children of his hostess; therefore it was not without feelings of deep
regret that they heard the news that the regiment to which Duncan
belonged was ordered for embarkation to England, and Duncan was so far
convalescent as to be pronounced quite well enough to join it. Alas
for poor Catharine! she now found that parting with her patient was a
source of the deepest sorrow to her young and guileless heart; nor was
Duncan less moved at the separation from his gentle nurse. It might be
for years, and it might be for ever, he could not tell; but he could
not tear himself away without telling the object of his affections how
dear she was to him, and to whisper a hope that he might yet return
one day to claim her as his bride; and Catharine, weeping and
blushing, promised to wait for that happy day, or to remain single for
his sake.

They say the course of true love never did run smooth; but with the
exception of this great sorrow, the sorrow of separation, the love of
our young Highland soldier and his betrothed knew no other
interruption, for absence served only to strengthen the affection
which was founded on gratitude and esteem.

Two long years passed, however, and the prospect of reunion was yet
distant, when an accident, which disabled Duncan from serving his
country, enabled him to retire with the usual little pension, and
return to Quebec to seek his affianced. Some changes had taken place
during that short period: the widow Perron was dead; Pierre, the gay,
lively-hearted Pierre, was married to a daughter of a lumberer; and
Catharine, who had no relatives in Quebec, had gone up the country
with her brother and his wife, and was living in some little
settlement above Montreal with them.