RED CAP TALES [Illustration: Red Cap among the Wizard's Treasures. ] RED CAP TALES STOLEN FROM THE TREASURE CHEST OF THE WIZARD OF THE NORTH WHICH THEFT IS HUMBLY ACKNOWLEDGED BY S. R. CROCKETT =New York= THE MACMILLAN COMPANY LONDON: ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK 1904 COPYRIGHT, 1904, BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY. Set up and electrotyped. Published September, 1904. =Norwood Press=J. S. Cushing & Co. --Berwick & Smith Co. Norwood, Mass. , U. S. A. THE WHY! FOUR CHILDREN WOULD NOT READ SCOTT SO I told them these stories--and others--to lure them to the printedbook, much as carrots are dangled before the nose of the reluctantdonkey. They are four average intelligent children enough, but they holdseverely modern views upon storybooks. _Waverley_, in especial, theycould not away with. They found themselves stuck upon the verythreshold. Now, since the first telling of these Red Cap Tales, the Scott shelf inthe library has been taken by storm and escalade. It is permanentlygap-toothed all along the line. Also there are nightly skirmishes, evento the laying on of hands, as to who shall sleep with _Waverley_ underhis pillow. It struck me that there must be many oldsters in the world who, for thesake of their own youth, would like the various Sweethearts who nowinhabit their nurseries, to read Sir Walter with the same breathlesseagerness as they used to do--how many years agone? It is chiefly fortheir sakes that I have added several interludes, telling howSweetheart, Hugh John, Sir Toady Lion, and Maid Margaret received mypetty larcenies from the full chest of the Wizard. At any rate, Red Cap succeeded in one case--why should he not inanother? I claim no merit in the telling of the tales, save that, likemedicines well sugar-coated, the patients mistook them for candiesand--asked for more. The books are open. Any one can tell Scott's stories over again in hisown way. This is mine. S. R. CROCKETT. CONTENTS CERTAIN SMALL PHARAOHS THAT KNEW NOT JOSEPH 1 RED CAP TALES FROM "WAVERLEY" THE FIRST TALE: I. GOOD-BYE TO WAVERLEY-HONOUR 11 II. THE ENCHANTED CASTLE 16 III. THE BARON AND THE BEAR 21 _THE FIRST INTERLUDE OF ACTION_ 28 THE SECOND TALE: I. THE CATTLE-LIFTING 31 II. THE ROBBER'S CAVE 35 _THE SECOND INTERLUDE_ 41 THE THIRD TALE: I. THE CHIEF OF THE MAC-IVORS AND THE CHIEF'S SISTER 46 II. MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLE 55 _THE THIRD INTERLUDE--BEING MAINLY A FEW WORDS UPON HEROES_ 62 THE FOURTH TALE: HERE AND THERE AMONG THE HEATHER 64 _INTERLUDE OF STICKING-PLASTER_ 78 THE FIFTH TALE: THE WHITE COCKADE 81 THE SIXTH TALE: BLACK LOOKS AND BRIGHT SWORDS 94 _INTERLUDE OF BREVITY_ 104 THE LAST TALE: THE BARON'S SURPRISE 105 RED CAP TALES FROM "GUY MANNERING" _WHERE WE TOLD THE SECOND TALE_ 123 THE FIRST TALE: I. WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY 124 _INTERLUDE OF INTERROGATION_ 140 THE SECOND TALE: I. HAPPY DOMINIE SAMPSON 143 II. DANDIE DINMONT 150 III. IN THE LION'S MOUTH 158 _INTERLUDE OF LOCALITY_ 162 THE THIRD TALE: THE RETURN OF DIRK HATTERAICK 166 THE FOURTH TALE: THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE 185 _INTERLUDE OF CONSULTATION_ 204 RED CAP TALES FROM "ROB ROY" THE FIRST TALE: FRANK THE HIGHWAYMAN 211 _INTERLUDE OF DISCUSSION_ 236 THE SECOND TALE: I. IN THE TOILS OF RASHLEIGH 241 II. ROB ROY AT LAST 254 III. THE BAILIE FIGHTS WITH FIRE 267 IV. THE DROWNING OF THE SPY 276 _INTERLUDE OF EXPOSTULATION_ 284 THE THIRD TALE: I. IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES 288 II. THE ESCAPE 294 III. THE DEATH OF RASHLEIGH 307 RED CAP TALES FROM "THE ANTIQUARY" THE FIRST TALE: I. THE MYSTERIOUS MR. LOVEL 326 II. THE NIGHT OF STORM 337 _INTERLUDE OF WARNING_ 352 THE SECOND TALE: I. LOVEL FIGHTS A DUEL 354 II. THE SEEKERS OF TREASURE 370 III. MISTICOT'S GRAVE 377 _A QUITE SUPERFLUOUS INTERLUDE_ 389 THE THIRD TALE: I. THE EARL'S SECRET 396 II. THE MOTHER'S VENGEANCE 400 III. THE HEIR OF GLENALLAN 408 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS BY SIMON HARMON VEDDER 1 Red Cap among the Wizard's treasures _Frontispiece_ WAVERLEY _Facing page_ 2 In an instant his red cap was off and he was bowing and saluting . . . With . . . Extravagant gestures 20 3 So fierce was the attack . . . Made on Edward, that the young man was compelled to draw his pistol 66 4 Rose Bradwardine . . . Watched him with a sigh on her lip and colour on her cheek 84 5 "Vich Ian Vohr, " it said in a dreadful voice, "beware of to-morrow" 102 GUY MANNERING 6 "Ride your ways, Laird of Ellangowan, " she cried 136 7 He would stand there transfixed . . . Till a serving-maid pulled his skirts to tell him dinner was waiting 150 8 He saw his late companion . . . Engaged in deadly combat with a couple of rascals 154 9 Hazlewood snatched the gun from the servant and haughtily ordered Brown to stand back and not to alarm the lady 170 ROB ROY 10 He took the lantern . . . And holding it up, proceeded to examine the stern, set countenance of Frank's guide 256 11 The fight between Frank and Rashleigh 266 12 "Stand!" she cried, . . . "and tell me what you seek in Macgregor's country" 278 13 The girl's face, perhaps not altogether unintentionally, touched that of Frank Osbaldistone 300 THE ANTIQUARY 14 "Turn back! Turn back!" he cried 344 15 Dousterswivel flung himself on his knees 375 16 He lighted his beacon accordingly 410 RED CAP TALES CERTAIN SMALL PHARAOHS THAT KNEW NOT JOSEPH IT was all Sweetheart's fault, and this is how it came about. She and I were at Dryburgh Abbey, sitting quietly on a rustic seat, andlooking toward the aisle in which slept the Great Dead. The longexpected had happened, and we had made pilgrimage to our Mecca. Yet, inspite of the still beauty of the June day, I could see that a shadow layupon our Sweetheart's brow. "Oh, I know he was great, " she burst out at last, "and what you read meout of the _Life_ was nice. I like hearing about Sir Walter--but--" I knew what was coming. "But what?" I said, looking severely at the ground, so that I might beable to harden my heart against the pathos of Sweetheart's expression. "But--I can't read the novels--indeed I can't. I have tried _Waverley_at least twenty times. And as for _Rob Roy_--" Even the multiplication table failed here, and at this, variouslya-sprawl on the turf beneath, the smaller fry giggled. "Course, " said Hugh John, who was engaged in eating grass like an ox, "we know it is true about _Rob Roy_. She read us one whole volume, andthere wasn't no Rob Roy, nor any fighting in it. So we pelted her withfir-cones to make her stop and read over _Treasure Island_ to usinstead!" "Yes, though we had heard it twenty times already, " commented Sir ToadyLion, trying his hardest to pinch his brother's legs on the sly. "Books wifout pictures is silly!" said a certain Maid Margaret, acompanion new to the honourable company, who was weaving daisy-chains, her legs crossed beneath her, Turk fashion. In literature she had got asfar as words of one syllable, and had a poor opinion even of them. "_I_ had read all Scott's novels long before I was your age, " I saidreprovingly. The children received this announcement with the cautious silence withwhich every rising generation listens to the experiences of its elderswhen retailed by way of odious comparison. "Um-m!" said Sir Toady, the licensed in speech; "_we_ know all that. Oh, yes; and you didn't like fruit, and you liked medicine in a big spoon, and eating porridge and--" "Oh, we know--we know!" cried all the others in chorus. Whereupon Iinformed them what would have happened to us thirty years ago if we hadventured to address our parents in such fashion. But Sweetheart, withthe gravity of her age upon her, endeavoured to raise the discussion toits proper level. "Scott writes such a lot before you get at the story, " she objected, knitting her brows; "why couldn't he just have begun right away?" "With Squire Trelawney and Dr. Livesey drawing at their pipes in theoak-pannelled dining room, and Black Dog outside the door, and Pewcoming tapping along the road with his stick!" cried Hugh John, turningoff a sketchy synopsis of his favourite situations in fiction. "Now that's what I call a proper book!" said Sir Toady, hastily rollinghimself out of the way of being kicked. (For with these unusualchildren, the smooth ordinary upper surfaces of life covered a constantsuccession of private wars and rumours of wars, which went on under thetable at meals, in the schoolroom, and even, it is whispered, inchurch. ) As for blithe Maid Margaret, she said nothing, for she was engaged intesting the capacities of a green slope of turf for turning somersaultsupon. "In Sir Walter Scott's time, " I resumed gravely, "novels were notwritten for little girls--" "Then why did you give us Miss Edgeworth to read?" said Sweetheart, quickly. But I went on without noticing the interruption, "Now, if youlike, I will tell you some of Sir Walter's stories over again, and thenI will mark in your own little edition the chapters you can read foryourselves. " The last clause quieted the joyous shout which the promise of astory--any sort of a story--had called forth. An uncertain look creptover their faces, as if they scented afar off that abomination ofdesolation--"lessons in holiday time. " "_Must_ we read the chapters?" said Hugh John, unhopefully. "Tell us the stories, anyway, and leave it to our honour!" suggested SirToady Lion, with a twinkle in his eye. "Is it a story--oh, don't begin wifout me!" Maid Margaret called frombehind the trees, her sturdy five-year-old legs carrying her to thescene of action so fast that her hat fell off on the grass and she hadto turn back for it. "Well, I will tell you, if I can, the story of 'Waverley, '" I said. "Was he called after the pens?" said Toady Lion the irreverent, butunder his breath. He was, however, promptly kicked into silence by hispeers--seriously this time, for he who interferes with the telling of astory is a "Whelk, "--which, for the moment, is the family word forwhatever is base, mean, unprofitable, and unworthy of being associatedwith. But first I told them about the writing of _Waverley_, and the hand atthe Edinburgh back window which wrote and wrote. Only that, but thestory as told by Lockhart had affected my imagination as a boy. "Did you ever hear of the Unwearied Hand?" I asked them. "It sounds a nice title, " said Sir Toady; "had he only one?" "It was in the early summer weather of 1814, " I began, "after a dinnerin a house in George Street, that a young man, sitting at the wine withhis companions, looked out of the window, and, turning pale, asked hisnext neighbour to change seats with him. "'There it is--at it again!' he said, with a thump of his fist onthetable that made the decanters jump, and clattered the glasses;'it has haunted me every night these three weeks. Just when I amlifting my glass I look through the window, and there it is atit--writing--writing--always writing!' "So the young men, pressing about, looked eagerly, and lo! seen throughthe back window of a house in a street built at right angles, they sawthe shape of a man's hand writing swiftly, steadily, on large quartopages. As soon as one was finished, it was added to a pile which grewand grew, rising, as it were, visibly before their eyes. "'It goes on like that all the time, even after the candles are lit, 'said the young man, 'and it makes me ashamed. I get no peace for it whenI am not at my books. Why cannot the man do his work without makingothers uncomfortable?' "Perhaps some of the company may have thought it was not a man at all, but some prisoned fairy tied to an endless task--Wizard Michael'sfamiliar spirit, or Lord Soulis's imp Red Cap doing his master's biddingwith a goose-quill. "But it was something much more wonderful than any of these. It was thehand of Walter Scott finishing _Waverley_, at the rate of a volume everyten days!" "Why did he work so hard?" demanded Hugh John, whom the appearance offifty hands diligently writing would not have annoyed--no, not if theyhad all worked like sewing-machines. "Because, " I answered, "the man who wrote _Waverley_ was beginning tohave more need of money. He had bought land. He was involved in otherpeople's misfortunes. Besides, for a long time, he had been a greatpoet, and now of late there had arisen a greater. " "I know, " cried Sweetheart, "Lord Byron--but _I_ don't think he was. " "Anyway Fitzjames and Roderick Dhu is ripping!" announced Hugh John, and, rising to his feet, he whistled shrill in imitation of the outlaw. It was the time to take the affairs of children at the fulness of thetide. "I think, " I ventured, "that you would like the story of _Waverley_ if Iwere to tell it now. I know you will like _Rob Roy_. Which shall it befirst?" Then there were counter-cries of "Waverley" and "Rob Roy"--all the furyof a contested election. But Sweetheart, waiting till the brawlers weresomewhat breathed, indicated the final sense of the meeting by sayingquietly, "_Tell us the one the hand was writing!_" RED CAP TALES TOLD FROM WAVERLEY THE FIRST TALE FROM "WAVERLEY"[1] I. GOOD-BYE TO WAVERLEY-HONOUR ON a certain Sunday evening, toward the middle of the eighteenthcentury, a young man stood practising the guards of the broadsword inthe library of an old English manor-house. The young man was CaptainEdward Waverley, recently assigned to the command of a company inGardiner's regiment of dragoons, and his uncle was coming in to say afew words to him before he set out to join the colours. Being a soldier and a hero, Edward Waverley was naturally tall andhandsome, but, owing to the manner of his education, his uncle, an highJacobite of the old school, held that he was "somewhat too bookish" fora proper man. He must therefore see a little of the world, asserted oldSir Everard. His Aunt Rachel had another reason for wishing him to leaveWaverley-Honour. She had actually observed her Edward look too oftenacross at the Squire's pew in church! Now Aunt Rachel held it no wrongto look at Squire Stubbs's pew if only that pew had been empty. But itwas (oh, wickedness!) just when it contained the dear old-fashionedsprigged gown and the fresh pretty face of Miss Cecilia Stubbs, thatAunt Rachel's nephew looked most often in that direction. In addition towhich the old lady was sure she had observed "that little Celie Stubbs"glance over at her handsome Edward in a way that--well, when _she_ wasyoung! And here the old lady bridled and tossed her head, and the wordswhich her lips formed themselves to utter (though she was too ladyliketo speak them) were obviously "The Minx!" Hence it was clear to the mostsimple and unprejudiced that a greater distance had better be putbetween the Waverley loft and the Squire's pew--and that as soon aspossible. Edward's uncle, Sir Everard, had wished him to travel abroad in companywith his tutor, a staunch Jacobite clergyman by the name of Mr. Pembroke. But to this Edward's father, who was a member of thegovernment, unexpectedly refused his sanction. Now Sir Everard despisedhis younger brother as a turncoat (and indeed something little betterthan a spy), but he could not gainsay a father's authority, even thoughhe himself had brought the boy up to be his heir. "I am willing that you should be a soldier, " he said to Edward; "yourancestors have always been of that profession. Be brave like them, butnot rash. Remember you are the last of the Waverleys and the hope ofthe house. Keep no company with gamblers, with rakes, or with Whigs. Doyour duty to God, to the Church of England, and--" He was going to say"to the King, " when he remembered that by his father's wish Edward wasgoing to fight the battles of King George. So the old Jacobite finishedoff rather lamely by repeating, "to the Church of England and allconstituted authorities!" Then the old man, not trusting himself to say more, broke off abruptlyand went down to the stables to choose the horses which were to carryEdward to the north. Finally, he delivered into the hands of his nephewan important letter addressed as follows:-- "To Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine, Esquire of Bradwardine, at his principalmansion of Tully-Veolan in Perthshire, North Britain, --_These. _--" For that was the dignified way in which men of rank directed theirletters in those days. The leave-taking of Mr. Pembroke, Edward's tutor, was even longer andmore solemn. And had Edward attended in the least to his moralisings, hemight have felt somewhat depressed. In conclusion, the good clergymanpresented him with several pounds of foolscap, closely written over ina neat hand. "These, " he said, handling the sheets reverently, "are purposely writtensmall that they may be convenient to keep by you in your saddle-bags. They are my works--my unpublished works. They will teach you the realfundamental principles of the Church, principles concerning which, whileyou have been my pupil, I have been under obligation never to speak toyou. But now as you read them, I doubt not but that the light will comeupon you! At all events, I have cleared my conscience. " Edward, in the quiet of his chamber, glanced at the heading of thefirst: _A Dissent from Dissenters or the Comprehension Confuted_. Hefelt the weight and thickness of the manuscript, and promptly confutedtheir author by consigning the package to that particular corner of histravelling trunk where he was least likely to come across it again. On the other hand, his Aunt Rachel warned him with many head-shakingsagainst the forwardness of the ladies whom he would meet with inScotland (where she had never been). Then, more practically, she putinto his hand a purse of broad gold pieces, and set on his finger anoble diamond ring. As for Miss Celie Stubbs, she came to the Waverley church on the lastday before his departure, arrayed in all her best and newest clothes, mighty fine with hoops, patches, and silks everywhere. But MasterEdward, who had his uniform on for the first time, his gold-laced hatbeside him on the cushion, his broadsword by his side, and his spurs onhis heels, hardly once looked at the Squire's pew. At which neglectlittle Celie pouted somewhat at the time, but since within six monthsshe was married to Jones, the steward's son at Waverley-Honour, withwhom she lived happy ever after, we may take it that her heart could nothave been very deeply touched by Edward's inconstancy. * * * * * [As a suitable first taste of the original I now read to my audiencefrom a pocket _Waverley_, Chapter the Sixth, "The Adieus of Waverley. "It was listened to on the whole with more interest than I had hoped for. It was an encouraging beginning. But Sir Toady, always irrepressible, called out a little impatiently: "That's enough about him. Now tell uswhat he _did!_" And this is how I endeavoured to obey. ] II. THE ENCHANTED CASTLE Edward Waverley found his regiment quartered at Dundee in Scotland, but, the time being winter and the people of the neighbourhood not very fondof the "red soldiers, " he did not enjoy the soldiering life so much ashe had expected. So, as soon as the summer was fairly come, he askedpermission to visit the Castle of Bradwardine, in order to pay hisrespects to his uncle's friend. It was noon of the second day after setting out when Edward Waverleyarrived at the village of Tully-Veolan to which he was bound. Neverbefore had he seen such a place. For, at his uncle's house ofWaverley-Honour, the houses of villagers, all white and neat, stoodabout a village green, or lurked ancient and ivy-grown under the shadeof great old park trees. But the turf-roofed hovels of Tully-Veolan, with their low doors supported on either side by all too intimate pilesof peat and rubbish, appeared to the young Englishman hardly fit forhuman beings to live in. Indeed, from the hordes of wretched curs whichbarked after the heels of his horse, Edward might have supposed themmeant to serve as kennels--save, that is, for the ragged urchins whosprawled in the mud of the road and the old women who, distaff in hand, dashed out to rescue them from being trampled upon by Edward's charger. Passing gardens as full of nettles as of pot-herbs, and entering betweena couple of gate-posts, each crowned by the image of a rampant bear, theyoung soldier at last saw before him, at the end of an avenue, the steeproofs and crow-stepped gable ends of Bradwardine, half dwelling-house, half castle. Here Waverley dismounted, and, giving his horse to thesoldier-servant who had accompanied him, he entered a court in which nosound was to be heard save the plashing of a fountain. He saw the doorof a tall old mansion before him. Going up he raised the knocker, andinstantly the echoes resounded through the empty house. But no one cameto answer. The castle appeared uninhabited, the court a desert. Edwardglanced about him, half expecting to be hailed by some ogre or giant, asadventurers used to be in the fairy tales he had read in childhood. Butinstead he only saw all sorts of bears, big and little, climbing (as itseemed) on the roof, over the windows, and out upon the ends of thegables--while over the door at which he had been vainly knocking he readin antique lettering the motto, "BEWAR THE BAR. " But all these bruinswere of stone, and each one of them kept as still and silent as dideverything else about this strange mansion--except, that is, thefountain, which, behind him in the court, kept up its noisy splashing. Feeling, somehow, vaguely uncomfortable, Edward Waverley crossed thecourt into a garden, green and pleasant, but to the full as solitary asthe castle court. Here again he found more bears, all sitting up in rowson their haunches, on parapets and along terraces, as if engaged inlooking at the view. He wandered up and down, searching for some one towhom to speak, and had almost made up his mind that he had found a realenchanted Castle of Silence, when in the distance he saw a figureapproaching up one of the green walks. There was something uncouth andstrange about the way the newcomer kept waving his hands over hishead--then, for no apparent reason, flapping them across his breast likea groom on a frosty day, hopping all the time first on one foot and thenon the other. Tiring of this way of getting over the ground, he wouldadvance by standing leaps, keeping both feet together. The only thing heseemed quite incapable of doing was to use his feet, one after theother, as ordinary people do when they are walking. Indeed, this strangeguardian of the enchanted castle of Bradwardine looked like a gnome orfairy dwarf. For he was clad in an old-fashioned dress of grey, slashedwith scarlet. On his legs were scarlet stockings and on his head ascarlet cap, which in its turn was surmounted by a turkey's feather. He came along dancing and singing in jerks and snatches, till, suddenlylooking up from the ground, he saw Edward. In an instant his red cap wasoff, and he was bowing and saluting, and again saluting and bowing, with, if possible, still more extravagant gestures than before. Edwardasked this curious creature if the Baron Bradwardine were at home, andwhat was his astonishment to be instantly answered in rhyme: "The Knight's to the mountain His bugle to wind; The Lady's to greenwood Her garland to bind. The bower of Burd Ellen Has moss on the floor, That the step of Lord William, Be silent and sure. " This was impressive enough, surely; but, after all, it did not tellyoung Captain what he wanted to know. So he continued to question thestrange wight, and finally, after eliciting many unintelligible sounds, was able to make out the single word "butler. " [Illustration: "HE came along dancing and singing in jerks and snatches, till, suddenly looking up from the ground, he saw Edward. In an instanthis red cap was off, and he was bowing and saluting, and again salutingand bowing, with, if possible, still more extravagant gestures thanbefore. "] Pouncing upon this, Edward commanded the Unknown to lead him instantlyto the butler. Nothing loath, the fool danced and capered on in front, and, at aturning of the path, they found an old man, who seemed by his dress tobe half butler, half gardener, digging diligently among the flower beds. Upon seeing Captain Waverley, he let drop his spade, undid his greenapron, frowning all the time at Edward's guide for bringing his master'sguest upon him without warning, to find him digging up the earth like acommon labourer. But the Bradwardine butler had an explanation ready. His Honour was with the folk, getting down the Black Hag (so he confidedto Edward). The two gardener lads had been ordered to attend his Honour. So in order to amuse himself, he, the majordomo of Bradwardine, had beenamusing himself with dressing Miss Rose's flower beds. It was but seldomthat he found time for such like, though personally he was very fond ofgarden work. "He cannot get it wrought in more than two days a week, at no ratewhatever!" put in the scarecrow in the red cap and the turkey feather. "Go instantly and find his Honour at the Black Hag, " cried the majordomoof Bradwardine, wrathful at this interference, "and tell him that thereis a gentleman come from England waiting him at the Hall. " "Can this poor fellow deliver a letter?" Edward asked doubtfully. "With all fidelity, sir, " said the butler, "that is, to any one whom herespects. After all, he is more knave than fool. We call the innocentDavie Dolittle, though his proper name is Davie Gellatley. But the truthis, that since my young mistress, Miss Rose Bradwardine, took a fancy todress him up in fine clothes, the creature cannot be got to do a singlehand's turn of work. But here comes Miss Rose herself. Glad will she beto welcome one of the name of Waverley to her father's house!" III. THE BARON AND THE BEAR Rose Bradwardine was still quite young. Scarce did the tale of heryears number seventeen, but already she was noted over all thecountryside as a pretty girl, with a skin like snow, and hair thatglistened like pale gold when the light fell upon it. Living so far fromsociety, she was naturally not a little shy. But as soon as her firstfeeling of bashfulness was over, Rose spoke freely and brightly. Edwardand she, however, had but little time to be alone together. For it wasnot long before the Baron of Bradwardine appeared, striding toward themas if he had possessed himself of the giant's seven-league boots. Bradwardine was a tall, thin, soldierly man, who in his time had seenmuch of the world, and who under a hard and even stern exterior, hid aheart naturally warm. He was much given to the singing of French songs and to making long andlearned Latin quotations. And indeed he quoted Latin, even with thetears standing in his eyes, as he first shook Edward by the hand andthen embraced him in the foreign fashion on both cheeks--all to expressthe immense pleasure it was to receive in his house of Tully-Veolan "aworthy scion of the old stock of Waverley-Honour. " While Miss Rose ran off to make some changes in her dress, the Baronconducted Edward into a hall hung about with pikes and armour. Four orfive servants, in old-fashioned livery, received them with honour, themajordomo at their head. The butler-gardener was not to be caughtnapping a second time. Bradwardine took Captain Waverley at once into an old dining room allpanelled with black oak, round the walls of which hung pictures offormer chiefs of the line of Tully-Veolan. Somewhere out-of-doors a bellwas ringing to announce the arrival of other guests, and Edward observedwith some interest that the table was laid for six people. In such adesolate country it seemed difficult to imagine where they would arrivefrom. Upon this point Edward soon received enlightenment. First, there was theLaird of Balmawhapple, --"a discreet young gentleman, " said the Baron, "much given to field sports. " Next came the Laird of Killancureit, whocultivated his own fields and cared for his own cattle--thereby (quoththe Baron) showing the commonness of his origin. Added to these were a"non-juring" Episcopal minister--that is, one who had refused to takethe oaths of allegiance to King George's government, and, last of all, the "Baron-Bailie" or land-steward of Bradwardine, one Mr. Macwheeble. This last, to show his consciousness of his inferior position, seatedhimself as far as possible from the table, and as often as he wanted toeat, he bent himself nearly double over his plate, in the shape of aclasp-knife about to shut. When dinner was over, Rose and the clergymandiscreetly retired, when, with a sign to the butler, the Baron ofBradwardine produced out of a locked case a golden cup called theBlessed Bear of Bradwardine, in which first the host and then all thecompany pledged the health of the young English stranger. After a while, the Baron and Edward set out to see their guests a certain distance ontheir way, going with them down the avenue to the village "change-house"or inn, where Balmawhapple and Killancureit had stabled their horses. Edward, being weary, would much rather have found himself in bed, butthis desertion of good company the Baron would noways allow. So underthe low cobwebbed roof of Lucky Macleary's kitchen the four gentlemensat down to "taste the sweets of the night. " But it was not long beforethe wine began to do its work in their heads. Each one of them, Edwardexcepted, talked or sang without paying any attention to his fellows. From wine they fell to politics, when Balmawhapple proposed a toastwhich was meant to put an affront upon the uniform Edward wore, and theKing in whose army he served. "To the little gentleman in black velvet, " cried the young Laird, "hewho did such service in 1702, and may the white horse break his neckover a mound of his making!" The "little gentleman in black velvet" was the mole over whose hillockKing William's horse is said to have stumbled, while the "white horse"represented the house of Hanover. Though of a Jacobite family, Edward could not help taking offence at theobvious insult, but the Baron was before him. The quarrel was not his, he assured him. The guest's quarrel was the host's--so long as heremained under his roof. "Here, " quoth the Baron, "I am _in loco parentis_ to you, CaptainWaverley. I am bound to see you scatheless. And as for you, Mr. Falconerof Balmawhapple, I warn you to let me see no more aberrations from thepaths of good manners. " "And I tell you, Mr. Cosmo Comyne Bradwardine of Bradwardine andTully-Veolan, " retorted the other, in huge disdain, "that I will make amuir cock of the man that refuses my toast, whether he be a crop-earedEnglish Whig wi' a black ribband at his lug, or ane wha deserts hisfriends to claw favour wi' the rats of Hanover!" In an instant rapiers were out, and the Baron and Balmawhapple hard atit. The younger man was stout and active, but he was no match for theBaron at the sword-play. And the encounter would not have lasted long, had not the landlady, Lucky Macleary, hearing the well-known clash ofswords, come running in on them, crying that surely the gentlemen wouldnot bring dishonour on an honest widow-woman's house, when there was allthe lee land in the country to do their fighting upon. So saying, she stopped the combat very effectually by flinging her plaidover the weapons of the adversaries. * * * * * Next morning Edward awoke late, and in no happy frame of mind. It was anage of duels, and with his first waking thoughts there came the memoryof the insult which had been passed upon him by the Laird ofBalmawhapple. His position as an officer and a Waverley left him noalternative but to send that sportsman a challenge. Upon descending, hefound Rose Bradwardine presiding at the breakfast table. She was alone, but Edward felt in no mood for conversation, and sat gloomy, silent, andill-content with himself and with circumstances. Suddenly he saw theBaron and Balmawhapple pass the window arm in arm, and the next momentthe butler summoned him to speak with his master in another apartment. There he found Balmawhapple, no little sulky and altogether silent, withthe Baron by his side. The latter in his capacity of mediator madeEdward a full and complete apology for the events of the pastevening--an apology which the young man gladly accepted along with thehand of the offender--somewhat stiffly given, it is true, owing to thenecessity of carrying his right arm in a sling--the result (asBalmawhapple afterwards assured Miss Rose) of a fall from his horse. It was not till the morning of the second day that Edward learned thewhole history of this reconciliation, which had at first been so welcometo him. It was Daft Davie Gellatley, who, by the roguish singing of aballad, first roused his suspicions that something underlayBalmawhapple's professions of regret for his conduct. "The young man will brawl at the evening board _Heard ye so merry the little birds sing?_ But the old man will draw at the dawning the sword, _And the throstle-cock's head is under his wing. _" Edward could see by the sly looks of the Fool that he meant somethingpersonal by this, so he plied the butler with questions, and discoveredthat the Baron had actually fought Balmawhapple on the morning after theinsult, and wounded him in the sword-arm! Here, then, was the secret of the young Laird's unexpected submissionand apology. As Davie Gellatley put it, Balmawhapple had been "sent hamewi' his boots full o' bluid!" THE FIRST INTERLUDE OF ACTION The tale-telling had at this point to be broken off. Clouds began to spin themselves from Eildon top. Dinner also was in prospect, and, most of all, having heard so much of the tale, the four listeners desired to begin to "play Waverley. " Sweetheart made a stately, if skirted, Bradwardine. Besides, she was in _Cæsar_, and had store of Latin quotations--mostly, it is true, from the examples in the grammar, such as "_Illa incedit regina!_" Certainly she walked like a queen. Or, as it might be expressed, more fittingly with the character of the Baron in the original: "Stately stepped she east the wa', And stately stepped she west. " Hugh John considered the hero's part in any story only his due. His only fault with that of Waverley was that so far he had done so little. He specially resented the terrible combat "in the dawning" between the Baron and the overbold Balmawhapple (played by Maid Margaret). Sir Toady Lion as low comedian ("camelion" he called it) performed numerous antics as Daft Davie Gellatley. He had dressed the part to perfection by putting his striped jersey on outside his coat, and sticking in his cricket cap such feathers as he could find. "Lie down, Hugh John, " he cried, in the middle of his dancing and singing round and round the combatants; "why, you are asleep in bed!" This, according to the authorities, being obvious, the baffled hero had to succumb, with the muttered reflection that "Jim Hawkins wouldn't have had to stay asleep, when there was a fight like that going on!" Still, however, Hugh John could not restrain the natural rights of criticism. He continually raised his head from his pillow of dried branches to watch Sweetheart and Maid Margaret. "You fight just like girls, " he cried indignantly; "keep your left hand behind you, Bradwardine--or Balmawhapple will hack it off! I say--girls _are_ silly things. You two are afraid of hurting each other. Now me and Toady Lion--" And he gave details of a late fraternal combat much in the manner of Froissart. It is to be noted that thus far both Sweetheart and Maid Margaret disdained the female parts, the latter even going the length of saying that she preferred Celie Stubbs, the Squire's daughter at Waverley-Honour, to Rose Bradwardine. On being asked for an explanation of this heresy, she said, "Well, at any rate, Celie Stubbs got a new hat to come to church in!" * * * * * And though I read the "Repentance and a Reconciliation" chapter, which makes number Twelve of _Waverley_, to the combatants, I was conscious that I must hasten on to scenes more exciting if I meant to retain the attention of my small but exacting audience. Furthermore, it was beginning to rain. So, hurriedly breaking off the tale, we drove back to Melrose across the green holms of St. Boswells. It was after the hour of tea, and the crowd of visitors had ebbed away from the precincts of the Abbey before the tale was resumed. A flat "throuch" stone sustained the narrator, while the four disposed themselves on the sunny grass, in the various attitudes of severe inattention which youth assumes when listening to a story. Sweetheart pored into the depths of a buttercup. Hugh John scratched the freestone of a half-buried tomb with a nail till told to stop. Sir Toady Lion, having a "pinch-bug" coralled in his palms, sat regarding it cautiously between his thumbs. Only Maid Margaret, her dimpled chin on her knuckles, sat looking upward in rapt attention. For her there was no joy like that of a story. Only, she was too young to mind letting the tale-teller know it. That made the difference. Above our heads the beautiful ruin mounted, now all red gold in the lights, and purple in the shadows, while round and round, and through and through, from highest tower to lowest arch, the swifts shrieked and swooped. THE SECOND TALE FROM "WAVERLEY" I. THE CATTLE-LIFTING NEXT morning (I continued, looking up for inspiration to the pinnaclesof Melrose, cut against the clear sky of evening, as sharply as when"John Morow, master mason, " looked upon his finished work and found itvery good)--next morning, as Captain Edward Waverley was setting out forhis morning walk, he found the castle of Bradwardine by no means theenchanted palace of silence he had first discovered. Milkmaids, bare-legged and wild-haired, ran about distractedly with pails andthree-legged stools in their hands, crying, "Lord, guide us!" and "Eh, sirs!" Bailie Macwheeble, mounted on his dumpy, round-barrelled pony, rodehither and thither with half the ragged rascals of the neighbourhoodclattering after him. The Baron paced the terrace, every moment glancingangrily up at the Highland hills from under his bushy grey eyebrows. From the byre-lasses and the Bailie, Edward could obtain no satisfactoryexplanation of the disturbance. He judged it wiser not to seek it fromthe angry Baron. Within-doors, however, he found Rose, who, though troubled and anxious, replied to his questions readily enough. "There has been a 'creach, ' that is, a raid of cattle-stealers from outof the Highland hills, " she told him, hardly able to keep back hertears--not, she explained, because of the lost cattle, but because shefeared that the anger of her father might end in the slaying of some ofthe Caterans, and in a blood-feud which would last as long as they orany of their family lived. "And all because my father is too proud to pay blackmail to Vich IanVohr!" she added. "Is the gentleman with that curious name, " said Edward, "a local robberor a thief-taker?" "Oh, no, " Rose laughed outright at his southern ignorance, "he is agreat Highland chief and a very handsome man. Ah, if only my fatherwould be friends with Fergus Mac-Ivor, then Tully-Veolan would onceagain be a safe and happy home. He and my father quarrelled at a countymeeting about who should take the first place. In his heat he told myfather that he was under his banner and paid him tribute. But it wasBailie Macwheeble who had paid the money without my father's knowledge. And since then he and Vich Ian Vohr have not been friends. " "But what is blackmail?" Edward asked in astonishment. For he thoughtthat such things had been done away with long ago. All this was justlike reading an old black-letter book in his uncle's library. "It is money, " Rose explained, "which, if you live near the Highlandborder, you must pay to the nearest powerful chief--such as Vich IanVohr. And then, if your cattle are driven away, all you have to do isjust to send him word and he will have them sent back, or others as goodin their places. Oh, you do not know how dreadful to be at feud with aman like Fergus Mac-Ivor. I was only a girl of ten when my father andhis servants had a skirmish with a party of them, near our home-farm--sonear, indeed, that some of the windows of the house were broken by thebullets, and three of the Highland raiders were killed. I rememberseeing them brought in and laid on the floor in the hall, each wrappedin his plaid. And next morning their wives and daughters came, clappingtheir hands and crying the _coronach_ and shrieking--and they carriedaway the dead bodies, with the pipes playing before them. Oh, I couldnot sleep for weeks afterward, without starting up, thinking that Iheard again these terrible cries. " All this seemed like a dream to Waverley--to hear this young gentle girlof seventeen talk familiarly of dark and bloody deeds, such as even he, a grown man and a soldier, had only imagined--yet which she had seenwith her own eyes! By dinner-time the Baron's mood had grown somewhat less stormy. Heseemed for the moment to forget his wounded honour, and was evenoffering, as soon as the quarrel was made up, to provide Edward withintroductions to many powerful northern chiefs, when the door opened, and a Highlander in full costume was shown in by the butler. "Welcome, Evan Dhu Maccombich!" said the Baron, without rising, andspeaking in the manner of a prince receiving an embassy; "what news fromFergus Mac-Ivor Vich Ian Vohr?" The ambassador delivered a courteous greeting from the Highland chief. "Fergus Mac-Ivor (he said) was sorry for the cloud that hung between himand his ancient friend. He hoped that the Baron would be sorry too--andthat he should say so. More than this he did not ask. " This the Baron readily did, drinking to the health of the chief of theMac-Ivors, while Evan Maccombich in turn drank prosperity to the houseof Bradwardine. II. THE ROBBER'S CAVE Then these high matters being finished, the Highlander retired withBailie Macwheeble, doubtless to arrange with him concerning the arrearsof blackmail. But of that the Baron was supposed to know nothing. Thisdone, the Highlander began to ask all about the party which had drivenoff the cattle, their appearance, whence they had come, and in whatplace they had last been seen. Edward was much interested by the man'sshrewd questions and the quickness with which he arrived at hisconclusions. While on his part Evan Dhu was so flattered by the evidentinterest of the young Englishman, that he invited him to "take a walkwith him into the mountains in search of the cattle, " promising him thatif the matter turned out as he expected, he would take Edward to such aplace as he had never seen before and might never have a chance ofseeing again. Waverley accepted with eager joy, and though Rose Bradwardine turnedpale at the idea, the Baron, who loved boldness in the young, encouragedthe adventure. He gave Edward a young gamekeeper to carry his pack andto be his attendant, so that he might make the journey with fittingdignity. Through a great pass, full of rugged rocks and seamed with roaringtorrents--indeed, the very pass of Bally-Brough in which the reivers hadlast been spied--across weary and dangerous morasses, where Edward hadperforce to spring from tuft to tussock of coarse grass, Evan Dhu ledour hero into the depths of the wild Highland country, --where no Saxonfoot trod or dared to tread without the leave of Vich Ian Vohr, as thechief's foster-brother took occasion to inform Edward more than once. By this time night was coming on, and Edward's attendant was sent offwith one of Evan Dhu's men, that they might find a place to sleep in, while Evan himself pushed forward to warn the supposed cattle-stealer, one Donald Bean Lean, of the party's near approach. For, as Evan Dhusaid, the Cateran might very naturally be startled by the suddenappearance of a _sidier roy_--or red soldier--in the very place of hismost secret retreat. Edward was thus left alone with the single remaining Highlander, fromwhom, however, he could obtain no further information as to hisjourney's end--save that, as the Sassenach was somewhat tired, DonaldBean might possibly send the _currach_ for him. Edward wished much to know whether the _currach_ was a horse, a cart, ora chaise. But in spite of all his efforts, he could get no more out ofthe man with the Lochaber axe than the words repeated over and overagain, "_Aich aye, ta currach! Aich aye, ta currach!_" However, after stumbling on a little farther, they came out on theshores of a loch, and the guide, pointing through the darkness in thedirection of a little spark of light far away across the water, said, "Yon's ta cove!" Almost at the same moment the dash of oars was heard, and a shrill whistle came to their ears out of the darkness. This theHighlander answered, and a boat appeared in which Edward was soonseated, and on his way to the robber's cave. The light, which at first had been no bigger than a rush-light, grewrapidly larger, glowing red (as it seemed) upon the very bosom of thelake. Cliffs began to rise above their heads, hiding the moon. And, asthe boat rapidly advanced, Edward could make out a great fire kindled onthe shore, into which dark mysterious figures were busily flinging pinebranches. The fire had been built on a narrow ledge at the opening of agreat black cavern, into which an inlet of the loch seemed to advance. The men rowed straight for this black entrance. Then, letting the boatrun on with shipped oars, the fire was soon passed and left behind, andthe cavern entered through a great rocky arch. At the foot of somenatural steps the boat stopped. The beacon brands which had served toguide them were thrown hissing into the water, and Edward found himselflifted out of the boat by brawny arms and carried almost bodily into thedepths of the cavern. Presently, however, he was allowed to walk, thoughstill guided on either side, when suddenly at a turn of the rockpassage, the cave opened out, and Edward found the famous Cateran, Donald Bean Lean, and his whole establishment plain before his eyes. The cavern was lit with pine torches, and about a charcoal fire five orsix Highlanders were seated, while in the dusk behind several othersslumbered, wrapped in their plaids. In a large recess to one side wereseen the carcasses of both sheep and cattle, hung by the heels as in abutcher's shop, some of them all too evidently the spoils of the Baronof Bradwardine's flocks and herds. The master of this strange dwelling came forward to welcome Edward, while Evan Dhu stood by his side to make the necessary introductions. Edward had expected to meet with a huge savage warrior in the captain ofsuch banditti, but to his surprise he found Donald Bean Lean to be alittle man, pale and insignificant in appearance, and not even Highlandin dress. For at one time Donald had served in the French army. So now, instead of receiving Edward in his national costume, he had put on anold blue-and-red foreign uniform, in which he made so strange a figurethat, though it was donned in his honour, his visitor had hard work tokeep from laughing. Nor was the freebooter's conversation more in accordwith his surroundings. He talked much of Edward's family andconnections, and especially of his uncle's Jacobite politics--on whichlast account, he seemed inclined to welcome the young man with morecordiality than, as a soldier of King George, Edward felt to be his due. The scene which followed was, however, better fitted to the time andplace. At a half-savage feast Edward had the opportunity of tasting steaksfresh cut from some of the Baron's cattle, broiled on the coals beforehis eyes, and washed down with draughts of Highland whiskey. Yet in spite of the warmth of his welcome, there was something verysecret and unpleasant about the shifty cunning glance of this littlerobber-chief, who seemed to know so much about the royal garrisons, andeven about the men of Edward's own troop whom he had brought with himfrom Waverley-Honour. When at last they were left alone together, Evan Dhu having lain down inhis plaid, the little captain of cattle-lifters asked Captain Waverleyin a very significant manner, "if he had nothing particular to say tohim. " Edward, a little startled at the tone in which the question was put, answered that he had no other reason for coming to the cave but a desireto see so strange a dwelling-place. For a moment Donald Bean Lean looked him full in the face, as if waitingfor something more, and then, with a nod full of meaning, he muttered:"You might as well have confided in me. I am as worthy of trust aseither the Baron of Bradwardine or Vich Ian Vohr! But you are equallywelcome to my house!" His heather bed, the flickering of the fire, the smoking torches, andthe movement of the wild outlaws going and coming about the cave, soon, however, diverted Waverley's thoughts from the mysterious words of hishost. His eyelids drew together, nor did he reopen them till the morningsun, reflected from the lake, was filling all the cave with a glimmeringtwilight. THE SECOND INTERLUDE As soon as this part of the tale was finished, the audience showed much greater eagerness to enter immediately upon the acting of Donald Bean Lean's cattle-raid, and its consequences, than it had previously displayed as to the doings of Edward Waverley. As Hugh John admitted, this was "something like!" The Abbey precincts were instantly filled with the mingled sounds characteristic of all well-conducted forays, and it was well indeed that the place was wholly deserted. For the lowings of the driven cattle, the shouts of the triumphant Highlanders, the deep rage of the Baron, stalking to and fro wrapped in his cloak on the Castle terrace, might well have astonished the crowd which in these summer days comes from the four corners of the world "to view fair Melrose aright. " It was not till the edge had worn off their first enthusiasm, that it became possible to collect them again in order to read "The Hold of a Highland Robber, " which makes Chapter Seventeenth of _Waverley_ itself. And the reading so fired the enthusiasm of Sweetheart that she asked for the book to take to bed with her. The boys were more practical, though equally enthusiastic. "Wait till we get home, " cried Hugh John, cracking his fingers and thumbs. "I know a proper place for Donald Bean Lean's cave. " "And I, " said Sir Toady Lion, "will light a fire by the pond and toss the embers into the water. It will be jolly to hear 'em hiss, I tell you!" "But what, " asked Maid Margaret, "shall we do for the cattle and sheep that were hanging by the heels, when Edward went into Donald Bean Lean's cave?" "Why, we will hang _you_ up by the heels and cut slices off you!" said Sir Toady, with frowning truculence. Whereat the little girl, a little solemnised, began to edge away from the dangerous neighbourhood of such a pair of young cannibals. Sweetheart reproached her brothers for inventing calumnies against their countrymen. "Even the Highlanders were never so wicked, " she objected; "they did not eat one another. " "Well, anyway, " retorted Sir Toady Lion, unabashed, "Sawney Bean did. Perhaps he was a cousin of Donald's, though in the history it says that he came from East Lothian. " "Yes, " cried Hugh John, "and in an old book written in Latin it says (father read it to us) that one of his little girls was too young to be executed with the rest on the sands of Leith. So the King sent her to be brought up by kind people, where she was brought up without knowing anything of her father, the cannibal, and her mother, the cannibaless--" "Oh, " cried Sweetheart, who knew what was coming, putting up her hands over her ears, "please don't tell that dreadful story all over again. " "Father read it out of a book--so there!" cried Sir Toady, implacably, "go on, Hugh John!" "And so when this girl was about as big as Sweetheart, and, of course, could not remember her grandfather's nice cave or the larder where the arms and legs were hung up to dry in the smoke--" "Oh, you horrid boy!" cried Sweetheart, not, however, removing herself out of ear-shot--because, after all, it was nice to shiver just a little. "Oh, yes, and I have seen the cave, " cried Sir Toady, "it is on the shore near Ballantrae--a horrid place. Go on, Hugh John, tell about Sawney Bean's grandchild!" "Well, she grew up and up, playing with dolls just like other girls, till she was old enough to be sent out to service. And after she had been a while about the house to which she went, it was noticed that some of the babies in the neighbourhood began to go a-missing, and they found--" "I think she was a nursemaid!" interrupted Sir Toady, dispassionately. "That must have been it. The little wretches cried--_so she ate them!_" "Oh, " cried Sweetheart, stopping her ears with her fingers, "don't tell us what they found--I believe you made it all up, anyway. " "No, I didn't, " cried Hugh John, shouting in her ear as if to a very deaf person, "it was father who read it to us, out of a big book with fat black letters. So it must be true!" Sir Toady was trying to drag away his sister's arms that she might have the benefit of details, when I appeared in the distance. Whereupon Hugh John, who felt his time growing limited, concluded thus, "And when they were taking the girl away to hang her, the minister asked her why she had killed the babies, and she answered him, 'If people only knew how good babies were--especially little girls--_there would not be one left between Forth and Solway!_'" Then quite unexpectedly Maid Margaret began to sob bitterly. "They _shan't_ hang me up and eat me, " she cried, running as hard as she could and flinging herself into my arms; "Hugh John and Sir Toady say they will, as soon as we get home. " Happily I had a light cane of a good vintage in my hand, and it did not take long to convince the pair of young scamps of the inconvenience of frightening their little sister. Sweetheart looked on approvingly as two forlorn young men were walked off to a supper, healthfully composed of plain bread and butter, and washed down by some nice cool water from the pump. "I told you!" she said, "you wouldn't believe me. " All the same she was tender-hearted enough to convey a platter of broken meats secretly up to their "condemned cell, " as I knew from finding the empty plate under their washstand in the morning. And as Maid Margaret was being carried off to be bathed and comforted, a Voice, passing their door, threatened additional pains and penalties to little boys who frightened their sisters. "It was all in a book, " said Hugh John, defending himself from under the bedclothes, "father read it to us!" "We did it for her good, " suggested Sir Toady. "If I hear another word out of you--" broke in the Voice; and then added, "go to sleep this instant!" The incident of the cave had long been forgotten and forgiven, before I could continue the story of Waverley in the cave of Donald Bean Lean. We sat once more "in oor ain hoose at hame, " or rather outside it, near a certain pleasant chalet in a wood, from which place you can see a brown and turbulent river running downward to the sea. THE THIRD TALE FROM "WAVERLEY" I. THE CHIEF OF THE MAC-IVORS AND THE CHIEF'S SISTER WHEN Edward awoke next morning, he could not for a moment remember wherehe was. The cave was deserted. Only the grey ashes of the fire, a fewgnawed bones, and an empty keg remained to prove that he was still onthe scene of last night's feast. He went out into the sunlight. In alittle natural harbour the boat was lying snugly moored. Farther out, ona rocky spit, was the mark of last night's beacon-fire. Here Waverleyhad to turn back. Cliffs shut him in on every side, and Edward was at aloss what to do, till he discovered, climbing perilously out in the rockabove the cave mouth, some slight steps or ledges. These he mounted withdifficulty, and, passing over the shoulder of the cliff, found himselfpresently on the shores of a loch about four miles long, surrounded onevery side by wild heathery mountains. In the distance he could see a man fishing and a companion watching him. By the Lochaber axe which the latter carried Edward recognised thefisher as Evan Dhu. On a stretch of sand under a birch tree, a girl waslaying out a breakfast of milk, eggs, barley bread, fresh butter, andhoneycomb. She was singing blithely, yet she must have had to travel farthat morning to collect such dainties in so desolate a region. This proved to be Alice, the daughter of Donald Bean Lean, and it isnothing to her discredit that she had made herself as pretty as shecould, that she might attend upon the handsome young Englishman. Allcommunication, however, had to be by smiles and signs, for Alice spokeno English. Nevertheless she set out her dainties with right good-will, and then seated herself on a stone a little distance away to watch foran opportunity of serving the young soldier. Presently Evan Dhu came up with his catch, a fine salmon-trout, and soonslices of the fish were broiling on the wood embers. After breakfast, Alice gathered what was left into a wicker basket, and, flinging herplaid about her, presented her cheek to Edward for "the stranger'skiss. " Evan Dhu made haste to secure a similar privilege, but Alicesprang lightly up the bank out of his reach, and with an arch wave ofher hand to Edward she disappeared. Then Evan Dhu led Edward back to the boat. The three men embarked, andafter emerging from the mouth of the cavern, a clumsy sail was hoisted, and they bore away up the lake--Evan Dhu all the time loud in thepraises of Alice Bean Lean. Edward said that it was a pity that such a maiden should be the daughterof a common thief. But this Evan hotly denied. According to Evan, DonaldBean Lean, though indeed no reputable character, was far from being athief. A thief was one who stole a cow from a poor cotter, but he wholifted a drove from a Sassenach laird was "a gentleman drover. " "But he would be hanged, all the same, if he were caught!" objectedEdward. "I do not see the difference. " "To be sure, he would _die for the law_, as many a pretty man has donebefore him, " cried Evan. "And a better death than to die, lying on dampstraw in yonder cave like a mangy tyke!" "And what, " Edward suggested, "would become of pretty Alice then?" "Alice is both canny and fendy, " said the bold Evan Dhu, with a cock ofhis bonnet, "and I ken nocht to hinder me to marry her mysel'!" Edward laughed and applauded the Highlander's spirit, but asked also asto the fate of the Baron of Bradwardine's cattle. "By this time, " said Evan, "I warrant they are safe in the pass ofBally-Brough and on their road back to Tully-Veolan. And that is morethan a regiment of King George's red soldiers could have brought about!" Evan Dhu had indeed some reason to be proud. Reassured as to this, Edward accompanied his guide with more confidencetoward the castle of Vich Ian Vohr. The "five miles Scots" seemed tostretch themselves out indefinitely, but at last the figure of a hunter, equipped with gun, dogs, and a single attendant, was seen far across theheath. "_Shogh_, " said the man with the Lochaber axe, "tat's the Chief!" Evan Dhu, who had boasted of his master's great retinue, denied itfiercely. "The Chief, " he said, "would not come out with never a soul with him butCallum Beg, to meet with an English gentleman. " But in spite of this prophecy, the Chief of Clan Ivor it was. FergusMac-Ivor, whom his people called Vich Ian Vohr, was a young man of muchgrace and dignity, educated in France, and of a strong, secret, andturbulent character, which by policy he hid for the most part under anappearance of courtesy and kindness. He had long been mustering his clanin secret, in order once more to take a leading part in another attemptto dethrone King George, and to set on the throne of Britain either theChevalier St. George or his son Prince Charles. When Waverley and the Chief approached the castle--a stern and ruggedpile, surrounded by walls, they found a large body of armed Highlandersdrawn up before the gate. "These, " said Vich Ian Vohr, carelessly, "are a part of the clan whom Iordered out, to see that they were in a fit state to defend the countryin such troublous times. Would Captain Waverley care to see them gothrough part of their exercise?" Thereupon the men, after showing their dexterity at drill, and theirfine target-shooting, divided into two parties, and went through theincidents of a battle--the charge, the combat, the flight, and theheadlong pursuit--all to the sound of the great warpipes. Edward asked why, with so large a force, the Chief did not at once putdown such robber bands as that of Donald Bean Lean. "Because, " said the Chief, bitterly, "if I did, I should at once besummoned to Stirling Castle to deliver up the few broadswords thegovernment has left us. I should gain little by that. But there isdinner, " he added, as if anxious to change the subject, "let me show youthe inside of my rude mansion. " The long and crowded dinner-table to which Edward sat down, told of theChief's immense hospitality. After the meal, healths were drunk, and thebard of the clan recited a wild and thrilling poem in Gaelic--of which, of course, Edward could not understand so much as one word, though itexcited the clansmen so that they sprang up in ecstasy, many of themwaving their arms about in sympathy with the warlike verses. The Chief, exactly in the ancient manner, presented a silver cup full of wine tothe minstrel. He was to drink the one and keep the other for himself. After a few more toasts, Vich Ian Vohr offered to take Waverley up to bepresented to his sister. They found Flora Mac-Ivor in her parlour, aplain and bare chamber with a wide prospect from the windows. She hadher brother's dark curling hair, dark eyes, and lofty expression, buther expression seemed sweeter, though not, perhaps, softer. She was, however, even more fiercely Jacobite than her brother, and her devotionto "the King over the Water" (as they called King James) was far moreunselfish than that of Vich Ian Vohr. Flora Mac-Ivor had been educatedin a French convent, yet now she gave herself heart and soul to the goodof her wild Highland clan and to the service of him whom she looked onas the true King. She was gracious to Edward, and at the request of Fergus, told him themeaning of the war-song he had been listening to in the hall. She was, her brother said, famed for her translations from Gaelic into English, but for the present she could not be persuaded to recite any of these toEdward. He had better fortune, however, when, finding Flora Mac-Ivor in a wildspot by a waterfall, she sang him, to the accompaniment of a harp, asong of great chiefs and their deeds which fired the soul of the youngman. He could not help admiring--he almost began to love her from thatmoment. After this reception, Edward continued very willingly atGlennaquoich--both because of his growing admiration for Flora, andbecause his curiosity increased every day as to this wild race, and thelife so different from all that he had hitherto known. Nothing occurredfor three weeks to disturb his pleasant dreams, save the chancediscovery, made when he was writing a letter to the Baron, that he hadsomehow lost his seal with the arms of Waverley, which he wore attachedto his watch. Flora was inclined to blame Donald Bean Lean for thetheft, but the Chief scouted the idea. It was impossible, he said, whenEdward was his guest, and, besides (he added slyly), Donald would neverhave taken the seal and left the watch. Whereupon Edward borrowed VichIan Vohr's seal, and, having despatched his letter, thought no more ofthe matter. Soon afterwards, whilst Waverley still remained at Glennaquoich, therewas a great hunting of the stag, to which Fergus went with three hundredof his clan to meet some of the greatest Highland chiefs, hisneighbours. He took Edward with him, and the numbers present amountedalmost to those of a formidable army. While the clansmen drove in thedeer, the chiefs sat on the heather in little groups and talked in lowtones. During the _drive_, the main body of the deer, in theirdesperation, charged right upon the place where the chief sportsmenwere waiting in ambush. The word was given for every one to flinghimself down on his face. Edward, not understanding the language, remained erect, and his life was only saved by the quickness of Vich IanVohr, who seized him and flung him down, holding him there by main forcetill the whole herd had rushed over them. When Edward tried to rise, hefound that he had severely sprained his ankle. However, among those present at the _drive_, there was found an old man, half-surgeon, half-conjurer, who applied hot fomentations, muttering allthe time of the operation such gibberish as _Gaspar-Melchior-Balthazar-max-prax-fax!