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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -</style> -<title>JOHN BURNET OF BARNS</title> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="John Burnet of Barns" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="John Buchan" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1899" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="40014" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2012-06-17" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="John Burnet of Barns A Romance" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="John Burnet of Barns A Romance" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="burnet.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" name="DCTERMS.language" /> -<meta content="2012-06-17T17:49:06.002304+00:00" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.modified" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40014" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="John Buchan" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2012-06-17" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" name="DCTERMS.created" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="EpubMaker 0.3.19b4 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -<style type="text/css"> -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="john-burnet-of-barns"> -<h1 class="document-title level-1 pfirst title">JOHN BURNET OF BARNS</h1> - -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="align-None container language-en noindent pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst">This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere 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 <a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a> -included with this eBook or online at -<a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a>.</p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None container noindent white-space-pre-line" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst white-space-pre-line"><span class="white-space-pre-line">Title: John Burnet of Barns<br /> - A Romance<br /> -<br /> -Author: John Buchan<br /> -<br /> -Release Date: June 17, 2012 [EBook #40014]<br /> -<br /> -Language: English<br /> -<br /> -Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line">*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>JOHN BURNET OF BARNS</span> ***</p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="noindent vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container titlepage white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line x-large">John Burnet of Barns</p> -<p class="large pnext white-space-pre-line"><em class="italics white-space-pre-line">A Romance</em></p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst small white-space-pre-line">BY</p> -<p class="large pnext white-space-pre-line">JOHN BUCHAN</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst white-space-pre-line">TORONTO:<br /> -THE COPP, CLARK COMPANY, LIMITED.<br /> -1899.</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container verso white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="center pfirst small white-space-pre-line">Copyright, 1898<br /> -BY JOHN LANE</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line">Entered according to Act of the Parliament of Canada, in the year one<br /> -thousand eight hundred and ninety-nine, by THE COPP CLARK<br /> -COMPANY, LIMITED, Toronto, in the Office of the Minister of Agriculture.</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="align-None center container dedication white-space-pre-line"> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line">TO THE MEMORY OF<br /> -MY SISTER<br /> -VIOLET KATHARINE STUART</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line">[Greek: Astêr prìn mèn élampes eni zôoìsin Heôos,<br /> -nun dè oanôn lámpeis Hesperos en phthiménois.]</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst white-space-pre-line">[Transcriber's note: the above Greek was transcribed<br /> -from a poor-quality scan, so may not be quite correct]</p> -<div class="vspace white-space-pre-line" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">Contents</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">BOOK I—TWEEDDALE</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="left medium pfirst">CHAPTER</p> -<ol class="left medium upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-adventure-which-befell-me-in-the-wood-of-dawyck">THE ADVENTURE WHICH BEFELL ME IN THE WOOD OF DAWYCK</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-house-of-barns">THE HOUSE OF BARNS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-spate-in-tweed">THE SPATE IN TWEED</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-go-to-the-college-at-glasgow">I GO TO THE COLLEGE AT GLASGOW</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#cousinly-affection">COUSINLY AFFECTION</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-master-gilbert-burnet-played-a-game-and-was-checkmated">HOW MASTER GILBERT BURNET PLAYED A GAME AND WAS CHECKMATED</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-pegasus-inn-at-peebles-and-how-a-stranger-returned-from-the-wars">THE PEGASUS INN AT PEEBLES AND HOW A STRANGER RETURNED FROM THE WARS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-take-leave-of-my-friends">I TAKE LEAVE OF MY FRIENDS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-ride-out-on-my-travels-and-find-a-companion">I RIDE OUT ON MY TRAVELS AND FIND A COMPANION</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">BOOK II—THE LOW COUNTRIES</p> -<ol class="left medium upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#of-my-voyage-to-the-low-countries">OF MY VOYAGE TO THE LOW COUNTRIES</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-visit-master-peter-wishart">I VISIT MASTER PETER WISHART</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-story-of-a-supper-party">THE STORY OF A SUPPER PARTY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#our-adventure-on-the-alphen-road">OUR ADVENTURE ON THE ALPHEN ROAD</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-first-sunday-of-march">THE FIRST SUNDAY OF MARCH</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-first-monday-of-march">THE FIRST MONDAY OF MARCH</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-spend-my-days-in-idleness">I SPEND MY DAYS IN IDLENESS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-coming-of-the-brig-seamaw">THE COMING OF THE BRIG SEAMAW</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#an-account-of-my-home-coming">AN ACCOUNT OF MY HOME-COMING</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">BOOK III—THE HILLMEN</p> -<ol class="left medium upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-pier-o-leith">THE PIER O' LEITH</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-i-rode-to-the-south">HOW I RODE TO THE SOUTH</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-house-of-dawyck">THE HOUSE OF DAWYCK</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-michael-veitch-met-his-end">HOW MICHAEL VEITCH MET HIS END</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-claim-a-promise-and-we-seek-the-hills">I CLAIM A PROMISE, AND WE SEEK THE HILLS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-cave-of-the-cor-water">THE CAVE OF THE COR WATER</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-two-of-his-majesty-s-servants-met-with-their-deserts">HOW TWO OF HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS MET WITH THEIR DESERTS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#of-our-wanderings-among-the-moors-of-clyde">OF OUR WANDERINGS AMONG THE MOORS OF CLYDE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-part-from-marjory">I PART FROM MARJORY</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#of-the-man-with-the-one-eye-and-the-encounter-in-the-green-cleuch">OF THE MAN WITH THE ONE EYE AND THE ENCOUNTER IN THE GREEN CLEUCH</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-a-miller-strove-with-his-own-mill-wheel">HOW A MILLER STROVE WITH HIS OWN MILL-WHEEL</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-witness-a-valiant-ending">I WITNESS A VALIANT ENDING</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-run-a-narrow-escape-for-my-life">I RUN A NARROW ESCAPE FOR MY LIFE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-fall-in-with-strange-friends">I FALL IN WITH STRANGE FRIENDS</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-baillies-of-no-man-s-land">THE BAILLIES OF NO MAN'S LAND</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-three-men-held-a-town-in-terror">HOW THREE MEN HELD A TOWN IN TERROR</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#of-the-fight-in-the-moss-of-biggar">OF THE FIGHT IN THE MOSS OF BIGGAR</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#smitwood">SMITWOOD</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">BOOK IV—THE WESTLANDS</p> -<ol class="left medium upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-hear-no-good-in-the-inn-at-the-fords-o-clyde">I HEAR NO GOOD IN THE INN AT THE FORDS O' CLYDE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#an-old-journey-with-a-new-errand">AN OLD JOURNEY WITH A NEW ERRAND</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-house-with-the-chipped-gables">THE HOUSE WITH THE CHIPPED GABLES</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#up-hill-and-down-dale">UP HILL AND DOWN DALE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#eaglesham">EAGLESHAM</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-make-my-peace-with-gilbert-burnet">I MAKE MY PEACE WITH GILBERT BURNET</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#of-a-voice-in-the-eventide">OF A VOICE IN THE EVENTIDE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#how-nicol-plenderleith-sought-his-fortune-elsewhere">HOW NICOL PLENDERLEITH SOUGHT HIS FORTUNE ELSEWHERE</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-end-of-all-things">THE END OF ALL THINGS</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst x-large" id="the-adventure-which-befell-me-in-the-wood-of-dawyck">John Burnet of Barns</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">BOOK I—TWEEDDALE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">CHAPTER I</p> -<div class="center medium vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">THE ADVENTURE WHICH BEFELL ME IN THE WOOD OF DAWYCK</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I have taken in hand to write this, the history of -my life, not without much misgiving of heart; for my -memory at the best is a bad one, and of many things -I have no clear remembrance. And the making of -tales is an art unknown to me, so he who may read -must not look for any great skill in the setting down. -Yet I am emboldened to the work, for my life has been -lived in stirring times and amid many strange scenes -which may not wholly lack interest for those who live -in quieter days. And above all, I am desirous that they -of my family should read of my life and learn the -qualities both good and bad which run in the race, and -so the better be able to resist the evil and do the good.</p> -<p class="pnext">My course, by the will of God, has had something -of a method about it, which makes the telling the -more easy. For, as I look back upon it from the -vantage ground of time, all seems spread out plain and -clear in an ordered path. And I would but seek to -trace again some portion of the way with the light of -a dim memory.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I will begin my tale with a certain June morning -in the year 1678, when I, scarcely turned twelve -years, set out from the house of Barns to the fishing -in Tweed. I had escaped the watchful care of my -tutor, Master Robert Porter, the curate of Lyne, who -vexed my soul thrice a week with Cæsar and Cicero. -I had no ill-will to the Latin, for I relished the -battles in Cæsar well enough, and had some liking for -poetry; but when I made a slip in grammar he would -bring his great hand over my ears in a way which -would make them tingle for hours. And all this, -mind you, with the sun coming in at the window and -whaups whistling over the fields and the great fish -plashing in the river. On this morn I had escaped -by hiding in the cheese-closet; then I had fetched my -rod from the stable-loft, and borrowed tackle from -Davie Lithgow, the stableman; and now I was creeping -through the hazel bushes, casting, every now and -then, a glance back at the house, where the huge -figure of my teacher was looking for me disconsolately -in every corner.</p> -<p class="pnext">The year had been dry and sultry; and this day was -warmer than any I remembered. The grass in the -meadow was browned and crackling; all the foxgloves -hung their bells with weariness; and the waters were -shrunken in their beds. The mill-lade, which drives -Manor Mill, had not a drop in it, and the small trout -were gasping in the shallow pool, which in our usual -weather was five feet deep. The cattle were <em class="italics">stertling</em>, -as we called it in the countryside; that is, the sun -was burning their backs, and, rushing with tails erect, -they sought coolness from end to end of the field. -Tweed was very low and clear. Small hope, I -thought, for my fishing; I might as well have stayed -with Master Porter and been thrashed, for I will have -to stay out all day and go supperless at night.</p> -<p class="pnext">I took my way up the river past the green slopes -of Haswellsykes to the wood of Dawyck, for I knew -well that there, if anywhere, the fish would take in -the shady, black pools. The place was four weary -miles off, and the day was growing hotter with each -passing hour; so I stripped my coat and hid it in a -hole among whins and stones. When I come home -again, I said, I will recover it. Another half mile, -and I had off my shoes and stockings and concealed -them in a like place; so soon I plodded along with -no other clothes on my body than shirt and ragged -breeches.</p> -<p class="pnext">In time I came to the great forest which stretches -up Tweed nigh to Drummelzier, the greatest wood in -our parts, unless it be Glentress, on the east side -of Peebles. The trees were hazels and birches in -the main, with a few rowans, and on the slopes of the -hill a congregation of desolate pines. Nearer the -house of Dawyck were beeches and oaks and the -deeper shade, and it was thither I went. The top -of my rod struck against the boughs, and I had some -labour in steering a safe course between the Scylla of -the trees and the Charybdis of the long brackens; for -the rod was in two parts spliced together, and as I had -little skill in splicing, Davie had done the thing for -me before I started. Twice I roused a cock of the -woods, which went screaming through the shadow. -Herons from the great heronry at the other end were -standing in nigh every pool, for the hot weather was a -godsend to them, and the trout fared ill when the long -thief-like bills flashed through the clear water. Now -and then a shy deer leaped from the ground and sped -up the hill. The desire of the chase was hot upon -me when, after an hour's rough scramble, I came to -the spot where I hoped for fish.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">A stretch of green turf, shaded on all sides by high -beeches, sloped down to the stream-side. The sun -made a shining pathway down the middle, but the -edges were in blackest shadow. At the foot a lone -gnarled alder hung over the water, sending its long -arms far over the river nigh to the farther side. Here -Tweed was still and sunless, showing a level of placid -black water, flecked in places with stray shafts of -light. I prepared my tackle on the grass, making a -casting-line of fine horse-hair which I had plucked -from the tail of our own grey gelding. I had no such -fine hooks as folk nowadays bring from Edinburgh, -sharpened and barbed ready to their hand; but rough, -homemade ones, which Tam Todd, the land-grieve, -had fashioned out of old needles. My line was of -thin, stout whipcord, to which I had made the -casting firm with a knot of my own invention. I had -out my bag of worms, and, choosing a fine red one, -made it fast on the hook. Then I crept gently to the -alder and climbed on the branch which hung far out -over the stream. Here I sat like an owl in the shade, -and dropped my line in the pool below me, where it -caught a glint of the sun and looked like a shining -cord let down, like Jacob's ladder, from heaven to the -darkness of earth.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had not sat many minutes before my rod was -wrenched violently downwards, then athwart the -stream, nearly swinging me from my perch. I have -got a monstrous trout, I thought, and with a fluttering -heart stood up on the branch to be more ready for -the struggle. He ran up the water and down; then -far below the tree roots, whence I had much difficulty -in forcing him; then he thought to break my line by -rapid jerks, but he did not know the strength of my -horse-hair. By and by he grew wearied, and I landed -him comfortably on a spit of land—a great red-spotted -fellow with a black back. I made sure that he was -two pounds weight if he was an ounce.</p> -<p class="pnext">I hid him in a cool bed of leaves and rushes on the -bank, and crawled back to my seat on the tree. I -baited my hook as before, and dropped it in; and then -leaned back lazily on the branches behind to meditate -on the pleasantness of fishing and the hatefulness of -Master Porter's teaching. In my shadowed place all -was cool and fresh as a May morning, but beyond, in -the gleam of the sun, I could see birds hopping -sleepily on the trees, and the shrivelled dun look of the -grass. A faint humming of bees reached me, and the -flash of a white butterfly shot, now and then, like a -star from the sunlight to the darkness, and back again -to the sunlight. It was a lovely summer's day, though -too warm for our sober country, and as I sat I thought -of the lands I had read of and heard of, where it was -always fiercely hot, and great fruits were to be had for -the pulling. I thought of the oranges and olives and -what not, and great silver and golden fishes with -sparkling scales; and as I thought of them I began to -loathe hazel-nuts and rowans and whortleberries, and -the homely trout, which are all that is to be had in -this land of ours. Then I thought of Barns and my -kinsfolk, and all the tales of my forbears, and I loved -again the old silent valley of Tweed—for a gallant tale -is worth many fruits and fishes. Then as the day -brightened my dreams grew accordingly. I came of -a great old house; I, too, would ride to the wars, to -the low countries, to Sweden, and I would do great -deeds like the men in Virgil. And then I wished I -had lived in Roman times. Ah, those were the days, -when all the good things of life fell to brave men, -and there was no other trade to be compared to war. -Then I reflected that they had no fishing, for I had -come on nothing as yet in my studies about fish and -the catching of them. And so, like the boy I was, I -dreamed on, and my thoughts chased each other in a -dance in my brain, and I fell fast asleep.</p> -<p class="pnext">I wakened with a desperate shudder, and found -myself floundering in seven feet of water. My eyes -were still heavy with sleep, and I swallowed great -gulps of the river as I sank. In a second I came to -the surface and with a few strokes I was at the side, -for I had early learned to swim. Stupid and angry, -I scrambled up the bank to the green glade. Here -a first surprise befell me. It was late afternoon; the -sun had travelled three-fourths of the sky; it would -be near five o'clock. What a great fool I had been -to fall asleep and lose a day's fishing! I found my -rod moored to the side with the line and half of the -horse-hair; some huge fish had taken the hook. Then -I looked around me to the water and the trees and the -green sward, and surprise the second befell me; for -there, not twelve paces from me, stood a little girl, -watching me with every appearance of terror.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was about two years younger than myself, I -fancied. Her dress was some rich white stuff which -looked eerie in the shade of the beeches, and her long -hair fell over her shoulders in plentiful curls. She -had wide, frightened blue eyes and a delicately-featured -face, and as for the rest I know not how to -describe her, so I will not try. I, with no more -manners than a dog, stood staring at her, wholly forgetful -of the appearance I must present, without shoes and -stockings, coat or waistcoat, and dripping with Tweed -water. She spoke first, in a soft southern tone, which -I, accustomed only to the broad Scots of Jean Morran, -who had been my nurse, fell in love with at once. -Her whole face was filled with the extremest terror.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, sir, be you the water-kelpie?" she asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">I could have laughed at her fright, though I must -have been like enough to some evil spirit; but I -answered her with my best gravity.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, I am no kelpie, but I had gone to sleep and -fell into the stream. My coat and shoes are in a hole -two miles down, and my name is John Burnet of -Barns." All this I said in one breath, being anxious -to right myself in her eyes; also with some pride in -the last words.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was pretty to see how recognition chased the fear -from her face. "I know you," she said. "I have -heard of you. But what do you in the dragon's hole, -sir? This is my place. The dragon will get you -without a doubt."</p> -<p class="pnext">At this I took off my bonnet and made my best -bow. "And who are you, pray, and what story is -this of dragons? I have been here scores of times, -and never have I seen or heard of them." This -with the mock importance of a boy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, I am Marjory," she said, "Marjory -Veitch, and I live at the great house in the wood, and -all this place is my father's and mine. And this is my -dragon's den;" and straightway she wandered into -a long tale of Fair Margot and the Seven Maidens, -how Margot wed the Dragon and he turned forthwith -into a prince, and I know not what else. "But no -harm can come to me, for look, I have the charm," -and she showed me a black stone in a silver locket. -"My nurse Alison gave it me. She had it from a -great fairy who came with it to my cradle when I was -born."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who told you all this?" I asked in wonder, for -this girl seemed to carry all the wisdom of the ages in -her head.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Alison and my father, and my brother Michael -and old Adam Noble, and a great many more—" Then -she broke off. "My mother is gone. The -fairies came for her."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then I remembered the story of the young English -mistress of Dawyck, who had died before she had been -two years in our country. And this child, with her -fairy learning, was her daughter.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I know not what took me, for I had ever -been shy of folk, and, above all, of womankind. But -here I found my tongue, and talked to my new -companion in a way which I could not sufficiently admire. -There in the bright sun-setting I launched into the -most miraculous account of my adventures of that -day, in which dragons and witches were simply the -commonest portents. Then I sat down and told her -all the stories I had read out of Virgil and Cæsar, -and all that I had heard of the wars in England and -abroad, and the tales of the countryside which the -packmen had told me. Also I must tell the romances -of the nettie-wives who come to our countryside from -the north—the old sad tale of Morag of the Misty -Days and Usnach's sons and the wiles of Angus. -And she listened, and thanked me ever so prettily when -I had done. Then she would enlighten my ignorance; -so I heard of the Red Etin of Ireland, and the Wolf -of Brakelin, and the Seven Bold Brothers. Then I -showed her nests, and gave her small blue eggs to -take home, and pulled great foxgloves for her, and -made coronets of fern. We played at hide-and-go-seek -among the beeches, and ran races, and fought -visionary dragons. Then the sun went down over -the trees, and she declared it was time to be going -home. So I got my solitary fish from its bed of -rushes and made her a present of it. She was -pleased beyond measure, though she cried out at my -hardness in taking its life.</p> -<p class="pnext">So it came to pass that Mistress Marjory Veitch of -Dawyck went home hugging a great two-pound trout, -and I went off to Barns, heedless of Master Porter and -his heavy hand, and, arriving late, escaped a -thrashing, and made a good meal of the remnants of supper.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst" id="the-house-of-barns">CHAPTER II</p> -<div class="center medium vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">THE HOUSE OF BARNS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The house of Barns stands on a green knoll above -the Tweed, half-way between the village of Stobo and -the town of Peebles. Tweed here is no great rolling -river, but a shallow, prattling stream, and just below -the house it winds around a small islet, where I loved -to go and fish; for it was an adventure to reach the -place, since a treacherous pool lay not a yard below -it. The dwelling was white and square, with a -beacon tower on the top, which once flashed the light -from Neidpath to Drochil when the English came -over the Border. It had not been used for half a -hundred years, but a brazier still stood there, and a -pile of rotten logs, grim mementoes of elder feuds. -This also was a haunt of mine, for jackdaws and owls -built in the corners, and it was choice fun of a spring -morning to search for eggs at the risk of my worthless -life. The parks around stretched to Manor village -on the one side, and nigh to the foot of the Lyne -Water on the other. Manor Water as far as Posso -belonged to us, and many a rare creel have I had out -of its pleasant reaches. Behind, rose the long heathery -hill of the Scrape, which is so great a hill that while -one side looks down on us another overhangs the -wood of Dawyck. Beyond that again came Dollar -Law and the wild fells which give birth to the Tweed, -the Yarrow, and the Annan.</p> -<p class="pnext">Within the house, by the great hall-fire, my father, -William Burnet, spent his days. I mind well his great -figure in the armchair, a mere wreck of a man, but -mighty in his very ruin. He wore a hat, though he -seldom went out, to mind him of the old days when he -was so busy at hunting and harrying that he had never -his head uncovered. His beard was streaked with -grey, and his long nose, with a break in the middle -(which is a mark of our family), and bushy eyebrows -gave him a fearsome look to a chance stranger. In -his young days he had been extraordinarily handsome -and active, and, if all tales be true, no better than he -should have been. He was feared in those days for -his great skill in night-foraying, so that he won the -name of the "Howlet," which never left him. Those -were the high days of our family, for my father was -wont to ride to the Weaponshow with seven horsemen -behind him; now we could scarce manage four. But -in one of his night-rides his good fortune failed him; -for being after no good on the hills above Megget one -dark wintry night, he fell over the Bitch Craig, horse -and all; and though he escaped with his life, he was -lamed in both legs and condemned to the house for the -rest of his days. Of a summer night he would come -out to the lawn with two mighty sticks to support -him, and looking to the Manor Water hills, would -shake his fist at them as old enemies. In his later -days he took kindly to theology and learning, both of -which, in the person of Master Porter, dined at his -table every day. I know not how my father, who -was a man of much penetration, could have been -deceived by this man, who had as much religion as an -ox. As for learning, he had some rag-tag scraps of -Latin which were visited on me for my sins; but in -eating he had no rival, and would consume beef and -pasty and ale like a famished army. He preached -every Sabbath in the little kirk of Lyne, below the -Roman camp, and a woful service it was. I went -regularly by my father's orders, but I was the only -one from the household of Barns. I fear that not -even my attendance at his church brought me Master -Porter's love; for I had acquired nearly as much -Latin as he possessed himself, and vexed his spirit -at lesson-hours with unanswerable questions. At -other times, too, I would rouse him to the wildest -anger by singing a profane song of my own making:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"O ken ye his Reverence Minister Tam,</div> -<div class="line">Wi' a heid like a stot and a face like a ram?"</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">To me my father was more than kind. He was -never tired of making plans for my future. "John," -he would say, "you shall go to Glasgow College, -for you have the makings of a scholar in you. Ay, -and we'll make you a soldier, John, and a good -honest gentleman to fight for your king, as your forbears -did before you." (This was scarce true, for there -never yet was a Burnet who fought for anything but -his own hand.) "No damned Whig for me. Gad, -how I wish I were hale in the legs to be off to the -hills with the Johnstones and Keiths. There wouldna -be one of the breed left from Tweedwell to the Brig -o' Peebles." Then he would be anxious about my -martial training, and get down the foils to teach me a -lesson. From this he would pass to tales of his own -deeds till the past would live before him, and his eyes -would glow with their old fire. Then he would forget -his condition, and seek to show me how some parry -was effected. There was but one result; his poor -weak legs would give way beneath him. Then I had -to carry him to his bed, swearing deeply at his -infirmities and lamenting the changes of life.</p> -<p class="pnext">In those days the Burnets were a poor family—a -poor and a proud. My grandfather had added much -to the lands by rapine and extortion—ill-gotten gains -which could not last. He had been a man of a violent -nature, famed over all the South for his feats of -horsemanship and swordsmanship. He died suddenly, of -overdrinking, at the age of fifty-five, and now lies in -the kirk of Lyne beneath an effigy representing the -Angel Gabriel coming for his soul. His last words -are recorded: "O Lord, I dinna want to dee, I dinna -want to dee. If ye'll let me live, I'll run up the -sklidders o' Cademuir to a' eternity." The folk of the -place seldom spoke of him, though my father upheld -him as a man of true spirit who had an eye to the -improvement of his house. Of the family before -him I had the history at my finger-ends. This was -a subject of which my father never tired, for he held -that the genealogy of the Burnets was a thing of vastly -greater importance than that of the kings of Rome or -Judah. From the old days when we held Burnetland, -in the parish of Broughton, and called ourselves of -that ilk, I had the unbroken history of the family in -my memory. Ay, and also of the great house of -Traquair, for my mother had been a Stewart, and, as -my father said often, this was the only family in the -country bide which could hope to rival us in antiquity -or valour.</p> -<p class="pnext">My father's brother, Gilbert, had married the heiress -of a westland family, and with her had got the lands -of Eaglesham, about the headwaters of Cart. His -son Gilbert, my cousin, was a tall lad some four years -my senior, who on several occasions rode to visit us -at Barns. He was of a handsome, soldierly -appearance, and looked for an early commission in a Scots -company. At first I admired him mightily, for he -was skilful at all sports, rode like a moss-trooper, and -could use his sword in an incomparable fashion. My -father could never abide him, for he could not cease -to tell of his own prowess, and my father was used to -say that he loved no virtue better than modesty. Also, -he angered every servant about the place by his -hectoring, and one day so offended old Tam Todd that -Tam flung a bucket at him, and threatened to duck him -in the Tweed; which he doubtless would have done, -old as he was, for he was a very Hercules of a man. -This presented a nice problem to all concerned, and I -know not which was the more put out, Tam or my -father. Finally it ended in the latter reading Gilbert a -long and severe lecture, and then bidding Tam ask -his pardon, seeing that the dignity of the family had -to be sustained at any cost.</p> -<p class="pnext">One other relative, though in a distant way, I must -not omit to mention, for the day came when every -man of our name was proud to claim the kinship. -This was Gilbert Burnet, of Edinburgh, afterwards -Divinity Professor in Glasgow, Bishop of Salisbury, -and the author of the famous "Bishop Burnet's -History of his Own Times." I met him often in after -days, and once in London he had me to his house and -entertained me during my stay. Of him I shall have -to tell hereafter, but now he was no more than a name -to me, a name which my father was fond of repeating -when he wished to recall me to gravity.</p> -<p class="pnext">Tam Todd, my father's grieve, who managed the -lands about the house, deserves more than a passing -word. He was about sixty years of age, stooped in the -back, but with long arms and the strength of a giant. -At one time he had fought for Gustavus, and might -have risen high in the ranks, had not a desperate desire -to see his native land come upon him and driven him -to slip off one night and take ship for Leith. He -had come to Peebles, where my father met him, and -admiring his goodly stature, took him into his service, -in which Tam soon became as expert at the breeding -of sheep as ever he had been at the handling of a -pike or musket. He was the best story-teller and the -cunningest fisher in the place, full of quaint foreign -words, French, and Swedish, and High Dutch, for -the army of Gustavus had been made up of the -riddlings of Europe. From him I learned to fence with -the rapier, and a past-master he was, for my father told -how, in his best days, he could never so much as look -at Tam. <em class="italics">Bon pied bon oeil</em> was ever his watchword, -and I have proved it a good one; for, short though it -be, if a man but follow it he may fear nothing. Also, -he taught me a thing which has been most useful to -me, and which I will speak of again—the art of using -the broadsword or claymore, as the wild Highlanders -call it. My school was on a strip of green grass -beside Tweed, and here I have had many a tough -encounter in the long summer nights. He made me -stand with my back to the deep pool, that I might -fear to step back; and thus I learned to keep my -ground, a thing which he held to be of the essence of -swordsmanship.</p> -<p class="pnext">My nurse, Jean Morran, was the only woman body -about the place. She and Tam did the cooking -between them, for that worthy had learned the art -gastronomical from a Frenchman whose life he saved, and -who, in gratitude, taught him many excellent secrets -for dishes, and stole ten crowns. She had minded me -and mended my clothes and seen to my behaviour ever -since my mother died of a fever when I was scarce -two years old. Of my mother I remember nothing, -but if one may judge from my father's long grief and -her portrait in the dining-hall, she had been a good and -a gentle as well as a most beautiful woman. Jean, -with her uncouth tongue and stern face, is still a clear -figure in my memory. She was a kind nurse in the -main, and if her temper was doubtful from many sore -trials, her cakes and sugar were excellent salves to my -wronged heart. She was, above all things, a famous -housewife, keeping the place spotless and clean, so -that when one entered the house of Barns there was -always something fresh and cool in the very air.</p> -<p class="pnext">But here I am at the end of my little gallery, for -the place was bare of folk, and the life a lonely one. -Here I grew up amid the woods and hills and the clean -air, with a great zest for all the little excellencies of -my lot, and a tolerance of its drawbacks. By the -time I had come to sixteen years I had swam in every -pool in Tweed for miles up and down, climbed every -hill, fished in every burn, and ridden and fallen from -every horse in my father's stable. I had been as far -west as Tintock Hill and as far south as the Loch o' -the Lowes. Nay, I had once been taken to -Edinburgh in company with Tam, who bought me a noble -fishing-rod, and showed me all the wondrous things -to be seen. A band of soldiers passed down the High -Street from the Castle with a great clanking and -jingling, and I saw my guide straighten up his back -and keep time with his feet to their tread. All the -way home, as I sat before him on the broad back of -Maisie, he told me tales of his campaigns, some of -them none too fit for a boy's ear; but he was carried -away and knew not what he was saying. This first -put a taste for the profession of arms into my mind, -which was assiduously fostered by my fencing lessons -and the many martial tales I read. I found among -my father's books the chronicles of Froissart and a -history of the Norman Kings, both in the English, -which I devoured by night and day. Then I had -Tacitus and Livy, and in my fourteenth year I began -the study of Greek with a master at Peebles. So -that soon I had read most of the "Iliad" and all -the "Odyssey," and would go about repeating the -long, swinging lines. I think that story of the man -who, at the siege of some French town, shouted a -Homeric battle-piece most likely to be true, for with -me the Greek had a like effect, and made me tramp -many miles over the hills or ride the horses more hard -than my father permitted.</p> -<p class="pnext">But this book-work was, after all, but half of my -life, and that the less memorable. All the sights and -sounds of that green upland vale are linked for me -with memories of boyish fantasies. I used to climb -up the ridge of Scrape when the sun set and dream -that the serried ranks of hills were a new country -where all was strange, though I knew well that an -hour of the morning would dispel the fancy. Then -I would descend from the heights, and for weeks be so -fiercely set on the sports of the time of year that I had -scarcely time for a grave thought. I have often gone -forth to the lambing with the shepherds, toiled all day -in the brown moors, and at night dropped straight off -to sleep as I sat in my chair at meat. Then there -was the salmon-fishing in the late spring, when the -blood ran hot at the flare of the torches and the -shimmer of the spears, and I, a forlorn young fool, -shivered in my skin as the keen wind blew down the -water. There was the swing and crackle of the stones -in winter when the haughlands of Manor were flooded, -and a dozen brown-faced men came to the curling and -the air rang with shouts and laughter. I have mind, -too, of fierce days of snow when men looked solemn -and the world was so quiet that I whistled to keep me -from despondency, and the kitchen at Barns was like -a place in an inn with famishing men and dripping -garments. Then Tweed would be buried under some -great drift and its kindly flow sorely missed by man -and beast. But best I remember the loosening of -winter, when the rains from the moors sent down the -river roaring-red, and the vale was one pageant of -delicate greenery and turbid brown torrent.</p> -<p class="pnext">Often I would take my books and go into the heart -of the hills for days and nights. This, my father -scarce liked, but he never hindered me. It was -glorious to kindle your fire in the neuk of a glen, broil -your trout, and make your supper under the vault of -the pure sky. Sweet, too, at noonday to lie beside -the wellhead of some lonely burn, and think of many -things that can never be set down and are scarce -remembered. But these were but dreams, and this is -not their chronicle; so it behooves me to shut my ear -to vagrom memories.</p> -<p class="pnext">To Dawyck I went the more often the older I grew. -For Marjory Veitch had grown into a beautiful, lissom -girl, with the same old litheness of body and gaiety of -spirit. She was my comrade in countless escapades, -and though I have travelled the world since then I have -never found a readier or a braver. But with the years -she grew more maidenly, and I dared less to lead her -into mad ventures. Nay, I who had played with her -in the woods and fished and raced with her as with -some other lad, began to feel a foolish awe in her -presence, and worshipped her from afar. The fairy -learning of her childhood was but the index of a -wistfulness and delicacy of nature which, to my grosser -spirit, seemed something to uncover one's head before. -I have loved her dearly all my life, but I have never -more than half understood her; which is a good gift -of God to most men, for the confounding of vanity.</p> -<p class="pnext">To her a great sorrow had come. For when she -was scarce thirteen, her father, the laird of Dawyck, -who had been ever of a home-keeping nature, died from -a fall while hunting on the brow of Scrape. He had -been her childhood's companion, and she mourned for -him as sorely as ever human being mourned for -another. Michael, her only brother, was far abroad in -a regiment of the Scots French Guards, so she was -left alone in the great house with no other company -than the servants and a cross-grained aunt who heard -but one word in twenty. For this reason I rode over -the oftener to comfort her loneliness.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-spate-in-tweed">CHAPTER III</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE SPATE IN TWEED</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The year 1683 was with us the driest year in -any man's memory. From the end of April to the -end of July we had scarce a shower. The hay-harvest -was ruined beyond repair, and man and beast -were sick with the sultry days. It was on the last -Monday of July that I, wearied with wandering -listlessly about the house, bethought myself of riding to -Peebles to see the great match at bowls which is -played every year for the silver horn. I had no -expectation of a keen game, for the green was sure to -be well-nigh ruined with the sun, and men had lost -spirit in such weather. But the faintest interest is -better than purposeless idleness, so I roused myself -from languor and set out.</p> -<p class="pnext">I saddled Maisie the younger, for this is a family -name among our horses, and rode down by the Tweed -side to the town. The river ran in the midst of a -great bed of sun-baked gravel—a little trickle that a -man might step across. I do not know where the -fish had gone, but they, too, seemed scared by the -heat, for not a trout plashed to relieve the hot silence. -When I came to the Manor pool I stood still in -wonder, for there for the first time in my life I saw the -stream dry. Manor, which is in winter a roaring -torrent and at other times a clear, full stream, had not -a drop of running water in its bed; naught but a few -stagnant pools green with slime. It was a grateful -change to escape from the sun into the coolness of the -Neidpath woods; but even there a change was seen, -for the ferns hung their fronds wearily and the moss -had lost all its greenness. When once more I came -out to the sun, its beating on my face was so fierce -that it almost burned, and I was glad when I came to -the town, and the shade of tree and dwelling.</p> -<p class="pnext">The bowling-green of Peebles, which is one of the -best in the country, lies at the west end of the High -Street at the back of the Castle Hill. It looks down -on Tweed and Peebles Water, where they meet at -the Cuddie's Pool, and thence over a wide stretch -of landscape to the high hills. The turf had been -kept with constant waterings, but, notwithstanding, it -looked grey and withered. Here I found half the -men-folk of Peebles assembled and many from the -villages near, to see the match which is the greatest -event of the month. Each player wore a ribband of -a special colour. Most of them had stripped off their -coats and jerkins to give their arms free play, and some -of the best were busied in taking counsel with their -friends as to the lie of the green. The landlord of the -Crosskeys was there with a great red favour stuck in his -hat, looking, as I thought, too fat and rubicund a man -to have a steady eye. Near him was Peter Crustcrackit -the tailor, a little wiry man with legs bent from -sitting cross-legged, thin active hands, and keen eyes -well used to the sewing of fine work. Then there -were carters and shepherds, stout fellows with bronzed -faces and great brawny chests, and the miller of the -Wauk-mill, who was reported the best bowl-player in -the town. Some of the folk had come down like -myself merely to watch; and among them I saw -Andrew Greenlees, the surgeon, who had tended me -what time I went over the cauld. A motley crowd -of the odds and ends of the place hung around or sat -on the low wall—poachers and black-fishers and all -the riff-raff of the town.</p> -<p class="pnext">The jack was set, the order of the game arranged, -and the play commenced. A long man from the -Quair Water began, and sent his bowl curling up the -green not four inches from the mark.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel dune for Quair Water," said one. -"They're nane sae blind thereaways."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then a flesher's lad came and sent a shot close on -the heels of the other and lay by his side.</p> -<p class="pnext">At this, there were loud cries of "Weel dune, -Coo's Blether," which was a name they had for him; -and the fellow grew red and withdrew to the back.</p> -<p class="pnext">Next came a little nervous man, who looked entreatingly -at the bystanders as if to bespeak their consideration. -"Jock Look-up, my dear," said a man solemnly, -"compose your anxious mind, for thae auld -wizened airms o' yours 'll no send it half-road." The -little man sighed and played his bowl: it was -even as the other had said, for his shot was adjudged -a <em class="italics">hogg</em> and put off the green.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then many others played till the green was crowded -at one end with the balls. They played in rinks, and -interest fell off for some little time till it came to the -turn of the two acknowledged champions, Master -Crustcrackit and the miller, to play against one -another. Then the onlookers crowded round once more.</p> -<p class="pnext">The miller sent a long swinging shot which touched -the jack and carried it some inches onward. Then a -bowl from the tailor curled round and lay between -them and the former mark. Now arose a great -dispute (for the players of Peebles had a way of their own, -and to understand their rules required no ordinary -share of brains) as to the propriety of Master -Crustcrackit's shot, some alleging that he had played off -the cloth, others defending. The miller grew furiously warm.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye wee, sneck-drawin' tailor-body, wad ye set up -your bit feckless face against a man o' place and siller?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Haud your tongue, miller," cried one. "Ye've -nae cause to speak ill o' the way God made a man."</p> -<p class="pnext">Master Crustcrackit, however, needed no defender. -He was ready in a second.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what dae ye ca' yoursel' but a great, -God-forsaken dad o' a man, wi' a wame like Braid Law -and a mouth like the bottomless pit for yill and beef -and a' manner o' carnal bakemeats. You to speak -abune your breath to me," and he hopped round his -antagonist like an enraged fighting-cock.</p> -<p class="pnext">What the miller would have said no one may guess, -had not a middle-aged man, who had been sitting on -a settle placidly smoking a long white pipe, come up -to see what was the dispute. He was dressed in a -long black coat, with small-clothes of black, and broad -silver-buckled shoon. The plain white cravat around -his neck marked him for a minister.</p> -<p class="pnext">"William Laverlaw and you, Peter Crustcrackit, -as the minister of this parish, I command ye to be -silent. I will have no disturbance on this public -green. Nay, for I will adjudge your difference myself."</p> -<p class="pnext">All were silent in a second, and a hush of interest -fell on the place.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But that canna be," grumbled the miller, "for -ye're nae great hand at the bowls."</p> -<p class="pnext">The minister stared sternly at the speaker, who -sank at once into an aggrieved quiet. "As God has -appointed me the spiritual guide of this unworthy -town, so also has He made me your master in secular -affairs. I will settle your disputes and none other. -And, sir, if you or any other dare gainsay me, then I -shall feel justified in leaving argument for force, and -the man who offends I shall fling into the Cuddie's Pool -for the clearing of his brain and the benefit of his -soul." He spoke in a slow, methodical tone, rolling -the words over his tongue. Then I remembered the -many stories I had heard of this man's autocratic rule -over the folk of the good town of Peebles; how he, -alien like to whig and prelatist, went on his steadfast -path caring for no man and snapping his fingers at the -mandates of authority. And indeed in the quiet fierce -face and weighty jaws there was something which -debarred men from meddling with their owner.</p> -<p class="pnext">Such was his influence on the people that none -dared oppose him, and he gave his decision, which -seemed to me to be a just and fair one. After this -they fell to their play once more.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meantime I had been looking on at the sport from -the vantage-ground of the low wall which looked -down on the river. I had debated a question of -farriery with the surgeon, who was also something of a -horse-doctor; and called out greetings to the different -players, according as I favoured their colours. Then -when the game no longer amused me, I had fallen to -looking over the country, down to the edge of the -water where the small thatched cottages were yellow -in the heat, and away up the broad empty channel of -Tweed. The cauld, where salmon leap in the spring -and autumn, and which is the greatest cauld on the -river unless it be the one at Melrose, might have been -crossed dryshod. I began to hate the weariful, -everlasting glare and sigh for the clouds once more, and -the soft moist turf and the hazy skyline. Now it was -so heavily oppressive that a man could scarce draw a -free breath. The players dripped with sweat and -looked nigh exhausted, and for myself the sulphurous -air weighed on me like a mount of lead and confused -such wits as I had.</p> -<p class="pnext">Even as I looked I saw a strange thing on the river -bank which chained my languid curiosity. For down -the haugh, swinging along at a great pace, came a man, -the like of whom I had seldom seen. He ran at a -steady trot more like a horse than a human creature, -with his arms set close by his sides and without bonnet -or shoes. His head swung from side to side as with -excessive weariness, and even at that distance I could -see how he panted. In a trice he was over Peebles -Water and had ascended the bank to the bowling-green, -cleared the low dyke, and stood gaping before -us. Now I saw him plainer, and I have rarely seen a -stranger sight. He seemed to have come a great -distance, but no sweat stood on his brow; only a dun -copper colour marking the effect of the hot sun. His -breeches were utterly ragged and in places showed his -long supple limbs. A shock of black hair covered -his head and shaded his swarthy face. His eyes were -wild and keen as a hawk's, and his tongue hung out -of his mouth like a dog's in a chase. Every man -stopped his play and looked at the queer newcomer. A -whisper went round the place that it was that "fule -callant frae Brochtoun," but this brought no news to me.</p> -<p class="pnext">The man stood still for maybe three minutes with -his eyes fixed on the ground as if to recover breath. -Then he got up with dazed glances, like one wakening -from sleep. He stared at me, then at the players, -and burst into his tale, speaking in a high, excited -voice.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hae run frae Drummeller to bring ye word. -Quick and get the folk out o' the waterside hooses -or the feck o' the toun 'll be soomin' to Berwick in -an 'oor."</p> -<p class="pnext">No one spoke, but all stared as if they took him for -a madman.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's been an awfu' storm up i' the muirs," -he went on, panting, "and Tweed's com in' doun -like a mill-race. The herd o' Powmood tellt me, and -I got twae 'oors start o't and cam off here what I -could rin. Get the folk out o' the waterside hooses -when I bid ye, wi' a' their gear and plenishing, or -there'll no be sae muckle as a groat's worth left by -nicht. Up wi' ye and haste, for there's nae time to -lose. I heard the roar o' the water miles off, louder -than ony thunderstorm and mair terrible than an -army wi' banners. Quick, ye auld doited bodies, if -ye dinna want to hae mourning and lamentation i' the -toun o' Peebles."</p> -<p class="pnext">At this, as you may believe, a great change passed -over all. Some made no words about it, but rushed -into the town to give the alarm; others stared stupidly -as if waiting for more news; while some were -disposed to treat the whole matter as a hoax. This -enraged the newsbearer beyond telling. Springing up, -he pointed to the western sky, and far off we saw a -thick blackness creeping up the skyline. "If ye'll -no believe me," said he, "will ye believe the -finger of God?" The word and the sight convinced -the most distrusting.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now Tweed, unlike all other rivers of my knowledge, -rises terribly at the first rain and travels slowly, -so that Tweedsmuir may be under five feet of water -and Peebles high and dry. This makes the whole -valley a place of exceeding danger in sultry weather, -for no man knows when a thunderstorm may break -in the hills and send the stream down a raging -torrent. This, too, makes it possible to hear word of a -flood before it comes, and by God's grace to provide -against it.</p> -<p class="pnext">The green was soon deserted. I rushed down to -the waterside houses, which were in the nearest peril, -and in shorter time than it takes to tell, we had the -people out and as much of their belongings as were -worth the saving; then we hastened to the low-lying -cottages on Tweed Green and did likewise. Some -of the folk seemed willing to resist, because, as they -said, "Whae kenned but that the body micht be a -leear and they werena to hae a' this wark for -naething?" For the great floods were but a tradition, -and only the old men had seen the ruin which the -spate could work. Nevertheless, even these were -convinced by a threatening sky and a few words from the -newsbearer's trenchant tongue. Soon the High Street -and the wynds were thick with household belongings, -and the Castle Hill was crowded with folk to see the -coming of the flood.</p> -<p class="pnext">By this time the grim line of black had grown over -half the sky, and down fell great drops of rain into the -white, sun-baked channel. It was strange to watch -these mighty splashes falling into the little stagnant -pools and the runlets of flowing water. And still the -close, thick heat hung over all, and men looked at the -dawnings of the storm with sweat running over their -brows. With the rain came a mist—a white ghastly -haze which obliterated the hills and came down nigh -to the stream. A sound, too, grew upon our ears, at -first far away and dim, but increasing till it became a -dull hollow thunder, varied with a strange crackling, -swishing noise which made a man eery to listen to. -Then all of a sudden the full blast of the thing came -upon us. Men held their breaths as the wind and rain -choked them and drove them back. It was scarce -possible to see far before, but the outlines of the gorge -of Neidpath fleeted through the drift, whence the river -issued. Every man turned his eyes thither and strained -them to pierce the gloom.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly round the corner of the hill appeared a -great yellow wave crested with white foam and filling -the whole space. Down it came roaring and hissing, -mowing the pines by the waterside as a reaper mows -down hay with a scythe. Then with a mighty -bound it broke from the hill-barriers and spread over -the haugh. Now, the sound was like the bubbling of -a pot ere it boils. We watched it in terror and -admiration, as it swept on its awful course. In a -trice it was at the cauld, and the cauld disappeared -under a whirl of foam; now it was on the houses, -and the walls went in like nutshells and the rubble -was borne onward. A cry got up of "the bridge," -and all hung in wonder as it neared the old stonework, -the first barrier to the torrent's course, the brave -bridge of Peebles. It flung itself on it with fiendish -violence, but the stout masonwork stood firm, and the -boiling tide went on through the narrow arches, -leaving the bridge standing unshaken, as it had stood -against many a flood. As we looked, we one and all -broke into a cheer in honour of the old masons who -had made so trusty a piece of stone.</p> -<p class="pnext">I found myself in the crowd of spectators standing -next to the man who had brought the tidings. He -had recovered his breath and was watching the sight -with a look half of interest and half of vexation. -When all was past and only the turbid river remained, -he shook himself like a dog and made to elbow his way -out. "I maun be awa'," he said, speaking to -himself, "and a sair job I'll hae gettin' ower Lyne -Water." When I heard him I turned round and -confronted him. There was something so pleasing -about his face, his keen eyes and alert head, that I -could not forbear from offering him my hand, and -telling him of my admiration for his deed. I was still -but a boy and he was clearly some years my elder, so -I made the advance, I doubt not, with a certain -shyness and hesitancy. He looked at me sharply and -smiled.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye're the young laird o' Barns," said he; "I -ken ye weel though ye maybe are no aquaint wi' me. -I'm muckle honoured, sir, and gin ye'll come -Brochtoun-ways sometime and speir for Nicol Plenderleith, -he'll tak ye to burns that were never fished afore and -hills that never heard the sound o' a shot."</p> -<p class="pnext">I thanked him, and watched him slipping through -the crowd till he was lost to view. This was my -first meeting with Nicol Plenderleith, of whose ways -and doings this tale shall have much to say. The -glamour of the strange fellow was still upon me as -I set myself to make my road home. I am almost -ashamed to tell of my misfortunes; for after crossing -the bridge and riding to Manor Water, I found that -this stream likewise had risen and had not left a bridge -in its whole course. So I had to go up as far as -St. Gordians' Cross before I could win over it, and did -not reach Barns till after midnight, where I found my -father half-crazy with concern for me and Tam Todd -making ready to go and seek me.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-go-to-the-college-at-glasgow">CHAPTER IV</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I GO TO THE COLLEGE AT GLASGOW</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">By this time I had grown a great stalwart lad, little -above the middle height, but broad and sinewy. I had -made progress in all manly sports and could fling the -hammer almost as far as the Manor blacksmith, while in -leaping and running I had few rivals among lads of -my age. Also I was no bad swordsman, but could -stand my own against all the wiles of Tam Todd, and -once even disarmed him to his own unspeakable disgust. -In my studies, which I pursued as diligently as I could -with no teachers and not over-many books, I had -made some little advance, having read through most -of the Greek tragedians and advanced some distance -in the study of Plato; while in the Latin tongue I -had become such an adept that I could both read and -write it with ease.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I had reached the mature age of eighteen, -who should come up into our parts but my famous -relative, Master Gilbert Burnet, the preacher at -St. Clement's in London, of whom I have already spoken. -He was making a journey to Edinburgh and had turned -out of his way to revive an old acquaintance. My -father was overjoyed to see him and treated him to the -best the house could produce. He stayed with us two -days, and I remember him still as he sat in a great -armchair opposite my father, with his broad velvet -cap and grey, peaked beard, and weighty brows. Yet -when he willed, though for ordinary a silent man, he -could talk as gaily and wittily as any town gallant; so -much indeed that my father, who was somewhat hard -to please, declared him the best companion he ever -remembered.</p> -<p class="pnext">Before he left, Master Burnet examined me on my -progress in polite learning, and finding me well -advanced, he would have it that I should be sent -forthwith to Glasgow College. He exacted a promise from -my father to see to this, and left behind him, when he -departed, letters of introduction to many of the folk -there, for he himself had, at one time, been professor -of divinity in the place. As for myself, I was nothing -loth to go, and see places beyond Tweeddale and add -to my stock of learning; for about this time a great -enthusiasm for letters had seized me (which I suppose -happens at some time or other to most men), and I -conceived my proper vocation in life to be that of the -scholar. I have found in an old manuscript book a -list of the titles of imaginary works, editions, poems, -treatises, all with my unworthy name subscribed as -the author. So it was settled that I should ride to -Glasgow and take lodgings in the town for the sake -of the college classes.</p> -<p class="pnext">I set out one November morning, riding Maisie -alone, for no student was allowed to have a servant, -nor any one below the degree of Master of Arts. -The air was keen and frosty, and I rode in high fettle -by the towns of Biggar and Lanark to the valley of -the Clyde. I lay all night at Crossford in the house -of a distant relative. Thence the next day I rode to -Hamilton and in the evening came to the bridge of -the Clyde at Glasgow. Then I presented myself to -the Principal and Regents of the college and was duly -admitted, putting on the red gown, the badge of the -student class, than which I believe there is no more -hideous habiliment.</p> -<p class="pnext">The college in those days was poor enough, having -been well-nigh ruined by the extortions of Lord -Middleton and his drunken crew; and it had not yet -benefited by the rich donations of the Reverend -Zachary Boyd of the Barony Kirk. Still, the standard -of learning in the place was extraordinarily high, -especially in dialectic and philosophy—a standard -which had been set by the famous Andrew Melville -when he was a professor in the place. I have heard -disputations there in the evenings between the -schoolmen and the new philosophers, the like of which -could scarcely be got from the length and breadth of -the land.</p> -<p class="pnext">Across the High Street were the college gardens and -green pleasant orchards where the professors were -wont to walk and the scholars to have their games. -Through the middle ran the clear Molendinar Burn, -so called by the old Romans, and here I loved to -watch the trout and young salmon leaping. There -was a severe rule against scholars fishing in the -stream, so I was fain to content myself with the sight. -For soon a violent fit of home-sickness seized me, and -I longed for the rush of Tweed and the pleasant sweep -of Manor; so it was one of my greatest consolations to -look at this water and fancy myself far away from the -town. One other lad who came from Perthshire used -to come and stand with me and tell me great tales -of his fishing exploits; and I did likewise with him -till we became great companions. Many afternoons -I spent here, sometimes with a book and sometimes -without one; in the fine weather I would lie on the -grass and dream, and in rough, boisterous winter -days I loved to watch the Molendinar, flooded and -angry, fling its red waters against the old stones of -the bridge.</p> -<p class="pnext">No one of us was permitted to carry arms of any -kind, so I had to sell my sword on my first coming -to the town. This was a great hardship to me, for -whereas when I carried a weapon I had some sense of -my own importance, now I felt no better than the -rest of the unarmed crowd about me. Yet it was a -wise precaution, for in other places where scholars are -allowed to strut like cavaliers there are fights and duels -all the day long, so that the place looks less like an -abode of the Muses than a disorderly tavern. -Nevertheless, there were many manly exercises to be had, -for in the greens in the garden we had trials of skill at -archery and golf and many other games of the kind. -At the first mentioned I soon became a great master, -for I had a keen eye from much living among woods -and hills, and soon there was no one who could come -near me at the game. As for golf, I utterly failed to -excel; and indeed it seems to me that golf is like the -divine art of poetry, the gift for which is implanted in -man at his birth or not at all. Be that as it may, I -never struck a golf-ball fairly in my life, and I -misdoubt I never shall.</p> -<p class="pnext">As for my studies, for which I came to the place, -I think I made great progress. For after my first fit -of home-sickness was over, I fell in with the ways of -the college, and acquired such a vast liking for the -pursuit of learning that I felt more convinced than -ever that Providence had made me for a scholar. In -my classes I won the commendation of both professors; -especially in the class of dialectic, where an analysis -of Aristotle's method was highly praised by Master -Sandeman, the professor. This fine scholar and -accomplished gentleman helped me in many ways, -and for nigh two months, when he was sick of the -fever, I lectured to his class in his stead. We were -all obliged to talk in the Latin tongue and at first my -speech was stiff and awkward enough, but by and by -I fell into the way of it and learned to patter it as -glibly as a Spanish monk.</p> -<p class="pnext">It may be of interest to those of my house that I -should give some account of my progress in the several -studies, to show that our family is not wholly a -soldiering one. In Greek I studied above others the -works of Plato, delighting especially in his Phaedo, -which I had almost by heart; Aristotle likewise, though -I read but little of him in his own tongue. I -completed a translation of the first part of Plato's -Republic into Latin, which Master Sandeman was -pleased to say was nigh as elegant as George -Buchanan's. Also I was privileged to discover certain -notable emendations in the text of this work, which -I sent in manuscript to the famous Schookius of -Groningen, who incorporated them in his edition then in -preparation, but after the fashion of Dutchmen sent -me no thanks.</p> -<p class="pnext">As regards philosophy, which I hold the most -divine of all studies, I was in my first year a most -earnest Platonic; nay, I went farther than the master -himself, as is the way of all little minds when they -seek to comprehend a great one. In those days I -went about in sober attire and strove in all things to -order my life according to the rules of philosophy, -seeking to free myself from all disturbing outside -powers and live the life of pure contemplation. I -looked back with unutterable contempt on my past as -a turbid and confused medley, nor did I seek anything -better in life than quiet and leisure for thought and -study. In such a condition I spent the first month -of my stay at Glasgow.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then the Platonic fit left me and I was all for -Aristotle and the Peripatetics. Here, at last, thought -I, have I got the <em class="italics">siccum lumen</em>, which Heraclitus -spoke of: and his distinct and subtle reasoning seemed -to me to be above doubt. And indeed I have never -wondered at the schoolmen and others who looked -upon Aristotle as having reached the height of human -wisdom, for his method is so all-embracing and satisfying -that it breeds wonder in the heart of any man; -and it affords so sure a bottom for thought that men -become Aristotelians.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the midsummer months I went down to Tweeddale -again, where I astonished my father and all in the -place with my new learning, and also grieved them. -For I had no love for fishing or shooting; I would -scarce ride two miles for the pleasure of it; my -father's tales, in which I delighted before, had -grown tiresome; and I had no liking for anything -save bending over books. When I went to Dawyck -to see Marjory, she knew not what had come over -me, I was so full of whims and fancies. "O -John," she said, "your face is as white as a -woman's, and you have such a horrible cloak. Go and -get another at once, you silly boy, and not shame -your friends." Yet even Marjory had little power -over me, for I heeded her not, though aforetime I -would have ridden posthaste to Peebles and got me a -new suit, and painted my face if I had thought that -thereby I would pleasure her.</p> -<p class="pnext">When the autumn came again I returned to college -more inclined than ever for the life of a scholar. I -fell to my studies with renewed zeal, and would -doubtless have killed myself with work had I not been -nearly killed with the fever, which made me more -careful of my health. And now, like the weathercock -I was, my beliefs shifted yet again. For studying the -schoolmen, who were the great upholders of Aristotle, -I found in them so many contradictions and phantasies -which they fathered on their master that, after reading -the diatribes of Peter Ramus and others against him, -I was almost persuaded that I had been grievously -misled. Then, at last, I saw hat the fault lay not in -Aristotle but in his followers, who sought to find in -him things that were beyond the compass of his -thought. So by degrees I came round toward the new -philosophy, which a party in the college upheld. -They swore by the great names of Bacon and Galileo -and the other natural philosophers, but I hesitated to -follow them, for they seemed to me to disdain all -mental philosophy, which I hold is the greater study. -I was of this way of thinking when I fell in one day -with an English book, a translation of a work by a -Frenchman, one Renatus Descartes, published in -London in the year 1649. It gave an account of the -progress in philosophy of this man, who followed no -school, but, clearing his mind of all presuppositions, -instituted a method for himself. This marked for me -the turning point; for I gave in my allegiance -without hesitation to this philosopher, and ever since I -have held by his system with some modifications. It -is needless for me to enter further into my philosophy, -for I have by me a written exposition of the works of -this Descartes with my own additions, which I intend, -if God so please, to give soon to the world.</p> -<p class="pnext">For two years I abode at the college, thinking that -I was destined by nature for a studious life, and -harbouring thoughts of going to the university of Saumur -to complete my studies. I thought that my spirit -was chastened to a fit degree, and so no doubt it was, -for those who had feared me at first on account of -my heavy fist and straightforward ways, now openly -scoffed at me without fear of punishment. Indeed, -one went so far one day as to jostle me off the causeway, -and I made no return, but went on as if nothing had -happened, deeming it beneath a wise man to be -distracted by mundane trifles. Yet, mind you, in all -this there was nothing Christian or like unto the -meekness of our Master, as I have seen in some men; but -rather an absurd attempt to imitate those who would -have lived very differently had their lot been cast in -our hot and turbid days.</p> -<p class="pnext">How all this was changed and I veered round of a -sudden to the opposite I must hasten to tell. One April -day, towards the close of my second year, I was going -up the High Street toward the Cathedral with a great -parcel of books beneath my arm, when I heard a -shouting and a jingling, and a troop of horse came -down the street. I stood back into the shelter of a -doorway, for soldiers were wont to bear little love to -scholars, and I did not care to risk their rough jests. -From this place I watched their progress, and a gallant -sight it was. Some twenty men in buff jerkins and -steel headpieces rode with a fine clatter of bridles and -clank of swords. I marked their fierce sun-brown -faces and their daredevil eyes as they looked -haughtily down on the crowd as on lower beings. And -especially I marked their leader. He sat a fine bay -horse with ease and grace; his plumed hat set off his -high-coloured face and long brown curls worn in the -fashion of the day; and as he rode he bowed to the -people with large condescension. He was past in a -second, but not before I had recognized the face and -figure of my cousin Gilbert.</p> -<p class="pnext">I stood for some minutes staring before me, while -the echoes of the horses' hooves died away down the -street. This, I thought, is the destiny of my cousin, -only two years my elder, a soldier, a gentleman, a -great man in his place; while I am but a nameless -scholar, dreaming away my manhood in the pursuits -of a dotard. I was so overwhelmed with confusion -that I stood gaping with a legion of thoughts and -opposing feelings running through my brain. Then all -the old fighting spirit of my house rose within me. -By Heaven, I would make an end of this; I would get -me home without delay; I would fling my books into -the Clyde; I would go to the wars; I would be a -great cavalier, and, by the Lord, I would keep up the -name of the house! I was astonished myself at the -sudden change in my feelings, for in the space of -some ten minutes a whole age had passed for me, and -I had grown from a boy to some measure of manhood. -I came out from the close-mouth with my head in the -air and defiance against all the world in my eye.</p> -<p class="pnext">Before I had gone five spaces I met the lad who -had jostled me aforetime, a big fellow of a -raw-boned Ayrshire house, and before he could speak I -had him by the arm and had pulled him across the -way into the college gardens. There I found a quiet -green place, and plucking off my coat I said, "Now, -Master Dalrymple, you and I have a small account to -settle." With that we fell to with our fists, and in -the space of a quarter of an hour I had beaten him so -grievously that he was fain to cry for mercy. I let -him go, and with much whimpering he slunk away in -disgust.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then I went into the town and bought myself a -new blade and a fine suit of clothes—all with the -greatest gusto and lightness of heart. I went to the -inn where Maisie was stabled and bade them have her -ready for me at the college gate in an hour. Then -I bade good-bye to all my friends, but especially to -Master Sandeman, from whom I was loth to part. I -did not fling my books into the Clyde as at first I -proposed, but left injunctions that they were to be sent -by the carrier. So, having paid all my debts, for my -father had kept me well appointed with money, I -waved a long farewell and set out for my own country.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="cousinly-affection">CHAPTER V</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">COUSINLY AFFECTION</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was near midday before I started, so that night -I got no farther than the town of Hamilton, but lay -at the inn there. The next morning I left betimes, -thinking to reach Barns in the afternoon. As I rode -along the green sward by the side of Clyde, the larks -were singing in the sky and the trout were plashing in -the waters, and all the world was gay. The apple -orchards sent their blossom across the road, and my -hat brushed it down in showers on my horse and -myself, so that soon we rode in a mail of pink and -white. I plucked a little branch and set it in my hat, -and sang all the songs I knew as I cantered along. -I cried good-day to every man, and flung money to -the little children who shouted as I passed, so that I -believe if there had been many more boys on the road -I would have reached Tweeddale a beggar. At -Crossford, where the Nethan meets the Clyde, I met a man -who had been to the salmon-fishing and had caught a -big salmon-trout; and as I looked, my old love for -the sport awoke within me, and I longed to feel a -rod in my hand. It was good to be alive, to taste -the fresh air, to feel the sun and wind, and I -cried a plague on all close lecture-rooms and musty -books.</p> -<p class="pnext">At Lanark I had a rare dinner at the hostel there. -The grey old inn had excellent fare, as I knew of old, -so I rode up to the door and demanded its best. It was -blessed to see a man obey your words after for many -months being a servant of others. I had a dish of -well-fed trout and a piece of prime mutton and as -good claret, I think, as I have ever tasted. Then I -rode over Lanark Moor to Hyndford and through the -moor of Carmichael and under the great shadow of -Tintock. Here the smell of burning heather came to -my nostrils, and so dear and homelike did it seem that -I could have wept for very pleasure. The whaups -and snipe were making a fine to-do on the bent, and -the black-faced sheep grazed in peace. At the top -of the knowe above Symington I halted, for there -before my eyes were the blue hills of Tweeddale. -There was Trehenna and the hills above Broughton, -and Drummelzier Law and Glenstivon Dod, and -nearer, the great Caerdon; and beyond all a long blue -back which I knew could be none other than the hill -of Scrape which shadowed Dawyck and my lady.</p> -<p class="pnext">I came to Barns at three o'clock in the afternoon, -somewhat stiff from my ride, but elated with my -home-coming. It was with strange feelings that I -rode up the long avenue of beeches, every one of -which I could have told blindfold. The cattle looked -over the palings at me as if glad to see me return. -Maisie cocked up her ears at the hares in the grass, -and sniffed the hill air as if she had been in a prison -for many days. And when I came to the bend of the -road and saw the old weatherbeaten tower, my heart -gave a great leap within me, for we Tweeddale men -dearly love our own countryside, doubtless by reason -of its exceeding beauty.</p> -<p class="pnext">As I rode up Tam Todd came out from the back, -and seeing me, let fall the water which he was -carrying and ran to my side.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, Maister John," said he, "I'm blithe to see -ye back, sae braw and genty-like. My airm's fair -like timmer wi' stiffness for want o' the backsword -play, and the troots in Tweed are turned as thick as -peas for want o' you to haul them oot; and twae -mornings last week there were deer keekin' in at the -front-door as tame as kittlins. There's muckle need -o' ye at hame."</p> -<p class="pnext">He would have gone on in this strain for an hour, -had I not cut him short by asking for my father.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Middlin', just middlin'. He misses ye sair. -He'll scarce gang out-doors noo, but he'll be a' richt -gin he sees ye again. Oh, and I've something mair -to tell ye. That wanchancy cousin o' yours, Maister -Gilbert, cam yestreen, and he'll be bidin' till the deil -kens when. I'se warrant he's at meat wi' the auld -maister the noo, for he cam in frae the hills geyan -hungry."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now at this intelligence I was not over-pleased. -My cousin was a great man and a gentleman, but -never at any time over-friendly to me, and I knew that -to my father he was like salt in the mouth. I blamed -the ill-luck which had sent him to Barns on the -very day of my home-coming. I needs must be on -my dignity in his company, for he was quick to find -matter for laughter, and it was hard that he should -come at the time when I longed so eagerly for the -free ways of the house. However, there was no help -for it, I reflected, and went in.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the passage I met Jean Morran, my old nurse, -who had heard the sound of voices, and come out to -see who the newcomer might be. "Maister John, -Maister John, and is't yoursel'? It's a glad day for -the house o' Barns when you come back"; and -when I gave her the shawl-pin I had brought her from -Glasgow, she had scarce any words to thank me with. -So, knowing that my father would be in the dining-hall -with his guest, I opened the door and walked -in unbidden.</p> -<p class="pnext">My father sat at the head of the long oak table -which had been scoured to a light-brown and shone like -polished stone. Claret, his favourite drink, was in -a tankard by his elbow, and many wines decked the -board. Lower down sat my cousin, gallantly dressed -in the fashion of the times, with a coat of fine Spanish -leather and small-clothes of some rich dark stuff. His -plumed hat and riding cloak of purple velvet lay on -the settle at his side. His brown hair fell over his -collar and shoulders and well set off his strong, brown -face. He sat after the fashion of a soldier, on the -side of his chair half-turned away from the table, and -every now and then he would cast a piece of meat to -Pierce, my old hound, who lay stretched by the fireplace.</p> -<p class="pnext">My father turned round as I entered, and when he -saw me his face glowed with pleasure. Had we been -alone we should have met otherwise, but it is not -meet to show one's feelings before a stranger, even -though that stranger be one of the family. He -contented himself with looking eagerly upon me and -bidding me welcome in a shaking voice. I marked -with grief that his eye did not seem so keen and brave -as before, and that he was scarce able to rise from his -chair.</p> -<p class="pnext">My cousin half arose and made me a grand bow in -his courtly fashion.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Welcome, my dear cousin," said he. "I am -glad to see that your studies have had little effect on -your face." (I was flushed with hard riding.) "You -look as if you had just come from a campaign. But -fall to. Here are prime fish which I can commend; -and venison, also good, though I have had better. -Here, too, is wine, and I drink to your success, my -learned cousin"; and he filled his glass and drank it -at a gulp. He spoke in a half-bantering tone, though -his words were kindly. I answered him briskly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I had little thought to find you here, Gilbert, but -I am right glad to see you. You are prospering -mightily, I hear, and will soon be forgetting your poor -cousins of Barns"; and after a few more words I set -myself to give my father a history of my doings -at Glasgow College. Again, had we been alone, I -should have told him my causes for leaving and my -wishes for my after life, but since my cousin was -present, who had ever a sharp tongue, I judged it -better to say nothing.</p> -<p class="pnext">I told my father all that I could think of, and then -asked how he had fared in my absence, for I had had -but few letters, and what of note had happened at -Barns.