er. Hard as the terms were, they
must be accepted. And on July 20, 1629, the lilies of France ceased to
wave over Quebec, dear old Quebec, and Captain Louis Kirke took
possession of the fort and the town, in the name of His Majesty, King
Charles I, and the standard of England floated quite as proudly over the
St. Lawrence.

Did they dream then that this scene would be enacted over again when a
new Quebec, proud of her improvements and defences, that were considered
impregnable, should fight and lose one of the greatest of battles, and
two of the bravest of men, and again lower the lilies! A greater romance
than that of old Quebec, the dream of the Sieur de Champlain.

But it seemed a sad travesty that the mother country should send succor
too late. A French vessel, with emigrants and supplies, came in sight
only to fall into the hands of the victorious English.

Captain Emery de Caen insisted that peace had been declared two months
before, but the Kirkes would not admit this. It was said that all
conquests after that date were to be restored. A new hope animated the
heart of the brave old Commandant. If it were true, the lilies might
replace the flaunting standard.

Many of the citizens preferred to remain. They had their little homes
and gardens, and the English proved not overbearing. Then there was an
end to present want. A hundred and fifty men gave the town a new
impetus, and when the next fleet came, with the large war-ships, there
was a certain aspect of gayety, quite new to the place.

After some discussion, Champlain resolved to return to France, and
thence to England, to understand the terms of peace, and if possible, to
win New France once more.

Ralph Destournier was a Frenchman at heart, though a little English
blood ran in his veins. He had a strong desire to see France.

"Will you go?" he asked of Rose.

"Not until the year is ended," she said gravely. "But if you will
go--Wanamee and Pani can care for me. I am a little girl no longer."

It was true. There was no more little girl, but there was no more old
Quebec. It had already taken on a different aspect. Officers and men in
bright uniforms climbed the narrow, crooked streets, with gay jests, in
what seemed their rough language; there were little taverns opened,
where the fife and drum played an unmelodious part. Religion was free,
for there had come to be a number of Huguenots, as well as of the new
English church. The poor priests were at th