_ Thus it happened that, to his great disappointment, Edward was unable toaccompany the clansmen and their chiefs any farther. So Vich Ian Vohrhad Edward placed in a litter, woven of birch and hazel, and walkedbeside this rude couch to the house of an old man, a smaller chieftain, who, with only a few old vassals, lived a retired life at a place calledTomanrait. Here he left Edward to recruit, promising to come back in a few days, inthe hope that by that time Edward would be able to ride a Highland ponyin order to return to Glennaquoich. On the sixth morning Fergus returned, and Edward gladly mounted toaccompany him. As they approached the castle, he saw, with pleasure, Flora coming to meet them. II. MISFORTUNES NEVER COME SINGLE The Chief's beautiful sister appeared very glad to see Edward, and, asher brother spoke a few hasty words to her in Gaelic, she suddenlyclasped her hands, and, looking up to heaven, appeared to ask a blessingupon some enterprise. She then gave Edward some letters that had arrivedfor him during his absence. It was perhaps as well that Edward tookthese to his room to open, considering the amount of varied ill newsthat he found in them. The first was from his father, who had just been dismissed from hisposition as King's minister, owing (as he put it) to the ingratitude ofthe great--but really, as was proved afterwards, on account of somepolitical plots which he had formed against his chief, the primeminister of the day. Then his generous uncle, Sir Everard, wrote that all differences wereover between his brother and himself. He had espoused his quarrel, andhe directed Edward at once to send in the resignation of his commissionto the War Office without any preliminaries, forbidding him longer toserve a government which had treated his father so badly. But the letter which touched Edward most deeply was one from hiscommanding officer at Dundee, which declared curtly that if he did notreport himself at the headquarters of the regiment within three daysafter the date of writing, he would be obliged to take steps in thematter which would be exceedingly disagreeable to Captain Waverley. Edward at once sat down and wrote to Colonel Gardiner that, as he hadthus chosen to efface the remembrance of past civilities, there wasnothing left to him but to resign his commission, which he did formally, and ended his letter by requesting his commanding officer to forwardthis resignation to the proper quarter. No little perplexed as to the meaning of all this, Edward was on his wayto consult Fergus Mac-Ivor on the subject, when the latter advanced withan open newspaper in his hand. "Do your letters, " he asked, "confirm this unpleasant news?" And he held out the _Caledonian Mercury_, in which not only did he findhis father's disgrace chronicled, but on turning to the _Gazette_ hefound the words, "Edward Waverley, Captain in the --th regiment ofdragoons, superseded for absence without leave. " The name of hissuccessor, one Captain Butler, followed immediately. On looking at the date of Colonel Gardiner's missive as compared withthat of the _Gazette_, it was evident that his commanding officer hadcarried out his threat to the letter. Yet it was not at all like him tohave done so. It was still more out of keeping with the constantkindness that he had shown to Edward. It was the young man's first idea, in accordance with the customs of the time, to send Colonel Gardiner achallenge. But, upon Fergus Mac-Ivor's advice, Edward ultimatelycontented himself with adding a postscript to his first letter, markingthe time at which he had received the first summons, and regretting thatthe hastiness of his commander's action had prevented his anticipatingit by sending in his resignation. "That, if anything, " said Fergus, "will make this Calvinistic colonelblush for his injustice. " But it was not long before some part at least of the mystery was madeplain. Fergus took advantage of Edward's natural anger at his unworthytreatment, to reveal to him that a great rising was about to take placein the Highlands in favour of King James, and to urge him to cast in hislot with the clans. Flora, on the contrary, urged him to be careful andcautious, lest he should involve others to whom he owed everything, in acommon danger with himself. Edward, whose fancy (if not whose heart) had gradually been turning moreand more toward the beautiful and patriotic Flora, appeared lessinterested in rebellion than in obtaining her brother's good-will andbespeaking his influence with his sister. "Out upon you, " cried Fergus, with pretended ill-humour, "can you thinkof nothing but ladies at such a time? Besides, why come to me in such amatter? Flora is up the glen. Go and ask herself. And Cupid go with you!But do not forget that my lovely sister, like her loving brother, is aptto have a pretty strong will of her own!" Edward's heart beat as he went up the rocky hillside to find Flora. Shereceived and listened to him with kindness, but steadily refused togrant him the least encouragement. All her thoughts, her hopes, her lifeitself, were set on the success of this one bold stroke for a crown. Till the rightful King was on his throne, she could not think ofanything else. Love and marriage were not for such as Flora Mac-Ivor. Edward, in spite of the manifest good-will of the chief, had to becontent with such cold comfort as he could extract from Flora's promisethat she would remember him in her prayers! Next morning Edward was awakened to the familiar sound of Daft DavieGellatley's voice singing below his window. For a moment he thoughthimself back at Tully-Veolan. Davie was declaring loudly that "_My heart's in the Highland, my heart is not here. _" Then, immediately changing to a less sentimental strain, he added with acontemptuous accent: "_There's nocht in the Highlands but syboes and leeks, _ _And lang-leggit callants gaun wanting the breeks;_ _Wanting the breeks, and without hose or shoon, _ _But we'll a' win the breeks when King Jamie comes hame. _" Edward, eager to know what had brought the Bradwardine "innocent" so farfrom home, dressed hastily and went down. Davie, without stopping hisdancing for a moment, came whirling past, and, as he went, thrust aletter into Waverley's hand. It proved to be from Rose Bradwardine, andamong other things it contained the news that the Baron had gone away tothe north with a body of horsemen, while the red soldiers had been atTully-Veolan searching for her father and also asking after Edwardhimself. Indeed they had carried off his servant prisoner, together witheverything he had left at Tully-Veolan. Rose also warned him against thedanger of returning thither, and at the same time sent her complimentsto Fergus and Flora. The last words in the letter were, "_Is she not ashandsome and accomplished as I described her to be?_" Edward was exceedingly perplexed. Knowing his innocence of all treason, he could not imagine why he should be accused of it. He consultedFergus, who told him he would to a certainty be hanged or imprisoned ifhe went south. Nevertheless, Edward persisted in "running his hazard. "The Chief, though wishful to keep him, did not absolutely say him nay. Flora, instead of coming down to bid him good-bye, sent only excuses. Soaltogether it was in no happy frame of mind that Edward rode away to thesouth upon the Chief's horse, Brown Dermid, and with Callum Beg for anattendant in the guise of a Lowland groom. Callum warned his master against saying anything when they got to thefirst little Lowland town, either on the subject of the Highlands, orabout his master, Vich Ian Vohr. "The people there are bitter Whigs, teil burst them!" he said fiercely. As they rode on they saw many people about the street, chiefly old womenin tartan hoods and red cloaks, who seemed to cast up their hands inhorror at the sight of Waverley's horse. Edward asked the reason. "Oh, " said Callum Beg, "it's either the muckle Sunday hersel', or thelittle government Sunday that they caa the Fast!" It proved to be the latter, and the innkeeper, a severe sly-looking man, received them with scanty welcome. Indeed, he only admitted them becausehe remembered that it was in his power to fine them for the crime oftravelling on a Fast Day by an addition to the length of his reckoningnext morning. But as soon as Edward announced his wish for a horse and guide to Perth, the hypocritical landlord made ready to go with him in person. CallumBeg, excited by the golden guinea which Waverley gave him, offered toshow his gratitude by waiting a little distance along the road, and"kittlin' the landlord's quarters wi' her skene-occle"--or, in otherwords, setting a dagger in his back. Apparently Vich Ian Vohr's pagethought no more of such a deed than an ordinary English boy would havethought of stealing an apple out of an orchard. THE THIRD INTERLUDE--BEING MAINLY A FEW WORDS UPON HEROES Among the listeners there was somewhat less inclination than before to act this part of the story. For one thing, the boys were righteously indignant at the idea of any true hero being in love--unless, indeed, he could carry off his bride from the deck of a pirate vessel, cutlass in hand, and noble words of daring on his lips. As for the girls, well--they knew that the bushes were dripping wet, and that if they set their feet upon their native heath, they would certainly be made to change their stockings as soon as they went home. This was a severe discourager of romance. There was nothing to prevent any one of them from asking questions, however. _That_ was a business in which they excelled. "But why did the Highland people want to rebel, anyway?" demanded Hugh John. "If I could have hunted like that, and raided, and carried off cattle, and had a castle with pipes playing and hundreds of clansmen to drill, I shouldn't have been such a soft as to rebel and get them all taken away from me!" "It was because they were loyal to their rightful King, " said Sweetheart, who is a Cavalier and a Jacobite--in the intervals of admiring Cromwell, and crying because they shot down the poor Covenanters. "_I_ think, " said Sir Toady, who had been sitting very thoughtful, "that they just liked to fight, and King George would not let them. So they wanted a king who would not mind. Same as us, you know. If we are caught fighting in school, we get whipped, but father lets us fight outside as much as we want to. Besides, what did old Vich Ian Vohr want with all these silly Highlanders, eating up everything in his castle, if there were never any battles that they could fight for him?" This was certainly a very strong and practical view, and so much impressed the others that they sat a long while quiet, turning it over in their minds. "Well, at any rate, " said Sweetheart, dropping her head with a sigh to go on with her seam, "I know that Flora Mac-Ivor was truly patriotic. See how she refused to listen to Waverley, all because she wanted to give her life for the cause. " "Humph, " said Hugh John, disrespectfully turning up his nose, "that's all girls think about--loving, an' marrying, an' playing on harps--" "I don't play on harps, " sighed Sweetheart, "but I do wish I had a banjo!" "I wish I had a targe and a broadsword, and the Chief's horse, Brown Dermid, to ride on, " said Hugh John, putting on his "biggety" look. "And a nice figure you would cut, " sneered Sir Toady Lion, provokingly; "Highlanders don't fight on horseback! You ought to know that!" Whereupon the first engagement of the campaign was immediately fought out on the carpet. And it was not till after the intervention of the Superior Power had restored quiet that the next tale from _Waverley_ could be proceeded with. THE FOURTH TALE FROM "WAVERLEY" HERE AND THERE AMONG THE HEATHER NOT long after Callum Beg had been left behind, and indeed almost assoon as the innkeeper and Edward were fairly on their way, the formersuddenly announced that his horse had fallen lame and that they mustturn aside to a neighbouring smithy to have the matter attended to. "And as it is the Fast Day, and the smith a religious man, it may costyour Honour as muckle as sixpence a shoe!" suggested the wily innkeeper, watching Edward's face as he spoke. For this announcement Edward cared nothing. He would gladly have paid ashilling a nail to be allowed to push forward on his journey with allspeed. Accordingly to the smithy of Cairnvreckan they went. The villagewas in an uproar. The smith, a fierce-looking man, was busy hammering"dogs' heads" for musket-locks, while among the surrounding crowd thenames of great Highland chiefs--Clanronald, Glengarry, Lochiel, and thatof Vich Ian Vohr himself, were being bandied from mouth to mouth. Edward soon found himself surrounded by an excited mob, in the midst ofwhich the smith's wife, a wild witchlike woman, was dancing, every nowand then casting her child up in the air as high as her arms wouldreach, singing all the while, and trying to anger the crowd, andespecially to infuriate her husband, by the Jacobite songs which shechanted. At last the smith could stand this provocation no longer. He snatched ared-hot bar of iron from the forge, and rushed at his wife, crying outthat he would "thrust it down her throat. " Then, finding himself heldback by the crowd from executing vengeance on the woman, all his angerturned upon Edward, whom he took to be a Jacobite emissary. For the newswhich had caused all this stir was that Prince Charles had landed andthat the whole Highlands was rallying to his banner. So fierce and determined was the attack which the angry smith ofCairnvreckan made on Edward that the young man was compelled to draw hispistol in self-defence. And as the crowd threatened him and the smithcontinued furiously to attack with the red-hot iron, almostunconsciously his finger pressed the trigger. The shot went off, andimmediately the smith fell to the ground. Then Edward, borne down by themob, was for some time in great danger of his life. He was saved at lastby the interference of the minister of the parish, a kind and gentle oldman, who caused Edward's captors to treat him more tenderly. So thatinstead of executing vengeance upon the spot as they had proposed, theybrought him before the nearest magistrate, who was, indeed, an oldmilitary officer, and, in addition, the Laird of the village ofCairnvreckan, one Major Melville by name. [Illustration: "SO fierce and determined was the attack which the angrysmith of Cairnvreckan made on Edward that the young man was compelled todraw his pistol in self-defence. "] The latter proved to be a stern soldier, so severe in manner that heoften became unintentionally unjust. Major Melville found that thoughthe blacksmith's wound proved to be a mere scratch, and though he had toown that the provocation given was a sufficient excuse for Edward'shasty action, yet he must detain the young man prisoner upon the warrantissued against Edward Waverley, which had been sent out by the SupremeCourt of Scotland. Edward, who at once owned to his name, was astonished beyond words tofind that not only was he charged with being in the company of actualrebels, such as the Baron of Bradwardine and Vich Ian Vohr, but alsowith trying to induce his troop of horse to revolt by means of privateletters addressed to one of them, Sergeant Houghton, in their barracksat Dundee. Captain Waverley was asserted to have effected this throughthe medium of a pedlar named Will Ruthven, or Wily Will--whose very nameEdward had never heard up to that moment. As the magistrate's examination proceeded, Waverley was astonished tofind that, instead of clearing himself, everything he said, everyarticle he carried about his person, was set down by Major Melville asan additional proof of his complicity with treason. Among these figuredFlora's verses, his own presence at the great hunting match among themountains, his father's and Sir Everard's letters, even the hugemanuscripts written by his tutor (of which he had never read sixpages)--all were brought forward as so many evidences of his guilt. Finally, the magistrate informed Edward that he would be compelled todetain him a prisoner in his house of Cairnvreckan. But that if he wouldfurnish such information as it was doubtless in his power to giveconcerning the forces and plans of Vich Ian Vohr and the other Highlandchiefs, he might, after a brief detention, be allowed to go free. Edwardfiercely exclaimed that he would die rather than turn informer againstthose who had been his friends and hosts. Whereupon, having refused allhospitality, he was conducted to a small room, there to be guarded tillthere was a chance of sending him under escort to the Castle ofStirling. Here he was visited by Mr. Morton, the minister who had saved him fromthe clutches of the mob, and so sympathetically and kindly did he speak, that Edward told him his whole story from the moment when he had firstleft Waverley-Honour. And though the minister's favourable report didnot alter the opinion Major Melville had formed of Edward's treason, itsoftened his feelings toward the young man so much that he invited himto dinner, and afterwards did his best to procure him favourabletreatment from the Westland Whig captain, Mr. Gifted Gilfillan, whocommanded the party which was to convoy him to Stirling Castle. The escort which was to take Edward southward was not so strong as itmight have been. Part of Captain Gifted Gilfillan's command had stayedbehind to hear a favourite preacher upon the occasion of the afternoonFast Day service at Cairnvreckan. Others straggled for purposes of theirown, while as they went along, their leader lectured Edward upon thefewness of those that should be saved. Heaven, he informed Edward, wouldbe peopled exclusively by the members of his own denomination. CaptainGifted was still engaged in condemning all and sundry belonging to theChurches of England and Scotland, when a stray pedlar joined his partyand asked of "his Honour" the favour of his protection as far asStirling, urging as a reason the uncertainty of the times and the valueof the property he carried in his pack. The pedlar, by agreeing with all that was said, and desiring furtherinformation upon spiritual matters, soon took the attention of CaptainGifted Gilfillan from his prisoner. He declared that he had evenvisited, near Mauchline, the very farm of the Whig leader. Hecongratulated him upon the fine breed of cattle he possessed. Then hewent on to speak of the many evil, popish, and unchristian things he hadseen in his travels as a pedlar over the benighted countries of Europe. Whereupon Gifted Gilfillan became so pleased with his companion and soenraptured with his subject, that he allowed his party to string itselfout along the route without an attempt at discipline, or even the powerof supporting each other in case of attack. The leaders were ascending a little hill covered with whin bushes andcrowned with low brushwood, when, after looking about him quickly tonote some landmarks, the pedlar put his fingers to his mouth andwhistled. He explained that he was whistling on a favourite dog, namedBawty, which he had lost. The Covenanter reproved him severely forthinking of a useless dog in the midst of such precious and improvingconversation as they were holding together. But in spite of his protests the pedlar persisted in his whistling, andpresently, out of a copse close to the path, six or eight stoutHighlanders sprang upon them brandishing their claymores. "The Sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" shouted Gifted Gilfillan, nothingdaunted. And he was proceeding to lay about him stoutly, when thepedlar, snatching a musket, felled him to the ground with the butt. Thescattered Whig party hurried up to support their leader. In the scuffle, Edward's horse was shot, and he himself somewhat bruised in falling. Whereupon some of the Highlanders took him by the arms, andhalf-supported, half-carried him away from the highroad, leaving theunconscious Gifted still stretched on the ground. The Westlanders, thusdeprived of a leader, did not even attempt a pursuit, but contentedthemselves with sending a few dropping shots after the Highlanders, which, of course, did nobody any harm. They carried Edward fully two miles, and it was not till they reachedthe deep covert of a distant glen that they stopped with their burden. Edward spoke to them repeatedly, but the only answer he got was thatthey "had no English. " Even the mention of the name of Vich Ian Vohr, which he had hitherto regarded as a talisman, produced no response. Moreover, Edward could see from the tartans of his captors that theywere not of the Clan Ivor. Nor did the hut, into which they presentlyconveyed our hero, reveal any more. Edward was placed in a large bed, planked all round, and after his bruises were attended to by an oldwoman, the sliding panel was shut upon him. A kind of fever set hisideas wandering, and sometimes he fancied that he heard the voice ofFlora Mac-Ivor speaking in the hut without. He tried to push back thepanel, but the inmates had secured it on the outside with a large nail. Waverley remained some time in these narrow quarters, ministered to bythe old woman and at intervals hearing the same gentle girlish voicespeaking outside, without, however, ever being able to see its owner. Atlast, after several days, two of the Highlanders who had first capturedhim returned, and by signs informed him that he must get ready to followthem immediately. At this news Edward, thoroughly tired of his confinement, rejoiced, and, upon rising, found himself sufficiently well to travel. He was seated inthe smoky cottage quietly waiting the signal for departure, when he felta touch on his arm, and, turning, he found himself face to face withAlice, the daughter of Donald Bean Lean. With a quick movement sheshowed him the edges of a bundle of papers which she as swiftlyconcealed. She then laid her finger on her lips, and glided away toassist old Janet, his nurse, in packing his saddle-bags. With the tailof his eye, however, Edward saw the girl fold the papers among his linenwithout being observed by the others. This being done, she took nofurther notice of him whatever, except that just at the last, as she wasleaving the cottage, she turned round and gave him a smile and nod offarewell. The tall Highlander who was to lead the party now made Edward understandthat there was considerable danger on the way. He must follow withoutnoise, and do exactly as he was bidden. A steel pistol and a broadswordwere given him for use in case of attack. The party had not been longupon its night journeying, moving silently along through the woods andcopses in Indian file, before Edward found that there was good reasonfor this precaution. At no great distance he heard the cry of an English sentinel, "All'swell!" Again and again the cry was taken up by other sentries till thesound was lost in the distance. The enemy was very near, but the trainedsenses of the Highlanders in their own rugged country were more than amatch for the discipline of the regulars. A little farther on they passed a large building, with lights stilltwinkling in the windows. Presently the tall Highlander stood up andsniffed. Then motioning Waverley to do as he did, he began to crawl onall fours toward a low and ruinous sheep-fold. With some difficultyEdward obeyed, and with so much care was the stalk conducted, thatpresently, looking over a stone wall, he could see an outpost of five orsix soldiers lying round their camp-fire, while in front a sentinelpaced backward and forward, regarding the heavens and whistling _NancyDawson_ as placidly as if he were a hundred miles from any wild rebelHighlandmen. At that moment the moon, which up to this time had been hidden behindclouds, shone out clear and bright. So Edward and his Highland guide hadperforce to remain where they were, stuck up against the dike, notdaring to continue their journey in the full glare of light, while theHighlander muttered curses on "MacFarlane's lanthorn, " as he called themoon. At last the Highlander, motioning Edward to stay where he was, beganwith infinite pains to worm his way backward on all fours, takingadvantage of every bit of cover, lying stock-still behind a boulderwhile the sentry was looking in his direction, and again crawlingswiftly to a more distant bush as often as he turned his back or marchedthe other way. Presently Edward lost sight of the Highlander, but beforelong he came out again at an altogether different part of the thicket, in full view of the sentinel, at whom he immediately fired a shot--thebullet wounding the soldier on the arm, stopping once and for all thewhistling of _Nancy Dawson_. Then all the soldiers, awakened by the shot and their comrade's cry, advanced alertly toward the spot where the tall man had been seen. Hehad, however, retired, but continued to give them occasionally such aview of his figure in the open moonlight, as to lead them yet fartherfrom the path. Meanwhile, taking advantage of their leader's ruse, Waverley and hisattendants made good speed over the heather till they got behind arising ground, from which, however, they could still hear the shouts ofthe pursuers, and the more distant roll of the royal drums beating toarms. They had not gone far before they came upon an encampment in ahollow. Here several Highlanders, with a horse or two, lay concealed. They had not arrived very long before the tall Highlander, who had ledthe soldiers such a dance, made his appearance quite out of breath, butlaughing gayly at the ease with which he had tricked his pursuers. Edward was now mounted on a stout pony, and the whole party set forwardat a good round pace, accompanied by the Highlanders as an escort. Theycontinued without molestation all the night, till, in the morning light, they saw a tall old castle on the opposite bank of the river, upon thebattlements of which they could see the plaid and targe of a Highlandsentry, and over which floated the white banner of the exiled Stuarts. They passed through a small town, and presently were admitted into thecourtyard of the ancient fortress, where Edward was courteouslyreceived by a chief in full dress and wearing a white cockade. He showedWaverley directly to a half-ruinous apartment where, however, there wasa small camp bed. Here he was about to leave him, after asking him whatrefreshment he would take, when Edward, who had had enough of mysteries, requested that he might be told where he was. "You are in the castle of Doune, in the district of Menteith, " said thegovernor of the castle, "and you are in no danger whatever. I commandhere for his Royal Highness Prince Charles. " At last it seemed to Waverley as if he had reached a place of rest andsafety. But it was not to be. On the very next day he was put in chargeof a detachment of irregular horsemen who were making their way eastwardto join the forces of the Prince. The leader of this band was no otherthan the Laird of Balmawhapple, who, backing words by deeds, hadmustered his grooms and huntsmen in the cause of the Stuarts. Edwardattempted to speak civilly to him, but found himself brutally repulsed. Captain Falconer of Balmawhapple had noways forgotten the shrewd pinchin the sword-arm which he had received from the Baron of Bradwardine inWaverley's quarrel. At first Edward had better luck with his Lieutenant, a certainhorse-coper or dealer. This man had sold Balmawhapple the chargers uponwhich to mount his motley array, and seeing no chance of getting hismoney except by "going out" himself, he had accepted the post ofLieutenant in the Chevalier's army. So far good. But just at the momentwhen it seemed that our hero was about to get some information of auseful sort, Balmawhapple rode up, and demanded of his Lieutenant if hehad not heard his orders that no one should speak to the prisoner. After that they marched in silence, till, as the little company ofadventurers was passing Stirling Castle, Balmawhapple must needs soundhis trumpet and display his white banner. This bravado, considerably tothat gentleman's discomfiture, was answered at once by a burst of smokefrom the Castle, and the next moment a cannon-ball knocked up the eartha few feet from the Captain's charger, and covered Balmawhapple himselfwith dirt and stones. An immediate retreat of the command took placewithout having been specially ordered. As they approached Edinburgh, they could see that white wreaths of smokecircled the Castle. The cannonade rolled continuously. Balmawhapple, however, warned by what had happened at Stirling, gave the Castle a wideberth, and finally, without having entered the city, he delivered uphis prisoner at the door of the ancient palace of Holyrood. And so, for the time being, Edward's adventures in the wild Highlandswere ended. INTERLUDE OF STICKING-PLASTER This time the children were frankly delighted. "It's just like _Kidnapped_, father, " cried Hugh John, more truly than he dreamed of, "there's the Flight through the Heather, you remember, and the tall man is Allan Breck, heading off the soldiers after the Red Fox was shot. There was a sentinel that whistled, too--Allan heard him when he was fishing, and learned the tune--oh, and a lot of things the same!" "I like the part best where Alice Bean gives him the papers, " said Sweetheart; "perhaps she was in love with him, too. " "Pshaw!" cried Toady Lion; "much good that did him. He never even got them looked at. But it was a pity that he did not get a chance at a King George soldier with that lovely sword and steel pistol. The Highlanders had all the luck. " "I would have banged it off anyway, " declared Hugh John; "fancy carrying a pistol like that all the way, scouting and going Indian file, and never getting a shot at anybody!" "What I want to know, " said Sweetheart, dreamily, "is why they all thought Edward a traitor. I believe the papers that Alice Bean Lean put in his bag would reveal the secret, if Waverley only had time to read them. " "Him, " said Sir Toady, naturally suspicious of all girls' heroes, "why, he's always falling down and getting put to bed. Then somebody has to nurse him. Why doesn't he go out and fight, like Fergus Mac-Ivor? Then perhaps Flora would have him; though what he wanted her for--a girl--I don't know. She could only play harps and--make poetry. " So with this bitter scorn for the liberal arts, they all rushed off to enact the whole story, the tale-teller consenting, as occasion required, to take the parts of the wounded smith, the stern judge, or the Cameronian Captain. Hugh John hectored insufferably as Waverley. Sir Toady scouted and stalked as the tall Highlander, whom he refused to regard as anybody but Allan Breck. Sweetheart moved gently about as Alice Bean--preparing breakfast was quite in her line--while Maid Margaret, wildly excited, ran hither and thither as a sort of impartial chorus, warning all and sundry of the movements of the enemy. I saw her last, seated on a knoll and calling out "Bang" at the pitch of her voice. She was, she explained, nothing less imposing than the castle of Edinburgh itself, cannonading the ranks of the Pretender. While far away, upon wooden chargers, Balmawhapple's cavalry curvetted on the slopes of Arthur's Seat and cracked vain pistols at the frowning fortress. There was, in fact, all through the afternoon, a great deal of imagination loose in our neighbourhood. And even far into the gloaming sounds of battle, boastful recriminations, the clash of swords, the trample and rally of the heavy charge, even the cries of the genuinely wounded, came fitfully from this corner and that of the wide shrubberies. And when all was over, as they sat reunited, Black Hanoverian and White Cockade, victor and vanquished, in the kindly truce of the supper-table, Hugh John delivered his verdict. "That's the best tale you have told us yet. Every man of us needed to have sticking-plaster put on when we came in--even Sweetheart!" Than which, of course, nothing _could_ have been more satisfactory. THE FIFTH TALE FROM "WAVERLEY" THE WHITE COCKADE IT was Fergus Mac-Ivor himself who welcomed Edward within the palace ofHolyrood, where the adventurous Prince now kept his court. Hardly would he allow Edward even to ask news of Flora, before carryinghim off into the presence-chamber to be presented. Edward was deeplymoved by the Chevalier's grace and dignity, as well as moved by thereception he received. The Prince praised the deeds of his ancestors, and called upon him to emulate them. He also showed him a proclamationin which his name was mentioned along with those of the other rebels asguilty of high treason. Edward's heart was melted. This princelykindness, so different from the treatment which he had received at thehands of the English government, the direct appeal of the handsome andgallant young Chevalier, perhaps also the thought of pleasing Flora inthe only way open to him, all overwhelmed the young man, so that, with asudden burst of resolve, he knelt down and devoted his life and hissword to the cause of King James. The Prince raised and embraced Waverley, and in a few words confided tohim that the English general, having declined battle and gone north toAberdeen, had brought his forces back to Dunbar by sea. Here it was thePrince's instant intention to attack him. Before taking leave he presented Edward with the splendid silver-hiltedsword which he wore, itself an heirloom of the Stuarts. Then he gave himover into the hands of Fergus Mac-Ivor, who forthwith proceeded to makeWaverley into a true son of Ivor by arraying him in the tartan of theclan, with plaid floating over his shoulder and buckler glancing uponhis arm. Soon after came the Baron of Bradwardine, anxious about the honour ofhis young friend Edward. He said that he desired to know the truth asto the manner in which Captain Waverley had lost his commission inColonel Gardiner's dragoons, --so that, if he should hear his honourcalled in question, he might be able to defend it, --which, no doubt, hewould have performed as stoutly and loyally as he had previously doneupon the sulky person of the Laird of Balmawhapple. The morrow was to be a day of battle. But it was quite in keeping withthe gay character of the adventurer-prince, that the evening should bespent in a hall in the ancient palace of Holyrood. Here Edward, in hisnew full dress as a Highlander and a son of Ivor, shone as thehandsomest and the boldest of all. And this, too, in spite of the markedcoldness with which Flora treated him. But to make amends, RoseBradwardine, close by her friend's side, watched him with a sigh on herlip, and colour on her cheek--yet with a sort of pride, too, that sheshould have been the first to discover what a gallant and soldierlyyouth he was. Jacobite or Hanoverian, she cared not. At Tully-Veolan orat a court ball, she was equally proud of Edward Waverley. Next morning our hero was awakened by the screaming of the warpipesoutside his bedroom, and Callum Beg, his attendant, informed him thathe would have to hurry if he wished to come up with Fergus and the ClanIvor, who had marched out with the Prince when the morning was yet grey. Thus spurred, Edward proved himself no laggard. On they went, threadingtheir way through the ranks of the Highland army, now getting mixed upwith Balmawhapple's horsemen, who, careless of discipline, went spurringthrough the throng amid the curses of the Highlanders. For the firsttime Edward saw with astonishment that more than half the clansmen werepoorly armed, many with only a scythe on a pole or a sword without ascabbard, while some for a weapon had nothing better than their dirks, or even a stake pulled out of the hedge. Then it was that Edward, whohitherto had only seen the finest and best armed men whom Fergus couldplace in the field, began to harbour doubts as to whether thisunmilitary array could defeat a British army, and win the crown of threekingdoms for the young Prince with whom he had rashly cast in his lot. [Illustration: "ROSE BRADWARDINE, close by her friend's side, watchedhim with a sigh on her lip, and colour on her cheek--yet with a sort ofpride, too, that she should have been the first to discover what agallant and soldierly youth he was. "] But his dismal and foreboding thoughts were quickly changed to pridewhen whole Clan Ivor received him with a unanimous shout and the brayingof their many warpipes. "Why, " said one of a neighbouring clan, "you greet the young Sassenachas if he were the Chief himself!" "If he be not Bran, he is Bran's brother!" replied Evan Dhu, who was nowvery grand under the name of Ensign Maccombich. "Oh, then, " replied the other, "that will doubtless be the young Englishduinhé-wassel who is to be married to the Lady Flora?" "That may be or that may not be, " retorted Evan, grimly; "it is nomatter of yours or mine, Gregor. " The march continued--first by the shore toward Musselburgh and thenalong the top of a little hill which looked out seaward. While marchingthus, news came that Bradwardine's horse had had a skirmish with theenemy, and had sent in some prisoners. Almost at the same moment from a sort of stone shed (called a sheepsmearing-house) Edward heard a voice which, as if in agony, tried torepeat snatches of the Lord's Prayer. He stopped. It seemed as if heknew that voice. He entered, and found in the corner a wounded man lying very near todeath. It was no other than Houghton, the sergeant of his own troop, towhom he had written to send him the books. At first he did not recogniseEdward in his Highland dress. But as soon as he was assured that itreally was his master who stood beside him, he moaned out, "Oh, why didyou leave us, Squire?" Then in broken accents he told how a certainpedlar called Ruffin had shown them letters from Edward, advising themto rise in mutiny. "Ruffin!" said Edward, "I know nothing of any such man. You have beenvilely imposed upon, Houghton. " "Indeed, " said the dying man, "I often thought so since. And we did notbelieve till he showed us your very seal. So Tims was shot, and I wasreduced to the ranks. " Not long after uttering these words, poor Houghton breathed his last, praying his young master to be kind to his old father and mother atWaverley-Honour, and not to fight with these wild petticoat men againstold England. The words cut Edward to the heart, but there was no time for sentimentor regret. The army of the Prince was fast approaching the foe. TheEnglish regiments came marching out to meet them along the open shore, while the Highlanders took their station on the higher ground to thesouth. But a morass separated the combatants, and though severalskirmishes took place on the flanks, the main fighting had to be put offtill another day. That night both sides slept on their arms, Fergus andWaverley joining their plaids to make a couch, on which they lay, withCallum Beg watching at their heads. Before three, they were summoned to the presence of the Prince. Theyfound him giving his final directions to the chiefs. A guide had beenfound who would guide the army across the morass. They would then turnthe enemy's flank, and after that the Highland yell and the Highlandclaymore must do the rest. The mist of the morning was still rolling thick through the hollowbetween the armies when Clan Ivor got the word to charge. Prestonpanswas no midnight surprise. The English army, regularly ranked, stoodready, waiting. But their cavalry, suddenly giving way, provedthemselves quite unable to withstand the furious onslaught of theHighlanders. Edward charged with the others, and was soon in thethickest of the fray. It happened that while fighting on the battleline, he was able to save the life of a distinguished English officer, who, with the hilt of his broken sword yet in his hand, stood by theartillery from which the gunners had run away, disdaining flight andwaiting for death. The victory of the Highlanders was complete. Edwardeven saw his old commander, Colonel Gardiner, struck down, yet waspowerless to save him. But long after, the reproach in the eyes of thedying soldier haunted him. Yet it expressed more sorrow thananger--sorrow to see him in such a place and in such a dress. But this was soon forgotten when the prisoner he had taken, and whom thepolicy of the Prince committed to his care and custody, declared himselfas none other than Colonel Talbot, his uncle's dearest and most intimatefriend. He informed Waverley that on his return from abroad he had foundboth Sir Everard and his brother in custody on account of Edward'sreported treason. He had, therefore, immediately started for Scotland toendeavour to bring back the truant. He had seen Colonel Gardiner, andhad found him, after having made a less hasty inquiry into the mutinyof Edward's troop, much softened toward the young man. All would havecome right, concluded Colonel Talbot, had it not been for our hero'sjoining openly with the rebels in their mad venture. Edward was smitten to the heart when he heard of his uncle's sufferings, believing that they were on his account. But he was somewhat comfortedwhen Colonel Talbot told him that through his influence Sir Everard hadbeen allowed out under heavy bail, and that Mr. Richard Waverley waswith him at Waverley-Honour. Yet more torn with remorse was Edward when, having once more arrived inEdinburgh, he found at last the leather valise which contained thepacket of letters Alice Bean Lean had placed among his linen. From thesehe learned that Colonel Gardiner had thrice written to him, once indeedsending the letter by one of the men of Edward's own troop, who had beeninstructed by the pedlar to go back and tell the Colonel that hisofficer had received them in person. Instead of being delivered toWaverley, the letters had been given to a certain Mr. William Ruffin, orRiven, or Ruthven, whom Waverley saw at once could be none other thanDonald Bean Lean himself. Then all at once remembering the business ofthe robber cave, he understood the loss of his seal, and poor Houghton'sdying reproach that he should not have left the lads of his troop solong by themselves. Edward now saw clearly how in a moment of weakness he had made a greatand fatal mistake by joining with the Jacobites. But his sense of honourwas such that in spite of all Colonel Talbot could say, he would not goback on his word. His own hastiness, the clever wiles of FergusMac-Ivor, Flora's beauty, and most of all the rascality of Donald BeanLean had indeed brought his neck, as old Major Melville had prophesied, within the compass of the hangman's rope. The best Edward could now do was to send a young soldier of his troop, who had been taken at Prestonpans, to his uncle and his father withletters explaining all the circumstances. By Colonel Talbot's advice andhelp this messenger was sent aboard one of the English vessels cruisingin the Firth, well furnished with passes which would carry him in safetyall the way to Waverley-Honour. Still the days went by, and nothing was done. Still the Prince halted inEdinburgh waiting for reinforcements which never came. He was alwayshopeful that more clans would declare for him or that other forces wouldbe raised in the Lowlands or in England. And meanwhile, chiefly becausein the city there was nothing for them to do, plans and plots were beingformed. Quarrellings and jealousies became the order of the day amongthe troops of the White Cockade. One morning Fergus Mac-Ivor came in toEdward's lodgings, furious with anger because the Prince had refused himtwo requests, --one, to make good his right to be an Earl, and the other, to give his consent to his marriage with Rose Bradwardine. Fergus mustwait for the first, the Prince had told him, because that would offend achief of his own name and of greater power, who was still hesitatingwhether or not to declare for King James. As for Rose Bradwardine, neither must he think of her. Her affections were already engaged. ThePrince knew this privately, and, indeed, had promised already to favourthe match upon which her heart was set. As for Edward himself, he began about this time to think less and lessof the cruelty of Flora Mac-Ivor. He could not have the moon, that wasclear--and he was not a child to go on crying for it. It was evident, also, that Rose Bradwardine liked him, and her marked favour, and herdesire to be with him, had their effect upon a heart still sore fromFlora's repeated and haughty rejections. One of the last things Edward was able to do in Edinburgh, was to obtainfrom the Prince the release of Colonel Talbot, whom he saw safely on hisway to London from the port of Leith. After that it was with actualrelief that Edward found the period of waiting in Edinburgh at last atan end, and the Prince's army to the number of six thousand men marchingsouthward into England. All was now to be hazarded on the success of abold push for London. The Highlanders easily escaped a superior army encamped on the borders. They attacked and took Carlisle on their way, and at first it seemed asif they had a clear path to the capital before them. Fergus, who marchedwith his clan in the van of the Prince's army, never questioned theirsuccess for a moment. But Edward's clearer eye and greater knowledge ofthe odds made no such mistake. He saw that few joined them, and those men of no great weight, while allthe time the forces of King George were daily increasing. Difficultiesof every kind arose about them the farther they marched from theirnative land. Added to which there were quarrels and dissensions amongthe Prince's followers, those between his Irish officers and suchHighland chiefs as Fergus being especially bitter. Even to Edward, Fergus became fierce and sullen, quite unlike his formergay and confident self. It was about Flora that the quarrel, longsmouldering, finally broke into flame. As they passed this and thatcountry-seat, Fergus would always ask if the house were as large asWaverley-Honour, and whether the estate or the deer park were of equalsize. Edward had usually to reply that they were not nearly so great. Whereupon Fergus would remark that in that case Flora would be a happywoman. "But, " said Waverley, who tired of the implied obligation, "you forgetMiss Flora has refused me, not once, but many times. I am thereforereluctantly compelled to resign all claims upon her hand. " At this, Fergus thought fit to take offence, saying that having oncemade application for Flora's hand, Waverley had no right to withdrawfrom his offer without the consent of her guardian. Edward replied thatso far as he was concerned, the matter was at an end. He would neverpress himself upon any lady who had repeatedly refused him. Whereupon, Fergus turned away furiously, and the quarrel was made. Edward betook himself to the camp of his old friend, the Baron, and, ashe remembered the instruction he had received in the dragoons, he becameeasily a leader and a great favourite among the Lowland cavalry whichfollowed the old soldier Bradwardine. But he had left seeds of bitter anger behind him in the camp of theproud clan he had quitted. Some of the Lowland officers warned him of his danger, and Evan Dhu, theChief's foster-brother--who, ever since the visit to the cave had takena liking to Edward--waited for him secretly in a shady place and badehim beware. The truth was that the Clan Mac-Ivor had taken it into theirheads that Edward had somehow slighted their Lady Flora. They saw thatthe Chief's brow was dark against Edward, and therefore he became all atonce fair game for a bullet or a stab in the dark. And the first of these was not long in arriving. * * * * * And here (I concluded) is the end of the fifth tale. "Go on--oh--go on!" shouted all the four listeners in chorus; "we don't want to play or to talk, just now. We want to know what happened. " "Very well, then, " said I, "then the next story shall be called 'Black Looks and Bright Swords. '" Carrying out which resolve we proceeded at once to the telling of THE SIXTH TALE FROM "WAVERLEY" BLACK LOOKS AND BRIGHT SWORDS IT was in the dusk of an avenue that Evan Dhu had warned Waverley tobeware, and ere he had reached the end of the long double line of trees, a pistol cracked in the covert, and a bullet whistled close past hisear. "There he is, " cried Edward's attendant, a stout Merseman of theBaron's troop; "it's that devil's brat, Callum Beg. " And Edward, looking through the trees, could make out a figure runninghastily in the direction of the camp of the Mac-Ivors. Instantly Waverley turned his horse, and rode straight up to Fergus. "Colonel Mac-Ivor, " he said, without any attempt at salutation, "I haveto inform you that one of your followers has just attempted to murder meby firing upon me from a lurking-place. " "Indeed!" said the Chief, haughtily; "well, as that, save in the matterof the lurking-place, is a pleasure I presently propose for myself, Ishould be glad to know which of my clansmen has dared to anticipate me. " "I am at your service when you will, sir, " said Edward, with equalpride, "but in the meantime the culprit was your page, Callum Beg. " "Stand forth, Callum Beg, " cried Vich Ian Vohr; "did you fire at Mr. Waverley?" "No, " said the unblushing Callum. "You did, " broke in Edward's attendant, "I saw you as plain as ever Isaw Coudingham kirk!" "You lie!" returned Callum, not at all put out by the accusation. Buthis Chief demanded Callum's pistol. The hammer was down. The pan andmuzzle were black with smoke, the barrel yet warm. It had that momentbeen fired. "Take that!" cried the Chief, striking the boy full on the head with themetal butt; "take that, for daring to act without orders and then lyingto disguise it. " Callum made not the slightest attempt to escape the blow, and fell as ifhe had been slain on the spot. "And now, Mr. Waverley, " said the Chief, "be good enough to turn yourhorse twenty yards with me out upon the common. I have a word to say toyou. " Edward did so, and as soon as they were alone, Fergus fiercely chargedhim with having thrown aside his sister Flora in order to pay his courtto Rose Bradwardine, whom, as he knew, Fergus had chosen for his ownbride. "It was the Prince--the Prince himself who told me!" added Fergus, noticing the astonishment on Edward's face. "Did the Prince tell you that I was engaged to Miss Rose Bradwardine?"cried Edward. "He did--this very morning, " shouted Fergus; "he gave it as a reason fora second time refusing my request. So draw and defend yourself, orresign once and forever all claims to the lady. " "In such a matter I will not be dictated to by you or any man living!"retorted Waverley, growing angry in his turn. In a moment swords were out and a fierce combat was beginning, when anumber of Bradwardine's cavalry, who being Lowlanders were always atfeud with the Highlandmen, rode hastily up, calling on their companionsto follow. They had heard that there was a chance of a fight betweentheir corps and the Highlanders. Nothing would have pleased thembetter. The Baron himself threatened that unless the Mac-Ivors returnedto their ranks, he would charge them, while they on their side pointedtheir guns at him and his Lowland cavalry. A cry that the Prince was approaching alone prevented bloodshed. TheHighlanders returned to their places. The cavalry dressed its ranks. Itwas indeed the Chevalier who arrived. His first act was to get one ofhis French officers, the Count of Beaujeu, to set the regiment ofMac-Ivors and the Lowland cavalry again upon the road. He knew that theCount's broken English would put them all in better humour, while hehimself remained to make the peace between Fergus and Waverley. Outwardly the quarrel was soon made up. Edward explained that he had noclaims whatever to be considered as engaged to Rose Bradwardine or anyone else, while Fergus sulkily agreed that it was possible he had made amistake. The Prince made them shake hands, which they did with the airof two dogs whom only the presence of the master kept from flying ateach other's throats. Then after calming the Clan Mac-Ivor and ridingawhile with the Baron's Lowland cavalry, the Prince returned to theCount of Beaujeu, saying with a sigh, as he reined his charger besidehim, "Ah, my friend, believe me this business of prince-errant is no bedof roses!" * * * * * It was not long before the poor Prince had a further proof of this fact. On the 5th of December, after a council at Derby, the Highland chiefs, disappointed that the country did not rally about them, and that thegovernment forces were steadily increasing on all sides, compelled thePrince to fall back toward Scotland. Fergus Mac-Ivor fiercely led theopposition to any retreat. He would win the throne for his Prince, or ifhe could not, then he and every son of Ivor would lay down their lives. That was his clear and simple plan of campaign. But he was easilyoverborne by numbers, and when he found himself defeated in council, heshed actual tears of grief and mortification. From that moment Vich IanVohr was an altered man. Since the day of the quarrel Edward had seen nothing of him. It was, therefore, with great surprise that he saw Fergus one evening enter hislodgings and invite him to take a walk with him. The Chieftain smiledsadly as he saw his old friend take down his sword and buckle it on. There was a great change in the appearance of Vich Ian Vohr. His cheekwas hollow. His eye burned as if with fever. As soon as the two young men had reached a beautiful and solitary glen, Fergus began to tell Edward that he had found out how wrongheaded andrash he had been in the matter of their quarrel. "Flora writes me, "continued Fergus, "that she never had, and never could have, the leastintention of giving you any encouragement. I acted hastily--like amadman!" Waverley hastily entreated him to let all be forgotten, and the twocomrades-in-arms shook hands, this time heartily and sincerely. Notwithstanding, the gloom on the Chief's brow was scarcely lightened. He even besought Waverley to betake himself at once out of the kingdomby an eastern port, to marry Rose Bradwardine, and to take Flora withhim as a companion to Rose, and also for her own protection. Edward was astonished at this complete change in Fergus. "What!" he cried, "abandon the expedition on which we have allembarked?" "Embarked, " answered the Chief, bitterly; "why, man, the expedition isgoing to pieces! It is time for all those who can, to get ashore in thelongboat!" "And what, " said Edward, "are the other Highland chiefs going to do?" "Oh, the chiefs, " said Fergus, contemptuously, "they think that all theheading and hanging will, as before, fall to the lot of the Lowlands, and that they will be left alone in their poor and barren Highlands, to'listen to the wind on the hill till the waters abate. ' But they will bedisappointed. The government will make sure work this time, and leavenot a clan in all the Highlands able to do them hurt. As for me, it willnot matter. I shall either be dead or taken by this time to-morrow. Ihave seen the _Bodach Glas_--the Grey Spectre. " Edward looked the surprise he did not speak. "Why!" continued Fergus, in a low voice, "were you so long aboutGlennaquoich and yet never heard of the Bodach Glas? The story is wellknown to every son of Ivor. I will tell it you in a word. My forefather, Ian nan Chaistel, wasted part of England along with a Lowland chiefnamed Halbert Hall. After passing the Cheviots on their way back, theyquarrelled about the dividing of the spoil, and from words came speedilyto blows. In the fight, the Lowlanders were cut off to the last man, andtheir leader fell to my ancestor's sword. But ever since that day thedead man's spirit has crossed the Chief of Clan Ivor on the eve of anygreat disaster. My father saw him twice, once before he was takenprisoner at Sheriff-Muir, and once again on the morning of the day onwhich he died. " Edward cried out against such superstition. "How can you, " he said, "you who have seen the world, believe suchchild's nonsense as that?" "Listen, " said the Chief, "here are the facts, and you can judge foryourself. Last night I could not sleep for thinking on the downfall ofall my hopes for the cause, for the Prince, for the clan--so, afterlying long awake, I stepped out into the frosty air. I had crossed asmall foot-bridge, and was walking backward and forward, when I saw, clear before me in the moonlight, a tall man wrapped in a grey plaid, such as the shepherds wear. The figure kept regularly about four yardsfrom me. " "That is an easy riddle, " exclaimed Edward; "why, my dear Fergus, whatyou saw was no more than a Cumberland peasant in his ordinary dress!" "So I thought at first, " answered Fergus, "and I was astonished at theman's audacity in daring to dog me. I called to him, but got no answer. I felt my heart beating quickly, and to find out what I was afraid of, Iturned and faced first north, and then south, east, and west. Each way Iturned, I saw the grey figure before my eyes at precisely the samedistance! Then I knew I had seen the Bodach Glas. My hair stood up, andso strong an impression of awe came upon me that I resolved to return tomy quarters. As I went, the spirit glided steadily before me, till wecame to the narrow bridge, where it turned and stood waiting for me. Icould not wade the stream. I could not bring myself to turn back. So, making the sign of the cross, I drew my sword and cried aloud, 'In thename of God, Evil Spirit, give place!' "'_Vich Ian Vohr_, ' it said in a dreadful voice, '_beware ofto-morrow!