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- float: left; - margin-right: 1em } - -.align-right { clear: right; - float: right; - margin-left: 1em } - -.align-center { margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto } - -div.shrinkwrap { display: table; } - -/* SECTIONS */ - -body { margin: 5% 10% 5% 10% } - -/* compact list items containing just one p */ -li p.pfirst { margin-top: 0; margin-bottom: 0 } - -.first { margin-top: 0 !important; - text-indent: 0 !important } -.last { margin-bottom: 0 !important } - -span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 1 } -img.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.5em 0 0; max-width: 25% } -span.dropspan { font-variant: small-caps } - -.no-page-break { page-break-before: avoid !important } - -/* PAGINATION */ - -.pageno { position: absolute; right: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.pageno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.lineno { position: absolute; left: 95%; font: medium sans-serif; text-indent: 0 } -.lineno:after { color: gray; content: '[' attr(title) ']' } -.toc-pageref { float: right } - -@media screen { - .coverpage, .frontispiece, .titlepage, .verso, .dedication, .plainpage - { margin: 10% 0; } - - div.clearpage, div.cleardoublepage - { margin: 10% 0; border: none; border-top: 1px solid gray; } - - .vfill { margin: 5% 10% } -} - -@media print { - div.clearpage { page-break-before: always; padding-top: 10% } - div.cleardoublepage { page-break-before: right; padding-top: 10% } - - .vfill { margin-top: 20% } - h2.title { margin-top: 20% } -} - -/* DIV */ -pre { font-family: monospace; font-size: 0.9em; white-space: pre-wrap } -</style> -<title>THE GREY MAN</title> -<link rel="coverpage" href="images/img-cover.jpg" /> -<meta name="DC.Creator" content="S. R. Crockett" /> -<meta name="PG.Title" content="The Grey Man" /> -<meta name="PG.Id" content="49301" /> -<meta name="DC.Language" content="en" /> -<meta name="PG.Rights" content="Public Domain" /> -<meta name="DC.Created" content="1910" /> -<meta name="PG.Released" content="2015-06-27" /> -<meta name="PG.Producer" content="Al Haines" /> -<meta name="DC.Title" content="The Grey Man" /> - -<link href="http://purl.org/dc/terms/" rel="schema.DCTERMS" /> -<link href="http://id.loc.gov/vocabulary/relators/" rel="schema.MARCREL" /> -<meta content="The Grey Man" name="DCTERMS.title" /> -<meta content="/home/ajhaines/greyman/greyman.rst" name="DCTERMS.source" /> -<meta content="en" name="DCTERMS.language" scheme="DCTERMS.RFC4646" /> -<meta content="2015-06-27T22:50:56.296575+00:00" name="DCTERMS.modified" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta content="Project Gutenberg" name="DCTERMS.publisher" /> -<meta content="Public Domain in the USA." name="DCTERMS.rights" /> -<link href="http://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/49301" rel="DCTERMS.isFormatOf" /> -<meta content="S. R. Crockett" name="DCTERMS.creator" /> -<meta content="2015-06-27" name="DCTERMS.created" scheme="DCTERMS.W3CDTF" /> -<meta content="width=device-width" name="viewport" /> -<meta content="Ebookmaker 0.4.0a5 by Marcello Perathoner <webmaster@gutenberg.org>" name="generator" /> -</head> -<body> -<div class="document" id="the-grey-man"> -<h1 class="center document-title level-1 pfirst title"><span class="x-large">THE GREY MAN</span></h1> - -<!-- this is the default PG-RST stylesheet --> -<!-- figure and image styles for non-image formats --> -<!-- default transition --> -<!-- default attribution --> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="clearpage"> -</div> -<!-- -*- encoding: utf-8 -*- --> -<div class="container language-en pgheader" id="pg-header" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the </span><a class="reference internal" href="#project-gutenberg-license">Project Gutenberg License</a><span> included with -this ebook or online at </span><a class="reference external" href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license</a><span>. If you -are not located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws -of the country where you are located before using this ebook.</span></p> -<p class="noindent pnext"></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<div class="container" id="pg-machine-header"> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span>Title: The Grey Man -<br /> -<br />Author: S. R. Crockett -<br /> -<br />Release Date: June 27, 2015 [EBook #49301] -<br /> -<br />Language: English -<br /> -<br />Character set encoding: UTF-8</span></p> -</div> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-start-line"><span>*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK </span><span>THE GREY MAN</span><span> ***</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst" id="pg-produced-by"><span>Produced by Al Haines.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span></span></p> -</div> -<div class="container titlepage"> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold xx-large">THE GREY MAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">BY</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold large">S. R. Crockett</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">POPULAR EDITION</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">LONDON -<br />T. FISHER UNWIN -<br />ADELPHI TERRACE -<br />MCMX</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<div class="container dedication"> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="italics medium">To -<br />W. R. NICOLL -<br />are affectionately inscribed -<br />these Chronicles of a Stormy Time— -<br />in memory of -<br />unforgotten Days of Peace and Quietness -<br />spent with him and his.</em></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="medium">[</span><em class="italics medium">All rights reserved</em><span class="medium">]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CONTENTS</span></p> -<ol class="upperroman simple"> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-oath-of-swords">The Oath of Swords</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-lass-of-the-white-tower">The Lass of the White Tower</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-second-taunting-of-spurheel">The Second Taunting of Spurheel</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-inn-on-the-red-moss">The Inn on the Red Moss</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-throwing-of-the-bloody-dagger">The Throwing of the Bloody Dagger</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-crown-of-the-causeway">The Crown of the Causeway</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#my-lady-s-favours">My Lady's Favours</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-laird-of-auchendrayne">The Laird of Auchendrayne</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#cartel-of-contumely">Cartel of Contumely</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#sir-thomas-of-the-top-knot">Sir Thomas of the Top-Knot</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#sword-and-spit">Sword and Spit</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-flitting-of-the-sow">The Flitting of the Sow</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-tryst-at-midnight">The Tryst at Midnight</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-adventure-of-the-garden">The Adventure of the Garden</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-midnight-leaguer">A Midnight Leaguer</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#greybeards-and-dimple-chins">Greybeards and Dimple Chins</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-corbies-at-the-eagle-s-nest">The Corbies at the Eagle's Nest</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#bairns-play">Bairns' Play</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#fighting-the-beasts">Fighting the Beasts</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-secret-of-the-caird">The Secret of the Caird</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#mine-ancient-sweetheart">Mine Ancient Sweetheart</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-marriage-made-in-hell">A Marriage made in Hell</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-galloway-raid">A Galloway Raid</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-slaughter-in-the-snow">The Slaughter in the Snow</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#marjorie-bids-her-love-good-night">Marjorie bids her Love Good-night</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#days-of-quiet">Days of Quiet</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#on-the-heartsome-heather">On the Heartsome Heather</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#warm-backs-make-braw-bairns">Warm Backs make Braw Bairns</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-murder-among-the-sandhills">The Murder among the Sandhills</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#i-seek-for-vengeance">I seek for Vengeance</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-blue-blanket">The Blue Blanket</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#greek-meets-greek">Greek meets Greek</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-devil-is-a-gentleman">The Devil is a Gentleman</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#in-the-enemy-s-country">In the Enemy's Country</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-ogre-s-castle">The Ogre's Castle</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-defence-of-castle-ailsa">The Defence of Castle Ailsa</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-voice-out-of-the-night">The Voice out of the Night</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#a-rescue-from-the-sea">A Rescue from the Sea</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-cleft-in-the-rock">The Cleft in the Rock</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-cave-of-death">The Cave of Death</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-were-wolf-of-benerard">The Were-Wolf of Benerard</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#ane-lochaber-aix-gied-him-his-paiks">Ane Lochaber Aix gied Him his Paiks</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-moot-hill-of-girvan">The Moot Hill of Girvan</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-murder-upon-the-beach">The Murder upon the Beach</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-man-in-the-wide-breeches">The Man in the Wide Breeches</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-judgment-of-god">The Judgment of God</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-place-of-the-legion-of-devils">The Place of the Legion of Devils</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-finding-of-the-treasure-of-kelwood">The Finding of the Treasure of Kelwood</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-great-day-of-trial">The Great Day of Trial</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#the-last-of-the-grey-man">The Last of the Grey Man</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#marjorie-s-good-night">Marjorie's Good-night</a></p> -</li> -<li><p class="first noindent pfirst"><a class="reference internal" href="#home-coming">Home-coming</a></p> -</li> -</ol> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-oath-of-swords"><span class="bold x-large">THE GREY MAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE OATH OF SWORDS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Well do I mind the first time that ever I was in the -heartsome town of Ballantrae. My father seldom went thither, -because it was a hold of the Bargany folk, and it argued -therefore sounder sense to give it the go-by. But it came -to pass upon a time that it was necessary for my father to -adventure from Kirrieoch on the border of Galloway, where -we dwelt high on the moors, to the seaside of Ayr.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My father's sister had married a man named Hew Grier, -an indweller in Maybole, who for gear's sake had settled -down to his trade of tanner in Ballantrae. It was to his -burying that we went. We had seen him snugly happed -up, and the burial supper was over. We were already in a -mind to set about returning, when we heard the sound of a -great rushing of people hither and thither. I went aloft and -looked through a gable window upon the street. Arms -were hastily being brought from beneath the thatch, to which -the laws of the King had committed them under the late -ordinance anent weapons of war. Leathern jackets were -being donned, and many folk cried 'Bargany!' in the streets -without knowing why.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My Aunt Grisel went out to ask what the stir might be, -and came in again with her face as white as a clout.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is the Cassillis folk that are besieging the Tower of -Ardstinchar, and they have come near to the taking of it, -they say. Oh, what will the folk of Ballantrae do to you, -John, if they ken that you are here? They will hang you -for a spy, and that without question.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That,' said my father, 'is surely impossible. The -Ballantrae folk never had any great haul of sense ever since -Stinchar water ran; but yet they will hardly believe that -Hew Grier, decent man—him that was your marrow and -lies now in his resting grave, poor body—took on himself to -die, just that I might come to Ballantrae to spy out the land!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But my aunt, being easily flustered, would not hearken -to him, thinking that all terrible things were possible, and -so hid the two of us in the barn-loft till it should be the hour -of the gloaming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then so soon as the darkening came, putting a flask of -milk into my pocket and giving a noble satchel of cakes to -my father, she almost pushed us out of her back door. To -this day I remember how the unsteady glare of a red burning -filled all the street. And we could see burghers' wives -standing at their doors, all looking intently in the direction -of the Castle of Ardstinchar upon its lofty rock. Others -set their heads out of the little round 'jaw-holes' that -opened in each gable wall, and gossiped shrilly with their -neighbours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My father and I went cannily down by the riverside, and -as soon as we turned Hew-the-Friar's corner, we saw all the -noble tower of Ardstinchar flaming to the skies—every -window belching fire, and the sparks fleeing upward as before -a mighty wind, though it was a stirless night with a moon -and stars floating serenely above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Down by the waterside and straight before us we saw a -post of men, and we heard them clank their war-gear as -they marched from side to side and looked ever up at the -castle on its steep, spitting like a furnace, flaming like a torch. -So at sight of them my father turned us about sharply -enough, because, in spite of what he had said to my Aunt -Grisel, he had much reason to fear for his neck. For if, on -the night of a Cassillis raid, one of the hated faction should -be found in the town of Ballantrae, little doubt there was -but that a long tow and a short shrift would be his fate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We climbed the breast of the brae up from the waterside, -intending to make a detour behind the castle. My father -said that there would be an easy crossing at Heronford, where -he knew a decent man that was of his own party. Thence -we could make up the glen of the Tigg Water, which in -the evil state of the country was as good and quiet a way -back to Minnochside as one might hope to find.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It seemed a most pitiful sight to me, that was but a young -lad (and had never seen a fire bigger than a screed of -muirburn screeving across the hills with a following wind at its -tail), to watch the noble house with all its wealth of -plenishing and gear being burned up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said as much to my father, who swung along with his -head bent to the hill slope, dragging my arm oftentimes -almost from the socket, in his haste to get us out of such -unwholesome company as the angry folk of Ballantrae.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is an enemy's house!' he replied very hastily. 'Come -thy ways, lad!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But what harm have the Bargany folk done to us?' I -asked. For this thing seemed strange to me—that Kennedy -should strive with Kennedy, burn castle, kill man, harry -mow and manger, drive cattle—and I never be able to make -out what it was all for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hold your breath, Launcelot Kennedy!' said my -father, testy with shortness of wind and going uphill, 'or -right speedily you will find out for what! Is it not enough -that you are born to love Cassillis and to hate Bargany?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are the folk of Cassillis, then, so much better than the -folk of Bargany?' I asked, taking what I well knew to be -the chances of a civil answer, or of a ring on the side of the -head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not the civil answer that I got.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, it was an ill season for query and question, -or for the answering of them. In time we got to the angle -of the castle, and there we were somewhat sheltered from -the fierce heat and from the glare of light also. From -the eminence we had gained, we could look away along -the shore side. My father pointed with his finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Boy, do you see yon?' he whispered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked long and eagerly with my unaccustomed eyes, -before I could see in the pale moonlight a dark train of -horsemen that rode steadily northward. Their line wimpled like -a serpent, being pricked out to our sight with little reeling -twinkles of fire, which I took to be the moon shining on -their armour and the points of their spears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See,' said my father, 'yonder goes our good Earl -home with the spoil. Would that I were by his side! -Why do I live so far among the hills, and out of the call -of my chief when he casts his war pennon to the winds?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We looked all round the castle, and seeing no one, we made -shift to get about it and darn ourselves among the heather -of the further hillside. But even as we passed the angle -and reached a broken part of the wall, there came a trampling -of iron-shod hoofs. And lo! a troop of horsemen rode up -to the main castle gate, that which looks to the north-west. -It was all we could do to clamber out of sight over the broken -wall, my father lifting me in his arms. There we lay flat -and silent behind a pile of stones, just where the breach had -been made—over which we could look into the courtyard -and see the splotched causeway and the bodies of the dead -lying here and there athwart it in the ruddy light of burning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as the foremost horseman came to the gate, which -the riders of Cassillis had left wide open, the roof of red -tile fell in with an awesome crash. The flames again -sprang high and the sparks soared. Soon all the courtyard -was aglow with the red, unsteady leme which the skies -gave back, while the moon and stars paled and went out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hist!' whispered my father, 'this is young Bargany -himself who comes first.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked eagerly from behind a stone and saw the noblest -figure of a young man that ever I saw or shall see, riding on -a black horse, sitting framed in the dark of the gateway, the -flames making a crimson flicker about him. After a -moment's pause he rode within the deserted close, and there -sat his horse, looking up sternly and silently at the leaping -flames and hearkening as it were to the crackling of the -timbers as they burned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then another and yet another horseman came riding -within, some of whom my father knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See you, Launce, and remember,' he whispered; 'that -loon there is Thomas Kennedy of Drummurchie, Bargany's -brother. Observe his fangs of the wolf. He of all the -crew is the wickedest and the worst.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked forth and saw a gaunt, dark youth, with a -short upper lip drawn up from teeth that shone white in -the leaping flame which harvested the goodly gear of the -house of Ardstinchar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There also is Blairquhan the Simpleton, Cloncaird of -the Black Heart, and Benane the Laird's brother—a very -debauched man—and there, I declare, is my Lord Ochiltree. -Upon soul and conscience, I wonder what he does here -thus riding with the Barganies?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as the fire died down a little, some of the party -began to search about among the defences and outhouses, -and a few even entered into the inner part of the tower. -In twos and threes they came forth, some bringing a -wounded man, some a dead man, till, on the cool, grey -stones of the court, there rested five that lay motionless on -their backs, and two that moaned a while and then were still. -The more lightly wounded were cared for in a chamber -within the gate. Then we could see all the gentlemen of -the Bargany side dismounted from their horses and -standing about those five that were killed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Alas for young Girvanmains!' I heard one cry, for we -were very near. 'What shall we say to his father? And -here also is Walter Pollock, the cunning scrivener—and -James Dalrymple, that was a kindly little man and never -harmed anyone—the Lord do so to me, and more also, if I -write not this killing in blood upon the walls of Cassillis!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The crowd thinned a little, and I saw it was the Laird -himself that spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then this same young Bargany, who was taller by a -head than any there, called for room. So they made a ring, -with the dead men in the midst, and Bargany standing a -little before. He bent him over the body of Walter -Pollock, the young clerk, and drew forth a book from his -breast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Listen!' he cried, 'all you that love Bargany, and -who now behold this deed of dule and cruelty. Here lie -our dead. Here is the Book of God that I have taken from -one of the servants of peace, cruelly bereft of life by our -enemies!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I warrant he drew a good sword when it came to the -fighting, clerk though he might be,' whispered my father, -'I know the Pollock breed!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bargany looked at the book in his grasp and again at -the hand which had held it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This falls out well,' he said. 'Here in the presence of -our dead, upon the Bible that is wet with the blood of the -unjustly slain, let us band ourselves together and take oath -to be avenged upon the cruel house—the house of -over-trampling pride—the house that has ever wrought us woe! -Will ye swear?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked round a circle of faces that shone fierce and -dark in the lowe of the furnace beyond. As he did so he -unsheathed his sword, and pointed with it to the topmost -pinnacles of Ardstinchar. In a moment there was a ring -of steel all about him, for, quick as his own, every man's -hand went out to his scabbard, and in every man's grip -there gleamed a bare blade. And the sight thrilled me to -see it, ay, more than all the religion I had ever been taught, -for I was but a boy. And even though religion be learned -in youth, the strength and the use of it comes not till after.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus Bargany stood with the brand in his right hand -and the Bible in his left, to take, as was ancient custom in -our countryside, the solemn oath of vengeance and eternal -enmity. And thus he spake,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By this Holy Book and by the wet blood upon it, I, -Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany, swear never to satisfy my -just feud against the bloody house of Cassillis, till of all -their defenced towers there stands not one stone in its -place, remains alive not one scion of its cruel race. I who -stand here, in the presence of these dead men of my folk, -charge the Kennedies of the North with the blood of my -kin, the spoiling of my vassals, and the heart-breaking of -my father. In the name of God I swear! If I stay my -hand and make not an end, the God of Battles do so to -me, and more also!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gilbert Kennedy kissed the book which he gripped in his -left hand, and then with sudden gesture of hatred he flung -down the sword which he had held aloft in his right. It -fell with a ringing dirl of iron upon the stones of the -pavement beside the slain men, and the sound of its fall -made the flesh creep on my bones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Laird's wicked brother, Thomas, called the -Wolf of Drummurchie, came forward, hatred fairly sparkling -in his eyes, and his teeth set in a girn of devil's -anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I swear,' he cried, 'to harry John of Cassillis, the -enemy that has wrought us this woe, with fire and sword—to -cut off him and his with dagger and spear, to light -the thack and to lift the cattle. I will be an outlaw, a -prey for the hunters for their sake. For Cassillis it was -who first slandered me to the King, chased me from my -home, and made me no better than a robber man upon -the mountains.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in turn he kissed the Book, and his sword rang -grimly on the pavement beside his brother's. So one by -one the men of Bargany took the solemn band of eternal -and bloody feud. Presently an old man stood forth. He -held a spear in his hand, being, as my father whispered, -but a tenant vassal and keeping to the ancient Scottish -yeoman's weapon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By the blood of my son that lies here before me, by -this spear which he held in his dying hand, I, that am but -the poor goodman of Girvanmains, before death takes me -to where all vengeance is Another's, I swear the vengeance -of blood!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he cast the spear beside the swords of the gentlemen. -Then issuing forth from the chamber over the gate, -and leaning heavily upon the arm of a young page boy, -there came creeping the strangest shape of a man—his -countenance thrawed and drawn, his shrunk shanks twisted, -his feet wambling one over another like those of a mummer's -bear. Bowed double the man was, and he walked with a -staff that tapped and rattled tremblingly on the pavement -as he came. The men of war turned at the sound, for -there had been stark silence among them after old -Girvanmains had let his spear fall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Like one risen from the dead, the old man looked up at -the tower which was now beginning to show black against -the dulling red glow of the dying fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou tower of Ardstinchar,' he cried, lifting up a -voice like the wind whistling through scrannel pipes, 'they -have burned you that erstwhile burned me. Curse me -Cassillis and the Lords of it! Curse me all that cleave to -it, for their tender mercies are cruel. I, Allan Stewart, -sometime Abbot of Crossraguel, lay my curse bitterly upon -them for the cruel burning they gave me before their fire in -the Black Vault of Dunure. But bless me the House of -Bargany, that rescued me from torture and took me to -their strong tower, wherein I have to this day found in peace -a quiet abiding chamber.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mark well, boy,' whispered my father; 'remember this -to tell it in after days to your children's children. Your -eyes have seen the Abbot of Crossraguel whom the King of -Carrick, the father of our Earl John, roasted quick in the -vault of Dunure—a deed which has wrought mickle woe, -and will yet work more.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And even as my father spoke I saw the old cripple hirple -away, the young Laird himself helping him with the kindliest -courtesy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, last of all that spake, came a voice from one who -had remained in the gloomy archway of the gate, by the -entering in of the courtyard. He that broke the silence -was a tall man who sat on a grey horse, and was clad from -head to foot in a cloak of grey, having his face shaded -with a high-crowned, broad-brimmed hat of the ancient -fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give me the Book and I also will swear an oath!' he -said, in a voice which made all turn towards him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who may that man be? I ken him not,' said my -father, for he had named all the others as they came within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So one gave the man the blood-stained Bible, and he -held it in his hand a moment. He was silent a space before -he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'By this Christian Book and among this Christian -people,' he cried, 'I swear to root out and slay utterly all -the house of Cassillis and Culzean, pursuing them, man, -woman and child, with fire and sword till they die the -death of pain and scorn, or I who swear die in the -accomplishing of it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The unknown paused at the end of this terrible oath, -and gazed again at the Book. The dying flame within the -castle flared up for a chance moment as another rafter -caught fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Fauch!' said he of the grey cloak, looking at the -Bible in his hand, 'there is blood upon thee. Go thou into -the burning as the seal of our oaths. A bloody Bible is no -Christian book!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that he threw the Bible into the red embers -that glowed sullenly within the tower.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There broke a cry of horror from all that saw. For -though in this dark land of Carrick deeds of blood were -done every day, this Bible-burning was accounted rank -blasphemy and ungodly sacrilege. But I was not prepared -for its effect upon my father. He trembled in all his limbs, -and I felt the stones shake upon which he now leaned breast -high, careless who should see him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is fair devil's work,' he muttered. 'The fires of -Sodom, the brimstone of Gomorrah shall light upon us all -for this deed!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would have said more, but I never heard him finish -his words. Sudden as a springing deer, he tore from the -covert of the wall by my side and bounded across the court, -threading the surprised group and overleaping the swords -and the bodies of the slain men. He disappeared in a -moment through the door into the tower, within which -the flames still glowed red, and from which every instant -the crash of falling timber and the leaping flames answered -each other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ere my father sprang back, his figure stood plain and dark -against the fire within, like that of a smith at his forge seen in -the bygoing upon a snowy night. He held the unburned -Bible clasped to his breast, but his left hand hung straight -down by his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment after he had sprung from a window and fallen -upon his face on the pavement with the Bible beneath him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A dozen men ran towards him and seized him—Thomas -of Drummurchie the first among them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A traitor! A spy!' he cried, lifting a sword from the -pile with clear purpose to kill. 'To the death with him! -It is John Kennedy of Kirrieoch—I ken him well, a rank -Cassillis thief!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he would have slain my father forthwith, but that -I ran among his legs and gripped him so close to me that he -fell clattering on the pavement among the swords. Then I -went and took my father's hand, standing by his side and -crying out the while,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye shallna, ye shallna kill my father. He never did ye -harm a' the days o' his life!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who are you, and what do you here?' asked young -Bargany in a voice of command, when they had set my -father on his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am John Kennedy of Kirrieoch on Minnochside, -and I came to Ballantrae to bury the corpse of my sister's -man, Hew Grier, merchant and indweller there, that was -this day laid in the earth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, right quietly and calmly, my father spoke among -them all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But what seek you in my burned Castle of Ardstinchar -and alone with these dead men?' asked the young Bargany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With a quietness that came of the hills my father told -the chieftain his plain tale, and his words were not words -that any man could gainsay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Bargany answered him without consulting the -others, as none but a great chief does whose lightest word is -life or death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye are here within my danger, and had I been even as your -folk of Cassillis, ye should have died the death; but because -ye stopped devil's work and, it may be, kept away a curse -from us for the burning of the Holy Book, ye shall not die -in my house. Take your life and your son's life, as a gift -from Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My father bowed his head and thanked his house's enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bring a horse,' cried the Laird, and immediately they -set my father on a beast, and me in the saddle before him. -'Put the Bible for a keepsake in your winnock sole, turn -out the steed on Minnochside, and come no more to -Ballantrae in time of feud, lest a worse thing befall -you!' So said he, and waved us away, as I thought grandly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Some of the men that had sworn enmity murmured -behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Silence!' he cried, 'am not I Lord of Bargany? Shall -I not do as I will? Take your life, Kirrieoch. And -whenever a Bargany rides by your door, ye shall give him bite -and sup for the favour that was this night shown you in the -courtyard of Ardstinchar.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye shall get that, Bargany, and welcome, whether ye -let me gang or no!' said my father. And pressing the -Book to his bosom, and gathering up the reins in his -unwounded hand, we rode unquestioned through the arch -of the wall into the silence of the night. And the hill -winds and the stillnesses without were like God's blessing -about us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But from a knoll on the left of the entrance the man of -the grey habit, he who had thrown the Bible, sat silent upon -his horse and watched. And as we looked back, he still sat -and watched. Him my father took to have been the devil, -as he said to me many times that night ere we got to -Minnochside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Also ere we left the clattering pavement behind, looking -out from the postern door we saw the thrawn visage of him -who was Allan Stewart, the tortured residue of the man -who had once been Abbot of Crossraguel, and in stature like -a square-shouldered tower.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this is the way my father brought home the burnt -Bible to the house of Kirrieoch. There it bides to this day, -blackened as to its bindings and charred at the edges, but -safe in the wall press at my father's bed-head, a famous book -in all the land, even as far as Glencaird and Dranie Manors -upon the Waters of Trool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it brought good fortune with it—a fortune which, -God be thanked, still remains and grows. And as for my -father, he never lifted sword nor spear against the house of -Bargany from that day to this, because of the usage which -Gilbert Kennedy gave him that night at the burning of -Ardstinchar.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, for all that, he exercised me tightly in the -use of every weapon of war, from the skill of the bow -to the shooting of the hackbutt. For it was his constant -intent to make me an esquire in the service of Sir Thomas -Kennedy of Culzean,[#] reputed the wisest man and the best -soldier in all the parts of Carrick and Ayr. As, indeed, I -have found him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Culzean is pronounced Culayne, as though to rhyme with 'domain.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And this saving of the burning Bible was, as I guess, the -beginning of my respect for religion—which, alas! I fear -this chronicle will show to have been both a late-garnered -and a thin-sown crop.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-lass-of-the-white-tower"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER II</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE LASS OF THE WHITE TOWER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now, as the manner is, I must make haste to tell -something of myself and have by with it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My name is Launcelot Kennedy, and I alone am the -teller of this tale. In a country where all are Kennedies, -friends and foes alike, this name of mine is no great -head-mark. So 'Launcelot of the Spurs' I am called, or sometimes, -by those who would taunt me, 'Launcelot Spurheel.' But for -all that I come of a decent muirland house, the Kennedies -of Kirrieoch, who were ever lovers of the Cassillis blue and -gold—which are the royal colours of France, in memory -of the ancient alliance—and ever haters of the red and -white of Bargany, which we hold no better than butchers' -colours, bloody and desolate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The story, or at least my own part in it, properly begins -upon the night of the fair at Maybole—whither to my -shame I had gone without troubling my master, Sir Thomas -Kennedy of Culzean, with the slight matter of asking his -permission. Indeed, none so much as knew that I had been to -the town of Maybole save Helen Kennedy alone; and she, -as I well knew (although I called her Light-head Clattertongue), -would not in any wise tell tales upon me. There -at the fair I had spent all my silver, buying of trittle-trattles -at the lucky-booths and about the market-stalls. But upon -my return I meant to divide fairly with Helen Kennedy, -though she was fully two years younger than I—indeed, -only sixteen years of her age, though I grant long of the -leg and a good runner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, being advised of my excellent intentions, you shall -judge if I was not justified of all that I did to be revenged -on the girl afterwards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the early morning of a March day when I came to -the foot of the Castle of Culzean. I went with quiet steps -along the shore by the little path that leads to the coves -beneath. I carried the things that I had bought in a -napkin, all tied safely together. Now, the towers of Culzean -are builded upon a cliff, steep and perilous, overlooking the -sea. And I, being but a squire of eighteen (though for my -age strong and bold, and not to be beaten by anything or -feared by any man), was lodged high up in the White Tower, -which rises from the extremest point of the rock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, as I say, I had not made mention of the little -matter of my going abroad to Sir Thomas, both because it -was unnecessary to trouble him with so small a thing, and also -on account of the strictness of his opinions. It was, -therefore, the more requisite that I should regain my chamber -without putting lazy Gilbert in the watch-house at the -gate to the trouble of letting fall the drawbridge for me. -I did not, indeed, desire to disturb or disarrange him, for -he would surely tell his master, being well called Gabby -Gib-cat, because he came of a race that never in their lives -has been able to hold a secret for a single day in the belly of -them—at least, not if it meant money, ale, or the goodwill -of their lord.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it happened that before I went to Maybole I dropped -a ladder of rope from the stanchions of my window, -extremely strong and convenient, which came down to a -ledge someway up among the rocks, at a place which I could -easily reach by climbing. Thither I made my way while, -as I tell you, the night was just beginning to dusk toward -the dawning. I had all my buyings in my arms, tied up -well and that tightly in the napkin, just as I had carried them -from the lucky-booths of Maybole. I tied the outer knot -of my bundle firmly to the last rung of the ladder, praying -within me that Sir Thomas might be fast asleep. For I had -to pass within three feet of his window, and, being an old -man, he was somewhat wakerife in the mornings, easily -started, and given to staring out of his lattice without -method or sense, in a manner which had often filled me -with pain and foreboding for his reason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But by the blessing of God, and because he was -somewhat tired with walking in the fields with his baron-officer -the night before, it happened that Sir Thomas was sound -asleep, so that I was nothing troubled with him. But -immediately beneath me, in the White Tower, were the -rooms of his two daughters, Marjorie and Helen Kennedy; -and of these Helen's room was to the front, so that my -rope ladder passed immediately in front of her window, -while the chamber of Marjorie was to the back, and, in -this instance, concerned me not at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So as I scrambled up the swinging ladder (and, indeed, -there are not many that would venture as much on a cold -March morning) I passed Helen Kennedy's window. As -I went by, the devil (as I take it) prompted me to scratch -with my toe upon the leaden frame of her lattice, for -the lass was mortally afraid of ghosts. So I pictured to -myself that, hearing the noise at the window, she would -take it for the scraping of an evil spirit trying to find a -way in, and forthwith draw the clothes over her head and -lie trembling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Pleasing myself, therefore, with this picture, I scraped -away and laughed within myself till I nearly fell from the -ladder. Presently I heard a stirring within the chamber, -and stopped to listen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She has her head under the clothes by now,' I said -to myself, as I climbed on up to my own window, which -I found unhasped even as I had left it. I entered, gripping -the edge of the broad sill and lifting myself over with ease, -being very strong of the forearm. Indeed, I had won a -prize for wrestling at the fair that day, in spite of my -youth—a thing which I intended to keep secret till Helen -Kennedy should begin to taunt me with being but a boy -and feckless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It chanced, however, that I, who had been thus victorious -with men older than myself, was now to be vanquished, -conquered, and overset, by one who was two years younger, -and she a lassie. Then being safe in my chamber, I began -to pull up the ladder of cords with all my goods and chattels -tied at the end of it. And my thoughts were already -running on the good things therein—cakes and comfits, -sweetmeats, some bottles of Canary wine, and gee-gaws -for the adorning of my person when I rode forth—the -latter not for pride, of which I have none, but in order that -I might ride in good squirely fashion, and as became the -gentleman attendant of so great a lord as Sir Thomas -Kennedy of Culzean, Tutor of Cassillis, brother of the -late, and uncle of the present Earl of that name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I drew up my rope ladder all softly and with success, -because from the stanchions it swung clear of the walls -of the castle, for the reason that my turret jutted a little -way over, as is the custom with towers of that architecture. -And so all went well till my bundle came opposite the -window of Helen Kennedy's room. There it was suddenly -caught and gripped tight, so that I could in no wise pull it -further. Nevertheless I wrestled with it so strongly, even -as I had done with grown men at Maybole, that the cord -suddenly gave way. And what with the stress and pith of -pulling, I fell </span><em class="italics">blaff</em><span> on my back, hitting my head upon one -of the low cross-beams of my little chamberlet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This made me very angry indeed, but I leave you to -judge how much more angered I was, when I found that -the cords of my rope ladder had been cleanly severed with -a knife, and that my bundle and all it contained had been -most foully stolen from me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked out of the window, rubbing my sore head the -while with my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nell Kennedy!' I called as loudly as I dared, 'you -are nothing but a thief, and a mean thief!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lass put her head out of the window and looked up -at me, so that her hair hung down and I saw the soft lace -ruffle of her night apparel. It was long and swayed in the -wind, being of a golden yellow colour. (The hair, I am -speaking of, not, by'r Lady, the bedgown.)</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mistress Helen Kennedy from you, sirrah, if you -please!' she said. 'What may be the business upon which -Squire Launce Spurheel ventures to address his master's -daughter?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Besom!' said I, taking no heed of her tauntings; -'thief, grab-all, give me back my bundle!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My heart was hot within me, for indeed I had intended -to share everything with her in the morning, if only she -would be humble enough and come with me into the cove. -Now, there is nothing more angering than thus to be -baulked on the threshold of a generous action; and, -indeed, I was not given to the doing of any other -kind—though often enough frustrated of my intention by the -illsetness of others.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou wast a noble ghost, Spurheel,' she cried, mocking -me. 'I heard thee laughing, brave frightener of girls! -Well, I forgive thee, for it is a good bundle of excellent -devices that thou hast carried for me all the way from the -fair at Maybole. Everything that I craved for is here, -saving the brown puggy-monkey wrought with French -pastry and with little black raisins for the eyes which I -heard of yesterday!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am glad I ate that by the way,' I said, in order to -have some amends of her; for, indeed, there was no such -thing in the fair, at least so far ar I saw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'May it give thee twisty thraws and sit ill on thy -stomach, Spurheel!' she cried up at me. For at sixteen -she was more careless of her speech than a herd on the hill -when his dogs are not working sweetly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless she spoke as though she had been saying -something pleasant and, by its nature, agreeable to hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For I do not deny that the lass was sometimes -pleasant-spoken enough—to others, not to me; and that upon -occasion she could demean herself as became a great lady, -which indeed she was. And when no one was by, then I -took no ill tongue from her, but gave as good as I got or -maybe a kenning better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could hear her at the window below taking the -packages out of the bundle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye have good taste in the choice of cakes!' she said, -coming to the window again. 'The sweetmeats are most -excellent. The pastry melts in the mouth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As she looked out, she munched one of the well-raised -comfits I had bought for my own eating. At Culzean we -had but plain beef and double ale, but no lack of these. -Also puddings, black and white.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See, it flakes tenderly, being well readied!' she cried -up at me, flipping it with the forefinger of her right hand -to show its delicate lightness. She held the cake, in order -to eat it, in the palm of her left hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At which, being angered past enduring, I took up an -ornament of wood which had fallen from the back of an oak -chair, and threw it at her. But she ducked quickly within, -so that it went clattering on the rocks beneath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked out again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah—um—blundershot!' she said, mocking me with -her mouth. 'Remember you are not shooting at a -rantipole cockshy at Maybole fair.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give me my property,' I replied with some dignity and -firmness, 'else in the morning I will surely tell your father.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, ay,' cried she, 'even tell him about Maybole fair, -and coming home through the wood with your arm round -the waist of bonny Kate Allison, the Grieve's lass! He will -be most happy to hear of that, and of the other things you -have been doing all the night. Also to be thy father -confessor and set thee penance for thy deed!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a lie!' I said, angry that Nell Kennedy should -guess so discomfortably near to the truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is a lie, most sweet and pleasant-spoken youth?' -she queried, with a voice like Mistress Pussie's velvet -paws.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The matter you have spoken concerning the Grieve's -lass. I care nothing for girls!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I spoke the truth—at the moment—for, indeed, -there were things bypast that I was now sorry for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She went in and explored further in my bundle, while I -stood at the upper window above and miscalled her over the -window sill as loudly as I dared. Every little while she ran -to the window to examine something, for the light was now -coming broad from the east and flooding the sea even to -the far blue mountains of Arran and Cantyre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ribbons—and belts—and hatbands, all broidered with -silk!' she cried. 'Was ever such grandeur known in this -place of Culzean? They will do bravely for me, and -besides they will save thy back from the hangman and the -cart-tail whip. For thou, Spurheel, art not of the quality -to wear such, but they will do excellently for the pearling -and ribboning of a baron's daughter. Nevertheless, heartily -do I applaud your taste in taffeta, Spurheel, and let that be -a comfort to thee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Was there ever such a wench?' I said to myself, -stamping my foot in anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Last of all Nell brought to the window the three bottles -of Canary wine, for which I had paid so dear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is this?' she cried, with her head at the side in -her masterful cock-sparrow way. 'What is this? Wine, -wine of Canary—rotten water rather, I warrant, to be sold -in a booth at a fair? At any rate, wine is not good for -boys,' she added, 'and such drabbled stuff is not for the -drinking of a lady—wouldst thou like it, Spurheel?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She ducked in, thinking that I was about to throw -something more at her—which, indeed, I scorned to do, -besides having nothing convenient to my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Look you, Squire Launce,' she said again, crying -from the window without setting her head out, 'you are -something of a marksman, they say. There never was a -nonsuch like our Spurheel—in Spurheel's own estimation. -But I can outmark him. Fix your eye on yon black -rock with the tide just coming over it—one, two, and -three—!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in a moment one of my precious broad-bellied -bottles of wine played clash on Samson's reef two hundred -feet below the White Tower. I was fairly dancing now -with anger, and threatened to come down my rope ladder -to be even with her. Indeed, I made the cord ready to -throw myself out of the window to clamber down. But -even as I did so, the glaiked maiden sent the other two -jars of Canary to keep company with the first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she leaned out and looked up sweetly, holding the -sash of the window meantime in her hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are going to visit my father in the morning, -doubtless, and tell him all about the bundle and the Grieve's -lass. Good speed and my blessing!' she cried, making -ready to shut the window and draw the bolt. 'I am going -to sleep in Marjorie's room. The gulls are beginning to -sing. I love not to hear gabble—yours or theirs!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I leave you to guess who it was that felt himself -the greater gull.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-second-taunting-of-spurheel"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER III</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SECOND TAUNTING OF SPURHEEL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now I shall ever affirm that there was not in all this realm of -Scotland, since the young Queen Mary came out of France—of -whom our grandfathers yet make boast, and rise from -their chairs with their natural strength unabated as they -tell—so lovely a maid as Marjorie Kennedy, the elder of the two -remaining daughters of Sir Thomas, the Tutor of Cassillis. -Ever since I came to the house of Culzean, I could have lain -down gladly and let her walk over me—this even when I was -but a boy, and much more when I grew nigh to eighteen, -and had all the heart and some of the experience of a man -in the things of love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And how the lairds and knights came a-wooing her! -Ay, even belted earls like Glencairn and Eglintoun! But -Marjorie gave them no more than the bend of a scornful -head or the waft of a white hand, for she had a way with -her that moved men's brains to a very fantasy of desire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For myself, I declare that when she came down and -walked in the garden, I became like a little waggling -puppy dog, so great was my desire to attract her attention. -Yet she spoke to me but seldom, being of a nature -as noble as it was reserved. Silent and grave Marjorie -Kennedy mostly was, with the lustre of her eyes turned -more often on the far sea edges, than on the desirable -young men who rode their horses so gallantly over the -greensward to the landward gate of Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it is not of Marjorie Kennedy, whom with all my -heart I worshipped (and do worship, spite of all), that I -have at this time most to tell. It happened on this day -that, late in the afternoon, Sir Thomas, my master, came -out of the chamber where ordinarily he did his business, and -commanded me to prepare his arms, and also bid the grooms -have the horses ready, for us two only, at seven of the -clock.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That will be just at the darkening,' I said, for I -thought it a strange time to be setting forth, when the -country was so unsettled with the great feud between the -Kennedies of Cassilis and the young Laird of Bargany and -his party.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just at the darkening,' he made answer, very shortly -indeed, as though he would have minded me that the time of -departure was no business of mine—which, indeed, it was not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I oiled and snapped the pistolets, and saw that the -swords moved easily from their sheaths. Thereafter I -prepared my own hackbutt and set the match ready in my belt. -I was ever particular about my arms and of those of my lord -as well, for I prided myself on never having been faulted -in the performing of my duty, however much I might slip -in other matters that touched not mine honour as a soldier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once or twice as I rubbed or caressed the locks with a -feather and fine oil thereon, I was aware of a lightly-shod -foot moving along the passage without. I knew well that -it was the lassie Helen, anxious, as I judged, to make up the -quarrel; or, perhaps, with yet more evil in her heart, -wishful to try my temper worse than before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently she put her head within the door, but I stood -with my back to her, busy with my work at the window. -I would not so much as look up. Indeed, I cared nothing -about the matter one way or the other, for why should a -grown man and a soldier care about the glaiks and -puppet-plays of a lassie of sixteen?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stayed still by the door a moment, waiting for me -to notice her. But I did not, whereat at last she spoke. 'Ye -are a great man this day, Spurheel,' she said tauntingly. -'Did ye rowell your leg yestreen to waken ye in time to -bring hame the Grieve's lassie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I may as well tell the origin now of the name 'Spurheel,' -by which at this time she ordinarily called me. It was a -nothing, and it is indeed not worth the telling. It chanced -that for my own purpose I desired to wake one night at a -certain time, and because I was a sound sleeper, I tied a spur to -my heel, thinking that with a little touch I should waken as I -turned over. But in the night I had a dream. I dreamed -that the foul fiend himself was riding me, and I kicked so -briskly to dismount him that I rowelled myself most cruelly. -Thus I was found in the morning lying all naked, having -gashed myself most monstrously with the spur, which has -been a cast-up against me with silly people ever since.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this is the whole tale why I was called 'Spurheel,' -and in it there was no word of the Grieve's daughter—though -Kate Allison was a bonny, well-favoured lass too, and that I -will maintain in spite of all the gibes of Helen Kennedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will bring you the spoons and the boots also to clean,' -she said, 'and the courtyard wants sweeping!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In this manner she often spoke to me as if I had been a -menial, because when I did my squire's duty with the weapons -and the armour, I would not let her so much as touch them, -which she much desired to do, for she was by nature as -curious about these things as a boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So for show and bravery I tried the edge of my own sword -on the back of my hand. Nell Kennedy laughed aloud.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hairs on the back of a bairn's hand!' quoth she. 'Better -try your carving knife instead on the back of a horse's -currying comb!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I knew when to be silent, and she got no satisfaction -out of me. And that was ever the better way of it with -her, when I could sufficiently command my temper to -follow mine own best counsel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the afternoon wore on, and before it was over I had -time to go out into the fields, and also towards evening to -the tennis-court—where, to recreate myself, I played sundry -games with James and Alexander Kennedy, good lads enough, -but ever better at that ball play which has no powder behind it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the gloaming the horses were ready and accoutred for -the expedition. The Tutor of Cassillis and I rode alone, as -was his wont—so great was his trust in my courage and -discretion, though my years were not many, and (I grant it) -the hairs yet few on my chin. It was still March, and the -bitter winter we had had seemed scarcely to have blown -itself out. So that, although the crows had a week before -been carrying sticks for their nesting in the woods of -Culzean, yet now, in the quick-coming dark, the snowflakes -were again whirling and spreading ere they reached the -ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we rode through the courtyard and out at the gate, I -heard the soft pit-pat of a foot behind us, for I have a good -ear. I heard it even through the clatter of the hoofs of our -war horses. So I turned in my saddle, and there behind us -was that madcap lass, Nell Kennedy, with her wylicoats kilted -and a snowball in her hand, which she manifestly designed -to throw at me. But even as I ducked my head the ball -flew past me and hit Sir Thomas's horse 'Ailsa' on the rump, -making him curvet to the no small discomfort of the rider.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What was that, think ye, Launcelot?' my master asked -in his kindly way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It might have been a bat,' I made answer—for it was, at -least, no use bringing the lassie into the affair, in spite of -what she had done to me that morning. Besides, I could -find out ways of paying my debts to her without the telling -of tales, and that was always one comfort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a queer time of year for bats,' answered Sir -Thomas, doubtfully. But he rode on and said no more. -I kept behind him, ducking my head and appearing to be -in terror of another snowball, for the ground was now -whitening fast. Nell Kennedy followed after, making her -next ball harder by pressing it in her hand. So we went till -we came to the far side of the drawbridge and were ready to -plunge into the woodlands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I gave the whistle which tells that all is well on -the landward side, and is the signal for the bridge to be -raised. Gabby Gib-cat heard and obeyed quickly, as he -was wont to do when his master was not far away. At -other times he was lazy as the hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bridge went grinding up, and therefore the Gib-cat -would immediately, as I knew, stretch himself for a sleep -by the fire. So there I had Mistress Nell on the landward -side of the drawbridge and the gate up, with the snow -dancing down on her bare head and her coats kilted for -mischief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I lagged a little behind Sir Thomas, so that I could -say to Nell, whose spirits were somewhat dashed by the -raising of the bridge, 'Step down to the water side and -bring up the three bottles of Canary, or go over to the -farm and keep the Grieve's lass company. She may -perchance be lonely.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So waving my hand and laughing, I rode off and left -her alone. I hoped that she cried, for my heart was hot -within me because of the good things on which I had -expended all my saving, and which I had in all kindliness -meant to share with her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet we had not reached the great oak in the park -before she was again by my side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Think ye I canna gang up the ladder in the White -Tower as well as you, Spurheel. It is just kilting my -coats a kennin' higher!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I could have bitten my fingers off that I had -forgotten to pull it in again to my chamber. For in the -morning I had mended and dropped it, not knowing when -it might be needed.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-inn-on-the-red-moss"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE INN ON THE RED MOSS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And now to tell of sterner business. For light-wit havering -with a lass bairn about a great house is but small part of the -purpose of my story—though I can take pleasure in that -also when it chances to come my way, as indeed becomes a -soldier.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We rode on some miles through the woods. It still -snowed, and straying flakes disentangled themselves from -among the branches and sprinkled us sparsely. It grew -eerie as the night closed in, and we heard only the roar of -the wind above us, the leafless branches clacking against -one another like the bones of dead men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not my place to ask whither we were going, but -it may be believed that I was anxious enough to learn. -By-and-by we struck into the moorland road which climbs over -the Red Moss in the direction of the hill that is called Brown -Carrick. The snow darkness settled down, and, but that -once I had been friendly with a lass who lived in that -direction, and so was accustomed to night travel in these -parts, I should scarce have known whither we were going.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I understood that it could only be to the lonesome -Inn of the Red Moss, kept by Black Peter, that Culzean -was making his way. As we began to climb the moor, Sir -Thomas motioned me with his hand to ride abreast of him, -and to make ready my weapons, which I was not loth to do, -for I am no nidderling to be afraid of powder. When at -last we came to the Inn of the Red Moss, there were lights -shining in the windows, and looking out ruddy and lowering -under the thatch of the eaves. It was ever an uncanny spot, -and so it was more than ever now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But for all that the Red Moss was populous as a bees' -byke that night, for men and horses seemed fairly to swarm -about it. Yet there was no jovial crying or greeting between -man and man, such as one may hear any market day upon -the plainstones of Ayr.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men who were meeting thus by dark of night, were -mostly men of position come together upon a dangerous and -unwholesome ploy. As soon as I saw the quality of the -gentlemen who were, assembled, I knew that we had come -to a gathering of the heads of the Cassillis faction. Nor -was it long before I saw my lord himself, a tall, well-set -young man, inclining to stoutness, and of a fair complexion -with closely-cut flaxen hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird of Culzean, my master, lighted down and took -the Earl by the hand, asking in his kindly way,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it well with you, John?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For in his minority he had been his tutor and governor, -and in after years had agreed well with him, which is not -so common.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, well with me,' replied the Earl, 'but it is that -dotard fool, Kelwood, who has gotten the chest of gold -and jewels, which in my father's time was stolen from -the house of Cassillis by Archibald Bannatyne, who was my -father's man. He died in my father's hands, who was not a -cat to draw a straw before. Nevertheless, even in the Black -Vault of Dunure he could not be brought to reveal where he -had hidden the chest. But now Kelwood, or another for -him, has gotten it from Archie's widow, a poor woman that -knew not its worth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But Kelwood will deliver it, John. Is he not your -man? Trouble not any more about the matter,' counselled -the Tutor, who was ever for the milder opinion, and very -notably wise as well as slow in judgment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said the Earl, 'deliver it he will not, for Bargany -and Auchendrayne have gotten his ear, and he has set his -mansion house in defence against us. I have called you -here, Tutor, for your good advice. Shall we levy our men -and beset Kelwood, or how shall we proceed that I may -recover that which is most justly mine own?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For it was ever the bitterest draught to the Earl to lose -siller or gear. The Tutor stood for a moment by his -beast's neck, holding his head a little to one side in a way -he had when he was considering anything—a trick which -his daughter Nell has also.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How many are ye here?' he said to the Earl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We are fifteen,' the Earl replied.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All gentlemen?' again asked the Tutor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All cadets of mine own house, and ready to fight to the -death for the blue and gold!' replied the Earl, giving a cock -to the bonnet, in the side of which he had the lilies of -France upon a rosette of blue velvet, which (at that time) -was the Cassillis badge of war.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the Earl spoke, I, who stood a little behind with my -finger on the cock of my pistol, saw my lord raise a -questioning eyebrow at me, as if to ask his uncle who the -young squire might be whom he had brought with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is the son of John Kennedy of Kirrieoch, and with -us to the death,' said my master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For which most just speech I thanked him in my heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The name is a good one,' said the Earl, with a little -quaintish smile. And well might he say so, for it was his -own, and my father of as good blood as he, albeit of a -younger branch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently we were riding forth again, seventeen men in -our company, for the Earl had not counted the Tutor and -myself in his numeration. We rode clattering and careless -over the moors, by unfrequented tracks or no track at all. -As we went I could hear them talking ever about the -treasure of Kelwood, and, in especial, I heard a strange, -daftlike old man, whom they called Sir Thomas Tode, -tell of the Black Vault of Dunure, and how lands and gear -were gathered by the tortures there. His tales and his -manners were so strange and unseemly, that I vowed -before long to take an opportunity to hear him more fully. -But now there was much else to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Betimes we came to the tower of Kelwood and saw -only the black mass of it stand up against the sky, with -not a peep of light anywhere. Now, as you may judge, -we went cannily, and as far as might be we kept over the -soft ground. The Tutor bade us cast a compass about -the house, so that we might make ourselves masters of the -fields, and thus be sure that no enemy was lying there in wait -for us. But we encompassed the place and found nothing -alive, save some lean swine that ran snorting forth from a -shelter where they had thought to pass the night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I and the young Laird of Gremmat, being the -best armed and most active there, were sent forward to spy -out the securest way of taking the tower. I liked the job -well enough, for I never was greatly feared of danger all my -days; and at any rate there is small chance of distinction -sitting one's horse in the midst of twenty others in an open -field.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Gremmat and I went about the house and about, -which was not a castle with towers and trenches, like -Dunure or Culzean, but only a petty blockhouse. And I -laughed within myself to think of such a bees' byke having -the mighty assurance to dream of keeping a treasure against -my Lord Cassillis, as well as against the Tutor of that ilk -and me, his squire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was no drawbridge nor yet so much as a ditch -about Kelwood Tower, but only a little yett-house with an -open pend or passage, that gave against the main wall of the -building. Within this passage, could we gain it, I knew that -we should be well protected, and have time to burst in the -wall, even if the door withstood us. For once within the -archway, I could not see how it was possible for those in the -house to reach us, in any way to do us harm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Gremmat and I therefore went back to our company with -the news, but the best of it—the part concerning the -yett-house—I kept to myself. For the Laird of Gremmat, though -a tough fighter, was not a man of penetration, so that -I well deserved the credit of telling what I alone had seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I told the chiefs of my discovery, my Lord of -Cassillis said nothing but turned abruptly to the Tutor, -thinking nothing of my tidings or of the danger I had been in to -bring them. Nevertheless Sir Thomas, my master, turned -first to me, as was his kindly custom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is well done of you, Launcelot. The sheep herding -on Kirrieoch has given you an eye for other things,' he -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at that I think the Earl gave me a little more -consideration, though all that he said was no more than, 'Well, -Tutor, and what do you advise?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think,' said the Tutor, 'that you and the younger men -had best take Launcelot's advice, and conceal yourselves in -the pend of the yett-house, with picks and, perhaps, a mickle -tree for a battering-ram, while I and a trumpeter lad summon -Kelwood himself to surrender. In that clump of trees over -there we shall be out of reach of their matchlocks.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the Earl took the advice, and in a little we were in the -black trough of the pend, with an iron-bolted door in front -and the rough, unhewn stones of the wall on either side of us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Tutor's trumpet blew one rousing blast and then -another, till we could hear the stir of men roused out of their -sleep in the tower above us. But we ourselves held our -breaths and keeped very quiet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more the trumpet blew from the clump of oak trees -over against the main gate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who may ye be that blaws horns in the Kelwood without -asking leave of me?' cried a voice from the narrow window -in the wall above us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And my master, Sir Thomas, answered him from the -coppice,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is I, Kennedy of Culzean, that come from your liege -lord to demand the treasure that is his, stolen from his -house by his false servant and now reset by you, Laird Currie -of Kelwood.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird laughed contumeliously from his turret window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An' the Earl wants his treasure, let him come and fetch -it,' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At which answer it was all that we could do to keep the -Earl quiet. He was for setting the squared tree to the door -at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kelwood,' again we heard the voice of Sir Thomas, -'I ken well who has deceived you in this matter. Listen -to no glosing words. No man can strive with the -Kennedy and prosper in all these lands 'twixt Clyde and -Solway.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Which Kennedy?' cried Kelwood, from his window, -fleeringly. And this set the Earl more bitterly against him -than ever, for it was as much as to say that the Bargany -Kennedies were equal in power and place to his own house -of Cassillis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lift the trees and to it!' he cried, and with that, being -a strong man of his own body, he garred a great -fore-hammer dirl against the iron of the door. And though he -had many faults, this forwardness should be minded to him -for good. Then there was a noise indeed, coulters and -fore-hammers dinging merrily against the door, while from aloft -came shouts and the rolling of heavy stones down about us; -but by my strategy there was not one came near to hurting -us. The defenders might have been so many sparrows -fyling the roof, for all the harm they did to us. But -nevertheless, they banged away their powder and shouted. We -that were with the Earl shouted none, but kept dourly to -our work. Stark and strong was the bolted door of -Kelwood, and all the might of our men could do it no injury, -nor so much as shake the hinges. It must have been the -work of a deacon among the hammermen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I felt that we were against the wall of the kitchen, -for one side of the passage was warm, on my right hand, and -the other clammy and cold. So I cried on them, to leave -the door and pull down the stones of the jamb on my -right. Then since I had given them good advice before, -and they knew that I was of the household of the wise man -of Culzean, they were the more ready to take the counsel, -though they thanked me not a word, but only lifted the -tree and drave at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Make first a hole with the crowbars,' said I. 'Pull -down the stones; they are set without lime under the -harling.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they did it, and we found the first part of the wall -as I had said, not difficult of conquest; but the inner, being -cemented with shell lime, was like adamant. Therefore, -with a shout, we set the tree to it, swinging it in our hands. -After many attempts we sent the butt of it crushing -through, and then, before the enemy could come to the -threatened place, we had made a hole large enough for a -man to enter on his hands and knees. I was leaping -forward to be first within, but Gremmat got in front of -me and crawled through. Whereat the Laird of Kelwood -himself came at him with his gun, and shot Gremmat in -the kernel of the thigh, so that he dropped in a heap on -the floor, and was ever thereafter unable of his legs. But -I that came second (and right glad was I then that I had -not been first) rose and set my point at Kelwood, for he -was tangled up with the reeking musket. I had him -pierced before ever he had time to draw, and was set in -defence for the next that might come, when the Earl and -the other gentlemen came rushing past us both, and -completely invaded the place of Kelwood, so that all within it -immediately surrendered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Earl was like a man gone mad to find the -chest, and questioned the Laird, who, as was somewhat -natural, could do nothing but groan on the floor, with -my sword-thrust through his shoulder. But in a little -they found the box in a cunning wall-press under his bed, -where it could not be reached except by moving the whole -couch from its place and sliding a panel back—which being -done, the secret cavity was made plain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been a harder task to transport young Gremmat -back with us than it was to take the treasure—which was -in a small enough compass, though heavy beyond belief. But -after going a mile or two we left the young wildcap at -the house of a good and safe man, who made himself bound -to the Earl for his safe keeping till he should be whole of -his wound.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-throwing-of-the-bloody-dagger"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER V</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE THROWING OF THE BLOODY DAGGER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Indeed it had been no likeable job to deny Cassillis that -night. For with the fighting, the treasure, and the -reproaches of Kelwood, whom he could hardly be kept from -finishing with his own hand, his spirit was apt for wars and -stratagems—all the more that he himself had as yet had little -experience of blows or the smart of wounds. Kelwood we -left with those of his dependents that had been in the tower -with him. His wound proved not so serious as it might have -been, and in a month he was safe with the Laird of -Kerse—which thing occasioned a most bitter quarrel between -Cassillis and the Craufords, as indeed hereafter ye shall hear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was already greying for the dawn when we reached -the House on the Red Moss. Black Peter was at the door, -and within the kitchen a large fire was blazing, which, -because the night was chill and the sweat of fighting hardly -yet well dried on us, we were right glad to see. We laid -down the chest in a little trance at the back of the kitchen, -setting it upon an oatmeal ark which stood there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Black Peter went out to hold our horses while we talked -together, and left his daughter, a well-favoured lass of about -my own years or thereby, to wait upon us. So meeting -the lass in the dusk of the trance, on pretext of seeing that -the treasure was safe, I took occasion of a kiss of her—not -that I liked it over much, or that her favours were precious, -but because such like is held a soldier's privilege at an inn, -and no more to be disregarded than the reckoning—indeed, -somewhat less.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the wench dang me soundly on the ear for it, so that -my head echoed again. Yet I liked her better for that, -because it made the adventure something worth attempting. -'Go,' she cried, 'grow your beard before ye set up to -kiss women. I would as soon kiss the back of my hand as -a man wanting the beard to his face.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus she gave me also the woman's buffet of the tongue, -and I could have answered her, and well, too, but that I saw -behind me my Lord Cassillis himself, and right heartily he -was laughing—which, I do admit, disconcerted me no little, -and brought me to silence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, lad,' he said, 'have ye not learned from your -experience of this night that women are just like castles? Ye -must reconnoitre them circumspectly before ye can hope to -take them by direct assault.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went by, giving me a clap on the shoulder, as one -that had sympathy both with the winning of castles and -of women. And I think he liked me none the worse for -it in the long run. But I hoped that he would not make -a jest of it nor tell the Tutor of the matter. For my -master, Sir Thomas of Culzean, being a grave man and -reverend, was not apt to look upon the follies of youth -with so kindly and comprehending an eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Within the kitchen of the Inn of the Red Moss there was -routh of liquor, and all the Cassillis faction were gathered -there, quaffing and pledging one another. They were -flushed with their success, and several were even keen for -assaulting some of the Bargany strongholds at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Tutor cautioned them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mind what ye do. Young Bargany is as a lion compared -to that braying ass we left groaning behind us at -Kelwood; and John Muir of Auchendrayne has at once -the wisest head and the evilest heart in all this broad -Scotland. Be patient and abide. We have gotten the -treasure. Let us be content and wait.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, and by waiting give them the next score in the -game!' said the young Earl, scornfully—for he, too, was hot -with success.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they stood about the kitchen with drinking-cups of -horn in their hands, while the Earl unfolded a plan of the -great house of Bargany, and began to explain how it might -be taken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But,' he said, 'we must wait till, by some overt and -considered act of war, Bargany gives me the chance to execute -justice within my Balliary of Carrick, as is my legal right. -Then swiftly we shall strike, before that Bargany can reach -us with the sword, or John Muir of Auchendrayne foil us -by getting at the King with his fox's cunning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hardly were the words out of his mouth when a silence -fell upon us. The Earl ceased speaking and inclined his -head as though, like the rest of us, he were harkening eagerly -for the repeating of a sound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we who listened with him heard something that -was like the clattering of horses' feet at a gallop, which -came nearer and nearer. There arose a cry from the front -of the house—that wild, shrill scream, the unmistakable -parting cry of a man stricken to death with steel. Then broke -forth about the Inn of the Red Moss, the rush of many -horses snorting with fear and fleeing every way, the while -we, that were in the house, stood as it had been carved in -stone, so swift and unexpected was this thing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl remained by the table in the centre, with his -hand yet on the plan of the house of his enemy. Sir -Thomas was still bending down to look, when all suddenly -the glass of the window crashed and a missile came flashing -through, thrown by a strong man's hand. It fell with -a ring of iron across the paper that was outspread on the -table. It was a dagger heavily hiked with silver. But -what thrilled us all with fear was, that the blade of it was -red nearly to the hilt, and distilled fresh-dripping blood -upon the chart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then was heard from without something that sounded like -a man laughing—but as of a man that had been longtime in -hell—and again there came the galloping of a single horse's feet. -The first in all in the house to run to the door was no -other than the young lass I had tried to kiss. She flung -the door open and ran to a dark, huddled thing, which -lay across the paving stones of the little causeway in front -of the inn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My father—oh, they have slain my father!' she cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We that were within also rushed out by the front door, -forgetting all else, and filled with dread of what we might see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The dawn was coming red from the east, and there, in -the first flush of it, lay Black Peter, plain to be seen, a dark -tide sluggishly welling from his side, and his young daughter -trying pitifully to staunch it with the bit laced napkin -wherewith she had bound her hair to make her pleasant in the -men's eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Peter of the Red Moss saw the Earl, he tried -to raise himself upon his elbow from the ground. One -feeble hand went waveringly to his head as if to remove -his bonnet in the presence of his chief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Cassillis sank on his knees beside him and took the hand. -There was a fragment of a leather rein still clasped in it, -cut across with a clean, slicing cut.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Peter, Peter, poor man, who has done this to you?' -he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man that was about to die turned his eyes this -way and that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lord, my lord,' he said, struggling with the choking -blood that rose in his throat, 'it was—it was—the grey -man—!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the Earl listened for more with his ear down to -Peter's mouth, but the spirit of the man who had died for -his master ebbed dumbly away without another word. So -there was nothing left for us to do but to carry him in, -and this we did in the young sunshine of a pleasant -morning. And the maid washed and streeked him, moaning -and crooning over him piteously, as a dove does that -wanteth company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went, as it happed, into the trance to fetch her a -basin of clear water. The top of the meal-ark stood empty!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lord—the chest!' I cried, and all save the maid -alone rushed in. The treasure of Kelwood was gone! -Without the door, on the trampled clay and mud, there -were the steads of naked feet many and small. But of -the treasure-chest for which we had ventured so much -that night, we saw neither hilt nor hair, clasp nor band.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Only in the kitchen of the house on the Red Moss -there was a dead man, and a maid mourning over him; -on the table a dagger, red to the guard, and from it fell -slowly the drip of a man's life blood, blotting out with a bitter -scorn the plans of our wisest and the enmity of our proudest.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-crown-of-the-causeway"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CROWN OF THE CAUSEWAY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I rode forth from Edinburgh town with infinite glee and -assurance of spirit. No longer could I be slighted as a boy, -for that day I, even I, Launcelot Kennedy, had been put to -the horn—that is, I had been proclaimed rebel and outlaw -at the Cross of Edinburgh with three blasts of the king's -horn, 'Against John, Earl of Cassillis, Sir Thomas of -Culzean, called the Tutor of Cassillis, and Launcelot -Kennedy, his esquire!' So had run the proclamation. -I wondered what that unkempt, ill-tongued lassie, Nell -Kennedy, would say to this. But the honour itself even -she could not gainsay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is true that there were others forfaulted as well as I—the -Earl himself that was a sitter in the King's council board, -Sir Thomas, my master, and, indeed, all that had any hand -in the great contest in the High Street of Edinburgh. How -close had every leal burgess kept within doors that day and -how briskly screamed for the watch! How the town -guards sequestered themselves safe behind bars, and were -very quiet, for there was hardly a man to be seen from the -castle to Holyrood-House that was not a Kennedy, and -trying to kill some other Kennedy—as indeed is ever the -way with our name and clan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We of Cassillis had ridden hot foot to Edinburgh to -denounce the Bargany faction to the king, in the matter of -the treasure and the killing of Black Peter. Not that we -knew for certain that it was Bargany who had any hand in -the murder and reiving. But it was necessary to make a -bold face for it, and, at all events, we knew that the thing -had been done in Bargany's interests. So we went, all -prepared to declare that the active criminal was Bargany's -brother, Thomas of Drummurchie, a bold and desperate -villain, who had been outlawed for years for many a crime -besides murder in all its degrees. Also we hoped that if -the king were in a good humour towards us of Cassillis, -who were always the men of loyalty and peace, he might -even attaint Bargany himself. So that our Earl, being the -Bailzie or chief ruler of Carrick under the King, might get -his will of his house foe, and thus put an end to the quarrel. -For there was no other hope of peace, save that our enemies -should be laid waste.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we found King James in aught but a yielding mood. -The ministers of Edinburgh, and in especial one, Mr Robert -Bruce, a man of very great note, and once a prime favourite -with the king, had been setting themselves against his will. -So at first we got little satisfaction, and it did not help -matters that, on the second day of our visit, the Bargany -Kennedies and Mures rode into the town in force—all -sturdy men from the landward parts of Carrick, while -we were mostly slighter and limberer lads, from the side -of it that looks towards the sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next day, as I went down the Canongate with the -gold lilies of Cassillis on my cocked bonnet, I declare that -nearly every third man I met was a Bargany lout, swaggering -with his silly favour of red and white in his cap. But, for -all that, I ruffled it right bravely in despite of them all, letting -no man cock his feather at me. For I had a way, which I -found exceedingly irritating to them, of turning the skirt or -my blue French cloak over my shoulder when I met one of -the other faction, as if I feared defilement from the contact -of their very garments. This I did with all of the -underlings—aye, even with Mure of Cloncaird. Indeed, I had -already had my long sword three times out of its sheath by -the time I got to the guard-house at Holyrood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was just there that I met young Bargany himself, -coming direct, from the King's presence. But I practised -my pleasantry not with him. For a more kingly-looking -man did I never see—far beyond our Earl (shame be to me -for saying such a thing!), and, indeed, before any man that -ever I saw. But Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany was the -bravest man that was to be gotten in any land, as all men -that saw him in his flower do to this day admit. And -hearts were like water before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He was of his stature tall and well-made, with a complexion -black but comely, noble on horseback, and a master -both of arms and at all pastimes. And when I beheld him, -it came upon me to salute him—which, though I had small -intention thereof till I saw him, I did. It was with some -surprise, perceiving, no doubt, the Earl's colours, that he -returned my greeting, and that very graciously. The -moment after I looked about me, and right glad I was to -observe that none of our folk had been in the place before -the palace to observe my salutation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this we of Cassillis went in parties of three or -four, and our swords were in our hands all the day, in spite -of the watch—ay, in spite even of the King's Guard, which -His Majesty had sent to keep the peace, when he himself -had gone off to Linlithgow in the sulks, as at this time was -oft his silly wont.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For me, I went chiefly with Sir Thomas, my master, as -was my duty; but being allowed to choose my companion, -I chose Muckle Hugh from Kirriemore, which marches with -mine own home of Kirrieoch on Minnochside. Hugh was -the strongest man in all Carrick, and had joined the -command chiefly for the love of me—because he had once -herded sheep for us, and my mother had been kind to him -and given him new milk instead of skim for his porridge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I warrant you when the two of us took the crown -of the causeway, we stepped aside for no man, not even for -Bargany and his brother Drummurchie had we seen them -(which by good luck we never did). But others we saw in -plenty. It was 'Bargany thieves!' 'Cassillis cairds!' as -we cried one to the other across the street. And the next -moment there we were, ruffling and strutting like gamecocks, -foot-to-foot in the midst of the causeway, neither -willing to give way. Then 'Give them iron!' would be -the cry; and in a clapping of hands there would be as pretty -a fight as one might wish to see—till, behold, in a gliff, -there on the cobble stones was a man stretched, and all -workmanly completed from beginning to end, while the -clock of St Giles' was jangling the hour of noon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the matter of the killing of Black Peter, and the way -that lassie his daughter held his head as she washed him, -abode with us, and made our hearts hot against the Barganies. -That is, the hearts of the younger of us. For I wot well -that the elders thought more of the lost box of treasure, than -of many men's lives far more famous and necessary than -that of poor Black Peter, who died in his duty at the house -door of the Red Moss—and that is not at all an ill death -to die.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there came a day when the ill blood drew to a head. -It was bound to come, because for weeks the two factions of -us Kennedies had been itching to fly at each other's throats. -The Barganies mostly lodged together in the lower parts of -the town beneath the Nether Bow, in order to keep us away -from the King when he was at Holyrood House, and also -to be near the haunts of those loose characters of the baser -sort with whom, as was natural, they chiefly consorted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We, on our part, dwelled in the upper portion of the town, -in the well-aired Lawnmarket and in the fashionable closes -about the Bow-head. For none of us, so far as I knew, desired -to mix or to mell with loose company—save, an' it might be, -the Earl himself. That being 'the custom and privilege of -the nobility,' as Morton said to his leman, when he wished -to change her for another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, we had among us of our company one Patrick -Wishart, an indweller in Irvine and a good fighter. He was -an Edinburgh man born, and knew all the town—every lane -and street, every bend and bow, every close and pend and -turning in it. He also knew that which was even more -valuable, where the King's Guard were, and how to shut -them up till we had done our needs upon our foes. He was -well advised besides where each of the leaders among the -Barganies dwelt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the day appointed the Earl gave us all a meeting-place -by the back of Saint Giles' High Kirk, beneath the wall of -the Tolbooth. And there we mustered at ten of the clock -one gay morning. It was a windy day, and, spite of the sun, -the airs blew shrewdly from the eastern sea, as is their use and -wont all the year in the High Street of Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now our young Earl had ever plenty of siller though -afterward he parted with it but seldom. Yet for the furtherance -of his cause he had spent it lavishly during these days -in Edinburgh, so that all the common orders in our upper -part of the town held him to be the greatest man and the -best that ever lived. And as for the vices he showed, they -were easy, popular ones, such as common folk readily excuse -and even approve in the great—as women, wine, and such-like.