French and English: A Story of the Struggle in America

by Evelyn Everett-Green

  Chapter 4: The Fruits Of Victory.

  Wolfe lay upon a couch in a comfortable apartment, such as he hadnot inhabited since he set sail from England months ago. It was inthe citadel itself--in the heart of the King's Bastion, where theGovernor had his quarters.

  Wolfe had been the life and soul of the siege. To his genius andindomitable resolution the victory of the English arms had beenlargely due. He had forced himself to take the lead, and had toilednight and day in the crisis of the struggle and the final triumph;and even after the victors had marched in, his eyes seemed to beeverywhere, enforcing discipline, preventing any sort of disorderor licence amongst the soldiers, and sternly repressing thesmallest attempt on their part to plunder the townsfolk, or takethe slightest advantage of their helpless condition.

  He had specially seen to the condition of the sick and wounded,insuring them the same care as was given to the English in likecase. This had been one of the articles of the capitulation, but itwas one which was in like cases too often carelessly carried out,sometimes almost ignored.

  Wolfe with his own eyes saw that there was no shirking, nomismanagement here. He seemed to be everywhere at once during thosebusy days which followed the entrance into the town. But outragednature would have her revenge at last, and for three days he hadlain helpless and suffering in the room assigned to him in theGovernor's house, watched over and tended by Julian, who had bythis time come to have a very adequate idea as to the treatmentmost needed by him when those attacks came on.

  The cool of the evening had followed upon the heat of a very sultryday, which had greatly tried the sufferer. Wolfe looked up, and sawhis friend beside him, and smiled in recognition of his attentions.

  "You are always here, Julian; you must surely want rest yourself.You have been here night and day. I know it even though I may notseem to do so. But I shall be on my legs again soon. I can feelthat the access of pain is abating. How have things been going inthe town since I was laid by the heels?"

  "Oh well, several vessels with their load of prisoners have alreadysailed for England; many of the townsfolk and merchants havestarted, or are starting, for France; some regiments of our men areto be sent at once to reinforce General Abercromby. I fear by allaccounts that they will come too late to be of any real use for thecampaign this season. It is quite true that he suffered a crushingdefeat at Ticonderoga, due, as many of the officers say, to badgeneralship. Still he will doubtless be glad of support in thewilderness, wherever he may be. Humphrey is to start with the firstdetachment; he expects his orders for departure daily."

  Wolfe raised himself upon his elbow and sat up, despite hisweakness, fired by excitement and energy.

  "But Quebec, Quebec, Quebec!" he exclaimed; "surely we are goingforward to Quebec?"

  Julian shook his head doubtfully.

  "I fear me not at least this present season. I hear it said thatGeneral Amherst was ready, but that the Admiral was against it forthe present. They say there is still much to do in subduing theadjacent possessions of France in these lands, and so paving theway for the greater enterprise. Various officers are to be senthither and thither upon expeditions to small settlements, to uprootor destroy them. When this has been done, perhaps the move toQuebec will be made. But I fear me it will not be before nextyear."

  Wolfe made a gesture of irritation and impatience.

  "Have we not yet had enough of procrastination?" he questionedbitterly. "Will England never learn the lesson which her reversesshould have taught her? What boots the victory we have gained here,if it be not the stepping stone to lead us to Quebec?"

  "Who speaks of Quebec?" asked a clear, musical voice at thehalf-open door; and Julian sprang to his feet, exclaiming as he didso:

  "It is Madame Drucour! she has come every day to see and inquireafter you."

  Hearing the sound of her name, the lady pushed open the door andentered--a graceful, stately figure clothed all in black; herbeautiful face worn and pale, and trouble lurking in the depths ofher hazel eyes; yet calm and serene and noble of aspect as shemoved forward and held out a slim white hand to the patient.

  "You are better, Monsieur?" she asked, in her full, rich tones. "Itrust that the suffering is less than it was. The fever, I can see,has abated somewhat."

  Wolfe carried the hand he held to his lips. In common with all theofficers who had made her acquaintance, Wolfe had come to have avery high opinion of Madame Drucour.

  "I thank you, gracious lady, for your condescension in asking. Itrust soon to be restored to such measure of health and strength asI ever enjoy. At best I am but a cranky creature; but with quarterssuch as these I should be worse than ungrateful if I did not mend.I trust my presence here has caused you no inconvenience; for trulyI believe that I am in your house, and that I owe to you thecomforts I enjoy."