_' "It was then within half a yard of my sword's point, but as the wordswere uttered it was gone. There was nothing either on the bridge or onthe way home. All is over. I am doomed. I have seen the Bodach Glas, the curse of my house. " [Illustration: "THE spirit glided steadily before me, till we came tothe narrow bridge, where it turned and stood waiting for me. I could notwade the stream. I could not bring myself to turn back. So, making thesign of the cross, I drew my sword and cried aloud, 'In the name of God, Evil Spirit, give place!' "'_Vich Ian Vohr_, ' it said in a dreadful voice, '_beware ofto-morrow!_'"] Edward could think of nothing to say in reply. His friend's belief inthe reality of the vision was too strong. He could only ask to beallowed to march once more with the sons of Ivor, who occupied the postof danger in the rear. Edward easily obtained the Baron's leave to doso, and when the Clan Mac-Ivor entered the village, he joined them, oncemore arm in arm with their Chieftain. At the sight, all the Mac-Ivors'ill feeling was blown away in a moment. Evan Dhu received him with agrin of pleasure. And the imp Callum, with a great patch on his head, appeared particularly delighted to see him. But Waverley's stay with the Clan Ivor was not to be long. The enemy wascontinually harassing their flanks, and the rear-guard had to keeplining hedges and dikes in order to beat them off. Night was alreadyfalling on the day which Fergus had foretold would be his last, when ina chance skirmish of outposts the Chief with a few followers foundhimself surrounded by a strong attacking force of dragoons. A swift eddyof the battle threw Edward out to one side. The cloud of night lifted, and he saw Evan Dhu and a few others, with the Chieftain in their midst, desperately defending themselves against a large number of dragoons whowere hewing at them with their swords. It was quite impossible forWaverley to break through to their assistance. Night shut downimmediately, and he found it was equally impossible for him to rejointhe retreating Highlanders, whose warpipes he could still hear in thedistance. INTERLUDE OF BREVITY The _Bodach Glas_ held the children. The brilliant sunshine of the High Garden in which they had listened to the tale became instantly palest moonlight, and between them and the strawberry bed they saw the filmy plaid of the Grey Spectre of the House of Ivor. It had been helpful and even laudable to play-act the chief scenes when the story was beginning, but now they had no time. It would have been an insult to the interest of the narrative. Doubtless, if they had had the book, they would have _skipped_, to know "how it all ended. " But it was time for the evening walk. So, instead of stringing themselves out along the way as was their custom, seeing if the raspberry bushes had grown any taller since the morning, the four collected in a close swarm about the tale-teller, like bees about an emigrant queen. "You must tell us the rest--you _must!_" they said, linking arms about my waist to prevent any attempt at an evasion of such just demands. So, being secretly no little pleased with their eagerness, I launched out upon the conclusion of the whole matter--which showed, among other things, how Waverley-Honour was more honoured than ever and the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine threefold blessed. THE LAST TALE FROM "WAVERLEY" THE BARON'S SURPRISE AFTER wandering about for some time Edward came unexpectedly upon ahamlet. Lights gleamed down the street, and Edward could hear loudvoices and the tramp of horses. The sound of shouted orders andsoldiers' oaths soon told him that he was in great danger. For thesewere English troops, and if they caught him in his Mac-Ivor tartan, would assuredly give him short shrift and a swift bullet. Lingering a moment uncertainly near the gate of a small gardenenclosure, he felt himself caught by gentle hands and drawn toward ahouse. "Come, Ned, " said a low voice, "the dragoons are down the village, andthey will do thee a mischief. Come with me into feyther's!" Judging this to be very much to the purpose, Edward followed, but whenthe girl saw the tall figure in tartans instead of the sweetheart shehad expected, she dropped the candle she had lighted, and called out forher father. A stout Westmoreland peasant at once appeared, poker in hand, andpresently Edward found himself not ill received--by the daughter onaccount of a likeness to her lover (so she said) and by the fatherbecause of a certain weakness for the losing side. So, in the house ofFarmer Jopson, Edward slept soundly that night, in spite of the dangerswhich surrounded him on every side. In the morning the true Edward, whose name turned out to be Ned Williams, was called in to consult withfather and daughter. It seemed impossible for Edward to go north torejoin the Prince's forces. They had evacuated Penrith and marched awaytoward Carlisle. The whole intervening country was covered by scoutingparties of government horsemen. Whereupon Ned Williams, who wished aboveall things to rid the house of his handsome namesake, lest hissweetheart Cicely should make other mistakes, offered to get Waverley achange of clothes, and to conduct him to his father's farm nearUlswater. Neither old Jopson nor his daughter would accept a farthing ofmoney for saving Waverley's life. A hearty handshake paid one; a kiss, the other. And so it was not long before Ned Williams was introducingour hero to his family, in the character of a young clergyman who wasdetained in the north by the unsettled state of the country. On their way into Cumberland they passed the field of battle whereEdward had lost sight of Fergus. Many bodies still lay upon the face ofthe moorland, but that of Vich Ian Vohr was not among them, and Edwardpassed on with some hope that in spite of the _Bodach Glas_, Fergusmight have escaped his doom. They found Callum Beg, however, his toughskull cloven at last by a dragoon's sword, but there was no sign eitherof Evan or of his Chieftain. In the secure shelter of good Farmer Williams's house among the hills, it was Edward's lot to remain somewhat longer than he intended. In thefirst place, it was wholly impossible to move for ten days, owing to agreat fall of snow. Then he heard how that the Prince had retreatedfarther into Scotland, how Carlisle had been besieged and taken by theEnglish, and that the whole north was covered by the hosts of the Dukeof Cumberland and General Wade. But in the month of January it happened that the clergyman who came toperform the ceremony at the wedding of Ned Williams and Cicely Jopson, brought with him a newspaper which he showed to Edward. In it Waverleyread with astonishment a notice of his father's death in London, and ofthe approaching trial of Sir Everard for high treason--unless (said thereport) Edward Waverley, son of the late Richard Waverley, and heir tothe baronet, should in the meantime surrender himself to justice. It was with an aching anxious heart that Waverley set out by thenorthern diligence for London. He found himself in the vehicle oppositeto an officer's wife, one Mrs. Nosebag, who tormented him all the waywith questions, on several occasions almost finding him out, and once atleast narrowly escaping giving him an introduction to a recruitingsergeant of his own regiment. However, in spite of all risks, he arrived safely under Colonel Talbot'sroof, where he found that, though the news of his father's death wasindeed true, yet his own conduct certainly had nothing to do with thematter--nor was Sir Everard in the slightest present danger. Whereupon, much relieved as to his family, Edward proclaimed hisintention of returning to Scotland as soon as possible--not indeed tojoin with the rebels again, but for the purpose of seeking out RoseBradwardine and conducting her to a place of safety. It was not, perhaps, the wisest course he might have pursued. But duringhis lonely stay at Farmer Williams's farm, Edward's heart had turnedoften and much to Rose. He could not bear to think of her alone andwithout protection. By means of a passport (which had been obtained forone Frank Stanley, Colonel Talbot's nephew), Waverley was able easily toreach Edinburgh. Here from the landlady, with whom he and Fergus hadlodged, Edward first heard the dread news of Culloden, of the slaughterof the clans, the flight of the Prince, and, worst of all, how Fergusand Evan Dhu, captured the night of the skirmish, were presently ontrial for their lives at Carlisle. Flora also was in Carlisle, awaitingthe issue of the trial, while with less certainty Rose Bradwardine wasreported to have gone back to her father's mansion of Tully-Veolan. Concerning the brave old Baron himself, Edward could get no news, savethat he had fought most stoutly at Culloden, but that the governmentwere particularly bitter against him because he had been '_out_'twice--that is, he had taken part both in the first rising of the year1715, and also in that which had just been put down in blood atCulloden. Without a moment's hesitation, Edward set off for Tully-Veolan, andafter one or two adventures he arrived there, only to find the whitetents of a military encampment whitening the moor above the village. Thehouse itself had been sacked. Part of the stables had been burned, whilethe only living being left about the mansion of Tully-Veolan was noother than poor Davie Gellatley, who, chanting his foolish songs asusual, greeted Edward with the cheering intelligence that "_A' were deadand gane--Baron--Bailie--Saunders Saunderson--and Lady Rose that sangsae sweet!_" However, it was not long before he set off at full speed, motioningWaverley to follow him. The innocent took a difficult and dangerous pathalong the sides of a deep glen, holding on to bushes, rounding perilouscorners of rock, till at last the barking of dogs directed them to theentrance of a wretched hovel. Here Davie's mother received Edward with asullen fierceness which the young man could not understand--till, frombehind the door, holding a pistol in his hand, unwashed, gaunt, andwith a three weeks' beard fringing his hollow cheeks, he saw comeforth--the Baron of Bradwardine himself. After the first gladsome greetings were over, the old man had many atale to tell his young English friend. But his chief grievance was nothis danger of the gallows, nor the discomfort of his hiding-place, butthe evil-doing of his cousin, to whom, as it now appeared, the Barony ofBradwardine now belonged. Malcolm of Inch-Grabbit had, it appeared, cometo uplift the rents of the Barony. But the country people, beingnaturally indignant that he should have so readily taken advantage ofthe misfortune of his kinsman, received him but ill. Indeed, a shot wasfired at the new proprietor by some unknown marksman in the gloaming, which so frightened the heir that he fled at once to Stirling and hadthe estate promptly advertised for sale. "In addition to which, " continued the old man, "though I bred him upfrom a boy, he hath spoken much against me to the great folk of thetime, so that they have sent a company of soldiers down here to destroyall that belongs to me, and to hunt his own blood-kin like a partridgeupon the mountains. " "Aye, " cried Janet Gellatley, "and if it had not been for my poor Daviethere, they would have catched the partridge, too!" Then with a true mother's pride Janet told the story of how the poorinnocent had saved his master. The Baron was compelled by the strictnessof the watch to hide, all day and most of the nights, in a cave high upin a wooded glen. "A comfortable place enough, " the old woman explained; "for the goodmanof Corse-Cleugh has filled it with straw. But his Honour tires of it, and he comes down here whiles for a warm at the fire, or at times asleep between the blankets. But once, when he was going back in thedawn, two of the English soldiers got a glimpse of him as he wasslipping into the wood and banged off a gun at him. I was out on themlike a hawk, crying if they wanted to murder a poor woman's innocentbairn! Whereupon they swore down my throat that they had seen 'the auldrebel himself, ' as they called the Baron. But my Davie, that some folktake for a simpleton, being in the wood, caught up the old grey cloakthat his Honour had dropped to run the quicker, and came out from amongthe trees as we were speaking, majoring and play-acting so like hisHonour that the soldier-men were clean beguiled, and even gave mesixpence to say nothing about their having let off their gun at 'poorcrack-brained Sawney, ' as they named my Davie!" It was not till this long tale was ended that Waverley heard what he hadcome so far to find out--that Rose was safe in the house of a WhigLaird, an old friend of her father's, and that the Bailie, who had earlyleft the army of the Prince, was trying his best to save something outof the wreck for her. The next morning Edward went off to call on Bailie Macwheeble. At firstthe man of law was not very pleased to see him, but when he learned thatWaverley meant to ask Rose to be his wife, he flung his best wig out ofthe window and danced the Highland fling for very joy. This rejoicingwas a little marred by the fact that Waverley was still underproscription. But when a messenger of the Bailie's had returned from thenearest post-town with a letter from Colonel Talbot, all fear on thisaccount was at an end. Colonel Talbot had, though with the greatestdifficulty, obtained royal Protections for both the Baron of Bradwardineand for Edward himself. There was no doubt that full pardons wouldfollow in due course. Right thankfully the Baron descended from his cave, as soon as Edwardcarried him the good news, and with Davie Gellatley and his mother, allwent down to the house of Bailie Macwheeble, where supper wasimmediately served. It was from old Janet Gellatley, Davie's mother, that Waverley learnedwhom he had to thank for rescuing him from the hands of Captain GiftedGilfillan, and to whom the gentle voice belonged which had cheered himduring his illness. It was none other than Rose Bradwardine herself. Toher, Edward owed all. She had even given up her jewels to Donald BeanLean, that he might go scatheless. She it was who had provided a nursefor him in the person of old Janet Gellatley herself, and lastly she hadseen him safely on his way to Holyrood under the escort of the sulkyLaird of Balmawhapple. So great kindness certainly required very special thanks. And Edward wasnot backward in asking the Baron for permission to accompany him to thehouse of Duchran, where Rose was at present residing. So well did Edwardexpress his gratitude to Rose, that she consented to give all her lifeinto his hands, that he might go on showing how thankful he was. Of course the marriage could not take place for some time, because thefull pardons of the Baron and Edward took some time to obtain. ForFergus Mac-Ivor, alas, no pardon was possible. He and Evan Dhu werecondemned to be executed for high treason at Carlisle, and all thatEdward could do was only to promise the condemned Chieftain that hewould be kind to the poor clansmen of Vich Ian Vohr, for the sake of hisfriend. As for Evan Dhu, he might have escaped. The Judge went the length ofoffering to show mercy, if Evan would only ask it. But when Evan Dhu wascalled upon to plead before the Court, his only request was that hemight be permitted to go down to Glennaquoich and bring up six men to behanged in the place of Vich Ian Vohr. "And, " he said, "ye may begin with me the first man!" At this there was a laugh in the Court. But Evan, looking about himsternly, added: "If the Saxon gentlemen are laughing because a poor mansuch as me thinks my life, or the life of any six of my degree, is worththat of Vich Ian Vohr, they may be very right. But if they laugh becausethey think I would not keep my word, and come back to redeem him, I cantell them they ken neither the heart of a Hielandman nor the honour of agentleman!" After these words, there was no more laughing in that Court. Nothing now could save Fergus Mac-Ivor. The government were resolved onhis death as an example, and both he and Evan were accordingly executed, along with many others of the unhappy garrison of Carlisle. * * * * * Edward and Rose were married from the house of Duchran, and some daysafter they started, according to the custom of the time, to spend sometime upon an estate which Colonel Talbot had bought, as was reported, avery great bargain. The Baron had been persuaded to accompany them, taking a place of honour in their splendid coach and six, the gift ofSir Everard. The coach of Mr. Rubrick of Duchran came next, full ofladies, and many gentlemen on horseback rode with them as an escort tosee them well on their way. At the turning of the road which led to Tully-Veolan, the Bailie metthem. He requested the party to turn aside and accept of his hospitalityat his house of Little Veolan. The Baron, somewhat put out, replied thathe and his son-in-law would ride that way, but that they would not bringupon him the whole matrimonial procession. It was clear, however, thatthe Baron rather dreaded visiting the ancient home of his ancestors, which had been so lately sold by the unworthy Malcolm of Inch-Grabbitinto the hands of a stranger. But as the Bailie insisted, and as theparty evidently wished to accept, he could not hold out. When the Baron arrived at the avenue, he fell into a melancholymeditation, thinking doubtless of the days when he had taken such pridein the ancient Barony which had passed for ever away from the line ofthe Bradwardines. From these bitter thoughts he was awakened by thesight of the two huge stone bears which had been replaced over thegate-posts. Then down the avenue came the two great deer-hounds, Ban and Buscar, which had so long kept their master company in his solitude, with DaftDavie Gellatley dancing behind them. The Baron was then informed that the present owner of the Barony was noother than Colonel Talbot himself. But that if he did not care to visitthe new owner of Bradwardine, the party would proceed to Little Veolan, the house of Bailie Macwheeble. Then, indeed, the Baron had need of all his greatness of mind. But hedrew a long breath, took snuff abundantly, and remarked that as they hadbrought him so far, he would not pass the Colonel's gate, and that hewould be happy to see the new master of his tenants. When he alighted infront of the Castle, the Baron was astonished to find how swiftly themarks of spoliation had been removed. Even the roots of the felled treeshad disappeared. All was fair and new about the house of Tully-Veolan, even to the bright colours of the garb of Davie Gellatley, who ran firstto one and then to the other of the company, passing his hands over hisnew clothes and crying, "Braw, braw Davie!" The dogs, Bran and Buscar, leaping upon him, brought tears into theBaron's eyes, even more than the kind welcome of Colonel Talbot's wife, the Lady Emily. Still more astonishing appeared the changes in the solately ruined courtyard. The burned stables had been rebuilt upon anewer and better plan. The pigeon-house was restocked, and populous withfluttering wings. Even the smallest details of the garden, and themultitude of stone bears on the gables, had all been carefully restoredas of old. The Baron could hardly believe his eyes, and he marvelled aloud thatColonel Talbot had not thought fit to replace the Bradwardine arms byhis own. But here the Colonel, suddenly losing patience, declared thathe would not, even to please these foolish boys, Waverley and FrankStanley (and his own more foolish wife), continue to impose upon anotherold soldier. So without more ado he told the Baron that he had onlyadvanced the money to buy back the Barony, and that he would leaveBailie Macwheeble to explain to whom the estate really belonged. Trembling with eagerness the Bailie advanced, a formidable roll ofpapers in his hand. He began triumphantly to explain that Colonel Talbot had indeed boughtBradwardine, but that he had immediately exchanged it for Brere-woodLodge, which had been left to Edward under his father's will. Bradwardine had therefore returned to its ancient Lord in full andundisputed possession, and the Baron was once more master of all hishereditary powers, subject only to an easy yearly payment to hisson-in-law. Tears were actually in the old gentleman's eyes as he went from room toroom, so that he could scarce speak a word of welcome either to theguests within, or of thanks to the rejoicing farmers and cottars who, hearing of his return, had gathered without. The climax of his joy was, however, reached when the Blessed Bear of Bradwardine itself, thegolden cup of his line, mysteriously recovered out of the spoil of theEnglish army by Frank Stanley, was brought to the Baron's elbow by oldSaunders Saunderson. Truth to tell, the recovery of this heirloom afforded the old man almostas much pleasure as the regaining of his Barony, and there is littledoubt that a tear mingled with the wine, as, holding the Blessed Bear inhis hand, the Baron solemnly proposed the healths of the united familiesof Waverley-Honour and Bradwardine. THE END OF THE LAST TALE FROM "WAVERLEY. " RED CAP TALES TOLD FROM GUY MANNERING GUY MANNERING WHERE WE TOLD THE SECOND TALE SUMMER there had been none. Autumn was a mockery. The golden harvestfields lay prostrate under drenching floods of rain. Every burn foamedcreamy white in the linns and sulked peaty brown in the pools. Theheather, rich in this our Galloway as an emperor's robe, had scarcebloomed at all. The very bees went hungry, for the lashing rain hadwashed all the honey out of the purple bells. Nevertheless, in spite of all, we were again in Galloway--that is, theteller of tales and his little congregation of four. The country of _GuyMannering_ spread about us, even though we could scarce see a hundredyards of it. The children flattened their noses against the blurredwindow-panes to look. Their eyes watered with the keen tang of the peatreek, till, tired with watching the squattering of ducks in farmpuddles, they turned as usual upon the family sagaman, and demanded, with that militant assurance of youth which succeeds so often, that heshould forthwith and immediately "tell them something. " The tales from _Waverley_ had proved so enthralling that there was ageneral demand for "another, " and Sir Toady Lion, being of anarithmetical turn of mind, proclaimed that there was plenty of material, in so much as he had counted no fewer than twenty-four "all the same"upon the shelf before he left home. Thus, encouraged by the dashing rain on the windows and with the lowcontinual growl of Solway surf in our ears, we bent ourselves to fill agap in a hopeless day by the retelling of A FIRST TALE FROM "GUY MANNERING" I. WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY THROUGH storm and darkness a young Oxford scholar came to the New Placeof Ellangowan. He had been again and again refused shelter along theroad for himself and his tired horse, but at last he found himselfwelcomed by Godfrey Bertram, the Laird of Ellangowan, attended byDominie Sampson, his faithful companion, the village schoolmaster, onthe threshold of the great house. That very night an heir was born to the line of the Bertrams ofEllangowan, one of the most ancient in Galloway, and as usual the NewPlace was full of company come from far and near to make merry over theevent. Godfrey himself, a soft, good-natured, pliable man, welcomedMannering (for that was the name of the young Oxford student), and sethim forthwith to calculating the horoscope of the babe from the stars. This, Mannering, to whom astrology seemed no better than child's play, was at first unwilling to do, until the awkward opposition of DominieSampson, as well as some curiosity to see if he could remember the termsof the sham-science learned in youth, caused him to consent to make thecalculation. He was still further pushed on by the appearance of a wild gipsy woman, a sort of queen among the ragged wandering tribe which camped in alittle hamlet on the Laird's estates. She entered the house singingshrilly a kind of ancient spell: "Trefoil, vervain, John's wort, dill, Hinder witches of their will! Weel is them, that weel may Fast upon Saint Andrew's day. Saint Bride and her brat, Saint Colme and his cat, Saint Michael and his spear Keep the house frae reif and weir. " So sang Meg Merrilies, the gipsy, a great cudgel in her hand, and herdress and bearing more like those of a man than of a woman. Elf-locksshot up through the holes in her bonnet, and her black eyes rolled witha kind of madness. Soon, however, Godfrey, who evidently only halfdisbelieved in her powers as a witch, dismissed her to the kitchen withfair words, while Guy Mannering, whom his strange adventure had renderedsleepless, walked forth into the night. The vast ruins of the ancientcastle of the Bertrams rose high and silent on the cliffs above him, butbeneath, in the little sandy cove, lights were still moving briskly, though it was the dead hour of the night. A smuggler brig was disloadinga cargo of brandy, rum, and silks, most likely, brought from the Isle ofMan. At sight of his figure moving on the cliffs above, a voice on the shoresang out, "Ware hawk! Douse the glim!" And in a moment all was darknessbeneath him. When Mannering returned to his chamber in the dim light of the morning, he proceeded to carry out his calculations according to the strictestrules of astrology, marking carefully the hour of the birth of the babe. He found that young Harry Bertram, for so it had been decided to namethe child, was threatened with danger in his _fifth_, his _tenth_, andhis _twenty-first_ years. More dissatisfied than he cared to own with these results, Manneringwalked out again to view the ruins of the old castle of Ellangowan inthe morning light. They were, he now saw, of vast extent and muchbattered on the side toward the sea--so much so, indeed, that he couldobserve through a gap in the mason-work, the smuggling brig gettingready to be off with the tide. Guy Mannering penetrated into thecourtyard, and was standing there quietly, thinking of the pastgreatness of the house of Bertram, when suddenly, from a chamber to theleft, he heard the voice of the gipsy, Meg Merrilies. A few steps tookhim to a recess from which, unseen himself, he could observe what shewas doing. She continued to twirl her distaff, seemingly unconscious ofhis presence, and also, after her own fashion, to "spae" the fortune ofyoung Harry Bertram, just as Mannering had so lately been doing himself. Curiosity as to whether their results would agree kept him quiet whileshe wove her spell. At last she gave her verdict: "A long life, threescore and ten years, but thrice broken by trouble or danger. The threadsthrice broke, three times united. He'll be a lucky lad if he winsthrough wi' it!" Mannering had hardly time to be astonished at the manner in which thegipsy's prophecy confirmed his own half-playful calculations, before avoice, loud and hoarse as the waves that roared beneath the castle, called to the witch-wife, "Meg, Meg Merrilies--gipsy--hag--tousanddeyvils!" "Coming, Captain--I am coming!" answered Meg, as calmly as if some onehad been calling her pet names. Through the broken portion of the wallto seaward a man made his appearance. He was hard of feature, savage-looking, and there was a cruel glint in his eyes which told of aheart without pity. The man's body, powerful and thick-set as an oak, his immense strength, his savage temper made him shunned and disliked. There were few indeedwho would have ventured to cross the path of Dirk Hatteraick, whose bestname was "black smuggler, " and whose worst a word it was safest to speakin a whisper, lest a bird of the air should carry the matter. On the present occasion Dirk had come to the gipsy queen to demand ofher a charm for a fair wind and a prosperous voyage. For the lessreligion such a man has, the more superstitious he is apt to be. "Where are you, Mother Deyvilson?" he cried again. "Donner and blitzen, here we have been staying for you full half an hour! Come, bless thegood ship and the voyage--and be cursed to ye for a hag of Satan!" At that moment, catching sight of Mannering, the smuggler stopped with astrange start. He thrust his hand into his pocket as if to draw out ahidden weapon, exclaiming: "What cheer, brother? You seem on theoutlook, eh?" But with a glance at the intruder Meg Merrilies checked him. In a momentHatteraick had altered his tone, and was speaking to Mannering civilly, yet still with an undercurrent of sullen suspicion which he tried todisguise under a mask of familiarity. "You are, I suppose, " said Mannering, calmly, "the master of that vesselin the bay?" "Ay, ay, sir, " answered the sailor, "I am Captain Dirk Hatteraick of the_Yungfrauw Hagenslaapen_, and I am not ashamed of my name or of myvessel, either. Right cognac I carry--rum, lace, real Mechlin, andSouchong tea--if you will come aboard, I will send you ashore with apouchful of that last--Dirk Hatteraick knows how to be civil!" Mannering got rid of his offers without openly offending the man, andwas well content to see the precious pair vanish down the stone stairswhich had formerly served the garrison of the castle in time of siege. On his return to the house of Ellangowan, Mannering related hisadventure, and asked of his host who this villanous-looking Dutchmanmight be, and why he was allowed to wander at will on his lands. This was pulling the trigger, and Mr. Bertram at once exploded into along catalogue of griefs. According to him, the man was undoubtedly oneCaptain Dirk Hatteraick, a smuggler or free-trader. As for allowing himon his lands--well, Dirk was not very canny to meddle with. Besides, impossible as it was to believe, he, Godfrey Bertram of Ellangowan, wasnot upon his Majesty's commission of the peace for the county. Jealousyhad kept him off--among other things the ill-will of the sitting member. Besides which--after all a gentleman must have his cognac, and his ladyher tea and silks. Only smuggled articles came into the country. It wasa pity, of course, but he was not more to blame than others. Thus the Laird maundered on, and Mannering, glad to escape being askedabout the doubtful fortune which the stars had predicted for the youngheir, did not interrupt him. On the next day, however, before he mountedhis horse, he put the written horoscope into a sealed envelope, and, having strictly charged Bertram that it should not be opened till hisson reached the age of five years, he took his departure with manyexpressions of regret. The next five years were outwardly prosperous ones for Godfrey Bertramof Ellangowan. As the result of an election where he had been of muchservice to the winning candidate, he was again made a Justice of thePeace, and immediately he set about proving to his brothers of the benchthat he could be both a determined and an active magistrate. But thisapparent good, brought as usual much of evil with it. Many old kindlycustoms and courtesies had endeared Godfrey Bertram to his poorerneighbours. He was, they said, no man's enemy, and even the gipsies ofthe little settlement would have cut off their right hands before theytouched a pennyworth belonging to the Laird, their patron and protector. But the other landlords twitted him with pretending to be an activemagistrate, and yet harbouring a gang of gipsies at his own door-cheek. Whereupon the Laird went slowly and somewhat sadly home, revolvingschemes for getting rid of the colony of Derncleugh, at the head ofwhich was the old witch-wife Meg Merrilies. Occasions of quarrel were easy to find. The sloe-eyed gipsy childrenswinging on his gates were whipped down. The rough-coated donkeysforbidden to eat their bite of grass in peace by the roadside. The menwere imprisoned for poaching, and matters went so far that one stoutyoung fellow was handed over to the press-gang at Dumfries and sent toforeign parts to serve on board a man-of-war. The gipsies, on their side, robbed the Ellangowan hen-roosts, stole thelinen from my lady's bleaching-green, cut down and barked the youngtrees--though all the while scarce believing that their ancient friendthe Laird of Ellangowan had really turned against them. During these five years the son, so strangely brought into the world onthe night of Mannering's visit, had been growing into the boldest andbrightest of boys. A wanderer by nature from his youth, he wentfearlessly into each nook and corner of his father's estates in searchof berries and flowers. He hunted every bog for rushes to weavegrenadiers' caps, and haled the hazelnuts from the lithe coppice boughs. To Dominie Sampson, long since released from his village school, thedifficult task was committed of accompanying, restraining, and guidingthis daring spirit and active body. Shy, uncouth, awkward, with thememory of his failure in the pulpit always upon him, the Dominie wasindeed quite able to instruct his pupil in the beginnings of learning, but it proved quite out of his power to control the pair of twinklinglegs belonging to Master Harry Bertram. Once was the Dominie chased by across-grained cow. Once he fell into the brook at the stepping-stones, and once he was bogged in his middle in trying to gather water-liliesfor the young Laird. The village matrons who relieved Dominie Sampsonon this last occasion, declared that the Laird might just as well "trustthe bairn to the care o' a tatie-bogle!"[2] But the good tutor, nothingdaunted, continued grave and calm through all, only exclaiming, aftereach fresh misfortune, the single word "Prodeegious!" Often, too, Harry Bertram sought out Meg Merrilies at Derncleugh, wherehe played his pranks among the gipsies as fearlessly as within the wallsof Ellangowan itself. Meanwhile the war between that active magistrateGodfrey Bertram and the gipsies grew ever sharper. The Laird wasresolved to root them out, in order to stand well with his brothermagistrates. So the gipsies sullenly watched while the ground officerchalked their doors in token that they must "flit" at the next term. At last the fatal day arrived. A strong force of officers summoned thegipsies to quit their houses, and when they did not obey, the sheriff'smen broke down the doors and pulled the roofs off the poor huts ofDerncleugh. Godfrey Bertram, who was really a kindly man, had gone away for the dayto avoid the sight, leaving the business to the chief exciseman of theneighbourhood, --one Frank Kennedy, a bold, roistering blade, who knew nofear, and had no qualms whatever about ridding the neighbourhood of agang of "sorners and thieves, " as he called the Derncleugh gipsies. But as Godfrey was riding back to Ellangowan with a single servant, right in the middle of the King's highway, he met the whole congregationof the exiles, evicted from their ruined houses, and sullenly takingtheir way in search of a new shelter against the storms of the oncomingwinter. His servant rode forward to command every man to stand to hisbeast's head while the Laird was passing. "He shall have his half of the road, " growled one of the tall thingipsies, his features half-buried in a slouch hat, "but he shall have nomore. The highway is as free to our cuddies as to his horse. " Never before had the Laird of Ellangowan received such a discourteousreception. Anxious at the last to leave a good impression, he stammeredout as he passed one of the older men, "And your son, Gabriel Baillie, is he well?" (He meant the young man who had been sent by means of thepress-gang to foreign parts. ) With a deep scowl the old man replied, "IfI had heard otherwise, _you_ would have heard it too!" At last Godfrey Bertram thought that he had escaped. He had passed thelast laden donkey of the expelled tribe. He was urging his beast towardEllangowan with a saddened spirit, when suddenly at a place where theroad was sunk between two high banks, Meg Merrilies appeared above him, a freshly cut sapling in her hand, her dark eyes flashing anger, and herelf-locks straying in wilder confusion than ever. "Ride your ways, Laird of Ellangowan, " she cried, "ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram! This day ye have quenched seven smoking hearths--see ifthe fire in your own parlour burns the brighter for that? Ye have riventhe thatch off seven cottars' houses--look if your roof-tree stands thefaster. There are thirty yonder that would have shed their lifeblood foryou--thirty, from the child of a week to the auld wife of a hundred, that you have made homeless, that you have sent out to sleep with thefox and the blackcock. Our bairns are hanging on our weary backs--lookto it that your braw cradle at hame is the fairer spread! Now ride yourways, Godfrey Bertram. These are the last words ye shall ever hear fromMeg Merrilies, and this the last staff that I shall ever cut in thebonny woods of Ellangowan!" [Illustration: "MEG MERRILIES appeared above him, a freshly cut saplingin her hand, her dark eyes flashing anger, and her elf-locks strayingin wilder confusion than ever. "'Ride your ways, Laird of Ellangowan, ' she cried, 'ride your ways, Godfrey Bertram! This day ye have quenched seven smoking hearths--see ifthe fire in your own parlour burns the brighter for that!'"] And with the gesture of a queen delivering sentence she broke thesapling she had held in her hand, and flung the fragments into the road. The Laird was groping in his pocket for half a crown, and thinkingmeanwhile what answer to make. But disdaining both his reply and hispeace-offering, Meg strode defiantly downhill after the caravan. * * * * * Not only was there war by land at Ellangowan. There was also war by sea. The Laird, determined for once not to do things by halves, had begun tosupport Frank Kennedy, the chief revenue officer, in his campaignagainst the smugglers. Armed with Ellangowan's warrant, and guided byhis people who knew the country, Kennedy swooped down upon DirkHatteraick as he was in the act of landing a large cargo uponEllangowan's ground. After a severe combat he had been able to clap thegovernment broad-arrow upon every package and carry them all off to thenearest customs' post. Dirk Hatteraick got safely away, but he went, vowing in English, Dutch, and German, the direst vengeance against FrankKennedy, Godfrey Bertram, and all his enemies. It was a day or two after the eviction of the gipsies when the Lady ofEllangowan, suddenly remembering that it was her son Harry's fifthbirthday, demanded of her husband that he should open and read thehoroscope written by the wandering student of the stars five yearsbefore. While they were arguing about the matter, it was suddenlydiscovered that little Harry was nowhere to be found. His guardian, Dominie Sampson, having returned without him, was summoned to give anaccount of his stewardship by the angry mother. "Mr. Sampson, " she cried, "it is the most extraordinary thing in theworld wide, that you have free up-putting in this house, --bed, board, washing, and twelve pounds sterling a year just to look after thatboy, --and here you have let him out of your sight for three hours at atime!" Bowing with awkward gratitude at each clause in this statement of hisadvantages, the poor Dominie was at last able to stammer out that FrankKennedy had taken charge of Master Harry, in the face of his protest, and had carried him off to Warroch Head to see the taking of DirkHatteraick's ship by the King's sloop-of-war, which he had ridden allthe way to Wigton Bay to bring about. "And if that be so, " cried the Lady of Ellangowan, "I am very littleobliged to Frank Kennedy. The bairn may fall from his horse, or anythingmay happen. " The Laird quieted his wife by telling her that he and Frank Kennedy hadtogether seen the sloop-of-war giving chase to Dirk Hatteraick's ship, and that even then the Dutchman, disabled and on fire, was fast driftingupon the rocks. Frank Kennedy had ridden off to assist in the capture bysignalling to the man-of-war from Warroch Head, and had evidently pickedup little Harry upon the way. He would doubtless, continued the Laird, be back in a little time. For he had ordered the punch-bowl to be madeready, that they might drink good luck to the King's service andconfusion to all smugglers and free-traders wherever found. But hour after hour went by, and neither Frank Kennedy nor the boy Harryreturned. The night approached. Parties of searchers anxiously beat thewoods and patrolled the cliffs. For long they found nothing, but at lasta boat's crew, landing perilously at the foot of the precipices, cameupon the body of the excise officer, a sword-cut in his head, lyinghalf in and half out of the water. He had been flung from the cliffsabove. Frank Kennedy was dead--as to that there was no question. Butwhat had become of the child, Harry Bertram? That--no one could answer. Not a trace of him was to be found. The smuggler's ship still burnedfiercely, but Dirk Hatteraick and his men had completely vanished. Someone suggested the gipsies, whereupon the Laird mounted the first horsehe came across and rode furiously to the huts of Derncleugh. Bursting ina door, he found on the ruined hearth of the house that had oncesheltered Meg Merrilies, a fire still smouldering. But there, too, Godfrey Bertram discovered nothing and no one. While he remained on the spot, dazed and uncertain, looking at theblackened hearthstone, his old servant entered hastily to bid him returnat once to Ellangowan. His wife had been taken dangerously ill. Godfreyspurred as fast as horse would carry him, but Death had gone faster, andhad arrived before him. When he reached the gate, the Lady of Ellangowanwas dead, leaving him with a little baby girl less than an hour old. Theshock of Kennedy's murder and her own little Harry's loss had killedher. INTERLUDE OF INTERROGATION The melancholy conclusion of the first _Guy Mannering_ tale kept the children quieter than usual. I think they regretted a little the gallant opening of _Waverley_, but as ever they were full of questions. "And all that happened here, in our Galloway?" began Sweetheart, looking about her at the hills of dark heather and the sparkling Solway sands, from which the storm-clouds were just beginning to lift. "Yes, " I answered her, "though it is doubtful if Scott ever _was_ in Galloway. But he had seen Criffel across from Dumfries-shire, and the castle of Ellangowan is certainly described from the ruins of Caerlaverock, opposite New Abbey. Besides, had he not good old Joseph Train, the Castle Douglas exciseman, to tell him everything--than whom no man knew Galloway better?" "Did gipsies really steal children?" said Maid Margaret, with some apprehension. She was somewhat anxious, for an affirmative answer might interfere with certain wide operations in blackberrying which she was planning. "Sometimes they did, " I answered, "but not nearly so often as they were blamed for. They had usually enough mouths of their own to feed. So, unless they were sure of a ransom, or perhaps occasionally for the sake of revenge, gipsies very seldom were guilty of kidnapping. " "But they always do steal them in books, " said Hugh John; "well, I would just like to see them cart me off! And if they took Sir Toady Lion, they would soon send him back. He eats so much!" This was Hugh John's idea of a joke, and somewhat hastily I interrupted fraternal strife by returning to the general subject. "Adam Smith, a very learned man, who afterwards wrote _The Wealth of Nations_, was stolen by gipsies when a child, " I said. "_I_ wish they had just kept him, " said Hugh John, unexpectedly; "then we wouldn't have had to paraphrase the beastly thing at school. It is as full of jaw-breakers as a perch is full of bones. " "Was little Harry really stolen by gipsies, or was he killed over the cliff?" queried Maid Margaret. "Of course he was stolen, silly, " broke in Sir Toady Lion, sagely; "look how much more of the book there has got to be all about him. Think there would be all that, if he got killed right at the beginning, eh?" "Do any people smuggle nowadays?" demanded Hugh John. "Of course they do--in Spain, " interjected Sir Toady Lion, "father got put in prison there once. " "That was all owing to a mistake, " I explained hastily (for really this had nothing to do with Scott); "it was only because your parent happened to be wearing the same kind of hat as a certain well-known smuggler, a very desperate character. " "HUM-M!" said Sir Toady Lion, suddenly developing a cold in the nose. "Well, anyway, they do smuggle--though not much in this country now, " said Sweetheart, "and I'm glad father knew a man who smuggled in Spain. It makes this book so much more real. " "Getting put in prison instead of him made it almost _too_ real, " said Sir Toady. He is a most disconcerting and ironical boy. One often wonders where he gets it from. So to shut off further questioning, I proceeded immediately with the telling of the second tale from _Guy Mannering_. THE SECOND TALE FROM "GUY MANNERING" I. HAPPY DOMINIE SAMPSON IT was seventeen long years after the murder of Frank Kennedy and thedisappearance of little Harry Bertram when Guy Mannering, now a soldierfamous for his wars in the East, penetrated a second time into Galloway. His object was to visit the family of Ellangowan, and secretly, also, tofind out for himself in what way his random prophesies had worked out. But he arrived at an unfortunate time. He found that, chiefly by theplotting and deceit of a rascally lawyer, one Gilbert Glossin, theBertrams were on the point of being sold out of Ellangowan. All theirmoney had been lost, and the sale of the estate was being forced on bythe rascally lawyer Glossin for his own ends. The old man Godfrey Bertram also was very near his end. And indeed onthe very day of the sale, and while Mannering was paying his respects tohis former host, the sight of Glossin so enraged the feeble old man thathe was taken with a violent passion, falling back in his chair and dyingin a few minutes. Mannering, whose heart was greatly touched, was most anxious to do allthat he could to assist Lucy Bertram, the old man's daughter, but he wascompelled by an urgent summons to return into England. It had been hisintention to save the estate of Ellangowan from the clutches of thescoundrel Glossin by buying it himself, but the drunkenness of a postboywhom he had sent with a letter to Mr. Mac-Morlan, the lawyer in chargeof the sale, defeated his intentions, so that Ellangowan became theproperty of the traitor. So young Lucy Bertram and Dominie Sampson (whorefused to be separated from her) became for the moment inmates of Mr. Mac-Morlan's house. The Dominie found a pupil or two in theneighbourhood that he might not be chargeable to his dear Lucy or herfriend Mr. Mac-Morlan. And so, in the twenty-first year after the birthof an heir, and after Mannering's prophecy concerning him, there seemedan end to the ancient house of the Bertrams of Ellangowan. During these years, Colonel Mannering also had a tale to tell. Weddedearly to the wife of his youth and his heart, he had gone to India inthe service of the Honourable, the East India Company. There by hisvalour and talent he had rapidly acquired both wealth and position. Butduring the twenty-first year an event occurred which gave him a distastefor the land of his adoption, and he had come back to his native countrywith the idea of settling down, far away from old memories and newentanglements. In a duel which he had fought in India with a young man named Brown--abrave youth of no position, who had offended Mannering by his attentionsto his daughter, and by establishing himself in his house as a friend ofthe family--he had left Brown for dead on the field, hardly escapinghimself with his life from a sudden attack of the armed banditti who, inthe India of that day, were always hovering round desert places. Theshock of that morning had so told on the health of Mannering's wife thatshe died shortly afterwards, leaving him with one daughter, Julia--aproud, sprightly, sentimental girl, whom he had brought home, and placedunder the care of a friend named Mervyn, whose house stood upon one ofthe Cumberland lakes. So it came about that when Mannering was in Scotland, he received aletter from his friend which took him to Mervyn Hall as fast ashorse-flesh could carry him. His friend wrote, as he was careful to say, without his wife'sknowledge. Mr. Mervyn told Colonel Mannering that he was certain thathis daughter Julia was receiving secret visits from some one whom shedid not dare to see openly. Not only were there long solitary walks andhill-climbings, but on several occasions he had heard up the lake atmidnight, as if under her windows, a flageolet playing a little Indianair to which Julia Mannering was partial. This was evidently a signal, for a boat had been seen hastily crossing the lake, and the sash ofJulia's window had been heard to shut down at the first alarm. Mr. Mervyn said that, little as he liked playing the part of tale-bearer, hefelt that Julia was under his care, and he would not deserve his oldname of Downright Dunstable if he did not inform her father of what hehad discovered. Julia, he said, was both a charming and high spiritedgirl, but she was too much her own father's daughter to be withoutromantic ideas. On the whole, concluded Mr. Mervyn, it behooved theColonel to come at once to Mervyn Hall and look after his own property. This was the letter which, put into his hands at a seaport town inScotland, lost Mannering the estate of Ellangowan, and threw the ancientseat of many generations of Bertrams into the clutches of thescoundrelly Glossin. For Colonel Mannering instantly posted off to thesouth, having first of all sent despatches to Mr. Mac-Morlan by theuntrustworthy postilion--the same who arrived a day too late for thesale. When Colonel Mannering first went to Mervyn Hall, he could make nothingof the case. Of course he believed Brown to have died by his hand inIndia, and he could find no traces of any other man likely to be makinglove to his daughter. Nevertheless he had brought back a plan with himfrom Scotland, which, he thought, would put an end to all futuredifficulties. The helplessness of Lucy Bertram had moved his heart. Besides, he was more amused than he cared to own by the originality ofthe Dominie. He had easily obtained, by means of Mr. Mac-Morlan, afurnished house in the neighbourhood of Ellangowan, and he resolved fora time at least to repose himself there after his campaigns. Hisdaughter Julia would thus have a companion in Lucy Bertram, and it waseasy to provide the Dominie with an occupation. For the library of anuncle of Mannering's, who had been a learned bishop of the Church ofEngland, had been willed to him. The Dominie was the very man to put thebooks in order. So indeed it was arranged, after some saucy remarks fromMiss Mannering as to the supposed Scottish accent and probable red hairof her companion. Then Colonel Mannering, accustomed to do nothing by halves, sent downhis directions about Dominie Sampson, whose heart indeed would have beenbroken if he had been separated from the young mistress over whom he hadwatched from childhood. "Let the poor man be properly dressed, " wrote the Colonel to Mr. Mac-Morlan, "and let him accompany his young lady to Woodbourne!" The dressing of Dominie Sampson was, however, easier said than done. Forit would hurt the pride of the Dominie to have clothes presented to himas to a schoolboy. But Lucy Bertram soon settled the matter. TheDominie, she said, would never notice the difference, if they put onegarment at a time into his sleeping room and took away the other. Thiswas what her father had always done when the wardrobe of his dependentneeded renewing. Nor had the Dominie ever showed the least consciousnessof the change. So said, so done. A good tailor, having come and looked Mr. Sampsonover, readily agreed to provide him with two excellent suits, one blackand one raven grey, such as would fit the Dominie as well as a man ofsuch an out-of-the-way build could be fitted by merely human needles andshears. The Dominie, when completely equipped, made no remark upon thechange--further than that, in his opinion, the air of a seaport townlike Kippletringan seemed to be favourable to wearing-apparel. It was the depth of winter when the Mannerings arrived at Woodbourne. All were a little anxious. Even Dominie Sampson longed to be at hisbooks, and going repeatedly to the windows demanded, "Why tarry thewheels of their chariot?" But when at last they came, Lucy and JuliaBertram were soon friends, while the Dominie stood with uplifted hands, exclaiming, "Prodeegious! Prodeegious!" as, one after another, thethirty or forty cart-loads of books were deposited on the library floorready to his hand. His arms flapped like windmills, and the uncouthscholar counted himself the happiest man on earth as he began toarrange the great volumes on the shelves. Not that he got on veryquickly. For he wrote out the catalogue in his best running-hand. He putthe books on the shelves as carefully as if they had been old andprecious china. Yet in spite of the Dominie's zeal, his labours advancedbut slowly. Often he would chance to open a volume when halfway up theladder. Then, his eye falling upon some entrancing passage, he wouldstand there transfixed, oblivious of the flight of time, till aserving-maid pulled his skirts to tell him dinner was waiting. He wouldthen bolt his food in three-inch squares, and rush back to the library, often with his dinner napkin still tied round his neck like a pinafore. Thus, for the first time in his life, Dominie Sampson was perfectlycontent. [Illustration: "HIS eye falling upon some entrancing passage, he wouldstand there transfixed, oblivious of the flight of time, till aserving-maid pulled his skirts to tell him dinner was waiting. "] II. DANDIE DINMONT But the story now turns to the young man Brown, or, to give him his fulltitle, Captain Vanbeest Brown, whom Colonel Mannering had left for deadon an Indian field. He did not die, but he had been compelled toundergo a long captivity among the bandits before he found his way backto his regiment. The new Colonel whom he found in Mannering's place hadbeen kind to him, and he soon found himself in command of a troop ofdragoons. He was at present on leave in England, and, as he wasconscious that Mannering had no reason for his ill-will and apparentcruelty, Brown felt that he on his part had no reason for standing onceremony with such a man. He loved Julia Mannering, and, to say theleast of it, she did not discourage him. So it was he who had played theHindoo air upon the lake--he with whom Julia had talked at her window, even as Mervyn had related in his letter to his friend ColonelMannering. When the Colonel and his daughter went away to Scotland, Captain Brown, having no relatives in the country, resolved to follow them. He set outon foot, having for sole companion a little terrier named Wasp. On theway he had to pass a long and weary waste of heath and morass. One housealone broke the monotonous expanse. It was little better than a shed, but was sheltered by an ash tree, and a clay-built shed alongside servedfor a rude stable. A stout pony stood tethered in front of the door, busy with a feed of oats. Stillness brooded all around. It was a poorplace, but Captain Brown had wandered too far and seen too much to careabout appearances. He stooped his head and entered at the low door. Ina few minutes he found himself attacking a round of beef and washing itdown with home-brewed ale in company with the owner of the pony tetheredoutside, a certain Mr. Dandie Dinmont, a store-farmer on his way homefrom a Cumberland fair. At first only pleasant nods passed between themas they drank to each other in silence. Presently Brown noticed, seated in the great chimney, a very tall oldwoman clad in a red cloak and a slouched bonnet, having all theappearance of a gipsy or tinker. She smoked silently at her clay pipe, while the doubtful-looking landlady went about her affairs. Brown's terrier Wasp was the means of his striking up an acquaintancewith the sturdy farmer opposite, who, hearing that he had never seen ablackcock, invited him forthwith to Charlies-hope, the name of his farm, where he promised him he should both see blackcock, shoot blackcock, andeat blackcock. Dandie Dinmont was going on to tell Brown of hiswanderings, when the old crone in the red cloak by the side of the firesuddenly broke silence by asking if he had been recently in Galloway, and if he knew Ellangowan. "Ellangowan!" cried the farmer, "I ken it weel! Auld Laird Bertram diedbut a fortnight ago, and the estate and everything had to be sold forwant of an heir male. " The old gipsy (who, of course, was no other than Meg Merrilies) sprangat once to her feet. "And