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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..894950a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55361 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55361) diff --git a/old/55361-8.txt b/old/55361-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index d2c0088..0000000 --- a/old/55361-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,9643 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Flemington, by Violet Jacob - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. 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. - -Title: Flemington - -Author: Violet Jacob - -Release Date: August 15, 2017 [EBook #55361] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLEMINGTON *** - - - - -Produced by Paul Haxo with special thanks to the New York -Public Library, the HathiTrust Digital Library, and Google. - - - - - -FLEMINGTON - - -BY VIOLET JACOB -(MRS. ARTHUR JACOB) - -AUTHOR OF "THE INTERLOPER," "THE SHEEP-STEALERS," &c. - -LONDON -JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. -1911 - - - -TO -EVELYN FRANCES MUNRO - - - -AUTHOR'S NOTE - -THIS book has no claim to be considered an historical novel, none of -the principal people in it being historic characters; but the taking -of the ship, as also the manner of its accomplishment, is true. - V. J. - - - -CONTENTS - -BOOK I - -CHAPTER PAGE - - I. PROLOGUE 1 - II. JETSAM 16 - III. A COACH-AND-FIVE 30 - IV. BUSINESS 46 - V. "THE HAPPY LAND" 64 - VI. IN DARKNESS AND IN LIGHT 72 - VII. TREACHERY 84 - VIII. THE HEAVY HAND 100 - IX. "TOUJOURS DE L'AUDACE" 124 - -BOOK II - - X. ADRIFT 135 - XI. THE GUNS OF MONTROSE 150 - XII. INCHBRAYOCK 161 - XIII. THE INTERESTED SPECTATOR 177 - XIV. IN SEARCH OF SENSATION 185 - XV. WATTIE HAS THEORIES 200 - XVI. THE TWO ENDS OF THE LINE 212 - XVII. SOCIETY 222 -XVIII. BALNILLO FINDS PERFECTION 234 - -BOOK III - - XIX. THE WINTER 251 - XX. THE PARTING OF THE WAYS 263 - XXI. HUNTLY HILL 280 - XXII. HUNTLY HILL (_continued_) 288 -XXIII. THE MUIR OF PERT 299 - XXIV. THE VANITY OF MEN 313 - XXV. A ROYAL DUKE 327 - XXVI. THE VANISHING BIRD 335 -XXVII. EPILOGUE 346 - - - -BOOK I - - - -FLEMINGTON - - -CHAPTER I - -PROLOGUE - -MR. DUTHIE walked up the hill with the gurgle of the burn he had just -crossed purring in his ears. The road was narrow and muddy, and the -house of Ardguys, for which he was making, stood a little way in front -of him, looking across the dip threaded by the water. The tall white -walls, discoloured by damp and crowned by their steep roof, glimmered -through the ash-trees on the bank at his right hand. There was -something distasteful to the reverend man's decent mind in this homely -approach to the mansion inhabited by the lady he was on his way to -visit, and he found the remoteness of this byway among the grazing -lands of Angus oppressive. - -The Kilpie burn, travelling to the river Isla, farther west, had -pushed its way through the undulations of pasture that gave this -particular tract, lying north of the Sidlaws, a definite character; -and the formation of the land seemed to suggest that some vast -ground-swell had taken place in the earth, to be arrested, suddenly, -in its heaving, for all time. Thus it was that a stranger, wandering -about, might come unwarily upon little outlying farms and cottages -hidden in the trough of these terrestrial waves, and find himself, -when he least awaited it, with his feet on a level with some humble -roof, snug in a fold of the braes. It was in one of the largest of -these miniature valleys that the house of Ardguys stood, with the -Kilpie burn running at the bottom of its sloping garden. - -Mr. Duthie was not a stranger, but he did not admire the unexpected; -he disliked the approach to Ardguys, for his sense of suitability was -great; indeed, it was its greatness which was driving him on his -present errand. He had no gifts except the quality of decency, which -is a gift like any other; and he was apt, in the company of Madam -Flemington, to whose presence he was now hastening, to be made aware -of the great inconvenience of his shortcomings, and the still greater -inconvenience of his advantage. He crossed the piece of uneven turf -dividing the house from the road, and ascended the short flight of -stone steps, a spare, black figure in a three-cornered hat, to knock -with no uncertain hand upon the door. His one great quality was -staying him up. - -Like the rest of his compeers in the first half of the seventeen -hundreds, Mr. Duthie wore garments of rusty blue or grey during the -week, but for this occasion he had plunged his ungainly arms and legs -into the black which he generally kept for the Sabbath-day, though the -change gave him little distinction. He was a homely and very -uncultured person; and while the approaching middle of the century was -bringing a marked improvement to country ministers as a class, -mentally and socially, he had stood still. - -He was ushered into a small panelled room in which he waited alone for -a few minutes, his hat on his knee. Then there was a movement outside, -and a lady came in, whose appearance let loose upon him all those -devils of apprehension which had hovered about him as he made his way -from his manse to the chair on which he sat. He rose, stricken yet -resolute, with the cold forlorn courage which is the bravest thing in -the world. - -As Madam Flemington entered, she took possession of the room to the -exclusion of everything else, and the minister felt as if he had no -right to exist. Her eyes, meeting his, reflected the idea. - -Christian Flemington carried with her that atmosphere which enwraps a -woman who has been much courted by men, and, though she was just over -forty-two, and a grandmother, the most inexperienced observer might -know how strongly the fires of life were burning in her still. An -experienced one would be led to think of all kinds of disturbing -subjects by her mere presence; intrigue, love, power--a thousand -abstract yet stirring things, far, far remote from the weather-beaten -house which was the incongruous shell of this compelling personality. -Dignity was hers in an almost appalling degree, but it was a quality -unlike the vulgar conception of it; a dignity which could be all -things besides distant; unscrupulous in its uses, at times rather -brutal, outspoken, even jovial; born of absolute fearlessness, and -conveying the certainty that its possessor would speak and act as she -chose, because she regarded encroachment as impossible and had the -power of cutting the bridge between herself and humanity at will. That -power was hers to use and to abuse, and she was accustomed to do both. -In speech she could have a plain coarseness which has nothing to do -with vulgarity, and is, indeed, scarcely compatible with it; a -coarseness which is disappearing from the world in company with many -better and worse things. - -She moved slowly, for she was a large woman and had never been an -active one; but the bold and steady brilliance of her eyes, which the -years had not faded, suggested swift and sudden action in a way that -was disconcerting. She had the short, straight nose common to feline -types, and time, which had spared her eyes, was duplicating her chin. -Her eyebrows, even and black, accentuated the heavy silver of her -abundant unpowdered hair, which had turned colour early, and an -immense ruby hung from each of her tiny ears in a setting of small -diamonds. Mr. Duthie, who noticed none of these things particularly, -was, nevertheless, crushed by their general combination. - -It was nine years before this story opens that Christian Flemington -had left France to take up her abode on the small estate of Ardguys, -which had been left to her by a distant relation. Whilst still almost -a child, she had married a man much older than herself, and her whole -wedded life had been spent at the Court of James II. of England at St. -Germain, whither her husband, a Scottish gentleman of good birth in -the exiled King's suite, had followed his master, remaining after his -death in attendance upon his widow, Mary Beatrice of Modena. - -Flemington did not long survive the King. He left his wife with one -son, who, on reaching manhood, estranged himself from his mother by an -undesirable marriage; indeed, it was immediately after this latter -event that Christian quitted her post at Court, retiring to Rouen, -where she lived until the possession of Ardguys, which she inherited a -few months later, gave her a home of her own. - -Different stories were afloat concerning her departure. Many people -said that she had gambled away the greater part of her small fortune -and was forced to retrench in some quiet place; others, that she had -quarrelled with, and been dismissed by, Mary Beatrice. Others, again, -declared that she had been paid too much attention by the young -Chevalier de St. George and had found it discreet to take herself out -of his way; but the believers in this last theory were laughed to -scorn; not because the world saw anything strange in the Chevalier's -alleged infatuation, but because it was quite sure that Christian -Flemington would have acted very differently in the circumstances. But -no one could be certain of the truth: the one certain thing was that -she was gone and that since her retreat to Rouen she had openly -professed Whig sympathies. She had been settled at Ardguys, where she -kept her political leanings strictly to herself, for some little time, -when news came that smallpox had carried off her son and his -undesirable wife, and, as a consequence, their little boy was sent -home to the care of his Whig grandmother, much against the will of -those Jacobites at the Court of St. Germain who were still interested -in the family. But as nobody's objection was strong enough to affect -his pocket, the child departed. - -'Madam' Flemington, as she was called by her few neighbours, was in -correspondence with none of her old friends, and none of these had the -least idea what she felt about her loss or about the prospect of the -child's arrival. She was his natural guardian, and, though so many -shook their heads at the notion of his being brought up by a rank -Whig, no one was prepared to relieve her of her responsibility. Only -Mary Beatrice, mindful of the elder Flemington's faithful services to -James, granted a small pension for the boy's upbringing from her -meagre private purse; but as this was refused by Christian, the matter -ended. And now, in the year of grace 1727, young Archie Flemington was -a boy of eight, and the living cause of the Rev. William Duthie's -present predicament. - -Madam Flemington and the minister sat opposite to each other, silent. -He was evidently trying to make a beginning of his business, but his -companion was not in a mood to help him. He was a person who wearied -her, and she hated red hair; besides which, she was an Episcopalian -and out of sympathy with himself and his community. She found him -common and limited, and at the present moment, intrusive. - -"It's sma' pleasure I have in coming to Ardguys the day," he began, -and then stopped, because her eyes paralyzed his tongue. - -"You are no flatterer," said she. - -But the contempt in her voice braced him. - -"Indeed, that I am not, madam," he replied; "neither shall it be said -of me that I gang back from my duty. Nane shall assail nor make a mock -of the Kirk while I am its minister." - -"Who has made a mock of the Kirk, my good man?" - -"Airchie." - -The vision of her eight-year-old grandson going forth, like a young -David, to war against the Presbyterian stronghold, brought back Madam -Flemington's good-humour. - -"Ye may smile, madam," said Duthie, plunged deeper into the vernacular -by agitation, "ay, ye may lauch. But it ill beseems the grey hair on -yer pow." - -Irony always pleased her and she laughed outright, showing her strong -white teeth. It was not only Archie and the Kirk that amused her, but -the whimsical turn of her own fate which had made her hear such an -argument from a man. It was not thus that men had approached her in -the old days. - -"You are no flatterer, Mr. Duthie, as I said before." - -He looked at her with uncomprehending eyes. - -A shout, as of a boy playing outside, came through the window, and a -bunch of cattle upon the slope cantered by with their tails in the -air. Evidently somebody was chasing them. - -"Let me hear about Archie," said the lady, recalled to the main point -by the sight. - -"Madam, I would wish that ye could step west to the manse wi' me and -see the evil abomination at my gate. It would gar ye blush." - -"I am obliged to you, sir. I had not thought to be put to that -necessity by one of your cloth." - -"Madam----" - -"Go on, Mr. Duthie. I can blush without going to the manse for it." - -"An evil image has been set up upon my gate," he continued, raising -his voice as though to cry down her levity, "an idolatrous picture. I -think shame that the weans ganging by to the schule should see it. But -I rejoice that there's mony o' them doesna' ken wha it is." - -"Fie, Mr. Duthie! Is it Venus?" - -"It has idolatrous garments," continued he, with the loud monotony of -one shouting against a tempest, "and a muckle crown on its head----" - -"Then it is not Venus," observed she. "Venus goes stripped." - -"It is the Pope of Rome," went on Mr. Duthie; "I kent him when I saw -the gaudy claes o' him and the heathen vanities on his pow. I kent it -was himsel'! And it was written at the foot o' him, forbye that. Ay, -madam, there was writing too. There was a muckle bag out frae his mou' -wi' wicked words on it! 'Come awa' to Babylon wi' me, Mr. Duthie.' I -gar'd the beadle run for water and a clout, for I could not thole that -sic' a thing should be seen." - -"And you left the Pope?" said Madam Flemington. - -"I did," replied the minister. "I would wish to let ye see to whatlike -misuse Airchie has put his talents." - -"And how do you know it was Archie's work?" - -"There's naebody hereabouts but Airchie could have made sic' a thing. -The beadle tell't me that he saw him sitting ahint the whins wi' his -box of paint as he gae'd down the manse road, and syne when he came -back the image was there." - -As he finished his sentence the door opened and a small figure was -arrested on the threshold by the sight of him. The little boy paused, -disconcerted and staring, and a faint colour rose in his olive face. -Then his glum look changed to a smile in which roguery, misgiving, and -an intense malicious joy were blended. He looked from one to the -other. - -"Archie, come in and make your reverence to Mr. Duthie," said Madam -Flemington, who had all at once relapsed into punctiliousness. - -Archie obeyed. His skin and his dark eyes hinted at his mother's -French blood, but his bow made it a certainty. - -The minister offered no acknowledgment. - -If Archie had any doubt about the reason of Mr. Duthie's visit, it did -not last long. The minister was not a very stern man in daily life, -but now the Pope and Madam Flemington between them had goaded him off -his normal peaceable path, and his expression bade the little boy -prepare for the inevitable. Archie reflected that his grandmother was -a disciplinarian, and his mind went to a cupboard in the attics where -she kept a cane. But the strain of childish philosophy which ran -through his volatile nature was of a practical kind, and it reminded -him that he must pay for his pleasures, and that sometimes they were -worth the expense. Even in the grip of Nemesis he was not altogether -sorry that he had drawn that picture. - -Madam Flemington said nothing, and Mr. Duthie beckoned to him to come -nearer. - -"Child," said he, "you have put an affront upon the whole o' the folk -of this parish. You have raised up an image to be a scandal to the -passers-by. You have set up a notorious thing in our midst, and you -have caused words to issue from its mouth that the very kirk-officer, -when he dichted it out wi' his clout, thought shame to look upon. I -have jaloused it right to complain to your grandmother and to warn -her, that she may check you before you bring disgrace and dismay upon -her and upon her house." - -Archie's eyes had grown rounder as he listened, for the pomp of the -high-sounding words impressed him with a sense of importance, and he -was rather astonished to find that any deed of his own could produce -such an effect. He contemplated the minister with a curious detachment -that belonged to himself. Then he turned to look at his grandmother, -and, though her face betrayed no encouragement, the subtle smile he -had worn when he stood at the door appeared for a moment upon his -lips. - -Mr. Duthie saw it. Madam Flemington had not urged one word in defence -of the culprit, but, rightly or wrongly, he scented lack of sympathy -with his errand. He turned upon her. - -"I charge you--nay, I demand it of you," he exclaimed--"that you root -out the evil in yon bairn's nature! Tak' awa' from him the foolish toy -that he has put to sic' a vile use. I will require of you----" - -"Sir," said Madam Flemington, rising, "I have need of nobody to teach -me how to correct my grandson. I am obliged to you for your visit, but -I will not detain you longer." - -And almost before he realized what had happened, Mr. Duthie found -himself once more upon the stone steps of Ardguys. - -Archie and his grandmother were left together in the panelled room. -Perhaps the boy's hopes were raised by the abrupt departure of his -accuser. He glanced tentatively at her. - -"You will not take away my box?" he inquired. - -"No." - -"Mr. Duthie has a face like this," he said airily, drawing his small -features into a really brilliant imitation of the minister. - -The answer was hardly what he expected. - -"Go up to the cupboard and fetch me the cane," said Madam Flemington. - -It was a short time later when Archie, rather sore, but still -comforted by his philosophy, sat among the boughs of a tree farther up -the hill. It was a favourite spot of his, for he could look down -through the light foliage over the roof of Ardguys and the Kilpie burn -to the rough road ascending beyond them. The figure of the retreating -Mr. Duthie had almost reached the top and was about to be lost in the -whin-patch across the strath. The little boy's eyes followed him -between the yellowing leaves of the tree which autumn was turning into -the clear-tinted ghost of itself. He had not escaped justice, and the -marks of tears were on his face; but they were not rancorous tears, -whose traces live in the heart long after the outward sign of their -fall has gone. They were tears forced from him by passing stress, and -their sources were shallow. Madam Flemington could deal out punishment -thoroughly, but she was not one of those who burn its raw wounds with -sour words, and her grandson had not that woeful sense of estrangement -which is the lot of many children when disciplined by those they love. -Archie adored his grandmother, and the gap of years between them was -bridged for him by his instinctive and deep admiration. She was no -companion to him, but she was a deity, and he had never dreamed of -investing her with those dull attributes which the young will tack on -to those who are much their seniors, whether they possess them or not. -Mr. Duthie, who had just reached middle life, seemed a much older -person to Archie. - -He felt in his pocket for the dilapidated box which held his chief -treasures--those dirty lumps of paint with which he could do such -surprising things. No, there was not very much black left, and he must -contrive to get some more, for the adornment of the other manse -gatepost was in his mind. He would need a great deal of black, because -this time his subject would be the devil; and there should be the -same--or very nearly the same--invitation to the minister. - - - -CHAPTER II - -JETSAM - -EIGHTEEN years after the last vestige of Archie's handiwork had -vanished under the beadle's 'clout' two gentlemen were sitting in the -library of a square stone mansion at the eastern end of the county of -Angus. It was evening, and they had drawn their chairs up to a -fireplace in which the flames danced between great hobs of polished -brass, shooting the light from their thrusting tongues into a lofty -room with drawn curtains and shelves of leather-bound books. Though -the shutters were closed, the two men could hear, in the pauses of -talk, a continuous distant roaring, which was the sound of surf -breaking upon the bar outside the harbour of Montrose, three miles -away. A small mahogany table with glasses and a decanter stood at Lord -Balnillo's elbow, and he looked across at his brother James (whose -life, as a soldier, had kept him much in foreign countries until the -previous year) with an expression of mingled good-will and patronage. - -David Logie was one of the many Scottish gentlemen of good birth who -had made the law his profession, and he had just retired from the -Edinburgh bench, on which, as Lord Balnillo, he had sat for hard upon -a quarter of a century. His face was fresh-coloured and healthy, and, -though he had not put on so much flesh as a man of sedentary ways who -has reached the age of sixty-two might expect to carry, his main -reason for retiring had been the long journeys on horseback over -frightful roads, which a judge's duties forced him to take. Another -reason was his estate of Balnillo, which was far enough from Edinburgh -to make personal attention to it impossible. His wife Margaret, whose -portrait hung in the dining-room, had done all the business for many -years; but Margaret was dead, and perhaps David, who had been a -devoted husband, felt the need of something besides the law to fill up -his life. He was a lonely man, for he had no children, and his brother -James, who sat opposite to him, was his junior by twenty-five years. -For one who had attained to his position, he was slow and curiously -dependent on others; there was a turn about the lines of his -countenance which suggested fretfulness, and his eyes, which had -looked upon so many criminals, could be anxious. He was a considerate -landlord, and, in spite of the times in which he lived and the bottle -at his elbow, a person of very sober habits. - -James Logie, who had started his career in Lord Orkney's regiment of -foot with the Scots Brigade in Holland, had the same fresh complexion -as his brother and the same dark blue eyes; but they were eyes that -had a different expression, and that seemed to see one thing at a -time. He was a squarer, shorter man than Lord Balnillo, quicker of -speech and movement. His mouth was a little crooked, for the centre of -his lower lip did not come exactly under the centre of the upper one, -and this slight mistake on the part of Nature had given his face a not -unpleasant look of virility. Most people who passed James gave him a -second glance. Both men were carefully dressed and wore fine cambric -cravats and laced coats; and the shoes of the judge, which rested on -the fender, were adorned by gilt buckles. - -They had been silent for some time, as people are who have come to the -same conclusion and find that there is no more to say, and in the -quietness the heavy undercurrent of sound from the coast seemed to -grow more insistent. - -"The bar is very loud to-night, Jamie," said Lord Balnillo. "I doubt -but there's bad weather coming, and I am loth to lose more trees." - -"I see that the old beech by the stables wants a limb," observed the -other. "That's the only change about the place that I notice." - -"There'll be more yet," said the judge. - -"You've grown weather-wise since you left Edinburgh, David." - -"I had other matters to think upon there," answered Balnillo, with -some pomp. - -James smiled faintly, making the little twist in his lip more -apparent. - -"Come out to the steps and look at the night," said he, snatching, -like most restless men, at the chance of movement. - -They went out through the hall. James unbarred the front door and the -two stood at the top of the flight of stone steps. - -The entrance to Balnillo House faced northward, and a wet wind from -the east, slight still, but rising, struck upon their right cheeks and -carried the heavy muffled booming in through the trees. Balnillo -looked frowning at their tops, which had begun to sway; but his -brother's attention was fixed upon a man's figure, which was emerging -from the darkness of the grass park in front of them. - -"Who is that?" cried the judge, as the footsteps grew audible. - -"It's a coach at the ford, ma lord--a muckle coach that's couped i' -the water! Wully an' Tam an' Andrew Robieson are seekin' to ca' it -oot, but it's fast, ma lord----" - -"Is there anyone in it?" interrupted James. - -"Ay, there was. But he's oot noo." - -"Where is he?" - -"He'll na' get forward the night," continued the man. "Ane of the -horse is lame. He cursin', ma lord, an' nae wonder--he can curse -bonnie! Robieson's got his wee laddie wi' him, and he gar'd the loonie -put his hands to his lugs. He's an elder, ye see." - -The judge turned to his brother. It was not the first time that the -ford in the Den of Balnillo had been the scene of disaster, for there -was an unlucky hole in it, and the state of the roads made storm-bound -and bedraggled visitors common apparitions in the lives of country -gentlemen. - -"If ye'll come wi' me, ma lord, ye'll hear him," said the labourer, to -whom the profane victim of the ford was evidently an object of -admiration. - -Balnillo looked down at his silk stockings and buckled shoes. - -"I should be telling the lasses to get a bed ready," he remarked -hurriedly, as he re-entered the house. - -James was already throwing his leg across the fence, though it was -scarcely the cursing which attracted him, for he had heard oaths to -suit every taste in his time. He hurried across the grass after the -labourer. The night was not very dark, and they made straight for the -ford. - -The Den of Balnillo ran from north to south, not a quarter of a mile -from the house, and the long chain of miry hollows and cart-ruts which -did duty for a high road from Perth to Aberdeen plunged through it at -the point for which the men were heading. It was a steep ravine filled -with trees and stones, through which the Balnillo burn flowed and fell -and scrambled at different levels on its way to join the Basin of -Montrose, as the great estuary of the river Esk was called. The ford -lay just above one of the falls by which the water leaped downwards, -and the dense darkness of the surrounding trees made it difficult for -Captain Logie to see what was happening as he descended into the black -well of the Den. He could distinguish a confusion of objects by the -light of the lantern which his brother's men had brought and set upon -a stone; the ford itself reflected nothing, for it was churned up into -a sea of mud, in which, as Logie approached, the outline of a -good-sized carriage, lying upon its side, became visible. - -"Yonder's the captain coming," said a voice. - -Someone lifted the lantern, and he found himself confronted by a tall -young man, whose features he could not see, but who was, no doubt, the -expert in language. - -"Sir," he said, "I fear you have had a bad accident. I am come from -Lord Balnillo to find out what he can do for you." - -"His lordship is mighty good," replied the young man, "and if he could -force this mud-hole--which, I am told, belongs to him--to yield up my -conveyance, I should be his servant for life." - -There was a charm and softness in his voice which nullified the brisk -impertinence of his words. - -"I hope you are not hurt," said James. - -"Not at all, sir. Providence has spared me. But He has had no mercy -upon one of my poor nags, which has broken its knees, nor on my -stock-in-trade, which is in the water. I am a travelling painter," he -added quickly, "and had best introduce myself. My name is Archibald -Flemington." - -The stranger had a difficulty in pronouncing his _r's_; he spoke them -like a Frenchman, with a purring roll. - -The other was rather taken aback. Painters in those days had not the -standing in society that they have now, but the voice and manner were -unmistakably those of a man of breeding. Even his freedom was not the -upstart licence of one trying to assert himself, but the easy -expression of a roving imagination. - -"I should introduce myself too," said Logie. "I am Captain James -Logie, Lord Balnillo's brother. But we must rescue -your--your--baggage. Where is your postilion?" - -Flemington held up the lantern again, and its rays fell upon a man -holding the two horses which were standing together under a tree. -James went towards them. - -"Poor beast," said he, as he saw the knees of one of the pair, "he -would be better in a stall. Andrew Robieson, send your boy to the -house for a light, and then you can guide them to the stables." - -Meanwhile, the two other men had almost succeeded in getting the -carriage once more upon its wheels, and with the help of Flemington -and Logie, it was soon righted. They decided to leave it where it was -for the night, and it was dragged a little aside, lest it should prove -a pitfall to any chance traveller who might pass before morning. - -The two gentlemen went towards the house together, and the men -followed, carring Flemington's possessions and the great square -package containing his canvases. - -When they entered the library Lord Balnillo was standing with his back -to the fire. - -"I have brought Mr. Flemington, brother," said Logie, "his coach has -come to grief in the Den." - -Archie stopped short, and putting his heels together, made much the -same bow as he had made to Mr. Duthie eighteen years before. - -A feeling of admiration went through James as the warm light of the -house revealed the person of his companion, and something in the -shrewd wrinkles round his brother's unimpressive eyes irritated him. -He felt a vivid interest in the stranger, and the cautious old man's -demeanour seemed to have raised the atmosphere of a law-court round -himself. He was surveying the new-comer with stiff urbanity. - -But Archie made small account of it. - -"Sir," said Balnillo, with condescension, "if you will oblige me by -making yourself at home until you can continue your road, I shall take -myself for fortunate." - -"My lord," replied Archie, "if you knew how like heaven this house -appears to me after the bottomless pit in your den, you might take -yourself for the Almighty." - -Balnillo gave his guest a critical look, and was met by all the soft -darkness of a pair of liquid brown eyes which drooped at the outer -corners, and were set under thick brows following their downward -lines. Gentleness, inquiry, appeal, were in them, and a quality which -the judge, like other observers, could not define--a quality that sat -far, far back from the surface. In spite of the eyes, there was no -suggestion of weakness in the slight young man, and his long chin gave -his olive face gravity. Speech and looks corresponded so little in him -that Balnillo was bewildered; but he was a hospitable man, and he -moved aside to make room for Archie on the hearth. The latter was a -sorry sight, as far as mud went; for his coat was splashed, and his -legs, from the knee down, were of the colour of clay. He held his -hands out to the blaze, stretching his fingers as a cat stretches her -claws under a caressing touch. - -"Sit down and put your feet to the fire," said the judge, drawing -forward one of the large armchairs, "and James, do you call for -another glass. When did you dine, Mr. Flemington?" - -"I did not dine at all, my lord. I was anxious to push on to Montrose, -and I pushed on to destruction instead." - -He looked up with such a whimsical smile at his own mishaps that -Balnillo found his mouth widening in sympathy. - -"I will go and tell them to make some food ready," said the captain, -in answer to a sign from his brother. - -Balnillo stood contemplating the young man; the lines round his eyes -were relaxing a little; he was fundamentally inquisitive, and his -companion matched no type he had ever seen. He was a little disturbed -by his assurance, yet his instinct of patronage was tickled by the -situation. - -"I am infinitely grateful to you," said Archie. "I know all the inns -in Brechin, and am very sensible how much better I am likely to dine -here than there. You are too kind." - -"Then you know these parts?" - -"My home is at the other end of the county--at Ardguys." - -"I am familiar with the name," said Balnillo, "but until lately, I -have been so much in Edinburgh that I am out of touch with other -places. I am not even aware to whom it belongs." - -"It is a little property, my lord--nothing but a few fields and a -battered old house. But it belongs to my grandmother Flemington, who -brought me up. She lives very quietly." - -"Indeed, indeed," said the judge, his mind making a cast for a clue as -a hound does for the scent. - -He was not successful. - -"I had not taken you for a Scot," he said, after a moment. - -"I have been told that," said Archie; "and that reminds me that it -would be proper to tell your lordship what I am. I am a painter, and -at this moment your hall is full of my paraphernalia." - -Lord Balnillo did not usually show his feelings, but the look which, -in spite of himself, flitted across his face, sent a gleam of -entertainment through Archie. - -"You are surprised," he observed, sighing. "But when a man has to mend -his fortunes he must mend them with what tools he can. Nor am I -ashamed of my trade." - -"There is no need, Mr. Flemington," replied the other, with the -measured benevolence he had sometimes used upon the bench; "what you -tell me does you honour--much honour, sir." - -"Then you did not take me for a painter any more than for a Scot?" -said Archie, smiling at his host. - -"I did not, sir," said the judge shortly. He was not accustomed to be -questioned by his witnesses and he had the uncomfortable sensation of -being impelled, in spite of a certain prejudice, to think moderately -well of his guest. - -"I have heard tell of your lordship very often," said the latter, -suddenly, "and I know very well into what good hands I have fallen. I -could wish that all the world was more like yourself." - -He turned his head and stared wistfully at the coals. - -Balnillo could not make out whether this young fellow's assurance or -his humility was the real key-note to the man. But he liked some of -his sentiments well enough. Archie wore his own hair, and the old man -noticed how silky and fine the brown waves were in the firelight. They -were so near his hand as their owner leaned forward that he could -almost have stroked them. - -"Are you going further than Montrose?" he inquired. - -"I had hoped to cozen a little employment out of Aberdeen," replied -Flemington, "but it is a mere speculation. I have a gallery of the -most attractive canvases with me--women, divines, children, -magistrates, provosts--all headless and all waiting to see what faces -chance and I may fit on to their necks. I have one lady--an angel, I -assure you, my lord!--a vision of green silk and white -roses--shoulders like satin--the hands of Venus!" - -Balnillo was further bewildered. He knew little about the arts and -nothing about artists. He had looked at many a contemporary portrait -without suspecting that the original had chosen, as sitters often did, -an agreeable ready-made figure from a selection brought forward by a -painter, on which to display his or her countenance. It was a custom -which saved the trouble of many sittings and rectified much of the -niggardliness or over-generosity of Nature. - -"I puzzle you, I see," added Archie, laughing, "and no doubt the hair -of Van Dyck would stand on end at some of our modern doings. But I am -not Van Dyck, unhappily, and in common with some others I do half my -business before my sitters ever see me. A client has only to choose a -suitable body for his own head, and I can tell you that many are -thankful to have the opportunity." - -"I had no idea that portraits were done like that," said Lord -Balnillo; "I never heard of such an arrangement before." - -"But you do not think it wrong, I hope?" exclaimed Flemington, the -gaiety dying out of his face. "There is no fraud about it! It is not -as if a man deceived his sitter." - -The half-petulant distress in his voice struck Balnillo, and almost -touched him; there was something so simple and confiding in it. - -"It might have entertained your lordship to see them," continued -Archie ruefully. "I should have liked to show you the strange company -I travel with." - -"So you shall, Mr. Flemington," said the old man. "It would entertain -me very greatly. I only fear that the lady with the white roses may -enslave me," he added, with rather obvious jocosity. - -"Indeed, now is the time for that," replied Archie, his face lighting -up again, "for I hope she may soon wear the head of some fat town -councillor's wife of Aberdeen." - -As he spoke Captain Logie returned with the news that dinner was -prepared. - -"I have been out to the stable to see what we could do for your -horses," said he. - -"Thank you a thousand times, sir," exclaimed Archie. - -Lord Balnillo watched his brother as he led the painter to the door. - -"I think I will come, too, and sit with Mr. Flemington while he eats," -he said, after a moment's hesitation. - -A couple of hours later Archie found himself in a comfortable bedroom. -His valise had been soaked in the ford, and a nightshirt of Lord -Balnillo's was warming at the fire. When he had put it on he went and -looked at himself in an old-fashioned mirror which hung on the wall. -He was a good deal taller than the judge, but it was not his own image -that caused the indescribable expression on his face. - - - -CHAPTER III - -A COACH-AND-FIVE - -ARCHIE sat in his bedroom at a table. The window was open, for it was -a soft October afternoon, and he looked out meditatively at the -prospect before him. - -The wind that had howled in the night had spent itself towards -morning, and by midday the tormented sky had cleared and the curtain -of cloud rolled away, leaving a mellow sun smiling over the Basin of -Montrose. He had never been within some miles of Balnillo, and the -aspect of this piece of the country being new to him, his painter's -eye rested appreciatively on what he saw. - -Two avenues of ancient trees ran southward, one on either side of the -house, and a succession of grass fields sloped away before him between -these bands of timber to the tidal estuary, where the water lay blue -and quiet with the ribbon of the South Esk winding into it from the -west. Beyond it the low hills with their gentle rise touched the -horizon; nearer at hand the beeches and gean-trees, so dear to Lord -Balnillo's heart, were red and gold. Here and there, where the gale -had thinned the leaves, the bareness of stem and bough let in glimpses -of the distant purple which was the veil of the farther atmosphere. To -the east, shut out from his sight by all this wood, was the town of -Montrose, set, with its pointed steeple, like the blue silhouette of -some Dutch town, between the Basin and the North Sea. - -A pen was in Flemington's hand, and the very long letter he had just -written was before him. - - - "BALNILLO HOUSE. - -"MADAM, MY DEAR GRANDMOTHER, - -"I beg you to look upon the address at the head of this letter, and to -judge whether fortune has favoured your devoted grandson. - -"I am _on the very spot_, and, what is more, seem like to remain there -indefinitely. Could anything in this untoward world have fallen out -better? Montrose is a bare three miles from where I sit, and I can -betake myself there on business when necessary, while I live as -secluded as I please, cheek by jowl with the very persons whose -acquaintance I had laid so many plots to compass. My dear grandmother, -could you but have seen me last night, when I lay down after my -labours, tricked out in my worshipful host's nightshirt! Though the -honest man is something of a fop in his attire, his arms are not so -long as mine, and the fine ruffles on the sleeves did little more than -adorn my elbows, which made me feel like a lady till I looked at my -skirts. Then I felt more like a highlandman. But I am telling you only -effects when you are wanting causes. - -"I changed horses at Brechin, having got so far in safety just after -dark, and went on towards Montrose, with the wind rising and never a -star to look comfort at me through the coach window. Though I knew we -must be on the right road, I asked my way at every hovel we passed, -and was much interested when I was told that I was at the edge of my -Lord Balnillo's estate, and not far from his house. - -"The road soon afterwards took a plunge into the very vilest place I -ever saw--a steep way scarcely fit for a cattle-road, between a mass -of trees. I put out my head and heard the rushing of water. Oh, what a -fine thing memory is! I remembered having heard of the Den of Balnillo -and being told that it was near Balnillo house, and I judged we must -be there. Another minute and we were clattering among stones; the -water was up to the axle and we rocked like a ship. One wheel was -higher than the other, and we leaned over so that I could scarcely -sit. Then I was inspired. I threw myself with all my weight against -the side, and dragged so much of my cargo of canvases as I could lay -hold of with me. There was a great splash and over we went. It was -mighty hard work getting out, for the devil caused the door to stick -fast, and I had to crawl through the window at that side of the coach -which was turned to the sky, like a roof. I hope I may never be -colder. We turned to and got the horses out and on to dry ground, and -the postilion, a very frog for slime and mud, began to shout, which -soon produced a couple of men with a lantern. I shouted too, and did -my poor best in the way of oaths to give the affair all the colour of -reality I could, and I believe I was successful. The noise brought -more people about us, and with them my lord's brother, Captain Logie, -hurrying to the rescue with a fellow who had run to the house with -news of our trouble. The result was that we ended our night, the coach -with a cracked axle and a hole in the panel, the postilion in the -servants' hall with half a bottle of good Scots whisky inside him, the -horses--one with a broken knee--in the stable, and myself, as I tell -you, in his lordship's nightshirt. - -"I promise you that I thought myself happy when I got inside the -mansion--a solemn block, with a grand manner of its own and Corinthian -pillars in the dining-room. His lordship was on the hearthrug, as -solemn as his house, but with a pinched, precise look which it has not -got. He was no easy nut to crack, and it took me a little time to -establish myself with him, but the good James, his brother, left us a -little while alone, and I made all the way I could in his favour. I -may have trouble with the old man, and, at any rate, must be always at -my best with him, for he seems to me to be silly, virtuous and cunning -all at once. He is vain, too, and suspicious, and has seen so many -wicked people in his judicial career that I must not let him confound -me with them. I could see that he had difficulty in making my -occupation and appearance match to his satisfaction. He wears a -mouse-coloured velvet coat, and is very nice in the details of his -dress. I should like you to see him--not because he would amuse you, -but because it would entertain me so completely to see you together. - -"James, his brother, is cut to a very different pattern. He is many -years younger than his lordship--not a dozen years older than myself, -I imagine--and he has spent much of his life with Lord Orkney's -regiment in Holland. There is something mighty attractive in his face, -though I cannot make out what it is. It is strange that, though he -seems to be a much simpler person than the old man, I feel less able -to describe him. I have had much talk with him this morning, and I -don't know when I have liked anyone better. - -"And now comes the triumph of well-doing--the climax to which all this -faithful record leads. I am to paint his lordship's portrait (in his -Judge's robes), and am installed here definitely for that purpose! I -shall be grateful if you will send me my chestnut-brown suit and a -couple of fine shirts, also the silk stockings which are in the top -shelf of my cupboard, and all you can lay hands on in the matter of -cravats. My valise was soaked through and through, and, though the -clothes I am wearing were dried in the night, I am rather short of -good coats, for I expected to end in an inn at Montrose rather than in -a gentleman's house. Though I am within reach of Ardguys, and might -ride to fetch them in person, I do not want to be absent -unnecessarily. Any _important_ letters that I may send you will go by -a hand I know of. I shall go shortly to Montrose by way of procuring -myself some small necessity, and shall search for that hand. Its owner -should not be difficult to recognize, by all accounts. And now, my -dear grandmother, I shall write myself - - "Your dutiful and devoted grandson, - - "ARCHIBALD FLEMINGTON." - - -Archie sealed his letter, and then rose and leaned far out of the -window. The sun still bathed the land, but it was getting low; the -tree-tops were thrusting their heads into a light which had already -left the grass-parks slanting away from the house. The latter part of -his morning had been taken up by his host's slow inspection of his -canvases, and he longed for a sight of his surroundings. He knew that -the brothers had gone out together, and he took his hat and stood -irresolute, with his letter in his hand, before a humble-looking -little locked case, which he had himself rescued the night before from -among his submerged belongings in the coach, hesitating whether he -should commit the paper to it or keep it upon his own person. It -seemed to be a matter for some consideration. Finally, he put it into -his pocket and went out. - -He set forth down one of the avenues, walking on a gorgeous carpet of -fallen leaves, and came out on a road running east and west, evidently -another connecting Brechin with Montrose. He smiled as he considered -it, realizing that, had he taken it last night, he would have escaped -the Den of Balnillo and many more desirable things at the same time. - -As he stood looking up and down, he heard a liquid rush, and saw to -his right a mill-dam glimmering through the trees, evidently the goal -of the waters which had soused him so lately. He strolled towards it, -attracted by the forest of stems and golden foliage reflected in the -pool, and by the slide down which the stream poured into a field, to -wind, like a little serpent, through the grass. Just where it -disappeared stood a stone mill-house abutting on the highway, from -which came the clacking of a wheel. The miller was at his door. Archie -could see that he was watching something with interest, for the man -stood out, a distinct white figure, on the steps running up from the -road to the gaping doorway in the mill-wall. - -Flemington was one of those blessed people for whom common sights do -not glide by, a mere meaningless procession of alien things. -Humanity's smallest actions had an interest for him, for he had that -love of seeing effect follow cause, which is at once priceless and -childish--priceless because anything that lifts from us the irritating -burden of ourselves for so much as a moment is priceless; and childish -because it is a survival of the years when all the universe was new. -Priceless yet again, because it will often lead us down unexpected -side-tracks of knowledge in a world in which knowledge is power. - -He sat down on the low wall bounding the mill-field, for he was -determined to know what the miller was staring at. Whatever it was, it -was on the farther side of a cottage built just across the road from -the mill. - -He was suddenly conscious that a bare-footed little girl with -tow-coloured hair had appeared from nowhere, and was standing beside -him. She also was staring at the house by the mill, but with -occasional furtive glances at himself. All at once the heavy drone of -a bagpipe came towards them, then the shrill notes of the chanter -began to meander up and down on the blare of sonorous sound like a -light pattern running over a dark background. The little girl removed -her eyes from the stranger and cut a caper with her bare feet, as -though she would like to dance. - -It was evident that the sounds had affected Flemington, too, but not -in the same way. He made a sharp exclamation under his breath, and -turned to the child. - -"Who is that playing?" he cried, putting out his hand. - -She jumped back and stood staring. - -"Who is that playing?" he repeated. - -She was still dumb, scrubbing one foot against her bare ankle after -the manner of the shoeless when embarrassed. - -Archie was exasperated. He rose, without further noticing the child, -and hurried towards the mill. When he had reached the place where the -stream dived through a stone arch under the road he found she was -following him. He heard the pad, pad, of her naked soles in the mud. - -All at once she was moved to answer his question. - -"Yon's Skirlin' Wattie!" she yelled after him. - -But he strode on, taking no notice; fortune was playing into his hand -so wonderfully that he was ceasing to be surprised. - -In the little yard of the cottage he found a small crowd of children, -two women, and the miller's man, collected round the strangest -assortment of living creatures he had ever seen. The name 'Skirlin' -Wattie' had conveyed something to him, and he was prepared for the -extraordinary, but his breath was almost taken away by the oddness of -what he saw. - -In the middle of the group was a stout wooden box, which, mounted on -very low wheels, was transformed into the likeness of a rough go-cart, -and to this were yoked five dogs of differing breeds and sizes. A -half-bred mastiff in the wheel of the team was taking advantage of the -halt and lay dozing, his jowl on his paws, undisturbed by the blast of -sound which poured over his head, whilst his companion, a large, -smooth-haired yellow cur, stood alert with an almost proprietary -interest in what was going on awake in his amber eyes. The couple of -collies in front of them sniffed furtively at the bystanders, and the -wire-haired terrier, which, as leader, was harnessed singly in advance -of the lot, was sharing a bannock with a newly-breeched man-child, the -sinister nature of whose squint almost made the dog's confidence seem -misplaced. - -The occupant of the cart was an elderly man, whom accident had -deprived of the lower part of his legs, both of which had been -amputated just below the knee. He had the head of Falstaff, the -shoulders of Hercules, and lack of exercise had made his thighs and -back bulge out over the sides of his carriage, even as the bag of his -pipes bulged under his elbow. He was dressed in tartan breeches and -doublet, and he wore a huge Kilmarnock bonnet with a red knob on the -top. The lower half of his face was distended by his occupation, and -at the appearance of Flemington by the gate, he turned on him, above -the billows of crimson cheek and grizzled whisker, the boldest pair of -eyes that the young man had ever met. He was a masterly piper, and as -the tune stopped a murmur of applause went through the audience. - -"Man, ye're the most mountaineous player in Scotland!" said the -miller's man, who was a coiner of words. - -"Aye, dod, am I!" replied the piper. - -"Hae?" continued the miller's man, holding out an apple. - -The beggar took it with that silent wag of the back of the head which -seems peculiar to the east coast of Scotland, and dropped it into the -cart. - -Archie handed him a sixpence. - -"Ye'll hae to gie us mair noo!" cried the squinting child, whose eyes -had seen straight enough, and who seemed to have a keen sense of -values. - -"Aye, a sang this time," added its mother. - -"Ye'll get a pucklie meal an' a bawbee gin' ye sing 'The Tod,'"* -[*Fox.] chimed in an old woman, who had suddenly put her head out of -the upper story of the cottage. - -The beggar laid down his pipes and spat on earth. Then he opened his -mouth and gave forth a voice whose volume, flexibility, and extreme -sweetness seemed incredible, considering the being from whom it -emanated. - - "There's a tod aye blinkin' when the nicht comes doon, - Blinkin' wi' his lang een, and keekin' round an' roun', - Creepin' by the farm-yaird when gloamin' is to fa', - And syne there'll be a chicken or a deuk awa'. - Aye, when the guidwife rises there's a deuk awa'! - - "There's a lass sits greetin' ben the hoose at hame, - For when the guidwife's cankered she gie's her aye the blame, - And sair the lassie's sabbin', and fast the tears fa', - For the guidwife's tynt a bonnie hen, and it's awa'. - Aye, she's no sae easy dealt wi' when her gear's awa'! - - "There's a lad aye roamin' when the day gets late, - A lang-leggit deevil wi' his hand upon the gate, - And aye the guidwife cries to him to gar the toddie fa', - For she canna thole to let her chicks an' deuks awa'. - Aye, the muckle bubbly-jock himsel' is ca'ed awa'! - - "The laddie saw the tod gae by, an' killed him wi' a stane, - And the bonnie lass wha grat sae sair she sits nae mair her lane, - But the guidwife's no contented yet--her like ye never saw, - Cries she, 'This time it is the lass, an' she's awa'!' - Aye, yon laddie's waur nor ony tod, for Jean's awa'!" - -Archie beat the top rail of the paling with so much enthusiasm that -the yellow cur began to bark. The beggar quieted him with a storm of -abuse. - -The beldame disappeared from the window, and her steps could be heard -descending the wooden stair of the cottage. She approached the cart -with a handful of meal on a platter which Skirling Wattie tilted into -an old leather bag that hung on his carriage. - -"Whaur's the bawbee?" cried the squinting child. - -A shout of laughter went up, led by Archie. - -"He kens there's nae muckle weicht o' meal, and wha' should ken it -better?" said the beggar, balancing the bag on his palm and winking at -the miller's man. - -The latter, who happened to be the child's unacknowledged parent, -disappeared behind the house. - -"One more song, and I will supply the bawbee," said Archie, throwing -another coin into the cart. - -Skirling Wattie sent a considering glance at his patron; though he -might not understand refinement, he could recognize it; and much of -his local success had come from his nice appraisement of audiences. - -"I'll gie ye Logie Kirk," said he. - - "O Logie Kirk, among the braes - I'm thinkin' o' the merry days - Afore I trod the weary ways - That led me far frae Logie. - - "Fine do I mind when I was young, - Abune thy graves the mavis sung, - And ilka birdie had a tongue - To ca' me back to Logie. - - "O Logie Kirk, tho' aye the same, - The burn sings ae remembered name, - There's ne'er a voice to cry 'Come hame - To bonnie Bess at Logie!' - - "Far, far awa' the years decline - That took the lassie wha was mine - And laid her sleepin' lang, lang syne - Among the braes at Logie." - -His voice, and the wonderful pathos of his phrasing, fascinated -Archie, but as the last cadences fell from his mouth, the beggar -snatched up the long switch with which he drove his team and began to -roar. - -"A'm awa'!" he shouted, making every wall and corner echo. "Open the -gate an' let me through, ye misbegotten bairns o' Auld Nick! Stand -back, ye clortie-faced weans, an' let me out! Round about an' up the -road! Just round about an' up the road, a' tell ye!" - -The last sentences were addressed to the dogs who were now all on -their legs and mindful of the stick whirling in the air above them. - -Archie could see that he was not included in the beggar's general -address, but, being nearest to the gate, he swung it open and the -whole equipage dashed through, the dogs guided with amazing dexterity -between the posts by their master's switch. The rapid circle they -described on the road as they were turned up the hill towards Brechin -seemed likely to upset the cart, but the beggar leaned outwards so -adroitly that none of the four wheels left the ground. As they went up -the incline he took up his pipes, and leaving the team to its own -guidance, tuned up and disappeared round the next bend in a blast of -sound. - -Flemington would have given a great deal to run after him, and could -easily have overtaken the cart, for its pace was not very formidable. -But the whole community, including the tow-headed little girl, was -watching Skirling Wattie out of sight and speculating, he knew, upon -his own identity. So he walked leisurely on till the road turned at -the top of the hill, and he was rewarded at the other side of its bend -by the sight of the beggar halting his team by a pond at which the -dogs were drinking. He threw a look around and behind him; then, as no -human creature was to be seen, he gave a loud whistle, holding up his -arm, and began to run. - -Skirling Wattie awaited him at the pond-side, and as Archie -approached, he could almost feel his bold eyes searching him from top -to toe. He stopped by the cart. - -"My name is Flemington," said he. - -"A've heard worse," replied the other calmly. - -"And I have a description of you in my pocket," continued Archie. -"Perhaps you would like to see it." - -The beggar looked up at him from under his bushy eyebrows, with a -smile of the most robust and genial effrontery that he had ever seen -on a human face. - -"A'd need to," said he. - -Archie took a folded paper from his pocket. - -"You see that signature," he said, putting his forefinger on it. - -The other reached up to take the paper. - -"No, no," said Flemington, "this never goes out of my hand." - -"That's you!" exclaimed the beggar, with some admiration. "Put it -back. A' ken it." - -He unhooked his leather bag, which hung inside the cart on its front -board. This Archie perceived to be made, apparently for additional -strength, of two thicknesses of wood. Skirling Wattie slid the inner -plank upwards, and the young man saw a couple of sealed letters hidden -behind it, one of which was addressed to himself. - -"Tak' yon," said the beggar, as the sound of a horse's tread was heard -not far off, "tak' it quick an' syne awa' ye gang! Mind ye, a gang -ilka twa days frae Montrose to Brechin, an a'm aye skirlin' as a -gang." - -"And do you take this one and have it sent on from Brechin," said -Archie hurriedly, handing him the letter he had written to Madam -Flemington. - -The other wagged the back of his head, and laid a finger against the -rim of his bonnet. - -Archie struck into the fields by the pond, and had time to drop down -behind a whin-bush before an inoffensive-looking farmer went by on his -way between the two towns. - -The beggar continued his progress, singing to himself, and Flemington, -who did not care to face the mill and the curious eyes of the -tow-headed little girl again, took a line across country back to -Balnillo. - -He hated the tow-headed little girl. - - - -CHAPTER IV - -BUSINESS - -EVENTS seemed to Flemington to be moving fast. - -Lord Balnillo dined soon after five, and during the meal the young man -tried to detach his mind from the contents of the letter lying in his -pocket and to listen to his host's talk, which ran on the portrait to -be begun next morning. - -The judge had ordered his robes to be taken out and aired carefully, -and a little room with a north aspect had been prepared for the first -sitting. The details of Archie's trade had excited the household below -stairs, and the servant who waited appeared to look upon him with the -curious mixture of awe and contempt accorded to charlatans and to -those connected with the arts. Only James seemed to remain outside the -circle of interest, like a wayfarer who pauses to watch the progress -of some wayside bargain with which he has no concern. Yet, though -Archie's occupations did not move Logie, the young man felt -intuitively that he was anything but a hostile presence. - -"With your permission I shall go early to bed to-night," said -Flemington to his host, as the three sat over their wine by the -dining-room fire and the clock's hands pointed to eight. - -"Fie!" said the judge; "you are a young man to be thinking of such -things at this hour." - -"My bones have not forgotten yesterday----" began Archie. - -"And what would you do if you had to ride the circuit, sir?" exclaimed -Balnillo, looking sideways at him like a sly old crow. "Man, James, -you and I have had other things to consider besides our bones! And -here's Mr. Flemington, who might be your son and my grandson, havering -about his bed!" - -Archie laughed aloud. - -"Captain Logie would need to have married young for that!" he cried. -"And I cannot picture your lordship as anybody's grandfather." - -"Come, Jamie, how old are you?" inquired his brother in a tone that -had a light touch of gratification. - -"I lose count nowadays," said James, sighing. "I must be near upon -eight-and-thirty, I suppose. Life's a long business, after all." - -"Yours has scarcely been long enough to have begotten me, unless you -had done so at twelve years old," observed Archie. - -"When I had to ride the circuit," began Balnillo, setting down his -glass and joining his hands across his waistcoat, "I had many a time -to stick fast in worse places than the Den yonder--ay, and to leave my -horse where he was and get forward on my clerk's nag. I've been forced -to sit the bench in another man's wig because my own had rolled in the -water in my luggage, and was a plaster of dirt--maybe never fit to be -seen again upon a Lord of Session's head." - -Logie smiled with his crooked mouth. He remembered, though he did not -mention, the vernacular rhyme written on that occasion by some -impudent member of the junior bar: - - "Auld David Balnillo gangs wantin' his wig, - And he's seekin' the loan of anither as big. - A modest request, an' there's naething agin' it, - But he'd better hae soucht a new head to put in it!" - -"It was only last year," continued his brother, "that I gave up the -saddle and the bench together." - -"That was more from choice than from necessity--at least, so I have -heard," said Archie. - -"You heard that, Mr. Flemington?" - -"My lord, do you think that we obscure country-folk know nothing? or -that reputations don't fly farther than Edinburgh? The truth is that -we of the younger generation are not made of the same stuff. That is -what my grandmother tells me so often--so often that, from force of -habit, I don't listen. But I have begun to believe it at last." - -"She is a wise woman," said Balnillo. - -"She has been a mighty attractive one," observed Archie meditatively; -"at least, so she was thought at St. Germain." - -"At St. Germain?" exclaimed the judge. - -"My grandfather died in exile with his master, and my father too," -replied Flemington quietly. - -There was a silence, and then James Logie opened his mouth to speak, -but Archie had risen. - -"Let me go, Lord Balnillo," he said. "The truth is, my work needs a -steady hand, and I mean to have it when I begin your portrait -to-morrow." - -When he had gone James took the empty seat by his brother. - -"His grandfather with the King, and he following this womanish trade!" -he exclaimed. - -"I should like to have asked him more about his father," said -Balnillo; "but----" - -"He did not wish to speak; I could see that," said James. "I like the -fellow, David, in spite of his paint-pots. I would like him much if I -had time to like anything." - -"I have been asking myself: am I a fool to be keeping him here?" said -the other. "Was I right to let a strange man into the house at such a -time? I am relieved, James. He is on the right side." - -"He keeps his ears open, brother." - -"He seems to know all about _me_," observed Balnillo. "He's a fine -lad, Jamie--a lad of fine taste; and his free tongue hasn't interfered -with his good sense. And I am relieved, as I said." - -Logie smiled again. The affection he had for his brother was of that -solid quality which accepts a character in the lump, and loves it for -its best parts. David's little vanities and vacillations, his -meticulous love of small things, were plain enough to the soldier, and -he knew well that the bench and the bar alike had found plenty to make -merry over in Balnillo. He had all the loyal feeling which the Scot of -his time bore to the head of his family, and, as his sentiments -towards him sprang from the heart rather than from the brain, it is -possible that he undervalued the sudden fits of shrewdness which would -attack his brother as headache or ague might attack another man. The -fact that David's colleagues had never made this mistake was -responsible for a career the success of which surprised many who knew -the judge by hearsay alone. Drink, detail and indecision have probably -ruined more characters than any three other influences in the world; -but the two latter had not quite succeeded with Lord Balnillo, and the -former had passed him over. - -"I wonder----" said James--"I wonder is it a good chance that has sent -him here? Could we make anything of him, David?" - -"Whisht, James!" said the other, turning his face away quickly. "You -go too fast. And, mind you, if a man has only one notion in his head, -there are times when his skull is scarce thick enough to stand between -his thoughts and the world." - -"That is true. But I doubt Flemington's mind is too much taken up with -his pictures to think what is in other men's heads." - -"Maybe," replied Balnillo; "but we'll know that better a few days -hence. I am not sorry he has gone to bed." - -"I will give him an hour to get between his blankets," said Logie, -drawing out his watch. "That should make him safe." - -Meanwhile Flemington had reached his room and was pulling his great -package of spare canvases from under his sombre four-poster. He undid -the straps which secured them and drew from between two of them a long -dark riding-coat, thrusting back the bundle into its place. He changed -his clothes and threw those he had taken off on a chair. Then he took -the little locked box he had saved so carefully from the catastrophe -of the previous night, and, standing on the bed, he laid it on the top -of the tester, which was near enough to the ceiling to prevent any -object placed upon it from being seen. He gathered a couple of -cushions from a couch, and, beating them up, arranged them between the -bedclothes, patting them into a human-looking shape. Though he meant -to lock his door and to keep the key in his pocket during the absence -he contemplated, and though he had desired the servants not to disturb -him until an hour before breakfast, he had the good habit of preparing -for the worst. - -He slipped out with the coat over his arm, turned the key and walked -softly but boldly down into the hall. He paused outside the -dining-room, listening to the hum of the brothers' voices, then -disappeared down the back-stairs. If he found the door into the -stable-yard secured he meant to call someone from the kitchen regions -to open it and to announce that he was going out to look at his -disabled horse. He would say that he intended to return through the -front door, by which Captain Logie had promised to admit him. - -Everything was quiet. The only sign of life was the shrill voice of a -maid singing in the scullery as she washed the dishes, and the house -was not shut up for the night. Through the yard he went and out -unmolested, under the great arch which supported the stable clock, and -then ran swiftly round to the front. He passed under the still lighted -windows and plunged into a mass of trees and undergrowth which headed -the eastern approach. - -Once among the friendly shadows, he put on the coat, buttoning it -closely about his neck, and took a small grey wig from one of its deep -pockets. When he had adjusted this under his hat he emerged, crossed -the avenue, dropped over the sunk wall dividing it from the fields, -and made down them till he reached the Montrose road. Through the -still darkness the sound of the Balnillo stable clock floated after -him, striking nine. - -There was not enough light to show him anything but his nearest -surroundings. The wall which bounded the great Balnillo grass-parks -was at his left hand, and by it he guided his steps, keeping a -perpetual look out to avoid stumbling over the inequalities and loose -stones, for there were no side-paths to the roads in those days. He -knew that the town was only three miles off, and that the dark stretch -which extended on his right was the Basin of Montrose. A cold snap -played in the air, reminding him that autumn, which in Scotland keeps -its mellowness late, was some way forward, and this sting in the -breath of night was indicated by a trembling of the stars in the dark -vault overhead. - -He hastened on, for time was precious. The paper which he had taken -from Skirling Wattie's hands had bid him prepare to follow Logie into -the town when dark set in, but it had been able to tell him neither at -what hour the soldier would start nor whether he would walk or ride. - -His chance in meeting the beggar so soon had put him in possession of -James's usual movements immediately, but it had given him little time -to think out many details, and the gaps in his plans had been filled -in by guesswork. He did not think James would ride, for there had been -no sound of preparation in the stable. His intention was to reach the -town first, to conceal himself by its entrance, and when James should -pass, to follow him to his destination. He had a rough map of Montrose -in his possession, and with its help he had been able to locate the -house for which he suspected him to be bound--a house known by the -party he served to be one of the meeting-places of the adherents of -Charles Edward Stuart. - -Archie's buoyancy of spirit was sufficient to keep at arm's length a -regret he could not quite banish; for he had the happy carelessness -that carries a man easily on any errand which has possibilities of -development, more from the cheerful love of chance than from -responsible feeling. His light-hearted courage and tenacity were -buried so deep under a luxuriance of effrontery, grace, and -mother-wit, and the glamour of a manner difficult to resist, that -hardly anyone but Madam Flemington, who had brought him up, suspected -the toughness of their quality. He had the refinement of a woman, yet -he had extorted the wonder of an east-coast Scotsman by his -comprehensive profanity; the expression, at times, of a timid girl, -yet he would plunge into a flood of difficulties, whose further shore -he did not trouble to contemplate; but these contrasts in him spoke of -no repression, no conscious effort. He merely rode every quality in -his character with a loose rein, and while he attempted to puzzle -nobody, he had the acuteness to know that his audience would puzzle -itself by its own conception of him. The regret which he ignored was -the regret that he was obliged to shadow a man who pleased him as much -as did James Logie. He realized how much more satisfaction he would -have got out of his present business had its object been Lord -Balnillo. He liked James's voice, his bearing, his crooked mouth, and -something intangible about him which he neither understood nor tried -to understand. The iron hand of Madam Flemington had brought him up so -consistently to his occupation that he accepted it as a part of life. -His painting he used as a means, not as an end, and the changes and -chances of his main employment were congenial to a temperament at once -boyish and capable. - -The Pleiades rode high above Taurus, and Orion's hands were coming up -over the eastern horizon as he reached the narrow street which was the -beginning of Montrose. The place was dark and ill-lit, like every -country town of those days; and here, by the North Port, as it was -called, the irregularities of the low houses, with their outside -stairs, offered a choice of odd corners in which he might wait unseen. - -He chose the narrowest part of the street, that he might see across it -the more readily, and drew back into the cavity, roofed in by the -'stairhead' of a projecting flight of steps which ran sideways up a -wall. Few people would leave the town at that hour, and those who were -still abroad were likely to keep within its limits. A wretched lamp, -stuck in a niche of an opposite building, made his position all the -more desirable, for the flicker which it cast would be sufficient to -throw up the figure of Logie should he pass beneath it. He watched a -stealthy cat cross its shine with an air of suppressed melodrama that -would have befitted a man-eating tiger, and the genial bellowing of a -couple of drunken men came down the High Street as he settled his -shoulders against the masonry at his back and resigned himself to a -probable hour of tedium. - - -Not a mile distant, James Logie was coming along the Montrose road. He -had trodden it many times in the darkness during the past weeks, and -his mind was roving far from his steps, far even from the errand on -which he was bent. He was thinking of Archie, whom he believed to be -snug in bed at Balnillo. - -He had gone out last night and landed this fantastic piece of young -humanity from the Den, as a man may land a salmon, and he had -contemplated him ever since with a kind of fascination. Flemington was -so much unlike any young man he had known that the difference half -shocked him, and though he had told his brother that he liked the -fellow, he had done so in spite of one side of himself. It was hard to -believe that but a dozen years divided them, for he had imagined -Archie much younger, and the appeal of his boyishness was a strong one -to Logie, who had had so little time for boyishness himself. His life -since he was fifteen had been merged in his profession, and the -restoration of the Stuarts had been for many years the thing nearest -to his heart. There had been one exception to this, and that had long -gone out of his life, taking his youth with it. He was scarcely a sad -man, but he had the habit of sadness, which is as hard a one to combat -as any other, and the burst of youth and buoyancy that had come in -suddenly with Archie had blown on James like a spring wind. Archie's -father and grandfather had died in exile, too, with Charles Edward's -parents. And his eyes reminded him of other eyes. - -The events that had taken place since the landing of the Prince in -July had made themselves felt all up the east coast, and the country -was Jacobite almost to a man. Charles Edward had raised his standard -at Glenfinnan, had marched on Edinburgh in the early part of -September, and had established himself in Holyrood on the surrender of -the town. After his victory over Cope at Preston Pans, he had -collected his forces on Portobello sands--thirteen regiments composed -of the Highland clans, five regiments of Lowlanders, two troops of -horse commanded by Lords Elcho and Balmerino, with two others under -Lord Kilmarnock and Lord Pitsligo. The command of the latter consisted -of Angus men armed with such weapons as they owned or could gather. - -The insurgent army had entered England in two portions: one of these -led by Lord George Murray, and one by the Prince himself, who marched -at the head of his men, sharing the fatigues of the road with them, -and fascinating the imagination of the Scots by his hopeful -good-humour and his keen desire to identify himself with his soldiers. -The two bodies had concentrated on Carlisle, investing the city, and -after a few days of defiance, the mayor displayed the white flag on -the ramparts and surrendered the town keys. After this, the Prince and -his father had been proclaimed at the market cross, in presence of the -municipality. - -But in spite of this success the signs of the times were not -consistently cheering to the Jacobite party. There had been many -desertions during the march across the border, and no sooner had the -Prince's troops left Edinburgh than the city had gone back to the Whig -dominion. At Perth and Dundee the wind seemed to be changing too, and -only the country places stuck steadily to the Prince and went on -recruiting for the Stuarts. - -Although he was aching to go south with the invaders, now that the -English were advancing in force, Logie was kept in the neighbourhood -of Montrose by the business he had undertaken. His own instincts and -inclinations were ever those of a fighter, and he groaned in spirit -over the fate which had made it his duty to remain in Angus, concerned -with recruiting and the raising of money and arms. He had not yet -openly joined the Stuarts, in spite of his ardent devotion to their -cause, because it had been represented to him that he was, for the -moment, a more valuable asset to his party whilst he worked secretly -than he could be in the field. The question that perplexed the coast -of Angus was the landing of those French supplies so sorely needed by -the half-fed, half-clothed, half-paid troops, in the face of the -English cruisers that haunted the coast; and it was these matters that -kept Logie busy. - -James knew the harbour of Montrose as men know the places which are -the scenes of the forbidden exploits of their youth. This younger son, -who was so far removed in years from the rest of his family as to be -almost like an only child, was running wild in the town among the -fisher-folk, and taking surreptitious trips across the bar when the -staid David was pursuing his respectable career at a very different -kind of bar in Edinburgh. He was the man that Montrose needed in this -emergency, and to-night he was on his way to the town; for he would -come there a couple of times in the week, as secretly as he could, to -meet one David Ferrier, a country gentleman who had joined the -regiment of six hundred men raised by Lord Ogilvie, and had been made -deputy-governor of Brechin for the Prince. - -Ferrier also was a man well calculated to serve the cause. He owned a -small property and a farm not far from the village of Edzell, situated -at the foot of a glen running up into the Grampians, and his perfect -knowledge of the country and its inhabitants of all degrees gave him -an insight into every turn of feeling that swept through it in those -troubled days. The business of his farm had brought him continually -into both Brechin and Montrose, and the shepherds, travelling -incessantly with their flocks from hill to strath, formed one of his -many chains of intelligence. He had joined Lord Ogilvie a couple of -months earlier, and, though he was now stationed at Brechin with a -hundred men of his corps, he would absent himself for a night at a -time, staying quietly at Montrose in the house of a former dependent -of his own, that he might keep an eye upon the movements of an English -ship. - -The Government sloop-of-war _Venture_ had come into the harbour, -carrying sixteen guns and about eighty men, and had anchored south of -the town, in the strait made by the passage of the River Esk into the -sea. Montrose, apparently, was to suffer for the work she had done as -a port for Stuart supplies, for the _Venture_, lying at a convenient -distance just under the fishing village of Ferryden, had fired heavily -on the town, though no Jacobite troops were there. The commander had -unrigged the shipping and burned two trading barques whose owners were -townsmen, and he had landed a force at the fort, which had captured -the town guns and had carried them on board a vessel lying at the -quay. - -Ferrier looked with complete trust to James Logie and his brother -Balnillo. The old man, during his judicial career, had made some -parade of keeping himself aloof from politics; and as his retirement -had taken place previous to the landing of the Prince, he had sunk the -public servant in the country gentleman before the world of -politicians began to divide the sheep from the goats. For some time -few troubled their heads about the peaceable and cautious old Lord of -Session, whose inconspicuous talents were vegetating among the trees -and grass-parks that the late Lady Balnillo had husbanded so carefully -for him. As to his very much younger brother, who had been incessantly -absent from his native land, his existence was practically forgotten. -But because the Government's Secret Intelligence Department on the -east coast had remembered it at last with some suspicion, Flemington -had been sent to Montrose with directions to send his reports to its -agent in Perth. And Flemington had bettered his orders in landing -himself at Balnillo. - -As Archie heard a steady tread approaching, he shrank farther back -under the stair. He could only distinguish a middle-sized male figure -which might belong to anyone, and he followed it with straining eyes -to within a few feet of the lamp. Here it paused, and, skirting the -light patch, stepped out into the middle of the way. - -He scarcely breathed. He was not sure yet, though the man had come -nearer by half the street; but the height matched his expectation, and -the avoidance of the solitary light proved the desire for secrecy in -the person before him. As the man moved on he slipped from his shelter -and followed him, keeping just enough distance between them to allow -him to see the way he went. - -The two figures passed up the High Street, one behind the other, -Flemington shrinking close to the walls and drawing a little nearer. -Before they had gone a hundred yards, his unconscious guide turned -suddenly into one of those narrow covered-in alleys, or closes, as -they are called, which started at right angles from the main street. - -Archie dived in after him as unconcernedly as he would have dived into -the mouth of hell, had his interests taken him that way. These closes, -characteristic of Scottish towns to this day, were so long, and -burrowed under so many sightless-looking windows and doors, to emerge -in unexpected places, that he admired James's knowledge of the short -cuts of Montrose, though it seemed to him no more than natural. The -place for which he conceived him to be making was a house in the New -Wynd nicknamed the 'Happy Land,' and kept by a well-known widow for -purposes which made its insignificance an advantage. It was used, as -he had heard, by the Jacobite community, because the frequent visitors -who entered after dusk passed in without more comment from the -townspeople than could be expressed in a lifted eyebrow or a sly -nudge. It was a disconcerting moment, even to him, when the man in -front of him stopped, and what he had taken for the distant glimmer of -an open space revealed itself as a patch of whitewash with a door in -it. The close was a cul-de-sac. - -Flemington stood motionless as the other knocked at the door. Flight -was undesirable, for James might give chase, and capture would mean -the end of a piece of work of which he was justly proud. He guessed -himself to be the fleeter-footed of the two, but he knew nothing of -the town's byways, and other night-birds besides Logie might join in. -But his bold wit did not desert him, for he gave a loud drunken shout, -as like those he had heard at the North Port as he could make it, and -lurched across the close. Its other inmate turned towards him, and as -he did so Archie shouted again, and, stumbling against him, subsided -upon the paved floor. - -The door beyond them opened a little, showing a portion of a scared -face and a hand which held a light. - -"Guid sakes! what'll be wrang?" inquired a tremulous female voice. - -The man was standing over Archie, pushing him with his foot. His -answer may have reassured the questioner, but it had a different -effect upon the heap on the ground. - -"Hoot, woman! don't be a fool! It's me--Ferrier!" - - - -CHAPTER V - -"THE HAPPY LAND" - -THE door opened a little further. - -"Here," said Ferrier to the woman, "go up and bring me the roll of -unwritten paper from the table." - -"You'll no be coming in?" - -"Not now. Maybe in another hour or more." - -"But wha's yon?" said she. - -"Lord! woman, have you lived all these years in Montrose and never -seen a drunken man?" exclaimed he impatiently. "Shut the door, I'm -telling you, and get what I want. He will not trouble you. He's past -troubling anybody." - -She obeyed, and Archie heard a bolt shot on the inside. - -Though he had been startled on discovering his mistake, he now felt -comforted by it, for, being unknown to Ferrier, he was much safer with -him than he would have been with James. He raised his head and tried -to get an idea of his companion's face, but the darkness of the close -was too great to let him distinguish his features. He had discovered -where he lived by accident, but though a description of the man was in -the little box now reposing on the tester of his bed at Balnillo, he -did not know him by sight. These things were going through his mind as -the woman returned from her lodger's errand, and the door had just -been made fast again when there was a step at the close's mouth and -another man came quickly in, stopping short as he found it occupied. - -Ferrier coughed. - -"Ferrier?" said James's voice softly. "What is this?" he asked as his -foot came in contact with Archie. - -"It's a drunken brute who came roaring in here a minute syne and fell -head over heels at my door," replied the other. "The town is full of -them to-night." - -He stooped down and took Flemington by the shoulder. - -"Up you get!" he cried, shaking him. - -Archie breathed heavily and let his whole weight hang on Ferrier's -hand. - -"Haud awa' frae me, lassie!" he expostulated thickly. - -Logie laughed. - -"He must be far gone indeed to take you for a lass," he observed. - -Ferrier gave Archie a stronger shake. - -"A'll no gang hame wantin' Annie!" continued Flemington, whose humour -was beginning to find some pleasure in the situation. - -The raw vernacular that he had mastered with absolute success in -childhood was at his tongue's end still. - -"Come, come," said James. - -Ferrier moved forward, but Archie had reached out a limp hand and -taken him by the ankle. - -"Annie!" he muttered, "ma bonnie, bonnie Annie!" - -Ferrier, who had nearly fallen forward, tried to strike out with his -foot, but Archie's grip, nerveless yet clinging as a limpet, held him -fast. - -"A' tell ye, a'll nae gang hame wantin' Annie!" he repeated more -loudly. - -"He has me by the foot, damn him!" said Ferrier. - -James swore quietly but distinctly. - -"Annie! _Annie!