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, John," he said, "I'm an old man. I fear -that my life here will be short. I scarce can get -outside without Tam Todd to lean on, and I have little -sleep o' nights. And John, I could wish that you -would bide at home now, for I like to see you beside -me, and you'll have learned all the folk of Glasgow -have to teach you. I once wished you a soldier, but -I am glad now that I let the thing blow by, for I -would have cared little to have you coming here but -once in the six months, for a flying visit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, uncle," said my cousin, "you do not put -the matter fairly. For myself, I believe there is none -busier in Scotland than I, but, Gad, I have always -time to slip home to Eaglesham for a day or more. -But my father would care little though he never saw -me but once in the year, for each time I go back I -get a long sermon on my conduct, with my expenses -for the year as a text, till I am fairly driven out of the -house for peace."</p> -<p class="pnext">At this my father laughed. "Ay, ay," said he, -"that's like my brother Gilbert. He was always a -hard man at the siller. Man, I mind when we were -both the terrors o' the place, but all the while not a -thing would he do, if it meant the loss of a bodle. -Pity but I had taken after him in that, and John -would have been better supplied to-day."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh," I answered, "I have all I need and more."</p> -<p class="pnext">Hereupon my cousin spoke with a sneer in his -voice. "A groat is enough for a scholar, but the -soldier must have a crown. Your scholar, as doubtless -John can tell, is content if he have a sad-coloured -suit, some musty books, and a stoup of bad wine; but -your fine gentleman must have his horses and servants, -and dress himself like his quality for all the maids to -stare at, and have plenty of loose silver to fling to the -gaping crowd; and he is a poor fellow indeed if he -do not eat and drink the best that each tavern can -give. As for me, I would as soon be a clown in the -fields as a scholar, with apologies to my cousin"; -and he made me another of his mocking bows.</p> -<p class="pnext">I answered as gently as I could that gentrice did -not consist in daintiness of eating and drinking or -boisterous display, and that in my opinion nothing -gave so fine a flavour to gentility as a tincture of -letters; but my father changed the conversation by -asking Gilbert what he had been after that day.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Faith, it would be hard to say," said he. "I -got a gun from that long-legged, sour-faced groom and -went up the big hill above the trees to have a shot at -something. I killed a couple of hares and sprung an -old muirfowl; but the day grew warm and I thought -that the wood would make a pleasant shade, so I e'en -turned my steps there and went to sleep below a great -oak, and dreamed that I ran a man through the bowels -for challenging my courage. It was an ill-omened -dream, and I expected to meet with some mishap to -account for it ere I got back, but I saw nothing except -a lovely girl plucking primroses by the water side. -Zounds, Jock, what a fool you must be never to have -found out this beauty! She had hair like gold and -eyes like sapphires. I've seen many a good-looking -wench, but never one like her."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what did you do?" I asked, with my heart -beating wildly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do," he laughed. "Your scholar would have -passed in silence and written odes to her as Venus or -Helen for months; whereas I took off my bonnet and -made haste to enter into polite conversation. But -this girl would have none of me; she's a rose, I -warrant, with a pretty setting of thorns. She tripped -away, and when I made to follow her, became Madam -Fine-airs at once, and declared that her servants were -within easy reach, so I had better have a care of my -conduct."</p> -<p class="pnext">My father shot a sharp glance at me, and addressed -my cousin. "The maid would be Marjory Veitch, -old Sir John's daughter, at Dawyck. He, poor -man, has gone to his account, and her brother is -abroad, so the poor girl is lonely enough in that great -house. John and she have been friends from the -time they were children. She has come here, too, -and a pretty, modest lass she is, though she favours -her mother rather than her father's folk."</p> -<p class="pnext">At this intelligence my cousin whistled long and -low. "So, so," said he, "my scholar has an eye -in his head, has he? And Dawyck is not far off, -and—well, no wonder you do not care for the military -profession. Though, let me tell you, it is as well for -the course of true love that there are few cavaliers in -this countryside, else Mistress Marjory might have -higher notions."</p> -<p class="pnext">I answered nothing, for, though I loved Marjory -well, and thought that she loved me, I had never -spoken to her on the matter; for from childhood we -had been comrades and friends. So I did not care to -reply on a matter which I regarded as so delicate and -uncertain.</p> -<p class="pnext">My cousin was a man who grew sorely vexed by -receiving no answer from the object of his wit; and, -perhaps on this account, he went further than he -meant in his irritation. "Nay, John," he went on, -"you're but a sorry fellow at the best, with your tags -from the Latin, and your poor spirit. I am one of the -meanest of His Majesty's soldiers, but I can outride -you, I can beat you at sword-play, at mark-shooting, -at all manly sports. I can hold my head before the -highest in the land; I can make the vulgar bow before -me to the ground. There are no parts of a gentleman's -equipment in which I am not your better."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now, had we been alone, I should not have -scrupled to fling the lie in his teeth, and offer to settle the -matter on the spot. But I did not wish to excite my -father in his feeble health, so I made no reply -beyond saying that events would show the better man. -My father, however, took it upon himself to defend -me. "Peace, Gilbert," he said. "I will not have -my son spoken thus of in my own house. He has -as much spirit as you, I'll warrant, though he is less -fond of blowing his own trumpet." I saw with -annoyance that my father plainly thought my conduct -cowardly, and would have been better pleased had I -struck my cousin then and there. But I knew how -cruelly excited he would be by the matter, and, in his -weakness, I feared the result. Also, the man was -our guest, and my cousin.</p> -<p class="pnext">When we rose from supper I assisted my father in -walking to his chair by the fire; for, though the -weather was mild and spring-like, his blood was so -impoverished that he felt the cold keenly. Then my -cousin and myself strolled out of doors to the green -lawn, below which Tweed ran low and silvery clear. -I felt anger against him, yet not so much as I would -have felt towards another man, had he used the same -words; for I knew Gilbert to be of an absurd -boasting nature, which made him do more evil than he -had in his heart. Still my honour, or pride (call it -what you please), was wounded, and I cast about me -for some way to heal it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gilbert," I said, "we have both done much -work to-day, so we are both about equally wearied."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maybe," said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But your horse is fresh, and a good one, as I -know; and you are a good horseman, as you say -yourself. You had much to say about my poor -horsemanship at supper. Will you try a race with me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He looked at me scornfully for a minute. "Nay, -there is little honour to be got from that. You -knew the ground, and your horse, for all I know, -may be swifter than mine. It was not of horses I -spoke, but of the riders."</p> -<p class="pnext">"In the race which I offer you," I answered, -"we will both start fair. Do you see yon rift in the -hill beyond Scrape? It is the Red Syke, a long dark -hole in the side of the hill. I have never ridden there, -for the ground is rough and boggy, and I have never -heard of a horseman there since Montrose's rising. -Will you dare to ride with me to yonder place and -back?"</p> -<p class="pnext">At this my cousin's face changed a little, for he -had no liking for breaking his neck on the wild hills. -And now, when I look back on the proposal, it seems -a mad, foolhardy one in very truth. But then we -were both young and spirited, and reckless of our -lives.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mount and ride," said he. "I'll be there and -back before you are half-road, unless, indeed, I have -to carry you home."</p> -<p class="pnext">Together we went round to the stables, and I -saddled a black horse of my father's, for Maisie had -already travelled far that day. The Weasel, we called -him, for he was long and thin in the flanks, with a -small head, and a pointed muzzle. He was -viciously ill-tempered, and would allow no groom to -saddle him; but before I had gone to Glasgow I had -mounted and ridden him bareback up and down the -channel of Tweed till he was dead-beat, and I -half-drowned and shaken almost to pieces. Ever since -this escapade he had allowed me to do what I liked -with him; and, though I did not find him as pleasant -to ride as the incomparable Maisie, yet I knew his -great strength and alertness. My cousin's horse was -a good cavalry charger, strong, but, as I thought, -somewhat too heavy in the legs for great endurance.</p> -<p class="pnext">We mounted and rode together out among the trees -to the fields which bordered on the hills. I was sore -in the back when I started, but, after the first -half-mile, my sprightliness returned, and I felt fit to ride -over Broad Law. My cousin was in an ill mood, for -the sport was not to his taste, though he felt bound -in honour to justify his words.</p> -<p class="pnext">The spur of Scrape, which we came to, was called, -by the country people, the Deid Wife, for there an -Irish woman, the wife of one of Montrose's camp -followers, had been killed by the folk of the place -after the rout at Philiphaugh. We had much ado -to keep our horses from slipping back, for the loose -stones which covered the face of the hill gave a feeble -foothold. The Weasel took the brae like a deer, but -my cousin's heavy horse laboured and panted sorely -before it reached the top. Before us stretched the -long upland moors, boggy, and cleft with deep -ravines, with Scrape on the right, and straight in -front, six miles beyond, the great broad crest of Dollar -Law. Here we separated, my cousin riding forward, -while I thought the road to the left would be the -surer. Clear before us lay the Red Syke, an ugly -gash, into which the setting sun was beginning to cast -his beams.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now I found myself in a most perilous position. -The Weasel's feet were light and touchy, and -he stumbled among the stones and tall heather till I -had sore work to keep my seat. My cousin's horse -was of a heavier make, and I could see it galloping -gallantly over the broken ground. I cheered my steed -with words, and patted his neck, and kept a tight -hand on the rein. Sometimes we slipped among the -shingle, and sometimes stumbled over rocks half-hid -in brackens. Then we passed into a surer place -among short, burned heather. The dry twigs gave -forth a strange, creaking sound as the horse's feet trod -on them, and puffs of grey dust and ashes, the sign -of the burning, rose at every step. Then, beyond -this, we went to a long stretch of crisp mountain -grass, pleasant for both horse and rider. We -splashed through little tumbling burns, and waded -through pools left by the spring rains. But, of a -sudden, the ground grew softer, and even the Weasel's -light weight could not pass in safety. At one time, -indeed, I reined him back just on the brink of a -treacherous well-eye, from which neither of us would -have returned. I cast a glance at my cousin, who -was still ahead; his heavy charger was floundering -wearily, and he lashed it as if his life were at stake. -Then we passed the green bog and came to a great -peat-moss, full of hags, where the shepherds had -been casting peats. Here the riding was more -difficult, for the holes whence the peats had come were -often some five feet deep, and it was no easy matter -to get a horse out of that treacherous black mud. -The Weasel did gallantly, and only once did I -dismount, when his hind feet were too deeply sunk to -permit him to leap. Beyond me I saw my cousin, -riding swiftly, for the middle of the moss, as it -chanced, was the firmest and evenest place. We -were now scarce a hundred yards from the ravine of -the Red Syke, and, even as I looked, I saw him reach -it, rest a second to give his horse breathing-space, and -then turn on his homeward way.</p> -<p class="pnext">I came to the place a minute after, and having -compassion on my brave horse, I dismounted, and -eased him of my weight for a little. Then I got on -his back again and set off. Gilbert I saw before me, -riding, as I thought, in the worst part, and with a -fury that must tell sooner or later on his heavy steed. -I had scarce been a moment in the saddle, when, so -strange are the ways of horses, the Weasel became -aware, for the first time, of the other in front. -Before, it had been a toil for him, now it became a -pleasure, a race, which it lay with his honour to win. He -cocked up his wicked, black ears, put down his head, -and I felt the long legs gathering beneath me. I -cried aloud with delight, for now I knew that no horse -in Tweeddale could hope to match him when the -mood was on him. He flew over the hags as if he -had been in a paddock; he leaped among the hard -parts of the green bog, from tussock to tussock, as -skilfully as if he had known nothing but mosses all -his days. We came up with Gilbert at the edge of -the rough ground, lashing on his horse, with his face -flushed and his teeth set. We passed him like the -wind, and were galloping among the rocks and -brackens, while he was painfully picking his steps. A -merciful providence must have watched over the -Weasel's path that day, for never horse ran so -recklessly. Among slippery boulders and cruel jagged -rocks and treacherous shingle he ran like a hare. I -grew exultant, laughed, and patted his neck. The -sun was setting behind us, and we rode in a broad -patch of yellow light. In a trice we were on the -brow of the Deid Wife. Down we went, slipping -yards at a time, now doubling along the side; -sometimes I was almost over the horse's head, sometimes -all but off the tail; there was never, since the two -daft lairds rode down Horsehope Craig, such a madcap -ride. I scarce know how I reached the foot in safety: -but reach it I did, and rode merrily among the trees -till I came to the green meadowlands about the house -of Barns. Here I dismounted and waited for my -cousin, for I did not care to have the serving-men -laugh at him riding in after me.</p> -<p class="pnext">I waited a good half-hour before he appeared. A -sorry sight he presented. His breeches and jerkin -had more than one rent in them; his hat was gone; -and his face was flushed almost crimson with effort. -His horse had bleeding knees, and its shoulders shook -pitifully.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Pardon me, Gilbert," I said in a fit of repentance; -"it was a foolish thing in me to lead you such a -senseless road. I might have known that your horse -was too heavy for the work. It was no fault of -yours that you did not come home before me. I -trust that we may forget our quarrels, and live in -friendship, as kinsmen should."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Friendship be damned," he cried in a mighty rage.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="how-master-gilbert-burnet-played-a-game-and-was-checkmated">CHAPTER VI</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">HOW MASTER GILBERT BURNET PLAYED A GAME -AND WAS CHECKMATED</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">That night I was too wearied and sore in body to -sleep. My mind also was troubled, for I had made -an enemy of my cousin, who, as I knew, was not of -a nature to forgive readily. His words about Marjory -had put me into a ferment of anxiety. Here was my -love, bound to me by no promise, at the mercy of all -the gallants of the countryside. Who was I, to call -myself her lover, when, as yet, no word of love had -passed between us? Yet, in my inmost heart, I -knew that I might get the promise any day I chose. -Then thoughts of my cousin came to trouble me. I -feared him no more than a fly in matters betwixt man -and man; but might he not take it into his head to -make love to the mistress of Dawyck? and all maids -dearly love a dashing cavalier. At length, after much -stormy indecision, I made up my mind. I would ride -to Dawyck next morn and get my lady's word, and -so forestall Gilbert, or any other.</p> -<p class="pnext">I woke about six o'clock; and, looking out from -the narrow window, for Barns had been built three -hundred years before, I saw that the sky was -cloudless and blue, and the morning as clear as could be -seen in spring. I hastily dressed, and, getting some -slight breakfast from Jean Morran, saddled Maisie, -who was now as active as ever, and rode out among -the trees. I feared to come to Dawyck too early, -so I forded Tweed below the island, and took the -road up the further bank by Lyne and Stobo. All -the world was bright; an early lark sang high in the -heaven; merles and thrushes were making fine music -among the low trees by the river. The haze was -lifting off the great Manor Water hills; the Red -Syke, the scene of the last night's escapade, looked -very distant in the morning light; and far beyond all -Dollar Law and the high hills about Manorhead were -flushed with sunlight on their broad foreheads. A -great gladness rose in me when I looked at the hills, -for they were the hills of my own country; I knew -every glen and corrie, every water and little burn. -Before me the Lyne Water hills were green as grass -with no patch of heather, and to the left, the mighty -form of Scrape, half-clothed in forest, lay quiet and -sunlit. I know of no fairer sight on earth; and this -I say, after having travelled in other countries, and -seen something of their wonders; for, to my mind, -there is a grace, a wild loveliness in Tweedside, like -a flower-garden on the edge of a moorland, which is -wholly its own.</p> -<p class="pnext">I crossed Lyne Water by the new bridge, just -finished in the year before, and entered the wood of -Dawyck. For this great forest stretches on both sides -of Tweed, though it is greater on the side on which -stands the house. In the place where I rode it was -thinner, and the trees smaller, and, indeed, around -the little village of Stobo, there lies an open part of -some fields' width. At the little inn there, I had a -morning's draught of ale, for I was somewhat cold -with riding in the spring air. Then I forded -Tweed at a place called the Cow Ford, and, riding -through a wide avenue of lime-trees, came in sight -of the grey towers of Dawyck.</p> -<p class="pnext">I kept well round to the back, for I did not care -that the serving-folk should see me and spread tales -over all the countryside. I knew that Marjory's -window looked sharp down on a patch of green lawn, -bordered by lime-trees, so I rode into the shadow and -dismounted. I whistled thrice in a way which I had, -and which Marjory had learned to know long before, -when we were children, and I used to come and -beguile her out for long trampings among the hills. -To-day it had no effect, for the singing of birds -drowned my notes, so I had nothing left but to throw -bits of bark against her window. This rude -expedient met with more success than it deserved, for in a -minute I saw her face behind the glass. She smiled -gladly when she saw me, and disappeared, only to -appear again in the little door beside the lilacs. She -had no hat, so her bright hair hung loose over her -neck and was blown about by the morning winds. -Her cheeks were pink and white, like apple-blossom, -and her lithe form was clad in a dress of blue velvet, -plainly adorned as for a country maiden. A spray of -lilac was in her breast, and she carried a bunch of -sweet-smelling stuff in her hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">She came gladly towards me, her eyes dancing with -pleasure. "How soon you have returned! And how -brave you look," said she, with many more pretty -and undeserved compliments.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, Marjory," I answered, "I have come back -to Tweeddale, for I have had enough of Glasgow -College and books, and I was wearying for the hills -and Tweed and a sight of your face. There are no -maidens who come near to you with all their finery. -You are as fair as the spring lilies in the garden at -Barns."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, John," she laughed, "where did you -learn to pay fine compliments? You will soon be as -expert at the trade as any of them. I met a man -yesterday in the woods who spoke like you, though -with a more practised air; but I bade him keep his -fine words for his fine ladies, for they suited ill with -the hills and a plain country maid."</p> -<p class="pnext">At this, I must suppose that my brows grew dark, -for she went on laughingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, you are not jealous? It ill becomes a -scholar and a philosopher as you are, Master John, to -think so much of an idle word. Confess, sir, that you -are jealous. Why, you are as bad as a lady in a play."</p> -<p class="pnext">I could not make out her mood, which was a new -one to me—a mocking pleasant raillery, which I took -for the rightful punishment of my past follies.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am not jealous," I said, "for jealousy is a -feeling which needs an object ere it can exist. No -man may be jealous, unless he has something to be -jealous about."</p> -<p class="pnext">"John, John," she cried, and shook her head -prettily, "you are incorrigible. I had thought you -had learned manners in the town, and behold, you are -worse than when you went away. You come here, -and your first word to me is that I am nothing."</p> -<p class="pnext">"God knows," I said, "I would fain be jealous, -and yet—" I became awkward and nervous, for I -felt that my mission was not prospering, and that I -was becoming entangled in a maze of meaningless -speech. The shortest and plainest way is still the best -in love as in all things.</p> -<p class="pnext">But I was not to be let off, and she finished my -sentence for me. "If only you could find a worthy -object for your feeling, you mean," she said. -"Very well, sir, since I am so little valued in your -eyes, we will speak no more on the matter."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marjory," I said, coming to the matter at once, -"you and I have been old comrades. We have fished -and walked together, we have climbed the hills and -ridden in the meadows. I have done your bidding -for many years."</p> -<p class="pnext">"True, John," she said with an accent of grudging -reminiscence, "you have dragged me into many -a pretty pickle. I have torn my dress on rough -rocks and soaked my shoes in bogs, all in your -company. Surely we have had a brave time together."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You met a man in the wood yesterday who -would fain have made love to you. That man was -my cousin Gilbert."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh," she replied in a tone of mock solemnity -and amused wonder, for I had blurted out my last -words like the last dying confession of some prisoner. -"Verily you are honoured in your cousinship, John."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is against him and such as him that I would -protect you," I said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," she cried, with an affected remonstrance. -"I will have no fighting between cousins on my -account. I will even defend myself, as Alison did -when the miller made love to her."</p> -<p class="pnext">"O Marjory," I burst out, "will you not give -me this right to defend you? We have been old -companions, but it was only yesterday that I knew -how dearly I loved you. I have had more cares since -yester-night than ever in my life. We have been -comrades in childhood; let us be comrades on the -rough paths of the world."</p> -<p class="pnext">I spoke earnestly, and her face, which had been -filled with mockery, changed gently to something -akin to tenderness.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How little you know of women!" she cried. -"I have loved you for years, thinking of you at all -times, and now you come to-day, speaking as if you -had scarce seen me before. Surely I will bear you -company in life, as I have been your comrade at its -beginning."</p> -<p class="pnext">What followed I need scarce tell, since it is but part -of the old comedy of life, which our grandfathers and -grandmothers played before us, and mayhap our -grand-children will be playing even now when our back is -turned. Under the spring sky among the lilies we -plighted our troth for the years, and I entered from -careless youth into the dim and resolute region of manhood.</p> -<p class="pnext">With a great joy in my heart I rode home. I took -the high way over the shoulder of Scrape, for I knew -that few folk ever went that road, and I wished to be -alone. The birds were singing, the fresh clean air -was blowing on my face, and the primroses and -wind-flowers made a gay carpet under my horse's feet. All -the earth seemed to partake in my gladness. It was -a good world, I thought, full of true hearts, fair faces, -and much good; and though I have seen much -wickedness and sorrow in my day, I am still of the same -way of thinking. It is a brave world; a royal world -for brave-hearted men.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I came to Barns I found that my cousin had -gone out an hour since and left my father greatly -wondering at my absence. He sat in the chair by the -fireplace, looking more withered and old than I had -ever seen him. My heart smote me for not staying -at his side, and so I sat down by him and told him -many things of my doings in Glasgow, and how I -desired above all things to see the world, having had -my fill of books and colleges. Then I told him what -he had long guessed, of my love for Marjory Veitch -and the promise which she had given me. He heard -me in silence, but when he spoke, his words were -cheerful, for he had long liked the lass. He made no -refusal, too, to the rest of my plans. "You shall go -and see the world, John," he said, "and take my -blessing with you. It ill becomes a young -mettlesome lad in these stirring times to lounge at home, -when he might be wearing a steel breastplate in the -King's Guards, or trying the manners of twenty -nations. Though I could wish you to bide at home, -for I am an old broken man with few pleasures, and I -love the sight of your face."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, I will never leave you," I said, "an you -wish it. I am young yet and a boy's road is a long -road. Time enough for all."</p> -<p class="pnext">After this I went out to see if the Weasel had come -to any mishap in the last night's ride. I found him -as stout as ever, so I saddled him and rode away by -the green haughlands up the valley of the Manor, for -I longed for motion and air to relieve my spirit: and -coming home in the afternoon, I found my cousin -returned and sitting with my father in the dining-hall.</p> -<p class="pnext">He glanced sharply at me when I entered, and I -saw by his looks that he was in no good temper. His -heavy face was flushed and his shaggy eyebrows were -lowered more than their wont.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where have you been, Gilbert?" I asked. "I -found you gone when I came back in the morning."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I took my horse down to Peebles to the farrier. -Its knees were sorely hurt last night on your infernal -hills."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I knew that this was a lie, for I had looked -at his horse before I went out in the morning, and its -wounds were so slight that it would have been mere -folly to take him to a farrier; and Gilbert, I well knew, -was not the man to be in error where horses were -concerned. So I judged that he had ridden in the -contrary direction, and gone to Dawyck, and, as I -inferred from his sour looks, met with no good -reception there. I could afford to be generous; I felt a -sort of half-pity for his discomfiture, and forbore to -ask him any further questions.</p> -<p class="pnext">We sat down to supper, he and I and my father, in -a sober frame of mind. I was full of my own thoughts, -which were of the pleasantest; my cousin was plainly -angry with something or other; and my father, in his -weakness dimly perceiving that all was not right, set -himself to mend matters by engaging him in talk.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You're a good shot with the musket, they tell -me, Gibbie," he said, using the old name which he -had called him by when he first came to Barns as a -boy, "and I was thinking that it would be a rare -ploy for you and John to go down the water to -Traquair, where Captain Keith's horse are lying. -He is an old friend of mine, and would be blithe to -see any of my kin. They tell me he has great trials -of skill in all exercises, and that he has gathered half -the gentry in the place about him."</p> -<p class="pnext">"John," said my cousin in a scornful voice, -"John is too busily employed at Dawyck to care much -for anything else. A flighty maid is a sore burden -on any man."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I would have you learn, Master Gilbert," I said -angrily, "to speak in a better way of myself and my -friends. You may be a very great gentleman -elsewhere, but you seem to leave your gentility behind -when you come here."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now my cousin and I were of such opposite natures -that I took most things seriously, while he found -matter for a jest in all—yet not in full good-nature, but -with a touch of acrid satire.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Even a barn-door cock will defend his own roost. -How one sees the truth of proverbs!"</p> -<p class="pnext">And then he added that which I will not set down, -but which brought my father and myself to our feet -with flashing eyes and quivering lips. I would have -spoken, but my father motioned me to be silent.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gilbert," he said, his voice shaking with age and -anger, "you will leave this house the morn. I will -have no scoundrelly fellow of your kidney here. You -are no true nephew of mine, and God pity the father -that begat you."</p> -<p class="pnext">My cousin smiled disdainfully and rose from his -chair. "Surely I will go and at once when my -hospitable uncle bids me. The entertainment in this -damned hole is not so good as to keep me long. As -for you, Cousin John," and he eyed me malignantly, -"you and I will meet some day, where there are -no dotards and wenches to come between us. Then -I promise you some sport. Till then, farewell. I -will down to Peebles to-night and trouble you no -more." With a wave of his hand he was gone, and -five minutes later we heard his horse's hooves clatter -over the stones of the yard.</p> -<p class="pnext">When he was gone his conduct came back to my -father with a rush, and he fell to upbraiding himself -for his breach of hospitality and family honour. He -would have me call Gilbert back, and when I showed -him how futile it was, fell into low spirits and repented -in great bitterness.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Now the worst of this day's business remains to -be told. For when I looked at my father some time -after I found him sunk in his chair with his face as -pale as death. With the help of Jean Morran and -Tam Todd I got him to bed, from which he never -rose, but passed peacefully away in the fear of God -two days later. The heat into which he had been -thrown was the direct cause, and though I could not -very well lay the thing to my cousin's charge when -the man was already so far down the vale of years, -yet in my heart I set it against him. Indeed from this -day I date my antagonism to the man, which before -had been a mere boyish rivalry.</p> -<p class="pnext">I stayed with my father to the end. Just before he -died he bade me come near and gave me his blessing, -bidding me be a better gentleman than he had been. -We did not bury him in the Kirk of Lyne, for he had -always said he never could abide to lie within walls. -but on a green flat above Tweed, where the echo of -the river and the crying of moorbirds are never absent -from his grave.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-pegasus-inn-at-peebles-and-how-a-stranger-returned-from-the-wars">CHAPTER VII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE PEGASUS INN AT PEEBLES AND HOW A STRANGER -RETURNED FROM THE WARS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Of my doings for some months after my father's -death I must tell hastily. I fell heir to the lands of -Barns, and being of age entered at once into my -possession. The place remained the same as in my -father's time, the same servants and the same ways -about the house. I lived simply as I had always -lived, spending my days in seeing to the land, in field -sports, and some little study, for I had not altogether -forsaken the Muses. But all the time I felt as one -who is kept at home against his will, being -conscious of a restlessness and an inclination to travel -which was new to me, but which I doubt not is -common to all young men at this time of life. I talked -much with Tam Todd of the lands which he had -visited, and heard of the Dutch towns with their strange -shipping, their canals and orderly houses, and of the -rough Norlanders, clad in the skins of wild animals, -who came down to the Swedish markets to trade; of -the soldiery of Germany and France and the Scots -who had gone over there to push their fortunes with -their swords; and what I loved best, of the salt sea -with its boundless waste of waters and wild tales of -shipwreck. Formerly I had been wont often to bid -Tam sharply to hold his peace when he entered on -one of his interminable narrations; but now I sat and -drank in every word like a thirsty man. It was the -winter-time, when the roads were often snowed up -and all the folk of the place gathered in the great -kitchen at nights round the fire; so it was the time -for stories and we had our fill of them.</p> -<p class="pnext">One blustering day, the first Monday, I think, after -the New Year, when the ice was beginning to melt -from the burns and a wet, cold wind from the -north-west was blowing, I rode down to Peebles to settle -some matters about money with Saunders Blackett, -who had managed my father's affairs and was now -intrusted with mine. All things were done to my -satisfaction; so bethinking myself that the way to -Barns was cold and long and that it was yet early in -the afternoon, being scarce four o'clock, I found -myself thinking pleasantly of the warm inn-parlour of the -<em class="italics">Pegasus</em>, so thither I went.</p> -<p class="pnext">The <em class="italics">Pegasus</em> or "Peg" Inn stands at the corner of -the Northgate and the High Street, a black-gabled -building, once the town-house of the Govans of -Cardrona, and still retaining marks of its gentility in the -arms carved above the door. A great sign flapped in -the wind, bearing on a white ground a gorgeous -representation of a winged horse soaring through clouds. -The landlord at this time was one Horsbrock, a portly, -well-looking man, who claimed to be kin to the -Horsbrocks of that ilk and held his chin two inches higher -in consequence. The place was famed in all the -country round for good wine and comfort.</p> -<p class="pnext">I stabled my horse and, bidding the host bring me -a bottle of Rhenish (so fine a thing it is to have -succeeded to lands and money), I went into the -low-ceilinged room where the company sat. It was panelled -in a darkish wood, and hung round with old weapons, -halberds and falchions and what not, which glimmered -brightly in the firelight. A narrow window gave it light, -but now it sufficed only to show the grey winter dusk -coming swiftly on. Around the fire sat some few of the -men of Peebles, warming themselves and discussing the -landlord's ale and the characters of their neighbours.</p> -<p class="pnext">They rose to give me welcome when I entered, for -my name and family were well known in the countryside.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's awfu' weather for man and beast, Laird," -said an old man with a bent back, but still hale and -hearty in the face. "A snawy winter I can abide, -and a wet yin, but drizzlin', dreepin', seepin' weather -wi' a wind that taks the heart out o' ye is mair than -my patience can stand."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You have little need to speak, you folk," I said, -"living in a well-paved town with stones beneath -your feet and nothing more to do than go round a -street corner all day. Up at Barns, with Tweed -swirling in at the yard gate, and the stables flowing -like a linn, and the wind playing cantrips day and -night in and out of the windows, you might talk."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, but, good sir," put in a thin voice which -came from a little man I had seen at the -bowling-green, "ye may thank the Lord for a roof abune -your heids and dry claes to put on, when sae many -godly folks are hiding like pelicans in the wilderness -among the high hills and deep mosses. I bless the Lord -that my faither, that sant o' the Kirk, is not living in -thae evil times. He was a man o' a truly great spirit, -and had he been alive, I'se warrant he wad hae been -awa to join them. He was aye strong on his -conscience. 'John Look-up' so the godless called him. -'John Look-up,' said my mother, 'ye'll never be -pleased till we're a' joltin' in a cairt to the Grassmarket -o' Edinburgh. And a braw sicht ye'll be, hanging -there like a hoodie-craw wi' a' your bairns aside -ye.' Ay, these were often her words, for she had a -sarcastic tongue."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Jock Look-up, my man," said another, "I -kenned your faither a' his days, and he was na the man -to hang. He lookit up and he lookit a' ways. He -was yin whae could baith watch and pray. Gin ye -were mair like him, ye wad be a mair thrivin' man."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Aboot the hill-folk," said the old man who had -first spoken, drinking his ale and turning up the -measure to see that no more was left, "did ye ever hear o' -my son Francie and what happened to him when he gaed -awa to Moffat wi' 'oo'? He gaed ower by Traquair -and keepit the road till he got to Moffat, for he had -a horse that wasna ower sure o' its feet on the hills. -But when he had it a' sellt, whae does he meet in wi' -but Wull Hislop the travelling packman, whae's sair -needing a beast. So Francie sells him his horse and -comes aff hame walking ower the muirs. He gaed -up Moffat Water and ower the muckle hill they ca' -Corriefragauns, and got on nane sae bad till he cam -to the awfu' craigs abune Loch Skene. He was -walking briskly, thinking o' hame and the siller in his -pouch and how he wad win to Peebles that nicht, -when he saw afore him the awfu'est sicht that ever he -had seen. It was a man o' maybe the same heicht as -himsel, wi' a heid of red hair, and nae claes to speak -o', but just a kind o' clout about his middle. He -began to speak in an outlandish voice and Francie -kenned at yince that he maun be yin o' thae Hieland -deevils brocht doun to hunt up the Whigs. He was -for Francie's money, and he oot wi' a big knife and -flashed it up and doun. But this was no to Francie's -liking. 'Put that doun, ye ill-looking deevil,' says -he, 'ye'll find I'm nane o' your hill-folk, but an -honest man frae Peebles wi' a nieve as hard as your -heid's saft, and if ye dinna let me by, I'll put ye in the -loch as sure as my name's Francie Trummle.' The -body understood him brawly, and wi' a grunt slunk -aff among the heather, and Francie had nae mair bother -wi' him. But O! it's an awfu' thing to think o' men o' -your ain blood hunted and killed wi' thae foreign craturs. -It maks me half-mindit to turn Whig mysel."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Dinna fash yoursel, Maister Trummle," said a -younger man, a farmer by his looks, "ye're better -bidin' in peace and quiet at hame. The Lord never -meant folk to gang among hills and peat-bogs, unless -after sheep. It's clean against the order o' things. -But there's yae thing that reconciles me to this -Whig-hunting. They're maistly wast-country folk, and -wast-country folk are an ill lot, aye shoving their -nebs where they're no want it. There's no mony -Whigs in Tweeddale. Na, na, they're ower canny."</p> -<p class="pnext">Master Turnbull made as if he would have answered, -when a clatter of feet was heard in the passage, -and the door opened. Two men entered, one a great -swarthy fellow well known for his poaching escapades -when the salmon came up the water, and the other, -Peter Crustcrackit the tailor. They did not enter in -company, for Peter swaggered in with as gallant an -air as two bent legs and a small body could permit, -while the other slunk in with a half-apologetic look, -glancing keenly round to see who were the other -occupants of the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The 'Peg' is honoured with your company -tonight, I see," said Peter, making a bow to me. -"'Tis the finest gathering that I remember: the Laird -o' Barns, worthy Maister Trumbull, myself, and my -honoured freend, Maister Simon Doolittle."</p> -<p class="pnext">The black fisher lifted his face from the ale which -the landlord had brought. "Your guid health, -gentlemen. I'm prood o' your company, though I'm no -just fit for't, since I'm no half an 'oor oot o' the -Dookit Pool."</p> -<p class="pnext">All eyes were turned to the speaker, and we saw -that his clothes hung limp and wet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And pray, how did you get there, Maister Doolittle? -Was't by the working o' Providence, or the -wiles o' sinfu' man?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"A mixture o' baith. I took a bit daunder up -Tweed to the Castle Rock to see how the water was -rinnin'. It's been raither grimily for fishin' o' late. -Ye a' ken the rocks that they're no exactly the sort -o' place that a man wad choose for dancin' a reel in -tackety boots. Weel, I was admiring the works o' -God as manifested in a big, deep, swirlin' hole, when -afore ever I kenned I was admirin' the hole frae the -middle o't. I was gey near chokit wi' Tweed -water, but I wabbled a bit, and syne grippit a birk -and held on."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a pause and he took a draught of ale.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel, I roared as loud as I could, and the auld -runt whae bides i' the Castle heard me. He cam -doun and askit me what was wrang. 'Wrang,' says -I. 'If ye dinna ca' ten feet o' water and you no able -to soom, wrang, I just wis ye were here yoursel.' So -he gangs cannily back and brings anither man to look -at me; and the twae thocht for a while, and then each -grippit an airm and after a gey wammlin' I got oot. -I was angry at their delay, for I couldna hae held on -muckle langer, so I kickit them baith an' cam aff here. -I've muckle need o' yill, fur I feel as if I had eaten -ten pund o' snaw."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come nearer the fire, Simon," said one. "Ye're -a muckle tried man."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm a' that," said the brown-faced poacher, and -relapsed into silence.</p> -<p class="pnext">The lights were now lit in the streets of Peebles, -as we could see by the glimmer through the windows; -but in our room no lamp was needed, for the bright -firelight was sufficient for a man to read a little book -by. The great shadows danced on the wall, bent and -crooked into a thousand phantasies; and the men by -the fire nodded and spoke little. Then the old man -Turnbull began an argument with the tailor about -some clothes in which he said he had been cheated; and -Peter Crustcrackit, never a quiet-tempered man, was -rejoining with vigour. I heard only fragments of their -talk, being taken up in dreaming of my future course, -and when I should go to see the world.</p> -<p class="pnext">The mild-mannered man, him they called John -Look-up, was sleeping in his chair, and his jug of ale -which he had emptied hung limply in his hand. In -a little it fell to the floor and rolled beneath his chair; -but the sleeper never stirred. The poacher sat -shrouded in vapour, which the heat of the fire had -brought out of his wet garments, and a mingled smell -of damp cloth and burning wood filled the room. -The discordant voices of the tailor and his antagonist -rose and fell, now sinking to a mumbled whisper, and -now rising to sharp recrimination. By and by they -came to an end of their dispute, and silence reigned -undisturbed; and I verily believe that in five minutes -we should all have been sound asleep, had not -something occurred to rouse us.</p> -<p class="pnext">This was no less than the entrance of another -guest. The door was flung open and a man entered, -swaggering with a great air and bearing into the -slumbrous place a breath of the outer world. He was the -finest man I had ever seen, two inches and more -taller than myself, who am not short, and clean -made as a greyhound. His face was tanned a deep -brown, and bare save for a yellow moustachio on his -upper lip. His hair hung long and fine over his -shoulders, setting off the erect poise of his head. He -had removed his cloak and hat, and showed a dress -of the height of fashion; his cravat was of delicate -foreign lace and the sash around his middle of the -finest silk. But what I marked especially were his -features, the thin, straight nose, the well-bred chin, and -the clear eyes; but for a certain weakness in the jaw -I should have called it the handsomest face I had ever -seen. More, it was a face that wis familiar to me. -I had seen the like of it before; but where I could -not tell, and I cudgelled my brains to think of it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah, my faith," said the stranger, speaking with -a foreign accent, "what have we here? A room-full -of sleepy citizens. Or drunk, egad, drunk, I believe."</p> -<p class="pnext">And he walked over to where Peter Crustcrackit -sat nodding, and stared in his face. Now the noise -wakened the rest; and Peter also, who sitting up with -a stupid air thought that he was still in the shop, and -cried hurriedly, "What d'ye lack, sir? Silks or satins -or plain kersey," and ran into a recital of his wares.</p> -<p class="pnext">The newcomer looked at him with an amused -smile. "It is not difficult to tell your profession, my -friend. The ninth of a man."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he surveyed the rest of us in turn with his -restless eyes, until his look fell upon me. He must -have marked something about my appearance distinct -from the others, for he bowed and addressed me politely.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You are not one of these fellows, I think. May -I ask the favour of your name? I have been long -absent from this country and have forgot faces."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You are welcome to it," said I. "They call -me John Burnet—of Barns," I added, for the first -time using my new-found title.</p> -<p class="pnext">He crossed to my side in an instant and held out -his hand. "Your hand, Master Burnet. You and -I should be well known to each other, for we shall be -near neighbours. You may have heard of Michael -Veitch of Dawyck, him that was soldiering abroad. -I am that same, returned like the prodigal from far -countries."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I knew where I had seen the face before. It -was but a coarse and manly counterpart of Marjory's, -though I fancied that hers was still the braver and -stronger, if all were told.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have often heard of you," I said, "and I am -glad to be the first to bid you welcome to your own -countryside. These are some men of the town, -honest fellows, who come here for their evening ale."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your health, gentlemen," he cried, bowing to -the company. "Landlord, bring ale and a bottle of -your best Burgundy till I pledge these honest fellows."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, sirs," I heard Peter Crustcrackit mutter -under his breath, "sic an invasion o' gentles. The -Northgate o' Peebles micht be the High Street o' -Embro', for a' the braw folk that are coming tae't. -I maun think aboot shifting my shop."</p> -<p class="pnext">It would be well on for eight o'clock ere Master -Veitch and I left the <em class="italics">Pegasus</em> to ride homeward. The -night was quieter and milder, and overhead a patch of -clear sky showed the stars. He had with him two -serving-men who carried his belongings, but they rode -some little distance behind. He was full of questions -about Dawyck and his kinsfolk there and the -countryside around; so I must needs tell him something -of what had passed between Marjory and myself. He -seemed not ill-pleased. "What," he cried, "little -Marjory, who was scarce higher than my knee when -I left! To think that she should have grown into a -woman already! And you say she is pretty?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Which question gave me much opportunity for -such talk as one must use when he feels the littleness -of words.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then he must ask me about myself, of my father, -of whose death he was ignorant, and what I purposed -to do. "For I doubt," said he, "that you will -have but a dull time of it at Barns in that great -desolate house. It little befits an active man to pine at -home like a mouse in a cell."</p> -<p class="pnext">So from one thing to another, he had me to tell -him of all my desires, of how I longed above all -things to travel and see the world; and he spoke to -me in such a fashion that ere we had come to the ford -of Tweed my intention was fixed to ride out like the -Spanish Don to see what might befall me.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-take-leave-of-my-friends">CHAPTER VIII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I TAKE LEAVE OF MY FRIENDS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The next month was, I think, the busiest in my -life. For from the evening of my meeting with -Michael Veitch my mind was firmly made up to go -to travel abroad, and with this determination came all -the countless troubles which a man must meet before -he can leave his home. I was busy night and day, -now down at Peebles, now riding up Manor and all -over the Barns lands, seeing that all things were in -right order ere my departure. I got together all the -money I desired, and with drafts on the Dutch bankers, -which the lawyer folk in Edinburgh got for me, -I was in no danger of falling into poverty abroad.</p> -<p class="pnext">On Tam Todd I laid the management of all things -in my absence; and Tam, much impressed by his -responsibility, though it was a task which he had really -undertaken long before in the later years of my father's -life, went about his work with a serious, preoccupied -air, as of Atlas with the world on his shoulders. I -had much ado in getting ready my baggage for the -journey, for I wished to take little, being confident -that I could buy all things needful abroad. Jean -Morran, on the other hand, would have had me take -half the plenishing of the house of Barns, from linen -sheets to fresh-kirned butter, for I could not persuade -her to think otherwise than that I was going into a -desolate land among heathen savages.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then I had to visit many folk up and down Tweed -to take farewell; and I had so many letters given me -to men of standing abroad, that, if I had delivered -them all, I should have had to spend more time than -I cared. One I valued more than any other—a -letter written by Master Gilbert Burnet, of London, -to a professor in the university of Leyden—which I -hoped would bring me into the company of scholars. -For I had changed my original intention of going to -the wars, first, because I found on examination that, -in my inmost heart, I had that hankering after -learning which would never be sated save by a life with -some facilities for study; second, because, now that I -was the sole member of the house, it behooved me to -bide on the land and see to it, and any such thing as -soldiering would keep me away for too great a time. -I sent, too, to the College Library at Glasgow, for all -the books on the Low Countries to be had, and spent -much profitable time reading of the history of the -place, and how the land lay.</p> -<p class="pnext">During these days I was much in the company of -the new master of Dawyck, and a most delectable -comrade I found him. He had a vast stock of tales -and jests, collected in his travels, with which he -would amuse his friends; he was something of a -scholar, and could talk learnedly when he chose; and -he was expert at all outdoor sports, pressing me hard at -the sword-play, in which I prided myself on my skill. -He was of a free, generous nature, and singularly -courteous to all, high and low, rich and poor alike. -Yet, with all these excellencies, there was much that -I liked ill about him, for he was over-fond of -resorting to the taverns at Peebles, where he would muddle -his wits in the company of his inferiors. His life -at Dawyck was none of the most regular, though, -indeed, I have little cause to blame him, being none -so good myself; though the vice of over-indulging in -wine was one that Providence always mercifully kept -me from.</p> -<p class="pnext">He came perhaps every third day to Barns to ride -with me in the haugh, and he would abide to supper-time, -or even over night, making me fear for Marjory's -peace of mind. To his sister he was most dutiful -and kind, and I was glad to think that now the days -might be more pleasant for her with her brother in -the house. And it pleased me to think that when -I went abroad, my lady would be left in no bad -keeping.</p> -<p class="pnext">The days, the short January days, passed quickly -over my head, and, almost ere I knew, the time had -come for my departure. And now, when the hour -came so nigh, I felt some pain at the thought of -leaving home and my beloved countryside for unknown -places; though, to tell the truth, such thoughts were -not ill to dispel by the contemplation of the pleasures -in prospect. Yet it was with mingled feelings that -I rode over to Dawyck on a sharp Monday afternoon -to bid Marjory farewell.</p> -<p class="pnext">I found her in the low, dim room, looking to the -west, where she was wont to sit in winter. A great -fire crackled cheerily on the hearth, and many little -devices about the place showed a woman's hand. -Holly, with scarlet berries, put colour into the sombre -walls, and Marjory herself, brighter than any flower, -made the firelight dull in the contrast; so fair she -looked, as she greeted me, with her bright hair and -unfathomable eyes.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have come to see you for the last time, -Marjory," I said; "to-morrow I set out on my travels."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am vexed that you are going away," and she -looked at me sadly; "it will be lonely in Tweeddale -without you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"My dear lass, I will not be long. Two years at -the longest, and then I will be home to you, and travel -no more. What say you, Marjory?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your will be done, John. Yet I would I could -have gone with you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I would you could, my dear," I said. "But -that might scarce be. You would not like, I think, -to sail on rough seas, or bide among towns and -colleges. You love the woods too well."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Wherever you were," said she, with her eyes -drooped, "I would be content to be."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But Marjory, lass," I spoke up cheerfully, for -I feared to make her sad, "you would not like me to -stay at home, when the world is so wide, and so many -brave things to be seen."</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, no. I have no love for folks who bide in -the house like children. I would have you go and do -gallantly, and come home full of fine tales. But where -do you mean to go, and how will you pass your time?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh," said I, "I go first to Rotterdam, where -I may reside for a while. Then I purpose to visit -the college at Leyden, to study; for I would fain spend -some portion of my time profitably. After that I -know not what I will do, but be sure that I will be -home within the two years. For, though I am blithe -to set out, I doubt not that I will be blither to come -back again."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I trust you may not learn in those far-away places -to look down on Tweeddale and the simple folks here. -I doubt you may, John; for you are not a steadfast -man," and, at this, she laughed and I blushed, for I -thought of my conduct at Glasgow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, nay," I answered; "I love you all too -well for that. Though the Emperor of Cathay were -to offer me all his treasure to bide away, I would -come back. I would rather be a shepherd in -Tweeddale than a noble in Spain."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Brave words, John," she cried, "brave words! -See you hold to them."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then after that we fell to discussing Michael, and -his ways of amusing himself; and I bade Marjory -tell her brother to look in now and then at Barns to -see how Tam Todd fared. Also I bade her tell him -that it was my wish that he should hunt and fish -over my lands as much as he pleased. "And see -you keep him in order," I added, laughing, "lest he -slip off to the wars again."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, John," she said, with a frightened look, -"do not speak so. That is what I fear above all -things, for he is restless, even here, and must ever be -wandering from one place to another."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tut, my dear," I said; "Michael, be sure, is -too honest a man to leave you again, when I am off, -once I have left you in his care. Have no fear for -him. But we are getting as dull as owls, and it is -many days since I heard your voice. I pray you -sing me a song, as you used to do in the old days. -'Twill be long ere I hear another."</p> -<p class="pnext">She rose and went without a word to her -harpsichord and struck a few notes. Now Marjory had a -most wonderful voice, more like a linnet's than aught -else, and she sang the old ballads very sweetly. But -to-day she took none of them, but a brisk martial -song, which pleased me marvellously well. I will set -down the words as she sang them, for I have hummed -them many a time to myself:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"Oh, if my love were sailor-bred</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And fared afar from home,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">In perilous lands, by shoal and sands,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">If he were sworn to roam,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">Then, O, I'd hie me to a ship,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And sail upon the sea,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And keep his side in wind and tide</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">To bear him company.</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line">"And if he were a soldier gay,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And tarried from the town,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And sought in wars, through death and scars,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">To win for him renown,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">I'd place his colours in my breast,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And ride by moor and lea,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And win his side, there to abide,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And bear him company.</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line">"For sooth a maid, all unafraid,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Should by her lover be,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">With wile and art to cheer his heart,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And bear him company."</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">"A fine promise, Marjory," I cried, "and some -day I may claim its fulfilment. But who taught you -the song?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who but the Travelling Packman, or, maybe, -the Wandering Jew?" she said, laughingly; and I -knew this was the way of answer she used when she -would not tell me anything. So, to this day, I know -not whence she got the catch.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then we parted, not without tears on her part, and -blank misgivings on my own. For the vexed -question came to disturb me, whether it was not mere -self-gratification on my part thus to travel, and whether -my more honourable place was not at home. But -I banished the thoughts, for I knew how futile they -were, and comforted my brave lass as best I could.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Fare thee well, my love," I cried, as I mounted -my horse, "and God defend you till I come again"; -and, whenever I looked back, till I had passed the -great avenue, I saw the glimmer of Marjory's dress, -and felt pricked in the conscience for leaving her.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-ride-out-on-my-travels-and-find-a-companion">CHAPTER IX</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I RIDE OUT ON MY TRAVELS AND FIND A COMPANION</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was on a fine sharp morning, early in February, -that I finally bade good-bye to the folk at Barns and -forded Tweed and rode out into the world. There -was a snell feel in the air which fired my blood, and -made me fit for anything which Providence might -send. I was to ride Maisie as far as Leith, where I -was to leave her with a man at the Harbour-Walk, -who would send her back to Tweeddale; for I knew -it would be a hard thing to get passage for a horse in -the small ships which sailed between our land and the -Low Countries at that time of year.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the Lyne Water ford, Michael Veitch was -waiting for me. He waved his hat cheerfully, and cried, -"Good luck to you, John, and see that you bide not -too long away." I told him of a few things which -I wished him to see to, and then left him, riding up -the little burn which comes down between the Meldon -hills, and whither lies the road to Eddleston Water. -When I was out of sight of him, I seemed to have -left all my home behind me, and I grew almost -sorrowful. At the top of the ridge I halted and looked -back. There was Barns among its bare trees and -frosted meadows, with Tweed winding past, and -beyond, a silvery glint of the Manor coming down -from its blue, cold hills. There was Scrape, with its -long slopes clad in firs, and the grey house of -Dawyck nestling at its foot. I saw the thin smoke -curling up from the little village of Lyne, and Lyne -Kirk standing on its whin-covered brae, and the bonny -holms of Lyne Water, where I had often taken great -baskets of trout. I must have stayed there, gazing, -for half an hour; and, whenever I looked on the -brown moors and woods, where I had wandered from -boyhood, I felt sorrowful, whether I would or no.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But away with such thoughts," I said, steeling -my heart. "There's many a fine thing awaiting me, -and, after all, I will be back in a year or two to the -place and the folk that I love." So I went down -to the village of Eddleston whistling the "Cavalier's -Rant," and firmly shutting my mind against thoughts -of home. I scarce delayed in Eddleston, but pushed -on up the valley, expecting to get dinner at the inn at -Leadburn, which stands at the watershed, just where -the county of Edinburgh touches our shire of -Tweeddale. The way, which is a paradise in summer, was -rugged and cold at this season. The banks of the -stream were crusted with ice, and every now and -then, as I passed, I raised a string of wild duck, who -fled noisily to the high wildernesses.</p> -<p class="pnext">I came to Leadburn about eleven o'clock in the -forenoon, somewhat cold in body, but brisk and comforted -in spirit. I had Maisie stabled, and myself went -into the hostel and bade them get ready dinner. The -inn is the most villainous, bleak place that I have -ever seen, and I who write this have seen many. The -rooms are damp and mouldy, and the chimney-stacks -threaten hourly to come down about the heads of the -inmates. It stands in the middle of a black peat-bog, -which stretches nigh to the Pentland Hills; and if -there be a more forsaken countryside on earth, I do -not know it. The landlord, nevertheless, was an -active, civil man, not spoiled by his surroundings; and -he fetched me an excellent dinner—a brace of -wild-fowl and a piece of salted beef, washed down with -very tolerable wine.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had just finished, and was resting a little before -ordering my horse, when the most discordant noise -arose in the inn-yard; and, going to the window, I -beheld two great, strong serving-men pulling a collie -by a rope tied around the animal's neck. It was a -fine, shaggy black-and-white dog, and I know not what -it could have done to merit such treatment. But its -captors had not an easy task, for it struggled and -thrawed at the rope, and snarled savagely, and every -now and then made desperate sallies upon the hinder-parts -of its leaders. They cursed it, not unnaturally, -for an ill-conditioned whelp, and some of the idlers, -who are usually found about an inn, flung stones or -beat it with sticks from behind. Now I hate, above -all things, to see a beast suffer, no matter how it may -have deserved it; so I had it in my mind to go down -and put a stop to the cruelty, when some one else -came before me.</p> -<p class="pnext">This was a very long, thin man, with a shock of -black hair, and a sunburnt face, attired in a disorder -of different clothes—a fine, though tarnished coat, -stout, serviceable small-clothes, and the coarsest of -shoes and stockings. He darted forward like a hawk -from a corner of the yard, and, ere I could guess his -intentions, had caught the rope and let the dog go -free. The beast ran howling to seek shelter, and its -preserver stood up to face the disappointed rascals. -They glared at him fiercely, and were on the point -of rushing on him, had not something in his -demeanour deterred them.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh," said he, in a scornful voice, "ye're fine -folk, you Leidburn folk. Braw and kindly folk. -Graund at hangin' dowgs and tormentin' dumb beasts, -but like a wheen skelpit puppies when ye see a man."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye meddlin' deevil," said one, "whae askit ye -to come here? The dowg was an ill, useless beast, -and it was time it was hangit."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what d'ye ca' yoursel?" said the stranger. -"I ken ye fine, Tam Tiddup, for a thievin', idle -vaigabond, and if every useless beast was hangit, -there wadna be yin o' ye here."</p> -<p class="pnext">This made them grumble, and a stone was thrown, -but still something in the easy, dauntless air of their -enemy kept them back.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But I'm no the man to let a dowg gang free -wi'oot giein' some kind o' return. Ye're a' brave -men, dour warlike men, and I've nae doot unco keen -o' a fecht. Is there no some kind o' green bit -hereaways whaur I could hae a fling wi' yin o' ye? I'll -try ye a' in turn, but no to mak ill-feelin', I'll tak -the biggest yin first. Will ye come, ye muckle -hash?" he said suddenly, addressing the tallest of the -number.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now the man addressed had clearly no stomach for -fight, but he was tall and stout, and stood in fear -of the ridicule of his companions, and further, he -doubtless thought that he would have an easy victory -over the lean stranger, so he accepted with as good a -show of readiness as he could muster.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come on, ye flee-up-i'-the-air, and I'll see if I -canna pit thae fushionless airms o' yours oot o' joint."</p> -<p class="pnext">I heard them appoint a flat place beside the burn, -just on the edge of the bog, and watched them -trooping out of the yard. The rabble went first, with -a great semblance of valour, and the brown-faced -stranger, with a sardonic grin on his countenance, -stepped jauntily behind. Now I dearly love a fight, -but yet I scarce thought fit to go and look on with the -rest; so I had Maisie saddled, and rode after them, -that I might look like some chance passer-by stopping -to witness the encounter.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I came up to the place, there were already -some thirty men collected. It was a green spot by -the side of the Hawes burn, with the frost not lifted -from the grass; and in the burn itself the ice lay -thick, for it flows sluggishly like all bogland waters, -The place was beaten down as if folk were used to go -there, and here the men made a ring about their -champion, some helping him to unbuckle his belt, -some giving advice about how to close with his -adversary. The adversary himself stood waiting their -pleasure with the most unconcerned air, whistling -"The Green Holms o' Linton," and stamping his -feet on the ground to keep himself warm.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a little the two were ready, and stood facing -each other on the cold moor. A whistling wind came -in short blasts from the hills, and made their ears -tingle, and mine also, till I wished that I were one of -the two to have some chance of warming my blood. -But when once the fight began, I thought little more -of the cold.</p> -<p class="pnext">The countryman gripped the stranger round the -middle and tugged desperately to throw him. Up and -down, backwards and forwards they went, kicking up -in their struggle pieces of turf and little stones. -Once they were all but in the water, but the stranger, -seeing his peril, made a bold leap back and dragged -the other with him. And now I feared that it was -going to go hard with the succourer of distressed dogs; -for his unwieldy opponent was pressing so heavily -upon him that I expected every moment to see him go -down. Once I caught sight of his face, and, to my -surprise, it was calm as ever; the very straw he had -been chewing before being still between his teeth.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now the fight took another turn; for my friend, by -an adroit movement, slipped below the other's arms, -flung himself backwards, just as I have seen a -tumbler do at a fair at Peebles, and before the other knew -his design, stood smiling before him. The man's -astonishment was so great that he stood staring, and -if the stranger had used his advantage, he might have -thrown him there and then. By and by he recovered -and came on, swearing and wrathful. "Ye've slippit -awa' yince, ye ether, but I'll see that ye'll no dae't -again;" and with his sluggish blood roused to some -heat, he flung himself on his foe, who received him -much as a complacent maid receives the caresses of a -traveller. The fellow thought his victory certain, and -put out all his strength; but now, of a sudden, my -friend woke up. He twisted his long arms round his -adversary, and a mighty struggle began. The great, -fat-bellied man was swaying to and fro like a basket -on a pack-horse; his face grew purple and pale at the -lips, and his body grew limper and weaker. I expected -to see a good fight, but I was disappointed; for before -I knew, they were on the edge of the pool, tottered a -second, and then, with a mighty crunching and splashing, -bounded through the thin ice into the frosty water.</p> -<p class="pnext">A great brown face, with draggled, black hair, -followed closely by a red and round one, appeared -above the surface, and two dripping human beings -dragged themselves to the bank. The teeth of both -chattered like a smith's shop, but in the mouth of -one I espied a yellowish thing, sorely bitten and -crumbled. It was the piece of straw. A loud shout -greeted their appearance, and much laughter. The -one slunk away with his comrades, in no very high -fettle, leaving the other shaking himself like a -water-dog on the grass.</p> -<p class="pnext">I found the stranger looking up at me, as I sat my -horse, with a glance half-quizzical and half-deprecatory. -The water ran down his odd clothes and -formed in pools in the bare places of the ground. He -shivered in the cold wind, and removed little -fragments of ice from his coat. Then he spoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye'll be the Laird o' Barns settin' oot on your -traivels?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good Lord! What do you know of my business?" -I asked, and, as I looked at him, I knew that -I had seen the face before. Of a sudden he lifted -his arm to rub his eyebrows, and the motion brought -back to me at once a vision of excited players and a -dry, parched land, and a man perplexedly seeking to -convince them of something; and I remembered him -for the man who had brought the news to Peebles of -the rising of Tweed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know you," I said. "You are the man who -came down with news of the great flood. But what -do you here?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Bide a wee and I'll tell ye. Ye'll mind that ye -tellt me if ever I was in need o' onything, to come your -way. Weel, I've been up Tweed, and doun Tweed, -and ower the hills, and up the hills, till there's nae -mair places left for me to gang. So I heard o' your -gaun ower the seas, and I took it into my heid that -I wad like to gang tae. So here I am, at your service."</p> -<p class="pnext">The fellow's boldness all but took my breath away. -"What, in Heaven's name, would I take you with -me for?" I asked. "I doubt we would suit each -other ill."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Na, na, you and me wad gree fine. I've heard -tell o' ye, Laird, though ye've heard little o' me, -and by a' accoonts we're just made for each ither."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now if any other one had spoken to me in this tone -I should have made short work of him; but I was -pleased with this man's conduct in the affair just -past, and, besides, I felt I owed something to my -promise.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But," said I, "going to Holland is not like -going to Peebles fair, and who is to pay your passage, -man?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh," said he, "I maun e'en be your body-servant, -so to speak."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have little need of a body-servant. I am used -to shifting for myself. But to speak to the purpose, -what use could you be to me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"What use?" the man repeated. "Eh, sir, ye -ken little o' Nicol Plenderleith to talk that gait. -A' the folk o' Brochtoun and Tweedsmuir, and awa' -ower by Clyde Water ken that there's no his match -for rinnin' and speelin' and shootin' wi' the musket; -I'll find my way oot o' a hole when a' body else 'ill -bide in't. But fie on me to be blawin' my ain -trumpet at siccan a speed. But tak me wi' ye, and -if I'm no a' I say, ye can cry me for a gowk at the -Cross o' Peebles."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I know not what possessed me, who am usually -of a sober, prudent nature, to listen to this man; -but something in his brown, eager face held me -captive, and his powerful make filled me with admiration. -He was honest and kindly; I had had good evidence -of both; and his bravery was beyond doubting. I -thought how such a man might be of use to me in -a foreign land, both as company and protection. I -had taken a liking to the fellow, and, with our family, -such likings go for much. Nevertheless, I was -almost surprised at myself when I said:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I like the look of you, Nicol Plenderleith, and -am half-minded to take you with me as my servant."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I thank ye kindly, Laird. I kenned ye wad -dae't. I cam to meet ye here wi' my best claes -for that very reason."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You rascal," I cried, half laughing at his -confidence, and half angry at his audacity. "I've a -good mind to leave you behind after all. You talk -as if you were master of all the countryside. But -come along; we will see if the landlord has not a -more decent suit of clothes for your back if you are -going into my service. I will have no coughing, -catarrhy fellows about me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Hech," muttered my attendant, following, "ye -micht as weel expect a heron to get the cauld frae -wadin' in the water, as Nicol Plenderleith. Howbeit, -your will be done, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">From the landlord at the inn I bought a suit of -homespun clothes which, by good fortune, fitted -Nicol; and left his soaked garments as part payment. -Clad decently, he looked a great, stalwart man, -though somewhat bent in the back, and with a strange -craning forward of the neck, acquired, I think, from -much wandering among hills. I hired a horse to take -him to Edinburgh, and the two of us rode out of the -yard, followed by the parting courtesies of the host.</p> -<p class="pnext">Of our journey to Edinburgh, I have little else to -tell. We came to the town in the afternoon, and -went through the streets to the port of Leith, after -leaving our horses at the place arranged for. I was -grieved to part from Maisie, for I had ridden her from -boyhood, and she had come to know my ways -wondrous well. We found a vessel to sail the next morn -for Rotterdam, and bargained with the captain for our -passage. When all had been settled, and we had -looked our fill upon the harbour and the craft, and felt -the salt of the sea on our lips, we betook ourselves -to an inn, <em class="italics">The Three Herrings</em>, which fronted the -quay, and there abode for the night.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="of-my-voyage-to-the-low-countries">BOOK II—THE LOW COUNTRIES</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large medium pfirst">CHAPTER I</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">OF MY VOYAGE TO THE LOW COUNTRIES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">We were aboard on the next morning by a little -after daybreak, for the captain had forewarned me, -the night before, that he purposed to catch the -morning tide. To one inland-bred, the harbour of Leith -was a sight to whet the curiosity, There were -vessels of all kinds and sizes, little fishing smacks with -brown, home-made sails, from Fife or the Lothian -coast towns, great sea-going ships, many with strange, -foreign names on their sides, and full of a great bustle -of lading and unlading. There was such a concourse -of men, too, as made the place like a continuous -horse-fair. Half a dozen different tongues jabbered -in my ear, of which I knew not one word, save of -the French, which I could make a fair shape to speak, -having learned it from Tam Todd, along with much -else of good and bad. There were men in red cowls -like Ayrshire weavers, and men in fur hats from the -North, and dark-skinned fellows, too, from the Indies, -and all this motley crew would be running up and -down jabbering and shrilling like a pack of hounds. -And every now and then across the uproar would come -the deep voice of a Scots skipper, swearing and -hectoring as if the world and all that is in it were his -peculiar possession.</p> -<p class="pnext">But when we had cleared the Roads of Leith and -were making fair way down the firth, with a good -north-westerly breeze behind us, then there was a sight -worth the seeing. For behind lay Leith, with its black -masts and tall houses, and at the back again, -Edinburgh, with its castle looming up grim and solemn, -and further still, the Pentlands, ridged like a saw, -running far to the westward. In front I marked the low -shore of Fife, with the twin Lomonds, which you -can see by climbing Caerdon, or Dollar Law, or any -one of the high Tweedside hills. The channel was -as blue as a summer sky, with a wintry clearness and -a swell which was scarce great enough to break into -billows. The Kern, for so the vessel was called, -had all her sail set, and bounded gallantly on her way. -It was a cheerful sight, what with the sails filling to -the wind, and men passing hither and thither at work -with the cordage, and the running seas keeping pace -with the vessel. The morning fires were being lit in -the little villages of Fife, and I could see the smoke -curling upwards in a haze from every bay and neuk.</p> -<p class="pnext">But soon the firth was behind us, and we passed -between the Bass rock and the May, out into the -open sea. This I scarcely found so much to my -liking. I was inland-bred, and somewhat delicate in -my senses, so, soon I came to loathe the odour of fish -and cookery and sea-water, which was everywhere in -the vessel. Then the breeze increased to a stiff wind, -and the Kern leaped and rocked among great rolling -billows. At first the movement was almost pleasing, -being like the motion of a horse's gallop in a smooth -field. And this leads me to think that if a boat -were but small enough, so as to be more proportionate -to the body of man, the rocking of it would be as -pleasing as the rise and fall of a horse's stride. But -in a great, cumbrous ship, where man is but a little -creature, it soon grows wearisome. We stood well -out to sea, so I could but mark the bolder features of -the land. Even these I soon lost sight of, for the -whole earth and air began to dance wofully before my -eyes. I felt a dreadful sinking, and a cold sweat began -to break on my brow. I had heard of the sea-sickness, -but I could not believe that it was this. This was -something ten times worse, some deadly plague which -Heaven had sent to stay me on my wanderings.</p> -<p class="pnext">I leaned over the side of the ship in a very -disconsolate frame of mind. If this was all I was to get -on my journey, I had better have stayed at home. I -was landward-bred, and knew naught of boats, save -one which Tam Todd had made as a ferry across the -Tweed, and which was indeed more like a meal-chest -than aught else. In it we were wont to paddle across -when we were fearful of wetting our shoon. But -this rolling, boisterous ship and turgid seas were -strange to me, and I fear I fell monstrous sick.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nicol Plenderleith had disappeared almost as soon -as he came aboard, and I saw him deep in converse -with the sailors. When we had cleared the Forth he -came back to me, as I leaned disconsolately against -the bulwarks, and asked me how I did. His lean, -brown face was not a whit changed by the rocking of -the ship; indeed, if he had been astraddle the -Saddleback in a gale he would not have been perturbed. -When he saw my plight he ran below and brought -brandy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here, sir, tak some o' this. It's tasty at a' -times, but it's mair than tasty the noo, it's halesome."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nicol," I groaned, "if I never gee home again, -I look to you to tell the folk in Tweeddale. It's -terrible to die here of this villainous sickness, for I shall -certainly die if it continues. Will it never cease?