I was led into the yard of the citadel, where was drawn up a
company of soldiers. Gabord bade me stand still, and advanced
towards the officers' quarters. I asked him if I might not walk to
the ramparts and view the scene. He gruffly assented, bidding the
men watch me closely, and I walked over to a point where, standing
three hundred feet above the noble river, I could look out upon its
sweet expanse, across to the Levis shore, with its serried legions
of trees behind, and its bold settlement in front upon the Heights.
There, eastward lay the well-wooded Island of Orleans, and over all
the clear sun and sky, enlivened by a crisp and cheering air. Snow
had fallen, but none now lay upon the ground, and I saw a rare and
winning earth. I stood absorbed. I was recalling that first day
that I remember in my life, when at Balmore my grandfather made
prophecies upon me, and for the first time I was conscious of the
world.
As I stood lost to everything about me, I heard Doltaire's voice
behind, and presently he said over my shoulder, "To wish Captain
Moray a good-morning were superfluous!"
I smiled at him: the pleasure of that scene had given me an
impulse towards good nature even with my enemies.
"The best I ever had," I answered quietly.
"Contrasts are life's delights," he said. "You should thank us.
You have your best day because of our worst dungeon.
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