_" roared Archie, making the silent close echo again. - -"Great heavens!" exclaimed the exasperated James, "we shall have the -whole town out of bed if this goes on! Shake him off, man, and let us -be going." - -He bent down as he spoke and groping in the darkness, found -Flemington's heels. He seized them and began to drag him backwards as -a man drags a fighting dog. He had a grip of iron. - -The effect of the sudden pull on Ferrier was to make him lose his -balance. He staggered against the side of the close, calling to Logie -to desist. - -Archie still held on with back-boneless tenacity; but as the scrape of -flint and steel cut the darkness, he knew that he had carried his -superfluous pleasantries too far. He dared not loose Ferrier's ankle -and roll to the wall, lest the action should prove him to be more -wideawake and less intoxicated than he seemed. He could only bury his -face in his sleeve. - -His next sensation was a violent stab of burning pain in his wrist -that made him draw it back with a groan. - -"I knew that would mend matters," said James grimly, as he blew out -the tiny twist of ignited tow and replaced it and the steel box in his -pocket. "Come away--this sot has wasted our time long enough. He can -sleep off his liquor as well here as anywhere else." - -"You've helped to sober him," said Ferrier, as the two men went out of -the close. - -Flemington sat up. The burn stung him dreadfully, for the saltpetre in -which the tow had been dipped added to the smart. But there was no -time to be lost, so he rose and followed again. - -Ferrier and Logie went off up the High Street, and turned down an -offshoot of it which Archie guessed to be the New Wynd, because it -answered to its position in his map of the town. He dashed to the -corner and watched them by the one light which illuminated the narrow -street till he could see them no longer. Then he flitted after them, a -soft-footed shadow, and withdrew under a friendly 'stairhead,' as he -had done at the North Port. A little farther on he could distinguish -the two ascending an outside stair to a squat building, and he heard -the sound of their knuckles on wood. Another minute and they were -admitted. - -The two captains were let into a small room in the back premises of -'The Happy Land' by a slatternly-looking woman, who disappeared when -she had given them a light. Pens and ink lay upon the table and the -smoke of lamps had blackened the ceiling. It was a wretched place, and -the sound of rough voices came now and again from other parts of the -house. James drew up a chair, and Ferrier also sat down, tossing the -roll of paper to his companion. - -"A young man called Flemington is at Balnillo painting my brother's -portrait," said Logie. "It's a pity that I have not something of his -gift for drawing." - -"Flemington----?" said the other. "There is a widow Flemington who -lives a mile or so this side of the Perthshire border; but that is the -only part of the country I do not know." - -"This is her grandson. She lived at St. Germain, and her husband was -with King James. He is a strange lad--a fine lad too. My brother seems -mightily taken up with him." - -"Where is your plan?" asked Ferrier. - -James took out a small pocket-book and laid it on the table; then he -smoothed out the roll of paper, drew the points of the compass on it, -and began to copy from the rough sketches and signs which covered the -leaf of his little book. - -Ferrier watched him in silence. - -"I could not do that were it to save my life," he said at last. - -"I learned something, campaigning by the walls of Dantzig," replied -James. - -Ferrier watched the growing of the hasty map with admiration. His own -talents for organization and tactics had given this obscure landowner -the position he held in the Prince's haphazard army, but the -professional soldier was invaluable to him. He sat wondering how he -could have got on without James. - -"See," said Logie, pushing the paper to him, "here lies the _Venture_ -off Ferryden, at the south side of the river, and here is Inchbrayock -Island. That English captain is a fool, or he would have landed some -men there. You and I will land on it, Ferrier. And now," he went on, -"the man is twice a fool, for, though he has taken the guns from the -fort and put them on board one of the unrigged ships, he has left her -beside the quay. This point that I have marked with a cross is where -she is moored. It would be idle not to make use of such folly! Why, -man, if we can carry through the work I have in my mind, we shall blow -the _Venture_ out of the water! Three nights I have skulked round the -harbour, and now I think that every close and every kennel that opens -its mouth upon it is in my head. And the island is the key to -everything." - -Logie's eyes shone in the dim room like the eyes of some animal -watching in a cave. - -"We must get possession of the ship at the quay-side," continued he. -"Then we will take a couple of the town guns and land them on -Inchbrayock. A hundred men from Brechin should be sufficient." - -"It must be done at night," said the other. - -"At night," said James, getting up and putting his hands on the back -of his chair. "And now, as soon as possible, we must go down to the -harbour and look carefully at the position of everything." - -Ferrier stood up and stretched himself, as men so often will when they -are turning over some unacknowledged intention. - -James took up the roll of paper, glanced at it and threw it down -again. - -"I see it as though it had come by inspiration!" he cried. "I see that -we have a blockhead to deal with, and when heaven sends such an -advantage to His Highness, it is not you nor I, Ferrier, who will balk -its design. You will not hang back?" - -He looked at his friend as though he were ready to spring at him. But -Ferrier went on with his own train of thought. He was a slower man -than Logie, but if he lacked his fire, he lacked none of his -resolution. - -"You are right," he said. "A man is a fool who leaves what he has -captured on the farther side of the river, who thinks, having taken -his enemy's guns from a fort, that he can let it stand empty. He has -done these follies because he knows that there are no troops in -Montrose." - -"Ay, but there are troops in Brechin!" burst out James. - -"There are troops in Brechin," repeated Ferrier slowly, "and they must -be got quietly into the town. I wish there were not eight miles of -road between the two." - -"I have not forgotten that," said James, "and to-night I mean to -remain here till daylight and then return home by the side of the -Basin. I will make my way along its shore and judge whether it be -possible for you to bring your men by that route. If you can get them -out of Brechin by the river-bank and so on along the side of the Esk, -you will avoid the road and I will be waiting for you at the fort." - -Logie had come round the little table and stood by his friend, waiting -for him to speak. - -"I will go with you," said Ferrier. "We can part below Balnillo, and -I, too, will go back to Brechin by the river. I must know every step -before I attempt to bring them in the dark. There must be no delays -when the time comes." - -James drew a long sigh of relief. He had never doubted his companion's -zeal, but his heart had been on fire with the project he carried in -it, and Ferrier's complete acceptance of it was balm to his spirit. He -was a man who spared himself nothing, mentally or physically. - -He folded the roll of paper and gave it to Ferrier. - -"Keep it," said he. "Now we must go to the harbour." - - - -CHAPTER VI - -IN DARKNESS AND IN LIGHT - -WHEN the men had disappeared into the house, Archie remained under his -stairhead considering. He had been told in his instructions to -discover two things--whether Logie was in touch with Ferrier, and -whether 'The Happy Land' was frequented by the pair. Though Ferrier -was in command of the small Jacobite force in Brechin, it was -suspected that he spent an unknown quantity of his time in Montrose. - -To the first of these questions he had already mastered the answer; it -only remained for him to be absolutely certain that the house in front -of him was 'The Happy Land.' He could not swear that he was in the New -Wynd, though he was morally certain of it, but there were marks upon -the house which would be proof of its identity. There would be a -little hole, covered by an inside sliding panel, in the door of 'The -Happy Land,' through which its inmates could see anyone who ascended -the stair without being seen themselves, and there would be the -remains of an ancient 'risp,' or tirling-pin, at one side of it. - -Archie ran lightly across the street, crept up the staircase, and -passed his palm over the wood. Yes, there was the hole, two inches -deep in the solid door. He put in his finger and felt the panel in the -farther side. Then he searched along the wall till his hand came in -contact with the jagged edge of the ancient risp. There was no ring on -it, for it had long been disused, but it hung there still--a useless -and maimed veteran, put out of action. - -He returned to his post satisfied. His discoveries had earned him the -right to go home, but he did not mean to do so. How he was going to -get back into Balnillo House, unseen, he did not know, and had not, so -far, troubled himself to imagine. Perhaps he might have to stop out -all night. He hoped not, but he was not going to meet trouble -half-way. The house would be locked, the household--with the exception -of the errant James--abed, and his own room was not upon the -ground-floor. However, these were matters for later consideration, and -he would remain where he was for a time. For all he knew, Ferrier and -Logie might combine business with pleasure by staying in 'The Happy -Land' till morning; but they were just as likely to come out within -measurable time, and then he could see where they went. He was quite -happy, as he was everywhere. - -He fell to thinking of other things: of his host, with his thin, neat -legs and velvet coat; of that 'riding the circuit' upon which the old -man valued himself so much. In his mind's eye he figured him astride -of his floundering nag at the edge of some uninviting bog in an access -of precise dismay. That was how he would have wished to paint him. His -powers of detachment were such that he became fascinated by the idea, -and awoke from it with a start to hear the footsteps of Logie and -Ferrier coming down the stairway opposite. - -They did not retrace their way up the Wynd, but went on to its end and -turned into a street leading southwards, whilst Archie slipped along -in their wake. At last they reached a wilderness of sheds and lumber, -above which stood a windmill on a little eminence, and the strong -smell of sea and tar proclaimed the region of the harbour. A light -shone clear and large across the dark space of water, touching the -moving ripples, and this Archie guessed to be the riding-light of the -_Venture_, which lay like a sullen watch-dog under Ferryden village. - -He had to go very warily, for the pair in front stopped often and -stood talking in low voices, but the bales and coils of rope and heaps -of timber with which the quays were strewn gave him cover. He could -not get close enough to them to hear what they said, but their figures -were much plainer against the background of water than they had been -in the streets, and he noted how often Logie would stretch out his -arm, pointing to the solitary light across the strait. - -There was scarcely any illumination on this side of it, and the -unrigged shipping lay in darkness as Ferrier and his friend went along -the quay and seated themselves on a windlass. Archie, drawing closer, -could hear the rustle as the former unrolled James's map. The soldier -took out his flint and steel and struck a light, covering it with his -hand, and both men bent their heads over the paper. Archie's wrist -smarted afresh as he saw it; his sleeve had rubbed the burn, and he -could feel the oozing blood. - -He crouched behind them, peering through the medley of ropes and -tackle which hung on the windlass. By standing up he could have -touched the two men. He had no idea what it was that they were -studying, but his sharp wits told him that it must be a map of some -kind, something which might concern the English ship across the -waterway. He longed to get it. His confidence in his own luck was one -of the qualities that had served him best, and his confidence in his -own speed was great and, moreover, well-placed. He knew that he had -twelve years of advantage over James, and, from the sound of Ferrier's -voice, he judged that he had the same, or more, over him. - -The temptation of chance overmastered him. He raised himself -noiselessly, leaned over the intervening tackle, and made a bold -snatch at the map, which Ferrier held whilst James was occupied with -the lighted twist of tow. - -But his luck was to fail him this time. Logie moved his hand, knocking -it against Flemington's, and the light caught the paper's edge. A soft -puff of sea-wind was coming in from over the strait, and in one moment -the sheet was ablaze. Archie snatched back his hand and fled; but the -glare of the burning paper had been bright enough to show Logie a -man's wrist, on which there was a fresh, bleeding mark. - -The bright flare of the paper only intensified the darkness for the -two astounded men, and though each was instantly on his feet and -running in the direction of the retreating footsteps, Archie had -threaded the maze of amphibious obstacles and was plunging between the -sheds into the street before either of them could get clear of the -pitfalls of the quay. - -He tore on, not knowing whither he went. His start had been a good -one, but as he paused to listen, which he did when he had gone some -way, he could hear them following. The town was so quiet that he met -nobody, and he pressed on, trusting to luck for his direction. - -Through the empty streets he went at the top of his speed, launched on -the flood of chance, and steering as best he could for the north end -of the town. Finally, an unexpected turning brought him within a few -yards of the North Port. He waited close to the spot where he had -first taken shelter, and listened; then, hearing nothing, he struck -out at a brisk walk for the country, and was soon clear of Montrose. - -He sat down by the wayside to rest. He had had a more sensational -night than he expected, and though his spirits were still good, his -ill-luck in missing the paper he had risked so much to obtain had -cooled them a little, and by the light of this disappointment he -looked rather ruefully on his poor prospects of getting to bed. It was -past midnight, and there seemed nothing to do but to return to -Balnillo and to make himself as comfortable as he could in one of the -many out-buildings which the yard by its back-door contained. The -household rose early, and at the unlocking of that door he must manage -to slip in and gain his bedroom. - -He rose, plodded home, and stole into the courtyard, where, searching -in an outhouse, he found an endurable couch on a heap of straw. On -this he spread his coat like a blanket, crawling under it, and, with a -calmness born of perfect health and perfect nerves, was soon asleep. - -When dawn broke it found him wakeful. He had not rested well, for his -burnt wrist was very sore, and the straw seemed to find it out and to -prick the wound, no matter how he might dispose his hand. He propped -himself against the wall by the open outhouse-window, whence he could -see the back door of Balnillo and watch for the moment of its first -opening. It would be neck or nothing then, for he must enter boldly, -trusting to hit on a lucky moment. - -At last the growing light began to define details of the house, -tracing them out on its great mass with an invisible pencil, and he -thought he heard a movement within. The stable-clock struck six, and -high above he could see the sun touching the slates and the stone -angles of the chimney-stacks with the first fresh ethereal beam of a -pure October morning. He inhaled its breath lovingly, and with it -there fell from him the heaviness of his uneasy night. All was well, -he told himself. His sensuous joy in the world, his love of life and -its hazards and energies came back upon him, strong, clean, and -ecstatic, and the sounds of a bolt withdrawn made him rise to his -feet. - -A maidservant came out carrying a lantern, whose beam burned with -feeble pretentiousness in the coming sunlight. She set it down by the -threshold and went past his retreat to the stable. No doubt she was -going to call the men. When she had gone by he slipped out, and in a -dozen paces was inside the house. - -Another minute and he was in his room. - -He looked with some amusement at the rough effigy of himself which he -had made in the bed overnight, and when he had flung the cushion back -to its place he got out of his clothes and lay down, sinking into the -cool luxury of the sheets with a sigh of pleasure. But he had no -desire to sleep, and when a servant came to wake him half an hour -later he was ready to get up. He rose, dressed, wrote out the detailed -description of his night's discoveries, and put the document in his -pocket to await its chance of transmission. - -A message was brought to him from Lord Balnillo as he left his room, -which begged his guest to excuse his company at breakfast. He had been -long astir, and busy with his correspondence; at eleven o'clock he -would be ready for his sitting, if that were agreeable to Mr. -Flemington. - -As Mr. Flemington realized how easily he might have met the judge as -he ran through the shuttered passage, his belief in the luck that had -used him so scurvily last night returned. - -There was no sign of James as Archie sat down to his meal, though a -second place was set at the table, and as he did not want to ask -embarrassing questions, he made no inquiry about him. Besides which, -being immoderately hungry, he was too well occupied to trouble about -anyone. - -He went out upon the terrace when he had finished. The warm greyness -of the autumn morning was lifting from the earth and it was still -early enough for long shadows to lie cool on the westward side of the -timber. As they shortened, the crystal of the dew was catching shafts -from the sun, and the parks seemed to lie waiting till the energy of -the young day should let loose the forces of life from under the -mystery of its spangled veil. Where the gean-trees glowed carmine and -orange, touches of quickening fire shot through the interstices of -their branches, and coloured like a tress of trailing forget-me-not, -the South Esk wound into the Basin of Montrose, where the tide, ebbing -beyond the town, was leaving its wet sands as a feasting-ground for -all sorts of roving birds whose crying voices came faintly to Archie, -mellowed by distance. - -Truly this was a fascinating place, with its changing element of -distant water, its great plain lines of pasture, its ordered vistas of -foliage! The passion for beauty lay deep below the tossing, driving -impulses of Flemington's nature, and it rose up now as he stood on the -yew-edged terraces of Balnillo and gazed before him. For the moment -everything in his mind was swallowed up but the abstract, fundamental -desire for perfection, which is, when all is said and done, humanity's -mainspring, its incessant though often erring guide, whose perverted -behests we call sin, whose legitimate ones we call virtue; whose very -existence is a guarantee of immortality. - -The world, this crystalline morning, was so beautiful to Archie that -he ached with the uncomprehended longing to identify himself with -perfection; to cast his body down upon the light-pervaded earth and to -be one with it, to fling his soul into the heights and depths of the -limitless encompassing ether, to be drawn into the heart of God's -material manifestation on earth--the sun. He understood nothing of -what he felt, neither the discomfort of his imprisonment of flesh, nor -the rapturous, tentative, wing-sweeps of the spirit within it. He left -the garden terrace and went off towards the Basin, with the touch of -that elemental flood of truth into which he had been plunged for a -moment fresh on his soul. The whole universe and its contents seemed -to him good--and not only good, but of consummate interest--humanity -was fascinating. His failure to snatch the map from Ferrier's hand -last night only made him smile. In the perfection of this transcendent -creation all was, and must be, well! - -His thoughts, woven of the same radiant appreciation, flew to James, -whose personality appealed to him so strongly. The gentle blood which -ran in the veins of the pair of brothers ran closer to the surface in -the younger one; and a steadfast, unostentatious gallantry of heart -seemed to be the atmosphere in which he breathed. He was one of those -whose presence in a room would always be the strongest force in it, -whether he spoke or was silent, and his voice had the tone of -something sounding over great and hidden depths. It was not necessary -to talk to him to know that he had lived a life of vicissitude, and -Archie, all unsuspected, in the watches of last night had seen a side -of him which did not show at Balnillo. His grim resourcefulness in -small things was illustrated by the raw spot on the young man's wrist. -That episode pleased Flemington's imagination--though it might have -pleased him even better had the victim been someone else; but he bore -James no malice for it, and the picture of the man haunting the dark -quays, strewn with romantic, sea-going lumber, and scheming for the -cause at his heart, whilst the light from the hostile ship trailed the -water beside him, charmed his active fancy. - -But it was not only his fancy that was at work. He knew that the -compelling atmosphere of Logie had not been created by mere fancy, -because there was something larger than himself, and larger than -anything he could understand, about the soldier. And feeling, as he -was apt to do, every little change in the mental climate surrounding -him he had guessed that Logie liked him. The thought added to the -exultation produced in him by the glory of the pure morning; and he -suddenly fell from his height as he remembered afresh that he was here -to cheat him. - -It was with a shock that he heard Skirling Wattie's pipes as he -reached the Montrose road, and saw the beggar's outlandish cart -approaching, evidently on its return journey to Montrose. His heart -beat against the report that lay in his pocket awaiting the -opportunity that Fate was bringing nearer every moment. There was -nobody to be seen as the beggar drew up beside him. The insolent -joviality that pervaded the man, his almost indecent oddness--things -which had pleased Archie yesterday struck cold on him now. He had no -wish to stay talking to him, and he gave him the paper without a word -more than the injunction to have it despatched. - -He left him, hurrying across the Montrose road and making for the -place where the ground began to fall away to the Basin. He sat down on -the scrubby waste land by a broom-bush, whose dry, burst pods hung -like tattered black flags in the brush of green; their acrid smell was -coming out as the sun mounted higher. Below him the marshy ground ran -out to meet the water; and eastward the uncovered mud and wet sand, -bared by the tide ebbing beyond Montrose, stretched along its shores -to the town. - -The fall of the broom-covered bank was steep enough to hide anyone -coming up from the lower levels, and he listened to the movements of -somebody who was approaching, and to the crackling noise of the bushes -as they were thrust apart. - -The sound stopped; and Archie, leaning forward, saw James standing -half-way up the ascent, with his back turned towards him, looking out -across the flats. He knew what his thoughts were. He drew his right -sleeve lower. So long as he did not stretch out his arm the mark could -not be seen. - -He did not want to appear as if he were watching Logie, so he made a -slight sound, and the other turned quickly and faced him, hidden from -the waist downwards in the broom. Then his crooked lip moved, and he -came up the bank and threw himself down beside Flemington. - - - -CHAPTER VII - -TREACHERY - -JAMES did not look as if he had been up all night, though he had spent -the most part of it on foot with Ferrier. The refreshment of morning -had bathed him too, but he was still harassed in mind by some of the -occurrences of the last few hours. Last night he had seen the mark on -the wrist stretched suddenly between himself and his friend, and had -understood its significance. It was the mark that he had put there. As -the two men listened to the flying footsteps that mystified them by -their doublings in the darkness, it had dawned upon them that the -intruder skulking behind the windlass and the tipsy reveller prone in -the close were one and the same person. The drunkard was a very daring -spy, as sober as themselves. - -"You are out betimes," said Archie, with friendly innocence. - -"I often am," replied James simply. - -Archie pulled up a blade of grass and began to chew it meditatively. - -"I see your long night has done you good," began Logie. "There were -many things I should have liked to ask you, yesterday evening, but you -went away so early that I could not." - -Silence dropped upon the two: upon Logie, because his companion's -manner last night had hinted at remembrances buried in regret and -painful to dig up; on Flemington, because he knew the value of that -impression, and because he would fain put off the moment when the more -complete deception of the man whose sympathetic attitude he divined -and whose generosity of soul was so obvious, must begin. He did not -want to come to close quarters with James. He had hunted him and been -hunted by him, but he had not yet been obliged to lie to him by word -of mouth; and he had no desire to do so, here and now, in cold blood -and in the face of all this beauty and peace. - -"I could not but be interested in what you said," continued the other. -"You did not tell us whether you had been at St. Germain yourself." - -"Never!" replied Archie. "I was sent to Scotland at eight years old, -and I have been here ever since." - -He had taken the plunge now, for he had been backwards and forwards to -France several times in the last few years, since he had begun to work -for King George, employed in watching the movements of suspicious -persons between one country and the other. - -He looked down on the ground. - -The more he hesitated to speak, the more he knew that he would impress -James. He understood the delicacy of his companion's feeling by -instinct. It was not only dissimulation which bade him act thus, it -was the real embarrassment and discomfort which were creeping on him -under the eyes of the honourable soldier; all the same, he hoped that -his reluctant silence would save him. - -"You think me impertinent," said Logie, "but do not be afraid that I -mean to pry. I know how hard life can be and how anxious, nowadays. -There is so much loss and trouble--God knows what may happen to this -tormented country! But trouble does not seem natural when a man is -young and light-hearted, as you are." - -Archie was collecting materials wherewith to screen himself from his -companion's sympathy. It would be easy to tell him some rigmarole of -early suffering, of want endured for the cause which had lain dormant, -yet living, since the unsuccessful rising of the '15, of the devotion -to it of the parents he had scarcely known, of the bitterness of their -exile, but somehow he could not force himself to do it. He remembered -those parents principally as vague people who were ceaselessly playing -cards, and whose quarrels had terrified him when he was small. His -real interest in life had begun when he arrived at Ardguys and made -the acquaintance of his grandmother, whose fascination he had felt, in -common with most other male creatures. He had had a joyous youth, and -he knew it. He had run the pastures, climbed the trees, fished the -Kilpie burn, and known every country pleasure dear to boyhood. If he -had been solitary, he had yet been perfectly happy. He had gone to -Edinburgh at seventeen, at his own ardent wish, to learn painting, not -as a profession, but as a pastime. His prospects were comfortable, for -Madam Flemington had made him her heir, and she had relations settled -in England who were always ready to bid him welcome when he crossed -the border. Life had been consistently pleasant, and had grown -exciting since the beginning of his work for Government. He wished to -Heaven he had not met James this morning. - -But to Logie, Archie was merely a youth of undoubted good breeding -struggling bravely for his bread in an almost menial profession, and -he honoured him for what he deemed his courage. There was no need to -seek a reason for his poverty after hearing his words last night. His -voice, when he spoke of his father's death in exile, had implied all -that was necessary to establish a claim on James's generous and rather -bigoted heart. For him, there were only two kinds of men, those who -were for the Stuarts and those who were not. People were very reticent -about their political feelings in those days; some from pure caution -and some because these lay so deep under mountains of personal loss -and misfortune. - -"I dare not look back," said Archie, at last, "I have to live by my -trade and fight the world with my brush. You live by sticking your -sword into its entrails and I by painting its face a better colour -than Nature chose for it, and I think yours is the pleasanter calling -of the two. But I am grateful to mine, all the same, and now it has -procured me the acquaintance of his lordship and the pleasure of being -where I am. I need not tell you that I find myself in clover." - -"I am heartily glad of it," said James. - -"Indeed, so am I," rejoined Archie, pleased at having turned the -conversation so deftly, "for you cannot think what strange things -happen to a man who has no recognized place in the minds of -respectable people." - -James rolled over on his chest, leaning on his elbows, and looked up -at his companion sitting just above him with his dark, silky head -clear cut against the background of green bush. The young man's words -seemed to trip out and pirouette with impudent jauntiness in their -hearer's face. Logie did not know that Archie's management of these -puppets was a part of his charm. His detached points of view were -restful to a man like James, one continually preoccupied by large -issues. It was difficult to think of responsibilities in Archie's -presence. - -"You might never imagine how much I am admired below stairs!" said the -latter. "While I painted a lady in the south, I was expected to eat -with the servants, and the attentions of a kitchen-girl all but cost -me my life. I found a challenge, offering me the choice of weapons in -the most approved manner, under my dish of porridge. It came from a -groom." - -"What did you do?" asked James, astounded. - -"I chose warming-pans," said Archie, "and that ended the matter." - -James laughed aloud, but there was bitterness in his mirth. And this -was a man born at St. Germain! - -"We laugh," said he, "but such a life could have been no laughing -matter to you." - -"But I assure you it was! What else could I do?" - -"You could have left the place----" began James. Then he stopped -short, remembering that beggars cannot be choosers. - -His expression was not lost on Archie, who saw that the boat he had -steered so carefully into the shallows was drawing out to deep water -again, and that he had used his luxuriant imagination to small -purpose. He had so little self-consciousness that to keep James's -interest upon himself was no temptation to him, though it might have -been to some men. He cast about for something wherewith to blot his -own figure from the picture. - -"And you," he said, gravely, "you who think so much of my discomforts, -and who have actually wielded the sword while I have merely threatened -to wield the warming-pan--you must have seen stranger things than the -kitchen." - -"I?" said James, looking fixedly out to where the town steeple threw -its reflection on the wet sand--"yes. I have seen things that I hope -you will never see. It is not for me to speak ill of war, I who have -turned to it for consolation as a man may turn to his religion. But -war is not waged against men alone in some countries. I have seen it -when it is waged against women and little children, when it is -slaughter, not war. I have seen mothers--young, beautiful -women--fighting like wild beasts for the poor babes that cowered -behind their skirts, and I have seen their bodies afterwards. It would -be best to forget--but who can forget?" - -Archie sat still, with eyes from which all levity had vanished. He had -known vaguely that James had fought under Marshal Lacy in the War of -the Polish Succession, in the bloody campaign against the Turks, and -again in Finland. The ironic futility of things in general struck him, -for it was absurd to think that this man, seared by war and wise in -the realities of events whose rumours shook Europe, one who had looked -upon death daily in company with men like Peter Lacy, should come home -to be hunted down back streets by a travelling painter. He -contemplated his companion with renewed interest; no wonder he was -ruthless in small things. He was decidedly the most fascinating person -he had known. - -"And you went to these things _for consolation_--so you said?" - -"For consolation. For a thing that does not exist," said the other -slowly. - -He paused and turned to his companion with an expression that -horrified the young man and paralyzed his curiosity. The power in his -face seemed to have given way, revealing, for a moment, a -defencelessness like the defencelessness of a child looking upon the -dark; and it told Archie that there was something that even Logie -dreaded and that that something was memory. - -The deep places he had guessed in James's soul were deep indeed, and -again Flemington was struck with humility, for his own unimportance in -contrast with this experienced man seemed little less than pitiful. -The feeling closed his lips, and he looked round at the shortening -shadows and into the stir of coming sunlight as a man looks round for -a door through which to escape from impending stress. He, who was -always ready to go forward, recoiled because of what he foresaw in -himself. His self-confidence was ebbing, for he was afraid of how much -he might be turned out of his way by the influence on him of Logie. He -wished that he could force their talk into a different channel, but -his ready wits for once would not answer the call. - -Something not understood by him was moving James to expression, as -reserved men are compelled towards it at times. Perhaps the bygone -youth in him rose up in response to the youth at his side. The many -years dividing him from his brother, the judge, had never consciously -troubled him in their intercourse, but the tremendous divergence in -their respective characters had thrown him back upon himself. Archie -seemed to have the power of turning a key that Balnillo had never -held. - -"But I am putting you out of conceit with the world," cried James -abruptly; "let no one do that. Take all you can, Flemington! I did--I -took it all. Love, roystering, good company, good wine, good play--all -came to me, and I had my bellyful! There were merry times in Holland -with the Scots Brigade. It was the best part of my life, and I went to -it young. I was sixteen the day I stood up on parade for the first -time." - -"I have often had a mind to invade Holland," observed Archie, grasping -eagerly at the impersonal part of the subject; "it would be paradise -to one of my trade. The very thought of a windmill weaves a picture -for me, and those strange, striped flowers the Dutchmen raise--I -cannot think of their names now--I would give much to see them -growing. You must have seen them in every variety and hue." - -"Ay, I saw the tulips," said James, in a strange voice. - -"The Dutchmen can paint them too," said Archie hurriedly. - -"What devil makes you talk of tulips?" cried James. "Fate painted the -tulips for me. Oh, Flemington, Flemington! In every country, in every -march, in every fight, among dead and dying, and among dancers and the -music they danced to, I have seen nothing but those gaudy -flowers--beds of them growing like a woven carpet, and Diane among -them!" - -No feminine figure had come into the background against which stood -Archie's conception of Logie. - -"Diane?" he exclaimed involuntarily. - -James did not seem to hear him. - -"Her eyes were like yours," he went on. "When I saw you come into the -light of the house two evenings since, I thought of her." - -Neither spoke for a few moments; then James went on again: - -"Fourteen years since the day I saw her last! She looked out at me -from the window with her eyes full of tears. The window was filled -with flowers--she loved them. The tulips were there again--crimson -tulips--with her white face behind them." - -Flemington listened with parted lips. His personal feelings, his -shrinking dread of being drawn into the confidence of the man whom it -was his business to betray, were swallowed by a wave of interest. - -"I was no more than a boy, with my head full of cards and women and -horses, and every devilry under heaven, when I went to the house among -the canals. The Conte de Montdelys had built it, for he lived in -Holland a part of the year to grow his tulips. He was a rich man--a -hard, old, pinched Frenchman--but his passion was tulip-growing, and -their cultivation was a new thing. It was a great sight to see the -gardens he had planned at the water's edge, with every colour -reflected from the beds, and the green-shuttered house in the middle. -Even the young men of the Brigade were glad to spend an afternoon -looking upon the show, and the Conte would invite now one, now -another. He loved to strut about exhibiting his gardens. Diane was his -daughter--my poor Diane! Flemington, do I weary you?" - -"No, no, indeed!" cried Archie, who had been lost, wandering in an -enchanted labyrinth of bloom and colour as he listened. The image of -the house rising from among its waterways was as vivid to him as if he -had seen it with bodily eyes. - -"She was so young," said the soldier, "so gentle, so little suited to -such as I. But she loved me--God knows why--and she was brave--brave -to the end, as she lay dying by the roadside . . . and sending me her -love. . . ." - -He stopped and turned away; Archie could say nothing, for his throat -had grown thick. Logie's unconscious gift of filling his words with -drama--a gift which is most often given to those who suspect it -least--wrought on him. - -James looked round, staring steadily and blindly over his companion's -shoulder. - -"I took her away," he went on, as though describing another man's -experiences; "there was no choice, for the Conte would not tolerate -me. I was a Protestant, and I was poor, and there was a rich Spaniard -whom he favoured. So we went. We were married in Breda, and for a year -we lived in peace. Such days--such days! The Conte made no sign, and I -thought, in my folly, he would let us alone. It seemed as though we -had gained paradise at last; but I did not know him--Montdelys." - -"Then the boy was born. When he was two months old I was obliged to -come back to Scotland; it was a matter concerning money which could -not be delayed, for my little fortune had to be made doubly secure -now, and I got leave from my regiment. I could not take Diane and the -child, and I left them at Breda--safe, as I thought. At twenty-three -we do not know men, not the endless treachery of them. Flemington, -when God calls us all to judgment, there will be no mercy for -treachery." - -Archie's eyes, fixed on the other pair, whose keen grey light was -blurred with pain, dropped. He breathed hard, and his nostrils -quivered. - -"You seem to me as young as I was then. May God preserve you from -man's treachery. He did not preserve me," said James. - -"I do not know how Montdelys knew that she was defenceless," continued -he, "but I think there must have been some spy of his watching us. As -soon as I had left Holland he sent to her to say he was ill, probably -dying, and that he had forgiven all. He longed for the sight of the -boy, and he asked her to bring him that he might see his grandchild; -she was to make her home with him while I was absent, and he would -send word to me to join them on my return. Diane sent me the good news -and went, fearing nothing, to find herself a prisoner. - -"And all this time he had been working--he and the Spaniard--to get -the Pope to annul our marriage, and they had succeeded. What they said -to her, what they did, I know not, and never shall know, but they -could not shake Diane. I was on my way back to Holland when she -managed to escape with the boy. Storms in the North Sea delayed me, -but I was not disturbed, knowing her to be safe. I did not know when I -landed at last that she was dead. . . . She swam the canal, -Flemington, with the child tied on her shoulders, and the -brother-officer of mine--a man in my own company, whom she had -contrived to communicate with--was waiting for her with a carriage. My -regiment had moved to Bergen-op-Zoom, and he meant to take her there. -He had arranged it with the wife of my colonel, who was to give her -shelter till I arrived, and could protect her myself. They had gone -more than half-way to Bergen when they were overtaken, early in the -morning. She was shot, Flemington. The bullet was meant for -Carmichael, the man who was with her, but it struck Diane. . . . They -laid her on the grass at the roadside and she died, holding -Carmichael's hand, and sending--sending----" - -He stopped. - -"And the child?" said Archie at last. - -"Carmichael brought him to Bergen, with his mother. He did not live. -The bullet had grazed his poor little body as he lay in her arms, and -the exposure did the rest. They are buried at Bergen." - -Again Archie was speechless. - -"I killed the Spaniard," said James. "I could not reach Montdelys; he -was too old to be able to settle his differences in the world of men." - -Archie did not know what to do. He longed with a bitter longing to -show his companion something of what he felt, to give him some sign of -the passion of sympathy which had shaken him as he listened; but his -tongue was tied fast by the blighting knowledge of his true position, -and to approach, by so much as a step, seemed only to blacken his soul -and to load it yet more heavily with a treachery as vile as that which -had undone James. - -"I could not endure Holland afterwards," continued Logie; "once I had -looked on that Spanish hound's dead body my work was done. I left the -Scots Brigade and took service with Russia, and I joined Peter Lacy, -who was on his way to fight in Poland. Fighting was all I wanted, and -God knows I had it. I did not want to be killed, but to kill. Then I -grew weary of that, but I still stayed with Lacy, and followed him to -fight the Turks. We outlive trouble in time, Flemington; we outlive -it, though we cannot outlive memory. We outlast it--that is a better -word. I have outlasted, perhaps outlived. I can turn and look back -upon myself as though I were another being. It is only when some -chance word or circumstance brings my youth back in detail that I can -scarce bear it. You have brought it back, Flemington, and this morning -I am face to face with it again." - -"It does not sound as if you had outlived it," said the young man. - -"Life is made of many things," said James; "whether we have lost our -all or not, we have to plough on to the end, and it is best to plough -on merrily. Lacy never complained of me as a companion in the long -time we were together, for I was on his staff, and I took all that -came to me, as I have done always. There were some mad fellows among -us, and I was no saner than they! But life is quiet enough here in the -year since I came home to my good brother." - -The mention of Lord Balnillo made Flemington start. - -"Gad!" he exclaimed, rising, thankful for escape, "and I am to begin -the portrait this morning, and have set out none of my colours!" - -"And I have gone breakfastless," said Logie with a smile, "and worse -than that, I have spoilt the sunshine for you with my tongue, that -should have been silent." - -"No, no!" burst out Flemington rather hoarsely. "Don't think of that! -If you only knew----" - -He stood, unable to finish his sentence or to utter one word of -comfort without plunging deeper into self-abhorrence. - -"I must go," he stammered. "I must leave you and run." - -James laid a detaining hand on him. - -"Listen, Flemington," he said. "Listen before you go. We have learnt -something of each other, you and I. Promise me that if ever you should -find yourself in such a position as the one you spoke of--if you -should come to such a strait as that--if a little help could make you -free, you will come to me as if I were your brother. Your eyes are so -like Diane's--you might well be hers." - -Archie stood before him, dumb, as James held out his hand. - -He grasped it for a moment, and then turned from him in a tumult of -horror and despair. - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE HEAVY HAND - -IT was on the following day that Lord Balnillo stood in front of a -three-quarter length canvas in the improvised studio; Archie had begun -to put on the colour that morning, and the judge had come quietly -upstairs to study the first dawnings of his own countenance alone. -From the midst of a chaos of paint his features were beginning to -appear, like the sun through a fog. He had brought a small hand-glass -with him, tucked away under his velvet coat where it could not be -seen, and he now produced it and began to compare his face with the -one before him. Flemington was a quick worker, and though he had been -given only two sittings, there was enough on the canvas to prompt the -gratified smile on the old man's lips. He looked alternately at his -reflection and at the judicial figure on the easel; Archie had a -tactful brush. But though Balnillo was pleased, he could not help -sighing, for he wished fervently that his ankles had been included in -the picture. He stooped and ran his hand lovingly down his silk -stockings. Then he took up the glass again and began to compose his -expression into the rather more lofty one with which Flemington had -supplied him. - -In the full swing of his occupation he turned round to find the -painter standing in the doorway, but he was just too late to catch the -sudden flash of amusement that played across Archie's face as he saw -what the judge was doing. Balnillo thrust the glass out of sight and -confronted his guest. - -"I thought you had gone for a stroll, sir," he said rather stiffly. - -"My lord," exclaimed Flemington, "I have been searching for you -everywhere. I've come, with infinite regret, to tell you that I must -return to Ardguys at once." - -Balnillo's jaw dropped. - -"I have just met a messenger on the road," said the other; "he has -brought news that my grandmother is taken ill, and I must hurry home. -It is most unfortunate, most disappointing; but go I must." - -"Tut, tut, tut!" exclaimed the old man, clicking his tongue against -his teeth and forgetting to hope, as politeness decreed he should, -that the matter was not serious. - -"It is a heart-attack," said Archie. - -"Tut, tut," said Balnillo again. "I am most distressed to hear it; I -am indeed." - -"I _may_ be able to come back and finish the picture later." - -"I hope so. I sincerely hope so. I was just studying the admirable -likeness when you came in," said Balnillo, who would have given a -great deal to know how much of his posturing Flemington had seen. - -"Ah, my lord!" cried Archie, "a poor devil like me has no chance with -you! I saw the mirror in your hand. We painters use a piece of -looking-glass to correct our drawing, but it is few of our sitters who -know that trick." - -Guilty dismay was chased by relief across Balnillo's countenance. - -"You are too clever for me!" laughed Flemington. "How did you learn -it, may I ask?" - -But Balnillo had got his presence of mind back. - -"Casually, Mr. Flemington, casually--as one learns many things, if one -keeps one's ears open," said he. - -A couple of hours later Archie was on his way home. He had left one -horse, still disabled, in the judge's stable, and he was riding the -other into Brechin, where he would get a fresh one to take him on. -Balnillo had persuaded him to leave his belongings where they were -until he knew what chance there was of an early return. He had parted -from Archie with reluctance. Although the portrait was the old man's -principal interest, its maker counted for much with him; for it was -some time since his ideas had been made to move as they always moved -in Flemington's presence. The judge got much pleasure out of his own -curiosity; and the element of the unexpected--that fascinating factor -which had been introduced into domestic life--was a continual joy. -Balnillo had missed it more than he knew since he had become a -completely rural character. - -Archie saw the Basin of Montrose drop behind him as he rode away with -a stir of mixed feelings. The net that Logie had, in all ignorance, -spread for him had entangled his feet. He had never conceived a like -situation, and it startled him to discover that a difficulty, nowhere -touching the tangible, could be so potent, so disastrous. He felt like -a man who has been tripped up and who suddenly finds himself on the -ground. He had risen and fled. - -The position had become intolerable. He told himself in his impetuous -way that it was more than he could bear; and now, every bit of luck he -had turned to account, every precaution he had taken, all the -ingenuity he had used to land himself in the hostile camp, were to go -for nothing, because some look in his face, some droop of the eyes, -had reminded another man of his own past, and had let loose in him an -overwhelming impulse to expression. - -"Remember what I told you yesterday," had been James's last words as -Flemington put his foot in the stirrup. "There must be no more -challenges." - -It was that high-coloured flower of his own imagination, the picture -of himself in the servants' hall, that had finally accomplished his -defeat. How could he betray the man who was ready to share his purse -with him? - -And, putting the matter of the purse aside, his painter's imagination -was set alight. The glow of the tulips and the strange house by the -winding water, the slim vision of Diane de Montdelys, the gallant -background of the Scots Brigade, the grave at Bergen-op-Zoom--these -things were like a mirage behind the figure of James. The power of -seeing things picturesquely is a gift that can turn into a curse, and -that power worked on his emotional and imaginative side now. And -furthermore, beyond what might be called the ornamental part of his -difficulty, he realized that friendship with James, had he been free -to offer or to accept it, would have been a lifelong prize. - -They had spent the preceding day together after the sitting was over, -and though Logie had opened his heart no more, and their talk had been -of the common interests of men's lives, it had strengthened Archie's -resolve to end the situation and to save himself while there was yet -time. There was nothing for it but flight. He had told the judge that -he would try to return, but he did not mean to enter the gates of -Balnillo again, not while the country was seething with Prince -Charlie's plots; perhaps never. He would remember James all his life, -but he hoped that their ways might never cross again. And, behind -that, there was regret; regret for the friend who might have been his, -who, in his secret heart, would be his always. - -He could, even now, hardly realize that he had been actually turned -from his purpose. It seemed to him incredible. But there was one thing -more incredible still, and that was that he could raise his hand to -strike again at the man who had been stricken so terribly, and with -the same weapon of betrayal. It would be as if James lay wounded on a -battle-field and he should come by to stab him anew. The blow he -should deal him would have nothing to do with the past, but Archie -felt that James had so connected him in mind with the memory of the -woman he resembled--had, by that one burst of confidence, given him so -much part in the sacred kingdom of remembrance wherein she dwelt--that -it would be almost as if something from out of the past had struck at -him across her grave. - -Archie sighed, weary and sick with Fate's ironic jests. There were -some things he could not do. - -The two men had avoided politics. Though Flemington's insinuations had -conveyed to the brothers that he was like-minded with themselves, the -Prince's name was not mentioned. There was so much brewing in James's -brain that the very birds of the air must not hear. Sorry as he was -when Flemington met him with the news of his unexpected recall, he had -decided that it was well the young man should go. When this time of -stress was over, when--and if--the cause he served should prevail, he -would seek out Archie. The "if" was very clear to James, for he had -seen enough of men and causes, of troops and campaigns and the -practical difficulties of great movements, to know that he was -spending himself in what might well be a forlorn hope. But none the -less was he determined to see it through, for his heart was deep in -it, and besides that, he had the temperament that is attracted by -forlorn hopes. - -He was a reticent man, in spite of the opening of that page in his -life which he had laid before Flemington; and reticent characters are -often those most prone to rare and unexpected bouts of -self-revelation. But when the impulse is past, and the load ever -present with them has been lightened for a moment, they will thrust it -yet farther back behind the door of their lips, and give the key a -double turn. He had enjoined Flemington to come to him as he would -come to a brother for assistance, and it had seemed to Archie that -life would have little more to offer had it only given him a brother -like James. A cloud was on his spirit as he neared Brechin. - -When he left the inn and would have paid the landlord, he thrust his -hand into his pocket to discover a thin sealed packet at the bottom of -it; he drew it out, and found to his surprise that, though his name -was on it, it was unopened, and that he had never seen it before. -While he turned it over something told him that the unknown -handwriting it bore was that of James Logie. The coat he wore had hung -in the hall at Balnillo since the preceding night, and the packet must -have been slipped into it before he started. - -As he rode along he broke the seal. The paper it contained had neither -beginning nor signature, yet he knew that his guess was right. - - -"You will be surprised at finding this," he read, "but I wish you to -read it when there are some miles between us. In these disturbed days -it is not possible to tell when we may meet again. Should you return, -I may be here or I may be gone God knows where, and for reasons of -which I need not speak, my brother may be the last man to know where I -am. But for the sake of all I spoke of yesterday, I ask you to believe -that I am your friend. Do not forget that, in any strait, I am at your -back. Because it is true, I give you these two directions: a message -carried to Rob Smith's Tavern in the Castle Wynd at Stirling will -reach me eventually, wheresoever I am. Nearer home you may hear of me -also. There is a little house on the Muir of Pert, the only house on -the north side of the Muir, a mile west of the fir-wood. The man who -lives there is in constant touch with me. If you should find yourself -in urgent need, I will send you the sum of one hundred pounds through -him. - -"Flemington, you will make no hesitation in the matter. You will take -it for the sake of one I have spoken of to none but you, these years -and years past." - - -And now he had to go home and to tell Madam Flemington that he had -wantonly thrown away all the advantages gained in the last three days, -that he had tossed them to the wind for a mere sentimental scruple! So -far he had never quarrelled with his occupation; but now, because it -had brought him up against a soldier of fortune whose existence he had -been unaware of a few weeks ago, he had sacrificed it and played a -sorry trick on his own prospects at the same time. He was trusted and -valued by his own party, and, in spite of his youth, had given it -excellent service again and again. He could hardly expect the -determined woman who had made him what he was to see eye to eye with -him. - -Christian Flemington had kept her supremacy over her grandson. -Parental authority was a much stronger thing in the mid-eighteenth -century than it is now, and she stood in the position of a parent to -him. His French blood and her long residence in France had made their -relationship something like that of a French mother and son, and she -had all his confidence in his young man's scrapes, for she recognized -phases of life that are apt to be ignored by English parents in -dealing with their children. She had cut him loose from her -apron-strings early, but she had moulded him with infinite care before -she let him go. There was a touch of genius in Archie, a flicker of -what she called the _feu sacr_, and she had kept it burning before -her own shrine. The fine unscrupulousness that was her main -characteristic, her manner of breasting the tide of circumstance full -sail, awed and charmed him. For all his boldness and initiative, his -devil-may-care independence of will, and his originality in the -conduct of his affairs, he had never freed his inner self from her -thrall, and she held him by the strong impression she had made on his -imagination years and years ago. She had set her mark upon the plastic -character of the little boy whom she had beaten for painting Mr. -Duthie's gate-post. That was an episode which he had never forgotten, -which he always thought of with a smile; and while he remembered the -sting of her cane, he also remembered her masterly routing of his -enemy before she applied it. She had punished him with the -thoroughness that was hers, but she had never allowed the minister to -know what she had done. Technically she had been on the side of the -angels, but in reality she had stood by the culprit. In spirit they -had resented Mr. Duthie together. - -He slept at Forfar that night, and pushed on again next morning; and -as he saw the old house across the dip, and heard the purl of the burn -at the end of his journey, something in his heart failed him. The -liquid whisper of the water through the fine, rushlike grass spoke to -him of childhood and of the time when there was no world but Ardguys, -no monarch but Madam Flemington. He seemed to feel her influence -coming out to meet him at every step his horse took. How could he tell -his news? How could he explain what he had done? They had never -touched on ethical questions, he and she. - -As he came up the muddy road between the ash-trees he felt the chilly -throe, the intense spiritual discomfort, that attends our plunges from -one atmosphere into another. It is the penalty of those who live their -lives with every nerve and fibre, who take fervent part in the lives -of other people, to suffer acutely in the struggle to loose themselves -from an environment they have just quitted, and to meet an impending -one without distress. But it is no disproportionate price to pay for -learning life as a whole. Also, it is the only price accepted. - -He put his horse into the stable and went to the garden, being told -that Madam Flemington was there. The day was warm and bright, and as -he swung the gate to behind him he saw her sitting on a seat at the -angle of the farther wall. She rose at the click of the latch, and -came up the grass path to meet him between a line of espalier -apple-trees and a row of phlox on which October had still left a few -red and white blossoms. - -The eighteen years that had gone by since the episode of the manse -gate-post had not done much to change her appearance. The shrinking -and obliterating of personality which comes with the passing of middle -life had not begun its work on her, and at sixty-one she was more -imposing than ever. She had grown a great deal stouter, but the -distribution of flesh had been even, and she carried her bulk with a -kind of self-conscious triumph, as a ship carries her canvas. A brown -silk mantle woven with a pattern of flower-bouquets was round her -shoulders, and she held its thick folds together with one hand; in the -other she carried the book she had been reading. Her hair was as -abundant as ever, and had grown no whiter. The sun struck on its -silver, and red flashes came from the rubies in her ears. - -She said nothing as Archie approached, but her eyes spoke inquiry and -a shadow of softness flickered over so slightly round her broad lips. -She was pleased to see him, but the shadow was caused less by her -affection for him than by her appreciation of the charming figure he -presented, seen thus suddenly and advancing with so much grace of -movement in the sunlight. She stopped short when he was within a few -steps of her, and, dropping her book upon the ground without troubling -to see where it fell, held out her hand for him to kiss. He touched it -with his lips, and then, thrusting his arm into the phlox-bushes, drew -out the volume that had landed among them. From between the leaves -dropped a folded paper, on which he recognized his own handwriting. - -"This is a surprise," said Madam Flemington, looking her grandson up -and down. - -"I have ridden. My baggage is left at Balnillo." - -The moment of explanation would have to come, but his desire was to -put it off as long as possible. - -"There is your letter between the pages of my book," said she. "It -came to me this morning, and I was reading it again. It gave me -immense pleasure, Archie. I suppose you have come to search for the -clothes you mentioned. I am glad to see you, my dear; but it is a long -ride to take for a few pairs of stockings." - -"You should see Balnillo's hose!" exclaimed Flemington hurriedly. -"I'll be bound the old buck's spindle-shanks cost him as much as his -estate. If he had as many legs as a centipede he would have them all -in silk." - -"And not a petticoat about the place?" - -"None nearer than the kitchen." - -"He should have stayed in Edinburgh," said Madam Flemington, laughing. - -She loved Archie's society. - -"I hear that this Captain Logie is one of the most dangerous rebels in -Scotland," she went on. "If you can lay him by the heels it is a -service that will not be forgotten. So far you have done mighty well, -Archie." - -They had reached the gate, and she laid her hand on his arm. - -"Turn back," she said. "I must consult you. I suppose that now you -will be kept for some time at Balnillo? That nest of treason, -Montrose, will give you occupation, and you must stretch out the -portrait to match your convenience. I am going to take advantage of it -too. I shall go to Edinburgh while you are away." - -"To Edinburgh?" exclaimed Flemington. - -"Why not, pray?" - -"But you leave Ardguys so seldom. It is years----" - -"The more reason I should go now," interrupted she. "Among other -things, I must see my man of business, and I have decided to do it -now. I shall be more useful to you in Edinburgh, too. I have been too -long out of personal touch with those who can advance your interests. -I had a letter from Edinburgh yesterday; you are better thought of -there than you suspect, Archie. I did not realize how important a -scoundrel this man Logie is, nor what your despatch to Montrose -implied." - -He was silent, looking on the ground. - -She knew every turn of Archie's manner, every inflection of his voice. -There was a gathering sign of opposition on his face--the phantom of -some mood that must not be allowed to gain an instant's strength. It -flashed on her that he had not returned merely to fetch his clothes. -There was something wrong. She knew that at this moment he was afraid -of her, he who was afraid of nothing else. - -She stopped in the path and drew herself up, considering where she -should strike. Never, never had she failed to bring him to his -bearings. There was only one fitting place for him, and that was in -the hollow of her hand. - -"Grandmother, I shall not go back to Balnillo," said he vehemently. - -If the earth had risen up under her feet Madam Flemington could not -have been more astonished. She stood immovable, looking at him, whilst -an inward voice, flying through her mind like a snatch of broken -sound, told her that she must keep her head. She made no feeble -mistake in that moment, for she saw the vital importance of the -conflict impending between them with clear eyes. She knew her back to -be nearer the wall than it had been yet. Her mind was as agile as her -body was by nature indolent, and it was always ready to turn in any -direction and look any foe squarely in the face. She was startled, but -she could not be shaken. - -"I've left Balnillo for good," said he again. "I cannot go back--I -will not!" - -"You--_will not?_" said Christian, half closing her eyes. The pupils -had contracted, and looked like tiny black beads set in a narrow -glitter of grey. "Is that what you have come home to say to _me?_" - -"It is impossible!" he cried, turning away and flinging out his arms. -"It is more than I can do! I will not go man-hunting after Logie. I -will go anywhere else, do anything else, but not that!" - -"There is nothing else for you to do." - -"Then I will come back here." - -"That you will not," said Christian. - -He drew in his breath as if he had been struck. - -"What are you that you should betray me, and yet think to force -yourself on me without my resenting it? What do you think I am that I -should suffer it?" - -She laughed. - -"I have not betrayed you," said he in a husky voice. - -The loyal worship he had given her unquestioning through the long -dependence and the small but poignant vicissitudes of childhood came -back on him like a returning tide and doubled the cruelty of her -words. She was the one person against whom he felt unable to defend -himself. He loved her truly, and the thought of absolute separation -from her came over him like a chill. - -"I did not think you could speak to me in this way. It is terrible!" -he said. His dark eyes were full of pain. He spoke as simply as a -little boy. - -Satisfaction stole back to her. She had not lost her hold on him, -would not lose it. Another woman might have flung an affectionate word -into the balance to give the final clip to the scale, but she never -thought of doing that; neither impulse nor calculation suggested it, -because affection was not the weapon she was accustomed to trust. Her -faith was in the heavy hand. Her generalship was good enough to tell -her the exact moment of wavering in the enemy in front, the magic -instant for a fresh attack. - -"You are a bitter disappointment," she said. "Life has brought me -many, but you are the greatest. I have had to go without some -necessities in my time, and I now shall have to go without you. But I -can do it, and I will." - -"You mean that you will turn from me altogether?" - -"Am I not plain enough? I can be plainer if you like. You shall go out -of this house and go where you will. I do not care where you go. But -you are forgetting that I have some curiosity. I wish to understand -what has happened to you since you wrote your letter. That is -excusable, surely." - -"It is Logie," said he. "He has made it impossible for me. I cannot -cheat a man who has given me all his confidence." - -"He gave you his confidence?" cried Madam Flemington. "Heavens! He is -well served, that stage-puppet Prince, when his servants confide in -the first stranger they meet! Captain Logie must be a man of honour!" - -"He is," said Archie. "It was his own private confidence he gave me. I -heard his own history from his own lips, and, knowing it, I cannot go -on deceiving him. I like him too much." - -Madam Flemington was confounded. The difficulty seemed so strangely -puerile. A whim, a fancy, was to ruin the work of years and turn -everything upside down. On the top, she was exasperated with Archie, -but underneath, it was worse. She found her influence and her power at -stake, and her slave was being wrested from her, in spite of every -interest which had bound them together. She loved him with a jealous, -untender love that was dependent on outward circumstances, and she was -proud of him. She had smiled at his devotion to her as she would have -smiled with gratified comprehension at the fidelity of a favourite -dog, understanding the creature's justifiable feeling, and knowing how -creditable it was to its intelligence. - -"What has all this to do with your duty?" she demanded. - -"My duty is too hard," he cried. "I cannot do it, grandmother!" - -"_Too hard!_" she exclaimed. "Pah! you weary me--you disgust me. I am -sick of you, Archie!" - -His lip quivered, and he met her eyes with a mist of dazed trouble in -his own. A black curtain seemed to be falling between them. - -"I told him every absurdity I could imagine," said he. "I made him -believe that I was dependent upon my work for my daily bread. I did -not think he would take my lies as he did. His kindness was so -great--so generous! Grandmother, he would have had me promise to go to -him for help. How can I spy upon him and cheat him after that?" - -He stopped. He could not tell her more, for he knew that the mention -of the hundred pounds would but make her more angry; the details of -what Logie had written could be given to no one. He was only waiting -for an opportunity to destroy the paper he carried. - -"We have to do with principles, not men," said Madam Flemington. "He -is a rebel to his King. If I thought you were so much as dreaming of -going over to those worthless Stuarts, I would never see you nor speak -to you again. I would sooner see you dead. Is _that_ what is in your -mind?" - -"There is nothing farther from my thoughts," said he. "I can have no -part with rebels. I am a Whig, and I shall always be a Whig. I have -told you the plain truth." - -"And now _I_ will tell you the plain truth," said Madam Flemington. -"While I am alive you will not enter Ardguys. When you cut yourself -off from me you will do so finally. I will have no half-measures as I -have no half-sentiments. I have bred you up to support King George's -interests against the whole band of paupers at St. Germain, that you -may pay a part of the debt of injury they laid upon me and mine. Mary -Beatrice took my son from me. You do not know what you have to thank -her for, Archie, but I will tell you now! You have to thank her that -your mother was a girl of the people--of the streets--a slut taken -into the palace out of charity. She was forced on my son by the Queen -and her favourite, Lady Despard. That was how they rewarded us, my -husband and me, for our fidelity! He was in his grave, and knew -nothing, but I was there. I am here still, and I remember still!" - -The little muscles round her strong lips were quivering. - -Archie had never seen Madam Flemington so much disturbed, and it was -something of a shock to him to find that the power he had known always -as self-dependent, aloof, unruffled, could be at the mercy of so much -feeling. - -"Lady Despard was one of that Irish rabble that followed King James -along with better people, a woman given over to prayers and -confessions and priests. She is dead, thank God! It was she who took -your mother out of the gutter, where she sang from door to door, -meaning to make a nun of her, for her voice was remarkable, and she -and her priests would have trained her for a convent choir. But the -girl had no stomach for a nunnery; the backstairs of the palace -pleased her better, and the Queen took her into her household, and -would have her sing to her in her own chamber. She was handsome, too, -and she hid the devil that was in her from the women. The men knew her -better, and the Chevalier and your father knew her best of all. But at -last Lady Despard got wind of it. They dared not turn her into the -streets for fear of the priests, and to save her own son the Queen -sacrificed mine." - -She stopped, looking to see the effect of her words. Archie was very -pale. - -"Is my true name Flemington?" he asked abruptly. - -"You are my own flesh and blood," said she, "or you would not be -standing here. Their fear was that the Chevalier would marry her -privately, but they got him out of the way, and your father seduced -the girl. Then, to make the Chevalier doubly safe, they forced him to -make her his wife--he who was only nineteen! They did it secretly, but -when the marriage was known, I would not receive her, and I left the -court and went to Rouen. I have lived ever since in the hope of seeing -the Stuarts swept from the earth. Your father is gone, and you are all -I have left, but you shall go too if you join yourself to them." - -"I shall not do that," said he. - -"Do you understand now what it costs me to see you turn back?" said -Madam Flemington. - -The mantle had slipped from her shoulders, and her white hands, -crossed at the wrists, lay with the fingers along her arms. She stood -trying to dissect the component parts of his trouble and to fashion -something out of them on which she might make a new attack. Forces -outside her own understanding were at work in him which were strong -enough to take the fine edge of humiliation off the history she had -just told him; she guessed their presence, unseen though they were, -and her acute practical mind was searching for them. She was like an -astronomer whose telescope is turned on the tract of sky in which, as -his science tells him, some unknown body will arise. - -She had always taken his pride of race for granted, as she took her -own. The influx of the base blood of the "slut" had been a -mortification unspeakable, but to Madam Flemington, the actual -treachery practised on her had not been the crowning insult. The thing -was bad, but the manner of its doing was worse, for the Queen and Lady -Despard had used young Flemington as though he had been of no account. -The Flemingtons had served James Stuart whole-heartedly, taking his -evil fortunes as though they had been their own; they had done it of -their own free will, high-handedly. But Mary Beatrice and her -favourite had treated Christian and her son as slaves, chattels to be -sacrificed to the needs of their owner. There was enough nobility in -Christian to see that part of the business as its blackest spot. - -She had kept the knowledge of it from Archie, because she had the -instinct common to all savage creatures (and Christian's affinity with -savage creatures was a close one) for the concealment of desperate -wounds. Her silks, her ruby earrings, her physical indolence, her -white hands, all the refinements that had accrued to her in her -world-loving life, all that went to make the outward presentment of -the woman, was the mere ornamental covering of the savage in her. That -savage watched Archie now. - -Madam Flemington was removed by two generations from Archie, and there -was a gulf of evolution between them, unrealized by either. Their -conscious ideals might be identical; but their unconscious ideals, -those that count with nations and with individuals, were different. -And the same trouble, one that might be accepted and acknowledged by -each, must affect each differently. The old regard a tragedy through -its influences on the past, and the young through its influences on -the future. To Archie, Madam Flemington's revelation was an -insignificant thing compared to the horror that was upon him now. It -was done and it could not be undone, and he was himself, with his life -before him, in spite of it. It was like the withered leaf of a -poisonous plant, a thing rendered innocuous by the processes of -nature. What process of nature could make his agony innocuous? The -word 'treachery' had become a nightmare to him, and on every side he -was fated to hear it. - -Its full meaning had only been brought home to him two days ago, and -now the hateful thing was being pressed on him by one who had suffered -from it bitterly. What could he say to her? How was he to make her see -as he saw? His difficulty was a sentimental one, and one that she -would not recognize. - -Archie was not logical. He had still not much feeling about having -deceived Lord Balnillo, whose hospitality he had accepted and enjoyed, -but, as he had said, he could not go "man-hunting" after James, who -had offered him a brother's help, whose heart he had seen, whose life -had already been cut in two by the baneful thing. There was little -room in Archie's soul for anything but the shadow of that nightmare of -treachery, and the shadow was creeping towards him. Had his mother -been a grand-duchess of spotless reputation, what could her virtue or -her blue blood avail him in his present distress? She was nothing to -him, that "slut" who had brought him forth; he owed her no allegiance, -bore her no grudge. The living woman to whom he owed all stood before -him beloved, admired, cutting him to the heart. - -He assented silently; but Christian understood that, though he looked -as if she had carried her point, his looks were the only really -unreliable part of him. She knew that he was that curious thing--a man -who could keep his true self separate from his moods. It had taken her -years to learn that, but she had learnt it at last. - -For once she was, like other people, baffled by his naturalness. It -was plain that he suffered, yet she could not tell how she was to -mould the hard stuff hidden below his suffering. But she must work -with the heavy hand. - -"You will leave here to-morrow," she said; "you shall not stay here to -shirk your duty"; and again the pupils of her eyes contracted as she -said it. - -"I will go now," said he. - - - -CHAPTER IX - -"TOUJOURS DE L'AUDACE" - -"DOAG," said the beggar, addressing the yellow cur, "you an' me'll -need to be speerin' aboot this. Whiles, it's no sae easy tellin' -havers frae truth." - -Though Skirling Wattie was on good terms with the whole of his team, -the member of it whom he singled out for complete confidence, whom he -regarded as an employer might regard the foreman of a working gang, -was the yellow cur. The abuse he poured over the heads of his servants -was meant more as incentive than as rebuke, and he fed them well, -sharing his substance honestly with them, and looking to them for -arduous service in return. They were a faithful, intelligent lot, -good-tempered, but for one of the collies, and the accepted -predominance of the yellow cur was merely one more illustration of the -triumph of personality. His golden eyes, clear, like unclouded amber, -contrasted with the thick and vulgar yellow of his close coat, and the -contrast was like that between spirit and flesh. He was a strong, -untiring creature, with blunt jaws and legs that seemed to be made of -steel, and it was characteristic of him that he seldom laid down but -at night, and would stand turned in his traces as though waiting for -orders, looking towards his master as the latter sang or piped, whilst -his comrades, extended in the dust, took advantage of the halt. - -The party was drawn up under the lee of a low wall by the grassy side -of the Brechin road, and its grotesqueness seemed greater than ever -because of its entirely unsuitable background. - -The wall encircled the site of an ancient building called Magdalen -Chapel, which had long been ruined, and now only survived in one -detached fragment and in the half-obliterated traces of its -foundations. Round it the tangled grass rose, and a forest of withered -hemlock that had nearly choked out the nettles, stood up, traced like -lacework against the line of hills beyond the Basin. In summer its -powdery white threw an evanescent grace over the spot. The place was a -haunt of Skirling Wattie's, for it was a convenient half-way house -between Montrose and Brechin, and the trees about it gave a comforting -shelter from both sun and rain. - -The tailboard of the cart was turned to the wall so that the piper -could lean his broad back against it, and there being not a dozen -inches between the bottom of his cart and the ground, he was hidden -from anyone who might chance to be in the chapel precincts. The -projecting stone which made a stile for those who entered the -enclosure was just level with his shoulder, and he had laid his pipes -on it while he sat with folded arms and considered the situation. He -had just been begging at a farm, and he had heard a rumour there that -Archie Flemington was gone from Balnillo, and had been seen in -Brechin, riding westwards, on the preceding morning. The beggar had -got a letter for him behind his sliding boards which had to be -delivered without delay. - -"Doag," said he again, "we'll awa' to auld Davie's." - -Skirling Wattie distrusted rumour, for the inexactitudes of human -observation and human tongues are better known to a man who lives by -his wits than to anybody else. He was not going to accept this news -without sifting it. To Balnillo he would go to find out whether the -report was true. The only drawback was that "auld Davie," as he called -the judge, abhorred and disapproved of beggars, and he did not know -how he might stay in the place long enough to find out what he wanted. -He was a privileged person at most houses, from the sea on the east to -Forfar on the west, but Lord Balnillo would none of him. Nevertheless, -he turned the wheels of his chariot in his direction. - -He wondered, as he went along, why he had not seen Archie by the way; -but Archie had not left Balnillo by the Brechin road, being anxious to -avoid him. What was the use of receiving instructions that he could -not bring himself to carry out? The last person he wished to meet was -the beggar. - -Wattie turned into the Balnillo gates and went up the avenue towards -the stable. His pipes were silent, and the fallen leaves muffled the -sound of his wheels. He knew about the mishap that had brought -Flemington as a guest to the judge, and about the portrait he was -painting, for tidings of all the happenings in the house reached the -mill sooner or later. That source of gossip was invaluable to him. -But, though the miller had confirmed the report that Flemington had -gone, he had been unable to tell him his exact destination. - -He drove into the stable yard and found it empty but for a man who was -chopping wood. The latter paused between his strokes as he saw who had -arrived. - -"A'm seekin' his lordship," began Wattie, by way of discovering how -the land lay. - -"Then ye'll no find him," replied the woodman, who was none other than -the elder, Andrew Robieson, and who, like his master, disapproved -consistently of the beggar. He was a sly old man, and he did not think -it necessary to tell the intruder that the judge, though not in the -house, was within hearing of the pipes. It was his boast that he "left -a' to Providence," but he was not above an occasional shaping of -events to suit himself. - -The beggar rolled up to the back-door at the brisk pace he reserved -for public occasions. A shriek of delight came from the kitchen window -as the blast of his pipes buzzed and droned across the yard. The tune -of the 'East Nauk of Fife' filled the place. A couple of maidservants -came out and stood giggling as Wattie acknowledged their presence by a -wag of the head that spoke gallantry, patronage, ribaldry--anything -that a privileged old rogue can convey to young womanhood blooming -near the soil. A groom came out of the stable and joined the group. - -The feet of the girls were tapping the ground. The beggar's expression -grew more genially provocative, and his eyeballs rolled more -recklessly as he blew and blew; his time was perfect. The groom, who -was dancing, began to compose steps on his own account. Suddenly there -was a whirl of petticoats, and he had seized one of the girls round -the middle. - -They spun and counter-spun; now loosing each other for the more -serious business of each one's individual steps, now enlacing again, -seeming flung together by some resistless elemental wind. The man's -gaze, while he danced alone, was fixed on his own feet as though he -were chiding them, admiring them, directing them through niceties -which only himself could appreciate. His partner's hair came down and -fell in a loop of dull copper-colour over her back. She was a -finely-made girl, and each curve of her body seemed to be surging -against the agitated sheath of her clothes. The odd-woman-out circled -round the pair like a fragment thrown off by the spin of some -travelling meteor. The passion for dancing that is even now part of -the life of Angus had caught all three, let loose upon them by the -piper's handling of sound and rhythm. - -In the full tide of their intoxication, a door in the high wall of the -yard opened and Lord Balnillo came through it. The fragment broke from -its erratic orbit and fled into the house with a scream; the meteor, a -whirling twin-star, rushed on, unseeing. The piper, who saw well -enough, played strong and loud; not the king himself could have -stopped him in the middle of a strathspey. The yellow dog, on his feet -among his reposing companions, showed a narrow white line between his -lips, and the hackles rose upon his plebeian neck. - -"Silence!" cried Lord Balnillo. But the rest of his words were drowned -by the yell of the pipes. - -As the dancers drew asunder again, they saw him and stopped. His wrath -was centred on the beggar, and man and maid slunk away unrebuked. - -Wattie finished his tune conscientiously. To Balnillo, impotent in the -hurricane of braying reeds, each note that kept him dumb was a new -insult, and he could see the knowledge of that fact in the piper's -face. As the music ceased, the beggar swept off his bonnet, displaying -his disreputable bald head, and bowed like the sovereign of some -jovial and misgoverned kingdom. The yellow dog's attitude forbade -Balnillo's nearer approach. - -"Go!" shouted the judge, pointing a shaking forefinger into space. -"Out with you instantly! Is my house to be turned into a house of call -for every thief and vagabond in Scotland? Have I not forbidden you my -gates? Begone from here immediately, or I will send for my men to -cudgel you out!" - -But he leaped back, for he had taken a step forward in his excitement, -and the yellow cur's teeth were bare. - -"A'm seekin' the painter-laddie," said the beggar, giving the dog a -good-humoured cuff. - -"Away with you!" cried the other, unheeding. "You are a plague to the -neighbourhood. I will have you put in Montrose jail! To-morrow, I -promise you, you will find yourself where you cannot make gentlemen's -houses into pandemoniums with your noise." - -"A'd like Brechin better," rejoined the beggar; "it's couthier in -there." - -Balnillo was a humane man, and he prided himself, as all the world -knew, on some improvements he had suggested in the Montrose prison. He -was speechless. - -"Ay," continued Wattie, "a'm thinkin' you've sent mony a better man -than mysel' to the tolbooth. But, dod! a'm no mindin' that. A'm asking -ye, _whaur's the painter-lad?_" - -One of Balnillo's fatal qualities was his power of turning in -mid-career of wrath or eloquence to daily with side-issues. - -He swallowed the fury rising to his lips. - -"What! Mr. Flemington?" he stammered. "What do you want of Mr. -Flemington?" - -"Is yon what they ca' him? Well, a'm no seekin' onything o' him. It's -him that's seekin' me." - -Astonishment put everything else out of Balnillo's mind. He glared at -the intruder, his lips pursed, his fingers working. - -"He tell't me to come in-by to the muckle hoose and speer for him," -said the other. "There was a sang he was needin'. He was seekin' to -lairn it, for he liket it fine, an' he tell't me to come awa' to the -hoose and lairn him. Dod! maybe he's forgotten. Callants like him's -whiles sweer to mind what they say, but auld stocks like you an' me's -got mair sense." - -"I do not believe a word of it," protested Balnillo. - -"Hoots! ye'll hae to try, or the puir lad 'll no get his sang," -exclaimed Skirling Wattie, smiling broadly. "Just you cry on him to -come down the stair, an' we'll awa' ahint the back o' yon wa', an' -a'll lairn him the music! It's this way." - -He unscrewed the chanter and blew a few piercing notes. The sound flew -into the judge's face like the impact of a shower of pebbles. He -clapped his hands to his ears. - -"I tell you Mr. Flemington is not here!" he bawled, raising his voice -above the din. "He is gone. He is at Ardguys by this time." - -"Man, is yon true? Ye're no leein'?" exclaimed Wattie, dropping his -weapon. - -"Is yon the way to speak to his lordship?" said the deep voice of -Andrew Robieson, who had come up silently, his arms full of wood, -behind the beggar's cart. - -"Turn this vagabond away!" exclaimed Balnillo, almost beside himself. -"Send for the men; bring a horsewhip from the stable! Impudent rogue! -Go, Robieson--quick, man!" - -But Wattie's switch was in his hand, and the dogs were already -turning; before the elder had time to reach the stables, he had passed -out under the clock and was disappearing between the trees of the -avenue. He had learned what he wished to know, and the farther side of -Brechin would be the best place for him for the next few days. He -reflected that fortune had favoured him in keeping Captain Logie out -of the way. There would have been no parleying with Captain Logie. - - - -BOOK II - - - -CHAPTER X - -ADRIFT - -ARCHIE rode along in a dream. He had gone straight out of the garden, -taken his horse from the stable, and ridden back to Forfar, following -the blind resolution to escape from Ardguys before he should have time -to realize what it was costing him. He had changed horses at the -posting-house, and turned his face along the way he had come. Through -his pain and perplexity the only thing that stood fast was his -determination not to return to Balnillo. "I will go now," he had said -to Madam Flemington, and he had gone without another word, keeping his -very thoughts within the walled circle of his resolution, lest they -should turn to look at familiar things that might thrust out hands -full of old memories to hold him back. - -In the middle of his careless life he found himself cut adrift without -warning from those associations that he now began to feel he had -valued too little, taken for granted too much. - -Balnillo was impossible for him, and in consequence he was to be a -stranger in his own home. Madam Flemington had made no concession and -had put no term to his banishment, and though he could not believe -that such a state of things could last, and that one sudden impulse of -hers could hurl him out of her life for ever, she, who had lived for -him, had told him that she would "do without him." Then, as he assured -himself of this, from that dim recess wherein a latent truth hides -until some outside light flashes upon its lair, came the realization -that she had not lived for him alone. She had lived for him that she -might make him into the instrument she desired, a weapon fashioned to -her hand, wherewith she might return blow for blow. - -All at once the thought made him spiritually sick, and the glory and -desirableness of life seemed to fade. He could not see through its -dark places, dark where all had been sunshine. He had been a boy -yesterday, a man only by virtue of his astounding courage and -resource, but he was awakening from boyhood, and manhood was hard. His -education had begun, and he could not value the education of pain--the -soundest, the most costly one there is--any more than any of us do -whilst it lasts. He did not think, any more than any of us think, that -perhaps when we come to lie on our death-beds we shall know that, of -all the privileges of the life behind us, the greatest has been the -privilege of having suffered and fought. - -All he knew was that his heart ached, that he had disappointed and -estranged the person he loved best, and had lost, at any rate -temporarily, the home that had been so dear. But hope would not desert -him, in spite of everything. Madam Flemington had gone very wide of -the mark in suspecting him of any leaning towards the Stuarts, and she -would soon understand how little intention he had of turning rebel. -There was still work for him to do. He had been given a free hand in -details, and he would go to Brechin for the night; to-morrow he must -decide what to do. Possibly he would ask to be transferred to some -other place. But nothing that heaven or earth could offer him should -make him betray Logie. - -Madam Flemington had seen him go, in ignorance of whether he had gone -in obedience or in revolt. Perhaps she imagined that her arguments and -the hateful story she had laid bare to him had prevailed, and that he -was returning to his unfinished portrait. In the excitement of his -interview with her, he had not told her anything but that he refused -definitely to spy upon James any more. - -He had started for Ardguys so early, and had been there such a short -time, that he was back in Forfar by noon. There he left his horse, -and, mounting another, set off for Brechin. He was within sight of its -ancient round tower, grey among the yellowing trees above the South -Esk, when close to his left hand there rose the shrill screech of a -pipe, cutting into his abstraction of mind like a sharp stab of pain. -It was so loud and sudden that the horse leaped to the farther side of -the road, snorting, and Flemington, sitting loosely, nearly lost his -seat. He pulled up the astonished animal, and peered into a thicket of -alder growing by the wayside. The ground was marshy, and the stunted -trees were set close, but, dividing their branches, he saw behind -their screen an open patch in the midst of which was Skirling Wattie's -cart. His jovial face seemed to illuminate the spot. - -"Dod!" exclaimed the piper, "ye was near doon! A'd no seek to change -wi' you. A'm safer wi' ma' doags than you wi' yon horse. What ailed ye -that ye gae'd awa' frae Balnillo?" - -"Private matters," said Archie shortly. - -"Aweel, they private matters was no far frae putting me i' the -tolbooth. What gar'd ye no tell me ye was gaein'?" - -"Have you got a letter for me?" said Flemington, as Wattie began to -draw up his sliding-board. - -"Ay, there's ane. But just wait you, ma lad, till a tell ye what a was -sayin' to auld Davie----" - -"Never mind what you said to Lord Balnillo," broke in Flemington; "I -want my letter." - -He slipped from the saddle and looped the rein over his arm. - -"Dinna bring yon brute near me!" cried Wattie, as horse and man began -to crush through the alders. "A'm fell feared o' they unchancy -cattle." - -Archie made an impatient sound and threw the rein over a stump. He -approached the cart, and the yellow dog, who was for once lying down, -opened his wary golden eyes, watching each movement that brought the -intruder nearer to his master without raising his head. - -"You are not often on this side of Brechin," said Archie, as the -beggar handed him the packet. - -"Fegs, na!" returned Wattie, "but auld Davie an' his tolbooth's on the -ither side o't an' it's no safe yonder. It's yersel' I hae to thank -for that, Mr. Flemington. A didna ken whaur ye was, sae a gae'd up to -the muckle hoose to speer for ye. The auld stock came doon himsel'. -Dod! the doag gar'd him loup an' the pipes gar'd him skelloch. But he -tell't me whaur ye was." - -"Plague take you! did you go there asking for me?" cried Archie. - -"What was a to dae? A tell't Davie ye was needin' me to lairn ye a -sang! 