  She gave a strange little smile as she seated herself beside him.

  "In truth, Monsieur, I know not what I may call my own today. Thistown and fortress are now no longer ours, and we are but hereourselves on sufferance--prisoners of war--"

  "Nay, nay, not prisoners--not you, Madame," answered Wolfe hastily."We war not against women--least of all such noble ladies asyourself!"

  She acknowledged this speech by a little motion of the head, andthen continued, in a tone at once sorrowful and dignified: "Icannot separate myself from those amongst whom I have lived for solong. I acknowledge with gratitude the courtesy I have receivedfrom all. I know that my personal liberty is assured to me. But myheart will always be where there is need of help by my owncountrymen. If not a prisoner to the English, I am held in otherbonds."

  "Ah yes," answered Wolfe, with an answering sparkle in his eye;"that I understand well. We are all bound to our country in bondsthat cannot be severed. And yet we are bound to the common cause ofhumanity, and there we meet on common ground. We need not rememberanything else at such a time, Madame. We serve in one army there.Do not our wounded as well as your own bless the sight of your faceand the sound of your voice amongst them?"

  "And have they not cause to bless the name of that brave officerwho, in spite of his own weakness and suffering, would not restuntil he had seen in person that all were cared for--foes as wellas friends? Yes, truly, Monsieur, in one warfare we can stand uponthe same side, and fight the same battle against disease andsuffering and death. I would that this were the only kind ofwarfare that is known in the world!"

  "And I too--sometimes," replied Wolfe, lying back again on hispillows and looking dreamily out before him. "There are moments, itis true, when the battle fever works in a man's blood, and warseems to him then a glorious game. But it has its terrible andhateful side, as every soldier knows well. And yet the day seemsfar away when wars shall be no more."

  "Indeed yes," answered Madame Drucour, with a little sigh; "we havea sorrowful prospect before us yet. What was the word which I heardyou speak as I entered? Was it not of that projected march uponQuebec?"

  "It was," answered Wolfe frankly. "I may not deny, Madame, that thelonging of my heart at this moment is to try conclusions with yourgallant countrymen beneath the walls of Quebec."

  "You are bold, Monsieur," said Madame Drucour, with a little smile.

  "You know Quebec, Madame?"

  "Very well. It is there that I purpose going with my husband whenthe exchange is completed which gives him his liberty. I haverelatives there, and I go to be with them when duty may call myhusband elsewhere. If you come to Quebec, Monsieur, we mayperchance meet again."

  "It will be something happy to look forward to."

  "There is always joy in feeling that the foe we fight is a nobleand generous one. I shall tell in Quebec how the English General,though stern in his terms of capitulation, refused to me nothingthat I asked when once the town was given up, and how generously heand all his officers showed themselves, and in especialone--Brigadier Wolfe!"

  The young man bowed at the compliment.

  "And I, on my side, shall know that if Madame Drucour is within thewalls of Quebe
c, no garrison can fail to be gallant and devoted.Such an example before their eyes would put heart and heroism intothe most faint hearted."

  A very sincere liking grew up between Madame Drucour and her guestsbefore Wolfe was on his legs again, and able to return to hisquarters amongst his men. Indeed, his happiest hours were spent inthe company of that lady, for there was much to vex and try himwhen in the camp.

  There was to be no move upon Quebec that season and Wolfe chafedrather bitterly at the decision, and wrote to General Amherst instronger terms than most subordinate officers would have venturedto do. He even spoke of throwing up the service, if nothing were tobe done at such a critical time; but the General would not hear oflosing so valuable an officer, and indeed, in spite of theirritability sometimes engendered by his ill-health, Wolfe was toomuch the soldier at heart ever to abandon his calling.

  It was, however, rather hard to one of his ardent and chivalroustemperament, eager for the great blow to be struck against Quebec,to be deputed to harry and destroy a number of little fishingsettlements along the Gulf of St. Lawrence--which measure heconsidered a needless severity, and hated accordingly. It was arelief to him to know that Pitt, having heard of his severe bout ofillness after the taking of Louisbourg, had summoned him back toEngland to recruit his health.

  "When we have finished our great exploit of robbing fishermen oftheir nets and burning their huts, we will to England again,Julian; and you will come with me, my trusty comrade and friend. Ifwe are spreading the terror of England's name here, we are notadding to her laurels. Let me remain at home till there be realwarfare to accomplish, and then let me come out again. This task isodious and sickening to me. Were it not that another might showmore harshness and barbarity over it, I would e'en decline themission."