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So as we swung down the street all the windows of the -armourers' shops in the booths about the Kirk of Saint Giles' -were opened, and as many as desired it were supplied with -spears and pikes and long-handled Highland axes, each with -a grappling hook at the back, such-like as had brought many -a good knight down at the Red Harlaw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And these were afterwards a great advantage to us, -for though we were much fewer in numbers, yet we had -longer weapons of assault and also the upper side of the -street to fight from.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we sallied forth crying, 'A Kennedy!' And -the streets were lined to see us go by, many a douce -burgher's wife, knowing our good intentions and our not -companying with the riotous troublers of the town, but -rather, when we could compass it, with honest, sonsy -women, giving us her blessing from an upper window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Patrick Wishart advised that we should stop up all the -alleys and closes as far down as the Blackfriar's Wynd with -barracadoes of carts, barrels, and puncheons, to prevent the -enemy sallying forth upon us from behind. It was a good -thought, and but for a foe without, whom we knew not how -to reckon with, it had been completely successful. Down -by the Nether Bow, where the street narrows, was the place -where we first saw the misleared Bargany faction drawn across -the street to resist us and contemn the King's authority.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we observed them we gave a mighty shout and -heaved our weapons into the air, that they might see the -excellence of our arming. They sent a shout back again, -and I saw in front of their array Bargany himself with a -casque on his head, the sun glinting the while on a steel -cuirass which covered him back and front. Then I gave -the word to blow up the matches; for by this time I was well -kenned for a good soldier and proper marksman, and had by -my lord himself been put over the hackbuttmen, which was -a great honour for one so young. Thus we advanced to -the onset. But first my Lord of Cassillis, going to the front, -cried to Kennedy of Bargany to know why he withstood -him in the highway of the King's principal town.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Because ye have lied concerning me to the King. Because -ye have slain my men, hated my race, and sought to -bring me to my death!' answered back young Bargany in -a clear, high voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye lie, man! Have at you with the sword!' cried -our Earl, who was never a great man with his tongue, -though sometimes masterful enough with his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with that I gave the order, and our hackbuttmen shot -off their pieces, so that more than one of the wearers of the -red and white fell headlong.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A Kennedy! A Kennedy!' cried the Earl. 'To it, -my lads!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in a moment we were on them. By instinct we -had dropped our matchlocks and taken to the steel, so that -the first thing that I knew, I was at Thomas of -Drummurchie's throat with my borrowed pike. He roared an -oath, and leaping to the side, he struck the shaft with his -two-handed sword, which shore the point off near to my -upper grip. And there is little doubt but that I had been -spent ere I could have drawn my sword, had not Muckle -Hugh of Kirriemore brought his broadsword down upon -the steel cap of the Wolf of Drummurchie, so that with the -mighty blow he was beaten to the ground, and, being -senseless, men trampled upon him as the battle swayed to -and fro. Yet I have never forgotten that, but for Hugh, -I was that day almost sped, which should have been a -lesson to me not to trust to a weapon of which I had no -skill, even though it might be an ell longer in the haft -than my sword. Also I was thankful to God.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A Kennedy! a Kennedy!' cried we. 'We are -driving them. They give back!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For we felt the downward push upon the hillslope, and -that gave us courage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the crying of 'Bargany' was almost silenced, for -now the wearers of the butcher's colours had enough to do -to keep steeks with us, with their faces braced to the brae, -and so needed all their breath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time I had my arm cleared and my sword out, -and, certes, but the fray was brisk. Now, when it is hand to -hand I fear no man. Once I had a chance of paying my -score in the matter of Drummurchie, for as I passed over -him he cut upwards at me with a knife. But I spared only -long enough from the man I was engaging at the time -(who indeed was no swordsman or I dared not have done it) -to slash the Wolf across the wrist, which, I am given to -believe, has troubled his sword-hand all his life—and for no -more than this he has borne me a grudge unto this day, so -malicious and revengeful are some men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus we drove the Bargany faction into the Canongate -in spite of the swordsmanship of their chief, who fought -ever in the forefront. It was, indeed, all over with them, -when suddenly, from behind us, there came rushing a -rabblement of men with weapons in their hands, all crying -'Bargany!' Able-bodied scoundrels with long hair and -pallid faces they were, and they laid about them with -desperate vigour. Now, it is no wonder that this was a -terrible surprise to us, and, hearing their cry, the broken -Bargany folk down the streets and closes took heart of grace -to have at us again. We were not discouraged, but part of -us faced about, so as to fight with our backs set one, to the -other. Nevertheless, I saw at once that unless some help -came we were overpowered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Into the lanes!' I cried, though, indeed, I had no right -to give an order, but, in the pinch of necessity, it is he -who sees that should lead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So into one of the narrow lanes which led to the ford -and down by the stepping-stones across the Nor' Loch -we ran, but not in the way of a rout. Rather we retreated -orderly and slow—withdrawing, grieved at heart to think -that we had to leave so many of our sick and wounded -behind us. Yet, because of the love they bore us as -peaceable men, we knew that the town's dames would -succour them—also lest we should be bloodily revenged -on their husbands when we came back, if they did not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the edge of the Nor' Loch, six or seven of us made -a rally, and having wounded and captured one of the long-haired -desperadoes whose assault had turned the tables against -Cassillis, we brought him with us, thinking that my Lord -might wish to question him with the pilniewinks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now not many of the Bargany faction pursued; some -because they knew not whither we were gone, some because -both their chief and the Wolf of Drummurchie were -hurt, and others again because the rabble which had fallen -on our rear, not knowing one party from another, had -turned their weapons upon their friends.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, it was a patent fact that we good men of -Cassillis had been baffled and put to shame by the thieves of -Bargany in the open High Street of Edinburgh. It has not -happened to many to be victorious and pursuing, and again -broken and defeated, all within the space of half-an-hour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we were safe from pursuit on the other side of -the Nor' Loch, we questioned the varlet whom I and others -had captured, as to what was his quarrel against us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing,' he said. 'I and the others were lying in -the Tolbooth, when suddenly the gates were opened, and -there stood one at the door, clad in grey, who gave a sword -or a pike to each man, as well as a piece of gold, telling us -that there were other ten of the same awaiting each good -striker who should fall on and fight those whom he would -show us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What like was this man?' said Sir Thomas, my master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An ordinary man enough,' said the fellow; 'grey of -head and also clad in grey, but with armour that rattled -beneath his clothes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we looked at one another, and remembered the -dying words of Black Peter—'It was—it was—the Grey -Man—!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once more such a man had crossed the luck of -Cassillis. By what golden key he had bribed the warders -and opened His Majesty's Tolbooth, we knew not; but -assuredly he had clean beaten us from the field.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, I was much cheered to hear on the next -day that the name of Launcelot Kennedy, called 'of -Kirrieoch, or Launcelot of the Spurs,' was among those -that were 'put to the horn,' or in plain words declared -rebel and outlaw at the Cross of Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For I knew that Nell Kennedy would never flout me -more. Even fair Marjorie would, perhaps, not disdain -speech with me now, and might perchance let me walk -by her side in the garden some summer evening.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="my-lady-s-favours"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MY LADY'S FAVOURS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was as I had foretold. Those that had flouted me for a -beardless boy, now scorned me no more. I mean chiefly -Nell Kennedy. Indeed, for some days it was as much as -I would do even to speak to her. She would make shift -oftentimes to pass me in the pleasaunces of the house of -Culzean, when I walked abroad in the sunshine with my -hand on my sword—as was my duty—to receive her father's -guests. For there was a great repair of people to our castle -ever since the outlawing, the cause of which was considered -most fortunate and honourable to all concerned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell Kennedy, as I say, would often pass me in the orchard -or in the Italian garden, which her father had made with -great expense. And as she went by, she would kick with -her foot a stone in front of me. But of this I took no heed -whatever, no more than if I had not seen it. Because, for -my own part, I was resolved never to think of maids and -such light matters again, but rather to concern myself solely -with glory, as became one who at eighteen had been outlawed -for rebellion and other deeds of military prowess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Once it happened that we were all in the garden—Marjorie, -the loons James and Alexander Kennedy, and little -David, Sir Thomas's youngest son. Also Nell Kennedy was -there. Sir Thomas himself was walking to and fro at the -garden's end, all by his lone, with his hands clasped behind -his back, as was his custom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Nell, who, being angry, desired above all else to put -a slight upon me, called me to come to her, speaking roughly -as though I had been a servitor, and bade me take a -misbehaving puppy dog of hers within doors.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I was equal with her, and beckoned to me Sandy, her -brother, who played about on the grass plots.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who may this little girl be that hath the messan dog with -her?' I asked of him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou art a great blind colt-head not to know my sister -Nell!' he answered, and ran again to his play with his brothers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' said I, looking over the heads of those that stood near -by, 'now I do remember to have seen the little maid -playing with her dolls before I went to the wars!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that I marched off, and walked to and fro on -the terrace near to my master. Presently he came and -walked with me, as I had hoped he would, in sight of Nell -and of them all, speaking low and kindly the while. And I -listened as though it were an affair of State and policy he had -been confiding to my private ear, though indeed it was only -concerning our greatly increased expenses with the vast -number of guests who came to see him, and his fear that -the buttery might be running low.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Nell Kennedy had betaken herself away in an access -of anger and despite, I made my bow to Sir Thomas, her father, -and went to the Italian pleasaunce once again. Presently the -young Lady Marjorie came walking by, fairer of face than -the flower of the hawthorn hedge on a moonlight night, but -with hair tossed about her temples blacker than the sky on a -night of stars. Her eyes were bright and large when she -turned them on me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot, come and walk with me awhile,' she said -kindly, 'unless you have something better to do—with your -arms and war gear as it may be,' she added. And her way of -speaking thus of my calling as a soldier pleased me. Also in -spite of my renunciation of all pleasure in women's society, -my heart gave a great stound at her marked favour. Perhaps, -also, at the way she had in walking, which was with her head -high and her bosom set well forward in its openwork bodice -of fair linen, and all her sweet body swaying lightly to the -side as a willow wand that bends in the wind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice, the voice of Marjorie Kennedy, sounded like -the running of deep water in a linn under the dusk of trees, -with undercurrents of sobs and pitifulness in it, for all that -it was so proud. For even thus, in her youth, walking as the -fairest maid the sun shone on, Marjorie seemed ever to be -'fey,' trysted to some lot beyond that of maids who are to be -good men's wives and mothers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But enough of speaking about her and about. Better -that I should tell what she said to me as we walked up and -down, while the young buds were cracking open that -gracious May gloaming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was a good fight, I hear, and well fought,'she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Which fight may it please you to speak of, my Lady -Marjorie?' said I, making as though I had been in many.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The battle in the High Street of Edinburgh,' she made -answer, and methought smiled as she said it. But there was -no bairnly scorn or raw coltish ignorance in Marjorie's smile, -as there mostly was in the face of her sister—who was nothing -but a child at any rate, and still wore her hair without a -snood, flying daft-like about her shoulders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I told Marjorie Kennedy of all the fight, and she -listened with face turned away from me to the sea, looking -to the hills of Arran that were so blue in the distance, -so that for a space I thought she hearkened not to what I -said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in a little she interrupted me. 'And you speak thus -with admiration of Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany, he that is -an enemy to our house and name! How say ye then that -such an one is noble and worthy?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For I had been telling her of meeting him coming from -the king's palace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, noble and generous is Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany, -as well as the handsomest man that walks, with a spring to -his feet as one that goes upon the deep twigs of the pine -trees in the woods. He can twirl a lance in one hand on -horseback—for I myself have seen him—never was there -such a man!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For I had given him all my heart and admiration, being -then young—or at least not very old in years—and I wished -with all my strength that such an one had been chief of our -side and Earl of Cassillis, instead of he that was. Though -my lord is a good man also, and I deny it not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then it was that my Lady Marjorie showed me the -greatest favour that ever she showed to any man, and caused -my heart to beat high with love and hope. For she took my -hand in hers, holding it to her side as she walked—ay, and -stroked and touched it gently with her other hand as we went -along, being hidden by the screen of the leaves in the -pleasaunce hedges. Now this was so sweet to me and precious, -that I slept with my right hand in a glove of silk for many -days—ay, and even forbore to wash it. For I bethought -me that though, as a man of war, I had forsworn the society -of silly girls, yet every true knight had a lady for his heart's -mistress, whose colours he might wear in his helmet, and whose -lightest word he might treasure in his heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus we two walked and talked, while the sun was -going down and the colours of a dove's breast crept over -the water from the west.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And this Gilbert of Bargany—tell me of him—for, -being the great enemy of our house, I desire to hear more -of him,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I told her, being nothing loth to speak of so brave -an enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Was he at all hurt in the combat, think you?' she -asked again, carelessly, as one that thinks of other things.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wounded? No,' I replied, with a laugh; 'on the -contrary, he pursued us down to the ford of the Nor' Loch, -and defied us all to come back and have it out. But I -think that not he but another, had a hand in the craven's -trick of letting loose on us the offscourings of the -prisons—Highland catherans and Border hedgethieves.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And who might that other be?' she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That,' I replied, with dignity, 'I am not at liberty to -tell. It is yet a secret under trust.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell it me,' she said, bending her eyes on me, that -were beautiful as I know not what.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this, indeed, I should very gladly have done at that -moment, but truly I knew nothing of the matter. So I -made haste to answer that I would readily die for her, but -that it was a soldier's duty that he should keep the secrets -with which his honour had been entrusted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then tell me what you can,' she said, so quietly that I -was ashamed of my subterfuge. Though that is the way -that all wise men must talk to women, so as to keep the -peace, telling them (mostly) the truth, but seldom the -whole truth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was,' said I, 'the Grey Man!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' she replied, quickly drawing away her hand, and -laying it upon her heart, 'the Grey Man!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What ken ye of the Grey Man?' I asked her, in -surprise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nothing,' she said, giving me back her hand; 'I -know not why, but for the moment something came upon -me, and I felt as it had been a little faint. It is nothing. -It has already passed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I wished to bring her a cup of wine from the -house. But she laughed more merrily than ever I had -heard her, and tossed back the lace kerchief which confined -her hair, so that it lay about her white neck with the ends -dropping over her bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let us two walk here yet a space, Launcelot,' she said, -'for it is lonely within the great house.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A saying which made my heart swell with gladness and -pride, for she had never thus distinguished any man before, so -that I forgot all about my vows and about forswearing to -company with women. But this was indeed very different.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My Lady Marjorie,' I said (I much desired to say 'My -sweet lady' as they do in the stage plays, but dared not), -'My Lady Marjorie,' I said, 'I, even I, will be your true -knight, and fight for you against all, if so be that coming -home I may see the pleasure in your eyes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, will you truly?' she asked, and sighed. Then she -was silent for a moment but drew not away her hand, which -I took of be a good omen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, you must not—you must not. It would not be -fair!' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I love you with all my heart!' I whispered, trying to -reach her hand; but somehow, though it was very near, I -could not again take it in mine.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She seemed not to hear me speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' she said at last, as if to herself, 'perhaps it will -be good for the lad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could not conceive what she meant.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot,' she continued, and her voice had music in -it such as I never heard in any kirk or quire, at matins or at -laud,—'Launcelot, do not think of me, I pray you—at -least, not if you can help it—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Help it I cannot,' answered I; 'it is far beyond that!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so I thought at the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, Launcelot, my sweet squire,' she said again, 'hast -thou already forgotten thy vow? It is better for thee to be -a squire of arms than a squire of dames! At least,' she -added, smiling, 'till you win your spurs.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will win them for your sake, an you will let me, -Marjorie!' I cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Win them, then, Launcelot,' she made me answer, -suddenly breaking from her reserve, 'win them for my -sake—and see, meantime you shall wear my colours.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she undid a brooch of gold whereon were the lilies -of France, that were the badge of her house, and setting it -on the velvet collar of my coat she gave a little dainty pat -to the place where she put it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It sets you well,' she said, pushing my hair to one side -to look at me; 'two such I have. Wear you one and I shall -wear the other—for Marjorie Kennedy and the honour of -Culzean.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It sounded like a sacred oath rather than the posy of -a love-gift: '</span><em class="italics">For Marjorie Kennedy and the honour of -Culzean</em><span>!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then most humbly would I have lifted her fingers to -my lips and kissed them, not daring more; but she put -her hand on my head, for she was tall (though not as tall -as I), and bent sweetly to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The blood of all my heart fled insurgent to my ears, -deafening me, as I also stooped toward her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, not there,' she whispered, and kissed me gently on -the brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My laddie,' she said, 'be brave, true, noble, and one day -you shall know root and branch what the love of woman is.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And waving me not to follow her, she went in with her -head turned away from my sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So there for a great space I stood in the dusk of the -arbour, mazed and bewildered by the strange, undreamed-of -bliss—ennobled by the touch of her lips, ay, more than if -the King himself had laid his sword on my shoulder in the -way of accolade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then at last I moved and went in also, dragging -tardy-foot away from the sweet and memorable place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the garden gate I met Nell Kennedy, and made to -pass without seeing her. But she stood in the middle of the -way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know,' she said, pointing scornfully with her finger, -'Maidie has been talking to you behind the hedge. She -has given you the French brooch she would not give me -yesterday, though she has another.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I walked silently past her, with as great dignity -as I could command, for that is ever the best way with -forward children.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she turned and cried after me, 'I know who will -get that other.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A saying which did not trouble me, though I could not -quite forget it, for I knew well enough that it was only -Nell's spite, because her sister had not given her the golden -badge which she coveted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>High in my room in the White Tower I sat and looked -out to the sea. There I sat all night, sleepless, till the sun -rose over the woods and the chilly tops of the waves glittered. -I bethought me on all that had happened, and I remembered -with shame many things in which I had done not wisely -especially in the matter of the Grieve's lass, and my -convoying of her home through the wood. For now, with -Marjorie Kennedy's badge against my lips, all things had -become new; bitterly was I ashamed of my folly, and right -briskly did I repent of it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-laird-of-auchendrayne"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER VIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE LAIRD OF AUCHENDRAYNE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It is not to be supposed that the taking of the treasure of -Kelwood was permitted to pass without the Earl, a man -keener for red siller than any other man in Scotland, casting -about him for the reivers of the gear he had so confidently -counted his own. His old grandmother of a Countess, whom, -though a young man, he had shamefully married for her -tocher and plenishing, flustered about the house of Cassillis -like a hen dancing on a hot girdle when she heard of the -loss. It was but the other day that she had had to draw her -stocking-foot and pay down eight thousand merks, that her -man might be permitted to resign the office of High -Treasurer, lest all her gear would be wasted in making -loans to the King, who had great need of such. And so -the further loss of this treasure sat wondrously heavy on -my Lady Cassillis, as indeed it did on her husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl himself rode over to Culzean to hold council -concerning it with his uncle, the Tutor. He cherished a -wonderful affection for Sir Thomas, considering, that is, -what a selfish man he was, and how bound up in his own -interests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So after they had talked together a while, pacing up and -down in the garden (while I walked apart and pressed the -hard brooch-pin of Marjorie Kennedy's trysting favour to -my breast for comfort), they called me to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with all respect and speed I went, and stood with my -bonnet off to hear their commands. I thought that it was -some light matter of having the horses brought. But when -I came the Earl was looking keenly at me, and even Sir -Thomas paused a little while before he spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot, you are a brave lad,' he said, 'and I know -that you desire to distinguish yourself even more than you -have done, though you have shown your mettle already. -Now my lord and I have a matter which it needs a man to -perform—one of address and daring. I hear from all about -me that you are a ready man with your wits and your -tongue. Will you bear my lord's cartel of defiance to his -enemy, David Crauford of Kerse?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, my lords, that will I, and readily!' I replied, -knowing that my good fortune stood on tiptoe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am not eager,' the Earl said, breaking in upon my -reply, 'for reasons which I have given to the Tutor, to send -one of my own folk. I would rather accredit one more kin -to Culzean here, one who is a gentleman of good blood and -a brave Kennedy, such as I observed you to be on the day -of the tulzie in Edinburgh.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will serve Cassillis till I die,' I replied, making him a -little bow—because I wished him to see that, though I was -of the moorland house, I had yet manners as good as he had -brought back with him from France. Besides, I saw -Marjorie looking down upon us from the terrace, which -made me glance at my shadow as it lay clearly outlined -upon the gravel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I was glad to observe that the point of my cloak -fell with some grace over the scabbard of my sword. Now -this was not vanity, God knows, but only a just desire to -appear point device in the presence of the heads of my clan -and of the lady of my heart—which is a thing very -different. For of all things I am not vain, nor given, after -the manner of some, to talking greatly about my own -exploits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So,' said the Earl, 'you will go to David Crauford of -Kerse at his own house as my messenger. You will not -give him a written but a spoken message. And in token -that you come from us who have power to speak, you must -exhibit to him our signet rings, which we now entrust to -you to guard with your life.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, giving me the rings, which I put under my glove -upon the first finger of the left hand, he communicated to -me the cartel for the Laird of Kerse, which he made me -repeat carefully thrice over in their hearing. Then he -dismissed me to go my way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as I went, I saw the lads roistering in the garden -with the young Sheriff of Wigton, who had married their -eldest sister when she was but a lassie. And I smiled as I -thought within me, 'Had I been so born to lofty estate, I -might even have been playing at golf and pat-ball, instead -of riding on the errands of Cassillis and Culzean, with an -Earl's message in my mouth and an Earl's signet on my -finger.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I do not think that the pride was an unworthy one, -for since I had none to push my fortune for me, it was the -more necessary that I should be able to do it for myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went to get my war-horse, for after the affair of -Edinburgh, Sir Thomas had given me 'Dom Nicholas,' a -black of mettle and power, well able to carry me even had -I been clad in full armour, instead of merely riding light as -I now meant to go, with only my sword and pistolets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the seaward corner of the White Tower, going by -the way of the stables, I met my Lady Marjorie, and my -heart gave a bound at the seeing of her. She came -gravely forward to give me her hand. Yet not to kiss, -as I knew by the downward weighting of it, and by her -taking it quickly again to herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whither go you, grave man of affairs?' she said, -smiling with pleasantry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I go with an Earl's cartel and defiance,' I replied, -telling her, perhaps, more than I ought. But then she was my -lady.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie became very pale and set her hand on the stone -parapet of the sea wall where she stood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To Bargany?' she asked, breathlessly, for it was natural -she should think that the quarrel with the family had broken -out again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not to Bargany,' I said, smiling to reassure her. 'I -cannot now tell you where, but it is out of Carrick that I -ride—Carrick for a man—Kyle for a cow. I ride to the -land of sweet milk cheese!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God speed you, then,' she said. 'Take care of yourself—beware -of the dairymaids. I have heard they are dangerous.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For your sweet sake,' cried I, waving my bonnet to her -as I ran down the path.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But before I went fairly out of sight I turned and looked -back, for, indeed, I could not help it. And Marjorie was -still standing under the archway where I had left her, but -with so sad and lost a countenance that I had run back to -ask her what was her grief. Then she seemed to awake, -kissed the tips of her fingers to me, and turning her about, -walked slowly within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I was fully arrayed, I rode past the front of the -house on pretext of knowing if my lords had any further -commands for me, but really that the maids might see me -upon Dom Nicholas in his fair caparison of beaten silver. -She whom I wished most to see I saw not indeed; but -there at the great gate, with a foolish spraying branch of -hawthorn in her hair, was Nell Kennedy, of whom during -these last days I had scarcely so much as thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with her, to my burning shame and amaze, was -Kate Allison, the Grieve's daughter. The two girls stood -with their arms about one another's waists, as maids that -are yet half bairns are wont to do. But neither of them -looked at me. Only when I made Dom Nicholas caracole -by, they turned disdainfully aside as though they were -avoiding the path of some poisonous toad or asp. And so, -wholly without word, they passed down one of the leafy -avenues that beset the place of Culzean, which thing in a -moment rendered all my full, sweet cup empty and bitter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this I was much dashed and crestfallen, so that I had -no spirit in me. For I was sure, by the attitude of the -maids, and their demeanour to me, that they had gotten to -the stage of the confiding of secrets. And if that were so, I -had a good guess that it would be as well for me to avoid -the Grieve's house by the shore for some time to come. -Which thing, indeed, last evening's tryst with Marjorie had -made me resolve on before. But it was not the matter of -Kate Allison's anger that troubled me; it was rather that -the clattering minx, Nell Kennedy, would certainly tell her -sister of my past boyish affairs with the pretty young lass, -and specially of our home-coming from the March fair so -late at night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the stir of going through the town of Maybole—the -lasses running to the doors to admire, the 'prentice lads -envying and hating me, so worked on me that, for a space, -I forgot the ill-fared memory of the two maids linking down -though the greenwood together. Yet the thing came again -into my mind and stuck there, before I had o'ertaken half -the way to Dalrymple, by which I was behoved to go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I rode along I practised pulling at the wicks of my -upper lip, where I was persuaded that my moustache was -certainly beginning to grow apace. For so I had seen the -soldiers of the King's Guard do in Edinburgh, and mightily -admired them at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The way went pleasantly by, there being many folk of -all degrees and qualities on the road. And as many as saw -me come, stepped aside and stood respectfully at gaze, if -they were on foot; or courteously saluted me as an equal -if they were on horseback. Both which things pleased -me well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I went on smiling to myself for the pleasantness of my -thoughts, in spite of the incident of the lasses. Suddenly, -however, I came upon a horseman like myself, that rode down -a loaning from the muirside. I saw no weapon that he had -about him, yet he was no mere landward minister or merchant, -by the sober richness of his habit. He was dressed in fine -cloth of Flemish blue, with a plain edging of silk, but without -lace or any broidery. His face, when I saw it, was pleasant, -and there was on it a smile that spoke of good cheer. He -seemed to be tall of his person, and, from the manner in -which he reined his horse easily with his left hand, I knew -him to be strong. A well-appearing, sober, conditionable -man of fifty I should have taken him to be, fit to be head of -a house or to sit at a king's council table.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his occupation was the strange part of his sudden -appearing. He was employed in reading a little book which -he held in his right hand, riding easily all the while with -his horse at a brisk walk—a thing which I never saw anyone -do before. Then was I sure that he was a man of religion, -by his busying himself thus with his devotions. At which -I was the better pleased, since religion is a thing I was ever -taught to reverence above all else, for that is the habit of -the moorland folk who get but little of it. On the other -hand, they tell me that in Edinburgh, where there are as -many as seven ministers, the folk pay little heed to their -privileges; and are, as indeed I have seen, given over to -following all manner of wickedness and that with greediness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As my fellow-traveller came down the loaning he looked -up, and seeing me, he wheeled his horse alongside of mine, -and very courteously gave me 'Good-day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as well he might, he admired Dom Nicholas, -letting his eyes stray smilingly over my equipage. Yet -even at that moment I marked that it was a set smile, and -methought that there was a busy brain behind it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You ride like a soldier that hath seen the wars, young -sir,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' I replied, lifting my bonnet of steel as to an elder, -'but little enough of these, my Lord, for I am but a youth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You will mend of that last, I warrant,' said my companion, -'and in the end more swiftly than you will care about.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You were busy with your book of devotion,' said I, -with respect, for I care not to force my conversation on -any man; 'let me not interrupt.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' he said, 'I fear I am no great churchman, -though for my servants' sake I have reading and worship -daily in my own house, and generally I may claim to be -very well affected toward the Almighty.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are there no churches in your part of the country,' I -asked him, 'for I perceive by your habit you are not a -hereaway man?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There are indeed kirks there, but I cannot bide to be -hampered and taken in a snare within walls, in the present -unsettled state of the country. A peaceable man does well to -worship in the open. What sense is there in being shut -weaponless in a kirk, and shot at through the windows, -as happened not long ago?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I asked how that could be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have you not heard how in the north country the -Craufords beset the Kennedies in Dalrymple Kirk, taking -them at an advantage without their weapons of war—so -that a Kennedy now goes no oftener to kirk than the -twenty-ninth of February comes into the calender.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How strange it befalls in a small world,' said I, laughing, -'for I am a Kennedy, and I ride to visit the Craufords of -Kerse.' Then he looked at me more closely than ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My name,' he said courteously, 'is John Mure of -Auchendrayne.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I told him my name and style, and also the knight's -name to whom I was squire, for after his giving me his own -I could not do less.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You have been in Edinburgh lately?' he said. 'And -I doubt not, by your looks, bore yourself well in the sad broil -in the High Street. Indeed, I think that I heard as much. -Though being a man of good age, and one that is of quiet -ways, I neither make nor mell with such tulzies, which are -for young, lusty folk at any rate.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a little riding in silence and thought, he asked me -if I had ever spoken to Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany, and it -was with a loath heart that I answered 'No.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he spoke long of him and his noble prowess, comparing -him to the Earl of Cassillis, to his great advantage—which -I grant it was easy enough to do. But since I could not wear -a man's signet ring on my finger and deny him even by my -silence, I spoke up for my colours. And that is good enough -religion, as I read it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am Cassillis man,' said I, with my hand on my sword, -'and I care not who knows it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush you, young sir,' replied the Laird of Auchendrayne, -soothingly, 'mind that you are now in an enemy's country. -I warrant that Currie of Kelwood has travelled this road -not so long before you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am not one who cares whether folk know my opinions,' -I cried. 'See, I wear them on my collar. And I have on -my finger a double safe-conduct.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereupon I let him see the rings, drawing off my -gauntlet that I might show him the signets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he redoubled his respect and rode nearer to me, -which made me glad that I had showed him the seals with -their crests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are young to ride so far alone on such great folk's -business,' he said softly. 'Even I, that am old and sober, -am not so trusted.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Laird Auchendrayne,' I replied to him, 'you do jest with -me because of my youth. For you yourself are of the great -ones, their kinsman and equal at muster and council-board, -and but lately, in the Earl's absence, Bailzie of Carrick!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he went on to speak of the Earl, mocking at him -as one greedy-tooth for land and siller like his father, and -warning me that when he had done with me he would cast -me off without fee or reward, like an old glove.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, worse,' said he, 'for he will save the worn glove -to sell over again to Granny Nish of the Luckenbooths.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Light-hand or luck-penny,' said I, 'Launcelot Kennedy -is not the man to change his colours for goods or gear.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And who bids you?' said he. 'Tush, man! you are -at the horn and outlaw. Any man may take your life and -be the freer for it. The sneckdraw Cassillis and the old wife -Culzean are not fit mettle for a gallant like you to ride -beside. Hear ye, man; I will tell you a secret which none -knoweth yet, but which, if you are wise and bold, will make -your fortune with the King. Bargany is to marry one of -the Queen's bower-maidens—one too that carries the King's -name—</span><em class="italics">and he is to have the Earldom of Carrick</em><span>!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here he hushed his voice and leaned towards me, setting -his hand on the arch of Dom Nicholas's neck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And that,' he whispered,' will mean knighthood and an -estate—besides a fair maid with a tocher, to every good man -that can draw a sword and lead a company. What think -ye of that? Be not hasty, man. I tell you Bargany will -crumple up Cassillis as I crumple this bit of paper.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And he threw a crushed sheet of writing into Doon -Water as we rode beside it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I faced about upon him, and set myself very straight -in the saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sir,' I said, 'you are an older man, a richer man, a -better learned man than I. But let me tell you, sir, that I -am an honester man than you; and maybe I shall win -though none the worse of that at the long and last. But if -what I have said offend you, I am willing to give satisfaction -on horse or foot, now or again, either to you or to any younger -man of your name. I bid you good-day, sir, for I count you -not good company for leal gentlemen.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that I turned my back on him, and rode on -my way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go your own gate,' he said, rather regretfully than -angrily. 'You have thrown away a kindly offer for an old -song and a sounding phrase. You are a mettle lad, but with -much wind in your belly.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I rode on, thinking that I had done with him—which -was very far indeed from being the case.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="cartel-of-contumely"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER IX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">CARTEL OF CONTUMELY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now, the place where I took my leave of that pleasant, -reputable treason-breeder, John Mure of Auchendrayne, was -within a quarter of a mile of Dalrymple Bridge, where it -strides across Doon Water. I am persuaded that when I -left him a little behind, I saw him heave up his hand, for -I got just a waft of it with the tail of my eye. Yet though -I could not swear it conscience-clear in any court in the land -(unless absolute need were), I am still persuaded in my mind, -as much as I was then, that the douce and gracious man -intended that I should fall into an ambush, if I proved overly -hard-bitten for his projects and temptings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So as I came near to the bridge-end, I looked very warily -about, and methought that I spied the black muzzle of a -hackbutt, where there was no need of such like. Now -hackbutts do not, even in Carrick, grow on hedges, though -in these days a man might somewhat easily make the mistake -of thinking so. I judged, therefore, that there would be an -ugly face behind the gun, and a finger on the slow match -that intended me no good.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I paused, turning about on my saddle, I saw a fellow -rise out of the copse-wood before me, and run like a rabbit -to the bridge-end. That was enough for me. Fighting is -well enough, and I can be doing with it, for it is the path -of glory and of fortune. But black treachery I cannot -stomach.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So being mightily angry, but resolved like steel to show -John Mure and his butchers that I despised them, I turned -Dom Nicholas's head and set him straight at the deeps of -Doon Water, where ford there was none. In a moment we -were splashing in the pool, and in another Dom Nicholas -had thrown back his head and taken to the swimming like -a duck. It was but a little way across, but far enough for -me, for I saw the fellows running along the bank from -the end of the bridge, blowing on their matches and bidding -me stop. Now that was not a likely thing for me to do, -being, praise the Lord! in my sober senses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when I got to the other shore, and set my horse to -climb the steep (which was by a mill on the waterside), I -was somewhat dashed to find one sitting quiet on his horse, -within ten paces of me, with his fingers on his sword and -his pistol bended in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I apprehended in a moment that this must be James -Mure the younger of Auchendrayne, and I thought that I -was as good as dead. Yet I held up my hand and cried, -'Herald!' and 'Safe-Conduct!' Though I knew that -with such men as the Mures I might just as well and -usefully have cried 'Bubbly Jock!' or 'Pigeon Pie!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The young man in war-gear who sat his horse above -me, did not move nor lift his weapon to fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell me,' he said calmly, 'who may you be that cries -"Safe-Conduct!" and "Herald!" on the lands of Kerse?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I answered him that I was Launcelot Kennedy—and to -effectuate something with him I added 'of Kirrieoch.' For -I thought it was unlikely that he would know the hill -country well enough to remember that my father was -still alive. Which I take to have been an innocent enough -deception, in that it hurt no one.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in this I was right, for he answered at once,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am David Crauford the younger of Kerse, but what -said you of safe-conducts?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I showed him the rings, and told him that my -business lay by word of mouth with his father. Thereafter -I laid before him the matter of the scoundrels running at me -nigh to Dalrymple bridge. Indeed, we could even then -see them retiring in a group.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let us ride to the bridge head now, and see if they -will molest us?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this we did, but none stirred nor showed themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So,' he said, 'let us ride on to Kerse.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we went our way we had much excellent discourse -of the news of the countryside, and also of Edinburgh and -its customs. I found David Crauford a fine and brave -fellow, and regretted heartily that he was not on our side -of the blanket—a thing which, indeed, I was too apt to do. -I considered it an unfair thing that all the shavelings should -be ours, and all the paladins theirs. Yet I was comforted -by the thought that it was easier to be distinguished among -the men of Cassillis than with Bargany—for in the kingdom -of the blind the one-eyed man is king, as the saw hath it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus we came at last to the place of Kerse. It was a -handsome tower, with additions that made it almost a castle, -standing upon a rising ground by a loch, and overlooked at -a safe distance by some high rocks and scaurs, which David -Crauford told me were called the Craigs of Kyle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the slowest time of the afternoon when we arrived -at the ancient strength, and David, saying that his father -might not be wakeful, slipped on ahead, in order to assure -me a proper reception—so, at least, he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at the doorway I was met by many men-at-arms, -with pikes in their hands and feathers in their bonnets. And -there came forth to meet me eight of the twelve brothers of -Kerse, all bareheaded and with swords at their sides. In -the background I could see the cause of my adventuring -Currie, the Laird of Kelwood—bowing and smirking like -a French dancing-master. But I never so much as looked -his way.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'From whom come you, and in peace or war?' said -David Crauford, just as though I had not told him—which -was quite right and proper, for these commissions of diplomacy -should be carried out with decorum and observance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I come,' said I, 'from the Earl and also from the Tutor -of Cassillis, and am commissioned to speak with the Laird -of Kerse in their name and on their behalf.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With that I was conducted through a lesser into a -greater hall, at the upper end of which was a raised -platform, two feet or so above the floor. The hall and dais -were alike strewed with yellow bent grass, such as grows -upon the sides of the hills and on the seashore. On the -dais stood a great oaken chair with a hood about it, and in -it there sat the noblest old man that ever I saw. He seemed -by his beard and hair to be ninety years of age at the least, -yet his natural colour was in his cheek, and he was gleg -both to hear and to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they introduced me, and I went up to the old man -of Kerse to show my credentials, bending my knee, but not -near to the ground, in token of courtesy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come hither, David, and tell me what are the posies -on the rings.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So David came near, and, looking at my hand, he read -that motto of the Earl of Cassillis—'</span><em class="italics">Avise a fin</em><span>!' it read.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, ay, that will do. Let the lad speak his message,' -said the old man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then in the midst of three-score Craufords I set myself, -with my shoulders squared and my hand on my hip, to speak -the message of my lord. I do not deny that I liked the -job well enough, for it was the sort which enables a man -to make a figure—thus to stand alone among a host of -enemies, and speak a challenge of defiance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Master David Crauford, Laird of Kerse and Skeldon,' -said I, giving out his titles like a herald, 'I bear you greeting -and worship from John, Earl of Cassillis, and Sir Thomas -Kennedy of Culzean, Tutor of that ilk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man bowed in token of respect for the formal -courtesy. 'My principals bid me say that they request and -demand as their right, that you shall deliver up to them the -Laird of Kelwood, their liege vassal, presently rebel and -fugitive; and also that you render back the box of treasure -and the stones of price which they have good reason to -believe their vassal aforesaid hath concealed with you. These -things being done, they assure you of their friendship and -support in all your undertakings.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I gave it out clearly, formally, dispassionately, and -without heat, as one that is accustomed to high commissions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I spoke I saw the old man grip his staff as though it -had been a sword, and ere I had done, he had half risen from -his seat as though he would have struck me to the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you dare, you beardless birkie, to bring such a -message to Crauford of Kerse, in his own hall and among -his own folk?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I stood still with my hand on my side as before, -looking at him with a level brow, knowing that without a -weapon in my hand, and with a double safe-conduct on my -finger, I had by far the best of it, ay, though there had -been a thousand Craufords in the hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Father, father,' said David from behind, as one accustomed -to soothe the old man's anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I ken—I ken bravely. The laddie has to bring his -message, but Scraping Johnny of Cassillis shall rue this day. -Tell him,' he cried, his voice rising to a wild scream, 'that -I have seen no doit of the dirty money which he howks out -of every dub with his swine's snout. The Laird of Kelwood -indeed, I have with me, and here he shall bide while it likes -him—not for his own sake, for he is small credit either to Kennedy -or Crauford (to his face I say it), but because Kerse is an -eagle sitting on high, and it has not yet come to it that he -must, forsooth, throw down so much as a well-pyked bone -at the bidding of Cassillis.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I bowed to the ground as having gotten my answer. -But I had another part of the piece still to play, and the doing -of it liked me even better, for I saw that this time I should -anger not only the old man but the young.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then,' said I, 'in the name of John, Earl of Cassillis, -whom ye call swine's snout, I am charged to tell you that -if ye will not deliver the man and the thing that are his just -right, then will my master come and gar ye be fain to -deliver them—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there went a murmur of scorn and anger all about -the hall, and the white locks of the old man fairly bristled on -his head. But I spoke on, level as a clerk that reads his -lessons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hearken ye to the word of Cassillis—the last word—gin -ye refuse he will come on Lammas day proximate, and -in token of ignominy and despite, he will tether a brood -sow upon the lands of Kerse, and not a Crauford shall steer -her for the length of a summer's day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a shout of anger went up from about the hall! -The blades of the young men fairly blazed from their sheaths. -The old man rose in his chair and lifted his staff by the -middle. Two tall servitors that stood at the back of the -hall, lighting the dusk with torches, sprang forward -ready to catch him should his strength fail. There were -at least thirty swords pointed at my breast, and one great -lout threatened me with a Lochaber axe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But with my heart swelling I stood still and calm amid -the graceless tumult, like one of the carven stones which -look out from the niches of Crossraguel. Motionless I -stood as I had done from the first, for I was a herald with -an Earl's message.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An insult! an insult! an insult in the hall of Kerse. -Kill the black Kennedy!' they cried, gnashing on me with -their teeth like wild beasts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I declare I never was happier in my life, knowing that -I had made that day a figure which would not be forgotten, -and that my bearing among them would be spoken of over all -Carrick and Kyle. How I wished that Marjorie Kennedy -could have seen me. And I smiled as I thought how little it -mattered after this, whether or no Nell Kennedy turned -tale-pyet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will take the smile off his black Kennedy's face with -a paik of this Lochaber axe!' cried my great lout. But -indeed I smiled not at him nor any of his sept, but at the -thought of Nell Kennedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then when they had roared themselves out in anger, -they became, as I take it, some deal ashamed of the hideous -uproar, and of a sudden were silent—as with a stave thrust -in the joint and a twist of the wrist one may shut off a noisy -mill-lade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I got in my last word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thereafter, John, Earl of Cassillis, bids me say that he -will leave not one standing stone in the house of Kerse -upon another, for the despite and contempt done to him as -its overlord.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the loud anger gave place to silent, deadly hate, -and it was some time before any could speak. David the -younger would have spoken, but his father waved him down, -fighting for utterance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hear ye, sir, and bear this message and defiance to -your master. He has put a shame on us in this our own -house. Tell him that he may bring his swine to Kerse -every Lammas day, and fetch with him every swineherd -Kennedy from every midden-head betwixt Cassillis and the -Inch. There are plenty stout Craufords here in Kyle that -can flit them. Ay, though this hand, that was once as the -axe-hand of the Bruce, be shrunken now, and though I lean -on these bearers of torches because of mine age, tell him -that there are twelve stout sons behind me who can render -taunt for taunt, blow for blow, to King or Kennedy. And -tell him that Crauford of Kerse knows no overlord in -earth or heaven—least of all John Kennedy, fifth Earl of -Cassillis!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I bowed as one might before some of the glorious -pagan gods of whom Dominie Mure has tales to tell. For, -indeed, that was an answer worth taking back, and, being -a man, I know a man when it is given me to see him. -So, with my face to him still, and my bonnet in my -hand, I made my way off the dais. There I turned -me about, and, as an Earl's spokesman should, set my steel -bonnet on my head to go out alone through the crowded -hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the old man stayed me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot Kennedy of Kirrieoch,' he said, courteously, -'to you and not to your master, I say this. Ye have well -delivered an ill message. May ye never get your fill of -fighting, and at the last may you die in harness. I would -to God ye were my thirteenth son!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I bowed again, and for respect I walked backwards -to the door of the great hall with my head again -bare. Then I helmed myself and passed without to Dom -Nicholas.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was now a full muster of Craufords in the -courtyard—a hundred of them, I should say, at least. But -no murmur arose among them as, helped by a groom, I -mounted and moved slowly through the throng, having -saluted David the younger and his brothers with my -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as I rode through the gateway, the feet of Dom -Nicholas clattering on the stones, I was aware of a troop of -twelve that followed me, all well-accoutred men riding in -order. And I knew the author of that guard. It was David, -who had resolved to see me safe across Dalrymple bridge, -and so gave me the attendance of a prince.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then knew I how excellent a thing it is to have to -do in peace or war with gentlemen. For to do them -justice, the Craufords of Kerse were neither landloupers -nor ambuscaders.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sir-thomas-of-the-top-knot"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER X</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">SIR THOMAS OF THE TOP-KNOT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>My guard of honour did not leave me till I was within -sight of the towers of Cassillis, when David Crauford and -his men parted from me with silent salute. Nor had the -dyke-back hiding gentry so much as ventured to show their -faces. So I rode down to Cassillis yett, a well-kenned place -and famous in story. Down a smooth, green mead I rode to -it. At the gate the porter, a surly rogue, bade me stand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Stand thou, hang thee, pock-faced varlet!' I cried; -'haste thee and up with the gates, or thine ass's ears shall -answer for it, nailed incontinent to a post!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereupon, seeing him wondering and still wavering, -I drew off my glove and flashed the Earl's broad signet ring -at him. I declare he laid hold of the pulley like one -demented.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I trust, noble sir, that ye will not mention the matter -of my hasty greeting to my lord,' he said to me as I passed, -for the rascal was shaking in every limb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let it learn you to be better scraped as to the tongue -for the time to come,' I answered sharply, for I was none -sorry once for all to read the villain a lesson. There is -nothing better than a man who worthily and for his office's -sake magnifies his office, but there is nothing more scunnering -than that a menial knave, in pride of place, should beard -his betters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the hall of Cassillis, while I waited for my lord, I -met the old man of strange aspect, who had been with us -upon the Red Moss. He was dressed in a long, lank robe -like a soutane, and he carried a book with him, very filthy -and tattered. In this he read, or pretended to read, by whiles, -muttering and mumbling the words over to himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing me stand alone, he came over and began to speak -to me about matters that I knew not of—something that -concerned the Black Vault of Dunure, so I understood him -to say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But his appearance as he talked caused me to laugh, -though, being an old man, I did not let him see it. His -head appeared as bald all about as is a hen's egg. But on -the very crown there was an oval place of a hand's breadth -or thereby, from which dropped a crest of yellow-white hair, -very laughable and ludicrous. For as the old man talked -the silly cockscomb on his crown waggled, and being toothless -his jaw waggled also. So that the nut-cracker jaw underneath -and the waggling plume aloft might well have made a -cat laugh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am Sir Thomas Tode,' he mumbled, when I began -to get a little familiar with his shambling speech—'ay me, -Sir Thomas Tode' (he pronounced the word as though it -had been the name of the foul beast that squats on its -belly), 'the famous Sir Thomas Tode am I. Ay, dear -mother Mary—I mean Christian friends, but a feck of life -it has been my lot to see.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought within me what a strange old scare-the-crows -this was, to have the name and style of knighthood. So I -asked him what were his ancestral possessions.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am only poor Sir Thomas Tode, chaplain to two mighty -Earls,' he said, shaking his head and waggling his top-knot, -till he looked more like the father of all the apes that ever -were, than a sober cleric.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Even so,' he went on, 'I was bred to Holy Church—I -mean brought up in ignorance, to serve the Whore that -sitteth on the Seven Hills. I was chaplain to the old Lord -Gilbert, the father of the Earl John that is. Ah, many a -time did I shrive him soundly, and none needed it more. -Faith, but he was a ripe, crusted old sinner—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Sir Thomas Tode chuckled a senile laugh at his -memories of the bygone wickednesses of the great.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Faith, I doubt shrewdly that he fries for it now. For -in these days there are no prayers to hoist men out of -purgatory by the telling down of the good broad bonnet -pieces—more's the pity for poor honest churchmen! Ah -me, the times that were! The times that were!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man paused a moment to think the matter over, -and then very visibly his mind went wandering after some -greater and yet choicer wickedness which he might retail -to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have you ever heard,' he said at last, 'of the roasting -of the Abbot of Crossraguel? Man, I was there—yes, I -was there—Tom Tode was there, and turned him on the -iron brander till I burned my fingers!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the ancient rascal beat merrily on the floor with -his stick and charked together his toothless gums.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now sit ye down, and I shall tell you all that took -place in the Black Vaut of Dunure—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just then I saw a sonsy, red-faced woman, ample of -bosom and with many plies of wylicoats pleated and gathered -about her, rise from the black stair head—even as Dominie -Mure fables that Venus (a heathen goddess, but one of -whose ongoings I own it diverts me greatly to hear) did -from the sea. With three strides she came across the hall -and caught Sir Thomas Tode by the shock of yellow-white -hair on his crown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be you at it again?' she cried. 'I will give you your -fill of the Black Vaut of Dunure, doddering old bletherer -that ye are. Who is to turn my spit, I would have you tell -me, gin you waste your time yammering to wanchancy -lazybones of the Black Vaut of Dunure? "Black Vaut of -Dunure" indeed! You have told your lies till I declare you -grow to believe them yourself!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So without a word of protest from the knightly lips of -Sir Thomas Tode, he was led below, his head nodding and -bowing as his captor shook the yellow top-knot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After the pair were gone, I laughed both loud and long, -so that they had to fetch me nigh on a gallon of strong ale -to recover me of my access of mirth, and prepare me for the -presence of the Earl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And right certainly did I vow within my heart, that it -would not be long before I renewed acquaintance with Sir -Thomas and his tyrant, for it seemed a strange and merry -thing to sec an Earl's chaplain so used. It was, indeed, -many a day since I had seen such sport.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last I was led in to the Earl. He sat in a rich -dressing-robe, flowered with gold, and a leather-bound book with -knobs and studs of brass lay open beside him. It was the -account book of his estates and overlordships.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What was that loud mirth I heard a moment since?' -he asked, for the Earl John did not seem to be in the best -of tempers. Indeed he was said never to be canny to come -near, when he was in the same house as his wife, a thing -passing strange and but not wholly without precedent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I answered that I laughed at a good story of Sir Thomas -Tode, his private chaplain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My what!' he cried. 'Oh, ye mean old Tode of -the Top-knot! Was his story about the Black Vault of -Dunure?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And without stopping for an answer he went on with -one of his proverbs, just as though he had not sent me on -an errand, and that in peril of my life. I never met a young -man so broadened on wiseacre saws and proverbs in my life. -It was clean ridiculous, though well enough in a gap-toothed -grandfather, no doubt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The loud laughter of the idle gathereth no gear,' said -Earl John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' replied I, 'but since it cheers the heart, it costs -less than your good strong ale.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, but,' he said, breaking in and looking pleased, -'but you have had some deal of that too. I can smell it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he looked briskly up, as if delighted with himself -for his penetration, and catching me with my hand held -guiltily before my mouth, he smiled.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' he said, 'can you not come to the point—why -stand so long agape? What of your mission?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, being nothing loath, I told him the whole matter, -much as I have related it in this place. And though at the -beginning he sat calmly enough to listen, long before I -had finished he was striding up and down the room -gripping at his thigh, where for common he wore his -sword—for, after all, Earl John was a true Cassillis, and -neither craven nor hen-hearted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And they roared upon you, standing still. Nay, you did -well! I wish it had been I! Man, I will give you the horse -you rode upon, and all the caparison. I declare I will!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For which I thanked him in words; but in my heart I -said, 'It is an easy present to give that which is your uncle's, -and hath indeed been mine for weeks.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he seemed to remember, for he said, 'But give me -back my signet. Ye have done well, and on Lammas day -ye shall do better. Will ye take a ring or a sword for a -keepsake?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment only I divided my mind. A ring, if good, -would indeed buy many swords. But Cassillis was not the -man to give a ring of price. Contrariwise a sword was a -thing that all men had good skill of, and for very shame's -sake a good sword would he give.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I crave a sword,' said I, briefly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye have chosen like a soldier. I shall not grudge you -the wale of swords,' the Earl made reply, smiling upon me, -well pleased.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with that he went out into the armoury, and came -back with the noblest sword I had ever seen. Blade, hilt, -and scabbard were all inlaid with scrolled Damascus work of -gold, thin limned and delicate—I never saw the like. And -my blood leaped within me—I declare to my shame, nigh -as hotly as it did when Marjorie Kennedy kissed me on -the brow in the arbour of the pleasaunce at the house of -Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Buckle it on, and take it with you,' said the Earl, 'lest -looking long upon it my heart should smite me, and I want -it back again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I thanked him and presently was gone without great -ceremony, lest, indeed, it should be so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Stay the night at Cassillis,' he cried after me. 'I have -a letter to send to my eame the Tutor in the morning.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="sword-and-spit"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">SWORD AND SPIT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The house of Cassillis is not a great place for size, to be so -famous. But the Earl has many castles, to which he goes -oftentimes—specially to the grand house of the new style -which he is building at the Inch, and from which he means -to assert his overlordship of the Lairds of Galloway, -which, as I see it, is likely to breed him trouble—more than -if he had stayed here at home and flairdied his old gammer -mistress into good humour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, leaving his presence, I went to see that Dom -Nicholas had the best of food and bedding, passing through -the grooms and men-at-arms in the bravery of my Damascus -sword, walking carelessly as though I wore suchlike every -day—a thing I liked well to do. I also made them change -the straw for better, though, indeed, there was little to find -fault with. But it is always best when one goes first into -the stables of the great to speak loud, to cry, 'Here, sirrah, -what means this?' And then order fresh bedding to be -brought, and that instantly. Thus I made myself respected, -and so walked out, while the grooms bowed, pulling the while -at my moustache and pressing upon the hilt of my sword, so -that the point stood out at the proper angle behind with my -cloak a-droop over it, as I have said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, on my way back to the house, I must needs pass—or -so I made it appear—through the kitchens, where I found my -tyrant Venus-of-the-fiery-face in the act of cooking the -supper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Seeing me lean against the baking board, dressed so -</span><em class="italics">cap-à-pie</em><span>, she came and brushed me a place to sit upon. Then -she asked, 'Would I be pleased to drink a cup of sack—rare -and old?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, seeing her set on it, I denied her not; but sat down, -unbuckling my weapon for ease's sake, and throwing it down -with clank of blade and jingle of buckle on the clear-scoured -boards of the great deal table in the midst. The Lord forgive -me for caring so mightily about these things and so little for -going to church! Some good day, doubtless, I shall change -about. And in the meanwhile, what would you?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Were you that chance to read never eighteen and thought -you not well of yourself, having a new sword? If not, the -Lord pity you. It is little ye ken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all the while I longed to hear more of Sir Thomas -Tode, and if it might be, to see him. So I asked of the lady of -the pans where her husband was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She set her thumb over her shoulder, pointing to a narrow -door as of an aumrie or wall press.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is in there,' she said shortly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what else is there in there?' said I, laughing, for -what was I the wiser?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Half a bullock is in there,' she said, laughing also. -'That is the meat-cupboard. It is fine and caller, and he is -not troubled with flies upon his miserable bald head.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The meat-safe,' cried I, much astonished; 'and what -does a reverend chaplain and a knight in the meat-safe?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The old dotard will not quit his maundering about -the Black Vaut of Dunure to every one that comes near. -He got hold of a silly chapman in the yard that came with -fish from Ayr, and I declare he must sit down and prate by -the hour of the Black Vaut of Dunure. So I shut him up -in the meat-safe. Faith, I will give him Black Vaut of -Dunure ere I have done with him. The Black Vaut of -Cassillis and the company of the dinner roast will set him -better.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what says my lord to your using his chaplain so?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The lady gazed at me a moment in a kind of wilderment. -Then she broke into the vulgar speech of the -country, which, because I learned to write English as -those at the Queen's Court do, I have used but seldom -in this chronicle—though, of course, not for lack of -knowledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sain me,' she said, 'this may be a queer, uncanny world, -but it is surely no come to that o't yet, that a wife mauna -check and chastise her ain man. Guid Lord, no—life -wadna be worth leevin'—see till this—' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And taking a key from her pocket she rapidly unlocked -the door of the meat-closet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sir Thomas was discovered sitting most forlornly within, -upon the corner of a great chest, with many pieces of meat -depending from hooks about his head. His wife, reaching -in from the step, took him by the top-knot of hair as by -a handle, and pulled him out upon the floor of the kitchen -with one movement of her arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It's a guid's mercy,' she cried, 'that yince ye war a -papish monk wi' a shaven crown, for the place that ye -keepit bare sae lang has ripened late, after a' the lave o' -the crap has been blawn awa' wi' the wind.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had been endeavouring to explain to myself the strangeness -of the wisp upon Sir Thomas's head, but the words of -his wife made clear the matter. It was but the retarded -growth of his long fallow tonsure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'An' it's a de'il o' a queer thing,' said Mistress Tode, -'that turning your coat ootside in should turn your hair -inside oot! Heard ye ever the mak' o' that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was all owing to—' began Sir Thomas Tode, looking -at his wife with a cringing shamefacedness that was -most entertaining.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I ken,' interrupted his wife, 'it was owing to the -Black Vaut o' Dunure, nae doot! I declare I canna haud -ye aff it. I jaloose that it maun hae been owing to the -Black Vaut o' Dunure that Mary Greg, a decent cook -woman and a deacon in her trade, took up wi' the likes o' -you—that mak's yoursel' nae better than a mountibank wi' -your yammer-yammering like a corn-crake aboot black -vauts and roasted abbots. Fegs, I declare I could roast ye -yoursel'. Ye are that muckle thocht and care to me, but -ye wadna pay for the trouble. Even the Earl himsel' -couldna mak' a profit oot o' you—an' a' folk kens that he -wad drive a flea to London market for the sake o' the -horns and hide!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wheesht, wheesht, honest woman!' said Sir Thomas -Tode, 'wha kens wha may be listenin'—maybe the Countess -her very sel'.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Faith, an' I carena,' cried the brave cook, tossing her -head, 'she is a backstairs body at ony gate, but she canna -fear me—na, brawly no'. I ken ower muckle. I ken -things the Earl doesna ken. Certes an' serve him richt—a -young man like him—but three-an'-twenty, to mairry his -grandmither. Though guid kens Mary Greg is no the -woman to speak, that mairried nocht better than an auld -skeleton hung on strings—for nae sounder reason than that -it is the custom for the cook in a decent big hoose to tak' -up wi' the chaplain.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The kitchen began to fill, and I bethought me that I -should be going; for it was not seemly that a gentleman -and a squire should collogue overly long with all the orra -serving-men and women in a great house. But before I -could lift my sword and depart, there came in a dark, burly -man with a sharp-cleft eagle's face on him, his eyes very -close together, and a contemptuous sneer that was liker a -snarl, on his face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good e'en to ye, John Dick,' said the cook. 'Mind -ye keep the peace, ye wull-cat, for there are to be no -collieshangies in my kitchen!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A voice called something querulously down the stairs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Coming the noo, my leddy,' cried Mrs Tode, the cook -of Cassillis, 'I am juist pittin' on the pot—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she vanished up the stair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As soon as she was gone, Sir Thomas appeared to wake -up from a dream. He looked eagerly around him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She will no be back for a while,' he said. 'I might -have a chance. I maun tell you of the roasting of the -abbot. Man, I saw it—I was there. I held him on the -ribs o' the grate. I set him on the brander, and poured the -oil on him that he might be roasted in sop. Oh, man, ye -think I am a fool. Ever since that day, never hae I been -alone without seeing the face o' him, crying out for them -to ding whingers into him, or blaw him up wi' powder to -ease him—the auld Earl girnin' at him like a wild cat, and -hunkering low to watch, with his hands on his knees. Oh, -young men, never you put your hand to the torture of -man, for it bides with you in the brain—just as, asleep or -awake, night or day, I see the Black Vaut o' Dunure!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good life,' cried his wife, entering briskly at the -moment, 'is it possible that the auld fule is at it again? -The very de'il's in the craitur. He thinks that he was at the -roastin' o' a man, whan a' the roastin' he has done in his -life has been turnin' the spit in this decent hoose o' Cassillis. -Come awa', ye doitered auld loon, what did I tell ye the -last time?—Into the keepin' chamber wi' you!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she caught him by the top lock to lead him away -once more. But I pled for him, saying that I had never -heard of his fantasy, and had indeed encouraged him to -begin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The tall man who had been called John Dick, the -fellow of the hateful countenance, in whose eyes there was -the insolence of challenge, at this point stalked up to the -table on which my sword still lay. He took it in his hand -with a contemptuous air, examined the Damascus work of -fine gold, and was about to draw the blade from its sheath.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That sword is mine,' said I, scarcely looking at the -fellow, 'and does not leave its scabbard save when I draw it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And then,' quoth he, with a bitter sneer, 'I opine it -will not do much damage. 'Tis but a bairn's plaik at any -rate! And in fit hands!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It may be that you would like to try, sirrah,' said I, -slipping my hip off the table and buckling on my sword -with one movement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Very willingly,' said he of the sneer. 'Come out to -the green.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But before I could move to end the matter, there arose -from the corner, where he had been lying on an oaken settle, -a tall, slender lad of foreign aspect and distinction. He had -on him a green suit like the Royal hunting liveries. A long, -plain sword in a black leather scabbard swung by his side.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot Kennedy of Kirrieoch,' he said, bowing to me, -'I am Robert Harburgh, and though for the time being I -serve here as little better than a cullion, I am yet of some -blood and kindred. Therefore I shall do you no shame. -And you, sir,' said he, turning to John Dick, who stood -lowering, 'being your equal here, I can serve your turn to -cross swords with—and spare this gentleman the discomfort -of defiling his sword of honour with such black ignoble -blood as yours.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that he whipped out a long, straight sword -which glittered in the firelight. John Dick turned up his -lip wickedly, so that we saw his teeth, and the black, curly -fringe of hair about his face stood out, till his visage was like -that of an angry ramping bull of Galloway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were only men in the kitchen when the fracas -arose, for Mistress Tode had gone to do some errand for -the Countess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are surely a stark man,' said John Dick, 'to mell -or meddle with me. Ken ye that I have wounded more -men with my whinger than I have fingers on my right hand?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And how many may that be?' said the young man -who had espoused my cause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, four,' said John Dick, surprised at the question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then in a little while you shall have one less—and -that is but three. Guard yourself!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And there in the red dusk of the kitchen they cleared -themselves for fighting, and their blades met with so stern -a clash that sparks were driven from the steel. But -Harburgh, my young and melancholy Dane, forced the -fighting from the first, driving Dick before him round the -narrow and enclosed place, countering and attacking with -such dexterity and fury as I had never seen, though for -years I myself had been a sound swordsman. But such fighting -as this I saw not—no, not in the schools which the King -has set up in Edinburgh to be used instead of golf and siclike -foolish games, which the men of the east country love to -play in their idle folly and wantonness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had not gone far when my champion, using a -snicking undercut I had never seen, severed the little finger -of his opponent, at the second joint just where it overlaid the -hilt, so that the tip of it fell on the floor. Whereat Sir -Thomas Tode lifted it and wrapped it with care in two sheets -of clean scrivening paper which he took from his pocket.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But John Dick, who after all was a man, though a -crab-grained and ill-conditioned one, only called a halt for a -moment and wrapped his wounded finger in a napkin, drawing -the cincture close with cord. And he was in the act of -continuing the fight, and pressing his adversary for revenge, -being resolved to kill him for the affront, when, with a loud -outcry, Mistress Tode rushed down the stairs. She seized -a huge spit, and with the sharpened end so briskly attacked -both the combatants, battering them soundly about their -heads, that they were compelled to desist.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was most comical to see these fierce and confident -fighters drop their swords' points and shield their -heads with their hands to ward off the blows of the -stick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Varlets!' she screamed. 'Briskly I will learn you to fight -and tulzie in my kitchen. Out with you,' she cried, giving -John Dick the sharpened end of her weapon in his wame, -'out with you, for it was your de'il's temper that began -the fray.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, having opened the door, she fairly thrust him -out into the night. But she had not time to close it again -before one whom none of us had seen came within the circle -of red light. He was a man of a dignified countenance, -dressed in black, and he held a plain staff, also of black, in -his hand. On his head there was a broad hat with a cord -about it. Upon his coat he wore no ornament save a broad, -black silk collar which lay upon his shoulders, and over that -again there fell another collar of fair soft linen, very white -and well dressed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What means this tumult in the house of Cassillis?' he -asked, speaking as one that has authority, and has been -accustomed to wield it unquestioned for many years.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now there was not a man there but longed to ask, 'And -who may you be that speers?' But none answered rudely, -for the awe that was upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then at last Robert Harburgh said to him, but -courteously, 'Sir, you ask of the tumult. It was a matter -that concerns those only that fought upon their own proper -quarrel. It concerns neither you nor yet my Lord Cassillis, -in whose house ye presently are.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lead me to my lord!' he said, as one who had only to -speak that the doors might be opened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Robert Harburgh withstood him and would not -suffer him to pass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let me see the Earl of Cassillis instantly!' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Earl is at supper,' said Robert Harburgh, 'and -cannot be disturbed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will eat with him,' said the stranger, calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then when some scullion laughed, for of custom those -who ate with the Earl of Cassillis entered not by the kitchen -door, the unknown made a gesture of extraordinary contempt -and yet withal of a marvellous dignity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go, instantly,' he commanded, pointing to the stair door -with his finger, 'and tell your master that Robert Bruce, -Minister of Edinburgh Town, would see him in the name -of the Lord and of His Highness the King of Scots.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Robert Harburgh, who had just outflouted John -Dick, the ruffler of camps, bowed before him. And as for -me I took my bonnet off my own head and saluted, for -there was no one of us who had not heard of the famous -and well-reputed minister, to whom the King had committed -the rule and governance of all the realm during the half-year -he was in Denmark busy marrying of his queen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with Robert Harburgh leading and myself following, -the minister passed up the stair with due attendance, and -into the supper chamber where the Earl and Countess took -their meal at even, mostly without speech each with the -other. And when through the open door I saw the Earl -welcome his guest as he would have done the King himself, -and especially when I heard their serious and weighty -conversation, the thought came to me that it was well that there -were men in Scotland able to make religion so to be honoured. -Then again I laughed, thinking of the mighty difference that -there was between Maister Robert Bruce, Minister of -Edinburgh and sometime ruler of Scotland, and poor Sir Thomas -Tode, domestic chaplain to the Earl of Cassillis and the -well-pecked husband of Mary Greg, his cook.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-flitting-of-the-sow"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE FLITTING OF THE SOW</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was Lammas day, and the strange wager of battle was -about to be fought. Maister Robert Bruce, who had -composed so many quarrels (and made so many more in the doing -of it), had altogether and utterly failed to make up this one. -So he had passed south to his friend and favourer the Laird -of Bargany, who for all his soldiership was ever great for the -honour of the Kirk. I hope that the Minister of Edinburgh -made more of him than he made of Earl John, of whom he -gat nothing but fair speeches and most indifferent drink, -which were indeed in my time the staples of Cassillis -hospitality.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, it so happened that Sir Thomas Kennedy, my -master, could not move from his chair, much less sit a horse, -because of that old income in the knee, which ever in the -hot season of the year caused him so much pain and trouble. -Thus it fell to me to lead our small levy from the lands of -Culzean, for we were near to the country of the Barganies, -and it would not do, in the absence of an armistice, -to denude our head castle of all the fighting men that were -thereabout.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The morn of Lammas was one that promised to open -out into a day of fervent heat, for the mists rose lazily, but -did not dissolve as the sun climbed the skies. Yet it was a -morning that pleasured me beyond telling, as I buckled on -my new sword of price, and rode out to fight. I am not -averse from fighting, but I own it is the riding out in array -that I chiefly love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What a heartsome sight it was when we turned our faces -towards Cassillis Yett, and saw the companies of Kennedies -come riding and running over every green knoll—long, -upright men of the South who had started the night before -from far Minnochside and Auchneil, shoulder-bent -shoremen who came over the edge of Brown Carrick, pikemen, -spearmen, and hackbuttmen, together with a multitude of -limber, pranksome lads with only a leathern jacket and a -whinger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we came to Cassillis Yett, there by the road-end -was Sir Thomas Tode, who was charged to tell us that my -lord had gone on before us with many soldiers and horsemen. -They had taken also with them a trail-cart, being a box -with shafts like a carriage, but without wheels, mounted -on a great brush of branches and twigs, which stuck out -behind and scored the ground with a thousand ruts and -scratches. This was for the conveyance of the sow, which -from sundawn to sunset was to be tethered, in despite and -contempt, upon the lands of the Craufords of Kerse. For -that was the wager of battle between the Kennedies and the -Craufords.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The place where we found the Earl and his tethered sow -was well chosen. It was a three-cornered piece of land, of -which two sides were defended by the Doon Water sharply -bending back upon itself, while across the broad base of the -triangle there ran a moss. The beating of the drums and -the playing of pipes were on all the hills; and so gay and -cheerful was the scene that it might have been a fair or a -weapon-shawing, for the sound of merrymaking and deray -that there was all about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Doon, that should run so red or sunset, now -sparkled pure and clear in the light of morning, and the -speckled piets and pigeons scudded here and there among -the coppices. We had not been long established on this -tongue of land with our tethered sow when there arose a -crying among the outposts, and word was brought that -from all the Craigs of Kyle, and out of all the country of -the east, the Craufords and their allies were gathering to -the trysted fray.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently we saw them top the brae in ordered companies. -It was bonny to see them come stringing down the sides of -the hills, now going singly like cattle along a path in the -steep places, and now forming into squadrons and companies -on the plain ground. The sunshine sifted through the thin -clouds as through a sieve, and made a strange pale glittering -on their war gear, so that all the country round was lit up -with little sparkling flashes of fire, like the wave tops when -the sun rises out of the eastern sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They had their drums also, though it was the latest of -many affronts that the Kennedys had put holes in all the -Crauford drums which were in the town of Ayr upon the -last market day. And this quarrel also had to be settled. -Presently we could see all twelve of the stalwart sons leading -on their vassals from the brown hills. They were a -sunburnt company, because it was about the Lammastide, when -the muirmen are wont to be out all day at the watersides at -the winning of the meadow hay—the crop which is hard to -grow, ill to mow, but worst of all to gather into barn, as -the saying goes in the parts of the outland hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was nine of the morning when the Craufords moved -to the attack. All this while the loathly sow, that was at -once provocation and offence, lay upon a little mound in -the midst of our camp, grunting and grumphing most -filthily. The Earl had set a little snipe of a raggetty loon -to stir her up with a pointed stick, so that she should not go -to sleep, but should grunt and disport herself as she ought. -Being thus encouraged, the boy did his work to admiration, -and the old grouting wretch kept up such a snorking and -yellyhooing that she could be heard almost from Dalrymple -Kirk to the Mains of Kerse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there was a pause for parley. Of this I will not -write at length, because it was for the most part but rudeness -and dirtiness that were bandied about and between—each -party miscalling the other for greater thieves and worse -murderers than their neighbours. Even in this I do not -think we had the worst of it, for John Dick (whose -finger-stump was well healed) spat out oaths as if for a wager. -And Muckle Hugh miscalled the Craufords in a voice like -thunder, as though they had been dogs that would not run -aright upon the hillsides of Kirriemore, in that dear land -which looks towards Galloway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, I cannot say that I was keen of this particular -quarrel. For though there was some pleasure in making a -figure in the great hall at Kerse, I foresaw but a brawling -of clowns and the splattering of confused fighting without -honour or chivalry, in this affair of swine and blundering -</span><em class="italics">melées</em><span>. Yet, because I was there in the place of my -knight, I could do no more than just bear the brunt and -abide.