'The painter-lad was seekin' me,' says I, 'an' he tell't me to -come in-by.'" - -Flemington's annoyance deepened. He did not know what the zeal of this -insufferable rascal had led him to say or do in his name, and he had -the rueful sense that the tangle he had paid such a heavy price to -escape from was complicating round him. The officious familiarity of -the piper exasperated him, and he resented Government's choice of such -a tool. He put the letter in his pocket, and began to back out of the -thicket. He would read his instructions by himself. - -"Hey! ye're no awa', man?" cried Wattie. - -"I have no time to waste," said Flemington, his foot in the stirrup. - -"But ye've no tell't me whaur ye're gaein'!" - -"Brechin!" - -Archie called the word over his shoulder, and started off at a trot, -which he kept up until he had left the alder-bushes some way behind -him. - -Then he broke the seal of his letter, and found that he was to convey -the substance of each report that he sent in, not only to His -Majesty's intelligence officer at Perth, but to Captain Hall, of the -English ship _Venture_, that was lying under Ferryden. He was to -proceed at once to the vessel, to which further instructions for him -would be sent in a couple of days' time. - -He pocketed the letter and drew a breath of relief, blessing the -encounter that he had just cursed, for a road of escape from his -present difficulty began to open before him. He must take to his own -feet on the other side of Brechin, and go straight to the _Venture_. -He would be close to Montrose, in communication with it, though not -within the precincts of the town, and safe from the chance of running -against Logie. Balnillo and his brother would not know what had become -of him, and Christian Flemington would be cured of her suspicions by -the simple testimony of his whereabouts. - -He would treat the two days that he had spent at the judge's house as -if they had dropped out of his life, and merely report his late -presence in Montrose to the captain of the sloop. He would describe -his watching of the two men who came out of 'The Happy Land,' and how -he had followed them to the harbour through the darkness; how he had -seen them stop opposite the ship's light as they discussed their -plans; how he had tried to secure the paper they held. He would tell -the captain that he believed some design against the ship to be on -foot, but he would not let Logie's name pass his lips; and he would -deny any knowledge of the identity of either man, lest the mention of -Ferrier should confirm the suspicions of those who guessed he was -working with James. When he had reported himself to Perth from the -ship, he would no longer be brought into contact with Skirling Wattie, -which at that moment struck him as an advantage. - -The evenings had begun to close in early. As he crossed the Esk bridge -and walked out of Brechin, the dusk was enwrapping its parapet like a -veil. He hurried on, and struck out along the road that would lead him -to Ferryden by the southern shore of the Basin. His way ran up a long -ascent, and when he stood at the top of the hill the outline of the -moon's disc was rising, faint behind the thin cloudy bank that rested -on the sea beyond Montrose. There was just enough daylight left to -show him the Basin lying between him and the broken line of the town's -twinkling lights under the muffled moon. - -It was quite dark when he stood at last within hail of the _Venture_. -As he went along the bank at the Esk's mouth, he could see before him -the cluster of houses that formed Ferryden village, and the North Sea -beyond it, a formless void in the night, with the tide far out. Though -the moon was well up, the cloud-bank had risen with her, and taken all -sharpness out of the atmosphere. - -At his left hand the water crawled slithering at the foot of the -sloping bank, like a dark, full-fed snake, and not thirty yards out, -just where it broadened, stretching to the quays of Montrose, the -vessel lay at anchor, a stationary blot on the slow movement. -Upstream, between her and the Basin, the wedge-shaped island of -Inchbrayock split the mass of water into two portions. - -Flemington halted, taking in the dark scene, which he had contemplated -from its reverse side only a few nights ago. Then he went down to the -water and put his hands round his mouth. - -"_Venture_ ahoy!" he shouted. - -There was no movement on the ship. He waited, and then called again, -with the same result. Through an open porthole came a man's laugh, -sudden, as though provoked by some unexpected jest. The water was deep -here, and the ship lay so near that every word was carried across it -to the shore. - -The laugh exasperated him. He threw all the power of his lungs into -another shout. - -"Who goes there?" said a voice. - -"Friend," replied Archie; and, fearing to be asked for a countersign, -he called quickly, "Despatches for Captain Hall." - -"Captain Hall is ashore," announced a second voice, "and no one boards -us till he returns." - -The _Venture_ was near enough to the bank for Archie to hear some -derisive comment, the words of which he could not completely -distinguish. A suppressed laugh followed. - -"Damn it!" he cried, "am I to be kept here all night?" - -"Like enough, if you mean to wait for the captain." - -This reply came from the open porthole, in which the light was -obliterated by the head of the man who spoke. - -There was a sound as of someone pulling him back by the heels, and the -port was an eye of light again. - -Flemington turned and went up the bank, and as he reached the top and -sprang on to the path he ran into a short, stoutish figure which was -beginning to descend. An impatient expletive burst from it. - -"You needn't hurry, sir," said Archie, as the other hailed the vessel -querulously; "you are not likely to get on board?" - -"What? what? Not board my own ship?" - -Flemington was a good deal taken aback. He could not see much in the -clouded night, but no impression of authority seemed to emanate from -the indistinguishable person beside him. - -"Ten thousand pardons, sir!" exclaimed the young man. "You are Captain -Hall? I have information for you, and am sent by His Majesty's -intelligence officer in Perth to report myself to you. Flemington is -my name." - -For a minute the little man said nothing, and Archie felt rather than -saw his fidgety movements. He seemed to be hesitating. - -A boat was being put off from the ship. She lay so near to them that a -mere push from her side brought the craft almost into the bank. - -"It is so dark that I must show you my credentials on board," said -Archie, taking Captain Hall's acquiescence for granted. - -He heard his companion drawing in his breath nervously through his -teeth. No opposition was made as he stepped into the boat. - -When he stood on deck beside Hall the ship was quiet and the sounds of -laughter were silent. He had the feeling that everyone on board had -got out of the way on purpose as he followed the captain down the -companion to his cabin. As the latter opened the door the light within -revealed him plainly for the first time. - -He was a small ginger-haired man, whose furtive eyes were set very -close to a thin-bridged, aquiline nose; his gait was remarkable -because he trotted rather than walked; his restless fingers rubbed one -another as he spoke. He looked peevish and a little dissipated, and -his manner conveyed the idea that he felt himself to have no business -where he was. As Archie remarked that, he told himself that it was a -characteristic he had never yet seen in a seaman. His dress was -careless, and a wine-stain on his cravat caught his companion's eye. -He had the personality of a rabbit. - -Hall did not sit down, but stood at the farther side of the table -looking with a kind of grudging intentness at his guest, and -Flemington was inclined to laugh, in spite of the heavy heart he had -carried all day. The other moved about with undecided steps. When at -last he sat down, just under the swinging lamp, Archie was certain -that, though he could be called sober, he had been drinking. - -"Your business, sir," he began, in a husky voice. "I must tell you -that I am fatigued. I had hoped to go to bed in peace." - -He paused, leaning back, and surveyed Flemington with injured -distaste. - -"There is no reason that you should not," replied Archie boldly. "I -have had a devilish hard day myself. Give me a corner to lie in -to-night, and I will give you the details of my report quickly." - -He saw that he would meet with no opposition from Hall, whose one idea -was to spare himself effort, and that his own quarters on board the -_Venture_ were sure. No doubt long practice had enabled the man to -look less muddled than he felt. He sat down opposite to him. - -The other put out his hand, as though to ward him off. - -"I have no leisure for business to-night," he said. "This is not the -time for it." - -"All the same, I have orders from Perth to report myself to you, as I -have told you already," said Archie. "If you will listen, I will try -to make myself clear without troubling you to read anything. I have -information to give which you should hear at once." - -"I tell you that I cannot attend to you," said Hall. - -"I shall not keep you long. You do not realize that it is important, -sir." - -"Am I to be dictated to?" exclaimed the other, raising his voice. -"This is my own ship, Mr. Flem--Fling--Fl----" - -The name presented so much difficulty to Hall that it died away in a -tangled murmur, and Archie saw that to try to make him understand -anything important in his present state would be labour lost. - -"Well, sir," said he, "I will tell you at once that I suspect an -attack on you is brewing in Montrose. I believe that it may happen at -any moment. Having delivered myself of that, I had best leave you." - -The word "attack" found its way to the captain's brain. - -"It's impossible!" he exclaimed crossly. "Why, plague on't, I've got -all the town guns! Nonsense, sir--no'sense! Come, I will call for a -bottle of wine, 'n you can go. There's an empty bunk, I s'pose." - -The order was given and the wine was brought. Archie noticed that the -man who set the bottle and the two glasses on the table threw a casual -look at Hall's hand, which shook as he helped his guest. He had eaten -little since morning, and drunk less. Now that he had attained his -object, and found himself in temporary shelter and temporary peace, be -realized how glad he was of the wine. When, after a single glassful, -he rose to follow the sailor who came to show him his bunk, he turned -to bid good-night to Hall. The light hanging above the captain's head -revealed every line, every contour of his face with merciless candour; -and Flemington could see that no lover, counting the minutes till he -should be left with his mistress, had ever longed more eagerly to be -alone with her than this man longed to be alone with the bottle before -him. - -Archie threw himself thankfully into his bunk. There was evidently -room for him on the ship, for there was no trace of another occupant -in the little cabin; nevertheless, it looked untidy and unswept. The -port close to which he lay was on the starboard side of the vessel, -and looked across the strait towards the town. The lamps were nearly -all extinguished on the quays, and only here and there a yellow spot -of light made a faint ladder in the water. The pleasant trickling -sound outside was soothing, with its impersonal, monotonous whisper. -He wondered how long Hall would sit bemusing himself at the table, and -what the discipline of a ship commanded by this curiously ineffective -personality could be. To-morrow he must make out his story to the -little man. He could not reproach himself with having postponed his -report, for he knew that Hall's brain, which might possibly be clearer -in the morning, was incapable of taking in any but the simplest -impressions to-night. - -Tired as he was, he did not sleep for a long time. The scenes of the -past few days ran through his head one after another--now they -appeared unreal, now almost visible to his eyes. Sometimes the space -of time they covered seemed age-long, sometimes a passing flash. This -was Saturday night, and all the events that had culminated in the -disjointing of his life had been crowded into it since Monday. On -Monday he had not suspected what lay in himself. He would have gibed -had he been told that another man's personality, a page out of another -man's history, could play such havoc with his own interests. - -He wondered what James was doing. Was he--now--over there in the -darkness, looking across the rolling, sea-bound water straight to the -spot on which he lay? Would he--could space be obliterated and night -illumined--look up to find his steady eyes upon him? He lay quiet, -marvelling, speculating. Then Logie, the shadowy town, the burning -autumn-trees of Balnillo, the tulips round the house in far-away -Holland, fell away from his mind, and in their place was the familiar -background of Ardguys, the Ardguys of his childhood, with the -silver-haired figure of Madam Flemington confronting him; that -terrible, unsparing presence wrapped about with something greater and -more arresting than mere beauty; the quality that had wrought on him -since he was a little lad. He turned about with a convulsive breath -that was almost a sob. - -Then, at last, he slept soundly, to be awakened just at dawn by the -roar of a gun, followed by a rattle of small shot, and the frantic -hurrying of feet overhead. - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE GUNS OF MONTROSE - -WHEN Archie lay and pictured James on the other side of the water his -vision was a true one, but, while he saw him on the quay among the -sheds and windlasses, he had set him in the wrong place. - -James stood at the point of the bay formed by the Basin of Montrose, -at the inner and landward side of the town, not far from the empty -fort from which Hall had taken the guns. The sands at his feet were -bare, for the tide was out, and the salt, wet smell of the oozing weed -blew round him on the faint wind. He was waiting for Ferrier. - -They had chosen this night, as at this hour the ebbing water would -make it possible for the hundred men of Ferrier's regiment to keep -clear of the roads, and to make their way from Brechin on the secluded -shore of the Basin. Logie had not been there long when he heard the -soft sound of coming feet, and the occasional knocking of shoes -against stone. As an increasing shadow took shape, he struck his hand -twice against his thigh, and the shadow grew still. He struck again, -and in another minute Ferrier was beside him; the soldiers who -followed halted behind their leader. The two men said little to each -other, but moved on side by side, and the small company wound up the -rising slope of the shore to the deserted fort and gathered at its -foot. - -James and his friend went on a little way and stood looking east down -the townward shore of the strait past the huddled houses massed -together at this end of Montrose. The water slid to the sea, and -halfway down the long quay in front of them was moored the unrigged -barque that held the town guns--the four-pounders and six-pounders -that had pointed their muzzles for so many years from the fort walls -towards the thundering bar. - -Hall had not concerned himself to bring the vessel into his own -immediate neighbourhood, nor even to put a few dozen yards of water -between her and the shore. He knew that no organized rebel force -existed within nine miles of where she lay, and that the Jacobites -among the townsmen could not attempt any hostile movement unaided. He -had eighty men on board the _Venture_ with him, and from them he had -taken a small guard which was left in charge of the barque. Every two -or three days he would send a party from the sloop to patrol the -streets of Montrose, and to impress disloyally inclined people. His -own investigations of the place had not been great, for, though he -went ashore a good deal, it cannot be said that King George's -interests were much furthered by his doings when he got there. - -When Logie and Ferrier had posted a handful of men in the empty fort, -they went on towards the barque's moorings followed by the rest, and -leaving a few to guard the mouth of each street that opened on the -quay. The whole world was abed behind the darkened windows and the -grim stone walls that brooded like blind faces over the stealthy band -passing below. When they reached the spot where the ferry-boat lay -that plied between Montrose and the south shore of the strait, two men -went down to the landing-stage, and, detaching her chains, got her -ready to push off. Then, with no more delay, the friends pressed on to -the main business of their expedition. As they neared the barque, a -faint shine forward where her bows pointed seaward suggested that -someone on board was waking, so, judging it best to make the attack -before an alarm could be given, the two captains ran on with their -men, and were climbing over the bulwarks and tumbling on to her deck -before Captain Hall's guard, who were playing cards round a lantern, -had time to collect their senses. - -The three players sprang to their feet, and one of them sent a loud -cry ringing into the darkness before he sprawled senseless, with his -head laid open by the butt-end of Ferrier's pistol. In this -unlooked-for onslaught, that had come upon them as suddenly as the -swoop of a squall in a treacherous sea, they struck blindly about, -stumbling into the arms of the swarming, unrecognized figures that had -poured in on their security out of the peaceful night. James had -kicked over the lantern, and the cards lay scattered about under foot, -white spots in the dimness. The bank of cloud was thinning a little -round the moon, and the angles of the objects on deck began to be more -clearly blocked out. One of the three, who had contrived to wrench -himself from his assailant's hold, sprang away and raced towards the -after-part of the ship, where, with the carelessness of security, he -had left his musket. Three successive shots was the signal for help -from the _Venture_ in case of emergency, and he made a gallant effort -to get free to send this sign of distress across the strait. But he -was headed back and overpowered before he could carry out his -intention. One of his companions was lying as if dead on the deck, and -the other, who had been cajoled to silence by the suggestive caress of -a pistol at the back of his ear, was having his arms bound behind him -with his own belt. - -Not a shot had been fired. Except for that one cry from the man who -lay so still at their feet, no sound but the scuffling and cursing on -the barque disturbed the quiet. Ferrier's men hustled their prisoners -below into the cabin, where they were gagged and secured and left -under the charge of a couple of soldiers. No roving citizen troubled -the neighbourhood at this hour, for the fly-by-nights of Montrose -looked farther inland for their entertainment, and the fisher-folk, -who were the principal dwellers in the poor houses skirting the quays, -slept sound, and recked little of who might be quarrelling out of -doors so long as they lay warm within them. The barque was some way -up-stream from the general throng of shipping--apart, and, as Hall had -thought, the more safe for that, for his calculations had taken no -count of an enemy who might come from anywhere but the town. He had -never dreamed of the silent band which had been yielded up by the -misty stretches of the Basin. - -James leaned over the vessel's side towards the _Venture_, and thought -of Captain Hall. He had seen him in a tavern of the town, and had been -as little impressed by his looks as was Flemington. He had noticed the -uncertain eye, the restless fingers, the trotting gait, and had held -him lightly as a force; for he knew as well as most men know who have -knocked about this world that character--none other--is the hammer -that drives home every nail into the framework of achievement. - -But he had no time to spend in speculations, for his interest was -centred in the ferry-boat that was now slipping noiselessly towards -them on the current, guided down-stream by the couple of soldiers who -had unmoored her. As she reached the barque a rope was tossed down to -her, and she was made fast. The stolen guns were hauled from their -storage, and a six-pounder lowered, with its ammunition, into the -great tub that scarcely heaved on the slow swirl of the river; and -whilst the work was going on, Ferrier and James stepped ashore to the -quay, and walked each a short way along it, watching for any movement -or for the chance of surprise. There was nothing: only, from far out -beyond the shipping, a soft rush, so low that it seemed to be part of -the atmosphere itself, told that the tide was on the turn. - -In the enshrouding night the boat was loaded, and a dozen or so of the -little company pushed off with their spoil. Ferrier went with them, -and Logie, who was to follow with the second gun, watched the craft -making her way into obscurity, like some slow black river monster -pushing blindly out into space. - -The scheme he had been putting together since the arrival of the -_Venture_ was taking reality at last, and though he could stand with -folded arms on the bulwark looking calmly at the departing boat, the -fire in his heart burned hot. Custom had inured him to risks of every -kind, and if his keenness of enterprise was the same as it had been in -youth, the excitement of youth had evaporated. It was the depths that -stirred in Logie, seldom the surface. Like Archie Flemington, he loved -life, but he loved it differently. Flemington loved it consciously, -joyously, pictorially; James loved it desperately--so desperately that -his spirit had survived the shock which had robbed it of its glory, -for him. He was like a faithful lover whose mistress has been scarred -by smallpox. - -He could throw himself heart and soul into the Stuart cause, its -details and necessities--all that his support of it entailed upon him, -because it had, so to speak, given him his second wind in the race of -life. Though he was an adventurer by nature, he differed from the -average adventurer in that he sought nothing for himself. He did not -conform to the average adventuring type. He was too overwhelmingly -masculine to be a dangler about women, though since the shipwreck of -his youth he had more than once followed in the train of some -complaisant goddess, and had reaped all the benefits of her notice; he -was no snatcher at casual advantages, but a man to whom service in any -interest meant solid effort and unsparing sacrifice. Also he was one -who seldom looked back. He had done so once lately, and the act had -shaken him to the heart. Perhaps he would do so oftener when he had -wrought out the permanent need of action that lay at the foundation of -his nature. - -When the boat had come back, silent on the outflowing river, and had -taken her second load, he lowered himself into the stern as her head -was pulled round again towards Inchbrayock. - -The scheme fashioned by the two men for the capture of the vessel -depended for its success on their possession of this island. As soon -as they should land on it, they were to entrench the two guns, one on -its south-eastern side, as near to the _Venture_ as possible, and the -other on its northern shore, facing the quays. By this means the small -party would command, not only the ship, but the whole breadth of the -river and its landing-places, and would be able to stop communication -between Captain Hall and the town. Heavy undergrowth covered a fair -portion of Inchbrayock, and the only buildings upon it--if buildings -they could be called--were the walls of an old graveyard and the -stones and crosses they encircled. Though the island lay at a -convenient part of the strait, no bridge connected it with Montrose, -and those who wished to cross the Esk at that point were obliged to -use the ferry. The channel dividing its southern shore from the -mainland being comparatively narrow, a row of gigantic stepping-stones -carried wayfarers dry-shod across its bed, for at low tide there was a -mere streak of water curling serpent-wise through the mud. - -When the guns were got safely into position on the island it was -decided that Ferrier was to return to the barque and take the -remaining four-pounders with all despatch to a piece of rising ground -called Dial Hill, that overlooked the mass of shipping opposite -Ferryden. - -He did not expect to meet with much opposition, should news of his -action be carried to the town, for its main sympathies were with his -side, and the force on the Government vessel would be prevented from -coming over the strait to oppose him until he was settled on his -eminence by the powerful dissuaders he had left behind him on -Inchbrayock. He was to begin firing from Dial Hill at dawn, and James, -who was near enough to the _Venture_ to see any movement that might -take place on her, was to be ready with his fire and with his small -party of marksmen to check any offensive force despatched from the -ship to the quays. Hall would thus be cut off from the town by the -fire from Inchbrayock, on the one hand, and, should he attempt a -landing nearer to the watermouth, by the guns on Dial Hill, on the -other. - -James had placed himself advantageously. The thicket of elder and -thorn which had engulfed one end of the burial-ground made excellent -concealment, and in front of him was the solid wall, through a gap in -which he had turned the muzzle of his six-pounder. He sat on the stump -of a thorn-tree, his head in his hands, waiting, as he knew he would -have to wait, for some time yet, till the first round from Dial Hill -should be the signal for his own attack. The moon had made her journey -by this hour, and while she had been caught in her course through the -zenith in the web of cloud and mist that thickened the sky, she was -now descending towards her rest through a clear stretch; she swung, as -though suspended above the Basin, tilted on her back, and a little -yellower as she neared the earth, a dying, witch-like thing, halfway -through her second quarter. James, looking up, could see her between -the arms of the crosses and the leaning stones. - -The strangeness of the place arrested his thoughts and turned them -into unusual tracks, for, though far from being an unimaginative man, -he was little given to deliberate contemplation. The distant inland -water under the lighted half disc was pale, and a faintness seemed to -lie upon the earth in this hour between night and morning. His -thoughts went to the only dwellers on Inchbrayock, those who were -lying under his feet--seamen, for the most part, and fisher-folk, who -had known the fury of the North Sea that was now beginning to crawl in -and to surround them in their little township with its insidious arms, -encircling in death the bodies that had escaped it in life. Some of -them had been far afield, farther than he had ever been, in spite of -all his campaigns, but they had come in over the bar to lie here in -the jaws of the outflowing river by their native town. He wondered -whether he should do the same; times were so uncertain now that he -might well take the road into the world again. The question of where -his bones should lie was a matter of no great interest to him, and -though there was a vague restfulness in the notion of coming at last -to the slopes and shadows of Balnillo, he knew that the wideness of -the world was his natural home. Then he thought of Bergen-op-Zoom. -. . . - -After a while he raised his head again, roused, not by the streak of -light that was growing upon the east, but by a shot that shattered the -silence and sent the echoes rolling out from Dial Hill. - - - -CHAPTER XII - -INCHBRAYOCK - -ARCHIE sprang up, unable, for a moment, to remember where he was. He -was almost in darkness, for the port looked northward, and the pale -light barely glimmered through it, but he could just see a spurt of -white leap into the air midway across the channel, where a second shot -had struck the water. As he rushed on deck a puff of smoke was -dispersing above Dial Hill. Then another cloud rolled from the bushes -on the nearest point of Inchbrayock Island, and he felt the _Venture_ -shiver and move in her moorings. Captain Hall's voice was rising above -the scuffling and running that was going on all over the ship, and the -dragging about of heavy objects was making the decks shake. - -He went below and begun to hustle on his clothes, for the morning air -struck chill and he felt the need of being ready for action of some -kind. In a few minutes he came up warily and crept round to the port -side, taking what cover he could. Then a roar burst from the side of -the _Venture_ as she opened fire. - -He stood, not knowing what to do with himself. It was dreadful to him -to have to be inactive whilst his blood rose with the excitement round -him. No one on the vessel remembered his existence; he was like a -stray dog in a market-place, thrust aside by every passer brushing by -on the business of life. - -It was soon evident that, though the guns on the hill commanded the -_Venture_, their shot was falling short of her. As the sun heaved up -from beyond the bar, the quays over the water could be seen filling -with people, and the town bells began to ring. An increasing crowd -swarmed upon the landing-stage of the ferry, but the boat herself had -been brought by James to the shore of Inchbrayock, and nobody was -likely to cross the water whilst the island and the high ground -seaward of the town was held by the invisible enemy which had come -upon them from heaven knew where. Captain Hall was turning his -attention exclusively on Inchbrayock, and Flemington, who had got -nearer to the place where he stood, gathered from what he could hear -that the man on Dial Hill was wasting his ammunition on a target that -was out of range. A shot from the vessel had torn up a shower of earth -in the bank that sloped from the thicket to the river-mud, and another -had struck one of the gravestones on the island, splitting it in two; -but the fire went on steadily from the dense tangle where the -churchyard wall no doubt concealed earthworks that had risen behind it -in the dark hours. This, then, was the outcome of James's -night-wanderings with Ferrier. - -Archie contemplated Captain Hall where he stood in a little group of -men. He looked even less of a personage in the morning light than he -had done in the cabin, and the young man suspected that he had gone to -bed in his clothes. This reminded him that he himself was unwashed, -unshaven, and very hungry. Whatsoever the issue of the attack might -be, there was no use in remaining starved and dirty, and he determined -to go below to forage and to find some means of washing. There was no -one to gainsay him at this time of stress, and he walked into Hall's -cabin reflecting that he might safely steal anything he could carry -from the ship, if he were so minded, and slip overboard across the -narrow arm to the bank with nothing worse than a wetting. - -Whilst he was attending to his own necessities, the booming went on -overhead, and at last a shout from above sent him racing up from the -welcome food he had contrived to secure. The wall on Inchbrayock was -shattered in two or three places and the unseen gun was silent. The -cannonade from Dial Hill had stopped, but a train of figures was -hurrying across from the northern shore of the island, taking shelter -among the bushes and stones. A boat was being lowered from the -_Venture_, for the tide, now sweeping in, had covered the mud, making -a landing possible. Men were crowding into her, and as Flemington got -round to his former place of observation she was being pushed off. - -Hall, who was standing alone, caught sight of him and came towards -him; his face looked swollen and puffy, and his eyes were bloodshot. - -"We have been attacked," he began--"attacked most unexpectedly!" - -"I had the honour to report that possibility to you last night, sir," -replied Flemington, with a trifle of insolence in his manner. - -An angry look shot out of Hall's rabbit eyes. "What could you possibly -have known about such a thing?" he cried. "What reason had you for -making such a statement?" - -"I had a great many," said Archie, "but you informed me that you had -no leisure to listen to any of them until this morning. Perhaps you -are at leisure now?" - -"You are a damned impudent scoundrel!" cried the other, noticing -Flemington's expression, which amply justified these words, "but you -had better take care! There is nothing to prevent me from putting you -under arrest." - -"Nothing but the orders I carry in my pocket," replied Archie. "They -are likely enough to deter you." - -The other opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so a shot -crashed into the fore part of the ship, and a hail of bullets ripped -out from the thicket on the island; the boat, which was half-way -between the _Venture_ and Inchbrayock, spun round, and two of the -rowers fell forward over their oars. Hall left Archie standing where -he was. - -The gun that the ship's gunners believed themselves to have disabled -had opened fire again, after a silence that had been, perhaps, but a -lure to draw a sortie from her; and as it was mere destruction for the -boat to attempt a landing in the face of the shot, she had orders to -put back. - -The position in which he was placed was now becoming clear to Hall. He -was cut off from communication with the quays by the guns safely -entrenched on the island, and those on Dial Hill, though out of range -for the moment, would prevent him from moving nearer to the watermouth -or making an attempt to get out to sea. He could not tell what was -happening in the town opposite, and he had no means of finding out, -for the whole of the cannon that he had been mad enough to leave by -the shore was in the enemy's possession, and would remain so unless -the townspeople should rise in the Government interest for their -recapture. This he was well aware they would not do. - -His resentment against his luck, and the tale-bearing voice within, -which told him that he had nothing to thank for it but his own -carelessness, grew more insistent as his head grew clearer. He had -been jerked out of sleep, heavy-headed, and with a brain still dulled -by drink, but the morning freshness worked on him, and the sun warmed -his senses into activity. The sight of Flemington, clean, impertinent, -and entirely comprehensive of the circumstances, drove him mad; and it -drove him still madder to know that Archie understood why he had been -unwilling to see his report last night. - -Hall's abilities were a little superior to his looks. So far he had -served his country, not conspicuously, but without disaster, and had -he been able to keep himself as sober as most people contrived to be -in those intemperate days, he might have gone on his course with the -same tepid success. He was one who liked the distractions of towns, -and he bemoaned the fate that had sent him to anchor in a dull creek -of the East Coast, where the taverns held nothing but faces whose -unconcealed dislike forbade conviviality, and where even the light -women looked upon his uniform askance. He was not a lively comrade at -the best of times, and here, where he was thrown upon the sole society -of his officers, with whom he was not popular, he was growing more -morose and more careless as his habits of stealthy excess grew upon -him. Archie, with his quick judgment of his fellow-men, had measured -him accurately, and he knew it. In the midst of the morning's disaster -the presence of the interloper, his flippant civility of word and -insolence of manner, made his sluggish blood boil. - -It was plain that the party on the island must be dislodged before -anything could be done to save the situation, and Hall now decided to -land as large a force as he could spare upon the mainland. By marching -it along the road to Ferryden he would give the impression that some -attempt was to be made to cross the strait nearer to the coast, and to -land it between Dial Hill and the sea. Behind Ferryden village a rough -track turned sharply southward up the bank, and this they were to -take; they would be completely hidden from Inchbrayock once they had -got over the crest of the land, and they were to double back with all -speed along the mainland under shelter of the ridge, and to go for -about a mile parallel with the Basin. When they had got well to the -westward side of the island, they were to wheel down to the Basin's -shore at a spot where a grove of trees edged the brink; for here, in a -sheltering turn of backwater among the trunks and roots, a few boats -were moored for the convenience of those who wished to cross straight -to Montrose by water instead of taking the usual path by the -stepping-stones over Inchbrayock Island. - -They were to embark at this place, and, hugging the shore, under cover -of its irregularities, to approach Inchbrayock from the west. If they -should succeed in landing unseen, they would surprise the enemy at the -further side of the graveyard whilst his attention was turned on the -_Venture_. The officer to be sent in command of the party believed it -could be done, because the length of the island would intervene to -hide their manoeuvres from the town, where the citizens, crowding on -the quays, would be only too ready to direct the notice of the rebels -to their approach. - -As the boat put off from the ship Archie slipped into it; he seemed to -have lost his definite place in the scheme of things during the last -twenty-four hours; he was nobody's servant, nobody's master, nobody's -concern; and in spite of his bold reply to Hall's threat of arrest, he -knew quite well that though the captain would stop short of such a -measure, he might order him below at any moment; the only wonder was -that he had not done so already. He did not know into what hands he -might fall, should Hall be obliged to surrender, and this contingency -appeared to be growing likely. By tacking himself on to the -landing-party he would at least have the chance of action, and though, -having been careful to keep out of Hall's sight, he had not been able -to discover their destination, he had determined to land with the men. - -After they had disembarked, he went boldly up to the officer in charge -of the party and asked for permission to go with it, and when this was -accorded with some surprise, he fell into step. As they tramped along -towards Ferryden, he managed to pick up something of the work in hand -from the man next to him. His only fear was of the chance of running -against Logie; nevertheless, he made up his mind to trust to luck to -save him from that, because he believed that Logie, as a professional -soldier, would be in command of the guns on the hill. It was from Dial -Hill that the tactical details of the attack could best be directed, -and if either of the conspirators were upon the island, Archie was -convinced it would be Ferrier. - -They soon reached Ferryden. The sun was clear and brave in the salt -air over the sea, and a flock of gulls was screaming out beyond the -bar, dipping, hovering, swinging sideways against the light breeze, -now this way, now that way, their wanton voices full of mockery, as -though the derisive spirits imprisoned in the ocean had become -articulate, and were crying out on the land. The village looked -distrustfully at the approach of the small company, and some of the -fisher-wives dragged their children indoors as if they thought to see -them kidnapped. Such men as were hanging about watched them with -sullen eyes as they turned in between the houses and made for the -higher ground. - -The boom of the _Venture's_ guns came to them from time to time, and -once they heard a great shout rise from the quays, but they could see -nothing because of the intervening swell of the land. They passed a -farm and a few scattered cottages; but these were empty, for their -inmates had gone to the likeliest places they could find for a view of -what was happening in the harbour. - -Presently they went down to the Basin, straggling by twos and threes. -At the water's edge a colony of beeches stood naked and leafless, -their heads listed over westward by the winds that swept up the -river's mouth. They were crowded thick about the creek down which -Flemington and his companions came, and at their feet, tied to the -gnarled elbows of the great roots beneath which the water had eaten -deep into the bank, lay three or four boats with their oars piled -inside them. The beech-mast of years had sunk into the soil, giving a -curious mixture of heaviness and elasticity to the earth as it was -trodden; a water-rat drew a lead-coloured ripple along the -transparency, below which the undulations of the bottom lay like a -bird's-eye view of some miniature world. The quiet of this hidden -landing-place echoed to the clank of the rowlocks as the heavy oars -were shipped, and two boatloads slid out between the stems. - -Archie, who was unarmed, had borrowed one of the officer's pistols, -not so much with the intention of using it as from the wish for a -plausible pretext for joining the party. At any time his love of -adventure would welcome such an opportunity, and at this moment he did -not care what might happen to him. He seemed to have no chance of -being true to anybody, and it was being revealed to him that, in these -circumstances, life was scarcely endurable. He had never thought about -it before, and he could think of nothing else now. It was some small -comfort to know that, should his last half-hour of life be spent on -Inchbrayock, Madam Flemington would at least understand that she had -wronged him in suspecting him of being a turncoat. If only James could -know that he had not betrayed him--or, rather, that his report was in -the hands of that accursed beggar before they met among the -broom-bushes! Yet, what if he did know it? Would his loathing of the -spy under the roof-tree of his brother's house be any the less? He -would never understand--never know. And yet he had been true to him in -his heart, and the fact that he had now no roof-tree of his own proved -it. - -They slipped in under the bank of the island and disembarked silently. -The higher ground in the middle of it crossed their front like the -line of an incoming wave, hiding all that was going on on its farther -side. They were to advance straight over it, and to rush down upon the -thicket where the gun was entrenched with its muzzle towards the -_Venture_. There was to be no working round the north shore, lest the -hundreds of eyes on the quays should catch sight of them, and a -hundred tongues give the alarm to the rebels. They were to attack at -once, only waiting for the sound of another shot to locate the exact -place for which they were to make. They stood drawn up, waiting for -the order. - -Archie dropped behind the others. His heart had begun to sink. He had -assured himself over and over again that Logie must be on Dial Hill; -yet as each moment brought him nearer to contact with the enemy, he -felt cold misgiving stealing on him. What if his guesses had been -wrong? He knew that he had been a fool to run the risk he had taken. -Chance is such a smiling, happy-go-lucky deity when we see her afar -off; but when we are well on our steady plod towards her, and the -distance lessens between us, it is often all that we can do to meet -her eyes--their expression has changed. Archie's willingness to take -risks was unfailing and temperamental, and he had taken this one in -the usual spirit, but so much had happened lately to shake his -confidence in life and in himself that his high heart was beating -slower. Never had he dreaded anything as much as he dreaded James's -knowledge of the truth; yet the most agonizing part of it all was that -James could not know the whole truth, nor understand it, even if he -knew it. Archie's reading of the other man's character was accurate -enough to tell him that no knowledge of facts could make Logie -understand the part he had played. - -Sick at heart, he stood back from the party, watching it gather before -the officer. He did not belong to it; no one troubled his head about -him, and the men's backs were towards him. He stole away, sheltered by -a little hillock, and ran, bent almost double, to the southern shore -of the island. He would creep round it and get as near as possible to -the thicket. If he could conceal himself, he might be able to see the -enemy and the enemy's commander, and to discover the truth while there -was yet time for flight. He glanced over his shoulder to see if the -officer had noticed his absence, and being reassured, he pressed on. -He knew that anyone who thought about him at all would take him for a -coward, but he did not reckon that. The dread of meeting James -possessed him. - -Sheep were often brought over to graze the island, and their tracks -ran like network among the bushes. He trod softly in and out, anxious -to get forward before the next sound of the gun should let loose the -invading-party upon the rebels. He passed the end of the -stepping-stones which crossed the Esk's bed to the mainland; they were -now nearly submerged by the tide rising in the river. He had not known -of their existence, and as he noticed them with surprise, a shot shook -the air, and though the thicket, now not far before him, blocked his -view of the _Venture's_ hull, he saw the tops of her masts tremble, -and knew that she had been struck. - -Before him, the track took a sharp turn round a bend of the shore, -which cut the path like a little promontory, so that he could see -nothing beyond it, and here he paused. In another few minutes the -island would be in confusion from the attack, and he might discover -nothing. He set his teeth and stepped round the corner. - -The track widened out and then plunged into the fringe of the thicket. -A man was kneeling on one knee with his back to Flemington; his hands -were shading his eyes, and he was peering along a tunnel-shaped gap in -the branches, through which could be seen a patch of river and the -damaged bows of the _Venture_. - -Archie's instinct was to retreat, but before he could do so, the man -jumped up and faced him. His heart leaped to his mouth, for it was -James. - - * * * * * - -Logie stood staring at him. Then he made a great effort to pick up the -connecting-link of recollection that he felt sure he must have -dropped. He had been so much absorbed in the business in hand that he -found it impossible for a moment to estimate the significance of any -outside matter. Though he was confounded and disturbed by the -unlooked-for apparition of the painter, the idea of hostility never -entered his mind. - -"Flemington?" he exclaimed, stepping towards him. - -But the other man's expression was so strange that he stopped, -conscious of vague disaster. What had the intruder come to tell him? -As he stood, Flemington murmured something he could not distinguish, -then turned quickly in his tracks. - -Logie leaped after him, and seized him by the shoulder before he had -time to double round the bend. - -"Let me go!" cried Archie, his chest heaving; "let me go, man!" - -But James's grip tightened; he was a strong man, and he almost dragged -him over. As he held him, he caught sight of the Government pistol in -his belt. It was one that the officer who had lent it to Flemington -had taken from the ship. - -He jerked Archie violently round and made a snatch at the weapon, and -the younger man, all but thrown off his balance, thrust his arm -convulsively into the air. His sleeve shot back, laying bare a round, -red spot outside the brown, sinewy wrist. - -Then there flashed retrospectively before James's eye that same wound, -bright in the blaze of the flaming paper; and with it there flashed -comprehension. - -His impulse was to draw his own pistol, and to shoot the spy dead, but -Archie recovered his balance, and was grappling with him so that he -could not get his arm free. The strength of the slim, light young man -astonished him. He was as agile as a weasel, but James found in him, -added to his activity, a force that nearly matched his own. - -There was no possible doubt of Logie's complete enlightenment, though -he kept his crooked mouth shut and uttered no word. His eyes wore an -expression not solely due to the violent struggle going on; they were -terrible, and they woke the frantic instinct of self-preservation in -Flemington. He knew that James was straining to get out his own -pistol, and he hung on him and gripped him for dear life. As they -swayed and swung to and fro, trampling the bents, there rose from -behind the graveyard a yell that gathered and broke over the sound of -their own quick breaths like a submerging flood, and the bullets began -to whistle over the rising ground. - -Archie saw a change come into James's eyes; then he found himself -staggering, hurled with swift and tremendous force from his -antagonist. He was flung headlong against the jutting bend round which -he had come, and his forehead struck it heavily; then, rolling down to -the track at its foot, he lay stunned and still. - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE INTERESTED SPECTATOR - -AS James Logie dashed back to his men to meet this unexpected attack, -he left Flemington lying with his face to the bank and his back -towards the river; he was so close to the edge of the island that his -hair rested on the wet sand permeated by the returning tide coming up -the Esk. James's whole mind had gone back like a released spring to -its natural preoccupation, and he almost forgot him before he had time -to join the brisk affray that was going on. - -But though Archie lay where he fell, and was as still as a heap of -driftwood, it was only a few minutes before he came to himself. -Perhaps the chill of the damp sand under his head helped to revive -him; perhaps the violence of the blow had been broken by the sod -against which he had been hurled. He stirred and raised himself, -dazed, but listening to the confused sounds of fighting that rang over -Inchbrayock. His head hurt him, and instinctively he grubbed up a -handful of the cold, wet sand and held it to his brow. His wits had -not gone far, for there had been no long break in his consciousness, -and he got on his feet and looked round for the best means of escape. - -James knew all. That was plain enough; and on the issue of the -skirmish his own liberty would depend if he did not get clear of the -island at once. He went back round the bend, and looking up the shore -he saw a couple of the stepping-stones which were only half covered by -the tide. In the middle of the channel they had disappeared already, -but at either edge they lay visible, like the two ends of a partly -submerged chain. Blood was trickling down his face, but he washed it -off, and made hastily for the crossing, wading in. - -The Esk was not wide just there, though it was far deeper than he had -fancied it, and he stumbled along, churning up the mud into an opaque -swirl through which he could not see the bottom. He climbed the -further bank, wasting no time in looking behind him, and never stopped -until he stood, panting and dizzy, on the high ridge of land from -which he could overlook Inchbrayock and the harbour and town. He was a -good deal exhausted, for his head throbbed like a boiling pot, and his -hands were shaking. He lay down in a patch of whins, remembering that -he was on the sky-line. He meant to see which way the fortunes of war -were going to turn before deciding what to do with himself. Thanks to -chance, his business with Captain Hall was not finished, nor even -begun; but as things seemed at present, Captain Hall might be a -prisoner before the leisure which had been the subject of his own -gibes that morning should arrive. The vessel's guns had roared out -again as he struggled up the steep, but there had been silence on the -island, and even the rattle of musketry had now stopped. Something -decisive must have taken place, though he could not guess what it was, -and he was too far away to distinguish more than the moving figures in -the graveyard. - -He was high enough to see the curve of the watery horizon, for -Ferryden village was some way below him. His view was only interrupted -by a group of firs that stood like an outpost between him and the -land's end. He lay among his friendly whin-bushes, staring down on the -strait. If James were victorious he knew that there would soon be a -hue and cry on his own tracks; but though alive to the desirableness -of a good start in these circumstances, he felt that he could not run -while there remained any chance of laying the whole of his report -before Captain Hall. He thought, from what he had seen of the man, -that the less he was reckoned with by his superiors the better, but it -was not his business to consider that. As he turned these things over -in his mind his eyes were attracted to Dial Hill, upon which the -sudden sign of a new turn of events could be read. - -He could see the group of men with the guns below the flagstaff which -crowned its summit, and what now attracted his attention was a dark -object that had been run up the ropes, its irregular outline flapping -and flying against the sky as it was drawn frantically up and down. - -Flemington was blessed with long sight, and he was certain that the -two sharp-cut ends that waved like streamers as the dark object dipped -and rose, were the sleeves of a man's coat. He saw a figure detach -itself from the rest and run towards the seaward edge of the eminence. -Ferrier--for he supposed now that Ferrier was on the hill--must be -signalling out to sea with this makeshift flag. - -He half raised himself from his lair. The cold grey-green of the ocean -spread along the world's edge, broken by tiny streaks of foam as the -wind began to freshen, and beyond the fir-trees, seen through their -stems, the reason of the activity on Dial Hill slid into sight. - -A ship was coming up the coast not a couple of miles out, and as -Flemington watched her she stood in landward, as though attracted out -of her course by the signals and the sound of firing in Montrose -harbour. She was too far off for him to distinguish her colours, but -he knew enough about shipping to be certain that she was a French -frigate. - -He dropped back into his place; whilst these sensational matters were -going forward he did not suppose that anyone would think of pursuing -him. The fact that the rebels were signalling her in suggested that -the stranger might not be unexpected, and in all probability she -carried French supplies and Jacobite troops. The likelihood of an -interview with Captain Hall grew more remote. - -The frigate drew closer; soon she was hidden from him by the jutting -out of the land. Another shot broke from the _Venture_, but the quick -reply from the island took all doubt of the issue of the conflict from -Archie's mind. James was in full possession of the place, and the -surprise must have been a failure. - -Archie watched eagerly to see the ship arrive in the river-mouth. It -was evident that Hall, from his position under the south shore of the -strait, had not seen her yet. Presently she rounded the land and -appeared to the hundreds of eyes on the quays, a gallant, silent, -winged creature, a vivid apparition against the band of sea beyond the -opening channel of the Esk, swept towards the town as though by some -unseen impulse of fate. The shout that went up as she came into view -rose to where Archie lay on the hillside. - -The tide was now running high, and she passed in under Dial Hill. Her -deck was covered with troops, and the waving of hats and the cheers of -the townspeople, who were pouring along the further side of the -harbour, made the truth plain to the solitary watcher among the whins. -The _Venture_ sent a shot to meet her that fell just in front of her -bows, but although it was followed by a second, that cut her rigging, -no great harm was done, and she answered with a broadside that echoed -off the walls of the town till the strait was in a roar. It had no -time to subside before James's gun on Inchbrayock began again. - -Flemington could see that Hall's surrender could only be a matter of -time; the new-comer would soon be landing her troops out of his range, -and, having done so, would be certain to attack the _Venture_ from the -Ferryden side of the river. Half of Hall's men were on the island, -which was in possession of the rebels, his vessel was damaged and in -no condition to escape to sea, even had there been no hostile craft in -his way and no Dial Hill to stand threatening between him and the -ocean. - -The time had come for Archie to think of his own plight and of his own -prospects. He was adrift again, cut off even from the disorderly ship -that had sheltered him last night, and from the unlucky sot who -commanded her. His best plan would be to take the news of Hall's -capture to Edinburgh, for it would be madness for him to think of -going to Perth, whilst his identity as a Government agent would be -published by Ferrier and Logie all over that part of the country. He -was cast down as he sat with his hand to his aching head, and now that -it had resulted in that fatal meeting, his own folly in going to the -island seemed incredible. - -His luck had been so good all his life, and after the many years that -he had trusted her, the jade had turned on him! He had been too -high-handed with her, that was the explanation of it! He had asked too -much. He had been over-confident in her, over-confident in himself. -Flemington was neither vain nor conceited, being too heartily -interested in outside things to take very personal points of view; he -merely went straight on, with the joy of life lighting his progress. -But now he had put the crown on his foolhardiness. He had had so many -good things--strength, health, wits, charm; the stage of his stirring -life whereon to use them, and behind that stage the peaceful -background of the home he loved, filled with the presence of the being -he most admired and revered on earth. - -But new lights had broken in on him of late. Troublous lights, playing -from behind a curtain that hid unknown things. Suddenly he had turned -and followed them, impelled by uncomprehended forces in himself, and -it seemed that in consequence all around him had shifted, -disintegrated, leaving him stranded. Once more as he watched, his -anxious eyes on the scene below him, his heart full of his own -perplexities, a last roar of shot filled the harbour, and then, on the -_Venture_, he saw the flag hauled down. - -He rose and looked about him, telling himself that he must get as far -from the neighbourhood of Montrose as he could in the shortest -possible time. Sixty miles of land stretched between him and -Edinburgh, and the only thing for him to do was to start by way of the -nearest seaport from which he could sail for Leith. He was a very -different figure from the well-appointed young man who had ridden away -from Ardguys only yesterday, for he was soaked to above the knees from -wading in the Esk; blood had dripped on his coat from the cut on his -forehead, and his hair at the back was clogged with sand. Excitement -had kept him from thinking how cold he was, and he had not known that -he was shivering; but he knew it as he stood in the teeth of the fresh -wind. He laughed in spite of his plight; it was so odd to think of -starting for Edinburgh from a whin-bush. - -He turned southwards, determining to go forward till he should strike -the road leading to the seaport of Aberbrothock; by sticking to the -high ground he would soon come to it at the inland end of the Basin, -and by it he might reach Aberbrothock by nightfall, and thence take -sail in the morning. This was the best plan he could devise, though he -did not care to contemplate the miles he would have to trudge. He knew -that the broken coast took a great inward curve, and that by this -means he would be avoiding its ins and outs, and he wished that he did -not feel so giddy and so little able to face his difficulties. He -remembered that the money he had on him made a respectable sum, and -realized that the less worth robbing he looked, the more likely he -would be to get to his journey's end in safety. He stepped out with an -effort; southward he must go, and for some time to come Angus must -know him no more. - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -IN SEARCH OF SENSATION - -WHEN Skirling Wattie had delivered his letter to Flemington on the -foregoing day, he watched the young man out of sight with disgust, and -cursed him for a high-handed jackanapes. He was not used to be treated -in such a fashion. There was that about Archie which took his fancy, -for the suggestion of stir and movement that went everywhere with -Flemington pleased him, and roused his unfailing curiosity. The -beggar's most pleasant characteristic was his interest in everybody -and everything; his worst, the unseasonable brutality with which he -gratified it. - -A livelihood gained by his own powers of cajolery and persistence had -left him without a spark of respect for his kind. He would have been a -man of prowess had his limbs been intact--and destiny, in robbing his -body of activity, had transferred that quality to his brains. His huge -shoulders and broad fists, the arrogant male glare of his roving eye, -might well hint at the wisdom of providence in keeping his sphere of -action to the narrow limits of a go-cart. Those who look for -likenesses between people and animals would be reminded by him of a -wild boar; and it was almost shocking to anyone with a sense of -fitness to hear the mellow and touching voice, rich with the -indescribable quiver of pathos and tragedy, that proceeded from his -bristly jaws when he sang. The world that it conjured up before -imaginative listeners was a world of twilight; of stars that drew a -trail of tear-dimmed lustre about the ancient haunted places of the -country; stars that had shone on battlefields and on the partings of -lovers; that had looked on the raids of the border, and had stood over -the dark border-towers among the peat. It was a strange truth that, in -the voice of this coarse and humble vagabond, lay the whole -distinctive spirit of the national poetry of Scotland. - -In the last few months his employment had added new zest to his life, -for it was not only the pay he received for his occasional carrying of -letters that was welcome to him; his bold and guileful soul delighted -in the occupation for its own sake. He was something of a student of -human nature, as all those who live by their wits must be of -necessity; and the small services he was called upon to give brought -him into contact with new varieties of men. Archie was new to him, -and, in the beggar's opinion, immeasurably more amusing than anyone he -had seen yet. In modern parlance he would be called 'a sportsman,' -this low-bred old ruffian who had lost his legs, and who was left to -the mercy of his own ingenuity and to the efforts of the five dumb -animals which supplemented his loss. He had--all honour to him--kept -his love of life and its chances through his misfortune; and though he -did not know it himself, it was his recognition of the same spirit in -Flemington that made him appreciate the young man. - -His services to the state had not been important up to the present -time. A few letters carried, a little information collected, had been -the extent of his usefulness. But, though he was not in their regular -employ, the authorities were keeping a favourable eye on him, for he -had so far proved himself capable, close-mouthed, and a very miracle -of local knowledge. - -He sat in his cart looking resentfully after Flemington between the -stems of the alders and the lattice of their golden-brown leaves, and, -though the one word tossed over the rider's shoulders did not tell him -much, he determined he would not lose sight of Archie if he could help -it. "Brechin" might mean anything from a night's lodging to a -lengthened stay, but he would follow him as far as he dared and set -about discovering his movements. Skirling Wattie had friends in -Brechin, as he had in most places round about, and certain bolt-holes -of his own wherein he could always find shelter for himself and his -dogs; but he did not mean to trust himself nearer than these refuges -to Lord Balnillo, at any rate, not for a few days. Chance had relieved -him of the letter for which he was responsible sooner than he -expected, and at present he was a free man. He roused his team, tucked -his pipes into their corner of the cart, and, guiding himself -carefully between the trees, issued from the thicket like some ribald -vision of goblinry escaped from the world of folk-lore. - -He turned towards Brechin, and set off for the town at a brisk trot, -the yellow dog straining at his harness, and his comrades taking their -pace from him. Every inch of the road was known to Wattie, every tree -and tuft, every rut and hole; and as there were plenty of these last, -he bumped and swung along in a way that would have dislocated the -bones of a lighter person. The violent roughness of his progress was -what served him for exercise and kept him in health. There were not -many houses near the highway, but the children playing round the doors -of the few he passed hailed him with shouts, and he answered them, as -he answered everyone, with his familiar wag of the head. - -When he entered Brechin and rolled past the high, circular shaft of -its round tower, the world made way for him with a grin, and when it -was not agile enough to please him, he heralded himself with a shrill -note from the chanter, which he had unscrewed from his pipes. Business -was business with him. He meant to lie in the town to-night, but he -was anxious to get on to Flemington's tracks before the scent was -cold. - -He drove to the Swan inn and entered the yard, and there he had the -satisfaction of seeing Archie's horse being rubbed down with a wisp of -straw. Its rider, he made out, had left the inn on foot half an hour -earlier, so, with this meagre clue, he sought the streets and the -company of the idlers haunting their thievish corners, to whom the -passing stranger and what might be made out of him were the best -interests of the day. By the time the light was failing he had traced -Flemington down to the river, where he had been last seen crossing the -bridge. The beggar was a good deal surprised; he could not imagine -what was carrying Archie away from the place. - -In the dusk he descended the steep streets running down to the Esk, -and, slackening his pace, took out a short, stout pair of crutches -that he kept beside him, using them as brakes on either side of the -cart. People who saw Wattie for the first time would stand, -spell-bound, to watch the incredible spectacle of his passage through -a town, but, to the inhabitants of Brechin, he was too familiar a -sight for anything but the natural widening of the mouth that his -advent would produce from pure force of habit. - -The lights lit here and there were beginning to repeat themselves in -the water, and men were returning to their houses after the day's work -as he stopped his cart and sent out that surest of all attractions, -the first notes of 'The Tod,' into the gathering mists of the -river-side. By ones and twos, the details of a sympathetic audience -drew together round him as his voice rose over the sliding rush of the -Esk. Idlers on the bridge leaned over the grey arches as the sound -came to them above the tongue of the little rapid that babbled as it -lost itself in the shadow of the woods downstream. - -Then the pipes took up their tune. Jests and roars of laughter oiled -the springs of generosity, and the good prospects of supper and a bed -began to smile upon the beggar. When darkness set in, he turned his -wheels towards a shed that a publican had put at his disposal for the -night, and he and his dogs laid themselves down to rest in its -comfortable straw. The yellow cur, relieved from his harness, stole -closer and closer to his master and lay with his jowl against the -pipes. Presently Wattie's dirty hand went out and sought the coarse -head of his servant. - -"Doag," he was muttering, as he went to sleep. - -Perhaps in all the grim, grey little Scottish town, no living creature -closed its eyes more contentedly than the poor cur whose head was -pillowed in paradise because of the touch that was on it. - -Morning found man and dogs out betimes and migrating to the heart of -the town. Wattie was one who liked to get an early draught from the -fountain-head of news, to be beforehand, so to speak, with his day. -The Swan inn was his goal, and he had not got up the hill towards it -when his practised eye, wise in other men's movements, saw that the -world was hurrying along, drawn by some magnet stronger than its -legitimate work. The women were running out of their houses too. As he -toiled up the steep incline, a figure burst from the mouth of a wynd -and came flying down the middle of the narrow way. - -"Hey! what ails ye, man? What's 'ahind ye?" he cried, stopping his -cart and spreading out his arms as though to embrace the approaching -man. - -The other paused. He was a pale, foolish-looking youth, whose progress -seemed as little responsible as that of a discharged missile. - -"There's fechtin'!" he yelled, apparently addressing the air in -general. - -"Fechtin'?" - -"Ay, there's fechtin' at Montrose this hour syne! Div ye no hear them, -ye deef muckle swine?" continued the youth, rendered abusive by -excitement. - -The two stared in each other's faces as those do who listen. Dull and -distant, a muffled boom drove in from the coast. A second throb -followed it. - -The youth dropped his raised hands and fled on. - -Wattie turned his dogs, and set off down the hill without more delay. -Here was the reason that Archie had left the town! It was in -expectation of this present disturbance on the coast that he had -slipped out of Brechin by the less frequented road round the Basin. - -He scurried down the hill, scattering the children playing in the -kennel with loud imprecations and threats. He sped over the bridge, -and was soon climbing the rise on the farther side of the Esk. If -there was fighting going on, he would make shift to see it, and -Montrose would be visible from most of his road. Soon he would get a -view of the distant harbour, and would see the smoke of the guns whose -throats continued to trouble the air. Also, he would get forward -unmolested, for there would be the width of the Basin between himself -and Lord Balnillo. - -He breathed his team when he reached the top of the hill; for he was a -scientific driver, and he had some way to go. He cast a glance down at -the place he had left, rejoicing that no one had followed him out of -it. When he was on his own errands he did not like company, -preferring, like most independent characters, to develop his -intentions in the perfect freedom of silence. - -When he drew near enough to distinguish the _Venture_, a dark spot -under the lee of Ferryden, he saw the white puffs of smoke bursting -from her, and the answering clouds rising from the island. There had -been no time to hear the rumours of the morning before he met the pale -young man, or he would have learned that a body of Prince Charles's -men under Ferrier had left Brechin last night whilst he lay sound -asleep in the straw among his dogs. He could not imagine where the -assailants had come from who were pounding at the ship from -Inchbrayock. - -The fields sloped away from him to the water, leaving an uninterrupted -view. He pressed on to the cross-roads at which he must turn along the -Basin's shore. From there on, the conformation of the land, and the -frequent clumps of trees, would shut out both town and harbour from -his sight until he came parallel with the island. - -He halted at the turning for a last look at the town. The firing had -ceased, which reconciled him a little to the eclipse of the distant -spectacle; then he drove on again, unconscious of the sight he was to -miss. For, unsuspected by him, as by the crowd thronging the quays of -Montrose, the French frigate was creeping up the coast, and she made -her appearance in the river-mouth just as Wattie began the tamer stage -of his journey. - -The yellow cur and his companions toiled along at their steady trot, -their red tongues hanging. The broadside from the French ship rang -inland, and the beggar groaned, urging them with curses and chosen -abuse. His intimate knowledge of the neighbourhood led him to steer -for the identical spot on which Flemington, crouched in his whin-bush, -had looked down on the affray, and he hoped devoutly that he might -reach that point of vantage while there was still something to be seen -from it. Silence had settled on the strait once more. - -Not far in front a man was coming into sight, the first creature -Wattie had seen since leaving Brechin, whose face was turned from the -coast. He seemed a person of irresolute mind, as well as of -vacillating feet, for every few yards he would stop, hesitating, -before resuming his way. The beggar cursed him heartily for a -drunkard, for, though he had a lively sympathy with backsliders of -that kind, he knew that accurate information was the last thing to be -expected from them. Before the wayfarers had halved the distance -between them the man stopped, and sitting down by the tumbledown stone -dyke at the roadside, dropped his head in his hands. As the cart -passed him a few minutes later, he raised a ghastly face, and Skirling -Wattie pulled up astounded, with a loud and profane exclamation, as he -recognized Flemington. - -Though Archie had been glad to escape from the beggar yesterday, he -was now thankful to see anyone who might pass for a friend. He tried -to smile, but his eyes closed again, and he put out his hand towards -the dyke. - -"I'm so devilish giddy," he said. - -Wattie looked at the cut on his head and the stains of blood on his -coat. - -"Ye've gotten a rare dunt," he observed. - -Archie, who seemed to himself to be slipping off the rounded edge of -the world, made no reply. - -The other sat eyeing him with perplexity and some impatience. He did -not know what he wanted most--to get to Montrose, or to get news out -of Flemington. The dogs lay down in the mud. Flemington kept his hand -to his eyes for a minute, and then lifted his head again. - -"The ship has surrendered," he said, speaking with difficulty; "I have -been on the high ground watching. She struck her flag. A French -frigate----" - -He stopped again. The road on which he sat was whirling down into -illimitable space. - -The other took in his plight. His coat, torn in his struggle with -Logie, was full of whin-prickles, and the wet mud was caked on his -legs. His soft, silky hair was flattened on his forehead. - -"Ye've been fechtin' yersel', ma lad," said Wattie. "Whaur hae ye -been?" - -"There's a rebel force on Inchbrayock," said Archie, with another -effort; "I have been on the island. Yes, I've been fighting. A man -recognized me--a man I saw at--on the road by Balnillo. They will be -hunting me soon, and I have papers on me they must not find, and -money--all the money I have. God knows how I am to get away! I must -get to Aberbrothock." - -"What was ye sayin' aboot the French?" - -In broken sentences, and between his fits of giddiness, Archie -explained the situation in the harbour, and the beggar listened, his -bristly brows knit, his bonnet thrust back on his bald head; and his -own best course of action grew clear to him. Montrose would soon be -full of rebel soldiers, and though these might be generous audiences -when merry with wine and loose upon the streets, their presence would -make him no safer from Lord Balnillo. Wattie knew that the judge's -loyalty was beginning to be suspected, and that he might well have -friends among the Prince's officers, whose arrival might attract him -to the town. And to serve Archie would be a good recommendation for -himself with his employers, to say nothing of any private gratitude -that the young man might feel. - -"Bide you whaur ye are!" he exclaimed, rousing his dogs. "Lad, a'll -hae to ca' ye oot o' this, an' dod! we'll need a' our time!" - -Not far from them a spring was trickling from the fields, dropping in -a spurt through the damp mosses between the unpointed stones of the -dyke. The obedient dogs drew their master close to it, and he filled a -battered pannikin that he took from among his small collection of -necessities in the bottom of the cart. He returned with the water, and -when Archie had bathed his head in its icy coldness, he drew a -whisky-bottle from its snug lair under the bagpipes, and forced him to -drink. It was half full, for the friendly publican had replenished his -store before they parted on the foregoing night. As the liquid warmed -his stomach, Archie raised his head slowly. - -"I believe I can walk now," he said at last. - -"Ye'll need to try," observed Wattie dryly. "Ye'll no can ride wi' me. -Come awa', Maister Flemington. Will a gi' ye a skelloch o' the pipes -to help ye alang?" - -"In God's name, no!" cried Archie, whose head was splitting. - -He struggled on to his feet. The whisky was beginning to overcome the -giddiness, and he knew that every minute spent on the highroad was a -risk. - -The beggar was determined to go to Aberbrothock with Archie; he did -not consider him in a fit state to be left alone, and he counselled -him to leave the road at once, and to cut diagonally across the high -ground, whilst he himself, debarred by his wheels from going across -country, drove back to the cross roads, and took the one to the coast. -By doing this the pair would meet, Flemington having taken one side of -the triangle, while Wattie had traversed the other two. They were to -await each other at a spot indicated by the latter, where a bit of -moor encroached on the way. - -As Wattie turned again to retrace his road, he watched his friend -toiling painfully up the slanting ground among the uneven tussocks of -grass with some anxiety. Archie laboured along, pausing now and again -to rest, but he managed to gain the summit of the ridge. Wattie saw -his figure shorten from the feet up as he crossed the sky-line, till -his head and shoulders dropped out of sight like the topsails of a -ship over a clear horizon; he was disappointed at having missed the -sight of so much good fighting. Archie's account had been rather -incoherent, but he gathered that the rebels were in possession of the -harbour, and that a French ship had come in in the middle of the -affray full of rebel troops. He shouted the information to the few -people he met. - -He turned southward at the cross roads. Behind him lay the panorama of -the Basin and the spread of the rolling country; Brechin, the Esk, the -woods of Monrummon Moor, stretching out to Forfar, and, northward, the -Grampians, lying with their long shoulders in the autumn light. His -beat for begging was down there across the water and round about the -country between town and town; but though his activities were in that -direction, he knew Aberbrothock and the coast well, for he had been -born in a fishing-village in one of its creeks, and had spent his -early years at sea. He would be able to put Archie in the way of a -passage to Leith without much trouble and without unnecessary -explanations; Archie had money on him, and could be trusted to pay his -way. - -He was the first to reach the trysting-place, and he drew up, glad to -give his team a rest; at last he saw Archie coming along with the -slow, careful gait of a man who is obliged to consider each step of -his way separately in order to get on at all. - -"Sit ye doon," he exclaimed, as they met. - -"If once I sit down I am lost," said Archie. "Come on." - -He started along the road with the same dogged step, the beggar -keeping alongside. They had gone about half a mile when Flemington -clutched at a wayside bush and then slid to the ground in a heap. - -Wattie pulled up, dismayed, and scanned their surroundings. To let him -lie there by the road was out of the question. He could not tell how -much his head had been injured, but he knew enough to be sure that -exposure and cold might bring a serious illness on a man in his state; -he did not understand that the whisky he had given Archie was the -worst possible thing for him. To the beggar, it was the sovereign -remedy for all trouble of mind or body. - -He cursed his own circumscribed energies; there was no one in sight. -The nearest habitation was a little farmhouse on the skirts of the -moor with one tiny window in its gable-end making a dark spot, high -under the roof. - -Wattie turned his wheels reluctantly towards it. Unwilling though he -was to draw attention to his companion, there was no choice. - - - -CHAPTER XV - -WATTIE HAS THEORIES - -THOUGH Skirling Wattie seldom occupied the same bed on many -consecutive nights, his various resting-places had so great a family -likeness that he could not always remember where he was when he -chanced to wake in the small hours. Sheds, barns, stables harboured -him in the cold months when luck was good; loanings, old quarries, -whin-patches, the alder clump beyond Brechin, or the wall-side at -Magdalen Chapel, in the summer. - -To-night he lay in the barn abutting on the tiny farmhouse at which he -had sought shelter for Archie. He had met with a half-hearted -reception from the woman who came to the door. Her man was away, she -told him, and she was unwilling to admit strangers in his absence. She -had never seen Wattie before, and it was plain that she did not like -his looks. He induced her at last, with the greatest difficulty, to -give shelter in her barn to the comrade whom he described as lying in -extremity at the roadside. Finally, she despatched her son, a youth of -fifteen, to accompany the beggar, and to help to bring the sufferer -back. - -Cold water revived Archie again, and he reached the barn with the -assistance of the lad, who, better disposed than his mother, cut a -bundle of dry heather, which he spread in a corner for his comfort. -The woman looked with silent surprise at her undesired guest; she had -thought to see a fellow-traveller of different condition in company -with the masterful old blackguard in the cart. Her glances and her -expressive silence made Wattie uneasy, but there was no help for their -plight whilst Flemington could scarcely stand. - -The beggar had spent the rest of that day in the barn. He was not -suffered to enter the farm, nor was he offered any food; but he had -enough store by him from what he had collected in Brechin for his own -needs and those of his team. Archie's only requirement was the bowl of -water that his companion had obtained from the boy. He lay alternately -dozing and tossing on his pile of heather. His body was chilled for -his high boots had been full of the Esk water, and Wattie had -hesitated to draw them off, lest he should be unable to get them on -again after their soaking. - -Night fell on the barn at last. Wattie slept sound, with the yellow -cur's muzzle against his shoulder; but he awoke towards midnight, for -Archie's feverish voice was coming from the corner in which he lay. He -inclined his ear, attracted by the recurrent name of Logie which ran -through the disconnected babblings, rising again and again like some -half-drowned object carried along a swift stream. The darkness made -every word seem more distinct. - -"Listen to me!" cried Flemington. "Logie! Logie! you do not understand -. . . it is safe . . . it is burnt! Nobody shall know it from me. -. . . I cannot take your money, Logie . . . I will tell you -everything, but you will not understand. . . ." - -The beggar was holding his breath. - -"I did not guess it was Inchbrayock . . . I thought it would not be -Inchbrayock! Logie, I will say nothing . . . but I will tell you all. -For God's sake, Logie, . . . I swear it is true! . . . Listen. . . ." - -Skirling Wattie could hear him struggling as though he were fighting -for his life. - -"Not to Ardguys . . . I cannot go back to Ardguys! I shall never tell -. . . never, never tell . . . but I shall know where you are! They -shall never know. _Ah!