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diff --git a/26692-h/26692-h.htm b/26692-h/26692-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..16707bf --- /dev/null +++ b/26692-h/26692-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9311 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" +"http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Daughter of Raasay, by William MacLeod Raine</title> + +<style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: 0.5em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: 0.5em;} + body {margin-left: 11%; margin-right: 10%;} + a {text-decoration: none;} + h3 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.2em;} + .pncolor {color: silver;} + .footnote .label {position: absolute; right: 84%; text-align: right;} + .footnote {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-size: 0.9em;} + .fnanchor {vertical-align: super; font-size: .8em; text-decoration: none;} + .figcenter {margin: 2em auto 2em auto; text-align: center;} + div.ce p {text-align: center; margin: auto 0;} + .caption {font-size:.8em;} + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; clear: both;} + .blockquot {margin-left:5%; margin-right:5%;} + .pagenum {display: inline; font-size: x-small; text-align: right; position: absolute; right: 2%; padding: 1px 3px; font-style: normal; font-variant:normal; font-weight:normal; text-decoration: none; background-color: inherit; border:1px solid #eee;} + hr.major {width: 65%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both;} + div.ra p {text-align: right; margin: auto 0;} + hr.silver {width: 100%; margin-top: 2em; margin-bottom: 2em; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid silver;} + h2 {text-align:center; font-weight:normal; font-size: 1.4em;} + +</style> + +</head> +<body> + +<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of A Daughter of Raasay, by William MacLeod Raine</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and +most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions +whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms +of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online +at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you +are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the +country where you are located before using this eBook. +</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: A Daughter of Raasay<br /> + A Tale of the ’45</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: William MacLeod Raine</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Stuart Travis</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: September 23, 2008 [eBook #26692]<br /> +[Most recently updated: December 11, 2022]</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> +<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Roger Frank and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team</div> +<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAUGHTER OF RAASAY ***</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:2.2em; margin-top:1em;'>A DAUGHTER</p> +<p style=' font-size:2.2em;'>OF RAASAY</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.6em; margin-top:.6em; margin-bottom:2em; font-style:italic;'>A TALE OF THE ’45</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'><i>By</i> <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>WILLIAM MacLEOD RAINE</span></p> +<p style=' font-size:1em; margin-bottom:3em;'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Illustrated by STUART TRAVIS</span></p> +</div> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-emb.png' alt='' title='' /><br /> +</div> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-top:2.2em;'><i>NEW YORK</i> · FREDERICK A.</p> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em; margin-bottom:2em;'>STOKES COMPANY · <i>PUBLISHERS</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce' style=' font-size:0.8em;'> +<p><i>Copyright, 1901, by</i></p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Frank Leslie Publishing House</span></p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p><i>Copyright, 1902, by</i></p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Frederick A. Stokes Company</span></p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p><i>All rights reserved</i></p> +<div style='margin-top:1em'></div> +<p>Published in October, 1902</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='figcenter'> +<img src='images/illus-fpc.jpg' alt='' title='' style='width: 441px; height: 650px;' /><br /> +<p class='caption' style='margin: 0 auto; text-align:center;width: 441px;'> +AILEEN<br /> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>TO</p> +<p>MR. ELLERY SEDGWICK</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.4em; margin-bottom:1em;'>Contents</p> +</div> + +<table border='0' width='500' cellpadding='2' cellspacing='0' summary='Contents' style='margin:1em auto;'> +<tr> + <td align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'><span style='font-size:small;'>CHAPTER</span></td> + <td></td> + <td align='right'><span style='font-size:small;'>PAGE</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>I.</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Sport of Chance</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#I_THE_SPORT_OF_CHANCE'>1</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>II</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Cry in the Night</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#II_A_CRY_IN_THE_NIGHT'>19</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>III</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Deoch Slaint an Righ!</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#III_DEOCH_SLAINT_AN_RIGH'>39</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Of Love and War</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IV_OF_LOVE_AND_WAR'>60</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>V</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Hue and Cry</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#V_THE_HUE_AND_CRY'>79</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>In The Matter of a Kiss</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VI_IN_THE_MATTER_OF_A_KISS'>99</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>My Lady Rages</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VII_MY_LADY_RAGES'>116</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>VIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Charles Edward Stuart</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#VIII_CHARLES_EDWARD_STUART'>133</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>IX</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Blue Bonnets are Over the Border</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#IX_BLUE_BONNETS_ARE_OVER_THE_BORDER'>151</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>X</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Culloden</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#X_CULLODEN'>159</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Red Heather Hills</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XI_THE_RED_HEATHER_HILLS'>180</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Volney Pays a Debt</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XII_VOLNEY_PAYS_A_DEBT'>202</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Little God has an Innings</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIII_THE_LITTLE_GOD_HAS_AN_INNINGS'>223</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XIV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Aftermath</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XIV_THE_AFTERMATH'>231</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XV</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>A Reprieve!</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XV_A_REPRIEVE'>251</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVI</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Volney’s Guest</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVI_VOLNEY_S_GUEST'>266</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Valley of the Shadow</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVII_THE_VALLEY_OF_THE_SHADOW'>278</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'>XVIII</td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Shadow Falls</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#XVIII_THE_SHADOW_FALLS'>297</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td valign='top' align='right' style='padding-right:1em;'></td> + <td valign='top' align='left'><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>The Afterword</span> </td> + <td valign='bottom' align='right'><a href='#THE_AFTERWORD'>309</a></td> +</tr> +</table> +<hr class='silver' /> + +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style=' font-size:1.2em;text-align: center;'><i>The Ladies of St. James’s</i></p> +<br /> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The ladies of St. James’s</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Go swinging to the play;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Their footmen run before them</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>With a “Stand by! Clear the way!”</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>She takes her buckled shoon.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>When we go out a-courting</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Beneath the harvest moon.</p> +<br /> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The ladies of St. James’s!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>They are so fine and fair,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>You’d think a box of essences</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Was broken in the air:</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>The breath of heath and furze</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>When breezes blow at morning,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Is not so fresh as hers.</p> +<br /> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The ladies of St. James’s!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>They’re painted to the eyes;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Their white it stays forever,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Their red it never dies:</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Her colour comes and goes;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>It trembles to a lily,—</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>It wavers like a rose.</p> +<br /> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The ladies of St. James’s!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>You scarce can understand</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The half of all their speeches,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Their phrases are so grand:</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Her shy and simple words</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Are clear as after raindrops</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>The music of the birds.</p> +<br /> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The ladies of St. James’s!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>They have their fits and freaks;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>They smile on you—for seconds;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>They frown on you—for weeks:</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But Phyllida, my Phyllida!</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Come either storm or shine,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>From shrovetide unto shrovetide</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Is always true—and mine.</p> +<br /> +<p style='text-align: right;'><i>Austin Dobson.</i></p> +</td></tr></table> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div class='ce'> +<p>FOREWORD</p> +</div> + +<p>When this romance touches history the author +believes that it is, in every respect, +with one possible exception, in accord with +the accepted facts. In detailing the history of “the +‘45’” and the sufferings of the misguided gentlemen +who flung away the scabbard out of loyalty to a +worthless cause, care has been taken to make the +story agree with history. The writer does not of +course indorse the view of Prince Charles’ character +herein set forth by Kenneth Montagu, but there is +abundant evidence to show that the Young Chevalier +had in a very large degree those qualities which were +lacking to none of the Stuarts: a charming personality +and a gallant bearing. If his later life did not fulfil +the promise of his youth, the unhappy circumstances +which hampered him should be kept in mind as an +extenuation.</p> +<p>The thanks of the writer are due for pertinent criticism +to Miss Chase, to Mr. Arthur Chapman and to +Mr. James Rain, and especially to Mr. Ellery Sedgwick, +whose friendly interest and kindly encouragement +have been unfailing.</p> +<p>Acknowledgment must also be made of a copious +use of Horace Walpole’s Letters, the Chevalier Johnstone’s +History of the Rebellion, and other eighteenth +century sources of information concerning the incidents +of the times. The author has taken the liberty +of using several anecdotes and <i>bon mots</i> mentioned in +the “Letters”; but he has in each case put the story +in the mouth of its historical originator.</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p>W. M. R.</p> +</div> + +<hr class='silver' /> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_1' name='page_1'></a>1</span></div> +<div class='ce'> +<p style=' font-size:1.8em;'>A Daughter of Raasay</p> +</div> + +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 0em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='I_THE_SPORT_OF_CHANCE' id='I_THE_SPORT_OF_CHANCE'></a> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<h3>THE SPORT OF CHANCE</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Deep play!” I heard Major Wolfe whisper +to Lord Balmerino. “Can Montagu’s estate +stand such a drain?”</p> +<p>“No. He will be dipped to the last pound before +midnight. ’Tis Volney’s doing. He has angled for +Montagu a se’nnight, and now he has hooked him. +I have warned the lad, but——”</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>The Scotchman was right. I was past all caution +now, past all restraint. The fever of play had gripped +me, and I would listen to nothing but the rattle of that +little box which makes the most seductive music ever +sung by siren. My Lord Balmerino might stand behind +me in silent protest till all was grey, and though +he had been twenty times my father’s friend he would +not move me a jot.</p> +<p>Volney’s smoldering eyes looked across the table +at me.</p> +<p>“Your cast, Kenn. Shall we say doubles? You’ll +nick this time for sure.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_2' name='page_2'></a>2</span></p> +<p>“Done! Nine’s the main,” I cried, and threw +deuces.</p> +<p>With that throw down crashed fifty ancestral oaks +that had weathered the storms of three hundred winters. +I had crabbed, not nicked.</p> +<p>“The fickle goddess is not with you to-day, Kenn. +The jade jilts us all at times,” drawled Volney, as he +raked in his winnings carelessly.</p> +<p>“Yet I have noted that there are those whom she +forsakes not often, and I have wondered by what +charmed talisman they hold her true,” flashed out +Balmerino.</p> +<p>The steel flickered into Volney’s eyes. He understood +it for no chance remark, but as an innuendo +tossed forth as a challenge. Of all men Sir Robert +Volney rode on the crest of fortune’s wave, and there +were not lacking those who whispered that his invariable +luck was due to something more than chance +and honest skill. For me, I never believed the charge. +With all his faults Volney had the sportsman’s love of +fair play.</p> +<p>The son of a plain country gentleman, he had come +to be by reason of his handsome face, his reckless +courage, his unfailing impudence, and his gift of +<i>savoir-vivre</i>, the most notorious and fortunate of the +adventurers who swarmed at the court of St. James. +By dint of these and kindred qualities he had become +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_3' name='page_3'></a>3</span> +an intimate companion of the Prince of Wales. The +man had a wide observation of life; indeed, he was +an interested and whimsical observer rather than an +actor, and a scoffer always. A libertine from the head +to the heel of him, yet gossip marked him as the +future husband of the beautiful young heiress Antoinette +Westerleigh. For the rest, he carried an +itching sword and the smoothest tongue that ever +graced a villain. I had been proud that such a man +had picked me for his friend, entirely won by the +charm of manner that made his more evil faults sit +gracefully on him.</p> +<p>Volney declined for the present the quarrel that +Balmerino’s impulsive loyalty to me would have fixed +on him. He feared no living man, but he was no hothead +to be drawn from his purpose. If Lord Balmerino +wanted to measure swords with him he would accommodate +the old Scotch peer with the greatest +pleasure on earth, but not till the time fitted him. He +answered easily:</p> +<p>“I know no talisman but this, my Lord; in luck +and out of luck to bear a smiling front, content with +the goods the gods may send.”</p> +<p>It was a fair hit, for Balmerino was well known +as an open malcontent and suspected of being a +Jacobite.</p> +<p>“Ah! The goods sent by the gods! A pigeon +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_4' name='page_4'></a>4</span> +for the plucking—the lad you have called friend!” +retorted the other.</p> +<p>“Take care, my Lord,” warningly.</p> +<p>“But there are birds it is not safe to pluck,” +continued Balmerino, heedless of his growing +anger.</p> +<p>“Indeed!”</p> +<p>“As even Sir Robert Volney may find out. An +eaglet is not wisely chosen for such purpose.”</p> +<p>It irritated me that they should thrust and parry +over my shoulder, as if I had been but a boy instead +of full three months past my legal majority. Besides, +I had no mind to have them letting each other’s blood +on my account.</p> +<p>“Rat it, ’tis your play, Volney. You keep us +waiting,” I cried.</p> +<p>“You’re in a devilish hurry to be quit of your +shekels,” laughed the Irishman O’Sullivan, who sat +across the table from me. “Isn’t there a proverb, Mr. +Montagu, about a—a careless gentleman and his +money going different ways, begad? Don’t keep him +waiting any longer than need be, Volney.”</p> +<p>There is this to be said for the Macaronis, that they +plucked their pigeon with the most graceful negligence +in the world. They might live by their wits, +but they knew how to wear always the jauntiest indifference +of manner. Out came the feathers with a sure +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_5' name='page_5'></a>5</span> +hand, the while they exchanged choice <i>bon mots</i> and +racy scandal. Hazard was the game we played and +I, Kenneth Montagu, was cast for the rôle of the +pigeon. Against these old gamesters I had no chance +even if the play had been fair, and my head on it more +than one of them rooked me from start to finish. I +was with a vast deal of good company, half of whom +were rogues and blacklegs.</p> +<p>“Heard George Selwyn’s latest?”<a name="FNanchor_1" id="FNanchor_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> inquired Lord +Chesterfield languidly.</p> +<p>“Not I. Threes, devil take it!” cried O’Sullivan +in a pet.</p> +<p>“Tell it, Horry. It’s your story,” drawled the +fourth Earl of Chesterfield.</p> +<p>“Faith, and that’s soon done,” answered Walpole. +“George and I were taking the air down the Mall +arm in arm yesterday just after the fellow Fox was +hanged for cutting purses, and up comes our Fox to +quiz George. Says he, knowing Selwyn’s penchant +for horrors, ‘George, were you at the execution of +my namesake?’ Selwyn looks him over in his droll +way from head to foot and says, ‘Lard, no! I never +attend rehearsals, Fox.’”</p> +<p>“’Tis the first he has missed for years then. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_6' name='page_6'></a>6</span> +Selwyn is as regular as Jack Ketch himself. Your +throw, Montagu,” put in O’Sullivan.</p> +<p>“Seven’s the main, and by the glove of Helen I +crab. Saw ever man such cursed luck?” I cried.</p> +<p>“’Tis vile. Luck’s mauling you fearfully to-night,” +agreed Volney languidly. Then, apropos of +the hanging, “Ketch turned off that fellow Dr. Dodd +too. There was a shower, and the prison chaplain +held an umbrella over Dodd’s head. Gilly Williams +said it wasn’t necessary, as the Doctor was going to a +place where he might be easily dried.”</p> +<p>“Egad, ’tis his greatest interest in life,” chuckled +Walpole, harking back to Selwyn. “When George +has a tooth pulled he drops his kerchief as a signal +for the dentist to begin the execution.”</p> +<p>Old Lord Pam’s toothless gums grinned appreciation +of the jest as he tottered from the room to take a +chair for a rout at which he was due.</p> +<p>“Faith, and it’s a wonder how that old Methuselah +hangs on year after year,” said O’Sullivan bluntly, before +the door had even closed on the octogenarian. +“He must be a thousand if he’s a day.”</p> +<p>“The fact is,” explained Chesterfield confidentially, +“that old Pam has been dead for several years, but +he doesn’t choose to have it known. Pardon me, am +I delaying the game?”</p> +<p>He was not, and he knew it; but my Lord Chesterfield +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_7' name='page_7'></a>7</span> +was far too polite to more than hint to Topham +Beauclerc that he had fallen asleep over his +throw. Selwyn and Lord March lounged into the +coffee house arm in arm. On their heels came Sir +James Craven, the choicest blackleg in England.</p> +<p>“How d’ye do, everybody? Whom are you and +O’Sully rooking to-night, Volney? Oh, I see—Montagu. +Beg pardon,” said Craven coolly.</p> +<p>Volney looked past the man with a wooden face +that did not even recognize the fellow as a blot on +the landscape. There was bad blood between the two +men, destined to end in a tragedy. Sir James had +been in the high graces of Frederick Prince of Wales +until the younger and more polished Volney had +ousted him. On the part of the coarse and burly +Craven, there was enduring hatred toward his easy +and elegant rival, who paid back his malice with a +serene contempt. Noted duellist as Craven was, Sir +Robert did not give a pinch of snuff for his rage.</p> +<p>The talk veered to the new fashion of spangled +skirts, and Walpole vowed that Lady Coventry’s new +dress was covered with spangles big as a shilling.</p> +<p>“’Twill be convenient for Coventry. She’ll be +change for a guinea,” suggested Selwyn gloomily, his +solemn face unlighted by the vestige of a smile.</p> +<p>So they jested, even when the play was deepest and +while long-inherited family manors passed out of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_8' name='page_8'></a>8</span> +hands of their owners. The recent French victory at +<i>Fontenoy</i> still rankled in the heart of every Englishman. +Within, the country seethed with an undercurrent +of unrest and dissatisfaction. It was said that +there were those who boasted quietly among themselves +over their wine that the sun would yet rise +some day on a Stuart England, that there were desperate +men still willing to risk their lives in blind loyalty +or in the gambler’s spirit for the race of Kings +that had been discarded for its unworthiness. But the +cut of his Mechlin lace ruffles was more to the Macaroni +than his country’s future. He made his jest with +the same aplomb at births and weddings and deaths.</p> +<p>Each fresh minute of play found me parted from +some heirloom treasured by Montagus long since +dust. In another half hour Montagu Grange was +stripped of timber bare as the Row itself. Once, between +games, I strolled uneasily down the room, and +passing the long looking glass scarce recognized the +haggard face that looked out at me. Still I played +on, dogged and wretched, not knowing how to withdraw +myself from these elegant dandies who were +used to win or lose a fortune at a sitting with imperturbable +face.</p> +<p>Lord Balmerino gave me a chance. He clapped a +hand on my shoulder and said in his brusque kindly +way— +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_9' name='page_9'></a>9</span></p> +<p>“Enough, lad! You have dropped eight thou’ to-night. +Let the old family pictures still hang on the +walls.”</p> +<p>I looked up, flushed and excited, yet still sane +enough to know his advice was good. In the strong +sallow face of Major James Wolfe I read the same +word. I knew the young soldier slightly and liked +him with a great respect, though I could not know +that this grave brilliant-eyed young man was later to +become England’s greatest soldier and hero. I had +even pushed back my chair to rise from the table +when the cool gibing voice of Volney cut in.</p> +<p>“The eighth wonder of the world; Lord Balmerino +in a new rôle—adviser to young men of fashion +who incline to enjoy life. Are you by any chance +thinking of becoming a ranting preacher, my +Lord?”</p> +<p>“I bid him do as I say and not as I have done. +To point my case I cite myself as an evil example of +too deep play.”</p> +<p>“Indeed, my Lord! Faith, I fancied you had in +mind even deeper play for the future. A vastly +interesting game, this of politics. You stake your +head that you can turn a king and zounds! you play +the deuce instead.”</p> +<p>Balmerino looked at him blackly out of a face cut +in frowning marble, but Volney leaned back carelessly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_10' name='page_10'></a>10</span> +in his chair and his insolent eyes never +flickered.</p> +<p>As I say, I sat swithering ’twixt will and will-not.</p> +<p>“Better come, Kenneth! The luck is against you +to-night,” urged Balmerino, his face relaxing as he +turned to me.</p> +<p>Major Wolfe said nothing, but his face too invited +me.</p> +<p>“Yes, better go back to school and be birched,” +sneered Volney.</p> +<p>And at that I flung back into my seat with a curse, +resolute to show him I was as good a man as he. My +grim-faced guardian angel washed his hands of me +with a Scotch proverb.</p> +<p>“He that will to Cupar maun to Cupar. The lad +will have to gang his ain gate,” I heard him tell +Wolfe as they strolled away.</p> +<p>Still the luck held against me. Before I rose from +the table two hours later I wrote out notes for a total +so large that I knew the Grange must be mortgaged +to the roof to satisfy it.</p> +<p>Volney lolled in his chair and hid a yawn behind +tapering pink finger-nails. “’Slife, you had a cursed +run of the ivories to-night, Kenn! When are you +for your revenge? Shall we say to-morrow? Egad, +I’m ready to sleep round the clock. Who’ll take a +seat in my coach? I’m for home.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_11' name='page_11'></a>11</span></p> +<p>I pushed into the night with a burning fever in my +blood, and the waves of damp mist which enveloped +London and beat upon me, gathering great drops of +moisture on my cloak, did not suffice to cool the fire +that burnt me up. The black dog Care hung heavy on +my shoulders. I knew now what I had done. Fool +that I was, I had mortgaged not only my own heritage +but also the lives of my young brother Charles and +my sister Cloe. Our father had died of apoplexy +without a will, and a large part of his personal +property had come to me with the entailed estate. +The provision for the other two had been of the +slightest, and now by this one wild night of play I +had put it out of my power to take care of them. I +had better clap a pistol to my head and be done with it.</p> +<p>Even while the thought was in my mind a hand out +of the night fell on my shoulder from behind. I +turned with a start, and found myself face to face with +the Scotchman Balmerino.</p> +<p>“Whither away, Kenneth?” he asked.</p> +<p>I laughed bitterly. “What does it matter? A +broken gambler—a ruined dicer— What is there +left for him?”</p> +<p>The Scotch Lord linked an arm through mine. I +had liefer have been alone, but I could scarce tell him +so. He had been a friend of my father and had done +his best to save me from my folly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_12' name='page_12'></a>12</span></p> +<p>“There is much left. All is not lost. I have a +word to say to your father’s son.”</p> +<p>“What use!” I cried rudely. “You would lock +the stable after the horse is stolen.”</p> +<p>“Say rather that I would put you in the way of +getting another horse,” he answered gravely.</p> +<p>So gravely that I looked at him twice before I +answered:</p> +<p>“And I would be blithe to find a way, for split +me! as things look now I must either pistol myself or +take to the road and pistol others,” I told him +gloomily.</p> +<p>“There are worse things than to lose one’s +wealth——”</p> +<p>“I hear you say it, but begad! I do not know +them,” I answered with a touch of anger at his calmness.</p> +<p>“——When the way is open to regain all one has +lost and more,” he finished, unheeding my interruption.</p> +<p>“Well, this way you speak of,” I cried impatiently. +“Where is it?”</p> +<p>He looked at me searchingly, as one who would +know the inmost secrets of my soul. Under a guttering +street light he stopped me and read my face line +by line. I dare swear he found there a recklessness +to match his own and perhaps some trace of the +loyalty for which he looked. Presently he said, as +the paving stones echoed to our tread:— +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_13' name='page_13'></a>13</span></p> +<p>“You have your father’s face, Kenn. I mind him a +lad just like you when we went out together in the +’15 for the King. Those were great days—great +days. I wonder——”</p> +<p>His unfinished sentence tailed out into a meditative +silence. His voice and eyes told of a mind reminiscent +of the past and perhaps dreamful of the future. +Yet awhile, and he snatched himself back into the +present.</p> +<p>“Six hours ago I should not have proposed this +desperate remedy for your ills. You had a stake in +the country then, but now you are as poor in this +world’s gear as Arthur Elphinstone himself. When +one has naught but life at stake he will take greater +risks. I have a man’s game to play. Are you for it, lad?”</p> +<p>I hesitated, a prophetic divination in my mind that +I stood in a mist at the parting of life’s ways.</p> +<p>“You have thrown all to-night—and lost. I offer +you another cut at Fortune’s cards. You might even +turn a king.”</p> +<p>He said it with a quiet steadfastness in which I seemed +to detect an undercurrent of strenuous meaning. I +stopped, and in my turn looked long at him. What +did he mean? Volney’s words came to my mind. I +began to piece together rumours I had heard but never +credited. I knew that even now men dreamed of a +Stuart restoration. If Arthur Elphinstone of Balmerino +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_14' name='page_14'></a>14</span> +were one of these I knew him to be of a reckless +daring mad enough to attempt it.</p> +<p>“My Lord, you say I might turn a king,” I repeated +slowly. “’Tis more like that I would play the +knave. You speak in riddles. I am no guesser of +them. You must be plain.”</p> +<p>Still he hung back from a direct answer. “You are +dull to-night, Kenn. I have known you more gleg at +the uptake, but if you will call on me to-morrow +night I shall make all plain to you.”</p> +<p>We were arrived at the door of his lodgings, a mean +house in a shabby neighbourhood, for my Lord was +as poor as a church mouse despite his title. I left him +here, and the last words I called over my shoulder to +him were,</p> +<p>“Remember, I promise nothing.”</p> +<p>It may be surmised that as I turned my steps back +toward my rooms in Arlington Street I found much +matter for thought. I cursed the folly that had led +me to offer myself a dupe to these hawks of the +gaming table. I raged in a stress of heady passion +against that fair false friend Sir Robert Volney. And +always in the end my mind jumped back to dally with +Balmerino’s temptation to recoup my fallen fortunes +with one desperate throw.</p> +<p>“Fraoch! Dh ’aindeoin co theireadh e!” (The +Heath! Gainsay who dare!) +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_15' name='page_15'></a>15</span></p> +<p>The slogan echoed and reechoed through the silent +streets, and snatched me in an instant out of the +abstraction into which I had fallen. Hard upon the +cry there came to me the sound of steel ringing upon +steel. I legged it through the empty road, flung myself +round a corner, and came plump upon the combatants. +The defendant was a lusty young fellow +apparently about my own age, of extraordinary +agility and no mean skill with the sword. He was +giving a good account of himself against the four +assailants who hemmed him against the wall, his point +flashing here and there with swift irregularity to daunt +their valiancy. At the moment when I appeared to +create a diversion one of the four had flung himself +down and forward to cling about the knees of their +victim with intent to knife him at close quarters. The +young man dared not shorten his sword length to +meet this new danger. He tried to shake off the +man, caught at his white throat and attempted to force +him back, what time his sword still opposed the rest +of the villains.</p> +<p>Then I played my small part in the entertainment. +One of the rascals screamed out an oath at sight of +me and turned to run. I pinked him in the shoulder, +and at the same time the young swordsman fleshed +another of them. The man with the knife scrambled +to his feet, a ludicrous picture of ghastly terror. To +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_16' name='page_16'></a>16</span> +make short, in another minute there was nothing to be +seen of the cutpurses but flying feet scampering +through the night.</p> +<p>The young gentleman turned to me with a bow +that was never invented out of France. I saw now +that he was something older than myself, tall, well-made, +and with a fine stride to him that set off the +easy grace of his splendid shoulders. His light steady +blue eyes and his dark ruddy hair proclaimed him the +Highlander. His face was not what would be called +handsome: the chin was over-square and a white scar +zigzagged across his cheek, but I liked the look of +him none the less for that. His frank manly countenance +wore the self-reliance of one who has lived among +the hills and slept among the heather under countless +stars. For dress he wore the English costume with +the extra splash of colour that betokened the vanity +of his race. “’Fore God, sir, you came none too +soon,” he cried in his impetuous Gaelic way. “This +riff-raff of your London town had knifed me in another +gliff. I will be thinking that it would have gone +ill with me but for your opportune arrival. I am +much beholden to you, and if ever I can pay the debt +do not fail to call on Don—er—James Brown.”</p> +<p>At the last words he fell to earth most precipitately, +all the fervent ring dropping out of his voice. Now +James Brown is a common name enough, but he happened +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_17' name='page_17'></a>17</span> +to be the first of the name I had ever heard +crying a Highland slogan in the streets of London, +and I looked at him with something more than +curiosity. I am a Scotchman myself on the mother’s +side, so that I did not need to have a name put to his +nationality.</p> +<p>There was the touch of a smile on my face when I +asked him if he were hurt. He gave me the benefit +of his full seventy three inches and told me no, that +he would think shame of himself if he could not keep +his head with his hands from a streetful of such scum. +And might he know the name of the unknown friend +who had come running out of the night to lend him +an arm?</p> +<p>“Kenneth Montagu,” I told him, laughing at his enthusiasm.</p> +<p>“Well then, Mr. Kenneth Montagu, it’s the good +friend you’ve been to me this night, and I’ll not be +forgetting it.”</p> +<p>“When I find myself attacked by footpads I’ll just +look up Mr. James Brown,” I told him dryly with intent +to plague.</p> +<p>He took the name sourly, no doubt in an itching to +blurt out that he was a Mac-something or other. To +a Gaelic gentleman like him the Sassenach name he +used for a convenience was gall and wormwood.</p> +<p>We walked down the street together, and where our +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_18' name='page_18'></a>18</span> +ways parted near Arlington Street he gave me his +hand.</p> +<p>“The lucky man am I at meeting you, Mr. Montagu, +while we were having the bit splore down the +street. I was just weanying for a lad handy with his +blade, and the one I would be choosing out of all England +came hot-foot round the corner.”</p> +<p>I made nothing of what I had done, but yet his +Highland friendliness and flatteries were balm to a +sick heart and we parted at my door with a great deal +of good-will.</p> + +<hr style='width: 10%; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both; margin: 2em auto 1em 0' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_1' id='Footnote_1'></a><a href='#FNanchor_1'><span class='label'>[1]</span></a> +<p style='font-size: small'> The author takes an early opportunity to express his obligations to the letters of Horace Walpole who was himself so infinitely indebted to the conversation of his cronies.</p></div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='II_A_CRY_IN_THE_NIGHT' id='II_A_CRY_IN_THE_NIGHT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_19' name='page_19'></a>19</span> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<h3>A CRY IN THE NIGHT</h3> +</div> + +<p>“Past ten o’clock, and a clear starry night!” +the watch was bawling as I set out from my +rooms to keep my appointment with Lord Balmerino. +I had little doubt that a Stuart restoration +was the cause for which he was recruiting, and all day +I had balanced in my mind the pros and cons of such +an attempt. I will never deny that the exiled race +held for me a strong fascination. The Stuarts may +have been weak, headstrong Kings in their prosperity, +but they had the royal virtue of drawing men to +them in their misfortune. They were never so well +loved, nor so worthy of it, as when they lived in exile +at St. Germains. Besides, though I had never mixed +with politics, I was a Jacobite by inheritance. My +father had fought for a restoration, and my uncle had +died for it.</p> +<p>There were no fast bound ties to hold me back. +Loyalty to the Hanoverians had no weight with me. +I was a broken man, and save for my head could lose +nothing by the venture. The danger of the enterprise +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_20' name='page_20'></a>20</span> +was a merit in my eyes, for I was in the mood +when a man will risk his all on an impulse.</p> +<p>And yet I hung back. After all an Englishman, +be he never so desperate, does not fling away the scabbard +without counting the cost. Young as I was I +grued at the thought of the many lives that would be +cut off ere their time, and in my heart I distrusted the +Stuarts and doubted whether the game were worth the +candle.</p> +<p>I walked slowly, for I was not yet due at the lodgings +of Balmerino for an hour, and as I stood hesitating +at a street corner a chaise sheered past me at a +gallop. Through the coach window by the shine of +the moon I caught one fleeting glimpse of a white +frightened girl-face, and over the mouth was clapped a +rough hand to stifle any cry she might give. I am no +Don Quixote, but there never was a Montagu who +waited for the cool second thought to crowd out the +strong impulse of the moment. I made a dash at the +step, missed my footing, and rolled over into the mud. +When I got to my feet again the coach had stopped +at the far end of the street. Two men were getting +out of the carriage holding between them a slight +struggling figure. For one instant the clear shrill cry +of a woman was lifted into the night, then it was cut +short abruptly by the clutch of a hand at the throat.</p> +<p>I scudded toward them, lugging at my sword as I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_21' name='page_21'></a>21</span> +ran, but while I was yet fifty yards away the door of +the house opened and closed behind them. An instant, +and the door reopened to let out one of the +men, who slammed it behind him and entered the +chaise. The postilion whipped up his horses and +drove off. The door yielded nothing to my hand. +Evidently it was locked and bolted. I cried out to +open, and beat wildly upon the door with the hilt of +my sword. Indeed, I quite lost my head, threatening, +storming, and abusing. I might as well have called +upon the marble busts at the Abbey to come forth, +for inside there was the silence of the dead. Presently +lights began to glimmer in windows along the +dark street, and nightcapped heads were thrust out to +learn what was ado. I called on them to join me in a +rescue, but I found them not at all keen for the adventure. +They took me for a drunken Mohawk or +some madman escaped from custody.</p> +<p>“Here come the watch to take him away,” I heard +one call across the street to another.</p> +<p>I began to realize that an attempt to force an entrance +was futile. It would only end in an altercation +with the approaching watch. Staid citizens were +already pointing me out to them as a cause of the disturbance. +For the moment I elected discretion and +fled incontinent down the street from the guard.</p> +<p>But I was back before ten minutes were up, lurking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_22' name='page_22'></a>22</span> +in the shadows of opposite doorways, examining the +house from front and rear, searching for some means +of ingress to this mysterious dwelling. I do not +know why the thing stuck in my mind. Perhaps +some appealing quality of youth in the face and voice +stirred in me the instinct for the championship of +dames that is to be found in every man. At any rate +I was grimly resolved not to depart without an explanation +of the strange affair.</p> +<p>What no skill of mine could accomplish chance did +for me. While I was inviting a crick in my neck +from staring up at the row of unlighted windows +above me, a man came out of the front door and +stood looking up and down the street. Presently he +spied me and beckoned. I was all dishevelled and +one stain of mud from head to foot.</p> +<p>“D’ ye want to earn a shilling, fellow?” he called.</p> +<p>I grumbled that I was out of work and money. +Was it likely I would refuse such a chance? And +what was it he would have me do?</p> +<p>He led the way through the big, dimly-lighted hall +to an up-stairs room near the back of the house. +Two heavy boxes were lying there, packed and +corded, to be taken down-stairs. I tossed aside my +cloak and stooped to help him. He straightened with +a jerk. I had been standing in the shadow with my +soiled cloak wrapped about me, but now I stood revealed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_23' name='page_23'></a>23</span> +in silken hose, satin breeches, and laced doublet. +If that were not enough to proclaim my rank a +rapier dangled by my side.</p> +<p>“Rot me, you’re a gentleman,” he cried.</p> +<p>I affected to carry off my shame with bluster.</p> +<p>“What if I am!” I cried fiercely. “May not a +gentleman be hungry, man? I am a ruined dicer, as +poor as a church mouse. Do you grudge me my +shilling?”</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders. Doubtless he had seen +more than one broken gentleman cover poverty with +a brave front of fine lawn and gilded splendour of +array.</p> +<p>“All one to me, your Royal ’Ighness. Take ’old +’ere,” he said facetiously.</p> +<p>We carried the boxes into the hall. When we had +finished I stood mopping my face with a handkerchief, +but my eyes were glued to the label tacked on one of +the boxes.</p> +<p><i>John Armitage, The Oaks, Epsom, Surrey.</i></p> +<p>“Wot yer waitin’ for?” asked the fellow sharply.</p> +<p>“The shilling,” I told him.</p> +<p>I left when he gave it me, and as I reached the +door he bawled to be sure to shut it tight. An idea +jumped to my mind on the instant, and though I +slammed the door I took care to have my foot an inch +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_24' name='page_24'></a>24</span> +or two within the portal. Next moment I was walking +noisily down the steps and along the pavement.</p> +<p>Three minutes later I tiptoed back up the steps and +tried the door. I opened it slowly and without noise +till I could thrust in my head. The fellow was nowhere +to be seen in the hall. I whipped in, and +closed the door after me. Every board seemed to +creak as I trod gingerly toward the stairway. In the +empty house the least noise echoed greatly. The +polished stairs cried out hollowly my presence. I was +half way up when I came to a full stop. Some one +was coming down round the bend of the stairway. +Softly I slid down the balustrade and crouched behind +the post at the bottom. The man—it was my friend +of the shilling—passed within a foot of me, his hand +almost brushing the hair of my head, and crossed the +hall to a room opposite. Again I went up the stairs, +still cautiously, but with a confidence born of the +knowledge of his whereabouts.</p> +<p>The house was large, and I might have wandered +long without guessing where lay the room I wanted +had it not been for a slight sound that came to me—the +low, soft sobbing of a woman. I groped my way +along the dark passage, turned to the left, and presently +came to the door from behind which issued the +sound. The door was locked on the outside, and the +key was in the lock. I knocked, and at once silence +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_25' name='page_25'></a>25</span> +fell. To my second knock I got no answer. Then I +turned the key and entered.</p> +<p>A girl was sitting at a table with her back to me, +her averted head leaning wearily on her hand. Dejection +spoke in every line of her figure. She did not +even turn at my entrance, thinking me no doubt to be +her guard. I stood waiting awkwardly, scarce knowing +what to say.</p> +<p>“Madam,” I began, “may I— Is there——?” +So far I got, then I came to an embarrassed pause, for +I might as well have talked to the dead for all the +answer I got. She did not honour me with the faintest +sign of attention. I hemmed and hawed and +bowed to her back with a growing confusion.</p> +<p>At last she asked over her shoulder in a strained, +even voice,</p> +<p>“What is it you’re wanting now? You said I was +to be left by my lane to-night.”</p> +<p>I murmured like a gawk that I was at her service, +and presently as I shifted from one foot to the other +she turned slowly. Her face was a dumb cry for help, +though it was a proud face too—one not lacking in +fire and courage. I have seen fairer faces, but never +one more to my liking. It was her eyes that held me. +The blue of her own Highland lochs, with all their +changing and indescribably pathetic beauty, lurked +deeply in them. Unconsciously they appealed to me, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_26' name='page_26'></a>26</span> +and the world was not wide enough to keep me from +her when they called. Faith, my secret is out already, +and I had resolved that it should keep till near the +end of my story!</p> +<p>I had dropped my muddy cloak before I entered, +and as she looked at me a change came over her. +Despair gave way to a startled surprise. Her eyes +dilated.</p> +<p>“Who are you, sir? And—what are you doing +here?” she demanded.</p> +<p>I think some fear or presage of evil was knocking +at her heart, for though she fronted me very steadily +her eyes were full of alarm. What should a man of +rank be doing in her room on the night she had been +abducted from her lodgings unless his purpose were +evil? She wore a long cloak stretching to the +ground, and from under it slippered feet peeped out. +The cloak was of the latest mode, very wide and open +at the neck and shoulders, and beneath the mantle I +caught more than a glimpse of the laced white +nightrail and the fine sloping neck. ’Twas plain +that her abductors had given her only time to fling +the wrap about her before they snatched her from her +bedchamber. Some wild instinct of defense stirred +within her, and with one hand she clutched the cloak +tightly to her throat. My heart went out to the child +with a great rush of pity. The mad follies of my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_27' name='page_27'></a>27</span> +London life slipped from me like the muddy garment +outside, and I swore by all I held most dear not to +see her wronged.</p> +<p>“Madam,” I said, “for all the world I would not +harm you. I have come to offer you my sword as a +defense against those who would injure you. My +name is Montagu, and I know none of the name that +are liars,” I cried.</p> +<p>“Are you the gentleman that was for stopping the +carriage as we came?” she asked.</p> +<p>“I am that same unlucky gentleman that was sent +speldering in the glaur.<a name="FNanchor_2" id="FNanchor_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> I won an entrance to the +house by a trick, and I am here at your service,” I +said, throwing in my tag of Scotch to reassure +her.</p> +<p>“You will be English, but you speak the kindly +Scots,” she cried.</p> +<p>“My mother was from the Highlands,” I told her.</p> +<p>“What! You have the Highland blood in you? +Oh then, it is the good heart you will have too. Will +you ever have been on the braes of Raasay?”</p> +<p>I told her no; that I had always lived in England, +though my mother was a Campbell. Her joy was +the least thing in the world daunted, and in her voice +there was a dash of starch.</p> +<p>“Oh! A Campbell!”</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_28' name='page_28'></a>28</span></div> +<p>I smiled. ’Twas plain her clan was no friend to +the sons of <i>Diarmaid</i>.</p> +<p>“My father was out in the ’15, and when he wass a +wounded fugitive with the Campbell bloodhounds on +his trail Mary Campbell hid him till the chase was +past. Then she guided him across the mountains +and put him in the way of reaching the Macdonald +country. My father married her after the amnesty,” +I explained.</p> +<p>The approving light flashed back into her eyes.</p> +<p>“At all events then I am not doubting she wass a +good lassie, Campbell or no Campbell; and I am +liking it that your father went back and married her.”</p> +<p>“But we are wasting time,” I urged. “What can +I do for you? Where do you live? To whom shall +I take you?”</p> +<p>She fell to earth at once. “My grief! I do not +know. Malcolm has gone to France. He left me +with Hamish Gorm in lodgings, but they will not be +safe since——” She stopped, and at the memory of +what had happened there the wine crept into her +cheeks.</p> +<p>“And who is Malcolm?” I asked gently.</p> +<p>“My brother. He iss an agent for King James in +London, and he brought me with him. But he was +called away, and he left me with the gillie. To-night +they broke into my room while Hamish was away, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_29' name='page_29'></a>29</span> +weary fa’ the day! And now where shall I +go?”</p> +<p>“My sister is a girl about your age. Cloe would +be delighted to welcome you. I am sure you would +like each other.”</p> +<p>“You are the good friend to a poor lass that will +never be forgetting, and I will be blithe to burden the +hospitality of your sister till my brother returns.”</p> +<p>The sharp tread of footsteps on the stairs reached +us. A man was coming up, and he was singing languidly +a love ditty.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“What is love? ’Tis not hereafter,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Present mirth has present laughter,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>What’s to come is still unsure;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>In delay there lies no plenty,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Then come kiss me sweet and twenty.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Youth’s a stuff will not endure.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Something in the voice struck a familiar chord in +my memory, but I could not put a name to its owner. +The girl looked at me with eyes grown suddenly +horror-stricken. I noticed that her face had taken on +the hue of snow.</p> +<p>“We are too late,” she cried softly.</p> +<p>We heard a key fumbling in the lock, and then +the door opened—to let in Volney. His hat was +sweeping to the floor in a bow when he saw me. He +stopped and looked at me in surprise, his lips framing +themselves for a whistle. I could see the starch run +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_30' name='page_30'></a>30</span> +through and take a grip of him. For just a gliff he +stood puzzled and angry. Then he came in wearing +his ready dare-devil smile and sat down easily on the +bed.</p> +<p>“Hope I’m not interrupting, Montagu,” he said +jauntily. “I dare say though that’s past hoping for. +You’ll have to pardon my cursedly malapropos +appearance. Faith, my only excuse is that I did not +know the lady was entertaining other visitors this +evening.”</p> +<p>He looked at her with careless insolence out of his +beautiful dark eyes, and for that moment I hated him +with the hate a man will go to hell to satisfy.</p> +<p>“You will spare this lady your insults,” I told him +in a low voice. “At least so far as you can. Your +presence itself is an insult.”</p> +<p>“Egad, and that’s where the wind sits, eh? Well, +well, ’tis the manner of the world. When the cat’s +away!”</p> +<p>A flame of fire ran through me. I took a step +toward him, hand on sword hilt. With a sweep of +his jewelled hand he waved me back.