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the Craufords came on with their horsemen first -and the pikemen behind. But the mounted men came not -far, for the bog laired their horses, and they sank deeper and -deeper at every step. Then the footmen came between them -and charged up to our foremost lines, so that we were -hand-to-hand and hard at it in a trice. It was not, however, the -work of many minutes to gar them turn about and run, for -our front was solid and broad, while the hackbutt shooters -had fine rests for their guns, so that on a still day they could -bring a man down at thirty yards or more. A good many -Craufords were already splattering like wounded waterfowl -in the moss which protected our front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this we had time to look across the Doon Water, -from which there was a crying. And lo! there on the bank -stood our late guest, Maister Robert Bruce, the Minister of -Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But our Earl was now too hot to think of courtesy, so he -bade the minister stop where he was, or come over and take -a pike by the end; and this greeting made me sorry, for he -was a grand-looking man, with his long black cloak and his -noble black horse, which, they say, had once been the King's -own charger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I took the great risk of drawing the Earl aside, and -urged upon him that he should call a parley and see what the -Minister wanted. This, very reluctantly, he did, and we -could hear Master Bruce speaking from over the Doon -Water clearly, as if he had been in his own pulpit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In the King's name I bid you cease,' he cried; 'and in -God's name I debar and forbid you. If ye persist, I shall -deliver you to Satan, so that ye may learn that it is dangerous -to despise authority.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hoot toot, Maister Bruce, the days of curses are by with,' -said the Earl, 'and, besides, the most of us have ta'en a heap -of risks afore noo. We can e'en afford to take another.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wish to speak,' said the Minister, 'with Crauford of -Kerse.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then gang farther up the waterside and gie a cry. -There's nae Craufords here except dead anes!' said the Earl, -who had his daft coat on him that day, so that we feared he -had been bewitched.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the young men of the Craufords would have nothing -to say to him, having, as I suspect, no goo for a Minister -meddling in the bickerings of men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he returned and asked Cassillis for one to take him to -Kerse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go, Launcelot,' said the Earl,' and guide him. We will -manage somehow to keep the battle up among us till you -return.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, nothing loath to get away from gruntling horror on -the knowe top, I set Dom Nicholas's breast to the river, and -was beside the Minister in a trice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I passed up the waterside I came quite near to David -Crauford the younger. He stelled up the cock of his pistol -to shoot at me, but I held up my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am going to the Kerse to see your father. Have you -any word?' I cried to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For in these quaint times the friendliness and complaisance -with which killing was done will scarce be believed—often -with a jest, and, as one might say, amicably.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To see my father?' cried David across the water. -'Ye'll find him bird-alone. Then tell him that we'll flit -the Cassillis sow or it be dark yet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He turned again to where his brothers were standing -in council, looking often south and north, as though they -expected some reinforcement. Then something came into -his mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gangs the Minister to Kerse wi' you?' he cried down -the wind. I told him ay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then,' said he, laughing, 'he is likely to hear my father -at his devotions.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had at that time no inkling of David Crauford's meaning, -but before all was done I learned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Master Robert Bruce and I rode daintily and cannily -along the riverside, till we came to the ford of the mill -which is beneath the house of Kerse. As we rode our -horses through the water and slowly up the bank, and even -as we set our heads over the edge, we heard the loud and -wrathful crying of a voice that shook the air. It sounded -just as when, straying by quiet woodland ways, one turns -the corner of a cliff and comes suddenly upon the sea edge, -and lo! the roar and brattle of the waves on the long beaches.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we neared the house of Kerse we noted that the -words rose and fell, swaying like the voice of a preacher -who has repeated the same prayer times without number.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did not the young man mention that his father was at -his devotion? Heard ye ever tell that he was a religious -person?' asked the Minister of me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I answered him no, but by all accounts the contrary. -I told him that I had once been in the house of Kerse, and -that none there (including myself, I might have added with -truth) seemed to be greatly oppressed with any overload of -the Christian virtues.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we came near we were aware of a wide and -vacant house, all the doors open to the wall, stables and -barn alike void and empty. Not so much as a dog stirring. -But from the house end that looked down the water, there -came the crying of this great voice of one unseen. Mid-noon -though it was, and I with the most noted minister in -Scotland by my side, I declare that I felt eerie. Indeed, I -have never cared for coming on a habited house, when it -stands empty with all the furniture of service left where the -folk laid them down, and finding no one therein. Such a -place is full of footfalls and whispers, and a kirkyard at -midnight is not more uncanny, at least not to my thought.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It sounds much like a man blaspheming his Maker,' -said the Minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We rode round an angle of the wall, where there was -a flanking tower; and there, straight before us, sitting on a -high oaken chair under a green tree, was old David Crauford -of Kerse, his head thrown forward, his hands clenched, his -eyes fixed on the brow of the hill over which his sons had -gone—while from his mouth there came an astounding -stream of oaths and cursings, of which, so far as one could -grasp it, the main purpose seemed to be the sending of every -Kennedy that ever drew the breath of life directly and -eternally to the abodes of the damned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We dismounted leisurely from our horses, and reined -them loosely to the rings in the louping-on stone at the -house end. Then Maister Bruce strode forward and stood -in front of the old man, who had never for a moment noticed -us nor ceased from his earth-shaking cursings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not until the tall and dark figure of the Minister had -blotted out the point of the hill towards which he looked, -did the old man intermit his speech. Then he drew his -hand slowly across his brow, and threw his head back as if -to distinguish whether it were indeed a living man who -stood before him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am Robert Bruce, Minister of the Town of Edinburgh,' -said my companion, 'and I come from His Majesty -the King of Scotland, to bid you make an end of this evil -and universal regardlessness, which has polluted the whole -country with cruelty and dissension, with public factions and -private deadly feuds—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Old David Crauford leaned forward in his chair and set -his hand to his ear, as though he had not heard a word of -the Minister's speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What say ye, man?' he cried, testily, like one who is -stayed from his purpose by childish pranks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I say,' said the Minister, stoutly, 'that the disquieting -of the lieges with jacks, breast-plates, plate-sleeves, and -pistols is as much dishonouring to God as it is distasteful -to His Majesty the King—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hear ye me, my man. Hae ye done?' said old David, -glowering at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are you a Christian man?' said the Minister, sternly, -'or,' he added, as if on second thoughts, 'a loyal subject of -King James the Sixth?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Christian!' cried the old man with great indignation. -'Do you speer me gin I am a Christian? Man, do ye no -ken that I am an Ayrshireman? An' as for a loyal subject -of King Jamie, man, I hae been four score year and ten in -the world, and proud am I to say that three score and sax o' -them hae been at the King's Horn for rebel and outlaw—an' -never a penny the waur o' either, being ever willing and -able to keep my ain heid and haud my ain land again baith -prince and Providence!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Old man,' said the Minister, sternly, 'ken ye that ye -speak blasphemies. Know ye not that for every word ye -utter, God shall enter into judgment with you?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Verra likely,' said David Crauford, drily. 'Stand oot -o' my licht, man, I canna see through ye. Gin ye dinna, -this pistol will enter into judgment wi' you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Minister stepped aside—not, as I think, at all for -fear of the pistol, but despairing of reaching the conscience -of such a seared and battered heathen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then suddenly the old man rose from his seat as one -that sees a heavenly vision. His face appeared transfigured -and shining, and, with his white hair falling on his shoulders, -I declare he looked like the Apostle Andrew in the Papish -window of the High Kirk of Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see him! I see him!' he cried. 'He comes with the -tidings of battle.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked where he pointed with his eyes, but could see -nothing save a black dot, which seemed to rise and fall -steadily. Nevertheless, the old man spoke the truth. It -was, indeed, a swift rider making straight for the house of -Kerse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the man came nearer we saw him spur his horse till -it stumbled and fell at the park dykes, weary or wounded, -we could not tell which. This roused David Crauford, and -he shouted to the man who now came on lamely on foot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Man, is the sow flitted?' he cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man, peching and blown with his haste, could not -answer till he came near.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is the sow flitted?' again shouted the old man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, Laird Kerse,' cried the messenger, the tears trickling -down his face, 'pity this sorrowfu' day! There has been -a waesome slaughter o' your folk—ten o' them are dead—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is the sow flitted?' cried Crauford, louder than ever. -'Can you no answer, yea or nay?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, Kerse, hear me and weep; your braw and bonny -son Jock, the flower of Kyle, is stricken through the heart, -and lies cauld and dead on the ground.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Scoundrel, dolt, yammering calf, answer or die. Is the -sow flitted?' The patriarch stood up on his feet, fiercely -threatening the messenger with his staff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The sow is flitted,' cried the man. That and no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The old man fairly danced in a whirling triumph, cracking -his fingers in the air with joy like a boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My thumb for Jock!' cried he, 'the sow's flitted!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that he dropped slack and senseless upon his -great chair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Minister took my arm and led me to the louping-on stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come away,' he said sadly, 'it is no use. Ephraim hath -too long been joined to his idols. Let him alone. It is as -guid Maister Knox foretold. The Word of God is indeed -made of none effect in Kyle and Carrick.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-tryst-at-midnight"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE TRYST AT MIDNIGHT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>From Robert Harburgh I got the tidings of the disaster that -had befallen the Cassillis' arms soon after I had ridden away -with the Minister of Edinburgh. The Craufords were in no -hurry to come on in spite of all the taunts of the Earl, and -the disordered noise of the foul beast which for despite he had -tied on their lands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But they kept outposts on the hills about, and they looked -often this way and that way—even I had seen them. Then -began a waving of flags and crying of words, till once more -their line settled into place, and from the north and the -south at once fresh bands of horsemen came riding towards -us. And as they came nearer, the Cassillis folk saw that they -from the North were led on by James Mure the younger of -Auchendrayne, and from the south there came the band of -outlaws and robbers that called Thomas of Drummurchie -their captain. On two sides these beset us, with only the -river between, and the Craufords began to gather more -closely than ever on our front.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Earl remembered that what Dom Nicholas -and I had done so easily in the crossing of the Doon, other -men as determined might also do. But being, as I have said, -by nature a brave man, he first awaited the event. Nor was -it long before, at a given signal, Drummurchie and young -Auchendrayne set their horses to the water and came at us -through the bends of the river, in spite of the shots that -rained upon them, and the men that dropped from their -seats and spun down the flooded Doon. For it was soon -after the time of the Lammas floods, and the water was yet -drumlie and wan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In our front the Craufords raged, and altogether in a -trice our position was wholly turned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is not well done,' cried our Earl to Thomas of -Drummurchie, as he laid stoutly about him. 'Thy brother -had not so have treated his chief, when he strove with the -enemies of the clan. Wolf should not tear wolf, nor -Kennedy Kennedy!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a little it was seen that the promontory could not be -kept in face of a force three times our number, and specially -when those of our own name and ancient alliance were -striving against us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Out of the neck of the bottle, and keep together!' -cried the Earl, who on stricken field was no shaveling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with that, Earl John led his people straight across -the water at the point of the land that jutted between -the forces of Auchendrayne that came from the north, -and Drummurchie's desperate riders who beset us on the -south. So swiftly was this done that before they could close -or the Craufords come on, most part of the Cassillis folk -had passed Doon water. Though there were twenty at -the least who were either drowned or else wounded to -death, where they had fought the wager out on the fair -holms of Dalrymple.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It so befel as the Minister and I were riding home, -that we came on our little company of Culzean lads riding -with tired horses and slack reins shorewards. And God -be thanked for His ill-deserved mercy, in the quarrel that -had been so evilly settled, there was no loss to Culzean. -For we came not home with a single empty saddle, nor was -there so much as a pike staff left behind. The last of it that -they heard was the shouts of the Craufords as they flitted -the sow over the water to the lands of Kennedy, thus clearing -their own borders ere set of sun, according to their boast -and promise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the morrow's morn there came to each Kennedy's -gate a little squealing pigling with the Cassillis colours of -blue and gold tied in derision to its curled tail. And -round its neck was this motto, 'The flitted sow of Cassillis -hath pigged, and Crauford of Kerse sends the litter -home!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so in like manner was done at the house of every -Kennedy that had men at the fight of the sow-flitting, -whether they lived near or far. But who left them at the -yetts, none saw. All which was more likely to be a ploy -of Thomas of Drummurchie or John Mure's than of the -Craufords—who, to do them justice, had small skill in aught -save hard strokes, but plenty of that. For even to this day -there is small civility or scholarship about Kyle Stewart and -King's Kyle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now there was no mistaking but that we came home -with our fingers in our mouths, and the countryside jeers -at us of Cassillis and Culzean were many as the leaves of -the summer trees. Nor could I win belief that I had been, -by command of the Earl, at the house of Kerse along with -the Minister, instead of on the green inch of Dalrymple by -Skeldon haughs. For, believe it who will, there are many -right willing to have a catch at me; though, God knows, -I had never gone out of my way to put a slight upon -any man, nor yet thought more highly of myself than I -ought to think.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In time, however, the bitterness died down, and at -Culzean things went their wonted quiet way. It is true -that Nell Kennedy never so much as looked the way I -was on. I heard that she went about telling everyone -whom she thought would carry the tale to me, that I had -gotten the Earl's sword for procuring the sow of Skeldon, -and carrying her over Doon water on my back. But this -was no more than spite, easily seen through, and I minded -it not. For everyone in Carrick knew the cause why I -had gotten the blade from the Earl, who, indeed, is not a -man to give aught for naught, nor yet to bestow where, with -honour, he might withhold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to balance the beam, Marjorie was kinder to me -than ever she had been, so that I thought of a surety that -her heart had at last been touched by love. But as it -chanced, I was to get news of that before I was greatly -older.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the thing fell out, one night I had been somewhat -late out of bed, visiting of a friend whose name it does not -advantage to set down here. And in the morning, while -yet it was dark, I was returning by the rough shore tracks -to the coves, from whence I had to clamber warily up, in -order to reach my ladder of rope which depended, as of old, -from the overhanging turret of the White Tower.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I stood to breathe a while in the quiet of the cove, -I was aware of voices that spoke above me, for the sea was -quiet and the moon dipping down to the setting. My -thoughts were running at the time on treasure-seeking, for -among the things I had had on my mind that night there -was the matter of the losing of the Kelwood treasure in the -House of the Red Moss. Thinking that I might learn something -of importance, I hasted to clamber in the direction from -which came the voices. And as I glided along the foot of -the rocks in the black shadow, I came almost without -warning upon two who stood close together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could not go back. I could not go forward. I could -only retreat sideways as far as the rock would let me, and -even then I stood within a few feet of the speakers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the first words I knew them. It was Marjorie -Kennedy of Culzean talking with Gilbert of Bargany, the -enemy of her house and of us all. The blood settled -sharply chill about my heart, and the bitterness of death -seemed to come upon me. The maid to whom my -heart had gone out, to whom I had looked up as my liege -lady, was standing here in midnight converse with the -sworn enemy of her race and of her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I had no time for consideration—none for deciding -what I should do. I was no eavesdropper, yet for my life I -could not go forth and confront them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could hear Gilbert Kennedy's words. They were -pleading and passionate words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hear me, listen to me, Marjorie,' he said, and I could -see his uncovered head turned towards her where she stood -black between me and the sea, 'I love no one but you. I -have sought none but you. Ever since I was a stripling lad, -like your young Launcelot Kennedy, have not I given you -worship and service? Why then do you hate me, despise -me, turn away from me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I listened my heart rose again in hope. 'Your -Launcelot Kennedy,' he had said. It might be that I, -even I, was the cause why Marjorie turned from him as -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gilbert,' said Marjorie Kennedy, and her voice was like -the still waters of a sheltered sea lapping on the wet sands, -'I do not turn from you. I am not proud with you. If I -were, would I be here to-night? But in spite of this I am -trysted to another fate. If there is to be any use in my life, -it is that I may become the sacrifice that is to compose this -quarrel. And it cannot be with you for husband.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And wherefore not?' said Bargany fiercely, striking -one hand into the hollow palm of the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie put out one of her own hands as if to restrain him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will put you to the test,' said she; 'if I were Lady -Bargany, would you submit to John, Earl of Cassillis, and be -his man, setting aside all your ancient quarrels, and -acknowledging him as your liege lord?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God forbid!' said Bargany, promptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie put out her other hand for him to take.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And I like you the better for it, Gilbert,' she said -impulsively.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bargany set her fingers to his lips, and held her hands as -if he could never let them go.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then,' said she, 'since this bitter strife and the killing -of friends must somehow be stopped, and since you would -not stop it even for me—who am I that I should not be at -my father's command, to give and to take, to be sold and -bought like a beast in the market-place?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who talks of buying and selling?' interrupted Bargany, -roughly. 'Give me but a look of your eyes, and I will carry -you to my house of Bargany, and see if any dare to take -you from the safe keeping of Gilbert Kennedy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And my father?' said she, speaking very quietly, but -clearly, so that I heard every word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your father,' answered Bargany, 'is a good man—too -good for such a crew. He has married one daughter to the -young Sheriff of Galloway. Wherefore not another to his -cousin of Bargany? Is not Kennedy of Bargany, even -though he be an enemy, better than any noltish Galloway -laird?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' said Marjorie Kennedy, softly, 'but there is another -reason—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell it me and I will answer it,' said Bargany, with a -swift fierceness, for I think he imagined that he was making -head against her scruples. But I had heard her speak in -that still way before, and could have told him different.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Isobel Stewart, bower-maiden to the Queen, and the -Earldom of Carrick—they are surely reasons enough!' said -Marjorie Kennedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bargany started as though an adder had stung him. For -a moment he seemed bereft of speech.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who has been lying to you of me?' he said, almost -under his breath, as though the night air had suddenly made -him hoarse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, think again,' said Marjorie; 'is it not true? -Better a soiled bower-maiden of the King's court and an -earldom with her, than poor Marjorie Kennedy of Culzean -in her smock!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I never heard her say a spiteful thing before nor since—but -when it comes to the matter of the Other Woman, all -women are alike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bargany stamped his foot in very anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A fig for dignities, and a rotten fig for Isobel Stewart,' -he cried. 'I love but you, Marjorie Kennedy! Will you -come to me, so that you and I may face the world together? -For it is a black world and needs two hearts that can stand -by each other.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then betwixt me and the sea (as I have said) I saw -Marjorie knitting and clasping her hands as if her spirit -were wrestling within her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yea, Gilbert,' she said, very gently at last, 'it is as you -say, a black, black world. But neither you nor I are going -to better it by the breaking of trysts and engagements!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what tryst have you?' he demanded sullenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am trysted to sorrow,' she answered, 'trysted for ever -to want that which most I desire, and to have that which -most I hate. Gilbert Kennedy, take my hand this once and -hearken. You and I are too greatly like one another to be -happy together. We are not mates born for smooth things. -Sorrow is our dower and suffering our weird, and the pity of -it is that we must dree it apart. I think we are both "fey" -to-night,' she said, breaking off with a change of tone. -'We had best go within.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Within?' said Bargany, scornfully, for he bethought him -that he could never enter the house of Culzean as a friend.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, Gilbert,' said Marjorie, 'be a man and forgive. -Be a man also to Isobel Stewart, that she may know you a -truer man than she has ever met in King's courts—ay, truer -and nobler, as I think you, than the King himself. And let -me go my way....' She covered her face with her hands -and stood a space silent and bowed. 'Let me go my way!' -she said again. And so would have gone from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Gilbert Kennedy had her in his two arms and was -kissing her mouth, and that often and passionately.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' he said, 'I will not let you go. I will take you -in spite of all—though there were at Culzean a thousand -fathers—at Cassillis a thousand earls!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She withdrew herself from him with quiet dignity, yet -without anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you will not take me in spite of one Marjorie -Kennedy,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then at this, quick as a musket flash, Bargany turned -on his heel and tramped angrily down the shingle of the -shore, his sword clanking and his spurs ringing, as careless -who might hear as if he had been crossing the paved court -of his own house of Bargany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Marjorie Kennedy stood still and watched him go, -her hands pressed to her bosom, as though it needed both to -still the dreadful beating of her heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I love him! I love him!' she cried to the stillness, -when he was quite gone. 'Oh, that he might trample me, -that his hand might slay me, so that in death he might lift -up my head and say once again, "I love you."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so she also passed away within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I, in my corner, where I had been an unwilling -hearkener, set my face between my knees and thought that -the world would never be bright again. For I had heard -that which I had heard, and I knew now that Marjorie, my -Lady Marjorie, would never know love for me while the -world lasted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, I rose up and clambered aloft to reach my -rope ladder. I climbed over the rocks, thoughtlessly, -heedlessly, and I scraped my shoe so that it sounded loud in -the still night. Suddenly I saw something bright above me, -the flicker of a white robe. I had nearly fallen, thinking -that the appearance might be a spirit of the darkness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dinna be feared, night-raker,' said a voice I knew well; -'it is only Nell Kennedy. Think ye that none can climb -up the W hite Tower besides yourself?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was so greatly astonished that I could not speak at once.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What may you be doing there at this time of the -morning, Nell?' I said at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just like yourself—trying to find a quiet way to my -bed,' said she; 'but I must hasten, or I shall be late to let -in Marjorie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What Marjorie,' said I, pretending that I knew nothing -of the matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lie to other folk gin ye like, Spurheel,' said the -madcap, contemptuously, 'but dinna think ye can lie to -Nell Kennedy. I saw ye come from the hole down by -the Cove.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But what do you here, Nell?' said I, for it might -be that the mad lassie had a lad, and it seemed a terrible -thing that she should be so misguided at her age as to meet -him alone by night.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Maybe I was down by seeing Kate Allison, the Grieve's -lassie,' said she. 'Do you honestly think, Spurheel, that -Helen Kennedy would permit a sister of hers to gang -jooking here and there about the shore wi' a bonny young -man at the dead of nicht all by her lone? It is not -very likely.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I said no more. It was not easy to argle-bargle with -Nell Kennedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And now betake yourself up the rope to your garret,' -she said, 'and I will follow after, for I must let our -Maidie in by the east door or it grows light.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I motioned her to go first, but she turned on me in great -indignation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hear ye, Spurheel, up wi' ye! And if ye so much as -set your nose oot o' your window when I am on the rope, -it will no be telling you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I climbed up and shut-to the window, and long before -I was settled in bed I heard the two sisters talking softly -together in the room beneath. So I knew that Nell -Kennedy had carried out her mad ploy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-adventure-of-the-garden"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE ADVENTURE OF THE GARDEN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I need not tell all the reasons why my well-beloved and -kindly master, Sir Thomas Kennedy, had grown to be hated -with a deadly feud by all the ill-conditioned of the Bargany -faction, saving indeed by Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany -himself. For one thing, my master was the man of the -best and wisest counsels among all the supporters of Cassillis. -He had many virtues, being well-liked wherever he went -for kindliness and courteousness. Also he was a man of -good principles and religion, so far as the times permitted, -and indeed somewhat beyond, as he found to his own bitter -cost or all was done.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Still more, my master Culzean was never one to suspect -evil of any man, and was ever prone to cover wrack -and ruin by over-trust and graciousness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The first act of a great and wide conspiracy to compass -his death was now to be played, for Thomas of Drummurchie, -the brother of young Bargany, was not of so lofty -a spirit as his chief. Indeed, to speak plainly, he was no -better than an assassin and a common bully. He caused all -the country-side to lie in terror for fear of him, being great -with none, save only with the Lairds of Auchendrayne,—which -was a strange thing considering their outward profession -of strict honour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It happened that there was a worthy knight, an -indweller in the town of Maybole, Sir Thomas Nisbett -by name, who was a crony of my master Culzean. -Now, it was the practice for the gentry of the -neighbourhood during the winter, to enter in and dwell within the -town of Maybole in many pretty and well-built houses of -freestone, diverting themselves during the dead time of -the year with converse together in each other's houses. -These stand for the most part in the chief street of -Maybole, and have fine gardens attached to them. Of them -all, that of the Earl of Cassillis, is the largest, but the -one belonging to my master Culzean is but little behind it -in beauty and convenience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sir Thomas Kennedy bode little about his house in -Maybole, chiefly because his lads and lasses loved most to -remain at Culzean, where the cliffs are and the sea spreads -wide, clattering pleasantly on the rocks, and with the birds -blithely swirling and diving about it all the year round. And -of this I also was glad, for to live in a town is a thing I cannot -abide for any long time, being bred to the life of the hills -and to the wind in my face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, on this New Year's Day, it so happened that this -Sir Thomas Nisbett had invited my master, being, as I say, a -crony of his own, and of an age with him, to sit down at -supper in his house in Maybole. So Culzean took horse and -a small attendance, of whom I was the chief, and rode over -to bide the night in Maybole town, meaning to lodge in his -own house, and in the morning return to his Castle of -Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My master was a mightily curious man in one particular. -He could not abide any repair of people coming and going -with him on his journeyings. And if in a quieter time he -had gotten his will, he would have ridden here and there -without any attendance whatever—so kindly and unsuspicious -of evil was his nature. On the New Year night he had -bidden me to remain within doors, because, as he said, he -knew his way home full well from Sir Thomas Nisbett's -house. Also, I suspect, he wished me not to observe -whether he retained his usual walk and conversation, after -seeing the New Year in with the Provost and the other -Sir Thomas, for the custom of Maybole was exceedingly -hospitable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>New Year's Day had been dark and gloomy. The -promise of oncoming foul weather was in the feel of the -raw, drooky air. No sooner was it dark than a smurr of -rain began to fell, very wetting and thick, so that even with -torches it had been impossible to see many paces. We -reached our lodging at the town house of Culzean before -the night had set in, and as the supper was at six of the -clock, it was no long time before my master took his way -to Sir Thomas Nisbett's house. He left me seated by the -fire with a book of chronicles of the wars to read. As soon, -however, as he had issued forth upon the street, I took my -bare sword in my hand, and by another door I sallied forth -also. For in such a town as Maybole there are always ill-set -folk that would gladly do an injury to a well-kenned and -well-respected man like my master. And much more now -when the feud had waxed so hot and high.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it chanced that Sir Thomas, so soon almost as he set -foot over the doorstep, greeted his fellow-guest, the Provost -of the town—who, as became his office, had with him one to -hold the tail of his furred gown out of the clarty mud, and -also a lad with a torch running before him. Nevertheless, I -followed on in that darker dusk which succeeds the glare of a -torch. On our way we had to pass through the garden -behind the house of Sir Thomas Nisbett, which was full of -groset bushes, divided by high hedges of yew and box. I -came softly after them, and abode still by the gate when the -Provost and his train had passed through with our good knight -in their midst. The pair of them were talking jovially -together as they went, like men with toom kytes that -know they are going in to be filled with good cheer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I declare I am as hungry as a moudiewort in a black -frost,' said the douce Provost. 'I haena seen meat the day. -What wi' hearkening to auld wives denouncing ane anither -for kenned and notour witches, and sending men of the -tribes of little Egypt to the Tolbooth, my life has no been -my ain.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My master laughed loudly and heartsomely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is weel to be hungry and ken o' meat,' he replied, in -the words of the well-kenned proverb.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the pair of them laughed with their noses in the air, -easily mirthful like men that strengthen themselves with the -comfortable smell of dinner blown through an open door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I question much whether they had laughed so -heartily if they had seen what I saw at that moment. And -that was a face looking over the height of the yew hedge—a -face wrapped about the mouth with a grey plaid and with a -grey brimmed hat pulled close down over the eyes. As the -flickering of the torch died out at the entering in of the -house door, I saw the man raise his hand in a warning and -forbidding gesture, as though he made a signal to men who -could see him, but who were hidden from my sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was enough for me. I resolved that those who -plotted evil behind backs should have to war with Launce -Kennedy, who, at least, was no mean foe, and one not given -to wearing his eyes under his coat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Not for a moment after this could I leave the garden, -for one of the villains might have gone to the window and -shot at my master through the glass—as one had done years -before to good Maister John Knox (who, as I have heard -tell, reformed religion in this land) on an evening he sat -quietly reading his book and drinking of his ale in his own -house in the High Street of Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I got me into an angle of the garden and climbed a -wall, which, being grown with ivy, was a good and safe post of -vantage. From thence I could overlook the whole enclosure. -After a little my eyes became better accustomed to the -darkness. The lights from the windows also made a faint -glimmering athwart the hedges, and I could distinctly see -men darning themselves into their hiding-places, and getting -ready their pistols and hackbutts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even as I sat there on the wall and froze, a plan came -into my head which sent the blood surging through my veins, -like the tide scouring the gut of Solway. I remembered -that Sir Thomas Kennedy was at no time very active on his -legs, and what with the income in his knee and the good -wine under his belt, he would assuredly be in no key for -running when he issued forth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Also they were certainly many who lay in wait for him. -I counted at least five moving about in the faint light. -So I mounted the top of the ivied wall, and slid down the -outside, landing heavily on my hinderlands in a ditch. I -stole round to the gable door of Nisbett's house, and told -the manservant that I had come to see my master, whereupon -they permitted me to go up to the room on the first -storey, where the guests were already set down at the banquet. -I knew well that it was no use speaking to my lord, but I -did venture to call out the host, Sir Thomas Nisbett, whose -head was stronger and whose heart more readily suspicious -than those of the Laird of Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Him I told how the matter stood, whereupon he wished -to speak to the Provost and to call the town officers. But I -assured him that these determined assassins in the yard could -render an account of the town guard twice told over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So,' said I, 'I have this to propose to you in a word. -When the time comes for the guests to depart, you will -detain my master—and the Provost, too, if you can.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ere I have done with them they will not move far to-night, -or my name is not Thomas Nisbett,' said the host, -nodding his head, for these were the manners and hospitalities -of the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you will lock them in a secure place till the morning!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But,' said Nisbett, 'will not the villains attack my -house? If it be as you say, they have assurance for -everything.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him that they might very well do that, but that -if he gave me a mailed coat with plate sleeves, and also -kneecaps of steel, together with my arms and cap, I -thought I could make a race for it and carry them all off -along with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, laddie,' he cried, 'ye gang to your death!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him not so, for that even when accoutred I was a -notable runner, and could course like a hare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And in any case, better Launce Kennedy be dead than -Culzean, or the Provost and yourself, Sir Thomas Nisbett. -What would happen to the town and countryside then?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, better that,' he said very sententiously, at which I -could scarce forbear but smile, for the very simplicity of the -man was such that he not only counted his life worth more -than mine, but expected me to do the same. However, it -was not concerning him, but of my master and my master's -children that I thought. What mattered little to a -Kennedy of Kirrieoch, mattered greatly to Sir Thomas -Kennedy, Tutor of Culzean. Yet I know not that I had -any great fear of failure, for I had thus far won off -scot-free, even when in the general engagement our faction had -gotten the worst of it. And so I thought to do always.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The evening wore on like eternity, and I had many a -thought in my heart, though but few of them were sad or -waesooie, for I was too young. Most of all I prayed that -I might bear myself well, and in some shape at least carry -the matter through without dishonour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the Provost and my master had well drunken and -eaten yet more, their host stole away from them on a -pretext, and came to the chamber where I sat in darkness, -planning how to make my way through the garden.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He brought me presently the equipment of which I had -need, and of his own accord added another pistol of -admirable French workmanship. For France is ever the country -for good ordnance of all sorts—from the pistolet which Sir -Thomas Nisbett gave me to the cannons that dang down -the Castle of Saint Andrews about the heads of Normand -Leslie and his crew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gin ye live ye kin keep the pistol,' he said, as one that -did me a vast kindness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then over my steel cap I set the great broad hat of Sir -Thomas of Culzean, and did his cloak about me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now the time to go, and I tell you true, my heart -beat a pretty tune to dance to as I stood at the back of the -door—with my host hiding well in the rear, lest they should -nick him by firing as the light within showed me plain in -the doorway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I ordered the lamp to be removed and the door to be -opened. Then my host bade me adieu in a loud, hearty tone, -and said that he would come round and visit me in the -morning. It was with a bitter sort of joy, not wholly -unpleasant, that I heard the door clash sharply to behind me. -I had my sword in my right hand and my pistol ready bent -in the other. And I bethought me how many would have -risked the same wager of battle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a light flickering somewhere in the town—belike -a party passing homeward with torches from a merry -making, or some of the bonfires lighted for the inbringing -of the New Year. I could see my friend of the beckoning -hand now standing erect with his plaid about him. He was -the same I had seen at the burning of the Bible when I was -but a boy in the courtyard of Ardstinchar, and, I doubted -not, the Grey Man of our later troubles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew that the sharpshooters would be placed in the -alleys of the garden. Indeed, I had seen them pass to their -situations, and observed that they had their hackbutts carefully -pointed at the path along which I must pass. So instead of -walking directly down the main road to the gate, I made -believe to stumble on the threshold, and to recover myself -with an exclamation of pain, in order that I might divert -them into waiting till I should come their way. For I must -perforce pass by the mouths of their muskets so close that -they could not miss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But instead of taking the main avenue, I darted sideways -along the narrower path which led round the garden's edge, -and there, cowering in the angle, I waited for what should -happen. In their hurry and surprise I heard one hackbutt -go off with a crash, and the light from the touch lit up the -garden. Then in the darkness that followed I ran further -down the walk towards the outer gate. In the midst I -came upon a fellow who kneeled with his musket upon a -stick, trained upon the middle path by which they had -hoped that Culzean would come. Then with my sword I -stuck the hulking villain through that part of him with -which I came most readily in contact. What that -might be, I declare that I know not until this day. Only -I judged that it could not have been a very mortal one, by -the vigour with which he cried out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then indeed there was confusion and deray to speak -about. I saw the form of the Grey Man, whom I had observed -directing the ambush, rise from the further dyke-side. He -spoke sharply like one that cries orders, and at the word -many men came rushing pell-mell to see what was the cause -of the hideous outcry on that side of the garden where I was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I overstepped the carcase of the rascal into whom I -had set my good blade, and most circumspectly made my way -down the side of the wall unseen of any.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when I had advanced as far as the way out by the -single gate, my fate came, as it were, to the stern and deadly -breach. For there were marksmen who had their pieces trained -on that place. With my own eyes I had seen them set -themselves in position. Nevertheless, the noise behind waxed so -imminent that I drew a long breath, and sprang at the -opening. As I went through, ten or twelve pieces at the least, -both pistolets and hackbutts, were loosed off against me. I -heard the bullets splash, splash all about my legs and body, -and one that had bounded from the lintel of the door-post, -dunted me on the breastplate, which it was a God's mercy I -had minded to wear. Yet for all I escaped wholly unscathed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Outside the gate there were two fellows that withstood -me, and I had small time to ask whether they were friends or -foes. So, to make siccar, I speered no catechisms of them, -but only shot off my pistol into one of the thickest parts of -one, setting the muzzle almost to his belt, and with yet more -gladness gave the other a sound iron thrust in the shoulder. -For all my life I have loved the point more than the edge—and -a thousand times better than the powder and lead—which -is an uncertain hit-or-miss thing at best.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I cleared the yett, sprang through, and there I had it -down the High Street of Maybole with the bullets spelking -about me like hailstones, and chance night-wandering -burghers scudding for their doors like conies on the sandy -knowes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard the fierce rush of men behind me, and looking -over my shoulder I saw some ten running my way with their -swords drawn in their hands. So I knew that it was likely -there would be one among them who could outrun me, -having war-gear upon me and that not all mine own. With -that I undid the cloak of the Laird of Culzean, my master, -and let it fall; and so much lightened I sped on till, near to -the house of one Matthew M'Gowan, they fairly ran me -to earth.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-midnight-leaguer"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A MIDNIGHT LEAGUER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The place of my refuge was a summer-house set in a garden, -and mostly made of wood. But it had three feet of stonework -about the walls, which chance fortifications, as I think, -saved my life. Then I praised the forethought with which -I had brought with me abundant powder and shot in the -horns I had slung at my girdle. I also remembered to -thank Providence for misdirecting the bullets as I ran out -of the garden door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here in this small child's playhouse it was my fortune to -stand such a siege as mayhap never man stood before. And -of that I shall tell, so that all may judge and see whether -the reward which the Earl of Cassillis afterwards obtained -for me, was at all out of keeping (as some allege) with the -services which I, Launce Kennedy, sometime esquire, -rendered to him and his house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet I did the thing for love and by no means for -reward. Ay, and largely without thought also. For such -was the spirit of the times, that wagers of battle were -accepted lightly to spite one and overpass another, like -children that play Follow-my-leader upon the street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I lay in my summer-house, behind the low breastwork -of stone, while above me the bullets rattled through -the frail woodwork like hailstones that splash into still -water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lying thus prone, I charged my pistols—a thing which, -from long practice, I could do very well in the dark, and -gazed out through the open windows that looked every -way. What I suffered from most was the want of light -upon the approaches of my castle at the top of the garden. -For I was placed upon a little hill, and the ground sloped in -every direction from me. Yet even this advantage of position -did me little good, for the light was too uncertain to show -me those that might come against me. And more than -all, this uncertainty put me in a sweat lest I should shoot -at shadows and allow the real enemy that came to invade -and slay me to pass harmless, so that they would break upon -me before I was aware.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Occasionally, however, the light that burned somewhere -in the town cast glimmerings over the garden, and then I -could see dark figures that crouched and scudded behind bushes -and sheltered ayont the trunk of every leafless tree. After -that God-sent illumination grew brighter, I think it is not -too much to say that each time I got a fair chance at an -enemy, there was one rascal the fewer alive—or at least one -that had a shot the more in him. It cheered me to see -them crawling out of the range of my ordnances as if they -had been few and I a host.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Most of all I aimed, with the deadliest and most prayerful -intent to kill, at the tall man in the cloak, whom I had seen -from the first directing the ploy. Time and again I believed -that I had him, but upon each occasion it was some meaner -rogue that bore the brunt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus I held my own with Sir Thomas's French pistol -laid aside ready for them if they came with a rush, and my -own for common use to load and fire again withal, till the -barrels almost scorched me with the heat. Also I kept my -sword ready to my hand, for when it comes to the edge -of death, I put more confidence in my blade than in all the -ordnance in the land. Though Heaven forbid that I should -speak against the pistolet, when that very night I had so -often owed my life to it. My chief hope now was that the -Provost of the place, who had been a guest with Sir Thomas, -might escape and rouse the townsfolk. The people of -Maybole loved not the Barganies greatly, but, on the -contrary, were devoted to the service of my master Culzean, -because of his kindliness of disposition, and the heartsome -way he had of calling them all 'Sandy' and 'Jeems,' -according to their Christian name, a thing which goes a far road -in Scotland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It so happened just then that the fire that did me so much -good—which, as I afterwards learned, was lighted by one of -my enemies for frolic in the wood-yard of one Duncan -Crerar, millwright—burned up a little and cast a skarrow -over the garden where I was. When it was at its brightest, -there came four fellows running up the brae all with their -swords bare in their hands, so that it seemed that I was as good -as dead, for it was manifestly impossible that I could -withstand them all. But I minded the saying of a great captain of -the old wars, 'Stop you the front rank, and the second will -stop of itself.' So I took good and careful aim with my -pistols at the two fellows that led the charge, and fired. The -first of them tossed his blade in the air, spun about like a -weathercock and fell headlong, while the other, lamed in -his leg, as it appeared, tried to crawl back down the hill -again. The two that came behind were no little daunted -by this fall. Nevertheless, they still came on, but I cried out -as loud as I could, 'Give me the other pistols, Sir Thomas, -and I shall do for these two scoundrels also!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At which they gave back in great astonishment and ran, -I make no doubt, to tell their masters that they had to do -with more than one old man well lined with sack and canary. -Then in the breathing space I charged my pistols again, and -cried to the fellow that was limping along the ground by -the back of my summer-house,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Link it, my lad, back to your master, or I shall put -another bullet in ye, in a place where it will stop you from -groaning and hirpling there at my lug!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For I understood well that he desired to take me in -the rear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment there happened a thing surprising. I -saw a tall, dark figure overleap a wall at the side from which -the shots came thinnest. I saw it stoop and lay fire to -something that was darker than itself, when instantly there -arose from the pile of millwright's shavings and kindling -wood a clear light which caused all the garden to be seen -without any difficulty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the tall, unknown figure, which seemed yet -unaccountably familiar to me, walked slowly up the middle walk -toward the summer-house, the pistols cracking all about, and -the bullets splashing faster than ever upon the roof and sides -of my shelter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I saw who it was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Run for it, Robert Harburgh,' I cried. 'Man, you are mad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I declare he never altered by a single pulse-beat his -deliberate advance. At the door he paused as one that upon -the threshold would turn to kick a yelping cur. Then -giving the sharpshooters a wave of his hand in contempt, he -entered and shut the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Saint Kentigern's fish and a thousand devils,' said I, 'I -am not feared of any man, but there is no sense in -foolhardiness, Robert. Come in out of reach of their bullets -this moment, thou fool!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' he returned to me, 'I had as lief die and be done -with it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But then I would not, for my stomach is in good order,' -replied I, swiftly, 'so lie down on thy belly and at the least -help me to keep alive, for I am most consumedly anxious to -keep my body from proving leaky by the entering in of -bullets.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, obediently he laid him down, watching one side of -our cunning defences. He told me that he had heard what -was a-doing—how that the Mures and Drummurchies, together -with Sawny Bean, the savage carl that was called of -the common people 'The Earl of Hell,' had gotten the Laird -of Culzean in a little summer-house in a walled garden and -were there worrying him to death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So,' said Harburgh, 'having nought better to do, I -primed my pistols and came.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The firing upon us grew hotter than ever. We seemed -at times to be closed within a ring of fire. Yet neither of -us were the least hurt, save that a chip from the edge of a -stone, driven off by a bullet, had struck me on the cheek -and made it bleed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the fire which Robert Harburgh had lighted -burned up, we that were marksmen lost no chances at any -who showed so much as an arm or a leg. And many of -those murderous rascals whom we did not kill outright (not -having a fair chance at them from their lying in shelter and -other causes), were at least winged and sore damaged, so -that we judged that there would be some roods of lint -bandage required about Drummurchie and Auchendrayne -on the morrow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Outside we heard a great and growing turmoil and the -sound of many voices crying 'To the death with the -murderers! Break down the doors!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the noise of the people who had risen in the -night and were coming to help us. For in a moment the -gate of the yard was broken down, and a rout of men in -steel caps and hastily-donned armour came pouring in. And -it had been comical to watch the array, if our urgent -business had allowed. For some had put on a breastplate -over their night gear; some fought like Highlandmen in -their sark-tails, which, on the night of the New Year, must -have been breezy wear; while others again had snatched a -hackbutt and had forgotten the powder, so that now they -carried the weapon like a club by the barrel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Before these angry levies our cruel invaders vanished like -smoke, as though they had never been, clambering over walls -and scurrying through entries. But it is reported that several -of them were sore hurt in thus escaping—indeed, here and -there throughout the town were no fewer than five dead and -six wounded, chiefly in the two gardens where I had been -compelled to discharge my pistols.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert Harburgh stepped out of the summer-house before -them all, stretching his limbs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>''Tis a cramped, ungodly place, friends,' he said. 'After -all, it is better to fight in the open and risk it!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where is the Laird of Culzean?' cried some that knew -him not. 'If ye cannot show us the laird, ye shall die -forthwith!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' replied Harburgh, 'concerning that I ken not. -'Tis not in my province, being general information. My -parish is fighting, not the answering of questions. Come -hither, Launce, and tell them of thy master!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereat I came forth and told them of the cruel plot -and the attack upon Sir Thomas at Nisbett's house. But -they would not be satisfied till they had gone there and found -him. Nothing would do but that he should show himself -unhurt and speak a word to them at the window. Which, -being of short-grained temper and with a monstrous headache, -he was most loath to do. But Robert Harburgh, who had -experience of suchlike, being before his marriage a great man -of his cups, poured water upon his head, and, having dried it -by rubbing, he brought him to the window, where he spoke -to the people as his kindly friends and neighbours, and -thanked them for their affection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' cried one, 'thank your own young squire, who -has to-night ta'en your life upon him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the people of Maybole, for the honest and honourable -love which they bore us, abode under arms till the morning, -and searched all the town for the murdering ruffians of -Drummurchie. Yet they found them not, for such always -have a back door to escape by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In the morning, Sir Thomas called for his hat and cloak, -and when they were brought he started in wonder and cried, -'What, in the name of the shrunk shanks of the Abbot of -Crossraguel, is the meaning of this hole?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Robert Harburgh said, ''Tis but an airy summer -suit that Launcelot wore last night, when he went forth -among those that sought to kill the Laird of Culzean.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My master stared without comprehending. But when -he fully understood, he clasped me in his arms.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God knows,' he said, 'I would give my right hand, if -I could believe that I had a son who would ever do as much -for me. Those I have are good for naught but golf and -stool-ball.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Wherein by his hasty words he did his honest, silly lads -much wrong.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="greybeards-and-dimple-chins"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">GREYBEARDS AND DIMPLE CHINS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One Sabbath morn there came an unwonted message to me, -as I sat lingering and idle in the armoury of Culzean. I -had cleaned my own graith and oiled the pistols—which I -regularly did on the Sabbath morning whenever I did not go -to the kirk at Maybole. Now, this particular day of which I -speak, I was idly conning the leaves of a song-book full of -trifling, vain, and amatorious lilts and catches—some of them -very pleasant, however, and taking to the mind. It ought -to have been my psalm-book that I was at, God forgive me; -but since ballad-book it was, why, even so will I set it down -here.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the message that came was by the mouth of a kind -of jackal or lickpot of John Dick's—who, for reasons of his -own, hated me, chiefly because I took no share in the foulness -of him and his subservient crew. This youth was of so -little worth, that in all the transactions of this book he has -not once come into the narrative—though as I now -remember he was at the tulzie in Edinburgh, and also at the -flitting of the sow. On both occasions he was the first -to run.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The name of him was Colin Millar, an ill-favoured, -envious, upsetting knave, compact of various ignorances and -incapacities. And there needs no more to be said about him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is a man wanting to see you down at Sandy -Allison's, the Grieve's,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he looked at me with the cast in his eye as crooked -as a paddock's hind leg, and says he, 'The tat will be in -the fire now, I'm thinking. They tell me that it is the -Minister!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew very well what the ill-tongued hound meant. -So right gladly without a word I set the knuckles of my -hand, Sabbath morning though it was, against his ugly face -in a way that would leave a mark for a day or two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take you that, dog,' I said to him, 'and learn to keep -a more ruly member in your insolent head. Think not that -you are John Dick, though you carry his dirty slanders. -As the wild boar gnashes its tushes, so the little piglings -squeak!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as he went away, lowering and snarling, I had a -mind to go after him and give him something more than -my knuckles. For the thing he meant was a lie of the -devil, lighted at his furnace and spewed out of the reek -of his pit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as I went to the door there came a poor lad from -the stable with the same message—that there waited one for -me at the house of Sandy Allison, the Grieve.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I knew that the dog Millar had not invented the -whole matter. Whereupon I looked carefully to my gear, -did a new doublet upon me (because it was the Sabbath -day) and girt me with a sash of blue, coft in Edinburgh -and never before worn. Then setting my sword in its -sheath, I went out through the woods, which were now -grown leafless and songless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a brisk air of winter, crisp without rawness, -in the breeze, and I was glad to be out of doors; for since -the matter of the meeting with Gilbert Kennedy, which by -ill chance I had seen, both Marjorie and Nell came seldom -my way. Which is, perhaps, why I looked so well to my -apparelling ere I went to the Grieve's house. For a lad -wearies for the speech of women-folk, and if he gets not one -kind—why, he will seek another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now, when I come to think of it, I need not have -troubled so to deck myself. For after the corner is turned -and the long lane leads straight to the garden of roses, a -woman cares not whether a man be clothed in dishclouts or -whether he glitters like a bridegroom in cloth of gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when I came near to the house there issued forth to -meet me Kate Allison, which seemed to me like ancient -days come back, and my heart beat in a fashion I never -thought to feel again. For a burnt stick is easily lighted, -and Kate Allison was, without doubt, both bonny and kind. -She was waiting for me at the corner of the barn like one -that has an assignation. So when she came near me she -put her hands roguishly behind her, and said, 'Launce -Kennedy, you are a false, deceitful lad, and no true lover. But -think ye not that I care a pin, for I have gotten a braw -lad of my own, and no thanks to you. Ye can get the Lady -Marjorie to convoy hame next year from the Maybole Fair.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And her speech made me glad, for she dropped me a -courtesy and pretended to march off. So I knew full well -that if she had not been heart-whole and at ease about all -doubtful matters, she would have greeted me very differently. -So, as I say, I was glad. Yet presently I liked it not so well -as I expected, for though men are often false to their loves, -they never understand how their loves can change from -loving them. I knew well that Kate would, if not meddled -with, immediately return to tell me what had befallen, and -why it was that they had sent for me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which indeed was just what she did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We have gotten a mighty grave man here with us, who -came to our house last night at e'en. We wanted to send -word to the castle to Sir Thomas; but the man said that he -had had enough of the Kennedies to last him his lifetime, and -that he would put up with us, if we could make shift to give -him a bed. He is a man of a majestic and noble countenance, -and when he had come within, he took a Bible from his -wallet, and tairged us tightly on the histories of the wars of -the Jews and on points of doctrine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye would be fit for that,' said I to her, laughing, 'for -most of our discourse has been upon points of doctrine and -practice—though I mind not that we touched upon the wars -of the Jews. We had ever wars enough of our own. Was -it not so, sweet Kate?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I would have taken her by the waist, for that is ever -the way, as I have just been reading in my song-book, to punish -a woman, when like a pretty scold, she slanders her love. -So, as the London stage catch hath it, I forgave her for it. -Yet for all she would by no means permit me to come near -her—which I was mortally sorry for. Because though I -wanted her to change, I desired her not to change so mightily -as all that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Na, na,' she said, 'and that's by with. Kate Allison -needs no general lovers. Wear you your own lady's favours; -I can get them that loe me and none other, to wear mine.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I pursued the subject no further at that time, meaning, -however, to return to it. For a man likes not to see the -things which have been freely his slipping from him like -corn through a wide-meshed riddle. It makes his mind linger -after things long past, and he begins to think them sweeter -than any favours that ever he had, even when all the garden -was most fully his to wander in and cull at his lordly pleasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Too soon for my liking, therefore, we came to the door -of the Grieve's house, which was but a wide kitchen with -two smaller rooms off it. I heard a voice uplifted as it -seemed in prayer, and I bethought me with shame of -my so late mean and earthly thoughts; but I looked at -Kate Allison, and she was so pleasant to look upon that -I found excuses for myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the prayer being done we went in, and they told -the man in the inner room that that same Launcelot -Kennedy, for whom he had inquired, was come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So in a moment there came forth from the inner chamber, -even as I had expected, Maister Robert Bruce. He wore his -long, black cloak, and his fine, cloth coat showed soberly -beneath it. His hat was on his head, which he doffed for -a moment to Kate Allison and her mother, and then set on -again. He bade them excuse him, for that he had much -business to talk with me. I followed him out, and as I -passed Kate, methought she looked disappointed that I -should go thus soon. So, the corners of her mouth being -down, and her mother's back turned, I put my hand beneath -her chin, and plucked at the loose slip-knot of her bonnet, -which was a pretty quipsome thing that haymakers use, but -prettier on her than on any of them. Whereat she flashed -forth a great, sharp pin and set it spitefully in my arm, -which also was a pleasing habit of hers. But all was -innocent and friendly enough, and my only excuse for -thinking more of daffing with Kate Allison than of listening -to the grave converse of Maister Robert Bruce, is that -then I was nearing nineteen years of my age—which, as you -all do know, is a time when maids' dimples are more moving -than the wisdom of the sages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That is all mine excuse, and, as well I wot, but a poor -one. Yet when once Maister Bruce had me in the wood, -taking me by the arm, the majesty of his countenance and -the moving fervour of his voice so worked upon me that in -good sooth I thought of naught but what he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He told me that he was resolved to depart out of this -land of Carrick and Kyle, which might have been the -Garden of Eden if it were not inhabited by devils. He -had come no speed at reconciling the parties at feud, even -as I could have told him before he began.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'When I had thought,' he said, 'that I had made some -way in softening the heart of Gilbert Kennedy, who vaunts -himself to be sincerely attached to me—and I do believe it—I -said to him that he ought, for the settling of the quarrel, -to give in his submission to his liege lord, the Earl of Cassillis. -In a moment comes the fire into his eyes, the anger grows -black in his heart, and all my good words are undone. I -think you Kennedies are all of you possessed with evil spirits, -even as it was in the days of the Gadarene out of whom -Christ cast many devils.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused a moment, and then continued,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So the name of the devils of Carrick is Legion, for they -are very many!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, being sorry that he should so speak of those who, -after all, were my master's kin and in a manner my -own—for all the world knows that a blood feud is a thing -acknowledged in the Bible, as one may see when David -lay on his deathbed—I asked him how I could serve him, -in order that I might stay his abuse of that which he did -not understand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You may wonder,' he went on, 'that I choose to speak -in confidence to one that is but an esquire, and, I hear, as -ready with his sword in the quarrel as any of them. But at -least you are not like the rest, occupied entirely with the -safety of your own skin, and unwilling to look the matter in -the face.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him that I did not wonder at all that he was willing -to speak to me, for that I could keep my counsel truly and -well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Faith, and I believe that,' he cried, 'if it were only -your self-conceit of being able to do it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I understood not at all what he meant, for if there -is anything that I am conspicuously lacking in, it is this very -quality of self-conceit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hear ye, then, and mark well my words,' said the -Minister of Edinburgh. 'There is a man in this country who -is at the root of all the blood and all the slaughter, and who, -if he be not curbed, will yet do tenfold more mischief. Your -master thinks that he can bribe him to friendship; well, I am -no judge of men, if the man is to be bribed at any price -beneath the sole power and sway of all this wild country of -the west.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany that you mean,' said I, -for I own I was jealous of his good name, enemy though he -was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gilbert Kennedy is but a hammer in this man's hand. -Your good knight here at Culzean is but a spoon for him to -sup with. And the only man that sees through him (and -that but partially) is your joker-headed Earl, whose keen care -for the merks, the duties, and the tacks, makes him -somewhat clearer in the eye than the rest of you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And who is this plotter?' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He stopped and looked about him to see that none was -listening. Then he laid his lips almost to my ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He whispered a name which, in this place, I must not -write, though afterwards it will be plain enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is simply not possible,' said I; 'the man you mention -is but a bonnet laird, as one might say, with a peel-tower -and a holding of half-a-dozen crofts. Why, my master could -eat him up saltless, without turning out more than half a -parish of his fighting men.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nevertheless,' said Robert Bruce, 'that is the man who -stands behind and makes the miracles work, as in Popish days -the priests were wont to do behind the altar. Ye are but a -set of jigging fools here in Carrick, and the man that pipes -to you is the man I've told ye of!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I thought over the matter—all that I knew of -the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In truth,' said I, 'I am none so sure that you may not -be right.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert Bruce smiled as one that waxes aweary of a -babe's prattle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For,' said I, 'I mind that I heard him endeavour to -win one by promises to the side of Bargany—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pshaw,' said the Minister, 'he would as readily try to -win Bargany to the Earl's side, if it suited him to murder -them both together. It is his plan to make them fight -each other till there are none left—to cut off the heads of -the taller poppies as in the ancient tale of Rome. I tell -you this man has no side but his own, no desire but his -own profit, no end but to make himself supreme in Carrick.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what can I, that am but a squire and a youth, do -in the matter?' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are on the spot, Launcelot,' said the Minister, -kindly. 'I am in Edinburgh, and if things march as evilly -as they have been doing of late, it is likely I shall be even -further afield than Edinburgh. But you can watch—you -can judge whom it boots to warn. You can put in a -word—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I shall put in a sword,' said I, stamping my foot; 'put -it in deep—to think of such deceit and guile in a mere vassal -and understrapper of my lord's.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot,' said the Minister of Edinburgh, 'you begin -to make me sorry I trusted you. I should have spoken to a -graver man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, sir,' I said, 'you mistake me. I but mean that -if it came to the bitter bite of iron, the time for words -might go by.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' he replied thoughtfully, 'there is some sense in -that, but give not up the judicious words too early.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we betook ourselves gravely and staidly out of the -wood, and at bidding him farewell I received his benediction, -which he gave me with his right hand stretched out. And -though I am tall and stand as erect as any man, yet the -Minister of Edinburgh overtowered me by half a foot. But -I minded that not in him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I went to the castle armoury to bethink me, for after -what I had heard maids and bonnet strings were not to be -more in my thought that day.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-corbies-at-the-eagle-s-nest"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CORBIES AT THE EAGLE'S NEST</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>One snowy day, I mind it was a Thursday according to the -day of the week, I had ridden to Girvan by the shore road. -I journeyed unmolested save that one sent a shot after me -as I passed the tower of Girvanmains. But this not so -much, I think, with intent to do me an injury, as because -they saw my Cassillis colours, and could not let them pass -unchallenged by a yett of the Bargany folk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But upon my return I got one of the greatest surprises of -my life, for as I rode gladly into the courtyard of Culzean, -lo! there was my lord out on the steps, with the noble courtesy -and distinction which none could assume so well as he, being -indeed natural to him, bidding farewell to a pair of guests -whom I never looked to see in the courtyard of Culzean, -save as it might be coming in decently, heels first, for the -purposes of Christian burial.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The two strangers were John Mure of Auchendrayne and -the young Laird, his son. The old man was dressed as I first -saw him—in plain, fine cloth of blue without decoration. -He wore no arms or any armour that was visible—though -by the square setting of his body as he came down the steps -I judged that he wore a stand of chain mail underneath. -His son James, a cruel, loutish, hot-headed, but not wholly -ill-looking young man, was clad in the gayest fashion. He -wore the wide, falling lace collar which Prince Henry had -brought in from France, and a pointed doublet and wide -breeches of the newest English mode.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was John Mure who was speaking, for his son was -but a lout, and had little to say all the days of him. He -waved his hand to the steps, by the door of Culzean, -whereon there stood Marjorie Kennedy, with her arm on -Nell's shoulder, both being pale as death, and seeming more -dowie and sad than I had ever seen them look before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is to be the burying of strife,' cried Auchendrayne; -'in this loving cup I drink it. The day of our love is at -the dawning, and the auguries of the time to come are of -the happiest. To our next and sweeter merrymaking!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Sir Thomas, with his face one beaming smile of -pleasure, bade him a loving farewell, and told him to haste -back, for that cousins thus joined in affection could not be -too often together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all the while I sat Dom Nicholas as one that is -sunk fathoms deep in blank astonishment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As Auchendrayne rode through the gateway, he waved -his hand to me, and turning to Culzean, where he stood -looking after them, he cried in the hearing of them all,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You have there the handsomest and the boldest squire -in all the south country, Culzean. This is the bruit that I -hear of this young man everywhere I go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, still smiling and bowing, he rode away with his -son half a length of his horse behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I gave him no greeting, neither yea nor nay—but -regarded him with a fixed countenance. For my heart was -like stone within me, because of the sorrow that I saw -coming on the house and could noways prevent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now the bitterness of this winter did not come till some -time after the New Year. It was about the midst of -January when the frost bit most keenly, and the snow began -to fall most deeply. The Culzean lads, James, Alexander -and little David (who was my favourite), caused the court -and out-buildings to ring with happiness. Joy and peace -seemed indeed for a little to have come back to Culzean. -This was the first snow since David had donned the -trunks, and laid by the bairn's kilts—which are indeed -mortally cold wear in the winter season when it comes to -rolling in the snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>David, as I say, was my favourite, and continually in my -loneliness a comfort to me, though I have not hitherto often -mentioned him, seeing that the young lads of Culzean come -not into my tale greatly, saving at this time. Though, in -the coming day, they may into the tales others shall tell, -when we that now prank it so gaily are no better than the -broken shards of a drained pottle-pot. But little Davie was -a merry lad, and I am glad that there is occasion for me to -name him in this history.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Davie was now manfully equipped in doublet and -trunk hosen of duffle grey homespun, so thick that his -brothers feigned that with a little trouble and propping -they stood up very well by themselves, when their daily -tenant had untrussed him and gone to bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And ever the snow came down. It lay deep on all the -face of the country, but more especially it had swirled into -the courtyard of Culzean, so that the very steps of the door -were sleeked, and great wreaths lay every way about the -court. The lads made revel in it, borrowing shovels from -the stables and throwing up the snow on either side, so as -to make narrow passages between the different doors of the -castle and the offices about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I cannot set down, because that there is press of matters -more serious yet to be related, a tithe of the merry pranks -the rogues wrought in their madness. They revelled in the -smother of the snow like whelps that are turned loose. Yet -because there is none too much of merriment in this -chronicle, I shall make shift to tell somewhat of their -quipsome rascaldom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It chanced one morning that Alexander, who was of a -mirthful mind, stood by a little door which led into the -house wherein our peats and turfs were kept for the fires, -so that it might not be necessary to bring a supply each -day from the peatstacks on the hill where the greater store was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whether Sandy's head ached from having eaten too -many cakes at the time of the New Year, I know not, -but suddenly it came into his mind that it might be a -desirable thing and a cooling, to stick his bullet head into a -mighty snowdrift which lay in front of the peat-house door. -So accordingly, for no particular reason, he bent himself into -an arch and thrust his head neck-deep into the snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment came his elder brother, James Kennedy, -upon the scene, and his mood was also merry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bless the rascal,' quoth he, 'whither hath his tidy lump -of a top-knot betaken itself to?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So without loss of a moment the rogue made him a large -ball of snow, well compacted, and caused it to burst upon -the stretched trusses of Sandy's breeches, with a noise like -the breaking of an egg upon a wall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sandy snatched his head from the snow swift as a blade -that bends itself to the straight, and stood erect. There -was no one in sight save little Davie, who danced at a -distance and laughed innocently at the jest. For James, -the doer of it, had instantly dropped into a deep snow -passage. Whereat Sandy, cured as to his head, but -villainously stung in the breech, turned him about in fierce -anger, seeking for someone to truncheon. The lad Davie's -laugh annoyed him, and Sandy, being an adept at the palm -play, sent a snowball at his young brother, which took him -smartly upon the cheek.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Instantly Davie, poor callant, set up a cry of pain, which -brought his sister Nell upon the scene with all the furies in -the tangle of her hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye muckle, good-for-nothing calves!' she cried, -addressing both her unseen brothers, whom she well knew to -be lying hidden somewhere among the snow passages of the -courtyard, 'I will bring Launce Kennedy to you with a -knotty stick, and that by my father's orders—clodding at a -bairn that gate, and garring him greet. Ye think I canna -see ye, but if ye dinna come oot decently, I will come and -bring ye. Ye may think black shame o' yoursel's!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this I do not doubt that James and Sandy did. For -to be flyted upon by a lass, lying prone the while upon one's -stomach in a snow bank, does not make for self-respect. So -both the lads began to crawl away as best they might from -Nell's dangerous neighbourhood. It jumped greatly with -my humour to watch them from the upper window of the -armoury which looked abroad over the court. All unwitting -they approached the one to the other with their heads down, -and at the corner, each running with full speed upon his -hands and knees, they knocked their skulls together soundly, -with a well-resounding crack which pleased me. Instantly -they clinched and fought like wild cats, biting and fisting in -the snow—till their father, attracted from the hall by the -noise, came down and laid upon them both right soundly, -with the great whip wherewith the dogs were beaten when -they were trained for hunting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this was excellent sport to me, but the best was yet -to come. In a little thereafter I saw Nell, who was a merry -lass when there was nothing upon her mind, come quietly -out of the side door that led to the kitchen places, with -David in her hand. She set him within a small flanking -tower, which in old days had been loop-holed for arrows. -Then she locked the door upon him, taking the key with -her. Before she went she handed the boy two or three -snowballs made from the wet, slushy snow, where the -sunshine had caused some drops to melt off the roof and fall -from the eaves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus she went to the corner, I watching with joy the -while from the window of the armoury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jamie, Sandy,' she cried, 'come hither, lads. There's -something here for your private ear!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At first the boys would not move, still smarting and -sulky from their father's training-whip. But in a little they -came, and Nell enticed them with the repeated promise of -'something for their private ear' (the artful minx!), till she -had them exactly opposite the little window where David -was posted with his weapons of offence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly from the arrow-slot there came a discharge of -artillery. The providence that helps the weak put pith and -fusion into little David's arm. As though it had been the -smooth stone of the brook that sped whizzing to the brazen -front of Goliath, the first moist shot of David's ordnance -plumped with a splash into the ear of Sandy. In an instant -I lay upon the floor in the laughter which comes only from -beholding silly things. For there below me were James and -Sandy Kennedy each dancing upon the point of their shoon, -and with their little fingers digging in their several ears -to excavate from thence the well-compacted slush wherewith -little David had taken his fitting revenge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor was the occupation made easier for them by the -vexatious commentaries of their sister Nell, who repeated -over and over again to them, between her bursts of laughter, -'Did I not tell you that if ye came to the corner of the -tower ye would get something for your private ear? This -will learn you to let wee Davie alane!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="bairns-play"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">BAIRNS' PLAY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>There remains yet one other of their pranks to be told, and -that only because it is knit into the story, and so must be -unravelled along with it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pair of elders, after this defeat at the hands of Nell -and little David, took counsel together, and might sooner have -hit upon something to their mind, but that James, as was -usual with him, stood in an attitude of cogitation, having his -mouth very wide open. Whereat Sandy, whose wits were -brighter, could not, even for the sake of the alliance between -them, refrain from dropping therein a snowball which he had -ready in his hand for any purpose that might arise. This he -did with the same neatness and adroitness with which he -would have dropped a ball of worset yarn, when the caps -were on the green for the game royal of Bonnet-Ba'.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It took some time and a mighty deal of struggling on -the ground before this treachery between friends could be -arranged. Also much thrusting of snow down the backs of -doublets and holding it there till it melted—together with -other still more unseemly and uncomfortable proceedings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the reconciled allies entered the castle together, -promising peace, and fell into talk with young Davie, who -stood within the great door in the inviolate safety of the -hall.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do you want a merk?' said Sandy, tempting him with -the sight of one, which at that day was great wealth. 'It -will buy store of peaches, and pears, and baked apples at -Baillie Underwood's in the High Street, preserved cherries -also, and marmalit of plums.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then said Davie, 'A merk I want, indeed, as does -everyone, but you are not the fellow to give it me. Therefore -quit your pother, for I know that you would only make -friends to get me apart, and so work mischief upon me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A wise boy David.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As I live I lie not,' said Sandy, taking a great oath. 'I -will give you the merk, if ye go down after dark to the -barn, and passing through the great door to the lesser door -at the back, shut and bolt it with its bar of oak, and so return -the way ye went. If ye do this, sure as death, I lie not, I -will give you the merk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Little David, who had ofttimes been deceived of his -brothers, considered upon the offer a while, and at last he -said to Sandy,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As sure as death ye might lie, though twice ye have -said it; but give the merk into the keeping of Launce -Kennedy, that will not tell lies, at least not for such freits, -and then I will take your dare, and go shut the further -door of the barn.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They came up therefore to me to the armoury, James, -Sandy and David all together; and as soon as I heard them -coming I went from the window and sat by the fire, that -they might not suspect I had observed aught of their matters. -Then, when they revealed the plot to me, I bade Sandy be -careful what he did, for it was growing dark, and I -misdoubted that they meant to fright the child. So I feared -them with the threat of their father, and as little David -lingered while his brothers went lumbering and shouting -down the armoury stair, I put into his hand a short -blackthorn cudgel which the young Sheriff of Galloway had -brought with him over from Ireland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If ye see anything more than common, hit it as hard as -ye can with that,' I bade him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so little David passed out. I could not see him far -across the yard because of the fall of the gloaming, but on -his return, all a-drip of sweat and in a quivering tremble of -agony, he told me what had befallen him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was bitter cold,' he said, 'and I will not say that I -was not feared, for I was. Yet, so long as the door stood -ajar, there came a ray of light through it, and my heart was -cheered. But presently it was shut to, and I had all the -way to go alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I heard the cows in the byre rattling at their hemps -through the rings, and as I kenned, pulling at the meadow -hay in their stalls. And that at least was some company. -So I went on and the frosty snow squeaked under my feet. -I came to the great door of the barn. It stood open, vast -and terrible as the mouth of a giant's cave. But I thought -of the marmalit of plums, and in I went with my heart -gulp—gulping high in my throat.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I nodded at the little fellow, for many a time had I felt -the same, and said nothing about it—when I was much -younger, of course.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So,' said he, 'I went through the barn in which was -such hay and straw, till I came to the midst of it. Here -I stopped to listen, for I could hear a noise, indeed many -noises. However, it was only the black rattons firsling -among the straw. I felt a thousand miles away from -home, an orphan, and very lonely—nor did thinking on -marmalit of plums now bring comfort—at least, none to -speak of.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, nevertheless, because I thought of the taunting -and japing of James and Sandy, I took my way to the -further door that looketh upon the old orchard. The -black corn-stacks shut out many of the stars, but those -that were left tingled and shone cold. I thought I had no -friend nearer than one of these. I was much afraid.