diff options
Diffstat (limited to 'old/43732.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | old/43732.txt | 10623 |
1 files changed, 0 insertions, 10623 deletions
diff --git a/old/43732.txt b/old/43732.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6965bb2..0000000 --- a/old/43732.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10623 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shoes of Fortune, by Neil Munro - -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 Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: The Shoes of Fortune - -Author: Neil Munro - -Illustrator: A. S. Boyd - -Release Date: September 15, 2013 [EBook #43732] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHOES OF FORTUNE *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger - - - - - - -THE SHOES OF FORTUNE - -HOW THEY BROUGHT TO MANHOOD LOVE ADVENTURE AND CONTENT AS ALSO INTO -DIVERS PERILS ON LAND AND SEA IN FOREIGN PARTS AND IN AN ALIEN ARMY PAUL -GREIG OF THE HAZEL DEN IN SCOTLAND ONE TIME PURSER OF 'THE SEVEN SISTERS' -BRIGANTINE OF HULL AND LATE LIEUTENANT IN THE REGIMENT D'AUVERGNE ALL -AS WRIT BY HIM AND NOW FOR THE FIRST TIME SET FORTH - -By Neil Munro - -Illustrated by A. S. Boyd - - - - - -THE SHOES OF FORTUNE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -NARRATES HOW I CAME TO QUIT THE STUDY OF LATIN AND THE LIKE, AND TAKE TO -HARD WORK IN A MOORLAND COUNTRY - -It is an odd thing, chance--the one element to baffle the logician and -make the scheming of the wisest look as foolish in the long run as the -sandy citadel a child builds upon the shore without any thought of the -incoming tide. A strange thing, chance; and but for chance I might this -day be the sheriff of a shire, my head stuffed with the tangled phrase -and sentiment of interlocutors, or maybe no more than an advocate -overlooked, sitting in John's Coffeehouse in Edinburgh--a moody soured -man with a jug of claret, and cursing the inconsistencies of preferment -to office. I might have been that, or less, if it had not been for so -trifling a circumstance as the burning of an elderly woman's batch of -scones. Had Mistress Grant a more attentive eye to her Culross griddle, -what time the scones for her lodgers, breakfast were a-baking forty -years ago, I would never have fled furth my native land in a mortal -terror of the gallows: had her griddle, say, been higher on the -swee-chain by a link or two, Paul Greig would never have foregathered -with Dan Risk, the blackguard skipper of a notorious craft; nor pined -in a foreign jail; nor connived, unwitting, at a prince's murder; nor -marched the weary leagues of France and fought there on a beggar's -wage. And this is not all that hung that long-gone day upon a woman's -stair-head gossip to the neglect of her _cuisine_, for had this woman -been more diligent at her baking I had probably never seen my Isobel -with a lover's eye. - -Well, here's one who can rarely regret the past except that it is gone. -It was hard, it was cruel often; dangers the most curious and unexpected -beset me, and I got an insight to deep villainies whereof man may be -capable; yet on my word, if I had the parcelling out of a second life -for myself, I think I would have it not greatly differing from the -first, that seems in God's providence like to end in the parish where -it started, among kent and friendly folk. I would not swear to it, yet I -fancy I would have Lucky Grant again gossiping on her stair-head and -her scones burned black, that Mackellar, my fellow-lodger, might make me -once more, as he used to do, the instrument of his malcontent. - -I mind, as it were yesterday, his gloomy look at the platter that morn's -morning. "Here they are again!" cried he, "fired to a cinder; it's -always that with the old wife, or else a heart of dough. For a bawbee I -would throw them in her face." - -"Well, not so much as that." said I, "though it is mighty provoking." - -"I'm not thinking of myself," said he, always glooming at the platter -with his dark, wild Hielan' eye. "I'm not thinking of myself," said he, -"but it's something by way of an insult to you, that had to complain of -Sunday's haddocks." - -"Oh, as to them," quo' I, "they did brawly for me; 'twas you put your -share in your pocket and threw it away on the Green. Besides the scones -are not so bad as they look"--I broke one and ate; "they're owre good at -least for a hungry man like me to send back where they came from." - -His face got red. "What's that rubbish about the haddocks and the -Green?" said he. "You left me at my breakfast when you went to the Ram's -Horn Kirk." - -"And that's true, Jock," said I; "but I think I have made no' so bad a -guess. You were feared to affront the landlady by leaving her ancient -fish on the ashet, and you egged me on to do the grumbling." - -"Well, it's as sure as death, Paul," said he shamefacedly, "I hate to -vex a woman. And you're a thought wrong in your guess"--he laughed at -his own humour as he said it--"for when you were gone to your kirk I -transferred my share of the stinking fish to your empty plate." - -He jouked his head, but scarcely quick enough, for my Sallust caught him -on the ear. He replied with a volume of Buchanan the historian, the man -I like because he skelped the Lord's anointed, James the First, and for -a time there was war in Lucky Grant's parlour room, till I threw him -into the recess bed snibbed the door, and went abroad into the street -leaving my room-fellow for once to utter his own complaints. - -I went out with the itch of battle on me, and that was the consequence -of a woman's havering while scones burned, and likewise my undoing, -for the High Street when I came to it was in the yeasty ferment of -encountering hosts, their cries calling poor foolish Paul Greig like a -trumpet. - -It had been a night and morning of snow, though I and Mackellar, so high -in Lucky Grant's chamber in Crombie's Land, had not suspected it. The -dull drab streets, with their crazy, corbelled gable-ends, had been -transformed by a silent miracle of heaven into something new and clean; -where noisome gutters were wont to brim with slops there was the napkin -of the Lord. - -For ordinary I hated this town of my banishment; hated its tun-bellied -Virginian merchants, so constantly airing themselves upon the Tontine -piazza and seeming to suffer from prosperity as from a disease; and felt -no great love of its women--always so much the madame to a drab-coated -lad from the moorlands; suffered from its greed and stifled with the -stinks of it. "Gardyloo! Gardyloo! Gardyloo!" Faith! I hear that evening -slogan yet, and see the daunderers on the Rottenrow skurry like rats -into the closes to escape the cascades from the attic windows. And while -I think I loved learning (when it was not too ill to come by), and was -doing not so bad in my Humanities, the carven gateway of the college -in my two sessions of a scholar's fare never but scowled upon me as I -entered. - -But the snow that morning made of the city a place wherein it was good -to be young, warm-clad, and hardy. It silenced the customary traffic of -the street, it gave the morning bells a song of fairydom and the valleys -of dream; up by-ordinary tall and clean-cut rose the crow-stepped walls, -the chimney heads, and steeples, and I clean forgot my constant fancy -for the hill of Ballageich and the heather all about it. And war raged. -The students faced 'prentice lads and the journeymen of the crafts -with volleys of snowballs; the merchants in the little booths ran -out tremulous and vainly cried the watch. Charge was made and -counter-charge; the air was thick with missiles, and close at hand -the silver bells had their merry sweet chime high over the city of my -banishment drowned by the voices taunting and defiant. - -Merry was that day, but doleful was the end of it, for in the fight -I smote with a snowball one of the bailies of the burgh, who had come -waving his three-cocked hat with the pomp and confidence of an elected -man and ordering an instant stoppage of our war: he made more ado about -the dignity of his office than the breakage of his spectacles, and I was -haled before my masters, where I fear I was not so penitent as prudence -would advise. - -Two days later my father came in upon Dawson's cart to convoy me -home. He saw the Principal, he saw the regents of the college, and up, -somewhat clashed and melancholy, he climbed to my lodging. Mackellar -fled before his face as it had been the face of the Medusa. - -"Well, Paul," said my father, "it seems we made a mistake about your -birthday." - -"Did you?" said I, without meaning, for I knew he was ironical. - -"It would seem so, at any rate," said he, not looking my airt at all, -but sideways to the window and a tremor in his voice. "When your mother -packed your washing last Wednesday and slipped the siller I was not -supposed to see into a stocking-foot, she said, 'Now he's twenty and the -worst of it over.' Poor woman! she was sadly out of her reckoning. I'm -thinking I have here but a bairn of ten. You should still be at the -dominie's." - -"I was not altogether to blame, father," I cried. "The thing was an -accident." - -"Of course, of course," said he soothingly. "Was't ever otherwise when -the devil joggled an elbow? Whatever it was, accident or design, it's a -session lost. Pack up, Paul, my very young boy, and we'll e'en make our -way quietly from this place where they may ken us." - -He paid the landlady her lawing, with sixpence over for her -motherliness, whereat she was ready to greet, and he took an end of my -blue kist down the stairs with me, and over with it like a common porter -to the carrier's stance. - -A raw, raining day, and the rough highways over the hoof with slush of -melted snow, we were a chittering pair as we drove under the tilt of the -cart that came to the Mearns to meet us, and it was a dumb and solemn -home-coming for me. - -Not that I cared much myself, for my lawyership thus cracked in the -shell, as it were I had been often seized with the notion that six -feet of a moor-lander, in a lustre gown and a horse-hair wig and a blue -shalloon bag for the fees, was a wastry of good material. But it was -the dad and her at home I thought of, and could put my neck below the -cartwheel for distressing. I knew what he thought of as he sat in the -cart corner, for many a time he had told me his plans; and now they were -sadly marred. I was to get as much as I could from the prelections of -Professor Reid, work my way through the furrows of Van Eck, Van Muyden, -and the Pandects, then go to Utrecht or Groningen for the final baking, -and come back to the desk of Coghill and Sproat, Writers to the Signet, -in Spreull's Land of Edinburgh; run errands between that dusty hole and -the taverns of Salamander Land, where old Sproat (that was my father's -doer) held long sederunts with his clients, to write a thesis finally, -and graduate at the art of making black look--not altogether white -perhaps, but a kind of dirty grey. I had been even privileged to try a -sampling of the lawyer's life before I went to college, in the chambers -of MacGibbon of Lanark town, where I spent a summer (that had been more -profitably passed in my father's fields), backing letters, fair-copying -drafts of lease and process, and indexing the letter-book. The last I -hated least of all, for I could have a half-sheet of foolscap between -the pages, and under MacGibbon's very nose try my hand at something -sombre in the manner of the old ancient ballads of the Border. Doing -that same once, I gave a wild cry and up with my inky hand and shook it. -"Eh! eh!" cried MacGibbon, thinking I had gone mad. "What ails ye?" "He -struck me with his sword!" said I like a fool, not altogether out of my -frenzy; and then the snuffy old body came round the corner of the desk, -keeked into the letter-book where I should have been doing his work, and -saw that I was wasting good paper with clinking trash. "Oh, sirs! sirs! -I never misused a minute of my youth in the like of that!" said he, -sneering, and the sneer hurt. "No, I daresay not," I answered him. -"Perhaps ye never had the inclination--nor the art." - -I have gone through the world bound always to say what was in me, and -that has been my sore loss more than once; but to speak thus to an old -man, who had done me no ill beyond demonstrating the general world's -attitude to poetry and men of sentiment, was the blackest insolence. He -was well advised to send me home for a leathering at my father's hands. -And I got the leathering, too, though it was three months after. I had -been off in the interim upon a sloop ship out of Ayr. - -But here I am havering, and the tilted cart with my father and me in it -toiling on the mucky way through the Meams; and it has escaped couping -into the Earn at the ford, and it has landed us at the gate of home; and -in all that weary journey never a word, good or ill, from the man that -loved me and my mother before all else in a world he was well content -with. - -Mother was at the door; that daunted me. - -"Ye must be fair starving, Paul," quoth she softly with her hand on my -arm, and I daresay my face was blae with cold and chagrin. But my father -was not to let a disgrace well merited blow over just like that. - -"Here's our little Paul, Katrine," said he, and me towering a head or -two above the pair of them and a black down already on my face. "Here's -our little Paul. I hope you have not put by his bibs and daidlies, for -the wee man's not able to sup the good things of this life clean yet." - -And that was the last word of reproof I heard for my folly from my -father Quentin Greig. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -MISS FORTUNE'S TRYST BY WATER OF EARN, AND HOW I MARRED THE SAME -UNWITTINGLY - -For the most part of a year I toiled and moiled like any crofter's son -on my father's poor estate, and dreary was the weird I had to dree, for -my being there at all was an advertisement to the countryside of what a -fool was young Paul Greig. "The Spoiled Horn" was what they called me in -the neighbourhood (I learned it in the taunt of a drunken packman), for -I had failed at being the spoon I was once designed for, and there was -not a ne'er-do-weel peasant nor a bankrupt portioner came craving some -benefit to my father's door but made up for his deference to the laird -by his free manner with the laird's son. The extra tenderness of my -mother (if that were possible) only served to swell my rebel heart, for -I knew she was but seeking to put me in a better conceit of myself, and -I found a place whereof I had before been fond exceedingly assume a new -complexion. The rain seemed to fall constantly that year, and the earth -in spring was sodden and sour. Hazel Den House appeared sunk in the -rotten leafage of the winter long after the lambs came home and the -snipe went drumming on the marsh, and the rookery in the holm plantation -was busy with scolding parents tutoring their young. A solemn house at -its best--it is so yet, sometimes I think, when my wife is on a jaunt -at her sister's and Walter's bairns are bedded--it was solemn beyond all -description that spring, and little the better for the coming of summer -weather. For then the trees about it, that gave it over long billows of -untimbered countryside an aspect of dark importance, by the same token -robbed it (as I thought then) of its few amenities. How it got the name -of Hazel Den I cannot tell, for autumn never browned a nut there. It was -wych elm and ash that screened Hazel Den House; the elms monstrous and -grotesque with knotty growths: when they were in their full leaf behind -the house they hid the valley of the Clyde and the Highland hills, that -at bleaker seasons gave us a sense of companionship with the wide world -beyond our infield of stunted crops. The ash towered to the number of -two score and three towards the south, shutting us off from the view -there, and working muckle harm to our kitchen-garden. Many a time my -father was for cutting them down, but mother forbade it, though her -syboes suffered from the shade and her roses grew leggy and unblooming. -"That," said she, "is the want of constant love: flowers are like -bairns; ye must be aye thinking of them kindly to make them thrive." And -indeed there might be something in the notion, for her apple-ringie -and Dutch Admiral, jonquils, gillyflowers, and peony-roses throve -marvellously, better then they did anywhere in the shire of Renfrew -while she lived and tended them and have never been quite the same since -she died, even with a paid gardener to look after them. - -A winter loud with storm, a spring with rain-rot in the fallen leaf, a -summer whose foliage but made our home more solitary than ever, a short -autumn of stifling heats--that was the year the Spoiled Horn tasted the -bitterness of life, the bitterness that comes from the want of an -aim (that is better than the best inheritance in kind) and from a -consciousness that the world mistrusts your ability. And to cap all, -there was no word about my returning to the prelections of Professor -Reid, for a reason which I could only guess at then, but learned later -was simply the want of money. - -My father comported himself to me as if I were doomed to fall into a -decline, as we say, demanding my avoidance of night airs, preaching the -Horatian virtues of a calm life in the fields, checking with a reddened -face and a half-frightened accent every turn of the conversation that -gave any alluring colour to travel or adventure. Notably he was dumb, -and so was my mother, upon the history of his family. He had had four -brothers: three of them I knew were dead and their tombs not in Mearns -kirkyard; one of them, Andrew, the youngest, still lived: I feared it -might be in a bedlam, by the avoidance they made of all reference to -him. I was fated, then, for Bedlam or a galloping consumption--so I -apprehended dolefully from the mystery of my folk; and the notion sent -me often rambling solitary over the autumn moors, cultivating a not -unpleasing melancholy and often stringing stanzas of a solemn complexion -that I cannot recall nowadays but with a laugh at my folly. - -A favourite walk of mine in these moods was along the Water of Earn, -where the river chattered and sang over rocks and shallows or plunged -thundering in its linn as it did ere I was born and shall do when I and -my story are forgotten. A pleasant place, and yet I nearly always had it -to myself alone. - -I should have had it always to myself but for one person--Isobel Fortune -from the Kirkillstane. She seemed as little pleased to meet me there -as I was to meet her, though we had been brought up in the same school -together; and when I would come suddenly round a bend of the road and -she appeared a hundred yards off, I noticed that she half stopped and -seemed, as it were, to swither whether she should not turn and avoid me. -It would not have surprised me had she done so, for, to tell the truth, -I was no very cheery object to contemplate upon a pleasant highway, with -the bawbee frown of a poetic gloom upon my countenance and the most curt -of salutations as I passed. What she did there all her lone so often -mildly puzzled me, till I concluded she was on a tryst with some young -gentleman of the neighbourhood; but as I never saw sign of him, I did -not think myself so much the marplot as to feel bound to take another -road for my rambling. I was all the surer 'twas a lover she was out to -meet, because she reddened guiltily each time that we encountered (a -fine and sudden charm to a countenance very striking and beautiful, as I -could not but observe even then when weightier affairs engaged me); but -it seemed I was all in error, for long after she maintained she was, -like myself, indulging a sentimental humour that she found go very well -in tune with the noise of Earn Water. - -As it was her habit to be busily reading when we thus met, I had little -doubt as to the ownership of a book that one afternoon I found on -the road not long after passing her. It was--of all things in the -world!--Hervey's "Meditations." - -"It's an odd graveyard taste for a lass of that stamp," thought I, -hastening back after her to restore the book, and when I came up to her -she was--not red this time, but wan to the very lips, and otherwise in -such confusion that she seemed to tremble upon her legs, "I think this -is yours, Isobel," says I: we were too well acquaint from childhood for -any address more formal. - -"Oh, thank you, Paul," said she hastily. "How stupid of me to lose it!" -She took it from me; her eye fell (for the first time, I felt sure) upon -the title of the volume, and she bit her lip in a vexation. I was all -the more convinced that her book was but a blind in her rambles, and -that there was a lover somewhere; and I think I must have relaxed my -silly black frown a little, and my proud melancholy permitted a faint -smile of amusement. The flag came to her face then. - -"Thank you," said she very dryly, and she left me in the middle of the -road, like a stirk. If it had been no more than that, I should have -thought it a girl's tantrum; but the wonder was to come, for before -I had taken three steps on my resumed way I heard her run after me. I -stopped, and she stopped, and the notion struck me like a rhyme of song -that there was something inexpressibly pleasant in her panting breath -and her heaving bosom, where a pebble brooch of shining red gleamed like -an eye between her breasts. - -"I'm not going to tell you a lie about it, Master Paul," she said, -almost like to cry; "I let the book fall on purpose." - -"Oh, I could have guessed as much as that, Isobel," said I, wondering -who in all the world the fellow was. Her sun-bonnet had fallen from her -head in her running, and hung at her back on its pink ribbons, and a -curl or two of her hair played truant upon her cheek and temple. It -seemed to me the young gentleman she was willing to let a book drop for -as a signal of her whereabouts was lucky enough. - -"Oh! you could have guessed!" she repeated, with a tone in which were -dumbfounderment and annoyance; "then I might have saved myself the -trouble." And off she went again, leaving me more the stirk than ever -and greatly struck at her remorse of conscience over a little sophistry -very pardonable in a lass caught gallivanting. When she was gone and her -frock was fluttering pink at the turn of the road, I was seized for the -first time with a notion that a girl like that some way set off, as we -say, or suited with, a fine landscape. - -Not five minutes later I met young David Borland of the Driepps, and -there--I told myself--the lover was revealed! He let on he was taking -a short cut for Polnoon, so I said neither buff nor sty as to Mistress -Isobel. - -The cool superiority of the gentleman, who had, to tell the truth, as -little in his head as I had in the heel of my shoe, somewhat galled me, -for it cried "Spoiled Horn!" as loud as if the taunt were bawled, so my -talk with him was short. There was but one topic in it to interest me. - -"Has the man with the scarred brow come yet?" he asked curiously. - -I did not understand. - -"Then he's not your length yet," said he, with the manifest gratification -of one who has the hanselling of great news. "Oh! I came on him this -morning outside a tavern in the Gorbals, bargaining loudly about a -saddle horse for Hazel Den. I'll warrant Hazel Den will get a start when -it sees him." - -I did not care to show young Borland much curiosity in his story, and so -it was just in the few words he gave it to me that I brought it home to -our supper-table. - -My father and mother looked at each other as if I had told them a -tragedy. The supper ended abruptly. The evening worship passed unusually -fast, my father reading the Book as one in a dream, and we went to our -beds nigh an hour before the customary time. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -OF THE COMING OF UNCLE ANDREW WITH A SCARRED FOREHEAD AND A BRASS-BOUND -CHEST, AND HOW I TOOK AN INFECTION - -It was a night--as often happens in the uplands of our shire in autumn -weather--of vast and brooding darkness: the world seemed to swound in -a breathless oven, and I had scarcely come to my chamber when thunder -broke wild upon the world and torrential rain began to fall. I did not -go to bed, but sat with my candle extinguished and watched the lightning -show the landscape as if it had been flooded by the gleam of moon and -star. - -Between the roar of the thunder and the blatter of the rain there were -intervals of an astounding stillness of an ominous suspense, and it -seemed oddly to me, as I sat in my room, that more than I was awake in -Hazel Den House. I felt sure my father and mother sat in their -room, still clad and whispering; it was but the illusion of a -moment--something felt by the instinct and not by reason--and then a -louder, nearer peal of thunder dispelled the notion, and I made to go to -bed. - -I stopped like one shot, with my waistcoat half undone. - -There was a sound of a horse's hoofs coming up the loan, with the beat -of them in mire sounding soft enough to make me shiver at the notion of -the rider's discomfort in that appalling night, and every now and then -the metal click of shoes, showing the animal over-reached himself in the -trot. - -The rider drew up at the front; a flash of the lightning and the wildest -thunder-peal of the night seemed to meet among our outhouses, and when -the roll of the thunder ceased I heard a violent rapping at the outer -door. - -The servants would be long ere they let this late visitor out of the -storm, I fancied, and I hurried down; but my father was there in the -hall before me, all dressed, as my curious intuition had informed me, -and his face strange and inscrutable in the light of a shaded candle. -He was making to open the door. My appearance seemed to startle him. He -paused, dubious and a trifle confused. - -"I thought you had been in bed long ago," said he, "and--" - -His sentence was not finished, for the horseman broke in upon it with a -masterful rataplan upon the oak, seemingly with a whip-head or a pistol -butt, and a cry, new to my ear and uncanny, rose through the beating -rain. - -With a sigh the most distressing I can mind of, my father seemed to -reconcile himself to some fate he would have warded off if he could. He -unbolted and threw back the door. - -Our visitor threw himself in upon us as if we held the keys of -paradise--a man like a rake for lankiness, as was manifest even through -the dripping wrap-rascal that he wore; bearded cheek and chin in a -fashion that must seem fiendish in our shaven country; with a wild and -angry eye, the Greig mole black on his temple, and an old scar livid -across his sunburned brow. He threw a three-cocked hat upon the floor -with a gesture of indolent possession. - -"Well, I'm damned!" cried he, "but this is a black welcome to one's -poor brother Andy," and scarcely looked upon my father standing with -the shaded candle in the wind. "What's to drink? Drink, do you hear that -Quentin? Drink--drink--d-r-i-n-k. A long strong drink too, and that's -telling you, and none of the whey that I'm hearing's running through -the Greigs now, that once was a reputable family of three bottles and a -rummer to top all." - -"Whist, whist, man!" pleaded father tremulously, all the man out of him -as he stood before this drunken apparition. - -"Whist I quo' he. Well stap me! do you no' ken the lean pup of the -litter?" hiccoughed our visitor, with a sort of sneer that made the -blood run to my head, and for the first time I felt the great, the -splendid joy of a good cause to fight for. - -"You're Andrew," said my father simply, putting his hand upon the man's -coat sleeve in a sympathy for his drenchen clothes. - -That kindly hand was jerked off rudely, an act as insolent as if he had -smitten his host upon the mouth: my heart leaped, and my fingers went at -his throat. I could have spread him out against the wall, though I knew -him now my uncle; I could have given him the rogue's quittance with a -black face and a protruding tongue. The candle fell from my father's -hand; the glass shade shattered; the hall of Hazel Den House was plunged -in darkness, and the rain drave in through the open door upon us three -struggling. - -"Let him go, Paul," whispered my father, who I knew was in terror of -frightening his wife, and he wrestled mightily with an arm of each of -us. - -Yet I could not let my uncle go, for with the other arm he held a knife, -and he would perhaps have died for it had not another light come on the -stair and my mother's voice risen in a pitiful cry. - -We fell asunder on a common impulse, and the drunken wanderer was the -first to speak. - -"Katrine," said he; "it's always the old tale with Andy, you see; -they must be misunderstanding me," and he bowed with a surprising -gentlemanliness that could have made me almost think him not the man -who had fouled our house with oaths and drawn a knife upon us in the -darkness. The blade of the same, by a trick of legerdemain, had gone up -the sleeve of his dripping coat. He seemed all at once sobered. He took -my good mother by the hand as she stood trembling and never to know -clearly upon what elements of murder she had come. - -"It is you, Andrew," said she, bravely smiling. "What a night to come -home in after twenty years! I'm wae to see you in such a plight. And -your horse?" said she again, lifting her candle and peering into the -darkness of the night. "I must cry up Sandy to stable your horse." - -I'll give my uncle the credit of a confusion at his own forgetfulness. - -"Good Lord! Katrine," said he, "if I did not clean forget the brute, a -fiddle-faced, spavined, spatter-dasher of a Gorbals mare, no' worth her -corn; but there's my bit kistie on her hump." - -The servant was round soon at the stabling of the mare, and my mother -was brewing something of what the gentleman had had too much already, -though she could not guess that; and out of the dripping night he -dragged in none of a rider's customary holsters but a little brass-bound -chest. - -"Yon night I set out for my fortune, Quentin," said he, "I did not think -I would come back with it a bulk so small as this; did you? It was the -sight of the quiet house and the thought of all it contained that made -me act like an idiot as I came in. Still, we must just take the world as -we get it, Quentin; and I knew I was sure of a warm welcome in the old -house, from one side of it if not from the other, for the sake of lang -syne. And this is your son, is it?" he went on, looking at my six feet -of indignation not yet dead "Split me if there's whey in that piece! You -near jammed my hawze that time! Your Uncle Andrew's hawze, boy. Are you -not ashamed of yourself?" - -"Not a bit," said I between my teeth; "I leave that to you." - -He smiled till his teeth shone white in his black beard, and "Lord!" -cried he, "I'm that glad I came. It was but the toss of a bawbee, when I -came to Leith last week, whether I should have a try at the old doocot, -or up Blue Peter again and off to the Indies. I hate ceiled rooms--they -mind me of the tomb; I'm out of practice at sitting doing nothing in -a parlour and saying grace before meat, and--I give you warning, -Quentin--I'll be damned if I drink milk for supper. It was the notion -of milk for supper and all that means that kept me from calling on -Katrine--and you--any sooner. But I'm glad I came to meet a lad of -spirit like young Andy here." - -"Not Andy," said my father. "Paul is his name." - -My uncle laughed. - -"That was ill done of you, Quentin," said he; "I think it was as little -as Katrine and you could do to have kept up the family name. I suppose -you reckoned to change the family fate when you made him Paul. H'm! You -must have forgotten that Paul the Apostle wandered most, and many ways -fared worst of all the rest. I haven't forgotten my Bible, you see, -Quentin." - -We were now in the parlour room; a servant lass was puffing up a -new-lighted fire; my uncle, with his head in the shade, had his -greatcoat off, and stood revealed in shabby garments that had once been -most genteel; and his brass-bound fortune, that he seemed averse from -parting with a moment, was at his feet. Getting no answer to what he had -said of the disciples, he looked from one to the other of us and laughed -slyly. - -"Take off your boots, Andy," said my father. - -"And where have you been since--since--the Plantations?" - -"Stow that, Quentin!" cried my uncle, with an oath and his eye on me. -"What Plantations are you blethering about? And where have I been? Ask -me rather where have I not been. It makes me dizzy even to think of it: -with rotten Jesuits and Pagan gentlemen; with France and Spain, and -with filthy Lascars, lying Greeks, Eboe slaves, stinking niggers, and -slit-eyed Chinese! Oh! I tell you I've seen things in twenty years. And -places, too: this Scotland, with its infernal rain and its grey fields -and its rags, looks like a nightmare to me yet. You may be sure I'll be -out of it pretty fast again." - -"Poor Scotland!" said father ambiguously. - -There must be people in the world who are oddly affected by the names -of places, peoples, things that have never come within their own -experience. Till this day the name of Barbadoes influences me like a -story of adventure; and when my Uncle Andrew--lank, bearded, drenched -with storm, stood in our parlour glibly hinting at illimitable travel, -I lost my anger with the tipsy wretch and felt a curious glow go through -my being. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -I COME UPON THE RED SHOES - -Uncle Andrew settled for the remainder of his time into our domestic -world at Hazel Den as if his place had been kept warm for him since ever -he went away. For the remainder of his time, I say, because he was to be -in the clods of Mearns kirkyard before the hips and haws were off the -hedges; and I think I someway saw his doom in his ghastly countenance -the first morning he sat at our breakfast table, contrite over his folly -of the night before, as you could see, but carrying off the situation -with worldly _sang froid_, and even showing signs of some affection for -my father. - -His character may be put in two words--he was a lovable rogue; his -tipsy bitterness to the goodman his brother may be explained almost -as briefly: he had had a notion of Katrine Oliver, and had courted her -before ever she met my father, and he had lost her affection through -his own folly. Judging from what I would have felt myself in the like -circumstances, his bitterest punishment for a life ill spent must have -been to see Katrine Oliver's pitying kindness to him now, and the sight -of that douce and loving couple finding their happiness in each other -must have been a constant sermon to him upon repentance. - -Yet, to tell the truth, I fear my Uncle Andrew was not constituted -for repentance or remorse. He had slain a man honestly once, and had -suffered the Plantations, but beyond that (and even that included, as -he must ever insist) he had been guilty of no mean act in all his roving -career. Follies--vices--extremes--ay, a thousand of them; but for most -his conscience never pricked him. On the contrary, he would narrate with -gusto the manifold jeopardies his own follies brought him into; his -wan face, nigh the colour of a shroud, would flush, and his eyes dance -humorously as he shocked the table when we sat at meals, our spoons -suspended in the agitation created by his wonderful histories. - -Kept to a moderation with the bottle, and with the constant influence of -my mother, who used to feed the rogue on vegetables and, unknown to him, -load his broth with simples as a cure for his craving, Uncle Andrew was, -all things considered, an acquisition to Hazel Den House. Speaking for -myself, he brought the element of the unusual and the unexpected to a -place where routine had made me sick of my own society; and though -the man in his sober senses knew he was dying on his feet, he was the -cheeriest person of our company sequestered so remote in the moors. It -was a lesson in resignation to see yon merry eyes loweing like lamps -over his tombstone cheeks, and hear him crack a joke in the flushed and -heaving interludes of his cough. - -It was to me he ever directed the most sensational of his extraordinary -memorials. My father did not like it; I saw it in his eye. It was -apparent to me that a remonstrance often hung on the tip of his tongue. -He would invent ridiculous and unnecessary tasks to keep me out of -reach of that alluring _raconteur_, and nobody saw it plainer than Uncle -Andrew, who but laughed with the mischievousness of a boy. - -Well, the long and short of it was just what Quentin Greig feared--the -Spoiled Horn finally smit with a hunger for the road of the Greigs. -For three hundred years--we could go no further back, because of a bend -sinister--nine out of ten of that family had travelled that road, that -leads so often to a kistful of sailor's shells and a death with boots -on. It was a fate in the blood, like the black hair of us, the mole on -the temple, and the trick of irony. It was that ailment my father -had feared for me; it was that kept the household silent upon missing -brothers (they were dead, my uncle told me, in Trincomalee, and in -Jamaica, and a yard in the Borough of London); it was that inspired the -notion of a lawyer's life for Paul Greig. - -Just when I was in the deepmost confidence of Uncle Andrew, who was by -then confined to his bed and suffering the treatment of Doctor Clews, -his stories stopped abruptly and he began to lament the wastry of his -life. If the thing had been better acted I might have been impressed, -for our follies never look just like what they are till we are finally -on the broad of our backs and the Fell Sergeant's step is at the door. -But it was not well acted; and when the wicked Uncle Andrew groaned over -the very ploys he had a week ago exulted in, I recognised some of my -mother's commonest sentiments in his sideways sermon. She had got her -quondam Andy, for lang syne's sake, to help her keep her son at home; -and he was doing his best, poor man, but a trifle late in the day. - -"Uncle Andrew," said I, never heeding his homily, "tell me what came of -the pock-marked tobacco planter when you and the negro lay in the swamp -for him?" - -He groaned hopelessly. - -"A rotten tale, Paul, my lad," said he, never looking me in the face; "I -rue the day I was mixed up in that affair." - -"But it was a good story so far as it went, no further gone than -Wednesday last," I protested. - -He laughed at that, and for half an hour he put off the new man of -my mother's bidding, and we were on the old naughty footing again. He -concluded by bequeathing to me for the twentieth time the brass-bound -chest, and its contents that we had never seen nor could guess the -nature of. But now for the first time he let me know what I might expect -there. - -"It's not what Quentin might consider much," said he, "for there's not a -guelder of money in it, no, nor so little as a groat, for as the world's -divided ye can't have both the money and the dance, and I was aye the -fellow for the dance. There's scarcely anything in it, Paul, but the -trash--ahem!--that is the very fitting reward of a life like mine." - -"And still and on, uncle," said I, "it is a very good tale about the -pock-marked man." - -"Ah! You're there, Greig!" cried the rogue, laughing till his hoast came -to nigh choke him. "Well, the kist's yours, anyway, such as it is; and -there's but one thing in it--to be strict, a pair--that I set any store -by as worth leaving to my nephew." - -"It ought to be spurs," said I, "to drive me out of this lamentable -countryside and to where a fellow might be doing something worth while." - -"Eh!" he cried, "you're no' so far off it, for it's a pair of shoes." - -"A pair of shoes!" I repeated, half inclined to think that Uncle Andrew -was doited at last. - -"A pair of shoes, and perhaps in some need of the cobbler, for I have -worn them a good deal since I got them in Madras. They were not new when -I got them, but by the look of them they're not a day older now. They -have got me out of some unco' plights in different parts of the world, -for all that the man who sold them to me at a bonny penny called them -the Shoes of Sorrow; and so far as I ken, the virtue's in them yet." - -"A doomed man's whim," thought I, and professed myself vastly gratified -by his gift. - -He died next morning. It was Candlemas Day. He went out at last like a -crusie wanting oil. In the morning he had sat up in bed to sup -porridge that, following a practice I had made before his reminiscences -concluded, I had taken in to him myself. Tremendous long and lean the -upper part of him looked, and the cicatrice upon his brow made his -ghastliness the more appalling. When he sat against the bolsters he -could see through the window into the holm field, and, as it happened, -what was there but a wild young roe-deer driven down from some higher -part of the country by stress of winter weather, and a couple of mongrel -dogs keeping him at bay in an angle of the fail dyke. - -I have seldom seen a man more vastly moved than Uncle Andrew looking -upon this tragedy of the wilds. He gasped as though his chest would -crack, a sweat burst on his face. - -"That's--that's the end o't, Paul, my lad!" said he. "Yonder's your -roving uncle, and the tykes have got him cornered at last. No more the -heather and the brae; no more--no more--no more--" - -Such a change came on him that I ran and cried my mother ben, and she -and father were soon at his bedside. - -It was to her he turned his eyes, that had seen so much of the spacious -world of men and women and all their multifarious interests, great and -little. They shone with a light of memory and affection, so that I got -there and then a glimpse of the Uncle Andrew of innocence and the Uncle -Andrew who might have been if fate had had it otherwise. - -He put out his hand and took hers, and said goodbye. - -"The hounds have me, Katrine," said he. "I'm at the fail dyke corner." - -"I'll go out and whistle them off, uncle," said I, fancying it all a -doited man's illusion, though the look of death was on him; but I stood -rebuked in the frank gaze he gave me of a fuller comprehension than -mine, though he answered me not. - -And then he took my father's hand in his other, and to him too he said -farewell. - -"You're there, Quentin!" said he; "and Katrine--Katrine--Katrine chose -by far the better man. God be merciful to poor Andy Greig, a sinner." -And these were his last words. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -A SPOILED TRYST, AND OTHER THINGS THAT FOLLOWED ON THE OPENING OF THE -CHEST - -The funeral was over before I cared to examine my bequest, and then I -went to it with some reluctance, for if a pair of shoes was the chief -contents of the brass-bound chest, there was like to be little else -except the melancholy relics of a botched life. It lay where he left it -on the night he came--under the foot of his bed--and when I lifted the -lid I felt as if I was spying upon a man through a keyhole. Yet, when I -came more minutely to examine the contents, I was disappointed that at -the first reflection nothing was there half so pregnant as his own most -casual tale to rouse in me the pleasant excitation of romance. - -A bairn's caul--that sailor's trophy that has kept many a mariner -from drowning only that he might die a less pleasant death; a broken -handcuff, whose meaning I cared not to guess at; a pop or pistol; a -chap-book of country ballads, that possibly solaced his exile from -the land they were mostly written about; the batters of a Bible, with -nothing between them but his name in his mother's hand on the inside of -the board; a traveller's log or itinerary, covering a period of fifteen -years, extremely minute in its detail and well written; a broken -sixpence and the pair of shoes. - -The broken sixpence moved my mother to tears, for she had had the other -half twenty years ago, before Andrew Greig grew ne'er-do-weel; the shoes -failed to rouse in her or in my father any interest whatever. If they -could have guessed it, they would have taken them there and then and -sunk them in the deepest linn of Earn. - -There was little kenspeckle about them saving their colour, which was -a dull dark red. They were of the most excellent material, with a great -deal of fine sewing thrown away upon them in parts where it seems to -me their endurance was in no wise benefited, and an odd pair of silver -buckles gave at your second glance a foreign look to them. - -I put them on at the first opportunity: they fitted me as if my feet had -been moulded to them, and I sat down to the study of the log-book. The -afternoon passed, the dusk came. I lit a candle, and at midnight, when I -reached the year of my uncle's escape from the Jesuits of Spain, I came -to myself gasping, to find the house in an alarm, and that lanthorns -were out about Earn Water looking for me, while all the time I was -_perdu_ in the dead uncle's chamber in the baron's wing, as we called -it, of Hazel Den House. I pretended I had fallen asleep; it was the -first and the last time I lied to my mother, and something told me she -knew I was deceiving her. She looked at the red shoes on my feet. - -"Ugly brogues!" said she; "it's a wonder to me you would put them on -your feet. You don't know who has worn them." - -"They were Uncle Andy's," said I, complacently looking at them, for they -fitted like a glove; the colour was hardly noticeable in the evening, -and the buckles were most becoming. - -"Ay! and many a one before him, I'm sure," said she, with distaste in -her tone, "I don't think them nice at all, Paul," and she shuddered a -little. - -"That's but a freit," said I; "but it's not likely I'll wear much of -such a legacy." I went up and left them in the chest, and took the diary -into my own room and read Uncle Andrew's marvellous adventures in the -trade of rover till it was broad daylight. - -When I had come to the conclusion it seemed as if I had been in the -delirium of a fever, so tempestuous and unreal was that memoir of a wild -loose life. The sea was there, buffeting among the pages in rollers and -breakers; there were the chronicles of a hundred ports, with boozing -kens and raving lazarettos in them; far out isles and cays in nameless -oceans, and dozing lagoons below tropic skies; a great clash of weapons -and a bewildering deal of political intrigue in every part of the -Continent from Calais to Constantinople. My uncle's narrative in life -had not hinted at one half the marvel of his career, and I read his -pages with a rapture, as one hears a noble piece of music, fascinated to -the uttermost, and finding no moral at the end beyond that the world -we most of us live in with innocence and ignorance is a crust over -tremendous depths. And then I burned the book. It went up in a grey -smoke on the top of the fire that I had kept going all night for its -perusal; and the thing was no sooner done than I regretted it, though -the act was dictated by the seemly enough idea that its contents would -only distress my parents if they came to their knowledge. - -For days--for weeks--for a season--I went about, my head humming with -Uncle Andy's voice recounting the most stirring of his adventures as -narrated in the log-book. I had been infected by almost his first words -the night he came to Hazel Den House, and made a magic chant of the mere -names of foreign peoples; now I was fevered indeed; and when I put on -the red shoes (as I did of an evening, impelled by some dandyism foreign -to my nature hitherto), they were like the seven-league boots for magic, -as they set my imagination into every harbour Uncle Andy had frequented -and made me a guest at every inn where he had met his boon companions. - -I was wearing them the next time I went on my excursion to Earn side and -there met Isobel Fortune, who had kept away from the place since I had -smiled at my discovery of her tryst with Hervey's "Meditations." She -came upon me unexpectedly, when the gentility of my shoes and the -recollection of all that they had borne of manliness was making me walk -along the road with a very high head and an unusually jaunty step. - -She seemed struck as she came near, with her face displaying her -confusion, and it seemed to me she was a new woman altogether--at least, -not the Isobel I had been at school with and seen with an indifferent -eye grow up like myself from pinafores. It seemed suddenly scandalous -that the like of her should have any correspondence with so ill-suited a -lover as David Borland of the Dreipps. - -For the first time (except for the unhappy introduction of Hervey's -"Meditations") we stopped to speak to each other. She was the most -bewitching mixture of smiles and blushes, and stammering now and then, -and vastly eager to be pleasant to me, and thinks I, "My lass, you're -keen on trysting when it's with Borland." - -The very thought of the fellow in that connection made me angry in her -interest; and with a mischievous intention of spoiling his sport if he -hovered, as I fancied, in the neighbourhood, or at least of delaying his -happiness as long as I could, I kept the conversation going very blithe -indeed. - -She had a laugh, low and brief, and above all sincere, which is the -great thing in laughter, that was more pleasant to hear than the sound -of Earn in its tinkling hollow among the ferns: it surprised me that she -should favour my studied and stupid jocosities with it so frequently. -Here was appreciation! I took, in twenty minutes, a better conceit of -myself, than the folks at home could have given me in the twelve -months since I left the college, and I'll swear to this date 'twas the -consciousness of my fancy shoes that put me in such good key. - -She saw my glance to them at last complacently, and pretended herself to -notice them for the first time. - -She smiled--little hollows came near the corners of her lips; of -a sudden I minded having once kissed Mistress Grant's niece in a -stair-head frolic in Glasgow High Street, and the experience had been -pleasant enough. - -"They're very nice," said Isobel. - -"They're all that," said I, gazing boldly at her dimples. She flushed -and drew in her lips. - -"No, no!" I cried,"'twas not them I was thinking of; but their -neighbours. I never saw you had dimples before." - -At that she was redder than ever. - -"I could not help that, Paul," said she; "they have been always there, -and you are getting very audacious. I was thinking of your new shoes." - -"How do you know they're new?" - -"I could tell," said she, "by the sound of your footstep before you came -in sight." - -"It might not have been my footstep," said I, and at that she was taken -back. - -"That is true," said she, hasty to correct herself. "I only thought it -might be your footstep, as you are often this way." - -"It might as readily have been David Borland's. I have seen him about -here." I watched her as closely as I dared: had her face changed, I -would have felt it like a blow. - -"Anyway, they're very nice, your new shoes," said she, with a marvellous -composure that betrayed nothing. - -"They were uncle's legacy," I explained, "and had travelled far in many -ways about the world; far--and fast." - -"And still they don't seem to be in such a hurry as your old ones," said -she, with a mischievous air. Then she hastened to cover what might seem -a rudeness. "Indeed, they're very handsome, Paul, and become you very -much, and--and--and--" - -"They're called the Shoes of Sorrow; that's the name my uncle had for -them," said I, to help her to her own relief. - -"Indeed, and I hope it may be no more than a by-name," she said gravely. - -The day had the first rumour of spring: green shoots thrust among the -bare bushes on the river side, and the smell of new turned soil came -from a field where a plough had been feiring; above us the sky was blue, -in the north the land was pleasantly curved against silver clouds. - -And one small bird began to pipe in a clump of willows, that showered a -dust of gold upon us when the little breeze came among the branches. I -looked at all and I looked at Isobel Fortune, so trim and bonny, and it -seemed there and then good to be a man and my fortunes all to try. - -"Sorrow here or sorrow there, Isobel," I said, "they are the shoes to -take me away sooner or later from Hazel Den." - -She caught my meaning with astounding quickness. - -"Are you in earnest?" she asked soberly, and I thought she could not -have been more vexed had it been David Borland. - -"Another year of this." said I, looking at the vacant land, "would break -my heart." - -"Indeed, Paul, and I thought Earn-side was never so sweet as now," said -she, vexed like, as if she was defending a companion. - -"That is true, too," said I, smiling into the very depths of her large -dark eyes, where I saw a pair of Spoiled Horns as plainly as if I looked -in sunny weather into Linn of Earn. "That is true, too. I have never -been better pleased with it than to-day. But what in the world's to -keep me? It's all bye with the college--at which I'm but middling well -pleased; it's all bye with the law--for which thanks to Heaven! and, -though they seem to think otherwise at Hazel Den House, I don't believe -I've the cut of a man to spend his life among rowting cattle and dour -clay land." - -"I daresay not; it's true," said she stammeringly, with one fast glance -that saw me from the buckles of my red shoes to the underlids of my -eyes. For some reason or other she refused to look higher, and the -distant landscape seemed to have charmed her after that. She drummed -with a toe upon the path; she bit her nether lip; upon my word, the lass -had tears at her eyes! I had, plainly, kept her long enough from her -lover. "Well, it's a fine evening; I must be going," said I stupidly, -making a show at parting, and an ugly sense of annoyance with David -Borland stirring in my heart. "But it will rain before morning," said -she, making to go too, but always looking to the hump of Dungoyne that -bars the way to the Hielands. "I think, after all, Master Paul, I liked -the old shoon better than the new ones." - -"Do you say so?" I asked, astonished at the irrelevance that came -rapidly from her lips, as if she must cry it out or choke. "And how -comes that?" - -"Just because--" said she, and never a word more, like a woman, nor fair -good-e'en nor fair good-day to ye, but off she went, and I was the stirk -again. - -I looked after her till she went out of sight, wondering what had been -the cause of her tirravee. She fair ran at the last, as if eager to get -out of my sight; and when she disappeared over the brae that rose from -the river-side there was a sense of deprivation within me. I was clean -gone in love and over the lugs in it with Isobel Fortune. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -MY DEED ON THE MOOR OF MEARNS - - -Next day I shot David Borland of the Driepps. - -It was the seventh of March, the first day I heard the laverock that -season, and it sang like to burst its heart above the spot where the -lad fell with a cry among the rushes. It rose from somewhere in our -neighbourhood, aspiring to the heavens, but chained to earth by its -own song; and even yet I can recall the eerie influence of that strange -conjunction of sin and song as I stood knee-deep in the tangle of the -moor with the pistol smoking in my hand. - -To go up to the victim of my jealousy as he lay ungainly on the ground, -his writhing over, was an ordeal I could not face. - -"Davie, Davie!" I cried to him over the thirty paces; but I got no reply -from yon among the rushes. I tried to wet my cracking lips with a tongue -like a cork, and "Davie, oh, Davie, are ye badly hurt?" I cried, in a -voice I must have borrowed from ancient time when my forefathers fought -with the forest terrors. - -I listened and I better listened, but Borland still lay there at last, a -thing insensate like a gangrel's pack, and in all the dreary land there -was nothing living but the laverock and me. - -The bird was high--a spot upon the blue; his song, I am sure, was the -song of his kind, that has charmed lovers in summer fields from old -time--a melody rapturous, a message like the message of the evening -star that God no more fondly loves than that small warbler in desert -places--and yet there and then it deaved me like a cry from hell. No -heavenly message had the lark for me: he flew aloft there into the -invisible, to tell of this deed of mine among the rushes. Not God alone -would hear him tell his story: they might hear it, I knew, in shepherds' -cots; they might hear it in an old house bowered dark among trees; the -solitary witness of my crime might spread the hue and cry about the -shire; already the law might be on the road for young Paul Greig. - -I seemed to listen a thousand years to that telltale in the air; for a -thousand years I scanned the blue for him in vain, yet when I looked at -my pistol again the barrel was still warm. - -It was the first time I had handled such a weapon. - -A senseless tool it seemed, and yet the crooking of a finger made it -the confederate of hate; though it, with its duty done, relapsed into a -heedless silence, I, that owned it for my instrument, must be wailing in -my breast, torn head to foot with thunders of remorse. - -I raised the hammer, ran a thumb along the flint, seeing something -fiendish in the jaws that held it; I lifted up the prime-cap, and it -seemed some miracle of Satan that the dust I had put there in the peace -of my room that morning in Hazel Den should have disappeared. "Truefitt" -on the lock; a silver shield and an initial graven on it; a butt with a -dragon's grin that had seemed ridiculous before, and now seemed to cry -"Cain!" Lord! that an instrument like this in an unpractised hand should -cut off all young Borland's earthly task, end his toil with plough and -harrow, his laugh and story. - -I looked again at the shapeless thing at thirty paces. "It cannot be," -I told myself; and I cried again, in the Scots that must make him cease -his joke, "I ken ye're only lettin' on, Davie. Get up oot o' that and -we'll cry quits." - -But there was no movement; there was no sound; the tell-tale had the -heavens to himself. - -All the poltroon in me came a-top and dragged my better man round about, -let fall the pistol from my nerveless fingers and drove me away from -that place. It was not the gallows I thought of (though that too was -sometimes in my mind), but of the frightful responsibility I had made my -burden, to send a human man before his Maker without a preparation, and -my bullet hole upon his brow or breast, to tell for ever through the -roaring ring of all eternity that this was the work of Paul Greig. The -rushes of the moor hissed me as I ran blindly through them; the tufts of -heather over Whiggit Knowe caught at me to stop me; the laverock seemed -to follow overhead, a sergeant of provost determined on his victim. - -My feet took me, not home to the home that was mine no more, but to -Earn-side, where I felt the water crying in its linn would drown the -sound of the noisy laverock; and the familiar scene would blot for a -space the ugly sight from my eyes. I leant at the side to lave my brow, -and could scarce believe that this haggard countenance I saw look up at -me from the innocent waters was the Spoiled Horn who had been reflected -in Isobel's eyes. Over and over again I wet my lips and bathed my -temples; I washed my hands, and there was on the right forefinger a mark -I bear to this day where the trigger guard of the pistol in the moments -of my agony had cut me to the bone without my knowing it. - -When my face looked less like clay and my plans were clear, I rose and -went home. - -My father and mother were just sitting to supper, and I joined them. -They talked of a cousin to be married in Drymen at Michaelmas, of an -income in the leg of our mare, of Sabbath's sermon, of things that were -as far from me as I from heaven, and I heard them as one in a dream, -far-off. What I was hearing most of the time was the laverock setting -the hue and cry of Paul Greig's crime around the world and up to the -Throne itself, and what I was seeing was the vacant moor, now in the -dusk, and a lad's remains awaiting their discovery. The victuals choked -me as I pretended to eat; my father noticed nothing, my mother gave a -glance, and a fright was in her face. - -I went up to my room and searched a desk for some verses that had been -gathering there in my twelve months' degradation, and particularly for -one no more than a day old with Isobel Fortune for its theme. It was -all bye with that! I was bound to be glancing at some of the lines as -I furiously tore them up and threw them out of the window into the -bleaching-green; and oh! but the black sorrows and glooms that were -there recorded seemed a mockery in the light of this my terrible -experience. They went by the window, every scrap: then I felt cut off -from every innocent day of my youth, the past clean gone from me for -ever. - -The evening worship came. - -_"If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost ends of -the sea."_ - -My father, peering close at the Book through his spectacles, gave out -the words as if he stood upon a pulpit, deliberate--too deliberate for -Cain his son, that sat with his back to the window shading his face from -a mother's eyes. They were always on me, her eyes, throughout that last -service; they searched me like a torch in a pit, and wae, wae was her -face! - -When we came to pray and knelt upon the floor, I felt as through my shut -eyes that hers were on me even then, exceeding sad and troubled. They -followed me like that when I went up, as they were to think, to my bed, -and I was sitting at my window in the dark half an hour later when -she came up after me. She had never done the like before since I was a -child. - -"Are ye bedded, Paul?" she whispered in the dark. - -I could not answer her in words, but I stood to my feet and lit a -candle, and she saw that I was dressed. - -"What ails ye to-night?" she asked trembling. "I'm going away, mother," I -answered. "There's something wrong?" she queried in great distress. - -"There's all that!" I confessed. "It'll be time for you to ken about -that in the morning, but I must be off this night." - -"Oh, Paul, Paul!" she cried, "I did not like to see you going out in -these shoes this afternoon, and I ken't that something ailed ye." - -"The road to hell suits one shoe as well's another," said I bitterly; -"where the sorrow lies is that ye never saw me go out with a different -heart. Mother, mother, the worst ye can guess is no' so bad as the worst -ye've yet to hear of your son." - -I was in a storm of roaring emotions, yet her next words startled me. - -"It's Isobel Fortune of the Kirkillstane," she said, trying hard to -smile with a wan face in the candle light. - -"It _was_--poor dear! Am I not in torment when I think that she must -know it?" - -"I thought it was that that ailed ye, Paul," said she, as if she were -relieved. "Look; I got this a little ago on the bleaching-green--this -scrap of paper in your write and her name upon it. Maybe I should not -have read it." And she handed me part of that ardent ballad I had torn -less than an hour ago. - -I held it in the flame of her candle till it was gone, our hands all -trembling, and "That's the end appointed for Paul Greig," said I. - -"Oh, Paul, Paul, it cannot be so unco'!" she cried in terror, and -clutched me at the arm. - -"It is--it is the worst." - -"And yet--and yet--you're my son, Paul. Tell me." - -She looked so like a reed in the winter wind, so frail and little and -shivering in my room, that I dared not tell her there and then. I said -it was better that both father and she should hear my tale together, and -we went into the room where already he was bedded but not asleep. He sat -up staring at our entry, a night-cowl tassel dangling on his brow. - -"There's a man dead--" I began, when he checked me with a shout. - -"Stop, stop!" he cried, and put my mother in a chair. "I have heard the -tale before with my brother Andy, and the end was not for women's ears." - -"I must know, Quentin," said his wife, blanched to the lip but -determined, and then he put his arm about her waist. It seemed like a -second murder to wrench those tender hearts that loved me, but the thing -was bound to do. - -I poured out my tale at one breath and in one sentence, and when it -ended my mother was in her swound. - -"Oh, Paul!" cried the poor man, his face like a clout; "black was the -day she gave you birth!" - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -QUENTIN GREIG LOSES A SON, AND I SET OUT WITH A HORSE AS ALL MY FORTUNE - -He pushed me from the chamber as I had been a stranger intruding, and I -went to the trance door and looked out at the stretching moorlands lit -by an enormous moon that rose over Cathkin Braes, and an immensity of -stars. For the first time in all my life I realised the heedlessness of -nature in human affairs the most momentous. For the moon swung up serene -beyond expression; the stars winked merrily: a late bird glid among the -bushes and perched momentarily on a bough of ash to pipe briefly almost -with the passion of the spring. But not the heedlessness of nature -influenced me so much as the barren prospect of the world that the moon -and stars revealed. There was no one out there in those deep spaces of -darkness I could claim as friend or familiar. Where was I to go? What -was I to do? Only the beginnings of schemes came to me--schemes -of concealment and disguise, of surrender even--but the last to be -dismissed as soon as it occurred to me, for how could I leave this house -the bitter bequest of a memory of the gallows-tree? - -Only the beginnings, I say, for every scheme ran tilt against the -obvious truth that I was not only without affection or regard out there, -but without as much as a crown of money to purchase the semblance of -either. - -I could not have stood very long there when my father came out, his face -like clay, and aged miraculously, and beckoned me to the parlour. - -"Your mother--my wife," said he, "is very ill, and I am sending for the -doctor. The horse is yoking. There is another woman in Driepps who--God -help her!