Part 47 (2/2)

”I would much rather remain and do what I can for the growth of the place than go east again.”

”My orders are decisive,” said the Colonel, rising to his feet, indicating that the conference was over. ”In three days everything must be ready for the march of fifty men under the command of Captain c.u.mmings for Little York, now known as Toronto. I shall also march with the company. As many details have to be attended to, all officers will require to a.s.sist at once in carrying out the arrangements.”

In a very few minutes Sir George was alone in his room. He folded his papers, put them away and, opening the door, said to Emmiline:

”Tell Mrs. Manning that I wish to speak with her.”

Helen soon appeared. She suspected nothing of what had occurred. Still, her eyes were bloodshot. She had been weeping.

”My child,” said the Colonel, taking her hand. ”Come into my room for a moment.” As he closed the door, she looked up into his face with questioning surprise.

”You are a brave girl,” he said, ”and if you were my own daughter I should be proud of you; but there are some things even you cannot bear.

As you know, I have decided to place the care of the Fort in younger hands, but I am not going away alone. Captain c.u.mmings will return to the east with me.

”Oh, thank G.o.d, thank G.o.d!” she exclaimed with a sob, and unable to restrain her feelings any longer, her face flooded with tears.

”Hoity, toity, my dear. I didn't expect all this,” cried the Colonel in distress. ”If I had known things had come to such a pa.s.s I would have sent the rascal away long ago.”

With a strong effort Helen controlled herself.

”Oh, do not mention it again, please,” she pleaded, ”or his name either.

Harold even does not know it. I just thought it was something I had to bear, but it was killing me. How can I ever thank you enough?”

For answer the good old Colonel stooped down and kissed the weeping woman.

Three days later, the fifty men with Sir George and Captain c.u.mmings at their head started for Toronto. Adieux were said, but somehow Lieutenant Smith did not find it necessary to have his conference with the Colonel.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

It was a beautiful day in the autumn when the frigate _Beaver_ pa.s.sed McNab Island and sailed up the long harbor to Halifax. Wonderful tints of the forest, from russet brown through red, orange and yellow, to the dark green of the juniper, stretched out beyond the little city, while orchard trees laden with fruit, pasture lands cropped by the cows, and stubble fields still golden from the harvest, added zest to the outlook of the tired soldiers coming home from the war.

On the deck of the frigate sat Captain Morris, surrounded by a number of men. The sick, the wounded, the well, were there; but they numbered all told scarcely a third of the force that went out hale and buoyant for the conflict only a few months before.

It had been heralded that the Halifax column was returning, and people gathered at the dock to welcome them as they neared the landing. Among the little groups of red-coats standing close together many a face was recognized, and when Captain Morris, aided by a subaltern, rose to his feet, the whole company were greeted with an enthusiastic cheer.

”Another for Captain Morris,” called out a soldier fresh from the Citadel. And they gave it.

”A tiger,” was the next shout.

Again the yell was loud and long. This time the Captain, with long beard and haggard face, limped forward, and with his left hand raised his helmet in acknowledgment.

”It is good to have you home again,” said Colonel Mason, whose carriage was waiting for him. ”You've lost in flesh, Morris, but, egad, you've got it back in glory.”

”How many of my men are dead, though,” returned Morris, with a ghastly smile, ”and the poor devils who were wounded. See yonder man with both legs shot off by a cannon ball, and the two at the side there, each minus an arm.”

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