And when the two had left him, Wolfe turned to Julian and said: 

“I see now that I have nothing to hope for in a junction with Amherst.  He will have his hands full till the close of the season.  If Quebec is to be taken, we must take it ourselves, unaided from without.  I think I would rather die out here, and leave this carcass of mine in a Canadian grave, than return to England with the news that Quebec still holds out against the English flag!”

“Nay, say not so,” answered Julian earnestly, “for the greatest general may be baffled at some point.  And think of your mother—­and—­Miss Lowther!”

A softer look came into Wolfe’s eyes.  Upon his lips there hovered a slight, strange smile.  Instinctively his hand sought for something beneath his pillow.  Julian well knew what it was:  a case containing miniature portraits of the two beings he loved best in the world—­his mother, and the fair girl who had promised to become his wife.

He did not open it, but he held it in his hand, and spoke with a dreamy softness of intonation.

“There be times when I think that men of war should have no mothers or sisters or lovers,” he said.  “We leave so sad a heritage behind for them so oft.  And we are not worth the sacred tears that they shed over us when we fall.”

“And yet I think they would scarce be without those sacred memories to cherish,” answered Julian, thinking of Mrs. Wolfe’s idolization of her son, and of Kate Lowther’s bright eyes, overflowing with loving admiration.  “But why speak you so, as though you would see them no more?  Your health is slowly mending now, and you have been through perils and dangers before now, and have come safe out of them.”

“That is true,” answered Wolfe thoughtfully; “and yet a voice in my heart seems to tell me that I shall see those loved faces no more.  It may be but the fantasy of a troubled and fevered brain; but in dreams I have seen them, tears in their eyes, weeping for one unworthy of such grief, who lies in a far-off grave beneath the frowning battlements of yon great city.  I wonder ofttimes whether we are given to know something of that which is about to befall; for in my heart a voice has spoken, and that voice has said that Quebec shall be ours, but that these eyes shall never see what lies within the ramparts, for they will be sealed in death before that hour shall arrive.”

Julian had no reply ready; he knew not what to say.  It did indeed seem little likely that that frail form could survive the perils and hardships of this great siege, should it be prosecuted to the end, and should some daring assault be successfully made against the impregnable city.

From the day upon which Stark arrived in the camp at Montmorency with the news from Ticonderoga Wolfe began to mend.  It seemed as though the certainty that the English arms were prevailing in the west, though no help could be looked for this season from Amherst, combined to put a sort of new vigour and resolution into the heart of the dauntless young General.  If anything were to be accomplished, he must now do it by his own unaided efforts; and since August was well nigh past, if he were to act at all it must be soon, or the winter storms might come sweeping down, and render his position untenable.