“Circumstances singularly favoured my design.  Many years afterwards, the regiment formed one of the expedition against Quebec under General Wolfe.  They were commanded by your father, who, in the course of promotion, had obtained the lieutenant-colonelcy; and I observed by the army list, that a subaltern of the same name, whom I presumed to be his eldest son, was in the corps.  Here was a field for my vengeance beyond any I could have hoped for.  I contrived to pass over into Cornwall, the ban of outlawry being still unrepealed; and having procured from my brother a sum sufficient for my necessities, and bade him an eternal farewell, embarked in a fishing-boat for the coast of France, whence I subsequently took a passage to this country.  At Montreal I found the French general, who gladly received my allegiance as a subject of France, and gave me a commission in one of the provincial corps that usually served in concert with our Indian allies.  With the general I soon became a favourite; and, as a mark of his confidence at the attack on Quebec, he entrusted me with the command of a detached irregular force, consisting partly of Canadians and partly of Indians, intended to harass the flanks of the British army.  This gave me an opportunity of being at whatever point of the field I might think most favourable to my design; and I was too familiar with the detested uniform of the regiment not to be able to distinguish it from afar.  In a word, Clara, for I am weary of my own tale, in that engagement I had an opportunity of recognising your brother.  He struck me by his martial appearance as he encouraged his grenadiers to the attack of the French columns; and, as I turned my eye upon him in admiration, I was stung to the soul by his resemblance to his father.  Vengeance thrilled throughout every fibre of my frame at that moment.  The opportunity I had long sought was at length arrived; and already, in anticipation, I enjoyed the conquest his fall would occasion to my enemy.  I rushed within a few feet of my victim; but the bullet aimed at his heart was received in the breast of a faithful soldier, who had flown to intercept it.  How I cursed the meddler for his officiousness!”

“Oh, that soldier was your nephew,” eagerly interrupted Clara, pointing towards her companion, who had fallen into a profound slumber, “the husband of this unfortunate woman.  Frank Halloway (for by that name was he alone known in the regiment) loved my brother as though he had been of the same blood.  He it was who flew to receive the ball that was destined for another.  But I nursed him on his couch of suffering, and with my own hands prepared his food and dressed his wound.  Oh, if pity can touch your heart (and I will not believe that a heart that once felt as you say yours has felt can be inaccessible to pity), let the recollection of your nephew’s devotedness to my mother’s child disarm you of vengeance, and induce you to restore us!”