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yet nevertheless I shut the back door and barred it—barred -it good and strong with both bolts, and set a corn-measure -at the back for luck. This being done, I turned and -took but one step towards the great door, through which I -could see the snow shining like a mist. Then my heart -stopped, and I tried to cry out very loud, but, alas! I could -not cry out at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For there was Something in the doorway. I could see -it against the snow. Something that crawled on the ground -with dull, horrid eyes, set wide apart, and that turned a -shapeless, horned head slowly from side to side, moaning and -yammering the while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thought I should die. Then I feared that I should -not die before the thing took me, for it slowly invaded the -barn till it filled all the doorway. By this I knew that I -should indeed be devoured. Nevertheless, I minded what -it was you said before I went. So I thought that, having -a stout stick in my hand, I might as well die after having -smitten a good stroke as not—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bravo, young David!' cried I; 'that is the right -spirit of battle.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So I took the blackthorn in both hands,' he went on, -'and swung it about my head as you showed me in the -hagging down of trees. With that I struck the horrible -thing fairly between the eyes. Then leaping over it I ran, -how I know not, for the house door—where I laughed and -wept time about till Nell brought me here that you might -bid me stop. Now I want the merk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I gave him the merk, took down the dog-whip from -the nail where it hung, and went out to look for Jamie and -Sandy—for well I knew that this had been one of their -tricks to frighten the boy, and I was resolved that they -should take a thrashing, either from me or, what they would -less desire, from their father—who, though a kind enough -man till he began to lay on, was apt to be carried away with -the exercise, and to forget bowels of mercy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when I got upon the snow by the door, Sandy came -running to me, fairly crying out with terror. He had the -hide of a muckle bullock, which had been killed that day, -trailing from his waist. His face, in the light that fell from -the lamp in the hall, was a sight to be seen. There was a -lump on his brow, between the eyes, as large (to a nearness) -as a hen's egg. All his face was a-lapper with blood, so -that for the moment I thought that the lad had really been -killed. But when I pulled him up to the armoury, and got -him washed, I found that the blood was only that of the -bullock, whose hide he had wrapped about him in order -that he might crawl on the ground and fright his brother -David.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I had there and then taken him to task with the -dog-whip (for indeed he might have bereft the child of -reason), but the sight of his own wordless terror smote upon -me, so that I desisted—for that time at least.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For a while Sandy could not speak by reason of the fear -which blanched his face, and caused him to hold by my -coat even when I went across the room. At last however -he found tongue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is a man,' he stammered, 'a man with a drawn -sword, standing at the barn end in a grey cloak, and a wild -beast crouching beside him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Barley-break, flim-flam,' said I, for I believed not a word -of it, 'your head is muzzy with your carrying the bullock's -head and horns, and serve you right had David given you -a warble on it twice as big.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' gasped Sandy, 'it is not fantasy. I saw the man -clearly. He stood against the sky in a grey cloak, and the -beast crouched and held a lanthorn by him. Oh, Launce, I -fear I have seen the Black Man, and that I shall die.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Seen your granny's hippen-clouts!' said I, roughly, -for I was angry at his senselessness. 'Lay raw beef to your -beauty-spot, my man, sleep here with me, and I will forgive -you the licking with the dog-whip.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So by little and little I got Sandy soothed down till he -went to sleep on my bed, moaning and tossing the while. -Then I set me down to think, alone, on the window-sill -above the courtyard, for I had long since handed David over -to the care of Nell. Sometimes for convenience, I slept -in the armoury, for Sir Thomas had trusted me with -everything since I had proved myself in the wars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw well that evil was somehow intended against the -house of Culzean, and that something terrible walked in -darkness. I resolved that I should find out what it was or -die. Yet I liked not stealthy adventure so much as plain -cut and thrust, and wished that I had had Robert Harburgh -with me. But I knew that, though brave as a lion, he -somewhat lacked discretion, and so might spoil all. There -was nothing for it, therefore, but to go out alone.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="fighting-the-beasts"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">FIGHTING THE BEASTS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Having shut and locked the armoury door behind me, I -stood a great while very still on the steps in the black -shadow; for nothing could I see, though I looked till my -eyes ached. So I set out with my sword bare in my hand, -and my left hand hafting an easily-drawn dagger. I declare -if I had only known for certain that the thing which -troubled the house was naught but flesh and blood, I had -not cared the tickling of a Flemish poulet. For I was -growing to rejoice in adventure, believing that my own luck -was to win through in safety whatever might befall to -others. Indeed I never loved a leg-lagging, grease-collecting -life, like that of a burgher or a cellarer. But rather to strip -and lay on till the arm dirls with striking—that is, in a just -cause, of course. Although sometimes, if your chief so -command, one must strike without inquiring with too -queasy a conscience, like a mere yea-forsoothing knave, -what may be the cause for which ye are set to drive the -steel. For it is soldierly to strike first and inquire the cause -after—that is, if the man live.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I ride the wild mare whenever I lay the reins on -the neck of my goose-quill. And since I love to keep the -pages even and the lines straight, anything that will serve -to fill up the tale of my day's doing goes down. But -pleasant writing maketh not always good or full-mattered -reading.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stood therefore awhile outside the armoury door and saw -only the drifted snow and the line of white roofs against a -dark sky. So, having little hope of discovery by waiting like a -dancer outside a ring, I stepped lightly down, being shod in -soft double hosen without leathern shoon, so that my feet made -no noise on the frosty snow. About the house I stole, gliding -from shelter to shelter, till I came to the edge of the cliff, -where I could hear, but not see, the breaker waves crisping -and clapping upon the shore. At such a time the sea is -black. But so much blacker was the night that I saw it -not even when I looked straight down upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Turning, I made the circuit of the castle, but still found -nothing. Then I minded me how it was by the barn that -Sandy had seen the vision which had affrighted him. So I -set teeth and gripped blade tighter, and took my way to -the barn door. It stood wide and vacant, gaping at me like -an open sepulchre.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I will admit that it required all my courage boldly to -go in, for it is hard to enter that which is the blackness of -darkness to you, with the knowledge that all the while you -stand the fairest of targets in the doorway. But because, as -my father had told me, it is ever better to pursue than to -flee, I stepped within with elbow crooked for the thrust, and -dagger arm cleared of the cloak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was as silent in the barn as elsewhere. I did not -even hear the rats of which my little David had spoken. I -began to think that I had been as needlessly and as childlessly -alarmed as he. Then all at once and quite clearly I -heard voices speaking together at the outer corner of the -granary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I went near to a convenient wicket that I might -listen, and my very heart and life chilled and thickened, -because that the voices were those of our Marjorie and -someone else who spoke low and sober—not quick and -high like Gilbert Kennedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then was my heart full of disgust that I should find her -whom I had loved and worshipped engaging in another -midnight tryst, and one that might be no better than a paltry -intrigue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So angered was I that I stole to the door, meaning to -break out upon them in violent speech, caring little in mine -anger what should happen. But as I came to the edge of -the hard-beaten threshing-floor, Marjorie Kennedy came to -the door swiftly. Turning in front of the barn, and standing -with the shawl thrown back from her head, she spoke to -the man she had left, whom as yet I saw not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Remember,' she said, 'I promise no more than the bare -fact. I tell you I choose the grave before a bride-bed, the -worm before such a husband!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the man to whom she spoke uttered no word, -though he had come nearer to where in the dusk of the -doorway I stood with my sword bare in my hand. I could -see him plainly now—all but his face, for the tide of darkness -was on the ebb. He was the tall, cloaked man whom we -knew as the Grey Man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Behind him, at the angle of the wall, crouched a black -mass which yet was human—because, even as I looked, it -took something from under a coat, and rose erect beside the -Grey Man. As Marjorie vanished these two figures moved -towards my hiding-place in the barn. I had no time to -do more than glide within, pull a sheaf or two from the -mow, and thrust myself, like a sword into its scabbard, -within the hole I had made amid the piled grain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even as I looked, their dark figures filled up the square -of greyness which the open barn door made against the -snow. I saw them enter, feeling with their hands, as though -to grasp something, yet not making any light to guide them -in finding it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then indeed I was disquieted, and my very bones became -as water within me. For if there is anything trying to the -flesh of mortal man, it is to lie still and be groped for in the -dark by unknown and horrible enemies. I had a nightmare -sense of powerlessness to move, of impotence in the face of -peril. I knew that when the blind groping inhuman horror -took me by the throat, I should not be able even to cry out. -It was like a dream of fever made real.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A moment after I heard a man's voice speak in a -fierce whisper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, here it is! Give me your hand and put strength -to it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then in a moment, like the breaking of a dam, the fear -quite went from me. They were but common-place robbers -after all, and I a craven and a coward to lie still while my -master's goods were being stolen before my eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I leaped out upon them without waiting to think, for I -was not feared of a dozen such.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hold!' I cried. 'Stand for your lives, gutter-thieves, -or I will run you through!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stood in the doorway with my sword and dagger in -hand, and as soon as I felt one come against the point of my -blade, I let him have it with all my might, for it was not a -time for half-measures. Then, though I heard the answering -cry of wounding, there was no time for further action, -for something came at me with a rush like a wild beast of -the wood, and the snarl of the springing heather cat. Now -there are many things that a lad of eighteen or nineteen -may do—things of worth and daring—but he cannot stand -against the weight of a strong and well-grown man when -he leaps upon him. Therefore I cannot count it to my -shame that now I was overcome and overborne. Once and -again was I smitten, till I felt the iron, as it had been fire, -strike me here and there. And though I felt no pain, there -was something warm, which I divined to be my own blood, -running down. Then I knew no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I awoke I was in the Grieve's house, lying on a -bed. Sir Thomas Kennedy, my master, and the Earl -himself were bending over me. They had unclasped my -hand, and now stood back in wonderment at what they -found gripped in it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is the key of the treasure chest of Kelwood—the -key with my father, the King of Carrick's seal graven upon -it! Where could the lad have gotten it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet of a certainty they had taken it out of my -tightly-clenched hand, which had been fixed upon something ever -since they found me on the barn threshing-floor, where I lay -senseless in a pool of my own blood.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-secret-of-the-caird"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SECRET OF THE CAIRD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was, I can avouch, a strange experience for me to lie on -my back in the Grieve's house all through the long days of -spring and summer. Kate Allison and her mother were -tirelessly kind. The Grieve himself generally set his head -past the door as he went and came from his meals, crying -mayhap something of the day—that 'it was warm,' or that it -was 'a wat yin,' and thinking it the height of a jest to -say to me, 'An' what kind o' weather hae ye below the -blankets?' For with kindly-natured country folk a little jest -goes a great way, and serveth as long without washing as a -pair of English blankets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then in the forenoon Sir Thomas would come in from -the castle, opening the hallan door and walking across the -Grieve's kitchen as unceremoniously as he would have done in -his own house.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My lad, they have made a hand of you, but we will -dowse them yet for that!' was one of his stated encouragements -to me. 'Let me see the clours—hoot, man, they will -never mar you on your marriage day!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so, kindly and smiling, he would pass out again, -walking with his hands behind his back as far as I could see -him along the arches of the woodland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then would Marjorie come to the door, and inquire for -me of good Mistress Allison. But she never accepted of -her hearty invite to remain—or, at least, to enter and see the -invalid. Gently would she ask after my well-being, and -being assured of it, as gently would she go her way—her -fair face looking so white and sorrowful the while, that I -was wae for her, and for the unkenned secrets of her heart -into which God forbid that I should pry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that which cheered me most, I think, was the kindness -and warm-heartedness showed me without stint, both by -Nell Kennedy and Kate Allison. They were no longer -flighty and sharp of tongue in speaking to me, but rather -spoke freely and sat much in the kitchen, with the door of -my room open so that I could see them, nipping and scarting -at one another like kittens in their wantonness, which -was a great diversion and encouragement to me on my -weary bed. And there we had no little merriment, for -Nell Kennedy would be saucy and miscall me for my -laziness and sloth—also for my lack of appetite, which she -called 'dainty and dorty,' meaning thereby that I wanted -finer meats than they had to give me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Also, though she was no maid for gossip, Nell would -bring me all the clash of the castle-town and farm-town, all -the talk that was gone over in the mill, while the thirlage -men waited for their grist. Where she got it to tell me -I cannot imagine, but it was all like sweet wine to me that -could hear naught most of the day and night, but the birds -singing without and Mistress Allison clattering wooden -platters within.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Also (and that was the kindliest thing she could have -done, and touched my heart most of all), she brought to me -all my war-harness and accoutrements. My sword, which -she had cleaned herself after the scuffle in the barn; the -dagger I had dropped when I caught and clutched the key -of the Kelwood treasure, wherever that had been gotten—the -pistols; the fine new hackbutt which had just come -from the town of Ayr, and which Sir Thomas had given me -for mine own, as he would have given a child a toy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give the bairn its plaiks, then,' said Nell, as she laid -them on the bed. 'Would it love to play with them? -Then it shall!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She spoke in an enticing and babyish way that diverted -me, and warmed me too, when I thought she had so much -kindliness for me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I said, 'It is monstrously well done of you thus to -divert me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hoots,' she said, 'see what else I have brought you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that she took from her pocket all the -apparatus of cleaning my pieces and sword, besides the links -and buckles of Dom Nicholas's harness and equipment, the -sight of which put me in a fever to see him again. Never -was anything kindlier done. Also, she brought me from her -father's scanty library such books as she thought I might -care to read; though, indeed, I read but little, never -having been greatly given to lear—save, as it might be, -books of songs, troll-catches, wits' recreations and such like.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But amongst others she brought me a French manual of -fence, which gave me infinite pleasure. For with her help I -could spell out the instructions, and the plates of positions I -was fain to imitate with my two rapiers, till I had hacked -and scarred all the four posts of the bed most grievously. -And Mistress Allison declared that it was not safe for -anyone to come within the outer door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But one day my bed-fast practice-at-arms stood mine -hostess in good stead, for which afterwards she gave me full -thankfulness. It chanced on a certain noontide of heat that -all were at the hayfield. Even Kate and Nell had gone to -toss the hay, which is a pleasant thing to do in good company, -but, i' faith, ill enough to think on as I lay tossing my weary -body, and cursing the luck that tied me here in a dull -room—vexed with heat, the weight of bedclothing, and the broad -buzzing flies which would light on the corner of one's nose, -each time that sleep was on the verge of flapping down -silently with his black wings to bring a welcome shortening -of the weary hours. Mistress Allison stole about the -kitchen on bare, broad feet, flapping and slapping the flags -with them as she carried her cakes to the girdle plate, or -swung it from the cleek above the clear baking fire of -brown peats. She thought me asleep, for I had cleaned all -my arms till I could see myself sitting up in bed, with my -pale face and towsed haystack of a head, in every square -inch of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Kate had brought me that day a book called </span><em class="italics">The Whole -Duty of Pilgrims</em><span>, but finding it full of religious reflections -and not tales of the Crusaders as I had hoped, I laid it aside -for the Sabbath day, as being more reverent and fitting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All at once the outer door of the Grieve's house was -thrown back on its hinges, and a great sturdy caird -entered—mayhap an Egyptian sorner, or bold robber, such as -were vexing the realm at the time, or perhaps only a -common muddy rascal of the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mistress, I bid you good-day,' he said. 'I am hungry -and would have meat!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Plain and quite short he said it—even as I have written -it down.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In this Grieve's house of Culzean even gentry folk -say "An it please you," and "By your leave!"' replied, -with some indignation, the mistress of the dwelling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But then I will e'en help myself, without please or -leave either,' cried the villain. And with that he opened -a leathern wallet that he had slung over his shoulder, and -began to thrust therein, not only the scones, but anything -about the dresser and tables that his thievish fancy lit upon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, mistress,' said he; 'let me have any siller you -have in the house, and a well-pleased kiss of your -weel-faured moo' therewith, or else I must do my needs with -you!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that he opened a great gully knife, as though he -would run at her. Mistress Allison cried out with a strange -cry of woman's fear, which I who had been in battle never -heard the like of before. Just at this moment I pushed -the bedroom door open with the point of my toe, and sat -there looking straight at the man, with a pistol bended in -each hand, and both of them trained point blank on the -rascal's heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I make bold to say that in all this realm of Scotland -there was not any man so exceedingly astonished as this -particular sturdy thief at that moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Drop the knife, sirrah!' I commanded, as one that -cries his orders in a battle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the knife rang obediently on the stone floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kick it into the corner with your foot— No, not -with your hand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And reluctantly he kicked the knife away from him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, my excellent good man,' said I, 'sit you down -and put your hands behind you. There and thus, be still -where you are, quite in the middle of the floor and not -elsewhere.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he sat him down, and, keeping my pistols dead upon -him, I bade Mistress Allison tie his hands firmly with cord, -and give him a settle to lean against. Thereafter I comforted -him with stern philosophy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him of his wandering and uncertain life. I showed -him conclusively how that he went ever in danger of the -hangman's whip, and that at the end there could only be -awaiting for him a shameful death. I told him also that our -overlord of Culzean had the power of pit and gallows, and -that, on the return of the haymakers, he should be brought -out—when in an hour there would be an end of all his -misery upon the dule-tree, or tree of execution, which stands -by the great gate and bears medlars at any season, but only -for an hour at a time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>''Tis the most cruel and unjust treatment of poor, beset, -far wandering men!' said the man on the floor. They were -the first words he had spoken since he threw down his knife. -I wondered he could speak so well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We have heard no complaints, so far,' I made answer, -drily, for the man's former insolence stuck in my throat. -And in especial the thought of what might have happened -to mine hostess or the maids, had I not been there upon the -bed with my weapons beside me. So I kept him in torment -of mind for a space.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, as the afternoon ebbed away, and the hour of -sundown and homecoming wore on, his anxiety waxed pitiful. -He turned and twisted to free his hands, so that the only -way I could quiet him was to lift a pistol and point it at him. -But even that did not appear to soothe him for any length of -time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he raised his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Master,' said he, sullenly, but speaking not that ill, 'ye -have me, I grant, in the cleaving of a stick. Now I will -tell you a thing you greatly desire to know. Will ye promise -to let me go, and I will never meddle you more?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do not mean that you should,' said I, 'nevertheless, what -is the thing that you can tell me? And when I know, I -shall judge its worth—on the honour of a gentleman.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I can tell you,' said he, 'where you will find the -treasure of Kelwood!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What bald-crowned blethers!' I cried scornfully. -'Pray, how am I to know that you speak the truth? Ye -may tell me that it is with the gold cup, at the end of the -rainbow!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is true,' said the man, 'I might lie to you; but I will -not, for I need my life. It is sweet to me as yours to you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How can such a life be sweet?' I asked, daffing with -the man in my power—which was 'bad form,' as John Mure -himself sayeth in his history of the troubles.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is not a time to argue,' said he, 'but my life is as -pleasant as the trees that toss their branches, and as the free -life of the forest.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Too free altogether,' said I, 'thus to come in and threaten -the life and honour of a decent woman. We must have such -freedom trussed and stretched on a tow rope.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I did but fright her,' said he, sullenly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That is as may be,' replied I, keeping my pistol trained -for his left eye-hole, 'and in any case it will be all the same -in two hours.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But,' said he, 'hear me concerning the treasure of -Kelwood. Ye have conquest the key. I can tell you -where the box itself is. For if I win clear this time, I must -escape over seas from the vengeance of the Grey Man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But you may lie even as you have stolen, and I fear me -murdered also, for by your talk you are one of a murderous -set.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of the lying you must e'en take your chance—even as, -after telling you, I must take my chance of your cutting my -bonds and letting me go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You have a gentleman's word,' I answered him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And how much is that worth in Carrick this day,' he -said harshly and bitterly, 'even with a bond to back it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mine,' said I, with what dignity I could muster, 'is -worth as much as truth itself'—which, I grant, was but a -windy saying.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I believe it, and I will trust it,' said he. 'The treasure -of Kelwood is in the cave of Sawny Bean, on the seashore -of Bennanbrack, over against the hill of Benerard.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And not another word would he say.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when Mistress Allison had locked herself in the milk-house, -and advised me that the haymakers were in full sight, -I caused my man to roll himself to the door of the bedroom. -There with my sword I cut the bonds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now,' said I, 'take the door sharply, without so much -as going to the other side for your bundle or your knife, and -then the woods are open to you and the world wide.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thank you, master,' he said civilly. 'When you go for -the treasure, I counsel you do not call on Sandy by your -leasome lane.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that caution he betook himself into the glades -of the wood.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="mine-ancient-sweetheart"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MINE ANCIENT SWEETHEART</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>After he was gone I cast about in my mind, and, for the -life of me, I could not decide whether the fellow had been -lying to me or not. It was indeed a thing to be wondered -at, how this chance scoundrel should know (what I had -thought known only to my Lord of Cassillis and my master) -that after the fight in the barn I had carried away, clenched -in my hand, the key of the treasure chest of Kelwood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, as was natural after this encounter, the goodwife -of the Grieve's house could not make enough of me. Indeed, -if anything, she made too much of me, for, instead of -suffering her daughter and Nell to entertain me as before, while -she went about her work, she thought it her duty as soon -as one of them came in and sat down, to leave that which -she was about, and come and sit with us for company. -Now Mistress Allison was a good woman and agreeable of -her tongue, but I did not feel the necessity for this byordinar -kindness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet it was not easy to alter it. Then in the evenings -came Robert Harburgh to see me. At first he came once -a week while my wounds kept me weak and fretful. Then, -as I grew better, he came twice. And when I was able to -sit up, it came about that he would arrive every night and -bide till bedtime—so that at last I was almost shamed to have -him sitting there, and feared that he might be burdensome -to Kate Allison and her mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Robert Harburgh had but little to say, but he ever -looked and proved kindly. Also he brought me many -things from Maybole and elsewhere—oranges and wine -that had been shipped to Irvine from foreign parts, -neckerchiefs also for Kate and her mother. A quiet, -down-looking fellow was Robert, something dull of the -uptake, and with little to say for himself; but a most -noble sworder, and wholly without care for his body -when it came to the fighting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now it seems a strange thing that I, who had so long -played the lover to Kate Allison, should be laid by the heels -in her father's house, hearing the whip and frisk of her gown -about the chambers all the day. And I still loved to hear it, -for she was a bonny lass—and kind, kind to me. Also her -eyes were pleasant, and had both mischief and tears in -them—not like Nell Kennedy's, that held only mischief -and scorn—save once, as it seemed to me, a little while -when I was deadly fevered, and when Dr Low of Ayr, -the Earl of Cassillis's own physician, ordered me -herb-drinks, and shook his doting wiseacre's head over me like -a most melancholious billy-goat. Then for a little Nell's -eyes were quiet and sorrowful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it did not last. For by the time that I could get -a scheme laid to take advantage of the gleam of kindness, -she was again but mine own ill-set lassie-boy of a Nell, -and we were throng at the sparring and quarrelling just -as usual. But, as I say, Kate Allison was wondrously -kind to me. Many a night when the weather was hot, -and my wounds paining me as though they would break -again open, would she sit by me with clear caller water -from the spring, tirelessly changing the soft linen cloths. -And when the drops of fever-sweat stood on my brow, she -would touch them gently away, and lay her own cool -cheek against my forehead. Ay, and when I put my -hand up and drew down her face, she would kiss me right -frankly upon the lips. Yet, as I judged, not quite as of old. -But I thought it might be the illness that made the difference, -for with being sick in body and feverish in mind, nothing -tastes the same. And so I thought it might be also with kisses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But after I had grown stronger, I shall ever mind me -of one night when I got a horrid awakening. It was a -quiet gloaming. Kate Allison and I had the house to -ourselves—to which, speaking for myself, I did not wholly -object. I lay stretched upon the long oaken settle, on -cushions which Nell Kennedy had brought from the great -house. Kate sat beside me on a stool and leaned an -elbow on the oak's edge. She was unwontedly silent, and -sometimes I touched her cheek lightly with my hand. It -was a most pleasant night, and my mind was full of pity -and consideration for her. I bethought me that, though -doubtless I could have looked higher, I might do worse -in time than think of settling down with a sweet and -pleasant lass like Kate Allison. It was also touching to -me that she should never have wavered from loving me, all -the time that I had been forgetting her and thinking of -others. But that, I said to myself, is the way of women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were silent a great while, with the silence that -needs no speech, and my heart had grown melting and -kindly to the young lass, even as it had been in old days. -All of a sudden she spoke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launce,' said she, 'I'm going to be married!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She never moved her head off my shoulder, leaning with -her elbow on the edge of the settle, and looking away from me -out at the door. Neither did she draw her hand from mine, -but rather settled it the more kindly, nestling it in my palm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet anyone might have knocked me off the oaken settle -with a straw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Married!' said I. 'Ay, Kate, lass, of course you are -going to be married. 'Tis what you and I must come to. -I assure you I oftentimes have been thinking about that. -There are not the makings of an old maid about you!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This I said and waited for the answer of her eyes, in -order to laugh again and make my jest. But she did not -look at me. I do not think she heard me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am to be married on Thursday!' she said calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kate Allison!' I said, trying to turn up her head that -I might look into her eyes. I thought to see the -make-believe in them. But as women know how to do, she evaded -me without seeming to be conscious of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why, Kate Allison, sweetheart!' said I, 'how can I be -ready by Thursday, laid here on my back, with only you to -care for me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am to be married on Thursday to Robert Harburgh!' -she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I drew my hand away, and sat as erect and stern -as the settle and my sickness would let me, for it is hard -to appear dignified and like a soldier, lying on a couch and -wrapped in women's shawls.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am deceived!' cried I, 'mine own familiar friend, in -whom I trusted, has betrayed me, coming to steal that -which was dear to me when I lay most weak and weary.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I think I made as if to rise, for I had an idea that -I must go and get my sword—though what for, I cannot -now imagine. But Kate Allison gently put me back on the -pillows, and sat down beside me, taking one of my hands again, -laying it against her cheek, and drawing at the same time her -stool nearer to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tried to withdraw my hand from hers, but being weak -she masterfully kept it, so that the tears sprang to my eyes -for very helplessness and anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You have played with me and deceived me, Kate -Allison,' I cried, as soon as I could command my voice; -'you have forgotten the old days and all that we were to -one another.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless Kate Allison never winced but let me say -my say out. And by this I knew that the old days were -gone indeed. She was mightily set in her mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launce,' she said gently, 'Launce, dear sweetheart, -hearken—I am fond of you. No lass in Carrick but would -like you for a lad and a lover, even for your very feults, -which are what all may see.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What she might have meant I have even yet no idea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye are perfect for a lad that comes courting, and I -liked ye fine—ay, and like ye yet. But I saw lang syne that -the lads that court best are not the men that marry best.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Women are all traitors!' said I, with indignation -tingling through my body; 'they kiss and they forget. And -then in a trice they go kiss another—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' replied Kate Allison, with a little more gravity, -'and I mean to have a short word with you on that very -thing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused for a moment, and looked staidly and -thoughtfully out of the window. I believed at nineteen that I -wholly understood all women. But now I know that when -I am twice that and more, the simplest seeming of them will -be able to wrap me in her daidly-apron, and sell me in the -market for green cabbage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Listen, Launce, my dear,' she said. 'I was but a -Grieve's lass, and not unbonny of my face, so you courted -me. You longed after kissing, being a heartsome lad with -a way with you and a glint in your e'e. And so you kissed -me, and in my youth and folly I said ye not nay. But you -went over the hill to the Boreland and you kissed Grace, -and you kissed the lass at the house of the Red Moss—and -you thought that I would never know it. And more, you -expected that none else should ever come near to kiss me. -Ay, and would have waxed mightily indignant and flashed a -brave sword had any dared, for that is the excellent way of -the lads that come courting—but not at all the way of the -men that wise women marry.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was mazed and confounded before her, but could not -answer a word, for the thing was as true as if she had read -my heart. Where had the young lass so learned the ways of -men?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Forgotten your kisses, Launce?' she went on. 'And -what of them? I count kisses but as the X's and O's that -bairns make on the flags with soft cam stone—gone when -the game is over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The home-coming from the fair at Maybole and the -kisses that you and I then kissed,' said I, bitterly, 'were these -X's or O's? I rede ye tell me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launce,' said Kate Allison, 'we dreamed a pleasant -dream, you and I. We have awaked. It is a new day. -We wash the night fantasies off our faces, and are ready to -meet the morning with the sunshine in our eyes. Together -we have sipped the cream. It is time to drink the milk. -We have gathered the flowers—let us look to the fruit.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kate,' said I, more kindly, 'when did you think all these -things?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the lassie made me marvel with the aptness of her -speech, and ashamed with her plain saying of things that I -had hardly named within myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' she said gently and wisely, 'the thoughts of a lass -when a lad comes courting her, are more than she tells with -her mouth. For many a kiss is honey-sweet on the lips, but -bitter as gall in the heart. Yet so has it not been with -yours and mine. We loved and we part, even as the -way-gaun of the wind that kissed the apple blossom in the -spring when the year was young and glad.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She made to rise from her seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I must go,' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To go meet Robert Harburgh and to kiss him. I -thought I knew his whistle!' said I, with my heart raging -angry and disconsolate in spite of her fine words, which I -could not answer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' she said, rising and setting her lips tenderly to my -brow, which I pettishly turned away, being weakly sullen, -'even so—to meet Robert Harburgh and to kiss him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that she passed to the door. She turned ere -she went out to say a last word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you, Launce, my lad, will also one day desire to -leave kissing comfits and find abiding love. And you need -not go far afield to look for it either.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus I was left alone with a heaving heart. And I am not -ashamed to say that I wept bitterly for poor Launce Kennedy, -who had none to care for him in all the wide lone world, in -which he was now so sore wounded and cast aside like an -old shoe or a broken sword.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even as I wept and pitied myself, Nell Kennedy -danced in, merry as the morn, and brought a great spray of -belated hawthorn to set in a dish of water to keep the room -sweet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I declare I never knew the young lass look so -winsome before.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-marriage-made-in-hell"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A MARRIAGE MADE IN HELL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When Robert Harburgh came in to see me in the evening, -I was chill enough in my reception; but since he was of a -calm temper, though so great a sworder, I might just as -well have embraced him, for all the difference it made -to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So,' I said, without giving him more than time to sit -down—for all my days I must ever fly headlong at a thing -and have done with it—'so you are going to marry Kate -Allison?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She was proposing so,' said he, as calmly as when he -had walked across the yard to the summer-house, with the -hackbutt bullets splattering about him and the guns going -crack-crack down the hedgerows, like the thumbs of a class -of bairns when the dominie asks a question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So,' said I. 'And you were thinking, maybe, that -that was the action of a friend when your comrade was laid -by the heels?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I was thinking so,' said he, looking out of the window -at the trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did you not know,' I cried, for I was angered beyond -words, being weak, and taking ill with the cherry being -thus snatched out of my mouth, 'did you not know that -Kate Allison was my lass before she was yours? Did she -not tell you that?' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, had I been myself, I should not thus have told -left-handed tales on a lass, even though I believed with some -reason that she had deceived me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I was not deprived of the sight of my eyes,' said he, -very quietly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you mean by that—?' said I, trembling with -anger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That I did not need telling that you had been courting -the lass off and on for a year or twa, and that she took -it not ill.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And, in spite of that, you made up to Kate Allison -when I was lying sick unto death upon my bed?' I asked -him bitterly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How long may you have kenned Kate Allison?' said -Robert Harburgh to me in his turn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Six years or so,' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And did you ever, in all that time, ask her to marry -you?' he inquired.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said I, not seeing what he was driving at.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then,' said Robert, very drily, 'I did, though I kenned -her not six weeks. And I would not wonder,' he went on, -as though deep in meditation, 'I would not wonder but that -is the reason why she is going to marry me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I turned over in bed, being deep in the sullens, and -Robert Harburgh went away, saying only, 'Now ye are -angry, Launcelot, but ye will find us both good friends, and -blythe will we be to see you at the five-merk lands of -Chitterlintie which my Lord Cassillis is setting to Kate and me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, as things fell out, the wedding was not to be -on the Thursday, nor yet for many Thursdays, for Robert -was bidden ride with the Earl to the Inch, his new house in -Galloway. Hither he went to set pressure on the country -lairds, who were his feudal holders, to gar them pay the -dues which he, Grab-siller John, thought had been too long -overlooked by his forebears. As the business was likely to -prove a troublesome one, he sent for Robert Harburgh to -ride with him. So, without so much as stopping to -dismount, for the message came when he had been on duty, -Robert Harburgh rode away. And if you will believe it, -he went without so much as kissing his sweetheart. He -leaned down and shook hands with her! But as for me, -I marvelled how she bore with that, for to my certain -knowledge she liked the other not so ill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Just as I was daily getting stronger, I received another -shock which had, I think, even more effect on me than the -other. One morning there came Sir Thomas down from the -castle, and I could see that he was full to the teeth with -news, for he walked with great confidence, and swung a -little stick made of two twisted stems of ivy which I had -given him, very quaint and curious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is all done with now,' he said, as soon as ever he had -gotten himself seated; 'there are to be no more ill times in -Carrick, and kinsmen's blood shall not flow any more in the -West. John Mure of Auchendrayne and I have settled it all -between us. His son and apparent heir, James, is to marry -to-morrow with my daughter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stared at him, stunned and dumbfounded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' he said, 'it is short notice, but young folks, ye -ken—and my daughter would not hear of a great wedding; -only what was fitting and plain.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your daughter?' I said, steadying myself, though my -heart was like to break, for I thought all my friends were to -leave me together.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, Marjorie,'said Sir Thomas, 'she is a quiet like lass -and speaks little, but when I put the matter of the marriage to -her, she said only, "If it will staunch the feud, I am ready to -marry whomsoever you will—Sir Thomas Tode, gin you -like!" But that was only her daffing, for, as we all know, Sir -Thomas is married already. And even if he were not, -marrying him would be neither here nor there in the matter -of the Cassillis and Bargany feuds.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For my good master never saw far into a whin bush all -his days, though accounted by most to be a wise man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>On the morrow, which was the day of the ill-faured -wedding, I put on my complete accoutrements for the first -time. I had Dom Nicholas saddled, for I felt strong once -more, and greatly desired to be away from the place. So -I stood by the gate as the party from Auchendrayne came -in, and saluted them, as was my duty. Then I was riding -away alone down by the shore road, when I heard in the -distance the sound as of an approaching cavalcade.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Bridles were jingling, stirrups clicking, and spearheads -making points of light, while the white foam went blowing -back from the hard-ridden horses. When they rode up, I -saw that they were as trenchant a set of blades as ever a man -might wish to set eyes on. And at the head of them rode -young Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, not knowing whether they came in peace or war, I -set myself upright on the back of Dom Nicholas, who was -of so great freshness with kicking of his heels in the park, -that he was ill to keep at the stand. Nevertheless, stand I -did in the midst of the outer gate, so that I should know -whether they came in peace or war, and to have time to cry -to the porter, even if they rode roughshod over me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And though I was weak, and knew not what might -happen, it was a joy untellable to be somebody again, and to -gar men reckon with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, being pale, I fear I made a poor figure to stand in -the gate and withhold so many. For during my captivity -the hair on my face had begun to grow in a manner that -was surprising, and proved a constant trouble to me to keep -shaven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Halt!' I cried to them. 'How come you to -Culzean—in peace or boding in fear of war?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But to wish the Tutor luck on his birthday in passing,' -said Gilbert, 'and then to ride on to the help of John, Earl -of Cassillis.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, much astonished at what had befallen, and especially -at his last saying, I fell in behind him, and the word was -given to ride forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bargany called me to come beside him, and asked -me of my health. I replied that I had been long time sick -of a wound, but that I was now recovered, and above all -things desired action, being sicker far of the doing of -nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereat he laughed, and said, 'Be cheerful, and if ye -want blows, I will ask the loan of you as a hostage from -your master.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, seeing the stir about the doors, and the serving -men running every way with flagons and dishes, he said, -''Tis a great stir for naught but the Tutor's birthday. -What may be the occasion?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, with my eyes secretly upon his, I told Gilbert -Kennedy that the Lady Marjorie was to be married that -day to James Mure of Auchendrayne. I never saw a man's -countenance change so suddenly. The fire sprang to his -eyes, and died out again like dead tinder. The heart blood -flushed hot to his face, and, returning, left him pale as a -maid in a decline.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I minded how I had taken the matter myself. -Yet I was sorrier for him, because I knew that he had loved -her longer and better than I. But nevertheless he tossed -his sword hand in air, and cried, 'We are in time for a -bridal, brave lads; this is more than we bargained for. Let -us go greet the bride and wish her joy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this I grant was a better way than sulking and -self-pity in the greenwood, which would have been mine that -day, had I been left alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With that he put the horses to the gallop, and we rode -through the narrow pass of the drawbridge by two and two. -The roar of the horses passing over was as the roar of the -sea when the storm drives up from the west on the Craigs -of Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we came by the corner of the terrace, I saw him give -a look at that window of the White Tower which faced to -the landward. It had been the Lady Marjorie's, and now -was to be hers no more. Then I saw him look down on -the fretting sea, as it tumbled white on the pebbles and -rocks by the Cove. And I knew why he looked there, and -I knew more also, for I remembered what I had heard -Marjorie say after he had gone clanking down the shore in -his anger and pride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet all the while Bargany rode light-hand upon his -bridle-rein, the pride of his horsemen clattering behind him, -gay with the music of hoofs and the dance of red and -white pennons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I wondered not that, as they said, he took the eyes of -ladies wherever he went. So that the Queen's bower-women -quarrelled concerning him, till Her Majesty said, -'I shall have no peace till I take him for myself. But -what would James say if young Bargany were to sing -"John, come kiss me now," beneath my bower window?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But more than all ladies' favours I envied him such a -brave repair of horse to follow him. For Culzean was -too poor, and the Lord of Cassillis too near the bone to -keep any such array of mounted gentlemen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For hackbuttmen, and footmen with spears, were more -to our Earl's mind, being better in the time of war, and -a deal cheaper in the days of peace—which even in these -troubled years were so many more than the days of -fighting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we rode up, and the Bargany squadron halted with -a great spattering of sand and tossing of the heads of horses, -the wedding folk were just coming out. First of all there -issued forth the bride, our Marjorie, the Marjorie that had -been ours, on James Mure's arm—he that now was her -husband. And behind them came the Minister of Maybole -and Sir Thomas, walking together very caigy[#] and jocose.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Friendly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But Marjorie's face was like stone, though the bitterness -of death overpast was gone from it. I trust mine eyes -may never see such a look of reproach and pain in any -human face, as was in hers when she saw Gilbert Kennedy -sitting his horse in front of the squadron, upon the gravel -stones from the seashore that were laid before the castle -steps. But Gilbert only saluted her, and cried aloud as -was customary, 'Luck to the wedding and health to the -bride!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then ran Sir Thomas to him and took his hand, bubbling -over with kindliness and pleasure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The feud is staunched indeed, when I see Bargany -once more in peace at the house of Culzean, even as my -good friend the Laird of Auchendrayne said it would be. -What might be your kindly errand? And will ye not -light off your beasts and bide to feast with us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I cannot,' said Bargany. 'The Earl of Cassillis is -besieged in the house of Inch by the Lairds of Galloway, -and I ride to his assistance.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she that had been Marjorie Kennedy turned to -him, and said, 'And will ye indeed consent to staunch the -feud for John Mure's sake, that would not do it for mine?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which seemed to me a strange mode of speech to be -spoken in the hearing of a husband on his wedding day. -But I had forgotten that none held the key to the utterance -saving Gilbert Kennedy and myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The staunching of the feud is neither yours nor mine, -Lady Marjorie,' said Bargany, bending very gently toward -her, 'but I cannot bide still in my house at the town of -Ayr while a Kennedy of Cassillis—my enemy though he -be—is dared, outfaced, and threatened by a pack of -Galloway lairds.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are they, then, ill men and far in the wrong?' said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'On the contrary, they are good men and in the right. -But that does not hinder me from standing for my name -and house against every other, even though that house be -foredoomed to fall, because it is divided against itself.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he turned to my master, saying to him, 'For this -one time, and as a pledge to my Lord the Earl John that I -mean his good, will you permit Launcelot, your esquire, to -ride in my company—he that hath so oft ridden well against -my folk?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gladly,' said Sir Thomas, 'but the lad has been ill.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is no far ride, and the boy needs but change of air -and foes of mettle to strengthen his sword-arm against.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So in a trice I was ready to follow my house's enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As I turned I saw John Mure of Auchendrayne standing, -looking in the dignity of his white hair most like a -saint, though contrariwise I knew him to be that which I -will not name. I heard him say to my master, 'Ye see, did -not I tell you? This marriage brings all good things -already. And this is but the beginning.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' replied Sir Thomas, 'indeed it is most gratifying -and well done of you. Who would have believed a week -ago that to-day Bargany would have saddled his steeds and -mounted his men to ride to the succour of John, Earl of -Cassillis?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I saw my good, simple master raise his hand and -clap Auchendrayne upon the shoulder. Then, for very hate -and loathing, I turned away. Even as I did so I saw the -eye of John Mure on the watch, and I knew that he understood. -For his glance was like a rapier-thrust when your -enemy means killing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ere the horsemen turned to ride away, Marjorie came -down the steps to where Bargany sat his charger, and -slipping a ring off her finger she handed it up to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For your Isobel Stewart!' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And though I saw it not, I am as certain as if I had seen -the crest and posy upon it that the ring was his own, one -which he had given her in some past day when they had far -other hopes than to part in this fashion on her wedding -morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, with a quick cry of command and the gallant -clatter of hoofs, we rode away. And that was the last -parting in life of Gilbert and Marjorie Kennedy, who had -been lovers ever since they were bairns, and had linked -themselves together for man and wife with chains of yellow -gowans upon the braes of Culzean.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-galloway-raid"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A GALLOWAY RAID</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As you may suppose, it was no grief, but the reverse, for me -to ride away with Bargany to the South, and leave behind -me the drear house of Culzean upon that dismal day of doom -and sacrifice. Nell Kennedy I saw nothing of, though, as I -learned in the aftertime, she saw me. For she too had fled -from the house, being unwilling to have aught to do with -such a deed of cruel wrong as the marrying of her sister, -that was the flower of the West, to an oafish lout like James -Mure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not but what our Maidie can stand up for herself. -And if she gets not her own way, sorry am I even for James -Mure!' said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was from the branches of a thick plane that Nell -watched us ride away to the house of the Inch, and noted -me as I cantered by Bargany's side. Of which, had I known -it then, I should have been fain. For, wild ettercap as she -was, I now counted Nell Kennedy almost the only friend I -had left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as we went, Bargany told me of the Earl's message -brought him by James Young, the Minister of Colmonel. -And in especial how he had telled a great lie to win through -the men of Galloway—in which sin it was then uncommon -for a minister to be found out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Not but that my heart is with the lads of Galloway,' -said Bargany, 'but after all, Gibby Crack-tryst is the first of -the Kennedies, and I shall not see him put down, whatever -be his deserts, by Garthland and the Sheriff. If Cassillis is -to go down, Bargany shall go with it; and all Galloway, -twice told, shall not accomplish that!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Although I felt chilled by the dull, unheartsome day we -had left behind us, I can tell you I thought no little of -myself to be thus riding in comradeship with Bargany at my -elbow. For though I had so ridden with the Earl once or -twice, yet I counted ten times more on Bargany. Forty -horsemen were of our company, and mine was the weariest -body among them all. For it was my first long day, after -my sickness with harness on my back, and pulses beat -where my wounds had been, so that I feared that they would -break out afresh, and I have to be left behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last we stayed our steeds at a small tenant's house -called Craigaffie, a little way from the Inch, where a vassal -of Bargany's dwelt. Him we sent to meet the Earl and tell -him that we were there—also to bid the Galloway men -come to an arbitrament, if so they would. For they had -enclosed the Earl back and front in his own house of the -Inch, so that none could pass—save indeed one that knew -the byeways and outgates as did this Peter Neilson of -Craigaffie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently there came back from the Earl a message most -piteous, for he knew the men of Galloway had him fast; and -he was afraid for the safety of the rents and mails that he -had with him in silver and minted gold—far more, to do -him justice, than he was anxious about his own skin. -Bargany was his dearly-beloved cousin, his eame, his saviour. -He would keep friendship with him more than with any -friend he had all the days of his life, for this notable -deliverance he had wrought. He was to come and put himself in -the Earl's hands after he had sent the lords of Galloway -about their business. The Earl's plighted word would be -his security.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this Bargany gave a smile, and set his thumb over -his shoulder at the forty swords that were riding behind him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'These,' said he, 'will be the best security that John, -Earl of Cassillis, will not harm me when I go to visit him -in his castle of the Inch.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was no long season before there came MacDowall -of Garthland and Sheriff Agnew to represent the men of -Galloway, and never in my life, save when I went as -herald to the great house of Kerse, did I see such an -exchange of high civilities. It was as the meeting of -heroes, when compared to the double-dealing and deceit of -our break-tryst Earl. More than ever, I wished that I had -been born on the other side of the score. But it hadna -bin to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Agnew the Sheriff was a tall man, with dark hair quickly -frosting to grey, a hawk's nose, a long arm good at laying -on, and a biting tongue which he knew well when to hold. -The Laird of Garthland, on the other hand, was red of -beard and brown of hair, altogether a man well set, -beginning also to be well-stomached with good feeding and -sleeping on benches of the afternoons.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Garthland who saluted first, for he came of the -oldest race in Galloway—save, perhaps, it may be, the -MacCullochs of Ardwell. But the eagle-nosed Sheriff was -the chief spokesman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Greeting courteously to you, Bargany,' he said. 'This -is a pleasure unexpected. Over on our poor shire-side, the -erne of the hills neither mixes nor mells with the quarrels -of the carrion crow.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I greet you well, Sheriff,' said Gilbert Kennedy; 'but -say your say plain out, without bringing all the birds of the -air into the matter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Plainly then,' said the Sheriff, 'the matter is this. -The Earl has moved the law against us for rights his -father granted us years agone, rights that have never been -questioned, and when we will not yield to him, he uses his -influence with the King to make us traitors. He sends his -low-born officers to remove us from our kindly homesteadings, -and from the castles where for centuries our forefathers -dwelled—ay, before one stone of Cassillis lay on the top -of another.' And the fire glinted in the Sheriff's deep-set -eyes, till, with his eagle's beak, he looked himself the very -erne of which he had spoken. He went on. 'Then comes -he himself, with a force of forty horse, to reduce the -unbroken baronage of Galloway. He summons us to the court -of doom, and lo! we come to this yett with a hundred -gentlemen, and as many more footmen that but wait to be called. -We have obeyed his mandate to the letter, whereat he sulks -within gates. Then we send him word that we are at the -trysting-place, and that we will be most glad to see his face. -But for some reason or other that I cannot guess at, he -comes not; but withdraws himself into the house of the -Inch, where presently he remains. And we, being bound -to see that no ill befalls him within our borders, have set -ourselves down to be the warders and the protectors of -him and of the castle.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So said the Sheriff, and made his courteous amend. And -to him Bargany replied,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, Lochnaw, ye know well that ye have no warrant -thus to shut up the Earl of Cassillis, immuring your lawful -feudal superior and defying ancient custom.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then spake the red-bearded Laird of Garthland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If it come to that, we are bound to you and not to the -Earl, Gilbert Kennedy. Ye are bound to maintain us in -our rights! Am I to lose my auld and kindly office and -possession, which I have held in direct line from Uchtred, -Lord of Galloway? Of a truth, no, Bargany! Ye are -of a conscience overtrue for work of this kind. Ye will do -to me your honourable duty, as your predecessors have ever -done to mine in time past.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And having said his say with dignity, the red Garthland -held his peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could see very well that Bargany was ill at ease. He -liked not the errand he had come on. Blows were very -well, but to be process-server sat heavy on his stomach. -I heard him mutter,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That I, Gilbert Kennedy, should be doing John of -Cassillis's dirty work! For none other sake than Marjorie's -would I do this thing!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he took up his parable with the Lairds of Galloway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hearken, Garthland and Lochnaw—if, as ye say, I am -above ye, well do ye know that the Earl is by law above -us both.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He paused for a moment, wry-face, as though he had -swallowed the bitterest drugs of the apothecary. And I -saw the Sheriff smile a smile as bitter every whit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hearken to me. If my lord continue to do ye wrong, -and will not use you kindly, by mine honourable word in the -hearing of all these friends, I will not only leave his -lordship—I will maintain you to the last drop of my blood. -But if ye pursue my lord to take his life, seeing that he has -sent for me to aid him, I will defend him to the uttermost -of my power.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then said the Sheriff, 'Bargany, we are honourable men -and peaceful. We are not here to attack the Earl, but to -defend ourselves in that thing in which he would do us -wrong.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will deal straightly with my lord,' said Bargany; 'be -content, and leave the outcome to me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We are content,' they replied, both of them as one. -'We ken a man when we front him, for we ourselves are -men. We will abide your judgment, whatever you may -command.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So in a trice Bargany had gotten the Earl to promise -all good things, and the Galloway men were satisfied. -Thereafter they all dined together with my lord in the -house of Inch, and parted very merry. And the men of -Galloway convoyed us northward to the braes of Glenap, -where the whole force and retinue of Bargany's servants and -friends met us. Thus was the Earl released from durance, -and his promises were loud and many, so that we were all -well-contented. And I thought that the old feud was at -last come to an end.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-slaughter-in-the-snow"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE SLAUGHTER IN THE SNOW</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But, alas! I was never more disappointed, shamed, deceived -in my life. For no sooner was our Earl back in his own -messuages and domains, and behind his lines of hackbuttmen, -than he resiled from all his promises—both to the Galloway -men, who had done so honourably in the releasing and -convoying of him, and (what seemed to me worse) also to -Bargany, who had pledged himself in honour to satisfy the -Sheriff and Garthland. For after all, a lie told to a loon of -Galloway is not like one to a man's own kin and country. -Though, of course, a man that is true all through the web, -will not tell a lie to any. But such men are few, at least in -the shire of Ayr where I dwell, and in Edinburgh to which -I have at different times voyaged.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Bargany, as was natural, was fierce in his indignation -with the crack-tryst Earl.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For,' said he, 'he has made me, that am a man of my -word, break faith with men of a like pattern, even with -Uchtred MacDowall of Garthland and the Sheriff of -Galloway.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So after all this tangled business, instead of peace, as my -deeply-deceived master had supposed when he gave over his -daughter to the traitors of Auchendrayne, there issued -at the last naught but feud, more deadly and hateful than -ever.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl, who, to do him justice, was no coward as to -his own skin, went hither and thither between Cassillis and -Maybole, and even south to Auchneil, riding freely as -though he had been within his own borders all the time. -And the traps that were laid for him by Auchendrayne and -Thomas of Drummurchie, the Laird of Bargany's barbarous -brother, were too many to be told. Yet for the sake of the -new alliance, such as it was, Culzean meddled not at all with -the matter, though doubtless it was a source of infinite -bitterness of spirit to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then all of a sudden there came upon us the eleventh -of December, which is a day yet remembered in Carrick, -because of the many brave lads that pranked it in pride in -the morning, and who yet lay stiff in their war gear or ever -the early winter gloaming had fallen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We at Culzean got our warning from the Earl's man, -John Dick, on the night before, how it was the order that -we were to gather at Cassillis yett and ride with them back -to Maybole town all in a company. John Dick told us, but -with even more than his customary surliness and unwillingness, -that the cause of this raising of the clan was, that two -days before Bargany had ridden past the gate of Cassillis, -where the Earl was—stopping not at all, but riding by with -pennons flying in despite, which was held a deadly insult to -his feudal superior. So Earl John had sworn to be equal -with him on his return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was such a day of snow (this eleventh day of -December) that even in the midst of the fight, when the -hackbutts were talking and the steel ringing, a man could -scarce see whither he was going. At times so thick was -the drift, that when a man struck at an enemy with his -lance, he could not tell who it might be that opposed him, -whether friend or foe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when, very early in the morning, we rode out to -the muster, the oncoming storm had not yet begun. The -air was bitter cold, blowing from the south-east, so that it -drove in the faces of the Bargany folk all the day. Now, -as of late years it had been customary with him, my Lord -of Culzean was not able to ride with us. For the chill -weather unmanned him, and he could do nothing but hurkle -over the fire, with a lad to rub his swollen feet and stiff -knee-joints.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it befell that once more I had the leading of our -good lads from the sea border. Right merry we were -as we rode forth, for the matter seemed to us no more -than a good adventure. None thought that the issue -would be so grim and bloody as it proved. We were -but half-way to Maybole when we came suddenly on -Auchendrayne himself and John Dick, the Earl's -messenger, in close converse—which I thought a strange -thing, seeing that Auchendrayne was so great a favourer -of the Bargany faction. So soon as they saw us come -in sight they parted, and John Dick rode away over the -fields, but Auchendrayne came towards us, riding easily -and pleasantly as if to market.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A good day to you,' he cried. 'Whither away, armed -</span><em class="italics">cap-à-pie</em><span>, so early?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We ride to meet my lord, and to do his bidding!' -I said, making my words brief and curt, because I liked -not the man, for all his fine figure and commanding -presence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your master Sir Thomas, is, I hear, laid by with his -ancient trouble. I asked John Dick concerning him. Tell -him that I grieve to hear of it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Without doubt, you were on your way to visit him,' -I said, with mockery in my manner of speech, for it -was a strange thing to meet John Mure on the wrong -side of the town of Maybole at daybreak of a winter's -morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Without doubt,' he answered readily; 'but now that -I know of his weak state of health, I need not trouble him -this day!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is the greater need, Laird Auchendrayne,' I made -reply, 'that you should go on and cheer him with your -pleasant discourse.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He answered to that not a word good nor bad, but -turned his horse and rode away to the right, making, as -I guessed, a detour to avoid my lord and join our enemies -of Bargany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was early in the morning of this famous eleventh of -December (as I have been told) that there was a goodly stir -and commotion in the town of Ayr. Gilbert Kennedy had -resolved that he would ride that day to Bargany by way of -the town of Maybole. Sorely and often they of his faction -tried to dissuade him, but he was set immovably on it, as -he was on anything to which he had once made up his -mind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Think ye,' he said, 'that I am feared of John, Earl of -Cassillis, or of all the Kennedies of the shore edge that ever -scarted other folk's siller into their wallets like -sclate-stanes?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye needna be feared,' said his brother Thomas, the -Wolf of Drummurchie, 'but ye surely have enough of -sense to take care of your pelt. Even a swine has that -muckle. Do you think that Cassillis, and those that are -with him, have not as much sense as we? They will be -standing by some roadside where we have to ride by, and -they will have holes cutted out, I warrant you, long or this, -to shoot us in the by-ganging—-even as we did for Earl -Johnnie at the limekilns of the Dalgorrachies.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But that debauched villain, the Laird of Benane, and his -little-wit sister, moved him to that pride, to which also his -own heart ever too easily inclined. So, in spite of all -entreaty, Bargany leaped on his charger and rode forward -himself, with only ten or twelve horsemen as a first vanguard. -Behind him there came other seventy, making in all the -number of fourscore armed men on horseback, all good -riders of mettle. Some of these were such burghers of -Ayr as had a soul beyond the ell-wand, and could follow -a foray and bend the pull of a pistolet with any man. -For I have learned that all townsfolk are not nidderlings, -as once I thought in my hot youth and little knowledge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, so soon as they were well mounted there were -two at Bargany's muster who rode away to warn my Lord -of Cassillis by which way Bargany should come, so that he -might be in array. The traitorous names of them were -William Cunningham and Hew Penandgow, against both -of whom Auchendrayne had warned Gilbert Kennedy. -But Bargany had taken no heed, for he said, 'Never yet have -I seen the time when my right arm could not keep my -head against kings and earls, let alone pock-puddings and -Penandgows!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nor like I this day's work,' said Auchendrayne, 'for -I see not here the weight of men to do your turn and carry -you through.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet all the time he was plotting that Gilbert Kennedy -should no more ride home to Bargany, and that John Mure -should rule the land in his stead.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was not long before they came to the bridge of Doon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There they stayed awhile, and Bargany set his fighting -men in array. And, as was the custom, he made an -address to them—of which I have heard much and often, -for all men minded it as the speech of a brave man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sirs,' he said, so that they could all catch his words, -'I am here to protest, before God, that I seek neither the -life nor the dishonour of my lord. But I desire only to -ride home to my house in peace, if he will let me. But if -not, I look to you all to do your duty as becometh men. -He that is willing to do this, out of love and kindness for -me, let him tarry with me to the end. But if not, let him -leave me now at this present!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And they all answered, 'We will die in your defence if -any dire hurt or pursue you!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So being well agreed, they of Bargany rode forward. -They were divided into two companies, and their faces were -set toward the gate of the town. And now it befits that -I speak of the things which I saw with my own eyes, and -of the noble muster that we of the Cassillis faction made on -the knowes outside of Maybole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I mind well how the Earl's spies came riding in with -the news that Bargany had ridden out of the town of Ayr, -and what joy was in the hearts of most of us that were -there, when we heard that with him he had but eighty -men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Earl John was so full of pleasure that his countenance -shone, and he cracked his thumbs like a boy, seeing his -enemy already in his power. He rode here and there -among us, and saw to it that all the hackbuttmen had -good-going matches, and all the footmen practicable spears -and pikes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we gathered in the High Street of Maybole the -snow was just beginning to fall, and presently it came -driving up from the south, so that we had it on our backs -all through the fight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was put in the very forefront of the muster with my -twenty horsemen. For, save and excepting those of -Culzean, and the few that surrounded his own person and -were his gentlemen (as Robert Harburgh and others), my -Lord of Cassillis counted not many horsemen, but rather -spent his means upon providing hackbuttmen with the -latest species of ordnance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, gallantly enough we rode forth from Maybole, -with the hackbuttmen and spearmen coming on foot after -us. The street was full of them as far as one could discern -through the oncoming storm, rising and falling like the waves -of the sea. Yet was our soldierly figure a little spoiled by the -falling snow—at least to the eyes of the women that looked -down upon us in droves from the upper windows of the houses. -But, of course, a soldier cared nothing for such a trifle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When once we got outside the town, my lord bade his -men line the hedges and banks, so that the hackbuttmen -might have both rests for their pieces and shelter for -themselves. On the other hand, the Laird of Bargany hid few -hackbuttmen, for he said, 'It is not the arm of a gen'leman. -Comes a bullet of lead and be he lord, prince, or peasant, -Childe Roland or base craven, there is no difference and no -remead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>No sooner were we set, all under cover, than our spearmen -upon the left and we upon the right, discerned the -host of Bargany beginning to crown the opposite knolls. -And through the pauses of the storm I could see the leaden -glint of their spears, and hear the words of command. It -was indeed a picked day for a grim fight to the death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the head of all Gilbert Kennedy rode, behind him -the Wolf his brother, and the Laird of Auchendrayne wearing -a long cloak, for it was a stormy day and he no longer -a young man like the others. Then it was that my heart -rose against the fighting, and I had no such gladness in it -as was usual with me, all for the sake of young Bargany, -whom I loved. Yet as soon as I set eyes upon John Mure -of Auchendrayne, I felt the iron grow in my veins and -the hot anger mount to my head. Of its own accord my hand -gripped the spearhilt, for this day, by the Earl's command, -I was again to lay a lance in rest. But I had now learned -the game and art of it, and took lessons no longer from -anyone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If the Lord prosper me this day, I will make an end -of one false rogue!' So I vowed, solemn as if I had been -in the kirk on a Sabbath day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the two forces drew so close together that we -could see and hear one another—that is, before the snow -swept down, blotting out faces and forms, friend and foe -alike.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Immediately there began the challenging and taunting, -as is ever the way in these clan battles, where every fighter -knows everyone else, and has met him at kirk and market -a score of times.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Patrick Rippitt, that was ever a wild lad, cried -out for provocation to the Laird of Bargany's younger -brother, with whom he had some quarrel about a lass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Laird of Benane, Laird of Benane, this is I, Patrick -Rippitt, that took your hackbutt from you! For thy latest -love's sake, come down to the hollow and break a tree -with me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For that was his manner of challenging his enemy to -fight with lances. And again, 'Then for all thy loves -sake,' cried Patrick, which made a laugh, for Benane's loves -were comparable to the snowflakes for number, and eke for -the lightness—but by no means the whiteness of their -characters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For all thy loves' sakes, come down, and I will gar thy -harns clatter!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Benane was silent and returned no answer, albeit -the moment before he had been giving Bargany counsel to -ride forward at the charge. But Benane was a man, debonnair -but feckless, a weighty man with his tongue, but thewless -and unable of his hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Long ere this the men of Ayr were keen to be at the -shooting. But Bargany held them in, saying, 'I will go to -the length of my tether in eschewing all cummer and -bickering, so far as I may.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that he wheeled about his force off the knows -of the Lady Carse, and went down by the bogside of Dinhame, -to see whether a way might be won in that direction, -without coming to the bloody arbitrament of battle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But my lord the Earl cried out, 'Ware ye, there on -the left. They would turn our flank and take us at -unawares!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he spread out his hackbuttmen, and made them race -down the ridges over against Bargany's men, till they won -to the foot of the Bog of Dinhame. There on the edge -of the moss was a wall of turf, or, as the country folk call -it, a 'fail dyke,' so our hackbuttmen, coming to it, first -lined it, and then began to fire on Bargany, who was -somewhat disconcerted and taken aback at their alertness. I -galloped round to the right, to make safe the wing with -my little band of horse, for I feared we might be suddenly -assaulted by the whole band of eighty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>However, as it happened, the sudden shooting of our -musketeers threw their lines into confusion, some of them -halting by a little burn-side that was at the bog-foot. This -staying of the charge gave further courage to our musketeers, -who had full time to plant their rests and make their matches -ready. Our pikemen also gathered at the back of the turf -dyke and levelled their weapons over the heads of the kneeling -hackbuttmen, so that it had been as vain for the whole -company to have charged upon us, as for them to have -attacked the walls of Calais.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, I saw them muster again boldly and come -at us. I caught the trampling of their horses as they -gathered speed. The fire of our musketeers flickered out -here and there adown the line, for it was a dark afternoon -and the flashes could clearly be seen. I saw sundry horses -go down and heard men fall, the iron plates of their mail -clashing on the frost-firmed ground. Some of those who -started most gallantly reeled in their saddles, threw up their -arms and fell backwards, while their horses galloped riderless -away, for that is the manner of men's falling who are -smitten by the bullet as they ride.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Wolf of Drummurchie was down. I hoped that -he would rise no more, for he was a most cruel beast and -the bane of many lives. Indeed, from before the fire of our -musketeers, all trained marksmen, the riders of Bargany -who had been so proud, fairly melted away. Thus was -Earl John justified of his dependence upon powder and lead.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="marjorie-bids-her-love-good-night"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MARJORIE BIDS HER LOVE GOOD-NIGHT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I was just rejoicing that the battle was well over, and that -the victory remained with us without great shedding of blood, -when to my infinite astonishment I saw a little dark cloud of -five or six men disengage them from the deray, and charge -straight at the thickest of us. They seemed to come -suddenly out of the midst of the battling snowstorm, for -the driven flakes beat so in their faces, that had it not -been shed from their armour they would have been fairly -sheeted white in it, as indeed were the trappings of their -horses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a moment more they were amongst us—Bargany himself -first of all, with Cloncaird and James and Andro Bannatyne, -and behind them, with his sword bare, Auchendrayne -himself. Yet I opine he came not willingly, but that his horse, -unaccustomed to noise, ran away with him. By what freak of -madness they resolved thus to charge, as it had been an army -in position, it is beyond me to tell. In a moment these five -were in the midst of the slicing steel and the flame of -ordnance—the snow-flakes driving in their eyes and their -swords cutting a way through the white drift to reach the -foe.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Never was there such a fight—at least, not in this land, -for there were but five of them to near a hundred of -us! So that I saw no honour in the battle, and besides, it -went hard with me to have to smite that Gilbert Kennedy, -at whose side I had ridden so blithely all the way to the -house of the Inch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I spurred Dom Nicholas forward with a kind of joy, -toward the mound where Auchendrayne had managed to stay -his horse just outside the heady rush of the fight. I saw -that he meant to watch what the end might be, but I was -determined that I should give him more than he bargained -for. So I couched lance, and crying, 'A Kennedy!' -held at him, swinging a pistol point-blank as I came, -and throwing it away as I gripped the spear. And this -time at least I might well have been called Spurheel, for I -rowelled Dom Nicholas most vigorously. I came upon -John Mure with a surge, so that I clean overbore him with -a lance-thrust in the thigh. I cared not a jot that he was -old. The devil was older than he, and besides, if he wanted -not to stand the chance of battle, he might even have bided -at home for the quarrel was none of his.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it had been telling all of us if I had stayed to finish -him. When I think of the ill the man did afterwards, -and how for years he had been bringing many to their deaths, -I can bite my thumb for letting him off scot-free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, like a fool, I contented myself with the lance-thrust -and the chance pistol bullet I sped at him in the heat of the -fight. For I never could abide the cruel slaying of the -wounded, which is practised even more in these private wars -than in the great affairs of nations. And this over delicacy -has often stood in the way of my advantage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I turned, and left Auchendrayne lying on the ground. -As I came back I heard Bargany crying out, 'I fear we are -too few! But have at them till we die!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was but one that fought with him, all his other -companions being stricken down. And in a trice he alone -was left on his horse. Nevertheless, it was with a light -hand on the rein and a feat touch of the heel, that Gilbert -Kennedy kept his head, though the blows fell like hail on -his armour. There were three that he held at arm's length—all -the while crying out for the Earl, and trying fiercely -to break through the spearmen, who stood like a fence about -the person of Cassillis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where is my lord himself?' he cried. 'Let him now -keep promise, and come out like a man to break a tree -with me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So went the fight of the one against many, and such -deeds of valiance saw I never any man do in this realm of -Scotland, though in my time I have seen so many brave and -worthy things done. For Gilbert Kennedy attacked Patrick -Rippitt and Quintain Crawford with strokes that nearly -dang them senseless, crying at each blow, 'Bargany! -Bargany! To the rescue, Bargany!' But ever as he -raged through the fight like a lion, I saw John Dick -watching him with a poised lance in his hand. And while -Gilbert was at blows with Rippitt and Big Quintain, Dick -raised the spear and sent it quivering at him, with an art -which I never saw any man master of, save only himself. -Gilbert Kennedy had taken no note of him—for, as I heard -afterwards, Auchendrayne had told all that were in the -camp of Bargany, that John Dick was his man, and his paid -intelligencer in the host of the enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The poised lance struck young Bargany full in the neck -and stayed. So in the midst of his foes, and striking at them -to the last, he fell, who was the bravest man of his age. And -at his overthrow there fell a silence for a space, and the battle -smother cleared. Only the snow fell and scarce melted on -the face that was already white and set in death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We crossed our spears and made a bier with our cloaks, -whereon we laid him. Then very gently I drew away -the deadly lance, though the wound bled not much, but -inwardly, which was worse. We thought to bear him to -some castle of his own folk, as it might be to the house of -Auchdrayne. But the Earl John came and looked at his -foe and kinsman as he lay on the snow with his eyes closed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Carry him to my castle at the town end of Maybole,' -said he, 'for that is near by.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now I thought that not the best place in the world for -the young man's recovery, but, being bidden, it was not -mine to reply, but only to obey.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We came to the portcullis gate of Maybole, and were -bearing him in upon our shoulders, when down the road -to the town there came, riding like the wind, first a lady -and then a man that followed hotly in pursuit. When -they came nearer, I saw that the lady was she who had -been Marjorie Kennedy, and that the man riding after -was her husband, James Mure. At sight of us who bore -the soldier's bier slowly on our spears, Marjorie leaped -from her horse, and left it to wander, bridle free, whither -it would. But a page seized and held it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She came swiftly to where we were carrying our burden -on the crossed lances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it Gilbert Kennedy?' she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We told her ay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Lay him down under the gate,' she commanded, 'I -would speak with him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, my lady Marjorie,' I said, as gently as I could, 'I -fear that he is dead already.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then I would even speak to him dead,' she cried. 'Lay -him down!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her husband came up to take her by the hand as if to -remove her, but she turned on him in white anger, swift -and flaming.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You that have never yet dared to lay a hand on me, is -it like that you shall begin now? Go, look to your father; -cravens that shun the battle ought not to brawl with women -in the gate!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And without further remonstrance James Mure slunk -away, like the very pitiful rogue that he was. I could have -kicked the cur, and wished there had been fewer folk -there—for I had done it too.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she that had been so proud and haughty to young -Bargany when he was alive, took the fair, wounded head in her -arms, crouching beside him in the dun, trampled snow, while -the flakes blew in upon her unbound hair. She crooned and -hushed him like a bairn, while we that had borne him stood -wide from her, some turning away altogether. But, because -I knew all and loved her, I stood near.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gilbert,' she said, 'noblest and dearest, never doubt but -that I loved you—never loved but you. Though I flouted -you oft, and ever sent you empty away, yet I loved you -and none other. And I want the world to know that -I loved him—ay,' she said, turning her face up to us all -defiantly, 'ay, and loved him with clean hands, too, for he -that is dead never knew it. But I desire you that were his -enemies in life, to know that I, Marjorie Kennedy, honoured -myself by loving the noblest man and the fairest—not that -thing there, who by cozenance bought me, as cattle are -bought in the market-place.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She laid down his head very gently, taking a fine silken -scarve, soft and white, from her own neck. And in the folds -of that which was yet warm with the warmth of her pure and -gracious bosom, she wrapped from common sight the head -of him who had died without knowledge of her love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she kneeled low down upon her knees, clasping -hands and holding the last fold of the napkin ere she -covered his face from sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, best beloved,' she said very gently, yet so that I -could hear, 'fare thee well! So have I never said farewell -before. But ever scornfully, being in fear of mine own -heart's treachery. Lie you there that wert the noblest man -the sun shone on, of adversaries the most fearless, of enemies -the most chivalrous, of friends the truest, of loves the -sweetest—lie you there. Those that hated you were many. -But there was one that loved you—ay, and loves you, and -ever shall love you! Lie you there, heart that never feared -aught but God and dishonour and a lie—heart that never -took favour from man nor refused one to woman. See, I will -touch your lips—those sweetest lips that never of my own will, -have I touched before. The earth be kind to your body, -sweet. The heavens receive your soul with honour, and the -angels that warred with Satan and vanquished him, stand -up at your entrance to give you room!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She smoothed the cloth upon the face with mighty love -in the caressing of her finger tips.