_" cried Archie, raising his voice like a man in -distress calling for help, "it is you, Logie! . . . My God, let me -go!" - -The beggar dragged himself nearer. The fragment of moon did no more -than turn the chinks and cracks of the barn to a dull grey, and he -could hardly see the outline of his companion. - -The nightmares that were tormenting Archie pointed to something that -must have happened before he came by his hurt, and the injury and the -chill had produced these light-headed wanderings; there were troubles -boiling in his mind that he had kept behind his teeth so long as his -tongue was under control. Wattie wondered what was all this talk of -Lord Balnillo's brother. It seemed as if there were some secret -between this man, suspected, as he well knew, of being an active -rebel, and Flemington. Had it been light, Wattie would have tried to -get at the papers that Archie had spoken of as being on him when they -met, for these might give him some clue to the mystery. He sat in the -dark leaning against the wall of the barn, his arms tightly folded -across his great chest, his lips pursed, his gaze bent on the restless -figure that he could just distinguish. - -All at once Archie sat up. - -"Where are you?" he asked in a high, strained voice. - -"A'm here," replied the beggar. - -"Is it you, Logie?" exclaimed Flemington. - -"It's mysel'." - -Wattie smoothed the roughness out of his accent as best he could. The -other seemed to be hovering on the brink of consciousness. He sank -back. - -"It is not Logie," he said; "but you can tell him----" - -Wattie leaned forward and laid his broad palm firmly and very gently -on his shoulder. - -"What'll a' tell him?" said he. - -Flemington turned towards him and groped about with his hot hand. - -"Tell him from me that he can trust me," he said in a hoarse, earnest -whisper. - -The beggar's touch seemed to quiet him. He lay still, murmuring -indistinctly between snatches of silence. Once again he sat up, -groping about. - -"You will not forget?" he said. - -"Na, na," replied Wattie. - -He pushed him gently back, patting him now and again as a nurse might -pat a restless child, and Archie grew calmer. The hand quieted him. -Rough, dirty, guileful, profane as he was, without scruple or -conscience or anything but the desire to do the best for himself, -Skirling Wattie had got, lodged in body or spirit, or in whatsoever -part of man the uncomprehended force dwells, that personal magnetism -which is independent alike of grace and of virtue, which can exist in -a soil that is barren of either. It may have been that which the -yellow cur, with the clear vision belonging to some animals, -recognized and adored; seeing not only the coarse and jovial reprobate -who was his master, but the shadow of the mysterious power that had -touched him. - -The dog, awakened by Archie's cry, found that the beggar had moved, -and drew closer to his side. Flemington dozed off again, and Wattie -sat thinking; he longed to stir him up, that he might have the chance -of hearing more of his rambling talk. But he refrained, not from -humane feeling, but from the fear that the talker, if he were tampered -with, might be too ill to be moved on the morrow. Sleep was his best -chance, and Wattie had made up his mind that if it were possible to -move him, he would prevail on the boy to get a beast from the nearest -place that boasted anything which could carry him to Aberbrothock. He -knew that Flemington could pay for it, and he would direct him to a -small inn in that place whose landlord, besides being a retired -smuggler, was a distant kinsman of his own. The matter of a passage to -Leith could be arranged through the same source for a consideration. -Archie should take his chance by himself. - -He realized with some bitterness the bright opportunities that can be -lost upon a being who has no legs to speak of; for he could easily -have relieved him of what money he carried had he been an able-bodied -man. It was not that he lacked the force for such deeds, but that -honesty was wantonly thrust upon him because his comings and goings -were so conspicuous. Notoriety takes heavy toll; and he had about the -same chance as the king of being conveniently mislaid. He would have -given a good deal for a sight of the papers that Archie carried, and -though the darkness interfered with him now, he promised himself that -he would see them if the morning light should find him still -delirious. He could not make out how ill he was; and in spite of his -curiosity, he was not prepared to befriend him with the chance of his -growing worse. To have him dying upon his hands would be a burden too -great to endure, even should it lead to no awkward questionings. He -would get rid of him to-morrow, whether his curiosity were satisfied -or not: he had heard enough to make him suspect very strongly that -Flemington was in the pay of the rebels as well as in that of the -King. It was a situation that he, personally, could very well -understand. But the night turned, and Archie grew more peaceful as the -hours went by. He had one or two bouts of talking, but they were -incoherent and fitful, and his mind appeared now to be straying among -different phantoms. There was no more about Logie, and Wattie could -only make out the word 'Ardguys,' which he knew as the name of a place -beyond Forfar; and as he had discovered in Brechin that Flemington -lived somewhere in those parts, he guessed that his thoughts were -roving about his home. His breathing grew less laboured, and the -watcher could hear at last that he slept. The moon dropped, and with -her going the crevices lost their greyness and the barn grew black. -The beggar, who was a healthy sleeper, laid himself down again, and in -the middle of his cogitations passed into oblivion. - -When he awoke the place was light, and Archie was looking at him with -intelligent eyes; they were hollow, and there were dark shadows below -them, but they were the eyes of a man in full possession of his wits. - -"We must get out of this place," he said. "I have been standing up, -but my knees seem so heavy I can hardly walk. My bones ache, Wattie; I -believe there is fever in me, but I must get on. Damn it, man, we are -a sorry pair to be cast on the world like this! I fear I took terrible -liberties with your whisky yesterday." - -It was a still, misty morning when the beggar, having harnessed his -dogs, went out to look for the boy. When he was gone, Flemington -fumbled with his shaking fingers for the different packets that he -carried. All were there safely--his letters, his money. He trusted -nobody, and he did not like having to trust the beggar. - -His feverish head and the ague in his bones told him that he could -scarcely hope to get to Aberbrothock on foot. His boots were still -wet, and a bruise on his hip that he had got in falling yesterday had -begun to make itself felt. He propped himself against the wall and -reached out for the water beside him. - -Wattie had been some time away when the barn door opened and the -farm-woman appeared on the threshold, considering him with suspicious -disfavour. - -He dragged himself to his feet and bowed as though he were standing -upon an Aubusson carpet instead of upon a pallet of withered heather. -The action seemed to confirm her distrust. - -"Madam," said he, "I have to thank you for a night's shelter and for -this excellent refreshment. You are too good. I drink to you." - -He raised the broken delf bowl with the drain of water that remained -in it. Being conscious of inhospitality, she was not sure how much -irony lay in his words, and his face told her nothing. - -"It's the last ye'll get here," said she. - -The more she looked at Flemington the more she was impressed by his -undesirability as a guest. She was one of those to whom anything -uncommon seemed a menace. - -"Madam, I notice that you dislike me--why?" - -"Wha are ye?" she inquired after a pause, during which he faced her, -smiling, his eyebrows raised. - -"We are two noblemen, travelling for pleasure," said he. - -She crossed her arms, snorting. - -"Heuch!" she exclaimed contemptuously. "A' wish ma gudeman was hame. -He'd sort the pair o' ye!" - -"If you think we have any design on your virtue," he continued, "I beg -you to dismiss the idea. I assure you, you are safe with us. We are -persons of the greatest delicacy, and my friend is a musician of the -first rank. I myself am what you see--your humble servant and -admirer." - -"Ye're a leear and a Frenchman!" cried she. - -Her eyes blazed. A little more provocation, and she might have -attacked him. At this moment Wattie's cart drove into the yard behind -her, axle deep in the sea of mud and manure that filled the place. She -turned upon the new-comer. She could not deal with Archie, but the -beggar was a foe she could understand, and she advanced, a whirl of -abuse, upon him. The yellow dog's growling rose, battling with her -strident tones, and Archie, seeing the mischief his tongue had -wrought, limped out, fearful of what might happen. - -"Stand awa' frae the doag, wumman! He'll hae the legs o' ye roogit aff -yer henches gin he get's a haud o' ye!" roared Wattie, as the yellow -body leaped and bounded in the traces. - -Amid a hurricane of snarling and shouts he contrived, by plying his -stick, to turn the animals and to get them out of the yard. - -Archie followed him, but before he did so he paused to turn to his -enemy, who had taken shelter in the doorway of the barn. He could not -take off his hat to her because he had no hat to take off, having lost -it on Inchbrayock Island, but he blew a kiss from the points of his -fingers with an air that almost made her choke. Wattie, looking back -over his shoulder, called angrily to him. He could not understand what -he had done to the woman to move her to such a tempest of wrath, but -he told himself that, in undertaking to escort Archie, he had made a -leap in the dark. He would direct him to his cousin's house of -entertainment in Aberbrothock, and return to his own haunts without -delay. - -At the nearest point of road the boy was standing by a sorry-looking -nag that he held by the ear. - -A few minutes later they had parted, and the boy, made happy by the -coin he had been given, was returning to the farm, while the beggar, -who had also reaped some profit in the last twenty-four hours, watched -his late companion disappearing down the road. When he was out of -sight he turned his own wheels in the direction of Brechin, and set -off at a sober pace for that friendly town. He was singing to himself -as he went, first because he owned the price of another bottle of -whisky; secondly, because he was delighted to be rid of Flemington; -and thirdly, because an inspiring idea had come to him. - -His dogs, by the time they drew him into Brechin, would have done two -heavy days' work, and would deserve the comparative holiday he meant -to give them. He would spend to-morrow in the town with his pipes in -the company of that congenial circle always ready to spring from the -gutter on his appearance. Then, after a good night's rest, and when he -should have collected a trifle, he would go on to Forfar and learn for -certain whether Archie lived at Ardguys and who might be found there -in his absence. - -His idea was to arrive at the house with the last tidings of the young -man; to give an account of the attack on the _Venture_, its surrender, -Flemington's injury, and his own part in befriending him. It took some -time, in those days of slow communication, for public news to travel -so much as across a county, but even should the tale of the ship have -reached Ardguys, the news of Archie could scarcely have preceded him. -He hoped to find someone--for preference an anxious mother, who would -be sensible of how much he had done for her son. There would be fresh -profit there. - -And not only profit. There was something else for which the beggar -hoped, though profit was his main object. He pictured some tender, -emotional lady from whose unsuspicious heart he might draw scraps of -information that would fit into his own theories. He would try the -effect of Logie's name, and there would be no harm in taking a general -survey of Flemington's surroundings and picking up any small facts -about him that he could collect. - -His own belief in Archie's double dealing grew stronger as he jogged -along; no doubt that shrewd and unaccountable young man was driving a -stiff trade. There was little question in his mind that the contents -of the letter he had put into his hands by the alder-clump had been -sold to Captain James Logie, and that its immediate result had been -the taking of the ship. He had learned from Archie's ravings that -there had been a question of money between himself and Logie. The part -that he could make nothing of was the suggestion, conveyed by Archie -in the night, that he and the judge's brother had been fighting. "Let -me go, Logie!" he had cried out in the darkness, and the blow on his -forehead, which was bleeding when he found him, proved recent -violence. - -But though he could not explain these puzzles, nor make them tally -with his belief, his theory remained. Flemington was in league with -Logie. For the present he determined to keep his suspicions to -himself. - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE TWO ENDS OF THE LINE - -THREE days afterwards Wattie sat at the gates of Ardguys and looked -between the pale yellow ash-trees at the house. There was nobody about -at the moment to forbid his entrance, and he drove quietly in at a -foot's pace and approached the door. The sun shone with the clear -lightness of autumn, and the leaves, which had almost finished the -fitful process of falling, lay gathered in heaps by the gate, for -Madam Flemington liked order. On the steep pitch of the ancient slate -roof a few pigeons, white and grey, sat in pairs or walked about with -spasmodic dignity. The whole made a picture, high in tone, like a -water-colour, and the clean etched lines of the stripped branches gave -it a sharp delicacy and threw up the tall, light walls. All these -things were lost upon the beggar. - -He had informed himself in Forfar. He knew that the place was owned -and lived in by a lady of the name of Flemington, who was the -grandmother of the young man from whom he had lately parted. He had -learned nothing of her character and politics because of the seclusion -in which she lived, and he stared about him on every side and scanned -the house for any small sign that might give him a clue to the tastes -or occupations of its inhabitant. Whilst he was so engaged the -front-door opened and the sound sent all the pigeons whirling from the -roof into the air in flashes of grey-blue and white. Madam Flemington -stood on the top step. - -The beggar's hand went instinctively to his bonnet. He was a little -taken aback--why, he did not know--and he instantly abandoned his plan -of an emotional description of Archie's plight. She stood quite still, -looking down at him. - -Her luxuriant silver hair was covered by a three-cornered piece of -black lace that was tied in a knot under her chin, and she wore the -'calash,' or hood, with which the ladies of those days protected their -headdresses when they went out. A short furred cloak was round her. - -She considered Wattie with astonishment. Then she beckoned to him to -approach. - -"Who and what are you?" she asked, laying her hand on the railing that -encircled the landing of the steps. - -That question was so seldom put to him that it struck him unawares, -like a stone from behind a hedge. He hesitated. - -"A've got news for yer leddyship," he began. - -"I asked your name," said Madam Flemington. - -"Wattie Caird," replied he. "Skirling Wattie, they ca' me." - -The countryside and its inhabitants did not appeal to Christian, but -this amazing intruder was like no one she had ever seen before. She -guessed that he was a beggar, and she brushed aside his announcement -of news as merely a method of attracting attention. - -"You are one of the few persons in these parts who can afford to keep -a coach," she remarked. - -A broad smile overspread his ribald countenance, like the sun -irradiating a public-house. - -"Dod, ma leddy, a'd think shame to visit ye on fut," said he, with a -wag of his head. - -"You have better reasons than that," she replied rather grimly. - -"Aye, aye, they're baith awa'," said he, looking at the place where -his legs should have been. "A'm an ill sicht for the soutars!" - -She threw back her head and laughed a little. - -She had seen no one for months, with the exception of Archie, who was -so quick in mind and speech, and the humour of this vagabond on wheels -took her fancy. There was no whining servility about him, in spite of -his obvious profession. - -The horrified face of a maidservant appeared for one moment at a -window, then vanished, struck back by the unblessed sight of her -mistress, that paralyzing, unapproachable power, jesting, apparently, -with Skirling Wattie, the lowest of the low. The girl was a native of -Forfar, the westernmost point of the beggar's travels, and she had -often seen him in the streets. - -"You face life boldly," said Madam Flemington. - -"An' what for no? Fegs, greetin' fills naebody's kyte."*[*Stomach.] - -She laughed again. - -"You shall fill yours handsomely," said she; "go to the other door and -I will send orders to the women to attend to you." - -"Aye, will I," he exclaimed, "but it wasna' just for a piece that a' -cam' a' the way frae the muir o' Rossie." - -"From where?" said she. - -"The muir o' Rossie," repeated he. "Ma leddy, it was awa' yonder at -the tail o' the muir that a' tell't Maister Flemington the road to -Aberbrothock." - -"Mr. Flemington?" - -"Aye, yon lad Flemington--an' a deevil o' a lad he is to tak' the road -wi'! Ma leddy, there's been a pucklie fechtin' aboot Montrose, an' the -Prince's men hae gotten a haud o' King George's ship that's in by -Ferryden. As a' gaed doon to the toon, a' kaipit* [*Met.] wi' -Flemington i' the road. He'd gotten a clour on 's heed. He was -fechtin' doon aboot Inchbrayock, he tell't me." - -"Fighting? With whom?" asked Madam Flemington, fixing her tiger's eyes -on him. - -The beggar had watched her face narrowly while he spoke for the -slightest flicker of expression that might indicate the way her -feelings were turning. - -"He was fechtin' wi' Captain Logie," he continued boldly, "a fell man -yon--ye'll ken him, yer leddyship?" - -"By name," said Christian. - -"A'm thinkin' it was frae him that he got the clour on 's heed. A' -gie'd him ma guid whisky bottle, an' a' got water to him frae a well. -A' ca'd him awa' frae the roadside--he didna ken wha would be aifter -him ye see--an' a' gar'd a clatterin' auld wife at the muir side gie's -a shelter yon nicht. A' didna' leave the callant, ma' leddy, till a' -got a shelt to him. He's to Edinburgh. A' tell't him wha 'd get him a -passage to Leith--a'm an Aberbrothock man, mysel', ye ken." - -"And did he send you to me?" - -"Aye, did he," said he, lying boldly. - -There was no sign of emotion, none even of surprise, on her face. Her -heart had beaten hard as the beggar talked, and the weight of wrath -and pain that she had carried since she had parted with Archie began -to lighten. He had listened to her--he had not gone against her. How -deep her words had fallen into his heart she could not tell, but deep -enough to bring him to grips with the man who had made the rift -between them. - -"Are you sure of what you say?" she asked quickly; "did you see them -fight?" - -"Na, na, but 'twas the lad himsel' that tell't me. He was on the -ship." - -"He was on the ship?" - -"Aye, was he. And he gae'd oot wi' the sodgers to deave they rebels -frae Inchbrayock. They got the ship, ma leddy, but they didna get him. -He escapit." - -"Did you say he was much hurt?" said Madam Flemington. - -"Hoots! ye needna' fash yersel', ma leddy! A' was feared for him i' -the nicht, but there wasna' muckle wrang wi' him when he gae'd awa', -or, dod, a' wouldna' hae left him!" - -He had no mind to spoil his presentment of himself as Good Samaritan. - -So far he had learnt nothing. He had spoken of the Prince's men as -rebels without a sign of displeasure showing on Madam Flemington's -face. Archie might be playing a double game and she might be doing the -same, but there was nothing to suggest it. She was magnificently -impersonal. She had not even shown the natural concern that he -expected with regard to her own flesh and blood. - -"Go now," said she, waving her hand towards the back part of the -house; "you shall feed well, you and your dogs; and when you have -finished you can come to these steps again, and I will give you some -money. You have done well by me." - -She re-entered the house and he drove away to the kitchen-door, -dismissed. - -If Wattie hoped to discover anything more there about the lady and her -household, he was disappointed. The servants raised their chins in -refined disapproval of the vagrant upon whom their mistress had seen -fit to waste words under the very front windows of Ardguys. They -resolved that he should find the back-door, socially, a different -place, and only the awe in which they stood of Christian compelled -them to obey her to the letter. A crust or two would have interpreted -her wishes, had they dared to please themselves. But Madam Flemington -knew every resource of her larder and kitchen, for French housekeeping -and the frugality of her exiled years had taught her thrift. She would -measure precisely what had been given to her egregious guest, down to -the bones laid, by her order, before his dogs. - -The beggar ate in silence, amid the brisk cracking made by five pairs -of busy jaws; the maids were in the stronghold of the kitchen, far -from the ungenteel sight of his coarse enjoyment. When he had -satisfied himself, he put the fragments into his leathern bag and went -round once more to the front of the house. - -A window was open on the ground-floor, and Madam Flemington's large -white hand came over the sill holding a couple of crown pieces. She -was sitting on the window-seat within. Her cloak and the calash had -disappeared, and Wattie could see the fine poise of her head. She -dropped the coin into the cart as he drove below. - -As he looked up he thought that if she had been imposing in her -outdoor garments she was a hundredfold more so without them. He was at -his ease with her, but he wondered at it, though he was accustomed to -being at his ease with everybody. A certain vanity rose in him, coarse -remnant of humanity as he was, before this magnificent woman, and when -he had received the silver, he turned about, facing her, and began to -sing. - -He was used to the plebeian admiration of his own public, but a touch -of it from her would have a different flavour. He was vain of his -singing, and that vanity was the one piece of romance belonging to -him; it hung over his muddy soul as a weaving of honeysuckle may hang -over a dank pond. Had he understood Madam Flemington perfectly, he -might have sung 'The Tod,' but as he only understood her -superficially, he sang 'Logie Kirk.' He did not know how nearly the -extremities of the social scale can draw together in the primitive -humours of humanity. It is the ends of a line that can best be bent to -meet, not one end and the middle. - -Yet, as 'Logie Kirk' rang out among the spectral ash-trees, she sat -still, astonished, her head erect, like some royal animal listening; -it moved her, though its sentiment had naught to do with her mood at -present, nor with her cast of mind at any time. But love and loss are -things that lay their shadows everywhere, and Madam Flemington had -lost much; moreover, she had been a woman framed for love, and she had -not wasted her gifts. - -As his voice ceased, she rose and threw the window up higher. - -"Go on," she said. - -He paused, taking breath, for a couple of minutes. He knew songs to -suit all political creeds, but this time he would try one of the -Jacobite lays that were floating round the country; if it should -provoke some illuminating comment from her, he would have learned -something more about her, and incidentally about Archie, though it -struck him that he was not so sure of the unanimity of interest -between the grandmother and grandson which he had taken for granted -before seeing Madam Flemington. - -His cunning eyes were rooted on her as he sang again. - - "My love stood at the loanin' side - And held me by the hand, - The bonniest lad that e'er did bide - In a' this waefu' land; - There's but ae bonnier to be seen - Frae Pentland to the sea, - And for his sake but yestereen - I sent my love frae me. - - "I gie'd my love the white, white rose - That's at my feyther's wa', - It is the bonniest flower that grows - Where ilka flower is braw; - There's but ae brawer that I ken - Frae Perth unto the main, - And that's the flower o' Scotland's men - That's fechtin' for his ain. - - "If I had kept whate'er was mine, - As I had gie'd my best, - My hairt were licht by day, and syne - The nicht wad bring me rest; - There is nae heavier hairt to find - Frae Forfar toon to Ayr, - As aye I sit me doon to mind - On him I see nae mair. - - "Lad, gin ye fa' by Chairlie's side, - To rid this land o' shame, - There will na be a prouder bride - Than her ye left at hame; - But I will see ye whaur ye sleep - Frae lowlands to the peat, - And ilka nicht at mirk I'll creep - To lay me at yer feet." - -"You sing well," said Christian when he had stopped; "now go." - -She inclined her head and turned from the window. As his broad back, -so grotesque in its strange nearness to the ground, passed out between -the gate-posts of Ardguys, she went over to the mantelpiece. - -Her face was set, and she stood with clasped hands gazing into the -fireplace. She was deeply moved, but not by the song, which only -stirred her to bitterness, but by the searching tones of the beggar's -voice, that had smitten a way through which her feelings surged to and -from her heart. The thought that Archie had not utterly broken away -from her unnerved her by the very relief it brought. She had not known -till now how much she had suffered from what had passed between them. -Her power was not all gone. She was not quite alone. She would have -scorned to admit that she could not stand in complete isolation, and -she admitted nothing, even to herself. She only stood still, her -nerves quivering, making no outward sign. - -Presently she rang a little hand-bell that was on the table. - -The genteel-minded maid appeared. - -"Mysie," said Madam Flemington, "in three days I shall go to -Edinburgh." - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -SOCIETY - -LORD BALNILLO looked out of his sedan chair as it emerged from the -darkness of a close on the northern slope of the Old Town of -Edinburgh. Far down in front of him, where the long alley stopped, a -light or two was seen reflected in the black water of the Nor' Loch -that lay between the ancient city and the ground on which the new one -was so soon to rise. The shuffling footfalls of his chairmen, echoing -off the sides of the covered entry, were drowned in the noise that was -going on a little way farther forward, where the close widened out -into a square courtyard. One side of this place was taken up by the -house of Lady Anne Maxwell, for which the judge was bound. - -It had been raining, and Edinburgh was most noisomely dirty under -foot, so Balnillo's regard for his silk-clad legs and the buckled -shoes on his slim feet, had made him decide to be carried to his -kinswoman's party. He wore his favourite mouse colour, but the -waistcoat under his velvet coat was of primrose satin, and the lace -under his chin had cost him more than he liked to remember. - -The courtyard sent up a glow of light into the atmosphere of the damp -evening, for the high houses towering round it rose black into the -sky, limiting the shine and concentrating it into one patch. From -above, it must have looked like a dimly illuminated well. It was full -of sedan chairs, footmen, lantern-carriers and caddies, and the -chattering, pushing, jesting, and oaths were keeping the inhabitants -of the neighbouring 'lands'--such of them as were awake, for Edinburgh -kept early hours in those days--from going to sleep. - -The sedan chairs were set down at the door, for they could seldom be -carried into the low and narrow entrances of even the best town -houses, and here, at Lady Anne's, the staircase wound up inside a -circular tower projecting from the wall. - -The caddies, or street-messengers of Edinburgh, that strange -brotherhood of useful, omniscient rascals, without whose services -nothing could prosper, ran in and out among the crowd in search of odd -jobs. Their eyes were everywhere, their ears heard everything, their -tongues carried news of every event. The caddies knew all that -happened in society, on the bench, in shops, in wynds, in churches, -and no traveller could be an hour in the town before they had made his -name and business common property. In an hour and a half his character -would have gone the same way. Their home by day was at the Market -Cross in the High Street, where they stood in gossiping groups until a -call let one of them loose upon somebody else's business. It was the -perpetual pursuit of other people's business that had made them what -they were. - -A knot of caddies pressed round the door of Lady Anne Maxwell's house -as Lord Balnillo, sitting erect in order not to crease his clothes and -looking rather like an image carried in a procession, was kept at a -standstill whilst another guest was set down. Through the open window -of his chair there pressed a couple of inquisitive faces. - -"Hey, lads!" cried a caddie, "it's Davie Balnillo back again!" - -"Losh, it's himsel'! Aweel, ma lord, we're fine an' pleased to see ye! -Grange is awa' in ben the hoose. I'se warrant he doesna' ken wha's -ahint him!" - -Balnillo nodded affably. The instant recognition pleased the old man, -for he had only reached Edinburgh in time to dress for his cousin's -party; also, Lord Grange was a friend of his, and he was glad to hear -that he was in front. As he looked complacently upon the crowd, his -chairmen suddenly stepped forward, almost throwing him out of his -seat. - -A cry rose round him. - -"Canny! Canny! ye Hieland deevils! Ye'll hae the pouthered wiggie o' -him swiggit aff his heed! Haud on, Davie; we'll no let ye cowp!" - -Balnillo was rather annoyed, for he had been knocked smartly against -the window-frame, and a little cloud of powder had been shaken on his -velvet sleeve; but he knew that the one thing a man might not lose -before the caddies was his temper, if he did not want his rage, his -gestures, and all the humiliating details of his discomfiture to be -the town talk next day. He looked as bland as he could while he -resettled himself. - -"It'll no be waur nor ridin' the circuit, ma lord?" inquired a voice. - -A laugh went round the group, and the chair moved on and was set down -at its destination. Though the caddies' knowledge of the judge went as -far down as his foibles, the one thing that they did not happen to -know was the motive that had brought him to Edinburgh. - -The doings in the harbour had disturbed Balnillo mightily; for, though -the success of Ferrier and James in taking the _Venture_ rejoiced him, -he was dismayed by what he had heard about Archie Flemington. His -brother had told him everything. When Captain Hall and his men had -been conveyed as prisoners to the town, and the ship had been taken -possession of by Prince Charles' agent in Montrose, Logie had gone -hastily to Balnillo to give the news to David, and to prepare for his -own departure to join the Stuart army. There was no longer any need -for secrecy on his part, and it had always been his intention to -declare himself openly as soon as he had done his work in Montrose. -The place was well protected, and, besides the town guns that he and -Ferrier had taken from Hall, there were the two armed vessels--both -now belonging to the Prince--lying in the harbour. - -The arrival of the frigate with her supplies had turned Montrose from -a rebelliously-inclined town into a declared Jacobite stronghold. The -streets and taverns were full of Lord John Drummond's troops, the -citizens had given vent to their feelings upon the town bells, -bonfires blazed in the streets, and Prince Charlie's name was on every -lip; girls wore white roses on their breasts, and dreamed at night of -the fascinating young spark who had come to set Scotland alight. The -intense Jacobitism of Angus seemed to have culminated in the quiet -seaport. - -In all this outburst of loyalty and excitement the cautious Balnillo -did not know what to do. The risk of announcing his leanings publicly -was a greater one than he cared to take, for his stake in the country -and the land was considerable, and he was neither sanguine enough to -feel certain of the ultimate triumph of the Stuarts like the Montrose -people, nor generous enough to disregard all results like James. As he -told himself, after much deliberation, he was "best away." - -He had heard from James of Archie's sudden appearance upon the island, -armed with a Government weapon and in company with the attacking force -from the ship, and had listened to James's grim denunciation of him as -a spy, his passionate regrets that he had not blown his brains out -there and then. James's bitterness had been so great that David told -himself he could scarcely recognize his quiet brother. - -There was abundant reason for it, but Logie had seemed to be beside -himself. He had scarcely eaten or slept during the short time that he -had been with him, and his face had kept the judge's tongue still. -After his account of what had happened, Balnillo had not returned to -the subject again. - -Step by step the judge had gone over all the circumstances of -Flemington's sudden emergence from the Den on that windy night, and -had seen how he had himself been cozened and flattered into the -business of the portrait which stood unfinished, in solitary and very -marked dignity, in the room with the north light. He was a man who -suspected some of his own weaknesses, though his knowledge did not -prevent him from giving way to them when he thought he could do so -safely, and he remembered the adroit bits of flattery that his guest -had strewn in his path, and how obligingly he had picked them up. He -was shrewd enough to see all that. He thought of the sudden departure -when Madam Flemington's mysterious illness had spirited Archie out of -the house at a moment's notice, and he saw how he had contrived to -imbue both himself and James with the idea that he shared their -political interests, without saying one definite word; he thought of -his sigh and the change in his voice as he spoke of his father's death -"in exile with his master." - -These things stood up in a row before Balnillo, and ranged themselves -into a sinister whole. The plain truth of it was that he had -entertained a devil unawares. - -There had been a great search for Flemington when the skirmish on -Inchbrayock was over. It was only ceasing when the French frigate swam -into the river-mouth like a huge water-bird, and James, plunged in the -struggle, was unable to spare a thought to the antagonist he had flung -from him at the first sound of the attack. - -But when the firing had stopped, and the appearance of the foreign -ship made the issue of the conflict certain, he returned to the spot -where he had left Archie, and found him gone. He examined the sand for -some trace of the vanished man's feet, but the tide was now high in -the river, and his footprints had been swallowed by the incoming rush. -The stepping-stones were completely covered, and he knew that -these--great fragments of rock as they were--would now be lying under -enough water to drown a man who should miss his footing while the tide -surged through this narrow stretch of the Esk's bed. He guessed that -the spy had escaped by them, though a short time later the attempt -would have been impossible. He made a hasty search of the island, and, -finding no sign of Flemington, he returned with his men and the -prisoners they had taken, leaving the dead to be carried over later to -the town for burial. The boats were on the Montrose side of -Inchbrayock, and, their progress being hampered by the wounded, some -time was lost before he could spare a handful of followers to begin -the search for Flemington. He picked up a few volunteers upon the -quays, and despatched them immediately to cross the strait and to -search the southern shores of both the river and the Basin; but they -had barely started when Flemington and the beggar were nearing the -little farm on Rossie moor. Archie had spent so little time on the -open road, thanks to his companion's advice, that none of those whom -the pursuers met and questioned had seen him. Before dusk came on, -their zeal had flagged; and though one, quicker-witted than his -comrades, had suggested the moor as a likely goal for their quarry, he -had been overborne by their determination that the fugitive, a man who -had been described to them as coming from the other side of the -county, would make in that direction. - -When James had gone to join the Stuart army on its march to England, -his brother, waiting until the Prince had left Holyrood, set forth for -Edinburgh. It would have been difficult for him to remain at home -within sound of the noisy rejoicings of Montrose without either -joining in the general exultation or holding himself conspicuously -aloof. Prudence and convenience pointed to the taking of a little -holiday, and his own inclination did not gainsay them. - -He had not been in Edinburgh since his retirement, and the notion of -going there, once formed, grew more and more to his taste. A hundred -things in his old haunts drew him: gossip, the liberal tables of his -former colleagues, the latest modes in coats and cravats, the musical -assemblies at which he had himself performed upon the flute, the -scandals and anecdotes of the Parliament House and the society of -elegant women. He loved all these, though his trees and parks had -taken their places of late. He loved James too, and the year they had -spent together had been agreeable to him; but politics and family -affection--the latter of the general rather than the individual -kind--strong as their bonds were, could not bring the brothers into -true touch with each other. James was preoccupied, silent, restless, -and David had sometimes felt him to be inhuman in his lack of interest -in small things, and in his carelessness of all but the great events -of life. And now, as Balnillo stepped forth at Lady Anne Maxwell's -door, he was hugging himself at the prospect of his return to the -trimmings and embroideries of existence. He walked up the circular -staircase, and emerged into the candle-light of the long, low room in -which his cousin's guests were assembled. - -Lady Anne was a youngish widow, with a good fortune and a devouring -passion for cards. She had all the means of indulging her taste, for -not only did she know every living being who went to the making of -Edinburgh society, but, unlike most of her neighbours, she owned the -whole of the house in which she lived, and, consequently, had space -wherein to entertain them. While nearly all the Edinburgh world dwelt -in its flat, and while many greater ladies than herself were contented -to receive their guests in their bedchambers, and to dance and drink -tea in rooms not much bigger than the boudoirs of their descendants, -Lady Anne could have received Prince Charles Edward himself in -suitable circumstances had she been so minded. But she was very far -from having any such aspiration, and had not set foot in Holyrood -while the Prince was there, for she was a staunch Whig. As she greeted -her cousin Balnillo, she was wondering how far certain rumours that -she had heard about him were true, and whether he also had been privy -to the taking of the sloop-of-war in Montrose harbour, for it was just -a week since the news of Logie's exploit had reached Edinburgh. One of -David's many reasons for coming to her party was his desire to make -his reappearance in the polite world in a markedly Whig house. - -He stood talking to Lord Grange in the oak-panelled room half full of -people; through an open door another smaller apartment could be seen -crowded with tables and card-players. Lady Anne, all of whose guests -were arrived, had vanished into it, and the two judges stood side by -side. Lord Grange, who valued his reputation for sanctity above -rubies, did not play cards--at least, not openly--and Balnillo, -discovering new faces, as those must who have been over a year absent -from any community, was glad to have him at his elbow to answer -questions. Silks rustled, fans clicked, and the medley of noises in -the court below came up, though the windows were shut. - -The candles, dim enough to our modern standards of lighting, shone -against the darkness of polished wood, and laughter and talk were -escaping, like running water out of a thicket, from a knot of people -gathered round a small, plump, aquiline-nosed woman. The group was at -the end of the room, and now and again an individual would detach -himself from it, to return, drawn by some jest that reached him ere he -had crossed the floor. - -"Mrs. Cockburn's wit has not rusted this twelvemonth," observed Lord -Grange. - -"I marvel she has any left after nine years of housekeeping with her -straitlaced father-in-law," replied Balnillo in a preoccupied voice. - -His eyes were elsewhere. - -"Ah!" said Grange, pulling a righteous face. - -The group round Mrs. Cockburn opened, and she caught sight of him for -the first time. She bowed and smiled civilly, showing her rather -prominent teeth, then, noticing Balnillo, she came over to the two -men. Her friends stepped apart to let her pass, watching her go with -that touch of proprietary pride which a small intimate society feels -in its more original members. It was evident that her least acts were -deemed worthy of observation. - -As she greeted David, he turned round with a low bow. - -"My lord, I thought you were buried!" she exclaimed. - -"Dead and buried," droned Grange, for the sake of saying something. - -"Not dead," exclaimed she, "else I had been in mourning!" - -Balnillo bowed again, bringing his attention back with a jerk from the -direction in which it had been fixed. - -"Come, my lord, what have you been doing all this long time?" - -"I have been endeavouring to improve my estate, ma'am." - -"And meanwhile you have left us to deteriorate. For shame, sir!" - -"Edinburgh morals are safe in Lord Grange's hands," rejoined Balnillo, -with a sudden flash of slyness. - -Mrs. Cockburn smiled behind her fan. There were odd stories afloat -about Grange. She looked appreciatively at Balnillo. He had not -changed, in spite of his country life; he was as dapper, as -ineffective, and as unexpected as ever. She preferred him infinitely -to Grange. - -"Fie, Davie!" broke in the latter, with a leer; "you are an ungallant -dog! Here is Mrs. Cockburn wasting her words on you, and you do -nothing but ogle the lady yonder by the window." - -Three pairs of eyes--the bright ones of Mrs. Cockburn, the rather -furtive ones of Balnillo, and the sanctimonious orbs of Lord -Grange--turned in one direction. - -"Mrs. Cockburn is all knowledge, as she is all goodness," observed the -last named, pompously. "Pray, ma'am, tell us who is that lady?" - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -BALNILLO FINDS PERFECTION - -A SCONCE of candles beside a window-recess shed a collective -illumination from the wall, and Christian Flemington stood full in -their light, contemplating the company with superb detachment, and -pervaded by that air, which never left her, of facing the world, -unaided and unabashed, with such advantages as God had given her. Her -neck, still white and firm, was bare, for she wore no jewels but the -ruby earrings which shot blood-red sparks around her when she moved. -Long necks were in fashion in those days, and hers was rather short, -but the carriage of her head added enough to its length to do more -than equalize the difference. Her hair was like massed silver, and her -flesh--of which a good deal could be seen--rose like ivory above the -wine-colour of her silk gown, which flowed in spreading folds from her -waist to the ground. A Spanish fan with carved tortoiseshell sticks, a -thing of mellow browns and golds, was half closed between her fingers. -When she opened it, it displayed the picture of a bull-fight. - -"That is Mrs. Flemington--Madam Flemington, as I am told many people -call her--I presume, because she came to Scotland from France. You -should know her, my lord," she added, addressing Balnillo; "you are -from Angus." - -But Balnillo was speechless. - -Grange, who was transferring a pinch of snuff from his box to his -nose, paused, his hand midway way between the two. - -"Is she the widow of Andrew Flemington, who was in France with King -James?" - -"The same," replied Mrs. Cockburn, tossing her head. - -She had small sympathy with the Stuarts. - -"I had not expected to see the lady here. Not that I know aught about -her views. We have a bare acquaintance, and she is like yourself, Lord -Balnillo--just arrived in Edinburgh when our young hero has left -Holyrood." - -"She has been a fine woman," said Lord Grange, his eye kindling. - -"You may use the present tense, my lord," said Mrs. Cockburn. - -"Aha!" sniggered Grange, who adhered to the time-honoured beliefs of -his sex, "you dare to show yourself generous!" - -"I dare to show myself what I am, and that is more than all the world -can do," said she, looking at him very hard. - -He shifted from foot to foot. At this moment the gallows, to which he -had condemned a few people in his time, struck him as a personal -inconvenience. - -"Ma'am," said he, swallowing his rage, "you must present Davie, or he -will lose what senses he has." - -"Come, then, my lord, I will befriend you," said she, glad of the -chance to be rid of Grange. - -Balnillo followed her, unable to escape had he wished to do so. - -Christian was a woman who stood very still. She turned her head -without turning her body as Mrs. Cockburn approached with her request, -and Balnillo saw her calm acquiescence. - -His breath had been almost taken away as he learned the identity of -the stranger. Here was the woman who knew everything about that -astounding young man, his late guest, whose alarming illness had -recalled him, who had lived at St. Germain with the exiled queen, yet -who was the grandmother of a most audacious Whig spy! There was no -trace of recent ill-health here. He had pictured some faint, feeble -shred of old womanhood, not the commanding creature whose grey eyes -were considering him as he advanced under cover of her leisurely -consent. She seemed to measure him carelessly as he stood before her. -He was torn asunder in mind, awestruck, dragged this way by his -surprised admiration, that way by his intense desire to wring from her -something about Flemington. Here was a chance, indeed! But Balnillo -felt his courage drown in the rising fear of being unable to profit by -that chance. Admiring bewilderment overcame every other feeling. He no -longer regretted the price he had paid for the lace on his cravat. - -His name had roused Madam Flemington, though she gave no sign of the -thrill that went through her as it fell from Mrs. Cockburn's lips. As -David stood before her in the correct yet sober foppery of his -primrose and mouse-colour, she regretted that she was quite ignorant -of the pretext on which Archie had left his picture unfinished, nor -upon what terms he had parted with the judge. She had no reason for -supposing Balnillo to be aware of the young man's real character. He -had been fighting with James Logie, according to Skirling Wattie, yet -there seemed to be no enmity in the business, for here was his -brother, Lord Balnillo, assiduous in getting himself presented to her. -Mrs. Cockburn had put her request with a smiling hint at the effect -she had produced on his lordship. Christian glanced at David's -meticulous person and smiled, arrogantly civil, secretly anxious, and -remained silent, ready to follow his lead with caution. - -The shrewd side of Balnillo was uppermost to-night, stimulated perhaps -by the sight of society and by the exhilarating sound of its voice. He -recovered his momentarily scattered wits and determined to approach -his new acquaintance with such direct and simple questions as might -seem to her to be the natural inquiries of a man interested in -Flemington, and innocent of any mystery concerning him. It was quite -possible--so he reasoned--that she was unaware of the details of what -had happened on Inchbrayock Island. Archie had fled, and the search -for him had produced no result; he was unlikely to have made for his -own home if he did not wish to be found, and he and Madam Flemington -might not have met since the affair of the _Venture_. It should be -his--Balnillo's--task to convince her of his ignorance. - -His intense curiosity about Archie was almost stronger than his wrath -against him. Unlike James, whose bitterness was too deep for words, -whose soul was driven before the fury of his own feelings like a -restless ghost, David still looked back with a certain pleasant -excitement to Flemington's meteoric flash through the even atmosphere -of his daily life. He would dearly have liked to bring him to justice, -but he was anxious to hear a little more of him first. - -He had a curious mixture of feelings about him. There was no vainer -man in Scotland than Balnillo, and if the mental half of his vanity -had suffered from the deception practised on it, the physical half was -yet preening itself in the sunny remembrance of the portrait at -home--the portrait of David Balnillo as he would fain have had the -world see him--the portrait, alas and alas! unfinished. He could not -feel quite as James felt, who had opened his purse, and, more--far -more than that--had laid open the most sacred page of his life before -Flemington. He had placed his personal safety in his hands, too, -though he counted that as a matter of less moment. - -"Madam," said Balnillo, "to see you is to rejoice that you have -recovered from your serious illness." - -"You are very obliging, my lord. I am quite well," replied Christian, -concealing a slight surprise at this remark. - -"I am most happy in being presented to you," he continued. "What news -have you of my charming friend Mr. Flemington, may I ask?" - -"When I heard your name, my lord, I determined to be acquainted with -you, if only to thank you for your kindness to my boy. He could not -say enough of yourself and your brother. I hope Captain Logie is well. -Is he with you this evening?" - -The mention of James acted on David as he had designed that the -mention of Archie should act on Madam Flemington. These two people who -were playing at innocence were using the names of their relations to -scare the enemy as savage tribes use the terrific faces painted on -their shields. Balnillo, in beginning the attack, had forgotten his -own weak point, and he remembered that he could give no satisfactory -account of his brother at the present moment. But his cunning was -always at hand. - -"I had half expected to see him here," said he, peering round the -room; "there was some talk of his coming. I arrived somewhat late, and -I have hardly spoken to anyone but my Lord Grange and Mrs. Cockburn. -The sight of yourself, ma'am, put other matters out of my head." - -"Ah, sir," exclaimed Christian, "I fear that your ardour was all on -behalf of Archie! But I am accustomed to that." - -She cast a look of indolent raillery at him, drawing back her head and -veiling her eyes, fiery and seductive still, with the momentary sweep -of their thick lashes. - -Balnillo threw out his chest like a pouter pigeon. He had not been so -happy for a long time. As he did so, she remembered Archie's account -of his silk legs, and his description of him as being "silly, -virtuous, and cunning all at once." Silly she could well believe him -to be; virtuous he might be; whether he was cunning or not, time would -show her. She did not mean to let him go until she had at least -attempted to hear more about James Logie. - -"Madam," said he, "since seeing you I have forgotten Mr. Flemington. -Can I say more?" - -So far she was completely puzzled as to how much he knew about Archie, -but it was beginning to enter her mind that her own illness, of which -she had just learned from him, had been the young man's pretext for -leaving his work when it was only begun. Why else had the judge -mentioned it? And who but Flemington could have put the idea into his -head? - -She determined to make a bold attack on possibilities. - -"Archie was distracted by my illness, poor boy, and I fear that your -lordship's portrait suffered. But you will understand his anxiety when -I tell you that I am the only living relation that he has, and that -his devotion to me----" - -"He needs no excuse!" cried David fervently. - -She laid her hand upon his arm. - -"I am still hardly myself," she said. "I cannot stand long. Fetch me a -chair, my lord." - -He skipped across the floor and laid hold upon one just in time, for a -gentleman was on the point of claiming it. He carried it back with the -air of a conqueror. - -"Apart--by the curtain, if you please," said Christian, waving her -hand. "We can speak more comfortably on the fringe of this rout of -chattering people." - -He set the chair down in a quiet place by the wall, and she settled -herself upon it, leaning back, her shoulder turned from the company. -Balnillo's delight deepened. - -"And the portrait, my lord. He did not tell me what arrangement had -been made for finishing it," said Christian, looking up at him as he -stood beside her. - -She seemed to be completely unconcerned, and she spoke with a -leisurely dignity and ease that turned his ideas upside down. He could -make nothing of it. She appeared to court the subject of Archie and -the picture. He could only guess her to be innocent, and his warm -admiration helped his belief. At no moment since he knew the truth -from his brother's lips had Archie's character seemed so black as it -did now. David's indignation waxed as he grew more certain that -Flemington had deceived the noble woman to whom he owed so much, even -as he had deceived him. He was becoming so sure of it that he had no -desire to enlighten her. He longed to ask plainly where Archie was, -but he hesitated. Even the all-wise Mrs. Cockburn was ignorant of this -lady's political sympathies, and knew her only as the widow of a loyal -exile. What might--what would be her feelings if she were to see her -grandson in his real character? - -Righteous anger smouldered under Balnillo's primrose waistcoat, and -his spasmodic shrewdness began to doze in the increasing warmth of his -chivalrous pity for this new and interesting victim of the engaging -rogue. - -"Mr. Flemington's concern was so great when he left my house that no -arrangement was made," said he. "I had not the heart to trouble him -with my unimportant affairs when so much was at stake." - -Of the two cautious people who were feeling their way in the dark, it -was the judge who was the more mystified, for he had laid hold of a -definite idea, and it was the wrong one. Christian was merely putting -a bold face on a hazardous matter, and hoping to hear something of -Logie. She had not sought the introduction. David would have been the -butt of her amused scorn had she been free enough from anxiety to be -entertained. But she could not imagine on what footing matters really -stood, and she was becoming inclined to suspect the beggar's statement -that Flemington had been fighting with James. Her longing to see -Archie was great. - -She loved him in her own way, though she had driven him from her in -her mortification and her furious pride. She had not believed that he -would really go there and then; that he, who had served her purposes -so gallantly all his life, would take her at her word. What was he -doing? Why had he gone to Edinburgh? Her own reason for coming had -been the hope of seeing him. She had been four days in the town now, -and she dared not make open inquiries for him, not knowing how far his -defection had gone. She had accused him of turning to the Stuarts, and -he had denied the accusation, not angrily, but with quiet firmness. -Two horrible possibilities had occurred to her: one, that he was with -the Prince, and might be already known to the Government as a rebel; -the other, that he had never reached Edinburgh--that his hurt had been -worse than the beggar supposed, and that he might be ill or dying, -perhaps dead. But it was only when she lay awake at night that she -imagined these things. In saner moments and by daylight she put them -from her. She was so well accustomed to being parted from him, and to -the knowledge that he was on risky business, that she would not allow -herself to be really disturbed. She assured herself that she must wait -and watch; and now she was glad to find herself acquainted with -Balnillo, who seemed to be the only clue in her hand. Mercifully, he -had all the appearance of being an old fool. - -"I see that you are too modest to tell me anything of the picture," -she began. "I hope it promised well. You should make a fine portrait, -and I believe that Archie could do you justice. He is at his best with -high types. Describe it to me." - -David espied a vacant chair, and, drawing it towards him, sat down to -the subject with the same gusto that most men bring to their dinners. -He cleared his throat. - -"I should have wished it to be full length," said he, "but Mr. -Flemington had no suitable canvas with him. I wore my robes, and he -was good enough to say that the crimson was appropriate and becoming -to me. Personally, I favour quiet colours, as you see, ma'am." - -"I see that you have excellent taste." - -He bowed, delighted. - -"I remarked you as you came in," continued she, "and I asked myself -why these gentlemen looked so garish. Observe that one beside the door -of the card-room, my lord. I am sure that he chose his finery with -some care, yet he reminds me of a clown at a merrymaking." - -"True, true--excellently true!" - -"In my youth it was the man of the world who set the fashions; now it -is the tailor and the young sir fresh from his studies. What should -these persons know of the subject?" - -Balnillo was in heaven; from force of habit he ran his hand down the -leg crossed upon his knee. The familiar inward curve of the slim silk -ankle between his fingers was like the touch of a tried and creditable -friend; it might almost be said that he turned to it for sympathy. He -would have liked to tell his ankle that to-night he had found a -perfection almost as great as its own. - -Lord Grange, who had taken leave of his hostess and was departing, -paused to look at him. - -"See," said he, taking an acquaintance by the elbow, "look yonder at -that doited Davie Balnillo." - -"He is telling her about his riding of the circuit," said the other, -grinning. - -"The circuit never made him smile like that," replied Grange -sardonically. - -An hour later Christian Flemington stood at the top of the circular -staircase. Below it, Balnillo was at the entrance-door, sending -everyone within reach of his voice in search of her sedan chair. When -it was discovered, he escorted her down and handed her into it, then, -according to the custom of the time, he prepared to attend its -progress to her lodgings in Hyndford's Close. The streets were even -dirtier and damper than before, but he was as anxious to walk from -Lady Anne's party as he had been determined to be carried to it. He -stepped along at the side of the chair, turning, when they passed a -light, to see the dignified silhouette of Madam Flemington's head as -it appeared in shadow against the farther window. - -Speech was impossible as they went, for avoidance of the kennel and -the worse obstacles that strewed the city at that hour, before the -scavengers had gone their rounds, kept David busy. The only profit -that a man got by seeing his admired one home in Edinburgh in 1745 was -the honour and glory of it. - -When she emerged from the chair in Hyndford's Close he insisted upon -mounting the staircase with her, though its narrowness compelled them -to go in single file; and when they stopped halfway up at the door in -the towering 'land,' he bade her good-night and descended again, -consoled for the parting by her permission that he should wait upon -her on the following day. - -Christian was admitted and sailed into her little room. A light was in -it and Archie was standing at the foot of the bed. - -Surprises had been rolling up round Madam Flemington all the evening; -surprise at meeting Balnillo, surprise at his attitude; and this -crowning surprise of all. She was bewildered, but the blessing of -unexpected relief fell on her. She went towards him, her hands -outstretched, and Flemington, who was looking at her with a -wistfulness she had never seen in him before, took them and held them -fast. - -"Oh, Archie!" she exclaimed. - -She could say no more. - -They sat down at the wide hearth together, the shadow of the great -carved bed sprawling over the crowded space between the walls and over -Christian's swelling silks. Then he told her the history of the time -since they parted in Ardguys garden; of his boarding of the _Venture_; -of the fight with the rebels at Inchbrayock; of his meeting with -Wattie; of how he had reached Aberbrothock half dead, and had lain -sick for two days in an obscure tavern by the shore; how he had -finally sailed for Leith and had reached Edinburgh. - -Christian heard him, her gaze fixed upon the fire. She had elicited -nothing about James Logie from Balnillo, and there was no word of him -in Archie's story. She longed to speak of him, but would not; she -longed to know if the beggar had told the truth in saying that the two -men had actually fought, but she asked nothing, for she knew that her -wisest part was to accept the essentials, considering them as the -whole. She would ask no questions. - -Archie had come back. She had forbidden Ardguys to him and he had -evaded her ban by coming here. Yet he came, having proved himself -loyal, and she would ignore the rest. - - - -BOOK III - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -THE WINTER - -APRIL is slow in Scotland, distrustful of her own identity, timid of -her own powers. Half dazed from the long winter sleep, she is often -bewildered, and cannot remember whether she belongs to winter or to -spring. - -After the struggles and perplexities of the months that had elapsed -since Balnillo and Christian Flemington met in Edinburgh, she had come -slowly to herself amid storms of sleet. Beyond the Grampians, in the -North, her awakened eyes looked on a country whose heart had been -broken at Culloden. The ragged company that gathered round its Prince -on that Wednesday morning was dispersed among the fastnesses of the -hills, or lying dead and dying among the rushes and heather, whilst -Cumberland's soldiers finished their bloody business; the April snow -that had blown in the faces of the clansmen as they hurled their -unavailing valour on the Whig army had melted upon mounds of slain, -and in the struggle of an hour the hopes of half a century had -perished. Superior numbers, superior artillery, and superior -generalship, had done their work; when the English dragoons had -recovered themselves after the Highland charge, they pursued almost to -the gates of Inverness, returning again to the battlefield before -night should darken upon the carnage, to despatch the wounded wretches -who still breathed among their dead comrades. - -The country smelt of blood; reeked of it. For miles and miles round -Inverness, where the search for fugitives was hottest, burnt hovels -and blackened walls made blots upon the tardy green of spring. Women -went about, white-faced and silent, trying to keep from their eyes the -self-betraying consciousness of hidden terrors; each striving to -forget the peat-stack on the moor where some hunted creature was -lying, the scrub in the hollow that sheltered some wounded body, the -cranny in the hill to which she must journey painfully after dark with -the crusts in her apron. - -The shot still rattled out over the countryside where the search was -going on, and where, when it had been successful, a few maimed and -haggard men stood along some shieling wall in front of a platoon of -Cumberland's musketry. All down the shores of Loch Ness and among the -hills above the Nairn water south-west of Culloden, the dark rocks -raised their broken heads to the sky over God knows what agonies of -suffering and hunger. The carrion-crow was busy in the land. One-fifth -of Prince Charles's army was dead upon the battle-field, and the -church and tolbooth of Inverness were full of wounded prisoners, to -whom none--not even the surgeons of their own party--were suffered to -attend. - -And so April passed, and May was near her passing. Cumberland lay at -Fort Augustus, to which place he had retired with Kingston's Horse and -eleven battalions of foot. The victorious army was the richer by much -spoil, and money was free; the Duke's camp was merry with festivities -and races, and in the midst of it he enjoyed a well-earned leisure, -enlivened by women and dice. He had performed his task of stamping out -the danger that threatened his family with admirable thoroughness, and -he had, besides, the comfortable prospect of a glorious return to -London, where he would be the hero of the general rejoicing that was -to follow. He was rooted at Fort Augustus, a rock of success and -convivial self-satisfaction in the flood of tears and anguish and -broken aspiration that had drowned half Scotland. - -The Prince had begun his wanderings in the West, hiding among the -hills and corries of the islands, followed by a few faithful souls, -and with a price of thirty thousand pounds on his head, whilst -Cumberland's emissaries, chief among whom was John Campbell of Mamore, -Commandant of the West Highland garrisons, searched the country in -every direction. The rank and file of his army--such of his men as -were not dead or in prison--were scattered to the four winds; and -those officers who had escaped after Culloden were in hiding, too, -some despairing, some holding yet to the forlorn hope of raising his -standard anew when the evil day should be over. Among these last was -James Logie. - -He had come unhurt through the battle. Complete indifference about -personal issues had wrapped him round in a protecting atmosphere, as -it seems to enwrap and protect the unconcerned among men. He had left -the field in company with the Prince and a few friends, with whom he -reached the Ford of Falie on the Nairn River. They had held a rapid -council at this place, Prince Charles desiring that the remnant of his -army should rendezvous at Ruthven, in Badenoch, whilst he made his way -to France; for his hopes were living still, and he still looked for -support and supplies from the French king. He had taken leave of his -companions at the ford, and had set off with half a dozen followers -for the coast. - -Logie turned his face towards Angus. He had been a conspicuous figure -in the Prince's immediate circle, and he knew that he had no time to -lose if he was to cross the Grampians alive. He thirsted to get back, -and to test the temper of the east coast after the news of the -reverse; like his master, he was not beaten yet. He did not know what -had become of Ferrier and the Angus men, for he had been on the -Prince's staff; but the friends had met on the night before the -battle, and it was a compact between them, that, should the day go -against them, and should either or both survive the fight, they were -to make for the neighbourhood of Forfar, where they would be ready, in -case of necessity, to begin on their task of raising new levies for -the cause. - -He had reached the Spey, and had gained Deeside in safety by the -shores of the Avon, crossing the Grampians near the sources of the -Isla. - -In the long winter that had passed since he joined the Prince in the -field, James had not forgotten Flemington. His own labours in Angus -and at the taking of the _Venture_, completely as they had filled his -mind in the autumn, had sunk back into the limbo of insignificant -things, but Archie was often in his thoughts, and some time before the -advance on Inverness he had heard with indescribable feelings that he -was intelligence officer to the Duke of Cumberland. The terrible thing -to Logie was that Archie's treachery seemed to have poisoned the -sacred places in his own past; when he turned back to it now, it was -as though the figure of the young man stood blocking his view, looking -at him with those eyes that were so like the eyes of Diane, and were -yet the eyes of a traitor. - -He could not bear to think of that October morning by the Basin of -Montrose. Perhaps the story that a fatal impulse had made him lay bare -to his companion had been tossed about--a subject of ridicule on -Flemington's lips, its telling but one more proof to him of the folly -of men. He could scarcely believe that Archie would treat the record -of his anguish in such a way; but then, neither could he have believed -that the sympathy in Archie's face, the break in his voice, the -tension of his listening attitude, were only the stock-in-trade of a -practised spy. And yet this horror had been true. In spite of the -unhealed wound that he carried, in spite of the batterings of his -thirty-eight years, Logie had continued to love life, but now he had -begun to tell himself that he was sick of it. - -And for another very practical reason his generous impulses and his -belief in Flemington had undone him. Perhaps if the young painter had -come to Balnillo announcing an ostentatious adherence to the Stuarts, -he might have hesitated before taking him at his own value; but his -apparent caution and his unwillingness to speak, and the words about -his father at St. Germain, which he had let fall with all the quiet -dignity of a man too upright to pass under false colours, had done -more to put the brothers on the wrong track than the most violent -protestations. Balnillo had been careful, in spite of his confidence -in his guest; but in the sympathy of his soul James had given -Flemington the means of future access to himself. Now the tavern in -the Castle Wynd at Stirling could be of use to him no longer, and he -knew that only the last extremity must find him in any of the secret -haunts known to him in the Muir of Pert. - -Madam Flemington had never reopened the subject of James Logie with -Archie. In her wisdom she had left well alone. Installed in her little -lodging in Hyndford's Close, with her woman Mysie, she had made up her -mind to remain where she was. There was much to keep her in Edinburgh, -and she could not bring herself to leave the centre of information and -to bury herself again in the old white house among the ash-trees, -whilst every post and every horseman brought word of some new turn in -the country's fortunes. - -News of the Highland army's retreat to Scotland, of the Battle of -Falkirk, of the despatch of the Duke of Cumberland to the North, -followed one another as the year went by, and still she stayed on. -With her emergence from the seclusion of the country came her -emergence from the seclusion she had made for herself; and on the -Duke's thirty hours' occupation of Holyrood, she threw off all -pretence of neutrality, and repaired with other Whig ladies to the -palace to pay her respects to the stout, ill-mannered young General -whose unbeguiling person followed so awkwardly upon the attractive -figure of his predecessor. - -Now that Archie was restored to her, Christian found herself with -plenty of occupation. The contempt she had hitherto professed for -Edinburgh society seemed to have melted away, and every card-party, -every assembly and rout, knew her chair at its door, her arresting -presence in its midst. Madam Flemington's name was on a good many -tongues that winter. Many feared her, some maligned her, but no one -overlooked her. The fact that she was the widow of an exiled Jacobite -lent her an additional interest; and as the polite world set itself to -invent a motley choice of reasons for her adherence to the House of -Hanover--which it discovered before her reception by the Duke at -Holyrood made it public--it ended by stumbling on the old story of a -bygone liaison with Prince Charles's father. The idea was so much to -its taste that it was generally accepted; and Christian, unknown to -herself, became the cast-off and alienated mistress of that Prince -whom her party had begun to call 'The Old Pretender.' It was scarcely -a legend that would have conciliated her had it come to her ears, but, -as rumour is seldom on speaking terms with its victims, she was -ignorant of the interested whispers which followed her through the -wynds and up the staircases of the Old Town. - -But the reflected halo of royalty, while it casts deep shadows, -reaches far. The character of royal light of love stood her in good -stead, even among those to whom her supposed former lover was an -abhorred spectre of Popery and political danger. The path that her own -personality would surely open for her in any community was illumined -and made smooth by the baleful interest that hangs about all kingly -irregularities, and there was that in her bearing which made people -think more of the royal and less of the irregular part of the -business. Also, among the Whigs, she was a brand plucked from the -burning, one who had turned from the wrong party to embrace the right. -Edinburgh, Whig at heart, in spite of its backslidings, admired Madam -Flemington. - -And not only Edinburgh, but that curious fraction of it, David -Balnillo. - -The impression that Christian had made upon the judge had deepened as -the weeks went by. By the time he discovered her true principles, and -realized that she was no dupe of Archie's, but his partisan, he had -advanced so far in his acquaintance with her, had become so much her -servant, that he could not bring himself to draw back. She had dazzled -his wits and played on his vanity, and that vanity was not only warmed -and cosseted by her manner to him, not only was he delighted with -herself and her notice, but he had begun to find in his position of -favoured cavalier to one of the most prominent figures in society a -distinction that it would go hard with him to miss. - -He had begun their conversation at Lady Anne Maxwell's party by the -mention of Archie Flemington, but his name had not come up between -them again, and when his enlightenment about her was complete, and the -talk which he heard in every house that he frequented revealed her in -her real colours, he had no further wish to discuss the man into whose -trap he had fallen. - -David Balnillo's discoveries were extremely unpalatable to him. If -Christian had cherished his vanity, she had made it smart, too. No -man, least of all one like the self-appreciative judge, can find -without resentment that he has been, even indirectly, the dupe of a -person to whom he has attached himself; but when that person is a -woman, determined not to let him escape from her influence, the case -is not always desperate. For three unblessed days it was wellnigh -desperate with Balnillo, and he avoided her completely, but at the end -of that time a summons from her was brought to him that his -inclination for her company and the chance sight of Lord Grange -holding open the door of her chair forbade him to disobey. She had -worded her command as though she were conferring a favour; -nevertheless, after an hour's hesitation, David had taken his hat and -repaired to Hyndford's Close, dragging his dignity after him like a -dog on a leash. - -If she guessed the reason of his absence from her side she made no -remark, receiving him as if she had just parted from him, with that -omission of greeting which implies so much. She had sent for him, she -said, because her man of business had given her a legal paper that she -would not sign without his advice. She looked him in the face as -fearlessly as ever, and her glance sparkled with its wonted fire. For -some tormented minutes he could not decide whether or no to charge her -with knowledge of the fraud that had been carried on under his roof, -but he had not the courage to do so. Also, he was acute enough to see -that she might well reply to his reproaches by reminding him that he -had only himself to thank for their acquaintance. She had not made the -advances; his own zeal had brought about their situation. He felt like -a fool, but he saw that in speaking he might look like one, which some -consider worse. - -He left her, assuring himself that all was fair in love and politics; -that he could not, in common good breeding, withhold his help from her -in her legal difficulty; that, should wind of Archie's dealings with -him get abroad in the town, he would be saving appearances in avoiding -a rupture with the lady whose shadow he had been since he arrived in -Edinburgh, and that it was his duty as a well-wisher of Prince Charles -to keep open any channel that might yield information about -Flemington's movements. Whatsoever may have been the quality of his -reasons, their quantity was remarkable. He did not like the little -voice that whispered to him that he would not have dared to offer them -to James. - -There was no further risk of a meeting with Archie, for within a few -days of the latter's appearance in Hyndford's Close he had been sent -to the Border with instructions to watch Jedburgh and the -neighbourhood of Liddesdale, through which the Prince's army had -passed on its march to England. Madam Flemington knew that the coast -was clear, and David had no suspicion that it had been otherwise. Very -few people in Edinburgh were aware of Flemington's visit to it; it was -an event of which even the caddies were ignorant. - -And so Balnillo lingered on, putting off his return to Angus from week -to week. His mouse-coloured velvet began to show signs of wear and was -replaced by a suit of dark purple; his funds were dwindling a little, -for he was not a rich man, and a new set of verses about him was going -the round of the town. Then, with January, came the battle of Falkirk -and the siege of Stirling Castle, and the end of the month brought -Cumberland and the mustering of loyal Whigs to wait upon him at -Holyrood Palace. - -David departed quietly. He had come to Edinburgh to avoid playing a -marked part in Angus, and he now returned to Angus to avoid playing a -marked part in Edinburgh. He was behaving like the last remaining king -in a game of draughts when he skips from square to square in the safe -corner of the board; but he did not know that Government had kept its -eye on all his doings during the time of his stay. Perhaps it was on -account of her usefulness in this and in other delicate matters that -Madam Flemington augured well for her grandson, for when the Whig army -crossed the Forth, Archie went with it as intelligence officer to the -Duke of Cumberland. - - - -CHAPTER XX - -THE PARTING OF THE WAYS - -JULY spread a mantle of heather over the Grampians. In Glen Esk, the -rough road into the Lowlands, little better than a sheep-track, ran -down the shore of Loch Lee, to come out at last into the large spaces -at the foot of the hills. The greyness of the summer haze lay over -everything, and the short grass and the roots of bog-myrtle and thyme -smelt warm and heady, for the wind was still. The sun seemed to have -sucked up some of the heather-colour out of the earth; the lower -atmosphere was suffused with a dusty lilac where, high overhead, it -softened the contours of the scattered rocks. Amongst carpets of rush -and deep moss, dappled with wet patches, the ruddy stems of the -bog-asphodel raised slim, golden heads that drooped a little, as -though for faintness, in the scented warmth. An occasional bumble-bee -passed down wind, purposeful and ostentatious, like a respectable -citizen zealous on the business of life. - -No one looking along the windings of the Glen, and drawing in the -ardent quietness of the summer warmth, would have supposed that fire -and sword had been through it so lately. Its vastness of outline hid -the ruined huts and black fragments of skeleton gable-ends that had -smoked up into the mountain stillness. Homeless women and children had -fled down its secret tracks; hunted men had given up their souls under -its heights. The rich plainland of Angus had sent its sons to fight -for the Prince in the North, and of those who survived to make their -way back to their homes, many had been overtaken by the pursuit that -had swept down behind them through the hills. No place had a darker -record than Glen Esk. - -Archie Flemington rode down the Glen with his companion some little -way in front of the corporal and the three men who followed them. His -left arm was in a sling, for he had received a sabre-cut at Culloden; -also, he had been rolled on by his horse, which was killed under him, -and had broken a rib. His wound, though not serious had taken a long -time to heal, for the steel had cut into the arm bone; he looked thin, -too, for the winter had been a time of strenuous work. - -One of the three private soldiers, the last of the small string of -horsemen, had a rope knotted into his reins, the other end of which -was secured round the middle of a short, thickset man who paced -sullenly along beside the horse. The prisoner's arms were bound at his -back, his reddish beard was unkempt, and his clothes ragged; he made a -sorry figure in the surrounding beauty. - -Nearly two months had gone by since the Battle of Culloden, and the -search for fugitives was still going on in remote places. Cumberland, -who was on the point of leaving Fort Augustus for Edinburgh on his way -to London, had given orders for a last scouring of Glen Esk. The party -had almost reached its mouth, and its efforts had resulted only in the -capture of this one rebel; but, as there was some slight doubt of his -identity, and as the officer who rode beside Archie was one whose -conscience ranked a great way above his convenience, the red-bearded -man had fared better than many of those taken by Cumberland's -man-hunters. If he were the person they supposed him to be, he was an -Angus farmer distantly related to David Ferrier, and he was now being -brought to his own country for identification. - -Captain Callandar, the officer in command, was a long, lean, bony man -with a dark face, a silent, hard-bitten fellow from Ligonier's -regiment. He and Archie had met very little before they started south -together, and they had scarcely progressed in acquaintance in the few -days during which they had ridden side by side. They had shared their -food on the bare turf by day, lain down within a few yards of each -other at night; they had gone through many of the same experiences in -the North, and they belonged to the same victorious army, yet they -knew little more of each other than when they started. But there was -no dislike between them, certainly none on Archie's side, and if the -other was a little critical of the foreign roll of his companion's -_r's_, he did not show it. - -Archie's tongue had been quiet enough. He was riding listlessly along, -and, though he looked from side to side, taking in the details of what -he saw from force of habit, they seemed to give him no interest. He -puzzled Callandar a good deal, for he had proved to be totally -different from anything that he had expected. The soldier was apt to -study his fellow-men, when not entirely swallowed up by his duty, and -he had been rather pleased when he found that Cumberland's brilliant -intelligence officer was to accompany him down Glen Esk. He had heard -much about him. Archie's quick answers and racy talk had amused the -Duke, who, uncompanionable himself, felt the awkward man's amazement -at the readiness of others, and scraps of Flemington's sayings had -gone from lip to lip, hall-marked by his approval. Callandar was -taciturn and grave, but he was not stupid, and he had begun to wonder -what was amiss with his companion. He decided that his own society -must be uncongenial to him, and, being a very modest man, he did not -marvel at it. - -But the sources of Archie's discomfort lay far, far deeper than any -passing irritation. It seemed to him now, as he reached the mouth of -the Glen, that there was nothing left in life to fear, because the -worst that could come upon him was looming ahead, waiting for him, -counting his horse's steps as he left the hills behind. - -An apprehension, a mere suggestion of what might be remotely possible, -a skeleton that had shown its face to him in sleepless or overwrought -moments since Cumberland's victory, had become real. To most people -who are haunted by a particular dread, Fate plays one of the tricks -she loves so much. She is an expert boxer, and whilst each man stands -up to her in his long, defensive fight, his eye upon hers, guarding -himself from the blow he expects to receive in the face, she hits him -in the wind and he finds himself knocked out. - -But she had dealt otherwise with Archie; for a week ago he had been -specially detailed to proceed to Angus to hunt for that important -rebel, Captain James Logie, who was believed to have made his way -southward to his native parts. - -At Fort Augustus it was felt that Flemington was exactly the right man -to be entrusted with the business. He was familiar with the country he -had to search, he was a man of infinite resource and infinite -intelligence; and Cumberland meant to be pleasant in his harsh, -ungraceful manner, when he gave him his commission in person, with a -hint that he expected more from Mr. Flemington than he did from -anybody else. He was to accompany Captain Callandar and his three men. -The officer, having made a last sweep of Glen Esk, was to go on by -Brechin to Forfar, where he would be joined by another and larger -party of troops that was on its way down Glen Clova from Braemar, for -Cumberland was drafting small forces into Angus by way of the -Grampians, and the country was filling with them. - -He had dealt drastically with Montrose. The rebellion in the town had -been suppressed, and the neighbourhood put under military law. This -bit of the east coast had played a part that was not forgotten by the -little German general, and he was determined that the hornet's nest he -had smoked out should not re-collect. Whilst James Logie was at large -there could be no security. - -Of all the rebels in Scotland, Logie was the man whom Cumberland was -most desirous to get. The great nobles who had taken part in the -rising were large quarry indeed, but this commoner who had worked so -quietly in the eastern end of Angus, who had been on the Prince's -staff, who had the experience of many campaigns at his back, whose -ally was the notorious Ferrier, who had seized the harbour of Montrose -under the very guns of a Government sloop of war, was as dangerous as -any Highland chieftain, and the news that he had been allowed to get -back to his own haunts made the Whig generals curse. Though he might -be quiet for the moment, he would be ready to stir up the same -mischief on the first recrudescence of Stuart energy. It was not known -what had happened to Ferrier, for although he was a marked man and -would be a rich haul for anybody who could deliver him up to -Cumberland, he was considered a less important influence than James; -and Government had scarcely estimated his valuable services to the -Jacobites, which were every whit as great as those of his friend. - -Lord Balnillo was a puzzle to the intelligence department. His name -had gone in to headquarters as that of a strongly suspected rebel; he -was James's brother; yet, while Archie had included him in the report -he had entrusted to the beggar, he had been able to say little that -was definite about him. The very definite information he had given -about James and Ferrier, the details of his pursuit of the two men and -his warning of the attack on the _Venture_, had mattered more to the -authorities than the politics of the peaceable old judge, and -Balnillo's subsequent conduct had been so little in accordance with -that of his brother that he was felt to be a source of small danger. -He had been no great power on the bench, where his character was so -easy that prisoners were known to think themselves lucky in appearing -before him. No one could quite account for his success in the law, and -the mention of his name in the legal circles of Edinburgh raised -nothing worse than a smile. He had taken no part in the rejoicing that -followed James's feat at Montrose, but had taken the opportunity of -leaving the neighbourhood, and during his long stay in Edinburgh he -had frequented Whig houses and had been the satellite of a conspicuous -Whig lady, one who had been received by Cumberland with some -distinction, the grandmother of the man who had denounced Logie. The -authorities decided to leave him alone. - -When the hills were behind the riders and the levels of the country -had sunk and widened out on either hand, they crossed the North Esk, -which made a shallow curve by the village of Edzell. The bank rose on -its western side, and the shade of the trees was delightful to the -travellers, and particularly to the prisoner they carried with them. -As the horses snuffed at the water they could hardly be urged through -it, and Callandar and Archie dismounted on the farther shore and sat -on a boulder whilst they drank. They watched them as they drew the -draught up their long throats and raised their heads when satisfied, -to stare, with dripping muzzles, at distant nothings, after the -fashion of their kind. The prisoner's aching arms were unbound that he -might drink too. - -"Egad, I have pitied that poor devil these last miles," said Archie, -as the man knelt at the brink and extended his stiffened arms into a -pool. - -The other nodded. Theoretically he pitied him, but a rebel was a -rebel. - -"You have no bowels of compassion. They are not in your instructions, -Callandar. They should be served out, like ammunition." - -Callandar turned his grave eyes on him. - -"The idea displeases you?" said Archie. - -"It would complicate our duty." - -He spoke like a humourless man, but one side of his mouth twitched -downwards a little, and Flemington, who had the eye of a lynx for -another man's face, decided that the mere accident of habit had -prevented it from twitching up. He struck him as the most repressed -person he had ever seen. - -"There would not be enough at headquarters to go round," observed -Archie. - -Callandar's mouth straightened, and, like the horses, he looked at -nothing. Criticism was another thing not in his instructions. - -"They have drunk well," he said at last. "An hour will bring us to the -foot of Huntly Hill. We can halt and feed them at the top before we -turn off towards Brechin. You know this country better than I do." - -"Wait a little," said Archie. "I am no rebel, and you may have mercy -on me with a clear conscience." - -He had slipped his arm out of the sling and was resting it on his -knee. - -"You are in pain?" exclaimed Callandar, astonished. - -Archie laughed. - -"Why, man, do you think I ride for pleasure with the top half of a -bone working east and the bottom half working west?" - -"I thought----" began Callandar. - -"You thought me churlish company, and maybe I have been so. But this -ride has been no holiday for me." - -"I did not mean that. I would have said that I thought your wound was -mended." - -"My flesh-wound is mended and so is my rib," said Flemington, "but -there are two handsome splinters hobnobbing above my elbow, and I can -tell you that they dance to the tune of my horse's jog." - -Callandar's opinion of him rose. He had found him disappointing as a -companion, but Archie had hid his pain, and he understood people who -did that. - -The Edzell villagers turned out to stare at them as they passed a -short time later, when they took the road again. After the riders left -its row of houses their way ran from the river-level through fields -that had begun to oust the moor, rising to the crest of Huntly Hill, -on the farther side of which the southern part of Angus spread its -partial cultivation down to the Basin of Montrose. Archie's discomfort -seemed to grow; he shifted his sling again and again, and Callandar -could see his mouth set in a hard line. Now and then an impatient -sound of pain broke from him. They rode on, silent, the long rise of -the hill barring their road like a wall, and the stems of the -fir-strip that crowned it beginning to turn to a dusky black against -the sky, which was cooling off for evening. Flemington's horse was a -slow walker, and he had begun to jog persistently. His rider, holding -him back, had fallen behind. Callandar rode on, preoccupied, and when, -roused from his thoughts, he turned his head, Archie waved him on, -shouting that he would follow more slowly, for the troopers moved at a -foot's pace because of their prisoner, and he stayed abreast of them. - -As Callandar passed a green sea of invading bracken that had struggled -on to the road his jaw dropped and he pulled up. Behind the feathering -waves an individual was sitting in a wooden box on wheels, and four -dogs, harnessed to the rude vehicle, were lying on the ground in their -leathern traces. He noticed with astonishment that the man had lost -the lower parts of his legs. - -"You'll be Captain Callandar," said Wattie, his twinkling eyes on the -other's uniform; "you're terrible late." - -"What do you want?" said the officer, amazed. - -The beggar peered through the fern and saw the knot of riders and -their prisoner coming along the road some little way behind. - -"Whaur's yon lad Flemington?" he demanded. - -"What do you want?" exclaimed Callandar again. "If you are a beggar -you have chosen a strange place to beg in." - -For answer Wattie pulled up his sliding panel and took out two sealed -letters, holding them low in the shelter of the fern, as if the -midges, dancing their evening dance above the bracken-tops, should not -look upon them. Callandar saw that one of the letters bore his own -name. - -"Whisht," said the beggar, thrusting them back quickly, "come doon -here an' hae a crack wi' me." - -As Callandar had been concerned exclusively with troops and fighting, -he knew little about the channels of information working in the -country, and it took him a moment to explain the situation to himself. -He dismounted under the fixed glare of the yellow dog. He was a man to -whom small obstacles were invisible when he had a purpose, and he -almost trod on the animal, without noticing the suppressed hostility -gathering about his heels. But, so long as his master's voice was -friendly, the cur was still, for his unwavering mind answered to its -every tone. Probably no spot in all Angus contained two such steadfast -living creatures as did this green place by the bracken when Callandar -and the yellow dog stood side by side. - -The soldier tethered his horse and sat down on the moss. Wattie laid -the letters before him; the second was addressed to Archie. Callandar -broke the seal of the first and read it slowly through; then he sat -silent, examining the signature, which was the same that Flemington -had showed to the beggar on the day when he met him for the first -time, months ago, by the mill of Balnillo. - -He was directed to advance no farther towards Brechin, but to keep -himself out of sight among the woods round Huntly Hill, and to watch -the Muir of Pert, for it was known that the rebel, James Logie, was -concealed somewhere between Brechin and the river. He was not upon the -Balnillo estate, which, with Balnillo House, had been searched from -end to end, but he was believed to be in the neighbourhood of the -Muir. - -"You know the contents of this?" asked Callandar, as he put away the -paper inside the breast of his coat. - -"Dod, a ken it'll be aboot Logie. He's a fell man, yon. Have ye na got -Flemington wi' ye?" - -Callandar looked upon his companion with disapproval. He had never -seen him, never heard of him before, and he felt his manner and his -way of speaking of his superiors to be an outrage upon discipline and -order, which were two things very near his heart. - -He did not reply. - -"Whaur's Flemington?" demanded the beggar again. - -"You make very free with Mr. Flemington's name." - -"Tuts!" exclaimed Wattie, ignoring the rebuke, "a've got ma orders the -same as yersel', an' a'm to gie yon thing to him an' to nae ither -body. Foo will a dae that if a dinna ken whaur he is?" - -His argument was indisputable. - -"Mr. Flemington will be with me in a moment," said Callandar stiffly. -"He is following." - -The sound of horses' feet was nearing them upon the road, and -Callandar rose and beckoned to Archie to come on. - -"Go to the top of the hill and halt until I join you," he told the -corporal as the men passed. - -As Archie dismounted and saw who was behind the bracken, he recoiled. -It was to him as if all that he most loathed in the past came to meet -him in the beggar's face. Here, at the confines of the Lowland -country, the same hateful influences were waiting to engulf him. His -soul was weary within him. - -He barely replied to Wattie's familiar greeting. - -"Do you know this person?" inquired Callandar. - -He assented. - -"Ay, does he. Him and me's weel acquaint," said Wattie, closing an -eye. "Hae, tak' yon." - -He held out the letter to Flemington. - -The young man opened it slowly, turning his back to the cart, and his -brows drew together as he read. - -His destiny did not mean him to escape. Logie had been marked down, -and the circle of his enemies was narrowing round him. Flemington was -to go no farther, and he was to remain with Callandar to await another -message that would be brought to their bivouac on Huntly Hill, before -approaching nearer to Brechin. - -He stood aside, the paper in his hand. Here was the turning-point; he -was face to face with it at last. He could not take part in Logie's -capture; on that he was completely, unalterably determined. What would -be the end of it all for himself he could not think. Nothing was -clear, nothing plain, but the settled strength of his determination. -He looked into the mellowing light round him, and saw everything as -though it were unreal; the only reality was that he had chosen his -way. Heaven was pitiless, but it should not shake him. Far above him a -solitary bird was winging its way into the spaces beyond the hills; -the measured beat of its wings growing invisible as it grew smaller -and smaller and was finally lost to sight. He watched it, fascinated, -with the strange detachment of those whose senses and consciousness -are numbed by some crisis. What was it carrying away, that tiny thing -that was being swallowed by the vastness? His mind could only grasp -the idea of distance . . . of space. . . . - -Callandar was at his elbow, and his voice broke on him as the voice of -someone awakening him from sleep. - -"These are my orders," he was saying, as he held out his own letter; -"you know them, for I am informed here that they are the duplicate of -yours." - -There was no escape. Callandar knew the exact contents of both papers. -Archie might have kept his own orders to himself, and have given him -to suppose that he was summoned to Forfar or Perth, and must leave -him; but that was impossible. He must either join in hunting Logie, or -leave the party on this side of Huntly Hill. - -"We had better get on," said Callandar. - -They mounted, and as they did so, Wattie also got under way. His team -was now reduced to four, for the terrier which had formerly run alone -in the lead had died about the new year. - -He took up his switch, and the yellow cur and his companions whirled -him with a mighty tug on to the road. He had been waiting for some -time in the bracken for the expected horseman, and as the dogs had -enjoyed a long rest, they followed the horses at a steady trot. -Callandar and Flemington trotted too, and the cart soon fell behind. -Beyond the crest of Huntly Hill the Muir of Pert sloped eastwards -towards the coast, its edges resting upon the Esk, but before the road -began to ascend it forked in two, one part running upwards, and the -other breaking away west towards Brechin. - -"Callandar, I am going to leave you," said Archie, pulling up his -horse. - -"To leave?" exclaimed the other blankly. "In God's name, where are you -going?" - -"Here is the shortest way to Brechin, and I shall take it. I must find -a surgeon to attend to this arm. There is no use for me to go on with -you when I can hardly sit in my saddle for pain." - -"But your orders?" gasped Callandar. - -"I will make that right. You must go on alone. Probably I shall join -you in a few days, but that will depend on what instructions I get -later. If you hear nothing from me you will understand that I am busy -out of sight. My hands may be full--that is, if the surgeon leaves me -with both of them. Good-bye, Callandar." - -He turned his horse and left him. The other opened his mouth to shout -after him, ordering him to come back, but remembered that he had no -authority to do so. Flemington was independent of him; he belonged to -a different branch of the King's service, and although he had fought -at Culloden he was under different orders. He had merely accompanied -his party, and Callandar knew very well that, though his junior in -years, he was a much more important person than himself. The nature of -Archie's duties demanded that he should be given a free hand in his -movements, and no doubt he knew what he was about. But had he been -Callandar's subordinate, and had there been a surgeon round the -nearest corner, his arm might have dropped from his shoulder before -the officer would have permitted him to fall out of the little troop. -Callandar had never in all his service seen a man receive definite -orders only to disobey them openly. - -He watched him go, petrified. His brain was a good one, but it worked -slowly, and Archie's decision and departure had been as sudden as a -thunderbolt. Also, there was contempt in his heart for his softness, -and he was sorry. - -Archie turned round and saw him still looking after him. He sent back -a gibe to him. - -"If you don't go on I will report you for neglect of duty!" he -shouted, laughing. - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -HUNTLY HILL - -CALLANDAR rode up Huntly Hill. The rose-red of the blossoming briar -that decks all Angus with its rubies glowed in the failing sunlight, -and the scent of its leaf came in puffs from the wayside ditches; the -blurred heads of the meadow-sweet were being turned into clouds of -gold as the sun grew lower and the road climbed higher. In front the -trees began to mantle Huntly Hill. - -He had just begun the ascent at a foot's pace when he heard the whirr -of the beggar's chariot-wheels behind him, then at his side, and he -turned in his saddle and looked down on his pursuer's bald crown. -Wattie had cast off his bonnet, and the light breeze springing up -lifted the fringe of his grizzled hair. - -"Whaur awa's Flemington?" he cried, as he came up. - -The other answered by another question; his thoughts had come back to -the red-haired prisoner at the top of the hill, and it struck him that -the man in the cart might recognize him. - -"What's your name?" he asked abruptly. - -"Wattie Caird." - -"You belong to these parts?" - -He nodded. - -"Then come on; I have not done with you yet." - -"A'm asking ye whaur's Flemington?" - -If Callandar had pleased himself he would have driven Wattie down the -hill at the point of the sword, his persistence and his pestilent, -unashamed curiosity were so distasteful to him. But he had a second -use for him now. He was that uncommon thing, a disciplinarian with -tact, and by virtue of the combination in himself he understood that -the troopers in front of him, who had been looking forward eagerly to -getting their heads once more under a roof that night, would be -disgusted by the orders he was bringing. He had noticed the chanter -sticking out from under Wattie's leathern bag, and he thought that a -stirring tune or two might ease matters for them. He did not see his -way to dispensing with him at present, so he tolerated his company. - -"Mr. Flemington has a bad wound," he answered. "He has gone to Brechin -to have it attended to." - -"Whaur did he get it?" - -"At Culloden Moor." - -"They didna tell me onything aboot that." - -"Who tells you anything about Mr. Flemington? What do you know about -him?" - -"Heuch!" exclaimed Wattie, with contempt, "it's mysel' that should -tell them! A ken mair aboot Flemington than ony ither body--a ken fine -what's brocht yon lad here. He's seeking Logie, like a'body else, but -he kens fine he'll na get him--ay, does he!" - -Callandar looked down from his tall horse upon the grotesque figure so -close to the ground. He was furious at the creature's assumption of -knowledge. - -"You are a piper?" said he. - -"The best in Scotland." - -"Then keep your breath for piping and let other people's business be," -he said sternly. - -"Man, dinna fash. It's King Geordie's business and syne it's mine. Him -and me's billies. Ay, he's awa', is he, Flemington?" - -Callandar quickened his horse's pace; he was not going to endure this -offensive talk. But Wattie urged on his dogs too, and followed hard on -his heels. - -All through the winter, whilst the fortunes of Scotland were deciding -themselves in the North, he had been idle but for his piping and -singing, and he had had little to do with the higher matters on which -he had been engaged in the autumn, whilst the forces of the coming -storm were seething south of the Grampians. He had not set eyes on -Flemington since their parting by the farm on Rossie Moor, but many a -night, lying among his dogs, he had thought of Archie's voice calling -to Logie as he tossed and babbled in his broken dreams. - -He had long since drawn his conclusion and made up his mind that he -admired Archie as a mighty clever fellow, but he was convinced that he -was more astute than anybody supposed, and it gave him great delight -to think that, probably, no one but himself had a notion of the part -Flemington was playing. Wattie was well aware of his advancement, for -his name was in everybody's mouth. He knew that he was on Cumberland's -staff, just as Logie was on the staff of the Prince, and he wagged his -head as he thought how Archie must have enriched himself at the -expense of both Whig and Jacobite. It was his opinion that, knowledge -being marketable, it was time that somebody else should enrich himself -too. He would have given a great deal to know whether Flemington, as a -well-known man, had continued his traffic with the other side, and as -he went up the hill beside the dark Whig officer he was turning the -question over in his mind. - -He had kept his suspicions jealously to himself. Whilst Flemington was -far away in the North, and all men's eyes were looking across the -Grampians, he knew that he could command no attention, and he had -cursed because he believed his chance of profit to be lost. Archie had -gone out of range, and he could not reach him; yet he kept his -knowledge close, like a prudent man, in case the time should come when -he might use it. And now Flemington had returned, and he had been sent -out to meet him. - -The way had grown steep, and as Callandar's horse began to stumble, -the soldier swung himself off the tired beast and walked beside him, -his hand on the mane. - -Wattie was considering whether he should speak. If his information -were believed, it would be especially valuable at this time, when the -authorities were agog to catch Logie, and the reward for his services -must be considerable if there was any justice in the world. They would -never catch Logie, because Flemington was in league with him. Wattie -knew what many knew--that the rebel was believed to be somewhere about -the great Muir of Pert, now just in front of them, but so far as he -could make out, the only person who was aware of how the wind set with -Archie was himself. - -What he had seen at the foot of Huntly Hill had astonished him till he -had read its meaning by the light of his own suspicions. Though he had -not been close enough to the two men to hear exactly what passed -between them when they parted, he had seen them part. He had seen -Callandar standing to look after the other as though uncertain how to -act, and he had heard Archie's derisive shout. There was no sign of a -quarrel between them, yet Callandar's face suggested they had -disagreed; there was perplexity in it and underlying disapproval. He -had seen his gesture of astonishment, and the way in which he had sat -looking after Flemington at the cross roads, reining back his horse, -which would have followed its companion, was eloquent to the beggar. -Callandar had not expected the young man to go. - -Wattie did not know the nature of the orders he had brought, but he -knew that they referred to Logie. He understood that those who -received them were hastening to meet those who had despatched them, -and would be with them that night; and this proved to him how -important it was that the letters should be in the hand of the riders -before they advanced farther on their way. He had been directed to -wait on the northern side of Huntly Hill, and had been specially -charged to deliver them before Callandar crossed it. He told himself -that only a fool would fail to guess that they referred to this -particular place. But the illuminating part to Wattie was the speech -he had heard by the bracken: it was all that was needed to explain the -officer's stormy looks. - -"These are my orders," Callandar had said, "but you know them, for I -am informed that they are the duplicate of yours." - -Archie had disobeyed them, and Wattie was sure that he had gone, -because the risk of meeting Logie was too great to be run. Now was the -time for him to speak. - -He had no nicety, but he had shrewdness in plenty. He was sudden and -persistent in his address, and divining the obstacles in Callandar's -mind, he charged them like a bull. - -"Flemington 'll na let ye get Logie," said he. - -He made his announcement with so much emphasis that the man walking -beside him was impressed in spite of his prejudices. He was annoyed -too. He turned on him angrily. - -"Once and for all, what do you mean by this infernal talk about Mr. -Flemington?" he cried, stopping short. "You will either speak out, or -I will take it upon myself to make you. I have three men in the wood -up yonder who will be very willing to help me. I believe you to be a -meddlesome liar, and if I find that I am right you shall smart for -it." - -But the beggar needed no urging, and he was not in the least afraid of -Callandar. - -"It's no me that's sweer to speak, it's yersel' that's sweer to -listen," said he, with some truth. "Dod, a've tell't ye afore an' a'm -telling ye again--_Flemington 'll no let ye get him!