</p> +<p>“Fie, fie, Kenn! In a lady’s presence?”</p> +<p>Volney smiled at the girl in mock gallantry and my +eyes followed his. I never saw a greater change. +She was transformed. Her lithe young figure stood +out tall and strong, every line of weariness gone. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_31' name='page_31'></a>31</span> +Hate, loathing, scorn, one might read plainly there, +but no trace of fear or despair. She might have been +a lioness defending her young. Her splendour of +dark auburn hair, escaped and fallen free to her waist, +fascinated me with the luxuriance of its disorder. +Volney’s lazy admiration quickened to a deeper +interest. For an instant his breath came faster. His +face lighted with the joy of the huntsman after worthy +game. But almost immediately he recovered his +aplomb. Turning to me, he asked with his odd light +smile,</p> +<p>“Staying long, may I ask?”</p> +<p>My passion was gone. I was possessed by a +slow fire as steady and as enduring as a burning +peat.</p> +<p>“I have not quite made up my mind how long to +stay,” I answered coldly. “When I leave the lady +goes with me, but I haven’t decided yet what to do +with you.”</p> +<p>He began to laugh. “You grow amusing. ’Slife, +you are not all country boor after all! May it please +you, what are the alternatives regarding my humble +self?” he drawled, leaning back with an elbow on the +pillow.</p> +<p>“Well, I might kill you.”</p> +<p>“Yes, you might. And—er— What would I +be doing?” he asked negligently. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_32' name='page_32'></a>32</span></p> +<p>“Or, since there is a lady present, I might leave +you till another time.”</p> +<p>His handsome, cynical face, with its curious shifting +lights and shadows, looked up at me for once suffused +with genuine amusement.</p> +<p>“Stap me, you’d make a fortune as a play actor. +Garrick is a tyro beside you. Some one was telling +me that your financial affairs had been going wrong. +An it comes to the worst, take my advice and out-Garrick +Garrick.”</p> +<p>“You are very good. Your interest in my affairs +charms me, Sir Robert. ’Tis true they are not +promising. A friend duped me. He held the +Montagu estates higher than honour.”</p> +<p>He appeared to reflect. “Friend? Don’t think +I’m acquainted with any of the kind, unless a friend +is one who eats your dinners, drinks your wines, +rides your horses, and”—with a swift sidelong look +at the girl—“makes love to your charming +adored.”</p> +<p>Into the girl’s face the colour flared, but she looked +at him with a contempt so steady that any man but +Volney must have winced.</p> +<p>“Friendship!” she cried with infinite disdain. +“What can such as you know of it? You are false +as Judas. Did you not begowk my honest brother +with fine words till he and I believed you one +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_33' name='page_33'></a>33</span> +of God’s noblemen, and when his back was fairly +turned——?”</p> +<p>“I had the best excuse in London for my madness, +Aileen,” he said with the wistful little laugh that had +gone straight to many a woman’s heart.</p> +<p>Her eye flashed and her bosom heaved. The pure +girl-heart read him like an open book.</p> +<p>“And are you thinking me so mean a thing as still +to care for your honeyed words? Believe me, there +iss no viper on the braes of Raasay more detestable to +me than you.”</p> +<p>I looked to see him show anger, but he nursed his +silk-clad ankle with the same insolent languor. He +might have been a priest after the confessional for all +the expression his face wore.</p> +<p>“I like you angry, Aileen. Faith, ’tis worth being +the object of your rage to see you stamp that pretty +foot and clench those little hands I love to kiss. But +Ecod! Montagu, the hour grows late. The lady +will lose her beauty sleep. Shall you and I go down-stairs +and arrange for a conveyance?”</p> +<p>He bowed low and kissed his fingers to the girl. +Then he led the way out of the room, fine and +gallant and debonair, a villain every inch of him.</p> +<p>“Will you be leaving me?” the girl cried with +parted lips.</p> +<p>“Not for long,” I told her. “Do not fear. I shall +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_34' name='page_34'></a>34</span> +have you out of here in a jiff,” and with that I followed +at his heels.</p> +<p>Sir Robert Volney led the way down the corridor +to a small room in the west wing, where flaring, half-burnt +candles guttering in their sconces drove back +the darkness. He leaned against the mantel and +looked long at me out of half-closed eyes.</p> +<p>“May I ask to what is due the honour of your +presence to-night?” he drawled at last.</p> +<p>“Certainly.”</p> +<p>“Well?”</p> +<p>“I have said you may ask,” I fleered rudely. “But +for me— Gad’s life! I am not in the witness +box.”</p> +<p>He took his snuff mull from his waistcoat pocket +and offered it me, then took a pinch and brushed +from his satin coat imaginary grains with prodigious +care.</p> +<p>“You are perhaps not aware that I have the right +to ask. It chances that this is my house.”</p> +<p>“Indeed! And the lady we have just left——?”</p> +<p>“——Is, pardon me, none of your concern.”</p> +<p>“Ah! I’m not so sure of that.”</p> +<p>“Faith then, you’ll do well to make sure.”</p> +<p>“And—er—Mistress Antoinette Westerleigh?”</p> +<p>“Quite another matter! You’re out of court +again, Mr. Montagu.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_35' name='page_35'></a>35</span></p> +<p>“Egad, I enter an exception. The lady we have +just left is of another mind in the affair. She is the +court of last resort, and, I believe, not complaisant to +your suit.”</p> +<p>“She will change her mind,” he said coolly.</p> +<p>“I trust so renowned a gallant as Sir Robert would +not use force.”</p> +<p>“Lard, no! She is a woman and therefore to be +won. But I would advise you to dismiss the lady +from your mind. ’Ware women, Mr. Montagu! You +will sleep easier.”</p> +<p>“In faith, a curious coincidence! I was about to +tender you the same advice, Sir Robert,” I told him +lightly.</p> +<p>“You will forget the existence of such a lady if you +are wise?”</p> +<p>“Wisdom comes with age. I am for none of it.”</p> +<p>“Yet you will do well to remember your business +and forget mine.”</p> +<p>“I have no business of my own, Sir Robert. Last +night you generously lifted all sordid business cares +from my mind, and now I am quite free to attend +those of my neighbours.”</p> +<p>He shrugged his shoulders in the French way. +“Very well. A wilful man! You’ve had your +warning, and— I am not a man to be +thwarted.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_36' name='page_36'></a>36</span></p> +<p>“I might answer that I am not a man to be +frightened.”</p> +<p>“You’ll not be the first that has answered that. +The others have ‘Hic Jacet’ engraved on their door +plates. Well, it’s an unsatisfactory world at best, and +Lard! they’re well quit of it. Still, you’re young.”</p> +<p>“And have yet to learn discretion.”</p> +<p>“That’s a pity too,” he retorted lightly. “The +door is waiting for you. Better take it, Mr. Montagu.”</p> +<p>“With the lady?”</p> +<p>“I fear the lady is tired. Besides, man, think of +her reputation. Zounds! Can she gad about the +city at night alone with so gay a spark as you? ’Tis +a censorious world, and tongues will clack. No, no! +I will save you from any chance of such a scandal, +Mr. Montagu.”</p> +<p>“Faith, one good turn deserves another. I’ll stay +here to save your reputation, Sir Robert.”</p> +<p>“I fear that mine is fly-blown already and something +the worse for wear. It can take care of itself.”</p> +<p>“Yet I’ll stay.”</p> +<p>“Gad’s life! Stay then.”</p> +<p>Volney had been standing just within the door, and +at the word he stepped out and flung it to. I sprang +forward, but before I reached it the click sounded. I +was a prisoner, caught like a fly in a spider’s web, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_37' name='page_37'></a>37</span> +much it helped me to beat on the iron-studded door +till my hand bled, to call on him to come in and fight +it out like a man, to storm up and down the room in +a stress of passion.</p> +<p>Presently my rage abated, and I took stock of my +surroundings. The windows were barred with irons +set in stone sockets by masonry. I set my knee +against the window frame and tugged at them till I +was moist with perspiration. As well I might have +pulled at the pillars of St. Paul’s. I tried my small +sword as a lever, but it snapped in my hand. Again +I examined the bars. There was no way but to pick +them from their sockets by making a groove in the +masonry. With the point of my sword I chipped industriously +at the cement. At the end of ten minutes +I had made perceptible progress. Yet it took me +another hour of labour to accomplish my task. I undid +the blind fastenings, clambered out, and lowered +myself foot by foot to the ground by clinging to the +ivy that grew thick along the wall. The vine gave to +my hand, and the last three yards I took in a rush, +but I picked myself up none the worse save for a torn +face and bruised hands.</p> +<p>The first fall was Volney’s, and I grudged it him; +but as I took my way to Balmerino’s lodgings my +heart was far from heavy. The girl was safe for +the present. I knew Volney well enough for that. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_38' name='page_38'></a>38</span> +That his plan was to take her to The Oaks and in +seclusion lay a long siege to the heart of the girl, I +could have sworn. But from London to Epsom is a +far cry, and between them much might happen +through chance and fate and—Kenneth Montagu.</p> + +<hr style='width: 10%; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both; margin: 2em auto 1em 0' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_2' id='Footnote_2'></a><a href='#FNanchor_2'><span class='label'>[2]</span></a> +<p style='font-size: small'> Speldering in the glaur—sprawling in the mud.</p></div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='III_DEOCH_SLAINT_AN_RIGH' id='III_DEOCH_SLAINT_AN_RIGH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_39' name='page_39'></a>39</span> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<h3>DEOCH SLAINT AN RIGH!</h3> +</div> + +<p>“You’re late, Kenn,” was Balmerino’s greeting +to me.</p> +<p>“Faith, my Lord, I’m earlier than I might +have been. I found it hard to part from a dear friend +who was loathe to let me out of his sight,” I laughed.</p> +<p>The Scotchman buckled on his sword and disappeared +into the next room. When he returned a pair +of huge cavalry pistols peeped from under his cloak.</p> +<p>“Going to the wars, my Lord?” I quizzed gaily.</p> +<p>“Perhaps. Will you join me?”</p> +<p>“Maybe yes and maybe no. Is the cause good?”</p> +<p>“The best in the world.”</p> +<p>“And the chances of success?”</p> +<p>“Fortune beckons with both hands.”</p> +<p>“Hm! Has she by any chance a halter in her +hands for Kenn Montagu and an axe for Balmerino +since he is a peer?”</p> +<p>“Better the sharp edge of an axe than the dull edge +of hunger for those we love,” he answered with a +touch of bitterness.</p> +<p>His rooms supplied the sermon to his text. Gaunt +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_40' name='page_40'></a>40</span> +poverty stared at me on every hand. The floor was +bare and the two ragged chairs were rickety. I knew +now why the white-haired peer was so keen to try a +hazard of new fortunes for the sake of the wife in the +North.</p> +<p>“Where may you be taking me?” I asked presently, +as we hurried through Piccadilly.</p> +<p>“If you ask no questions——” he began dryly.</p> +<p>“——You’ll tell me no lies. Very good. Odd’s +my life, I’m not caring! Any direction is good +enough for me—unless it leads to Tyburn. But I +warn you that I hold myself unpledged.”</p> +<p>“I shall remember.”</p> +<p>I was in the gayest spirits imaginable. The task I +had set myself of thwarting Volney and the present +uncertainty of my position had combined to lend a +new zest to life. I felt the wine of youth bubble in +my veins, and I was ready for whatever fortune had in +store.</p> +<p>Shortly we arrived at one of those streets of unimpeachable +respectability that may be duplicated a hundred +times in London. Its characteristics are monotony +and dull mediocrity; a dead sameness makes all +the houses appear alike. Before one of these we +stopped.</p> +<p>Lord Balmerino knocked, A man came to the +door and thrust out a head suspiciously. There was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_41' name='page_41'></a>41</span> +a short whispered colloquy between him and the +Scotch lord, after which he beckoned me to enter. +For an instant I hung back.</p> +<p>“What are you afraid of, man?” asked Balmerino +roughly.</p> +<p>I answered to the spur and pressed forward at once. +He led the way along a dark passage and down a +flight of stone steps into a cellar fitted up as a drinking +room. There was another low-toned consultation +before we were admitted. I surmised that Balmerino +stood sponsor for me, and though I was a little +disturbed at my equivocal position, yet I was strangely +glad to be where I was. For here was a promise of +adventure to stimulate a jaded appetite. I assured +myself that at least I should not suffer dulness.</p> +<p>There were in the room a scant dozen of men, and +as I ran them over with my eye the best I could say +for their quality in life was that they had not troubled +the tailor of late. Most of them were threadbare at +elbow and would have looked the better of a good +dinner. There were two or three exceptions, but for +the most part these broken gentlemen bore the marks +of recklessness and dissipation. Two I knew: the +O’Sullivan that had assisted at the plucking of a certain +pigeon on the previous night, and Mr. James Brown, +alias Mac-something or other, of the supple sword and +the Highland slogan. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_42' name='page_42'></a>42</span></p> +<p>Along with another Irishman named Anthony +Creagh the fellow O’Sullivan rushed up to my Lord, eyes +snapping with excitement. He gave me a nod and a +“How d’ye do, Montagu? Didn’t know you were +of the honest party,” then broke out with—</p> +<p>“Great news, Balmerino! The French fleet has +sailed with transports for fifteen thousand men. I +have advices direct from the Prince. Marshal Saxe +commands, and the Prince himself is with them. London +will be ours within the week. Sure the good day +is coming at last. The King—God bless him!—will +have his own again; and a certain Dutch beer tub that +we know of will go scuttling back to his beloved Hanover, +glory be the day!”</p> +<p>Balmerino’s eyes flashed.</p> +<p>“They have sailed then at last. I have been expecting +it a week. If they once reach the Thames +there is no force in England that can stop them,” he +said quietly.</p> +<p>“Surely the small fleet of Norris will prove no barrier?” +asked another dubiously.</p> +<p>“Poof! They weel eat heem up jus’ like one leetle +mouse, my frien’,” boasted a rat-faced Frenchman +with a snap of his fingers. “Haf they not two sheeps +to his one?”</p> +<p>“Egad, I hope they don’t eat the mutton then and +let Norris go,” laughed Creagh. He was a devil-may-care +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_43' name='page_43'></a>43</span> +Irishman, brimful of the virtues and the vices of +his race.</p> +<p>I had stumbled into a hornet’s nest with a vengeance. +They were mad as March hares, most of them. +For five minutes I sat amazed, listening to the wildest +talk it had ever been my lot to hear. The Guelphs +would be driven out. The good old days would be +restored; there would be no more whiggery and +Walpolism; with much more of the same kind of talk. +There was drinking of wine and pledging of toasts to +the King across the water, and all the while I sat by +the side of Balmerino with a face like whey. For I +was simmering with anger. I foresaw the moment +when discovery was inevitable, and in those few minutes +while I hung back in the shadow and wished myself +a thousand miles away hard things were thought +of Arthur Elphinstone Lord Balmerino. He had +hoped to fling me out of my depths and sweep me +away with the current, but I resolved to show him +another ending to it.</p> +<p>Presently Mr. James Brown came up and offered me +a frank hand of welcome. Balmerino introduced him +as Captain Donald Roy Macdonald. I let my countenance +express surprise.</p> +<p>“Surely you are mistaken, my Lord. This gentleman +and I have met before, and I think his name is +Brown.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_44' name='page_44'></a>44</span></p> +<p>Macdonald laughed a little sheepishly. “The air +of London is not just exactly healthy for Highland +Jacobite gentlemen at present. I wouldna wonder +but one might catch the scarlet fever gin he werena +carefu’, so I just took a change of names for a bit +while.”</p> +<p>“You did not disguise the Highland slogan you +flung out last night,” I laughed.</p> +<p>“Did I cry it?” he asked. “It would be just from +habit then. I didna ken that I opened my mouth.” +Then he turned to my affairs. “And I suppose you +will be for striking a blow for the cause like the rest +of us. Well then, the sooner the better. I am fair +wearying for a certain day that is near at hand.”</p> +<p>With which he began to hum “The King shall +have his own again.”</p> +<p>I flushed, and boggled at the “No!” that stuck in +my throat. Creagh, standing near, slewed round his +head at the word.</p> +<p>“Eh, what’s that? Say that again, Montagu!”</p> +<p>I took the bull by the horns and answered bluntly, +“There has been a mistake made. George is a good +enough king for me.”</p> +<p>I saw Macdonald stiffen, and angry amazement leap +to the eyes of the two Irishmen.</p> +<p>“’Sblood! What the devil! Why are you here +then?” cried Creagh. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_45' name='page_45'></a>45</span></p> +<p>His words, and the excitement in his raised voice, +rang the bell for a hush over the noisy room. Men +dropped their talk and turned to us. A score of fierce +suspicious eyes burnt into me. My heart thumped +against my ribs like a thing alive, but I answered—steadily +and quietly enough, I dare say—“You will +have to ask Lord Balmerino that. I did not know +where he was bringing me.”</p> +<p>“Damnation!” cried one Leath. “What cock +and bull tale is this? Not know where he was bringing +you! ’Slife, I do not like it!”</p> +<p>I sat on the table negligently dangling one foot in +air. For that matter I didn’t like it myself, but I was +not going to tell him so. Brushing a speck of mud +from my coat I answered carelessly,</p> +<p>“Like it or mislike it, devil a bit I care!”</p> +<p>“Ha, ha! I theenk you will find a leetle reason for +caring,” said the Frenchman ominously.</p> +<p>“Stab me, if I understand,” cried Creagh. “Balmerino +did not kidnap you here, did he? Devil take +me if it’s at all clear to me!”</p> +<p>O’Sullivan pushed to the front with an evil laugh.</p> +<p>“’T is clear enough to me,” he said bluntly. “It’s +the old story of one too many trusted. He hears our +plans and then the smug-faced villain peaches. Next +week he sees us all scragged at Tyburn. But he’s +made a little mistake this time, sink me! He won’t +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_46' name='page_46'></a>46</span> +live to see the Chevalier O’Sullivan walk off the cart. +If you’ll give me leave, I’ll put a name to the gentleman. +He’s what they call a spy, and stap my vitals! +he doesn’t leave this room alive.”</p> +<p>At his words a fierce cry leaped from tense throats. +A circle of white furious faces girdled me about. +Rapiers hung balanced at my throat and death looked +itchingly at me from many an eye.</p> +<p>As for me, I lazed against the table with a strange +odd contraction of the heart, a sudden standing still +and then a fierce pounding of the blood. Yet I was +quite master of myself. Indeed I smiled at them, +carelessly, as one that deprecated so much ado about +nothing. And while I smiled, the wonder was passing +through my mind whether the smile would still +be there after they had carved the life out of me. I +looked death in the face, and I found myself copying +unconsciously the smirking manners of the Macaronis. +Faith, ’t was a leaf from Volney’s life I was rehearsing +for them.</p> +<p>This but while one might blink an eye, then Lord +Balmerino interrupted. “God’s my life! Here’s a +feery-farry about nothing. Put up your toasting fork, +De Vallery! The lad will not bite.”</p> +<p>“Warranted to be of gentle manners,” I murmured, +brushing again at the Mechlin lace of my coat.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen are requested not to tease the animals,” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_47' name='page_47'></a>47</span> +laughed Creagh. He was as full of heat as a pepper +castor, but he had the redeeming humour of his race.</p> +<p>Macdonald beat down the swords. “Are you a’ +daft, gentlemen? The lad came with Balmerino. +He is no spy. Put up, put up, Chevalier! Don’t +glower at me like that, man! Hap-weel rap-weel, the +lad shall have his chance to explain. I will see no +man’s cattle hurried.”</p> +<p>“Peste! Let him explain then, and not summer +and winter over the story,” retorted O’Sullivan sourly.</p> +<p>Lord Balmerino slipped an arm through mine. +“If you are quite through with your play acting, gentlemen, +we will back to reason and common sense +again. Mr. Montagu may not be precisely a pronounced +Jack, but then he doesn’t give a pinch of +snuff for the Whigs either. I think we shall find him +open to argument.”</p> +<p>“He’d better be—if he knows what’s good for +him,” growled O’Sullivan.</p> +<p>At once I grew obstinate. “I do not take my +politics under compulsion, Mr. O’Sullivan,” I flung +out.</p> +<p>“Then you shouldn’t have come here. You’ve +drawn the wine, and by God! you shall drink it.”</p> +<p>“Shall I? We’ll see.”</p> +<p>“No, no, Kenn! I promise you there shall be no +compulsion,” cried the old Lord. Then to O’Sullivan +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_48' name='page_48'></a>48</span> +in a stern whisper, “Let be, you blundering Irish +man! You’re setting him against us.”</p> +<p>Balmerino was right. Every moment I grew colder +and stiffer. If they wanted me for a recruit they +were going about it the wrong way. I would not be +frightened into joining them.</p> +<p>“Like the rest of us y’ are a ruined man. Come, +better your fortune. Duty and pleasure jump together. +James Montagu’s son is not afraid to take a +chance,” urged the Scotch Lord.</p> +<p>Donald Roy’s eyes had fastened on me from the +first like the grip-of steel. He had neither moved +nor spoken, but I knew that he was weighing me in +the balance.</p> +<p>“I suppose you will not be exactly in love with the +wamey Dutchmen, Mr. Montagu?” he asked now.</p> +<p>I smiled. “If you put it that way I don’t care one +jack straw for the whole clamjamfry of them.”</p> +<p>“I was thinking so. They are a different race from +the Stuarts.”</p> +<p>“They are indeed,” I acquiesced dryly. Then +the devil of mischief stirred in me to plague him. +“There’s all the difference of bad and a vast deal +worse between them. It’s a matter of comparisons,” +I concluded easily.</p> +<p>“You are pleased to be facetious,” returned O’Sullivan +sourly. “But I would ask you to remember +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_49' name='page_49'></a>49</span> +that you are not yet out of the woods, Mr. Montagu. +My Lord seems satisfied, but here are some more of +us waiting a plain answer to this riddle.”</p> +<p>“And what may the riddle be?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Just this. What are you doing here?”</p> +<p>“Faith, that’s easy answered,” I told him jauntily. +“I’m here by invitation of Lord Balmerino, and it +seems I’m not overwelcome.”</p> +<p>Elphinstone interrupted impatiently.</p> +<p>“Gentlemen, we’re at cross purposes. You’re +trying to drive Mr. Montagu, and I’m all for leading +him. I warn you he’s not to be driven. Let us +talk it over reasonably.”</p> +<p>“Very well,” returned O’Sullivan sulkily. “Talk as +long as you please, but he doesn’t get out of this +room till I’m satisfied.”</p> +<p>“We are engaged on a glorious enterprise to restore +to these islands their ancient line of sovereigns. +You say you do not care for the Hanoverians. Why +not then strike a blow for the right cause?” asked +Leath.</p> +<p>“Right and wrong are not to be divided by so +clean a cut,” I told him. “I am no believer in the +divine inheritance of kings. In the last analysis the +people shall be the judge.”</p> +<p>“Of course; and we are going to put it to the +test.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_50' name='page_50'></a>50</span></p> +<p>“You want to set the clock back sixty years. It +will not do.”</p> +<p>“We think it will. We are resolved at least to +try,” said Balmerino.</p> +<p>I shrugged my shoulders. “The times are against +you. The Stuarts have dropped out of the race. +The mill cannot grind with the water that is +past.”</p> +<p>“And if the water be not past?” asked Leath +fiercely.</p> +<p>“Mar found it so in the ’15, and many honest gentlemen +paid for his mistake with their heads. My +father’s brother for one.”</p> +<p>“Mar bungled it from start to finish. He had the +game in his own hands and dribbled away his chances +like a coward and a fool.”</p> +<p>“Perhaps, but even so, much water has passed under +London Bridge since then. It is sixty years since +the Stuarts were driven out. Two generations have +slept on it.”</p> +<p>“Then the third generation of sleepers shall be +wakened. The stream is coming down in spate,” +said Balmerino.</p> +<p>“I hear you say it,” I answered dryly.</p> +<p>“And you shall live to see us do it, Mr. Montagu. +The heather’s in a blaze already. The fiery cross +will be speeding from Badenoch to the Braes of Balwhidder. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_51' name='page_51'></a>51</span> +The clans will all rise whatever,” cried +Donald Roy.</p> +<p>“I’m not so sure about Mr. Montagu living to +see it. My friends O’Sullivan and De Vallery seem +to think not,” said Creagh, giving me his odd smile. +“Now, I’ll wager a crown that——”</p> +<p>“Whose crown did you say?” I asked politely, +handing him back his smile.</p> +<p>“The government cannot stand out against us,” +argued Balmerino. “The Duke of Newcastle is almost +an imbecile. The Dutch usurper himself is over +in Hanover courting a new mistress. His troops are +all engaged in foreign war. There are not ten thousand +soldiers on the island. At this very moment the +King of France is sending fifteen thousand across in +transports. He will have no difficulty in landing them +and London cannot hold out.”</p> +<p>“Faith, he might get his army here. I’m not +denying that. But I’ll promise him trouble in getting +it away again.”</p> +<p>“The Highlands are ready to fling away the scabbard +for King James III,” said Donald Roy simply.</p> +<p>“It is in my mind that you have done that more +than once before and that because of it misguided +heads louped from sturdy shoulders,” I answered.</p> +<p>“Wales too is full of loyal gentlemen. What can +the Hanoverians do if they march across the border +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_52' name='page_52'></a>52</span> +to join the Highlanders rolling down from the North +and Marshal Saxe with his French army?”</p> +<p>“My imagination halts,” I answered dryly. “You +will be telling me next that England is wearying for a +change back to the race of Kings she has twice driven +out.”</p> +<p>“I do say it,” cried Leath. “Bolingbroke is +already negotiating with the royal family. Newcastle +is a broken reed. Hervey will not stand out. Walpole +is a dying man. In whom can the Dutchman +trust? The nation is tired of them, their mistresses +and their German brood.”</p> +<p>“When we had them we found these same Stuarts +a dangerous and troublesome race. We could not in +any manner get along with them. We drove them +out, and then nothing would satisfy us but we must +have them back again. Well, they had their second +chance, and we found them worse than before. They +had not learnt the lesson of the age. They——”</p> +<p>“Split me, y’are not here to lecture us, Mr. Montagu,” +cried Leath with angry eye. “Damme, we +don’t care a rap for your opinions, but you have heard +too much. To be short, the question is, will you join +us or won’t you?”</p> +<p>“To be short then, Mr. Leath, not on compulsion.”</p> +<p>“There’s no compulsion about it, Kenn. If you +join it is of your own free will,” said Balmerino. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_53' name='page_53'></a>53</span></p> +<p>“I think not. Mr. Montagu has no option in the +matter,” cried O’Sullivan. “He forfeited his right to decide +for himself when he blundered in and heard our +plans. Willy nilly, he must join us!”</p> +<p>“And if I don’t?”</p> +<p>His smile was like curdled milk. “Have you made +your will, Mr. Montagu?”</p> +<p>“I made it at the gaming table last night, and the +Chevalier O’Sullivan was one of the legatees,” I answered +like a flash.</p> +<p>“Touché, Sully,” laughed Creagh. “Ecod, I like +our young cockerel’s spirit.”</p> +<p>“And I don’t,” returned O’Sullivan. “He shall join +us, or damme——” He stopped, but his meaning +was plain to be read.</p> +<p>I answered dourly. “You may blow the coals, but +I will not be het.”</p> +<p>“Faith, you’re full of epigrams to-night, Mr. Montagu,” +Anthony Creagh was good enough to say. +“You’ll make a fine stage exit—granting that Sully +has his way. I wouldn’t miss it for a good +deal.”</p> +<p>“If the house is crowded you may have my seat +for nothing,” was my reply. Strange to say my spirits +were rising. This was the first perilous adventure +of my life, and my heart sang. Besides, I had confidence +enough in Balmerino to know that he would +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_54' name='page_54'></a>54</span> +never stand aside and let me suffer for his indiscretion +if he could help it.</p> +<p>The old Lord’s troubled eyes looked into mine. I +think he was beginning to regret this impulsive experiment +of his. He tried a new tack with me.</p> +<p>“Of course there is a risk. We may not win. Perhaps +you do well to think of the consequences. As +you say, heads may fall because of the rising.”</p> +<p>The dye flooded my cheeks.</p> +<p>“You might have spared me that, my Lord. I am +thinking of the blood of innocent people that must be +spilled.”</p> +<p>“Your joining us will neither help nor hinder +that.”</p> +<p>“And your not joining us will have deucedly unpleasant +effects for you,” suggested O’Sullivan pleasantly.</p> +<p>Lord Balmerino flung round on him angrily, his +hand on sword hilt. “I think you have forgotten +one thing, Mr. O’Sullivan.”</p> +<p>“And that is——?”</p> +<p>“That Mr. Montagu came here as my guest. If he +does not care to join us he shall be free as air to depart.”</p> +<p>O’Sullivan laughed hardily. “Shall he? Gadzooks! +The Chevalier O’Sullivan will have a word to say with +him first. He did not come as any guest of mine. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_55' name='page_55'></a>55</span> +What the devil! If you were not sure of him, why +did you bring him?”</p> +<p>Balmerino fumed, but he had no answer for that. +He could only say,—</p> +<p>“I thought him sure to join, but I can answer for +his silence with my life.”</p> +<p>“’T will be more to the point that we do not answer +for his speech with our lives,” grumbled +Leath.</p> +<p>The Frenchman leaned forward eagerly. “You +thought heem to be at heart of us, and you were +meestaken; you theenk heem sure to keep our secret, +but how are we to know you are not again meestaken?”</p> +<p>“Sure, that’s easy,” broke out O’Sullivan scornfully. +“We’ll know when the rope is round our gullets.”</p> +<p>“Oh, he won’t peach, Sully. He isn’t that kind. +Stap me, you never know a gentleman when you see +one,” put in Creagh carelessly.</p> +<p>The young Highlander Macdonald spoke up. +“Gentlemen, I’m all for making an end to this collieshangie. +By your leave, Lord Balmerino, Mr. Creagh +and myself will step up-stairs with this gentleman and +come to some composition on the matter. Mr. +Montagu saved my life last night, but I give you the +word of Donald Roy Macdonald that if I am not +satisfied in the end I will plant six inches of steel in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_56' name='page_56'></a>56</span> +his wame for him to digest, and there’s gumption for +you at all events.”</p> +<p>He said it as composedly as if he had been proposing +a stroll down the Row with me, and I knew him +to be just the man who would keep his word. The +others knew it too, and presently we four found ourselves +alone together in a room above.</p> +<p>“Is your mind so set against joining us, Kenn? I +have got myself into a pickle, and I wish you would +just get me out,” Balmerino began.</p> +<p>“If they had asked me civilly I dare say I should +have said ‘Yes!’ an hour ago, but I’ll not be forced +in.”</p> +<p>“Quite right, too. You’re a broth of a boy. I +wouldn’t in your place, Montagu, and I take off my +hat to your spirit,” said Creagh. “Now let’s begin +again.”—He went to the door and threw it open.—“The +way is clear for you to leave if you want to go, +but I would be most happy to have you stay with us. +It’s men like you we’re looking for, and— Won’t +you strike a blow for the King o’er the sea, Montagu?”</p> +<p>“He is of the line of our ancient monarchs. He +and his race have ruled us a thousand years,” urged +Balmerino. “They have had their faults perhaps——”</p> +<p>“Perhaps,” I smiled. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_57' name='page_57'></a>57</span></p> +<p>“Well, and if they have,” cried Donald Roy hotly +in the impetuous Highland way. “Is this a time to +be remembering them? For my part, I will be forgetting +their past faults and minding only their +present distresses.”</p> +<p>“It appears as easy for a Highlander to forget the +faults of the Stuarts as it is for them to forget his +services,” I told him.</p> +<p>“Oh, you harp on their faults. Have you none of +your own?” cried Elphinstone impatiently. “I have +seen and talked with the young Prince. He is one to follow +to the death. I have never met the marrow of him.”</p> +<p>“I think of the thousands who will lose their lives +for him.”</p> +<p>“Well, and that’s a driech subject, too, but Donald +Roy would a hantle rather die with claymore in hand +and the whiddering steel aboot his head than be always +fearing to pay the piper,” said the young Highlander +blithely.</p> +<p>“Your father was out for the King in the ’15,” said +Balmerino gently.</p> +<p>Oh, Arthur Elphinstone had the guile for all his +rough ways. I was moved more than I cared to own. +Many a time I had sat at my father’s knee and +listened to the tale of “the ’15.” The Highland blood +in me raced the quicker through my veins. All the +music of the heather hills and the wimpling burns +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_58' name='page_58'></a>58</span> +wooed me to join my kinsmen in the North. My +father’s example, his brother’s blood, loyalty to the +traditions of my family, my empty purse, the friendship +of Balmerino and Captain Macdonald, all tugged +at my will; but none of them were so potent as the +light that shone in the eyes of a Highland lassie I had +never met till one short hour before. I tossed aside +all my scruples and took the leap.</p> +<p>“Come!” I cried. “Lend yourselves to me on a +mission of some danger for one night and I will +pledge myself a partner in your enterprise. I can +promise you that the help I ask of you may be +honourably given. A fair exchange is no robbery. +What say you?”</p> +<p>“Gad’s life, I cry agreed. You’re cheap at the +price, Mr. Montagu. I’m yours, Rip me, if you +want me to help rum-pad a bishop’s coach,” exclaimed +the Irishman.</p> +<p>“Mr. Creagh has just taken the words out of my +mouth,” cried Donald Roy. “If you’re wanting to +lift a lassie or to carry the war to a foe I’ll be blithe +to stand at your back. You may trust Red Donald +for that whatever.”</p> +<p>“You put your finger on my ambitions, Captain +Macdonald. I’m wanting to do just those two things. +You come to scratch so readily that I hope you have +had some practice of your own,” I laughed. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_59' name='page_59'></a>59</span></p> +<p>There was wine on the table and I filled the glasses.</p> +<p>“If no other sword leaves scabbard mine shall,” I +cried in a flame of new-born enthusiasm. “Gentlemen, +I give you the King over the water.”</p> +<p>“King James! God bless him,” echoed Balmerino +and Creagh.</p> +<p>“Deoch slaint an Righ! (The King’s Drink). And +win or lose, we shall have a beautiful time of it whatever,” +cried Donald gaily.</p> +<p>An hour later Kenneth Montagu, Jacobite, walked +home arm in arm with Anthony Creagh and Donald +Roy Macdonald. He was setting forth to them a tale +of an imprisoned maid and a plan for the rescue of +that same lady.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IV_OF_LOVE_AND_WAR' id='IV_OF_LOVE_AND_WAR'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_60' name='page_60'></a>60</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<h3>OF LOVE AND WAR</h3> +</div> + +<p>All day the rain had splashed down with an +unusual persistence, but now there was a rising +wind and a dash of clear sky over to the +south which promised fairer weather. I was blithe to +see it, for we had our night’s work cut out for us and +a driving storm would not add to our comfort.</p> +<p>From my hat, from the elbows of my riding-coat, +and from my boot-heels constant rivulets ran; but I +took pains to keep the pistols under my doublet dry +as toast. At the courtyard of the inn I flung myself +from my horse and strode to the taproom where my +companions awaited me. In truth they were making +the best of their circumstances. A hot water jug +steamed in front of the hearth where Creagh lolled in +a big armchair. At the table Captain Macdonald +was compounding a brew by the aid of lemons, spices, +and brandy. They looked the picture of content, and +I stood streaming in the doorway a moment to admire +the scene.</p> +<p>“What luck, Montagu?” asked Creagh.</p> +<p>“They’re at ‘The Jolly Soldier’ all right <i>en route</i> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_61' name='page_61'></a>61</span> +for Epsom,” I told him. “Arrived a half hour before +I left. Hamish Gorm is hanging about there to let us +know when they start. Volney has given orders for a +fresh relay of horses, so they are to continue their +journey to-night.”</p> +<p>“And the lady?”</p> +<p>“The child looks like an angel of grief. She is +quite out of hope. Faith, her despair took me by the +heart.”</p> +<p>“My certes! I dare swear it,” returned Donald +Roy dryly. “And did you make yourself known to +her?”</p> +<p>“No, she went straight to her room. Volney has +given it out that the lady is his wife and is demented. +His man Watkins spreads the report broadcast to +forestall any appeal she may make for help. I talked +with the valet in the stables. He had much to say +about how dearly his master and his mistress loved +each other, and what a pity ’twas that the lady has +lately fallen out of her mind by reason of illness. +’Twas the one thing that spoilt the life of Mr. Armitage, +who fairly dotes on his sweet lady. Lud, yes! +And one of her worst delusions is that he is not really +her husband and that he wishes to harm her. Oh, +they have contrived well their precious story to avoid +outside interference.”</p> +<p>I found more than one cause to doubt the fortunate +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_62' name='page_62'></a>62</span> +issue of the enterprise upon which we were engaged. +Volney might take the other road; or he might postpone +his journey on account of the foul weather. Still +other contingencies rose to my mind, but Donald Roy +and Creagh made light of them.</p> +<p>“Havers! If he is the man you have drawn for +me he will never be letting a smirr of rain interfere +with his plans; and as for the other road, it will be a +river in spate by this time,” the Highlander reassured +me.</p> +<p>“Sure, I’ll give you four to one in ponies the +thing does not miscarry,” cried Creagh in his rollicking +way. “After the King comes home I’ll dance at +your wedding, me boy; and here’s to Mrs. Montagu +that is to be, bedad!”</p> +<p>My wildest dreams had never carried me so far as +this yet, and I flushed to my wig at his words; but +the wild Irishman only laughed at my remonstrance.</p> +<p>“Faith man, ’tis you or I! ’Twould never do for +three jolly blades like us to steal the lady from her +lover and not offer another in exchange. No, no! +Castle Creagh is crying for a mistress, and if you +don’t spunk up to the lady Tony Creagh will.”</p> +<p>To his humour of daffing I succumbed, and fell into +an extraordinary ease with the world. Here I sat in a +snug little tavern with the two most taking comrades +in the world drinking a hot punch brewed to a nicety, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_63' name='page_63'></a>63</span> +while outside the devil of a storm roared and +screamed.</p> +<p>As for my companions, they were old campaigners, +not to be ruffled by the slings of envious fortune. +Captain Donald Roy was wont to bear with composure +good luck and ill, content to sit him down +whistling on the sodden heath to eat his mouthful of +sour brose with the same good humour he would have +displayed at a gathering of his clan gentlemen where +the table groaned with usquebaugh, mountain trout, +and Highland venison. Creagh’s philosophy too was +all for taking what the gods sent and leaving uncrossed +bridges till the morrow. Was the weather +foul? Sure, the sun would soon shine, and what was +a cloak for but to keep out the rain? I never knew +him lose his light gay spirits, and I have seen him at +many an evil pass.</p> +<p>The clatter of a horse’s hoofs in the courtyard put a +period to our festivities. Presently rug-headed Hamish +Gorm entered, a splash of mud from brogues to +bonnet.</p> +<p>“What news, Hamish? Has Volney started?” I +cried.</p> +<p>“She would be leaving directly. Ta Sassenach iss +in ta carriage with ta daughter of Macleod, and he +will be a fery goot man to stick a dirk in whatefer,” +fumed the gillie. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_64' name='page_64'></a>64</span></p> +<p>I caught him roughly by the shoulder. “There +will be no dirk play this night, Hamish Gorm. Do +you hear that? It will be left for your betters to +settle with this man, and if you cannot remember that +you will just stay here.”</p> +<p>He muttered sullenly that he would remember, but +it was a great pity if Hamish Gorm could not avenge +the wrongs of the daughter of his chief.</p> +<p>We rode for some miles along a cross country path +where the mud was so deep that the horses sank to +their fetlocks. The wind had driven away the rain +and the night had cleared overhead. There were still +scudding clouds scouring across the face of the moon, +but the promise was for a clear night. We reached +the Surrey road and followed it along the heath till we +came to the shadow of three great oaks. Many a +Dick Turpin of the road had lurked under the drooping +boughs of these same trees and sallied out to the +hilltop with his ominous cry of “Stand and deliver!” +Many a jolly grazier and fat squire had yielded up his +purse at this turn of the road. For a change we +meant to rum-pad a baronet, and I flatter myself we +made as dashing a trio of cullies as any gentlemen of +the heath among them all.</p> +<p>It might have been a half hour after we had taken +our stand that the rumbling of a coach came to our +ears. The horses were splashing through the mud, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_65' name='page_65'></a>65</span> +plainly making no great speed. Long before we saw +the chaise, the cries of the postilions urging on the +horses were to be heard. After an interminable +period the carriage swung round the turn of the road +and began to take the rise. We caught the postilion +at disadvantage as he was flogging the weary animals +up the brow of the hill. He looked up and caught +sight of us.</p> +<p>“Out of the way, fellows,” he cried testily. Next instant +he slipped to the ground and disappeared in the +darkness, crying “’Ware highwaymen!” In the shine +of the coach lamps he had seen Creagh’s mask and +pistol. The valet Watkins, sitting on the box, tried +to lash up the leaders, but Macdonald blocked the way +with his horse, what time the Irishman and I gave our +attention to the occupants of the chaise.</p> +<p>At the first cry of the postilion a bewigged powdered +head had been thrust from the window and immediately +withdrawn. Now I dismounted and went +forward to open the door. From the corner of +the coach into which Aileen Macleod had withdrawn +a pair of bright eager eyes looked into +my face, but no Volney was to be seen. The open +door opposite explained his disappearance. I raised +the mask a moment from my face, and the girl gave a +cry of joy.</p> +<p>“Did you think I had deserted you?” I asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_66' name='page_66'></a>66</span></p> +<p>“Oh, I did not know. I wass thinking that +perhaps he had killed you. I will be thanking +God that you are alive,” she cried, with a sweet little +lift and tremble to her voice that told me tears were +near.</p> +<p>A shot rang out, and then another.</p> +<p>“Excuse me for a moment. I had forgot the gentleman,” +I said, hastily withdrawing my head.</p> +<p>As I ran round the back of the coach I came +plump into Volney. Though dressed to make love +and not war, I’ll do him the justice to say that one +was as welcome to him as the other. He was shining +in silver satin and blue silk and gold lace, but in each +hand he carried a great horse pistol, one of which was +still smoking at the barrel. The other he pointed at +me, but with my sword I thrust up the point and it +went off harmlessly in the air. Then I flung him +from me and covered him with my barker. Creagh +also was there to emphasize the wisdom of discretion. +Sir Robert Volney was as daring a man as ever lived, +but he was no fool neither. He looked at my weapon +shining on him in the moonlight and quietly conceded +to himself that the game was against him for the +moment. From his fingers he slipped the rings, and +the watch from his pocket-coat. To carry out our +pretension I took them and filled my pockets with his +jewelry. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_67' name='page_67'></a>67</span></p> +<p>“A black night, my cullies,” said Volney as easy as +you please.</p> +<p>“The colour of your business,” I retorted thoughtlessly.</p> +<p>He started, looking at me very sharp.</p> +<p>“Else you would not be travelling on such a night,” +I explained lamely.</p> +<p>“Ah! I think we will not discuss my business. As +it happens, the lady has no jewelry with her. If you +are quite through with us, my good fellows, we’ll wish +you a pleasant evening. Watkins, where’s that d—d +postilion?”</p> +<p>“Softly, Sir Robert! The night’s young yet. Will +you not spare us fifteen minutes while the horses rest?” +proposed Creagh.</p> +<p>“Oh, if you put it that way,” he answered negligently, +his agile mind busy with the problem before +him. I think he began to put two and two together. +My words might have been a chance shot, but when +on the heel of them Creagh let slip his name Volney +did not need to be told that we were not regular fly-by-nights. +His eyes and his ears were intent to pierce +our disguises.</p> +<p>“Faith, my bullies, you deserve success if you +operate on such nights as this. An honest living +were easier come by, but Lard! not so enticing by a +deal. Your enterprise is worthy of commendation, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_68' name='page_68'></a>68</span> +and I would wager a pony against a pinch of snuff +that some day you’ll be raised to a high position by +reason of it. How is it the old catch runs?</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘And three merry men, and three merry men,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>And three merry men are we,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>As ever did sing three parts in a string,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>All under the gallows tree.’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“If I have to get up in the milkman hours, begad, when +that day comes I’ll make it a point to be at Tyburn +to see your promotion over the heads of humdrum +honest folks,” he drawled, and at the tail of his speech +yawned in our faces.</p> +<p>“We’ll send you cards to the entertainment when +that happy day arrives,” laughed Creagh, delighted of +course at the aplomb of the Macaroni.</p> +<p>Donald Roy came up to ask what should be done +with Watkins. It appeared that Volney had mistaken +him for one of us and let fly at him. The fellow +lay groaning on the ground as if he were on the +edge of expiration. I stooped and examined him. +’Twas a mere flesh scratch.</p> +<p>“Nothing the matter but a punctured wing. All +he needs is a kerchief round his arm,” I said.</p> +<p>Captain Macdonald looked disgusted and a little +relieved.</p> +<p>“’Fore God, he deaved (deafened) me with his +yammering till I thought him about to ship for the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_69' name='page_69'></a>69</span> +other world. These Englishers make a geyan work +about nothing.”</p> +<p>For the moment remembrance of Volney had +slipped from our minds. As I rose to my feet he +stepped forward. Out flashed his sword and ripped +the mask from my face.</p> +<p>“Egad, I thought so,” he chuckled. “My young +friend Montagu repairing his fallen fortunes on the +road! Won’t you introduce me to the other gentlemen, +or would they rather remain incog? Captain +Claude Duval, your most obedient! Sir Dick Turpin, +yours to command! Delighted, ’pon my word, to be +rum-padded by such distinguished—er—knights of +the road.”</p> +<p>“The honour is ours,” answered Creagh gravely, returning +his bow, but the Irishman’s devil-may-care +eyes were dancing.</p> +<p>“A strange fortuity, in faith, that our paths have +crossed so often of late, Montagu. Now I would lay +something good that our life lines will not cross more +than once more.”</p> +<p>“Why should we meet at all again?” I cried. +“Here is a piece of good turf under the moonlight. +’Twere a pity to lose it.”</p> +<p>He appeared to consider. “As you say, the turf is +all that is to be desired and the light will suffice. +Why not? We get in each other’s way confoundedly, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_70' name='page_70'></a>70</span> +and out of doubt will some day have to settle our little +difference. Well then, if ’twere done ’twere well +done quickly. Faith, Mr. Montagu, y’are a man +after my own heart, and it gives me a vast deal of +pleasure to accept your proposal. Consider me your +most obedient to command and prodigiously at your +service.”</p> +<p>Raffish and flamboyant, he lounged forward to the +window of the carriage.</p> +<p>“I beg a thousand pardons, sweet, for leaving you +a few minutes alone,” he said with his most silken +irony. “I am desolated at the necessity, but this +gentleman has a claim that cannot be ignored. Believe +me, I shall make the absence very short. Dear +my life, every instant that I am from you is snatched +from Paradise. Fain would I be with you alway, but +stern duty”—the villain stopped to draw a plaintive +and theatric sigh—“calls me to attend once for all +to a matter of small moment. Anon I shall be with +you, life of my life.”</p> +<p>She looked at him as if he were the dirt beneath +her feet, and still he smiled his winsome smile, carrying +on the mock pretense that she was devoted to him.</p> +<p>“Ah, sweet my heart!” he murmured. “’Twere +cheap to die for such a loving look from thee. All +Heaven lies in it. ’Tis better far to live for many +more of such.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_71' name='page_71'></a>71</span></p> +<p>There was a rush of feet and a flash of steel. Donald +Roy leaped forward just in time, and next moment +Hamish Gorm lay stretched on the turf, muttering +Gaelic oaths and tearing at the sod with his dirk in +an impotent rage. Sir Robert looked down at the +prostrate man with his inscrutable smile.</p> +<p>“Your friend from the Highlands is in a vast +hurry, Montagu. He can’t even wait till you have +had your chance to carve me. Well, are you ready +to begin the argument?”</p> +<p>“Quite at your command. There is a bit of firm +turf beyond the oaks. If you will lead the way I +shall be with you anon.”</p> +<p>“Lud! I had forgot. You have your adieux to +make to the lady. Pray do not let me hurry you,” +he said urbanely, as he picked his way daintily +through the mud.</p> +<p>When he had gone I turned to the girl.</p> +<p>“You shall be quit of him,” I told her. “You may +rely on my friends if—if the worst happens. They +will take you to Montagu Grange, and my brother +Charles will push on with you to Scotland. In this +country you would not be safe from him while he +lives.”</p> +<p>Her face was like the snow.</p> +<p>“Iss there no other way whatever?” she cried. +“Must you be fighting with this man for me, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_72' name='page_72'></a>72</span> +you only a boy? Oh, I could be wishing for my +brother Malcolm or some of the good claymores on +the braes of Raasay!”</p> +<p>The vanity in me was stung by her words.</p> +<p>“I’m not such a boy neither, and Angelo judged +me a good pupil. You might find a worse +champion.”</p> +<p>“Oh, it iss the good friend you are to me, and I +am loving you for it, but I think of what may happen +to you.”</p> +<p>My pulse leaped and my eyes burned, but I answered +lightly,</p> +<p>“For a change think of what may happen to him, +and maybe to pass the time you might put up a bit +prayer for me.”