particular call for the exercise of the other.”
Montcalm, in his turn, slightly bowed, but it was with the air of a man too practised to remember the language of flattery. After musing a moment, he added,—
“It is possible my glasses have deceived me, and that your works resist our cannon better than I had supposed. You know our force?”
“Our accounts vary,” said Duncan, carelessly; “the highest, however, has not exceeded twenty thousand men.”
The Frenchman bit his lip, and fastened his eyes keenly on the other as if to read his thoughts; then, with a readiness peculiar to himself, he continued, as if assenting to the truth of an enumeration which quite doubled his army,—
“It is a poor compliment to the vigilance of us soldiers, monsieur, that, do what we will, we never can conceal our numbers. If it were to be done at all, one would believe it might succeed in these woods. Though you think it too soon to listen to the calls of humanity,” he added, smiling archly, “I may be permitted to believe that gallantry is not forgotten by one so young as yourself. The daughters of the commandant, I learn, have passed into the fort since it was invested?”
“It is true, monsieur; but, so far from weakening our efforts, they set us an example of courage in their own fortitude. Were nothing but resolution necessary to repel so accomplished a soldier as M. de Montcalm, I would gladly trust the defence of William Henry to the elder of those ladies.”
“We have a wise ordinance in our Salique laws,av which says, ‘The crown of France shall never degrade the lance to the distaff,’ ”aw said Montcalm, dryly, and with a little hauteur; but instantly adding, with his former frank and easy air, “as all the nobler qualities are hereditary, I can easily credit you; though, as I said before, courage has its limits, and humanity must not be forgotten. I trust, monsieur, you come authorized to treat for the surrender of the place?”
“Has your excellency found our defence so feeble as to believe the measure necessary?”
“I should be sorry to have the defence protracted in such a manner as to irritate my red friends there,” continued Montcalm, glancing his eyes at the group of grave and attentive Indians, without attending to the other’s question; “I find it difficult, even now, to limit them to the usages of war.”
Heyward was silent; for a painful recollection of the dangers he had so recently escaped came over his mind, and recalled the images of those defenceless beings who had shared in all his sufferings.
“Ces messieurs-là,” said Montcalm, following up the advantage which he conceived he had gained, “are most formidable when baffled: and it is unnecessary to tell you with what difficulty they are restrained in their anger. Eh bien, monsieur! shall we speak of the terms?”
“I fear your excellency has been deceived as to the strength of William Henry, and the resources of its garrison!”
“I have not sat down before Quebec, but an earthen work, that is defended by twenty-three hundred gallant men,” was the laconic reply.
“Our mounds are earthen, certainly—nor are they seated on the rocks of Cape Diamond;ax but they stand on that shore which proved so destructive to Dieskau and his army. There is also a powerful force within a few hours’ march of us, which we account upon as part of our means.”
“Some six or eight thousand men,” returned Montcalm, with much apparent indifference, “whom their leader wisely judges to be safer in their works than in the field.”
It was now Heyward’s turn to bite his lip with vexation, as the other so coolly alluded to a force which the young man knew to be overrated. Both mused a little while in silence, when Montcalm renewed the conversation, in a way that showed he believed the visit of his guest was solely to propose terms of capitulation. On the other hand, Heyward began to throw sundry inducements in the way of the French general, to betray the discoveries he had made through the intercepted letter. The artifice of neither, however, succeeded; and after a protracted and fruitless interview, Duncan took his leave, favorably impressed with an opinion of the courtesy and talents of the enemy’s captain, but as ignorant of what he came to learn as when he arrived. Montcalm followed him as far as the entrance of the marquee, renewing his invitations to the commandant of the fort to give him an immediate meeting in the open ground, between the two armies.
There they separated, and Duncan returned to the advanced post of the French, accompanied as before; whence he instantly proceeded to the fort, and to the quarters of his own commander.
CHAPTER XVI
“Edg.—Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.”
KING LEAR.