_ He's dancin' wi' -George, but he's takin' the tune frae Chairlie. Heuch! dinna tell me! -There's mony hae done the same afore an' 'll dae it yet!" - -The officer was standing in the middle of the road, a picture of -perplexity. - -"It's no the oxter of him that gars him gang," said Wattie, breaking -into the broad smile of one who is successfully letting the light of -reason into another's mind. "It's no his airm. Maybe it gies him a -pucklie twist, whiles, and maybe it doesna, but it's no that that gars -the like o' him greet. _He wouldna come up Huntly Hill wi' you, for he -ken't he was ower near Logie._ It's that, an' nae mair!" - -Callandar began to think back. He had not heard one complaint from -Archie since the day they rode out of Fort Augustus together, and he -remembered his own astonishment at hearing he was in pain from his -wound. It seemed only to have become painful in the last couple of -hours. - -"It is easy to make accusations," he said grimly, "but you will have -to prove them. What proof have you?" - -"Is it pruifs ye're needin'? Fegs, a dinna gang aboot wi' them in ma -poke! A can tell ye ma pruifs fine, but maybe ye'll no listen." - -He made as though to drive on. - -Callandar stepped in front of the dogs, and stood in his path. - -"You will speak out before I take another step," said he. "I will have -no shuffling. Come, out with what you know! I will stay here till I -get it." - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -HUNTLY HILL (_continued_) - -CALLANDAR sat a little apart from his men on the fringe of the -fir-wood; on the other side of the clearing on which the party had -bivouacked Wattie formed the centre of a group. It was past sunset, -and the troop-horses, having been watered and fed, were picketed -together. Callandar's own horse snatched at the straggling -bramble-shoots behind a tree. - -The officer sat on a log, his chin in his hand, pondering on the -amazing story that the beggar had divulged. It was impossible to know -what to make of it, but, in spite of himself, he was inclined to -believe it. He had questioned and cross-questioned him, but he had -been able to form no definite opinion. Wattie had described his -meeting with Archie on the day of the taking of the ship; he had told -him how he had accompanied him on his way, how he had been forced to -ask shelter for him at the farm, how he had lain and listened in the -darkness to his feverish wanderings and his appeals to Logie. If the -beggar's tale had been true, there seemed to be no doubt that the -intelligence officer whose services were so much valued by Cumberland, -had taken money from the rebels, though it seemed that he had -hesitated over the business. His conscience must have smitten him even -in his dreams. "I will say nothing, but I will tell you all!" he had -cried to Logie. "I shall know where you are, but they shall never -know!" In his delirium, he had taken the beggar for the man whose -fellow-conspirator he was proving himself to be, and when -consciousness was fighting to return, and he had sense enough to know -that he was not speaking to Logie, it was his companion's promise to -deliver a message of reassurance that had given him peace and sleep. -"Tell him that he can trust me," he had said. What puzzled Callandar -was the same thing that had puzzled Wattie: Why had these two men, -linked together by a hidden understanding, fought? Perhaps Flemington -had repented of the part he was playing, and had tried to cut himself -adrift. "Let me go!" he had exclaimed. It was all past Callandar's -comprehension. At one moment he was inclined to look on Wattie as an -understudy for the father of lies; at another, he asked himself how he -could have had courage to invent such a calumny--how he had dared to -choose a man for his victim who had reached the position that Archie -had gained. But he realized that, had Wattie been inventing, he would -hardly have invented the idea of a fight between Flemington and -Captain Logie. That little incongruous touch seemed to Callandar's -reasonable mind to support the truth of his companion's tongue. - -And then there was Flemington's sudden departure. It did not look so -strange since he had heard what the beggar had to say. He began to -think of his own surprise at finding Archie in pain from a wound which -seemed to have troubled him little, so far, and to suspect that his -reliable wits had been stimulated to find a new use for his injured -arm by the sight of Huntly Hill combined with the news in his pocket. -His gorge rose at the thought that he had been riding all these days -side by side with a very prince among traitors. His face hardened. His -own duty was not plain to him, and that perturbed him so much that his -habitual outward self-repression gave way. He could not sit still -while he was driven by his perplexities. He sprang up, walking up and -down between the trees. Ought he to send a man straight off to Brechin -with a summary of the beggar's statement? He could not vouch for the -truth of his information, and there was every chance of it being -disregarded, and himself marked as the discoverer of a mare's nest. -There was scarcely anything more repugnant to Callandar than the -thought of himself in this character, and for that reason, if for no -other, he inclined to the risk; for he had the overwhelmingly -conscientious man's instinct for martyrdom. - -His mind was made up. He took out his pocket-book and wrote what he -had to say in the fewest and shortest words. Then he called the -corporal, and, to his extreme astonishment, ordered him to ride to -Brechin. When the man had saddled his horse, he gave him the slip of -paper. He had no means of sealing it, here in the fir-wood, but the -messenger was a trusted man, one to whom he would have committed -anything with absolute conviction. He was sorry that he had to lose -him, for he could not tell how long he might be kept on the edge of -the Muir, nor how much country he would have to search with his tiny -force; but there was no help for it, and he trusted that the corporal -would be sent back to him before the morrow. He was the only person to -whom he could give the open letter. When the soldier had mounted, -Callandar accompanied him to the confines of the wood, giving him -instructions from the map he carried. - -Wattie sat on the ground beside his cart; his back was against a -little raised bank. Where his feet should have been, the yellow dog -was stretched, asleep. As Callandar and his corporal disappeared among -the trees, he began to sing 'The Tod' in his rich voice, throwing an -atmosphere of dramatic slyness into the words that made his hearers -shout with delight at the end of each verse. - -When he had finished the song, he was barely suffered to take breath -before being compelled to begin again; even the prisoner, who lay -resting, still bound, within sight of the soldiers, listened, laughing -into his red beard. But suddenly he stopped, rising to his feet: - - "A lang-leggit deevil wi' his hand upon the gate, - An' aye the Guidwife cries to him----" - -Wattie's voice fell, cutting the line short, for a rush of steps was -bursting through the trees--was close on them, dulled by the -pine-needles underfoot--sweeping over the stumps and the naked roots. -The beggar stared, clutching at the bank. His three companions sprang -up. - -The wood rang with shots, and one of the soldiers rolled over on his -face, gasping as he tried to rise, struggling and snatching at the -ground with convulsed fingers. The remaining two ran, one towards the -prisoner, and one towards the horses which were plunging against each -other in terror; the latter man dropped midway, with a bullet through -his head. - -The swiftness of the undreamed-of misfortune struck panic into Wattie, -as he sat alone, helpless, incapable either of flight or of -resistance. One of his dogs was caught by the leaden hail and lay -fighting its life out a couple of paces from where he was left, a -defenceless thing in this sudden storm of death. Two of the remaining -three went rushing through the trees, yelping as the stampeding horses -added their share to the danger and riot. These had torn up their -heel-pegs, which, wrenched easily from a resistance made for the most -part of moss and pine-needles, swung and whipped at the ends of the -flying ropes behind the crazy animals as they dashed about. The -surviving trooper had contrived to catch his own horse, and was riding -for his life towards the road by which they had come from Edzell. The -only quiet thing besides the beggar was the yellow cur who stood at -his master's side, stiff and stubborn and ugly, the coarse hair rising -on his back. - -Wattie's panic grew as the drumming of hoofs increased and the horses -dashed hither and thither. He was more afraid of them than of the -ragged enemy that had descended on the wood. The dead troopers lay -huddled, one on his face and the other on his side; the wounded dog's -last struggles had ceased. Half a dozen men were pursuing the horses -with outstretched arms, and Callandar's charger had broken loose with -its comrades, and was thundering this way and that, snorting and -leaping, with cocked ears and flying mane. - -The beggar watched them with a horror which his dislike and fear of -horses made agonizing, the menace of these irresponsible creatures, -mad with excitement and terror, so heavy, so colossal when seen from -his own helpless nearness to the earth that was shaking under their -tread, paralyzed him. His impotence enwrapped him, tragic, horrible, a -nightmare woven of death's terrors; he could not escape; there was no -shelter from the thrashing hoofs, the gleaming iron of the shoes. The -cumbrous perspective of the great animals blocked out the sky with its -bulk as their rocking bodies went by, plunging, slipping, recovering -themselves within the cramped circle of the open space. He knew -nothing of what was happening, nor did he see that the prisoner stood -freed from his bonds. He knew James Logie by sight, and he knew -Ferrier, but, though both were standing by the red-bearded man, he -recognized neither. He had just enough wits left to understand that -Callandar's bivouac had been attacked, but he recked of nothing but -the thundering horses that were being chased to and fro as the circle -of men closed in. He felt sick as it narrowed and he could only -flatten himself, stupefied, against the bank. The last thing he saw -was the yellow coat of his dog, as the beast cowered and snapped, -keeping his post with desperate tenacity in the din. - -The bank against which he crouched cut the clearing diagonally, and as -the men pressed in nearer round the horses, Callandar's charger broke -out of the circle followed by the two others. A cry from the direction -in which they galloped, and the sound of frantic nearing hoofs, told -that they had been headed back once more. The bank was high enough to -hide Wattie from them as they returned, but he could feel the earth -shake with their approach, which rang in his ears like the roar of -some dread, implacable fate. He could see nothing now, as he lay -half-blind with fear, but he was aware that his dog had leaped upon -the bank behind him, and he heard the well-known voice, hoarse and -brutal with defiant agony, just above his head. All the qualities that -have gone to make the dog the outcast of the East seemed to show in -the cur's attitude as he raised himself, an insignificant, common -beast, in the path of the great, noble, stampeding creatures. It was -the curse of his curship that in this moment of his life, when he -hurled all that was his in the world--his low-bred body--against the -danger that swooped on his master, he should take on no nobility of -aspect, nothing to picture forth the heart that smote against his -panting ribs. Another moment and the charger had leaped at the bank, -just above the spot where Skirling Wattie's grizzled head lay against -the sod. - -The cur sprang up against the overwhelming bulk, the smiting hoofs, -the whirl of heel-ropes, and struck in mid-air by the horse's knee, -was sent rolling down the slope. As he fell there was a thud of -dislodged earth, and the charger, startled by the sudden apparition of -the prostrate figure below him, slipped on the bank, stumbled, sprang, -and checked by the flying rope, crashed forward, burying the beggar -under his weight. - -James and Ferrier ran forward as the animal struggled to its feet, -unhurt; it tore past the men, who had broken their line as they -watched the fall. The three horses made off between the trees, and -Logie approached the beggar. He lay crushed and mangled, as quiet as -the dead troopers on the ground. - -There was no mistaking Wattie's rigid stillness, and as James and -Ferrier, with the red-bearded man, approached him, they knew that he -would never rise to blow his pipes nor to fill the air with his voice -again. The yellow dog was stretched, panting, a couple of paces from -the grotesque body, which had now, for the first time, taken on -dignity. As Logie bent to examine him, and would have lifted him, the -cur dragged himself up; one of his hind-legs was broken, but he -crawled snarling to the beggar's side, and turned his maimed body to -face the men who should dare to lay a hand on Wattie. The drops poured -from his hanging tongue and his eye was alight with the dull flame of -pain. He would have torn Logie to bits if he could, as he trailed -himself up to shelter the dead man from his touch. He made a great -effort to get upon his legs and his jaws closed within an inch of -James's arm. - -One of the men drew the pistol from his belt. - -"Ay, shoot the brute," said another. - -James held up his hand. - -"The man is dead," said he, looking over his shoulder at his comrades. - -"And you would be the same if yon dog could reach you," rejoined -Ferrier. "Let me shoot him. He will only die lying here." - -"Let him be. His leg is broken, that is all." - -The cur made another attempt to get his teeth into Logie, and almost -succeeded. - -Ferrier raised his pistol again, but James thrust it back. - -"The world needs a few such creatures as that in it," said he. "Lord! -Ferrier, what a heart there is in the poor brute!" - -"Stand away from him, Logie, he is half mad." - -"We must get away from this place," said James, unheeding, "or that -man who has ridden away will bring the whole country about our ears. -It has been a narrow escape for you, Gourlay," he said to the released -prisoner. "We must leave the old vagabond lying where he is." - -"There is no burying him with that devil left alive!" cried Ferrier. -"I promise you I will not venture to touch him." - -"My poor fellow," said James, turning to the dog, "it is of no use; -you cannot save him. God help you for the truest friend that a man -ever had!" - -He pulled off his coat and approached him. The men stood round, -looking on in amazement as he flung it over the yellow body. The dog -yelled as Logie grasped and lifted him, holding him fast in his arms; -but his jaws were muffled in the coat, and the pain of the broken limb -was weakening his struggles. - -Ferrier looked on with his hands on his hips. He admired the dog, but -did not always understand James. - -"You are going to hamper yourself with him now?" he exclaimed. - -"Give me the piper's bonnet," said the other. "There! push it into the -crook of my arm between the poor brute and me. It will make him go the -easier. You will need to scatter now. Leave the piper where he is. A -few inches of earth will do him no good. Ferrier, I am going. You and -I will have to lie low for awhile after this." - -The cur had grown exhausted, and ceased to fight; he shivered and -snuffled feebly at the Kilmarnock bonnet, the knob of which made a red -spot against the shirt on James's broad breast. Ferrier and Gourlay -glanced after him as he went off between the trees. But as they had no -time to waste on the sight of his eccentricities, they disappeared in -different directions. - -Dusk was beginning to fall on the wood and on the dead beggar as he -lay with his two silent comrades, looking towards the Grampians from -the top of Huntly Hill. - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE MUIR OF PERT - -CALLANDAR watched his corporal riding away from the confines of the -wood. His eyes followed the horse as it disappeared into hollows and -threaded its way among lumps of rock. He stood for some time looking -out over the landscape, now growing cold with the loss of the sun, his -mind full of Flemington. Then he turned back with a sigh to retrace -his way. His original intention in bringing Wattie up the hill came -back to him, and he remembered that he had yet to discover whether he -could identify the red-bearded man. It was at this moment that the -fusillade from his halting-place burst upon him. He stopped, -listening, then ran forward into the wood, the map from which he had -been directing the corporal clutched in his hand. - -He had gone some distance with the soldier, so he only reached the -place when the quick disaster was over to hear the hoof-beats of the -escaping horses dying out as they galloped down Huntly Hill. The smoke -of the firearms hung below the branches like a grey canopy, giving the -unreality of a vision to the spectacle before him. He could not see -the beggar's body, but the overturned cart was in full view, a -ridiculous object, with its wooden wheels raised, as though in -protest, to the sky. He looked in vain for a sign of his third man, -and at the sight of the uniform upon the two dead figures lying on the -ground he understood that he was alone. Of the three private soldiers -who had followed him down Glen Esk there was not one left with him. -Archie, the traitor, was gone, and only the red-bearded man remained. -He could see him in the group that was watching James Logie as he -captured the struggling dog. - -Callandar ground his teeth; then he dropped on one knee and -contemplated the sight from behind the great circle of roots and earth -that a fallen tree had torn from the sod. Of all men living he was one -of the last who might be called a coward, but neither was he one of -those hot-heads who will plunge, to their own undoing and to that of -other people, into needless disaster. He would have gone grimly into -the hornet's nest before him, pistol in hand, leaving heaven to take -care of the result, had the smallest advantage to his king and country -been attainable thereby. His own death or capture would do no more -than prevent him from carrying news of what had happened to -headquarters, and he decided, with the promptness hidden behind his -taciturn demeanour, that his nearest duty was to identify James Logie, -if he were present. Callandar's duty was the only thing that he always -saw quickly. - -From his shelter he marked the two Jacobite officers, and, as he knew -Ferrier very well from description, he soon made out the man he -wanted. James was changed since the time when he had first come across -Archie's path. His clothes were worn and stained, and the life of -wandering and concealment that he had led since he parted from the -Prince had set its mark on him. He had slept in as many strange places -of late as had the dead beggar at his feet; anxious watching and lack -of food and rest were levelling the outward man to something more -primitive and haggard than the gallant-looking gentleman of the days -before Culloden, yet there remained to him the atmosphere that could -never be obliterated, the personality that he could never lose until -the earth should lie on him. He was no better clothed than those who -surrounded him, but his pre-eminence was plain. The watcher devoured -him with his eyes as he turned from his comrades, carrying the dog. - -As soon as he was out of sight, the rebels scattered quietly, and -Callandar crouched lower, praying fortune to prevent anyone from -passing his retreat. None approached him, and he was left with the -three dead men in possession of the wood. - -He rose and looked at his silent comrades. It would be useless to -follow Logie, because, with so many of his companions dispersing at -this moment about the fringes of the Muir of Pert, he could hardly -hope to do so unobserved. There would be no chance of getting to close -quarters with him, which was Callandar's chief desire, for the mere -suspicion of a hostile presence would only make James shift his -hiding-place before the gathering troops could draw their cordon round -him. He abandoned the idea with regret, telling himself that he must -make a great effort to get to Brechin and to return with a mounted -force in time to take action in the morning. The success of his ambush -and his ignorance that he had been watched would keep Logie quiet for -the night. - -He decided to take the only road that he knew, the one by which -Flemington had left him. The upper one entangled itself in the Muir, -and might lead him into some conclave of the enemy. He began to -descend in the shadows of the coming darkness that was drawing itself -like an insidious net over the spacious land. He had almost reached -the road, when a moving object not far from him made him stop. A man -was hurrying up the hill some little way to his right, treading -swiftly along, and, though his head was turned from Callandar, and he -was not near enough for him to distinguish his features, the sling -across his shoulder told him that it was Flemington. - -Callandar stood still, staring after him. Archie's boldness took away -his breath. Here he was, returning on his tracks, and if he kept his -direction, he would have to pass within a few hundred yards of the -spot on which he knew that the companions he had left would be halted; -Callandar had pointed out the place to him as they approached the hill -together. - -Archie took a wider sweep as he neared the wood, and the soldier, -standing in the shadow of a rowan-tree, whose berries were already -beginning to colour for autumn, saw that he was making for the Muir, -and knew that the beggar was justified. One thing only could be -bringing him back. He had come, as Wattie had predicted, to warn -Logie. - -He had spoken wisdom, that dead vagabond, lying silent for ever among -the trees; he had assured him that Flemington would not suffer him to -take Logie. He knew him, and he had laughed at the idea of his wounded -arm turning him out of his road. "It's no the like o' that that gars -the like o' him greet," he had said; and he was right. Callandar, -watching the definite course of the figure through the dusk, was sure -that he was taking the simplest line to a retreat whose exact position -he knew. He turned and followed, running from cover to cover, his -former errand abandoned. It was strange that, in spite of all, a vague -gladness was in his heart, as he thought that Archie was not the soft -creature that he had pretended to be. There were generous things in -Callandar. Then his generous impulse turned back on him in bitterness, -for it occurred to him that Archie had been aware of what lay waiting -for them, and had saved himself from possible accident in time. - -They went on till they reached the border of the Muir, Flemington -going as unconcernedly as if he were walking in the streets of -Brechin, though he kept wide of the spot on which he believed the -riders to have disposed themselves for the night. There was no one who -knew him in that part of the country, and he wore no uniform to make -him conspicuous in the eyes of any chance passer in this lonely -neighbourhood. As Callandar emerged from the straggling growth at the -Muir's edge, he saw him still in front going through the deep -thickness of the heather. - -Callandar wished that he knew how far the Muir extended, and exactly -what lay on its farther side. His map was thrust into his coat, but it -was now far too dark for him to make use of it; the tall figure was -only just visible, and he redoubled his pace, gaining a little on it. -A small stationary light shone ahead, evidently the window of some -muirland hovel. There is nothing so difficult to decide as the -distance of a light at night, but he guessed that it was the goal -towards which Archie was leading. He went forward, till the young -man's voice hailing someone and the sound of knocking made him stop -and throw himself down in the heather. He thought he heard a door -shut. When all had been quiet for a minute he rose up, and, -approaching the house, took up his stand not a dozen yards from the -walls. - -Perplexity came on him. He had been surprisingly successful in -pursuing Flemington unnoticed as far as this hovel, but he had yet to -find out who was inside it. Perhaps the person he had heard speaking -was Logie, but equally perhaps not. There was no sound of voices -within, though he heard movements; he dared not approach the -uncurtained window to look in, for the person whose step he heard was -evidently standing close to it. He would wait, listening for that -person to move away, and then would try his luck. He had spent perhaps -ten minutes thus occupied when, without a warning sound, the door -opened and Archie stood on the threshold, as still as though he were -made of marble. It was too dark for either man to see more than the -other's blurred outline. - -Flemington looked out into the night. - -"Come in, Callandar!" he called. "You are the very man I want!" - -The soldier's astonishment was such that his feet seemed frozen to the -ground. He did not stir. - -"Come!" cried Archie. "You have followed me so far that you surely -will not turn back at the last step. I need you urgently, man. Come -in!" - -He held the door open. - -Callandar entered, pushing past him, and found himself in a low, small -room, wretchedly furnished, with another at the back opening out of -it. Both were empty, and the light he had seen was standing on the -table. - -"There is no one here!" he exclaimed. - -"No," said Flemington. - -"Where is the man you were speaking to?" - -"He is gone. The ill-mannered rogue would not wait to receive you." - -"It was that rebel! It was Captain Logie!" cried Callandar. - -"It was not Logie; you may take my word for that," replied Archie. He -sat down on the edge of the table and crossed his legs. "Try again, -Callandar," he said lightly. - -Callandar's lips were drawn into an even line, but they were shaking. -The mortification of finding that Archie had been aware of his -presence, had pursued his way unconcerned, knowing that he followed, -had called him in as a man calls the serving-man he has left outside, -was hot in him. No wonder his own concealment had seemed so easy. - -"You have sent him to warn Logie--that is what you have done!" he -cried. "You are a scoundrel--I know that!" - -He stepped up to him, and would have laid hold of his collar, but the -sling stopped him. - -"I have. Callandar, you are a genius." - -As the other stood before him, speechless, Flemington rose up. - -"You have got to arrest me," he said; "that is why I called you in. I -might have run out by the back of the house, like the man who is gone, -who went with my message almost before the door was shut. Look! I have -only one serviceable arm and no sword. I left it where I left my -horse. And here is my pistol; I will lay it on the table, so you will -have no trouble in taking me prisoner. You have not had your stalking -for nothing, after all, you mighty hunter before the Lord!" - -"You mean to give yourself up--you, who have taken so much care to -save yourself?" - -"I have meant to ever since I saw you under the rowan-tree watching -me, flattened against the trunk like a squirrel. I would as soon be -your prisoner as anyone else's--sooner, I think." - -"I cannot understand you!" exclaimed Callandar, taking possession of -the weapon Archie had laid down. - -"It is hard enough to understand oneself, but I do at last," said the -other. "Once I thought life easy, but mine has been mighty difficult -lately. From here on it will be quite simple. And there will not be -much more of it, I fancy." - -"You are right there," said Callandar grimly. - -"I can see straight before me now. I tell you life has grown simple." - -"You lied at the cross roads." - -"I did. How you looked after me as I went! Well, I have done what I -suppose no one has ever done before: I have threatened to report you -for neglecting your duty." He threw back his head and laughed. "And I -am obliged to tell you to arrest me now. O Callandar, who will correct -your backslidings when there is an end of me?" - -The other did not smile as he looked at Flemington's laughing eyes, -soft and sparkling under the downward curve of his brows. Through his -anger, the pity of it all was smiting him, though he was so little -given to sentiment. Perhaps Archie's charm had told on him all the -time they had been together, though he had never decided whether he -liked him or not. And he looked so young when he laughed. - -"What have you done?" he cried, pacing suddenly up and down the little -room. "You have run on destruction, Flemington; you have thrown your -life away. Why have you done this--you?" - -"If a thing is worthless, there is nothing to do but throw it away." - -Callandar watched him with pain in his eyes. - -"What made you suspect me?" asked Archie. "You can tell me anything -now. There is only one end to this business. It will be the making of -you." - -"Pshaw!" exclaimed the other, turning away. - -"Why did you follow me?" continued Archie. - -Callandar was silent. - -"Tell me this," he said at last: "What makes you give yourself up now, -without a struggle or a protest, when little more than two hours ago -you ran from what you knew was to come, there, at the foot of the -hill? Surely your friends would have spared _you!_" - -"Now it is I who do not understand you," said Archie. - -His companion stood in front of him, searching his face. - -"Flemington, are you lying? On your soul, are you lying?" - -"Of what use are lies to me now?" exclaimed Archie impatiently. "Truth -is a great luxury; believe me, I enjoy it." - -"You knew nothing of what was waiting for us at the top of Huntly -Hill?" - -"Nothing, as I live," said Archie. - -"The beggar betrayed you," said Callandar. "When you were gone he told -me that you were in Logie's pay--that you would warn him. He was -right, Flemington." - -"I am not in Logie's pay--I never was," broke in Archie. - -"I did not know what to think," the soldier went on; "but I took him -up Huntly Hill with me, and when we had unsaddled, and the men were -lying under the trees, I sent the corporal to Brechin with the -information. I went with him to the edge of the wood, and when I came -back there was not a man left alive. Logie and Ferrier were there with -a horde of their rebels. They had come to rescue the prisoner, and he -was loose." - -"Then he _was_ Ferrier's cousin!" exclaimed Flemington. "We were -right." - -"One of my men escaped," continued Callandar, "or I suppose so, for he -was gone. The beggar and the other two were killed, and the horses had -stampeded." - -"So Wattie is dead," mused Flemington. "Gad, what a voice has gone -with him!" - -"They did not see me, but I watched them; I saw him--Logie--he went -off quickly, and he took one of the beggar's dogs with him, snarling -and struggling, with his head smothered in his coat. Then I went down -the hill, meaning to make for Brechin, and I saw you coming back. I -knew what you were about, thanks to that beggar." - -Neither spoke for a minute. Archie was still sitting on the table. He -had been looking on the ground, and he raised his eyes to his -companion's face. - -Something stirred in him, perhaps at the thought of how he stood with -fate. He was not given to thinking about himself, but he might well do -so now. - -"Callandar," he said, "I dare say you don't like me----" Then he broke -off, laughing. "How absurd!" he exclaimed. "Of course you hate me; it -is only right you should. But perhaps you will understand--I think you -will, if you will listen. I was thrown against Logie--no matter -how--but, unknowing what he did, he put his safety in my hands. He did -more. I had played upon his sympathy, and in the generosity of his -heart he came to my help as one true man might do to another. I was -not a true man, but he did not know that; he knew nothing of me but -that I stood in need, and he believed I was as honest as himself. He -thought I was with his own cause. That was what I wished him to -believe--had almost told him." - -Callandar listened, the lines of his long face set. - -"I had watched him and hunted him," continued Archie, "and my -information against him was already in the beggar's hands, on its way -to its mark. I could not bring myself to do more against him then. -What I did afterwards was done without mention of his name. You see, -Callandar, I have been true to nobody." - -He paused, waiting for comment, but the other made none. - -"After that I went to Edinburgh," he continued, "and he joined the -Prince. Then I went north with Cumberland. I was freed from my -difficulty until they sent me here to take him. The Duke gave me my -orders himself, and I had to go. That ride with you was hell, -Callandar, and when we met the beggar to-day I had to make my choice. -That was the turning-point for me. I could not go on." - -"He said it was not your wound that turned you aside." - -"He was a shrewd rascal," said Flemington. "I wish I could tell how he -knew so much about me." - -"It was your own tongue: once you spent the night in a barn together -when you were light-headed from a blow, and you spoke all night of -Logie. You said enough to put him on your track. That is what he told -me as we went up Huntly Hill." - -Archie shrugged his shoulders and rose up. - -"Now, what are you going to do?" he said. - -"I am going to take you to Brechin." - -"Come, then," said Archie, "we shall finish our journey together after -all. It has been a hard day. I am glad it is over." - -They went out together. As Callandar drew the door to behind them -Archie stood still. - -"If I have dealt double with Logie, I will not do so with the king," -said he. "This is the way out of my difficulty. Do you understand me, -Callandar?" - -The darkness hid the soldier's face. - -Perhaps of all the people who had played their part in the tangle of -destiny, character, circumstance, or whatsoever influences had brought -Flemington to the point at which he stood, he was the one who -understood him best. - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE VANITY OF MEN - -THE last months had been a time of great anxiety to Lord Balnillo. In -spite of his fine steering, and though he had escaped from -molestation, he was not comfortable as he saw the imprisonments and -confiscations that were going on; and the precariousness of all that -had been secure disturbed him and made him restless. He was unsettled, -too, by his long stay in Edinburgh, and he hankered afresh after the -town life in which he had spent so many of his years. His trees and -parks interested him still, but he looked on them, wondering how long -he would be allowed to keep them. He was lonely, and he missed James, -whom he had not seen since long before Culloden, the star of whose -destiny had led him out again into the world of chance. - -He had the most upsetting scheme under consideration that a man of his -age can entertain. At sixty-four it is few people who think seriously -of changing their state, yet this was what David Balnillo had in mind; -for he had found so many good reasons for offering his hand to -Christian Flemington that he had decided at last to take that -portentous step. The greatest of these was the effect that an alliance -with the Whig lady would produce in the quarters from which he feared -trouble. His estate would be pretty safe if Madam Flemington reigned -over it. - -It was pleasant to picture her magnificent presence at his table; her -company would rid country life of its dulness, and on the visits to -Edinburgh, which he was sure she would wish to make, the new Lady -Balnillo would turn their lodging into a bright spot in society. He -smoothed his silk stockings as he imagined the stir that his belated -romance would make. He would be the hero of it, and its heroine, -besides being a safeguard to his property, would be a credit to -himself. - -There were some obstacles to his plan, and one of them was Archie; but -he believed that, with a little diplomacy, that particular difficulty -might be overcome. He would attack that side of the business in a very -straightforward manner. He would make Madam Flemington understand that -he was large-minded enough to look upon the episode in which he had -borne the part of victim in a reasonable yet airy spirit. In the game -in which their political differences had brought them face to face the -honours had been with the young man; he would admit that with a smile -and with the respect that one noble enemy accords to another. He would -assure her that bygones should be bygones, and that when he claimed -Archie as his grandson-in-law, he would do so without one grudging -backward glance at the circumstances in which they had first met. His -magnanimity seemed to him an almost touching thing, and he played with -the idea of his own apposite grace when, in some sly but genial -moment, he would suggest that the portrait upstairs should be -finished. - -What had given the final touch to his determination was a message that -James had contrived to send him, which removed the last scruple from -his heart. His brother's danger had weighed upon David, and it was not -only its convenience to himself at this juncture which made him -receive it with relief. Logie was leaving the country for Holland, and -the next tidings of him would come from there, should he be lucky -enough to reach its shores alive. - -Since the rescue of Gourlay the neighbourhood of the Muir of Pert--the -last of his haunts in which Logie could trust himself--had become -impossible for him, and he was now striving to get to a creek on the -coast below Peterhead. It was some time since a roof had been over -him, and the little cottage from which Flemington had despatched his -urgent warning stood empty. Its inmate had been his unsuspected -connection with the world since his time of wandering had begun; for -though his fatal mistake in discovering this link in his chain of -communication to Flemington had made him abjure its shelter, he had -had no choice for some time between the Muir and any other place. - -The western end of the county swarmed with troops. Montrose was -subdued; the passes of the Grampians were watched; there remained only -this barren tract west of the river; and the warning brought to him -from a nameless source had implored him to abandon it before the -soldiery, which his informant assured him was collecting to sweep it -from end to end, should range itself on its borders. - -Archie had withheld his name when he sent the dweller in the little -hovel speeding into the night. He was certain that in making it known -to James he would defeat his own ends, for Logie would scarcely be -disposed to trust his good faith, and might well look on the message -as a trick to drive him into some trap waiting for him between the -Muir and the sea. - -James did not give his brother any details of his projected flight; he -merely bade him an indefinite good-bye. The game was up--even he was -obliged to admit that--and Ferrier, whose ardent spirit had been one -with his own since the beginning of all things, was already making for -a fishing village, from which he hoped to be smuggled out upon the -high seas. Nothing further could be gained in Angus for the Stuart -cause. The friends had spent themselves since April in their -endeavours to resuscitate the feeling in the country, but there was no -more money to be raised, no more men to be collected. They told -themselves that all they could do now was to wait in the hope of a day -when their services might be needed again. That day would find them -both ready, if they were above ground. - -David knew that, had James been in Scotland, he would not have dared -to think of bringing Christian Flemington to Balnillo. - -He had a feeling of adventure when he started from his own door for -Ardguys. The slight awe with which Christian still inspired him, even -when she was most gracious, was beginning to foreshadow itself, and he -knew that his bones would be mighty stiff on the morrow; there was no -riding of the circuit now to keep him in practice in the saddle. But -he was not going to give way to silly apprehensions, unsuited to his -age and position; he would give himself every chance in the way of -effect. The servant who rode after him carried a handsome riding-suit -for his master to don at Forfar before making the last stage of his -road. It grieved Balnillo to think how much of the elegance of his -well-turned legs must be unrevealed by his high boots. He was a -personable old gentleman, and his grey cob was worthy of carrying an -eligible wooer. He reached Ardguys, and dismounted under its walls on -the following afternoon. - -He had sent no word in front of him. Christian rose when he was -ushered into her presence, and laid down the book in her hand, -surprised. - -"You are as unexpected as an earthquake," she exclaimed, as she saw -who was her visitor. - -"But not as unwelcome?" said David. - -"Far from it. Sit down, my lord. I had begun to forget that -civilization existed, and now I am reminded of it." - -He bowed, delighted. - -A few messages and compliments, a letter or two despatched by hand, -had been their only communications since the judge left Edinburgh, and -his spirits rose as he found that she seemed really pleased to see -him. - -"And what has brought you?" asked Christian, settling herself with the -luxurious deliberation of a cat into the large chair from which she -had risen. "Something good, certainly." - -"The simple desire to see you, ma'am. Could anything be better?" - -It was an excellent opening; but he had never, even in his youth, been -a man who ran full tilt upon anything. He had scarcely ever before -made so direct a speech. - -She smiled, amused. There had been plenty of time for thought in her -solitude; but, though she had thought a good deal about him, she had -not a suspicion of his errand. She saw people purely in relation to -the uses she had for them, and, officially, she had pronounced him -harmless to the party in whose interests she had kept him at her side. -The circumstances were not those which further sentiment. - -"I have spent this quiet time in remembering your kindnesses to me," -he began, inspired by her smile. - -"You call it a quiet time?" she interrupted. "I had not looked on it -in that way. Quiet for us, perhaps, but not for the country." - -"True, true," said he, in the far-away tone in which some people seek -to let unprofitable subjects melt. - -Now that the active part of the rebellion had become history, she had -no hesitation in speaking out from her solid place on the winning -side. - -"This wretched struggle is over, and we may be plain with one another, -Lord Balnillo," she continued. "You, at least, have had much to alarm -you." - -"I have been a peaceful servant of law and order all my life," said -he, "and as such I have conceived it my place to stand aloof. It has -been my duty to restrain violence of all kinds." - -"But you have not restrained your belongings," she observed boldly. - -He was so much taken aback that he said nothing. - -"Well, my lord, it is one of my regrets that I have never seen Captain -Logie. At least you have to be proud of a gallant man," she went on, -with the same impulse that makes all humanity set a fallen child upon -its legs. - -But Balnillo had a genius for scrambling to his feet. - -"My brother has left the country in safety," he rejoined, with one of -those random flashes of sharpness that had stood him in such good -stead. His cunning was his guardian angel; for he did not know what -she knew--namely, that Archie had left Fort Augustus in pursuit of -James. - -"Indeed?" she said, silenced. - -She was terribly disappointed, but she hid her feelings in barefaced -composure. - -The judge drew his chair closer. Here was another opening, and his -very nervousness pushed him towards it. - -"Ma'am," he began, clearing his throat, "I shall not despair of -presenting James to you. When the country is settled--if--in -short----" - -"I imagine that Captain Logie will hardly trust himself in Scotland -either in my lifetime or in yours. We are old, you and I," she added, -the bitterness of her disappointment surging through her words. - -She watched him to see whether this barbed truth pierced him; it -pierced herself as she hurled it. - -"Maybe," said he; "but age has not kept me from the business I have -come upon. I have come to put a very particular matter before you." - -She was still unsuspicious, but she grew impatient. He had wearied her -often in Edinburgh with tedious histories of himself, and she had -endured them then for reasons of policy; but she felt no need of doing -so here. It was borne in upon her, as it has been borne in upon many -of us, that a person who is acceptable in town may be unendurable in -the country. She had not thought of that as she welcomed him. - -"Ma'am," he went on, intent on nothing but his affair, "I may surprise -you--I trust I shall not offend you. At least you will approve the -feelings of devotion, of respect, of admiration which have brought me -here. I have an ancient name, I have sufficient means--I am not -ill-looking, I believe----" - -"Are you making me a proposal, my lord?" - -She spoke with an accent of derision; the sting of it was sharp in her -tone. - -"There is no place for ridicule, ma'am. I see nothing unsuitable in my -great regard for you." - -He spoke with real dignity. - -She had not suspected him of having any, personally, and she had -forgotten that an inherited stock of it was behind him. The rebuke -astonished her so much that she scarcely knew what reply to make. - -"As I said, I believe I am not ill-looking," he repeated, with an air -that lost him his advantage. "I can offer you such a position as you -have a right to expect." - -"You also offer me a brother-in-law whose destination may be the -scaffold," she said brutally; "do not forget that." - -This was not to be denied, and for a moment he was put out. But it was -on these occasions that he shone. - -"Let us dismiss family matters from our minds and think only of -ourselves," said he; "my brother is an outlaw, and as such is -unacceptable to you, and your grandson has every reason to be ashamed -to meet me. We can set these disadvantages, one against the other, and -agree to ignore them." - -"I am not disposed to ignore Archie," said she. - -"Well, ma'am, neither am I. I hope I am a large-minded man--indeed, no -one can sit on the bench for the time that I have sat on it and not -realize the frailty of all creatures----" - -"My lord----" began Christian. - -But it is something to have learned continuance of speech -professionally, and Balnillo was launched; also his own magnanimous -attitude had taken his fancy. - -"I will remember nothing against him," said he. "I will forget his -treatment of my hospitality, and the discreditable uses to which he -put my roof." - -"Sir!" broke in Christian. - -"I will remember that, according to his lights, he was in the exercise -of his duty. Whatsoever may be my opinion of the profession to which -he was compelled, I will thrust it behind me with the things best -forgotten." - -"That is enough, Lord Balnillo," cried Madam Flemington, rising. - -"Sit, madam, sit. Do not disturb yourself! Understand me, that I will -allow every leniency. I will make every excuse! I will dwell, not on -the fact that he was a spy, but on his enviable relationship to -yourself." - -She stood in the middle of the room, threatening him with her eyes. -Some people tremble when roused to the pitch of anger that she had -reached; some gesticulate; Christian was still. - -He had risen too. - -"If you suppose that I could connect myself with a disloyal house you -are much mistaken," she said, controlling herself with an effort. "I -have no quarrel with your name, Lord Balnillo; it is old enough. My -quarrel is with the treason in which it has been dipped. But I am very -well content with my own. Since I have borne it, I have kept it clean -from any taint of rebellion." - -"But I have been a peaceful man," he protested. "As I told you, the -law has been my profession. I have raised a hand against no one." - -"Do you think I do not know you?" exclaimed she. "Do you suppose that -my ears were shut in the winter, and that I heard nothing in all the -months I spent in Edinburgh? What of that, Lord Balnillo?" - -"You made no objection to me then, ma'am. I was made happy by being of -service to you." - -She laughed scornfully. - -"Let us be done with this," she said. "You have offered yourself to me -and I refuse the offer. I will add my thanks." - -The last words were a masterpiece of insolent civility. - -A gilt-framed glass hung on the wall, one of the possessions that she -had brought with her from France. David suddenly caught sight of his -own head reflected in it above the lace cravat for which he had paid -so much; the spectacle gathered up his recollections and his present -mortification, and fused them into one stab of hurt vanity. - -"I see that you can make no further use of me," he said. - -"None." - -He walked out of the room. At the door he turned and bowed. - -"If you will allow me, I will call for my horse myself," said he. - -He went out of the house and she stood where she was, thinking of what -he had told her about his brother; she had set her heart upon Archie's -success in taking Logie, and now the man had left the country and his -chance was gone. The proposal to which she had just listened did not -matter to her one way or the other, though he had offended her by the -attitude he took up when making it. He was unimportant. It was of -Archie that she thought as she watched the judge and his servant ride -away between the ash-trees. They were crossing the Kilpie burn when -her maid came in, bringing a letter. The writing on it was strange to -Christian. - -"Who has brought this?" she asked as she opened it. - -"Just a callant," replied the girl. - -She read the letter, which was short. It was signed 'R. Callandar, -Captain,' and was written at Archie Flemington's request to tell her -that he was under arrest at Brechin on a charge of conspiring with the -king's enemies. - -The writer added a sentence, unknown, as he explained, to Flemington. - -"The matter is serious," he wrote, "the Duke of Cumberland is still in -Edinburgh. It might be well if you could see him. Make no delay, as we -await his orders." - -She stood, turning cold, her eyes fixed on the maid. - -"Eh--losh, mem!" whimpered Mysie, approaching her with her hands -raised. - -Madam Flemington felt as though her brain refused to work. There -seemed to be nothing to drive it forward. The world stood still. The -walls, an imprisoning horror, shut her in from all movement, all -action, when action was needed. She had never felt Ardguys to be so -desperately far from the reach of humanity, herself so much cut off -from it, as now. And yet she must act. Her nearest channel of -communication was the judge, riding away. - -"Fool!" she cried, seizing Mysie, "run--run! Send the boy after Lord -Balnillo. Tell him to run!" - -The maid hesitated, staring at the pallor of her mistress's face. - -"Eh, but, mem--sit you down!" she wailed. - -Christian thrust her from her path as though she had been a piece of -furniture, and swept into the hall. A barefooted youth was outside by -the door. He stared at her, as Mysie had done. She took him by the -shoulder. - -"Run! Go instantly after those horses! That is Lord Balnillo!" she -cried, pointing to the riders, who were mounting the rise beyond the -burn. "Tell him to return at once. Tell him he must come back!" - -He shook off her grip and ran. He was a corner-boy from Brechin and he -had a taste for sensation. - -Madam Flemington went back into her room. Mysie followed her, -whimpering still, and she pushed her outside and sank down in her -large chair. She could not watch the window, for fear of going mad. - -She sat still and steady until she heard the thud of bare feet on the -stone steps, and then she hurried out. - -"He tell't me he wadna bide," said the corner-boy breathlessly. "He -was vera well obliged to ye, he bad' me say, but he wadna bide." - -Christian left him and shut herself into the room, alone. Callandar's -bald lines had overpowered her completely, leaving no place in her -brain for anything else. But now she saw her message from Lord -Balnillo's point of view, and anger and contempt flamed up again, even -in the midst of her trouble. - -"The vanity of men! Ah, God, the vanity of men!" she cried, throwing -out her hands, as though to put the whole race of them from her. - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -A ROYAL DUKE - -THE Duke of Cumberland was at Holyrood House. He had come down from -the North by way of Stirling, and having spent some days in Edinburgh, -he was making his final arrangements to set out for England. He was -returning in the enviable character of conquering hero, and he knew -that a great reception awaited him in London, where every preparation -was being made to do him honour; he was thinking of these things as he -sat in one of the grim rooms of the ancient palace. There was not much -luxury here; and looking across the table at which he sat and out of -the window, he could see the dirty roofs of the Canongate--a very -different prospect from the one that would soon meet his eyes. He was -sick of Scotland. - -Papers were littered on the table, and his secretary had just carried -away a bundle with him. He was alone, because he expected a lady to -whom he had promised an audience, but he was not awaiting her with the -feelings that he generally brought to such occasions. Cumberland had -received the visits of many women alone since leaving England, but his -guests were younger than the one whose approach he could now hear in -the anteroom outside. He drew his brows together, for he expected no -profit and some annoyance from the interview. - -He rose as she was ushered in and went to the open fireplace, where he -stood awaiting her, drawn up to his full height, which was not great. -The huge iron dogs behind him and the high mantel-piece above his head -dwarfed him with their large lines. He was not an ill-looking young -man, though his hair, pulled back and tied after the fashion of the -day, showed off the receding contours that fell away from his temples, -and made his blue eyes look more prominent than they were. - -He moved forward clumsily as Christian curtsied. - -"Come in, madam, come in. Be seated. I have a few minutes only to give -you," he said, pointing to a chair on the farther side of the table. - -She sat down opposite to him. - -"I had the honour of being presented to your Royal Highness last -year," she said. - -"I remember you well, ma'am," replied he shortly. - -"It is in the hope of being remembered that I have come," said she. -"It is to ask you, Sir, to remember the services of my house to -yours." - -"I remember them, ma'am; I forget nothing." - -"I am asking you, in remembering, to forget one thing," said she. "I -shall not waste your Royal Highness's time and mine in beating about -bushes. I have travelled here from my home without resting, and it is -not for me to delay now." - -He took up a pen that lay beside him, and put the quill between his -teeth. - -"Your Royal Highness knows why I have come," continued she, her eyes -falling from his own and fixing themselves on the pen in his mouth. He -removed it with his fat hand, and tossed it aside. - -"There is absolute proof against Flemington," said he. "He accuses -himself. I presume you know that." - -"I do. This man--Captain Logie--has some strange attraction for him -that I cannot understand, and did him some kindness that seems to have -turned his head. His regard for him was a purely personal one. It was -personal friendship that led him to--to the madness he has wrought. -His hands are clean of conspiracy. I have come all this way to assure -your Highness of that." - -"It is possible," said Cumberland. "The result is the same. We have -lost the man whose existence above ground is a danger to the kingdom." - -"I have come to ask you to take that difference of motive into -consideration," she went on. "Were the faintest shadow of conspiracy -proved, I should not dare to approach you; my request should not pass -my lips. I have been in correspondence with him during the whole of -the campaign, and I know that he served the king loyally. I beg your -Highness to remember that now. I speak of his motive because I know -it." - -"You are fortunate, then," he interrupted. - -"Captain Callandar, to whom he gave himself up, wrote me two letters -at his request, one in which he announced his arrest, and one which I -received as I entered my coach to leave my door. Archie knows what is -before him," she added; "he has no hope of life and no knowledge of my -action in coming to your Highness. But he wished me to know the -truth--that he had conspired with no one. He is ready to suffer for -what he has done, but he will not have me ashamed of him. Look, -Sir----" - -She pushed the letter over to him. - -"His motives may go hang, madam," said Cumberland. - -"Your Highness, if you have any regard for us who have served you, -read this!" - -He rose and went back to the fireplace. - -"There is no need, madam. I am not interested in the correspondence of -others." - -He was becoming impatient; he had spent enough time on this lady. She -was not young enough to give him any desire to detain her. She was an -uncommon-looking woman, certainly, but at her age that fact could -matter to nobody. He wondered, casually, whether the old stories about -her and Charles Edward's father were true. Women struck him only in -one light. - -"You will not read this, your Royal Highness?" said Christian, with a -little tremor of voice. - -"No, ma'am. I may tell you that my decision has not altered. The case -is not one that admits of any question." - -"Your Highness," said Christian, rising, "I have never made an abject -appeal to anyone yet, and even now, though I make it to the son of my -king, I can hardly bring myself to utter it. I deplore my--my boy's -action from the bottom of my soul. I sent him from me--I parted from -him nearly a year ago because of this man Logie." - -He faced round upon her and put his hands behind his back. - -"What!" he exclaimed, "you knew of this? You have been keeping this -affair secret between you?" - -"He went to Montrose on the track of Logie in November," said she; "he -was sent there to watch his movements before Prince Charles marched to -England, and he did so well that he contrived to settle himself under -Lord Balnillo's roof. In three days he returned to me. He had reported -on Logie's movements--I know that--your Highness's agents can produce -his report. But he returned to my house to tell me that, for some -fool's reason, some private question of sentiment, he would follow -Logie no longer. 'I will not go man-hunting after Logie'--those were -his words." - -"Madam----" began Cumberland. - -She put out her hand, and her gesture seemed to reverse their -positions. - -"I told him to go--I told him that I would sooner see him dead than -that he should side with the Stuarts! He answered me that he could -have no part with rebels, and that his act concerned Logie alone. Then -he left me, and on his way to Brechin he received orders to go to the -Government ship in Montrose Harbour. Then the ship was attacked and -taken." - -"It was Flemington's friend, Logie, who was at the bottom of that -business," said Cumberland. - -"He met Logie and they fought," said Madam Flemington. "I know none of -the details, but I know that they fought. Then he went to Edinburgh." - -"It is time that we finished with this!" exclaimed Cumberland. "No -good is served by it." - -"I am near the end, your Highness," said Christian, and then paused, -unnerved by the too great suggestiveness of her words. - -"These things are no concern of mine," he observed in the pause; "his -movements do not matter. And I may tell you, ma'am, that my leisure is -not unlimited." - -It was nearing the close of the afternoon, and the sun stood like a -red ball over the mists of the Edinburgh smoke. Cumberland's business -was over for the day, and he was looking forward to dining that -evening with a carefully chosen handful of friends, male and female. - -Her nerve was giving way against the stubborn detachment of the man. -She felt herself helpless, and her force ineffective. Life was -breaking up round her. The last man she had confronted had spurned her -in the end--through a mistake, it was true--but the opportunity had -been given him by her own loss of grip in the bewilderment of a -crisis. This one was spurning her too. But she went on. - -"He performed his work faithfully from that day forward, as your Royal -Highness knew when you took him to the North. His services are better -known to you, Sir, than to anyone else. He gave himself up to Captain -Callandar as the last proof that he could take no part with the -rebels. He threw away his life." - -"_That_, at least, is true," said the Duke, with a sneer. He was -becoming exasperated, and the emphasis which he put on the word 'that' -brought the slow blood to her face. She looked at him as though she -saw him across some mud-befouled stream. Even now her pride rose above -the despair in her heart. He was not sensitive, but her expression -stung him. - -"I am accustomed to truth," she replied. - -He turned his back. There was a silence. - -"I came to ask for Archie's life," she said, in a toneless, steady -voice, "but I will go, asking nothing. Your Royal Highness has nothing -to give that he or I would stoop to take at your hands." - -He stood doggedly, without turning, and he did not move until the -sound of her sweeping skirts had died away in the anteroom. Then he -went out, a short, stoutish figure passing along the dusty corridors -of Holyrood, and entered a room from which came the ring of men's -voices. - -A party of officers in uniform got up as he came in. Some were playing -cards. He went up to one of the players and took those he held from -between his fingers. - -"Give me your hand, Walden," said he, "and for God's sake get us a -bottle of wine. Damn me, but I hate old women! They should have their -tongues cut out." - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -THE VANISHING BIRD - -THE houses of Brechin climb from the river up the slope, and a little -camp was spread upon the crest of ground above them, looking down over -the uneven pattern of walls, the rising smoke, and the woods that -cradled the Esk. Such of Cumberland's soldiery as had collected in -Angus was drawn together here, and as the country was settling down, -the camp was increased by detachments of horse and foot that arrived -daily from various directions. The Muir of Pert was bare, left to the -company of the roe-deer and the birds, for James had been traced to -the coast, and the hungry North Sea had swallowed his tracks. - -The spot occupied by the tents of Callandar's troop was in the highest -corner of the camp, the one farthest from the town, and the long -northern light that lingered over the hill enveloped the camp sounds -and sights in a still, greenish clearness. There would be a bare few -hours of darkness. - -Callandar was now in command of a small force consisting of a troop of -his own regiment which had lately marched in, and two of his men stood -sentry outside the tent in which Archie Flemington was sitting at an -improvised table writing a letter. - -He had been a close prisoner since his arrest on the Muir of Pert, and -during the week that had elapsed, whilst correspondence about him and -orders concerning him had gone to and fro between Brechin and -Edinburgh, he had been exclusively under Callandar's charge. That -arrangement was the one concession made on his behalf among the many -that had been asked for by his friends. At his own request he was to -remain Callandar's prisoner till the end, and it was to be Callandar's -voice that would give the order for his release at sunrise to-morrow, -and Callandar's troopers whose hands would set him free. - -The two men had spent much time together. Though the officer's -responsibility did not include the necessity of seeing much of his -prisoner, he had chosen to spend nearly all his leisure in Archie's -tent. They had drawn very near together, this incongruous pair, though -the chasm that lay between their respective temperaments had not been -bridged by words. They had sat together on many evenings, almost in -silence, playing cards until one of them grew drowsy, or some -officious cock crowed on the outskirts of the town. Of the incident -which had brought them into their present relationship, they spoke not -at all; but sometimes Archie had broken out into snatches of talk, and -Callandar had listened, with his grim smile playing about his mouth, -to his descriptions of the men and things amongst which his short life -had thrown him. As he looked across at his companion, who sat, his -eyes sparkling in the light of the lantern, his expression changing -with the shades of humour that ran over his words, like shadows over -growing corn, he would be brought up short against the thought of the -terrible incongruity to come--death. He could not think of Archie and -death. At times he would have given a great deal to pass on his -responsibility to some other man, and to turn his back on the place -that was to witness such a tragedy. In furthering Archie's wishes by -his own application for custody of him he had given him a great proof -of friendship--how great he was only to learn as the days went by. -Would to God it were over--so he would say to himself each night as he -left the tent. He had thought Archie soft when they parted at the -cross-roads, and he had been sorry. There was no need for sorrow on -that score; never had been. The sorrow to him now was that so gallant, -so brilliant a creature was to be cut off from the life of the world, -to go down into the darkness, leaving so many of its inhabitants -half-hearted, half-spirited, half alive, to crawl on in an existence -which only interested them inasmuch as it supplied their common needs. - -His hostility against Logie ran above the level of the just antagonism -that a man feels for his country's enemy, and he questioned whether -his life were worth the price that Flemington was paying for it. The -hurried words that Archie had spoken about Logie as they left the -hovel together had told him little, and that little seemed to him -inadequate to explain the tremendous consequences that had followed. -What had Logie said or done that had power to turn him out of his way? -A man may meet many admirable characters among his enemies without -having his efforts paralyzed by the encounter. Flemington was not new -to his trade, and had been long enough in the secret service to know -its requirements. A certain unscrupulousness was necessarily among -them, yet why had his gorge only risen against it now? Callandar could -find no signs in him of the overwrought sensibility that seemed to -have prompted his revolt against his task. Logie had placed his safety -in Archie's hands, and it was in order to end that safety that the -young man had gone out; he had laid the trap and the quarry had fallen -into it. What else had he expected? It was not that Callandar could -not understand the scruple; what he could not understand was why a man -of Archie's occupation should suddenly be undone by it. Having -accepted his task, his duty had been plain. In theory, a rebel, to -Callandar was a rebel, no more, and Archie, by his deed, had played a -rebel's part; yet, in spite of that, the duty he must carry out on the -morrow was making his heart sink within him. One thing about Archie -stood out plain--he was not going to shirk his duty to his king and -yet take Government money. Whatsoever his doings, the prisoner who sat -in the tent over yonder would be lying under the earth to-morrow -because he was prepared to pay the last price for his scruple. No, he -was not soft. - -Callandar would have died sooner than let him escape, yet his escape -would have made him glad. - -Callandar came across the camp and passed between the two sentries -into Flemington's tent. The young man looked up from his writing. - -"You are busy," said the officer. - -"I have nearly done. There seems so much to do at the last," he added. - -The other sat down on the bed and looked at him, filled with grief. -The lantern stood by Archie's hand. His head was bent into the circle -of light, and the yellow shine that fell upon it warmed his olive skin -and brought out the brown shades in his brows and hair. The changing -curves of his mouth were firm in the intensity of his occupation. He -had so much expression as a rule that people seldom thought about his -features but Callandar now noticed his long chin and the fine lines of -his nostril. - -His pen scratched on for a few minutes; then he laid it down and -turned round. - -"You have done me many kindnesses, Callandar," said he, "and now I am -going to ask you for another--the greatest of all. It is everything to -me that Captain Logie should get this letter. He is safe, I hope, over -the water, but I do not know where. Will you take charge of it?" - -"I will," said the other--"yes." - -The very name of Logie went against him. - -"You will have to keep it some little time, I fear," continued Archie, -"but when the country has settled down you will be able to reach him -through Lord Balnillo. Promise me that, if you can compass it, he -shall get this." - -"If it is to be done, I will do it." - -"From you, that is enough," said Flemington, "I shall rest quietly." - -He turned to his writing again. - -Callandar sat still, looking round the tent vaguely for something to -distract his heavy thoughts. A card lay on the ground and he picked it -up. It was an ace, and the blank space of white round it was covered -with drawing. His own consideration had procured pens and books--all -that he could find to brighten the passing days for his prisoner. This -was the result of some impulse that had taken Flemington's artistic -fingers. - -It was a sketch of one of the sentries outside the tent door. The -figure was given in a few lines, dark against the light, and the -outline of the man's homely features had gained some quality of -suggestiveness and distinction by its passage through Archie's mind, -and by the way he had placed the head against the clouded atmosphere -made by the smoke rising from the camp. Through it, came a touched-in -vision of the horizon beyond the tents. He looked at it, seeing -something of its cleverness, and tossed it aside. - -When Archie had ended his letter, he read it through: - - -"When this comes to your hands perhaps you will know what has become -of me," he had written, "and you will understand the truth. I ask you -to believe me, if only because these are the last words I shall ever -write. A man speaks the truth when it is a matter of hours with him. - -"You know what brought me to Balnillo, but you do not know what sent -me from it. I went because I had no courage to stay. I was sent to -find out how deep you were concerned in the Stuart cause and to watch -your doings. I followed you that night in the town, and my wrist bears -the mark you set on it still. That morning I despatched my -confirmation of the Government's suspicions about you. Then I met you -and we sat by the Basin of Montrose. God knows I have never forgotten -the story you told me. - -"Logie, I went because I could not strike you again. You had been -struck too hard in the past, and I could not do it. What I told you -about myself was untrue, but you believed it, and would have helped -me. How could I go on? - -"Then, as I stood between the devil and the deep sea, my orders took -me to the _Venture_, and we met again on Inchbrayock. I had made sure -you would be on the hill. When I would have escaped from you, you held -me back, and as we struggled you knew me for what I was. - -"You know the rest as well as I do, and you know where I was in the -campaign that followed. Last of all I was sent out with those who were -to take you on the Muir of Pert. I had no choice but to go--the choice -came at the cross-roads below Huntly Hill. It was I who sent the -warning to you from the little house on the Muir. You had directed me -there for a different purpose. I sent no name with my message, knowing -that if I did you might suspect me of a trick to entrap you again. -That is all. There remained only the consequences, and I shall be face -to face with them to-morrow. - -"There is one thing more to say. Do not let yourself suppose that I am -paying for your life with mine. I might have escaped had I tried to do -so--it was my fault that I did not try. I had had enough of untruth, -and I could no longer take the king's money; I had served his cause -ill, and I could only pay for it. I have known two true men in my -life--you and the man who has promised that you shall receive this -letter. If you will think of me without bitterness, remember that I -should have been glad. - -"ARCHIBALD FLEMINGTON." - - -He folded the paper and rose, holding it out to Callandar. - -"I am contented," said he; "go now, Callandar. You look worn out. I -believe this last night is trying you more than it tries me." - - * * * * * - -It was some little time after daybreak that Callandar stood again at -the door of the tent under the kindling skies. Archie was waiting for -him and he came out. The eyes of the sentries never left them as they -went away together, followed by the small armed guard that was at -Callandar's heels. - -The two walked a little apart, and when they reached the outskirts of -the camp they came to a field, an insignificant rough enclosure, in -which half a dozen soldiers were gathered, waiting. At the sight of -Callandar the sergeant who was in charge of them began to form them in -a line some paces from the wall. - -Callandar and Flemington stopped. The light had grown clear, and the -smoke that was beginning to rise from the town thickened the air over -the roofs that could be seen from where they stood. The daily needs -and the daily avocations were beginning again for those below the -hill, while they were ceasing for ever for him who stood above in the -cool morning. In a few minutes the sun would get up; already there was -a sign of his coming in the eastward sky. - -The two men turned to each other; they had nothing more to say. They -had settled every detail of this last act of their short -companionship, so that there should be no hesitation, no mistake, -nothing to be a lengthening of agony for one, nor an evil memory for -the other. - -Archie held out his hand. - -"When I look at you," he said. - -"Yes," said Callandar. - -"There are no words, Callandar. Words are nothing--but the last bit of -my life has been the better for you." - -For once speech came quickly to the soldier. - -"The rest of mine will be the better for you," he answered. "You said -once that you were not a true man. You lied." - -Flemington was giving all to disprove the accusation of untruth, and -it was one of the last things he was to hear. - -So, with these rough words--more precious to him than any that could -have been spoken--sounding in his ears, he walked away and stood -before the wall. The men were lined in front of him. - -His eyes roved for a moment over the slope of the country, the town -roofs, the camp, then went to the distance. A solitary bird was -crossing the sky, and his look followed it as it had followed the one -he had seen when he made his choice at the foot of Huntly Hill. The -first had flown away, a vanishing speck, towards the shadows gathering -about the hills. This one was going into the sunrise. It was lost in -the light. . . . - -"Fire!" said Callandar. - -For Archie was looking at him with a smile. - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -EPILOGUE - -JAMES LOGIE stood at the window of a house in a Dutch town. The -pollarded beech, whose boughs were trimmed in a close screen before -the walls, had shed its golden leaves and the canal waters were grey -under a cloudy sky. The long room was rather dark, and was growing -darker. By the chair that he had left lay a yellow cur. - -He had been standing for some minutes reading a letter by the fading -light, and his back was towards the man who had brought it. The latter -stood watching him, stiff and tall, an object of suspicion to the dog. - -As he came to the end, the hand that held the paper went down to -James's side. The silence in the room was unbroken for a space. When -he turned, Callandar saw his powerful shoulders against the dusk and -the jealous shadows of the beech-tree's mutilated arms. - -"I can never thank you enough for bringing me this," said Logie. "My -debt to you is immeasurable." - -"I did it for him--not for you." - -Callandar spoke coldly, almost with antagonism. - -"I can understand that," said James. - -But something in his voice struck the other. Though he had moved as if -to leave him, he stopped, and going over to the window, drew a -playing-card from a pocket in his long coat. - -"Look," he said, holding out the ace scrawled with the picture of the -sentry. - -James took it, and as he looked at it, his crooked lip was set -stiffly, lest it should tremble. - -"It was in his tent when I went back there--afterwards," said -Callandar. - -He took the card back, and put it in his pocket. - -"Then it was you----" began James. - -"He was my prisoner, sir." - -James walked away again and stood at the window. - -Callandar waited, silent. - -"I must wish you a good-day, Captain Logie," he said at last, "I have -to leave Holland to-night." - -James followed him down the staircase, and they parted at the outer -door. Callandar went away along the street, and James came back slowly -up the steep stairs, his hand on the railing of the carved banisters. -He could scarcely see his way. - -The yellow dog came to meet him when he entered his room, and as his -master, still holding the letter, carried it again to the light, he -followed. Half-way across the floor he turned to sniff at an old -Kilmarnock bonnet that lay by the wainscot near the corner in which he -slept. - -He put his nose against it, and then looked at Logie. Trust was in his -eyes and affection; but there was inquiry, too. - -"My poor lad," said James, "we both remember." - - -THE END - -__________ -BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD - - - -Transcriber's Note - -This transcription is based on images posted by the HathiTrust Digital -Library from a copy made available by the New York Public Library and -digitized by Google: - - https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/100614266 - -The following changes were made to the printed text: - --- No attempt was made to reproduce the convention of using opening -quotation marks along the left margin when quoting a letter. See pp. -31-35, p. 107, and pp. 341-43. - --- p. 14: by the abrupt departure of his accuser,--Changed the comma -after "accuser" to a period. - --- p. 22: Where is your postillion?--Changed "postillion" to -"postilion" for consistency. - --- p. 32: But I am telling you only effects whenyou are wanting -causes.--Changed "whenyou" to "when you". - --- p. 40: The author's note defining "Tod," originally at the bottom -of the page, has been moved to the end of the chapter in the -html-based versions of this transcription or placed in square brackets -next to the word in the text version. - --- p. 52: The wall which bounded the great Balnillo -grassparks--Changed "grassparks" to "grass-parks" for consistency. - --- p. 60: who had been inces santly absent--Changed "inces santly", -which was split between lines without a hyphen, to "incessantly". - --- p. 94: for his throat had grown thick--Added a period after -"thick". - --- p. 97: I left the Scots' Brigade--Deleted the apostrophe after -"Scots" for consistency. - --- p. 104: the gallant background of the Scots' Brigade--Deleted the -apostrophe after "Scots" for consistency. - --- p. 104: the grave at Bergen op Zoom--Changed "Bergen op Zoom" to -"Bergen-op-Zoom" for consistency. - --- p. 145: I will give you the details of my report quickly.