Cameron of Lochiel
but of athletic build, is a follower of Captain D'Haberville, Jules's
father. In times of war, a soldier; in peace, he occupies the place of
a favored servant. He is the captain's foster-brother and of the same
age. He is the right hand of the family. He has rocked Jules in his
arms, singing him the gay catches of our up-river boatmen.
"Dear José, how are you? How have you left them all at home?" cried
Jules, flinging his arms about him.
"All well enough, thank God," replied Jose; "they send you all kinds o'
love, and are in a great way to see you. But how you have grown in the
last few months! Lord! Master Jules, but it is good to set eyes on you
again."
In spite of the familiar affection lavished upon José by the whole
D'Haberville family, he never forgot to be scrupulously respectful.
Jules overwhelms him with eager inquiries. He asks about the
servants, about the neighbors, and about the old dog whom, when in
his thirty-sixth lesson, he had christened _Niger_ to display his
proficiency in Latin. He has forgiven even the greedy cat who, the year
before, had gobbled up a young pet nightingale which he had intended to
take to college with him. In the first heat of his wrath, it is true,
he had hunted the assassin with a club, under tables, chairs, and beds,
and finally on to the roof itself, which the guilty animal had sought
as an impregnable refuge. Now, however, he has forgiven the creature's
misdeeds and makes tender inquiry after its health.
"Hello there!" grumbles the ferryman, who takes very little interest in
the above scenes, "when you have done slobbering and chattering about
the cat and dog, perhaps you'll make a move. The tide won't wait for
nobody."
In spite of the impatience and ill-humor of the ferryman, it took long
to say farewell. Their instructors embraced them affectionately.
"You are to be soldiers, both of you", said the principal. "In daily
peril of your life upon the battle-field, you must keep God ever
before you. It may be the will of Heaven that you fall. Be ready,
therefore, at all times, that you may go before the judgment-seat with
a clear conscience. Take this for your battle-cry--'God, the King, and
Fatherland!'"
"Farewell!" exclaimed Archie--"you who have opened your hearts to the
stranger. Farewell, kind friends, who have striven to make the poor
exile forget that he belonged to an alien race. Farewell, perhaps
forever."
"This parting would be hard indeed for me," said Jules, deeply moved,
"had I not the hope that my regiment will soon be ordered to Canada."
Then, turning to his instructors, he said:
"I have tried your patience sorely, gentlemen, but you know that my
heart has always been better than my head; I beg that you will forgive
the one for the sake of the other.--As for you, my fellow-students," he
continued, with a lightness that was somewhat forced, "you must admit
that, if I have tormented you sadly with my nonsense during the last
ten years, I have at least succeeded in sometimes making you laugh."
Seizing Archie by the arm, he hurried him off in order to conceal his
emotion.
We may leave our travelers now to cross the St. Lawrence, and rejoin
them a little later at Point Lévis.
+The Author.+
CAMERON OF LOCHIEL
CHAPTER I.
D'HABERVILLE AND CAMERON OF LOCHIEL.
Give me, oh! give me back the days
When I--I too--was young,
And felt, as they now feel, each coming hour,
New consciousness of power....
The fields, the grove, the air was haunted,
And all that age has disenchanted....
Give me, oh! give youth's passions unconfined,
The rush of joy that felt almost like pain.
+Goethe.+
Archibald Cameron of Lochiel, son of a Highland chief who had wedded
a daughter of France, was but four years old when he lost his mother.
Brought up by his father, who was, in the language of the Scriptures,
a valiant hunter in the sight of God, ever since ten years old he had
followed him in the chase of the roebuck and other wild beasts, scaling
the highest mountains, swimming the icy torrents, making his couch on
the wet sod with no covering but his plaid, no roof but the vault of
heaven. Under such a Spartan training the boy came to find his chief
delight in this wild and wandering life.
When Archie was but twelve years old, in the year 1745, his father
joined the standard of that unhappy young prince who, after the
old romantic fashion, threw himself into the arms of his Scottish
countrymen, and called upon them to win him back a crown which the
bloody field of Culloden forced him to renounce forever.
In the early days of this disastrous struggle, courage was triumphant
over numbers and discipline, and their mountains re-echoed to their
outmost isles the songs of victory. The enthusiasm was at its height.
The victory seemed already won. But short-lived was their triumph.
After achievements of most magnificent heroism they were forced to bow
their necks to defeat. Lochiel shared the fate of the many brave whose
blood reddened the heather on Culloden.
An uncle of Archie's, who had also followed the standard and fortunes
of the unhappy prince, had the good fortune, after the disaster of
Culloden, to save his head from the scaffold. Through a thousand
perils, over a thousand obstacles, he made good his flight to France
with his orphan nephew. The old gentleman, ruined in fortune and under
sentence of banishment, was having a hard struggle to support himself
and his charge, when a Jesuit, an uncle of the boy on his mother's
side, undertook a share of the burden. Archie was sent to the Jesuits'
College in Quebec. Having completed a thorough course in mathematics,
he is leaving college when the reader makes his acquaintance.
