Chapter 16

"EDG.--Before you fight the battle ope this letter."--

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 affection; 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 her 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 toward 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. Louis were in a body at the sally-port, with

the French saint at their head, crying to speak a word under

favor. A pretty degree of knighthood, sir, is that which

can be bought with sugar hogsheads! and then your twopenny

marquisates. The thistle is the order 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.

"And to marry whom, then, did you wish my consent, Major

Heyward?" demanded the old soldier, erecting himself in the

dignity of offended feeling.

"You have another, and not less lovely child."

"Alice!" exclaimed the father, in an astonishment equal to

that with which Duncan had just repeated the name of her

sister.

"Such was the direction of my wishes, sir."

The young man awaited in silence the result of the

extraordinary effect produced by a communication, which, as

it now appeared, was so unexpected. For several minutes

Munro paced the chamber with long and rapid strides, his

rigid features working convulsively, and every faculty

seemingly absorbed in the musings of his own mind. At

length, he paused directly in front of Heyward, and riveting

his eyes upon those of the other, he said, with a lip that

quivered violently:

"Duncan Heyward, I have loved you for the sake of him whose

blood is in your veins; I have loved you for your own good

qualities; and I have loved you, because I thought you would

contribute to the happiness of my child. But all this love

would turn to hatred, were I assured that what I so much

apprehend is true."

"God forbid that any act or thought of mine should lead to

such a change!" exclaimed the young man, whose eye never

quailed under the penetrating look it encountered. Without

adverting to the impossibility of the other's comprehending

those feelings which were hid in his own bosom, Munro

suffered himself to be appeased by the unaltered countenance

he met, and with a voice sensibly softened, he continued:

"You would be my son, Duncan, and you're ignorant of the

history of the man you wish to call your father. Sit ye

down, young man, and I will open to you the wounds of a

seared heart, in as few words as may be suitable."

By this time, the message of Montcalm was as much forgotten

by him who bore it as by the man for whose ears it was

intended. Each drew a chair, and while the veteran communed

a few moments with his own thoughts, apparently in sadness,

the youth suppressed his impatience in a look and attitude

of respectful attention. At length, the former spoke:

"You'll know, already, Major Heyward, that my family was

both ancient and honorable," commenced the Scotsman; "though

it might not altogether be endowed with that amount of

wealth that should correspond with its degree. I was,

maybe, such an one as yourself when I plighted my faith to

Alice Graham, the only child of a neighboring laird of some

estate. But the connection was disagreeable to her father,

on more accounts than my poverty. I did, therefore, what an

honest man should--restored the maiden her troth, and

departed the country in the service of my king. I had seen

many regions, and had shed much blood in different lands,

before duty called me to the islands of the West Indies.

There it was my lot to form a connection with one who in

time became my wife, and the mother of Cora. She was the

daughter of a gentleman of those isles, by a lady whose

misfortune it was, if you will," said the old man, proudly,

"to be descended, remotely, from that unfortunate class who

are so basely enslaved to administer to the wants of a

luxurious people. Ay, sir, that is a curse, entailed on

Scotland by her unnatural union with a foreign and trading

people. But could I find a man among them who would dare to

reflect on my child, he should feel the weight of a father's

anger! Ha! Major Heyward, you are yourself born at the

south, where these unfortunate beings are considered of a

race inferior to your own."

"'Tis most unfortunately true, sir," said Duncan, unable any

longer to prevent his eyes from sinking to the floor in

embarrassment.

"And you cast it on my child as a reproach! You scorn to

mingle the blood of the Heywards with one so degraded--

lovely and virtuous though she be?" fiercely demanded the

jealous parent.

"Heaven protect me from a prejudice so unworthy of my

reason!" returned Duncan, at the same time conscious of such

a feeling, and that as deeply rooted as if it had been

ingrafted in his nature. "The sweetness, the beauty, the

witchery of your younger daughter, Colonel Munro, might

explain my motives without imputing to me this injustice."

"Ye are right, sir," returned the old man, again changing

his tones to those of gentleness, or rather softness; "the

girl is the image of what her mother was at her years, and

before she had become acquainted with grief. When death

deprived me of my wife I returned to Scotland, enriched by

the marriage; and, would you think it, Duncan! the suffering

angel had remained in the heartless state of celibacy twenty

long years, and that for the sake of a man who could forget

her! She did more, sir; she overlooked my want of faith,

and, all difficulties being now removed, she took me for her

husband."