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've been speirin' at the captain and by a' -accounts we're no at the warst o't. He says it's juist -like the backs o' Leith. If ye win by the Fisherraw -ye'll meet your death i' the Kettle Wynd, and, if by -any chance ye're no killed there, ye'll be dune for i' -the Walk. He was speaking o' the stinks o' the -place and no the folk, for they're peaceable eneuch, -puir bodies. 'Weel,' says he, 'it's the same here. -It's ill for some folk to win by the Forth, but it's waur -i' the open sea, and when it comes to the Dutch waters, -it's fair awfu'.' I wis, Laird, ye maunna dee."</p> -<p class="pnext">This was poor consolation, and had I not formed -some guess of my servant's manners, I should have -been downhearted enough; but there was a roguish -twinkle in his eye, and, even as he spoke, his mouth -broadened to a grin. I heard him humming the lines -of an old ditty which I supposed to have some -reference to my state:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">Tam o' the Linn and a' his bairns</div> -<div class="line">Fell into the fire in ilk ither's airms.</div> -<div class="line">"Eh," quoth the binmost, "I have a het skin."</div> -<div class="line">"It's hetter below," quo' Tam o' the Linn.</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">But, sure enough, the captain's prophecy did not -come true. For in a little the waves grew calmer, -and my sickness left me. 'Tis true that soon we -entered troubled waters once more, but I was fortified -with experience, and some measure of brandy, and so -could laugh defiance at the powers of the sea.</p> -<p class="pnext">The wind throughout our course was fair in our -favour, so we made the journey in shorter time than I -had dared to hope for. On the morning of the third -day a dense mist shut us in so that the captain was -much confused and angered. But on the wind's rising, -the fog rolled back, and we went on our way once -more. Early in the afternoon we sighted the mouth -of the Maas, and the tall lines of shipping which -told of the entrance to Rotterdam. You may -imagine that all this was very strange to me, I who had -lived only among hills and rough woods, and had seen -the sea but once, and that afar off. 'Twas a -perpetual wonder to me to see the great sails moved up and -down according to the airt of the wind, and the little -helm guiding the great ship. As I have said, I soon -got over all sickness, and was as hale as ever, so that -on the last two days of the voyage I ever look back as -upon a time of great pleasure.</p> -<p class="pnext">But if my wonder was great in the open seas, -'twas still greater once we had entered the Dutch -river. It was all so unlike my own land that the -home-sickness which travellers tell of had almost taken -hold of me. There were all manner of ships—some -little coasting vessels, others, huge merchantmen which -brought home the wares of the Indies and the Americas. -There was such a jabbering, too, in Dutch, -of which tongue I knew naught, that I longed to hear -one good, intelligible word of Scots, for which cause -I kept my servant near me. By and by we neared -the quay, and saw the merchants' great red storehouses -standing in long line, and the streets of the -city running back from the river. Here we came to -an anchor. Our journey was over, and I had to bid -farewell to captain and vessel and go ashore.</p> -<p class="pnext">It is not to be expected that I should seek to -describe what is known to nigh everyone in these -days when a man thinks nothing of crossing to France -or Holland on any pretext or in any weather. From -such, therefore, by word of mouth let he who desires -it seek information; for myself, I have enough to do -to write down the main acts of my life.</p> -<p class="pnext">One thing I noted—that the air was somewhat soft -and damp, lacking, to my mind, the acrid strength of -the air of Tweeddale, or even of the Lothians. But -all the streets were clean swept and orderly; the folk -well-groomed and well-looking; and the trees by the -riverside gave a pleasant surprise to one accustomed -to the grim, grey, narrow streets of the North. I -made my way by the help of an inquisitive Scots -tongue and the French language to a decent hostelry -in the Grooce Markt just opposite the statue (but -lately erected) of the great Erasmus. This pleased -me much, for to be near even the poor bronze figure -of so great a man seemed to lend to the place an air -of learning. I employed myself profitably in reading -the Latin inscriptions; the others I could make no -more of than the rudest ploughboy in Scotland.</p> -<p class="pnext">Both Nicol and I were up betimes in the morning, -that we might get the coach for Leyden, which started -almost from the door of our inn. I solemnly set -down my testimony that the ale in that same house is -the most villainous in the world, for it made us both -dismal and oppressed, a trouble which did not leave -us till we had taken our seats in the diligence and the -horses were starting.</p> -<p class="pnext">Of the events of that day's journey how shall I -tell? Leyden is a day's length from Rotterdam to -the north, through a land flat as a girdle-cake. The -horses were lumbering, sleepy brutes, and the driver -scarce any better, for every now and again he would -let them come to the walk for long distances, and -then, suddenly awaking to the fact that he must get -to his destination before night, get up and shout -wildly, and feebly flick their backs with his whip. -I had much ado to keep Nicol from trying to take -the reins from his hands, and, certainly, if that -firebrand had once taken them, we should have awakened -the quiet countryside, and, God helping us, might -even have awakened the driver. I knew nothing of -the country, and heard but vaguely the names shouted -out by the guard of the coach; yet, somehow or -other, the name of Ryswick clung to my memory, and -I remembered it well when, long after, at that place -the treaty was signed which closed the war. But at -that time the great duke was plain Master Churchill, -and there was no thought of war between our land -and France. The place was so new to my eyes that -I rebelled against its persistent flatness and dull, dead -water-courses; but soon I came to acknowledge a kind -of prettiness in it, though 'twas of a kind far removed -from the wild loveliness of Tweedside. The -well-ordered strips of trees, the poplars like sentinels -around the homesteads, the red-roofed homesteads -themselves, with their ricks and stables, had a homely -and habitable look, and such of the folk as we saw -by the roadside were as sleek and stolid as their land. -I could not think of the place as a nursery of high and -heroical virtues, but rather of the minor moralities of -good-sense and good-nature.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was late in the afternoon when we came to -Leyden, and rattled down the rough street to the -market-place, which was the stopping-place of the -coach. This was a town more comely and conformable -to my eye than the greater city of Rotterdam. -For here the streets were not so even, the houses not -so trim, and the whole showing a greater semblance -of age. There were many streams and canals crossed -by broad, low bridges. It was a time of great -mildness, for the season of the year. The place had all -that air of battered age and historic worth which I have -observed in our own city of Edinburgh. Even as I -looked on it my mind was full of memories of that -terrible siege, when the folk of Leyden held out so -stoutly against the black Spaniards, till their king -overthrew the dykes and saved the town by flooding the land.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was my first concern to secure lodgings, since I -purposed to spend no little portion of my time here -for the next two years; and, as I had been directed -by my kinsman, Dr. Gilbert Burnet, I sought the -house of one Cornelius Vanderdecker, who abode in -a little alley off the Breedestraat. Arrived there, I -found that the said Cornelius had been in a better -world for some fifteen months, but that his widow, -a tranquil Dutchwoman, with a temper as long as a -Dutch canal, was most willing to lodge me and treat -me to the best which the house could afford. We -speedily made a bargain in bad French, and Nicol and -I were installed in rooms in the back part of the -house, overlooking a long garden, which ended in one -of the streams of water which I have spoken of. It -was somewhat desolate at that time, but I could see -that in summer, when the straight trees were in leaf, -the trim flower-beds and the close-cropped lawn would -make the place exceeding pretty. I was glad of it, -for I am country-bred and dearly do I love greenery -and the sight of flowers.</p> -<p class="pnext">I delayed till the next morning, when I had got the -soil of travel from my clothes and myself once more -into some semblance of sprightliness, ere I went to -the college to present my letters and begin my -schooling. So after the morning meal, I attired myself in -befitting dress and put Nicol into raiment suiting his -rank and company; and set out with a light heart to -that great and imposing institution, which has been -the star of Europe in philosophy and all other matters -of learning. I own that it was with feelings of some -trepidation that I approached the place. Here had -dwelt Grotius and Salmasius and the incomparable -Scaliger. Here they had studied and written their -immortal books; the very place was still redolent of -their memories. Here, too, unless my memory -deceived me, had dwelt the Frenchman, Renatus -Descartes, who had first opened a way for me from the -chaos of the schoolmen to the rectitude of true -philosophy. I scarcely dared to enroll my unworthy -name in the halls of such illustrious spirits. But I -thought on my name and race, and plucked up heart -thereupon to knock stoutly at the gates. A short, -stout man opened to me, clad in a porter's gown, not -unlike the bedellus in the far-away college of -Glasgow, but carrying in his hand a black staff, and at -his belt a large bunch of keys. It came upon -me to address him in French, but remembering -that this was a place of learning, I concluded that -Latin was the more fitting tongue, so in Latin I spoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am a stranger," I said, "from Scotland, bearing -letters for Master Sandvoort and Master Quellinus -of this place. I pray you to see if they can grant me -an audience."</p> -<p class="pnext">He faced round sharply, as if this were the most -ordinary errand in his life, and went limping across the -inner courtyard till he disappeared from view behind -a massive column. He returned shortly and delivered -his message in a very tolerable imitation of the -language of Cæsar.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Their worships, Master Sandvoort and Master -Quellinus, are free from business for the present, and -will see you in their chambers." So bidding Nicol -stay in the courtyard, lest he should shame me before -these grave seniors (though 'twas unlikely enough, -seeing they knew no Scots), I followed the hobbling -porter through the broad quadrangle, up a long -staircase adorned with many statues set in niches in the -wall, to a landing whence opened many doors. At -one of them my guide knocked softly, and a harsh -voice bade us enter. "This is Master Sandvoort," -he whispered in my ear, "and I trust he be not in one -of his tantrums. See ye speak him fair, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">I found myself in a high-panelled room, filled with -books, and with a table in front of a fireplace, whereat -a man sat writing. He wore a skullcap of purple -velvet, and the ordinary black gown of the doctor. -His face was thin and hard, with lines across the brow -and the heaviness below the eye which all have who -study overmuch. His hair was turning to grey, but -his short, pointed beard was still black. He had very -shaggy eyebrows, under which his sharp eyes shone -like the points of a needle. Such was Master -Herman Sandvoort, professor of the Latin language in the -ancient college of Leyden.</p> -<p class="pnext">His first question to me was in the Latin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What tongue do you speak?"</p> -<p class="pnext">I answered that I was conversant with the English, -the French, and the Latin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your letters, pray," he asked in French, and I -took them from my pocket and gave them to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah," he cried, reading aloud, "you desire to -study in this university, and improve your acquaintance -with certain branches of letters and philosophy. -So be it. My fee is five crowns for attendance at my -lectures. I will not abate one tittle of it. I will -have no more poor students come cringing and -begging to be let off with two. So understand my -terms, Master Burnette."</p> -<p class="pnext">I was both angry and surprised. Who was this -man to address me thus?</p> -<p class="pnext">"I pray you to finish the letter," I said curtly.</p> -<p class="pnext">He read on for a little while, then he lifted his head -and looked at me with so comical an expression that -I had almost laughed. Before, his face had been -greedy and cold; now it was worse, for the greed was -still there, but the coldness had vanished and left in -its place a sickly look of servility.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Pardon me, pardon me, good Master Burnette; -I was in a great mistake. I had thought that you -were some commoner from the North, and, God -knows, we have plenty of them. I pray you forget -my words. The college is most honoured by your -presence, the nephew, or is it the son, of the famous -Doctor Burnette. Ah, where were my eyes—the lord -of much land, so says the letter, in the valley of the -Tweed. Be sure, sir, that you can command all the -poor learning that I have at my disposal. And if you -have not already found lodging, why if you will come -to my house, my wife and daughters will welcome you."</p> -<p class="pnext">I thanked him coldly for his invitation, but refused -it on the ground that I had already found an abode. -Indeed, I had no wish to form the acquaintance of -Vrow Sandvoort and her estimable daughters. He -gave me much information about the hours of the -lectures, the subjects which he proposed to treat of, -and the method of treatment; nor would he let me -depart before I had promised to dine at his house.</p> -<p class="pnext">Outside the door I found the porter waiting for -me. He led me across the hall to another door, the -room of Master Quellinus, the professor of Greek.</p> -<p class="pnext">Here I found a different reception. A rosy-cheeked -little man, with a paunch as great as a well-fed ox, -was sitting on a high chair, so that his feet barely -touched the ground. He was whistling some ditty, -and busily mending his finger-nails with a little knife.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, whom have we here?" he cries out, when -he saw me; "another scholar, and a great one. -Why, man, what do you at the trade, when you -might be carrying a musket or leading a troop of -pikemen?"</p> -<p class="pnext">I was tempted to answer him in his own way.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what do you," I asked, "at the trade, -when you might be the chief cook to the French -king, with power to poison the whole nobility?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He laughed long and loudly. "Ah, you have me -there, more's the pity. But what though I love my -dinner? Did not Jacob the patriarch, and Esau, the -mighty Esau, though I have little credit by the -ensample? But come, tell me your name, for I begin to -love thee. You have a shrewd wit, and a pleasing -presence. You may go far."</p> -<p class="pnext">I gave him my letters, and when he had read them, -he came down from his perch and shook me by the hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You are a Scot," he said. "I never knew any -Scot but one, and he was hanged on a tree for -robbing the Burgomaster's coach. I was a lad at school, -and I mind me 'twas rare sport. So I have a kindly -feeling for your nation, though may God send you a -better fate than that one. But what do you seek to -learn? Greek? Faugh, there is no Greek worth a -straw, save Anacreon, and he is not a patch upon our -moderns, on François Villon of Paris, whose soul God -rest, and our brave Desportes. Philosophy? Bah! -'Tis all a monstrous fraud. I have sounded all the -depths of it, and found them but shallows. -Theology? Tush! You will learn more theology in an inn -in the Morschstraat than in all the schools. Such are -my beliefs. But God has compelled me for my sins -to teach the Hellenic tongue to a perverse generation -at the small sum of five crowns. We study the -Republic of Plato, and I trust you may find some -profit. You will dine with me. Nay, I will take -no denial. To-night, in my house, I will show you -how a quail should be dressed. I have the very devil -of a cook, a man who could dress a dry goatskin to -your taste. And wine! I have the best that ever -came from the Rhineside and escaped the maw of a -swinish Teuton. You will come?"</p> -<p class="pnext">I could only escape by promising, which I did with -a good grace, for if there was little profit in Master -Quellinus's company, there was much pleasure.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-visit-master-peter-wishart">CHAPTER II</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I VISIT MASTER PETER WISHART</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The life at the college of Leyden was the most -curious that one could well conceive; yet ere I had -been there a week, I had begun heartily to like it. -The students were drawn from the four corners of -Europe: Swedes, great men with shaggy beards and -invincible courage; neat-coated Germans, Dutchmen -by the score, and not a few Frenchmen, who were the -dandies of the place. We all gathered of a morning -in the dusky lecture-hall, where hung the portraits of -the great scholars of the past, and where in the -cobwebbed rafters there abode such a weight of dust that -a breeze coming through the high windows would stir -it and make the place all but dark. Nor had I fault -to find with the worthy professors, for I found soon -that Master Sandvoort, though a miserly churl, had -vast store of Latin, and would expound the works of -Cornelius Tacitus in a fashion which I could not -sufficiently admire. His colleague, too, who was the best -of good fellows in the seclusion of his house, in his -lecture-room was dignified and severe in deportment. -You never saw such a change in a man. I went on -the first morning expecting to find little but -buffoonery; and lo! to my surprise, in walks my gentleman -in a stately gown, holding his head like an -archduke's; and when he began to speak, it was with the -gravest accents of precision. And I roundly affirm -that no man ever made more good matter come out of -Plato. He would show wherein he erred and wherein -he was wiser than those who sought to refute him; -he would weigh with the nicest judgment the <em class="italics">variae -lectiones</em> on each passage; and he would illustrate all -things with the choicest citations. In truth, I got a -great wealth of good scholarship and sound -philosophy from my squire of bottle and pasty.</p> -<p class="pnext">I was not the only Scot in Leyden, as I soon -discovered; for forbye that I had letters to Master Peter -Wishart, who taught philosophy in the college, there -abode in the town Sir James Dalrymple, afterwards -my Lord Stair, the great lawyer, and sometime a -professor in my old college, whose nephew I had so -cruelly beaten before I bade farewell to Glasgow. -He was a man of a grave deportment, somewhat bent -with study, and with the look of exceeding weight -on his face which comes to one who has shared the -counsel of princes. There were also not a few -Scots lords of lesser fame and lesser fortune, -pensioners, many of them, on a foreign king, exiles from -home for good and evil causes. As one went down -the Breedestraat of a morning he could hear much -broad Scots spoke on the causeway, and find many -fellow-countrymen in a state ill-befitting their rank. -For poverty was ever the curse of our nation, and I -found it bitter to see ignoble Flemings and Dutch -burghers flaunting in their finery, while our poor -gentlemen were threadbare. And these folk, too, -were the noblest in the land, bearing the proudest -names, descendants of warriors and statesmen—Halketts -of Pitfirran, Prestons of Gorton, Stewarts, -Hays, Sinclairs, Douglases, Hamiltons, and Grahams. -It was their fathers and grandfathers who had won the -day at Rijnemants, under Sir Robert Stuart, when, -says Strada, "Nudi pugnant Scoti multi." They -had fought to the death on the Kowenstyn dyke when -Parma beleaguered Antwerp. And in all the later -wars they took their share—Scotts of Buccleuch, -Haigs of Bemersyde, Erskines, Grants, and -Kilpatricks. In the Scots brigade in Holland had served -John Graham of Claverhouse, as some will have it, -the greatest soldier of our age. I saw nothing of -him, for while I was in the Low Lands he was -already riding in the western hills, shooting and -hanging and dealing martial law to herds and weavers. -But I saw often the gallant figure of that Colonel -Hugh Mackay who met Claverhouse in that last and -awful fight in the Highland pass when the mountaineers -swept on the lowlanders like a winter storm, -and who marched to his death long after on the field of -Steinkirk, and fell with the words on his lips, "The -will of the Lord be done." This valiant soldier had -made the Scots brigade into some semblance of that -doughty regiment which Lord Reay commanded under -the great Gustavus. He had driven out all the -foreign admixture, and, by keeping it to Scotsmen of -gentle blood, rendered it well-nigh invincible. But -the pay was poor, and they who entered it did so for -the sake of honour and for no notions of gain.</p> -<p class="pnext">But though it cheers me yet to tell of such fellows, -and though it pleased me vastly to meet them in that -distant land, it is not of such that I must write. As -I have said, forbye attending the two classes of Greek -and Latin, I resorted to the lectures of Master -Wishart, who hailed from Fife, and had taught philosophy -with much success among the Hollanders for some -twenty years. He was well acquainted with my -family, so what does he do but bid me to his house at -Alphen one Saturday in the front of March. For he -did not abide in Leyden, never having loved the ways -of a town, but in the little village of Alphen, some -seven miles to the northeast.</p> -<p class="pnext">I accepted his bidding, for I had come there for no -other cause than to meet and converse with men of -learning and wisdom; so I bade Nicol have ready the -two horses, which I had bought, at eleven o'clock -in the forenoon. One of the twain was a bay mare, -delicately stepping, with white pasterns and a patch -of white on her forehead. The other was the -heavier, reserved for Nicol and what baggage I might seek -to carry, black and deep-chested, and more sedate -than his comrade.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a clear, mild day when we set out, with no -trace of frost, and but little cold. The roads were -dry underfoot, and the horses stepped merrily, for -they were fresh from long living indoors. The fields -on either side were still bleak, but the sowers were -abroad, scattering the seeds of the future harvest. -The waters that we passed were alive with wild-fowl, -which had wintered in the sea-marshes, and were now -coming up to breed among the flags and rushes of the -inland lakes. The tender green was sprouting on the -trees, the early lark sang above the furrows, and the -whole earth was full of the earnest of spring.</p> -<p class="pnext">Alphen is a straggling line of houses by a canal. -They are all well sized, and even with some pretension -to gentility, with long gardens sloping to the water, -and shady coverts of trees. Master Wishart's stood -in the extreme end, apart from the rest, low-built, -with a doorway with stuccoed pilasters. It was a -place very pleasant to look upon, and save for its -flatness, I could have found it in my heart to choose it -for a habitation. But I am hill-bred, and must have -rough, craggy land near me, else I weary of the -finest dwelling. Master Wishart dwelt here, since -he had ever a passion for the growing of rare flowers, -and could indulge it better here than in the town of -Leyden. He was used to drive in every second day -in his great coach, for he lectured but three times a -week.</p> -<p class="pnext">A serving-man took my horse from me, and, along -with Nicol, led them to the stable, having directed -me where, in the garden, I should find my host. I -opened a gate in a quickset hedge, and entered upon -the most beautiful pleasure-ground that I had ever -beheld. A wide, well-ordered lawn stretched straitly -down to the very brink of the canal, and though, as -was natural at that season of the year, the grass had -not come to its proper greenness, yet it gave promise -of great smoothness and verdure. To the side of -this, again, there ran a belt of low wood, between -which and the house was a green all laid out into -flower beds, bright even at that early time with -hyacinths and jonquils. Below this the low wood began -again, and continued to the borders of the garden, -full of the most delightsome alleys and shady walks. -From one of these I heard voices, and going in that -direction, I came of a sudden to a handsome arbour, -at the side of which flowered the winter-jasmine, and -around the door of which, so mild was the day, some -half-dozen men were sitting.</p> -<p class="pnext">My host, Master Wishart, was a short, spare man, -with a long face adorned with a well-trimmed beard. -He had the most monstrous heavy brows that I have -ever seen, greater even than those of our Master -Sandeman, of whom the students were wont to say -that his eyebrows were heather-besoms. His eyes -twinkled merrily when he spoke, and but for his great -forehead no one might have guessed that he stood in -the presence of one of the most noted of our schoolmen.</p> -<p class="pnext">He rose and greeted me heartily, bidding me all -welcome to Alphen, saying that he loved to see the -sight of a Scots face, for was he not an exile here -like the Jews by the waters of Babylon? "This is -Master John Burnet of Barns," said he, presenting -me to a very grave and comely man some ten years -my senior, "who has come all the way from -Tweedside to drink at our Pierian Spring." The other -greeted me, looked kindly at me for a second, and -then asked me some question of my family; and -finding that a second cousin of his own on his mother's -side had once married one of my race, immediately -became very gracious, and condescended to tell me his -opinions of the land, which were none so good. He -was, as I did not know till later, Sir William -Crichtoun of Bourhope; that Sir William who in after times -was slain in the rout at Cromdale when the forces of -Buchan and Cannon were caught unawares on the hillside.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had leisure now to look around me at the others, -and a motley group they were. There was Quentin -Markelboch, the famous physician of Leyden, who -had been pointed out to me in the street some days -before, a little, round-bellied man with an eye of -wondrous shrewdness. There was likewise Master -Jardinius, who had lectured on philosophy at one time -in the college, but had now grown too old for aught -save sitting in the sun and drinking Schiedam—which, -as some said, was no great pity. But the one I most -marked was a little, fiery-eyed, nervous man, Pieter -van Mieris by name, own cousin to the painter, and -one who lived for nothing else than to fight abstruse -metaphysical quarrels in defence of religion, which he -believed to be in great peril from men of learning, -and, but for his exertions on its behalf, to be unable -to exist. It was he who first addressed me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have heard that the true religion is wondrous -pure in your land, Master Burnet, and that men yet -worship God in simple fashion, and believe in Him -without subtleties. Is that so, may I beg of you to -tell me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay," I answered, "doubtless they do, when -they worship Him at all."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then the most pernicious heresy of the pervert -Arminius has not yet penetrated to your shores, I -trust, nor Pelagianism, which, of old, was the devil's -wile for simple souls?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have never heard of their names," I answered -bluntly. "We folk in Scotland keep to our own -ways, and like little to import aught foreign, be it -heresy or strong ale."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then," said my inquisitor triumphantly, "you -are not yet tainted with that most vile and pernicious -heresy of all, with which one Baruch Spinoza, of -accursed memory, has tainted this land?"</p> -<p class="pnext">I roused myself at the name, for this was one I had -heard often within the past few weeks, and I had a -great desire to find out for myself the truth of his -philosophy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am ashamed to confess," I said, "that I have -read none of his writings, that I scarcely know his -name. But I would be enlightened in the matter."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Far be it from me," said the little man earnestly, -"to corrupt the heart of any man with so pernicious -a doctrine. Rather close thy cars, young man, when -you hear anyone speak his name, and pray to God to -keep you from danger. 'Tis the falsest admixture of -the Jewish heresy with the scum of ancient philosophy, -the vain imaginings of man stirred up by the -Evil One. The man who made it is dead, and gone -to his account, but I would that the worthy magistrates -had seen fit to gibbet him for a warning to all the -fickle and light-minded. Faugh, I cannot bear to -pollute my mouth with his name."</p> -<p class="pnext">And here a new voice spoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The man of whom you speak was so great that -little minds are unable to comprehend him. He is -dead, and has doubtless long since learned the truth -which he sought so earnestly in life. I am a stranger, -and I little thought to hear any Hollander speak ill -of Baruch Spinoza, for though God, in his mercy, -has given many good gifts to this land, He has -never given a greater than him. I am no follower -of his, as they who know me will bear witness, but -I firmly believe that when men have grown wiser and -see more clearly, his name will shine as one of the -lights of our time, brighter, may be, even than the -great Cartesius."</p> -<p class="pnext">The speaker was but newly come, and had been -talking with my host when he heard the declamation -of Master van Mieris. I turned to look at him and -found a tall, comely man, delicately featured, but with -a chin as grim as a marshal's. He stood amid the -crowd of us with such an easy carriage of dignity and -breeding that one and all looked at him in admiration. -His broad, high brow was marked with many lines, -as if he had schemed and meditated much. He was -dressed in the pink of the fashion, and in his gestures -and tones I fancied I discerned something courtier-like, -as of a man who had travelled and seen much -of courts and kingships. He spoke so modestly, and -withal so wisely, that the unhappy Pieter looked -wofully crestfallen, and would not utter another word.</p> -<p class="pnext">A minute later, finding Master Wishart at hand, I -plucked him by the sleeve.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tell me, who is that man there, the one who spoke?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah," said he, "you do not know him, perhaps -you do not know his name; but be sure that when -you are old you will look back upon this day with -pleasure, and thank Providence for bringing you -within sight of such a man. That is the great -Gottfried Leibnitz, who has been dwelling for a short -space in London, and now goes to Hanover as Duke -Frederick's councillor."</p> -<p class="pnext">But just at this moment all thoughts of philosophy -and philosophers were banished from my mind by the -sudden arrival of a new guest. This was no other -than the worthy professor of Greek, Master -Quellinus, who came in arrayed in the coarsest clothes, -with a gigantic basket suspended over his shoulders by -a strap, and a rod like a weaver's beam in his hand. -In truth the little man presented a curious sight. -For the great rod would not stay balanced on his -shoulders, but must ever slip upward and seriously -endanger the equipoise of its owner. His boots were -very wide and splashed with mud, and round the -broad-brimmed hat which he wore I discerned many -lengths of horsehair. My heart warmed to the man, -for I perceived he was a fellow-fisherman, and, in -that strange place, it was the next best thing to being -a fellow Scot.</p> -<p class="pnext">He greeted us with great joviality. "A good day -to you, my masters," he cried; "and God send you -the ease which you love. Here have I been bearing -the heat and burden of the day, all in order that -lazy folk should have carp to eat when they wish it. -Gad, I am tired and wet and dirty, this last beyond -expression. For Heaven's sake, Master Wishart, take -me where I may clean myself."</p> -<p class="pnext">The host led the fisherman away, and soon he -returned, spruce and smiling once more. He sat -down heavily on a seat beside me. "Now, Master -Burnet," says he, "you must not think it unworthy -of a learned Grecian to follow the sport of the angle, -for did not the most famous of their writers praise it, -not to speak of the example of the Apostles?"</p> -<p class="pnext">I tried hard to think if this were true.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Homer, at any rate," I urged, "had no great -opinion of fish and their catchers, though that was -the worse for Homer, for I am an angler myself, -and can understand your likings."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then I will have your hand on it," said he, -"and may Homer go to the devil. But Theocritus -and Oppian, ay, even Plato, mention it without -disrespect, and does not Horace himself say -'Piscemur'? Surely we have authority."</p> -<p class="pnext">But this was all the taste I had of my preceptor's -conversation, for he had been walking all day in miry -ways, and his limbs were tired: nor was I surprised -to see his head soon sink forward on his breast; and -in a trice he was sleeping the sleep of the just and -labouring man.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now we were joined by a newcomer, no less -than Mistress Kate Wishart, as pretty a lass as you -will see in a day's journey. She had been nurtured -by her father amid an aroma of learning, and, truly, -for a maid, she was wondrous learned, and would -dispute and cite instances with a fine grace and a skill -which astonished all. To me, who am country-bred -and a trifle over-fastidious, she seemed a thought -pedantic and proud of her knowledge; but what is -hateful in a hard-featured woman is to be pardoned in -a fresh lass. Her father brought me to her and -presented me, which she acknowledged with a courtsey -which became her mightily; but I spoke not two -words to her, for the old man led me away down one -of the alleys among the trees.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Kate'll look after thae auld dotterels," said he, -speaking in the broadest Scots; "I brocht her out -that I micht get a word wi' ye my lane, for I'm fair -deein' for news frae the auld country. First of a', -how is Saunders Blackett at Peebles? Him and me -were aince weel acquant." And when I had told him, -he ran off into a string of inquiries about many folk -whom I knew, and whom he once had known, which -I answered according to my ability.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And now," he says, "I've bidden twa-three o' -the officers o' the Scots brigade to supper the nicht, -so ye'll see some guid Scots physiogs after thae fosy -Dutchmen. Ye'll maybe ken some o' them."</p> -<p class="pnext">I thanked him for his consideration, and after I -had answered his many questions, we returned to the -others, whom I found busily arguing some point in -divinity, with Mistress Kate very disgusted in their -midst.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gang intil the house wi' my dochter, John," -said Master Wishart, and, giving her my arm, I did -as I was bid, while the others straggled after in twos -and threes.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-story-of-a-supper-party">CHAPTER III</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE STORY OF A SUPPER PARTY</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">My first thought on entering the supper-room was -one of amazement. The owner of the house, -whom I had taken to be a man of simple tastes, here -proved himself to be a very Caliph for magnificence. -Many choice paintings looked down at us from the -sides, richly framed, and fitting into recesses in the -panelled walls. The floor was laid with bright-dyed -rugs and carpets of Venetian stuff, and the chairs and -couches were of finely carven wood. The whole -was lit with a long line of waxen candles in silver -sconces, which disputed the sovereignty with the -departing daylight. But the choicest sight was the table -which was laden, nay heaped, with rich dishes and -rare meats, while in the glass and metal flagons the -wine danced and flamed. I was of country-bred -habits, and the display at first all but took the breath -from me; indeed it was not a little time ere I could -take my eyes from it and turn them on the assembled -guests.</p> -<p class="pnext">Those who had not been present in the garden -were gathered at the lower end of the room, whither -the master of the place betook himself to greet them. -I marked two or three of the burgher folk by their -dress and well-filled bellies, contrasting strangely with -the lean figure of a minister who stood among them -clothed in some decent, dark stuff, and wearing white -bands ostentatiously. There were also some of the -officers in the Scots regiment, at least of that portion -of it which was then lying at Leyden. Their dress -was sober compared with the richness of such -soldiery as I had seen in my own land, but against the -attire of the citizens, it was gaudiness itself.</p> -<p class="pnext">I found myself sitting close to the head of the -table, on the right hand of my host, betwixt a portly -doctor of laws and my worthy Master Quellinus. -This latter was now all but recovered from his -fatigue, having slept soundly in the arbour. He -was in a high good humour at the sight of the many -varied dishes before him, and cried out their merits to -me in a loud, excited tone, which made my cheeks -burn. "There," he cried, "there is the dish I love -above all others. 'Tis hashed venison with young -herbs, and sour wine for a relish. Ah, I have already -enjoyed it in anticipation. In a few seconds I shall -have enjoyed it in reality. Therefore I argue I have -gained two pleasures from it, whereas men of no -imagination have but one. And, God bless my eyes! do -I see a plate of stewed eels over there before that thick -man in the brown coat? Gad! I fear he will -devour them all himself, for he looks to have capacity -and judgment. Plague take him, I am in a very -torment of anxiety. Prithee, my good John, seek out -a servant and bid him bring it over here." I know -not how far he might have gone, had not all talking -been put an end to by the minister arising and saying -a lengthy Latin grace. In the midst of it I stole a -glance at my neighbour, and his face wore so comical -an expression of mingled disgust and eagerness that I -could scarcely refrain from laughing. But all did not -conduct themselves so well, for there was a great -disputation going on among some of the regiment -which much hindered the effect of the minister's Latin. -Indeed, I believe had he spoken another dozen words, -the patience of some would have gone altogether.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now," said Master Wishart from the head of -the table, "I trust, gentlemen, that ye may find the -entertainment to your liking. Fall to heartily, for -this weather gives a keen edge to the appetite. -<em class="italics">Occupet extremum scabies</em>, as Horatius hath it; which being -translated into the vulgar idiom is 'Deil tak the -hin-most.' Know you that proverb, John? Come, -Master Quellinus, set to, man, ye've had a serious -day's work, and our fleshly tabernacles will not -subsist on nothing," adding in an undertone to me, -"though it's little pressing ye need, for to press ye -to eat is like giving a shog to a cairt that's fa'in ower -the Castle Rock."</p> -<p class="pnext">I paid little heed to Master Quellinus's conversation, -which ran chiefly on viands, or to that of my -left-hand neighbour, whose mouth was too full for -words. But I found great entertainment in watching -the faces and listening to the speech of some of the -other guests. The table was wide and the light -dim, so that I had much ado to make out clearly -those opposite me. I marked Mistress Kate, very -daintily dressed, talking gaily to some one at her side.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, to tell you the truth, my dear Mistress Kate, -this land of yours is not very much to my liking. To -be sure a soldier is contented wherever his duty calls -him, but there is no fighting to be done, and the sport -is not what I have found it elsewhere. I am in such -a devilish strict place that, Gad, I cannot have a -game with a fat citizen without having to listen to -a rigmarole of half an hour's duration on the next -morning. There is so much psalm-singing in the -place that an honest gentleman can scarcely raise a -merry song without having his voice stopped by half -a dozen sour-faced knaves. 'Faith, I wish I were -back in my own land, where there is some work for -a cavalier. There is but one thing that I should -except," and he bowed low to his neighbour, "the -women, who are as beautiful as the men-folk are -hideous. Though, in truth, I believe that the most -lovely of them all is a countrywoman of my own"; -and again he made her a fine bow.</p> -<p class="pnext">The voice and the tone were strangely familiar, but -for the life of me, I could not give them a name. -I could only note that the man was a big, squarely-made -fellow, and that he seemed to be in a mind to -make love to his host's daughter. She made some -blushing reply to his compliments, and then, as luck -would have it, a servant set a light between us, and -the faces of both were revealed clearly to me.</p> -<p class="pnext">I sat bolt upright in my chair with sheer astonishment. -For there, dressed in the habiliments of the -Scots regiment, and bearing himself with all his old -braggadocio, sat my cousin Gilbert.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then I remembered how I had heard that he had -gone abroad to some foreign service, partly to escape -the consequences of some scrapes into which he had -fallen, partly to get rid of his many debts. And here -he was, coming to the one place in Europe to which -I had chosen to go, and meeting me at the one table -which I had chosen to frequent. In that moment I -felt as if the man before me were bound up in some -sinister way with my own life.</p> -<p class="pnext">Almost at the same instant he turned his eyes upon -me, and we stared in each other's face. I saw him -start, bend his head toward his companion and ask some -question. I judged it to be some query about my -name and doings, for the next moment he looked -over to me and accosted me with a great semblance -of hilarity.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What," he cries. "Do I see my cousin John? -I had not dared to hope for such a welcome meeting. -How came you here?" And he asked me a string -of questions.</p> -<p class="pnext">I answered shortly and with no great cordiality, -for I still remembered the doings in Tweeddale, and -my heart was still sore in the matter of my father's -death. Forbye this, Gilbert spoke with not a little -covert scorn in his tone, which I, who knew his ways -well, was not slow to detect. It nettled me to think -that I was once more to be made to endure the -pleasantries of my cousin.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And how goes all in Tweeddale, my dear cousin?" -said he. "I condole with you on your father's -death. Ah, he was a good man indeed, and there are -few like him nowadays. And how does Tam Todd, -my friend, who has such a thick skull and merciless -arm? And ah, I forgot! Pray forgive my neglect. -How is fair Mistress Marjory, the coy maid who -would have none of my courtesies?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The amazing impudence of the fellow staggered -me. It almost passed belief that he should speak -thus of my father whose death had lain so heavily at -his door. This I might have pardoned; but that at -a public table he should talk thus of my love irritated -me beyond measure. I acted as I do always when -thus angered: I gave him a short answer and fell into -a state of moody disquietude.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meanwhile my cousin, with all the gallantry in the -world, kept whispering his flatteries into the pretty -ears of Mistress Kate. This was ever Gilbert's way. -He would make love to every tavern wench and kiss -every village lass on his course. 'Twas a thing I -never could do. I take no credit for the omission, -for it is but the way God makes a man. Whenever I -felt in the way to trying it, there was always -Marjory's face to come before my eyes and make me -think shame of myself.</p> -<p class="pnext">As I sat and watched these twain I had no eyes for -any other. The very sight of Gilbert brought back -to me all my boyhood in Tweedside, and a crowd of -memories came surging in upon me. I fancied, too, -that there was something of Marjory in the little -graceful head at my cousin's elbow, and the musical, -quick speech. I felt wretchedly jealous of him, God -knows why; for the sight of him revived any old -fragments which had long lain lurking in the corners -of my mind; and as he chatted gaily to the woman -at his side, I had mind of that evening at Barns when -I, just returned from Glasgow college, first felt the -lust of possession. I sat and moodily sipped my -wine. Why had I ever left my own land and suffered -my lady to be exposed to manifold perils? for with -the first dawnings of jealousy and anger came a -gnawing anxiety. I had never felt such a sickness for home -before, and I cursed the man who had come to ruin -my peace of mind. Yet my feeling toward my cousin -was not that of hatred; indeed I could not refrain from -a certain pity for the man, for I discerned in him much -noble quality, and was he not of my own blood?</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come now," I heard Mistress Kate simper, "I -do not believe that tale of anyone, and above all, of -him; for a soberer does not live. Fie, fie, Master -Gilbert, I took you for a more generous man."</p> -<p class="pnext">"On my faith, my dear, it is true," replied my -cousin. "For all his docile looks, he is as fond of -a game as the rest of us."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I guessed that my frolicsome cousin had been -traducing me to the fair Kate, and I grew not a little -hot. But his next word changed my heat into fierce -anger. For my cousin continued:</p> -<p class="pnext">"What saith the Latin poet?" and he quoted a -couplet from Martial—a jest at the usual amusements -of the seemingly decent man.</p> -<p class="pnext">I know not where he had got hold of it, for he was -no scholar; but it was full of the exceeding grossness -which is scarcely to be found outside that poet. He -thought, I could guess, that the girl understood no -Latin, but, as I knew, she had a special proficiency -in that tongue. She understood the jest only too -well. A deep blush grew over her face from her -delicate throat to the very borders of her hair. 'Twas -just in such a way that Marjory had looked when I -first told her my love; 'twas in such a fashion she had -bade me farewell. The thought of her raised a great -storm of passion in my heart against anyone who -would dare thus to put a woman to shame. I strove -hard to curb it, but I felt with each second that it -would overmaster me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, John, what think you of my Latinity?" -asked my cousin from over the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think, I think," I cried, "that you are a -damned scurrilous fellow, a paillard, a hound; 'fore -God, Gilbert, I will make you smart for this," and, -ere I well knew what I did, I had seized my glass and -hurled it at his head.</p> -<p class="pnext">It struck him on the cheek, scratching the skin, -but doing little hurt.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a trice he was on his feet with his hand at his -sword. One half the table rose and stared at the -two of us, while Master Wishart left the head and -came rushing to the back of my chair. As for -myself, I felt such desperate shame at my conduct that -I knew not what to do. I had now made a fool of -myself in downright earnest. I felt my cheek tingling -and flaming, but I could do naught but look before me.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then my cousin did a thing which gave him great -honour, and completed my shame; for bridling his -anger, as I saw with a mighty effort, he said calmly, -though his arms were quivering with rage:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I would ask you to be more careful in your use -of glasses. See, yours has flown right over to me -and played havoc with my cheek. 'Faith, it is no -light duty to sup opposite you, <em class="italics">mon ami</em>. But, indeed, -gentlemen," and he bowed to the company, "'twas -but an unfortunate mischance."</p> -<p class="pnext">At this all sat down again, and scarce five minutes -after, Gilbert rose to leave, and with him the other -gentlemen of his regiment. Master Wishart bade -him sit down again, for the night was yet young, but -my cousin would not be persuaded. He nodded -carelessly to me, kissed his hand to pretty Mistress -Kate, and swaggered out.</p> -<p class="pnext">I sat dazed and meditative. I was raw to many -things, but I knew well that Gilbert was not the man -to sit down under such an affront. He had shielded -me for his own reasons, of which I guessed that -family pride was not the least; but he would seek a -meeting with all dispatch. And, in truth, I was not averse -to it, for I had many accounts to settle with my dear -cousin. I fell to thinking about the details of the -matter. In all likelihood he would come on the -Monday, for the Sabbath was a day of too strict -propriety in this land as in my own, to allow of the settling -of any such business. Well, come when he might, -I should be ready; and I rose from the table, for the -sooner I was back in Leyden, the better.</p> -<p class="pnext">I took farewell of my host, and he could not -refrain from whispering in my ear at parting: "Jock, -Jock, my man, ye've made a bonny mess o't. Ye'll -hae to fecht for it, and see ye dae't weel."</p> -<p class="pnext">Nicol was waiting at the gate with the horses, and, -together, we turned on our homeward way.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="our-adventure-on-the-alphen-road">CHAPTER IV</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">OUR ADVENTURE ON THE ALPHEN ROAD</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">We rode in silence for maybe half a mile, while I -turned over the events of the evening in my mind and -tried to find some way out of the difficulties in which, -by my own folly, I found myself placed. Nicol -looked steadfastly before him and said never a word. -By and by I found the desire for some one to speak -with so overpowering that I up and asked him if he -had heard aught of the events of the evening.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, sir," said he, "I heard ye had some kind o' -stramash, but that was a'. I trust ye're weel oot o't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have you heard of my cousin Gilbert?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The wastland lad wha used to come aboot the -Barns? Oh, aye! I've heard o' him."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I flung a glass at his face to-night," said I.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hope, sir, that he flung anither at yoursel'?" he -asked anxiously.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No. He swallowed the insult and left soon after. -He is not the man to let me off so easily."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whew," said Nicol, "but that's bad. Wad ye -mind, Laird, if I rode on afore ye?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Cousins and sodger-folk are kittle cattle," said -he. "I wadna wonder noo but that Maister Gilbert -were ahint a dyke. I've heard tell o' some o' his -pliskies in his ain land, and he's no the lad to let a -midge stick in his throat."</p> -<p class="pnext">I drew up my horse angrily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nicol," I cried, "you are intolerable. My -cousin is a gentleman of birth, and do you think he -is the man to kill from a dyke-side? Fie on you, -you have the notions of a common roost-robber."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel, away then, my lord," cries he. "So be -it; but I've little faith in your Gilberts for a' their -gentrice. I ken their breed ower weel. But I maun -ride afore ye, for there are some gey rough bits on the -road, and I'm a wee bit mair sure in the saddle than -yoursel, wi' a' respect to your lairdship."</p> -<p class="pnext">So the wilful fellow must needs ride before me, -looking sharply to the right and left as though we -were in far Muscovy instead of peaceful Holland.</p> -<p class="pnext">As for me, I felt in no humour to listen to my -servant's tales or do aught than think dolefully on my -own matters. The sight of my cousin and of -Mistress Kate had made me sore sick for home, and I -could have found it in my heart once and again to -take ship at the next sailing for Leith. But these -thoughts I choked down, for I felt that they were -unbecoming to any man. Yet I longed for Marjory -as never lover longed for his mistress. Her bright -hair was ever before my sight, and her last words on -that February evening rang always in my head. I -prayed to God to watch over her as I rode through -the stiff poplars on the way to Leyden.</p> -<p class="pnext">As for my quarrel, I cared not a straw for Gilbert -and his ill-will, it having never been my nature to -be timorous toward men. Nay, I looked forward to -meeting him with no little pleasure, for it had long -been an open question which of the twain was best -at the sword-play.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maister John," said Nicol, suddenly turning -round, "I saw twae men creeping roond thae scrunts -o' trees. I wis they maunna be after ony ill." We -were by this time nearing a black, inhospitable part -of the land, where the road ran across a moor all -covered with ferns and rushes and old trunks of trees.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ride on," said I; "if we turned for every man -that crosses the path, we should never leave our own -threshold."</p> -<p class="pnext">He did as he was ordered, and our horses being put -to the canter, covered the ground gallantly, and our -stirrup-chains clinked in the silent night.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly, to my amazement, I saw Nicol fling -himself back in the saddle while his horse stumbled -violently forward. It was one of the most ingenious -feats of horsemanship that I have ever witnessed. -The beast stood quivering, his ears erect with fright, -while I rode alongside.</p> -<p class="pnext">"For God's sake, sir, take care," Nicol cried. -"There's some damned thing ower the road, and if I -hadna been on the watch it wad hae been a' ower wif -yae guid man. Watch, for ye may get a shot in your -belly any meenute."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now, as it chanced, it was that lively canter which -saved us, for the rogues who had set the trap had -retired a good way, not expecting us so early. At -the sound of the stumble they came rushing up from -among the fern, and, ere I knew, a pistol shot cracked -past my ears, and another and another.</p> -<p class="pnext">Two went wide; one hit my horse on the ear and -made him unmanageable, so that I sat there with my -beast plunging and kicking, at the mercy of -whosoever had a fourth pistol.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nicol spoke not a word, but turning his horse, -dashed forward in the direction whence the shots had -come. As it fell out, it was the best thing that -anyone could have done, for the robbers, not expecting -any such assault, were preparing to fire again. As it -was, the forefeet of the horse took one villain on the -chest, knocking him senseless and well-nigh -trampling the life out of him. A second gripped Nicol by -the sleeve, and attempted to drag him from the saddle; -which plan would doubtless have succeeded had not -my servant, pulling the pistol (which was not loaded) -from his holsters, presented it at the man's head with -such effect that the fellow in fear of his life let go and -fled across the moor.</p> -<p class="pnext">By this time I had reduced my own animal to -something like submission. I rode after Nicol and -came up just in time to see the third man of the band -(there were but three; for doubtless they trusted to -their trap for unhorsing if not stunning us) engaged -in a desperate struggle. Nicol had him by the throat -with one hand and was endeavouring to squeeze the -breath out of him, while he in turn had his opponent -by the other arm, which he was twisting cruelly. -Had my servant been on foot the matter would -soon have ended, for the throat fared badly which -those long wiry hands once encircled; but being on -horseback he dared not lean forward lest he should -lose his seat. My appearance settled it; for the -robber, freeing himself at one desperate leap, made off at -the top of his speed, leaving his pistols behind him. -There remained but the one whom Nicol's horse had -deprived of his senses.</p> -<p class="pnext">Unfortunately the blow had not been a very severe -one, for he was not long in coming to himself. -There was some water in a little stagnant pool near at -hand which Nicol dashed in his face, and in a little -the man opened his eyes and looked up.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the sight of us he started, and the events of -the past half hour came back to his memory. Then -a look of sullen, obstinate anger came into his face, -and he lay still, waiting for events to take their course.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who are you?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">He made no answer.</p> -<p class="pnext">I repeated the question several times, and still the -man kept his silence.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye donnert scoondrel," cried Nicol, "tell us -whae ye are, or ye'll hang the morn on the -gallows-hill at Leyden."</p> -<p class="pnext">Still the fellow would not speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let's tie him up," said Nicol, "and I'll ride -wi' him on the horse afore me. He'll get justice -when we win to the toun."</p> -<p class="pnext">But this was not my policy. I had other things -to think of than bringing marauders to trial. A -sudden thought struck me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I will try him another way," said I to Nicol. -"Do you stand aside."</p> -<p class="pnext">The man lay on the ground where my servant's -horse had thrown him, with a belt round his legs, and -his arms knotted together. I went up to him, and -stood over.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you know who I am?" I asked sternly, in -as tragic a voice as I could assume.</p> -<p class="pnext">The man stared sulkily, but did not speak.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You fool," I cried, "do you think that thus you -will circumvent me? Know that I am the great doctor, -Joannes Burnetus of Lugdunum, skilled in all arts of -earth and heaven, able to tell divinations and -prophecies, learned in all magic and witchery. I know all -that thou hast done since thy birth, and thy father and -grandsire before thee, all the wickedness which shall -entitle thee to eternal damnation in that place which the -Devil is even now preparing for thee. Yea, I can tell -thee the very death which thou shalt die——"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Stop, stop," cried the fellow, "O most learned -sir, spare me. I know thou knowest all things. I -confess my sins, and oh, I promise you I shall mend -my ways. Stop, I pray."</p> -<p class="pnext">"There is still one ray of hope for thee," said I, -"but I cannot give my word that thou shalt ever gain -it, for thou hast advanced too far in sin already. But -yet thou mayest escape, and there is but one way to -set about it—namely, to tell me of all thy wickedness. -I adjure thee, by the sacred sign <em class="italics">Tekel</em>, which -the Chaldaeans used of old; by <em class="italics">Men</em>, which was the -sign of the Egyptians; by the <em class="italics">Eikon</em> of the Greeks; -by the <em class="italics">Lar</em> of the Romans. I summon thee by the -holy names of God, <em class="italics">Tetragrammaton, Adonay, Algramay, -Saday, Sabaoth, Planaboth, Pantbon, Craton, -Neupmaton, Deus, Homo, Omnipotens</em>; by <em class="italics">Asmath</em>, the name -of the Evil One, who is lord over thee and my -slave—I summon thee to tell me all thy deeds."</p> -<p class="pnext">The man was frightened past all telling. He tried -to crawl to my knees, and began a recital of all -manner of crimes and peccadilloes, from his boyhood till -the present hour. I listened without interest.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Had any Scot a part with thee in this night's -work?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, there was none. There were but Bol and -Delvaux beside myself, both Dutch born and bred."</p> -<p class="pnext">My mind was lightened. I never really believed -my cousin to have had any part in such a matter, but -I was glad to know it for truth.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You may go now," I said, "go and repent, and -may God blast thee with all his fire if thou turnest -thy hand to evil again. By the bye, thy name? I -must have it from thy own lips."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Jan Hamman, your lordship," said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, God pity thee, Jan Hamman, if ever I -lay my hand on thee again. Be off now."</p> -<p class="pnext">He was off in a twinkling, running for his very life. -Nicol and I remounted, and rode onward, coming to -Leyden at the hour of one on the Sabbath -morning—a thing which I much regretted.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-first-sunday-of-march">CHAPTER V</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE FIRST SUNDAY OF MARCH</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I slept late on the next morning, so that it was -near nine o'clock ere I was up and dressed. By the -time that I broke my fast I had had some leisure to -reflect upon the events of the preceding night and the -consequences which should ensue. Nicol came to -me as soon as the meal was over, and together we sat -down to consult.</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is the Sabbath, your honour," said Nicol, -"so ye may consider yoursel' free for the day at ony -rate."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Not so free," said I, for I knew my cousin -Gilbert. "The men I've to deal with have no more -respect for the Lord's day than you have for a Popish -fast, so we must put that out of account."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel, weel," said Nicol, "if that's sae it maun -be sae. Will ye gang oot wi' him the day?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," said I, "not that I am caring for the day, -for you mind the proverb, 'the better the day the -better the work,' but, being in a foreign land, I am -loth to break with the customs of my country. So -we'll keep the Sabbath, Nicol my lad, and let Gilbert -whistle."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I would not have him who may read this -narrative think, from my conduct on this occasion, that -I was whiggishly inclined, for, indeed, I cared naught -about such little matters. I would have a man use -the Sabbath like any other day, saving that, as it seems -to me, it is a day which may profitably be used for -serious reading and meditation. But I was ever of a -curious disposition, liking to be always in mind of -Tweeddale and the folk there, so that I kept the -Sabbath during my life abroad as strictly as a covenanting -minister on the moors of Ayr.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel, Laird, that means ye'll no see the body -though he comes," said Nicol, "and, God help me, -if ye dae that there'll be a terrible stramash at the -street door. I'se warrant auld Mistress Vanderdecker -'ll get her ribs knockit in if she tries to keep them oot."</p> -<p class="pnext">"They can make all the noise they please," said -I hotly, "but if it comes to that the two of us are -as good as their bit officers. I ask for nothing better -than to take some of the pride out of Gilbert's friends -with the flat of my sword. Then if they come -to-day and are refused entrance, they will come back -to-morrow, and all will be well."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then what am I to dae? When the bodies -come to the door, I'm to say, 'His lordship's -compliments, but his lordship's busy keeping the Sabbath -in his upper chamber, and if ye will come back the -morn he'll look into your claims.' 'Faith, it's awfu' -like auld Sanders Blackett, the lawyer at Peebles, when -I gaed to him seeking the law o' the miller o' Rachan. -It was about nine o'clock yae winter's nicht when I -got there, and Sanders was at supper. He stappit his -heid oot o' the window and, says he, 'Gang awa', my -man, and come back the morn. I'm busy takin' the -books.' But I saw by the een o' him that he was -daein' nae siccan thing. 'Oh,' says I, 'if ye ca' -kippered saumon and schnapps the books, I'm -content. I'll just come in and help ye to tak them -tae.' But he says verra angry, 'Go away, ye impious man, -lest the judgment of Heaven light upon you. I've -godly Maister Clovenclaws assisting me in the solemn -ordinance.' 'Awa' wi' your Clovenclaws,' says I, -'I've come ten mile to speak wi' ye, and I'll no -gang hame wi'oot it.' But I was just thinkin' I -would have to gang back after a', when a voice comes -frae the inside, 'Sanders, ye limb o' the deil, whaur's -the sugar?' I kenned Maister Clovenclaws' voice -ower weel, so Sanders begins to think that it wadna -dae to let it be telled a' ower the toun that him and -the minister had been birling at the wine thegither. -So 'Come in, Maister Plenderleith,' says he verra -cannily, and in I gaed, and sic a nicht's drinking I -never saw. I put Sanders in his bed, honest man, -about twae o'clock i' the morning, and syne Clovenclaws -and me gaed at it till daylicht. I wantit to see -the body below the table afore I gaed, and he wantit -to see me, so we sat at it till I was fain to drap for -very decency's sake. So what does the man dae but -lift me on his shouther and walk as straucht ower to -the manse as if he were new oot o' his bed; and -there he gied me some guid advice about no presumin' -to contend wi' my superiors, and let me oot at a back -door. 'Faith, it was an awfu' time."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You will say to them that I am busy with other -work, and that I will be glad to see them to-morrow -about the matter they know of. Most like they -will go away quietly, and if they do not it will -be the worse for their own skins. You take my -meaning?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll dae your orders, sir, to the letter," said -Nicol, and I was well aware that he would.</p> -<p class="pnext">I got my books out and set to work to read the -gospel of John in Greek for my spiritual benefit, but -I made little speed. This was mainly the fault of -Nicol, who every few minutes came into the little -room where I sat, on some feigned errand. I soon -divined the reason, for the same chamber contained a -great window, whence one might view the whole -length of the narrow street wherein the house was -situate, and even some little portion of the great -Breedestraat at the head. It was plain that my -servant was not a little concerned on my account.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Are ye sure that your honour's guid wi' the -small-swird?" he asked mournfully. "If this room were -a wee bit braider and the day no what it is I micht gie -ye a lesson."</p> -<p class="pnext">I did not know whether to laugh or to be angry. -"Why, you rascal," I cried, "do you know -anything of these matters? There are many better -swordsmen than I in the world, but I think I am -more than a match for you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel," said Nicol modestly, "I've gien some -folk a gey fricht wi' the swird, but let that be. I'll -be blithe if ye get the better o' him and a waefu' man -I'll be if he kills ye. Lord, what 'll I dae? I'll -hae to become a sodger in this heathen land, or soom -hame, whilk is a thing I am no capable o'." And he -began to sing with a great affectation of grief:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">The craw killed the pussie O,</div> -<div class="line">The craw killed the pussie O,</div> -<div class="line">The wee bit kittlin' sat and grat</div> -<div class="line">In Jennie's wee bit hoosie O.</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">—in which elegant rhyme the reader will observe that -my cousin stood for the crow, I for the pussie, and -my servant for the kittlin'.</p> -<p class="pnext">I laughed; but it is not seemly to stand by while -your own servant sings a song which compares you to a -cat, so I straightway flung a Greek lexicon at his head, -and bade him leave the room. I much regretted the -act, for it was my only copy of the book, Master -Struybroek's, and the best obtainable, and by the fall -some leaves came out, and one, [Greek: <em class="italics">polypenthés</em>] -to [Greek: <em class="italics">polypous</em>], has not been renewed to this day.</p> -<p class="pnext">After Nicol had gone I amused myself by looking -out of the window and watching the passers-by. Some, -sober Dutch citizens with Bibles beneath their arms -and their goodly persons habited in decent black, were -striding solemnly to church, while their wives and -children came more slowly behind. Others of the -lighter sort were wandering aimlessly on no purpose -but their own pleasure, but all I marked were dressed -out in their finest clothes. What I noted most of all -was the greater colour in the streets than we have in -our own land. For there, you will see little but blacks -and drabs and browns, while here the women were -often gaily arrayed in bright tints which gave a -pleasing look to the causeway.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had not sat long when I noted two gentlemen -coming down the alley from the Breedestraat, very -finely clad, and with a great air of distinction in their -faces. They kept the causeway in such a fashion -that all whom they met had to get into the middle of -the road to let them pass. I half guessed their errand, -the more as the face of one of them seemed to me -familiar, and I fancied that he had been one of the -guests at the supper at Alphen. My guess was -confirmed by their coming to a halt outside the door of my -lodging and attentively considering the house. -Meantime all their actions were plain to my view from the -upper window.</p> -<p class="pnext">One of them stepped forward and knocked loudly. -Now I had bidden Nicol be ready to open to them -and give my message. So I was not surprised when -I heard the street door opened and the voice of my -servant accosting the men.</p> -<p class="pnext">I know not what he said to them, but soon words -grew high and I could see the other come forward to -his comrade's side. By and by the door was slammed -violently, and my servant came tearing upstairs. His -face was flushed in wrath.</p> -<p class="pnext">"O' a' the insolent scoondrels I ever met, thae -twae are the foremost. They wadna believe me when -I telled them ye were busy. 'Busy at what?' says -the yin. 'What's your concern?' says I. 'If ye -dinna let us up to see your maister in half a -twinkling,' says the ither, 'by God we'll make ye.' 'Make -me!' says I; 'come on and try it. If it wasna for -your mither's sake I wal tie your necks thegither.'"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nicol," I said, "bring these men up. It will -be better to see them." My intention changed of -a sudden, for I did not seek to carry my finicking too -far.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I was thinkin' sae, your honour," said Nicol, -"but I didna like to say it."</p> -<p class="pnext">So in a little the two gentlemen came up the stairs -and into my room, where I waited to receive them.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gentlemen," said I, "I believe you have some -matter to speak of with me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why do you keep such scoundrelly servants, -Master Burnet?" said one, whom I knew for Sir -James Erskine of Tullo.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your business, gentlemen," I said, seeking to -have done with them. They were slight men, whom -I could have dropped out of the window; most unlike -the kind of friends I should have thought my cousin -Gilbert would have chosen.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, if you will have our business," said the -elder, speaking sulkily, "you are already aware of the -unparalleled insult to which a gentlemen of our -regiment was subjected at your hands?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, yes," I said gaily, "I had forgotten. I -broke Gilbert's head with a wine-glass. Does he -want to ask my pardon?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You seem to take the matter easily, sir," said -one severely. "Let me tell you that Master Gilbert -Burnet demands that you meet him at once and give -satisfaction with your sword."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Right," I cried, "I am willing. At what hour -shall it be? Shall we say seven o'clock to-morrow's -morning? That is settled then? I have no second -and desire none. There is the length of my sword. -Carry my compliments to my cousin, and tell him I -shall be most pleased to chastise him at the hour we -have named. And now, gentlemen, I have the honour -to wish you a very good day," and I bowed them out -of the room.</p> -<p class="pnext">They were obviously surprised and angered by my -careless reception of their message and themselves. -With faces as flushed as a cock's comb they went -down stairs and into the street, and I marked that -they never once looked back, but marched straight -on with their heads in the air.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye've gien thae lads a flee in their lug," said -Nicol. "I wish ye may gie your cousin twae inches -o' steel in his vitals the morn."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah," said I, "that is a different matter. These -folk were but dandified fools. My cousin is a man -and a soldier."</p> -<p class="pnext">The rest of the day I spent in walking by myself in -the meadows beyond the college gardens, turning over -many things in my mind. I had come to this land -for study, and lo! ere I well knew how, I was -involved in quarrels. I felt something of a feeling of -shame in the matter, for the thing had been brought -on mainly by my over-fiery temper. Yet when I -pondered deeply I would not have the act undone, for a -display of foolish passion was better in my eyes than -the suffering of an insult to a lady to pass unregarded.</p> -<p class="pnext">As for the fight on the morrow I did not know -whether to await it with joy or shrinking. As I have -said already, I longed to bring matters between the -two of us to a head. There was much about him -that I liked; he had many commendable virtues; and -especially he belonged to my own house. But it -seemed decreed that he should ever come across my -path, and already there was more than one score laid -up against him in my heart. I felt a strange foreboding -of the man, as if he were my <em class="italics">antithesis</em>, which -certain monkish philosophers believed to accompany -everyone in the world. He was so utterly different -from me in all things; my vices he lacked and my -virtues; his excellencies I wanted, and also, I trust, -his faults. I felt as if the same place could not -contain us.</p> -<p class="pnext">If I conquered him, the upshot would be clear -enough. He could not remain longer in Leyden. -His reputation, which was a great one, would be gone, -and he would doubtless change into some other -regiment and retire from the land. If, again, he had the -vantage of me, I had no reputation to lose, so I -might remain where I pleased. So he fought with -something of a disadvantage. It was possible that one -or other might be killed; but I much doubted it, for -we were both too practised swordsmen to butcher like -common cutthroats. Nevertheless, I felt not a little -uneasy, with a sort of restlessness to see the issue of -it all—not fear, for though I have been afraid many -times in my life it was never because of meeting a -man in fair combat.</p> -<p class="pnext">Toward evening I returned to my lodging and -devoted the remainder of the day to the study of the -books of Joshua and Judges for the comforting of my -soul.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-first-monday-of-march">CHAPTER VI</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE FIRST MONDAY OF MARCH</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Nicol wakened me before dawn and I made haste -to get ready. I looked to see that my sword was in -fit condition, for it was a stout cut-and-thrust blade of -the kind which speedily takes the rust. Then having -taken a draught of strong ale to brace my nerves for -the encounter, I left the house and set off with my -servant for the college gardens.</p> -<p class="pnext">The morning was clear and fresh. The sun had -not yet fully arisen, but it was light enough to see two -hundred yards before me. A sharp wind fluttered -my cloak, and sent a thrill of strength through me, -for it minded me of the hill breezes which were wont -to blow on the heights of Scrape. There was scarce -anyone stirring save a few drowsy burghers whom it -behoved to be attending to their business in the early -morn. I kept my cloak well over my face, for I did -not relish the notion of being recognised by anyone -on my errand.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now, from the college gardens there stretches down -to the great canal a most beautiful pleasaunce, all set -with flower beds and fountains. Beyond this, again, -is a more rugged land—a grove with great patches of -grass in it, and here it was that gentlemen of the -Scots regiment were wont to settle their differences. -The morning had been chosen as the time when it -was less likely that some interloping busybody might -interrupt us.</p> -<p class="pnext">I cannot tell how I felt as I walked through the cool -morning air among the young herbs and trees which -still bore the dew upon them. It minded me so keenly -of the mornings at home in Tweeddale, when I was -used to rise before daylight and go far up Tweed with -my rod, and bring back, if my luck were good, great -baskets of trout. Now I was bound on a different -errand. It was even possible that I might see my -own land no more. But this thought I dismissed as -unworthy of one who would be thought a cavalier.</p> -<p class="pnext">In time we came to the spot which the others had -fixed on. There I found my men already waiting -me; my cousin stripped to his sark and small-clothes, -with his blade glimmering as he felt its edge; his -companions muffled up in heavy cloaks and keeping guard -over Gilbert's stripped garments. They greeted me -shortly as I came up, so without more ado I took off -my coat and vest, and gave them into my servant's -keeping. Then going up co my opponent I took his hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let there be no malice between us, Gilbert," -said I. "I was rash maybe, but I am here to give -account of my rashness."</p> -<p class="pnext">"So be it, cousin," he said, as he took my hand -coldly.</p> -<p class="pnext">We both stepped back a pace and crossed swords, -and in a trice we had fallen to.</p> -<p class="pnext">My first thought, and I am not ashamed to confess -it, when I felt my steel meet the steel of my foe, was -one of arrant and tumultuous fear. I had never before -crossed swords with anyone in deadly hatred; and in -my case the thing was the harder, for the feeling -against my cousin was not so violent a passion as to -make me heedless of aught else. Before me, behind -the back of my antagonist, the thick underwood was -already filled with the twittering of birds, and a great -feeling of longing came upon me to get well through -with the affair and escape death. For now a feeling -which I had not reckoned with came to oppress me—the -fear of death. Had my wits been more about me, -I might have reflected that my cousin was too good a -swordsman to kill me and lay himself open to many -penalties. But my mind was in such a confusion -that I could think of naught but an overwhelming -danger.</p> -<p class="pnext">Howbeit, in a little this fit passed, and once more -I was myself. Gilbert, for what reason I know not, -fenced swiftly and violently. Blow came upon blow -till I scarce could keep my breath. I fell at once -upon the defensive, and hazarded never a cut, but -set all my powers to preserving my skin. And in -truth this was no easy task, for he had acquired a -villainous trick of passing suddenly from the leg-cut to -the head-stroke, so that more than once I came not up -to guard in time and had his sword almost among my -hair. I could not guess what he meant by this strategy, -for I had ever believed that a man who began in a -hot-fit ended in a languor. He sought, I doubt not, to -speedily put an end to the encounter by putting forth -his greater strength, hoping to beat down my guard or -bewilder me with the multiplicity of his flourishes.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now this conduct of my opponent had an effect the -very counter of what he proposed. I became -completely at my ease; indeed, I swear I never felt more -cool in my life. This has ever been the way with -me, for I have always been at my best in the -extremest perils. Oftentimes when things went very sore -with me, I was at a loss and saw no way of escape; -but let them get a little worse and I was ready to meet -them. So now I was on the watch to frustrate every -moment, and since no man can fight rapidly and fight -well, I kept him at bay till he deemed it prudent to -give up this method.</p> -<p class="pnext">But now when he came down to slow, skilful fence -I found my real danger. We were well matched, as -had been proved in many a harmless encounter on -the turf by the Tweed. I was something lighter, he -somewhat stronger in the arm and firmer in the body; -but taking us all in all we were as equal a pair as ever -crossed swords. And now there was an utter silence; -even the birds on the trees seemed to have ceased. -The others no longer talked. The sharp clatter and -ring of the swords had gone, and in its place was a -deadly <em class="italics">swish—swish</em>, which every man who has heard it -dreads, for it means that each stroke grazes the vitals. -I would have given much in that hour for another inch -to my arm. I put forth all my skill of fence. All -that I had learned from Tam Todd, all that I had -found out by my own wits was present to me; but try -as I would, and I warrant you I tried my utmost, -I could not overreach my opponent. Yet I fenced -steadily, and if I made no progress, I did not yield my -ground.