--Added a -closing quotation mark after "quickly." - --- p. 157: that overlooked the mass of shiping opposite -Ferryden.--Changed "shiping" to "shipping". - --- p. 175: was grapling with him so that he could not get his arm -free--Changed "grapling" to "grappling". - --- p. 190: The women were ruuning out of their houses too.--Changed -"ruuning" to "running". - --- p. 191: "There's fechtin!" . . . "Fechtin?" . . . "Ay, there's -fechtin . . ."--Added an apostrophe after "fechtin" for consistency. - --- p. 195: would make him no safer from Lord Balnillno.--Changed -"Balnillno" to "Balnillo". - --- p. 215: The author's notes defining "kyte" and "kaipit," originally -at the bottom of the page, have been moved to the end of the chapter -in the html-based versions of this transcription or placed in square -brackets next to the word in the text version. - --- p. 215: a' tell 't Maister Flemington the road to -Aberbrothock.--Deleted the space before the apostrophe in "tell 't" -for consistency. - --- p. 215: he tell 't me.--Deleted the space before the apostrophe in -"tell 't" for consistency. - --- p. 216: A' tell 't him wha 'd get him a passage to Leith--Deleted -the space before the apostrophe in "tell 't" for consistency. - --- p. 229: to begin the seaach for Flemington.--Changed "seaach" to -"search". - --- p. 231: another smaller appartment could be--Changed "appartment" -to "apartment". - --- p. 272: partial cultivation down to the Basin of Montrose--Added a -period after "Montrose". - --- p. 280: He had just began the ascent--Changed "began" to "begun". - --- p. 286: a've tell 't ye afore an' a'm telling ye again--Deleted the -space before the apostrophe in "tell 't" for consistency. - --- p. 288: on whicht he party had bivouacked--Changed "whicht he" to -"which the". - --- p. 291: he gave himt he slip of paper--Changed "himt he" to "him -the". - --- p. 297: what a heart there is the poor brute!--Inserted the word -"in" between "is" and "the". - --- p. 311: Callander listened, the lines of his long face -set.--Changed "Callander" to "Callandar" for consistency. - --- p. 311: You see, Callander, I have been true to nobody.--Changed -"Callander" to "Callandar" for consistency. - --- p. 325: the Duke of Cumberlaid is still in Edinburgh.--Changed -"Cumberlaid" to "Cumberland". - --- p. 327: he could see the dirty roofs of the Cannongate--Changed -"Cannongate" to "Canongate". - --- p. 336: it was to be Calandar's voice--Changed "Calandar's" to -"Callandar's". - --- p. 342: but you believed it, and would have helped me?--Changed the -question mark at the end of the sentence to a period. - --- p. 347: Callandar spoke coldly, almost with antagonism--Added a -period at the end of the sentence. - -Spellings deemed to be variants (e.g., "carring" and "East Nauk") were -retained. - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Flemington, by Violet Jacob - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLEMINGTON *** - -***** This file should be named 55361-8.txt or 55361-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/3/6/55361/ - -Produced by Paul Haxo with special thanks to the New York -Public Library, the HathiTrust Digital Library, and Google. - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. 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. - -Title: Flemington - -Author: Violet Jacob - -Release Date: August 15, 2017 [EBook #55361] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLEMINGTON *** - - - - -Produced by Paul Haxo with special thanks to the New York -Public Library, the HathiTrust Digital Library, and Google. - - - - - - -</pre> - -<div class="image"> -<p class="center"><img alt="Cover" src="images/cover.jpg" title="Cover" height="100%" -/></p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Front_matter"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-i"></a></span></p> - -<p class="half_title">FLEMINGTON</p> - -<div class="pagebreak"></div> - -<div id="Title_Page"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<p class="tp_title">FLEMINGTON</p> - -<p class="author">BY VIOLET JACOB</p> - -<p class="author_info">(<small>MRS</small>. <small>ARTHUR</small> <small>JACOB</small>)<br -/> - -<small>A<small>UTHOR</small> <small>OF</small> “T<small>HE</small> -I<small>NTERLOPER</small>,” “T<small>HE</small> -S<small>HEEP</small>-S<small>TEALERS</small>,” &c.</small></p> - -<p class="publisher">LONDON<br /> - -JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W.<br /> - -1911</p> -</div> - -<div class="pagebreak"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-v">[Pg v]</a></span></p> - -<p class="dedication" id="Dedication"><span class="smallfont">TO</span><br /> - <br /> -EVELYN FRANCES MUNRO</p> - -<div class="pagebreak"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<h3 class="author_note" id="Author_Note">AUTHOR’S NOTE</h3> - -<div class="author_note"> -<p class="noindent no_bottom">T<small>HIS</small> book has no claim to be considered an -historical novel, none of the principal people in it being historic characters; but the -taking of the ship, as also the manner of its accomplishment, is true.</p> - -<p class="author_sig">V. J.</p> -</div> - -<div class="pagebreak"></div> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> - -<div class="contents" id="contents"> -<h3 class="toc" id="contents_hdg">CONTENTS</h3> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" class="toc" summary="Table of Contents"> -<tbody> -<tr> -<td class="tdc no_bottom" colspan="4" id="Chapter100_toc"><a href="#Chapter100_hdg">BOOK -I</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdr no_bottom"><span class="reallysmall">CHAPTER </span></td> - -<td class="tdr no_bottom"> </td> - -<td class="tdr no_bottom"> </td> - -<td class="tdr no_bottom"><span class="reallysmall">PAGE</span></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>I.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter101_toc"><a -href="#Chapter101_hdg"><small>PROLOGUE</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>1</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>II.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter102_toc"><a -href="#Chapter102_hdg"><small>JETSAM</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>16</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>III.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter103_toc"><a href="#Chapter103_hdg"><small>A -COACH-AND-FIVE</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>30</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>IV.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter104_toc"><a -href="#Chapter104_hdg"><small>BUSINESS</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>46</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>V.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter105_toc"><a href="#Chapter105_hdg">“<small>THE HAPPY -LAND</small>”</a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>64</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>VI.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter106_toc"><a href="#Chapter106_hdg"><small>IN DARKNESS AND IN -LIGHT</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>72</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>VII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter107_toc"><a -href="#Chapter107_hdg"><small>TREACHERY</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>84</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>VIII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter108_toc"><a href="#Chapter108_hdg"><small>THE HEAVY -HAND</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>100</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>IX.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter109_toc"><a href="#Chapter109_hdg">“<small>TOUJOURS DE -L</small>’<small>AUDACE</small>”</a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>124</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc top1" colspan="4" id="Chapter200_toc"><a href="#Chapter200_hdg">BOOK -II</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>X.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter210_toc"><a -href="#Chapter210_hdg"><small>ADRIFT</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>135</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XI.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter211_toc"><a href="#Chapter211_hdg"><small>THE GUNS OF -MONTROSE</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>150</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter212_toc"><a -href="#Chapter212_hdg"><small>INCHBRAYOCK</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>161</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XIII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter213_toc"><a href="#Chapter213_hdg"><small>THE INTERESTED -SPECTATOR</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>177</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XIV.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter214_toc"><a href="#Chapter214_hdg"><small>IN SEARCH OF -SENSATION</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>185</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XV.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter215_toc"><a href="#Chapter215_hdg"><small>WATTIE HAS -THEORIES</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>200</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XVI.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter216_toc"><a href="#Chapter216_hdg"><small>THE TWO ENDS OF THE -LINE</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>212</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XVII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter217_toc"><a -href="#Chapter217_hdg"><small>SOCIETY</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>222</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XVIII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter218_toc"><a href="#Chapter218_hdg"><small>BALNILLO FINDS -PERFECTION</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>234</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdc top1" colspan="4" id="Chapter300_toc"><a href="#Chapter300_hdg">BOOK -III</a></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XIX.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter319_toc"><a href="#Chapter319_hdg"><small>THE -WINTER</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>251</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XX.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter320_toc"><a href="#Chapter320_hdg"><small>THE PARTING OF THE -WAYS</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>263</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XXI.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter321_toc"><a href="#Chapter321_hdg"><small>HUNTLY -HILL</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>280</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XXII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter322_toc"><a href="#Chapter322_hdg"><small>HUNTLY HILL -(<i>continued</i>)</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>288</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XXIII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter323_toc"><a href="#Chapter323_hdg"><small>THE MUIR OF -PERT</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>299</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XXIV.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter324_toc"><a href="#Chapter324_hdg"><small>THE VANITY OF -MEN</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>313</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XXV.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter325_toc"><a href="#Chapter325_hdg"><small>A ROYAL -DUKE</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>327</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XXVI.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter326_toc"><a href="#Chapter326_hdg"><small>THE VANISHING -BIRD</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>335</small></td> -</tr> - -<tr> -<td class="tdrch"><small>XXVII.</small></td> - -<td class="tdl" id="Chapter327_toc"><a -href="#Chapter327_hdg"><small>EPILOGUE</small></a></td> - -<td class="tdl"> </td> - -<td class="tdrpg"><small>346</small></td> -</tr> -</tbody> -</table> -</div> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter101"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Chapter100_hdg"><a href="#Chapter100_toc">BOOK I</a></h3> - -<div class="pagebreak"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<p class="title_chap1">FLEMINGTON</p> - -<h4 class="first" id="Chapter101_hdg"><a href="#Chapter101_toc">CHAPTER I<br /> -<span class="chap_title">PROLOGUE</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">M<small>R</small>. D<small>UTHIE</small> walked up the hill with the -gurgle of the burn he had just crossed purring in his ears. The road was narrow and muddy, -and the house of Ardguys, for which he was making, stood a little way in front of him, -looking across the dip threaded by the water. The tall white walls, discoloured by damp -and crowned by their steep roof, glimmered through the ash-trees on the bank at his right -hand. There was something distasteful to the reverend man’s decent mind in this homely -approach to the mansion inhabited by the lady he was on his way to visit, and he found the -remoteness of this byway among the grazing lands of Angus oppressive.</p> - -<p>The Kilpie burn, travelling to the river Isla, farther west, had pushed its way through -the undulations of pasture that gave this particular tract, lying north of the Sidlaws, a -definite character; and the formation of the land seemed <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-4">[Pg 4]</a></span>to suggest that some vast ground-swell had -taken place in the earth, to be arrested, suddenly, in its heaving, for all time. Thus it -was that a stranger, wandering about, might come unwarily upon little outlying farms and -cottages hidden in the trough of these terrestrial waves, and find himself, when he least -awaited it, with his feet on a level with some humble roof, snug in a fold of the braes. -It was in one of the largest of these miniature valleys that the house of Ardguys stood, -with the Kilpie burn running at the bottom of its sloping garden.</p> - -<p>Mr. Duthie was not a stranger, but he did not admire the unexpected; he disliked the -approach to Ardguys, for his sense of suitability was great; indeed, it was its greatness -which was driving him on his present errand. He had no gifts except the quality of -decency, which is a gift like any other; and he was apt, in the company of Madam -Flemington, to whose presence he was now hastening, to be made aware of the great -inconvenience of his shortcomings, and the still greater inconvenience of his advantage. -He crossed the piece of uneven turf dividing the house from the road, and ascended the -short flight of stone steps, a spare, black figure in a three-cornered hat, to knock with -no uncertain hand upon the door. His one great quality was staying him up.</p> - -<p>Like the rest of his compeers in the first half of the seventeen hundreds, Mr. Duthie -wore garments of rusty blue or grey during the week, <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-5">[Pg 5]</a></span>but for this occasion he had plunged his -ungainly arms and legs into the black which he generally kept for the Sabbath-day, though -the change gave him little distinction. He was a homely and very uncultured person; and -while the approaching middle of the century was bringing a marked improvement to country -ministers as a class, mentally and socially, he had stood still.</p> - -<p>He was ushered into a small panelled room in which he waited alone for a few minutes, -his hat on his knee. Then there was a movement outside, and a lady came in, whose -appearance let loose upon him all those devils of apprehension which had hovered about him -as he made his way from his manse to the chair on which he sat. He rose, stricken yet -resolute, with the cold forlorn courage which is the bravest thing in the world.</p> - -<p>As Madam Flemington entered, she took possession of the room to the exclusion of -everything else, and the minister felt as if he had no right to exist. Her eyes, meeting -his, reflected the idea.</p> - -<p>Christian Flemington carried with her that atmosphere which enwraps a woman who has -been much courted by men, and, though she was just over forty-two, and a grandmother, the -most inexperienced observer might know how strongly the fires of life were burning in her -still. An experienced one would be led to think of all kinds of disturbing subjects by her -mere presence; intrigue, love, power—a thousand abstract <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-6">[Pg 6]</a></span>yet stirring things, far, far remote from the -weather-beaten house which was the incongruous shell of this compelling personality. -Dignity was hers in an almost appalling degree, but it was a quality unlike the vulgar -conception of it; a dignity which could be all things besides distant; unscrupulous in its -uses, at times rather brutal, outspoken, even jovial; born of absolute fearlessness, and -conveying the certainty that its possessor would speak and act as she chose, because she -regarded encroachment as impossible and had the power of cutting the bridge between -herself and humanity at will. That power was hers to use and to abuse, and she was -accustomed to do both. In speech she could have a plain coarseness which has nothing to do -with vulgarity, and is, indeed, scarcely compatible with it; a coarseness which is -disappearing from the world in company with many better and worse things.</p> - -<p>She moved slowly, for she was a large woman and had never been an active one; but the -bold and steady brilliance of her eyes, which the years had not faded, suggested swift and -sudden action in a way that was disconcerting. She had the short, straight nose common to -feline types, and time, which had spared her eyes, was duplicating her chin. Her eyebrows, -even and black, accentuated the heavy silver of her abundant unpowdered hair, which had -turned colour early, and an immense ruby hung from each of her tiny ears in a setting of -small diamonds. Mr. Duthie, who noticed none of these things particularly, <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-7">[Pg 7]</a></span>was, nevertheless, crushed -by their general combination.</p> - -<p>It was nine years before this story opens that Christian Flemington had left France to -take up her abode on the small estate of Ardguys, which had been left to her by a distant -relation. Whilst still almost a child, she had married a man much older than herself, and -her whole wedded life had been spent at the Court of James II. of England at St. Germain, -whither her husband, a Scottish gentleman of good birth in the exiled King’s suite, had -followed his master, remaining after his death in attendance upon his widow, Mary Beatrice -of Modena.</p> - -<p>Flemington did not long survive the King. He left his wife with one son, who, on -reaching manhood, estranged himself from his mother by an undesirable marriage; indeed, it -was immediately after this latter event that Christian quitted her post at Court, retiring -to Rouen, where she lived until the possession of Ardguys, which she inherited a few -months later, gave her a home of her own.</p> - -<p>Different stories were afloat concerning her departure. Many people said that she had -gambled away the greater part of her small fortune and was forced to retrench in some -quiet place; others, that she had quarrelled with, and been dismissed by, Mary Beatrice. -Others, again, declared that she had been paid too much attention by the young Chevalier -de St. George and had found it discreet to take herself out of his <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-8">[Pg 8]</a></span>way; but the believers in -this last theory were laughed to scorn; not because the world saw anything strange in the -Chevalier’s alleged infatuation, but because it was quite sure that Christian Flemington -would have acted very differently in the circumstances. But no one could be certain of the -truth: the one certain thing was that she was gone and that since her retreat to Rouen she -had openly professed Whig sympathies. She had been settled at Ardguys, where she kept her -political leanings strictly to herself, for some little time, when news came that smallpox -had carried off her son and his undesirable wife, and, as a consequence, their little boy -was sent home to the care of his Whig grandmother, much against the will of those -Jacobites at the Court of St. Germain who were still interested in the family. But as -nobody’s objection was strong enough to affect his pocket, the child departed.</p> - -<p>‘Madam’ Flemington, as she was called by her few neighbours, was in correspondence with -none of her old friends, and none of these had the least idea what she felt about her loss -or about the prospect of the child’s arrival. She was his natural guardian, and, though so -many shook their heads at the notion of his being brought up by a rank Whig, no one was -prepared to relieve her of her responsibility. Only Mary Beatrice, mindful of the elder -Flemington’s faithful services to James, granted a small pension for the boy’s upbringing -from her meagre private purse; but as <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-9">[Pg 9]</a></span>this was refused by Christian, the matter ended. And now, in -the year of grace 1727, young Archie Flemington was a boy of eight, and the living cause -of the Rev. William Duthie’s present predicament.</p> - -<p>Madam Flemington and the minister sat opposite to each other, silent. He was evidently -trying to make a beginning of his business, but his companion was not in a mood to help -him. He was a person who wearied her, and she hated red hair; besides which, she was an -Episcopalian and out of sympathy with himself and his community. She found him common and -limited, and at the present moment, intrusive.</p> - -<p>“It’s sma’ pleasure I have in coming to Ardguys the day,” he began, and then stopped, -because her eyes paralyzed his tongue.</p> - -<p>“You are no flatterer,” said she.</p> - -<p>But the contempt in her voice braced him.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, that I am not, madam,” he replied; “neither shall it be said of me that I gang -back from my duty. Nane shall assail nor make a mock of the Kirk while I am its -minister.”</p> - -<p>“Who has made a mock of the Kirk, my good man?”</p> - -<p>“Airchie.”</p> - -<p>The vision of her eight-year-old grandson going forth, like a young David, to war -against the Presbyterian stronghold, brought back Madam Flemington’s good-humour.</p> - -<p>“Ye may smile, madam,” said Duthie, plunged deeper into the vernacular by agitation, -“ay, ye <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-10">[Pg 10]</a></span>may lauch. -But it ill beseems the grey hair on yer pow.”</p> - -<p>Irony always pleased her and she laughed outright, showing her strong white teeth. It -was not only Archie and the Kirk that amused her, but the whimsical turn of her own fate -which had made her hear such an argument from a man. It was not thus that men had -approached her in the old days.</p> - -<p>“You are no flatterer, Mr. Duthie, as I said before.”</p> - -<p>He looked at her with uncomprehending eyes.</p> - -<p>A shout, as of a boy playing outside, came through the window, and a bunch of cattle -upon the slope cantered by with their tails in the air. Evidently somebody was chasing -them.</p> - -<p>“Let me hear about Archie,” said the lady, recalled to the main point by the sight.</p> - -<p>“Madam, I would wish that ye could step west to the manse wi’ me and see the evil -abomination at my gate. It would gar ye blush.”</p> - -<p>“I am obliged to you, sir. I had not thought to be put to that necessity by one of your -cloth.”</p> - -<p>“Madam——”</p> - -<p>“Go on, Mr. Duthie. I can blush without going to the manse for it.”</p> - -<p>“An evil image has been set up upon my gate,” he continued, raising his voice as though -to cry down her levity, “an idolatrous picture. I think shame that the weans ganging by to -the schule should see it. But I rejoice that there’s mony o’ them doesna’ ken wha it -is.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Fie, Mr. Duthie! Is it Venus?”</p> - -<p>“It has idolatrous garments,” continued he, with the loud monotony of one shouting -against a tempest, “and a muckle crown on its head——”</p> - -<p>“Then it is not Venus,” observed she. “Venus goes stripped.”</p> - -<p>“It is the Pope of Rome,” went on Mr. Duthie; “I kent him when I saw the gaudy claes o’ -him and the heathen vanities on his pow. I kent it was himsel’! And it was written at the -foot o’ him, forbye that. Ay, madam, there was writing too. There was a muckle bag out -frae his mou’ wi’ wicked words on it! ‘Come awa’ to Babylon wi’ me, Mr. Duthie.’ I gar’d -the beadle run for water and a clout, for I could not thole that sic’ a thing should be -seen.”</p> - -<p>“And you left the Pope?” said Madam Flemington.</p> - -<p>“I did,” replied the minister. “I would wish to let ye see to whatlike misuse Airchie -has put his talents.”</p> - -<p>“And how do you know it was Archie’s work?”</p> - -<p>“There’s naebody hereabouts but Airchie could have made sic’ a thing. The beadle tell’t -me that he saw him sitting ahint the whins wi’ his box of paint as he gae’d down the manse -road, and syne when he came back the image was there.”</p> - -<p>As he finished his sentence the door opened and a small figure was arrested on the -threshold by the sight of him. The little boy paused, disconcerted and staring, and a -faint colour rose in his olive face. Then his glum look changed to a <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-12">[Pg 12]</a></span>smile in which roguery, -misgiving, and an intense malicious joy were blended. He looked from one to the other.</p> - -<p>“Archie, come in and make your reverence to Mr. Duthie,” said Madam Flemington, who had -all at once relapsed into punctiliousness.</p> - -<p>Archie obeyed. His skin and his dark eyes hinted at his mother’s French blood, but his -bow made it a certainty.</p> - -<p>The minister offered no acknowledgment.</p> - -<p>If Archie had any doubt about the reason of Mr. Duthie’s visit, it did not last long. -The minister was not a very stern man in daily life, but now the Pope and Madam Flemington -between them had goaded him off his normal peaceable path, and his expression bade the -little boy prepare for the inevitable. Archie reflected that his grandmother was a -disciplinarian, and his mind went to a cupboard in the attics where she kept a cane. But -the strain of childish philosophy which ran through his volatile nature was of a practical -kind, and it reminded him that he must pay for his pleasures, and that sometimes they were -worth the expense. Even in the grip of Nemesis he was not altogether sorry that he had -drawn that picture.</p> - -<p>Madam Flemington said nothing, and Mr. Duthie beckoned to him to come nearer.</p> - -<p>“Child,” said he, “you have put an affront upon the whole o’ the folk of this parish. -You have raised up an image to be a scandal to the passers-by. You have set up a notorious -thing in our <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-13">[Pg -13]</a></span>midst, and you have caused words to issue from its mouth that the very -kirk-officer, when he dichted it out wi’ his clout, thought shame to look upon. I have -jaloused it right to complain to your grandmother and to warn her, that she may check you -before you bring disgrace and dismay upon her and upon her house.”</p> - -<p>Archie’s eyes had grown rounder as he listened, for the pomp of the high-sounding words -impressed him with a sense of importance, and he was rather astonished to find that any -deed of his own could produce such an effect. He contemplated the minister with a curious -detachment that belonged to himself. Then he turned to look at his grandmother, and, -though her face betrayed no encouragement, the subtle smile he had worn when he stood at -the door appeared for a moment upon his lips.</p> - -<p>Mr. Duthie saw it. Madam Flemington had not urged one word in defence of the culprit, -but, rightly or wrongly, he scented lack of sympathy with his errand. He turned upon -her.</p> - -<p>“I charge you—nay, I demand it of you,” he exclaimed—“that you root out the evil in yon -bairn’s nature! Tak’ awa’ from him the foolish toy that he has put to sic’ a vile use. I -will require of you——”</p> - -<p>“Sir,” said Madam Flemington, rising, “I have need of nobody to teach me how to correct -my grandson. I am obliged to you for your visit, but I will not detain you longer.”</p> - -<p>And almost before he realized what had happened, <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-14">[Pg 14]</a></span>Mr. Duthie found himself once more upon the -stone steps of Ardguys.</p> - -<p>Archie and his grandmother were left together in the panelled room. Perhaps the boy’s -hopes were raised by the abrupt departure of his accuser. He glanced tentatively at -her.</p> - -<p>“You will not take away my box?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Duthie has a face like this,” he said airily, drawing his small features into a -really brilliant imitation of the minister.</p> - -<p>The answer was hardly what he expected.</p> - -<p>“Go up to the cupboard and fetch me the cane,” said Madam Flemington.</p> - -<p>It was a short time later when Archie, rather sore, but still comforted by his -philosophy, sat among the boughs of a tree farther up the hill. It was a favourite spot of -his, for he could look down through the light foliage over the roof of Ardguys and the -Kilpie burn to the rough road ascending beyond them. The figure of the retreating Mr. -Duthie had almost reached the top and was about to be lost in the whin-patch across the -strath. The little boy’s eyes followed him between the yellowing leaves of the tree which -autumn was turning into the clear-tinted ghost of itself. He had not escaped justice, and -the marks of tears were on his face; but they were not rancorous tears, whose traces live -in the heart long after the outward sign of their fall has gone. They were tears forced -from him by passing stress, and their sources were shallow. <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-15">[Pg 15]</a></span>Madam Flemington could deal out punishment -thoroughly, but she was not one of those who burn its raw wounds with sour words, and her -grandson had not that woeful sense of estrangement which is the lot of many children when -disciplined by those they love. Archie adored his grandmother, and the gap of years -between them was bridged for him by his instinctive and deep admiration. She was no -companion to him, but she was a deity, and he had never dreamed of investing her with -those dull attributes which the young will tack on to those who are much their seniors, -whether they possess them or not. Mr. Duthie, who had just reached middle life, seemed a -much older person to Archie.</p> - -<p>He felt in his pocket for the dilapidated box which held his chief treasures—those -dirty lumps of paint with which he could do such surprising things. No, there was not very -much black left, and he must contrive to get some more, for the adornment of the other -manse gatepost was in his mind. He would need a great deal of black, because this time his -subject would be the devil; and there should be the same—or very nearly the -same—invitation to the minister.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter102"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter102_hdg"><a href="#Chapter102_toc">CHAPTER II<br /> -<span class="chap_title">JETSAM</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">E<small>IGHTEEN</small> years after the last vestige of Archie’s -handiwork had vanished under the beadle’s ‘clout’ two gentlemen were sitting in the -library of a square stone mansion at the eastern end of the county of Angus. It was -evening, and they had drawn their chairs up to a fireplace in which the flames danced -between great hobs of polished brass, shooting the light from their thrusting tongues into -a lofty room with drawn curtains and shelves of leather-bound books. Though the shutters -were closed, the two men could hear, in the pauses of talk, a continuous distant roaring, -which was the sound of surf breaking upon the bar outside the harbour of Montrose, three -miles away. A small mahogany table with glasses and a decanter stood at Lord Balnillo’s -elbow, and he looked across at his brother James (whose life, as a soldier, had kept him -much in foreign countries until the previous year) with an expression of mingled good-will -and patronage.</p> - -<p>David Logie was one of the many Scottish<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-17">[Pg 17]</a></span> gentlemen of good birth who had made the law his -profession, and he had just retired from the Edinburgh bench, on which, as Lord Balnillo, -he had sat for hard upon a quarter of a century. His face was fresh-coloured and healthy, -and, though he had not put on so much flesh as a man of sedentary ways who has reached the -age of sixty-two might expect to carry, his main reason for retiring had been the long -journeys on horseback over frightful roads, which a judge’s duties forced him to take. -Another reason was his estate of Balnillo, which was far enough from Edinburgh to make -personal attention to it impossible. His wife Margaret, whose portrait hung in the -dining-room, had done all the business for many years; but Margaret was dead, and perhaps -David, who had been a devoted husband, felt the need of something besides the law to fill -up his life. He was a lonely man, for he had no children, and his brother James, who sat -opposite to him, was his junior by twenty-five years. For one who had attained to his -position, he was slow and curiously dependent on others; there was a turn about the lines -of his countenance which suggested fretfulness, and his eyes, which had looked upon so -many criminals, could be anxious. He was a considerate landlord, and, in spite of the -times in which he lived and the bottle at his elbow, a person of very sober habits.</p> - -<p>James Logie, who had started his career in Lord Orkney’s regiment of foot with the -Scots<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-18">[Pg 18]</a></span> Brigade in -Holland, had the same fresh complexion as his brother and the same dark blue eyes; but -they were eyes that had a different expression, and that seemed to see one thing at a -time. He was a squarer, shorter man than Lord Balnillo, quicker of speech and movement. -His mouth was a little crooked, for the centre of his lower lip did not come exactly under -the centre of the upper one, and this slight mistake on the part of Nature had given his -face a not unpleasant look of virility. Most people who passed James gave him a second -glance. Both men were carefully dressed and wore fine cambric cravats and laced coats; and -the shoes of the judge, which rested on the fender, were adorned by gilt buckles.</p> - -<p>They had been silent for some time, as people are who have come to the same conclusion -and find that there is no more to say, and in the quietness the heavy undercurrent of -sound from the coast seemed to grow more insistent.</p> - -<p>“The bar is very loud to-night, Jamie,” said Lord Balnillo. “I doubt but there’s bad -weather coming, and I am loth to lose more trees.”</p> - -<p>“I see that the old beech by the stables wants a limb,” observed the other. “That’s the -only change about the place that I notice.”</p> - -<p>“There’ll be more yet,” said the judge.</p> - -<p>“You’ve grown weather-wise since you left Edinburgh, David.”</p> - -<p>“I had other matters to think upon there,” answered Balnillo, with some pomp.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> - -<p>James smiled faintly, making the little twist in his lip more apparent.</p> - -<p>“Come out to the steps and look at the night,” said he, snatching, like most restless -men, at the chance of movement.</p> - -<p>They went out through the hall. James unbarred the front door and the two stood at the -top of the flight of stone steps.</p> - -<p>The entrance to Balnillo House faced northward, and a wet wind from the east, slight -still, but rising, struck upon their right cheeks and carried the heavy muffled booming in -through the trees. Balnillo looked frowning at their tops, which had begun to sway; but -his brother’s attention was fixed upon a man’s figure, which was emerging from the -darkness of the grass park in front of them.</p> - -<p>“Who is that?” cried the judge, as the footsteps grew audible.</p> - -<p>“It’s a coach at the ford, ma lord—a muckle coach that’s couped i’ the water! Wully an’ -Tam an’ Andrew Robieson are seekin’ to ca’ it oot, but it’s fast, ma lord——”</p> - -<p>“Is there anyone in it?” interrupted James.</p> - -<p>“Ay, there was. But he’s oot noo.”</p> - -<p>“Where is he?”</p> - -<p>“He’ll na’ get forward the night,” continued the man. “Ane of the horse is lame. He -cursin’, ma lord, an’ nae wonder—he can curse bonnie! Robieson’s got his wee laddie wi’ -him, and he gar’d the loonie put his hands to his lugs. He’s an elder, ye see.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> - -<p>The judge turned to his brother. It was not the first time that the ford in the Den of -Balnillo had been the scene of disaster, for there was an unlucky hole in it, and the -state of the roads made storm-bound and bedraggled visitors common apparitions in the -lives of country gentlemen.</p> - -<p>“If ye’ll come wi’ me, ma lord, ye’ll hear him,” said the labourer, to whom the profane -victim of the ford was evidently an object of admiration.</p> - -<p>Balnillo looked down at his silk stockings and buckled shoes.</p> - -<p>“I should be telling the lasses to get a bed ready,” he remarked hurriedly, as he -re-entered the house.</p> - -<p>James was already throwing his leg across the fence, though it was scarcely the cursing -which attracted him, for he had heard oaths to suit every taste in his time. He hurried -across the grass after the labourer. The night was not very dark, and they made straight -for the ford.</p> - -<p>The Den of Balnillo ran from north to south, not a quarter of a mile from the house, -and the long chain of miry hollows and cart-ruts which did duty for a high road from Perth -to Aberdeen plunged through it at the point for which the men were heading. It was a steep -ravine filled with trees and stones, through which the Balnillo burn flowed and fell and -scrambled at different levels on its way to join the Basin of Montrose, as the great -estuary of the river Esk was called. The ford lay just above one of the falls by which the -water leaped downwards, and the dense darkness <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-21">[Pg 21]</a></span>of the surrounding trees made it difficult for Captain -Logie to see what was happening as he descended into the black well of the Den. He could -distinguish a confusion of objects by the light of the lantern which his brother’s men had -brought and set upon a stone; the ford itself reflected nothing, for it was churned up -into a sea of mud, in which, as Logie approached, the outline of a good-sized carriage, -lying upon its side, became visible.</p> - -<p>“Yonder’s the captain coming,” said a voice.</p> - -<p>Someone lifted the lantern, and he found himself confronted by a tall young man, whose -features he could not see, but who was, no doubt, the expert in language.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” he said, “I fear you have had a bad accident. I am come from Lord Balnillo to -find out what he can do for you.”</p> - -<p>“His lordship is mighty good,” replied the young man, “and if he could force this -mud-hole—which, I am told, belongs to him—to yield up my conveyance, I should be his -servant for life.”</p> - -<p>There was a charm and softness in his voice which nullified the brisk impertinence of -his words.</p> - -<p>“I hope you are not hurt,” said James.</p> - -<p>“Not at all, sir. Providence has spared me. But He has had no mercy upon one of my poor -nags, which has broken its knees, nor on my stock-in-trade, which is in the water. I am a -travelling painter,” he added quickly, “and had best introduce myself. My name is -Archibald Flemington.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> - -<p>The stranger had a difficulty in pronouncing his <i>r</i>’<i>s</i>; he spoke them like -a Frenchman, with a purring roll.</p> - -<p>The other was rather taken aback. Painters in those days had not the standing in -society that they have now, but the voice and manner were unmistakably those of a man of -breeding. Even his freedom was not the upstart licence of one trying to assert himself, -but the easy expression of a roving imagination.</p> - -<p>“I should introduce myself too,” said Logie. “I am Captain James Logie, Lord Balnillo’s -brother. But we must rescue your—your—baggage. Where is your postilion?”</p> - -<p>Flemington held up the lantern again, and its rays fell upon a man holding the two -horses which were standing together under a tree. James went towards them.</p> - -<p>“Poor beast,” said he, as he saw the knees of one of the pair, “he would be better in a -stall. Andrew Robieson, send your boy to the house for a light, and then you can guide -them to the stables.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the two other men had almost succeeded in getting the carriage once more -upon its wheels, and with the help of Flemington and Logie, it was soon righted. They -decided to leave it where it was for the night, and it was dragged a little aside, lest it -should prove a pitfall to any chance traveller who might pass before morning.</p> - -<p>The two gentlemen went towards the house together, and the men followed, carring -Flemington’s <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-23">[Pg -23]</a></span>possessions and the great square package containing his canvases.</p> - -<p>When they entered the library Lord Balnillo was standing with his back to the fire.</p> - -<p>“I have brought Mr. Flemington, brother,” said Logie, “his coach has come to grief in -the Den.”</p> - -<p>Archie stopped short, and putting his heels together, made much the same bow as he had -made to Mr. Duthie eighteen years before.</p> - -<p>A feeling of admiration went through James as the warm light of the house revealed the -person of his companion, and something in the shrewd wrinkles round his brother’s -unimpressive eyes irritated him. He felt a vivid interest in the stranger, and the -cautious old man’s demeanour seemed to have raised the atmosphere of a law-court round -himself. He was surveying the new-comer with stiff urbanity.</p> - -<p>But Archie made small account of it.</p> - -<p>“Sir,” said Balnillo, with condescension, “if you will oblige me by making yourself at -home until you can continue your road, I shall take myself for fortunate.”</p> - -<p>“My lord,” replied Archie, “if you knew how like heaven this house appears to me after -the bottomless pit in your den, you might take yourself for the Almighty.”</p> - -<p>Balnillo gave his guest a critical look, and was met by all the soft darkness of a pair -of liquid brown eyes which drooped at the outer corners, and were set under thick brows -following their downward lines. Gentleness, inquiry, appeal, <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-24">[Pg 24]</a></span>were in them, and a quality which the -judge, like other observers, could not define—a quality that sat far, far back from the -surface. In spite of the eyes, there was no suggestion of weakness in the slight young -man, and his long chin gave his olive face gravity. Speech and looks corresponded so -little in him that Balnillo was bewildered; but he was a hospitable man, and he moved -aside to make room for Archie on the hearth. The latter was a sorry sight, as far as mud -went; for his coat was splashed, and his legs, from the knee down, were of the colour of -clay. He held his hands out to the blaze, stretching his fingers as a cat stretches her -claws under a caressing touch.</p> - -<p>“Sit down and put your feet to the fire,” said the judge, drawing forward one of the -large armchairs, “and James, do you call for another glass. When did you dine, Mr. -Flemington?”</p> - -<p>“I did not dine at all, my lord. I was anxious to push on to Montrose, and I pushed on -to destruction instead.”</p> - -<p>He looked up with such a whimsical smile at his own mishaps that Balnillo found his -mouth widening in sympathy.</p> - -<p>“I will go and tell them to make some food ready,” said the captain, in answer to a -sign from his brother.</p> - -<p>Balnillo stood contemplating the young man; the lines round his eyes were relaxing a -little; he was fundamentally inquisitive, and his companion matched no type he had ever -seen. He was a <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-25">[Pg -25]</a></span>little disturbed by his assurance, yet his instinct of patronage was tickled -by the situation.</p> - -<p>“I am infinitely grateful to you,” said Archie. “I know all the inns in Brechin, and am -very sensible how much better I am likely to dine here than there. You are too kind.”</p> - -<p>“Then you know these parts?”</p> - -<p>“My home is at the other end of the county—at Ardguys.”</p> - -<p>“I am familiar with the name,” said Balnillo, “but until lately, I have been so much in -Edinburgh that I am out of touch with other places. I am not even aware to whom it -belongs.”</p> - -<p>“It is a little property, my lord—nothing but a few fields and a battered old house. -But it belongs to my grandmother Flemington, who brought me up. She lives very -quietly.”</p> - -<p>“Indeed, indeed,” said the judge, his mind making a cast for a clue as a hound does for -the scent.</p> - -<p>He was not successful.</p> - -<p>“I had not taken you for a Scot,” he said, after a moment.</p> - -<p>“I have been told that,” said Archie; “and that reminds me that it would be proper to -tell your lordship what I am. I am a painter, and at this moment your hall is full of my -paraphernalia.”</p> - -<p>Lord Balnillo did not usually show his feelings, but the look which, in spite of -himself, flitted across his face, sent a gleam of entertainment through Archie.</p> - -<p>“You are surprised,” he observed, sighing. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-26">[Pg 26]</a></span>“But when a man has to mend his fortunes he must mend them -with what tools he can. Nor am I ashamed of my trade.”</p> - -<p>“There is no need, Mr. Flemington,” replied the other, with the measured benevolence he -had sometimes used upon the bench; “what you tell me does you honour—much honour, -sir.”</p> - -<p>“Then you did not take me for a painter any more than for a Scot?” said Archie, smiling -at his host.</p> - -<p>“I did not, sir,” said the judge shortly. He was not accustomed to be questioned by his -witnesses and he had the uncomfortable sensation of being impelled, in spite of a certain -prejudice, to think moderately well of his guest.</p> - -<p>“I have heard tell of your lordship very often,” said the latter, suddenly, “and I know -very well into what good hands I have fallen. I could wish that all the world was more -like yourself.”</p> - -<p>He turned his head and stared wistfully at the coals.</p> - -<p>Balnillo could not make out whether this young fellow’s assurance or his humility was -the real key-note to the man. But he liked some of his sentiments well enough. Archie wore -his own hair, and the old man noticed how silky and fine the brown waves were in the -firelight. They were so near his hand as their owner leaned forward that he could almost -have stroked them.</p> - -<p>“Are you going further than Montrose?” he inquired.</p> - -<p>“I had hoped to cozen a little employment out of <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-27">[Pg 27]</a></span>Aberdeen,” replied Flemington, “but it is a -mere speculation. I have a gallery of the most attractive canvases with me—women, divines, -children, magistrates, provosts—all headless and all waiting to see what faces chance and -I may fit on to their necks. I have one lady—an angel, I assure you, my lord!—a vision of -green silk and white roses—shoulders like satin—the hands of Venus!”</p> - -<p>Balnillo was further bewildered. He knew little about the arts and nothing about -artists. He had looked at many a contemporary portrait without suspecting that the -original had chosen, as sitters often did, an agreeable ready-made figure from a selection -brought forward by a painter, on which to display his or her countenance. It was a custom -which saved the trouble of many sittings and rectified much of the niggardliness or -over-generosity of Nature.</p> - -<p>“I puzzle you, I see,” added Archie, laughing, “and no doubt the hair of Van Dyck would -stand on end at some of our modern doings. But I am not Van Dyck, unhappily, and in common -with some others I do half my business before my sitters ever see me. A client has only to -choose a suitable body for his own head, and I can tell you that many are thankful to have -the opportunity.”</p> - -<p>“I had no idea that portraits were done like that,” said Lord Balnillo; “I never heard -of such an arrangement before.”</p> - -<p>“But you do not think it wrong, I hope?” exclaimed Flemington, the gaiety dying out of -his <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-28">[Pg 28]</a></span>face. “There -is no fraud about it! It is not as if a man deceived his sitter.”</p> - -<p>The half-petulant distress in his voice struck Balnillo, and almost touched him; there -was something so simple and confiding in it.</p> - -<p>“It might have entertained your lordship to see them,” continued Archie ruefully. “I -should have liked to show you the strange company I travel with.”</p> - -<p>“So you shall, Mr. Flemington,” said the old man. “It would entertain me very greatly. -I only fear that the lady with the white roses may enslave me,” he added, with rather -obvious jocosity.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, now is the time for that,” replied Archie, his face lighting up again, “for I -hope she may soon wear the head of some fat town councillor’s wife of Aberdeen.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke Captain Logie returned with the news that dinner was prepared.</p> - -<p>“I have been out to the stable to see what we could do for your horses,” said he.</p> - -<p>“Thank you a thousand times, sir,” exclaimed Archie.</p> - -<p>Lord Balnillo watched his brother as he led the painter to the door.</p> - -<p>“I think I will come, too, and sit with Mr. Flemington while he eats,” he said, after a -moment’s hesitation.</p> - -<p>A couple of hours later Archie found himself in a comfortable bedroom. His valise had -been soaked in the ford, and a nightshirt of Lord <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-29">[Pg 29]</a></span>Balnillo’s was warming at the fire. When he had put it on -he went and looked at himself in an old-fashioned mirror which hung on the wall. He was a -good deal taller than the judge, but it was not his own image that caused the -indescribable expression on his face.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter103"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter103_hdg"><a href="#Chapter103_toc">CHAPTER III<br /> -<span class="chap_title">A COACH-AND-FIVE</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">A<small>RCHIE</small> sat in his bedroom at a table. The window was -open, for it was a soft October afternoon, and he looked out meditatively at the prospect -before him.</p> - -<p>The wind that had howled in the night had spent itself towards morning, and by midday -the tormented sky had cleared and the curtain of cloud rolled away, leaving a mellow sun -smiling over the Basin of Montrose. He had never been within some miles of Balnillo, and -the aspect of this piece of the country being new to him, his painter’s eye rested -appreciatively on what he saw.</p> - -<p>Two avenues of ancient trees ran southward, one on either side of the house, and a -succession of grass fields sloped away before him between these bands of timber to the -tidal estuary, where the water lay blue and quiet with the ribbon of the South Esk winding -into it from the west. Beyond it the low hills with their gentle rise touched the horizon; -nearer at hand the beeches and gean-trees, so dear to Lord Balnillo’s heart, were red and -gold. Here and there, where the <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-31">[Pg -31]</a></span>gale had thinned the leaves, the bareness of stem and bough let in glimpses -of the distant purple which was the veil of the farther atmosphere. To the east, shut out -from his sight by all this wood, was the town of Montrose, set, with its pointed steeple, -like the blue silhouette of some Dutch town, between the Basin and the North Sea.</p> - -<p>A pen was in Flemington’s hand, and the very long letter he had just written was before -him.</p> - -<div class="letter"> - -<p class="address">“B<small>ALNILLO</small> H<small>OUSE</small>.</p> - -<p class="salutation">“M<small>ADAM</small>, <small>MY</small> <small>DEAR</small> -G<small>RANDMOTHER</small>,</p> - -<p class="letter_first_para">“I beg you to look upon the address at the head of this -letter, and to judge whether fortune has favoured your devoted grandson.</p> - -<p>“I am <i>on the very spot</i>, and, what is more, seem like to remain there -indefinitely. Could anything in this untoward world have fallen out better? Montrose is a -bare three miles from where I sit, and I can betake myself there on business when -necessary, while I live as secluded as I please, cheek by jowl with the very persons whose -acquaintance I had laid so many plots to compass. My dear grandmother, could you but have -seen me last night, when I lay down after my labours, tricked out in my worshipful host’s -nightshirt! Though the honest man is something of a fop in his attire, his arms are not so -long as mine, and the fine ruffles on the sleeves did little more than adorn my elbows, -which made me feel like a lady till I looked at my skirts. Then I felt more like a -highlandman. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-32">[Pg 32]</a></span>But I -am telling you only effects when you are wanting causes.</p> - -<p>“I changed horses at Brechin, having got so far in safety just after dark, and went on -towards Montrose, with the wind rising and never a star to look comfort at me through the -coach window. Though I knew we must be on the right road, I asked my way at every hovel we -passed, and was much interested when I was told that I was at the edge of my Lord -Balnillo’s estate, and not far from his house.</p> - -<p>“The road soon afterwards took a plunge into the very vilest place I ever saw—a steep -way scarcely fit for a cattle-road, between a mass of trees. I put out my head and heard -the rushing of water. Oh, what a fine thing memory is! I remembered having heard of the -Den of Balnillo and being told that it was near Balnillo house, and I judged we must be -there. Another minute and we were clattering among stones; the water was up to the axle -and we rocked like a ship. One wheel was higher than the other, and we leaned over so that -I could scarcely sit. Then I was inspired. I threw myself with all my weight against the -side, and dragged so much of my cargo of canvases as I could lay hold of with me. There -was a great splash and over we went. It was mighty hard work getting out, for the devil -caused the door to stick fast, and I had to crawl through the window at that side of the -coach which was turned to the sky, like a roof. I hope I may never be colder. We <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-33">[Pg 33]</a></span>turned to and got the -horses out and on to dry ground, and the postilion, a very frog for slime and mud, began -to shout, which soon produced a couple of men with a lantern. I shouted too, and did my -poor best in the way of oaths to give the affair all the colour of reality I could, and I -believe I was successful. The noise brought more people about us, and with them my lord’s -brother, Captain Logie, hurrying to the rescue with a fellow who had run to the house with -news of our trouble. The result was that we ended our night, the coach with a cracked axle -and a hole in the panel, the postilion in the servants’ hall with half a bottle of good -Scots whisky inside him, the horses—one with a broken knee—in the stable, and myself, as I -tell you, in his lordship’s nightshirt.</p> - -<p>“I promise you that I thought myself happy when I got inside the mansion—a solemn -block, with a grand manner of its own and Corinthian pillars in the dining-room. His -lordship was on the hearthrug, as solemn as his house, but with a pinched, precise look -which it has not got. He was no easy nut to crack, and it took me a little time to -establish myself with him, but the good James, his brother, left us a little while alone, -and I made all the way I could in his favour. I may have trouble with the old man, and, at -any rate, must be always at my best with him, for he seems to me to be silly, virtuous and -cunning all at once. He is vain, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-34">[Pg -34]</a></span>too, and suspicious, and has seen so many wicked people in his judicial -career that I must not let him confound me with them. I could see that he had difficulty -in making my occupation and appearance match to his satisfaction. He wears a -mouse-coloured velvet coat, and is very nice in the details of his dress. I should like -you to see him—not because he would amuse you, but because it would entertain me so -completely to see you together.</p> - -<p>“James, his brother, is cut to a very different pattern. He is many years younger than -his lordship—not a dozen years older than myself, I imagine—and he has spent much of his -life with Lord Orkney’s regiment in Holland. There is something mighty attractive in his -face, though I cannot make out what it is. It is strange that, though he seems to be a -much simpler person than the old man, I feel less able to describe him. I have had much -talk with him this morning, and I don’t know when I have liked anyone better.</p> - -<p class="letter_last_para">“And now comes the triumph of well-doing—the climax to which -all this faithful record leads. I am to paint his lordship’s portrait (in his Judge’s -robes), and am installed here definitely for that purpose! I shall be grateful if you will -send me my chestnut-brown suit and a couple of fine shirts, also the silk stockings which -are in the top shelf of my cupboard, and all you can lay hands on in the matter of -cravats. My valise was soaked through and through, and, <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-35">[Pg 35]</a></span>though the clothes I am wearing were dried -in the night, I am rather short of good coats, for I expected to end in an inn at Montrose -rather than in a gentleman’s house. Though I am within reach of Ardguys, and might ride to -fetch them in person, I do not want to be absent unnecessarily. Any <i>important</i> -letters that I may send you will go by a hand I know of. I shall go shortly to Montrose by -way of procuring myself some small necessity, and shall search for that hand. Its owner -should not be difficult to recognize, by all accounts. And now, my dear grandmother, I -shall write myself</p> - -<p class="closing">“Your dutiful and devoted grandson,</p> - -<p class="signature">“A<small>RCHIBALD</small> F<small>LEMINGTON</small>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>Archie sealed his letter, and then rose and leaned far out of the window. The sun still -bathed the land, but it was getting low; the tree-tops were thrusting their heads into a -light which had already left the grass-parks slanting away from the house. The latter part -of his morning had been taken up by his host’s slow inspection of his canvases, and he -longed for a sight of his surroundings. He knew that the brothers had gone out together, -and he took his hat and stood irresolute, with his letter in his hand, before a -humble-looking little locked case, which he had himself rescued the night before from -among his submerged belongings in the coach, hesitating whether he should commit the paper -to it or keep it upon his own person. It seemed to be a matter <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-36">[Pg 36]</a></span>for some consideration. Finally, he put it -into his pocket and went out.</p> - -<p>He set forth down one of the avenues, walking on a gorgeous carpet of fallen leaves, -and came out on a road running east and west, evidently another connecting Brechin with -Montrose. He smiled as he considered it, realizing that, had he taken it last night, he -would have escaped the Den of Balnillo and many more desirable things at the same -time.</p> - -<p>As he stood looking up and down, he heard a liquid rush, and saw to his right a -mill-dam glimmering through the trees, evidently the goal of the waters which had soused -him so lately. He strolled towards it, attracted by the forest of stems and golden foliage -reflected in the pool, and by the slide down which the stream poured into a field, to -wind, like a little serpent, through the grass. Just where it disappeared stood a stone -mill-house abutting on the highway, from which came the clacking of a wheel. The miller -was at his door. Archie could see that he was watching something with interest, for the -man stood out, a distinct white figure, on the steps running up from the road to the -gaping doorway in the mill-wall.</p> - -<p>Flemington was one of those blessed people for whom common sights do not glide by, a -mere meaningless procession of alien things. Humanity’s smallest actions had an interest -for him, for he had that love of seeing effect follow cause, which is at once priceless -and childish—priceless <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-37">[Pg -37]</a></span>because anything that lifts from us the irritating burden of ourselves for -so much as a moment is priceless; and childish because it is a survival of the years when -all the universe was new. Priceless yet again, because it will often lead us down -unexpected side-tracks of knowledge in a world in which knowledge is power.</p> - -<p>He sat down on the low wall bounding the mill-field, for he was determined to know what -the miller was staring at. Whatever it was, it was on the farther side of a cottage built -just across the road from the mill.</p> - -<p>He was suddenly conscious that a bare-footed little girl with tow-coloured hair had -appeared from nowhere, and was standing beside him. She also was staring at the house by -the mill, but with occasional furtive glances at himself. All at once the heavy drone of a -bagpipe came towards them, then the shrill notes of the chanter began to meander up and -down on the blare of sonorous sound like a light pattern running over a dark background. -The little girl removed her eyes from the stranger and cut a caper with her bare feet, as -though she would like to dance.</p> - -<p>It was evident that the sounds had affected Flemington, too, but not in the same way. -He made a sharp exclamation under his breath, and turned to the child.</p> - -<p>“Who is that playing?” he cried, putting out his hand.</p> - -<p>She jumped back and stood staring.</p> - -<p>“Who is that playing?” he repeated.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> - -<p>She was still dumb, scrubbing one foot against her bare ankle after the manner of the -shoeless when embarrassed.</p> - -<p>Archie was exasperated. He rose, without further noticing the child, and hurried -towards the mill. When he had reached the place where the stream dived through a stone -arch under the road he found she was following him. He heard the pad, pad, of her naked -soles in the mud.</p> - -<p>All at once she was moved to answer his question.</p> - -<p>“Yon’s Skirlin’ Wattie!” she yelled after him.</p> - -<p>But he strode on, taking no notice; fortune was playing into his hand so wonderfully -that he was ceasing to be surprised.</p> - -<p>In the little yard of the cottage he found a small crowd of children, two women, and -the miller’s man, collected round the strangest assortment of living creatures he had ever -seen. The name ‘Skirlin’ Wattie’ had conveyed something to him, and he was prepared for -the extraordinary, but his breath was almost taken away by the oddness of what he saw.</p> - -<p>In the middle of the group was a stout wooden box, which, mounted on very low wheels, -was transformed into the likeness of a rough go-cart, and to this were yoked five dogs of -differing breeds and sizes. A half-bred mastiff in the wheel of the team was taking -advantage of the halt and lay dozing, his jowl on his paws, undisturbed by the blast of -sound which poured over his head, whilst his companion, a large, smooth-haired <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-39">[Pg 39]</a></span>yellow cur, stood alert -with an almost proprietary interest in what was going on awake in his amber eyes. The -couple of collies in front of them sniffed furtively at the bystanders, and the -wire-haired terrier, which, as leader, was harnessed singly in advance of the lot, was -sharing a bannock with a newly-breeched man-child, the sinister nature of whose squint -almost made the dog’s confidence seem misplaced.</p> - -<p>The occupant of the cart was an elderly man, whom accident had deprived of the lower -part of his legs, both of which had been amputated just below the knee. He had the head of -Falstaff, the shoulders of Hercules, and lack of exercise had made his thighs and back -bulge out over the sides of his carriage, even as the bag of his pipes bulged under his -elbow. He was dressed in tartan breeches and doublet, and he wore a huge Kilmarnock bonnet -with a red knob on the top. The lower half of his face was distended by his occupation, -and at the appearance of Flemington by the gate, he turned on him, above the billows of -crimson cheek and grizzled whisker, the boldest pair of eyes that the young man had ever -met. He was a masterly piper, and as the tune stopped a murmur of applause went through -the audience.</p> - -<p>“Man, ye’re the most mountaineous player in Scotland!” said the miller’s man, who was a -coiner of words.</p> - -<p>“Aye, dod, am I!” replied the piper.</p> - -<p>“Hae?” continued the miller’s man, holding out an apple.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> - -<p>The beggar took it with that silent wag of the back of the head which seems peculiar to -the east coast of Scotland, and dropped it into the cart.</p> - -<p>Archie handed him a sixpence.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ll hae to gie us mair noo!” cried the squinting child, whose eyes had seen straight -enough, and who seemed to have a keen sense of values.</p> - -<p>“Aye, a sang this time,” added its mother.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ll get a pucklie meal an’ a bawbee gin’ ye sing ‘The Tod,’”<a id="footnote1_text" -href="#footnote1_note">*</a> chimed in an old woman, who had suddenly put her head out of -the upper story of the cottage.</p> - -<p>The beggar laid down his pipes and spat on earth. Then he opened his mouth and gave -forth a voice whose volume, flexibility, and extreme sweetness seemed incredible, -considering the being from whom it emanated.</p> - -<div class="verse"> -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“There’s a tod aye blinkin’ when the nicht comes doon,</p> - -<p class="i0a">Blinkin’ wi’ his lang een, and keekin’ round an’ roun’,</p> - -<p class="i0a">Creepin’ by the farm-yaird when gloamin’ is to fa’,</p> - -<p class="i0a">And syne there’ll be a chicken or a deuk awa’.</p> - -<p class="i1a">Aye, when the guidwife rises there’s a deuk awa’!</p> -</blockquote> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“There’s a lass sits greetin’ ben the hoose at hame,</p> - -<p class="i0a">For when the guidwife’s cankered she gie’s her aye the blame,</p> - -<p class="i0a">And sair the lassie’s sabbin’, and fast the tears fa’,</p> - -<p class="i0a">For the guidwife’s tynt a bonnie hen, and it’s awa’.</p> - -<p class="i1a">Aye, she’s no sae easy dealt wi’ when her gear’s awa’!</p> -</blockquote> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“There’s a lad aye roamin’ when the day gets late,</p> - -<p class="i0a">A lang-leggit deevil wi’ his hand upon the gate,</p> - -<p class="i0a">And aye the guidwife cries to him to gar the toddie fa’,</p> - -<p class="i0a">For she canna thole to let her chicks an’ deuks awa’.</p> - -<p class="i1a">Aye, the muckle bubbly-jock himsel’ is ca’ed awa’!</p> -</blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“The laddie saw the tod gae by, an’ killed him wi’ a stane,</p> - -<p class="i0a">And the bonnie lass wha grat sae sair she sits nae mair her lane,</p> - -<p class="i0a">But the guidwife’s no contented yet—her like ye never saw,</p> - -<p class="i0a">Cries she, ‘This time it is the lass, an’ she’s awa’!’</p> - -<p class="i1a">Aye, yon laddie’s waur nor ony tod, for Jean’s awa’!”</p> -</blockquote> -</div> - -<p>Archie beat the top rail of the paling with so much enthusiasm that the yellow cur -began to bark. The beggar quieted him with a storm of abuse.</p> - -<p>The beldame disappeared from the window, and her steps could be heard descending the -wooden stair of the cottage. She approached the cart with a handful of meal on a platter -which Skirling Wattie tilted into an old leather bag that hung on his carriage.</p> - -<p>“Whaur’s the bawbee?” cried the squinting child.</p> - -<p>A shout of laughter went up, led by Archie.</p> - -<p>“He kens there’s nae muckle weicht o’ meal, and wha’ should ken it better?” said the -beggar, balancing the bag on his palm and winking at the miller’s man.</p> - -<p>The latter, who happened to be the child’s unacknowledged parent, disappeared behind -the house.</p> - -<p>“One more song, and I will supply the bawbee,” said Archie, throwing another coin into -the cart.</p> - -<p>Skirling Wattie sent a considering glance at his patron; though he might not understand -refinement, he could recognize it; and much of his local success had come from his nice -appraisement of audiences.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I’ll gie ye Logie Kirk,” said he.</p> - -<div class="verse2"> -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“O Logie Kirk, among the braes</p> - -<p class="i0a">I’m thinkin’ o’ the merry days</p> - -<p class="i0a">Afore I trod the weary ways</p> - -<p class="i1a">That led me far frae Logie.</p> -</blockquote> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“Fine do I mind when I was young,</p> - -<p class="i0a">Abune thy graves the mavis sung,</p> - -<p class="i0a">And ilka birdie had a tongue</p> - -<p class="i1a">To ca’ me back to Logie.</p> -</blockquote> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“O Logie Kirk, tho’ aye the same,</p> - -<p class="i0a">The burn sings ae remembered name,</p> - -<p class="i0a">There’s ne’er a voice to cry ‘Come hame</p> - -<p class="i1a">To bonnie Bess at Logie!’</p> -</blockquote> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“Far, far awa’ the years decline</p> - -<p class="i0a">That took the lassie wha was mine</p> - -<p class="i0a">And laid her sleepin’ lang, lang syne</p> - -<p class="i1a">Among the braes at Logie.”</p> -</blockquote> -</div> - -<p>His voice, and the wonderful pathos of his phrasing, fascinated Archie, but as the last -cadences fell from his mouth, the beggar snatched up the long switch with which he drove -his team and began to roar.</p> - -<p>“A’m awa’!” he shouted, making every wall and corner echo. “Open the gate an’ let me -through, ye misbegotten bairns o’ Auld Nick! Stand back, ye clortie-faced weans, an’ let -me out! Round about an’ up the road! Just round about an’ up the road, a’ tell ye!”</p> - -<p>The last sentences were addressed to the dogs who were now all on their legs and -mindful of the stick whirling in the air above them.</p> - -<p>Archie could see that he was not included in the beggar’s general address, but, being -nearest to the gate, he swung it open and the whole equipage <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-43">[Pg 43]</a></span>dashed through, the dogs guided with -amazing dexterity between the posts by their master’s switch. The rapid circle they -described on the road as they were turned up the hill towards Brechin seemed likely to -upset the cart, but the beggar leaned outwards so adroitly that none of the four wheels -left the ground. As they went up the incline he took up his pipes, and leaving the team to -its own guidance, tuned up and disappeared round the next bend in a blast of sound.</p> - -<p>Flemington would have given a great deal to run after him, and could easily have -overtaken the cart, for its pace was not very formidable. But the whole community, -including the tow-headed little girl, was watching Skirling Wattie out of sight and -speculating, he knew, upon his own identity. So he walked leisurely on till the road -turned at the top of the hill, and he was rewarded at the other side of its bend by the -sight of the beggar halting his team by a pond at which the dogs were drinking. He threw a -look around and behind him; then, as no human creature was to be seen, he gave a loud -whistle, holding up his arm, and began to run.</p> - -<p>Skirling Wattie awaited him at the pond-side, and as Archie approached, he could almost -feel his bold eyes searching him from top to toe. He stopped by the cart.</p> - -<p>“My name is Flemington,” said he.</p> - -<p>“A’ve heard worse,” replied the other calmly.</p> - -<p>“And I have a description of you in my pocket,” <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-44">[Pg 44]</a></span>continued Archie. “Perhaps you would like -to see it.”</p> - -<p>The beggar looked up at him from under his bushy eyebrows, with a smile of the most -robust and genial effrontery that he had ever seen on a human face.</p> - -<p>“A’d need to,” said he.</p> - -<p>Archie took a folded paper from his pocket.</p> - -<p>“You see that signature,” he said, putting his forefinger on it.</p> - -<p>The other reached up to take the paper.</p> - -<p>“No, no,” said Flemington, “this never goes out of my hand.”</p> - -<p>“That’s you!” exclaimed the beggar, with some admiration. “Put it back. A’ ken it.”</p> - -<p>He unhooked his leather bag, which hung inside the cart on its front board. This Archie -perceived to be made, apparently for additional strength, of two thicknesses of wood. -Skirling Wattie slid the inner plank upwards, and the young man saw a couple of sealed -letters hidden behind it, one of which was addressed to himself.</p> - -<p>“Tak’ yon,” said the beggar, as the sound of a horse’s tread was heard not far off, -“tak’ it quick an’ syne awa’ ye gang! Mind ye, a gang ilka twa days frae Montrose to -Brechin, an a’m aye skirlin’ as a gang.”</p> - -<p>“And do you take this one and have it sent on from Brechin,” said Archie hurriedly, -handing him the letter he had written to Madam Flemington.</p> - -<p>The other wagged the back of his head, and laid a finger against the rim of his -bonnet.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p> - -<p>Archie struck into the fields by the pond, and had time to drop down behind a whin-bush -before an inoffensive-looking farmer went by on his way between the two towns.</p> - -<p>The beggar continued his progress, singing to himself, and Flemington, who did not care -to face the mill and the curious eyes of the tow-headed little girl again, took a line -across country back to Balnillo.</p> - -<p>He hated the tow-headed little girl.</p> - -<hr class="small" /> - -<p class="footnote" id="footnote1_note"><a href="#footnote1_text">*</a> Fox.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter104"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter104_hdg"><a href="#Chapter104_toc">CHAPTER IV<br /> -<span class="chap_title">BUSINESS</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">E<small>VENTS</small> seemed to Flemington to be moving fast.</p> - -<p>Lord Balnillo dined soon after five, and during the meal the young man tried to detach -his mind from the contents of the letter lying in his pocket and to listen to his host’s -talk, which ran on the portrait to be begun next morning.</p> - -<p>The judge had ordered his robes to be taken out and aired carefully, and a little room -with a north aspect had been prepared for the first sitting. The details of Archie’s trade -had excited the household below stairs, and the servant who waited appeared to look upon -him with the curious mixture of awe and contempt accorded to charlatans and to those -connected with the arts. Only James seemed to remain outside the circle of interest, like -a wayfarer who pauses to watch the progress of some wayside bargain with which he has no -concern. Yet, though Archie’s occupations did not move Logie, the young man felt -intuitively that he was anything but a hostile presence.</p> - -<p>“With your permission I shall go early to bed to-night,” said Flemington to his host, -as the three <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-47">[Pg 47]</a></span>sat -over their wine by the dining-room fire and the clock’s hands pointed to eight.</p> - -<p>“Fie!” said the judge; “you are a young man to be thinking of such things at this -hour.”</p> - -<p>“My bones have not forgotten yesterday——” began Archie.</p> - -<p>“And what would you do if you had to ride the circuit, sir?” exclaimed Balnillo, -looking sideways at him like a sly old crow. “Man, James, you and I have had other things -to consider besides our bones! And here’s Mr. Flemington, who might be your son and my -grandson, havering about his bed!”</p> - -<p>Archie laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>“Captain Logie would need to have married young for that!” he cried. “And I cannot -picture your lordship as anybody’s grandfather.”</p> - -<p>“Come, Jamie, how old are you?” inquired his brother in a tone that had a light touch -of gratification.</p> - -<p>“I lose count nowadays,” said James, sighing. “I must be near upon eight-and-thirty, I -suppose. Life’s a long business, after all.”</p> - -<p>“Yours has scarcely been long enough to have begotten me, unless you had done so at -twelve years old,” observed Archie.</p> - -<p>“When I had to ride the circuit,” began Balnillo, setting down his glass and joining -his hands across his waistcoat, “I had many a time to stick fast in worse places than the -Den yonder—ay, and to leave my horse where he was and get forward on my clerk’s nag. I’ve -been forced to <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-48">[Pg 48]</a></span>sit -the bench in another man’s wig because my own had rolled in the water in my luggage, and -was a plaster of dirt—maybe never fit to be seen again upon a Lord of Session’s head.”</p> - -<p>Logie smiled with his crooked mouth. He remembered, though he did not mention, the -vernacular rhyme written on that occasion by some impudent member of the junior bar:</p> - -<div class="verse"> -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i1">“Auld David Balnillo gangs wantin’ his wig,</p> - -<p class="i1a">And he’s seekin’ the loan of anither as big.</p> - -<p class="i1a">A modest request, an’ there’s naething agin’ it,</p> - -<p class="i1a">But he’d better hae soucht a new head to put in it!”</p> -</blockquote> -</div> - -<p>“It was only last year,” continued his brother, “that I gave up the saddle and the -bench together.”</p> - -<p>“That was more from choice than from necessity—at least, so I have heard,” said -Archie.</p> - -<p>“You heard that, Mr. Flemington?”</p> - -<p>“My lord, do you think that we obscure country-folk know nothing? or that reputations -don’t fly farther than Edinburgh? The truth is that we of the younger generation are not -made of the same stuff. That is what my grandmother tells me so often—so often that, from -force of habit, I don’t listen. But I have begun to believe it at last.”</p> - -<p>“She is a wise woman,” said Balnillo.</p> - -<p>“She has been a mighty attractive one,” observed Archie meditatively; “at least, so she -was thought at St. Germain.”</p> - -<p>“At St. Germain?” exclaimed the judge.</p> - -<p>“My grandfather died in exile with his master, and my father too,” replied Flemington -quietly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-49">[Pg 49]</a></span></p> - -<p>There was a silence, and then James Logie opened his mouth to speak, but Archie had -risen.</p> - -<p>“Let me go, Lord Balnillo,” he said. “The truth is, my work needs a steady hand, and I -mean to have it when I begin your portrait to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>When he had gone James took the empty seat by his brother.</p> - -<p>“His grandfather with the King, and he following this womanish trade!” he -exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“I should like to have asked him more about his father,” said Balnillo; “but——”</p> - -<p>“He did not wish to speak; I could see that,” said James. “I like the fellow, David, in -spite of his paint-pots. I would like him much if I had time to like anything.”</p> - -<p>“I have been asking myself: am I a fool to be keeping him here?” said the other. “Was I -right to let a strange man into the house at such a time? I am relieved, James. He is on -the right side.”</p> - -<p>“He keeps his ears open, brother.”</p> - -<p>“He seems to know all about <i>me</i>,” observed Balnillo. “He’s a fine lad, Jamie—a -lad of fine taste; and his free tongue hasn’t interfered with his good sense. And I am -relieved, as I said.”</p> - -<p>Logie smiled again. The affection he had for his brother was of that solid quality -which accepts a character in the lump, and loves it for its best parts. David’s little -vanities and vacillations, his meticulous love of small things, were plain enough to the -soldier, and he knew well that the bench <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-50">[Pg 50]</a></span>and the bar alike had found plenty to make merry over in -Balnillo. He had all the loyal feeling which the Scot of his time bore to the head of his -family, and, as his sentiments towards him sprang from the heart rather than from the -brain, it is possible that he undervalued the sudden fits of shrewdness which would attack -his brother as headache or ague might attack another man. The fact that David’s colleagues -had never made this mistake was responsible for a career the success of which surprised -many who knew the judge by hearsay alone. Drink, detail and indecision have probably -ruined more characters than any three other influences in the world; but the two latter -had not quite succeeded with Lord Balnillo, and the former had passed him over.</p> - -<p>“I wonder——” said James—“I wonder is it a good chance that has sent him here? Could we -make anything of him, David?”</p> - -<p>“Whisht, James!” said the other, turning his face away quickly. “You go too fast. And, -mind you, if a man has only one notion in his head, there are times when his skull is -scarce thick enough to stand between his thoughts and the world.”</p> - -<p>“That is true. But I doubt Flemington’s mind is too much taken up with his pictures to -think what is in other men’s heads.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” replied Balnillo; “but we’ll know that better a few days hence. I am not sorry -he has gone to bed.”</p> - -<p>“I will give him an hour to get between his <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-51">[Pg 51]</a></span>blankets,” said Logie, drawing out his watch. “That should -make him safe.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Flemington had reached his room and was pulling his great package of spare -canvases from under his sombre four-poster. He undid the straps which secured them and -drew from between two of them a long dark riding-coat, thrusting back the bundle into its -place. He changed his clothes and threw those he had taken off on a chair. Then he took -the little locked box he had saved so carefully from the catastrophe of the previous -night, and, standing on the bed, he laid it on the top of the tester, which was near -enough to the ceiling to prevent any object placed upon it from being seen. He gathered a -couple of cushions from a couch, and, beating them up, arranged them between the -bedclothes, patting them into a human-looking shape. Though he meant to lock his door and -to keep the key in his pocket during the absence he contemplated, and though he had -desired the servants not to disturb him until an hour before breakfast, he had the good -habit of preparing for the worst.</p> - -<p>He slipped out with the coat over his arm, turned the key and walked softly but boldly -down into the hall. He paused outside the dining-room, listening to the hum of the -brothers’ voices, then disappeared down the back-stairs. If he found the door into the -stable-yard secured he meant to call someone from the kitchen regions to open it and to -announce that he was going out to look at his disabled horse. He would say that <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-52">[Pg 52]</a></span>he intended to return -through the front door, by which Captain Logie had promised to admit him.</p> - -<p>Everything was quiet. The only sign of life was the shrill voice of a maid singing in -the scullery as she washed the dishes, and the house was not shut up for the night. -Through the yard he went and out unmolested, under the great arch which supported the -stable clock, and then ran swiftly round to the front. He passed under the still lighted -windows and plunged into a mass of trees and undergrowth which headed the eastern -approach.</p> - -<p>Once among the friendly shadows, he put on the coat, buttoning it closely about his -neck, and took a small grey wig from one of its deep pockets. When he had adjusted this -under his hat he emerged, crossed the avenue, dropped over the sunk wall dividing it from -the fields, and made down them till he reached the Montrose road. Through the still -darkness the sound of the Balnillo stable clock floated after him, striking nine.</p> - -<p>There was not enough light to show him anything but his nearest surroundings. The wall -which bounded the great Balnillo grass-parks was at his left hand, and by it he guided his -steps, keeping a perpetual look out to avoid stumbling over the inequalities and loose -stones, for there were no side-paths to the roads in those days. He knew that the town was -only three miles off, and that the dark stretch which extended on his right was the Basin -of Montrose. A cold snap played in the air, reminding him that autumn, <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-53">[Pg 53]</a></span>which in Scotland keeps -its mellowness late, was some way forward, and this sting in the breath of night was -indicated by a trembling of the stars in the dark vault overhead.</p> - -<p>He hastened on, for time was precious. The paper which he had taken from Skirling -Wattie’s hands had bid him prepare to follow Logie into the town when dark set in, but it -had been able to tell him neither at what hour the soldier would start nor whether he -would walk or ride.</p> - -<p>His chance in meeting the beggar so soon had put him in possession of James’s usual -movements immediately, but it had given him little time to think out many details, and the -gaps in his plans had been filled in by guesswork. He did not think James would ride, for -there had been no sound of preparation in the stable. His intention was to reach the town -first, to conceal himself by its entrance, and when James should pass, to follow him to -his destination. He had a rough map of Montrose in his possession, and with its help he -had been able to locate the house for which he suspected him to be bound—a house known by -the party he served to be one of the meeting-places of the adherents of Charles Edward -Stuart.</p> - -<p>Archie’s buoyancy of spirit was sufficient to keep at arm’s length a regret he could -not quite banish; for he had the happy carelessness that carries a man easily on any -errand which has possibilities of development, more from the cheerful love of chance than -from responsible feeling. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-54">[Pg -54]</a></span>His light-hearted courage and tenacity were buried so deep under a -luxuriance of effrontery, grace, and mother-wit, and the glamour of a manner difficult to -resist, that hardly anyone but Madam Flemington, who had brought him up, suspected the -toughness of their quality. He had the refinement of a woman, yet he had extorted the -wonder of an east-coast Scotsman by his comprehensive profanity; the expression, at times, -of a timid girl, yet he would plunge into a flood of difficulties, whose further shore he -did not trouble to contemplate; but these contrasts in him spoke of no repression, no -conscious effort. He merely rode every quality in his character with a loose rein, and -while he attempted to puzzle nobody, he had the acuteness to know that his audience would -puzzle itself by its own conception of him. The regret which he ignored was the regret -that he was obliged to shadow a man who pleased him as much as did James Logie. He -realized how much more satisfaction he would have got out of his present business had its -object been Lord Balnillo. He liked James’s voice, his bearing, his crooked mouth, and -something intangible about him which he neither understood nor tried to understand. The -iron hand of Madam Flemington had brought him up so consistently to his occupation that he -accepted it as a part of life. His painting he used as a means, not as an end, and the -changes and chances of his main employment were congenial to a temperament at once boyish -and capable.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p> - -<p>The Pleiades rode high above Taurus, and Orion’s hands were coming up over the eastern -horizon as he reached the narrow street which was the beginning of Montrose. The place was -dark and ill-lit, like every country town of those days; and here, by the North Port, as -it was called, the irregularities of the low houses, with their outside stairs, offered a -choice of odd corners in which he might wait unseen.</p> - -<p>He chose the narrowest part of the street, that he might see across it the more -readily, and drew back into the cavity, roofed in by the ‘stairhead’ of a projecting -flight of steps which ran sideways up a wall. Few people would leave the town at that -hour, and those who were still abroad were likely to keep within its limits. A wretched -lamp, stuck in a niche of an opposite building, made his position all the more desirable, -for the flicker which it cast would be sufficient to throw up the figure of Logie should -he pass beneath it. He watched a stealthy cat cross its shine with an air of suppressed -melodrama that would have befitted a man-eating tiger, and the genial bellowing of a -couple of drunken men came down the High Street as he settled his shoulders against the -masonry at his back and resigned himself to a probable hour of tedium.</p> - -<p class="small_break"> </p> - -<p>Not a mile distant, James Logie was coming along the Montrose road. He had trodden it -many times in the darkness during the past weeks, and his mind was roving far from his -steps, far <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-56">[Pg 56]</a></span>even -from the errand on which he was bent. He was thinking of Archie, whom he believed to be -snug in bed at Balnillo.