Many a calamity had swept over the land since the day when the relations and friends of Jules had gathered at the manor house to bid him farewell before his departure for France. Among the old men time had made his customary inroads. The enemy had carried fire and sword into the peaceful dwellings of the _habitants_. The famine numbered its victims by the hundred. The soil had been drenched with the blood of its brave defenders. Wind and sea had conspired against many of those brave officers from whom sword and bullet had turned aside. Nature was satiated with the blood of the children of New France. The future was dark indeed for the upper classes, already ruined by the havoc of the enemy, for those who, in laying by the sword, were compelled to lay by the main support of their families, and for those who foresaw that their descendants, reduced to a lower walk in life, would be compelled to till the soil which their valiant ancestors had made illustrious. The city of Quebec, which of old had seemed to brave, upon its hill summit, the thunders of the heaviest guns and the assaults of the most daring battalions, the proud city of Quebec, still incumbered with wreckage, raised itself with difficulty out of its ruins. The British flag streamed triumphant from its overbearing citadel, and the Canadian who, by force of habit, used to raise his eyes to the height in expectation of seeing the lily banner, would drop them again sadly, repeating with a sigh these touching words, "But our good kin will come again." The reader will doubtless be gratified to see his old acquaintances, after so many disasters bravely endured, once more gathered together at a little banquet. This was a feast given by M. D'Haberville in honor of his son's return. Even "the good gentleman" himself, though nearing the close of his century, had responded in person to the summons. Captain des Ecors, a comrade of M. D'Haberville, a brave officer who had been brought to ruin by the conquest, formed with his family a congenial addition to the gathering. One of Jules's kinsfolk who perished in the wreck of the Auguste had left him a small legacy, which brought a new comfort to the D'Habervilles, and enabled them to exercise a hospitality from which they had been long and reluctantly debarred. All the guests were at table, after vainly waiting for the arrival of Lochiel, who was as a rule the most punctual of men. "Well, my friends," said M. D'Haberville, "what think you now of the omens which so saddened me ten years ago? What is your opinion, Monsieur the Curé, of those mysterious warnings which Heaven appeared to send me?"