ous strength that
nature had given to the position of Quebec, and the skill of Montcalm,
Bougainville, and St. Luc met every emergency. Most ominous of all, the
summer was waning. The colors that betoken autumn were deepening. Wolfe
realized anew that the time for taking Quebec was shortening fast. The
deep red appearing in the leaves spoke a language that could not be
denied.

Robert, about this time, received an important letter from Benjamin
Hardy. It came by way of Boston, Louisbourg and the St. Lawrence. It
told him in the polite phrase of the day how glad he had been to hear
from Master Jacobus Huysman that he was not dead, although Robert read
easily between the lines and saw how genuine and deep was his joy. Mr.
Hardy saw in his escape from so many dangers the hand of providence, a
direct interposition in his behalf. He said, from motives of prudence,
no mention of Robert's return from the grave had been made to his
acquaintances in New York, and Master Jacobus Huysman in Albany had been
cautioned to say as little about it as possible. He deemed this wise,
for the present, because those who had made the attempts upon his life
would know nothing of their failure and so he would have nothing to fear
from them. He was glad too, since he was sure to return to some field of
the war, that he had joined the expedition against Quebec. The risk of
battle there would be great, but it was likely that in so remote a
theater of action he would be safe from his unknown enemies.

Mr. Hardy added that great hopes were centered on Wolfe's daring siege.
All the campaigns elsewhere were going well, at last. The full strength
of the colonies was being exerted and England was making a mighty
effort. Success must come. Everybody had confidence in Mr. Pitt, and in
New York they were hopeful that the shadow, hovering so long in the
north, would soon be dispelled forever.

In closing he said that when the campaign was over Robert must come to
him in New York at once, and that Willet must come with him. His wild
life in the woods must cease. Ample provision for his future would be
made and he must develop the talents with which he was so obviously
endowed.

The water was in Robert's eyes when he finished the letter. Aye, he read
between the lines, and he read well. The old thought that he had
friends, powerful friends, came to him with renewed strength. It was
obvious that the New York merchant had a deep affection for him and was
w