Cameron of Lochiel
Blanche and her brother were the only ones who could do what they liked
with her. Though Jules often tormented her sorely, she was always
ready to laugh at his tricks and shield him from their consequences.
Tried beyond all patience, M. D'Haberville had long ago given her her
freedom; but, to use her own words, "she laughed at his emancipation
like that," snapping her fingers, "for she had as good a right as he
and his to remain in the house where she had been brought up." If her
master, too utterly exasperated, would dismiss her by one door, she
would promptly re-enter by the other.
This irrepressible woman was as much affected by the misfortunes of her
master as if she had been a daughter of the family; and, strange to
say, during all the years when the captain was immersed in bitterness
and gloom, she was a model of obedience and submission, and did the
work of at least two servants. When she was alone with Blanche she
would sometimes throw herself sobbing on her neck, and the brave girl
would forget her own griefs in comforting those of the slave. It is
necessary to add that when prosperity returned to the family Lisette
became as willful as before.
Leaving the kitchen, Lochiel ran to meet José, who came singing up from
the garden, laden with fruit and vegetables.
"Excuse me if I give you my left hand," said José; "I left the other
behind me on the Plains of Abraham. I bear no grudge, however, against
the 'short petticoat' (begging your pardon) who relieved me of it.
The thing was done so neatly right at the joint that the surgeon had
nothing left to do but bandage up the stump. We came off about quits,
nevertheless, the 'short petticoat' and I, for I ran my bayonet through
his body. It's just as well after all, however, for what use would my
right hand be to me when there is no more fighting? No more war now
that the Englishman is master of the land," added José, sighing.
"It seems, my dear José," answered Lochiel, laughing, "that you know
pretty well how to do without your right hand as long as the left
remains to you."
"Very true," said José. "I can manage when I'm driven to it, as in the
scrimmage with the 'short petticoat'; but I confess that it grieves me
to be thus crippled. Both hands would have been none too many to serve
my master with. The times have been hard, indeed; but, thank God, the
worst is over." And tears welled up in the faithful José's eyes.
Lochiel then betook himself to the harvesters, who were busy raking the
hay and loading the carts. They were all old acquaintances, who greeted
him warmly for all the family, the captain excepted, had been at pains
to exonerate him. The dinner, served with the greatest simplicity, was
nevertheless lavish in its abundance, thanks to the game with which
shore and forest were swarming at this season. The silver had been
reduced to the limits of strict necessity; besides the spoons, forks,
and drinking-cups, there remained but a single jug of ancient pattern,
graven with the D'Haberville arms, to attest the former opulence of the
family. The dessert consisted of the fruits of the season, brought in
on maple leaves, in birch-bark _cassots_ and baskets ingeniously woven
by the Indians. A little glass of black-currant ratafia before dinner
to sharpen the appetite, spruce beer made out of the branches of the
tree, and Spanish wine which they drank much tempered with water, these
were the only liquors that the hospitality of Seigneur D'Haberville
could set before his guest. This did not prevent the meal from being
pervaded with kindly gayety; the family seemed to be entering upon a
new life. But for his dread of wounding Archie, Captain D'Haberville
would not have failed to joke upon the absence of champagne, which was
replaced by the sparkling spruce beer.
"Now that we are _en famille_," said the captain, smiling at Archie,
"let us talk of the future of my son. As for me, old and worn out
before my time with the fatigues of war, I have a good excuse for not
serving the new government. It would not be for me, moreover, at my
age, to draw the sword against France, whom I have served for more than
thirty years. Rather death, a hundred times!"
"And, like Hector the Trojan," interrupted Uncle Raoul, "we can all say:
_Si Pergama dextra
Defendi possent, etiam hâc defensa fuissent_."
"Never mind Hector the Trojan," exclaimed M. D'Haberville who, not
being as learned as his brother, had small taste for his quotations.
"Never mind Hector the Trojan, who was not greatly concerned with
our family affairs. Let us return to Jules. His health compels him
to withdraw from the service, perhaps for a long time, or even
permanently. His dearest interests are here where he was born. Canada
is his true fatherland. He can not have the same affection for the
land of his ancestors. His position, moreover, is very different from
mine. What would be cowardice for me, standing on the edge of the tomb,
is but an act of duty for him who is but on the threshold of life.
Splendidly has he paid his debt to the country of his fathers. He
retires honorably from a service which the doctors order him to leave.
Now let him consecrate his energy and his abilities to the service of
his fellow Canadians. The new governor is already well disposed toward
us. He welcomes those of my countrymen who have intercourse with him.
He has many times expressed his sympathy for the brave officers whom
he had met face to face on the battle-field, and whom fate, not their
courage, had betrayed. In the gatherings at Chateau St. Louis he shows
the same regard for Canadians as for his own countrymen, as much for
those of us who have lost all as for those more fortunate who can
maintain a dignity suitable to their rank. Under his administration and
supported by the strong recommendations which our friend Lochiel has
procured for him, Jules has every reason to hope for a high position in
the colony. Let him take the oath of allegiance to the English crown;
and my last words when I bid him a final farewell shall be: 'Serve your
English sovereign with the same zeal, devotion, and loyalty with which
I have served the French King, and receive my blessing.'"
