CHAPTER XVII. OF A GREAT ADVENTURE. Macpherson died toward the end of the second week in July, when the city had already begun to suffer the dire extremities of famine. The provisions in the magazines were almost exhausted; the meal and the tallow were doled out with a sparing hand. Already the citizens had begun to live upon food that at other times they would have turned from in disgust and loathing. Horse-flesh was almost becoming a luxury, dogs, rats, and cats were greedily devoured, and even of these the supply was beginning to fail. Putrid fevers had broken out which carried off multitudes; loathsome diseases of the skin grew common, and even the strongest began to find it hard to draw themselves to the walls or to help in repelling the frequent attacks on the outposts. Added to this, there was hardly a whole roof in the city, for during two months the iron hail had been continually pouring upon them. Many of them felt indeed that death would be a welcome relief, and they envied those who were already laid in the churchyard. But still they held out grimly, and with faces blackened with hunger, declared that they were ready to die rather than surrender. The spirit that may still be found here and there in the Imperial Province burned with an unabated flame--a pride which two centuries has not been able to remove, and strong almost to fanaticism. Yet it was not to be wondered at that discontent and suspicion should grow and spread. Some few proved insubordinate, others deserted to the enemy, but for the most part they stood loyally by their leaders. Hamilton who was now in command of the royal troops, believing that the time had come when his overtures would be listened to, had sent a message containing liberal terms, but after some fruitless negotiations, they refused his offer and determined to hold out. A messenger had been able to find his way from the ships with a letter which had revived their hopes a little, but they had lost all faith in Kirke, and looked only with stubborn despair to the time when they could defend themselves no longer. After the death of Macpherson, Gervase had gone about his duty as before, but he had greatly missed the wise and faithful counsellor whose friendly comfort had helped him to bear his trials. The blow that he had sustained had been very great, and he had felt unwilling to face Dorothy Carew while the wound was still fresh. He had determined to observe the old soldier´s dying injunction that she should not know by whose hand he had fallen; and he himself would have desired even if the command had not been laid upon him that she should remain in ignorance of it. He knew that she had already suffered much, and he was desirous of sparing her further pain. Jasper had not appeared again in the city nor was it likely that he would, so that it could serve no purpose of any sort to denounce him as the murderer.