</p> +<p>“Believe me, I will be doing that same,” she cried +with shining eyes, and before I divined her intent had +stooped to kiss my hand that rested on the coach +door.</p> +<p>My heart lilted as I crossed the heath to where the +others were waiting for me beyond the dip of the +hillock.</p> +<p>“Faith, I began to think you had forgotten me and +gone off with the lady yourself,” laughed Volney.</p> +<p>I flung off my cloak and my inner coat, for though +the night was chill I knew I should be warm enough +when once we got to work. Then, strangely enough, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_73' name='page_73'></a>73</span> +an unaccountable reluctance to engage came over me, +and I stood tracing figures on the heath with the point +of my small sword.</p> +<p>“Are you ready?” asked the baronet.</p> +<p>I broke out impetuously. “Sir Robert, you have +ruined many. Your victims are to be counted by the +score. I myself am one. But this girl shall not be +added to the list. I have sworn it; so have my friends. +There is still time for you to leave unhurt if you desire +it, but if we once cross swords one of us must die.”</p> +<p>“And, prithee, Mr. Montagu, why came we here?”</p> +<p>“Yet even now if you will desist——”</p> +<p>His caustic insolent laugh rang out gaily as he +mouthed the speech of Tybalt in actor fashion.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘What, drawn, and talk of peace? I hate the word,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>As I hate hell, all Montagus, and thee;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Have at thee, coward.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I drew back from his playful lunge.</p> +<p>“Very well. Have it your own way. But you +must have some one to act for you. Perhaps Captain +Mac—er—the gentleman on your right—will second +you.”</p> +<p>Donald Roy drew himself up haughtily. “Feint a +bit of it! I’m on the other side of the dyke. Man, +Montagu! I’m wondering at you, and him wronging +a Hieland lassie. Gin he waits till I stand back of +him he’ll go wantin’, ye may lippen (trust) to that.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_74' name='page_74'></a>74</span></p> +<p>“Then it’ll have to be you, Tony,” I said, turning +to Creagh. “Guard, Sir Robert!”</p> +<p>“’Sdeath! You’re getting in a hurry, Mr. Montagu. +I see you’re keen after that ‘Hic Jacet’ I +promised you. Lard! I vow you shall have it.”</p> +<p>Under the shifting moonlight we fell to work on the +dripping heath. We were not unevenly matched considering +the time and the circumstances. I had in my +favour youth, an active life, and a wrist of steel. At +least I was a strong swordsman, even though I could +not pretend to anything like the mastery of the weapon +which he possessed. To some extent his superior +skill was neutralized by the dim light. He had been +used to win his fights as much with his head as with +his hand, to read his opponent’s intention in advance +from the eyes while he concealed his own; but the +darkness, combined with my wooden face, made this +impossible now. Every turn and trick of the game +he knew, but the shifting shine and shadow disconcerted +him. More than once I heard him curse softly +when at a critical moment the scudding clouds drifted +across the moon in time to save me.</p> +<p>He had the better of me throughout, but somehow +I blundered through without letting him find the +chance for which he looked. I kept my head, and +parried by sheer luck his brilliant lunges. I broke +ground and won free—if but barely—from his incessant +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_75' name='page_75'></a>75</span> +attack. More than once he pricked me. A +high thrust which I diverted too late with the parade +of tierce drew blood freely. He fleshed me again on +the riposte by a one-two feint in tierce and a thrust in +carte.</p> +<p>“‘L’art de donner et de ne pas recevoir,’” he +quoted, as he parried my counter-thrust with debonair +ease.</p> +<p>Try as I would I could not get behind that wonderful +guard of his. It was easy, graceful, careless +almost, but it was sure. His point was a gleaming +flash of light, but it never wavered from my body line.</p> +<p>A darker cloud obscured the moon, and by common +consent we rested.</p> +<p>“Three minutes for good-byes,” said Volney, suggestively.</p> +<p>“Oh, my friends need not order the hearse yet—at +least for me. Of course, if it would be any convenience——”</p> +<p>He laughed. “Faith, you improve on acquaintance, +Mr. Montagu, like good wine or—to stick to the same +colour—the taste of the lady’s lips.”</p> +<p>I looked blackly at him. “Do you pretend——?”</p> +<p>“Oh, I pretend nothing. Kiss and never tell, egad! +Too bad they’re not for you too, Montagu.”</p> +<p>“I see that Sir Robert Volney has added another +accomplishment to his vices.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_76' name='page_76'></a>76</span></p> +<p>“And that is——?”</p> +<p>“He can couple a woman’s name with the hint of a +slanderous lie.”</p> +<p>Sir Robert turned to Creagh and waved a hand at +me, shaking his head sorrowfully. “The country +boor in evidence again. Curious how it will crop out. +Ah, Mr. Montagu! The moon shines bright again. +Shall we have the pleasure of renewing our little debate?”</p> +<p>I nodded curtly. He stopped a moment to say:</p> +<p>“You have a strong wrist and a prodigious good +fence, Mr. Montagu, but if you will pardon a word of +criticism I think your guard too high.”</p> +<p>“Y’are not here to instruct me, Sir Robert, +but——”</p> +<p>“To kill you. Quite so!” he interrupted jauntily. +“Still, a friendly word of caution—and the guard <i>is</i> +overhigh! ’Tis the same fault my third had. I ran +under it, and——” He shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>“Was that the boy you killed for defending his +sister?” I asked insolently.</p> +<p>Apparently my hit did not pierce the skin. “No. +I’ve forgot the nomination of the gentleman. What +matter? He has long been food for worms. Pardon +me, I see blood trickling down your sword arm. +Allow me to offer my kerchief.”</p> +<p>“Thanks! ’Twill do as it is. Art ready?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_77' name='page_77'></a>77</span></p> +<p>“Lard, yes! And guard lower, an you love me. +The high guard is the one fault— Well parried, +Montagu!—I find in Angelo’s pupils. Correcting +that, you would have made a rare swordsman in time.”</p> +<p>His use of the subjunctive did not escape me. +“I’m not dead yet,” I panted.</p> +<p>I parried a feint une-deux, in carte, with the parade +in semicircle, and he came over my blade, thrusting +low in carte. His laugh rang out clear as a boy’s, +and the great eyes of the man blazed with the joy of +fight.</p> +<p>“Gad, you’re quick to take my meaning! Ah! +You nearly began the long journey that time, my +friend.”</p> +<p>He had broken ground apparently in disorder, and +by the feel of his sword I made sure he had in mind +to parry; but the man was as full of tricks as the +French King Louis and with incredible swiftness he +sent a straight thrust in high tierce—a thrust which +sharply stung my ribs only, since I had flung myself +aside in time to save my vitals.</p> +<p>After that came the end. He caught me full and +fair in the side of the neck. A moist stifling filled +my throat and the turf whirled up to meet the sky. I +knew nothing but a mad surge of rage that he had +cut me to pieces and I had never touched him once. +As I went down I flung myself forward at him wildly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_78' name='page_78'></a>78</span> +It is to be supposed that he was off guard for the moment, +supposing me a man already dead. My blade +slipped along his, lurched farther forward, at last +struck something soft and ripped down. A hundred +crimson points zigzagged before my eyes, and I +dropped down into unconsciousness in a heap.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='V_THE_HUE_AND_CRY' id='V_THE_HUE_AND_CRY'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_79' name='page_79'></a>79</span> +<h2>V</h2> +<h3>THE HUE AND CRY</h3> +</div> + +<p>Languidly I came back to a world that +faded and grew clear again most puzzlingly, +that danced and jerked to and fro in oddly +irresponsible fashion. At first too deadly weary to +explain the situation to myself, I presently made out +that I was in a coach which lurched prodigiously and +filled me with sharp pains. Fronting me was the apparently +lifeless body of a man propped in the corner +with the head against the cushions, the white face +grinning horridly at me. ’Twas the face of Volney. +I stirred to get it out of my line of vision, and a soft, +firm hand restrained me gently.</p> +<p>“You are not to be stirring,” a sweet voice said. +Then to herself its owner added, ever so softly and so +happily, “Thaing do Dhia (Thank God.) He iss +alive—he iss alive!”</p> +<p>I pointed feebly a leaden finger at the white face +over against me with the shine of the moon on it.</p> +<p>“Dead?”</p> +<p>“No. He hass just fainted. You are not to talk!”</p> +<p>“And Donald Roy——?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_80' name='page_80'></a>80</span></p> +<p>The imperious little hand slipped down to cover my +mouth, and Kenneth Montagu kissed it where it lay. +For a minute she did not lift the hand, what time I +lay in a dream of warm happiness. A chuckle from +the opposite seat aroused me. The eyes in the +colourless face had opened, and Volney sat looking at +us with an ironic smile.</p> +<p>“I must have fallen asleep—and before a lady. A +thousand apologies! And for awaking so inopportunely, +ten thousand more!”</p> +<p>He changed his position that he might look the +easier at her, a half-humorous admiration in his eyes. +“Sweet, you beggar my vocabulary. As the goddess +of healing you are divine.”</p> +<p>The flush of alarmed maiden modesty flooded her +cheek.</p> +<p>“You are to lie still, else the wound will break out +again,” she said sharply.</p> +<p>“Faith, it has broken out,” he feebly laughed, pretending +to misunderstand. Then, “Oh, you mean the +sword cut. ’Twould never open after it has been +dressed by so fair a leech.”</p> +<p>The girl looked studiously out of the coach window +and made no answer. Now, weak as I was—in pain +and near to death, my head on her lap with her dear +hand to cool my fevered brow—yet was I fool enough +to grow insanely jealous that she had used her kerchief +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_81' name='page_81'></a>81</span> +to bind his wound. His pale, handsome face +was so winning and his eyes so beautiful that they +thrust me through the heart as his sword had been +unable to do.</p> +<p>He looked at me with an odd sort of friendliness, +the respect one man has for another who has faced +death without flinching.</p> +<p>“Egad, Montagu, had either of us driven but a +finger’s breadth to left we had made sure work and +saved the doctors a vast deal of pother. I doubt +’twill be all to do over again one day. Where did +you learn that mad lunge of yours? I vow ’tis none +of Angelo’s teaching. No defense would avail against +such a fortuitous stroke. Methought I had you +speeding to kingdom come, and Lard! you skewered +me bravely. ’Slife, ’tis an uncertain world, this! +Here we ride back together to the inn and no man +can say which of us has more than he can carry.”</p> +<p>All this with his easy dare-devil smile, though his +voice was faint from weakness. An odd compound +of virtues and vices this man! I learnt afterwards +that he had insisted on my wounds being dressed before +he would let them touch him, though he was +bleeding greatly.</p> +<p>But I had no mind for badinage, and I turned my +face from him sullenly. Silence fell till we jolted into +the courtyard of “The Jolly Soldier,” where Creagh, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_82' name='page_82'></a>82</span> +Macdonald, and Hamish Gorm, having dismounted +from their horses, waited to carry us into the house. +We were got to bed at once, and our wounds looked +to more carefully. By an odd chance Volney and I +were put in the same room, the inn being full, and +the Macdonald nursed us both, Creagh being for the +most part absent in London on business connected +with the rising.</p> +<p>Lying there day after day, the baronet and I came +in time to an odd liking for each other, discussing our +affairs frankly with certain reservations. Once he +commented on the strangeness of it.</p> +<p>“A singular creature is man, Montagu! Here are +we two as friendly as—as brothers I had almost said, +but most brothers hate each other with good cause. +At all events here we lie with nothing but good-will; +we are too weak to get at each other’s throats and so +perforce must endure each the other’s presence, and +from mere sufferance come to a mutual—shall I say +esteem? A while since we were for slaying; naught +but cold steel would let out our heat; and now—I +swear I have for you a vast liking. Will it last, think +you?”</p> +<p>“Till we are on our feet again. No longer,” I +answered.</p> +<p>“I suppose you are right,” he replied, with the first +touch of despondency I had ever heard in his voice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_83' name='page_83'></a>83</span> +“The devil of it is that when I want a thing I never +rest till I get it, and after I have won it I don’t care +any more for it.”</p> +<p>“I’m an obstinate man myself,” I said.</p> +<p>“Yes, I know. And when I say I’ll do a thing +and you say I sha’n’t nothing on earth can keep us +from the small sword.”</p> +<p>“Did you never spare a victim—never draw back +before the evil was done?” I asked curiously.</p> +<p>“Many a time, but never when the incentive to the +chase was so great as now. ’Tis the overcoming of +obstacles I cannot resist. In this case—to pass by +the acknowledged charms of the lady—I find two +powerful reasons for continuing: her proud coyness +and your defense of her. Be sure I shall not fail.”</p> +<p>“I think you will,” I answered quietly.</p> +<p>Out of doubt the man had a subtle fascination for +me, even though I hated his principles in the same +breath. When he turned the batteries of his fine +winning eyes and sparkling smile on me I was under +impulse to capitulate unconditionally; ’twas at remembrance +of Aileen that my jaws set like a vice +again.</p> +<p>But as the days passed I observed a gradual change +in Volney’s attitude toward the Highland lass. Macdonald +had found a temporary home for her at the +house of a kind-hearted widow woman who lived in +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_84' name='page_84'></a>84</span> +the neighbourhood, and so long as we were in danger +the girl and her grey-haired friend came often to offer +their services in nursing. Aileen treated the baronet +with such shy gentle womanliness, her girlish pity +struggling through the Highland pride, forgetting in +the suffering man the dastard who had wronged her, +that he was moved not a little from his cynical ironic +gayety. She was in a peculiar relation toward us, +one lacking the sanction of society and yet quite natural. +I had fought for her, and her warm heart forbade +her to go her way and leave me to live or die as +chance might will. As she would move about the +room ministering to our wants, wrapped in her sweet +purity and grace, more than once I caught on his face +a pain of wistfulness that told me of another man beneath +the polished heartless Macaroni. For the moment +I knew he repented him of his attempted wrong, +though I could not know that a day of manly reparation +would come to blot out his sin against her.</p> +<p>As we grew better Aileen’s visits became shorter +and less frequent, so that our only temptation to +linger over our illness was removed. One day Sir +Robert limped slowly across the floor on the arm of +Creagh while I watched him enviously. From that +time his improvement was rapid and within a week he +came to make his adieux to me. Dressed point-devise, +he was once more every inch a fop. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_85' name='page_85'></a>85</span></p> +<p>“I sha’n’t say good-bye, Montagu, to either you or +the lady, because I expect to see you both again soon. +I have a shot in my locker that will bring you to +mighty short one of these days. Tony Creagh is going +to London with me in my coach. Sorry you and +the lady won’t take the other two seats. Well, au +revoir. Hope you’ll be quite fit when you come up +for the next round.” And waving a hand airily at me +he went limping down the stairs, devoid of grace yet +every motion eloquent of it, to me a living paradox.</p> +<p>Nor was it long before I too was able to crawl out +into the sunshine with Aileen Macleod and Captain +Macdonald as my crutches. Not far from the inn was +a grove of trees, and in it a rustic seat or two. Hither +we three repaired for many a quiet hour of talk. +Long ago Donald had established his relationship +with Aileen. It appeared that he was a cousin about +eight degrees removed. None but a Highlander +would have counted it at all, but for them it sufficed. +Donald Roy had an extraordinary taking way with +women, and he got on with the girl much more easily +than I did. Indeed, to hear them daffing with each +other one would have said they had been brought up +together instead of being acquaintances of less than +three weeks standing.</p> +<p>Yet Donald was so clever with it all that I was +never the least jealous of him. He was forever taking +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_86' name='page_86'></a>86</span> +pains to show me off well before her, making as much +of my small attainments as a hen with one chick. +Like many of the West country Highlanders he was +something of a scholar. French he could speak like +a native, and he had dabbled in the humanities; but +he would drag forth my smattering of learning with +so much glee that one might have thought him ignorant +of the plainest A B C of the matter. More +than once I have known him blunder in a Latin quotation +that I might correct him. Aileen and he had a +hundred topics in common from which I was excluded +by reason of my ignorance of the Highlands, but the +Macdonald was as sly as a fox on my behalf. He +would draw out the girl about the dear Northland +they both loved and then would suddenly remember +that his pistols needed cleaning or that, he had promised +to “crack” with some chance gentleman stopping +at the inn, and away he would go, leaving us two +alone. While I lay on the grass and looked at her +Aileen would tell me in her eager, impulsive way +about her own kindly country, of tinkling, murmuring +burns, of hills burnt red with the heather, of a hundred +wild flowers that blossomed on the braes of Raasay, +and as she talked of them her blue eyes sparkled like +the sun-kissed lochs themselves.</p> +<p>Ah! Those were the good days, when the wine of +life was creeping back into my blood and I was falling +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_87' name='page_87'></a>87</span> +forty fathoms deep in love. Despite myself she was +for making a hero of me, and my leal-hearted friend, +Macdonald, was not a whit behind, though the droll +look in his eyes suggested sometimes an ulterior motive. +We talked of many things, but in the end we +always got back to the one subject that burned like a +flame in their hearts—the rising of the clans that was +to bring back the Stuarts to their own. Their pure +zeal shamed my cold English caution. I found myself +growing keen for the arbitrament of battle.</p> +<p>No earthly Paradise endures forever. Into those +days of peace the serpent of my Eden projected his +sting. We were all sitting in the grove one morning +when a rider dashed up to the inn and flung himself +from his horse. ’Twas Tony Creagh, and he carried +with him a placard which offered a reward of a hundred +guineas for the arrest of one Kenneth Montagu, +Esquire, who had, with other parties unknown, on the +night of July first, robbed Sir Robert Volney of certain +jewelry therein described.</p> +<p>“Highwayman it says,” quoth I in frowning perplexity. +“But Volney knows I had no mind to rob +him. Zounds! What does he mean?”</p> +<p>“Mean? Why, to get rid of you! I tore this +down from a tavern wall in London just after ’twas +pasted. It seems you forgot to return the gentleman +his jewelry.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_88' name='page_88'></a>88</span></p> +<p>I turned mighty red and pleaded guilty.</p> +<p>“I thought so. Gad! You’re like to keep sheep +by moonlight,” chuckled Creagh.</p> +<p>“Nonsense! They would never hang me,” I cried.</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t, eh! Deed, and I’m not so sure. The +hue and cry is out for you.”</p> +<p>“Havers, man!” interrupted Macdonald sharply. +“You’re frightening the lady with your fairy tales, +Creagh. Don’t you be believing him, my dear. The +hemp is not grown that will hang Kenneth.”</p> +<p>But for all his cheery manner we were mightily +taken aback, especially when another rider came in a +few minutes later with a letter to me from town. It +ran:—</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Dear Montagu</span>,</p> +<p>“Once more unto the breach, dear friends.” Our +pleasant little game is renewed. The first trick was, I +believe, mine; the second yours. The third I trump +by lodging an information against you for highway +robbery. Tony I shall not implicate, of course, nor +Mac-What’s-His-Name. Take wings, my Fly-by-night, +for the runners are on your heels, and if you +don’t, as I live, you’ll wear hemp. Give my devoted +love to the lady. I am,</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p style=' margin-right:6em;'>Your most obed<sup>t</sup> serv<sup>t</sup> to command,</p> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Rob<sup>t</sup> Volney</span>.</p> +</div> + +</div> +<p>In imagination I could see him seated at his table, +pushing aside a score of dainty notes from Phyllis indiscreet +or passionate Diana, that he might dash off +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_89' name='page_89'></a>89</span> +his warning to me, a whimsical smile half-blown on +his face, a gleam of sardonic humour in his eyes. Remorseless +he was by choice, but he would play the +game with an English sportsman’s love of fair play. +Eliminating his unscrupulous morals and his acquired +insolence of manner, Sir Robert Volney would have +been one to esteem; by impulse he was one of the +finest gentlemen I have known.</p> +<p>Though Creagh had come to warn me of Volney’s +latest move, he was also the bearer of a budget of +news which gravely affected the State at large and +the cause on which we were embarked. The French +fleet of transports, delayed again and again by trivial +causes, had at length received orders to postpone indefinitely +the invasion of England. Yet in spite of +this fatal blow to the cause it was almost certain that +Prince Charles Edward Stuart with only seven companions, +of whom one was the ubiquitous O’Sullivan, +had slipped from Belleisle on the Doutelle and escaping +the British fleet had landed on the coast of +Scotland. The emotions which animated us on hearing +of the gallant young Prince’s daring and romantic +attempt to win a Kingdom with seven swords, trusting +sublimely in the loyalty of his devoted Highlanders, +may better be imagined than described. +Donald Roy flung up his bonnet in a wild hurrah, +Aileen beamed pride and happiness, and Creagh’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_90' name='page_90'></a>90</span> +volatile Irish heart was in the hilltops. If I had any +doubts of the issue I knew better than to express +them.</p> +<p>But we were shortly recalled to our more immediate +affairs. Before we got back to the inn one +of those cursed placards offering a reward for my arrest +adorned the wall, and in front of it a dozen open-mouthed +yokels were spelling out its purport. Clearly +there was no time to be lost in taking Volney’s advice. +We hired a chaise and set out for London +within the hour. ’Twas arranged that Captain Macdonald +and Hamish Gorm should push on at once to +Montagu Grange with Aileen, while I should lie in +hiding at the lodgings of Creagh until my wounds +permitted of my travelling without danger. That +Volney would not rest without attempting to discover +the whereabouts of Miss Macleod I was well assured, +and no place of greater safety for the present occurred +to me than the seclusion of the Grange with my +brother Charles and the family servants to watch over +her. As for myself, I was not afraid of their hanging +me, but I was not minded to play into the hands of +Volney by letting myself get cooped up in prison for +many weeks pending a trial while he renewed his +cavalier wooing of the maid.</p> +<p>Never have I spent a more doleful time than that +which followed. For one thing my wounds healed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_91' name='page_91'></a>91</span> +badly, causing me a good deal of trouble. Then too +I was a prisoner no less than if I had been in The +Tower itself. If occasionally at night I ventured +forth the fear of discovery was always with me. Tony +Creagh was the best companion in the world, at once +tender as a mother and gay as a schoolboy, but he +could not be at home all day and night, and as he +was agog to be joining the Prince in the North he +might leave any day. Meanwhile he brought me the +news of the town from the coffee-houses: how Sir +Robert Walpole was dead; how the Camerons under +Lochiel, the Macdonalds under Young Clanranald, +and the Macphersons under Cluny had rallied to the +side of the Prince and were expected soon to be defeated +by Sir John Cope, the Commander-in-Chief of +the Government army in Scotland; how Balmerino +and Leath had already shipped for Edinburgh to join +the insurgent army; how Beauclerc had bet Lord +March a hundred guineas that the stockings worn by +Lady Di Faulkner at the last Assembly ball were not +mates, and had won. It appeared that unconsciously +I had been a source of entertainment to the club +loungers.</p> +<p>“Sure ’tis pity you’re mewed up here, Kenn, for +you’re the lion of the hour. None can roar like you. +The betting books at White’s are filled with wagers +about you,” Creagh told me. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_92' name='page_92'></a>92</span></p> +<p>“About me?” I exclaimed.</p> +<p>“Faith, who else? ‘Lord Pam bets Mr. Conway +three ponies against a hundred pounds that Mr. +Kenneth Montagu of Montagu Grange falls by the +hand of justice before three months from date,’” he +quoted with a great deal of gusto. “Does your neck +ache, Kenn?”</p> +<p>“Oh, the odds are in my favour yet. What else?” +I asked calmly.</p> +<p>“‘Mr. James Haddon gives ten pounds each to his +Royal Highness the Prince of Wales and to Sir +Robert Volney and is to receive from each twenty +guineas if Mr. K. Montagu is alive twelve months +from date.’ Egad, you’re a topic of interest in high +quarters!”</p> +<p>“Honoured, I’m sure! I’ll make it a point to see +that his Royal Highness and my dear friend Volney +lose. Anything else?”</p> +<p>“At the coffee-house they were talking about raising +a subscription to you because they hear you’re +devilish hard up and because you made such a plucky +fight against Volney. Some one mentioned that you +had a temper and were proud as Lucifer. ‘He’s such +a hothead. How’ll he take it?’ asks Beauclerc. +‘Why, quarterly, to be sure!’ cries Selwyn. And +that reminds me: George has written an epigram that +is going the rounds. Out of some queer whim—to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_93' name='page_93'></a>93</span> +keep them warm I suppose—Madame Bellevue took +her slippers to bed with her. Some one told it at the +club, so Selwyn sat down and wrote these verses:</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Well may Suspicion shake its head—</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Well may Clorinda’s spouse be jealous,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>When the dear wanton takes to bed</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Her very shoes—because they’re fellows.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Creagh’s merry laugh was a source of healing in +itself, and his departure to join the Prince put an edge +to the zest of my desire to get back into the world. +Just before leaving he fished a letter from his pocket +and tossed it across the room to me.</p> +<p>“Egad, and you are the lucky man, Kenn,” he said. +“The ladies pester us with praises of your valour. +This morning one of the fair creatures gave me this to +deliver, swearing I knew your whereabouts.”</p> +<p>’Twas a gay little note from my former playmate +Antoinette Westerleigh, and inclosed was a letter to +her from my sister. How eagerly I devoured Cloe’s +letter for news of Aileen may be guessed.</p> +<div class='blockquot'> +<p><span style='font-variant: small-caps'>My Dearest ’Toinette</span>:—</p> +<p>Since last I saw you (so the letter ran) seems a +century, and of course I am dying to come to town. +No doubt the country is very healthy, but Lud! ’tis +monstrous dull after a London season. I vow I am +already a lifetime behind the fashions. Is’t true that +prodigious bustles are the rage? And while I think +of it I wish you would call at Madame Ronald’s and +get the lylack lute-string scirt she is making for me.</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_94' name='page_94'></a>94</span></div> +<p>Also at Duprez’s for the butifull little hat I ordered. +Please have them sent by carrier. I know I am a vast +nuisance; ’tis the penalty, my dear, for having a country +mawkin as your best friend.</p> +<p>Of course you know what that grate brother of mine +has been at. Gaming I hear, playing ducks and +drakes with his money, and fighting duels with your +lover. For a time we were dreadfully anxious about +him. What do you think he has sent me down to +take care of for him? But you would never guess. +My love, a Scotch girl, shy as one of her own mountain +deer. I suppose when he is recovert of his +wounds he will be down here to philander with her. +Aileen Macleod is her name, and really I do not blame +him. I like her purely myself. In a way quite new she +is very taking; speaks the prettiest broken English, is +very simple, sweet, and grateful. At a word the pink +and white comes and goes in her cheeks as it never +does in ours. I wish I could acquire her manner, but +Alack! ’tis not to be learnt though I took lessons forever. +The gracefull creature dances the Scottish flings +divinely. She is not exactly butifull, but—well, I can +see why the men think so and fall down in worship! +By the way, she is very nearly in love—tho she does +not know it—with that blundering brother of mine; +says that “her heart iss always thanking him at all +events.” If he knew how to play his cards—but there, +the oaf will put his grate foot in it.</p> +<p>She came here with a shag-headed gillie of a servant, +under the protection of a Captain Macdonald +who is a very fine figure of a man. He was going to +stay only an hour or two, but <i>Charles</i> persuaded him +to stop three days. Charles teases me about him, +swears the Captain is already my slave, but you may +depend on’t there is nothing in it. Last night we +diverted ourselves with playing Hide the Thimble, +and the others lost the Scotch Captain and me in the</p> +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_95' name='page_95'></a>95</span></div> +<p>armory. He is a peck of fun. This morning he left for +the North, and do you think the grate Mr. Impudence +did not buss us both; Aileen because she is his cousin a +hundred times removed and me because (what a reason!) +“my eyes dared him.” Of course I was in a vast +rage, which seemed to hily delight Captain Impudence. +I don’t see how he dared take so grate a preaviledge. +Do you?</p> +<p>Aileen is almost drest, and I must go smart myself. +My dear, an you love me, write to</p> +<div class='ra'> +<p>Your own <span style='font-variant: small-caps'>Cloe</span>.</p> +</div> + +<p>P. S.—Lard, I clear forgot! ’Tis a secret that the +Scotch enchantress is here. You must be sure not to +mention it, my dear, to your Sir Robert, But la! I +have the utmost confidence in your discretion.</p> +</div> +<p>Conceive my dismay! Discretion and Antoinette +Westerleigh were as far apart as the poles. What +more likely than that the dashing little minx would +undertake to rally her lover about Aileen, and that +the adroit baronet would worm out of her the information +he desired? The letter crystallized my desire to +set out at once for Montagu Grange, and from there +to take the road with Miss Macleod hotspur for Scotland. +It appeared to me that the sooner we were out +of England the better it would be for both of us.</p> +<p>I made the journey to the Grange by easy stages, +following so far as I could little used roads and lanes +on account of a modest desire to avoid publicity. +’Twas early morning when I reached the Grange. I +remember the birds were twittering a chorus as I rode +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_96' name='page_96'></a>96</span> +under the great oaks to the house. Early as it was, +Cloe and Aileen were already walking in the garden +with their arms entwined about each other’s waists in +girl fashion. They made a picture taking enough to +have satisfied a jaded connoisseur of beauty: the fair +tall Highland lass, jimp as a willow wand, with the +long-lashed blue eyes that looked out so shyly and yet +so frankly on those she liked, and the merry brown-eyed +English girl so ready of saucy tongue, so worldly +wise and yet so innocent of heart.</p> +<p>Cloe came running to meet me in a flutter of excitement +and Mistress Aileen followed more demurely +down the path, though there was a Highland welcome +in her frank face not to be denied. I slid from the +horse and kissed Cloe. Miss Macleod gave me her +hand.</p> +<p>“We are hoping you are quite well from your +wounds,” she said.</p> +<p>“Quite,” I answered. “Better much for hearing +your kind voices and seeing your bright faces.”</p> +<p>I dare say I looked over-long into one of the bright +faces, and for a punishment was snatched into confusion +by my malapert sister.</p> +<p>“I didn’t know you had heard my kind voice yet,” +mimicked Miss Madcap. “And are you thinking of +holding Aileen’s hand all day?”</p> +<p>My hand plumped to my side like a shot. Both of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_97' name='page_97'></a>97</span> +us flamed, I stammering apologies the while Cloe no +doubt enjoyed hugely my embarrassment. ’Tis a +sister’s prerogative to teach her older brothers humility, +and Cloe for one did not let it fall into neglect.</p> +<p>“To be sure I do not know the Highland custom +in the matter,” she was continuing complacently when +Aileen hoist her with her own petard.</p> +<p>“I wass thinking that perhaps Captain Macdonald +had taught you in the armory,” she said quietly; and +Cloe, to be in the fashion, ran up the red flag too.</p> +<p>It appeared that my plan for an immediate departure +from England jumped with the inclination of Miss +Macleod. She had received a letter from her brother, +now in Scotland, whose plans in regard to her had +been upset by the unexpected arrival of the Prince. +He was extremely solicitous on her behalf, but could +only suggest for her an acceptance of a long-standing +invitation to visit Lady Strathmuir, a distant relative +living in Surrey, until times grew more settled. To +Aileen the thought of throwing herself upon the hospitality +of one she had never met was extremely distasteful, +and she hailed my proposal as an alternative +much to be desired.</p> +<p>The disagreeable duty of laying before my lawyer +the involved condition of my affairs had to be endured, +and I sent for him at once to get it over with +the sooner. He pulled a prodigious long face at my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_98' name='page_98'></a>98</span> +statement of the gaming debts I had managed to contract +during my three months’ experiment as the +prodigal son in London, but though he was extraordinarily +severe with me I made out in the end that affairs +were not so bad as I had thought. The estate would +have to be plastered with a mortgage, but some years +of stiff economy and retrenchment, together with a +ruthless pruning of the fine timber, would suffice to +put me on my feet again. The expenditures of the +household would have to be cut down, but Mr. Brief +thought that a modest establishment befitting my +rank might still be maintained. If I thought of +marrying——</p> +<p>A ripple of laughter from the lawn, where Aileen +and Charles were arranging fishing tackle, was wafted +through the open window and cut athwart the dry +speech of the lawyer. My eyes found her and lingered +on the soft curves, the rose-leaf colouring, the +eager face framed in a sunlit aureola of radiant hair. +Already my mind had a trick of imagining her the +mistress of the Grange. Did she sit for a moment in +the seat that had been my mother’s my heart sang; +did she pluck a posy or pour a cup of tea ’twas the +same. “If I thought of marrying——” Well, ’twas +a thing to be considered one day—when I came back +from the wars.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VI_IN_THE_MATTER_OF_A_KISS' id='VI_IN_THE_MATTER_OF_A_KISS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_99' name='page_99'></a>99</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<h3>IN THE MATTER OF A KISS</h3> +</div> + +<p>It may be guessed that the music of the gray +morn when we started found a ready echo in my +heart. The whistle of a plover cut the breaking +day, the meadow larks piped clear above us in chorus +with the trilling of the thrush, the wimpling burn +tinkled its song, and the joy that took me fairly by +the throat was in tune with all of them. For what +does a lover ask but to be one and twenty, to be +astride a willing horse, and to be beside the one +woman in the world for him? Sure ’tis heaven +enough to watch the colour come and go in her face, to +hear the lilt of her voice, and to see the changing +light in her eye. What though at times we were shy +as the wild rabbit, we were none the less happy for +that. In our hearts there bubbled a childlike gaiety; +we skipped upon the sunlit hilltops of life.</p> +<p>And here was the one drop of poison in the honey +of my cup: that I was wearing an abominable misfit +of a drab-coloured suit of homespun more adapted to +some village tradesman than to a young cavalier of +fashion, for on account of the hue and cry against me +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_100' name='page_100'></a>100</span> +I had pocketed my pride and was travelling under an +incognito. Nor did it comfort me one whit that +Aileen also was furbished up in sombre gray to represent +my sister, for she looked so taking in it that I +vow ’twas more becoming than her finery. Yet I +made the best of it, and many a good laugh we got +from rehearsing our parts.</p> +<p>I can make no hand at remembering what we had +to say to each other, nor does it matter; in cold type +’twould lose much of its charm. The merry prattle +of her pretty broken English was set to music for me, +and the very silences were eloquent of thrill. Early I +discovered that I had not appreciated fully her mental +powers, on account of a habit she had of falling into a +shy silence when several were present. She had a +nimble wit, an alert fancy, and a zest for life as earnest +as it was refreshing. A score of times that day she +was out of the shabby chaise to pick the wild flowers +or to chat with the children by the wayside. The +memory of her warm friendliness to me stands out the +more clear contrasted with the frigid days that followed.</p> +<p>It may be thought by some that our course in +travelling together bordered on the edge of the proprieties, +but it must be remembered that the situation +was a difficult one for us both. Besides which my +sister Cloe was always inclined to be independent, of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_101' name='page_101'></a>101</span> +a romantical disposition, and herself young; as for +Aileen, I doubt whether any thought of the conventions +crossed her mind. Her people would be wearying +to see her; her friend Kenneth Montagu had +offered his services to conduct her home; Hamish +Gorm was a jealous enough chaperone for any girl, +and the maid that Cloe had supplied would serve to +keep the tongues of the gossips from clacking.</p> +<p>We put up that first evening at The King’s Arms, +a great rambling inn of two stories which caught the +trade of many of the fashionable world on their way +to and from London. Aileen and I dined together at +a table in the far end of the large dining-room. As +I remember we were still uncommon merry, she +showing herself very clever at odd quips and turns of +expression. We found matter for jest in a large +placard on the wall, with what purported to be a picture +of me, the printed matter containing the usual +description and offer of reward. Watching her, I was +thinking that I had never known a girl more in love +with life or with so mobile a face when a large company +of arrivals from London poured gaily into the room.</p> +<p>They were patched and powdered as if prepared for +a ball rather than for the dust of the road. Dowagers, +frigid and stately as marble, murmured racy gossip to +each other behind their fans. Famous beauties flitted +hither and thither, beckoning languid fops with their +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_102' name='page_102'></a>102</span> +alluring eyes. Wits and beaux sauntered about +elegantly even as at White’s. ’Twas plain that this +was a party <i>en route</i> for one of the great county +houses near.</p> +<p>Aileen stared with wide-open eyes and parted lips +at these great dames from the fashionable world about +which she knew nothing. They were prominent +members of the leading school for backbiting in England, +and in ten minutes they had talked more scandal +than the Highland lass had heard before in a lifetime. +But the worst of the situation was that there was not +one of them but would cry “Montagu!” when they +clapped eyes on me. Here were Lord March, George +Selwyn, Sir James Craven, Topham Beauclerc, and +young Winton Westerleigh; Lady Di Davenport and +the Countess Dowager of Rocksboro; the Hon. +Isabel Stanford, Mistress Antoinette Westerleigh, and +others as well known to me. They had taken us at +unawares, and as Creagh would have put it in an Irish +bull the only retreat possible for us was an advance +through the enemy. At present they paid no more +attention to us than they would to the wooden negro +in front of a tobacco shop, but at any moment detection +might confront me. Faith, here was a predicament! +Conceive me, with a hundred guineas set +upon my head, thrust into the very company in all +England I would most have avoided. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_103' name='page_103'></a>103</span></p> +<p>And of all the people in the world they chanced on +me as a topic of conversation. George Selwyn, strolling +up and down the room, for want of something +better to do, stopped in front of that confounded +placard and began reading it aloud. Now I don’t +mind being described as “Tall, strong, well-built, and +extremely good-looking; brown eyes and waving hair +like ilk; carries himself with distinction;” but I grue +at being set down as a common cutpurse, especially +when I had taken the trouble to send back Sir +Robert’s jewelry at some risk to myself.</p> +<p>“Wonder what Montagu has done with himself,” +queried Beauclerc after Selwyn had finished.</p> +<p>“Or what Volney has done with him,” muttered +March behind his hand. “I’ll lay two to one in +ponies he never lives to cross another man.”</p> +<p>“You’re wrong, March, if you think Volney finished +him. He’s alive all right. I heard it from +Denman that he got safe across to France. Pity Volney +didn’t pink the fellow through the heart for his +d——d impudence in interfering; not that I can stand +Volney either, curse the popinjay!” snarled Craven +sourly.</p> +<p>“If Montagu reaches the continent, ’twill be a passover +the Jews who hold his notes will not relish,” +suggested Selwyn in his sleepy way.</p> +<p>A pink-and-white-faced youth shimmering in cream +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_104' name='page_104'></a>104</span> +satin was the animated heart of another group. His +love for scandal and his facility for acquiring the latest +tidbit made him the delight of many an old tabby +cat. Now his eyes shone with the joy of imparting a +delicious morsel.</p> +<p>“Egad, then, you’re all wrong,” he was saying in a +shrill falsetto. “Stap me, the way of it was this! I +have it on the best of authority and it comes direct, +rot me if it doesn’t! Sir Robert’s man, Watkins, told +Madame Bellevue’s maid, from whom it came straight +to Lord Pam’s fellow and through him to old Methuselah, +who mentioned it to——”</p> +<p>“You needn’t finish tracing the lineage of the misinformation. +We’ll assume it began with Adam and +ended with a dam—with a descendant of his,” interrupted +Craven with his usual insolence. “Now +out with the lie!”</p> +<p>“’Pon honour, Craven, ’tis gospel truth,” gasped +Pink-and-White.</p> +<p>“Better send for a doctor then. If he tries to tell +the truth for once he’ll strangle,” suggested Selwyn +whimsically to March.</p> +<p>“Spit it out then!” bullied Craven coarsely.</p> +<p>“Oh, Lard! Your roughness gives me the flutters, +Sir James. I’m all of a tremble. Split me, I can’t +abide to be scolded! Er— Well, then, ’twas a +Welsh widow they fought about—name of Gwynne +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_105' name='page_105'></a>105</span> +and rich as Crœsus—old enough to be a grandmother +of either of ’em, begad! Volney had first claim and +Montagu cut in; swore he’d marry her if she went off +the hooks next minute. They fought and Montagu +fell at the first shot. Next day the old Begum ran off +with her footman. That’s the story, you may depend +on’t. Lud, yes!”</p> +<p>“You may depend on its being wrong in every particular,” +agreed Lady Di coolly. “You’d better tell +the story, ’Toinette. They’ll have it a hundred times +worse.”</p> +<p>“Oh Lard! Gossip about my future husband. +Not I!” giggled that lively young woman.</p> +<p>“Don’t be a prude, miss!” commanded the Dowager +Countess sharply. “’Tis to stifle false reports +you tell it.”</p> +<p>“Slidikins! An you put it as a duty,” simpered +the young beauty. “’Twould seem that—it would +appear—the story goes that— Do I blush?—that +Sir Robert— Oh, let Lady Di tell it!”</p> +<p>Lady Di came to scratch with the best will in the +world.</p> +<p>“To correct a false impression then; for no other +reason I tell it save to kill worse rumours. Everybody +knows I hate scandal.”</p> +<p>“’Slife, yes! Everybody knows that,” agreed +Craven, leering over at March. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_106' name='page_106'></a>106</span></p> +<p>“Sir Robert Volney then was much taken with a +Scotch girl who was visiting in London, and of course +she dreamed air castles and fell in love with him. +’Twas Joan and Darby all the livelong day, but +alack! the maid discovered, as maids will, that Sir +Robert’s intentions were—not of the best, and +straightway the blushing rose becomes a frigid icicle. +Well, this Northern icicle was not to be melted, and +Sir Robert was for trying the effect of a Surrey hothouse. +In her brother’s absence he had the maid abducted +and carried to a house of his in town.”</p> +<p>“’Slife! A story for a play. And what then?” +cried Pink-and-White.</p> +<p>“Why then—enter Mr. Montagu with a ‘Stay, +villain!’ It chanced that young Don Quixote was +walking through the streets for the cooling of his +blood mayhap, much overheated by reason of deep +play. He saw, he followed, at a fitting time he broke +into the apartment of the lady. Here Sir Robert discovered +them——”</p> +<p>“The lady all unready, alackaday!” put in the +Honourable Isabel, from behind a fan to hide imaginary +blushes.</p> +<p>“Well, something easy of attire to say the least,” +admitted Lady Di placidly.</p> +<p>“I’ faith then, Montagu must make a better lover +than Sir Robert,” cried March. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_107' name='page_107'></a>107</span></p> +<p>“Every lady to her taste. And later they fought +on the way to Surrey. Both wounded, no graves +needed. The girl nursed Montagu back to health, and +they fled to France together,” concluded the narrator.</p> +<p>“And the lady—is she such a beauty?” queried +Beauclerc.</p> +<p>“Slidikins! I don’t know. She must have points. +No Scotch mawkin would draw Sir Robert’s eye.”</p> +<p>You are to imagine with what a burning face I sat +listening to this devil’s brew of small talk. What +their eyes said to each other of innuendo, what their +lifted brows implied, and what they whispered behind +white elegant hands, was more maddening than the +open speech. For myself, I did not value the talk of +the cats at one jack straw, but for this young girl sitting +so still beside me— By Heaven, I dared not +look at her. Nor did I know what to do, how to stop +them without making the matter worse for her, and I +continued to sit in an agony grizzling on the gridiron +of their calumnies. Had they been talking lies outright +it might have been easily borne, but there was +enough of truth mixed in the gossip to burn the girl +with the fires of shame.</p> +<p>At the touch of a hand I turned to look into a +face grown white and chill, all the joy of life struck +out of it. The girl’s timorous eyes implored me to +spare her more of this scene. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_108' name='page_108'></a>108</span></p> +<p>“Oh Kenneth, get me away from here. I will be +dying of shame. Let us be going at once,” she asked +in a low cry.</p> +<p>“There is no way out except through the crowd of +them. Will you dare make the attempt? Should I +be recognized it may be worse for you.”</p> +<p>“I am not fearing if you go with me. And at all +events anything iss better than this.”</p> +<p>There was a chance that we might pass through unobserved, +and I took it; but I was white-hot with +rage and I dare say my aggressive bearing bewrayed +me. In threading our way to the door I brushed accidentally +against Mistress Westerleigh. She drew +aside haughtily, then gave a little scream of recognition.</p> +<p>“Kenn Montagu, of all men in the world—and +turned Quaker, too. Gog’s life, ’tis mine, ’tis mine! +The hundred guineas are mine. I call you all to witness +I have taken the desperate highwayman. ‘Tall, +strong, and extremely well-looking; carries himself +like a gentleman.’ This way, sir,” she cried merrily, +and laying hold of my coat-tails began to drag me toward +the men.</p> +<p>There was a roar of laughter at this, and the pink-white +youth lounged forward to offer me a hand of +welcome I took pains not to see.</p> +<p>“Faith, the lady has the right of it, Montagu. That +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_109' name='page_109'></a>109</span> +big body of yours is worth a hundred guineas now if +it never was before,” laughed Selwyn.</p> +<p>“Sorry to disappoint the lady, but unfortunately my +business carries me in another direction,” I said +stiffly.</p> +<p>“But Lud! ’Tis not fair. You’re mine. I took +you, and I want the reward,” cries the little lady with +the sparkling eyes.</p> +<p>Aileen stood by my side like a queen cut out of +marble, turning neither to the right nor to the left, her +head poised regally on her fine shoulders as if she saw +none in the room worthy a look.</p> +<p>“This must be the baggage about which they +fought. Faith, as fine a piece as I have seen,” said +Craven to March in an audible aside, his bold eyes +fixed insolently on the Highland girl.</p> +<p>Aileen heard him, and her face flamed. I set my +teeth and swore to pay him for that some day, but I +knew this to be no fitting time for a brawl. Despite +me the fellow forced my hand. He planted himself +squarely in our way and ogled my charge with impudent +effrontery. Me he quite ignored, while his insulting +eyes raked her fore and aft. My anger seethed, +boiled over. Forward slid my foot behind his heel, +my forearm under his chin. I threw my weight forward +in a push. His head went back as though shot +from a catapult, and next moment Sir James Craven +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_110' name='page_110'></a>110</span> +measured his length on the ground. With the girl on +my arm I pushed through the company to the door. +They cackled after me like solan-geese, but I shut and +locked the door in their faces and led Aileen to her +room. She marched up the stairs like a goddess, +beautiful in her anger as one could desire. The +Gaelic heart is a good hater, and ’twas quite plain +that Miss Macleod had inherited a capacity for anger.</p> +<p>“How dare they? How dare they? What have I +done that they should talk so? There are three hundred +claymores would be leaping from the scabbard +for this. My grief! That they would talk so of my +father’s daughter.”</p> +<p>She was superbly beautiful in her wrath. It was +the black fury of the Highland loch in storm that +leaped now from her eyes. Like a caged and +wounded tigress she strode up and down the room, +her hands clenched and her breast heaving, an impetuous +flood of Gaelic pouring from her mouth.</p> +<p>For most strange logic commend me to a woman’s +reasoning, I had been in no way responsible for the +scene down-stairs, but somehow she lumped me blindly +with the others in her mind, at least so far as to +punish me because I had seen and heard. Apparently +’twas enough that I was of their race and class, for +when during a pause I slipped in my word of soothing +explanation the uncorked vials of her rage showered +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_111' name='page_111'></a>111</span> +down on me. Faith, I began to think that old Jack +Falstaff had the right of it in his rating of discretion, +and the maid appearing at that moment I showed a +clean pair of heels and left her alone with her +mistress.