</p> -<p class="pnext">With Gilbert the case was otherwise. His play was -the most brilliant I had ever seen, full of fantastic -feints and flourishes such as is the French fashion. -But I could not think that a man could last for ever -in this style, since for one stroke of my arm there -were two of his and much leaping from place to place. -But beyond doubt he pressed me close. Again and -again I felt his steel slipping under my guard, and it -was only by a violent parry that I escaped. One -stroke had cut open my sleeve and grazed my arm, -but beyond this no one of us had suffered hurt.</p> -<p class="pnext">But soon a thing which I had scarcely foreseen -began to daunt me. I was placed facing the east, -and the rising sun began to catch my eyes. The -ground was my own choosing, so my ill-luck was -my own and no fault of Gilbert's. But it soon -began to interfere heavily with my play. I could only -stand on guard. I dared not risk a bold stroke, lest, -my eyes being dazzled by the light, I should -miscalculate the distance. I own I began to feel a spasm -of fear. More than one of my opponent's strokes -came within perilous nearness. The ground too was -not firm, and my foot slid once and again when I tried -to advance. To add to it all there was Gilbert's face -above the point of the swords, cold, scornful, and -triumphant. I began to feel incredibly weak about the -small of the back, and I suppose my arm must have -wavered, for in guarding a shoulder-cut I dropped my -point, and my enemy's blade scratched my left arm -just above the elbow. I staggered back with the shock -of the blow, and my cousin had a moment's -breathing-space. I was so obviously the loser in the game, -that Gilbert grew merry at my expense.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well, John," he cried, "does't hurt thee? -My arm is somewhat rougher than Marjory's."</p> -<p class="pnext">There seems little enough in the words, yet I -cannot tell how that taunt angered me. In the mouth of -another I had not minded it, but I had a way of -growing hot whenever I thought of my cousin and my lady -in the same minute of time. It called to my mind a -flood of bitter memories. In this encounter, at any -rate, it was the saving of me. Once more I was -myself, and now I had that overmastering passionate hate -which I lacked before. When I crossed swords again -I felt no doubt of the issue and desired only to hasten -it. He on his part must have seen something in my -eyes which he did not like, for he ceased his flourishes -and fell on defence.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then it was that the real combat of the day -commenced. Before it had been little more than a trial of -skill, now it was a deadly and determined battle. In -my state of mind I would have killed my foe with a -light heart, however much I might have sorrowed for -it after. And now he began to see the folly of his -conduct in the fore-part of the fight. I was still fresh -and stout of arm; he was a little weary and his -self-confidence a little gone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"By God, Gilbert, you will eat your words," I -cried, and had at him with might and main.</p> -<p class="pnext">I fenced as I had never fenced before, not rashly, -but persistently, fiercely, cunningly. Every attempt -of his I met and foiled. Again and again I was within -an ace of putting an end to the thing, but for some -trifling obstacle which hindered me. He now fought -sullenly, with fear in his eyes, for he knew not what -I purposed concerning him. I warrant he rued his -taunt a hundred times in those brief minutes.</p> -<p class="pnext">At last my opportunity came. He made a desperate -lunge forward, swung half round and exposed his -right arm. I thrust skilfully and true. Straight -through cloth and skin went my blade, and almost ere -I knew I had spitted him clean through the arm just -above the elbow. The sword dropped from his -helpless hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had put forth too much strength, for as he -stumbled back with the shock of the wound I could not -check my course, but staggered heavily against him -and together we rolled on the ground.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a second I was on my feet and had drawn out -my weapon. With lowered point I awaited his -rising, for he was now powerless to continue.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well," said I, "have you had satisfaction?"</p> -<p class="pnext">He rose to his feet with an ugly smile. "Sufficient -for the present, cousin John," said he. "I -own you have got the better of me this time. Hi, -Stephen, will you lend me a kerchief to bind this -cursed wound?"</p> -<p class="pnext">One of his companions came up and saw to his -wants. I made to go away, for there was no further -need of my presence, but my cousin called me back.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Farewell, John," he said. "Let us not part in -anger, as before. Parting in anger, they say, means -meeting in friendship. And, 'faith, I would rather -part from you in all love and meet you next in -wrath."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Farewell," I said carelessly as I departed, though -I was amazed to hear a man with a pierced arm speak -so lightly. Courage was not a quality which my -cousin had to seek. So I left him in high good -humour with myself, much pleased at my own prowess, -and sensible that all immediate annoyance from -that quarter was at an end.</p> -<p class="pnext">Little man knows what God hath prepared for him. -Had it not been for his defeat, Gilbert had not left -Holland, and my greater misfortunes had never -happened. And yet at that hour I rejoiced that I had rid -myself of a torment.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nicol was awaiting me, and soon I was arrayed in -my coat once more, for the air was shrewdly cold. -My servant was pale as I had never seen him before, -and it was clear that he had watched the combat with -much foreboding.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Eh, Maister John," he cried, "ye're a braw -fechter. I never likit ye half as weel. I thocht a' -was up whiles, but ye aye cam to yoursel' as sprig as -a wull-cat. Ye're maybe a wee thing weak i' the -heid-cuts, though," he added. "I'll hae to see to -ye. It's no what ye micht ca' profitable to be aye -proddin' a man in the wame, for ye may prick him a' -ower and him no muckle the waur. But a guid -cleavin' slash on the harns is maist judeecious. It -wad kill a stirk."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was still early and we had breakfasted sparely, so -we sought a tavern of good repute, <em class="italics">The Three Crows</em>, -and made a hearty meal, washing it down with the -best Rhenish. I was so mightily pleased with my -victory, like a child with its toy, that I held my head -a full inch higher, and would yield the causeway to no -man. I do believe if M. Balagny or the great Lord -Herbert had challenged me I would not have refused.</p> -<p class="pnext">Some three days later I had sure tidings that my -cousin had sailed for Leith and was thought to have -no design of returning.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-spend-my-days-in-idleness">CHAPTER VII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I SPEND MY DAYS IN IDLENESS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Summer came on the heels of spring, and the little -strip of garden below my windows grew gay as the -frock of a burgher's wife on a Sunday. There were -great lines of tulips, purple and red and yellow, -stately as kings, erect as a line of soldiers, which -extended down the long border nigh to the edge of the -water. The lawn was green and well trimmed and -shaded by the orderly trees. It was pleasant to sit -here in the evenings, when Nicol would bring out the -supper-table to the grass, and we would drink our -evening ale while the sun was making all the canal a -strip of beaten gold. Many folk used to come of an -evening, some of them come to the university on the -same errand as myself, others, Scots gentlemen out of -place and out of pocket, who sought to remedy both -evils by paying court to the Stadtholder. Then we -would talk of our own land and tell tales and crack -jests till the garden rang with laughter. I could well -wish those times back, if I could bring with them the -<em class="italics">forte latus, nigros angusta fronte capillos, dulce loqui, -ridere decorum</em>. But fie on me for such discontent! -Hath not God given good gifts for age as well as -youth—aye, perhaps in greater abundance?</p> -<p class="pnext">I pursued my studies in the ancient literatures and -philosophy with much diligence and profit. Nevertheless, -there was much to turn my attention, and I -doubt if I did not find the folk around me the more -diverting objects of study. I lived in an air of -theology and philosophy and statecraft, hearing discussions -on these and kindred matters all the day long. There -were many of my own countrymen in the place, who -are notoriously the most contentious of mankind: so -that I could scarcely walk down any street without -hearing some violent disputation in my own tongue. -As for the other people of the place, I found them both -civil and hospitable.</p> -<p class="pnext">The routine of my days was as regular as clockwork, -for it was always part of my method to apportion my -day equally among my duties. In the morning, -immediately upon rising, I went to Master Sandvoort's -lecture on the Latin tongue. Then I broke my fast -in the little tavern, <em class="italics">The Gray Goose</em>, just at the south -entrance to the college. It was a clean, well-fitted -place, where was found the fattest landlord and the -best ale in Holland. Then at the hour of ten in the -forenoon I went to listen to the eloquence of Master -Quellinus. Having returned thence to my lodging -I was wont to spend the time till dinner in study. -Thereafter I walked in the town, or resorted to the -houses of my friends, or read in the garden till maybe -four o'clock, when it was my custom to go to the -dwelling of Sir William Crichtoun (him whom I have -spoken of before), and there, in the company of such -Scots gentlemen as pleaded to come, to pass the time -very pleasantly. From these meetings I had vast -profit, for I learned something of the conduct of affairs -and the ways of the world, in the knowledge of which -I had still much to seek. Then home once more to -study, and then to bed with a clear conscience and -great drowsiness.</p> -<p class="pnext">But there were several incidents which befell during -this time, and which served to break the monotony of -my life, which merit the telling. Firstly, towards the -end of September who should come to visit me but my -kinsman, Gilbert Burnet of Salisbury, a scholar shrewd -and profound, a gentleman of excellent parts, and the -devoutest Christian it has ever been my lot to fall in -with. He was just returning from his journey to -Italy, whereof he has written in his work, "Some -Letters to T.H.R.B. Concerning his Travels in Italy -and Holland." It was one afternoon as I sat in the -arbour that Nicol came across the green followed by -an elderly man of grave and comely appearance. It -was to my great joy that I recognised my kinsman. -He had alighted in Leyden that morning and proposed -to abide there some days. I would have it that he -should put up at my lodgings, and thither he came after -many entreaties. During his stay in the city he -visited many of the greater folk, for his fame had already -gone abroad, and he was welcome everywhere. He -was a man of delightful converse, for had he not -travelled in many lands and mixed with the most famous? -He questioned me as to my progress in letters and -declared himself more than satisfied. "For, John," -said he, "I have met many who had greater knowledge, -but none of a more refined taste and excellent -judgment. Did you decide on the profession of a -scholar I think I could promise you a singular success. -But indeed it is absurd to think of it, for you, as I -take it, are a Burnet and a man of action and one never -to be satisfied with a life of study. I counsel you not -to tarry too long in this foreign land, for your country -hath sore need of men like you in her present distress." Then -he fell to questioning me as to my opinions on -matters political and religious. I told him that I was -for the church and the king to the death, but that I -held that the one would be the better of a little -moderation in its course, and that the other had fallen into -indifferent hands. I told him that it grieved my heart -to hear of my own countrymen pursued like partridges -on the mountains by some blackguard soldiers, and -that when I did return, while deeming it my duty to -take the part of the king in all things, I would also -think it right to hinder to the best of my power the -persecution. In this matter he applauded me. It -pained him more than he could tell, said he, to think -that the church of his own land was in such an ill -condition that it did not trust its friends. "What in -Heaven's name is all this pother?" he cried. "Is a -man to suffer because he thinks one way of worshipping -his God better than another? Rather let us -rejoice when he worships Him at all, whether it be at -a dyke-side or in the King's Chapel." And indeed -in this matter he was of my own way of thinking. -When finally he took his leave it was to my great -regret, for I found him a man of kindly and sober -counsels.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet his visit had one result which I had little -dreamed of, for it led me to show greater friendliness -to such of the Scots covenanters as were refugees in -the town. I learned something of their real godliness -and courage, and was enabled to do them many little -services. In particular, such letters as they wished -to write to their friends at home I transmitted under -my own name and seal, since all communication with -Holland was highly suspected unless from a man of -approved loyalty.</p> -<p class="pnext">The other matter which I think worth noting was -the acquaintance I formed with a Frenchman, one -M. de Rohaine, a gentleman of birth, who was in -great poverty and abode in a mean street off the Garen -Markt. The way in which I first met him was -curious. I was coming home late one evening from -Master Swinton's house, and in passing through a little -alley which leads from near the college to the Garen -Markt, I was apprised of some disturbance by a loud -noise of tumult. Pushing forward amid a crowd of -apprentices and fellows of the baser sort, I saw a little -man, maybe a tailor or cobbler from his appearance, -with his back against a door and sore pressed by three -ruffians, who kept crying out that now they would -pay him for his miserly ways. The mob was clearly -on their side, for it kept applauding whenever they -struck or jostled him. I was just in the act of going -forward to put an end to so unequal a combat, when -a tall grave man thrust himself out of the throng and -cried out in Dutch for them to let go. They -answered with some taunt, and almost before I knew he -had taken two of the three, one in either hand, and -made their heads meet with a sounding crack. I was -hugely delighted with the feat, and broke forward to -offer my help, for it soon became clear that this -champion would have to use all his wits to get out of -the place. The three came at him swearing vehemently, -and with evil looks in their eyes. He nodded -to me as I took my stand at his side.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Look after the red-beard, friend," he cried. "I -will take the other two."</p> -<p class="pnext">And then I found my hands full indeed, for my -opponent was tough and active, and cared nothing for -the rules of honourable warfare. In the end, -however, my training got the mastery, and I pinked him -very prettily in the right leg, and so put him out of the -fight. Then I had time to turn to the others, and -here I found my new-found comrade sore bested. He -had an ugly cut in his forehead, whence a trickle of -blood crawled over his face. But his foes were in a -worse case still, and when word came at the moment -that a body of the guard was coming they made off -with all speed.</p> -<p class="pnext">The man turned and offered me his hand,</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let me thank you, sir, whoever you may be," -said he. "I am the Sieur de Rohaine at your service."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And I am Master John Burnet of Barns in Scotland," -said I.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What," he cried, "a Scot!" And nothing -would serve him but that I must come with him to -his lodging and join him at supper. For, as it seemed, -he himself had just come from Scotland, and was full -of memories of the land.</p> -<p class="pnext">I found him a man according to my heart. When -I spoke of his gallantry he but shrugged his shoulders. -"Ah," said he, "it was ever my way to get into -scrapes of that kind. Were I less ready to mix in -others' business I had been a richer and happier man -to-day," and he sighed.</p> -<p class="pnext">From him I learned something more of the condition -of my own land, and it was worse even than I had -feared. M. de Rohaine had had many strange -adventures in it, but he seemed to shrink from speaking of -himself and his own affairs. There was in his eyes a -look of fixed melancholy as of one who had encountered -much sorrow in his time and had little hope for more -happiness in the world. Yet withal he was so gracious -and noble in presence that I felt I was in the company -of a man indeed.</p> -<p class="pnext">If I were to tell all the benefit I derived from this -man I should fill a volume and never reach the end of -my tale. Suffice it to say that from him I learned -many of the tricks of sword play, so that soon I -became as nigh perfect in the art as it was ever in my -power to be. I learned too of other lands where he -had been and wars which he had fought; and many -tales which I have often told at home in Tweeddale I -first heard from his lips. I was scarce ever out of his -company, until one day he received a letter from a -kinsman bidding him return on urgent necessity. He -made his farewells to me with great regret, and on -parting bade me count on his aid if I should ever need -it. From that day to this I have never cast eyes on -his face or heard tidings of him, but I herewith charge -all folk of my family who may read this tale, if ever -it be their fortune to meet with one of his name or -race, that they befriend him to the best of their power, -seeing that he did much kindness to me.</p> -<p class="pnext">So the summer passed with one thing and another, -till, ere I knew, winter was upon us. And I would -have you know that winter in the Low Countries is -very different from winter with us among the hills of -Tweed. For here we have much mist and rain and -a very great deal of snow; also the cold is of a kind -hard to endure, since it is not of the masterful, -overbearing kind, but raw and invidious. But there the -frost begins in late autumn and keeps on well till -early spring. Nor was there in my experience much -haze or rain, but the weather throughout the months -was dry and piercing. Little snow fell, beyond a -sprinkling in the fore-end of January. Every stream -and pond, every loch and canal was hard and fast with -ice, and that of the purest blue colour and the keenest -temper I have ever seen. All the townsfolk turned -out to disport themselves on the frozen water, having -their feet shod with runners of steel wherewith they -performed the most wondrous feats of activity. The -peasant-girls going to market with their farm produce -were equipped with these same runners, and on them -proceeded more quickly than if they had ridden on -the highroad.</p> -<p class="pnext">Often, too, during the winter, there were festivals -on the ice, when the men arrayed in thick clothes and -the women in their bravest furs came to amuse -themselves at this pastime. I went once or twice as a -spectator, and when I saw the ease and grace of the -motion was straightway smitten with a monstrous -desire to do likewise. So I bought a pair of runners -and fitted them on my feet. I shall not dwell upon -my immediate experiences, of which indeed I have no -clear remembrance, having spent the better part of -that afternoon on the back of my head in great bodily -discomfort. But in time I made myself master of the -art and soon was covering the ice as gaily as the -best of them. I still remember the trick of the thing, -and five years ago, when the floods in Tweed made a -sea of the lower part of Manor valley, and the -subsequent great frost made this sea as hard as the -high-road, I buckled on my runners and had great diversion, -to the country folks' amazement.</p> -<p class="pnext">In all this time I had had many letters from -Marjory, letters writ in a cheerful, pleasant tone, praying -indeed for my return, but in no wise complaining of -my absence. They were full of news of the folk of -Tweedside, how Tam Todd was faring at Barns, and -what sport her brother Michael was having in the -haughlands among the wild-duck. I looked eagerly -for the coming of those letters, for my heart was ever -at Dawyck, and though I much enjoyed my sojourning -in Holland, I was yet glad and willing for the -time of departure to arrive. In January of the next -year I received a bundle of news written in the gayest -of spirits; but after that for three months and more I -heard nothing. From this long silence I had much -food for anxiety, for though I wrote, I am sure, some -half-dozen times, no reply ever came. The uneasiness -into which this put me cast something of a gloom -over the latter part of the winter. I invented a -hundred reasons to explain it. Marjory might be ill; the -letters might have gone astray; perhaps she had -naught to tell me. But I could not satisfy myself -with these excuses, so I had e'en to wait the issue -of events.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was not till the month of April that I had news -from my love, and what this was I shall hasten to tell.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-coming-of-the-brig-seamaw">CHAPTER VIII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE COMING OF THE BRIG SEAMAW</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was the third day of April, a day so cool and mild -that every one who could was in the open air, that -I sat in the little strip of garden behind my lodging, -reading the Symposium of Plato in the light of certain -digests of Master Quellinus. The beds of hyacinth, -yellow and blue and red, were flaunting before my eyes, -and down by the water's edge the swallows were -twittering and skimming. The soft spring wind fluttered -the leaves of my book and stirred my hair, so that I -found it hard indeed to keep my attention fixed. -Some yards behind me Nicol sat cleaning a fishing-rod, -for in the idle days he amused himself with -trying his skill among the sleepy streams. He was -whistling some bars of "Leezie Lindsay," and the -tune, which I had often heard in Tweeddale, put me -much in mind of home and inclined my heart violently -to the place I had left. So soon I found my Plato -lying listlessly on my lap, and my thoughts far away -over sea.</p> -<p class="pnext">Just now, I knew, would be the lambing-time in -the Tweed hills, and all the valleys would be filled -with the noise of sheep. The shepherds, too, would -be burning the bent, and the moors sending up wreaths -of pungent smoke. I minded the smell so well that I -almost fancied it was in my nostrils in place of the -moist perfume of hyacinth and violet. At Barns, -Tam Todd would be seeing to the young trees and -fishing in the full streams. At Dawyck, Marjory -would be early abroad, plucking the spring flowers -and bringing in armfuls of apple-blossom to deck the -rooms. The thought of Marjory gave me sudden -discomfort. I reflected for the thousandth time that -I had heard nothing of her for months, and I fell to -wondering greatly at her silence. By and by, what with -thinking of home and of her and chafing at her neglect, -I found myself in a very pretty state of discontentment.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was just then that I heard a voice behind me, and -turning round saw Nicol approaching in company with -another. The stranger was a man of remarkable -appearance. He was scarcely the middle height, but his -breadth across the shoulders was so great that he -seemed almost dwarfish. He had arms of extraordinary -length, so long that they reached almost to his -knees, like the Tartars in Muscovy that I have read -of. His square, weather-beaten face was filled with -much good humour, and the two eyes which looked out -from beneath his shaggy brows were clear and shrewd.</p> -<p class="pnext">"This is Maister Silas Steen o' the brig Seamaw," -said Nicol, making an introduction, "whae has come -from Scotland this morning, and says he has letters -wi' him for you." Having delivered himself, my -servant retreated, and left the newcomer alone with me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll be Master John Burnet of Barns?" said -he, looking at me sharply.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The same, at your service," said I.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's just a bit letter for you," and he dived into -his pocket and produced a packet.</p> -<p class="pnext">I took it hastily, for I had some guess who was the -writer. Nor was I wrong, for one glance at the -superscription told me the truth. And this is how it -ran:</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"<em class="italics">For Master John Burnet in the house of Mistress -Vanderdecker near the Breedestraat, at Leyden</em>.</p> -<p class="pnext">"DEAR JOHN: I have not written thee for long, -and I trust that thereby I have not given thee trouble. -I am well and happy, when this leaves me, though -desiring thy return. I trust your studies are to your -satisfaction. Tam Todd, from the Barns, was over -yestreen, and gave a good account of all things -there."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Then came a pause, and the writing was resumed -in a hurried, irregular hand.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"I am not free to write my will. O John, dear -John, come back to me. I am so unhappy. I -cannot survive without thee another day" (this latter -word had been scored out and <em class="italics">month</em> put in its place). -"I am in dreadful perplexity. Come quick.</p> -<p class="pnext">"MARJORY."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">You may imagine into what state of mind the -reading of this letter threw me. My lady was in -trouble, that was enough for me, and she desired my -aid. I guessed that the letter had been written -stealthily and that some trouble had been found in its -conveyance, for it bore the marks of much crumpling and -haste. I could make no conjecture as to its meaning, -and this doubt only the more increased my impatience.</p> -<p class="pnext">"From whom did you get this?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"From a great, thin, swart man, who brought it -to me at Leith, and bade me deliver it. I came post -haste from Rotterdam this day."</p> -<p class="pnext">I ran over in my mind the serving-folk at Dawyck, -and could think of none such. Then, like a flash, -I remembered Tam Todd. This doubly increased my -fears. If Marjory could get no porter for her -message save one of my own servants, then the trouble -must be at Dawyck itself.</p> -<p class="pnext">I can find no words for the depths of my anxiety. -To think of Marjory in sorrow and myself separated -by leagues of land and sea well-nigh drove me -distracted. There and then I resolved on my course.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your ship is at Rotterdam?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," said the captain.</p> -<p class="pnext">"When does she sail?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"To-morrow night, when the cargo is on board."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll give you twenty pieces of gold if you'll sail -to-night."</p> -<p class="pnext">The captain shook his head. "It canna be -done," he cried; "my freight is lace and schiedam, -worth four times twenty pieces, and I canna have a -voyage for naething."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Listen," said I, "I am in terrible perplexity. -I would give you a hundred, if I had them; but I -promise you, if you bring me safely to the port of -Leith, they shall be paid. Ride back to your vessel -and ship all the stuff you can, and I will be with -you at eleven o'clock this night, ready to sail."</p> -<p class="pnext">The fellow shook his head, but said nothing.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Man, man," I cried, "for God's sake, I implore -you. It's a matter to me of desperate import. See, -there are your twenty pieces, and I'll give you my -bond for eighty, to be paid when we win to Leith."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tut, Master Burnet," said he, "I will not be -taking your money. But I'm wae to see you in -trouble. I'll take you over the nicht for the twenty -pieces, and if I lose on the venture, you can make -it up to me. It's safer carrying you and running -straight for the pier, than carrying schiedam and -dodging about the Bass. And I'm not a man that -need count his pennies. Forbye, I see there's a lady -in the case, and I deem it my duty to assist you."</p> -<p class="pnext">I was at first astonished by the man's ready -compliance, but when I saw that he was sincere, I thanked -him to the best of my power. "Be sure I shall not -forget this service, Captain Steen," said I; "and if -it is ever in my power to serve you in return, you may -count on me. You will take some refreshment before -you go;" and, calling Nicol, I bade him see to the -stranger's wants.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meantime it behooved me to be up and doing if I -was to sail that night. I knew not what to think of -the news I had heard, for, as I thought upon the -matter, it seemed so incredible that aught could have gone -wrong that I began to set it all down to mere loneliness -and a girl's humours. The strangeness of the -letter I explained with all the sophistry of care. She -did not wish to disturb me and bring me home before -my time. This was what she meant when she said -she was not free to write her will. But at the end -her desolateness had overmastered her, and she had -finished with a piteous appeal. Even so I began to -reason, and this casuistry put me in a more hopeful -frame of mind. It was right that I should go home, -but when I got there I should find no cause for fear. -But there was much to be done in the town and the -college ere I could take my departure. So when I had -paid all the monies that I owed, and bidden farewell -to all my friends (among whom Sir William Crichtoun -and Master Quellinus were greatly affected), I -returned to my lodgings. There I found Nicol in great -glee, preparing my baggage. He was whistling the -"Lawlands of Holland," and every now and then he -would stop to address himself. "Ye're gaun -hame," I heard him saying, "ye're gaun hame to the -hills and the bonny water o' Tweed, and guid kindly -Scots folk, after thae frostit Hollanders, and fine tasty -parritsh and honest yill after the abominable meats and -drinks o' this stawsome hole. And ye'd better watch -your steps, Nicol Plenderleith, my man, I'm tellin' -ye, and keep a calm sough, for there's a heap o' wark -to be dune, and some o' it geyan wanchancy."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good advice, Nicol," said I, breaking in upon -him; "see that you keep to it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is that you, Maister John? Ye'll be clean high -aboot gaun back. Ye'll hae seen a' that's to be seen -here, for after a' it's no a great place. And ye maun -mind and put a bottle o' French brandy in your -valise, or you'll be awfu' oot on the sea. I think it's -likely to be coorse on the water."</p> -<p class="pnext">I took my servant's advice, and when all was done -to my liking, I walked down to the college gate for -one last look at the place. I was in a strange -temper—partly glad, partly sad—and wholly excited. When -I looked on the grey, peaceful walls, breathing -learning and repose, and thought of the wise men who had -lived there, and the great books that had been written, -and the high thoughts that had been born, I felt a -keen pang of regret. For there was at all times in -me much of the scholar's spirit, and I doubted -whether it had not been better for me, better for all, -had I chosen the life of study. I reflected how little -my life would lie now in cloisters and lecture halls, -in what difficulties I would soon be plunged and what -troublous waters I might be cast upon. My own -land was in a ferment, with every man's hand against -his brother; my love might be in danger; of a surety -it looked as if henceforward quiet and gentleness -might be to seek in my life. I own that I looked -forward to it without shrinking—nay, with a certain -hopeful anticipation; but I confess also that I looked -at the past and all that I was leaving with a certain -regret. Indeed, I was born between two stools; for, -while I could never be content to stay at home and -spend my days among books, on the other hand, the -life of unlettered action was repugnant. Had it been -possible, I should have gladly dwelt among wars and -tumults with men who cared not for these things -alone, and could return, when all violence was at an -end, to books and study with a cheerful heart. But -no man has the making of the world, and he must -even fit himself to it as he finds it. Nor do I think -it altogether evil to have many desires and even many -regrets, for it keeps a man's spirit active, and urges -him on to valiant effort. Of this I am sure, that -contentment is the meanest of the virtues.</p> -<p class="pnext">As I left the place there was a cool, grey haze over -all the gardens and towers—mellow and soft and lucid. -But to the north, where lay the sea, there was a -broken sky, blue, with fitful clouds passing athwart. -It seemed, as it were, the emblem of my life—the -tranquil and the unsettled. Yet in the broken sky there -was a promise of sunshine and brilliance, which was -not in the even grey; and this heartened me.</p> -<p class="pnext">So at four that evening we mounted horse and rode -forth by the way we had come, and ere the hour of -eleven were on the wharf at Rotterdam, sniffing the -distant smell of the sea.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="an-account-of-my-home-coming">CHAPTER IX</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">AN ACCOUNT OF MY HOME-COMING</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Captain Steen met me on deck and greeted me -heartily. "There's a brisk wind from the sou'-east," -said he, "which should speed us well;" and soon, -amid creaking of cordage and flapping of sails, we -dropped down the estuary and set our face sea-wards. -There was something of a squall of rain which beat -on us till we were fairly beyond the Dutch coast; -but after that it drew down to the west, and when I -awoke the next morn, the sky was blue and sunshiny, -and the soft south wind whistled gaily in the rigging.</p> -<p class="pnext">Of my voyage home I do not purpose to tell at -length. On it I met with none of the mishaps which -I had encountered before, so the brandy was wholly -needless. Indeed, I found the greatest pleasure in -the journey; the motion of the ship gave me delight; -and it was fine to watch the great, heaving deserts -before and behind, when the sun beat on them at -mid-day, or lay along them in lines of gold and crimson -at the darkening. The captain I found a friendly, -talkative man, and from him I had much news of the -state of the land whither I was returning. Nor was -it of such a sort as to elate me, for it seemed as if, in -the short time I had been away, things had taken many -steps to the devil. The truth of the matter, I fancy, -was that when I left Tweeddale I was little more than -a boy, with a boy's interests, but that now I had grown -to some measure of manhood and serious reflection.</p> -<p class="pnext">But my time during the days of our sailing was in -the main taken up with thoughts of Marjory. The -word I had got still rankled in my mind, and I -puzzled my brain with a thousand guesses as to its -purport. But as the hours passed this thought grew less -vexatious, for was not I on my way home, to see my -love once more, to help her in perplexity, and, by -God's help, to leave her side never again? So anxiety -was changed by degrees to delight at the expectation -of meeting her, and, as I leaned over the vessel's edge -and looked at the foam curling back from the prow, I -had many pleasing images in my fancy. I would -soon be in Tweeddale again, and have Scrape and -Dollar Law and Caerdon before my eyes, and hear the -sing-song of Tweed running through the meadows. -I thought of golden afternoons in the woods of -Dawyck, or the holms of Lyne, of how the yellow -light used to make the pools glow, and the humming -of bees was mingled with the cry of snipe and the -song of linnet. As I walked the deck there were -many pictures of like nature before me. I thought of -the winter expeditions at Barns, when I went out -in the early morning to the snow-clad hills with my -gun, with Jean Morran's dinner of cakes and beef -tightly packed in my pocket; and how I was wont to -come in at the evening, numb and frozen, with maybe -a dozen white hares and duck over my shoulder, to -the great fire-lit hall and supper. Every thought of -home made it doubly dear to me. And more than all -else, there was my lady awaiting me, looking for the -sight of my horse's head at the long avenue of -Dawyck. An old catch, which wandering packmen -used to sing, and which they called "The North -Countree," ran in my head; and, as I looked over the -vessel's bowsprit, I found myself humming:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"There's an eye that ever weeps, and a fair face will be fain</div> -<div class="line">When I ride through Annan Water wi' my bonny bands again."</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">Then I fell to thinking of the house of Barns, and -of the many things which I should do were I home. -There was much need of change in the rooms, which -had scarce been touched for years. Also I figured to -myself the study I should make, and the books which -were to fill it. Then out of doors there was need of -planting on the hillsides and thinning in the -haughlands; and I swore I should have a new cauld made -in Tweed, above the island, for the sake of the -fishing. All this and more should I do "when I rode -through Annan Water wi' my bonny bands again."</p> -<p class="pnext">We left Rotterdam on the evening of one day, and -sailed throughout the day following; and since we -had a fair wind and a stout ship, about noon on the -next we rounded the Bass and entered the Forth. I -was filled with great gladness to see my native land -once more, and as for my servant, I could scarce -prevail upon him to keep from flinging his hat into -the sea or climbing to the masthead in the excess of -his delight. The blue Lomonds of Fife, the long ridge -of the Lammermoors, and the great battlements of the -Pentlands were to me like honey in the mouth, so long -had I been used to flat lands. And beyond them I saw -the line of the Moorfoots, ending in Dundreich, which -is a hill not five miles from the town of Peebles.</p> -<p class="pnext">About three of the clock we entered Leith Roads -and awaited the signals for admission. "The -Seamaw lies at the wast harbour for usual," said the -captain, "but there's something wrong thereaways the -day, so we maun e'en run into the east." So, soon -amid a throng of barques at anchor and small boats -moving to and fro among them, we steered our course, -and in a very little lay against the grey, sea-washed -walls of the east quay. There we landed, after -bidding farewell to the captain; and as my feet touched -the well-worn cobblestones, and I smelt the smell of -tar and herrings, I knew my own land. The broad -twang of the fishermen, the shrill yatter of the -fishwives, the look of the black, red-tiled houses, and the -spires of the kirks—all was so Scots that it went -straight to my heart, and it was with a cheerful spirit -that, followed by my servant, I made for the inn of <em class="italics">The -Three Herrings</em>, where I purposed to sleep the night -ere I rode to Tweeddale on the morrow. So much -for man's devices: this was to be to me the last day -of quiet life for many months. But as I briskly -strode along the Harbour Walk, little I foresaw of the -dangers and troubles which awaited my coming.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-pier-o-leith">BOOK III—THE HILLMEN</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">CHAPTER I</p> -<div class="center medium vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center medium pfirst">THE PIER O' LEITH</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">When I came to the door of <em class="italics">The Three Herrings</em>, -I presented an imposing sight, with Nicol at my side -and two sailors at my back with my baggage. The -landlord, who was taking the afternoon air against the -wall, made me a civil greeting, and placed his hostel -at my service, opining that I was a stranger of -consequence just come from abroad. So bidding my -servant settle with the men, I followed my host upstairs -to a room where a fire was burning and some refreshment -laid on the table. From below came the clink -of glasses and the snatch of a song. The sun poured -in at the open window; a girl in the street was -singing the "Fishwives' Rant"; and all the world seemed -in gay spirits.</p> -<p class="pnext">An excellent supper was brought, on which I fell -like a hawk, for the sea air had sharpened my hunger, -and landward dishes are better than the meat of a -ship. I bade the landlord let no one enter save my -servant, for that I desired to be alone. Then I fell -to summing up my monies, and various calculations -of a like nature, which it was proper to make on my -return; and, finally, I pushed away my chair from -the table, and, filling my glass, gave myself up to -pleasing fancies.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was near the darkening, as I saw from the -window which opened on the back yard, and which at -that hour was filled with the red glow of sunset. The -chimneys on the tall houses rose like spikes into the -still air, and somewhere in the place a bell was ringing -for I know not what. Below in the room I heard -many mingled voices, and a high imperious tone as of -one accustomed to authority. I guessed that some -body of soldiers was filling the tap-room. I was in a -fine, contented frame of mind, well pleased with the -present, and looking cheerfully forward to the -morrow. By and by I began to wish for Nicol's -presence and to wonder at his long absence.</p> -<p class="pnext">I was just approaching a state of irritation with my -servant when the door was softly opened and the -defaulter appeared. His face struck me with surprise, -for, whereas for usual it was merry and careless, it -was now filled with grave concernment. He closed -the latch quietly behind him, and then slipped the -bolt, locked the door, and pocketed the key.</p> -<p class="pnext">I stared in silent amazement.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If it comes to the warst," he said, "we can -fecht for 't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What fooling is this?" said I. "Tell me at -once, and have done with it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's nae fooling, Laird, as ye'll be finding oot. -Sit still, for I've a long story to tell ye." And, -having first listened for a noise from below, he began -his news, while I listened in much trepidation.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I paid the men as ye tellt me, and syne I gaed -doun to my cousin's shop i' the Rope-Walk, just to -speir if they were a' weel; and then I cam' back to -the inn, thinking to get a bit quiet gless a' by mysel' -i' the chimley corner. But when I gaed into the -room I fand it filled wi' muckle sodger folk, drinking -and sweering like deevils. And the first man I clappit -eyes on was yin Jock Cadder, whae was yince a freend -o' mine, so sitting doun aside Jock, I fell into crack.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel, I hadna been there mony meenutes when I -hears a loud voice frae the ither end calling for a -song. And anither voice answered, no sae loud, but -weak and thin. I jumpit up in my seat, for the -voices were weel kenned to me. And there I saw at -the ither end o' the table your wanchancy cousin the -Captain, sitting glowrin' wi' his muckle een and -playing wi' his gless. And aside him was nae ither than -Maister Michael Veitch, him o' Dawyck, but no like -what he used to be, but a' red aboot the een, and fosy -aboot the face, like a man that's ower fond o' the -bottle."</p> -<p class="pnext">My heart leaped with a sudden terror at the news. -What on earth was Marjory's brother doing on the -Pier o' Leith in the company of my most bitter foe? -A great sense of coming ill hung over me as Nicol -went on.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel, I was astonished; and speaking quiet in -Jock Cadder's ear, I asks him what it meant, and -what the twae were daein' here. And this is what I -heard from him, for Jock never jaloused I had aught -to dae wi' ye, but thocht I was aye the same auld -hide-i'-the-heather I had been afore. 'When our -Captain cam back frae furrin pairts,' says he, 'he -gangs off to Tweeddale, your ain countryside, for it -seems there's a lassie there he's awfu' fond o'. She's -the dochter o' auld Veitch o' Dawyck, rich, and, by -a' accoont, terrible bonny. But she's trysted to the -Captain's cousin, Burnet o' Barns, whae has been in -Holland for mair nor a year. It's weel kenned that -Maister Gilbert Burnet, when he gets a ploy intil his -heid, never stops till he wins his purpose; so he sets -himsel' to mak love to the lass. And he couldna -dae this unless he were weel in favour wi' her brother -Michael, so he begins by winnin' him ower to his -side. Noo Michael Veitch (that's him up there) -was aye uncommon fond o' wine and yill o' a' description, -so the Captain leads him on and on by drinkin' -wi' him at a' times, till noo the man is fair helpless. -But this wasna a', for if John Burnet cam hame -and fund this gaun on, he wad mak a rare camsteery, -and, by a' accoont, he's a stieve dour chiel. So -Maister Gilbert, whae's high in favour wi' the Privy -Council, gangs and tells them o' some daeings o' his -cousin's abroad, o' some hobnobbing and plotting wi' -rebels and outlawed folk, and sending treasonable -letters to this land under his name; so he gets a -warrant for the lad's arrest as sune as he sets foot on Scots -earth—and a'body kens what that means, that he'll no -be troubled muckle mair wi' his cousin in this warld. -That's the reason we're doun here the day. We've -had word that he's coming ower i' the Seamaw, whilk -lies at the wast harbour. We've been sending doun -word thae last 'oors, but she's no in there yet, and -'ill no be noo till the morn.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"That was what Jock Cadder tellt me, and I warrant -I was in a fine fricht. It was clear the Captain -had nae mind o' me, for he lookit twae or three times -my way, and never changed his face. I slips oot the -door wi'oot being noticed, and cam up here wi' a' -speed to tell ye the tale. So, Laird, ye're in a close -hole, and there's just some auld wooden planking -atween you and the Tolbooth."</p> -<p class="pnext">I cared little for the Tolbooth or anything else. -One thing, and one alone, claimed all my attention. -My whole soul was filled with a terror of anxiety, of -mad jealousy, and desperate fear for my lady's sake. -This was the cause of the letter, this the cause of her -silence. I ground my teeth in helpless fury, and -could have found it in my heart to rush down to -Gilbert and choke the life in his throat. I was so -appalled by the monstrousness of the thing that I could -scarce think. My own danger was nothing, but that -Marjory should be the sport of ruffians—the thing -overpowered me. It was too fearsome, too monstrous.</p> -<p class="pnext">One thing was clear—that I must go to her at -once. If Gilbert Burnet was on the Pier o' Leith, -Marjory Veitch at Dawyck would be quit of his -company. Were I once there I could see her, and, -perchance, save her. I cannot write down my full -trepidation. My fingers clutched at my coat, and I could -scarce keep my teeth from chattering. It was no -fright that did it, but an awful sickening anxiety -preying on my vitals. But with an effort I choked down -my unrest, and centred all my thoughts on the present. -Were I only in Tweeddale I might yet find a way -out of the trouble. But woe's me for the change in -my prospects! I had come home thinking in the -pride of my heart to be welcomed by all and to cut a -great figure in my own countryside; and lo, I found -myself an outlawed man, whose love was in peril, -and whose own craig was none so sure. The sudden -reversion all but turned my wits.</p> -<p class="pnext">I walked to the window and looked down. The -night was now dark, but below a glimmer from the -taproom window lit the ground. It was a court -paved with cobblestones from the beach, where stood -one or two waggons, and at one end of which were -the doors of a stable. Beyond that a sloping roof led -to a high wall, at the back of which I guessed was a -little wynd. Once I were there I might find my way -through the back parts of Leith to the country, and -borrow a horse and ride to Tweeddale. But all was -hazardous and uncertain, and it seemed as if my -chance of safety was small indeed. I could but try, -and if I must perish, why then so it was fated to be.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nicol," said I, "bide here the night to keep off -suspicion, and come on as soon as you can, for the -days have come when I shall have much need of you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's but ae thing to be dune, to tak to the -hills, and if ye gang onywhere from the Cheviots to -the Kells, Nicol Plenderleith 'ill be wi' ye, and ye -need hae nae fear. I ken the hills as weel as auld -Sawtan their maister himsel'. I'll e'en bide here, and -if ye ever win to Dawyck, I'll no be lang ahint ye. -Oh, if I could only gang wi' ye! But, by God, if -ye suffer aught, there'll be some o' His Majesty's -dragoons that'll dree their wierd." My servant spoke -fiercely, and I was much affected at the tenderness -for me which it betokened.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If I never see you again, Nicol, you'll watch over -Marjory? Swear, man, swear by all that's sacred that -you'll do my bidding."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I swear by the Lord God Almighty that if ye -come to ony scaith, I'll send the man that did it to -Muckle Hell, and I'll see that nae ill comes ower -Mistress Marjory. Keep an easy mind, Laird; I'll -be as guid as my word."</p> -<p class="pnext">Without more ado I opened the window and looked -out. My servant's talk of taking to the hills seemed -an over-soon recourse to desperate remedies. Could -I but remove my sweetheart from the clutches of my -rival, I trusted to prove my innocence and clear -myself in the sight of all. So my thoughts were less -despairing than Nicol's, and I embarked on my -enterprise with good heart. I saw the ground like a pit -of darkness lie stark beneath me. Very carefully I -dropped, and, falling on my feet on the cobblestones, -made such a clangour beneath the very taproom -window that I thought the soldiers would have been out -to grip me. As it was, I heard men rise and come -to the window; and, crouching far into the lee of the -sill, I heard them talk with one another. "Tut, tut, -Jock," I heard one say, "it is nothing but a drunken -cadger come to seek his horse. Let be and sit down -again." When all was quiet I stole softly over to -the other side, that I might scale the wall and reach -the wynd, for I dare not pass through the open close -into the Harbour Walk lest I should be spied and -questioned by the soldiers who were ever lounging -about.</p> -<p class="pnext">But some fortunate impulse led me to open the -stable door. A feebly-burning lantern hung on a peg, -and there came from the stalls the noise of horses -champing corn. They were the raw-boned hacks of -the soldiers, sorry beasts, for the increase of the -military in the land had led to a dearth of horses. But -there was one noble animal at the right, slim of leg -and deep of chest, with a head as shapely as a maiden's. -I rushed hotly forward, for at the first glance -I had known it for my own mare Maisie, the best in -all Tweeddale. A fine anger took me again to think -that my cousin had taken my steed for his own -mount. I had sent it back to Barns, and, forsooth, -he must have taken it thence in spite of the vigilant -Tam Todd. But I was also glad, for I knew that -once I had Maisie forth of the yard, and were on her -back, and she on the highway, no animal ever foaled -could come up with her. So I gave up all my designs -on the wall, and fell to thinking how best I could get -into the Harbour Walk.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was but one way, and it was only a chance. -But for me it was neck or nothing, my love or a tow -in the Grassmarket; so I tossed my plumed hat, my -sword, and my embroidered coat on a heap of hay, tore -open my shirt at the neck, put a piece of straw -between my lips, and soon was a very tolerable presentment -of an ostler or farrier of some kind. So taking -Maisie's bridle—and at my touch she thrilled so that -I saw she had not forgotten me—I led her boldly across -the court, straddling in my walk to counterfeit some -fellow whose work was with horses. My heart beat -wildly as I went below the archway and confronted -the knots of soldiers, who, sitting on a low bench or -leaning against the wall, were engaged in loud talk -and wrangling.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ho, you, fellow, where are you going with the -Captain's horse?" cried one. I knew by his tone -that the man was a Southron, so I had little fear of -detection.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm gaun to tak it to the smiddy," said I, in my -broadest speech. "The Captain sent doun word to -my maister, Robin Rattle, in the Flesh Wynd, that -the beast was to be ta'en doun and shod new, for she -was gaun far the neist day. So I cam up to bring it."</p> -<p class="pnext">The man looked satisfied, but a question suggested -itself to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How knew you the one, if you were never here before?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"It was the best beast i' the place," I said simply; -and this so put his mind at rest that, with a gratuitous -curse, he turned round, and I was suffered to go -on unmolested.</p> -<p class="pnext">Down the Harbour Walk I led her, for I dared not -mount lest some stray trooper recognised the mare and -sought to interrogate me. Very quietly and circumspectly -I went, imitating a stableman by my walk and -carriage as I best knew how, till in ten minutes I -came to the end, and, turning up the Fisherrow, came -into Leith Walk and the borders of Edinburgh.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="how-i-rode-to-the-south">CHAPTER II</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">HOW I RODE TO THE SOUTH</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The night was full of wind, light spring airs, -which rustled and whistled down every street and -brought a promise of the hills and the green country. -The stars winked and sparkled above me, but I had -no mind to them or aught else save a grey house in a -wood, and a girl sitting there with a heavy heart. -'Faith, my own was heavy enough as I led Maisie -through the West Vennel, shunning all but the darkest -streets, for I knew not when I might be challenged -and recognised, losing my way often, but nearing -always to the outskirts of the town. Children brawled -on the pavement, lights twinkled from window and -doorway, the smell of supper came out of chink and -cranny. But such things were not for me, and soon -I was past all, and near the hamlet of Liberton and -the highway to Tweeddale.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now there was safety for me to mount, and it was -blessed to feel the life between my knees and the -touch of my mare's neck. By good luck I had found -her saddled and bridled, as if some careless, rascally -groom had left her untouched since her arrival. But -I would have cared little had there been no equipment -save a bridle-rope. I could guide a horse on the -darkest night by the sway of my body, and it was -not for nothing that I had scrambled bareback about -the hills of Barns. Maisie took the road with long, -supple strides, as light and graceful as a bird. The -big mass of Pentland loomed black before me; then -in a little it fell over to the right as we advanced on -our way. The little wayside cottages went past like -so many beehives; through hamlet and village we -clattered, waking the echoes of the place, but -tarrying not a moment, for the mare was mettlesome, and -the rider had the best cause in the world for his speed. -Now this errand which seems so light, was, in truth, -the hardest and most perilous that could be found. -For you are to remember that I was a man proscribed -and all but outlawed, that any chance wayfarer might -arrest me; and since in those troubled times any rider -was suspected, what was a man to say if he saw one -dressed in gentleman's apparel, riding a blood horse, -coatless and hatless? Then, more, all the way to -Peebles lay through dangerous land, for it was the road -to the southwest and the Whigs of Galloway, and, -since the Pentland Rising, that part had been none of -the quietest. Also it was my own country, where I -was a well-kenned man, known to near everyone, so -what might have been my safety in other times, was -my danger in these. This, too, was the road which -my cousin Gilbert had travelled from Barns, and well -watched it was like to be if Gilbert had aught to do -with the matter. But the motion of my mare was so -free, the air so fine, the night so fair, and my own -heart so passionate, that I declare I had forgotten all -about danger, and would have ridden down the High -Street of Edinburgh, if need had been, in my great -absence of mind.</p> -<p class="pnext">I was recalled to my senses by a sudden warning. -A man on horseback sprang out from the shelter of a -plantation, and gripped my bridle. I saw by the -starlight the gleam of a pistol-barrel in his hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Stop, man, stop! there's nae sic great hurry. -You and me 'ill hae some words. What hae ye in -your pouches?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I was unarmed, and the footpad before me -was a man of considerable stature and girth. I had -some remnants of sense left in me, and I foresaw that -if I closed with him, besides the possibility of getting -a bullet in my heart, the contest would take much -time, and would have an uncertain ending. I was -fairly at my wit's end what with hurry and vexation, -when the thought struck me that the law and military -which I dreaded, were also the terror of such men as -this. I made up my mind to throw myself on his -mercy. Forbye, being a south-country man, the -odds were great that my name would be known to him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have no money," I said, "for I came off this -night hot-speed, with a regiment of dragoons waiting -behind me. I am the Laird of Barns, in Tweeddale, -and this day an outlaw and a masterless man. So I -pray you not to detain me, for there's nothing on me -worth the picking. I have not a groat of silver, and, -as you see, I ride in my shirt."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Are ye the Laird o' Barns?" said the man, staring. -"Man, I never kent it or I wadna hae been sae -unceevil as to stop ye. Be sure that I'm wi' ye, and -sae are a' guid fellows that likena thae langnebbit -dragoons and thae meddlesome brocks o' lawyers in -Embro. Gang your ways for me. But stop, ye've -nae airms. This 'ill never dae. Tak yin o' my -pistols, for I'll never miss it. And see, gin ye tak -my advice and gin ye're gaun to Barns, gang off the -Peebles road at Leadburn, and haud doun by the -Brochtoun and Newlands ways, for a' the way atween -Leadburn and Peebles is hotchin' wi' sodgers and -what-ye-may-ca'-thems. Guid e'en to ye, and a safe -journey." The man rode off and almost instantly -was lost to my sight; but his act gave me assurance -that there was still some good left in the world, -though in the most unlikely places.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now I saw before me the black woods of -Rosslyn and Hawthornden, and in the near distance -the roofs of the clachan of Penicuik. There I knew -danger would await me, so taking a random turning -to the right, I struck towards the hills in the direction -of Glencorse. The place was rough and moory, and -full of runlets of water, but Maisie was well used to -such land, for it was no worse than the haughs of -Manor, and level turf compared with the brow of -the Deid Wife or the shoulder of Scrape. So in a -little, when the lights of Penicuik were well on the -left, I came to the Hawes Burn, which passes -the Inn of Leadburn, and tracking it downward, -came to the bald white house which does duty for a -hostel.</p> -<p class="pnext">I dared not enter, though I was wofully thirsty, -but kept straight on to the crossroads where the two -paths to Tweeddale part asunder. One—the way -by which I had gone when I set out on my travels—goes -over the moor and down by the springs of the -Eddleston Water, through the village of that name, -and thence down the vale to Peebles. The other, -longer and more circuitous, cuts straight over the -rough moorlands to the little village of Newlands, -then over much wild country to Kirkurd, and the -high hills which hem in the hamlet of Broughton, -whence it is but five miles to the house of Dawyck. -It is a road which I have always hated as being dismal -and wild beyond any of my knowledge, but now I -was glad to be on it, for every step brought me -nearer to my love.</p> -<p class="pnext">The country, in the main, is desolate heather and -bog, with here and there a white cot-house where -dwells a shepherd. Of late I hear that many trees -have been planted and the bogs are being drained, -but at the time I speak of, all was still in its virginal -wildness. The road, by a good chance, is dry and -easy to find, else there had been difficulties awaiting -me. The night was clear and sharp, and a bright -moon made the path as plain as daylight. I found -time to curse that moon whenever I neared human -dwellings, and to bless it heartily when I was in the -desert morasses again.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a little I saw a hilltop which, by its broad, flat -shape I knew for the Black Mount, which lies above -the village of Dolphinton on the way to the west -country. This is a landmark of great note in the -countryside, and now I could guess my whereabouts. -I made out that I must be scarce two miles from the -jumble of houses lining the highway which is named -Kirkurd, at which spot the road fords the deep, sullen -stream of Tarth. Now this same Tarth a little way -down flows into the Lyne, which enters Tweed almost -opposite the house of Barns. At other times I had -ridden the path down its side, for it is many miles the -shorter way. But I knew well that Barns would be -watched like the courtyard of the Parliament House, -and I durst not for my life venture near it. I deemed -it unprofitable to run the risk of capture for the sake -of an hour or two saved. So after passing Kirkurd, -I held straight on over the black moors which lie -towards the watershed of the Broughton burn.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now by good luck I had dismounted just after the -bridge and buckled Maisie's girth tight and eased the -saddle, for I suspected that now I was entering the -more dangerous country. The issue showed that I had -guessed rightly, for just at the sharp turn of the road -over the Hell's Cleuch burn, I came near to my end. -I was riding carelessly at a rapid pace through the -thick wood of pines which cloaks the turn, when -suddenly, ere ever I knew, I was into the middle of -a detachment of horse riding leisurely in the sime -direction.</p> -<p class="pnext">I do not well know how I acted, save that my pistol -went off in the mellay, and I saw a man clap his hand -to his shoulder in a vast hurry and swear freely. -Half a dozen hands were stretched to my bridle, -half a dozen pistols covered me at once. Now I had -no leave to use my hands, my pistol I had fired, so -I was wholly at their mercy. What happened I can -only guess, for I was in too great a flurry to have any -clear remembrance of the thing. I was conscious of -striking one man fiercely on the cheek with my empty -pistol, and of kicking another on the shins with all -my might. But my sudden appearance had startled -the horses so thoroughly that all the soldiers' time -was taken up in curbing them, so they had no leisure -to take aim at me. A dozen shots cracked around -me, all going high into the air, and in a second I was -through them and on the highroad beyond, some -twenty paces in advance.</p> -<p class="pnext">But by this time they were getting their horses -under, and I felt that there was no time to be lost if -I wished to see many more days on the earth. I patted -Maisie's neck, which to a beast of her spirit was -the best encouragement, and set myself to a race for -life. I kicked off my great boots to ease her, and -then, leaning forward, began the trial of speed. -Behind me I heard shouting and the beat of horses -getting into their stride. Before me was the long, thin -highway, and black hills, and endless peatmosses. I -had half a mind to leave the road and ride for the hills, -where I made sure no man of them could ever follow -me. But I reflected that this would shut for me the -way to Dawyck, and I should have to lie hid in these -regions for weeks, for when my path was once seen -they would guard it more closely. My only chance -was to outstrip them and so keep the country open -before me.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now began the most terrible and desperate race -that I was ever engaged in. I had tried my cousin -Gilbert and beaten him on the side of Scrape; now -his men were taking revenge for that episode in good -earnest. At this time I was no more than out of -pistol shot, and though I kept this interval, and all -their balls fell short, it was an unpleasing thing to -be riding with shots behind you, any one of which, -for all you knew, might lodge in your spine. So I -strained every nerve to increase the distance.</p> -<p class="pnext">Maisie responded gallantly to my call. I felt her -long, supple swing below me and the gathering of her -limbs. I began to glory in the exhilaration of the -thing, and my spirits rose at a bound. The keen, cool -air blew about my face, the moonlight danced on the -mare's neck, and the way in front was a long strip of -light. Sometimes I could not tell whether or not I -was dreaming. Sometimes I thought I was back in -Holland asleep in the garden, and that all this shifting -pageant of light and scenery, these cries and shots -behind, and this long, measured fall of hooves were -but the process of a dream. I experienced the most -acute enjoyment, for all heavy cares for the future -were driven away by the excitement of the chase. It -was glorious, I thought, and I cared not a straw for -the loss of place and fortune if the free life of the -open air and the hills was to be mine. It was war -to the hilt between my cousin and myself; both had -flung away the scabbards; but I would master him -yet and show him which was the better man. He -should learn that John Burnet was never so strong as -when he was most sorely pressed.</p> -<p class="pnext">But this braggadocio exhilaration soon passed, and -in its place came some measure of forethought. I -reflected that though I might distance my pursuers and -win to Dawyck, I would surely be tracked, and so -bring misfortune on my mistress and myself. I had -as yet no clear plans for the future. I had already all -but burned my boats, for this night's work was like -to get me into trouble on its own account. The wild -notion of fleeing to the hills and trusting to God for -the rest commended itself to me more and more. -But one thing I must do—abide at Dawyck till such -time as Nicol should be able to join me. I had the -most perfect trust in him; I had proved him a hundred -times, and I knew well that if mortal man could do -aught to mend my fortunes, he could do it. So with -this thought I matured a plan for the present. I must -put forth all my speed and win clean away from my -pursuers. Now at Broughton there was an inn, -where abode an honest man, one Joshua Watson, who -had oft had dealings with me in the past. He was an -old retainer of my house, and I knew that he would -see his roof and gear in a blaze before his eyes ere he -would see any harm come to a laird of Barns. To -him I purposed to go and hide till the dragoons had -passed. They had not recognised me, I knew, for -they were not men of our countryside; and if left to -themselves, would keep the highway to Moffat, and -have never a thought of turning aside into Tweeddale.</p> -<p class="pnext">I whispered something to Maisie, and the good -mare set herself to the task. She was still unjaded, -for I had used her to long wanderings, and she had -not forgotten the lesson. I listened to her steady, -rhythmical breath and the measured beat of her -hooves, and I thanked Heaven that I had chanced on -her. At first they were maybe an eighth of a mile -behind. Soon the distance increased, little by little at -first, then by more and more as my mare got into her -long gallop and their coarse beasts began to tire. We -passed the little lonely cot of Lochurd, nestling under -great green hills where the sheep bleat and the plovers -cry alway. Then on by the lonely bog where men -came once to dig marl and left a monstrous wide -pit, filled with black water and with no bottom. -I paused for a second to let Maisie drink from a -burn which comes down from the Mount Hill. Soon -we were at the turning where the road to Biggar and -the West goes off from the highway. Here I stopped -to listen for a moment. Far off and faint I heard the -noise of my pursuers, and judged they were near a -mile distant. Then off again; and now the road -inclines downward, and as one rises over the crest of -brae, which the shepherds call the Ruchill End, there -bursts on the sight all the vast circle of hills, crowded -and piled together, which marks the course of Tweed. -Down the little glen of Broughton I rode, while the -burn made music by the highway, and it was hard to -think that death awaited a little behind. Soon the -moors sank into fields, trees and cottages appeared, -a great stone mill rose by the water, and I clattered -into the village of Broughton.</p> -<p class="pnext">The place was asleep, and, as I drew up at the inn, -but one light was apparent. I hammered rudely at -the door till the landlord came, sleepy and yawning, -and bearing a candle in his hand. At the sight of me -he started, for my danger was known over all -Tweeddale. In a few words I told him of my pursuit and -my request. He was a man of sparing speech, and, -saying nothing, he led me to the barn and showed me -a hole in a great bank of straw. Maisie he took to -the stable. "Ha'e nae fear," he said. "Trust -me, I'll settle the hash o' thae gentry."</p> -<p class="pnext">Sure enough, I had not been two minutes in the -place when I heard voices and the sound of horses, -and creeping to the narrow, unglazed window, saw -the dragoons draw up at the inn-door. Much -shouting brought down the landlord, who made a great -show of weariness, and looked like one just aroused -from sleep.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Heard you or saw you any man pass on horseback -about five minutes syne?" they asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I daresay I did," said he. "At ony rate, I -heard the sound o' a horse, and it's verra likely it was -on the Moffat road. There's a hantle o' folk pass by -here at a' 'oors."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye're sure he didna come in here?" they said -again. "We'll search the house to see."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel," said the landlord, "ye can dae as ye -like, but it seems a gey fule's errand. I tell ye it's -lang past midnight, and we've a' been asleep here, -and naebody could hae gotten in unless I had opened -the door, for I hae a' the keys. But come and look, -gentlemen, and I'll fetch ye some yill."</p> -<p class="pnext">They drank the ale, and then seemed to think -better of their purpose, for they remounted. "He'll -be aff to the hills at the heid o' Tweed," they said. -"He would never, gin he had ony sense, gang doun -Tweeddale, where there's nae hiding for man or -beast." So with many wanton oaths they set off -again at a lazy gallop.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-house-of-dawyck">CHAPTER III</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE HOUSE OF DAWYCK</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I knew well that I had little time to lose, and that -what must be done must be done quickly. So as -soon as the tails of them were round the hillside, I -came out from my hiding-place and mounted Maisie -once more. I thanked the landlord, and with a cry -that I would remember him if I ever got my affairs -righted again, I turned sharply through the burn and -down the path to Peebles. It was touch or miss with -me, for it was unlikely that the highway between the -west country and the vale of Peebles would be freed -from the military.</p> -<p class="pnext">Yet freed it was. It may have been that the folk -of Tweedside were little caring about any religion, -and most unlike the dour carles of the Westlands, or -it may have been that they were not yet stirring. At -any rate I passed unmolested. I struck straight for -the ridge of Dreva, and rounding it, faced the long -valley of Tweed, with Rachan woods and Drummelzier -haughs and the level lands of Stobo. Far down lay -the forest of Dawyck, black as ink on the steep -hillside. Down by the Tweed I rode, picking my way -very carefully among the marshes, and guarding the -deep black moss-holes which yawned in the meadows. -Here daybreak came upon us, the first early gleam of -light, tingling in the east, and changing the lucent -darkness of the moonlit night to a shadowy grey -sunrise. Scrape raised his bald forehead above me, and -down the glen I had a glimpse of the jagged peaks of -the Shieldgreen Kips, showing sharp against the red -dawn. In a little I was at the avenue of Dawyck, -and rode up the green sward, with the birds twittering -in the coppice, eager to see my love.</p> -<p class="pnext">The house was dead as a stone wall, and no signs -of life came from within. But above me a lattice -was opened to catch the morning air. I leapt to the -ground and led Maisie round to the stables which I -knew so well. The place was deserted; no serving-man -was about; the stalls looked as if they had been -empty for ages. A great fear took my heart. -Marjory might be gone, taken I knew not whither. I fled -to the door as though the fiend were behind me, and -knocked clamorously for admittance. Far off in the -house, as it were miles away, I heard footsteps and -the opening of doors. They came nearer, and the -great house-door was opened cautiously as far as -possible without undoing the chain; and from within a -thin piping inquired my name and purpose.</p> -<p class="pnext">I knew the voice for the oldest serving-man who -dwelt in the house.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Open, you fool, open," I cried. "Do you not -know me? The Laird of Barns?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The chain was unlocked by a tremulous hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maister John, Maister John," cried the old -man, all but weeping. "Is't yoursel' at last? We've -had sair, sair need o' ye. Eh, but she'll be blithe to -see ye."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is your mistress well?" I cried with a great -anxiety.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel eneuch, the puir lass, but sair troubled in -mind. But that'll a' be bye and dune wi', noo that -ye're come back."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where is she? Quick, tell me," I asked in -my impatience.</p> -<p class="pnext">"In the oak room i' the lang passage," he said, as -quick as he could muster breath.</p> -<p class="pnext">I knew the place, and without more words I set -off across the hall, running and labouring hard to -keep my heart from bursting. Now at last I should -see the dear lass whom I had left. There was the -door, a little ajar, and the light of a sunbeam slanting -athwart it.</p> -<p class="pnext">I knocked feebly, for my excitement was great.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come," said that voice which I loved best in all -the world.</p> -<p class="pnext">I entered, and there, at the far end of the room, in -the old chair in which her father had always sat, -wearing the dark dress of velvet which became her -best, and with a great book in her lap, was Marjory.</p> -<p class="pnext">She sprang up at my entrance, and with a low cry -of joy ran to meet me. I took a step and had her -in my arms. My heart was beating in a mighty -tumult of joy, and when once my love's head lay on -my shoulder, I cared not a fig for all the ills in the -world. I cannot tell of that meeting; even now -my heart grows warm at the thought; but if such -moments be given to many men, there is little to -complain of in life.</p> -<p class="pnext">"O John," she cried, "I knew you would -come. I guessed that every footstep was yours, -coming to help us. For oh! there have been such -terrible times since you went away. How terrible I -cannot tell you," and her eyes filled with tears as -she looked in mine.</p> -<p class="pnext">So we sat down by the low window, holding each -other's hands, thinking scarce anything save the joy -of the other's presence. The primroses were starring -the grass without, and the blossom coming thick and -fast on the cherry trees. So glad a world it was that -it seemed as if all were vanity save a dwelling like the -Lotophagi in a paradise of idleness.</p> -<p class="pnext">But I quickly roused myself. It was no time for -making love when the enemy were even now at the -gates.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marjory, lass," I said, "tell me all that has -been done since I went away."</p> -<p class="pnext">And she told me, and a pitiful tale it was—that -which I had heard from Nicol, but more tragic and -sad. I heard of her brother's ruin, how the brave, -generous gentleman, with a head no better than a -weathercock, had gone down the stages to besotted -infamy. I heard of Gilbert's masterful knavery, of -his wooing at Dawyck, and how he had despoiled the -house of Barns. It seemed that he had spent days at -Dawyck in the company of Michael Veitch, putting -my poor Marjory to such a persecution that I could -scarce bide still at the hearing of it. He would -importune her night and day, now by gallantry and -now by threats. Then he would seek to win her -favour by acts of daring, such as he well knew how -to do. But mostly he trusted to the influence of her -brother, who was his aider and abetter in all things. -I marvelled how a gentleman of family could ever -sink so low as to be the servant of such cowardice. -But so it was, and my heart was sore for all the toils -which the poor girl had endured in that great, desolate -house, with no certain hope for the future. She -durst not write a letter, for she was spied on closely -by her tormentors, and if she had bade me return, -they well knew I would come with the greatest speed, -and so in knowing the time of my arrival, would lay -hands on me without trouble. The letter which -reached me was sealed under her brother's eyes and -the postscript was added with the greatest pains and -sent by Tam Todd, who sat at Barns in wrath and -impotence. Truly things had gone wrong with a -hearty good-will since I had ridden away.</p> -<p class="pnext">But the matter did not seem much better now that -I had returned. I was an outlawed man, with no -dwelling and scarce any friends, since the men of my -own house were either hostile or powerless to aid. -My estates were a prey to my enemies. I had naught -to trust to save my own good fortune and a tolerably -ready sword, and, to crown all, my love was in the -direst danger. If she abode at Dawyck the bitter -persecution must be renewed, and that the poor maid -should suffer this was more than I could endure. I -had no fear of her faithfulness, for I knew of old -her steadfast heart and brave spirit, but I feared my -cousin as I feared no other on earth. He cared not -a fig for the scruples of ordinary men, and he was -possessed of a most devilish cunning, before which I -felt powerless as a babe. Yet I doubtless wronged -him by suspicion, for, after all, he was a Burnet, and -fought openly as a man of honour should. But he -had a gang of marauding ruffians at his heels, and God -alone knew what might happen.</p> -<p class="pnext">At all events, I must wait till what time my servant -Nicol should arrive from Leith. I had no fear of his -failing, for he had the readiest wit that ever man had, -and I verily believe the longest legs. He should be at -Dawyck ere noonday, when he should advise me as to -my course. Nor was there any immediate danger -pressing, for so long as Gilbert abode at Leith he -could not come to Dawyck, and unless our schemes -grievously miscarried, he could not yet have been -apprised of my escape. Moreover, the soldiers to -whom I had given the slip the night before, could as -yet have no inkling either of my identity or my -present harbour. So for the meantime I was safe to -meditate on the future.</p> -<p class="pnext">Marjory, woman-like, was assured that now I had -come back her sorrows were at an end. She would -hear nothing of danger to be. "Now that you are -here, John," she would say, "I am afraid of nothing. -I do not care if Gilbert return and plague me a -thousandfold more; I shall well support it if I know that -you are in the land. It is for you I fear, for what -must you do save go to the hills and hide like the -hillmen in caves and peatbogs? It is surely a sad use -for your learning, sir."</p> -<p class="pnext">So the morning passed so quickly that I scarce -knew it. We went together to a little turret-room -facing the north and fronting the broad avenue which -all must pass who come to the house; and here we -waited for the coming of Nicol. I felt a fierce regret -as I looked away over the woods and meadows to the -little ridge of hills beyond which lay Barns, and saw -the fair landscape all bathed in spring sunshine. It -was so still and peaceful that I felt a great desire to -dwell there with Marjory in quiet, and have done -forever with brawling and warfare. I had come home -from the Low Countries with a longing for the plain -country life of Tweeddale, such as I had been bred -to. I was prepared in heart to get ready my -fishing-rods and see to my guns, and begin again my -long-loved sports. But harsh fate had decreed otherwise, -and I was to fare forth like a partridge on the -mountains, and taste the joys of the chase in a new manner. -But at the thought my spirits rose again. I would -love dearly to play a game of hide-and-go-seek with -my cousin Gilbert, and so long as I had my sword -and my wits about me, I did not fear. My one care -was Marjory, and this, in truth, was a sore one. I -cursed my cousin right heartily, and all his -belongings, and vowed, deep down in my heart, to -recompense him some day for all his doings.</p> -<p class="pnext">It is true that all this while it lay open to me to -brazen it out before His Majesty's Council, and try -to clear my name from guilt. But as the hours passed -this method grew more distasteful to me. There I -should be in a strange place among enemies and -scenes of which I knew nothing. Innocent though -I might be, it was more than likely that I should find -myself worsted. More, it seemed the gallanter thing -to contest the matter alone among the hills, a fight -between soldiers, with no solemn knaves to interfere. -So by this time I had all but resolved on the course -which my servant had first advised.