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The King's Warrant: A Story of Old and New France

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by Alfred H. Engelbach


  CHAPTER V.

  At sunrise on the following morning Isidore and his guide started forChambly. Happily, Amoahmeh was still asleep. Accustomed as she was tothe woods, the great distance they had traversed on the preceding day,and perhaps the excitement she had undergone, had told on her slightframe, and nature had insisted on her claim to a longer rest thanusual. What the poor child's feelings may have been when she awoke andfound herself once more alone in the world who shall say? Possibly theunwonted exercise of some still active faculties the day before haddulled her sensibility, for outwardly, at least, she seemed to haveforgotten all the past, and went about as though she had never knownany other home, and as though the strange faces that she saw around herhad looked upon her all her life. But the earnest yet plaintivelyuttered, "Where are they?" no longer fell from her lips. It had beenanswered, and amid the darkness that enveloped that young loving soul,it may well be that there was one glimmering ray of light that keptsome smouldering embers of reason still alive.

  Isidore's mission was completed without further adventure, and afterdelivering his despatches at Chambly, and reporting to the commandantthe particulars he had noted on his way thither, in conformity withGeneral Montcalm's directions, he was ordered to proceed to Quebec onanother service. This journey, although of about the same length asthe previous one, was a much more easy affair, and was performed bywater. Boulanger, however, who was now on his way home, still acted asguide, and day by day won more and more upon Isidore by his readinessand intelligence, and probably--though the young marquis might havebeen unwilling to own it--by his honest frankness and his outspokendislike of everything mean and underhand. Even his remarks on passingevents were listened to with a forbearance which they would hardly havemet with from the Isidore de Beaujardin of a week ago.

  In a few days Isidore and his guide reached Quebec, and there,notwithstanding the little occasional skirmishes that had taken placebetween them, they parted with regret, and with cordial expressions ofgood-will. The young soldier had had opportunity enough to see andappreciate the honest character of the Canadian, whilst the latter hadbeen still more struck with the condescension as well as by the courageand endurance of the young noble, of whose high rank he was well aware,and whose almost necessarily courteous manner, even to his inferiors,formed a strong contrast to the overbearing and arbitrary behaviour ofthe Government officials with whom he generally had to deal.

  Isidore's first proceeding was to report himself and deliver hisdespatches, on doing which he learned that although the intelligence ofthe capture of Oswego had arrived, no details had as yet been received,nor had his uncle, the Baron de Valricour, as yet reached Quebec. Itwas consequently not without hesitation that he made his way to thehouse of Madame de Rocheval, the lady with whom the daughter of CaptainLacroix was staying.

  Isidore had never seen Marguerite Lacroix, but he took it for grantedthat it was she who, on his being shown into the drawing-room, rosefrom her embroidery frame to receive him.

  "I am sorry, monsieur," said she, "that Madame de Rocheval is not athome. You have, doubtless, heard that news has been received ofGeneral Montcalm's having captured Oswego. Madame de Rocheval has abrother in one of the regiments about whom she is anxious, and myfather, Captain Lacroix, who is quartered at Montreal, has not writteneither to me or to her for some time, so she has gone to the adjutant'soffice to----"

  Here she paused; she would probably not have thought it necessary tooffer all this explanation, but that her visitor seemed awkward andembarrassed, and she had continued speaking out of politeness. Shestopped suddenly on perceiving, with a woman's quickness, that Isidorewas evidently agitated or unwell.

  "I beg your pardon, mademoiselle," said he, at last, but not withoutdifficulty, "I have just come from Oswego."

  "Indeed! Then you have passed through Montreal. Perhaps you have seenmy father? He is very intimate with Monsieur de Valricour, who, Ibelieve, is your uncle."

  "Yes, yes, that is true, but--I had hoped that you might have alreadyheard--that is, I did not suppose----" here Isidore stopped; and then,as he looked up and saw the half bewildered, half alarmed look thatcame over her face, he added, scarce audibly, "Now may God be mercifulto you, my dear young lady, for the news that I bring will----"

  "My father! my father!" was all that poor Marguerite could utter, as,with hands clasped together, she bent forward in an agony of suspense.

  "He is at rest, my dear young lady," said Isidore, with as muchcalmness as he could command. "He fell in the moment of victory, as abrave soldier like him would wish to do."

  Marguerite uttered a cry that went to Isidore's heart. He steppedforward just in time, for, had he not caught her in his arms, she wouldhave fallen to the ground insensible. At this moment they were joinedby Madame de Rocheval, who had returned in haste, having heard in thetown the news of Captain Lacroix's death; the fainting girl was carriedto her room, and Isidore, after hurriedly explaining to Madame deRocheval the circumstances that had brought him there, quitted thehouse, promising to call on the following day.

  On the morrow letters arrived from the Baron de Valricour, who had comedown from Oswego to Montreal, but was compelled to remain there. Theycontained the news of his friend's death, and also an assurance of hisintention to fulfil the promise which he had given to Marguerite'sfather. It remained for Isidore, however, to give to the poor orphangirl that which in this direst of all trials we all so earnestly yearnafter, the personal account of one who has himself seen the dear onelaid to his last rest, and to present to her the little relic he hadhimself meant to keep in memory of his fellow-soldier--theblood-stained strip of a flag in which, by Isidore's directions, theyhad carried the hero to his grave.

  After the lapse of another week Monsieur de Valricour was able toresume his journey and reach Quebec, when he took Marguerite under hisguardianship, arranging that she should stay with Madame de Rochevaluntil such time as he might be able to take her to France. He broughtwith him Isidore's appointment as one of the aides-de-camp to GeneralMontcalm, who, already prepossessed in his favour by his coolness andcourage at Oswego, had been particularly pleased with the report he hadsubsequently made on the line of country between Oswego and LakeChamplain.

  "How strange it is"--such was part of Isidore's musings as the next dayhe passed out of the old Porte St. Louis on his road to Montcalm'shead-quarters up the country--"how strange it is that one should feelsuch regret at parting from people like Madame Rocheval and that poorgirl, whom one never set eyes on till within a week or two! I daresay,too, that I shall never see them again. It seems a pity to makefriends, if only to part with them so soon, and perhaps forget themjust as quickly, or at all events only to be forgotten by them."

  Headpiece to Chapter VI]

 

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