</p> - -<p>He had gone out last night and landed this fantastic piece of young humanity from the -Den, as a man may land a salmon, and he had contemplated him ever since with a kind of -fascination. Flemington was so much unlike any young man he had known that the difference -half shocked him, and though he had told his brother that he liked the fellow, he had done -so in spite of one side of himself. It was hard to believe that but a dozen years divided -them, for he had imagined Archie much younger, and the appeal of his boyishness was a -strong one to Logie, who had had so little time for boyishness himself. His life since he -was fifteen had been merged in his profession, and the restoration of the Stuarts had been -for many years the thing nearest to his heart. There had been one exception to this, and -that had long gone out of his life, taking his youth with it. He was scarcely a sad man, -but he had the habit of sadness, which is as hard a one to combat as any other, and the -burst of youth and buoyancy that had come in suddenly with Archie had blown on James like -a spring wind. Archie’s father and grandfather had died in exile, too, with Charles -Edward’s parents. And his eyes reminded him of other eyes.</p> - -<p>The events that had taken place since the landing of the Prince in July had made -themselves felt all up the east coast, and the country was <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-57">[Pg 57]</a></span>Jacobite almost to a man. Charles Edward -had raised his standard at Glenfinnan, had marched on Edinburgh in the early part of -September, and had established himself in Holyrood on the surrender of the town. After his -victory over Cope at Preston Pans, he had collected his forces on Portobello -sands—thirteen regiments composed of the Highland clans, five regiments of Lowlanders, two -troops of horse commanded by Lords Elcho and Balmerino, with two others under Lord -Kilmarnock and Lord Pitsligo. The command of the latter consisted of Angus men armed with -such weapons as they owned or could gather.</p> - -<p>The insurgent army had entered England in two portions: one of these led by Lord George -Murray, and one by the Prince himself, who marched at the head of his men, sharing the -fatigues of the road with them, and fascinating the imagination of the Scots by his -hopeful good-humour and his keen desire to identify himself with his soldiers. The two -bodies had concentrated on Carlisle, investing the city, and after a few days of defiance, -the mayor displayed the white flag on the ramparts and surrendered the town keys. After -this, the Prince and his father had been proclaimed at the market cross, in presence of -the municipality.</p> - -<p>But in spite of this success the signs of the times were not consistently cheering to -the Jacobite party. There had been many desertions during the march across the border, and -no sooner had the Prince’s troops left Edinburgh than the city <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-58">[Pg 58]</a></span>had gone back to the Whig dominion. At -Perth and Dundee the wind seemed to be changing too, and only the country places stuck -steadily to the Prince and went on recruiting for the Stuarts.</p> - -<p>Although he was aching to go south with the invaders, now that the English were -advancing in force, Logie was kept in the neighbourhood of Montrose by the business he had -undertaken. His own instincts and inclinations were ever those of a fighter, and he -groaned in spirit over the fate which had made it his duty to remain in Angus, concerned -with recruiting and the raising of money and arms. He had not yet openly joined the -Stuarts, in spite of his ardent devotion to their cause, because it had been represented -to him that he was, for the moment, a more valuable asset to his party whilst he worked -secretly than he could be in the field. The question that perplexed the coast of Angus was -the landing of those French supplies so sorely needed by the half-fed, half-clothed, -half-paid troops, in the face of the English cruisers that haunted the coast; and it was -these matters that kept Logie busy.</p> - -<p>James knew the harbour of Montrose as men know the places which are the scenes of the -forbidden exploits of their youth. This younger son, who was so far removed in years from -the rest of his family as to be almost like an only child, was running wild in the town -among the fisher-folk, and taking surreptitious trips across the bar when the staid David -was pursuing his respectable career at a very different kind of bar in Edinburgh. <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-59">[Pg 59]</a></span>He was the man that -Montrose needed in this emergency, and to-night he was on his way to the town; for he -would come there a couple of times in the week, as secretly as he could, to meet one David -Ferrier, a country gentleman who had joined the regiment of six hundred men raised by Lord -Ogilvie, and had been made deputy-governor of Brechin for the Prince.</p> - -<p>Ferrier also was a man well calculated to serve the cause. He owned a small property -and a farm not far from the village of Edzell, situated at the foot of a glen running up -into the Grampians, and his perfect knowledge of the country and its inhabitants of all -degrees gave him an insight into every turn of feeling that swept through it in those -troubled days. The business of his farm had brought him continually into both Brechin and -Montrose, and the shepherds, travelling incessantly with their flocks from hill to strath, -formed one of his many chains of intelligence. He had joined Lord Ogilvie a couple of -months earlier, and, though he was now stationed at Brechin with a hundred men of his -corps, he would absent himself for a night at a time, staying quietly at Montrose in the -house of a former dependent of his own, that he might keep an eye upon the movements of an -English ship.</p> - -<p>The Government sloop-of-war <i>Venture</i> had come into the harbour, carrying sixteen -guns and about eighty men, and had anchored south of the town, in the strait made by the -passage of the River Esk into the sea. Montrose, apparently, was <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-60">[Pg 60]</a></span>to suffer for the work she had done as a -port for Stuart supplies, for the <i>Venture</i>, lying at a convenient distance just -under the fishing village of Ferryden, had fired heavily on the town, though no Jacobite -troops were there. The commander had unrigged the shipping and burned two trading barques -whose owners were townsmen, and he had landed a force at the fort, which had captured the -town guns and had carried them on board a vessel lying at the quay.</p> - -<p>Ferrier looked with complete trust to James Logie and his brother Balnillo. The old -man, during his judicial career, had made some parade of keeping himself aloof from -politics; and as his retirement had taken place previous to the landing of the Prince, he -had sunk the public servant in the country gentleman before the world of politicians began -to divide the sheep from the goats. For some time few troubled their heads about the -peaceable and cautious old Lord of Session, whose inconspicuous talents were vegetating -among the trees and grass-parks that the late Lady Balnillo had husbanded so carefully for -him. As to his very much younger brother, who had been incessantly absent from his native -land, his existence was practically forgotten. But because the Government’s Secret -Intelligence Department on the east coast had remembered it at last with some suspicion, -Flemington had been sent to Montrose with directions to send his reports to its agent in -Perth. And Flemington had bettered his orders in landing himself at Balnillo.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> - -<p>As Archie heard a steady tread approaching, he shrank farther back under the stair. He -could only distinguish a middle-sized male figure which might belong to anyone, and he -followed it with straining eyes to within a few feet of the lamp. Here it paused, and, -skirting the light patch, stepped out into the middle of the way.</p> - -<p>He scarcely breathed. He was not sure yet, though the man had come nearer by half the -street; but the height matched his expectation, and the avoidance of the solitary light -proved the desire for secrecy in the person before him. As the man moved on he slipped -from his shelter and followed him, keeping just enough distance between them to allow him -to see the way he went.</p> - -<p>The two figures passed up the High Street, one behind the other, Flemington shrinking -close to the walls and drawing a little nearer. Before they had gone a hundred yards, his -unconscious guide turned suddenly into one of those narrow covered-in alleys, or closes, -as they are called, which started at right angles from the main street.</p> - -<p>Archie dived in after him as unconcernedly as he would have dived into the mouth of -hell, had his interests taken him that way. These closes, characteristic of Scottish towns -to this day, were so long, and burrowed under so many sightless-looking windows and doors, -to emerge in unexpected places, that he admired James’s knowledge of the short cuts of -Montrose, though it seemed to <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-62">[Pg -62]</a></span>him no more than natural. The place for which he conceived him to be making -was a house in the New Wynd nicknamed the ‘Happy Land,’ and kept by a well-known widow for -purposes which made its insignificance an advantage. It was used, as he had heard, by the -Jacobite community, because the frequent visitors who entered after dusk passed in without -more comment from the townspeople than could be expressed in a lifted eyebrow or a sly -nudge. It was a disconcerting moment, even to him, when the man in front of him stopped, -and what he had taken for the distant glimmer of an open space revealed itself as a patch -of whitewash with a door in it. The close was a cul-de-sac.</p> - -<p>Flemington stood motionless as the other knocked at the door. Flight was undesirable, -for James might give chase, and capture would mean the end of a piece of work of which he -was justly proud. He guessed himself to be the fleeter-footed of the two, but he knew -nothing of the town’s byways, and other night-birds besides Logie might join in. But his -bold wit did not desert him, for he gave a loud drunken shout, as like those he had heard -at the North Port as he could make it, and lurched across the close. Its other inmate -turned towards him, and as he did so Archie shouted again, and, stumbling against him, -subsided upon the paved floor.</p> - -<p>The door beyond them opened a little, showing a portion of a scared face and a hand -which held a light.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Guid sakes! what’ll be wrang?” inquired a tremulous female voice.</p> - -<p>The man was standing over Archie, pushing him with his foot. His answer may have -reassured the questioner, but it had a different effect upon the heap on the ground.</p> - -<p>“Hoot, woman! don’t be a fool! It’s me—Ferrier!”</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter105"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter105_hdg"><a href="#Chapter105_toc">CHAPTER V<br /> -“<span class="chap_title">THE HAPPY LAND</span>”</a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">T<small>HE</small> door opened a little further.</p> - -<p>“Here,” said Ferrier to the woman, “go up and bring me the roll of unwritten paper from -the table.”</p> - -<p>“You’ll no be coming in?”</p> - -<p>“Not now. Maybe in another hour or more.”</p> - -<p>“But wha’s yon?” said she.</p> - -<p>“Lord! woman, have you lived all these years in Montrose and never seen a drunken man?” -exclaimed he impatiently. “Shut the door, I’m telling you, and get what I want. He will -not trouble you. He’s past troubling anybody.”</p> - -<p>She obeyed, and Archie heard a bolt shot on the inside.</p> - -<p>Though he had been startled on discovering his mistake, he now felt comforted by it, -for, being unknown to Ferrier, he was much safer with him than he would have been with -James. He raised his head and tried to get an idea of his companion’s face, but the -darkness of the close was too great to let him distinguish his features. He had discovered -where he lived by accident, but <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-65">[Pg -65]</a></span>though a description of the man was in the little box now reposing on the -tester of his bed at Balnillo, he did not know him by sight. These things were going -through his mind as the woman returned from her lodger’s errand, and the door had just -been made fast again when there was a step at the close’s mouth and another man came -quickly in, stopping short as he found it occupied.</p> - -<p>Ferrier coughed.</p> - -<p>“Ferrier?” said James’s voice softly. “What is this?” he asked as his foot came in -contact with Archie.</p> - -<p>“It’s a drunken brute who came roaring in here a minute syne and fell head over heels -at my door,” replied the other. “The town is full of them to-night.”</p> - -<p>He stooped down and took Flemington by the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Up you get!” he cried, shaking him.</p> - -<p>Archie breathed heavily and let his whole weight hang on Ferrier’s hand.</p> - -<p>“Haud awa’ frae me, lassie!” he expostulated thickly.</p> - -<p>Logie laughed.</p> - -<p>“He must be far gone indeed to take you for a lass,” he observed.</p> - -<p>Ferrier gave Archie a stronger shake.</p> - -<p>“A’ll no gang hame wantin’ Annie!” continued Flemington, whose humour was beginning to -find some pleasure in the situation.</p> - -<p>The raw vernacular that he had mastered with <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-66">[Pg 66]</a></span>absolute success in childhood was at his tongue’s end -still.</p> - -<p>“Come, come,” said James.</p> - -<p>Ferrier moved forward, but Archie had reached out a limp hand and taken him by the -ankle.</p> - -<p>“Annie!” he muttered, “ma bonnie, bonnie Annie!”</p> - -<p>Ferrier, who had nearly fallen forward, tried to strike out with his foot, but Archie’s -grip, nerveless yet clinging as a limpet, held him fast.</p> - -<p>“A’ tell ye, a’ll nae gang hame wantin’ Annie!” he repeated more loudly.</p> - -<p>“He has me by the foot, damn him!” said Ferrier.</p> - -<p>James swore quietly but distinctly.</p> - -<p>“Annie! <i>Annie!</i>” roared Archie, making the silent close echo again.</p> - -<p>“Great heavens!” exclaimed the exasperated James, “we shall have the whole town out of -bed if this goes on! Shake him off, man, and let us be going.”</p> - -<p>He bent down as he spoke and groping in the darkness, found Flemington’s heels. He -seized them and began to drag him backwards as a man drags a fighting dog. He had a grip -of iron.</p> - -<p>The effect of the sudden pull on Ferrier was to make him lose his balance. He staggered -against the side of the close, calling to Logie to desist.</p> - -<p>Archie still held on with back-boneless tenacity; but as the scrape of flint and steel -cut the darkness, he knew that he had carried his superfluous pleasantries too far. He -dared not loose Ferrier’s <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-67">[Pg -67]</a></span>ankle and roll to the wall, lest the action should prove him to be more -wideawake and less intoxicated than he seemed. He could only bury his face in his -sleeve.</p> - -<p>His next sensation was a violent stab of burning pain in his wrist that made him draw -it back with a groan.</p> - -<p>“I knew that would mend matters,” said James grimly, as he blew out the tiny twist of -ignited tow and replaced it and the steel box in his pocket. “Come away—this sot has -wasted our time long enough. He can sleep off his liquor as well here as anywhere -else.”</p> - -<p>“You’ve helped to sober him,” said Ferrier, as the two men went out of the close.</p> - -<p>Flemington sat up. The burn stung him dreadfully, for the saltpetre in which the tow -had been dipped added to the smart. But there was no time to be lost, so he rose and -followed again.</p> - -<p>Ferrier and Logie went off up the High Street, and turned down an offshoot of it which -Archie guessed to be the New Wynd, because it answered to its position in his map of the -town. He dashed to the corner and watched them by the one light which illuminated the -narrow street till he could see them no longer. Then he flitted after them, a soft-footed -shadow, and withdrew under a friendly ‘stairhead,’ as he had done at the North Port. A -little farther on he could distinguish the two ascending an outside stair to a squat -building, and he heard the sound of their knuckles on wood. Another minute and they were -admitted.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p> - -<p>The two captains were let into a small room in the back premises of ‘The Happy Land’ by -a slatternly-looking woman, who disappeared when she had given them a light. Pens and ink -lay upon the table and the smoke of lamps had blackened the ceiling. It was a wretched -place, and the sound of rough voices came now and again from other parts of the house. -James drew up a chair, and Ferrier also sat down, tossing the roll of paper to his -companion.</p> - -<p>“A young man called Flemington is at Balnillo painting my brother’s portrait,” said -Logie. “It’s a pity that I have not something of his gift for drawing.”</p> - -<p>“Flemington——?” said the other. “There is a widow Flemington who lives a mile or so -this side of the Perthshire border; but that is the only part of the country I do not -know.”</p> - -<p>“This is her grandson. She lived at St. Germain, and her husband was with King James. -He is a strange lad—a fine lad too. My brother seems mightily taken up with him.”</p> - -<p>“Where is your plan?” asked Ferrier.</p> - -<p>James took out a small pocket-book and laid it on the table; then he smoothed out the -roll of paper, drew the points of the compass on it, and began to copy from the rough -sketches and signs which covered the leaf of his little book.</p> - -<p>Ferrier watched him in silence.</p> - -<p>“I could not do that were it to save my life,” he said at last.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I learned something, campaigning by the walls of Dantzig,” replied James.</p> - -<p>Ferrier watched the growing of the hasty map with admiration. His own talents for -organization and tactics had given this obscure landowner the position he held in the -Prince’s haphazard army, but the professional soldier was invaluable to him. He sat -wondering how he could have got on without James.</p> - -<p>“See,” said Logie, pushing the paper to him, “here lies the <i>Venture</i> off -Ferryden, at the south side of the river, and here is Inchbrayock Island. That English -captain is a fool, or he would have landed some men there. You and I will land on it, -Ferrier. And now,” he went on, “the man is twice a fool, for, though he has taken the guns -from the fort and put them on board one of the unrigged ships, he has left her beside the -quay. This point that I have marked with a cross is where she is moored. It would be idle -not to make use of such folly! Why, man, if we can carry through the work I have in my -mind, we shall blow the <i>Venture</i> out of the water! Three nights I have skulked round -the harbour, and now I think that every close and every kennel that opens its mouth upon -it is in my head. And the island is the key to everything.”</p> - -<p>Logie’s eyes shone in the dim room like the eyes of some animal watching in a cave.</p> - -<p>“We must get possession of the ship at the quay-side,” continued he. “Then we will take -a couple of the town guns and land them on Inchbrayock. <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-70">[Pg 70]</a></span>A hundred men from Brechin should be -sufficient.”</p> - -<p>“It must be done at night,” said the other.</p> - -<p>“At night,” said James, getting up and putting his hands on the back of his chair. “And -now, as soon as possible, we must go down to the harbour and look carefully at the -position of everything.”</p> - -<p>Ferrier stood up and stretched himself, as men so often will when they are turning over -some unacknowledged intention.</p> - -<p>James took up the roll of paper, glanced at it and threw it down again.</p> - -<p>“I see it as though it had come by inspiration!” he cried. “I see that we have a -blockhead to deal with, and when heaven sends such an advantage to His Highness, it is not -you nor I, Ferrier, who will balk its design. You will not hang back?”</p> - -<p>He looked at his friend as though he were ready to spring at him. But Ferrier went on -with his own train of thought. He was a slower man than Logie, but if he lacked his fire, -he lacked none of his resolution.</p> - -<p>“You are right,” he said. “A man is a fool who leaves what he has captured on the -farther side of the river, who thinks, having taken his enemy’s guns from a fort, that he -can let it stand empty. He has done these follies because he knows that there are no -troops in Montrose.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, but there are troops in Brechin!” burst out James.</p> - -<p>“There are troops in Brechin,” repeated <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-71">[Pg 71]</a></span>Ferrier slowly, “and they must be got quietly into the -town. I wish there were not eight miles of road between the two.”</p> - -<p>“I have not forgotten that,” said James, “and to-night I mean to remain here till -daylight and then return home by the side of the Basin. I will make my way along its shore -and judge whether it be possible for you to bring your men by that route. If you can get -them out of Brechin by the river-bank and so on along the side of the Esk, you will avoid -the road and I will be waiting for you at the fort.”</p> - -<p>Logie had come round the little table and stood by his friend, waiting for him to -speak.</p> - -<p>“I will go with you,” said Ferrier. “We can part below Balnillo, and I, too, will go -back to Brechin by the river. I must know every step before I attempt to bring them in the -dark. There must be no delays when the time comes.”</p> - -<p>James drew a long sigh of relief. He had never doubted his companion’s zeal, but his -heart had been on fire with the project he carried in it, and Ferrier’s complete -acceptance of it was balm to his spirit. He was a man who spared himself nothing, mentally -or physically.</p> - -<p>He folded the roll of paper and gave it to Ferrier.</p> - -<p>“Keep it,” said he. “Now we must go to the harbour.”</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter106"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter106_hdg"><a href="#Chapter106_toc">CHAPTER VI<br /> -<span class="chap_title">IN DARKNESS AND IN LIGHT</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">W<small>HEN</small> the men had disappeared into the house, Archie -remained under his stairhead considering. He had been told in his instructions to discover -two things—whether Logie was in touch with Ferrier, and whether ‘The Happy Land’ was -frequented by the pair. Though Ferrier was in command of the small Jacobite force in -Brechin, it was suspected that he spent an unknown quantity of his time in Montrose.</p> - -<p>To the first of these questions he had already mastered the answer; it only remained -for him to be absolutely certain that the house in front of him was ‘The Happy Land.’ He -could not swear that he was in the New Wynd, though he was morally certain of it, but -there were marks upon the house which would be proof of its identity. There would be a -little hole, covered by an inside sliding panel, in the door of ‘The Happy Land,’ through -which its inmates could see anyone who ascended the stair without being seen themselves, -and there would be the remains of an ancient ‘risp,’ or tirling-pin, at one side of -it.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> - -<p>Archie ran lightly across the street, crept up the staircase, and passed his palm over -the wood. Yes, there was the hole, two inches deep in the solid door. He put in his finger -and felt the panel in the farther side. Then he searched along the wall till his hand came -in contact with the jagged edge of the ancient risp. There was no ring on it, for it had -long been disused, but it hung there still—a useless and maimed veteran, put out of -action.</p> - -<p>He returned to his post satisfied. His discoveries had earned him the right to go home, -but he did not mean to do so. How he was going to get back into Balnillo House, unseen, he -did not know, and had not, so far, troubled himself to imagine. Perhaps he might have to -stop out all night. He hoped not, but he was not going to meet trouble half-way. The house -would be locked, the household—with the exception of the errant James—abed, and his own -room was not upon the ground-floor. However, these were matters for later consideration, -and he would remain where he was for a time. For all he knew, Ferrier and Logie might -combine business with pleasure by staying in ‘The Happy Land’ till morning; but they were -just as likely to come out within measurable time, and then he could see where they went. -He was quite happy, as he was everywhere.</p> - -<p>He fell to thinking of other things: of his host, with his thin, neat legs and velvet -coat; of that ‘riding the circuit’ upon which the old man <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-74">[Pg 74]</a></span>valued himself so much. In his mind’s eye -he figured him astride of his floundering nag at the edge of some uninviting bog in an -access of precise dismay. That was how he would have wished to paint him. His powers of -detachment were such that he became fascinated by the idea, and awoke from it with a start -to hear the footsteps of Logie and Ferrier coming down the stairway opposite.</p> - -<p>They did not retrace their way up the Wynd, but went on to its end and turned into a -street leading southwards, whilst Archie slipped along in their wake. At last they reached -a wilderness of sheds and lumber, above which stood a windmill on a little eminence, and -the strong smell of sea and tar proclaimed the region of the harbour. A light shone clear -and large across the dark space of water, touching the moving ripples, and this Archie -guessed to be the riding-light of the <i>Venture</i>, which lay like a sullen watch-dog -under Ferryden village.</p> - -<p>He had to go very warily, for the pair in front stopped often and stood talking in low -voices, but the bales and coils of rope and heaps of timber with which the quays were -strewn gave him cover. He could not get close enough to them to hear what they said, but -their figures were much plainer against the background of water than they had been in the -streets, and he noted how often Logie would stretch out his arm, pointing to the solitary -light across the strait.</p> - -<p>There was scarcely any illumination on this <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-75">[Pg 75]</a></span>side of it, and the unrigged shipping lay in darkness as -Ferrier and his friend went along the quay and seated themselves on a windlass. Archie, -drawing closer, could hear the rustle as the former unrolled James’s map. The soldier took -out his flint and steel and struck a light, covering it with his hand, and both men bent -their heads over the paper. Archie’s wrist smarted afresh as he saw it; his sleeve had -rubbed the burn, and he could feel the oozing blood.</p> - -<p>He crouched behind them, peering through the medley of ropes and tackle which hung on -the windlass. By standing up he could have touched the two men. He had no idea what it was -that they were studying, but his sharp wits told him that it must be a map of some kind, -something which might concern the English ship across the waterway. He longed to get it. -His confidence in his own luck was one of the qualities that had served him best, and his -confidence in his own speed was great and, moreover, well-placed. He knew that he had -twelve years of advantage over James, and, from the sound of Ferrier’s voice, he judged -that he had the same, or more, over him.</p> - -<p>The temptation of chance overmastered him. He raised himself noiselessly, leaned over -the intervening tackle, and made a bold snatch at the map, which Ferrier held whilst James -was occupied with the lighted twist of tow.</p> - -<p>But his luck was to fail him this time. Logie moved his hand, knocking it against -Flemington’s, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-76">[Pg 76]</a></span>and -the light caught the paper’s edge. A soft puff of sea-wind was coming in from over the -strait, and in one moment the sheet was ablaze. Archie snatched back his hand and fled; -but the glare of the burning paper had been bright enough to show Logie a man’s wrist, on -which there was a fresh, bleeding mark.</p> - -<p>The bright flare of the paper only intensified the darkness for the two astounded men, -and though each was instantly on his feet and running in the direction of the retreating -footsteps, Archie had threaded the maze of amphibious obstacles and was plunging between -the sheds into the street before either of them could get clear of the pitfalls of the -quay.</p> - -<p>He tore on, not knowing whither he went. His start had been a good one, but as he -paused to listen, which he did when he had gone some way, he could hear them following. -The town was so quiet that he met nobody, and he pressed on, trusting to luck for his -direction.</p> - -<p>Through the empty streets he went at the top of his speed, launched on the flood of -chance, and steering as best he could for the north end of the town. Finally, an -unexpected turning brought him within a few yards of the North Port. He waited close to -the spot where he had first taken shelter, and listened; then, hearing nothing, he struck -out at a brisk walk for the country, and was soon clear of Montrose.</p> - -<p>He sat down by the wayside to rest. He had had a more sensational night than he -expected, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-77">[Pg 77]</a></span>and -though his spirits were still good, his ill-luck in missing the paper he had risked so -much to obtain had cooled them a little, and by the light of this disappointment he looked -rather ruefully on his poor prospects of getting to bed. It was past midnight, and there -seemed nothing to do but to return to Balnillo and to make himself as comfortable as he -could in one of the many out-buildings which the yard by its back-door contained. The -household rose early, and at the unlocking of that door he must manage to slip in and gain -his bedroom.</p> - -<p>He rose, plodded home, and stole into the courtyard, where, searching in an outhouse, -he found an endurable couch on a heap of straw. On this he spread his coat like a blanket, -crawling under it, and, with a calmness born of perfect health and perfect nerves, was -soon asleep.</p> - -<p>When dawn broke it found him wakeful. He had not rested well, for his burnt wrist was -very sore, and the straw seemed to find it out and to prick the wound, no matter how he -might dispose his hand. He propped himself against the wall by the open outhouse-window, -whence he could see the back door of Balnillo and watch for the moment of its first -opening. It would be neck or nothing then, for he must enter boldly, trusting to hit on a -lucky moment.</p> - -<p>At last the growing light began to define details of the house, tracing them out on its -great mass with an invisible pencil, and he thought he heard a movement within. The -stable-clock struck six, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-78">[Pg -78]</a></span>and high above he could see the sun touching the slates and the stone angles -of the chimney-stacks with the first fresh ethereal beam of a pure October morning. He -inhaled its breath lovingly, and with it there fell from him the heaviness of his uneasy -night. All was well, he told himself. His sensuous joy in the world, his love of life and -its hazards and energies came back upon him, strong, clean, and ecstatic, and the sounds -of a bolt withdrawn made him rise to his feet.</p> - -<p>A maidservant came out carrying a lantern, whose beam burned with feeble -pretentiousness in the coming sunlight. She set it down by the threshold and went past his -retreat to the stable. No doubt she was going to call the men. When she had gone by he -slipped out, and in a dozen paces was inside the house.</p> - -<p>Another minute and he was in his room.</p> - -<p>He looked with some amusement at the rough effigy of himself which he had made in the -bed overnight, and when he had flung the cushion back to its place he got out of his -clothes and lay down, sinking into the cool luxury of the sheets with a sigh of pleasure. -But he had no desire to sleep, and when a servant came to wake him half an hour later he -was ready to get up. He rose, dressed, wrote out the detailed description of his night’s -discoveries, and put the document in his pocket to await its chance of transmission.</p> - -<p>A message was brought to him from Lord Balnillo as he left his room, which begged his -guest to excuse his company at breakfast. He <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-79">[Pg 79]</a></span>had been long astir, and busy with his correspondence; at -eleven o’clock he would be ready for his sitting, if that were agreeable to Mr. -Flemington.</p> - -<p>As Mr. Flemington realized how easily he might have met the judge as he ran through the -shuttered passage, his belief in the luck that had used him so scurvily last night -returned.</p> - -<p>There was no sign of James as Archie sat down to his meal, though a second place was -set at the table, and as he did not want to ask embarrassing questions, he made no inquiry -about him. Besides which, being immoderately hungry, he was too well occupied to trouble -about anyone.</p> - -<p>He went out upon the terrace when he had finished. The warm greyness of the autumn -morning was lifting from the earth and it was still early enough for long shadows to lie -cool on the westward side of the timber. As they shortened, the crystal of the dew was -catching shafts from the sun, and the parks seemed to lie waiting till the energy of the -young day should let loose the forces of life from under the mystery of its spangled veil. -Where the gean-trees glowed carmine and orange, touches of quickening fire shot through -the interstices of their branches, and coloured like a tress of trailing forget-me-not, -the South Esk wound into the Basin of Montrose, where the tide, ebbing beyond the town, -was leaving its wet sands as a feasting-ground for all sorts of roving birds whose crying -voices came faintly to Archie, mellowed by distance.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-80">[Pg 80]</a></span></p> - -<p>Truly this was a fascinating place, with its changing element of distant water, its -great plain lines of pasture, its ordered vistas of foliage! The passion for beauty lay -deep below the tossing, driving impulses of Flemington’s nature, and it rose up now as he -stood on the yew-edged terraces of Balnillo and gazed before him. For the moment -everything in his mind was swallowed up but the abstract, fundamental desire for -perfection, which is, when all is said and done, humanity’s mainspring, its incessant -though often erring guide, whose perverted behests we call sin, whose legitimate ones we -call virtue; whose very existence is a guarantee of immortality.</p> - -<p>The world, this crystalline morning, was so beautiful to Archie that he ached with the -uncomprehended longing to identify himself with perfection; to cast his body down upon the -light-pervaded earth and to be one with it, to fling his soul into the heights and depths -of the limitless encompassing ether, to be drawn into the heart of God’s material -manifestation on earth—the sun. He understood nothing of what he felt, neither the -discomfort of his imprisonment of flesh, nor the rapturous, tentative, wing-sweeps of the -spirit within it. He left the garden terrace and went off towards the Basin, with the -touch of that elemental flood of truth into which he had been plunged for a moment fresh -on his soul. The whole universe and its contents seemed to him good—and not only good, but -of consummate interest—humanity was fascinating. His failure <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-81">[Pg 81]</a></span>to snatch the map from Ferrier’s hand last -night only made him smile. In the perfection of this transcendent creation all was, and -must be, well!</p> - -<p>His thoughts, woven of the same radiant appreciation, flew to James, whose personality -appealed to him so strongly. The gentle blood which ran in the veins of the pair of -brothers ran closer to the surface in the younger one; and a steadfast, unostentatious -gallantry of heart seemed to be the atmosphere in which he breathed. He was one of those -whose presence in a room would always be the strongest force in it, whether he spoke or -was silent, and his voice had the tone of something sounding over great and hidden depths. -It was not necessary to talk to him to know that he had lived a life of vicissitude, and -Archie, all unsuspected, in the watches of last night had seen a side of him which did not -show at Balnillo. His grim resourcefulness in small things was illustrated by the raw spot -on the young man’s wrist. That episode pleased Flemington’s imagination—though it might -have pleased him even better had the victim been someone else; but he bore James no malice -for it, and the picture of the man haunting the dark quays, strewn with romantic, -sea-going lumber, and scheming for the cause at his heart, whilst the light from the -hostile ship trailed the water beside him, charmed his active fancy.</p> - -<p>But it was not only his fancy that was at work. He knew that the compelling atmosphere -of Logie had not been created by mere fancy, because <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-82">[Pg 82]</a></span>there was something larger than himself, -and larger than anything he could understand, about the soldier. And feeling, as he was -apt to do, every little change in the mental climate surrounding him he had guessed that -Logie liked him. The thought added to the exultation produced in him by the glory of the -pure morning; and he suddenly fell from his height as he remembered afresh that he was -here to cheat him.</p> - -<p>It was with a shock that he heard Skirling Wattie’s pipes as he reached the Montrose -road, and saw the beggar’s outlandish cart approaching, evidently on its return journey to -Montrose. His heart beat against the report that lay in his pocket awaiting the -opportunity that Fate was bringing nearer every moment. There was nobody to be seen as the -beggar drew up beside him. The insolent joviality that pervaded the man, his almost -indecent oddness—things which had pleased Archie yesterday struck cold on him now. He had -no wish to stay talking to him, and he gave him the paper without a word more than the -injunction to have it despatched.</p> - -<p>He left him, hurrying across the Montrose road and making for the place where the -ground began to fall away to the Basin. He sat down on the scrubby waste land by a -broom-bush, whose dry, burst pods hung like tattered black flags in the brush of green; -their acrid smell was coming out as the sun mounted higher. Below him the marshy ground -ran out to meet the water; and eastward the uncovered mud and wet sand, bared <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-83">[Pg 83]</a></span>by the tide ebbing -beyond Montrose, stretched along its shores to the town.</p> - -<p>The fall of the broom-covered bank was steep enough to hide anyone coming up from the -lower levels, and he listened to the movements of somebody who was approaching, and to the -crackling noise of the bushes as they were thrust apart.</p> - -<p>The sound stopped; and Archie, leaning forward, saw James standing half-way up the -ascent, with his back turned towards him, looking out across the flats. He knew what his -thoughts were. He drew his right sleeve lower. So long as he did not stretch out his arm -the mark could not be seen.</p> - -<p>He did not want to appear as if he were watching Logie, so he made a slight sound, and -the other turned quickly and faced him, hidden from the waist downwards in the broom. Then -his crooked lip moved, and he came up the bank and threw himself down beside -Flemington.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter107"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter107_hdg"><a href="#Chapter107_toc">CHAPTER VII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">TREACHERY</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">J<small>AMES</small> did not look as if he had been up all night, -though he had spent the most part of it on foot with Ferrier. The refreshment of morning -had bathed him too, but he was still harassed in mind by some of the occurrences of the -last few hours. Last night he had seen the mark on the wrist stretched suddenly between -himself and his friend, and had understood its significance. It was the mark that he had -put there. As the two men listened to the flying footsteps that mystified them by their -doublings in the darkness, it had dawned upon them that the intruder skulking behind the -windlass and the tipsy reveller prone in the close were one and the same person. The -drunkard was a very daring spy, as sober as themselves.</p> - -<p>“You are out betimes,” said Archie, with friendly innocence.</p> - -<p>“I often am,” replied James simply.</p> - -<p>Archie pulled up a blade of grass and began to chew it meditatively.</p> - -<p>“I see your long night has done you good,” began Logie. “There were many things I -should <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-85">[Pg 85]</a></span>have liked -to ask you, yesterday evening, but you went away so early that I could not.”</p> - -<p>Silence dropped upon the two: upon Logie, because his companion’s manner last night had -hinted at remembrances buried in regret and painful to dig up; on Flemington, because he -knew the value of that impression, and because he would fain put off the moment when the -more complete deception of the man whose sympathetic attitude he divined and whose -generosity of soul was so obvious, must begin. He did not want to come to close quarters -with James. He had hunted him and been hunted by him, but he had not yet been obliged to -lie to him by word of mouth; and he had no desire to do so, here and now, in cold blood -and in the face of all this beauty and peace.</p> - -<p>“I could not but be interested in what you said,” continued the other. “You did not -tell us whether you had been at St. Germain yourself.”</p> - -<p>“Never!” replied Archie. “I was sent to Scotland at eight years old, and I have been -here ever since.”</p> - -<p>He had taken the plunge now, for he had been backwards and forwards to France several -times in the last few years, since he had begun to work for King George, employed in -watching the movements of suspicious persons between one country and the other.</p> - -<p>He looked down on the ground.</p> - -<p>The more he hesitated to speak, the more he knew that he would impress James. He -understood <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-86">[Pg 86]</a></span>the -delicacy of his companion’s feeling by instinct. It was not only dissimulation which bade -him act thus, it was the real embarrassment and discomfort which were creeping on him -under the eyes of the honourable soldier; all the same, he hoped that his reluctant -silence would save him.</p> - -<p>“You think me impertinent,” said Logie, “but do not be afraid that I mean to pry. I -know how hard life can be and how anxious, nowadays. There is so much loss and trouble—God -knows what may happen to this tormented country! But trouble does not seem natural when a -man is young and light-hearted, as you are.”</p> - -<p>Archie was collecting materials wherewith to screen himself from his companion’s -sympathy. It would be easy to tell him some rigmarole of early suffering, of want endured -for the cause which had lain dormant, yet living, since the unsuccessful rising of the -’15, of the devotion to it of the parents he had scarcely known, of the bitterness of -their exile, but somehow he could not force himself to do it. He remembered those parents -principally as vague people who were ceaselessly playing cards, and whose quarrels had -terrified him when he was small. His real interest in life had begun when he arrived at -Ardguys and made the acquaintance of his grandmother, whose fascination he had felt, in -common with most other male creatures. He had had a joyous youth, and he knew it. He had -run the pastures, climbed the trees, fished the Kilpie burn, <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-87">[Pg 87]</a></span>and known every country pleasure dear to -boyhood. If he had been solitary, he had yet been perfectly happy. He had gone to -Edinburgh at seventeen, at his own ardent wish, to learn painting, not as a profession, -but as a pastime. His prospects were comfortable, for Madam Flemington had made him her -heir, and she had relations settled in England who were always ready to bid him welcome -when he crossed the border. Life had been consistently pleasant, and had grown exciting -since the beginning of his work for Government. He wished to Heaven he had not met James -this morning.</p> - -<p>But to Logie, Archie was merely a youth of undoubted good breeding struggling bravely -for his bread in an almost menial profession, and he honoured him for what he deemed his -courage. There was no need to seek a reason for his poverty after hearing his words last -night. His voice, when he spoke of his father’s death in exile, had implied all that was -necessary to establish a claim on James’s generous and rather bigoted heart. For him, -there were only two kinds of men, those who were for the Stuarts and those who were not. -People were very reticent about their political feelings in those days; some from pure -caution and some because these lay so deep under mountains of personal loss and -misfortune.</p> - -<p>“I dare not look back,” said Archie, at last, “I have to live by my trade and fight the -world with my brush. You live by sticking your sword into its entrails and I by painting -its face a better <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-88">[Pg -88]</a></span>colour than Nature chose for it, and I think yours is the pleasanter calling -of the two. But I am grateful to mine, all the same, and now it has procured me the -acquaintance of his lordship and the pleasure of being where I am. I need not tell you -that I find myself in clover.”</p> - -<p>“I am heartily glad of it,” said James.</p> - -<p>“Indeed, so am I,” rejoined Archie, pleased at having turned the conversation so -deftly, “for you cannot think what strange things happen to a man who has no recognized -place in the minds of respectable people.”</p> - -<p>James rolled over on his chest, leaning on his elbows, and looked up at his companion -sitting just above him with his dark, silky head clear cut against the background of green -bush. The young man’s words seemed to trip out and pirouette with impudent jauntiness in -their hearer’s face. Logie did not know that Archie’s management of these puppets was a -part of his charm. His detached points of view were restful to a man like James, one -continually preoccupied by large issues. It was difficult to think of responsibilities in -Archie’s presence.</p> - -<p>“You might never imagine how much I am admired below stairs!” said the latter. “While I -painted a lady in the south, I was expected to eat with the servants, and the attentions -of a kitchen-girl all but cost me my life. I found a challenge, offering me the choice of -weapons in the most approved manner, under my dish of porridge. It came from a groom.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What did you do?” asked James, astounded.</p> - -<p>“I chose warming-pans,” said Archie, “and that ended the matter.”</p> - -<p>James laughed aloud, but there was bitterness in his mirth. And this was a man born at -St. Germain!</p> - -<p>“We laugh,” said he, “but such a life could have been no laughing matter to you.”</p> - -<p>“But I assure you it was! What else could I do?”</p> - -<p>“You could have left the place——” began James. Then he stopped short, remembering that -beggars cannot be choosers.</p> - -<p>His expression was not lost on Archie, who saw that the boat he had steered so -carefully into the shallows was drawing out to deep water again, and that he had used his -luxuriant imagination to small purpose. He had so little self-consciousness that to keep -James’s interest upon himself was no temptation to him, though it might have been to some -men. He cast about for something wherewith to blot his own figure from the picture.</p> - -<p>“And you,” he said, gravely, “you who think so much of my discomforts, and who have -actually wielded the sword while I have merely threatened to wield the warming-pan—you -must have seen stranger things than the kitchen.”</p> - -<p>“I?” said James, looking fixedly out to where the town steeple threw its reflection on -the wet sand—“yes. I have seen things that I hope you will never see. It is not for me to -speak ill of <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-90">[Pg 90]</a></span>war, -I who have turned to it for consolation as a man may turn to his religion. But war is not -waged against men alone in some countries. I have seen it when it is waged against women -and little children, when it is slaughter, not war. I have seen mothers—young, beautiful -women—fighting like wild beasts for the poor babes that cowered behind their skirts, and I -have seen their bodies afterwards. It would be best to forget—but who can forget?”</p> - -<p>Archie sat still, with eyes from which all levity had vanished. He had known vaguely -that James had fought under Marshal Lacy in the War of the Polish Succession, in the -bloody campaign against the Turks, and again in Finland. The ironic futility of things in -general struck him, for it was absurd to think that this man, seared by war and wise in -the realities of events whose rumours shook Europe, one who had looked upon death daily in -company with men like Peter Lacy, should come home to be hunted down back streets by a -travelling painter. He contemplated his companion with renewed interest; no wonder he was -ruthless in small things. He was decidedly the most fascinating person he had known.</p> - -<p>“And you went to these things <i>for consolation</i>—so you said?”</p> - -<p>“For consolation. For a thing that does not exist,” said the other slowly.</p> - -<p>He paused and turned to his companion with an expression that horrified the young man -and paralyzed his curiosity. The power in his face <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-91">[Pg 91]</a></span>seemed to have given way, revealing, for a -moment, a defencelessness like the defencelessness of a child looking upon the dark; and -it told Archie that there was something that even Logie dreaded and that that something -was memory.</p> - -<p>The deep places he had guessed in James’s soul were deep indeed, and again Flemington -was struck with humility, for his own unimportance in contrast with this experienced man -seemed little less than pitiful. The feeling closed his lips, and he looked round at the -shortening shadows and into the stir of coming sunlight as a man looks round for a door -through which to escape from impending stress. He, who was always ready to go forward, -recoiled because of what he foresaw in himself. His self-confidence was ebbing, for he was -afraid of how much he might be turned out of his way by the influence on him of Logie. He -wished that he could force their talk into a different channel, but his ready wits for -once would not answer the call.</p> - -<p>Something not understood by him was moving James to expression, as reserved men are -compelled towards it at times. Perhaps the bygone youth in him rose up in response to the -youth at his side. The many years dividing him from his brother, the judge, had never -consciously troubled him in their intercourse, but the tremendous divergence in their -respective characters had thrown him back upon himself. Archie seemed to have the power of -turning a key that Balnillo had never held.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> - -<p>“But I am putting you out of conceit with the world,” cried James abruptly; “let no one -do that. Take all you can, Flemington! I did—I took it all. Love, roystering, good -company, good wine, good play—all came to me, and I had my bellyful! There were merry -times in Holland with the Scots Brigade. It was the best part of my life, and I went to it -young. I was sixteen the day I stood up on parade for the first time.”</p> - -<p>“I have often had a mind to invade Holland,” observed Archie, grasping eagerly at the -impersonal part of the subject; “it would be paradise to one of my trade. The very thought -of a windmill weaves a picture for me, and those strange, striped flowers the Dutchmen -raise—I cannot think of their names now—I would give much to see them growing. You must -have seen them in every variety and hue.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, I saw the tulips,” said James, in a strange voice.</p> - -<p>“The Dutchmen can paint them too,” said Archie hurriedly.</p> - -<p>“What devil makes you talk of tulips?” cried James. “Fate painted the tulips for me. -Oh, Flemington, Flemington! In every country, in every march, in every fight, among dead -and dying, and among dancers and the music they danced to, I have seen nothing but those -gaudy flowers—beds of them growing like a woven carpet, and Diane among them!”</p> - -<p>No feminine figure had come into the background <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-93">[Pg 93]</a></span>against which stood Archie’s conception of -Logie.</p> - -<p>“Diane?” he exclaimed involuntarily.</p> - -<p>James did not seem to hear him.</p> - -<p>“Her eyes were like yours,” he went on. “When I saw you come into the light of the -house two evenings since, I thought of her.”</p> - -<p>Neither spoke for a few moments; then James went on again:</p> - -<p>“Fourteen years since the day I saw her last! She looked out at me from the window with -her eyes full of tears. The window was filled with flowers—she loved them. The tulips were -there again—crimson tulips—with her white face behind them.”</p> - -<p>Flemington listened with parted lips. His personal feelings, his shrinking dread of -being drawn into the confidence of the man whom it was his business to betray, were -swallowed by a wave of interest.</p> - -<p>“I was no more than a boy, with my head full of cards and women and horses, and every -devilry under heaven, when I went to the house among the canals. The Conte de Montdelys -had built it, for he lived in Holland a part of the year to grow his tulips. He was a rich -man—a hard, old, pinched Frenchman—but his passion was tulip-growing, and their -cultivation was a new thing. It was a great sight to see the gardens he had planned at the -water’s edge, with every colour reflected from the beds, and the green-shuttered house in -the middle. Even the young men of the Brigade<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-94">[Pg 94]</a></span> were glad to spend an afternoon looking upon the show, and -the Conte would invite now one, now another. He loved to strut about exhibiting his -gardens. Diane was his daughter—my poor Diane! Flemington, do I weary you?”</p> - -<p>“No, no, indeed!” cried Archie, who had been lost, wandering in an enchanted labyrinth -of bloom and colour as he listened. The image of the house rising from among its waterways -was as vivid to him as if he had seen it with bodily eyes.</p> - -<p>“She was so young,” said the soldier, “so gentle, so little suited to such as I. But -she loved me—God knows why—and she was brave—brave to the end, as she lay dying by the -roadside . . . and sending me her love. . . .”</p> - -<p>He stopped and turned away; Archie could say nothing, for his throat had grown thick. -Logie’s unconscious gift of filling his words with drama—a gift which is most often given -to those who suspect it least—wrought on him.</p> - -<p>James looked round, staring steadily and blindly over his companion’s shoulder.</p> - -<p>“I took her away,” he went on, as though describing another man’s experiences; “there -was no choice, for the Conte would not tolerate me. I was a Protestant, and I was poor, -and there was a rich Spaniard whom he favoured. So we went. We were married in Breda, and -for a year we lived in peace. Such days—such days! The Conte made no sign, and I thought, -in my folly, he would let us alone. It seemed as though <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-95">[Pg 95]</a></span>we had gained paradise at last; but I did -not know him—Montdelys.”</p> - -<p>“Then the boy was born. When he was two months old I was obliged to come back to -Scotland; it was a matter concerning money which could not be delayed, for my little -fortune had to be made doubly secure now, and I got leave from my regiment. I could not -take Diane and the child, and I left them at Breda—safe, as I thought. At twenty-three we -do not know men, not the endless treachery of them. Flemington, when God calls us all to -judgment, there will be no mercy for treachery.”</p> - -<p>Archie’s eyes, fixed on the other pair, whose keen grey light was blurred with pain, -dropped. He breathed hard, and his nostrils quivered.</p> - -<p>“You seem to me as young as I was then. May God preserve you from man’s treachery. He -did not preserve me,” said James.</p> - -<p>“I do not know how Montdelys knew that she was defenceless,” continued he, “but I think -there must have been some spy of his watching us. As soon as I had left Holland he sent to -her to say he was ill, probably dying, and that he had forgiven all. He longed for the -sight of the boy, and he asked her to bring him that he might see his grandchild; she was -to make her home with him while I was absent, and he would send word to me to join them on -my return. Diane sent me the good news and went, fearing nothing, to find herself a -prisoner.</p> - -<p>“And all this time he had been working—he <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-96">[Pg 96]</a></span>and the Spaniard—to get the Pope to annul our marriage, and -they had succeeded. What they said to her, what they did, I know not, and never shall -know, but they could not shake Diane. I was on my way back to Holland when she managed to -escape with the boy. Storms in the North Sea delayed me, but I was not disturbed, knowing -her to be safe. I did not know when I landed at last that she was dead. . . . -She swam the canal, Flemington, with the child tied on her shoulders, and the -brother-officer of mine—a man in my own company, whom she had contrived to communicate -with—was waiting for her with a carriage. My regiment had moved to Bergen-op-Zoom, and he -meant to take her there. He had arranged it with the wife of my colonel, who was to give -her shelter till I arrived, and could protect her myself. They had gone more than half-way -to Bergen when they were overtaken, early in the morning. She was shot, Flemington. The -bullet was meant for Carmichael, the man who was with her, but it struck Diane. -. . . They laid her on the grass at the roadside and she died, holding -Carmichael’s hand, and sending—sending——”</p> - -<p>He stopped.</p> - -<p>“And the child?” said Archie at last.</p> - -<p>“Carmichael brought him to Bergen, with his mother. He did not live. The bullet had -grazed his poor little body as he lay in her arms, and the exposure did the rest. They are -buried at Bergen.”</p> - -<p>Again Archie was speechless.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I killed the Spaniard,” said James. “I could not reach Montdelys; he was too old to be -able to settle his differences in the world of men.”</p> - -<p>Archie did not know what to do. He longed with a bitter longing to show his companion -something of what he felt, to give him some sign of the passion of sympathy which had -shaken him as he listened; but his tongue was tied fast by the blighting knowledge of his -true position, and to approach, by so much as a step, seemed only to blacken his soul and -to load it yet more heavily with a treachery as vile as that which had undone James.</p> - -<p>“I could not endure Holland afterwards,” continued Logie; “once I had looked on that -Spanish hound’s dead body my work was done. I left the Scots Brigade and took service with -Russia, and I joined Peter Lacy, who was on his way to fight in Poland. Fighting was all I -wanted, and God knows I had it. I did not want to be killed, but to kill. Then I grew -weary of that, but I still stayed with Lacy, and followed him to fight the Turks. We -outlive trouble in time, Flemington; we outlive it, though we cannot outlive memory. We -outlast it—that is a better word. I have outlasted, perhaps outlived. I can turn and look -back upon myself as though I were another being. It is only when some chance word or -circumstance brings my youth back in detail that I can scarce bear it. You have brought it -back, Flemington, and this morning I am face to face with it again.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p> - -<p>“It does not sound as if you had outlived it,” said the young man.</p> - -<p>“Life is made of many things,” said James; “whether we have lost our all or not, we -have to plough on to the end, and it is best to plough on merrily. Lacy never complained -of me as a companion in the long time we were together, for I was on his staff, and I took -all that came to me, as I have done always. There were some mad fellows among us, and I -was no saner than they! But life is quiet enough here in the year since I came home to my -good brother.”</p> - -<p>The mention of Lord Balnillo made Flemington start.</p> - -<p>“Gad!” he exclaimed, rising, thankful for escape, “and I am to begin the portrait this -morning, and have set out none of my colours!”</p> - -<p>“And I have gone breakfastless,” said Logie with a smile, “and worse than that, I have -spoilt the sunshine for you with my tongue, that should have been silent.”</p> - -<p>“No, no!” burst out Flemington rather hoarsely. “Don’t think of that! If you only -knew——”</p> - -<p>He stood, unable to finish his sentence or to utter one word of comfort without -plunging deeper into self-abhorrence.</p> - -<p>“I must go,” he stammered. “I must leave you and run.”</p> - -<p>James laid a detaining hand on him.</p> - -<p>“Listen, Flemington,” he said. “Listen before you go. We have learnt something of each -other, you and I. Promise me that if ever you should <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-99">[Pg 99]</a></span>find yourself in such a position as the one -you spoke of—if you should come to such a strait as that—if a little help could make you -free, you will come to me as if I were your brother. Your eyes are so like Diane’s—you -might well be hers.”</p> - -<p>Archie stood before him, dumb, as James held out his hand.</p> - -<p>He grasped it for a moment, and then turned from him in a tumult of horror and -despair.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter108"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter108_hdg"><a href="#Chapter108_toc">CHAPTER VIII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE HEAVY HAND</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">I<small>T</small> was on the following day that Lord Balnillo stood in -front of a three-quarter length canvas in the improvised studio; Archie had begun to put -on the colour that morning, and the judge had come quietly upstairs to study the first -dawnings of his own countenance alone. From the midst of a chaos of paint his features -were beginning to appear, like the sun through a fog. He had brought a small hand-glass -with him, tucked away under his velvet coat where it could not be seen, and he now -produced it and began to compare his face with the one before him. Flemington was a quick -worker, and though he had been given only two sittings, there was enough on the canvas to -prompt the gratified smile on the old man’s lips. He looked alternately at his reflection -and at the judicial figure on the easel; Archie had a tactful brush. But though Balnillo -was pleased, he could not help sighing, for he wished fervently that his ankles had been -included in the picture. He stooped and ran his hand lovingly down his silk stockings. -Then he <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-101"> [Pg -101]</a></span>took up the glass again and began to compose his expression into the rather -more lofty one with which Flemington had supplied him.</p> - -<p>In the full swing of his occupation he turned round to find the painter standing in the -doorway, but he was just too late to catch the sudden flash of amusement that played -across Archie’s face as he saw what the judge was doing. Balnillo thrust the glass out of -sight and confronted his guest.</p> - -<p>“I thought you had gone for a stroll, sir,” he said rather stiffly.</p> - -<p>“My lord,” exclaimed Flemington, “I have been searching for you everywhere. I’ve come, -with infinite regret, to tell you that I must return to Ardguys at once.”</p> - -<p>Balnillo’s jaw dropped.</p> - -<p>“I have just met a messenger on the road,” said the other; “he has brought news that my -grandmother is taken ill, and I must hurry home. It is most unfortunate, most -disappointing; but go I must.”</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut, tut!” exclaimed the old man, clicking his tongue against his teeth and -forgetting to hope, as politeness decreed he should, that the matter was not serious.</p> - -<p>“It is a heart-attack,” said Archie.</p> - -<p>“Tut, tut,” said Balnillo again. “I am most distressed to hear it; I am indeed.”</p> - -<p>“I <i>may</i> be able to come back and finish the picture later.”</p> - -<p>“I hope so. I sincerely hope so. I was just studying the admirable likeness when you -came <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-102">[Pg 102]</a></span>in,” said -Balnillo, who would have given a great deal to know how much of his posturing Flemington -had seen.</p> - -<p>“Ah, my lord!” cried Archie, “a poor devil like me has no chance with you! I saw the -mirror in your hand. We painters use a piece of looking-glass to correct our drawing, but -it is few of our sitters who know that trick.”</p> - -<p>Guilty dismay was chased by relief across Balnillo’s countenance.</p> - -<p>“You are too clever for me!” laughed Flemington. “How did you learn it, may I ask?”</p> - -<p>But Balnillo had got his presence of mind back.</p> - -<p>“Casually, Mr. Flemington, casually—as one learns many things, if one keeps one’s ears -open,” said he.</p> - -<p>A couple of hours later Archie was on his way home. He had left one horse, still -disabled, in the judge’s stable, and he was riding the other into Brechin, where he would -get a fresh one to take him on. Balnillo had persuaded him to leave his belongings where -they were until he knew what chance there was of an early return. He had parted from -Archie with reluctance. Although the portrait was the old man’s principal interest, its -maker counted for much with him; for it was some time since his ideas had been made to -move as they always moved in Flemington’s presence. The judge got much pleasure out of his -own curiosity; and the element of the unexpected—that fascinating factor which had been -introduced into domestic life—was a continual <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-103">[Pg 103]</a></span>joy. Balnillo had missed it more than he knew since he -had become a completely rural character.</p> - -<p>Archie saw the Basin of Montrose drop behind him as he rode away with a stir of mixed -feelings. The net that Logie had, in all ignorance, spread for him had entangled his feet. -He had never conceived a like situation, and it startled him to discover that a -difficulty, nowhere touching the tangible, could be so potent, so disastrous. He felt like -a man who has been tripped up and who suddenly finds himself on the ground. He had risen -and fled.</p> - -<p>The position had become intolerable. He told himself in his impetuous way that it was -more than he could bear; and now, every bit of luck he had turned to account, every -precaution he had taken, all the ingenuity he had used to land himself in the hostile -camp, were to go for nothing, because some look in his face, some droop of the eyes, had -reminded another man of his own past, and had let loose in him an overwhelming impulse to -expression.</p> - -<p>“Remember what I told you yesterday,” had been James’s last words as Flemington put his -foot in the stirrup. “There must be no more challenges.”</p> - -<p>It was that high-coloured flower of his own imagination, the picture of himself in the -servants’ hall, that had finally accomplished his defeat. How could he betray the man who -was ready to share his purse with him?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> - -<p>And, putting the matter of the purse aside, his painter’s imagination was set alight. -The glow of the tulips and the strange house by the winding water, the slim vision of -Diane de Montdelys, the gallant background of the Scots Brigade, the grave at -Bergen-op-Zoom—these things were like a mirage behind the figure of James. The power of -seeing things picturesquely is a gift that can turn into a curse, and that power worked on -his emotional and imaginative side now. And furthermore, beyond what might be called the -ornamental part of his difficulty, he realized that friendship with James, had he been -free to offer or to accept it, would have been a lifelong prize.</p> - -<p>They had spent the preceding day together after the sitting was over, and though Logie -had opened his heart no more, and their talk had been of the common interests of men’s -lives, it had strengthened Archie’s resolve to end the situation and to save himself while -there was yet time. There was nothing for it but flight. He had told the judge that he -would try to return, but he did not mean to enter the gates of Balnillo again, not while -the country was seething with Prince Charlie’s plots; perhaps never. He would remember -James all his life, but he hoped that their ways might never cross again. And, behind -that, there was regret; regret for the friend who might have been his, who, in his secret -heart, would be his always.</p> - -<p>He could, even now, hardly realize that he had <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-105">[Pg 105]</a></span>been actually turned from his purpose. It seemed to him -incredible. But there was one thing more incredible still, and that was that he could -raise his hand to strike again at the man who had been stricken so terribly, and with the -same weapon of betrayal. It would be as if James lay wounded on a battle-field and he -should come by to stab him anew. The blow he should deal him would have nothing to do with -the past, but Archie felt that James had so connected him in mind with the memory of the -woman he resembled—had, by that one burst of confidence, given him so much part in the -sacred kingdom of remembrance wherein she dwelt—that it would be almost as if something -from out of the past had struck at him across her grave.</p> - -<p>Archie sighed, weary and sick with Fate’s ironic jests. There were some things he could -not do.</p> - -<p>The two men had avoided politics. Though Flemington’s insinuations had conveyed to the -brothers that he was like-minded with themselves, the Prince’s name was not mentioned. -There was so much brewing in James’s brain that the very birds of the air must not hear. -Sorry as he was when Flemington met him with the news of his unexpected recall, he had -decided that it was well the young man should go. When this time of stress was over, -when—and if—the cause he served should prevail, he would seek out Archie. The “if” was -very clear to James, for he had seen enough of men and causes, of troops and campaigns and -the practical difficulties <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-106">[Pg -106]</a></span>of great movements, to know that he was spending himself in what might well -be a forlorn hope. But none the less was he determined to see it through, for his heart -was deep in it, and besides that, he had the temperament that is attracted by forlorn -hopes.</p> - -<p>He was a reticent man, in spite of the opening of that page in his life which he had -laid before Flemington; and reticent characters are often those most prone to rare and -unexpected bouts of self-revelation. But when the impulse is past, and the load ever -present with them has been lightened for a moment, they will thrust it yet farther back -behind the door of their lips, and give the key a double turn. He had enjoined Flemington -to come to him as he would come to a brother for assistance, and it had seemed to Archie -that life would have little more to offer had it only given him a brother like James. A -cloud was on his spirit as he neared Brechin.</p> - -<p>When he left the inn and would have paid the landlord, he thrust his hand into his -pocket to discover a thin sealed packet at the bottom of it; he drew it out, and found to -his surprise that, though his name was on it, it was unopened, and that he had never seen -it before. While he turned it over something told him that the unknown handwriting it bore -was that of James Logie. The coat he wore had hung in the hall at Balnillo since the -preceding night, and the packet must have been slipped into it before he started.</p> - -<p>As he rode along he broke the seal. The paper <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-107">[Pg 107]</a></span>it contained had neither beginning nor signature, yet he -knew that his guess was right.</p> - -<div class="letter"> -<p>“You will be surprised at finding this,” he read, “but I wish you to read it when there -are some miles between us. In these disturbed days it is not possible to tell when we may -meet again. Should you return, I may be here or I may be gone God knows where, and for -reasons of which I need not speak, my brother may be the last man to know where I am. But -for the sake of all I spoke of yesterday, I ask you to believe that I am your friend. Do -not forget that, in any strait, I am at your back. Because it is true, I give you these -two directions: a message carried to Rob Smith’s Tavern in the Castle Wynd at Stirling -will reach me eventually, wheresoever I am. Nearer home you may hear of me also. There is -a little house on the Muir of Pert, the only house on the north side of the Muir, a mile -west of the fir-wood. The man who lives there is in constant touch with me. If you should -find yourself in urgent need, I will send you the sum of one hundred pounds through -him.</p> - -<p>“Flemington, you will make no hesitation in the matter. You will take it for the sake -of one I have spoken of to none but you, these years and years past.”</p> -</div> - -<p>And now he had to go home and to tell Madam Flemington that he had wantonly thrown away -all the advantages gained in the last three days, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-108">[Pg 108]</a></span>that he had tossed them to the wind for a mere -sentimental scruple! So far he had never quarrelled with his occupation; but now, because -it had brought him up against a soldier of fortune whose existence he had been unaware of -a few weeks ago, he had sacrificed it and played a sorry trick on his own prospects at the -same time. He was trusted and valued by his own party, and, in spite of his youth, had -given it excellent service again and again. He could hardly expect the determined woman -who had made him what he was to see eye to eye with him.</p> - -<p>Christian Flemington had kept her supremacy over her grandson. Parental authority was a -much stronger thing in the mid-eighteenth century than it is now, and she stood in the -position of a parent to him. His French blood and her long residence in France had made -their relationship something like that of a French mother and son, and she had all his -confidence in his young man’s scrapes, for she recognized phases of life that are apt to -be ignored by English parents in dealing with their children. She had cut him loose from -her apron-strings early, but she had moulded him with infinite care before she let him go. -There was a touch of genius in Archie, a flicker of what she called the <i>feu sacré</i>, -and she had kept it burning before her own shrine. The fine unscrupulousness that was her -main characteristic, her manner of breasting the tide of circumstance full sail, awed and -charmed him. For all his boldness and initiative, his devil-may-care <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-109">[Pg 109]</a></span>independence of will, -and his originality in the conduct of his affairs, he had never freed his inner self from -her thrall, and she held him by the strong impression she had made on his imagination -years and years ago. She had set her mark upon the plastic character of the little boy -whom she had beaten for painting Mr. Duthie’s gate-post. That was an episode which he had -never forgotten, which he always thought of with a smile; and while he remembered the -sting of her cane, he also remembered her masterly routing of his enemy before she applied -it. She had punished him with the thoroughness that was hers, but she had never allowed -the minister to know what she had done. Technically she had been on the side of the -angels, but in reality she had stood by the culprit. In spirit they had resented Mr. -Duthie together.</p> - -<p>He slept at Forfar that night, and pushed on again next morning; and as he saw the old -house across the dip, and heard the purl of the burn at the end of his journey, something -in his heart failed him. The liquid whisper of the water through the fine, rushlike grass -spoke to him of childhood and of the time when there was no world but Ardguys, no monarch -but Madam Flemington. He seemed to feel her influence coming out to meet him at every step -his horse took. How could he tell his news? How could he explain what he had done? They -had never touched on ethical questions, he and she.</p> - -<p>As he came up the muddy road between the <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-110">[Pg 110]</a></span>ash-trees he felt the chilly throe, the intense spiritual -discomfort, that attends our plunges from one atmosphere into another. It is the penalty -of those who live their lives with every nerve and fibre, who take fervent part in the -lives of other people, to suffer acutely in the struggle to loose themselves from an -environment they have just quitted, and to meet an impending one without distress. But it -is no disproportionate price to pay for learning life as a whole. Also, it is the only -price accepted.</p> - -<p>He put his horse into the stable and went to the garden, being told that Madam -Flemington was there. The day was warm and bright, and as he swung the gate to behind him -he saw her sitting on a seat at the angle of the farther wall. She rose at the click of -the latch, and came up the grass path to meet him between a line of espalier apple-trees -and a row of phlox on which October had still left a few red and white blossoms.</p> - -<p>The eighteen years that had gone by since the episode of the manse gate-post had not -done much to change her appearance. The shrinking and obliterating of personality which -comes with the passing of middle life had not begun its work on her, and at sixty-one she -was more imposing than ever. She had grown a great deal stouter, but the distribution of -flesh had been even, and she carried her bulk with a kind of self-conscious triumph, as a -ship carries her canvas. A brown silk mantle woven with a pattern of flower-bouquets <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-111">[Pg 111]</a></span>was round her -shoulders, and she held its thick folds together with one hand; in the other she carried -the book she had been reading. Her hair was as abundant as ever, and had grown no whiter. -The sun struck on its silver, and red flashes came from the rubies in her ears.</p> - -<p>She said nothing as Archie approached, but her eyes spoke inquiry and a shadow of -softness flickered over so slightly round her broad lips. She was pleased to see him, but -the shadow was caused less by her affection for him than by her appreciation of the -charming figure he presented, seen thus suddenly and advancing with so much grace of -movement in the sunlight. She stopped short when he was within a few steps of her, and, -dropping her book upon the ground without troubling to see where it fell, held out her -hand for him to kiss. He touched it with his lips, and then, thrusting his arm into the -phlox-bushes, drew out the volume that had landed among them. From between the leaves -dropped a folded paper, on which he recognized his own handwriting.</p> - -<p>“This is a surprise,” said Madam Flemington, looking her grandson up and down.</p> - -<p>“I have ridden. My baggage is left at Balnillo.”</p> - -<p>The moment of explanation would have to come, but his desire was to put it off as long -as possible.</p> - -<p>“There is your letter between the pages of my book,” said she. “It came to me this -morning, and I was reading it again. It gave me immense pleasure, Archie. I suppose you -have come to <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-112">[Pg -112]</a></span>search for the clothes you mentioned. I am glad to see you, my dear; but it -is a long ride to take for a few pairs of stockings.”</p> - -<p>“You should see Balnillo’s hose!” exclaimed Flemington hurriedly. “I’ll be bound the -old buck’s spindle-shanks cost him as much as his estate. If he had as many legs as a -centipede he would have them all in silk.”</p> - -<p>“And not a petticoat about the place?”</p> - -<p>“None nearer than the kitchen.”</p> - -<p>“He should have stayed in Edinburgh,” said Madam Flemington, laughing.</p> - -<p>She loved Archie’s society.</p> - -<p>“I hear that this Captain Logie is one of the most dangerous rebels in Scotland,” she -went on. “If you can lay him by the heels it is a service that will not be forgotten. So -far you have done mighty well, Archie.”</p> - -<p>They had reached the gate, and she laid her hand on his arm.</p> - -<p>“Turn back,” she said. “I must consult you. I suppose that now you will be kept for -some time at Balnillo? That nest of treason, Montrose, will give you occupation, and you -must stretch out the portrait to match your convenience. I am going to take advantage of -it too. I shall go to Edinburgh while you are away.”</p> - -<p>“To Edinburgh?” exclaimed Flemington.</p> - -<p>“Why not, pray?”</p> - -<p>“But you leave Ardguys so seldom. It is years——”</p> - -<p>“The more reason I should go now,” interrupted <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-113">[Pg 113]</a></span>she. “Among other things, I must see my man of business, -and I have decided to do it now. I shall be more useful to you in Edinburgh, too. I have -been too long out of personal touch with those who can advance your interests. I had a -letter from Edinburgh yesterday; you are better thought of there than you suspect, Archie. -I did not realize how important a scoundrel this man Logie is, nor what your despatch to -Montrose implied.”</p> - -<p>He was silent, looking on the ground.</p> - -<p>She knew every turn of Archie’s manner, every inflection of his voice. There was a -gathering sign of opposition on his face—the phantom of some mood that must not be allowed -to gain an instant’s strength. It flashed on her that he had not returned merely to fetch -his clothes. There was something wrong. She knew that at this moment he was afraid of her, -he who was afraid of nothing else.</p> - -<p>She stopped in the path and drew herself up, considering where she should strike. -Never, never had she failed to bring him to his bearings. There was only one fitting place -for him, and that was in the hollow of her hand.</p> - -<p>“Grandmother, I shall not go back to Balnillo,” said he vehemently.</p> - -<p>If the earth had risen up under her feet Madam Flemington could not have been more -astonished. She stood immovable, looking at him, whilst an inward voice, flying through -her mind like a snatch of broken sound, told her that she must <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-114">[Pg 114]</a></span>keep her head. She made no feeble mistake -in that moment, for she saw the vital importance of the conflict impending between them -with clear eyes. She knew her back to be nearer the wall than it had been yet. Her mind -was as agile as her body was by nature indolent, and it was always ready to turn in any -direction and look any foe squarely in the face. She was startled, but she could not be -shaken.</p> - -<p>“I’ve left Balnillo for good,” said he again. “I cannot go back—I will not!”</p> - -<p>“You—<i>will not?</i>” said Christian, half closing her eyes. The pupils had -contracted, and looked like tiny black beads set in a narrow glitter of grey. “Is that -what you have come home to say to <i>me?</i>”</p> - -<p>“It is impossible!” he cried, turning away and flinging out his arms. “It is more than -I can do! I will not go man-hunting after Logie. I will go anywhere else, do anything -else, but not that!”</p> - -<p>“There is nothing else for you to do.”</p> - -<p>“Then I will come back here.”</p> - -<p>“That you will not,” said Christian.</p> - -<p>He drew in his breath as if he had been struck.</p> - -<p>“What are you that you should betray me, and yet think to force yourself on me without -my resenting it? What do you think I am that I should suffer it?”</p> - -<p>She laughed.</p> - -<p>“I have not betrayed you,” said he in a husky voice.</p> - -<p>The loyal worship he had given her unquestioning <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-115">[Pg 115]</a></span>through the long dependence and the small -but poignant vicissitudes of childhood came back on him like a returning tide and doubled -the cruelty of her words. She was the one person against whom he felt unable to defend -himself. He loved her truly, and the thought of absolute separation from her came over him -like a chill.</p> - -<p>“I did not think you could speak to me in this way. It is terrible!” he said. His dark -eyes were full of pain. He spoke as simply as a little boy.</p> - -<p>Satisfaction stole back to her. She had not lost her hold on him, would not lose it. -Another woman might have flung an affectionate word into the balance to give the final -clip to the scale, but she never thought of doing that; neither impulse nor calculation -suggested it, because affection was not the weapon she was accustomed to trust. Her faith -was in the heavy hand. Her generalship was good enough to tell her the exact moment of -wavering in the enemy in front, the magic instant for a fresh attack.</p> - -<p>“You are a bitter disappointment,” she said. “Life has brought me many, but you are the -greatest. I have had to go without some necessities in my time, and I now shall have to go -without you. But I can do it, and I will.”</p> - -<p>“You mean that you will turn from me altogether?”</p> - -<p>“Am I not plain enough? I can be plainer if you like. You shall go out of this house -and go where you will. I do not care where you go. <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-116">[Pg 116]</a></span>But you are forgetting that I have some -curiosity. I wish to understand what has happened to you since you wrote your letter. That -is excusable, surely.”</p> - -<p>“It is Logie,” said he. “He has made it impossible for me. I cannot cheat a man who has -given me all his confidence.”</p> - -<p>“He gave you his confidence?” cried Madam Flemington. “Heavens! He is well served, that -stage-puppet Prince, when his servants confide in the first stranger they meet! Captain -Logie must be a man of honour!”</p> - -<p>“He is,” said Archie. “It was his own private confidence he gave me. I heard his own -history from his own lips, and, knowing it, I cannot go on deceiving him. I like him too -much.”</p> - -<p>Madam Flemington was confounded. The difficulty seemed so strangely puerile. A whim, a -fancy, was to ruin the work of years and turn everything upside down. On the top, she was -exasperated with Archie, but underneath, it was worse. She found her influence and her -power at stake, and her slave was being wrested from her, in spite of every interest which -had bound them together. She loved him with a jealous, untender love that was dependent on -outward circumstances, and she was proud of him. She had smiled at his devotion to her as -she would have smiled with gratified comprehension at the fidelity of a favourite dog, -understanding the creature’s justifiable feeling, and knowing how creditable it was to its -intelligence.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> - -<p>“What has all this to do with your duty?” she demanded.</p> - -<p>“My duty is too hard,” he cried. “I cannot do it, grandmother!”</p> - -<p>“<i>Too hard!</i>” she exclaimed. “Pah! you weary me—you disgust me. I am sick of you, -Archie!”</p> - -<p>His lip quivered, and he met her eyes with a mist of dazed trouble in his own. A black -curtain seemed to be falling between them.</p> - -<p>“I told him every absurdity I could imagine,” said he. “I made him believe that I was -dependent upon my work for my daily bread. I did not think he would take my lies as he -did. His kindness was so great—so generous! Grandmother, he would have had me promise to -go to him for help. How can I spy upon him and cheat him after that?”</p> - -<p>He stopped. He could not tell her more, for he knew that the mention of the hundred -pounds would but make her more angry; the details of what Logie had written could be given -to no one. He was only waiting for an opportunity to destroy the paper he carried.</p> - -<p>“We have to do with principles, not men,” said Madam Flemington. “He is a rebel to his -King. If I thought you were so much as dreaming of going over to those worthless Stuarts, -I would never see you nor speak to you again. I would sooner see you dead. Is <i>that</i> -what is in your mind?”</p> - -<p>“There is nothing farther from my thoughts,” said he. “I can have no part with rebels. -I am <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-118">[Pg 118]</a></span>a Whig, and -I shall always be a Whig. I have told you the plain truth.”</p> - -<p>“And now <i>I</i> will tell you the plain truth,” said Madam Flemington. “While I am -alive you will not enter Ardguys. When you cut yourself off from me you will do so -finally. I will have no half-measures as I have no half-sentiments. I have bred you up to -support King George’s interests against the whole band of paupers at St. Germain, that you -may pay a part of the debt of injury they laid upon me and mine. Mary Beatrice took my son -from me. You do not know what you have to thank her for, Archie, but I will tell you now! -You have to thank her that your mother was a girl of the people—of the streets—a slut -taken into the palace out of charity. She was forced on my son by the Queen and her -favourite, Lady Despard. That was how they rewarded us, my husband and me, for our -fidelity! He was in his grave, and knew nothing, but I was there. I am here still, and I -remember still!”