--will be no better this night, but I wish in truth her case -was ours, and that it was you who lay among the heather." - -He began pacing up and down the floor, his eyes bent, his hands -continually wringing, his heart bursting, as it were, with sighs and the -dry sobs of the utmost wretchedness. As for me, I must have been clean -gyte (as the saying goes), for my attention was mostly taken up with the -tassel of his nightcap that bobbed grotesquely on his brow. I had not -seen it since, as a child, I used to share his room. - -"What! what!" he cried at last piteously, "have ye never a word to say? -Are ye dumb?" He ran at me and caught me by the collar of the coat and -tried to shake me in an anger, but I felt it no more than I had been a -stone. - -"What did ye do it for? What in heaven's name did ye quarrel on?" - -"It was--it was about a girl," I said, reddening even at that momentous -hour to speak of such a thing to him. - -"A girl!" he repeated, tossing up his hands. "Keep us! Hoo lang are ye -oot o' daidlies? Well! well!" he went on, subduing himself and prepared -to listen. I wished the tassel had been any other colour than crimson, -and hung fairer on the middle of his forehead; it seemed to fascinate -me. And he, belike, forgot that I was there, for he thought, I knew, -continually of his wife, and he would stop his feverish pacing on the -floor, and hearken for a sound from the room where she was quartered -with the maid. I made no answer. - -"Well, well!" he cried again fiercely, turning upon me. "Out with it; -out with the whole hellish transaction, man!" - -And then I told him in detail what before my mother I had told in a -brief abstract. - -How that I had met young Borland coming down the breast of the brae at -Kirkillstane last night and-- - -"Last night!" he cried. "Are ye havering? I saw ye go to your bed at -ten, and your boots were in the kitchen." - -It was so, I confessed. I had gone to my room but not to bed, and had -slipped out by the window when the house was still, with Uncle Andrew's -shoes. - -"Oh, lad!" he cried, "it's Andy's shoes you stand in sure enough, for -I have seen him twenty years syne in the plight that you are in this -night. Merciful heaven! what dark blotch is in the history of this -family of ours that it must ever be embroiled in crimes of passion and -come continually to broken ends of fortune? I have lived stark honest -and humble, fearing the Lord; the covenants have I kept, and still and -on it seems I must beget a child of the Evil One!" - -And how, going out thus under cover of night, I had meant to indulge a -boyish fancy by seeing the light of Isobel Fortune's window. And how, -coming to the Kirkillstane, I met David Borland leaving the house, -whistling cheerfully. - -"Oh, Paul, Paul!" cried my father, "I mind of you an infant on her knees -that's ben there, and it might have been but yesterday your greeting in -the night wakened me to mourn and ponder on your fate." And how Borland, -divining my object there, and himself new out triumphant from that -cheerful house of many daughters, made his contempt for the Spoiled Horn -too apparent. - -"You walked to the trough-stane when you were a twelvemonth old," said -my father with the irrelevance of great grief, as if he recalled a dead -son's infancy. - -And how, maddened by some irony of mine, he had struck a blow upon -my chest, and so brought my challenge to something more serious and -gentlemanly than a squalid brawl with fists upon the highway. - -I stopped my story; it seemed useless to be telling it to one so much -preoccupied with the thought of the woman he loved. His lips were open, -his eyes were constant on the door. - -But "Well! Well!" he cried again eagerly, and I resumed. - -Of how I had come home, and crept into my guilty chamber and lay the -long night through, torn by grief and anger, jealousy and distress. And -how evading the others of the household as best I could that day, I -had in the afternoon at the hour appointed gone out with Uncle Andrew's -pistol. - -My father moaned--a waefu' sound! - -And found young Borland up on the moor before me with such another -weapon, his face red byordinary, his hands and voice trembling with -passion. - -"Poor lad, poor lad!" my father cried blurting the sentiment as he had -been a bairn. - -How we tossed a coin to decide which should be the first to fire, and -Borland had won the toss, and gone to the other end of our twenty paces -with vulgar menaces and "Spoiled Horn" the sweetest of his epithets. - -"Poor lad! he but tried to bluster down the inward voice that told him -the folly o't," said father. - -And how Borland had fired first. The air was damp. The sound was like a -slamming door. - -"The door of hope shut up for him, poor dear," cried father. - -And how he missed me in his trepidation that made his hand that held the -pistol so tremble that I saw the muzzle quiver even at twenty paces. - -"And then you shot him deliberately I M cried my father. - -"No, no," I cried at that, indignant. "I aimed without a glance along -the barrel: the flint flashed; the prime missed fire, and I was not -sorry, but Borland cried 'Spoiled Horn' braggingly, and I cocked again -as fast as I could, and blindly jerked the trigger. I never thought of -striking him. He fell with one loud cry among the rushes." - -"Murder, by God!" cried my father, and he relapsed into a chair, his -body all convulsed with horror. - -I had told him all this as if I had been in a delirium, or as if it were -a tale out of a book, and it was only when I saw him writhing in his -chair and the tassel shaking over his eyes, I minded that the murderer -was me. I made for the door; up rose my father quickly and asked me what -I meant to do. - -I confessed I neither knew nor cared. - -"You must thole your assize," said he, and just as he said it the -clatter of the mare's hoofs sounded on the causey of the yard, and he -must have minded suddenly for what object she was saddled there. - -"No, no," said he, "you must flee the country. What right have you to -make it any worse for her?" - -"I have not a crown in my pocket," said I. - -"And I have less," he answered quickly. "Where are you going? No, no, -don't tell me that; I'm not to know. There's the mare saddled, I meant -Sandy to send the doctor from the Mearns, but you can do that. Bid him -come here as fast as he can." - -"And must I come back with the mare?" I asked, reckless what he might -say to that, though my life depended on it. - -"For the sake of your mother," he answered, "I would rather never set -eyes on you or the beast again; she's the last transaction between us, -Paul Greig." And then he burst in tears, with his arms about my neck. - -[Illustration: 067] - -Ten minutes later I was on the mare, and galloping, for all her ailing -leg, from Hazel Den as if it were my own loweing conscience. I roused -Dr. Clews at the Mearns, and gave him my father's message. "Man," said -he, holding his chamber light up to my face, "man, ye're as gash as a -ghaist yersel'." - -"I may well be that," said I, and off I set, with some of Uncle Andy's -old experience in my mind, upon a ride across broad Scotland. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -I RIDE BY NIGHT ACROSS SCOTLAND, AND MEET A MARINER WITH A GLEED EYE - -That night was like the day, with a full moon shining. The next -afternoon I rode into Borrowstounness, my horse done out and myself sore -from head to heel; and never in all my life have I seen a place with a -more unwelcome aspect, for the streets were over the hoof in mud; the -natives directed me in an accent like a tinker's whine; the Firth of -Forth was wrapped in a haar or fog that too closely put me in mind of my -prospects. But I had no right to be too particular, and in the course of -an hour I had sold the mare for five pounds to a man of much Christian -profession, who would not give a farthing more on the plea that she was -likely stolen. - -The five pounds and the clothes I stood in were my fortune: it did not -seem very much, if it was to take me out of the reach of the long arm of -the doomster; and thinking of the doomster I minded of the mole upon -my brow, that was the most kenspeckle thing about me in the event of a -description going about the country, so the first thing I bought with -my fortune was a pair of scissors. Going into a pend close in one of the -vennels beside the quay, I clipped off the hair upon the mole and felt a -little safer. I was coming out of the close, pouching the scissors, when -a man of sea-going aspect, with high boots and a tarpaulin hat, stumbled -against me and damned my awkwardness. - -"You filthy hog," said I, exasperated at such manners, for he was -himself to blame for the encounter; "how dare you speak to me like -that?" He was a man of the middle height, sturdy on his bowed legs in -spite of the drink obvious in his face and speech, and he had a roving -gleed black eye. I had never clapped gaze on him in all my life before. - -"Is that the way ye speak to Dan Risk, ye swab?" said he, ludicrously -affecting a dignity that ill suited with his hiccough. "What's the good -of me being a skipper if every linen-draper out of Fife can cut into my -quarter on my own deck?" - -"This is no' your quarter-deck, man, if ye were sober enough to ken it," -said I; "and I'm no linen-draper from Fife or anywhere else." - -And then the brute, with his hands thrust to the depth of his pockets, -staggered me as if he had done it with a blow of his fist. - -"No," said he, with a very cunning tone, "ye're no linen-draper perhaps, -but--ye're maybe no sae decent a man, young Greig." - -It was impossible for me to conceal even from this tipsy rogue my -astonishment and alarm at this. It seemed to me the devil himself must -be leagued against me in the cause of justice. A cold sweat came on my -face and the palms of my hands. I opened my mouth and meant to give him -the lie but I found I dare not do so in the presence of what seemed a -miracle of heaven. - -"How do you ken my name's Greig?" I asked at the last. - -"Fine that," he made answer, with a grin; "and there's mony an odd thing -else I ken." - -"Well, it's no matter," said I, preparing to quit him, but in great fear -of what the upshot might be; "I'm for off, anyway." - -By this time it was obvious that he was not so drunk as I thought him at -first, and that in temper and tact he was my match even with the -glass in him. "Do ye ken what I would be doing if I was you?" said he -seemingly determined not to let me depart like that, for he took a step -or two after me. - -I made no reply, but quickened my pace and after me he came, lurching -and catching at my arm; and I mind to this day the roll of him gave me -the impression of a crab. - -"If it's money ye want-" I said at the end of my patience. - -"Curse your money!" he cried, pretending to spit the insult from his -mouth. "Curse your money; but if I was you, and a weel-kent skipper like -Dan Risk--like Dan Risk of the _Seven Sisters_--made up to me out of a -redeeculous good nature and nothing else, I would gladly go and splice -the rope with him in the nearest ken." - -"Go and drink with yourself, man," I cried; "there's the money for a -chappin of ate, and I'll forego my share of it." - -I could have done nothing better calculated to infuriate him. As I held -out the coin on the palm of my hand he struck it up with an oath and -it rolled into the syver. His face flamed till the neck of him seemed a -round of seasoned beef. - -"By the Rock o' Bass!" he roared, "I would clap ye in jyle for less than -your lousy groat." - -Ah, then, it was in vain I had put the breadth of Scotland between me -and that corpse among the rushes: my heart struggled a moment, and sank -as if it had been drowned in bilge. I turned on the man what must have -been a gallows face, and he laughed, and, gaining his drunken good -nature again he hooked me by the arm, and before my senses were my own -again he was leading me down the street and to the harbour. I had never -a word to say. - -The port, as I tell, was swathed in the haar of the east, out of which -tall masts rose dim like phantom spears; the clumsy tarred bulwarks -loomed like walls along the quay, and the neighbourhood was noisy with -voices that seemed unnatural coming out of the haze. Mariners were -hanging about the sheds, and a low tavern belched others out to keep -them company. Risk made for the tavern, and at that I baulked. - -"Oh, come on!" said he. "If I'm no' mistaken Dan Risk's the very man -ye're in the need of. You're wanting out of Scotland, are ye no'?" - -"More than that; I'm wanting out of myself," said I, but that seemed -beyond him. - -"Come in anyway, and we'll talk it over." - -That he might help me out of the country seemed possible if he was not, -as I feared at first, some agent of the law and merely playing with me, -so I entered the tavern with him. - -"Two gills to the coffin-room, Mrs. Clerihew," he cried to the woman in -the kitchen. "And slippy aboot it, if ye please, for my mate here's been -drinking buttermilk all his life, and ye can tell't in his face." - -"I would rather have some meat," said I. - -"Humph!" quo' he, looking at my breeches. "A lang ride!" He ordered the -food at my mentioning, and made no fuss about drinking my share of the -spirits as well as his own, while I ate with a hunger that was soon -appeased, for my eye, as the saying goes, was iller to satisfy than my -appetite. - -He sat on the other side of the table in the little room that doubtless -fairly deserved the name it got of coffin, for many a man, I'm thinking, -was buried there in his evil habits; and I wondered what was to be next. - -"To come to the bit," said the at last, looking hard into the bottom of -his tankard in a way that was a plain invitation to buy more for him. -"To come to the bit, you're wanting out of the country?" - -"It's true," said I; "but how do you know? And how do you know my name, -for I never saw you to my knowledge in all my life before?" - -"So much the worse for you; I'm rale weel liked by them that kens me. -What would ye give for a passage to Nova Scotia?" - -"It's a long way," said I, beginning to see a little clearer. - -"Ay," said he, "but I've seen a gey lang rope too, and a man danglin' at -the end of it." - -Again my face betrayed me. I made no answer. - -"I ken all aboot it," he went on. "Your name's Greig; ye're from a -place called the Hazel Den at the other side o' the country; ye've been -sailing wi' a stiff breeze on the quarter all night, and the clime -o' auld Scotland's one that doesna suit your health, eh? What's the -amount?" said he, and he looked towards my pocket "Could we no' mak' it -halfers?" - -"Five pounds," said I, and at that he looked strangely dashed. - -"Five pounds," he repeated incredulously. "It seems to have been hardly -worth the while." And then his face changed, as if a new thought had -struck him. He leaned over the table and whispered with the infernal -tone of a confederate, "Doused his glim, eh?" winking with his hale eye, -so that I could not but shiver at him, as at the touch of slime. - -"I don't understand," said I. - -"Do ye no'?" said he, with a sneer; "for a Greig ye're mighty slow in -the uptak'. The plain English o' that, then, is that ye've killed a man. -A trifle like that ance happened to a Greig afore." - -"What's your name?" I demanded. - -"Am I no tellin' ye?" said he shortly. "It's just Daniel Risk; and where -could you get a better? Perhaps ye were thinkin' aboot swappin' names -wi' me; and by the Bass, it's Dan's family name would suit very weel -your present position," and the scoundrel laughed at his own humour. - -"I asked because I was frightened it might be Mahoun," said I. "It seems -gey hard to have ridden through mire for a night and a day, and land -where ye started from at the beginning. And how do ye ken all that?" - -"Oh!" he said, "kennin's my trade, if ye want to know. And whatever way -I ken, ye needna think I'm the fellow to make much of a sang aboot it. -Still and on, the thing's frowned doon on in this country, though in -places I've been it would be coonted to your credit. I'll take anither -gill; and if ye ask me, I would drench the butter-milk wi' something -o' the same, for the look o' ye sittin' there's enough to gie me the -waterbrash. Mrs. Clerihew--here!" He rapped loudly on the table, and -the drink coming in I was compelled again to see him soak himself at my -expense. He reverted to my passage from the country, and "Five pounds is -little enough for it," said he; "but ye might be eking it oot by partly -working your passage." - -"I didn't say I was going either to Nova Scotia or with you," said I, -"and I think I could make a better bargain elsewhere." - -"So could I, maybe," said he, fuming of spirits till I felt sick. "And -it's time I was doin' something for the good of my country." With that -he rose to his feet with a look of great moral resolution, and made as -if for the door, but by this time I understood him better. - -"Sit down, ye muckle hash!" said I, and I stood over him with a most -threatening aspect. - -"By the Lord!" said he, "that's a Greig anyway!" - -"Ay!" said I. "ye seem to ken the breed. Can I get another vessel abroad -besides yours?" - -"Ye can not," said he, with a promptness I expected, "unless ye wait on -the _Sea Pyat_. She leaves for Jamaica next Thursday; and there's no' -a spark of the Christian in the skipper o' her, one Macallum from -Greenock." - -For the space of ten minutes I pondered over the situation. Undoubtedly -I was in a hole. This brute had me in his power so long as my feet were -on Scottish land, and he knew it. At sea he might have me in his power -too, but against that there was one precaution I could take, and I made -up my mind. - -"I'll give you four pounds--half at leaving the quay and the other half -when ye land me." - -"My conscience wadna' aloo me," protested the rogue; but the greed was -in his face, and at last he struck my thumb on the bargain, and when -he did that I think I felt as much remorse at the transaction as at the -crime from whose punishment I fled. - -"Now," said I, "tell me how you knew me and heard about--about--" - -"About what?" said he, with an affected surprise. "Let me tell ye this, -Mr. Greig, or whatever your name may be, that Dan Risk is too much of -the gentleman to have any recollection of any unpleasantness ye may -mention, now that he has made the bargain wi' ye. I ken naethin' -aboot ye, if ye please: whether your name's Greig or Mackay or Habbie -Henderson, it's new to me, only ye're a likely lad for a purser's berth -in the _Seven Sisters._" And refusing to say another word on the topic -that so interested me, he took me down to the ship's side, where I found -the _Seven Sisters_ was a brigantine out of Hull, sadly in the want of -tar upon her timbers and her mainmast so decayed and worm-eaten that it -sounded boss when I struck it with my knuckles in the by-going. - -Risk saw me doing it. He gave an ugly smile. - -"What do ye think o' her? said he, showing me down the companion. - -"Mighty little," I told him straight. "I'm from the moors," said I, "but -I've had my feet on a sloop of Ayr before now; and by the look of this -craft I would say she has been beeking in the sun idle till she rotted -down to the garboard strake." - -He gave his gleed eye a turn and vented some appalling oaths, and wound -up with the insult I might expect--namely, that drowning was not my -portion. - -"There was some brag a little ago of your being a gentleman," said I, -convinced that this blackguard was to be treated to his own fare if he -was to be got on with at all. "There's not much of a gentleman in the -like of that." - -At this he was taken aback. "Well," said he, "don't you cross my temper; -if my temper's crossed it's gey hard to keep up gentility. The ship's -sound enough, or she wouldn't be half a dizen times round the Horn and -as weel kent in Halifax as one o' their ain dories. She's guid enough -for your--for our business, if ye please, Mr. Greig; and here's my mate -Murchison." - -Another tarry-breeks of no more attractive aspect came down the -companion. - -"Here's a new hand for ye," said the skipper humorously. - -The mate looked me up and down with some contempt from his own height of -little more than five feet four, and peeled an oilskin coat off him. -I was clad myself in a good green coat and breeches with fine wool -rig-and-fur hose, and the buckled red shoon and the cock of my hat I -daresay gave me the look of some importance in tarry-breeks' eyes. -At any rate, he did not take Risk's word for my identity, but at last -touched his hat with awkward fingers after relinquishing his look of -contempt. - -"Mr. Jamieson?" said he questioningly, and the skipper by this time was -searching in a locker for a bottle of rum he said he had there for the -signing of agreements. "Mr. Jamieson," said the mate, "I'm glad to see -ye. The money's no; enough for the job, and that's letting ye know. It's -all right for Dan here wi' neither wife nor family, but--" - -"What's that, ye idiot?" cried Risk turning about in alarm. "Do ye tak' -this callan for the owner? I tell't ye he was a new hand." - -"A hand!" repeated Murchison, aback and dubious. - -"Jist that; he's the purser." - -Murchison laughed. "That's a new ornament on the auld randy; he'll be -to keep his keekers on the manifest, like?" said he as one who cracks a -good joke. But still and on he scanned me with a suspicious eye, and -it was not till Risk had taken him aside later in the day and seemingly -explained, that he was ready to meet me with equanimity. By that time -I had paid the skipper his two guineas, for the last of his crew was on -board, every man Jack of them as full as the Baltic, and staggering at -the coamings of the hatches not yet down, until I thought half of them -would finally land in the hold. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -WHEREIN THE "SEVEN SISTERS" ACTS STRANGELY, AND I SIT WAITING FOR THE -MANACLES - -An air of westerly wind had risen after meridian and the haar was gone, -so that when I stood at the break of the poop as the brigantine crept -into the channel and flung out billows of canvas while her drunken -seamen quarrelled and bawled high on the spars, I saw, as I imagined, -the last of Scotland in a pleasant evening glow. My heart sank. It was -not a departure like this I had many a time anticipated when I listened -to Uncle Andys tales; here was I with blood on my hands and a guinea to -start my life in a foreign country; that was not the worst of it either, -for far more distress was in my mind at the reflection that I travelled -with a man who was in my secret. At first I was afraid to go near him -once our ropes were off the pawls, and I, as it were, was altogether -his, but to my surprise there could be no pleasanter man than Risk when -he had the wash of water under his rotten barque. He was not only a -better-mannered man to myself, but he became, in half an hour of the -Firth breeze, as sober as a judge. But for the roving gleed eye, and -what I had seen of him on shore, Captain Dan Risk might have passed for -a model of all the virtues. He called me Mr. Greig and once or twice -(but I stopped that) Young Hazel Den, with no irony in the appellation, -and he was at pains to make his mate see that I was one to be treated -with some respect, proffering me at our first meal together (for I was -to eat in the cuddy,) the first of everything on the table, and even -making some excuses for the roughness of the viands. And I could see -that whatever his qualities of heart might be, he was a good seaman, a -thing to be told in ten minutes by a skipper's step on a deck and his -grip of the rail, and his word of command. Those drunken barnacles of -his seemed to be men with the stuff of manly deeds in them, when at his -word they dashed aloft among the canvas canopy to fist the bulging sail -and haul on clew or gasket, or when they clung on greasy ropes and at a -gesture of his hand heaved cheerily with that "yo-ho" that is the chant -of all the oceans where keels run. - -Murchison was a saturnine, silent man, from whom little was to be got of -edification. The crew numbered eight men, one of them a black deaf -mute, with the name of Antonio Ferdinando, who cooked in a galley little -larger than the Hazel Den kennel. It was apparent that no two of them -had ever met before, such a career of flux and change is the seaman's, -and except one of them, a fellow Horn, who was foremast man, a more -villainous gang I never set eyes on before or since. If Risk had raked -the ports of Scotland with a fine bone comb for vermin, he could not -have brought together a more unpleasant-looking crew. No more than two -of them brought a bag on board, and so ragged was their appearance that -I felt ashamed to air my own good clothes on the same deck with them. - -Fortunately it seemed I had nothing to do with them nor they with me; -all that was ordered for the eking out of my passage, as Risk had -said, was to copy the manifest, and I had no sooner set to that than I -discerned it was a gowk's job just given me to keep me in employ in the -cabin. Whatever his reason, the man did not want me about his deck. I -saw that in an interlude in my writing, when I came up from his airless -den to learn what progress old rotten-beams made under all her canvas. - -It had declined to a mere handful of wind, and the vessel scarcely -moved, seemed indeed steadfast among the sea-birds that swooped and -wheeled and cried around her. I saw the sun just drop among blood-red -clouds over Stirling, and on the shore of Fife its pleasant glow. The -sea swung flat and oily, running to its ebb, and lapping discernibly -upon a recluse promontory of land with a stronghold on it. - -"What do you call yon, Horn?" I said to the seaman I have before -mentioned, who leaned upon the taffrail and watched the vessel's greasy -wake, and I pointed to the gloomy buildings on the shore. - -"Blackness Castle," said he, and he had time to tell no more, for the -skipper bawled upon him for a shirking dog, and ordered the flemishing -of some ropes loose upon the forward deck. Nor was I exempt from -his zeal for the industry of other folks for he came up to me with -a suspicious look, as if he feared I had been hearing news from his -foremast man, and "How goes the manifest, Mr. Greig?" says he. - -"Oh, brawly, brawly!" said I, determined to begin with Captain Daniel -Risk as I meant to end. - -He grew purple, but restrained himself with an effort. "This is not -an Ayr sloop, Mr. Greig," said he; "and when orders go on the _Seven -Sisters_ I like to see them implemented. You must understand that -there's a pressing need for your clerking, or I would not be so soon -putting you at it." - -"At this rate of sailing," says I, "I'll have time to copy some hundred -manifests between here and Nova Scotia." - -"Perhaps you'll permit me to be the best judge of that," he replied in -the English he ever assumed with his dignity, and seeing there was no -more for it, I went back to my quill. - -It was little wonder, in all the circumstances, that I fell asleep over -my task with my head upon the cabin table whereon I wrote, and it was -still early in the night when I crawled into the narrow bunk that the -skipper had earlier indicated as mine. - -Weariness mastered my body, but my mind still roamed; the bunk became -a coffin quicklimed, and the murderer of David Borland lying in it; the -laverock cried across Earn Water and the moors of Renfrew with the voice -of Daniel Risk. And yet the strange thing was that I knew I slept and -dreamed, and more than once I made effort, and dragged myself into -wakefulness from the horrors of my nightmare. At these times there was -nothing to hear but the plop of little waves against the side of the -ship, a tread on deck, and the call of the watch. - -I had fallen into a sleep more profound than any that had yet blessed my -hard couch, when I was suddenly wakened by a busy clatter on the deck, -the shriek of ill-greased davits, the squeak of blocks, and the fall of -a small-boat into the water. Another odd sound puzzled me: but for the -probability that we were out over Bass I could have sworn it was the -murmur of a stream running upon a gravelled shore. A stream--heavens! -There could be no doubt about it now; we were somewhere close in shore, -and the _Seven Sisters_ was lying to. The brigantine stopped in her -voyage where no stoppage should be; a small boat plying to land in -the middle of the night; come! here was something out of the ordinary, -surely, on a vessel seaward bound. I had dreamt of the gallows and of -Dan Risk as an informer. Was it a wonder that there should flash into my -mind the conviction of my betrayal? What was more likely than that the -skipper, secure of my brace of guineas, was selling me to the garrison -of Blackness? - -I clad myself hurriedly and crept cautiously up the companion ladder, -and found myself in overwhelming darkness, only made the more appalling -and strange because the vessel's lights were all extinguished. Silence -large and brooding lay upon the _Seven Sisters_ as she lay in that -obscuring haar that had fallen again; she might be Charon's craft -pausing mid-way on the cursed stream, and waiting for the ferry cry upon -the shore of Time. We were still in the estuary or firth, to judge -by the bickering burn and the odors off-shore, above all the odour of -rotting brake; and we rode at anchor, for her bows were up-water to -the wind and tide, and above me, in the darkness, I could hear the -idle sails faintly flapping in the breeze and the reef-points all -tap-tapping. I seemed to have the deck alone, but for one figure at the -stern; I went back, and found that it was Horn. - -"Where are we?" I asked, relieved to find there the only man I could -trust on board the ship. - -"A little below Blackness," said he shortly with a dissatisfied tone. - -"I did not know we were to stop here," said I, wondering if he knew that -I was doomed. - -"Neither did I," said he, peering into the void of night. "And whit's -mair, I wish I could guess the reason o' oor stopping. The skipper's -been ashore mair nor ance wi' the lang-boat forward there, and I'm sent -back here to keep an e'e on lord kens what except it be yersel'." - -"Are ye indeed?" said I, exceedingly vexed. "Then I ken too well, Horn, -the reason for the stoppage. You are to keep your eye on a man who's -being bargained for with the hangman." - -"I would rather ken naithin' about that," said he, "and onyway I think -ye're mistaken. Here they're comin' back again." - -Two or three small boats were coming down on us out of the darkness; not -that I could see them, but that I heard their oars in muffled rowlocks. - -"If they want me," said I sorrowfully, "they can find me down below," -and back I went and sat me in the cabin, prepared for the manacles. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE STRUGGLE IN THE CABIN, AND AN EERIE SOUND OF RUNNING WATER - -The place stank with bilge and the odour of an ill-trimmed lamp smoking -from a beam; the fragments of the skipper's supper were on the table, -with a broken quadrant; rats scurried and squealed in the bulkheads, -and one stared at me from an open locker, where lay a rum-bottle, -while beetles and slaters travelled along the timbers. But these -things compelled my attention less than the skylights that were masked -internally by pieces of canvas nailed roughly on them. They were not -so earlier in the evening; it must have been done after I had gone to -sleep, and what could be the object? That puzzled me extremely, for it -must have been the same hand that had extinguished all the deck and mast -lights, and though black was my crime darkness was unnecessary to my -betrayal. - -I waited with a heart like lead. - -I heard the boats swung up on the davits, the squeak of the falls, the -tread of the seamen, the voice of Risk in an unusually low tone. In the -bows in a little I heard the windlass click and the chains rasp in the -hawse-holes; we were lifting the anchor. - -For a moment hope possessed me. If we were weighing anchor then my -arrest was not imminent at least; but that consolation lasted briefly -when I thought of the numerous alternatives to imprisonment in -Blackness. - -We were under weigh again; there was a heel to port, and a more rapid -plop of the waters along the carvel planks. And then Risk and his mate -came down. - -I have seldom seen a man more dashed than the skipper when he saw me -sitting waiting on him, clothed and silent. His face grew livid; round -he turned to Murchison and hurried him with oaths to come and clap eyes -on this sea-clerk. I looked for the officer behind them, but they were -alone, and at that I thought more cheerfully I might have been mistaken -about the night's curious proceedings. - -"Anything wrang?" said Risk, affecting nonchalance now that his spate of -oaths was by, and he pulled the rum out of the locker and helped himself -and his mate to a swingeing caulker. - -"Oh, nothing at all," said I, "at least nothing that I know of, Captain -Risk. And are we--are we--at Halifax already?" - -"What do you mean?" said he. And then he looked at me closely, put out -the hand unoccupied by his glass and ran an insolent dirty finger over -my new-clipped mole. "Greig, Greig," said he, "Greig to a hair! I would -have the wee shears to that again, for its growin'." - -"You're a very noticing man," said I, striking down his hand no way -gently, and remembering that he had seen my scissors when I emerged from -the Borrowstouness close after my own barbering. - -"I'm all that," he replied, with a laugh, and all the time Murchison, -the mate, sat mopping his greasy face with a rag, as one after hard -work, and looked on us with wonder at what we meant. "I'm all that," -he replied, "the hair aff the mole and the horse-hair on your creased -breeches wad hae tauld ony ane that ye had ridden in a hurry and clipped -in a fricht o' discovery." - -"Oh, oh!" I cried, "and that's what goes to the makin' o' a Mahoun!" - -"Jist that," said he, throwing himself on a seat with an easy -indifference meant to conceal his vanity. "Jist observation and a knack -o' puttin' twa and twa thegether. Did ye think the skipper o' the _Seven -Sisters_ was fleein' over Scotland at the tail o' your horse?" - -"The Greig mole's weel kent, surely," said I, astonished and chagrined. -"I jalouse it's notorious through my Uncle Andy?" - -Risk laughed at that. "Oh, ay!" said he, "when Andy Greig girned at ye -it was ill to miss seein' his mole. Man, ye might as well wear your name -on the front o' your hat as gae aboot wi' a mole like that--and--and -that pair o' shoes." - -The blood ran to my face at this further revelation of his astuteness. -It seemed, then, I carried my identity head and foot, and it was no -wonder a halfeyed man like Risk should so easily discover me. I looked -down at my feet, and sure enough, when I thought of it now, it would -have been a stupid man who, having seen these kenspeckle shoes once, -would ever forget them. - -"My uncle seems to have given me good introductions," said I. "They -struck mysel' as rather dandy for a ship," broke in the mate, at last -coming on something he could understand. - -"And did _you_ know Andy Greig, too?" said I. "Andy Greig," he replied. -"Not me!" - -"Then, by God, ye hinna sailed muckle aboot the warld!" said the -skipper. "I hae seen thae shoes in the four quarters and aye in a good -companionship." - -"They appear yet to retain that virtue," said I, unable to resist the -irony. "And, by the way, Captain Risk, now that we have discussed the -shoes and my mole, what have we been waiting for at Blackness?" - -His face grew black with annoyance. - -"What's that to you?" he cried. - -"Oh, I don't know," I answered indifferently. "I thought that now ye had -got the best part o' your passage money ye might hae been thinking to do -something for your country again. They tell me it's a jail in there, -and it might suggest itself to you as providing a good opportunity for -getting rid of a very indifferent purser." - -It is one thing I can remember to the man's credit that this innuendo -of treachery seemed to make him frantic. He dashed the rum-glass at -his feet and struck at me with a fist like a jigot of mutton, and I had -barely time to step back and counter. He threw himself at me as he had -been a cat; I closed and flung my arms about him with a wrestler's grip, -and bent him back upon the table edge, where I might have broken his -spine but for Murchison's interference. The mate called loudly for -assistance; footsteps pounded on the cuddy-stair, and down came Horn. -Between them they drew us apart, and while Murchison clung to his -captain, and plied him into quietness with a fresh glass of grog, Horn -thrust me not unkindly out into the night, and with no unwillingness on -my part. - -[Illustration 091] - -It was the hour of dawn, and the haar was gone. - -There was something in that chill grey monotone of sky and sea that -filled me with a very passion of melancholy. The wind had risen, and the -billows ran frothing from the east; enormous clouds hung over the land -behind us, so that it seemed to roll with smoke from the eternal fires. -Out from that reeking pit of my remorse--that lost Scotland where now -perhaps there still lay lying among the rushes, with the pees-weep's cry -above it, the thing from which I flew, our ship went fast, blown upon -the frothy billows, like a ponderous bird, leaving a wake of hissing -bubbling brine, flying, as it seemed, to a world of less imminent -danger, yet unalluring still. - -I looked aloft at the straining spars; they seemed to prick the clouds -between the swelling sails; the ropes and shrouds stretched infinitely -into a region very grey and chill. Oh, the pallor! oh, the cold and -heartless spirit of the sea in that first dawning morn! - -"It's like to be a good day," said Horn, breaking in upon my silence, -and turning to him I saw his face exceeding hollow and wan. The watch -lay forward, all but a lad who seemed half-dozing at the helm; Risk and -his mate had lapsed to silence in the cuddy. - -"You're no frien', seemingly, o' the pair below!" said Horn again, -whispering, and with a glance across his shoulder at the helm. - -"It did not look as if I were, a minute or two ago," said I. "Yon's a -scoundrel, and yet I did him an injustice when I thought he meant to -sell me." - -"I never sailed with a more cheat-the-widdy crew since I followed the -sea," said Horn, "and whether it's the one way or the other, sold ye -are." - -"Eh?" said I, uncomprehending. - -He looked again at the helm, and moved over to a water-breaker further -forward, obviously meaning that I should follow. He drew a drink of -water for himself, drank slowly, but seemed not to be much in the need -for it from the little he took, but he had got out of ear-shot of the -man steering. - -"You and me's the gulls this time, Mr. Greig," said he, whispering. -"This is a doomed ship." - -"I thought as much from her rotten spars," I answered. "So long as she -takes me to Nova Scotia I care little what happens to her." - -"It's a long way to Halifax," said he. "I wish I could be sure we were -likely even to have Land's End on our starboard before waur happens. -Will ye step this way, Mr. Greig?" and he cautiously led the way -forward. There was a look-out humming a stave of song somewhere in the -bows, and two men stretched among the chains, otherwise that part of the -ship was all our own. We went down the fo'c'sle scuttle quietly, and -I found myself among the carpenter's stores, in darkness, divided by a -bulkhead door from the quarters of the sleeping men. Rats were scurrying -among the timbers and squealing till Horn stamped lightly with his feet -and secured stillness. - -"Listen!" said he. - -I could hear nothing but the heavy breathing of a seaman within, and the -wash of water against the ship's sides. - -"Well?" I queried, wondering. - -"Put your lug here," said he, indicating a beam that was dimly revealed -by the light from the lamp swinging in the fo'c'sle. I did so, and heard -water running as from a pipe somewhere in the bowels of the vessel. - -"What's that?" I asked. - -"That's all," said he and led me aft again. - -The dawn by now had spread over half the heavens; behind us the mouth of -the Firth gulped enormous clouds, and the fringe of Fife was as flat -as a bannock; before us the sea spread chill, leaden, all unlovely. "My -sorrow!" says I, "if this is travelling, give me the high-roads and the -hot noon." - -Horn's face seemed more hollow and dark than ever in the wan morning. I -waited his explanation. "I think ye said Halifax, Mr. Greig?" said he. "I -signed on, mysel', for the same port, but you and me's perhaps the only -ones on this ship that ever hoped to get there. God give me grace to get -foot on shore and Dan Risk will swing for this!" - -Somebody sneezed behind us as Horn thus rashly expressed himself; we -both turned suddenly on the rail we had been leaning against, expecting -that this was the skipper, and though it was not Risk, it was one whose -black visage and gleaming teeth and rolling eyes gave me momentarily -something of a turn. - -It was the cook Ferdinando. He had come up behind on his bare feet, and -out upon the sea he gazed with that odd eerie look of the deaf and dumb, -heedless of us, it seemed, as we had been dead portions of the ship's -fabric, seeing but the salt wave, the rim of rising sun, blood-red upon -the horizon, communing with an old familiar. - -"A cauld momin', cook," said Horn, like one who tests a humbug -pretending to be dumb, but Ferdinando heard him not. - -"It might have been a man wi' all his faculties," said the seaman -whispering, "and it's time we werena seen thegether. I'll tell ye later -on." - -With that we separated, he to some trivial duty of his office, I, with -a mind all disturbed, back to my berth to lie awake, tossing and -speculating on the meaning of Horn's mystery. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE SCUTTLED SHIP - -When I went on deck next morning there was something great ado. We were -out of sight of land, sailing large, as the old phrase went, on a brisk -quarter breeze with top-sails atrip, and the sky a vast fine open blue. -The crew were gathered at the poop, the pump was clanking in the midst -of them, and I saw they were taking spells at the cruellest labour a -seaman knows. - -At first I was noway troubled at the spectacle; a leak was to be -expected in old rotten-beams, and I went forward with the heart of me -not a pulse the faster. - -Risk was leaning over the poop-rail, humped up and his beard on -his hands; Murchison, a little apart, swept the horizon with a -prospect-glass, and the pump sent a great spate of bilge-water upon the -deck. But for a man at the tiller who kept the ship from yawing in the -swell that swung below her counter the _Seven Sisters_ sailed at her -sweet will; all the interest of her company was in this stream of -stinking water that she retched into the scuppers. And yet I could not -but be struck by the half-hearted manner in which the seamen wrought; -they were visibly shirking; I saw it in the slack muscles, in the -heedless eyes. - -Risk rose and looked sourly at me as I went up. "Are ye for a job?" said -he. "It's more in your line perhaps than clerkin'." - -"What, at the pumps? Is the old randy geyzing already?" - -"Like a washing-boyne," said he. "Bear a hand like a good lad! we maun -keep her afloat at least till some other vessel heaves in sight." - -In the tone and look of the man there was something extraordinary. -His words were meant to suggest imminent peril, and yet his voice was -shallow as that of a burgh bellman crying an auction sale, and his eyes -had more interest in the horizon that his mate still searched with the -prospect-glass than in the spate of bilge that gulped upon the deck. - -Bilge did I say? Heavens! it was bilge no more, but the pure sea-green -that answered to the clanking pump. It was no time for idle wonder -at the complacence of the skipper; I flew to the break and threw -my strength into the seaman's task. "Clank-click, clank-click"--the -instrument worked reluctantly as if the sucker moved in slime, and in a -little the sweat poured from me. - -"How is she now, Campbell?" asked Risk, as the carpenter came on deck. - -"Three feet in the hold," said Campbell airily, like one that had an -easy conscience. - -"Good lord, a foot already!" cried Risk, and then in a tone of sarcasm, -"Hearty, lads, hearty there! A little more Renfrewshire beef into it, -Mr. Greig, if you please." - -At that I ceased my exertion, stood back straight and looked at the -faces about me. There was only one man in the company who did not seem -to be amused at me, and that was Horn, who stood with folded arms, -moodily eying the open sea. - -"You seem mighty joco about it," I said to Risk, and I wonder to this -day at my blindness that never read the whole tale in these hurried -events. - -"I can afford to be," he said quickly; "if I gang I gang wi' clean -hands," and he spat into the seawater streaming from the pump where the -port-watch now were working with as much listlessness as the men they -superseded. - -To the taunt I made no reply, but moved after Horn who had gone forward -with his hands in his pockets. - -"What does this mean, Horn?" I asked him. "Is the vessel in great -danger?" - -"I suppose she is," said he bitterly, "but I have had nae experience o' -scuttled ships afore." - -"Scuttled!" cried I, astounded, only half grasping his meaning. - -"Jist that," said he. "The job's begun. It began last night in the run -of the vessel as I showed ye when ye put your ear to the beam. After I -left ye, I foun' half a dizen cords fastened to the pump stanchels; ane -of them I pulled and got a plug at the end of it; the ithers hae been -comin' oot since as it suited Dan Risk best, and the _Seven Ststers_ is -doomed to die o' a dropsy this very day. Wasn't I the cursed idiot that -ever lipped drink in Clerihew's coffin-room!" - -"If it was that," said I, "why did you not cut the cords and spoil the -plot?" - -"Cut the cords! Ye mean cut my ain throat; that's what wad happen if the -skipper guessed my knowledge o' his deevilry. And dae ye think a gallows -job o' this kind depends a'thegither on twa or three bits o' twine? -Na, na, this is a very business-like transaction, Mr. Greig, and I'll -warrant there has been naethin' left to chance. I wondered at them bein' -sae pernicketty about the sma' boats afore we sailed when the timbers -o' the ship hersel' were fair ganting. That big new boat and sails frae -Kirkcaldy was a gey odd thing in itsel' if I had been sober enough to -think o't. I suppose ye paid your passage, Mr. Greig? I can fancy a -purser on the _Seven Sisters_ upon nae ither footin' and that made me -dubious o' ye when I first learned o' this hell's caper for Jamieson o' -the Grange. If ye hadna fought wi' the skipper I would hae coonted ye in -wi' the rest." - -"He has two pounds of my money," I answered; "at least I've saved the -other two if we fail to reach Halifax." - -At that he laughed softly again. - -"It might be as well wi' Risk as wi' the conger," said he, meaningly. -"I'm no' sae sure that you and me's meant to come oot o' this; that's -what I might tak' frae their leaving only the twa o' us aft when they -were puttin' the cargo aff there back at Blackness." - -"The cargo!" I repeated. - -"Of course," said Horn. "Ye fancied they were goin' to get rid o' ye -there, did ye? I'll alloo I thought that but a pretence on your pairt, -and no' very neatly done at that. Well, the smallest pairt but the maist -valuable o' the cargo shipped at Borrowstouness is still in Scotland; -and the underwriters 'll be to pay through the nose for what has never -run sea risks." - -At that a great light came to me. This was the reason for the masked -cuddy skylights, the utter darkness of the _Seven Sisters_ while her -boats were plying to the shore; for this was I so closely kept at her -ridiculous manifest; the lists of lace and plate I had been fatuously -copying were lists of stuff no longer on the ship at all, but back in -the possession of the owner of the brigantine. - -"You are an experienced seaman--?" - -"I have had a vessel of my own," broke in Horn, some vanity as well as -shame upon his countenance. - -"Well, you are the more likely to know the best way out of this trap we -are in," I went on. "For a certain reason I am not at all keen on it to -go back to Scotland, but I would sooner risk that than run in leash -with a scoundrel like this who's sinking his command, not to speak of -hazarding my unworthy life with a villainous gang. Is there any way out -of it, Horn?" - -The seaman pondered, a dark frown upon his tanned forehead, where the -veins stood out in knots, betraying his perturbation. The wind whistled -faintly in the tops, the _Seven Sisters_ plainly went by the head; she -had a slow response to her helm, and moved sluggishly. Still the pump -was clanking and we could hear the water streaming through the scupper -holes. Risk had joined his mate and was casting anxious eyes over the -waters. - -"If we play the safty here, Mr. Greig," said Horn, "there's a chance o' -a thwart for us when the _Seven Ststers_ comes to her labour. That's oor -only prospect. At least they daurna murder us." - -"And what about the crew?" I asked. "Do you tell me there is not enough -honesty among them all to prevent a blackguardly scheme like this?" - -"We're the only twa on this ship this morning wi' oor necks ootside tow, -for they're all men o' the free trade, and broken men at that," said -Horn resolutely, and even in the midst of this looming disaster my -private horror rose within me. - -"Ah!" said I, helpless to check the revelation, "speak for yourself, Mr. -Horn; it's the hangman I'm here fleeing from." - -He looked at me with quite a new countenance, clearly losing relish for -his company. - -"Anything by-ordinar dirty?" he asked, and in my humility I did not have -the spirit to resent what that tone and query implied. - -"Dirty enough," said I, "the man's dead," and Horn's face cleared. - -"Oh, faith! is that all?" quo' he, "I was thinkin' it might be -coinin'--beggin' your pardon, Mr. Greig, or somethin' in the fancy way. -But a gentleman's quarrel ower the cartes or a wench--that's a different -tale. I hate homicide mysel' to tell the truth, but whiles I've had -it in my heart, and in a way o' speakin* Dan Risk this meenute has my -gully-knife in his ribs." - -As he spoke the vessel, mishandled, or a traitor to her helm, now that -she was all awash internally with water, yawed and staggered in the -wind. The sails shivered, the yards swung violently, appalling noises -came from the hold. At once the pumping ceased, and Risk's voice roared -in the confusion, ordering the launch of the Kirkcaldy boat. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -MAKES PLAIN THE DEEPEST VILLAINY OF RISK AND SETS ME ON A FRENCHMAN - -When I come to write these affairs down after the lapse of years, I find -my memory but poorly retains the details of that terrific period between -the cry of Risk and the moment when Horn and I, abandoned on the doomed -vessel, watched the evening fall upon the long Kirkcaldy boat, her mast -stepped, but her sails down, hovering near us for the guarantee of our -eternal silence regarding the crime the men on her were there and then -committing. There is a space--it must have been brief, but I lived a -lifetime in it--whose impressions rest with me, blurred, but with the -general hue of agony. I can see the sun again sailing overhead in the -arching sky of blue; the enormous ocean, cruel, cold, spread out to the -line of the horizon; the flapping sails and drumming reef-points, the -streaming halliards and clew-garnets, the spray buffeting upon our hull -and spitting in our faces like an enemy; I hear the tumult of the seamen -hurrying vulgarly to save their wretched lives, the gluck of waters -in the bowels of the ship, the thud of cargo loose and drifting under -decks. - -But I see and hear it all as in a dream or play, and myself someway -standing only a spectator. - -It seemed that Risk and his men put all their dependence on the -long-boat out of Kirkcaldy. She was partly decked at the bows like a -Ballantrae herring-skiff, beamy and commodious. They clustered round her -like ants; swung her out, and over she went, and the whole hellish -plot lay revealed in the fact that she was all found with equipment and -provisions. - -Horn and I made an effort to assist at her preparation; we were shoved -aside with frantic curses; we were beaten back by her oars when we -sought to enter her, and when she pushed off from the side of the _Seven -Sisters_, Dan Risk was so much the monster that he could jeer at our -perplexity. He sat at the tiller of her without a hat, his long hair, -that was turning lyart, blown by the wind about his black and mocking -eyes. - -"Head her for Halifax, Horn," said he, "and ye'll get there by-and-by." - -"Did I ever do ye any harm, skipper?" cried the poor seaman, standing on -the gunwale, hanging to the shrouds, and his aspect hungry for life. - -"Ye never got the chance, Port Glesca," cried back Risk, hugging the -tiller of the Kirkcaldy boat under his arm. "I'll gie ye a guess-- - - Come-a-riddle, come-a-riddle, come-a-rote-tote-tote-- - -Oh to bleezes! I canna put a rhyme till't, but this is the sense o't--a -darkie's never deaf and dumb till he's deid. Eh! Antonio, ye rascal!" - -He looked forward as he spoke and exchanged a villainous laugh with the -cook, his instrument, who had overheard us and betrayed. - -"Ye would mak' me swing for it, would ye, John Horn, when ye get ashore? -That's what I would expect frae a keelie oot o' Clyde." - -It is hard to credit that man could be so vile as this, but of such -stuff was Daniel Risk. He was a fiend in the glory of his revenge upon -the seaman who had threatened him with the gallows; uplifted like a -madman's, his face, that was naturally sallow, burned lamp-red at his -high cheek-bones, his hale eye gloated, his free hand flourished as -in an exultation. His mate sat silent beside him on the stern-thwart, -clearing the sheets: the crew, who had out the sweeps to keep the boat's -bows in the wind, made an effort to laugh at his jocosities, but clearly -longed to be away from this tragedy. And all the time, I think, I stood -beside the weather bulwark, surrendered to the certainty of a speedy -death, with the lines of a ballad coming back again and again to my -mind: - - An' he shall lie in fathoms deep, - The star-fish ower his een shall creep. - An' an auld grey wife shall sit an' weep - In the hall o' Monaltrie. - -I thrust that ungodly rhyme from me each time that it arose, but in -spite of me at last it kept time to the lap of a wave of encroaching sea -that beat about my feet. - -My silence--my seeming indifference--would seem to have touched the -heart that could not be affected by the entreaties of the seaman Horn. -At least Risk ceased his taunts at last, and cast a more friendly eye on -me. - -"I'm saying, Greig," he cried, "noo that I think o't, your Uncle Andy -was no bad hand at makin' a story. Ye've an ill tongue, but I'll thole -that--astern, lads, and tak' the purser aboard." - -The seamen set the boat about willingly enough, and she crept in to pick -me off the doomed ship. - -At that my senses cleared like hill-well water. It was for but a -second--praise God! my instincts joyed in my reprieve; my hand never -released the cleat by which I steadied myself. I looked at Horn still -upon the lower shrouds and saw hope upon his countenance. - -"Of course this man comes with me, Captain Risk?" said I. - -"Not if he offered a thousand pounds," cried Risk, "in ye come!" and -Murchison clawed at the shrouds with a boat-hook. Horn made to jump -among them and, with an oath, the mate thrust at him with the hook as -with a spear, striking him under the chin. He fell back upon the deck, -bleeding profusely and half insensible. - -"You are a foul dog!" I cried to his assailant. "And I'll settle with -you for that!" - -"Jump, ye fool, ye, jump!" cried Risk impatient. - -"Let us look oot for oorselves, that's whit I say," cried Murchison -angry at my threat, and prepared cheerfully to see me perish. "What -for should we risk oor necks with either o' them?" and he pushed off -slightly with his boat-hook. - -The skipper turned, struck down the hook, and snarled upon him. "Shut -up, Murchison!" he cried. "I'm still the captain, if ye please, and I -ken as much about the clerk here as will keep his gab shut on any trifle -we hae dune." - -I looked upon the clean sea, and then at that huddle of scoundrels in -the Kirkcaldy boat, and then upon the seaman Horn coming back again to -the full consciousness of his impending fate. He gazed upon me with eyes -alarmed and pitiful, and at that I formed my resolution. - -"I stick by Horn," said I. "If he gets too, I'll go; if not I'll bide -and be drowned with an honest man." - -"Bide and be damned then! Ye've had your chance," shouted Risk, letting -his boat fall off. "It's time we werena here." And the halliards of his -main-sail were running in the blocks as soon as he said it. The boat -swept away rapidly, but not before I gave him a final touch of my irony. -From my pocket I took out my purse and threw it upon his lap. - -"There's the ither twa, Risk," I cried; "it's no' like the thing at all -to murder a harmless lad for less than what ye bargained for." - -He bawled back some reply I could not hear, and I turned about, to see -Horn making for the small boat on the starboard chocks. I followed with -a hope again wakened, only to share his lamentation when he found -that two of her planks had been wantonly sprung from their clinkers, -rendering her utterly useless. The two other boats were in a similar -condition; Risk and his confederates had been determined that no chance -should be left of our escape from the _Seven Sisters_. - -It was late in the afternoon. The wind had softened somewhat; in the -west there were rising billowy clouds of silver and red, and half a mile -away the Kirkcaldy boat, impatient doubtless for the end of us, that -final assurance of safety, plied to windward with only her foresail set. -We had gone below in a despairing mind on the chance that the leakage -might be checked, but the holes were under water in the after peak, and -in other parts we could not come near. An inch-and-a-half auger, and a -large bung-borer, a gouge and chisel in the captain's private locker, -told us how the crime had been committed whereof we were the victims. - -We had come on deck again, the pair of us, without the vaguest notion -of what was next to do, and--speaking for myself--convinced that nothing -could avert our hurrying fate. Horn told me later that he proposed full -half a score of plans for at least a prolongation of our time, but that -I paid no heed to them. That may be, for I know the ballad stanza went -in my head like a dirge, as I sat on a hatch with the last few days of -my history rolling out before my eyes. The dusk began to fall like a -veil, the wind declined still further. Horn feverishly hammered and -caulked at the largest of the boats, now and then throwing the tools -from him as in momentary realisations of the hopelessness of his toil -that finally left him in despair. - -"It's no use, Mr. Greig," he cried then, "they did the job ower weel," -and he shook his fist at the Kirkcaldy boat. He checked the gesture -suddenly and gave an astonished cry. - -"They're gone, Greig," said he, now frantic. "They're gone. O God! -they're gone! I was sure they couldna hae the heart to leave us at the -last," and as he spoke I chanced to look astern, and behold! a ship with -all her canvas full was swiftly bearing down the wind upon us. We had -been so intent upon our fate that we had never seen her! - -I clambered up the shrouds of the main-mast, and cried upon the coming -vessel with some mad notion that she might fancy the _Seven Sisters_ -derelict. But indeed that was not necessary. In a little she went round -into the wind, a long-boat filled with men came towards us, and twenty -minutes later we were on the deck of the _Roi Rouge_. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -WHEREIN APPEARS A GENTLEMANLY CORSAIR AND A FRENCH-IRISH LORD - -While it may be that the actual crisis of my manhood came to me on the -day I first put on my Uncle Andrew's shoes, the sense of it was mine -only when I met with Captain Thurot. I had put the past for ever behind -me (as I fancied) when I tore the verses of a moon-struck boy and -cast them out upon the washing-green at Hazel Den, but I was bound -to foregather with men like Thurot and his friends ere the scope and -fashion of a man's world were apparent to me. Whether his influence on -my destiny in the long run was good or bad I would be the last to say; -he brought me into danger, but--in a manner--he brought me good, though -that perhaps was never in his mind. - -You must fancy this Thurot a great tall man, nearly half a foot -exceeding myself in stature, peak-bearded, straight as a lance, with -plum-black eyes and hair, polished in dress and manner to the rarest -degree and with a good humour that never failed. He sat under a swinging -lamp in his cabin when Horn and I were brought before him, and asked my -name first in an accent of English that was if anything somewhat better -than my own. - -"Greig," said I; "Paul Greig," and he started as if I had pricked him -with a knife. - -A little table stood between us, on which there lay a book he had been -reading when we were brought below, some hours after the _Seven Sisters_ -had gone down, and the search for the Kirkcaldy boat had been abandoned. -He took the lamp off its hook, came round the table and held the light -so that he could see my face the clearer. At any time his aspect was -manly and pleasant; most of all was it so when he smiled, and I was -singularly encouraged when he smiled at me, with a rapid survey of my -person that included the Hazel Den mole and my Uncle Andrew's shoes. - -A seaman stood behind us; to him he spoke a message I could not -comprehend, as it was in French, of which I had but little. The seaman -retired; we were offered a seat, and in a minute the seaman came back -with a gentleman--a landsman by his dress. - -"Pardon, my lord," said the captain to his visitor, "but I thought that -here was a case--speaking of miracles--you would be interested in. -Our friends here"--he indicated myself particularly with a gracious -gesture--"are not, as you know, dropped from heaven, but come from that -unfortunate ship we saw go under a while ago. May I ask your lordship to -tell us--you will see the joke in a moment--whom we were talking of at -the moment our watch first announced the sight of that vessel?" - -His lordship rubbed his chin and smilingly peered at the captain. - -"Gad!" he said. "You are the deuce and all, Thurot. What are you in the -mood for now? Why, we talked of Greig--Andrew Greig, the best player of -_passe-passe_ and the cheerfullest loser that ever cut a pack." - -Thurot turned to me, triumphant. - -"Behold," said he, "how ridiculously small the world is. _Ma foi!_ I -wonder how I manage so well to elude my creditors, even when I sail the -high seas. Lord Clancarty, permit me to have the distinguished honour -to introduce another Greig, who I hope has many more of his charming -uncle's qualities than his handsome eyes and red shoes. I assume it is -a nephew, because poor Monsieur Andrew was not of the marrying -kind. Anyhow, 'tis a Greig of the blood, or Antoine Thurot is a bat! -And--Monsieur Greig, it is my felicity to bid you know one of your -uncle's best friends and heartiest admirers--Lord Clancarty." - -"Lord Clancarty!" I cried, incredulous. "Why he figured in my uncle's -log-book a dozen years ago." - -"A dozen, no less!" cried his lordship, with a grimace. "We need not be -so particular about the period. I trust he set me down there a decently -good companion; I could hardly hope to figure in a faithful scribe's -tablets as an example otherwise," said his lordship, laughing and taking -me cordially by the hand. "Gad! one has but to look at you to see Andrew -Greig in every line. I loved your uncle, lad. He had a rugged, manly -nature, and just sufficient folly, bravado, and sinfulness to keep a -poor Irishman in countenance. Thurot, one must apologise for taking from -your very lips the suggestion I see hesitating there, but sure 'tis an -Occasion this; it must be a bottle--the best bottle on your adorable but -somewhat ill-found vessel. Why 'tis Andy Greig come young again. Poor -Andy! I heard of his death no later than a month ago, and have ordered -a score of masses for him--which by the way are still unpaid for to good -Father Hamilton. I could not sleep happily of an evening--of a forenoon -rather--if I thought of our Andy suffering aught that a few candles and -such-like could modify." And his lordship with great condescension -tapped and passed me his jewelled box of maccabaw. - -You can fancy a raw lad, untutored and untravelled, fresh from the -plough-tail, as it were, was vastly tickled at this introduction to the -genteel world. I was no longer the shivering outlaw, the victim of a -Risk. I was honoured more or less for the sake of my uncle (whose esteem -in this quarter my father surely would have been surprised at), and it -seemed as though my new life in a new country were opening better than I -had planned myself. I blessed my shoes--the Shoes of Sorrow--and for the -time forgot the tragedy from which I was escaping. - -They birled the bottle between them, Clancarty and Thurot, myself -virtually avoiding it, but clinking now and then, and laughing with them -at the numerous exploits they recalled of him that was the bond between -us; Horn elsewhere found himself well treated also; and listening to -these two gentlemen of the world, their allusions, off-hand, to the -great, their indications of adventure, travel, intrigue, enterprise, -gaiety, I saw my horizon expand until it was no longer a cabin on the -sea I sat in, with the lamplight swinging over me, but a spacious world -of castles, palaces, forests, streets, churches, casernes, harbours, -masquerades, routs, operas, love, laughter, and song. Perhaps they saw -my elation and fully understood, and smiled within them at my efforts -to figure as a little man of the world too--as boys will--but they never -showed me other than the finest sympathy and attention. - -I found them fascinating at night; I found them much the same at -morning, which is the test of the thing in youth, and straightway made a -hero of the foreigner Thurot. Clancarty was well enough, but without -any method in his life, beyond a principle of keeping his character ever -trim and presentable like his cravat. Thurot carried on his strenuous -career as soldier, sailor, spy, politician, with a plausible enough -theory that thus he got the very juice and pang of life, that at the -most, as he would aye be telling me, was brief to an absurdity. - -"Your Scots," he would say to me, "as a rule, are too phlegmatic--is it -not, Lord Clancarty?