"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 sett