Colin was almost ready to believe this himself, though he scarcely liked to put it so broadly, lest it should seem like treachery to his own family and friends.  He was possessed of a very keen admiration for British pluck and boldness and audacity.  The things he had heard and seen had fired his enthusiasm, and he was quite of the opinion that were the free choice to be one day his, he would choose to throw in his lot with the English invaders of Canadian soil.  To watch how this game of skill and address was to be played out between the two powers was now his great aim and object, and he was eager to be a spectator in the next scene of the drama.

His way was made quite easy; for the Abbe himself resolved to accompany the expedition, and watch from a distance the effect of the combined attack upon the English batteries.  He would have been better satisfied had Montcalm been consulted; but he was away at Beauport, and if the citizens were to achieve anything, it would be better for them to strike whilst the iron was hot.  Another day and the leaden storm might have opened upon the city, and the heart might be taken out of them.

All was now hurry and confusion—­too much confusion for the approval of the Abbe, who, with the officer in command and the regular troops, sought to allay it, and to infuse more of discipline and organization into the arrangements.

Colin ran back to say farewell to Corinne and Madame Drucour; and they bid him be careful of himself, and come back amongst the first to bring them news.  After promising this Colin departed, and the night fell upon the town—­a restless night for those within its walls; for there was scarce a house but had contributed its one or more members for the expedition, and all knew that the salvation of their homes depended upon the success of the attack.

It was a hot, dark night, and there was little sleep in the city.  It would be impossible to hear at that distance, even if some hand-to-hand fighting were to take place on the opposite bank.  The wind set the wrong way, and only if the big guns boomed out would they be likely to know that the English had been aroused.  Eagerly was the dawn waited for, when the city guns would give the expected signal; but the dawn came so wrapped in fog, and it was not quite as early as was expected that the boom and roar from the fortifications told that the gunners could sight the opposing batteries.  The blanket of fog seemed then to roll up and away, leaving the glistening river lying like a sheet of silver at their feet.

But what was the meaning of that crowd of boats all making for the city as fast as oars and sails could bring them?  It was hardly six o’clock in the morning, and the attack could not well have been commenced before five.  What, then, were they doing, hurrying back in their boats like hunted hares?