</p> +<p>As I was descending the stairs a flunky in the livery +of the Westerleighs handed me a note. It was +from Antoinette, and in a line requested me to meet +her at once in the summer-house of the garden. In +days past I had coquetted many an hour away with +her. Indeed, years before we had been lovers in half-earnest +boy and girl fashion, and after that the best +of friends. Grimly I resolved to keep the appointment +and to tell this little worldling some things she +needed much to know.</p> +<p>I found her waiting. Her back was turned, and +though she must have heard me coming she gave no +sign. I was still angry at her for her share in what +had just happened and I waited coldly for her to begin. +She joined me in the eloquent silence of a +Quaker meeting.</p> +<p>“Well, I am here,” I said at last.</p> +<p>“Oh, it’s you.” She turned on me, mighty cold +and haughty. “Sir, I take it as a great presumption +that you dare to stay at the same inn with me +after attempting to murder my husband that is to +be.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_112' name='page_112'></a>112</span></p> +<p>“Murder!” I gasped, giving ground in dismay at +this unexpected charge.</p> +<p>“Murder was the word I used, sir. Do you not +like it?”</p> +<p>“’Twas a fair fight,” I muttered.</p> +<p>“Was it not you that challenged? Did you not +force it on him?”</p> +<p>“Yes, but——”</p> +<p>“And then you dare to come philandering here +after me. Do you think I can change lovers as often +as gloves, sir? Or as often as you?”</p> +<p>“Madam, I protest——”</p> +<p>“La! You protest! Did you not come here to +see me? Answer me that, sir!” With an angry +stamp of her foot.</p> +<p>“Yes, Mistress Westerleigh, your note——”</p> +<p>“And to philander? Do you deny it?”</p> +<p>“Deny it. Odzooks, yes! ’Tis the last thing I +have in my mind,” I rapped out mighty short. “I +have done with women and their follies. I begin to +see why men of sense prefer to keep their freedom.”</p> +<p>“Do you, Kenn? And was the other lady so +hard on you? Did she make you pay for our follies? +Poor Kenn!” laughed my mocking tormentor with so +sudden a change of front that I was quite nonplussed. +“And did you think I did not know my rakehelly +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_113' name='page_113'></a>113</span> +lover Sir Robert better than to blame you for his +quarrels?”</p> +<p>I breathed freer. She had taken the wind out of +my sails, for I had come purposing to give her a large +piece of my mind. Divining my intention, womanlike +she had created a diversion by carrying the war +into the country of the enemy.</p> +<p>She looked winsome in the extreme. Little dimples +ran in and out her peach-bloom cheeks. In her +eyes danced a kind of innocent devilry, and the alluring +mouth was the sweetest Cupid’s bow imaginable. +Laughter rippled over her face like the wind in +golden grain. Mayhap my eyes told what I was +thinking, for she asked in a pretty, audacious imitation +of the Scotch dialect Aileen was supposed to speak,</p> +<p>“Am I no’ bonny, Kenneth?”</p> +<p>“You are that, ’Toinette.”</p> +<p>“But you love her better?” she said softly.</p> +<p>I told her yes.</p> +<p>“And yet——” She turned and began to pull a +honeysuckle to pieces, pouting in the prettiest fashion +conceivable.</p> +<p>The graceful curves of the lithe figure provoked me. +There was a challenge in her manner, and my blood +beat with a surge. I made a step or two toward her.</p> +<p>“And yet?” I repeated, over her shoulder.</p> +<p>One by one the petals floated away. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_114' name='page_114'></a>114</span></p> +<p>“There was a time——” She spoke so softly I +had to bend over to hear.</p> +<p>I sighed. “A thousand years ago, ’Toinette.”</p> +<p>“But love is eternal, and in eternity a thousand +years are but as a day.”</p> +<p>The long curving lashes were lifted for a moment, +and the dancing brown eyes flashed into mine. +While mine held them they began to dim. On my +soul the little witch contrived to let the dew of tears +glisten there. Now a woman’s tears are just the one +thing Kenneth Montagu cannot resist. After all I am +not the first man that has come to make war and +stayed to make love.</p> +<p>“’Toinette! ’Toinette!” I chided, resolution melting +fast.</p> +<p>“And y’are commanded to love your neighbours, +Kenn.”</p> +<p>I vow she was the takingest madcap in all England, +and not the worst heart neither. I am no Puritan, +and youth has its day in which it will be served. My +scruples took wing.</p> +<p>“Faith, one might travel far and not do better,” I +told her. “When the gods send their best to a man +he were a sorry knave to complain.”</p> +<p>Yet I stood helpless, in longing desire and yet +afraid to dare. No nicety of conscience held me now, +rather apprehension. I had not lived my one and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_115' name='page_115'></a>115</span> +twenty years without learning that a young woman +may be free of speech and yet discreet of action, that +alluring eyes are oft mismated with prim maiden conscience. +’Tis in the blood of some of them to throw +down the gauntlet to a man’s courage and then to +trample on him for daring to accept the challenge.</p> +<p>Her eyes derided me. A scoffing smile crept into +that mocking face of hers. No longer I shilly-shallied. +She had brought me to dance, and she must pay the piper.</p> +<p>“Modesty is a sweet virtue, but it doesn’t butter +any bread,” I cried gaily. “Egad, I embrace my +temptation.”</p> +<p>Which same I did, and the temptress too.</p> +<p>“Am I your temptation, Adam?” quoth the lady +presently.</p> +<p>“I vow y’are the fairest enticement, Eve, that ever +trod the earth since the days of the first Garden. For +this heaven of your lips I’ll pay any price in reason. +A year in purgatory were cheap——”</p> +<p>I stopped, my florid eloquence nipped in bud, for +the lady had suddenly begun to disengage herself. +Her glance shot straight over my shoulder to the entrance +of the summer-house. Divining the presence of +an intruder, I turned.</p> +<p>Aileen was standing in the doorway looking at us +with an acrid, scornful smile that went to my heart like +a knife.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VII_MY_LADY_RAGES' id='VII_MY_LADY_RAGES'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_116' name='page_116'></a>116</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<h3>MY LADY RAGES</h3> +</div> + +<p>I was shaken quite out of my exultation. I +stood raging at myself in a defiant scorn, struck +dumb at the folly that will let a man who loves +one woman go sweethearting with another. Her eyes +stabbed me, the while I stood there dogged yet +grovelling, no word coming to my dry lips. What +was there to be said? The tie that bound me to +Aileen was indefinable, tenuous, not to be phrased; yet +none the less it existed. I stood convicted, for I had +tacitly given her to understand that no woman found +place in my mind save her, and at the first chance she +found another in my arms. Like a detected schoolboy +in presence of the rod I awaited my sentence, my +heart a trip-hammer, my face a picture of chagrin and +dread.</p> +<p>For just a moment she held me in the balance with +that dreadful smile on her face, my day of judgment +come to earth, then turned and away without a word. +I flung wildly after her, intent on explaining what could +not be explained. In the night I lost her and went +up and down through the shrubbery calling her to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_117' name='page_117'></a>117</span> +come forth, beating the currant and gooseberry bushes +in search of her. A shadow flitted past me toward +the house, and at the gate I intercepted the girl. +Better I had let her alone. My heart misgave me at +sight of her face; indeed the whole sweep of her lithesome +reedy figure was pregnant with Highland scorn +and pride.</p> +<p>“Oh, Aileen, in the arbour——” I was beginning, +when she cut me short.</p> +<p>“And I am thinking I owe you an apology for my +intrusion. In troth, Mr. Montagu, my interruption of +your love-makings was not intentional.”</p> +<p>Her voice gave me the feel of being drenched with +ice-water.</p> +<p>“If you will let me explain, Aileen——”</p> +<p>“Indeed, and there iss nothing to explain, sir. It +will be none of my business who you are loving, +and— Will you open the gate, Mr. Montagu?”</p> +<p>“But I must explain; ’twas a madness of the blood. +You do not understand——”</p> +<p>“And gin I never understand, Mr. Montagu, the +lift (sky) will not fall. Here iss a great to-do about +nothing,” she flung back with a kind of bitter jauntiness.</p> +<p>“Aileen,” I cried, a little wildly, “you will not cast +me off without a hearing. Somehow I must make it +clear, and you must try——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_118' name='page_118'></a>118</span></p> +<p>“My name it iss Miss Macleod, and I would think it +clear enough already at all events. I will be thanking +you to let me pass, sir.”</p> +<p>Her words bit, not less the scorch of her eyes. My +heart was like running water.</p> +<p>“And is this an end to all— Will you let so +small a thing put a period to our good comradeship?” +I cried.</p> +<p>“Since you mention it I would never deny that I +am under obligations to you, sir, which my brother +will be blithe to repay——”</p> +<p>“By Heaven, I never mentioned obligations; I never +thought of them. Is there no friendship in your heart +for me?”</p> +<p>“Your regard iss a thing I have valued, but”—there +was a little break in the voice which she rode +over roughshod—“I can very well be getting along +without the friendships of that girl’s lover.”</p> +<p>She snatched open the gate and flung past me to +the house, this superb young creature, tall, slim, supple, +a very Diana in her rage, a woman too if one might +judge by the breasts billowing with rising sobs. More +slow I followed, quite dashed to earth. All that I had +gained by months of service in one moment had been +lost. She would think me another of the Volney +stamp, and her liking for me would turn to hate as +with him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_119' name='page_119'></a>119</span></p> +<p>A low voice from the arbour called “Kenn!” But +I had had enough of gallivanting for one night and I +held my way sullenly to the house. Swift feet pattered +down the path after me, and presently a little +hand fell on my arm. I turned, sulky as a baited +bear.</p> +<p>“I am so sorry, Kenn,” said Mistress Antoinette +demurely.</p> +<p>My sardonic laughter echoed cheerlessly. “That +there is no more mischief to your hand. Oh never +fear! You’ll find some other poor breeched gull +shortly.”</p> +<p>The brown dovelike eyes of the little rip reproached +me.</p> +<p>“’Twill all come right, Kenn. She’ll never think +the worse of you for this.”</p> +<p>“I’ll be no more to her than a glove outworn. I +have lost the only woman I could ever love, and +through my own folly, too.”</p> +<p>“Alackaday, Kenn! Y’ ’ave much to learn about +women yet. She will think the more of you for it +when her anger is past.”</p> +<p>“Not she. One of your fashionables might, but +not Aileen.”</p> +<p>“Pooh! I think better of her than you. She’s not +all milk and water. There’s red blood in her veins, +man. Spunk up and brazen it out. Cock your chin +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_120' name='page_120'></a>120</span> +and whistle it off bravely. Faith, I know better men +than you who would not look so doleful over one of +’Toinette Westerleigh’s kisses. If I were a man I +would never kiss and be sorry for all the maids in +Christendom.”</p> +<p>The saucy piquant tilt to her chin was a sight for +the gods to admire.</p> +<p>“You forget I love her.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you play on one string. She’s not the only +maid i’ the world,” pouted the London beauty.</p> +<p>“She’s the only one for me,” I said stubbornly, and +then added dejectedly, “and she’s not for me +neither.”</p> +<p>The little rogue began to laugh. “I give you up, +Kenn. Y’are as moonstruck a lover as ever I saw. +Here’s for a word of comfort, which you don’t deserve +at all. For a week she will be a thunder-cloud, +then the sun will beam more brightly than ever. But +don’t you be too submissive. La! Women cannot +endure a wheedling lover.”</p> +<p>After that bit of advice my sage little monitor fell +sober and explained to me her reason for sending me +the note. It appeared that Sir Robert Volney was +due to meet the party at the inn that very evening, +and Miss Westerleigh was of opinion that I and my +charge would do well to take the road at once. I was +of that mind myself. I lost no time in reaching the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_121' name='page_121'></a>121</span> +house and ordering a relay of horses for our immediate +travel. Then I took the stairs three at a time and +came knocking at Aileen’s door.</p> +<p>“Who iss there?” asked a small voice, full of tears +and muffled in a pillow.</p> +<p>Her distress went to my heart, none the less because +I who had been the cause of it could not heal it.</p> +<p>“Tis I—Kenneth Montagu. Open the door, +please.”</p> +<p>There was a moment’s silence, then—</p> +<p>“I am not wishing to see Mr. Montagu to-night.”</p> +<p>“Not for the world would I trouble you, Miss Macleod, +but there is a matter I have to disclose that +touches us nearly.”</p> +<p>“I think you will not have heard aright. I am desiring +to be alone, sir,” she answered, the frost in her +voice.</p> +<p>It may be guessed that this dismissal chafed me. +My eagerness was daunted, but yet I would not be +fubbed off.</p> +<p>“Miss Macleod, you may punish me as much as +you like some other time,” I cried desperately, “but +’fore God! if you do not open the door you will regret +it till the last day of your life.”</p> +<p>“Are you threatening me, sir?” she asks, mighty +haughty.</p> +<p>“Threatening—no! I do not threaten, but warn. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_122' name='page_122'></a>122</span> +This matter is of life and death, not to be played +with;” and to emphasize my words I mentioned the +name of Volney.</p> +<p>She came raging to the door and whipped it open +very sudden. Her affronted eyes might have belonged +to a queen, but the stains on her cheeks +betrayed her.</p> +<p>“Well, and what iss this important matter that cannot +be waiting? Perhaps Mr. Montagu mistakes this +for the room of Mistress Westerleigh.”</p> +<p>I told her that Sir Robert was expected shortly to +arrive at the inn, and that we must be on the road at +once. She thanked me very primly for the information, +but declared she would not trouble me further, +that she meant to abide at the inn all night no matter +who came; moreover, that when she did leave Hamish +Gorm would be sufficient guard. I argued, cajoled, +warned, threatened, but she was not to be +moved. The girl took a perverse pleasure in thwarting +me, and the keener I grew the more dour grew +she. We might have disputed the point an hour had +I not come to my senses and appeared to give way.</p> +<p>Suspecting that the girl’s fears of Sir Robert would +reassert themselves when she was left to herself, I +sought her maid and easily induced the girl to propose +to her mistress a departure without my knowledge. +The suggestion worked like a charm, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_123' name='page_123'></a>123</span> +fifteen minutes later I had the pleasure of seeing the +chaise roll out of the lighted yard into the night. +Need it be said that Kenneth Montagu was ahorse +and after the coach within a few minutes.</p> +<p>All night I jogged behind them, and in the morning +rode up to the inn where they stopped for breakfast. +From Mistress Aileen I got the slightest bow in +the world as I passed to my solitary breakfast at a +neighbouring table. Within the hour they were away +again, and I after to cover the rear. Late in the day +the near wheeler fell very lame. The rest of the animals +were dead beat, and I rode to the nearest hamlet +to get another horse. The night was falling foul, very +mirk, with a rising wind, and methought the lady’s +eyes lightened when she saw me return with help to +get them out of their difficulty. She thanked me +stiffly with a very straight lip.</p> +<p>“At all events there will be no end to the obligations +I am under, Mr. Montagu. They will be piling +high as Ben Nevis,” she said, but ’twould have taken +a penetrating man to have discovered any friendliness +in the voice.</p> +<p>Yet henceforth I made myself one of the party, +admitted on sufferance with a very bad grace. More +than once I tried to break through the chill conventionals +that made the staple of our conversation, but +the girl was ice to me. In the end I grew stiff as she. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_124' name='page_124'></a>124</span> +I would ride beside the coach all day with scarce a +word, wearying for a reconciliation and yet nourishing +angry pride. When speech appeared to be demanded +between us ’twas of the most formal. Faith, I think +we were liker a pair of spoilt children than sensible +grown folks.</p> +<p>While we were still in the northern counties rumours +began to reach us that General Cope’s army had +been cut to pieces by the Highlanders. The stories +ran that not a single man had escaped, that the clans, +twenty thousand strong, were headed for England, that +they were burning and destroying as they advanced. +Incredible reports of all kinds sprang out of the air, +and the utmost alarm prevailed. The report of Cope’s +defeat was soon verified. We met more than one +redcoat speeding south on a foam-flecked weary steed, +and it did not need the second sight to divine that the +dispatches they carried spoke loudly of disaster fallen +and of reinforcements needed.</p> +<p>After we had crossed the border parties of foraging +Highlanders began to appear occasionally, but a word +in the Gaelic from Hamish Gorm always served as a +password for us. To make short, early in October we +reached the Scottish capital, the formal relations which +had been established between Miss Macleod and me +continuing to the end of the journey.</p> +<p>There lived in Edinburgh an unmarried aunt of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_125' name='page_125'></a>125</span> +Aileen, a Miss Flora MacBean by name, and at her +house I left the girl while I went to notify her brother +of our arrival. I found him lodged in High Street +near the old Flesh-market Close. Malcolm Macleod +was a fine manly fellow of about three and thirty, +lusty and well-proportioned, very tanned and ruddy. +He had a quick lively eye and a firm good-humoured +mouth. In brief, he was the very picture of a frank +open-hearted Highland gentleman, and in the gay +Macleod tartan looked as gallant a figure of a soldier +as one would wish to see. He greeted me with +charming friendliness and expressed himself as deeply +gratified for my care of his sister, offering again and +again to put himself at my service in any way I might +desire.</p> +<p>We walked down the street together, and more +than once a shot plumped at our feet, for the city was +under fire from the Hanoverian garrison at the castle. +Everywhere the clansmen were in evidence. Barefooted +and barelegged Celts strutted about the city +with their bonnets scrugged low on their heads, the +hair hanging wild over their eyes and the matted +beards covering their faces. For the most part they +were very ragged, and tanned exceedingly wherever +the flesh took a peep through their outworn plaids. +They ran about the streets in groups, looking in shop +windows like children and talking their outlandish +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_126' name='page_126'></a>126</span> +gibberish; then presently their Highland pride would +assert itself at the smile of some chance passer and +would send them swinging proudly off as though they +had better things at home.</p> +<p>Out of a tobacco shop came Captain Donald Roy +singing blithely,</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Will ye play me fair,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Highland laddie, Highland laddie?’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>He was of course in the full Macdonald tartan regimentals—checkered +kilt, sporran, plaid, a brace of +pistols, a dirk in his stocking, and claymore. At +sight of me his face lighted and he came running forward +with both hands outstretched.</p> +<p>“And is it you at last, Kenn? Man, but I’ve been +wearying for a sight of your honest face. I was whiles +thinking you must have given us the go-by. Fegs, +but it’s a braw day and a sight guid for sair een to see +you, lad. You will have heard how we gave Johnnie +Cope his kail through his reek.” He broke off to +hum:—</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Now Johnnie, troth, ye werena blate, to come wi’ the news o’ your ain,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And leave your men in sic a strait, so early in the morning.’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“And did you bring my kinswoman back safe with you? +I’se wad ye found the journey no’ ower lang;” and +he cocked a merry eye at me. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_127' name='page_127'></a>127</span></p> +<p>I flushed, and introduced him to Major Macleod, +who took occasion to thank him for his services to his +sister. They fell into a liking for each other at once. +When the major was called aside by one of his gillies +a moment later, Macdonald expressed his trust of the +other in the old Scotch saying,</p> +<p>“Yon’s a man to ride the water wi’, Kenneth.”</p> +<p>A curious sight illustrative of the Highland way of +“lifting” what took their fancy occurred as we were +all three walking toward the house of Macleod’s aunt. +Three shag-headed gillies in the tattered Cameron tartan +dragged an innkeeper from his taproom and set +him down squat on the causeway. Without even a +by-your-leave they took from his feet a pair of new +shoes with silver buckles. He protested that he was +a loyal Jacobite.</p> +<p>“Sae muckle ta better. She’ll no’ grumble to +shange a progue for the Prince’s guid,” one of the +caterans answered cheerfully by way of comfort.</p> +<p>To my surprise the two Highland gentlemen +watched this high-handed proceeding with much +amusement, enjoying not a little the ridiculous figure +cut by the frightened, sputtering host. I asked them +if they were not going to interfere.</p> +<p>“What for would we do that at all events?” asked +the Macdonald. “Man, Montagu, but you whiles +have unco queer notions for so wise a lad. It’s as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_128' name='page_128'></a>128</span> +natural for a Hielander to despoil a Southron as for a +goose to gang barefit. What would Lochiel think +gin we fashed wi’ his clansmen at their ploy? Na, +na! I wad be sweir to be sae upsitten (impertinent). +It wadna be tellin’ a Macdonald, I’m +thinkin’.”</p> +<p>Aileen was so prettily glad to see her brother and +so friendly with Donald Roy, so full of gay chatter +and eager reminiscence, that I felt myself quite dashed +by the note of reserve which crept into her voice and +her manner whenever she found it incumbent to speak +to me. Her laugh would be ringing clear as the echo +of steel in frost, and when Donald lugged me into the +talk she would fall mim as a schoolgirl under the eye +of her governess. Faith, you would have thought me +her dearest enemy, instead of the man that had risked +life for her more than once. Here is a pretty gratitude, +I would say to myself in a rage, hugging my +anger with the baby thought that she would some day +scourge herself for this after I were killed in battle. +Here is a fine return for loyal service rendered, and +the front of my offending is nothing more than the +saluting an old playmate.</p> +<p>“Man, Kenneth, but you hae played the cuddie +brawly,” was Donald’s comforting remark to me after +we had left. “You maun hae made an awfu’ bauchle +of it. When last I saw the lady she hoisted a fine +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_129' name='page_129'></a>129</span> +colour when I daffed about you, and now she glowers +at you in a no’ just friendly way.”</p> +<p>I admitted sadly that ’twas so and told him the +reason, for Donald Roy had a wide observation of life +and a varied experience with the sex that made him a +valuable counsellor. The situation amused him hugely, +but what he could find of humour in it was more than +I could see.</p> +<p>“Deil hae’t, but yon quean Antoinette will be a +geyan ettercap (madcap). Tony Creagh has been +telling me about her; he’s just a wee thingie touched +there himsel’.”</p> +<p>“Pardon me,” I interrupted a little stiffly, “but I +think I did not give the name of the lady.”</p> +<p>The Highlander looked at me dryly with a pawky +smile.</p> +<p>“Hoots, man! I ken that fine, but I’m no a fule. +You named over the party and I picked the lady that +suited the speceefications.” Then he began to +chuckle: “I wad hae liked dooms weel to hae seen +you stravaiging (wandering) through the grosset +(gooseberry) bushes after the lass.”</p> +<p>I told him huffily that if that was all he could say I +had better have kept the story to myself. I had come +for advice, not to be laughed at. Donald flashed his +winsome smile and linked an arm in mine.</p> +<p>“Well then, and here’s advice for you, man. Jouk +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_130' name='page_130'></a>130</span> +(duck) and let the jaw (wave) go by. Gin it were me +the colder she were the better I wad like it. Dinna +you see that the lass rages because she likes you fine; +and since she’s a Hieland maid brought up under the +blue lift she hasna learnt to hate and smile in the same +breath.”</p> +<p>“I make neither head nor tail of your riddles,” I +told him impatiently. “By your way of it so far as I +can make out she both likes and hates me. Now +how can that be?”</p> +<p>Captain Macdonald’s droll eye appeared to pity +me. “Kenneth, bairn, but you’re an awfu’ ignoramus. +You ken naething ava about the lassies. +I’m wondering what they learnt you at Oxford. Gin +it’s the same to you we’ll talk of something mair +within your comprehension.” And thereupon he diverted +the conversation to the impending invasion of +England by the Highland army. Presently I asked +him what he thought of the Prince now that he had +been given a chance to study the Young Chevalier at +closer range, and I shall never forget the eager Highlander’s +enthusiastic answer.</p> +<p>“From the head to the heel of him he is a son of +Kings, kind-hearted, gallant, modest. He takes all +hearts by storm. Our Highland laddie is the bravest +man I ever saw, not to be rash, and the most cautious, +not to be a coward. But you will be judging for +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_131' name='page_131'></a>131</span> +yourself when you are presented at the ball on +Tuesday.”</p> +<p>I told him that as yet I had no invitation to the +ball.</p> +<p>“That’s easy seen to. The Chevalier O’Sullivan +makes out the list. I’ll drop a flea in his lug (ear).”</p> +<p>Next day was Sunday, and I arrayed myself with +great care to attend the church at which one Macvicar +preached; to be frank I didn’t care a flip of my +fingers what the doctrine was he preached; but I had +adroitly wormed out of Miss MacBean that he was +the pastor under whom she sat. Creagh called on +me before I had set out, and I dragged him with me, +he protesting much at my unwonted devotion.</p> +<p>I dare say he understood it better when he saw my +eyes glued to the pew where Miss Aileen sat with her +aunt in devout attention. What the sermon was to +have been about we never knew, on account of an +interruption which prevented us from hearing it. +During the long prayer I was comfortably watching +the back of Aileen’s head and the quarter profile of +her face when Creagh nudged me. I turned to find +him looking at me out of a very comical face, and +this was the reason for it. The hardy Macvicar was +praying for the Hanoverians and their cause.</p> +<p>“Bless the King,” he was saying boldly. “Thou +knows what King I mean— May the crown sit +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_132' name='page_132'></a>132</span> +easy on his head for lang. And for the young man that +is come among us to seek an earthly crown, we beseech +Thee in mercy to take him to Thyself, and give him a +crown of glory.”</p> +<p>One could have heard a pin fall in the hush, and +then the tense rustle that swept over the church and +drowned the steady low voice that never faltered in +the prayer.</p> +<p>“Egad, there’s a hit for the Prince straight from +the shoulder,” chuckled the Irishman by my side. +“Faith, the Jacks are leaving the church to the +Whigs. There goes the Major, Miss Macleod, and +her aunt.”</p> +<p>He was right. The prayer had ended and the +Macleod party were sailing down the aisle. Others +followed suit, and presently we joined the stream that +poured out of the building to show their disapproval. +’Tis an ill wind that blows nobody good. Miss MacBean +invited Creagh and me to join them in dinner, +and methought that my goddess of disdain was the +least thing warmer to me than she had been in weeks. +For the rest of the day I trod on air.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='VIII_CHARLES_EDWARD_STUART' id='VIII_CHARLES_EDWARD_STUART'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_133' name='page_133'></a>133</span> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<h3>CHARLES EDWARD STUART</h3> +</div> + +<p>A beautifully engrossed invitation to +the Prince’s ball having duly arrived from his +Secretary the Chevalier O’Sullivan, I ask you +to believe that my toilet Tuesday evening was even +more a work of art than that of Sunday. In huge +disorder scarfs, lace cravats, muffs, and other necessary +equipment were littered about the room. I much +missed the neat touch of my valet Simpkins, and the +gillie Hamish Gorm, whom Major Macleod had put +at my service, did not supply his place by a deal, +since he knew no more of patching the face or powdering +a periwig than he had arrived at by the light +of nature. But despite this handicap I made shift to +do myself justice before I set off for the lodgings of +Lord Balmerino, by whom I was to be presented.</p> +<p>’Twas long since the Scottish capital had been so +gay as now, for a part of the policy of the Young +Chevalier was to wear a brave front before the world. +He and his few thousand Highlanders were pledged to +a desperate undertaking, but it was essential that the +waverers must not be allowed to suspect how slender +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_134' name='page_134'></a>134</span> +were the chances of success. One might have thought +from the splendour of his court and from the serene +confidence exhibited by the Prince and his chiefs that +the Stuarts were already in peaceable possession of +the entire dominions of their ancestors. A vast concourse +of well-dressed people thronged to Holyrood +House from morning till night to present their respects +to Prince Charles Edward. His politeness and +affability, as well as the charms of his conversation +and the graces of his person, swept the ladies especially +from their lukewarm allegiance to the Hanoverians. +They would own no lover who did not don the +white cockade of Jacobitism. They would hesitate at +no sacrifice to advance the cause of this romantic +young gambler who used swords for dice. All this +my three days residence in the city had taught me. I +was now to learn whether a personal meeting with +him would inspire me too with the ardent devotion +that animated my friends.</p> +<p>A mixed assembly we found gathered in the picture +gallery of Holyrood House. Here were French and +Irish adventurers, Highland chiefs and Lowland gentlemen, +all emulating each other in loyalty to the +ladies who had gathered from all over Scotland to +dance beneath the banner of the white rose. The +Hall was a great blaze of moving colour, but above +the tartans and the plaids, the mixed reds, greens, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_135' name='page_135'></a>135</span> +blues, and yellows, everywhere fluttered rampant the +white streamers and cockades of the Stuarts.</p> +<p>No doubt there were here sober hearts, full of anxious +portent for the future, but on the surface at least +was naught but merriment. The gayest abandon +prevailed. Strathspey and reel and Highland fling +alternated with the graceful dances of France and the +rollicking jigs of Ireland. Plainly this was no state +ceremonial, rather an international frolic to tune all +hearts to a common glee. We were on the top of +fortune’s wave. Had we not won for the Young +Chevalier by the sword the ancient capital of his +family, and did not the road to London invite us +southward? The pipers of each clan in turn dirled +out triumphant marches, and my heart began to beat +in faster time. Water must have filled the veins of a +man who could stand unmoved such contagious enthusiasm. +For me, I confess it, a climax came a moment +later that made my eyes swim.</p> +<p>Balmerino was talking with Malcolm Macleod and +James Hepburn of Keith, a model of manly simplicity +and honour who had been “out” in the ’15; and as +usual their talk fell on our enterprise and its gallant +young leader. Keith narrated a story of how the +Young Chevalier, after a long day’s march on foot, +had led the army three miles out of its way in order +to avoid disturbing the wife of a cottar who had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_136' name='page_136'></a>136</span> +fallen asleep at the critical stage of a severe illness. +Balmerino capped it with another anecdote of his dismounting +from his horse after the battle of Gladsmuir +to give water and attendance to a wounded English +soldier of Cope’s army.</p> +<p>Macleod smiled, eyes sparkling. “He iss every +inch the true prince. He can tramp the hills with a +Highlander all day and never weary, he can sleep on +pease-straw as well as on a bed of down, can sup on +brose in five minutes, and win a battle in four. Oh, +yes, he will be the King for Malcolm Macleod.”</p> +<p>While he was still speaking there fell over the assembly +a sudden stillness. The word was passed from +lips to lips, “The Prince comes.” Every eye swept +to the doorway. Men bowed deep and women curtsied +low. A young man was entering slowly on the +arm of Lord George Murray.</p> +<p>“The Prince!” whispered Balmerino to me.</p> +<p>The pipes crashed out a measure of “Wha’ll be +King but Charlie?” then fell into quiet sudden as +they had begun. “Dhia theasirg an Righ!” (God +save the King) cried a splendid young Highland chief +in a voice that echoed through the hall.</p> +<p>Clanranald’s cry was lifted to the rafters by a hundred +throats. A hundred claymores leaped to air, and +while the skirling bagpipes pealed forth, “The King +shall enjoy his own again,” Charles Stuart beneath +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_137' name='page_137'></a>137</span> +an arch of shining steel trod slowly down the hall to a +dais where his fathers had sat before him.</p> +<p>If the hearts of the ladies had surrendered at discretion, +faith! we of the other sex were not much +tardier. The lad was every inch a prince. His after +life did not fulfil the promise of his youth, but at this +time he was one to see, and once having seen, to love. +All the great charm of his race found expression in +him. Gallant, gracious, generous, tender-hearted in +victory and cheerful in defeat (as we had soon to +learn, alas!), even his enemies confessed this young +Stuart a worthy leader of men. Usually suffused with +a gentle pensiveness not unbecoming, the ardour of his +welcome had given him on this occasion the martial +bearing of a heroic young Achilles. With flushed +cheek and sparkling eye he ascended the dais.</p> +<p>“Ladies, gentlemen, my loyal Highlanders, friends +all, the tongue of Charles Stuart has no words to tell +the warm message of his heart. Unfriended and alone +he came among you, resolved with the help of good +swords to win back that throne on which a usurper +sits, or failing in that to perish in the attempt. How +nobly you our people have rallied to our side in this +undertaking to restore the ancient liberties of the +kingdom needs not be told. To the arbitrament of +battle and to the will of God we confidently appeal, +and on our part we pledge our sacred honour neither to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_138' name='page_138'></a>138</span> +falter nor to withdraw till this our purpose is accomplished. +To this great task we stand plighted, so +help us God and the right.”</p> +<p>’Tis impossible to conceive the effect of these few +simple sentences. Again the pipes voiced our dumb +emotion in that stirring song,</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“We’ll owre the water and owre the sea,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>We’ll owre the water to Charlie;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Come weal, come woe, we’ll gather and go,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>And live and die wi’ Charlie.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The mighty cheer broke forth again and seemed to +rock the palace, but deeper than all cheering was the +feeling that found expression in long-drawn breath and +broken sob and glimmering tear. The gallant lad had +trusted us, had put his life in our keeping; we highly +resolved to prove worthy of that trust.</p> +<p>At a signal from the Prince the musicians struck up +again the dance, and bright eyes bedimmed with tears +began to smile once more. With a whispered word +Balmerino left me and made his way to the side of the +Prince, about whom were grouped the Duke of Perth, +Lord Lewis Gordon, Lord Elcho, the ill-fated Kilmarnock, +as well as Lochiel, Cluny, Macleod, Clanranald, +and other Highland gentlemen who had taken their fortune +in their hands at the call of this young adventurer +with the enchanting smile. To see him was to understand +the madness of devotion that had carried away +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_139' name='page_139'></a>139</span> +these wise gray-haired gentlemen, but to those who +never saw him I despair of conveying in cold type the +subtle quality of charm that radiated from him. In the +very bloom of youth, tall, slender, and handsome, he +had a grace of manner not to be resisted. To condescend +to the particulars of his person: a face of perfect +oval very regular in feature; large light blue eyes +shaded by beautifully arched brows; nose good and of +the Roman type; complexion fair, mouth something +small and effeminate, forehead high and full. He was +possessed of the inimitable reserve and bearing that +mark the royal-born, and that despite his genial frankness. +On this occasion he wore his usual light-coloured +peruke with the natural hair combed over the front, a +tartan short coat on the breast of which shone the star +of the order of St. Andrews, red velvet small-clothes, +and a silver-hilted rapier. The plaid he ordinarily +carried had been doffed for a blue sash wrought with +gold.</p> +<p>All this I had time to note before Lord Balmerino +rejoined me and led me forward to the presentation. +The Prince separated himself from the group about +him and came lightly down the steps to meet me. I +fell on my knee and kissed his hand, but the Prince, +drawing me to my feet, embraced me.</p> +<p>“My gallant Montagu,” he cried warmly. “Like +father, like son. God knows I welcome you, both on +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_140' name='page_140'></a>140</span> +your own account and because you are one of the first +English gentlemen to offer his sword to the cause of +his King.”</p> +<p>I murmured that my sword would be at his service +till death. To put me at my ease he began to question +me about the state of public feeling in England +concerning the enterprise. What information I had +was put at his disposal, and I observed that his grasp +of the situation appeared to be clear and incisive. He +introduced me to the noblemen and chiefs about him, +and I was wise enough to know that if they made +much of me it was rather for the class I was supposed +to represent than for my own poor merits. +Presently I fell back to make way for another gentleman +about to be presented. Captain Macdonald +made his way to me and offered a frank hand in congratulation.</p> +<p>“’Fore God, Montagu, you have leaped gey sudden +into favour. Deil hae’t, Red Donald brought with +him a hundred claymores and he wasna half so kenspeckle +(conspicuous). I’ll wad your fortune’s made, +for you hae leaped in heels ower hurdies,” he told me +warmly.</p> +<p>From affairs of state to those of the heart may be a +long cast, but the mind of one-and-twenty takes it at +a bound. My eye went questing, fell on many a blushing +maid and beaming matron, at last singled out my +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_141' name='page_141'></a>141</span> +heart’s desire. She was teaching a Highland dance to +a graceful cavalier in white silk breeches, flowered +satin waistcoat, and most choicely powdered periwig, +fresh from the friseur. His dainty muff and exquisite +clouded cane depended from a silken loop to proclaim +him the man of fashion. Something characteristic in +his easy manner, though I saw but his back, chilled +me to an indefinable premonition of his identity. Yet +an instant, and a turn in the dance figure flung into +view the face of Sir Robert Volney, negligent and unperturbed, +heedless apparently of the fact that any +moment a hand might fall on his shoulder to lead him +to his death. Aileen, to the contrary, clearly showed +fear, anxiety, a troubled mind—to be detected in the +hurried little glances of fearfulness directed toward +her brother Malcolm, and in her plain eagerness to +have done with the measure. She seemed to implore +the baronet to depart, and Volney smilingly negatived +her appeal. The girl’s affronted eyes dared him to +believe that she danced with him for any other reason +than because he had staked his life to see her again +and she would not have his death at her door. Disdain +of her own weakness and contempt of him were +eloquent in every movement of the lissom figure. +’Twas easy to be seen that the man was working on +her fears for him, in order to obtain another foothold +with her. I resolved to baulk his scheme. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_142' name='page_142'></a>142</span></p> +<p>While I was still making my way toward them +through the throng they disappeared from the assembly +hall. A still hunt of five minutes, and I had +run down my prey in a snug little reception-room of +a size to fit two comfortably. The girl fronted him +scornfully, eyes flaming.</p> +<p>“Coward, you play on a girl’s fears, you take advantage +of her soft heart to force yourself on her,” she +was telling him in a low, bitter voice.</p> +<p>“I risk my life to see the woman that I love,” he +answered.</p> +<p>“My grief! Love! What will such a thing as you +be knowing of love?”</p> +<p>The man winced. On my soul I believe that at last +he was an honest lover. His beautiful, speaking eyes +looked straight into hers. His mannerisms had for +the moment been sponged out. Straight from the +heart he spoke.</p> +<p>“I have learnt, Aileen. My hunger for a sight of +you has starved my folly and fed my love. Believe +me, I am a changed man.”</p> +<p>The play and curve of her lips stung him. He +flung himself desperately into his mad love-making. +“‘Belle Marquise, vos beaux yeux me font mourir +d’amour,’” he quoted from Moliere. “’Tis true, +Aileen; I die of love; it burns me up,” he added passionately, +hungry eyes devouring the flying colours of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_143' name='page_143'></a>143</span> +her cheek, the mass of rippling hair, the fresh, sweet, +subtle fragrance of her presence.</p> +<p>“You’ll have to hurry about it then, for on my soul +you’re due to die of tightened hemp to-morrow,” I +told him, lounging forward from the door.</p> +<p>The girl cried out, eyes dilating, hand pressing to +the heart. For the man, after the first start he did +not turn a hair. The face that looked over his +shoulder at me was unmoved and bereft of emotion.</p> +<p>“My malapropos friend Montagu again. Devil take +it, you have an awkward way of playing harlequin +when you’re not wanted! Now to come blundering +in upon a lady and her friend is— Well, not the +best of form. Better drop it before it becomes a +habit,” he advised.</p> +<p>“’Slife, ’tis tit for tat! I learnt it from you,” was +my answer.</p> +<p>Long we looked at each other, preparing for the +battle that was to come. Save for the quick breathing +of the girl no sound fell.</p> +<p>“Sir Robert, your audacity confounds all precedent,” +I said at last.</p> +<p>“You flatter me, Mr. Montagu.”</p> +<p>“Believe me, had Major Macleod discovered you +instead of me your soul had by this time been speeding +hellward.”</p> +<p>“Exit Flattery,” he laughed. “The lady phrased +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_144' name='page_144'></a>144</span> +it less vilely. Heavenward, she put it! ’Twould be +interesting to know which of you is right.”</p> +<p>“As you say, an interesting topic of speculation, +and one you’re like to find the answer of shortly, presupposing +that you suffer the usual fate of captured +spies.”</p> +<p>His brows lifted in polite inquiry. “Indeed! A +spy?” he asked, indifferently.</p> +<p>“Why not? The favourite of the Hanoverian +usurpers discovered in our midst—what other explanation +will it bear?”</p> +<p>He smiled. “Perhaps I have a mind to join your +barelegged rebellion.”</p> +<p>“Afraid your services are not available, Sir Robert. +Three hundred Macleod claymores bar the way, all +eager to wipe out an insult to the daughter of +Raasay. Faith, when they have settled their little account +against you there won’t be much left for the +Prince.”</p> +<p>“Ah! Then for the sake of argument suppose we +put it that I’m visiting this delightful city for my +health.”</p> +<p>“You will find the climate not agree with you, I +fear.”</p> +<p>“Then say for pleasure.”</p> +<p>“’Twill prove more exciting than amusing.”</p> +<p>“On my life, dear Kenn, ’tis both.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_145' name='page_145'></a>145</span></p> +<p>“I have but to raise my voice and you are undone.”</p> +<p>“His voice was ever soft, gentle, and low, an excellent +thing in Kenneth,” he parodied, laughing +at me.</p> +<p>The girl said never a word, but her level eyes +watched me steadily. No need of words to tell me +that I was on trial! But I would not desist.</p> +<p>“You appear not to realize the situation,” I told +him coldly. “Your life is in hazard.”</p> +<p>The man yawned in my face. “Not at all, I sit +here as safe as if I were at White’s, and a devilish +deal better satisfied. Situation piquant! Company +of the best! Gad’s life, I cry content.”</p> +<p>“I think we talk at cross purposes. I am trying to +have you understand that your position is critical, Sir +Robert.”</p> +<p>Nonchalant yet watchful, indolent and yet alert, +gracefully graceless, he watched me smilingly out of +half-closed eyes; and then quietly fired the shot that +brought me to.</p> +<p>“If you were not a gentleman, Montagu, the situation +would be vastly different.”</p> +<p>“I do not see the point,” I told him; but I did, and +raged at it.</p> +<p>“I think you do. Your lips are sealed. I am your +rival”—he bowed to Aileen—“for the favour of a +lady. If you put me out of the way by playing informer +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_146' name='page_146'></a>146</span> +what appearance will it bear? You may talk +of duty till the world ends, but you will be a marked +man, despised by all—and most of all by Kenneth +Montagu.”</p> +<p>The man was right. At one sweep he had spiked +my guns, demolished my defenses. The triumph was +sponged from my face. I fumed in a stress of impotence.</p> +<p>“I don’t know about that. I shall have to think +of it. There is a duty to perform,” I said at last, +lamely.</p> +<p>He waved a hand airily. “My dear fellow, think +as long as you please. You can’t think away facts. +Egad, they’re immutable. You know me to be no +spy. Conceded that I am in a false position. What +can you do about it? You can’t in honour give me +up. I’faith, you’re handcuffed to inaction.”</p> +<p>I was, but my temper was not improved at hearing +him tell it me so suavely and so blandly. He sat +smiling and triumphant, chuckling no doubt at the +dilemma into which he had thrust me. The worst of +it was that while I was ostensibly master of the situation +he had me at his mercy. I was a helpless victor +without any of the fruits of victory.</p> +<p>“You took advantage of a girl’s soft heart to put +her in a position that was indefensible,” I told him +with bitter bluntness. “Save this of throwing yourself +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_147' name='page_147'></a>147</span> +on her mercy there was no other way of approaching +her. Of the wisdom of the serpent you have no +lack. I congratulate you, Sir Robert. But one may +be permitted to doubt the manliness of such a course.”</p> +<p>The pipers struck up a song that was the vogue +among our party, and a young man passed the entrance +of the room singing it.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Oh, it’s owre the border awa’, awa’,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>It’s owre the border awa’, awa’,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>We’ll on an’ we’ll march to Carlisle Ha’,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Wi’ its yetts, its castles, an’ a’, an’ a’.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>The audacious villain parodied it on the spot, substituting +two lines of his own for the last ones.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“You’ll on an’ you’ll march to Carlisle Ha’,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>To be hanged and quartered an’ a’, an’ a’,”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>he hummed softly in his clipped English tongue.</p> +<p>“Pity you won’t live to see it,” I retorted tartly.</p> +<p>“You’re still nursing that maggot, are you? Debating +with yourself about giving me up, eh? Well +that’s a matter you must settle with your conscience, +if you indulge in the luxury of one.”</p> +<p>“You would never give him up, Kenneth,” said +Aileen in a low voice. “Surely you would not be +doing that.”</p> +<p>“I shall not let him stay here. You may be sure +of that,” I said doggedly.</p> +<p>The girl ventured a suggestion timidly. “Perhaps +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_148' name='page_148'></a>148</span> +Sir Robert will be leaving to-morrow—for London +mayhap.”</p> +<p>Volney shook his head decisively. “Not I. Why, +I have but just arrived. Besides, here is a problem +in ethics for Mr. Montagu to solve. Strength comes +through conflict, so the schools teach. Far be it from +me to remove the cause of doubt. Let him solve his +problem for himself, egad!”</p> +<p>He seemed to find a feline pleasure in seeing how +far he could taunt me to go. He held me on the +knife-edge of irritation, and perillous as was the experiment +he enjoyed seeing whether he could not drive +me to give him up.</p> +<p>“Miss Macleod’s solution falls pat. Better leave to-morrow, +Sir Robert. To stay is dangerous.”</p> +<p>“’Tis dangerous to take a cold, to sleep, to drink; +but I tell you, my lord fool, ‘out of this nettle danger, +we pluck this flower safety,’” he quoted.</p> +<p>“I see you always have your tag of Shakespeare +ready; then let me remind you what he has to say +about the better part of valour,” I flung back, for once +alert in riposte.</p> +<p>“A hit, and from the same play,” he laughed. +“But a retreat— ’Tis not to be thought of. No, +no, Montagu! And it must be you’ll just have to give +me up.”</p> +<p>“Oh, you harp on that! You may say it once too +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_149' name='page_149'></a>149</span> +often. I shall find a way to get rid of you,” I answered +blackly.</p> +<p>“Let me find it for you, lad,” said a voice from the +doorway.</p> +<p>We turned, to find that Donald Roy had joined the +party. He must have been standing there unobserved +long enough to understand my dilemma, for he shot +straight to the mark.</p> +<p>“Sir Robert, I’ll never be denying that you’re a +bold villain, and that is the one thing that will be saving +your life this night. I’m no’ here to argie-bargie +with you. The plain fact is just this; that I dinna +care a rap for you the tane gate or the tither (the one +way or the other). I’d like fine to see you dancing +frae the widdie (gallows), but gin the lady wants you +spared I’ll no’ say her no. Mr. Englisher, you’ll just +gie me your word to tak the road for the border this +night, or I’ll give a bit call to Major Macleod. I +wouldna wonder but he wad be blithe to see you. Is +it to be the road or the Macleod?”</p> +<p>I could have kissed the honest trusty face of the +man, for he had lifted me out of a bog of unease. I +might be bound by honour, but Captain Macdonald +was free as air to dictate terms. Volney looked long +at him, weighed the man, and in the end flung up the +sponge. He rose to his feet and sauntered over to +Aileen. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_150' name='page_150'></a>150</span></p> +<p>“I am desolated to find that urgent business takes +me south at once, Miss Macleod. ’Tis a matter of the +gravest calls me; nothing of less importance than the +life of my nearest friend would take me from you. +But I’m afraid it must be ‘Au revoir’ for the present,” +he said.</p> +<p>She looked past the man as if he had not existed.</p> +<p>He bowed low, the flattery of deference in his fine +eyes, which knew so well how to be at once both bold +and timid.