who dared buy the estate, when the bonny knave-bairn that heirs itmay any day come back to claim his ain?" "It was, I believe, " said Dandie Dinmont, "one of these writer bodiesthat buy up everything, --Gilbert Glossin by name!" "Ay, Gibbie Glossin, " said the old witch-wife, "mony a time I haecarried him in my creels. But maybe ye'll hae heard o' Derncleugh, abouta mile frae Ellangowan?" "And a wild-looking den it is, " said the farmer; "nothing but old ruinedwalls. " "It was a blithe bit once, " said the gipsy, as if talking to herself;"did ye notice if there was a willow tree half blown down, that hangsover the bit burnie? Mony is the time hae I sat there and knitted mystockin'. " "The deil's in the wife, " cried Dandie; "let me away! Here's saxpencefor ye to buy half-a-mutchkin, instead o' claverin' o' auld-worldtales. " The gipsy took the money from the farmer, and tendered in return thisadvice: "When Tib Mumps brings ye out the stirrup-cup, and asks yewhether ye will gang ower Willie's brae or by the Conscowthartmoss, besure to choose the road ye _dinna_ tell her. " The farmer laughed and promised. But to Brown he said that after all hewould rather that Tib Mumps kenned where he was going than yon gipsyqueen, so he would e'en hold on his way. Captain Brown soon followed on foot, but at the door he found himselfstopped by Meg Merrilies, who, with much earnestness, asked his name andfrom whence he came. "My name is Brown, " he answered, a little impatiently; "I come from theEast Indies. " [Illustration: "HE had not gone very far, and was still in the heart ofthe morass, when he saw his late companion of the ale-house engaged indeadly combat with a couple of rascals, one of them armed with acutlass, and the other with a bludgeon. "] The old gipsy appeared disappointed by his answer, and Brown put ashilling into her hand as he took his leave. However, he had not gonevery far, and was still in the heart of the morass, when he saw his latecompanion of the ale-house engaged in deadly combat with a couple ofrascals, one of them armed with a cutlass, and the other with abludgeon. Brown's terrier Wasp ran forward, barking furiously, butbefore Brown could come to his assistance the ruffians had got DandieDinmont down, and the man with the bludgeon bestowed some mercilessblows upon his head. Then with a shout they turned their attention toBrown, crying that "the first one was content. " But Brown was a staunchantagonist, and they soon found that they had met more than their match. Whereupon the leader bade him follow his nose over the heath, for thatthey had nothing to say to him. But, since to do this was to abandon Dandie Dinmont to their mercy, Brown refused point-blank. Affairs were at this pass when Dandie, staggering to his feet, his loaded whip in his hand, managed to come tothe assistance of his rescuer, whereupon the two men took to their heelsand ran as hard as they could over the moor. Then the farmer, who knew their ways, bade Brown mount behind him on hishorse Dumple, for he warned him that in five minutes "the wholeclanjamphrey" would be down upon them. And even as he spoke five or sixmen made their appearance, running toward them over the moss. But Dumplewas staunch, and by dint of following the safest roads, and being leftto pick his own way in the difficult places, Dandie's pony soon left thevillains behind him. Then, following the old Roman road, they reachedDinmont's farm of Charlies-hope, across the border, not long afternightfall. A furious barking from innumerable terriers and dogs of all breeds wastheir welcome. And soon Brown found himself within four hospitablewalls, where not only were his own wants satisfied, but the wounds ofthe master of the house were bound up by his buxom wife. At kindly Charlies-hope, Brown remained several days, while DandieDinmont showed him the best sport to be had upon the border. Togetherthey hunted the fox after the manner of the country--that is, treatingReynard as a thief and a robber, with whom no conditions are to beobserved. Together they went to the night fishing, where Brown heard theleisters or steel tridents ringing on the stones at the bottom of thewater, as the fishers struck at the salmon in the light of the blazingtorches kindled to attract the fish. Otter-hunting and badger-baitingfilled in the time, so that Brown had never been so well amused in hislife. But he begged from his host that the badger, which had made sogallant a defence, should be allowed henceforth to go scot-free. Dandiepromised with willingness, happy to oblige his guest, though quiteunable to understand why any one should "care about a brock. " When Browntold this hearty family that he must leave them, he was compelled topromise, over and over again, that he would soon return. The chorus ofDandie's tow-headed youngsters burst into one unanimous howl. "Come back again, Captain, " cried one sturdy little chap, "and Jennieshall be your wife. " Jennie, a girl of eleven, promptly ran and hid herself behind hermother. "Captain, come back, " said a little fat roll-about girl of six, holdingup her mouth to be kissed; "come back and I'll be your wife myainsel'!" It was hard to leave so hospitable a home to go where, to say the leastof it, one was not wanted. Especially was it so when the sturdy farmer, grasping Brown's hand, said with a certain shamefacedness, "There's apickle siller that I do not ken what to do wi', after Ailie has gottenher new goon and the bairns their winter duds. But I was thinking, thatwhiles you army gentlemen can buy yoursel's up a step. If ye wad tak thesiller, a bit scrape o' a pen wad be as guid to me. Ye could take yourain time about paying it back. And--and it would be a great convenienceto me. " Brown was much moved, but he could only thank his kind host heartily andpromise that in case of need he would not forget to draw upon his purse. So they parted, Brown leaving his little terrier Wasp to share bed andboard with the eldest of the Dinmont boys, who right willingly undertookthe task as a kind of security for his master's return. Dinmont conveyed his guest some distance, and afterward, from the firstDumfries-shire town which they entered, Brown took a carriage to carryhim part of the way in the direction of Woodbourne, where JuliaMannering was at present residing. III. IN THE LION'S MOUTH Night and mist stopped him after many miles of journeying. The postboyhad lost his way, and could offer no suggestions. Brown descended to seeif by chance, in this wild place, they were near any farm-house at whichhe could ask the way. Standing tiptoe upon a bank, it seemed as if hecould see in the distance a light feebly glimmering. Brown proceeded toward it, but soon found himself stumbling among ruinsof cottages, the side walls of which were lying in shapeless heaps, halfcovered with snow, while the gables still stood up gaunt and blackagainst the sky. He ascended a bank, steep and difficult, and foundhimself in front of a small square tower, from the chinks of which alight showed dimly. Listening cautiously, he heard a noise as of stifledgroaning. Brown approached softly, and looked through a long arrow-slit upon adismal scene. Smoke filled a wretched apartment. On a couch a man lay, apparently dying, while beside him, wrapped in a long cloak, a woman satwith bent head, crooning to herself and occasionally moistening thesufferer's lips with some liquid. "It will not do, " Brown heard her say at last "he cannot pass away withthe crime on his soul. It tethers him here. I must open the door. " As she did so she saw Brown standing without. He, on his part, recognised in the woman the gipsy wife whom he had seen on the Waste ofCumberland, when he and Dandie Dinmont had had their fight with therobbers. "Did I not tell you neither to mix nor mingle?" said the woman; "butcome in. Here is your only safety!" Even as she spoke, the head of the wounded man fell back. He was dead, and, before Brown could think of seeking safety in flight, they heard inthe distance the sound of voices approaching. "They are coming!" whispered the gipsy; "if they find you here, you area dead man. Quick--you cannot escape. Lie down, and, whatever you see orhear, do not stir, as you value your life. " Brown had no alternative but to obey. So the old gipsy wife covered himover with old sacks as he lay in the corner upon a couch of straw. Then Meg went about the dismal offices of preparing the dead man forburial, but Brown could see that she was constantly pausing to listen tothe sounds which every moment grew louder without. At last a gang offierce-looking desperadoes poured tumultuously in, their leader abusingthe old woman for leaving the door open. But Meg Merrilies had her answer ready. "Did you ever hear of a door being barred when a man was in thedeath-agony?" she cried. "Think ye the spirit could win away through allthese bolts and bars?" "Is he dead, then?" asked one of the ruffians, glancing in the directionof the bed. "Ay, dead enough, " growled another; "but here is the wherewithal to givehim a rousing lykewake!" And going to the corner he drew out a large jarof brandy, while Meg busied herself in preparing pipes and tobacco. Brown in his corner found his mind a little eased when he saw howeagerly she went about her task. "She does not mean to betray me, then!" he said to himself. Though forall that, he could see no gleam of womanly tenderness on her face, norimagine any reason she should not give him up to her associates. That they were a gang of murderers was soon evident from their talk. Theman, now wrapped in the dark sea-cloak, whose dead face looked down ontheir revels, was referred to as one who had often gloried in the murderof Frank Kennedy. But some of the others held that the deed was notwisely done, because after that the people of the country would not dobusiness with the smugglers. "It did up the trade for one while!" said one; "the people turnedrusty!" Then there were evident threats uttered against some one whose nameBrown did not hear. "I think, " said the leader of the ruffians, "that we will have to bedown upon the fellow one of these nights, and let him have it well!" After a while the carousing bandits called for what they called "BlackPeter. " It was time (they said) "to flick it open. " To Brown's surprise and indignation, Black Peter proved to be nothingelse than his own portmanteau, which gave him reasons for some very darkthoughts as to the fate of his postboy. He watched the rascals force hisbag open and coolly divide all that was in it among them. Yet he darednot utter a word, well aware that had he done so, the next moment aknife would have been at his throat. At last, to his great relief, Brown saw them make their preparations fordeparture. He was left alone with the dead man and the old woman. Meg Merrilies waited till the first sun of the winter's morn had come, lest one of the revellers of the night should take it into his head toturn back. Then she led Brown by a difficult and precipitous path, tillshe could point out to him, on the other side of some dense plantations, the road to Kippletringan. "And here, " said she, mysteriously putting a large leathern purse intohis hand, "is what will in some degree repay the many alms your househas given me and mine!" She was gone before he could reply, and when Brown opened the purse, hewas astonished to find in it gold to the amount of nearly one hundredpounds, besides many valuable jewels. The gipsy had endowed him with afortune. INTERLUDE OF LOCALITY "And all this happened here?" repeated Sweetheart, incredulously, pointing up at the dark purple mountains of Screel and Ben Gairn. "Well, " I answered, "Scott's Solway is the Dumfries Solway, not the Galloway Solway. Portanferry exists not far from Glencaple on the eastern bank of Nith, and the castle of Ellangowan is as like as possible to Caerlaverock. " "But he _says_ Galloway!" objected Sweetheart, who has a pretty persistence of her own. "And I wanted Ellangowan to be in Galloway. What with Carlyle having been born there, the Dumfries folk have quite enough to be proud of!" "Yes, Scott _says_ Ellangowan is in Galloway, " said I, "but nevertheless to any one who knows the country, it remains obstinately in Dumfries-shire. His swamps and morasses are those of Lochar. The frith is the Dumfries-shire Solway, the castle a Dumfries-shire castle, and what Scott put in of Galloway tradition was sent him by his friend the Castle Douglas exciseman. " "Oh!" said Sweetheart, a little ruefully, "but are you sure?" "Certain, " I answered, "if you consider time and distance from the border--say from Charlies-hope, you will see that Brown could not possibly have reached the heart of Galloway. Besides, Scott was far too wise a man to write about what he did not know. So he wove in Train's Galloway legends, but he put the people into his own well-kenned dresses, and set them to act their parts under familiar skies. Hence it is, that though the taste of Scott was never stronger than in _Guy Mannering_, the flavour of Galloway is somehow not in the mouth!" "What does it matter where it all happened?" cried Hugh John; "it is a rattling good tale, anyway, and if the Man-who-Wrote-It imagined that it all happened in Galloway, surely _we_ can!" This being both sensible and unanswerable, the party scattered to improvise old castles of Ellangowan, and to squabble for what was to them the only wholly desirable part, that of Dirk Hatteraick. The combat between the smuggler and the exciseman was executed with particular zeal and spirit, Sir Toady Lion prancing and curvetting, as Frank Kennedy, on an invisible steed, with Maid Margaret before him on the saddle. So active was the fight indeed, that the bold bad smuggler, Dirk, assailed as to the upper part of his body by Sir Toady, and with the Heir tugging at his legs, found himself presently worsted and precipitated over the cliff in place of Frank Kennedy. This ending considerably disarranged the story, so that it was with no little trouble that the pair of strutting victors were induced to "play by the book, " and to accept (severally) death and captivity in the hold of the smuggling lugger. On the other hand, after I had read the Twenty-seventh and Twenty-eighth Chapters of _Guy Mannering_ to them in the original, it was remarkable with what accuracy of detail Sweetheart wrapped a plaid about her and played the witch, Meg Merrilies, singing wild dirges over an imaginary dead body, while Hugh John hid among the straw till Sir Toady and Maid Margaret rushed in with incredible hubbub and sat down to carouse like a real gang of the most desperate characters. Seated on a barrel of gunpowder, Sir Toady declared that he smelt traitors in the camp, whereupon he held a (paper) knife aloft in the air, and cried, "If any deceive us or betray the gang, we will destroy them--_thus!_" "Yes, " chimed in the rosebud mouth of Maid Margaret, "and us will chop them into teeny-weeny little bits wif a sausage minchine, and feed them to our b-r-r-lood-hounds!" "Little monsters!" cried Sweetheart, for the moment forgetting her proper character of witch-wife. Nevertheless, all in the Kairn of Derncleugh were happy, save Hugh John, who declared that Scott's heroes were always getting put under soft cushions or up the chimney. "You can't really distinguish yourself, " he insisted, "in such situations!" And he referred once more to the luck of a certain Mr. James Hawkins, ship's boy, late of "Treasure Island. " "It's the nobodies that have all the fun--real heroes don't count!" he continued ruefully, as he dusted himself from the bits of straw. "Wait, " said I; "you have not heard the third tale from Guy Mannering. Then there will be lots for you to do!" "High time!" he answered with awful irony. THE THIRD TALE FROM "GUY MANNERING" THE RETURN OF DIRK HATTERAICK ONE event deeply stirred all Solway-side in the year of ColonelMannering's arrival at Woodbourne--the smugglers had returned in force, and proved themselves ripe for any desperate act. Their stronghold wasas of old, the Isle of Man, from which they could descend in a few hoursupon the Solway coasts. Stricter laws and more severe penalties had onlyrendered them fiercer than of old, and in case of need, they did nothesitate in the least to shed blood. As of yore also, their leader was the savage Dirk Hatteraick, under whomserved a Lieutenant named Brown. One of their first exploits was adaring attack upon the house of Woodbourne, where dwelt ColonelMannering with his daughter and Lucy Bertram. It happened thus. Mannering, in company with young Charles Hazlewood, was setting out for a loch some miles away to look at the skaters. Hazlewood had quite often come to visit the house of Woodbourne sinceLucy Bertram went to live there. Suddenly a few men, each leading aladen horse, burst through the bushes, and, pressing straight across thelawn, made for the front door. Mannering hastened to demand what theywanted. They were revenue officers, they said, and as they knew thatColonel Mannering had served in the East, they called upon him in theKing's name to protect them and their captures. To this Mannering instantly agreed. No time was to be lost. Thesmugglers were hot in pursuit, strongly reinforced. Immediately thegoods were piled in the hall. The windows were blocked up with cushions, pillows, and (what caused the Dominie many a groan) great folios out ofthe library, bound in wood, covered with leather, and studded withbrazen bosses like a Highland targe. While these preparations were being made within the house of Woodbournethe steady earth-shaking beat of a body of horsemen was heardapproaching, and in a few minutes a body of thirty mounted men rushedout upon the lawn, brandishing weapons and uttering savage yells. Mostof them had their heads tied up in coloured handkerchiefs, while manywore masks by way of disguising themselves. Finding the mansion in an unexpected state of defence, they halted amoment, as if to take counsel together. But finally one of them, hisface all blackened with soot, dismounted and came forward, waving awhite cloth in his hand. Colonel Mannering immediately threw up a window, and asked the smugglerwhat he wanted. "We want our goods, of which we have been robbed by these sharks, " criedthe man with the blackened face, "and we mean to have them. If you givethem up, we will go away quietly without harming any one, but if yourefuse, then we will burn the house and have the life-blood of everysoul under your roof. " This he swore with many horrible and cruel oaths. "If you do not instantly ride off my lawn, " answered Colonel Mannering, "I will fire upon you without any further warning!" The Ambassador returned to his troop, and no sooner had he told them theColonel's answer than they rushed forward to the attack with horridyells. Three volleys were fired, shattering the window-glass in alldirections, but, thanks to the Colonel's preparations, the slugs andbullets rattled harmlessly against his defences. Many of the smugglersnow dismounted and advanced with axe and crow-bar to force the frontdoor. It was time for those within to take action. "Let only Charles Hazlewood and myself shoot!" said the Colonel, "Hazlewood, do you mark the Ambassador. I will take the commander of therascals--the man on the grey horse, whom they call their Lieutenant!" Both men fell as the shots rang out. Astonished by this reception, thesmugglers retreated, carrying with them their wounded. It was one ofthese whom Captain Brown saw die in the little ruined keep at Derncleughthe night when he was overtaken in the darkness--indeed, that verynamesake of his own, Brown, the mate of Hatteraick's vessel. There were many who thought that after this Captain Mannering ought toremove his family out of danger. But that gentleman confined himself totaking greater precautions at locking-up time, and insisting that whenthe ladies went out walking, a gun should be carried by an attendant fortheir protection. One day Julia Mannering and Lucy Bertram had gone out with young CharlesHazlewood to visit a small lake much frequented by skaters and curlers, while a servant followed behind with a gun. It chanced that Lucy, who never kept Hazlewood's arm when she couldavoid it, had dropped behind as they were passing along a narrow paththrough a pine plantation. Julia Mannering was therefore alone atCharles Hazlewood's side when Brown suddenly appeared from among thetrees, right in their path. He was roughly dressed, and youngHazlewood, taking him for one of the smugglers, and mistaking themeaning of Julia's cry of surprise at seeing her lover, snatched the gunfrom the servant, and haughtily ordered Brown to stand back so as not toalarm the lady. Brown, piqued at finding Julia on the arm of a stranger, replied as haughtily that he did not require to take lessons fromHazlewood how to behave to any lady. Instantly Charles Hazlewood pointedthe gun at his breast. Upon which Brown sprang upon him, and in thestruggle the gun went off by accident, and Hazlewood fell to the groundwounded. Brown, anxious not to bring Julia Mannering into the affair, atonce sprang over the hedge and disappeared. [Illustration: "HE was roughly dressed, and young Hazlewood, taking himfor one of the smugglers, and mistaking the meaning of Julia's cry ofsurprise at seeing her lover, snatched the gun from the servant, andhaughtily ordered Brown to stand back so as not to alarm the lady. "] Hazlewood's wound was, happily, not serious, and being an honest openyoung fellow, he was the first to own himself in the wrong. Nothing ofimportance would have come of the affair, but for the officiousness ofGlossin, the new Laird of Ellangowan, who saw in it a way ofingratiating himself with the two powerful families of Mannering andHazlewood. Glossin began by questioning the landlady of the hotel where Brown hadbeen staying. Then he tried to draw out the postboy. From them hegathered little, save the fact that a young man named Brown had beenstaying at the Gordon Arms at Kippletringan. On the day of the accidentto Charles Hazlewood, Brown had taken the postboy with him to show himthe skating and curling on the pond in the neighbourhood of which thesupposed attack had taken place. Jock Jabos, the postboy, however, denied that "the stoutest man in Scotland could take a gun frae him andshoot him wi' it, though he was but a feckless little body, fit only forthe outside o' a saddle or the fore-end of a post-chaise. Na, nae livingman wad venture on the like o' that!" So Glossin, in order the better to carry out his plans, pretended tobelieve that Brown was the Lieutenant of the gang which had assaultedthe house of Woodbourne. Much more to the point was the information which was waiting for Glossinon his return to his house of Ellangowan. Mac-Guffog, the countythief-taker, and two of his people were there. With them they hadbrought a prisoner, whom they had first beguiled into drink, and theneasily handcuffed while asleep. Glossin was delighted. He was under agreat hope that this might prove to be Brown himself. Instead, herecognised an old acquaintance--no other than Dirk Hatteraick, thesmuggler. In the interview which followed, Dirk told Glossin some factswhich made him tremble. His possession of Ellangowan was threatened. Thetrue heir, the young lad Harry Bertram, lost on the night of the murderof Frank Kennedy, had not perished as had been supposed. He had beenbrought up by the principal partner of the Dutch firm to which he hadbeen bound apprentice, sent to the East Indies under the name ofVanbeest Brown, and he was at that very moment upon the coast ofSolway--it might be very near to Ellangowan itself. Glossin saw his hopes wither before his eyes. If the heir should findout his rights, then the fruits of his villany, the estate of Ellangowanitself, must return to its true owner. The lawyer secretly gave DirkHatteraick a small file with which to rid himself of his irons, and thenbade his captors confine him in the strong-room of the ancient castle. "The stanchions are falling to pieces with rust, " he whispered to Dirk, "the distance to the ground is not twelve feet, and the snow lies thick. After that, you must steal my boat which lies below in the cove, andwait till I come to you in the cave of the Wood of Warroch!" So saying, he called the thief-takers in, and made his arrangements. Glossin could not sleep that night. Eagerly he watched the window of theold castle. He heard the iron bars fall outward upon the rocks with aclinking sound, and feared that all was lost. The light in the windowwas obscured, and presently he saw a black object drop upon the snow. Then the little boat put out from the harbour, the wind caught the sail, and she bore away in the direction of Warroch Point. On the morrow, however, he overwhelmed Mac-Guffog with the full force ofhis anger for his carelessness in allowing his prisoner to escape. Thenhe sent his men off in different directions, as fast as they could, toretake Hatteraick--in all directions, that is, except the true one. Having thus disposed of the thief-takers, he set out for Warroch Headalone. But the marks of his feet in the snow startled him. Any officer, coming upon that trail, would run it up like a bloodhound. So he changedhis path, descending the cliff, and making his way cautiously along thesea-beach where the snow did not lie. He passed the great boulder whichhad fallen with Frank Kennedy. It was now all overgrown with mussels andseaweed. The mouth of the cave opened black and dismal before him. Glossin drew breath before entering such a haunt of iniquity, andrecharged his pistols. He was, however, somewhat heartened by thethought that Dirk Hatteraick had nothing to gain by his death. Finallyhe took courage to push forward, and immediately the voice of Hatteraickcame hoarse from the back of the cave. "Donner and hagel! Be'st du?" he growled. "Are you in the dark?" said Glossin, soothingly. "Dark? Der deyvel, ay!" retorted Hatteraick, "where should I get a glim?I am near frozen also! Snow-water and hagel--I could only keep myselfwarm by tramping up and down this vault and thinking on the merry rouseswe used to have here!" Glossin made a light, and having set down the little lantern which hecarried, he gathered together some barrel-staves and driftwood. Theflame showed Hatteraick's fierce and bronzed visage as he warmed hissinewy hands at the blaze. He sat with his face thrust forward andactually in the smoke itself, so great had been his agony of cold. Whenhe was a little warmed up, Glossin gave him some cold meat and a flaskof strong spirits. Hatteraick eagerly seized upon these, exclaiming, after a long draught, "Ah, that is good--that warms the liver!" After the liquor and the food had put the smuggler into a somewhatbetter temper, the two associates settled themselves to discuss theproject which had brought Glossin to the Cave of the Warroch Point. Up to the present, Glossin had believed that the Vanbeest Brown who hadwounded young Hazlewood was the mate of the smuggling lugger. But now, hearing that this Brown had been shot on the night of the Woodbourneattack, all at once a light broke upon him. The assailant could be noother than the rightful heir of Ellangowan, Harry Bertram. "If he is on this coast, " he meditated, half to himself, "I can have himarrested as the leader of the attack upon Woodbourne, and also for anassault upon Charles Hazlewood!" "But, " said Dirk Hatteraick, grimly, "he will be loose again upon you, as soon as he can show himself to carry other colours!" "True, friend Hatteraick, " said Glossin; "still, till that is proved, Ican imprison him in the custom-house of Portanferry, where your goodsare also stowed. You and your crew can attack the custom-house, regainyour cargo, and--" "Send the heir of Ellangowan to Jericho--or the bottom of the sea!"cried Hatteraick, with fierce bitterness. "Nay, I advise no violence, " said Glossin, softly, looking at theground. "Nein--nein, " growled the smuggler; "you only leave that to me. Sturm-wetter, I know you of old! Well, well, if I thought the tradewould not suffer, I would soon rid you of this younker--as soon, thatis, as you send me word that he is under lock and key!" * * * * * It so happened that at the very moment when Colonel Mannering andDominie Sampson had gone to Edinburgh to see after an inheritance, Brown, or rather young Bertram (to give his real name), had succeeded incrossing the Solway in a sailing-boat, and was safe in Cumberland. Mannering's mission was one of kindliness to his guest, Lucy Bertram. Her aunt, old Miss Bertram of Singleside, had formerly made Lucy herheiress, and the Colonel hoped that she might have continued of thisexcellent mind. By Mr. Mac-Morlan's advice he engaged a whimsical butable Scottish lawyer to go with him to the opening of the will--at whichceremony, among other connections of the deceased, Dandie Dinmont wasalso present. But all were disappointed. For Miss Bertram had put herwhole property in trust on behalf of the lost heir of Ellangowan, youngHarry Bertram, whom (said the will) she had good reason for believing tobe still alive. The object of all these plots and plans, good and evil intentions, was, however, safe in Cumberland. And had he been content to stay where hewas, safe he would have remained. But as soon as young Bertram arrivedupon the English coast he had written to Julia Mannering to explain hisconduct in the affair with Hazlewood, to the Colonel of his regiment toask him for the means of establishing his identity as a Captain in oneof his Majesty's dragoon regiments, to his agent to send him a sum ofmoney, and in the meantime to Dandie Dinmont for a small temporary loantill he could hear from his man-of-affairs. So he had nothing to do but wait. However, a sharp reply from JuliaMannering stung him to the quick. In this she first of all informed himthat the Colonel would be from home for some days, then reproached himfor the hastiness of his conduct, and concluded by saying that he wasnot to think of returning to Scotland. This last was, of course, what Bertram at once proceeded to do, asperhaps the young lady both hoped and anticipated. So once more the heir of Ellangowan was set ashore beneath the oldcastle which had been built by his forefathers. He had worked hispassage manfully, and it was with regret that the sailors put him ashorein the bay directly beneath the Auld Place of Ellangowan. Someremembrance came across him, drifting fitfully over his mind, thatsomehow he was familiar with these ruins. When he had entered and lookedabout him, this became almost a certainty. It chanced that lawyerGlossin had entered the castle at about the same time, coming, as hesaid aloud, to see "what could be made of it as a quarry of good hewnstone, " and adding that it would be better to pull it down at any rate, than to preserve it as a mere haunt of smugglers and evil-doers. "And would you destroy this fine old ruin?" said Bertram, who hadoverheard the last part of Glossin's remarks. The lawyer was struckdumb, so exactly were the tone and attitude those of Harry Bertram'sfather in his best days. Indeed, coming suddenly face to face with theyoung man there within the ancient castle of Ellangowan, it seemed toGlossin as if Godfrey Bertram had indeed risen from the dead to denounceand punish his treachery. But the lawyer soon recovered himself. The scheme he had worked outtogether with Dirk Hatteraick matured in his mind, and this seemed asgood a time as any for carrying it out. So he waited only for the comingof two of his thief-takers to lay hands on Bertram, and to send word tothe father of Charles Hazlewood that he held the would-be murderer ofhis son at his disposition. Now Sir Robert Hazlewood was a formal old dunderhead, who was of opinionthat his family, and all connected with it, were the only reallyimportant things in the universe. Still when the prisoner was broughtbefore him, he was a good deal startled by Bertram's quiet assurance, and, in spite of Glossin's sneers, could not help being influenced bythe information that Colonel Guy Mannering could speak to the fact ofhis being both an officer and a gentleman. But Glossin pointed out thatMannering was in Edinburgh, and that they could not let a possiblemalefactor go merely because he said that he was known to an absentman. It was, therefore, arranged that, pending the arrival of theColonel, Harry Bertram (or Captain Vanbeest Brown) should be confined inthe custom-house at Portanferry, where there was a guard of soldiers forthe purpose of guarding the goods taken from the smugglers. Happy that his schemes were prospering so well, Glossin went off toarrange with Dirk Hatteraick for the attack, and also as to the removalof the soldiers, in such a way that no suspicion might fall upon thathonourable gentleman, Mr. Gilbert Glossin, Justice of the Peace andpresent owner of Ellangowan. * * * * * Meanwhile, however, the emissaries of Meg Merrilies were not idle. Theybrought her the earliest information that the heir of Ellangowan was inthe custom-house at Portanferry, and in imminent danger of his life. Faron the hills of Liddesdale one Gibbs Faa, a gipsy huntsman, warnedDandie Dinmont that if he wished his friend well, he had better takehorse and ride straight for Portanferry--where, if he found Brown inconfinement, he was to stay by him night and day. For if he did not, hewould only regret it once--and that would be for his whole life. Glossin's plan was to work on the fears of the stupid pompous Sir RobertHazlewood, so that he would summon all the soldiers for the defence ofHazlewood House, in the belief that it was to be assaulted by thegipsies and smugglers. But Meg Merrilies herself sent young CharlesHazlewood to order the soldiers back, in which mission he would havesucceeded but for the dull persistence of his father. However, Mr. Mac-Morlan, as Sheriff-Substitute of the county, was able to do that inspite of Sir Robert's protest which the good sense of his son had beenpowerless to effect. The soldiers left Hazlewood House, and took thedirect road back to Portanferry in spite of Sir Robert's threats andremonstrances. Lastly Colonel Mannering, but recently returned from Edinburgh, waswarned by a missive which Dominie Sampson had brought from Meg herself. So that on one particular night all the forces of order, as well asthose of disorder, were directing themselves toward the custom-house ofPortanferry, where in a close and ignoble apartment Harry Bertram andhis worthy friend, Dandie Dinmont, were sleeping. It was Bertram whowakened first. There was a strong smell of burning in the room. From thewindow he could see a crowded boat-load of men landing at the littleharbour, and in the yard below a huge mastiff was raging on his chain. "Go down and let loose the dog!" the wife of Mac-Guffog called to herhusband; "I tell you they are breaking in the door of the liquor store!" But the good man appeared to be more anxious about his prisoners. Hewent from cell to cell, making sure that all was safe, while his wife, affirming that he had not the heart of a chicken, descended herself intothe courtyard. In the meantime, Bertram and Dandie watched from their barred window thesavage figures of the smugglers triumphantly loading their boats withtheir recovered goods, while the whole custom-house flamed to theheavens, sending sparks and blazing fragments upon the roof of theadjoining prison. Soon at the outer gate was heard the thunder of sledge-hammers andcrows. It was being forced by the smugglers. Mac-Guffog and his wife hadalready fled, but the underlings delivered the keys, and the prisonerswere soon rejoicing in their liberty. In the confusion, four or five ofthe principal actors entered the cell of Bertram. "Der deyvil, " exclaimed the leader, "here's our mark!" Two of them accordingly seized Bertram and hurried him along. One ofthem, however, whispered in his ear to make no resistance for thepresent--also bidding Dinmont over his shoulder to follow his friendquietly and help when the time came. Bertram found himself dragged alongpassages, through the courtyard, and finally out into the narrow street, where, in the crowd and confusion, the smugglers became somewhatseparated from each other. The sound of cavalry approaching rapidly madeitself heard. "Hagel and wetter!" cried the leader, no other than Hatteraick himself, "what is that? Keep together--look to the prisoner!" But, for all that, the two who held Bertram were left last of the party. The crowd began to break, rushing this way and that. Shots were fired, and above the press the broadswords of the dragoons were seen toglitter, flashing over the heads of the rioters. "Now, " whispered the man who had before advised Bertram to be quiet, "shake off that fellow and follow me. " Bertram easily did so, and his left-hand captor, attempting to draw apistol, was instantly knocked senseless by the huge fist of DandieDinmont. "Now, follow quick!" said the first, diving at the word into a dirty andnarrow lane. There was no pursuit. Mr. Mac-Morlan and the soldiers hadappeared in the nick of time. The smugglers had enough to do to providefor their own safety. At the end of the lane they found a post-chaise with four horses. "Are you here, in God's name?" cried their guide. "Ay, troth am I, " said Jock Jabos; "and I wish I were ony gate else!" The guide opened the carriage door. "Get in, " he said to Bertram, "and remember your promise to the gipsywife!" Through the windows of the coach Dinmont and he could see the village ofPortanferry, and indeed the whole landscape, brilliantly lighted by atall column of light. The flames had caught the stores of spirits keptin the custom-house. But soon the carriage turned sharply through darkwoods at the top speed of the horses, and, after a long journey, finallydrew up in front of a mansion, in the windows of which lights stillburned, in spite of the lateness of the hour. * * * * * The listening children remained breathless as I paused. I had meant this to be the end of my tale, but I saw at once that no excuse would be held valid for such a shameful dereliction of duty. "Go on--go on, " they cried; "where was the house and what happened?" "I know!" said Sweetheart; "it was the house of Julia Mannering, and her lover--" "Oh, bother her lover, " cried Hugh John, impatiently; "_we_ don't want to hear about how they lived happy ever after. Tell us about the gipsy, Meg Merrilies--" "And about Dirk Hatteraick!" said Sir Toady Lion, getting his word in. "I just love Dirk!" "And how many people he killed wif his big knife, and if he was burnt up alive in the fire!" For Maid Margaret also delights in the most gory details, though she would not willingly tread upon a worm. "Yes, go on, tell us all--everything that happened!" said Sweetheart. "But do skip the lovering parts, " cried the boys in chorus. So within these statutes of limitation I had perforce to recommence, without further preface, telling the fourth and last tale from _Guy Mannering_. THE FOURTH TALE FROM "GUY MANNERING" THE FIGHT IN THE CAVE IMMEDIATELY upon receiving the message of Meg Merrilies, brought byDominie Sampson, Colonel Mannering had sent a carriage to the placedesignated. Bertram and his companion Dandie, having by the help of thegipsies, Meg's companions, made good their escape from the burningcustom-house, took their places in it and were whirled through thedarkness, they knew not whither. But it was at the door of the house ofWoodbourne that they found themselves. Mr. Pleydell, the lawyer, hadalso arrived from Edinburgh, so that all were presently met together inthe drawing-room, and it is difficult to say which of the party appearedthe most surprised. In Captain Brown (or Harry Bertram, to call him by his own proper name), Colonel Mannering saw the man whom he had believed slain by his hand inIndia. Julia met her lover in her father's house, and apparently thereby his invitation. Dominie Sampson stood half aghast to recognise thelost heir of Ellangowan. Bertram himself feared the effect which hissudden appearance might have on Julia, while honest Dandie wished histhick-soled boots and rough-spun Liddesdale plaid anywhere else than ina room filled with ladies and gentlemen. Only the lawyer, Mr. Pleydell, was wholly master of the situation, andbustled about, putting everybody at their ease. He saw himself in thethick of a great mysterious lawsuit which he alone could unravel, and heproceeded on the spot to cross-examine Bertram as to what he rememberedof his life before he went to Holland. Bertram remembered, he said, quite clearly, a good-looking gentlemanwhom he had called father, a delicate lady who must have been hismother, but more distinctly than either he recalled a tall man in wornblack who had taught him his lessons and whom he loved for his kindness. At these words Dominie Sampson could contain himself no longer. He rosehastily from his chair, and with clasped hands and trembling limbs criedout, "Harry Bertram--look at me! Was not I the man?" Bertram started up as if a sudden light had dawned upon him. "Yes, " he cried, "that is my name--Bertram--Harry Bertram! And those arethe voice and figure of my kind old master!" The Dominie threw himself into his arms, his whole frame shaking withemotion, and at last, his feelings overcoming him, he lifted up hisvoice and wept. Even Colonel Mannering had need of his handkerchief. Pleydell made wry faces and rubbed hard at his glasses, while DandieDinmont, after two strange blubbering explosions, fairly gave way andcried out, "Deil's in the man! He's garred me do what I haena done sincemy auld mither died!" After this, the examination went on more staidly. Bertram said that heremembered very well the walk he had taken with the Dominie and somebodylifting him up on horseback--then, more indistinctly, a scuffle in whichhe and his guide had been pulled from the saddle. Vaguely and graduallythe memory came back of how he had been lifted into the arms of a verytall woman who protected him from harm. Again he was a poor half-starvedcabin-boy in the Holland trade. Quickly, however, gaining the good-willof the leading partner of the firm to which the vessel belonged, he hadbeen thoroughly well educated in Holland, before being sent to seek hisfortune in India. He passed over his career there, but told in detailthe accidental way in which young Hazlewood had been wounded, and endedby a request that he should now be told who the questioner might be whotook such an interest in his affairs. "Why, for myself, sir, " answered the counsellor, "I am Paulus Pleydell, an advocate at the Scottish bar. And as for you, it is not easy for themoment to say who you are. But I trust in a short time to hail you bythe title of Henry Bertram, Esquire, representative of one of the oldestfamilies in Scotland, and heir of entail to the estates of Ellangowan. " On the morrow the plotting at Woodbourne still went on merrily, aroundthe person of the newly found heir. The counsellor-at-law arranged hisplan of campaign. The Dominie, having left Harry Bertram at half-textand words of two syllables when he was carried off in Warroch Wood, prepared to take up his education at that exact point. "Of a surety, little Harry, " he said, "we will presently resume ourstudies. We will begin from the foundation. Yes, I will reform youreducation upward from the true knowledge of English grammar, even tothat of the Hebrew or Chaldaic tongue!" In the meantime, Colonel Mannering, having first had an interview withthe counsellor in his room, gently drew from Julia that it was no otherthan Bertram who had spoken with her under her window at Mervyn Hall;also that, though she had remained silent, she had perfectly recognisedhim before the scuffle took place with young Hazlewood at the pond. Forthese concealments from her father, Mannering as gently forgave her, andreceived in return a promise that, in future, she would hide nothingfrom him which it concerned him to know. The first step of the conspirators was to obtain a legal release forBertram from Sir Robert Hazlewood, who granted it most unwillingly, having (it was evident) been secretly primed by Glossin as to what heshould say and do. But it was secured at last, upon Colonel Mannering'spledging his word of honour for his appearance. And while the businesswas being settled, Harry Bertram, with the two ladies, wandered out to aknoll above the ancient castle of Ellangowan to look once again upon thehome of his ancestors. They were standing here, looking on the crumbling walls, when suddenly, as if emerging from the earth, Meg Merrilies ascended from the hollowway beneath, and stood before them. "I sought ye at the house, " she said, "but ye are right and I was wrong. It is here we should meet--here, on the very spot where my eyes last sawyour father. And now, remember your promise and follow me!" In spite of the unwillingness of Lucy and Julia to allow him to departwith such a companion, Bertram and Dandie (for Meg invited Dinmont alsoto follow her) hastened to obey the gipsy's summons. There was somethingweird in the steady swiftness of her gait as she strode right forwardacross the moor, taking no heed either of obstacle or of well-troddenpath. She seemed like some strange withered enchantress drawing menafter her by her witchcrafts. But Julia and Lucy were somewhat comfortedby the thought that if the gipsy had meditated any evil against Bertram, she would not have asked so doughty a fighter as Dandie Dinmont toaccompany him. They therefore made the best of their way home, and while they weretelling the adventure to the Colonel, young Hazlewood, who happened tobe at Woodbourne, courageously offered to follow after, to see that noharm came to Dandie and his former antagonist. Meg Merrilies led them through the wood of Warroch, along the same pathby which Harry had been carried on the night of the exciseman's murder. Turning for a moment, she asked Bertram if he remembered the way. "Not very clearly!" he answered. "Ay, " she said, "here was the very spot where Frank Kennedy was pulledfrom his horse. I was hiding behind the bour-tree bush at the moment. Sair, sair he strove and sair he cried for mercy. But he was in thehands of them that never kenned the word. " Continuing her way, she led them downward to the sea by a secret andrugged path, cut in the face of the cliff, and hidden among brushwood. There on the shore lay the stone under which the body of Frank Kennedyhad been found crushed. A little farther on was the cave itself in whichthe murderers had concealed themselves. The gipsy pointed mysteriously. "He is there, " she said, in a low voice, "the man who alone canestablish your right--Jansen Hatteraick, the tyrant of your youth, andthe murderer of Frank Kennedy. Follow me--I have put the fire betweenyou. He will not see you as you enter, but when I utter the words, 'TheHour and the Man'--then do you rush in and seize him. But be prepared. It will be a hard battle, for Hatteraick is a very devil!" "Dandie, you must stand by me now!" said Bertram to his comrade. "That ye need never doubt, " returned the Borderer; "but a' the same it'san awesome thing to leave the blessed sun and free air, and gang and bekilled like a fox in his hole. But I'll never baulk ye--it'll be ahard-bitten terrier that will worry Dandie!" So forward they went, creeping cautiously on all fours after the gipsywoman. When they were about halfway in, a hand was laid on DandieDinmont's heel, and it was all the stout farmer could do to keep fromcrying out--which, in the defenceless position in which they wereplaced, might well have cost them all their lives. However, Dandie freed his ankle with a kick, and instantly a voicebehind him whispered, "It is a friend--Charles Hazlewood!" As soon as they had gained the higher part of the cave, Meg Merriliesbegan rustling about among the dried branches, murmuring and singing, tocover the noise made by the entrance of the three men who followed her. From the deep dark where they stood, they could see Dirk Hatteraick atthe farther end of the cave, behind a fire which he was continuallybuilding up by throwing into it bits of dried sticks. Hatteraick was ofpowerful build, and his features were beyond description savage andrugged. A cutlass hung by his side, and into his belt he had thrust, ready to his hand at a moment's notice, two pairs of pistols. Truly thecapture of Dirk Hatteraick was no light adventure, and Bertram, havingbeen warned by Dandie in a cautious whisper of Hazlewood's arrival, thought within himself that they would be none the worse of the thirdwho had come so opportunely to their assistance. "Here, beldam--deyvil's kind, " cried Hatteraick in his harshest voice, "have you brought me the brandy and news of my people?" "Here is the flask for you, " answered Meg, passing it to him; "but asfor your crew, they are all cut down and scattered by the redcoats!" "Storm and wetter, ye hag, " he cried, "ye bring ill news. This coast isfatal to me! And what of Glossin?" "Ye missed your stroke there, " she said; "ye have nothing to expect fromhim!" "Hagel, " cried the ruffian, "if only I had him by the throat! He has ledme to perdition--men lost, boat lost, credit lost. I dare never show myface in Flushing again!" "_You will never need!_" croaked the gipsy. Meg's sombre prophecy startled Hatteraick. He looked up suddenly. "What is that you say, witch? And what are you doing there?" he cried. Meg dropped a firebrand steeped in spirit upon some loose flax. Instantly a tall column of brilliant wavering light filled the cave. "Ye will never need to go to Flushing, " she said, "because 'The Hour'scome and the Man!'" At the signal, Bertram and Dandie Dinmont, springing over the brushwood, rushed upon Hatteraick. Hazlewood, not knowing the plan of assault, wasa moment later. The ruffian instantly understood that he had beenbetrayed, and the first brunt of his anger fell upon Meg Merrilies, atwhose breast he fired a pistol point-blank. She fell with a shriek whichwas partly the sudden pain of the wound, and partly a shout oftriumphant laughter. "I kenned it would end that way--and it is e'en this way that it shouldend!" Bertram had caught his foot on some slippery weed as he advanced, andthe chance stumble saved his life. For otherwise Hatteraick's secondbullet, aimed coolly and steadily, would certainly have crashed throughhis skull. Before he could draw a third, Dandie Dinmont was upon him. Yet such was the giant smuggler's strength and desperation, that heactually dragged Dandie through the burning flax, before Bertram andHazlewood could come to the farmer's assistance. Then in a moment moreHatteraick was disarmed and bound, though to master him took all thestrength of three strong well-grown men. After he had been once bound securely, Hatteraick made no furtherattempt to escape. He lay perfectly still while Bertram, leaving Dandieto guard his prisoner, went to look to Meg Merrilies. The soldier, familiar with gunshot wounds, knew at once that her case was hopeless. But he did what he could to bind up the old gipsy's wound, whileDandie, his hand laid heavily on Hatteraick's breast, watched pistol inhand the entrance of the cave. Hazlewood, whose horse had been tiedoutside, mounted to ride for assistance, and in a few moments silencefell on the scene of so fierce a combat, broken only by the low moans ofthe wounded gipsy. It was no more than three-quarters of an hour that Bertram and DandieDinmont had to keep their watch. But to them it seemed as if ages hadpassed before Hazlewood returned and they were clear of the fatalcavern. Hatteraick allowed himself to be removed without eitherassisting or hindering those who had charge of him. But when his captorswould have had him rest against the huge boulder which had been throwndown along with the murdered exciseman, Hatteraick shrank back with ashout: "Hagel--not there, " he cried, "you would not have me sit _there!_" On the arrival of a doctor, he could only confirm Bertram's opinion thatMeg Merrilies was indeed wounded to the death. But she had enoughstrength left to call the assembled people to witness that Bertram wasindeed young Harry Bertram the lost heir of Ellangowan. "All who have ever seen his father or grandfather, bear witness if he isnot their living image!" she cried. Then with her failing breath she told the tale of the murder, and howshe had pleaded for the child's life. She dared Dirk Hatteraick to denythe truth of what she was saying. But the villain only kept his grimsilence. Then suddenly the enthusiasm broke forth at the chancetestimony of the driver of a return coach to Kippletringan, whoexclaimed at sight of Bertram, "As sure as there's breath in man, there's auld Ellangowan risen from the dead!" The shouts of the people, many of whom had lived all their lives on his father's land, camegratefully to the ear of the dying woman. "Dinna ye hear?" she cried, "dinna ye hear? He's owned--he's owned! I ama sinfu' woman! It was my curse that brought the ill, but it has been myblessing that has ta'en it off! Stand oot o' the light that I may seehim yince mair. But no--it may not be! The darkness is in my ain e'en. It's a' ended now: "Pass breath, Come death!" And sinking back on her bed of straw, Meg Merrilies died without agroan. * * * * * Mr. Pleydell having, as Sheriff of the county, formerly conducted theinquiry into Frank Kennedy's death, was asked by the other magistratesto preside at this. The meeting was held in the court-house ofKippletringan, and many of the chief people in the neighbourhoodhastened to the little town to be present at the examination ofHatteraick. Pleydell, among the evidence formerly collected, had by himthe sizes and markings of the footmarks found round the place of FrankKennedy's death-struggle. These had, of course, been safely preserved, ever since the failure of justice on that occasion. One set evidentlybelonged to a long and heavy foot, and fitted the boots of Brown, themate of Hatteraick's vessel, the same who had been killed at the attackon Woodbourne. The stouter and thicker moulds fitted those of theprisoner himself. At this Hatteraick cried out suddenly, "Der deyvil, how could there befootmarks at all on the ground when it was as hard as the heart of aMemel log?" Instantly Pleydell noted the smuggler's slip. "In the evening, " he said, "I grant you the ground was hard--not, however, in the morning. But, Captain Hatteraick, will you kindly tellme where you were on the day which you remember so exactly?" Hatteraick, seeing his mistake, again relapsed into silence, and at thatmoment Glossin bustled in to take his place on the bench with hisbrother magistrates. He was, however, very coldly received indeed, though he did his best to curry favour with each in succession. EvenHatteraick only scowled at him, when he suggested that "the poor man, being only up for examination, need not be so heavily ironed. " "The poor man has escaped once before, " said Mr. Mac-Morlan, drily. Butsomething worse was in store for Glossin than the cold shoulder from hisfellow-justices. In his search through the documents found uponHatteraick, Pleydell had come upon three slips of paper, being billswhich had been drawn and signed by Hatteraick on the very day of theKennedy murder, ordering large sums of money to be paid to Glossin. Thebills had been duly honoured. Mr. Pleydell turned at once upon Glossin. "That confirms the story which has been told by a second eye-witness ofthe murder, one Gabriel, or Gibbs Faa, a nephew of Meg Merrilies, thatyou were an accessory after the fact, in so far as, though you did nottake part in the slaughter of Kennedy, you concealed the guilty personson account of their giving you this sum of money. " In a few minutes Glossin found himself deserted by all, and he was evenordered to be confined in the prison of Kippletringan, in a roomimmediately underneath the cell occupied by Hatteraick. The smuggler, being under the accusation of murder and having once already escaped, was put for safety in the dungeon, called the "condemned cell, " andthere chained to a great bar of iron, upon which a thick ring ran fromone side of the room to the other. Left to his unpleasant reflections, Glossin began to count up thechances in his favour. Meg Merrilies was dead. Gabriel Faa, besidesbeing a gipsy, was a vagrant and a deserter. The other witnesses--he didnot greatly fear them! If only Dirk Hatteraick could be induced to besteady, and to put another meaning upon the sums of money which hadbeen paid to him on the day of Kennedy's murder! He must see Hatteraick--that very night he must see him! He slipped twoguineas into Mac-Guffog's hand (who since the burning of Portanferryprison had been made under-turnkey at Kippletringan), and by thethief-taker's connivance he was to be admitted that very night atlocking-up time into the cell of Dirk Hatteraick. "But you will have to remain there all night, " said the man. "I have totake the keys of all the cells directly to the captain of the prison!" So on his stocking-soles Glossin stole up after his guide, and waspresently locked in with the savage and desperate smuggler. At firstHatteraick would neither speak to Glossin nor listen to a wordconcerning his plans. "Plans, " he cried at last, in a burst of fury, "you and your plans! Youhave planned me out of ship, cargo, and life. I dreamed this moment thatMeg Merrilies dragged you here by the hair, and put her long clasp-knifeinto my hand. Ah, you don't know what she said! Sturm-wetter, it will beyour wisdom not to tempt me!" "Why, Hatteraick, " said Glossin, "have you turned driveller? Rise andspeak with me!" "Hagel, nein--let me alone!" "Get up, at least! Up with you for an obstinate Dutch brute!" saidGlossin, all at once losing his temper and kicking him with his heavyboot. "Donner and blitzen, " cried Hatteraick, leaping up and grappling withhim, "you shall have it then!" Glossin resisted as best he could, but his utmost strength was asnothing in the mighty grasp of the angry savage. He fell underHatteraick, the back of his neck coming with a fearful crash upon theiron bar. In the morning, true to his promise, Mac-Guffog called Glossin to comeout of Hatteraick's cell. "Call louder!" answered a voice from within, grimly. "Mr. Glossin, come away, " repeated Mac-Guffog; "for Heaven's sake comeaway!" "He'll hardly do that without help!" said Hatteraick. "What are you standing chattering there for, Mac-Guffog?" cried thecaptain of the prison, coming up with a lantern. They found Glossin'sbody doubled across the iron bar. He was stone dead. Hatteraick's griphad choked the life out of him as he lay. The murderer, having thus done justice on his accomplice, asked neitherfavour nor mercy for himself, save only that he might have paper whereonto write to his firm in Holland. "I was always faithful to owners, " he said, when they reproached himwith his crimes. "I always accounted for cargo to the last stiver! Asfor that carrion, " he added (pointing to Glossin), "I have only sent himto the devil a little ahead of me!" They gave him what he asked for--pens, ink, and paper. And on theirreturn, in a couple of hours, they found his body dangling from thewall. The smuggler had hanged himself by a cord taken from his owntruckle-bed. And though Mac-Guffog lost his place, on the suspicion of havingintroduced Glossin into Hatteraick's cell, there were many who believedthat it was the Evil One himself who had brought the rogue and theruffian together in order that they might save the hangman the troubleof doing his office upon them. * * * * * The end can be told in a word. Harry Bertram was duly and legallyreturned as heir of Ellangowan. His father's debts were soon paid, andthe Colonel, in giving him his daughter, gave him also the means ofrebuilding the ancient castle of the Ellangowan race. Sir RobertHazlewood had no objections to Lucy Bertram as a daughter-in-law, sosoon as he knew that she brought with her as a dowry the whole estate ofSingleside, which her brother insisted on her taking in accordance withher aunt's first intention. And lastly, in the new castle, there was onechamber bigger than all the others, called the Library, and just off ita little one, in which dwelt the happiest of men upon the earth. Thischamber was called on the plans "Mr. Sampson's Apartment. " * * * * * THE END OF THE FOURTH AND LAST TALE FROM "GUY MANNERING. " * * * * * INTERLUDE OF CONSULTATION A unanimous sigh greeted the close of _Guy Mannering_. It was the narrator's reward--the same which the orator hears, when, in a pause of speech, the strained attention relaxes, and the people, slowly bent forward like a field of corn across which the wind blows, settle back into their places. "A jolly ending--and the cave part was ripping!" summed up Hugh John, nodding his head in grave approval of Sir Walter, "but why can't he always write like that?" "Couldn't keep it up, " suggested Sir Toady Lion; "books can't all be caves, you know. " "Well, anyhow, I'm not going to play any more heroes, " said Hugh John, emphatically. "I bags Hatteraick--when we get out to the Den!" The young man intimated by these cabalistic words that the part of Hatteraick was to be his in any future play-acting. "Which being interpreted, " said Sweetheart, with spirit, "means that I am to be Gilbert Faa the gipsy, and Glossin, and all these nasty sort of people. Now I don't mind Meg Merrilies a bit. And being shot like that--that's always something. But I warn you, Hugh John, that if you were Hatteraick ten times over, you couldn't get me down over that iron bar!" "No, that you couldn't, " said Sir Toady Lion, seeing a far-off chance for himself; "why, Sweetheart could just batter your head against the wall! And then when Mac-Guffog came in the morning with his lantern, he'd find that old Hatteraick hadn't any need to go and hang himself! But don't you two squabble over it; _I_ will do Hatteraick myself!" "A very likely thing!" sneered Hugh John. "You heard me say 'Bags Hatteraick, ' Toady Lion! Every one heard me--you can't go back on that. You know you can't!" This was unanswerable. It was felt that to palter with such sacred formulas would be to renounce the most sacred obligations and to unsettle the very foundations of society. Whereupon I hastened to keep his Majesty's peace by proposing a compromise. "The girls surely don't want to play the villains' parts, " I began. "Oh, but just don't they!" ejaculated Maid Margaret, with the eyes of a child-saint momentarily disappointed of Paradise. "Why does a cat not eat butter for breakfast every morning? Because it jolly well can't get it. " "Well, at any rate, " said I, severely, "girls oughtn't to _want_ to play the villains' parts. " "No, " said Sweetheart, with still, concentrated irony, "they ought always to do just what boys tell them to, of course--never think of wanting anything that boys want, and always be thankful for boys' leavings! U-m-m! _I_ know!" "You should wait till you hear what I meant to say, Sweetheart, " I went on, with as much dignity as I could muster. "There are plenty of characters you will like to be, in every one of the books, but I think it would be fair always to draw lots for the first choice!" "Yes--yes--oh, yes!" came the chorus, from three of the party. But Hugh John, strong in the indefeasible rights of man, only repeated, "_I_ said 'Bags Hatteraick!'" "Well, then, " I said, "for this time Hatteraick is yours, but for the future it will be fairer to draw lots for first choice. " "All right, " growled Hugh John; "then I suppose I'll have to put up with a lot more heroes! Milksops, I call them!" "Which book shall we have next?" said Sweetheart, who was beginning to be rather ashamed of her heat. "I don't believe that you could tell us _Rob Roy!