--but your uncle gave me, on my word, a regard for -your whole nation. He had aplomb--Monsieur Andrew; he had luck too, and -if he cracked a nut anywhere there was always a good kernel in it." And -the shoes see how I took the allusion to King George, and that gave me a -flood of light upon my new position. - -I remembered that in my uncle's log-book the greater part of the -narrative of his adventures in France had to do with politics and the -intrigues of the Jacobite party. He was not, himself, apparently, "out," -as we call it, in the affair of the 'Forty-five, because he did not -believe the occasion suitable, and thought the Prince precipitous, but -before and after that untoward event for poor Scotland, he had been -active with such men as Clancarty, Lord Clare, the Murrays, the -Mareschal, and such-like, which was not to be wondered at, perhaps, for -our family had consistently been Jacobite, a fact that helped to its -latter undoing, though my father as nominal head of the house had taken -no interest in politics; and my own sympathies had ever been with the -Chevalier, whom I as a boy had seen ride through the city of Glasgow, -wishing myself old enough to be his follower in such a glittering -escapade as he was then embarked on. - -But though I thought all this in a flash as it were, I betrayed nothing -to Captain Thurot, who seemed somewhat dashed at my silence. There must -have been something in my face, however, to show that I fully realised -what he was feeling at, and was not too complacent, for Clancarty -laughed. - -"Sure, 'tis a good boy, Thurot," said he, "and loves his King George -properly, like a true patriot." - -"I won't believe it of a Greig," said Captain Thurot. "A pestilent, -dull thing, loyalty in England; the other thing came much more readily, -I remember, to the genius of Andrew Greig. Come! Monsieur Paul, to be -quite frank about it, have you no instincts of friendliness to the -exiled house? M. Tete-de-fer has a great need at this particular moment -for English friends. Once he could count on your uncle to the last -ditch; can he count on the nephew?" - -"M. Tete-de-fer?" I repeated, somewhat bewildered. - -"M. Tete-de-mouche, rather," cried my lord, testily, and then hurried to -correct himself. "He alluded, Monsieur Greig, to Prince Charles Edward. -We are all, I may confess, his Royal Highness's most humble servants; -some of us, however--as our good friend, Captain Thurot--more actively -than others. For myself I begin to weary of a cause that has -been dormant for eight years, but no matter; sure one must have a -recreation!" - -I looked at his lordship to see if he was joking. He was the relic of -a handsome man, though still, I daresay, less than fifty years of age, -with a clever face and gentle, just tinged by the tracery of small -surface veins to a redness that accused him of too many late nights; -his mouth and eyes, that at one time must have been fascinating, had -the ultimate irresolution that comes to one who finds no fingerposts at -life's cross-roads and thinks one road just as good's another. He was -born at Atena, near Hamburg (so much I had remembered from my uncle's -memoir), but he was, even in his accent, as Irish as Kerry. Someway I -liked and yet doubted him, in spite of all the praise of him that I had -read in a dead man's diurnal. - -"_Fi donc! vous devriez avoir honte, milord_," cried Thurot, somewhat -disturbed, I saw, at this reckless levity. - -"Ashamed!" said his lordship, laughing; "why, 'tis for his Royal -Highness who has taken a diligence to the devil, and left us poor -dependants to pay the bill at the inn. But no matter, Master Greig, I'll -be cursed if I say a single word more to spoil a charming picture of -royalty under a cloud." And so saying he lounged away from us, a strange -exquisite for shipboard, laced up to the nines, as the saying goes, -parading the deck as it had been the Rue St. Honore, with merry words -for every sailorman who tapped a forehead to him. - -Captain Thurot looked at him, smiling, and shrugged his shoulders. - -"_Tete-de-mouche!_ There it is for you, M. Paul--the head of a -butterfly. Now you--" he commanded my eyes most masterfully--"now _you_ -have a Scotsman's earnestness; I should like to see you on the right -side. _Mon Dieu_, you owe us your life, no less; 'tis no more King -George's, for one of his subjects has morally sent you to the bottom of -the sea in a scuttled ship. I wish we had laid hands on your Risk and -his augers." - -But I was learning my world; I was cautious; I said neither yea nor nay. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -IN DUNKERQUE--A LADY SPEAKS TO ME IN SCOTS AND A FAT PRIEST SEEMS TO -HAVE SOMETHING ON HIS MIND - -Two days after, the _Roi Rouge_ came to Dunkerque; Horn the seaman went -home to Scotland in a vessel out of Leith with a letter in his pocket -for my people at Hazel Den, and I did my best for the next fortnight to -forget by day the remorse that was my nightmare. To this Captain Thurot -and Lord Clancarty, without guessing 'twas a homicide they favoured, -zealously helped me. - -And then Dunkerque at the moment was sparkling with attractions. -Something was in its air to distract every waking hour, the pulse -of drums, the sound of trumpets calling along the shores, troops -manoeuvring, elation apparent in every countenance. I was Thurot's guest -in a lodging over a _boulangerie_ upon the sea front, and at daybreak I -would look out from the little window to see regiments of horse and foot -go by on their way to an enormous camp beside the old fort of Risebank. -Later in the morning I would see the soldiers toiling at the grand -sluice for deepening the harbour or repairing the basin, or on the dunes -near Graveline manoeuvring under the command of the Prince de Soubise -and Count St. Germain. All day the paving thundered with the roll of -tumbrels, with the noise of plunging horse; all night the front of -the _boulangerie_ was clamorous with carriages bearing cannon, timber, -fascines, gabions, and other military stores. - -Thurot, with his ship in harbour, became a man of the town, with ruffled -neck- and wrist-bands, the most extravagant of waistcoats, hats laced -with point d'Espagne, and up and down Dunkerque he went with a restless -foot as if the conduct of the world depended on him. He sent an old -person, a reduced gentleman, to me to teach me French that I laboured -with as if my life depended on it from a desire to be as soon as -possible out of his reverence, for, to come to the point and be done -with it, he was my benefactor to the depth of my purse. - -Sometimes Lord Clancarty asked me out to a _dejeuner_. He moved in a -society where I met many fellow countrymen--Captain Foley, of Rooth's -regiment; Lord Roscommon and his brother young Dillon; Lochgarry, -Lieutenant-Colonel of Ogilvie's Corps, among others, and by-and-by -I became known favourably in what, if it was not actually the select -society of Dunkerque, was so at least in the eyes of a very ignorant -young gentleman from the moors of Mearns. - -It was so strange a thing as to be almost incredible, but my Uncle -Andy's shoes seemed to have some magic quality that brought them for -ever on tracks they had taken before, and if my cast of countenance did -not proclaim me a Greig wherever I went, the shoes did so. They were a -passport to the favour of folks the most divergent in social state--to -a poor Swiss who kept the door and attended on the table at Clancarty's -(my uncle, it appeared, had once saved his life), and to Soubise -himself, who counted my uncle the bravest man and the best mimic he had -ever met, and on that consideration alone pledged his influence to find -me a post. - -You may be sure I did not wear such tell-tale shoes too often. I began -to have a freit about them as he had to whom they first belonged, and to -fancy them somehow bound up with my fortune. - -I put them on only when curiosity prompted me to test what new -acquaintances they might make me, and one day I remember I donned them -for a party of blades at Lord Clancarty's, the very day indeed upon -which the poor Swiss, weeping, told me what he owed to the old rogue -with the scarred brow now lying dead in the divots of home. - -There was a new addition to the company that afternoon--a priest who -passed with the name of Father Hamilton, though, as I learned later, he -was formerly Vliegh, a Fleming, born at Ostend, and had been educated -partly at the College Major of Louvain and partly in London. He was -or had been parish priest of Dixmunde near Ostend, and his most -decent memory of my uncle, whom he, too, knew, was a challenge to a -drinking-bout in which the thin man of Meams had been several bottles -more thirsty than the fat priest of Dixmunde. - -He was corpulent beyond belief, with a dewlap like an ox; great limbs, -a Gargantuan appetite, and a laugh like thunder that at its loudest -created such convulsions of his being as compelled him to unbutton the -neck of his _soutane_, else he had died of a seizure. - -His friends at Lord Clancarty's played upon him a little joke wherein I -took an unconscious part. It seemed they had told him Mr. Andrew Greig -was not really dead, but back in France and possessed of an elixir of -youth which could make the ancient and furrowed hills themselves look -like yesterday's creations. - -"What! M. Andrew!" he had cried. "An elixir of grease were more in the -fellow's line; I have never seen a man's viands give so scurvy a return -for the attention he paid them. 'Tis a pole--this M. Andrew--but what a -head--what a head!" - -"Oh! but 'tis true of the elixir," they protested; "and he looks thirty -years younger; here he comes!" - -It was then that I stepped in with the servant bawling my name, and the -priest surged to his feet with his face all quivering. - -"What! M. Andrew!" he cried; "fattened and five-and-twenty. Holy Mother! -It is, then, that miracles are possible? I shall have a hogshead, -master, of thine infernal essence and drink away this paunch, and skip -anon like to the goats of--of-" - -And then his friends burst into peals of laughter as much at my -bewilderment as at his credulity, and he saw that it was all a -pleasantry. - -"Mon Dieu!" he said, sighing like a November forest. "There was never -more pestilent gleek played upon a wretched man. Oh! oh! oh! I had an -angelic dream for that moment of your entrance, for I saw me again a -stripling--a stripling--and the girl's name was--never mind. God rest -her! she is under grass in Louvain." - -All the rest of the day--at Clancarty's, at the Cafe de la Poste, in our -walk along the dunes where cannon were being fired at marks well out at -sea, this obese cleric scarcely let his eyes off me. He seemed to envy -and admire, and then again he would appear to muse upon my countenance, -debating with himself as one who stands at a shop window pondering a -purchase that may be on the verge of his means. - -Captain Thurot observed his interest, and took an occasion to whisper to -me. - -"Have a care, M. Greig," said he playfully; "this priest schemes -something; that's ever the worst of your Jesuits, and you may swear 'tis -not your eternal salvation." - -'Twas that afternoon we went all together to the curious lodging in the -Rue de la Boucherie. I remember as it had been yesterday how sunny -was the weather, and how odd it seemed to me that there should be a -country-woman of my own there. - -She was not, as it seems to me now, lovely, though where her features -failed of perfection it would beat me to disclose, but there was -something inexpressibly fascinating in her--in the mild, kind, melting -eyes, and the faint sad innuendo of her smile. She sat at a spinet -playing, and for the sake of this poor exile, sang some of the songs we -are acquainted with at home. Upon my word, the performance touched me -to the core! I felt sick for home: my mother's state, the girl at -Kirkillstane, the dead lad on the moor, sounds of Earn Water, clouds and -heather on the hill of Ballageich--those mingled matters swept through -my thoughts as I sat with these blithe gentlemen, hearkening to a simple -Doric tune, and my eyes filled irrestrainably with tears. - -Miss Walkinshaw--for so her name was--saw what effect her music had -produced; reddened, ceased her playing, took me to the window while the -others discussed French poetry, and bade me tell her, as we looked out -upon the street, all about myself and of my home. She was, perhaps, ten -years my senior, and I ran on like a child. - -"The Mearns!" said she. "Oh dear, oh dear! And you come frae the Meams!" -She dropped into her Scots that showed her heart was true, and told me -she had often had her May milk in my native parish. - -"And you maybe know," said she, flushing, "the toun of Glasgow, and the -house of Walkinshaw, my--my father, there?" - -I knew the house very well, but no more of it than that it existed. - -It was in her eyes the tears were now, talking of her native place, but -she quickly changed the topic ere I could learn much about her, and -she guessed--with a smile coming through her tears, like a sun through -mist--that I must have been in love and wandered in its fever, to be so -far from home at my age. - -"There was a girl," I said, my face hot, my heart rapping at the -recollection, and someway she knew all about Isobel Fortune in five -minutes, while the others in the room debated on so trivial a thing as -the songs of the troubadours. - -"Isobel Fortune!" she said (and I never thought the name so beautiful -as it sounded on her lips, where it lingered like a sweet); "Isobel -Fortune; why, it's an omen, Master Greig, and it must be a good fortune. -I am wae for the poor lassie that her big foolish lad"--she smiled with -bewitching sympathy at me under long lashes--"should be so far away frae -her side. You must go back as quick as you can; but stay now, is it true -you love her still?" - -The woman would get the feeling and the truth from a heart of stone; I -only sighed for answer. - -"Then you'll go back," said she briskly, "and it will be Earn-side again -and trysts at Ballageich--oh! the name is like a bagpipe air to me!--and -you will be happy, and be married and settle down--and--and poor Clemie -Walkinshaw will be friendless far away from her dear Scotland, but not -forgetting you and your wife." - -"I cannot go back there at all," I said, with a long face, bitter -enough, you may be sure, at the knowledge I had thrown away all that she -depicted, and her countenance fell. - -"What for no'?" she asked softly. - -"Because I fought a duel with the man that Isobel preferred, -and--and--killed him!" - -She shuddered with a little sucking in of air at her teeth and drew up -her shoulders as if chilled with cold. - -"Ah, then," said she, "the best thing's to forget. Are you a Jacobite, -Master Greig?" - -She had set aside my love affair and taken to politics with no more than -a sigh of sympathy, whether for the victim of my jealousy, or Isobel -Fortune, or for me, I could not say. - -"I'm neither one thing nor another," said I. "My father is a staunch -enough royalist, and so, I daresay, I would be too if I had not got a -gliff of bonnie Prince Charlie at the Tontine of Glasgow ten years ago." - -"Ten years ago!" she repeated, staring abstracted out at the window. -"Ten years ago! So it was; I thought it was a lifetime since. And what -did you think of him?" - -Whatever my answer might have been it never got the air, for here -Clancarty, who had had a message come to the door for him, joined us at -the window, and she turned to him with some phrase about the trampling -of troops that passed along the streets. - -"Yes," he said, "the affair marches quickly. Have you heard that England -has declared war? And our counter declaration is already on its way -across. _Pardieu!_ there shall be matters toward in a month or two and -the Fox will squeal. Braddock's affair in America has been the best -thing that has happened us in many years." - -Thus he went on with singular elation that did not escape me, though -my wits were also occupied by some curious calculations as to what -disturbed the minds of Hamilton and of the lady. I felt that I was in -the presence of some machinating influences probably at variance, for -while Clancarty and Roscommon and Thurot were elate, the priest made -only a pretence at it, and was looking all abstracted as if weightier -matters occupied his mind, his large fat hand, heavy-ringed, buttressing -his dewlap, and Miss Walkinshaw was stealing glances of inquiry at -him--glances of inquiry and also of distrust. All this I saw in a mirror -over the mantelpiece of the room. - -"Sure there's but one thing to regret in it," cried Clancarty suddenly, -stopping and turning to me, "it must mean that we lose Monsieur des -Souliers Rouges. _Peste!_ There is always something to worry one about a -war!" - -"_Comment?_" said Thurot. - -"The deportment," answered his lordship. "Every English subject has -been ordered out of France. We are going to lose not only your company, -Father Hamilton, because of your confounded hare-brained scheme for -covering all Europe in a glass coach, but our M. Greig must put the -Sleeve between him and those best qualified to estimate and esteem his -thousand virtues of head and heart For a _louis_ or two I'd take ship -with him and fight on the other side. Gad! it would always be fighting -anyway, and one would be by one's friend." - -The priest's jaw fell as if my going was a blow to his inmost -affections; he turned his face rapidly into shadow; Miss Walkinshaw lost -no movement of his; she was watching him as he had been a snake. - -"Oh! but it is not necessary that we lose my compatriot so fast as -that," she said. "There are such things as permits, excepting English -friends of ours from deportment,--and--and--I fancy I could get one for -Mr. Greig." - -In my heart I thanked her for her ready comprehension of my inability to -go back to Britain with an easy mind; and I bowed my recognition of her -goodness. - -She was paying no heed to my politeness; she had again an eye on the -priest, who was obviously cheered marvellously by the prospect. - -And then we took a dish of tea with her, the lords and Thurot loudly -cheerful, Hamilton ruminant and thundering alternately, Miss Walkinshaw -showing a score of graces as hostess, myself stimulated to some unusual -warmth of spirit as I sat beside her, well-nigh fairly loving her -because she was my country-woman and felt so fond about my native -Mearns. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -WHEREIN A SITUATION OFFERS AND I ENGAGE TO GO TRAVELLING WITH THE PRIEST - -A week passed with no further incident particularly affecting this -history. With my reduced and antique mentor I studied _la belle langue_, -sedulous by day, at night pacing the front of the sea, giving words to -its passion as it broke angry on the bar or thundered on the beach--the -sea that still haunts me and invites, whose absence makes often lonely -the moorland country where is my home, where are my people's graves. It -called me then, in the dripping weather of those nights in France--it -called me temptingly to try again my Shoes of Fortune (as now I named -them to myself), and learn whereto they might lead. - -But in truth I was now a prisoner to that inviting sea. The last English -vessel had gone; the Channel was a moat about my native isle, and I -was a tee'd ball with a passport that was no more and no less than a -warder's warrant in my pouch. It had come to me under cover of Thurot -two days after Miss Walkinshaw's promise; it commanded _tous les -gouverneurs et tous les lieutenants-generaux de nos provinces et de nos -armees, gouverneurs particuliers et commandants de nos villes, places -et troupes_ to permit and pass the Sieur Greig anywhere in the country, -_sans lui donner aucun empechement_, and was signed for the king by the -Duc de Choiseuil. - -I went round to make my devoirs to the lady to whom I owed the favour, -and this time I was alone. - -"Where's your shoon, laddie?" said she at the first go-off. "Losh! do -ye no' ken that they're the very makin' o' ye? If it hadna been for them -Clementina Walkinshaw wad maybe never hae lookit the gait ye were on. -Ye'll be to put them on again!" She thrust forth a _bottine_ like a -doll's for size and trod upon my toes, laughing the while with -her curious suggestion of unpractised merriment at my first solemn -acceptance of her humour as earnest. - -"Am I never to get quit o' thae shoes?" I cried; "the very deil maun be -in them." - -"It was the very deil," said she, "was in them when it was your Uncle -Andrew." And she stopped and sighed. "O Andy Greig, Andy Greig! had I -been a wise woman and ta'en a guid-hearted though throughither Mearns -man's advice--toots! laddie, I micht be a rudas auld wife by my -preachin'. Oh, gie's a sang, or I'll dee." - -And then she flew to the spinet (a handsome instrument singularly out of -keeping with the rest of the plenishing in that odd lodging in the Rue -de la Boucherie of Dunkerque), and touched a prelude and broke into an -air. - -To-day they call that woman lost and wicked; I have seen it said in -books: God's pity on her! she was not bad; she was the very football of -fate, and a heart of the yellow gold. If I was warlock or otherwise had -charms, I would put back the dial two score years and wrench her from -her chains. - - O waly, waly up the bank, - O waly, waly doon the brae. - And waly, waly yon burn-side, - Where I and my love wont to gae. - I leaned my back unto an aik, - I thocht it was a trusty tree, - But first it bowed and syne it brak, - Sae my true love did lichtly me. - -They have their own sorrow even in script those ballad words of an -exile like herself, but to hear Miss Walkinshaw sing them was one of the -saddest things I can recall in a lifetime that has known many sorrows. -And still, though sad, not wanting in a sort of brave defiance of -calumny, a hope, and an unchanging affection. She had a voice as sweet -as a bird in the thicket at home; she had an eye full and melting; her -lips, at the sentiment, sometimes faintly broke. - -I turned my head away that I might not spy upon her feeling, for here, -it was plain, was a tragedy laid bare. She stopped her song mid-way with -a laugh, dashed a hand across her eyes, and threw herself into a chair. - -"Oh, fie! Mr. Greig, to be backing up a daft woman, old enough to know -better, in her vapours. You must be fancying I am a begrutten bairn to -be snackin' my daidlie in this lamentable fashion, but it's just you and -your Mearns, and your Ballageich, and your douce Scots face and tongue -that have fair bewitched me. O Scotland! Scotland! Let us look oot at -this France o' theirs, Mr. Greig." She came to the window (her movements -were ever impetuous, like the flight of a butterfly), and "Do I no' wish -that was the Gallowgate," said she, "and Glasgow merchants were in -the shops and Christian signs abin the doors, like 'MacWhannal' and -'Mackay,' and 'Robin Oliphant'? If that was Bailie John Walkinshaw, wi' -his rattan, and yon was the piazza o' Tontine, would no' his dochter -be the happy woman? Look! look! ye Mearns man, look! look! at the bairn -playing pal-al in the close. 'Tis my little sister Jeanie that's married -on the great Doctor Doig--him wi' the mant i' the Tron kirk--and bairns -o' her ain, I'm tell't, and they'll never hear their Aunt Clemie named -but in a whisper. And yon auld body wi' the mob cap, that's the baxter's -widow, and there's carvie in her scones that you'll can buy for a bawbee -apiece." - -The maddest thing!--but here was the woman smiling through her tears, -and something tremulous in her as though her heart was leaping at her -breast. Suddenly her manner changed, as if she saw a sobering sight, -and I looked out again, and there was Father Hamilton heaving round the -corner of a lane, his face as red as the moon in a fog of frost. - -"Ah!" cried Miss Walkinshaw, "here's France, sure enough, Mr. Greig. We -must put by our sentiments, and be just witty or as witty as we can be. -If you're no' witty here, my poor Mr. Greig, you might as well be dumb. -A heart doesna maitter much; but, oh! be witty." - -The priest was making for the house. She dried her tears before me, a -frankness that flattered my vanity; "and let us noo to our English, Mr. -Greig," said she as the knock came to the door. "It need be nae honest -Scots when France is chappin'. Would you like to travel for a season?" - -The question took me by surprise; it had so little relevance to what had -gone before. - -"Travel?" I repeated. - -"Travel," said she again quickly. "In a glass coach with a companion -who has plenty of money--wherever it comes from--and see all Europe, and -maybe--for you are Scots like myself--make money. The fat priest wants a -secretary; that's the long and the short of it, for there's his foot on -the stairs, and if you'll say yes, I fancy I can get you the situation." - -I did not hesitate a second. - -"Why, then yes, to be sure," said I, "and thank you kindly." - -"Thank _you_, Paul Greig," said she softly, for now the Swiss had opened -the door, and she squeezed my wrist. - -"_Benedicite!_" cried his reverence and came in, puffing hugely after -his climb, his face now purple almost to strangulation. "May the devil -fly away with turnpike stairs, Madame!--puff-puff--I curse them whether -they be wood or marble;--puff-puff--I curse them Dunkerque; in Ostend, -Paris, all Europe itself, ay even unto the two Americas. I curse their -designers, artisans, owners, and defenders in their waking and sleeping! -Madame, kindly consider your stairs anathema!" - -"You need all your wind to cool your porridge, as we say in Scotland, -Father Hamilton," cried Miss Walkinshaw, "and a bonny-like thing it is -to have you coming here blackguarding my honest stairs." - -He laughed enormously and fell into a chair, shaking the house as if the -world itself had quaked. "Pardon, my dear Miss Walkinshaw," said he when -his breath was restored, "but, by the Mass, you must confess 'tis the -deuce and all for a man--a real man that loves his viands, and sleeps -well o' nights, and has a contented mind and grows flesh accordingly, -to trip up to Paradise--" here he bowed, his neck swelling in massive -folds--"to trip up to Paradise, where the angels are, as easily as a -ballet-dancer--bless her!--skips to the other place where, by my faith! -I should like to pay a brief visit myself, if 'twere only to see old -friends of the Opera Comique. Madame, I give you good-day. Sir, Monsieur -Greig--'shalt never be a man like thine Uncle Andrew for all thy -confounded elixir. I favour not your virtuous early rising in the young. -There! thine uncle would a-been abed at this hour an' he were alive and -in Dunkerque; thou must be a confoundedly industrious and sober Greig to -be dangling at a petticoat-tail--Pardon, Madame, 'tis the dearest tail, -anyway!--before the hour meridian." - -"And this is France," thought I. "Here's your papistical gospeller at -home!" I minded of the Rev. Scipio Walker in the kirk of Mearns, an -image ever of austerity, waling his words as they had come from Solomon, -groaning even-on for man's eternal doom. - -The priest quickly comprehended my surprise at his humour, and laughed -the more at that till a fit of coughing choked him. "_Mon Dieu_" said -he; "our Andy reincarnate is an Andy most pestilent dull, or I'm a -cockle, a convoluted cockle, and uncooked at that. Why, man! cheer up, -thou _croque mort_, thou lanthorn-jaw, thou veal-eye, thou melancholious -eater of oaten-meal!" - -"It's a humblin' sicht!" said I. The impertinence was no sooner uttered -than I felt degraded that I should have given it voice, for here was a -priest of God, however odd to my thinking, and, what was more, a man who -might in years have been my father. - -But luckily it could never then, or at any other time, be said of Father -Hamilton that he was thin-skinned. He only laughed the more at me. -"Touche!" he cried. "I knew I could prick the old Andy somewhere. Still, -Master Paul, thine uncle was not so young as thou, my cockerel. Had seen -his world and knew that Scotland and its--what do you call them?--its -manses, did not provide the universal ensample of true piety." - -"I do not think, Father Hamilton," said I, "that piety troubled him very -much, or his shoes had not been so well known in Dunkerque." - -Miss Walkinshaw laughed. - -"There you are, Father Hamilton!" said she. "You'll come little speed -with a man from the Mearns moors unless you take him a little more -seriously." - -Father Hamilton pursed his lips and rubbed down his thighs, an image -of the gross man that would have turned my father's stomach, who always -liked his men lean, clean, and active. He was bantering me, this fat -priest of Dixmunde, but all the time it was with a friendly eye. Thinks -I, here's another legacy of goodwill from my extraordinary uncle! - -"Hast got thy pass yet, Master Dull?" said he. - -"Not so dull, Master Minister, but what I resent the wrong word even in -a joke," I replied, rising to go. - -Thurot's voice was on the stair now, and Clan-carty's. If they were not -to find their _protege_ in an undignified war of words with the priest -of Dixmunde, it was time I was taking my feet from there, as the saying -went. - -But Miss Walkinshaw would not hear of it. "No, no," she protested, "we -have some business before you go to your ridiculous French--weary be on -the language that ever I heard _Je t'aime_ in it!--and how does the same -march with you, Mr. Greig?" - -"I know enough of it to thank my good friends in," said I, "but that -must be for another occasion." - -"Father Hamilton," said she, "here's your secretary." - -A curious flash came to those eyes pitted in rolls of flabby flesh, I -thought of an eagle old and moulting, languid upon a mountain cliff in -misty weather, catching the first glimpse of sun and turned thereby -to ancient memories. He said nothing; there was at the moment no -opportunity, for the visitors had entered, noisily polite and posturing -as was their manner, somewhat touched by wine, I fancied, and for that -reason scarcely welcomed by the mistress of the house. - -There could be no more eloquent evidence of my innocence in these days -than was in the fact that I never wondered at the footing upon which -these noisy men of the world were with a countrywoman of mine. The cause -they often spoke of covered many mysteries; between the Rue de Paris -and the Rue de la Boucherie I could have picked out a score of Scots in -exile for their political faiths, and why should not Miss Walkinshaw be -one of the company? But sometimes there was just the faintest hint of -over-much freedom in their manner to her, and that I liked as little as -she seemed to do, for when her face flushed and her mouth firmed, and -she became studiously deaf, I felt ashamed of my sex, and could have -retorted had not prudence dictated silence as the wisest policy. - -As for her, she was never but the minted metal, ringing true and decent, -compelling order by a glance, gentle yet secure in her own strength, -tolerant, but in bounds. - -They were that day full of the project for invading England. It had -gone so far that soldiers at Calais and Boulogne were being practised in -embarkation. I supposed she must have a certain favour for a step that -was designed to benefit the cause wherefor I judged her an exile, but -she laughed at the idea of Britain falling, as she said, to a parcel of -_crapauds_. "Treason!" treason!" cried Thurot laughingly. - -"Under the circumstances, Madame----" - -"--Under the circumstances, Captain Thurot," she interrupted quickly, -"I need not pretend at a lie. This is not in the Prince's interest, this -invasion, and it is a blow at a land I love. Mr. Greig here has just put -it into my mind how good are the hearts there, how pleasant the tongue, -and how much I love the very name of Scotland. I would be sorry to think -of its end come to pleasure the women in Versailles." - -"Bravo! bravo! _vive la bagatelle!_" cried my Lord Clancarty. "Gad! I -sometimes feel the right old pathriot myself. Sure I have a good mind--" - -"Then 'tis not your own, my lord," she cried quickly, displeasure in her -expression, and Clancarty only bowed, not a whit abashed at the sarcasm. - -Father Hamilton drew me aside from these cheerful contentions, and -plunged into the matter that was manifestly occupying all his thoughts -since Miss Walkinshaw had mooted me as his secretary. - -"Monsieur Greig," he said, placing his great carcase between me and the -others in the room, "I declare that women are the seven plagues, and yet -here we come chasing them from _petit lever_ till--till--well, till as -late as the darlings will let us. By the Mass and Father Hamilton knows -their value, and when a man talks to me about a woman and the love he -bears her, I think 'tis a maniac shouting the praise of the snake that -has crept to his breast to sting him. Women--chut!--now tell me what the -mischief is a woman an' thou canst." - -"I fancy, Father Hamilton," said I, "you could be convinced of the -merits of woman if your heart was ever attacked by one--your heart, that -does not believe anything in that matter that emanates from your head." - -Again the eagle's gleam from the pitted eyes; and, upon my word, a sigh! -It was a queer man this priest of Dixmunde. - -"Ah, young cockerel," said he, "thou knowest nothing at all about it, -and as for me--well, I dare not; but once--once--once there were dews in -the woods, and now it is very dry weather, Master Greig. How about thine -honour's secretaryship? Gripp'st at the opportunity, young fellow? -Eh? Has the lady said sooth? Come now, I like the look of my old -Andrew's--my old Merry Andrew's nephew, and could willingly tolerate -his _croque-mort_ countenance, his odour of the sanctuary, if he could -weather it with a plethoric good liver that takes the world as he finds -it." - -He was positively eager to have me. It was obvious from his voice. He -took me by the button of my lapel as if I were about to run away from -his offer, but I was in no humour to run away. Here was the very office -I should have chosen if a thousand offered. The man was a fatted sow to -look on, and by no means engaging in his manner to myself, but what was -I and what my state that I should be too particular? Here was a chance -to see the world--and to forget. Seeing the world might have been of -most importance some months ago in the mind of a clean-handed young -lad in the parish of Mearns in Scotland, but now it was of vastly more -importance that I should forget. - -"We start in a week," said the priest, pressing me closely lest I should -change my mind, and making the prospects as picturesque as he could. -"Why should a man of flesh and blood vex his good stomach with all this -babblement of king's wars? and a pox on their flat-bottomed boats! -I have seen my last Mass in Dixmunde; say not a word on that to our -friends nor to Madame; and I suffer from a very jaundice of gold. Is't a -pact, friend Scotland?" - -A pact it was; I went out from Miss Walkinshaw's lodging that afternoon -travelling secretary to the fat priest. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -RELATES HOW I INDULGED MY CURIOSITY AND HOW LITTLE CAME OF IT - -Dunkerque in these days (it may be so no longer) was a place for a man -to go through with his nose in his fingers. Garbage stewed and festered -in the gutters of the street so that the women were bound to walk -high-kilted, and the sea-breeze at its briskest scarcely sufficed to -stir the stagnant, stenching atmosphere of the town, now villainously -over-populated by the soldiery with whom it was France's pleasant -delusion she should whelm our isle. - -"_Pardieu!_" cried Father Hamilton, as we emerged in this malodorous -open, "'twere a fairy godfather's deed to clear thee out of this -feculent cloaca. Think on't, boy; of you and me a week hence riding -through the sweet woods of Somme or Oise, and after that Paris! Paris! -my lad of tragedy; Paris, where the world moves and folk live. And then, -perhaps, Tours, and Bordeaux, and Flanders, and Sweden, Seville, St. -Petersburg itself, but at least the woods of Somme, where the roads are -among gossamer and dew and enchantment in the early morning--if we cared -to rise early enough to see them, which I promise thee we shall not." - -His lips were thick and trembling: he gloated as he pictured me this -mad itinerary, leaning heavily on my arm--Silenus on an ash -sapling--half-trotting beside me, looking up every now and then to -satisfy himself I appreciated the prospect. It was pleasant enough, -though in a measure incredible, but at the moment I was thinking of Miss -Walkinshaw, and wondering much to myself that this exposition of foreign -travel should seem barely attractive because it meant a severance from -her. Her sad smile, her brave demeanour, her kind heart, her beauty had -touched me sensibly. - -"Well, Master Scrivener!" cried the priest, panting at my side, "art -dumb?" - -"I fancy, sir, it is scarcely the weather for woods," said I. "I hope we -are not to put off our journey till the first of April a twelvemonth." -A suspicion unworthy of me had flashed into my mind that I might, after -all, be no more than the butt of a practical joke. But that was merely -for a moment; the priest was plainly too eager on his scheme to be -play-acting it. - -"I am very grateful to the lady," I hastened to add, "who gave me the -chance of listing in your service. Had it not been for her you might -have found a better secretary, and I might have remained long enough -in the evil smells of Dunkerque that I'll like all the same in spite of -that, because I have so good a friend as Miss Walkinshaw in it." - -"La! la! la!" cried out Father Hamilton, squeezing my arm. "Here's our -young cockerel trailing wing already! May I never eat fish again if -'tisn't a fever in this woman that she must infect every man under three -score. For me I am within a month of the period immune, and only feel a -malaise in her company. Boy, perpend! Have I not told thee every woman, -except the ugliest, is an agent of the devil? I am the first to -discover that his majesty is married and his wife keeps shop when he -is travelling--among Jesuits and Jacobites and such busy fuel for the -future fires. His wife keeps shop, lad, and does a little business among -her own sex, using the handsomest for her purposes. Satan comes back to -the _boutique_. 'What!' he cries, and counts the till, 'these have been -busy days, good wife.' And she, Madame Dusky, chuckles with a 'Ha! Jack, -old man, hast a good wife or not? Shalt never know how to herd in souls -like sheep till thou hast a quicker eye for what's below a Capuchin -hood.' This--this is a sweet woman, this Walkinshaw, Paul, but a -dangerous. 'Ware hawk, lad, 'ware hawk!" - -I suppose my face reddened at that; at least he looked at me again and -pinched, and "Smitten to the marrow; may I drink water and grow thin -else. _Sacre nom de nom!_ 'tis time thou wert on the highways of -Europe." - -"How does it happen that a countrywoman of mine is here alone?" I asked. - -"I'll be shot if thou art not the rascalliest young innocent in France. -Aye! or out of Scotland," cried Father Hamilton, holding his sides for -laughter. - -"Is thy infernal climate of fogs and rains so pleasant that a woman of -spirit should abide there for ever an' she have the notion to travel -otherwheres? La! la! la! Master Scrivener, and thou must come to an -honest pious priest for news of the world. But, boy, I'm deaf and dumb; -mine eyes on occasion are without vision. Let us say the lady has been -an over-ardent Jacobite; 'twill suffice in the meantime. And now has't -ever set eyes on Charles Edward?" - -I told him I had never had any hand in the Jacobite affairs, if that was -what he meant. - -His countenance fell at that. - -"What!" he cried, losing his Roman manner, "do you tell me you have -never seen him?" - -But once, I explained, when he marched into Glasgow city with his wild -Highlanders and bullied the burgesses into providing shoes for his -ragged army. - -"Ah," said he with a clearing visage, "that will suffice. Must point him -out to me. Dixmunde parish was a poor place for seeing the great; 'tis -why I go wandering now." - -Father Hamilton's hint at politics confirmed my guess about Miss -Walkinshaw, but I suppose I must have been in a craze to speak of her on -any pretence, for later in the day I was at Thurot's lodging, and there -must precognosce again. - -"_Oh, mon Dieu, quelle espieglerie!_" cried out the captain. "And this -a Greig too! Well, I do not wonder that your poor uncle stayed so -long away from home; faith, he'd have died of an _ennui_ else. Miss -Walkinshaw is--Miss Walkinshaw; a countryman of her own should know -better than I all that is to be known about her. But 'tis not our -affair, Mr. Greig. For sure 'tis enough that we find her smiling, -gentle, tolerant, what you call the 'perfect lady'--_n'est ce pas?_And -of all the virtues, upon my word, kindness is the best and rarest, and -that she has to a miracle." - -"I'm thinking that is not a corsair's creed, Captain Thurot," said I, -smiling at the gentleman's eagerness. He was standing over me like a -lighthouse, with his eyes on fire, gesturing with his arms as they had -been windmill sails. - -"No, faith! but 'tis a man's, Master Greig, and I have been happy with -it. Touching our fair friend, I may say that, much as I admire her, I -agree with some others that ours were a luckier cause without her. Gad! -the best thing you could do, Mr. Greig, would be to marry her yourself -and take her back with you to Scotland." - -"What! byway of Paris in Father Hamilton's glass coach," I said, -bantering to conceal my confusion at such a notion. - -"H'm," said he. "Father Hamilton and the lady are a pair." He walked a -little up and down the room as if he were in a quandary. "A pair," he -resumed. "I fancied I could see to the very centre of the Sphinx itself, -for all men are in ourselves if we only knew it, till I came upon -this Scotswoman and this infernal Flemish-English priest of Dix-munde. -Somehow, for them Antoine Thurot has not the key in himself yet. Still, -'twill arrive, 'twill arrive! I like the lady--and yet I wish she were a -thousand miles away; I like the man too, but a Jesuit is too many men -at once to be sure of; and, Gad! I can scarcely sleep at nights for -wondering what he may be plotting. This grand tour of his-" - -"Stop, stop!" I cried, in a fear that he might compromise himself in an -ignorance of my share in the tour in question; "I must tell you that I -am going with Father Hamilton as his secretary, although it bothers me -to know what scrivening is to be accomplished in a glass coach. Like -enough I am to be no more, in truth, than the gentleman's companion or -courier, and it is no matter so long as I am moving." - -"Indeed, and is it so?" cried Captain Thurot, stopping as if he had been -shot. "And how happens it that this priest is willing to take you, that -are wholly a foreigner and a stranger to the country?" - -"Miss Walkinshaw recommended me," said I. - -"Oh!" he cried, "you have not been long of getting into your excellent -countrywoman's kind favour. Is it that Tony Thurot has been doing -the handsome by an ingrate? No, no, Monsieur, that were a monstrous -innuendo, for the honour has been all mine. But that Miss Walkinshaw -should be on such good terms with the priest as to trouble with the -provision of his secretary is opposed to all I had expected of her. Why, -she dislikes the man, or I'm a stuffed fish." - -"Anyhow, she has done a handsome thing by me," said I. "It is no wonder -that so good a heart as hers should smother its repugnances (and the -priest is a fat sow, there is no denying) for the sake of a poor lad -from its own country. You are but making it the plainer that I owe her -more than at first I gave her credit for." - -"Bless me, here's gratitude!" cried the captain, laughing at my warmth. -"Mademoiselle Walkinshaw has her own plans; till now, I fancied them -somewhat different from Hamilton's, but more fool I to fancy they were -what they seemed! All that, my dear lad, need not prevent your enjoying -your grand tour with the priest, who has plenty of money and the -disposition to spend it like a gentleman." - -Finally I went to my Lord Clancarty, for it will be observed that I had -still no hint as to the origin of the lady who was so good a friend of -mine. Though the last thing in the world I should have done was to pry -into her affairs for the indulgence of an idle curiosity, I would know -the best of her before the time came to say farewell, and leave of her -with me no more than a memory. - -The earl was at the Cafe du Soleil d'Or, eating mussels on the terrace -and tossing the empty shells into the gutter what time he ogled passing -women and exchanged levitous repartee with some other frequenters of the -place. - -"Egad, Paul," he cried, meeting me with effusion, "'tis said there is -one pearl to be found for every million mussels; but here's a pearl come -to me in the midst of a single score. An Occasion, lad; I sat at the -dice last night till a preposterous hour this morning, and now I have a -headache like the deuce and a thirst to take the Baltic. I must have -the tiniest drop, and on an Occasion too. _Voila! Gaspard, une autre -bouteille._" - -He had his bottle, that I merely made pretence to help him empty, and I -had my precognition. - -But it came to little in the long run. Oh yes, he understood my interest -in the lady (with rakish winking); 'twas a delicious creature for all -its _hauteur_ when one ventured a gallantry, but somehow no particular -friend to the Earl of Clancarty, who, if she only knew it, was come of -as noble a stock as any rotten Scot ever went unbreeched; not but what -(this with a return of the naturally polite man) there were admirable -and high-bred people of that race, as instance my Uncle Andrew and -myself. But was there any reason why such a man as Charlie Stuart should -be King of Ireland? "I say, Greig, blister the old Chevalier and his two -sons! There is not a greater fumbler on earth than this sotted person, -who has drunk the Cause to degradation and would not stir a hand to -serve me and my likes, that are, begad! the fellow's betters." - -"But all this," said I, "has little to do with Miss Walkinshaw. I have -nothing to say of the Prince, who may be all you say, though that is not -the repute he has in Scotland." - -"Bravo, Mr. Greig!" cried his lordship. "That is the tone if you would -keep in the lady's favour. Heaven knows she has little reason to listen -to praise of such a creature, but, then, women are blind. She loves not -Clancarty, as I have said; but, no matter, I forgive her that; 'tis well -known 'tis because I cannot stomach her prince." - -"And yet," said I, "you must interest yourself in these Jacobite -affairs and mix with all that are here of that party." - -"Faith and I do," he confessed heartily. "What! am I to be a mole and -stay underground? A man must have his diversion, and though I detest the -Prince I love his foolish followers. Do you know what, Mr. Greig? 'Tis -the infernal irony of things in this absurd world that the good fellows, -the bloods, the men of sensibilities must for ever be wrapped up in poor -mad escapades and emprises. And a Clancarty is ever of such a heart that -the more madcap the scheme the more will he dote on it." - -A woman passing in a chair at this moment looked in his direction; -fortunately, otherwise I was condemned to a treatise on life and -pleasure. - -"Egad!" he cried, "there's a face that's like a line of song," and he -smiled at her with unpardonable boldness as it seemed to me, a pleasant -pucker about his eyes, a hint of the good comrade in his mouth. - -She flushed like wine and tried to keep from smiling, but could not -resist, and smiling she was borne away. - -"Do you know her, my lord?" I could not forbear asking. - -"Is it know her?" said he. "Devil a know, but 'tis a woman anyhow, and -a heart at that. Now who the deuce can she be?" And he proceeded, like a -true buck, to fumble with the Mechlin of his fall and dust his stockings -in an airy foppish manner so graceful that I swear no other could have -done the same so well. - -"Now this Miss Walkinshaw--" I went on, determined to have some -satisfaction from my interview. - -"Confound your Miss Walkinshaw, by your leave, Mr. Greig," he -interrupted. "Can you speak of Miss Walkinshaw when the glory of the -comet is still trailing in the heavens? And--hum!--I mind me of a -certain engagement, Mr. Greig," he went on hurriedly, drawing a horologe -from his fob and consulting it with a frowning brow. "In the charm of -your conversation I had nigh forgot, so _adieu, adieu, mon ami!_" - -He gave me the tips of his fingers, and a second later he was gone, -stepping down the street with a touch of the minuet, tapping his legs -with his cane, his sword skewering his coat-skirts, all the world giving -him the cleanest portion of the thoroughfare and looking back after him -with envy and admiration. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -WITNESSES THE LAST OF A BLATE YOUNG MAN - -And all this time it may well be wondered where was my remorse for a -shot fired on the moor of Mearns, for two wretched homes created by my -passion and my folly. And where, in that shifting mind of mine, was the -place of Isobel Fortune, whose brief days of favour for myself (if that, -indeed, was not imagination on my part) had been the cause of these my -wanderings? There is one beside me as I write, ready to make allowance -for youth and ignorance, the untutored affection, the distraught mind, -if not for the dubiety as to her feelings for myself when I was outlawed -for a deed of blood and had taken, as the Highland phrase goes, the -world for my pillow. - -I did not forget the girl of Kirkillstane; many a time in the inward -visions of the night, and of the day too, I saw her go about that -far-off solitary house in the hollow of the hills. Oddly enough, 'twas -ever in sunshine I saw her, with her sun-bonnet swinging from its -ribbons and her hand above her eyes, shading them that she might look -across the fields that lay about her home, or on a tryst of fancy by -the side of Earn, hearing the cushats mourn in a magic harmony with her -melancholy thoughts. As for the killing of young Borland, that I kept, -waking at least, from my thoughts, or if the same intruded, I found it -easier, as time passed, to excuse myself for a fatality that had been in -the experience of nearly every man I now knew--of Clancarty and Thurot, -of the very baker in whose house I lodged and who kneaded the dough for -his little bread not a whit the less cheerily because his hands had been -imbrued. - -The late Earl of Clare, in France called the Marechal Comte de Thomond, -had come to Dunkerque in the quality of Inspector-General of the Armies -of France, to review the troops in garrison and along that menacing -coast. The day after my engagement with Father Hamilton I finished my -French lesson early and went to see his lordship and his army on the -dunes to the east of the town. Cannon thundered, practising at marks far -out in the sea; there was infinite manoeuvring of horse and foot; -the noon was noisy with drums and the turf shook below the hoofs of -galloping chargers. I fancy it was a holiday; at least, as I recall -the thing, Dunkerque was all _en fete_, and a happy and gay populace -gathered in the rear of the marechales flag. Who should be there among -the rest, or rather a little apart from the crowd, but Miss Walkinshaw! -She had come in a chair; her dainty hand beckoned me to her side almost -as soon as I arrived. - -"Now, that's what I must allow is very considerate," said she, eyeing -my red shoes, which were put on that day from some notion of proper -splendour. - -"Well considered?" I repeated. - -"Just well considered," said she. "You know how much it would please me -to see you in your red shoes, and so you must put them on." - -I was young in these days, and, like the ass I was, I quickly set about -disabusing her mind of a misapprehension that injured her nor me. - -"Indeed, Miss Walkinshaw," said I, "how could I do that when I did not -know you were to be here? You are the last I should have expected to see -here." - -"What!" she exclaimed, growing very red. "Does Mr. Greig trouble himself -so much about the _convenances?_ And why should I not be here if I have -the whim? Tell me that, my fastidious compatriot." - -Here was an accountable flurry over a thoughtless phrase! - -"No reason in the world that I know of," said I gawkily, as red as -herself, wondering what it was my foot was in. - -"That you know of," she repeated, as confused as ever. "It seems to -me, Mr. Greig, that the old gentleman who is tutoring you in the French -language would be doing a good turn to throw in a little of the manners -of the same. Let me tell you that I am as much surprised as you can be -to find myself here, and now that you are so good as to put me in mind -of the--of the--of the _convenances_, I will go straight away home. It -was not the priest, nor was it Captain Thurot that got your ear, for -they are by the way of being gentlemen; it could only have been this -Irishman Clancarty--the quality of that country have none of the -scrupulosity that distinguishes our own. You can tell his lordship, next -time you see him, that Miss Walkinshaw will see day about with him for -this." - -She ordered her chairmen to take her home, and then--burst into tears! - -I followed at her side, in a stew at my indiscoverable blundering, my -_chapeau-de-bras_ in my hand, and myself like to greet too for sympathy -and vexation. - -"You must tell me what I have done, Miss Walkinshaw," I said. "Heaven -knows I have few enough friends in this world without losing your good -opinion through an offence of whose nature I am entirely ignorant." - -"Go away!" she said, pushing my fingers from the side of her chair, that -was now being borne towards the town. - -"Indeed, and I shall not, Miss Walkinshaw, asking your pardon for the -freedom," I said, "for here's some monstrous misconception, and I must -clear myself, even at the cost of losing your favour for ever." - -She hid her face in her handkerchief and paid no more heed to -me. Feeling like a mixture of knave and fool, I continued to walk -deliberately by her side all the way into the Rue de la Boucherie. She -dismissed the chair and was for going into the house without letting an -eye light on young persistency. - -"One word, Miss Walkinshaw," I pleaded. "We are a Scottish man and a -Scottish woman, our leelones of all our race at this moment in this -street, and it will be hard-hearted of the Scottish woman if she will -not give her fellow countryman, that has for her a respect and an -affection, a chance to know wherein he may have blundered." - -"Respect and affection," she said, her profile turned to me, her foot on -the steps, visibly hesitating. - -"Respect and affection," I repeated, flushing at my own boldness. - -"In spite of Clancarty's tales of me?" she said, biting her nether lip -and still manifestly close on tears. - -"How?" said I, bewildered. "His lordship gave me no tales that I know -of." - -"And why," said she, "be at such pains to tell me you wondered I should -be there?" - -I got very red at that. - -"You see, you cannot be frank with me, Mr. Greig," she said bitterly. - -"Well, then," I ventured boldly, "what I should have said was that I -feared you would not be there, for it's there I was glad to see you. And -I have only discovered that in my mind since you have been angry with me -and would not let me explain myself." - -"What!" she cried, quite radiant, "and, after all, the red shoon were -not without a purpose? Oh, Mr. Greig, you're unco' blate! And, to tell -you the truth, I was just play-acting yonder myself. I was only making -believe to be angry wi' you, and now that we understand each ither you -can see me to my parlour." - -"Well, Bernard," she said to the Swiss as we entered, "any news?" - -He informed her there was none. - -"What! no one called?" said she with manifest disappointment. - -"_Personne, Madame_." - -"No letters?" - -Nor were there any letters, he replied. - -She sighed, paused irresolute a moment with her foot on the stair, one -hand at her heart, the other at the fastening of her coat, and looked at -me with a face almost tragic in its trouble. I cannot but think she was -on the brink of a confidence, but ere it came she changed her mind and -dashed up the stair with a tra-la-la of a song meant to indicate her -indifference, leaving me a while in her parlour while she changed -her dress. She came back to me in a little, attired in a pale -primrose-coloured paduasoy, the cuffs and throat embroidered in a -pattern of roses and leaves, her hair unpowdered and glossy, wantoning -in and out of a neck beyond description. The first thing she did on -entrance was odd enough, for it was to stand over me where I lounged -on her settee, staring down into my eyes until I felt a monstrous -embarrassment. - -"I am wonderin'," said she, "if ye are the man I tak' ye for." - -Her eyes were moist; I saw she had been crying in her toilet room. - -"I'm just the man you see," I said, "but for some unco' troubles that -are inside me and are not for airing to my friends on a fine day in -Dunkerque." - -"Perhaps, like the lave of folks, ye dinna ken yoursel'," she went on, -speaking with no sprightly humour though in the Scots she was given to -fall to in her moments of fun. "All men, Mr. Greig, mean well, but most -of them fall short of their own ideals; they're like the women in that, -no doubt, but in the men the consequence is more disastrous." - -"When I was a girl in a place you know," she went on even more soberly, -"I fancied all men were on the model of honest John Walkinshaw--better -within than without. He was stern to austerity, demanding the last -particle of duty from his children, and to some he might seem hard, but -I have never met the man yet with a kinder heart, a pleasanter mind, a -more pious disposition than John Walkin-shaw's. It has taken ten years, -and acquaintance with some gentry not of Scotland, to make it plain that -all men are not on his model." - -"I could fancy not, to judge from his daughter," I said, blushing at my -first compliment that was none the less bold because it was sincere. - -At that she put on a little mouth and shrugged her shoulders with a -shiver that made the snaps in her ears tremble. - -"My good young man," said she, "there you go! If there's to be any -friendship between you and Clementina Walkinshaw, understand there must -be a different key from that. You are not only learning your French, but -you are learning, it would seem, the manners of the nation. It was that -made me wonder if you could be the man I took you for the first day you -were in this room and I found I could make you greet with a Scots sang, -and tell me honestly about a lass you had a notion of and her no' me. -That last's the great stroke of honesty in any man, and let me tell you -there are some women who would not relish it. But you are in a company -here so ready with the tongue of flattery that I doubt each word they -utter, and that's droll enough in me that loves my fellow creatures, and -used to think the very best of every one of them. If I doubt them now -I doubt them with a sore enough heart, I'll warrant you. Oh! am I not -sorry that my man of Mearns should be put in the reverence of such -creatures as Clancarty and Thurot, and all that gang of worldlings? I do -not suppose I could make you understand it, Mr. Paul Greig, but I feel -motherly to you, and to see my son--this great giant fellow who kens the -town of Glasgow and dwelt in Mearns where I had May milk, and speaks wi' -the fine Scots tongue like mysel' when his heart is true--to see him the -boon comrade with folks perhaps good enough for Clementina Walkinshaw -but lacking a particle of principle, is a sight to sorrow me." - -"And is it for that you seek to get me away with the priest?" I asked, -surprised at all this, and a little resenting the suggestion of youth -implied in her feeling like a mother to me. Her face was lit, her -movement free and beautiful; something in her fascinated me. - -She dropped in a chair and pushed the hair from her ears with a hand -like milk, and laughed. - -"Now how could you guess?" said she. "Am I no' the careful mother of -you to put you in the hands o' the clergy? I doubt this play-acting -rhetorician of a man from Dixmunde is no great improvement on the rest -of your company when all's said and done, but you'll be none the worse -for seeing the world at his costs, and being in other company than -Clancarty's and Thurot's and Roscommon's. He told me to-day you were -going with him, and I was glad that I had been of that little service to -you." - -"Then it seems you think so little of my company as to be willing enough -to be rid of me at the earliest opportunity," I said, honestly somewhat -piqued at her readiness to clear me out of Dunkerque. - -She looked at me oddly. "Havers, Mr. Greig!" said she, "just havers!" - -I was thanking her for her offices, but she checked me. "You are well -off," she said, "to be away from here while these foolish manouvrings -are on foot. Poor me! I must bide and see them plan the breaking down -of my native country. It's a mercy I know in what a fiasco it will end, -this planning. Hearken! Do you hear the bugles? That's Soubise going -back to the caserne. He and his little men are going back to eat another -dinner destined to assist in the destruction of an island where you and -I should be this day if we were wiser than we are. Fancy them destroying -Britain, Mr. Greig!--Britain, where honest John Walkinshaw is, that -never said an ill word in his life, nor owed any man a penny: where the -folks are guid and true, and fear God and want nothing but to be left to -their crofts and herds. If it was England--if it was the palace of Saint -James--no, but it's Scotland, too, and the men you saw marching up and -down to-day are to be marching over the moor o' Mearns when the -heather's red. Can you think of it?" She stamped her foot. "Where the -wee thack hooses are at the foot o' the braes, and the bairns playing -under the rowan trees; where the peat is smelling, and the burns are -singing in the glens, and the kirk-bells are ringing. Poor Mr. Greig! -Are ye no' wae for Scotland? Do ye think Providence will let a man like -Thomond ye saw to-day cursing on horseback--do ye think Providence will -let him lead a French army among the roads you and I ken so well, -affronting the people we ken too, who may be a thought dull in the -matter of repartee, but are for ever decent, who may be hard-visaged, -but are so brave?" - -She laughed, herself, half bitterly, half contemptuously, at the picture -she drew. Outside, in the sunny air of the afternoon, the bugles of -Soubise filled the street with brazen cries, and nearer came the roar -of pounding drums. I thought I heard them menacing the sleep of evening -valleys far away, shattering the calm of the hearth of Hazel Den. - -"The cause for which--for which so many are exile here," I said, looking -on this Jacobite so strangely inconsistent, "has no reason to regret -that France should plan an attack on Georgius Rex." - -She shook her head impatiently. "The cause has nothing to do with it, -Mr. Greig," said she. "The cause will suffer from this madness more than -ever it did, but in any case 'tis the most miserable of lost causes." - -"Prince Charlie-" - -"Once it was the cause with me, now I would sooner have it Scotland," -she went on, heedless of my interruption. "Scotland! Scotland! Oh, how -the name of her is like a dirge to me, and my heart is sore for her! -Where is your heart, Mr. Greig, that it does not feel alarm at the -prospect of these _crapauds_ making a single night's sleep uneasy for -the folks you know? Where is your heart, I'm asking?" - -"I wish I knew," said I impulsively, staring at her, completely -bewitched by her manner so variable and intense, and the straying -tendrils of her hair. - -"Do you not?" said she. "Then I will tell you. It is where it ought to -be--with a girl of the name of Isobel Fortune. Oh, the dear name! oh, -the sweet name! And when you are on your travels with this priest do not -be forgetting her. Oh, yes! I know you will tell me again that all is -over between the pair of you, and that she loved another--but I am not -believing a word of that, Mr. Greig, when I look at you--(and will ye -say 'thank ye' for the compliment that's there?)--you will just go on -thinking her the same, and you will be the better man for it. There's -something tells me she is thinking of you though I never saw her, the -dear! Let me see, this is what sort of girl she will be." - -She drew her chair closer to the settee and leaned forward in front -of me, and, fixing her eyes on mine, drew a picture of the girl of -Kirkillstane as she imagined her. - -"She will be about my own height, and with the same colour of hair-" - -"How do you know that? I never said a word of that to you," I cried, -astonished at the nearness of her first guess. - -"Oh, I'm a witch," she cried triumphantly, "a fair witch. Hoots! do I -no' ken ye wadna hae looked the side o' the street I was on if I -hadna put ye in mind o' her? Well, she's my height and colour--but, -alack-a-day, no' my years. She 'll have a voice like the mavis for -sweetness, and 'll sing to perfection. She'll be shy and forward in -turns, accordin' as you are forward and shy; she 'll can break your -heart in ten minutes wi' a pout o' her lips or mak' ye fair dizzy with -delight at a smile. And then"--here Miss Walkinshaw seemed carried away -herself by her fancy portrait, for she bent her brows studiously as she -thought, and seemed to speak in an abstraction--"and then she'll be a -managing woman. She'll be the sort of woman that the Bible tells of -whose value is over rubies; knowing your needs as you battle with the -world, and cheerful when you come in to the hearthstone from the turmoil -outside. A witty woman and a judge of things, calm but full of fire in -your interests. A household where the wife's a doll is a cart with one -wheel, and your Isobel will be the perfect woman. I think she must have -travelled some, too, and seen how poor is the wide world compared with -what is to be found at your own fire-end; I think she must have had -trials and learned to be brave." - -She stopped suddenly, looked at me and got very red in the face. - -"A fine picture, Miss Walkinshaw!" said I, with something drumming at my -heart. "It is not just altogether like Isobel Fortune, who has long syne -forgot but to detest me, but I fancy I know who it is like." - -"And who might that be?" she asked in a low voice and with a somewhat -guilty look. - -"Will I tell you?" I asked, myself alarmed at my boldness. - -"No! no! never mind," she cried. "I was just making a picture of a -girl I once knew--poor lass! and of what she might have been. But she's -dead--dead and buried. I hope, after all, your Isobel is a nobler woman -than the one I was thinking on and a happier destiny awaiting her." - -"That cannot matter much to me now," I said, "for, as I told you, there -is nothing any more between us--except--except a corp upon the heather." - -She shuddered as she did the first time I told her of my tragedy, and -sucked in the air again through her clenched teeth. - -"Poor lad! poor lad!" said she. "And you have quite lost her. If so, and -the thing must be, then this glass coach of Father Hamilton's must take -you to the country of forgetfulness. I wish I could drive there myself -this minute, but wae's me, there's no chariot at the _remise_ that'll do -that business for John Walkinshaw's girl." - -Something inexpressively moving was in her mien, all her heart was in -her face as it seemed; a flash of fancy came to me that she was alone in -the world with nothing of affection to hap her round from its abrasions, -and that her soul was crying out for love. Sweet beyond expression was -this woman and I was young; up to my feet I rose, and turned on her a -face that must have plainly revealed my boyish passion. - -"Miss Walkinshaw," I said, "you may put me out of this door for ever, -but I'm bound to say I'm going travelling in no glass coach; Dunkerque -will be doing very well for me." - -Her lips trembled; her cheek turned pale; she placed a hand upon her -breast, and there was I contrite before her anger! - -"Is this--is this your respect and your esteem, Mr. Greig?" she asked -brokenly. - -"They were never greater than at this moment," I replied. - -"And how are they to be manifested by your waiting on in Dunkerque?" she -asked, recovering her colour and some of her ordinary manner. - -How indeed? She had no need to ask me the question, for it was already -ringing through my being. That the Spoiled Horn from Mearns, an outlaw -with blood on his hands and borrowed money in his pocket, should have -the presumption to feel any ardour for this creature seemed preposterous -to myself, and I flushed in an excess of shame and confusion. - -This seemed completely to reassure her. "Oh, Mr. Greig--Mr. Greig, was I -not right to ask if ye were the man ye seemed? Here's a nice display o' -gallantry from my giant son! I believe you are just makin' fun o' this -auld wife; and if no' I hae just one word for you, Paul Greig, and it's -this that I said afore--jist havers!" - -She went to her spinet and ran her fingers over the keys and broke into -a song-- - - Oh, what ails the laddie, new twined frae his mither? - The laddie gallantin' roun' Tibbie and me?