, Corinne? They are flying from
the camp at Beauport as sheep fly before wolves. It is no retreat,
it is a rout--a disgraceful, abominable, causeless rout. There is
no enemy near. The English are up on the heights, intrenching
themselves no doubt, and resting after their gallant enterprise.
Our uncle has exhausted his powers of persuasion. He has shown them
again and again how strong is their position still, how little it
would even now take of courage and resolution to save Quebec and
the colony. They will not listen--they will not hear. They are
flying like chaff before the wind. They are leaving everything
behind in their mad haste to be gone! And the Indians will swoop
down directly the camp is empty, and take everything. Oh, it is a
disgrace, a disgrace! Not even to take a night to think it over. If
the English did but know, and sent out a few hundred soldiers upon
them, they might cut the whole army to pieces in a few hours!"

Colin, Colin! oh, is it so?"

"It is indeed; and all that the men say when one speaks to them is
that Wolfe and his soldiers are too much for them. They will not
stay to be hacked to pieces."

"Alas!" said Paul gravely, "the gallant Wolfe is no more. If you
have lost your General, so have we. Wolfe fell early in the battle,
and Moncton is dangerously wounded. We are robbed of our two first
officers; but for all that we will have Quebec and Canada."

"And you deserve it!" answered Colin, fired with generous
enthusiasm. "If our French soldiers and officers fling away their
courage and their honour, let us welcome those who have both, and
who are masters worthy to be served and loved."

It was a strange, sad day. The confusion and despair in the town
were pitiful to behold. With the first light of day it was seen
that the camp at Beauport was still standing, and hope sprang up in
the hearts of the townsfolk. But when, shortly after, it was known
that though standing it had been abandoned, and that the night had
seen the indiscriminate flight of the whole army, the deepest
despondency fell upon the town. This feeling was not lessened when
it began to be whispered that the Chevalier Ramesay had received
instructions from the Governor not to attempt to hold the town in
face of a threatened assault, but to wait till the scanty
provisions had been exhausted, and then raise the white flag and
obtain the best terms he could.

The Abbe had stayed to bring this last letter from the flying
Gover