_" "Well, I can try, " said I, modestly. For so it behooves a modern parent to behave in the presence of his children. "_She_, " said Hugh John, pointing directly at his sister, "she read nearly half the book aloud, and we never came to Rob at all. That's why she asks for _Rob Roy_. " "But there's all about Alan Breck in the preface--ripping, it is!" interpolated Sir Toady, who had been doing some original research, "tell us about him. " But Alan Breck was quite another story, and I said so at once. _Rob Roy_ they had asked for. _Rob Roy_ they should have. And then I would stand or fall by their judgment. RED CAP TALES TOLD FROM ROB ROY THE FIRST TALE FROM "ROB ROY" FRANK THE HIGHWAYMAN FRANK OSBALDISTONE had come back from France to quarrel with his father. A merchant he would not be. He hated the three-legged stool, and he usedthe counting-house quills to write verses with. His four years in Bordeaux had spoiled him for strict business, withoutteaching him anything else practical enough to please his father, who, when he found that his son persisted in declining the stool in the darkcounting-room in Crane Alley, packed him off to the care of his brother, Sir Hildebrand Osbaldistone of Osbaldistone Hall in Northumberland, there to repent of his disobedience. "I will have no idlers about me, " he said, "I will not ask even my ownson twice to be my friend and my partner. One of my nephews shall takethe place in the firm which you have declined. " And old Mr. Osbaldistone, of the firm of Osbaldistone and Tresham, merchants in London town, being above all things a man of his word, Master Frank took to the North Road accordingly, an exile from his homeand disinherited of his patrimony. At first he was gloomy enough. He was leaving behind him wealth, ease, society. As he looked back from the heights of Highgate, the bells ofthe city steeples rang out their "Turn again, Whittington!" And to tellthe truth, Frank Osbaldistone felt half inclined to obey. But thethought of his father's grave scorn held him to his purpose, and soonthe delights of travel and the quickly changing scene chased the sadnessfrom his heart. Indeed, as was natural to a young man, a good horseunder his thigh and fifty guineas in his pocket helped amazingly to puthim in the best humour with himself. The company Frank met with on the North Road was commonplace and dull. But one poor man, a sort of army officer in a gold-laced hat, whosemartial courage was more than doubtful, amused Frank Osbaldistone byclinging desperately to a small but apparently very heavy portmanteau, which he carried on the pillion before him, never parting from it for amoment. This man's talk was all of well-dressed highwaymen, whoseconversation and manners induced the unwary to join company with them. Then in some shady dell whistling up their men, the unlucky travellerfound himself despoiled--of his goods certainly, perhaps also of hislife. It delighted Frank's boyish humour beyond measure to play upon the fearsof this gallant King's officer--which he proceeded to do by asking himfirst whether his bag were heavy or not, then by hinting that he wouldlike to be informed as to his route, and finally by offering to take thebag on his own pillion and race him with the added weight to the nearestvillage. This last audacious proposal almost took the man's breath away, and fromthat moment he was convinced that Frank was none other than the "GoldenFarmer" himself in disguise. At Darlington, the landlord of their inn introduced a Scotch cattledealer, a certain Mr. Campbell, to share their meal. He was astern-faced, dark-complexioned man, with a martial countenance and anair of instinctive command which took possession of the company at once. The lawyer, the doctor, the clergyman, even Frank himself, foundthemselves listening with deference to the words of this plainlydressed, unobtrusive, Scottish drover. As for the man with the weightybag, he fairly hung upon his words. And especially so when the landlordinformed the company that Mr. Campbell had with his own hand beaten offseven highwaymen. "Thou art deceived, friend Jonathan, " said the Scot, "they were but two, and as beggarly loons as man could wish to meet withal!" "Upon my word, sir, " cried Morris, for that was the name of the man withthe portmanteau, edging himself nearer to Mr. Campbell, "really andactually did you beat two highwaymen with your own hand?" "In troth I did, sir, " said Campbell, "and I think it nae great thing tomak' a sang about. " "Upon my word, sir, " said Morris, eagerly, "I go northward, sir--Ishould be happy to have the pleasure of your company on my journey. " And, in spite of short answers, he continued to press his proposal uponthe unwilling Scot, till Campbell had very unceremoniously to extricatehimself from his grip, telling him that he was travelling upon his ownprivate business, and that he could not unite himself to any stranger onthe public highway. The next day Frank approached Osbaldistone Hall, which stood under thegreat rounded range of the Cheviot Hills. He could already see itstanding, stark and grey, among its ancestral oaks, when down the ravinestreamed a band of huntsmen in full chase, the fox going wearily before, evidently near the end of his tether. Among the rout and nearer to Frankthan the others, owing to some roughness of the ground, rode a younglady in a man's coat and hat--which, with her vest and skirt, made thefirst riding-habit Frank had ever seen. The girl's cheeks were bright with the exercise. Her singular beauty wasthe more remarkable, chanced upon in so savage a scene. And when, afterhearing the "Whoop--dead!" which told of poor Reynard's decease, shepaused to tie up her loosened locks, Master Frank stared mostundisguisedly and even impolitely. One of the young huntsmen, clad in red and green, rode towards her, waving the brush in his hand as if in triumph over the girl. "I see, " she replied, "I see. But make no noise about it. If Phoebehere (patting the neck of her mare) had not got among the cliffs, _you_would have had little cause for boasting. " Then the two of them looked at Frank and spoke together in a low tone. The young man seemed sheepishly to decline some proposal which the girlmade to him. "Then if you won't, Thornie, " she said at last, "I must. " And turning to Frank she asked him if he had seen anything of a friendof theirs, one Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, who for some days past had beenexpected at the Hall. Frank instantly and gladly claimed kindred. "Then, " said the girl, smiling, "as this young man's politeness seems tohave fallen asleep, I must e'en be master of the ceremonies, howeverimproper it may be. So I beg to present to you young Squire ThorncliffOsbaldistone, your cousin, and Die Vernon, your accomplished cousin'spoor kinswoman. " The "accomplished cousin" finally decided to shake hands with mingledawkwardness and an assumption of sulky indifference. This being done, heimmediately announced his intention of going to help the huntsmen coupleup the hounds, and so he took himself off. "There he goes, " said the young lady, following him with disdainfuleyes, "the prince of grooms and cock-fighters and blackguardhorse-racers. But truly there is not one of them to mend another!" She turned sharply upon Frank. "Have you read Markham?" she demanded. Poor Frank had never even heard of that author. The girl held up herhands in horror. "Never to have heard of Markham--the Koran of this savage tribe--themost celebrated author on farriery!" she cried. "Then I fear you areequally a stranger to the more modern names of Gibson and Bartlett?" "I am, indeed, Miss Vernon, " answered Frank, meekly. "And do you not blush to own it?" she cried. "Why, we will disown thealliance. Then I suppose you can neither give a ball, nor a mash, nor ahorn?" "I confess, " said Frank, "I trust all these matters to my groom. " "Incredible carelessness!" she continued. "What was your father thinkingof? And you cannot shoe a horse, or cut his mane and tail. Or worm adog, or crop his ears, or cut his dew-claws; or reclaim a hawk or givehim casting-stones, or direct his diet when he is sealed! Or--" Frank could only once for all profess his utter ignorance of all suchaccomplishments. "Then in the name of Heaven, Mr. Frank Osbaldistone, what _can_ youdo?" "Very little to the purpose, I am afraid, Miss Vernon, " answered Frank;"only this--when my groom has dressed my horse I can ride him, and whenmy hawk is in the field, I can fly him. " "Can you do this?" said Die Vernon, setting her horse to a rude gatecomposed of pieces of wood from the forest, and clearing it at a bound. In a moment Frank was at her side. "There are hopes for you yet, " she said. "I was afraid that you were avery degenerate Osbaldistone. But what brings you to Cub Hall? I supposeyou could have stayed away if you had liked?" "The Cubs of the Hall may be as you describe them, " said Frank, lookingat his companion, "but I am convinced there is one exception that willmake amends for all their deficiencies. " "Oh, you mean Rashleigh!" said Die Vernon. "Indeed, I do not, " said Frank, who had not been four years in Francefor nothing, "I never even heard of Rashleigh. I mean some one very muchnearer me. " "I suppose I should pretend not to understand you, " she answered, "butthat is not my way. If I were not in the saddle, I would make you acourtesy. But seriously, I deserve your exception, for besides Rashleighand the old priest, I am the only conversable being about OsbaldistoneHall. " "And who, for Heaven's sake, is Rashleigh?" "Your youngest cousin, about your own age, but not so--so well-looking. Full of natural sense--learned, as being bred to the church, but in nohurry to take orders--and in addition by all odds the cleverest man in acountry where such are scarce. " They rode back to the Hall, but as it was some time before Frank couldget any one to attend to his own horse and Diana's mare, which she hadleft in his charge, he had time to look about him and take in the oldcastle and its rough, wasteful prodigality of service. By and by, however, there arrived Sir Hildebrand, who, among his sons, seemed, bycomparison at least, both intelligent and a gentleman. He gave Frank arough but hearty welcome to his mansion. "Art welcome, lad!" he said. "I would have seen thee before but had toattend to the kennelling of the hounds. So thy father has thought on theold Hall and old Sir Hildebrand at last! Well, better late than never!Here are thy cousins--Percie, Thornie, John, Dick, and Wilfred. Butwhere's Rashleigh? Ay, here's Rashleigh! Take thy long body aside, Thornie, and let's see thy brother a bit. And here's my little Die, mysister's daughter, the prettiest girl on our dales, be the next who shemay. And so now let's to the sirloin!" The five elder brethren of Osbaldistone Hall were all cast in onemould--tall, well-formed, athletic men, but dull of feature andexpression, and seemingly without any intellect whatever. Rashleigh, theyoungest, was the exact opposite of his brethren. Short in stature, thick-set, and with a curious halt in his gait, there was somethingabout his dark irregular features--something evil, relentless, andcruel, which even the assumed gentleness of his words and the melody ofhis voice could not hide. His brothers were mere oafs in learning, noneof whom ever looked at printed paper save to make a fly-book of it. ButRashleigh was learned, and, when he pleased, of manners exquisitelyrefined. It was, however, Miss Diana who really introduced Frank to his cousins, and the ceremony took place that day at dinner, while the young men weredevoting themselves heartily to the meat which they piled up on theirplatters. The clatter of knives and forks covered her voice. "Your cousins, " she said, "taken all together, form a happy compound ofthe sot, the gamekeeper, the bully, the horse-jockey, and the fool. Butas no two leaves off the same tree are quite exactly alike, so theseingredients are differently mingled in your kinsmen. Percie, the son andheir, has more of the sot than of the gamekeeper, bully, horse-jockey, or fool. My precious Thornie is more of the bully--John, who sleepswhole weeks among the hills, has most of the gamekeeper. The jockey ispowerful with Dickon, who rides two hundred miles by day and night, tobe bought and sold himself at a race-meeting. And the fool sopredominates over Wilfred's other characteristics that he may be termeda fool positive. " Though Frank pressed her, Die Vernon refused to add Sir Hildebrand toher gallery of family portraits. "I owe him some kindnesses, " she said, "or what at least were meant forsuch. And besides, I like him. You will be able to draw his pictureyourself when you know him better. " Having once before been successful with a compliment, when talking tohis beautiful companion, Frank now summoned his French breeding andtried a second. He had been silent for a minute, and Miss Vernon, turning her dark eyes on him, had said with her usual carelessfrankness, "You are thinking of me!" "How is it possible, " answered Master Frank, "that I should think ofanything else, seated where I have the happiness to be. " But Diana only smiled with a kind of haughty scorn, and replied, "I musttell you at once, Mr. Osbaldistone, that your pretty sayings are whollylost on me. Keep them for the other maids whom you will meet here in thenorth. There are plenty who will thank you for them. As for me, I happento know their value. Come, be sensible! Why, because she is dressed insilk and gauze, should you think that you are compelled to unload yourstale compliments on every unfortunate girl? Try to forget my sex. Callme Tom Vernon. Speak to me as to a friend and companion, and you have noidea how much I shall like you. " Frank's expression of amazement at these words egged on Diana tofurther feats of daring. "But do not misjudge me, " she said, "as I see you are likely to do. Youare inclined to think me a strange bold girl, half coquette, half romp, desirous, perhaps, of storming you into admiration. You never were moremistaken. I would show as much favour to your father, as readily make_him_ my confidant, if he were here--and if I thought he were capable ofunderstanding me. The truth is, I must speak of these things to some oneor die. " Frank changed the subject. "Will you not add Rashleigh to the familygallery?" he said. "No, no, " she said hastily, "it is never safe to speak of Rashleigh--no, not even when, as you now think, he has left the table. Do not be toosure even of that--and when you speak of Rashleigh Osbaldistone, get upto the top of Otterscope Hill, stand on the very peak, and speak inwhispers. And, after all, do not be too sure that a bird of the air maynot carry the matter. Rashleigh was my tutor for four years. We aremutually tired of each other, and we shall heartily rejoice to beseparated!" Nevertheless Rashleigh it was who had been selected in full familyconclave to take Frank's empty stool in the counting-house ofOsbaldistone, Tresham and Company in Crane Alley. Indeed, there was nochoice. His brothers were incapable even of the multiplication table. Besides, they wished him away, with the feelings of mice who hear thatthe family cat is going off to fill another situation. Even his father, who stood no little in awe of his clever son, breathed more freely atthe thought of Osbaldistone Hall without Rashleigh. It was not long before Mr. Frank Osbaldistone had a taste of his cousinRashleigh's quality. The very next morning his uncle and cousins lookedat him curiously when he came down early. Sir Hildebrand even quoted arhyme for his benefit, "He that gallops his horse on Blackstone Edge, May chance to catch a fall. " It was a fox-hunting morning, and during a long run Frank sustained hischaracter as a good and daring rider, to the admiration of Diana and SirHildebrand, and to the secret disappointment of his other kindkinsfolk, who had prophesied that he would certainly "be off at thefirst burst, " chiefly for the reason that he had a queer, outlandishbinding round his hat. It was plain that Diana wanted to speak with him apart, but the closeattendance of Cousin Thornie for some time made this impossible. Thatloutish youth's persistence finally fretted the girl, and having beenaccustomed all her life to ride the straightest way to her desire, shebade him be off to see that the earths above Woolverton Mill were dulystopped. After some objections Thornie was got safely out of the road, and Dianaled the way to a little hill whence there was a fine view in everydirection. She pointed, as Frank thought, somewhat significantly to thenorth. "Yonder whitish speck is Hawkesmore Crag in Scotland, " she said, "thedistance is hardly eighteen miles, as the crow flies. Your horse willcarry you there in two hours--and I will lend you my mare if you thinkher less blown. " "But, " said Frank, quite mystified, "I have so little wish to be inScotland, that if my horse's head were in Scotland, I would not give histail the trouble of following. What should I do in Scotland, MissVernon?" "Why, provide for your safety--do you understand me now, Mr. Frank?" "Less than ever, Miss Vernon, " he answered. "I have not the most distantconception of what you mean. " "Why, then, " said Diana, "to be plain, there is an information lodgedwith our nearest Justice of the Peace, Squire Inglewood, that you wereconcerned in a robbery of government papers and money sent to pay thetroops in Scotland. A man with whom you travelled, and whom youcertainly frightened, has lodged such a complaint against you. His nameis Morris. " "Morris has been robbed?" "Ay, " said Diana, "and he swears you are the man who robbed him. " "Then Sir Hildebrand believes it?" cried Frank. "He does, " answered Diana, "and to tell the truth, so did I until thismoment. " "Upon my word, I am obliged to you and my uncle for your opinion of me. " "Oh, it is nothing to be ashamed of, " she said, smiling, "no merehighway robbery. The man was a government messenger. We are allJacobites about here, and no man would have thought the worse of you forbidding him stand and deliver. Why, my uncle had a message from SquireInglewood himself, that he had better provide for your safety bysmuggling you over the border into Scotland. " "Tell me, " said Frank, somewhat impatiently, "where does this SquireInglewood live? I will go and answer the charge instantly and inperson. " "Well said--I will go with you, " said Diana, promptly, "it was never theVernon way to desert a friend in time of need. " Frank tried to dissuade her from this, but he could not combat thegirl's resolution. So they set off together for Inglewood Hall. As theyentered the courtyard, they met Rashleigh just coming out. Miss Vernon instantly challenged him, before he got time to make up astory. "Rashleigh, " she said, "you have heard of Mr. Frank's affair, and youhave been over to the Justice talking about it. " But Rashleigh was equally ready. "Certainly, " he answered, "I have been endeavouring to render my cousinwhat service I could. But at the same time I am sorry to meet him here. " "As a friend and kinsman, Mr. Osbaldistone, " said Frank, "you shouldhave been sorry to meet me anywhere else but where my character is atstake, and where it is my intention to clear it. " However, it was evidently not Miss Vernon's purpose to quarrel withRashleigh at that time. She led him apart, and began talking to him--atfirst quietly, then with obvious anger. From her manner she was charginghim with knowing who had really committed the robbery, and pressing uponhim in some way to make plain his cousin's innocence. He resisted long, but at length gave way. "Very well, then, " he said, "you are a tyrant, Diana. Still, it shall beas you desire. But you know that you ought not to be here. You mustreturn with me at once!" "I will do no such thing, " said the girl; "not a foot will I go backtill such time as I see Frank well out of the hands of the Philistines. He has been bidding me to go back all the time, himself. But I knowbetter. Also, I know you, my cousin Rashleigh, and my being here willgive you a stronger motive to be speedy in performing your promise. " Rashleigh departed in great anger at her obstinacy, and Frank and Dietogether sought the den of the Justice, to which they were guided by ahigh voice chanting the fag-end of an old bottle-song: "Oh, in Skipton-in-Craven Is never a haven But many a day foul weather, And he that would say A pretty girl nay I wish for his cravat a tether. " "Hey day, " said Die Vernon, "the genial Justice must have dinedalready--I did not think it had been so late. " As Diana had supposed, the Justice had dined. But though both his clerkJobson and Frank's accuser Morris were with him, he showed himself aspleased to see Diana as he was evidently disinclined for all furtherlegal business. "Ah, ha, Die Vernon, " he cried, starting up with great alacrity, "theheath-bell of Cheviot and the blossom of the border, come to see how theold bachelor keeps house? Art welcome, girl, as the flowers in May!" Miss Vernon told him that on this occasion she could not stay. She hadhad a long ride that morning, and she must return at once. But if hewere a good kind Justice, he would immediately despatch young Frank'sbusiness and let them go. This the "good Justice" was very willing to do, but Clerk Jobson, alertin his office, pressed that the law should have its course, while Frankhimself demanded no better than that the mystery should be cleared uponce and for all. Whereupon the man who had been robbed repeated his statement. He had, itseemed, been first of all terrified by Frank's antics. And then on theopen moor, when he had found himself stopped, and relieved of hisportmanteau by two masked men, he had distinctly heard the name"Osbaldistone" applied by one of his assailants in speaking to theother. He furthermore certified that all the Osbaldistones had beenPapists and Jacobites from the time of William the Conquerer. From whichit was clear that Frank was the guilty man! Frank replied that it was true that, like a foolish, gamesome youth, hehad certainly practised somewhat on the fears of the man Morris, butthat he had never seen him since he parted from him at Darlington, andthat, far from being a Papist and a Jacobite, he could easily prove thathe had been brought up in the strictest school of Presbyterianism and infull obedience to the government of King George. Clerk Jobson, however, was sharp enough to turn Frank's admissionsagainst him, and said that since he had voluntarily assumed thebehaviour of a robber or malefactor, he had by that very act broughthimself within the penalties of the law. But at this moment a letter was handed to the Clerk, which informed himthat a certain old Gaffer Rutledge was at the point of death, and thathe, Clerk Jobson, must go immediately to his house in order to settleall his worldly affairs. The clerk, after offering to make out the warrant of commitment beforesetting out, at last, and with great reluctance, rode away. Then theJustice, who evidently still fully believed in Frank's guilt, counselledhim as a friend to let bygones be bygones, and to give Mr. Morris backhis portmanteau. Frank had hardly time to be indignant at this when aservant announced--"A stranger to wait upon the Justice!" "A stranger!" echoed the Justice, in very bad temper; "not uponbusiness, or I'll--" But his protestation was cut short by the entranceof the stranger himself, and by the stern deep voice of Mr. Campbell, who immediately produced his usual effect upon Squire Inglewood. "My business is peculiar, " said the Scot, "and I ask your Honour to giveit your most instant consideration. " Then Mr. Campbell turned on Morris such a look of ferocity that it madethat valiant gentleman shake visibly from head to foot. "I believe you cannot have forgotten what passed between us at our lastmeeting, " he said, "and you can bear me witness to the Justice that I ama man of fortune and honour. You will be some time resident in myvicinity, and you know it will be in my power to do as much for you. Speak out, man, and do not sit there chattering your jaws like a pair ofcastanets. " At last an answer was extracted from the trembling Mr. Morris, but withas much difficulty as if it had been a tooth. "Sir--sir--, " he stammered, "yes--I do believe you to be a man offortune and of honour--I do believe it!" "Then, " said Campbell, "you will bear me witness that I was in yourcompany when the valise was stolen, but did not think fit to interfere, the affair being none of mine. Further you will tell the Justice that noman is better qualified than I to bear testimony in this case. " "No man better qualified, certainly, " assented Morris, with a heavysigh. In order to prove his character, Mr. Campbell put into the handsof Justice Inglewood a certificate given under the seal and in thehandwriting of the great Duke of Argyle himself. The Justice, who hadstood by the Duke in 1714, was duly impressed, and told the Scot thathis additional testimonial was perfectly satisfactory. "And now, " he added, "what have you to say about this robbery?" "Briefly this, " said Mr. Campbell, "the robber for whom Mr. Morris tookMr. Osbaldistone was both a shorter and a thicker man. More than that, Isaw under the false face he wore, when it slipped aside, that hisfeatures were altogether different!" Between terror and the determined attitude of Campbell, Morris was soonforced to withdraw his information against Frank, and the Justice, gladto be rid of so troublesome a case, instantly threw the papers into thefire. "You are now at perfect liberty, Mr. Osbaldistone, " said SquireInglewood, "and you, Mr. Morris, are set quite at your ease. " In spite of this Mr. Morris did not seem exactly comfortable, especiallyas Mr. Campbell expressed his intention of accompanying him to the nexthighway, telling him that he would be as safe in his company as in hisfather's kailyard. "Zounds, sir, " he said as they went out, "that a chield with such ablack beard should have no more heart than a hen-partridge. Come on wi'ye, like a frank fellow, once and for all!" The voices died away, the clatter of horses' hoofs was heard, and aftera few kindly words from the Justice, Diana and Frank set out on theirway home. On the road they met Clerk Jobson returning in great haste andin a most villanous temper. The will-making, even the illness of GafferRutledge, had proved to be a "bam, " that is to say, a hoax. The clerk'slanguage became so impertinent towards Miss Vernon, that, if she had notprevented him, Frank would certainly have broken the rascal's head. The revel was in full swing at Osbaldistone Hall when they returned. Sofor the sake of peace Diana ordered some dinner to be brought to them inthe library. This was a large neglected room, walled about with greatbooks, into which hardly any of the Osbaldistones ever came, and whichaccordingly Diana had appropriated as her peculiar sanctum. To this chamber Rashleigh Osbaldistone penetrated after dinner had beenremoved. He came to explain the events of the day, but except that hehad met Campbell by chance, and that, having learned that he had been aneye-witness to the robbery, he had sent him on to Squire Inglewood's, there was not much more that he seemed inclined to reveal. Afterwards, however, in his own room, Rashleigh became morecommunicative. He desired to know what kind of man Frank's father was, with whom in future he was to be placed. And in return for thisinformation he told Frank what he wished to know as to Diana Vernon. Shewas, said Rashleigh, to marry Thorncliff, according to a family compactof long standing. But he intimated in addition that she would greatlyhave preferred himself, and that, indeed, he had withdrawn from the careof her studies on account of the too evident affection she had begun toshow towards one, who, as a son of the church, was destined never tomarry. This information rankled in Frank's mind, and all the next day he wassullen and even brutal in his manner towards Miss Vernon. But she didnot grow angry, and merely left him to fill up the measure of hisfolly--which he presently did by an affray with Rashleigh and his othercousins over the wine-cups in the evening, in which swords were drawnand blows given. The next morning, however, Miss Vernon called him to account. "Upon my word, Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, " she said, seating herself inone of the great chairs in the library, like a judge upon the bench, "your character improves upon us. Last night's performance was amasterpiece. You contrived to exhibit in the course of one evening allthe various qualifications of your several cousins--the gentle andgenerous temper of Rashleigh, the temperance of Percie, the cool courageof Thorncliff, John's skill in dog-breaking, Dickon's aptitude forbetting--all these were exhibited by the same Mr. Francis, and with achoice of time and place worthy of the taste and sagacity of Wilfred. " Frank expressed his shame and sorrow as best he could. He had beentroubled, he said, by some information that he had received. Instantly Miss Vernon took him up. "And now, " she said, "please tell me instantly what it was thatRashleigh said of me--I have a right to know and know I will!" It was some time before Frank could bring himself to tell Diana what hercousin had really hinted concerning herself, and when she heard that hehad affirmed her wish to marry him in preference to Thorncliff, sheshuddered from head to foot. "No, " she cried, all her soul instantly on fire, "any lot rather thanthat--the sot, the gambler, the bully, the jockey, the insensate foolwere a thousand times preferable to Rashleigh! But the convent, thejail--the grave--shall be welcome before them all!" INTERLUDE OF DISCUSSION At the abrupt close of the story the children looked not a little surprised, nor did they manifest their usual eagerness to rush out of doors and instantly to reduce the tale to action. The first difficulty was as to who the real highwayman could be. "Did Frank _really_ take the man's bag with the money and things?" ventured Maid Margaret, a little timidly. She knew that she would be promptly contradicted. "No, of course not, " shouted Hugh John, "it was the Scotch drover, Campbell, --for how else could he know so well about it? Of course it was--_I_ knew it from the first. " Meantime Sweetheart had been musing deeply. "Do you know, " she said gently, "I am most of all sorry for Die Vernon. I don't think that I want to play in this story. It is too real. I think Die Vernon lived. " "Why--didn't they all live?" said Maid Margaret, plaintively. For the world of books was still quite alive for her. She had not lost the most precious of all the senses. Dream-gold was as good as Queen's-head-gold fresh out of the mint for her. Happy Maid Margaret! "I am sure Die Vernon was real, " Sweetheart went on; "last night when you were all out cycle-riding and I was waiting for my Latin lesson, I read a bit of the book--a chapter that father has not told us. And it made me sorry for Die. She wished that she had been born a man, so that she might say and do the same things as others. She was alone in the world, she said. She needed protection, yet if she said or did anything naturally, every one thought what a bold, forward girl she was! I have felt that too!" "Rubbish!" said Hugh John, in high remorseless scorn, "_you_ are not 'alone in the world!' No, not much. And if we say or do anything to you, you jolly well whack us over the head. Why, the last time I called you--" "That will do, Hugh John, " interrupted Sweetheart, in very Die Vernonish voice. "Well, when I called you--'Thinggummy'--_you know_--you hit me with a stick and the mark lasted three days!" "And served you right!" said Sweetheart, calmly. "Well, I'm not saying it didn't, am I?" retorted honest Hugh John, "but anyway _you_ needn't go about doing _wooly-woo_-- "'My nest it is harried, My children all gone!'" "Oh, you are a boy and can't understand--or won't!" said Sweetheart, with a sigh, "I needn't have expected it. But Diana Vernon did make me cry, especially the bit about her being a Catholic--stop--I will find it!" And she foraged among the books on the shelf for the big Abbotsford edition of _Rob Roy_, the one with the fine old-fashioned pictures. "Here it is, " she said with her finger on the place. "'I belong to an oppressed sect and antiquated religion (she read), and instead of getting credit for my devotion, as is due to all other good girls, my kind friend Justice Inglewood might send me to the house of correction for it. . . . I am by nature of a frank and unreserved disposition, --a plain, true-hearted girl, who would willingly act honestly and openly by all the world, and yet fate has entangled me in such a series of nets and toils and entanglements, that I dare not speak a word for fear of consequences, not to myself but to others. '" Sweetheart sighed again and repeated thoughtfully, "I _am_ sorry for Die Vernon!" "Humph, " said Hugh John, with dogged masculine logic, "girls are always making up troubles, I think. I don't see what she has to 'whimp' about--everybody did just as she said at that Hall--more than I would do for any silly girl, I bet! Just you try it on, only once, Miss Sweetheart, that's all! She has all she can eat and can order it herself--lots of horses and riding--a gun--cricky, I only wish I had her chances! Think of it--just oblige me by thinking of it--secret passages to come and go by, night and day, right plumb in the wall under your nose, mysterious priests, Jesuits, Jacobites, and things. Why, it's nearly as good as Crusoe's Island, I declare. " Sweetheart looked at Hugh John with the far-away gentle compassion which always drove that matter-of-fact warrior wild. "All girls are the same, " he asserted insultingly, "they always get thinking they are going to die right off, if only their little finger aches!" "You'll be sorry!" said Sweetheart, warningly. "Oh, will I?" said Hugh John, truculently, "isn't what I say true, Toady Lion?" But Toady Lion was sitting upon a buffet, in the character of Morris upon his portmanteau. He was shaking and chattering with such exaggerated terror that Maid Margaret, wrapped in a dust-sheet for a disguise and armed with the kitchen poker, could not rob him for very laughter. So neither of them paid any heed. "You'll be sorry for speaking like that about Die Vernon, " Sweetheart went on; "I've looked and I know. She was a true heroine. And she is worth a whole pack of your heroes any day. " "And, indeed, that's not saying much!" said Hugh John, who also had his sorrows. "But at any rate that was no proper place to break off a story. And I'll tell father so. Let's tease to have some more. It's a wet day, and we can't do anything else!" "Oh, yes--let's!" said Sweetheart. "Stop all that, Toady Lion, and you, Maid Margaret. We are going to ask for the second tale from _Rob Roy!_" "Well, " grumbled Hugh John, "I hope that there will be more about Rob Roy in it this time. It's not too soon. " And Sweetheart only continued to regard him with the same quiet but irritating smile, and nodded her head as who would say, "Those who live the longest see the most!" THE SECOND TALE FROM "ROB ROY" I. IN THE TOILS OF RASHLEIGH BUT it became more and more evident that Frank's time at OsbaldistoneHall was growing short. A certain travelling merchant, a friend andcountryman of Andrew Fairservice, the Osbaldistone gardener, broughtnews from London of how Frank's character had been attacked there in thematter of Morris, and that in the high court of Parliament itself. Moreover, Frank felt that he could not much longer remain in the samehouse with Miss Vernon. His love for her daily increased. Yet she toldhim plainly that she could and would only be a friend to him. He mustask her no questions, however deep the mysteries which encircled hermight seem. One day he found a man's glove lying on the library table. On another occasion, after Rashleigh's departure for London, hedistinguished two shadows on the windows of the library while he waspatrolling the garden after dark. Last of all Frank received a letter through some secret channel ofDiana's written by his father's partner, Mr. Tresham. This informed himthat his father had been for some time in Holland on business of thefirm, and that Rashleigh had gone north to Scotland some time ago, witha large amount of money to take up bills granted by his father tomerchants in that country. Since his setting out, nothing whatever hadbeen heard of Rashleigh, and Owen had gone north to find him. Frank wasurgently prayed to proceed to Glasgow for the same purpose as soon aspossible. For if Rashleigh were not found, it was likely that the greathouse of Osbaldistone and Tresham might have to suspend payment. At this news Frank was stricken to the heart. He saw now how hisfoolishness had ruined his father, because it was through his obstinacythat Rashleigh had gained admission to his father's confidence. Mr. Osbaldistone, he knew, would never survive the disgrace of bankruptcy. He must, therefore, instantly depart. And Diana willingly sped him onhis way, giving him a letter which he was only to open if all othermeans of paying his father's debts had failed. Frank resolved to quit Osbaldistone Hall by night secretly, leaving onlya letter of thanks for his uncle, and informing him that immediate andurgent business called him to Glasgow. He found a willing guide ready tohis hand in the gardener Andrew Fairservice, who, as he said, had longbeen awaiting such an opportunity of quitting his employment. But this same Andrew came near to involving Frank in a fresh breach ofthe law. For, as Squire Thorncliff owed him ten pounds which he refusedto pay, Andrew had mounted himself on Squire Thornie's good beast. Andit was not until the animal was safely arrested by the law in the firstScotch town across the border, and Frank had written the whole story toSir Hildebrand, that he felt easy in his mind as to the irregular act ofhis attendant. They arrived at Glasgow, then a small but ancient town, on the eve ofthe Sabbath day. It was impossible for Frank to discover Owen thatnight, and it proved to be no more easy the following morning. For when he proposed to his landlady to go to the dwelling-house of Mr. MacVittie, or to the counting-house of that firm, in search of Owen, she held up her hands in horror. "There will not be a soul in either place, " she cried; "they are allserious men and will only be found where all good Christians ought to beon the Lord's Day Morning, and that's in the Barony Laigh (Low) Kirk!" So thither accordingly Frank betook himself, accompanied, of course, byhis faithful follower, Andrew Fairservice. They found the Laigh Kirk tobe a gloomy underground crypt into which light was but sparinglyadmitted by a few Gothic windows. In the centre the pews were alreadyfull to overflowing with worshippers, and Andrew and Frank had to taketheir places in the ring of those who stood in the outer dark among thegloomy ranges of pillars which stretched away into complete obscurity. Frank listened to the sermon for some time with what attention he couldmuster. But the thought of his father's loss and his own share in itrecurred often to his mind. Suddenly he was roused from his revery by awhisper from the darkness behind, "Listen, " a voice said, low but verydistinct, in his ear, "do not look back. You are in danger in thisplace. So am I. Meet me to-night at the Brig, at twelve o'clockprecisely. Keep at home till the gloaming and avoid observation!" Frank tried to find out who could be so well acquainted with his journeyas to give him this rendezvous. But all that he could see, vanishinginto the darkness of the vaulted arches, was a figure, wrapped in a longcloak which revealed nothing whatever of its wearer. Instinctively Frankattempted to pursue, but he had not gone many yards, when he fell over atombstone with such a clatter that it caused the preacher to stop andorder the officers to take into custody the author of the unseemlydisturbance. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to wait with as much patienceas he could muster for the time appointed. He did, however, see Mr. MacVittie, his father's correspondent, when as Andrew said the "kirkscaled. " But he did not take that worthy's advice to speak to themerchant. The hard features of the man had in them somethingdisagreeable and even menacing which vaguely recalled RashleighOsbaldistone. And Frank, remembering the warnings of his unknown friend, resolved to refrain from making his presence in Glasgow known, at leastfor the present, to that notable merchant Mr. MacVittie. This Sunday was the longest day of Frank Osbaldistone's life. It seemedas if the hours would never go past. Twilight came at last, however, andhe issued forth to walk up and down in the public park, among theavenues of trees, till the time of his appointment should arrive. As he marched to and fro, keeping as much as possible out of sight ofthe passers-by, he heard the voice of Andrew Fairservice in close andsomewhat loud conversation with a man in a long cloak and a slouchedhat. Andrew was retailing the character of his master to the stranger, and though Frank Osbaldistone promised to himself to break Andrew's patefor his insolence on the first suitable occasion, he could not butacknowledge the fidelity of the likeness which Andrew painted. "Ay, ay, Mr. Hammorgaw, " Andrew was saying, "the lad is a good lad. Heis not altogether void of sense. He has a gloaming sight of what isreasonable, but he is crack-brained and cockle-headed about hisnipperty-tipperty poetry nonsense. A bare crag wi' a burn jawing over itis unto him as a garden garnished with flowering knots and choicepot-herbs. And he would rather claver with a daft quean they call DianaVernon, than hear what might do him good all the days of his life fromyou or me, or any other sober and sponsible person. Reason, sir, hecannot endure. He is all for the vanities and the volubilities. And heeven once told me, poor blinded creature, that the Psalms of David wereexcellent poetry. As if the holy Psalmist thought of rattling rhymes inblether, like his own silly clinkum-clankum that he calls verse! Gudehelp him! Two lines of Davie Lindsay wad ding a' that he ever clerkit!" At last, after a weary waiting, the bell of the church of St. Mungotolled the hour of midnight. The echoes had not ceased upon the air whena figure approached across the bridge, coming from the southern side. The man was strong, thick-set, and wore a horseman's cloak wrapped abouthim. But he passed without speaking, and held on his way to the fartherend of the bridge. There he turned, and meeting Frank full in face, badehim follow him and he would know his reasons for thus warning him. Frank first demanded to know who he was, and what were his purposes withhim. "I am a man, " was the reply, "and my purpose is friendly to you. " More than that he would not say. Frank could follow him or not, just ashe chose. Only if he did not, he would rue it all his life. Furthermore, he stung the young man, perhaps intentionally, with thetaunt of being afraid. Frank cast back his words in his teeth. He wasyoung, active, armed, of a good conscience. Why then had he need to beafraid? "But, " said the stranger, "if you are not afraid of what I can do toyou, do you not fear the consequences of being found in the company ofone whose very name whispered in this lonely street would make thestones themselves rise up to apprehend him--on whose head half the menin Glasgow would build their fortune as on a found treasure, had theythe luck to grip him by the collar--the sound of whose apprehension wereas welcome at the Cross of Edinburgh as ever the news of a fieldstricken and won in Flanders?" "And who, then, are you?" cried Frank, "whose name should create so deepa terror?" "No enemy of yours, since I am taking you to a place where, if I wererecognised, cold iron for my heels and hemp for my throat would be mybrief dooming. " Instinctively Frank laid his hand on his sword. "What, " said the stranger, "on an unarmed man and your friend?" "I am ignorant if you be either the one or the other!" said Frank, "andindeed your language and manner lead me to doubt both. " "Manfully spoken, " said the unknown; "well, I will be frank and freewith you--I am conveying you to prison!" "To prison, " cried Frank, "and by what warrant--for what offence? Youshall have my life sooner than my liberty. I defy you! I will not followyou a step farther!" The unknown drew himself up haughtily. "I am not taking you there as a prisoner, " he said. "I am neithermessenger nor sheriff's officer. _Your_ liberty is little risked by thevisit. _Mine_ is in some peril. But I care not for the risk. For I lovea free young blood, that kens no protector but the cross of his sword. " So saying he tapped at a low wicket, and was answered sharply fromwithin, as by one awakened suddenly from a dream. "Fat's tat? Wha's that, I wad say? And what the deil want ye at thishour o' the e'en? Clean again rules--clean again rules--as they callthem!" The speaker seemed by the yawning drone of the last words again to becomposing himself to slumber. Then the stranger, who had hitherto guided Frank, spoke in a loudwhisper, "Dougal man! hae ye forgotten _Ha nun Gregarach?_" Instantly there was a bustle inside. "Deil a bit, deil a bit!" said the voice within, briskly. Bolts were drawn, whispers passed in Gaelic, and presently Frank and hiscompanion stood both of them in the vestibule of the tolbooth or publicprison of Glasgow. It was a small but strong guard-room, from whichpassages led away to the right and left, and staircases ascended to thecells of the prisoners. Iron fetters fitly adorned the walls. Muskets, pistols, and partizans stood about, ready alike for defence or offence. Still more strange was the jailer who greeted them. This man was a wild, shock-headed savage with a brush of red hair, buthe knelt and almost worshipped Frank's guide. He could not take hiseyes off him. "Oich--oich, " grunted Dougal, for that was the turnkey's name, "to seeye here! What would happen to ye if the bailies should come to getwitting of it?" The guide, still wrapped in his cloak, placed his finger on his lip. "Fear nothing, Dougal, " he said, "your hands shall never draw a bolt onme. " "That shall they no, " said Dougal, emphatically, "she wishes them hackedoff by the elbows first. And when are ye gaun yonder again? When youreturn, you will not forget to tell your poor cousin--only seven timesremoved. " "I will let you know, Dougal, " said the man, "as soon as my plans aresettled. " "And by my sooth, " cried Dougal, "when you do, I will fling my keys atthe provost's head, and never gie them anither turn--see if I winna!" But Frank's guide, who had listened to all this rhapsody very much withthe air of a prince accustomed to royal service and thinking little ofit, interrupted Dougal with some words in Gaelic. Whereupon the turnkey, taking a lantern, led the young man up thewinding stair and introduced him to a cell, where, lying on a bed, herecognised--no other than Owen, the head clerk of his father's house. At first the good Owen could only bemoan the hardness of fate, thinkingthat Frank also had met with the same treatment as himself, by beingsent to prison. He had, it seemed, as in duty bound, gone at once toMessrs. MacVittie, MacFin, and Company and exposed to them his case, stating the difficulty in which the house were placed by Rashleigh'sdisappearance. Hitherto they had been most smooth and silver-tongued, but at the first word of difficulty as to payment, they had clapped poorOwen into prison on the charge of meditating flight out of the country. He had, he continued, sent a note to Bailie Nicol Jarvie, the othercorrespondent of the house in Glasgow. But, as he said, "If the civilhouse in the Gallowgate used him thus, what was to be expected from thecross-grained old crab-stock in the Salt Market?" It had fallen out even as he had expected. Bailie Nicol Jarvie had notso much as answered his letter, though it had been put into his hand ashe was on his way to church that morning. Hardly were the words out of Owen's mouth, when from below came thevoice of Dougal the turnkey, evidently urging Frank's guide to concealhimself. "Gang upstairs and hide behind the Sassenach gentleman's bed. Ay, ay--coming--coming!" The Highlander hastily entered Owen's cell, and, stripping off his heavycoat, stood at bay, evidently gathering himself for a leap at theofficers, should it indeed prove to be the provost, magistrates, andguard of the city of Glasgow, as Dougal believed. It was obvious that hemeant to spring right at any who might be seeking to apprehend him. Butinstead of a guard with fixed bayonets, it was only a good-looking youngwoman in kilted petticoats holding a lantern in her hand, who ushered ina magistrate, stout, bob-wigged, bustling, and breathless. At the sightof his face Frank's conductor instantly drew back and resumed themuffling cloak which hid the lower part of his features. The chief captain of the jail now showed himself at the door, havingdescended hastily to wait on the great man. But the Bailie's anger washuge against all and sundry. "A bonny thing, Captain Stanchells, " he cried, "that I, a magistrate ofthe city, should have been kept half an hour knocking as hard forentrance into the tolbooth as the poor creatures within knock to getout! And what, pray, is the meaning of this--strangers in the jail afterlock-up time? I will look after this, Stanchells, depend upon it. Keepthe door locked. By and by I will speak with these gentlemen. But first, I must have a talk with an old acquaintance here. Mr. Owen, Mr. Owen, how's all with you, man?" "Well in body, I thank you, Mr. Jarvie, " said poor Owen, "but soreafflicted in spirit. " "Ay, ay--no doubt--no doubt, " said the Bailie, briskly, "but we are allsubject to a downcome, and it comes hard on those that have held theirheads high. But I have not come out at twelve o'clock of a Sabbath nightto cast up to an unfortunate man his backslidings. That was neverBailie Nicol Jarvie's way, nor yet was it his father the deacon'sbefore him. Why, man, even in the Kirk I was thinking on your letter. And after supper I sat yawning wide enough to swallow St. Enoch's Kirk, till twelve of the clock struck. Then I took a bit look at my ledgerjust to see how matters stood between us. Syne I called up Mattie andbade her light the lamp and convoy me down to the tolbooth. I have entryhere at any hour of the night and day, and so had my father before me, God bless him!" II. ROB ROY AT LAST During this harangue Frank's mysterious guide had been gradually edgingtoward the door, and showing signs of slipping away. But even whenlooking carefully over Mr. Owen's papers, the keen eyes of themagistrate detected the movement. "Shut the door, Stanchells, and keep it locked!" he cried. The Highlander took three or four steps across the room, muttered anexecration in Gaelic, and then with an air of careless defiance sethimself down on a table and proceeded to whistle a stave with allpossible assurance. The Bailie soon arranged Mr. Owen's affairs. He would become his bailhimself, and promised to secure his liberation early next morning. Thenhe took the lantern from his servant Mattie, and, holding it up, proceeded to examine the stern, set countenance of Frank's guide. Thatstout-hearted Celt did not move a muscle under the inspection, but withhis arms folded carelessly, his heel beating time to the lilt of hiswhistled strathspey, he came very near to deceiving the acuteness of hisinvestigator. "Eh--ah--no--it cannot be. It is! Eh, ye born deevil, ye robber--yecatheran! Can this be you?" "E'en as ye see me, Bailie!" was the short response. "Ye cheat-the-gallows, ye reiving villain--what think you is the valueof your head now!" cried the Bailie. "Umph! Fairly weighed and Dutch measure, " came the answer, "it mightweigh down one provost's, four bailies', a town-clerk's, six deacons', besides stent-masters'--!" "Tell over your sins, " interrupted Mr. Nicol Jarvie, "and prepare ye, for if I speak the word--" "But ye will _not_ speak the word, " said the Highlander, coolly. [Illustration: "HE took the lantern from his servant Mattie, and, holding it up, proceeded to examine the stern, set countenance ofFrank's guide. That stout-hearted Celt did not move a muscle under theinspection, but with his arms folded carelessly, his heel beating timeto the lilt of his whistled strathspey, he came very near to deceivingthe acuteness of his investigator. "] "And why should I not?" said the Bailie, "answer me that--why should Inot?" "For three sufficient reasons, Bailie Jarvie, " he retorted, "first, forauld langsyne. Second, for the sake of the auld wife ayont the fire atStuckavrallachan, that made some mixture of our bloods--to my shame beit spoken that _I_ should have a cousin a weaver. And lastly, Bailie, because if I saw a sign of your betraying me, I would plaster the wallthere with your brains, long before any hand of man could rescue you!" "Ye are a bold, desperate villain, sir, " retorted the undaunted Bailie, "and ye ken that I ken ye to be so--but that were it only my own risk, Iwould not hesitate a moment. " "I ken well, " said the other, "ye have gentle blood in your veins, and Iwould be loath to hurt my own kinsman. But I go out of here free as Icame in, or the very walls of Glasgow tolbooth shall tell the tale theseten years to come!" "Well, well, " said Mr. Jarvie, "after all, blood is thicker than water. Kinsfolk should not see faults to which strangers are blind. And, as yousay, it would be sore news to the auld wife below the Ben, that you, yeHieland limmer, had knockit out my brains, or that I had got you strungup in a halter. But, among other things, where is the good thousandpound Scots that I lent you, and when am I to be seeing it?" "Where is it?" said the unknown, grimly, "why, where last year's snowis, I trow!" "And that's on the tap o' Schehallion, ye Hieland dog, " said Mr. Jarvie, "and I look for payment from ye where ye stand. " "Ay, " said the Highlander, unmoved, "but I carry neither snow nor silverin my sporran. Ye will get it, Bailie--just when the King enjoys his ainagain, as the auld sang says!" Then the magistrate turned to Frank. "And who may this be?" he demanded, "some reiver ye hae listed, Rob? Helooks as if he had a bold heart for the highway, and a neck that wasmade express for the hangman's rope!" "This, " said Owen, horrified at the Bailie's easy prediction as to thefate of his young master, "this is Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, only son ofthe head of our house--" "Ay, I have heard of him, " said the Bailie, still more contemptuously, "he that ran away and turned play-actor, through pure dislike to thework an honest man should live by!" "Indeed, " said the Highlander, "I had some respect for the callant evenbefore I kenned what was in him. But now I honour him for his contemptof weavers and spinners, and sic-like mechanical persons. " "Ye are mad, Rob, " said the Bailie, "mad as a March hare--thoughwherefore a hare should be madder in the month of March than atMartinmas is more than I can well say. But this young birkie here, thatye are hounding the fastest way to the gallows--tell me, will all hisstage-plays and his poetries, or