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good-night, dear love,' she said, lifting it for the last -time and kissing his brow. 'It is sweet, even thus in death, -to tell thee that I love thee!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, when Marjorie had done bidding her love farewell, -we lifted the crossed spears, and setting them again -on the shoulders of men, we carried Gilbert of Bargany -away.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="days-of-quiet"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">DAYS OF QUIET</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>I ran back to bid Marjorie return with us to Culzean, -where at least we could keep her safe. She stood where we -had left her, looking at the place where her love had lain. -The marks of the crossed spears and certain drops of blood -alone remained on the snow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the sound of my voice she started as from a dream.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, Launcelot,' she said, looking at me strangely, as -though I too had been dead and in a newer life had -unexpectedly confronted her, 'do you think that I, who fear -not fifty in the highway, fear one or two in the house of -Auchendrayne? My work is not done there yet,' she added; -'till it be, there I shall bide.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that she mounted and rode away. Never did -I see a cavalcade ride home in such fashion after a victory. -There was not a man of us from Culzean but went with -his head hanging down like a little whipped cur. And when -we told Sir Thomas he was like to break his heart, for -he was a kindly man, and had ever a great affection for -Bargany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Nell, when she heard it, went out and stopped the -boys that played at ball and shouted in the tennis-court. -Also, to keep them sober, she set them to learn their -religion—of which, in common with all in that country side (save -perhaps my master) they had great need.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But strange to tell, after the grief for Bargany's death -was a little by-past among us, there befell the quietest and -most gracious time that ever had been in the house of -Culzean. It was like the coming of joy after the -rain—the warm rain of pity which thawed our winter-frozen -hearts.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet the things that happened during these months were -many. First of all there was the marrying of my pretty cruel -Kate to Robert Harburgh, who had at last gotten leave to -depart from the Earl, and the down-sitting to settle on. -So the day came that I had looked for to be so bitter to me, -and lo! it was not bitter at all; for I stood beside Nell -Kennedy in white, who was Kate Allison's best maid, and -it was indeed a sight comely. Then it was that for the first -time I honestly judged Nell to be more beautiful than her -sister Marjorie, of which I have often thought since.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When all was over, and Nell and I had done racing -and throwing of old shoes after them, as they rode away -together to their well-furnished house of Chitterlintie, it -chanced that she and I walked home together. We were -silent a long while.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then said I, 'Nell, do you remember how it was our -daily use to quarrel?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And so it may be again,' she said, tossing her head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wonder where the rope is, and the tow-steps that -used to dangle from the White Tower?' she asked after -a moment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They are e'en there yet,' I said, 'if it be that you -desire to go and see your lad. But be more timely, I pray -you, in your homecoming, for now you have no excuse in -the way of sisters—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I remembered, and was shamed. However, Nell -paid no heed, but seemed to be thinking of something else.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nor have you now any excuse for going down by to -Sandy the Grieve's,' she said, giving me tit for tat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nell,' said I, 'we are very good friends, are we not?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' said she, drily, 'brawly do I ken the reason of that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what may the reason be?' I asked of her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just that I am all there is left,' she said, so quickly that -I declare the saying took the wind from me, like a sudden -blow where one's breath bides. Nor do I yet know the -answer to that, for on the surface of the thing there was -certainly some reason in what she said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I am not proud,' she went on, 'and you and I -are good friends and good company. I am e'en content to -be Mistress Do-no-better!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nell,' said I, going nearer to her, and taking her -hand, 'Nell, you and I are now to be more than that.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she drew her hand away with a jerk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Try a new way of it,' she said; 'I am not taking -Mistress Katherine Allison's cast-off sweet speeches!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So that base little wretch Kate Allison had been at the -telling of tales!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After this I saw no better way out of the bog than to -withdraw myself from her, and walk apart in that silent -dignity, which, upon occasion, I have at my command.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, Launce,' she said, standing up with her hands -behind her and her mouth pouted, 'you are a good lad -enough, but simple. I knew that I would send you into -the sulks. That was the reason I said it. If you take -me for a sweet confection that melts in the mouth, you -mistake me sorely!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I made no answer, not indeed having any to make, -and so marched off by myself. Yet for all Nell's ill-treatment -and scorning of me, I did not grieve any more for -that minx Kate. For, as I was no long time in discovering, -the pretty traitress had told Nell many of those sweet -things I had said to her. I never imagined that girls told -such speeches and love-makings the one to the other. I -had aways believed that a lass kept her own secrets, and -only told other people's. It was, indeed, most true what -Nell had cast up to me. I was but a simple lad.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="on-the-heartsome-heather"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ON THE HEARTSOME HEATHER</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now I must tell during this time of Sir Thomas Kennedy. -He seemed altogether another man. He had ever, indeed, -been kindly and generous, forgiving and unsuspicious. -But during these spring months of the year after Bargany's -death, he seemed to ripen like a winter apple when it is -laid by, till there was no more sourness in him anywhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Oftentimes he would come and cause me to read to him -out of the Gospels. Aforetime it had always been from the -Old Testament, which I had ever thought the more -interesting, till Sir Thomas that spring showed me other -of it, making me read through the Holy Gospels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, to talk with him and watch his life was better -than any sermon. I declare that before I understood his -character and thought, I knew not that religion was aught -more than the colour of a faction—a thing to fight about, -like the blood feuds of Cassillis and Bargany, concerning -the wrong and right of which not one in a thousand knows -anything, and still fewer care.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet for all his increasing gentleness there was naught -unmanly about my lord, but ever the bearing and speech -of a most courteous knight. He had a great love for noble -and sweet music, and often diverted himself on the viol, -upon which he played most masterly. The scurril jest, -indeed, he would sharply reprove; but his heart still inclined -to wit and mirth, and his countenance was constantly -cheerful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Specially this was so when he and I, with Nell and -little David, rode south to Galloway, where we were to -abide a long season with Sheriff Agnew. For Marget -Kennedy, his eldest daughter, was married to the young -Laird, the Sheriff's son, and abode at the castle of Lochnaw. -Now in these days the air of Galloway, brisk yet kindly, -suited my master better than the sea winds which were -ever blowing about Culzean. And what was more to him -than all Galloway was not so torn by feuds as Carrick and -Kyle. And a man held not his life ever in the palm of his -hand, as a tavern drawer does an unsteady cup which at any -moment may be spilled. Nevertheless my good master found -an infinite sadness in this, that in a wide realm of men that are -called Christians, I, Launcelot Kennedy, should have come -to the years of manhood with no better opinion of religion -than that it was the rag of faction. And this, too, with -ministers in mostly every parish, with preachings and -communings, and all the outer husk of godliness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But during this springtime, Sir Thomas showed me -quite other of it. But yet I gave not in to all his argument -about the Kingdom of Peace. For I answered that I was -his soldier and servant, and that time and again it had been -so ordered by Providence that fight I must—for the safety -and honour of my master and eke for mine own, this being -the sphere of life in which my lot had been cast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I object it not,' said Sir Thomas; 'defence and the -appeal to arms are lawful. But I have lived many days, -and I think shall not live many more. Yet never have I -seen the lasting success of them that make the appeal to -the sword. Truly does Holy Writ say, that they that flee -to the sword shall perish by the sword.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as we paced together he read to me much from -his little Bible, and bemoaned his sins and evil life, especially -how that he had been overtaken in the house of Sir Thomas -Nisbett on the New Year's night of the attack. I wished -that I dared tell him that I had arranged the matter with -his host for the saving of his life. But I judged that -repentance is no bad thing for young or old, so I e'en let him -repent his fill and bemoan as he would.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Few places more heartsome have I seen than the tower -of Lochnaw. First, it stood near to an inland loch, where -ducks squattered and splashed, instead of being like Culzean, -set amid the thresh of winds and the brattle of the sea. -Then the Sheriff and his children were well agreed, and -friendly with their neighbours, so that it was a proverb, -that the wolves and the lambs lay down together in that -countryside. For if you stirred an Agnew, you had all -the wolves of Galloway on your back! But in truth the -Agnews were somewhat strange 'lambs,' though their name -bears that signification.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We are called Agnews because we have so often been -fleeced,' said the Sheriff once in his pleasantry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I told him that was bad sense though good wit—because -in the hills we shore not the lambs till they had -grown to be sheep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, well,' said the Sheriff, twinkling with his eyes, -'shear my son Patrick there, for he is now sheep-muckle, -and has been so silly as to mix himself with the unruly folk -of Carrick.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had indeed great pleasure in the house of Lochnaw. -It is a fair place, with walls, moats, and drawbridges all -about—very proper for defence—so that there be no artillery -set against it. But to my thinking the mounds might now -very well be levelled and turned into walks and terraces, as -has been done at Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I sat down daily with the family at table, and was in -all respects as one of them. For the Sheriff said, 'Ye are -not to be strange with us—for my wife comes from within -sight of Kirrieoch Hill, and likes dearly to listen to the -tongue of the muirland border folk.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' said my Lady Agnew, for I will not call her -the old lady, seeing that she had kept the heart that was -within her young, 'ay, and I have not seen any folk to -better them on these fat, profitable Rhynns.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That,' said the Sheriff, 'was what I thought when I -went to the Minnoch side for a wife.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And very gallantly he lifted his wife's hand to his lips, -like the noble and courtly gentleman he was. And to this -day the Agnews have ever been proud of their wives. And -with reason.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hearken to these young folk,' said Lady Agnew, as the -noise and tumult of much laughter and daffing came up to -us. 'Hark to them. Is it not good to be young?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And therefore it is good to be my Lady of Lochnaw!' -said I, for I determined to show that there were folk in -Carrick that could be gallant as well as Galloway Agnews.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hoot, Culzean,' cried the Lady Agnew, 'how have ye -brought up your squire, that he cannot see a well-looking -woman, but on the instant he maun begin to court her?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What,' cried my master, 'the regardless loon—and that -before her husband's face, too!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That, at least, is not a Galloway fault, at ony gate,' -said the Sheriff, smiling, 'for Galloway ever behaves itself -before folk, and courts only behind backs and slily by the -licht of the moon.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye talk havers, Andrew,' said his wife. 'Never did I -meet you behind backs all the days of our courting.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Na,' said the Sheriff, 'but your father, honest man, was -sair troubled with deafness, and your mother was blind, and -lame o' a leg forbye.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Haud your tongue, guidman. Have some mense afore -the young man, for he looks a sober chiel and blate. -What should he have to do with lasses? At his years!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here Nell Kennedy broke out in peal on peal of laughter, -and when they asked her the reason,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was but at Launcelot's face when my lady praises -him for being blate. He looks as innocent as our grey cat -Grimalkin, when she has eaten all the fish for supper.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I wish that I could dwell longer on these sweet, peaceful -days in Galloway, but the spring went on apace, and Sir -Thomas was summoned back to Culzean. His nephew the -Earl urgently needed his advice, and wrote to him to say so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Earl makes you many compliments,' said the Lady -Lochnaw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, ay,' said Culzean, 'Earl John was aye a great -spender with his tongue, even as was the daddy of him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we were bound to ride away from this kindly and -merry house of Lochnaw, and much did I desire to return -thither. Never once did we speak of wars and stratagems -while we remained under that roof, but all of friendship, of -lusty daffing, and of leasome love.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when we mounted I bade farewell to all with a wae -heart. I envied the Sheriff greatly, for he had a wife whom -he loved in age as in youth, and yet whom he knew wherein -to be the master of—a thing, I take it, which makes home -happier than all besides. I thought within me that Patrick, his -son, had set himself a harder field to plough in his Marget. -Yea, already methought he had let the reins slip from his -hands—which, after all, is no strange thing, considering that -she was own sister to Marjorie and Nell Kennedy, of whose -stiff necks I had oft had experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Ere we went, the Sheriff said a word that amused us all. -'When I came to be Sheriff,' he said, 'I found my father -at the horn, outlaw and rebel, for refusing to pay teinds -to cover the back of a bishop's lady with silks and satins. -And when I die it looks like that I shall see my son at the -horn for cleading of his wife according to the degree of -a queen.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For young Patrick Agnew liked better than all to be for -ever gadding about after the merchants of France and the -Low Countries, who knew his weakness so well that they -would come from far to sell him stuff for the decking of his -lady—who, when all was said and done, was nothing to -compare to Nell or even to Marjorie, her younger sisters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we departed, almost heart-broken to leave the sweet -place of Lochnaw. And the Sheriff rode with us to the -village of Stranrawer—a long, clarty, Irish-looking street -with pigs and bairns running about it, set on the shore of -a fine loch. Here Sir Andrew and his retinue bade us -farewell, and so turned them and rode away back to the -homely steading of Lochnaw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, upon our homeward journey it was the great -good pleasure of the knight, my master, that we should ride -up the Minnoch Glen to visit my father and mother, whom -I had not seen for long. Sir Thomas put it, that it would -be well that we rode not directly by Ardstinchar and near -to Bargany along the shore road, for the folk of Bargany -were cruelly set against us. Nevertheless, I knew that the -real reason was that he wished me to see my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we struck across the moorland country of Wigtonshire -to the head of the Loch of Cree, which is a vast, wild, -swampy place where many waterfowl congregate, and where -duck and seagull build their nests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we breasted the swelling moors, we came in sight of -the mountains that were dear to me, for I was hill-bred and -loved them—so that I could have ridden on, carolling like -a lark, had I been in any other company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Sir Thomas and Nell knew what was in my heart, -for as we rode up Minnoch they looked at each little thatched -cot-house, and asked what it might be called—which was -most amiable of them, for I loved to tell over the well-kenned -names, though the hearing of them could not possibly have -pleasured Nell or her father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we came to the brow of the hill, along the side -of which runs the track to the Rowan Tree, I begged of -them that I might ride a little way in front, in order to -prepare my father and mother for their reception. Really, -I went because I did not wish them to see me meet my -mother, for I knew that I was bound to weep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it fell not out as I had expected, for the dogs that -were about the farm came barking and youching round the -corner, and I saw the rough head of our herd laddie looking -out of the barn. Then he scudded across the yard like a -hare, and, anon, there came my mother forth, with a white -hood upon her head, and girt about with her apron—even as -she had been when, as a boy, I used to come pelting home -from the hills, hungrily looking for a piece and a slockening -drink of milk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So she came own the little loaning to meet me, nearly -running in her eagerness, I declare. And there, at the -gate-slap, I leaped down from Dom Nicholas and took my -mother about the neck, greeting like a great silly bairn. -But for my life I could not help it. Yet I need not have -cared, for Nell and Sir Thomas were admiring something -on the hills, with their heads close together; and over my -shoulder I could hear him pointing out to her the road to -Straiton, and the way across the hills to Girvan—so they -observed not my weakness.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came Sir Thomas forward, and I presented him to -my mother. Whereupon he greeted her by the name of -Lady Kirrieoch, for that was a title of courtesy to a -laird's wife. And though Kirrieoch is but a little place -and a wild, uncouth holding, yet Sir Thomas walked by my -mother's side, leading his horse and talking, with his hat in -his hand all the while, as if she had been the Queen of Scots -herself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as I looked steadfastly away towards the wind, so -that they should not see that I had been weeping, and also -to let the air dry my eyes (for such weakness is ridiculous in -a man), Nell came riding by on her palfrey. She cast a little -glance about her to see that none observed, a look quick and -timorous. Then she leaned over and gave me a light little -pat on the cheek with her hand—a thing she never did -before, but which I liked very well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came out my father to meet us at the door, and -Sir Thomas took him by the hand heartily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You and I, Laird,' he said, 'are not so young as we -were at the King's muster on the Boroughmuir, and when -you held the colours of Cassillis, even as your son does this -day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, Sir Thomas,' said my father, 'brittle bones, slack -sinew, thin-sown hair have come to us both since that day, -when it was my good fortune to serve with you and under -you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, Kirrieoch,' replied the Tutor of Cassillis, 'I envy -you here on your high and heartsome muirs, where the wild -cats are your greatest enemies, and naught more dangerous -than the erne ever stoops to slay.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a gye hard struggle at times,' replied my father, -'with Launcelot away and only two old bodies left with the -serving men.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, bide a wee,' said the Tutor. 'I have made it my -business to see that in a little, when the lad has won his spurs, -you shall have Launcelot back with something worth while -in his pouch, and a handle to his name as good as the lave of -us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am glad that you have such good reports to give of -him,' said my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said the Tutor of Cassillis, drolling, 'I am none -so sure of that. He has enough conceit of himself, indeed. -But in his presence we will not say more.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And then my mother set the table for us with her own -hands, though Sir Thomas insisted that she should not; but -with all due acknowledgment of his courtesy, my mother -continued the work with dignity and grace. Besides which, -I question whether at the moment Susan, the byre lass, was -dressed fitting to come into a room where there was the -company of great folk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was more than pleasant to see Nell rise to help -my mother to spread the cloth and lay out the silver spoons. -We had the best of muirland fare—mutton of the sweetest, -black-faced and small, toothsomely fed on the sweet, tender -grasses that nestle among the heather-knowes. Also we -had sweet milk, oaten cake of a rare crispness, a kebbuck of -rich cheese, and butter, as the Scriptures say, in a lordly -dish, for the vessel was of silver, and had upon it the -ancient arms of the Kennedies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Tutor picked it up and looked at it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'These are the bearings of my great-grandfather!' he -exclaimed, much astonished.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yes,' said my father; 'and he was also my grandfather.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bless me!' cried the Tutor of Cassillis; 'I knew not -that we were so nearly related.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all through the remainder of our stay he called my -father 'cousin.' And as for Mistress Nell, there was no -end to her merriment on the subject.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now we shall fight more than ever,' she said, 'for we -Kennedies always fight with our cousins. And I must find -the handle of the hayrake with which I used to beat my -cousin Philip. It will serve excellently for drubbing -Launcelot, my new sweet coz!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last we rode away, and Nell Kennedy kissed my -mother lovingly when we bade farewell, so that my heart -warmed more than ever to the lass.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Waeheartedly enough we left the little white housie -behind us, sitting blythsome on its brae above the white -stones of the burn. And in my imagination to this very -day, whenever I am away from the Minnoch for long, rises -a clear picture of the water-side as we saw it that morning—a -wide valley filled to the brim with sunshine and the stir -of breathing airs, the whaups and peesweeps beginning to -build, and keeping up all the time above our heads a brave -welter of crying and the whistle of eddying wings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wonder not that sometimes you grow homesick,' said -Nell Kennedy. 'When you are distracted and morose, I -shall now know the reason.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we came in due season to the house of Culzean, and -there we found all well, with James playing tennis -contentedly in the court; and Sandy, up at the stables, acting -the big man and giving his orders as large as my lord.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="warm-backs-make-braw-bairns"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">WARM BACKS MAKE BRAW BAIRNS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was the morning of the 11th of May, and we were on the -morrow to take our journey to the town of Edinburgh. I -had advertisement the night before that I was to ride to the -town of Maybole to meet John Mure of Auchendrayne, -and on my master's account to appoint a tryst with him at the -Duppil, not far from the town of Ayr, for my Lord -desired not to pass through that place, knowing that many of -the faction of Bargany abode there. But Sir Thomas ever -believed that Auchendrayne was of those that wished him -well, because of the marriage and of all that had passed -between them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I had to ride on this mission that I loved not over -well. But I had nought to say. For whenever I spake to -the Tutor concerning John Mure, he would clap me on the -head and say, 'Ye are overcareful and suspicious, Launcelot. -John Mure and I are fathers of the same pair of bairns, -wherefore, then, should we not be as one—even as they?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Poor man—I could not find it in my heart to tell him -of the happening beneath the town-gate of Maybole, when -James Mure's wife bade farewell to Gilbert Kennedy of -Bargany, as he lay there dead on his enemies' spears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So at early morning I rode as I was bidden to Maybole -to meet the Laird of Auchendrayne, who, as my master -knew, had some business there. But it so fell out that I -missed him, for he had lodged all night in the town at the -Black House, which belongs to one Kennedy of Knockdone, -a friend of his and of the Laird of Newark's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was loath to ride all the way after him to Auchendrayne, -and so bethought me that I should get the loan of a -laddie from my crony, Dominie Mure, out of his school at -the foot of the Kirkwynd. My way led me by the Green, -where it was sorely in my mind to try a stroke of the ball. -But I remembered me that Sir Thomas bade me be soon back, -that I might be ready to ride with him on the morrow's -morn to the town of Edinburgh by Duppil and the Ford -of Holmestone. So, though I saw some brisk birkies -licking at the ball, one of them being Laigh-nosed Jamie -Crawford that had his nose flattened with the stroke of a -golf ball on the hills of Ayr, I refrained me for that time -and went to seek a boy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I saw none on the Green, saving some raggedy -loons playing kick-ball, whom I did not like to trust with -so important a message. I went on, therefore, to the -schoolhouse. And as I went it cheered me to think on Dominie -Mure and his humours, for he and I had been gossips of a -long season.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The schoolhouse of Maybole was a curious building -tacked on to the rear of the kirk, with vaulted passages of -timber, in which were doors which could on occasion be -opened, so that the school itself might be used as an addition -to the kirk should the latter be crowded. But in my time -the space was but seldom in demand. It was an age of iron, -and men's minds craved not naturally that which was -peaceable and good. The old Papistry had passed away, but the -new religion had not yet grown into the hearts of the people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I came to the schoolhouse door. The noise of conning -lessons that used to go humming all along the Kirk Vennel -was louder than it was wont to be. Indeed, I thought that -of a surety Dominie Mure had gone as far as the change-house -for his morning glass of strong waters, wherein I did -that worthy man an injury. The dominie's Highland pipes -lay on the desk before him, the great drones looking out -like eyes at the scholars. They were the recreation of his -leisure, for he had been in his youth in the savage North, -and had learned to be no ill-considered performer even in -the country of pipes and pibrochs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked within, and there, mounted upon two desks -and a chair, stood the Dominie with his head through a -round hole in the boards of the roof, and all that one -could see of him convulsed with animation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The bairns below were in a great consternation, crying -out that this one and that other was misbehaving—that -Robin Gibb was pinching, or that Towhead Kennedy -was in the act of some piece of villainy which remained -unexpressed, for the obvious reason that the heavy hand -of Towhead Kennedy had prisoned the information within -the mouth of the tale-bearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The school of Maybole was an apartment nearly square, -with a dark, well-hacked oaken writing-desk running round -two sides of it, and benches set cross-ways on the floor, -where, when the peace was undisturbed by internal war, -the bairns conned their tasks from worn copies of the -Bible.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the far end of the school was a wooden bar a foot from -the floor, and a little behind it another. This was called the -hangman, for it was the post of judgment to unruly boys, -who were called upon to kneel over the first bar and grasp -the second, thus putting themselves into a proper position -for the operations of the fiery and untender little Dominie. -The desk of the master had a framework behind it, in -which were half-a-dozen birch rods, carefully kept and -oiled, even as I keep my stands of arms,—for the callants -of Maybole have ever been unruly, and so remain to -this day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dominie Mure was in stature the least, but in learning, -I can well believe, the greatest of dominies, for he was -never without two or three scholars in the Latin. It was -whispered by the malicious that he had been trained for a -clerk in the old days of the Roman Church, but made a -false step, and so had to turn dominie. Taking the words -at their usual meaning, I utterly condemn and reject this -lying, malicious explanation, for Dominie Mure was the -least handsome man in Carrick. He was little, scarce -bigger than many boys of twelve and fourteen who sat -in his class in the New Testament—which was naturally -the class beneath the Old Testament.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His hair grew all over his head and face, grey, wiry and -rough, like burned heather. Out of this tangle a pair of -humorsome eyes looked, and a stout nose projected like the -angle of an overgrown and ruined building. His arms were -long, and so strong that he could lift any lad in the school -into the air with one of them, while he gave him 'paikie' -with the other. So fierce and fiery was the little man, that -no one of the great stalwart loons who came in the winter-time -dared to try their pranks upon him. He would fly at -them swift as the wild cat springs, and beat half-a-dozen -black and blue before they had time to rally.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What he was now doing with his head through the -ceiling I could not well imagine. But there was a great -noise aloft and a rushing of feet, while the master made -desperate dives hither and thither, like a man in deep water -and not well able to swim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Beneath, one little rascal of a bare-legged loon rose from -the seat where he had been sitting squirming at his copy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Dominie is lost!' he cried in great pretended -alarm. 'Oh, sirs, where is our Dominie? Look in the -ink-horns, lassies. Look in a' your pouches, laddies!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so all the ill-set vagabonds rose and began to search -the ink-horns, the dinner wallets, and even in the rat holes -for the master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at this moment there was a crash, and first one and -then another pair of legs appeared dangling through the -ceiling, wildly kicking. The head of the Dominie returned -through the hole in the ceiling, and he cautiously descended. -His face was damp with perspiration from his exertions aloft, -and he had his longest and stoutest birch rod, which was of -the thickness of one's forefinger, in his hand. There was a -great streak of soot across his nose—which indeed was about -all that there was for it to cross, the rest of his face being -but a grey tangle of hair.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dominie Mure came forward to where I stood by the -door. He greeted me right heartily, and not the less when -I told him on whose account I was there, for he had often -been summoned over to drink a pint with Sir Thomas at the -inn or in his own town house, because my master ever -loved all learned men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bide a wee,' he said, 'till I attend to these rascal loons. -They climbed up through the hole in the ceiling, when I was -at Deacon Gilroy's funeral, to get the store of balls, knuckle-bones, -chuckie stones, and other things the bairns throw up -there. I kenned well they would fall through.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the Dominie took a much thinner and suppler bundle -of birch, gave it a draw through his hand and a swish or two -in the air, which made the dangling legs kick more wildly -than ever—it might be with pleasure and it might be with -painful anticipation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Dominie Mure walked to the place and set a chair for -himself to stand upon.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wha belangs thae legs?' he asked of the scholars.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They are Tammy Nisbett's,' said the school with one -voice, 'we ken by his duddy breeks!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And whose limbs are these—to whom do these legs -belong?' he continued, pointing to certain red objects that -twinkled in frantic endeavours to be free.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jock Harrison's,' answered the school without a -moment's hesitation; 'they are clouted wi' his mither's -auld petticoat!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the master did his office affectionately upon those -parts of Tommy Nisbett and Jock Harrison which of their -own accord the adventurous loons had exposed. The -thwacks resounded through the school, but the yells mostly -ascended through the roof. Then, when he had finished -his pleasure—for I saw by his eye it was no unwelcome -task—he put up an arm, and without circumspection -pulled the squirming urchins through the rotten boards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thomas Nisbett,' he said severely, 'your faither is an -householder. He shall pay for the damage done to the -ceiling of this schule, which is the property of the Session -of the parish, of which I am clerk. And your faither can -take the price out of your breeks himsel' at his leisure.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He then hauled the other down in the same manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Jock Harrison, I'll never trouble your puir mither -about the siller for the repairs. She has enough to do with -ten like you. But I'll e'en pay your hurdies the noo, and -quit your mother and you too, at the one settlement.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which having done, he laid down his bundle of rods, -dusted his hands, and commended himself to me to know -how, and in what manner, he might serve my master. I -told him that if he would write a letter to John Mure -of Auchendrayne to bid him meet with Sir Thomas at -the Chapel of St Leonard's by the sandhills of Ayr, on -the morrow's morn at ten of the clock, and send it to -Auchendrayne by one of his most trustworthy lads, it would be -no small obligation. And furthermore that I would await an -answer here in Maybole, having other business to transact.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good faith, Master Launcelot, I will do that—and -gladsomely,' said the little Dominie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, having brought the school to order and set the -classes to their work, he squared himself at his desk, and -wrote fairly and elaborately as I told him. For the little -man prided himself on his penmanship—which, indeed, Sir -Thomas ever said was better than that of any law scrivener -in Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I reminded him of this, and Dominie Mure could hardly -contain himself for pride. How strange that so small a -thing should set up some men!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, when he had finished and addressed it in the -Italian manner, he called out, 'William Dalrymple, come -hither!' And, from the close-built ranks of the older -scholars at the wall-desks, a plump-faced, ruddy boy arose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This,' the Dominie said, 'is the son of a widow woman, -and a steady lad that will truly do your message and bring -you word again without delay or falsehood. He is called for -a nickname Willie Glegfeet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So to William was delivered the letter and sundry copper -coins for running the errand. Whereupon he took up the -Vennel and through the High Street on the way to -Auchendrayne like a hunted hare, for, as his name -imports, he was wonderfully nimble of his feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having thus delivered my message, I thanked the -Dominie very heartily, and went to the play of the golf -green till the messenger should return.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had an excellent game, but, not playing with mine -own clubs, I was beaten (though not at a great odds), by -the young Laird of Gremmat, whose chin was hardly yet -better of the cleaving it got on the fatal day at the Lady's -Carse. But this interfered naught with his putting. Now -gaming on the green is uncommonly fretting to the temper, -and more especially when you are losing with a man like -Gremmat, who cries and shouts at every good stroke of -his own and dispraises yours. Yet, owing to the well-kenned -equality of my temper, and also because he was not -yet fully recovered of his wound, I did not clout him over -the sconse with my cleek, as I certainly was in a great -mind more than once to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were yet hard at it, and the afternoon wearing on -apace when I saw the little Dominie coming toward us -with the boy William Dalrymple by his side. The schoolmaster -held the letter in his hand and gave it back to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'William Dalrymple says that he found not the Laird of -Auchendrayne in his own house, and has therefore brought -back the letter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked at it a moment, turning it over in my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It has been opened,' said I. 'See, the wax is gone, -and there are finger-marks within.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So, indeed, it has,' said Dominie Mure. 'Boy, if you -have opened it I will tan you alive, outside and in.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereat the boy began to weep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have said what I was told to say,' he cried, and for -all we could do, nothing more could we get out of him—save -that a dark man, faced like an ape or a wild beast, had -come some way home behind him and sorely terrified him. -So we sent the boy back to his mother, and, bidding -farewell for that time to the Dominie and to young Gremmat, -I fared along the way to Culzean to make me ready for the -long journey of the morrow.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-murder-among-the-sandhills"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MURDER AMONG THE SANDHILLS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was broad day and a pleasant May morn, when my -master and I said our farewells at the gate of Culzean. -With my own hands I had saddled for Sir Thomas his -warhorse. But he, coming down arrayed in his plain suit of -dark Flemish cloth, bade me take him back to the stable -and get instead a pacing palfrey, which he loved because -Marjorie had used to ride it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he kissed his bairns, for the lads and Nell stood by -the door on the landward side, watching us with earnest -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Keep the castle, James,' he cried, 'till I come back!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' said Sandy, 'we will keep it for you, faither.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Sandy came ever to the forefront, setting himself -naturally before the slow and quiet Jamie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Nell came near and kissed her rather. But she -and I only looked the one at the other as friends look, for -at least before folk we did not so much as touch hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So down through the woods Sir Thomas and I went -sedately and quietly, now into little caller blinks of morning -sunshine which glinted straight and level between the trees, -and anon coming out upon a bare knoll as into a room with -a removed and spacious ceiling. For there at our feet was the -plain of the sea, sparkling and blue, beyond it again the hills -of Arran, and to the south the shoulder of the Craig of Ailsa, -heaving its bulk skyward like a monster of the ocean stranded -in the shoreward shallows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Very pleasant was my master's discourse as we went, of -the wonderful peace that he was going to bring upon the -land of Carrick from his dealings with the King and Council -in Edinburgh. Specially he spoke with thankfulness of the -present friendship of Auchendrayne, of the young Bargany -who should for long be under tutors and governors, and of -our own Earl, now tired of the feud and eager for a lasting -peace.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It needs,' said he, 'but that one should take on him all -the burden and heat of the day, and carry the matter -through. And I, that am no warrior, but a quiet man -dwelling in mine own house and fit only for daunering -about mine own fields, may be able to do more in the -matter than many battalions. For I have some influence -with the King—a man that loves grave discourse upon -occasion.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So pleasantly talking together in this fashion, speaking -ever the kindliest things of the enemies of his house, and -all the time making many excuses for them, Sir Thomas -kept his palfrey at the amble.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently we came to the castle of Greenan, which -stands on a sea crag, and looks right bravely over the Bay -of Ayr and down upon the little town thereof. It belongs to -Kennedy of Balterson, a gossip and well-wisher of Culzean's.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now,' said my master, 'I must see if Balterson is at -home. I think truly that he is, for there is a reek coming -up very freely from the lum. Now John was ever a big -eater and a long lier abed in the mornings. What a -pleasantry if I should raise him from between the blankets! -It would be a great cast-up all the days of his life.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we lighted down in front of the castle yett. I tied -the horses together, and walked about the cliff edge, looking -out to sea and over the sands of Ayr, thinking of many -things. Mostly my thoughts ran on the treasure of -Kelwood, and whether I should ever win it. Of Nell, -too, and what she meant by patting me on the cheek -when we met my mother, of the Tutor's words to my -father that one day I should have a handle to my name -and a down-sitting as good as any. Plenty of pleasant -things I had to think about that caller morn in May, as -indeed a young man of spirit ought to have.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was not very long before Sir Thomas came forth -arm in arm with John Kennedy of Balterson, a grave and -portentous man of heavy figure, richly arrayed, more like the -provost of a town than a country laird. And these two paced -up and down the narrow terrace walk of Greenan Castle, -turning and returning, wheeling and countering as on the -quarterdeck of a ship. But of the matter of their discourse -I know nothing, though I guessed it to have been concerning -the making up of peace between the feudal enemies in -the lands of Carrick and Kyle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was near to ten of the clock, and already close upon -the time which had been appointed for the tryst with -Auchendrayne, that we mounted at the yett of Greenan to -ride on our way to Holmestone Ford.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sorry am I,' said my master, 'that I have not spoken a -word with John Mure ere I go. But I know his loving desire -for my success, and he well knows my affection for him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We rode down from the castle crag of Greenan, and -presently came out upon the links. These are here all -sandy, cast up into rounded mounds and hills, and bitten -into by the little pits and dungeons, called of them that -play at the golf, 'bunkers.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot, ride a little way in front. It approaches -the hour of noon, and I would do my devotion and meditate -a little alone,' said Sir Thomas to me. So I drew myself -a bowshot before him, riding upon Dom Nicholas, and -taking my hat in my hand. I rode easily, enjoying the -sea breeze that cooled my brow and tossed my hair. I -wondered if ever the time would come, when I also should -be thinking about my religion at noon of a fine -heartsome day. It seemed a strange time enough for a hale, -well-to-do gentleman to set to his prayers.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently I saw a man standing upon my right hand somewhat -above me upon the crown of a sandhill. And he raised -his hand as one that cried to clear the course in the game, so -I thought no more of the matter. But I looked round, -thinking perchance that he cried to my master, who was -riding with bared head and holding his little red Testament -in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly, even as I looked at him, I heard the sound of -shots behind me, and, turning Dom Nicholas, I saw my -master reel in his saddle, with white blowing puffs of -gunpowder rising all about him, from behind the desolate -sandhills among which the murderers had hidden themselves. -Drawing my sword, I set spurs to the sides of Dom -Nicholas and galloped towards them. I was aware, as I rode, -of my master lying on his back on the sand, and his palfrey -galloping away with streaming mane. A little black -crowd of men stood and knelt about him, and I saw the -flash of steel again and again as one and another of them -lifted a knife and struck.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I yelled aloud to them in my agony and bade them wait -till I came. So they hasted to make front against me, some -of them leaping on their horses and others biding a moment -to put as it had been booty into their saddle wallets.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was Thomas Kennedy, called the Wolf of Drummurchie, -that withstood me as I came thus furiously upon -Dom Nicholas. With him I first crossed swords, while -one, James Mure of Auchendrayne, held off a little warily, -watching to win in at me when I should give him -opportunity. With the corner of my eye I saw the same -man whom I had at first observed making the warning -signal. He held up his hand as before. Then he leaped -on a horse which he had by him in a hollow of the -sands. He was, as I noted, a tall man, with a hat pulled -low over his eyes, and he wore about him the long grey -cloak which had been so fatal a sign to us of Cassillis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But ere I could see more, I was in the thick of the -murderers with my sword. I struck and warded, not -knowing what I did, but only striking, with the anger of -blood in my eye, till I gave Drummurchie a cut on the -shoulder, which made him fain to shift his sword arm. -Then I wheeled and attacked Cloncaird as furiously, who -was a great mountain of a fellow, red of face and brutal -of heart. And I had readily enough done for him, too, -had he been alone, for he was no man of his weapons. -But I could see plainly enough three or four others charging -pistols and training of hackbutts, making ready to take -an aim at me. Whereupon I knew that there was no -use of spending my life for naught. So, with my sword -red in my hand, I rode over the sandhills straight at the -tall man in the grey cloak; but such was the effect of an -ill conscience that he took his mantle about his mouth as one -that fears being known, and set spurs to his horse. I had -not pursued far when I came to the top of a dune and saw -a little cloud of citizens that played at the clubs beneath -me. To them I rode as hard as I could, with the murderers' -bullets splattering here and there and throwing up little -spirts of sand about me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Murder! Foul murder!' I cried. 'Come hastily, for -the Tutor of Cassillis is done to death!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One of the citizens held up his hand to me as if to bid -me be silent, for it was the putting stroke which his neighbour -played, and of its kind difficult, so that men held their -breath. But when it was made and the ball holed, they ran -to me quickly enough, for, alas! murder was so common -in those days, that men took little notice unless he that -fell was one who was some kin to themselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, they hasted when I cried who was my -master, and who were the villains that beset him. For the -players were all burghers of Ayr and feared that they should -underlie the angers of the Earl and of the King, if they gave -not ready help when this slaughter was done, as it were, at -their very gates.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus very quickly we came to my dear master. He -was lying alone on his back quietly gazing up to the sky, -the red blood welling from many ghastly wounds. All his -rich plain Flanders cleading was torn and disarranged by the -villains, who had not disdained to despoil after that they had -murdered him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet there was some life left in him, and he turned his -head, smiling as if thankful (after the hateful faces of his -cruel enemies) to gaze at the last upon the countenances of -friends. He was, as I thought, past speech; but he looked -about him in a certain curious way he had when he had lost -something, and, being absent-minded, knew not for the -moment what. I showed him his empty purse; but it -was not that. So I looked round and saw nothing but -some discharged pistols lying with broken lingels abroad -upon the sand, and the little book he had been reading as -his palfrey paced along.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So as soon as I showed the latter to him he put out his -hand for it. Then he held it a moment, kissed it, and gave -it back to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be a good lad,' he said quietly and composedly. 'Fear -not for me; I go in friendship with all men. Poor, poor -Cloncaird!' he said, thinking of one of his murderers whom -he had always befriended, 'it is a pity for his wife and -young family!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he closed his eyes and we thought he had already -passed from us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But presently he opened them again and looked toward me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be kind to Nelly!' he said, smiling so kindly at me, -that my heart nearly broke. He shook his head at seeing -my grief and the tears running down, for, indeed, I could -not withhold them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is no need,' he said, reprovingly, 'no need for -the like of that ava'. Be a brave lad, Launcelot, and just -as true to your God as you have proved to me, who have -been a loving master to you here below. I am only wae -for the poor, misguided lads, that were so far left to -themselves as to lay me here like this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that there was but his body on the sands, for -the spirit of the gentlest master that ever a man served had -gone its way to its own Master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was even as he said—for the end of such an one -there is no need of tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I stood up, and the terrible thought came in upon -me like Solway tide. How—how shall I take him home to -Helen Kennedy—to his orphaned bairns, and to the stricken -house of Culzean?</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="i-seek-for-vengeance"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">I SEEK FOR VENGEANCE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Ay, well might I say it. How was I to face Nell -Kennedy—she that had with a long, kindly look committed -her father into my keeping that very morning? Tenderly -we lifted the body, which in life had been so noble and now -was so pitifully mishandled. The villains had despoiled the -dainty garmentry, torn the lace, and snatched the jewellery -which Helen Kennedy had set in place as, daffing right -merrily, she prepared her father (as she said) to 'gang worthily -and bonnily before the King.' But the King he went before -was One, as he himself would often say, that looked not on -the outer appearance but on the heart. And concerning that -last Thomas Kennedy need have had no fear that his would -not be well looked upon—for it was upright, and kindly, and -true, nor did it ever move to the hurt of any man in all this -world. And as I took him up, I saw still more clearly the -black-hearted rage of the persecutors. For it showed as -manifestly as any other fact the hellish intent of the murderers, -that they had taken time, even while I was in the act to -come at them, to despoil my master of his purse with a -thousand merks of gold therein. Nay, his very ring of fine -diamonds they tore from his finger, and his golden buttons -of wrought goldsmith work were riven from his frilled -sark—one murderous loon snatching one thing and the other -another, worse than brute beasts of the field.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We laid him gently upon the back of wise Dom Nicholas, -that all the time stood like a statue, and then when everything -was ready, moved graciously and soberly away, as though he -had been well aware of the melancholy burden he bore. -Even thus we brought my dear master to the sea terrace -of Greenan which he had so lately left.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when John Kennedy of Balterson heard the trampling -of the horse on the flags of the court, he came out -crying loudly and heartily as was the manner of the man.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wi' what's this, Culzean? Are ye back again?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So running to the door he stood with his table-knife in -his hand and a bit of his mid-day meal thereupon, astonished -beyond the utterance of words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What's this? What's this?' he cried. 'Oh, sirs, -what foul wark is here? Wha has done this?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I told him their names—at least so far as I knew -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thomas of Drummurchie!' he cried. 'It shall not -be the uplands of Barr parish that shall keep ye frae the stark -sword of John Kennedy of Balterson. And thou, Walter -Mure of Cloncaird, that has so often sat in this house of the -Greenan, by the grace of God I shall lay thee as low as -thou hast laid my friend this day.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I begged Balterson to think of something else than -the taking of revenge—of which all in good time. So -presently he got me a horse litter with two steady-going -beasts, and I walked alongside it with Dom Nicholas arching -his head and treading softly as if he also mourned. Thus -we came to the town of Maybole, which was as our own -place. And such dule and lament as there was that day saw -I never anywhere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the town had loved him as its liege lord, far more -than either John, Earl of Cassillis, or his father the King -of Carrick. Such a congregation as met us at the town -gate! The women all crying the cry of death, the men -cursing and calling vengeance. The minister was there -to pray, and all classes and conditions were moved to -tears.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And ere we were well past the Foul Alley there were -twenty men on horseback to chase the murderers, with -John Kennedy of Balterson at their head. But they might -as well have chased the wind, for by this time, with the -relays of horse that had been ordered for them, they were -safe among the wild Crauford country on the borders -of Kyle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Of the sad homecoming to Culzean itself I declare I -cannot write at length. At the entering in of the -woodland I left them, and upon Dom Nicholas I rode drearily -forward to do the bitterest day's work of my life—to tell -Helen Kennedy that I brought only her father's corpse -home with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, as the chance befell, it was at least half-a-mile before I -reached the home gate of Culzean, just where one sees for the -first time the grey turrets sitting against the dimpled blue of -the incoming tide, that I was aware of Nell Kennedy coming -light-foot towards me, singing a catch of a song and swaying -a flourish of sweet may-blossom daintily in her hand. I -have never rightly loved the white hawthorn since that day. -But as soon as she saw me she stopped her song and -clutched her fingers close upon her palm, for the flowery -branch had fallen at her feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What is wrong?' she cried, when I came near to her. -But I could not answer till I had leaped from Dom Nicholas -and taken her by the hand. She turned round, keeping me -at the stretch of her arm so that she might read the news, -good or bad, in my eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is it my father? Tell me,' she said very calmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nell, it is your father,' I said as quietly. 'They set -upon him and hurt him, even when he had sent me on -a little way before him that he might be alone at his -mid-day meditation—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is he dead—tell me—is he dead?' she broke in. But -I answered her not; for I could not. So she knew, and -in an instant grew as pale and still as the man that was -passed from us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take me to him,' she said at length. And, seeing that -I still hesitated, she said, 'Do not fear for me. I will do all -that a daughter of Culzean should do.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They are bringing him hither now,' I said. 'I came -hasting to tell you. The feet of the horses that carry him -are even now upon the brae.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, when I had told her all, I ended the tale with my -tears and with crying out that which was in my heart, 'Oh, -would to God I had died instead of him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot,' Nell said, with a wonderful quiet, 'that is -useless, and not well said. Be comforted. None would -have done one-tenth so much as thou hast.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bless you, Nell!' I said, for I had feared greatly she -would have broken upon me with bitter railing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was by the great oak tree which sends its boughs over -the road that we met the bier, and the horses stopped. Even -thus Nell Kennedy met her father, and there was not a -tear on her face, but only a great sweet calm. She silenced -the noisy limmer wives that went behind crying and -mourning aloud. So in this manner we went onward to Culzean, -Nell walking on one side of the bier and I on the other, -leading Dom Nicholas by the bridle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And lo! as the body passed the drawbridge, a sudden -gust out of the sea snatched his knightly pennon from the -topmost turret tower of the battlements of Culzean, which -was held a freit and a warning by all the folk of Carrick. -But though the master had come home to his own, yet both -Culzean and I were now masterless.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In due time we gave him stately funeral, carrying him -forth upon a day so calm, so breathless, that the banners did -not wave as they swept the dust. And thereafter all life -seemed to stop, when we came home again to the darkened -house. James and Sandy, the two young lads, played no -more in the tennis-courts, but went about with linked arms -speaking of revenge. But little David abode with Nell and -went forth only with her, clinging winsomely to her hand; -for we kept us close within bars and warded ramparts, with -the drawbridge up, watching the fruit ripening on the walls -of the orchard of Culzean all that splendid summer of the -murder of our lord and master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly I thought over many things, till the resolve to bring -the matter to a head came masterfully upon me. From the -Earl as Bailzie of Carrick I got warrant, according to my dead -master's word and direction, to be doer-in-ordinary for the -young man James, who was now the heir of Cassilis. For -Earl John knew that Launcelot Kennedy was no self-seeker; -also they that stood about had told to him the Tutor's last -words—that I was to be a good lad and to be kind to Nelly. -It was Adam Boyd of Penkil, and David Somerville, hosier -in Ayr, who told him this, and they were two of those that -played golf by the sandhills on the day of that foul slaying -under trust.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-blue-blanket"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE BLUE BLANKET</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Yet because I needed advice and had none to give it, I rode -one day to Edinburgh to see Maister Robert Bruce. I -found the whole city in an uproar. There was the beating -of drums in all the streets and closes, and a great multitude -of the common folk crying out 'For God and the Kirk!' Pikes -danced merrily along the causeways, and good wives' -heads were thrust through all the port-holes in the windings -of the stairs. Their voices, shrill and vehement, kept up a -constant deafening clamour, each calling to her John or -Tam to 'come awa' in oot o' that,' or bidding them 'not -to mell wi' what concerned them not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What concern is the glory o' God o' yours—you that -is but a baker in Coul's Close?' I heard one wife cry to -her man, and it seemed to me a mightily pertinent question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last, after many inquiries, I heard how the Minister -of Edinburgh had bearded the King, so that he was gone -off to Linlithgow in great indignation, and how that in -a day or two Maister Robert Bruce would either be King -of Scotland or lay his head on the block.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet the minister was in his study chamber when I went -to seek him, reading of his Bible and writing his sermon, as -quietly as though there had been no King in Scotland—save, -as it might be, the King in whose interest he had so often -bearded King Jamie Stuart, sixth of that name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert Bruce looked up when he saw me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, Launcelot,' he cried, more heartily than ever I had -heard him, 'ken ye, lad, that you are likely to be at the -horn for communing with a wild rebel like me?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To be "at the horn" is no uncommon thing in Carrick,' -I replied, 'and makes little difference either to the length of -a man's life or the soundness of his sleep. I have been at -the horn ever since I was eighteen years of my age.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, Launcelot,' he said soberly, 'so it has turned -out even as I said. I know—I know. It is not in man -that walketh to direct his steps. But I saw ye were all -"fey" at Culzean.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I told him the purpose of my coming all the way -to Edinburgh to see him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What!' he said, 'ye have never come so far only to -have speech of poor Robert Bruce, that was yesterday -Minister of Edinburgh, and to-day is, I fear, doomed to lay -his head on the hag-clog?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him it was even so, and that, being the man -of wisest counsel I had ever known, I would have gone ten -times as far to have his friendly advice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay me,' he said sadly, 'wae is the man that has such -a rumour and report of wisdom, yet cannot counsel himself -what he should do in his own utter need.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, for all that, he went over everything that had -happened in Carrick, with a clearness most like that of a -lawyer when he sets in order his case before the judge. -Then he sat a long while silent, with his finger tips -drumming idly upon his writing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So Bargany is dead,' he said at last. 'He was the only -considerable man of his own faction. Who is there to -succeed him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But a child!' said I, 'one that plays with puppets.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'As do we all, Launcelot,' said Maister Bruce, smiling -on me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And after him in that faction, of his own house and -kin who comes—?' he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There are none besides the Tutor's murderer, Thomas -of Drummurchie, and Benane his brother, but he is a -deboshed man and of no account,' I made answer, not seeing -his drift.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who leads them then—?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'John Mure of Auchendrayne is their only considerable -man, and he has waxen great and greater within these -months.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minister nodded his head and sat still as one that -considers all sides of a question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And of you that stand by the gold and blue—who -remains?' he went on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him but John, Earl of Cassillis, and his brother the -Master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And in whose friendship is the Master?' he asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In our country of Carrick he has an auld friendship -with Auchendrayne, and a good-going feud with the Earl, -his brother; but recently he has taken up with the Lord of -Garthland in Galloway and married his sister.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tell him from me,' said the minister of Edinburgh, 'to -bide close in Galloway and get him bairns in peace. For -gin he comes back to Carrick, of a surety his head shall be -the next to fall.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And why so?' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Because,' said Maister Robert Bruce, 'John Mure -designs that there shall be no power in Carrick nor in the -Shire of Ayr besides his own and that of the Earl—till he -get time to have him also killed. I tell you Auchendrayne -hath the brains of any three of you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And of the treasure of Kelwood, what?' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That,' said the minister, meditating, 'is a little forth of -my province. But, if ye will know, I think it is in the -keeping of some of Auchendrayne's tools. And I advise -you, ere ye look for revenge, to go seek for it.' I was silent, -for I hoped that he would tell me yet more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The treasure of Kelwood will lead you to your aim. -I think ye will find that the same hands which reft it away -are red with the blood of your master. And one thing I -am sure of—that within that treasure chest lie your love, -your land, and your lordship!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I asked him what he meant, but he would not tell me -more clearly. Only this he said, speaking like them that -have the second sight,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'James Stuart being what he is—a treasure-seeker—and -John, Earl of Cassillis, being what he is—a -treasure-gripper—if ye find the kist, ye have them both in your hand. -And therein (or I am a false prophet) lie, as I say, your love, -your land, and your lordship.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I asked him if he had any counsel to give me ere -I went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be brave,' he said, 'read your Testament. Tell no -lies. Carry no tales. Seek carefully for the man that wears -the grey cloak, and then for the man that runs like a beast -and carries the knife in his teeth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He went to the window as one that has spoken his last -word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hear ye that?' he said. 'That is the warrant for my -heading.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There circulated a great crowd of people without, -apprentices and suchlike mostly, with here and there among -them a decent, responsible man of the trades. They were -singing at the utmost pitch of their voices:—</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><span>'We'll hae nae mair Jeems Davie-son,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Davie's son—Davie's son!</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>We'll gie his loons the spavie sune,</span></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><span>Spavie sune, spavie sune,</span></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><span>An' the deil may tak Jeems Davie-son.'</span></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'They might as well shear my head at once as sing that -song,' said Maister Robert Bruce. 'There is nothing that -James Stuart likes so ill as to be called the son of Davie, unless -it be the man who upholds the right of private judgment!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' he cried again, 'the Blue Blanket—this waxes -serious. I must put on my gown and sally forth.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then up the Canon gate there came a great crowd of -citizens all marching together and crying, 'God and the -Kirk! God and the Kirk!' And in the midst there was -borne the famous flag that has ever staggered in the front of -a bicker, foretelling storms and the shaking of thrones—the -Blue Blanket of the trades of Edinburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Robert Bruce drew his black Geneva gown about him, -and taking his little Bible and his oak staff in his hand he -went out. As he stood forth upon his step, he was hailed -with shouts of joy and rejoicing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hearken Maister Bruce! Hear the minister! God -and the Kirk! Doon wi' Jeemie Fat-Breeks!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the Blue Blanket wavered and waggled, being -borne this way and that by the press. All about the skirts -of the crowd, and down the closes angry drums were beating, -and a hundred idle 'prentices thundered on great folk's doors -and garred the window panes rattle on the causeway—which -was a sin when glass was so dear, and to be seen in so few -places besides the citizen houses of the great.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Men of Edinburgh,' cried Bruce, 'hear your minister. -Wherefore this tumult? I bid you to depart quietly to your -homes. We have a difference with the King, it is true; -but let us who are the servants of God and of the Kirk of -Scotland settle our own affairs with the King. What is -your concern in the matter?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the more he spoke of the King the more loud grew -the tumult.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'God and the Kirk! God and the Kirk!' they cried, -and the Blue Blanket waved higher than ever, being held -up by one man standing upon the shoulders of other two.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, ay, even so; it is a good cry,' said the minister; -'but it would set you better to be a little more ready to -obey both God and the Kirk at other times. The most -part of you know not for what cause ye are come together. -Ye want to roll your minister's head in the dust—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No, no!' cried the throng; 'we will keep you safe, -or know the reason why.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Depart—scatter instantly to your firesides!' cried -Bruce. 'And so ye will the better serve the Kirk of -Scotland and me, her unworthy servant.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with this he motioned to them with his hands, -dismissing them. So great was his power that they went, -scattering like peet reek on a windy day. In a minute or -two there was not one of them to be seen on the street. -The minister and I were left alone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What think ye, Launcelot? Why stand ye so -moody?' my companion said to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him that I liked not much to tell him; that it -was no fitting thought to tell a minister.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Say on,' he said. 'I have listed to strange speeches in -my time.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well then, sir,' I made answer, 'I was thinking what -a pity to see so many limber lads with stark pikes in their -hands, and nobody a penny the worse! I would to God I -had them in Carrick. John Mure of Auchendrayne would -hear news of it right briskly.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minister clapped me on the back.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, Launce, it will be a strange Heaven that you -win to, unless you mend your ways. Ye are nocht but a -wild Carrick savage. But ye maun e'en dree your weird, -young Launcelot, and auld Robert Bruce maun dree his. -Fare ye weel.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we parted there on the steps of his own house. And -with that I betook me to horse, and forth through the -turbulent city that could yet make so little of its tulzies; -and as I went I thought, 'Lord, Lord, for one hour of -Gilbert Kennedy and me to show them a better way of it; -or even Robert Harburgh. And it would be like capturing -Heaven by violence, to enter Holyrood House in the -way of stouthrief and spulzie!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I only thought these things without intent to do -them, for I am a King's man and peaceable—besides which, -I had but lately spoken good words to a minister of religion. -Nevertheless, what a booty would there not have been in -that palace at the Canongate foot! Not that I would lay -hand upon a stiver of it, even if I got the chance, but the -thought of it was marvellously refreshing, I own.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="greek-meets-greek"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">GREEK MEETS GREEK.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Then as I journeyed south I saw my work set out like -a perspective before me. As the minister had said, the -treasure of Kelwood and the death of my master hung by -one string. The House of the Red Moss was very near -to the sandhills of Ayr, and there could be little doubt -that the hand which had sped the bloody dagger was the -hand that had brought my master to his death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the drawbridge clanged down for me to ride once -more within the house of Culzean, and lazy Gib stretched -himself to cry that all was well, I took a resolve. It was -to tell Helen Kennedy all that I knew, and ask her -judgment upon it—though I have small notion (for ordinary) -of women's discretion. So, when the greetings were said, -I took my opportunity and came to her when she was walking -in the garden apart, where the apple trees grow. When -she had heard all, she said, 'Launce, you and I must ride -to Auchendrayne.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said I, 'and what then? Shall we bid Grieve -Allison have our coffins in readiness against our return -feet first?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We shall see my sister Marjorie,' she said, without -heeding my words, 'and take counsel with her. They will -not kill us within the house of Auchendrayne while she -is alive.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I believe not that we shall even have the chance of -speech with her,' I replied, 'but we may at least go and -see. Whether we ever win back to Culzean is another -matter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nell was mainly set on it, and I did not counter -her, it being so that I was to ride in her company—for, -indeed, I myself desired greatly to see the famous tower -where dwelled a man so potent and so evil. The next -day it happened that I went to Maybole and found mine -ancient friend, Robert Mure, Dominie and Session Clerk -of the town. He sat gloomily in his school and bowed his -head on his hands, for he had never looked up nor taken -pleasure in life since they laid my master in the burying-place -of his folk within the kirkyaird of Maybole. The -school hummed about him, but he took little heed. His old -alertness seemed quite gone from him. And when I came -in he only lifted his head a moment and nodded, falling -back again at once into his new melancholy. His pipes -lay beside him indeed, but so long as I was there I did not -see him recreate himself upon them—as had been his ordinary -wont, playing pibrochs for his scholars' delectation at every -pause in the day's occupations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dominie,' said I, 'there is one thing I want—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Say on,' said he, briefly, not looking at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I want speech with William Dalrymple, the lad that -carried the letter to Auchendrayne the day before my -lord's death.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of what good is the like of that?' said he. 'Will -all the speech in the world bring back him that's gane?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said I, going nearer to him and speaking under -my breath, 'but it may help us to his murderer.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Eh, what?' said the master, sitting up as gleg as a cat -at a mousehole, '"His murderer," said ye? Are not Thomas -of Drummurchie and Mure of Cloncaird his declared -murderers?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' said I, 'exactly—his "declared" murderers.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Speak either less or mair—let us hae done wi' parables!' -quoth the Dominie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What think ye,' said I, 'of the Grey Man that stood -behind and waved them on, like a pilot guiding a ship into a -port? I mean the man that threw the dagger into the -Red House. I mean the man that let loose the scum of -the Tolbooth on us of Cassillis the day of "Clear the -Causeway."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And who might he be?' said the Dominie, breaking in -upon me, for some of these things he was not acquainted -with.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'First bring in the laddie,' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Dominie Mure brought Dalrymple in to a private -place, and having dismissed the school, we proceeded faithfully -to examine him. I asked him to tell me all that had -befallen that fateful day, from the time I had seen him run up -the Kirk Vennel, to the time when he came to me again -upon the green at my play, and making a poor hand of it -with another man's clubs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The boy began his tale well enough, like one that says -a well-learned lesson; but in the very midst, when, somewhat -severely, I bade him say over again what he had already said, -he broke out into a passion of weeping and begging us to -have mercy upon him—for that he was but a laddie and had -been commanded upon pain of his death to tell the tale -which he had told us at the first.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we bade him to speak freely, to tell no lie anymore -and all would yet be well. So he told us how he had gone -fleet-foot to Auchendrayne and had there found John Mure, -the master thereof, sitting in the great chamber with Walter -of Cloncaird. He described how that he had given the -letter into the Laird's hands, even as he had been bidden. -When Mure had read it, he handed it over to Cloncaird. But -he, swearing that he was not gleg at the parson-work, bade -Auchendrayne to read it aloud for him. Which, when he -did, they looked long and strangely at one another. And at -last John Mure said, 'I should not wonder, Cloncaird, but -something might come out of this.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the boy told how they had gripped him, set a -naked dagger to his throat, and afterwards made him swear -to take the letter back to them that sent him, saying that -he had gone to Auchendrayne, but had returned without -seeing the Laird.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Say,' said Mure, 'that the servant bade you take back -the letter unopened, because that his master was afield and -he knew not when he would be home. So,' concluded the -boy, 'even thus I did! And this is all the truth, or may -God strike me dead!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie and I looked each at the other in our turns.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Grey Man himself,' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The Black Deil himsel'!' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We will exorcise him, black or grey!' cried the Dominie. -'I am going direct to the bailies and elders to tell them that -this school has vacation till it pleases me to take it up -again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he went out and I waited alone with the boy -William Dalrymple, whose rosy and innocent face was -all beblubbered with weeping.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I slapped him on the shoulder and bade him take heart -because he had found friends. Then I also told him that -on the morrow he must come with me to the Earl of -Cassillis, and by-and-by it might be to the King himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will the Dominie come too?' the boy asked very -anxiously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when I told him that he would, he seemed more -satisfied, and asked leave to go home to his mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had, indeed, something to tell Nell Kennedy that -night when I rode home from Maybole. And upon the -head of it we two sat long in talk, and were more than ever -set on riding to Auchendrayne. But first we decided that -the Dominie and I should carry William Dalrymple to the -Earl, that he might certify to him what he had already -testified to us at the schoolhouse in the Kirk Vennel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But on the morrow we, that is the Dominie and I, had -it set to ride to Cassillis by way of Maybole. On the way -we came to the little hut of the widow Dalrymple, for -William was a town's bursar, and so got his learning from -the Session as a poor scholar. The door was shut, and a -neighbour's wife cried to us that both the boy and his -mother had gone on to Cassillis before us. So we rode -forward. Yet we must have missed them on the way, for -when we came to the castle yett there was nobody there -before us, and the Earl himself had ridden forth to the -hawking by the waterside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came out to us foolish Sir Thomas Tode with his -long story, which began as usual with the Black Vault of -Dunure, and was proceeding by devious ways when his wife -came round the corner—whereat right briskly he changed -his tune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And as I was saying,' he said, 'on Tuesday seven nights -we had a shrewd frost that nipped the buds.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is as well for you, old dotard,' cried his wife, -listening a moment, 'I had thought ye were at your auld tricks -again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we went in, and were busily partaking of the cheer of -Mistress Tode when we became aware of the noise of -altercation without.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Save us,' said the cook, 'it is a mercy that neither my -lord nor my lady are within gate, wi' a' that narration of -noise outbye! What can it be at a'?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she went out to inquire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But if the disturbance was loud before, it certainly -became ten times worse when Mistress Tode disappeared. I -got up to look, and the Dominie followed me. We saw a -tall, grey-haired woman stand upon the causeway of the -courtyard, with one hand on her hip, and with the other -tossing back the straying witch locks from her brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where's my boy, Mistress Tode?' cried the newcomer -fiercely, to our friend the cook, who stood upon the steps. -'What hae ye dune wi' my laddie at the black house of -Cassillis? He left his hame to come here, by command o' my -lord and young Launce of Culzean, at five this morning. -An' Jock Edgar met him set on a pony between twa men on -horseback, and he declares that the puir lad was greeting sair. -What hae ye dune wi' him, ye misleared, ill-favoured Tode -woman that ye are?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Weel ken ye, Meg Dalrymple,' cried Mistress Thomas -Tode, 'that I wadna steal ony chance-gotten loon of yours. -Faith na, I wadna fyle my parritch-spurtle on his back. -We shelter nae lazy gaberlunzie speldrons in the house of -Cassillis. There is enough rack and ruin about the countryside -as it is, withoot gatherin' in every gipsy brat and prowling -night-hawk to its walls. Gin ye come here to insult my -master, a belted Earl, I'll e'en set the dowgs on ye, ye -gruesome ill-tongued limmer woman!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw that this was to be altogether another kind of -tulzie from those clattering bickers of the sword-blades, that -I knew something about. So I signed to the Dominie to -be silent, for here of a surety were two foemen worthy of -each other's points.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye shall cast no stour in my e'en, certes,' cried Meg -Dalrymple. 'I ken ye, ye auld yeld crummie Tode. Ye -hae nae bairns o' your ain, and ye wad kidnap the bonny -bairn o' a decent woman.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I daresay no, "nae bairns o' my ain," quo' she,' cried -Mistress Tode, roused to high anger. 'I micht hae had as -mony as a clockin' hen, gin I had gane the gate ye gaed, -Meg Dalrymple. I'll hae the law on ye, ye randy, casting -up my man's infirmity to me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your "man," quo' she,' retorted Meg Dalrymple, 'ca' -ye that auld bundle o' dish-clouts tied aboot wi' hippens—a -man! Save us, one micht as soon bed ayont a pair of auld -duddy breeks!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, my man,' cried Mistress Tode, 'what hae ye to -say, ye shameless woman, again Sir Thomas Tode, that has -been Earl's chaplain for forty year and my lawfu' wedded -man for ten?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Mistress Tode rang out the titles like a herald now, -when her husband was gainsayed and made light of. -But we know that on occasions she could treat him -cavalierly enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I wad as sune mairry a heather cow for soopin' the -rink at the channel stanes,' cried Meg Dalrymple. And -this implication bit deeper into the feelings of the lady of -Sir Thomas Tode than all the other reproaches, for the -brush of tonsure hair was a sore subject of jesting with her, -as I well knew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hae telled ye,' Mistress Tode cried, pausing a moment -with her hand on her side, as if to keep command of herself, -'I hae telled ye, woman, that we only deal with kenned -and authenticate folk in this hoose—no wi' orra loons, that -nane kens wha belangs them! And I wad hae ye ken also -that I am no to be named a liar by the likes o you, Meg -Dalrymple—me that has been keeper o' the larder keys -o' this Earl's castle for fifteen year, me that has had the -outgiving o' all plenishing, the power o' down-sitting and -on-putting, and never has been checked in a bodle's worth. -Gang hame, ye Canaanitish woman, and I doot na ye'll find -your brat safe in the town's bridewell. It will learn ye to -bide from decent folk's houses, making such a cry about -your wastrel runnagates.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Keep your ill tongue for that disjaskit, ill-put-thegither -rachle o' banes that ye hae for guidman,' cried the widow -Dalrymple. 'Weel do I ken that ye hae my bairn hidden -awa' somegate amang ye. Sic a trade as has been hauden -wi' the puir bit laddie for carryin' a letter to the Laird o' -Auchendrayne. An' the like o' you to stand in my road, -Tode woman, you that is weel kenned in sax pairishes for -an ill-tongued gipsy. I'll hae ye proclaimed at the market -cross, a lord's cook though ye be, gin ye dinna gie me -hame my bairn wi' me!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Na,' said Mistress Tode, more quietly, 'an' you'll no. -Ye'll e'en ask my pardon and gang quietly away to your -hame by yoursel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And wha is gaun to gar me to that?' said Meg -Dalrymple.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just me and this bonny wee bit mannikie here,' said -Mistress Thomas Tode, turning round unexpectedly and -catching the Dominie Mure by the arm. She pushed him -forward and clapped him in a knowing way on the shoulder. -'Just this decent snod bit mannikie!' she said again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Woman,' said the Dominie, very indignantly, 'what -have I to do with your quarrels and tongue-thrashings?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Just this, honest man,' said Mistress Tode; 'ye keep -the Session records o' the parish o' Maybole. And if this -ill-tongued woman disna gang hame doucely and quaitly, -ye are the man that is going to gie me a sicht and extract -o' them, under date fourteenth o' Januar, fifteen hundred -and aughty years.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The stroke told. Meg Dalrymple grew silent. The -anger faded out of her face suddenly as the shining on wet -sea sand when you lift your foot. The warlike crook of her -elbow flattened to a droop. For the Session records of the -Kirk of Scotland are the nearest thing to the Books of the -Recording Angel, and the opening of them is a little Day -of Judgment to half the parish.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we could not let the poor woman depart in this -fashion. I stepped to the door from behind the pillar where -I had been listening for the ending of the fray.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Mistress Dalrymple,' I said, very quietly, 'your lad has -never come to Cassillis at all. We came here to meet him. -He must have lost his way.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Maister Launcelot,' said Meg Dalrymple, in a changed -voice, 'ye come o' a guid, kind hoose, and ye tell no lies. I -am free to believe you. But my bairn is tint a' the same. -What will I do! Oh, what will I do?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go home and bide quiet,' I bade her, gently. 'I shall -myself speak to the Earl. And fear not but we will find -your lad if he be in the land.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-devil-is-a-gentleman"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE DEVIL IS A GENTLEMAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>But William Dalrymple was not to be so easily gotten. -High and low he was sought for, but no trace of him was found. -A girl had seen him taking the road to Cassillis with the dust -rising behind him, as was his wont. For, as I have said, he -was the best runner in the school of Maybole, and in the -winter forenights he kept himself in fine practice with -outrunning Rob Nickerson, the town's watchman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So on a day, since no better might be, Nell Kennedy and -I rode out to Auchendrayne. At first we had it trysted to -go by ourselves, but Dominie Mare declared that he would -come with us—'and wait in the hall, if ye were asked to gang -ben',' as he said, meaningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For they might put you and the lassie awa', and never -hear mair of it. But even John Mure and his son would -think twice before they either sequestered or murdered the -Dominie o' Maybole, and the Clerk of the Kirk Session -thereof.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, though his coming with us wearied Nell and myself -somewhat and hindered our discourse on the journey, it all -turned out for the best in the end, as things that are bitter -in the taking often do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was, I will own, monstrously curious to see the tower -of Auchendrayne and the surroundings of it; for there were -strange rumours in the countryside concerning gangs of wild, -savage folk that sometimes camped under the trees, and tales -of horrid faces which might at any moment glower at you -from the dark bole of a gnarled oak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this fair sunshiny day we that rode saw nothing but -the leaves rustling and clashing above us, and heard nothing -but the sough and murmur of the Doon water beneath us. -Auchendrayne is a place hidden among woods—set on a knoll, -indeed, but with trees all about it, not conspicuous and -far-regarding like the Newark or Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When first we saw it the grey battlements looked pleasantly -enough out of the greenery, basking as peacefully in the -sun as though they had risen over the abode of some hermit -or saint. We saw nought of the customary stir and bustle of -an habited house about the mansion of Auchendrayne. None -ran to the office houses. None carried bundle nor drove -cattle about the home parks. It was a peace like that of a -Sabbath day. 'A black devil's Sabbath!' said the Dominie, -grimly. And in truth there was something not altogether -canny about thus coming to a dead and silent house, with the -sun shining hot and the broad common day all about and above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor even when we dismounted did any servant or -retainer come forth to meet or challenge us. We did not -see so much as the flutter of a banner or the gleam of a -steel cap. Only there about us was the silent courtyard, -with the heat of noon trembling athwart it, and the very -paving stones clean swept like a table before the feast is set.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I tied our horses to the iron ring of a louping-on stone -which stood at the angle of the wall by the gate, thinking -as I did so that if only these foot-worn steps could speak, -they could tell a tale worth hearkening to of strange -venturings and bloody quests.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Also I loosened my sword, and I think I saw the -Dominie lay his hand to his hip, ere Nell and I set forward -together. We went up the steps of the outside stair, and -as we did so we came within hearing of a little continuous -murmur of hoarse sound. The doors were all open, and I -wot well that we walked softly and with our hearts in our -mouths, for the silence and the strangeness of the deadly -house of Auchendrayne daunted me more than the clash -of swords or the crack of pistols. But I had Nell Kennedy -by me, and I would have gone to destruction's pit-mouth -for her sake—because, saving my father and mother, she -was the only friend I had.