Presently I asked him if he would bear a message to the Governor,
asking permission for the Seigneur Duvarney to visit me, if he were
so inclined. At his request I wrote my petition out, and he carried
it away with him, saying that I should have Voban that evening.

I waited hour after hour, but no one came. As near as I could
judge it was now evening. It seemed strange to think that, twenty
feet above me, the world was all white with snow; the sound of
sleigh-bells and church-bells, and the cries of snowshoers ringing
on the clear, sharp air. I pictured the streets of Quebec alive
with people: the young seigneur set off with furs and silken sash
and sword or pistols; the long-haired, black-eyed woodsman in his
embroidered moccasins and leggings with flying thrums; the peasant
farmer slapping his hands cheerfully in the lighted market-place;
the petty noble, with his demoiselle, hovering in the precincts of
the Chateau St. Louis and the intendance. Up there were light,
freedom, and the inspiriting frost; down here in my dungeon, the
blades of corn, which, dying, yet never died, told the story of a
choking air, wherein the body and soul of a man droop and take long
to die. This was the night before Christmas Eve, when in England
and Virginia they would be preparing for feasting and thanksgiving.

The memories of past years crowded on me. I thought of feastings
and spendthrift rejoicings in Glasgow and Virginia. All at once
the carnal man in me rose up and damned these lying foes of mine.
Resignation went whistling down the wind. Hang me! Hang me! No, by
the God that gave me breath! I sat back and laughed--laughed at
my own insipid virtue, by which, to keep faith with the fanatical
follower of Prince Charlie, I had refused my liberty; cut myself off