-- - -with glances coquettish yet repelling round her shoulder at me as I -stood turning my _chapeau-de-bras_ in my hand as a boy turns his bonnet -in presence of laird or dominie. The street was shaking now with the -sound of marching soldiers, whose platoons were passing in a momentary -silence of trumpet or drum. All at once the trumpets blared forth -just in front of the house, broke upon her song, and gave a heavensent -diversion to our comedy or tragedy or whatever it was in the parlour. - -We both stood looking out at the window for a while in silence, watching -the passing troops, and when the last file had gone, she turned with a -change of topic "If these men had been in England ten years ago," she -said, "when brisk affairs were doing there with Highland claymores, your -Uncle Andrew would have been there, too, and it would not perhaps be -your father who was Laird of Hazel Den. But that's all by with now. And -when do you set out with Father Hamilton?" - -She had a face as serene as fate; my heart ached to tell her that I -loved her, but her manner made me hold my tongue on that. - -"In three days," I said, still turning my hat and wishing myself -elsewhere, though her presence intoxicated. - -"In three days!" she said, as one astonished. "I had thought it had been -a week at the earliest. Will I tell you what you might do? You are my -great blate bold son, you know, from the moors of Mearns, and I will be -wae, wae, to think of you travelling all round Europe without a friend -of your own country to exchange a word with. Write to me; will you?" - -"Indeed and I will, and that gaily," I cried, delighted at the prospect. - -"And you will tell me all your exploits and where you have been and what -you have seen, and where you are going and what you are going to do, and -be sure there will be one Scots heart thinking of you (besides Isobel, -I daresay), and I declare to you this one will follow every league upon -the map, saying 'the blate lad's there to-day,' 'the blate lad's to be -here at noon to-morrow.' Is it a bargain? Because you know I will write -to you--but oh! I forgot; what of the priest? Not for worlds would I -have him know that I kept up a correspondence with his secretary. That -is bad." - -She gazed rather expectantly at me as if looking for a suggestion, but -the problem was beyond me, and she sighed. - -"Of course his reverence need not know anything about it," she said -then. - -"Certainly," I acquiesced, jumping at so obvious a solution. "I will -never mention to him anything about it." - -"But how will I get your letters and how will you get mine without his -suspecting something?" - -"Oh, but he cannot suspect." - -"What, and he a priest, too! It's his trade, Mr. Greig, and this Father -Hamilton would spoil all if he knew we were indulging ourselves so -innocently. What you must do is to send your letters to me in a way that -I shall think of before you leave and I shall answer in the same way. -But never a word, remember, to his reverence; I depend on your honour -for that." - -As I was going down the stair a little later, she leaned over the -bannister and cried after me: - -"Mr. Greig," said she, "ye needna' be sae hainin' wi' your red shoes -when ye're traivellin' in the coach. I would be greatly pleased to be -thinkin' of you as traivellin' in them a' the time." - -I looked up and saw her smiling saucily at me over the rail. - -"Would you indeed?" said I. "Then I'll never put them aff till I see ye -again, when I come back to Dunkerque." - -"That is kind," she answered, laughing outright, "but fair reediculous. -To wear them to bed would be against your character for sobriety." - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -A RAP IN THE EARLY MORNING AWAKENS ME AND I START IN A GLASS COACH UPON -THE ODDEST OF JOURNEYS - -It was the last, for many months, I was to see of my countrywoman. -Before the crow of the cock next morning I was on the unending roads, -trundling in a noisy vehicle through pitch darkness, my companion -snoring stertorous at my side, his huge head falling every now and then -upon my shoulder, myself peering to catch some revelation of what manner -of country-side we went through as the light from the swinging lanthorn -lit up briefly passing banks of frosted hedge or sleeping hamlets on -whose pave the hoofs of our horses hammered as they had been the very -war-steeds of Bellona. - -But how came I there? How but by my master's whim, that made him -anticipate his departure by three days and drag me from my bed -incontinent to set out upon his trip over Europe. - -I had been sleeping soundly, dreaming I heard the hopper of the mill -of Driepps at home banging to make Jock Alexander's fortune, when I -awakened, or rather half-wakened, to discover that 'twas no hopper but a -nieve at my door, rapping with a vigour to waken the dead. - -"Come out! Sir Secretary, come out! or I shall pull thy domicile about -thine ears," cried the voice of Father Hamilton. - -He stood at the door when I opened, wrapped over the chin in a muffler -of multitudinous folds, and covered by a roquelaure. - -"_Pax!_" he cried, thrusting a purple face into the room, "and on with -thy boots like a good lad. We must be off and over the dunes before the -bell of St. Eloi knocks another nail in the coffin of time." - -"What!" I said, dumbfoundered, "are we to start on our journey to-day?" - -"Even so, my sluggardly Scot; faith! before the day even, for the day -will be in a deuce of a hurry an' it catch up on us before we reach -Pont-Opoise. Sop a crust in a jug of wine--I've had no better _petit -dejeuner_ myself--put a clean cravat and a pair of hose in thy sack, -and in all emulate the judicious flea that wastes no time in idle -rumination, but transacts its affairs in a succession of leaps." - -"And no time to say good-bye to anyone?" I asked, struggling into my -toilet. - -"La! la! la! the flea never takes a _conge_ that I've heard on, Master -Punctilio. Not so much as a kiss o' the hand for you; I have had news, -and 'tis now or never." - -Twenty minutes later, Thurot's landlord (for Thurot himself was from -home) lit me to the courtyard, and the priest bundled me and my sack -into the bowels of an enormous chariot waiting there. - -The clocks began to strike the hour of five; before the last stroke had -ceased to shiver the darkness we were thundering along the sea front -and my master was already composed to sleep in his corner, without -vouchsafing me a sentence of explanation for so hurried a departure. -Be sure my heart was sore! I felt the blackest of ingrates to be thus -speeding without a sign of farewell from a place where I had met with so -much of friendship. - -Out at the window of the coach I gazed, to see nothing but the cavernous -night on one side, on the other, lit by the lanthorn, the flashing past -of houses all shuttered and asleep. - -It was dry and pleasant weather, with a sting of frost in the air, and -the propinquity of the sea manifest not in its plangent voice alone but -in the odour of it that at that hour dominated the natural smells of the -faubourgs. Only one glimpse I had of fellow creatures; as we passed the -fort, the flare of flambeaux showed an enormous body of soldiers -working upon the walls of Risebank; it but added to the poignance of my -melancholy to reflect that here were my country's enemies unsleeping, -and I made a sharp mental contrast of this most dauntening spectacle -with a picture of the house of Hazel Den dreaming among its trees, and -only crying lambs perhaps upon the moor to indicate that any life -was there. Melancholy! oh, it was eerie beyond expression for me that -morning! Outside, the driver talked to his horses and to some one with -him on the boot; it must have been cheerier for him than for me as I sat -in that sombre and close interior, jolted by my neighbour, and unable to -refrain from rehabilitating all the past. Especially did I think of my -dark home-coming with a silent father on the day I left the college to -go back to the Mearns. And by a natural correlation, that was bound -to lead to all that followed--even to the event for which I was now so -miserably remote from my people. - -Once or twice his reverence woke, to thrust his head out at the window -and ask where we were. Wherever we were when he did so, *twas certain -never to be far enough for his fancy, and he condemned the driver for -a snail until the whip cracked wickedly and the horses laboured more -strenuously than ever, so that our vehicle swung upon its springs till -it might well seem we were upon a ship at sea. - -For me he had but the one comment--"I wonder what's for _dejeuner._" He -said it each time solemnly as it were his matins, and then slid into his -swinish sleep again. - -The night seemed interminable, but by-and-by the day broke. I watched -it with eagerness as it gradually paled the east, and broke up the black -bulk of the surrounding land into fields, orchards, gardens, woods. And -the birds awoke--God bless the little birds!--they woke, and started -twittering and singing in the haze, surely the sweetest, the least -sinless of created things, the tiny angels of the woods, from whom, -walking in summer fields in the mornings of my age as of my youth, I -have borrowed hope and cheer. - -Father Hamilton wakened too, and heard the birds; indeed, they filled -the ear of the dawn with melodies. A smile singularly pleasant came upon -his countenance as he listened. - -"_Pardieu!_" said he, "how they go on! Has't the woodland soul, _Sieur -Croque-mort_? Likely enough not; I never knew another but myself and -thine uncle that had it, and 'tis the mischief that words will not -explain the same. 'Tis a gift of the fairies"--here he crossed himself -devoutly and mumbled a Romish incantation--"that, having the -said woodland spirit--in its nature a Pagan thing perchance, but -_n'importe!_--thou hast in the song of the tiny beings choiring there -something to make the inward tremor that others find in a fiddle and -a glass of wine. No! no! not that, 'tis a million times more precious; -'tis--'tis the pang of the devotee, 'tis the ultimate thrill of things. -Myself, I could expire upon the ecstasy of the thrush, or climb to -heaven upon the lark's May rapture. And there they go! the loves! and -they have the same ditty I heard from them first in Louvain. There are -but three clean things in this world, my lad of Scotland--a bird, a -flower, and a child's laughter. I have been confessor long enough -to know all else is filth. But what's the luck in waiting for us at -Azincourt? and what's the _pot-au-feu_ to-day?" - -He listened a little longer to the birds, and fell asleep smiling, his -fat face for once not amiss, and I was left again alone as it were to -receive the day. - -We had long left the dunes and the side of the sea, though sometimes on -puffs of wind I heard its distant rumour. Now the land was wooded with -the apple tree; we rose high on the side of a glen, full of a rolling -fog that streamed off as the day grew. A tolerable land enough; perhaps -more lush than my own, with scarce a rood uncultivated, and dotted -far and wide by the strangest farm steadings and pendicles, but such -steadings and pendicles as these eyes never before beheld, with enormous -eaves of thatch reaching almost to the ground, and ridiculous windows of -no shape; with the yokings of the cattle, the boynes, stoups, carts, and -ploughs about the places altogether different from our own. We passed -troops marching, peasants slouching with baskets of poultry to market -towns, now and then a horseman, now and then a caleche. And there were -numerous hamlets, and at least two middling-sized towns, and finally -we came, at the hour of eleven, upon the place appointed for our -_dejeuner_. It was a small inn on the banks of the only rivulet I had -seen in all the journey. I forget its name, but I remember there was -a patch of heather on the side of it, and that I wished ardently the -season had been autumn that I might have looked upon the purple bells. - -"Tis a long lane that has no tavern," said his reverence, and oozed -out of his side of the coach with groanings. The innkeeper ran forth, -louted, and kissed his hand. - -"_Jour, m'sieu jour!_" said Father Hamilton hurriedly. "And now, what -have you here that is worth while?" - -The innkeeper respectfully intimated that the church of -Saint-Jean-en-Greve was generally considered worth notice. Its -vestments, relics, and windows were of merit, and the view from the -tower-- - -"_Mort de ma vie!_" cried the priest angrily, "do I look like a -traveller who trots up belfrys in strange villages at the hour of -_dejeuner?_ A plague on Saint-Jean-en-Greve! I said nothing at all of -churches; I spoke of _dejeuner_, my good fellow. What's for _dejeuner?_" - -The innkeeper recounted a series of dishes. Father Hamilton hummed and -hawed, reflected, condemned, approved, all with an eagerness beyond -description. And when the meal was being dished up, he went frantically -to the kitchen and lifted pot-lids, and swung a salad for himself, and -confounding the ordinary wine for the vilest piquette ordered a special -variety from the cellar. It was a spectacle of gourmandise not without -its humour; I was so vastly engaged in watching him that I scarce -glanced at the men who had travelled on the outside of the coach since -morning. - -What was my amazement when I did so to see that the servant or valet (as -he turned out to be) was no other than the Swiss, Bernard, who had been -in the service of Miss Walkinshaw no later than yesterday morning! - -I commented on the fact to Father Hamilton when we sat down to eat. - -"Why, yes!" he said, gobbling at his vivers with a voracity I learned -not to wonder at later when I knew him more. "The same man. A good man, -too, or I'm a Turk. I've envied Miss Walkinshaw this lusty, trusty, -secret rogue for a good twelvemonth, and just on the eve of my leaving -Dunkerque, by a very providence, the fellow gets drunk and finds himself -dismissed. He came to me with a flush and a hiccough last night to ask -a recommendation, and overlooking the peccadillo that is not of a nature -confined to servants, Master Greig, let me tell thee, I gave him a place -in my _entourage_. Madame will not like it, but no matter! she'll have -time to forget it ere I see her again." - -I felt a mild satisfaction to have the Swiss with us just because I had -heard him called "Bernard" so often by his late employer. - -We rested for some hours after _dejeuner_, seated under a tree by the -brink of the rivulet, and in the good humour of a man satisfied in -nature the priest condescended to let me into some of his plans. - -We were bound for Paris in the first place. "Zounds!" he cried, "I am -all impatience to clap eyes again on Lutetia, the sweet rogue, and -eat decent bread and behold a noble gown and hear a right cadenza. -And though thou hast lost thy Lyrnessides--la! la! la! I have thee -there!--thou canst console thyself with the Haemonian lyre. Paris! oh, -lad, I'd give all to have thy years and a winter or two in it. Still, we -shall make shift--oh, yes! I warrant thee we shall make shift. We shall -be there, at my closest reckoning, on the second day of Holy Week, and -my health being so poorly we shall not wait to commence _de faire les -Paques_ an hour after. What's in a _soutane_, anyhow, that it should be -permitted to mortify an honest priest's oesophagus?" - -I sighed in spite of myself, for he had made me think of our throwing of -Easter eggs on the green at Hazel Den. - -"What!" he cried. "Does my frugal Scot fancy we have not enough -trinkgeld for enjoyment. Why, look here!--and here!--and here!" - -He thrust his hand into his bosom and drew forth numerous rouleaux--so -many that I thought his corpulence might well be a plethora of coin. - -"There!" said he, squeezing a rouleau till it burst and spreading out -the gold upon the table before him. "Am I a poor parish priest or a very -Croesus?" - -Then he scooped in the coins with his fat hands and returned all to his -bosom. "_Allons!_" he said shortly; we were on the road again! - -That night we put up at the Bon Accueil in a town whose name escapes my -recollection. - -He had gone to bed; through the wall from his chamber came the noise -of his sleep, while I was at the writing of my first letter to Miss -Walkinshaw, making the same as free and almost affectionate as I had -been her lover, for as I know it now, I was but seeking in her for the -face of the love of the first woman and the last my heart was given to. - -I had scarcely concluded when the Swiss came knocking softly to my door, -and handed me a letter from the very woman whose name was still in wet -ink upon my folded page. I tore it open eagerly, to find a score of -pleasant remembrances. She had learned the night before that the priest -was to set out in the morning: "I have kept my word," she went on. "Your -best friend is Bernard, so I let you have him, and let us exchange our -billets through him. It will be the most Discreet method. And I am, with -every consideration, Ye Ken Wha." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -LEADS ME TO THE FRONT OF A COFFEE-HOUSE WHERE I AM STARTLED TO SEE A -FACE I KNOW - -The occasion for this precaution in our correspondence was beyond my -comprehension; nevertheless I was too proud to have the patronage of so -fine a woman to cavil at what system she should devise for its discreet -conduct, and the Swiss that night got my first letter to frank and -despatch. He got one next evening also, and the evening after that; in -short, I made a diurnal of each stage in our journey and Bernard was my -postman--so to name it--on every occasion that I forwarded the same to -Miss Walkinshaw. He assured me that he was in circumstances to secure -the more prompt forwardation of my epistles than if I trusted in the -common runner, and it was a proof of this that when we got, after some -days, into Versailles, he should bring to me a letter from the lady -herself informing me how much of pleasure she had got from the receipt -of the first communication I had sent her. - -Perhaps it is a sign of the injudicious mind that I should not be very -mightily pleased with this same Versailles. We had come into it of a -sunny afternoon and quartered at the Cerf d'Or Inn, and went out in the -evening for the air. Somehow the place gave me an antagonism; its dipt -trees all in rows upon the wayside like a guard of soldiers; its trim -gardens and bits of plots; its fountains crying, as it seemed, for -attention--these things hurt me as a liberty taken with nature. Here, -thought I, is the fitting place for the raff in ruffles and the scented -wanton; it should be the artificial man and the insincere woman should -be condemned to walk for ever in these alleys and drink in these -_bosquets;_ I would not give a fir planting black against the evening -sky at home for all this pompous play-acting at landscape, nor a yard -of the brown heather of the hills for all these well-drilled flower -parterres. - -"Eh! M. Croque-mort," said the priest, delighted visibly with all he saw -about him; "what think'st thou of Le Notre's gardening?" - -"A good deal, sir," I said, "that need never be mentioned. I feel a pity -for the poor trees as I did for yon dipt poodle dog at Griepon." - -"La! la! la! _sots raissonable_, Monsieur," cried the priest. "We cannot -have the tastes of our Dubarrys and Pompadours and Maintenons so called -in question by an untravelled Scot that knows but the rude mountain and -stunted oaks dying in a murrain of climate. 'Art too ingenuous, youth. -And yet--and yet"--here he paused and tapped his temple and smiled -whimsically--"between ourselves, I prefer the woods of Somme where the -birds sang together so jocund t'other day. But there now--ah, _quelle -gloire!_" - -We had come upon the front of the palace, and its huge far-reaching -masonry, that I learned later to regard as cold, formal, and wanting in -a soul, vastly discomposed me. I do not know why it should be so, but -as I gazed at this--the greatest palace I had ever beheld--I felt tears -rush irrestrainably to my eyes. Maybe it was the poor little poet in -MacGibbon's law chamber in Lanark town that used to tenant every ancient -dwelling with spirits of the past, cropped up for the moment in Father -Hamilton's secretary, and made me, in a flash, people the place with -kings--and realise something of the wrench it must have been and still -would be to each and all of them to say adieu at the long last to this -place of noisy grandeur where they had had their time of gaiety and -splendour. Anyhow, I well-nigh wept, and the priest was quick to see it. - -"Fore God!" he cried, "here's Andrew Greig again! 'Twas the wickedest -rogue ever threw dice, and yet the man must rain at the eyes like a very -woman." - -And yet he was pleased, I thought, to see me touched. A band was playing -somewhere in a garden unseen; he tapped time to its music with his -finger tips against each other and smiled beatifically and hummed. He -seemed at peace with the world and himself at that moment, yet a second -later he was the picture of distress and apprehension. - -We were going towards the Place d'Armes; he had, as was customary, his -arm through mine, leaning on me more than was comfortable, for he was -the poorest judge imaginable of his own corpulence. Of a sudden I felt -him jolt as if he had been startled, and then he gripped my arm with -a nervous grasp. All that was to account for his perturbation was that -among the few pedestrians passing us on the road was one in a uniform -who cast a rapid glance at us. It was not wonderful that he should do -so, for indeed we were a singularly ill-assorted pair, but there was a -recognition of the priest in the glance the man in the uniform threw -at him in passing. Nothing was said; the man went on his way and we on -ours, but looking at Father Hamilton I saw his face had lost its colour -and grown blotched in patches. His hand trembled; for the rest of the -walk he was silent, and he could not too soon hurry us back to the Cerf -d'Or. - -Next day was Sunday, and Father Hamilton went to Mass leaving me to my -own affairs, that were not of that complexion perhaps most becoming -on that day to a lad from Scotland. He came back anon and dressed most -scrupulously in a suit of lay clothing. - -"Come out, Master Greig," said he, "and use thine eyes for a poor -priest that has ruined his own in studying the Fathers and seeking for -honesty." - -"It is not in the nature of a compliment to myself, that," I said, a -little tired of his sour sentiments regarding humanity, and not afraid -in the least to tell him so. - -"Eh!" said he. "I spoke not of thee, thou savage. A plague on thy curt -temper; 'twas ever the weakness of the Greigs. Come, and I shall show -thee a house where thy uncle and I had many a game of dominoes." - -We went to a coffee-house and watched the fashionable world go by. It -was a sight monstrously fine. Because it was the Easter Sunday the women -had on their gayest apparel, the men their most belaced _jabots_. - -"Now look you well, Friend Scotland," said Father Hamilton, as we sat -at a little table and watched the stream of quality pass, "look you well -and watch particularly every gentleman that passes to the right, and -when you see one you know tell me quickly." - -He had dropped his Roman manner as if in too sober a mood to act. - -"Is it a game?" I asked. "Who can I ken in the town of Versailles that -never saw me here before?" - -"Never mind," said he, "do as I tell you. A sharp eye, and-" - -"Why," I cried, "there's a man I have seen before!" - -"Where? where?" said Father Hamilton, with the utmost interest lighting -his countenance. - -"Yonder, to the left of the man with the velvet breeches. He will pass -us in a minute or two." - -The person I meant would have been kenspeckle in any company by -the splendour of his clothing, but beyond his clothing there was -a haughtiness in his carriage that singled him out even among the -fashionables of Versailles, who were themselves obviously interested in -his personality, to judge by the looks that they gave him as closely -as breeding permitted. He came sauntering along the pavement swinging -a cane by its tassel, his chin in the air, his eyes anywhere but on the -crowds that parted to give him room. As he came closer I saw it was a -handsome face enough that thus was cocked in haughtiness to the heavens, -not unlike Clancarty's in that it showed the same signs of dissipation, -yet with more of native nobility in it than was in the good enough -countenance of the French-Irish nobleman. Where had I seen that face -before? - -It must have been in Scotland; it must have been when I was a boy; it -was never in the Mearns. This was a hat with a Dettingen cock; when I -saw that forehead last it was under a Highland bonnet. - -A Highland bonnet--why! yes, and five thousand Highland bonnets were in -its company--whom had I here but Prince Charles Edward! - -The recognition set my heart dirling in my breast, for there was -enough of the rebel in me to feel a romantic glow at seeing him who set -Scotland in a blaze, and was now the stuff of songs our women sang -in milking folds among the hills; that heads had fallen for, and the -Hebrides had been searched for in vain for weary seasons. The man was -never a hero of mine so long as I had the cooling influence of my father -to tell me how lamentable for Scotland had been his success had God -permitted the same, yet I was proud to-day to see him. - -"Is it he?" asked the priest, dividing his attention between me and the -approaching nobleman. - -"It's no other," said I. "I would know Prince Charles in ten thousand, -though I saw him but the once in a rabble of caterans coming up the -Gallow-gate of Glasgow." - -"Ah," said the priest, with a curious sighing sound. "They said he -passed here at the hour. And that's our gentleman, is it? I expected -he would have been--would have been different." When the Prince was -opposite the cafe where we sat he let his glance come to earth, and it -fell upon myself. His aspect changed; there was something of recognition -in it; though he never slackened his pace and was gazing the next moment -down the vista of the street, I knew that his glance had taken me in -from head to heel, and that I was still the object of his thoughts. - -"You see! you see!" cried the priest, "I was right, and he knew the -Greig. Why, lad, shalt have an Easter egg for this--the best horologe in -Versailles upon Monday morning." - -"Why, how could he know me?" I asked. "It is an impossibility, for when -he and I were in the same street last he rode a horse high above an army -and I was only a raw laddie standing at a close-mouth in Duff's Land in -the Gallowgate." - -But all the same I felt the priest was right, and that there was some -sort of recognition in the Prince's glance at me in passing. - -Father Hamilton poured himself a generous glass and drank thirstily. - -"La! la! la!" said he, resuming his customary manner of address. "I -daresay his Royal Highness has never clapt eyes on thy _croque-mori_ -countenance before, but he has seen its like--ay, and had a regard for -it, too! Thine Uncle Andrew has done the thing for thee again; the mole, -the hair, the face, the shoes--sure they advertise the Greig as by a -drum tuck! and Charles Edward knew thy uncle pretty well so I supposed -he would know thee. And this is my gentleman, is it? Well, well! No, not -at all well; mighty ill indeed. Not the sort of fellow I had looked for -at all. Seems a harmless man enough, and has tossed many a goblet in the -way of company. If he had been a sour whey-face now--" - -Father Hamilton applied himself most industriously to the bottle that -afternoon, and it was not long till the last of my respect for him was -gone. Something troubled him. He was moody and hilarious by turns, but -neither very long, and completed my distrust of him when he intimated -that there was some possibility of our trip across Europe never coming -into effect. But all the same, I was to be assured of his patronage, -I was to continue in his service as secretary, if, as was possible, he -should take up his residence for a time in Paris. And money--why, look -again! he had a ship's load of it, and 'twould never be said of Father -Hamilton that he could not share with a friend. And there he thrust some -rouleaux upon me and clapped my shoulder and was so affected at his own -love for Andrew Greig's nephew that he must even weep. - -Weeping indeed was the priest's odd foible for the week we remained -at Versailles. He that had been so jocular before was now filled with -morose moods, and would ruminate over his bottle by the hour at a time. - -He was none the better for the company he met during our stay at the -Cerf d'Or--all priests, and to the number of half a dozen, one of them -an abbe with a most noble and reverent countenance. They used to come to -him late at night, confer with him secretly in his room, and when -they were gone I found him each time drenched in a perspiration and -feverishly gulping spirits. - -Every day we went to the cafe where we had seen the Prince first, and -every day at the same hour we saw his Royal Highness, who, it appeared, -was not known to the world as such, though known to me. The sight of -him seemed to trouble Father Hamilton amazingly, and yet 'twas the grand -object of the day--its only diversion; when we had seen the Prince we -went back straight to the inn every afternoon. - -The Cerf d'Or had a courtyard, cobbled with rough stones, in which there -was a great and noisy traffic. In the midst of the court there was a -little clump of evergreen trees and bushes in tubs, round which were -gathered a few tables and chairs whereat--now that the weather was -mild--the world sat in the afternoon. The walls about were covered with -dusty ivy where sparrows had begun to busy themselves with love and -housekeeping; lilacs sprouted into green, and the porter of the house -was for ever scratching at the hard earth about the plants, and tying up -twigs and watering the pots. It was here I used to write my letters to -Miss Walkinshaw at a little table separate from the rest, and I think it -was on Friday I was at this pleasant occupation when I looked up to see -the man with the uniform gazing at me from the other side of the bushes -as if he were waiting to have the letter when I was done with it. - -I went in and asked Father Hamilton who this man was. - -"What!" he cried in a great disturbance, "the same as we met near the -Trianon! O Lord! Paul, there is something wrong, for that was Buhot." - -"And this Buhot?" I asked. - -"A police inspector. There is no time to lose. Monsieur Greig, I want -you to do an office for me. Here is a letter that must find its way into -the hands of the Prince. You will give it to him. You have seen that -he passes the cafe at the same hour every day. Well, it is the easiest -thing in the world for you to go up to him and hand him this. No more's -to be done by you." - -"But why should I particularly give him the letter? Why not send it by -the Swiss?" - -"That is my affair," cried the priest testily. "The Prince knows -you--that is important. He knows the Swiss too, and that is why I have -the Swiss with me as a second string to my bow, but I prefer that he -should have this letter from the hand of M. Andrew Greig's nephew. 'Tis -a letter from his Royal Highness's most intimate friend." - -I took the letter into my hand, and was amazed to see that the address -was in a writing exactly corresponding to that of a billet now in the -bosom of my coat! - -What could Miss Walkinshaw and the Prince have of correspondence to be -conducted on such roundabout lines? Still, if the letter was hers I must -carry it! - -"Very well," I agreed, and went out to meet the Prince. - -The sun was blazing; the street was full of the quality in their summer -clothing. His Royal Highness came stepping along at the customary hour -more gay than ever. I made bold to call myself to his attention with my -hat in my hand. "I beg your Royal Highness's pardon," I said in English, -"but I have been instructed to convey this letter to you." - -He swept his glance over me; pausing longest of all on my red shoes, -and took the letter from my hand. He gave a glance at the direction, -reddened, and bit his lip. - -"Let me see now, what is the name of the gentleman who does me the -honour?" - -"Greig," I answered. "Paul Greig." - -"Ah!" he cried, "of course: I have had friends in Monsieur's family. -_Charme, Monsieur, de faire votre connaissance_. M. Andrew Greig-" - -"Was my uncle, your Royal Highness?" - -"So! a dear fellow, but, if I remember rightly, with a fatal gift of -irony. 'Tis a quality to be used with tact. I hope you have tact, M. -Greig. Your good uncle once did me the honour to call me a--what was it -now?--a gomeral." - -"It was very like my uncle, that, your Royal Highness," I said. "But I -know that he loved you and your cause." - -"I daresay he did, Monsieur; I daresay he did," said the Prince, -flushing, and with a show of pleasure at my speech. "I have learned of -late that the fair tongue is not always the friendliest. In spite of it -all I liked M. Andrew Greig. I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing -Monsieur Greig's nephew soon again. _Au plaisir de vous revoir!_" And -off he went, putting the letter, unread, into his pocket. - -When I went back to the Cerf d'Or and told Hamilton all that had passed, -he was straightway plunged into the most unaccountable melancholy. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -THE ATTEMPT ON THE PRINCE - -And now I come to an affair of which there have been many accounts -written, some of them within a mile or two of the truth, the most but -sheer romantics. I have in my mind notably the account of the officer -Buhot printed two years after the events in question, in which he makes -the most fabulous statement as to the valiancy of Father Hamilton's -stand in the private house in the Rue des Reservoirs, and maintains that -myself--_le fier Eccossais_, as he is flattering enough to designate -me--drew my sword upon himself and threatened to run him through for his -proposition that I should confess to a complicity in the attempt upon -his Royal Highness. I have seen his statement reproduced with some extra -ornament in the _Edinburgh Courant_, and the result of all this is -that till this day my neighbours give me credit, of which I am loth to -advantage myself, for having felled two or three of the French officers -before I was overcome at the hinder-end. - -The matter is, in truth, more prosaic as it happened, and if these -memorials of mine leave the shadow of a doubt in the minds of any -interested in an old story that created some stir in its time, I pray -them see the archives of M. Bertin, the late Lieut.-General of the -police. Bertin was no particular friend of mine, that had been the -unconscious cause of great trouble and annoyance to him, but he has the -truth in the deposition I made and signed prior to my appointment to a -company of the d'Auvergne regiment. - -Well, to take matters in their right order, it was the evening of the -day I had given the letter to the Prince that Father Hamilton expressed -his intention of passing that night in the house of a friend. - -I looked at him with manifest surprise, for he had been at the bottle -most of the afternoon, and was by now more in a state for his bed than -for going among friends. - -"Well," he cried peevishly, observing my dubiety. "Do you think me too -drunk for the society of a parcel of priests? _Ma foi!_ it is a pretty -thing that I cannot budge from my ordinary habitude of things without a -stuck owl setting up a silent protest." - -To a speech so wanting in dignity I felt it better there should be no -reply, and instead I helped him into his great-coat. As I did so, he -made an awkward lurching movement due to his corpulence, and what jumped -out of an inner pocket but a pistol? Which of us was the more confused -at that it would be hard to say. For my part, the weapon--that I -had never seen in his possession before--was a fillip to my sleeping -conscience; I picked it up with a distaste, and he took it from me with -trembling fingers and an averted look. - -"A dangerous place, Versailles, after dark," he explained feebly. "One -never knows, one never knows," and into his pocket hurriedly with it. - -"I shall be back for breakfast," he went on. "Unless--unless--oh, I -certainly shall be back." And off he set. - -The incident of the pistol disturbed me for a while. I made a score of -speculations as to why a fat priest should burden himself with such an -article, and finally concluded that it was as he suggested, to defend -himself from night birds if danger offered; though that at the time had -been the last thing I myself would have looked for in the well-ordered -town of Versailles. I sat in the common-room or _salle_ of the inn for -a while after he had gone, and thereafter retired to my own bedchamber, -meaning to read or write for an hour or two before going to bed. In the -priest's room--which was on the same landing and next to my own--I heard -the whistle of Bernard the Swiss, but I had no letters for him that -evening, and we did not meet each other. I was at first uncommon dull, -feeling more than usually the hame-wae that must have been greatly -wanting in the experience of my Uncle Andrew to make him for so long a -wanderer on the face of the earth. But there is no condition of life -so miserable but what one finds in it remissions, diversions, nay, and -delights also, and soon I was--of all things in the world to be doing -when what followed came to pass!--inditing a song to a lady, my quill -scratching across the paper in spurts and dashes, and baffled pauses -where the matter would not attend close enough on the mood, stopping -altogether at a stanza's end to hum the stuff over to myself with great -satisfaction. I was, as I say, in the midst of this; the Swiss had gone -downstairs; all in my part of the house was still, though vehicles moved -about in the courtyard, when unusually noisy footsteps sounded on the -stair, with what seemed like the tap of scabbards on the treads. - -It was a sound so strange that my hand flew by instinct to the small -sword I was now in the habit of wearing and had learned some of the use -of from Thurot. - -There was no knock for entrance; the door was boldly opened and four -officers with Buhot at their head were immediately in the room. - -Buhot intimated in French that I was to consider myself under arrest, -and repeated the same in indifferent English that there might be no -mistake about a fact as patent as that the sword was in his hand. - -For a moment I thought the consequence of my crime had followed me -abroad, and that this squat, dark officer, watching me with the scrutiny -of a forest animal, partly in a dread that my superior bulk should -endanger himself, was in league with the law of my own country. That -I should after all be dragged back in chains to a Scots gallows was a -prospect unendurable; I put up the ridiculous small sword and dared -him to lay a hand on me. But I had no sooner done so than its folly was -apparent, and I laid the weapon down. - -"_Tant mieux!_" said he, much relieved, and then an assurance that he -knew I was a gentleman of discretion and would not make unnecessary -trouble. "Indeed," he went on, "_Voyez!_ I take these men away; I have -the infinite trust in Monsieur; Monsieur and I shall settle this little -affair between us." - -And he sent his friends to the foot of the stair. - -"Monsieur may compose himself," he assured me with a profound -inclination. - -"I am very much obliged to you," I said, seating myself on the corner of -the table and crushing my poor verses into my pocket as I did so, "I am -very much obliged to you, but I'm at a loss to understand to what I owe -the honour." - -"Indeed!" he said, also seating himself on the table to show, I -supposed, that he was on terms of confidence with his prisoner. -"Monsieur is Father Hamilton's secretary?" - -"So I believe," I said; "at least I engaged for the office that's -something of a sinecure, to tell the truth." - -And then Buhot told me a strange story. - -He told me that Father Hamilton was now a prisoner, and on his way to -the prison of Bicetre. He was--this Buhot--something of the artist and -loved to make his effects most telling (which accounts, no doubt, for -the romantical nature of the accounts aforesaid), and sitting upon the -table-edge he embarked upon a narrative of the most crowded two hours -that had perhaps been in Father Hamilton's lifetime. - -It seemed that when the priest had left the Cerf d'Or, he had gone to -a place till recently called the Bureau des Carrosses pour la Rochelle, -and now unoccupied save by a concierge, and the property of some person -or persons unknown. There he had ensconced himself in the only habitable -room and waited for a visitor regarding whom the concierge had his -instructions. - -"You must imagine him," said the officer, always with the fastidiousness -of an artist for his effects, "you must imagine him, Monsieur, sitting -in this room, all alone, breathing hard, with a pistol before him on the -table, and--" - -"What! a pistol!" I cried, astounded and alarmed. "_Certainement_" said -Buhot, charmed with the effect his dramatic narrative was creating. -"Your friend, _mon ami_, would be little good, I fancy, with a rapier. -Anyway, 'twas a pistol. A carriage drives up to the door; the priest -rises to his feet with the pistol in his hand; there is the rap at the -door. '_Entrez!_' cries the priest, cocking the pistol, and no sooner -was his visitor within than he pulled the trigger; the explosion rang -through the dwelling; the chamber was full of smoke." - -"Good heavens!" I cried in horror, "and who was the unhappy wretch?" - -Buhot shrugged his shoulders, made a French gesture with his hands, and -pursed his mouth. - -"Whom did you invite to the room at the hour of ten, M. Greig?" he -asked. - -"Invite!" I cried. "It's your humour to deal in parables. I declare to -you I invited no one." - -"And yet, my good sir, you are Hamilton's secretary and you are -Hamilton's envoy. 'Twas you handed to the Prince the _poulet_ that was -designed to bring him to his fate." - -My instinct grasped the situation in a second; I had been the ignorant -tool of a madman; the whole events of the past week made the fact plain, -and I was for the moment stunned. - -Buhot watched me closely, and not unkindly, I can well believe, from -what I can recall of our interview and all that followed after it. - -"And you tell me he killed the Prince?" I cried at last. - -"No, Monsieur," said Buhot; "I am happy to say he did not. The Prince -was better advised than to accept the invitation you sent to him." - -"Still," I cried with remorse, "there's a man dead, and 'tis as much as -happens when princes themselves are clay." - -"_Parfaitement_, Monsieur, though it is indiscreet to shout it here. -Luckily there is no one at all dead in this case, otherwise it had been -myself, for I was the man who entered to the priest and received his -pistol fire. It was not the merriest of duties either," he went on, -always determined I should lose no iota of the drama, "for the priest -might have discovered before I got there that the balls of his pistol -had been abstracted." - -"Then Father Hamilton has been under watch?" - -"Since ever you set foot in Versailles last Friday," said Buhot -complacently. "The Damiens affair has sharpened our wits, I warrant -you." - -"Well, sir," I said, "let me protest that I have been till this moment -in utter darkness about Hamilton's character or plans. I took him for -what he seemed--a genial buffoon of a kind with more gear than -guidance." - -"We cannot, with infinite regret, assume that, Monsieur, but personally -I would venture a suggestion," said Buhot, coming closer on the table -and assuming an affable air. "In this business, Hamilton is a tool--no -more; and a poor one at that, badly wanting the grindstone. To break -him--phew!--'twere as easy as to break a glass, but he is one of a great -movement and the man we seek is his master--one Father Fleuriau of the -Jesuits. Hamilton's travels were but part of a great scheme that has -sent half a dozen of his kind chasing the Prince in the past year or -two from Paris to Amsterdam, from Amsterdam to Orleans, from Orleans to -Hamburg, Seville, Lisbon, Rome, Brussels, Potsdam, Nuremburg, Berlin. -The same hand that extracted his bullets tapped the priest's portfolio -and found the wretch was in promise of a bishopric and a great sum of -money. You see, M. Greig, I am curiously frank with my prisoner." - -"And no doubt you have your reasons," said I, but beat, myself, -to imagine what they could be save that he might have proofs of my -innocence. - -"Very well," said M. Buhot. "To come to the point, it is this, that we -desire to have the scheme of the Jesuits for the Prince's assassination, -and other atrocities shocking to all that revere the divinity of -princes, crumbled up. Father Hamilton is at the very roots of the -secret; if, say, a gentleman so much in his confidence as yourself--now, -if such a one were, say, to share a cell with this regicide for a night -or two, and pursue judicious inquiries----" - -"Stop! stop!" I cried, my blood hammering in my head, and the words like -to choke me. "Am I to understand that you would make me your spy and -informer upon this miserable old madman that has led me such a gowk's -errand?" - -Buhot slid back off the table edge and on to his feet. "Oh," said he, -"the terms are not happily chosen: 'spy'--'informer'--come, Monsieur -Greig; this man is in all but the actual accomplishment of his purpose -an assassin. 'Tis the duty of every honest man to help in discovering -the band of murderers whose tool he has been." - -"Then I'm no honest man, M. Buhot," said I bitterly, "for I've no -stomach for a duty so dirty." - -"Think of it for a moment," he pressed, with evident surprise at my -decision. "Bicetre is an unwholesome hostelry, I give you my word. -Consider that your choice is between a night or two there and--who -knows?--a lifetime of Galbanon that is infinitely worse." - -"Then let it be Galbanon!" I said, and lifted my sword and slapped it -furiously, sheathed as it was, like a switch upon the table. - -[Illustration: 198] - -Buhot leaped back in a fear that I was to attack him, and cried his men -from the stair foot. - -"This force is not needed at all," I said. "I am innocent enough to be -prepared to go quietly." - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -OF A NIGHT JOURNEY AND BLACK BICETRE AT THE END OF IT - -'Twas a long journey to the prison of Bicetre, which is two miles to the -south of the city of Paris, a great building that had once (they say) -been a palace, but now in the time of my experience was little better -than a vestibule of hell. I was driven to it through a black loud night -of rain, a plunging troop of horse on either hand the coach as if I were -a traveller of state, and Buhot in front of me as silent as the priest -had been the day we left Dunkerque, though wakeful, and the tip of -his scabbard leaning on my boot to make sure that in the darkness no -movement of mine should go unobserved. - -The trees swung and roared in the wind; the glass lozens of the carriage -pattered to the pelting showers; sometimes we lurched horribly in the -ruts of the highway, and were released but after monstrous efforts -on the part of the cavaliers. Once, as we came close upon a loop of a -brawling river, I wished with all fervency that we might fall in, and -so end for ever this pitiful coil of trials whereto fate had obviously -condemned poor Paul Greig. To die among strangers (as is widely -known) is counted the saddest of deaths by our country people, and so, -nowadays, it would seem to myself, but there and then it appeared an -enviable conclusion to the Spoiled Horn that had blundered from folly to -folly. To die there and then would be to leave no more than a regret and -an everlasting wonder in the folks at home; to die otherwise, as seemed -my weird, upon a block or gallows, would be to foul the name of my -family for generations, and I realised in my own person the agony of my -father when he got the news, and I bowed my shoulders in the coach below -the shame that he would feel as in solemn blacks he walked through the -Sabbath kirkyard in summers to come in Mearns, with the knowledge that -though neighbours looked not at him but with kindness, their inmost -thoughts were on the crimson chapter of his son. - -Well, we came at the long last to Bicetre, and I was bade alight in the -flare of torches. A strange, a memorable scene; it will never leave me. -Often I remit me there in dreams. When I came out of the conveyance the -lights dazzled me, and Buhot put his hands upon my shoulders and turned -me without a word in the direction he wished me to take. It was through -a vast and frowning doorway that led into a courtyard so great that -the windows on the other side seemed to be the distance of a field. The -windows were innumerable, and though the hour was late they were lit in -stretching corridors. Fires flamed in corners of the yard--great leaping -fires round which warders (as I guessed them) gathered to dry themselves -or get warmth against the chill of the early April morning. Their -scabbards or their muskets glittered now and then in the light of the -flames; their voices--restrained by the presence of Buhot--sounded -deep and dreadful to me that knew not the sum of his iniquity yet could -shudder at the sense of what portended. - -[Illustration: 203] - -It were vain for me to try and give expression to my feeling as I went -past these fires across the stony yard, and entered between a guard or -two at the other side. At the root of my horror was the sentiment that -all was foreign, that I was no more to these midnight monsters round -their torturing flames than a creature of the wood, less, perhaps, for -were they not at sworn war with my countrymen, and had not I a share -at least of the repute of regicide? And when, still led by the silent -officer, I entered the building itself and walked through an unending -corridor broken at intervals by black doors and little barred borrowed -lights, and heard sometimes a moan within, or a shriek far off in -another part of the building, I experienced something of that long -swound that is insanity. Then I was doomed for the rest of my brief days -to be among these unhappy wretches--the victims of the law or political -vengeance, the _forcat_ who had thieved, or poisoned, perjured himself, -or taken human blood! - -At last we came to a door, where Buhot stopped me and spoke, for the -first time, almost, since we had left Versailles. He put his hand out to -check a warder who was going to open the cell for my entrance. - -"I am not a hard man, M. Greig," said he, in a stumbling English, "and -though this is far beyond my duties, and, indeed, contrary to the same, -I would give you another chance. We shall have, look you, our friend the -priest in any case, and to get the others is but a matter of time. 'Tis -a good citizen helps the law always; you must have that respect for the -law that you should feel bound to circumvent those who would go counter -to it with your cognisance." - -"My good man," I said, as quietly as I could, and yet internally with -feelings like to break me, "I have already said my say. If the tow was -round my thrapple I would say no more than that I am innocent of any -plot against a man by whose family mine have lost, and that I myself, -for all my loyalty to my country, would do much to serve as a private -individual." - -"Consider," he pleaded. "After all, this Hamilton may be a madman with -nothing at all to tell that will help us." - -"But the bargain is to be that I must pry and I must listen," said I, -"and be the tale-pyat whose work may lead to this poor old buffoon's and -many another's slaughtering. Not I, M. Buhot, and thank ye kindly! It's -no' work for one of the Greigs of Hazel Den." - -"I fear you do not consider all," he said patiently--so patiently indeed -that I wondered at him. "I will show you to what you are condemned even -before your trial, before you make up your mind irrevocably to refuse -this very reasonable request of ours," and he made a gesture that caused -the warder to open the door so that I could see within. - -There was no light of its own in the cell, but it borrowed wanly a -little of the radiance of the corridor, and I could see that it was bare -to the penury of a mausoleum, with a stone floor, a wooden palliasse, -and no window other than a barred hole above the door. There was not -even a stool to sit on. But I did not quail. - -"I have been in more comfortable quarters, M. Buhot," I said, "but in -none that I could occupy with a better conscience." Assuming with that a -sort of bravado, I stepped in before he asked me. - -"Very good," he cried; "but I cannot make you my felicitations on your -decision, M. Greig," and without more ado he had the door shut on me. - -I sat on the woollen palliasse for a while, with my head on my hands, -surrendered all to melancholy; and then, though the thing may seem -beyond belief, I stretched myself and slept till morning. It was not the -most refreshing of sleep, but still 'twas wonderful that I should sleep -at all in such circumstances, and I take it that a moorland life had -been a proper preparation for just such trials. - -When I wakened in the morning the prison seemed full of eerie noises--of -distant shrieks as in a bedlam, and commanding voices, and of ringing -metals, the clank of fetters, or the thud of musket-butts upon the -stones. A great beating of feet was in the yard, as if soldiers were -manoeuvring, and it mastered me to guess what all this might mean, until -a warder opened my door and ordered me out for an airing. - -I mind always of a parrot at a window. - -This window was one that looked into the yard from some official's -dwelling in that dreadful place, and the bird occupied a great cage that -was suspended from a nail outside. - -The bird, high above the rabble of rogues in livery, seemed to have a -devilish joy in the spectacle of the misery tramping round and round -beneath, for it clung upon the bars and thrust out its head to whistle, -as if in irony, or taunt us with a foul song. There was one air it -had, expressed so clearly that I picked up air and words with little -difficulty, and the latter ran something like this: - - Ah! ah! Pierrot, Pierrot! - Fais ta toilette, - Voila le barbier! oh! oh! - Et sa charrette-- - -all in the most lugubrious key. - -And who were we that heard that reference to the axe? We were the scum, -the _sordes_, the rot of France. There was, doubtless, no crime before -the law of the land, no outrage against God and man, that had not here -its representative. We were not men, but beasts, cut off from every -pleasant--every clean and decent association, the visions of sin -always behind the peering eyes, the dreams of vice and crime for ever -fermenting in the low brows. I felt 'twas the forests we should be -frequenting--the forests of old, the club our weapon, the cave our -habitation; no song ours, nor poem, no children to infect with fondness, -no women to smile at in the light of evening lamps. The forest--the -cave--the animal! What were we but children of the outer dark, condemned -from the start of time, our faces ground hard against the flints, our -feet bogged in hag and mire? - -There must have been several hundreds of the convicts in the yard, and -yet I was told later that it was not a fourth of the misery that Bicetre -held, and that scores were leaving weekly for the _bagnes_--the hulks at -Toulon and at Brest--while others took their places. - -Every man wore a uniform--a coarse brown jacket, vast wide breeches of -the same hue, a high sugar-loaf cap and wooden shoes--all except some -privileged, whereof I was one--and we were divided into gangs, each gang -with its warders--tall grenadiers with their muskets ready. - -Round and round and across and across we marched in the great -quadrangle, every man treading the rogues' measure with leg-weary -reluctance, many cursing their warders under breath, most scowling, all -hopeless and all lost. - -'Twas the exercise of the day. - -As we slouched through that mad ceremony in the mud of the yard, with -rain still drizzling on us, the parrot in its cage had a voice loud -and shrill above the commands of the grenadiers and officers; sang -its taunting song, or whistled like a street boy, a beast so free, so -careless and remote, that I had a fancy it had the only soul in the -place. - -As I say, we were divided into gangs, each gang taking its own course -back and forward in the yard as its commander ordered. The gang I was -with marched a little apart from the rest. We were none of us in this -gang in the ugly livery of the prison, but in our own clothing, and we -were, it appeared, allowed that privilege because we were yet to try. I -knew no reason for the distinction at the time, nor did I prize it very -much, for looking all about the yard--at the officers, the grenadiers, -and other functionaries of the prison, I failed to see a single face -I knew. What could I conclude but that Buhot was gone and that I was -doomed to be forgotten here? - -It would have been a comfort even to have got a glimpse of Father -Hamilton, the man whose machinations were the cause of my imprisonment, -but Father Hamilton, if he had been taken here as Buhot had suggested, -was not, at all events, in view. - -After the morning's exercise we that were the privileged were taken to -what was called the _salle depreuve_, and with three or four to each -_gamelle_ or mess-tub, ate a scurvy meal of a thin soup and black bread -and onions. To a man who had been living for a month at heck and manger, -as we say, this might naturally seem unpalatable fare, but truth to -tell I ate it with a relish that had been all the greater had it been -permitted me to speak to any of my fellow sufferers. But speech was -strictly interdict and so our meal was supped in silence. - -When it was over I was to be fated for the pleasantest of surprises! - -There came to me a sous-officer of the grenadiers. - -In French he asked if I was Monsieur Greig. I said as best I could in -the same tongue that I was that unhappy person at his service. Then, -said he, "Come with me." He led me into a hall about a hundred feet long -that had beds or mattresses for about three hundred people. The room was -empty, as those who occupied it were, he said, at Mass. Its open windows -in front looked into another courtyard from that in which we had been -exercising, while the windows at the rear looked into a garden where -already lilac was in bloom and daffodillies endowed the soil of a few -mounds with the colour of the gold. On the other side of the court first -named there was a huge building. "Galbanon," said my guide, pointing to -it, and then made me understand that the same was worse by far than -the Bastille, and at the moment full of Marquises, Counts, Jesuits, and -other clergymen, many of them in irons for abusing or writing against -the Marchioness de Pompadour. - -I listened respectfully and waited Monsieur's explanation. It was -manifest I had not been brought into this hall for the good of my -education, and naturally I concluded the name of Galbanon, that I had -heard already from Buhot, with its villainous reputation, was meant to -terrify me into a submission to what had been proposed. The moment after -a hearty meal--even of _soup maigre_--was not, however, the happiest of -times to work upon a Greig's feelings of fear or apprehension, and so I -waited, very dour within upon my resolution though outwardly in the most -complacent spirit. - -The hall was empty when we entered as I have said, but we had not been -many minutes in it when the tramp of men returning to it might be heard, -and this hurried my friend the officer to his real business. - -He whipped a letter from his pocket and put it in my hand with a sign to -compel secrecy on my part. It may be readily believed I was quick enough -to conceal the missive. He had no cause to complain of the face I turned -upon another officer who came up to us, for 'twas a visage of clownish -vacuity. - -The duty of the second officer, it appeared, was to take me to a new -cell that had been in preparation for me, and when I got there it -was with satisfaction I discovered it more than tolerable, with a -sufficiency of air and space, a good light from the quadrangle, a few -books, paper, and a writing standish. - -When the door had been shut upon me, I turned to open my letter and -found there was in fact a couple of them--a few lines from her ladyship -in Dunkerque expressing her continued interest in my welfare and -adventures, and another from the Swiss through whom the first had come. -He was still--said the honest Bernard--at my service, having eluded -the vigilance of Buhot, who doubtless thought a lackey scarce worth his -hunting, and he was still in a position to post my letters, thanks to -the goodwill of the sous-officer who was a relative. Furthermore, he -was in hopes that Miss Walkinshaw, who was on terms of intimacy with the -great world and something of an _intriguante_, would speedily take steps -to secure my freedom. "Be tranquil, dear Monsieur!" concluded the brave -fellow, and I was so exceedingly comforted and inspired by these matters -that I straightway sat down to the continuation of my journal for Miss -Walkinshaw's behoof. I had scarce dipped the pen, when my cell -door opened and gave entrance to the man who was the cause of my -incarceration. - -The door shut and locked behind him; it was Father Hamilton! - -It was indeed Father Hamilton, by all appearance none the worse in body -for his violent escapade, so weighty with the most fatal possibilities -for himself, for he advanced to me almost gaily, his hand extended and -his face red and smiling. - -"Scotland! to my heart!" cries he in the French, and throws his arms -about me before I could resist, and kisses me on the cheeks after the -amusing fashion of his nation. "La! la! la! Paul," he cried, "I'd have -wanted three breakfasts sooner than miss this meeting with my good -secretary lad that is the lovablest rogue never dipped a pen in his -master's service. Might have been dead for all I knew, and run through -by a brutal rapier, victim of mine own innocence. But here's my Paul, -_pardieu!_ I would as soon have my _croque-mort_ now as that jolly dog -his uncle, that never waked till midnight or slept till the dull, -uninteresting noon in the years when we went roving. What! Paul! Paul -Greig! my _croque-mort!_ my Don Dolorous!--oh, Lord, my child, I am the -most miserable of wretches!" - -And there he let me go, and threw himself upon a chair, and gave his -vast body to a convulsion of arid sobs. The man was in hysterics, -compounding smiles and sobs a score to the minute, but at the end 'twas -the natural man won the bout, else he had taken a stroke. I stood by -him in perplexity of opinions whether to laugh or storm, whether to give -myself to the righteous horror a good man ought to feel in the presence -of a murtherer, or shrug my shoulders tolerantly at the imbecile. - -"There!" said he, recovering his natural manner, "I have made a mortal -enemy of Andrew Greig's nephew. Yes, yes, master, glower at Misery, -fat Misery--and the devil take it!--old Misery, without a penny in 'ts -pocket, and its next trip upon wheels a trip to the block to nuzzle at -the dirty end in damp sawdust a nose that has appreciated the bouquet -of the rarest wines. Paul, my boy, has't a pinch of snuff? A brutal -bird out there sings a stave of the _Chanson de la Veuve_ so like the -confounded thing that I heard my own foolish old head drop into the -basket, and there! I swear to you the smell of the sawdust is in my -nostrils now." - -I handed him my box; 'twas a mull my Uncle Andy gave me before he died, -made of the horn of a young bullock, with a blazon of the house on the -silver lid. He took it eagerly and drenched himself with the contents. - -"Oh, la! la!" he cried; "I give thanks. My head was like yeast. I wish -it were Christmas last, and a man called Hamilton was back in Dixmunde -parish. But there! that is enough, I have made my bed and I must lie -on't, with a blight on all militant jesuitry! When last I had this box -in my fingers they were as steady as Mont St. Michel, now look--they are -trembling like aspen, _n'est-ce pas?_ And all that's different is that I -have eaten one or two better dinners and cracked a few pipkins of better -wine, and--and--well-nigh killed a police officer. Did'st ever hear of -one Hamilton, M. Greig? 