“Now lay me down again,” he said faintly.  “Farewell, my trusty friend and comrade.  Take my love to those at home; remember my last messages.  God be thanked; He has given us the victory.  I can die in peace.”

He drew a long sigh, and his eyes closed.  A little thrill ran through the worn frame.

Julian laid it down, and reverently covered the peaceful face; whilst a stifled sob went up from those who saw the action.

James Wolfe had gone to his rest—­had died the death of a hero upon the victorious battlefield.

Book 7:  English Victors.

Chapter 1:  A Panic-Stricken City.

It had come at last!  The long delay and suspense were over.  The English had stormed the Heights of Abraham.  Their long red lines had been seen by terrified citizens, who came rushing into the town at dawn of day.  The supposed attack at Beauport had been nothing but a blind.  Whilst Montcalm and Vaudreuil were massing the troops to repel the enemy here, the real assault had been made behind the city, and the English foe was almost upon them.

Colin had dashed out when the first grey of the dawn had stolen in at their windows.  There had been no sleep for Quebec that night.  The whole city was in a state of tense excitement.  Confidently had the Generals declared that the enemy were bent upon their own destruction; that they were about to tempt fate, and would be driven back with ignominy and loss.

“Let them come!  Let them taste of the welcome we have to offer them!  Let them see what Quebec has to give them when they reach her strand!”

These words, and many similar to them, were passed from mouth to mouth by the garrison and townsfolk of Quebec.  None would admit that disaster was possible to “the impregnable city;” and yet its shattered walls and ruined houses, the crowded hospital and the deserted buildings, all told a terrible tale.  The upper town had suffered lately almost as severely as the lower had done at the commencement of the bombardment.  It was a problem now where to find safe shelter for the citizens.  Great numbers of them had fled to the country beyond, or to other Canadian settlements; for not only was this terrible bombardment destroying their homes, and inflicting fearful hurt upon those exposed to it, but provisions were becoming very scarce; and if the English once got foothold on the west side of the town, they would be able to cut off Quebec from her source of supply.

Colin dashed out for tidings so soon as the dawn crept into the sky; and Madame Drucour and Corinne sat very close together, so absorbed in listening that they could scarce find words in which to reassure each other.