ch regiments as Lee's, Lascelles's, or Warburton's, my
old opponents in Scotland. There was no difficulty in carrying out
the simple plan, for, in providing the boat and the men, Madame
Prevost had overcome the one obstacle. Hostilities would be
suspended, vigilance would be relaxed, and if the capitulation were
not signed before nightfall, it would be an easy matter to gain
the harbour, and under cover of the night to pass the enemy's
batteries and make some unguarded point on the coast beyond their
lines before day.

It fell out much as we had anticipated. M. de Drucour demanded the
same terms as those extended to the English at Port Mahon, in
Minorca. These were refused, and he resolved, with our unanimous
consent, to abide by the assault. But Prevost was at work, and so
artfully did he play on our commandant that by eleven o'clock the
same night, July 25, 1758, the terms of the harsh capitulation were
accepted.

At midnight, the capitulation being signed, I passed out by the
Brouillon Bastion, found the men with their shallop in readiness,
and, stepping in, said, in answer to their query:

"All the papers are signed; the English enter in the morning."

"'Dieu seul devine les sots,'" quoted old Gourdeau, sadly. "Shove
off!"

Part II

MARGARET'S STORY

_"Le coeur mene ou il va."_ -- Old Proverb.

CHAPTER XII

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE BAIE DES CHALEURS

Never, never shall I forget the elation which filled my heart as
I stepped ashore with Lucy that September day in the Baie des
Chaleurs, in Canada. After weeks of unrest, my feet once more were
on the sure, unchanging earth, in the land that held what was more
than all else to me, "my dear and only love," my Hugh.

As we strolled along the clear, hard sands beyond the sound of the
men toiling at the water-casks, I felt tempted to cry: "Lucy, Lucy,
can you not see my happiness? I am no Madame de St. Just, but
Margaret Nairn, the happiest woman in all the world, because my
feet press the same ground that bears my love." This, poor Lucy,
with her cramped Methodistical ways, would have held savoured only
of lightness, or worse; she could never understand the longing that
had worn at my heart all these years, and, most of all, she could
never conceive of a love such as that of my Hugh. Crowning all my
joy came back the words of his dear, dear song--

"The span o' Life's nae lang eneugh,
Nor deep eneugh the sea,
Nor braid eneugh this we