</p> -<p class="pnext">About twelve of the clock we saw a long figure -slinking up the avenue, keeping well in the shade of -the trees, and looking warily on all sides. I knew -my man, and going down to the door, I set it open, -and waited for his coming. Nor did I wait long. -When he saw me he changed his walk for a trot, and -came up breathing hard, like a hound which has had -a long run. I led him into the dining-hall, and -Marjory prepared for him food and drink. Never a -word spoke he till he had satisfied his hunger. Then -he pushed back his chair, and looking sadly at my -lady, shook his head as though in dire confusion.</p> -<p class="pnext">"A bonny bigging, Maister John," he said, "but -ye'll sune hae to leave it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's a matter on which I have waited for your -coming," said I, "but I would hear how you fared -since I left you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I've nae guid news," he said sadly, "but such -as they are ye maun e'en hear them."</p> -<p class="pnext">And this was the tale he told.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="how-michael-veitch-met-his-end">CHAPTER IV</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">HOW MICHAEL VEITCH MET HIS END</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"When you had gone oot," began Nicol, "I just -waited till I heard your footsteps gang oot o' the yaird. -Syne I gaed dounstairs to the landlord, whae is a -decent, comfortable kind o' man wi' no muckle ill -aboot him. I telled him that my maister was terrible -unweel, and on no accoont maun be disturbit, but that -he maun hae the room to himsel' for the nicht. The -man was verra vexed to hear aboot ye. 'Sae young -a chiel,' says he, 'it's awfu'.' So I got my will, -and I kenned I wad be troubled by nae folk comin' -and speirin' aboot the place. There was nae reason -why I shouldna gang awa' and leave the lawin', but -I had a kind o' irkin' to get anither glisk o' the -sodgers, so I e'en gaed into the room aside them.</p> -<p class="pnext">"They were noo mair uproarious than afore. Nane -were drunk, for 'faith, the Captain wasna the man to -let his men dae that, but a' were geyan wild and -carin' little aboot their language. The Captain sits -at the heid o' the table sippin' his toddy wi' that -dour stieve face o' his that naething could move, and -that ye think wad be ashamed to sae muckle as lauch. -But Maister Veitch wasna like him. He was singin' -and roarin' wi' the loudest, and takin' great wauchts -frae the bowl, far mair than was guid for him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"By and by he gets up on his feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'A health to the Captain,' he says. 'Drink, -lads, to the welfare o' that most valiant soldier and -gentleman, Captain Gilbert Burnet. Ye a' ken the -errand ye're come on, to lay hands on a rebel and take -him to his proper place, and I drink to your guid -success in the matter.' And he lifts up his glass and -spills some o' it ower the table.</p> -<p class="pnext">"At this there was a great uproar, and they a' rose -wi' their glasses and cried on the Captain. He sat a' -the while wi' a sort o' scornfu' smile on his face, as -if he were half-pleased, but thocht little o' the folk -that pleased him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'I thank you,' he says at last. 'I thank you all, -my men, for your good will. We have done well -together in the past, and we'll do better in time to -come. I will prove to the rebel folk o' this land that -Gilbert Burnet will make them obey.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Faith, Gilbert,' says Maister Veitch, 'hae ye no -the grace to speak o' your verra guid friend? I think -ye're beholden to me for a hantle o' your success.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"The Captain looks at him wi' a glint o' guid -humour. 'No more, Michael,' says he, 'than the -cook owes to the scullion. You do my dirty work.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Dirty work, quotha,' cried Maister Veitch, who -was hot and flustered with wine. 'I wouldna tak -that from any other than yoursel', Gilbert, and maybe -no from you.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Take it or not, just as you please,' said the -Captain, scornfully. 'It's no concern o' mine.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"This angered the other, and he spoke up fiercely:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am of as guid blood as yoursel', Gilbert -Burnet. Is a Tweeddale gentleman no as guid as a -bit westland lairdie?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"'Faith, that is too much,' says the Captain. -'Michael, I'll make you answer for this yet.' So he -sat with lowered brows, while Maister Veitch, to a' -appearance, had forgotten the words he had spoken.</p> -<p class="pnext">"In a little the Captain dismisses the men to their -sleeping-quarters, and the pair were left alone, save -for mysel', whae being in the dark shadows near the -door escaped the sicht o' a'. The two gentlemen sat -at the board eyeing each other with little love. By -and by Gilbert speaks.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye called me a bit westland lairdie no long -syne, Maister Veitch, if ye'll be remembering.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"The ither looks up. 'And what if I did?' says -he. 'Is't no the fact?'</p> -<p class="pnext">"'That it's no the fact I have a damned good -mind to let you see,' says the ither.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Michael looks at him askance. 'This is a gey -queer way to treat your friends. I've done a' in my -power to aid you in a' your pliskies. I've turned -clean against the Laird o' Barns, who never did me -ony ill, a' for the sake o' you. And forbye that, -I've done what I could to further your cause wi' my -sister, who is none so well inclined to you. And this -is a' the thanks I get for it, Gilbert?'</p> -<p class="pnext">"I saw by the dour face o' the Captain that he was -mortal thrawn.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'And a' the thanks ye are likely to get,' says -he. 'Is't no enough that a man o' my birth and -fame should be willing to mate wi' one o' your paltry -house, a set o' thieves and reivers wi' no claim to -honour save the exaltation o' the gallows-rope? Gad, -I think it's a mighty favour that I should be so keen -to take the lass from among you.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"'By Heaven, that is too much to swallow!' said -Maister Michael, as some sparks o' proper feeling -rose in him at last; and he struggled to his feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The Captain also rose and looked at him disdainfully.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'What would you do?' said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'This,' said the other, clean carried wi' anger; -and he struck him a ringing lick on the face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gilbert went back a step, and (for his honour I -say it) kept his wrath doun.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'That's a pity,' says he; 'that was a bad action -o' yours, Michael, as ye'll soon ken. I'll trouble -ye to draw.'</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hae felt vexed for mony folk in my life, but -never for yin sae muckle as puir Maister Veitch. He -reddened and stumbled and plucked his sword from its -sheath. He was dazed wi' wine and drowsiness, but -his enemy made nocht o' that.</p> -<p class="pnext">"They crossed swirds and I watched them fall -to. I was terrible feared, for I saw fine that the yin -was as angry as a bull, the ither as helpless as a sheep. -It was against a' decency to let sic a thing gang on, -so I ran forrit and cried on them to stop. 'D'ye no -see the man's fair helpless?' I cried out; but they -never seemed to hear me, but went at it as hard as -ever.</p> -<p class="pnext">"At first baith fought nane sae bad, for baith were -braw swordsmen, and even in sic a plight Michael's -skill didna desert him. Gilbert, too, was quieter -than was to be expectit. But of a sudden a wild fury -seized him. 'I'll teach ye to speak ill o' me and my -house,' he cried in a voice like thunder, and cam on -like a storm o' hail.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Michael fell back and tried to defend himsel'. -But the puir lad was sae dazed and foundered that frae -the first he had nae chance. His blade wabbled at -every guaird, and he never risked a cut. It was just -like a laddie gettin' his paiks frae a maister and keepin' -off the clouts wi' yae airm.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And then he let his sword drop, whether wi' -weariness or no I canna tell, and stood glowrin' -afore him. The Captain never stopped. I dinna -think he ettled it, for when he began I think he didna -mean mair than to punish him for his words. But -now he lunged clean and true. Nae sword kept it -aff, nae coat o' mail wardit it, but deep into Michael's -breast it sank. Wi' yae groan he fell back, and the -breath gaed frae his body.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I could hardly contain mysel wi' rage and sorrow. -At first I was for rinnin' forrit and throttlin' the man, -but I got a glimpse o' his face, and that keepit me. -It was dark as a thunder-clud, and regret and -unquenched anger lookit oot o' his een.</p> -<p class="pnext">"'This is a black business,' he says to himsel', 'a -black damnable business. God knows I never meant -to kill the fool.' And he began to walk up and -down wi' his heid on his breast.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I felt that I had seen eneuch. My whole hert -was sick wi' the peety o' the thing, and forbye it was -time for me to be going if I was ever to win to Tweedside. -So I slips frae the house, which was still quiet, for -naebody kenned o' the deed, and far away somewhere -I heard the lilt o' a sodger's song. I sped doun the -Harbour Walk and syne into Embro', as though the -deil were ahint me. When I won to Auchendinny -it was aboot three in the mornin', and I made a' the -haste I could. I think I maun hae run a' the road -frae there to Leidburn. Then I took ower the Cloch -hills and doun by Harehope and the Meldons. I -crossed Lyne abune the Brig, and came doun Stobo -burn, and here I am. I never met a soul for good or -ill, so the land's quieter thereaways than folk make -it oot. But doun by the Eddleston Water there's a -geyan nest o' sodgers, so ye've nae time to lose, -Laird, if ye wad win to the hills."</p> -<p class="pnext">When I turned to Marjory at the close of this tale -she was weeping silently; yet there was little bitterness -in her tears. Her brother had, after all, made a -better end than one could have guessed from his life. -Indeed, I had small cause to feel kindness to him, -for he had betrayed his trust, and had been the author -of all the ills which had come upon my mistress. -But for her sake I was sad.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marjory," I said, "I have many scores to settle -with my cousin, for all his life he has done me ill, -and the time will come when I shall pay them. I -will add this to the others. Be assured, dear, that -your brother shall not be unavenged."</p> -<p class="pnext">And Marjory dried her tears, and from that hour -spake never a word of Michael. But I knew well -that deep in her heart remained an abiding sorrow -which chastened the gaiety of her spirits.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-claim-a-promise-and-we-seek-the-hills">CHAPTER V</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I CLAIM A PROMISE, AND WE SEEK THE HILLS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">And now I set myself resolutely to think out -something that might be the saving of my life and my -love. I was in a perilous case, for when Gilbert -found that I had escaped him, he would come on -forthwith to Dawyck, and, in all likelihood, be here -ere nightfall. One thing was clear—that I could not -bide myself nor leave Marjory to his tender mercies. -The hills for me; and for her—ah, that was the rub -in the matter!</p> -<p class="pnext">At last I made out some semblance of a plan. -On the edge of Douglasdale, in the shire of Lanark, -dwelt William Veitch at the house of Smitwood, the -uncle of the dead Sir John, an old man well fallen in -the vale of years. He was unmolested by all, being -a peaceable soldier who had served God and the king -in his day, and now thought of nothing save making -a good ending. He would gladly take the lass, I -knew, and shelter her till such time as I should come -and take her again. Nor would Gilbert follow her -thither, for no word should come to his ear of her -destined harbour, and he knew naught of the place -nor the relationship. The plan came upon me with -such convincing force that I took no other thought -on the matter. Nicol should be left there both as a -guard of the place—and who so vigilant?—and as -some means of communication between me and my -mistress. For my own part, when once I had seen -my lass safely sheltered, I should take to the hills -with a light heart. I should love to be free and -careless among the wide moors, and try my wits in a fair -contest against my sweet cousin.</p> -<p class="pnext">I told the thing to Nicol and he gladly agreed. -Then I sought out Marjory, who had gone to make -some preparations for my flight, and found her talking -gravely to the old man, the only remaining servant. -I drew her to the little oak parlour.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marjory, lass," I said, "I am but new come -home, and I little thought to have to take flight again -so soon. Do you mind ere I went to the Low -Countries I came here to bid you farewell, and you sang -me a song?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I mind it well," said she.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have you a remembrance of the air, my dear? -How did it go?" and I whistled a stave.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, even so. You have a good ear, John."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I think, too, that I have mind of a verse or so," -said I. "There was one which ran like this:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"'And if he were a soldier gay</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And tarried from the town,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And sought in wars, through death and scars,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">To win for him renown,</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -<div class="line">I'd place his colours in my breast</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And ride by moor and lea,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And win his side, there to abide</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And bear him company.'</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">Was it not so?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," she said, smiling; "how well you remember, John."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And there was a refrain, too," I went on.</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"'For sooth a maid, all unafraid,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">Should by her lover be,</div> -</div> -<div class="line">With wile and art to cheer his heart,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And bear him company.'"</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">Marjory blushed. "Why do you remind me of -my old song?" she said. "It pains me, for I used -to sing it ere the trouble came upon us, and when we -were all as happy as the day was long."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," I said, "it is a song for the time of -trouble. It was your promise to me, and I have -come to claim its fulfilment. I am for the hills, -Marjory, and I cannot leave you behind. Will you -come and bear me company? I will take you to -Smitwood, where even the devil and my cousin -Gilbert could not follow you. There you will be safe -till I come again when this evil time is past, for pass -it must. And I will go to the hills with a blithe heart, -if once I knew you were in good keeping."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, John, to be sure I will follow you," she -said, "even to the world's end. I will fare among -rough hills and bogs if I may but be near you. But -I will go to Smitwood, for most terribly I dread this -place."</p> -<p class="pnext">So it was all brought to a conclusion, and it but -remained to make ready with all speed and seek the -uplands. We trusted ourselves wholly to Nicol's -guidance, for he knew the ways as he knew his own -name, and had a wide acquaintance with the hillmen -and their hiding-places. On him it lay to find shelter -for us on the road and guide us by the most -unfrequented paths. So we set about the preparing of -provisions and setting the house in order. The old -man, who was the sole servant remaining, was left in -charge of the place against our uncertain return. For -myself I should have taken but one horse, Marjory's -roan mare, and tramped along on foot; but Nicol -bade me take Maisie, for, said he, "I'll tak ye by -little-kenned ways, where ye may ride as easy as walk; -and forbye, if it cam to the bit, a horse is a usefu' -cratur for rinnin' awa on. I could trot fine on my -feet mysel', but though ye're a guid man at the -sma'-swird, Laird, I doubt ye'd no be muckle at -that." The words were wise, so I saddled Maisie and -prepared to ride her to Smitwood, and there leave her.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was, I think, about three hours after midday when -we were ready to start on our journey. A strange -cavalcade we formed—Marjory on the roan, dressed -plainly as for the hills, and with a basket slung across -the saddlebow, for all the world like a tinker's -pannier; I myself on Maisie, well-mounted and armed, -and Nicol on foot, lean and ill-clad as ever. It was -not without a pang that we set out, for it is hard to -leave the fair and settled dwellings of home for -haphazard lodging among rough morasses. Marjory in -especial could scarce refrain from tears, while I own -that as I looked down the vale and saw the woods of -Barns and the green hills of Manor, I could have -found it in me to be despondent.</p> -<p class="pnext">But once we left the valley and began to ascend the -slopes, our spirits returned. It was an afternoon -among a thousand, one such as only April weather -and the air of the Tweed valley can bring. The sky -was cloudless and the wind sharp, and every hill and -ridge in the great landscape stood out clear as steel. -The grass was just greening beneath our feet, the -saugh bushes were even now assuming the little white -catkins, and the whole air was filled with a whistling -and twittering of birds. We took our road straight -through the pine wood which clothes the western -slopes of Scrape. The ground was velvet-dry, and -the deer fled swiftly as we neared their coverts. It -was glorious to be abroad and feel the impulse of life -stirring everywhere around. Yet I could not keep -from the reflection that at this very time the day before -I had been nearing the port of Leith in the Seamaw, -expecting nothing save a pleasant homecoming, and -thereafter a life of peace. Truly in one short day -and night I had led a somewhat active life, and now -was fleeing from the very place I had most longed to -return to.</p> -<p class="pnext">Soon we left the woods and came out on the -heathery brow of Scrape, and crossing it, entered -the deep glen where the burn of Scrape flows to join -the Powsail. The heather had been burned, as is the -custom here in the early spring, and great clouds of -fine white dust rose beneath the hooves of our horses. -A dry crackling of twigs and the strident creak of -the larger roots as they grated on one another, filled -our ears. Then once more we ascended, high -and ever higher, over rocks and treacherous green -well-eyes and great spaces of red fern, till we -gained the brow of the hill which they call -Glenstivon Dod, and looked down into the little glen -of Powsail.</p> -<p class="pnext">We crossed the lovely burn of Powsail, which is -the most beautiful of all Tweedside burns, since the -water is like sapphire and emerald and topaz, flashing -in every ray like myriad jewels. Here we watered -our horses, and once more took the hills. And now -we were on the wild ridge of upland which heads the -glens of Stanhope and Hopecarton and Polmood, the -watershed 'twixt the vales of Tweed and Yarrow. -Thence the sight is scarce to be matched to my -knowledge in the south country of Scotland. An endless -stretching of hills, shoulder rising o'er shoulder, -while ever and again some giant lifts himself clean -above his fellows, and all the while in the glen at our -feet Tweed winding and murmuring.</p> -<p class="pnext">I asked Nicol what was the purpose of our -journey, for this was by no means the shortest way to -Douglasdale and Smitwood. He answered that to go -straight to our destination would be to run our heads -into the lion's mouth. He purposed that we should -go up Tweed to a hiding-place which he knew of on -the Cor Water, and then make over by the upper -waters of the Clyde and the Abington moors to the -house of Smitwood. These were the more deserted -and least accessible places, whereas the villages and -lowlands around the skirts of the hills were watched -like the High Street of Edinburgh.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a little we passed the wild trough where the -Stanhope Burn flows toward Tweed. It was now -drawing toward the darkening, and the deep, black -glen seemed dark as the nether pit. Had we not had -a guide to whom the place was familiar as his own -doorstep, we should soon have been floundering over -some craig. As it was, our case was not without its -danger. It is not a heartening thing to go stumbling -on hilltops in the dusk of an April evening, with -black, horrific hill-slopes sinking on all sides. -Marjory grew frightened, as I knew by the tightened -clutch at her horse's rein, and her ever seeking to -draw nearer me, but like the brave lass that she was, -she breathed never a word of it. Every now and -then an owl would swoop close to our faces, or a great -curlew dart out of the night with its shrill scream, -and vanish again into the dark. It was an uncanny -place at that hour, and one little to be sought by -those who love comfort and peace. But the very -difficulty of the way gladdened us, for it gave us -assurance that we would be unmolested by wayfaring -dragoons. By and by stars came out and the moon -rose, glorious and full as on the night before, when I -had ridden from Leith. Then it served to light my -course to Dawyck, now to guide me from it.</p> -<p class="pnext">We were now descending a steep hillside, all rough -with <em class="italics">sklidders</em>, and coming to the Water of Talla, -which we forded at a shallow a little below the wild -waterfall called Talla Linns. Even there we could -hear the roar of the cataract, and an awesome thing -it was in that lonely place. But we tarried not a -minute, but urged our horses up a desperate ravine till -once more we were on the crest of the hills. And -now a different land was around us. Far to the right, -where the Talla joins the Tweed, we could mark the -few lights of the little village of Tweedsmuir. The -higher hills had been left behind, and we were on a -wide expanse of little ridges and moor which the -people of Tweedside call "The Muirs," and which -extends from the upper Clyde waters to the source of -the Annan and the monstrous hills which line its -course. I had been but once before in the place, in -the winter time, when I was shooting the duck which -come here in great plenty. To me, then, it had seemed -the bleakest place in God's creation, but now, under -the silver moonlight, it seemed like a fantastic fairyland, -and the long, gleaming line of Tweed like the fabled -river which is the entrance to that happy domain.</p> -<p class="pnext">We were now near our journey's end, and in the -very heart of the moors of Tweed. The night was -bright with moonlight, and we went along speedily. -Soon we came to a narrow upland valley, walled -with precipitous green hills. Here Nicol halted.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There'll be watchers aboot," he said, "and our -coming 'ill hae been tellt to the folk in the cave. -We'd better gang warily." So we turned our horses -up the glen, riding along the narrow strip of -meadowland beside the burn. I had heard of the place -before, and knew it for the Cor Water, a stream famous -for trout, and at this time, no less renowned among -the hillmen as a hiding-place. For in the steep -craigs and screes there were many caves and holes -where one might lie hid for months.</p> -<p class="pnext">Soon we came to a steep, green bank, and here we -drew rein. Nicol whistled on his fingers, with a -peculiar, piercing note like a whaup's cry. It was -answered by another from the near neighbourhood. -Again Nicol whistled with a different pitch, and this -time a figure came out as from the hillside, and -spoke.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whae are ye," he said, "that come here, and -what do ye seek? If ye come in the Lord's name, -welcome and a night's lodging await ye. If no, fire -and a sword."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'm Nicol Plenderleith," said my servant, "as -weel ye ken, John Laidlaw. And these are twae -gentlefolk, whose names are no convenient to be -mentioned here, for hillsides hae ears. If ye come -near, I'll whisper it in your lug."</p> -<p class="pnext">The man approached and appeared well-satisfied. -He bade us dismount and led the horses off, while we -waited. Then he returned, and bidding us follow, -led the way up a steep gully which scarred the -hillside. In a little he stopped at an out-jutting rock, -and crept round the corner of it. At the side next -the hill was an opening large enough to allow a man -of ordinary stature to pass, and here he entered and -motioned us to follow.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-cave-of-the-cor-water">CHAPTER VI</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE CAVE OF THE COR WATER</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The place we found ourselves in was a narrow -passage, very lofty and very dark, and with countless -jags of rough stone on all sides to affront the stranger. -Some few paces led us into a wider place, lit by some -opening on the hillside, for a gleam as of pale -moonlight was all about it. There stood a sentinel, a tall, -grave man, dressed in coarse homespun, and brown -of the face. Through this again we passed into -another straitened place, which in a little opened into a -chamber of some magnitude.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I grew accustomed to the candle-light, I -made out that it was a natural cave in the whinstone -rocks, maybe thirty feet in height, square in shape, -and not less than thirty feet long. The black sides -were rough and crusted, and hung in many parts with -articles of household gear and warlike arms. But the -place was less notable than the people who were -sitting there, and greeted us as we entered. In the -midst was a table of rough-hewn wood, whereon lay -the remnants of a meal. Lit pine-staves cast an eerie -glow over all things, and in the light I saw the faces -of the company clear.</p> -<p class="pnext">On a settle of stone covered with a sheep's fleece -sat an old man, large of limb and tall, but bent -and enfeebled with age. His long hair fell down -almost to his shoulders; his features as the light fell -upon them were strong, but his eyes were sightless -and dull as stone. He had a great stick in his hand -which he leaned on, and at our entrance he had risen -and stared before him into vacancy, conscious of -some new presence, but powerless to tell of it. Near -him, along by the table-side, were two men of almost -like age, square, well-knit fellows, with the tanned -faces of hillmen. I guessed them to be shepherds or -folk of that sort who had fled to this common refuge. -Beyond these again stood a tall, slim man of a more -polished exterior than the rest; his attitude had -something of grace in it, and his face and bearing -proclaimed him of better birth. Forbye, there were one -or two more, gaunt, sallow folk, such as I had learned -to know as the extreme religionists. These were busy -conversing together with bowed heads and earnest -voices, and took no heed of our arrival. To add to -all, there were two women, one with a little child, -clearly the wives of the shepherds.</p> -<p class="pnext">Our guide went forward to the man who stood by -the wall and whispered something to him. In an -instant he came to us, and, bowing to Marjory, bade -us welcome. "We are glad to see you here, Master -Burnet," said he. "I am rejoiced to see the -gentlemen of the land coming forth on the side of the -Covenant. It is you and such as you that we need, -and we are blithe to give you shelter here as long as -you care to bide with us. It is a queer thing that two -men of the same house should be engaged in this -business on different sides."</p> -<p class="pnext">Here one of the others spoke up.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I trust, Master Burnet, ye have brought us good -news from the Lawlands. We heard that ye had -great converse with the godly there, and we will be -glad to hear your account of how the guid cause -prospers over the water."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I felt myself in a position of much -discomfort. The cause of my outlawry had clearly got -abroad, and here was I, credited with being a zealous -religionist and a great man among the Scots exiles in -Holland. Whereas, as I have already said, I cared -little for these things, being not of a temper which -finds delight in little differences of creed or details -of ecclesiastical government, but caring little in what -way a man may worship his Maker. Indeed, to this -day, while I can see the advantage of having fixed -rites and a church established, I see little use in -making a pother about any deviation. So I now found -myself in an unpleasing predicament. I must avow -my utter ignorance of such matters and my worldly -motives for thus seeking shelter, and in all likelihood, -win the disfavour of these folk, nay, even be not -suffered to remain.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I thank you for your welcome," said I, "but I -must hasten to set matters right between us. I am -not of your party, though it is my misfortune to have -to seek safety among the hills. It is true I have been -in the Low Countries, but it was for the purposes of -study and seeing the world, and not for the sake of -religion. If I must speak the truth, when I abode -there I had little care of such things, for they were -never in my way. Now that I am returned and find -myself a fugitive, I am not a whit more concerned -with them. My misfortunes arise from the guile of a -kinsman, and not from my faith. So there you have -my predicament."</p> -<p class="pnext">I made the declaration crudely and roughly, for the -necessity was urgent upon me of making it very plain -at the outset. Another man would have been -repelled or angered, but this man had the penetration to -see through my mask of callousness that I was not -ill-disposed to his cause.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is no matter," he said. "Though you were -the most rabid malignant, we would yet give you -shelter. And, indeed, though you may not be of our -way of thinking in all matters, yet I doubt not you -are with us on the essentials. Forbye, you are a -gentleman of Tweeddale, and it would be queer if you -werena right-hearted, Master John Burnet."</p> -<p class="pnext">Some one of the disputants grumbled, but the -others seemed heartily to share in this opinion, and -bidding us sit down, they removed our travelling gear, -and set food before us. Our appetites were sharp with -the long hill journey, and we were not slow in getting -to supper. Meanwhile the long man to whom we -had first spoken busied himself with serving us, for in -that desert place every man was his own servant. -Afterwards Marjory went to the women, and soon -won their liking, for the heart would be hard indeed -which was not moved by her pretty ways and graces.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I had done I sat down on the settle with the -rest, and the fire which burned in a corner of the -cave was made up, and soon the place was less dismal -but a thousandfold more fantastic. I could scarce -keep from thinking that it was all a dream; that my -landing, and midnight ride, and Nicol's news, and my -perilous predicament were all figments of the brain. -I was too tired to have any anxiety, for I would have -you remember that I had ridden all the night and -most of the day without a wink of sleep, besides -having just come off a sea voyage. My eyelids -drooped, and I was constantly sinking off into a doze. -The whole place tended to drowsiness; the shadows -and the light, the low hum of talk, the heavy air, for -the outlet for smoke was but narrow. But the man -I have spoken of came and sat down beside me and -would engage me in talk.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I do not think you know me, Master Burnet," -said he; "but I knew your father well, and our -houses used to be well acquaint. I am one o' the -Carnwath Lockharts, that ye may hae heard o'. My -name is Francis Lockhart o' the Beltyne."</p> -<p class="pnext">I knew him when he uttered the words, for I -had often heard tell of him for a gallant gentleman -who had seen service under Gustavus and in many -Low Country wars. I complimented myself on his -acquaintance, which kindness he proceeded to repay. -So we fell to discussing many things—men I had -known in Leyden, men I had known in Tweeddale, -together with the more momentous question of the -future of each of us. I gave him a full account of -my recent fortunes, that he might have wherewith to -contradict any rumours as to my reasons for taking to -the hills. He in turn spoke to me of his life, and -his sorrow at the fate of his land. The man spoke -in such unfeigned grief, and likewise with such a -gentleman-like note of fairness, that I felt myself -drawn to him. It was while thus engaged that he -spoke a word which brought upon him the -condemnation of one of the ethers.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh," said he, "I would that some way might be -found to redd up thae weary times and set the king -richt on his throne, for I canna but believe that in this -matter loyalty and religion go hand in hand; and that -were James Stewart but free from his wanchancy -advisers there would be less talk of persecuting."</p> -<p class="pnext">At this one of the others, a dark man from the -West, spoke up sharply. "What do I hear, Maister -Lockhart? It's no by ony goodwill to James Stewart -that we can hope to set things richt in thae dark -times. Rather let our mouths be filled with psalms -and our hands with the sword-hilt, and let us teach -the wanton and the scorner what manner o' men are -bred by the Covenant and the Word."</p> -<p class="pnext">The speech was hateful to me, and yet as I looked -in the dark, rugged face of the man I could not keep -from liking it. Here, at any rate, was a soul of -iron. My heart stirred at his words, and I could -have found it in me to cast in my lot even with such -as these, and bide the bent with naught but a good -sword and faith in God. Howbeit, it was well I -made no such decision, for I was never meant for one -of them. I ever saw things too clearly, both the evil -and the good; and whereas this quality hinders from -swift and resolute action, it yet leads more plainly to -a happy life.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then the old man, him whom I have spoken of, -beckoned to me with his staff and bade me come and -sit by him. He looked so kinglike even in his -affliction that I thought on the old blind king Oedipus in -the Greek play.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye kenna me, John Burnet, but weel ken I -you. Often in the auld days your father and me had -gey ploys hunting and fechting roond a' the muirs o' -Tweed. He was a guid man, was Gilbert, and I -hear he had glimpses o' grace in the hinner end."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maybe," said I, being in perplexity, for from -the grace that he spoke of, my father had ever been far.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, and I was sair vexed I saw him so little. -For he had to bide at hame for the last years, and I -was aye busied wi' other work. Yeddie o' the Linns -was never an idle man, and less than ever in thae days."</p> -<p class="pnext">At the mention of his name a flood of recollection -came in upon me. I minded how I had heard of -the son of Lord Fairley, a great soldier who had won -high renown in the wars abroad: and how he had -returned a melancholy man, weighed down with the -grave cares of religion, and gone to the wilds of -Tweed to a hut just above the Linns of Talla, where -he spent his days in prayer and meditation. The -name of Yeddie o' the Linns, as he was called among -the shepherds and folk of these parts, became an -equivalent for high-hearted devotion. Then when the -wars began tales of him grew over the countryside. -In stature he was all but gigantic, famed over half -the towns of France for feats of strength, and no evil -living had impaired his might. So at the outbreak -of the persecution he had been a terror to the soldiers -who harried these parts. The tale ran of the four -men whom he slew single-handed at the Linns, -hemming them in a nook of rocks, and how often he had -succoured fugitives and prisoners, coming like an old -lion from the hills and returning no one knew whither. -There was also the tale of his blinding by a chance -splinter from a bullet-shot, and how he had lived -among the caves and hills, dangerous even in his -affliction. Had I but known it, this cave was his -finding, and half the retreats in Tweeddale and -Clydesdale were known to him. But now he was an -old man, who had long left his youth, and his strength -had all but gone from him. He sat alone in his -great darkness, speaking little to the inmates or the -chance comers, save when he knew them for gentlemen -of birth; for though he might risk his life for the -common people, he had no care to associate with -them, being of the old Kirkpatricks of that ilk, as -proud a house as is to be found in the land.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You are not of us," he said suddenly. "I -heard you say a moment agone that you had no share -in the inheritance of Jacob, but still chose to dwell -among the tents of sin."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," I said very gently, for he was very old -and of noble presence, "do not speak thus. Surely -it is no sin to live at peace in the good earth in -honour and uprightness, and let all nice matters of -doctrine go by, esteeming it of more importance to be a -good man and true than a subtle disquisitioner—thinking, -too, that all such things are of little moment and -change from age to age, and that to concern one's self -much with them is to follow vain trifles. For the root -of the whole matter is a simple thing on which all -men are agreed, but the appurtenances are many, and -to me at least of such small significance that I care -for them not at all. I do not mind how a man -worship his Maker, if he have but real devoutness. -I do not care how a church is governed if the folk in -it are in very truth God's people."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You speak well, my son," said he, "and at one -time I should have gone with you. Nor do I set -any great value by doctrine. But you are young and -the blood is still rich in your veins and the world -seems a fair place, with many brave things to be -achieved. But I am old and have seen the folly of -all things, how love is only a delusion and honour a -catchword and loyalty a mockery. And as the things -of earth slip away from me, and the glory of my -strength departs, I see more clearly the exceeding -greatness of the things of God. And as my eyes cease -to be set on earth, I see more nearly the light of that -better country which is an heavenly. So I love to -bide in these dark moors where the pomp of the -world comes not, among men of grave conversation, -for I have leisure and a fitting place to meditate upon -the things to come."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It may be," said I, "that some day I also be -of your way of thinking. At present the world, -though the Devil is more loose in it than I love, -seems to me so excellent that I would pluck the heart -of it before I condemn it. But God grant that I -may never lose sight of the beauty of His kingdom."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Amen to that," said the old man very reverently.</p> -<p class="pnext">Truly, my thoughts on things were changing. -Here was I in the very stronghold of the fanatics, -and in the two chief, the old man and Master -Lockhart, I found a reasonable mind and lofty purpose. -And thus I have ever found it, that the better sort of -the Covenanters were the very cream of Scots gentlefolk, -and that 'twas only in the <em class="italics">canaille</em> that the gloomy -passion of fanatics was to be found.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meantime Nicol, who cared for none of these -things, was teaching the child how to play at the cat's -garterns.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="how-two-of-his-majesty-s-servants-met-with-their-deserts">CHAPTER VII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">HOW TWO OF HIS MAJESTY'S SERVANTS MET WITH -THEIR DESERTS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The next morn broke fair and cloudless, and ere -the sun was up I was awake, for little time must be -lost if we sought to win to Smitwood ere the pursuit -began. The folk of the cave were early risers, for -the need for retiring early to rest made them so; and -we broke our fast with a meal of cakes and broiled -fish almost before daylight. Then I went out to -enjoy the fresh air, for it was safe enough to be abroad -at that hour. Nothing vexed the still air on the green -hillside save the flapping peewits and the faint -morning winds.</p> -<p class="pnext">Marjory meantime ran out into the sunshine with -all the gaiety in the world. She was just like a child -let loose from school, for she was ever of a light -heart and care sat easily upon her. Now, although -we were in the direst peril, she was taking delight in -spring, as if we were once again children in Dawyck, -catching trout in the deep pools of the wood. She -left me to go out from the little glen, which was the -entrance to the cave, into the wider dale of the Cor -Water, which ran shallow between lone green braes. -I heard her singing as she went down among the -juniper bushes and flinty rocks, and then it died away -behind a little shoulder of hill.</p> -<p class="pnext">So I was left to my own reflections on the plight -in which I found myself. For the first time a sort of -wounded pride began to vex me. Formerly I had -thought of nothing save how to save my own head -and keep my love from my enemy, and cared not, if -in the effecting of it, I had to crouch with the fox -and be chased by the basest scum of the land. I -cared not if I were put out of house and home and -outlawed for years, for the adventurous spirit was -strong within me. But now all my old pride of -race rose in rebellion at the thought that I was -become a person without importance, a houseless -wanderer, the spoil of my enemies. It made me bitter as -gall to think of it, and by whose aid my misfortune -had been effected. A sort of hopeless remorse came -over me. Should I ever win back the place I had -lost? Would the Burnets ever again be great -gentlemen of Tweeddale, a power in the countryside, -having men at their beck and call? Or would the -family be gone forever, would I fall in the wilds, or -live only to find my lands gone with my power, and -would Marjory never enter Barns as its mistress? I -could get no joy out of the morning for the thought, -and as I wandered on the hillside I had little care of -what became of me.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now at this time there happened what roused me -and set me once more at peace with myself. And -though it came near to being a dismal tragedy, it was -the draught which nerved me for all my later perils. -And this was the manner of it.</p> -<p class="pnext">Marjory, as she told me herself afterwards, had -gone down to the little meadows by the burnside, -where she watched the clear brown water and the fish -darting in the eddies. She was thus engaged, when -she was aware of two horsemen who rode over the -top of the glen and down the long hill on the other -side. They, were almost opposite before she -perceived them, and there was no time tor flight. Like -a brave lass she uttered no scream, but stood still that -they might not see her. But it was of no avail. -Their roving eyes could not miss in that narrow glen -so fair a sight, and straightway one called out to the -other that there was a girl at the burnside.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now had the twain been out on an ordinary foray -it would have gone hard indeed with us. For they -would have turned aside to search out the matter, and -in all likelihood the hiding-place would have been -discovered. But they had been out on some night errand -and were returning in hot haste to their quarters at -Abington, where their captain had none too gentle a -temper. So they contented themselves with shouting -sundry coarse railleries, and one in the plenitude of -his greathearted ness fired his carbine at her. Without -stopping further they rode on.</p> -<p class="pnext">The bullet just grazed her arm above the wrist, -cutting away a strip of dress. She cried out at the -pain, but though frightened almost to death, she was -brave enough to bide where she was, for if she had -run straight to the cave it would have shown them the -hiding-place. As soon as they passed out of view she -came painfully up the slope, and I who had heard the -shot and rushed straightway to the place whence it -came, met her clasping her wounded wrist and with -a pitiful white face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"O Marjory, what ails you?" I cried.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nothing, John," she answered; "some soldiers -passed me and one fired. It has done me no harm. -But let us get to shelter lest they turn back."</p> -<p class="pnext">At her words I felt my heart rise in a sudden great -heat of anger. I had never felt such passion before. -It seemed to whelm and gulf my whole being.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let me carry you, dear," I said quietly, and -lifting her I bore her easily up the ravine to the cave.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I got her within our shelter there was a very -great to-do. The women ran up in grief to see the -hurt, and the men at the news of the military wore -graver faces. Master Lockhart, who was something -of a surgeon, looked at the wound.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh," he says, "this is nothing, a scratch and no -more. It will be well as ever to-morrow. But the -poor maid has had a fright which has made her weak. -I have some choice French brandy which I aye carry -with me for the fear of such accidents. Some of that -will soon restore her."</p> -<p class="pnext">So he fetched from some unknown corner the bottle -which he spake of, and when her lips had been -moistened, Marjory revived and declared her weakness -gone. Now my most pressing anxiety was removed, -which up till this time had been harassing me sore. -For if my lady were to be hurt in this unfriendly -place, what hope of safety would there be for either? -When I saw that the wound was but trifling, the -anger which had been growing in my heart side by -side with my care, wholly overmastered me. All my -pride of house and name was roused at the deed. To -think that the lady who was the dearest to me in the -world should be thus maltreated by scurrilous knaves -of dragoons stirred me to fury. I well knew that -I could get no peace with the thought, and my -inclination and good-judgment alike made me take the -course I followed.</p> -<p class="pnext">I called to Nicol, where he sat supping his morning -porridge by the fire, and he came to my side very -readily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Get the two horses," said I quietly, that none -of the others might hear of my madness, "one for -me and one for yourself." Now the beasts were -stabled in the back part of the cave, which was roomy -and high, though somewhat damp. The entrance -thereto lay by a like rift in the hillside some hundred -yards farther up the glen. When I had thus bidden -my servant I sauntered out into the open air and -waited his coming with some impatience.</p> -<p class="pnext">I asked him, when he appeared, if he had the -pistols, for he had a great trick of going unarmed and -trusting to his fleet legs and mother wit rather than -the good gifts of God to men, steel and gunpowder. -"Ay, laird, I hae them. Are ye gaun to shoot -muirfowl?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," said I, "I am thinking of shooting a -muirfowl for my breakfast."</p> -<p class="pnext">Nicol laughed quietly to himself. He knew well -the errand I was on, or he would not have consented -so readily.</p> -<p class="pnext">I knew that the two dragoons had ridden straight -down the Cor Water glen, making for the upper vale of -Tweed and thence to the Clyde hills. But this same -glen of Cor is a strangely winding one, and if a man -leave it and ride straight over the moorland he may -save a matter of two miles, and arrive at the Tweed -sooner than one who has started before him. The -ground is rough, but, to one used to the hills, not so -as to keep him from riding it with ease. Also at the -foot of the burn there is a narrow nick through which -it thrusts itself in a little cascade to join the larger -stream; and through this place the road passes, for -all the hills on either side are steep and stony, and -offer no foothold for a horse. Remembering all -these things, a plan grew up in my mind which I -hastened to execute.</p> -<p class="pnext">With Nicol following, I rode aslant the low hills -to the right and came to the benty tableland which -we had travelled the day before. The sun was now -well up in the sky, and the air was so fresh and sweet -that it was pure pleasure to breathe it.</p> -<p class="pnext">After maybe a quarter-hour's stiff riding we -descended, and keeping well behind a low spur which -hid us from the valley, turned at the end into the -glen-mouth, at the confluence of the two waters. -Then we rode more freely till we reached the narrows -which I have spoke of, and there we halted. All -was quiet, nor was there any sound of man or horse.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you bide there," said I to my servant, -"while I will wait here. Now I will tell you what I -purpose to do. The two miscreants who shot Mistress -Marjory are riding together on their way to their -quarters. One will have no shot in his carbine; what -arms the other has I cannot tell; but at any rate we -two with pistols can hold them in check. Do you -cover the one on the right when they appear, and -above all things see that you do not fire."</p> -<p class="pnext">So we waited there, sitting motionless in our -saddles, on that fair morning when all around us the air -was full of crying snipe and twittering hill-linnets. -The stream made a cheerful sound, and the little green -ferns in the rocks nodded beneath the spray of the -water. I found my mind misgiving me again and -again for the headstrong prank on which I was -entered, as unworthy of one who knew something of -better things. But I had little time for self-communings, -for we had scarce been there two minutes before -we heard the grating of hooves on the hill-gravel, and -our two gentlemen came round the corner not twenty -yards ahead.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the sight of us they reined up and stared stock -still before them. Then I saw the hands of both -reach to their belts, and I rejoiced at the movement, -for I knew that the arms of neither were loaded.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gentlemen," said I, "it will be at your peril -that you move. We have here two loaded pistols. -We are not soldiers of His Majesty, so we have some -skill in shooting. Let me assure you on my word -that your case is a desperate one."</p> -<p class="pnext">At my words the one still looked with a haughty, -swaggering stare, but the jaw of the other dropped and -he seemed like a man in excess of terror.</p> -<p class="pnext">"To-day," I went on, "you shot at a lady not -half an hour agone. It is for this that I have come -to have speech with you. Let us understand one -another, my friends. I am an outlawed man and one -not easy to deal with. I am the Laird of Barns—ah, -I see you know the name—and let this persuade -you to offer no resistance."</p> -<p class="pnext">One of the twain still stood helpless. The other's -hand twitched as if he would draw his sword or reach -to his powder-flask, but the steely glitter of our barrels -and my angry face deterred him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do you want with us?" he said in a tone -of mingled sulkiness and bravado. "Let me tell -you, I am one of His Majesty's dragoons, and you'll -pay well for any ill you do to me. I care not a fig -for you, for all your gentrice. If you would but lay -down your pop-guns and stand before me man to -man, I would give you all the satisfaction you want."</p> -<p class="pnext">The fellow was a boor but he spoke like a man, -and I liked him for his words. But I replied grimly:</p> -<p class="pnext">"I will have none of your bragging. Go and try -that in your own stye, you who shoot at women. I -will give you as long as I may count a hundred, and -if before that you have not stripped off every rag you -have on and come forward to me here, by God I will -shoot you down like the dogs you are."</p> -<p class="pnext">And with this I began solemnly to count aloud.</p> -<p class="pnext">At first they were still rebellious, but fear of the -death which glinted to them from the barrels of the -pistols won the mastery. Slowly and with vast -reluctance they began to disrobe themselves of belt and -equipments, of coat and jackboots, till they stood -before me in the mild spring air as stark as the day -they were born. Their faces were heavy with malice -and shame.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now," said I to Nicol, "dismount and lay on -to these fellows with the flat of your sword. Give -me your pistol, and if either makes resistance he will -know how a bullet tastes. Lay on, and do not spare -them."</p> -<p class="pnext">So Nicol, to whom the matter was a great jest, got -down and laid on lustily. They shouted most piteously -for mercy, but none they got till the stout arm -of my servant was weary.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And now, gentlemen, you may remount your -horses. Nay, without your clothes; you will ride -more freely as you are. And give my best respects -to your honourable friends, and tell them I wish a -speedy meeting."</p> -<p class="pnext">But as I looked in the face of one, him who had -been so terror-stricken at the outset, I saw that which -I thought I recognised.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You, fellow," I cried, "where have I seen -you before?"</p> -<p class="pnext">And as I looked again, I remembered a night the -year before on the Alphen road, when I had stood -over this very man and questioned him on his name -and doings. So he had come to Scotland as one of -the foreign troops.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know you, Jan Hamman," said I. "The -great doctor Johannes Burnetus of Lugdunum has not -forgotten you. You were scarcely in an honest trade -before, but you are in a vast deal less honest now. I -vowed if ever I met you again to make you smart for -your sins, and I think I have kept my word, though -I had the discourtesy to forget your face at first sight. -Good morning, Jan, I hope to see you again ere long. -Good morning, gentlemen both."</p> -<p class="pnext">So the luckless pair rode off homeward, and what -reception they met with from their captain and their -comrades who shall say?</p> -<p class="pnext">Meanwhile, when they were gone for some little -time, Nicol and I rode back by a round-about path. -When I began to reflect, I saw the full rashness of -my action. I had burned my boats behind me with -a vengeance. There was no choice of courses before -me now. The chase would be ten times hotter -against me than before, and besides I had given them -some clue to my whereabouts. You may well ask -if the danger to my love were not equally great, for -that by this action they would know at least the airt -by which she had fled. I would answer that these -men were of Gilbert's own company, and one, at -least, of them, when he heard my name, must have -had a shrewd guess as to who the lady was. My -cousin's love affairs were no secret. If the man had -revealed the tale in its entirety, his own action must -necessarily have been exposed, and God help him -who had insulted one whom Gilbert cared for. He -would have flayed the skin from him at the very -mention.</p> -<p class="pnext">To my sober reason to-day the action seems -foolhardy in the extreme, and more like a boyish frolic -than the work of a man. But all I knew at the time, -as I rode back, was that my pride was for the moment -soothed, and my heart mightily comforted.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="of-our-wanderings-among-the-moors-of-clyde">CHAPTER VIII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">OF OUR WANDERINGS AMONG THE MOORS OF CLYDE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">If there had been haste before in our journey there -was the more now, when in a few hours the countryside -would be alive with our foes. I hurriedly considered -in my mind the course of events. In three -hours' riding the soldiers, all stark as they were, would -come to Abington, and in three more the road to -Douglasdale would be blocked by a dozen companies. -It was no light thing thus to have set the whole hell's -byke in Clydesdale buzzing about my ears.</p> -<p class="pnext">We were not long in reaching the cave. Here to -my joy I found Marjory all recovered from her fright, -and the wound hurting her no more than a pin's -scratch. When I spoke of immediate progress she -listened gladly and was for setting out forthwith. I -did not tell her of the soldiers' discomfiture, for I -knew that she would fall to chiding me for my -foolhardiness, and besides she would have more dismal -fears for my future if she knew that I had thus -incensed the military against me.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was with much regret that I bade farewell to -Master Lockhart and the old man; nor would they -let me go without a promise that if I found myself -hard pressed at any time in the days to come I would -take refuge with them. I was moved by the sight of -the elder, who laying his hand on my lady's head, -stroked her fair golden hair gently and said, "Puir lass, -puir lass, ye're no for the muirs. I foresee ill days -coming for ye when ye'll hae nae guid sword to -protect ye. But lippen weel to the Lord, my bairn, and -He'll no forsake ye." So amid the speaking of -farewells and well-wishes we rode out into the green -moors.</p> -<p class="pnext">How shall I tell of that morning ride? I have seen -very many days in April now, for I am a man aging -to middle life, but never have I seen one like that. -The sky was one sheet of the faintest blue, with -delicate white clouds blown lightly athwart it. The air -was so light that it scarce stirred the grass, so cool that -it made our foreheads as crisp and free as on a frosty -winter's day, so mild that a man might have fancied -himself still in the Low Lands. The place was very -quiet save for a few sounds and these the most -delectable on earth—the cries of sheep and the tender -bleating of young lambs, the rise and fall of the -stream, the croon of rock pigeons, and the sterner -notes of curlew and plover. And the grass was short -and lawnlike, stretching in wavy ridges to the stream, -seamed with little rush-fringed rills and patched with -fields of heath. Only when we gained the edge had -we any view of country, and even then it was but -circumscribed. Steep fronting hills, all scarred with -ravines; beyond, shoulders and peaks rising ever into -the distance, and below us the little glen which holds -the head waters of Tweed.</p> -<p class="pnext">We crossed the river without slacking rein, for the -water scarce reached above our horses' pasterns. And -now we struck up a burn called the Badlieu, at the -foot of which was a herd's shieling. The spirit of -the spring seemed to have clean possessed Marjory and -I had never seen her so gay. All her past sorrows -and present difficulties seemed forgotten, and a mad -gaiety held her captive. She, who was for usual so -demure, now cast her gravity to the winds, and seemed -bent on taking all the joys of the fair morning. She -laughed, she sang snatches of old songs, and she -leaped her horse lightly over the moss-trenches. She -stooped to pluck some early white wind-flowers, and -set some in her hair and some at her saddle-bow.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, John," she cried, "if you and I must -take to the hills let us do it with some gallantry. It -is glorious to be abroad. I would give twelve months -of sleepy peace at Dawyck for one hour of this life. -I think this must be the Garden of Perpetual Youth -in the fairy tale."</p> -<p class="pnext">The same mad carelessness took hold on me also. -Of a sudden my outlook on the world changed round -to the opposite, and the black forebodings which had -been ever present to distress me, seemed to vanish like -dew before the sun. Soon I was riding as gaily as she; -while Nicol, as he ran with great strides and unfaltering -breath, he too became light-hearted, though to tell the -truth care was not a commodity often found with him.</p> -<p class="pnext">Soon we had climbed the low range which separates -the Clyde glen from the Tweed and turned down the -narrow ravine of the burn which I think they call -Fopperbeck, and which flows into the Evan Water. -Now it would have been both easier and quieter to -have ridden down the broad, low glen of the Medlock -Water, which flows into Clyde by the village of -Crawford. But this would have brought us perilously -near the soldiers at Abington, and if once the pursuit -had begun every mile of distance would be worth to us -much gold. Yet though the danger was so real I -could not think of it as any matter for sorrow, but -awaited what fate God might send with a serene -composure, begotten partly of my habitual rashness and -partly of the intoxication of the morn.</p> -<p class="pnext">We kept over the rocky ravine through which the -little river Evan flows to Annan, and came to the -wide moorlands which stretch about the upper streams -of Clyde. Here we had a great prospect of landscape, -and far as eye could see no living being but ourselves -moved in these desolate wastes. Far down, just at -the mouth of the glen where the vale widens -somewhat, rose curling smoke from the hamlet of -Elvanfoot, a place soon to be much resorted to and briskly -busy, since, forbye lying on the highway 'twixt -Edinburgh and Dumfries, it is there that the by-path goes -off leading to the famous lead mines, at the two places -of Leadhills and Wanlockhead. But now it was but -a miserable roadside clachan of some few low huts, -with fodder for neither man nor beast.</p> -<p class="pnext">As we rode we looked well around us, for we were -in an exceeding dangerous part of our journey. To -the right lay Abington and the lower Clyde valley, -where my sweet cousin and his men held goodly -fellowship. Even now they would be buckling -saddle-straps, and in two hours would be in the places -through which we were now passing. To the left -was the long pass into Nithsdale, where half a score -of gentlemen did their best to instil loyalty into the -Whigs of the hills. I hated the land to that airt, for -I had ever loathed the south and west countries, where -there is naught but sour milk and long prayers without -a tincture of gentrice or letters. I was a man of -Tweeddale who had travelled and studied and mingled -among men. I had no grudge against sheltering with -the Tweedside rebels, who were indeed of my own -folk; but I had no stomach for Nithsdale and -Clydesdale rant and ill fare. Had not necessity driven me -there I vow I should never have ventured of myself; -and as I rode I swore oftentimes that once I were free -of my errand I would seek my refuge in my own -countryside.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now we were climbing the long range which -flanks the Potrail Water, which is the larger of the -twin feeders of Clyde. Now we turned more to the -north, and skirting the wild hills which frown around -the pass of Enterkin, sought the upper streams of the -Duneaton Water. I cannot call to mind all the burns -we crossed or the hills we climbed, though they have -all been told to me many a time and again. One little -burn I remember called the Snar, which flowed very -quietly and pleasantly in a deep, heathery glen. Here -we halted and suffered our horses to graze, while we -partook of some of the food which the folk of the -Cor Water had sent with us. Now the way which -we had come had brought us within seven miles of the -dragoons' quarters at Abington, for it was necessary -to pass near them to get to Douglasdale and -Smitwood. But they had no clue to our whereabouts, and -when they set forth against us must needs ride first -to the Tweed valley.</p> -<p class="pnext">Here in this narrow glen we were in no danger save -from some chance wandering soldier. But this -danger was the less to be feared, since if Gilbert had any -large portion of his men out on one errand he would -be sure to set the rest to their duties as garrison. For -my cousin had no love for lax discipline, but had all -the family pride of ordering and being obeyed to the -letter. So we kindled a little fire by the stream-side, -and in the ashes roasted some eggs of a muirfowl -which Nicol had picked up on the journey; and which -with the cheese and the cakes we had brought made a -better meal than I might hope for for many days to -come. We sat around the fire in the dry heather -'neath the genial sun, thanking God that we were -still alive in the green world and with few cares save -the frustrating of our foes. Marjory was somewhat -less cheerful than in the morning, partly from the -fatigue of riding, which in these waste places is no -light thing, and partly because anxiety for my safety -and sorrow at our near parting were beginning to -oppress her. For herself, I verily believe, she had no -care, for she was brave as a lion in the presence of -what most women tremble at. But the loneliness -of a great house and the never-appeased desire for -knowledge of my safety were things which came -nearer so rapidly that I did not wonder she lost her -gaiety.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, what will you do alone in these places?" she -said. "If you had but one with you, I should be -comforted. Will you not let Nicol accompany you?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Now when my lady looked at me with melting eyes -and twined her hands in her eagerness, it was hard to -have to deny her. But I was resolved that my -servant should abide at Smitwood to guard her and bring -me tidings if aught evil threatened.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay, dear," I said, "that may not be. I -cannot have you left with an old man who is helpless -with age and a crew of hireling servants. I should -have no heart to live in the moors if I had not some -hope of your safety. Believe me, dear, I can very -well defend myself. My skill of hillcraft is as good -as any dragoon's, and I have heard folk say that I -am no ill hand with a sword. And I know the -countryside like the palm of my own hand, and friends are -not few among these green glens. Trust me, no ill -will come near me, and our meeting will be all the -merrier for our parting."</p> -<p class="pnext">I spoke heartily, but in truth I was far from feeling -such ease of mind. For my old cursed pride was -coming back, and I was beginning to chafe against the -beggarly trade of skulking among the moors when I had a -fine heritage for my own, and above all when I was a -scholar and had thoughts of a peaceful life. I found -it hard to reconcile my dream of a philosophic life -wherein all things should be ordered according to -the dictates of reason, with the rough and ready times -which awaited me, when my sword must keep my -head, and my first thought must be of meat and -lodging, and cunning and boldness would be qualities -more valuable than subtle speculation and lofty -imagining.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a little we were rested and rode on our way. -Across the great moors of Crawfordjohn we passed, -which is a place so lonely that the men in these parts -have a proverb, "Out of the world and into -Crawfordjohn." We still kept the uplands till we came -to the springs of a burn called the Glespin, which -flows into the Douglas Water. Our easier path had -lain down by the side of this stream past the little -town of Douglas. But in the town was a garrison of -soldiers—small, to be sure, and feeble, but still -there—who were used to harry the moors around Cairntable -and Muirkirk. So we kept the ridges till below -us we saw the river winding close to the hill and the -tower of Smitwood looking out of its grove of trees. -By this time darkness was at hand, and the last miles -of our journey were among darkening shadows. We -had little fear of capture now, for we were on the -lands of the castle, and Veitch of Smitwood was famed -over all the land for a cavalier and a most loyal -gentleman. So in quiet and meditation we crossed the -stream at the ford, and silently rode up the long -avenue to the dwelling.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-part-from-marjory">CHAPTER IX</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I PART FROM MARJORY</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">"I've travelled far and seen many things, but, -Gad, I never saw a stranger than this. My niece is -driven out of house and home by an overbold lover, -and you, Master Burnet, come here and bid me take -over the keeping of this firebrand, which, it seems, is -so obnoxious to His Majesty's lieges."</p> -<p class="pnext">So spake the old laird of Smitwood, smiling. He -was a man of full eighty years of age, but still erect -with a kind of soldierly bearing. He was thin and -tall, and primly dressed in the fashion of an elder day. -The frosty winter of age had come upon him, but in -his ruddy cheek and clean-cut face one could see the -signs of a hale and vigorous decline. He had greeted -us most hospitably, and seemed hugely glad to see -Marjory again, whom he had not set eyes on for many -a day. We had fallen to supper with keen appetite, -for the air of the moors stirs up the sharpest hunger; -and now that we had finished we sat around the -hall-fire enjoying our few remaining hours of company -together. For myself I relished the good fare and the -warmth, for Heaven knew when either would be mine -again. The high oak-roofed chamber, hung with -portraits of Veitches many, was ruddy with fire-light. -Especially the picture in front of the chimney by -Vandyke, of that Michael Veitch who died at -Philiphaugh, was extraordinarily clear and lifelike. -Master Veitch looked often toward it; then he took snuff -with a great air of deliberation, and spoke in his high, -kindly old voice.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My brother seems well to-night, Marjory. I -have not seen him look so cheerful for years." (He -had acquired during his solitary life the habit of talking -to the picture as if it were some living thing.) "I -can never forgive the Fleming for making Michael -hold his blade in so awkward a fashion. Faith, he -would have been little the swordsman he was, if he -had ever handled sword like that. I can well -remember when I was with him at Etzburg, how he engaged -in a corner two Hollanders and a Swiss guard, and -beat them back till I came up with him and took one -off his hands."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have heard of that exploit," said I. "You -must know that I have just come from the Low -Countries, where the names of both of you are still -often on men's lips."</p> -<p class="pnext">The old man seemed well pleased.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah," he said, "so you have come from abroad. -In what place did you bide, may I enquire?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"In the town of Leyden," said I, "for my aim -was no more than to acquire learning at the college -there. But I foregathered with many excellent Scots -gentlemen from whom I heard the talk of the camp -and the state."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Say you so? Then what do you here? Did -you return on the single errand of protecting my fair -niece? But stay! I am an old man who cares not -much for the chatter of the country, but I have -heard—or am I wrong?—that you were not of the true -party, but leaned to the Whigs?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," I cried, "I beseech you not to believe -it. God knows I am a king's man out and out, -and would see all whigamores in perdition before I -would join with them. But fate has brought me into -a strange mixture of misfortunes. I land at Leith, -expecting nothing save a peaceful homecoming, and -lo! I find my cousin waiting with a warrant for -my arrest. I am accused of something I am wholly -innocent of, but I cannot prove it; nay, there is -evidence against me, and my enemies in the Council -are all-powerful. Moreover, if I suffer myself to be -taken, Marjory is at the mercy of my foes. I take -the only course; give the dragoons the slip, and ride -straight to Tweeddale, escort her to a house where -she will be safe and unknown; and when this is done -take to the hills myself with a light heart. They are -too ill-set against me for my setting any hope in going -to Edinburgh and pleading my case. Was there any -other way?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"None," said Master Veitch, "but it is a hard -case for yourself. Not the hiding among the moors; -this is a noble trade for any young man of spirit. But -the consorting with the vile fanatics of these deserts -must go sore against your heart."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I, who had just come from the folk of the -Cor Water, had no such dread of the hillmen, but I -forebore to say it. For Master Veitch had been -brought up in one school, those men in another. Both -were blind to the other's excellencies; both were -leal-hearted men in their own ways. It is a strange -providence that has so ordered it that the best men in the -world must ever remain apart through misunderstanding.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But to come to my errand," said I. "I have -brought you your niece for protection. You are a -king's man, a soldier, and well known in the -countryside. It is more than unlikely that any troops will -come nigh you. Nor is it possible that the maid can -be traced hither. I ask that you suffer her to abide -in the house, while I take myself off that there be the -less danger. And O, I beseech you, do not refuse -me. She is your own flesh and blood. You cannot -deny her shelter."</p> -<p class="pnext">The old man's face darkened. "You take me for -a strange kinsman, Master Burnet," he said, "if -you think I would refuse my best aid to a kinswoman -in distress. Do you think that you are the sole -protector of my house?"</p> -<p class="pnext">I bowed before his deserved rebuke.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But for certain. Marjory may abide here as long -as she will," he added cheerfully. "We will do our -best to entertain her, though I am too old to -remember well the likings of girls. And if anyone comes -seeking her on errand of no good, by God, he will -learn that William Veitch has not lost the use of his arm.</p> -<p class="pnext">"May I ask," said I, "that my servant be allowed -to stay? He knows the hills as scarce any other -living man, he is faithful, and clever as you would -hardly believe were I to tell you. With him in the -house I should have no fear for its safety."</p> -<p class="pnext">"So be it," said the old man; "I will not deny -that my servants are not so numerous nor so active that -another would not be something of an improvement. -Has he any skill in cooking?" This he asked in -a shamefaced tone, for old as he was he had not lost -his relish for good fare.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I will ask him," said I, and I called Nicol from -the servants' quarters.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Your master gives me a good account of you," -said the cracked voice of the laird of Smitwood, "and -I would fain hope it true. I wished to interrogate -you about—ah, your powers—ah, of cooking pleasing -dishes," and he waved his hand deprecatingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, your honour, I am ready for a' thing," said -Nicol. "Sheep's heid, singit to a thocht, cockyleeky -and a' kind o' soup, mutton in half a dozen different -ways, no to speak o' sic trifles as confections. I can -cook ye the flesh o' the red deer and the troots frae the -burn, forbye haggis and brose, partan pies and rizzard -haddies, crappit-heids and scate-rumpies, nowt's feet, -kebbucks, scadlips, and skink. Then I can wark wi' -custocks and carlings, rifarts, and syboes, farles, fadges, -and bannocks, drammock, brochan, and powsowdie."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That will do, you may go," said the old man, -rubbing his hands with glee. "By my word, a -genuine Scots gastronome, skilled in the ancient dishes of -the land. I anticipate a pleasing time while he bides -here."</p> -<p class="pnext">It was long ere the worthy gentleman could get -over his delight in the project of my servant's -presence. Even after he had gone he sat and chuckled to -himself, for he was known among his friends to have a -fine taste for dainties. Meantime, the light was dying -out of doors, and more logs were laid on the fire, till it -crackled and leaped like a live thing. I have ever -loved the light of a wood-fire, for there is no more -heartsome thing on earth than its cheerful crackle -when one comes in from shooting on the hills in the -darkening of a winter's day. Now I revelled in the -comfort of it, since on the morrow I would have no -other cheer than a flaming sunset.</p> -<p class="pnext">So we sat around the hearth and talked of many -things till the evening was late. The old man fell to -the memories of former folk, and told us tales of our -forbears as would have made them turn in their graves -could they have heard them. Of my house he had -scarce a good word to speak, averring that they were -all 'scape-the-gallows every one, but gallant fellows in -their way. "There was never a Burnet," he cried, -"who would scruple to stick a man who doubted his -word, or who would not ride a hundred miles to aid a -friend. There were no lads like the Burnets in all the -countryside for dicing and feasting and riding -breakneck on the devil's errand. But, Gad, if they were -stubborn as bulls when they were down themselves, -they were as tender as women to folk in trouble."</p> -<p class="pnext">"There's one of their name like to be in trouble -for many days to come," said I.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Meaning yourself? Well, it will do you no ill. -There's naught better for a young man than to find -out how little the world cares whether he be dead or -alive. And, above all, you that pretend to be a -scholar, it will ding some of the fine-spun fancies -out of your head. But for the Lord's sake, laddie, -dinna get a bullet in your skull or you'll have me with -all my years taking the field to pay back them that -did it." He spoke this so kindly that I was moved -to forget the first half of his words through the -excellency of the second. In truth I much needed the -rough lessons of hardship and penury, for at that time -I was much puffed up in a self-conceit and a certain -pride of letters as foolish as it was baseless.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I must be off in the morning before the dawning, -for I have to be on the hills ere the soldiers get abroad. -I must beg of you not to disturb yourself, Master -Veitch, for my sake, but just to bid them make ready -for me some provisions; and I will slip off ere the -household be awake. It is better to say farewell now -than to have many sad leave-takings at the moment -of departure. I have no fear of my journey, for my -legs are as good as any man's and I can make my -hands keep my head. Also, my mind is easy since I -know that Marjory is safe here."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then I will even bid you good-bye, John," -said he, "for I am an old man and keep early hours. -If you will follow me I will take you to your -chamber. Alison will take you to the old room, Marjory, -where you have not been since you were a little lass -scarce up to my knee." And with obvious intent -he walked out.</p> -<p class="pnext">"God keep you, John," my dear lass whispered -on my shoulder. "I will never cease to think of -you. Ana oh, be not long in coming back."</p> -<p class="pnext">And this was the last I saw of my lady for many days.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="of-the-man-with-the-one-eye-and-the-encounter-in-the-green-cleuch">CHAPTER X</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">OF THE MAN WITH THE ONE EYE AND THE -ENCOUNTER IN THE GREEN CLEUCH</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I promise you I slept little that night, and it was -with a heavy heart that I rose betimes and dressed in -the chill of the morning. There was no one awake, -and I left the house unobserved, whistling softly to -keep up my spirits.</p> -<p class="pnext">Just without, someone came behind me and cried -my name. I turned round sharply, and there was -my servant Nicol, slinking after me for all the world -like a collie-dog which its master has left at home.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What do you want with me?" I cried.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Naething," he groaned sadly. "I just wantit -to see ye afore ye gaed. I am awfu' feared, sir, for -you gaun awa' yoursel'. If it werena for Mistress -Marjory, it wad be a deal mair than your word wad -keep me frae your side. But I cam to see if there -was nae way o' gettin' word o' ye. My leddy will -soon turn dowie, gin she gets nae sough o' your -whereabouts. Ye'd better tell me where I can get -some kind o' a letter."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Well minded!" I cried. "You know the -cairn on the backside of Caerdon just above the -rising of Kilbucho Burn. This day three weeks I will -leave a letter for your mistress beneath the stones, -which you must fetch and give her. And if I am safe -and well every three weeks it will be the same. -Good day to you, Nicol, and see you look well to the -charge I have committed to you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Guid day to you, sir," he said, and I protest that -the honest fellow had tears in his eyes; and when I -had gone on maybe half a mile and looked back, he -was still standing like a stone in the same spot.