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly, in our advance, we came to the door of a -great hall, where, at the upper end, was a table in the midst. -The windows were narrow and high, throwing down but a -dim light upon the rush-strewn floor. There were many -servants and others sitting in the hall, and at the further end -stood one who read from a book. As soon as our eyes became -accustomed to the cool duskiness after the white equal glare -without, I perceived that the reader was none other than -John Mure himself. About him there sat all his servants -and retainers, both men and women.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the crown of my astonishment to hear that the -book from which he read was the Bible, and also that as he -went on he made comments like a minister expounding his -morning chapter, speaking very seasonably and fitly, and eke -with excellent judgment and sense. Or so at least it seemed -to me, for I am not enough of a clerk to be a judge of -expositions, though my father has the two great leather-bound -volumes of Clerk </span><em class="italics">Erasmus his Paraphrases</em><span>, on the shelf over -the mantel. But though he is fond of these himself, he never -rubbed any of his liking into me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we were hearkening to the reading of John Mure -in his own hall of Auchendrayne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"Fill ye up, then, the measures of your fathers,"' -somewhat in this fashion he read from his place. '"Ye -serpents, ye generation of vipers, how shall ye escape the -damnation of hell? Wherefore behold I send unto you -prophets and wise men and scribes; and some of them ye -shall kill and crucify, and some of them shall ye scourge in -your synagogues, and persecute them from city to city—that -upon you may come all the righteous blood shed upon the -earth, from the blood of righteous Abel unto the blood of -Zacharias, son of Barachias, whom ye slew between the -temple and the altar. Verily I say unto you, all these -things shall come upon this generation."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Having read this word, which, knowing what I knew, I -had thought would have made him sink through the earth -with the fear of condemnation, John Mure commented upon -it, showing how it applied to such as refused the right gospel -way and walked in devious courses, careless of God and man. -Then he went on with his reading in the same clear and -solemn voice, though he must perforce have seen us stand -in the hall door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So soon as the reading was over, the great company of -the retainers decently took their departure, walking out -soberly and without hurry. Then came John Mure down -from the dais with the Bible yet in his hand, and welcomed -us with a condescension that was quaint and uncanny.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye have gotten us at our devotions, Mistress Helen, -and you Master Launcelot, and Dominie Mure—my good -cousin. You could not have found us better employed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Do ye believe what ye read?' asked the Dominie, -quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whatever is a means to an end, that I believe in—even -as you believe in your taws and birch twigs. The reading -of Scripture threatenings makes quiet bairns, and so does the -birch.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What think ye of the blood of righteous Abel?' said -the Dominie—with, methought, more boldness than -discretion. 'Will it cry from the ground, think ye?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Laird of Auchendrayne looked at the little Dominie, -as one might upon a fractious but entertaining bairn.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a point much disputed. Ye had better ask our -Launcelot's friend, Maister Robert Bruce, Minister of -Edinburgh, if perchance his head be yet upon his shoulders.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which saying showed me that John Mure knew more -than I had given him the credit for.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he turned to Nell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You would wish to see the young Lady Auchendrayne?' -he said courteously.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nell replied coldly enough, 'I should like to see my -sister.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I think,' said Auchendrayne, with a wiselike and grave -sobriety that set well on his reverend person, 'that she is -presently in the orchard house.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will you bide here, or will you go with Mistress -Helen?' he asked of me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We would all go together,' said Nell, 'if it pleasure you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with a courteous wave of the hand, he led us through -stone passages and along echoing corridors, till we came to -a door in the wall, from which we entered upon a pleasant -prospect of gardens and orchards. Here again there was -the same curious silence, and, as it seemed, an absence of -the twitter and stir of a Scottish garden in the season -of summer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We came presently to a stone building like a tomb, all -overshaded with trees.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This is the orchard house of Auchendrayne,' he said. -'I believe the Lady Marjorie is within.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie and I stayed without with John Mure, -while Nell went in alone to greet her sister. We heard -the faint murmur of voices and now and then a pulsing -check as of a slow, smothered sob. We that were without, -stood with our backs to the cold, heavy, white stones under -the green shade, while John Mure discoursed learnedly and -pleasantly of flower-beds and tulips and the best form of -dovecot tower for the supply of the table with pigeon pie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last Nell came to the door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot, Marjorie wishes you to come in,' she said. -Whereupon I entered and found a large room finished in -oaken panelling and moulded archings. Roses looked in at -the windows, and a stir of pleasant coolness was all about. -Marjorie was sitting by a table with many books spread -upon it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My dear lady was pale and white as a lily. She leaned -her head wearily on her hand. But there burned a still and -unslockened fire in her eye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot,' she said to me, 'this is not so wide a place -to walk within as the pleasaunce at Culzean, nor yet -can we see from the garden house of Auchendrayne the -rough blue edges of Arran or the round Haystack of Ailsa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I bade her look forward to happy days yet to come, for, -indeed, I knew not what to say to her. She smiled upon -me wistfully and indulgently, as one does upon a prattling -child.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thank you, Launcelot,' she said, 'but I was not born -for happiness. Nevertheless, you were ever my good lad. I -see you still wear my favour, but doubtless long ere this -you have found another lady. Is it not so?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told her no, blushing to have to say so in the hearing -of Nell—who afterwards might flout me, or, as like as not, -cast up again the old matter of Kate Allison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then through one of the windows I saw John Mure -pacing up and down the path with the Dominie at the other -side of the garden, so I knew that it was our time to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye have heard of your father's death?' said I. 'What -think ye? How was it wrought and how brought about? -Can you help us to unravel it?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said Marjorie, 'not at present. But in good time -I shall yet clear the matter to the roots, and that before -I die.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wherefore will you not come back to us at Culzean? -We need you sorely,' pleaded Nell, who stood holding her -sister's hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said Marjorie, 'my work is not yet done at -Auchendrayne.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the self-same answer she had given when she rode -away from the gate of Maybole on the day of the death of -Gilbert Kennedy of Bargany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Are they cruel to you here, Marjorie, tell me that?' I -said, for I saw that the old Laird was approaching, and that -our further time would be but short.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No one of them hath laid so much as a finger upon -me!' said Marjorie. And this at least was some comfort -to carry back to the sad house of Culzean with us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with that, little satisfied concerning the thing which -we came to seek, but with somewhat more ease in our hearts -for Marjorie's sake, we went back through the passages and -into the great hall. While we waited there for a servant -to show us forth to our horses, my eye rested upon a large, -closely-written volume, with the quill pen laid upon it, and -ink-horn set in a hole in the desk above it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I see that my clerkly work has caught your eye,' said -John Mure. 'It is a nothing that I amuse myself withal, yet -it may live longer than you or I. It is but a slight history -of the mighty sept whose name you, Master Launcelot, so -worthily bear, with all their branches and noble deeds at -arms. For me, I am but a useless old man, past the labour -of fighting. Yea, I know it was your own lance that put -me there. But I bear no malice, it was the fortune of war. -You know me better than to suppose that John Mure -bears a grudge for that shrewd thrust you dealt me on the -day of the quenching of our hopes in blood by the gate -of Maybole.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I bowed and thanked him for his courteous words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was indeed the gallantest charge that ever was made,' -said I, 'since that of Norman Leslie, when, on the day before -Renti, he drava into the midst of sixty Spaniards with but -seven Scottish lances at his tail.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sir,' said I, 'I am no historian, but a soldier. Yet is it -a part of the training of a good fighter, that he should know -the great deeds which have been done in the wars before him -by brave men, so that he may emulate them when he himself -is launched upon the points.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is well said, sir squire,' said Auchendrayne, bowing -to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, with a courteous farewell, in which there was to be -seen no grain of hate nor as much as a glint of the teeth or -the wolf, he bade us go our ways. 'And, above all things, -he cried after us, 'mind your prayers. 'Tis a good lesson -for the young to remember.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="in-the-enemy-s-country"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">IN THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now, through being over-careful with my chronicle, I have -spent too much time on our conferences. But we were, -indeed, at the parting of the ways, and needed all advice. -On our way to Culzean we met one who told us that -the Earl had gone home that day to Cassillis. Nell -besought me to ride thither, for she had a request to make -to the head of her house ere she went her ways back to -Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So to Cassillis we rode, and at the gate encountered -Robert Harburgh, dressed, as usual, in his dark, close-fitting -doublet, and with his long, plain sword by his side. With -him I abode while Helen went within to pay her duty and -service to the Countess—who, as Nell told me afterwards, -never stopped praising the ancient days when she was the -Chancellor's wife, and had one of the ladies of the Court to -attire her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now,' she said bitterly, 'John grudges it if I take a -milkmaid half-an-hour from the butter-kirning to help to -arrange my hair.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the Earl came out. He showed himself well -pleased and kind, as, indeed, he ever was with me—perhaps -because I never asked aught of him in all my life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Helen, our cousin,' said he, 'desires that she may go -and bide among the heather with your good mother at -Kirrieoch. What think ye of that?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him that I had not heard of it—that she had -spoken no word to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'See to the matter,' he said with significance. 'I have been -advised concerning Sir Thomas and his last words. And if you -prove worthy, I know no reason why ye should not have the -lass. But first ye must find the treasure of Kelwood or bring -down her father's murderers—one of the two. And then, -when that is done, I pledge you my knightly word that ye -shall have both the lass and a suitable providing. Besides -which, if I am in favour with the King, ye may even get a -clap on the shoulder from the flat of a royal sword. But -that,' said he, 'I can nocht promise ye, for with King Jamie -no man's favour is siccar.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told him that I kenned not rightly if the lass would -have me; that I never spoke a single word of love to her -but what she lightlied me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In good time,' said the Earl, smiling and nodding. -'The lass that wants in time of stress to gang and bide with -the minnie, will draw not unkindly to the son in times of ease.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came Nell with a knitted shawl from the Countess -to wear among the hills, for Earl John and she were kind -folk enough in all that touched not the getting or spending -of gear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I asked my lord also for the company of Robert Harburgh -to help me in the escorting of Nell fitly to the little tower -of Kirrieoch on the side of the Minnoch water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, ay; let him gang,' said the Earl. 'The honeymoon -is by, and his wife will be the fonder of him for lying -her lane till he comes hame to her again.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Robert Harburgh and his long sword went southward -from Cassillis along with us, riding mostly with the -Dominie, while I rode behind with Nell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told her all our plans as we went. How we must seek -the treasure; and how we must, above all things, find the -boy Dalrymple.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will go with you upon your quest,' the staunch little -Dominie had said to me, when he heard of our adventure. -And so it fell out that we four rode steadily to the south, -till we came in the evening to my own hill-land, where the -whaups cry, where the burnies go chuckling to themselves -and clattering over the pebbles, and where all the folk's -hearts are kindly and warm. My mother took my lass -in her arms when we told her our purpose and Nell's -request.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And I will help you with the kye?' said Nell, blithely, -to her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay,' answered my mother. 'Ye will help with the -drinking of the milk, and that will e'en bring some roses -back into your cheeks, my puir bit shilpit lassie.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And though there passed not a look by the common -between us when we parted, I think my mother shrewdly -jaloosed what were my hopes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus we left them standing by the loan dyke, the two -old folk and Nell with her yellow hair a-blowing in the -midst. And I, that knew not whether I might ever see -them again, waved a hand, and resolved to return with a -name and a barony at the least; or, if my lot were perverse, -to leave my bones in some stricken field.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It is hard for a man to part from a lass—and in especial -from one to whom he dares not make love as he has done to -others, all because those others have told upon him, till he -fears the ridicule of his real love more than rapier thrusts. -Right bitterly did I regret that I had done my by-courtings -so near home; because, on my very life I dared not venture -a sweet word to Nell Kennedy for fear of her saying, 'That -is even what you said to Kate Allison, the Grieve's lass.' Or -as it might, 'Keep to your customs. It is not your usual -time yet by a quarter-of-an-hour to put your arm about our -waists.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now this is monstrously unfair to any man, who, after -all, is compelled to conduct his affairs with some sort of rule -and plan of attack. I was a fool—well do I know it. I -ought to have gone further afield than the Grieve's house. -I am sure there are plenty of lasses in Carrick fairer to look -upon than Kate Allison, though I am free to admit that I -thought not so at the time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So as we went back it was arranged that Robert Harburgh -should ride to the woodland country about Auchendrayne, -and there, from his headquarters at Cassillis, keep his eye -upon the doings of the Mures, because his person was -unknown to them of Auchendrayne's household.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie and I undertook the more uncertain work, -but we had made our plans and were not to be put off. The -neighbourhood of the Benane was well known to all that -trafficked about the town of Girvan. It was a dangerous -and an ill-famed place, and many innocent people had very -mysteriously lost their lives there, or at least disappeared to -return no more. In order, therefore, that we might be -more free to pursue our wanderings, we left our horses -behind us. Indeed, Dom Nicholas was even now cropping -the sweet grasses on the side of the Minnoch water, -with my father to show him where they grew thickest and -my mother to give him oats between times, till the brave -beast was in some danger of being overfed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As we neared Girvan, we came into a country of the -bitterest partizans of the Bargany folk. Here dwelt James -Bannatyne of Chapeldonnan, one of the great intimates of -John Mure, and much beholden to him. Here also was -Girvan Mains, over the possession of which much of the -black blood had arisen. So, for our safety, we gave ourselves -out to be plain merchants travelling to Stranrawer in order -to get a passage over to Ireland.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When we came to the farmhouses where we were to -stay for the night, we always asked of the good man, in the -hearing of his wife, concerning the state of the country. -Was it peaceful? Were the bloody feuds staunched, and -could honest men now live in peace? We heard, as was -natural, a great deal of abuse of the Earl and of our faction, -as the greediest and worst-intentioned rascals in the world. -That from the goodman; but when the wife got her tongue -started, she would tell us much that was no credit to -Drummurchie and others on the side of the murderers. Soon we -were fully certified that we were already in the country -where Drummurchie and Cloncaird and the rest of their -party were being secretly sustained by their friends. Yet -we could not come at them, which perhaps was as well, -seeing that my person was well known to them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I found the little Dominie a right brave companion. -When we sojourned at houses, he had a way with the bairns -that kept them on the trot to do his will, and pleasured to -do it—a manner also of cross-questioning the parents about -their children which showed them his interest and his -knowledge. Then he would most wisely and soberly advise -them to see and give this lad Alec a good education, to -make that one a merchant because of his cleverness with -figures, and this a dominie or a clerk, because he did not -give promise of being fit for anything else. It was as good -as a play to hear him, and made us much thought of -whereever we went.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet he was ready with his fighting tools also. Once when -we went by Kildonan and a pack of dirty vagabonds bade us -stand, what was my surprise to find that Dominie Mure having -laid down his pipes and out with his blade, was already driving -among them before I had got so much as my hand on the -sword blade. And I am no laggard, either, with the iron, as -all may know by this time. But with his great bristling -fierce head and his rapier that thrust up unexpectedly from -below (yet which with the length of his arm reached as far -as a tall man's), the Dominie gave the rascals a fright and a -wound or two also, which started them at the run. Even -then he followed, thrusting at them behind till they shouted -amain, and took across the fields to escape the pricking of -his merciless weapon. And ever as they ran he cried, '"Halt -and deliver!" did ye say? I will give you a bellyful of -"Halt and deliver!"'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-ogre-s-castle"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE OGRE'S CASTLE</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So being wearied with the chase we went to the nearest -farm, which, as it happened, was that of Chapeldonnan. It -stood quite close by the roadside. A tall, large-boned -woman came to the gate with a pail of pigs' meat in her -hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What seek ye?' she said. 'We want nae travelling -folk about Chapeldonnan.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We told her that we were merchants going to Ireland, -and that we had been attacked by a set of rascals upon the -way, whom we had made flee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They are no that ill in this pairt o' the country. They -wad only hae killed ye,' she said, as if that would have been -a satisfaction to us. 'It is doon aboot the Benane that the -real ill folk bide.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told her that killing was enough for me, and that -I was puzzled to know what worse she could mean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with some seeming reluctance she bade us come in. -The wide quadrangle of the farm buildings was defended -like a fortress. The gate was spiked and barred with iron -from post to post, as though it had been the gate of a fighting -baron instead of the yett of a tenant, devised only to -keep in the kye.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We asked civilly for the master of the house, and -somewhat hastily the woman answered us,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The guidman's no at hame. He has been away ower -by at the Craig trying to win the harvest of the solan geese -and sea-parrots.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your husband is tenant of the rock?' I said, for it is -always worth while finding out what a man like James -Bannatyne may be doing, or at least how much he thinks -it advisable to tell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ow ay,'she said, 'and a bonny holding it is. Gin it -werena for the Ailsa cocks, the conies, and the doos, it wad -be a mill-stone aboot our necks, for we have to pay sweetly -for the rent o' it to my Lady of Bargany.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But,' said I, 'it belongs to the Earl, does it not?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The mistress of Chapeldonnan looked pityingly at us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye are twa well-put-on men to be so ignorant. Ye -maun hae been lang awa' frae this pairt o' the country no -to ken that the neighbourhood is very unhealthy for the -friends o' the Earl o' Cassillis to come here. Faith, the last -that cam' speerin' for rent and mails in this quarter gat six -inch o' cauld steel in the wame o' him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what,' said the Dominie, 'became o' him after -that? Did he manage to recover?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Na, na. He was buried in Colmonel kirkyaird. The -good man of Boghead gied him a resting-grave and a -headstone. It was thought to be very kind o' him. It was -Boghead himsel' that stickit him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye see what it is to be a Christian, good wife!' said -the Dominie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ow ay, lad,' said the woman, placidly. 'That was -generally remarked on at the time. Ye see, Boghead was -aye a forgiein' man a' his days. But for a' that, it was the -general opinion o' the pairish that the thing might be -carried ower far, when it cam' to setting up my Lord of -Cassillis's folks wi' graves and headstones!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She continued, after a pause,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hae been deevin' at our guidman to gie up the Craig, -for it keeps him a deal from hame, and I aye tell him that -he carries awa' mair than he brings back o' drink and victual. -But he says that the rock is a maist extraordinary -hungrysome place!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It has that name,' said I, unwarily.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She stopped and looked at me with sudden suspicion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What ken ye aboot the Ailsa?' she asked, looking -directly at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nocht ava,' I replied, 'but a' seaside places hae the -name o' making your ready for you meal of meat.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hoot, no,' said Mistress Bannatyne. 'Now, there's -mysel'. I canna do mair than tak' a pickin' o' meat, like a -sparrow on the lip o' the swinepot. Yet Chapeldonnan is -but a step frae the sea.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She was at that moment lifting a heavy iron pot off the -cleps, or iron hooks by which it hung over the fireplace -in the midst of the kitchen floor.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I hae aye been delicate a' my days, and it is an awesome -thing for a woman like me to be tied to a big eater like -James, that never kens when he has his fill—like a corbie -howkin' at a braxy sheep till there was naething left but the -horns and the tail.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I thought we might get some information about the -Benane, which might prove of some use to us when we -adventured thither.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good wife,' said I, 'we are thinking of going by -Ballantrae to the town of Stranrawer. The direct way, I -hear, is by the Benane. What think ye—is the road a -good one?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye are a sonsy lad,' she said, 'ye wad mak' braw -pickin' for the teeth o' Sawny Bean's bairns. They wad -roast your ribs fresh and fresh till they were done. Syne -they would pickle your quarters for the winter. The -like o' you wad be as guid as a Christmas mart to them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hoot, good wife,' said I, 'ye ken that a' this talk aboot -Sawny Bean's folk is juist blethers—made to fright bairns -frae gallivanting at night.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye'll maybe get news o' that gin Sawny puts his knife -intil your throat. Ye hae heard o' my man. James -Bannatyne is not a man easily feared, but not for the -Earldom o' Cassillis wad he gang that shore road to -Ballantrae his lane.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, indeed, there were in the countryside enough tales -of wayfarers who had disappeared there, of pools of blood -frozen in the morning, of traveller's footsteps that went so -far and then were lost in a smother of tracks made by -naked feet running every way. But I kept on with my -questions. I wanted to hear the bruit of the country, and -what were our chances.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>While we were thus cheerfully talking, and the Dominie -by whiles playing a spring upon his pipes to gain the lady's -goodwill, there came in a man of a black and gruesome -countenance. We knew him at once for the master of -Chapeldonnan, James Bannatyne, for he came in as only -a goodman comes into his own house. He was a man -renowned for his great strength all over Carrick. He turned -on us a lowering regard as he went clumsily by into an -inner room, carrying an armful of nets. I noted that the -twine had not been wet, so that his sea fishing had not -come to much. But behind the door he flung down a back-load -of birds—mostly solan geese and the fowl called 'the -Foolish Cock of the Rock,' together with half-a-dozen -'Tammy Nories.' So I guessed that he had either been -over the water to Ailsa, or desired to have it thought so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His wife went ben the room to him. We could hear -the sulky giant's growling questions as to who we were, -and his wife's brisk replies. Presently she came out looking -a little dashed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'James has come in raither tired,' she said, 'and he will -need to lie down and hae a sleep.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In that case, mistress,' I said, 'we will e'en thank you -for your kindly hospitality and take our ways.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She followed us to the door, and I think she was -wonderfully glad to get us safe away without bloodshed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Be sure that ye gang na south by the Benane,' she -said, 'the folk that bide there are no canny.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we thanked her again and took our way, breathing -more freely also to have left the giant behind.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We had not gone far, however, when we spied her -husband hastening after us across a field. He came up -with us by a turn in the road.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We harbour no spies at Chapeldonnan,' he said, bending -sullenest brows at us, 'and that I would have you -know.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We are no spies on you nor on any well-doing man,' I -said. 'We are honest merchants on our way to -Stranrawer, and but called in to ask the way.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye speered ower mony questions of my wife to be -honest men,' he said threateningly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And why,' said the Dominie, birsing up as one that -is ready to quarrel, 'in this realm of Scotland may not a -man without offence ask his way, from the honest wife -of an honest man, so long as he soliciteth no favour more -intimate?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this the giant made a blow at the little Dominie. -He had a large cudgel in his hand, and he struck without -warning, like the ill-conditioned ruffian that he was. But -he fell in with the wrong man when he tried to take -Dominie Mure unawares, for the little man was as -gleg as a hawk, having been accustomed to watch the -eyes of boys all his life, ay, and often those of lads bigger -than himself. So that, long before the hulking stroke of -the fellow came near him, the Dominie had sprung to -the side, and was ready, with his whinger in his hand, to -spit Bannatyne upon the point. For myself I did not -even think it worth my while even to draw—for I had -only brought my plain sword, fearing that in some of the -company which on our wanderings we might have to -keep, the Earl's Damascus blade might overmuch excite -cupidity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But instead I ordered the fellow away as one that has -authority. It was not for Launcelot Kennedy to mix -himself with a common brawling dog like Chapeldonnan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It wants but the tickling of a straw,' cried the little man, -'that I should spit you through, like a paddock to bait a -line for geds. And but for your wife's sake, who is a civil-spoken -woman by ill-fortune tied to a ruffian, I should do it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then seeing that together we were overstrong for him, -James Bannatyne took himself away, growling curses and -threatenings as to what should happen to us before we got -clear of Carrick. However, we took little heed to the empty -boaster, but went our ways down into the town of Girvan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here it came to my mind to hire a boat and provision -her as it were to go to the island of Arran. And nothing -would set me till I had it done. So on the south beach -we found a man cleaning just such a boat as we needed, -with a half-deck on her and a little mast which would go -either up or down. For three merks in silver we got the -use of the boat for a month, and with her both suitable -oars and sails. He was going to the haying in the parish -of Colmonel, the owner said, but lest we should lose her, -we must deposit with the minister or the provost of the -town other thirty merks as the value of the boat, which -money should again be ours when we returned to claim it. -So to the provost we went, whom we found a hearty, red-faced -man, a dealer in provisions and all manner of victual. -Of these we took a sufficient cargo on board, and having -paid down our thirty merks, early one morning we laid our -course for the Isle of Arran.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when we had gone screeving well across with a -following wind, we lay to under Pladda till it was dusk, -and then with a breeze shifted to our quarter we bore down -on Ailsa. I knew not very well what we should find there, -but I judged that we would at least come on some traces -of the murderous crew, which might help us to clear up -some of their secrets. For I judged that James Bannatyne -did not spend his nights out of bed in order to wile a few -solan geese off the rocks of Ailsa.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-defence-of-castle-ailsa"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE DEFENCE OF CASTLE AILSA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now the Isle of Ailsa is little more than a great lumping -crag set askew in the sea. Nevertheless, it has both landing -place and pasturage, house of refuge and place of defence. -The island was not new to me, for I had once upon a time -gone thither out of curiosity after the matter of Barclay, -Laird of Ladyland—who, in his madness, thought to make -it a place of arms for the Papists in the year of the Spanish -Armada, but was prevented and slain at the instance of -Andrew Knox, one of the good reforming name, minister -of Paisley. This last was a wonderfully clever man and -accounted a moving preacher; but on this occasion he -showed himself a better fighter—which upon Craig Ailsa, -at least, is more to the purpose.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the dusk of the morning when we ran into -the spit of shingle which is upon the eastern side and, -watching our chance, we drew the boat ashore. The sea -was chill and calm, only a little ruffled by the night wind, -and the sun was already brightening the sky to the east, so -that the Byne Hill and Brown Carrick stood black against it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With great stealth and quiet we climbed up the narrow -path, seeing nothing, however, save a pasturing goat that -sprang away as we came near. It was eerie enough work, -for the seabirds clanged around us, yammering and chunnering -querulously among themselves on the main cliffs at the -farther side of the isle. It grew a little lighter when we -came out upon the narrow path which leads to the castle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly the dark door of the tower loomed before us, -very black and grim. I declare it was like marching up -to the cannon's mouth to walk up that little flight of stairs -which led to the door in the wall. Nevertheless, I clambered -first, with a curious pricking down my back and a slackness -about the knees. So all unscathed we entered. There -was only emptiness in all the chambers. The castle had been -almost wholly ruined and spoiled, for since its taking by -the Protestant party, it had not been touched nor put in -defence. 'Now I will bring up the provender. Keep you -the castle,' said I to the little Dominie, as soon as we were -certified that we were first in possession.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I went down and made first one backload and then -another of those things which we had bought at Girvan and -placed in the boat. I brought up also all the ammunition for -the hackbutt and the pistols. Before I had finished the sky -grew grey and clear, the day breaking nobly with only a rack -of cloud racing up the far side of Kilbrannan Sound to hang -upon the chill shark's teeth of the mountains of Arran. -Upon my return I was glad to find the castle intact, and -the little man seated calmly with a book in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did you never so much as shut the outer door?' I -asked him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And shut you without,' said he. 'Is it likely? Ye -might have had to come along that footpad with only your -limber legs to keep your tail, and Tam o' Drummurchie -or Sawny Bean jumping ahint ye!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So before we went to examine the nooks and crannies -of the Craig either for enemies or treasure boxes, we -resolved to put the castle into as good a state of defence as we -could.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>First we drew in the rough wooden steps which led to -the door in the wall by which we had entered, so that only -the little projections whereon the wood had rested were left -to afford foothold to any besieger. Then we closed and -barricaded the door, for the huge iron bolt was yet in its -place and ran securely into the stone of the wall itself for -quite two feet.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the day broke fully, I went up to the turret top -to look about me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Save us!' I cried down to the little man. 'Come -hither, Dominie. Is not that our boat out there with men -in her?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie ran up and looked long and earnestly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, deed is it that,' he made answer. 'We are -trapped, Launcelot, for all our cleverness. And if these -chiels be our enemies, I doubt that we are as good as dead -men in the jaws of the Wolf of Drummurchie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The men in the boat kept leaning back and looking -up at the cliffs as if to get sight of something. Sometimes -they went completely out of view, as it had been close into -the bulk of the isle, mayhap to examine more carefully some -cave or lurking-place.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We had better look well to our priming, and set a -watch,' said I. 'We shall have visitors this day at Castle -Ailsa, or my name is not Launcelot Kennedy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the hours passed slowly on from nine till noon -before we heard a sound, or saw a living creature beside the -geese and the gulls. After the boat had gone westward out -of sight, we waxed weary at our posts on the top of the -turret. I went down to look at the cupboards of the -chambers. There I was rooting and exploring, when I -heard the Dominie whispering loudly to me to run up hastily -into the tower.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He told me how that a stone had come pelting against -the wall, on the side towards the hill. Now the castle sits -on the verge of the precipice, and only a narrow path leads -to it along the cliff. But behind there is a little courtyard -to landward, now mostly ruined and broken down. It was -from this side, so Dominie Mure whispered to me, that the -stone had come.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tut, man,' said I, 'you are losing your nerve with -this playing of hide-and-seek. It was but a billy-goat's foot -that spurned it, and so naturally it came bumming down -the hill side.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then,' he replied grimly, 'it was a billy-goat as big as an -elephant, and it will ding over this castle into the sea, for -no ordinary goat could have stirred the stone I saw; I -tell you it popped over the heuch like a cannon-ball.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we were soon to have other company besides that -of the stone.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For presently there came in sight a man walking daintily -and carefully along the path which led to the door of the -tower. Now he would pull wantonly at a flower, and anon -he would skip a stone over the cliff—for all the world as if -it were a Sabbath afternoon, and he was waiting for his lass. -But I knew better, for I heard his harness clattering under his -loose coat of blue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where gang ye so blythe, my bonny man?' cried the -Dominie suddenly from my elbow. The man started back, -and set his hand beneath his cloak, but the Dominie cried,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Keep awa' your hand frae your hip, young man—ye -may need it to preserve your balance on the footpath—and -give me your attention for a wee.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man did as he was bid, and cast his eye aloft, where -the black mouth of a hackbutt looked discouragingly down -upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your name, friend?' said the Dominie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am James Carrick from the parish of Barr,' said the -man at last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, ay, slee Jamie—Drummurchie's man,' said the -Dominie, with meaning. 'When the man is pooin' gowans -and skytin' slate stanes, the maister is no that far awa'. Noo, -James, e'en turn you aboot and gang your ways, and tell -your maister that his black murder is found out, and that -there are those on their way to this isle that will put the -irons on his heels.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the man who had called himself James Carrick turned -obediently about, and marched away the road he had come. -Probably he had been sent for nothing more than to know -if we had stolen a march upon them, and taken possession -of the strength of the castle. They had our boat—there -was no question of that. We were, therefore, set here with -only two backloads of powder and provisions to stand a siege -in a small and ruinous tower upon a barren cliff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor was it long before we had news of the enemy, for -as we strolled up and down the battlement walk, which as is -common in such little fortalices, went round three sides of the -tower—that is, round every side except that which looks -inward to the cliff-edge—a number of scattering shots came -from all about, but chiefly from above.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We could hear them whistling over us as we ducked -our heads. We got ready our guns to fire in return so soon -as a man showed; but the many bowders and rocky humps -about gave the enemy great shelter, so that it was no easy -thing to take aim at them. However, I did get a steady -shot at an incautious leg, and on the back of the crack of -the hackbutt came a great torrent of swearing, and this I -took for a good sign.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All we could do was to keep the little courtyard clear, -and to shoot whenever we saw a bonnet rise up or a limb -carelessly exposed. But we both yearned for something -more lively to put an end to our suspense.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor had we long to wait.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>From the east side of the tower which looks to the sea, -there came the sound of a loud report, a tumble of stones, -and then a loud, continual, and most pitiful crying, as of a man -hurt unto death. I ran up into the battlements above and -set my head through a loophole. Beneath me lay a fine-looking -young man, with his red bonnet fallen aside, clad in -a short white coat, with doublet and hose also of red. He -was unarmed so far as I could see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who are you, and what brought you there?' I cried to -him from the turret loop.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A massy corner-stone fallen from the castle lay on his -chest, and a pile of other rocks and stones was heaped about -his legs. He turned his eyes upward at me and tried twice -to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last he said, with many pants and piteous groans, 'I -am Allan Crosby, from Auchneil. I brought you a letter -from my Lord Cassillis. I landed below and came up by -the path, but when I got near I heard firing and saw the door -shut. So I tried to clamber up the castle wall to cry in at the -window to you, because you were my friends. And even as -I climbed, the stones of the castle fell upon me, and now they -are crushing the life out of me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where is the letter from my Lord?' said I.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man cast his eyes about him as if to look for it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I had it in my hand just now,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw a scrap of parchment a little way from him, and -asked if that were the letter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tie it to a cord for me,' said I, 'that I may -see it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But, by reason of his wounds, he was not able to reach -it, and the stones pressed so bitterly on his breast that he -could do nothing but lie and groan most waesomely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, help me, or else end my misery—for the love of -God,' he cried earnestly, 'for I am at the point of death in -this agony.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I went all round the top of the tower and looked about -every way. Our enemies had retired further up the cliff, -and were contenting themselves with firing an occasional -shot, which fell harmless against the walls, buzzed among -the battlements, or else sang past us into the sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I called the Dominie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come to the door,' said I. 'I cannot bide still and see -that poor man suffer. He says that he has come with a -letter from my Lord Cassillis. It may be so. I will at -least go and see. Drummurchie's thieves have gone up the -face of the rock, and the wounded man cannot hurt me -much, even if he were willing.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Dominie pled with me to bide where I was 'because,' -said he, 'you know not whether it be not an ambush.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I cannot let a fellow-creature be crushed to pieces -before my eyes and abide to hear his death-cries,' I answered. -'Come down and hold you the door open.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with that I undid the bolts and put the Dominie -behind it. I set my feet upon the jutting stones on which -the wooden stair usually rested, and so scrambled perilously -down, holding on to the wall with my right hand the while. -When I came to him the lad was lying gasping on his back -with the stones edgewise on his breast. I asked him how -he did. He seemed past speech, but was able to motion me -round to the further side. There I stooped gently in order -to raise the great block that lay upon his bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stepped carefully about and turned my body to render -him my aid as tenderly as I could. But I got a sudden and -terrible surprise, and though I am not one much given to -fear, I own that it shook my heart. Even as I stooped over -him, the fellow flung oft the stones as if they had been -featherweights, leaped upon his own feet with a bended -pistol in his hand, and stood in front of me, striding across -the path which led back again to the castle door.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the same moment I heard a loud shout of warning -from the Dominie, that the enemy were again coming -down the brae. I had no time to draw my dagger, and -for greater lightness I had left my sword behind. I saw -the rascal make him ready to fire at me, aiming at my -heart. So I remembered a French trick of high kicking -which Robert Harburgh had once taught me, for he had -been in France at the schools with his master the Earl, -and had learned much there besides philosophy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I gave the fellow my foot, shod with toe-plates, full -upon his wrist, which knocked the pistol up against his -chin with a stunning crash. In the next moment I leaped -at his throat and overbore him, spurning him with my heel -as I passed. I can remember leaping upon him with all -my weight from the top of one of the very stones the -traitor had pulled down upon himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I ran fleet-foot for the entrance of the castle. -Others of the enemy were just coming about the corner -when I reached the projecting points of stone. With my -heart in my mouth I sprang up the little juts of rock. I -was almost within and in safety, but I had not counted -upon the swiftness and resource of my gentleman of the -fallen stone. He was hard upon my heels in spite of the -thundering clout he had gotten on the jaw from the pistol. -But luckily my brave little friend the Dominie stood ready -behind the door, and as soon as my hindmost foot was over -the threshold, he set his strength to the iron handle and sent -the massy oak home to its fastenings with such force that -it struck the pursuer fair on the face with a stunning crash. -As a stone is driven from a sling, so he fell whirling over -the stair head, and, unable to stop himself, he went, gripping -vainly at the rock-weeds, headlong over the cliff.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This, however, being behind the door and fully employed -in securing it, we did not know at the time. But when we -hurried again to the top of the tower, we saw the enemy -swarming down the cliff side to render him some assistance, -or it might be to recover his body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ask him, when you get him, if he has another letter -from my lord the Earl,' cried the Dominie after them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And serve him right well, the treacherous hound,' -muttered the little man to himself, 'if you find him in -pound pieces!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I said nothing, for I thought the fellow would mind -the kick that I gave him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That night Thomas of Drummurchie and all his folk -removed from the cave where till now they had dwelt. -They went over in our boat and in that of James Bannatyne -of Chapeldonnan to the mainland, being frightened (as I -guess) by our declaration that there were those coming who -would deliver them to justice. And also being dismayed, as -I make no doubt, by our staunch and desperate defence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus were we left alone on the muckle weary rock -which men call Ailsa, and which thousands of free men and -women look at every day without a thought of the poor -prisoned folk upon it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-voice-out-of-the-night"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE VOICE OUT OF THE NIGHT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Now, so long as provisions last, Ailsa is none such a bad -sanctuary, and we might have passed the time there very -well, had we possessed minds sufficiently at ease for enjoying -such a hermitage. The spring was but a few yards above -the castle, and it ran crystal clear into a little basin which -I cut in the rock. We had enough victual to serve us -for a month with the provision we had bought in Girvan, -and with what I shot of the puffins or Tammy Nories, -which ran in and out of their holes all day like conies in -a warren.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Sometimes we would climb to the top of the crag and -look long at the sea, which from there seemed like a great -sheet hung upon Cantyre and Arran on the one side and -upon the hills of Galloway and Carrick on the other—with -Ailsa itself, on which we were sitting, in the deepest -trough of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>A few boats crept timidly about the shore, and a little -ship sometimes passed by. But otherwise we had for -companions only the silly guillemots that couped their tails -uppermost and dived under, the fishing-gulls that dropped -splash into the water, and the solan or solemne geese which, -when they fell, made a bigger plunge than any, even as on the -cliffs of the island their keckling and crying are the loudest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>One day the Dominie and I were sitting on the roof of -all things (as the summit of Ailsa seemed to be), picking at -the grasses and knuckling little stones for the idlesse which -comes with summer weather, when it came in my head to -rally Robert Mure, because he had a cold hearthstone and a -half empty bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You, a burgess and a learned man, with an official rent -and a yearly charge on the burgh, yet cannot get so much as -a cotter's sonsy bit lass to keep you company, and to sit, -canty like Jenny and Jock, on the far side of the chimbley -lug. Think shame of yourself, Dominie. Any questing -lout that can persuade a tow-headed Mall of the byre to set -up house with him, deserves better of his country than you. -Were all of your mind, Maybole school might have none to -attend it but dotards and grandmothers! And where were -your craft then, Socrates?' I asked him, for just before he had -been speaking to me of a certain wise man, a Greek of that -name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And at first he made a jest of the matter, as indeed I -meant it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Never fear,' he said, 'there will always be enough fools -in Ayrshire to get more. Maybole shall have its share of -these.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed that hath been the repute of our town and -countryside ever since Ayr water first ran over its pebbles!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet when I pressed the Dominie further upon the matter, -he waxed thoughtful. His face, which was not naturally -merry, took on a still sterner expression. Presently he put -his hand within his blouse and pulled out a little string of -beads, such as Catholics wear to mind them of their prayers. -It was suspended about his neck. This, I own, was a great -marvel to me, for the Dominie was a strong Reformer, and -showed little mercy in arguing with men still inclined to the -ancient opinion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He gave the brown rosary into my hand, and I turned -it curiously about. It was made of the stones of some -foreign fruit, most quaintly and fantastically carven and -joined together with little links of gold. Between two of -the beads there was a longer portion of the chain, and upon -it two rings of gold were strung.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Once,' said the Dominie, 'there was a maid who had -promised to share my hearth. One ring of these two was -mine, to wear upon my finger, and one was hers. Upon -the night before our marriage day we met at our place of -tryst. I tried the ring upon her finger ard wished her to -wear it that night. 'To-morrow will serve—it is not so -far away!' she said, and slipped from my arms. Under a -new-risen moon she went homeward, singing by the heads -of Benane. And that was the last that these eyes ever -beheld of bonny Mary Torrance—save only this necklace of -beads which she wore, and the stain of her blood upon the -short grass of the seashore.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie looked long to seaward at the flashing -birds that circled and clanged about our rocky isle, each -tribe of them following its own orbit and keeping to its -own airy sphere.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what happened to her?' I began, but got no further.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Murder, most foul,' he cried, rising to his feet in his -agitation, 'horrible, unheard of in any kingdom! For all -about the spot where these things were found, was the -trampling of many naked feet. And some of these were -small and some were great. But all were naked, and the -print of every foot was plain upon the sand of the shore. -Each footprint had the toes of the bare feet wide and -distinct. Every toe was pointed with a claw, as though -the steads were those of birds. And the fearsome -beast-prints went down to the sea edge, and the blood marks -followed them. And that was all.' Then the Dominie -fell silent, and I also, for though Ayrshire was full of blood -feuds and the quest of human life, this was a new kind of -murder to me—though by all accounts it seemed not rare -in the neighbourhood of Benane, for I minded the warning -words of the Mistress of Chapeldonnan.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And had she no enemies, this Mary Torrance?' I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She was but young, and of birth too lowly for feuds -and fightings. Besides, who in Carrick would harm a maid -going homeward from her love-tryst?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie rose and walked away to the other side of -the Rock of Ailsa, where for long he sat by himself and -fingered the necklace of beads. His face was fixed, as if he -were making of the rosary a very catena of hate, a -receptacle of dark imaginings and vengeful vows. Scarcely -could I recognise my quaint and friendly Dominie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was that night, as the blackness grew grey towards -the morn, that I yielded my watch upon the roof of the -little Castle of Ailsa to the Dominie. Too long I had -paced the battlements, listening to the confused and belated -yawping and crying of the sea-birds upon the ledges, and -to the mysterious night sounds of the isle. For I began to -hear and to see all manner of uncouth things, that have no -existence except on the borderlands of sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie said no word, good or bad, but drew his -cloak about him and sat down on the rampart. I bade him -good morning, but he never answered me a word; and so -I left him, for I judged that his thought was bitter, and -that the tale he had told me of Mary Torrance lay blackly -upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, when I went below, it was not with me as on -other mornings. I lay down upon the plaids and composed -me to sleep. Yet I remained broad awake, which was an -unaccountable thing for me, who have been all my life a -great sleeper. I lay and thought of my friend, sitting -gloomy and silent above in the greyness of morn, till my -own meditations grew eerie and comfortless. Often and -often I started upon my elbow with the intention of going -to him. As often I lay down again, because I had no -excuse, and also (as it seemed to me) he had not desired -my company.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But once, as I lifted me up on my elbow, I seemed to -hear a shrill crying as it had been out of the sea, -'Launcelot—Launcelot Kennedy!' it said. And the crying was most -like a woman's voice. My very blood chilled within me, for -the tale of the lass murdered upon the morn of her marriage -day was yet in my mind. And I thought of naught less -than that her uneasy spirit was now come to visit the man, -aged and withered, who sat up there waiting and watching -for her coming. Yet why it should cry my name passed -my comprehension.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was, therefore, small wonder that I listened long, -lying there among the plaids upon the floor. But the -night wind soughed and sobbed through the narrow wicket -window, and there was no further noise. Thinking that I -had dreamed, I laid my head upon the hard pillow and -composed me to sleep, but even then I caught as it had been the -regular beat of a boat's oars upon the rullocks. And anon -I heard my name cried twice and thrice, 'Launcelot -Kennedy! Launcelot Kennedy! Launcelot Kennedy!' Whereat, -with a thrill of horror, I rose, cast the wrappings -from me, and, with my naked sword in my hand, I went -up to the roof of the castle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie was sitting with his face turned seaward. -He heard me come behind him. Without turning he put -out his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Did you hear it too?' he said. 'Go below. That -which shall come is not for your eyes to see!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I heard a woman call my name!' I said. 'I heard -it twice and thrice, plain as I hear you speak!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' he said, 'not your name—mine!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And once more we listened together. As for me, I -strained my eyes into the darkness so that they ached and -were ready to behold anything. I gazed out directly -towards the sea, from which the sounds had come; but -the Dominie looked along the path which led precariously -between the wall of the isle above and the precipice below.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus we watched as it seemed for hours and hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly I heard him draw in his breath with a gasping -sound, like that which a man gives when he finds himself -unexpectedly in ice-cold water. The twilight of the morning -had come a little, and as I looked over his shoulder, -lo! there seemed to me as it had been a maid in white coming -along the path. I felt my heart stop beating, and I, too, -gazed rigidly, for it seemed to me to be Nell Kennedy, -coming towards us, robed like an angel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She is dead!' I thought. 'Mayhap the clawed things -out of the sea have devoured her, even as they took Mary -Torrance!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I heard the Dominie say under his breath, 'It is she! -It is she!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For in the moment of terror, when the soul is unmanned, -everyone hears with his own ears and sees with his own eyes, -according to his own heart's fantasy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the figure came ever closer to us, stepping daintily -and surely in the dim light. Again I heard the voice which -had spoken to me from the sea, and at the sound my very -bones quaked within me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot—Launcelot Kennedy!' it said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And for a long moment the figure stood still as if waiting -for an answer. But my voice was shut dumbly within me. -The Dominie stood up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Art thou the spirit of Mary Torrance, or a deceiving -fiend of hell that has taken her shape? Answer me, or I -fire!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the Dominie held out his pistol to the white-sheeted -ghost, which even then appeared to me a mightily vain -thing, for how can a spirit fear these things which are only -deadly to flesh and bone?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have come to see Launcelot Kennedy,' answered the -voice, and it appeared awful and terrible to me beyond the -power of words. I could not so much as fix my mind on a -prayer, though I knew several well enough. 'I have come -to seek Launce Kennedy. Is he within?' said the voice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What would you with him? He is no concern of -yours,' said the Dominie.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I ken that,' said the voice. 'Nevertheless, I have come -to seek him. I greet you well, Dominie Mure. Will you -open and let Helen Kennedy within?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that the light came clearer. The veil of the -fantasies of that fearful night fell like a loosened bandage from -my eyes. And lo! there at the tower's foot was my dear -quipsome lass, Nell Kennedy, in her own proper body, and I -knew her for good, sound flesh and blood. Nor could I -now tell how I had so deceived myself. But one thing I -resolved—that I should not reveal my terror to her, for -very certainly she would laugh at me!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Dominie was too firmly fixed in his thought. -I saw him grip his pistol and lean over the parapet. It -seemed that he could not even believe the seeing of his -eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Come not nearer,' he cried in a wild voice, 'for well do -I know that you are a fiend of the breed of the sea demons, -whatsoever you may pretend. I will try a bullet of holy -silver upon you.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I threw myself upon him and held his arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is but our own Nell Kennedy,' I said. 'What -frights you, Dominie?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For I resolved to make a virtue of my courage. And, -indeed, as I came to myself first, and had done no open -foolishness, I thought I might as well take all the credit -which was due to me. 'See you not that it is only Helen -Kennedy of Culzean?' I repeated, reasoning with him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what seeks she with you?' said he, still struggling -in my grasp. 'I tell you it is a prodigy, and bodes us no -good,' he persisted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That I cannot tell,' said I. 'I had thought her safe -upon the moors with my mother. But I will go down and -open the door to her.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when I had run down the stairs of the small keep and -set the bolt wide, lo, there upon the step was Nell Kennedy, -her face dimpled with smiles, albeit somewhat pale also with -the morning light and the strangeness of her adventure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I held out my hand to her. Never had I been so moved -with any meeting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nell!' I said, and could say no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, Launce—just Nell!' she said. And she came in -without taking my hand. But for all that she was not -abashed nor shame-faced. But she remained as direct and -simple in her demeanour as she had been about Culzean, in -the old days before sorrow fell upon the house, and, indeed, -upon us all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Take me up the stairs to the Dominie,' she said. And I -took her hand and kept it tightly as we went upwards. -But I tried after no greater favours at that time, for I knew -that her mood leaned not towards the desires of a lover.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, Dominie,' said Nell, when she reached the top, -'this Ailsa is a strange place to keep school in. Yet I -warrant you that geese are not more numerous here than -they were in Maybole!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Dominie could only gaze at her, thus daffing -with him, so fixed had he been in his fantasy. Then when -he was somewhat come to himself, we waited expectantly for -Nell to reveal her errand and to relate her adventure, and -she did not keep us long waiting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You must instantly leave Ailsa and come back with -me,' she said. 'My sister Marjorie is lost from Auchendrayne, -and we three must find her. I fear that the Mures -have done her a mischief, being afraid of the things that she -might reveal.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How knew you of that, Nelly?' I asked, for, indeed, -it was a thing I could make no guess at myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was one morning at Kirrieoch,' said Nell, 'as we -were bringing in the kye out of the green pastures by the -waterside, that a messenger rode up with a letter from -Marjorie. She asked me to meet her at Culzean and to -bring you and any other faithful men whom I could trust -along with me. And thus the letter ended: '"</span><em class="italics">For gin I once -win clear out of Auchendrayne, we have them all in the hollow -of our hand, I have found him that carried the letter</em><span>."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'She means the letter to John Mure that took your -father to the tryst of death,' I said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie seemed to awake at the words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That will be young William Dalrymple she has fallen -on with,' he cried, in much excitement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I rose, and hastened down to put our belongings together, -which were scattered about the castle. As soon as I returned -Nell went on with her tale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then because I knew not where you were,' she said, 'I -was in much distress. But your father donned his war graith -and rode with me to the house of Culzean, where he yet -abides. As for me, I could noways rest, so I set myself -to trace you. And here I have found you. Pray God -we may find our Marjorie as safely!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But how did you manage to trace us?' I asked, for -the Dominie and I thought that we had well hidden our -tracks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, I got the kindly side of the goodwife of Chapeldonnan,' -said Nell, lightly. And when I heard that, I did -not wonder any more, for she could get the kindly side of -anyone, if so she chose. Because Nell Kennedy, in spite of -her taunting and teasing, had ever a coaxing, winsome way -with her which was vastly taking.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then we fell to making our plans. It would not do -for us to be seen leaving the Craig by day, for our position -was plainly in view of keen eyes along all the Girvan -shore and at Chapeldonnan or Girvanmains as well. And -worse enemies than these might put out a dozen boats to intercept -us, or simply lie in wait to take us as we landed. Besides, -all this day and part of the night there befel a storm which -lashed the waves to white foam about our abode.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With more than a woman's ordinary forethought in -adventure, Nell had left her boat in a cove to the right of -the landing-place. And indeed I, that somewhat prided -myself upon my wisdom, had not taken as great precautions -myself—which, among other things, was the cause of our -present position on the Craig. So we three spent all the -day in cheerful talk, thinking that so soon as we could find -Marjorie, we should come to the end of our perplexities, -and have the guilty in our power. But in this we spoke -without knowledge of the manifold shifts and stratagems of -our arch enemy.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="a-rescue-from-the-sea"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXVIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">A RESCUE FROM THE SEA</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>While we thus waited and planned, Nell told us how that -she had remained at Culzean till there seemed no more hope -of Marjorie's coming. Then there arrived a lass of the -Cochranes who had been Marjorie's tiring maid at -Auchendrayne. From her Nell learned how, after a fierce and -bitter scene with the elder Mure, Marjorie had fled from -Auchendrayne none knew whither, escaping all their toils -and passing their inner and outer guard under silence of -night. Then so soon as she had heard this, fearing all evil -to her sister, Nell set out to find me—believing that, in the -absence of any hope of help from her brothers, I might aid -her to find her sister and to clear some of the ever -deepening mysteries.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the dusk of an evening, sweet and debonnair, -when we left the castle which had been so long our -home, and descended the perilous steeps to the foot of Ailsa. -Here we found Nell's boat safe in its cove, and immediately -we pushed out, having placed therein all our weapons and -belongings. Nell sat in the stern, and the Dominie and I -took the oars. The storm of the night and morning had -abated, and there was now no more than an oily swell upon -the water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was little talk between us as we went, for we felt -that our lives were in our hands and that we might be only -running into greater perils. I supposed that the Dominie -was thinking of the love he had lost by black, unnatural -murder, on that dangerous shore to which we were making our -way. We kept well to the south of Girvan, because I had -twice gone there on errands which did not tend to make us -favourites with the Bargany Kennedies and their supporters, of -whom the townsfolk were mostly composed. Besides, I -remembered the word of the rascal whom I had held at my -mercy in the house of Mistress Allison, the Grieve's wife at -Culzean. 'The treasure of Kelwood is in the cave of Sawny -Bean on the shore of Bennanbrack over against Benerard.' And -this, though not a clear direction, pointed to some -promontory south of Girvan and north of Ballantrae.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And though the discovery of my master's death was, I -trust, first in my mind, I need not deny that I was also -mindful of the treasure for which so much had been -adventured first and last.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a high tide and a calm sea when we got over -into the loom of the cliffs. We had a making wind and -the tide was with us, so that we had been able to set the sail -part of the way—for a little mast which would carry a lug -sail lay snugly under the thwarts of the boat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie, who in his rambling youth had followed -the sea, both steered and managed the sheet as we drew -nearer the shore, while I lay over the bow and kept a look-out -ahead. We steered towards a light which went wavering -along the top of the rocks, for we opined that it must be -some shepherd wandering with a lantern to look for a lost -sheep. Now it dipped into clefts, now it mounted to the -summit of the crags, and anon it was lost again behind the -screes and tumbled cliffs of the coast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly from high above us, where we had last seen -the light, we heard sounds as of pain and despair—a woman's -cry in her extremity—not weeping or beseeching, but crying -only, being, as it seemed, utterly in distress.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>''Tis our Marjorie! I ken her voice!' cried Nell, and -we all strained our eyes upwards to the dark heuchs. The -lantern had come to a standstill almost directly above us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie silently took down the mast and let it rest -in the bottom of the boat. Our speed slackened till we -floated without motion on the gently heaving water. I -continued to peer into the gloom. Yet how Marjorie -Kennedy could have come to be in danger upon the shore of -Benane was far beyond my comprehending at that time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Marjorie! Sister Marjorie!' cried Nell, as loudly as -she could. And almost as she spoke I saw something white -descending towards us from the cliff, like a poised bird that -closes its pinions and dives into the water. The smitten -waters sprang up white not twenty feet from our bows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I stood erect on the stern, scarce knowing what might -hap, yet to be ready for anything, balancing on both feet for a -spring. And as soon as I had a glimpse of something white -which rose from the black water, I sprang towards it ere it -had time to sink again. For Nell was with me in the boat, -and it was my opportunity to let her see that Launce -Kennedy did not do all his deeds standing thread-dry on -the solid land. I declare, so much was I affected and -worked upon by her crying to her sister, that had it been -Sawny Bean himself I had grappled with him there in the -salt water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it was a braver weight and shape that I held in my -arm—even the slim form of a woman. I felt a thrill run -through me when I found that her arms had been tied -closely behind her back both at wrist and elbow. -Nevertheless, I gripped the cords which confined her, and -struck out for the boat, which I saw black like a rock -above me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was no more than a minute that I supported the girl in -the water, but to me it seemed to be a year, for I was hill -born, and had learned the swimming since I came in my -youth to Culzean. And this never makes a strong nor yet a -long swimmer like the shore-bred boy, who has been half in -and half out of the tide all day long every summer season -since he could walk.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the Dominie speedily brought the boat about, for -indeed there was little way on her at anyrate. In a -moment more his strong hands and long fingers were lifting -Marjorie Kennedy on board, and laying her, all wet as -she was, in the arms of her sister Nell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he gave me a hand over the bow, and we cowered -low in the boat, letting her drift inward with the tide till we -were close under the loom of the land and in the very darkest -of the shadow. We knew well that they who had tied -Marjorie's hands would be on the look-out for her rescuers. -So on the black water we lay and waited.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor had we long to wait, for in a short time voices -echoed here and there among the rocks, and the lantern, with -others which we had not previously seen, appeared far down -near the edge of the sea. At the same time, from the other -direction, came the noise of oars roughly thrown into a boat -and the clambering of men over the side. Then we were, -indeed, in sore jeopardy, for the wind had died to nothing -under the land, and the grey sea lay outside the shadow of -the cliffs with quite enough light upon it to trace us by, if -we rowed out in that direction.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all the while Marjorie lay silent in her sister's arms. -I had cut the cords and chafed her hands as well as I could, -but still she did not speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The pursuers closed rapidly upon us from both sides, and -ere we could think of a plan, we saw the boats pushing out -with torches held at their prows by the hands of dark and -stalwart men. And then the Dominie and I looked to our -pistols and swords, resolving, if it came to the sharp pinch, -to make a good fight for it. For when the two boats -came together they could not choose but find us.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-cleft-in-the-rock"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XXXIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CLEFT IN THE ROCK</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'Let us get in nearer to the land,' said the Dominie; ''tis -the sole chance that remains to us.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So seizing each of us an oar, the sea being perfectly -calm and a full tide lapsing as smoothly upon the cliffs -as the water in a tub wherein good wives wash their duds, -we risked the matter and rowed in closer to the rock. -We sought if by good chance there might be found some -inlet where we could land, or some cave which might -conceal us from the cruel men who were seeking our lives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nor was our adventuring in vain, for as we cautiously -advanced into the blackness, the wall of the cliff seemed -to retire before us, so that the prow of the boat actually -appeared to push it steadily back. A denser darkness, a -very night of Egypt, surrounded us. Gradually the noise of -the pursuers dulled, sank, and died away. We lost sight of -the grey, uneasy plain of the sea behind us, and continued -to advance through a long water passage walled with -rock, the sides of which we could sometimes feel with our -hands and sometimes fail to touch with our oars. This -I took at the time to be a marvellous dispensation of -Providence on our behalf, as without doubt it was. But -now we know that all that shoreward country, owing to -the abundance of soft stone by the seaside, is honeycombed -with caves, so that it was well-nigh impossible to miss at -least one of these in every half mile of cliff all about the -Heads of Benerard. Yet that we should strike this one -of all others appeared a thing worthy of admiration, as -presently you shall hear, and showed the same dispensing -and favourable Providence which has throughout been on -the side of Culzean and against our enemies of Bargany.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie and Nell still sat together in the stern, but so -dense was the dark that we could see nothing of them. -The Dominie and I took our oars from the rullocks and -pushed onward into the cave, hoping to come in time to -some wider space, where we could either disembark or find -a passage out upon the land above us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so presently we came to a place wonderful enough -in itself, yet no more than the gateway to other and greater -marvels.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The waves which had scarcely been visible out on the -open sea ran into the cave at regular intervals, and in the -narrow places formed themselves into a considerable swell -of water. Before us we could hear them break with a -noise like thunder upon some hidden strand or beach. -This somewhat terrified us in that place of horrid darkness, -for the noise was loud as is a waterfall in the time of -spate, the echoing of the cave and the many contracted -passages and wide halls deceiving the ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So our boat, being poised upon the crest of one of -these smooth steeps of water which rolled onward into the -cave, advanced swiftly into a more spacious cavern, where -the oar could be used without touching the rock at either -side. The sounds now came back to us also from high aloft, -and we had the feeling of much air and a certain spacious -vastness above us. Yet the imprisoning darkness, confused -with the lashing of the waves, wrought a kind of invincible -melancholy which weighed down all our spirits.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently, however, the prow of the boat took the slushy -sand in a coign more retired, where the waves did not, as in -other places, fall with an arching dash, but rather lapsed -with a gentler wash as upon a regular beach. Being in the -bow, I lost no time in leaping ashore, and in a few moments -I had the boat fast to a natural pier of rock, behind which -the water was quiet as in a mill pond.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Here in the darkness we helped each other out, and feeling -ourselves now somewhat more safe from our enemies, we -shook one another by the hand and made many congratulation -on our escape, which had indeed been marvellous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Even thus we waited for the day to reveal to us whether -there were any passage by which we could ascend from the -deeps of the Cimmerian pit wherein we were enclosed, -without adventuring out again in our boat upon the water, -where our enemies watched for us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We drew close together upon the rocky pier, and -Marjorie told us of her escape from the Auchendraynes, the -strange tale of which shall hereafter be given at length in -its own place. Also she confirmed the message which she -had sent to her sister, that she had discovered all the -wickedness and certain guilt of the Mures in the death of her -father, and in many other crimes. So we saw before us in -plain case their condemnation, if once we could escape from -this snare and bring their iniquity to light before the King -and the Council. Yet all the while it was a marvel to me -how Marjorie had so completely forgotten James Mure the -younger, who was her wedded husband, even though she -had never rendered to him the love and duty of a wife.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we were by no means yet won out of the wood. -And, at the best, our case was not a particularly -comfortable one. The Dominie and I had, indeed, provided -Marjorie with such wrappings and covertures as were in -our power, which we had brought with us from the isle. But -we had mainly to trust to the virtues of the strong waters -of France, which the Dominie always carried about with -him, as well as to the mildness of the night, that she should -take no harm from her fearful plunge from the cliffs into the -salt water.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But it is certain that the perturbation of one's spirit -at such a time is so great, that many things pass without -penalty to the health which at another season might induce -disease and death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently we found that our boat was being left high -and dry, the water ebbing swiftly away from us towards -the mouth of the cave. We had, as it happened, entered -at the height of the tide, and now the water was upon -the turn. But this affected us little, for we judged that -either it would go so far back that we might find a way -of escape by clambering over the rocks out upon the land; -or else, at the worst, we knew that, by waiting till the -next tide, we should be able to return the way we had -come. At all events, for that time at least, we thought -ourselves to have outwitted our pursuers and to stand no -longer in their danger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we were briskly to learn another way of it, for -the oftenest slip is made upon the threshold of safety.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie and Nell bore themselves through all these -dangers and discomforts with the greatest courage. Never -had this come home to me so strongly before, for the maid's -shamefacedness had died out of Marjorie Kennedy; and -now she seemed wholly set with a fierce jealousy of hate to -compass the punishment of her father's enemies.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The water being in this manner retired, and our boat -lying high and dry upon a shelving beach, I proposed that -the Dominie and myself should attempt some exploration of -the place where we found ourselves—while we left Nell and -her sister by the boat to make such dispositions of their -cleading as would countervale the discomfort of Marjorie's -rescue from death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So the Dominie and I felt with our hands all round the -wide amphitheatre which had so lately been filled with the -salt water. We had no difficulty in discovering the narrow -passage by which we had come, for down its narrow gullet -the water was now retreating with great swiftness. But we -seemed to be at the sack's end in every other way, so that -we looked for nothing else but having to return to the same -place, and in the same way by which we came, after our -enemies had retired. So swiftly did the tide run back, that -it seemed as if it might be possible for us to walk out upon -our own feet. And so indeed we did, but in a very strange -fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For in one of my gropings I came upon a projection of -the rock, which caught my foot and threw me forward -upon my face. As I fell, my hands touched something like -a flight of rough steps which led up from the sanded floor -of the cavern. Without waiting to call out to Dominie -Mure I mounted, with my heart beating fast with anticipation, -and at the top I came into a narrower passage than -any we had yet entered, which led me forward a long -way. As I went the air felt unaccountably lighter. It -smelled most like a well-fired room, dry and pleasant, so -that I waited only to ascertain that the passage ended in -another apartment before going back to communicate my -fortunate discovery to Marjorie and Nell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I reached the boat I found that, by the skilful -management of her sister, Marjorie had been made -somewhat more comfortable, and that the Dominie on his part -had discovered nothing of importance, of which I was glad, -for it became me to be the leader of our expedition. So I -bade him take his weapons, and with what provender we -could carry upon our backs we proceeded all of us together -to the rocky stairway leading to the drier inner cave.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie had as usual brought his pipes over his -shoulder, from which, indeed, he refused to be parted even -for a moment. And but for the fear of the noise reaching -our enemies, I think that there and then he would have -played us both reels and strathspeys—that is, if we had -given him any encouragement, so pleased was he, and, -indeed, all of us, to leave the dark cavern and oozy sand -upon which we had first landed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We were not long in ascending the stairs, and, as I -had foretold, we found ourselves speedily in the warmer and -drier air, like that of a habited house, which was so great -a change from the dripping damp of the lower sea-cave -that we rejoiced greatly, though quite unable to discover -the cause.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet there was something—we knew not what—about -the inner cavern which took us all by the throat. Indeed, -we had not gone far when Marjorie Kennedy gasped for -breath and said, 'Let us go back! I do not like the -place!</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this I took to be no more than the dashing of her -spirit by the adventures of the night, and the terrors through -which, as she had already told us, she had come in the dreary -and dangerous house of Auchendrayne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the passage broadened out into a wider hall with a -firm floor of hard earth, as if it had been beaten or trampled. -We had hardly been in this place longer than a few -moments when a strangely persistent and pervading smell -began to impress us with the deadliest loathing. It was -sharp, pungent, and familiar. Yet could none of us tell -whence it came, nor in what place we had smelled it before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am faint unto death,' said Marjorie, leaning heavily on -me. 'Let me go back, Launcelot, while I can.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But this, for the sake of the dryness and comfort, I was -not willing to do. So, stumbling now over one thing and -now over another in the darkness, I made shift to find -a further passage.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I chanced to put down my hand, when my foot struck -something heavier and more massive than before, and, lo! to -my horror, I touched the side of a wooden tub or vat. And -scarce had I moved from the place where I was, before -something cold and soft brushed my face, as if it had been -suspended from the roof. My heart trembled, for we were -plainly in a place of habitation of some unknown and terrible -sort.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Stand still where you are,' I cried to my companions. -For I was afraid that they also might come against one of -these obstructions, which were good evidence of others -having been in this abode of horror and darkness as well as -ourselves.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Immediately I set to the groping again, and went -stumbling from one thing to another till I came to a -branching passage which ascended away from the hall. And since -here, in the roomy alcove high above the floor of the cave, -there were (so far as I could find) none of the vats or other -furniture which I had encountered about the sides of the -greater cave, I decided to use it as a place of temporary shelter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I made my way back to where they were all standing -close together, and I pinched the Dominie's arm in token -that he was to ask no questions. Then very slowly and -stealthily we felt our way to the little alcove which I had -found. And as often as I stumbled against anything, I -pretended to clatter some of the stuff which I carried -upon my back, having laden myself with it at the boat. -And so passed the matter off.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last we came to the hiding-place which had been my -latest discovery, and found that the rock was cut, as it had been, -into seats all round about, while the path ascended upwards -at the back yet higher into the stone, by which I judged -that we had not yet come to the end of the cavern. Here -in the high alcove or gallery above the main cave we -accommodated ourselves, and disposed our belongings as well as we -could for the darkness. The Dominie set himself to arrange -them, while Nell and Marjorie lay covered up together in -our plaids upon the stone bench which ran about the place, -and which appeared to have been hewn out at some past -time by the rude art of man. But I myself, to whom it -came as natural to be stirring as to breathe, set about -making a further exploration.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now my disappointment was great when I found that -we had indeed come to the limit of the cavern. Search -which way I would, my hands encountered nothing but -rock. Nevertheless, I continued my circuit, standing upon -the stone ledge and groping above me, for it was possible -that there was some fresh passage which from this alcove -might lead to the outer air.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly, while I was searching with my hands at the -top of the steps of stone, and, without the least warning, my -finger tips fell upon something which felt colder than the -stone. I touched metal—then the projection of a keyhole, -then the iron corners of a chest. I ran my hand along the -pattern of the metal bands which bound the lid. What -wonder that my heart beat vehemently, for I knew in that -moment that I had my hand upon the Treasure of Kelwood!</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-cave-of-death"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XL</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE CAVE OF DEATH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>For a moment there in the darkness I stood dazed, and my -head swam, for I bethought me of the Earl's words, as well as -of the words of the Minister of Edinburgh, and I knew that -my fate stood upon tip-toe. For here in the finding of this -box lay all my life, and it might be my love also. But -again another thought crossed the first, damming back and -freezing the current of hot blood which surged to my heart. -The caird's words in the Grieve's kitchen also came back to -me, 'You will find the Treasure of Kelwood in the cave -of Sawny Bean in the head of Bennanbrack over against -Benerard.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If this were so, there was little doubt but that we stood -in the most instant and imminent danger of our lives. Yet -I could not bring myself to leave the treasure. Doubtless I -ought to have done so, and hastened our escape for the sake -of the girls, Nell and Marjorie. But I thought it might be -possible to convey the chest out, and so bring both our -quests to an end at once—that for treasure, by the recovery -of the box which had been lost and found, and then lost again -upon the Red Moss, and that of vengeance, by the certain -condemnation of the Auchendraynes upon Marjorie's evidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The next moment mighty fear took hold on me. All that -I had heard since my childhood, about the unknown being -who dwelled upon the shore-side of Benane and lived no man -knew how, ran through my mind—his monstrous form, his -cloven feet that made steads on the ground like those of -a beast, his huge, hairy arms, clawed at the finger ends like -the toes of a bear. I minded me of the fireside tales of -travellers who had lost their way in that fastness, and who, -falling into the power of his savage tribe, returned no more -to kindlier places. I minded also how none might speak -to the prowler by night, nor get answer from him—how -every expedition against him had come to naught, because -that he was protected by a power stronger than himself, -warned and advised by an intelligence higher than his own. -Besides, none had been able to find the abode, nor yet to -enter into the secret defences where lurked the man-beast of -Benerard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was in this abode of death that I, Launce Kennedy, -being, as I supposed, in my sane mind, had taken refuge -with two women, one the dearest to me on earth. The -blood ran pingling and pricking in my veins at the thought. -My heart cords tightened as though it too had been shut -in a box and the key turned.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hastily I slipped down, and upon a pretext took the -Dominie aside to tell him what it was that I had found.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye have found our dead warrant then. I wish we had -never seen your treasures and brass-banded boxes!' said he -roughly, as if I had done it with intent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in troth I began to think he was right. But it -was none of my fault, and, so far as I could see, we had been -just as badly off in that place, if I had not found it at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After that I went ranging hither and thither among all -the passages and twinings of the cave, yet never daring to go -very far from the place where we were, lest I should not -be able to find my way back. For it was an ill, murderous, -uncanny abode, where every step that I took something -strange swept across my face or slithered clammily along -my cheek, making me grue to my very bone marrows. I am -as fond of a nimble fetch of adventures as any man, as -every believing reader of this chronicle kens well by this -time, but I want no more such darkling experiences—specially -now that I am become a peaceable man, and no -longer so regardlessly forward as I once was, in thrusting -myself into all stirs and quarrels up to the elbows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then in a little I went soft-footed to where Marjorie -and Nell had bestowed themselves. When I told them how -we had run into danger with a folly and senselessness that -nothing could have excused—save the great necessity into -which, by the hellish fury of our enemies, we had been -driven—it was indeed cheerful to hear their words of trust -and their declarations that they could abide the issue with -fortitude.