'Twas a cheery old fellow in Dixmunde whose name -was the same as mine, and had a garden and bee-hives, and I am on the -rack for my sins." - -He might be on the rack--and, indeed, I daresay the man was in a passion -of feelings so that he knew not what he was havering about, but what -impressed me most of all about him was that he seemed to have some -momentary gleams of satisfaction in his situation. - -"I have every ground of complaint against you, sir," I said. - -"What!" he interrupted. "Would'st plague an old man with complaints when -M. de Paris is tapping him on the shoulder to come away and smell the -sawdust of his own coffin? Oh, 'tis not in this wise thy uncle had done, -but no matter!" - -"I have no wish, Father Hamilton, to revile you for what you have -brought me," I hastened to tell him. "That is far from my thoughts, -though now that you put me in mind of it, there is some ground for my -blaming you if blaming was in my intention. But I shall blame you for -this, that you are a priest of the Church and a Frenchman, and yet did -draw a murderous hand upon a prince of your own country." - -This took him somewhat aback. He helped himself to another voluminous -pinch of my snuff to give him time for a rejoinder and then--"Regicide, -M. Greig, is sometimes to be defended when----" - -"Regicide!" I cried, losing all patience, "give us the plain English -of it, Father Hamilton, and call it murder. To call it by a Latin name -makes it none the more respectable a crime against the courts of heaven -where the curse of Babel has an end. But for an accident, or the cunning -of others, you had a corpse upon your conscience this day, and your name -had been abhorred throughout the whole of Europe." - -He put his shoulders up till his dew-laps fell in massive folds. - -"'Fore God!" said he, "here's a treatise in black letter from Andrew -Greig's nephew. It comes indifferently well, I assure thee, from -Andrew's nephew. Those who live in glass houses, _cher ami_,--those who -live in glass houses----" - -He tapped me upon the breast with his fat finger and paused, with a -significant look upon his countenance. - -"Oh, ye can out with it, Father Hamilton!" I cried, certain I knew his -meaning. - -"Those who live in glass houses," said he, "should have some pity for a -poor old devil out in the weather without a shelter of any sort." - -"You were about to taunt me with my own unhappy affair," I said, little -relishing his consideration. - -"Was I, M. Greig?" he said softly. "Faith! a glass residence seems to -breed an ungenerous disposition! If thou can'st credit me I know nothing -of thine affair beyond what I may have suspected from a Greig travelling -hurriedly and in red shoes. I make you my compliments, Monsieur, of your -morality that must be horror-struck at my foolish play with a pistol, -yet thinks me capable of a retort so vile as that you indicate. My dear -lad, I but spoke of what we have spoken of together before in our happy -chariot in the woods of Somme--thine uncle's fate, and all I expected -was, that remembering the same, thou his nephew would'st have enough -tolerance for an old fool to leave his punishment in the hands of -the constitute authority. _Voila!_ I wish to heaven they had given me -another cell, after all, that I might have imagined thy pity for one -that did thee no harm, or at least meant to do none, which is the main -thing with all our acts else Purgatory's more crowded than I fancy." - -He went wearily over to the fire and spread his trembling hands to -the blaze; I looked after him perplexed in my mind, but not without an -overpowering pity. - -"I have come, like thyself, doubtless," he said after a little, "over -vile roads in a common cart, and lay awake last night in a dungeon--a -pretty conclusion to my excursion! And yet I am vastly more happy to-day -than I was this time yesterday morning." - -"But then you were free," I said, "you had all you need wish for--money, -a conveyance, servants, leisure----" - -"And M' Croque-mort's company," he added with a poor smile. "True, true! -But the thing was then to do," and he shuddered. "Now my part is done, -'twas by God's grace a failure, and I could sing for content like one of -the little birds we heard the other day in Somme." - -He could not but see my bewilderment in my face. - -"You wonder at that," said he, relinquishing the Roman manner as he -always did when most in earnest. "Does Monsieur fancy a poor old priest -can take to the ancient art of assassination with an easy mind? _Nom de -nom!_ I could skip to the block like a ballet-dancer if 'twere either -that or live the past two days over again and fifty years after. I have -none of the right stomach for murder; that's flat! 'tis a business that -keeps you awake too much at night, and disturbs the gastric essence; -calls, too, for a confounded agility that must be lacking in a person of -my handsome and plenteous bulk. I had rather go fishing any day in the -week than imbrue. When Buhot entered the room where I waited for a less -worthy man and I fired honestly for my money and missed, I could have -died of sheer rapture. Instead I threw myself upon his breast and -embraced him." - -"He said none of that to me." - -"Like enough not, but 'tis true none the less, though he may keep so -favourable a fact out of his records. A good soul enough, Buhot! We knew -him, your uncle and I, in the old days when I was thinner and played a -good game of chess at three in the morning. Fancy Ned Hamilton cutting -short the glorious career of old Buhot! I'd sooner pick a pocket." - -"Or kill a prince!" - -"Felicitations on your wit, M. Greig! Heaven help the elderly when -the new wit is toward! _N'importe!_ Perhaps 'twere better to kill some -princes than to pick a pocket. Is it not better, or less wicked, let us -say, to take the life of a man villainously abusing it than the purse of -a poor wretch making the most of his scanty _livres?_" - -And then the priest set out upon his defence. It is too long here to -reproduce in his own words, even if I recalled them, and too specious -in its terms for the patience of the honest world of our time. With his -hands behind his back he marched up and down the room for the space of -a half-hour at the least, recounting all that led to his crime. The -tale was like a wild romance, but yet, as we know now, true in every -particular. He was of the Society of Jesus, had lived a stormy youth, -and fallen in later years into a disrepute in his own parish, and there -the heads of his Society discovered him a very likely tool for their -purposes. They had only half convinced him that the death of Charles -Edward was for the glory of God and the good of the Church when they -sent him marching with a pistol and L500 in bills of exchange and -letters of credit upon a chase that covered a great part of three or -four countries, and ended at Lisbon, when a German Jesuit in the secret -gave him ten crusadoes to bring him home with his task unaccomplished. - -"I have what amounts almost to a genius for losing the opportunities -of which I do not desire to avail myself," said Father Hamilton with a -whimsical smile. - -And then he had lain in disgrace with the Jesuits for a number of -years until it became manifest (as he confessed with shame) that his -experience of leisure, wealth, and travel had enough corrupted him to -make the prospect of a second adventure of a similar kind pleasing. At -that time Charles, lost to the sight of Europe, and only discovered at -brief and tantalising intervals by the Jesuit agents, scarce slept two -nights in the same town, but went from country to country _incognito_, -so that 'twas no trivial task Father Hamilton undertook to run him to -earth. - -"The difficulty of it--indeed the small likelihood there was of my ever -seeing him," he said, "was what mainly induced me to accept the office, -though in truth it was compelled. I was doing very well at Dunkerque," -he went on, "and very happy if I had never heard more of prince or -priesthood, when Father Fleuriau sent me a hurried intimation that my -victim was due at Versailles on Easter and ordered my instant departure -there." - -The name of Fleuriau recalled me to my senses. "Stop, stop, Father -Hamilton!" I cried, "I must hear no more." - -"What!" said he, bitterly, "is't too good a young gentleman to listen to -the confession of a happy murderer that has failed at his trade?" - -"I have no feeling left but pity," said I, almost like to weep at this, -"but you have been put into this cell along with me for a purpose." - -"And what might that be, M. Greig?" he asked, looking round about him, -and seeing for the first time, I swear, the sort of place he was -in. "Faith! it is comfort, at any rate; I scarce noticed that, in my -pleasure at seeing Paul Greig again." - -"You must not tell me any more of your Jesuit plot, nor name any of -those involved in the same, for Buhot has been at me to cock an ear -to everything you may say in that direction, and betray you and your -friends. It is for that he has put us together into this cell." - -"_Pardieu!_ am not I betrayed enough already?" cried the priest, -throwing up his hands. "I'll never deny my guilt." - -"Yes," I said, "but they want the names of your fellow conspirators, and -Buhot says they never expect them directly from you." - -"He does, does he?" said the priest, smiling. "Faith, M. Buhot has a -good memory for his friend's characteristics. No, M. Greig, if they -put this comfortable carcase to the rack itself. And was that all -thy concern? Well, as I was saying--let us speak low lest some one be -listening--this Father Fleuriau-" - -Again I stopped him. - -"You put me into a hard position, Father Hamilton," I said. "My -freedom--my life, perhaps--depends on whether I can tell them your -secret or not, and here you throw it in my face." - -"And why not?" he asked, simply. "I merely wish to show myself largely -the creature of circumstances, and so secure a decent Scot's most -favourable opinion of me before the end." - -"But I might be tempted to betray you." - -The old eagle looked again out at his eyes. He gently slapped my -cheek with a curious touch of fondness almost womanly, and gave a low, -contented laugh. - -"_Farceur!_" he said. "As if I did not know my Don Dolorous, my merry -Andrew's nephew!" His confidence hugely moved me, and, lest he should -think I feared to trust myself with his secrets, I listened to the -remainder of his story, which I shall not here set down, as it bears but -slightly on my own narrative, and may even yet be revealed only at cost -of great distress among good families, not only on the Continent but in -London itself. - -When he had done, he thanked me for listening so attentively to a matter -that was so much on his mind that it gave him relief to share it with -some one. "And not only for that, M. Greig," said he, "are my thanks -due, for you saved the life that might have been the prince's instead -of my old gossip, Buhot's. To take the bullet out of my pistol was -the device your uncle himself would have followed in the like -circumstances." - -"But I did not do that!" I protested. - -He looked incredulous. - -"Buhot said as much," said he; "he let it out unwittingly that I had had -my claws clipped by my own household." - -"Then assuredly not by me, Father Hamilton." - -"So!" said he, half incredulous, and a look of speculation came upon his -countenance. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -PHILOSOPHY IN A FELON'S CELL - -It seemed for a while as if we were fated to lie forgotten in Bicetre -till the crack of doom; not that we were many days there when all was -done, but that in our natural hourly expectation at first of being -called forth for trial the hours passed so sluggishly that Time -seemed finally to sleep, and a week, to our fancy--to mine at all -events--seemed a month at the most modest computation. - -I should have lost my reason but for the company of the priest, who, for -considerations best known to others and to me monstrously inadequate, -was permitted all the time to share my cell. In his singular society -there was a recreation that kept me from too feverishly brooding on my -wrongs, and his character every day presented fresh features of interest -and admiration. He had become quite cheerful again, and as content in -the confine of his cell as he had been when the glass coach was jolting -over the early stages of what had been intended for a gay procession -round the courts of Europe. Once more he affected the Roman manner that -was due to his devotion to Shakespeare and L'Estrange's Seneca, and -"Clarissa Harlowe," a knowledge of which, next to the Scriptures, he -counted the first essentials for a polite education. I protest he grew -fatter every day, and for ease his corpulence was at last saved the -restraint of buttons, which was an indolent indulgence so much to -his liking that of itself it would have reconciled him to spend the -remainder of his time in prison. - -"_Tiens!_ Paul," he would say, "here's an old fool has blundered through -the greater part of his life without guessing till now how easy a thing -content is to come by. Why, 'tis no more than a loose waistcoat and a -chemise unbuttoned at the neck. I dared not be happy thus in Dixmunde, -where the folks were plaguily particular that their priest should be -point-devise, as if mortal man had time to tend his soul and keep a -constant eye on the lace of his fall." - -And he would stretch himself--a very mountain of sloth--in his chair. - -With me 'twas different. Even in a gaol I felt sure a day begun untidily -was a day ill-done by. If I had no engagements with the fastidious -fashionable world I had engagements with myself; moreover, I shared my -father's sentiment, that a good day's darg of work with any thinking in -it was never done in a pair of slippers down at the heel. Thus I was -as peijink (as we say) in Bicetre as I would have been at large in the -genteel world. - -"Not," he would admit, "but that I love to see thee in a decent habit, -and so constant plucking at thy hose, for I have been young myself, and -had some right foppish follies, too. But now, my good man Dandiprat, my -_petit-maitre_, I am old--oh, so old!--and know so much of wisdom, and -have seen such a confusion of matters, that I count comfort the greatest -of blessings. The devil fly away with buttons and laces! say I, that -have been parish priest of Dixmunde--and happily have not killed a man -nor harmed a flea, though like enough to get killed myself." - -The weather was genial, yet he sat constantly hugging the fire, and I -at the window, which happily gave a prospect of the yard between our -building and that of Galbanon. I would be looking out there, and -perhaps pining for freedom, while he went prating on upon the scurviest -philosophy surely ever man gave air to. - -[Illustration: 226] - -"Behold, my scrivener, how little man wants for happiness! My constant -fear in Dixmunde was that I would become so useless for all but eating -and sleeping, when I was old, that no one would guarantee me either; -poverty took that place at my table the skull took among the Romans--the -thought on't kept me in a perpetual apprehension. _Nom de chien!_ and -this was what I feared--this, a hard lodging, coarse viands, and sour -wine! What was the fellow's name?--Demetrius, upon the taking of Megara, -asked Monsieur Un-tel the Philosopher what he had lost. 'Nothing at -all,' said he, 'for I have all that I could call my own about me,' and -yet 'twas no more than the skin he stood in. A cell in Bicetre would -have been paradise to such a gallant fellow. Oh, Paul, I fear thou -may'st be ungrateful--I would be looking out there, and perhaps pining -for freedom," he went prating on, "to this good Buhot, who has given us -such a fine lodging, and saved us the care of providing for ourselves." - -"'Tis all very well, father," I said, leaning on the sill of the window, -and looking at a gang of prisoners being removed from one part of -Galbanon to another--"'tis all very well, but I mind a priest that -thought jaunting round the country in a chariot the pinnacle of bliss. -And that was no further gone than a fortnight ago." - -"Bah!" said he, and stretched his fat fingers to the fire; "he that -cannot live happily anywhere will live happily nowhere at all. What -avails travel, if Care waits like a hostler to unyoke the horses at -every stage? I tell thee, my boy, I never know what a fine fellow -is Father Hamilton till I have him by himself at a fireside; 'tis by -firesides all the wisest notions come to one." - -"I wish there came a better dinner than to-day's," said I, for we had -agreed an hour ago that smoked soup was not very palatable. - -"La! la! la! there goes Sir Gourmet!" cried his reverence. "Have I -infected this poor Scot that ate naught but oats ere he saw France, with -mine own fever for fine feeding from which, praise _le bon Dieu!_ I have -recovered? 'Tis a brutal entertainment, and unworthy of man, to place -his felicity in the service of his senses. I maintain that even smoked -soup is pleasant enough on the palate of a man with an easy conscience, -and a mind purged of vulgar cares." - -"And you can be happy here, Father Hamilton?" - -I asked, astonished at such sentiments from a man before so ill to -please. - -He heaved like a mountain in travail, and brought forth a peal of -laughter out of all keeping with our melancholy situation. "Happy!" said -he, "I have never been happy for twenty years till Buhot clapped claw -upon my wrist. Thou may'st have seen a sort of mask of happiness, a -false face of jollity in Dunkerque parlours, and heard a well-simulated -laughter now and then as we drank by wayside inns, but may I be called -coxcomb if the miserable wretch who playacted then was half so light of -heart as this that sits here at ease, and has only one regret--that he -should have dragged Andrew Greig's nephew into trouble with him. What -man can be perfectly happy that runs the risk of disappointment--which -is the case of every man that fears or hopes for anything? Here am I, -too old for the flame of love or the ardour of ambition; all that knew -me and understood me best and liked me most are dead long since. I have -a state palace prepared for me free; a domestic in livery to serve my -meals; parishioners do not vex me with their trifling little hackneyed -sins, and my conclusion seems like to come some morning after an omelet -and a glass of wine." - -I could not withhold a shudder. - -"But to die that way, Father!" I said. - -"_C'est egal!_" said he, and crossed himself. "We must all die somehow, -and I had ever a dread of a stone. Come, come, M. Croque-mort, enough -of thy confounded dolours! I'll be hanged if thou did'st not steal -these shoes, and art after all but an impersonator of a Greig. The lusty -spirit thou call'st thine uncle would have used his teeth ere now to -gnaw his way through the walls of Bicetre, and here thou must stop to -converse cursedly on death to the fatted ox that smells the blood of the -abattoir--oh lad, give's thy snuff-box, sawdust again!" - -Thus by the hour went on the poor wretch, resigned most obviously to -whatever was in store for him, not so much from a native courage, I -fear, as from a plethora of flesh that smothered every instinct of -self-preservation. As for me I kept up hope for three days that Buhot -would surely come to test my constancy again, and when that seemed -unlikely, when day after day brought the same routine, the same cell -with Hamilton, the same brief exercise in the yard, the same vulgar -struggle at the _gamelle_ in the _salle d'epreuve_--I could have -welcomed Galbanon itself as a change, even if it meant all the -horror that had been associated with it by Buhot and my friend the -sous-officer. - -Galbanon! I hope it has long been levelled with the dust, and even then -I know the ghosts of those there tortured in their lives will habitate -the same in whirling eddies, for a constant cry for generations has -gone up to heaven from that foul spot. It must have been a devilish -ingenuity, an invention of all the impish courts below, that placed me -at a window where Galbanon faced me every hour of the day or night, its -horror all revealed. I have seen in the pool of Earn in autumn weather, -when the river was in spate, dead leaves and broken branches borne down -dizzily upon the water to toss madly in the linn at the foot of the -fall; no less helpless, no less seared by sin and sorrow, or broken by -the storms of circumstance, were the wretches that came in droves to -Galbanon. The stream of crime or tyranny bore them down (some from very -high places), cast them into this boiling pool, and there they eddied in -a circle of degraded tasks from which it seemed the fate of many of them -never to escape, though their luckier fellows went in twos or threes -every other day in a cart to their doom appointed. - -Be sure it was not pleasant each day for me to hear the hiss of the lash -and the moans of the bastinadoed wretch, to see the blood spurt, and -witness the anguish of the men who dragged enormous bilboes on their -galled ankles. - -At last I felt I could stand it no longer, and one day intimated to -Father Hamilton that I was determined on an escape. - -"Good lad!" he cried, his eye brightening. "The most sensible thing thou -hast said in twenty-four hours. 'Twill be a recreation for myself to -help," and he buttoned his waistcoat. - -"We can surely devise some means of breaking out if----" - -"We!" he repeated, shaking his head. "No, no, Paul, thou hast too risky -a task before thee to burden thyself with behemoth. Shalt escape by -thyself and a blessing with thee, but as for Father Hamilton he knows -when he is well-off, and he shall not stir a step out of Buhot's -charming and commodious inn until the bill is presented." - -In vain I protested that I should not dream of leaving him there while -I took flight; he would listen to none of my reasoning, and for that day -at least I abandoned the project. - -Next day Buhot helped me to a different conclusion, for I was summoned -before him. - -"Well, Monsieur," he said, "is it that we have here a more discerning -young gentleman than I had the honour to meet last time?" - -"Just the very same, M. Buhot," said I bluntly. He chewed the stump of -his pen and shrugged his shoulders. - -"Come, come, M. Greig," he went on, "this is a _betise_ of the most -ridiculous. We have given you every opportunity of convincing yourself -whether this Hamilton is a good man or a bad one, whether he is the tool -of others or himself a genius of mischief." - -"The tool of others, certainly, that much I am prepared to tell you, but -that you know already. And certainly no genius of mischief himself; man! -he has not got the energy to kick a dog." - -"And--and--" said Buhot softly, fancying he had me in the key of -revelation. - -"And that's all, M. Buhot," said I, with a carriage he could not -mistake. - -He shrugged his shoulders again, wrote something in a book on the desk -before him with great deliberation and then asked me how I liked my -quarters in Bicetre. - -"Tolerably well," I said. "I've been in better, but I might be in waur." - -He laughed a little at the Scotticism that seemed to recall -something--perhaps a pleasantry of my uncle's--to him, and then said -he, "I'm sorry they cannot be yours very much longer, M. Greig. We -calculated that a week or two of this priest's company would have been -enough to inspire a distaste and secure his confession, but apparently -we were mistaken. You shall be taken to other quarters on Saturday." - -"I hope, M. Buhot," said I, "they are to be no worse than those I occupy -now." - -His face reddened a little at this--I felt always there was some vein of -special kindness to me in this man's nature--and he said hesitatingly, -"Well, the truth is, 'tis Galbanon." - -"Before a trial?" I asked, incredulous. - -"The trial will come in good time," he said, rising to conclude the -parley, and he turned his back on me as I was conducted out of the -room and back to the cell, where Father Hamilton waited with unwonted -agitation for my tidings. - -"Well, lad," he cried, whenever we were alone, "what stirs? I warrant -they have not a jot of evidence against thee," but in a second he saw -from my face the news was not so happy, and his own face fell. - -"We are to be separated on Saturday," I told him. - -Tears came to his eyes at that--a most feeling old rogue! - -"And where is't for thee, Paul?" he asked. - -"Where is't for yourself ought to be of more importance to you, Father -Hamilton." - -"No, no," he cried, "it matters little about me, but surely for you it -cannot be Galbanon?" - -"Indeed, and it is no less." - -"Then, Paul," he said firmly, "we must break out, and that without loss -of time." - -"Is it in the plural this time?" I asked him. - -He affected an indifference, but at the last consented to share the -whole of the enterprise. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -WE ATTEMPT AN ESCAPE - -Father Hamilton was not aware of the extent of it, but he knew I was in -a correspondence with the sous-officer. More than once he had seen us in -the _salle depreuve_ in a manifest understanding of each other, -though he had no suspicion that the gentleman was a Mercury for Miss -Walkinshaw, whose name seldom, if ever, entered into our conversation -in the cell. From her I had got but one other letter--a brief -acknowledgment of some of my fullest budgets, but 'twas enough to keep -me at my diurnal on every occasion almost on which the priest slept. I -sent her (with the strictest injunction to secrecy upon so important a -matter) a great deal of the tale the priest had told me--not so much -for her entertainment as for the purpose of moving in the poor man's -interests. Especially was I anxious that she should use her influence -to have some one communicate to Father Fleuriau, who was at the time in -Bruges, how hazardous was the position of his unhappy cat's-paw, whose -state I pictured in the most moving colours I could command. There was, -it must be allowed, a risk in entrusting a document so damnatory to -any one in Bicetre, but that the packet was duly forwarded to its -destination I had every satisfaction of from the sous-officer, who -brought me an acknowledgment to that effect from Bernard the Swiss. - -The priest knew, then, as I say, that I was on certain terms with this -sous-officer, and so it was with no hesitation I informed him that, -through the favour of the latter, I had a very fair conception of -the character and plan of this building of Bicetre in which we were -interned. What I had learned of most importance to us was that the block -of which our cell was a part had a face to the main road of Paris, from -which thoroughfare it was separated by a spacious court and a long range -of iron palisades. If ever we were to make our way out of the place -it must be in this direction, for on two sides of our building we were -overlooked by buildings vastly more throng than our own, and bordered by -yards in which were constant sentinels. Our block jutted out at an angle -from one very much longer, but lower by two storeys, and the disposition -of both made it clear that to enter into this larger edifice, and -towards the gable end of it that overlooked the palisades of the Paris -road, was our most feasible method of essay. - -I drew a plan of the prison and grounds on paper, estimating as best I -might all the possible checks we were like to meet with, and leaving a -balance of chances in our favour that we could effect our purpose in a -night. - -The priest leaned his chin upon his arms as he lolled over the table on -which I eagerly explained my diagram, and sighed at one or two of the -feats of agility it assumed. There was, for example, a roof to walk -upon--the roof of the building we occupied--though how we were to get -there in the first place was still to be decided. Also there was a -descent from that roof on to the lower building at right angles, though -where the ladder or rope for this was to come from I must meanwhile -airily leave to fortune. Finally, there was--assuming we got into the -larger building, and in some unforeseeable way along its roof and clear -to the gable end--a part of the yard to cross, and the palisade to -escalade. - -"Oh, lad! thou takest me for a bird," cried his reverence, aghast at -all this. "Is thy poor fellow prisoner a sparrow? A little after this I -might do't with my own wings--the saints guide me!--but figure you that -at present I am not Philetas, the dwarf, who had to wear leaden shoes -lest the wind should blow him away. 'Twould take a wind indeed to stir -this amplitude of good humours, this sepulchre of twenty thousand good -dinners and incomputible tuns of liquid merriment. Pray, Paul, make -an account of my physical infirmities, and mitigate thy transport of -vaultings and soarings and leapings and divings, unless, indeed, thou -meditatest sewing me up in a sheet, and dragging me through the realms -of space." - -"We shall manage! we shall manage!" I insisted, now quite uplifted in a -fanciful occupation that was all to my tastes, even if nothing came -of it, and I plunged more boldly into my plans. They were favoured -by several circumstances--the first, namely, that we were not in the -uniform of the prison, and, once outside the prison, could mingle with -the world without attracting attention. Furthermore, by postponing the -attempt till the morrow night I could communicate with the Swiss, and -secure his cooperation outside in the matter of a horse or a vehicle, if -the same were called for. I did not, however, say so much as that to his -reverence, whom I did not wish as yet to know of my correspondence -with Bernard. Finally, we had an auspicious fact at the outset of our -attempt, inasmuch as the cell we were in was in the corridor next to -that of which the sous-officer had some surveillance, and I knew his -mind well enough now to feel sure he would help in anything that did not -directly involve his own position and duties. In other words, he was to -procure a copy of the key of our cell, and find a means of leaving it -unlocked when the occasion arose. - -"A copy of the key, Paul!" said Father Hamilton; "sure there are no -bounds to thy cheerful mad expectancy! But go on! go on! art sure he -could not be prevailed on--this fairy godfather--to give us an escort of -cavalry and trumpeters?" - -"This is not much of a backing-up, Father Hamilton," I said, annoyed at -his skeptic comments upon an affair that involved so much and agitated -myself so profoundly. - -"Pardon! Paul," he said hastily, confused and vexed himself at the -reproof. "Art quite right, I'm no more than a croaker, and for penance I -shall compel myself to do the wildest feat thou proposest." - -We determined to put off the attempt at escape till I had communicated -with the sous-officer (in truth, though Father Hamilton did not know -it, till I had communicated with Bernard the Swiss), and it was the -following afternoon I had not only an assurance of the unlocked door, -but in my hand a more trustworthy plan of the prison than my own, and -the promise that the Swiss would be waiting with a carriage outside the -palisades when we broke through, any time between midnight and five in -the morning. - -Next day, then, we were in a considerable agitation; to that extent -indeed that I clean forgot that we had no aid to our descent of twenty -or thirty feet (as the sous-sergeant's diagram made it) from the roof of -our block on to that of the one adjoining. We had had our minds so much -on bolted doors and armed sentinels that this detail had quite escaped -us until almost on the eve of setting out at midnight, the priest began -again to sigh about his bulk and swear no rope short of a ship's cable -would serve to bear him. - -"Rope!" I cried, in a tremendous chagrin at my stupidity. "Lord! if I -have not quite forgot it. We have none." - -"Ah!" he said, "perhaps it is not necessary. Perhaps my heart is so -light at parting with my _croque-mort_ that I can drop upon the tiles -like a pigeon." - -"Parting," I repeated, eyeing him suspiciously, for I thought perhaps he -had changed his mind again. "Who thinks of parting?" - -"Not I indeed," says he, "unless the rope do when thou hast got it." - -There was no rope, however, and I cursed my own folly that I had not -asked one from the sous-officer whose complaisance might have gone the -length of a fathom or two, though it did not, as the priest suggested, -go so far as an armed convoy and a brace of trumpeters. It was too late -now to repair the overlook, and to the making of rope the two of us had -there and then to apply ourselves, finding the sheets and blankets-of -our beds scanty enough for our purpose, and by no means of an assuring -elegance or strength when finished. But we had thirty feet of some sort -of cord at the last, and whether it was elegant or not it had to do for -our purpose. - -Luckily the night was dark as pitch and a high wind roared in the -chimneys, and in the numerous corners of the prison. There was a sting -in the air that drew many of the sentinels round the braziers flaming -in the larger yard between the main entrance and the buildings, and that -further helped our prospects; so that it was with some hope, in spite -of a heart that beat like a flail in my breast, I unlocked the door and -crept out into the dimly-lighted corridor with the priest close behind -me. - -Midway down this gallery there was a stair of which our plan apprised -us, leading to another gallery--the highest of the block--from which a -few steps led to a cock-loft where the sous-officer told us there was -one chance in a score of finding a blind window leading to the roof. - -No one, luckily, appeared as we hurried down the long gallery. I darted -like a fawn up the stair to the next flat, Father Hamilton grievously -puffing behind me, and we had just got into the shadow of the steps -leading to the cock-loft when a warder's step and the clank of his -chained keys came sounding down the corridor. He passed within three -feet of us and I felt the blood of all my body chill with fear! - -"I told thee, lad," whispered the priest, mopping the sweat from his -face, "I told thee 'twas an error to burden thyself with such a useless -carcase. Another moment or two--a gasp for the wind that seems so cursed -ill to come by at my years, and I had brought thee into trouble." - -I paid no heed to him, but crept up the steps and into the cock-loft -that smelt villainously of bats. - -The window was unfastened! I stuck out my head upon the tiles and -sniffed the fine fresh air of freedom as it had been a rare perfume. - -Luckily the window was scarcely any height, and it proved easy to aid -his reverence into the open air. Luckily, further, it was too dark -for him to realise the jeopardies of his situation for whether his -precarious gropings along the tiles were ten feet or thirty from the -yard below was indiscoverable in the darkness. He slid his weighty body -along with an honest effort that was wholly due to his regard for my -interests, because 'twas done with groans and whispered protestations -that 'twas the maddest thing for a man to leave a place where he was -happy and risk his neck in an effort to discover misery. A rime of frost -was on the tiles, and they were bitter cold to the touch. One fell, -too, below me as I slid along, and rattled loudly over its fellows and -plunged into the yard. - -Naturally we stopped dead and listened breathless, a foolish action for -one reason because in any case we had been moving silently at a great -height above the place where the tile should fall so that there was no -risk of our being heard or seen, but our listening discovered so great -an interval between the loosening of the tile and its dull shattering -on the stones below that the height on which we were perched in the -darkness was made more plain--more dreadful to the instincts than if -we could actually measure it with the eye. I confess I felt a touch -of nausea, but nothing compared with the priest, whose teeth began to -chitter in an ague of horror. - -"Good Lord, Paul!" he whispered to me, clutching my leg as I moved in -front of him, "it is the bottomless pit." - -"Not unless we drop," said I. And to cheer him up I made some foolish -joke. - -If the falling tile attracted any attention in the yard it was not -apparent to us, and five minutes later we had to brace ourselves to a -matter that sent the tile out of our minds. - -For we were come to the end of the high building, and twenty feet below -us, at right angles, we could plainly see the glow of several skylights -in the long prison to which it was attached. It was now the moment for -our descent on the extemporised rope. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -A RIMEY NIGHT ON ROOF-TOPS, AND A NEW USE FOR AN OLD KIRK BELL - -I fastened the rope about a chimney-head with some misgivings that by -the width and breadth of the same I was reducing our chance of ever -getting down to the lower building, as the knotted sheets from the -outset had been dubious measure for the thirty feet of which my -sous-officer had given the estimate. But I said never a word to the -priest of my fears on that score, and determined for once to let what -was left of honesty go before well-fattened age and test the matter -first myself. If the cord was too brief for its purpose, or (what was -just as likely) on the frail side, I could pull myself back in the one -case as the priest was certainly unfit to do, and in the other my weight -would put less strain upon it than that of Father Hamilton. - -I can hear him yet in my imagination after forty years, as he clung -to the ridge of the roof like a seal on a rock, chittering in the cold -night wind, enviously eyeing some fires that blazed in another yard and -groaning melancholiously. - -"A garden," said he, "and six beehives--no, 'faith! 'twas seven last -summer, and a roomful of books. Oh, Paul, Paul! Now I know how God cast -out Satan. He took him from his warm fireside, and his books before they -were all read, and his pantoufles, and set him straddling upon a frozen -house-top to ponder through eternal night upon the happy past. Alas, -poor being! How could he know what joys were in the simplicity of a room -of books half-read and a pair of warm old slippers?" - -He was fair rambling in his fears, my poor priest, and I declare -scarcely knew the half of what he uttered, indeed he spoke out so loudly -that I had to check him lest he should attract attention from below. - -"Father Hamilton," said I, when my cord was fastened, "with your -permission I'll try it first. I want to make it sure that my seamanship -on the sloop _Sarah_, of Ayr, has not deserted me to the extent that I -cannot come down a rope without a ratline or tie a bowling knot." - -"Certainly, Paul, certainly," said he, quite eagerly, so that I was -tempted for a second to think he gladly postponed his own descent from -sheer terror. - -I threw over the free end of the cord and crouched upon the beak of the -gable to lower myself. - -"Well, Paul," said his reverence in a broken voice. "Let us say -'good-bye' in case aught should happen ere we are on the same level -again." - -"Oh!" said I, impatient, "that's the true _croque-mort_ spirit indeed! -Why, Father, it isn't--it isn't--" I was going to say it was not a -gallows I was venturing on, but the word stuck in my throat, for a -certain thought that sprung to me of how nearly in my own case it had -been to the very gallows, and his reverence doubtless saw some delicacy, -for he came promptly to my help. - -"Not a priest's promise--made to be broken, you would say, good Paul," -said he. "I promised the merriest of jaunts over Europe in a coach, -and here my scrivener is hanging in the reins! Pardon, dear Scotland, -_milles pardons_ and good-bye and good luck." And at that he made to -embrace me. - -"Here's a French ceremony just about nothing at all," I thought, and -began my descent. The priest lay on his stomach upon the ridge. As I -sank, with my eyes turned upwards, I could see his hair blown by the -wind against a little patch of stars, that was the only break in the -Ethiopia of the sky. He seemed to follow my progress breathlessly, -and when I gained the other roof and shook the cord to tell him so he -responded by a faint clapping of his hands. - -"Art all right, lad?" he whispered down to me, and I bade him follow. - -"Good-night, Paul, good-bye, and God bless you!" he whispered. "Get out -of this as quick as you can; 'tis more than behemoth could do in a month -of dark nights, and so I cut my share of the adventure. One will do't -when two (and one of them a hogshead) will die in trying to do't." - -Here was a pretty pickle! The man's ridiculous regard for my safety -outweighed his natural inclinations, though his prospects in the prison -of Bicetre were blacker than my own, having nothing less dreadful than -an execution at the end of them. He had been merely humouring me so -far--and such a brave humouring in one whose flesh was in a quaking of -alarms all the time he slid along the roof! - -"Are you not coming?" I whispered. - -"On the contrary, I'm going, dear Paul," said he with a pretence at -levity. "Going back to my comfortable cell and my uniformed servant and -M. Buhot, the charmingest of hostellers, and I declare my feet are like -ice." - -"Then," said I firmly, "I go back too. I'll be eternally cursed if I -give up my situation as scrivener at this point. I must e'en climb up -again." And with that I prepared to start the ascent. - -"Stop! stop!" said he without a second's pause, "stop where you are and -I'll go down. Though 'tis the most stupendous folly," he added with a -sigh, and in a moment later I saw his vast bulk laboriously heaving -over the side of the roof. Fortunately the knots in the cord where -the fragments of sheet and blanket were joined made his task not so -difficult as it had otherwise been, and almost as speedily as I had done -it myself he reached the roof of the lower building, though in such a -state he quivered like a jelly, and was dumb with fear or with exertion -when the thing was done. - -"Ah!" he said at last, when he had recovered himself. "Art a fool to be -so particular about an old carcase accursed of easy humours and accused -of regicide. Take another thought on't, Paul. What have you to do with -this wretch of a priest that brought about the whole trouble in your -ignorance? And think of Galbanon!" - -"Think of the devil! Father Hamilton," I snapped at him, "every minute -we waste havering away here adds to the chances against any of us -getting free, and I am sure that is not your desire. The long and the -short of it is that I'll not stir a step out of Bicetre--no, not if the -doors themselves were open--unless you consent to come with me." - -"_Ventre Dieu!_" said he, "'tis just such a mulish folly as I might have -looked for from the nephew of Andrew Greig. But lead on, good imbecile, -lead on, and blame not poor Father Hamilton if the thing ends in a -fiasco!" - -We now crawled along a roof no whit more easily traversed than that -we had already commanded. Again and again I had to stop to permit my -companion to come up on me, for the pitch of the tiles was steep, and -he in a peril from his own lubricity, and it was necessary even to put -a hand under his arm at times when he suffered a vertigo through seeing -the lights in the yard deep down as points of flame. - -"Egad! boy," he said, and his perspiring hand clutching mine at one of -our pauses, "I thrill at the very entrails. I'd liefer have my nose in -the sawdust any day than thrash through thin air on to a paving-stone." - -"A minute or two more and we are there," I answered him. - -"Where?" said he, starting; "in purgatory?" - -"Look up, man!" I told him. "There's a window beaming ten yards off." -And again I pushed on. - -In very truth there was no window, though I prayed as fervently for one -as it had been a glimpse of paradise, but I was bound to cozen the -old man into effort for his own life and for mine. What I had from the -higher building taken for the glow of skylights had been really the -light of windows on the top flat of the other prison block, and its -roof was wholly unbroken. At least I had made up my mind to that with -a despair benumbing when I touched wood. My fingers went over it in the -dark with frantic eagerness. It was a trap such as we had come out of at -the other block, but it was shut. Before the priest could come up to me -and suffer the fresh horror of disappointment I put my weight upon it, -and had the good fortune to throw it in. The flap fell with a shriek of -hinges and showed gaping darkness. We stretched upon the tiles as close -as limpets and as silent. Nothing stirred within. - -"A garden," said he in a little, "as sweet as ever bean grew in, with -the rarest plum-tree; and now I am so cold." - -"I could be doing with some of your complaint," said I; "as for me, I'm -on fire. Please heaven, you'll be back in the garden again." - -I lowered myself within, followed by the priest, and found we were -upon the rafters. A good bit off there was a beam of light that led us, -groping, and in an imminent danger of going through the plaster, to -an air-hole over a little gallery whose floor was within stretch as I -lowered myself again. - -Father Hamilton squeezed after me; we both looked over the edge of the -gallery, and found it was a chapel we were in! - -"_Sacre nom!_" said the priest and crossed himself, with a genuflexion -to the side of the altar. - -"Oh, Lord! Paul," he said, whispering, "if 'twere the Middle Ages, and -this were indeed a sanctuary, how happy was a poor undeserving son of -Mother Church! Even Dagobert's hounds drew back from the stag in St. -Denys." - -It was a mean interior, as befitted the worship of the _miserables_ who -at times would meet there. A solemn quiet held the place, that seemed -wholly deserted; the dim light that had shown through the air-hole and -guided us came from some candles dripping before a shrine. - -"Heaven help us!" said the priest. "I know just such another." - -There was nobody in the church so far as we could observe from the -little gallery in which we found ourselves, but when we had gone down a -flight of steps into the body of the same, and made to cross towards the -door, we were suddenly confronted by a priest in a white cope. My heart -jumped to my mouth; I felt a prinkling in the roots of my hair, and -stopped dumb, with all my faculties basely deserted from me. Luckily -Father Hamilton kept his presence of mind. As he told me later, he -remembered of a sudden the Latin proverb that in battles the eye is -first overcome, and he fixed the man in the stole with a glance that was -bold and disconcerting. As it happened, however, the other priest was -almost as blind as a bat, and saw but two civil worshippers in his -chapel. He did not even notice that it was a _soutane_; he passed -peeringly, with a bow to our inclinations, and it was almost -incredulous of our good fortune I darted out of the chapel into the -darkness of a courtyard of equal extent with that I had crossed on the -night of my first arrival at Bicetre. At its distant end there were the -same flaming braziers with figures around them, and the same glitter of -arms. - -Now this Bicetre is set upon a hill and commands a prospect of the city -of Paris, of the Seine and its environs. For that reason we could see -to our right the innumerable lights of a great plain twinkling in the -darkness, and it seemed as if we had only to proceed in that direction -to secure freedom by the mere effort of walking. As we stood in the -shadow of the chapel, Father Hamilton eyed the distant prospect of the -lighted town with a singular rapture. - -"Paris!" said he. "Oh, Dieu! and I thought never to clap an eye on't -again. Paris, my Paul! Behold the lights of it--_la ville lumiere_ that -is so fine I could spend eternity in it. Hearts are there, lad, kind and -jocund-" - -"And meditating a descent on unhappy Britain," said I. - -"Good neighbourly hearts, or I'm a gourd else," he went on, unheeding my -interruption. "The stars in heaven are not so good, are no more notably -the expression of a glowing and fraternal spirit. There is laughter in -the streets of her." - -"Not at this hour, Father Hamilton," said I, and the both of us always -whispering. "I've never seen the place by day nor put a foot in it, -but it will be droll indeed if there is laughter in its streets at two -o'clock in the morning." - -"Ah, Paul, shall we ever get there?" said he longingly. "We can but try, -anyway. I certainly did not come all this way, Father Hamilton, just to -look on the lowe of Paris." - -What had kept us shrinking in the shadow of the chapel wall had been -the sound of footsteps between us and the palisades that were to be -distinguished a great deal higher than I had expected, on our right. -On the other side of the rails was freedom, as well as Paris that so -greatly interested my companion, but the getting clear of them seemed -like to be a more difficult task than any we had yet overcome, and all -the more hazardous because the footsteps obviously suggested a -sentinel. Whether it was the rawness of the night that tempted him to -a relaxation, or whether he was not strictly on duty, I know not, but, -while we stood in the most wretched of quandaries, the man who was in -our path very soon ceased his perambulation along the palisades, and -went over to one of the distant fires, passing within a few yards of us -as we crouched in the darkness. When he had gone sufficiently out of the -way we ran for it. So plain were the lights of the valley, so flimsy a -thing had seemed to part us from the high-road there, that never a doubt -intruded on my mind that now we were as good as free, and when I came -to the rails I beat my head with my hands when the nature of our folly -dawned upon me. - -"We may just go back," I said to the priest in a stricken voice. - -"_Comment?_" said he, wiping his brow and gloating on the spectacle of -the lighted town. - -"Look," I said, indicating the railings that were nearly three times my -own height, "there are no convenient trap-doors here." - -"But the cord--" said he simply. - -"Exactly," I said; "the cord's where we left it snugly tied with a -bowling knot to the chimney of our block, and I'm an ass." - -"Oh, poor Paul!" said the priest in a prostration at this divulgence of -our error. "I'm the millstone on your neck, for had I not parleyed at -the other end of the cord when you had descended, the necessity for it -would never have escaped your mind. I gave you fair warning, lad, 'twas -a quixotic imbecility to burden yourself with me. And are we really at -a stand? God! look at Paris. Had I not seen these lights I had not -cared for myself a straw, but, oh lord! lad, they are so pleasant and so -close! Why will the world sleep when two unhappy wretches die for want -of a little bit of hemp?" - -"You are not to blame," said I, "one rope was little use to us in any -case. But anyhow I do not desire to die of a little bit of hemp if I can -arrange it better." And I began hurriedly to scour up and down the -palisade like a trapped mouse. It extended for about a hundred yards, -ending at one side against the walls of a gate-house or lodge; on the -other side it concluded at the wall of the chapel. It had no break in -all its expanse, and so there was nothing left for us to do but to go -back the way we had come, obliterate the signs of our attempt and find -our cells again. We went, be sure, with heavy hearts, again ventured -into the chapel, climbed the stairs, went through the ceiling, and -stopped a little among the rafters to rest his reverence who was finding -these manoeuvres too much for his weighty body. While he sat regaining -sufficient strength to resume his crawling on rimey tiles I made a -search of the loft we were in and found it extended to the gable end of -the chapel, but nothing more for my trouble beyond part of a hanging -chain that came through the roof and passed through the ceiling. I had -almost missed it in the darkness, and even when I touched it my first -thought was to leave it alone. But I took a second thought and tried the -lower end, which came up as I hauled, yard upon yard, until I had the -end of it, finished with a bell-ringer's hempen grip, in my hands. Here -was a discovery if bell-pulls had been made of rope throughout in -Bicetre prison! But a chain with an end to a bell was not a thing to be -easily borrowed. - -I went back to where Father Hamilton was seated on the rafters, and told -him my discovery. - -"A bell," said he. "Faith! I never liked them. Pestilent inventions of -the enemy, that suggested duties to be done and the fleeting hours. But -a bell-rope implies a belfry on the roof and a bell in it, and the -chain that may reach the ground within the building may reach the same -desirable place without the same." - -"That's very true," said I, struck with the thing. And straight got -through the trap and out upon the roof again. Father Hamilton puffed -after me and in a little we came upon a structure like a dovecot at the -very gable-end. "The right time to harry a nest is at night," said I, -"for then you get all that's in it." And I started to pull up the chain -that was fastened to the bell. - -I lowered behemoth with infinite exertion till he reached the ground -outside the prison grounds in safety, wrapped the clapper of the bell in -my waistcoat, and descended hand over hand after him. - -We were on the side of a broad road that dipped down the hill into a -little village. Between us and the village street, across which hung a -swinging lamp, there mounted slowly a carriage with a pair of horses. - -"Bernard!" I cried, running up to it, and found it was the Swiss in the -very article of waiting for us, and he speedily drove us into Paris. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -WE ENTER PARIS AND FIND A SANCTUARY THERE - -Of the town of Paris that is so lamentably notable in these days I have -but the recollection that one takes away from a new scene witnessed -under stress of mind due to matters more immediately affecting him than -the colour, shape, and properties of things seen, and the thought I had -in certain parts of it is more clear to me to-day than the vision of the -place itself. It is, in my mind, like a fog that the bridges thundered -as our coach drove over them with our wretched fortunes on that early -morning of our escape from Bicetre, but as clear as when it sprung to -me from the uproar of the wheels comes back the dread that the whole of -this community would be at their windows looking out to see what folks -untimeously disturbed their rest. We were delayed briefly at a gate upon -the walls; I can scarcely mind what manner of men they were that stopped -us and thrust a lantern in our faces, and what they asked eludes me -altogether, but I mind distinctly how I gasped relief when we were -permitted to roll on. Blurred, too--no better than the surplusage of -dreams, is my first picture of the river and its isles in the dawn, but, -like a favourite song, I mind the gluck of waters on the quays and that -they made me think of Earn and Cart and Clyde. - -We stopped in the place of the Notre Dame at the corner of a street; -the coach drove off to a _remise_ whence it had come, and we went to an -hospital called the Hotel Dieu, in the neighbourhood, where Hamilton had -a Jesuit friend in one of the heads, and where we were accommodated in -a room that was generally set aside for clergymen. It was a place of the -most wonderful surroundings, this Hotel Dieu, choked, as it were, among -towers, the greatest of them those of Our Lady itself that were in -the Gothic taste, regarding which Father Hamilton used to say, "_Dire -gothique, c'est dire mauvais gout_," though, to tell the truth, I -thought the building pretty braw myself. Alleys and wynds were round -about us, and so narrow that the sky one saw between them was but a -ribbon by day, while at night they seemed no better than ravines. - -'Twas at night I saw most of the city, for only in the darkness did -I dare to venture out of the Hotel Dieu. Daundering my lone along the -cobbles, I took a pleasure in the exercise of tenanting these towering -lands with people having histories little different from the histories -of the folks far off in my Scottish home--their daughters marrying, -their sons going throughither (as we say), their bairns wakening and -crying in their naked beds, and grannies sitting by the ingle-neuk -cheerfully cracking upon ancient days. Many a time in the by-going I -looked up their pend closes seeking the eternal lovers of our own burgh -towns and never finding them, for I take it that in love the foreign -character is coyer than our own. But no matter how eagerly I went forth -upon my nightly airing in a _roquelaure_ borrowed from Father Hamilton's -friend, the adventure always ended, for me, in a sort of eerie terror -of those close-hemming walls, those tangled lanes where slouched the -outcast and the ne'er-do-weel, and not even the glitter of the moon upon -the river between its laden isles would comfort me. - -"La! la! la!" would Father Hamilton cry at me when I got home with a face -like a fiddle. "Art the most ridiculous rustic ever ate a cabbage or -set foot in Arcady. Why, man! the woman must be wooed--this Mademoiselle -Lutetia. Must take her front and rear, walk round her, ogling bravely. -Call her dull! call her dreadful! _Ciel!_ Has the child never an eye in -his mutton head? I avow she is the queen of the earth this Paris. If I -were young and wealthy I'd buy the glittering stars in constellations -and turn them into necklets for her. With thy plaguey gift of the sonnet -I'd deave her with ecstasies and spill oceans of ink upon leagues -of paper to tell her about her eyes. Go to! Scotland, go to! Ghosts! -ghosts! devil the thing else but ghosts in thy rustic skull, for to take -a fear of Lutetia when her black hair is down of an evening and thou -canst not get a glimpse of that beautiful neck that is rounded like the -same in the Psyche of Praxiteles. Could I pare off a portion of this -rotundity and go out in a masque as Apollo I'd show thee things." - -And all he saw of Paris himself was from the windows of the hospital, -where he and I would stand by the hour looking out into the square. -For the air itself he had to take it in a little garden at the back, -surrounded by a high wall, and affording a seclusion that even the -priest could avail himself of without the hazard of discovery. He used -to sit in an arbour there in the warmth of the day, and it was there -I saw another trait of his character that helped me much to forget his -shortcomings. - -Over his head, within the doorway of the bower, he hung a box and placed -therein the beginnings of a bird's nest. The thing was not many hours -done when a pair of birds came boldly into his presence as he sat -silent and motionless in the bower, and began to avail themselves of so -excellent a start in householding. In a few days there were eggs in the -nest, and 'twas the most marvellous of spectacles to witness the hen sit -content upon them over the head of the fat man underneath, and the cock, -without concern, fly in and out attentive on his mate. - -But, indeed, the man was the friend of all helpless things, and few of -the same came his way without an instinct that told them it was so. Not -the birds in the nest alone were at ease in his society; he had but -to walk along the garden paths whistling and chirping, and there came -flights of birds about his head and shoulders, and some would even perch -upon his hand. I have never seen him more like his office than when he -talked with the creatures of the air, unless it was on another occasion -when two bairns, the offspring of an inmate in the hospital, ventured -into the garden, finding there another child, though monstrous, who had -not lost the key to the fields where blossom the flowers of infancy, and -frolic is a prayer. - -But he dare not set a foot outside the walls of our retreat, for it was -as useless to hide Ballageich under a Kilmarnock bonnet as to seek a -disguise for his reverence in any suit of clothes. Bernard would come to -us rarely under cover of night, but alas! there were no letters for me -now, and mine that were sent through him were fewer than before. -And there was once an odd thing happened that put an end to these -intromissions; a thing that baffled me to understand at the time, and -indeed for many a day thereafter, but was made plain to me later on in -a manner that proved how contrary in his character was this mad priest, -that was at once assassin and the noblest friend. - -Father Hamilton was not without money, though all had been taken from -him at Bicetre. It was an evidence of the width and power of the Jesuit -movement that even in the Hotel Dieu he could command what sums he -needed, and Bernard was habituated to come to him for moneys that might -pay for himself and the coachman and the horses at the _remise_. On -the last of these occasions I took the chance to slip a letter for Miss -Walkinshaw into his hand. Instead of putting it in his pocket he laid it -down a moment on a table, and he and I were busy packing linen for the -wash when a curious cry from Father Hamilton made us turn to see him -with the letter in his hand. - -He was gazing with astonishment on the direction. - -"Ah!" said he, "and so my Achilles is not consoling himself exclusively -with the Haemonian lyre, but has taken to that far more dangerous -instrument the pen. The pen, my child, is the curse of youth. When we -are young we use it for our undoing, and for the facture of regrets -for after years--even if it be no more than the reading of our wives' -letters that I'm told are a bitter revelation to the married man. And -so--and so, Monsieur Croque-mort keeps up a correspondence with the -lady. H'm!" He looked so curiously and inquiringly at me that I felt -compelled to make an explanation. - -"It is quite true, Father Hamilton," said I. "After all, you gave me so -little clerkly work that I was bound to employ my pen somehow, and how -better than with my countrywoman?" - -"'Tis none of my affair--perhaps," he said, laying down the letter. -"And yet I have a curiosity. Have we here the essential Mercury?" and he -indicated Bernard who seemed to me to have a greater confusion than the -discovery gave a cause for. - -"Bernard has been good enough," said I. "You discover two Scots, Father -Hamilton, in a somewhat sentimental situation. The lady did me the -honour to be interested in my little travels, and I did my best to keep -her informed." - -He turned away as he had been shot, hiding his face, but I saw from his -neck that he had grown as white as parchment. - -"What in the world have I done?" thinks I, and concluded that he -was angry for my taking the liberty to use the dismissed servant as a -go-between. In a moment or two he turned about again, eying me closely, -and at last he put his hand upon my shoulder as a schoolmaster might do -upon a boy's. - -"My good Paul," said he, "how old are you?" - -"Twenty-one come Martinmas," I said. - -"Expiscate! elucidate! 'Come Martinmas,'" says he, "and what does that -mean? But no matter--twenty-one says my barbarian; sure 'tis a right -young age, a very baby of an age, an age in frocks if one that has it -has lived the best of his life with sheep and bullocks." - -"Sir," I said, indignant, "I was in very honest company among the same -sheep and bullocks." - -"Hush!" said he, and put up his hand, eying me with compassion and -kindness. "If thou only knew it, lad, thou art due me a civil attention -at the very least. Sure there is no harm in my mentioning that thou art -mighty ingenuous for thy years. 'Tis the quality I would be the last -to find fault with, but sometimes it has its inconveniences. -And Bernard"--he turned to the Swiss who was still greatly -disturbed--"Bernard is a somewhat older gentleman. Perhaps he will -say--our good Bernard--if he was the person I have to thank for taking -the sting out of the wasp, for extracting the bullet from my pistol? Ah! -I see he is the veritable person. Adorable Bernard, let that stand to -his credit!" - -Then Bernard fell trembling like a saugh tree, and protested he did but -what he was told. - -"And a good thing, too," said the priest, still very pale but with no -displeasure. "And a good thing too, else poor Buhot, that I have seen an -infinity of headachy dawns with, had been beyond any interest in cards -or prisoners. For that I shall forgive you the rest that I can guess at. -Take Monsieur Grog's letter where you have taken the rest, and be gone." - -The Swiss went out much crestfallen from an interview that was beyond my -comprehension. - -When he was gone Father Hamilton fell into a profound meditation, -walking up and down his room muttering to himself. - -"Faith, I never had such a problem presented to me before," said he, -stopping his walk; "I know not whether to laugh or swear. I feel that -I have been made a fool of, and yet nothing better could have happened. -And so my Croque-mort, my good Monsieur Propriety, has been writing the -lady? I should not wonder if he thought she loved him." - -"Nothing so bold," I cried. "You might without impropriety have seen -every one of my letters, and seen in them no more than a seaman's log." - -"A seaman's log!" said he, smiling faintly and rubbing his massive chin; -"nothing would give the lady more delight, I am sure. A seaman's log! -And I might have seen them without impropriety, might I? That I'll swear -was what her ladyship took very good care to obviate. Come now, did she -not caution thee against telling me of this correspondence?" - -I confessed it was so; that the lady naturally feared she might be made -the subject of light talk, and I had promised that in that respect she -should suffer nothing for her kindly interest in a countryman. - -The priest laughed consumedly at this. - -"Interest in her countryman!" said he. "Oh, lad, wilt be the death of me -for thy unexpected spots of innocence." - -"And as to that," I said, "you must have had a sort of correspondence -with her yourself." - -"I!" said he. "_Comment!_" - -"To be quite frank with you," said I, "it has been the cause of some -vexatious thoughts to me that the letter I carried to the Prince was -directed in Miss Walkinshaw's hand of write, and as Buhot informed me, -it was the same letter that was to wile his Royal Highness to his fate -in the Rue des Reservoirs." Father Hamilton groaned, as he did at any -time the terrible affair was mentioned. - -"It is true, Paul, quite true," said he, "but the letter was a forgery. -I'll give the lady the credit to say she never had a hand in it." - -"I am glad to hear that, for it removes some perplexities that have -troubled me for a while back." - -"Ah," said he, "and your perplexities and mine are not over even now, -poor Paul. This Bernard is like to be the ruin of me yet. For you, -however, I have no fear, but it is another matter with the poor old fool -from Dixmunde." - -His voice broke, he displayed thus and otherwise so troubled a mind and -so great a reluctance to let me know the cause of it that I thought it -well to leave him for a while and let him recover his old manner. - -To that end I put on my coat and hat and went out rather earlier than -usual for my evening walk. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -THE MAN WITH THE TARTAN WAISTCOAT - -It was the first of May. But for Father Hamilton's birds, and some -scanty signs of it in the small garden, the lengthened day and the -kindlier air of the evenings, I might never have known what season it -was out of the almanac, for all seasons were much the same, no doubt, in -the Isle of the City where the priest and I sequestered. 