</p> -<p class="pnext">At first I was somewhat depressed in my mind. -It is a hard thing thus to part from one's mistress -when the air is thick with perils to both. So as I -tramped through the meadows and leaped the brooks, -it was with a sad heart, and my whole mind was taken -up in conjuring back the pleasant hours I had spent in -my lady's company, the old frolics in the wood of -Dawyck, the beginnings of our love-making, even the -ride hither from the Cor Water. Yesterday, I -reflected, she was with me here; now I am alone and -like to be so for long. Then I fell to cursing -myself for a fool, and went on my way with a better -heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">But it was not till I had crossed the wide stream -of the Douglas Water and begun to ascend the hills, -that I wholly recovered my composure. Before, I -had been straggling in low meadows which do not -suit my temper, since I am above all things hill-bred -and a lover of dark mountains. So now on the crisp -spring grass of the slopes my spirits rose. Was not I -young and strong and skilled in the accomplishments -of a man? The world was before me—that wide, -undiscovered world which had always attracted the more -heroic spirits. What hardship was there to live a free -life among the hills, under the sunshine and the wind, -the clouds and the blue sky?</p> -<p class="pnext">But my delight could never be unmixed though I -tried. After all, was I free? I felt of a sudden that -I was not one half equipped for a gipsy, adventurous -life. I was tied down to custom and place with too -many ties. I came of a line of landed gentlemen. -The taint of possession, of mastery and lordship over -men and land, was strong in me. I could not bring -me to think of myself as a kinless and kithless -vagabond, having no sure place of abode. Then my love -of letters, my learning, my philosophy, bound me -down with indissoluble bands. To have acquired a -taste for such things was to have unfitted myself for -ever for the life of careless vagabondage. Above all -there was my love; and ever, as I went on, my thoughts -came home from their aërial flights and settled more -and more in a little room in a house in a very little -portion of God's universe. And more and more I -felt myself a slave to beloved tyrants, and yet would -not have been free if I could.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was always thus with me when alone: I must -fall to moralising and self-communing. Still perhaps -the master feeling in my mind was one of curiosity -and lightheartedness. So I whistled, as I went, all -the old tunes of my boyhood which I was wont to -whistle when I went out to the hills with my rod and -gun, and stepped briskly over the short heather, and -snapped my fingers in the face of the world.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I dared not go back to Tweeddale by the way by -which I had come, for the Clyde valley above -Abington would be a hunting-ground of dragoons for many -days. There was nothing for it but to make for the -lower waters, ford the river above Coulter, and then -come to Tweeddale in the lower parts, and thence -make my way to the Water of Cor. Even this course -was not without its dangers; for the lower glen of -Tweed was around Dawyck and Barns, and this was -the very part of all the land the most perilous to me -at the moment. To add to this, I was well at home -among the wilder hills; but it was little I knew of -Clydesdale below Abington, till you come to the town -of Lanark. This may at first seem a trifling -misfortune, but in my present case it was a very great one. -For unless a man knows every house and the character -of its inmates he is like to be in an ill way if close -watched and threatened. However, I dreaded this -the less, and looked for my troubles mainly after I -had once entered my own lands in Tweeddale.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the time when the sun rose I was on a long hill -called Craigcraw, which hangs at the edge of the -narrow crack in the hills through which goes the -bridle-road from Lanark to Moffat. I thought it scarce -worth my while to be wandering aimlessly among -mosses and craigs when something very like a road lay -beneath me; so I made haste to get down and ease -my limbs with the level way. It was but a narrow -strip of grass, running across the darker heath, and -coiling in front like a green ribbon through nick or -scaur or along the broad brae-face.</p> -<p class="pnext">Soon I came to the small, roofless shieling of Redshaw, -where aforetime lived a villain of rare notoriety, -with whose name, "Redshaw Jock," Jean Morran -embittered my childhood. I thought of all these -old pleasing days, as I passed the bare rickle of stones -in the crook of the burn. Here I turned from the -path, for I had no desire to go to Abington, and -struck up a narrow howe in the hills, which from -the direction I guessed must lead to the lower Clyde. -It was a lonesome place as ever I have seen. The -spring sunshine only made the utter desolation the -more apparent and oppressive. Afar on the hillside, -by a clump of rowan trees, I saw the herd's house of -Wildshaw, well named in its remote solitude. But -soon I had come to the head of the burn and mounted -the flat tableland, and in a little came to the decline -on the other side, and entered the glen of the -Roberton Burn.</p> -<p class="pnext">Here it was about the time of noon, and I halted -to eat my midday meal. I know not whether if was -the long walk and the rough scrambling, or the clean, -fresh spring air, or the bright sunshine, or the clear -tinkle of the burn at my feet, or the sense of freedom -and adventurous romance, but I have rarely eaten a -meal with such serene satisfaction. All this -extraordinary day I had been alternating between excessive -gaiety and sad regrets. Now the former element had -the mastery, and I was as hilarious as a young horse -when he is first led out to pasture.</p> -<p class="pnext">And after a little as I sat there my mirth grew into -a sober joy. I remembered all the poets who had -sung of the delights of the open air and the -unshackled life. I laughed at my former feeling of shame -in the matter. Was there any ignominy in being -driven from the baseness of settled habitation to live -like a prince under God's sky? And yet, as I exulted -in the thought, I knew all too well that in a little -my feelings would have changed and I would be in -the depths of despondency.</p> -<p class="pnext">In less than an hour I had turned a corner of hill -and there before me lay the noble strath of Clyde. -I am Tweedside born and will own no allegiance save -to my own fair river, but I will grant that next to -it there is none fairer than the upper Clyde. Were -it not that in its lower course it flows through that -weariful west country among the dull whigamores and -Glasgow traders, it would be near as dear to me as -my own well-loved Tweed. There it lay, glittering -in light, and yellow with that strange yellow glow -that comes on April waters. The little scrubs of -wood were scarce seen, the few houses were not in -the picture; nothing caught the eye save the giant -mouldings of the hills, the severe barren vale, and -the sinuous path of the stream.</p> -<p class="pnext">I crossed it without any mishap, wading easily -through at one of the shallows. There was no one -in sight, no smoke from any dwelling; all was as still -as if it were a valley of the dead. Only from the -upper air the larks were singing, and the melancholy -peewits cried ever over the lower moorlands. From -this place my course was clear; I went up the prattling -Wandel Burn, from where it entered the river, and -soon I was once more lost in the windings of the dark -hills. There is a narrow bridle-path which follows -the burn, leading from Broughton in Tweeddale to -Abington, so the way was easier walking.</p> -<p class="pnext">And now I come to the relation of one of the -strangest adventures of this time, which as often as -I think upon it fills me with delight. For it was a -ray of amusement in the perils and hardships of my -wanderings.</p> -<p class="pnext">A mile or more up this stream, just before the path -begins to leave the waterside and strike towards the -highlands, there is a little green cleuch, very fair and -mossy, where the hills on either side come close and -the glen narrows down to half a hundred yards. -When I came to this place I halted for maybe a -minute to drink at a pool in the rocks, for I was -weary with my long wanderings.</p> -<p class="pnext">A noise in front made me lift my head suddenly -and stare before me. And there riding down the -path to meet me was a man. His horse seemed to -have come far, for it hung its head as if from -weariness and stumbled often. He himself seemed to be -looking all around him and humming some blithe tune. -He was not yet aware of my presence, for he rode -negligently, like one who fancies himself alone. As -he came nearer I marked him more clearly. He was -a man of much my own height, with a shaven chin -and a moustachio on his upper lip. He carried no -weapons save one long basket-handled sword at his -belt. His face appeared to be a network of scars; -but the most noteworthy thing was that he had but -one eye, which glowed bright from beneath bushy -brows. Here, said I to myself, is a man of many -battles.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a moment he caught my eye, and halted abruptly -not six paces away. He looked at me quietly for -some seconds, while his horse, which was a spavined, -broken-winded animal at best, began to crop the grass. -But if his mount was poor, his dress was of the richest -and costliest, and much gold seemed to glisten from -his person.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good day, sir," said he very courteously. "A -fellow-traveller, I perceive." By this time I had -lost all doubt, for I saw that the man was no dragoon, -but of gentle birth by his bearing. So I answered him -readily.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I little expected to meet any man in this deserted -spot, least of all a mounted traveller. How did you -come over these hills, which if I mind right are of the -roughest?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah," he said, "my horse and I have done queer -things before this," and he fell to humming a -fragment of a French song, while his eye wandered -eagerly to my side.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly he asked abruptly: "Sir, do you know -aught of sword-play?"</p> -<p class="pnext">I answered in the same fashion that I was skilled -in the rudiments.</p> -<p class="pnext">He sprang from his horse in a trice and was -coming towards me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Thank God," he cried earnestly, "thank God. -Here have I been thirsting for days to feel a blade in -my hands, and devil a gentleman have I met. I -thank you a thousand times, sir, for your kindness. -I beseech you to draw."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But," I stammered, "I have no quarrel with you."</p> -<p class="pnext">He looked very grieved. "True, if you put it in -that way. But that is naught between gentlemen, -who love ever to be testing each other's prowess. -You will not deny me?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," I said, "I will not," for I began to see -his meaning, and I stripped to my shirt and, taking up -my sword, confronted him.</p> -<p class="pnext">So there in that quiet cleuch we set to with might -and main, with vast rivalry but with no malice. We -were far too skilled to butcher one another like -common rufflers. Blow was given and met, point was -taken and parried, all with much loving kindness. But -I had not been two minutes at the work when I found -I was in the hands of a master. The great conceit -of my play which I have always had ebbed away little -by little. The man before me was fencing easily with -no display, but every cut came near to breaking my -guard, and every thrust to overcoming my defence. -His incomprehensible right eye twinkled merrily, and -discomposed my mind, and gave me no chance of -reading his intentions. It is needless to say more. The -contest lasted scarce eight minutes. Then I made a -head-cut which he guarded skilfully, and when on the -return my blade hung more loose in my hand he smote -so surely and well that, being struck near the hilt, it -flew from my hand and fell in the burn.</p> -<p class="pnext">He flung down his weapon and shook me warmly -by the hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah, now I feel better," said he. "I need -something of this sort every little while to put me in a -good humour with the world. And, sir, let me -compliment you on your appearance. Most admirable, -most creditable! But oh, am I not a master in the -craft?"</p> -<p class="pnext">So with friendly adieux we parted. We had never -asked each other's name and knew naught of each -other's condition, but that single good-natured contest -had made us friends; and if ever I see that one-eyed -man again in life I shall embrace him like a brother. -For myself, at that moment, I felt on terms of -good-comradeship with all, and pursued my way in a settled -cheerfulness.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="how-a-miller-strove-with-his-own-mill-wheel">CHAPTER XI</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">HOW A MILLER STROVE WITH HIS OWN MILL-WHEEL</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I lay that night on the bare moors, with no company -save the birds, and no covering save a dry bush of -heather. The stars twinkled a myriad miles away, -and the night airs blew soft, and I woke in the -morning as fresh as if I had lain beneath the finest -coverlet on the best of linen. Near me was a great -pool in a burn, and there I bathed, splashing to my -heart's content in the cold water. Then I ate my -breakfast, which was no better than the remnants of -the food I had brought away with me the day before -from Smitwood; but I gulped it down heartily and -hoped for something better. There will be so much -complaining, I fear, in my tale ere it is done, that I -think it well to put down all my praise of the place -and the hours which passed pleasingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">By this time I was on a little plateau, near the -great black hill of Coomb Dod, a place whence three -streams flow—the Camps Water and the Coulter -Water to the Clyde, and the burn of Kingledoors to -Tweed. Now here had I been wise I should at once -have gone down the last-named to the upper waters -of Tweed near the village of Tweedsmuir, whence I -might have come without danger to the wilder hills -and the Cor Water hiding-place. But as I stayed -there desire came violently upon me to go down to -the fair green haughlands about the Holmes Water, -which is a stream which rises not far off the -Kingledoors burn, but which flows more to the north and -enters Tweed in the strath of Drummelzier not above -a few miles from Barns itself and almost at the door -of Dawyck. There I knew was the greater danger, -because it lay on the straight line between Abington -and Peebles, a way my cousin Gilbert travelled often -in those days. But I was not disposed at that -moment to think of gradations of danger; and indeed, -after my encounter on the previous afternoon, I was -in a haphazard, roystering mood, and would have asked -for nothing better than a chance of making holes in my -cousin or his company.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now in Holmes Water glen there dwelled many -who would receive me gladly and give me shelter and -food if I sought it. There were the Tweedies of -Quarter and Glencotho, kin to myself on the mother's -side, not to speak of a score of herds whom I had -dealings with. But my uppermost reason was to see -once more that lovely vale, the fairest, unless it be -the Manor, in all the world. It is scarce six miles -long, wide at the bottom and set with trees and rich -with meadows and cornland, but narrowing above to -a long, sinuous green cleft between steep hills. And -through it flows the clearest water on earth, wherein -dwell the best trout—or did dwell, for, as I write, I -have not angled in it for many days. I know not -how I can tell of the Holmes Water. It tumbles -clear and tremulous into dark brown pools. In the -shallows it is like sunlight, in the falls like virgin snow. -And overall the place hangs a feeling of pastoral quiet -and old romance, such as I never knew elsewhere.</p> -<p class="pnext">Midday found me in the nick of the hill above -Glencotho debating on my after course. I had it in -my mind to go boldly in and demand aid from my -kinsman. But I reflected that matters were not -over-pleasant between us at the time. My father had -mortally offended him on some occasion (it would be -hard to name the Tweedside gentleman whom my -father had not mortally angered), and I could scarce -remember having heard that the quarrel had been made -up. I knew that in any case if I entered they would -receive me well for the honour of the name; but I am -proud, and like little to go to a place where I am not -heartily welcome. So I resolved to go to Francie -Smails, the herd's, and from him get direction and -provender.</p> -<p class="pnext">The hut was built in a little turn of the water -beneath a high bank. I knocked at the door, not -knowing whether some soldier might not come to it, -for the dragoons were quartered everywhere. But -no one came save Francie himself, a great, godly man -who lived alone, and cared not for priest or woman. -He cried aloud when he saw me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come in by," he says, "come in quick; this -is nae safe place the noo."</p> -<p class="pnext">And he pulled me in to the hearth, where his mid-day -meal was standing. With great good-will he bade -me share it, and afterward, since he had heard already -of my case and had no need for enlightenment thereon, -he gave me his good counsel.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye maunna bide a meenute here," he said. -"I'll pit up some cauld braxy and bread for ye, for -it's a' I have at this time o' year. Ye maun get oot -o' the glen and aff to the hills wi' a' your pith, for -some o' Maister Gilbert's men passed this morn on -their way to Barns, and they'll be coming back afore -nicht. So ye maun be aff, and I counsel ye to tak -the taps o' the Wormel and syne cross the water abune -the Crook, and gang ower by Talla and Fruid to the -Cor. Keep awa' frae the Clyde hills for ony sake, for -they're lookit like my ain hill i' the lambin' time; -and though it's maybe safer there for ye the noo, in a -wee it'll be het eneuch. But what are ye gaun to -dae? Ye'll be makkin' a try to win ower the sea, for -ye canna skip aboot on thae hills like a paitrick for -ever.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I do not know," said I; "I have little liking -for another sea journey, unless all else is hopeless. I -will bide in the hills as long as I can, and I cannot -think that the need will be long. For I have an -inkling, and others beside me, that queer things will -soon happen."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Guid send they dae," said he, and I bade him -good-bye. I watched him striding off to the hill, and -marvelled at the life ne led. Living from one year's -end to another on the barest fare, toiling hard on the -barren steeps for a little wage, and withal searching his -heart on his long rounds by the canon of the book of -God. A strange life and a hard, yet no man knows -what peace may come out of loneliness.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now had I taken his advice I should have been -saved one of the most vexatious and hazardous -episodes of my life. But I was ever self-willed, and so, -my mind being set on going down the Holmes vale, -I thought nothing of going near the Wormel, but set -off down the bridle way, as if I were a King's privy -councillor and not a branded exile.</p> -<p class="pnext">I kept by the stream till patches of fields began to -appear and the roofs of the little clachan. Then I -struck higher up on the hillside and kept well in the -shade of a little cloud of birk trees which lay along the -edge of the slope. It was a glorious sunny day, such -as I scarce ever saw surpassed, though I have seen many -weathers under many skies. The air was as still and -cool as the first breath of morning, though now it was -mid-afternoon. All the nearer hills stood out clear-lined -and silent; a bird sang in the nigh thicket; sheep -bleated from the meadow, and around the place hung -the low rustle of the life of the woods.</p> -<p class="pnext">Soon I came to a spot above the bend of the water -near the house called Holmes Mill. There dwelt my -very good friend the miller, a man blessed with as -choice a taste in dogs as ever I have seen, and a great -Whig to boot—both of which tricks he learned from a -Westland grandfather. Lockhart was his name, and -his folk came from the Lee near the town of Lanark to -this green Tweedside vale. From the steading came -the sound of life. There was a great rush of water -out of the dam. Clearly the miller was preparing for -his afternoon's labours. The wish took me strongly -to go down and see him, to feel the wholesome smell -of grinding corn, and above all to taste his cakes, -which I had loved of old. So without thinking more -of it, and in utter contempt for the shepherd's -warning, I scrambled down, forded the water, and made my -way to the house.</p> -<p class="pnext">Clearly something was going on at the mill, and -whatever it was there was a great to-do. Sounds of -voices came clear to me from the mill-door, and the -rush of the water sang ever in my ears. The miller -has summoned his family to help him, thought I: -probably it is the lifting of the bags to the mill-loft.</p> -<p class="pnext">But as I came nearer I perceived that it was not a -mere chatter of friendly tongues, but some serious -matter. There was a jangling note, a sound as of a -quarrel and an appeal. I judged it wise therefore to -keep well in the shadow of the wall and to go through -the byre and up to the loft by an old way which I -remembered—a place where one could see all that -passed without being seen of any.</p> -<p class="pnext">And there sure enough was a sight to stagger me. -Some four soldiers with unstrung muskets stood in -the court, while their horses were tethered to a post. -Two held the unhappy miller in their stout grip, and -at the back his wife and children were standing in sore -grief. I looked keenly at the troopers, and as I looked -I remembered all too late the shepherd's words. They -were part of my cousin's company, and one I -recognised as my old friend Jan Hamman of the Alphen -Road and the Cor Water.</p> -<p class="pnext">The foremost of the soldiers was speaking.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whig though you be," said he "you shall hae -a chance of life. You look a man o' muscle. I'll -tell you what I'll dae. Turn on the sluice and set -the mill-wheel gaun, and then haud on to it; and if -you can keep it back, your life you shall hae, as sure -as my name's Tam Gordon. But gin you let it gang, -there'll be four bullets in you afore you're an hour -aulder, and a speedy meeting wi' your Maker. Do -you wish to mak the trial?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Now the task was hopeless from the commencement, -for big though a man be, and the miller was as broad -and high a man as one may see in Tweeddale, he has -no chance against a mill-race. But whether he -thought the thing possible or whether he wanted to -gain a few minutes' respite from death, the man -accepted and took off his coat to the task. He opened -the sluice and went forward to the wheel.</p> -<p class="pnext">Soon the water broke over with a rush and the miller -gripped a spoke like grim death. For a moment the -thing was easy, for it takes some minutes for the -water to gather body and force. But in a little it -became harder, and the sinews on his bare arms began -to swell with the strain. But still he held on valiantly -and the wheel moved never an inch. Soon the sweat -began to run over his face, and the spray from the -resisted water bespattered him plentifully. Then the -strain became terrible. His face grew livid as the -blood surged to his head, his eyeballs stood out, and -his arms seemed like to be torn from their sockets. -The soldiers, with the spirit of cruel children, had -forgot their weapons, and crowded round the wheel -to see the sport.</p> -<p class="pnext">I saw clearly that he could not hold out much -longer, and that unless I wanted to see a friend -butchered before my eyes I had better be up and doing. We -were two resolute men; I armed and with considerable -skill of the sword, he unarmed, but with the strength -of a bull. The most dangerous things about our -opponents were their weapons. Could I but get between -them and their muskets we could make a fight for it yet.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly as I looked the man failed. With a sob -of weariness he loosed his hold. The great wheel -caught the stream and moved slowly round, and he -almost fell along with it. His tormentors laughed -cruelly, and were about to seize him and turn back, -when I leaped from the loft window like some bolt -from a clear sky.</p> -<p class="pnext">My head was in a whirl and I had no thought of -any plan. I only knew that I must make the venture -at any cost, or else be branded in my soul as a -coward till my dying day.</p> -<p class="pnext">I fell and scrambled to my feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Lockhart," I cried, "here man, here. Run."</p> -<p class="pnext">He had the sense to see my meaning. Exhausted -though he was, he broke from his astonished captors, -and in a moment was beside me and the weapons.</p> -<p class="pnext">As I looked on them I saw at a glance where our -salvation lay.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Take these two," I said, pointing to the -muskets. "I will take the others."</p> -<p class="pnext">I cleared my throat and addressed the soldiers. -"Now, gentlemen," said I, "once more the fortune -of war has delivered you into my hands. We, as -you perceive, command the weapons. I beg your -permission to tell you that I am by no means a poor -shot with the musket, and likewise that I do not stick -at trifles, as doubtless my gallant friend Master -Hamman will tell you."</p> -<p class="pnext">The men were struck dumb with surprise to find -themselves thus taken at a disadvantage. They -whispered for a little among themselves. Doubtless the -terrors of my prowess had been so magnified by the -victims in the last escapade to cover their shame that -I was regarded as a veritable Hector.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Are you the Laird of Barns?" said the leader at -last, very politely.</p> -<p class="pnext">I bowed.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then give us leave to tell you that we are nane -sae fond o' the Captain, your cousin," said he, -thinking to soothe me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"So much the worse for my cousin," said I.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Therefore we are disposed to let you gang free."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am obliged," said I, "but my cousin is my -cousin, and I tolerate no rebellion toward one so near -of blood. I am therefore justified, gentlemen, in -using your own arms against you, since I have always -believed that traitors were shot."</p> -<p class="pnext">At this they looked very glum. At last one of -them spoke up—for after all they were men.</p> -<p class="pnext">"If ye'll tak the pick o' ony yin o' us and stand up -to him wi' the sma'-sword, we'll agree to bide by the -result."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I thank you," I said, "but I am not in the -mood for sword exercise. However, I shall be -merciful, though that is a quality you have shown little of. -You shall have your horses to ride home on, but your -arms you shall leave with me as a pledge of your good -conduct. Strip, gentlemen."</p> -<p class="pnext">And strip they did, belt and buckler, pistol and -sword. Then I bade them go, not without sundry -compliments as one by one they passed by me. -There were but four of them, and we had all the -arms, so the contest was scarcely equal. Indeed my -heart smote me more than once that I had not -accepted the fellow's offer to fight. The leader spoke -up boldly to my face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You've gotten the better o' us the noo, but it'll -no be long afore you're gettin' your kail through the -reek, Master John Burnet."</p> -<p class="pnext">At which I laughed and said 'twas a truth I could -not deny.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-witness-a-valiant-ending">CHAPTER XII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I WITNESS A VALIANT ENDING</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">They had scarce been five minutes gone when the -full folly of my action dawned upon me. To be sure -I had saved the miller from death, but I had now put -my own neck in the noose. I had given them a clue -to my whereabouts: more, I had brought the hunt -down on lower Tweeddale, which before had been left -all but unmolested. It was war to the knife. I could -look for no quarter, and my only chance lay in -outstripping my pursuers. The dragoons dared not return -immediately, for four unarmed soldiers would scarcely -face two resolute men, fully armed and strongly -posted. They could only ride to Abington, and bring -the whole hornets' nest down on my head.</p> -<p class="pnext">Another reflection had been given to me by the -sight of these men. In all likelihood Gilbert had -now returned and resumed the chief command of the -troop, for otherwise there would have been no -meaning in the journey to Dawyck and lower Tweeddale -which these fellows had taken. And now that my -dear cousin had come back I might look for action. -There was now no more any question of foolish and -sluggish soldiery to elude, but a man of experience -and, as I knew well, of unmatched subtlety.</p> -<p class="pnext">The miller was for thanking me on his knees for my -timely succour, but I cut him short. "There is no -time," said I, "for long thanks. You must take -to the hills, and if you follow my advice you will hold -over to the westlands where your friends are, and so -keep the pursuit from Tweeddale, which little -deserves it. As for myself, I will go up the Wormel, -and hide among the scrogs of birk till evening. For -the hills are too bare and the light too clear to travel -by day. To be kenspeckle in these times is a -doubtful advantage."</p> -<p class="pnext">So without more ado I took myself off, crossed the -fields with great caution, and going up a little glen in -the side of the big hill, found a very secure hiding-place -in the lee of a craig among a tangle of hazel bushes. -I had taken some food with me from the mill to -provision me during my night journey, and now I used -a little of it for my afternoon meal. In this place I -lay all the pleasant hours after midday till I saw the -shadows lengthen and the sun flaming to its setting -over the back of Caerdon. Then the cool spring -darkness came down on the earth, and I rose and -shook myself and set out on my way.</p> -<p class="pnext">I shall ever remember that long night walk over -hill and dale to the Cor Water for many reasons. -First, from the exceeding beauty of the night, which -was sharp and yet not cold, with a sky glittering -with stars, and thin trails of mist on the uplands. -Second, from the exceeding roughness of the way, -which at this season of the year makes the hills hard -for walking on. The frost and snow loosen the rocks, -and there are wide stretches of loose shingle, which -is an accursed thing to pass over. Third, and above -all, for the utter fatigue into which I fell just past the -crossing of Talla. The way was over the Wormel -and the Logan Burn hills as far as Kingledoors. -There I forded Tweed and struck over the low ridge -to Talla Water. Thence the way was straight, and -much the same as that which I had come with -Marjory. But now I had no such dear escort, and I give -my word that my limbs ached and my head swam -oftentimes ere I reached my journey's end.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was early dawning when I crossed the last ridge -and entered the Cor Water valley. There was no sign -of life in that quiet green glen, a thing that seemed -eerie when one thought that somewhere in the hill in -front men were dwelling. I found that short as had -been my absence I had almost forgotten the entrance -to the cave, and it was not without difficulty that I -made out the narrow aperture in the slate-grey rock, -and entered.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the first chamber all was dark, which struck me -with astonishment, since at five o'clock on a good -spring day folk should be stirring. But all was still, -and it was not till I had come into the second chamber, -which, as I have told, was the largest in the place, -that there were any signs of life. This was illumined -in the first instance by a narrow crevice in the -rock which opened into a small ravine. The faint -struggling light was yet sufficient to see with, and by -its aid I made out the old man who had spoken with -me on that first night of my journey.</p> -<p class="pnext">He was sitting alone, staring before him as is the -way with the blind, but at the sound of my steps he -rose slowly to his feet. One could see that the -natural acuteness of his hearing was little impaired by -years. I paused at the threshold and he stood listening; -then he sank back in his seat as if convinced it -was no enemy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Come in, John Burnet," he said, "I ken you -well. How have you fared since you left us? I -trust you have placed the maid in safe keeping."</p> -<p class="pnext">I had heard before of that marvellous quickness of -perception which they possess who have lost some -other faculty; but I had never yet had illustration of -it. So I was somewhat surprised, as I told him that -all as yet was well, and that my lady was in good -hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It is well," said he; "and, Master Burnet, I fear -you have come back to a desolate lodging. As ye -see, all are gone and only I am left. Yestreen word -came that that had happened which we had long -expected. There was once a man among us whom we -cast out for evil living. He has proved the traitor -and there is no more safety here. They scattered last -night, the puir feckless folk, to do for themselves -among the moors and mosses, and I am left here to -wait for the coming of the enemy."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you hold your life so cheap," I cried, "that -you would cast it away thus? I dare not suffer you -to bide here. I would be a coward indeed if I did -not take care of you."</p> -<p class="pnext">A gleam of something like pleasure passed over his -worn face. But he spoke gravely. "No, you are -too young and proud and hot in blood. You think -that a strong arm and a stout heart can do all. But -I have a work to do in which none can hinder me. -My life is dear to me, and I would use it for the best. -But you, too, are in danger here; the soldiers may -come at any moment. If you go far to the back -you'll find a narrow way up which you can crawl. -It'll bring ye out on the back side of the hill. Keep -it well in mind, lad, when the time comes. But -now, sit ye down, and give us your crack. There's -a heap o' things I want to speir at ye. And first, -how is auld Veitch at Smitwood? I once kenned -him well, when he was a young, 'prising lad; but -now I hear he's sair fallen in years and gien ower to -the pleasures of eating and drinking."</p> -<p class="pnext">I told him all of the laird of Smitwood that I could -remember.</p> -<p class="pnext">"It would be bonny on the muirs o' Clyde in this -weather. I havena been out o' doors for mony a day, -but I would like fine to feel the hill-wind and the sun -on my cheek. I was aye used wi' the open air," and -his voice had a note of sorrow.</p> -<p class="pnext">To me it seemed a strange thing that in the -presence of the most deadly danger this man should be so -easy and undisturbed. I confess that I myself had -many misgivings and something almost approaching -fear. There was no possibility of escape now, for -though one made his way out of the cave when the -soldiers came, there was little hiding on the bare -hillside. This, of course, was what the old man meant -when he bade me stay and refused to go out of doors. -It was more than I could do to leave him, but yet I -ever feared the very thought of dying like a rat in a -hole. My forebodings of my death had always been -of an open, windy place, with a drawn sword and -more than one man stark before me. It was with -downcast eyes that I waited for the inevitable end, -striving to commend my soul to God and repent of -my past follies.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly some noise came to the quick ear of the -old man, and he stood up quivering.</p> -<p class="pnext">"John," he cried, "John, my lad, gang to the -place I told ye. Ye'll find the hole where I said it was, -and once there ye needna fear."</p> -<p class="pnext">'Twas true, I was afraid, but I had given no signs -of fear, and he had little cause to speak of it. "Nay," -I said haughtily, "I will not move from your -side. It were a dastardly thing to leave you, and the -two of us together may account for some of the -fiends. Besides there is as much chance of life here -as out on the braeside, where a man can be seen -for miles."</p> -<p class="pnext">He gripped me fiercely by the arm so that I almost -cried out for pain, and his voice came shrill and -strange. "Gang where I tell ye, ye puir fool. Is -this a time for sinfu' pride o' honour or mettle? Ye -know not what evil is coming upon these men. Gang -quick lest ye share it also."</p> -<p class="pnext">Something in his voice, in his eye, overcame me, -and I turned to obey him.</p> -<p class="pnext">As I went he laid his hand on my head. "The -blessing o' man availeth little, but I pray God that He -be ever near you and your house, and that ye may -soon hae a happy deliverance from all your afflictions. -God bless and keep ye ever, and bring ye at the end -to His ain place."</p> -<p class="pnext">With a heart beating wildly between excitement -and sorrow I found the narrow crevice, and crept -upward till I came to the turning which led to the air. -Here I might have safely hid for long, and I was just -on the point of going back to the old man and forcing -him to come with me to the same place of refuge, -when I heard the sound of men.</p> -<p class="pnext">From my vantage-ground I could see the whole -cave clearly and well. I could hear the noise of -soldiers fumbling about the entrance, and the voice of -the informer telling the way. I could hear the feet -stumbling along the passage, the clink of weapons, -and the muttered words of annoyance; and then, as -I peered warily forth, I saw the band file into the -cave where sat the old man alone. It was as I -expected: they were some twenty men of my cousin's -company, strangers to me for the most: but what -most occupied my thoughts was that Gilbert was not -with them.</p> -<p class="pnext">"By God, they're off," said the foremost, "and -nothing left but this auld dotterel. This is a puir -haul. Look you here, you fellow," turning to the -guide, "you are a liar and a scoundrel, and if your -thick hide doesna taste the flat o' my sword ere you're -five hours aulder, my name's no Peter Moriston. -You," this to the old man, "what's your name, -brother well-beloved in the Lord?"</p> -<p class="pnext">At their first coming he had risen to his feet and -taken his stand in the middle of the cave, by the two -great stone shafts which kept up the roof, for all the -word like the pillars in some mighty temple. There -he stood looking over their heads at something beyond, -with a strange, almost pitying smile, which grew by -degrees into a frown of anger.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ye've come here to taunt me," said he, "but -the Lord has prepared for you a speedy visitation. -Puir fools, ye shall go down quick to the bottomless -pit like Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, and none shall -be left to tell the tale of you. Ye have led braw -lives. Ye have robbed the widow and the fatherless, -ye have slain by your numbers men ye darena have -come near singly, ye have been the devil's own -braw servants, and, lads, ye'll very soon get your -wages. Ye have made thae bonny lands o' Tweedside -fit to spew ye forth for your wickedness. And -ye think that there is nae jealous God in Heaven -watching ower you and your doings and biding His time to -repay. But, lads, ye're wrang for yince. The men -ye thocht to take are by this time far from ye, and -there is only one left, an auld feckless man, that will -no bring muckle credit to ye. But God has ordained -that ye shall never leave here, but mix your banes to -a' time wi' the hillside stanes. God hae pity on your -souls, ye that had nae pity on others in your lives."</p> -<p class="pnext">And even as I watched, the end came, sudden and -awful. Stretching out his great arms, he caught the -two stone shafts and with one mighty effort pushed -them asunder. I held my breath with horror. With -a roar like a world falling the roof came down, and -the great hillside sank among a ruin of rock. I was -blinded by dust even in my secure seat, and driven -half-mad with terror and grief. I know not how I -got to the air, but by God's good providence the -passage where I lay was distinct from the cave, and a rift -in the solid rock. As it was, I had to fight with -falling splinters and choking dust all the way. At -last—and it seemed ages—I felt free air and a glimmer of -light, and with one fresh effort crawled out beneath -a tuft of bracken.</p> -<p class="pnext">And this is why at this day there is no cave at the -Cor Water, nothing but the bare side of a hill strewn -with stones.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I gained breath to raise myself and look -around, the sight was strange indeed. The vast cloud -of dust was beginning to settle and the whole desolation -lay clear. I know not how to tell of it. It was -like some battlefield of giants of old time. Great -rocks lay scattered amid the beds of earth and shingle, -and high up toward the brow of the hill one single -bald scarp showed where the fall had begun.</p> -<p class="pnext">A hundred yards away, by his horse's side, gazing -with wild eyes at the scene, stood a dragoon, -doubtless the one whom the ill-fated company had set for -guard. I hastened toward him as fast as my weak -knees would carry me, and I saw without surprise that -he was the Dutchman, Jan Hamman, whom I had -already met thrice before. He scarce was aware of -my presence, but stood weeping with weakness and -terror, and whimpering like a child. I took him by -the shoulder and shook him, until at last I had brought -him back to his senses, and he knew me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where are they gone?" and he pointed feebly -with his finger to the downfall.</p> -<p class="pnext">"To their own place," I said, shortly. "But tell -me one word. Where is your captain, Gilbert Burnet, -that he is not with you to-day?"</p> -<p class="pnext">The man looked at me curiously.</p> -<p class="pnext">"He is gone on another errand, down Tweed -toward Peebles."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then I knew he was seeking for Marjory high and -low and would never rest till he found her.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I will let you go," said I to the man, "that you -may carry the tidings to the rest. Begone with you -quick. I am in no mood to look on such as you this day."</p> -<p class="pnext">The man turned and was riding off, when he -stopped for one word. "You think," he said, "that -I am your enemy and your cousin's friend, and that I -serve under the captain for his own sweet sake. I will -tell you my tale. Three years ago this Captain -Gilbert Burnet was in Leyden, and there also was I, a -happy, reputable man, prosperous and contented, with -the prettiest sweetheart in all the town. Then came -this man. I need not tell what he did. In a year he -had won over the silly girl to his own desires, and I -was a ruined man for evermore. I am a servant in -his company who worked my fall. Remember then -that the nearer I am to Gilbert Burnet the worse it -will fare with him." And he rode off, still pale and -shivering with terror.</p> -<p class="pnext">I mused for some time with myself. Truly, -thought I, Gilbert has his own troubles, and it will -go hard with him if his own men turn against him. -And I set it down in my mind that I would do my -best to warn him of the schemes of the foreigner. -For though it was my cousin's own ill-doing that had -brought him to this, and my heart burned against him -for his villainy, it was yet right that a kinsman should -protect one of the house against the plots of a -common soldier.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-run-a-narrow-escape-for-my-life">CHAPTER XIII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I RUN A NARROW ESCAPE FOR MY LIFE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">This was in April, and now the summer began to -grow over the land. The days grew longer and the -air more mild, the flowers came out on the hills, little -mountain pansies and eyebright and whortleberry, and -the first early bells of the heath; the birds reared their -young and the air was all filled with the cries of them; -and in the streams the trout grew full-fleshed and -strong.</p> -<p class="pnext">And all through these days I lay close hid in the -wilds, now in one place, now in another, never -wandering far from Tweeddale. My first hiding was in -a narrow glen at the head of the Polmood Burn in a -place called Glenhurn. It was dark and lonesome, -but at first the pursuit was hot after me and I had no -choice in the matter. I lived ill on the fish of the -burn and the eggs of wildfowl, with what meal I got -from a shepherd's house at the burn foot. These -were days of great contemplation, of long hours spent -on my back in the little glen of heather, looking up -to the summer sky and watching the great clouds -fleeting athwart it. No sound came to disturb me, I had -few cares to vex me; it was like that highest state of -being which Plotinus spoke of, when one is cumbered -not with the toils of living. Here I had much grave -communing with myself on the course of my life, now -thinking upon it with approval, now much concerned -at its futility. I had three very warring moods of -mind. One was that of the scholar, who would flee -from the roughness of life. This came upon me -when I thought of the degradation of living thus in -hiding, of sorting with unlettered men, of having no -thoughts above keeping body and soul together. The -second was that of my father's son, whose pride -abhorred to flee before any man and hide in waste places -from low-born soldiers and suffer others to devour my -patrimony. But the third was the best, and that -which I ever sought to keep with me. It was that of -the gentleman and cavalier who had a wide, -good-humoured outlook upon the world, who cared not for -houses and lands, but sought above all things to guard -his honour and love. When this was on me I laughed -loud at all my misfortunes, and felt brave to meet -whatever might come with a light heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">In this place I abode till near the middle of the -month of June. Twice I had gone to the cairn on -Caerdon and left a letter, which I wrote with vast -difficulty on fragments of paper which I had brought -with me, and received in turn Marjory's news. She -was well and in cheerful spirits, though always -longing for my return. The days passed easily in -Smitwood, and as none came there she was the better -hidden. I wrote my answers to these letters with -great delight of mind, albeit much hardship. The -ink in the inkhorn which I had always carried with -me soon became dry, and my pen, which I shaped -from a curlew's feather, was never of the best. Then -after the writing came the long journey, crouching in -thickets, creeping timorously across the open spaces, -running for dear life down the hill-slopes, until I -came at length to the cairn on Caerdon, and hid the -letter 'neath the grey stones.</p> -<p class="pnext">But about mid June I bethought me that I had -stayed long enough in that lonely place and resolved -to move my camp. For one thing I wished to get -nearer Barns, that I might be within reach of my -house for such provisions as I required. Also there -were signs that the place was no longer safe. Several -times of late I had heard the voice of soldiers on the -moors above my hiding, and at any moment a chance -dragoon might stray down the ravine. So late one -evening about midsummer I bade adieu to the dark -Glenhurn, and took off across the wild hills to the -lower vale of Tweed.</p> -<p class="pnext">The place I chose was just at the back of Scrape, -between that mountain and a wild height called the -Pyke-stone hill. It was a stretch of moss-hags and -rough heather, dry as tinder at this time, but, as I -well knew, in late autumn and winter a treacherous -flow. Thither I had been wont to go to the -duck-shooting in the months of November and February, -when great flocks of mallard and teal settled among -the pools. Then one has to look well to his feet, -for if he press on eager and unthinking, he is like to -find himself up to the armpits. But if he know the -way of the thing, and walk only on the tufted rushes -and strips of black peat, he may take the finest sport -that I know of. Here then I came, for the place -was high and lonesome, and with a few paces I could -come to the top of the Little Scrape and see the whole -vale of Tweed from Drummelzier to Neidpath. I -had the less fear of capture, for the place was almost -impassable for horses; also it was too near the house -of Barns to be directly suspected, and the country -below it was still loyal and with no taint of whiggery.</p> -<p class="pnext">Here then I settled myself, and made a comfortable -abode in a dry burn-channel, overarched with long -heather. The weather was unusually warm and dry, -the streams were worn to a narrow thread of silver -trickling among grey stones, and the hot sun blazed -from morn to night in a cloudless sky. The life, on -the whole, was very pleasing. There was cold water -from a mossy well hard by when I was thirsty. As -for food, I made at once an expedition to the nearest -cottage on my lands, where dwelt one Robin Sandilands, -who straightway supplied all my needs and gave -me much useful information to boot. Afterwards he -came every second day to a certain part of the hill -with food, which he left there for me to take at my -convenience. Hence the fare was something better -than I had had in my previous hiding-place. Also it -was a cheerful life. Up there on the great flat -hill-top, with nothing around me but the sky and the -measureless air, with no noises in my ear but the -whistle of hill-birds, with no view save great shoulders -of mountain, the mind was raised to something higher -and freer than of old. Earthly troubles and little -squabbles and jealousies seemed of less account. The -more than Catonian gravity of these solemn uplands -put to flight all pettiness and small ambition. It has -been an immemorial practice in our borderland that -those of ruined fortunes, broken men, should take to -the hills for concealment, if need be, and in any case -for satisfaction. Verily twelve months of that pure -air would make a gentleman of a knave, and a hero of -the most sordid trader.</p> -<p class="pnext">However, ere June had merged in July, I found -myself in want of some companion to cheer my -solitude. I would have given much for some like-minded -fellow-wayfarer, but since that might not be had I -was fain to content myself with a copy of Plotinus, -which I had got with all the difficulty in the world -from the house of Barns. It happened on a warm -afternoon, when, as I lay meditating as was my wont -in the heather, a great desire came upon me for some -book to read in. Nothing would do but that I must -straightway set out for Barns at the imminent peril of -my own worthless life. It was broad daylight; men -were working in the fields at the hay; travellers were -passing on the highway; and for all I knew soldiers -were in the house. But with a mad recklessness I -ventured on the quest, and, entering the house boldly, -made my way to the library and was choosing books. -Then I was startled by the noise of approaching steps, -and seizing hastily the first volume I could lay hands -on, set off for the hills at the top of my speed. The -visit had renewed old recollections, and I spent a -bitter evening reflecting upon my altered position.</p> -<p class="pnext">But toward the end of August, when the nights grew -longer and the sunsets stormy, a change came over -the weather. The Lammas floods first broke the spell -of the drought, and for three clear days the rain fell -in torrents, while I lay in my hole, cold and -shivering. These were days of suffering and hunger, -though I shrink from writing of them and have never -told them to anyone. On the fourth I made an -incursion down to my own lands to the cottage of my -ally. There I heard evil news. The soldiers had -come oftener than of late and the hunt had been -renewed. The reward on my head had been doubled, -and with much sorrow I had the news that the miller -of Holmes Mill had been taken and carried to -Edinburgh. In these dim grey days my courage fell, and -it took all the consolations of philosophy, all my -breeding and manly upbringing to keep up my heart. Also -it became more difficult to go at the three weeks' end -to the cairn on Caerdon with the letter for Marjory.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was, as far as I remember, for I did not keep -good count, on the second day of September, that I -set out for Caerdon on my wonted errand. I had had -word from Robin Sandilands that the countryside was -perilous; but better, I thought, that I should run into -danger than that my lady should have any care on my -account. So I clapped the written letter in my pocket -and set out over the hills in a fine storm of wind.</p> -<p class="pnext">I went down the little burn of Scrape, which flows -into Powsail about a mile above the village of -Drummelzier. Had I dared I would have crossed the low -lands just above the village, and forded Tweed at -Merlin's Grave, and so won to Caerdon by Rachan -and Broughton. But now it behooved me to be cautious, -so I kept straight over the hills; and, striking -the source of a stream called Hopecarton, followed it -to where it joined the river in the Mossfennan haughs. -All the time the wind whistled in my teeth and the -sharpest of showers bit into my skin. I was soon -soaked to the bone, for which I cared very little, but -pushed steadfastly on through the rapidly-rising waters -of Tweed, and scrambled up the back of the Wormel. -Here it was stiff work, and my legs ached mightily ere -I reached the top and flung myself on the damp -heather to spy out the Holmes valley.</p> -<p class="pnext">All seemed quiet. The stream, now changed from -its clearness to a muddy brown, was rolling on its way -though the fields of stubble. The few houses smoked -in peace. The narrow road was empty of travellers.... -Without hesitation I ran down the slopes, -caring not to look circumspectly to the left and -right....</p> -<p class="pnext">I had not run far till something before me brought -me to a halt and sent me flat among the grass. Just -below the house of Quarter, coming from the cover of -the trees, were half a score of soldiers.</p> -<p class="pnext">My first thought was to turn back and give up the -project. My second, to go forward and find a way to -cross the valley. Happily the foliage was still there, -the heath was still long, the grass was dense: a man -might succeed in crossing under cover.</p> -<p class="pnext">With a beating heart I crawled through the heather -to the rushes beside a little stream. This I followed, -slowly, painfully, down to the valley, looking sharply -at every bare spot, and running for dear life when -under cover of bank or brae. By and by I struck the -road, and raised myself for a look. All was quiet. -There was no sign of any man about, nothing but the -beating of the rain and the ceaseless wind. It was -possible that they had gone down the vale, and were by -this time out of sight. Or maybe they had gone up -the water on their way to the moors of Clyde. Or -still again they might have gone back to the house of -Quarter, which they doubtless loved better than the -rainy out-of-doors. In any case they were not there, -and nothing hindered me from making a bold sally -across the open.</p> -<p class="pnext">I rose and ran through the corn-field, cleaving my -way amid the thick stubble. The heavy moisture -clung to my soaked clothes and the sweat ran over -my face and neck, but I held straight on till I gained -the drystone dyke at the other side and scrambled -across it. Here I fell into the stream and was soaked -again, but the place was not deep and I was soon -through. Now I was direct beneath the house, but -somewhat under the cover of the trees; and still there -was no sign of man and beast. I began to think that -after all my eyes had deceived me, and taken nowt -for dragoons. Such a trick was not impossible; I -had found it happen before at the winter's shooting. -With this pleasing hope I straightened my back and -ran more boldly up the planting's side till I gained -the moorlands above. Here I paused for a second to -enjoy my success and look back upon the house.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly something cracked in the thicket, and a -voice behind me cried, "Stop. Gang another step -and I fire." So the cup of safety was dashed from -my lips at the very moment of tasting it.</p> -<p class="pnext">I did not obey, but dashed forward to the high moors -with all my speed. It was conceivable that the men -were unmounted and their horses stabled, in which -case I might get something of a lead. If not, I -should very soon know by the clear convincing proof -of a shot in my body.</p> -<p class="pnext">My guess was right, and it was some little time ere -I heard the cries of pursuers behind me. I had made -straight for the top of the ridge where the ground was -rough for horses, and I knew that they could not -follow me with any speed. I was aye a swift runner, -having been made long and thin in the shanks and -somewhat deep-chested. I had often raced on the -lawn at Barns with my cousin for some trifling prize. -Now I ran with him again, but for the prize of my -own life.</p> -<p class="pnext">I cannot tell of that race, and to this day the thought -of it makes my breath go faster. I only know that I -leaped and stumbled and ploughed my way over the -hillside, sobbing with weariness and with my heart -almost bursting my ribs. I never once looked -behind, but I could measure the distance by the sound -of their cries. The great, calm face of Caerdon was -always before me, mocking my hurry and feebleness. -If I could but gain the ridge of it, I might find -safety in one of the deep gullies. Now I had hope, -now I had lost it and given myself up for as good as -dead. But still I kept on, being unwilling that -anyone should see me yield, and resolving that if I needs -must die I would stave it off as long as might be.</p> -<p class="pnext">In the end, after hours—or was it minutes?—I -reached the crest and crawled down the other side. -They were still some distance behind and labouring -heavily. Near me was a little ravine down which a -slender trickle of flood-water fell in a long cascade. -I plunged down it, and coming to a shelter of -overlapping rock crawled far in below, and thanked God -for my present safety.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then I remembered my errand and my letter. I -clapped my hand to my pocket to draw it forth. The -place was empty—the letter was gone. With a sickening -horror I reflected that I had dropped it as I ran, -and that my enemies must have found it.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-fall-in-with-strange-friends">CHAPTER XIV</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I FALL IN WITH STRANGE FRIENDS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I lay there, still with fright and anxiety, while the -wind roared around my hiding-place, and the noise of -the horses' feet came to my ears. My first thought -was to rush out and meet them, engage the company -and get the letter back by force. But a moment's -reflection convinced me that this was equal to rushing -on my death. There was nothing for it but to bide -where I was, and pray that I might not be discovered.</p> -<p class="pnext">The noise grew louder, and the harsh voices of the -men echoed in the little glen. I lay sweating with -fear and I know not what foreboding, as I heard the -clatter of hooves among the slates and the heavy tread -of those who had dismounted and were searching every -tuft of heather. I know not to this day how I -escaped. It may be that their eyes were blinded with -mist and rain; it may be that my hiding-place was -securer than I thought, for God knows I had no time -to choose it; it may be that their search was but -perfunctory, since they had got the letter; it may be that -they thought in their hearts that I had escaped ever -the back of Caerdon and searched only to satisfy their -leader. At any rate, in a little all was still, save for -the sound of distant voices, and with vast caution and -great stiffness of body I drew myself from the hole.</p> -<p class="pnext">I have rarely felt more utterly helpless and downcast. -I had saved my skin, but only by a hairbreadth, -and in the saving of it I had put the match to my -fortunes. For that luckless letter gave the man into -whose hands it might fall a clue to Marjory's whereabouts. -It is true that the thing was slight, but still it -was there, and 'twas but a matter of time till it was -unravelled. All was up with me. Now that I was -thus isolated on Caerdon and the far western ridges -of the Tweedside hills I could have little hope of -getting free, for to return to safety I must cross either -Holmes Water, which was guarded like a street, or -the lower Tweed, which, apart from the fact that it -was in roaring flood, could no more be passed by me -than the gates of Edinburgh. But I give my word -it was not this that vexed me; nay, I looked -forward to danger, even to capture, with something -akin to hope. But the gnawing anxiety gripped me -by the throat that once more my poor lass would be -exposed to the amenities of my cousin, and her easy, -quiet life at Smitwood shattered forever. An -unreasoning fit of rage took me, and I dashed my foot on -the heather in my hopeless vexation. I cursed every -soldier, and damned Gilbert to the blackest torments -which my heart could conjure.</p> -<p class="pnext">But rage, at the best, is vain and I soon ceased. It -was indeed high time that I should be bestirring myself. -I could not stay where I was, for in addition to being -without food or decent shelter, I was there on the -very confines of the most dangerous country. Not -two miles to the north from the place where I lay the -hills ceased, and the low-lying central moorlands -succeeded, which, as being a great haunt of the more -virulent Whigs, were watched by many bands of -dragoons. If my life were to be saved I must get back -once more to the wild heights of the upper Tweed.</p> -<p class="pnext">I climbed the gully and, keeping lower down the -hill, made for the mountain, named Coulter Fell, -which is adjacent to Caerdon. I know not why I -went this way, save through a fantastic idea of getting -to the very head of the Holmes Water and crossing -there. Every step I took led me into more perilous -ground, for it took me farther to the westward. It -was my sole chance, and in the teeth of the wind I -wrestled on over the long heather and grey sklidders, -slipping and stumbling with weariness and dispirit. -Indeed I know not if anything could have sustained -me save the motto of my house, which came always to -my mind. <em class="italics">Virescit vulnere virtus</em>! The old proud -saw cheered my heart wondrously. I shall not shame -my kin, said I to myself; it shall never be said that -misfortune did aught to one of my name save raise -his valour.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I reached the head of the ridge I thought that -the way was clear before me and that I had outdistanced -my pursuers. I stood up boldly on the summit -and looked down on the Holmes Water head. The -next minute I had flung myself flat again and was -hastening to retrace my steps. For this was what I saw. -All up the stream at irregular intervals dragoons were -beating the heather in their quest for me. Clearly -they thought that I had made for the low ground. -Clearly, also, there was no hope of escape in that -quarter.</p> -<p class="pnext">With a heavy heart I held along the bald face of the -great Coulter Fell. I know no more heartless mountain -on earth than that great black scarp, which on that -day flung its head far up into the mist. The storm, -if anything, had increased in fury. Every now and -then there came a burst of sharp hail, and I was fain -to shelter for a moment by lying on the earth. Very -circumspectly I went, for I knew not when through -the wall of mist a gleam of buff coats or steel might -meet me. In such a fashion, half-creeping, half -running, I made my way down the hills which flank the -Coulter Water, and came at length to the range of low -hills which look down upon Biggar and the lowlands -of Clyde.</p> -<p class="pnext">I struggled to the top and looked over into the misty -haughs. The day was thick, yet not so thick that I -could not see from this little elevation the plain features -of the land below. I saw the tail trees of Coulter -House and the grey walls and smoking chimney. -Beyond was the road, thick in mud, and with scarce a -traveller. All seemed quiet, and as I looked a wild -plan came into my head. Why should I not go -through the very den of the lion? What hindered me -from going down by the marsh of Biggar and the woods -of Rachan, and thence to my hiding-place? It was -the high roads that were unwatched in these days, and -the byways which had each their sentinel.</p> -<p class="pnext">But as I looked again the plan passed from my -mind. For there below, just issuing from the gateway -of Coulter House, I saw a man on horseback, and -another, and still another. I needed no more. A -glance was sufficient to tell me their character and -purport. Gilbert verily had used his brains to better -advantage than I had ever dreamed of. He had fairly -outwitted me, and the three airts of north and south -and west were closed against me.</p> -<p class="pnext">There still remained the east, and thither I turned. -I was shut in on a triangle of hill and moorland, some -three miles in length and two in breadth. At the east -was the spur of hill at the foot of the Holmes Water -and above the house of Rachan. If I went thither I -might succeed in crossing the breadth of the valley and -win to the higher hills. It was but a chance, and in -my present weakness I would as soon have laid me -down on the wet earth and gone to sleep. But I -forced myself to go on, and once more I battled with -the snell weather.</p> -<p class="pnext">I do not very well remember how I crossed the -Kilbucho glen, and stumbled through the maze of little -streams and sheep drains which cover all the place. I -had no more stomach for the work than an old dog has -for coursing. To myself I could give no reason for -my conduct save a sort of obstinacy which would not -let me give in. At a place called Blendewing I lay -down on my face and drank pints of water from the -burn—a foolish action, which in my present condition -was like to prove dangerous. In the pine-wood at the -back of the shieling I laid me down for a little to rest, -and when once more I forced myself to go on, I was -as stiff as a ship's figure-head. In this state I climbed -the little hills which line the burn, and came to the -limit of the range above the place called Whiteslade.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was now about two o'clock in the afternoon, and -the storm, so far from abating, grew every moment -in fierceness. I began to go hot and cold all over -alternately, and the mist-covered hills were all blurred -to my sight like a boy's slate. Now, by Heaven, -thought I, things are coming at last to a crisis. I -shall either die in a bog-hole, or fall into my cousin's -hands before this day is over. A strange perverted -joy took possession of me. I had nothing now to -lose, my fortunes were so low that they could sink no -farther; I had no cause to dread either soldier or -weather. And then my poor silly head began to -whirl, and I lost all power of anticipation.</p> -<p class="pnext">To this day I do not know how I crossed the foot -of the Holmes valley—for this was what I did. The -place was watched most jealously, for Holmes Mill -was there, and the junction of the roads to the upper -Tweed and the moors of Clyde. But the thing was -achieved, and my next clear remembrance is one of -crawling painfully among the low birk trees-and cliffs -on the far side of the Wormel. My knees and hands -were bleeding, and I had a pain in my head so -terrible that I forgot all other troubles in this supreme -one.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was now drawing towards evening. The grey -rain-clouds had become darker and the shadows crept -over the sodden hills. All the world was desert to -me, where there was no shelter. Dawyck and Barns -were in the hands of the enemy. The cave of the -Cor Water was no more. I had scarce strength -to reach my old hiding-place in the hags above Scrape, -and if I did get there I had not the power to make -it habitable. A gravelled and sanded couch with a -heathery roof is pleasant enough in the dry weather, -but in winter it is no better than a bog-hole.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nevertheless I slid down the hill as best I could -and set myself to crossing the valley. It was -half-filled with water pools which the flood had left, and -at the far side I saw the red, raging stream of Tweed. -I remember wondering without interest whether I -should ever win over or drown there. It was a matter -of little moment to me. The fates had no further -power to vex me.</p> -<p class="pnext">But ere I reached the hillfoot I saw something -which gave me pause, reckless though I had come to -be. On the one hand there was a glimpse of men -coming up the valley—mounted men, riding orderly -as in a troop. On the other I saw scattered -soldiers dispersing over the haughland. The thought -was borne in upon me that I was cut off at last from -all hope of escape. I received the tidings with no -fear, scarcely with surprise. My sickness had so -much got the better of me that though the heavens had -opened I would not have turned my head to them. -But I still staggered on, blindly, nervelessly, -wondering in my heart how long I would keep on my feet.</p> -<p class="pnext">But now in the little hollow I saw something -before me, a glimpse of light, and faces lit by the glow. -I felt instinctively the near presence of men. -Stumbling towards it I went, groping my way as if I were -blindfold. Then some great darkness came over my -brain and I sank on the ground.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-baillies-of-no-man-s-land">CHAPTER XV</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE BAILLIES OF NO MAN'S LAND</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The next period in my life lies still in my mind -like a dream. I have a remembrance of awaking and -an impression of light, and strange faces, and then all -was dark again. Of those days my memory is a blank; -there is nothing but a medley of sickness and weariness, -light and blackness, and the wild phantoms of a -sick man's visions.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I first awoke to clear consciousness, it was -towards evening in a wild glen just below the Devil's -Beef Tub at the head of the Annan. I had no -knowledge where I was. All that I saw was a crowd of men -and women around me, a fire burning and a great pot -hissing thereon. All that I heard was a babel of every -noise, from the discordant cries of men to the yelping -of a pack of curs. I was lying on a very soft couch -made of skins and cloaks in the shade of a little -roughly-made tent. Beyond I could see the bare -hillsides rising shoulder on shoulder, and the sting of air -on my cheek told me that it was freezing hard. But -I was not cold, for the roaring fire made the place -warm as a baker's oven.</p> -<p class="pnext">I lay still and wondered, casting my mind over all -the events of the past that I could remember. I was -still giddy in the head, and the effort made me close -my eyes with weariness. Try as I would I could -think of nothing beyond my parting from Marjory at -Smitwood. All the events of my wanderings for the -moment had gone from my mind.</p> -<p class="pnext">By and by I grew a little stronger, and bit by bit -the thing returned to me. I remembered with great -vividness the weary incidents of my flight, even up to -its end and my final sinking. But still the matter -was no clearer. I had been rescued, it was plain, but -by whom, when, where, why? I lay and puzzled -over the thing with a curious mixture of indifference -and interest.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly a face looked in upon me, and a loud -strident voice cried out in a tongue which I scarce -fully understood. The purport of its words was that -the sick man was awake and looking about him. In -a minute the babel was stilled, and I heard a woman's -voice giving orders. Then some one came to me -with a basin of soup.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Drink, lad," said she; "ye've had a geyan -close escape but a' is richt wi' ye noo. Tak this and -see how ye feel."</p> -<p class="pnext">The woman was tall and squarely built like a man; -indeed, I cannot think that she was under six feet. -Her face struck me with astonishment, for I had seen -no woman for many a day since Marjory's fair face, -and the harsh commanding features of my nurse seemed -doubly strange. For dress she wore a black hat tied -down over her ears with a 'kerchief, and knotted in -gipsy fashion beneath her chin. Her gown was of -some dark-blue camlet cloth, and so short that it scarce -reached her knees, though whether this fashion was -meant for expedition in movement or merely for -display of gaudy stockings, I know not. Certainly her -stockings were monstrously fine, being of dark blue -flowered with scarlet thread, and her shoon were -adorned with great buckles of silver. Her outer -petticoat was folded so as to make two large pockets on -either side, and in the bosom of her dress I saw a great -clasp-knife.</p> -<p class="pnext">I drank the soup, which was made of some wild -herbs known only to the gipsy folk, and lay back on -my couch.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Now, sleep a wee, lad," said the woman, "and -I'll warrant ye'll be as blithe the morn as ever."</p> -<p class="pnext">I slept for some hours, and when I awoke sure -enough I felt mightily strengthened. It was now -eventide and the camp-fire had been made larger to -cook the evening meal. As I looked forth I could -see men squatting around it, broiling each his own -piece of meat in the ashes, while several cauldrons -sputtered and hissed on the chains. It was a wild, -bustling sight, and as I lay and watched I was not -sorry that I had fallen into such hands. For I ever -loved to see new things and strange ways, and now I -was like to have my fill.</p> -<p class="pnext">They brought me supper, a wild duck roasted and -coarse home-made bread, and a bottle of very -tolerable wine, got I know not whence unless from the -cellars of some churlish laird. I ate it heartily, for I -had fasted long in my sickness, and now that I was -recovered I had much to make up.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then the woman returned and asked me how I did. -I told her, "Well," and thanked her for her care, -asking her how I had been rescued and where I was. -And this was the tale she told me.</p> -<p class="pnext">She was of the clan of the Baillies, the great gipsies -of Tweeddale and Clydesdale, offshoots of the house of -Lamington, and proud as the devil or John Faa -himself. They had been encamped in the little haugh at -the foot of the Wormel on the night of my chase. -They had heard a cry, and a man with a face like -death had staggered in among them and fainted at -their feet. Captain William Baillie, their leader, of -whom more anon, had often been well-entreated at -Barns in my father's time, and had heard of my -misfortunes. He made a guess as to who I was and -ordered that I should be well looked after. Meantime -the two companies of soldiers passed by, suspecting -nothing, and not troubling to look for the object of -their search, who all the while was lying senseless -beneath a gipsy tent. When all was safe they looked -to my condition, and found that I was in a raging -fever with cold and fatigue. Now the gipsies, -especially those of our own countryside, are great adepts in -medicine, and they speedily had all remedies applied -to me. For three weeks I lay ill, delirious most of the -time, and they bore me with them in a litter in all -their wanderings. I have heard of many strange -pieces of generosity, but of none more strange than -this—to carry with much difficulty a helpless stranger -over some of the roughest land in Scotland, and all for -no other motive than sheer kindliness to a house which -had befriended them of old. With them I travelled -over the wild uplands of Eskdale and Ettrick, and with -them I now returned to the confines of Tweeddale.</p> -<p class="pnext">"The Captain's awa' just noo," added she, "but -he'll be back the morn, and blithe he'll be to see ye -so weel."</p> -<p class="pnext">And she left me and I slept again till daybreak.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I awoke again it was morning, just such a -day as the last, frosty and clear and bright. I saw by -the bustle that the camp was making preparations for -starting, and I was so well recovered that I felt fit to -join them. I no longer needed to be borne like a child -in a litter, but could mount horse and ride with the -best of them.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had risen and gone out to the encampment and -was watching the activity of man and beast, when one -advanced from the throng toward me. He was a -very tall, handsome man, dark in face as a Spaniard, -with fine curling moustachios. He wore a broad -blue bonnet on his head, his coat was of good green -cloth and his small-clothes of black. At his side he -carried a sword and in his belt a brace of pistols, and -save for a certain foreign air in his appearance he -seemed as fine a gentleman as one could see in the -land. He advanced to me and made me a very -courtly bow, which I returned as well as my -still-aching back permitted me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am glad you are recovered, Master John Burnet," -said he, speaking excellent English, though with -the broad accent which is customary to our Scots -lowlands. "Permit me to make myself known to you. -I have the honour to be Captain William Baillie at -your service, captain of the ragged regiment and the -Egyptian guards." All this he said with as fine an -air as if he were His Majesty's first general.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the mention of his name I called to mind all I -had heard of this extraordinary man, the chief of all -the south-country gipsies, and a character as famous -in those days and in those parts as Claverhouse or my -lord the King. He claimed to be a bastard of the -house of Lamington, and through his mother he traced -descent, also by the wrong side of the blanket, to the -Gay Gordons themselves. Something of his assumed -gentrice showed in his air and manner, which was -haughty and lofty as any lord's in the land. But in -his face, among wild passions and unbridled desires, I -read such shrewd kindliness that I found it in my -heart to like him. Indeed, while the tales of his -crimes are hawked at every fair, the tales of his many -deeds of kindness are remembered in lonely places by -folk who have cause to bless the name of Baillie. This -same captain had indeed the manners of a prince, for -when he bought anything he was wont to give his -purse in payment, and indignantly refuse to receive -change of any kind. It is only fair to add that the -money was not got by honest means, but by the -plunder of the rich and churlish. Yet though his ways -were roguish his acts were often most Christian-like -and courteous, and there were worse men in higher -places that this William Baillie. More, he was -reputed the best swordsman in all Scotland, though, as -being barred from the society of men of birth and -education, his marvellous talent was seldom seen. He -was of the most indomitable courage and self-possession, -and even in the court, when on his trial, he spoke -fearlessly to his judges. I do not seek to defend him; -but to me and mine he did a good deed and I would -seek to be grateful. When long afterwards he was -killed in a brawl in the alehouse of Newarthill, I heard -the tidings with some sorrow, for he died bravely, -though in an ignoble quarrel.</p> -<p class="pnext">He now informed me with great civility of the -incidents of my escape and sickness. When I thanked -him he waved me off with a great air.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tut, tut," said he, "that is a small matter -between gentlefolk. I have often had kindness from -your father, and it is only seemly that I should do -my best for the son. Besides, it is not in my nature -to see a man so sore pressed by the soldiery and not -seek to deliver him. It is a predicament I have so -often been in myself."</p> -<p class="pnext">A horse was brought for me, a little wiry animal, -well suited for hills and sure-footed as a goat. When -I felt myself in the saddle once again, even though it -were but a gipsy hallion, I was glad; for to one who -has scrambled on his own feet for so many days, a -horse is something like an earnest of better times. -Captain Baillie bade me come with him to another -place, where he showed me a heap of gipsy garments. -"It is necessary," said he, "if you would ride with -us that you change your appearance. One of your -figure riding among us would be too kenspeckle to -escape folk's notice. You must let me stain your -face, too, with the juice which we make for our bairns' -cheeks. It will wash off when you want it, but till -that time it will be as fast as sunburn." So taking a -crow's feather and dipping it in a little phial, he with -much skill passed it over my whole face and hands. -Then he held a mirror for me to look, and lo and -behold, I was as brown as a gipsy or a Barbary Moor. -I laughed loud and long at my appearance, and when -I was bidden put on a long green coat, the neighbour -of the captain's, and a pair of stout untanned -riding-boots, I swear my appearance was as truculent as the -roughest tinker's.</p> -<p class="pnext">Thus accoutred we set out, the men riding in front -in pairs and threes, the women behind with donkeys -and baggage shelties. It was a queer picture, for the -clothing of all was bright-coloured, and formed a -strange contrast with the clear, chilly skies and the dim -moor. There was no fear of detection, for apart from -the company that I was with, my disguise was so -complete that not even the most vigilant dragoon -could spy me out. Our road was that which I had -already travelled often to my own great -weariness—down Tweed by Rachan and the Mossfennan haughs. -I had no guess at our destination; so when at -Broughton we turned to the westward and headed -through the moss towards the town of Biggar, I was -not surprised. Nay, I was glad, for it brought me -nearer to the west country and Smitwood, whither -I desired to go with the utmost speed. For with my -returning health my sorrows and cares came back -to me more fiercely than ever. It could not be that -my cousin should find out Marjory's dwelling-place at -once, for in the letter there was no clear information; -only indefinite hints, which in time would bring him -there. The hope of my life was to reach the house -before him and rescue my love, though I had no fixed -plan in my mind and would have been at a sore loss -for aid. Nevertheless, I was quieter in spirit, and -more hopeful. For, after all, thought I, though -Gilbert get my lass, he yet has me to deal with, and -I will follow him to the world's end ere I let him be.