I told him as discreetly as I could of poor Lucy's condition, and he bore up astonishingly well. What seemed to trouble him greatly was the thought that he had never dreamed of the possibility of her being ill. "Even though she was a prisoner I never feared she would be hardly treated; no one could so cruel to my mother, she is so gentle!" the poor lad continued. "I knew you were with her, and I never thought of the other danger at all. I was so happy when I fell into English hands and was allowed to enlist in Boston, and in Fraser's Highlanders, too, not in a Colony regiment; and when we found there was no danger of peace being proclaimed, and that we were for Quebec, we were all mad with joy to have another crack at the French. Oh, pardon me, madame; I forgot you were on their side," he cried, with a sudden confusion; "and I never doubted for a moment I should find her here." The next day the surgeon pronounced him out of all possible danger, and added, significantly, "If his mother is to see him, it is best it should be at once." Thereupon I obtained the necessary permission, and never have I seen greater joy in a face than in Lucy's, when I ushered Christopher into her room. That same evening, as I sate beside her, though she lay quiet and composed, I noticed a grave change had come over her, and calling one of the sisters who had had much experience, she at once said the end was near. With the permission of the Superior I went for Christopher, and led him, white and awe--struck, to the bedside of his mother. She asked that I would not leave--"if it be not a trouble to you, madame," the poor thing pleaded, pitifully--and I remained beside them.