"And became the mother of Alice?" exclaimed Duncan, with an

eagerness that might have proved dangerous at a moment when

the thoughts of Munro were less occupied that at present.

"She did, indeed," said the old man, "and dearly did she pay

for the blessing she bestowed. But she is a saint in

heaven, sir; and it ill becomes one whose foot rests on the

grave to mourn a lot so blessed. I had her but a single

year, though; a short term of happiness for one who had seen

her youth fade in hopeless pining."

There was something so commanding in the distress of the old

man, that Heyward did not dare to venture a syllable of

consolation. Munro sat utterly unconscious of the other's

presence, his features exposed and working with the anguish

of his regrets, while heavy tears fell from his eyes, and

rolled unheeded from his cheeks to the floor. At length he

moved, and as if suddenly recovering his recollection; when

he arose, and taking a single turn across the room, he

approached his companion with an air of military grandeur,

and demanded:

"Have you not, Major Heyward, some communication that I

should hear from the marquis de Montcalm?"

Duncan started in his turn, and immediately commenced in an

embarrassed voice, the half-forgotten message. It is

unnecessary to dwell upon the evasive though polite manner

with which the French general had eluded every attempt of

Heyward to worm from him the purport of the communication he

had proposed making, or on the decided, though still

polished message, by which he now gave his enemy to

understand, that, unless he chose to receive it in person,

he should not receive it at all. As Munro listened to the

detail of Duncan, the excited feelings of the father

gradually gave way before the obligations of his station,

and when the other was done, he saw before him nothing but

the veteran, swelling with the wounded feelings of a

soldier.

"You have said enough, Major Heyward," exclaimed the angry

old man; "enough to make a volume of commentary on French

civility. Here has this gentleman invited me to a

conference, and when I send him a capable substitute, for

ye're all that, Duncan, though your years are but few, he

answers me with a riddle."

"He may have thought less favorably of the substitute, my

dear sir; and you will remember that the invitation, which

he now repeats, was to the commandant of the works, and not

to his second."

"Well, sir, is not a substitute clothed with all the power

and dignity of him who grants the commission? He wishes to

confer with Munro! Faith, sir, I have much inclination to

indulge the man, if it should only be to let him behold the

firm countenance we maintain in spite of his numbers and his

summons. There might be not bad policy in such a stroke,

young man."

Duncan, who believe it of the last importance that they

should speedily come to the contents of the letter borne by

the scout, gladly encouraged this idea.

"Without doubt, he could gather no confidence by witnessing

our indifference," he said.

"You never said truer word. I could wish, sir, that he

would visit the works in open day, and in the form of a

storming party; that is the least failing method of proving

the countenance of an enemy, and would be far preferable to

the battering system he has chosen. The beauty and

manliness of warfare has been much deformed, Major Heyward,

by the arts of your Monsieur Vauban. Our ancestors were far

above such scientific cowardice!"

"It may be very true, sir; but we are now obliged to repel

art by art. What is your pleasure in the matter of the

interview?"

"I will meet the Frenchman, and that without fear or delay;

promptly, sir, as becomes a servant of my royal master. Go,

Major Heyward, and give them a flourish of the music; and

send out a messenger to let them know who is coming. We

will follow with a small guard, for such respect is due to

one who holds the honor of his king in keeping; and hark'ee,

Duncan," he added, in a half whisper, though they were

alone, "it may be prudent to have some aid at hand, in case

there should be treachery at the bottom of it all."

The young man availed himself of this order to quit the

apartment; and, as the day was fast coming to a close, he

hastened without delay, to make the necessary arrangements.

A very few minutes only were necessary to parade a few

files, and to dispatch an orderly with a flag to announce

the approach of the commandant of the fort. When Duncan had

done both these, he led the guard to the sally-port, near

which he found his superior ready, waiting his appearance.

As soon as the usual ceremonials of a military departure

were observed, the veteran and his more youthful companion

left the fortress, attended by the escort.

They had proceeded only a hundred yards from the works, when

the little array which attended the French general to the

conference was seen issuing from the hollow way which formed

the bed of a brook that ran between the batteries of the

besiegers and the fort. From the moment that Munro left his

own works to appear in front of his enemy's, his air had

been grand, and his step and countenance highly military.

The instant he caught a glimpse of the white plume that

waved in the hat of Montcalm, his eye lighted, and age no

longer appeared to possess any influence over his vast and

still muscular person.