your broad oaths and drawn dirks tellhim where Rashleigh Osbaldistone is? Or Macbeth and all his kernes andgalloglasses, and your own to boot, procure him the five thousand poundsto answer the bills that must fall due ten days hence--were they allsold by auction at Glasgow Cross--basket hilts, Andrea Ferraras, leathern targets, brogues, brechan, and sporrans?" "Ten days!" said Frank, instinctively drawing Diana Vernon's letter outof his pocket. The time had elapsed, and he was now free to open it. A thin sealed enclosure fell out, and the wandering airs of the prisonwafted it to Bailie Jarvie's feet. He lifted it and at once handed it tothe Highlander, who, after glancing at the address, proceeded calmly toopen it. Frank tried vainly to interpose. "You must first satisfy me that the letter is intended for you, before Ican allow you to read it, " he said. "Make yourself easy, Mr. Osbaldistone, " answered the Highlander, lookingdirectly at him for the first time, "remember Justice Inglewood, ClerkJobson, Mr. Morris--above all, remember your very humble servant, RobertCampbell, and the beautiful Diana Vernon. " The vague resemblance which had been haunting Frank ever since he hadheard this man's voice was now at once made plain. The cloak beingdropped and the man's face turned full upon him, he saw that it wasindeed the same Highland drover who had borne unexpected testimony inhis favour when he was in danger of his life in the house of Mr. JusticeInglewood. "It is a difficult cast she has given me to play, " said the Highlander, looking at Die Vernon's letter, "but I daresay I shall be able to serveyou. Only you must come and visit me in my own country. I cannot hope toaid you on the paving stones of Glasgow. And you, Bailie, if you willcome up with this young gentleman as far as the Clachan of Aberfoil, Iwill pay you the thousand pounds Scots that I owe you. " "Such a journey ill becomes my place, " said the Bailie, doubtfully, "butif I did come, would you really and soothfully pay me the siller?" "I swear to you, " said the Highlander, "by him that sleeps beneath thegrey stane at Inch Cailleach! "But, " he continued, "I must be budging. For the air of the Glasgowtolbooth is no that over salutary to a Highland constitution. " "Ohon, " said the Bailie, "that I should be art and part in an escapefrom justice--it will be a disgrace to me all the days of my life!Aweel, we have all our backslidings to answer for. Stanchells, open thedoor!" The head jailor stared at the two visitors who had gotten into Mr. Owen's cell without his leave, but he was reassured by the Bailie'scareless "Friends of mine, Stanchells, friends of mine!" The party descended to the lower vestibule, and there called more thanonce for Dougal, but without effect. Whereupon Campbell observed, with a quiet smile, that "if Dougal was thelad he kenned him, he would scarce wait to be thanked for his share ofthat night's work, but would now be full trot for the pass ofBallamaha--" "And am I myself, " cried the angry Bailie, "to be locked up in thetolbooth all night? Send for fore-hammers, sledge-hammers, pincers! Sendfor Deacon Yettlin, the smith. And as for that Hieland blackguard, heshall hang as high as Haman--" "When ye catch him, " said Campbell, gravely, "but wait, surely the jaildoor is not locked!" And so it turned out. "He has some glimmerings of sense, that Dougal creature, " added theHighlander; "he kenned that an open door might have served me at apinch!" So saying he sprang into the darkness, and soon the street resounded tolow signal whistles, uttered and instantly replied to. "Hear to the Hieland deevils, " said Mr. Jarvie; "they think themselvesalready on the skirts of Ben Lomond! But what's this?" There was a clash of iron at his feet, and stooping to the causewaycobbles, the Bailie lifted the keys of the jail which Dougal had carriedaway in his flight. "Indeed, " he said, "and that's just as well. For they cost the burghsiller, and there might have been some talk in the council about theloss of them, that I would little like to have heard. It would not bethe first time they had cast up my kin to me, if Bailie Grahame and someothers should get wind of this night's work. " The next morning at the Bailie's hospitable table, Frank Osbaldistonemet Mr. Owen--but altogether another Owen from him of thetolbooth--neat, formal, and well brushed as ever, though still in thelowest of spirits about the misfortunes of the house. They had not long begun when Frank, who could be brusque enough uponoccasion, startled the Bailie by the question, "And pray, by the bye, Mr. Nicol Jarvie, who is this Mr. Robert Campbell whom I met lastnight?" The question, abruptly put, seemed to knock the worthy Bailie all of aheap. He stammered and repeated it over and over, as if he had no answerready. "Wha's Mr. Robert Campbell? Ahem--ahay--! Wha's Mr. Robert Campbell, quo' he?" "Yes, " repeated the young Englishman, "I mean who and what is he?" "Why, he's--ahay! He's--ahem! Where did _you_ meet Mr. Robert Campbell, as you call him yourself?" "I met him by chance, " Frank answered promptly, "some months ago, in thenorth of England. " "Then, Mr. Osbaldistone, " said the Bailie, doggedly, "ye ken just asmuch about him as I do!" "I should suppose not, Mr. Jarvie, " said Frank, "since you are, itseems, both his relation and his friend!" "There is doubtless some cousinship between us, " said the Bailie, withreluctance, "but I have seen little of Rob since he left thecattle-dealing. He was hardly used by those who might have treated himbetter, poor fellow. " More than this for the moment Frank could not extract from Mr. Jarvie, and indeed his father's affairs were naturally the first consideration. As Frank could not help with their business matters and arrangements, the Bailie dismissed him without ceremony, telling him that he might goup to the College Yards, where he would find some that could speak Greekand Latin, but that he must be back at one o'clock "_preceesely_" topartake of the Bailie's family leg of mutton and additional tup's head. It was while Frank Osbaldistone was pacing to and fro in the CollegeYards, that, from behind a hedge, he saw three men talking together. Atfirst he could hardly believe his eyes. For one of them, the very sightof whom caused a disagreeable thrill to pass through his body, was noneother than Rashleigh himself, while the other two were Morris and Mr. MacVittie, --the very three men who could do him the most harm in theworld. At the end of the avenue MacVittie and Morris left the gardens, whileRashleigh returned alone, apparently pacing the walk in deep meditation. Frank suddenly appeared before him, and challenged him to give up thedeeds and titles he had stolen from his father. Rashleigh, whom no surprise could stir out of his cool native audacity, answered that it would be better for his cousin to go and amuse himselfin his world of poetical imagination, and to leave the business of lifeto men who understood and could conduct it. Words grew hotter and hotter between the two young men, till Rashleigh, stung by a reference to Diana Vernon, bade Frank follow him to asecluded place where he would be able to chastise him for his boyishinsolence. Accordingly Frank followed him, keeping a keen watch on his adversarylest he should attempt any treachery. And it was well that he did so. For Rashleigh's sword was at his breast before he had time to draw, oreven to lay down his cloak, and he only saved his life by springing apace or two backward in all haste. In the matter of fence, Frank found Rashleigh quite his match--his ownsuperior skill being counterbalanced by Rashleigh's longer and moremanageable sword and by his great personal strength and ferocity. Hefought, indeed, more like a fiend than a man. Every thrust was meant tokill, and the combat had all the appearance of being to the death. At last Frank stumbled accidentally, and Rashleigh's sword passedthrough his coat and out at the back, just grazing his side, whereuponFrank, seizing the hilt of his antagonist's sword, shortened his gripand was on the point of running him through the body. But thedeath-grapple was put an end to in the nick of time, by the interventionof Campbell, who suddenly appeared out of the bushes and threw himselfbetween them. Rashleigh demanded fiercely of the Highlander how he daredto interfere where his honour was concerned. But Campbell, with a whistle of his broadsword about his head, remindedhim that so far as "daring" went, he was ready to make mincemeat of thepair of them. But though this cooled Rashleigh's temper at once, it wasfar from appeasing Frank, who swore that he would keep hold of hiscousin till he had given up all he had stolen from his father. [Illustration: "THE death-grapple was put an end to in the nick of timeby the intervention of Campbell, who suddenly appeared out of the bushesand threw himself between them. Rashleigh demanded fiercely of theHighlander how he dared to interfere where his honour was concerned. "] "You hear!" said Rashleigh to Campbell; "he rushes upon his fate. On hisown head be it!" But the Highlander would not permit the young man to be ill treated, only for standing up for his own father. He took hold of Frank, however, and by a gigantic effort he caused him to release Rashleigh's coat whichhe had seized in his anger. "Let go his collar, Mr. Francis, " he commanded. "What he says is true. Ye are more in danger of the magistrate in this place than what he is. Take the bent, Mr. Rashleigh. Make one pair of legs worth two pair ofhands. You have done that before now. " Rashleigh, with a last threat of future revenge, took up his sword, wiped it, put it back in its sheath, and disappeared in the bushes. In spite of his struggles the Highlander held Frank till it was vain forhim to pursue Rashleigh, and then Campbell had some advice to give him. "Let him alone, " he said. "I tell you, man, he has the old trap set foryou. And here I cannot give you the same help that I did in the house ofJustice Inglewood. Now go your ways home, like a good bairn. Keep out ofthe sight of Rashleigh, and Morris, and that MacVittie animal. Mind theClachan of Aberfoil, and by the word of a gentleman I will not see youwronged. " On his way back Frank had his slight wound dressed by a surgeon andapothecary in the neighbourhood, who refused to believe his explanationabout the button of his adversary's foil slipping. "There never was button on the foil that made this!" he said. "Ah, youngblood--young blood! But fear not--we surgeons are a secret generation!" And so dismissed, Frank soon found his way back to Mr. Jarvie's familyleg of mutton and tup's head, only a few minutes after the appointedstroke of one. * * * * * III. THE BAILIE FIGHTS WITH FIRE When Frank Osbaldistone, the Bailie, and Andrew Fairservice, set forwardtoward the Highlands, their way lay for the first stage over barrenwastes, with the blue line of the Grampian Hills continually beforetheir eyes. Andrew had as usual tried to cheat his master by getting rid of his ownpony and buying another on Frank's account. But the Bailie soon causedAndrew to recover his old horse on the penalty of being at once haledoff to prison. Night came on before the little party of three arrived at the inn of theClachan of Aberfoil, having previously crossed the infant Forth by anancient bridge, high and narrow. The inn was a mere hovel, but the windows were cheerfully lighted up. There was a sound of revelry within that promised good cheer to hungrymen, and the party were on the point of entering, when AndrewFairservice showed them a peeled wand which was set across the half-opendoor. "That means, " he said, "that some of their great men are birling at thewine within, and will little like to be disturbed. " It proved to be even so. The landlady was most anxious to keep them out. They could get rest and shelter, she promised them, within sevenScottish miles--that is to say, within at least double that number ofEnglish ones. Her house was taken up, and the gentlemen in possessionwould ill like to be intruded on by strangers. Better gang farther thanfare worse. But Frank, being an Englishman and hungry for his dinner, was ready todo battle against all odds in order to get it. The interior of the inn of Aberfoil was low and dark. The smoke of thefire hung and eddied under the gloomy roof about five feet from theground. But underneath all was kept clear by the currents of air thatrushed about the house when the wind blew through the wicker door andthe miserable walls of stone plastered with mud. Three men were sitting at an oak table near the fire. Two of these werein Highland dress, the first small and dark, with a quick and irritableexpression of countenance. He wore the "trews" of tartan, which initself showed him a man of consideration. The other Highlander was atall, strong man, with the national freckled face and high cheekbones. The tartan he wore had more of red in it than that of the other. Thethird was in Lowland dress, a bold, stout-looking man, in a showilylaced riding-dress and a huge cocked hat. His sword and a pair ofpistols lay on the table before him. All three were drinking huge draughts of the Highland drink called"Usquebagh, " and they spoke loudly and eagerly one to the other, now inGaelic, now in English. A third Highlander, wrapped in his plaid andwith his face hidden, lay on the floor, apparently asleep. The three gentlemen were at first unconscious of the invasion. Theycontinued their loud conversation, and it was not until FrankOsbaldistone called the landlady that they paused and looked at them, apparently stricken dumb by his audacity. "You make yourself at home, " said the lesser Celt, in very good English, which however he spoke with an air of haughty disdain. "I usually do, sir, " said Frank, "when I come into a house of publicentertainment. " "And did she not see, " demanded the taller man, "by the white wand atthe door, that gentlemans had taken up the public house on their ainbusiness?" "I do not pretend to understand the customs of this country, " saidFrank, with firmness, "but I have yet to learn how any three persons areentitled to exclude all other travellers from the only place of shelterand refreshment for miles around. " The Bailie here offered a stoup of brandy as an appropriate means ofestablishing a good understanding, but the three natives proceeded tosnuff the air and work themselves up into a passion with the evidentintention of ending the quarrel by a fray. "We are three to three, " said the lesser Highlander, glancing his eyesat the intruding party. "If ye be pretty men, draw!" And so saying, he drew his own broadsword and advanced upon Frank. Theyoung Englishman, knowing the superiority of his rapier to the claymore, especially in the confined space, was in no fear as to the issue of thecombat. But when the gigantic Highlander advanced upon the worthymagistrate of Glasgow, after trying in vain once or twice to draw hisfather's _shabble_, as he called it, from its sheath, --a weapon whichhad last seen the light at Bothwell Bridge, --the Bailie seized as asubstitute the red-hot coulter of a plough, which had been sticking inthe fire. At the very first pass he set the Highlander's plaid on fire, and thereafter compelled him to keep a respectful distance. AndrewFairservice had, of course, vanished at the very first symptoms of astorm, but the Lowlander, disappointed of an antagonist, drew honourablyoff and took no share in the fight. Nevertheless the Bailie, built formore peaceful pursuits, was quickly getting the worst of it, when fromthe floor started up the sleeping Highlander, crying, "Hersel' has eatenthe town bread at the Cross of Glasgow, and by her troth, she will fightfor Bailie Jarvie at the Clachan of Aberfoil!" And seconding words with blows, he fell upon his tall countryman. Asboth were armed with targes made of wood and studded with brass, thecombat was more remarkable for noise and clatter than for seriousdamage. And it was not long before the Lowlander cried out, taking uponhimself the office of peacemaker: "Hold your hands, gentlemen--enoughdone, enough done! The strangers have shown themselves men of honour, and have given reasonable satisfaction. " There was no wish to continue the fray, save perhaps on the part of theBailie's antagonist, who demanded to know who was going to pay for thehole burnt in his bonnie plaid, through which, he declared, any onemight put a kail-pot. But the Bailie, pleased with himself for having shown spirit, declaredthat the Highlander should have a new plaid, especially woven, of hisown clan-colours. And he added that if he could find the worthy lad whohad taken his quarrel upon himself, he would bestow upon him a gill of_aqua-vitæ_. But the Highlander who had been so ready on the Bailie's behalf was nownowhere to be found. The supper was brought in presently, as if thelandlady had only been waiting for the end of the fray in order to servethe repast. The Bailie had from the first recognised the Lowlander as one to whomthe deacon his father had lent money, and with whose family there weremany ties of cordiality and confidence. So while the friendly conversewas thus proceeding indoors, Frank went out to find Andrew Fairservice, and on his way the landlady gave him a folded scrap of paper, sayingthat she was glad to be rid of it--what with Saxons, soldiers, androbbers--life was not worth living on the Highland line! By the light of a torch Frank read as follows, "For the honoured handsof Mr. F. O. , a Saxon young gentleman--These!" The letter proved to be from Campbell, and informed Frank that as therewere night hawks abroad, he must hold no communication with any one lestit should lead to future trouble. The person who gave him the lettermight be trusted, but that in the meantime it would be well to avoid ameeting with "R. M. C. " Frank was much disappointed at this deferring of the hope of aiding hisfather, by recovering the papers and titles which Rashleigh had stolen. But still there was no help for it. And so, after dragging Andrew out ofthe corner of the shed, where he was hidden behind a barrel of feathers, he returned to the inn. Here he found the Bailie high in dispute with his quondam friend, theLowlander Galbraith. The quarrel concerned the Duke of Argyle and theClan Campbell, but most of all a certain freebooter of the name of RobRoy, who, as it now appeared, they were all assembled to pursue and makean end of. North and east the passes were being held. The westland clans were out. Southward Major Galbraith was in command of a body of Lennox horse, andto a certainty Rob Roy would swing in a rope by the morrow's morn. Scarcely were the words spoken when the ordered tramp of infantry on themarch was heard, and an officer, followed by two or three files ofsoldiers, entered the apartment. It gave Frank a thrill of pleasure toremark his English accent, after the Scotch which he had been listeningto ever since he left Osbaldistone Hall. But he liked somewhat less what he was next to hear. The English officerhad received instructions to place under arrest two persons, one youngand the other elderly, travelling together. It seemed to him that Frankand the Bailie answered fairly well to this description. In spite of the protests and threats of the honourable magistrate, heordered them both to follow him in his advance into the Highlandcountry, upon which he was immediately to set out. The letter which Frank had received from the landlady of the inn, beingfound upon him, was held to be evidence that he had been in treasonablecorrespondence with Rob Roy, whose usual initials, indeed, were at thebottom of the note. Next the shock-headed Highlander who had taken theBailie's quarrel upon him, having been captured, was brought before theofficer, and commanded, on pain of being instantly hanged, to lead themto the place where he had left the Mac-Gregor. After long persuasion, some of it of the roughest sort, poor Dougal consented for five guineasto act as guide to the party of soldiers under Captain Thornton--forsuch was the name of the English officer. This sinful compliance of Dougal's angered the Bailie so much that hecried to the soldiers to take Dougal away, because now he deservedhanging for his treachery more than ever. This drew the retort from the Corporal who was acting as hangman, thatif it were the Bailie who was going to be hanged, he would be in nosuch desperate hurry! But Dougal promised to be faithful, and in a few minutes the Englishofficer had paid the reckonings of the three gentlemen whom Frank hadfound drinking at the inn of Aberfoil. The hot and smoky atmosphere ofthe miserable inn was exchanged for the wide hill breezes. But on theirpassage through the villages the hatred of the natives, mostly women andchildren, for the "red soldiers" broke forth into shrill cursing. AndrewFairservice, who alone of the three understood Gaelic, grew pale withterror at the threats which were lavished upon them. "And the worst of all is, " he said, trembling, "that the owercome o'their sang is that we are to gang up the glen and see what we are toget. " IV. THE DROWNING OF THE SPY Whereupon the Bailie took it on himself to warn Captain Thornton thatthe Highlanders, especially under a leader so daring as Rob Roy, were inthe habit of attacking their enemies in narrow passes where regulartroops had no chance against them. But the officer was not to be turnedaside. He had his orders and he meant to carry them out. Rob Roy wascertainly trapped, he said. All the upper passes were in the hands ofthe Highlanders of the western clans. Garschattachin had closed in onthe south with the Lennox Horse. The latest tidings of the freebooterwere in accordance with the information so reluctantly given by Dougal, and were to the effect that Rob Roy had sent away the larger part of hisclan, and was seeking escape alone, or with very few in his company, trusting most likely to his superior knowledge of the passes. Meanwhile Dougal their guide answered with a natural impatience to allcomplaints that he was leading them by difficult or dangerous roads. "If, " he said, with an appearance of reason, "gentlemans were seekingthe Red Gregarach, they must expect some wee danger. And if they likitgrand roads, they should hae bided at Glasgow. " The party was continuing to follow the narrow path by the lake, tillthey came to a halt at a place where the path left the water and climbedupward by several zigzags to the top of a rock, on which the advanceguard reported that they had seen the bonnets of the Highlanders as wellas the shining barrels of their long muskets. The officer now ordered the Corporal with three files to dislodge theenemy from this stronghold. The soldiers accordingly moved forward whileCaptain Thornton, with the rest of his party, followed in support. Butimmediate attack was prevented by the appearance of a woman on the topof the rock. "Stand!" she cried in commanding tones, "and tell me what you seek inMac-Gregor's country. " [Illustration: "THE soldiers accordingly moved forward while CaptainThornton, with the rest of his party, followed in support. But immediateattack was prevented by the appearance of a woman on the top of therock. "'Stand!' she cried in commanding tones, 'and tell me what you seek inMac-Gregor's country. '"] She was tall and imposing in figure. Her features had once beenhandsome, but were now wasted with grief and passion. She wore a man'splaid and belt, a man's bonnet was on her head, and she held a nakedsword in her hand. "That's Helen Mac-Gregor, Rob's wife, " said the Bailie, in a whisper ofalarm; "there will be broken heads before long!" "What seek ye here?" she demanded again of Captain Thornton, who hadadvanced to reconnoitre. "We seek the outlaw Rob Roy Mac-Gregor Campbell, " said the officer; "wemake no war upon women. Therefore offer no opposition to the King'stroops and assure yourself of civil treatment. " "I am no stranger to your tender mercies, " the woman said, "you haveleft me neither name nor fame--neither house nor hold, blanket norbedding, cattle to feed us, nor flocks to clothe us! Ye have taken fromus all--all! The very name of our ancestors ye have taken away, and nowye come for our lives!" "I seek no man's life, " said the officer. "I only execute my orders. Forward there--march!" "Hurrah, boys--for Rob Roy's head and a purse of gold!" cried theCorporal, taking the word from his officer. He quickened his pace to a run, followed by his six men. But as theyreached the first loop of the ascent of the cliff, there came the flashof a dozen muskets from both sides of the pass. The Corporal, shotthrough the body, still struggled to reach the summit. He clung to therock, but after a desperate effort his grasp relaxed. He slipped fromthe bare face of the cliff into the deep lake, where he perished. Of thesoldiers three fell with him, while the others retired as best theycould upon their main body. "Grenadiers, to the front!" cried the steady voice of Captain Thornton, "open your pouches--handle your grenades--blow up your matches--fallon!" The whole party advanced with a shout, headed by Captain Thornton, thegrenadiers preparing to throw their grenades among the bushes, and therank and file ready to support them in a close and combined assault. Dougal, finding himself forgotten in the scuffle, had wisely crept intothe thicket which overhung the road, and was already mounting the cliffwith the agility of a wild-cat. Frank hastily followed his example. Forthe spattering fire, directed on the advancing party of soldiers, theloud reports of muskets, and the explosion of the grenades, made thepath no comfortable place for those without arms. The Bailie, however, had only been able to scramble about twenty feet above the path when, his foot slipping, he would certainly have fallen into the lake had notthe branch of a ragged thorn caught his riding-coat and supported him inmid-air, where he hung very like a sign in front of a hostelry. AndrewFairservice had made somewhat better speed, but even he had onlysucceeded in reaching a ledge from which he could neither ascend nor yetcome down. On this narrow promontory he footed it up and down, much likea hen on a hot girdle, and roared for mercy in Gaelic and Englishalternately, accordingly as he thought the victory inclined toward thesoldiers or went in favour of the outlaws. But on this occasion it was the Highlanders who were destined to win. They fought altogether under cover, and, from the number of musketflashes they held also a great superiority in point of numbers. At allevents Frank soon saw the English officer stripped of his hat and arms, and his men, with sullen and dejected countenances, delivering up theirmuskets to the victorious foe. The Bailie was, however, rescued by "the Dougal cratur, " as themagistrate called him, who cut off the tails of his coat and lowered himto the ground. Then, when at last he was somewhat appeased, on accountof Frank's seeming desertion, he counselled that they should be in nohurry to approach Mac-Gregor's wife, who would certainly be mostdangerous in the moment of victory. Andrew Fairservice had already been espied on his airy perch, from whichthe Highlanders soon made him descend, by threatening him with theirguns and even firing a stray shot or two over his head, so thatpresently he fell to the earth among them. The outlaws stood ready toreceive him, and ere he could gain his legs, they had, with the mostadmirable celerity, stripped him of periwig, hat, coat, doublet, stockings, and shoes. In other circumstances this might have beenamusing for Frank to watch. For though Andrew fell to the earth awell-clothed and decent burgher--he arose a forked, uncased, bald-pated, and beggarly-looking scarecrow. And indeed Frank and the Bailie would soon have shared the same fate, had not Dougal appeared on the scene in the nick of time, and compelledthe plunderers to restore their spoil. So to Helen Mac-Gregor they weretaken, Dougal fighting and screaming all the way, evidently determinedto keep his captives to himself, or at least to prevent others fromclaiming them. With many but (considering the time and occasion) somewhat ill-chosenwords of familiarity, the Bailie claimed kindred with Rob Roy's wife. But in this he did himself more harm than good, for his ill-timedjocularity grated on Helen Mac-Gregor's ear, in her present mood ofexaltation, and she promptly commanded that the Sassenachs should oneand all be bound and thrown into the deeps of the lake. But here Dougal threw himself between the angry woman and her prisonerswith such vehemence that he was able to stave off, at least for a time, the execution of the supreme sentence. These men were, he said, friendsof the Chief and had come up on his assurance to meet him at the Clachanof Aberfoil. But at that very moment the wild strains of the pibroch were heardapproaching, and a strong body of Highlanders in the prime of lifearrived on the scene. It now appeared that those who had fought andbeaten the troops were either beardless boys or old men scarcely able tohold a musket. But there was no joy of victory on the faces of thenewcomers. The pipes breathed a heart-breaking lament. _Rob Roy was taken!_ "Taken, " repeated Helen Mac-Gregor, "taken!--And do you live to say so?Did I nurse you for this, coward dogs--that you should see your fatherprisoner, and come back to tell it?" The sons of Rob Roy, the elder James, tall and handsome, the youngerRobin Oig, ruddy and dark, both hung their heads. And after the firstburst of her indignation was over, the elder explained how Rob Roy hadbeen summoned to bide tryst with--(here Frank Osbaldistone missed thename, but it sounded like his own). Having, however, some suspicion oftreachery, Rob Roy had ordered the messenger to be detained, and hadgone forth attended by only Angus Breck and little Rory. Within half anhour Angus Breck came back with the tidings that the Chief had beencaptured by a party of the Lennox militia under Galbraith ofGarschattachin, who were in waiting for him. Helen Mac-Gregor had now two purposes to carry out. First, she sentmessengers in every direction to gather assistance for an immediateattack on the Lowlanders, in order to effect the rescue of her husband. Second, she ordered the spy, whose false message had sent her husband tohis doom, to be brought before her. For him there was no pity. When he was haled, pale and trembling before the enraged wife of theMac-Gregor, what was Frank's astonishment to discover that he was noneother than Morris, the very same man who had accused him of the robberyof his portmanteau at Squire Inglewood's, and whom he had last seen inthe Glasgow College Yards, walking and talking with RashleighOsbaldistone. A brief command to her followers--and the wretched man was bound. Aheavy stone was tied about his neck in a plaid, and he was hurledinstantly into the depths of the lake, where he perished, amid the loudshouts of vindictive triumph which went up from the clan. INTERLUDE OF EXPOSTULATION "Oh, do go on, " said Sweetheart, actually pushing the narrator's arm, as if to shake more of the tale out of him. "What a perfectly horrid place to stop at! Tell us what happened after. " "Nothing more happened to Morris, I can promise you that!" I replied. "That's not nice of you, " said Sweetheart. "I am quite sorry for the poor man--in spite of all he had done!" "Well, I'm not, " said Sir Toady Lion, truculently, "he deserved it all, and more. He has done nothing but tell lies and betray people all through the story--right from the very beginning. " "Besides, he was afraid!" said Hugh John, with whom this was the sin without forgiveness. "Well, " said Sweetheart, "so am I afraid often--of mice, and rats, and horrid creeping things. " "Huh, " said Sir Toady, crinkling up his nose, "you are a girl--of course you are afraid!" "And I know, " retorted Sweetheart, "two noble, brave, gallant, fearless, undaunted BOYS, who daren't go up to the garret in the dark--_there!_" "That's not fair, " said Hugh John; "that was only once, after father had been telling us about the Hand-from-under-the-Bed that pulled the bedclothes off! Anybody would have been frightened at that. You, yourself--" "Oh, but I don't pretend, " cried Sweetheart; "I don't need to. I am only a girl. But for all that, I went up and lit the candle in a bedroom belonging to two boys, who dared not even go up the stair holding each other by the hand!" "If you say that, I'll hit you, " said Sir Toady. "Will you!" said Sweetheart, clearing for action; "we'll see about that. It's only mice _I_ am afraid of--not cowardly boys!" I hastened to still the rising storm, and in order to bring the conversation back to the subject of Rob Roy, I asked Hugh John if this were not more to his taste in the matter of heroes. "Oh, Rob Roy's all right, " he said; "that is, when once you get to him. But Frank Osbaldistone is just like the rest--always being tied up, or taken round where he doesn't want to go. Besides, he ran away at the battle!" "Well, " said I, "he had no arms, and besides it was not his quarrel. He couldn't fight either for the soldiers or for the Highlanders. At any rate, you can't deny that he did fight with Rashleigh in the College Yards of Glasgow!" "Yes, and he got wounded. And then Rob Roy threatened to lick them both--I don't count that much!" said the contemner of heroes. "But, at any rate, it was something. And he didn't go spooning about after girls--that's good, anyway. " "Don't be too sure, " said Sweetheart; "there's Die Vernon in the background. " "Well, of course, a fellow _has_ to do some of it if he's a hero, " said Hugh John, who has always high ideas of the proper thing; "it's in his part, you see, and he has to--else he wouldn't be respected. But I think if ever I had to be a hero, I would dress up Sir Toady for the girl's part. Then if he monkeyed too much, why--I could welt him well after. But (he added with a sigh), with a girl, you can't, of course. " "Well, anyway, " said Sweetheart, thinking that possibly the tale-teller might feel aggrieved at these uncomplimentary remarks, "_I_ think it is just a beautiful story, and I love the dear Bailie for being willing to go all that way with Frank, and get hung up in the tree by the coat-tails and all!" "Rats!" said Hugh John, contemptuously, "think if he had known _that_, he would ever have left Glasgow--not much!" "Well, it was beautiful, I think, " said Sweetheart, "but I _am_ sorry that they drowned the poor man Morris, especially when he was so very frightened. " But the instant indignant outcry of the boys silenced her. Lochs twelve feet deep, it speedily appeared, ought to be provided by law everywhere over the kingdoms three, for the accommodation of such "sweeps" and "sneaks" and "cowards. " Then Mistress Margaret spoke up for the first time. She had been sitting with her eyes fixed dreamily on the sparkle of the logs in the library fireplace. "What a blessing it is, " she said, "that this is a rainy Saturday, and so we do not need to wait for more. Please go on with the story--JUST where you left off. " And Maid Margaret's form of government being absolute monarchy, I did so, and the result was THE THIRD TALE FROM "ROB ROY" I. IN THE HANDS OF THE PHILISTINES AFTER the victory of the Highlanders and the drowning of Morris the spy, it was for some little while touch-and-go whether the Bailie and Frankshould be made to follow him to the bottom of the loch. But at lastFrank was ordered to go as an ambassador to those who had captured RobRoy, while the Bailie with Captain Thornton and all the other prisonersremained as hostages in the hands of the victorious Helen. This was the message he was to carry to the Sassenach. The whole district of the Lennox would be ravished if the Mac-Gregorwere not set free within twelve hours. Farmhouses would be burned, stack-yard and byre made desolate. In every house there would be acrying of the death wail--the coronach of sorrow. Furthermore, to beginwith, Helen Mac-Gregor promised that if her request was not grantedwithin the time specified, she would send them this Glasgow Bailie, withthe Saxon Captain, and all the captive soldiers, bundled together in aplaid, and chopped into as many pieces as there were checks in thetartan! When the angry Chieftainess paused in her denunciations, the cool levelvoice of the soldier struck in: "Give my compliments--Captain Thornton'sof the Royal's--to the commanding officer, and tell him to do his dutyand secure his prisoner, without wasting a thought on me. If I have beenfool enough to let myself be led into this trap, I am at least wiseenough to know how to die for it without disgracing the service. I amonly sorry for my poor fellows, " he added, "fallen into such butcherlyhands!" But the Bailie's message was far different in tone. "Whisht, man, whisht, " he cried, "are ye weary of your life? Ye'll gie_my_ service, Bailie Nicol Jarvie's service--a magistrate o' Glasgow, ashis father was before him--to the commanding officer, and tell him thatthere are here a wheen honest men in sore trouble, and like to come tomair. And tell him that the best thing he can do for the common good isjust to let Rob come his ways up the glen, and nae mair about it! Therehas been some ill done already, but as it has lighted mostly on theexciseman Morris it will not be muckle worth making a stir about!" So young Hamish Mac-Gregor led Frank Osbaldistone across the mountainsto the place where his father's captors, the horsemen of the Lennox, hadtaken up their position on a rocky eminence, where they would be safefrom any sudden attack of the mountaineers. Before parting he made Frank promise not to reveal, either who hadguided him thither, or where he had parted from his conductor. HappilyFrank was not asked either of these questions. He and Andrew (who, in atattered cloak and with a pair of brogues on his feet, looked like aHighland scarecrow) were soon perceived by the sentries and conducted tothe presence of the commanding officer, evidently a man of rank, in asteel cuirass, crossed by the ribband of the Thistle, to whom theothers seemed to pay great deference. This proved to be no other thanhis Grace the Duke of Montrose, who in person had come to conduct theoperations against his enemy, Rob Roy. Frank's message was instantly listened to, and very clearly andpowerfully he pointed out what would occur if Rob Roy were not sufferedto depart. But the Duke bade him return to those who sent him, and tellthem that if they touched so much as a hair upon the heads of theirhostages, he would make their glens remember it for a hundred years. Asfor Rob Roy, he must surely die! But Frank Osbaldistone pointed out that to return with such a messagewould be to go to certain death, and pleaded for some reply which mightsave the lives of Captain Thornton, the Bailie, and the soldiers whowere captive in Helen Mac-Gregor's hands upon the hostile shores of LochArd. "Why, if you cannot go yourself, send your servant!" returned the Duke. At which Andrew burst forth. He had had, he said, enough and to spare ofHighland hospitality. "The deil be in my feet, " quoth Andrew, "if I go the length of my toeon such an errand. Do the folk think I have a spare windpipe in mypocket, after John Highlandman has slit this one with his jocteleg? Orthat I can dive down at one side of a Highland loch and come up at theother like a sheldrake? Na, na, every one for himself, and God for usall! Folk may just go on their own errands. Rob Roy is no concern ofmine. He never came near my native parish of Dreepdaily to steal eitherpippin or pear from me or mine!" The Duke seemed much affected by the hard case of the King's officer, but he replied that the state of the country must come first, and it wasabsolutely necessary that Rob Roy should die. He held to this resolutioneven when Galbraith of Garschattachin and others of his followers seemedinclined to put in a good word for Rob. He was about to examine theprisoner further, when a Highlander brought him a letter which seemed tocause the great man much annoyance. It announced that the Highlandclans, on whom the Lowlanders had been relying, had made a separatepeace with the enemy and had gone home. As the night was now fast coming on, the Duke ordered Garschattachin todraw off his party in one direction, while he himself would escort theprisoner to a place called Duchray. "Here's auld ordering and counter-ordering, " growled Garschattachinbetween his teeth, "but bide a wee--we may, ere long, play at ChangeSeats--for the King's coming!" The two divisions of cavalry began to move down the valley at a slowtrot. One party, that commanded by Galbraith, turned to the right, wherethey were to spend the night in an old castle, while the other, takingalong with them Frank Osbaldistone, escorted the prisoner to a place ofsafety. Rob Roy was mounted behind one of the strongest men present, oneEwan of Brigglands, to whom he was fastened by a horse-belt passed roundboth and buckled before the yeoman's breast. Frank was set on atroop-horse and placed immediately behind. They were as closelysurrounded by soldiers as the road would permit, and there were alwaysone or two troopers, pistol in hand, riding on either side of Rob Roy. Nevertheless the dauntless outlaw was endeavouring all the time topersuade Ewan of Brigglands to give him a last chance for his life. "Your father, Ewan, " he said, so low that Frank had difficulty incatching the words, "would not thus have carried an old friend to theshambles, like a calf, for all the dukes in Christendom!" To this Ewan returned no answer--only shrugging his shoulders as a signthat what he was doing was by no choice of his own. "And when the Mac-Gregors come down the glen, " the voice of the tempterwent on in Ewan's ear, "and ye see empty folds, a bloody hearthstone, and the fire flashing out between the rafters of your house, ye may bethinking then, Ewan, that were your friend Rob Roy to the fore, youmight have had that safe, which it will make your heart sore to lose!" They were at this time halted on the river-bank, waiting for the signalto bring over the Mac-Gregor. Rob made one last attempt. "It's a sore thing, " said Rob Roy, still closer in the ear of hisconductor, "that Ewan of Brigglands, whom Rob Roy has helped with hand, sword, and purse, should mind a gloom from a great man more than afriend's life. " Ewan, sorely agitated, was silent. Then came the Duke's loud call from the opposite bank, "Bring over theprisoner!" Dashing forward precipitately, Ewan's horse, with the two men on hisback, entered the water. A soldier kept back Frank from following. Butin the waning light he could see the Duke getting his people into orderacross the river, when suddenly a splash and a cry warned him that Robhad prevailed on Ewan of Brigglands to give him one more chance forlife. II. THE ESCAPE In a moment all was confusion. The Duke shouted and ordered. Men rodehither and thither in the fast-falling darkness, some really anxious toearn the hundred guineas which the Duke promised to the captor of hisfoe, but the most part trying rather by shouting and confusion to coverRob's escape. At one time, indeed, he was hardly pressed, several shotscoming very near him before he could lose himself in the darkness. Hewas compelled to come to the surface to breathe, but in some way hecontrived to loosen his plaid, which, floating down the stream, took offthe attention of his more inveterate pursuers while he himself swam intosafety. In the confusion Frank had been left alone upon the bank, and there heremained till he heard the baffled troopers returning, some with vows ofvengeance upon himself. "Where is the English stranger?" called one; "it was he who gave Rob theknife to cut the belt!" "Cleave the pock-pudding to the chafts!" said another. "Put a brace of balls into his brain-pan!" suggested yet another. "Or three inches of cold iron into his briskit!" So, in order to nullify these various amiable intentions, FrankOsbaldistone leaped from his horse, and plunged into a thicket of aldertrees, where he was almost instantly safe from pursuit. It was nowaltogether dark, and, having nowhere else to go, Frank resolved toretrace his way back to the little inn at which he had passed theprevious night. The moon rose ere he had proceeded very far, bringingwith it a sharp frosty wind which made Frank glad to be moving rapidlyover the heather. He was whistling, lost in thought, when two riderscame behind him, ranging up silently on either side. The man on theright of Frank addressed him in an English tongue and accent strangeenough to hear in these wilds. "So ho, friend, whither so late?" "To my supper and bed at Aberfoil!" replied Frank, curtly. "Are the passes open?" the horseman went on, in the same commanding toneof voice. "I do not know, " said Frank; "but if you are an English stranger, Iadvise you to turn back till daybreak. There has been a skirmish, andthe neighbourhood is not perfectly safe for travellers. " "The soldiers had the worst of it, had they not?" "They had, indeed--an officer's party was destroyed or made prisoners. " "Are you sure of that?" persisted the man on horseback. "I was an unwilling spectator of the battle!" said Frank. "Unwilling! Were not you engaged in it?" "Certainly not, " he answered, a little nettled at the man's tone. "I washeld a prisoner by the King's officer!" "On what suspicion? And who and what are you?" "I really do not know, sir, " said Frank, growing quickly angry, "why Ishould answer so many questions put to me by a stranger. I ask you noquestions as to your business here, and you will oblige me by making noinquiries as to mine. " But a new voice struck in, in tones which made every nerve in the youngman's body tingle. "Mr. Francis Osbaldistone, " it said, "should not whistle his favouriteairs when he wishes to remain undiscovered. " And Diana Vernon, for it was she, wrapped in a horseman's cloak, whistled in playful mimicry the second part of the tune, which had beenon Frank's lips as they came up with him. "Great heavens, can it be you, Miss Vernon, " cried Frank, when at lasthe found words, "in such a spot--at such an hour--in such a lawlesscountry!" While Frank was speaking, he was trying to gain a glimpse of hercompanion. The man was certainly not Rashleigh. For so much he wasthankful, at least, nor could the stranger's courteous address proceedfrom any of the other Osbaldistone brothers. There was in it too muchgood breeding and knowledge of the world for that. But there was alsosomething of impatience in the attitude of Diana's companion, which wasnot long in manifesting itself. "Diana, " he said, "give your cousin his property, and let us not spendtime here. " Whereupon Miss Vernon took out a small case, and with a deeper andgraver tone of feeling she said, "Dear cousin, you see I was born to beyour better angel. Rashleigh has been compelled to give up his spoil, and had we reached Aberfoil last night, I would have found somemessenger to give you these. But now I have to do the errand myself. " "Diana, " said the horseman, "the evening grows late, and we are yet farfrom our home. " "Pray consider, sir, " she said, lightly answering him, "how recently Ihave been under control. Besides, I have not yet given my cousin hispacket--or bidden him farewell--farewell forever! Yes, Frank, forever. (She added the last words in a lower tone. ) There is a gulf fixedbetween us! Where I go, you must not follow--what we do, you must notshare in--farewell--be happy!" In the attitude in which she bent from her Highland pony, the girl'sface, perhaps not altogether unintentionally, touched that of FrankOsbaldistone. She pressed his hand, and a tear that had gathered on DieVernon's eyelash found its way to the young man's cheek. That was all. It was but a moment, yet Frank Osbaldistone never forgotthat moment. He stood dumb and amazed with the recovered treasure in hishand, mechanically counting the sparkles which flew from the horses'hoofs which carried away his lost Diana and her unknown companion. * * * * * Frank was still dreaming over his almost unbelievable encounter withMiss Vernon--more concerned perhaps, be it said, about the fact that shehad wept to part with him than about the recovery of his father'spapers, when another traveller overtook him, this time on foot. "A braw nicht, Mr. Osbaldistone, " said a voice which there was nomistaking for that of the Mac-Gregor himself; "we have met at the mirkhour before now, I am thinking!" Frank congratulated the Chieftain heartily on his recent wonderfulescape from peril. "Ay, " said Rob Roy, coolly, "there is as much between the throat and thehalter as between the cup and the lip. But tell me the news!" [Illustration: "IN the attitude in which she bent from her Highlandpony, the girl's face, perhaps not altogether unintentionally, touchedthat of Frank Osbaldistone. She pressed his hand, and a tear that hadgathered on Die Vernon's eyelash found its way to the young man'scheek. "] He laughed heartily at the exploits of the Bailie and the red-hotcoulter in the inn of Aberfoil, and at the apprehension of Frank and hiscompanion by the King's officer. "As man lives by bread, " he cried, "the buzzards have mistaken my friendthe Bailie for his Excellency, and you for Diana Vernon--oh, the mostegregious night owlets!" "Miss Vernon, " said Frank, trying to gain what information he could, "does she still bear that name?" But the wary Highlander easily evaded him. "Ay, ay, " he said, "she's under lawful authority now; and it's time, forshe's a daft hempie. It's a pity that his Excellency is a thoughtelderly for her. The like of you or my son Hamish would have sortedbetter in point of years. " This blow, which destroyed all Frank's hopes, quite silenced him--somuch so that Rob Roy had to ask if he were ill or wearied with the longday's work, being, as he said, "doubtless unused to such things. " But in order to divert his attention Mac-Gregor asked him as to theskirmish, and what had happened afterwards. It was with genuine agonythat Rob Roy listened to the tale which Frank had to tell--though hemodified, as far as he could, the treatment the Bailie and himself hadmet with from the Mac-Gregors. "And the excise collector, " said Rob Roy; "I wish he may not have beenat the bottom of the ploy himself! I thought he looked very queer when Itold him that he must remain as a hostage for my safe return. I wager hewill not get off without ransom!" "Morris, " said Frank, with great solemnity, "has paid the last greatransom of all!" "Eh--what?" cried the Mac-Gregor, "what d'ye say? I trust it was in theskirmish that he was killed?" "He was slain in cold blood, after the fight was over, Mr. Campbell!" "Cold blood!" he muttered rapidly between his teeth, "how fell this?Speak out, man, and do not Mister or Campbell me--my foot is on mynative heath, and my name is Mac-Gregor!" Without noticing the rudeness of his tone, Frank gave him a distinctaccount of the death of Morris. Rob Roy struck the butt of his gun withgreat vehemence on the ground, and broke out, "I vow to God, such a deedmight make one forswear kin, clan, country, wife, and bairns! And yetthe villain wrought long for it. He but drees the doom he intended forme. Hanging or drowning--it is just the same. But I wish, for all that, they had put a ball or a dirk through the traitor's breast. It willcause talk--the fashion of his death--though all the world knows thatHelen Mac-Gregor has deep wrongs to avenge. " Whereupon he quitted the subject altogether, and spoke of FrankOsbaldistone's affairs. He was glad to hear that he had received thestolen papers from Diana Vernon's own hands. "I was sure you would get them, " he said; "the letter you brought mecontained his Excellency's pleasure to that effect, and it was for thatpurpose I asked ye to come up the glen in order that I might serve you. But his Excellency has come across Rashleigh first. " Rob Roy's words made much clear to the young man, yet some thingsremained mysterious. He remembered that Diana Vernon had left thelibrary and immediately returned with the letter which was afterwardsclaimed by Rob Roy in the tolbooth of Glasgow. The person whom he nowcalled his Excellency must therefore have been in Osbaldistone Hall atthe same time as himself, and unknown to all except Diana and possiblyto her cousin Rashleigh. Frank remembered the double shadows on thewindows, and thought that he could now see the reason of those. But Rob would give him no clew as to who or what his Excellency was. "I am thinking, " he said cautiously, "that if you do not know thatalready, it cannot be of much consequence for you to know at all. So Iwill e'en pass over that part of it. But this I will tell you. HisExcellency was hidden by Diana Vernon in her own apartment at the Hall, as best reason was, all the time you were there. Only Sir Hildebrand andRashleigh knew of it. You, of course, were out of the question, and asfor the young squires, they had not enough wit among the five of them tocall the cat from the cream!" The two travellers, thus talking together, had approached within aquarter of a mile from the village, when an outpost of Highlanders, springing upon them, bade them stand and tell their business. The singleword _Gregarach_, pronounced in the deep commanding tones of Frank'scompanion, sufficed to call forth an answering yell of joyousrecognition. The men threw themselves down before the escaped Chief, clasping his knees, and, as it were, worshipping him with eyes and lips, much as poor Dougal had done in the Glasgow tolbooth. The very hills resounded with the triumph. Old and young, both sexes andall ages, came running forth with shouts of jubilation, till it seemedas if a mountain torrent was hurrying to meet the travellers. Rob Roytook Frank by the hand, and he did not allow any to come near him tillhe had given them to understand that his companion was to be well andcarefully treated. So literally was this command acted upon, that for the time being Frankwas not even allowed the use of his limbs. He was carried--will he, nillhe--in triumph toward the inn of Mrs. MacAlpine. It was in Frank's heartthat he might possibly meet there with Diana Vernon, but when he enteredand looked around, the only known face in the smoky hovel was that ofthe Bailie, who, with a sort of reserved dignity, received the greetingsof Rob Roy, his apologies for the indifferent accommodation which hecould give him, and his well-meant inquiries after his health. "I am well, kinsman, " said the Bailie, "one cannot expect to carry theSalt Market of Glasgow at one's tail, as a snail does his shell. But Iam blithe to see that ye have gotten out of the hands of yourunfriends!" The Bailie, however, cheered by Highland refreshment, presently unbentand had many things to say. He would also have spoken concerning HelenMac-Gregor. But Rob stopped him. "Say nothing of my wife, " he said sternly; "of me, ye are welcome tospeak your full pleasure. " Next the Bailie offered to bind Rob's two sons as apprentices to theweaving trade, which well-meant proposition produced from the outlaw thecharacteristic anathema, mostly (and happily) conceived in Gaelic, "_Ceade millia diaoul!_ My sons weavers! _Millia molligheart!