</p> +<p>“Forgiven my madness?” he murmured.</p> +<p>Having nothing to say, she still said it eloquently. +Volney bowed himself out of the room, nodded carelessly +to me as he passed, touched Macdonald on the +arm with a pleasant promise to attend the obsequies +when the Highlander should be brought to London +for his hanging, lounged elegantly through the crowded +assembly hall, and disappeared into the night.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='IX_BLUE_BONNETS_ARE_OVER_THE_BORDER' id='IX_BLUE_BONNETS_ARE_OVER_THE_BORDER'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_151' name='page_151'></a>151</span> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<h3>BLUE BONNETS ARE OVER THE BORDER</h3> +</div> + +<p>Next day I enrolled myself as a gentleman +volunteer in Lord Balmerino’s troop of +horse-guards, and was at once appointed to +a lieutenancy. In waiting for reinforcements and in +making preparations for the invasion three weeks +were lost, but at last, on the 31st of October, came +the order for the march. We had that day been +joined by Cluny Macpherson at the head of his +clan Pherson, by Menzies of Shien, and by several +other small bodies of Highlanders. All told our +force amounted to less than five thousand men, but +the rapidity of our movements and the impetuous +gallantry of the clansmen made the enterprise less +mad than it appeared upon the face of it. Moreover +we expected to be largely reinforced by recruits who +were to declare themselves as we marched south.</p> +<p>It may be guessed that the last hour of leisure I +had in the city was spent with Aileen. Of that hour +the greater part of it was worse than lost, for a thickheaded, +long-legged oaf of an Ayrshire laird shared +the room with us and hung to his chair with dogged +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_152' name='page_152'></a>152</span> +persistency the while my imagination rioted in diverse +forms of sudden death for him. Nor did it +lessen my impatience to know that the girl was +laughing in her sleeve at my restlessness. She took a +malicious pleasure in drawing out her hobnailed admirer +on the interesting subject of sheep-rot. At +last, having tormented me to the limit of prudence, +she got rid of him. To say truth, Miss Aileen had +for weeks held me on the tenter-hooks of doubt, now +in high hope, far more often in black despair. She +had become very popular with the young men who +had declared in favour of the exiled family, and I never +called without finding some colour-splashed Gael or +broad-tongued Lowland laird in dalliance. ’Twas impossible +to get a word with her alone. Her admirers +were forever shutting off the sunlight from me.</p> +<p>Aileen was sewing on a white satin cockade, which +the man from Ayrshire, in the intervals between the +paragraphs of his lecture on the sheep industry, had +been extremely solicitous of obtaining for a favour. +’Twas a satisfaction to me that my rustic friend departed +without it. He was no sooner gone than I +came near and perched myself on the arm of a chair +beside the girl. For a minute I sat watching in +silence the deft movements of the firm brown hands +in which were both delicacy and power.</p> +<p>Then, “For Malcolm?” I asked. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_153' name='page_153'></a>153</span></p> +<p>“No-o.”</p> +<p>“For whom then?”</p> +<p>“For a brave gentleman who iss marching south +with the Prince—a kind friend of mine.”</p> +<p>“You seem to have many of them. For which one +is the favour?” I queried, a little bitterly.</p> +<p>She looked at me askance, demure yet whimsical.</p> +<p>“You will can tell when you see him wearing it.”</p> +<p>I fell sulky, at the which mirth bubbled up in her.</p> +<p>“Is he as good a friend as I am, this fine lover of +yours?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Every whit.” Mockery of my sullenness danced +in her blue eyes.</p> +<p>“And do you—like him as well?” I blurted out, +face flaming.</p> +<p>She nodded yes, gaily, without the least sentiment +in the world.</p> +<p>I flung away in a pet. “You’re always laughing +at me. By Heaven, I won’t be made a fool of by any +girl!”</p> +<p>The corners of her eyes puckered to fresh laughter. +“Troth, and you needna fear, Kenneth. No girl will +can do that for you.”</p> +<p>“Well then,” I was beginning, half placated at the +apparent flattery, but stopped with a sudden divination +of her meaning. “You think me a fool already. +Is that it?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_154' name='page_154'></a>154</span></p> +<p>“I wass thinking that maybe you werena showing +the good gumption this day, Mr. Kenneth Montagu.”</p> +<p>My pride and my misery shook hands. I came +back to blurt out in boyish fashion,</p> +<p>“Let us not quarrel again to-day, Aileen, and—do +not laugh at me these last few minutes. We +march this afternoon. The order has been given out.”</p> +<p>Her hands dropped to her lap. Save where a spot +of faint red burned in either cheek the colour ran out +of her face. I drove my news home, playing for a +sign of her love, desiring to reach the spring of her tears.</p> +<p>“Some of us will never cross the border twice,” I +said.</p> +<p>My news had flung a shadow across the bright +track of her gayety. ’Tis one thing for a high-spirited +woman to buckle on the sword of her friend; +’tis another to see him go out to the fight.</p> +<p>“Let us not be thinking of that at all, Kenneth,” +she cried.</p> +<p>“Why not? ’Tis a fact to face,” I insisted cruelly. +“There’ll be many a merry lusty gentleman lying +quiet under the sod, Aileen, before we reach London +town. From the ownership of broad moorland and +large steading they will come down to own no more +of earth than six foot by two.”</p> +<p>“They will be dying as brave gentlemen should,” +she said, softly, her voice full of tears. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_155' name='page_155'></a>155</span></p> +<p>“And if I am one of them?” I asked, making a +more home thrust.</p> +<p>The girl stood there tall, slim, pallid, head thrown +back, the pulse in the white curved throat beating +fast.</p> +<p>“Oh Kenneth, you will not be,” she cried piteously.</p> +<p>“But if I am?”</p> +<p>“Please, Kenneth?” Her low voice implored me +to desist; so too the deep billowing breasts and melting +eyes.</p> +<p>“The fighting will be sharp and our losses heavy. +It’s his death many a man is going to, Aileen.”</p> +<p>“Yes, and if you will be believing me, Kenneth, +the harder part iss for those of us who cannot fight but +must wear away the long days and mirk nights at +home. At the least I am thinking so whatever. The +long live day we sit, and can do nothing but wait and +wait. After every fight will not some mother be +crooning the coronach for her dear son? Every glen +will have its wailing wife and its fatherless bairns. +And there will be the lovers too for whom there iss +the driech wait, forby (besides) that maybe their dearest +will be lying under the rowans with their een +steekit (eyes fixed) in death.”</p> +<p>“There are some of us who have neither mother, +wife, nor lover. Will there be none to spare a tear +for us if we fall?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_156' name='page_156'></a>156</span></p> +<p>“Indeed, and there will, but”—a wan little smile +broke through the film of gathering tears—“we will +be waiting till they are needed, and we will be praying +that the evil day may never come.”</p> +<p>“I’m hoping that myself,” I told her, smiling, “but +hope never turns aside the leaden bullet.”</p> +<p>“Prayers may,” she answered quickly, the shy lids +lifting from the blue eyes bravely to meet my look, +“and you will never be wanting (lacking) mine, my +friend.” Then with the quick change of mood that +was so characteristic of her, she added: “But I will +be the poor friend, to fash (bother) you with all these +clavers (idle talk) when I should be heartening you. +You are glad to be going, are you not?”</p> +<p>All the romance and uplift of our cause thrilled +through me.</p> +<p>“By God, yes! When my King calls I go.”</p> +<p>Her eyes shone on me, tender, wistful, proud.</p> +<p>“And that’s the true word, Kenneth. It goes to +the heart of your friend.”</p> +<p>“To hear you say that rewards me a hundred times, +dear.”</p> +<p>I rose to go. She asked, “Must you be leaving already?”</p> +<p>When I told her “Yes!” she came forward and +shyly pinned the cockade on the lapel of my coat. I +drew a deep breath and spoke from a husky throat. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_157' name='page_157'></a>157</span></p> +<p>“God bless you for that, Aileen girl.”</p> +<p>I was in two minds then about taking her in my +arms and crying out that I loved her, but I remembered +that I had made compact with myself not to +speak till the campaign was ended and the Prince +seated as regent on his father’s throne. With a full +heart I wrung her hand in silence and turned away.</p> +<p>Prince Charles and his life-guards, at the head of +the army, moved from Holyrood to Pinkie-house that +afternoon. A vast concourse of people were gathered +to cheer us on our way, as we passed through the +streets to the sound of the pipes and fife and beating +drum. More than one twisted cripple flung himself +before the horse of the Prince, begging for “the King’s +touch.” In each case the Young Chevalier disclaimed +any power of healing, but his kindly heart forbade his +denying the piteous appeal. With a slight smile of +sympathy he would comply with the request, saying, +“I touch, but God heal.” At the head of each clan-regiment +rode its chief, and in front of every company +the captains, lieutenants, and ensigns, all of +whom were gentlemen of the clan related by blood +ties to the chief. Though I say it who was one of +them, never a more devoted little army went out on a +madder or more daring enterprise.</p> +<p>Just one more glimpse of Aileen I got to carry with +me through weary months of desire. From the window +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_158' name='page_158'></a>158</span> +of her aunt’s house she was waving a tartan +scarf, and many a rugged kerne’s face lighted at the +girl’s eager loyalty. Flushed with shy daring, the +soft pliant curves of her figure all youth and grace, +my love’s picture framed in the casement was an unconscious +magnet for all eyes. The Prince smiled +and bowed to her, then said something which I did +not catch to Creagh who was riding beside him. The +Irishman laughed and looked over at me, as did also +the Prince. His Highness asked another question or +two, and presently Tony fell into narration. From +the young Stuart Prince’s curious looks at me ’twas +plain to be seen that Creagh was recounting the tale +of my adventures. Once I heard the Prince exclaim, +“What! That boy?” More than once he laughed +heartily, for Creagh was an inimitable story-teller and +every point to be scored in the telling gained sparkle +from his Irish wit. When he had finished Prince +Charles sent for me and congratulated me warmly on +the boldness and the aplomb (so he was kind enough +to phrase it) which had carried me through devious +dangers.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='X_CULLODEN' id='X_CULLODEN'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_159' name='page_159'></a>159</span> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<h3>CULLODEN</h3> +</div> + +<p>I have neither space nor heart to attempt a history +of our brilliant but ill-starred campaign. Surely +no more romantic attempt to win a throne was ever +made. With some few thousand ill-armed Highlanders +and a handful of lowland recruits the Prince cut his way +through the heart of England, defeated two armies +and repulsed a third, each of them larger than his own +and far better supplied with the munitions of war, +captured Carlisle, Manchester, and other towns, even +pushed his army beyond Derby to a point little more +than a hundred miles from London. Had the gentlemen +of England who believed in our cause been possessed +of the same spirit of devotion that animated +these wild Highlanders we had unseated the Hanoverians +out of doubt, but their loyalty was not strong +enough to outweigh the prudential considerations that +held them back. Their doubts held them inactive until +too late.</p> +<p>There are some who maintain that had we pushed +on from Derby, defeated the army of the Duke of +Cumberland, of which the chance at this time was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_160' name='page_160'></a>160</span> +good, and swept on to London, that George II would +have been sent flying to his beloved Hanover. We +know now in what a state of wild excitement the capital +city was awaiting news of our approach, how the +household treasures of the Guelphs were all packed, +how there was a run on the Bank of England, how +even the Duke of Newcastle, prime minister of Great +Britain, locked himself in his chamber all day denying +admittance to all in an agony of doubt as to whether +he had better declare at once for the Stuarts. We +know too that the Wynns and other loyal Welsh gentlemen +had already set out to rally their country for the +honest cause, that cautious France was about to send +an army to our assistance.</p> +<p>But all this was knowledge too late acquired. The +great fact that confronted us was that without a French +army to assist, our English friends would not redeem +their contingent pledges. We were numerically of no +greater force than when we had set out from Scotland, +and the hazard of an advance was too great. General +Wade and the Duke of Cumberland were closing in on +us from different sides, each with an army that outnumbered +ours, and a third army was waiting for us before +London. ’Tis just possible that we might have taken +the desperate chance and won, as the Prince was so +eager that we should do, but it was to be considered +that as a defeated army in a hostile country, had the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_161' name='page_161'></a>161</span> +fortune of war declared against us, we would surely +have been cut to pieces in our retreat. By Lord +George Murray and the chiefs it was judged wiser to +fall back and join Lord John Drummond’s army in +Scotland. They declared that they would follow +wherever the Prince chose to lead, but that they felt +strongly that a further advance was to doom their +clansmen to destruction. Reluctantly the Prince gave +way.</p> +<p>On the 6th of December, before daybreak, the +army began its retreat, which was conducted with +great skill by Lord George Murray. Never were men +more disappointed than the rank and file of the +army when they found that a retreat had been resolved +upon. Expressions of chagrin and disappointment +were to be heard on every hand. But the necessity +of the retreat was soon apparent to all, for the regulars +were now closing in on us from every hand. By out-marching +and out-maneuvering General Wade, we beat +him to Lancaster, but his horse were entering the town +before we had left the suburbs. At Clifton the Duke +of Cumberland, having joined forces with Wade, came +in touch with us, and his van was soundly drubbed by +our rear-guard under Lord George, who had with him +at the time the Stewarts of Appin, the Macphersons, +Colonel Stuart’s regiment, and Donald Roy’s Macdonalds. +By great good chance I arrived with a message +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_162' name='page_162'></a>162</span> +to Lord George from the Prince in time to take part +in this brilliant little affair. With his usual wisdom +Lord George had posted his men in the enclosures +and park of Lowther Hall, the Macdonalds on the +right of the highway, Colonel Stuart in close proximity, +and the Macphersons and the Appin regiment to the +left of the road. I dismounted, tied my horse, and +joined the Red Macdonald’s company where they +were lying in the shrubbery. We lay there a devil of a +while, Donald Roy smoking as contented as you please, +I in a stew of impatience and excitement; presently we +could hear firing over to the left where Cluny Macpherson +and Stewart of Ardshiel were feeling the enemy +and driving them back. At last the order came to advance. +Donald Roy leaped to his feet, waved his +sword and shouted “Claymore!” Next moment we +were rushing pell-mell down the hillside through the +thick gorse, over hedges, and across ditches. We met +the dragoons in full retreat across the moor at right +angles toward us, raked them with a cross fire, and +coming to close quarters cut them to pieces with the +sword. In this little skirmish, which lasted less than a +quarter of an hour, our loss was insignificant, +while that of the enemy reached well into the +three figures. The result of this engagement was +that our army was extricated from a precarious +position and that Cumberland allowed us henceforth +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_163' name='page_163'></a>163</span> +to retreat at leisure without fear of molestation.</p> +<p>Of the good fortune which almost invariably attended +our various detachments in the North, of our +retreat to Scotland and easy victory over General +Hawley at the battle of Falkirk, and of the jealousies +and machinations of Secretary Murray and the Irish +Prince’s advisers, particularly O’Sullivan and Sir +Thomas Sheridan, against Lord George Murray and +the chiefs, I can here make no mention, but come at +once to the disastrous battle of Culloden which put a +period to our hopes. A number of unfortunate circumstances +had conspired to weaken us. According to +the Highland custom, many of the troops, seeing no +need of their immediate presence, had retired temporarily +to their homes. Several of the clan regiments +were absent on forays and other military expeditions. +The Chevalier O’Sullivan, who had charge of +the commissariat department, had from gross negligence +managed to let the army get into a state bordering on +starvation, and that though there was a quantity of +meal in Inverness sufficient for a fortnight’s consumption. +The man had allowed the army to march from +the town without provisions, and the result was that at +the time of the battle most of the troops had tasted +but a single biscuit in two days. To cap all, the men +were deadly wearied by the long night march to surprise +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_164' name='page_164'></a>164</span> +the Duke of Cumberland’s army and their dejected +return to Drummossie Moor after the failure of +the attempt. Many of the men and officers slipped +away to Inverness in search of refreshments, being on +the verge of starvation; others flung themselves down +on the heath, sullen, dejected, and exhausted, to forget +their hunger for the moment in sleep.</p> +<p>Without dubiety our plain course was to have fallen +back across the Nairn among the hills and let the +Duke weary his troops trying to drag his artillery up +the mountainsides. The battle might easily have +been postponed for several days until our troops were +again rested, fed, and in good spirits. Lord George +pointed out at the counsel that a further reason for delay +lay in the fact that the Mackenzies under Lord +Cromarty, the second battalion of the Frasers under +the Master of Lovat, the Macphersons under +Cluny, the Macgregors under Glengyle, Mackinnon’s +followers, and the Glengary Macdonald’s under +Barisdale were all on the march to join us and would +arrive in the course of a day or two. That with +these reinforcements, and in the hill country, so eminently +suited to our method of warfare, we might make +sure of a complete victory, was urged by him and +others. But O’Sullivan and his friends had again obtained +the ear of the Prince and urged him to immediate +battle. This advice jumped with his own high +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_165' name='page_165'></a>165</span> +spirit, for he could not brook to fall back in the face of +the enemy awaiting the conflict. The order went +forth to gather the clans for the fight.</p> +<p>To make full the tale of his misdeeds came O’Sullivan’s +fatal slight to the pride of the Macdonalds. Since +the days of Robert the Bruce and Bannockburn it had +been their clan privilege to hold the post of honour on +the right. The blundering Irishman assigned this position +to the Athole men in forming the line of battle, +and stubbornly refused to reform his line. The Duke +of Perth, who commanded on the left wing, endeavoured +to placate the clan by vowing that they would that +day make a right of the left and promising to change +his name to Macdonald after the victory. Riding to +the Duke with a message from the Prince I chanced +on a man lying face down among the whin bushes. +For the moment I supposed him dead, till he lifted +himself to an elbow. The man turned to me a gash +face the colour of whey, and I saw that it was Donald +Roy.</p> +<p>“Ohon! Ohon! The evil day hass fallen on us, +Kenneth. Five hundred years the Macdonalds have +held the post of honour. They will never fight on the +left,” he told me in bitter despair and grief. “Wae’s +me! The red death grips us. Old MacEuan who +hass the second sight saw a vision in the night of +Cumberland’s ridens driving over a field lost to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_166' name='page_166'></a>166</span> +the North. Death on the field and on the scaffold.”</p> +<p>I have never known a man of saner common sense +than Donald Roy, but when it comes to their superstitions +all Highlanders are alike. As well I might +have reasoned with a wooden post. MacEuan of the +seeing eyes had predicted disaster, and calamity was +to be our portion.</p> +<p>He joined me and walked beside my horse toward +his command. The firing was by this time +very heavy, our cannon being quite ineffective and +the artillery of the English well served and deadly. +Their guns, charged with cartouch, flung death wholesale +across the ravine at us and decimated our ranks. +The grape-shot swept through us like a hail-storm. +Galled beyond endurance by the fire of the enemy, +the clans clamoured to be led forward in the charge. +Presently through the lifting smoke we saw the devoted +Mackintoshes rushing forward against the cannon. +After them came the Maclaughlans and the +Macleans to their left, and a moment later the whole +Highland line was in motion with the exception of +the Macdonalds, who hewed the turf with their swords +in a despairing rage but would neither fight nor fly. +Their chief, brave Keppoch, stung to the quick, advanced +almost alone, courting death rather than to +survive the day’s disgrace. Captain Donald Roy followed +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_167' name='page_167'></a>167</span> +at his heels, imploring his chieftain not to sacrifice +himself, but Keppoch bade him save himself. +For him, he would never see the sunrise again. Next +moment he fell to the ground from a musket-shot, +never to speak more. My last glimpse of Captain +Roy was to see him carrying back the body of his chief.</p> +<p>I rode back at a gallop along the ridge to my troop. +The valley below was a shambles. The English cannon +tore great gaps in the ranks of the advancing +Highlanders. The incessant fire of the infantry raked +them. From the left wing Major Wolfe’s regiment +poured an unceasing flank fire of musketry. The +Highlanders fell in platoons. Still they swept forward +headlong. They reached the first line of the +enemy. ’Twas claymore against bayonet. Another +minute, and the Highlanders had trampled down the +regulars and were pushing on in impetuous gallantry. +The thin tartan line clambering up the opposite side +of the ravine grew thinner as the grape-shot carried +havoc to their ranks. Cobham’s and Kerr’s dragoons +flanked them <i>en potence</i>. To stand that hell of fire +was more than mortal men could endure. Scarce a +dozen clansmen reached the second line of regulars. +The rest turned and cut their way, sword in hand, +through the flanking regiments which had formed on +the ground over which they had just passed with the +intention of barring the retreat. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_168' name='page_168'></a>168</span></p> +<p>Our life-guards and the French pickets, together +with Ogilvy’s regiment, checked in some measure the +pursuit, but nothing could be done to save the day. +All was irretrievably lost, though the Prince galloped +over the field attempting a rally. The retreat became +a rout, and the rout a panic. As far as Inverness the +ground was strewn with the dead slain in that ghastly +pursuit.</p> +<p>The atrocities committed after the battle would +have been worthy of savages rather than of civilized +troops. Many of the inhabitants of Inverness had +come out to see the battle from curiosity and were +cut down by the infuriated cavalry. The carnage of +the battle appeared not to satiate their horrid thirst +for blood, and the troopers, bearing in mind their disgrace +at Gladsmuir and Falkirk, rushed to and fro +over the field massacring the wounded. I could ask +any fair-minded judge to set up against this barbarity +the gentle consideration and tenderness of Prince +Charles and his wild Highlanders in their hours of +victory. We never slew a man except in the heat of +fight, and the wounded of the enemy were always +cared for with the greatest solicitude. From this one +may conclude that the bravest troops are the most +humane. These followers of the Duke had disgraced +themselves, and they ran to an excess of cruelty in an +attempt to wipe out their cowardice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_169' name='page_169'></a>169</span></p> +<p>Nor was it the soldiery alone that committed excesses. +I regret to have to record that many of the +officers also engaged in them. A party was dispatched +from Inverness the day after the battle to put +to death all the wounded they might find in the inclosures +of Culloden Park near the field of the contest. +A young Highlander serving with the English army +was afterwards heard to declare that he saw seventy-two +unfortunate victims dragged from their hiding in +the heather to hillocks and shot down by volleys of +musketry. Into a small sheep hut on the moor some +of our wounded had dragged themselves. The dragoons +secured the door and fired the hut. One instance +of singular atrocity is vouched for. Nineteen +wounded Highland officers, too badly injured to join +the retreat, secreted themselves in a small plantation +near Culloden-house, to which mansion they were +afterward taken. After being allowed to lie without +care twenty-four hours they were tossed into carts, +carried to the wall of the park, ranged against it in a +row, and instantly shot. I myself was a witness of +one incident which touches the butcher of Cumberland +nearly. If I relate the affair, ’tis because it falls +pat with the narrative of my escape.</p> +<p>In the streets of Inverness I ran across Major +Macleod gathering together the remnant of his command +to check the pursuit until the Prince should +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_170' name='page_170'></a>170</span> +have escaped. The man had just come from seeing +his brave clansmen mowed down, and his face looked +like death.</p> +<p>“The Prince— Did he escape?” I asked. “I +saw him last trying to stem the tide, with Sheridan +and O’Sullivan tugging at his reins to induce a flight.”</p> +<p>The Macleod nodded. “They passed through the +town not five minutes ago.”</p> +<p>I asked him whether he had seen anything of +Captain Roy Macdonald, and he told me that he had +last seen him lying wounded on the field. I had him +describe to me accurately the position, and rode back +by a wide circuit toward Drummossie Moor. I had +of course torn off the white cockade and put it in my +breast so as to minimize the danger of being recognized +as a follower of the Prince. My heart goes to +my throat whenever I think of that ride, for behind +every clump of whins one might look to find a +wounded clansman hiding from the riders of Cumberland. +By good providence I came on Captain Macdonald +just as three hussars were about to make an +end of him. He had his back to a great stone, and +was waiting grimly for them to shoot him down. +Supposing me to be an officer of their party the +troopers desisted at my remonstrance and left him to +me. Donald Roy was wounded in the foot, but +he managed to mount behind me. We got as far as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_171' name='page_171'></a>171</span> +the wall of the park when I saw a party of officers +approaching. Hastily dismounting, we led the horse +behind a nest of birches till they should pass. A few +yards from us a sorely wounded Highland officer was +lying. Macdonald recognized him as Charles Fraser, +younger of Inverallachie, the Lieutenant-Colonel of the +Fraser regiment and in the absence of the Master of +Lovat commander. We found no time to drag him +to safety before the English officers were upon us.</p> +<p>The approaching party turned out to be the Duke +of Cumberland himself, Major Wolfe, Lord Boyd, Sir +Robert Volney, and a boy officer of Wolfe’s regiment. +Young Fraser raised himself on his elbow to +look at the Duke. The Butcher reined in his horse, +frowning blackly down at him.</p> +<p>“To which side do you belong?” he asked.</p> +<p>“To the Prince,” was the undaunted answer.</p> +<p>Cumberland, turning to Major Wolfe, said,</p> +<p>“Major, are your pistols loaded?”</p> +<p>Wolfe said that they were.</p> +<p>“Then shoot me that Highland scoundrel who +dares look on me so insolently.”</p> +<p>Major Wolfe looked at his commander very steadily +and said quietly: “Sir, my commission is at the disposal +of your Royal Highness, but my honour is my +own. I can never consent to become a common executioner.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_172' name='page_172'></a>172</span></p> +<p>The Duke purpled, and burst out with, “Bah! +Pistol him, Boyd.”</p> +<p>“Your Highness asks what is not fitting for you to +require nor for me to perform,” answered that young +nobleman.</p> +<p>The Duke, in a fury, turned to a passing dragoon +and bade him shoot the young man. Charles Fraser +dragged himself to his feet by a great effort and +looked at the butcher with a face of infinite scorn +while the soldier was loading his piece.</p> +<p>“Your Highness,” began Wolfe, about to remonstrate.</p> +<p>“Sir, I command you to be silent,” screamed the +Duke.</p> +<p>The trooper presented his piece at the Fraser, +whose steady eyes never left the face of Cumberland.</p> +<p>“God save King James!” cried Inverallachie in +English, and next moment fell dead from the discharge +of the musket.</p> +<p>The faces of the four Englishmen who rode with +the Duke were stern and drawn. Wolfe dismounted +from his horse and reverently covered the face of the +dead Jacobite with a kerchief.</p> +<p>“God grant that when our time comes we may die +as valiantly and as loyally as this young gentleman,” +he said solemnly, raising his hat.</p> +<p>Volney, Boyd, and Wolfe’s subaltern uncovered, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_173' name='page_173'></a>173</span> +and echoed an “Amen.” Cumberland glared from +one to another of them, ran the gamut of all tints +from pink to deepest purple, gulped out an apoplectic +Dutch oath, and dug the rowels deep into his bay. +With shame, sorrow, and contempt in their hearts his +retinue followed the butcher across the field.</p> +<p>My face was like the melting winter snows. I +could not look at the Macdonald, nor he at me. We +mounted in silence and rode away. Only once he +referred to what we had seen.</p> +<p>“Many’s the time that Charlie Fraser and I have +hunted the dun deer across the heather hills, and +now——” He broke into Gaelic lamentation and +imprecation, then fell as suddenly to quiet.</p> +<p>We bore up a ravine away from the roads toward +where a great gash in the hills invited us, for we did +not need to be told that the chances of safety increased +with our distance from the beaten tracks of +travel. A man on horseback came riding behind and +overhauled us rapidly. Presently we saw that he was +a red-coated officer, and behind a huge rock we +waited to pistol him as he came up. The man leaped +from his horse and came straight toward us. I laid a +hand on Captain Roy’s arm, for I had recognized +Major Wolfe. But I was too late. A pistol ball went +slapping through the Major’s hat and knocked it +from his head. He stooped, replaced it with the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_174' name='page_174'></a>174</span> +utmost composure, and continued to advance, at the +same time calling out that he was a friend.</p> +<p>“I recognized you behind the birches, Montagu, +and thought that you and your friend could use another +horse. Take my Galloway. You will find him +a good traveller.”</p> +<p>I ask you to believe that we stared long at him. A +wistful smile touched his sallow face.</p> +<p>“We’re not all ruffians in the English army, lad. +If I aid your escape it is because prisoners have no +rights this day. My advice would be for you to +strike for the hills.”</p> +<p>“In troth and I would think your advisings good, +sir,” answered Donald. “No glen will be too far, no +ben too high, for a hiding-place from these bloody +Sassenach dogs.” Then he stopped, the bitterness +fading from his voice, and added: “But I am forgetting +myself. God, sir, the sights I have seen this day +drive me mad. At all events there iss one English +officer Captain Macdonald will remember whatever.” +And the Highlander bowed with dignity.</p> +<p>I thanked Wolfe warmly, and lost no time in taking +his advice. Captain Roy’s foot had by this time +so swollen that he could not put it in the stirrup. He +was suffering a good deal, but at least the pain served +to distract him from the gloom that lay heavy on his +spirits. From the hillside far above the town we +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_175' name='page_175'></a>175</span> +could see the lights of Inverness beginning to glimmer +as we passed. A score of times we had to dismount +on account of the roughness of the ground to lead +our horses along the steep incline of the mountainsides, +and each time Donald set his teeth and dragged +his shattered ankle through bracken and over boulder +by sheer dour pluck. Hunger gnawed at our vitals, +for in forty-eight hours we had but tasted food. +Deadly weariness hung on our stumbling footsteps, +and in our gloomy hearts lurked the coldness of despair. +Yet hour after hour we held our silent course, +clambering like heather-cats over cleugh and boggy +moorland, till at last we reached Bun Chraobg, where +we unsaddled for a snatch of sleep.</p> +<p>We flung ourselves down on the soft heather +wrapped in our plaids, but for long slumber was not +to be wooed. Our alert minds fell to a review of all +the horrors of the day: to friends struck down, to the +ghastly carnage, to fugitives hunted and shot in +their hiding-places like wild beasts, to the mistakes +that had ruined our already lost cause. The past and +the present were bitter as we could bear; thank +Heaven, the black shadow of the future hung as yet +but dimly on our souls. If we had had the second +sight and could have known what was to follow—the +countryside laid waste with fire and sword, women +and children turned out of their blazing homes to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_176' name='page_176'></a>176</span> +perish on the bleak moors, the wearing of the tartan +proscribed and made a crime punishable with death, +a hundred brave Highlanders the victim of the scaffold—we +should have quite despaired.</p> +<p>Except the gentle soughing of the wind there was +no sound to stir the silent night. A million of night’s +candles looked coldly down on an army of hunted +stragglers. I thought of the Prince, Cluny, Lord +Murray, Creagh, and a score of others, wondering if +they had been taken, and fell at last to troubled sleep, +from which ever and anon I started to hear the wild +wail of the pibroch or the ringing Highland slogans, +to see the flaming cannon mouths vomiting death or +the fell galloping of the relentless Hanoverian dragoons.</p> +<p>In the chill dawn I awoke to a ravening hunger +that was insistent to be noted, and though my eyes +would scarce believe there was Donald Roy cocked +tailor fashion on the heath arranging most temptingly +on a rock scone sandwiches of braxy mutton and a +flask of usquebaugh (Highland whiskey). I shut my +eyes, rubbed them with my forefingers, and again let +in the light. The viands were still there.</p> +<p>The Macdonald smiled whimsically over at me. +“Gin ye hae your appetite wi’ you we’ll eat, Mr. +Montagu, for I’m a wee thingie hungry my nainsell +(myself). ’Deed, to mak plain, I’m toom (empty) as +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_177' name='page_177'></a>177</span> +a drum, and I’m thinkin’ that a drappie o’ the usquebaugh +wad no’ come amiss neither.”</p> +<p>“But where in the world did you get the food, +Donald?”</p> +<p>“And where wad you think, but doon at the bit +clachan yonder? A very guid freend of mine named +Farquhar Dhu lives there. He and Donald Roy are +far ben (intimate), and when I came knocking at his +window at cock-craw he was no’ very laithe to gie me +a bit chack (lunch).”</p> +<p>“Did you climb down the mountain and back with +your sore ankle?”</p> +<p>He coloured. “Hoots, man! Haud your whitter +(tongue)! Aiblins (perhaps) I wass just wearying for +a bit exercise to test it. And gin I were you I wadna +sit cocking on that stane speiring at me upsitten +(impertinent) questions like a professor of pheelosophy, +you muckle sumph!”</p> +<p>I fell to with a will. He was not a man to be thanked +in words. Long since I had found out that Captain +Roy was one to spend himself for his friends and +make nothing of it. This was one of his many +shining qualities that drew me so strongly to him. If +he had a few of the Highland faults he did not lack +any of the virtues of his race.</p> +<p>Shortly we were on our way once more, and were +fortunate enough before night to fall in with Cluny +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_178' name='page_178'></a>178</span> +and his clan, who having heard of our reverse had +turned about and were falling back to Badenoch. At +Trotternich we found a temporary refuge at the home +of a surgeon who was distantly related to the Macdonald, +but at the end of a fortnight were driven +away by the approach of a troop of Wolfe’s regiment.</p> +<p>The course of our wanderings I think it not needful +to detail at length. For months we were forever +on the move. From one hiding-place to another the +redcoats and their clan allies drove us. No sooner +were we fairly concealed than out we were routed. +Many a weary hundred miles we tramped over the +bleak mountains white with snow. Weariness walked +with us by day, and cold and hunger lay down with +us at night. Occasionally we slept in sheilings (sheep-huts), +but usually in caves or under the open sky. +Were we in great luck, venison and usquebaugh fell +to our portion, but more often our diet was brose +(boiling water poured over oatmeal) washed down by +a draught from the mountain burn. Now we would +be lurking on the mainland, now skulking on one of +the islands or crossing rough firths in crazy boats that +leaked like a sieve. Many a time it was touch and go +with us, for the dragoons and the Campbells followed +the trail like sleuths. We fugitives had a system of +signals by which we warned each other of the enemy’s +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_179' name='page_179'></a>179</span> +approach and conveyed to each other the news. That +Balmerino, Kilmarnock, and many another pretty man +had been taken we knew, and scores of us could have +guessed shrewdly where the Prince was hiding in the +heather hills.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XI_THE_RED_HEATHER_HILLS' id='XI_THE_RED_HEATHER_HILLS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_180' name='page_180'></a>180</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<h3>THE RED HEATHER HILLS</h3> +</div> + +<p>A sullen day, full of chill gusts and drizzle, +sinking into a wet misty night! Three hunted +Jacobites, dragging themselves forward drearily, +found the situation one of utter cheerlessness. For +myself, misery spoke in every motion, and to say the +same of Creagh and Macdonald is to speak by the +card. Fatigue is not the name for our condition. +Fagged out, dispirited, with legs moving automatically, +we still slithered down cleughs, laboured through +dingles and corries, clambered up craggy mountainsides +all slippery with the wet heather, weariness +tugging at our leaden feet like a convict’s chain and +ball. Our bones ached, our throats were limekilns, +composts of sores were our ragged feet.</p> +<p>On every side the redcoats had hemmed us in, and +we knew not whether we tramped to a precarious +safety or to death. Indeed, ’twas little we cared, for +at last exhaustion had touched the limit of endurance. +Not a word had passed the lips of any of us for +hours, lest the irritation of our worn nerves should +flame into open rupture. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_181' name='page_181'></a>181</span></p> +<p>At length we stood on the summit of the ridge. +Scarce a half mile from us a shieling was to be seen +on the shoulder of the mount.</p> +<p>“That looks like the cot where O’Sullivan and the +Prince put up a month ago,” said Creagh.</p> +<p>Macdonald ruffled at the name like a turkeycock. +Since Culloden the word had been to him as a red rag +to a bull.</p> +<p>“The devil take O’Sullivan and his race,” burst out +the Scotch Captain. “Gin it had not been for him +the cause had not been lost.”</p> +<p>The Irishman’s hot temper flared.</p> +<p>“You forget the Macdonalds, sir,” he retorted, +tartly.</p> +<p>“What ails you at the Macdonalds?” demanded +the gentleman of that ilk, looking him over haughtily +from head to foot.</p> +<p>Creagh flung out his answer with an insolent laugh. +“Culloden.”</p> +<p>The Macdonald’s colour ebbed. “It will be a great +peety that you hafe insulted me, for there will presently +be a dead Irishman to stain the snow with hiss +blood,” he said deliberately, falling into more broken +English as he always did when excited.</p> +<p>Creagh shrugged. “That’s on the knees of the +gods. At the worst it leaves one less for the butcher +to hang, Scotch or Irish.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_182' name='page_182'></a>182</span></p> +<p>“It sticks in my mind that I hafe heard you are a +pretty man with the steel—at the least I am thinking +so,” said Captain Roy, standing straight as an arrow, +his blue eyes fixed steadily on his opponent.</p> +<p>“Gadso! Betwixt and between, but I dare say my +sword will serve to keep my head at all events whatefer,” +cried Creagh, mimicking scornfully the other’s +accent.</p> +<p>Donald whipped his sword from its scabbard.</p> +<p>“Fery well. That will make easy proving, sir.”</p> +<p>The quarrel had cropped out so quickly that hitherto +I had found no time to interfere, but now I came between +them and beat down the swords.</p> +<p>“Are you mad, gentlemen? Put up your sword, +Tony. Back, Macdonald, or on my soul I’ll run you +through,” I cried.</p> +<p>“Come on, the pair of ye. Captain Roy can fend +for (look out for) himself,” shouted the excited Highlander, +thrusting at me.</p> +<p>“Fall back, Tony, and let me have a word,” I +implored.</p> +<p>The Irishman disengaged, his anger nearly gone, a +whimsical smile already twitching at his mouth.</p> +<p>“Creagh, you don’t mean to impeach the courage +of Captain Macdonald, do you?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Not at all—not at all. Faith, I never saw a man +more keen to fight,” he admitted, smiling. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_183' name='page_183'></a>183</span></p> +<p>“He was wounded at Culloden. You know that?”</p> +<p>“So I have heard.” Then he added dryly, some +imp of mischief stirring him: “In the heel, wasn’t it?”</p> +<p>“Yes, in the foot,” I told him hastily. “I suppose +you do not doubt the valour of the Captain’s clan any +more than his own.”</p> +<p>“Devil a bit!” he answered carelessly. “I’ve seen +them fight too often to admit of any question as to +their courage at all, at all. For sheer daring I never +saw the beat of the Highland troops—especially if +there chanced to be any plunder on the other side of +the enemy, Egad!”</p> +<p>I turned to Donald Roy, who was sullenly waiting +for me to have done. “Are you satisfied, Captain, +that Tony meant to impute nothing against you or +your men?”</p> +<p>“Oich! Oich!” he grumbled. “I wass thinking I +heard some other dirty sneers.”</p> +<p>“If the sneers were unjust I retract them with the +best will in the world. Come, Captain Macdonald, +sure ’tis not worth our while doing the work of the +redcoats for them. ’Slife, ’tis not fair to Jack +Ketch!” exclaimed the Irishman.</p> +<p>“Right, Donald! Why, you fire-eating Hotspur, +you began it yourself with a fling at the Irish. Make +up, man! Shake hands with Tony, and be done with +your bile.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_184' name='page_184'></a>184</span></p> +<p>Creagh offered his hand, smiling, and his smile was +a handsome letter of recommendation. Donald’s face +cleared, and he gripped heartily the hand of the other.</p> +<p>“With great pleasure, and gin I said anything offensive +I eat my words at all events,” he said.</p> +<p>“You may say what you please about O’Sullivan, +Captain Macdonald. Ecod, he may go to the devil +for me,” Creagh told him.</p> +<p>“Well, and for me too; ’fore God, the sooner the +better.”</p> +<p>“If there is to be no throat-cutting to warm the +blood maybe we had better push on to the bothy, gentlemen. +I’m fain niddered [perishing] with the cold. +This Highland mist goes to the marrow,” I suggested +merrily, and linking arms with them I moved forward.</p> +<p>In ten minutes we had a roaring fire ablaze, and +were washing down with usquebaugh the last trace of +unkindness. After we had eaten our bannocks and +brose we lay in the shine of the flame and revelled in +the blessed heat, listening to the splash of the rain +outside. We were still encompassed by a cordon of +the enemy, but for the present we were content to +make the most of our unusual comfort.</p> +<p>“Here’s a drammoch left in the flask. I give you +the restoration, gentlemen,” cried Donald.</p> +<p>“I wonder where the Prince is this night,” I said +after we had drunk the toast. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_185' name='page_185'></a>185</span></p> +<p>We fell to a meditative sombre silence, and presently +Captain Roy began to sing softly one of those +touching Jacobite melodies that go to the source of tears +like rain to the roots of flowers. Donald had one of +the rare voices that carry the heart to laughter and to +sobs. The singer’s song, all pathos and tenderness, +played on the chords of our emotion like a harp. +My eyes began to smart. Creagh muttered something +about the peat-smoke affecting his, and I’m +fain to admit that I rolled over with my face from the +fire to hide the tell-tale tears. The haunting pathetic +wistfulness of the third stanza shook me with sobs.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“On hills that are by right his ain,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>He roams a lanely stranger;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>On ilka hand he’s pressed by want,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>On ilka hand by danger.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“Ohon! Ohon!” groaned Donald. “The evil day! +The evil day! Wae’s me for our bonnie Hieland +laddie!”</p> +<p>“May the Blessed Mother keep him safe from all +enemies and dangers!” said Creagh softly.</p> +<p>“And God grant that he be warm and well fed this +bitter night wherever he may be,” I murmured.</p> +<p>Something heavy like the butt of a musket fell +against the door, and we started to our feet in an instant. +Out flashed our swords.</p> +<p>“Who goes?” cried the Macdonald. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_186' name='page_186'></a>186</span></p> +<p>We threw open the door, and in came a party of +four, rain dripping from their soaked plaids. I recognized +at once Young Clanranald and Major Macleod. +The other two were a tattered gillie in the Macdonald +tartan and a young woman of most engaging appearance, +who was supported in the arms of Clanranald +and his henchman. The exhausted lady proved to be +no other than the celebrated Miss Flora Macdonald, +whose gallant and generous devotion, for a protracted +period, as we afterwards learned, had undoubtedly +saved the life of the Prince from his enemies.</p> +<p>Donald no sooner beheld his kinswoman than he +dropped on his knee and with the wildest demonstrations +of joy kissed the hand of the ragged kerne who +supported her. I stared at Captain Roy in amazement, +and while I was yet wondering at his strange +behaviour Tony Creagh plumped down beside him. +My eyes went to the face of the gillie and encountered +the winsome smile of the Young Chevalier. Desperately +white and weary as he was, and dressed in an +outcast’s rags, he still looked every inch the son of +kings. To me he was always a more princely figure +in his days of adversity, when he roamed a hunted +wanderer among Highland heughs and corries with +only those about him over whose hearts he still was +king, than when he ruled at Holyrood undisputed +master of Scotland. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_187' name='page_187'></a>187</span></p> +<p>It appeared that the party of the Prince, with the +exception of Clanranald, were destined for Raasay, +could they but run the cordon of troopers who +guarded the island of Skye. Through Malcolm, arrangements +had been made by which Murdoch Macleod, +a younger brother wounded at Culloden, was to +be in waiting with a boat to convey the party of the +Prince across the sound. It will be believed that we +discussed with much care and anxiety the best disposition +to be made of ourselves in running the lines of +the enemy. The final decision was that the Prince, +Malcolm, and I should make the attempt that night +while Creagh, Captain Roy, and Miss Flora followed +at their leisure on the morrow. Since the young lady +was provided with a passport for herself and her attendant +this promised to be a matter of small danger +on their part.</p> +<p>Never have I known a woman treated with truer +chivalry and deference than this heroic Highland girl +was by these hardy mountaineers. Her chief, Clanranald, +insisted on building with his own hands a fire +in her sleeping room “ben” the house, and in every +way the highest marks of respect were shown her for +her devotion to the cause. Though he expected to +join her again shortly, the Prince made her his warmest +acknowledgments of thanks in a spirit of pleasantry +which covered much tender feeling. They had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_188' name='page_188'></a>188</span> +been under fire together and had shared perils by land +and by sea during which time his conduct to her had +been perfect, a gentle consideration for her comfort +combined with the reserve that became a gentleman +under such circumstances. On this occasion he +elected to escort her in person to the door of her +chamber.</p> +<p>After a snatch of sleep we set out on our perillous +journey. Sheets of rain were now falling in a very +black night. Donald Roy parted from us at the door +of the hut with much anxiety. He had pleaded hard +to be allowed to join the party of the Prince, but had +been overruled on the ground that he was the only +one of us with the exception of Malcolm that could +act as a guide. Moreover he was the kinsman of +Miss Flora, and therefore her natural protector. Over +and over he urged us to be careful and to do nothing +rash. The Prince smilingly answered him with a +shred of the Gaelic.</p> +<p>“Bithidh gach ni mar is aill Dhiu.” (All things +must be as God will have them.)</p> +<p>The blackness of the night was a thing to be felt. +Not the faithful Achates followed Æneas more closely +than did we the Macleod. No sound came to us but +the sloshing of the rain out of a sodden sky and the +noise of falling waters from mountain burns in spate +(flood). Hour after hour while we played blindly follow-my-leader +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_189' name='page_189'></a>189</span> +the clouds were a sieve over our devoted +heads. Braes we breasted and precipitous +heathery heights we sliddered down, but there was always +rain and ever more rain, turning at last into a +sharp thin sleet that chilled the blood.</p> +<p>Then in the gray breaking of the day Malcolm +turned to confess what I had already suspected, that +he had lost the way in the darkness. We were at +present shut in a sea of fog, a smirr of mist and rain, +but when that lifted he could not promise that we +would not be close on the campfires of the dragoons. +His fine face was a picture of misery, and bitterly he +reproached himself for the danger into which he had +led the Prince. The Young Chevalier told him gently +that no blame was attaching to him; rather to us all +for having made the attempt in such a night.</p> +<p>For another hour we sat on the dripping heather +opposite the corp-white face of the Macleod waiting +for the mist to lift. The wanderer exerted himself to +keep us in spirits, now whistling a spring of +Clanranald’s march, now retailing to us the story of +how he had walked through the redcoats as Miss +Macdonald’s Betty Burke. It may be conceived with +what anxiety we waited while the cloud of moisture +settled from the mountain tops into the valleys.