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So a little heartened, we made such preparations as we -could—as preparing our pistols and loosening our swords. -Yet all had to be done by touch, in that abode of darkness -and black, un-Christian deeds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was silent and eerie beyond telling in the cave. We -heard the water lapping further and further from us as it -retreated down the long passage. Now and then we seemed -to catch a gliff of the noise of human voices. But again, -when we listened, it seemed naught but the wind blowing -every way through the passages and halls of the cave, or -the echoed wing-beatings of the uncanny things that -battened in the roofs and crevices of this murtherous cavern, -unfathomed, unsounded, and obscure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we had not long to wait ere our courage and -resolution were tested to the uttermost. For presently -there came to us, clearly enough, though faintly at first, -the crying and baying of voices fearful and threatening. -Indeed they sounded more like the insensate howling of dogs -or shut-up hungry hounds in a kennel than kindly human -creatures. Then there was empty silence, through which -the noise came in gusts like the sudden, deadly anger of a -mob. Again it came, more sharp and double-edged with -fear, like the wailing of women led to unpitied doom. And -the sound of this inhuman carnival, approaching, filled the -cave with shuddering.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This direful crying came nearer and nearer, till we all -cowered paleface together, save Marjorie alone—who, having -been, as it were, in hell itself, feared not the most merciless -fiends that might have broken loose therefrom. She stood -a little apart from us, so far that I had not known her -presence but for the draught of air that blew inward, which -carried her light robe towards me, so that its texture -touched my face, and I was aware of the old subtle -fragrance which in happy days had well-nigh turned my -head in the gardens of Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nell Kennedy stood close to me, so close that I -could hear her heart beating and the little nervous sound of -the clasping and the unclasping of her hands—which thing -made me somewhat braver, especially when she put both her -palms about my arm and gripped it convulsively to her, as -the noises of the crying and howling waxed louder and -nearer.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am vexed that I flouted you, Launce,' she whispered -in my ear. 'I do not care a docken what you said to Kate -Allison. After all, she is not such a truth-telling girl, nor -yet by-ordinary bonny.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I whispered to her that I cared not either, but that I -was content to die for her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, but you might have lived for me,' she moaned, -'if I had not led you into all this trouble.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, Nell, my dear,' said I, hastily, 'speak not so. -You have ever been our saviour and our best fortune -hitherto, and so shall be yet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then (mock us not) in the darkness of the cave we -kissed each other once or twice, amorously and willingly, -and the savour of it was passing sweet even when we looked -for naught but death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give me a dagger,' Nell said to me, and I gave mine -own to her, which she put away in her bosom, as I judged, -and again took my hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the horrid brabblement filled all the cave, and -sounded louder and more outrageous, being heard in -darkness. Suddenly, however, the murky gloom was shot -through with beams of light, and a rout of savages, wild -and bloody, filled the wide cave beneath us. Some of them -carried rude torches, and others had various sorts of -back-burdens, which they cast down in the corners. I gat a gliff -of one of these, and though in battle I had often seen things -grim and butcherly, my heart now sprang to my mouth, so -that I had well-nigh fainted with loathing. But I commanded -myself, and thrust me before Nell, who from where -she sat could only see the flickering skarrow of the torches -upon the roof and walls—for the place seemed now, -after the former darkness of Egypt, fairly bursting with -light.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I knew that these execrable hell-hounds must be -the hideous crew who called Sawny Bean lord and master. -They were of both sexes and all ages, mostly running naked, -the more stalwart of them armed with knives and whingers, -or with knotted pieces of tree in which a ragged stone had -been thrust and tied with sinew or tags of rope. The very -tottering children were striking at one another, or biting -like young wolves, till the blood flowed. In the corner sat -an old bleared hag, who seemed of some authority over -them, for she pointed with her finger, and the uproar calmed -itself a little. The shameless naked women-crew began to -bestir themselves, and heaped broken driftwood upon the -floor, to which presently a light was set.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the red climbing flame went upward. The wood -smoke filled the cave, acrid and tickling, which, getting into -our throats, might have worked us infinite danger, had it not -been that the clamour of the savages was so great that it -never stilled for a moment. But in time we became -accustomed to the reek, and it disturbed us not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>More by luck than good guiding, the place where we -sat was, as I have said, favourably situate for seeing without -being seen—being a kind of natural balcony or chamber in -the wall, like a swallow's nest plastered under the eaves of -a barn. We learned afterwards that it was a place -forbidden by Sawny Bean, the head of the clan, and so kept -sacred for himself when it should please him to retire -thither for his ease and pleasure, with whomsoever he would -of his unholy crew. And to this no doubt we owed our -safety, for the young impish boys roamed everywhere else, -specially swarming and yelling about our boat, which they -had just discovered. I noted, also, that when any of these -came in the way of the men, he was knocked down -incontinent with a hand, a knife, or a stick, as was most -convenient. Sometimes the lad would lie a minute or two -where he had been struck, then up again, and to the -playing and disport he fell, as though nothing had -happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>All this was horrid enough, but that was not the worst -of it, and I own that I hesitate to write that which I -saw. Yet, for the sake of the truth, tell I must and will. -The cavern was very high in the midst, but at the sides not -so high—rather like the sloping roof of an attic which -slants quickly down from the rooftree. But that which -took my eye amid the smoke were certain vague shapes, as -it had been of the limbs of human beings, shrunk and -blackened, which hung in rows on either side of the cave. -At first it seemed that my eyes must certainly deceive me, -for the reek drifted hither and thither, and made the -rheum flow from them with its bitterness. But after a little -study of these wall adornments, I could make nothing else -of it, than that these poor relics, which hung in rows from the -roof of the cave like hams and black puddings set to dry in -the smoke, were indeed no other than the parched arms and -legs of men and women who had once walked the upper -earth—but who by misfortune had fallen into the power -of this hideous, inconceivable gang of monstrous -man-eaters. Then the true interpretation of all the tales -that went floating about the countryside, and which I -had hitherto deemed wholly vain and fantastical, burst -upon me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there was that nearer to me which smote me down -like a blow taking a man at unawares. As I stood up -to look, gripping nervously at my sword and peering over, -there came a gust off the sea, roaring up the passages of the -cavern. For with the moon the wind had risen without. -The fire on the floor flickered upward and filled the place -with light. I felt something touch my cheek. Speedily I -turned, and, lo! it was a little babe's hand that swung by a -cord. The wind had caught it, so light it was, and it had -rubbed my cheek. By the Lord, it was enough and more -than enough. I sank down and the spirit within me became -water because of that soft, sliding little hand. Had the -naked devils come on to me then, I declare I had not found -power to lift my hand against them, nor so much as to set a -finger to the latch of a pistol.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in a little while I was strengthened, for now, -as though I had never seen her before, I saw the true -face of the brave lass Nell Kennedy. And it is passing -sweet, even in the presence of death, to see the eyes of the -beloved for the first time after declared and unashamed love -has come into them. She never took her sad, steadfast regard -from my face, and, as I say, I was infinitely strengthened -thereby.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I could also mark Marjorie Kennedy. And since she -stood erect, I knew that she had seen all the blasting horrors -I had witnessed—except, perhaps, the babe's hand a-swing -by its cord. Yet there was no blanching of her face. -Rather, she stood and eyed the scene with a calm and assured -countenance, like to a stake-kissing martyr ere the flames -are lit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>If ever any soul had cast out fear it was that of Marjorie -Kennedy, for unfathomed hate can do that as well as -perfect love—and especially in a woman.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when my eyes fell on Dominie Mure, I got a yet -greater start. The little, thickset man, who had been my -brave companion through such a multitude of dangers, seemed -to be transformed. A still and biting fury sat inexorably on -his lips. He gripped his blade as if he would spring straight -over the wall of rock upon the bestial crew. So afraid was -I to look upon him and read his intent in his burning eyes, -that I undid for a moment the clasp of Nell's hand upon my -shoulder and crawled to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Have a care what you do, Dominie,' I whispered in his -ear. 'Remember, it is of the women we have to think.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For as clearly as if I had read it in print, I saw his desire -and his determination. He thought of young Mary Torrance, -the lass that had been spirited away. And the red stain on -the grass, and the ghastly garniture about the walls of the -monster's cave, had revealed to him the conclusion of the -untold tale.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But my words stopped him dead, like a bullet in the -heart of a springing wild cat on the bough. He looked -just once at me, and his eyes had the same wild glare. But -there came that into them which told me of a thought -greater than the stark revenge on which he had been all -intent but a few moments before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I bent still nearer to his ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Dominie,' I said, 'if they come at us, mind that we -are not to leave the lasses alive to fall into their bloody -hands.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He looked at me with a haggard face and shook -his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I cannot do it!' he said, and set his hands over his -eyes to hide the torches' flare.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he looked up again I pointed to the loathed -things that decked the walls in the eaves of the cave, and -to the pickle barrels that stood in the corners.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie understood and nodded.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Surely you can if </span><em class="italics">I</em><span> can,' I whispered to him. 'I will -take care of Nell—my love, if you—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I looked at Marjorie so that he understood fully. -Then came my eyes back to Nell. They felt hot and dry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For I was taken with the reek in them, and my heart rose -within me to think that in a swift tale of moments I might -have to take away the sweet life from my own heart's love. -But when I went back to her, there was a new light of -understanding in the face on which the flicker of the fire -was reflected from the roof. I knew that she had seen and -understood the import of my colloquy with the Dominie, -and our looking from the one to the other of them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet the fear had strangely gone from her face. I -declare she looked almost glad. She set her lips to my -ear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launce,' she whispered, 'I want none but you to do -it—if so be that it comes to that. You will, will you -not, Launce?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I knew that she had understood all the love she -had seen in my face. For, indeed, I would rather had killed -my sweetheart a hundred times, than let her fall alive into -the hands of such a ghastly, bestial devil's crew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Nell Kennedy, trusting me with the manner of -her death as though it had been a little love-tryst between -ourselves, sat looking up at me with such eyes of love and -trust that they went nigh to make me forget that -Cimmerian den and the ghoulish beasts that rioted in it.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-were-wolf-of-benerard"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE WERE-WOLF OF BENERARD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Thus we sat a long time, waiting. Suddenly there was -a pause in the noise which filled the cavern below. I -thought for a moment that they had discovered us. But -Marjorie moved her hand a little to bid me keep down. -And very carefully I raised my head over the rock, so -that through the niche I could as before look down upon -them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The water-door of the cave was now entirely filled -by a black bulk, in shape like a grizzly ape. Even in -the flickering light I knew instantly that I had seen the -monster before. A thrill ran through me when I -remembered the man-beast, the thing with which I had -grappled in the barn of Culzean the night I out-faced the -Grey Man. And now by the silence and the crouching -of the horde beneath me, I learned that their master had -come home. The monster stood a moment in the doorway -as though angered at something, then he spoke in -a voice like a beast's growl, certain things which I could -not at all understand—though it was clear that his progeny -did, for there ensued a tumultuous rushing from side to side. -Then Sawny Bean strode into the midst of his den. It -happened that by misadventure he stumbled and set his foot -upon a lad of six or seven, judging by the size of him, who -sprawled naked in the doorway. The imp squirmed round -like a serpent and bit Sawny Bean in the leg, whereat -he stooped, and catching the lad by the feet, he dashed -his head with a dull crash against the wall, and threw him -quivering like a dead rabbit into the corner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The rest stood for a moment aghast. But in a trice, and -without a single one so much as going to see if the boy -were dead or only stunned, the whole hornet's byke hummed -again, and the place was filled with a stifling smell of burning -fat and roasting victual, upon the origin of which I dared -not let my mind for a moment dwell.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When Sawny Bean came in, he had that which looked -like a rich cloth of gold over his arm—the plunder of some -poor butchered wretch, belike. He stood with this trophy -in front of him, examining it before the fire. Presently he -threw it over his shoulders, with the arms hanging idly down -in front, and strode about most like a play-actor or a mad -person—but manifestly to his own great content and to the -huge admiration of his followers, who stood still and gaped -after him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When he had satisfied himself with this posturing, the -monster looked towards our place of refuge. A great spasm -seized my heart when I saw him take the first step towards -us, for I guessed that it was his forbidden treasure-house in -which we lurked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I thought it had certainly come to the last bitter push -with us. But something yet more terrible than the matter -of the boy diverted for the moment the monster's attention. -The lad whom he had cast to the side had been left alone, -none daring to meddle. But now, as he passed him, Sawny -Bean gave the body a toss with his foot. At this, quick as -a darting falcon on the stoop, a woman sprang at him from, -a crevice where she had been crouching—at least by her -shape she was a woman, with long elf-locks twisting like -snakes about her brow and over her shoulders. She held an -open knife in her hand, and she struck at the chieftain's -hairy breast. I heard the point strike the flesh, and the cry -of anger and pain which followed. But the monster caught -the woman by the wrist, pulled her over his knee, and bent -back her head. It was a horrid thing to see, and there is -small wonder that I can see it yet in many a dream of the -night. And no doubt also I shall see it till I die—hear it -as well, which is worse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then for a long season I could look no more. But when -I had recovered me a little, and could again command my -heart, I saw a great part of the crew swarm thick as -flies—fetching, carrying, and working like bees upon spilled -honey about the corner where had lain the bodies of the -lad and the woman. But it was not in the ordinary way -that these were being prepared for burial. In the centre of -the cave sat Sawny Bean, with some of the younger sort of -the women pawing over him and bandaging his wounded -shoulder. He was growling and spitting inarticulately all -the while like a wild cat. And every time his shoulder hurt -him as the women worked with the wound and mouthed -it, he would take his other hand and strike one of them -down, as though it was to her that he owed the twinge of -pain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently the monster arose and took the gold brocade -again in his hand. I thought that of a certainty now our -time was come, and I looked at Nell Kennedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>God knows what was in my eyes. My heart within -me was ready to break, for the like of this pass had never -man been in. That I should have to smite my love to the -death within an hour of my first kiss and the first owning -of her affection.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she that loved me read my thought in mine eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She bared her neck for me, so that I could see its tender -whiteness in the flicker of the fire.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Strike there,' she said, 'and let me die in your arms, -who art my own heart's love, Launcelot Kennedy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I heard the beast-man's step on the stair. I looked -from Nell's dear neck to her eyes and back again to her -bosom. Then I lifted my hand with the steel in it, and -nerved myself for the striking, for I must make no mistake. -And even in that moment I saw the gleam of a dagger in -Marjorie's hand also.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly a tremendous rush of sound filled the cave. -The blade fell from my hand, and by instinct, not knowing -what we did, Nell and I clasped one another. The clamour -seemed to be about us and all round us. Roaring echoes -came back to us. The bowels of the earth quaked. Yet -methought there was something strongly familiar in the -sound of it. I turned me about, and there, standing erect -with all his little height was the Dominie. His cheeks -were distended, and he was blowing upon his great -war-pipes such a thunderous pibroch as never had been heard -east of the Minch since the island pipes skirled on the Red -Harlaw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What madcap possession had come upon his mind, I -know not. But the effect I can tell. The pack of fiends -that caroused and slew beneath, stood stricken a moment -in amaze at the dreadful, incomprehensible sounds. Then -they fled helter-skelter, yellyhooing with fear, down the -narrow sea-way from which the tide had now fully ebbed. -And when I looked again, there was not a soul to be seen. -Only over the edge of a lappered cauldron the body of the -murdered woman (or, at least, a part of it), lay doubled—a -bloody incentive to make haste out of this direful -Cave of Death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie stepped down from our hidden alcove as -though he had been leading a march, strutting and passaging -like the King's piper marching about the banqueting table -at Holyrood. I declare the creature seemed 'fey.' He was -certainly possessed with a devil. But the very fearlessness of -the deed won into our veins also, for with steel or pistol -in each of our hands we marched after him—ready, and, -indeed, eager, to encounter aught that might come in our -way. Ay, and even thus we passed out of the cave, hasting -down the long passage without a quiver of the heart or a -blenching of the cheek—so suddenly and so starkly, by way -of unexpected hope, had the glorious music brought the hot -blood back to our hearts, even as it had stricken our cruel -foes with instant terror.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus dryshod we marched out of the cave of Sawny -Bean, and, as I am a true man, not so much as a dog -barked at us. But when we emerged into the grey of a -stormy morning and reached the cliff's edge, we heard -inland the wild voices of the gang yelling down the -wind, as though the furies of fear were still pursuing them -and tearing at their vitals. What they expected I know -not, but I conceive that they must have taken the -Dominie's pipes for whatever particular devil they happened -to believe in, come to take them quick to their own place. -Which, after all, could not be much worse than the den -in which we had seen them at their disport. Nor could -all the torturing fiends of lowest hell have been their -marrows in devilish cruelty.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="ane-lochaber-aix-gied-him-his-paiks"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">ANE LOCHABER AIX GIED HIM HIS PAIKS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>So once more the world was before us, and strangely peaceful -it seemed, as if somehow or other we had died in stress -and riot and been born again into an uncanny quiet. There -remained for us now only the bringing to pass of righteous -judgments upon the wicked ones who had compassed and -plotted all this terrible tale of evils—these murders without -end, these hellish cruelties and death-breeding deceits. For -the vengeance must not fall alone on the crazed outlaw and -his brood, since the chief criminals were those that were -greater and wiser than Sawny Bean and his merciless crew.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was, as I say, the breaking of a stormy morrow when -we faced up the brae, sword in hand, finding none to -withstand us, for all had fled before the music of the wild -Highland drones. Then in the sustaining quiet I asked -the Dominie by what inspiration he had thought of such -a mad thing as thus blasting upon the war-pipes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh it just came to me!' said he, lightly. And with -that he wiped his chanter and set the drones under his arm, -letting them hang down as though they had been the legs -of a lamb which a herd has found on the hill.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But our troubles were not yet over, for we had to pass -through many miles of Bargany country ere we could reach -our own folk. I proposed to turn landwards, for that, as -the crow flies, is the shortest road. But the Dominie -denied me, saying that since those cruel monsters of the -were-wolfs band had fled that way, the closer we kept to -the coast, the safer we should be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We made, therefore, only such a detour as would enable us -to escape the town of Girvan, which was a strength of our foes, -and passing by Killochan, a pleasant and friendly tower, well -set in a wooded valley with a view of our old strength of -Ailsa, we hastened as fast as we could march with the -women in our company to Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now near by Killochan there was a school and a schoolmaster, -the name of him John Guid. He had been for a -long season a friend and crony of our Dominie Mure. To -him we resorted, or rather the Dominie went alone to seek -him, while I abode with Marjorie and Nell. It was over in -the afternoon when he came back, and what was our joy to -hear behind him the trampling of a pair of hardy ponies, for -with the weariness of her terrible quest and the stress of the -night in the Cave of Death, Marjorie looked dismally near -to her end. And, indeed, I am not sure that Nell was -greatly better.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie had passed some part of the long march in -telling us in bits and snatches the tale of her sufferings, -her flight and capture, and how by evil and hateful hands -she had been flung into the water from off the Heuch of -Benerard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was a tale of most tyrannous wrong, and shall be -kept for its own place, when Marjorie came to tell it to -a greater and more powerful than either Launcelot Kennedy -or Dominie Mure of Maybole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I shall, therefore, let the reader wait yet a brief space for -the explanation of many things which are dark to him -now, and which had been equally dark to me till that -gusty, rain-plashing morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we four fared northward over the moors of Carrick, -with Marjorie and Nell riding upon the garrons, and the -Dominie and myself hasting along by their side with a -hand apiece in their stirrup-leathers. We were just by -the edge of the Red Moss, and going straight and snell -for my Lord Earl's house of Cassillis, when Nell, who -was ever our most keen-eyed watcher, cried out that we -were pursued. And when I had turned me about and -looked, I saw that of a surety it was so.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I thought that if it should happen that we were -attacked, it might be as well to have the advantage of -position. So I posted our party on a little heathery mound, -having an open lairy moss in front with dangerous quags, -trembling bogs, and square black islands of moss and -peat standing in the midst, all gashed and riven. Here -we waited, the two men of us under arms in front, -and the maids standing close behind the horses, with the -bridles loose in their hands.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had cast my cloak over the shoulder of Nell's sheltie to -clear my arms for the fray, if indeed it should come to the clash -of blows; and it pleased me well to see her catch it without a -word, and fold it like a wife who watches her husband and is -pleased to anticipate his need. This indeed (I say it twice) -pleased me well, for I knew that she had done with daffing -with me any more, and that she had at last forgotten all -the matters concerning that pretty tell-tale Kate Allison.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The three men who rode toward us were at first to -our sight like ships low down on the sea-line. But they -mounted steadily, spears and pennons first, after that the -shine of armour, and then the heads of their horses, becking -and bowing with the travail of the moss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then verily we that stood had anxious hearts, for we -knew not whether they might chance to be friend or foe, -and, indeed, it was well that we looked for the worst. As -they came nearer we saw that the two who rode ahead were -armed in a knightly way, and gripped lances in their hands. -But the third, who came behind and held a little aloof, -was plainly clad in a grey cloak and hat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is Auchendrayne and a younger man, with the Wolf -of Drummurchie in their company; it could not well be -worse,' said the Dominie. 'We are like to be hard -bested.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I knew that Marjorie Kennedy looked once more -upon the man who, in cold blood, had slain her father, and -also upon the man who according to the law, was her -husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had looked for them to call a parley, and had set -myself in front to acquit me well in the barter of words -before the damsels; but I was not prepared for the event -as it happened.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For without a word of preamble, warning or speech-making, -John Mure of Auchendrayne (he in the cloak of -grey) cried out, 'Have at them! Slay them every one! -'Tis now too late for whimsies. It is our lives for theirs -if we do not.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So with that the two younger men-at-arms came on, -couching their long lances and riding directly at us. I -stuck my sword downward by the point, naked in the soft -moss at my side, so that I should not have it to draw out -of the sheath when it came to the pinch. And for the last -time I looked at my pistol priming, and longed horribly for -one of my lord's new hackbutts of the French pattern out -of the armoury of Cassillis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But wishing would not bring them or I had had a dozen, -each with a good Culzean man behind it, with his finger -on the touch. But yet you may depend that my imagination -bodied them forth, standing there useless in the press, -oiled and burnished, as I had seen them. And all the while -the two villains came on.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, in a plain place we had had but little chance to -stand against them, cumbered with the women as we were; -but the peat hag I had chosen for our defence on the edge -of the Red Moss favoured us. When, however, I had fired -my pistol and made nothing of it, save only the clink of the -bullet whizzing off the plate metal, they got time to ride -round the main obstruction. Then it had gone hard with -us indeed, but that the Dominie Mure, as the horses came -forward, blew so sudden a snorting blast upon his pipes, that -one of the steeds swerved and stumbled, almost throwing -his rider to the ground. Then, ere he had time to recover, -the Dominie was upon him with his sword, springing upward -and striking like an angry etter-cap ever at the face, -so that it took the horseman all his time to defend himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The other drave at me full tilt with his long spear, and -though I leapt aside from the lance-thrust, I, with only my -pistol and sword, had been no better than a dead man at -the next turn. But Marjorie Kennedy, giving the bridle -reins of both horses to her sister, seized the Dominie's -Lochaber axe. She sprang behind the visored man, and, -hooking the bent prong in his gorget collar behind, she -pulled him down from his horse with a clash of armour. -Then, after that, there remained nothing for me to do, but -to set my sword to his throat and bid him yield himself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>By this time the frightened horse which had stumbled -first became perfectly mad, and turning in spite of all that -Thomas of Drummurchie could do, it galloped away with -him, belly-to-earth, across the Red Moss.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the man in the grey cloak also put his horse to -its speed, so soon as he saw how the matter was like to go. -For he had kept at a distance and taken no part in the -fighting. We were therefore left alone, victorious, without -a wound, and with the man in the visor, our prisoner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He seemed to be stunned with his fall, so Marjorie -stooped and undid his laced steel-cap, shelling his head as -one shells the husk of a nut from the kernel.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The man whom she revealed was James Mure the -younger of Auchendrayne, her wedded husband.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stood thus some time in wonderment what should be -the upshot. Marjorie Kennedy (I cannot while I live call -her by any other name) stood looking down at the man to -whom in foulest treachery she had been given. Then after -a while Nell touched my arm, and lo! on the Moss, there -was yet another man on horseback coming towards us. I -knew the beast. It was the same on which the Wolf of -Drummurchie had ridden. But the man was other than -the Wolf.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The thing was a mystery to us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But at last Nell, whose eyes were like an eagle's for -keenness—though, as I have before observed, of heavenly beauty, -cried out, 'It is Robert Harburgh—we are saved!' Which -was no great things of a saying, for I myself had saved her -ten times during that last night and day, if it came to any -talk of saving. Yet I think from that moment she began -to draw away a little from me. Whether as remembering -some of my old ploys with that tricksy lass who was now -Robert Harburgh's wife, or partly lest she should have -seemed to be over-ready in owning her love for me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At any rate, after I had thought over her unkindness -and sudden chill a little while, I was not sure that it might -not be after all the best sign in the world. For as the -reader of this chronicle must have gathered, I am a man -of some penetration in these matters, and it is not given to -any woman to twine Launcelot Kennedy in a knot about -her little finger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Also I have had very considerable experience.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Faith,' cried Robert Harburgh, when he had ridden up, -'whom have we here?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I answered him with another question.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where gat ye that horse, Robert?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I got it,' he replied, readily and also calmly, 'from a -man that is little likely to need it again, at least for a tale -of months.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'From Thomas of Drummurchie?' I asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who else?' said Harburgh, simply, as though the fact -had been sufficient explanation; as, indeed, it was—in the -way he said it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all the while Marjorie stood looking calmly down at -James Mure. He recovered little by little from the stunning -knock, and presently made as if he would sit up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tie his hands,' said Marjorie Kennedy. And then -seeing that we hesitated—'nay, give me the halter,' she said, -'I will do it myself.' And there on the open moor, with -the bridle of his own beast, I declare she did the binding -featly and well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, listen, James Mure,' she said, raising her voice, -'ye have steeped your hands in my father's blood. Ye have -shed yet more blood to cover that crime, even the blood of -an innocent young child. With these hands that are tied, -you did these things. I am your wife. I will never -leave you nor forsake you till you die. I will see that -you have fair and honourable trial; but be assured that I -shall testify against you truly as to that which I know and -have seen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned to us with her old easy way of command, -imperiously gracious, but sharper a little than her ordinary. -'Mount him on that horse,' she said, like a queen who -issues commands to her court.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this was she who had walked gladsomely with me -in the garden at Culzean, and who in smiling maidenly -condescension had given a love-sick boy her favour to wear. -What agony of hell had passed over her spirit thus to turn -the sweet maiden to a woman of stone?</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whither shall we take him?' said I, for it seemed to -me not at all expedient to delay longer than we could help -in that disturbed and fatal part of the country.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'To the Earl, on his way to the King!' replied Marjorie -Kennedy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'If ye bide still half-an-hour where ye are, ye will see -the Earl come hither,' said Robert Harburgh. 'He rides to -the south to hold his yearly Court of Bailiary on the borders -of Carrick.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For since the great defeat of the Bargany faction, and -the death of the young chief at the gate of Maybole upon -that memorable day of snow, my Lord Cassillis had gained -more and more in power, so that none now was able to -make any head openly against him. The death of Sir -Thomas, my good master, had also thrown all that -additional weight of authority upon his shoulders. Indeed -Earl John bode fair to be what his father had been before -him—the King of Carrick.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His titular jurisdiction had always included the southern -parts of the district. But it was only of late that he had -made himself so strong as to be able to enforce his authority -there.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, however, Earl John was riding to hold his Court -near Girvan, in a country which not a great while ago had -been purely a stronghold of his enemies, and which still -swarmed with the disaffected and rebellious.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So even while we stood and waited there, Nell cried out -that a cavalcade rode southward toward us by the edge of -the Red Moss. It was not long before we could discern -the fluttering pennons of blue and gold, which denoted the -presence of the Earl. He had with him a noble retinue of -well-nigh four hundred—all handsomely armed—many of -them knights and gentlemen of his own name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We waited for them to come up with us, I meanwhile -keeping close by Nell's side, and Marjorie Kennedy standing -steadfastly at her husband's head and looking at him, while -Robert Harburgh marched up and down with his hands under -his points and whistled the 'Broom o' the Cowdenknowes.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When the Earl John, riding first as was his custom, -perceived who we were, he lighted down with much courtesy -to salute his cousins.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How do you, ladies? And what, by the grace of God, -brings you hither with so small a company in such a -dangerous place?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then said Marjorie, 'Earl of Cassillis, you are my -cousin; but you are also Bailzie of Carrick and hold the -power of life and death. I take you and all your company -to witness that I deliver over to you this man, called James -Mure of Auchendrayne. He is twice a convict murderer—right -cruelly he slew my father and your uncle, and I charge -him also with the fact of the murder of William Dalrymple, -a poor boy of tender years, whom he killed with his own -hands to cover the first deed—both which accusations I -shall in due time make good.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl was manifestly mightily astonished, as well he -might be, at the Lady Marjorie's declaration; but he was -glad also, because it was no light thing for him to lay -the enemy of his house by the heels, and, seeing good -prospect of getting the Mures attainted and denounced, -to be able to make himself omnipotent in all the lands of -the south.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bring the man along with us!' he commanded. 'Let -him have all tendance and care; but let a double guard be -placed over him.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will be his guard!' said Marjorie, firmly. 'I, and -no other!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, Earl John named a retinue to ride with -Marjorie and her husband, in the name of a guard of -honour; but really because he felt his fingers already on -the throat of his house's enemy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as we rode back the way we had come—now no -longer in fear and trembling, but in manifest state and -pomp—Marjorie sate humbly upon a sheltie by the side -of the man who was lawfully her husband, and yet whom -she had most sacredly vowed to bring to the gallows.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And for the present the Dominie and I resolved to keep -the secret of the Cave of Death, and of the fearsome inner -place where was bestowed the Treasure of Kelwood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But immediately after the Court of Justiceaire I resolved -to make it known to the Earl, for so Nell and I had made -our compact. And as for the Dominie he might be relied -upon to speak or to be silent even as I bade him.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-moot-hill-of-girvan"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLIII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MOOT HILL OF GIRVAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>As may well be imagined, two hundred gentlemen with -their retinue of as many more of the commonalty made a -gallant stir, and required almost the providing of an army. -So that as we went southward the people were well warned -to repair to the Court of my Lord Bailzie of Carrick, for the -office of Earl John was the greatest of the Lowland hereditary -jurisdictions. Though the house of Cassillis has never -been so beloved of the people nor yet so careful of their -rights as that of the Agnews of Lochnaw, who from very -ancient times have been Sheriffs of Galloway.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, it was a right solemn gathering which -assembled on the little hill outside the town of Girvan, -where such feudal courts had always been held. Within -the enclosure, formed by the fluttering blue and gold -pennons of the Earl, there was set a high seat for Cassillis -himself. In front of him, at a draped table, sat his adviser -and assessor, Lawyer Boyd of Penkill, while all round -the gentlemen of his house and name sat or stood according -to their degree, just outside the line of pennons, within -which none might come save the accused and they who -gave their evidence.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the trumpeter from the summit of the Moot Hill -of Girvan made proclamation with three blasts of his -horn that the session was open, and that all men's causes -were to be brought to the probation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>First there came sundry usual complaints of stouthreif -and oppression, for the country was yet very unsettled. A -woman cried for vengeance on Thomas of Drummurchie, -called the Wolf, for the carrying off of her daughter. But -as Drummurchie was already ten times attainted, it seemed -as though little would come of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Robert Harburgh strode forward and cried out, -'By your leave, Earl of Cassillis, the Wolf of Drummurchie -will carry off no more tender lambs, neither mell -with other men's wives any more. The dainty ladies of -Ayr need no more draw their purses to rescue him, neither -to provide him with costly gear. For he has gone to a -country where he shall be keeped bien and warm, beiking -forever foment the hottest fires of Satan, so lately his master -here on earth!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that he threw the arms and accoutrement of -the Wolf on the green with prodigious clatterment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But this,' said the Earl John, 'though greatly creditable -to our squire and of excellent omen for the peace of Carrick -from this day forth, gives not this poor woman again her -daughter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For he did not wish to assign any reward to Robert -Harburgh besides the lands which had already been given -him, perhaps desiring to retain so valiant a sworder near -to his own person and estate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I had been to the house of Drummurchie ere I settled -accounts with the Wolf himself,' replied Robert Harburgh, -in the same manner of exceeding quiet, 'and there have I -set all things in order, sending every man's daughter to -her father's house and every man's wife back to his keeping.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Retaining none for yourself!' cried Earl John, for -daffing's sake. For that was his idea of a jest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whatever my desires, I have married a wife that sees -to that—even as hath also my Lord Earl!' quoth Robert -Harburgh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so the laugh was turned against the Earl John, -because all knew how carefully the ancient Countess kept -the valleys about Cassillis and the Inch clear of buxom dames -and over-complacent maids. For, in his youth, Earl John had -the name of being both generally and most subtly amorous.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, strange to say, the jest thus broken at his expense, -put the Earl into a good key, for it was only the -outlay of money that he grudged. So he cried out, -'Robert Harburgh, your tongue can be as sharp as your -rapier. You have rid us of a great curse here in the -south, and there is muckle need in these parts of such a -sword and such a tongue as yours to keep the landward -oafs in civility. You shall have the lands of Drummurchie, -with ten men's fighting charges to hold them against all evil -folk till such time as the land be quiet.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Robert Harburgh bowed low to his lord and -retired. As he went I clapped him on the back, and said, -'Robert, I would that my long sword had done as muckle -for me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Steady on the hilt! Keep your point low, your tongue -silent, and it shall do more!' he answered over his shoulder -as he went by.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then was brought forward James Mure of Auchendrayne, -clad only in the suit of russet leather which he had -worn under the mail wherein he had been taken. He was -ever a hang-dog, ill-favoured oaf, and now looked sullenly -and silently upon the ground.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>His names and titles were first declared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who accuses this man, and of what?' cried Earl -John in loud tones.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And every man in the assembly moved a little, as -though he itched to be the accuser himself. But since there -was none that directly knew of our adventure, no one -stood forth save our Marjorie and Nell, till I myself -stepped forth with them, with Robert Harburgh and the -Dominie a little behind us.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now speak out,' whispered Harburgh of the Long -Sword to me, 'and let your nimble wit win you a wife.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I looked at Nell, and resolved that if she slipped -through my fingers, it should not be the fault of my lack -of address.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Who accuses this man?' cried the herald, taking the -word from his master, for the Lords of Carrick and -Cassillis were beyond the paltry fashion of pursuivants.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I do!' said Marjorie Kennedy, and all men set their -eyes on her. Neither, so long as the case lasted, did -they withdraw their eyes from her face. Then she opened -her mouth and spoke firmly and sternly her accusation.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I, Marjorie, daughter of the Tutor of Cassillis, in law -wife to this man, charge James Mure the younger of -Auchendrayne with the murder of my father, committed, -as all men know, upon the sandhills of Ayr. I also accuse -him of the murder of William Dalrymple, the lad who -carried the message to Auchendrayne concerning my father's -journey.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cousin,' said Earl John, 'you have doubtless abundant -proof to support these strange charges?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Marjorie Kennedy stood up among us, tall like a lily -flower, and she held her head erect.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hear you, John of Cassillis, and all men,' she said. 'I -will tell my tale. Of my own griefs I will say naught, for -in no realm do a woman's heart-breakings count for a -docken's value. It is enough that my father in the -simplicity of his heart gave me to this man, as an innocent -sacrifice is cast to a monster to appease his ravening. These -many months I dwelt in this man's castle. I have been -prisoned, starved, tortured—yet all the Mures in -Auchendrayne could neither prevail to break my resolve, nor yet -could they close my mouth concerning the things which -I saw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And now I, that am no more bound to this man than -I was when he took me out of my father's house of -Culzean—I, who have never looked upon him that is my wedded -husband save with eyes of hatred, never lain by his side, -stand here to denounce James Mure and his father for black, -cruel, repeated, defenceless MURDER!'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-murder-upon-the-beach"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLIV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MURDER UPON THE BEACH</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Marjorie Kennedy rang out the last words like a trumpet. -Not even the Earl's herald could have been heard further.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'All men hear my tale before they judge,' she went on. -'It was the morn before my father's death-day. From my -window in the house of Auchendrayne I had seen this man -and his father, with Thomas of Drummurchie and Walter of -Cloncaird, come and go all day with trappings and harness, -because they knew that the time was nigh at hand for my -father's riding to Edinburgh. It chanced that I was looking -down through the bars of my prison-house, for there was -little else to do in the house of Auchendrayne. It was -about eleven of the clock when I saw a young lad, dusty -from head to foot, venture a little way within the castle yett -and stand as one that looks about him, not knowing where -to turn. The court was void and silent, and the lad seemed -distressed. But while he thus stood James Mure and his -father came down the turnpike stair and stepped, talking -whisperingly together, out into the flagged court.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was John Mure the elder who first saw the lad and -called him. I saw the boy put a letter into his hand, the -which he opened carefully and read, passing it to his son, -who read also. Then James Mure stepped back and called -Thomas of Drummurchie and Cloncaird. They came both -of them, and the four bent their heads together over the -writing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then in a little John Mure closed the letter again as it -had been and gave it with certain charges to the boy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Saw you that letter or knew you aught of its contents?' -asked the Earl John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said Marjorie Kennedy, 'my window was too far -from, them, and they spoke low and with privity among -themselves.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then was my time.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My Lord Bailzie of Carrick,' said I, 'may it please you -it was I, Launcelot Kennedy of Kirrieoch, some time squire -to Sir Thomas of Culzean, who sent that letter. I sent it -from Maybole by the hands of William Dalrymple, the lad -whom the Lady Marjorie saw come within the castle yett -of Auchendrayne.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie stood forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And it was I, Robert Mure, schoolmaster in the town -of Maybole, who wrote that letter. I wrote it as Launcelot -Kennedy set me the words, for he is a man readier with -the sword than the pen, though he hath some small skill even -of that. But that day he was hot upon his game of golf -(which I hold to be but a foolish sport which rapidly obscures -the senses), so I, having, as is mine office, pen in hand, wrote -the letter for him. Also I sent one William Dalrymple, -called for a nickname Willie of the Gleg-foot, with it to -John Mure at his house of Auchendrayne. I bear witness -that after a space this boy came back, with the story that he -had found John Mure from home. But when we charged -it upon him that the letter had been thumbed and opened, -he grew confused and confessed that he had been compelled -to bring back that message by Mure himself, who had -broken the seal and given it again to him, even as the -Lady Marjorie has said.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what further proof do you offer of all this?' asked -the Earl, bending forward with eagerness to catch the -Dominie's words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Dominie put his hand into the inner pocket of his -coat and pulled out, among various pipe reeds and scraps of -writing, a letter which he kept carefully folded in a leathern -case by itself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There is the thing itself; may it please your lordship to -look upon it,' said he, calmly. And as soon as he had said -that, the Earl rose eagerly to see the famous missive which had -drought about all this turmoil. There was also a stir among -the folk that were gathered about, for all strained their -eyes as if they could see that which was going on, and read -the writing at that distance.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a most notable proof,' said the Earl, 'and so we -receive it. But can you not produce the lad William -Dalrymple?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That can we not,' said the Lady Marjorie; 'but I, -and I alone, can tell you all the story of his death—blacker -even than the other, because done to a young lad against -whom even these cruel murderers could allege no quarrel.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And again there could be heard the sound of men settling -down to deep attention throughout all the crowd at the diet -of Justiceaire. And they even crowded in a little past the -pennons, so that the heralds had to beat upon the ground -with the butts of their halbards, as though to bruise their -feet, before they could force them to give back. But James -Mure abode stupidlike and sullen before his judge, while his -accuser stood not three feet from him and told her story.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was just when the bruit of my father's death began to -go abroad against the Auchendraynes,' so Marjorie Kennedy -again took up her tale, 'and when John Mure the elder began -to fear that the matter of the letter would be made manifest, -that I again saw the little lad William Dalrymple. One -night I observed James Mure leading him rudely by the -neck into one of the barred cells which underlie the stables. -And to that place with his own hands he carried food and -water once every day thereafter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then came to visit John Mure one Sir Robert Montgomery, -the Laird of Skelmorlie. And with him they sent -the lad, on pretext to be a page at his house of Loch Ranza, -which he keeps for the King's hunting lodge on the Isle -of Arran. What befell there I cannot tell, but it was -not many weeks before William Dalrymple was back -again. And this time they sent him (as he told me -afterwards) to the Lowlands of Holland, there to serve in the -Lord Buccleuch's regiment, which, first as a trumpeter -and after as a soldier, he did. Nevertheless, being but -young, he wearied easily of the stress and chance of foreign -war, and so returned as before.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then when, in spite of all, the boy came back, and -it was told to John Mure that William Dalrymple was -again in his native town, he was neither to hold nor to -bind. He neither rested nor slept till he had again brought -the lad to his house, where he abode for some weeks, but -not so closely shut up as before, so that it was often my -chance to see him as he came and went about the court, -and even to converse with him. But in a little while he -vanished, and from that time I saw him no more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, the bitterness of my life and my desire to bring -to justice the murderers of my father caused me at last -to quit the house of Auchendrayne. For now I held, as -I thought, the strings which would draw mine enemies -to their doom. So upon a night I had it set to escape, -she that was my maid helping me, with one other that was -a body servant of Auchendrayne's and my tire-woman's lover.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'When I came out I found a pony waiting for me, and -it was my purpose to ride to the house of my kinsman, the -Earl of Cassillis. But, as I journeyed, what was my great -affrightment to come upon a company of two, who rode some -little way before me. I could easily have turned bridle-rein and -ridden another way, but for something which came into my -heart to make me follow on. For in a trice I recognised the -riders to be John Mure and his son, the father being wrapped -in his great cloak of grey, as is his custom. And by this -I knew him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So I followed them, but not very near. And because -my beast was a stable companion of their horses, he went -after of his own accord—till, by the first breaking touch or -morn we came to a waste place upon the edge of the sea, -where in a secret dell I dismounted and tied my pony to a -broom-bush which shot out over a sandy hollow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then, yet more secretly, I followed them across the -sandhills, and on the very edge on the links, where the -turf ceases underfoot and there is only sand, John Mure and -his son, this man before you, waited. For a while they -stood listening and talking low together, so that, though I -lay hidden behind a whin which overgrew a little turfy dell, I -could neither hear what was said, nor yet by reason of the -bareness of the sand, dared I to adventure nearer them. -'But they waited not long before one came down to -meet them over the turf, bringing a lad with him. Then, -immediately James Mure whistled a call, and the reply -came back in like manner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"You are late, James Bannatyne," I heard John Mure -the elder say; "what has taigled you?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"My sea cloth is not so well accustomed to night ploys -as your cloak of grey!" the man growled as he came along -sullenly enough.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then the three men of them walked a little apart, and -came in their circuit very near to the hollow where I lay. -While down on the shore the young lad stood and yawned, -with his hands in his pockets, like one that shivers and -wishes he were back in bed. Nor had he, I am confident, -even then any thought of evil.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But the talk of the three, as I heard it in snatches, was -black and bitter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The darkest counsel was that of the man who stands -here, for James Mure said only, "The dead are no -tale-pyets." And again, "We have had enough of this silly, -endless, hiding-and-seeking work. Let the earth hide him, -or the sea keep him—and be done with it!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now John Mure the elder, and the man whom they -called James Bannatyne, seemed at the least inclined to -discuss milder councils. Bannatyne was all for sending -the lad over to Ireland. And John Mure listened as though -he might be persuaded. Yet I knew his guile, for even -when he stood with his back to his son, I saw him lift up -his hand for a signal. And with that and no more, James -Mure rushed at the poor lad and overbore him to the -ground. And there upon the sands of the seashore, this -James Mure set his knee on the bairnie's breast, and with -bloody hands choked and worried him till there was no -life left in the lad. And his father also went and held the -lad when he fought, his white, reverend beard waggling in -the wind, till at last the bairn lay still. But James -Bannatyne stood by and clasped his hands, as the boy tossed and -struggled for his dear young life, for I think he was now -mainly sorry that he had brought the lad to his death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then I could stand the vileness no longer without -protest. So I, Marjorie Kennedy, even though I well -knew that they would certainly do the like to me, rose -from my hiding-place in the sand-hollow, and cried, -"Murderers, cease from your cruel work. God will come -and judge you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whereat John Mure came hastily to where I stood and -gripped me. "You have seen all," he said, "then you must -die. Let us see if God will come and help you!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So I defied them to do their worst with me, for madness -had come upon me at the sight of the monstrous cruelty to -an innocent bairn. And for the time I cared not what -should become of myself.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then I called to James Bannatyne requiring of him -to declare if he too were a murderer like the other fiends, -and to call upon him to protect the innocent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"We will settle all that in the one payment, mistress," -said John Mure to me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So by force I was compelled to abide with them, John -Mure the elder taking me cruelly by the arm, while he -sent the others to cast into the sea the dead body of the lad. -But even so oft as they threw him in, so often the waves -cast him out again upon the shore; and that though there -was a strong wind off the land, which blew the tops from -the waves and drave the sand in hissing streams into the sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So when for the third time the boy had been tumbled -upon the beach, John Mure bade Bannatyne bring his boat, -saying that they would cast the loon afloat out in the deeps -of the bay, so that the outerly wind might drive him to the -coast of Ireland. After that they would return betimes to -attend to other matters—by which I took him to mean that -they would do that for me, which I had so lately seen them do -for the young boy. And, indeed, I looked for no other mercy -at their brutal hands. So in a little space James Bannatyne -brought his boat, and with hard endeavour they launched -her, and compelled me to accompany them. There was a -strong wind from the east, and we were soon blown far -out into the wild sea. There they cast the body of the -lad overboard, and turned to make again for the shore. -But though they all took oars and laboured in rowing, -sames Bannatyne taking twain, they could make nothing -of it; but were rather worse than they had been before -they started.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So they began to be afraid, and I was right glad thereat, -for I looked that the doom of the twice guilty murderers -should speedily come. And so the pain of this trial and my -witnessing might have been spared.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now the Mures were the most fearful of the quick-risen -storm, being as it were inland bred. It was all that -James Bannatyne could get them to do to sit still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"Ye will wreck us all and send us red-hand before our -Maker, with the lad's body not cold in the water, and his -spirit there to meet us at the Judgment seat!" said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And with that John Mure rose in his place, and in -despite of the swaying and plunging of the ship, into which -the water came lashing, he cried out, "The Wraith, the -Wraith! It is following us—we are doomed!"'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And lo! when I looked, I saw that which chilled me -more than the whistling tempest. And if it feared me to -the soul, judge ye what it must have been to the guilty -men whose hands were yet red with the blood of the -innocent.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'For there, not thirty yards behind the boat, and -following strongly in our wake, as a stark swimmer might -do, now tumbling and leaping in the wash of the seas and -now lunging forward like a boat that is towed, was the -murdered boy himself. And thus he followed with a smile -on his face, or what looked like it in the uncertain light of -the morning.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So with that the men who rowed fell on their faces -and could not look any more, though the prodigy followed -us a good while. Only John Mure sat wrapped in his grey -cloak steering the boat, and I sat beside him. Little by -little we came to the land, but as it had been sideways, -having been driven by the wind to the other side of the -wide bay.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There we disembarked and the Mures kept me close -all that day in a place of strength on the seashore, till it was -night. They plied me to promise silence, for they believed -that I would keep my word if once I pledged it. They -offered me all that they had of honour or place in the -country. There was nothing, they said, that was not -within the power of their compassing. For since the -death of Gilbert of Bargany the King needed someone -in Carrick strong enough to count spears with the Earl of -Cassillis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But very steadfastly I withstood them, declaring that -I should certainly reveal all their murder and treachery, -both in the matter of the death of my lather, and in that -which I had seen done upon the sands to the young lad -William Dalrymple.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So finally seeing that they could prevail nothing, they -went out and kept silent watch by the door till the even. -Then as soon as it was dark they opened the lock and bade -me come forth. And this I did, knowing for a certainty -that my last hour was come. Yet my life had not been so -pleasant to me as to be very greatly precious. So I followed -them with no very ill will, nor yet greatly concerned. -Then on the craggy top they gave me, for the sake of -their house and good name (as they said), one more chance -to swear silence. This I would not accept, and they, being -startled with the approach of a boat upon the water which -steered towards our light, pinioned my arms, and thrusting -something into my mouth, forthwith threw me over the -cliff into the sea. And as to the mode of my rescuing -and standing here before the Earl my cousin, young -Launcelot Kennedy, my father's squire, can tell. And -also my sister and Robert Mure of Maybole.'</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-man-in-the-wide-breeches"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLV</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE MAN IN THE WIDE BREECHES</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>She ceased suddenly after this long account of her -adventuring, and the folk stood still in amazement, having -held their breath while she told of the killing of young -William Dalrymple and of the Wraith. And then there -arose a great cry from all the people,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Tear the murderer in pieces—kill him, kill him!' So -that Cassillis had to summon men-at-arms to keep back that -throng of furious folk, for the death of my master seemed -to them but a little thing and venial, compared to the killing -of a lad like William Dalrymple. And this was because -the people of Carrick had been used all their days to family -feuds and the expiation of blood by blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl was about to call me up to give an account of -my part in the affair, and I was preparing myself to make a -good and creditable appearance—a thing which I have all -my life studied to do—when there was heard a mighty -crying in the rear of the Bailzie Court. Men cried 'He comes! -He comes!' as though it had been some great one. And -everybody turned their heads, to the no small annoyance of -Earl John, who when on his Hill of Justice loved not that -men should look in any other direction than his own.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The ranks of the men-at-arms opened, and there strode -into the square of trial, which was guarded by the pennons -of blue and gold at the four corners—who but John Mure -of Auchendrayne himself, wearing the same cloak of grey -and broad plumed hat which had been his wont when he -went abroad upon dangerous quests! With him was another -shorter man, whose face was for the time being almost hidden, -for he had pulled the cloak he was wearing close about his -mouth. He walked with an odd jolt or roll in his gait, -and his breeches were exceedingly broad in the basement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was small wonder that we stood aghast at this sudden -compearing of the arch criminal, whose misdeeds throughout -all the countryside had filled the cup of his wickedness -to the brim.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Seize him!' cried the Earl, pointing directly at John -Mure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And his Bailzie's men took him roughly by the shoulders -and set him beside his son. Then it was to be noticed, as -the two stood together, that there was a great likeness -between father and son. The elder man possessed the same -features without any evident differences in outline. But so -informed was his face with intelligence and power, that -what was simply dull cruelty and loutishness in the one -became the guile of statecraft in the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Wherefore, my Lord Earl,' cried John Mure of Auchendrayne, -'is this violence done to me and to the heir of my -house? I demand to know concerning what we are called -in question and by whom?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the Earl of Cassillis answered him,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'John Mure of Auchendrayne, know then that you are -charged, along with this your son, with the bloody murder -of Sir Thomas Kennedy of Culzean, Tutor of Cassillis; and -also with the cruel death of William Dalrymple, the young -lad who brought you the message to your own house of -Auchendrayne, telling at what hour the Tutor should pass -the trysting place, where he was by you and yours foully -assaulted and slain.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And who declares these things?' cried Mure, boldly, -with a bearing more like that of an innocent man than -that of any criminal that ever I saw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl bade us who had accused them so justly to -stand forth. Then John Mure eyed us with a grave and -amused contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My son's false wife, whom sorrow has caused to dote -concerning her father's death—her night-raking rantipole -sister, and her paramour, a loutish, land-louping squire—the -Dominie of Maybole, a crippledick and piping merry-Andrew -that travelled with them—these are the accusers of John -Mure of Auchendrayne. They have seen, heard, noted -what others have been ignorant of! Nay, rather, is it not -clear that they have collogued together, conspiring to bear -false witness against me and mine—for the sake of the frantic -splenetic madness of her who is my son's fugitive wife, whose -wrongs exist only in her own imaginings.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You have forgotten me!' said Robert Harburgh, -quietly, stepping forward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I know you well,' said John Mure, 'and I would have -remembered you had you been worth remembering. You are -my Lord of Cassillis's squire and erstwhile a gay cock-sparrow -ruffler, now married to the Grieve's daughter at Culzean.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said Harburgh, 'and what of that? Can a -man not be all that and yet tell the truth?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That I leave to one who is greater, to judge,' said -John Mure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And I do judge, John Mure,' cried the Earl, rising -in his chair of state. 'I judge you to be a man rebel -and mansworn, a traitor and a man-slayer. For a score -of years ye have keeped all this realm of Carrick in a -turmoil, you and they that have partaken with you in -your evil deeds.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Loud, swelling words are but wind, my lord Earl of -Cassillis,' answered Mure of Auchendrayne, a dry smile of -contempt coming over his features.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now I will show thee, bold ill-doer,' said the Earl, -fiercely, 'whether I speak the words of a dotard or no. -Forward, men, take him up and bind him. Methinks we -have yet engines within the castle of Dunure that can -make him declare the rights of this murderous treason!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I rejoiced, not for the torture of our enemy, -but because at last the Earl saw fully with our eyes, and -would right us against the cruel oppressor of Marjorie -Kennedy, and for the murder of my gentle and courteous -master.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But ere the men could carry out the orders of the -Earl, the broad-breeched man who had accompanied -Auchendrayne, and who had all the while stood still and -watchful, dropped his plaid, which like a mask he had held -beneath his eyes. He was a middle-sized, fleshy man, -with no great dignity of face, and with a weak mouth that -dribbled perpetually at the side as if the tongue were too -large for it. He wore a slashed doublet very full at the -sleeves, baggy trunks, and a sword in a plain scabbard -hanging at his side. I saw nothing further very particular -about the man save the shambling inward bend of his knees. -But it was with dumb amaze that the Earl looked at -him, standing there arrested in the act of pointing with his -hand at John Mure. He stood with his jaw fallen, and -his eyes starting from his head.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The King! the King!' he muttered in astonishment, -looking about him like one distracted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, Baron Bailzie of Carrick, even your King,' said the -man in the wide trunk hosen, 'come to see how his sometime -High Treasurer of Scotland executes just judgment in -his own regality!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl came quickly to himself, and he and all the -people took off their hats. He stepped down and made his -obeisance to the King, bending humbly upon his knee. -Then he ushered the King to the throne whereon he himself -had been sitting, and took a lower seat beside Adam Boyd -of Penkill, his assessor in ordinary.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The King rose to speak.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My Lord Earl and gentlemen of Carrick,' he said, -with dignity enough, but with a thick and rolling -accent as if his tongue had been indeed too big, 'I know -this case to the bottom. I am fully persuaded of the -innocence of our trusty councillor, John Mure of Auchendrayne—who -is besides of the fraternity of learned men, and -one that hath a history of this realm in script ready for the -printers, wherein he does full justice both to myself and to -my noble predecessors. He hath, as I should nominate it, -an exactness of expression and a perspicuity of argument -that have never been matched in the land. I propose shortly -to make him my historiographer royal. Also I, the King, -do know him to be a man well affected to the right ecclesiastical -ruling of this kingdom, and minded to help me with -the due ordering of it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The King puffed and blew after his speech, and we and -all that were there stood silent, for to most of us he might -as well have spoken in the Hebrew of which he boasted -himself so great a master. Then he went on:—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have left my Lord Mar and my retinue some way in -the rear. For we go to hunt the deer in whatever forest -the goodwill of our loyal subjects may put at our disposal.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are right welcome, my liege,' said the Earl John, -starting up and standing bareheaded, 'to my hunting lodges -and retinue, both in the Forest of Buchan and also at my -house of Cassillis.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The King bent towards him royally, for James the Sixth -had manners when he liked to show them—which, in truth, -was not always.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I thank you, trusty councillor,' said he; 'it is nobly and -generously done—qualities which also marked your all-too-brief -tenure of the office of High Treasurer of Scotland. -But for the judging of this our worthy subject, I propose to -take that upon myself, being wholly persuaded of his -innocence. And as for those that have falsely accused him, let -the men underlie my will in the prison most convenient, and -the women be warded meantime in their own house and -castle, till I cause to be known my whole pleasure in the -matter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We stood aghast, and knew not what to say, so completely -had Auchendrayne turned our flank with the King. -Not a word had we found to allege when the officers of the -court, to whom the charge was given, came to put the iron -rings on our wrists and march us off, even as we had hoped -and expected to see Auchendrayne and his son taken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And as the Dominie and I were haled away we could see -Auchendrayne bending suavely over the King's high seat, -and His Majesty inclining to him and talking privately -back and forth, with many becks and uncouth graces such -as he had used in his address to the Earl and his people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is the very devil himself,' said the Dominie, -meaning Auchendrayne and not the King; 'he hath not halted -to cozen the greatest man in this realm with his lying -tongue!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I said nothing, for what had I to say? I had -seen lands, honours, love, and consideration vanish at a -stroke.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-judgment-of-god"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLVI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE JUDGMENT OF GOD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The court of the Baron Bailzie of Carrick broke up in -confusion. It had been arranged that we should ride all -together to the north, even to Culzean, where His Majesty -might have due entertainment provided for him nearer than -at my lord's castle of Cassillis. Also it was upon this -shoreside road that he had left the Earl of Mar and the favourite -attendants with whom James the Sixth ordinarily sallied -forth to the hunting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Those of the Auchendrayne and Bargany party who -hated us, clamoured that the Dominie and I should be -left warded in the lock-fast place of Girvan, where our -enemies would soon have ta'en their will of us. But Robert -Harburgh moved my lord, who went about dour and heartsick -for the failure of his plans in the matter of the Mures, -to have us brought on, with purpose to lodge us within the -ancient strengths of Dunure.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So that as I rode hand-tied at the tail of the King's -retinue, I was yet near enough to have sight of Marjorie -and Nell who rode before us. And this was some comfort -to my heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The way lay for miles along the seashore, which is -here sandy, with a broad belt of fine hard beach whereon -the horses went daintily and well, while at our left elbows -the sea murmured.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The King and John Mure rode first, and His Majesty -constantly broke into loud mirth at some witty saying of -his companion's. Level with them, but riding moodily apart, -was the Earl, while James Mure the younger rode alone by -himself behind these three.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I groaned within me for the exaltation of our enemy -and at the shortsightedness of anointed kings.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Is there a God in heaven,' I cried aloud, 'thus to make -no sign, while the devil is driving all things headlong to -destruction according to his own devising?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a God in heaven.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For, quick as an echo that answers from the wood, -there before us upon the sands, just where the levels had -been overflowed at the last tide, lay a thing which halted -the advancing cavalcade as suddenly as an army with banners. -The men crowded about, and, having in the excitement -forgotten us their charges, we also were permitted to look. -And this is what we saw.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There upon the ribbed sea sand lay the dead body of the -boy William Dalrymple. I knew him at a glance, for all -that so much had come and gone since that day when I -played at the golf game upon the green of Maybole. He -lay with his arms stretched away from his sides, his face -turned over, and one cheek dented deeply into the sand. It -was a pitiful sight. Yet the lad was not greatly -altered—wind-tossed and wave-borne as he had been, and now -brought to cross the path of the unjust at the very nick of -time, by the manifest judgment and providence of God.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What means this?' said the King. 'Some poor -drowned sailor boy. Let us avoid!' For of all things -he loved not gruesome sights nor the colour of blood. But -James Mure suddenly cried aloud at the vision, as if he -had been stricken with pain. And as he did so, his father -looked at him as though he would have slain him, so -devilish was his glance of hate and contempt.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But a woman who had come running hot-foot after -the party, now rushed to the front. She gave a loud -scream, ear-piercing and frantic, when she saw the tossed -little body lying all abroad upon the sand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My Willie, my ain son Willie!' she cried. For it was -Meg Dalrymple. All her ignorant rudeness seemed to fade -away in the presence of death, and as she lifted the poor -mishandled head that had been her son's, each of us felt that -she grew akin to our own mothers, widowed and bereaved. -For I think that which touches us most in the grief of a -widow, is not our feeling for a particular woman, but our -obligation to the mother of all flesh.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when Meg Dalrymple lifted her son's head, it might -have been a mourning queen with a dead kingling upon her -knee.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My ain, my ain lad!' she cried. 'See, lammie, but I -loved ye. Ye were the widow's ae son. Fleeter-footed than -the mountain roe, mair gleg than the falcon that sits yonder -on the King's wrist, ye were the hope o' thy mither's life. -And they hae slain ye, killed my bonny wean, that never -did harm to nae man—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She undid a kerchief from about the white, swollen neck -of her son.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kens ony man that image and superscription?' said she, -pointing to an embroidered crest upon it. John Mure -strode forward hastily. He had grown as pale as death.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Give it me. I will pass it to His Majesty,' he said, -holding out his hand for it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the woman leaped up fiercely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Na,' she said; 'the butcher kens his knife; but he -would only hide it in the day of trial. I will give it to my -ain well-kenned lord.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she put the napkin into the hands of the Earl of -Cassillis, who looked at it with the most minute attention.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This kerchief,' said the Earl, gravely, 'has the crest and -motto of John Mure of Auchendrayne.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The King looked staggered and bewildered.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let all dismount till we try further of this thing,' -he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But John Mure would have had him go on, saying that -it was yet more of the plot. But the King would not now -hearken to him; for he was an obstinate man, and oftentime -he would listen to no reason, though his ear was ever open -enough to flattery. Besides, he thought himself to be the -wisest man in all the islands and kingdoms of the -world—wiser, even, than Solomon the son of David.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So His Majesty commanded his inclination, and went -up to the body. There was also a rope around the neck -with a long end, which was embedded in the sand. With -his own hand the King drew this out.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He held it up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kens any man this length of rope?' he asked, looking -about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Now, one strand of sea-cordage is like another as two -peas; but this was our Solomon's way of judging—to find -out the insignificant, and then pretend that it told him a -mighty deal.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet it so happened that there was a man there from out -of the shoreside of Girvan. He was a coastwise sailor, and -he took the rope in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'This rope,' he said, turning it about every way, 'is -Irish made, and has been used to tie bundles of neat hides.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And who,' again asked the King—shrewdly, as I do -admit, 'who upon this coast trades with Ireland in the -commodity of neat hides?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'There are but myself and James Bannatyne of Chapeldonnan,' -replied the man, honestly and promptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And this is not your rope?' said the King.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' said the man, 'I would not buy a pennyworth of -Irish hemp so long as I could twine the hemp of Scotland—no, -not even to hang an Irishman would I do it. This is -James Bannatyne's rope!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then said the King, 'Bring hither James of Chapeldonnan!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And they brought him. He stood forth, much feared -indeed, but taking the matter dourly, like the burly ruffian -he was. Nevertheless when put to the question he denied -the rope, and that in spite of all threats of torture. Yet I -could see that the King was greatly shaken in his opinion, -and knew not what to think. For when John Mure -drew near to touch his arm and as before say somewhat in -his private ear, the King drew hastily away and looked at -Auchendrayne's hand as though there had been pollution -upon it. So I knew that his opinion was wavering. Also -the poor body in the mother's arms daunted him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Suddenly he clapped his hands together and became -exceedingly joyous and alert.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have it,' he cried, 'the ordeal of touch. It is God's -ordinary and manifest way of vindicating His justice. Here -is the dead body of the slain. Here are all the accused and -the accusers. Let it be equally done. Let all touch the -body, for the revealing of the secrets of the hearts of -wicked men.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then John Mure laughed and scoffed, saying that it -was but a freit, a foolish opinion, an old wives' fable.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But for all his quirksome guile he had gotten this time -very mightily on the wrong side of the King. For His -Majesty was just mad with belief in such things as omens -and miracles of God's providence. So the King shook him -off and said, 'It is my royal will, that all who are tainted -with the matter shall immediately touch or be held guilty.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the saying comforted King James, being, as it were, -easily pleased with his own words and plaiks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they brought us forward from among the crowd bound -as we were, and first of all I touched fearlessly the poor dead -body of the lad. Yet it was with some strange feeling, -though I knew well that I was wholly innocent. But yet -I could not forget that something untoward might happen, -and then good-bye to this fair world and all the pleasant stir -of life within it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then after me the Dominie touched—even Marjorie -and Nell doing it with set faces and strange eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was now the turns of the real murderers, and my -heart beat little and fast to see what should happen.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Let Auchendrayne the younger touch first, being the -more directly accused!' cried the King.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But James Mure seemed to flame out suddenly distract, like -a madman being taken to Bethlem. He cried out, 'No, no, -I will not touch. I declare that I will not go near him!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when John Mure strove to persuade him to it, he -struck at him fiercely with his open hand, leaving the stead -of his fingers dead white upon his father's cheek. And -when they took his arm and would have forced him to it, he -threw himself down headlong in the sand, foaming and crying, -'I will not touch for blood! I will not touch for blood!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in spite of his struggling they carried him to where -the body lay. And, all men standing back, they thrust his -bare hand sharply upon the neck where the rope had been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, it is true as Scripture, I that write declare (though -I cannot explain) it, out from the open mouth of the lad -there sprang a gout of black and oozy blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereat a great cry went up and James Mure fell -forward oh the sand as one suddenly stricken dead. All -crowded forward to see, crying with one voice, 'The -Judgment of God! The Judgment of God!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I shouted too, for I had seen the vindication of justice -upon the murderer. The blood of Abel had cried out of -the waste sea sand. The mark of God was on the guilty.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then suddenly in the midst of the push I heard a stirring -and a shouting.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Stop him! stop him!' they cried.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I looked about, and lo! there, sitting erect upon his -horse and riding like fire among heather, was John Mure. -He had stolen away while all eyes were on the marvel. -He had passed unregarded through the press, and now he -rode for his life southward along the shore.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I gave one mighty twist to the manacles on my wrists, -and whether those that set them had been kindly, being of -my own name and clan, or whether the gyves were weak, -I cannot tell. At all events, my hands were free, and so, -with never a weapon in my possession, I leaped on a -horse—the same, indeed, which the King had been riding—and -set it to the gallop after the man whose death was my life.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was the maddest, foolishest venture, for doubtless my -enemy was well armed. But I seemed to see my love, and all -the endowment of grace and favour I was to receive with -her, vanishing away with every stride of John Mure's horse. -Besides, there was a King and an Earl looking on; so upon -the King's horse I settled down to a long chase.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was already far forward ere behind me I heard the -clatter of mounting men, the crying to restive horses to -stand still, and the other accompaniments of a cavalcade -leaping hastily into the saddle. But when I looked at John -Mure upon his fleet steed, and saw that I upon the King's -horse but scarcely held mine own, I knew that the stopping -of the murderer must be work of mine, if it were to be done -at all. So I resolved to chance it, in spite of whatever -armoury of weapons he might carry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But first I cleared my feet of the great stirrups which -the King used, so that if it came to the bitter pinch, and I -was stricken with a bullet or pierced with steel, I should not -be dragged helpless along the ground with my foot in the -iron, as once or twice I had seen happen in battle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And that, though an easily memorable, is, I can bear -witness, not a bonny sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My charger stretched away as though he had been a -beagle running conies of the down into their holes. But -John Mure's horse went every whit as fast. I saw well -that he made for the deep, trackless spaces of Killochan -wood. The oak trees that grew along its edge stretched -out their arms to hide him; the birken shaw waved all its -green boughs with a promise of security. I shortened my -grip upon the stout golden-crowned staff which the King -carried at the pommel of his saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet as John Mure drave madly towards the wood, and -sometimes looked over his shoulder to see how I came on, -I was overjoyed to notice a wide ditch before him which he -must needs overleap—and at that business, if at no other, I -thought to beat him, being slim and of half his weight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I kept my horse to the right upon better ground, -though it took me a little out of the straight course for the -wood. His horse at the first refused the leap, and I counted -upon him as mine. But I counted too soon, for he went -down the bankside a short way to an easier place, where -there was a landward man's bridge of trees and sods. Here he -easily walked his horse across, and, having mounted the bank, -he waved his hand at me and set off again toward the wood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now while he had an uneven country to overpass I -had only the green fields, rich in old pasture and undulating -like the waves of an oily tide when the sea is deep, and -there is no break of the water. He was at the very edge -of the wood before I came upon his flank. Then I gave a -loud shout as I set my horse to his speed and circled about to -head him off. But John Mure, though an old man, only -settled himself firmer in his saddle, and with his sword in -his hand rode soldierly and straight at the wood, as though I -had not been in front of him at all.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was wisely enough done, for his heavier beast took -mine upon the shoulder and almost rolled me in the dust. -He came upon me, not front to front as a rider meets his -foe in the lists, but, as it were stem to side, like two boats -that meet upon converging tacks.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet I managed to avoid him, being light and supple, -though he leaned far over and struck savagely at me as he -passed. Again at the third shock he had almost overridden -me and made me die the death. But I had not practised -horsemanship and the art of fighting in the saddle so -long for nothing. Indeed, on all the seaboard of Ayr -there was no one that could compare with me in these -things. Therefore, it was easy for me, by dint of my quickness -and skill, to swerve off to the right and receive the sword -stroke in my cloak, which I carried twisted about my left arm.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then keeping still between the wood and John Mure, I -met him this time face to face, with my eyes watching the -direction of his eye and the crook of his elbow, that I might -know where he meant to strike. For a good sworder knows -the enemy's intent, and his blade meets it long ere thought -can pass into action.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it was no second-sight which told me that he meant -to slash me across the thigh when he came a-nigh me. I -knew it or ever his blade was raised. So that when he struck -I was ready for him and measured his sword, proving my -distance as it had been upon parade. And as the blade whistled -by me, I judged that it was my turn, and struck him with -all the force I could muster a crashing blow upon the face -with the heavy butt of the King's stave, which stunned and -unsettled him so that he pitched forward upon his horse, yet -not so as to lose his seat.