"Speak to the boys to be watchful, sir," he said, in an

undertone, to Duncan; "and to look well to their flints and

steel, for one is never safe with a servant of these

Louis's; at the same time, we shall show them the front of

men in deep security. Ye'll understand me, Major Heyward!"

He was interrupted by the clamor of a drum from the

approaching Frenchmen, which was immediately answered, when

each party pushed an orderly in advance, bearing a white

flag, and the wary Scotsman halted with his guard close at

his back. As soon as this slight salutation had passed,

Montcalm moved toward them with a quick but graceful step,

baring his head to the veteran, and dropping his spotless

plume nearly to the earth in courtesy. If the air of Munro

was more commanding and manly, it wanted both the ease and

insinuating polish of that of the Frenchman. Neither spoke

for a few moments, each regarding the other with curious and

interested eyes. Then, as became his superior rank and the

nature of the interview, Montcalm broke the silence. After

uttering the usual words of greeting, he turned to Duncan,

and continued, with a smile of recognition, speaking always

in French:

"I am rejoiced, monsieur, that you have given us the

pleasure of your company on this occasion. There will be no

necessity to employ an ordinary interpreter; for, in your

hands, I feel the same security as if I spoke your language

myself."

Duncan acknowledged the compliment, when Montcalm, turning

to his guard, which in imitation of that of their enemies,

pressed close upon him, continued:

"En arriere, mes enfants--il fait chaud--retirez-vous un

peu."

Before Major Heyward would imitate this proof of confidence,

he glanced his eyes around the plain, and beheld with

uneasiness the numerous dusky groups of savages, who looked

out from the margin of the surrounding woods, curious

spectators of the interview.

"Monsieur de Montcalm will readily acknowledge the

difference in our situation," he said, with some

embarrassment, pointing at the same time toward those

dangerous foes, who were to be seen in almost every

direction. "were we to dismiss our guard, we should stand

here at the mercy of our enemies."

"Monsieur, you have the plighted faith of 'un gentilhomme

Fran‡ais', for your safety," returned Montcalm, laying his

hand impressively on his heart; "it should suffice."

"It shall. Fall back," Duncan added to the officer who led

the escort; "fall back, sir, beyond hearing, and wait for

orders."

Munro witnessed this movement with manifest uneasiness; nor

did he fail to demand an instant explanation.

"Is it not our interest, sir, to betray distrust?" retorted

Duncan. "Monsieur de Montcalm pledges his word for our

safety, and I have ordered the men to withdraw a little, in

order to prove how much we depend on his assurance."

"It may be all right, sir, but I have no overweening

reliance on the faith of these marquesses, or marquis, as

they call themselves. Their patents of nobility are too

common to be certain that they bear the seal of true honor."

"You forget, dear sir, that we confer with an officer,

distinguished alike in Europe and America for his deeds.

From a soldier of his reputation we can have nothing to

apprehend."

The old man made a gesture of resignation, though his rigid

features still betrayed his obstinate adherence to a

distrust, which he derived from a sort of hereditary

contempt of his enemy, rather than from any present signs

which might warrant so uncharitable a feeling. Montcalm

waited patiently until this little dialogue in demi-voice

was ended, when he drew nigher, and opened the subject of

their conference.

"I have solicited this interview from your superior,

monsieur," he said, "because I believe he will allow himself

to be persuaded that he has already done everything which is

necessary for the honor of his prince, and will now listen

to the admonitions of humanity. I will forever bear

testimony that his resistance has been gallant, and was

continued as long as there was hope."

When this opening was translated to Munro, he answered with

dignity, but with sufficient courtesy:

"However I may prize such testimony from Monsieur Montcalm,

it will be more valuable when it shall be better merited."

The French general smiled, as Duncan gave him the purport of

this reply, and observed:

"What is now so freely accorded to approved courage, may be

refused to useless obstinacy. Monsieur would wish to see my

camp, and witness for himself our numbers, and the

impossibility of his resisting them with success?"

"I know that the king of France is well served," returned

the unmoved Scotsman, as soon as Duncan ended his

translation; "but my own royal master has as many and as

faithful troops."

"Though not at hand, fortunately for us," said Montcalm,

without waiting, in his ardor, for the interpreter. "There

is a destiny in war, to which a brave man knows how to

submit with the same courage that he faces his foes."

