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By this McGilveray knew that this was the maid that had got him into all this trouble. At first he was inclined to say so, but she came nearer, and one look of her black eyes changed all that. "You've a way wid you, me darlin'," said McGilveray, not thinking that she might understand. "A leetla way of my own," she answered in broken English. McGilveray started.
"He is shot this morning," she said, her face darkening, "and, besides, he was nevare my hoosban'." "He said he was," replied McGilveray, eagerly. "He was awway a liar," she answered. "He decaved you too, thin?" asked McGilveray, his face growing red.
There was silence on the ship for a time as all watched and waited. Presently an officer said to the General: "I'm afraid he's gone, sir." "Send a boat to search," was the reply. "If he is dead" the General took off his hat "we will, please God, bury him within the French citadel to-morrow." But McGilveray was alive, and in half-an-hour he was brought aboard the flag-ship, safe and sober.
McGilveray has been dead for over a hundred years, but there is a parish in Quebec where his tawny-haired descendants still live.
A fortnight or so after Wolfe's army and Saunders's fleet had sat down before Quebec, McGilveray, having been told by a sentry at Montmorenci where Anstruther's regiment was camped, that a French girl on the other side of the stream had kissed her hand to him and sung across in laughing insolence: "Malbrouk s'en va t'en guerre,"
McGilveray sat down on the bench, and in five minutes his feet were shackled, while a chain fastened to a staple in the wall held him in secure captivity. "How you like yourself now?" asked a huge French corporal who had learned English from an English girl at St. Malo years before.
By this McGilveray knew that this was the maid that had got him into all this trouble. At first he was inclined to say so, but she came nearer, and one look of her black eyes changed all that. "You've a way wid you, me darlin'," said McGilveray, not thinking that she might understand. "A leetla way of my own," she answered in broken English. McGilveray started.
The west side of the town had meagre military defenses, the great cliffs being thought impregnable. But at this point Wolfe had discovered a narrow path up a steep cliff. McGilveray had seen the fire-organ at the same moment as the General. "Get up the side," he said to the remaining soldier in his boat.
A fortnight or so after Wolfe's army and Saunders's fleet had sat down before Quebec, McGilveray, having been told by a sentry at Montmorenci where Anstruther's regiment was camped, that a French girl on the other side of the stream had kissed her hand to him and sung across in laughing insolence: "Malbrouk s'en va t'en guerre,"
"I knew you were free with drink, McGilveray," he said, "but I did not think you were a traitor to your country too." McGilveray saluted, and did not answer. "You might have waited till after to-morrow, man," said the General, his eyes flashing. "My soldiers should have good music to-morrow." McGilveray saluted again, but made no answer.
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