'Twas ever the -shade of the tenements there; the towers of the churches never greened -nor budded; I would have waited long, in truth, for the scent of the -lilac and the chatter of the rook among these melancholy temples. - -Till that night I had never ventured farther from the gloomy vicinity of -the hospital than I thought I could safely retrace without the necessity -of asking any one the way; but this night, more courageous, or perhaps -more careless than usual, I crossed the bridge of Notre Dame and found -myself in something like the Paris of the priest's rhapsodies and the -same all thrilling with the passion of the summer. It was not flower nor -tree, though these were not wanting, but the spirit in the air--young -girls laughing in the by-going with merriest eyes, windows wide open -letting out the sounds of songs, the pavements like a river with -zesty life of Highland hills when the frosts above are broken and the -overhanging boughs have been flattering it all the way in the valleys. - -I was fair infected. My step, that had been unco' dull and heavy, I -fear, and going to the time of dirges on the Isle, went to a different -tune; my being rhymed and sang. I had got the length of the Rue de -Richelieu and humming to myself in the friendliest key, with the -good-natured people pressing about me, when of a sudden it began to -rain. There was no close in the neighbourhood where I could shelter from -the elements, but in front of me was the door of a tavern called the -Tete du Duc de Burgoyne shining with invitation, and in I went. - -A fat wife sat at a counter; a pot-boy, with a cry of "V'ia!" that was -like a sheep's complaining, served two ancient citizens in skull-caps -that played the game of dominoes, and he came to me with my humble order -of a litre of ordinary and a piece of bread for the good of the house. - -Outside the rain pelted, and the folks upon the pavement ran, and -by-and-by the tavern-room filled up with shelterers like myself and kept -the pot-boy busy. Among the last to enter was a group of five that took -a seat at another corner of the room than that where I sat my lone at a -little table. At first I scarcely noticed them until I heard a word -of Scots. I think the man that used it spoke of "gully-knives," but at -least the phrase was the broadest lallands, and went about my heart. - -I put down my piece of bread and looked across the room in wonder to see -that three of the men were gazing intently at myself. The fourth was -hid by those in front of him; the fifth that had spoken had a tartan -waistcoat and eyes that were like a gled's, though they were not on me. -In spite of that, 'twas plain that of me he spoke, and that I was the -object of some speculation among them. - -No one that has not been lonely in a foreign town, and hungered for -communion with those that know his native tongue, can guess how much I -longed for speech with this compatriot that in dress and eye and accent -brought back the place of my nativity in one wild surge of memory. -Every bawbee in my pocket would not have been too much to pay for such -a privilege, but it might not be unless the overtures came from the -persons in the corner. - -Very deliberately, though all in a commotion within, I ate my piece and -drank my wine before the stare of the three men, and at last, on the -whisper of one of them, another produced a box of dice. - -"No, no!" said the man with the tartan waistcoat hurriedly, with a -glance from the tail of his eye at me, but they persisted in their -purpose and began to throw. My countryman in tartan got the last chance, -of which he seemed reluctant to avail himself till the one unseen said: -"_Vous avez le de'_, Kilbride." - -Kilbride! the name was the call of whaups at home upon the moors! - -He laughed, shook, and tossed carelessly, and then the laugh was all -with them, for whatever they had played for he had seemingly lost and -the dice were now put by. - -He rose somewhat confused, looked dubiously across at me with a -reddening face, and then came over with his hat in his hand. - -"Pardon, Monsieur," he began; then checked the French, and said: "Have I -a countryman here?" - -"It is like enough," said I, with a bow and looking at his tartan. "I am -from Scotland myself." - -He smiled at that with a look of some relief and took a vacant chair on -the other side of my small table. - -"I have come better speed with my impudence," said he in the Hielan' -accent, "than I expected or deserved. My name's Kilbride--MacKellar of -Kilbride--and I am here with another Highland gentleman of the name of -Grant and two or three French friends we picked up at the door of the -play-house. Are you come off the Highlands, if I make take the liberty?" - -"My name is lowland," said I, "and I hail from the shire of Renfrew." - -"Ah," said he, with a vanity that was laughable. "What a pity! I wish -you had been Gaelic, but of course you cannot help it being otherwise, -and indeed there are many estimable persons in the lowlands." - -"And a great wheen of Highland gentlemen very glad to join them there -too," said I, resenting the implication. - -"Of course, of course," said he heartily. "There is no occasion for -offence." - -"Confound the offence, Mr. MacKellar!" said I. "Do you not think I am -just too glad at this minute to hear a Scottish tongue and see a tartan -waistcoat? Heilan' or Lowlan', we are all the same" when our feet are -off the heather. - -"Not exactly," he corrected, "but still and on we understand each other. -You must be thinking it gey droll, sir, that a band of strangers in a -common tavern would have the boldness to stare at you like my friends -there, and toss a dice about you in front of your face, but that is the -difference between us. If I had been in your place I would have thrown -the jug across at them, but here I am not better nor the rest, because -the dice fell to me, and I was one that must decide the wadger." - -"Oh, and was I the object of a wadger?" said I, wondering what we were -coming to. - -"Indeed, and that you were," said he shamefacedly, "and I'm affronted -to tell it. But when Grant saw you first he swore you were a countryman, -and there was some difference of opinion." - -"And what, may I ask, did Kilbride side with?" - -"Oh," said he promptly, "I had never a doubt about that. I knew you were -Scots, but what beat me was to say whether you were Hielan' or Lowlan'." -"And how, if it's a fair question, did you come to the conclusion that I -was a countryman of any sort?" said I. - -He laughed softly, and "Man," said he, "I could never make any mistake -about that, whatever of it. There's many a bird that's like the -woodcock, but the woodcock will aye be kennin' which is which, as the -other man said. Thae bones were never built on bread and wine. It's a -French coat you have there, and a cockit hat (by your leave), but to my -view you were as plainly from Scotland as if you had a blue bonnet on -your head and a sprig of heather in your lapels. And here am I giving -you the strange cow's welcome (as the other man said), and that is all -inquiry and no information. You must just be excusing our bit foolish -wadger, and if the proposal would come favourably from myself, that is -of a notable family, though at present under a sort of cloud, as the -other fellow said, I would be proud to have you share in the bottle of -wine that was dependent upon Grant's impudent wadger. I can pass my word -for my friends there that they are all gentry like ourselves--of the -very best, in troth, though not over-nice in putting this task on -myself." - -I would have liked brawly to spend an hour out any company than my own, -but the indulgence was manifestly one involving the danger of discovery; -it was, as I told myself, the greatest folly to be sitting in a tavern -at all, so MacKellar's manner immediately grew cold when he saw a -swithering in my countenance. - -"Of course," said he, reddening and rising, "of course, every gentleman -has his own affairs, and I would be the last to make a song of it if -you have any dubiety about my friends and me. I'll allow the thing looks -very like a gambler's contrivance." - -"No, no, Mr. MacKellar," said I hurriedly, unwilling to let us part -like that, "I'm swithering here just because I'm like yoursel' of it and -under a cloud of my own." - -"Dod! Is that so?" said he quite cheerfully again, and clapping down, -"then I'm all the better pleased that the thing that made the roebuck -swim the loch--and that's necessity--as the other man said, should have -driven me over here to precognosce you. But when you say you are under -a cloud, that is to make another way of it altogether, and I will not be -asking you over, for there is a gentleman there among the five of us who -might be making trouble of it." - -"Have you a brother in Glasgow College?" says I suddenly, putting a -question that had been in my mind ever since he had mentioned his name. - -"Indeed, and I have that," said he quickly, "but now he is following the -law in Edinburgh, where I am in the hopes it will be paying him better -than ever it paid me that has lost two fine old castles and the best -part of a parish by the same. You'll not be sitting there and telling me -surely that you know my young brother Alasdair?" - -"Man! him and me lodged together in Lucky Grant's, in Crombie's Land in -the High Street, for two Sessions," said I. - -"What!" said MacKellar. "And you'll be the lad that snow-balled the -bylie, and your name will be Greig?" - -As he said it he bent to look under the table, then drew up suddenly -with a startled face and a whisper of a whistle on his lips. - -"My goodness!" said he, in a cautious tone, "and that beats all. You'll -be the lad that broke jyle with the priest that shot at Buhot, and there -you are, you _amadain_, like a gull with your red brogues on you, crying -'come and catch me' in two languages. I'm telling you to keep thae feet -of yours under this table till we're out of here, if it should be the -morn's morning. No--that's too long, for by the morn's morning Buhot's -men will be at the Hotel Dieu, and the end of the story will be little -talk and the sound of blows, as the other man said." - -Every now and then as he spoke he would look over his shoulder with a -quick glance at his friends--a very anxious man, but no more anxious -than Paul Greig. - -"Mercy on us!" said I, "do you tell me you ken all that?" - -"I ken a lot more than that," said he, "but that's the latest of my -budget, and I'm giving it to you for the sake of the shoes and my -brother Alasdair, that is a writer in Edinburgh. There's not two -Scotchmen drinking a bowl in Paris town this night that does not ken -your description, and it's kent by them at the other table there--where -better?--but because you have that coat on you that was surely made for -you when you were in better health, as the other man said, and because -your long trams of legs and red shoes are under the table there's none -of them suspects you. And now that I'm thinking of it, I would not go -near the hospital place again." - -"Oh! but the priest's there," said I, "and it would never do for me to be -leaving him there without a warning." - -"A warning!" said MacKellar with contempt. "I'm astonished to hear you, -Mr. Greig. The filthy brock that he is!" - -"If you're one of the Prince's party," said I, "and it has every look of -it, or, indeed, whether you are or not, I'll allow you have some cause -to blame Father Hamilton, but as for me, I'm bound to him because we -have been in some troubles together." - -"What's all this about 'bound to him'?" said MacKellar with a kind of -sneer. "The dog that's tethered with a black pudding needs no pity, as -the other man said, and I would leave this fellow to shift for himself." - -"Thank you," said I, "but I'll not be doing that." - -"Well, well," said he, "it's your business, and let me tell you that -you're nothing but a fool to be tangled up with the creature. That's -Kilbride's advice to you. Let me tell you this more of it, that they're -not troubling themselves much about you at all now that you have given -them the information." - -"Information!" I said with a start. "What do you mean by that?" - -He prepared to join his friends, with a smile of some slyness, and gave -me no satisfaction on the point. - -"You'll maybe ken best yourself," said he, "and I'm thinking your -name will have to be Robertson and yourself a decent Englishman for my -friends on the other side of the room there. Between here and yonder -I'll have to be making up a bonny lie or two that will put them off the -scent of you." - -A bonny lie or two seemed to serve the purpose, for their interest in me -appeared to go no further, and by-and-by, when it was obvious that there -would be no remission of the rain, they rose to go. - -The last that went out of the door turned on the threshold and looked at -me with a smile of recognition and amusement. - -It was Buhot! - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -WHEREIN THE PRIEST LEAVES ME, AND I MAKE AN INLAND VOYAGE - -What this marvel betokened was altogether beyond my comprehension, but -the five men were no sooner gone than I clapped on my hat and drew up -the collar of my coat and ran like fury through the plashing streets for -the place that was our temporary home. It must have been an intuition of -the raised that guided me; my way was made without reflection on it, -at pure hazard, and yet I landed through a multitude of winding and -bewildering streets upon the Isle of the City and in front of the Hotel -Dieu in a much shorter time than it had taken me to get from there to -the Duke of Burgundy's Head. - -I banged past the doorkeeper, jumped upstairs to the clergyman's -quarters, threw open the door and--found Father Hamilton was gone! - -About the matter there could be no manner of dubiety, for he had left a -letter directed to myself upon the drawers-head. - -"My Good Paul (said the epistle, that I have kept till now as a memorial -of my adventure): When you return you will discover from this that I -have taken leave _a l'anglaise_, and I fancy I can see my secretary -looking like the arms of Bourges (though that is an unkind imputation). -'Tis fated, seemingly, that there shall be no rest for the sole of -the foot of poor Father Hamilton. I had no sooner got to like a loose -collar, and an unbuttoned vest, and the seclusion of a cell, than I must -be plucked out; and now when my birds--the darlings!--are on the very -point of hatching I must make adieux. _Oh! la belle equipee!_ M. Buhot -knows where I am--that's certain, so I must remove myself, and this time -I do not propose to burden M. Paul Greig with my company, for it will -be a miracle if they fail to find me. As for my dear Croque-mort, he can -have the glass coach and Jacques and Bernard, and doubtless the best -he can do with them is to take all to Dunkerque and leave them there. -I myself, I go _sans trompette_, and no inquiries will discover to him -where I go." - -As a postscript he added, "And 'twas only a sailor's log, dear lad! My -poor young Paul!" When I read the letter I was puzzled tremendously, and -at first I felt inclined to blame the priest for a scurvy flitting to -rid himself of my society, but a little deliberation convinced me that -no such ignoble consideration was at the bottom of his flight. If I read -his epistle aright the step he took was in my own interest, though how -it could be so there was no surmising. In any case he was gone; his -friend in the hospital told me he had set out behind myself, and taken -a candle with him and given a farewell visit to his birds, and almost -cried about them and about myself, and then departed for good to conceal -himself, in some other part of the city, probably, but exactly where -his friend had no way of guessing. And it was a further evidence of the -priest's good feeling to myself (if such were needed) that he had left a -sum of a hundred livres for me towards the costs of my future movements. - -I left the Hotel Dieu at midnight to wander very melancholy about the -streets for a time, and finally came out upon the river's bank, where -some small vessels hung at a wooden quay. I saw them in moonlight (for -now the rain was gone), and there rose in me such a feeling as I had -often experienced as a lad in another parish than the Mearns, to see the -road that led from strangeness past my mother's door. The river seemed a -pathway out of mystery and discontent to the open sea, and the open sea -was the same that beat about the shores of Britain, and my thought -took flight there and then to Britain, but stopped for a space, like a -wearied bird, upon the town Dunkerque. There is one who reads this -who will judge kindly, and pardon when I say that I felt a sort of -tenderness for the lady there, who was not only my one friend in France, -so far as I could guess, but, next to my mother, the only woman who knew -my shame and still retained regard for me. And thinking about Scotland -and about Dunkerque, and seeing that watery highway to them both, I was -seized with a great repugnance for the city I stood in, and felt that -I must take my feet from there at once. Father Hamilton was lost to me: -that was certain. I could no more have found him in this tanglement -of streets and strange faces than I could have found a needle in a -haystack, and I felt disinclined to make the trial. Nor was I prepared -to avail myself of his offer of the coach and horses, for to go -travelling again in them would be to court Bicetre anew. - -There was a group of busses or barges at the quay, as I have said, all -huddled together as it were animals seeking warmth, with their bows -nuzzling each other, and on one of them there were preparations being -made for her departure. A cargo of empty casks was piled up in her, -lights were being hung up at her bow and stern, and one of her crew was -ashore in the very act of casting off her ropes. At a flash it occurred -to me that I had here the safest and the speediest means of flight. - -I ran at once to the edge of the quay and clumsily propounded a question -as to where the barge was bound for. - -"Rouen or thereabouts," said the master. - -I asked if I could have a passage, and chinked my money in my pocket. - -My French might have been but middling, but Lewis d'Or talks in a -language all can understand. - -Ten minutes later we were in the fairway of the river running down -through the city which, in that last look I was ever fated to have of -it, seemed to brood on either hand of us like bordering hills, and at -morning we were at a place by name Triel. - -Of all the rivers I have seen I must think the Seine the finest. It runs -in loops like my native Forth, sometimes in great, wide stretches that -have the semblance of moorland lochs. In that fine weather, with a sun -that was most genial, the country round about us basked and smiled. -We moved upon the fairest waters, by magic gardens, and the borders of -enchanted little towns. Now it would be a meadow sloping backward from -the bank, where reeds were nodding, to the horizon; now an orchard -standing upon grass that was the rarest green, then a village with rusty -roofs and spires and the continual chime of bells, with women washing -upon stones or men silent upon wherries fishing. Every link of the -river opened up a fresher wonder; if not some poplared isle that had -the invitation to a childish escapade, 'twould be another town, or the -garden of a chateau, maybe, with ladies walking stately on the lawns, -perhaps alone, perhaps with cavaliers about them as if they moved -in some odd woodland minuet. I can mind of songs that came from open -windows, sung in women's voices; of girls that stood drawing water and -smiled on us as we passed, at home in our craft of fortune, and still -the lucky roamers seeing the world so pleasantly without the trouble of -moving a step from our galley fire. - -Sometimes in the middle of the days we would stop at a red-faced, -ancient inn, with bowers whose tables almost had their feet dipped in -the river, and there would eat a meal and linger on a pot of wine while -our barge fell asleep at her tether and dreamt of the open sea. About us -in these inns came the kind country-people and talked of trivial things -for the mere sake of talking, because the weather was sweet and God -so gracious; homely sounds would waft from the byres and from the -barns--the laugh of bairns, the whistle of boys, the low of cattle. - -At night we moored wherever we might be, and once I mind of a place -called Andelys, selvedged with chalky cliffs and lorded over by a castle -called Gaillard, that had in every aspect of it something of the clash -of weapons and of trumpet-cry. The sky shone blue through its gaping -gables and its crumbling windows like so many eyes; the birds that -wheeled all round it seemed to taunt it for its inability. The old wars -over, the deep fosse silent, the strong men gone--and there at its foot -the thriving town so loud with sounds of peaceful trade! Whoever has -been young, and has the eye for what is beautiful and great and stately, -must have felt in such a scene that craving for companionship that -tickles like a laugh within the heart--that longing for some one to feel -with him, and understand, and look upon with silence. In my case 'twas -two women I would have there with me just to look upon this Gaillard and -the town below it. - -Then the bending, gliding river again, the willow and the aspen -edges, the hazy orchards and the emerald swards; hamlets, towns, -farm-steadings, chateaux, kirks, and mills; the flying mallard, the -leaping perch, the silver dawns, the starry nights, the ripple of the -water in my dreams, and at last the city of Rouen. My ship of fortune -went no further on. - -I slept a night in an inn upon the quay, and early the next morning, -having bought a pair of boots to save my red shoes, I took the road over -a hill that left Rouen and all its steeples, reeking at the bottom of a -bowl. I walked all day, through woods and meadows and trim small towns -and orchards, and late in the gloaming came upon the port of Havre de -Grace. - -The sea was sounding there, and the smell of it was like a salutation. I -went out at night from my inn, and fairly joyed in its propinquity, and -was so keen on it that I was at the quay before it was well daylight. -The harbour was full of vessels. It was not long ere I got word of one -that was in trim for Dunkerque, to which I took a passage, and by favour -of congenial weather came upon the afternoon of the second day. - -Dunkerque was more busy with soldiers than ever, all the arms of France -seemed to be collected there, and ships of war and flat-bottomed boats -innumerable were in the harbour. - -At the first go-off I made for the lodgings I had parted from so -unceremoniously on the morning of that noisy glass coach. - -The house, as I have said before, was over a baker's shop, and was -reached by a common outer stair that rose from a court-yard behind. -Though internally the domicile was well enough, indeed had a sort of -old-fashioned gentility, and was kept by a woman whose man had been a -colonel of dragoons, but now was a tippling pensioner upon the king, and -his own wife's labours, it was, externally, somewhat mean, the place a -solid merchant of our own country might inhabit, but scarce the place -wherein to look for royal blood. What was my astonishment, then, when, -as I climbed the stair, I came face to face with the Prince! - -I felt the stair swing off below me and half distrusted my senses, but I -had the presence of mind to take my hat off. - -"_Bon jour, Monsieur_, said he, with a slight hiccough, and I saw that -he was flushed and meant to pass with an evasion. There and then a -daft notion to explain myself and my relations with the priest who had -planned his assassination came to me, and I stopped and spoke. - -"Your Royal Highness---" I began, and at that he grew purple. - -"_Cest un drole de corps!_" said he, and, always speaking in French, -said he again: - -"You make an error, Monsieur; I have not the honour of Monsieur's -acquaintance," and looked at me with a bold eye and a disconcerting. - -"Greig," I blurted, a perfect lout, and surely as blind as a mole that -never saw his desire, "I had the honour to meet your Royal Highness at -Versailles." - -"My Royal Highness!" said he, this time in English. "I think Monsieur -mistakes himself." And then, when he saw how crestfallen I was, -he smiled and hiccoughed again. "You are going to call on our good -Clancarty," said he. "In that case please tell him to translate to you -the proverb, _Oui phis sait plus se tait_." - -"There is no necessity, Monsieur," I answered promptly. "Now that I look -closer I see I was mistaken. The person I did you the honour to take you -for was one in whose opinion (if he took the trouble to think of me at -all) I should have liked to re-establish myself, that was all." - -In spite of his dissipation there was something noble in his manner--a -style of the shoulders and the hands, a poise of the head that I might -practise for years and come no closer on than any nowt upon my father's -fields. It was that which I remember best of our engagement on the -stair, and that at the last of it he put out his hand to bid me -good-day. - -"My name," says he, "is Monsieur Albany so long as I am in Dunkerque. -_A bon entendeur salut!_ I hope we may meet again, Monsieur Greig." He -looked down at the black boots I had bought me in Rouen. "If I might -take the liberty to suggest it," said he, smiling, "I should abide by -the others. I have never seen their wearer wanting wit, _esprit_, and -prudence--which are qualities that at this moment I desire above all in -those that count themselves my friends." - -And with that he was gone. I watched him descend the remainder of the -stair with much deliberation, and did not move a step myself until the -tip of his scabbard had gone round the corner of the close. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - -A GUID CONCEIT OF MYSELF LEADS ME FAR ASTRAY - -Clancarty and Thurot were playing cards, so intent upon that recreation -that I was in the middle of the floor before they realised who it was -the servant had ushered in. - -"_Mon Dieu! Monsieur Blanc-bec! Il n'y a pas de petit chez soi!_" cried -Thurot, dropping his hand, and they jumped to their feet to greet me. - -"I'll be hanged if you want assurance, child," said Clancarty, surveying -me from head to foot as if I were some curiosity. "Here's your exploits -ringing about the world, and not wholly to your credit, and you must -walk into the very place where they will find the smallest admiration." - -"Not meaning the lodging of Captain Thurot," said I. "Whatever my -reputation may be with the world, I make bold to think he and you will -believe me better than I may seem at the first glance." - -"The first glance!" cried his lordship. "Gad, the first glance suggests -that Bicetre agreed with our Scotsman. Sure, they must have fed you on -oatmeal. I'd give a hatful of louis d'or to see Father Hamilton, for -if he throve so marvellously in the flesh as his secretary he must look -like the side of St. Eloi. One obviously grows fat on regicide--fatter -than a few poor devils I know do upon devotion to princes." - -Thurot's face assured me that I was as welcome there as ever I had been. -He chid Clancarty for his badinage, and told me he was certain all along -that the first place I should make for after my flight from Bicetre (of -which all the world knew) would be Dunkerque. "And a good thing too, M. -Greig," said he. - -"Not so good," says I, "but what I must meet on your stair the very -man-" - -"Stop!" he cried, and put his finger on his lip. "In these parts we know -only a certain M. Albany, who is, my faith! a good friend of your own if -you only knew it." - -"I scarcely see how that can be," said I. "If any man has a cause to -dislike me it is his Roy--" - -"M. Albany," corrected Thurot. - -"It is M. Albany, for whom, it seems, I was the decoy in a business that -makes me sick to think on. I would expect no more than that he had gone -out there to send the officers upon my heels, and for me to be sitting -here may be simple suicide." - -Clancarty laughed. "Tis the way of youth," said he, "to attach far too -much importance to itself. Take our word for it, M. Greig, all France is -not scurrying round looking for the nephew of Andrew Greig. Faith, and -I wonder at you, my dear Thurot, that has an Occasion here--a veritable -Occasion--and never so much as says bottle. Stap me if I have a -friend come to me from a dungeon without wishing him joy in a glass of -burgundy!" - -The burgundy was forthcoming, and his lordship made the most of it, -while Captain Thurot was at pains to assure me that my position was by -no means so bad as I considered it. In truth, he said, the police had -their own reasons for congratulating themselves on my going out of their -way. They knew very well, as M. Albany did, that I had been the catspaw -of the priest, who was himself no better than that same, and for that -reason as likely to escape further molestation as I was myself. - -Thurot spoke with authority, and hinted that he had the word of M. -Albany himself for what he said. I scarcely knew which pleased me -best--that I should be free myself or that the priest should have a -certain security in his concealment. - -I told them of Buhot, and how oddly he had shown his complacence to his -escaped prisoner in the tavern of the Duke of Burgundy's Head. At that -they laughed. - -"Buhot!" cried his lordship. "My faith! Ned must have been tickled to -see his escaped prisoner in such a cosy _cachette_ as the Duke's Head, -where he and I, and Andy Greig--ay! and this same priest--tossed many -a glass, _Ciel!_ the affair runs like a play. All it wants to make this -the most delightful of farces is that you should have Father Hamilton -outside the door to come in at a whistle. Art sure the fat old man is -not in your waistcoat pocket? Anyhow, here's his good health...." - -=== MISSING PAGES (274-288) === - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI. - -THE BARD OF LOVE WHO WROTE WITH OLD MATERIALS - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII. - -THE DUEL IN THE AUBERGE GARDEN - -Whoever it was that moved at the instigation of Madame on my behalf, -he put speed into the business, for the very next day I was told my -sous-lieutenancy was waiting at the headquarters of the regiment. A -severance that seemed almost impossible to me before I learned from the -lady's own lips that her heart was elsewhere engaged was now a thing to -long for eagerly, and I felt that the sooner I was out of Dunkerque and -employed about something more important than the tying of my hair and -the teasing of my heart with thinking, the better for myself. Teasing my -heart, I say, because Miss Walkinshaw had her own reasons for refusing -to see me any more, and do what I might I could never manage to come -face to face with her. Perhaps on the whole it was as well, for what -in the world I was to say to the lady, supposing I were privileged, -it beats me now to fancy. Anyhow, the opportunity never came my way, -though, for the few days that elapsed before I departed from Dunkerque, -I spent hours in the Rue de la Boucherie sipping sirops on the terrace -of the Cafe Coignet opposite her lodging, or at night on the old game of -humming ancient love-songs to her high and distant window. All I got -for my pains were brief and tantalising glimpses of her shadow on the -curtains; an attenuate kind of bliss it must be owned, and yet counted -by Master Red-Shoes (who suffered from nostalgia, not from love, if he -had had the sense to know it) a very delirium of delight. - -One night there was an odd thing came to pass. But, first of all, I must -tell that more than once of an evening, as I would be in the street and -staring across at Miss Walkinshaw's windows, I saw his Royal Highness in -the neighbourhood. His cloak might be voluminous, his hat dragged down -upon the very nose of him, but still the step was unmistakable. If there -had been the smallest doubt of it, there came one evening when he passed -me so close in the light of an oil lamp that I saw the very blotches -on his countenance. What was more, he saw and recognised me, though he -passed without any other sign than the flash of an eye and a halfstep of -hesitation. - -[Illustration: 304] - -"H'm," thinks I, "here's Monsieur Albany looking as if he might, like -myself, be trying to content himself with the mere shadows of things." - -He saw me more than once, and at last there came a night when a fellow -in drink came staving down the street on the side I was on and jostled -me in the by-going without a word of apology. - -"_Pardonnez, Monsieur!_" said I in irony, with my hat off to give him a -hint at his manners. - -He lurched a second time against me and put up his hand to catch my -chin, as if I were a wench, "_Mon Dieu! Monsieur Blanc-bec_, 'tis time -you were home," said he in French, and stuttered some ribaldry that made -me smack his face with an open hand. - -"I saw his Royal Highness in the neighbourhood--" - -At once he sobered with suspicious suddenness if I had had the sense -to reflect upon it, and gave me his name and direction as one George -Bonnat, of the Marine. "Monsieur will do me the honour of a meeting -behind the Auberge Cassard after _petit dejeuner_ to-morrow," said he, -and named a friend. It was the first time I was ever challenged. It -should have rung in the skull of me like an alarm, but I cannot recall -at this date that my heart beat a stroke the faster, or that the -invitation vexed me more than if it had been one to the share of a -bottle of wine. "It seems a pretty ceremony about a cursed impertinence -on the part of a man in liquor," I said, "but I'm ready to meet you -either before or after petit dejeuner, as it best suits you, and my -name's Greig, by your leave." - -"Very well, Monsieur Greig," said he; "except that you stupidly impede -the pavement and talk French like a Spanish cow (_comme une vache -espagnole_), you seem a gentleman of much accommodation. Eight o'clock -then, behind the _auberge_," and off went Sir Ruffler, singularly -straight and business-like, with a profound _conge_ for the unfortunate -wretch he planned to thrust a spit through in the morning. - -I went home at once, to find Thurot and Clancarty at lansquenet. They -were as elate at my story as if I had been asked to dine with Louis. - -"Gad, 'tis an Occasion!" cried my lord, and helped himself, as usual, -with a charming sentiment: "_A demain les affaires serieuses_; to-night -we'll pledge our friend!" - -Thurot evinced a flattering certainty of my ability to break down M. -Bonnat's guard in little or no time. "A crab, this Bonnat," said he. -"Why he should pick a quarrel with you I cannot conceive, for 'tis well -known the man is M. Albany's creature. But, no matter, we shall tickle -his ribs, M. Paul. _Ma foi!_ here's better gaming than your pestilent -cards. I'd have every man in the kingdom find an affair for himself once -a month to keep his spleen in order." - -"This one's like to put mine very much out of order with his iron," I -said, a little ruefully recalling my last affair. - -"What!" cried Thurot, "after all my lessons! And this Bonnat a crab too! -Fie! M. Paul. And what an he pricks a little? a man's the better for -some iron in his system now and then. Come, come, pass down these foils, -my lord, and I shall supple the arms of our Paul." - -We had a little exercise, and then I went to bed. The two sat in my -room, and smoked and talked till late in the night, while I pretended -to be fast asleep. But so far from sleep was I, that I could hear their -watches ticking in their fobs. Some savagery, some fearful want of soul -in them, as evidenced by their conversation, horrified me. It was no -great matter that I was to risk my life upon a drunkard's folly, but -for the first time since I had come into the port of Dunkerque, and knew -these men beside my bed, there intruded a fiery sense of alienation. It -seemed a dream--a dreadful dream, that I should be lying in a foreign -land, upon the eve, perhaps, of my own death or of another manslaughter, -and in a correspondence with two such worldly men as those that sat -there recalling combats innumerable with never a thought of the ultimate -fearful retribution. Compared with this close room, where fumed the wine -and weed, and men with never a tie domestic were paying away their lives -in the small change of trivial pleasures, how noble and august seemed -our old life upon the moors! - -When they were gone I fell asleep and slept without a break till -Thurot's fingers drummed reveille on my door. I jumped into the sunshine -of a lovely day that streamed into the room, soused my head in water and -in a little stood upon the street with my companion. - -"_Bon matin_, Paul!" he cried cheerfully. "Faith, you sleep sur _les -deux oreilles_, and we must be marching briskly to be at M. Bonnat's -rendezvous at eight o'clock." - -We went through the town and out upon its edge at the Calais road. The -sky was blue like another sea; the sea itself was all unvexed by wave; a -sweeter day for slaughtering would pass the wit of man to fancy. Thurot -hummed an air as he walked along the street, but I was busy thinking -of another morning in Scotland, when I got a bitter lesson I now seemed -scandalously soon to have forgotten. By-and-by we came to the inn. It -stood by itself upon the roadside, with a couple of workmen sitting on -a bench in front dipping their morning crusts in a common jug of wine. -Thurot entered and made some inquiry; came out radiant. "Monsieur is not -going to disappoint us, as I feared," said he; and led me quickly behind -the _auberge_. We passed through the yard, where a servant-girl scoured -pots and pans and sang the while as if the world were wholly pleasant in -that sunshine; we crossed a tiny rivulet upon a rotten plank and found -ourselves in an orchard. Great old trees stood silent in the finest -foggy grass, their boughs all bursting out into blossom, and the air -scent-thick-ened; everywhere the birds were busy; it seemed a world -of piping song. I thought to myself there could be no more incongruous -place nor season for our duelling, and it was with half a gladness I -looked around the orchard, finding no one there. - -"Bah! our good Bonnat's gone!" cried Thurot, vastly chagrined and -tugging at his watch. "That comes of being five minutes too late, and I -cannot, by my faith, compliment the gentleman upon his eagerness to meet -you." - -I was mistaken but for a second; then I spied my fiery friend of the -previous evening lying on his back beneath the oldest of the trees, his -hat tilted over his eyes, as if he had meant to snatch a little sleep -in spite of the dazzling sunshine. He rose to his feet on our approach, -swept off his hat courteously, and hailed Thurot by name. - -"What, you, Antoine! I am ravished! For, look you, the devil's in all my -friends that I can get none of them to move a step at this hour of the -morning, and I have had to come to M. Greig without a second. Had I -known his friend was Captain Thurot I should not have vexed myself. -Doubtless M. Greig has no objection to my entrusting my interests as -well as his own in the hands of M. le Capitaine?" - -I bowed my assent. Captain Thurot cast a somewhat cold and unsatisfied -eye upon the ruffler, protesting the thing was unusual. - -Bonnat smiled and shrugged his shoulders, put off his coat with much -deliberation, and took up his place upon the sward, where I soon -followed him. - -"Remember, it is no fool, this crab," whispered Captain Thurot as he -took my coat from me. "And 'tis two to one on him who prefers the parry -to the attack." - -I had been reading Moliere's "Bourgeois Gentilhomme" the previous -morning, and as I faced my assailant I had the fencing-master's words as -well as Captain Thurot's running in my ears: "To give and not receive -is the secret of the sword." It may appear incredible, but it seemed -physically a trivial affair I was engaged upon until I saw the man -Bonnat's eye. He wore a smile, but his eye had the steely glint of -murder! It was as unmistakable as if his tongue confessed it, and for -a second I trembled at the possibilities of the situation. He looked an -unhealthy dog; sallow exceedingly on the neck, which had the sinews -so tight they might have twanged like wire, and on his cheeks, that he -seemed to suck in with a gluttonous exultation such as a gross man shows -in front of a fine meal. - -"Are you ready, gentlemen?" said Thurot; and we nodded. "Then in guard!" -said he. - -We saluted, fell into position and thrust simultaneously in tierce, -parrying alike, then opened more seriously. - -In Thurot's teaching of me there was one lesson he most unweariedly -insisted on, whose object was to keep my point in a straight line and -parry in the smallest possible circles. I had every mind of it now, but -the cursed thing was that this Bonnat knew it too. He fenced, like an -Italian, wholly from the wrist, and, crouched upon his knees, husbanded -every ounce of energy by the infrequency and the brevity of his thrusts. -His lips drew back from his teeth, giving him a most villainous aspect, -and he began to press in the lower lines. - -In a side-glance hazarded I saw the anxiety of Thurot's eye and realised -his apprehension. I broke ground, and still, I think, was the bravo's -match but for the alarm of Thurot's eye. It confused me so much that I -parried widely and gave an opening for a thrust that caught me slightly -on the arm, and dyed my shirt-sleeve crimson in a moment. - -"Halt!" cried Thurot, and put up his arm. - -I lowered my weapon, thinking the bout over, and again saw murder in -Bonnat's eye. He lunged furiously at my chest, missing by a miracle. - -"_Scelerat!_" cried Thurot, and, in an uncontrollable fury at the -action, threw himself upon Bonnat and disarmed him. - -They glared at each other for a minute, and Thurot finally cast the -other's weapon over a hedge. "So much for M. Bonnat!" said he. "This is -our valiant gentleman, is it? To stab like an assassin!" - -"_Oh, malediction!_" said the other, little abashed, and shrugging his -shoulders as he lifted his coat to put it on. "Talking of assassination, -I but did the duty of the executioner in his absence, and proposed to -kill the man who meditated the same upon the Prince." - -"The Prince!" cried Thurot. "Why 'tis the Prince's friend, and saved his -life!" - -"I know nothing about that," said Bonnat; "but do you think I'd be out -here at such a cursed early hour fencing if any other than M. Albany -had sent me? _Pardieu!_ the whole of you are in the farce, but I always -counted you the Prince's friend, and here you must meddle when I do as -I am told to do!" - -"And you tell me, Jean Bonnat, that you take out my friend to murder him -by M. Albany's command?" cried Thurot incredulous. - -"What the devil else?" replied the bravo. "'Tis true M. Albany only -mentioned that M. des Souliers Rouges was an obstruction in the Rue de -la Boucherie and asked me to clear him out of Dunkerque, but 'twere a -tidier job to clear him altogether. And here is a great pother about an -English hog!" - -I was too busily stanching my wound, that was scarce so serious as it -appeared, to join in this dispute, but the allusion to the Prince and -the Rue de la Boucherie extremely puzzled me. I turned to Bonnat with a -cry for an explanation. - -"What!" I says, "does his Royal Highness claim any prerogative to the -Rue de la Boucherie? I'm unconscious that I ever did either you or him -the smallest harm, and if my service--innocent enough as it was--with -the priest Hamilton was something to resent, his Highness has already -condoned the offence." - -"For the sake of my old friend M. le Capitaine here I shall give you -one word of advice," said Bonnat, "and that is, to evacuate Dunkerque as -sharply as you may. M. Albany may owe you some obligement, as I've heard -him hint himself, but nevertheless your steps will be safer elsewhere -than in the Rue de la Boucherie." - -"There is far too much of the Rue de la Boucherie about this," I said, -"and I hope no insult is intended to certain friends I have or had -there." - -At this they looked at one another. The bravo (for so I think I may at -this time call him) whistled curiously and winked at the other, and, in -spite of himself, Captain Thurot was bound to laugh. - -"And has M. Paul been haunting the Rue de la Boucherie, too?" said he. -"That, indeed, is to put another face on the business. 'Tis, _ma foi!_ -to expect too much of M. Albany's complaisance. After that there is -nothing for us but to go home. And, harkee! M. Bonnat, no more Venetian -work, or, by St. Denys, I shall throw you into the harbour." - -"You must ever have your joke, my noble M. le Capitaine," said Bonnat -brazenly, and tucked his hat on the side of the head. "M. Blanc-bec -there handles _arme blanche_ rather prettily, thanks, no doubt, to the -gallant commander of the _Roi Rouge_, but if he has a mother let me -suggest the wisdom of his going back to her." And with that and a -_conge_ he left us to enter the _auberge_. - -Thurot and I went into the town. He was silent most of the way, -ruminating upon this affair, which it was plain he could unravel better -than I could, yet he refused to give me a hint at the cause of it. I -pled with him vainly for an explanation of the Prince's objection to -my person. "I thought he had quite forgiven my innocent part in the -Hamilton affair," I said. - -"And so he had," said Thurot. "I have his own assurances." - -"'Tis scarcely like it when he sets a hired assassin on my track to lure -me into a duel." - -"My dear boy," said Thurot, "you owe him all--your escape from Bicetre, -which could easily have been frustrated; and the very prospect of the -lieutenancy in the Regiment d'Auvergne." - -"What! he has a hand in this?" I cried. - -"Who else?" said he. "'Tis not the fashion in France to throw unschooled -Scots into such positions out of hand, and only princes may manage it. -It seems, then, that we have our Prince in two moods, which is not -uncommon with the same gentleman. He would favour you for the one -reason, and for the other he would cut your throat. M. Tete-de-fer is my -eternal puzzle. And the deuce is that he has, unless I am much mistaken, -the same reason for favouring and hating you." - -"And what might that be?" said I. - -"Who, rather?" said Thurot, and we were walking down the Rue de la -Boucherie. "Why, then, if you must have pointed out to you what is under -your very nose, 'tis the lady who lives here. She is the god from the -machine in half a hundred affairs no less mysterious, and I wish she -were anywhere else than in Dunkerque. But, anyway, she sent you with -Hamilton, and she has secured the favour of the Prince for you, and -now--though she may not have attempted it--she has gained you the same -person's enmity." - -I stopped in the street and turned to him. "All this is confused enough -to madden me," I said, "and rather than be longer in the mist I shall -brave her displeasure, compel an audience, and ask her for an -explanation." - -"Please yourself," said Thurot, and seeing I meant what I said he left -me. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - -FAREWELL TO MISS WALKINSHAW - -It was under the lash of a natural exasperation I went up Mademoiselle's -stairs determined on an interview. Bernard (of all men in the world!) -responded to my knock. I could have thrashed him with a cane if the same -had been handy, but was bound to content myself with the somewhat barren -comfort of affecting that I had never set eyes on him before. He smiled -at first, as if not unpleased to see me, but changed his aspect at the -unresponse of mine. - -"I desire to see Miss Walkinshaw," said I. - -The rogue blandly intimated that she was not at home. There is more -truth in a menial eye than in most others, and this man's fashionable -falsehood extended no further than his lips. I saw quite plainly he was -acting upon instructions, and, what made it the more uncomfortable for -him, he saw that I saw. - -"Very well, I shall have the pleasure of waiting in the neighbourhood -till she returns," I said, and leaned against the railing. This -frightened him somewhat, and he hastened to inform me that he did not -know when she might return. - -"It does not matter," I said coolly, inwardly pleased to find my courage -much higher in the circumstances than I had expected. "If it's midnight -she shall find me here, for I have matters of the first importance upon -which to consult her." - -He was more disturbed than ever, hummed and hawed and hung upon the -door-handle, making it very plainly manifest that his instructions had -not gone far enough, and that he was unable to make up his mind how he -was further to comport himself to a visitor so persistent. Then, unable -to get a glance of recognition from me, and resenting further -the inconvenience to which I was subjecting him, he rose to an -impertinence--the first (to do him justice) I had ever found in him. - -"Will Monsieur," said he, "tell me who I shall say called?" - -The thrust was scarcely novel. I took it smiling, and "My good rogue," -said I, "if the circumstances were more favourable I should have the -felicity of giving you an honest drubbing." He got very red. "Come, -Bernard," I said, adopting another tone, "I think you owe me some -consideration. And will you not, in exchange for my readiness to give -you all the information you required some time ago for your employers, -tell me the truth and admit that Mademoiselle is within?" - -He was saved an answer by the lady herself. - -"La! Mr. Greig!" she cried, coming to the door and putting forth a -welcoming hand. "My good Bernard has no discrimination, or he should -except my dear countryman from my general orders against all visitors." -So much in French; and then, as she led the way to her parlour, "My dear -man of Mearns, you are as dour as--as dour as--" - -"As a donkey," I finished, seeing she hesitated for a likeness. "And I -feel very much like that humble beast at this moment." - -"I do not wonder at it," said she, throwing herself in a chair. "To -thrust yourself upon a poor lonely woman in this fashion!" - -"I am the ass--I have been the ass--it would appear, in other respects -as well." - -She reddened, and tried to conceal her confusion by putting back her -hair, that somehow escaped in a strand about her ears. I had caught -her rather early in the morning; she had not even the preparation of -a _petit lever_; and because of a certain chagrin at being discovered -scarcely looking her best her first remarks were somewhat chilly. - -"Well, at least you have persistency, I'll say that of it," she went -on, with a light laugh, and apparently uncomfortable. "And for what am I -indebted to so early a visit from my dear countryman?" - -"It was partly that I might say a word of thanks personally to you for -your offices in my poor behalf. The affair of the Regiment d'Auvergne is -settled with a suddenness that should be very gratifying to myself, -for it looks as if King Louis could not get on another day wanting my -distinguished services. I am to join the corps at the end of the month, -and must leave Dunkerque forthwith. That being so, it was only proper I -should come in my own person to thank you for your good offices." - -"Do not mention it," she said hurriedly. "I am only too glad that I -could be of the smallest service to you." - -"I cannot think," I went on, "what I can have done to warrant your -displeasure with me." - -"Displeasure!" she replied. "Who said I was displeased?" - -"What am I to think, then? I have been refused the honour of seeing you -for this past week." - -"Well, not displeasure, Mr. Greig," she said, trifling with her rings. -"Let us be calling it prudence. I think that might have suggested itself -as a reason to a gentleman of Mr. Greig's ordinary intuitions." - -"It's a virtue, this prudence, a Greig could never lay claim to," I -said. "And I must tell you that, where the special need for it arises -now, and how it is to be made manifest, is altogether beyond me." - -"No matter," said she, and paused. "And so you are going to the -frontier, and are come to say good-bye to me?" - -"Now that you remind me that is exactly my object," I said, rising to -go. She did not have the graciousness even to stay me, but rose too, as -if she felt the interview could not be over a moment too soon. And yet I -noticed a certain softening in her manner that her next words confirmed. - -"And so you go, Mr. Greig?" she said. "There's but the one thing I would -like to say to my friend, and that's that I should like him not to think -unkindly of one that values his good opinion--if she were worthy to have -it. The honest and unsuspecting come rarely my way nowadays, and now -that I'm to lose them I feel like to greet." She was indeed inclined -to tears, and her lips were twitching, but I was not enough rid of my -annoyance to be moved much by such a demonstration. - -"I have profited much by your society, Miss Walkinshaw," I said. "You -found me a boy, and what way it happens I do not know, but it's a man -that's leaving you. You made my stay here much more pleasant than it -would otherwise have been, and this last kindness--that forces me away -from you--is one more I have to thank you for." - -She was scarcely sure whether to take this as a compliment or the -reverse, and, to tell the truth, I meant it half and half. - -"I owed all the little I could do to my countryman," said she. - -"And I hope I have been useful," I blurted out, determined to show her I -was going with open eyes. - -Somewhat stricken she put her hand upon my arm. "I hope you will forgive -that, Mr. Greig," she said, leaving no doubt that she had jumped to my -meaning. - -"There is nothing to forgive," I said shortly. "I am proud that I was of -service, not to you alone but to one in the interests of whose house -some more romantical Greigs than I have suffered. My only complaint is -that the person in question seems scarcely to be grateful for the little -share I had unconsciously in preserving his life." - -"I am sure he is very grateful," she cried hastily, and perplexed. "I -may tell you that he was the means of getting you the post in the -regiment." - -"So I have been told," I said, and she looked a little startled. "So I -have been told. It may be that I'll be more grateful by-and-by, when I -see what sort of a post it is. In the meantime, I have my gratitude -greatly hampered by a kind of inconsistency in the--in the person's -actings towards myself!" - -"Inconsistency!" she repeated bitterly. "That need not surprise you! But -I do not understand." - -"It is simply that--perhaps to hasten me to my duties--his Royal -Highness this morning sent a ruffian to fight me." - -I have never seen a face so suddenly change as hers did when she heard -this; for ordinary she had a look of considerable amiability, a soft, -kind eye, a ready smile that had the hint (as I have elsewhere said) -of melancholy, a voice that, especially in the Scots, was singularly -attractive. A temper was the last thing I would have charged her with, -yet now she fairly flamed, "What is this you are telling me, Paul -Greig?" she cried, her eyes stormy, her bosom beginning to heave. "Oh, -just that M. Albany (as he calls himself) has some grudge against me, -for he sent a man--Bonnat--to pick a quarrel with me, and by Bonnat's -own confession the duel that was to ensue was to be _a outrance_. But -for the intervention of a friend, half an hour ago, there would have -been a vacancy already in the Regiment d'Auvergne." - -"Good heavens!" she cried. "You must be mistaken. What object in the -wide world could his Royal Highness have in doing you any harm? You were -an instrument in the preservation of his life." - -I bowed extremely low, with a touch of the courts I had not when I -landed first in Dunkerque. - -"I have had the distinguished honour, Miss Walkinshaw," I said. "And -I should have thought that enough to counterbalance my unfortunate and -ignorant engagement with his enemies." - -"But why, in Heaven's name, should he have a shred of resentment against -you?" - -"It seems," I said, "that it has something to do with my boldness in -using the Rue de la Boucherie for an occasional promenade." - -She put her two hands up to her face for a moment, but I could see the -wine-spill in between, and her very neck was in a flame. - -"Oh, the shame! the shame!" she cried, and began to walk up and down the -room like one demented. "Am I to suffer these insults for ever in spite -of all that I may do to prove--to prove----" - -She pulled herself up short, put down her hands from a face exceedingly -distressed, and looked closely at me. "What must you think of me, Mr. -Greig?" she asked suddenly in quite a new key. - -"What do I think of myself to so disturb you?" I replied. "I do not -know in what way I have vexed you, but to do so was not at all in my -intention. I must tell you that I am not a politician, and that since I -came here these affairs of the Prince and all the rest of it are quite -beyond my understanding. If the cause of the white cockade brought you -to France, Miss Walkinshaw, as seems apparent, I cannot think you are -very happy in it nowadays, but that is no affair of mine." - -She stared at me. "I hope," said she, "you are not mocking me?" - -"Heaven forbid!" I said. "It would be the last thing I should presume -to do, even if I had a reason. I owe you, after all, nothing but the -deepest gratitude." - -Beyond the parlour we stood in was a lesser room that was the lady's -boudoir. We stood with our backs to it, and I know not how much of our -conversation had been overheard when I suddenly turned at the sound of a -man's voice, and saw his Royal Highness standing in the door! - -I could have rubbed my eyes out of sheer incredulity, for that he should -be in that position was as if I had come upon a ghost. He stood with a -face flushed and frowning, rubbing his eyes, and there was something in -his manner that suggested he was not wholly sober. - -"I'll be cursed," said he, "if I haven't been asleep. Deuce take -Clancarty! He kept me at cards till dawn this morning, and I feel as if -I had been all night on heather. _Pardieu_----!" - -He pulled himself up short and stared, seeing me for the first time. -His face grew purple with annoyance. "A thousand pardons!" he cried with -sarcasm, and making a deep bow. "I was not aware that I intruded on -affairs." - -Miss Walkinshaw turned to him sharply. - -"There is no intrusion," said she, "but honesty, in the person of my -dear countryman, who has come to strange quarters with it. Your Royal -Highness has now the opportunity of thanking this gentleman." - -"I' faith," said he, "I seem to be kept pretty constantly in mind of -the little I owe to this gentleman in spite of himself. Harkee, my good -Monsieur, I got you a post; I thought you had been out of Dunkerque by -now." - -"The post waits, M. Albany," said I, "and I am going to take it up -forthwith. I came here to thank the person to whose kindness I owe -the post, and now I am in a quandary as to whom my thanks should be -addressed." - -"My dear Monsieur, to whom but to your countrywoman? We all of us owe -her everything, and--egad!--are not grateful enough," and with that he -looked for the first time at her with his frown gone. - -"Yes, yes," she cried; "we may put off the compliments till another -occasion. What I must say is that it is a grief and a shame to me that -this gentleman, who has done so much for me--I speak for myself, your -Royal Highness will observe--should be so poorly requited." - -"Requited!" cried he. "How now? I trust Monsieur is not dissatisfied." -His face had grown like paste, his hand, that constantly fumbled at his -unshaven chin, was trembling. I felt a mortal pity for this child of -kings, discredited and debauched, and yet I felt bound to express myself -upon the trap that he had laid for me, if Bonnat's words were true. - -"I have said my thanks, M. Albany, very stammeringly for the d'Auvergne -office, because I can only guess at my benefactor. My gratitude----" - -"Bah!" cried he. "Tis the scurviest of qualities. A benefactor that does -aught for gratitude had as lief be a selfish scoundrel. We want none of -your gratitude, Monsieur Greig." - -"'Tis just as well, M. Albany," I cried, "for what there was of it is -mortgaged." - -"_Comment?_" he asked, uneasily. - -"I was challenged to a duel this morning with a man Bonnat that calls -himself your servant," I replied, always very careful to take his own -word for it and assume I spoke to no prince, but simply M. Albany. "He -informed me that you had, Monsieur, some objection to my sharing the -same street with you, and had given him his instructions." - -"Bonnat," cried the Prince, and rubbed his hand across his temples. -"I'll be cursed if I have seen the man for a month. Stay!--stay--let -me think! Now that I remember, he met me last night after dinner, -but--but----" - -"After dinner! Then surely it should have been in a more favourable mood -to myself, that has done M. Albany no harm," I said. "I do not wonder -that M. Albany has lost so many of his friends if he settles their -destinies after dinner." - -At first he frowned at this and then he laughed outright. - -"_Ma foi!_" he cried, "here's another Greig to call me gomeral to my -face," and he lounged to a chair where he sunk in inextinguishable -laughter. - -But if I had brought laughter from him I had precipitated anger -elsewhere. - -"Here's a pretty way to speak to his Royal Highness," cried Miss -Walkinshaw, her face like thunder. "The manners of the Mearns shine very -poorly here. You forget that you speak to one that is your prince, in -faith your king!" - -"Neither prince nor king of mine, Miss Walkinshaw," I cried, and turned -to go. "No, if a hundred thousand swords were at his back. I had once a -notion of a prince that rode along the Gallowgate, but I was then a boy, -and now I am a man--which you yourself have made me." - -With that I bowed low and left them. They neither of them said a word. -It was the last I was to see of Clementina Walkinshaw and the last of -Charles Edward. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - -OF MY WINTER CAMPAIGN IN PRUSSIA, AND ANOTHER MEETING WITH MACKELLAR OF -KILBRIDE - -I have no intention here of narrating at large what happened in my -short career as a soldier of the French Army, curious though some of -the things that befell me chanced to be. They may stand for another -occasion, while I hurriedly and briefly chronicle what led to my -second meeting with MacKellar of Kilbride, and through that same to the -restoration of the company of Father Hamilton, the sometime priest of -Dixmunde. - -The Regiment d'Auvergne was far from its native hills when first I -joined it, being indeed on the frontier of Austria. 'Twas a corps not -long embodied, composed of a preposterous number of mere lads as soft as -kail, yet driven to miracles of exertion by drafted veteran officers of -other regiments who stiffened their command with the flat of the sword. -As for my lieutenancy it was nothing to be proud of in such a battalion, -for I herded in a mess of foul-mouthed scoundrels and learned little of -the trade of soldiering that I was supposed to be taught in the interval -between our departure from the frontier and our engagement on the field -as allies with the Austrians. Of the Scots that had been in the regiment -at one time there was only one left--a major named MacKay, that came -somewhere out of the Reay country in the shire of Sutherland, and was -reputed the drunkenest officer among the allies, yet comported himself, -on the strength of his Hielan' extraction, towards myself, his Lowland -countryman, with such a ludicrous haughtiness I could not bear the -man--no, not from the first moment I set eyes on him! - -He was a pompous little person with legs bowed through years of riding -horse, and naturally he was the first of my new comrades I introduced -myself to when I joined the colours. I mind he sat upon a keg of -bullets, looking like a vision of Bacchus, somewhat soiled and pimply, -when I entered to him and addressed him, with a certain gladness, in our -tongue. - -"Humph!" was what he said. "Another of his Royal Highness's Sassenach -friends! Here's a wheen of the lousiest French privates ever shook in -their breeks in front of a cannon, wanting smeddum and courage drummed -into them with a scabbard, and they send me Sassenachs to do the -business with when the whole hearty North of Scotland is crawling with -the stuff I want particularly." - -"Anyway, here I am, major," said I, slightly taken aback at this, "and -you'll have to make the best of me." - -"Pshaw!" cried he vulgarly and cracked his thumb. "I have small stomach -for his Royal Highness's recommendations; I have found in the past that -he sends to Austria--him and his friends--only the stuff he has no use -for nearer the English Channel, where it's I would like to be this day. -They're talking of an invasion, I hear; wouldn't I like to be among the -first to have a slap again at Geordie?" - -My birse rose at this, which I regarded as a rank treason in any man -that spoke my own language even with a tartan accent. - -"A slap at Geordie!" I cried. "You made a bonny-like job o't when you -had the chance!" - -It was my first and last confabulation of a private nature with Major -Dugald MacKay. Thereafter he seldom looked the road I was on beyond to -give an order or pick a fault, and, luckily, though a pleasant footing -with my neighbours has ever been my one desire in life, I was not much -put up or down by the ill-will of such a creature. - -Like a break in a dream, a space of all unfriended travelling, which -is the worst travelling of all, appears my time of marching with the -Regiment d'Auvergne. I was lost among aliens--aliens in tongue and -sentiment, and engaged, to tell the truth, upon an enterprise that never -enlisted the faintest of my sympathy. All I wished was to forget the -past (and that, be sure, was the one impossible thing), and make a -living of some sort. The latter could not well be more scanty, for -my pay was a beggar's, and infrequent at that, and finally it wholly -ceased. - -I saw the world, so much of it as lies in Prussia, and may be witnessed -from the ranks of a marching regiment of the line; I saw life--the -life of the tent and the bivouac, and the unforgettable thing of it was -death--death in the stricken field among the grinding hoofs of horses, -below the flying wheels of the artillery. - -And yet if I had had love there--some friend to talk to when the -splendour of things filled me; the consciousness of a kind eye to share -the pleasure of a sunshine or to light at a common memory; or if I -had had hope, the prospect of brighter days and a restitution of my -self-respect, they might have been much happier these marching days that -I am now only too willing to forget. For we trod in many pleasant places -even when weary, by summer fields jocund with flowers, and by autumn's -laden orchards. Stars shone on our wearied columns as we rested in the -meadows or on the verge of woods, half satisfied with a gangrel's supper -and sometimes joining in a song. I used to feel then that here was a -better society after all than some I had of late been habituated with -upon the coast. And there were towns we passed through: 'twas sweet -exceedingly to hear the echo of our own loud drums, the tarantara of -trumpets. I liked to see the folks come out although they scarce were -friendly, and feel that priceless zest that is the guerdon of the corps, -the crowd, the mob--that I was something in a vastly moving thing even -if it was no more than the regiment of raw lads called d'Auvergne. - -We were, for long in our progress, no part of the main army, some -strategy of which we could not guess the reasoning, making it necessary -that we should move alone through the country; and to the interest -of our progress through these foreign scenes was added the ofttimes -apprehension that we might some day suffer an alarm from the regiments -of the great Frederick. Twice we were surprised by night and our -pickets broken in, once a native guided us to a _guet-apens_--an -ambuscade--where, to do him justice, the major fought like a lion, and -by his spirit released his corps from the utmost danger. A war is like a -harvest; you cannot aye be leading in, though the common notion is -that in a campaign men are fighting even-on. In the cornfield the work -depends upon the weather; in the field of war (at least with us 'twas -so) the actual strife must often depend upon the enemy, and for weeks on -end we saw them neither tail nor horn, as the saying goes. Sometimes it -seemed as if the war had quite forgotten us, and was waging somewhere -else upon the planet far away from Prussia. - -We got one good from the marching and the waiting; it put vigour in our -men. Day by day they seemed to swell and strengthen, thin faces grew -well-filled and ruddy, slouching steps grew confident and firm. And thus -the Regiment d'Au-vergne was not so badly figured when we fought the -fight of Rosbach that ended my career of glory. - -Rosbach!