  Humphrey had already left Louisbourg for Philadelphia and thewestern frontier; but Julian had elected to remain with Wolfe, whohad come to depend upon him in no small measure. There wassomething in the temperaments of the two men which made themcongenial one to the other. Wolfe's restless irritability wassoothed by Julian's quiet calmness, and there was in both men astrain of ardent patriotism and self devotion which gave themsympathies in common.

  Together they set sail for England when the soldier's work wasdone, and after a fairly prosperous voyage they landed in thatcountry, and immediately started for Bath, where Wolfe hoped tofind relief from his rheumatic troubles, and gain the strengthwhich he had lost during this hard campaign.

  "I think my mother will be awaiting me there this time," he said,with a light in his eyes. "You have never seen my mother yet,Julian. Ah, how I long to see her again! she has been such a motherto me! There are times when I think if I have to give up thisprofession of arms, and take to a quiet life, I could have a veryhappy life at home with my mother. We suit each other so well, andwe are like each other in our foibles and weaknesses. I think Ihave inherited my cranky health from her, but not her beauty. Youwill see for yourself how little like her I am in that respect whenwe get home."

  To Julian, who had known nothing of the joys of home since he lefthis valley in the far south of the Western world, and who had nohome to call his own now, there was something touching in theeagerness of Wolfe to reach his home and his mother. His father wasnot likely to be there. He would almost certainly be either inKent, or else abroad; for he still held a command in the army, andthe war on the Continent was still raging furiously. But the motherwould be awaiting her son in the house he had written to ask her tosecure for him again. It was within easy reach of the town, and yetit was quiet and secluded, and suited his tastes and habits.

  It was almost dark one murky autumn evening when the lumberingcoach, which had conveyed the friends the last stages of theirjourney, drew up at the door of the house. Lights shone in thewindows, and from the open door there streamed out a glowing shaftof yellow light, bespeaking the warm welcome awaiting the tiredtraveller.

  Wolfe had been weary to the verge of exhaustion when they hadabandoned the attempt to ride the whole distance, and had securedthe heavy coach; but now he seemed to revive to new life, and hesprang from it with some of the activity of youth and strength.

  "Mother--there is my mother!" he exclaimed; and Julian saw him takethe steps two at a time, to meet the advancing greeting from themother who had come to welcome home her son.

  Mrs. Wolfe was a distinctly beautiful woman, whose beauty had beenbut little dimmed by time. There was a sweet, matronly repose abouther, and the brightness of her red-gold hair was dashed withstreaks of soft grey beneath the laces with which it was crowned.But her complexion was clear and fair, and there was a look of softfragility about her which made the son's protecting air ofsolicitude a natural and appropriate one. She folded him in herarms in a long, rapturous embrace; and Julian stood silently by thewhile, reverent of that deep love which for the moment could findno expression save in the whispered words:

  "Mother! mother! mother!"

  "My son--my dear boy! my son come back to me!"

  When the lady turned at length to greet the silent figure who stoodsilently watching this meeting, Julian could see that the tearswere standing upon her cheeks and sparkling in her eyes.

  "You will pardon me, sir, for this apparent neglect," she saidsweetly, putting her thin jewelled fingers into Julian's hand; "butwhen my boy goes forth to the fight, I never know whether it willbe God's will to send him back to me safe and sound. A mother'sheart cannot but be full upon a day like this. But second only tomy joy in welcoming him back is this of making acquaintance withthe trusty friend who has been so much to him during his perils andlabours."

  "Madam, it has been the joy and honour of my life to be able toserve so great a soldier and so noble a man!"

  The warm clasp upon his fingers gave the mother's answer to this;and then they all moved within the lighted hall, where a glowingfire and a number of candles gave bright illumination, and wherequite a hubbub of welcome was going on. The servants were pressingforward to see and greet their young master, who had come homecrowned with laurels. It was known by this time in England how muchof the success at Louisbourg had been due to Wolfe's unfailingenergy and intrepidity. He was a hero at home as well as abroad,though he had hardly realized it yet. Moreover, he was vociferouslywelcomed by his dogs, all of whom had been brought by his mother tomeet their master again; and he had much ado to return the manifoldgreetings bestowed upon him, and to free himself at last from thedemonstrative affection of his canine friends.