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, owing to the swing of my arm, the stroke -fell also partly upon his horse's back, which affrighted the beast -and set him harder than ever to the running. So that I was -passed ere I knew it, and the wood was won. But I was -not thirty yards behind him, and looked to make the capture -ere we reached the further side. And but for a foul trick I -should have done it. It so happens that there is a little hill -in the woods of Killochan, and I, seeing that John Mure was -riding about one side, took round the other, thinking that -I had the shorter line of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he, so soon as he saw me make round the corner, -turned his horse into its own hoof-marks and sped away back -again—as it had been to meet them that pursued, but at the -same time bearing enough to the south to clear them easily. -So that when I came round the hill I saw no quarry, and only -heard the boughs crashing in his wake.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Nevertheless, without the loss of a moment, I took the -line of his retreat (as I thought), yet not so correctly but -that when I issued forth from the wood I saw him nigh half -a mile in front. Again he waved a contumelious hand -which made me so fiercely angry that I tightened my -waist-belt, and vowed to go no more to sunny Culzean if I -took not back the head and hands of John Mure at my -saddlebow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, with set and determined brow, I rode ever forward. -It was the cast of the die for me, for Nell herself, our life -together, and our green pastures and lavender-scented napery -cupboards were all to come out of the catching of this enemy -of our house. It is small wonder therefore that I was -passing keen upon the matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, in spite of my endeavours, I gained but little. And -it was already greying to the twilight when I came to a place -by the seashore, waste and solitary, where there were but few -houses about. I had seen John Mure ride in thitherwards. -And so I followed him full tilt, reckless of danger, being -weary-heart with the ill-fortune of my riding and quest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as I entered the narrows of the pass, a stone flew -from an ambuscade. I felt a hot, stunning blow upon the -head, and with the pain I remember laying hold of my horse's -mane and gripping tight with the hand on which a broken -manacle still jangled. Something warm flowed over my brow, -and suddenly I saw everything red, as though I had been -looking through the stained glass of some ancient kirk—red -flowers, red grass, red sand, and red sea.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>That was all I saw, and I do not remember even falling -to the ground.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-place-of-the-legion-of-devils"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLVII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE PLACE OF THE LEGION OF DEVILS</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When I woke it was exceedingly dark, but a darkness with -shooting lights and hideous sounds. At the first start I -thought that I was dead and in the place of torment. And -when I grew a little more awake, I wished to God that I -had been. For all about were swart naked men and -harpy-clawed women dancing round me, while on a cask or -keg at my head sat John Mure himself, wrapped in his cloak -and regarding me with gloating, baleful, bloodshot eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I knew that I was lost indeed. For by the -flickering light of a dying fire of driftwood I could see that I -was again in the cave of Sawny Bean, in the same wide hall -with the strange narrow hams a-swing on the roof, the -tubs of salt meat festering under the eaves, and the wild -savage crew dancing about me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>What wonder that my heart fainted within me to be -thus left alone in that den of hideous things, and especially -to think of the free birds going to their beds on the cliffs -above me and the fishing solan geese circling and -balancing home to the lonely rock of Ailsa.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ha, Sir Launcelot Kennedy,' said a mocking voice, as -the deafening turmoil quieted a little, 'you are near your -honours now—that is, if there be such bauble dignities -either in heaven or hell. The Treasure of Kelwood in -hand, John Mure's life out of hand—and there on the -shelf (as it were) are your broad acres and your bonny -lady!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was silent, for I knew that nothing could avail me -now. It was useless to waste words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But ere all that comes to pass,' he went on, 'there -are sundry little formalities to be gone through.—Oh, we -are right dainty folk here in Sawny Bean's mansion. -You shall be kept warm and cherished tenderly. There -are here twenty sonsier queans than the one whose heart -you desire. Warmly shall they welcome, sweetly shall -they cherish handsome Sir Launcelot. Their embracements -shall sting you more than all sweethearting raptures.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Again he pauses to observe the effect of his words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You that so lately held me in chase, like a steer that -has escaped from the shambles. Now you yourself are in -the thills. You that have crossed me a thousand times -in my plans since that frore night in Sir Thomas Nesbitt's -yard in Maybole, you shall now be crossed in a new fashion. -You that wagged tongue so merrily at another's expense, -you shall see your tongue wag upon the redhot brander -to an unkenned tune.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You that have ridden so fast and so far, you shall ride -your last ride—ride slowly, very slowly,' cried the fiend in -my ear, 'for I shall hoard every drop of your blood as -John of Cassillis hoards his gold rose nobles. I shall -husband every minute of your life, as though they were -the hours of young bridal content.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye have bruised my old face indeed with your oaken -staff, but I will cherish yours, that is youthful and -blooming. Tenderly shall we take off the coverture of hide, -the tegument of beauty. Sawny Bean has famous skill -in such surgery. Gently will we lay you down in the -swarming nest of the patient ant. We have read how -Scripture bids the sluggard go to the ant, for if that makes -him not lively, nothing will. I have ofttimes commented -on the passage at family worship. And I must see that -the young and headstrong, like you, my Lord Launcelot, -give heed to that which is commanded.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But in spite of all his terrible threatenings, I bode still and -answered him never a word. They laid logs of driftwood -upon the fire, till the whole inside of the cave grew bright -and clear; and all the monstrous deformity of the women -and the cruel hideousness of the men were made apparent -as in broad daylight. Some of them were painted and stained -like demons, and danced and leaped through the fire like -them, too. For such monsters have not been heard of, -much less seen, in the history of any country as were -Sawny Bean and his crew in the cave upon the seashore -of Bennanbrack.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bring me a knife,' cried John Mure from where he sat, -for he appeared like a chief devil among a company of -gibbering lubber fiends. He had still his grey cloak about -him. His plumed hat was upon his head, and he looked, -save for the eyes of him in which the fires of hell burned, a -civil, respectable, well-put-on man of means and substance. -As, indeed, save for his evil heart he might have been, for -he came of as good a family as the Earl of Cassillis, or, as -it might be, as I myself, Launcelot Kennedy of Kirrieoch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So when Auchendrayne asked for a knife, Sawny Bean -himself, the ruffian kemper, low-browed, buck-toothed, and -inhuman, brought it to him with a grin. He made as if he -would have set it in me to the hilt. But John Mure stayed -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Bide,' he said, 'not so fast. There is long and sweet -pleasuring to come before that—such slow, relishing delight, -such covetous mouseplay of the brindled cat, such luxurious -tiger-licking of the delicate skin till it be raw, such -well-conceited dainty torments as when one would bite his love -and be glad of it. He shall taste them all, this frolic squire -of errant-dames, this gamesome player upon pipes, this -curious handler of quaint love tunes. Ere we pluck the -red rose of his life, he shall sate himself with new delicious -experience—rarer than the handling of many maidens' tresses.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was moved to speak to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I ask not mercy,' said I, 'for I own that I would have -killed you if I could. But as you are a valiant man, give -me a sword and let me make a stand for it against you all, -that as I have lived so I may also die fighting.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But he mocked me, hurrying on in his heady turmoil of words.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'"If I be a man," you say—who said that I was a man? -Do I act as other men? Is my knowledge like that of -other men? Do I company with other men? Call you -that a man?' (He pointed to Sawny Bean, who for -wantonness sat on an upturned tub, striking with a keen-edged -knife at the legs of all that came by for mere delight -of blood, storming at them meantime with horrid imprecations -to approach nearer and be flicked.) 'Or call you these -men?' (He showed me some of the younger cannibal race -gnawing like kennelled dogs at horrid bones.) 'Nay, my -dainty wanton, you shall not enter Hell through the brave -brattle of warring blades, nor yet handling your rapier like -a morris-dancer. But as the blood drains to the white from -the stricken calf, so shall they whiten your flesh for the tooth, -and so reluctantly shall your life drip from you drop by drop.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I declare that this scornful fiend telling me of -tortures in choice words made me scunner more than the -prick of the knife. For the abhorred invention quickened -the imagination and set the nerves agate.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So that I was honestly glad when he took knife in -hand—a shoemaker's curved blade with a keen cutting edge.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Strip him naked!' he cried. And very cheerfully so they -did, smiting me the meantime with the broad of their hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then John Mure leaned over me delicately, and made -as though he would have traced with his knife the jointing -of my limbs, saying, 'Thus and thus shall the she-tribe -dismember your body when the torture of the ant's nest is -ended.' And again 'Here is toothsome eating, Sawny -Bean, thou chief lover of dainty vivers.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, as the evil man went on with his pitiless jestings, -his grey cloak began to waver before me, his face to glow -like fire, and I fainted or dwamed away till the sharp knife -pricked me into consciousness again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet Auchendrayne overdid his threatening, for the too -sharp relish of the words issued in tranced dulness ere the -matter came to action. And of torture there was none -that I can now remember or bear the mark of—save only -the slight scores of the knife which he made when he showed -me where they would joint and haggle my body.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Indeed, I mind no more till I came to myself, lying on -my back, with the cave all empty save for John Mure—who -sat, as before, with his hand to his ear listening.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But there sounded a great and furious uproar down by -the cave mouth, the deep baying of bloodhounds, the fierce -cry of many voices striving for mastery, and above all the -shrieks of the smitten.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Surely, I thought, there is a battle fierce and fell at the -cave's mouth. John Mure sat and listened for a long space, -and presently he looked over at me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I will even make sure of him, come what may,' he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that he took the knife and came nearer to -smite me in the breast, and I lay as one dead already, -waiting for the stroke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But even in that moment as I held my breath a ravening -hound darted within the cave, overleaped the embers of -the fire, and pinned the grey-haired murderer to the earth by -the throat. He struck out desperately, but the dog held -him fast. Another and another came in, till, as it seemed, -he was in danger of being torn to pieces of dogs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But me they minded not at all, for (as I say) I lay as -one dead.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And this is the story of the chase as Nell told it to me -when all was over.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As they of the King's company looked from the shore -towards the south, there in the distance was John Mure on -his horse disappearing into the wood, and I (as it seemed) -at his very heels. Both of us were leaning far forward, -like men that run a race. And because she knew that I -carried no equipment with me, Nell leaped upon a horse -with a sword laid before her crosswise on the saddle.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereupon I turned to Nell and called her the bravest -maid in broad Scotland, with other names as I could mind -them. But she set her head aside, and would content me -nothing (though I was minded for kindness), saying only, -'If you do not desire to hear the tale, then I am saved the -fash of telling it. 'Tis no time for fooling,' said she, 'when -I am speaking of the saving of your life.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nell,' said I (for I was nettled at her indifference), -'thou art an unseasoned lass, skilless in love's mysteries.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I want none of Kate Allison's love-skilling at second -hand,' said Nell, harking back like a pretty shrew on her -former taunts. 'Since ye are so wise, unriddle me the -manner of your saving from the cave of Sawny Bean, and -I am content to yield me to your teaching in the mysteries.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet even with this fair promise I could not, but desired -her instead to continue her tale-telling.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well,' said she, 'Robert Harburgh it was who, next -after me, took horse—and not far behind either. For he had -but to disentangle the bridle from his arm, while I had to -beguile another to lend me his horse.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So, in a little, we were all after you, and we took the -wood in the very place you entered. But naught could we -find save the trail of you all confused among the trees. -Then what a chasing hither and thither there followed. -Even the King searched for you like any common man, and -puffed and blew upon his purple cheeks like the Dominie -on his pipes. And he that had been our companion, this -same Dominie, went about everywhere, seeking and crying -each time that he came near to me, "Reckless loon, reckless -loon, well he deserves to be unbreeched and soundly paid for -this hardiness."</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then we utterly lost you, and I believe they would -have given up the search. But I minded me of the dogs -that James of Chapeldonnan keeps for his own purposes, -which on my way to Ailsa I had seen his wife feed. So I -told the Earl John of them, and he had James Bannatyne -brought, and bade him bring them to set on the trail, promising -him his life if the matter were brought to a good issue.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And so Robert Harburgh and a few swords were sent -to Chapeldonnan with James Bannatyne—with his life upon -it if he played them false, and Robert Harburgh's sword near -his ribs each time that he faltered or failed to remember. And -the good wife, seeing her man in such deadly case, came -back herself to plead with the King for him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So the Chapeldonnan pack was laid on the trail, and -fine well-hungered bloodhounds they were. But so soon as -I heard the first deep bay, when, with noses on the ground, -they took the line of the shore, it went to my heart that -since you were the last to enter the wood the dogs would -first seize you. So I cried a word to Robert Harburgh, and -we two that loved you spurred horses and sped on well-nigh -level with the dogs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And through all the windings and wimplings of your path -we followed till we came to the shore, where, together with -the King's oaken staff which had been in your hand, we -found the place all trampled with naked feet and stains of -blood. So we traced you across the shore grass to the sand -and over the sand into the sea, with a company of bare feet -and many stains of blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then for a moment I knew not what to think. But -Marjorie, my sister, cried out, "It is the vile wretches of -Sawny Bean's band who have taken him to the Cave of -Death!"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then I remembered that the entrance to the cavern -was among the rocks, and yet because of the gladness that -was in our hearts when we issued forth, I had taken no -very great pains to mind the exact place. Nor was the -Dominie aught the wiser. For he had been wholly intent on -blowing upon his pipes. But Marjorie minded better than any -of us the cleave in the rocks, and showed us to a nearness -where the cave entrance was. But the tide had flowed in, -and we had perforce to wait and calm our impatience as best -we might till it went back again, ere we could follow into -the cave mouth. But by this time it was dark, so that the -men-at-arms had to find rosin torches and set them alight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thus with the flambeaux blazing and the smoke wavering -red overhead we took our way along the wet edge of the -sea. But the tide had washed away all traces of blood and feet. -Up and down the coast we wandered trying every covert. -And yet for our lives we could not hit upon the right cave's -entrance. The dogs ran yelping and nosing here and there, -but for long nothing came of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then Earl John and the King himself threatened -James Bannatyne to reveal the place. But he denied that -he had any knowledge of the cave. And whether he spoke -truth or no I cannot say. But his wife went to the King -and holding his bridle rein, she said, "Well do I ken, your -Majesty, that my man's life is forfeit, but he is my husband. -And at least, so far as it concerns him and me, betwixt -barn-door and bed-stock I can rule him as a wife should. -Gin I persuade him to lead you to the spot, will ye on your -word, give me my ain man's life?"</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So the King promised, though Earl John hung a little -on the form of the words. Then went the goodwife of -Chapeldonnan to her husband. And what she said to him -I know not, for they spake privily and apart. But though -at first he shook his head and denied, as I could see, that he -had any knowledge of the Cave of Death, yet in a little -while he took some other thought and ran forward to grip -one of the dogs.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then went James Bannatyne on ahead, with all of us -hotfoot after him, with the torches and the swords.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And you also, Nell,' said I,' 'were you lurking with -the men-at-arms, and which had you, a sword or a torch?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I had both,' said Nell Kennedy, shortly. And went -on with her tale as if she had been speaking of milking-stools.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'James Bannatyne took the dog into all the wide cave -mouths and made him smell the walls and floor above the -tide mark, talking to the brute all the time and encouraging -him. But for a long time it was still in vain.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'At last the other dog which had been left to itself, bayed -out suddenly from among the rocks, where it had found a -dark and dismal archway with a wide pool of water in it, -which we had passed time and again without suspicion. -And at the entrance to this place we found the second -hound, with tail erected, baying up the cave mouth from -the edge of the pool.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then so soon as James Bannatyne brought in his well-taught -dog, it began to smell hither and thither with erected -ears and bristling hair. Presently it swam away into the -darkness. And because the men hesitated to go after the -beast, I took the water to show them the way.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Hearing which, I had made my acknowledgments.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Nell said, 'No, no; hear my tale first.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then with me there came Robert Harburgh, and after -him the Earl and all his company with their torches. The -pool proved shallow, and after many turns and windings we -came to a wide place—indeed, to the same beach with sand -and dripping fingers of stone where we had first found -ourselves. And here also we passed the remains of our boat, for -it was to this point that we had rowed that night when we -took refuge in the lion's den. The savages had broken most -of it up for firewood, yet enough remained so that I knew -it again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But ere the men-at-arms had time to gather behind us, -a host of wild creatures armed with stones, knives, and -sheath-whittles burst upon us, yelling like demons of the pit. -Women also there were, some half clad and some wholly -without cleading. And then and there was a fight such as -you, Launce, love to tell about, but I have no skill in. For -the men-at-arms shot, and we that had but swords struck, -while the wild folk shouted and the savage women bit and -tore with their nails till the cavern was full of confused noise -and the red reek of burning torches. But ever as the slain -rolled among our feet they gripped to pull us down, so that -in the intervals of his fighting Robert Harburgh went -hither and thither "making siccar," as he said, with a coup de -grace for each poor clawing wretch.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And in the narrow doorway through which you found -the way, stood the chief himself, with his eyes fiery-red, and -his hair about his face. He gripped a mighty axe in his -hand, and with it he stood ready to cleave all that came -against him. Even the men hesitated at his fearsome aspect. -And it was small wonder. But I knew that there was no -other way to the innermost cave, so I cried to them to -overpass the rabble and drive forward at all hazards.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'How it came about I know not, but a moment after I -found myself opposite to Sawny Bean himself and engaging -him with your sword—just for all the world as if it had been -in the armoire room of Culzean on a rainy day, and you -again teaching me the fence of blade against Lochaber axe. -But though I had not wholly forgotten my skill, doubtless -the giant had soon made an end of me, for he struck fiercely -every way. But sudden as the heathcat springs on the hill, -the little Dominie leaped upon him and drove his sword into -his heart. So that Sawny Bean fell with Dominie Mure upon -his breast. Then because he was not able to pull out his -sword again, being too close, the Dominie gripped his dagger -and struck again and again, panting. And between each -blow he cried out the name of a lass—"Mary Torrance! -Mary Torrance!" he said.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then it was that the hounds over-leaped the two of -them struggling there in the arch and sprang on, and after -them came Robert Harburgh and I. We two first entered -the murky place of death. The dogs were mouthing and -gripping the Grey Man. But you lay naked upon the sand -as it had been dead.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was the matter of Nell's tale, and I will now in -turn take up mine own part in it, from the time at which -the dogs gripped my remorseless enemy, and as it had been, -the life went out from me.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-finding-of-the-treasure-of-kelwood"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLVI1I</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE FINDING OF THE TREASURE OF KELWOOD</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>When I came to myself the cave was filled with armed -men and the confused clamour of voices. The torches -spluttered and reeked, and I could feel that my naked body -was covered with a woman's cloak wrapped well about me. -Someone was binding up my head; and as she examined -to see if all had been rightly done, I saw that it was Nell -Kennedy. So I called her softly by her name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she bade me not try to rise; and looked again to -my head to see that it had no serious wound.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then came John the Earl and asked how I did. Whereupon, -minding, as is my wont, to have old Time by the -forelock, I spoke of his promise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here,' I said, 'is the murderer John Mure. Here is -the gang of monsters, and now I will put you in the way -of obtaining the Treasure of Kelwood, if you will fulfil the -promise which you made to me.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What was that?' he said shortly. For though Earl -John liked promising well enough, he was not so fond of -performing if it cost him aught, as in this case it was like -to do.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'My sweetheart here, my knighthood, and a suitable -down-sitting of land,' said I, knowing that it was now or -never with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then he demurred a little, and hesitated, so that for a -moment I thought all was lost.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Your sweetheart you shall have,' he said at last, 'but -the others are not in my gift—save a holding of land, -perhaps, which I can let you for a trifling return when it -falls vacant.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so rejoiced was I to think of getting my lass that -I might have consented to this; but Nell was behind me, -and upon pretence of arranging a knot of the bandage upon -my forehead, she whispered in my ear, 'Threat him with -telling the King about the treasure.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, knowing her wisdom, I obeyed her.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well then, Earl John,' said I, 'if that be so, and a -knighthood and suitable heritages are not in your power to -bestow, here at hand is the King. Give me leave to speak -with him. He is fond of treasure, and I can put a brave -one under his hand!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush!' said the Earl, looking about him with -apprehension. For the King was yet in the place with Mar and -Lennox, ordering the taking down and burying of the -strange, white, narrow-shaped hams, and the other things -that turned the gay, squeamish folk that came with him pale -and sick only to look upon them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush!' he said again, 'above all things beware what -you say to the King. Show the Kelwood treasure to myself -alone, and you shall have Barrhill—ay, and all Minnochside -from the Rowan-tree to the forks of Trool, and I will even -speak to the King about the knighting!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Will your lordship please to declare it before witnesses,' -said I, Nell prompting me as before, for my head was dazed; -but hers was singularly clear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So he called to him certain honourable men of his name, -and promised faithfully. 'Are you content?' said he.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I said, 'Nelly, show them the treasure. Here is the key!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she rose and took them to the box—which, by the -blessing of God remained still where we had left it in the -recess—and she fitted the key in the lock, and it turned -without a sound. And there the Earl bathed his hands in -the set jewels, the loose stones of price, and the coined, -golden money, plashing them through his fingers with a -sound like a spout of water, till for fear of the King, I -advised him to close it again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is worth the bargain,' said he, 'though I am sorry to -have promised away fair Minnochside. I trow it was -woman's wit that guided you in the asking, and not that -thick-bandaged head-piece of thine, Launcelot Kennedy.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But I answered not, knowing how to leave well alone -when a man is pleased with himself. So the Earl placed -Robert Harburgh to guard the chest, and to lie discreetly -concerning it if any of the King's men should come near, -saying that it was but some foulness appropriate to the den.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But none came asking, and thus was the Treasure of -Kelwood conquest for ever to the family of Cassillis.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As for Sawny Bean's monstrous brood, is it not recorded -how they were carried through the country to Edinburgh, -and as how they went the folk flocked in from leagues away -to see and execrate them. They were hurried straight to -the sands of Leith, where, without process of trial or pleading, -and in the manner prescribed for such fiends, they were -executed out of hand as enemies to the human race in general.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus, mainly through my instrumentality, was the -country rid of a monstrous foul blot such as no land since -the flood has ever been cursed with. Though I deny not that -Dominie Mure and Nell Kennedy helped well according to -their possibles, yet the most part of the credit was rightly -given to me, who had twice adventured my life within the -Cave of Death—though, as I admit, on both occasions -against my will.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 1em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Once more the City of Edinburgh swarmed with -Kennedys, come thither to the great trial. There had -not been so great a concurrence of Westland folk in -Edinburgh, since the memorable day when young Gilbert of -Bargany cleared the causeway of us of the house of Cassillis—for -which afterwards we were one and all put to the horn, -to our great and lasting honour, as hath been related.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the West Port I met Patrick Rippett, he who had -taunted Benane at the Maybole snowballing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Whither is your eye gone?' I asked him, for he had a -black patch where his left eye should have been.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A fause loon pyked it out and offered it me back on the end -of his rapier!' said Patrick Rippett, with the utmost unconcern.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what said ye to him?' I asked of Patrick, because -he was not a man to take a jest (and such a jest) for -nothing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Faith, I juist bartered him fair. I offered him his heart -on the point of mine!' said Rippett, and so strolled away, -ogling the snooded maids at the windows of the high -lands as best he could, with the one wicked orb which was -left to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I was walking with my father at the time. He had -ridden the long way from Kirrieoch on a white pony, all to -pleasure my mother.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ye maun gang and hear the laddie gie his evidence,' -she bade him. 'They will fright him to deid else, amang -thae Edinburgh men o' the law. They are no canny. So -long as Launce gets striking at them with the steel I ken -he is safe and sound. For his hand can e'en keep his head, -as a Kennedy's ever should. But wha kens what they may -do to my laddie when he stands afore the justicers, and the -lawyer loons come at him wi' their quips and quandaries?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Faith then, good wife,' said my father, 'ye shall come -too. And thou and I shall ride to Edinburgh like joes that -are newly wed.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And though at first she denied, yet at the last she -consented, well-pleased enough—having a desire to purchase -garmentry more suitable for the wife of a laird and the -mother of one who was to be made a knight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When my mother went out for the first time, she held -up her hands and exclaimed at the noise and bustle of the -High Street—the soldiers who were for ever marching to -and fro in companies with drums and pipes, the lasses that -went hither and thither with a shawl about their heads, and -bandied compliments—and such compliments—with swashbucklers -and rantipole 'prentice lads. 'The limmers, they -need soundly skelping!' said my mother, 'for a' that they -carry their heads so high, and their kirtles higher than -their heads!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Surely scantly that!' said my father.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But ay,' continued my mother, not heeding him in her -press of speech, 'such hair-brained hempies wad be dookit in -the Limmers' Dub on Saturday in every decent country, and -set on the black stool of repentance ilka Sabbath day. I -wonder what the King and the ministers o' Edinburgh can -be thinkin' o'?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was, however, for most of us a long and weary -waiting, ere in the town of Edinburgh the High Court of -Justiciary was ripe for the hearing of the case against the -Mures. But when at last the great day came the whole -West Country was there.[#]</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="noindent pfirst"><span class="small">[#] Sir Launcelot Kennedy, of Palgowan -and Kirrieoch, appears somewhat -to have confused the dates of the first -and second trials of John Mure of -Auchendrayne. Indeed, weakness in exact -chronology is common to his record -and to the contemporary Historie of the Kennedies, -which was written about the -same time by a partisan of the other side—it -may even be by John Mure of -Auchendrayne himself.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>And though many a face was joyous as were ours, eke -many were sad and lowering. For it is strange that such -ill men should have some to love them, or at least so it was -with John Mure the elder. And so there were in the city -Mures by the score, fighting, black-avised MacKerrows, -cankered Craufords, with all the disbanded Bargany -discontents from the south of Carrick, Drummurchie's broken -band from the hill-lands of Barr, together with many others. -So that we kept our swords, as at our first visit to the town -in the days of Gilbert Kennedy, free in their scabbards while -we ruffled it along the pavement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I mind what my mother said, the first time she went -down the plainstones with me. We met young Anthony -Kennedy of Benane, and I perceived that it was his intent -to take the wall of me. So I squared myself, and went a -little before with my hand on my rapier hilt and my elbows -wide, also cocking fiercely my bonnet over my eye—which -assurance feared Anthony so greatly that he meekly took the -pavement edge, and I went by with my mother on my -arm, having, as I thought, come off very well in the matter.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But my mother stood stock still in amazement.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Laddie, laddie, I kenned na what had taken ye—ye -prinked and passaged for a' the world like our bantam cock -at Kirrieoch, when he hears his neighbour at Kirriemore craw -in the prime of the morn. Gin ye gang on that gait, ye will -get your kame berried and scarted, my lad. So listen your -auld mither, and walk mair humbly.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this I was somewhat shamed, and dropped behind like -a little whipped messan; for my mother has a brisk tongue. -My father said not a word, but there was a look of dry -humorsomeness upon his face which I knew and feared more -than my mother's clip-wit tongue.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-great-day-of-trial"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER XLIX</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE GREAT DAY OF TRIAL</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>At last, however, the trial was set, and we all summoned -for our evidence. It was to be held in the High Court of -Justiciary, and was a right solemn thing. A hot day in -mid-summer it proved, with the narrow, overcrowded bounds of -the town drowsed with heat, and yet eaten up with a plague -of flies. The room of the trial was a large one, with a dais -for the judges at the end, the boxes for the prisoners, and -a tall stool with steps and a bar on which to rest the hands, -for the witnesses.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And in the long, dark, low, oak-panelled room what a -crush of people! For the report of the monstrous dealing -of the Mures and the strangeness of their crimes, had caused -a mighty coil in the town of Edinburgh and in the country -round about. So that all the time of the trial there was a -constant hum about the doors—now a continuous murmur -that forced its way within, and now a louder roar as the -doors were opened and shut by the officers of the court. -Also, in order to show themselves busybodies, these pot-bellied -stripe-jackets went and came every minute or two, pushing -right and left with their halberts, which the poor folk had -very peaceably to abide as best they might.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But the disposition of the rabble of the city was a marvel -to me. For being stirred up by the Bargany folk and by -the Earl of Dunbar, Mure's well-wisher, it was singularly -unfriendly to us. So that we were almost feared that the -criminals might, after all, be let off by the overawing of the -assize that sat upon the case. But finally, as it happened, -those who were chosen assize-men were mostly landward -gentlemen of stout hearts and no subjection to the clamour -of the vulgar—such, indeed, as should ever be placed upon -the hearing of justice, not mere bodies of the Luckenbooths, -who, if they give the verdict against the popular voice, are -liable to have their shops and stalls plundered. And James -Scrymgeour of Dudhope, a good man, was made the -chancellor of the jury.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There were many of the great Lords of Session on the -bench. For a case so important and notable had not been -tried for years, and the Lords of Secret Council appointed -my Lord President himself to be in the chief place in his -robes, as well as five other justices in his company, that the -dittay might be heard with all equal mind and with great -motion of solemnity.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was eleven by the clock when the judges were ushered -in, Sir John Fenton of Fentonbarns, Lord President, coming -first and sitting in the midst.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the crier of the court shouted, 'Way for His -Majesty—for King James the Sext make way!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And all the people rose up while King James was -coming in. He sat upon the bench with the justices -indeed, but a little way apart, as having by law no share in -their deliberations. Nevertheless he was all the time writing -and passing pieces of white paper to them, whereat they -bowed very courteously back to him. But whether they -took any notice of their import I know not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the prisoners were brought in. John Mure the -elder, with his grey hair and commanding presence, looked -out of from beneath his eyebrows like a lion ignominiously -beset. James Mure the younger came after his father, a -heavy, loutish, ignorant man, but somewhat paled with his -bloody handling at the instance of the Lords of Secret -Council. Also in accordance with the promise of Earl -John in the matter of the finding of the cave, James -Bannatyne of Chapeldonnan was not set up for trial -along with them, which was a wonder to many and an -outcry to some of the evilly affected.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then the court being set, the dittay was read solemnly -by a very fair-spoken and courteous gentleman, Thomas -Hamilton of Byres, the King's advocate. He spoke in a -soft voice as if he were courting a lady. And whenever he -addressed a word to the prisoners, it was as if he had been -their dearest friend, and grieved that they should thus stand -in jeopardy of their lives.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Yet, or so it seemed to me, John Mure was ever his -match, and answered him without a moment's hesitancy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, after the advocate's opening, the evidence was -led. They called upon me first to arise. And I declare -that my knees trembled and shook as they never did before -the shock of battle. So that only the sight of Nell's pale -face and my mother holding her hand, at all gave me any -shred of courage. But, nevertheless, I went, with my -tall, blue-banded hat in hand and my Damascus sword by my -side, to the stance. And there I told all that I had -seen—first of the murder at the Chapel of St Leonards, with -the matter of the Grey Man who sat his horse a little -way apart among the sandhills. Yet could I not declare -on mine oath that I knew of a certainty that this man was -the accused John Mure of Auchendrayne. Though as -between man and man I was wholly assured of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I told also of the sending of the letter and of the -confusion of the lad upon his return from the house of -Auchendrayne, and of all the other matter which came -under my observation, even as I have detailed them in -this history, but more briefly. Then a tall, thin, leathery -man, Sir John Russell the name of him, advocate for the -Mures, stood up and tried to shake me in my averments. -But he could not—no, nor any other man. For I wasted -no thought on what I ought to say, but out with the -plain truth. So that he could not break down the -impregnable wall of the thing that was, neither make me -say that which was not.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then there came one after the other the Dominie, -Meg Dalrymple, Robert Harburgh, and lastly my own Nell. -But they had little more to tell than I had told at the -first, till the herald of the court cried out for Marjorie Mure, -or Kennedy, called in the pleas the younger lady of -Auchendrayne.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then, pale as a lily flower is pale, clad in white, and -with her hair daintily and smoothly braided, she rose and -gave her hand to my Lord Cassillis, who brought her -with all dignity and observance to the witness stance. So -firmly she stood within it, that she seemed a figure of -some goddess done in alabaster, the like of that which I -had once seen at the entering in of the King's palace at -Holy rood House.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was the stillest silence while Marjorie told her -tale. The King stood up in his place, with his hat on his -head, to look at her. The judges gazed as though they had -seen a ghost. But in an even voice she related all the terrible -story, making it clear as crystal, till there stood out the full -wickedness of the unparalleled murders.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'You are the wife of James Mure, the younger prisoner,' -said the man of leather, the advocate Russell,; 'how then -do you appear to give evidence against him?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I was first the daughter of Thomas Kennedy of Culzean, -whom these men slew!' said she.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And this was her sole answer. The lawyers for the -defence, as was their duty, tried to make it out that her -evidence was prejudiced, and so to shake it. But the King -broke out upon them, 'No more than we are all prejudiced -against foul murder!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So they were silenced. But the judges were manifestly -ill at ease, and shifted in their seats—for even the King had -not liberty of speech in that place. Yet no man said him -nay, because he was the King, and, save it were Maister -Robert Bruce, not many cared to brook his sudden violent -rages.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then was entered James Bannatyne, who had been -brought to confession (in what fashion it boots not to -inquire), and he in his turn detailed, line by line, all the -iniquity. So it seemed that now the net was indeed woven -about the cruel plotters. But my Lord President, by the -King's authority, was instant with the prisoners to confess the -murdering of Sir Thomas and of the other—yea, even offering -his life (but no more) to either of them who would reveal -the matter, and tell who were complices in the conspiracy.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I think James Mure the younger was a little -moved at this offer, for I saw him very plainly move and -shift the hand that was upon his head. His father watched -him with a sharp eye, and once set his manacled wrist upon -his son's shoulder, as it had been to encourage him to remain -firm. He himself stood erect and undaunted all the time -of the trial, like a tower of ancient strength, while his son -sat upon a stool with his back against the bars of the box, as -it seemed careless of the crimes which were alleged against -him. He had not even lifted his eyes when his wife -Marjorie went into the place of witnessing.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last it was all over, and the men of the jury spoke -earnestly together, while John Mure watched them with his -lionlike eyes shining from under his hassock of grey hair. -The King sat impatiently drumming his hands upon a rail. -He would have liked, I could see, to go over to confer with -them. But even King Jamie had hardly dared so much as -that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>After a short space for consultation their president of -assize, Sir James Scrymgeour, stood up in the body of the -court with a little paper in his hand,</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'King's lieges all, are ye agreed in your verdict?' asked -my Lord President.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We are,' said Sir James, firmly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what is your finding?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>There was a great and mighty silence so that the anxious -tapping of the King's fingers on the wooden bench could be -heard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We find them both GUILTY—' said Sir James.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He would have said more in due form, but there was a -thunderous shout from all the Westland folk that were in the -hall, so that no more could be heard. But the King was seen -upon his feet commanding silence, and the macers of the -court struck here and there among them that shouted.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then when the tumult within was a little hushed, my -Lord President rose to pronounce sentence. But he had -scarce opened his mouth, when there came through the open -windows the angry roaring of the mob without. For the news -had already reached them, and Dunbar and others were busily -employed stirring them up to make a tumult on behalf of -the murderers. My Lord President had a noble voice and -the words of condemnation came clear and solemn from him, -so that they were heard above the din by every ear in the -hall—ay, and even as far as the outer port.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We discern and adjudge John Mure of Auchendrayne -and James Mure his son and apparent heir to be ta'en to the -Mercat Cross of Edinburgh, and there their heads to be -stricken from their bodies—as being culpable and convict -of many treasonable and heinous crimes. Which is -pronounced for DOOM!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And when the officers had removed the prisoners, Marjorie -Kennedy walked forth from the hall of judgment, as silent -and composed as though she had been coming out of the -kirk on a still summer's morning with her Bible in her hand.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="the-last-of-the-grey-man"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER L</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">THE LAST OF THE GREY MAN</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>It was the morn of the execution. Justice, delayed for -long, was that day to let fall its sword. We of the Cassillis -colours mustered in the dead of the night, for there was no -force save the City Guard within the walls. And we had -recently had overly many proofs how little these men could -do with the unruly commons of Edinburgh if it pleased them -to be turbulent. So it had come to be bruited abroad, that -there was an intent to prevent the execution and deliver -the murderers out of the hands of justice.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But we were resolved that this should not be. So, as -was our bounden duty, we armed us to support the right -and to keep the King's peace against all riotous law-breakers. -The Earl gave to me the command of one half of the -band, reserving the other for himself. And already he -called me Sir Launcelot, though I had not yet received the -acknowledgment of knighthood from the King.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At the first break of day it was to be done. Of this we -had private notice from the turnkey of the Tolbooth.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had worked earnestly upon my mother and Nell that -they should abide from the business—which was, indeed, not -for womankind to see. Though I knew that there would -be many there, ay, even dames gentle of degree. But my -father marched with me.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Shall I put my harness off me,' said he, 'when there is -a chance of a tumult, and of the defeating of the solemn -justice of Providence and of King James? God forbid! -Wife, help me on with my jack.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So I placed my father in my own command, and I set -him in the second rank with Hugh of Kirriemore beside -him and Robert Harburgh in front of him, where I judged -he would not come to any great harm. And we Kennedies -had the King's private permission thus to come through the -town under arms. When we arrived at the place the tall -scaffold had already been set up at the cross, and even ere -we arrayed us first about it, many a candle had begun to -wink here and there in the tall windows of the High Street.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl was to command a second strong guard from -the prison port to the scaffold, lest the rabble should try to -overwhelm the City Guard and the marshal's men as they -convoyed the prisoners to the place of execution.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus we of the first band stood grimly to our arms a -long time after the gloaming of the morning began. The -hum of the folk gathering surrounded us. There was, -however, little pleasance or laughing, as there is at an -ordinary heading or hanging; and that did not betoken -good, for when the populace is silent, it is plotting. This -much I had learned in my long service and afterwards as a -knight-at-arms. Therefore I hold it the true wisdom to -strike ere the many-headed can bite. That, at least, is my -thought of it.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Slowly and slowly three or four dark figures on the -scaffold grew clearer to our eyes, till we could see the -headsman and his assistants waiting patiently for their work to be -brought to them. The chief of these was a man mighty of -his arms. He had a black mask upon his face, and was -naked even to the waist. A leathern apron like a smith's -was done about his loins, and he stood leaning his broad axe -upon the block. The sun was just beginning to redden the -clouds in the east, when the door of the Tolbooth fell open -with a loud noise. At the very same moment the rooks and -jackdaws arose in a perfect cloud from the pinnacles of St -Giles as well as from the whole city. And in a black -clanging cloud they drifted seaward. Which was looked upon as -a marvel by them that watched for freits. For they said, -'These be John Mure's devils that have forsaken him.' And, -indeed, whether there was aught in it or no, certain is -it that the birds came not back for many days. At least, -not to my seeing, but then I was much occupied with other -matters.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>As the procession came out, the Earl John and his men -filed on either side in a triple line, with the axe-men of the -guard marching close about the prisoners. John Mure -walked first in his grey cloak, but bareheaded, striding -reverend and strong before all. Behind him came his son. -And hand in hand with him (O marvel of marvels!) was -she that had been in name his wife, even Marjorie Kennedy. -And as they came, the light grew clearer. There seemed -to be almost a smile upon the Lady Marjorie's face. And -James Mure listened intently as she spoke low and steadily -to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For Marjorie had in these days become (as it seemed) -a woman removed from us, supported by no earthly food. -For none touched her lips, her strength being upheld by -some power from above; at least, so I think. She had -received permission from the King to be with her husband in -his last hours.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have fulfilled the Lord's justice, for my duty was laid -upon me,' she said, 'but I would not kill both body and -soul.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>How she effected it I know not; but certain it is that -during the weeks of waiting she had won James Mure in some -sort to contrition and prayer. And now with his hand in -hers, they walked together along the short way to the scaffold -foot; but old John Mure strode scornfully on before, heedful -neither of man nor woman. And I swear that I could not -but in some measure admire at him, devil of cruelty as he -was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They climbed the scaffold—John Mure calmly as though -he were leading a lady to a banquet table—but his son -faltered and had fallen at the ladder foot, save for the hand -of Marjorie, who walked in white by his side, accompanying -him faithfully to his end.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am his wife,' she said. 'It was I who brought him -to this. Ye will not twain me from him on this day of -shame. Never have I owned James Mure as my husband -before, but I own him now.' These were her words, when -the captain of the guard was instant with her to depart home.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I declare that the doomed man looked at her with -something like a beast's dumb gratitude in his eyes, which, -when you think on it, is a thing marvellous enough. And -I ask not that it shall be believed. Yet I saw it, and will -at any time uphold the truth of it with my sword if need be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last they stood upon the scaffold platform, and the -headsman made ready. Then there sounded above the -mingled roar of the multitude the blowing of a trumpet. -And the King's gay favourite, the Duke of Lennox, rode to -the foot of the stage. He had a paper in his hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A pardon! A pardon!' yelled the people.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>My heart gave a great leap and stood still.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'They never dare!' cried I. 'Lads, stand firm. If -the King hath pardoned the murderers, shall we of the -West? Will ye follow me, lads?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And they whispered back, 'Ay, that we will. We will -help you to do justice upon them. The Mures shall never -leave this place alive, though we all die also. We shall not -go back to Carrick, shamed by these men's lives.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So we arranged it, if by any chance there should be news -of a reprieve. For it was by singular good hap that we were -the only company under arms in the city, save the few men -of the Town Guard.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But when Lennox made his way to the scaffold, we -heard another way of it. I was almost underneath the -staging upon the front, and heard that which was said, almost -every word.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The King to you two traitors about to die,' he read. -'His Majesty desires greatly to be informed of the certainty -of these things whereof you have been accused, and for which -you have been justly condemned—the murder of Sir Thomas -Kennedy, the matter of the bloody dagger thrown at the Red -House, the Treasure of Kelwood, and its taking out of the -changehouse on the Red Moss. His Majesty the King -offers life and his clemency in a perpetual exile upon some -warded isle, to the first of you that will reveal the whole -matter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The King's favourite ceased his reading, and looked at -the condemned men.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And John Mure in his plain grey cloak, which he had -not yet laid aside, looked askance at Lennox, who shone like -a butterfly in gay colours, being tricked out in the latest -fitful extravagancies of fashion.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'We shall be grateful to His Majesty all our lives,' said -he, sneeringly, 'but the Solomon of Scotland is so wise that -he can easily certify himself of the truth of these things -without our poor aid.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But James Mure the younger, where he stood with his -wife by his side, seemed a little struck with the message, and -began to listen with interest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Read that again,' he said to Lennox, abruptly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And Lennox, prinking and preening him like a gay-feathered -Indian bird in my lady's bower, read the King's -mandate over again.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Mure watched his son with the eye of a crouching -wild cat. The younger man was about to utter something, -when his father said quickly to Lennox, 'I pray thee, my Lord -Duke, may I speak with you a moment apart? I am the -first to accept the offer!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And with that they came both of them to the side of the -scaffold where I was on guard, leaving James Mure standing -with drooping head by the block.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hark ye, my lord,' said Auchendrayne the elder, 'thy -master's terms are fair enough to be offered to a dying man -on the scaffold. I will take them. But on condition that -my son be executed before I reveal the secret. For there are -but two of us left, and we have been close to one another all -our lives. I would not, therefore, have my son think that I, -being an old man, for the sake of a year or two of longer life, -would reveal those matters for which he has already suffered -the torture of the extreme question, with so great constancy -both in the King's inquest chamber and before the Lords of -Secret Council.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That is easily arranged,' said Lennox, dusting at his -doublet. 'I have but to give the word to the executioner, -and he will do his duty first upon your son. Then he will -halt till you have accepted the King's mercy, and given -pledge and earnest of full revelations concerning these hidden -and mysterious matters.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>This was Lennox's customary manner of speaking—as -he had learned it in the English Court, with womanish -conceits and a flood of words and gestures. And as he spoke -he smiled upon John Mure, as though the old grey man in -the cloak and reverend beard had been some young and -easy-virtued dame of the Court.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so taken up with himself was he, that he did not -observe the basilisk look which the arch-conspirator turned -upon him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lennox held up his hand to the executioner.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In the King's name,' he cried to the man in the mask, -'do thine office upon the younger first, and speedily.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'These are not my orders!' quoth he in the mask, curtly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Lennox flashed a little ebon staff, with a golden crown -set upon the summit, before his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Would'st thou argie-bargie with me?' he said, 'then -right soon another shall take thy bishopric and (as thou -dost others) shalt shepherd thee to Hades.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereat Marjorie, robed in her clear-shining white, -took the hand of James Mure, the man that was about -to die.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Husband,' said she, calmly, 'I have asked pardon for -thee from God—do thou also ask it now, ere swift death -take thee. Ask it both from God and man.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For she had been his ministrant angel in the prison. -And her own heart being changed—vengeance in the drinking -not seeming so sweet a cup as it had appeared in the -mixing. She had also won the sullen mechanic heart of -him, who, according to the law of the land, had been so -long her husband. She had showed him the way to a -certain sum of faith, penitence, and hope. Which, -perchance, he snatched at, not so much for themselves, but -as the best things which were left to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'James, won thou forth on thy way. Fear not! Thou -shalt not be long alone,' she said to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And, staggering a little, he moved across the scaffold. -He would have fallen but that Marjorie set his hand upon her -shoulder and put her arm about him. So he came forward -stumbling like a man in sore sickness, as doubtless he was.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I am a sinful man,' he said, so that some, at least, could -hear him. 'Pray for me, good people. Keep your hands -from blood, as I have not kept mine. And, Marjorie, -though thou didst never love me, love me now, and bide -with me till I die.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Fear not,' she said; 'I will stand beside thee, and not -only here. I have a message that I shall right soon be called -to journey with thee further, meeting thee somewhere by -the way that thou must go.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And calling him again 'sweet brother' and 'James,' she -laid down his neck upon the block, and with one blow the -headsman featly did his office. But Marjorie stood still and -received the poor head in a decent napkin after the masked -man had held it up.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Mure looked at her and at her son all the time, -and an evil and contemptuous light shone in his eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Madam,' he said, 'it had done no harm had you begun -your care and attendance somewhat earlier. Ye might have -made a decent preacher out of James. He was never -muckle worth for aught else.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then Lennox came forward again with his paper.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Now, John Mure,' he said, 'we have done according -to your desire. Ye will now, I doubt not, having seen the -end and reward of iniquity in the person of your son, accept -His Majesty's so marvellous clemency, and be content to -reveal all the matter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He came a little near to the old man, airily whisking his -paper with his forefinger.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Mure waved him aside with one hand, and held his -nose with the other.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Pah! Get apart from me, civet cat!' he cried. -'Think ye that I will have any dealings with you or with -your dullard fool master, King Baggy-breeches. I saw that -ye might, perchance, were I first turned to dead clay and -lappered blood, chance to get something out of James there. -I saw him look somewhat too eagerly on your reprieve, for -much belated domesticity had turned him soft. So I played -with you. And now, wot ye well, ye shall know nothing -from me that your precious Solomon of asses cannot divine -for himself!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>He took off his cloak of grey and lace collar, baring his -neck for the dead stroke.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Stay,' he said to Lennox. 'Since your wise King is so -curious. Here is a history of divers matters that may -interest your master. It may do him some good.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The new minister of Edinburgh, a soft-spoken, -King-fearing man, came near. John Mure looked at him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of what religion art thou?' he asked. 'Ay, verily, of -the King's religion. Were my time not so circumscribed, -I would have at thee with texts, thou time-serving rogue. -Ay, and would swinge thee with them soundly, too.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'In what religion dost thou die?' said the minister. For -it was a customary question in those days, when men were -forced to live and die on the borderland of many creeds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>John Mure smiled as he bent his head to the block.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Of the ancientest persuasion,' said he, 'for I am ready -to believe in any well-disposed god whom I may chance to -meet in my pilgriming. But in none will I believe till I do -meet him. Nevertheless do thou, like a wise, silly bishop, -stick to the King and thy printed book!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Which saying was remembered when the minister was -afterward made a bishop by the King's favour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>With these words, John Mure threw out his hands with -a sharp jerk—for that was the customary signal. The broad -axe rose and fell, flashing in the sun a moment ere it crashed -dully upon the block. The Westland men gave a shout, -and the heathen spirit of John Mure of Auchendrayne, -carrying such a load of sin and bloodshedding as never soul -did before or since, fared forth alone to its own place.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="marjorie-s-good-night"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER LI</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">MARJORIE'S GOOD-NIGHT</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>Even as the axe was falling, Marjorie Kennedy sank down -upon the platform of the scaffold, as though the stroke had -fallen upon her. I sheathed my sword, and sprang upon -the slippery stage to hold her up. When I took her in my -arms she was soft and pliable in all her limbs like a little -child. Till now she had been like a woman of steel, or -rather like one carven in alabaster, as I have said. But now -she lay in my arms like a new-born babe on the nurse's lap.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>We carried her homeward, making strangely enough for -some distance but one procession with the bodies which were -going to be buried without the wall, while the heads were -taken to be set on the pikes of the Nether Bow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To the Earl John's own lodging we brought her, and in -a room with a wide north-looking window we laid her down -on a bed. Then we stood silently about her, Nell and I -being nearest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>In a little while Marjorie turned her head to the window. -The sun had risen on the sea. A north wind was blowing. -All was very blue, and smacked of the morning freshness, -for the window was open, and the sea air blew off the firth -almost as salt it was wont to blow in at the windows of -Culzean.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thrice she moved her lips to speak, but till the fourth -time no word came.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'I have done the work appointed,' she said, 'I ken not -if I have done it right.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She paused a little, and her eyes, as she looked at the sea, -were very wide and wistful.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It is a hard saying that "Vengeance is His." I thought -it would be sweet—sweet,' she said, 'but now in the mouth -it is bitter.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Hush thee, Marjorie,' whispered my Nell; 'it was the -justice of God upon the murderers of our father.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I thought that she spoke well.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But Marjorie waved her aside.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Like enough,' she answered, quietly, as one that has -not strength to argue, but yet holds the contrary opinion. -'Done, at least, is Marjorie's task. I journey forth to take -my wages. Fare you well.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She turned her face a little outward so that she could -look upon the sea and the Fife Lomonds.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'A dearer shore,' she said, softly, and then she started a -little, quickly as if she had waked from sleep.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Where am I?' she asked.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But ere we could answer—even Nell, who stood close -beside her and stroked her brow with a soft hand, she went -on,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, what am I saying? I was thinking on our -garden at Culzean, with its rose walks and the sweet -dreaming scent of the sea?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She looked up at me, as it had been almost archly, yet so -as almost to break my heart.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Launcelot, lad,' she said, 'hast thou thy gage that I -gave thee there? Ye thought me once to be sweet. And -I liked you, laddie, I liked you—with something just an -inch on the hither side of loving. But now Nelly will love -thee a mile on the further side. Come you, Nell,' she said, -beckoning her, 'brave, sweet sister! Let not thy sharp -tongue longer injure thy warm heart. Give me your hand, -little sister Nelly. Where is it? I cannot see—for the -bright shining light.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And finding Nell's hand she put it into mine across the bed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Good-night, bairns,' she said, 'even so keep them till -the world ends!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then for a short space she was silent, and when she -spoke again it was very low, so that none save Nell and I -could hear. But the words made us tingle as we caught them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gilbert,' she was saying in a whisper, clear and distinct, -'is it not sweet to walk thus hand in hand on the green -meadows? Are not the spring flowers sweet, lad of my love? -Shall I sing thee a song about them? For, though thou -know'st it not, I can sing both high and low.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then she spoke as it had been liltingly and gladsomely.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gilbert, let me set this spray of the bonny birk above -thine heart. Methinks it hath a strange look. I kenned -not that it grew in this countryside.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She broke into a weird lilt of song that sent the tears -hasting to our eyes. But Marjorie was smiling as she never -smiled on me, and that made me weep the more.</span></p> -<blockquote> -<div> -<div class="line-block outermost"> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">'It neither grew in syke nor ditch</em></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">Nor yet in any sheuch,</em></div> -</div> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">But at the gates o' Paradise,</em></div> -<div class="inner line-block"> -<div class="line"><em class="italics">That birk grew fair eneuch.'</em></div> -<div class="line"> </div> -</div> -</div> -</div> -</blockquote> -<p class="pfirst"><span>'Gilbert, Gilbert,' she said lovingly, crooning like one -that is caressed, 'is not this right winsome? That we are -walking here together on the living green—with all our -fashes, all our troubles left quite behind us. There was surely -something long ago that wearied us, something that parted us -and twained us. I cannot mind what it was. I shall not -try to remember. But, love of mine, it shall separate us no -more for ever and ever!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Her voice had almost gone. But once again it came louder.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Keep my hand, Gilbert,' she said, trembling a little, -'there is a mist coming up over the green betwixt me and -the sunshine—a cold, cold mist from the sea. But keep -thou my hand, dear love, clasp it tighter, and it will pass -over.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I saw the death sweat break on her brow.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Gilbert, Gilbert,' she whispered, searching above her -with her hands and opening her arms, 'clasp me closer. I -cannot see thee, love, for the mist. I cannot feel your -hand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I bent my ear. I thought she was gone from us. But, -as from an infinite distance I heard the words come to me. -They were the last, spoken with great relief.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'The mist has gone by, dear love! The mist has quite -gone by!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And she lay still, smiling most sweetly.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst" id="home-coming"><span class="bold large">CHAPTER LII</span></p> -<p class="center pnext"><span class="bold medium">HOME-COMING</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 2em"> -</div> -<p class="pfirst"><span>The snows of another winter had fallen, frozen, and lain -long ere they were at last whisked away by the winds of a -brisk and bitter March. It was now again the springtime -upon the face of the earth—the time of the earliest singing -of the mavis, of the sweet piping of the blackbird on the -tree. The grasses were green, too, over the unforgotten -grave of our Marjorie. But we who loved her had won to -a memory that was not now wholly sorrow. Specially we -remembered the sweet and profitable end she had made, -when after many days of bitter winter in her heart, -forgiveness and love at last unsealed her bosom.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It had been a long winter for us all, because it behoved -that I should go to London, there to be made one of His -Majesty's new knights. For I had told all my tale to the -King, being so charged by the Earl John.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yet,' said he, 'keep ever your thumb upon the matter -of the Treasure of Kelwood. And I will keep mine right -effectually upon Currie, the ill-conditioned thief thereof.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And so he did, and for the same Laird of Kelwood's sake -chiefly, he set to mending and patching our old tower of -defence on Craig Ailsa, in which he gave one Hamilton the -charge of him as prisoner, together with John Dick the -traitor and two or three more.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It was a fine, quiet place,' said the Earl John, 'and -would give such rascals time and opportunity for -repentance—which,' added he, 'seems more than I am ever likely to -get with all this throng of business on hand.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For the Earl John was now waxen one of the greatest -men in broad Scotland, and withal he had all the power -worth considering in the shire of Ayr. So that even the -Craufords, wanting now their ancient chief, and broken -with bickerings among themselves, sent an embassy of -peace and goodwill to him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It chanced that it came when the Earl was in a good -humour.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah, John Crauford,' said Cassillis, ''tis a changed -day since Bargany and you chased us off Skeldon Haughs. -It looks as if the sow had not been flitted so far after all. -But ye shall have the peace ye ask. For we live under -a gracious King who loves quietness as much as when he -dwelt here in our kindly North. And he is now the better -able to enforce it. Therefore, look ye to it. I will -maintain you Craufords in your heritages of Kerse—which by -my power as Bailzie, I might legally declare forfeit.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But I will tell you what ye must do in return. Ye -shall render me place and precedence at kirk and market. -Ye shall build up your private door in Dalrymple Kirk, -and ye shall abide from taking your places there till ye -have seen me seated.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>To this, dourly enough, the Craufords perforce agreed. -For, indeed, they could make no better of it, so great a -man was our Earl grown.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But to me he was ever kind, and proved none so ill-given -when it liked him. For he said, 'Build you the -house of Palgowan and I will plenish it for you, and that -not meanly. And you and my cousin Nell shall rear me -routh of lusty knaves to protect my south-western -marches, and keep down the reivers of the Dungeon!' Which, -indeed (so far as I was concerned), I was right -willing to promise.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So it came about that the Earl would have it that our -wedding must be held in the ancient strength of Cassillis, -which sits by the waterside not so far from the town of Ayr. -And a bonny, well-sheltered place it is—not like Culzean, -which stands blusteringly on the seabrink, over-frowning all. -And because the Earl of Cassillis said it, so it was bound to be.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>For he was our Nell's guardian, and besides we that were -to live under him, were none the worse of keeping in with -him.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>When I went to do my courting, as often as not I found -Nell walking with him, and ofttimes flouting him. And -when I would have cautioned her, 'Tut,' she said, 'he likes -nothing better. If his own wife flouted him, he might stay -better at home.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Cousin,' Nell would say to him sometimes, 'Cousin -John, ye think ye are such a great man, yet a little -musket-ball, or a woman's finger-long bodkin, might let all thy -greatness out. Ye should think oftener on that.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'What, Nell,' said he, 'is it that the hour of thy -marriage grows so near, that thou must test thy preaching -on me. Keep the proof of the pudding for thine own -goodman.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah,' said she, 'perchance my cousin, the noble Countess, -has already given thee thy fill of it.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Thou art a forward chit,' said he, wringing her ear -between his finger and thumb. 'I hope Launce will swinge -thee tightly with a supple birch for thy often naughtiness.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was, indeed, a notable day when Nell and I were -married. All the morning my heart was beating a fine -tune, lest something should happen ere I got my lass -carried off to our home. Alone I rode from the Cove of -Culzean to the house of Cassillis. I started brave and early, -and my good old horse, Dom Nicholas, rode for once the -right road and the ready, the gate that I longed to go. I had -a rare fine coat of blue silk upon me, belted about the waist -with the King's belt, and with the King's order of knighthood -all a-glitter upon my breast. Silver-buttoned was my -coat, and of solid silver, too, were the accoutrements of Dom -Nicholas—ay, to the very stirrups and the broidery on his blue -saddle-cloth. I wore the Earl's Damascus sword, his first gift, -swinging at my side. And as Dom Nicholas and I went -through Maybole, wot ye, if we kept not our heads up. -For the lasses ran out in clouds to watch us go past, and -what was even better, the lads sulked and turned their backs, -saying that they would be shamed to lay a leg across a -horse's back thus appareled. For I knew well what they were -thinking. Had I been trudging afoot in hodden, and they -riding by all in silk with a gold-hiked sword, that is just -what I should have said. So the black envy eating into -their hearts and lowering on their brows cheered me like old -French wine on a cold day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I had not gone far across the bent when I spied a -cavalcade before me. It was the men of Culzean, whom -I had so often led in battle, come to give me a right gay -sending off. And at their head rode James (now the heir), -mirthful Sandy, and mine own little Davie, dressed like a -page-boy in satin of blue and gold.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>They gave me boisterous welcome, and they that dared -would have broken many jests of the time-honoured sort -upon my head. But on such a day a lover's head is -helmeted alike against the hand of war and the strife of -tongues.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl himself met us at Cassillis Yett. Whereupon -I dismounted and bent upon a knee. He raised me right -courteously and led me within, conversing all the while as to -an equal. Such a repair of folk I never saw before in -Carrick or in Kyle. And sweetest of all to me was to see -my father, for my mother had bidden at home to welcome -us when we should ride southward.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And among the first that came to bid me good fortune -were Robert Harburgh and his wife. Now so soon as the -eyes of my ancient love crossed mine, I perceived well that -there was yet wickedness lurking in them.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And whensoever her husband was called away on some -business of the Earl's I had proof of it. For Kate Allison -came near to me, and, setting her hand on the silver buttons -of my coat, as though to pick a thread, she said,—</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'So, Launcelot—or, I should say, Sir Launcelot—is it -come to this? You see there is none so disdainful but in -time their fall will come.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay, Kate,' I made answer, 'it was not I that was first -disdainful, for do you mind who it was that told me certain -truths in the Grieve's house at Culzean?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ah Launce!' said Kate Allison, 'own it now. Was -not I a kind leech, to bite one I loved so healthily all for -his good and for the cooling of his blood?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kate Allison,' said I, 'thou wast ever a minx, a teasing -rogue of rogues. But thy disdain might have gone near to -costing me my life!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Go to, Sir Want-wit,' said she. 'Did not I know all -the time that thy love for me was no more than a boy's -fondness for kissing comfits, and to be made of by a bonny lass? -Why, even then thou wast fonder of Nell's little finger than -of my whole body.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I knew that Kate spoke true—for, indeed, it was many -months since I had so much as thought upon her. But this -I told her not. The Lord knows how seldom she had -thought upon me. But when they meet together, old -sweethearts take pleasure thus in dallying with the past, -when all wounds have been healed and no hearts broken.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But she saw my eyes wandering, as I guess, every way -about, and she must needs tease me concerning that also.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Nay,' she said, 'you will not see your posy, till she -comes in to the minister and you. So e'en content ye for -a little with an old married wife and the mother of a family. -Ye shall have time and to spare with your bonny bride or -all be done.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Kate,' I said, 'ye will be my friend as of yore.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, and hold my tongue,' answered she quickly.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'That you did not always, then,' said I, 'for there never -was such an uncouth love-making in the world, as with -your tell-tale tongue ye made mine. I dared not lay my -lips to a tender word nor so much as seek a favour, as it -might be innocently betwixt man and maid, but it was -"That you said to Kate on such a night!" or "Think ye -that I count so little on myself as to be content with Kate -Allison's cast-off sweet speeches."'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And the pretty besom laughed. For though a married -wife, she was not a whit sobered, as one might see by -her eyes.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'It served you greatly right,' said she, 'but do me some -justice. Did you ever hear of my telling of the night of -the fair at Maybole, and of our home-coming by the -woodland way?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'No,' said I, curtly. For indeed I liked not that memory -specially well, and wondered that she did.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Then,' said Kate Allison, 'rail no more against woman's -tongues. For they are moveable yard measures, and let out -no more than likes them.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At this moment they called to me from the great door, -and Kate Allison waved me off with a gay 'Up and away, -Sir Knight!'—which pleased me more from her than many -a </span><em class="italics">Benedicite</em><span> from another.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The minister had come, they said, and was waiting for -me. I went in, and lo! to my wonder, who should he be -but Maister Robert Bruce, the sequestrated minister of -Edinburgh, with whom the King had at last wholly fallen -out concerning the matter of the Gowrie riot.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The Earl smiled at my wonderment.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Art thou astonished,' he said, 'thus to see our ancient -friend in Carrick? Thinkest thou that thy marriage will -not stand? Truth it will, for even King James will think -twice, or he bids his bishop unfrock a man that bides with -me in my defenced house of Cassillis.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Sir Launcelot,' said Maister Robert Bruce, bending to -me with his ancient grace and most reverend dignity, 'this -is the happiest hour with me since I quitted my high town -upon the Long Ridge. It is true that I wander like a restless -ghost seeking abode; but as yet the King hath not bent me—yea, -though thrice I have met him in dispute and conference.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then went the Earl out to bring in my Nell, and I -listened to the minister of Edinburgh speaking. Yet, on -my life I could not fix my mind on a word he said, for there -was a jangling as of many bells in mine ears, and all the -pulses of my life beat together. Then knew I of a surety -that none had power to touch my heart like Nell Kennedy, -the lass that would not need to change her name.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>At last the door opened and she entered—leaning on the -Earl's arm she came. There was a rim of gold about her -hair like a coronet. And John of Cassillis bent over to -me, as he gave her into my hand. 'Take her,' he said, 'I -have set a coronet about her brows for to-day. She is in -haste to be wed, or I might have put a real one there. -And what had Sir Launcelot done then, poor thing?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And I think the cold, tall Earl John was more than -a little fond of our Nell, concerning which I often rally her -now.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So Nell and I were married. And as though he had -known her and her teasing temper, Maister Robert Bruce -paused long on the promise to 'obey' when he came to put -the questions to her, and also upon the words 'obedient -wife.' Wherefore I have ever held him to be a man gifted above -most with the second sight.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>It was between the sweet hazel and the flowering May -that we rode south—we two alone. For Robert Harburgh -had led a company of men with flower-wreathed lances and of -young maids on palfreys as far as the crossing of the roads -which come from Culzean, where there met us a party with -the loving cup.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But now at long and last we were won clear, and ever -as we rode we caught hands and laughed and loosed them -again—all for gladness to be alone. And we looked in one -another's eyes, and nigh brought ourselves and our horses -to destruction by thus looking and overlooking. Till I -felt mine old Dom Nicholas, a horse that loves not philandering, -grow restive and sulky under my thigh, tossing his -head up as one slighted for the unworthy. And ever as -we went she charged it upon me that then and then, and -at such another time, I loved her not. And ever I swore -that I did. Thereafter, being beaten on that point, she fell to -declaring that she had loved me first and most—but I only -reluctantly and, as it had been, at second-hand.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Thus we made the miles and the hours go by, redding -up all our past life and planning our future, wondering the -while if the stir and clangour of war had indeed passed -away for ever. For already there had come a new look -upon the land. Whether it was the union of the crowns -and the new English wealth which made money more -plenty, I know not, at any rate certain it is that there had -arrived a security to which we in the lands of Carrick -had been strangers for many generations.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then it was that the farmer began to set his oxen to the -plough in teams of a dozen or more, not fearing any longer -that there might come a glint of steel-harnessed riders over -the hill, who should drive his cattle before them and leave -himself lying in the furrow a-welter in his blood.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>The wind blew sweet about us. It seemed that never -had there been a spring like this one since the world began, -never such delicatest airs as those that stirred the crisps -about Nell's white neck when she bent it sideways to hearken -to my speeches. I declare that were I not an unlearned -Scot, who takes to his pen only when work for the -sword waxes slack, I could praise my love in similitudes of -Arabian birds and ferny sprays, as well as Euphues' Delight -or even as in the gentle Sydney his Arcadia.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But as it is I waste time, for already I have spoke too -long, and must haste me to the end. Though this is a part -of my life that I could love to linger on. For what is -pleasanter than sunshine after storm and the bolts of ruin.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I declare it was five years since I had had time to look -at a robin. But there seemed to be time for everything -this fine May day.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And ever as we went, it seemed that we had been a long -time alone, and that it would soon come time to be turning -back again. Then to which soever of us the thought came, -that we were now on the long lane that has no turning -(save that which turns in at the kirkyaird loaning), there -would also come the desire to touch and to look. And even -thus did Nell Kennedy often, reaching her hand across to -me from her gentle, equal-pacing steed.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then would she fall back on the things that had been, -and which now were passed away.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Yesterday, at such a time,' she would say, 'I thought -that to-day would never come. And now—'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Whereupon with her eyes she would look the rest.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I told her how that I had seen the Dominie but -yestereven, when she was sewing at the pearling of her bridal -dress and thinking of me. He had gone back with his pipes -to the school by the kirk at Maybole.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'And what said he of our wedding?' asked my dear.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Why I was instant with him to come and bide at Palgowan,' -I made answer. 'Shall I tell thee what he said?'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Ay, tell it me, indeed!' quoth she, blithely, stopping -a moment on a high-lying moorish summit, with her hand -above her eyes and looking to the Spear of the Merrick -towards which we rode.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Well, then, he said that those that were but newly wed -had no use for carven negro-heads, wherein to put the ashes -of their loves.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'He is none so ugly as that!' said Nell—with, I think, -a look at me which I took for a certain complaisance it -pleased me to see.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Then I told her how the Dominie had added that it was -not yet time for men of his profession to come about the -house of a newly-wedded knight. But that if prosperity -should come to Palgowan and the din of bairns' voices, we -might ask him again in ten years or somewhat less.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh,' said Nell, shortly, and rode a little further off. -Yet I flattered myself that I had said the thing pretty well. -For it was not at all in these terms that the Dominie had -put his offer. Indeed, I was in a quandary how most -discreetly to deliver his message.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>So, in the long twilight of May, we came riding down -Minnoch Water. For, with the sun-setting, we had fallen -silent, and we looked no more so frankly at each other. -But with one accord we turned our eyes across the water to -watch for the light of my mother's candle in the little -window.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>She heard us as we came; and there, lo! before I knew -it, she was at Nelly's saddle leather, helping her to -dismount, and the tears were running steadily down her face. -I think she minded the day when she, too, had come home -a bride to the little house of Kirrieoch among the hills.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Oh, my bairn—my bairn,' was what she said, 'come -awa' ben!'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And it was to Nell that she said it. Me she minded no -more than a cock-sparrow under the eaves. Then came Hugh -of Kirriemore out to take the horses. But I went, as is my -custom, to the stable with Dom Nicholas, for he never slept -well otherwise. And when I came in again I found that -my mother had Nell already seated by the fireside, for it is -chill among the uplands in May. The peats were burning -fine, and on the white board there was a supper set fit for a -prince and princess.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>But all the time my mother never minded me at all, -save to rage on me for bringing the lass so far and so fast.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'But, mother,' said I, 'remember that if I had not -made some haste, all your fine supper would have been -wasted.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>And indeed it came not far from being that as it was, for -we could eat but little. The finest of muirland fare seemed -somehow or other to stick by the way, tasting strangely dry -and sapless. And after we had done we drew apart and looked -at the red ashes, while my mother rattled on about the simple -concerns of the sheep and the calves, which mountain-bred -folk vastly love both to speak of and to hear about.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>Presently she leaned over me and took down the burnt -Bible out of the wall aumry.</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>'Here, Launce,' she said, 'read you the chapter this -night ere ye sleep. It becomes a man wedded and the -head of a family. Besides, your father is from home.'</span></p> -<p class="pnext"><span>I declare I would sooner have charged upon the level -spears. But I had no choice with my mother, speaking as -she did when I was a boy, and my Nell sitting there crossing -her pretty ankles by the fireside. So I manned to read -a portion. It was about Jonathan clambering up a rock -(and a good soldier he was). But the prayer fairly beat me. -However, ere we rose from our knees we said the Lord's -prayer all of us together. So to rest we went, without other -word spoken. And through the little window of the room -in which I was born, Nell and I could hear, ere we went to -sleep, the brattle of the burn hurrying down through the -peace of the hills, past our own new house of Palgowan -and so on toward the silence of the outermost sea.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>THE END</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 3em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span class="small">COLSTONS LIMITED, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><span>* * * * * * * *</span></p> -<div class="vspace" style="height: 4em"> -</div> -<p class="center pfirst"><em class="bold italics large">STORIES BY S. R. 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