</p> +<p>“By Heaven, sir, we have a chance,” cried Malcolm +suddenly, and began to lead the way at a great pace +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_190' name='page_190'></a>190</span> +up the steep slope. For a half hour we scudded +along, higher and higher, always bearing to the right +and at such a burst of speed that I judged we must be +in desperate danger. The Prince hung close to the +heels of Malcolm, but I was a sorry laggard ready to +die of exhaustion. When the mist sank we began to +go more cautiously, for the valley whence we had just +emerged was dotted at intervals with the campfires of +the soldiers. Cautiously we now edged our way along +the slippery incline, keeping in the shadow of great +rocks and broom wherever it was possible. ’Tis not in +nature to walk unmoved across an open where every +bush may hide a sentinel who will let fly at one as +gladly as at a fat buck—yes, and be sure of thirty +thousand pounds if he hit the right mark. I longed +for eyes in the back of my head, and every moment +could feel the lead pinging its way between my shoulder +blades.</p> +<p>Major Macleod had from his youth stalked the wary +stag, and every saugh and birch and alder in our +course was made to yield us its cover. Once a muircock +whirred from my very feet and brought my heart +to my mouth. Presently we topped the bluff and disappeared +over its crest. Another hour of steady +tramping down hill and the blue waters of the sound +stretched before us. ’Twas time. My teeth chattered +and my bones ached. I was sick—sick—sick. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_191' name='page_191'></a>191</span></p> +<p>“And here we are at the last,” cried the Major with +a deep breath of relief. “I played the gomeral brawly, +but in the darkness we blundered ram-stam through +the Sassenach lines.”</p> +<p>“‘Fortuna favet fatuis,’” quoted the Young Chevalier. +“Luck for fools! The usurper’s dragoons will +have to wait another day for their thirty thousand +pounds. Eh, Montagu?” he asked me blithely; then +stopped to stare at me staggering down the beach. +“What ails you, man?”</p> +<p>I was reeling blindly like a drunkard, and our Prince +put an arm around my waist. I resisted feebly, but he +would have none of it; the arm of a king’s son (de +jure) supported me to the boat.</p> +<p>We found as boatmen not only Murdoch Macleod +but his older brother Young Raasay, the only one of +the family that had not been “out” with our army. +He had been kept away from the rebellion to save the +family estates, but his heart was none the less with us.</p> +<p>“And what folly is this, Ronald?” cried Malcolm +when he saw the head of the house on the links. +“Murdoch and I are already as black as we can be, +but you were to keep clean of the Prince’s affairs. +It wad be a geyan ill outcome gin we lost the estates +after all. The red cock will aiblins craw at Raasay +for this.”</p> +<p>“I wass threepin’ so already, but he wass dooms +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_192' name='page_192'></a>192</span> +thrang to come. He’ll maybe get his craig raxed +(neck twisted) for his ploy,” said Murdoch composedly.</p> +<p>“By Heaven, Malcolm, I’ll play the trimmer no +longer. Raasay serves his Prince though it cost both +the estate and his head,” cried the young chieftain +hotly.</p> +<p>“In God’s name then let us get away before the +militia or the sidier roy (red soldiers) fall in with us. +In the woody cleughs yonder they are thick as blackcocks +in August,” cried the Major impatiently.</p> +<p>We pushed into the swirling waters and were presently +running free, sending the spurling spray flying on +both sides of the boat. The wind came on to blow +pretty hard and the leaky boat began to fill, so that we +were hard put to it to keep from sinking. The three +brothers were quite used to making the trip in foul +weather, but on the Prince’s account were now much +distressed. To show his contempt for danger, the +royal wanderer sang a lively Erse song. The Macleods +landed us at Glam, and led the way to a +wretched hovel recently erected by some shepherds. +Here we dined on broiled kid, butter, cream, and oaten +bread.</p> +<p>I slept round the clock, and awoke once more a +sound man to see the Prince roasting the heart of the +kid on an iron spit. Throughout the day we played +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_193' name='page_193'></a>193</span> +with a greasy pack of cards to pass the time. About +sundown Creagh joined us, Macdonald having stayed +on Skye to keep watch on any suspicious activity +of the clan militia or the dragoons. Raasay’s clansmen, +ostensibly engaged in fishing, dotted the shore +of the little island to give warning of the approach of +any boats. To make our leader’s safety more certain, +the two proscribed brothers took turns with Creagh +and me in doing sentinel duty at the end of the path +leading to the sheep hut.</p> +<p>At the desire of the Prince—and how much more +at mine!—we ventured up to the great house that +night to meet the ladies, extraordinary precautions +having been taken by Raasay to prevent the possibility +of any surprise. Indeed, so long as the Prince +was in their care, Raasay and his brothers were as +anxious as the proverbial hen with the one chick. +Doubtless they felt that should he be captured while +on the island the reputation of the house would be +forever blasted. And this is the most remarkable fact +of Charles Edward Stuart’s romantic history; that in +all the months of his wandering, reposing confidence +as he was forced to do in hundreds of different persons, +many of them mere gillies and some of them +little better than freebooters, it never seems to have +occurred to one of these shag-headed Gaels to earn an +immense fortune by giving him up. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_194' name='page_194'></a>194</span></p> +<p>My heart beat a tattoo against my ribs as I followed +the Prince and Raasay to the drawing-room where his +sister and Miss Macdonald awaited us. Eight months +had passed since last I had seen my love; eight +months of battle, of hairbreadth escapes, and of hardships +scarce to be conceived. She too had endured +much in that time. Scarce a house in Raasay but +had been razed by the enemy because her brothers +and their following had been “out” with us. I was +to discover whether her liking for me had outlived the +turmoils of “the ’45,” or had been but a girlish fancy.</p> +<p>My glance flashed past Miss Flora Macdonald and +found Aileen on the instant. For a hundredth part +of a second our eyes met before she fell to making her +devoirs to the Young Chevalier, and after that I did +not need to be told that my little friend was still +staunch and leal. I could afford to wait my turn with +composure, content to watch with long-starved eyes +the delicacy and beauty of this sweet wild rose I coveted. +Sure, hers was a charm that custom staled not +nor longer acquaintance made less alluring. Every +mood had its own characteristic fascination, and are +not the humours of a woman numberless? She had +always a charming note of unconventional freshness, a +childlike <i>naiveté</i> of immaturity and unsophistication +at times, even a certain girlish shy austerity that had +for me a touch of saintliness. But there— Why +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_195' name='page_195'></a>195</span> +expatiate? A lover’s midsummer madness, you will +say!</p> +<p>My turn at last! The little brown hand pressed +mine firmly for an instant, the warm blue eyes met +mine full and true, the pulse in the soft-throated neck +beat to a recognition of my presence. I found time to +again admire the light poise of the little head carried +with such fine spirit, the music of the broken English +speech in this vibrant Highland voice.</p> +<p>“Welcome— Welcome to Raasay, my friend!” +Then her eyes falling on the satin cockade so faded +and so torn, there came a tremulous little catch to her +voice, a fine light to her eyes. “It iss the good tale +that my brothers have been telling me of Kenneth Montagu’s +brave devotion to hiss friends, but I wass not +needing to hear the story from them. I will be thinking +that I knew it all already,” she said, a little timidly.</p> +<p>I bowed low over her hand and kissed it. “My +friends make much of nothing. Their fine courage +reads their own spirit reflected in the eyes of others.”</p> +<p>“Oh, then I will have heard the story wrong. It +would be Donald who went back to Drummossie +Moor after you when you were wounded?”</p> +<p>“Could a friend do less?”</p> +<p>“Or more?”</p> +<p>“He would have done as much for me. My plain +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_196' name='page_196'></a>196</span> +duty!” I said, shrugging, anxious to be done with the +subject.</p> +<p>She looked at me with sparkling eyes, laughing at +my discomposure, in a half impatience of my stolid +English phlegm.</p> +<p>“Oh, you men! You go to your death for a friend, +and if by a miracle you escape: ‘Pooh! ’Twas nothing +whatever. Gin it rain to-morrow, I think ’twill be +foul,’ you say, and expect to turn it off so.”</p> +<p>I took the opening like a fox.</p> +<p>“Faith, I hope it will not rain to-morrow,” I said. +“I have to keep watch outside. Does the sun never +shine in Raasay, Aileen?”</p> +<p>“Whiles,” she answered, laughing. “And are all +Englishmen so shy of their virtues?”</p> +<p>Tony Creagh coming up at that moment, she referred +the question to him.</p> +<p>“Sure, I can’t say,” he answered unsmilingly. +“’Fraid I’m out of court. Never knew an Englishman +to have any.”</p> +<p>“Can’t you spare them one at the least?” Aileen +implored, gaily.</p> +<p>He looked at her, then at me, a twinkle in his +merry Irish eyes.</p> +<p>“Ecod then, I concede them one! They’re good +sportsmen. They follow the game until they’ve +bagged it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_197' name='page_197'></a>197</span></p> +<p>We two flushed in concert, but the point of her wit +touched Creagh on the <i>riposte</i>.</p> +<p>“The men of the nation being disposed of in such +cavalier fashion, what shall we say of the ladies, sir?” +she asked demurely.</p> +<p>“That they are second only to the incomparable +maidens of the North,” he answered, kissing her hand +in his extravagant Celtic way.</p> +<p>“But I will not be fubbed off with your Irish blarney. +The English ladies, Mr. Creagh?” she merrily +demanded.</p> +<p>“Come, Tony, you renegade! Have I not heard +you toast a score of times the beauties of London?” +said I, coming up with the heavy artillery.</p> +<p>“Never, I vow. Sure I always thought Edinburgh +a finer city—not so dirty and, pink me, a +vast deal more interesting. Now London is +built——”</p> +<p>“On the Thames. So it is,” I interrupted dryly. +“And—to get back to the subject under discussion—the +pink and white beauties of London are built to +take the eye and ensnare the heart of roving Irishmen. +Confess!”</p> +<p>“Or be forever shamed as recreant knight,” cried +Aileen, her blue eyes bubbling with laughter.</p> +<p>Tony unbuckled his sword and offered it her. “If +I yield ’tis not to numbers but to beauty. Is my confession +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_198' name='page_198'></a>198</span> +to be in the general or the particular, Miss +Macleod?”</p> +<p>“Oh, in the particular! ’Twill be the mair interesting.”</p> +<p>“Faith then, though it be high treason to say so of +one lady before another, Tony Creagh’s scalp dangles +at the belt of the most bewitching little charmer in +Christendom.”</p> +<p>“Her name?”</p> +<p>“Mistress Antoinette Westerleigh, London’s reigning +toast.”</p> +<p>Aileen clapped her hands in approving glee.</p> +<p>“And did you ever tell her?”</p> +<p>“A score of times. Faith, ’twas my rule to propose +every second time I saw her and once in between.”</p> +<p>“And she——?”</p> +<p>“Laughed at me; played shill-I-shall-I with my devotion; +vowed she would not marry me till I had +been killed in the wars to prove I was a hero; smiled +on me one minute and scorned me the next.”</p> +<p>“And you love her still?”</p> +<p>“The sun rises in ’Toinette’s eyes; when she frowns +the day is vile.”</p> +<p>“Despite her whims and arrogances?”</p> +<p>“Sure for me my queen can do no wrong. ’Tis +her right to laugh and mock at me so only she enjoy it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_199' name='page_199'></a>199</span></p> +<p>Aileen stole one shy, quick, furtive look at me. It +seemed to question whether her lover was such a pattern +of meek obedience.</p> +<p>“And you never falter? There iss no other woman +for you?”</p> +<p>“Saving your presence, there is no other woman in +the world?”</p> +<p>Her eyes glistened.</p> +<p>“Kneel down, sir,” she commanded.</p> +<p>Tony dropped to a knee. She touched him lightly +on the shoulder with his sword.</p> +<p>“In love’s name I dub you worthy knight. Be +bold, be loyal, be fortunate. Arise, Sir Anthony +Creagh, knight of the order of Cupid!”</p> +<p>We three had wandered away together into an +alcove, else, ’tis almost needless to say, our daffing +had not been so free. Now Malcolm joined us with a +paper in his hand. He spoke to me, smiling yet +troubled too.</p> +<p>“More labours, O my Theseus! More Minotaurs +to slay! More labyrinths to thread!”</p> +<p>“And what may be these labours now?” I asked.</p> +<p>“Captain Donald Roy sends for you. He reports +unusual activity among the clan militia and the redcoats +on Skye. A brig landed men and officers +there yesterday. And what for will they be coming?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_200' name='page_200'></a>200</span></p> +<p>“I think the reason is very plain, Major Macleod,” +said Tony blithely.</p> +<p>“I’m jalousing (suspecting) so mysel’. They will +be for the taking of a wheen puir callants (lads) that +are jinking (hiding) in the hill birken (scrub). But +here iss the point that must be learned: do they ken +that the Prince iss on the islands?”</p> +<p>Creagh sprang to his feet from the chair in which +he had been lazying. “The devil’s in it! Why +should Montagu go? Why not I?”</p> +<p>“Because you can’t talk the Gaelic, Creagh. +You’re barred,” I told him triumphantly.</p> +<p>“Would you be sending our guest on such an errand +of danger, Malcolm?” asked Aileen in a low +voice.</p> +<p>“Not I, but Fegs! I will never say the word to +hinder if he volunteers. ’Tis in the service of the +Prince. The rest of us are kent (known) men and +canna gang.”</p> +<p>Grouped behind Malcolm were now gathered the +Prince, Raasay, and Miss Flora. To me as a focus +came all eyes. I got to my feet in merry humour.</p> +<p>“Ma foi! Ulysses as a wanderer is not to be +compared with me. When do I set out, Major?”</p> +<p>“At skreigh-o’-day (daybreak). And the sooner +you seek your sleep the better. Best say good-night +to the lassies, for you’ll need be wide awake the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_201' name='page_201'></a>201</span> +morn twa-three hours ere sun-up. Don’t let the redcoats +wile (lure) you into any of their traps, lad. You +maunna lose your head or——”</p> +<p>“——Or I’ll lose my head,” I answered, drolling. +“I take you, Major; but, my word for it, I have not, +played hide-and-go-seek six months among your +Highland lochs and bens to dance on air at the last.”</p> +<p>The Prince drew me aside. “This will not be forgotten +when our day of power comes, Montagu. I +expected no less of your father’s son.” Then he +added with a smile: “And when Ulysses rests safe +from his wanderings at last I trust he will find his +Penelope waiting for him with a true heart.”</p> +<p>Without more ado I bade Miss Macdonald and +Aileen good-bye, but as I left the room I cast a last +look back over my shoulder and methought that the +lissome figure of my love yearned forward toward me +tenderly and graciously.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XII_VOLNEY_PAYS_A_DEBT' id='XII_VOLNEY_PAYS_A_DEBT'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_202' name='page_202'></a>202</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<h3>VOLNEY PAYS A DEBT</h3> +</div> + +<p>There are some to whom strange changes +never come. They pursue the even tenor of +their way in humdrum monotony, content to +tread the broad safe path of routine. For them the +fascination of the mountain peaks of giddy chance has +no allurement, the swift turbulent waters of intrigue +no charm. There are others with whom Dame Fortune +plays many an exciting game, and to these adventure +becomes as the very breath of life. To such +every hazard of new fortune is a diversion to be +eagerly sought.</p> +<p>Something of this elation seized me—for I am of +this latter class—as Murdoch and his gillies rowed +me across the sound to Skye in the darkness of the +early morning. It was a drab dawn as ever I have +seen, and every tug at the oars shot me nearer to the +red bloodhounds who were debouched over the island. +What then? Was I not two years and twenty, and +did I not venture for the life of a king’s son? To-day +I staked my head on luck and skill; to-morrow—but +let the future care for her own. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_203' name='page_203'></a>203</span></p> +<p>In a grove of beeches about half a mile from Portree +we landed, and Murdoch gave the call of the +whaup to signal Donald Roy. From a clump of +whins in the gorse the whistle echoed back to us, and +presently Captain Macdonald came swinging down to +the shore. It appeared that another boatload of soldiers +had been landed during the night, a squad of +clan militia under the command of a Lieutenant Campbell. +We could but guess that this portended some +knowledge as to the general whereabouts of the +Prince, and ’twas my mission to learn the extent and +reliability of that knowledge if I could. That there +was some danger in the attempt I knew, but it had +been minimized by the philibeg and hose, the Glengarry +bonnet and Macleod plaid which I had donned +at the instance of Malcolm.</p> +<p>I have spoken of chance. The first stroke of it fell +as I strode along the highway to Portree. At a +crossroad intersection I chanced on a fellow trudging +the same way as myself. He was one of your furtive-faced +fellows, with narrow slits of eyes and an acquired +habit of skellying sidewise at one out of them. Cunning +he was beyond doubt, and from the dour look of +him one to bear malice. His trews were like Joseph’s +coat for the colour of the many patches, but I made +them out to have been originally of the Campbell +plaid. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_204' name='page_204'></a>204</span></p> +<p>“A fine day, my man,” says I with vast irony.</p> +<p>“Wha’s finding faut wi’ the day?” he answers +glumly.</p> +<p>“You’ll be from across the mountains on the mainland +by the tongue of you,” I ventured.</p> +<p>“Gin you ken that there’ll be nae use telling you.”</p> +<p>“A Campbell, I take it.”</p> +<p>He turned his black-a-vised face on me, scowling.</p> +<p>“Or perhaps you’re on the other side of the hedge—implicated +in this barelegged rebellion, I dare say.”</p> +<p>Under my smiling, watchful eye he began to grow +restless. His hand crept to his breast, and I heard +the crackle of papers.</p> +<p>“Deil hae’t, what’s it to you?” he growled.</p> +<p>“To me? Oh, nothing at all. Merely a friendly +interest. On the whole I think my first guess right. +I wouldn’t wonder but you’re carrying dispatches +from Lieutenant Campbell.”</p> +<p>The fellow went all colours and was as easy as a +worm on a hook.</p> +<p>“I make no doubt you’ll be geyan tired from long +travel, and the responsibility of carrying such important +documents must weigh down your spirits,” I +drolled, “and so I will trouble you”—with a pistol +clapped to his head and a sudden ring of command +in my voice—“to hand them over to me at once.”</p> +<p>The fellow’s jaw dropped lankly. He looked hither +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_205' name='page_205'></a>205</span> +and thither for a way of escape and found none. He +was confronting an argument that had a great deal of +weight with him, and out of the lining of his bonnet +he ripped a letter.</p> +<p>“Thanks, but I’ll take the one in your breast +pocket,” I told him dryly.</p> +<p>Out it came with a deal of pother. The letter was +addressed to the Duke of Cumberland, Portree, Skye. +My lips framed themselves to a long whistle. Here +was the devil to pay. If the butcher was on the +island I knew he had come after bigger game than +muircocks. No less a quarry than the Prince himself +would tempt him to this remote region. I marched +my prisoner back to Captain Roy and Murdoch. To +Donald I handed the letter, and he ripped it open without +ceremony. ’Twas merely a note from the Campbell +Lieutenant of militia, to say that the orders of his +Highness regarding the watching of the coast would +be fulfilled to the least detail.</p> +<p>“Well, and here’s a pirn to unravel. What’s to +be done now?” asked the Macdonald.</p> +<p>“By Heaven, I have it,” cried I. “Let Murdoch +carry the news to Raasay that the Prince may get +away at once. Do you guard our prisoner here, +while I, dressed in his trews and bonnet, carry the +letter to the Duke. His answer may throw more light +on the matter.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_206' name='page_206'></a>206</span></p> +<p>Not to make long, so it was decided. We made +fashion to plaster up the envelope so as not to show a +casual looker that it had been tampered with, and I +footed it to Portree in the patched trews of the +messenger, not with the lightest heart in the world. +The first redcoat I met directed me to the inn where +the Duke had his headquarters, and I was presently +admitted to a hearing.</p> +<p>The Duke was a ton of a little man with the +phlegmatic Dutch face. He read the letter stolidly +and began to ask questions as to the disposition of our +squad. I lied generously, magnificently, my face +every whit as wooden as his; and while I was still at +it the door behind me opened and a man came in +leisurely. He waited for the Duke to have done with +me, softly humming a tune the while, his shadow +flung in front across my track; and while he lilted +there came to me a dreadful certainty that on +occasion I had heard the singer and his song before.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Then come kiss me sweet and twenty.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Youth’s a stuff will not endure,’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>carolled the melodious voice lazily. Need I say +that it belonged to my umquhile friend Sir Robert +Volney.</p> +<p>Cumberland brushed me aside with a wave of his +hand. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_207' name='page_207'></a>207</span></p> +<p>“Donner! If the Pretender is on Skye—and he +must be—we’ve got him trapped, Volney. Our +cordon stretches clear across the isle, and every outlet +is guarded,” he cried.</p> +<p>“Immensely glad to hear it, sir. Let’s see! Is +this the twelfth time you’ve had him sure? ’Pon +honour, he must have more lives than the proverbial +cat,” drawled Sir Robert insolently.</p> +<p>There was one thing about Volney I could never +enough admire. He was no respecter of persons. +Come high, come low, the bite of his ironic tongue +struck home. For a courtier he had the laziest scorn +of those he courted that ever adventurer was hampered +with; and strangely enough from him his friends in +high place tolerated anything. The Prince of Wales +and his brother Cumberland would not speak to each +other, yet each of them fought to retain Volney as +his follower. Time-servers wondered that his uncurbed +speech never brought him to grief. Perhaps +the secret of his security lay in his splendid careless +daring; in that, and in his winning personality.</p> +<p>“By God, Volney, sometimes I think you’re half a +Jacobite,” said Cumberland, frowning.</p> +<p>“Your Grace does me injustice. My bread is +buttered on the Brunswick side,” answered the baronet, +carelessly.</p> +<p>“But otherwise—at heart——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_208' name='page_208'></a>208</span></p> +<p>Volney’s sardonic smile came into play. “Otherwise +my well-known caution, and my approved loyalty,—Egad, +I had almost forgotten that!—refute +such an aspersion.”</p> +<p>“Himmel! If your loyalty is no greater than your +caution it may be counted out. At the least you take +delight in tormenting me. Never deny it, man! I +believe you want the Pretender to get away.”</p> +<p>“One may wish the Prince——”</p> +<p>“The Prince?” echoed Cumberland, blackly.</p> +<p>“The Young Chevalier then, if you like that better. +’Slife, what’s in a name? One may wish him to +escape and be guilty of no crime. He and his brave +Highlanders deserve a better fate than death. I dare +swear that half your redcoats have the sneaking desire +to see the young man win free out of the country. +Come, my good fellow”—turning to me—“What do +they call you—Campbell? Well then, Campbell, +speak truth and shame the devil. Are you as keen +to have the Young Chevalier taken as you pretend?”</p> +<p>Doggedly I turned my averted head toward him, +saw the recognition leap to his eyes, and waited for +the word to fall from his lips that would condemn me. +Amusement chased amazement across his face.</p> +<p>A moment passed, still another moment. The +word was not spoken. Instead he began to smile, +presently to hum, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_209' name='page_209'></a>209</span></p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘You’ll on an’ you’ll march to Carlisle ha’</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>To be hanged and quartered, an’ a’, an’ a’.’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“Come, Mont-Campbell, you haven’t answered my +question yet. If you knew where Charles Edward +Stuart was in hiding would you give him up?” He +looked at me from under lowered lids, vastly entertained, +playing with me as a cat does with a mouse.</p> +<p>“I am a fery good servant of the King, God bless +him whatefer, and I would just do my duty,” answered +I, still keeping the rôle I had assumed.</p> +<p>“Of course he would. Ach, liebe himmel! Any +loyal man would be bound to do so,” broke in Cumberland.</p> +<p>Volney’s eyes shone. “I’m not so sure,” said he. +“Now supposing, sir, that one had a very dear friend +among the rebels; given the chance, ought he to turn +him over to justice?”</p> +<p>“No doubt about it. Friendship ends when rebellion +begins,” said the Duke, sententiously.</p> +<p>Sir Robert continued blandly to argue the case, +looking at me out of the tail of his eye. Faith, he +enjoyed himself prodigiously, which was more than I +did, for I was tasting a bad quarter of an hour. “Put +it this way, sir: I have a friend who has done me +many good turns. Now assume that I have but to +speak the word to send him to his death. Should the +word be spoken?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_210' name='page_210'></a>210</span></p> +<p>The Duke said dogmatically that a soldier’s first +duty was to work for the success of his cause regardless +of private feelings.</p> +<p>“Or turn it this way,” continued Volney, “that the +man is not a friend. Suppose him a rival claimant to +an estate I mean to possess. Can I in honour give +him up? What would you think, Mont—er—Campbell?”</p> +<p>“Not Mont-Campbell, but Campbell,” I corrected. +“I will be thinking, sir, that it would be a matter for +your conscience, and at all events it iss fery lucky that +you do not hafe to decide it.”</p> +<p>“Still the case might arise. It’s always well to be +prepared,” he answered, laughing.</p> +<p>“Nonsense, Robert! What the deuce do you mean +by discussing such a matter with a Highland kerne? +I never saw your match for oddity,” said the Duke.</p> +<p>While he was still speaking there was a commotion +in the outer room of the inn. There sounded a rap at +the door, and on the echo of the knock an officer came +into the room to announce the capture of a suspect. +He was followed by the last man in the world I wanted +to see at that moment, no other than the Campbell +soldier whose place I was usurping. The fat was in +the fire with a vengeance now, and though I fell back +to the rear I knew it was but a question of time till his +eye lit on me. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_211' name='page_211'></a>211</span></p> +<p>The fellow began to tell his story, got nearly +through before his ferret eyes circled round to me, +then broke off to burst into a screed of the Gaelic as +he pointed a long finger at me.</p> +<p>The Duke flung round on me in a cold fury. “Is +this true, fellow?”</p> +<p>I came forward shrugging.</p> +<p>“To deny were folly when the evidence is writ so +plain,” I said.</p> +<p>“And who the devil are you?”</p> +<p>“Kenneth Montagu, at your service.”</p> +<p>Cumberland ordered the room cleared, then turned +on Volney a very grim face. “I’ll remember this, Sir +Robert. You knew him all the time. It has a bad +look, I make plain to say.”</p> +<p>“’Twas none of my business. Your troopers can +find enough victims for you without my pointing out +any. I take the liberty of reminding your Highness +that I’m not a hangman by profession,” returned +Volney stiffly.</p> +<p>“You go too far, sir,” answered the Duke haughtily. +“I know my duty too well to allow me to be deterred +from performing it by you or by anybody else. Mr. +Montagu, have you any reason to give why I should +not hang you for a spy?”</p> +<p>“No reason that would have any weight with your +Grace,” I answered. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_212' name='page_212'></a>212</span></p> +<p>He looked long at me, frowning blackly out of the +grimmest face I had ever fronted; and yet that countenance, +inexorable as fate, belonged to a young man +not four years past his majority.</p> +<p>“Without dubiety you deserve death,” he said at +the last, “but because of your youth I give you one +chance. Disclose to me the hiding-place of the Pretender +and you shall come alive out of the valley of +the shadow.”</p> +<p>A foretaste of the end clutched icily at my heart, +but the price of the proffered safety was too great. +Since I must die, I resolved that it should be with a +good grace.</p> +<p>“I do not know whom your Grace can mean by the +Pretender.”</p> +<p>His heavy jaw set and his face grew cold and hard +as steel.</p> +<p>“You fool, do you think to bandy words with me? +You will speak or by heaven you will die the death +of a traitor.”</p> +<p>“I need not fear to follow where so many of my brave +comrades have shown the way,” I answered steadily.</p> +<p>“Bah! You deal in heroics. Believe me, this is no +time for theatricals. Out with it. When did you last +see Charles Stuart?”</p> +<p>“I can find no honourable answer to that question, +sir.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_213' name='page_213'></a>213</span></p> +<p>“Then your blood be on your own head, fool. +You die to-morrow morning by the cord.”</p> +<p>“As God wills; perhaps to-morrow, perhaps not for +fifty years.”</p> +<p>While I was being led out another prisoner passed +in on his way to judgment. The man was Captain +Roy Macdonald.</p> +<p>“I’m wae to see you here, lad, and me the cause of +it by sending you,” he said, smiling sadly.</p> +<p>“How came they to take you?” I asked.</p> +<p>“I was surprised on the beach just after Murdoch +left,” he told me in the Gaelic so that the English +troopers might not understand. “All should be well +with the yellow haired laddie now that the warning +has been given. Are you for Carlisle, Kenneth?”</p> +<p>I shook my head. “No, my time is set for to-morrow. +If they give you longer you’ll find a way to +send word to Aileen how it went with me, Donald?”</p> +<p>He nodded, and we gripped hands in silence, our +eyes meeting steadily. From his serene courage I +gathered strength.</p> +<p>They took me to a bothy in the village which had +been set apart as a prison for me, and here, a picket of +soldiers with loaded muskets surrounding the hut, they +left me to myself. I had asked for paper and ink, but +my request had been refused.</p> +<p>In books I have read how men under such circumstance +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_214' name='page_214'></a>214</span> +came quietly to philosophic and religious contemplation, +looking at the issue with the far-seeing +eyes of those who count death but an incident. But +for me, I am neither philosopher nor saint. Connected +thought I found impossible. My mind was +alive with fleeting and chaotic fragmentary impulses. +Memories connected with Cloe, Charles, Balmerino, +and a hundred others occupied me. Trivial forgotten +happenings flashed through my brain. All the different +Aileens that I knew trooped past in procession. +Gay and sad, wistful and merry, eager and reflective, +in passion and in tender guise, I saw my love in all +her moods; and melted always at the vision of her.</p> +<p>I descended to self-pity, conceiving myself a hero +and a martyr, revelling in an agony of mawkish sentiment +concerning the post-mortem grief of my friends. +From this at length I snatched myself by calling to +mind the many simple Highlanders who had preceded +me in the past months without any morbid craving for +applause. Back harked my mind to Aileen, imagination +spanning the future as well as the past. Tender +pity and love suffused me. Mingled with all my +broken reflections was many a cry of the heart for +mercy to a sinner about to render his last account and +for healing balm to that dear friend who would be left +to mourn the memory of me painted in radiant colours. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_215' name='page_215'></a>215</span></p> +<p>Paradoxical though it may seem, the leaden hours +flew on feathered foot. Dusk fell, then shortly darkness. +Night deepened, and the stars came out. +From the window I watched the moon rise till it +flooded the room with its pale light, my mind at last +fallen into the sombre quiet of deep abstraction.</p> +<p>A mocking voice brought me to earth with a start.</p> +<p>“Romantic spectacle! A world bathed in moonlight. +Do you compose verses to your love’s bright +eyes, Mr. Montagu? Or perhaps an epitaph for +some close friend?”</p> +<p>An elegant figure in dark cloak, riding boots, and +three-cornered hat confronted me, when I slowly +turned.</p> +<p>“Hope I don’t intrude,” he said jauntily.</p> +<p>I gave him a plain hint. “Sir Robert, like Lord +Chesterfield, when he was so ill last year, if I do not +press you to remain it is because I must rehearse my +funeral obsequies.”</p> +<p>His laugh rang merrily. Coming forward a step or +two, he flung a leg across the back of a chair.</p> +<p>“Egad, you’re not very hospitable, my friend. Or +isn’t this your evening at home?” he fleered.</p> +<p>I watched him narrowly, answering nothing.</p> +<p>“Cozy quarters,” he said, looking round with polite +interest. “May I ask whether you have taken them +for long?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_216' name='page_216'></a>216</span></p> +<p>“The object of your visit, sir,” I demanded coldly.</p> +<p>“There you gravel me,” he laughed. “I wish I +knew the motives for my visit. They are perhaps a +blend—some pique, some spite, some curiosity, and +faith! a little admiration, Mr. Montagu.”</p> +<p>“All of which being presumably now satisfied——”</p> +<p>“But they’re not, man! Far from it. And so I +accept the courteous invitation you were about to extend +me to prolong my call and join you in a glass of +wine.”</p> +<p>Seeing that he was determined to remain willy-nilly, +I made the best of it.</p> +<p>“You have interpreted my sentiments exactly, Sir +Robert,” I told him. “But I fear the wine will have to +be postponed till another meeting. My cellar is not +well stocked.”</p> +<p>He drew a flask from his pocket, found glasses on +the table, and filled them.</p> +<p>“Then let me thus far play host, Mr. Montagu. +Come, I give you a toast!” He held the glass to the +light and viewed the wine critically. “’T is a devilish +good vintage, though I say it myself. Montagu, may +you always find a safe port in time of storm!” he said +with jesting face, but with a certain undercurrent of +meaning that began to set my blood pounding.</p> +<p>But though I took a glimmer of the man’s purpose +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_217' name='page_217'></a>217</span> +I would not meet him half-way. If he had any +proposal to make the advances must come from him. +Nor would I allow myself to hope too much.</p> +<p>“I’ faith, ’tis a good port,” I said, and eyed the +wine no less judicially than he.</p> +<p>Volney’s gaze loitered deliberately over the cottage +furnishings. “Cozy enough, but after all not quite to +my liking, if I may make so bold as to criticise your +apartments. I wonder now you don’t make a +change.”</p> +<p>“I’m thinking of moving to-morrow,” I told him +composedly. “To a less roomy apartment, but one +just as snug.”</p> +<p>“Shall you live there permanently?” he asked with +innocent face.</p> +<p>“I shall stay there permanently,” I corrected.</p> +<p>Despite my apparent unconcern I was playing +desperately for my life. That Volney was dallying +with some plan of escape for me I became more confident, +and I knew from experience that nothing +would touch the man on his weak side so surely as an +imperturbable manner.</p> +<p>“I mentioned pique and spite, Mr. Montagu, and +you did not take my meaning. Believe me, not +against you, but against that oaf Cumberland,” he +said.</p> +<p>“And what may your presence here have to do +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_218' name='page_218'></a>218</span> +with your pique against the Duke? I confess that +the connection is not plain to me,” I said in careless +fashion.</p> +<p>“After you left to-day, Mr. Montagu, I humbled +myself to ask a favour of the Dutchman—the first I +ever asked, and I have done him many. He refused +it and turned his back on me.”</p> +<p>“The favour was——?”</p> +<p>“That you might be taken to London for trial and +executed there.”</p> +<p>I looked up as if surprised. “And why this interest +on my behalf, Sir Robert?”</p> +<p>He shrugged. “I do not know—a fancy—a +whim. George Selwyn would never forgive me if I +let you be hanged and he not there to see.”</p> +<p>“Had you succeeded Selwyn would have had you +to thank for a pleasant diversion, but I think you remarked +that the Dutchman was obstinate. ’Tis a pity—for +Selwyn’s sake.”</p> +<p>“Besides, I had another reason. You and I had set +ourselves to play out a certain game in which I took +an interest. Now I do not allow any blundering +foreigners to interfere with my amusements.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you mean you do not like the foreigner +to anticipate you.”</p> +<p>“By God, I do not allow him to when I can prevent +it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_219' name='page_219'></a>219</span></p> +<p>“But as in this instance you cannot prevent it——” +My sentence tailed into a yawn.</p> +<p>“That remains to be seen,” he retorted, and +whipped off first one boot and then the other. The +unfastened cloak fell to the floor, and he began to unloose +his doublet.</p> +<p>I stared calmly, though my heart stood still.</p> +<p>“Really, Sir Robert! Are you going to stay all +night? I fear my accommodations are more +limited than those to which you have been accustomed.”</p> +<p>“Don’t stand gaping there, Montagu. Get off +those uncivilized rags of yours and slip on these. +You’re going out as Sir Robert Volney.”</p> +<p>“I am desolated to interfere with your revenge, but—the +guards?”</p> +<p>“Fuddled with drink,” he said. “I took care of +that. Don’t waste time asking questions.”</p> +<p>“The Duke will be in a fearful rage with you.”</p> +<p>His eyes grew hard. “Am I a child that I should +tremble when Cumberland frowns?”</p> +<p>“He’ll make you pay for this.”</p> +<p>“A fig for the payment!”</p> +<p>“You’ll lose favour.”</p> +<p>“I’ll teach the sullen beast to refuse me one. The +boots next.”</p> +<p>He put on the wig and hat for me, arranged the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_220' name='page_220'></a>220</span> +muffler over the lower part of my face, and fastened +the cloak.</p> +<p>“The watchword for the night is ‘Culloden.’ You +should have no trouble in passing. I needn’t tell you +to be bold,” he finished dryly.</p> +<p>“I’ll not forget this,” I told him.</p> +<p>“That’s as you please,” he answered carelessly. +“I ask no gratitude. I’m settling a debt, +or rather two—one due Cumberland and the other +you.”</p> +<p>“Still, I’ll remember.”</p> +<p>“Oh, all right. Hope we’ll have the pleasure of +renewing our little game some day. Better take to +the hills or the water. You’ll find the roads strictly +guarded. Don’t let yourself get killed, my friend. +The pleasure of running you through I reserve for +myself.”</p> +<p>I passed out of the hut into the night. The +troopers who guarded the bothy were in either the +stupid or the uproarious stage of their drink. Two of +them sang a catch of a song, and I wondered that they +had not already brought down on them the officer of +the day. I passed them carelessly with a nod. One +of them bawled out, “The watchword!” and I gave +them “Culloden.” Toward the skirts of the village I +sauntered, fear dogging my footsteps; and when I was +once clear of the houses, cut across a meadow toward +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_221' name='page_221'></a>221</span> +the shore, wary as a panther, eyes and ears alert for +signals of danger. Without mishap I reached the +sound, beat my way up the sand links for a mile or +more, and saw a boat cruising in the moonlight off +shore. I gave the whaup’s cry, and across the water +came an answer.</p> +<p>Five minutes later I was helping the gillie in the +boat pull across to Raasay. When half way over we +rested on our oars for a breathing space and I asked +the news, the rug-headed kerne shot me with the dismal +tidings that Malcolm Macleod and Creagh, rowing +to Skyes for a conference with Captain Roy, had +fallen into the hands of the troopers waiting for +them among the sand dunes. He had but one bit +of comfort in his budget, and that was “ta yellow-haired +Sassenach body wass leaving this morning +with Raasay hersel’ and Murdoch.” At least I +had some assurance that my undertaking had secured +the safety of the Prince, even though three staunch +men were on their way to their death by reason +of it.</p> +<p>Once landed on Raasay, I made up the brae to the +great house. Lights were still burning, and when I +got close ’twas easy to be seen that terror and confusion +filled it. Whimpering, white-faced women and +wailing bairns ran hither and thither blindly. Somewhere +in the back part of the house the bagpipes were +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_222' name='page_222'></a>222</span> +soughing a dismal kind of dirge. Fierce-eyed men +with mops of shock hair were gathered into groups of +cursing clansmen. Through them all I pushed my +way in to Aileen.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIII_THE_LITTLE_GOD_HAS_AN_INNINGS' id='XIII_THE_LITTLE_GOD_HAS_AN_INNINGS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_223' name='page_223'></a>223</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<h3>THE LITTLE GOD HAS AN INNINGS</h3> +</div> + +<p>By the great fireplace she stood, hands clasped, +head upturned as in prayer. The lips moved +silently in the petition of her heart. I saw in +profile a girl’s troubled face charged with mystery, a +slim, tall, weary figure all in white against the flame, a +cheek’s pure oval, the tense curve of a proud neck, a +mass of severely snodded russet hair. So I recalled +her afterward, picture of desolation seeking comfort, +but at the moment when I blundered on her my +presence seemed profanity and no time was found for +appraisement. Abashed I came to a halt, and was for +tiptoeing back to the door; but hearing me she +turned.</p> +<p>“Kenneth!” she cried, and stood with parted lips. +Then, “They told me——”</p> +<p>“That I was taken. True, but I escaped. How, I +will tell you later. The Prince— Is he safe?”</p> +<p>“For the present, yes. A lugger put in this morning +belonging to some smugglers. In it he sailed for +the mainland with Ronald and Murdoch. You will +have heard the bad news,” she cried. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_224' name='page_224'></a>224</span></p> +<p>“That Malcolm, Creagh, and Donald are taken?”</p> +<p>“And Flora, too. She iss to be sent to London for +assisting in the escape of the Prince. And so are the +others.”</p> +<p>I fell silent, deep in thought, and shortly came to a +resolution.</p> +<p>“Aileen, the Highlands are no place for me. I am +a stranger here. Every clachan in which I am seen +is full of danger for me. To-morrow I am for +London.”</p> +<p>“To save Malcolm,” she cried.</p> +<p>“If I can. Raasay cannot go. He must stay +to protect his clansmen. Murdoch is a fugitive and +his speech would betray him in an hour. Remains +only I.”</p> +<p>“And I.”</p> +<p>“You?”</p> +<p>“Why not? After ‘the ’15’ women’s tears saved +many a life. And I too have friends. Sir Robert +Volney, evil man as he iss, would move heaven and +earth to save my brother.”</p> +<p>There was much truth in what she said. In these +days of many executions a pardon was to be secured +less by merit than by the massing of influence, and I +knew of no more potent influence than a beautiful +woman in tears. Together we might be able to do +something for our friends. But there was the long +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_225' name='page_225'></a>225</span> +journey through a hostile country to be thought of, +and the probability that we might never reach our +destination in freedom. I could not tell the blessed +child that her presence would increase threefold my +chances of being taken, nor indeed was that a thing +that held weight with me. Sure, there was her reputation +to be considered, but the company of a maid +would obviate that difficulty.</p> +<p>Ronald returned next day, and I laid the matter +before him. He was extraordinarily loath to let +Aileen peril herself, but on the other hand he could +not let Malcolm suffer the penalty of the law without +making an effort on his behalf. Raasay was tied +hand and foot by the suspicions of the government +and was forced to consent to leave the matter in our +hands. He made only the one stipulation, that we +should go by way of Edinburgh and take his Aunt +Miss MacBean with us as chaperone.</p> +<p>We embarked on the smuggler next day for the +Long Island and were landed at Stornoway. After a +dreary wait of over a week at this place we took shipping +on a brig bound for Edinburgh. Along the +north coast of Scotland, through the Pentland Firth, +and down the east shore <i>The Lewis</i> scudded. It +seemed that we were destined to have an uneventful +voyage till one day we sighted a revenue cutter which +gave chase. As we had on board <i>The Lewis</i> a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_226' name='page_226'></a>226</span> +cargo of illicit rum, the brig being in the contraband +trade, there was nothing for it but an incontinent +flight. For some hours our fate hung in the balance, +but night coming on we slipped away in the darkness. +The Captain, however, being an exceedingly timid +man for one in his position, refused absolutely to put +into the Leith Road lest his retreat should be cut off. +Instead he landed us near Wemyss Castle, some distance +up the coast, and what was worse hours before +the dawn had cleared and in a pelting rain.</p> +<p>I wrapped Volney’s cloak around Aileen and we took +the southward road, hoping to come on some village +where we might find shelter. The situation might be +thought one of extreme discomfort. There were we +three—Aileen, her maid, and I—sloshing along the +running road in black darkness with the dreary +splashing of the rain to emphasize our forlorn condition. +Over unknown paths we travelled on precarious +errand. Yet I for one never took a journey that +pleased me more. The mirk night shut out all others, +and a fair face framed in a tartan shawl made my +whole world for me. A note of tenderness not to be +defined crept into our relationship. There was a +sweet disorder in her hair and more than once the +wind whaffed it into my face. In walking our fingers +touched once and again; greatly daring, mine slipped +over hers, and so like children we went hand in hand. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_227' name='page_227'></a>227</span> +An old romancer tells quaintly in one of his tales +how Love made himself of the party, and so it was +with us that night. I found my answer at last without +words. While the heavens wept our hearts sang. +The wine of love ran through me in exquisite thrills. +Every simple word she spoke went to my heart like +sweetest music, and every unconscious touch of her +hand was a caress.</p> +<p>“Tired, Aileen?” I asked. “There is my arm to +lean on.”</p> +<p>“No,” she said, but presently her ringers rested on +my sleeve.</p> +<p>“’T will be daylight soon, and see! the scudding +clouds are driving away the rain.”</p> +<p>“Yes, Kenneth,” she answered, and sighed softly.</p> +<p>“You will think I am a sad blunderer to bring you +tramping through the night.”</p> +<p>“I will be thinking you are the good friend.”</p> +<p>Too soon the grey dawn broke, for at the first +glimmer my love disengaged herself from my arm. I +looked shyly at her, and the glory of her young +beauty filled me. Into her cheeks the raw morning +wind had whipped the red, had flushed her like a +radiant Diana. The fresh breeze had outlined her +figure clear as she struggled against it, and the billowing +sail was not more graceful than her harmonious +lines. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_228' name='page_228'></a>228</span></p> +<p>Out of the sea the sun rose a great ball of flaming +fire.</p> +<p>“A good omen for the success of our journey,” I +cried. “Look!</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“The good God grant it prove so, Kenneth, for +Malcolm and for all our friends.”</p> +<p>After all youth has its day and will not be denied. +We were on an anxious undertaking of more than +doubtful outcome, but save when we remembered to +be sober we trod the primrose path.</p> +<p>We presently came to a small village where we had +breakfast at the inn. For long we had eaten nothing +but the musty fare of the brig, and I shall never forget +with what merry daffing we enjoyed the crisp +oaten cake, the buttered scones, the marmalade, and +the ham and eggs. After we had eaten Aileen went +to her room to snatch some hours sleep while I +made arrangements for a cart to convey us on our +way.</p> +<p>A wimpling burn ran past the end of the inn +garden, and here on a rustic bench I found my comrade +when I sought her some hours later. The sun +was shining on her russet-hair. Her chin was in her +hands, her eyes on the gurgling brook. The memories +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_229' name='page_229'></a>229</span> +of the night must still have been thrilling her, +for she was singing softly that most exquisite of love +songs “Annie Laurie.”</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Maxwelton’s braes are bonnie,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Where early fa’s the dew,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Where me and Annie Laurie</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Made up the promise true.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>Her voice trembled a little, and I took up the song.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Made up the promise true,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>And ne’er forget will I;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And for bonnie Annie Laurie</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>I’d lay me doun and dee.’”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>At my first words she gave a little start, her lips +parted, her head came up prettily to attention, and +though I could not see them I was ready to vow that +she listened with shining eyes. Softly her breath +came and went. I trod nearer as I sang.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Her brow is like the snaw-drift,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Her throat is like the swan,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>She’s jimp about the middle,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>Her waist ye weel micht span.’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“Oh, Aileen, if I might—if I only had the right! +Won’t you give it me, dear heart?”</p> +<p>In the long silence my pulse stopped, then throbbed +like an aching tooth.</p> +<p>“I’m waiting, Aileen. It is to be yes or no?”</p> +<p>The shy blue eyes met mine for an instant before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_230' name='page_230'></a>230</span> +they fluttered groundward. I could scarce make out +the low sweet music of her voice.</p> +<p>“Oh, Kenneth, not now! You forget—my brother +Malcolm——”</p> +<p>“I forget everything but this, that I love you.”</p> +<p>In her cheeks was being fought the war of the +roses, with Lancaster victorious. The long-lashed +eyes came up to meet mine bravely, love lucent in +them. Our glances married; in those clear Highland +lochs of hers I was sunk fathoms deep.</p> +<p>“Truly, Kenneth?”</p> +<p>“From the head to the heel of you, Aileen, lass. +For you I would die, and that is all there is about it,” +I cried, wildly.</p> +<p>“Well then, take me, Kenneth! I am all yours. +Of telling love there will be many ways in the Gaelic, +and I am thinking them all at once.”</p> +<p>And this is the plain story of how the great happiness +came into Kenneth Montagu’s life, and how, +though all unworthy, he won for his own the daughter +of Raasay.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XIV_THE_AFTERMATH' id='XIV_THE_AFTERMATH'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_231' name='page_231'></a>231</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<h3>THE AFTERMATH</h3> +</div> + +<p>At Edinburgh we received check one. Aileen’s +aunt had left for the Highlands the week before +in a fine rage because the Duke of Cumberland, +who had foisted himself upon her unwilling +hospitality, had eaten her out of house and home, +then departing had borne away with him her cherished +household <i>penates</i> to the value of some hundred +pounds. Years later Major Wolfe told me with +twinkling eyes the story of how the fiery little lady +came to him with her tale of woe. If she did not go +straight to the dour Duke it was because he was already +out of the city and beyond her reach. Into +Wolfe’s quarters she bounced, rage and suspicion +speaking eloquent in her manner.