--its name to me can still create a tremor. We fought it in -November month in a storm of driving snow. Our corps lay out upon the -right of Frederick among fields that were new-ploughed for wheat and -broken up by ditches. The d'Auvergnes charged with all the fire of -veterans; they were smashed by horse, but rose and fell and rose again -though death swept across them like breath from a furnace, scorching -and shrivelling all before it. The Prussian and the Austrian guns -went rat-a-pat like some gigantic drum upon the braes, and nearer -the musketry volleys mingled with the plunge of horse and shouting of -commanders so that each sound individually was indistinguishable, but -all was blended in one unceasing melancholy hum. - -That drumming on the braes and that long melancholy hum are what most -vividly remains to me of Rosbach, for I fell early in the engagement, -struck in the charge by the sabre of a Prussian horseman that cleft -me to the skull in a slanting stroke and left me incapable, but not -unconscious, on the field. - -I lay for hours with other wounded in the snow The battle changed -ground; the noises came from the distance: we seemed to be forgotten. I -pitied myself exceedingly. Finally I swounded. - -When I came to myself it was night and men with lanterns were moving -about the fields gathering us in like blackcock where we lay. Two -Frenchmen came up and spoke to me, but what they said was all beyond -me for I had clean forgotten every word of their language though that -morning I had known it scarcely less fully than my own. I tried to speak -in French, it seems, and thought I did so, but in spite of me the words -were the broadest lallands Scots such as I had not used since I had run, -a bare-legged boy, about the braes of, home. And otherwise my faculties -were singularly acute, for I remember how keenly I noticed the pitying -eye of the younger of the two men. - -What they did was to stanch my wound and go away. I feared I was -deserted, but by-and-by they returned with another man who held the -lantern close to my face as he knelt beside me. - -"By the black stones of Baillinish!" said he in an unmistakable Hielan' -accent, "and what have I here the night but the boy that harmed the -bylie? You were not in your mother's bosom when you got that stroke!" - -I saw his smile in the light of his lanthom, 'twas no other than -MacKellar of Kilbride! - -He was a surgeon in one of the corps; had been busy at his trade in -another part of the field when the two Frenchmen who had recognised me -for a Scot had called him away to look to a compatriot. - -Under charge of Kilbride (as, in our country fashion, I called him) -I was taken in a waggon with several other wounded soldiers over the -frontier into Holland, that was, perhaps, the one unvexed part of all -the Continent of Europe in these stirring days. - -I mended rapidly, and cheery enough were these days of travel in a cart, -so cheery that I never considered what the end of them might be, but was -content to sit in the sunshine blithely conversing with this odd surgeon -of the French army who had been roving the world for twenty years like -my own Uncle Andrew, and had seen service in every army in Europe, but -yet hankered to get back to the glens of his nativity, where he hoped -his connection with the affair of Tearlach and the Forty-five would be -forgotten. - -"It's just this way of it, Hazel Den," he would say to me, "there's -them that has got enough out of Tearlach to make it worth their while -to stick by him and them that has not. I am of the latter. I have been -hanging about Paris yonder for a twelvemonth on the promise of the body -that I should have a post that suited with my talents, and what does he -do but get me clapped into a scurvy regiment that goes trudging through -Silesia since Whitsunday, with never a sign of the paymaster except the -once and then no more than a tenth of what was due to me. It is, maybe, -glory, as the other man said; but my sorrow, it is not the kind that -makes a clinking in your pouches." - -He had a comfortable deal of money to have so poor an account of his -paymaster, and at that I hinted. - -"Oh! Allow me for that!" he cried with great amusement at my wonder. -"Fast hand at a feast and fast feet at a foray is what the other man -said, and I'm thinking it is a very good observation, too. Where would I -be if I was lippening on the paymaster?" - -"Man! you surely have not been stealing?" said I, with such great -innocency that he laughed like to end. - -"Stealing!" he cried. "It's no theft to lift a purse in an enemy's -country." - -"But these were no enemies of yours?" I protested, "though you happen to -be doctoring in their midst." - -"Tuts! tuts, man!" said he shortly. "When the conies quarrel the quirky -one (and that's Sir Fox if ye like to ken) will get his own. There seems -far too much delicacy about you, my friend, to be a sporran-soldier -fighting for the best terms an army will give you. And what for need you -grumble at my having found a purse in an empty house when it's by virtue -of the same we're at this moment making our way to the sea?" - -I could make no answer to that, for indeed I had had, like the other -three wounded men in the cart with me, the full benefit of his purse, -wherever he had found it, and but for that we had doubtless been -mouldering in a Prussian prison. - -It will be observed that MacKellar spoke of our making for the sea, and -here it behoves that I should tell how that project arose. - -When we had crossed the frontier the first time it was simply because -it seemed the easiest way out of trouble, though it led us away from -the remnants of the army. I had commented upon this the first night we -stopped within the Netherlands, and the surgeon bluntly gave me his mind -on the matter. The truth was, he said, that he was sick of his post and -meant to make this the opportunity of getting quit of it. - -I went as close as I dared upon a hint that the thing looked woundily -like a desertion. He picked me up quick enough and counselled me to -follow his example, and say farewell to so scurvy a service as that I -had embarked on. His advices might have weighed less with me (though in -truth I was sick enough of the Regiment d'Auvergne and a succession -of defeats) if he had not told me that there was a certain man at -Helvoetsluys he knew I should like to see. - -"And who might that be?" I asked. - -"Who but his reverence himself?" said Kilbride, who dearly loved an -effect. "Yon night I met you in the Paris change-house it was planned by -them I was with, one of them being Buhot himself of the police, that the -old man must be driven out of his nest in the Hotel Dieu, seeing they -had got all the information they wanted from him, and I was one of the -parties who was to carry this into effect. At the time I fancied Buhot -was as keen upon yourself as upon the priest, and I thought I was doing -a wonderfully clever thing to spy your red shoes and give you a warning -to quit the priest, but all the time Buhot was only laughing at me, and -saw you and recognised you himself in the change-house. Well, to make -the long tale short, when we went to the hospital the birds were both -of them gone, which was more than we bargained for, because some sort -of trial was due to the priest though there was no great feeling against -him. Where he had taken wing to we could not guess, but you will not -hinder him to come on a night of nights (as we say) to the lodging I -was tenanting at the time in the Rue Espade, and throw himself upon my -mercy. The muckle hash! I'll allow the insolency of the thing tickled -me greatly. The man was a fair object, too; had not tasted food for two -days, and captured my fancy by a tale I suppose there is no trusting, -that he had given you the last few _livres_ he had in the world." - -"That was true enough about the _livres_," I said with gratitude. - -"Was it, faith?" cried Kilbride. "Then I'm glad I did him the little -service that lay in my power, which was to give him enough money to pay -for posting to Helvoetsluys, where he is now, and grateful enough so far -as I could gather from the last letters I had from him, and also mighty -anxious to learn what became of his secretary." - -"I would give the last plack in my pocket to see the creature," said I. - -"Would you indeed?" said Kilbride. "Then here's the road for you, and -it must be a long furlough whatever of it from the brigade of Marshal -Clermont." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - -BRINGS ME TO HELVOETSLUYS IN WINTER WEATHER - -Kilbride and I parted company with the others once we had got within the -lines of Holland; the cateran (as I would sometimes be calling him in -a joke) giving them as much money as might take them leisuredly to the -south they meant to make for, and he and I proceeded on our way across -the country towards the mouth of the River Maas. - -It was never my lot before nor since to travel with a more cheerful -companion. Not the priest himself had greater humour in his composition, -and what was more it was a jollity I was able the better to understand, -for while much of Hamilton's _esprit_ missed the spark with me because -it had a foreign savour, the pawkiness of Kilbride was just the marrow -of that I had seen in folks at home. And still the man was strange, for -often he had melancholies. Put him in a day of rain and wind and you -would hear him singing like a laverock the daftest songs in Erse; or -give him a tickle task at haggling in the language of signs with a -broad-bottomed bargeman, or the driver of a rattel-van, and the fun -would froth in him like froth on boiling milk. - -Indeed, and I should say like cream, for this Mac-Kellar man had, what -is common enough among the clans in spite of our miscalling, a heart of -jeel for the tender moment and a heart of iron for the hard. But black, -black, were his vapours when the sun shone, which is surely the poorest -of excuses for dolours. I think he hated the flatness of the land we -travelled in. To me it was none amiss, for though it was winter I could -fancy how rich would be the grass of July in the polders compared with -our poor stunted crops at home, and that has ever a cheerful influence -on any man that has been bred in Lowland fields. But he (if I did not -misread his eye) looked all ungratefully on the stretching leagues that -ever opened before us as we sailed on waterways or jolted on the roads. - -"I do not ken how it may be with you, Mr. Greig," he said one day as, -somewhere in Brabant, our sluggish vessel opened up a view of canal that -seemed to stretch so far it pricked the eye of the setting sun, and -the windmills whirled on either hand ridiculous like the games of -children--"I do not ken how it may be with you, but I'm sick of this -country. It's no better nor a bannock, and me so fond of Badenoch!" - -"Indeed and there's a sameness about every part of it," I confessed, -"and yet it has its qualities. See the sun on yonder island--'tis -pleasant enough to my notion, and as for the folk, they are not the cut -of our own, but still they have very much in common with folks I've seen -in Ayr." - -He frowned at that unbelievingly, and cast a sour eye upon some women -that stood upon a bridge. "Troth!" said he, "you would not compare these -limmers with our own. I have not seen a light foot and a right dark eye -since ever I put the back of me to the town of Inverness in the year of -'Fifty-six.'" - -"Nor I since I left the Mearns," I cried, suddenly thinking of Isobel -and forgetting all that lay between that lass and me. - -"Oh! oh!" cried Kilbride. "And that's the way of it? Therms more than -Clemie Walkinshaw, is there? I was ill to convince that a nephew of Andy -Greig's began the game at the age of twenty-odd with a lady that might -have been his mother." - -I felt very much ashamed that he should have any knowledge of this part -of my history, and seeing it he took to bantering me. - -"Come, come!" said he, "you must save my reputation with myself for -penetration, for I aye argued with Buhot that your tanglement with -madame was something short of innocency for all your mim look, and he -was for swearing the lady had found a fool." - -"I am beat to understand how my affairs came to be the topic of dispute -with you and Buhot?" said I, astonished. - -"And what for no'?" said he. "Wasn't the man's business to find out -things, and would you have me with no interest in a ploy when it turned -up? There were but the two ways of it--you were all the gomeral in love -that Buhot thought you, or you were Andy Greig's nephew and willing to -win the woman's favour (for all her antiquity) by keeping Buhot in the -news of Hamilton's movements." - -"Good God!" I cried, "that was a horrible alternative!" even then -failing to grasp all that he implied. - -"Maybe," he said pawkily; "but you cannot deny you kept them very well -informed upon your master's movements, otherwise it had gone very hard -perhaps with his Royal Highness." - -"Me!" I cried. "I would have as soon informed upon my father. And who -was there to inform?" - -Kilbride looked at me curiously as if he half doubted my innocence. "It -is seldom I have found the man Buhot in a lie of the sort," said -he, "but he led me to understand that what information he had of the -movements of the priest came from yourself." - -I jumped to my feet, and almost choked in denying it. - -"Oh, very well, very well!" said Kilbride coolly. "There is no need to -make a _fracas_ about the matter. I am just telling you what Buhot told -me. And troth! it was a circumstantial story he had of it; for he said -that the Marshal Duke de Bellisle, and Monsieur Florentin, and Monsieur -Berrier, and all the others of the Cabinet, had Fleuriau's name and -direction from yourself, and found the plot had some connection with the -affair of Damiens. George Kelly, the Prince's secretary, was another -man that told me." He gazed along the deck of the scow we sat in, as -if thinking hard, and then turned to me with a hesitating suggestion. -"Perhaps," said he, "you are forgetting. Perhaps you wrote the woman and -told her innocently enough, and that would come to the same thing." - -I was overwhelmed with confusion at the idea, though the possibility of -my letters being used had once before occurred to me. - -"Well, if you must know, it is true I wrote some letters to Miss -Walkinshaw," I confessed shamefacedly. "But they were very carefully -transmitted by Bernard the Swiss to her, for I got her answers back." - -He burst out laughing. - -"For simplicity you beat all!" cried he. "You sent your news through -the Swiss, that was in Buhot's pay, and took the charge from Hamilton's -pistols, and did his part in helping you to escape from jyle with a -great degree of humour as those of us who knew what was afoot had to -agree, and you think the man would swither about peeping into a letter -you entrusted to him, particularly if it was directed to hersel'! The -sleep-bag was under your head sure enough, as the other man said." - -"And I was the unconscious wretch that betrayed our hiding in the Hotel -Dieu!" I cried with much chagrin, seeing at a flash what all this meant. -"If I had Bernard here I could thraw his neck." - -"Indeed," said he, "and what for should it be Bernard? The man but did -what he was told, and there, by my troth! when I think of it, I'm no' so -sure that he was any different from yourself." - -"What do you mean?" said I. - -"Oh, just that hersel' told you to keep her informed of your movements -and you did so. In Bernard and you she had a pair of spies instead of -only the one had she trusted in either." - -"And what in all the world would she be doing that for?" - -"What but for her lover the prince?" said he with a sickening promptness -that some way left me without a doubt he spoke with knowledge. "Foul fa' -the day he ever clapt eyes on her! for she has the cunning of the fox, -though by all accounts a pleasant person. They say she has a sister -that's in the service of the queen at St. James's, and who kens but for -all her pretended affection for Tearlach she may be playing all the time -into the hands of his enemies? She made you and this Bernard the -means of putting an end to the Jesuit plot upon his Royal Highness by -discovering the source of it, and now the Jesuits, as I'm told, are to -be driven furth the country and putten to the horn." - -I was stunned by this revelation of what a tool I had been in the hands -of one I fancied briefly that I was in love with. For long I sat silent -pondering on it, and at last unable to make up my mind whether I should -laugh or swear. Kilbride, while affecting to pay no heed to me, was keen -enough to see my perturbation, and had, I think, a sort of pride that he -had been able to display such an astuteness. - -"I'm afraid," said I at last, "there is too much probability in all that -you have said and thought. I am a stupendous ass, Mr. MacKellar, and you -are a very clever man." - -"Not at all, not at all!" he protested hurriedly. "I have just some -natural Hielan' interest in affairs of intrigue, and you have not (by -your leave) had my advantages of the world, for I have seen much of the -evil as well as the good of it, and never saw a woman's hand in aught -yet but I wondered what mischief she was planning. There's much, -I'm telling you, to be learned about a place like Fontainebleau or -Versailles, and I advantaged myself so well of my opportunities there -that you could not drive a hole but I would put a nail in it, as the -other man said." - -"Well," said I, "my hope is that I may never meet the woman again, and -that's without a single angry feeling to her." - -"You need not fear about that," said he. "The thing that does not lie in -your road will never break your leg, as the other man said, and I'll be -surprised if she puts herself in your way again now that her need for -you is done. A score of your friends in Dunkerque could have told you -that she was daft about him. I might be vexed for you if I did not know -from your own mouth of the other one in Mearns." - -"We'll say nothing about that," I says, "for that's a tale that's by -wi'. She's lost to me." - -He gave a little chuckle and had that turn in the eye that showed he had -a curious thought. - -"What are you laughing at?" I asked. "Oh, just an old word we have in -the Language, that with a two-deer stag-hound it will be happening often -that a stag's amissing." - -"There's another thing I would like you to tell me out of your -experience," I said, "and that is the reason for the Prince's doing me -a good turn with the one hand and a bad one with the other; using his -efforts to get me the lieutenancy and at the same time putting a man on -my track to quarrel with me?" - -"It's as plain as the nose on your face," he cried. "It was no great -situation he got you when it was in the Regiment d'Auvergne, as you -have discovered, but it would be got I'll warrant on the pressure of the -Walkinshaw one. Just because she had that interest in you to press him -for the post, and you were in the trim to keep up a correspondence with -her (though in his own interest, as he must know, so far as she was -concerned), he would want you out of the road. Love is like lairdship, -Hazel Den, and it puts up very poorly with fellowship, as the other man -said." - -I thought of the occasions when his Royal Highness had seen me at night -in front of a certain window in the Rue de la Boucherie, and concluded -that Kilbride in this too had probably hit the mark. - -And so we passed through Holland in many changes of weather that finally -turned to a black frost, which covered the canals with ice whereon -skated the Dutch folks very pleasantly, but we were the losers, as the -rest of our journey had to be made by post. - -It was well on in the winter when we got to Helvoetsluys. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - -FATHER HAMILTON IS THREATENED BY THE JESUITS AND WE ARE FORCED TO FLY -AGAIN - -The priest, poor man! aged a dozen years by his anxieties since I had -seen him last, was dubious of his senses when I entered where he lodged, -and he wept like a bairn to see my face again. - -"Scotland! Scotland! beshrew me, child, and I'd liefer have this than -ten good dinners at Verray's!" cried he, and put his arms about my -shoulders and buried his face in my waistcoat to hide his uncontrollable -tears. - -He was quartered upon a pilot of the Schelde and Hollands Deep, whose -only child he made a shift to tutor in part payment of his costs, and -the very moment that we had come in upon him he was full of a matter -that had puzzled him for weeks before we came to Helvoetsluys. 'Twas a -thing that partly hurt his pride, though that may seem incredible, and -partly gave him pleasure, and 'twas merely that when he had at last -found his concealment day and night in the pilot's house unendurable, -and ventured a stroll or two upon the dunes in broad sunshine, no one -paid any attention to him. There were soldiers and sailors that must -have some suspicions of his identity, and he had himself read his own -story and description in one of the gazettes, yet never a hand was -raised to capture him. - -"_Ma foi!_ Paul," he cried to me in a perplexity. "I am the most -marvellous priest unfrocked, invisible to the world as if I had -Mambrino's helmet. Sure it cannot be that I am too stale quarry for -their hunting! My _amour propre_ baulks at such conclusion. I that -have--heaven help me!--loaded pistols against the Lord's anointed, might -as well have gone shooting sparrows for all the infamy it has gained me. -But yesterday I passed an officer of the peace that cried '_Bon jour_, -father,' in villainous French with a smile so sly I could swear he knew -my history from the first breeching. I avow that my hair stirred under -my hat when he said it." - -MacKellar stood by contemptuous of the priest's raptures over his -restored secretary. - -"Goodness be about us!" he said, "what a pity the brock should be hiding -when there's nobody hunting him! The first squirt of the haggis is -always the hottest, as the other man said. If they were keen on -your track at the start of it--and it's myself has the doubt of that -same--you may warrant they are slack on it now. It's Buhot himself would -be greatly put about if you went to the jail and put out your hands for -the manacles." - -Father Hamilton looked bewildered. - -"Expiscate, good Monsieur MacKellar," said he. - -"Kilbride just means," said I, "that you are in the same case as myself, -and that orders have gone out that no one is to trouble you." - -He believed it, and still he was less cheerful than I looked for. -"Indeed, 'tis like enough," he sighed. "I have put my fat on a trap for -a fortnight back to catch my captors and never a rat of them will come -near me, but pass with sniffing noses. And yet on my word I have little -to rejoice for. My friends have changed coats with my enemies because -they swear I betrayed poor Fleuriau. I'd sooner die on the rack----" - -"Oh, Father Hamilton!" I could not help crying, with remorse upon my -countenance. He must have read the story in a single glance at me, for -he stammered and took my hand. - -"What! there too, Scotland!" he said. "I forswear the company of -innocence after this. No matter, 'tis never again old Dixmunde parish -for poor Father Hamilton that loved his flock well enough and believed -the best of everybody and hated the confessional because it made the -world so wicked. My honey-bees will hum next summer among another's -flowers, and my darling blackbirds will be all starving in this -pestilent winter weather. Paul, Paul, hear an old man's wisdom--be -frugal in food, and raiment, and pleasure, and let thy ambitions -flutter, but never fly too high to come down at a whistle. But here am -I, old Pater Dull, prating on foolish little affairs, and thou and our -honest friend here new back from the sounding of the guns. Art a brave -fighter, lad? I heard of thee in the grenadier company of d'Auvergne." - -"We did the best part of our fighting with our shanks, as the other man -said," cried Kilbride. "But Mr. Greig came by a clout that affected his -mind and made him clean forget the number of his regiment, and that is -what for the lowlands of Holland is a very pleasant country just now." - -"Wounded!" cried the priest, disturbed at this intelligence. "Had I -known on't I should have prayed for thy deliverance." - -"I have little doubt he did that for himself," said Kilbride. "When -I came on him after Rosbach he was behind a dyke, that is not a bad -alternative for prayer when the lead is in the air." - -We made up our minds to remain for a while at Helvoet, but we had not -determined what our next step should be, when in came the priest one day -with his face like clay and his limbs trembling. - -"Ah, Paul!" he cried, and fell into a chair; "here's Nemesis, daughter -of Nox, a scurvy Italian, and wears a monkish cowl. I fancied it were -too good to be true that I should be free from further trials." - -"Surely Buhot has not taken it into his head to move again," I cried. -"That would be very hirpling justice after so long an interval. And in -any case they could scarcely hale you out of the Netherlands." - -"No, lad, not Buhot," said he, perspiring with his apprehensions, "but -the Society. There's one Gordoletti, a pretended Lutheran that hails -from Jena, that has been agent between the Society and myself before -now, and when I was out there he followed me upon the street with the -eyes of a viper. I'll swear the fellow has a poignard and means the -letting of blood. I know how 'twill be--a watch set upon this building, -Gordoletti upon the steps some evening; a jostle, a thrust, and a -speeding shade. A right stout shade too! if spirits are in any relation -of measure to the corporeal clay. Oh, lad, what do I say? my sinner's -wit must be evincing in the front of doom itself." - -I thought he simply havered, but found there was too real cause for his -distress. That afternoon the monk walked up and down the street without -letting his eyes lose a moment's sight of the entrance to the pilot's -house where Father Hamilton abode. I could watch him all the better -because I shared a room with Kilbride on the same side of the street, -and even to me there was something eerie in the sight of this long -thin stooping figure in its monkish garment, slouching on the stones -or hanging over the parapet of the bridge, his eyes, lambent black and -darting, over his narrow chafts. Perhaps it was but fancy, yet I thought -I saw in the side of his gown the unmistakable bulge of a dagger. He -paced the street for hours or leaned over the parapet affecting an -interest in the barges, and all the time the priest sat fascinated -within, counting his sentence come. - -"Oh, by my faith and it is not so bad as that," I protested on returning -to find him in this piteous condition. "Surely there are two swords here -that at the worst of it can be depended on to protect you." - -He shook his head dolefully. "It is no use, Paul," he cried. "The -poignard or the phial--'tis all the same to them or Gordoletti, and -hereafter I dare not touch a drop of wine or indulge in a meagre soup." - -"But surely," I said, "there may be a mistake, and this Gordoletti may -have nothing to do with you." - -"The man wears a cowl--a monkish cowl--and that is enough for me. A -Jesuit out of his customary _soutane_ is like the devil in dancing -shoes--be sure his lordship means mischief. Oh! Paul, I would I were -back in Bicetre and like to die there cleaner than on the banks of a -Dutch canal. I protest I hate to think of dying by a canal." - -Still I was incredulous that harm was meant to him, and he proceeded -to tell me the Society of Jesus was upon the brink of dissolution, and -desperate accordingly. The discovery of Fleuriau's plot against the -Prince had determined the authorities upon the demolition and extinction -of the Jesuits throughout the whole of the King's dominion. Their riches -and effects and churches were to be seized to the profit and emolument -of the Crown; the reverend Fathers were to be banished furth of France -for ever. Designs so formidable had to be conducted cautiously, and so -far the only evidence of a scheme against the Society was to be seen -in the Court itself, where the number of priests of the order was being -rapidly diminished. - -I thought no step of the civil power too harsh against the band of whom -the stalking man in the cowl outside was representative, and indeed the -priest at last half-infected myself with his terrors. We sat well back -from the window looking out upon the street till it was dusk. There was -never a moment when the assassin (as I still must think him) was not -there, his interest solely in the house we sat in. And when it was -wholly dark, and a single lamp of oil swinging on a cord across the -thoroughfare lit the passage of the few pedestrians that went along the -street, Gordoletti was still close beneath it, silent, meditating, and -alert. - -MacKellar came in from his coffee-house. We sat in darkness, except -for the flicker of a fire of peat. He must have thought the spectacle -curious. - -"My goodness!" cried he, "candles must be unco dear in this shire when -the pair of you cannot afford one between you to see each other yawning. -I'm of a family myself that must be burning a dozen at a time and at -both ends to make matters cheery, for it's a gey glum world at the best -of it." - -He stumbled over to the mantel-shelf where there was customarily a -candle; found and lit it, and held it up to see if there was any visible -reason for our silence. - -The priest's woebegone countenance set him into a shout of laughter. His -amusement scarcely lessened when he heard of the ominous gentleman in -the cowl. - -"Let me see!" he said, and speedily devised a plan to test the occasion -of Father Hamilton's terrors. He arranged that he should dress himself -in the priest's garments, and as well as no inconsiderable difference -in their bulk might let him, simulate the priest by lolling into the -street. - -"A brave plan verily," quo' the priest, "but am I a bowelless rogue to -let another have my own particular poignard? No, no, Messieurs, let me -pay for my own _pots casses_ and run my own risks in my own _soutane_." - -With that he rose to his feet and was bold enough to offer a trial that -was attended by considerable hazard. - -It was determined, however, that I should follow close upon the heels -of Kilbride in his disguise, prepared to help him in the case of too -serious a surprise. - -The night was still. There were few people in the street, which was one -of several that led down to the quays. The sky had but a few wan stars. -When MacKellar stepped forth in the priest's hat and cloak, he walked -slowly towards the harbour, ludicrously imitating the rolling gait of -his reverence, while I stayed for a little in the shelter of the -door. Gordoletti left his post upon the bridge and stealthily followed -Kilbride. I gave him some yards of law and followed Gordoletti. - -Our footsteps sounded on the stones; 'twas all that broke the evening -stillness except the song of a roysterer who staggered upon the quays. -The moment was fateful in its way and yet it ended farcically, for ere -he had gained the foot of the street Kilbride turned and walked back to -meet the man that stalked him. We closed upon the Italian to find him -baffled and confused. - -"Take that for your attentions!" cried Kilbride, and buffeted the fellow -on the ear, a blow so secular and telling from a man in a frock that -Gordoletti must have thought himself bewitched, for he gave a howl -and took to his heels. Kilbride attempted to stop him, but the cassock -escaped his hands and his own unwonted costume made a chase hopeless. As -for me, I was content to let matters remain as they were now that Father -Hamilton's suspicions seemed too well founded. - -It did not surprise me that on learning of our experience the priest -should determine on an immediate departure from Helvoetsluys. But where -he was to go was more than he could readily decide. He proposed and -rejected a score of places--Bordeaux, Flanders, the Hague, Katwyk -farther up the coast, and many others--weighing the advantages of each, -enumerating his acquaintances in each, discovering on further thought -that each and every one of them had some feature unfavourable to his -concealment from the Jesuits. - -"You would be as long tuning your pipes as another would be playing a -tune," said Kilbride at last. "There's one thing sure of it, that you -cannot be going anywhere the now without Mr. Greig and myself, and what -ails you at Dunkerque in which we have all of us acquaintances?" - -A season ago the suggestion would have set my heart in flame; but now -it left me cold. Yet I backed up the proposal, for I reflected that -(keeping away from the Rue de la Boucherie) we might there be among a -good many friends. Nor was his reverence ill to influence in favour of -the proposal. - -The next morning saw us, then, upon a hoy that sailed for Calais and was -bargained to drop us at Dunkerque. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - -I OVERHEAR THE PLAN OF BRITAIN'S INVASION - -I began these chronicles with a homily upon the pregnancy of chance -that gives the simplest of our acts ofttimes far-reaching and appalling -consequences. It is clear that I had never become the Spoiled Horn -and vexed my parents' lives had not a widow woman burned her batch of -scones, and though perhaps the pair of shoes in the chest bequeathed -to me by my Uncle Andrew were without the magic influence he and I -gave credit for, it is probable that I had made a different flight from -Scotland had they not led me in the way of Daniel Risk. - -And even now their influence was not ended. During the months I had -spent at soldiering the red shoes reposed among my baggage; even when -I had changed from the uniform of the Regiment d'Auvergne upon the -frontier of Holland, and made myself again a common citizen of Europe, I -had some freit (as we say of a superstition) against resuming the shoes -that had led me previously into divers perils. But the day we left -Helvoet in the Hollands Deep hoy, I was so hurried in my departure that -the red shoes were the only ones I could lay hands on. As luck would -have it, when I entered Dunkerque for the last time in my history some -days after, I was wearing the same leather as on the first day of my -arrival there, and the fact led, by a singularity of circumstances, to -my final severance from many of those: companions--some of them pleasant -and unforgetable--I had made acquaintance with in France. - -It was thus that the thing happened. - -When we entered Dunkerque, the priest, Kilbride, and I went to an inn -upon the sea front. Having breakfasted I was deputed to go forth and -call upon Thurot, explain our circumstances, take his counsel, and -return to the hoy where my two friends would return to wait for me. He -was out when I reached his lodging, but his Swiss--a different one from -what he had before when I was there--informed me that his master was -expected back at any moment, and invited me to step in and wait for him. -I availed myself of the opportunity. - -Our voyage along the coast had been delayed by contrary winds, so that -now it was the Sabbath; the town was by-ordinary still (though indeed -Sabbath nor Saturday made much difference, as a rule, on the gaiety of -Dunkerque), and wearied by the sea travel that had just concluded I fell -fast asleep in Captain Thurot's chair. - -I was wakened by a loud knocking at the outer door, not the first, as -it may be remembered, that called me forth from dreams to new twists of -fortune, and I started to my feet to meet my host. - -What was my chagrin to hear the Prince's voice in converse with him on -the stair! - -"Here is a pretty pickle!" I told myself. "M. Albany is the last man -on earth I would choose to meet at this moment," and without another -reflection I darted into the adjoining room and shut the door. It was -Thurot's bed-chamber, with a window that looked out upon the court -where fowls were cackling. I was no sooner in than I somewhat rued my -precipitation, for the manlier course indubitably had been to bide where -I was. But now there was no retreating, so I sat with what patience I -could command to wait my discovery by the tenant of the place after -his royal visitor was gone. - -It was the Sabbath day as I have said, and the chimes of St. Eloi were -going briskly upon some papist canticle, but not so loud that I could -not hear, in spite of myself, all that went on in the next room. - -At first I paid no heed, for the situation was unworthy enough of itself -without any attempt on my part to be an eavesdropper. But by-and-bye, -through the banging of the bells of St. Eloi, I heard M. Albany (still -to give the man his by-name) mention the name Ecosse. - -Scotland! The name of her went through me like a pang! - -They spoke in French of course; I think I could have understood them -had it been Chinese. For they discussed some details of the intended -invasion that still hung fire, and from the first of M. Albany's -sentences I learned that the descent was determined upon Scotland. 'Twas -that which angered me and made me listen for the rest with every sense -of the spy and deterred by never a scruple. At first I had fancied -Thurot would learn from his servant I was in the house, and leave me -alone till his royal guest's departure from an intuition that I desired -no meeting, but it was obvious now that no such consideration would have -induced him to let me hear the vast secret they discussed. - -"Twenty thousand men are between Brest and Vannes," said M. Albany. "We -shall have them in frigates in a fortnight from to-day, and then, _mon -Capitaine_, affairs shall move briskly." - -"And still," said Thurot, who had some odd tone of dissatisfaction in -his voice, "I had preferred it had been the South of England. Dumont has -given us every anchorage and sounding on the coast between Beachy Head -and Arundel, and from there we could all the sooner have thrust at the -heart of England. This Scotland--" - -"Bah! Captain Thurot," cried his Royal Highness impatiently, "you talk -like a fool. At the heart, indeed! With all habitable England like a fat -about it, rich with forts and troops and no more friendship for us than -for the Mameluke! No, no, Thurot, I cry Scotland; all the chances are -among the rocks, and I am glad it has been so decided on." - -"And still, with infinite deference, your Royal Highness, this same -West of Scotland never brought but the most abominable luck to you and -yours," continued Thurot. "Now, Arundel Bay----" - -"Oh! to the devil with Arundel Bay!" cried M. Albany; "'tis settled -otherwise, and you must take it as you find it. Conflans and his men -shall land upon the West--_mon Dieu!_ I trust they may escape its fangs; -and measures will be there taken with more precaution and I hope with -more success than in Seventeen Forty-five. Thence they will march to -England, sweeping the whole country before them, and not leaving behind -them a man or boy who can carry a musket. Thus they must raise the army -to fifty or sixty thousand men, strike a terror into England, and carry -all with a high hand. I swear 'tis a fatted hog this England: with -fewer than ten thousand Highlanders I have made her thrill at the very -vitals." - -Thurot hummed. Plainly there was much in the project that failed to meet -his favour. - -"And Conflans?" said he. - -His Royal Highness laughed. - -"Ha! Captain," said he, "I know, I know. 'Twould suit you better if a -certain Tony Thurot had command." - -"At least," said Thurot, "I am in my prime, while the Marshal is beyond -his grand climacteric." - -"And still, by your leave, with the reputation of being yet the best-- -well, let us say among the best--of the sea officers of France. Come, -come, Captain, there must be no half-hearts in this venture; would to -Heaven I were permitted to enjoy a share in it! And on you, my friend, -depends a good half of the emprise and the _gloire_." - -"_Gloire!_" cried Thurot. "With every deference to your Royal Highness -I must consider myself abominably ill-used in this matter. That I should -be sent off to Norway and hound-in wretched Swedes with a personage like -Flaubert! Oh, I protest, 'tis beyond all reason! Is it for that I have -been superseded by a man like Conflans that totters on the edge of the -grave?" - -"I hope 'tis England's grave," retorted M. Albany with unfailing good -humour, and I heard the gluck of wine as he helped himself to another -glass. "I repeat _gloire_, with every apology to the experience of M. le -Corsair. 'Tis your duty to advance with your French and your Swedes upon -the North of England, and make the diversion in these parts that shall -inconvenience the English army front or rear." - -"Oh, curse your diversions!" cried Thurot. "If I have a talent at all -'tis for the main attack. And this Conflans----" - -The remainder of the discussion, so far as I remained to hear it, gave -no enlargement upon the plan thus laid bare. But in any case my whole -desire now was to escape from the house without discovery, for I had -news that made my return to Britain imperative. - -I opened the window quietly and slipped out. The drop to the court was -less than my own height. Into the street I turned with the sober step -of leisure, yet my feet tingled to run hard and my heart was stormy. The -bells of St. Eloi went on ringing; the streets were growing busy -with holiday-makers and the soldiers who were destined to over-run my -country. I took there and then the most dreadful hatred of them, and -scowled so black that some of the soldiers cried after me with a jeer. - -The priest and Kilbride I found were not at the inn where I had left -them, having gone back to the vessel, so I hurried down to the quay -after them. The hoy had been moved since morning, and in the throng of -other vessels that were in the harbour at the time I lost well-nigh an -hour in seeking her. Whether that was well for me or ill would be folly -now to guess, but when I had no more than set a foot upon the gunwale -of a small boat that was to take me out to her I was clapped upon the -shoulder. - -I turned, to see Thurot and two officers of marine! - -"Pardon, M. Greig, a moment," said Thurot, with not the kindest of -tones. "Surely you would not hurry out of Dunkerque without a _conge_ -for old friends?" - -I stammered some sentences that were meant to reassure him. He -interrupted me, and--not with any roughness, but with a pressure there -was no mistaking and I was not fool enough to resist--led me from the -side of the quay. - -"_Ma foi!_" said he, "'Tis the most ridiculous thing! I had nearly -missed you and could never have forgiven myself. My Swiss has just -informed me that you were in the house an hour ago while I was there -myself. I fear we must have bored you, M. Albany and I, with our dull -affairs. At least there was no other excuse for your unceremonious -departure through my back window." - -I was never well-equipped to conceal my feelings, and it was plain in my -face that I knew all. - -He sighed. - -"Well, lad," said he, rather sorrowfully, "I'd give a good many _louis -d'or_ that you had come visiting at another hour of the day, and -now there's but one thing left me. My Swiss did not know you, but -he has--praise _le bon Dieu!_--a pair of eyes in his head, and -he remembered that my visitor wore red shoes. Red shoes and a -Scotsman!--the conjunction was unmistakable, and here we are, M. Greig. -There are a score of men looking all over Dunkerque at this moment for -these same shoes." - -"Confound the red shoes!" I cried, unable to conceal my vexation that -they should once more have brought me into trouble. - -"By no means, M. Greig," said Thurot. "But for them we should never -have identified our visitor, and a somewhat startling tale was over the -Channel a little earlier than we intended. And now all that I may do for -old friendship to yourself and the original wearer of the shoes is to -give you a free trip to England in my own vessel. 'Tis not the _Roi -Rouge_ this time--worse luck!--but a frigate, and we can be happy enough -if you are not a fool." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - -THUROT'S PRISONER. MY FRIEND THE WATCH - -It was plain from the first that my overhearing of the plot must compel -Thurot to the step he took. He was not unkind, but so much depended on -the absolute secrecy of the things he had talked to the Prince, that, -even at the unpleasant cost of trepanning me, he must keep me from -carrying my new-got information elsewhere. For that reason he refused to -accede to my request for a few minutes' conversation with the priest or -my fellow-countrymen. The most ordinary prudence, he insisted, demanded -that he should keep me in a sort of isolation until it was too late to -convey a warning across the Channel. - -It was for these reasons I was taken that Sabbath afternoon to the -frigate that was destined to be in a humble sense his flagship, and was -lying in the harbour with none of her crew as yet on board. I was given -a cabin; books were furnished to cheer my incarceration, for it was -no less. I was to all intents and purposes a prisoner, though enjoying -again some of the privileges of the _salle d'epreuves_ for the sake of -old acquaintance. - -All that day I planned escape. Thurot came to the cabin and smoked and -conversed pleasantly, but found me so abstracted that he could scarcely -fail to think I meant a counter-sap. - -"Be tranquil, my Paul," he advised; "Clancarty and I will make your life -on ship-board as little irksome as possible, but it is your own cursed -luck that you must make up your mind to a fortnight of it." - -But that was considerably longer than I was ready to think of with -equanimity. What I wished for was an immediate freedom and a ship to -England, and while he talked I reviewed a dozen methods of escape. Here -was I with a secret worth a vast deal to the British Government; if I -could do my country that service of putting her into possession of it -in time to prevent catastrophe, might I not, without presumption, expect -some clemency from her laws for the crime I had committed in the -hot blood of ignorant and untutored youth? I saw the most cheerful -possibilities rise out of that accident that had made me an eavesdropper -in Thurot's lodging--freedom, my family perhaps restored to me, my name -partly re-established; but the red shoes that set me on wrong roads to -start with still kept me on them. Thurot was an amiable enough gaoler, -but not his best wine nor his wittiest stories might make me forget by -how trivial a chance I had lost my opportunity. - -We were joined in the afternoon by Lord Clancarty. - -"What, lad!" cried his lordship, pomaded and scented beyond words; -fresh, as he told us, from the pursuit of a lady whose wealth was -shortly to patch up his broken fortunes. "What, lad! Here's a pretty -matter! Pressed, egad! A renegade against his will! 'Tis the most cursed -luck, Captain Thurot, and wilt compel the poor young gentleman to cut -the throats of his own countrymen?" - -"I? Faith, not I!" said Thurot. "I press none but filthy Swedes. M. -Greig has my word for it that twelve hours before we weigh anchor he may -take his leave of us. _Je le veux bien_." - -"Bah! 'Tis an impolite corsair this. As for me I should be inconsolable -to lose M. Greig to such a dull country as this England. Here's an -Occasion, M. le Capitaine, for pledging his health in a bottle, and -wishing him well out of his troubles." - -"You do not stand sufficiently on your dignity, Clancarty," laughed -Thurot. "Here's the enemy--" - -"Dignity! pooh!" said his lordship. "To stand on that I should need a -year's practice first on the tight-rope. There's that about an Irish -gentleman that makes the posturings and proprieties and pretences of -the fashionable world unnecessary. Sure, race will show in his face -and action if he stood alone in his shirt-sleeves on a village common -juggling balls. I am of the oldest blood that springs in Irish kings. -'Tis that knowledge keeps my heart up when circumstances make the world -look rotten like a cheese. But the curst thing is one cannot for ever -be drinking and dining off a pedigree, and here I am deserted by M. -Tete-de-mouche----" - -Thurot put up his hand to check one of these disloyalties to the -Pretender that I had long since learned were common with Lord Clancarty. - -"Bah!" cried his lordship. "I love you, Tony, and all the other boys, -but your Prince is a madman--a sotted madman tied to the petticoat tails -of a trollope. This Walkinshaw--saving your presence, Paul Greig, for -she's your countrywoman and by way of being your friend, I hear--has -ruined Charles and the Cause. We have done what we could to make him -send madame back to the place she came from, but he'll do nothing of the -kind. 'She has stuck by me through thick and thin, and lost all for me, -and now I shall stick by her,' says foolish Master Sentiment." - -"Bravo!" cried Thurot. "'Tis these things make us love the Prince and -have faith in his ultimate success." - -"You were ever the hopeful ass, Tony," said his lordship coolly. "_Il -riest pire sourd que celui qui ne veut pas entendre_, and you must shut -your ears against a tale that all the world is shouting at the pitch of -its voice. Who knows better than Tony Thurot how his Royal Highness has -declined? Why! 'tis manifest in the fellow's nose; I declare he drinks -like a fish--another vice he brought back from your mountain land, M. -Greig, along with Miss Walkinshaw----" - -"There is far too much of Miss Walkinshaw about your lordship's -remarks," I cried in an uncontrollable heat that the lady should be the -subject of implications so unkind. - -He stared, and then kissed his hand to me with laughter and a bow, "Ha!" -he cried, "here's another young gentleman of sentiment. Stap me if I say -a word against the lady for your sake, Andy Greig's nephew." And back he -went to his bottle. - -In this light fashion we spent a day that by rights should have been -more profitably and soberly occupied. The frigate lay well out from the -quays from which Thurot had conveyed me with none of the indignities -that might be expected by a prisoner. There was, as I have said, none of -her crew on board save a watch of two men. Beside her quarter there hung -a small smuggling cutter that had been captured some days previously. As -I sat in the cabin, yawning at the hinder-end over Clancarty's sallies, -I could hear now and then the soft thudding of the smuggler's craft -against the fenders as the sea rocked us lightly, and it put a mad fancy -into my head. - -How good it would be, I thought, to be free on board such a vessel and -speeding before a light wind to Britain! Was it wholly impossible? The -notion so possessed me that I took an occasion to go on deck and see how -things lay. - -The smuggler's boat had her mast stepped, but no sails in her. Over the -bulwark of the frigate leaned one of the watch idly looking at sea-gulls -that cried like bairns upon the smuggler's thwarts and gunnels. He was -a tarry Dutchman (by his build and colour); I fancy that at the time he -never suspected I was a prisoner, for he saluted me with deference. - -The harbour was emptier than usual of shipping. Dusk was falling on the -town; some lights were twinkling wanly and bells rang in the cordage -of the quays. I asked the seaman if he knew where the hoy _Vrijster_ of -Helvoetsluys lay. - -At that his face brightened and he promptly pointed to her yellow hull -on the opposite side of the harbour. - -"Did my honour know Captain Breuer?" he asked, in crabbed French. - -My honour was very pleased to confess that he did, though in truth my -acquaintance with the skipper who had taken us round from Helvoetsluys -went scarcely further than sufficed me to recall his name. - -The best sailor ever canted ship! my Dutchman assured me with -enthusiasm. How often have I heard the self-same sentiment from -mariners? for there is something jovial and kind in the seaman's manner -that makes him ever fond of the free, the brave and competent of his own -calling, and ready to cry their merits round the rolling world. - -A good seaman certainly!--I agreed heartily, though the man might have -been merely middling for all I knew of him. - -He would like nothing better than to have an hour with Captain Breuer, -said Mynheer. - -"And I, too," said I quickly. "But for Captain Thurot's pressing desire -that I should spend the evening here I should be in Breuer's cabin now. -Next to being with him there I would reckon the privilege of having him -here." - -There might be very little difficulty about that if my honour was -willing, said Mynheer. They were old shipmates; had sailed the Zuyder -Sea together, and drunken in a score of ports. Dearly indeed would he -love to have some discourse with Breuer. But to take leave from the -frigate and cross to the hoy--no! Captain Thurot would not care for him -to do that. - -"Why not have Breuer come to the frigate?" I asked, with my heart -beating fast. - -"Why, indeed?" repeated Mynheer with a laugh. "A hail across the harbour -would not fetch him." - -"Then go for him," said I, my heart beating faster than ever lest he -should have some suspicion of my condition and desires. - -He reminded me that he had no excuse to leave the frigate, though to -take the small boat at the stern and row over to the hoy would mean but -a minute or two. - -"Well, as for excuses," said I, "that's easily arranged, for I can give -you one to carry a note to the care of the captain, and you may take it -at your leisure." - -At his leisure! He would take it at once and thankfully while we -gentlemen were drinking below, for there was no pleasure under heaven he -could compare with half an hour of good Jan Breuer's company. - -Without betraying my eagerness to avail myself of such an unlooked-for -opportunity, I deliberately wrote a note in English intimating that I -was a prisoner on the frigate and in pressing humour to get out of -her at the earliest moment. I addressed it to Kilbride, judging the -Highlander more likely than Father Hamilton to take rational steps for -my release if that were within the bounds of possibility. - -I assured the seaman that if he lost no time in taking it over I would -engage his absence would never be noticed, and he agreed to indicate to -me by a whistle when he returned. - -With a cheerful assurance that he would have Jan Breuer on this deck in -less than twenty minutes the seaman loosed the painter of the small -boat and set forth upon his errand, while I returned to the cabin where -Thurot and Clancarty still talked the most contrary and absurd politics -over their wine. The vast and tangled scheme of French intrigue was set -before me; at another time it might have been of the most fascinating -interest, but on this particular occasion I could not subdue my mind to -matters so comparatively trivial, while I kept my hearing strained for -the evidence that the Dutchman had accomplished his mission and got -back. - -The moments passed; the interest flagged; Clancarty began to yawn and -Thurot grew silent. It was manifest that the sooner my Dutchman was back -to his ship the better for my plan. Then it was I showed the brightest -interest in affairs that an hour earlier failed to engage a second of my -attention, and I discovered for the entertainment of my gaoler and -his friend a hitherto unsuspected store of reminiscence about my Uncle -Andrew and a fund of joke and anecdote whereof neither of them probably -had thought me capable. - -But all was useless. The signal that the Dutchman had returned was not -made when Lord Clancarty rose to his feet and intimated his intention -there and then of going ashore, though his manner suggested that it -would have been easy to induce him to wait longer. We went on deck with -him. The night was banked with clouds though a full moon was due; only a -few stars shone in the spaces of the zenith; our vessel was in darkness -except where a lamp swung at the bow. - -"_Mon Dieu!_ Tony, what a pitchy night! I'd liefer be safe ashore than -risking my life getting there in your cockle-shell," said Clancarty. - -"'Art all right, Lord Clancarty," said Thurot. "Here's a man will row -you to the quay in two breaths, and you'll be snug in bed before M. -Greig and I have finished our prayers." Then he cried along the deck for -the seaman. - -I felt that all was lost now the fellow's absence was to be discovered. - -What was my astonishment to hear an answering call, and see the -Dutchman's figure a blotch upon the blackness of the after-deck. - -"Bring round the small boat and take Lord Clancarty ashore," said the -captain, and the seaman hastened to do so. He sprang into the small -boat, released her rope, and brought her round. - -"_A demain_, dear Paul," cried his lordship with a hiccough. "It's curst -unkind of Tony Thurot not to let you ashore on parole or permit me to -wait with you." - -The boat dropped off into the darkness of the harbour, her oars thudding -on the thole-pins. - -"There goes a decent fellow though something of a fool," said Thurot. -"'Tis his kind have made so many enterprises like our own have an -ineffectual end. And now you must excuse me, M. Greig, if I lock you -into your cabin. There are too few of us on board to let you have the -run of the vessel." - -He put a friendly hand upon the shoulder I shrugged with chagrin at this -conclusion to an unfortunate day. - -"Sorry, M. Greig, sorry," he said humorously. "_Qui commence mal finit -mal_, and I wish to heaven you had begun the day by finding Antoine -Thurot at home, in which case we had been in a happier relationship -to-night." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - -DISCLOSES THE MANNER OF MY ESCAPE AND HOW WE SET SAIL FOR ALBION - -Thurot turned the key on me with a pleasantry that was in no accordance -with my mood, and himself retired to the round house on deck where his -berth was situated. I sat on a form for a little, surrendered all to -melancholy, then sought to remove it by reading, as sleep in my present -humour was out of the question. My reading, though it lasted for an hour -or two, was scarcely worth the name, for my mind continually wandered -from the page. I wondered if my note to Kilbride had been delivered, and -if any step on his part was to be expected therefrom; the hope that rose -with that reflection died at once upon the certainty that as the Dutch -seaman had not signalled as he had promised he had somehow learned the -true nature of my condition in the frigate. Had he told Thurot? If he -had told Thurot--which was like enough--that I had communicated with any -one outside the vessel there was little doubt that the latter would take -adequate steps to prevent interference by Kilbride or any one else. - -We are compact of memories, a mere bundle of bygone days, childish -recollections, ancient impressions, and so an older experience came to -me, too, of the night I sat in the filthy cabin of Dan Risk's doomed -vessel hearing the splash of illegitimate oars, anticipating with a mind -scarcely more disturbed than I had just now the step of the officer from -the prison at Blackness and the clutch of the chilly fetters. - -There was a faint but rising nor'-east wind. It sighed among the shrouds -of the frigate. I could hear it even in the cabin, pensive like the call -of the curfew at a great distance. The waves washed against the timbers -in curious short gluckings and hissings. On the vessel herself not a -sound was to be heard, until of a sudden there came a scratching at my -cabin door! - -It was incredible! I had heard no footstep on the companion, and I had -ceased to hope for anything from the Dutchman! - -"Who's there?" I asked softly, and at that the key outside was turned -and I was fronted by Kilbride! - -He wore the most ridiculous travesty of the Dutchman's tarry breeks -and tarpaulin hat and coarse wide jumper, and in the light of my candle -there was a humorous twinkle on his face as he entered, closed the door -softly after him, and sat down beside me. - -"My goodness!" he whispered, "you have a face on you as if you were in a -graveyard watching ghosts. It's time you were steeping the withies to go -away as we say in the Language, and you may be telling me all the story -of it elsewhere." - -"Where's the Dutchman that took my letter?" I asked. - -"Where," said Kilbride, "but in the place that well befits him--at the -lug of an anker of Rotterdam gin taking his honest night's rest. I'm -here guizing in his tarry clothes, and if I were Paul Greig of the Hazel -Den I would be clapping on my hat gey quick and getting out of here -without any more parley." - -"You left him in the hoy!" said I astonished. - -"Faith, there was nothing better for it!" said he coolly. "Breuer gave -him so much of the juniper for old acquaintance that when I left he was -so full of it that he had lost the power of his legs and you might as -well try to keep a string of fish standing." - -"And it was you took Clancarty ashore?" - -"Who else? And I don't think it's a great conceit of myself to believe -I play-acted the Dutch tarry-breeks so very well, though I was in -something of a tremble in case the skipper here would make me out below -my guizard's clothes. You may thank your stars the moon was as late of -rising this night as a man would be that was at a funeral yesterday." -"And where's the other man who was on this vessel?" I asked, preparing -to go. - -"Come on deck and I'll show you," said Kilbride, checking a chuckle of -amusement at something. - -We crept softly on deck into the night now slightly lit by a moon veiled -by watery clouds. The ship seemed all our own and we were free to leave -her when we chose for the small boat hung at her stern. - -"You were asking for the other one," said Kilbride. "There he is," and -he pointed to a huddled figure bound upon the waist. "When I came on -board after landing Clancarty this stupid fellow discovered I was a -stranger and nearly made an outcry; but I hit him on the lug with the -loom of an oar. He'll not be observing very much for a while yet, but -I was bound all the same to put a rope on him to prevent him disturbing -Captain Thurot's sleep too soon." - -We spoke in whispers for the night seemed all ear and I was for ever -haunted by the reflection that Thurot was divided from us by little more -than an inch or two of teak-wood. Now and then the moon peeped through -a rift of cloud and lit a golden roadway over the sea, enticing me -irresistibly home. - -"O God, I wish I was in Scotland!" I said passionately. - -"Less luck than that will have to be doing us," said Kilbride, fumbling -at the painter of the boat. "The hoy sets sail for Calais in an hour -or two, and it's plain from your letter we'll be best to be taking her -round that length." - -"No, not Calais," said I. "It's too serious a business with me for that. -I'm wanting England, and wanting it unco fast." - -"_Oh, Dhe!_" said my countryman, "here's a fellow with the appetite of -Prince Charlie and as likely to gratify it. What for must it be England, -_loachain?_" - -"I can only hint at that," I answered hastily, "and that in a minute. -Are ye loyal?" - -"To a fine fellow called MacKellar first and to my king and country -after?" - -"The Stuarts?" said I. - -He cracked his thumb. "It's all by with that," said he quickly and not -without a tone of bitterness. - -"The breed of them has never been loyal to me, and if I could wipe out -of my life six months of the cursedest folly in Forty-five I would go -back to Scotland with the first chance and throw my bonnet for Geordie -ever after like the greasiest burgess ever sold a wab of cloth or a -cargo of Virginia in Glasgow." - -"Then," I said, "you and me's bound for England this night, for I have -that in my knowledge should buy the safety of the pair of us," and I -briefly conveyed my secret. - -He softly whistled with astonishment. - -"Man! it's a gey taking idea," he confessed. "But the bit is to get over -the Channel." - -"I have thought of that," said I. "Here's a smuggler wanting no more -than a rag of sail in this wind to make the passage in a couple of -days." - -"By the Holy Iron it's the very thing!" he interrupted, slapping his -leg. - -It takes a time to tell all this in writing, but in actual fact our -whole conversation together in the cabin and on the deck occupied less -than five minutes. We were both of us too well aware of the value of -time to have had it otherwise and waste moments in useless conversation. - -"What is to be done is this," I suggested, casting a rapid glance along -the decks and upwards to the spars. "I will rig up a sail of some sort -here and you will hasten over again in the small-boat to the hoy and -give Father Hamilton the option of coming with us. He may or he may not -care to run the risks involved in the exploit, but at least we owe him -the offer." - -"But when I'm across at the hoy there, here's you with this dovering -body and Captain Thurot. Another knock might settle the one, but you -would scarcely care to have knocks going in the case of an old friend -like Tony Thurot, who's only doing his duty in keeping you here with -such a secret in your charge." - -"I have thought of that, too," I replied quickly, "and I will hazard -Thurot." - -Kilbride lowered himself into the small-boat, pushed off from the side -of the frigate, and in silence half-drifted in the direction of the -Dutch vessel. My plans were as clear in my head as if they had been -printed on paper. First of all I took such provender as I could get from -my cabin and placed it along with a breaker of water and a lamp in the -cutter. Then I climbed the shrouds of the frigate, and cut away a small -sail that I guessed would serve my purpose, letting it fall into the -cutter. I made a shift at sheets and halyards and found that with a -little contrivance I could spread enough canvas to take the cutter -in that weather at a fair speed before the wind that had a blessed -disposition towards the coast of England. I worked so fast it was a -miracle, dreading at every rustle of the stolen sail--at every creak of -the cutter on the fenders, that either the captain or his unconscious -seaman would awake. - -My work was scarcely done when the small-boat came off again from the -hoy, and as she drew cautiously near I saw that MacKellar had with him -the bulky figure of the priest. He climbed ponderously, at my signal, -into the cutter, and MacKellar joined me for a moment on the deck of the -frigate. - -"He goes with us then?" I asked, indicating the priest. - -"To the Indies if need be," said Kilbride. "But the truth is that this -accident is a perfect God-send to him, for England's the one place -below the firmament he would choose for a refuge at this moment. Is all -ready?" - -"If my sail-making's to be relied on she's in the best of trim," I -answered. - -"And--what do ye call it?