Chapter: "_Edg._--Before you fight the battle, ope this letter."

  _King 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
affections: 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 the 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 towards 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, craving to speak
a word under favor. A pretty degree of knighthood, sir, is that which
can be bought with sugar-hogsheads! and then your two-penny 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 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, may be, 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 over-looked 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 than 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, 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 no bad policy in such a stroke, young
man."

Duncan, who believed it of the last importance that they should speedily
come at 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 harkee,
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 despatch 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 enemies, 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 Louises; at the same time, we will 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 towards 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,--

[Illustration: _Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons_

THE MEETING OF THE GENERALS

_As soon as this slight salutation had passed, Montcalm moved towards
them with a quick but graceful step, baring his head to the veteran, and
dropping his spotless plume nearly to the earth in courtesy_]

"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 enfans--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
towards 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 Francais_; 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 no 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 not 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 reconnoitring 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 towards 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 towards 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 such
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 towards 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, their colors, and their baggage, and consequently, according to
military opinion, their honor.

 Back inside the fort, Heyward finds Munro with Alice running her fingers through his hair while Cora looks on with amusement. The girls exit and Munro, refusing to talk of Montcalm, reverts to something Heyward had said when he first arrived five days earlier. He is very upset when he learns that the major had thought of proposing to Alice instead of Cora. He tells how, years before, he had gone to the West Indies and married a woman who was part black and who became the mother of Cora. Hence, because Heyward was born in the South, he thinks he is prejudiced though the young man denies it, having in truth known nothing of the situation. The commander continues telling how, after the woman's death, he returned to Scotland and married his first love, who died in giving birth to Alice. Munro is so distressed that Heyward says nothing until Montcalm's message is demanded of him. They leave together for a parley with the French general, Heyward serving as interpreter. Montcalm reveals the letter in which Webb advises a speedy surrender of the fort. When the Frenchman explains his generous terms -- the English are to keep their colors, their arms, their baggage, their honor -- Munro accepts, though a permanent, progressive change in him begins immediately as he leaves Heyward behind to settle things with the French.

