oirs--these only will content you? And
to flatter or cajole me, you tell me Mr. Pitt still urges on the matter.
In truth, when he touched first upon this, I thought it but the courtesy
of a great and generous man. But indeed I am proud that he is curious to
know more of my long captivity at Quebec, of Monsieur Doltaire and all
his dealings with me, and the motions he made to serve La Pompadour on
one hand, and, on the other, to win from me that most perfect of ladies,
Mademoiselle Alixe Duvarney.

Our bright conquest of Quebec is now heroic memory, and honour and fame
and reward have been parcelled out. So I shall but briefly, in these
memoirs (ay, they shall be written, and with a good heart), travel the
trail of history, or discourse upon campaigns and sieges, diplomacies
and treaties. I shall keep close to my own story; for that, it would
seem, yourself and the illustrious minister of the King most wish to
hear. Yet you will find figuring in it great men like our flaming hero
General Wolfe, and also General Montcalm, who, I shall ever keep on
saying, might have held Quebec against us, had he not been balked by the
vain Governor, the Marquis de Vaudreuil; together with such notorious
men as the Intendant Bigot, civil governor of New France, and such noble
gentlemen as the Seigneur Duvarney, father of Alixe.

I shall never view again the citadel on those tall heights where I
was detained so barbarously, nor the gracious Manor House at Beauport,
sacred to me because of her who dwelt therein--how long ago, how long!
Of all the pictures that flash before my mind when I think on those
times, one is most with me: that of the fine guest-room in the Manor
House, where I see moving the benign maid whose life and deeds alone can
make this story worth telling. And with one scene therein, and it the
most momentous in all my days, I shall begin my tale.

I beg you convey to Mr. Pitt my most obedient compliments, and say that
I take his polite wish as my command.

With every token of my regard, I am, dear Ned, affectionately your
friend,

Robert Moray

I. AN ESCORT TO THE CITADEL

When Monsieur Doltaire entered the salon, and, dropping lazily into a
chair beside Madame Duvarney and her daughter, drawled out, "England's
Braddock--fool and general--has gone to heaven, Captain Moray, and your
papers send you there also," I did not shift a jot, but looked over at
him gravely--for, God knows, I was startled--and I said,