_ But Iwould rather see every loom in Glasgow, beam, traddles, and shuttles, burnt in the deil's ain fire sooner!" However Rob Roy honestly paid the Bailie his thousand merks, principaland interest, in good French gold. And Frank quite won the outlaw'sheart by the suggestion that the foreign influence of the house ofOsbaldistone and Tresham could easily push the fortune of Hamish andRobin in the service of the King of France or in that of his Majesty ofSpain. Rob could not for the present accept, he said. There was otherwork to be done at home. But all the same he thanked him for the offer, with, as it seemed, some considerable emotion. Already Frank waslearning the truth that a hard man is always more moved by what one maydo for his children, than with what one does for himself. Lastly he sent "the Dougal cratur, " dressed in Andrew Fairservice'sancient garments, to see them safe upon their way. He had a boat inwaiting for them on Loch Lomond side, and there on the pebbles theBailie and his cousin bade each other farewell. They parted with muchmutual regard, and even affection--the Bailie at the last saying to RobRoy that if ever he was in need of a hundred "or even twa hundred poundssterling, " he had only to send a line to the Salt Market. While thechief answered that if ever anybody should affront his kinsman, theBailie had only to let him ken, and he would pull the ears out of hishead if he were the best man in Glasgow! With these assurances of high mutual consideration, the boat bore awayfor the southwest angle of the lake. Rob Roy was left alone on theshore, conspicuous by his long gun, waving tartans, and the single tallfeather in his bonnet which denoted the chieftain. The travellers arrived safely in Glasgow, when the Bailie went instantlyhome, vowing aloud that since he had once more gotten within sight ofSt. Mungo's steeple, it would be a long day and a short one before heventured out of eye-shot of it again. As for Frank, he made his way to his lodgings in order to seek out Owen. The door was opened by Andrew Fairservice, who set up a joyous shout, and promptly ushered the young man into the presence of the Head Clerk. But Mr. Owen was not alone. Mr. Osbaldistone the elder was there also, and in another moment Frank was folded in his father's arms. III. THE DEATH OF RASHLEIGH * * * * * Mr. Osbaldistone's first impulse seemed to be to preserve his dignity. But nature was too strong for him. "My son--my dear son!" he murmured. The head of the firm of Osbaldistone and Tresham had returned fromHolland sooner than was expected, and with the resources which he hadgathered there, and being now in full credit, he had no difficulty insolving the financial problems which had weighed so heavily upon thehouse in his absence. He refused, however, every tender of apology fromMacVittie and Company, settled the balance of their account, andannounced to them that that page of their ledger, with all theadvantages connected with it, was closed to them forever. Soon after the home-coming of Frank Osbaldistone from the Highlands andhis reconciliation with his father, the great Jacobite rebellion of 1715broke out, in which the greater part of the Highlands burst into aflame, as well as much of the more northerly parts of England. SirHildebrand led out his sons to battle--all, that is to say, with theexception of Rashleigh, who had changed his politics and become a spy onbehalf of the government of King George. But it was not the will of Fate that the name of Osbaldistone shouldmake any figure in that short and inglorious campaign. Thorncliff waskilled in a duel with one of his brother officers. The sot Percie diedshortly after, according to the manner of his kind. Dickon broke hisneck in spurring a blood mare beyond her paces. Wilfred the fool diedfighting at Proud Preston on the day of the Barricades; and hisgallantry was no less that he could never remember an hour together forwhich king he was doing battle. John also behaved boldly and died of his wounds a few days after in theprison of Newgate, to the despair of old Sir Hildebrand, who did notlong survive him. Indeed he willingly laid himself down to die, afterhaving first disinherited Rashleigh as a traitor, and left his muchencumbered estates to his nephew, Frank Osbaldistone. Mr. Osbaldistone the elder now took an unexpected view of his son'sprospects. He had cared nothing for his family in the past--indeed, never since he had been expelled from Osbaldistone Hall to make way forhis younger brother. But now he willingly spent his money in taking upthe mortgages upon the Osbaldistone estates, and he urged upon Frank thenecessity of going down at once to the Hall, lest Rashleigh should getbefore him in that possession which is nine points of the law. So to Osbaldistone Hall went Frank once more, his heart not a littlesore within him for the good days he had spent in it, and especiallybecause of the thought that he would now find there no madcap DieVernon to tease and torment him out of his life. First of all, to make his title clear, Frank had been desired to visitthe hospitable house of old Justice Inglewood, with whom Sir Hildebrandhad deposited his will. As it chanced, it was in that good gentleman'spower to give the young man some information which interested him morethan the right of possession to many Osbaldistone Halls. After dinner in the evening Frank and the Justice were sitting together, when all of a sudden Squire Inglewood called upon his companion topledge a bumper to "dear Die Vernon, the rose of the wilderness, theheath-bell of Cheviot, that blossom transported to an infamous convent!" "Is not Miss Vernon, then, married?" cried Frank, in great astonishment, "I thought his Excellency--" "Pooh--pooh! His Excellency and his Lordship are all a humbug now, youknow, " said the Justice; "mere St. Germains titles--Earl of Beauchampand ambassador plenipotentiary from France, when the Duke Regent scarceknew that he lived, I daresay. But you must have seen old Sir FrederickVernon at the hall, when he played the part of Father Vaughan?" "Good Heavens, " cried Frank, "then Father Vaughan was Miss Vernon'sfather?" "To be sure he was, " said the Justice, coolly; "there's no use keepingthe secret now, for he must be out of the country by thistime--otherwise no doubt it would be my duty to apprehend him. Come, offwith your bumper to my dear lost Die!" So Frank fared forth to Osbaldistone Hall, uncertain whether to be glador sorry at Squire Inglewood's news. Finally he decided to be glad--orat least as glad as he could. For Diana, though equally lost to him, wasat least not wedded to any one else. Syddall, the old butler of Sir Hildebrand, seemed at first veryunwilling to admit them, but Frank's persistence, together with AndrewFairservice's insolence, made a way into the melancholy house. Frankordered a fire to be lighted in the library. Syddall tried to persuadehim to take up his quarters elsewhere, on the plea that the library hadnot been sat in for a long time, and that the chimney smoked. To the old man's confusion, however, when they entered the room, a firewas blazing in the grate. He took up the tongs to hide his confusion, muttering, "It is burning clear now, but it smoked woundily in themorning!" Next Frank ordered Andrew to procure him two stout fellows of theneighbourhood on whom he could rely, who would back the new proprietor, in case of Rashleigh attempting any attack during Frank's stay in thehome of his fathers. Andrew soon returned with a couple of his friends--or, as he describedthem, "sober, decent men, weel founded in doctrinal points, and, aboveall, as bold as lions. " Syddall, however, shook his head at sight of them. "I maybe cannot expect that your Honour should put confidence in what Isay, but it is Heaven's truth for all that. Ambrose Wingfield is ashonest a man as lives, but if there be a false knave in all the country, it is his brother Lancie. The whole country knows him to be a spy forClerk Jobson on the poor gentlemen that have been in trouble. But he's adissenter, and I suppose that's enough nowadays. " The evening darkened down, and trimming the wood fire in the old libraryFrank sat on, dreaming dreams in which a certain lady occupied a greatplace. He chanced to lift his eyes at a sound which seemed like a sigh, and lo! Diana Vernon stood before him. She was resting on the arm of afigure so like the portrait on the wall that involuntarily Frank raisedhis eyes to the frame to see whether it was not indeed empty. But the figures were neither painted canvas nor yet such stuff as dreamsare made of. Diana Vernon and her father--for it was they--stood beforethe young man in actual flesh and blood. Frank was so astonished thatfor a while he could not speak, and it was Sir Frederick who first brokethe silence. "We are your suppliants, Mr. Osbaldistone, " he said; "we claim therefuge and protection of your roof, till we can pursue a journey wheredungeons and death gape for me at every step!" "Surely you cannot suppose--" Frank found words with greatdifficulty--"Miss Vernon cannot suppose that I am so ungrateful--that Icould betray any one--much less you!" "I know it, " said Sir Frederick, "though I am conferring on you aconfidence which I would have been glad to have imposed on any one else. But my fate, which has chased me through a life of perils, is nowpressing me hard, and, indeed, leaving me no alternative. " At this moment the door opened, and the voice of Andrew Fairservice washeard without. "I am bringing in the candles--ye can light them when yelike--'can do' is easy carried about with one!" Frank had just time to rush to the door and thrust the officious rascalout, shutting the door upon him. Then, remembering the length of hisservant's tongue, he made haste to follow him to the hall to prevent hisgabbling of what he might have seen. Andrew's voice was loud as Frankopened the door. "What is the matter with you, you fool?" he demanded; "you stare andlook wild as if you had seen a ghost. " "No--no--nothing, " stammered Andrew, "only your Honour was pleased to behasty!" Frank Osbaldistone immediately dismissed the two men whom Andrew hadfound for him, giving them a crown-piece to drink his health, and theywithdrew, apparently contented and unsuspicious. They certainly couldhave no further talk with Andrew that night, and it did not seempossible that in the few moments which Andrew had spent in the kitchenbefore Frank's arrival, he could have had time to utter two words. But sometimes only two words can do a great deal of harm. On thisoccasion they cost two lives. "You now know my secret, " said Diana Vernon; "you know how near and dearis the relative who has so long found shelter here. And it will notsurprise you, that, knowing such a secret, Rashleigh should rule me witha rod of iron. " But in spite of all that had happened, Sir Frederick was a strict andnarrow Catholic, and Frank found him more than ever determined tosacrifice his daughter to the life of the convent. "She has endured trials, " he said, "trials which might have dignifiedthe history of a martyr. She has spent the day in darkness and the nightin vigil, and never breathed a syllable of weakness or complaint. In aword, Mr. Osbaldistone, she is a worthy offering to that God to whom Idedicate her, as all that is left dear or precious to Frederick Vernon!" Frank felt stunned and bewildered when at last they retired. But he hadsufficient forethought to order a bed to be made up for him in thelibrary, and dismissed Syddall and Andrew with orders not to disturb himtill seven o'clock in the morning. That night Frank lay long awake, and was at last dropping over to sleepwhen he was brought back to consciousness by a tremendous noise at thefront door of Osbaldistone Hall. He hastened downstairs only in time tohear Andrew Fairservice bidding Syddall stand aside. "We hae naething to fear if they come in King George's name, " he wassaying; "we hae spent baith bluid and gold for him. " In an agony of terror Frank could hear bolt after bolt withdrawn by theofficious scoundrel, who continued to boast all the while of hismaster's loyalty to King George. He flew instantly to Diana's room. Shewas up and dressed. "We are familiar with danger, " she said with a sad smile. "I have thekey of the little garden door. We will escape by it. Only keep them afew moments in play! And dear, dear Frank, again--for the last time, farewell!" By this time the men were on the stairway, and presently rapping on thelibrary door. "You robber dogs!" cried Frank, wilfully misunderstanding their purpose;"if you do not instantly quit the house, I will fire a blunderbuss uponyou through the door!" "Fire a fool's bauble, " returned Andrew Fairservice; "it's Clerk Jobsonwith a legal warrant--" "To search for, take, and apprehend, " said the voice of that abominablepettifogger, "the bodies of certain persons in my warrant named, chargedof high treason under the 13th of King William, chapter third. " The violence on the door was renewed. "I am rising, gentlemen, " said Frank, trying to gain as much time aspossible; "commit no violence--give me leave to look at your warrant, and if it is formal and legal, I shall not oppose it. " "God save great George our King, " cried Andrew Fairservice, "I telled yethat ye would find no Jacobites here!" At last the door had to be opened, when Clerk Jobson and severalassistants entered. The lawyer showed a warrant for the arrest of DianaVernon, her father, --and, to his surprise, of Frank himself. Clerk Jobson, evidently well-informed, went directly to Diana's chamber. "The hare has stolen away, " he said brutally, "but her form is stillwarm. The greyhounds will have her by the haunches yet. " A scream from the garden announced that he had prophesied too truly. Infive minutes more Rashleigh entered the library with Diana and herfather, Sir Frederick, as his prisoners. "The fox, " he said, "knew his old earth, but he forgot it could bestopped by a careful huntsman. I had not forgot the garden gate, SirFrederick--or, if the title suits you better, my most noble LordBeauchamp!" "Rashleigh, " said Sir Frederick, "thou art a most detestable villain!" "I better deserved the name, my Lord, " said Rashleigh, turning his eyespiously upward, "when under an able tutor I sought to introduce civilwar into a peaceful country. But I have since done my best to atone formy errors. " Frank Osbaldistone could hold out no longer. "If there is one thing on earth more hideous than another, " he cried, "it is villainy masked by hypocrisy!" "Ha, my gentle cousin, " said Rashleigh, holding a candle toward Frankand surveying him from head to foot, "right welcome to OsbaldistoneHall. I can forgive your spleen. It is hard to lose an estate and asweetheart in one night. For now we must take possession of this poormanor-house in the name of the lawful heir, Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone!" But though Rashleigh braved it out thus, he was clearly far fromcomfortable, and especially did he wince when Diana told him that whathe had now done had been the work of an hour, but that it would furnishhim with reflections for a lifetime. "And of what nature these will be, " she added, "I leave to your ownconscience, which will not slumber forever!" So presently the three prisoners were carried off. Syddall and Andrewwere ordered to be turned out of the house, the latter complainingbitterly. "I only said that surely my master was speaking to a ghost in thelibrary--and that villain Lancie--thus to betray an auld friend that hassung aff the same Psalm-book wi' him for twenty years!" However, Andrew had just got clear of the avenue when he fell among adrove of Highland cattle, the drivers of which questioned him tightly asto what had happened at the Hall. They then talked in whispers amongthemselves till the lumbering sound of a coach was heard coming down theroad from the house. The Highlanders listened attentively. The escortconsisted of Rashleigh and several peace-officers. So soon as the carriage had passed the avenue gate, it was shut behindthe cavalcade by a Highlandman, stationed there for the purpose. At thesame time the carriage was impeded in its further progress by somefelled trees which had been dragged across the road. The cattle also gotin the way of the horses, and the escort began to drive them off withtheir whips. "Who dares abuse our cattle, " said a rough voice; "shoot him down, Angus!" "A rescue--a rescue!" shouted Rashleigh, instantly comprehending whathad taken place, and, firing a pistol, he wounded the man who hadspoken. "_Claymore!_" cried the leader of the Highlanders, and an affrayinstantly engaged. The officers of the law, unused to such promptbloodshed, offered little real resistance. They galloped off indifferent directions as fast as their beasts would carry them. Rashleigh, however, who had been dismounted, maintained on foot adesperate and single-handed conflict with the leader of the band. Atlast he dropped. "Will you ask forgiveness for the sake of God, King James, and auldfriendship?" demanded a voice which Frank knew well. "No, never!" cried Rashleigh, fiercely. "Then, traitor, die in your treason!" retorted Mac-Gregor, and plungedhis sword into the prostrate antagonist. Rob Roy then drew out the attorney Clerk Jobson from the carriage, moredead than alive, and threw him under the wheel. "Mr. Osbaldistone, " he said in Frank's ear, "you have nothing to fear. Your friends will soon be in safety. Farewell, and forget not theMac-Gregor!" * * * * * "_And that_, " I said, "_is all!_" But I was instantly overwhelmed by the rush of a living wave. "No, no, " cried the children, throwing themselves upon me, "you must tell us what became of Rob Roy--of the Bailie--of Dougal!" These demands came from the boys. "And if Diana married Frank, or went to the convent?" interjected Sweetheart. "Well, " I said, "I can soon answer all these questions. Sir Frederick died soon after, but before his end he relieved his daughter from her promise to enter a convent. She married Mr. Frank Osbaldistone instead. " "And lived happy ever after?" added Maid Margaret, who was at the "fairy princess" stage of literature. "Except when she got cross with him, " commented Sir Toady, an uncompromising realist, with pessimistic views on womenkind. "And Rob Roy held his ground among his native mountains until he died. " "Tell us about the Bailie, " said Hugh John; "I liked the Bailie--he's jolly!" I told him that he was far from being alone in that opinion. "The Bailie, " I answered, "lived, as the Maid says, happily ever after, having very wisely married his servant Mattie. He carried on all the northern affairs of Osbaldistone and Tresham, now a greater commercial house than ever, and lived to be Lord Provost of the city of Glasgow. " "Let Glasgow flourish!" cried Sir Toady, spontaneously. And the audience concluded the fourth tale and last from _Rob Roy_ with a very passable imitation of a Highland yell. THE END OF THE LAST TALE FROM "ROB ROY. " RED CAP TALES TOLD FROM THE ANTIQUARY THE FIRST TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY" THE children lay prone on the floor of the library in various positions of juvenile comfort, watching the firewood in the big wide grate sparkle and crackle, or the broad snowflakes "spat" against the window-panes, where they stuck awhile as if gummed, and then began reluctantly to trickle down. As Sir Toady Lion said, "It was certainly a nice day on which to stop IN!" The choice of the book from which to tell the next Red Cap Tale had been a work of some difficulty. Hugh John had demanded _Ivanhoe_, chiefly because there was a chapter in it about shooting with the bow, the which he had read in his school reader when he ought to have been preparing his Latin. Sir Toady wanted _The Fortunes of Nigel_, because the title sounded adventurous. Sweetheart, who has been sometimes to the play, was insistent for _The Bride of Lammermoor_, while as to Maid Margaret, she was indifferent, so long as it was "nice and eecitin'. " But the tale-teller, being in the position of the Man-with-the-Purse (or in that of the House of Commons with regard to the granting of supplies), held to it that, in spite of its "growed-up" title, _The Antiquary_ would be the most suitable. First, because we had agreed to go right through the Scottish stories; secondly, because _The Antiquary_ was one of the first which Sir Walter wrote; and thirdly and lastly, because he, the tale-teller aforesaid, "felt like it. " At this, I saw Hugh John look at his brother with the quick glance of intelligence which children exchange when they encounter the Superior Force. That unspoken message said clearly and neatly, "Pretty thing asking us to select the book, when he had it all settled from the start!" Nevertheless, I made no remark, but with my eyes on the click of Sweetheart's knitting needles (for in the intervals of nursery wars Sweetheart grows a diligent housewife), I began in the restful silence of that snowy Saturday my first tale from _The Antiquary_. I. THE MYSTERIOUS MR. LOVEL As though all the tin pots on a tinker's wagon had been jolted andjangled, the bells of St. Giles's steeple in Edinburgh town, had justtold the hour of noon. It was the time for the Queensferry diligence(which is to say, omnibus) to set out for the passage of the Firth, ifit were to catch the tide of that day, and connect with the boat whichsets passengers from the capital upon the shores of Fife. A young man had been waiting some time. An old one had just bustled up. "Deil's in it!" cried the latter, with a glance at the dial of thechurch clock, "I am late, after all!" But the young man, saluting, informed him that, instead of being late, he was early--so far, that is, as the coach was concerned. It had notyet appeared upon the stand. This information first relieved the mind ofthe old gentleman, and then, after a moment or two, began (no difficultmatter) to arouse his anger. "Good woman! good woman!" he cried down one of the area stairs, commonin the old town of Edinburgh. Then he added in a lower tone, "Doited oldhag! she's deaf as a post. I say, Mrs. Macleuchar!" But Mrs. Macleuchar, the proprietress of the Queensferry diligence, wasin no hurry to face the wrath of the public. She served her customerquietly in the shop below, ascended the stairs, and when at last on thelevel of the street, she looked about, wiped her spectacles as if a moteupon them might have caused her to overlook so minute an object as anomnibus, and exclaimed, "Did ever anybody see the like o' this?" "Yes, you abominable woman, " cried the traveller, "many have seen thelike before, and all will yet see the like again, that have aught to dowith your trolloping sex!" And walking up and down the pavement in front of Mrs. Macleuchar'sbooth, he delivered a volley of abuse each time he came in front of it, much as a battleship fires a broadside as she passes a hostile fortress, till the good woman was quite overwhelmed. "Oh! man! man!" she cried, "take back your three shillings and make mequit o' ye!" "Not so fast--not so fast, " her enemy went on; "will three shillingstake me to Queensferry according to your deceitful programme? Or will itpay my charges there, if, by your fault, I should be compelled to tarrythere a day for want of tide? Will it even hire me a pinnace, for whichthe regular price is five shillings?" But at that very moment the carriage lumbered up, and the two travellerswere carried off, the elder of them still leaning out of the window andshouting reproaches at the erring Mrs. Macleuchar. The slow pace of the broken-down horses, and the need to replace a shoeat a wayside smithy, still further delayed the progress of the vehicle, and when they arrived at Queensferry, the elder traveller, Mr. JonathanOldbuck by name, saw at once, by the expanse of wet sand and the numberof the black glistening rocks visible along the shore, that the time oftide was long past. But he was less angry than his young companion, Mr. Lovel, had been ledto expect from the scolding he had bestowed upon Mrs. Macleuchar in thecity. On the way the two had discovered a kindred taste for antiqueliterature and the remains of the past, upon which last Mr. JonathanOldbuck was willing to discourse, as the saying is, till all was blue. The Hawes Inn sat (and still sits) close by the wash of the tides whichscour the Firth of Forth on its southern side. It was then anold-fashioned hostelry, overgrown on one side with ivy, and with thewoods of Barnbogle growing close down behind it. The host was verywilling to provide dinner and shelter for the two guests, and, indeed, there was a suspicion that Mr. Mackitchinson of the Hawes was in leaguewith Mrs. Macleuchar of the Tron, and that this fact went far to explainthe frequent late appearance of the coach with "the three yellow wheelsand a black one" belonging to that lady, upon the High Street ofEdinburgh. At the Hawes Inn, therefore, the time of waiting before dinner wassufficient for young Mr. Lovel to step out and discover who his amusingand irascible companion of voyage might be. At South Queensferry everyone knew Mr. Oldbuck of Monkbarns. Bred a lawyer, he had neverpractised, being ever more interested in the antiquities of his nativecountry than in sitting in an office among legal documents and quillpens. The death of his brother had made him heir to all his father'sproperty, and in due time he had settled comfortably down to countrylife and Roman inscriptions at the family seat of Monkbarns, near by tothe town of Fairport, the very town to which Mr. Lovel was at thatmoment making his way. Mr. Oldbuck, though equally anxious, was unable to discover anythingabout his travelling companion. He had, however, discussed the elderdramatists with him, and found him so strong in the subject, that hismind, always searching for the reasons of things, promptly set the youngman down as an actor travelling to Fairport, to fulfil an engagement atthe theatre there. "Yes, " he said to himself, "Lovel and Belville--these are just the nameswhich youngsters are apt to assume on such occasions--on my life I amsorry for the lad!" It was this thought which made Mr. Oldbuck, though naturally and ofhabit very careful of his sixpences, slip round to the back of the HawesInn and settle the bill with the landlord. It was this which made himpropose to pay two-thirds of the post-chaise which was to carry themacross to Fairport, when at last they set foot on the northern side ofthe Firth. Arrived at their destination, Mr. Oldbuck recommended Lovelto the care of a decent widow, and so left him with many friendlyexpressions, in order to proceed to his own house of Monkbarns. But no Mr. Lovel appeared on the boards of the theatre at Fairport. Onthe contrary, not even the town gossips, who, having no business oftheir own to attend to, take charge of other people's, could find outanything about him. Furthermore they could say no evil. The Sheriffcalled upon him, but the stranger had evidently fully satisfied the manof law, for on his return home he sent him an invitation to dinner, which was, however, civilly declined. He paid his bills and meddled withno one. All which being reported, more or less faithfully, to theproprietor of Monkbarns, caused the young man to rise in his estimation, as one who had too much good sense to trouble himself with the "bodies"of Fairport. It was five days before Lovel made his way out to the House of Monkbarnsto pay his respects. The mansion had once on a time been the storehouseof the vanished Abbey. There the monks had stored the meal which thepeople dwelling on their lands brought to them instead of rent. Lovelfound it a rambling, hither-and-thither old house, with tall hedges ofyew all about it. These last were cut into arm-chairs, crowing cocks, and St. Georges in the act of slaying many dragons, all green andterrible. But one great yew had been left untouched by the shears, andunder it Lovel found his late fellow-traveller sitting, spectacles onnose, reading the _London Chronicle_. The old gentleman immediately rose to welcome his guest, and havingtaken him indoors, he guided him with some difficulty to the "den, " ashe called his study. Here Mr. Oldbuck found his niece in company with aserving-maid, both in the midst of a thick cloud of dust, endeavouringto reduce the place to some order and cleanliness. The Antiquary instantly exploded, as is the manner of all book-loverswhen their "things" are disarranged. "How dare you, or Jenny either, presume to meddle with my privateaffairs? Go sew your sampler, you monkey, and do not let me find youhere again as you value your ears--" "Why, uncle, " said the girl, who still stood her ground, "your room wasnot fit to be seen, and I just came to see that Jenny laid everythingdown where she took it up. " In the midst of a second discharge of great guns the young lady made herescape, with a half-humorous courtesy to Lovel. It was, indeed, sometime before the young man could see, through the dense clouds of dust(which, as the Antiquary said, had been ancient and peaceful enough onlyan hour ago) the chamber of Mr. Oldbuck, full of great books, litteredwith ancient maps, engravings, scraps of parchment, old armour, broadswords, and Highland targets. In the midst of all crouched a huge black cat, glaring steadily withgreat yellow eyes out of the murky confusion, like the familiar spiritof this wizard's den. So, after showing Lovel many of his most valuable antiquities, and inespecial his treasured books, Mr. Oldbuck gladly led the way into theopen air. He would take his visitor, he said, to the Kaim of Kinprunes. It was on his own land, he affirmed, and not very far away. Arrived at alittle barren eminence, the Antiquary demanded of his friend what hesaw. "A very fine view!" said Lovel, promptly. But this was not the response for which the proud owner was waiting. Hewent on to ask Lovel if he did not see anything remarkable on thesurface of the ground. "Why, yes, " said Lovel, readily, "I do see something like a ditch, indistinctly marked. " At this, however, the Antiquary was most indignant. "Indistinct!" he cried, "why, the indistinctness must be in your owneyes. It was clear even to that light-headed lassie, my niece, at thefirst glance. Here on this very Kaim of Kinprunes was fought out thefinal conflict between Agricola and the Caledonians! The recordsays--let me remind you--'in sight of the Grampian Hills. ' Yonder theyare! _In conspectu classis_, --'in sight of the fleet, '--and where willyou find a finer bay than that on your right hand? From this veryfortification, doubtless, Agrippa looked down on the immense army ofCaledonians occupying the slopes of the opposite hill, the infantryrising rank over rank, the cavalry and charioteers scouring the morelevel space below. From this very _prætorium_--" But a voice from behind interrupted the Antiquary's poetic description, for his voice had mounted almost into a kind of ecstasy. "_Prætorian here--Prætorian there--I mind the bigging o't!_" Both at once turned round, Lovel surprised, and the Antiquary bothsurprised and angry. An old man in a huge slouched hat, a long whitegrizzled beard, weather-beaten features of the colour of brick-dust, along blue gown with a pewter badge on the right arm, stood gazing atthem. In short, it was Edie Ochiltree, the King's Blue-Gownsman, whichis to say, privileged beggar. "What is that ye say, Edie?" demanded Oldbuck, thinking that his earsmust have deceived him. "About this bit bower, Monkbarns, " said the undaunted Edie, "I mind thebiggin' (building) o' it!" "The deil ye do!" said the Antiquary with scorn in his voice; "why, youold fool, it was here before ye were born, and will be here after ye arehanged. " "Hanged or drowned, alive or dead, " said Edie, sticking to his guns, "Imind the biggin' o't!" "You--you--you, " stammered the Antiquary, between confusion and anger, "you strolling old vagabond, what ken ye about it?" "Oh, I ken just this about it, Monkbarns, " he answered, "and what profithave I in telling ye a lie? It was just some mason-lads and me, withmaybe two or three herds, that set to work and built this bit thing herethat ye call the prætorian, to be a shelter for us in a sore timeof rain, at auld Aiken Drum's bridal. And look ye, Monkbarns, dig down, and ye will find a stone (if ye have not found it already) with theshape of a spoon and the letters A. D. L. L. On it--that is to say AikenDrum's Lang Ladle. " The Antiquary blushed crimson with anger and mortification. For indoorshe had just been showing that identical stone to Lovel as his chiefesttreasure, and had interpreted the ladle as a Roman sacrificing vessel, and the letters upon it as a grave Latin inscription, carved by Agrippahimself to celebrate his victory. Lovel was inclined to be amused by the old beggar's demolishing of allthe Antiquary's learned theories, but he was speedily brought to himselfby Edie Ochiltree's next words. "That young gentleman, too, I can see, thinks little o' an auld carlelike me, yet I'll wager I could tell him where he was last night in thegloaming, only maybe he would not like to have it spoken of in company!" It was now Lovel's turn to blush, which he did with the vivid crimson oftwo-and-twenty. "Never mind the old rogue, " said Mr. Oldbuck, "and don't think that Ithink any the worse of you for your profession. They are only prejudicedfools and coxcombs who do that. " For, in spite of Lovel's interest in ancient history, it still remainedin the Antiquary's mind that his young friend must be an actor byprofession. But to this Lovel paid no attention. He was engaged in making sure ofEdie's silence by the simple method of passing a crown-piece out of hisown pocket into the Blue-Gown's hand; while Monkbarns, equally willingto bridle his tongue as to the building of the prætorian, wassending him down to the mansion house for something to eat and a bottleof ale thereto. * * * * * II. THE NIGHT OF STORM The Antiquary continued to hear good reports of his young friend, and, as it struck him that the lad must be lonely in such a place asFairport, he resolved to ask Lovel to dinner, in order to show him thebest society in the neighbourhood--that is to say, his friend, SirArthur Wardour of Knockwinnock, and his daughter Isabella. Sir Arthur was something of an antiquary also, but far less learned andserious than Mr. Oldbuck. Living so near each other the two quarrelledoften about the Pictish Kings of Scotland, the character of Queen Mary, and even other matters more modern--such as the lending of various sumsof money. For Sir Arthur always wanted to borrow, whereas the Antiquarydid not always want to lend. Sir Arthur was entirely careless as topaying back, while Mr. Oldbuck stood firmly rooted upon the rights ofprincipal and interest. But on the whole they were good friends enough, and the Baronet accordingly accepted, in a letter written by hisdaughter, the invitation to Monkbarns. Lovel arrived punctually on the afternoon appointed, for, in theAntiquary's day, dinners took place at four o'clock! It was a brooding, thundery day, sultry and threatening--the 17th of July, according to thecalendar. Mr. Oldbuck had time to introduce his "most discreet sister Griselda" ashe called her, who came arrayed in all the finery of half a centurybefore, and wearing a mysterious erection on her head, something betweena wedding-cake and the Tower of Babel in a picture Bible, while hisniece, Miss MacIntyre, a pretty young woman with something of bright witabout her, which came undoubtedly from her uncle's family, was arrayedmore in the fashion of the day. Sir Arthur, with his daughter on his arm, presently arrived, andrespects, compliments, and introductions were interchanged. The dinnerwas made up chiefly of Scottish national dainties, and everything wentwell, save that the solan goose, a fragrant bird at all times, proved sounderdone that Mr. Oldbuck threatened to fling it at the head of thehousekeeper. As soon as the ladies left the dining room, Sir Arthur and the Antiquaryplunged into their controversies, with a bottle of good port winebetween them, while Lovel set himself to listen with much amusement. The language of the Picts, the building of the earliest EdinburghCastle, with other subjects, on none of which they agreed, made the twowiseacres grow hotter and hotter, till at last the wrath of the man ofpedigree was roused by a chance statement of the Antiquary's that theBaronet's famous ancestor, Gamelyn de Guardover, who had signed theRagman Roll, showed thereby a mean example of submitting to Edward ofEngland. "It is enough, sir, " said Sir Arthur, starting up fiercely. "I shallhereafter take care how I honour with my company one who shows himselfso ungrateful for my condescension. " "In that you will do as you find most agreeable, Sir Arthur, " returnedthe Antiquary. "I hope that, as I was not aware of the full extent ofthe obligation you had done me by visiting my poor house, I may beexcused for not having carried my gratitude to the extent ofservility. " "Mighty well--mighty well, Mr. Oldbuck--I wish you a good evening, Mr. --ah--ah--Shovel--I wish you a very good evening. " And so saying Sir Arthur flounced out, and with long strides traversedthe labyrinth of passages, seeking for the drawing-room of Monkbarns. "Did you ever see such a tup-headed old ass?" said the Antiquary, "but Imust not let him burst in on the ladies in this mad way either. " So Mr. Oldbuck ran after his adversary, who was in great danger oftumbling down the back stairs and breaking his shins over variouscollections of learned and domestic rubbish piled in dark corners. "Stay a minute, Sir Arthur, " said the Antiquary, at last capturing himby the arm; "don't be quite so hasty, my good old friend! I _was_ alittle rude to you about Sir Gamelyn--why, he is an old acquaintance ofmine--kept company with Wallace and Bruce, and only subscribed theRagman Roll with the just intention of circumventing the Southern--'twasright Scottish craft--hundreds did it! Come, come--forget andforgive--confess we have given the young fellow here a right to think ustwo testy old fools. " "Speak for yourself, Mr. Jonathan Oldbuck, " said Sir Arthur, with muchmajesty. "Awell--awell, " said the Antiquary, with a sigh, "a wilful man must havehis way!" And the Baronet accordingly stalked into the drawing-room, pettishlyrefused to accept either tea or coffee, tucked his daughter under hisarm, and, having said the driest of good-byes to the company at large, off he marched. "I think Sir Arthur has got the black dog on his back again!" said MissOldbuck. "Black dog! Black deil!" cried her brother; "he's more absurd thanwomankind. What say you, Lovel? Why, the lad's gone too. " "Yes, " said Miss MacIntyre, "he took his leave while Miss Wardour wasputting on her things. " "Deil's in the people!" cried the Antiquary. "This is all one gets byfussing and bustling, and putting one's self out of the way to givedinners. O Seged, Emperor of Ethiopia, " he added, taking a cup of tea inone hand and a volume of the _Rambler_ in the other, "well hast thouspoken. No man can presume to say, 'This shall be a day of happiness. '" Oldbuck had continued his studies for the best part of an hour, whenCaxton, the ancient barber of Fairport, thrusting his head into theroom, informed the company--first, that it was going to be "an awfu'nicht, " secondly, that Sir Arthur and Miss Wardour had started out toreturn to Knockwinnock Castle _by way of the sands!_ Instantly Miss MacIntyre set off to bear the tidings to SaundersMucklebackit, the old fisherman, while the Antiquary himself, with ahandkerchief tied round his hat and wig to keep them from being blownaway, searched the cliffs for any signs of his late guests. Nor was the information brought by Caxton one whit exaggerated. SirArthur and his daughter had indeed started out to reach their home bythe sands. On most occasions these afforded a safe road enough, but intimes of high tide or when the sea was driven shoreward by a wind, thewaves broke high against the cliffs in fury. Talking earnestly together as they walked, Sir Arthur and Miss Wardourdid not observe the gathering of the tempest till it had broken uponthem. They had reached a deep sickle-shaped bay, and having withdifficulty passed one headland, they were looking with some anxietytoward the other, hoping to reach and pass it before the tide closed inupon them, when they saw a tall figure advancing toward them wavinghands and arms. Their hearts rejoiced, for, they thought, where that manhad passed, there would still be a road for them. But they were doomed to be disappointed. The figure was no other thanthat of the old Blue-Gown Edie Ochiltree. As he advanced he continued tosign to them and to shout words which were carried away by the blast, till he had arrived quite close. "Turn back! Turn back!" he cried, when at last they could hear. "Why didyou not turn back when I waved to you?" "We thought, " said Sir Arthur, much disturbed, "that we could still getround Halket Head. " "Halket Head!" cried the vagrant; "why, the tide will be running onHalket Head by this time like the Falls of Foyers. It was all I coulddo to get round it twenty minutes since. " [Illustration: "THE figure was no other than that of the old Blue-GownEdie Ochiltree. As he advanced he continued to sign to them and to shoutwords which were carried away by the blast, till he had arrived quiteclose. "'Turn back! Turn back!' he cried, when at last they could hear. 'Whydid you not turn back when I waved to you?'"] It was now equally impossible to turn back. The water was dashing overthe skerries behind them, and the path by which Miss Wardour and herfather had passed so recently was now only a confusion of boiling andeddying foam. There was nothing for it but to try to climb as far up the cliffs aspossible, and trust that the tide would turn back before it reachedthem. With the help of the old beggar, they perched themselves upon thehighest shelf to which, on that almost perpendicular wall of rock, theycould hope to attain. But, nevertheless, as the waves leaped whitebeneath, it seemed very far indeed from safety. Sir Arthur, struck with terror, offered lands and wealth to theBlue-Gownsman if he would only guide them to a place of safety. But the old beggar could only shake his head and answer sadly: "I was abold enough cragsman once. Many a kittywake's and seagull's nest have Itaken on these very cliffs above us. But now my eyesight and my footstepand my handgrip all have failed this many and many a day! But what isthat?" he cried, looking eagerly upward. "His Name be praised! Yondercomes some one down the cliff, even now. " And taking heart of grace, he cried directions up through the gatheringdarkness to the unseen helper who was descending toward them. "Right! Right! Fasten the rope well round the Crummie's Horn--that's themuckle black stone yonder. Cast two plies about it! That's it! Now creepa little eastwards, to that other stone--the Cat's Lug, they call it. There used to be the root of an old oak tree there. Canny now! Taketime! Now ye maun get to Bessie's Apron--that's the big, blue, flatstone beneath ye! And then, with your help and the rope, I'll win at ye, and we will be able to get up the young lady and Sir Arthur!" The daring adventurer, no other than Lovel himself, soon reached theplace pointed out, and, throwing down the rope, it was caught by EdieOchiltree, who ascended to the flat blue stone formerly spoken of. Fromthis point of vantage the two of them were able by their united strengthto raise Miss Wardour to safety. Then Lovel descended alone, andfastening the rope about Sir Arthur (who was now utterly unable, fromfear and cold, to do anything for himself), they soon had him besidethem on Bessie's Apron. Yet, even so, it seemed impossible that they could remain there allnight. The wind and the dashing spray every moment threatened to sweepthem from the narrow ledge they had reached. Besides, how was one sodelicate as Miss Wardour to stand out such a night? Lovel offered, inspite of the gathering darkness, once more to climb the cliff, and toseek further assistance. But the old Blue-Gown withheld him. No cragsman in broadest daylight could do such a thing, he asserted. Even he himself, in the fullest of his strength, would never haveattempted the feat. It was death to ascend ten yards. Miss Wardourbegged that neither of them should try. She was already much better, shesaid. Besides, their presence was needed to control her father, who wasclearly not responsible for his actions. Just then a faint halloo came from high above. Edie answered it with ashout, waving at the same time Miss Wardour's handkerchief at the end ofhis long beggar's staff, as far out from the cliff as possible. In alittle while the signals were so regularly replied to, that the forlornparty on Bessie's Apron knew that they were again within hearing, if notwithin reach, of friendly assistance. On the top of the cliffs Monkbarns was heading the party of searchers. Saunders Mucklebackit, an old fisherman and smuggler, had charge of therescue apparatus. This consisted of the mast of a boat, with a yardfirmly fixed across it. Through the ends of the yard a rope ran in twoblocks, and by this Saunders hoped to lower a chair down the cliffs, bymeans of which (said the old smuggler) the whole party would presentlybe "boused up and landed on board, as safe as so many kegs of brandy. " The chair was accordingly let down, together with a second rope--which, being held by some one below, would keep the chair from dashing about inthe wind against the rock. This Saunders called the "guy" or guide rope. Miss Wardour, after some persuasion, mounted first, being carefullybound in the rude seat by means of Lovel's handkerchief and neckcloth, in addition to the mendicant's broad leathern belt passed about herwaist. Sir Arthur, whose brain appeared quite dazed, continued loudly toprotest. "What are you doing with my bairn?" he cried. "What are youdoing? She shall not be separated from me. Isabel, stay with me--Icommand you!" But the signal being given to hoist away, the chair mounted, intentlywatched by Lovel, who stood holding the guide rope, to the last flutterof the lady's white dress. Miss Wardour was duly and safely landed. SirArthur and Edie followed, and it remained for Lovel to make the morehazardous final ascent. For now there was no one left below to help himby holding the "guy" rope. Nevertheless, being young and accustomed todanger, he managed, though much banged and buffeted about by the wind, to fend himself off the rocks with the long pike-staff belonging to thebeggar, which Edie had left him for that purpose. It was only when Lovel reached the safety of the cliff that he felthimself for a moment a little faint. When he came to himself Sir Arthurhad already been removed to his carriage, and all that Lovel saw of thegirl he had rescued from death was the last flutter of her dressvanishing through the storm. "She did not even think it worth while waiting to see whether I was deador alive--much less to thank me for anything I had done!" And he resolved to leave Fairport on the morrow, without visitingKnockwinnock, or again seeing Miss Wardour. But what he did not know wasthat Miss Wardour had waited till she had been assured that Lovel wassafe and sound, having sent Sir Arthur on before her to the carriage. But as the young man was not aware that she had shown him even thislimited sympathy, his heart continued to be bitter within him. It was arranged that he was to sleep that night at Monkbarns. Indeed Mr. Oldbuck would hear of no other way of it. The Antiquary had lookedforward to the chicken pie and the bottle of port which Sir Arthur hadleft untasted when he bounced off in a fume. What then was his wrathwhen his sister, Miss Grizel, told him how that the minister ofTrotcosey, Mr. Blattergowl, having come down to Monkbarns to sympathisewith the peril of all concerned, had so much affected Miss Oldbuck byhis show of anxiety that she had set the pie and the wine beforehim--which he had accordingly consumed to show his good-will. But after some very characteristic grumbling, cold beef and hard-boiledeggs did just as well for the two friends, and while Lovel partook ofthem, Miss Grizel entertained him with tales of the Green Room in whichhe was to sleep. This apartment was haunted, it seemed, by the spirit ofthe first Oldenbuck, the celebrated printer of the Augsburg Confession. He had even appeared in person to a certain town-clerk of Fairport, andshowed him (at the point of his toe) upstairs to an old cabinet in whichwas stored away the very document for the want of which the lairds ofMonkbarns were likely to be worsted in a famous lawsuit before the Courtof Session in Edinburgh. Furthermore, a famous German professor, a verylearned man, Dr. Heavysterne by name, had found his rest so muchdisturbed in that very room that he could never again be persuaded tosleep there. Lovel, however, laughed at such fears, and was accordingly shown by theAntiquary up to the famous Green Room, a large chamber with wallscovered by a tapestry of hunting scenes, --stags, boars, hounds, andhuntsmen, all mixed together under the greenwood tree, the boughs ofwhich, interlacing above, gave its name to the room. Lovel fell asleep after a while, still bitterly meditating on howunkindly Miss Wardour had used him, and his thoughts, mixed with theperilous adventures of the evening, made him not a little feverish. Atfirst his dreams were wild, confused, and impossible. He flew like abird. He swam like a fish. He was upborne on clouds, and dashed on rockswhich yet received him soft as pillows of down. But at last, out of thegloom a figure approached his bedside, separating himself from the wildrace of the huntsmen upon the green tapestry, --a figure like that whichhad been described to him as belonging to the first laird of Monkbarns. He was dressed in antique Flemish garb, a furred Burgomaster cap was onhis head, and he held in his hands a black volume with clasps of brass. Lovel strove to speak, but, as usual in such cases, he could not utter aword. His tongue refused its office. The awful figure held up a warningfinger, and then began deliberately to unclasp the volume he held in hishands. He turned the leaves hastily for a few minutes; then, holding thebook aloft in his left hand, he pointed with his right to a line whichseemed to start forth from the page glowing with supernatural fire. Lovel did not understand the language in which the book was printed, butthe wonderful light with which the words glowed impressed them somehowon his memory. The vision shut the volume. A strain of music was heard, and Lovel awoke. The sun was shining full into the Green Room, andsomewhere not far away a girl's voice was singing a simple Scottish air. INTERLUDE OF WARNING It was the spinner of yarns himself who broke the silence which fell on the party at the close of the first tale told out of the treasure-house of _The Antiquary_. "If I catch you, " were the words of warning which fell from his lips, "you, Hugh John, or you, Toady Lion, trying to hoist one another up a cliff with a rope and a chair--well, the rope will most certainly be used for quite another purpose, and both of you will just hate to look at a chair for a fortnight after! Do you understand?" They understood perfectly. "It was me they were going to hoist, " confided Maid Margaret, coming a little closer. "I saw them looking at me all the time you were telling the story!" "Well, " I said, "just let me catch them at it, that's all!" This caution being necessary for the avoidance of future trouble, I went on to read aloud the whole of the Storm chapters, to the children's unspeakable delight. Hugh John even begged for the book to take to bed with him, which privilege he was allowed, on the solemn promise that he would not "peep on ahead. " Since Sweetheart's prophecies as to Die Vernon, such conduct has been voted scoundrelly and unworthy of any good citizen of the nursery. On the whole, however, I could not make out whether _The Antiquary_ promised to be a favourite or not. The storm scene was declared "famous, " but the accompanying prohibition to break their own or their family's necks, by pulling chairs up and down rocks, somewhat damped the ardour of the usual enthusiasts. As, however, the day was hopeless outside, the snow beating more and more fiercely on the windows, and hanging in heavy fleecy masses on the smallest twigs of the tree-branches and leafless rose stems, it was decided that nothing better could be imagined, than just to proceed with our second tale from _The Antiquary_. But before beginning I received two requests, somewhat difficult to harmonize the one with the other. "Tell us all about Miss Wardour and Lovel. He's nice!" said Sweetheart. "Skip ALL the love-making!" cried Hugh John and Sir Toady in a breath. * * * * * THE SECOND TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY" I. LOVEL FIGHTS A DUEL THE Antiquary, to whom Lovel told his dream, promptly pulled out ablack-letter volume of great age and, unclasping it, showed him the verymotto of his vision. So far, however, from glowing with fire now, thewords remained in the ordinary calm chill of type. But when theAntiquary told him that these words had been the Printer's Mark orColophon of his ancestor, Aldobrand Oldenbuck, the founder of his house, and that they meant "SKILL WINS FAVOUR, " Lovel, though half ashamed ofgiving any credit to dreams, resolved to remain in the neighbourhood ofKnockwinnock Castle and of Miss Wardour for at least some time longer. In vain Oldbuck made light of his vision of the Green Room. In vain hereminded him that he had been showing that very volume to Sir Arthur thenight before in his presence, and had even remarked upon the appropriatemotto of old Aldobrand Oldenbuck. Lovel was resolved to give his love for Miss Wardour one more chance. And indeed at that very moment, under the lady's window at KnockwinnockCastle, a strange love messenger was pleading his cause. Miss Wardour had been trying to persuade old Edie Ochiltree to accept agarden, a cottage, and a daily dole, for his great services in savingher own and her father's life. But of this Edie would hear nothing. "I would weary, " he said, "to be forever looking up at the same beamsand rafters, and out upon the same cabbage patch. I have a queer humourof my own, too, and I might be jesting and scorning where I should besilent. Sir Arthur and I might not long agree. Besides, what would thecountry do for its gossip--the blithe clatter at e'en about the fire?Who would bring news from one farm-town to another--gingerbread to thelassies, mend fiddles for the lads, and make grenadier caps of rushesfor the bairns, if old Edie were tied by the leg at his own cottagedoor?" "Well, then, Edie, " said Miss Wardour, "if this be so, if you feel thatthe folk of the countryside cannot do without you, you must just let meknow when you feel old enough to settle, and in the meantime take this. " And she handed him a sum of money. But for the second time again thebeggar refused. "Na, na, " he said, "it is against our rule to take so muckle siller atonce. I would be robbed and murdered for it at the next town--or atleast I would go in fear of my life, which is just as bad. But you mightsay a good word for me to the ground-officer and the constable, andmaybe bid Sandy Netherstanes the miller chain up his big dog, and I wille'en come to Knockwinnock as usual for my alms and my snuff. " Edie paused at this point, and, stepping nearer to the window on whichMiss Wardour leaned, he continued, speaking almost in her ear. "Ye are a bonny young leddy, and a good one, " he said, "and maybe awell-dowered one. But do not you sneer away the laddie Lovel, as ye dida while syne on the walk beneath the Briery bank, when I both saw yeand heard ye too, though ye saw not me. Be canny with the lad, for heloves ye well. And it's owing to him, and not to anything I could havedone, that you and Sir Arthur were saved yestreen!" Then, without waiting for an answer, old Edie stalked toward a lowdoorway and disappeared. It was at this very moment that Lovel and theAntiquary entered the court. Miss Wardour had only time to hastenupstairs, while the Antiquary was pausing to point out the variousfeatures of the architecture of Knockwinnock Castle to the young man. Miss Wardour met the two gentlemen in the drawing-room of the castlewith her father's apology for not being able to receive them. Sir Arthurwas still in bed, and, though recovering, he continued to suffer fromthe fatigues and anxieties of the past night. "Indeed, " said the Antiquary, "a good down pillow for his good whitehead were a couch more meet than Bessie's Apron, plague on her! But whatnews of our mining adventure in Glen Withershins?" "None, " said Miss Wardour, "or at least no good news! But here are somespecimens just sent down. Will you look at them?" And withdrawing into a corner with these bits of rock, the Antiquaryproceeded to examine them, grumbling and pshawing over each ere he laidit aside to take up another. This was Lovel's opportunity to speak alonewith Miss Wardour. "I trust, " he said, "that Miss Wardour will impute to circumstancesalmost irresistible, this intrusion of one who has reason to thinkhimself so unacceptable a visitor. " "Mr. Lovel, " said Miss Wardour, in the same low tone, "I am sure you areincapable of abusing the advantages given you by the services you haverendered us--ah, if I could only see you as a friend--or as a sister!" "I cannot, " said Lovel, "disavow my feelings. They are well known toMiss Wardour. But why crush every hope--if Sir Arthur's objections couldbe removed?" "But that is impossible, " said Miss Wardour, "his objections cannot beremoved, and I am sure you will save both of us pain by leavingFairport, and returning to the honourable career which you seem to haveabandoned!" "Miss Wardour, " said Lovel, "I will obey your wishes, if, within onelittle month I cannot show you the best of reasons for continuing toabide at Fairport. " At this moment Sir Arthur sent down a message to say that he would liketo see his old friend, the Laird of Monkbarns, in his bedroom. MissWardour instantly declared that she would show Mr. Oldbuck the way, andso left Lovel to himself. It chanced that in the interview whichfollowed Sir Arthur let out by accident that his daughter had alreadymet with Lovel in Yorkshire, when she had been there on a visit to heraunt. The Antiquary was at first astonished, and then not a littleindignant, that neither of them should have told him of this when theywere introduced, and he resolved to catechise his young friend Lovelstrictly upon the point as soon as possible. But when at last he badefarewell to his friend Sir Arthur and returned below, another subjectoccupied his mind. Lovel and he were walking home over the cliffs, andwhen they reached the summit of the long ridge, Oldbuck turned andlooked back at the pinnacles of the castle--at the ancient towers andwalls grey with age, which had been the home of so many generations ofWardours. "Ah, " he muttered, sighing, half to himself, "it wrings my heart to sayit--but I doubt greatly that this ancient family is fast going to theground. " Then he revealed to the surprised Lovel how Sir Arthur's foolishspeculations, and especially his belief in a certain German swindler, named Dousterswivel, had caused him to engage in some very costly miningventures, which were now almost certain to result in complete failure. As the Antiquary described Dousterswivel, Lovel remembered to have seenthe man in the inn at Fairport, where he had been pointed out to him asone of the _illuminati_, or persons who have dealings with the dwellersin another world. But while thus talking and tarrying with his friendMonkbarns, an important letter was on its way to call Lovel back toFairport. Oldbuck had so far taken his young friend to his heart, thathe would not let him depart without making sure that the trouble he readon Lovel's face was not the want of money. "If, " he said, "there is any pecuniary inconvenience, I have fifty, or ahundred, guineas at your service--till Whitsunday--or indeed as long asyou like!" But Lovel, assuring him that the letter boded no difficulty of thekind, thanked him for his offer, and so took his leave. It was some weeks before the Antiquary again saw Lovel. To the greatastonishment of the town the young man hardly went out at all, and whenhe called upon him in his lodgings at Fairport, Mr. Oldbuck wasastonished at the change in his appearance. Lovel was now pale and thin, and his black dress bore the badge of mourning. The Antiquary's gruffold heart was moved toward the lad. He would have had him come instantlywith him to Monkbarns, telling him that, as they agreed well together, there was no reason why they should ever separate. His lands were in hisown power of gift, and there was no reason why he should not leave themto whom he would. Lovel, touched also by this unexpected affection, answered that he couldnot at present accept, but that before leaving Scotland he wouldcertainly pay Monkbarns a long visit. While the Antiquary remained talking thus to Lovel in his lodgings, aletter was brought from Sir Arthur Wardour inviting the young man to bea member of a party which proposed to visit the ruins of St. Ruth'sPriory on the following day, and afterward to dine and spend theevening at Knockwinnock Castle. Sir Arthur added that he had made thesame proposal to the family at Monkbarns. So it was agreed that theyshould go together, Lovel on horseback, and Oldbuck and his womenkind(as he called them) in a hired post-chaise. The morning of the next day dawned clear and beautiful, putting Lovel inbetter spirits than he had known of late. With the Wardour party therecame the German adept, Mr. Dousterswivel, to whom, after offering histhanks to his preserver of the night of storm, Sir Arthur introducedLovel. The young man's instinctive dislike at sight of the impostor wasevidently shared in by the Antiquary, for the lowering of his shaggyeyebrow clearly proclaimed as much. Nevertheless, the first part of the day went well on the whole. Oldbucktook upon himself the office of guide, explaining and translating allthe while, leading the company from point to point till they were almostas much at home as himself among the ruins of the Priory of St. Ruth. But the peaceful occupations of the day were interrupted by the arrivalof a young horseman in military undress, whom the Antiquary greeted withthe words, "Hector, son of Priam, whence comest thou?" "From Fife, my liege, " answered Captain Hector MacIntyre, Mr. Oldbuck'snephew, who saluted the company courteously, but, as Lovel thought, seemed to view his own presence with a haughty and disapproving eye. Captain MacIntyre attached himself immediately to Miss Wardour, and evenappeared to Lovel to take up a privileged position with regard to her. But Miss Wardour, after submitting to this close attendance for sometime, presently turned sharply round, and asked a question of theAntiquary as to the date at which the Priory of St. Ruth was built. Ofcourse Mr. Oldbuck started off like a warhorse at the sound of thetrumpet, and, in the long harangue which ensued, mixed as it was withadditions and contradictions from Sir Arthur and the minister, CaptainMacIntyre found no further chance of appropriating Miss Wardour. He lefther, accordingly, and walked sulkily by his sister's side. From her he demanded to know who this Mr. Lovel might be, whom he foundso very much at home in a circle in which he had looked forward toshining alone. Mary MacIntyre answered sensibly that, as to who he was, her brother hadbetter ask his uncle, who was in the habit of inviting to his house suchcompany as pleased him; adding that, so far as she