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="how-three-men-held-a-town-in-terror">CHAPTER XVI</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">HOW THREE MEN HELD A TOWN IN TERROR</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was towards evening, a dark November evening, -that we came near the little town of Biggar. The -place lies on a sandy bank raised from the wide moss -which extends for miles by the edge of the sluggish -stream. It is a black, desolate spot, where whaups -and snipe whistle in the back streets, and a lane, -which begins from the causeway, may end in a pool -of dark moss-water. But the street is marvellous -broad, and there, at the tail of the autumn, is held -one of the greatest fairs in the lowlands of Scotland, -whither hawkers and tinkers come in hordes, not to -speak of serving-men and serving-lasses who seek hire. -For three days the thing goes on, and for racket and -babble it is unmatched in the countryside.</p> -<p class="pnext">We halted before the entrance to the town on a -square of dry in the midst of the water-way. The -weather had begun to draw to storm, and from the -east, great masses of rolling cloud came up, tinged red -and yellow with the dying sun. I know not how -many the gipsies were, but, with women and -children, they were not less in number than ninety or a -hundred. They had with them a great quantity of -gear of all kinds, and their animals were infinite. -Forbye their horses and asses, they had dogs and -fowls, and many tamed birds which travelled in their -company. One sight I yet remember as most curious. -A great long man, who rode on a little donkey, -had throughout the march kept an ugly raven before -him, which he treated with much kindness; and on -dismounting lifted off with assiduous care. And yet -the bird had no beauty or accomplishment to merit his -good-will. It is a trait of these strange people that -they must ever have something on which to expend -their affection; and while the women have their -children, the men have their pets. The most grim and -quarrelsome tinker will tend some beast or bird and -share with it his last meal.</p> -<p class="pnext">When the camp was made, the fire lit, and the -evening meal prepared, the men got out their violins -and bagpipes, and set themselves to enliven the night -with music. There in the clear space in front of -the fire they danced to the tunes with great glee and -skill. I sat beside the captain and watched the -picture, and in very truth it was a pleasing one. The -men, as I have said, were for the most part lithe and -tall, and they danced with grace. The gipsy women, -after the age of twenty, grow too harsh-featured for -beauty, and too manly in stature for elegance. But -before that age they are uniformly pretty. The free, -open-air life and the healthy fare make them strong -in body and extraordinarily graceful in movement. -Their well-formed features, their keen, laughing black -eyes, their rich complexions, and, above all, their -masses of coal-black hair become them choicely well. -So there in the ruddy firelight they danced to the -quavering music, and peace for once in a while lay -among them.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meanwhile I sat apart with William Baillie, and -talked of many things. He filled for me a pipe of -tobacco, and I essayed a practice which I had often -heard of before but never made trial of. I found it -very soothing, and we sat there in the bield of the tent -and discoursed of our several wanderings. I heard -from him wild tales of doings in the hills from the -Pentlands to the Cumberland fells, for his habits took -him far and wide in the country. He told all with -the greatest indifference, affecting the air of an ancient -Stoic, to whom all things, good and evil alike, were -the same. Every now and then he would break in -with a piece of moralising, which he delivered with -complete gravity, but which seemed to me matter for -laughter, coming, as it did, after some racy narrative -of how he vanquished Moss Marshall at the shieling -of Kippertree, or cheated the ale-wife at Newbigging -out of her score.</p> -<p class="pnext">On the morrow all went off to the fair save myself, -and I was left with the children and the dogs. The -captain had judged it better that I should stay, since -there would be folk there from around Barns and -Dawyck, who might penetrate my disguise and spread -the tidings. Besides, I knew naught of the tinker -trade, and should have been sorely out of place. So -I stayed at home and pondered over many things, -notably my present predicament. I thought of all my -old hopes and plans—to be a scholar and a gentleman of -spirit, to look well to my lands and have a great name -in the countryside, to study and make books, maybe -even to engage in Parliament and State business. And -what did I now? Travelling in disguise among -tinkers, a branded man, with my love and my lands in -danger, nay all but lost. It was this accursed thought -that made the bitterest part of my wanderings.</p> -<p class="pnext">I was in such a mood when a servant came from -a farmhouse near to get one of the gipsies to come -and mend the kitchen pot. As I was the only one -left, there was nothing for it but to go. The -adventure cheered me, for its whimsicality made me laugh, -and laughter is the best antidote to despair. But I -fared very badly, for, when I tried my 'prentice hand -at the pot, I was so manifestly incapable that the -good-wife drove me from the place, calling me an idle -sorner, and a lazy vagabond, and many other -well-deserved names. I returned to the camp with my -ears still ringing from her cuff, but in a more -wholesome temper of mind.</p> -<p class="pnext">The greater part of the others returned at the -darkening, most with well-filled pockets, though I fear it -was not all come by honestly; and a special feast was -prepared. That gipsy meal was of the strangest yet -most excellent quality. There was a savoury soup -made of all kinds of stewed game and poultry, and -after that the flesh of pigs and game roasted and -broiled. There was no seasoning to the food save a -kind of very bitter vinegar; for these people care little -for salt or any condiment. Moreover, they had the -strange practice of grating some hard substance into -their wine, which gave it a flavour as if it had been -burned in the mulling.</p> -<p class="pnext">The meal was over and I was thinking of lying -down for the night, when William Baillie came back. -I noted that in the firelight his face was black with -anger. I heard him speak to several of his men, and -his tone was the tone of one who was mastering some -passion. By and by he came to where I sat and lay -down beside me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Do you wish to pleasure me?" he said, shortly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why, yes," I answered; "you have saved my -life and I would do all in my power to oblige you, -though I fear that just now my power is little."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It's a' I want," said he, leaving his more correct -speech for the broad Scots of the countryside. "Listen, -and I'll tell ye what happened the day at the fair. -We tinker-folk went aboot our business, daein' ill to -nane, and behavin' like dacent, peaceable, -quiet-mainnered men and women. The place was in a gey -steer, for a heap o' Wast-country trash was there frae -the backs o' Straven and Douglasdale, and since a' -the godly and reputable folk thereaways hae ta'en to -the hills, nane but the rabble are left. So as we were -gaun on canny, and sellin' our bits o' things and -daein' our bits o' jobs, the drucken folk were dancin' -and cairryin' on at the ither end. By and by doun -the Fair come a drucken gairdener, one John Cree. -I ken him weel, a fosy, black-hertit scoondrel as ever -I saw. My wife, whom ye know, for it was her that -lookit after ye when ye were sick, was standin' at the -side when the man sees her. He comes up to her -wi' his leerin', blackgairdly face, and misca's her for -a tinkler and a' that was bad, as if the warst in our -tribe wasna better than him.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Mary, she stands back, and bids him get out or -she wad learn him mainners.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But he wadna take a tellin'. 'Oh, ho, my -bawbee joe,' says he, 'ye're braw and high the day. -Whae are you to despise an honest man? A wheen -tinkler doxies!' And he took up a stane and struck -her on the face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"At this a' our folk were for pittin' an end to -him there and then. But I keepit them back and -bade them let the drucken ful be. Syne he gaed awa', -but the folk o' the Fair took him up, and we've got -nocht but ill-words and ill-tongue a' day. But, by -God! they'll pay for it the morn." And the captain -looked long and fiercely into the embers.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hae a plan," said he, after a little, "and, -Master Burnet, I want ye to help me. The folk of -the fair are just a wheen scum and riddlings. There -are three o' us here, proper men, you and myself and -my son Matthew. If ye will agree to it we three -will mount horse the morn and clear oot that fair, and -frichten the folk o' Biggar for the next twalmonth."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What would you do?" said I.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hae three suits," he said, "o' guid crimson -cloth, which I got frae my grandfather and have -never worn. I have three braw horses, which cam -oot o' England three year syne. If the three o' us -mount and ride through the fair there will be sic a -scattering as was never heard tell o' afore i' the auld -toun. And, by God, if that gairdener-body doesna -gang wud wi' fricht, my name's no William Baillie."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now, I do not know what madness prompted me -to join in this freak. For certain it was a most -unbecoming thing for a man of birth to be perched on -horseback in the company of two reckless tinkers to -break the king's peace and terrify His Majesty's lieges -of Biggar. But a dare-devil spirit—the recoil from -the morning's despondency—now held me. Besides, -the romance of the thing took me captive; it was as -well that a man should play all the parts he could in the -world; and to my foolish mind it seemed a fine thing -that one who was a man of birth and learning should -not scruple to cast in his lot with the rough gipsies.</p> -<p class="pnext">So I agreed readily enough, and soon after went to -sleep with weariness, and knew nothing till the stormy -dawn woke the camp.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then the three of us dressed in the crimson suits, -and monstrously fine we looked. The day was dull, -cloudy, and with a threat of snow; and the massing -of clouds which we had marked on the day before -was now a thousandfold greater. We trotted out -over the green borders of the bog to the town, where -the riot and hilarity were audible. The sight of the -three to any chance spectator must have been -fearsome beyond the common. William Baillie, not to -speak of his great height and strange dress, had long -black hair which hung far below his shoulders, and -his scarlet hat and plume made him look like the -devil in person. Matthew, his son, was something -smaller, but broad and sinewy, and he sat his horse -with an admirable grace. As for myself, my face -was tanned with sun and air and the gipsy dye, my -hair hung loosely on my shoulders in the fashion I -have always worn it, and I could sit a horse with the -best of them.</p> -<p class="pnext">When we came near the head of the street we -halted and consulted. The captain bade us obey -him in all and follow wherever he went, and above -all let no word come from our mouth. Then we -turned up our sleeves above the elbows, drew our -swords and rode into the town.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the first sight of the three strange men who -rode abreast a great cry of amazement arose, and the -miscellaneous rabble was hushed. Then, in a voice -of thunder, the captain cried out that they had -despised the gipsies the day before, and that now was -the time of revenge. Suiting the action to the word -he held his naked sword before him, and we followed -at a canter.</p> -<p class="pnext">I have never seen so complete a rout in my life. -Stalls, booths, tables were overturned, and the crowd -flew wildly in all directions. The others of the tribe, -who had come to see the show, looked on from the -back, and to the terrified people seemed like fresh -assailants. I have never heard such a hubbub as -rose from the fleeing men and screaming women. -Farmers, country-folk, plowmen mingled with fat -burgesses and the craftsmen of the town in one wild -rush for safety. And yet we touched no one, but -kept on our way to the foot of the street, with our -drawn swords held stark upright in our hands. Then -we turned and came back; and lo! the great fair was -empty, and wild, fearful faces looked at us from -window and lane.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then, on our second ride, appeared at the church -gate the minister of the parish, a valiant man, who -bade us halt.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Stop," saul he, "you men of blood, and cease -from disturbing the town, or I will have you all clapt -in the stocks for a week."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then the captain spoke up and told him of the -wrong and insult of the day before.</p> -<p class="pnext">At this the worthy man looked grave. "Go back -to your place," he said, "and it shall be seen to. I -am wae that the folk of this town, who have the -benefit of my ministrations, set no better example to -puir heathen Egyptians. But give up the quarrel -at my bidding. 'Vengeance is mine, and I will -repay,' saith the Lord."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But haply, sir," said I, "as Augustine saith, we -may be the Lord's executors." And with this we -turned and rode off, leaving the man staring in -open-mouthed wonder.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="of-the-fight-in-the-moss-of-biggar">CHAPTER XVII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">OF THE FIGHT IN THE MOSS OF BIGGAR</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">When we came to the camping-place it was almost -deserted. The people had all gone to the fair, and -nothing was to be seen save the baggage and the -children. The morning had grown wilder and a thin -snow was falling, the earnest of a storm. The mist -was drawing closer and creeping over the boglands. -I minded an old saying of Tam Todd's, "Rouk's -snaw's wraith," and I looked for a wild storm with -gladness, for it would keep the dragoon gentry at -home and prohibit their ill-doing.</p> -<p class="pnext">But just in front at the border of the fog and at the -extremity of the dry land, the captain saw something -which made him draw up his horse sharply and stare. -Then he turned to Matthew, and I saw that his face -was flushed. "Ride a' your pith, man," he said, -"ride like the wind to the toun, and bid our folk -hurry back. Nae words and be off." And the -obedient son galloped away to do his bidding.</p> -<p class="pnext">He gripped me by the arm and pulled me to the -side. "Ye've guid een," he said. "D'ye see that -ower by the laigh trees?" I looked and looked again -and saw nothing.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maybe no," he said, "ye haena gipsy een; but -in half an' oor we'll a' ken what it means. It's the -Ruthvens wi' the Yerl o' Hell. I ken by their -red-stripit breeks and their lang scythe-sticks. Ye maun -ken that for lang we've had a bluid-feud wi' that clan, -for the Baillies are aye gentrice and hae nae trokins -wi' sic blaggard tinklers. We've focht them yince -and twice and aye gotten the better, and noo I hear -that little Will Ruthven, that's him that they ca' the -Yerl o' Hell for his deevilry, has sworn to fecht us -till there's no a Baillie left to keep up the name. And -noo they've come. 'Faith there'll be guid bluid spilt -afore thae wratches learn their lesson."</p> -<p class="pnext">The news struck me with vast astonishment and -a little dismay. I had often longed to see a battle and -now I was to be gratified. But what a battle! A -fight between two bloodthirsty gipsy clans, both as -wild as peat-reek, and armed with no more becoming -weapons than bludgeons, cutlasses, and scythe-blades. -More, the event would place me in a hard position. -I could not fight. It would be too absurd for words -that I should be mixed up in their mellays. But the -man at my side expected me to aid him. I owed my -life to him, and with these folk gratitude is reckoned -one of the first of the virtues. To refuse William -Baillie my help would be to offer him the deepest -unkindness. Yet I dismissed the thought at once as -preposterous. I could no more join the fight than -I could engage in a pothouse or stable brawl. There -was nothing for it but to keep back and watch the -thing as a silent spectator.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a little I began to see the band. It would -number, as I guessed, some hundred and ten, with women -and children. The captain, as he looked, grew fierce -with excitement. His dark eyes blazed, and his brow -and cheeks were crimson. Ever and anon he looked -anxiously in the direction of the town, waiting for the -help which was to come. As the foe came nearer -he began to point me out the leaders. "There's -Muckle Will," he cried, "him wi' the lang bare -shanks, like the trams o' a cairt. He's the strongest -and langest man frae the Forth to Berwick. My -God, but it'll be a braw fellow that can stand afore -him. And there's Kennedy himsel', that sonsy -licht-coloured man. They say he's the best wi' the -sma'-sword in a' Nithsdale, but 'faith, he's me to reckon -wi' the day. And there's that bluidy deil, Jean -Ruthven, whae wad fecht ony man in braid Scotland -for a pund o' 'oo'. She's as guid as a man, and they -say has been the death o' mair folk than the Yerl -himsel'. But here come our ain men. Come on, -Rob and Wat, and you, Mathy, gang wide to the -right wi' some. It's a great day <em class="italics">this</em>. Nae wee -cock-fecht, but a muckle lang deidly battle." And -the man's face was filled with fierce joy.</p> -<p class="pnext">Meanwhile both the forces had taken up their -position opposing one another, and such a babel of tinkler -yells arose that I was deafened. Each side had their -war-cry, and, in addition, the women and children -screamed the most horrible curses and insults against -the enemy. Yet the battle was not arrayed in -haphazard fashion, but rather with some show of military -skill. The stronger and bigger men of the clan with -the captain himself were in the middle. On the -right and left were their sons, with a more mixed -force, and below all the women were drawn up like -harpies, looking well-nigh as fierce and formidable as -the men.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You'll come to the front wi' me, Maister -Burnet," said the captain. "Ye're a guid man o' your -hands and we'll need a' we can get i' the middle."</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," said I, "I cannot."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Why?" he asked, looking at me darkly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tut, this is mere foolery. You would not have -me meddling in such a fray?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"You think we're no worthy for you to fecht -wi'," he said, quietly, "we, that are as guid as the -best gentlemen i' the land, and have saved your life -for ye, Master John Burnet. Weel, let it be. I -didna think ye wad hae dune it." Then the tinker -blood came out. "Maybe you're feared," said he, -with an ugly smile.</p> -<p class="pnext">I turned away and made no answer; indeed, I could -trust myself to make none. I was bitterly angry and -unhappy. All my misfortunes had drawn to a point -in that moment. I had lost everything. A fatal -mischance seemed to pursue me. Now I had -mortally offended the man who had saved my life, and -my outlook was drear enough.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had been looking the other way for a second, and -when I turned again the fray had begun. The Earl, -with a cutlass, had engaged the captain, and the -wings, if one may call them by so fine a word, had -met and mingled in confusion. But still it was not a -general mellay, but rather a duel between the two -principal combatants. The little man with the short -sword showed wondrous agility, and leaped and twisted -like a tumbler at a fair. As for the Baillie, he had -naught to do but keep him at a distance, for he was both -better armed and better skilled. As he fought he let -his eye wander to the others and directed them with -his voice. "Come up, Mathy lad," he would cry. -"Stand weel into them, and dinna fear the lasses." -Then as he saw one of his own side creeping behind -the Earl to strike a back blow, he roared with anger -and bade him keep off. "Let the man be," he -cried. "Is't no eneuch to hae to fecht wi' -blaggards that ye maun be blaggards yoursel'?"</p> -<p class="pnext">But in a little the crowd closed round them and -they had less room for play. Then began a grim -and deadly fight. The townspeople, at the word of -the tinkers fighting, had left the fair and come out in -a crowd to witness it. It was a sight such as scarce -a man may see twice in his lifetime. The mist rolled -low and thick, and in the dim light the wild, dark -faces and whirling weapons seemed almost monstrous. -Now that the death had begun there was little -shouting; nothing was heard save the rattle of the -cutlasses, and a sort of sighing as blows were given and -received. The bolder of the women and boys had -taken their place, and at the back the little children -and young girls looked on with the strangest -composure. I grew wild with excitement, and could scarce -keep from yelling my encouragements or my -warnings; but these had no thought of uttering a word. -Had there been a cloud of smoke or smell of powder -it would have seemed decent, but this quietness and -clearness jarred on me terribly. Moreover, the -weapons they fought with were rude, but powerful to inflict -deep wounds, being all clubs and short swords and -scythe-blades fixed on poles. Soon I saw ghastly cuts -on the faces of the foremost and blood-splashes on brow -and cheek. Had there been horses it would not have -seemed so cruel, for there would have been the rush -and trample, the hot excitement of the charge and -the recoil. But in the quiet, fierce conflict on foot -there seemed nothing but murder and horror.</p> -<p class="pnext">At first the battle was fought in a little space, and -both sides stood compact. But soon it widened, -and the wings straggled out almost to the edge of the -bog-water. The timid onlookers fled as from the -plague, and I, in my station in the back, was in -doubts whether I should bide still or no. But in front -of me were the girls and children, and I thought if -I could do naught else I might bide still and see to -them. For the horns of the Ruthven's company -(which was far the larger) threatened to enclose the -Baillies, and cut off their retreat. Meantime the -mist had come down still closer and had given that -decent covering which one desires in a bloody fray. -I could scarce see the front ranks of our opponents, -and all I could make out of my friends was the -captain's bright sword glinting as he raised it to the -cut.</p> -<p class="pnext">But that soon happened which I had feared. For -the Ruthvens, enclosing our wings, had all but -surrounded us, since the captain had put the weaker -there and left all the more valiant for the centre. -Almost before I knew I saw one and another great -gipsy rush around and make towards the girls who -had not joined the battle. In that moment I saw -the bravest actions which it has ever been my lot to -see. For these slim, dark-haired maids drew knives -and stood before their assailants, as stout-hearted as -any soldiers of the King's guard. The children raised -a great cry and huddled close to one another. One -evil-looking fellow flung a knife and pierced a girl's -arm.... It was too much for me. All my -good resolutions went to the wind, and I forgot -my pride in my anger. With a choking cry I drew -my sword and rushed for him.</p> -<p class="pnext">After that I know not well what happened. I -was borne back by numbers, then I forced my way -forward, then back I fell again. At first I fought -calmly, and more from a perverted feeling of duty -than any lust of battle. But soon a tinker knife -scratched my cheek, and a tinker bludgeon rattled -sorely against my head. Then I grew very hot and -angry. I saw all around me a crowd of fierce faces -and gleaming knives, and I remember naught save -that I hurled myself onward, sword in hand, hewing -and slashing like a devil incarnate. I had never -drawn blade in overmastering passion before, and -could scarce have thought myself capable of such -madness as then possessed me. The wild moss-trooping -blood, which I had heired from generations -of robber lords, stood me in good stead. A reckless -joy of fight took me. I must have seemed more -frantic than the gipsies themselves.</p> -<p class="pnext">At last, I know not how, I found my way to the -very front rank. I had been down often, and blood -was flowing freely from little flesh wounds, but as yet -I was unscathed. There I saw William Baillie -laying about him manfully, though sore wounded in the -shoulder. When he saw me he gave me a cry of -welcome. "Come on," he cried, "I kenned ye -wad think better o't. We've muckle need o' a guid -man the noo." And he spoke truth, for anything -more fierce and awesome than the enemy I have never -seen. The Earl of Hell was mangled almost to -death, especially in the legs and thighs. The flesh -was clean cut from the bone of one of his legs, and -hung down over the ankles, till a man grew sick at -the sight. But he was whole compared with his -daughter, Jean Ruthven, who was the chief's wife. -Above and below her bare breasts she was cut to the -bone, and so deep were the gashes that the movement -of her lungs, as she breathed, showed between the -ribs. The look of the thing made me ill with -horror. I felt giddy, and almost swooned; and yet, -though white as death, she fought as undauntedly as -ever. I shunned the sight, and strove to engage her -husband alone, the great fair-haired man, who, with -no weapon but a broken cutlass, had cleared all -around him. I thrust at him once and again and -could get no nearer for the swing of his mighty arms. -Then the press behind, caused I suppose by the -Ruthvens at the back, drove me forward, and there -was nothing for it but to grapple with him. Our -weapons were forced from our hands in the throng, -and, with desperate energy, we clutched one another. -I leaped and gripped him by the neck, and the next -instant we were both down, and a great, suffocating -wave of men pressed over us. I felt my breath stop, -and yet I kept my grip and drew him closer. All -was blackness around, and even as I clutched I felt -a sharp thrill of agony through my frame, which -seemed to tear the life from my heart, and I was lost -to all.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="smitwood">CHAPTER XVIII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">SMITWOOD</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">That I am alive to this day and fit to write this -tale, I owe to William Baillie. He saw me fall and -the press close over me, and, though hard beset -himself, he made one effort for my salvation. "Mathy," -he cried, "and Tam and Andra, look after your man -and get him up," and then once more he was at -death-grips. They obeyed his bidding as well as they -might, and made a little ring in the centre around me, -defending me with their weapons. Then they -entwined us and lifted me, senseless as I was, to the -light and air. As for Kennedy, he was heavy and -florid, and his life had gone from him at the first -overthrow.</p> -<p class="pnext">I do not know well how I was got from the fray. -I think I would have been killed, had not the -Ruthvens, whose best men were wounded, given way a -little after. Their trick of surrounding the enemy, -by spreading wide their wings, was not wise and met -with sorry success. For it left their middle so weak, -that when Kennedy and the valiant Earl had been -mastered, there remained no resistance. So when -my friends made haste to push with me to the back -they found their path none so hard. And after all -that there was nothing but confusion and rout, the -one side fleeing with their wounded, the other making -no effort to pursue, but remaining to rest and heal -their hurts.</p> -<p class="pnext">As I have said, I was unconscious for some time, -and when I revived I was given a sleeping draught of -the gipsies' own making. It put me into a profound -slumber, so that I slept for the rest of the day and -night and well on to the next morning. When I -awoke I was in a rough cart drawn by two little -horses, in the centre of the troop who were hurrying -westward. I felt my body with care and found that -I was whole and well. A noise still hummed in my -head and my eyes were not very clear, as indeed was -natural after the fray of the day before. But I had -no sore hurt, only little flesh scratches, which twinged -at the time, but would soon be healed.</p> -<p class="pnext">But if this was my case it was not that of the rest -of the band. The battle had been like all such gipsy -fights—very terrible and bloody, but with no great roll -of dead. Indeed, on our side we had not lost a man, -and of the enemy Kennedy alone had died, who, being -a big man and a full-blooded, had been suffocated in -his fall by the throng above him. It was just by little -that I had escaped the same fate, for we two at the -time had been in death-grips, and had I not been thin -and hardy of frame, I should have perished there and -then. But the wounds were so terrible on both sides -that it scarce seemed possible that many could ever -recover. Yet I heard, in after days, that not one died -as a result of that day's encounter. Even the Earl of -Hell and his daughter Jean recovered of their wounds -and wandered through the country for many years. -But the sight of the folk around me on the march was -very terrible. One man limped along with a great -gash in his thigh in which I could have placed my -open hand. Another had three fingers shorn off, and -carried his maimed and bandaged hand piteously. Still -a third lay in the cart with a breast wound which -gaped at every breath, and seemed certain ere long to -bring death. Yet of such strength and hardihood was -this extraordinary people that they made light of such -wounds, and swore they would be healed in three -weeks' time. Perhaps this tenacity of life is due in -some part to their excellent doctoring, for it is certain -that these folk have great skill in medicaments, and -with herb-concoctions, and I know not what else, will -often perform wondrous cures. I have my own case -as an instance—where first I was restored from a high -fever by their skill, and, second, from a fit of -suffocation far more deadly.</p> -<p class="pnext">The storms of the day before had passed and a light -frost set in which made the air clear and sharp and -the countryside plain even to the distances. We -were passing under the great mass of Tintock—a high, -hump-backed hill which rises sheer from the level land -and stands like a mighty sentinel o'er the upper Clyde -valley. We travelled slow, for the wounded were not -fit to bear much speed, and many of the folk walked -to suffer the horses to be yoked to the carts. After -a little I espied the captain walking at the side, with -his shoulder and cheeks bandaged, but as erect and -haughty as ever. Seeing that I was awake, he came -over beside me and asked very kindly after my health. -His tenderness toward me was as great as if I had been -his son or nearest blood-kin. When I told him that -I was well and would get down and walk beside him, -he said that that would be a most unbecoming thing -and would never do, but that he would have a horse -brought me from the back. So a horse was brought, -an excellent black, with white on its fetlocks, and I -mounted; and despite some little stiffness, found it -much to my liking.</p> -<p class="pnext">He told of the end of the battle and all the details -of its course. He was in the highest spirits, for -though his folk were sore wounded, they had yet -beaten their foes and sent them off in a worse plight -than themselves. Above all he was full of a childish -vanity in his own prowess. "Saw you that muckle -bullion, Kennedy, Master Burnet? I gied him some -gey licks, but I never could win near eneuch to him -for his muckle airm. You grippit him weel and he'll -no bother us mair. His ain folk 'll keep quiet eneuch -aboot the affair, I'll warrant, so we may look to hear -naething mair aboot it. I'm thinking tae, that the -Yerl 'll no seek to come back my gate again. I -tried to mak him fecht like a gentleman, but faith, -he wadna dae't. He just keepit cuttin' at my shanks -till I was fair wild, and telled some o' our ain folk to -tak the legs frae the body wi' a scythe-stick. I haena -seen a fecht like it since that at the Romanno Brig -fifteen years syne, atween the Faas and the Shawes, -when they were gaun frae Haddington to Harestane. -Our folk wad hae been in't if they hadna come't up -ower late and juist seen the end o't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And will you have no farther trouble about the -matter?" I asked. "If the justice gets word of it -will you not suffer?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Na, na," he said, with conviction, "nae fear. -Thae things dinna come to the lugs o' the law. We -didna dae ony hairm except to oorsels, and there's -nane o' us killed save Kennedy whae dee'd a naitural -death, so there can be nae word aboot that. Forbye, -how's the law to grip us?" And he turned on me a -face full of roguish mirth which looked oddly between -the bandages. "If they heard we were at Biggar -Moss yae day and cam after us, afore the morn we -wad be in the Douglas Muirs or the Ettrick Hills. -We're kittle cattle to fash wi'. We gang slow for -ordinar, but when aucht presses we can flee like a -flock o' stirlins."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then where are you going?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Where, but to Lancrick," he said. "There's -a fair comes on there Monday three days, and the -muir is grand beddin'. I didna ask your will on -the maitter, for I kenned a' places the noo were -muckle the same to ye, provided they were safe and -no ower far away frae the wast country."</p> -<p class="pnext">"That's true enough," I said, thinking sadly of -Marjory and my miserable plight. I had not told -Baillie anything of my story, for I did not care to -commit it to such ears. But I was glad that we travelled -in this airt, for I had still in my heart a wild hope -that by some fortunate chance I should be in time to -save my love.</p> -<p class="pnext">About midday we came to Lanark Moor, where -the baggage and shelties, as well as most of the women -and children, were left behind to find an encampment. -As for us, we pushed on to the town to see what was -doing and hear some news of the countryside. I had -no fear of detection, for in my new guise I passed for -the veriest gipsy in the land. I was still clothed in -my suit of crimson, but the fight had made it torn in -many places, and all smirched with mire and -bog-water. Also, my face was not only stained with the -captain's dye, but the storms and dust of the encounter -had deepened its colour to the likeness of an Ethiop. -I had not a rag left of gentility, save maybe the sword -which still swung at my side. In this fashion I rode -by Baillie's elbow in a mood neither glad nor sad, but -sunk in a sort of dogged carelessness. The entrance -to the town was down a steep path from the moor, -for the place is built above the gorge of Clyde, yet -something lower than the surrounding moorlands. -Far on all sides I had a view of the wide landscape, -from the rugged high hills of Tweeddale and the upper -Clyde to the lowlands in the west which stretch to -Glasgow and the sea.</p> -<p class="pnext">But when we came to the town there was a great -to-do, men running about briskly and talking to one -another, old women and young gossiping at house and -close doors, and the upper windows filled with heads. -There was a curious, anxious hum throughout the air, -as if some great news had come or was coming ere -long. I forgot for a moment my position and leaned -from the saddle to ask the cause of a man who stood -talking to a woman at the causeway side. He looked -at me rudely. "What for d'ye want to ken, ye -black-faced tinkler? D'ye think it'll matter muckle -to you what king there is when you're hangit?" But -the woman was more gracious and deigned to give me -some sort of answer. "There's word o' news," she -said. "We kenna yet what it is, and some think ae -thing and some anither, but a' are agreed that it'll -make a gey stramash i' the land. A man cam ridin' -here an hour syne and has been closeted wi' the -provost ever since. Honest man, his heid 'll be fair -turned if there's onything wrung, for he's better at -sellin' tatties than reddin' the disorders o' the -state." And then the man by her side bade her hold her peace, -and I rode on without hearing more.</p> -<p class="pnext">By and by we came to the market-place where -stands the ancient cross of Lanerick, whereat all -proclamations are made for the Westlands. Straight -down from it one looks on the steep braes of Kirkfieldbank -and the bridge which the Romans built over the -river; and even there the murmur of the great falls in -Clyde comes to a man's ear. The place was thronged -with people standing in excited groups, and the -expression on each face was one of expectancy. Folk had -come in from the country round as on some errand of -enquiry, and the coats of a few of the soldiery were -to be discerned among the rest. But I had no fear of -them, for they were of the lowlands regiment, and had -no knowledge of me. The sight of us, and of myself -in especial, for Baillie had changed his garb, caused some -little stir in the crowd and many inquisitive looks.</p> -<p class="pnext">The captain came up to me. "There's dooms -little to be dune here," he cried; "the place is in sic -a fever, I canna think what's gaun to happen. We -may as weel gang back to the muirs and wait till things -quiet doun."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know not either," said I, and yet all the time -I knew I was lying, for I had some faint guess at the -approach of great tidings, and my heart was beating -wildly.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly the crowd parted at the farther end and a -man on a wearied grey horse rode up toward the cross. -He held a bundle of papers in his hand, and his face -was red with hurry and excitement. "News," he -cried hoarsely, "great news, the greatest and the best -that the land has heard for many a day." And as -the people surged round in a mighty press he waved -them back and dismounted from his horse. Then -slowly and painfully he ascended the steps of the cross -and leaned for a second against the shaft to regain his -breath. Then he stood forward and cried out in a -loud voice that all in the market-place might hear. -"I have ridden post-haste from Edinbro' with the -word, for it came only this morn. James Stewart has -fled from the throne, and William of Orange has -landed in the South and is on his way to London. -The bloody house has fallen and the troubling of Israel -is at an end."</p> -<p class="pnext">At that word there went through the people a -sound which I shall never forget as long as I live—the -sigh of gratitude for a great deliverance. It was -like a passing of a wind through a forest, and more -terrible to hear than all the alarums of war. And -then there followed a mighty shout, so loud and long -that the roofs trembled, and men tossed bonnets in air -and cried aloud and wept and ran hither and thither -like madmen. At last the black cloud of the persecution -had lifted from their land, and they were free to -go and tell their kinsmen in hiding that all danger was -gone for ever.</p> -<p class="pnext">As for myself, what shall I say? My first feeling -was one of utter joy. Once more I was free to go -whither I liked, and call my lands my own. Now I -could overmaster my cousin and set out to the saving -of my lass. Indeed I, who am a king's man through -and through, and who sorrowed in after days for this -very event, am ashamed to say that my only feeling -at the moment was one of irrepressible gladness. No -one, who has not for many months been under the -shadow of death, can tell the blessedness of the release. -But even as I joyed, I thought of Marjory, and the -thought recalled me to my duty.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Have you a fast horse?" I said to the captain.</p> -<p class="pnext">He looked at me in amazement, for the tidings -were nothing to him, and in my face he must have -read something of my tale.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You mean—" he said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes, yes," said I; "it means that I am now -safe, and free to save another. I must be off hot-foot. -Will you lend me a horse?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Take mine," said he, "it's at your service, and -take my guidwill wi' ye." And he dismounted and -held out his hand.</p> -<p class="pnext">I mounted and took his in one parting grip. "God -bless you, William Baillie, for an honest man and a -gentleman," and I was off without another word.</p> -<p class="pnext">It must have been a strange thing for the people of -Lanark to see me on that day, as they ran hither and -thither to tell the good tidings. For, in all my savage -finery, I dashed up the narrow street, scattering folk -to the right and left like ducks from a pond, and -paying no heed to a hundred angry threats which rang -out behind me. In a little I had gained the moor, -and set my face for Douglasdale and my lady. Smitwood -was but ten miles away and the path to it easy. -In a short hour I should be there, and then—ah, then, -it could not be otherwise, it must be, that Marjory -should be there to greet me, and be the first to hear -my brave news.</p> -<p class="pnext">I passed over the road I had come, and had no -time to reflect on the difference in my condition from -two hours agone, when abject and miserable I had -plodded along it. Now all my head was in a whirl, -and my heart in a storm of throbbing. The horse's -motion was too slow to keep pace with my thoughts -and my desires; and I found me posting on ahead of -myself, eager to be at my goal. In such wild fashion -I rode over the low haughlands of Clyde, and forded -the river at a deep place where it flowed still and -treacherous among reeds, never heeding, but -swimming my horse across, though I had enough to do to -land on the other side. Then on through the benty -moorlands of Douglas-side and past the great wood -of the Douglas Castle. My whole nature was -centred in one great desire of meeting, and yet even in -my longing I had a deadly suspicion that all might -not be well—that I had come too late.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then I saw the trees and the old house of Smitwood -lying solemn among its meadows. I quickened -my horse to fresh exertion. Like a whirlwind he -went up the avenue, making the soft turf fly beneath -his heels. Then with a start I drew him up at the -door and cried loudly for admittance.</p> -<p class="pnext">Master Veitch came out with a startled face and -looked upon me with surprise.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is Marjory within?" I cried, "Marjory! Quick, -tell me!"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marjory," he replied, and fell back with a white -face. "Do you seek Marjory? She left here two -day's agone to go to you, when you sent for her. Your -servant Nicol went after her."</p> -<p class="pnext">"O my God," I cried, "I am too late;" and -I leaned against my horse in despair.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-hear-no-good-in-the-inn-at-the-fords-o-clyde">BOOK IV—THE WESTLANDS</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center large medium pfirst">CHAPTER I</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I HEAR NO GOOD IN THE INN AT THE FORDS O' CLYDE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">For a second I was so filled with despair at Master -Veitch's news that my mind was the veriest blank and -I could get no thought save that bitterest of all—that -my lady was gone. But with a great effort I braced -myself to action.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what of my servant Nicol?" I asked, and -waited breathlessly for the answer.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, he was away on the hills seeking ye, Master -Burnet. When he got no word Marjory was in sic a -terror that nothing would suffice her but that he maun -off to Tweeddale and seek every heather-buss for word -of ye. He hadna been gone twae days when half-a-dozen -men, or maybe more, came wi' horse and a' -and a letter frae you yoursel, seekin' the lass. They -said that a' was peaceably settled now, and that you -had sent them to fetch her to meet you at Lanerick. -I hadna a thocht but that it was a' richt and neither -had the lass, for she was blithe to gang. Next day, -that was yestreen, here comes your servant Nicol wi' -a face as red as a sodger's coat, and when he finds -Marjory gone he sits down wi' his heid atween his -hands and spak never a word to any man. Then -aboot the darkening he gets up and eats a dinner as -though he hadna seen meat for a twal'month. Then -off he gangs, and tells na a soul where he was gaun." The -old man had lost all his fine bearing and correct -speech, and stood by the door shivering with age and -anxiety.</p> -<p class="pnext">A whirlwind of thoughts passed through my mind. -Now that the old order was at end, Gilbert's power -had gone with it, and he was likely to find it go hard -with him soon. There was but one refuge for him—in -his own lands in the west, where, in his great house -of Eaglesham or his town dwelling in Glasgow, he -might find harborage; for the very fact that they were -in the stronghold of the Whigs made them the more -secure. Thither he must have gone if he had any -remnant of wit, and thither he had taken my lady. -And with the thought my whole nature was steeled -into one fierce resolve to follow him and call him to -bitter account. My first fit of rage had left me, and -a more deadly feeling had taken its place. This earth -was too narrow a place for my cousin and me to live -in, and somewhere in these Westlands I would meet -him and settle accounts once and for all. It was not -anger I felt, I give you my word. Nay, it was a -sense of some impelling fate behind driving me -forward to meet this mm, who had crossed me so -often. The torments of baffled love and frustrated -ambition were all sunk in this one irresistible impulse.</p> -<p class="pnext">I clambered on my horse once more, and a strange -sight I must have seemed to the gaping servants and -their astonished master.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am off on the quest," I cried, "but I will give -you one word of news ere I go. The king has fled -the land, and the Dutch William goes to the throne." And -I turned and galloped down the avenue, leaving -a throng of pale faces staring after my horse's tail.</p> -<p class="pnext">Once on the road I lashed my animal into a mad -gallop. Some devil seemed to have possessed me. -I had oft thought fondly in the past that my nature -was not such as the wild cavaliers whom I had seen, -but more that of the calm and reasonable philosopher. -Now I laughed bitterly at these vain imaginings. For -when a man's heart is stirred to its bottom with love -or hatred all surface graces are stripped from it and -the old primeval passions sway him, which swayed -his father before him. But with all my heat I felt a -new coolness and self-possession. A desperate calm -held me. In a little all things would be settled, for -this was the final strife, from which one or other of -the combatants would never return.</p> -<p class="pnext">The dull November eve came on me ere I reached -the Clyde. 'Twas no vantage to ford the stream, so -I rode down the left bank among the damp haughs and -great sedgy pools. In a little I had come to the awful -gorge where the water foams over many linns and the -roar of the place is like the guns of an army. Here -I left the stream side and struck into the country, -whence I returned again nearly opposite the town of -Lanark, at the broad, shallow place in the river, which -folk call the Fords o' Clyde.</p> -<p class="pnext">Here there is a clachan of houses jumbled together -in a crinkle of the hill, where the way from the -Ayrshire moors to the capital comes down to the bank. -Here there was an inn, an indifferent place, but quiet -and little frequented; and since there was little to be -got by going further I resolved to pass the night in the -house. So I rode down the uneven way to where I -saw the light brightest, and found the hostel by a -swinging lamp over the door. So giving my horse -to a stableman, with many strict injunctions as to his -treatment, I entered the low doorway and found my -way to the inn parlour.</p> -<p class="pnext">From the place came a great racket of mirth, and -as I opened the door a glass struck against the top -and was shivered to pieces. Inside, around the long -table, sat a round dozen of dragoons making merry -after their boisterous fashion. One would have -guessed little indeed from their faces that their -occupation was gone, for they birled at the wine as if the -times were twenty years back and King Charles (whom -God rest) just come anew to his throne.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had never seen the soldiers before, but I made a -guess that they were disbanded men of my cousin's -company, both from their air of exceeding braggadocio -which clung to all who had any relation to Gilbert -Burnet, and also since there were no soldiers in this -special part of the Clyde dale save his. I was in no -temper for such a racket, and had there been another -room in the house I should have sought it; but the -inn was small and little frequented, and the -accommodation narrow at the best. However, I must needs -make the most of it, so shutting the door behind I -sought a retired corner seat. I was still worn with -my exertions of yesterday and weary with long riding, -so I was blithe to get my limbs at rest.</p> -<p class="pnext">But it was clear that three-fourths of the company -were in the last state of drunkenness, and since men -in liquor can never let well alone, they must needs -begin to meddle with me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gidden," said one, "what kind o' gentleman -hae we here? I havena seen sic a fellow sin' yon -steeple-jaick at Brochtoun Fair. D'ye think he wad -be willin' to gie us a bit entertainment?"</p> -<p class="pnext">Now you must remember that I still wore my suit -of torn and dirty crimson, and with my stained face -and long hair I must have cut a rare figure.</p> -<p class="pnext">But had the thing gone no further than words I -should never have stirred a finger in the matter, for -when a man's energies are all bent upon some great -quarrel, he has little stomach for lesser bickerings. -But now one arose in a drunken frolic, staggered over -to where I sat, and plucked me rudely by the arm. -"Come ower," he said, "my man, and let'sh see ye -dance the 'Nancy kilt her Coats.' You see here -twelve honest sodgers whae will gie ye a penny a piece -for the ploy."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Keep your hands off," I said brusquely, "and -hold your tongue. 'Twill be you that will do the -dancing soon at the end of a tow on the castle hill, -when King William plays the fiddle. You'll be -brisker lads then."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What," said he in a second, with drunken -gravity. "Do I hear you shpeak treason against his -majesty King James? Dod, I'll learn ye better." And -he tugged at his sword, but being unable in his -present state to draw it with comfort, he struck me a -hard thwack over the shoulder, scabbard and all.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a moment I was ablaze with passion. I flung -myself on the fellow, and with one buffet sent him -rolling below the table. Then I was ashamed for -myself, for a drunken man is no more fit for an honest -blow than a babe or a woman.</p> -<p class="pnext">But there was no time for shame or aught save -action. Three men—the only three who were able -to understand the turn of affairs—rose to their feet in -a trice, and with drawn swords came towards me. -The others sat stupidly staring, save two who had -fallen asleep and rolled from their seats.</p> -<p class="pnext">I picked up my chair, which was broad and heavy -and of excellent stout oak, and held it before me like -a shield. I received the first man's awkward lunge -full on it, and, thrusting it forward, struck him fair -above the elbow, while his blade fell with a clatter on -the floor. Meantime the others were attacking me to -the best of their power, and though they were singly -feeble, yet in their very folly they were more -dangerous than a mettlesome opponent, who will keep always -in front and observe well the rules of the game. -Indeed, it might have gone hard with me had not the -door been flung violently open and the landlord -entered, wringing his hands and beseeching, and close at -his heels another man, very tall and thin and dark. At -the sight of this second my heart gave a great bound and -I cried aloud in delight. For it was my servant Nicol.</p> -<p class="pnext">In less time than it takes to write it we had -disarmed the drunken ruffians and reduced them to order. -And, indeed, the task was not a hard one, for they -were a vast deal more eager to sleep than to fight, and -soon sank to their fitting places on the floor. Forbye -they may have had some gleam of sense, and seen how -perilous was their conduct in the present regiment of -affairs. Then Nicol, who was an old acquaintance -of the host's, led me to another room in the back of -the house, where we were left in peace; and sitting -by the fire told one another some fragment of our tales.</p> -<p class="pnext">And first for his own, for I would speak not a -word till he had told me all there was to tell. He -had had much ado to get to Caerdon, for the hills were -thick with the military, and at that wild season of the -year there is little cover. When he found no letter -he set off for the hiding-place above Scrape, where he -knew I had been, and found it deserted. Thence -he had shaped his way again to Smitwood with infinite -labour and told Marjory the fruit of his errand. At -this her grief had been so excessive that nothing would -content her but that he must be off again and learn by -hook or crook some word of my whereabouts. So -began his wanderings among the hills, often attended -with danger and always with hardship, but no trace of -me could he find. At last, somewhere about the -Moffat Water, he had forgathered with a single tinker -whom he had once befriended in the old days when -he had yet power to help. From this man he had -learned that the Baillies had with them one whom he -did not know for certain, but shrewdly guessed as the -laird of Barns. With all speed he had set off on this -new quest and followed me in my journey right to the -moss of Biggar. Here all signs of the band came to -an end, for most of the folk of the place knew naught -of the airt of the gipsy flight, and such as knew were -loth to tell, being little in a mood to incur the Baillies' -wrath. So naught was left for him but to return to -the place whence he had started. Here he was met -with the bitter news that I have already set down. -He was thrown into a state of utter despondency, and -sat for long in a fine confusion of mind. Then he -fell to reasoning. There was no place whither -Gilbert could take a woman save his own house of -Eaglesham, for Dawyck and Barns were too near the hills -and myself. You must remember that at this time -my servant had no inkling of the momentous event -which had set our positions upside down. Now, if -they took her to the west they would do so with all -speed; they had but one day's start; he might yet -overtake them, and try if his wits could find no way -out of the difficulty.</p> -<p class="pnext">So off he set and came to this inn of the Clyde fords, -and then he heard that on the evening before such a -cavalcade had passed as he sought. But he learned -something more the next morn; namely, that my -cousin's power was wholly broken and that now I was -freed from all suspicion of danger. Once more he -fell into a confusion, but the one thing clear was that -he must find me at all costs. He had heard of me -last at the town of Biggar not fifteen miles off; when -I heard the great news he guessed that I would ride -straight for Smitwood; I would hear the tidings that -the folk there had to tell, and, if he knew aught of -me, I would ride straight, as he had done, on the track -of the fugitives. So he turned back to the inn, and abode -there awaiting me, and, lo! at nightfall I had come.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then for long we spoke of my own wanderings, -and I told him many tales of my doings and sufferings -up hill and down dale, as did Ulysses to the Ithacan -swineherd. But ere long we fell to discussing that far -more momentous task which lay before us. It -behooved us to be up and doing, for I had a horrid fear -at my heart that my cousin might seek to reach the -western seacoast and escape to France or Ireland, and -thus sorely hinder my meeting with my love. I had -no fear but that I should overtake him sooner or later, -for fate had driven that lesson deep into my heart, and -to myself I said that it was but a matter of days, or -weeks, or maybe years, but not of failure. I was for -posting on even at that late hour, but Nicol would -have none of it.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Look at your face i' the gless, sir," said he, -"and tell me if ye look like muckle mair ridin' the -day. Ye're fair forwandered wi' weariness and want -o' sleep. And what for wad ye keep thae queer-like -claes? I'll get ye a new suit frae the landlord, decent -man, and mak ye mair presentable for gaun intil the Wast."</p> -<p class="pnext">I looked as he bade me in the low mirror, and saw -my dark face, and wind-tossed hair, and my clothes -of flaming crimson. Something in the odd contrast -struck my fancy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," I said, grimly, "I will bide as I am. I -am going on a grim errand and I will not lay aside -these rags till I have done that which I went for -to do."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel, weel, please yersel'," said my servant, -jauntily, and he turned away, whistling and smiling -to himself.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="an-old-journey-with-a-new-errand">CHAPTER II</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">AN OLD JOURNEY WITH A NEW ERRAND</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I slept like a log till the broad daylight on the next -morn woke me, and with all speed I got up and dressed. -I found myself much refreshed in body. My -weariness was gone, and the dull languor which had -oppressed me had given place to a singular freshness -of spirit.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I went below I found my servant ready and -waiting, with the horses saddled and my meal -prepared. The soldiers had gone early, paying no score; -for when their liquor had left them they had wakened -up to the solemn conviction that this countryside was -not like to be a pleasant habitation for them for many -months to come. So they had gone off to Heaven -knows where, cutting my bridle-rein as a last token -of their affection.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was near ten o'clock ere we started, the two of -us, on our road to the West. I had travelled it many -times, for it was the way to Glasgow, and I found -myself calling up, whether I would or no, a thousand -half-sad and half-pleasing memories. At this place I had -stopped to water my horse, at this cottage I had halted -for an hour, at this hostel I had lain the night. Had -I not looked at my comrade every now and then, I -might have fancied that I was still the schoolboy, with -his wide interest in letters and life, and little -knowledge of either, with half a dozen letters in his pocket, -looking forward with fear and hope to town and -college. Heigh-ho! Many things had come and gone -since then, and here was I still the same boy, but -ah! how tossed and buffeted and perplexed. Yet I would -not have bartered my present state for those careless -and joyous years, for after all this is a rugged world, -with God knows how many sore straits and devilish -temptations, but with so many fair and valiant rewards, -that a man is a coward indeed who would not battle -through the one for the sweet sake of the other.</p> -<p class="pnext">As we went Nicol talked of many things with a -cheery good humour. His was an adventure-loving -mind, and there were few things which he would not -brave save the routine of settled life. Now, as the -November sun came out, for the morn was frosty and -clear, his face shone with the sharp air and the -excitement of the ride, and he entertained me to his views -on the world and the things in it. The ground was -hard as steel underfoot, the horse's hooves crackled -through the little ice-coated pools in the road, and -a solitary thrush sang its song from a wayside wood -and seemed like a silver trump calling to action and -daring.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What think ye o' the hills, Laird?" said my -servant. "Ye've been lang among them, and ye'll ken -them noo in anither way than if ye had just trampit -ower them after wild-jucks or ridden through them to -Yarrow or Moffatdale. I've wandered among them -since I was a laddie five 'ear auld, and used to gang oot -wi' my faither to the herdin'. And since then I've -traivelled up Tweed and doun Tweed, and a' ower the -Clydeside and the Annanside, no to speak o' furrin -pairts, and I can weel say that I ken naucht sae awfu' -and sae kindly, sae couthy and bonny and hamely, -and, at the same time, sae cauld and cruel, as juist -thae green hills and muirs."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You speak truly," said I. "I've seen them in -all weathers and I know well what you mean."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay," he went on, "thae lawlands are very bonny, -wi' the laigh meadows, and bosky trees and waters as -still as a mill-pound. And if ye come doun frae the -high bare lands ye think them fair like Heev'n. But -I canna bide lang there. I aye turn fair sick for the -smell o' moss and heather, and the roarin' and routin' -o' the burn, and the air sae clear and snell that it gars -your face prick and your legs and airms strauchten -oot, till ye think ye could run frae here to the Heads -o' Ayr."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I know all of that," said I, "and more."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, there's far mair," said he. "There's the -sleepin' at nicht on the grund wi' naething abune you -but the stars, and waukin' i' the mornin' wi' the birds -singin' i' your lug and the wind blawin' cool and free -around you. I ken a' that and I ken the ither, when -the mist crowds low on the tap o' the hills and the -rain dreeps and seeps, or when the snaw comes and -drifts sae thick that ye canna stand afore it, and there's -life neither for man nor beast. Yet wi' it a' I like -it, and if I micht choose the place I wad like best to -dee in, it would be in the lee side o' a muckle hill, -wi' nae death-bed or sic like havers, but juist to gang -straucht to my Makker frae the yirth I had aye -traivelled on. But wha kens?" and he spurred up -his horse.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nicol," said I, after a long silence, "you know -the errand we go on. I have told you it, I think. -It is to find my cousin and Mistress Marjory. If God -grant that we do so, then these are my orders. You -shall take the lady home to Tweeddale, to Dawyck, -which is her own, and leave me behind you. I may -come back or I may not. If I do, all will be well. -If I do not, you know your duty. You have already -fulfilled it for some little time; if it happens as I say, -you shall continue it to death. The lass will have -no other protector than yourself."</p> -<p class="pnext">"E'en as ye say," cried he, resuming his hilarity, -though whether it was real or no I cannot tell. "But -dinna crack aboot siccan things, Laird, or ye'll be -makkin' our journey nae better than buryin'. It's a -wanchancy thing to speak aboot death. No that a -man should be feared at it, but that he should keep a -calm sough till it come. Ye mind the story o' auld -Tam Blacket, the writer at Peebles. Tam was deein', -and as he was a guid auld man the minister, whae was -great at death-beds and consolation, cam to speak to -him aboot his latter end. 'Ye're near death, -Tammas,' says he. Up gets auld Tam. 'I'll thank ye no -to mention that subject,' he says, and never a word -wad he allow the puir man to speak."</p> -<p class="pnext">So in this way we talked till we came to where the -road leaves the Clyde valley and rises steep to the high -land about the town of Hamilton. Here we alighted -for dinner at an inn which bears for its sign the Ship of -War, though what this means in a town many miles -from the sea I do not know. Here we had a most -excellent meal, over which we did not tarry long, for -we sought to reach Glasgow ere nightfall, and at that -season of the year the day closes early.</p> -<p class="pnext">As we rode down the narrow, crooked street, I had -leisure to look about me. The town was in a ferment, -for, as near the field of Bothwell Brig, where the Whigs -had suffered their chiefest slaughter, it had been well -garrisoned with soldiers, and the news of the Prince -of Orange's landing put the place into an uproar. -Men with flushed, eager faces hurried past with wonder -writ large on their cheeks; others stood about in knots -talking shrilly; and every now and then a horseman -would push his way through the crowd bearing fresh -tidings to the townsfolk or carrying it thence to the -West country.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly, in the throng of men, I saw a face which -brought me to a standstill. It was that of a man, -dark, sullen, and foreign-looking, whose former -dragoon's dress a countryman's coat poorly concealed. -He was pushing his way eagerly through the crowd, -when he looked into the mid-street and caught my -eye. In an instant he had dived into one of the -narrow closes and was lost to sight.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the first glance I knew my man for that soldier -of Gilbert's, Jan Hamman, the Hollander, whom -already thrice I had met, once in the Alphen Road, -once at the joining of the Cor Water with Tweed, -and once at the caves of the Cor, when so many of -His Majesty's servants went to their account. What -he was about in this West country I could not think, -for had he been wise he would have made for the -eastern seacoast or at least not ventured into this -stronghold of those he had persecuted. And with the -thought another came. Had not he spoken bitterly -of his commander? was he not the victim of one of -my fair cousin's many infamies? had he not, in my -own hearing, sworn vengeance? Gilbert had more -foes than one on his track, for here was this man, -darkly malevolent, dogging him in his flight. The -thought flashed upon me that he of all men would -know my cousin's plans and would aid me in my -search. I did not for a moment desire him for an -ally in my work; nay, I should first frustrate his -designs, before I settled matters with Gilbert, for it was -in the highest degree unseemly that any such villain -should meddle in matters which belonged solely to our -house. Still I should use him for my own ends, come -what might.</p> -<p class="pnext">I leaped from my horse, crying on Nicol to take -charge of it, and dashed up the narrow entry. I had -just a glimpse of a figure vanishing round the far -corner, and when I had picked my way, stumbling -over countless obstacles, I found at the end an open -court, roughly paved with cobbie-stones, and beyond -that a high wall. With all my might I made a great -leap and caught the top, and lo! I looked over into a -narrow lane wherein children were playing. It was -clear that my man had gone by this road, and would -now be mixed among the folk in the side street. It -was useless to follow further, so in some chagrin I -retraced my steps, banning Nicol and the Dutchman -and my own ill-luck.</p> -<p class="pnext">I remounted, making no answer to my servant's -sarcastic condolences—for, of course, he had no -knowledge of this fellow's purport in coming to the -Westlands, and could only look on my conduct as a -whimsical freak. As we passed down the street I kept -a shrewd lookout to right and left if haply I might see -my man, but no such good luck visited me. Once -out of the town it behooved us to make better speed, -for little of the afternoon remained, and dusk at this -time of year fell sharp and sudden. So with a great -jingling and bravado we clattered through the little -hamlets of Blantyre and Cambuslang, and came just -at the darkening to the populous burgh of Rutherglen, -which, saving that it has no college or abbey, is a -more bustling and prosperous place than Glasgow -itself. But here we did not stay, being eager to win -to our journey's end; so after a glass of wine at an -inn we took the path through the now dusky meadows -by Clyde side, and passing through the village of -Gorbals, which lies on the south bank of the river, -we crossed the great bridge and entered the gates just -as they were on the point of closing.</p> -<p class="pnext">During the latter hours of the day I had gone over -again in mind all the details of the doings of past -weeks. All seemed now clear, and with great -heartiness I cursed myself for errors, which I could scarce -have refrained from. The steps in Gilbert's plan lay -before me one by one. The letter had given him only -the slightest of clues, which he must have taken weeks -to discover. When at last it had been made clear -to him, something else had engaged his mind. He -must have had word from private sources, shut to the -country folk, of the way whither events were trending -in the state. His mind was made up; he would make -one desperate bid for success; and thus he shaped his -course. He sent men to Smitwood with the plausible -story which I had already heard from my servant, -how all breach was healed between us, and how this -was her escort to take her to me. Then I doubted -not he had bidden the men show her as proof some -letter forged in my name on the model of the one I -had lost on Caerdon, and also give her some slight hint -of the great change in the country to convince her that -now he could do no ill even had he desired it, and -that I was now on the summit of fortune. The poor -lass, wearied with anxiety and long delay, and with no -wise Nicol at hand to give better counsel, had suffered -herself to be persuaded, and left the house with a glad -heart. I pictured her disillusion, her bitter regrets, -her unwilling flight. And then I swore with -redoubled vehemence that it should not be for long.</p> -<p class="pnext">We alighted for the night at the house of that -Mistress Macmillan, where I lodged when I first came -to college. She welcomed us heartily, and prepared -us a noble supper, for we were hungry as hawks, and -I, for one, tired with many rough adventures. The -house stood in the Gallow Gate, near the salt market -and the college gardens; and as I lay down on the -fresh sheets and heard the many noises of the street -with the ripple of the river filling the pauses, I thanked -God that at last I had come out of beggary and -outlawry to decent habitation.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-house-with-the-chipped-gables">CHAPTER III</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE HOUSE WITH THE CHIPPED GABLES</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">The next morn the weather had changed. When -I looked forth through the latticed panes to the street, -it was a bleak scene that met my eyes—near a foot of -snow, flakes tossing and whirling everywhere, and the -roofs and gables showing leaden dull in the gloom. -Had I been in another frame of mind I should have -lost my spirits, for nothing so disheartened me as -heavy, dismal weather. But now I was in such a -temper that I welcomed the outlook; the grey, lifeless -street was akin to my heart, and I went down from -my chamber with the iron of resolution in my soul.</p> -<p class="pnext">My first care was to enquire at Mistress Macmillan -if she knew aught of my cousin's doings, for the -town-house of the Eaglesham Burnets was not two -streets distant. But she could give me no news, for, -said she, since the old laird died and these troublous -times succeeded, it was little that the young master -came near the place. So without any delay I and my -servant went out into the wintry day, and found our -way to the old, dark dwelling in the High Street.</p> -<p class="pnext">The house had been built near a hundred years -before, in the time of Ephraim Burnet, my cousin's -grandfather. I mind it well to this day, and oft as -I think of the city, that dreary, ancient pile rises to fill -my vision. The three Burnet leaves, the escutcheon -of our family, hung over the doorway. Every window -was little and well-barred with iron, nor was any sign -of life to be seen behind the dreary panes. But the -most notable things to the eye were the odd crow-step -gables, which, I know not from what cause, were all -chipped and defaced, and had a strange, pied appearance -against the darker roof. It faced the street and -down one side ran a little lane. Behind were many -lesser buildings around the courtyard, and the back -opened into a wynd which ran westward to the city walls.</p> -<p class="pnext">I went up the steps and with my sword-hilt -thundered on the door. The blows roused the echoes of -the old place. Within I heard the resonance of -corridor and room, all hollow and empty. Below me -was the snowy street, with now and then a single -passer, and I felt an eerie awe of this strange house, -as of one who should seek to force a vault of the dead.</p> -<p class="pnext">Again I knocked, and this time it brought me an -answer. I heard feet—slow, shuffling feet, coming -from some room, and ascending the staircase to -the hall. The place was so void that the slightest -sound rang loud and clear, and I could mark the -progress of the steps from their beginning. Somewhere -they came to a halt, as if the person were considering -whether or not to come to the door, but by and by -they advanced, and with vast creaking a key was -fitted into the lock and the great oak door was opened -a little.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was a little old woman who stood in the opening, -with a face seamed and wrinkled, and not a tooth in -her head. She wore a mutch, which gave her a most -witch-like appearance, and her narrow, grey eyes, as -they fastened on me and sought out my errand, did -not reassure me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What d'ye want here the day, sir?" she said in -a high, squeaking voice. "It's cauld, cauld weather, -and my banes are auld and I canna stand here bidin' -your pleesur."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is your master within?" I said, shortly. "Take -me to him, for I have business with him."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Maister, quotha!" she screamed. "Wha d'ye -speak o', young sir? If it's the auld laird ye mean, -he's lang syne wi' his Makker, and the young yin has -no been here thae fower years. He was a tenty bit -lad, was Maister Gilbert, but he gaed aff to the wars -i' the abroad and ne'er thinks o' returnin'. Wae's -me for the puir, hapless cheil." And she crooned -on to herself in the garrulity of old age.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tell me the truth," said I, "and have done with -your lies. It is well known that your master came -here in the last two days with two men and a lady, -and abode here for the night. Tell me instantly if he -is still here or whither has he gone."</p> -<p class="pnext">She looked at me with a twinkle of shrewdness and -then shook her head once more. "Na, na, I'm no -leein'. I'm ower neer my accoont wi' the Lord to -burden my soul wi' lees. When you tae are faun i' -the hinner end o' life, ye'll no think it worth your -while to mak up leesome stories. I tell ye the young -maister hasna been here for years, though it's blithe I -wad be to see him. If ye winna believe my word, ye -can e'en gang your ways."</p> -<p class="pnext">Now I was in something of a quandary. The -woman looked to be speaking the truth, and it was -possible that my cousin could have left the city on -one side and pushed straight on to his house of -Eaglesham or even to the remoter western coast. Yet the -way was a long one, and I saw not how he could have -refrained from halting at Glasgow in the even. He -had no cause to fear my following him there more -than another place. For that I would come post-haste -to the Westlands at the first word he must have well -known, and so he could have no reason in covering -his tracks from me. He was over-well known a figure -in his own countryside to make secrecy possible; his -aim must be to outrace me in speed, not to outwit me -with cunning.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let me gang, young sir," the old hag was groaning. -"I've the rheumaticks i' my banes and I'm sair -hadden doon wi' the chills, and I'll get my death if I -stand here longer."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I will trust you then," said I, "but since I am -a kinsman of your master's and have ridden far on a -bootless errand, I will even come in and refresh -myself ere I return."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Na, na," she said, a new look, one of anxiety -and cunning coming into her face, "ye maun na dae -that. It was the last word my maister bade me ere -he gaed awa'. 'Elspeth,' says he, 'see ye let nane -intil the hoose till I come back.'"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Tut, tut, I am his own cousin. I will enter if -I please," and calling my servant, I made to force an -admittance.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then suddenly, ere I knew, the great door was -slammed in my face, and I could hear the sound of a -key turning and a bar being dropped.</p> -<p class="pnext">Here was a pretty to-do. Without doubt there was -that in the house which the crone desired to keep from -my notice. I sprang to the door and thundered on it -like a madman, wrestling with the lock, and calling -for the woman to open it. But all in vain, and after -a few seconds' bootless endeavour, I turned ruefully -to my servant.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Can aught be done?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I saw a dyke as we cam here," said Nicol, "and -ower the back o't was a yaird. There was likewise -a gate i' the dyke. I'm thinkin' that'll be the back -door o' the hoose. If ye were awfu' determined, -Laird, ye micht win in there."</p> -<p class="pnext">I thought for a moment. "You are right," I -cried. "I know the place. But we will first go back -and fetch the horses, for it is like there will be wild -work before us ere night."</p> -<p class="pnext">But lo and behold! when we went to the inn stable -my horse was off. "I thocht he needit a shoe," said -the ostler, "so I just sent him doun to Jock -Walkinshaw's i' the East Port. If ye'll bide a wee, I'll send -a laddie doun to bring him up."</p> -<p class="pnext">Five, twenty, sixty minutes and more we waited -while that accursed child brought my horse. Then -he came back a little after midday; three shoes had -been needed, he said, and he had rin a' the way, and -he wasna to blame. So I gave him a crown and a -sound box on the ears, and then the two of us set off.</p> -<p class="pnext">The place was high and difficult of access, being -in a narrow lane where few passers ever went, and -nigh to the city wall. I bade Nicol hold the horses, -and standing on the back of one I could just come to -within a few feet of the top. I did my utmost by -springing upward to grasp the parapet, but all in vain, -so in a miserable state of disappointed hopes I desisted -and consulted with my servant. Together we tried -the door, but it was of massive wood, clamped with -iron, and triply bolted. There was nothing for it but -to send off to Mistress Macmillan and seek some -contrivance. Had the day not been so wild and the lane -so quiet we could scarce have gone unnoticed. As it -was, one man passed, a hawker in a little cart, -seeking a near way, and with little time to stare at the two -solitary horsemen waiting by the wall.</p> -<p class="pnext">Nicol went off alone, while I kept guard—an aimless -guard—by the gate. In a little he returned with -an old boat-hook, with the cleek at the end somewhat -unusually long. Then he proposed his method. I -should stand on horseback as before, and hang the -hook on the flat surface of the wall. When, by dint -of scraping, I had fixed it firmly, I should climb it -hand over hand, as a sailor mounts a rope, and with -a few pulls I might hope to be at the summit.</p> -<p class="pnext">I did as he bade, and, with great labour, fixed the -hook in the hard stone. Then I pulled myself up, -very slowly and carefully, with the shaft quivering in -my hands. I was just gripping the stone when the -wretched iron slipped and rattled down to the ground, -cutting me sharply in the wrist. Luckily I did not -go with it, for in the moment of falling, I had grasped -the top and hung there with aching hands and the -blood from the cut trickling down my arm. Then, -with a mighty effort, I swung myself up and stood -safe on the top.</p> -<p class="pnext">Below me was a sloping roof of wood which ended -in a sheer wall of maybe twelve feet. Below that in -turn was the great yard, flagged with stone, but now -hidden under a cloak of snow. Around it were stables, -empty of horses, windy, cold, and dismal. I cannot -tell how the whole place depressed me. I felt as -though I were descending into some pit of the dead.</p> -<p class="pnext">Staunching the blood from my wrist—by good luck -my left—as best I might with my kerchief, I slipped -down the white roof and dropped into the court. It -was a wide, empty place, and, in the late afternoon, -looked grey and fearsome. The dead black house -behind, with its many windows all shuttered and -lifeless, shadowed the place like a pall. At my back -was the back door of the house, like the other locked -and iron-clamped. I seemed to myself to have done -little good by my escapade in coming thither.</p> -<p class="pnext">Wandering aimlessly, I entered the stables, scarce -thinking what I was doing. Something about the -place made me stop and look. I rubbed my eyes and -wondered. There, sure enough, were signs of horses -having been recently here. Fresh hay and a few oats -were in the mangers, and straw and dung in the stalls -clearly proclaimed that not long agone the place had -been tenanted.</p> -<p class="pnext">I rushed out into the yard, and ran hither and -thither searching the ground. There were hoof-marks—fool -that I was not to have marked them before—leading -clearly from the stable door to the gate on the -High Street. I rushed to the iron doors and tugged -at them. To my amazement I found that they -yielded, and I was staring into the darkening street.</p> -<p class="pnext">So the birds had been there and flown in our brief -absence. I cursed my ill-fortune with a bitter heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly I saw something dark lying amid the -snow. I picked it up and laid it tenderly in my -bosom. For it was a little knot of blue velvet ribbon, -such as my lady wore.