</p> +<p>“Hech, sir! Where have ye that Dutch Prince of +yours?” she demanded of Wolfe, her keen eyes ranging +over him.</p> +<p>“’Pon honour, madam, I have not him secreted on +my person,” returned the Major, gravely turning inside +out his pockets for her.</p> +<p>The spirited old lady glowered at him. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_232' name='page_232'></a>232</span></p> +<p>“It’s ill setting ye to be sae humoursome,” she told +him frankly. “It wad be better telling ye to answer +ceevilly a ceevil question, my birkie.”</p> +<p>“If I can be of any service, madam——”</p> +<p>“Humph, service! And that’s just it, my mannie. +The ill-faured tykes hae rampaigned through the +house and taen awa’ my bonnie silver tea service that +I hae scoured every Monday morning for thirty-seven +years come Michelmas, forby the fine Holland linen +that my father, guid carefu’ man, brought frae the +continent his nainsel.”</p> +<p>“I am sorry——”</p> +<p>“Sorry! Hear till him,” she snorted. “Muckle +guid your sorrow will do me unless——” her voice +fell to a wheedling cajolery—“you just be a guid +laddie and get me back my linen and the silver.”</p> +<p>“The Duke has a partiality for fine bed linen, and +quaint silver devices are almost a mania with him. +Perhaps some of your other possessions”—</p> +<p>“His Dutch officers ate me out of house and home. +They took awa’ eight sacks of the best lump sugar.”</p> +<p>“The army is in need of sugar. I fear it is not recoverable.”</p> +<p>Miss MacBean had a way of affecting deafness when +the occasion suited her.</p> +<p>“Eih, sir! Were you saying you wad see it was +recovered? And my silver set wi’ twenty solid teaspoons, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_233' name='page_233'></a>233</span> +forby the linen?” she asked anxiously, her +hand to her ear.</p> +<p>Wolfe smiled.</p> +<p>“I fear the Duke——”</p> +<p>“Ou ay, I ken fine you fear him. He’s gurly +enough, Guid kens.”</p> +<p>“I was about to say, madam, that I fear the Duke +will regard them as spoils from the enemy not to be +given up.”</p> +<p>The Major was right. Miss MacBean might as well +have saved her breath to cool her porridge, for the +Duke carried her possessions to London despite her +remonstrances. Five years later as I was passing by +a pawnbroker’s shop on a mean street in London Miss +MacBean’s teapot with its curious device of a winged +dragon for a spout caught my eye in the window. +The shopkeeper told me that it had been sold him by +a woman of the demi-monde who had formerly been +a mistress of the Duke of Cumberland. She said that +it was a present from his Royal Highness, who had +taken the silver service from the house of a fiery rebel +lady in the north.</p> +<p>Our stay in the Scottish capital was of the shortest. +In the early morning we went knocking at the door +of Miss MacBean’s house. All day I kept under +cover and in the darkness of night we slipped out of +the city southwest bound. Of that journey, its +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_234' name='page_234'></a>234</span> +sweet comradeship, its shy confidences, its perpetual +surprises for each of us in discovering the other, I +have no time nor mind to tell. The very danger +which was never absent from our travel drew us into a +closer friendliness. Was there an option between two +roads, or the question of the desirability of putting up +at a certain inn, our heads came together to discuss it. +Her pretty confidence in me was touching in the extreme. +To have her hold me a Captain Greatheart +made my soul glad, even though I knew my measure +did not fit the specifications by a mile. Her trust in +me was less an incense to my vanity than a spur to +my manhood.</p> +<p>The mere joy of living flooded my blood with happiness +in those days. I vow it made me a better man +to breathe the same air as she, to hear the lilt of her +merry laugh and the low music of her sweet voice. +Not a curve in that dimpled cheek I did not love; not +a ripple in the russet hair my hungry eyes had not +approved. When her shy glance fell on me I rode in +the sunshine of bluest sky. If by chance her hand +touched mine, my veins leaped with the wine of it. +Of such does the happiness of youth consist.</p> +<p>’Tis strange how greedy love is in its early days of +the past from which it has been excluded, how jealous +sometimes of the point of contact with other lives in +the unknown years which have gone to make up +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_235' name='page_235'></a>235</span> +the rungs of the ladder of life. I was never tired of +hearing of her childhood on the braes of Raasay: +how she guddled for mountain trout in the burn with +her brother Murdoch or hung around his neck chains +of daisies in childish glee. And she— Faith, she +drew me out with shy questions till that part of my +life which would bear telling must have been to her a +book learned by rote.</p> +<p>Yet there were times when we came near to misunderstanding +of each other. The dear child had +been brought up in a houseful of men, her mother +having died while she was yet an infant, and she was +in some ways still innocent as a babe. The circumstances +of our journey put her so much in my power +that I, not to take advantage of the situation, sometimes +held myself with undue stiffness toward her +when my every impulse was to tenderness. Perhaps +it might be that we rode through woodland in the +falling dusk while the nesting birds sang madrigals of +love. Longing with all my heart to touch but the hem +of her gown, I would yet ride with a wooden face set +to the front immovably, deaf to her indirect little appeals +for friendliness. Presently, ashamed of my +gruffness, I would yield to the sweetness of her +charm, good resolutions windwood scattered, and woo +her with a lover’s ardour till the wild-rose deepened in +her cheek. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_236' name='page_236'></a>236</span></p> +<p>“Were you ever in love before, Kennie?” she +asked me once, twisting at a button of my coat. We +were drawing near Manchester and had let the +postillion drive on with the coach, while we loitered +hand in hand through the forest of Arden. The +azure sky was not more blue than the eyes which +lifted shyly to mine, nor the twinkling stars which +would soon gaze down on us one half so bright.</p> +<p>I laughed happily. “Once—in a boy’s way—a +thousand years ago.”</p> +<p>“And were you caring for her—much?”</p> +<p>“Oh, vastly.”</p> +<p>“And she—wass she loving you too?”</p> +<p>“More than tongue could tell, she made me believe.”</p> +<p>“Oh, I am not wondering at that,” said my heart’s +desire. “Of course she would be loving you.”</p> +<p>’Twas Aileen’s way to say the thing she thought, +directly, in headlong Highland fashion. Of finesse +she used none. She loved me (oh, a thousand times +more than I deserved!) and that was all there was +about it. To be ashamed of her love or to hide it +never, I think, occurred to her. What more natural +then than that others should think of me as she did?</p> +<p>“Of course,” I said dryly. “But in the end my +sweetheart, plighted to me for all eternity, had to +choose betwixt her lover and something she had +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_237' name='page_237'></a>237</span> +which he much desired. She sighed, deliberated long—full +five seconds I vow—and in end played traitor +to love. She was desolated to lose me, but the +alternative was not to be endured. She sacrificed me +for a raspberry tart. So was shattered young love’s +first dream. ’Tis my only consolation that I snatched +the tart and eat it as I ran. Thus Phyllis lost both her +lover and her portion. Ah, those brave golden days! +The world, an unexplored wonder, lay at my feet. +She was seven, I was nine.”</p> +<p>“Oh.” There was an odd little note of relief in the +velvet voice that seemed to reproach me for a brute. +I was forever forgetting that the ways of ’Toinette +Westerleigh were not the ways of Aileen Macleod.</p> +<p>The dying sun flooded the topmost branches of the +forest foliage. My eyes came round to the aureole +which was their usual magnet.</p> +<p>“When the sun catches it ’tis shot with glints of +gold.”</p> +<p>“It is indeed very beautiful.”</p> +<p>“In cloudy weather ’tis a burnished bronze.”</p> +<p>She looked at me in surprise.</p> +<p>“Bronze! Surely you are meaning green?”</p> +<p>“Not I, bronze. Again you might swear it +russet.”</p> +<p>“That will be in the autumn when they are turning +colour just before the fall.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_238' name='page_238'></a>238</span></p> +<p>“No, that is when you have it neatly snodded and +the firelight plays about your head.”</p> +<p>She laughed, flushing. “You will be forever at +your foolishness, Kenn. I thought you meant the +tree tips.”</p> +<p>“Is the truth foolishness?”</p> +<p>“You are a lover, Kennie. Other folks don’t see +that when they look at me.”</p> +<p>“Other folks are blind,” I maintained, stoutly.</p> +<p>“If you see all that I will be sure that what they say +is true and love is blind.”</p> +<p>“The wise man is the lover. He sees clear for the +first time in his life. The sun shines for him—and +her. For them the birds sing and the flowers bloom. +For them the world was made. They——”</p> +<p>“Whiles talk blethers,” she laughed.</p> +<p>“Yes, they do,” I admitted. “And there again is +another sign of wisdom. Your ponderous fool talks +pompous sense always. He sees life in only one +facet. Your lover sees its many sides, its infinite +variety. He can laugh and weep; his imagination +lights up dry facts with whimsical fancies; he dives +through the crust of conventionality to the realities of +life. ’Tis the lover keeps this old world young. The +fire of youth, of eternal laughing youth, runs flaming +through his blood. His days are radiant, his nights +enchanted.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_239' name='page_239'></a>239</span></p> +<p>“I am thinking you quite a poet.”</p> +<p>“Was there ever a better subject for a poem? +Life would be poetry writ into action if all men were +lovers—and all women Aileens.”</p> +<p>“Ah, Kenneth! This fine talk I do not understand. +It’s sheer nonsense to tell such idle clavers +about me. Am I not just a plain Highland lassie, as +unskilled in flattering speeches as in furbelows and +patches? Gin you will play me a spring on the pipes +I’ll maybe can dance you the fling, but of French +minuets I have small skill.”</p> +<p>“Call me dreamer if you will. By Helen’s glove, +your dreamer might be the envy of kings. Since I +have known you life has taken a different hue. One +lives for years without joy, pain, colour, all things +toned to the dull monochrome of gray, and then one +day the contact with another soul quickens one to +renewed life, to more eager unselfish living. Never so +bright a sun before, never so beautiful a moon. ’Tis +true, Aileen. No fear but one, that Fate, jealous, may +snatch my love from me.”</p> +<p>Her laughter dashed my heroics; yet I felt, too, +that back of her smiles there was belief.</p> +<p>“I dare say. At the least I will have heard it before. +The voice iss Jacob’s voice, but——”</p> +<p>I blushed, remembering too late that my text and +its application were both Volney’s. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_240' name='page_240'></a>240</span></p> +<p>“’Tis true, even if Jacob said it first. If a man is +worth his salt love must purify him. Sure it must. I +am a better man for knowing you.”</p> +<p>A shy wonder filled her eyes; thankfulness too was +there.</p> +<p>“Yet you are a man that has fought battles and +known life, and I am only an ignorant girl.”</p> +<p>I lifted her hand and kissed it.</p> +<p>“You are my queen, and I am your most loyal and +devoted servant.”</p> +<p>“For always, Kenn? When you are meeting the +fine ladies of London will you love a Highland lassie +that cannot make eyes and swear choicely?”</p> +<p>“Forever and a day, dear.”</p> +<p>Aileen referred to the subject again two hours later +when we arose from the table at the Manchester +ordinary. It was her usual custom to retire to her +room immediately after eating. To-night when I +escorted her to the door she stood for a moment drawing +patterns on the lintel with her fan. A fine blush +touched her cheek.</p> +<p>“Were you meaning all that, Kennie?”</p> +<p>“All what, dear heart?”</p> +<p>“That—nonsense—in the forest.”</p> +<p>“Every bit of it.”</p> +<p>Her fan spelt Kenneth on the door.</p> +<p>“Sometimes,” she went on softly, “a fancy is built +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_241' name='page_241'></a>241</span> +on moonlight and laughing eyes and opportunity. It +iss like sunshine in winter on Raasay—just for an hour +and then the mists fall.”</p> +<p>“For our love there will be no mists.”</p> +<p>“Ah, Kenn, you think so now, but afterward, when +you take up again your London life, and I cannot play +the lady of fashion, when you weary of my simpleness +and are wishing me back among the purple heather +hills?”</p> +<p>“That will be never, unless I wish myself there with +you. I am no London Mohawk like Volney. To +tramp the heather after muircocks or to ride to hounds +is more my fancy. The Macaronis and I came long +since to the parting of the ways. I am for a snug +home in the country with the woman I love.”</p> +<p>I stepped to the table, filled a glass with wine, and +brought it to her.</p> +<p>“Come, love! We will drink together. How is it +old Ben Jonson hath it?</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Drink to me only with thine eyes,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And I will pledge with mine;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Or leave a kiss but in the cup,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>And I’ll not look for wine.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>The thirst that from the soul doth rise</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Doth seek a drink divine;</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>But might I of Jove’s nectar sup</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>I would not change from thine.’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>“Drink, sweetheart.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_242' name='page_242'></a>242</span></p> +<p>She tasted, then I drained the glass and let it fall +from my fingers to shiver on the floor.</p> +<p>Before we parted Aileen had one more word for me, +“Kennie.”</p> +<p>“Yes, dear heart,” I cried, and was back at her side +in a moment.</p> +<p>“What you said in the woods—I am knowing it all +true. It is great foolishness, but my heart is singing +the same song,” and with that she whipped the door to +in my face.</p> +<p>I sauntered into the common room, found a +seat by the fireplace, and let my eye wander over +the company. There were present some half dozen +yokels, the vicar’s curate, a country blood or two, +and a little withered runt of a man in fustian +with a weazened face like a wrinkled pippin. The +moment I clapped eyes on him there came to my +mind the dim recollection of a former acquaintance +and the prescient fear of an impending danger. That +I had seen him I was ready to take oath, yet I could +not put my finger upon the circumstances. But the +worst of it was that the old fellow recognized me, +unless I were much mistaken, for his eyes never left +me from the first.</p> +<p>From my mother I have inherited a Highland +jauntiness which comes stealing over me when sobriety +would set me better. Let the situation be a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_243' name='page_243'></a>243</span> +different one, uncertain of solution, with heads tipping +in the balance, and an absurd spirit of recklessness +straightway possesses me. But now, with this dear +child on my hands, carelessness and I were far apart +as the poles. Anxiety gripped me, and I sweated +blood. Yet I must play the careless traveller, be full +of good stories, unperturbed on the surface and apparently +far from alarm. I began to overdo the part, +recognized the fact, and grew savage at myself. Trying +to conciliate him, I was free with the ale, and +again overdid it.</p> +<p>He drank my ale and listened to my stories, but he +sat cocking on his seat like an imp of mischief. I +rattled on, insouciant and careless to all appearances, +but in reality my heart like lead. Behind my smiling +lips I cursed him up hill and down dale. Lard, his +malicious grin was a thing to rile the gods! More +than once I wake up in the night from dreaming that +his scrawny hand was clapping the darbies on my +wrists.</p> +<p>When we were ready to start next morning the +post boy let me know that one of the horses had gone +lame. Here was a pretty pickle. I pished and +pshawed, but in the end had to scour the town to find +another in its place. ’Twas well on toward noon +when the boy and I returned to the ordinary with a +nag that would serve. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_244' name='page_244'></a>244</span></p> +<p>Of other lovers I have scant knowledge, but the +one I know was wont to cherish the memory of things +his love had said and how she had said them; with +what a pretty tilt to her chin, with what a daring shyness +of the eyes, with what a fine colour and impetuous +audacity she had done this or looked that. He +was wont in advance to plan out conversations, to decide +that he would tell her some odd brain fancy and +watch her while he told it. Many an hour he spent +in the fairy land of imagination; many a one he +dreamed away in love castles built of fancied rambles +in enchanted woods, of sweet talks in which he always +said and did the right thing; destined alas! +never to pass from mind to speech, for if ever tongue +essayed the telling it faltered some fatuous abortion as +little like love’s dream as Caliban resembled Ariel. +Fresh from the brave world of day-dreams, still smiling +happily from some whimsical conceit as well as +with anticipation of Aileen’s gladness at sight of me, I +passed through the courtyard and into the ordinary.</p> +<p>A hubbub at the foot of the stairway attracted me. +A gaping crowd was gathered there about three central +figures. My weasened pippin-face of the malicious +grin was one of them; a broad-shouldered, +fair-faced and very much embarrassed young officer in +the King’s uniform stood beside him; and from the +stairway some three steps up Aileen, plainly frightened, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_245' name='page_245'></a>245</span> +fronted them and answered questions in her +broken English.</p> +<p>“I am desolated to distress you, madam,” the boy +officer was saying, “but this man has laid an information +with me that there is a rebel in your party, one +who was in Manchester with the Pretender’s force +some months since. It will be necessary that I have +speech with him.”</p> +<p>“There iss no rebel with me, sir. The gentleman +with whom I travel iss of most approved loyalty,” she +faltered.</p> +<p>“Ah! He will no doubt be able to make that +clear to me. May I ask where he is at present?”</p> +<p>Aileen went white as snow. Her distress was apparent +to all.</p> +<p>“Sir, I do entreat you to believe that what I say iss +true,” she cried whitely.</p> +<p>The little rat in fustian broke out screaming that he +would swear to me among ten thousand: as to the +girl she must be the rebel’s accomplice, his mistress +mayhap. Aileen, her big, anxious eyes fixed on the +officer, shrank back against the stair rail at her accuser’s +word. The lad commanded him sharply to be +quiet, but with the utmost respect let Aileen understand +that he must have talk with me.</p> +<p>All this one swift glance had told me, and at this +opportune moment I sauntered up, Volney’s snuff-box +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_246' name='page_246'></a>246</span> +in my hand. If the doubt possessed me as to how the +devil I was to win free from this accusation, I trust no +shadow of fear betrayed itself in my smirking face.</p> +<p>“Egad, here’s a gathering of the clans. Hope I’m +not <i>de trop</i>,” I simpered.</p> +<p>The lieutenant bowed to me with evident relief.</p> +<p>“On the contrary, sir, if you are the gentleman +travelling with this lady you are the desired complement +to our party. There has been some doubt expressed +as to you. This man here claims to have recognized +you as one of the Pretender’s army; says he +was present when you bought provisions for a +troop of horsemen during the rebel invasion of this +town.”</p> +<p>“’Slife, perhaps I’m Charles Stuart himself,” I +shrugged.</p> +<p>“I swear to him. I swear to him,” screamed fustian.</p> +<p>On my soul merely to look at the man gave me a +nausea. His white malevolence fair scunnered me.</p> +<p>I adjusted Volney’s eye-glass with care and looked +the fellow over with a candid interest, much as your +scientist examines a new specimen.</p> +<p>“What the plague! Is this rusty old last year’s +pippin an evidence against me? Rot me, he’s a pretty +scrub on which to father a charge against a gentleman, +Lud, his face is a lie. No less!” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_247' name='page_247'></a>247</span></p> +<p>“May I ask your name, sir, and your business in +this part of the country?” said the lieutenant.</p> +<p>Some impulse—perhaps the fact that I was wearing +his clothes—put it into my head to borrow Volney’s +name. There was risk that the lad might have +met the baronet, but that was a contingency which +must be ventured. It brought him to like a shot +across a lugger’s bows.</p> +<p>“Sir Robert Volney, the friend of the Prince,” he +said, patently astonished.</p> +<p>“The Prince has that honour,” I smiled.</p> +<p>“Pray pardon my insistence. Orders from headquarters,” +says he apologetically.</p> +<p>I waved aside his excuses peevishly.</p> +<p>“Sink me, Sir Robert Volney should be well +enough known not to be badgered by every country +booby with a king’s commission. Lard, I vow I’ll +have a change when Fritz wears the crown.”</p> +<p>With that I turned on my heel in a simulation of +petty anger, offered my arm to Aileen, and marched +up the stairs with her. My manner and my speech +were full of flowered compliments to her, of insolence +to the young gentleman below, for there is nothing +more galling to a man’s pride than to be ignored.</p> +<p>“’Twas the only way,” I said to Aileen when the +door was closed on us above. “’Tis a shame to flout +an honest young gentleman so, but in such fashion +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_248' name='page_248'></a>248</span> +the macaroni would play the part. Had I stayed to +talk with him he might have asked for my proof. +We’re well out of the affair.”</p> +<p>But we were not out of it yet. I make no doubt +that no sooner was my back turned than the little rat +in fustian, his mind set on a possible reward, was +plucking at the lad’s sleeve with suggestions and +doubts. In any case there came presently a knock at +the door. I opened. The boy officer was there with +a red face obstinately set.</p> +<p>“Sir, I must trouble you again,” he said icily. +“You say you are Sir Robert Volney. I must ask +you for proofs.”</p> +<p>At once I knew that I had overdone my part. It +had been better to have dealt with this youth courteously; +but since I had chosen my part, I must +play it.</p> +<p>“Proofs,” I cried blackly. “Do you think I carry +proofs of my identity for every country bumpkin to +read? Sink me, ’tis an outrage.”</p> +<p>He flushed, but hung doggedly to his point.</p> +<p>“You gain nothing by insulting me, Sir Robert. I +may be only a poor line officer and you one high in +power, but by Heaven! I’m as good a man as you,” +cried the boy; then rapped out, “I’ll see your +papers, if you have me broke for it.”</p> +<p>My papers! An inspiration shot into my brain. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_249' name='page_249'></a>249</span> +When Volney had substituted for me at Portree he +had given me a pass through the lines, made out in +his name and signed by the Duke of Cumberland, in +order that I might present it if challenged. Hitherto +I had not been challenged, and indeed I had forgotten +the existence of it, but now— I fished out +the sheet of parchment and handed it to the officer. +His eye ran over the passport, and he handed it back +with a flushed face.</p> +<p>“I have to offer a thousand apologies for troubling +you, Sir Robert. This paper establishes your identity +beyond doubt.”</p> +<p>“Hope you’re quite satisfied,” I said with vast +irony.</p> +<p>“Oh, just one more question. The lady travelling +with you?”</p> +<p>I watched him silently.</p> +<p>“She is from the Highlands, is she not?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Is she?”</p> +<p>“To be sure ’tis sufficient if Sir Robert Volney +vouches for her.”</p> +<p>“Is it?”</p> +<p>“And of course the fact that she travels in his +company——”</p> +<p>My answer was a yawn, half stifled behind my +hand. The lad glared at me, in a rage at me for my +insolence and at himself for his boyish inability to +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_250' name='page_250'></a>250</span> +cope with it. Then he swung on his heel and +stamped down-stairs. Five years later I met him at a +dinner given by a neighbour of mine in the country, +and I took occasion then to explain to him my intolerable +conduct. Many a laugh we have since had +over it.</p> +<p>We reached London on a dismal Wednesday when +the rain was pouring down in sheets. Aileen I took +at once to our town house that she might be with +Cloe, though I expected to put up with my old nurse +in another part of the city. I leave you to conceive +the surprise of Charles and my sister when we +dropped in on them.</p> +<p>The news they had for us was of the worst. Every +week witnessed the execution of some poor Jacobites +and the arrival of a fresh batch to take their place in the +prisons. The Scotch Lords Balmerino, Cromartie and +Kilmarnock were already on trial and their condemnation +was a foregone conclusion. The thirst for blood +was appalling and not at all glutted by the numerous +executions that had already occurred. ’Twas indeed +for me a most dismal home-coming.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XV_A_REPRIEVE' id='XV_A_REPRIEVE'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_251' name='page_251'></a>251</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<h3>A REPRIEVE!</h3> +</div> + +<p>“My Lord of March, is Arthur Lord Balmerino +guilty of High Treason?”</p> +<p>Lord March, youngest peer of the realm, +profligate and scoundrel, laid his hand on the place +where his heart ought to have been and passed judgment +unctuously.</p> +<p>“Guilty, upon my honour.”</p> +<p>The Lord High Steward repeated the same question +to each of the peers in order of their age and received +from each the same answer. As it became plain that +the prisoner at the bar was to be convicted the gentleman-gaoler +gradually turned the edge of his axe +toward Balmerino, whose manner was nonchalant +and scornful. When the vote had been polled my +Lord bowed to the judges with dignity and remarked, +“I am sorry to have taken up so much of your time +without avail, my lords. If I pleaded ‘not guilty’ my +principal reason was that the ladies might not miss +their show.” Shortly afterward he was ushered out of +Westminster Hall to his carriage.</p> +<p>From the view-point of the whigs Balmerino was +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_252' name='page_252'></a>252</span> +undoubtedly guilty as Lucifer and not all the fair play +in the world could have saved him from Tower Hill. +He was twice a rebel, having been pardoned for his +part in “the ’15,” and ’twas not to be expected that +so hardened an offender would again receive mercy. +But at the least he might have been given courtesy, +and that neither he nor his two fellows, Kilmarnock +and Cromartie, did at all receive. The crown lawyers +to the contrary took an unmanly delight in girding +and snapping at the captives whom the fortune of war +had put in their power. Monstrous charges were +trumped up that could not be substantiated, even the +Lord High Steward descending to vituperation.</p> +<p>Horry Walpole admitted Balmerino to be the bravest +man he had ever seen. Throughout the trial his demeanour +had been characteristic of the man, bold and +intrepid even to the point of bravado. The stout old +lord conversed with the official axe-bearer and felt the +edge of the ominous instrument with the unconcern +of any chance spectator. There was present a little +boy who could see nothing for the crowd and Balmerino +alone was unselfish enough to think of him. He +made a seat for the child beside himself and took care +that he missed nothing of the ceremony. When the +Solicitor-General, whose brother, Secretary Murray, +had saved his own life by turning evidence against +Balmerino, went up to the Scotch Lord and asked him +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_253' name='page_253'></a>253</span> +insolently how he dared give the peers so much +trouble, Balmerino drew himself up with dignity and +asked, “Who is this person?” Being told that it was +Mr. Murray, “Oh!” he answered smiling, “Mr. Murray! +I am glad to see you. I have been with several +of your relations; the good lady your mother +was of great use to us at Perth.”</p> +<p>Through the crowd I elbowed my way and waited +for the three condemned Scotch lords to pass into +their carriages. Balmerino, bluff and soldierly, led +the way; next came the tall and elegant Kilmarnock; +Lord Cromartie, plainly nervous and depressed, +brought up the rear. Balmerino recognized me, +nodded almost imperceptibly, but of course gave no +other sign of knowing the gawky apprentice who +gaped at him along with a thousand others. Some one +in the crowd cried out, “Which is Balmerino?” +The old lord turned courteously, and said with a bow, +“I am Balmerino.” At the door of the coach he +stopped to shake hands with his fellow-sufferers.</p> +<p>“I am sorry that I alone cannot pay the debt, gentlemen. +But after all ’tis but what we owe to nature +sooner or later, the common debt of all. I bear in +mind what Sir Walter Raleigh wrote the night before +his head paid forfeit.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“‘Cowards fear to die; but courage stout,</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>Rather than live in snuff, will be put out.’</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<div><span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_254' name='page_254'></a>254</span></div> +<p>“Poor Murray drags out a miserable life despised by +all, but we go to our God with clean hands. By St. +Andrew, the better lot is ours.”</p> +<p>“I think of my poor wife and eight fatherless +bairns,” said Cromartie sadly.</p> +<p>Rough Arthur Elphinstone’s comforting hand fell +on his shoulder.</p> +<p>“A driech outlook, my friend. You must commend +them to the God of orphans if the worst befalls. +As for us— Well, in the next world we will not +be tried by a whig jury.”</p> +<p>Balmerino stepped into the coach which was waiting +to convey him to the Tower. The gentleman-gaoler +followed with the official axe, the edge of which +still pointed toward its victim. He must have handled +it carelessly in getting into the carriage, for I heard +Balmerino bark out,</p> +<p>“Take care, man, or you’ll break my shins with +that d——d axe.”</p> +<p>They were the last words I ever heard from his lips. +The door slammed and the coach drove away to the +prison, from which my Lord came forth only to meet +the headsman and his block.</p> +<p>Sadly I made my way towards the city through the +jostling crowds of sightseers. Another batch of captives +from the North was to pass through the town +that day on their way to prison, and a fleering rabble +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_255' name='page_255'></a>255</span> +surged to and fro about the streets of London in gala +dress, boisterous, jovial, pitiless. From high to low +by common consent the town made holiday. Above +the common ruck, in windows hired for the occasion, +the fashionable world, exuding patronage and perfume, +sat waiting for the dreary procession to pass. In the +windows opposite where I found standing room a +party from the West End made much talk and laughter. +In the group I recognized Antoinette Westerleigh, +Sir James Craven, and Topham Beauclerc.</p> +<p>“Slitterkins! I couldn’t get a seat at Westminster +Hall this morning for love or money,” pouted +Mistress Westerleigh. “’Tis pity you men can’t find +room for a poor girl to see the show.”</p> +<p>“Egad, there might as well have been no rebellion +at all,” said Beauclerc dryly. “Still, you can go to +see their heads chopped off. ’Twill be some compensation.”</p> +<p>“I suppose you’ll go, Selwyn,” said Craven to that +gentleman, who with Volney had just joined the +group.</p> +<p>“I suppose so, and to make amends I’ll go to see +them sewn on again,” returned Selwyn.</p> +<p>“I hear you want the High Steward’s wand for a +memento,” said Beauclerc.</p> +<p>“Not I,” returned Selwyn. “I did, but egad! he +behaved so like an attorney the first day and so like a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_256' name='page_256'></a>256</span> +pettifogger the second that I wouldn’t take the wand +to light my fire with.”</p> +<p>“Here they come, sink me!” cried Craven, and +craned forward to get a first glimpse of the wretched +prisoners.</p> +<p>First came four wagon-loads of the wounded, huddled +together thick as shrimps, their pallid faces and forlorn +appearance a mute cry for sympathy. The mob +roared like wild beasts, poured out maledictions on +their unkempt heads, hurled stones and sticks at them +amid furious din and clamour. At times it seemed as +if the prisoners would be torn from the hands of their +guard by the excited mob. Scarce any name was +found too vile with which to execrate these unfortunate +gentlemen who had been guilty of no crime but +excessive loyalty.</p> +<p>Some of the captives were destined for the New +Prison in Southwark, others for Newgate, and a few +for the Marshalsea. Those of the prisoners who were +able to walk were handcuffed together in couples, +with the exception of a few of the officers who rode +on horseback bound hand and foot. Among the +horsemen I easily recognized Malcolm Macleod, who +sat erect, dour, scornful, his strong face set like a vise, +looking neither to the right nor the left. Another +batch of foot prisoners followed. Several of the poor +fellows were known to me, including Leath, Chadwick, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_257' name='page_257'></a>257</span> +and the lawyer Morgan. My roving eye fell on +Creagh and Captain Roy shackled together.</p> +<p>From the window above a piercing cry of agony +rang out.</p> +<p>“Tony! Tony!”</p> +<p>Creagh slewed round his head and threw up his +free hand.</p> +<p>“’Toinette!” he cried.</p> +<p>But Miss Westerleigh had fainted, and Volney was +already carrying her from the window with the flicker +of a grim smile on his face. I noticed with relief +that Craven had disappeared from sight.</p> +<p>My relief was temporary. When I turned to leave +I found my limbs clogged with impedimenta. To +each arm hung a bailiff, and a third clung like a leech +to my legs. Some paces distant Sir James Craven +stood hulloing them to the sport with malign pleasure.</p> +<p>“To it, fustian breeches! Yoho, yoho! There’s +ten guineas in it for each of you and two hundred for +me. ’Slife, down with him, you red-haired fellow! +Throw him hard. Ecod, I’ll teach you to be rough +with Craven, my cockerel Montagu!” And the +bully kicked me twice where I lay.</p> +<p>They dragged me to my feet, and Craven began to +sharpen his dull wit on me.</p> +<p>“Two hundred guineas I get out of this, you cursed +rebel highwayman, besides the pleasure of seeing you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_258' name='page_258'></a>258</span> +wear hemp—and that’s worth a hundred more, sink +my soul to hell if it isn’t.”</p> +<p>“Your soul is sunk there long ago, and this blackguard +job sends you one circle lower in the Inferno, +Catchpoll Craven,” said a sneering voice behind him.</p> +<p>Craven swung on his heel in a fury, but Volney’s +easy manner—and perhaps the reputation of his small +sword too—damped the mettle of his courage. He +drew back with a curse, whispered a word into the ear +of the nearest bailiff, and shouldered his way into the +crowd, from the midst of which he watched us with a +sneer.</p> +<p>“And what mad folly, may I ask, brought you back +to London a-courting the gallows?” inquired Volney +of me.</p> +<p>“Haven’t you heard that Malcolm Macleod is +taken?” I asked.</p> +<p>“And did you come to exchange places with him? +On my soul you’re madder than I thought. Couldn’t +you trust me to see that my future brother-in-law +comes to no harm without ramming your own head +down the lion’s throat? Faith, I think Craven has the +right of it: the hempen noose is yawning for such +fools as you.”</p> +<p>The bailiffs took me to the New Prison and thrust +me into an underground cell about the walls of which +moisture hung in beads. Like the rest of the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_259' name='page_259'></a>259</span> +prisoners I was heavily ironed by day and fastened +down to the floor by a staple at night. One hour in +the day we were suffered to go into the yard for +exercise and to be inspected and commented upon by +the great number of visitors who were allowed access +to the prison. On the second day of my arrival I +stood blinking in the strong sunlight, having just come +up from my dark cell, when two prisoners shuffled +across the open to me, their fetters dragging on the +ground. Conceive my great joy at finding Creagh +and Donald Roy fellow inmates of New Prison with +me. Indeed Captain Roy occupied the very next cell +to mine.</p> +<p>I shall not weary you with any account of our +captivity except to state that the long confinement in +my foul cell sapped my health. I fell victim to agues +and fevers. Day by day I grew worse until I began +to think that ’twas a race between disease and the +gallows. Came at last my trial, and prison attendants +haled me away to the courts. Poor Leath, +white to the lips, was being hustled out of the room +just as I entered.</p> +<p>“By Heaven, Montagu, these whigs treat us like +dogs,” he cried passionately to me. “They are not +content with our lives, but must heap foul names and +infamy upon us.”</p> +<p>The guards hurried us apart before I could answer. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_260' name='page_260'></a>260</span> +I asked one of them what the verdict had been in +Leath’s case, and the fellow with an evil laugh made a +horrid gesture with his hands that confirmed my worst +fears.</p> +<p>In the court room I found a frowning judge, a smug-faced +yawning jury, and row upon row of eager curious +spectators come to see the show. Besides these +there were some half-score of my friends attending in +the vain hope of lending me countenance. My shifting +glance fell on Charles, Cloe, and Aileen, all three +with faces like the corpse for colour and despairing eyes +which spoke of a hopeless misery. They had fought +desperately for my life, but they knew I was doomed. +I smiled sadly on them, then turned to shake hands +with George Selwyn.</p> +<p>He hoped, in his gentle drawl, that I would win +clear. My face lit up at his kindly interest. I was +like a drowning man clutching at straws. Even the +good-will of a turnkey was of value to me.</p> +<p>“Thanks, Selwyn,” I said, a little brokenly. “I’m +afraid there’s no chance for me, but it’s good hearing +that you are on my side.”</p> +<p>He appeared embarrassed at my eagerness. Not +quite good form he thought it, I dare say. His next +words damped the glow at my heart.</p> +<p>“’Gad, yes! Of course. I ought to be; bet five +ponies with Craven that you would cheat the gallows +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_261' name='page_261'></a>261</span> +yet. He gave me odds of three to one, and I thought +it a pretty good risk.”</p> +<p>It occurred to me fantastically that he was looking +me over with the eye of an underwriter who has insured +at a heavy premium a rotten hulk bound for +stormy seas. I laughed bitterly.</p> +<p>“You may win yet,” I said. “This cursed prison +fever is eating me up;” and with that I turned my +back on him.</p> +<p>I do not intend to go into my trial with any particularity. +From first to last I had no chance and +everybody in the room understood it. There were a +dozen witnesses to prove that I had been in the thick +of the rebellion. Among the rest was Volney, in a +vile temper at being called on to give testimony. He +was one of your reluctant witnesses, showed a decided +acrimony toward the prosecution, and had to have +the facts drawn out of him as with a forceps. Such a +witness, of high social standing and evidently anxious +to shield me, was worth to the State more than all the +other paltry witnesses combined. The jury voted +guilty without leaving the court-room, after which the +judge donned his black cap and pronounced the horrible +judgment which was the doom of traitors. I was +gash with fear, but I looked him in the face and took +it smilingly. It was Volney who led the murmur of +approval which greeted my audacity, a murmur which +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_262' name='page_262'></a>262</span> +broke frankly into applause when Aileen, white to the +lips, came fearlessly up to bid me be of good cheer, +that she would save me yet if the importunity of a +woman would avail aught.</p> +<p>Wearily the days dragged themselves into weeks, +and still no word of hope came to cheer me. There +was, however, one incident that gave me much pleasure. +On the afternoon before the day set for our execution +Donald Roy made his escape. Some one had given +him a file and he had been tinkering at his irons for +days. We were in the yard for our period of exercise, +and half a dozen of us, pretending to be in earnest +conversation together, surrounded him while he +snapped the irons. Some days before this time he +had asked permission to wear the English dress, +and he now coolly sauntered out of the prison +with some of the visitors quite unnoticed by the +guard.</p> +<p>The morning dawned on which nine of us were to +be executed. Our coffee was served to us in the room +off the yard, and we drank it in silence. I noticed +gladly that Macdonald was not with us, and from that +argued that he had not been recaptured.</p> +<p>“Here’s wishing him a safe escape from the country,” +said Creagh.</p> +<p>“Lucky dog!” murmured Leath, “I hope they +won’t nail him again.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_263' name='page_263'></a>263</span></p> +<p>Brandy was served. Creagh named the toast and +we drank it standing.</p> +<p>“King James!”</p> +<p>The governor of the prison bustled in just as the +broken glasses shivered behind us.</p> +<p>“Now gentlemen, if you are quite ready.”</p> +<p>Three sledges waited for us in the yard to draw us +to the gallows tree. There was no cowardly feeling, +but perhaps a little dilatoriness in getting into the first +sledge. Five minutes might bring a reprieve for any +of us, and to be in the first sledge might mean the +difference between life and death.</p> +<p>“Come, gentlemen! If you please! Let us have +no more halting,” said the governor, irritably.</p> +<p>Creagh laughed hardily and vaulted into the sledge. +“Egad, you’re right! We’ll try a little haltering for +a change.”</p> +<p>Morgan followed him, and I took the third place.</p> +<p>A rider dismounted at the prison gate.</p> +<p>“Is there any news for me?” asked one poor fellow +eagerly.</p> +<p>“Yes, the sheriff has just come and is waiting for +you,” jeered one of the guards with brutal frankness.</p> +<p>The poor fellow stiffened at once. “Very well. I +am ready.”</p> +<p>A heavy rain was falling, but the crowd between +the prison and Kennington Common was immense. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_264' name='page_264'></a>264</span> +At the time of our trials the mob had treated us in +ruffianly fashion, but now we found a respectful silence. +The lawyer Morgan was in an extremely irritable +mood. All the way to the Common he poured +into our inattentive ears a tale of woe about how his +coffee had been cold that morning. Over and over +again he recited to us the legal procedure for bringing +the matter into the courts with sufficient effect to have +the prison governor removed from his position.</p> +<p>A messenger with an official document was waiting +for us at the gallows. The sheriff tore it open. We +had all been bearing ourselves boldly enough I dare +say, but at sight of that paper our lips parched, our +throats choked, and our eyes burned. Some one was +to be pardoned or reprieved. But who? What a moment! +How the horror of it lives in one’s mind! +Leisurely the sheriff read the document through, then +deliberately went over it again while nine hearts stood +still. Creagh found the hardihood at that moment of +intense anxiety to complain of the rope about his +neck.</p> +<p>“I wish the gossoon who made this halter was to +be hanged in it. ’Slife, the thing doesn’t fit by a +mile,” he said jauntily.</p> +<p>“Mr. Anthony Creagh pardoned, Mr. Kenneth +Montagu reprieved,” said the sheriff without a trace +of feeling in his voice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_265' name='page_265'></a>265</span></p> +<p>For an instant the world swam dizzily before me. +I closed my eyes, partly from faintness, partly to hide +from the other poor fellows the joy that leaped to +them. One by one the brave lads came up and shook +hands with Creagh and me in congratulation. Their +good-will took me by the throat, and I could only +wring their hands in silence.</p> +<p>On our way back to the prison Creagh turned to +me with streaming eyes. “Do you know whom I +have to thank for this, Kenneth?”</p> +<p>“No. Whom?”</p> +<p>“Antoinette Westerleigh, God bless her dear heart!”</p> +<p>And that set me wondering. It might be that +Charles and Aileen alone had won my reprieve for +me, but I suspected Volney’s fine hand in the matter. +Whether he had stirred himself in my affairs or not, I +knew that I too owed my life none the less to the leal +heart of a girl.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVI_VOLNEY_S_GUEST' id='XVI_VOLNEY_S_GUEST'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_266' name='page_266'></a>266</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<h3>VOLNEY’S GUEST</h3> +</div> + +<p>Of all the London beaux not one had apartments +more elegant than Sir Robert Volney.<a name="FNanchor_3" id="FNanchor_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> +It was one of the man’s vanities to play the +part of a fop, to disguise his restless force and eager +brain beneath the vapid punctilios of a man of fashion. +There were few suspected that his reckless gayety was +but a mask to hide a weary, unsatisfied heart, and that +this smiling debonair gentleman with the biting wit +was in truth the least happy of men. Long he had +played his chosen rôle. Often he doubted whether +the game were worth the candle, but he knew that he +would play it to the end, and since he had so elected +would bear himself so that all men should mark him. +If life were not what the boy Robert Volney had conceived +it; if failure were inevitable and even the fruit +of achievement bitter; if his nature and its enveloping +circumstance had proven more strong than his dim, +fast-fading, boyish ideals, at least he could cross the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_267' name='page_267'></a>267</span> +stage gracefully and bow himself off with a jest. So +much he owed himself and so much he would pay.</p> +<p>Something of all this perhaps was in Sir Robert +Volney’s mind as he lay on the couch with dreamy +eyes cast back into the yesterdays of life, that dim +past which echoed faintly back to him memories of a +brave vanished youth. On his lips, no doubt, played +the half ironic, half wistful smile which had become +habitual to the man.</p> +<p>And while with half-shut eyes his mind drifted +lazily back to that golden age forever gone, enter +from the inner room, Captain Donald Roy Macdonald, +a cocked pistol in his hand, on his head Volney’s hat +and wig, on his back Volney’s coat, on his feet Volney’s +boots. The baronet eyed the Highlander with +mild astonishment, then rose to his feet and offered +him a chair.</p> +<p>“Delighted, I’m sure,” he said politely.</p> +<p>“You look it,” drolled Macdonald.</p> +<p>“Off to the wars again, or are you still at your old +profession of lifting, my Highland cateran?”</p> +<p>Donald shrugged. “I am a man of many trades. +In my day I have been soldier, sailor, reiver, hunter +and hunted, doctor and patient, forby a wheen mair. +What the gods provide I take.”</p> +<p>“Hm! So I see. Prithee, make yourself at home,” +was Volney’s ironical advice. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_268' name='page_268'></a>268</span></p> +<p>Macdonald fell into an attitude before the glass and +admired himself vastly.</p> +<p>“Fegs, I will that. The small-clothes now— Are +they not an admirable fit whatever? And the +coat— ’Tis my measure to a nicety. Let me +congratulate you on your tailor. Need I say that the +periwig is a triumph of the friseur’s art?”</p> +<p>“Your approval flatters me immensely,” murmured +Volney, smiling whimsically. “Faith, I never +liked my clothes so well as now. You make an admirable +setting for them, Captain, but the ruffles are +somewhat in disarray. If you will permit me to ring +for my valet Watkins he will be at your service. +Devil take him, he should have been here an hour +ago.”</p> +<p>“He sends by me a thousand excuses for his absence. +The fact is that he is unavoidably detained.”</p> +<p>“Pardon me. I begin to understand. You doubtless +found it necessary to put a quietus on him. May +one be permitted to hope that you didn’t have to +pistol him? I should miss him vastly. He is the +best valet in London.”</p> +<p>“Your unselfish attachment to him does you infinite +credit, Sir Robert. It fair brings the water to my +een. But it joys me to reassure you at all events. +He is in your bedroom tied hand and foot, biting on +a knotted kerchief. I persuaded him to take a rest.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_269' name='page_269'></a>269</span></p> +<p>Volney laughed.</p> +<p>“Your powers of persuasion are great, Captain +Macdonald. Once you persuaded me to leave your +northern capital. The air, I think you phrased it, +was too biting for me. London too has a climate of +its own, a throat disease epidemic among northerners +is working great havoc here now. One trusts you +will not fall a victim, sir. Have you—er—developed +any symptoms?”</p> +<p>“’Twould nae doubt grieve you sair. You’ll be +gey glad to learn that the crisis is past.”</p> +<p>“Charmed, ’pon honour. And would it be indiscreet +to ask whether you are making a long stay in +the city?”</p> +<p>“Faith, I wish I knew. Donald Roy wad be blithe +to answer no. And that minds me that I will be +owing you an apology for intruding in your rooms. +Let the facts speak for me. Stravaiging through the +streets with the chase hot on my heels, your open +window invited me. I stepped in, footed it up-stairs, +and found refuge in your sleeping apartments, where +I took the liberty of borrowing a change of clothes, +mine being over well known at the New Prison. So +too I purloined this good sword and the pistol. That +Sir Robert Volney was my host I did not know till I +chanced on some letters addressed to that name. +Believe me, I’m unco sorry to force myself upon you.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_270' name='page_270'></a>270</span></p> +<p>“I felicitate myself on having you as a guest. The +vapours had me by the throat to-night. Your presence +is a sufficing tonic for a most oppressive attack +of the blue devils. This armchair has been recommended +as an easy one. Pray occupy it.”</p> +<p>Captain Roy tossed the pistol on a table and sat +him down in the chair with much composure. +Volney poured him wine and he drank; offered him +fruit and he ate. Together, gazing into the glowing +coals, they supped their mulled claret in a luxurious +silence.</p> +<p>The Highlander was the first to speak.</p> +<p>“It’s a geyan queer warld this. <i>Anjour d’hui roi, +demain rien.</i> Yestreen I gaped away the hours in a +vile hole waiting for my craig (neck) to be raxed +(twisted); the night I drink old claret in the best of +company before a cheery fire. The warm glow of it +goes to my heart after that dank cell in the prison. +By heaven, the memory of that dungeon sends a shiver +down my spine.”</p> +<p>“To-morrow, was it not, that you were to journey +to Tyburn and from thence across the Styx?”</p> +<p>“Yes, to-morrow, and with me as pretty a lot of +lads as ever threw steel across their hurdies. My heart +is wae for them, the leal comrades who have lain out +with me in the heather many a night and watched the +stars come out. There’s Montagu and Creagh now! +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_271' name='page_271'></a>271</span> +We three have tholed together empty wame and +niddering cold and the weariness o’ death. The +hurly o’ the whistling claymore has warmed our +hearts; the sight of friends stark from lead and steel +and rope has garred them rin like water. God, it +makes me feel like a deserter to let them take the +lang journey alane. Did you ken that the lad came +back to get me from the field when I was wounded at +Drummossie Moor?”