"Had I been conscious that Monsieur Montcalm was master of

the English, I should have spared myself the trouble of so

awkward a translation," said the vexed Duncan, dryly;

remembering instantly his recent by-play with Munro.

"Your pardon, monsieur," rejoined the Frenchman, suffering a

slight color to appear on his dark cheek. "There is a vast

difference between understanding and speaking a foreign

tongue; you will, therefore, please to assist me still."

Then, after a short pause, he added: "These hills afford us

every opportunity of reconnoitering your works, messieurs,

and I am possibly as well acquainted with their weak

condition as you can be yourselves."

"Ask the French general if his glasses can reach to the

Hudson," said Munro, proudly; "and if he knows when and

where to expect the army of Webb."

"Let General Webb be his own interpreter," returned the

politic Montcalm, suddenly extending an open letter toward

Munro as he spoke; "you will there learn, monsieur, that his

movements are not likely to prove embarrassing to my army."

The veteran seized the offered paper, without waiting for

Duncan to translate the speech, and with an eagerness that

betrayed how important he deemed its contents. As his eye

passed hastily over the words, his countenance changed from

its look of military pride to one of deep chagrin; his lip

began to quiver; and suffering the paper to fall from his

hand, his head dropped upon his chest, like that of a man

whose hopes were withered at a single blow. Duncan caught

the letter from the ground, and without apology for the

liberty he took, he read at a glance its cruel purport.

Their common superior, so far from encouraging them to

resist, advised a speedy surrender, urging in the plainest

language, as a reason, the utter impossibility of his

sending a single man to their rescue.

"Here is no deception!" exclaimed Duncan, examining the

billet both inside and out; "this is the signature of Webb,

and must be the captured letter."

"The man has betrayed me!" Munro at length bitterly

exclaimed; "he has brought dishonor to the door of one where

disgrace was never before known to dwell, and shame has he

heaped heavily on my gray hairs."

"Say not so," cried Duncan; "we are yet masters of the fort,

and of our honor. Let us, then, sell our lives at such a

rate as shall make our enemies believe the purchase too

dear."

"Boy, I thank thee," exclaimed the old man, rousing himself

from his stupor; "you have, for once, reminded Munro of his

duty. We will go back, and dig our graves behind those

ramparts."

"Messieurs," said Montcalm, advancing toward them a step, in

generous interest, "you little know Louis de St. Veran if

you believe him capable of profiting by this letter to

humble brave men, or to build up a dishonest reputation for

himself. Listen to my terms before you leave me."

"What says the Frenchman?" demanded the veteran, sternly;

"does he make a merit of having captured a scout, with a

note from headquarters? Sir, he had better raise this

siege, to go and sit down before Edward if he wishes to

frighten his enemy with words."

Duncan explained the other's meaning.

"Monsieur de Montcalm, we will hear you," the veteran added,

more calmly, as Duncan ended.

"To retain the fort is now impossible," said his liberal

enemy; "it is necessary to the interests of my master that

it should be destroyed; but as for yourselves and your brave

comrades, there is no privilege dear to a soldier that shall

be denied."

"Our colors?" demanded Heyward.

"Carry them to England, and show them to your king."

"Our arms?"

"Keep them; none can use them better."

"Our march; the surrender of the place?"

"Shall all be done in a way most honorable to yourselves."

Duncan now turned to explain these proposals to his

commander, who heard him with amazement, and a sensibility

that was deeply touched by so unusual and unexpected

generosity.

"Go you, Duncan," he said; "go with this marquess, as,

indeed, marquess he should be; go to his marquee and arrange

it all. I have lived to see two things in my old age that

never did I expect to behold. An Englishman afraid to

support a friend, and a Frenchman too honest to profit by

his advantage."

So saying, the veteran again dropped his head to his chest,

and returned slowly toward the fort, exhibiting, by the

dejection of his air, to the anxious garrison, a harbinger

of evil tidings.

From the shock of this unexpected blow the haughty feelings

of Munro never recovered; but from that moment there

commenced a change in his determined character, which

accompanied him to a speedy grave. Duncan remained to

settle the terms of the capitulation. He was seen to re-

enter the works during the first watches of the night, and

immediately after a private conference with the commandant,

to leave them again. It was then openly announced that

hostilities must cease--Munro having signed a treaty by

which the place was to be yielded to the enemy, with the

morning; the garrison to retain their arms, the colors and

their baggage, and, consequently, according to military

opinion, their honor.

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