  A plentiful supper was awaiting the wearied travellers; and it waswhen they had put in order their dress and entered the dining roomthat they were aware of the presence of another lady, a veryhandsome, dark-eyed girl, who stood beside the glowing fireregarding their entrance with looks of unaffected interest.

  "My dear," said Mrs. Wolfe, "let me present to you my son James, ofwhom you know much, although you have never met; and his friend andcompanion, Lieutenant Julian Dautray, whose name is equally knownto you.

  "This, James, is Miss Kate Lowther, the daughter of an old friendof ours, who has left her in my charge whilst he takes a lastvoyage to Barbados, where once he was Governor, to be my daughterand companion till he comes back to claim her."

  The bright-eyed girl dropped a courtesy to the gentlemen, who bowedlow before her; but then holding out her hand frankly to Wolfe, shesaid in a clear, fresh voice.

  "I am so glad to see you, Cousin James. I am going to call you thatbecause I call your mother Aunt, and she has given me leave to doso. I know so much about you from your letters. I have copied everyone of them to send to your father, for Aunt will not part with theoriginals even for him! I know all about Louisbourg, and thebatteries, and the ships, and the big guns. Oh, I think if I were aman I could become an officer at once, and command a great campaignlike that one! We had such rejoicings here when the news came! itwas like new life to us. We had heard of that dreadful defeat atTiconderoga, and it seemed as though England was never to rise fromthe dust of humiliation. It was openly said tha
t Louisbourg wouldnever fall; that it was as impregnable as Quebec. Oh, there wassuch lugubrious talk! And then came the news of the victory, and ofBrigadier Wolfe's valiant and doughty deeds. You may guess how yourmother's eyes shone at that! And all England echoed to the sound ofyour name!"

  "A name more formidable in sound than in reality," spoke Wolfe,laughing, but cheered and pleased by the sincere and prettyenthusiasm of the winning girl. "When those who have kindly admiredme from the distance come to inspect me in person, what a shockthey will receive! We shall have to palm Julian here off as theright man; he will play the part with much more dignity and grace."

  Kate looked from one to the other laughing.

  "What do you expect me to say to that? Lieutenant Dautray looksevery inch a soldier; but I think, Cousin James, that you have theair of the man born to command."

  "In spite of my cropped red head and lanky limbs? I am proud of thecompliment paid me."

  Wolfe was certainly rather taken aback to find himself a man of somuch mark when he showed himself in Bath. He had quite an ovationwhen first he appeared at the Pump Room; and although he was in ameasure accustomed to lead a public life, and to be the object ofattention and even admiration, he shrank from having this carriedinto his private life, and was happiest at home with his mother andfriend, and with bright Kate Lowther, with whom he soon becamewonderfully intimate.

  The girl's sincere affection for his frail and delicate motherwould in any case have won his heart; but there was somethingexceedingly attractive in her whole personality and in her eagerinterest in his past career and in the fortunes of the war. Shewould sit for hours beside him whilst he related to his mother theincidents of the campaign, and her questions and comments showed aquick intelligence and ready sympathy that were a never-failingsource of interest to him.

  Her strength and vitality were refreshing to one who was himselfalmost always weak and suffering. He would watch her at play withthe dogs in the garden, or up and down the staircase, and delightin the grace and vigour of her movements. She would come in fromher walks and rides with a glow upon her face and a light in hereyes, and sitting down beside him would relate all that hadbefallen her since her departure an hour or two before--tellingeverything in so racy and lively a fashion that it became thechiefest pleasure of Wolfe's life to lie and look at her and listento her conversation.

  Christmas was close upon them. It would be a bright and happyseason for mother and son, spent together after their longseparation. Upon the eve of that day Kate came eagerly in with alarge official letter in her hand, addressed to the soldier. It wasa moment of excitement whilst he opened it, for it was known thathe had been corresponding latterly with several ministersrespecting the proposed expedition against Quebec, and all knew howdear to his heart was the fulfilment of that daring scheme.

  As he read the document his cheek flushed. He sat up more erect inhis chair, and there came into his face a look which his soldierswell knew. It was always to be seen there when he led them intobattle.

  "Mother," he said very quietly, "Mr. Pitt has chosen me to commandthe expedition now fitting out against Quebec."

  Mrs. Wolfe gave a little gasp, the tears springing to her eyes; butover Kate's face there spread a deep, beautiful flush, and shegrasped the young man by the hand, exclaiming:

  "O Cousin James, how glad I am! What a splendid victory it willbe!"