knew, Mr. Lovel was avery quiet and gentlemanly young man. Far from being satisfied, however, from that moment Captain MacIntyre, with the instinct of a dog that returns home to find a stranger makingfree with his bone and kennel, set himself almost openly to provokeLovel. When by chance the latter was called on by the Antiquary to statewhether or not he had been present at a certain battle abroad, MacIntyre, with an accent of irony, asked the number of his regiment. And when that had been told him, he replied that he knew the regimentvery well, but that he could not remember Mr. Lovel as an officer in it. Whereupon, blushing quickly, Mr. Lovel informed Captain MacIntyre thathe had served the last campaign on the staff of General Sir Blank Blank. "Indeed, " said MacIntyre, yet more insolently, "that is still moreremarkable. I have had an opportunity of knowing the names of all theofficers who have held such a situation, and I cannot recollect that ofLovel among them. " Lovel took out of his pocket-book a letter, from which he removed theenvelope before handing it to his adversary. "In all probability you know the General's hand, " he said, "though I ownI ought not to show such exaggerated expressions of thanks for my veryslight services. " Captain MacIntyre, glancing his eye over it, could not deny that it wasin the General's hand, but drily observed, as he returned it, that theaddress was wanting. "The address, Captain MacIntyre, " answered Lovel, in the same tone, "shall be at your service whenever you choose to inquire for it. " "I shall not fail to do so, " said the soldier. "Come, come, " exclaimed Oldbuck, "what is the meaning of this? We'llhave no swaggering, youngsters! Are you come from the wars abroad tostir up strife in a peaceful land?" Sir Arthur, too, hoped that the young men would remain calm. But Lovel, from that moment, felt that he was to some extent under suspicion, andso, in a short time, he took the opportunity of bidding the companygood-bye, on the plea of the return of a headache which had latelytroubled him. He had not ridden far--rather loitering, indeed, to giveMacIntyre a chance of overtaking him--when the sound of horse's hoofsbehind told him that his adversary had returned to find him. The youngofficer touched his hat briefly, and began in a haughty tone, "What am Ito understand, sir, by your telling me that your address was at myservice?" "Simply, " answered Lovel, "that my name is Lovel, and that my residenceis, for the present, Fairport, as you will see by this card!" "And is this, " said the soldier, "all the information you are disposedto give me?" "I see no right you have to require more. " "I find you, sir, in company with my sister, " said MacIntyre, "and Ihave a right to know who is admitted to her society. " "I shall take the liberty of disputing that right, " replied Lovel, tothe full as haughty in tone and manner. "I presume then, " said the young officer, "since you _say_ you haveserved in his Majesty's army, you will give me the satisfaction usualamong gentlemen. " "I shall not fail, " said Lovel. "Very well, sir, " rejoined Hector, and turning his horse's head hegalloped off to rejoin the party. But his uncle suspected his purpose, and was determined to prevent aduel at all risks. He demanded where his nephew had been. "I forgot my glove, sir, " said Hector. "Forgot your glove! You mean that you went to throw it down. But I willtake order with you, young gentleman. You shall return with me thisnight to Monkbarns. " Yet in spite of the Antiquary the duel was easily enough arrangedbetween these two over-hasty young men. It was the custom of the time tofight about trifles, and it seemed to Lovel that as a soldier he hadreally no honourable alternative. He was fortunate enough to find asecond in the Lieutenant-commander of one of the King's gun-brigs, which was stationed on the coast to put down smuggling. LieutenantTaffril only put one question to Lovel before offering him everyassistance. He asked if there was anything whereof he was ashamed, inthe circumstances which he had declined to communicate to MacIntyre. "On my honour, no, " said Lovel, "there is nothing but what, in a shorttime, I hope I may be able to communicate to the whole world. " The duel thus insolently provoked was to be fought with pistols withinthe ruins of St. Ruth, and as Lovel and his second came near the placeof combat, they heard no sound save their own voices mingling with thoseof the sheep bleating peacefully to each other upon the opposite hill. On the stump of an old thorn tree within the ruins sat the venerablefigure of old Edie Ochiltree. Edie had a message to deliver. He told Lovel that he had been at the Sheriff's that very day, and hadgot it from the clerk himself that a warrant had been issued onMonkbarns's demand for the apprehension of Lovel. The old beggar hadcome hastily to warn the young man, thinking that perhaps it might besome matter of debt. But the appearance of Captain MacIntyre and hissecond, Mr. Lesley, soon informed him otherwise. The antagonists approached and saluted with the stern civility of theplace and occasion. MacIntyre instantly ordered the old fellow off thefield. "I _am_ an auld fellow, " said Edie, "but I am also an auld soldier ofyour father's, and I served with him in the 42nd. " "Serve where you please, " said MacIntyre, hotly, "you have no title tointrude on us. Be off with you--or--" He lifted his cane as if to threaten the old man. But the insult rousedEdie's ancient courage. "Hold down your switch, Captain MacIntyre! I am an auld soldier, andI'll tak' muckle from your father's son--but not a touch o' the wandwhile my pike-staff will hold together!" "I was wrong--I was wrong, " said MacIntyre, relenting, "here is a crownfor you--go your ways. " But Edie refused the money, exhorting the young men to go and fight theFrench instead of each other, if they were so fighting hot. But neitherhis words nor the efforts of the seconds could reconcile MacIntyre tothe man with whom he had from the first resolved to quarrel. The ground was measured out by the seconds, while old Edie stoodunheeded at the side muttering, "Bairns, bairns--madmen, I should rathersay! Weel, your blood be on your heads!" The fatal signal was given. Both fired almost at the same moment. Captain MacIntyre's ball grazed the side of his opponent, but failed todraw blood. That of Lovel was more true to the aim. MacIntyre reeled andfell. Raising himself on his arm, his first exclamation was: "It isnothing--it is nothing! Give us the other pistols!" But the moment after he added in a lower tone: "I believe I have enough, and what's worse, I fear I deserve it. Mr. Lovel, or whatever your nameis, fly and save yourself. Bear witness all of you, I alone provoked thequarrel. " Then raising himself on his arm, he added: "Shake hands, Lovel. Ibelieve you to be a gentleman--forgive my rudeness, and I forgive you mydeath!" Lovel stood dizzy and bewildered, while the ship's surgeon approached todo his part. But presently his arm was grasped by Edie, who hurried himoff the field with the assistance of Lieutenant Taffril, his latesecond. "He is right--he is right!" exclaimed Taffril, "go with him--there, intothe wood--not by the highroad. Let him bring you to the sands at threeof the morning. A boat will be in waiting to take you off to my brig, which will sail at once. " "Yes--fly--fly!" said the wounded man, his voice faltering as he spoke. "It is madness to stay here, " added Taffril. "It was worse than madness ever to have come!" said Lovel, following hisuncouth guide into the thicket. As he went up the valley he realised thebitterness of remorse that comes too late. He had passed that way in themorning, innocent, and now--he had the stain of blood upon his hands. II. THE SEEKERS OF TREASURE Edie guided him along a deep ravine till they came to a precipice ofrock overhung with brushwood and copse. Here completely concealed wasthe mouth of a cave, where, as Edie said, they would be in perfectsafety. Only two other persons knew of its existence, and these two wereat present far away. The cavern was in the shape of a cross, and hadevidently been the abode of some anchorite of a time long past. In thecorner was a turning stair, narrow but quite passable, whichcommunicated with the chapel above--and so, by a winding passage in thethickness of the wall, with the interior of the priory of St. Ruth. Twilight faded into night, and the night itself wore away, while Ediesat telling Lovel all the old-world tales he could lay his tongue to, inorder to keep the mind of the young man from brooding over hissituation. They sat close together on a little watch-tower niched deepin the wall, and breathed the night air, while waiting for the hour atwhich they must betake them to the beach, to meet the boat whichLieutenant Taffril was to have in readiness. Midnight approached, the moon rose high in the sky above, but the voiceof the Blue-Gown still droned on, telling his tales of old time, whensuddenly Lovel, whose ears were quicker, laid his hand on hiscompanion's arm. "Hush, " he whispered, "I hear some one speaking!" So saying Lovel pointed in the direction of the sound, --toward the doorof the chancel at the west end of the building, where a carved windowlet in a flood of moonlight upon the floor. Two human figures detached themselves from the darkness and advanced. The lantern which one of them carried gleamed pale in the brightmoonlight. It was evident in a moment by their motions that they couldnot be officers searching for Lovel. As they approached nearer, thebeggar recognised the two figures as those of Dousterswivel and SirArthur. Lovel was about to retreat, but a touch on the arm from the oldBlue-Gown convinced him that his best course was to remain quiet wherehe was. In case of any alarm, there was always the passage behind, andthey could gain the shelter of the wood long before any pursuit would bepossible. Dousterswivel was evidently making some proposition about which SirArthur was uncertain. "Great expense--great expense!" were the first words they heard himmutter. "Expenses--to be sure, " said Dousterswivel; "there must be greatexpenses. You do not expect to reap before you do sow the seed. Now, SirArthur, you have sowed this night a little pinch of ten guineas, and ifyou do not reap the big harvest, it is because you have only sowed alittle pinch of seed. Much seed sown, much harvest reaped. That is theway to find treasure. You shall see, Sir Arthur, mine worthy patron!" The German now put before his dupe a little silver plate engravedwith strange signs, squares of nine times nine figures, flyingserpents with turkey-cocks' heads, and other wonderful things. Then having professed to lay out the baronet's ten guineas in what hecalled "suffumigations, "--that is, to scare away the demons which keptguard over the treasures, --he informed him that he was ready to proceed. The treasure itself could not be obtained till the stroke of midnight. But in the meanwhile he was willing to show Sir Arthur the guardiandemon of the treasure-house, which, "like one fierce watchdog" (as thepretended wizard explained), could be called up by his magic power. But Sir Arthur was not particularly keen to see such marvels. He thoughtthey had little enough time as it was, and if he could get thetreasures, he preferred, supposing it to be the same thing to his guide, to let sleeping demons lie. "But I could show you the spirit very well, " said Dousterswivel. "Iwould draw a circle with a pentagon, and make my suffumigation withinit, while you kept the demon at bay with a drawn sword. You would seefirst a hole open in the solid wall. Then through it would come one stagpursued by three black greyhounds. They would pull him down, and thenone black ugly negro would appear and take the stag from them. Then, paff! all would be gone. After that horns would be winded, and in wouldcome the great Peolphan, the Mighty Hunter of the North, mounted on hisblack steed--but you are sure that you do not care to see all this?" "Why, I am not afraid, " said the poor baronet, "that is, if--do anymishaps ever happen on such occasions?" "Bah--mischiefs, no!" said the German. "Sometimes if the circle be noquite just, or the beholder be frightened and not hold the sword firmand straight toward him, the Great Hunter will take his advantage, anddrag him exorcist out of the circle and throttle him. That happensometimes. " This was quite enough for Sir Arthur, who did not desire any intercoursewith demons on such terms. Whereupon Dousterswivel, the time of midnight being near, set fire to alittle pile of chips, which instantly burned up with a bright light. Then when the flame was at its highest, he cast into the blaze a handfulof perfumes which smoked with a strong and pungent odour. This made bothDousterswivel and his pupil cough and sneeze heartily, and by and by, the vapour mounting upward, it found out Lovel and Edie in their highwatch-tower, making them also sneeze loudly in their turn. "Was that an echo? Or are there others present in this place?" cried thebaronet, astonished at the sound. "No, no, " said the German, who had so long employed himself with magicthat he had grown half to believe in it, "no--at least, I hope not!" Here a complete fit of sneezing, together with a kind of hollowgrunting cough from Edie Ochiltree, so alarmed the wizard that he wouldhave fled at once, had not Sir Arthur prevented him by force. "You juggling villain, " cried the baronet, whom impending ruin madedesperate, "this is some trick of yours to get off fulfilling yourbargain. Show me the treasure you have promised, or by the faith of aruined man, I will send you where you will see spirits enough!" "Consider, my honoured patron, " said the now thoroughly frightenedtreasure-seeker, "this is not the best treatment. And then the demons--" [Illustration: "AT this moment Edie Ochiltree, entering fully into thespirit of the scene, gave vent to a prolonged and melancholy howl. Dousterswivel flung himself on his knees. 'Dear Sir Arthurs, ' he cried, 'let us go--or at least let _me_ go!' 'No, you cheating scoundrel, ' cried the knight, unsheathing his sword, 'that shift shall not serve you. I will see the treasure before I leavethis place--or I will run my sword through you as an impostor, thoughall the spirits of the dead should rise around us!'"] At this moment Edie Ochiltree, entering fully into the spirit of thescene, gave vent to a prolonged and melancholy howl. Dousterswivel flung himself on his knees. "Dear Sir Arthurs, " he cried, "let us go--or at least let _me_ go!" "No, you cheating scoundrel, " cried the knight, unsheathing his sword, "that shift shall not serve you. I will see the treasure before I leavethis place--or I will run my sword through you as an impostor, thoughall the spirits of the dead should rise around us!" "For the love of Heaven, be patient, mine honoured patron, " said theGerman, "you shall have all the treasure I knows of--you shall, indeed!But do not speak about the spirits. It makes them angry!" Muttering exorcisms and incantations all the while, Dousterswivelproceeded to a flat stone in the corner, which bore on its surface thecarved likeness of an armed warrior. He muttered to Sir Arthur: "Mine patrons, it is here! God save us all!" Together they managed to heave up the stone, and then Dousterswivel witha mattock and shovel proceeded to dig. He had not thrown out manyspadefuls, when something was heard to ring on the ground with the soundof falling metal. Then the treasure-seeker, snatching up the objectwhich his mattock had thrown out, exclaimed: "On mine dear word, minepatrons, this is all. I mean all that we can do to-night!" "Let me see it, " said Sir Arthur, sternly, "I will be satisfied--I willjudge with my own eyes!" He held the object up in the light of the lantern. It was a small caseof irregular shape, which, from the joyful exclamation of the baronet, seemed to be filled with coin. "Ah!" said Sir Arthur; "this is good luck, indeed. This is a beginning. We will try again at the very next change of the moon. That six hundredpounds I owe to Goldieword would be ruin indeed unless I can findsomething to meet it. But this puts new hope into me!" But now Dousterswivel was more than ever eager to be gone, and hehurried Sir Arthur away with his treasure, having only taken time tothrust back the earth and replace the tombstone roughly in its place, soas to leave no very obvious traces of the midnight search for treasure. III. MISTICOT'S GRAVE The hour of going to meet the boat was now approaching, and Edieconducted Lovel by a solitary path through the woods to the sea-shore. There in the first level beams of the rising sun, they saw the littlegun-brig riding at anchor in the offing. Taffril himself met his friend, and eased Lovel's mind considerably by telling him that CaptainMacIntyre's wound, though doubtful, was far from desperate, and that hetrusted a short cruise would cover all the consequences of hisunfortunate encounter. Lovel offered gold to the beggar, but Edie once more refused it, declaring that he thought all the folk had "gone clean daft. " "I have had more gold offered to me these last two or three weeks, " hesaid, "than I have seen in all my life before. Na, na, take back yourguineas, and for luck let me have but one lily-white shilling!" The boat put off toward the lieutenant's brig, impelled by six stoutrowers. Lovel saw the old beggar wave his blue bonnet to him, beforeturning slowly about as if to resume his customary wanderings from farmto farm, and from village to village. * * * * * So excellently well did Captain MacIntyre progress toward recovery thatin a little while the Antiquary declared it clean impossible for him toget a single bite of breakfast, or have his wig made decent, or a sliceof unburnt toast to eat--all because his womenfolk were in constantattendance upon the wounded Captain, whose guns and spaniels filled thehouse, and for whom even the faithful Caxon ran messages, while his ownmaster waited for him in his chamber, fuming and stamping the while. But as his sister often said, and as all who knew him, knew--"Monkbarns's bark was muckle waur than his bite. " But an unexpected visit from Sir Arthur soon gave the Antiquary othermatters to think about. The Baronet came, so he said, to ask his oldfriend's advice about the disposal of a sum of money. The Antiquarydrew from a right-hand corner of his desk a red-covered book, of whichSir Arthur hated the very sight, and suggested that if he had money todispose of, it might be as well to begin by clearing off encumbrances, of which the debt marked in his own red book accounted for no less thaneleven hundred and thirteen pounds. But Sir Arthur put away the red bookas if Monkbarns had offered him so much physic, and hastened to say thatif the Antiquary would wait a few days, he would have the sum infull--that is, if he would take it in bullion. The Antiquary inquired from what Eldorado this treasure was forthcoming. "Not far from here, " said Sir Arthur, confidently, "and now I think ofit, you shall see the whole process in working, on one small condition. " "And what is that?" inquired the Antiquary. "That it will be necessary to give me your friendly assistance, byadvancing the small sum of one hundred pounds. " The Antiquary, who had been rejoicing in the hope of getting bothprincipal and interest of a debt which he had long thought desperate, could only gasp out the words, "Advance one hundred pounds!" "Yes, my good sir, " said Sir Arthur, "but upon the best possiblesecurity of having it repaid in the course of a few days. " To this the Antiquary said nothing. He had heard the like before fromSir Arthur's lips. So the Baronet went on to explain. "Mr. Dousterswivelhaving discovered--" But the Antiquary would not listen. His eyes sparkled with indignation. "Sir Arthur, " he said, "I have so often warned you against that rascallyquack, that I wonder you quote him to me!" But this time Sir Arthur had something to show for his faith in theexpert. He placed a large ram's horn with a copper cover in his friend'shand. It contained Scottish, English, and foreign coins of the fifteenthand sixteenth centuries. Most were silver but some were of gold, and, aseven the Antiquary allowed, of exceeding rarity. "These, " said the Baronet, "were found at midnight, at the last fullmoon, in the ruins of St. Ruth's Priory, in the course of an experimentof which I was myself the witness. " "Indeed, " said Oldbuck, "and what means of discovery did you employ?" "Only a simple suffumigation, " said the Baronet, "accompanied byavailing ourselves of a suitable planetary hour. " "Simple suffumigation! Simple nonsensification! Planetaryhour--planetary fiddlestick! My dear Sir Arthur, the fellow has made agull of you under ground, and now he would make a gull of you aboveground!" "Well, Mr. Oldbuck, " said the Baronet, "I am obliged to you for youropinion of my discernment, but you will at least give me credit forseeing what I say I saw!" "I will give you credit for saying that you saw what you _thought_ yousaw!" "Well, then, " said the Baronet, "as there is a heaven above us, Mr. Oldbuck, I saw with my own eyes these coins dug out of the chancel ofSt. Ruth's at midnight! And if I had not been there, I doubt ifDousterswivel would have had the courage to go through with it!" The Antiquary inquired how much the discovery had cost. "Only ten guineas, " said the Baronet, "but this time it is to cost ahundred and fifty pounds, but of course the results will be inproportion. Fifty I have already given him, and the other hundred Ithought you might be able to assist me with. " The Antiquary mused. "This cannot be meant as a parting blow, " he said; "it is not ofconsequence enough. He will probably let you win this game also, assharpers do with raw gamesters. Sir Arthur, will you permit me to speakto Dousterswivel? I think I can recover the treasure for you withoutmaking any advance of money. " Dousterswivel had on his part no desire to see the Laird of Monkbarns. He was more in fear of him than even of the spirits of the night. Stillhe could not refuse, when summoned to leave Sir Arthur's carriage andface the two gentlemen in the study at Monkbarns. The Antiquary then and there told him that he and Sir Arthur proposed totrench the whole area of the chancel of St. Ruth, in plain daylight, with good substantial pickaxes and shovels, and so, without furtherexpense, ascertain for themselves the truth as to the existence of thishidden treasure. "Bah, " said the German, "you will not find one copper thimble. But it isas Sir Arthur likes--once I have showed him the real method. If he likesto try others, he only loses the gold and the silver, that is all!" The journey to the Priory was made in silence, each of the party havingenough on his mind to employ his thoughts. Edie Ochiltree joined them atthe ruins, and when the Antiquary pulled out of his pocket the ram'shorn in which the coins had been found, Edie claimed it at once for asnuff-box of his which he had bartered with a miner at Mr. Dousterswivel's excavations in Glen Withershins. "And that brings it very near a certain friend of ours, " said theAntiquary to Sir Arthur. "I trust we shall be as successful to-daywithout having to pay for it. " It was decided to begin operations at the tomb with the carven figureon top--the same which Sir Arthur and Dousterswivel had disturbed on aformer occasion, but which neither the Antiquary nor Edie everremembered to have seen before. It appeared, however, that a large pileof rubbish, which had formerly filled up the corner of the ruins, musthave been dispersed in order to bring it to light. But the diggers reached the bottom of the grave, without finding eithertreasure or coffin. "Some cleverer chield has been before us, " said one of the men. But Edie pushed them impatiently aside, and leaping into the grave, hecried, "Ye are good seekers, but bad finders!" For the first stroke of his pike-staff into the bottom of the pit hitupon something hard and resisting. All now crowded around. The labourers resumed their task with good-will, and soon a broad surface of wood was laid bare, and a heavy chest wasraised to the surface, the lid of which, being forced with a pickaxe, displayed, beneath coarse canvas bags and under a quantity of oakum, alarge number of ingots of solid silver. The Antiquary inspected them one by one, always expecting that the lowerlayers would prove to be less valuable. But he was at last obliged toadmit that the Baronet had really and truly possessed himself oftreasure to the amount of about one thousand pounds. It chanced that Edie Ochiltree had observed Dousterswivel stand somewhatdisconsolate and sad, looking into the open grave. Age had not dulledEdie's wit, nor caused him to relish less a boyish prank. His quick eyehad caught some writing on the lid of the box of treasure, and while allwere admiring the solid ingots of precious metal laid bare before them, Edie kicked the piece of wood aside without being observed by any one. Then, with all due caution, he whispered to Dousterswivel that theremust certainly be more and better treasure yet to be brought to light inthe place where the silver had been found, and that if he would waitonly a little behind the others he would show him proof of it. When theywere alone he showed him on the lid of the treasure-chest the words, written in black letter: "=Search--Number One=" Dousterswivel at once agreed to meet Edie at midnight within the ruinsof the Priory, and he kept his word. It was a stormy night, great cloudsbeing hurried across the face of the moon, and the woods were bendingand moaning in the fierce blast. Edie marched up and down while hewaited for the German, shouldering his pike-staff, and dreaming that hewas back again on the outposts with a dozen hostile riflemen hidden infront of him. After a little, Dousterswivel arrived, having brought with him a horseand saddle-bags in which to carry away the expected treasure. Edie ledhim once more to the place of the former search--to the grave of theArmed Knight. On the way he told his companion the tale of that MalcolmMisticot whose treasure was supposed to have been found and rifled thatday. "There is a story that the Misticot walks, " said Edie; "it's an awesomenicht and an uncanny to be meeting the like of him here. Besides hemight not be best pleased to come upon us when we were trying to lifthis treasure!" "For the love of Heaven, " said Dousterswivel, "say nothing at all, either about somebodies or nobodies!" Edie leaped into the grave and began to strike; but he soon tired orpretended to tire. So he called out to the German that turn and turnabout was fair play. Whereupon, fired with the desire for wealth, Dousterswivel began to strike and shovel the earth with all his might, while Edie encouraged him, standing very much at his ease by the side ofthe hole. "At it again, " he cried; "strike--strike! What for are ye stopping, man?" "Stopping, " cried the German, angrily, looking out of the grave at histormentor; "I am down at the bed-rock, I tell you!" "And that's the likeliest place of any, " said Edie; "it will just be abig broad stone laid down to cover the treasure. Ah, that's it! Therewas a Wallace stroke indeed! It's broken! Hurrah, boys, there goesRingan's pickaxe! It's a shame o' the Fairport folk to sell such frailgear. Try the shovel; at it again, Maister Dousterdeevil!" But this time the German, without replying, leaped out of the pit, andshouted in a voice that trembled with anger, "Does you know, Mr. EdieOchiltree, who it is you are putting off your gibes and your jests upon?You base old person, I will cleave your skull-piece with this shovels!" "Ay, " said Edie, "and where do ye think my pike-staff would be a' thetime?" But Dousterswivel, growing more and more furious, heaved up the brokenpickaxe to smite his tormentor dead--which, indeed, he might have donehad not Edie, suddenly pointing with his hand, exclaimed in a sternvoice, "Do ye think that heaven and earth will suffer ye to murder anauld man that gate--a man that might be your father? _Look behind you, man!_" Dousterswivel turned, and beheld, to his utter astonishment, a tall darkfigure standing close behind him. Whether this was the angry Misticot ornot, the newcomer certainly lifted a sturdy staff and laid it across therascal's back, bestowing on him half-a-dozen strokes so severe that hefell to the ground, where he lay some minutes half unconscious with painand terror. When the German came to himself, he was lying close to Misticot's opengrave on the soft earth which had been thrown out. He began to turn hismind to projects of revenge. It must, he thought, be either Monkbarns orSir Arthur who had done this, in order to be revenged upon him. And hismind finally deciding upon the latter, as most likely to have set EdieOchiltree on to deceive him, he determined from that moment to achievethe ruin of his "dear and honoured patron" of the last five years. As he left the precincts of the ruined Priory, he continued his vows ofvengeance against Edie and all associated with him. He had, he declaredaloud, been assaulted and murdered, besides being robbed of fifty poundsas well. He would, on the very next day, put the law in motion "againstall the peoples"--but against Edie Ochiltree first of all. A QUITE SUPERFLUOUS INTERLUDE The snow was now deep in the woods about the library. It lay sleek and drifted upon the paths, a broad-flaked, mortar-like snow, evidently produced on the borderland between thawing and freezing. "It is fine and buttery, " said Hugh John, with a glance of intention at Sir Toady Lion, which was equal to any challenge ever sent from Douglas to Percy--or even that which Mr. Lesley carried for Hector MacIntyre to Mr. Lovel's Fairport lodgings. Sir Toady nodded with fierce willingness. He scented the battle from afar. "Ten yards then, twenty snowballs made before you begin, and then go as you please. But no rushing in, before first volley!" "And no holding the balls under the drip of the kitchen roof!" said Hugh John, who had suffered from certain Toady Lionish practices which personally he scorned. "Well, then, " said I, "out you go in your jerseys for one hot half-hour. But no standing about, mind!" Sweetheart and Maid Margaret looked exceedingly wistful. "Of course, " I said, "Sweetheart will want to go on with her knitting, but if she likes, the Maid can watch them from the window. " "Oo-oh!" said Maid Margaret, "I _should_ like to go too!" "And I should not mind going either, " admitted Sweetheart, "just to see that they did not hurt the Maid. They are such rough boys!" So it was arranged, as I had known it would be from the first. The snow was still falling, but the wind had gone down. There was to be no standing still, and afterward they were to change immediately for dinner. These were the conditions of permitted civil strife. "Please, is rolling in the snow permitted?" said Hugh John, to whom this was a condition of importance. "Why, yes, " said I, "that is, if you catch the enemy out of his intrenchments. " "Um-m-m-m!" said Hugh John, grimly rubbing his hands, "I'll catch him. " In a lower tone he added, "And I'll teach him to put snowballs in the drip!" As he spoke, he mimicked the motions of one who shoves snow down inside the collar of his adversary. The cover of a deal box, with a soap advertisement on it, made a very fair intrenching tool, and soon formidable snow-works could be seen rising rapidly on the slopes of the clothes' drying ground, making a semicircle about that corner which contained the big iron swing, erect on its two tall posts. Hugh John and Maid Margaret, the attacking party, were still invisible, probably concocting a plan. But Sweetheart and Sir Toady, laughing and jesting as at some supreme stratagem, were busily employed throwing up the snow till it was nearly breast-high. The formation of the ground was in their favour. It fell away rapidly on all sides, except to the north, where the position was made impregnable by a huge prickly hedge. Nominally they were supposed to be enacting _The Antiquary_, but actually I could not see that the scene without bore any precise relation to what they had been hearing within. Perhaps, however, the day was too cold and stormy for standing upon the exactitudes of history. I did not remain all the time a spectator of the fray. The stated duel of twenty balls was over before I again reached the window. The combatants had entered upon the go-as-you-please stage. Indeed, I could gather so much even at my desk, by the confusion of yells and slogans emitted by the contending parties. Presently the cry of "It's not fair!" brought me to the window. Hugh John and Maid Margaret had evidently gained a certain preliminary success. For they had been able to reach a position from which (with long poles used at other times for the protection of the strawberry beds) they were enabled, under shelter themselves, to shake the branches of the big tree which overshadowed the swing and the position of the enemy. Every twig and branch was, of course, laden with snow, and masses fell in rapid succession upon the heads of the defenders. This was annoying at first, but at a word from Sir Toady, Sweetheart and he seized their intrenching tools, calling out: "Thank you--thank you! It's helping us so much! We've been wanting that badly! All our snow was gone, and we had to make balls off the ramparts. But now it's all right. Thank you--thank you!" The truth of this grew so evident that the baffled assailants retired to consult. Nothing better than a frontal attack, well sustained and driven home to the hilt, occurred to Hugh John; and, indeed, after all, that was the best thing that could happen on such a day. A yell, a charge, a quick batter of snowballs, and then a rush straight up the bank--Maid Margaret, lithe as a deer-hound, leading, her skirts kilted "as like a boy" as on the spur of the moment she could achieve with a piece of twine. Right on Sweetheart she rushed, who, --as in some sort her senior and legal protector, --of course, could not be very rough with her, nor yet use the methods customary and licensed between embattled brothers. But while the Maid thus held Sweetheart in play, Hugh John developed his stratagem. Leaning over the ramparts he seized Sir Toady by the collar, and then, throwing himself backward down the slope, confident in the thick blanketing of snow underneath, he dragged Sir Toady Lion along with him. "A prisoner--a prisoner!" he cried, both of them, captor and captive alike, being involved in a misty flurry of snow, which boiled up from the snowbank, in the midst of which they fraternally embraced, in that intimate tangle of legs and arms which only boys can achieve without breaking bones. "Back--come back!" rang out the order of the victorious Hugh John. "Sit on him--sit on him hard!" Thus, and not otherwise, was Sir Toady captured and Sweetheart left alone in the shattered intrenchments, which a little before had seemed so impregnable. Now in these snow wars, and, indeed, in all the combattings of the redoubtable four, it was the rule that a captive belonged to the side which took him, from the very moment of his giving in. He must utterly renounce his former allegiance, and fight for his new party as fiercely as formerly he had done against them. This is the only way of decently prolonging strife when the combatants are well matched, but various prejudices stand in the way of applying it to international conflicts. In this fashion was Sweetheart left alone in the fort which she and Sir Toady had constructed with such complete confidence. She did not, however, show the least fear, being a young lady of a singularly composed mind. On the other hand, she set herself to repair the various breaches in the walls, and so far as might be to contract them, so that she would have less space to defend. Then she sat sedately down on the swing and rocked herself to and fro to keep warm, till the storm should break on her devoted head. It broke! With unanimous yell, an army, formidable by being exactly three times her own numbers, rushed across the level space, waving flags and shouting in all the stern and headlong glory of the charge. Snowballs were discharged at the bottom of the glacis, the slope was climbed, and the enemy arrived almost at the very walls, before Sweetheart made a motion. There was something uncanny about it. She did not even dodge the balls. For one thing they were very badly aimed, and her chief safety was in sitting still. They were, you see, aiming at her. It soon became evident, however, that the works must be stormed. Still Sweetheart had made no motion to resist, except that, still seated on the broad board of the swing, she had gradually pushed herself back as far as she could go without losing her foothold on the ground. "She's afraid!--She is retreating! On--on!" No, Hugh John, for once your military genius has been at fault. For at the very moment when the snowy walls were being scaled, Sweetheart suddenly lifted her feet from the ground. The swing, pushed back to the limit of its chains, glided smoothly forward. One solidly shod boot-sole took Hugh John full on the chest. Another "plunked" Sir Toady in a locality which he held yet more tender, especially, as now, before dinner. Both warriors shot backward as if discharged from a petard, disappearing from view down the slope into the big drifts at the foot. Maid Margaret, who had not been touched at all, but who had stood (as it were) in the very middle of affairs, uttered one terrified yell and bolted. "Time!" cried the umpire, appearing in the doorway. The baffled champions entered first. While changing, they had got ready at least twenty complete explanations of their downfall. Sweetheart, coming in a little late, sat down to her sewing, and listened placidly with a faint, sweet, far-away smile which seemed to say that knitting, though an occupation despised by boys, does not wholly obscure the intellect. But she did not say a word. Her brothers somehow found this attitude excessively provoking. * * * * * Thus exercised in mind and body, and presently also fortified by the mid-day meal, the company declared its kind readiness to hear the rest of _The Antiquary_. It was not _Rob Roy_, of course--but a snowy day brought with it certain compensations. So to the crackle of the wood fire and the click and shift of the knitting needles, I began the final tale from _The Antiquary_. THE THIRD TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY" I. THE EARL'S SECRET ON the seashore not far from the mansion-house of Monkbarns stood thelittle fisherman's cottage of Saunders Mucklebackit. Saunders it was whohad rigged the mast, by which Sir Arthur and his daughter were pulled tothe top of the cliffs on the night of the storm. His wife came every dayto the door of Monkbarns to sell fish to Miss Griselda, the Antiquary'ssister, when the pair of them would stand by the hour "skirling andflyting beneath his window like so many seamaws, " as Oldbuck himselfsaid. Besides Steenie Mucklebackit, the eldest son, the same who had assistedEdie Ochiltree to bestow a well-deserved chastisement uponDousterswivel, and a number of merry half-naked urchins, the familyincluded the grandmother, Elspeth Mucklebackit--a woman old, but notinfirm, whose understanding appeared at most times to be asleep, but thestony terror of whose countenance often frightened the bairns more thantheir mother's shrill tongue and ready palm. Elspeth seldom spoke. Indeed, she had done little for many years excepttwirl the distaff in her corner by the fire. Few cared to have much todo with her. She was thought to be "far from canny, " and certainly sheknew more about the great family of Glenallan than it was safe to speakaloud. It chanced on the very night when Edie and Steenie had given a skinfulof sore bones to the German impostor Dousterswivel, that the Countess ofGlenallan, mother of the Earl, was brought to be buried at midnightamong the ruins of St. Ruth. Such had been the custom of the family from ancient times--indeed, eversince the Great Earl fell fighting at the Red Harlaw against Donald ofthe Isles. More recently there had been another reason for such astrange fashion of burial. For the family were Catholics, and there hadlong been laws in Scotland against the holding of popish ceremonialseven on an occasion so solemn. The news of the death of her ancient mistress, coming at last to theears of old Elspeth, took such hold upon her, that she could not resttill she had sent off Edie Ochiltree to the Earl of Glenallan, atGlenallan House, with a ring for a token and the message that Elspeth ofthe Craigburnfoot must see him before she died. She had, Edie was tosay, a secret on her soul, without revealing which she could not hope todie in peace. Accordingly Edie set off for the castle of Glenallan, taking the ringwith him, but with very little hope of finding his way into the Earl'spresence; for Lord Glenallan had been long completely withdrawn from theworld. His mother was Countess in her own right, and so long as shelived, her son had been wholly dependent upon her. In addition to whichsome great sorrow or some great crime, the countryside was not surewhich, pressed sore upon his mind, and being a strict Catholic he passedhis time in penance and prayer. However, by the help of an old soldier, one Francie Macraw, who had beenhis rear-rank man at Fontenoy, Edie Ochiltree was able after many delaysto win a way to the Earl's presence--though the priests who were abouthis person evidently tried to keep everything connected with the outerworld from his knowledge. The Earl, a tall, haggard, gloomy man, whoseage seemed twice what it really was, stood holding the token ring in hishand. At first he took Edie for a father of his own church, and demandedif any further penance were necessary to atone for his sin. But as soonas Edie declared his message, at the very first mention of the name ofElspeth of the Craigburnfoot, the Earl's cheek became even moredeathlike than it had been at Edie's entrance. "Ah, " he said, "that name is indeed written on the darkest page of aterrible history. But what can the woman want with me? Is she dead orliving?" "She is living in the body, " said Edie, "and at times her mind livestoo--but she is an awfu' woman. " "She always was so, " said the Earl, answering almost unconsciously. "Shewas different from other women--likest, perhaps, to her who is nomore--" Edie knew that he meant his own mother, so lately dead. "She wishes to see me, " continued the Earl; "she shall be gratified, though the meeting will be a pleasure to neither of us. " Lord Glenallan gave Edie a handful of guineas, which, contrary to hisusage, Edie had not the courage to refuse. The Earl's tone was tooabsolute. Then, as an intimation that the interview was at an end, Lord Glenallancalled his servant. "See this old man safe, " he said; "let no one ask him any questions. Andyou, my friend, be gone, and forget the road that leads to my house!" "That would indeed be difficult, " said the undaunted Edie, "since yourlordship has given me such good cause to remember it. " Lord Glenallan stared, as if hardly comprehending the old man's boldnessin daring to bandy words with him. Then, without answering, he made himanother signal to depart by a simple movement of his hand, which Edie, awed far beyond his wont, instantly obeyed. II. THE MOTHER'S VENGEANCE The day of Lord Glenallan's visit to the cottage where dwelt old Elspethof the Craigburnfoot seemed at first ill timed. That very day SteenieMucklebackit, the young, the gallant, the handsome eldest son of thehouse had been carried to his grave. He had been drowned while at thefishing, though his father had risked his life in vain to save him. Thefamily had now returned home, and were sitting alone in the firstbenumbing shock of their grief. It was some time before the Earl could make good his entrance into thecottage. It was still longer before he could convince the old womanElspeth that he was really Lord Glenallan, and so obtain an opportunityof speaking with her. But at last they were left alone in the cottage, and the thick veil which had fallen upon Elspeth's spirit seemed for awhile to be drawn aside. She spoke like one of an education far superiorto her position, clearly and calmly, even when recounting the mostterrible events. Her very first words recalled to the Earl the fair young wife, whom hehad married long ago, against his mother's will and without herknowledge. "Name not her name, " he cried, in agony, "all that is dead to me--deadlong ago!" "I MUST!" said the old woman; "it is of her I have to speak. " And in the fewest and simplest words she told him how, when his motherthe Countess had found means to separate husband and wife, while hehimself was fleeing half mad, none knew whither, the young wife hadthrown herself in a fit of frenzy over the cliffs into the sea. It wasto Elspeth's cottage that she and her babe had been brought. "And here, " said the terrible old woman, suddenly thrusting a goldenbodkin into his hand, "is the very dagger which your mother the Countessgave me in order that with it I might slay your infant son. " The Earl looked at the gold bodkin or dagger, as if in fancy he saw theblood of his child still red upon it. "Wretch!" he cried; "and had you the heart?" "I kenna whether I would or not, " said Elspeth. "My mistress commandedand I obeyed. So did I ever. But my obedience was not to be tried thattime. For when I returned, the babe had gone. Your younger brother hadbeen called up to the castle. The child had been left in the care of theCountess's Spanish maid, and when I returned to my cottage, both she andthe babe were gone. The dead body of your young wife alone remained. Andnow, " concluded Elspeth, abruptly, "can you forgive me?" Lord Glenallan was going out of the hut, overwhelmed by the disclosureto which he had been listening. He saw his young wife hounded to deathby his fierce and revengeful mother. He thought of the living child sowonderfully left to him as a legacy from the dead. Yet he turned atElspeth's last words. "May God forgive thee, miserable woman, " he said. "Turn for mercy toHim. He will forgive you as sincerely as I do. " As Lord Glenallan went out into the sunlight, he met face to face withthe Antiquary himself, who was on his way to the cottage to offer whatconsolation or help might be in his power. The Earl and he recognisedone another, but the Antiquary's greeting was hard and cold. As amagistrate he had made, on his own responsibility and against all thepower of the Glenallan family, the legal inquiries into the death of theEarl's young wife. Indeed, during a residence which she had made atKnockwinnock Castle with the Wardour family twenty years ago, and whileshe was still only known as Miss Eveline Neville, the Antiquary hadloved her and had asked her to be his wife. It was, indeed, chiefly onher account that he had never married. Mr. Oldbuck had never ceased tomourn her, and now, believing as he had good reason to do, that the Earlwas the cause of her untimely death, and of the stigma which rested uponher name, it was little wonder that he should wish to have no dealingswith him. But the Earl had a great need in his heart to speak to some one. In amoment the whole world seemed to have changed for him. For the firsttime he knew the truth about a dark deed of cruelty. For the first time, also, he knew that he had a son. He desired above all else the wisecounsel of a true friend. In his heart he had admired the fearlessnessof the Antiquary in the bold inquiry he had made at the time of EvelineNeville's death, and now, refusing to be rebuffed, he followed Mr. Oldbuck as he was turning away, and demanded that he should not deny himhis counsel and assistance at a most terrible and critical moment. It was not in the good Antiquary's nature to refuse such a request fromEarl or beggar, and their interview ended in the Earl's accepting thehospitality of Monkbarns for the night, in order that they might haveplenty of time to discuss the whole subject of Elspeth's communication. On his own part Mr. Oldbuck had some comfort to give Lord Glenallan. Hehad kept the papers which concerned the inquiry carefully, and he wasable to assure his lordship that his brother had carried off the babewith him, probably for the purpose of having it brought up and educatedupon the English estates he had inherited from his father, and on whichhe had ever afterward lived. "My brother, " said Lord Glenallan, "is recently dead, which makes oursearch the more difficult. Furthermore, I am not his heir. He has lefthis property to a stranger, as indeed he had every right to do. But asthe heir is like himself a Protestant, he may be unwilling to aid theinquiry--" "I trust, " interrupted Mr. Oldbuck, with some feeling, "that you willfind a Protestant can be as honest and honourable as a Catholic. " The Earl protested that he had no idea of supposing otherwise. "Only, " he continued, "there was an old steward on the estate who in allprobability is the only man now living who knows the truth. But it isnot expected that any man will willingly disinherit himself. For if Ihave a living son, my father's estates are entailed on him, and thesteward may very likely stand by his master. " "I have a friend in Yorkshire, " said Mr. Oldbuck, "to whom I can applyfor information as to the character of your brother's heir, and also asto the disposition of his steward. That is all we can do at present. Buttake courage, my lord. I believe that your son is alive. " In the morning Lord Glenallan returned to the castle in his carriage, while Mr. Oldbuck, hearing from Hector that he was going down toFairport, in order to see that old Edie Ochiltree had fair play beforethe magistrates, offered to bear him company. Edie Ochiltree--in prison for thwacking the ribs of Dousterswivel, whichhe had done (or at least poor Steenie Mucklebackit for him), and forstealing the German's fifty pounds, which he had not done--willinglyrevealed to Monkbarns what he had refused to breathe to BailieLittlejohn of the Fairport magistracy. After some delay Edie wasaccordingly liberated on the Antiquary's bail, and immediatelyaccompanied his good friend to the cottage of old Elspeth Mucklebackit, where, by the Earl's request, Oldbuck was to take down a statement fromher lips, such as might be produced in a court of law. But no singlesyllable would the old beldame now utter against her ancient mistress. "Ha, " she said, at the first question put to her by the Antiquary; "Ithought it would come to this. It's only sitting silent when theyquestion me. There's nae torture in our days, and if there was, let themrend me! It ill becomes a vassal's mouth to betray the bread which ithas eaten. " Then they told her that her mistress, the Countess Jocelin, was dead, hoping this might bring her to confession. But the news had quite anopposite effect. "Dead!" cried Elspeth, aroused as ever by the sound of her mistress'sname, "then, if she be gone before, the servant must follow. All mustride when she is in the saddle. Bring my scarf and hood! Ye wadna hae megang in the carriage with my lady, and my hair all abroad in thisfashion!" She raised her withered arms, and her hands seemed busied like those ofa woman who puts on a cloak to go a journey. "Call Miss Neville, " she continued; "what do you mean by Lady Geraldin?I said Eveline Neville. There's no Lady Geraldin. But tell her to changeher wet gown and not to look so pale. Bairn--what should she do wi' abairn? She has nane, I trow! Teresa--Teresa--my lady calls us! Bring acandle! The grand staircase is as black before me as a Yule midnight!Coming, my lady, we are coming!" With these words, and as if following in the train of her mistress, oldElspeth, once of the Craigburnfoot, sunk back on the settle, and fromthence sidelong to the floor. III. THE HEIR OF GLENALLAN Meanwhile doom was coming fast upon poor Sir Arthur Wardour. He seemedto be utterly ruined. The treachery of Dousterswivel, the pressing andextortionate demands of a firm called Goldiebirds, who held a claim overhis estate, the time-serving of his own lawyers, at last brought theofficers of the law down upon him. He found himself arrested for debt inhis own house. He was about to be sent to prison, when Edie Ochiltree, who in his day had been deep in many plots, begged that he might beallowed to drive over to Tannanburgh, and promised that he wouldcertainly bring back some good news from the post-office there. It was all that Oldbuck, with his best tact and wisdom, could do to keepHector MacIntyre from assaulting the officers of the law during theabsence of Edie. Two long hours they waited. The carriage had alreadybeen ordered round to the door to convey Sir Arthur to prison. MissWardour was in agony, her father desperate with shame and grief, whenEdie arrived triumphantly grasping a packet. He delivered it forthwithto the Antiquary. For Sir Arthur, knowing his own weakness, had puthimself unreservedly into the hands of his abler friend. The packet, being opened, was found to contain a writ stopping the proceedings, aletter of apology from the lawyers who had been most troublesome, and anote from Captain Wardour, Sir Arthur's son, enclosing a thousand poundsfor his father's immediate needs. It also declared that ere long hehimself would come to the castle along with a distinguished officer, Major Neville, who had been appointed to report to the War Officeconcerning the state of the defences of the country. "Thus, " said the Antiquary, summing up the situation, "was the lastsiege of Knockwinnock House laid by Saunders Sweepclean, the bailiff, and raised by Edie Ochiltree, the King's Blue-Gown!" There was, at the time when the story of the Antiquary and his doingsdraws to a close, a daily expectation of a French invasion. Beacons hadbeen prepared on every hill and headland, and men were set to watch. Oneof these beacons had been intrusted to old Caxon the hairdresser, andone night he saw, directly in the line of the hill to the south which hewas to watch, a flame start suddenly up. It was undoubtedly the tokenagreed upon to warn the country of the landing of the French. He lighted his beacon accordingly. It threw up to the sky a longwavering train of light, startling the sea-fowl from their nests, andreddening the sea beneath the cliffs. Caxon's brother warders, equallyzealous, caught and repeated the signal. The district was soon awake andalive with the tidings of invasion. [Illustration: "ONE night he saw, directly in the line of the hill tothe south which he was to watch, a flame start suddenly up. It wasundoubtedly the token agreed upon to warn the country of the landing ofthe French. "He lighted his beacon accordingly. "] From far and near the Lowland burghers, the country lairds, the Highlandchiefs and clans responded to the summons. They had been drilling forlong, and now in the dead of the night they marched with speed uponFairport, eager to defend that point of probable attack. Last of all the Earl of Glenallan came in with a splendidly mountedsquadron of horse, raised among his Lowland tenants, and five hundredHighland clansmen with their pipes playing stormily in the van. Presently also Captain Wardour arrived in a carriage drawn by fourhorses, bringing with him Major Neville, the distinguished officerappointed to the command of the district. The magistrates assembled atthe door of their town-house to receive him. The volunteers, theyeomanry, the Glenallan clansmen--all were there awaiting the great man. What was the astonishment of the people of Fairport, and especially ofthe Antiquary, to see descend from the open door of the carriage, --whobut the quiet Mr. Lovel. He had brought with him the news that the alarm of invasion was false. The beacon which Caxon had seen was only the burning of the miningmachinery in Glen Withershins which had been ordered by Oldbuck and SirArthur to make a final end of Dousterswivel's plots and deceits. But there was yet further and more interesting private news. The proofsthat Lovel was indeed the son of the Earl of Glenallan were found to beoverwhelming. His heirship to the title had been fully made out. Thechaplain who had performed his father's wedding had returned fromabroad, exiled by the French Revolution. The witnesses also had beenfound. Most decisive of all, among the papers of the Earl's latebrother, there was discovered a duly authenticated account of hiscarrying off the child, and of how he had had him educated and pushed onin the army. So that very night the Antiquary enjoyed in some degree the crowningpleasure of his whole life, in bringing together father and son for thefirst time. That is, if the marriage which took place soon after betweenhis young friend Lovel (or Lord William Geraldin) and Miss IsabellaWardour of Knockwinnock Castle did not turn out to be a yet greaterpleasure. Old Edie still travels from farm to farm, but mostly nowconfines himself to the short round between Monkbarns and Knockwinnock. It is reported, however, that he means soon to settle with old Caxon, who, since the marriage of his daughter to Lieutenant Taffril, has beengiven a cottage near the three wigs which he still keeps in order in theparish, --the minister's, Sir Arthur's, and best of all, that of our goodand well-beloved Antiquary. THE END OF THE LAST TALE FROM "THE ANTIQUARY. " * * * * * "Now, " said Sweetheart, nodding particular approval, "that is the way a story ought to end up--everything going on from chapter to chapter, with no roundabouts, and everything told about everybody right to the very end!" "Hum, " said Hugh John, with a curl of his nose; "well, that's done with! But it was good about the Storm and the Duel! The rest was--" "Hush, " said Sweetheart, "remember, it was written by Sir Walter. " "Sir, " said I to Hugh John, heavily parental, "_The Antiquary_ may not now be much to your taste, but the day will come when you may probably prefer it to all the rest put together. " At these words the young man assumed the expression common to boys who are bound to receive the wholesome advice of their elders, yet who do so with silent but respectful doubt, if not with actual disbelief. "Well, " he said, after a long pause, "anyway, the Duel _was_ good. And I'd jolly well like to find a treasure in Misticot's grave. Can we have another snow fight?" THE END OF THE FIRST SERIES OF RED CAP TALES FROM THE TREASURE-CHEST OFTHE WIZARD OF THE NORTH. FOOTNOTES: [1] These were Scottish children to whom the stories were retold, andthey understood the Scottish tongue. So the dialect parts wereoriginally told in that speech. Now, however, in pity for children whohave the misfortune to inherit only English, I have translated all thehard words and phrases as best I could. But the old is infinitelybetter, and my only hope and aim is, that the retelling of these storiesby the living voice may send every reader, every listener, to the Masterof Romance himself. If I succeed in this, my tale-telling shall not havebeen in vain. [2] _i. E. _ scarecrow. * * * * * Transcriber's Notes Obvious punctuation errors repaired. One reference each of "lifeblood" and "life-blood" were retained. Thiswas also done with "sea-shore" and "seashore". Page 151, "campanion" changed to "companion" (sole companion a) Page 180, "summons" changed to "summon" (would summon all) Page 324, "than" changed to "then" (and then began) Page 374, "hims" changed to "his" (mounted on his)