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="up-hill-and-down-dale">CHAPTER IV</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">UP HILL AND DOWN DALE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I rushed up the street, leaving the gates swinging -wide behind me, and down the lane to where Nicol -waited. In brief, panting words I told him my tale. -He heard it without a movement, save to turn his -horse's head up the street. I swung myself into the -saddle, and, with no more delay, we made for our -lodgings.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There is but one thing that we may do," said I. -"The night is an ill one, but if it is ill for us 'tis ill -for them." And at the words I groaned, for I thought -of my poor Marjory in the storm and cold.</p> -<p class="pnext">At Mistress Macmillan's I paid the lawing, and -having eaten a hearty meal, we crammed some food -into our saddle-bags and bade the hostess good-bye. -Then we turned straight for the west port of the city.</p> -<p class="pnext">It was as I had expected. The gates were just at -the closing when the twain of us rode up to them and -were suffered to pass. The man looked curiously at -my strange dress, but made no remark, as is the fashion -of these taciturn Westland folk, and together we rode -through and into the bleak night. The snow had -ceased to fall early in the day, but now it came on -again in little intermittent driftings, while a keen wind -whistled from the hills of the north. The land was -more or less strange to me, and even my servant, who -had a passing acquaintance with many countrysides, -professed himself ignorant. It was the way to the -wild highlands—the county of Campbells and -Lennoxes—and far distant from kindly Christian folk. I -could not think why my cousin had chosen this path, -save for the reason of its difficulty and obscurity. I -was still in doubt of his purpose, whether he was -bound for his own house of Eaglesham or for the more -distant Clyde coast. He had clearly gone by this gate -from the city, for this much we had learned from the -man at the port. Now, if he sought Eaglesham, he -must needs cross the river, which would give us some -time to gain on his track. But if he still held to the -north, then there was naught for it but to follow him -hot-foot and come up with him by God's grace and our -horses' speed.</p> -<p class="pnext">I have been abroad on many dark nights, but never -have I seen one so black as this. The path to the -west ran straight from our feet to the rugged hills -which dip down to the river edge some ten miles off. -But of it we could make nothing, nor was there -anything to tell us of its presence save that our horses -stumbled when we strayed from it to the moory land -on either side. All about us were the wilds, for the -town of Glasgow stood on the last bounds of settled -country, near to the fierce mountains and black -morasses of the Highlandmen. The wind crooned and -blew in gusts over the white waste, driving little flakes -of snow about us, and cutting us to the bone with its -bitter cold. Somewhere in the unknown distances -we heard strange sounds—the awesome rumble of -water or the cry of forlorn birds. All was as bleak -as death, and, in the thick darkness, what might -otherwise have seemed simple and homelike, was filled -with vague terrors. I had shaped no path—all that I -sought was to hasten somewhere nearer those we -followed, and on this mad quest we stumbled blindly -forward.</p> -<p class="pnext">When we had gone some half-dozen miles a light -shone out from the wayside, and we descried a house. -It was a little, low dwelling, with many sheds at the -rear; clearly a smithy or a humble farm. My servant -leaped down and knocked. The door was opened, -a warm stream of light lay across the snowy road. I -had a glimpse within, and there was a cheerful kitchen -with a fire of logs crackling. A man sat by the -hearth, shaping something or other with a knife, and -around him two children were playing. The woman -who came to us was buxom and comely, one who -delighted in her children and her home. The whole -place gave me a sharp feeling of envy and regret. -Even these folk, poor peasants, had the joys of -comfort and peace, while I, so long an outlaw and a -wanderer, must still wander hopeless seeking the lost, -cumbered about with a thousand dangers.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Did any riders pass by the road to-day?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ay, four passed on horses about midday or maybe -a wee thing after it, twae stoot fellows, and a -braw-clad gentleman and a bonny young leddy. They didna -stop but gaed by at a great rate."</p> -<p class="pnext">"What was the lady like?" I asked, breathlessly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, a bit young thing, snod and genty-like. But -I mind she looked gey dowie and I think she had been -greetin'. But wherefore d'ye speir, sir? And what -are ye daein' oot hereaways on siccan a nicht? Ye -best come in and bide till mornin'. We've an orra -bed i' the house for the maister, and plenty o' guid, -saft straw i' the barn for the man."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Did they go straight on?" I cried, "and whither -does this way lead?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"They went straight on," said she, "and the road -is the road to the toun o' Dumbarton." And she -would have told me more, but with a hasty word of -thanks, I cut her short, and once more we were off -into the night.</p> -<p class="pnext">From this place our way and the incidents thereof -are scarce clear in my memory. For one thing the -many toils of the preceding time began at last to tell -upon me, and I grew sore and wearied. Also a heavy -drowsiness oppressed me, and even in that cold I -could have slept on my horse's back. We were still -on the path, and the rhythmical jog of the motion -served to lull me, till, as befell every now and then, -there came a rut or a tussock, and I was brought to -my senses with a sharp shock. Nicol rode silently -at my side, a great figure in the gloom, bent low, as -was always his custom, over his horse's neck. In -one way the state was more pleasing than the last, for -the turmoil of cares in my heart was quieted for the -moment by the bodily fatigue. I roused myself at -times to think of my purpose and get me energy for -my task, but the dull languor would not be exorcised, -and I always fell back again into my sloth. Nevertheless -we kept a fair pace, for we had given the rein -to our animals, and they were fresh and well-fed.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly, ere I knew, the way began to change -from a level road into a steep hill-path. Even in the -blackness I could see a great hillside rising steeply to -right and to left. I pulled up my horse, for here there -would be need of careful guidance, and was going on -as before when Nicol halted me with his voice.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Laird, Laird," he cried, "I dinna ken muckle -aboot the Dumbarton road, but there's yae thing I ken -weel and that is that it keeps i' the laigh land near the -waterside a' the way, and doesna straiggle ower -brae-faces."</p> -<p class="pnext">This roused me to myself. "Did we pass any -cross-road?" I asked, "for God knows the night is -dark enough for any man to wander. Are you sure -of what you say?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"As sure as I am that my fingers are cauld and -my een fair dazed wi' sleep," said he.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then there is naught for it but to go back and -trust to overtaking the path. But stay, are these not -the hills of Kilpatrick, which stretch down from the -Lennox to the Clyde and front the river at this very -Dumbarton? I have surely heard of such. Our -highway must lie to our left, since we clearly have -turned to the right, seeing that if we had turned to -the left we should have reached the water. If then -we strike straight from here along the bottom of this -slope, will we not reach the town? The chances are -that we should never find our path, whereas this way -will bring us there without fail, if we can stomach -some rough riding."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Weel, sir, I'm wi' ye wherever ye like to gang. -And I'll no deny but that it's the maist reasonable -road to tak, if ye're no feared o' breakin' your craig -ower a stane or walkin' intil a peat-bog. But we -maun e'en lippen to Providence and tak our chance -like better men."</p> -<p class="pnext">So wheeling sharply to our left, we left the path -and rode as best we could along the rough bottom of -the hills. It was a tract of rushy ground where many -streams ran. Huge boulders, tumbled down from the -steeps, strewed it like the leaves of a hazel wood in -autumn. On one hand the land lay back to the haughlands -and ordered fields, on the other it sloped steeply -to the hills. Stumps of birk-trees and stray gnarled -trunks came at times, but in general the ground was -open and not unsuited for horses in the light of day. -Now it was something more than difficult, for we -came perilous near oftentimes to fulfilling my servant's -prophecy. Once, I remember, I floundered fair into -a trench of moss-water with a vile muddy bottom, -where I verily believe both horse and man would have -perished, had not Nicol, who saw my misfortune and -leaped his beast across, pulled me fiercely from my -saddle to the bank, and the twain of us together -extricated the horse. In this fashion, floundering and -slipping, we must have ridden some half-dozen miles. -All drowsiness had vanished with the rough and ready -mode of travel. Once more the thought of my lady -and her plight, of my wrongs and my misfortunes, -tormented me with anxiety and wrath, and stamped -yet more firmly my errand on my soul.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now, however, we were suddenly brought to an -end in our progress. Before us lay a little ravine, -clogged with snow, in whose bottom a burn roared. -It was a water of little size, and, in summer weather, -one might all but have leaped it. Now the snow had -swollen it to the semblance of a torrent, and it chafed -and eddied in the little gorge, a streak of dark, angry -water against the dim white banks. There was nothing -for it but to enter and struggle across, and yet, as -I looked at the ugly swirl, I hesitated. I was nigh -numbed with cold, my horse was aching from its -stumbling, there was little foothold on the opposing -bank. I turned to Nicol, who sat with his teeth -shaking with the bitter weather.</p> -<p class="pnext">"There is naught for it," said I, "but to risk it. -There is no use in following it, for we shall find no -better place in a ravine like this."</p> -<p class="pnext">Even as I spoke my servant had taken the plunge, -and I saw horse and man slip off the snowy bank into -the foam. I followed so closely that I lost all sight -of them. To this day I remember the feelings of the -moment, the choking as an icy wave surged over my -mouth, the frantic pulling at the bridle-rein, the wild -plunging of my horse, the roar of water and the splash -of swimming. Then, with a mighty effort, my brave -animal was struggling up the further side, where my -servant was already shaking the water from his clothes.</p> -<p class="pnext">This incident, while it put me in better heart, vastly -added to my bodily discomfort. An icy wind shivering -through dripping garments may well chill the blood -of the stoutest. And for certain the next part of the -way is burned on my memory with a thousand -recollections of utter weariness and misery. Even my -hardy servant could scarce keep from groaning, and I, -who was ever of a tenderer make, could have leaned -my head on my horse's neck and sobbed with pure -feebleness.</p> -<p class="pnext">The country was now rough with tanglewood, for -we were near the last spur of the hills, ere they break -down on the river. Somewhere through the gloom -lights were shining and moving, as I guessed from a -ship on the water. Beyond were still others, few in -number, but fixed as if from dwelling-houses. Here -at last, I thought, is the town of Dumbarton which I -am seeking, and fired with the hope we urged on the -more our jaded beasts.</p> -<p class="pnext">But lo! when we came to it, 'twas but a wayside -inn in a little clachan, where one solitary lamp swung -and cast a bar of light over the snowy street. I -hammered at the door till I brought down the landlord, -shivering in his night-dress. It might be that my -cousin had halted here, so I asked the man if he had -any travellers within.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nane, save twae drunk Ayr skippers and a Glesca -packman, unless your honour is comin' to keep them -company."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Has anyone passed then?" I cried.</p> -<p class="pnext">"How could I tell when I've been sleepin' i' my -bed thae sax 'oor?" he coughed, and, seeing we were -no sojourners, slammed the door in our face.</p> -<p class="pnext">We were numb and wretched, but there was naught -for it but to ride on further to the town. It could -not be far, and there were signs of morn already in the -air. The cold grew more intense and the thick pall -of darkness lifted somewhat toward the east. The -blurred woods and clogged fields at our side gradually -came into view, and as, heart-sick and nigh fordone -with want of sleep, we rounded the great barrier ridge -of hill, an array of twinkling lights sprang up in front -and told us that we were not far from our journey's -end. Nevertheless, it was still dark when we rode -into a narrow, cobbled street and stopped at the first -hostelry.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now, both the one and the other were too far gone -with weariness to do more than drop helplessly from -the horses and stagger into the inn parlour. They gave -us brandy, and then led us to a sleeping-room, where -we lay down like logs and dropped into a profound -slumber.</p> -<p class="pnext">When we awoke the morning was well advanced. -I was roused by Nicol, who was ever the more -wakeful, and without more delay we went down and -recruited our exhausted strength with a meal. Then I -summoned the landlord, and asked, more from habit -than from any clear expectation, whether any travellers -had lodged over night.</p> -<p class="pnext">The man answered shortly that there had been a -gentleman and a maid, with two serving-men, who -had but lately left.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a great haste I seized on my hat and called loudly -for the horses. "Where did they go?" I said; "by -what way? Quick, tell me."</p> -<p class="pnext">"They took the road doun to the ferry," said he, -in great amazement. "It's no an 'oor since they gaed."</p> -<p class="pnext">Thereupon I flung him his lawing, and we rushed -from the house.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="eaglesham">CHAPTER V</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">EAGLESHAM</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">It was dawning morn, grey and misty, with a thaw -setting in on the surface of the snow. Down the -narrow, crooked streets, with a wind shivering in our -teeth, we went at a breakneck gallop. I lashed my -horse for its life, and the poor brute, wearied as it -was by the toils of the night, answered gallantly to my -call. Sometimes, in a steep place, we slipped for -yards; often I was within an ace of death; and at one -street-turning with a mighty clatter Nicol came down, -though the next minute he was up again. A few -sleepy citizens rubbed their eyes and stared from their -windows, and in the lighted doorway of a tavern, a -sailor looked at us wonderingly.</p> -<p class="pnext">In less time than it takes to tell, we were at the -water-edge. Here there is a rough quay, with something -of a harbour behind it, where lie the sugar-boats -from the Indies, when the flood-tide is too low to -suffer them to go up stream to the city. Here, also, -the ferry four times daily crosses the river.</p> -<p class="pnext">Before us the water lay in leaden gloom, with that -strange, dead colour which comes from the falling of -much snow. Heavy waves were beginning to roll -over the jetty, and a mist was drooping lower and -ever lower. Two men stood by an old anchor coiling -some rope. We pulled up our horses and I cried out -in impatience where the ferry might be.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Gone ten meenutes syne," said one, with no -change on his stolid face. "There she is gin ye hae -een i' your heid to see."</p> -<p class="pnext">And he pointed out to the waste of waters. I -looked and saw a sail rising and sinking in the trough -of the waves.</p> -<p class="pnext">"When does she return?" I cried out, with many -curses on our laggard journey.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Whiles in an 'oor, whiles in twae. She'll be -twae the day ere she's back, for the ferryman, Jock -Gellatly, is a fou' as the Baltic wi' some drink that -a young gentleman gave him."</p> -<p class="pnext">So we turned back to the harbour tavern, with all -the regrets of unsuccess.</p> -<p class="pnext">The man had said two hours, but it was nearer -three, ere that wretched shell returned, and, when it -came, 'twas with a drunken man who could scarce -stagger ashore. I was in no mood for trifling.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here, you drunken swine," I cried, "will you -take us across and be quick about it?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I maun hae anither gless o' Duncan's whusky," -said the fellow, with a leer.</p> -<p class="pnext">"By God, and you will not," I cried. "Get -aboard and make no more delay, or, by the Lord, I'll -throw you into the stream."</p> -<p class="pnext">The man hiccuped and whined. "I canna, I -canna, my bonny lad. I had ower muckle guid yill -afore I sterted, and I maun hae some whusky to keep -it doon. I'm an auld man, and the cauld air frae the -water is bad for the inside. Let me be, let me be," -and he lay down on the quay with the utter -helplessness of a sot.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Here is a devil of a mess," I cried to Nicol. -"What is to be done?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"I'll hae to tak the boat mysel', Laird," said -my servant, quietly. "If I droon ye, dinna complain."</p> -<p class="pnext">Indeed, I was in no mood for complaining at -anything which would carry me further on my quest. -With some difficulty we got the horses aboard and -penned them in the stalls. Then Nicol hoisted the -sail, and we shoved off, while I kept those at bay with -a boat-hook who sought to stop us. Once out on the -stormy waters I was beset with a thousand fears. I -have ever feared the sea, and now, as we leaped and -dived among the billows, and as the wind scoured us -like a threshing floor, and, above all, as the crazy boat -now almost lay sideways on the water, I felt a dreadful -sinking of my courage, and looked for nothing better -than immediate death. It was clear that Nicol, who -knew something of seamanship as he knew of most -things, had a hard task to keep us straight, and by his -set face and white lips, I guessed that he, too, was -not without his fears. Nevertheless, the passage -was narrow, and in less time than I had expected, -we saw a dim line of sand through the fog. Running -in there, we beached the coble, and brought the horses -splashing to shore.</p> -<p class="pnext">The place was dreary and waste, low-lying, with -a few huts facing the river. Beyond the land seemed -still flat, though, as far as the mist suffered me to see, -there seemed to be something of a rise to the right. -My feet and hands were numbed with cold, and the -wound in my wrist, which I got in scaling the wall, -smarted till it brought the water to my eyes. I was -so stiff I could scarce mount horse, and Nicol was in -no better plight.</p> -<p class="pnext">We rode to the nearest cottage and asked whither -the folk had gone who landed with the last ferry. -The woman answered gruffly that she had seen none -land, and cared not. At the next house I fared little -better; but at the third I found a young fisher lad, -who, for the sake of a silver piece, told me that they -had headed over the moor about three hours ago.</p> -<p class="pnext">"And what lies beyond the moor?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Beyond the muir," said he, "is a muckle hill they ca' -Mistilaw, a' thick wi' bogs, and ayont it there are -mair hills and mosses, and syne if ye ride on ye'll -come to Eaglesham, whaur the muirs end and the guid -lands begin. I yince was ower there wi' my faither, -aboot a cowt, and a braw bit place it is, and no like -hereaways."</p> -<p class="pnext">So Nicol and I, with dogged hearts and numbed -bodies, rode into the black heath where there was no -road. The snow had lost all hardness and was thick -and clogging to our horses' feet. We made as good -speed as we could, but that, after all, was little. -About midday we had crossed the first part of our -journey and were clambering and slipping over the -shoulder of Mistilaw. This hill is low and trivial -contrasted with our great Tweedside hills, but it well -deserves its name, for it is one vast quagmire, where -at all seasons mists and vapours hang. Beyond it, and -all through the afternoon, we struggled among low -hills and lochs. We halted at a solitary shepherd's -hut among the wilds, and ate a vile meal of braxy and -oaten-cake. Then again we set forth, and, in the -darkening, came to the wide moor which is the last -guard of the wastes and borders the pleasant vale of -the Cart.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now here I fell into a great fit of indecision. It -was clear that Gilbert and Marjory were but a little -way off in the House of Eaglesham, and I had almost -reached the end of my travels. But here my plans -came to a sudden end. Was I to ride forward and -boldly demand my cousin to let her go? I knew my -cousin's temper; he could make but one reply, and at -last some end would be placed to our feud. But with -this came another thought. Gilbert was not a man -of one device but of many. If I sought to wrest my -lady from his hands by force, it was most likely that -he would be the winner. For he was ever ripe for -high, bold and dastardly policies, and at such a time -was little likely to be punctilious.</p> -<p class="pnext">So in my extremity I fell to consulting with Nicol, -and between us we devised a plan. I liked it so well -that I lost all dismal forebodings and proceeded to put -it in action. Night fell just as we came to the -meadows above the village, and the twinkling lights of the -place served as our guides. There was an inn there -which I remembered of old time, for the innkeeper -had come originally from Tweeddale. At first I would -shun the place, but then I remembered that the man -was dead these half-dozen years, and all the place -so changed that I was secure from recognition, even -had I not been so disguised and clad. So without any -fear we rode up to the door and sought admittance.</p> -<p class="pnext">The place was roomy and wide; a clean-swept floor, -with a fire blazing on the hearth, and a goodly smell -of cooked meat everywhere. They brought us a meal, -which we ate like hungry men who had been a long -day's journey in a snow-bound world. Then I lay -back and stared at the firelight, and tried hard to fix -my mind on the things which were coming to pass. -I found it hard to determine whether I was asleep or -awake, for the events of the past hours were still mere -phantasmagoria in my memory. Through all the -bewildering maze of weariness and despair, and -scrupulosity of motive, there was still that one clear -thought branded on my mind. And now, as I sat -there, the thought was alone, without any clear -perspective of the actors or the drama to be played. I -scarce thought of Marjory, and Gilbert was little in -my mind, for the long series of cares which had been -mine for so many days had gone far to blunt my -vision, and drive me to look no further than the next -moment or the next hour. I was dull, blank, -deadened with this one unalterable intention firm in my -heart, but, God knows! little besides.</p> -<p class="pnext">About nine or ten, I know not rightly, my servant -roused me and bade me get ready. He had ordered -the landlord to have the horses round to the door, -giving I know not what excuse. I mounted without -a thought, save that the air was raw and ugly. We -rode down the silent street out on to the heath, where -the snow was deeper, and our steps all but noiseless. -The night was clear and deadly chill, piercing to the -marrow. A low snow-fog clothed the ground, and -not a sound could we hear in that great, wide world, -save our own breathing and our horses' tread. A sort -of awe took me at the silence, and it was with solemn -thoughts that I advanced.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a mile we left the heath, and, dipping down into -the valley of the stream, entered a wood of pines. -Snow powdered us from the bare boughs, and a dead -branch crackled underfoot. Then all of a sudden, -black and cold and still, from the stream-side meadows -and all girt with dark forest, rose the house. Through -the tree trunks it looked ghostly as a place of the dead. -Then I remembered that this was the hill-front, where -no habitable rooms were; so, marvelling no more at -the dearth of light, we turned sharp to the left and -came on the side looking to the river.</p> -<p class="pnext">Two lights twinkled in the place, one in the -basement, and one in the low, first story. I cast my -memory back over old days. One was from the -sitting-parlour where the old Gilbert Burnet had chosen -to spend his days, and the other—ah, I had it, 'twas -from the sleeping-room of the old Mistress Burnet, -where she had dragged out her last years and drawn -her last breath. But for these there was no other -sign of life in the house.</p> -<p class="pnext">We crossed the snowy slope to the black shadow -of the wall, where we halted and consulted. By this -time some life and spirit had come back to my -movements, and I held myself more resolutely. Now I -gave my servant his orders. "If so happen we get -Mistress Marjory safe," said I, "you will ride off -with her without delay, down the valley to the Clyde -and then straight towards Tweeddale. You will get -fresh horses at Hamilton, and till then these will serve -your purpose. Once in her own countryside there -remains nothing for you save to see that you do her -bidding in everything. If God so will it, I will not -be long in returning to you."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then, with no more words, we set our faces to our task.</p> -<p class="pnext">The light in the window above us still shone out -on the white ground. Many yards to our left another -patch of brightness marked where the other lamp -burned. There was need of caution and stillness, -else the master of the place would hear. I kicked my -shoes from my feet, though it was bitter cold, and set -myself to the scaling the wall. The distance was -little, scarce twenty feet, and the masonry was -rough-hewn and full of projecting stones, yet I found the -matter as hard as I could manage. For my hands -were numbed with the excessive chill, and the cut in -my wrist still ached like the devil. I was like to -swoon twenty times ere I reached the corner of the -window. With a sob of exhaustion I drew myself up -and stared at the curtained window.</p> -<p class="pnext">Very gently I tapped on the pane, once, twice, -three times. I heard a quick movement of surprise -within, then silence once more, as if the occupant of -the room thought it only the snow drifting. Again I -rapped, this time with a sharp knock, which men use -who wait long outside a gate in a windy night. Now -there could be no doubt of the matter. A hand drew -the curtains aside, and a timid little face peered out. -Then of a sudden the whole folds were swept back -and my lady stood before me.</p> -<p class="pnext">She wore her riding-dress still, but a shawl of some -white stuff was flung around her shoulders. There -she stood before my sight, peering forth into the -darkness, with surprise, fright, love, joy chasing one -another across her face, her dear eyes sad and tearful, -and her mouth drawn as with much sorrow, and her -light hair tossed loosely over her shoulders. It was -many lone and dismal months since I had seen her, -months filled with terrors and alarums, and -heart-sickening despair. And now, as she was almost within -my reach at last after so many days, my heart gave a -great bound, and with one leap the burden of the past -shook itself from my shoulders.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Open the window, dear," I cried, and with -trembling hands she undid the fastenings and swung -the lattice open. The next moment I had her in my -arms, and felt her heart beating close to mine, and the -soft, warm touch of her neck. "Marjory lass," I -cried, "how I have missed you, dear! But now I -have you and shall never leave you more." And -I drew her closer to me, while she could only sob the -more.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then, with a mighty effort, I recalled myself to -the immediate enterprise. The sound of the horses -shuffling the snow without forced on me the need of -action.</p> -<p class="pnext">"My servant is without with horses," I said. -"You must go with him, dear. It is our only safety. -By to-morrow you will be in Tweeddale, and in a -very little while I will come to you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But do you not go just now?" she cried, in -anxiety, still clinging to me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"No, Marjory dear," said I, soothing her as best -I could, "I cannot come yet. There are some things -which need my special care. If you think yourself, -you will see that."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Is it aught to do with Gilbert Burnet? Oh, I -dare not leave you with him. Come with me, John, -oh, come. I dare not, I dare not." And the poor -child fell to wringing her hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marjory," I said, "if you love me do as I bid -you. I will come to no scaith. I promise you I will -be with you at Dawyck ere the week is out."</p> -<p class="pnext">So she put a brave face on the matter, though her -lips still quivered. I went to the window and looked -down to where Nicol stood waiting with the horses. -Then I thought of a plan, and, finding none better, -I cried to him to mount to the window-sill, for I knew -his prowess as a climber, and the uncommon toughness -of his arm. The horses were too jaded and -spiritless to need any watching.</p> -<p class="pnext">I caught up my lady in my arms and stepped out -upon the ledge. Then very carefully and painfully I -lowered myself, still clinging to the sill, till I found -a foothold in a projecting stone. Below us were -Nicol's arms and into them I gave my burden. I -heard him clambering down by degrees, and in a very -little, for the height was small, he had reached the -ground. Then I followed him, slipping the last few -feet, and burying myself in a bank of snow.</p> -<p class="pnext">I had brought a heap of warm furs from the room, -and these I flung round my love's shoulders. My -heart ached to think of her, weary from the day's hard -riding, setting forth again into the cold of a November -night.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, John," she said, "no sooner met than -parted. It is ever our fate."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It will be the last time, dear," I said, and I -kissed her face in her hood.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then, with many injunctions to my servant, I bade -them good-bye, and watched the figure which I loved -best in all the world, disappear into the darkness. -With a sad and yet cheerful heart I turned back and -clambered again into the chamber.</p> -<p class="pnext">There were Marjory's things scattered about, as -of one who has come from a long journey. Something -on a table caught my eye, and, taking it up, -I saw it was a slip of withered heather. Then I -minded how I had given it her one summer long ago -on the Hill of Scrape.</p> -<p class="pnext">I kicked off my boots, and in utter weariness of -body and mind, I flung myself on the bed and was -soon asleep.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="i-make-my-peace-with-gilbert-burnet">CHAPTER VI</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">I MAKE MY PEACE WITH GILBERT BURNET</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I slept till dawn the dreamless sleep of those who -have drowned care in bodily exertion. It was scarce -light when I awoke, and, with the opening of the -eyes, there came with a rush the consciousness of my -errand. I leaped out of bed, and sitting on the edge -considered my further actions.</p> -<p class="pnext">First I sought to remove from my person some of -the more glaring stains of travel. There was water -in the room, bitter cold and all but frozen, and with -it I laved my face and hands.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then I opened the chamber door and stepped out -into one of the long corridors. The house was still, -though somewhere in the far distance I could hear the -bustle of servants. I cast my mind back many years, -and strove to remember where was the room where -the morning meal was served. I descended the -staircase to the broad, high hall, but still there were no -signs of other occupants. One door I tried, but it -was locked; another, with no better fate, till I began -to doubt my judgment. Then I perceived one -standing ajar, and, pushing it wide, I looked in. -Breakfast was laid on the table, and a fire smoked on -the hearth. I entered and closed the door behind me.</p> -<p class="pnext">There was a looking-glass at the far end, and, as I -entered, I caught a glimpse of my figure. Grim as -was my errand, I could have laughed aloud at the -sight. My hair unkempt, my face tanned to the -deepest brown, my strange scarlet clothes, marred as -they were by wind and weather, gave me a look so -truculent and weird that I was half afraid of myself. -And then this humour passed, and all the sufferings of -the past, the hate, the despairing love, the anxious -care came back upon me in a flood, and I felt that -such garb was fitting for such a place and such a -season.</p> -<p class="pnext">I warmed my hands at the blaze and waited. The -minutes dragged slowly, while no sound came save -the bickering of the fire and the solemn ticking of a -clock. I had not a shade of fear or perturbation. -Never in all my life had my mind been so wholly at -ease. I waited for the coming of my enemy, as one -would wait on a ferry or the opening of a gate, quiet, -calm, and fixed of purpose.</p> -<p class="pnext">At last, and it must have been a good hour, I heard -steps on the stair. Clearly my cousin had slept long -after his exertions. Nearer they came, and I heard -his voice giving some orders to the servants. Then -the door was opened, and he came in.</p> -<p class="pnext">At first sight I scarcely knew him, so changed was -he from the time of our last meeting. He was grown -much thinner and gaunter in countenance, nor was -his dress so well-cared for and trim as I remembered -him. The high, masterful look which his face always -wore had deepened into something bitter and savage, -as if he had grown half-sick of the world and cared -naught for the things which had aforetime delighted -him. His habit of scorn for all which opposed him, -and all which was beneath him, had grown on him -with his years and power, and given him that look as -of one born to command, ay, and of one to whom -suffering and pain were less than nothing. As I -looked on him I hated him deeply and fiercely, and -yet I admired him more than I could bear to think, -and gloried that he was of our family. For I have -rarely seen a nobler figure of a man. I am not little, -but in his presence I felt dwarfed. Nor was it only -in stature that he had the preëminence, for his step -was as light and his eye as keen as a master of fence.</p> -<p class="pnext">He had expected a very different figure to greet him -at the other side of the table. In place of a lissom -maid he saw a grim, rough-clad man waiting on him -with death in his eyes. I saw surprise, anger, even -a momentary spasm of fear flit across his face. He -looked at me keenly, then with a great effort he -controlled himself, and his sullen face grew hard as stone.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Good morning to you, Master John Burnet," -said he. "I am overjoyed to see you again. I had -hoped to have had a meeting with you in the past -months among your own hills of Tweedside, but the -chance was denied me. But better late than never. -I bid you welcome."</p> -<p class="pnext">I bowed. "I thank you," I said.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have another guest," said he, "whom you -know. It is a fortunate chance that you should both -be present. This old house of Eaglesham has not -held so many folk for many a long day. May I ask -when you arrived?" The man spoke all the while -with great effort, and his eyes searched my face as -though he would wrest from me my inmost thoughts.</p> -<p class="pnext">"An end to this fooling, Gilbert," I said, quietly. -"Marjory Veitch is no more in this house; with the -escort of my servant she is on her road to Tweeddale. -By this time she will be more than half-way there."</p> -<p class="pnext">He sprang at me like a wild thing, his face suddenly -inflaming with passion.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You, you—" he cried, but no words could come. -He could only stutter and gape, with murder staring -from his visage.</p> -<p class="pnext">As for me the passion in him roused in me a far -greater.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," I cried, my voice rising so that I scarce -knew it for mine. "You villain, liar, deceiver, -murderer, by the living God, the time has now come -for your deserts. You tortured my love and harassed -her with hateful captivity; you slew her brother, your -friend, slew him in his cups like the coward you are; -you drove me from my house and lands; you made me -crouch and hide in the hills like a fox, and hunted -me with your hell-hounds; you lied and killed and -tortured, but now I am free, and now you will find -that I am your master. I have longed for this day, -oh, for so long, and now you shall not escape me. -Gilbert Burnet, this earth is wide, but it is not wide -enough for you and me to live together. One or other -of us shall never go from this place."</p> -<p class="pnext">He made no answer but only looked me straight in -the face, with a look from which the rage died by -degrees. Then he spoke slowly and measuredly. -"I think you are right, Cousin John," said he, "the -world is too small for both of us. We must come to -a settlement." And in his tone there was a spice -of pity and regret. Then I knew that I had lied, and -that this man was stronger than I.</p> -<p class="pnext">For a little we stood looking across the table at each -other. There was an extraordinary attraction in the -man, and before the power of his keen eyes I felt my -wits trembling. Then, with his hand, he motioned -me to sit down. "The morning air is raw, Cousin -John. It will be better to finish our meal," and he -called to his servant to bring in breakfast.</p> -<p class="pnext">I have never eaten food in my life under stranger -circumstances. Yet I did not fear aught, but satisfied -my hunger with much readiness. As for him, he toyed -and ate little. Once I caught him looking over at -me with a shade of anxiety, of dread in his gaze. -No word passed between us, for both alike felt the -time too momentous for any light talk. As the -minutes fled I seemed to discern some change in his -manner. His brows grew heavier and he appeared to -brood over the past, while his glance sought the -pictures on the walls, and my face in turn, with -something of fierceness. When all was over he rose and -courteously made way for me to pass, holding the door -wide as I went out. Then he led me to a little room -at the other side of the hall, whence a window opened -to the garden.</p> -<p class="pnext">"You wish to be satisfied," he said, "and I grant -you that the wish is just. There are some matters -'twixt me and thee that need clearing. But, first, by -your leave, I have something to say. You believe me -guilty of many crimes, and I fling the charge in your -teeth. But one thing I did unwittingly and have often -repented of. Michael Veitch fell by his own folly and -by no fault of mine."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Let that be," said I; "I have heard another tale."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have said my say; your belief matters naught -to me. One thing I ask you. Where has the girl -Marjory gone? If fate decides against you, it is but -right I should have her."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Nay," I cried, passionately, "that you never -shall. You have caused her enough grief already. -She hates the sight of you even as I, and I will do -nothing to make her fall into your hands."</p> -<p class="pnext">"It matters little," he said, with a shrug of his -great shoulders. "It was only a trifling civility which -I sought from you. Let us get to work."</p> -<p class="pnext">From a rack he picked a blade, one such as he -always used in any serious affray, single-edged and -basket-hiked. Then he signed to me to follow, and -opened the window and stepped out.</p> -<p class="pnext">The morning was murky and damp. Fog clothed -the trees and fields, and a smell of rottenness hung -in the air. I shivered, for my clothes were thin -and old.</p> -<p class="pnext">Gilbert walked quickly, never casting a look behind -him. First we crossed the sodden lawn, and then -entered the pine wood, which I had skirted on the -night before.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a little we heard the roaring of water and came -to the banks of the stream, which, swollen by the -melting snows, was raving wildly between the barriers -of the banks. At the edge was a piece of short turf, -some hundred yards square, and drier than the rest of -the ground which we had traversed. Here Gilbert -stopped and bade me get ready. I had little to do -save cast my coat, and stand stripped and shivering, -waiting while my enemy took his ground.</p> -<p class="pnext">The next I know is that I was in the thick of a -deadly encounter, with blows rattling on my blade as -thick as hail. My cousin's eyes glared into mine, -mad with anger and regret, with all the unrequited -love and aimless scheming of months concentrated in -one fiery passion. I put forth my best skill, but it -was all I could do to keep death from me. As it was -I was scratched and grazed in a dozen places, and -there was a great hole in my shirt which the other's -blade had ripped. The sweat began to trickle over -my eyes with the exertion, and my sight was half -dazed by the rapid play.</p> -<p class="pnext">Now it so happened that I had my back to the -stream. This was the cause of my opponent's sudden -violence, for he sought to drive me backwards, that, -when I found myself near the water, I might grow -bewildered. But I had been brought up to this very -trick, for in the old days in Tweeddale, Tam Todd -would have taken his stand near the Tweed and striven -to force me back into the great pool. In my present -danger these old memories came back to me in a flood, -and in a second I was calm again. This, after all, -was only what I had done a thousand times for sport. -Could I not do it once for grim earnest?</p> -<p class="pnext">In a very little I saw that my cousin's policy of -putting all his strength out at the commencement was -like to be his ruin. He was not a man built for long -endurance, being too full in blood and heavy of body. -Soon his breath came thick and painfully; he yielded -a step, then another, and still a third; his thrusts -lacked force, and his guards were feeble. He had -changed even from that tough antagonist whom I -had aforetime encountered, and who taxed my mettle -to the utmost. Had it not been that my anger still -held my heart, and admitted no room for other -thoughts, I would even have felt some compunction -in thrusting at him. But now I had no pity in me. -A terrible desire to do to him as he had done to my -friends gripped me like a man's hand. The excitement -of the struggle, and, perhaps, the peril to my -own life, roused my dormant hate into a storm of fury. -I know not what I did, but shrieking curses and -anathemas, I slashed blindly before me like a man -killing bees. Before my sword point I saw his face -growing greyer and greyer with each passing minute. -He was a brave man, this I have always said for him; -and if any other in a like position, with an enemy at -his throat and the awful cognisance of guilt, still keeps -his stand and does not flee, him also I call brave.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly his defence ceased. His arm seemed to -numb and his blade was lowered. I checked my cut, -and waited with raised point. An awful delight was -in my heart, which now I hate and shudder to think -on. I waited, torturing him. He tried to speak, but -his mouth was parched and I heard the rattle of his -tongue. Still I delayed, for all my heat seemed turned -into deadly malice.</p> -<p class="pnext">Then his eyes left my face and looked over my -shoulders. I saw a new shade of terror enter them. -I chuckled, for now, thought I, my revenge has come. -Of a sudden he crouched with a quick movement, -bringing his hands to his face. I was in the act of -striking, when from behind came a crack, and -something whistled past my ear. Then I saw my cousin -fall, groaning, with a bullet through his neck.</p> -<p class="pnext">In a trice my rage was turned from him to the -unknown enemy behind. With that one shot all rancour -had gone from my heart. I turned, and there, -running through the trees up the river bank, I saw a man. -At the first look I recognised him, though he was -bent well-nigh double, and the air was thick with fog. -It was the fellow Jan Hamman.</p> -<p class="pnext">I ran after him at top speed, though he was many -yards ahead of me. I have never felt such lightness -in my limbs. I tore through thicket and bramble, -and leaped the brooks as easily as if I were not spent -with fighting and weak from the toils of months. -My whole being was concentrated into one fierce -attempt, for a thousand complex passions were tearing -at my heart. This man had dared to come between -us; this man had dared to slay one of my house. No -sound escaped my lips, but silently, swiftly, I sped -after the fleeing figure.</p> -<p class="pnext">He ran straight up stream, and at every step I -gained. Somewhere at the beginning he dropped his -pistol; soon he cast away his cap and cloak; and when -already he heard my hot breathing behind him he cried -out in despair and flung his belt aside. We were -climbing a higher ridge beneath which ran the stream. -I was so near that I clutched at him once and twice, -but each time he eluded me. Soon we gained the -top, and I half-stumbled while he gained a yard. -Then I gathered myself together for a great effort. -In three paces I was on him, and had him by the -hair; but my clutch was uncertain with my faintness, -and, with a wrench, he was free. Before I knew his -purpose he swerved quickly to the side, and leaped -clean over the cliff into the churning torrent below.</p> -<p class="pnext">I stood giddy on the edge, looking down. There -was nothing but a foam of yellow and white and brown -from bank to bank. No man could live in such a -stream. I turned and hastened back to my cousin.</p> -<p class="pnext">I found him lying as I had left him, with his head -bent over to the side and the blood oozing from his -neck-wound. When I came near he raised his eyes -and saw me. A gleam of something came into them; -it may have been mere recognition, but I thought it -pleasure.</p> -<p class="pnext">I kneeled beside him with no feelings other than -kindness. The sight of him lying so helpless and still -drove all anger from me. He was my cousin, one -of my own family, and, with it all, a gentleman and -a soldier.</p> -<p class="pnext">He spoke very hoarsely and small.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I am done for, John. My ill-doing has come -back on my own head. That man——"</p> -<p class="pnext">"Yes," I said, for I did not wish to trouble a man -so near his end with idle confessions, "I know, I -have heard, but that is all past and done with."</p> -<p class="pnext">"God forgive me," he said, "I did him a wrong, -but I have repaid it. Did you kill him, John?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"No," I said; "he leaped from a steep into the -stream. He will be no more heard of."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Ah," and his breath came painfully, "it is well. -Yet I could have wished that one of the family had -done the work. But it is no time to think of such -things. I am going fast, John."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then his speech failed for a little and he lay back -with a whitening face.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have done many ill deeds to you, for which I -crave your forgiveness."</p> -<p class="pnext">"You have mine with all my heart," I said, -hastily. "But there is the forgiveness of a greater, -which we all need alike. You would do well to seek it."</p> -<p class="pnext">He spoke nothing for a little. "I have lived a -headstrong, evil life," said he, "which God forgive. -Yet it is not meet to go canting to your end, when in -your health you have crossed His will."</p> -<p class="pnext">Once again there was silence for a little space. -Then he reached out his hand for mine.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I have been a fool all my days. Let us think no -more of the lass, John. We are men of the same -house, who should have lived in friendship. It was -a small thing to come between us."</p> -<p class="pnext">A wind had risen and brought with it a small, chill -rain. A gust swept past us and carried my cast-off -cloak into the bushes. "Ease my head," he gasped, -and when I hasted to do it, I was even forestalled. -For another at that moment laid His hand on him, and -with a little shudder his spirit passed to the great and -only judge of man's heart.</p> -<p class="pnext">I walked off for help with all speed, and my -thoughts were sober and melancholy. Shame had -taken me for my passion and my hot-fit of revenge; -ay, and pity and kindness for my dead opponent. The -old days when we played together by Tweed, a -thousand faint, fragrant memories came back to me, and -in this light the last shades of bitterness disappeared. -Also the great truth came home to me as I went, how -little the happiness of man hangs on gifts and graces, -and how there is naught in the world so great as the -plain virtues of honour and heart.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="of-a-voice-in-the-eventide">CHAPTER VII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">OF A VOICE IN THE EVENTIDE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Of the events of the time following there is little -need to give an exact account. There was some law -business to be gone through in connection with my -cousin's death and the disposing of the estate, which -went to an East country laird, a Whig of the Whigs, -and one like to make good and provident use of it. -Then, when I would have returned to Tweeddale, I -received a post from my good kinsman, Dr. Gilbert -Burnet, which led me first to Edinburgh and then so -far afield as London itself. For it was necessary, in -the great confusion of affairs, that I should set myself -right with the law and gain some reparation for my -some-time forfeited lands.</p> -<p class="pnext">So to the great city I went, posting by the main -road from Edinburgh, and seeing a hundred things -which were new and entertaining. I abode there -most all the winter, during the months of December, -January, February, and March, for there was much to -do and see. My lodging was in my kinsman's house -near the village of Kensington, and there I met a great -concourse of remarkable folk whose names I had heard -of and have heard of since. Notably, there were -Master John Dryden, the excellent poet, my Lord -Sandwich, and a very brisk, pleasing gentleman, one -Mr. Pepys, of the Admiralty. I had great opportunity -of gratifying my taste for books and learned society, -for my kinsman's library was an excellent one, and -his cellars so good that they attracted all conditions -of folk to his house. Also I had many chances of -meeting with gentlemen of like degree with myself, -and many entertaining diversions we had together. -Nor did I neglect those in Tweeddale, for I sent news -by near every post that went to the North.</p> -<p class="pnext">But when the spring came, and there was no further -need for tarrying in the South, with a light heart I net -off homewards once more. I journeyed by -Peterborough and York in the company of one Sir -C. Cotterell, a gentleman of Northumberland, and abode -two days at his house in the moors, where there was -excellent fishing. Then I came northwards by the -great Northumberland road by the towns of Newcastle -and Morpeth, and crossed the Cheviot Hills, which -minded me much of my own glen. At Coldstream -I crossed the Tweed, which is there grown a very -broad, noble river, and then rode with all speed over -the Lammermoors to Edinburgh. I stayed there no -longer than my duty demanded; and when all was -settled, one bright spring day, just after midday, set -out for Barns.</p> -<p class="pnext">The day, I remember, was one of surprising brightness, -clear, sunshiny, and soft as midsummer. There -are few ways I know better than that from the capital -to my home—the bare, windy moorlands for one half, -and the green glens and pleasant waters of the other. -It was by this road that I had come to Leith to ship -for Holland; by this road that I had ridden on that -wild night ride to Dawyck. Each spot of the -wayside was imprinted on my memory, and now that my -wanderings were over, and I was returning to peace -and quiet, all things were invested with a new delight. -Yet my pleasure was not of the brisk, boisterous order, -for my many misfortunes had made me a graver man, -and chastened my natural spirits to a mellow and -abiding cheerfulness.</p> -<p class="pnext">At Leadburn was the inn where I had first met my -servant Nicol, my trusty comrade through so many -varying fates. I drank a glass of wine at the place -for no other cause than a sentimental remembrance. -The old landlord was still there, and the idle ostlers -hung around the stable doors, as when I had passed -before. Down in the bog-meadow the marsh-marigolds -were beginning to open, and the lambs from the -hillside bleated about their mothers. The blue, -shell-like sky overhead arched without a cloud to the green, -distant hills.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I came to the place on the Tweedside road, -called the Mount Bog, I dismounted and lay down on -the grass. For there the view opens to the hills of -my own countryside. A great barrier of blue, seamed -with glens, all scarred in spots with rock and shingle, -lifting serene brows from the little ridges to the wide -expanse of the heavens. I named them one by one -from east to west—Minchmoor, though it was hidden -from sight, where fled the great Montrose after the -fatal rout of Philiphaugh; the broad foreheads of the -Glenrath heights above my own vale of Manor, Dollar -Law, Scrape, the Drummelzier fells, the rugged -Wormel, and, fronting me, the great Caerdon, with -snow still lining its crannies. Beyond, still further and -fainter lines of mountain, till like a great tableland the -monstrous mass of the Broad Law barred the distance. -It was all so calm and fragrant, with not a sound on -the ear but the plash of little streams and the boom -of nesting snipe. And above all there was the thought -that now all peril had gone, and I was free to live as -I listed and enjoy life as a man is born to do, and -skulk no more at dyke-sides, and be torn no longer -by hopeless passion.</p> -<p class="pnext">When I rode through the village of Broughton and -came to the turn of the hill at Dreva, the sun was -already westering. The goodly valley, all golden -with evening light, lay beneath me. Tweed was one -belt of pure brightness, flashing and shimmering by -its silver shores and green, mossy banks. Every -wood waved and sparkled in a fairy glow, and the hills -above caught the radiance on their broad bosoms. I -have never seen such a sight, and for me at that hour -it seemed the presage of my home-coming. I have -rarely felt a more serene enjoyment, for it put me at -peace with all the earth, and gilded even the -nightmare of the past with a remembered romance. To -crown it there was that melodious concert of birds, -which one may hear only on such a night in this -sweet time o' year. Throstles and linnets and the -shriller mountain larks sang in the setting daylight, till -I felt like some prince in an eastern tale who has found -the talisman and opened the portals of the Golden Land.</p> -<p class="pnext">Down the long, winding hill-path I rode, watching -the shadows flit before me, and thinking strange -thoughts. Fronting me over the broad belt of -woodland, I saw the grey towers of Dawyck, and the green -avenues of grass running straight to the hill.</p> -<p class="pnext">By and by the road took me under the trees, among -the cool shades and the smell of pine and budding -leaves. There was a great crooning of wood-doves, -and the sighing of the tenderest breezes. Shafts of -light still crept among the trunks, but the soft -darkness of spring was almost at hand. My heart was -filled with a great exaltation. The shadow of the past -seemed to slip from me like an old garment.</p> -<p class="pnext">Suddenly I stopped, for somewhere I heard a faint -melody, the voice of a girl singing. 'Twas that voice -I would know among ten thousand, the only one in -all the world for me. I pulled up my horse and -listened as the notes grew clearer, and this was what -she sang:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"First shall the heavens want starry light,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The seas be robbèd of their waves;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">The day want sun, the sun want bright,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The night want shade, and dead men graves;</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The April, flowers and leaf and tree,</div> -<div class="line">Before I false my faith to thee.</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">To thee, to thee."</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">There came a pause, and then again, in the fragrant -gloaming, the air went on:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"First shall the tops of highest hills</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">By humble plains be overpry'd;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And poets scorn the Muses' quills,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And fish forsake the water-glide;</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And Iris lose her coloured weed</div> -<div class="line">Before I fail thee at thy need."</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">I stood in shadow and watched her as she came in -sight, sauntering up the little, green glade, with a -basket of spring flowers swinging on her arm. Her -hat of white satin hung loose over her hair, and as she -walked lightly, now in the twilight, now in a sudden -shaft of the western sun, she looked fairer than aught -I had ever seen. Once more she sang with her clear -voice:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"First direful Hate shall turn to Peace,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And Love relent in deep disdain;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And Death his fatal stroke shall cease,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And Envy pity every pain;</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And Pleasure mourn, and Sorrow smile,</div> -<div class="line">Before I talk of any guile."</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">But now the darkness had come in good earnest, and -I could scarce see the singer. "First Time shall -stay," the voice went on:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"First Time shall stay his stayless race,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And Winter bless his brows with corn;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">And snow bemoisten July's face,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">And Winter, Spring and Summer mourn."</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">Here the verse stopped short, for I stepped out and -stood before her.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, you have come back," she cried. "At last, -and I have looked so long for you."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Indeed, dear lass, I have come back, and by -God's grace to go no more away."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then leading my horse, I walked by her side down -the broad path to the house. We spoke nothing, our -hearts being too busy with the delights of each other's -presence. The crowning stone was added to my -palace of joy, and in that moment it seemed as if earth -could contain no more of happiness, and that all the -sorrows of the past were well worth encountering for -the ecstasy of the present. To be once more in my -own land, with my own solemn hills looking down -upon me, and that fair river wandering by wood and -heather, and my lady at my side, was not that -sufficient for any man? The purple, airy dark, odorous -with spring scents, clung around us, and in the pauses -of silence the place was so still that our ears heard -naught save the drawing of our breath.</p> -<p class="pnext">At the lawn of Dawyck I stopped and took her -hands in mine.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Marjory," I said, "once, many years ago, you -sang me a verse and made me a promise. I cannot -tell how bravely you have fulfilled it. You have -endured all my hardships, and borne me company -where I bade you, and now all is done with and we -are returned to peace and our own place. Now it is -my turn for troth-plighting, and I give you it with all -my heart. God bless you, my own dear maid." And -I repeated softly:</p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line">"First shall the heavens want starry light,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The seas be robbèd of their waves;</div> -</div> -<div class="line">The day want sun, the sun want bright,</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The night want shade, and dead men graves;</div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line">The April, flowers and leaf and tree,</div> -<div class="line">Before I false my faith to thee."</div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst">And I kissed her and bade farewell, with the echo -still ringing in my ears, "to thee, to thee."</p> -<p class="pnext">I rode through the great shadows of the wood, -scarce needing to pick my path in a place my horse -knew so well, for once again I was on Maisie. The -stillness clung to me like a garment, and out of it, -from high up on the hillside, came a bird's note, -clear, tremulous, like a bell. Then the trees ceased, -and I was out on the shorn, green banks, 'neath which -the river gleamed and rustled. Then, all of a sudden, -I had rounded the turn of the hill, and there, before -me in the dimness, stood the old grey tower, which -was mine and had been my fathers' since first man -tilled a field in the dale. I crossed the little bridge -with a throbbing heart, and lo! there was the smell -of lilac and gean-tree blossom as of old coming in great -gusts from the lawn. Then all was confusion and -much hurrying about and a thousand kindly greetings. -But in especial I remember Tam Todd, the placid, -the imperturbable, who clung to my hand, and sobbed -like the veriest child, "Oh, Laird, ye've been lang -o' comin'."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="how-nicol-plenderleith-sought-his-fortune-elsewhere">CHAPTER VIII</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">HOW NICOL PLENDERLEITH SOUGHT HIS FORTUNE ELSEWHERE</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">Now, at last, I am come to the end of my tale, and -have little more to set down. It was on a very fresh, -sweet May morning, that Marjory and I were married -in the old Kirk of Lyne, which stands high on a knoll -above the Lyne Water, with green hills huddled around -the door. There was a great concourse of people, -for half the countryside dwelled on our land. -Likewise, when all was done, there was the greatest feast -spread in Barns that living man had ever seen. The -common folk dined without on tables laid on the green, -while within the walls the gentry from far and near -drank long life and health to us till sober reason fled -hot-foot and the hilarity grew high. But in a little -all was over, the last guest had clambered heavily on -his horse and ridden away, and we were left alone.</p> -<p class="pnext">The evening, I remember, was one riot of golden -light and rich shadow. The sweet-scented air stole -into the room with promise of the fragrant out-of-doors, -and together we went out to the lawn and thence -down by the trees to the brink of Tweed, and along -by the great pool and the water-meadows. The glitter -of that brave, romantic stream came on my sight, as -a sound of old music comes on the ears, bringing a -thousand half-sad, half-joyful memories. All that life -held of fair was in it—the rattle and clash of arms, -the valour of men, the loveliness of women, the glories -of art and song, the wonders of the great mother earth, -and the re-creations of the years. And as we walked -together, I and my dear lady, in that soft twilight in -the green world, a peace, a delight, a settled hope -grew upon us, and we went in silence, speaking no -word the one to the other. By and by we passed -through the garden where the early lilies stood in white -battalions, and entered the dining-hall.</p> -<p class="pnext">A band of light lay on the east wall where hung the -portraits of my folk. One was a woman, tall and -comely, habited in a grey satin gown of antique -fashion.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Who was she?" Marjory asked, softly.</p> -<p class="pnext">"She was my mother, a Stewart of Traquair, a -noble lady and a good. God rest her soul."</p> -<p class="pnext">"And who is he who stands so firmly and keeps -hand on sword?"</p> -<p class="pnext">"That was my father's brother who stood last at -Philiphaugh, when the Great Marquis was overthrown. -And he with the curled moustachios was his father, -my grandfather, of whom you will yet hear in the -countryside. And beyond still is his father, the one -with the pale, grave face, and solemn eyes. He died -next his king at the rout of Flodden. God rest them -all; they were honest gentlemen."</p> -<p class="pnext">Then there was silence for a space, while the light -faded, and the old, stately dames looked down at us -from their frames with an air, as it seemed to me, all -but kindly, as if they laughed to see us playing -in the old comedy which they had played themselves.</p> -<p class="pnext">I turned to her, with whom I had borne so many -perils.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Dear heart," I said, "you are the best and fairest -of them all. These old men and women lived in -other times, when life was easy and little like our -perplexed and difficult years. Nevertheless, the virtue -of old times is the same as for us, and if a man take -but the world as he find it, and set himself manfully -to it with good heart and brave spirit, he will find -the way grow straight under his feet. Heaven bless -you, dear, for now we are comrades together on -the road, to cheer each other when the feet grow -weary."</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">On the morning of the third day from the time I -have written of, I was surprised by seeing my servant, -Nicol, coming into my study with a grave face, as if -he had some weighty matter to tell. Since I had -come home, I purposed to keep him always with me, -to accompany me in sport and see to many things on -the land, which none could do better than he. Now -he sought an audience with a half-timid, bashful look, -and, when I bade him be seated, he flicked his boots -uneasily with his hat and looked askance.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I hae come to bid ye fareweel, sir," at length he -said, slowly.</p> -<p class="pnext">I sprang up in genuine alarm.</p> -<p class="pnext">"What nonsense is this?" I cried. "You know -fine, Nicol, that you cannot leave me. We have -been too long together."</p> -<p class="pnext">"I maun gang," he repeated, sadly; "I'm loth to -dae 't, but there's nae help for 't."</p> -<p class="pnext">"But what?" I cried. "Have I not been a good -friend to you, and your comrade in a thousand perils? -Is there anything I can do more for you? Tell me, -and I will do it."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Na, na, Maister John, ye've aye been the best o' -maisters. I've a' thing I could wish; dinna think -I'm no gratefu'."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then for Heaven's sake tell me the reason, -man. I never thought you would treat me like -this, Nicol."</p> -<p class="pnext">"Oh, sir, can ye no see?" the honest fellow cried -with tears in his eyes. "Ye've been sae lang wi' -me, that I thocht ye kenned my natur'. Fechtin' -and warstlin' and roamin' aboot the warld are the very -breath o' life to me. I see ye here settled sae braw -and canty, and the auld hoose o' Barns lookin' like -itsel' again. And I thinks to mysel', 'Nicol -Plenderleith, lad, this is no for you. This is no the kind -of life that ye can lead. Ye've nae mair business -here than a craw among throstles.' And the thocht -maks me dowie, for I canna get by 't. I whiles -think o' mysel' bidin' quiet here and gettin' aulder -and aulder, till the time passes when I'm still brisk -and venturesome, and I'm left to naething but regrets. -I maun be up and awa', Laird, I carena whither. -We a' made different, and I was aye queer and daft -and no like ither folk. Ye winna blame me."</p> -<p class="pnext">I tried to dissuade him, but it was to no purpose. -He heard me patiently, but shook his head. I did -not tax him with ingratitude, for I knew how little -the charge was founded. For myself I was more sorry -than words, for this man was joined to me by ties of -long holding. I longed to see him beside me at Barns, -an unceasing reminder of my stormy days. I longed -to have his sage counsel in a thousand matters, to -have him at my hand when I took gun to the hills -or rod to the river. I had grown to love his -wind-beaten face and his shrewd, homely talk, till I counted -them as necessary parts of my life. And now all such -hopes were dashed, and he was seeking to leave me.</p> -<p class="pnext">"But where would you go?" I asked.</p> -<p class="pnext">"I kenna yet," he said. "But there's aye things -for man like me somewhere on the earth. I'm -thinkin' o' gaun back to the abroad, whaur there's -like to be a steer for some time to come. It's the -life I want and no guid-fortine or bad-fortine, so I -carena what happens. I trust I may see ye again, -Maister John, afore I dee."</p> -<p class="pnext">There was nothing for it but to agree, and agree -I did, though with a heavy heart and many regrets. -I gave him a horse to take him to Leith, and offered -him a sum of money. This he would have none of, -but took, instead, a pair of little old pistols which had -been my father's.</p> -<p class="pnext">I never saw him again, though often I have desired -it, but years after I heard of him, and that in the -oddest way. I corresponded to some little extent with -folk in the Low Countries, and in especial with one -Master Ebenezer van Gliecken, a learned man and -one of great humour in converse. It was at the time -when there was much fighting between the French -and the Dutch, and one morn I received a letter from -this Master van Gliecken, written from some place -whose name I have forgot, a rascally little Holland -town in the south. He wrote of many things—of -some points in Latin scholarship, of the vexatious and -most unpolitic state of affairs in the land, and finally -concluded with this which I transcribe.... -"Lastly, my dear Master John, I will tell you a tale -which, as it concerns the glory of your countrymen, -you may think worth hearing. As you know well, -this poor town of ours has lately been the centre of a -most bloody strife, for the French forces have assaulted -it on all sides, and though by God's grace they have -failed to take it, yet it has suffered many sore -afflictions. In particular there was a fierce attack made -upon the side which fronts the river, both by boat and -on foot. On the last day of the siege, a sally was made -from the gate of the corner tower, which, nevertheless, -was unsuccessful, our men being all but enclosed -and some of the enemy succeeding in entering the -gate. One man in particular, a Scot, as I have heard, -Nicolo Plenderleet by name, with two others who were -both slain, made his way to the battlements. The -gate was shut, and, to all appearance, his death was -certain. But they knew not the temper of their -enemy, for springing on the summit of the wall, he -dared all to attack him. When the defenders pressed -on he laid about him so sturdily that three fell under -his sword.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Then when he could no longer make resistance, -and bullets were pattering around him like hail, and -his cheek was bleeding with a deep wound, his spirit -seemed to rise the higher. For, shouting out taunts -to his opponents, he broke into a song, keeping time -all the while with the thrusts of his sword. Then -bowing gallantly, and saluting with his blade his ring -of foes, he sheathed his weapon, and joining his hands -above his head, dived sheer and straight into the river, -and, swimming easily, reached the French lines. At -the sight those of his own side cheered, and even our -men, whom he had so tricked, could scarce keep from -joining.</p> -<p class="pnext">"Touching the editions which you desired, I have -given orders to the bookseller on the quay at -Rotterdam to send them to you. I shall be glad, indeed, -to give you my poor advice on the difficult matters -you speak of, if you will do me the return favour of -reading through my excursus to Longinus, and giving -me your veracious opinion. Of this I send you a copy.</p> -<p class="pnext">"As regards the Scot I have already spoken of, I -may mention for your satisfaction that in person he -was tall and thin, with black hair, and the most -bronzed skin I have ever seen on a man...."</p> -<p class="pnext">When I read this letter to Marjory, her eyes were -filled with tears, and for myself I would speak to no -one on that day.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst" id="the-end-of-all-things">CHAPTER IX</p> -<div class="center large vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center large pfirst">THE END OF ALL THINGS</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst">I am writing the last words of this tale in my house -of Barns after many years have come and gone since -the things I wrote of. I am now no more young, and -my wife is no more a slim maid, but a comely woman. -The years have been years of peace and some measure -of prosperity. Here in Tweeddale life runs easily and -calm. Our little country matters are all the care we -know, and from the greater world beyond there comes -only chance rumours of change and vexation. Yet the -time has not been idle, for I have busied myself much -with study and the care of the land. Many have -sought to draw me out to politics and statecraft, but -I have ever resisted them, for after all what are these -things of such importance that for them a man should -barter his leisure and piece of mind? So I have even -stayed fast in this pleasant dale, and let the bustle and -clamour go on without my aid.</p> -<p class="pnext">It is true that more than once I have made journeys -even across the water, and many times to London, -on matters of private concern. It was during one -of these visits to Flanders that I first learned the -importance of planting wood on land, and resolved to -make trial on my own estate. Accordingly I set -about planting on Barns, and now have clothed some -of the barer spaces of the hills with most flourishing -plantations of young trees, drawn in great part from -the woods of Dawyck. I can never hope to reap the -benefit of them myself, but haply my grandchildren -will yet bless me, when they find covert and shade -where before was only a barren hillside.</p> -<p class="pnext">Also in Tweed I have made two caulds, both for -the sake of the fish and to draw off streams to water -the meadows. In the wide reaches of water in Stobo -Haughs I have cut down much of the encumbering -brushwood and thus laid the places open for fishing -with the rod. Also with much labour I have made -some little progress in clearing the channel of the river -in places where it is foully overlaid with green weed. -The result, I am pleased to think, has been good, and -the fish thrive and multiply. At any rate, I can now -make baskets that beforetime were counted impossible. -My crowning triumph befell me two years ago in a -wet, boisterous April, when, fishing with a minnow -in the pool above Barns, I landed a trout of full six -pound weight.</p> -<p class="pnext">The land, which had fallen into neglect in my -father's time and my own youth, I did my utmost to -restore, and now I have the delight of seeing around -me many smiling fields and pleasant dwellings. In -the house of Barns itself I have effected many changes, -for it had aforetime been liker a border keep than an -orderly dwelling. But now, what with many works -of art and things of interest gathered from my travels -abroad, and, above all, through the dainty fingers of -my wife, the place has grown gay and well-adorned, -so that were any of its masters of old time to revisit -it they would scarce know it for theirs.</p> -<p class="pnext">But the work which throughout these years has lain -most near to my heart has been the studies which I -have already spoken of. The fruit of them, to be -sure, is less than the labour, but still I have not been -idle. I have already in this tale told of my exposition -of the philosophy of the Frenchman Descartes, with -my own additions, and my writings on the philosophy -of the Greeks, and especially of the Neo-Platonists—both -of which I trust to give to the world at an early -time. As this story of my life will never be -published, it is no breach of modesty here to counsel all, -and especially those of my own family, who may see -it, to give their attention to my philosophical treatises. -For though I do not pretend to have any deep learning -or extraordinary subtlety in the matter, it has yet been -my good fate, as I apprehend it, to notice many things -which have escaped the eyes of others. Also I think -that my mind, since it has ever been clear from -sedentary humours and the blunders which come from mere -knowledge of books, may have had in many matters a -juster view and a clearer insight.</p> -<p class="pnext">Of my own folk I have little to tell. Tam Todd -has long since gone the way of all the earth, and lies -in Lyne Kirkyard with a flat stone above him. New -faces are in Barns and Dawyck, and there scarce -remains one of the old serving-men who aided me in my -time of misfortune. Also many things have changed -in all the countryside, and they from whom I used to -hear tales as a boy are now no more on the earth. In -Peebles there are many new things, and mosses are -drained and moors measured out, till the whole land -wears a trimmer look. But with us all is still the -same, for I have no fancy for change in that which -I loved long ago, and would fain still keep the -remembrance. Saving that I have planted the hillsides, I -have let the moors and marshes be, and to-day the -wild-duck and snipe are as thick on my land as of old.</p> -<p class="pnext">As for myself, I trust I have outgrown the -braggadocio and folly of youth. God send I may not have -also outgrown its cheerfulness and spirit! For certain -I am a graver man and less wont to set my delight in -trifles. Of old I was the slave of little -things—weather, scene, company; but advancing age has -brought with it more of sufficiency unto myself. -The ringing of sword and bridle has less charm, since -it is the reward of years that a man gets more to the -core of a matter and has less care for externals. Yet -I can still feel the impulses of high passion, the glory -of the chase, the stirring of the heart at a martial tale. -Now, as I write, things are sorely changed in the land. -For though peace hangs over us at home, I fear it is -a traitor's peace at the best, and more horrific than -war. Time-servers and greedy sycophants sit in high -places, and it is hard to tell if generous feeling be not -ousted by a foul desire of gain. It is not for me to -say. I have no love for king or parliament, though -much for my country. I am no hot-headed king's -man; nay, I never was; but when they who rely upon -us are sold for a price, when oaths are broken and -honour driven away, I am something less of one than -before. It may be that the old kings were better, -who ruled with a strong hand, though they oft ruled -ill. But, indeed, I can say little; here in this valley -of Tweed a man hears of such things only as one hears -the roar of a stormy sea from a green inland vale.</p> -<p class="pnext">As I write these last words, I am sitting in my old -library at Barns, looking forth of the narrow window -over the sea of landscape. The afternoon is just -drawing to evening, the evening of a hot August day, -which is scarce less glorious than noon. From the -meadow come the tinkling of cattle bells and the gentle -rise and fall of the stream. Elsewhere there is no -sound, for the summer weather hangs low and heavy -on the land. Just beyond rise the barrier ridges, green -and shimmering, and behind all the sombre outlines -of the great hills. Below in the garden my wife is -plucking flowers to deck the table, and playing with -the little maid, who is but three years old to-day. -Within the room lie heavy shadows and the mellow -scent of old books and the faint fragrance of blossoms.</p> -<p class="pnext">And as I look forth on this glorious world, I know -not whether to be glad or sad. All the years of my -life stretch back till I see as in a glass the pageant of -the past. Faint regrets come to vex me, but they -hardly stay, and, as I look and think, I seem to learn -the lesson of the years, the great precept of time. And -deep in all, more clear as the hours pass and the -wrappings fall off, shines forth the golden star of honour, -which, if a man follow, though it be through -quagmire and desert, fierce faces and poignant sorrow, -'twill bring him at length to a place of peace.</p> -<p class="pnext">But these are words of little weight and I am too -long about my business. Behold how great a tale -I have written unto you. Take it, and, according to -your pleasure, bless or ban the narrator. Haply it -will help to while away a winter's night, when the -doors are barred and the great logs crackle, and the -snow comes over Caerdon.</p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="backmatter"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst" id="pg-end-line">*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK <span>JOHN BURNET OF BARNS</span> ***</p> -<div class="cleardoublepage"> -</div> -<div class="language-en level-2 pgfooter section" id="a-word-from-project-gutenberg" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<span id="pg-footer"></span><h2 class="level-2 pfirst section-title title">A Word from Project Gutenberg</h2> -<p class="pfirst">We will update this book if we find any errors.</p> -<p class="pnext">This book can be found under: <a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40014"><span>http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/40014</span></a></p> -<p class="pnext">Creating the works from public domain print editions 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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