  "If it be won!" he said, looking up at her with kindling eyes. "Butthere is always an 'if' in the case."

  "There will be none when you are in command," answered Kate, with aring of proud assurance in her voice. "Had you been commander ofthe Louisbourg expedition, Quebec would have been ours by now."

  Their eyes met. In hers he read unbounded admiration and faith. Itthrilled him strangely. It brought a look of new purpose into hisface. He held her hand, and she left it lying in his clasp. He washolding it still when he turned to his mother.

  "Are you not glad, mother mine?" he asked gently.

  "Oh yes, my son--glad and proud of the honour done you, of theappreciation shown of your worth and service. But how will you beable to undergo all that fatigue, and the perils and sufferings ofanother voyage? That is what goes to my heart. You are so littlefit for it all!"

  "I have found that a man can always be fit for his duty," saidWolfe gravely. "Is not that so, Kate?"

  "With you it is," she answered, with another of her wonderfulglances; and the mother, watching the faces of the pair, rose fromher seat and crept from the room. Her heart was at once glad andsorrowful, proud and heavy; she felt that she must ease it with alittle weeping before she could talk of this great thing with thespirit her son would look to find in her.

  Wolfe and Kate were left alone together. He got possession of herother hand. She was standing before him still, a beautiful bloomupon her face, her eyes shining like stars.

  "You are pleased with all this, my Kate?" he asked; and he let thelast words escape him unconsciously.

  "Pleased that your country should do you this great honour? Ofcourse I am pleased. You have deserved it at her hands; yet men donot always get their deserts in this world."

  "No; and you must not think that there are not hundreds of betterand braver men than myself in our army, or that I am a verywonderful person. I have got the wish of my heart--it has beengranted to me more fully than I ever looked to see it; but howoften do we see in the hour of triumph that there is somethingbitter in the cup, something we had not looked to find there. Threemonths ago I was burning to sail for Quebec, and now--"

  He paused for a moment, and she looked full at him.

  "Surely you have not changed. You want to go; your heart is setupon it!"

  "Yes," he answered gravely: "my wish and purpose have neverwavered; but now my heart is divided. Once it beat only for mycountry, and the clash of arms was music in my ears; now it hasfound a rival elsewhere. If I go to Quebec, I must leave youbehind, my Kate!"

  Suddenly into her bright eyes there sprang the smart of tears. Sheclasped the hands that held hers and pressed them closely.

  "It will not be for long," she said; "you will return covered withglory and renown!"

  "It may be so, it may be so; yet who can tell? Think how manygallant soldiers have been left behind upon that great continent:Braddock, Howe--oh, I could name many others less known to fame,perhaps, but gallant soldiers all. We go out with our lives in ourhand, and so many never return!"

  The tears began to fall slowly in sparkling drops. She could notrelease her hands to wipe them away.

  "Do not speak so, James; it is not like you! Why do you try tobreak my heart?"

  "Would you care so much, so much, were I to find a soldier'sgrave?"

  A quick sob was her reply. She turned her head away.

  "Kate, do you love me?"

  "I think you know that I do, James."

  "I have begun to hope, and yet I have scarcely dared. You so fullof life and strength and beauty, and I such a broken crock!"

  "A hero, you mean!" she answered, with flashing eyes--"a soldierand a hero; tenfold more a hero in that you overcome pain andweakness, sickness and suffering, in the discharge of your duty,and do things that others would declare impossible! Oh yes, I haveheard of you; Lieutenant Dautray has told me. I know how you havedone the impossible again and yet again. James, you will do thisonce again. You will storm that great fortress which men callimpregnable--you will storm it and you will vanquish it; and youwill come home crowned with glory and honour! And I shall be herewaiting for you; I shall watch and wait till you come. It iswritten in the book of fate that your name is to go down toposterity as the hero of Quebec. I am sure of it--oh, I am sure! Donot say anything to damp my hope, for I will not believe you!"

  He looked into her face, and his own kindled strangely. "I will saynothing but that I love you--I love you--I love you! Today that isenough between us, Kate. Let the rest go--the honour and glory ofthe world, the commission, and all besides. Today we belong to eachother; tomorrow we sing of pea
ce on earth, goodwill toward men. Letthat suffice us; let us forget the rest. We will be happy togetherin our love, and in love to all mankind. After that we must thinkagain of these things. Afterwards thoughts of war and strife musthave their place; but for once let love be lord of our lives. Afterthat storm and strife--and Quebec!"