--all found?" - -"A water breaker, a bottle of brandy, a bag of bread--" - -"Enough for a foray of fifty men!" he said heartily. "Give me meal and -water in the heel of my shoe and I would count it very good vivers for a -fortnight." - -He went into the cutter; I released the ropes that bound her to the -frigate and followed him. - -"_Mon Dieu_ dear lad, 'tis a world of most fantastic happenings," was -all the poor old priest said, shivering in the cold night air. - -We had to use the oars of the frigate's small-boat for a stroke or two -so as to get the cutter round before the wind; she drifted quickly -from the large ship's side almost like a living thing with a crave -for freedom at last realised; up speedily ran her sail, unhandsome yet -sufficient, the friendly air filled out the rustling folds and drove her -through the night into the open sea. - -There is something in a moonlit night at sea that must touch in the most -cloddish heart a spring of fancy. It is friendlier than the dawn that at -its most glorious carries a hint of sorrow, or than the bravest sunset -that reminds us life is a brief day at the best of it, and the one -thing sempiternal yet will be the darkness. We sat in the well of the -cutter--three odd adventurers, myself the most silent because I had the -double share of dubiety about the enterprise, for who could tell how -soon the doomster's hand would be on me once my feet were again on -British soil? Yet now when I think of it--of the moonlit sea, the -swelling sail above us, the wake behind that shone with fire--I must -count it one of the happiest experiences of my life. - -The priest looked back at the low land of France receding behind us, -with its scattered lights on the harbour and the shore, mere subjects -to the queenly moon. "There goes poor Father Hamilton," said he -whimsically, "happy schoolboy, foolish lover in Louvain that had never -but moonlit eves, parish priest of Dixmunde working two gardens, human -and divine, understanding best the human where his bees roved, but -loving all men good and ill. There goes the spoiled page, the botched -effort, and here's a fat old man at the start of a new life, and never -to see his darling France again. Ah! the good mother; _Dieu te benisse!_" - - - - -CHAPTER XL - -MY INTERVIEW WITH PITT - -Of our voyage across the Channel there need be no more said than that it -was dull to the very verge of monotony, for the wind, though favourable, -was often in a faint where our poor sail shook idly at the mast. Two -days later we were in London, and stopped at the Queen's Head above -Craig's Court in Charing Cross. - -And now I had to make the speediest possible arrangement for a meeting -with those who could make the most immediate and profitable use of the -tidings I was in a position to lay before them, by no means an easy -matter to decide upon for a person who had as little knowledge of London -as he had of the Cities of the Plain. - -MacKellar--ever the impetuous Gael--was for nothing less than a personal -approach to his Majesty. - -"The man that is on the top of the hill will always be seeing furthest," -he said. "I have come in contact with the best in Europe on that under -standing, but it calls for a kind of Hielan' tact that--that--" - -"That you cannot credit to a poor Lowlander like myself," said I, amused -at his vanity. - -"Oh, I'm meaning no offence, just no offence at all," he responded -quickly, and flushing at his _faux pas_. "You have as much talent of -the kind as the best of us I'm not denying, and I have just the one -advantage, that I was brought up in a language that has delicacies of -address beyond the expression of the English, or the French that is, in -some measure, like it." - -"Well," said I, "the spirit of it is obviously not to be translated into -English, judging from the way you go on crying up your countrymen at the -expense of my own." - -"That is true enough," he conceded, "and a very just observe; but no -matter, what I would be at is that your news is worth too much to be -wasted on any poor lackey hanging about his Majesty's back door, who -might either sell it or you on his own behoof, or otherwise make a mull -of the matter with the very best intentions. If you would take my way of -it, there would be but Geordie himself for you." - -"What have you to say to that?" I asked the priest, whose knowledge of -the world struck me as in most respects more trustworthy than that of -this impetuous Highland chirurgeon. - -"A plague of your kings! say I; sure I know nothing about them, for -my luck has rubbed me against the gabardine and none of your ermined -cloaks. There must be others who know his Majesty's affairs better than -his Majesty himself, otherwise what advantage were there in being a -king?" - -In fine his decision was for one of the Ministers, and at last the -Secretary of State was decided on. - -How I came to meet with Mr. Pitt need not here be recorded; 'twas indeed -more a matter of good luck than of good guidance, and had there been no -Scots House of Argyll perhaps I had never got rid of my weighty secret -after all. I had expected to meet a person magnificent in robes of -state; instead of which 'twas a man in a blue coat with yellow metal -buttons, full round bob wig, a large hat, and no sword-bag nor ruffles -that met me--more like a country coachman or a waggoner than a personage -of importance. - -He scanned over again the letter that had introduced me and received me -cordially enough. In a few words I indicated that I was newly come from -France, whence I had escaped in a smuggler's boat, and that I had news -of the first importance which I counted it my duty to my country to -convey to him with all possible expedition. - -At that his face changed and he showed singularly little eagerness to -hear any more. - -"There will be--there will be the--the usual bargain, I presume, Mr. -Greig?" he said, half-smiling. "What are the conditions on which I am to -have this vastly important intelligence?" - -"I never dreamt of making any, sir," I answered, promptly, with some -natural chagrin, and yet mixed with a little confusion that I should in -truth be expecting something in the long run for my story. - -"Pardon my stupid pleasantry, Mr. Greig," he said, reddening slightly. -"I have been so long one of his Majesty's Ministers, and of late have -seen so many urgent couriers from France with prime news to be bargained -for, that I have grown something of a cynic. You are the first that has -come with a secret not for sale. Believe me, your story will have all -the more attention because it is offered disinterestedly." - -In twenty minutes I had put him into possession of all I knew of the -plans for invasion. He walked up and down the room, with his hands -behind his back, intently listening, now and then uttering an -exclamation incredulous or astonished. - -"You are sure of all this?" he asked at last sharply, looking in my face -with embarrassing scrutiny. - -"As sure as any mortal man may be with the gift of all his senses," I -replied firmly. "At this moment Thurot's vessel is, I doubt not, taking -in her stores; the embarkation of troops is being practised daily, -troops are assembled all along the coast from Brest to Vannes, and--" - -"Oh! on these points we are, naturally, not wholly dark," said the -Minister. "We have known for a year of this somewhat theatrical display -on the part of the French, but the lines of the threatened invasion -are not such as your remarkable narrative suggests. You have been good -enough to honour me with your confidence, Mr. Greig; let me reciprocate -by telling you that we have our--our good friends in France, and that -for six months back I have been in possession of the Chevalier D'Arcy's -instructions to Dumont to reconnoitre the English coast, and of Dumont's -report, with the chart of the harbours and towns where he proposed that -the descent should be made." He smiled somewhat grimly. "The gentleman -who gave us the information," he went on, "stipulated for twenty -thousand pounds and a pension of two thousand a year as the just reward -for his loving service to his country in her hour of peril. He was -not to get his twenty thousand, I need scarcely say, but he was to get -something in the event of his intelligence proving to be accurate, and -if it were for no more than to get the better of such a dubious patriot -I should wish his tale wholly disproved, though we have hitherto -acted on the assumption that it might be trustworthy. There cannot be -alternative plans of invasion; our informant--another Scotsman, I may -say--is either lying or has merely the plan of a feint." - -"You are most kind, sir," said I. - -"Oh," he said, "I take your story first, and as probably the most -correct, simply because it comes from one that loves his country -and makes no bagman's bargains for the sale of secrets vital to her -existence." - -"I am much honoured, sir," said I, with a bow. - -And then he stopped his walk abruptly and faced me again. - -"You have told me, Mr. Greig," he went on, "that Conflans is to descend -in a week or two on the coast of Scotland, and that Thurot is to create -a diversion elsewhere with the aid of the Swedes, I have, from the most -delicate considerations, refrained from asking you how you know all -this?" - -"I heard it from the lips of Thurot himself." - -"Thurot! impossible!" he murmured. - -"Of Thurot himself, sir." - -"You must be much in that pirate's confidence," said Mr. Pitt, for the -first time with suspicion. - -"Not to that extent that he would tell me of his plans for invading -my country," I answered, "and I learned these things by the merest -accident. I overheard him speak last Sunday in Dunkerque with the Young -Pretender--" - -"The Pretender!" cried the Minister, shrugging his shoulders, and -looking at me with more suspicion than ever. "You apparently move in the -most select and interesting society, Mr. Greig?" - -"In this case, sir, it was none of my choosing," I replied, and went on -briefly to explain how I had got into Thurot's chamber unknown to him, -and unwittingly overhead the Prince and him discuss the plan. - -"Very good, very good, and still--you will pardon me--I cannot see how -so devout a patriot as Mr. Greig should be in the intimacy of men like -Thurot?" - -"A most natural remark under the circumstances," I replied. "Thurot -saved my life from a sinking British vessel, and it is no more than his -due to say he proved a very good friend to me many a time since. But I -was to know nothing of his plans of invasion, for he knew very well I -had no sympathy with them nor with Charles Edward, and, as I have told -you, he made me his prisoner on his ship so that I might not betray what -I had overheard." - -The Minister made hurried notes of what I had told him, and concluded -the interview by asking where I could be communicated with during the -next few days. - -I gave him my direction at the Queen's Head, but added that I had it in -my mind to go shortly to Edinburgh, where my address would be best known -to the Lord Advocate. - -"The Lord Advocate!" said Mr. Pitt, raising his eyebrows. - -"I may as well make a clean breast of it, sir," I proceeded hurriedly, -"and say that I left Scotland under circumstances peculiarly -distressing. Thurot saved me from a ship called the _Seven Sisters_, -that had been scuttled and abandoned with only myself and a seaman on -board of her in mid-channel, by a man named Daniel Risk." - -"Bless me!" cried Mr. Pitt, "the scoundrel Risk was tried in Edinburgh a -month or two ago on several charges, including the one you mention, and -he has either been hanged, or is waiting to be hanged at this moment, in -the jail at Edinburgh." - -"I was nominally purser on the _Seven Sisters_, but in actual fact I was -fleeing from justice." - -The Minister hemmed, and fumbled with his papers. - -"It was owing to a duelling affair, in which I had the misfortune -to--to--kill my opponent. I desire, sir, above all, to be thoroughly -honest, and I am bound to tell you it was my first intention to make the -conveyance of this plan of Thurot's a lever to secure my pardon for the -crime of manslaughter which lies at my charge. I would wish now that my -loyalty to my country was really disinterested, and I have, in the last -half-hour, made up my mind to surrender myself to the law of Scotland." - -"That is for yourself to decide on," said the Minister more gravely, -"but I should advise the postponement of your departure to Edinburgh -until you hear further from me. I shall expect to find you at the inn at -Charing Cross during the next week; thereafter----" - -He paused for a moment. "Well--thereafter we shall see," he added. - -After a few more words of the kindest nature the Minister shook -hands with the confessed manslayer (it flashed on me as a curious -circumstance), and I went back to join the priest and my fellow -countryman. - -They were waiting full of impatience. - -"Hast the King's pardon in thy pocket, friend Scotland?" cried Father -Hamilton; then his face sank in sympathy with the sobriety of my own -that was due to my determination on a surrender to justice once my -business with the Government was over. - -"I have no more in my pocket than I went out with in the morning," said -I. "But my object, so far, has been served. Mr. Pitt knows my story and -is like to take such steps as maybe needful. As for my own affair I have -mentioned it, but it has gone no further than that." - -"You're not telling me you did not make a bargain of it before saying -a word about the bit plan?" cried MacKellar in surprise, and could -scarcely find words strong enough to condemn me for what he described as -my stupidity. - -"Many a man will sow the seed that will never eat the syboe," was his -comment; "and was I not right yonder when I said yon about the tact? If -it had been me now I would have gone very canny to the King himself and -said: 'Your Majesty, I'm a man that has made a slip in a little affair -as between gentlemen, and had to put off abroad until the thing blew -by. I can save the lives of many thousand Englishmen, and perhaps the -country itself, by intelligence that came to my knowledge when I was -abroad; if I prove it, will your Majesty pardon the thing that lies at -my charge?'" - -"And would have his Majesty's signature to the promise as 'twere a deed -of sale!" laughed the priest convulsively. "La! la! la! Paul, here's our -Celtic Solon with tact--the tact of the foot-pad. Stand and deliver! -My pardon, sire, or your life! _Mon Dieu!_ there runs much of the old -original cateran in thy methods of diplomacy, good Master MacKellar. Too -much for royal courts, I reckon." MacKellar pshawed impatiently. "I'm -asking you what is the Secretary's name, Mr. Greig?" said he. "Fox or -Pitt it is all the same--the one is sly and the other is deep, and it is -the natures of their names. I'll warrant Mr. Pitt has forgotten already -the name of the man who gave him the secret, and the wisest thing Paul -Greig could do now would be to go into hiding as fast as he can." - -But I expressed my determination to wait in the Queen's Head a week -longer, as I had promised, and thereafter (if nothing happened to -prevent it) to submit myself at Edinburgh. Though I tried to make as -little of that as possible to myself, and indeed would make myself -believe I was going to act with a rare bravery, I must confess now that -my determination was strengthened greatly by the reflection that -my service to the country would perhaps annul or greatly modify my -sentence. - - - - -CHAPTER XLI - -TREATS OF FATHER HAMILTON'S DEATH - -It was a gay place, London, in the days I write of, however it may -be now, though Father Hamilton was prone occasionally to compare -it unfavourably with the Paris of his fancy, the which he held a -sample-piece of paradise. The fogs and rains depressed him; he had an -eye altogether unfriendly for the signs of striving commerce in the -streets and the greedy haste of clerks and merchants into whose days of -unremitting industry so few joys (as he fancied) seemed to enter. - -MacKellar soon found company in it among silken bucks that held noisy -sederunts in the evenings at a place called White's and another called -(if my memory does not fail me) the Cocoa Nut Tree. 'Twas marvellous the -number of old friends and fellow countrymen that, by his own account, -he found there. And what open hands they had! But for him that was -privileged, for old acquaintance sake, to borrow from them, we had found -our week or two in London singularly hungry because (to tell the truth -of it) our money was come very nearly to an end. But MacKellar, who -had foraged so well in Silesia, was equally good at it in the city of -London. From these night escapades he seldom failed to return richer -than he went, and it was he who paid the piper with so much of an air of -thinking it a privilege, that we had not the heart, even if we had the -inclination, to protest. - -If I had known then, as I know now, or at least suspect, that the money -that fed and boarded us was won through his skill at dice and cards, I -daresay I had shifted sooner from London than I did at the last. - -Day after day passed, and no word from Mr. Pitt. I dared scarcely leave -my inn for an hour's airing lest I should be asked for in my absence. -There was, for a while, a hope that though I had refused to make any -bargain about the pardon, something--I could not so much as guess -what--might happen to avert the scandal of a trial at Edinburgh, and the -disgrace that same might bring upon my family. But day after day passed, -as I have said, and there came no hint of how matters stood. - -And then there came a day when I was to consider it mattered very little -whether I heard from Pitt or not; when even my country was forgotten and -I was to suffer a loss whose bitterness abides with me yet. It was the -death of Father Hamilton, whom I had grown to like exceedingly. Birds -have built and sung for many generations since then; children play in -the garden still; there is essence at the table, there is sparkle in -the wine, and he will never enjoy them any more. Fortune has come to me -since then, so that I might have the wherewithal, if I had the wish, -to take the road again with him in honesty, and see it even better than -when Sin paid the bill for us, but it cannot be with him. - -It was a December day of the whitest, the city smothered in snow, its -tumult hushed. I had been tempted to wander in the forenoon a good -way from our lodging. Coming home in the afternoon I met Kilbride, -distracted, setting out to seek for me. He had a face like the clay, and -his hands, that grasped my lapels as if I meant to fly from him, were -trembling. - -"Oh, Paul," said he. "Here's the worst of all," and I declare his cheeks -were wet with tears. - -"What is it?" I cried in great alarm. - -"The priest, the priest," said he. "He's lying yonder at the ebb, -and I'm no more use to him than if I were a bairn. I've seen the -death-thraws a thousand times, but never to vex me just like this -before. He could make two or three of us in bulk, and yet his heart -was like a wean's, and there he's crying on you even-on till I was near -demented and must run about the streets to seek for you." - -"But still you give me no clue!" I cried, hurrying home with him. - -He gave me the story by the way. It seemed his reverence had had a -notion to see Eastcheap, round which the writer Shakespeare had thrown -a glamour for him. He had gone there shortly after I had gone out in the -forenoon, and after a space of walking about it had found himself in a -mean street where a blackguard was beating a child. 'Twas the man's own -child, doubtless, and so he had, I make no doubt, the law of it on his -own side, but the drunken wretch outdid all reasonable chastisement, and -thrashed her till the blood flowed. - -Up ran the priest and took her in his arms, shielding her from the blows -of the father's cudgel with his arm. The child nuzzled to his breast, -shrieking, and the father tried to pull her away. Between them she fell; -the priest stood over her, keeping back the beast that threatened. The -man struck at him with his stick; Father Hamilton wrenched it from him, -threw it down that he might have no unfair advantage, and flung himself -upon the wretch. He could have crushed him into jelly, but the man -was armed, and suddenly drew a knife. He thrust suddenly between the -priest's shoulders, released himself from the tottering body, -and disappeared with his child apparently beyond all chance of -identification or discovery. - -Father Hamilton was carried home upon a litter. - -"O God! Kilbride, and must he die?" I cried in horror. - -"He will travel in less than an hour," said the Highlander, vastly -moved. "And since he came here his whole cry has been for you and Father -Joyce." - -We went into the room that seemed unnaturally white and sunny. He lay -upon the bed-clothes. The bed was drawn towards the window, through -which the domes and towers and roofs of London could be seen, with their -accustomed greyness gone below the curtain of the snow. A blotch of -blood was on his shirt-front as he lay upon his side. I thought at first -it was his own life oozing, but learned a little later that the stricken -child had had her face there. - -"Paul! Paul!" he said, "I thought thou wouldst blame me for deserting -thee again, and this time without so much as a letter of farewell." - -What could I do but take his hand, and fall upon my knees beside his -bed? He had blue eyes that never aged nor grossened--the eyes of a boy, -clear, clean, and brave, and round about them wrinkles played in a sad, -sweet smile. - -"What, Paul!" he said, "all this for behemoth! for the old man of the -sea that has stuck on thy shoulders for a twelvemonth, and spurred thee -to infinite follies and perils! I am no more worth a tear of thine than -is the ivied ash that falls untimely and decayed, eaten out of essence -by the sins he sheltered. And the poor child, Paul!--the poor child -with her arms round my neck, her tears brine--sure I have them on my -lips--the true _viaticum!_ The brute! the brute! Ah no! ah no! poor -sinner, we do not know." - -"Oh, father!" I cried, "and must we never go into the woods and towns -any more?" - -He smiled again and stroked my hair. - -"Not in these fields, boy," said he, "but perhaps in more spacious, less -perplexed. Be good, be simple, be kind! Tis all I know." - -We heard the steps of Father Joyce upon the stairs. - -"All I know!" repeated the priest. "Fifty years to learn it, and I might -have found it in my mother's lap. _Chere ange_--the little mother--'twas -a good world! And Fanchon that is dead below the snow in Louvain--oh, -the sweet world! And the sunny gardens of bees and children--" - -His eyes were dull. A pallor was on his countenance. He breathed with -difficulty. Kilbride, who stood by, silent, put a finger on his pulse. -At that he opened his eyes again, once more smiling, and Father Joyce -was at the door. - -"Kiss me, Paul," said the dying man, "I hear them singing prime." - -When Father Joyce was gone I came into the room again where the priest -lay smiling still, great in figure, in the simplicity and sweetness of -his countenance like a child. - -Kilbride and I stood silent for a little by the bed, and the Highlander -was the first to speak. "I have seen worse," said he, "than Father -Hamilton." - -It may seem a grudging testimony, but not to me that heard it. - -On the day after the priest's funeral Kilbride came to me with that news -which sent me north. He had the week's gazette in his hand, "Have you -heard the latest?" he cried. "It is just what I expected," he went on. -"They have made use of your information and set you aside. Here's the -tidings of Conflans' defeat. Hawke came down on him off Brest, drove -him back from the point of Quiberon to the coast near the mouth of -the Vilaine, sank four ships, captured two, and routed the enemy. The -invasion is at an end." - -"It is gallant news!" I cried, warm with satisfaction. - -"Maybe," said he indifferently, "but the main thing is that Paul Greig, -who put the Government in the way of taking proper steps, is here in -cheap lodgings with a charge on his head and no better than ever he was. -Indeed, perhaps he's worse off than ever he was." - -"How is that?" - -"Well, they ken where you are, for one thing, and you put yourself in -their power. I am one that has small faith in Governments. What will -hinder them to clap you in jail and save another reward like the first -one Pitt told you about? I would never put it past a Sassenach of the -name." - -Then I told him it had been in my mind ever since I had seen the -Minister to go to Edinburgh and give myself up to the authorities. - -"Are ye daft?" he cried, astonished. - -I could only shrug my shoulders at that. - -"Perhaps you fancy this business of the invasion will help you to get -your neck out of the loop? I would not lippen on a Government for ten -minutes. You have saved the country--that's the long and the short of -it; now you must just be saving your own hide. There's nothing for us -but the Continent again, and whether you're in the key for that or not, -here's a fellow will sleep uneasy till he has Europe under his head." - -Even at the cost of parting with Kilbride I determined to carry out -my intention of going to Edinburgh. With the priest gone, no prospect -of Mr. Pitt taking the first step, and Kilbride in the humour for a -retreat, I decided that the sooner I brought matters to a head the -better. - -There was a mail coach that went north weekly. It took a considerable -deal of money and a fortnight of time to make the journey between the -two capitals, but MacKellar, free-handed to the last, lent me the -money (which I sent him six months later to Holland), and I set out one -Saturday from the "Bull and Whistle" in a genteel two-end spring machine -that made a brisk passage--the weather considered--as far as York on our -way into Scotland. - -I left on a night of jubilation for the close of the war and the -overthrow of Conflans. Bonfires blazed on the river-side and the -eminences round the city; candles were in every window, the people -were huzzaing in the streets where I left behind me only the one kent -face--that of MacKellar of Kilbride who came to the coach to see the -last of me. And everywhere was the snow--deep, silent, apparently -enduring. - - - - -CHAPTER XLII - -I DEPART IN THE MIDST OF ILLUMINATION AND COME TO A JAIL, BAD NEWS, AND -AN OLD ENEMY - -We carried this elation all through England with us. Whatever town we -stopped at flags were flying, and the oldest resident must be tipsy on -the green for the glory of the British Isles. The seven passengers who -occupied the coach with me found in these rejoicings, and in the great -event which gave rise to them, subjects of unending discourse as we -dragged through the country in the wake of steaming horses. There was -with us a maker of perukes that had found trade dull in Town (as they -call it), and planned to start business in York; a widow woman who -had buried her second husband and was returning to her parents in -Northumberland with a sprightliness that told she was ready to try a -third if he offered; and a squire (as they call a laird) of Morpeth. - -But for the common interest in the rejoicings it might have been a week -before the company thawed to each other enough to start a conversation. -The first mile of the journey, however, found us in the briskest clebate -on Hawke and his doings. I say us, but in truth my own share in the -conversation was very small as I had more serious reflections. - -The perruquier, as was natural to his trade, knew everything and itched -to prove it. - -"I have it on the very best authority," he would say, "indeed"--with -a whisper for all the passengers as if he feared the toiling horses -outside might hear him--"indeed between ourselves I do not mind telling -that it was from Sir Patrick Dall's man--that the French would have been -on top of us had not one of themselves sold the plot for a hatful of -guineas." - -"That is not what I heard at all," broke in the squire. "I fancy you are -mistaken, sir. The truth, as I have every reason to believe, is that one -of the spies of the Government--a Scotsman, by all accounts--discovered -Conflans' plans, and came over to London with them. A good business too, -egad! otherwise we'd soon have nothing to eat at Morpeth George Inn on -market days but frogs, and would find the parley-voos overrunning the -country by next Lent with their masses and mistresses, and so on. A good -business for merry old England that this spy had his English ears open." - -"It may be you are right, sir," conceded the perruquier deferentially. -"Now that I remember, Sir Patrick's gentleman said something of the same -kind, and that it was one of them Scotsmen brought the news. Like enough -the fellow found it worth his while. It will be a pretty penny in his -pocket, I'll wager. He'll be able to give up spying and start an inn." - -I have little doubt the ideal nature of retirement to an inn came to -the mind of the peruke maker from the fact that at the moment we were -drawing up before "The Crown" at Bawtry. Reek rose in clouds from the -horses, as could be seen from the light of the doors that showed the -narrow street knee-deep in snow; a pleasant smell of cooking supper and -warm cordials came out to us, welcome enough it may be guessed after our -long day's stage. The widow clung just a trifle too long on my arm as -I gallantly helped her out of the coach; perhaps she thought my silence -and my abstracted gaze at her for the last hour or two betrayed a tender -interest, but I was thinking how close the squire and the wig-maker had -come upon the truth, and yet made one mistake in that part of their tale -that most closely affected their silent fellow passenger. - -The sea-fight and the war lasted us for a topic all through England, but -when we had got into Scotland on the seventh day after my departure from -London, the hostlers at the various change-houses yoked fresh horses to -the tune of "Daniel Risk." - -We travelled in the most tempestuous weather. Snow fell incessantly, -and was cast in drifts along the road; sometimes it looked as if we were -bound for days, but we carried the mails, and with gigantic toil the -driver pushed us through. - -The nearer we got to Edinburgh the more we learned of the notorious -Daniel Risk, whom no one knew better than myself. The charge of losing -his ship wilfully was, it appeared, among the oldest and least heinous -of his crimes. Smuggling had engaged his talent since then, and he had -murdered a cabin-boy under the most revolting circumstances. He had -almost escaped the charge of scuttling the _Seven Sisters_, for it was -not till he had been in the dock for the murder that evidence of that -transaction came from the seaman Horn, who had been wrecked twice, it -appeared, and far in other parts of the world between the time he was -abandoned in the scuttled ship and returned to his native land, to tell -how the ruffian had left two innocent men to perish. - -Even in these days of wild happenings the fame of Risk exceeded that of -every malefactor that season, and when we got to Edinburgh the street -singers were chanting doleful ballads about him. - -I would have given the wretch no thought, or very little, for my own -affairs were heavy enough, had not the very day I landed in Edinburgh -seen a broad-sheet published with "The Last Words and Warning" of Risk. -The last words were in an extraordinarily devout spirit; the homily -breathed what seemed a real repentance for a very black life. It would -have moved me less if I could have learned then, as I did later, that -the whole thing was the invention of some drunken lawyer's clerk in -the Canongate, who had probably devised scores of such fictions for the -entertainment of the world that likes to read of scaffold repentances -and of wicked lives. The condition of the wretch touched me, and I -made up my mind to see the condemned man who, by the accounts of the -journals, was being visited daily by folks interested in his forlorn -case. - -With some manoeuvring I got outside the bars of his cell. - -There was little change in him. The same wild aspect was there though -he pretended a humility. The skellie eye still roved with little of -the love of God or man in it; his iron-grey hair hung tawted about his -temples. Only his face was changed and had the jail-white of the cells, -for he had been nearly two months in confinement. When I entered he did -not know me; indeed, he scarce looked the road I was on at first, but -applied himself zealously to the study of a book wherein he pretended to -be rapturously engrossed. - -The fact that the Bible (for so it was) happened to be upside down in -his hands somewhat staggered my faith in the repentance of Daniel Risk, -who, I remembered, had never numbered reading among his arts. - -I addressed him as Captain. - -"I am no Captain," said he in a whine, "but plain Dan Risk, the blackest -sinner under the cope and canopy of heaven." And he applied himself to -his volume as before. - -"Do you know me?" I asked, and he must have found the voice familiar, -for he rose from his stool, approached the bars of his cage, and -examined me. "Andy Greigs nephew!" he cried. "It's you; I hope you're a -guid man?" - -"I might be the best of men--and that's a dead one--so far as you are -concerned," I replied, stung a little by the impertinence of him. - -"The hand of Providence saved me that last item in my bloody list o' -crimes," said he, with a singular mixture of the whine for his sins and -of pride in their number. "Your life was spared, I mak' nae doubt, that -ye micht repent o' your past, and I'm sorry to see ye in sic fallals o' -dress, betokenin' a licht mind and a surrender to the vanities." - -My dress was scantily different from what it had been on the _Seven -Sisters_, except for some lace, my tied hair, and a sword. - -"Indeed, and I am in anything but a light frame of mind, Captain Risk," -I said. "There are reasons for that, apart from seeing you in this -condition which I honestly deplore in spite of all the wrong you did -me." - -"I thank God that has been forgiven me," he said, with a hypocritical -cock of his hale eye. "I was lost in sin, a child o' the deevil, but noo -I am made clean," and much more of the same sort that it is unnecessary -here to repeat. - -"You can count on my forgiveness, so far as that goes," I said, -disgusted with his manner. - -"I'm greatly obleeged," said he, "but man's forgiveness doesna coont sae -muckle as a preen, and I would ask ye to see hoo it stands wi' yersel', -Daniel Risk has made his peace wi' his Maker, but what way is it wi' the -nephew o' Andrew Greig?" - -"It ill becomes a man in a condemned cell to be preacher to those -outside of it," I told him in some exasperation at his presumption. - -He threw up his hands and glowered at me with his gleed eye looking -seven ways for sixpence as the saying goes. - -"Dinna craw ower crouse, young man," he said. "Whit brings ye here I -canna guess, but I ken that you that's there should be in here where I -am, for there's blood on your hands." - -He had me there! Oh, yes, he had me there! Every vein in my body told -me so. But I was not in the humour to make an admission of that kind to -this creature. - -"I have no conceit of myself in any respect whatever, Daniel Risk," I -said slowly. "I came here from France but yesterday after experiences -there that paid pretty well for my boy's crime, for I have heard from -neither kith nor kin since you cozened me on the boards of the _Seven -Sisters_." - -He put his hands upon the bars and looked at me. He wore a prison garb -of the most horrible colour, and there were round him the foul stenches -of the cell. - -"Ay!" said he. "New back! And they havena nabbed ye yet! Weel, -they'll no' be lang, maybe, o' doin' that, for I'll warrant ye've been -advertised plenty aboot the country; ony man that has read a gazette or -clattered in a public-hoose kens your description and the blackness o' -the deed you're chairged wi'. All I did was to sink a bit ship that was -rotten onyway, mak' free trade wi' a few ankers o' brandy that wad hae -been drunk by the best i' the land includin' the very lords that tried -me, and accidentally kill a lad that sair needed a beltin' to gar him -dae his honest wark. But you shot a man deliberate and his blood is -crying frae the grund. If ye hurry ye'll maybe dance on naethin' sooner -nor mysel'." - -There was so much impotent venom in what he said that I lost my anger -with the wretch drawing near his end, and looked on him with pity. It -seemed to annoy him more than if I had reviled him. - -"I'm a white soul." says he, clasping his hands--the most arrant -blasphemy of a gesture from one whose deeds were desperately wicked! -"I'm a white soul, praise God! and value not your opinions a docken -leaf. Ye micht hae come here to this melancholy place to slip a bit -guinea into my hand for some few extra comforts, instead o' which it's -jist to anger me." - -He glued his cheek against the bars and stared at me from head to foot, -catching at the last a glance of my fateful shoes. He pointed at them -with a rigid finger. - -[Illustration: 407] - -"Man! man!" he cried, "there's the sign and token o' the lot o' ye--the -bloody shoon. They may weel be red for him and you that wore them. Red -shoon! red shoon!" He stopped suddenly. "After a'," said he, "I bear -ye nae ill-will, though I hae but to pass the word to the warder on the -ither side o' the rails. And oh! abin a' repent----" He was off again -into one of his blasphemies, for at my elbow now was an old lady who was -doubtless come to confirm the conversion of Daniel Risk. I turned to go. - -He cast his unaffected eye piously heavenward, and coolly offered up a -brief prayer for "this erring young brother determined on the ways of -vice and folly." - -It may be scarce credible that I went forth from the condemned cell with -the most shaken mind I had had since the day I fled from the moor of -Mearns. The streets were thronged with citizens; the castle ramparts -rose up white and fine, the bastions touched by sunset fires, a window -blazing like a star. Above the muffled valley, clear, silvery, proud, -rang a trumpet on the walls, reminding me of many a morning rouse in far -Silesia. Was I not better there? Why should I be the sentimental fool -and run my head into a noose? Risk, whom I had gone to see in pity, paid -me with a vengeance! He had put into the blunt language of the world all -the horror I had never heard in words before, though it had often been -in my mind. I saw myself for the first time the hunted outlaw, captured -at last. "You that's out there should be in where I am!" It was true! -But to sit for weeks in that foul hole within the iron rail, waiting on -doom, reflecting on my folks disgraced--I could not bear it! - -Risk cured me of my intention to hazard all on the flimsy chance of -a Government's gratitude, and I made up my mind to seek safety and -forgetfulness again in flight to another country. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII - -BACK TO THE MOORLAND - -I had seen yon remnant of a man in the Tolbooth cell, and an immediate -death upon the gallows seemed less dreadful than the degradation and the -doubt he must suffer waiting weary months behind bars. But gallows or -cell was become impossible for the new poltroon of Dan Risk's making to -contemplate with any equanimity, and I made up my mind that America was -a country which would benefit greatly by my presence, if I could get a -passage there by working for it. - -Perhaps I would not have made so prompt a decision upon America had -not America implied a Clyde ship, and the Clyde as naturally implied -a flying visit to my home in Mearns. Since ever I had set foot on -Scotland, and saw Scots reek rise from Scots lums, and blue bonnets on -Scots heads, and heard the twang of the true North and kindly from the -people about me, I had been wondering about my folk. It was plain they -had never got the letter I had sent by Horn, or got it only recently, -for he himself had only late got home. - -To see the house among the trees, then, to get a reassuring sight of its -smoke and learn about my parents, was actually of more importance in my -mind than my projected trip to America, though I did not care to confess -so much to myself. - -I went to Glasgow on the following day; the snow was on the roofs; the -students were noisily battling; the bells were cheerfully ringing as -on the day with whose description I open this history. I put up at the -"Saracen Head," and next morning engaged a horse to ride to Mearns. In -the night there had come a change in the weather; I splashed through -slush of melted snow, and soaked in a constant rain, but objected none -at all because it gave me an excuse to keep up the collar of my cloak, -and pull the brim of my hat well forward on my face and so minimise the -risk of identification. - -There is the lichened root of an ancient fallen saugh tree by the side -of Earn Water between Kirkillstane and Driepps that I cannot till this -day look on without a deep emotion. Walter's bairns have seen me sitting -there more than once, and unco solemn so that they have wondered, the -cause beyond their comprehension. It was there I drew up my horse to see -the house of Kirkillstane from the very spot where I had rambled with my -shabby stanzas, and felt the first throb of passion for a woman. - -The country was about me familiar in every dyke and tree and eminence; -where the water sobbed in the pool it had the accent it had in my -dreams; there was a broken branch of ash that trailed above the fall, -where I myself had dragged it once in climbing. The smell of moss and -rotten leafage in the dripping rain, the eerie aspect of the moorland in -the mist, the call of lapwings--all was as I had left it. There was not -the most infinite difference to suggest that I had seen another world, -and lived another life, and become another than the boy that wandered -here. - -I rode along the river to find the smoke rising from my father's -house--thank God! but what the better was the outlaw son for that? Dare -he darken again the door he had disgraced, and disturb anew the hearts -he had made sore? - -I pray my worst enemy may never feel torn by warring dictates of the -spirit as I was that dreary afternoon by the side of Earn; I pray he may -never know the pang with which I decided that old events were best let -lie, and that I must be content with that brief glimpse of home before -setting forth again upon the roads of dubious fortune. Fortune! Did I -not wear just now the very Shoes of Fortune? They had come I knew not -whence, from what magic part and artisan of heathendom I could not even -guess, to my father's brother; they had covered the unresting foot of -him; to me they had brought their curse of discontent, and so in wearing -them I seemed doomed to be the unhappy rover, too. - -The afternoon grew loud with wind as I sat my horse beside the -increasing water; I felt desolate beyond expression. - -"Well, there must be an end of it some way!" I said bitterly, and I -turned to go. - -The storm opposed me as I cantered over Whig-gitlaw, and won by Brooms, -and Bishops Offerance, and Kilree. Shepherds sheltered in the lee -of dykes, and women hurried out and shuttered windows. I saw sheep -hastening into the angles of the fields, and the wild white sea-gull -beating across the sky. The tempest thrashed on me as though it could -not have me go too soon from the country of my shame; I broke the horse -to gallop, and fields and dykes flew by like things demented. - -Then of a sudden the beast grew lame; I searched for a stone or a cast -shoe, but neither ailed him, and plainly the ride to town that night was -impossible. Where the beast failed was within half a mile of Newton, -and at all hazards I decided I must make for the inn there. I felt there -were risks of recognition, but I must run them. I led the horse by a -side path, and reached the inn no sooner than the darkness that fell -that night with unusual suddenness. Lights were in the house, and the -sound of rural merriment in the kitchen, where farm lads drank twopenny -ale, and sang. - -A man--he proved to be the innkeeper--came to my summons with a lantern -in his hand, and held it up to see what wayfarer was this in such a -night. He saw as little of me as my hat and cloak could reveal, and I -saw, what greatly relieved me, that he was not John Warnock, who had -tenanted the inn when I left the country, but a new tenant and one -unknown to me. He helped me to unsaddle the horse, discovered with me -that the lameness would probably succumb to a night in the stall, and -unburdened himself to the questions every unknown traveller in the shire -of Renfrew may expect. - -"You'll be frae Ayr, maybe, or Irvine?" - -No, I was from neither; I was from Glasgow. - -"Say ye sae, noo! Dod! it's nae nicht for travelling and nae wonder your -horse is lamed. Ye'll be for ower Fenwick way, noo, i' the mornin'?" Nor -was I for over Fenwick way in the morning. I was for Glasgow again. - -He looked from the corners of his eyes at this oddity who travelled -like a shuttle in such weather. I was drenched with rain, and my -spatter-dashes, with which I had thought to make up in some degree for -the inadequate foot-wear of red shoes on horseback, were foul with clay. -He presumed I was for supper? - -"No," I answered; "I'm more in the humour for bed, and I will be obliged -if you send to my room for my clothes in a little so that they may be -dry by the time I start in the morning, and I shall set out at seven if -by that time my horse is recovered." - -I drank a tankard of ale for the good of the house, as we say, during -a few minutes in the parlour, making my dripping clothes and a headache -the excuse for refusing the proffered hospitality of the kitchen where -the ploughboys sang, and then went to the little cam-ceiled room where a -hasty bed had been made for me. - -The world outside was full of warring winds and plashing rains, into -which the yokels went at last reluctantly, and when they were gone I -fell asleep, wakening once only for a moment when my wet clothes were -being taken from the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV - -WHEREIN THE SHOES OF FORTUNE BRING ME HOME - -I came down from my cam-ceiled room to a breakfast by candle-light in a -morning that was yet stormy. The landlord himself waited on me ('twas no -other than Ralph Craig that's now retired at the Whinnell), and he had -a score of apologies for his servant lass that had slept in too long, as -he clumsily set a table with his own hand, bringing in its equipment in -single pieces. - -There was a nervousness in his manner that escaped me for a little in -the candle-light, but I saw it finally with some wonder, rueing I had -agreed to have breakfast here at all, and had not taken my horse, now -recovered of his lameness, and pushed on out of a neighbourhood where I -had no right in common sense to be. - -If the meal was slow of coming it was hearty enough, though the host -embarrassed me too much with his attentions. He was clearly interested -in my personality. - -"It's not the first time ye've been in the 'Red Lion,'" said he with -an assurance that made me stare. - -"And what way should you be thinking that?" I asked, beginning to feel -more anxious about my position. - -"Oh, jist a surmise o' my ain," he answered. "Ye kent your way to the -stable in the dark, and then--and then there's whiles a twang o' the -Mearns in your speech." - -This was certainly coming too close! I hastened through my breakfast, -paid my lawing, and ordered out my horse. That took so long that I -surmised the man was wilfully detaining me. "This fellow has certainly -some project to my detriment," I told myself, and as speedily as I might -got into the saddle. Then he said what left no doubt: - -"They'll be gey glad to see ye at the Hazel Den, Mr. Greig." - -I felt a stound of anguish at the words that might in other -circumstances have been true but now were so remote from it. - -"You seem to have a very gleg eye in your head," I said, "and to have a -great interest in my own affairs." - -"No offence, Mr. Paul, no offence!" said he civilly, and indeed abashed. -"There's a lassie in the kitchen that was ance your mither's servant and -she kent your shoes." - -"I hope then you'll say nothing about my being here to any one--for the -sake of the servant's old mistress--that was my mother." - -"That _was_ your mither!" he repeated. "And what for no' yet? She'll be -prood to see ye hame." - -"Is it well with them up there?" I eagerly asked. - -I rode like fury home. The day was come before I reached the dykes of -Hazel Den. Smoke was rising from its chimneys; there was a homely -sound of lowing cattle, and a horse was saddling for my father who was -preparing to ride over to the inn at Newton to capture his errant son. -He stood before the door, a little more grey, a little more bent, a -little more shrunken than when I had seen him last. When I drew up -before him with my hat in my hand and leaped out of the saddle, he -scarcely grasped at first the fact that here was his son. - -"Father! Father!" I cried to him, and he put his arms about my -shoulders. - -"You're there, Paul!" said he at last. "Come your ways in; your dear -mother is making your breakfast." - -I could not have had it otherwise--'twas the welcome I would have -chosen! - -His eyes were brimming over; his voice was full of sobs and laughter as -he cried "Katrine! Katrine!" and my mother came to throw herself into my -arms. - -My Shoes of Fortune had done me their one good office; they had brought -me home. - -And now, my dear David, and Quentin, and Jean, my tale is ended, leaving -some folks who figured therein a space with their ultimate fortunes -unexplained. There is a tomb in Rome that marks the end of Prince -Charles Edward's wanderings and exploits, ambitions, follies, and -passions. Of him and of my countrywoman, Clementina Walkinshaw, you -will by-and-by read with understanding in your history-books. She -died unhappy and disgraced, yet I can never think of her but as -young, beautiful, kind, the fool of her affections, the plaything of -Circumstance. Clancarty's after career I never learned, but Thurot, -not long after I escaped from him in Dunkerque, plundered the town of -Carrickfergus, in Ireland, and was overtaken by three frigates when he -was on his way back to France. His ships were captured and he himself -was killed. You have seen Dr. MacKellar here on a visit from his native -Badenoch; his pardon from the Government was all I got, or all I wished -for, from Mr. Pitt. "And where is Isobel Fortune?" you will ask. You -know her best as your grandmother, my wife. My Shoes of Fortune, she -will sometimes say, laughing, brought me first and last Miss Fortune; -indeed they did! I love them for it, but I love you, too, and hope to -keep you from the Greig's temptation, so they are to the fore no longer. - -THE END - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Shoes of Fortune, by Neil Munro - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SHOES OF FORTUNE *** - -***** This file should be named 43732.txt or 43732.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/7/3/43732/ - -Produced by David Widger - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -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. Special rules, -set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to -copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to -protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project -Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you -charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you -do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the -rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose -such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and -research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do -practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is -subject to the trademark license, especially commercial -redistribution. - - - -*** START: FULL LICENSE *** - -THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE -PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK - -To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free -distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work -(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project -Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project -Gutenberg-tm License available with this file or online at - www.gutenberg.org/license. - - -Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic works - -1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to -and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property -(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all -the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy -all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. -If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the -terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or -entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. - -1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be -used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who -agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few -things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works -even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See -paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement -and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. See paragraph 1.E below. - -1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" -or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the -collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an -individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are -located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from -copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative -works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg -are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project -Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by -freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of -this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with -the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by -keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project -Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. - -1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern -what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in -a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check -the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement -before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or -creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project -Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning -the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United -States. - -1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: - -1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate -access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently -whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the -phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project -Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, -copied or distributed: - -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 Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - -1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived -from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is -posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied -and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees -or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work -with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the -work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 -through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the -Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or -1.E.9. - -1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted -with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution -must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional -terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked -to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the -permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. - -1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this -work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. - -1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this -electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without -prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with -active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project -Gutenberg-tm License. - -1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, -compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any -word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or -distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than -"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version -posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), -you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a -copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon -request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other -form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm -License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. - -1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, -performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works -unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. - -1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing -access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided -that - -- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from - the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method - you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is - owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he - has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the - Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments - must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you - prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax - returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and - sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the - address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to - the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." - -- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies - you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he - does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm - License. You must require such a user to return or - destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium - and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of - Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any - money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the - electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days - of receipt of the work. - -- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free - distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. - -1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm -electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set -forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from -both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael -Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the -Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. - -1.F. - -1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable -effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread -public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm -collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain -"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or -corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual -property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a -computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by -your equipment. - -1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right -of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project -Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all -liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal -fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT -LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE -PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE -TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE -LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR -INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH -DAMAGE. - -1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a -defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can -receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a -written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you -received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with -your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with -the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a -refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity -providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to -receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy -is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further -opportunities to fix the problem. - -1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth -in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER -WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO -WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. - -1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied -warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. -If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the -law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be -interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by -the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any -provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. - -1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the -trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone -providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance -with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, -promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, -harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, -that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do -or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm -work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any -Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. - - -Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm - -Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of -electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers -including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists -because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from -people in all walks of life. - -Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the -assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's -goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will -remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project -Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure -and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. -To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation -and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 -and the Foundation information page at www.gutenberg.org - - -Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive -Foundation - -The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit -501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the -state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal -Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification -number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent -permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. - -The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. -Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered -throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at 809 -North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887. Email -contact links and up to date contact information can be found at the -Foundation's web site and official page at www.gutenberg.org/contact - -For additional contact information: - Dr. Gregory B. Newby - Chief Executive and Director - gbnewby@pglaf.org - -Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg -Literary Archive Foundation - -Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide -spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of -increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be -freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest -array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations -($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt -status with the IRS. - -The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating -charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United -States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a -considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up -with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations -where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To -SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any -particular state visit www.gutenberg.org/donate - -While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we -have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition -against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who -approach us with offers to donate. - -International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make -any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from -outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. - -Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation -methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other -ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. -To donate, please visit: www.gutenberg.org/donate - - -Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic -works. - -Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm -concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared -with anyone. For forty years, he produced and distributed Project -Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. - -Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed -editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. -unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily -keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. - -Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: - - www.gutenberg.org - -This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. - |