</p> +<p>“Montagu? I never heard that.”</p> +<p>“Took his life in his hand to come back to that +de’il’s caldron where the red bluid ran like a mountain +burn. It iss the boast of the Macdonalds that they +always pay their debts both to friend and foe. Fine +have I paid mine. He will be thinking me the true +friend in his hour of need,” finished Donald bitterly.</p> +<p>“You don’t know him. The temper of the man is +not so grudging. His joy in your escape will help +deaden his own pain. Besides, what could you do for +him if you were with him at the end? ’Twould be +only one more sacrifice.”</p> +<p>The grim dour Highland sternness hung heavy on +Donald’s face.</p> +<p>“I could stand shoulder to shoulder with him and +curse the whigs at all events. I could cry with him +‘God save King James’ in the teeth of the sidier +roy.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_272' name='page_272'></a>272</span></p> +<p>Volney clapped his hands softly. “Hear, hear!” +he cried with flaming eyes. “Almost thou persuadest +me to be a Jacobite.”</p> +<p>The Gael turned to him impetuously, his blue eyes +(as I conceive) moist with emotion.</p> +<p>“Man, could I persuade you to be saving the lad? +It was for this that I waited in your rooms to see you. +They say that you are a favourite of princes, that what +you ask you get. Do for once a fine thing and ask +this boy’s life.”</p> +<p>“They exaggerate my power. But for argument’s +sake suppose it true. Why should I ask it? What +have I to gain by it?”</p> +<p>Volney, his eyes fixed on the fire, asked the +question as much to himself as to the Highlander. +The manner of his tone suggested that it was not a +new one to him.</p> +<p>“Gain! Who spoke of gain? Are you a Jew +peddler or an English gentleman?” cried Donald.</p> +<p>“They call me dissolute, gambler, profligate. These +be hard names, but I have earned them all. I make +no apologies and offer no excuses. As I have lived +my life, so have I lived it. For buttered phrases I +have no taste. Call me libertine, or call me man of +fashion; ’tis all one. My evil nature—<i>C’est plus fort +que moi</i>. At least I have not played the hypocrite. +No canting sighs! No lapses to morality and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_273' name='page_273'></a>273</span> +prayers! No vices smugly hidden! The plain +straight road to hell taken at a gallop!” So, with +chin in hand and dark eyes lit by the flickering flame, +this roué and sentimentalist philosophized.</p> +<p>“And Montagu?” cried the Gael, harking back to +his prosaic text.</p> +<p>“Has made his bed and he must lie in it.”</p> +<p>“By Heaven, who ruined him and made an outlaw +of him? Who drove him to rebellion?”</p> +<p>“You imply that I strewed his bed with nettles. +Perhaps. ’Tis well my shoulders are broad, else they +could not bear all that is laid upon them.”</p> +<p>“You would never be letting a petty private grudge +influence you?”</p> +<p>Volney turned, stung to the quick.</p> +<p>“You go too far, Captain Macdonald. Have I +given bonds to save this fool from the consequences +of his folly? I cherish no hatred toward him, but I +play no Jonathan to his David. Egad, it were a +pretty rôle for me to essay! You would cast me for +a part full of heroics, the moving of heaven and earth +to save my dearest enemy. Thank you, I am not for +it. Neither for nor against him will I lift a hand. +There is no malice in my heart toward this poor condemned +young gentleman. If he can win free I shall +be glad, even though his gain is my loss, but further +than that I will not go. He came between me and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_274' name='page_274'></a>274</span> +the thing I most desired on earth. Shall I help him +to the happiness which will condemn me to misery?”</p> +<p>For an instant the habitual veil of mockery was +snatched aside and the tortured soul of the man +leaped from his burning eyes.</p> +<p>“You saved him at Portree,” was all that Donald +could say.</p> +<p>“I paid a debt to him and to Cumberland. The +ledger is now balanced.”</p> +<p>The Jacobite paced up and down the room for a +minute, then stopped and touched the other on his +shoulder where he sat.</p> +<p>“I too am somewhat in your debt, Sir Robert. +When Montagu opposed you he fought for his own +hand. Therein he was justified. But I, an outsider, +interfered in a quarrel that was not mine own, spoiled +sport for you, in short lost you the lassie. You followed +her to Scotland; ’twas I that drove you back +to England when Montagu was powerless. From +first to last I am the rock on which your love bark +has split. If your cause has spelled failure I alone +am to blame.”</p> +<p>“So? What then?”</p> +<p>“Why this: without Captain Donald Roy Macdonald +the lad had been helpless. Donald was at his +back to whisper words of advice and encouragement. +Donald contrived the plot which separated you from +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_275' name='page_275'></a>275</span> +the lady. Donald stood good fairy to the blessed pair +of bairns and made of himsel’ a match-making auld +mither. You owe your hatred to Donald Roy and +not to the lad who was but his instrument.”</p> +<p>The macaroni looked at the other with an odd smile +twitching at the corners of his mouth.</p> +<p>“And so?”</p> +<p>“And so,” continued the Macdonald triumphantly, +a challenge in his voice and manner, “and so, who but +Donald should be your enemy? My certes, a prettier +foe at the broadsword you will not find in a’ Scotland.”</p> +<p>“I do not quite take your meaning. Would you +fight with me?”</p> +<p>“Blithe would I be to cross the steel with you, but +little that would help Kenneth. My plan is this: +save the lad from the halter and I will tak’ his place.”</p> +<p>“You mean that if I compass his freedom you will +surrender to be executed?”</p> +<p>“I am meaning just that.”</p> +<p>“I thought so from the first. ’Slife, man, do you +think I can change my foes like gloves? <i>Chacun +paie son écot.</i>”</p> +<p>“Why not? Iss not a man a better foe than a +halfling boy?”</p> +<p>“I would never seek a better foe or a better friend +than either you or Montagu, Captain. On my soul, +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_276' name='page_276'></a>276</span> +you have both the true ring. But as to your offer I +must decline it. The thing is one of your wild impracticable +Highland imaginings, a sheer impossibility. +You seem to think I have a blood feud and that +nothing less than a foeman’s life will satisfy me. In +that you err. I am a plain man of the world and cannot +reach your heroics.”</p> +<p>The Jacobite’s face fell.</p> +<p>“You are going to let the boy die then?”</p> +<p>Volney hesitated, then answered with a shrug.</p> +<p>“I shall be frank with you. To-day I secured +Montagu a reprieve for two weeks. He shall have +his chance such as it is, but I do not expect him to +take it. If he shows stubborn I wash my hands of +him. I have said the last word. You may talk till +Yule without changing my mind.” Then, with an +abrupt turn of the subject: “Have you with you the +sinews of war, Captain? You will need money to +effect your escape. My purse is at your service not +less than my wardrobe, or if you care to lie hidden +here for a time you will be quite safe. Watkins is a +faithful fellow and devoted to me.”</p> +<p>The Highlander flushed, stammering out:</p> +<p>“For your proffered loan, I accept it with the best +will in the world; and as to your offer of a hiding-place, +troth! I’m badly needing one. Gin it were +no inconvenience——” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_277' name='page_277'></a>277</span></p> +<p>“None in the world.”</p> +<p>“I will be remembering you for a generous foe till +the day of my death. You’re a man to ride the water +wi’.”</p> +<p>“Lard! There’s no generosity in it. Every +Mohawk thinks it a pleasure to help any man break +the laws. Besides, I count on you to help drive away +the doldrums. Do you care for a hand at piquet now, +Captain?”</p> +<p>“With pleasure. I find in the cartes great diversion, +but by your leave I’ll first unloose your man +Watkins.”</p> +<p>“’Slife, I had forgot him. We’ll have him brew us +a punch and make a night of it. Sleep and I are a +thousand miles apart.”</p> + +<hr style='width: 10%; border:none; border-bottom:1px solid black; clear:both; margin: 2em auto 1em 0' /> + +<div class='footnote'><a name='Footnote_3' id='Footnote_3'></a><a href='#FNanchor_3'><span class='label'>[3]</span></a> +<p style='font-size: small'> The material for this chapter was furnished me with great particularity by Captain Donald Roy Macdonald. From his narrative to me, I set down the story in substance as he told it.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;K. M.</p></div> + +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVII_THE_VALLEY_OF_THE_SHADOW' id='XVII_THE_VALLEY_OF_THE_SHADOW'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_278' name='page_278'></a>278</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<h3>THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW</h3> +</div> + +<p>There came to me one day a surprise, a +marked hour among my weeks struck calm. +Charles, Cloe, and Aileen had been wont to +visit me regularly; once Selwyn had dropped in on +me; but I had not before been honoured by a visit +from Sir Robert Volney. He sauntered into my cell +swinging a clouded cane, dressed to kill and point device +in every ruffle, all dabbed with scented powder, +pomatum, and jessamine water. To him, coming +direct from the strong light of the sun, my cell was +dark as the inside of Jonah’s whale. He stood hesitating +in the doorway, groping with his cane for some +guide to his footsteps.</p> +<p>For an instant I drew back, thinking he had come +to mock me; then I put the idea from me. However +much of evil there was in him, Volney was not a small +man. I stepped forward to greet him.</p> +<p>“Welcome to my poor best, Sir Robert! If I do +not offer you a chair it is because I have none. My +regret is that my circumstances hamper my hospitality.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_279' name='page_279'></a>279</span></p> +<p>“Not at all. You offer me your best, and in that +lies the essence of hospitality. Better a dinner of +herbs where love is than a stalled ox and hatred, +Egad,” returned my guest with easy irony.</p> +<p>All the resources of the courtier and the beau were +his. One could but admire the sparkle and the versatility +of the man. His wit was brilliant as the play +of a rapier’s point. Set down in cold blood, remembered +scantily and clumsily as I recall it, without the +gay easy polish of his manner, the fineness is all out +of his talk. After all ’tis a characteristic of much wit +that it is apposite to the occasion only and loses point +in the retelling.</p> +<p>He seated himself on the table with a leg dangling +in air and looked curiously around on the massive +masonry, the damp floor, the walls oozing slime. I +followed his eye and in some measure his thoughts.</p> +<p>“Stone walls do not a prison make,” I quoted gaily.</p> +<p>“Ecod, they make a pretty fair imitation of one!” +he chuckled.</p> +<p>I was prodigious glad to see him.</p> +<p>His presence stirred my sluggish blood. The sound +of his voice was to me like the crack of a whip to a +jaded horse. Graceful, careless, debonair, a man of +evil from sheer reckless wilfulness, he was the one +person in the world I found it in my heart to both +hate and admire at the same time. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_280' name='page_280'></a>280</span></p> +<p>He gazed long at me. “You’re looking devilish ill, +Montagu,” he said.</p> +<p>I smiled. “Are you afraid I’ll cheat the hangman +after all?”</p> +<p>His eyes wandered over the cell again. “By +Heaven, this death’s cage is enough to send any man +off the hooks,” he shivered.</p> +<p>“One gets used to it,” I answered, shrugging.</p> +<p>He looked at me with a kind of admiration. “They +may break you, Montagu, but I vow they will never +bend you. Here are you torn with illness, the shadow +of the gallows falling across your track, and never a +whimper out of you.”</p> +<p>“Would that avail to better my condition?”</p> +<p>“I suppose not. Still, self-pity is the very ecstasy +of grief, they tell me.”</p> +<p>“For girls and halfling boys, I dare say.”</p> +<p>There he sat cocked on the table, a picture of smiling +ease, raffish and fascinating, as full of sentimental +sympathy as a lass in her teens. His commiseration +was no less plain to me because it was hidden under a +debonair manner. He looked at me in a sidelong +fashion with a question in his eyes.</p> +<p>“Speak out!” I told him. “Your interest in me +as evidenced by this visit has earned the right to +satisfy your curiosity.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_281' name='page_281'></a>281</span></p> +<p>“I dare swear you have had your chance to save +yourself?” he asked.</p> +<p>“Oh, the usual offer! A life for a life, the opportunity +to save myself by betraying others.”</p> +<p>“Do you never dally with the thought of it?” he +questioned.</p> +<p>I looked up quickly at him. A hundred times I +had nursed the temptation and put it from me.</p> +<p>“Are you never afraid, Montagu, when the night +falls black and slumber is not to be wooed?”</p> +<p>“Many a time,” I told him, smiling.</p> +<p>“You say it as easily as if I had asked whether you +ever took the air in the park. ’Slife, I have never +known you flinch. There was always a certain d——d +rough plainness about you, but you play the game.”</p> +<p>“’Tis a poor hound falls whining at the whip when +there is no avoiding it.”</p> +<p>“You will never accept their offer of a pardon on +those terms. I know you, man. Y’are one of those +fools hold by honour rather than life, and damme! I +like you for it. Now I in your place——”</p> +<p>“——Would do as I do.”</p> +<p>“Would I? I’m not so sure. If I did it would be +no virtue, but an obstinacy not to be browbeat.” +Then he added, “You would give anything else on +earth for your life, I suppose?”</p> +<p>“Anything else,” I told him frankly. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_282' name='page_282'></a>282</span></p> +<p>“Anything else?” he repeated, his eyes narrowing. +“No reservations, Montagu?”</p> +<p>Our eyes crossed like rapiers, each searching into +the other’s very soul.</p> +<p>“Am I to understand that you are making me an +offer, Sir Robert?”</p> +<p>“I am making you an offer of your life.”</p> +<p>“Respectfully declined.”</p> +<p>“Think again, man! Once you are dead you will +be a long time dead. Refuse to give her up, and you +die; she is not for you in any case. Give way, and I +will move heaven and earth for a pardon. Believe me, +never was such perfect weather before. The birds +sing divinely, and Charles tells me Montagu Grange is +sorely needing a master.”</p> +<p>“Charles will look the part to admiration.”</p> +<p>“And doubtless will console himself in true +brotherly fashion for the loss of his brother by reciting +his merits on a granite shaft and straightway forgetting +them in the enjoyment of the estate.”</p> +<p>“I think it likely.”</p> +<p>He looked at me gloomily. “There is a way to +save you, despite your obstinacy.”</p> +<p>I shuffled across to him in a tumult of emotion. +“You would never do it, would never be so vile as to +trade on her fears for me to win her.”</p> +<p>“I would do anything to win her, and I would do a +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_283' name='page_283'></a>283</span> +great deal to save your life. The two things jump together. +In a way I like you, man.”</p> +<p>But I would have none of his liking. “Oh, spare +me that! You are the most sentimental villain unhung, +and I can get along without your liking.”</p> +<p>“That’s as may be,” said he laughing, “but I cannot +well get along without you. On my honour, you +have become one of my greatest sources of interest.”</p> +<p>“Do you mean that you would stake my life +against her hand?” I demanded whitely.</p> +<p>He gave me look for look. “I mean just that. By +Heaven, I shall win her fair or foul.”</p> +<p>I could only keep saying over and over again, “You +would never do it. Even you would never do that.”</p> +<p>“Wouldn’t I? You’ll see,” he answered laughing +hardily. “Well, I must be going. Oh, I had forgot. +Balmerino sent you this note. I called on him yesterday +at the Tower. The old Scotchman is still as full +of smiles as a bride.”</p> +<p>Balmerino’s letter was the friendliest imaginable. +He stated that for him a pardon was of course out of +the question, but that Sir Robert Volney had assured +him that there was a chance for me on certain conditions; +he understood that the conditions had to do +with the hand of a young woman, and he advised me, +if the thing were consistent with honour, to make submission, +and let no foolish pride stand in the way of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_284' name='page_284'></a>284</span> +saving my life. The letter ended with a touching reference +to the cause for which he was about to die.</p> +<p>I was shaken, I confess it. Not that I thought for +a moment of giving up my love, but my heart ached +to think of the cruel position into which she would be +cast. To save her lover’s life, she must forsake her +love, or if she elected the other alternative must send +him to his death. That Volney would let this burden +of choice fall on her I would scarce let myself believe; +and yet—there was never a man more madly, +hopelessly in love than he. His passion for her +was like a whirlwind tossing him hither and thither +like a chip on the boiling waters, but I thought it very +characteristic of the man that he used his influence to +have me moved to a more comfortable cell and supplied +with delicacies, even while he plotted against me +with my love.</p> +<p>After that first visit he used to come often and entertain +me with the news and gossip of the town. I +have never met a more interesting man. He was an +onlooker of life rather than an actor, an ironical cynic, +chuckling with sardonic humour. The secret of his +charm lay perhaps in a certain whimsical outlook and +in an original turn of mind.</p> +<p>Once I asked him why he found it worth while to +spend so many hours with me when his society was so +much sought after by the gayest circle in the town. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_285' name='page_285'></a>285</span></p> +<p>“I acquit you of any suspicion of philanthropy, Sir +Robert. I give you credit for pursuing a policy of +intelligent selfishness. You must know by this time +that I will not purchase my life, nor let it be purchased, +on the terms which you propose. Well then, +I confess it puzzles me to guess what amusement you +find in such a hole as this.”</p> +<p>“Variety spices life. What’s a man to do to keep +himself from ennui? For instance, I got up this morning +at ten, with Selwyn visited Lady Dapperwit while +she was drinking coffee in her nightrail, talked a vast +deal of scandal with her, strolled in the park with +Fritz, from there to White’s in a sedan, two hours at +lunch, and an hour with you for the good of my +soul.”</p> +<p>“The good of your soul?” I quizzed.</p> +<p>“Yes, I visit you here and then go away deuced +thankful for my mercies. I’m not to be hanged next +week, you know. I live to marry the girl.”</p> +<p>“Still, I should think you might find more interesting +spots than this.”</p> +<p>“I am a student of human nature, Montagu.”</p> +<p>“A condemned prisoner, never a wit at the best of +times, full of fears and agues and fevers! One would +scarce think the subject an inviting one for study.”</p> +<p>“There you do yourself injustice. Y’are the most +interesting man I know. A dozen characters are +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_286' name='page_286'></a>286</span> +wrapped up in you. You have the appearance of being +as great a rip as the rest of us, and I vow your +looks do not belie you, yet at times you have the conscience +of a ranting dissenter. I find in you a touch +both of Selwyn’s dry wit and of Balmerino’s frostly +bluntness; the cool daring of James Wolfe combined +with as great a love of life as Murray has shown; the +chivalry of Don Quixote and the hard-headedness of +Cumberland; sometimes an awkward boy, again the +grand manner Chesterfield himself might envy you; +the obstinacy of the devil and——”</p> +<p>“Oh, come!” I broke in laughing. “I don’t mind +being made a composite epitome of all the vices of +the race, but I object to your crossing the Styx on my +behalf.”</p> +<p>“And that reminds me of the time we came so +near crossing together,” he broke out, diverting the +subject in his inconsequent fashion. “D’ye remember +that Dr. Mead who dressed our wounds for us after +our little argument? It appears that he and a Dr. +Woodward fell into some professional dispute as to +how a case should be treated, and Lud! nothing +would satisfy them but they must get their toasting +forks into action. The story goes that they fought at +the gate of Gresham College. Mead pinked his man. +‘Take your life,’ quoth he. ‘Anything but your +medicine,’ returns Woodward just before he faints. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_287' name='page_287'></a>287</span> +Horry Walpole told me the story. I suppose you +have heard Selwyn’s story of Lord Wharton. You +know what a spendthrift Wharton is. Well the Duke +of Graftsbury offered him one of his daughters in +marriage, a lady of uncertain age and certain temper. +But the lady has one virtue; she’s a devilish fine +fortune. A plum, they say! Wharton wrote Graftsbury +a note of three lines declining the alliance because, +as he put it, the fortune was tied up and the +lady wasn’t.”</p> +<p>“Not bad. Talking of Selwyn, I suppose he gets +his fill of horrors these days.”</p> +<p>“One would think he might. I met him at the +Prince’s dinner yesterday, and between us we two +emptied nine bottles of maraschino. Conceive the +splitting headache I’m wearing to-day.”</p> +<p>“You should take a course in Jacobitism,” I told +him gravely. “’Tis warranted to cure gout, liver +trouble, indigestion, drunkenness, and sundry other +complaints. I can warrant that one lives simply while +he takes the treatment; sometimes on a crust of +bread and a bowl of brose, sometimes on water from +the burn, never does one dine over-richly.”</p> +<p>“Yet this course is not conducive to long life. +I’ve known a hundred followers of it fall victim to an +epidemic throat disease,” he retorted. Then he added +more gravely, “By the way, you need have no fears +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_288' name='page_288'></a>288</span> +for your friend Miss Flora Macdonald. I learn on the +best of authority that she is in no danger whatever.”</p> +<p>“And Malcolm?” I asked.</p> +<p>“His name has been put near the foot of the list +for trial. Long before that time the lust for blood +will be glutted. I shall make it a point to see that his +case never comes to trial. One cannot afford to have +his brother-in-law hanged like a common cutpurse.”</p> +<p>Day by day the time drew nearer on which my reprieve +expired. I saw nothing of Aileen now, for she +had followed the King and his court to Bath, intent on +losing no opportunity that might present itself in my +favour. For one reason I was glad to have her gone; +so long as she was out of town Sir Robert could not +urge on her the sacrifice which he intended.</p> +<p>The time of my execution had been set for Friday, +and on the preceding Monday Volney, just arrived +from the executions of Balmerino and Kilmarnock, +drove out to New Prison to see me. He was full of +admiration for Balmerino’s bold exit from the stage +of life and retailed to me with great gusto every +incident of the last scene on Tower Hill.</p> +<p>“I like your bluff Balmerino’s philosophy of life,” he +told me. “When I called on him and apologized for +intruding on the short time he had left the old Lord +said, ‘O sir, no intrusion at all. I am in no ways +concerned to spend more time than usual at my devotions. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_289' name='page_289'></a>289</span> +I think no man fit to live who is not fit to die, +and to die well is much the easier of the two.’ On the +scaffold no bridegroom could have been more cheerful. +He was dressed in his old blue campaign uniform and +was as bold and manly as ever. He expressed joy that +Cromartie had been pardoned, inspected with interest +the inscription on his coffin, and smilingly called the +block his pillow of rest. ’Pon honour, the intrepid +man then rehearsed the execution with his headsman, +kneeling down at the block to show how he would +give the signal for the blow. He then got up again, +made a tender smiling farewell with his friends, and +said to me, ‘I fear some will think my behaviour bold, +Volney, but remember what I say, that it arises from +confidence in God and a clear conscience.’ He reaffirmed +his unshaken adherence to the house of +Stuart, crying aloud, ‘God save King James!’ and +bowed to the multitude. Presently, still cheerfully, he +knelt at the block and said in a clear voice, ‘O Lord, +reward my friends, forgive my enemies, bless Prince +Charles and his brother, the Duke, and receive my +soul.’ His arms dropped for the signal, and Arthur +Elphinstone of Balmerino passed to the Valhalla where +brave men dwell as gods.”</p> +<p>“God bring peace to his valiant restless soul,” I said, +much moved.</p> +<p>“’Tis a thing to admire, the sturdy loyalty of you +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_290' name='page_290'></a>290</span> +Jacobites,” he said after a pause. “You carry it off +like gentlemen. Every poor Highlander who has yet +suffered has flung out his ‘God save King James’ on +the scaffold. Now I’ll wager you too go to death +with the grand air—no canting prayers for King +George, eh?”</p> +<p>“I must e’en do as the rest,” I smiled.</p> +<p>“Yet I’d bet a pony you don’t care a pinch of +snuff for James Stuart. ’Tis loyalty to yourselves +that animates you.”</p> +<p>Presently he harked back to the topic that was +never closed between us.</p> +<p>“By this time next week you will have touched the +heart of our eternal problem. The mystery of it will +perhaps be all clear to you then. ’Tis most strange +how at one sweep all a man’s turbulent questing life +passes into the quiet of—of what? That is the +question: of unending death or of achieved knowledge?” +Then he added, coming abruptly to the +issue: “The day draws near. Do you think better +of my offer now?”</p> +<p>“Sir Robert, I have lived a tempestuous life these +past months. I have known hunger and cold and +weariness; I have been at the top of fortune’s wave +and at the bottom; but I have never found it worth my +while to become divorced from honour. You find me +near dead from privations and disease. Do you think +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_291' name='page_291'></a>291</span> +I would pay so much for such an existence? Believe +me, when a man has passed through what I have he +is empty of fears.”</p> +<p>“I could better spare a better man,” he said.</p> +<p>“Sorry to inconvenience you,” I told him grimly.</p> +<p>“I’ faith, I think you’re destined to do that dead or +alive.”</p> +<p>“I think I am. You will find me more in your +way dead than alive.”</p> +<p>“I’ll outlive your memory, never fear.” Then +quietly, after a moment’s hesitation: “There’s one +thing it may be a comfort for you to know. I’ve given +up any thought of putting her on the rack. I’ll win +fairly or not at all.”</p> +<p>I drew a deep free breath. “Thank you for telling +me.”</p> +<p>“I mean to marry her though. I swear to you, +Montagu, that my heart is wrapped up in her. I +thought all women alike until I met this one. Now I +know better. She could have made a different man +of me; sometimes I think she could even yet. I vow +to you I would not now injure a hair of her head, +but willy-nilly, in the end I shall marry the girl.”</p> +<p>“To ruin her life?”</p> +<p>“To save mine rather.”</p> +<p>“Do you think yourself able to change the whole +course of your life for her?” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_292' name='page_292'></a>292</span></p> +<p>He mused. “Ah, Montagu! There your finger +falls pat on the pulse of my doubt. My heart cries +aye, my reason gives a negative.”</p> +<p>“Don’t worry overmuch about it,” I answered, railing +at him. “She’ll never look at you, man. My +grave will be an insurmountable barrier. She will +idealize my memory, think me a martyr and herself a +widowed maid.”</p> +<p>The shot scored. ’Twas plain he must have often +thought of that himself.</p> +<p>“It may interest you to know that we are engaged +to be married,” I added.</p> +<p>“Indeed! Let me congratulate you. When does +the happy event occur, may I ask? Or is the day +set?”</p> +<p>He had no need to put into words more clearly the +irony of the fate that encompassed us.</p> +<p>“Dead or alive, as you say, I bar your way,” I said +tartly.</p> +<p>“Pooh, man! I give you six weeks of violent grief, +six months of tender melancholy.”</p> +<p>“You do not know the Scotch. She will die a +maid,” I answered.</p> +<p>“Not she! A live lover is more present than a +dead one. Has she sworn pretty vows to you, Montagu? +‘At lovers’ perjuries, they say, love laughs.’ +Is there nothing to be said for me? Will her heart +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_293' name='page_293'></a>293</span> +not always whisper that I deserve gratitude and love, +that I perilled my life for her, saved the lives of her +brother and her lover, neither of them friends of mine, +again reprieved her lover’s life, stood friend to her +through all her trouble? You know a woman’s way—to +make much of nothing.”</p> +<p>“Forgive, if I prod a lagging memory, Miss Westerleigh?”</p> +<p>Long he laughed and merrily.</p> +<p>“Eloped for Gretna Green with Tony Creagh last +night, and I, poor forsaken swain, faith! I do not +pursue.”</p> +<p>You may be sure that dashed me. I felt as a +trapped fox with the dogs closing in. The future +loomed up clear before me, Aileen hand in hand with +Volney scattering flowers on my grave in sentimental +mood. The futility of my obstinacy made me +bitter.</p> +<p>“Come, Montagu! Listen to reason,” urged the +tempter. “You get in my way, but I don’t want to +let you be sponged out. The devil of it is that if I +get you a pardon—and I’m not sure that I can get it—you’ll +marry the girl. I might have you shipped +to the Barbadoes as a slave with some of the others, +but to be frank I had rather see you hanged than give +you so scurvy an end. Forswear what is already lost +and make an end of it.” +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_294' name='page_294'></a>294</span></p> +<p>I turned away blackly. “You have my answer. +Sir Robert, you have played your last card. Now let +me die in peace.”</p> +<p>He shrugged impatiently and left me. “A fool’s +answer, yet a brave man’s too,” he muttered.</p> +<p>Aileen, heart-broken with the failure of her mission, +reached town on Thursday and came at once to the +prison. Her face was as the face of troubled waters. +I had no need to ask the question on my lips. With +a sobbing cry she threw herself on my breast. My +heart was woe for her. Utter weariness was in her +manner. All through the long days and nights she +had agonized, and now at last despaired. There +seemed no tears left to shed.</p> +<p>Long I held her tight, teeth set, as one who would +keep his own perforce from that grim fate which +would snatch his love from him. She shivered to me +half-swooning, pale and of wondrous beauty, nesting +in my arms as a weary homing-bird. A poignant +grief o’erflowed in me.</p> +<p>“Oh, Aileen! At least we have love left,” I cried, +breaking the long silence.</p> +<p>“Always! Always!” her white lips answered.</p> +<p>“Then let us regret nothing. They can do with +me what they will. What are life and death when in +the balance dwells love?” I cried, rapt in unearthly +worship of her. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_295' name='page_295'></a>295</span></p> +<p>Her eyes found mine. “Oh, Kenneth, I cannot—I +cannot—let you go.”</p> +<p>Sweet and lovely she was beyond the dream of +poet. I trembled in an ecstasy of pain. From the +next cell there came to us softly the voice of a poor +condemned Appin Stewart. He was crooning that +most tender and heart-breaking of all strains. Like +the pibroch’s mournful sough he wailed it out, the +song that cuts deep to a Scotchman’s heart in time of +exile.</p> +<table summary='poetry' style='margin:0 auto'><tr><td> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.0em;'>“Lochabar no more, Lochabar no more.</p> +<p style='margin: 0 0 0 0.735835172921266em;'>We’ll maybe return to Lochabar no more.”</p> +</td></tr></table> + +<p>I looked at Aileen, my face working. A long +breath came whistling through her lips. Her dear +face was all broken with emotion. I turned my eyes +aside, not daring to trust myself. Through misty +lashes again I looked. Her breast lifted and fell in +shaking sobs, the fount of tears touched at last. Together +we wept, without shame I admit it, while the +Stewart’s harrowing strain ebbed to a close. To us it +seemed almost as the keening of the coronach.</p> +<p>So in the quiet that comes after storm, her dear +supple figure still in my arms, Sir Robert Volney +came in unexpectedly and found us. He stopped at +the door, startled at her presence, and methought a +shadow fell on his face. Near to death as I was, the +quality of his courage was so fine and the strength of +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_296' name='page_296'></a>296</span> +the passion in him so great that he would have +changed places with me even then.</p> +<p>Aileen went up to him at once and gave him her +hand. She was very simple, her appeal like a child’s +for directness.</p> +<p>“Sir Robert, you have already done much for me. +I will be so bold as to ask you to do more. Here iss +my lover’s life in danger. I ask you to save it.”</p> +<p>“That he may marry you?”</p> +<p>“If God wills.”</p> +<p>Volney looked at her out of a haggard face, all +broken by the emotions which stirred him.</p> +<p>A minute passed, two minutes. He fought out his +fight and won.</p> +<p>“Aileen,” he said at last, “before heaven I fear it is +too late, but what man can do, that will I do.”</p> +<p>He came in and shook hands with me. “I’ll say +good-bye, Montagu. ’Tis possible I’ll see you but +once more in this world. Yet I will do my best. +Don’t hope too much, but don’t despair.”</p> +<p>There was unconscious prophecy in his words. I +was to see him but the once more, and then the +proud, gallant gentleman, now so full of energy, was +lying on his deathbed struck out of life by a foul +blow.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='XVIII_THE_SHADOW_FALLS' id='XVIII_THE_SHADOW_FALLS'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_297' name='page_297'></a>297</span> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<h3>THE SHADOW FALLS</h3> +</div> + +<p>It would appear that Sir Robert went direct from +the prison to the club room at White’s. He was +observed to be gloomy, preoccupied, his manner +not a little perturbed. The usual light smile was completely +clouded under a gravity foreign to his nature. +One may guess that he was in no humour to carry +coals. In a distant corner of the room he seated himself +and fell to frowning at the table on which his +elbow rested. At no time was he a man upon whom +one would be likely to foist his company undesired, +for he had at command on occasion a hauteur and an +aloofness that challenged respect even from the most +inconsiderate.</p> +<p>We must suppose that he was moved out of his +usual indifference, that some long-dormant spring of +nobility was quickened to a renewed life, that a girl’s +truth and purity, refining his selfish passion, had bitten +deep into the man’s callous worldliness. For long he +sat in a sombre silence with his head leaning on his +hand, his keen mind busy with the problem—so I shall +always believe—as to how he might even yet save +me from the gallows. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_298' name='page_298'></a>298</span></p> +<p>By some strange hap it chanced that Sir James +Craven, excited with drink, the bile of his saturnine +temper stirred to malignity by heavy losses at cards, +alighted from his four in hand at White’s shortly after +Volney. Craven’s affairs had gone from bad to worse +very rapidly of late. He had been playing the races +heavily and ruin stared the man in the face. More +than suspected of dubious play at cards, it had been +scarce a week since the stewards of a leading racetrack +had expelled him for running crosses. Any day a +debtor’s prison might close on him. Within the hour, +as was afterward learned, his former companion Frederick +Prince of Wales had given him the cut direct on +the Mall. Plainly his star was on the decline, and he +raged in a futile passion of hatred against the world. +Need it be said that of all men he most hated his supplanter +in the Prince of Wales’ good-will, Sir Robert +Volney.</p> +<p>To Volney then, sitting gloomily in his distant solitude, +came Craven with murder in his heart and a +bitter jest on his lips. At the other side of the table +he found a seat and glared across at his rival out of a +passion-contorted face. Sir Robert looked past him +coldly, negligently, as if he had not been there, and +rising from his seat moved to the other side of the +room. In the manner of his doing it there was something +indescribably insulting; so it seemed to Topham +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_299' name='page_299'></a>299</span> +Beauclerc, who retailed to me the story +later.</p> +<p>Craven’s evil glance followed Volney, rage in his +bloodshot eyes. If a look could kill, the elegant macaroni +had been a dead man then. It is to be guessed +that Craven struggled with his temper and found himself +not strong enough to put a curb upon it; that his +heady stress of passion swept away his fear of Volney’s +sword. At all events there he sat glowering blackly +on the man at whose charge he chose to lay all his +misfortunes, what time he gulped down like water +glass after glass of brandy. Presently he got to his +feet and followed Sir Robert, still dallying no doubt +with the fascinating temptation of fixing a quarrel +upon his rival and killing him. To do him justice +Volney endeavoured to avoid an open rupture with the +man. He appeared buried in the paper he was reading.</p> +<p>“What news?” asked Craven abruptly.</p> +<p>For answer the other laid down the paper, so that +Sir James could pick it up if he chose.</p> +<p>“I see your old rival Montagu is to dance on air +to-morrow. ’Gad, you’ll have it all your own way +with the wench then,” continued Craven boisterously, +the liquor fast mounting to his head.</p> +<p>Volney’s eyes grew steelly. He would have left, +but the burly purple-faced baronet cut off his retreat. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_300' name='page_300'></a>300</span></p> +<p>“Damme, will you drink with me, or will you play +with me, Volney?”</p> +<p>“Thanks, but I never drink nor play at this time of +day, Sir James. If it will not inconvenience you to +let me pass——”</p> +<p>With a foolish laugh, beside himself with rage and +drink, Craven flung him back into his chair. +“’Sdeath, don’t be in such a hurry! I want to talk to +you about— Devil take it, what is it I want to talk +about?— Oh, yes! That pink and white baggage of +yours. Stap me, the one look ravished me! Pity +you let a slip of a lad like Montagu oust you.”</p> +<p>“That subject is one which we will not discuss, Sir +James,” said Volney quietly. “It is not to be mentioned +in my presence.”</p> +<p>“The devil it isn’t. I’m not in the habit of asking +what I may talk about. As for this mistress of +yours——”</p> +<p>Sir Robert rose and stood very straight. “I have +the honour to inform you that you are talking of a +lady who is as pure as the driven snow.”</p> +<p>Buck Craven stared. “After Sir Robert Volney +has pursued her a year?” he asked with venomous +spleen, his noisy laugh echoing through the room.</p> +<p>I can imagine how the fellow said it, with what a +devilish concentration of malice. He had the most +irritating manner of any man in England; I never +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_301' name='page_301'></a>301</span> +heard him speak without wanting to dash my fist in +his sneering face.</p> +<p>“That is what I tell you. I repeat that the subject +is not a matter for discussion between us.”</p> +<p>Craven might have read a warning in the studied +gentleness of Volney’s cold manner, but he was by +this time far beyond reck. By common consent the +eyes of every man in the room were turned on these +two, and Craven’s vanity sunned itself at holding once +more the centre of the stage.</p> +<p>“And after the trull has gadded about the country +with young Montagu in all manner of disguises?” he +continued.</p> +<p>“You lie, you hound!”</p> +<p>Sir James sputtered in a speechless paroxysm of +passion, found words at last and poured them out in a +turbid torrent of invective. He let fall the word +baggage again, and presently, growing more plain, a +word that is not to be spoken of an honest woman. +Volney, eyeing him disdainfully, the man’s coarse +bulk, his purple cheeks and fishy eyes, played with +his wine goblet, white fingers twisting at the stem; +then, when the measure of the fellow’s offense was +full, put a period to his foul eloquence.</p> +<p>Full in the mouth the goblet struck him. Blood +spurted from his lips, and a shower of broken glass +shivered to the ground. Craven leaped across the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_302' name='page_302'></a>302</span> +table at his enemy in a blind fury; restrained by the +united efforts of half a dozen club members, the +struggling madman still foamed to get at his rival’s +throat—that rival whose disdainful eyes seemed to +count him but a mad dog impotent to bite.</p> +<p>“You would not drink with me; you would not play +with me; but, by God, you will have to fight with me,” +he cried at last.</p> +<p>“When you please.”</p> +<p>“Always I have hated you, wanted always to kill +you, now I shall do it,” he screamed.</p> +<p>Volney turned on his heel and beckoned to +Beauclerc.</p> +<p>“Will you act for me, Topham?” he asked; and +when the other assented, added: “Arrange the affair +to come off as soon as possible. I want to have done +with the thing at once.”</p> +<p>They fought within the hour in the Field of the +Forty Footsteps. The one was like fire, the other ice. +They were both fine swordsmen, but there was no man +in England could stand against Volney at his best, +and those who were present have put it on record that +Sir Robert’s skill was this day at high water mark. +He fought quite without passion, watching with cool +alertness for his chance to kill. His opponent’s breath +came short, his thrusts grew wild, the mad rage of the +man began to give way to a no less mad despair. +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_303' name='page_303'></a>303</span> +Every feint he found anticipated, every stroke parried; +and still his enemy held to the defensive with a deadly +cold watchfulness that struck chill to the heart of the +fearful bully. We are to conceive that Craven tasted +the bitterness of death, that in the cold passionless face +opposite to him he read his doom, and that in the +horrible agony of terror that sweated him he forgot +the traditions of his class and the training of a lifetime. +He stumbled, and when Sir Robert held his hand, +waiting point groundward with splendid carelessness +for his opponent to rise, Craven flung himself forward +on his knees and thrust low at him. The blade went +home through the lower vitals.</p> +<p>Volney stood looking at him a moment with a face +of infinite contempt, than sank back into the arms of +Beauclerc.</p> +<p>While the surgeon was examining the wound +Craven stole forward guiltily to the outskirts of the +little group which surrounded the wounded man. His +horror-stricken eyes peered out of a face like chalk. +The man’s own second had just turned his back on +him, and he was already realizing that the foul stroke +had written on his forehead the brand of Cain, had +made him an outcast and a pariah on the face of the +earth.</p> +<p>The eyes of Volney and his murderer met, those of +the dying man full of scorn. Craven’s glance fell before +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_304' name='page_304'></a>304</span> +that steady look. He muttered a hope that the +wound was but slight; then, in torture, burst out: +“’Twas a slip. By Heaven, it was, Volney! I would +to God it were undone.”</p> +<p>“‘To every coward safety, and afterward his evil +hour,’” quoted Volney with cold disdain.</p> +<p>The murderer turned away with a sobbing oath, +mounted his horse and rode for the coast to begin his +lifetime of exile, penury, and execration.</p> +<p>“Do I get my passport?” asked Sir Robert of the +surgeon.</p> +<p>The latter began to talk a jargon of medical terms, +but Volney cut him short.</p> +<p>“Enough! I understand,” he said quietly. “Get +me to my rooms and send at once for the Prince of +Wales. Beauclerc, may I trouble you to call on +Cumberland and get from him an order to bring +young Montagu to my place from the prison? And +will you send my man Watkins for a lawyer? Oh, +and one more commission—a messenger to beg of +Miss Macleod her attendance. In case she demurs, +make it plain to her that I am a dying man. Faith, +Topham, you’ll be glad I do not die often. I fear I +am an unconscionable nuisance at it.”</p> +<p>Topham Beauclerc drove straight to the residence of +the Duke of Cumberland. He found the Duke at +home, explained the situation in a few words, and +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_305' name='page_305'></a>305</span> +presently the pair of them called on the Duke of Newcastle +and secured his counter-signature for taking me +temporarily from the New Prison. Dusk was falling +when Beauclerc and the prison guards led me to Volney’s +bedroom. At the first glance I saw plainly that +he was not long for this world. He lay propped on an +attendant’s arm, the beautiful eyes serene, an inscrutable +smile on the colourless lips. Beside him sat +Aileen, her hand in his, and on the other side of the +bed the Duke of Cumberland and Malcolm. When he +saw me his eyes brightened.</p> +<p>“On time, Kenneth. Thanks for coming.”</p> +<p>Beauclerc had told me the story, and I went forward +with misty eyes. He looked at me smiling.</p> +<p>“On my soul I believe you are sorry, Montagu. +Yes, I have my quietus. The fellow struck foul. My +own fault! I always knew him for a scoundrel. I +had him beaten; but ’tis better so perhaps. After all +I shall cross the river before you, Kenneth.” Then +abruptly to an attendant who entered the room, “Has +the Prince come yet?”</p> +<p>“But this moment, sir.”</p> +<p>The Prince of Wales entered the room, and Volney +gave him his old winsome smile.</p> +<p>“Hard hit, your Highness!”</p> +<p>“I trust it is not so bad as they say, Robert.”</p> +<p>“Bad or good, as one looks at it, but this night I +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_306' name='page_306'></a>306</span> +go wandering into the great unknown. Enough of +this. I sent for you, Fritz, to ask my last favour.”</p> +<p>The face of the stolid Dutchman was all broken +with emotion.</p> +<p>“’Tis yours, Robert, if the thing is mine to grant.”</p> +<p>“I want Montagu spared. You must get his pardon +before I die, else I shall not pass easy in mind. +This one wrong I must right before the end. ’Twas +I drove him to rebellion. You will get him pardoned +and see to it that his estates are not confiscated?”</p> +<p>“I promise to do my best. It shall be attended to.”</p> +<p>“To-day?”</p> +<p>“This very hour if it can be arranged.”</p> +<p>“And you, Cumberland, will do your share.”</p> +<p>The Duke nodded, frowning to hide his emotion.</p> +<p>Volney fell back on the pillows. “Good! Where +is the priest?”</p> +<p>A vicar of the Church of England came forward to +offer the usual ministrations to the dying. Volney +listened for a minute or two with closed eyes, then interrupted +gently.</p> +<p>“Thank you. That will suffice. I’ll never insult +my Maker by fawning for pardon in the fag hour of a +misspent life.”</p> +<p>“The mercy of God is without limits——”</p> +<p>“I hope so. That I shall know better than you +within the space of four-and-twenty hours. I’m +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_307' name='page_307'></a>307</span> +afraid you mistake your mission here. You came to +marry Antony, not to bury Cæsar.” Then, turning +to me, he said with a flare of his old reckless wit: +“Any time this six weeks you’ve been qualifying for +the noose. If you’re quite ready we’ll have the obsequies +to-night.”</p> +<p>He put Aileen’s hand in mine. The vicar married +us, the Prince of Wales giving away the bride. +Aileen’s pale face was shot with a faint flush, a splash +of pink in either alabaster cheek. When the priest +had made us man and wife she, who had just married +me, leaned forward impulsively and kissed our former +enemy on the forehead. The humorous gleam came +back to his dulling eyes.</p> +<p>“Only one, Montagu. I dare say you can spare +that. The rest are for a better man. Don’t cry, +Aileen. ’Fore Heaven, ’tis a good quittance for +you.”</p> +<p>He looked at the soft warmth and glow of her, now +quickened to throbbing life, drew a long breath, then +smiled and sighed again, her lover even to the last.</p> +<p>A long silence fell, which Sir Robert broke by saying +with a smile, “In case Selwyn calls show him up. +If I am still alive I’ll want to see him, and if I’m dead +he’ll want to see me. ’Twill interest him vastly.”</p> +<p>Once more only he spoke. “The shadow falls,” he +said to Aileen, and presently dozed fitfully; so slipped +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_308' name='page_308'></a>308</span> +gradually into the deeper sleep from which there is no +awakening this side of the tomb. Thus he passed +quietly to the great beyond, an unfearing cynic to the +last hour of his life.</p> +<hr class='major' /> +<div style='margin: auto; text-align: center; padding-top: 2em; padding-bottom: 1em'> +<a name='THE_AFTERWORD' id='THE_AFTERWORD'></a> +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_309' name='page_309'></a>309</span> + +<h3>THE AFTERWORD</h3> +</div> + +<p>My pardon came next day, duly signed and +sealed, with the customary rider to it that I +must renounce the Stuarts, and swear allegiance +to King George. I am no hero of romance, +but a plain Englishman, a prosaic lover of roast beef +and old claret, of farming and of fox-hunting. Our +cause was dead, and might as well be buried. Not to +make long of the matter, I took the oath without +scruple. To my pardon there was one other proviso: +that I must live on my estate until further notice. If +at any time I were found ten miles from Montagu +Grange, the pardon was to be void.</p> +<p>Aileen and I moved to our appointed home at once. +It may be believed that our hearts were full of the +most tender joy and love, for I had been snatched +from the jaws of death into the very sunshine of life. +We had but one cloud to mar the bright light—the +death of many a dear friend, and most of all, of that +friendly enemy who had given his life for her good +name. Moralists point out to me that he was +a great sinner. I care not if it be so. Let others +condemn him; I do not. Rather I cherish the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_310' name='page_310'></a>310</span> +memory of a gallant, faultful gentleman whose life +found wrong expression. There be some to whom +are given inheritance of evil nature. Then how dare +we, who know not the measure of their temptation, +make ourselves judges of their sin?</p> +<p>At the Grange we found awaiting us an unexpected +visitor, a red-haired, laughing Highlander, who, though +in hiding, was as full of merriment as a schoolboy +home for the holidays. To Cloe he made most ardent +love, and when, at last, Donald Roy slipped across the +waters to St. Germains, he carried with him a promise +that was redeemed after the general amnesty was +passed.</p> +<p>Six weeks after my pardon Malcolm Macleod and +Miss Flora Macdonald stopped at the Grange for a +short visit with us. They were on their way north, +having been at length released without a trial, since +the passion for blood was now spent.</p> +<p>“We three, with Captain Donald Roy and Tony +Creagh, came to London to be hangit,” smiled Major +Macleod as they were about to resume their journey. +“Twa-three times the rope tightened around the +gullets of some of us, yet in the end we all win free. +You and Tony have already embraced the other +noose; Donald is in a geyan ill way, writing Latin +verses to his lady’s eyes; and as for me,”—he +smiled boldly at his companion—“I ride to the +<span class='pagenum pncolor'><a id='page_311' name='page_311'></a>311</span> +land of heather side by side with Miss Flora Macdonald.”</p> +<p>Here I drop the quill, for my tale is told. For me, +life is full of many quiet interests and much happiness, +but even now there grips me at times a longing +for those mad wild days, when death hung on a hair’s +breadth, and the glamour of romance beckoned the +feathered foot of youth.</p> +<div class='ce'> +<p>FINIS</p> +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DAUGHTER OF RAASAY ***</div> +<div style='text-align:left'> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will +be renamed. +</div> + +<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> +Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright +law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, +so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United +States without permission and without paying copyright +royalties. 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