Every one was struck by this sudden change of sentiment in the head of
the family. They forgot that Adversity is a hard master, who bends the
most stubborn heart beneath his grasp of steel. Captain D'Haberville,
too proud and too loyal to acknowledge openly that Louis XV had
wronged the subjects who had served him with a heroism so devoted,
nevertheless, felt keenly the ingratitude of the French court. Although
stung to the quick by such treatment, he was ready to shed the last
drop of his blood for this voluptuous monarch given over to the whims
of his mistresses. But there his devotion ceased. He would have refused
for himself the favors of the new government; but he was too just to
sacrifice his son's future to a sentiment with so slight a basis.
"Let each one now express his opinion freely," said the captain,
smiling, "and let the majority decide." The ladies answered this appeal
by throwing themselves into his arms. Uncle Raoul seized his brother's
hand, shook it vigorously, and exclaimed:
"Nestor of old could not have spoken more wisely."
"Nor could we have been more delighted," said Archie, "if we had had
the advantage of listening to the very words of that most venerable
Grecian."
As the tide was full and the river beautifully calm, Archie proposed
to Blanche a walk along the lovely shore, which stretches--varied with
sandy coves--from the manor to the little Port-Joli River.
"Everything I see," said Archie, as they moved along the river's edge,
the level rays of the sunset making a path of red gold from their
feet to the far-off mountains, "everything I see is rich with sweet
memories. Here, when you were a child, I taught you to play with the
shells which I picked up along this shore. In this little bay I taught
my brother Jules to swim. There are the same strawberry beds and
raspberry thickets whence we plucked the fruit you were so fond of.
Here, seated, book in hand, on this little rock, you used to wait the
return of Jules and me from hunting, to congratulate us on our success
or mock at our empty game-bags. Not a tree, a bush, a shrub, but looks
to me like an old and dear acquaintance. Oh, happy childhood, happy
youth! Ever rejoicing in the present, forgetful of the past, careless
of the future, life rolls along as gently as the current of this pretty
stream which we are now crossing. It was then that we were wise, Jules
and I, when our highest ambition was to pass our days together here,
happy in our work and our hunting."
"Just such a life of monotony and peace," interrupted Blanche, "is that
to which our sex is doomed. God in giving man strength and courage set
him apart for the loftier destinies. What must be the enthusiasm of a
man in the midst of the battle! What sight more sublime than that of
the soldier facing death a hundred times in the tumult for all he holds
most dear! What must be the fierce exultation of the warrior when the
bugles sound for victory!"
This noble girl knew of no glory but that of arms. Her father, almost
incessantly in the field, came back to the bosom of his family only to
rehearse the exploits of his comrades-in-arms; and Blanche, while yet a
child, had become steeped with martial ardor.
"There are triumphs all too dearly bought," answered Archie, "when
one considers the disasters that have followed in their train, when
one remembers the tears of the widow and the orphan, robbed of their
dearest! But here we are at the Port-Joli, well named, with its sunny
banks gay with wild-rose thickets, its groves of fir and spruce, and
its coverts of red willow. What memories cling about this lovely
stream! I see again your gentle mother and your good aunt seated
here on the grass on a fair evening in August, while we are paddling
up-stream, in our little green canoe, to Babin's Islet, keeping time
with our paddles as we sing in chorus the refrain of your pretty song:
We're afloat, we're afloat, on the water so blue,
We are bound for our isle of delight.
I hear again the voice of your mother calling repeatedly: 'Go and get
Blanche at once, you incorrigibles; it is supper-time, and you know
your father expects punctuality at meals.' And Jules would answer,
paddling with all his might, 'Do not fear my father's anger. I will
take the whole responsibility on my own shoulders. I will make him
laugh by telling him that, like His Majesty Louis XIV, he had expected
to wait. You know I am a spoiled child in the holidays.'"
"Dear fellow!" said Blanche, "he was sad enough that day when you and I
found him hiding in this fir grove, where he had concealed himself to
escape the first heat of father's indignation.
"And he had not done anything so very dreadful after all," said Archie,
laughing.
"Let us enumerate his crimes," replied Blanche, counting on her
fingers. "First, he had disobeyed father's orders by harnessing to
the carriage an unruly three-year-old filly which was scarcely to be
managed even in a sleigh. Secondly, after a hard tussle with the rash
young driver, the filly had taken the bit in her teeth, and as the
first proof of her freedom had crushed the unhappy cow belonging to our
neighbor Widow Maurice."
"A most happy accident for said widow," interposed Archie, "for
your father replaced the old animal with two of the finest heifers
in his pastures. I remember the anxiety of the poor woman when she
learned that some officious spectator had informed your father of the
accident. How does it happen that the people whom Jules tormented most
assiduously are just the ones who were most devoted to him? What is the