Archibald Cameron of Lochiel, whom the harsh hand of misfortune had
brought to an early maturity, knew not at first what to make of a boy
noisy, troublesome and mocking, who seemed the despair alike of masters
and students. To be sure, the boy had not all the fun on his own side.
Out of twenty canings and impositions bestowed upon his class, Jules
D'Haberville was sure to pocket at least nineteen for his share.
It must be acknowledged, also, that the older pupils, driven to the
end of their patience, bestowed upon him sometimes more knocks than
nuts; but you would have thought the youngster regarded all this as an
encouragement, so ready was he to resume his tricks. We may add that
Jules, without being vindictive, never wholly overlooked an injury.
In one way or another he always made matters even. His satire, his
home thrusts, which could bring a flush to the face of even the most
self-possessed, served his purpose very effectually with the masters or
with those larger students whom he could not otherwise reach.
He had adopted it as his guiding principle, that he would never
acknowledge himself beaten; and it was necessary, therefore, for his
opponents, when weary of war, to make him proposals of peace.
The reader will doubtless conclude that the boy was cordially disliked;
on the contrary, every one was fond of him; he was the pet of the
college. The truth is, Jules had such a heart as pulses all too rarely
in the breast of man. To say that he was generous to a fault, that he
was ever ready to defend the absent, to sacrifice himself in order to
conceal the faults of others, would not give an adequate description of
his character. The following incident will reveal him more effectively:
When he was about twelve years old, a senior student got out of
patience and kicked him; with no intention, however, of hurting him
much. It was contrary to Jules's code of honor to carry complaints to
the masters. He contented himself with replying to his assailant: "You
are too thick-headed, you big brute, for me to waste any sarcasm on
you. You would not understand it. One must pierce your hide in some
other way; but be patient, you will lose nothing by waiting!"
After rejecting certain more or less ingenious schemes of vengeance,
Jules resolved to catch his enemy asleep and shave his eyebrows--a
punishment which would be easy to inflict, as Dubuc, the youth who had
kicked him, was a mighty heavy sleeper. This plan had the further
advantage of touching him on a most sensitive point, for he was a
handsome fellow and a good deal of a dandy.
Jules had just decided on this revenge, when he heard Dubuc say to one
of his friends, who had rallied him on looking gloomy:
"Indeed, I have good reason to be, for I expect my father to-morrow. I
have got into debt with the shop-keepers, hoping that my mother would
come to Quebec ahead of him, and would relieve me without his knowing
anything about it. Father is close-fisted and violent. He will probably
strike me in the first heat of his anger; and I don't know where to
hide my head. I have a mind to run away until the storm is over."
"Oh," said Jules, "why don't you let me help you out of the scrape?"
"The devil you say!" exclaimed Dubuc, shaking his head.
"Why," said Jules, "do you think that on account of a kick, more or
less, I would leave a fellow-student in a scrape and exposed to the
violence of his amiable papa? To be sure, you almost broke my back, but
that is another affair, which we will settle later. How much cash do
you want?"
"My dear fellow," answered Dubuc, "that would be abusing your kindness.
I need a large sum, and I know you are not in funds just now; for you
emptied your purse to help that poor woman whose husband was killed the
other day."
"A pretty story," said Jules. "As if one could not always find money
to save a friend from the wrath of a father who is going to break his
neck! How much do you want?"
"Fifty francs!"
"You shall have them this evening," said the boy.
Jules, an only son, belonging to a rich family, indulged by everybody,
had his pockets always full of money. Father and mother, uncles and
aunts, godfathers and godmothers, they all kept loudly proclaiming that
boys should not have too much money to spend. At the same time they
outdid each other in surreptitiously supplying his purse!
Dubuc, however, had spoken truly; the boy's purse was empty for the
moment. Fifty francs was, moreover, quite a sum in those days. The King
of France was paying his red allies only fifty francs for an English
scalp. His Britannic Majesty, richer or more generous, was paying a
hundred for the scalp of a Frenchman!
Jules did not care to apply to his uncles and his aunts, the only
relations he had in the city. His first thought was to borrow fifty
francs by pawning his gold watch, which was worth at least twenty-five
louis. Revolving the matter, however, he bethought himself of a certain
old woman, a servant of the house, whom his father had dowered at her
marriage, and to whom he had afterward advanced enough money to set
her up in business. The business had prospered in her hands. She was a
widow, rich and childless.
There were difficulties to surmount, however. The old dame was rather
avaricious and crusty; and on the occasion of Jules's last visit they
had not parted on the best terms possible. She had even chased him
into the street with a broomstick. The boy had done nothing more,
however, than play her a little trick. He had given her pet spaniel a
dose of snuff, and when the old lady ran to the help of her dog, who
was conducting himself like a lunatic, he had emptied the rest of the
snuff-box into a dandelion salad which she was carefully picking over
for her supper.
"Hold on, mother," he cried, as he ran away, "there is a good seasoning
for you."
Jules saw that it was very necessary to make his peace with the good
dame, and hence these preliminaries. He threw his arms about her neck
on entering, in spite of the old woman's attempt to shield herself from