Major Heyward found Munro attended only by his daughters. Alice sat upon his knee, parting the gray hairs on the forehead of the old man with her delicate fingers; and, whenever he affected to frown on her trifling, appeasing his assumed anger by pressing her ruby lips fondly on his wrinkled brow. Cora was seated nigh them, a calm and amused looker-on; regarding the wayward movements of her more youthful sister, with that species of maternal fondness which characterized her love for Alice. Not only the dangers through which they had passed, but those which still impended above them, appeared to be momentarily forgotten, in the soothing indulgence of such a family meeting. It seemed as if they had profited by the short truce, to devote an instant to the purest and best affections: the daughters forgetting their fears, and the veteran his cares, in the security of the moment. Of this scene, Duncan, who in his eagerness to report his arrival had entered unannounced, stood many moments an unobserved and a delighted spectator. But the quick and dancing eyes of Alice soon caught a glimpse of his figure reflected from a glass, and she sprang blushing from her father’s knee, exclaiming aloud,—
“Major Heyward!”
“What of the lad?” demanded the father; “I have sent him to crack a little with the Frenchman. Ha! sir, you are young, and you’re nimble! Away with you, ye baggage; as if there were not troubles enough for a soldier, without having his camp filled with such prattling hussies as yourself?”
Alice laughingly followed her sister, who instantly led the way from an apartment where she perceived their presence was no longer desirable. Munro, instead of demanding the result of the young man’s mission, paced the room for a few moments, with his hands behind his back, and his head inclined towards the floor, like a man lost in thought. At length he raised his eyes, glistening with a father’s fondness, and exclaimed,—
“They are a pair of excellent girls, Heyward, and such as any one may boast of.”
“You are not now to learn my opinion of your daughters, Colonel Munro.”
“True, lad, true,” interrupted the impatient old man; “you were about opening your mind more fully on that matter the day you got in; but I did not think it becoming in an old soldier to be talking of nuptial blessings and wedding jokes when the enemies of his king were likely to be unbidden guests at the feast! But I was wrong, Duncan, boy, I was wrong there; and I am now ready to hear what you have to say.”
“Notwithstanding the pleasure your assurance gives me, dear sir, I have just now a message from Montcalm—”
“Let the Frenchman and all his host go to the devil, sir?” exclaimed the hasty veteran. “He is not yet master of William Henry, nor shall he ever be, provided Webb proves himself the man he should. No, sir! thank Heaven, we are not yet in such a strait that it can be said Munro is too much pressed to discharge the little domestic duties of his own family. Your mother was the only child of my bosom friend, Duncan; and I’ll just give you a hearing, though all the knights of St. Louisay were in a body at the sally-port, with the French saint at their head, craving to speak a word under favor. A pretty degree of knighthood, sir, i
s that which can be bought with sugar-hogsheads! and then your two-penny marquisates! The thistle is the orderaz for dignity and antiquity; the veritable nemo me impune lacessit‡ of chivalry! Ye had ancestors in that degree, Duncan, and they were an ornament to the nobles of Scotland.”
Heyward, who perceived that his superior took a malicious pleasure in exhibiting his contempt for the message of the French general, was fain to humor a spleen that he knew would be short-lived; he therefore replied with as much indifference as he could assume on such a subject,—
“My request, as you know, sir, went so far as to presume to the honor of being your son.”
“Ay, boy, you found words to make yourself very plainly comprehended. But, let me ask ye, sir, have you been as intelligible to the girl?”
“On my honor, no,” exclaimed Duncan, warmly; “there would have been an abuse of a confided trust, had I taken advantage of my situation for such a purpose.”
“Your notions are those of a gentleman, Major Heyward, and well enough in their place. But Cora Munro is a maiden too discreet, and of a mind too elevated and improved, to need the guardianship even of a father.”
“Cora!”
“Ay—Cora! we are talking of your pretensions to Miss Munro, are we not, sir?”
“I—I—I was not conscious of having mentioned her name,” said Duncan, stammering.
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