</p> - -<p>The little muscles round her strong lips were quivering.</p> - -<p>Archie had never seen Madam Flemington so much disturbed, and it was something of a -shock to him to find that the power he had known always as self-dependent, aloof, -unruffled, could be at the mercy of so much feeling.</p> - -<p>“Lady Despard was one of that Irish rabble that followed King James along with better -people, a woman given over to prayers and confessions and priests. She is dead, thank God! -It <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-119">[Pg 119]</a></span>was she who -took your mother out of the gutter, where she sang from door to door, meaning to make a -nun of her, for her voice was remarkable, and she and her priests would have trained her -for a convent choir. But the girl had no stomach for a nunnery; the backstairs of the -palace pleased her better, and the Queen took her into her household, and would have her -sing to her in her own chamber. She was handsome, too, and she hid the devil that was in -her from the women. The men knew her better, and the Chevalier and your father knew her -best of all. But at last Lady Despard got wind of it. They dared not turn her into the -streets for fear of the priests, and to save her own son the Queen sacrificed mine.”</p> - -<p>She stopped, looking to see the effect of her words. Archie was very pale.</p> - -<p>“Is my true name Flemington?” he asked abruptly.</p> - -<p>“You are my own flesh and blood,” said she, “or you would not be standing here. Their -fear was that the Chevalier would marry her privately, but they got him out of the way, -and your father seduced the girl. Then, to make the Chevalier doubly safe, they forced him -to make her his wife—he who was only nineteen! They did it secretly, but when the marriage -was known, I would not receive her, and I left the court and went to Rouen. I have lived -ever since in the hope of seeing the Stuarts swept from the earth. Your father is gone, -and you are all I have left, but you shall go too if you join yourself to them.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-120">[Pg 120]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I shall not do that,” said he.</p> - -<p>“Do you understand now what it costs me to see you turn back?” said Madam -Flemington.</p> - -<p>The mantle had slipped from her shoulders, and her white hands, crossed at the wrists, -lay with the fingers along her arms. She stood trying to dissect the component parts of -his trouble and to fashion something out of them on which she might make a new attack. -Forces outside her own understanding were at work in him which were strong enough to take -the fine edge of humiliation off the history she had just told him; she guessed their -presence, unseen though they were, and her acute practical mind was searching for them. -She was like an astronomer whose telescope is turned on the tract of sky in which, as his -science tells him, some unknown body will arise.</p> - -<p>She had always taken his pride of race for granted, as she took her own. The influx of -the base blood of the “slut” had been a mortification unspeakable, but to Madam -Flemington, the actual treachery practised on her had not been the crowning insult. The -thing was bad, but the manner of its doing was worse, for the Queen and Lady Despard had -used young Flemington as though he had been of no account. The Flemingtons had served -James Stuart whole-heartedly, taking his evil fortunes as though they had been their own; -they had done it of their own free will, high-handedly. But Mary Beatrice and her -favourite had treated Christian <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-121">[Pg -121]</a></span>and her son as slaves, chattels to be sacrificed to the needs of their -owner. There was enough nobility in Christian to see that part of the business as its -blackest spot.</p> - -<p>She had kept the knowledge of it from Archie, because she had the instinct common to -all savage creatures (and Christian’s affinity with savage creatures was a close one) for -the concealment of desperate wounds. Her silks, her ruby earrings, her physical indolence, -her white hands, all the refinements that had accrued to her in her world-loving life, all -that went to make the outward presentment of the woman, was the mere ornamental covering -of the savage in her. That savage watched Archie now.</p> - -<p>Madam Flemington was removed by two generations from Archie, and there was a gulf of -evolution between them, unrealized by either. Their conscious ideals might be identical; -but their unconscious ideals, those that count with nations and with individuals, were -different. And the same trouble, one that might be accepted and acknowledged by each, must -affect each differently. The old regard a tragedy through its influences on the past, and -the young through its influences on the future. To Archie, Madam Flemington’s revelation -was an insignificant thing compared to the horror that was upon him now. It was done and -it could not be undone, and he was himself, with his life before him, in spite of it. It -was like the withered leaf of a poisonous plant, a thing rendered innocuous by <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-122">[Pg 122]</a></span>the processes of -nature. What process of nature could make his agony innocuous? The word ‘treachery’ had -become a nightmare to him, and on every side he was fated to hear it.</p> - -<p>Its full meaning had only been brought home to him two days ago, and now the hateful -thing was being pressed on him by one who had suffered from it bitterly. What could he say -to her? How was he to make her see as he saw? His difficulty was a sentimental one, and -one that she would not recognize.</p> - -<p>Archie was not logical. He had still not much feeling about having deceived Lord -Balnillo, whose hospitality he had accepted and enjoyed, but, as he had said, he could not -go “man-hunting” after James, who had offered him a brother’s help, whose heart he had -seen, whose life had already been cut in two by the baneful thing. There was little room -in Archie’s soul for anything but the shadow of that nightmare of treachery, and the -shadow was creeping towards him. Had his mother been a grand-duchess of spotless -reputation, what could her virtue or her blue blood avail him in his present distress? She -was nothing to him, that “slut” who had brought him forth; he owed her no allegiance, bore -her no grudge. The living woman to whom he owed all stood before him beloved, admired, -cutting him to the heart.</p> - -<p>He assented silently; but Christian understood that, though he looked as if she had -carried her point, his looks were the only really unreliable part <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-123">[Pg 123]</a></span>of him. She knew that he was that curious -thing—a man who could keep his true self separate from his moods. It had taken her years -to learn that, but she had learnt it at last.</p> - -<p>For once she was, like other people, baffled by his naturalness. It was plain that he -suffered, yet she could not tell how she was to mould the hard stuff hidden below his -suffering. But she must work with the heavy hand.</p> - -<p>“You will leave here to-morrow,” she said; “you shall not stay here to shirk your -duty”; and again the pupils of her eyes contracted as she said it.</p> - -<p>“I will go now,” said he.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter109"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter109_hdg"><a href="#Chapter109_toc">CHAPTER IX<br /> -“<span class="chap_title">TOUJOURS DE L</span>’<span class="chap_title">AUDACE</span>”</a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">“D<small>OAG</small>,” said the beggar, addressing the yellow cur, -“you an’ me’ll need to be speerin’ aboot this. Whiles, it’s no sae easy tellin’ havers -frae truth.”</p> - -<p>Though Skirling Wattie was on good terms with the whole of his team, the member of it -whom he singled out for complete confidence, whom he regarded as an employer might regard -the foreman of a working gang, was the yellow cur. The abuse he poured over the heads of -his servants was meant more as incentive than as rebuke, and he fed them well, sharing his -substance honestly with them, and looking to them for arduous service in return. They were -a faithful, intelligent lot, good-tempered, but for one of the collies, and the accepted -predominance of the yellow cur was merely one more illustration of the triumph of -personality. His golden eyes, clear, like unclouded amber, contrasted with the thick and -vulgar yellow of his close coat, and the contrast was like that between spirit and flesh. -He was a strong, untiring creature, with blunt jaws and legs that seemed to be made of -steel, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-125">[Pg 125]</a></span>and it -was characteristic of him that he seldom laid down but at night, and would stand turned in -his traces as though waiting for orders, looking towards his master as the latter sang or -piped, whilst his comrades, extended in the dust, took advantage of the halt.</p> - -<p>The party was drawn up under the lee of a low wall by the grassy side of the Brechin -road, and its grotesqueness seemed greater than ever because of its entirely unsuitable -background.</p> - -<p>The wall encircled the site of an ancient building called Magdalen Chapel, which had -long been ruined, and now only survived in one detached fragment and in the -half-obliterated traces of its foundations. Round it the tangled grass rose, and a forest -of withered hemlock that had nearly choked out the nettles, stood up, traced like lacework -against the line of hills beyond the Basin. In summer its powdery white threw an -evanescent grace over the spot. The place was a haunt of Skirling Wattie’s, for it was a -convenient half-way house between Montrose and Brechin, and the trees about it gave a -comforting shelter from both sun and rain.</p> - -<p>The tailboard of the cart was turned to the wall so that the piper could lean his broad -back against it, and there being not a dozen inches between the bottom of his cart and the -ground, he was hidden from anyone who might chance to be in the chapel precincts. The -projecting stone which made a stile for those who entered the enclosure was just level -with his shoulder, and he <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-126">[Pg -126]</a></span>had laid his pipes on it while he sat with folded arms and considered the -situation. He had just been begging at a farm, and he had heard a rumour there that Archie -Flemington was gone from Balnillo, and had been seen in Brechin, riding westwards, on the -preceding morning. The beggar had got a letter for him behind his sliding boards which had -to be delivered without delay.</p> - -<p>“Doag,” said he again, “we’ll awa’ to auld Davie’s.”</p> - -<p>Skirling Wattie distrusted rumour, for the inexactitudes of human observation and human -tongues are better known to a man who lives by his wits than to anybody else. He was not -going to accept this news without sifting it. To Balnillo he would go to find out whether -the report was true. The only drawback was that “auld Davie,” as he called the judge, -abhorred and disapproved of beggars, and he did not know how he might stay in the place -long enough to find out what he wanted. He was a privileged person at most houses, from -the sea on the east to Forfar on the west, but Lord Balnillo would none of him. -Nevertheless, he turned the wheels of his chariot in his direction.</p> - -<p>He wondered, as he went along, why he had not seen Archie by the way; but Archie had -not left Balnillo by the Brechin road, being anxious to avoid him. What was the use of -receiving instructions that he could not bring himself to carry out? The last person he -wished to meet was the beggar.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p> - -<p>Wattie turned into the Balnillo gates and went up the avenue towards the stable. His -pipes were silent, and the fallen leaves muffled the sound of his wheels. He knew about -the mishap that had brought Flemington as a guest to the judge, and about the portrait he -was painting, for tidings of all the happenings in the house reached the mill sooner or -later. That source of gossip was invaluable to him. But, though the miller had confirmed -the report that Flemington had gone, he had been unable to tell him his exact -destination.</p> - -<p>He drove into the stable yard and found it empty but for a man who was chopping wood. -The latter paused between his strokes as he saw who had arrived.</p> - -<p>“A’m seekin’ his lordship,” began Wattie, by way of discovering how the land lay.</p> - -<p>“Then ye’ll no find him,” replied the woodman, who was none other than the elder, -Andrew Robieson, and who, like his master, disapproved consistently of the beggar. He was -a sly old man, and he did not think it necessary to tell the intruder that the judge, -though not in the house, was within hearing of the pipes. It was his boast that he “left -a’ to Providence,” but he was not above an occasional shaping of events to suit -himself.</p> - -<p>The beggar rolled up to the back-door at the brisk pace he reserved for public -occasions. A shriek of delight came from the kitchen window as the blast of his pipes -buzzed and droned across <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-128">[Pg -128]</a></span>the yard. The tune of the ‘East Nauk of Fife’ filled the place. A couple of -maidservants came out and stood giggling as Wattie acknowledged their presence by a wag of -the head that spoke gallantry, patronage, ribaldry—anything that a privileged old rogue -can convey to young womanhood blooming near the soil. A groom came out of the stable and -joined the group.</p> - -<p>The feet of the girls were tapping the ground. The beggar’s expression grew more -genially provocative, and his eyeballs rolled more recklessly as he blew and blew; his -time was perfect. The groom, who was dancing, began to compose steps on his own account. -Suddenly there was a whirl of petticoats, and he had seized one of the girls round the -middle.</p> - -<p>They spun and counter-spun; now loosing each other for the more serious business of -each one’s individual steps, now enlacing again, seeming flung together by some resistless -elemental wind. The man’s gaze, while he danced alone, was fixed on his own feet as though -he were chiding them, admiring them, directing them through niceties which only himself -could appreciate. His partner’s hair came down and fell in a loop of dull copper-colour -over her back. She was a finely-made girl, and each curve of her body seemed to be surging -against the agitated sheath of her clothes. The odd-woman-out circled round the pair like -a fragment thrown off by the spin of some travelling meteor. The passion for dancing that -is even now part of the life of Angus had caught all three, let loose <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-129">[Pg 129]</a></span>upon them by the -piper’s handling of sound and rhythm.</p> - -<p>In the full tide of their intoxication, a door in the high wall of the yard opened and -Lord Balnillo came through it. The fragment broke from its erratic orbit and fled into the -house with a scream; the meteor, a whirling twin-star, rushed on, unseeing. The piper, who -saw well enough, played strong and loud; not the king himself could have stopped him in -the middle of a strathspey. The yellow dog, on his feet among his reposing companions, -showed a narrow white line between his lips, and the hackles rose upon his plebeian -neck.</p> - -<p>“Silence!” cried Lord Balnillo. But the rest of his words were drowned by the yell of -the pipes.</p> - -<p>As the dancers drew asunder again, they saw him and stopped. His wrath was centred on -the beggar, and man and maid slunk away unrebuked.</p> - -<p>Wattie finished his tune conscientiously. To Balnillo, impotent in the hurricane of -braying reeds, each note that kept him dumb was a new insult, and he could see the -knowledge of that fact in the piper’s face. As the music ceased, the beggar swept off his -bonnet, displaying his disreputable bald head, and bowed like the sovereign of some jovial -and misgoverned kingdom. The yellow dog’s attitude forbade Balnillo’s nearer approach.</p> - -<p>“Go!” shouted the judge, pointing a shaking forefinger into space. “Out with you -instantly! <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-130">[Pg 130]</a></span>Is my -house to be turned into a house of call for every thief and vagabond in Scotland? Have I -not forbidden you my gates? Begone from here immediately, or I will send for my men to -cudgel you out!”</p> - -<p>But he leaped back, for he had taken a step forward in his excitement, and the yellow -cur’s teeth were bare.</p> - -<p>“A’m seekin’ the painter-laddie,” said the beggar, giving the dog a good-humoured -cuff.</p> - -<p>“Away with you!” cried the other, unheeding. “You are a plague to the neighbourhood. I -will have you put in Montrose jail! To-morrow, I promise you, you will find yourself where -you cannot make gentlemen’s houses into pandemoniums with your noise.”</p> - -<p>“A’d like Brechin better,” rejoined the beggar; “it’s couthier in there.”</p> - -<p>Balnillo was a humane man, and he prided himself, as all the world knew, on some -improvements he had suggested in the Montrose prison. He was speechless.</p> - -<p>“Ay,” continued Wattie, “a’m thinkin’ you’ve sent mony a better man than mysel’ to the -tolbooth. But, dod! a’m no mindin’ that. A’m asking ye, <i>whaur</i>’<i>s the -painter-lad?</i>”</p> - -<p>One of Balnillo’s fatal qualities was his power of turning in mid-career of wrath or -eloquence to daily with side-issues.</p> - -<p>He swallowed the fury rising to his lips.</p> - -<p>“What! Mr. Flemington?” he stammered. “What do you want of Mr. Flemington?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Is yon what they ca’ him? Well, a’m no seekin’ onything o’ him. It’s him that’s -seekin’ me.”</p> - -<p>Astonishment put everything else out of Balnillo’s mind. He glared at the intruder, his -lips pursed, his fingers working.</p> - -<p>“He tell’t me to come in-by to the muckle hoose and speer for him,” said the other. -“There was a sang he was needin’. He was seekin’ to lairn it, for he liket it fine, an’ he -tell’t me to come awa’ to the hoose and lairn him. Dod! maybe he’s forgotten. Callants -like him’s whiles sweer to mind what they say, but auld stocks like you an’ me’s got mair -sense.”</p> - -<p>“I do not believe a word of it,” protested Balnillo.</p> - -<p>“Hoots! ye’ll hae to try, or the puir lad ’ll no get his sang,” exclaimed Skirling -Wattie, smiling broadly. “Just you cry on him to come down the stair, an’ we’ll awa’ ahint -the back o’ yon wa’, an’ a’ll lairn him the music! It’s this way.”</p> - -<p>He unscrewed the chanter and blew a few piercing notes. The sound flew into the judge’s -face like the impact of a shower of pebbles. He clapped his hands to his ears.</p> - -<p>“I tell you Mr. Flemington is not here!” he bawled, raising his voice above the din. -“He is gone. He is at Ardguys by this time.”</p> - -<p>“Man, is yon true? Ye’re no leein’?” exclaimed Wattie, dropping his weapon.</p> - -<p>“Is yon the way to speak to his lordship?” said the deep voice of Andrew Robieson, who -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-132">[Pg 132]</a></span>had come up -silently, his arms full of wood, behind the beggar’s cart.</p> - -<p>“Turn this vagabond away!” exclaimed Balnillo, almost beside himself. “Send for the -men; bring a horsewhip from the stable! Impudent rogue! Go, Robieson—quick, man!”</p> - -<p>But Wattie’s switch was in his hand, and the dogs were already turning; before the -elder had time to reach the stables, he had passed out under the clock and was -disappearing between the trees of the avenue. He had learned what he wished to know, and -the farther side of Brechin would be the best place for him for the next few days. He -reflected that fortune had favoured him in keeping Captain Logie out of the way. There -would have been no parleying with Captain Logie.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter210"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Chapter200_hdg"><a href="#Chapter200_toc">BOOK II</a></h3> - -<div class="pagebreak"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-135">[Pg 135]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter210_hdg"><a href="#Chapter210_toc">CHAPTER X<br /> -<span class="chap_title">ADRIFT</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">A<small>RCHIE</small> rode along in a dream. He had gone straight out -of the garden, taken his horse from the stable, and ridden back to Forfar, following the -blind resolution to escape from Ardguys before he should have time to realize what it was -costing him. He had changed horses at the posting-house, and turned his face along the way -he had come. Through his pain and perplexity the only thing that stood fast was his -determination not to return to Balnillo. “I will go now,” he had said to Madam Flemington, -and he had gone without another word, keeping his very thoughts within the walled circle -of his resolution, lest they should turn to look at familiar things that might thrust out -hands full of old memories to hold him back.</p> - -<p>In the middle of his careless life he found himself cut adrift without warning from -those associations that he now began to feel he had valued too little, taken for granted -too much.</p> - -<p>Balnillo was impossible for him, and in consequence he was to be a stranger in his own -home. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-136">[Pg 136]</a></span>Madam -Flemington had made no concession and had put no term to his banishment, and though he -could not believe that such a state of things could last, and that one sudden impulse of -hers could hurl him out of her life for ever, she, who had lived for him, had told him -that she would “do without him.” Then, as he assured himself of this, from that dim recess -wherein a latent truth hides until some outside light flashes upon its lair, came the -realization that she had not lived for him alone. She had lived for him that she might -make him into the instrument she desired, a weapon fashioned to her hand, wherewith she -might return blow for blow.</p> - -<p>All at once the thought made him spiritually sick, and the glory and desirableness of -life seemed to fade. He could not see through its dark places, dark where all had been -sunshine. He had been a boy yesterday, a man only by virtue of his astounding courage and -resource, but he was awakening from boyhood, and manhood was hard. His education had -begun, and he could not value the education of pain—the soundest, the most costly one -there is—any more than any of us do whilst it lasts. He did not think, any more than any -of us think, that perhaps when we come to lie on our death-beds we shall know that, of all -the privileges of the life behind us, the greatest has been the privilege of having -suffered and fought.</p> - -<p>All he knew was that his heart ached, that he had disappointed and estranged the person -he <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-137">[Pg 137]</a></span>loved best, -and had lost, at any rate temporarily, the home that had been so dear. But hope would not -desert him, in spite of everything. Madam Flemington had gone very wide of the mark in -suspecting him of any leaning towards the Stuarts, and she would soon understand how -little intention he had of turning rebel. There was still work for him to do. He had been -given a free hand in details, and he would go to Brechin for the night; to-morrow he must -decide what to do. Possibly he would ask to be transferred to some other place. But -nothing that heaven or earth could offer him should make him betray Logie.</p> - -<p>Madam Flemington had seen him go, in ignorance of whether he had gone in obedience or -in revolt. Perhaps she imagined that her arguments and the hateful story she had laid bare -to him had prevailed, and that he was returning to his unfinished portrait. In the -excitement of his interview with her, he had not told her anything but that he refused -definitely to spy upon James any more.</p> - -<p>He had started for Ardguys so early, and had been there such a short time, that he was -back in Forfar by noon. There he left his horse, and, mounting another, set off for -Brechin. He was within sight of its ancient round tower, grey among the yellowing trees -above the South Esk, when close to his left hand there rose the shrill screech of a pipe, -cutting into his abstraction of mind like a sharp stab of pain. It was so loud <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-138">[Pg 138]</a></span>and sudden that the -horse leaped to the farther side of the road, snorting, and Flemington, sitting loosely, -nearly lost his seat. He pulled up the astonished animal, and peered into a thicket of -alder growing by the wayside. The ground was marshy, and the stunted trees were set close, -but, dividing their branches, he saw behind their screen an open patch in the midst of -which was Skirling Wattie’s cart. His jovial face seemed to illuminate the spot.</p> - -<p>“Dod!” exclaimed the piper, “ye was near doon! A’d no seek to change wi’ you. A’m safer -wi’ ma’ doags than you wi’ yon horse. What ailed ye that ye gae’d awa’ frae Balnillo?”</p> - -<p>“Private matters,” said Archie shortly.</p> - -<p>“Aweel, they private matters was no far frae putting me i’ the tolbooth. What gar’d ye -no tell me ye was gaein’?”</p> - -<p>“Have you got a letter for me?” said Flemington, as Wattie began to draw up his -sliding-board.</p> - -<p>“Ay, there’s ane. But just wait you, ma lad, till a tell ye what a was sayin’ to auld -Davie——”</p> - -<p>“Never mind what you said to Lord Balnillo,” broke in Flemington; “I want my -letter.”</p> - -<p>He slipped from the saddle and looped the rein over his arm.</p> - -<p>“Dinna bring yon brute near me!” cried Wattie, as horse and man began to crush through -the alders. “A’m fell feared o’ they unchancy cattle.”</p> - -<p>Archie made an impatient sound and threw the <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-139">[Pg 139]</a></span>rein over a stump. He approached the cart, and the yellow -dog, who was for once lying down, opened his wary golden eyes, watching each movement that -brought the intruder nearer to his master without raising his head.</p> - -<p>“You are not often on this side of Brechin,” said Archie, as the beggar handed him the -packet.</p> - -<p>“Fegs, na!” returned Wattie, “but auld Davie an’ his tolbooth’s on the ither side o’t -an’ it’s no safe yonder. It’s yersel’ I hae to thank for that, Mr. Flemington. A didna ken -whaur ye was, sae a gae’d up to the muckle hoose to speer for ye. The auld stock came doon -himsel’. Dod! the doag gar’d him loup an’ the pipes gar’d him skelloch. But he tell’t me -whaur ye was.”</p> - -<p>“Plague take you! did you go there asking for me?” cried Archie.</p> - -<p>“What was a to dae? A tell’t Davie ye was needin’ me to lairn ye a sang! ‘The -painter-lad was seekin’ me,’ says I, ‘an’ he tell’t me to come in-by.’”</p> - -<p>Flemington’s annoyance deepened. He did not know what the zeal of this insufferable -rascal had led him to say or do in his name, and he had the rueful sense that the tangle -he had paid such a heavy price to escape from was complicating round him. The officious -familiarity of the piper exasperated him, and he resented Government’s choice of such a -tool. He put the letter in his pocket, and began to back out of the thicket. He would read -his instructions by himself.</p> - -<p>“Hey! ye’re no awa’, man?” cried Wattie.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I have no time to waste,” said Flemington, his foot in the stirrup.</p> - -<p>“But ye’ve no tell’t me whaur ye’re gaein’!”</p> - -<p>“Brechin!”</p> - -<p>Archie called the word over his shoulder, and started off at a trot, which he kept up -until he had left the alder-bushes some way behind him.</p> - -<p>Then he broke the seal of his letter, and found that he was to convey the substance of -each report that he sent in, not only to His Majesty’s intelligence officer at Perth, but -to Captain Hall, of the English ship <i>Venture</i>, that was lying under Ferryden. He was -to proceed at once to the vessel, to which further instructions for him would be sent in a -couple of days’ time.</p> - -<p>He pocketed the letter and drew a breath of relief, blessing the encounter that he had -just cursed, for a road of escape from his present difficulty began to open before him. He -must take to his own feet on the other side of Brechin, and go straight to the -<i>Venture</i>. He would be close to Montrose, in communication with it, though not within -the precincts of the town, and safe from the chance of running against Logie. Balnillo and -his brother would not know what had become of him, and Christian Flemington would be cured -of her suspicions by the simple testimony of his whereabouts.</p> - -<p>He would treat the two days that he had spent at the judge’s house as if they had -dropped out of his life, and merely report his late presence in <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-141">[Pg 141]</a></span>Montrose to the captain of the sloop. He -would describe his watching of the two men who came out of ‘The Happy Land,’ and how he -had followed them to the harbour through the darkness; how he had seen them stop opposite -the ship’s light as they discussed their plans; how he had tried to secure the paper they -held. He would tell the captain that he believed some design against the ship to be on -foot, but he would not let Logie’s name pass his lips; and he would deny any knowledge of -the identity of either man, lest the mention of Ferrier should confirm the suspicions of -those who guessed he was working with James. When he had reported himself to Perth from -the ship, he would no longer be brought into contact with Skirling Wattie, which at that -moment struck him as an advantage.</p> - -<p>The evenings had begun to close in early. As he crossed the Esk bridge and walked out -of Brechin, the dusk was enwrapping its parapet like a veil. He hurried on, and struck out -along the road that would lead him to Ferryden by the southern shore of the Basin. His way -ran up a long ascent, and when he stood at the top of the hill the outline of the moon’s -disc was rising, faint behind the thin cloudy bank that rested on the sea beyond Montrose. -There was just enough daylight left to show him the Basin lying between him and the broken -line of the town’s twinkling lights under the muffled moon.</p> - -<p>It was quite dark when he stood at last within hail of the <i>Venture</i>. As he went -along the bank <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-142">[Pg -142]</a></span>at the Esk’s mouth, he could see before him the cluster of houses that -formed Ferryden village, and the North Sea beyond it, a formless void in the night, with -the tide far out. Though the moon was well up, the cloud-bank had risen with her, and -taken all sharpness out of the atmosphere.</p> - -<p>At his left hand the water crawled slithering at the foot of the sloping bank, like a -dark, full-fed snake, and not thirty yards out, just where it broadened, stretching to the -quays of Montrose, the vessel lay at anchor, a stationary blot on the slow movement. -Upstream, between her and the Basin, the wedge-shaped island of Inchbrayock split the mass -of water into two portions.</p> - -<p>Flemington halted, taking in the dark scene, which he had contemplated from its reverse -side only a few nights ago. Then he went down to the water and put his hands round his -mouth.</p> - -<p>“<i>Venture</i> ahoy!” he shouted.</p> - -<p>There was no movement on the ship. He waited, and then called again, with the same -result. Through an open porthole came a man’s laugh, sudden, as though provoked by some -unexpected jest. The water was deep here, and the ship lay so near that every word was -carried across it to the shore.</p> - -<p>The laugh exasperated him. He threw all the power of his lungs into another shout.</p> - -<p>“Who goes there?” said a voice.</p> - -<p>“Friend,” replied Archie; and, fearing to be <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-143">[Pg 143]</a></span>asked for a countersign, he called quickly, “Despatches -for Captain Hall.”</p> - -<p>“Captain Hall is ashore,” announced a second voice, “and no one boards us till he -returns.”</p> - -<p>The <i>Venture</i> was near enough to the bank for Archie to hear some derisive -comment, the words of which he could not completely distinguish. A suppressed laugh -followed.</p> - -<p>“Damn it!” he cried, “am I to be kept here all night?”</p> - -<p>“Like enough, if you mean to wait for the captain.”</p> - -<p>This reply came from the open porthole, in which the light was obliterated by the head -of the man who spoke.</p> - -<p>There was a sound as of someone pulling him back by the heels, and the port was an eye -of light again.</p> - -<p>Flemington turned and went up the bank, and as he reached the top and sprang on to the -path he ran into a short, stoutish figure which was beginning to descend. An impatient -expletive burst from it.</p> - -<p>“You needn’t hurry, sir,” said Archie, as the other hailed the vessel querulously; “you -are not likely to get on board?”</p> - -<p>“What? what? Not board my own ship?”</p> - -<p>Flemington was a good deal taken aback. He could not see much in the clouded night, but -no impression of authority seemed to emanate from the indistinguishable person beside -him.</p> - -<p>“Ten thousand pardons, sir!” exclaimed the <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-144">[Pg 144]</a></span>young man. “You are Captain Hall? I have information for -you, and am sent by His Majesty’s intelligence officer in Perth to report myself to you. -Flemington is my name.”</p> - -<p>For a minute the little man said nothing, and Archie felt rather than saw his fidgety -movements. He seemed to be hesitating.</p> - -<p>A boat was being put off from the ship. She lay so near to them that a mere push from -her side brought the craft almost into the bank.</p> - -<p>“It is so dark that I must show you my credentials on board,” said Archie, taking -Captain Hall’s acquiescence for granted.</p> - -<p>He heard his companion drawing in his breath nervously through his teeth. No opposition -was made as he stepped into the boat.</p> - -<p>When he stood on deck beside Hall the ship was quiet and the sounds of laughter were -silent. He had the feeling that everyone on board had got out of the way on purpose as he -followed the captain down the companion to his cabin. As the latter opened the door the -light within revealed him plainly for the first time.</p> - -<p>He was a small ginger-haired man, whose furtive eyes were set very close to a -thin-bridged, aquiline nose; his gait was remarkable because he trotted rather than -walked; his restless fingers rubbed one another as he spoke. He looked peevish and a -little dissipated, and his manner conveyed the idea that he felt himself to have no -business where he was. As Archie remarked that, he told himself that it was a -characteristic <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-145">[Pg -145]</a></span>he had never yet seen in a seaman. His dress was careless, and a wine-stain -on his cravat caught his companion’s eye. He had the personality of a rabbit.</p> - -<p>Hall did not sit down, but stood at the farther side of the table looking with a kind -of grudging intentness at his guest, and Flemington was inclined to laugh, in spite of the -heavy heart he had carried all day. The other moved about with undecided steps. When at -last he sat down, just under the swinging lamp, Archie was certain that, though he could -be called sober, he had been drinking.</p> - -<p>“Your business, sir,” he began, in a husky voice. “I must tell you that I am fatigued. -I had hoped to go to bed in peace.”</p> - -<p>He paused, leaning back, and surveyed Flemington with injured distaste.</p> - -<p>“There is no reason that you should not,” replied Archie boldly. “I have had a devilish -hard day myself. Give me a corner to lie in to-night, and I will give you the details of -my report quickly.”</p> - -<p>He saw that he would meet with no opposition from Hall, whose one idea was to spare -himself effort, and that his own quarters on board the <i>Venture</i> were sure. No doubt -long practice had enabled the man to look less muddled than he felt. He sat down opposite -to him.</p> - -<p>The other put out his hand, as though to ward him off.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> - -<p>“I have no leisure for business to-night,” he said. “This is not the time for it.”</p> - -<p>“All the same, I have orders from Perth to report myself to you, as I have told you -already,” said Archie. “If you will listen, I will try to make myself clear without -troubling you to read anything. I have information to give which you should hear at -once.”</p> - -<p>“I tell you that I cannot attend to you,” said Hall.</p> - -<p>“I shall not keep you long. You do not realize that it is important, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Am I to be dictated to?” exclaimed the other, raising his voice. “This is my own ship, -Mr. Flem—Fling—Fl——”</p> - -<p>The name presented so much difficulty to Hall that it died away in a tangled murmur, -and Archie saw that to try to make him understand anything important in his present state -would be labour lost.</p> - -<p>“Well, sir,” said he, “I will tell you at once that I suspect an attack on you is -brewing in Montrose. I believe that it may happen at any moment. Having delivered myself -of that, I had best leave you.”</p> - -<p>The word “attack” found its way to the captain’s brain.</p> - -<p>“It’s impossible!” he exclaimed crossly. “Why, plague on’t, I’ve got all the town guns! -Nonsense, sir—no’sense! Come, I will call for a bottle of wine, ’n you can go. There’s an -empty bunk, I s’pose.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-147">[Pg 147]</a></span></p> - -<p>The order was given and the wine was brought. Archie noticed that the man who set the -bottle and the two glasses on the table threw a casual look at Hall’s hand, which shook as -he helped his guest. He had eaten little since morning, and drunk less. Now that he had -attained his object, and found himself in temporary shelter and temporary peace, be -realized how glad he was of the wine. When, after a single glassful, he rose to follow the -sailor who came to show him his bunk, he turned to bid good-night to Hall. The light -hanging above the captain’s head revealed every line, every contour of his face with -merciless candour; and Flemington could see that no lover, counting the minutes till he -should be left with his mistress, had ever longed more eagerly to be alone with her than -this man longed to be alone with the bottle before him.</p> - -<p>Archie threw himself thankfully into his bunk. There was evidently room for him on the -ship, for there was no trace of another occupant in the little cabin; nevertheless, it -looked untidy and unswept. The port close to which he lay was on the starboard side of the -vessel, and looked across the strait towards the town. The lamps were nearly all -extinguished on the quays, and only here and there a yellow spot of light made a faint -ladder in the water. The pleasant trickling sound outside was soothing, with its -impersonal, monotonous whisper. He wondered how long Hall would sit bemusing himself at -the table, and what the discipline of a ship commanded by this <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-148">[Pg 148]</a></span>curiously ineffective personality could -be. To-morrow he must make out his story to the little man. He could not reproach himself -with having postponed his report, for he knew that Hall’s brain, which might possibly be -clearer in the morning, was incapable of taking in any but the simplest impressions -to-night.</p> - -<p>Tired as he was, he did not sleep for a long time. The scenes of the past few days ran -through his head one after another—now they appeared unreal, now almost visible to his -eyes. Sometimes the space of time they covered seemed age-long, sometimes a passing flash. -This was Saturday night, and all the events that had culminated in the disjointing of his -life had been crowded into it since Monday. On Monday he had not suspected what lay in -himself. He would have gibed had he been told that another man’s personality, a page out -of another man’s history, could play such havoc with his own interests.</p> - -<p>He wondered what James was doing. Was he—now—over there in the darkness, looking across -the rolling, sea-bound water straight to the spot on which he lay? Would he—could space be -obliterated and night illumined—look up to find his steady eyes upon him? He lay quiet, -marvelling, speculating. Then Logie, the shadowy town, the burning autumn-trees of -Balnillo, the tulips round the house in far-away Holland, fell away from his mind, and in -their place was the familiar background of Ardguys, the Ardguys of his childhood, with the -silver-haired figure of <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-149">[Pg -149]</a></span>Madam Flemington confronting him; that terrible, unsparing presence wrapped -about with something greater and more arresting than mere beauty; the quality that had -wrought on him since he was a little lad. He turned about with a convulsive breath that -was almost a sob.</p> - -<p>Then, at last, he slept soundly, to be awakened just at dawn by the roar of a gun, -followed by a rattle of small shot, and the frantic hurrying of feet overhead.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter211"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter211_hdg"><a href="#Chapter211_toc">CHAPTER XI<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE GUNS OF MONTROSE</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">W<small>HEN</small> Archie lay and pictured James on the other side of -the water his vision was a true one, but, while he saw him on the quay among the sheds and -windlasses, he had set him in the wrong place.</p> - -<p>James stood at the point of the bay formed by the Basin of Montrose, at the inner and -landward side of the town, not far from the empty fort from which Hall had taken the guns. -The sands at his feet were bare, for the tide was out, and the salt, wet smell of the -oozing weed blew round him on the faint wind. He was waiting for Ferrier.</p> - -<p>They had chosen this night, as at this hour the ebbing water would make it possible for -the hundred men of Ferrier’s regiment to keep clear of the roads, and to make their way -from Brechin on the secluded shore of the Basin. Logie had not been there long when he -heard the soft sound of coming feet, and the occasional knocking of shoes against stone. -As an increasing shadow took shape, he struck his hand twice against his <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-151">[Pg 151]</a></span>thigh, and the shadow -grew still. He struck again, and in another minute Ferrier was beside him; the soldiers -who followed halted behind their leader. The two men said little to each other, but moved -on side by side, and the small company wound up the rising slope of the shore to the -deserted fort and gathered at its foot.</p> - -<p>James and his friend went on a little way and stood looking east down the townward -shore of the strait past the huddled houses massed together at this end of Montrose. The -water slid to the sea, and halfway down the long quay in front of them was moored the -unrigged barque that held the town guns—the four-pounders and six-pounders that had -pointed their muzzles for so many years from the fort walls towards the thundering -bar.</p> - -<p>Hall had not concerned himself to bring the vessel into his own immediate -neighbourhood, nor even to put a few dozen yards of water between her and the shore. He -knew that no organized rebel force existed within nine miles of where she lay, and that -the Jacobites among the townsmen could not attempt any hostile movement unaided. He had -eighty men on board the <i>Venture</i> with him, and from them he had taken a small guard -which was left in charge of the barque. Every two or three days he would send a party from -the sloop to patrol the streets of Montrose, and to impress disloyally inclined people. -His own investigations of the place had not been great, for, though he went ashore a <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-152">[Pg 152]</a></span>good deal, it cannot -be said that King George’s interests were much furthered by his doings when he got -there.</p> - -<p>When Logie and Ferrier had posted a handful of men in the empty fort, they went on -towards the barque’s moorings followed by the rest, and leaving a few to guard the mouth -of each street that opened on the quay. The whole world was abed behind the darkened -windows and the grim stone walls that brooded like blind faces over the stealthy band -passing below. When they reached the spot where the ferry-boat lay that plied between -Montrose and the south shore of the strait, two men went down to the landing-stage, and, -detaching her chains, got her ready to push off. Then, with no more delay, the friends -pressed on to the main business of their expedition. As they neared the barque, a faint -shine forward where her bows pointed seaward suggested that someone on board was waking, -so, judging it best to make the attack before an alarm could be given, the two captains -ran on with their men, and were climbing over the bulwarks and tumbling on to her deck -before Captain Hall’s guard, who were playing cards round a lantern, had time to collect -their senses.</p> - -<p>The three players sprang to their feet, and one of them sent a loud cry ringing into -the darkness before he sprawled senseless, with his head laid open by the butt-end of -Ferrier’s pistol. In this unlooked-for onslaught, that had come upon them as suddenly as -the swoop of a squall in a <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-153">[Pg -153]</a></span>treacherous sea, they struck blindly about, stumbling into the arms of the -swarming, unrecognized figures that had poured in on their security out of the peaceful -night. James had kicked over the lantern, and the cards lay scattered about under foot, -white spots in the dimness. The bank of cloud was thinning a little round the moon, and -the angles of the objects on deck began to be more clearly blocked out. One of the three, -who had contrived to wrench himself from his assailant’s hold, sprang away and raced -towards the after-part of the ship, where, with the carelessness of security, he had left -his musket. Three successive shots was the signal for help from the <i>Venture</i> in case -of emergency, and he made a gallant effort to get free to send this sign of distress -across the strait. But he was headed back and overpowered before he could carry out his -intention. One of his companions was lying as if dead on the deck, and the other, who had -been cajoled to silence by the suggestive caress of a pistol at the back of his ear, was -having his arms bound behind him with his own belt.</p> - -<p>Not a shot had been fired. Except for that one cry from the man who lay so still at -their feet, no sound but the scuffling and cursing on the barque disturbed the quiet. -Ferrier’s men hustled their prisoners below into the cabin, where they were gagged and -secured and left under the charge of a couple of soldiers. No roving citizen troubled the -neighbourhood at this hour, for the fly-by-nights <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-154">[Pg 154]</a></span>of Montrose looked farther inland for their -entertainment, and the fisher-folk, who were the principal dwellers in the poor houses -skirting the quays, slept sound, and recked little of who might be quarrelling out of -doors so long as they lay warm within them. The barque was some way up-stream from the -general throng of shipping—apart, and, as Hall had thought, the more safe for that, for -his calculations had taken no count of an enemy who might come from anywhere but the town. -He had never dreamed of the silent band which had been yielded up by the misty stretches -of the Basin.</p> - -<p>James leaned over the vessel’s side towards the <i>Venture</i>, and thought of Captain -Hall. He had seen him in a tavern of the town, and had been as little impressed by his -looks as was Flemington. He had noticed the uncertain eye, the restless fingers, the -trotting gait, and had held him lightly as a force; for he knew as well as most men know -who have knocked about this world that character—none other—is the hammer that drives home -every nail into the framework of achievement.</p> - -<p>But he had no time to spend in speculations, for his interest was centred in the -ferry-boat that was now slipping noiselessly towards them on the current, guided -down-stream by the couple of soldiers who had unmoored her. As she reached the barque a -rope was tossed down to her, and she was made fast. The stolen guns were hauled <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-155">[Pg 155]</a></span>from their storage, -and a six-pounder lowered, with its ammunition, into the great tub that scarcely heaved on -the slow swirl of the river; and whilst the work was going on, Ferrier and James stepped -ashore to the quay, and walked each a short way along it, watching for any movement or for -the chance of surprise. There was nothing: only, from far out beyond the shipping, a soft -rush, so low that it seemed to be part of the atmosphere itself, told that the tide was on -the turn.</p> - -<p>In the enshrouding night the boat was loaded, and a dozen or so of the little company -pushed off with their spoil. Ferrier went with them, and Logie, who was to follow with the -second gun, watched the craft making her way into obscurity, like some slow black river -monster pushing blindly out into space.</p> - -<p>The scheme he had been putting together since the arrival of the <i>Venture</i> was -taking reality at last, and though he could stand with folded arms on the bulwark looking -calmly at the departing boat, the fire in his heart burned hot. Custom had inured him to -risks of every kind, and if his keenness of enterprise was the same as it had been in -youth, the excitement of youth had evaporated. It was the depths that stirred in Logie, -seldom the surface. Like Archie Flemington, he loved life, but he loved it differently. -Flemington loved it consciously, joyously, pictorially; James loved it desperately—so -desperately <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-156">[Pg 156]</a></span>that -his spirit had survived the shock which had robbed it of its glory, for him. He was like a -faithful lover whose mistress has been scarred by smallpox.</p> - -<p>He could throw himself heart and soul into the Stuart cause, its details and -necessities—all that his support of it entailed upon him, because it had, so to speak, -given him his second wind in the race of life. Though he was an adventurer by nature, he -differed from the average adventurer in that he sought nothing for himself. He did not -conform to the average adventuring type. He was too overwhelmingly masculine to be a -dangler about women, though since the shipwreck of his youth he had more than once -followed in the train of some complaisant goddess, and had reaped all the benefits of her -notice; he was no snatcher at casual advantages, but a man to whom service in any interest -meant solid effort and unsparing sacrifice. Also he was one who seldom looked back. He had -done so once lately, and the act had shaken him to the heart. Perhaps he would do so -oftener when he had wrought out the permanent need of action that lay at the foundation of -his nature.</p> - -<p>When the boat had come back, silent on the outflowing river, and had taken her second -load, he lowered himself into the stern as her head was pulled round again towards -Inchbrayock.</p> - -<p>The scheme fashioned by the two men for the capture of the vessel depended for its -success <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-157">[Pg 157]</a></span>on their -possession of this island. As soon as they should land on it, they were to entrench the -two guns, one on its south-eastern side, as near to the <i>Venture</i> as possible, and -the other on its northern shore, facing the quays. By this means the small party would -command, not only the ship, but the whole breadth of the river and its landing-places, and -would be able to stop communication between Captain Hall and the town. Heavy undergrowth -covered a fair portion of Inchbrayock, and the only buildings upon it—if buildings they -could be called—were the walls of an old graveyard and the stones and crosses they -encircled. Though the island lay at a convenient part of the strait, no bridge connected -it with Montrose, and those who wished to cross the Esk at that point were obliged to use -the ferry. The channel dividing its southern shore from the mainland being comparatively -narrow, a row of gigantic stepping-stones carried wayfarers dry-shod across its bed, for -at low tide there was a mere streak of water curling serpent-wise through the mud.</p> - -<p>When the guns were got safely into position on the island it was decided that Ferrier -was to return to the barque and take the remaining four-pounders with all despatch to a -piece of rising ground called Dial Hill, that overlooked the mass of shipping opposite -Ferryden.</p> - -<p>He did not expect to meet with much opposition, should news of his action be carried to -the <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-158">[Pg 158]</a></span>town, for -its main sympathies were with his side, and the force on the Government vessel would be -prevented from coming over the strait to oppose him until he was settled on his eminence -by the powerful dissuaders he had left behind him on Inchbrayock. He was to begin firing -from Dial Hill at dawn, and James, who was near enough to the <i>Venture</i> to see any -movement that might take place on her, was to be ready with his fire and with his small -party of marksmen to check any offensive force despatched from the ship to the quays. Hall -would thus be cut off from the town by the fire from Inchbrayock, on the one hand, and, -should he attempt a landing nearer to the watermouth, by the guns on Dial Hill, on the -other.</p> - -<p>James had placed himself advantageously. The thicket of elder and thorn which had -engulfed one end of the burial-ground made excellent concealment, and in front of him was -the solid wall, through a gap in which he had turned the muzzle of his six-pounder. He sat -on the stump of a thorn-tree, his head in his hands, waiting, as he knew he would have to -wait, for some time yet, till the first round from Dial Hill should be the signal for his -own attack. The moon had made her journey by this hour, and while she had been caught in -her course through the zenith in the web of cloud and mist that thickened the sky, she was -now descending towards her rest through a clear stretch; she swung, as though suspended -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-159">[Pg 159]</a></span>above the Basin, -tilted on her back, and a little yellower as she neared the earth, a dying, witch-like -thing, halfway through her second quarter. James, looking up, could see her between the -arms of the crosses and the leaning stones.</p> - -<p>The strangeness of the place arrested his thoughts and turned them into unusual tracks, -for, though far from being an unimaginative man, he was little given to deliberate -contemplation. The distant inland water under the lighted half disc was pale, and a -faintness seemed to lie upon the earth in this hour between night and morning. His -thoughts went to the only dwellers on Inchbrayock, those who were lying under his -feet—seamen, for the most part, and fisher-folk, who had known the fury of the North Sea -that was now beginning to crawl in and to surround them in their little township with its -insidious arms, encircling in death the bodies that had escaped it in life. Some of them -had been far afield, farther than he had ever been, in spite of all his campaigns, but -they had come in over the bar to lie here in the jaws of the outflowing river by their -native town. He wondered whether he should do the same; times were so uncertain now that -he might well take the road into the world again. The question of where his bones should -lie was a matter of no great interest to him, and though there was a vague restfulness in -the notion of coming at last to the slopes and shadows of Balnillo, he knew that the -wideness of the world <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-160">[Pg -160]</a></span>was his natural home. Then he thought of Bergen-op-Zoom. -. . .</p> - -<p>After a while he raised his head again, roused, not by the streak of light that was -growing upon the east, but by a shot that shattered the silence and sent the echoes -rolling out from Dial Hill.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter212"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter212_hdg"><a href="#Chapter212_toc">CHAPTER XII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">INCHBRAYOCK</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">A<small>RCHIE</small> sprang up, unable, for a moment, to remember -where he was. He was almost in darkness, for the port looked northward, and the pale light -barely glimmered through it, but he could just see a spurt of white leap into the air -midway across the channel, where a second shot had struck the water. As he rushed on deck -a puff of smoke was dispersing above Dial Hill. Then another cloud rolled from the bushes -on the nearest point of Inchbrayock Island, and he felt the <i>Venture</i> shiver and move -in her moorings. Captain Hall’s voice was rising above the scuffling and running that was -going on all over the ship, and the dragging about of heavy objects was making the decks -shake.</p> - -<p>He went below and begun to hustle on his clothes, for the morning air struck chill and -he felt the need of being ready for action of some kind. In a few minutes he came up -warily and crept round to the port side, taking what cover he could. Then a roar burst -from the side of the <i>Venture</i> as she opened fire.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p> - -<p>He stood, not knowing what to do with himself. It was dreadful to him to have to be -inactive whilst his blood rose with the excitement round him. No one on the vessel -remembered his existence; he was like a stray dog in a market-place, thrust aside by every -passer brushing by on the business of life.</p> - -<p>It was soon evident that, though the guns on the hill commanded the <i>Venture</i>, -their shot was falling short of her. As the sun heaved up from beyond the bar, the quays -over the water could be seen filling with people, and the town bells began to ring. An -increasing crowd swarmed upon the landing-stage of the ferry, but the boat herself had -been brought by James to the shore of Inchbrayock, and nobody was likely to cross the -water whilst the island and the high ground seaward of the town was held by the invisible -enemy which had come upon them from heaven knew where. Captain Hall was turning his -attention exclusively on Inchbrayock, and Flemington, who had got nearer to the place -where he stood, gathered from what he could hear that the man on Dial Hill was wasting his -ammunition on a target that was out of range. A shot from the vessel had torn up a shower -of earth in the bank that sloped from the thicket to the river-mud, and another had struck -one of the gravestones on the island, splitting it in two; but the fire went on steadily -from the dense tangle where the churchyard wall no doubt concealed earthworks that had -risen behind it in the dark hours. This, then, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-163">[Pg 163]</a></span>was the outcome of James’s night-wanderings with -Ferrier.</p> - -<p>Archie contemplated Captain Hall where he stood in a little group of men. He looked -even less of a personage in the morning light than he had done in the cabin, and the young -man suspected that he had gone to bed in his clothes. This reminded him that he himself -was unwashed, unshaven, and very hungry. Whatsoever the issue of the attack might be, -there was no use in remaining starved and dirty, and he determined to go below to forage -and to find some means of washing. There was no one to gainsay him at this time of stress, -and he walked into Hall’s cabin reflecting that he might safely steal anything he could -carry from the ship, if he were so minded, and slip overboard across the narrow arm to the -bank with nothing worse than a wetting.</p> - -<p>Whilst he was attending to his own necessities, the booming went on overhead, and at -last a shout from above sent him racing up from the welcome food he had contrived to -secure. The wall on Inchbrayock was shattered in two or three places and the unseen gun -was silent. The cannonade from Dial Hill had stopped, but a train of figures was hurrying -across from the northern shore of the island, taking shelter among the bushes and stones. -A boat was being lowered from the <i>Venture</i>, for the tide, now sweeping in, had -covered the mud, making a landing possible. Men were crowding into her, and as Flemington -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-164">[Pg 164]</a></span>got round to his -former place of observation she was being pushed off.</p> - -<p>Hall, who was standing alone, caught sight of him and came towards him; his face looked -swollen and puffy, and his eyes were bloodshot.</p> - -<p>“We have been attacked,” he began—“attacked most unexpectedly!”</p> - -<p>“I had the honour to report that possibility to you last night, sir,” replied -Flemington, with a trifle of insolence in his manner.</p> - -<p>An angry look shot out of Hall’s rabbit eyes. “What could you possibly have known about -such a thing?” he cried. “What reason had you for making such a statement?”</p> - -<p>“I had a great many,” said Archie, “but you informed me that you had no leisure to -listen to any of them until this morning. Perhaps you are at leisure now?”</p> - -<p>“You are a damned impudent scoundrel!” cried the other, noticing Flemington’s -expression, which amply justified these words, “but you had better take care! There is -nothing to prevent me from putting you under arrest.”</p> - -<p>“Nothing but the orders I carry in my pocket,” replied Archie. “They are likely enough -to deter you.”</p> - -<p>The other opened his mouth to speak, but before he could do so a shot crashed into the -fore part of the ship, and a hail of bullets ripped out from the thicket on the island; -the boat, which was half-way between the <i>Venture</i> and Inchbrayock, spun round, and -two of the rowers fell forward over <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-165">[Pg 165]</a></span>their oars. Hall left Archie standing where he was.</p> - -<p>The gun that the ship’s gunners believed themselves to have disabled had opened fire -again, after a silence that had been, perhaps, but a lure to draw a sortie from her; and -as it was mere destruction for the boat to attempt a landing in the face of the shot, she -had orders to put back.</p> - -<p>The position in which he was placed was now becoming clear to Hall. He was cut off from -communication with the quays by the guns safely entrenched on the island, and those on -Dial Hill, though out of range for the moment, would prevent him from moving nearer to the -watermouth or making an attempt to get out to sea. He could not tell what was happening in -the town opposite, and he had no means of finding out, for the whole of the cannon that he -had been mad enough to leave by the shore was in the enemy’s possession, and would remain -so unless the townspeople should rise in the Government interest for their recapture. This -he was well aware they would not do.</p> - -<p>His resentment against his luck, and the tale-bearing voice within, which told him that -he had nothing to thank for it but his own carelessness, grew more insistent as his head -grew clearer. He had been jerked out of sleep, heavy-headed, and with a brain still dulled -by drink, but the morning freshness worked on him, and the sun warmed his senses into -activity. The sight of Flemington, clean, impertinent, and entirely comprehensive <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-166">[Pg 166]</a></span>of the circumstances, -drove him mad; and it drove him still madder to know that Archie understood why he had -been unwilling to see his report last night.</p> - -<p>Hall’s abilities were a little superior to his looks. So far he had served his country, -not conspicuously, but without disaster, and had he been able to keep himself as sober as -most people contrived to be in those intemperate days, he might have gone on his course -with the same tepid success. He was one who liked the distractions of towns, and he -bemoaned the fate that had sent him to anchor in a dull creek of the East Coast, where the -taverns held nothing but faces whose unconcealed dislike forbade conviviality, and where -even the light women looked upon his uniform askance. He was not a lively comrade at the -best of times, and here, where he was thrown upon the sole society of his officers, with -whom he was not popular, he was growing more morose and more careless as his habits of -stealthy excess grew upon him. Archie, with his quick judgment of his fellow-men, had -measured him accurately, and he knew it. In the midst of the morning’s disaster the -presence of the interloper, his flippant civility of word and insolence of manner, made -his sluggish blood boil.</p> - -<p>It was plain that the party on the island must be dislodged before anything could be -done to save the situation, and Hall now decided to land as large a force as he could -spare upon the mainland. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-167">[Pg -167]</a></span>By marching it along the road to Ferryden he would give the impression that -some attempt was to be made to cross the strait nearer to the coast, and to land it -between Dial Hill and the sea. Behind Ferryden village a rough track turned sharply -southward up the bank, and this they were to take; they would be completely hidden from -Inchbrayock once they had got over the crest of the land, and they were to double back -with all speed along the mainland under shelter of the ridge, and to go for about a mile -parallel with the Basin. When they had got well to the westward side of the island, they -were to wheel down to the Basin’s shore at a spot where a grove of trees edged the brink; -for here, in a sheltering turn of backwater among the trunks and roots, a few boats were -moored for the convenience of those who wished to cross straight to Montrose by water -instead of taking the usual path by the stepping-stones over Inchbrayock Island.</p> - -<p>They were to embark at this place, and, hugging the shore, under cover of its -irregularities, to approach Inchbrayock from the west. If they should succeed in landing -unseen, they would surprise the enemy at the further side of the graveyard whilst his -attention was turned on the <i>Venture</i>. The officer to be sent in command of the party -believed it could be done, because the length of the island would intervene to hide their -manœuvres from the town, where the citizens, crowding on the quays, would be only too -ready <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-168">[Pg 168]</a></span>to direct -the notice of the rebels to their approach.</p> - -<p>As the boat put off from the ship Archie slipped into it; he seemed to have lost his -definite place in the scheme of things during the last twenty-four hours; he was nobody’s -servant, nobody’s master, nobody’s concern; and in spite of his bold reply to Hall’s -threat of arrest, he knew quite well that though the captain would stop short of such a -measure, he might order him below at any moment; the only wonder was that he had not done -so already. He did not know into what hands he might fall, should Hall be obliged to -surrender, and this contingency appeared to be growing likely. By tacking himself on to -the landing-party he would at least have the chance of action, and though, having been -careful to keep out of Hall’s sight, he had not been able to discover their destination, -he had determined to land with the men.</p> - -<p>After they had disembarked, he went boldly up to the officer in charge of the party and -asked for permission to go with it, and when this was accorded with some surprise, he fell -into step. As they tramped along towards Ferryden, he managed to pick up something of the -work in hand from the man next to him. His only fear was of the chance of running against -Logie; nevertheless, he made up his mind to trust to luck to save him from that, because -he believed that Logie, as a professional soldier, would be in command of the guns on the -hill. It was from <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-169">[Pg -169]</a></span>Dial Hill that the tactical details of the attack could best be directed, -and if either of the conspirators were upon the island, Archie was convinced it would be -Ferrier.</p> - -<p>They soon reached Ferryden. The sun was clear and brave in the salt air over the sea, -and a flock of gulls was screaming out beyond the bar, dipping, hovering, swinging -sideways against the light breeze, now this way, now that way, their wanton voices full of -mockery, as though the derisive spirits imprisoned in the ocean had become articulate, and -were crying out on the land. The village looked distrustfully at the approach of the small -company, and some of the fisher-wives dragged their children indoors as if they thought to -see them kidnapped. Such men as were hanging about watched them with sullen eyes as they -turned in between the houses and made for the higher ground.</p> - -<p>The boom of the <i>Venture</i>’<i>s</i> guns came to them from time to time, and once -they heard a great shout rise from the quays, but they could see nothing because of the -intervening swell of the land. They passed a farm and a few scattered cottages; but these -were empty, for their inmates had gone to the likeliest places they could find for a view -of what was happening in the harbour.</p> - -<p>Presently they went down to the Basin, straggling by twos and threes. At the water’s -edge a colony of beeches stood naked and leafless, their heads listed over westward by the -winds that <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-170">[Pg 170]</a></span>swept -up the river’s mouth. They were crowded thick about the creek down which Flemington and -his companions came, and at their feet, tied to the gnarled elbows of the great roots -beneath which the water had eaten deep into the bank, lay three or four boats with their -oars piled inside them. The beech-mast of years had sunk into the soil, giving a curious -mixture of heaviness and elasticity to the earth as it was trodden; a water-rat drew a -lead-coloured ripple along the transparency, below which the undulations of the bottom lay -like a bird’s-eye view of some miniature world. The quiet of this hidden landing-place -echoed to the clank of the rowlocks as the heavy oars were shipped, and two boatloads slid -out between the stems.</p> - -<p>Archie, who was unarmed, had borrowed one of the officer’s pistols, not so much with -the intention of using it as from the wish for a plausible pretext for joining the party. -At any time his love of adventure would welcome such an opportunity, and at this moment he -did not care what might happen to him. He seemed to have no chance of being true to -anybody, and it was being revealed to him that, in these circumstances, life was scarcely -endurable. He had never thought about it before, and he could think of nothing else now. -It was some small comfort to know that, should his last half-hour of life be spent on -Inchbrayock, Madam Flemington would at least understand that she had wronged him in -suspecting him of being a turncoat. If only James could <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-171">[Pg 171]</a></span>know that he had not betrayed him—or, -rather, that his report was in the hands of that accursed beggar before they met among the -broom-bushes! Yet, what if he did know it? Would his loathing of the spy under the -roof-tree of his brother’s house be any the less? He would never understand—never know. -And yet he had been true to him in his heart, and the fact that he had now no roof-tree of -his own proved it.</p> - -<p>They slipped in under the bank of the island and disembarked silently. The higher -ground in the middle of it crossed their front like the line of an incoming wave, hiding -all that was going on on its farther side. They were to advance straight over it, and to -rush down upon the thicket where the gun was entrenched with its muzzle towards the -<i>Venture</i>. There was to be no working round the north shore, lest the hundreds of -eyes on the quays should catch sight of them, and a hundred tongues give the alarm to the -rebels. They were to attack at once, only waiting for the sound of another shot to locate -the exact place for which they were to make. They stood drawn up, waiting for the -order.</p> - -<p>Archie dropped behind the others. His heart had begun to sink. He had assured himself -over and over again that Logie must be on Dial Hill; yet as each moment brought him nearer -to contact with the enemy, he felt cold misgiving stealing on him. What if his guesses had -been wrong? He knew that he had been a fool to run the risk he <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-172">[Pg 172]</a></span>had taken. Chance is such a smiling, -happy-go-lucky deity when we see her afar off; but when we are well on our steady plod -towards her, and the distance lessens between us, it is often all that we can do to meet -her eyes—their expression has changed. Archie’s willingness to take risks was unfailing -and temperamental, and he had taken this one in the usual spirit, but so much had happened -lately to shake his confidence in life and in himself that his high heart was beating -slower. Never had he dreaded anything as much as he dreaded James’s knowledge of the -truth; yet the most agonizing part of it all was that James could not know the whole -truth, nor understand it, even if he knew it. Archie’s reading of the other man’s -character was accurate enough to tell him that no knowledge of facts could make Logie -understand the part he had played.</p> - -<p>Sick at heart, he stood back from the party, watching it gather before the officer. He -did not belong to it; no one troubled his head about him, and the men’s backs were towards -him. He stole away, sheltered by a little hillock, and ran, bent almost double, to the -southern shore of the island. He would creep round it and get as near as possible to the -thicket. If he could conceal himself, he might be able to see the enemy and the enemy’s -commander, and to discover the truth while there was yet time for flight. He glanced over -his shoulder to see if the officer had noticed his absence, and being reassured, he -pressed on. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-173">[Pg 173]</a></span>He -knew that anyone who thought about him at all would take him for a coward, but he did not -reckon that. The dread of meeting James possessed him.</p> - -<p>Sheep were often brought over to graze the island, and their tracks ran like network -among the bushes. He trod softly in and out, anxious to get forward before the next sound -of the gun should let loose the invading-party upon the rebels. He passed the end of the -stepping-stones which crossed the Esk’s bed to the mainland; they were now nearly -submerged by the tide rising in the river. He had not known of their existence, and as he -noticed them with surprise, a shot shook the air, and though the thicket, now not far -before him, blocked his view of the <i>Venture</i>’<i>s</i> hull, he saw the tops of her -masts tremble, and knew that she had been struck.</p> - -<p>Before him, the track took a sharp turn round a bend of the shore, which cut the path -like a little promontory, so that he could see nothing beyond it, and here he paused. In -another few minutes the island would be in confusion from the attack, and he might -discover nothing. He set his teeth and stepped round the corner.</p> - -<p>The track widened out and then plunged into the fringe of the thicket. A man was -kneeling on one knee with his back to Flemington; his hands were shading his eyes, and he -was peering along a tunnel-shaped gap in the branches, through which could be seen a patch -of river and the damaged bows of the <i>Venture</i>.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> - -<p>Archie’s instinct was to retreat, but before he could do so, the man jumped up and -faced him. His heart leaped to his mouth, for it was James.</p> - -<p class="break">* * * * *</p> - -<p>Logie stood staring at him. Then he made a great effort to pick up the connecting-link -of recollection that he felt sure he must have dropped. He had been so much absorbed in -the business in hand that he found it impossible for a moment to estimate the significance -of any outside matter. Though he was confounded and disturbed by the unlooked-for -apparition of the painter, the idea of hostility never entered his mind.</p> - -<p>“Flemington?” he exclaimed, stepping towards him.</p> - -<p>But the other man’s expression was so strange that he stopped, conscious of vague -disaster. What had the intruder come to tell him? As he stood, Flemington murmured -something he could not distinguish, then turned quickly in his tracks.</p> - -<p>Logie leaped after him, and seized him by the shoulder before he had time to double -round the bend.</p> - -<p>“Let me go!” cried Archie, his chest heaving; “let me go, man!”</p> - -<p>But James’s grip tightened; he was a strong man, and he almost dragged him over. As he -held him, he caught sight of the Government pistol in his belt. It was one that the -officer who had lent it to Flemington had taken from the ship.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> - -<p>He jerked Archie violently round and made a snatch at the weapon, and the younger man, -all but thrown off his balance, thrust his arm convulsively into the air. His sleeve shot -back, laying bare a round, red spot outside the brown, sinewy wrist.</p> - -<p>Then there flashed retrospectively before James’s eye that same wound, bright in the -blaze of the flaming paper; and with it there flashed comprehension.</p> - -<p>His impulse was to draw his own pistol, and to shoot the spy dead, but Archie recovered -his balance, and was grappling with him so that he could not get his arm free. The -strength of the slim, light young man astonished him. He was as agile as a weasel, but -James found in him, added to his activity, a force that nearly matched his own.</p> - -<p>There was no possible doubt of Logie’s complete enlightenment, though he kept his -crooked mouth shut and uttered no word. His eyes wore an expression not solely due to the -violent struggle going on; they were terrible, and they woke the frantic instinct of -self-preservation in Flemington. He knew that James was straining to get out his own -pistol, and he hung on him and gripped him for dear life. As they swayed and swung to and -fro, trampling the bents, there rose from behind the graveyard a yell that gathered and -broke over the sound of their own quick breaths like a submerging flood, and the bullets -began to whistle over the rising ground.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> - -<p>Archie saw a change come into James’s eyes; then he found himself staggering, hurled -with swift and tremendous force from his antagonist. He was flung headlong against the -jutting bend round which he had come, and his forehead struck it heavily; then, rolling -down to the track at its foot, he lay stunned and still.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter213"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-177">[Pg 177]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter213_hdg"><a href="#Chapter213_toc">CHAPTER XIII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE INTERESTED SPECTATOR</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">A<small>S</small> James Logie dashed back to his men to meet this -unexpected attack, he left Flemington lying with his face to the bank and his back towards -the river; he was so close to the edge of the island that his hair rested on the wet sand -permeated by the returning tide coming up the Esk. James’s whole mind had gone back like a -released spring to its natural preoccupation, and he almost forgot him before he had time -to join the brisk affray that was going on.</p> - -<p>But though Archie lay where he fell, and was as still as a heap of driftwood, it was -only a few minutes before he came to himself. Perhaps the chill of the damp sand under his -head helped to revive him; perhaps the violence of the blow had been broken by the sod -against which he had been hurled. He stirred and raised himself, dazed, but listening to -the confused sounds of fighting that rang over Inchbrayock. His head hurt him, and -instinctively he grubbed up a handful of the cold, wet sand and held it to his brow. His -wits had not gone far, for there had been no long break <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-178">[Pg 178]</a></span>in his consciousness, and he got on his -feet and looked round for the best means of escape.</p> - -<p>James knew all. That was plain enough; and on the issue of the skirmish his own liberty -would depend if he did not get clear of the island at once. He went back round the bend, -and looking up the shore he saw a couple of the stepping-stones which were only half -covered by the tide. In the middle of the channel they had disappeared already, but at -either edge they lay visible, like the two ends of a partly submerged chain. Blood was -trickling down his face, but he washed it off, and made hastily for the crossing, wading -in.</p> - -<p>The Esk was not wide just there, though it was far deeper than he had fancied it, and -he stumbled along, churning up the mud into an opaque swirl through which he could not see -the bottom. He climbed the further bank, wasting no time in looking behind him, and never -stopped until he stood, panting and dizzy, on the high ridge of land from which he could -overlook Inchbrayock and the harbour and town. He was a good deal exhausted, for his head -throbbed like a boiling pot, and his hands were shaking. He lay down in a patch of whins, -remembering that he was on the sky-line. He meant to see which way the fortunes of war -were going to turn before deciding what to do with himself. Thanks to chance, his business -with Captain Hall was not finished, nor even begun; but as things seemed at present, -Captain Hall might be a <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-179">[Pg -179]</a></span>prisoner before the leisure which had been the subject of his own gibes -that morning should arrive. The vessel’s guns had roared out again as he struggled up the -steep, but there had been silence on the island, and even the rattle of musketry had now -stopped. Something decisive must have taken place, though he could not guess what it was, -and he was too far away to distinguish more than the moving figures in the graveyard.</p> - -<p>He was high enough to see the curve of the watery horizon, for Ferryden village was -some way below him. His view was only interrupted by a group of firs that stood like an -outpost between him and the land’s end. He lay among his friendly whin-bushes, staring -down on the strait. If James were victorious he knew that there would soon be a hue and -cry on his own tracks; but though alive to the desirableness of a good start in these -circumstances, he felt that he could not run while there remained any chance of laying the -whole of his report before Captain Hall. He thought, from what he had seen of the man, -that the less he was reckoned with by his superiors the better, but it was not his -business to consider that. As he turned these things over in his mind his eyes were -attracted to Dial Hill, upon which the sudden sign of a new turn of events could be -read.</p> - -<p>He could see the group of men with the guns below the flagstaff which crowned its -summit, and what now attracted his attention was a dark <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-180">[Pg 180]</a></span>object that had been run up the ropes, -its irregular outline flapping and flying against the sky as it was drawn frantically up -and down.</p> - -<p>Flemington was blessed with long sight, and he was certain that the two sharp-cut ends -that waved like streamers as the dark object dipped and rose, were the sleeves of a man’s -coat. He saw a figure detach itself from the rest and run towards the seaward edge of the -eminence. Ferrier—for he supposed now that Ferrier was on the hill—must be signalling out -to sea with this makeshift flag.</p> - -<p>He half raised himself from his lair. The cold grey-green of the ocean spread along the -world’s edge, broken by tiny streaks of foam as the wind began to freshen, and beyond the -fir-trees, seen through their stems, the reason of the activity on Dial Hill slid into -sight.</p> - -<p>A ship was coming up the coast not a couple of miles out, and as Flemington watched her -she stood in landward, as though attracted out of her course by the signals and the sound -of firing in Montrose harbour. She was too far off for him to distinguish her colours, but -he knew enough about shipping to be certain that she was a French frigate.</p> - -<p>He dropped back into his place; whilst these sensational matters were going forward he -did not suppose that anyone would think of pursuing him. The fact that the rebels were -signalling her in suggested that the stranger might not be unexpected, and in all -probability she carried <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-181">[Pg -181]</a></span>French supplies and Jacobite troops. The likelihood of an interview with -Captain Hall grew more remote.</p> - -<p>The frigate drew closer; soon she was hidden from him by the jutting out of the land. -Another shot broke from the <i>Venture</i>, but the quick reply from the island took all -doubt of the issue of the conflict from Archie’s mind. James was in full possession of the -place, and the surprise must have been a failure.</p> - -<p>Archie watched eagerly to see the ship arrive in the river-mouth. It was evident that -Hall, from his position under the south shore of the strait, had not seen her yet. -Presently she rounded the land and appeared to the hundreds of eyes on the quays, a -gallant, silent, winged creature, a vivid apparition against the band of sea beyond the -opening channel of the Esk, swept towards the town as though by some unseen impulse of -fate. The shout that went up as she came into view rose to where Archie lay on the -hillside.</p> - -<p>The tide was now running high, and she passed in under Dial Hill. Her deck was covered -with troops, and the waving of hats and the cheers of the townspeople, who were pouring -along the further side of the harbour, made the truth plain to the solitary watcher among -the whins. The <i>Venture</i> sent a shot to meet her that fell just in front of her bows, -but although it was followed by a second, that cut her rigging, no great harm was done, -and she answered with a broadside that echoed off the walls of the town till the strait -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-182">[Pg 182]</a></span>was in a roar. -It had no time to subside before James’s gun on Inchbrayock began again.</p> - -<p>Flemington could see that Hall’s surrender could only be a matter of time; the -new-comer would soon be landing her troops out of his range, and, having done so, would be -certain to attack the <i>Venture</i> from the Ferryden side of the river. Half of Hall’s -men were on the island, which was in possession of the rebels, his vessel was damaged and -in no condition to escape to sea, even had there been no hostile craft in his way and no -Dial Hill to stand threatening between him and the ocean.</p> - -<p>The time had come for Archie to think of his own plight and of his own prospects. He -was adrift again, cut off even from the disorderly ship that had sheltered him last night, -and from the unlucky sot who commanded her. His best plan would be to take the news of -Hall’s capture to Edinburgh, for it would be madness for him to think of going to Perth, -whilst his identity as a Government agent would be published by Ferrier and Logie all over -that part of the country. He was cast down as he sat with his hand to his aching head, and -now that it had resulted in that fatal meeting, his own folly in going to the island -seemed incredible.</p> - -<p>His luck had been so good all his life, and after the many years that he had trusted -her, the jade had turned on him! He had been too high-handed with her, that was the -explanation of it! He had asked too much. He had been over-confident <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-183">[Pg 183]</a></span>in her, over-confident -in himself. Flemington was neither vain nor conceited, being too heartily interested in -outside things to take very personal points of view; he merely went straight on, with the -joy of life lighting his progress. But now he had put the crown on his foolhardiness. He -had had so many good things—strength, health, wits, charm; the stage of his stirring life -whereon to use them, and behind that stage the peaceful background of the home he loved, -filled with the presence of the being he most admired and revered on earth.</p> - -<p>But new lights had broken in on him of late. Troublous lights, playing from behind a -curtain that hid unknown things. Suddenly he had turned and followed them, impelled by -uncomprehended forces in himself, and it seemed that in consequence all around him had -shifted, disintegrated, leaving him stranded. Once more as he watched, his anxious eyes on -the scene below him, his heart full of his own perplexities, a last roar of shot filled -the harbour, and then, on the <i>Venture</i>, he saw the flag hauled down.</p> - -<p>He rose and looked about him, telling himself that he must get as far from the -neighbourhood of Montrose as he could in the shortest possible time. Sixty miles of land -stretched between him and Edinburgh, and the only thing for him to do was to start by way -of the nearest seaport from which he could sail for Leith. He was a very different figure -from the well-appointed young man who had ridden away from Ardguys only yesterday, for he -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-184">[Pg 184]</a></span>was soaked to -above the knees from wading in the Esk; blood had dripped on his coat from the cut on his -forehead, and his hair at the back was clogged with sand. Excitement had kept him from -thinking how cold he was, and he had not known that he was shivering; but he knew it as he -stood in the teeth of the fresh wind. He laughed in spite of his plight; it was so odd to -think of starting for Edinburgh from a whin-bush.</p> - -<p>He turned southwards, determining to go forward till he should strike the road leading -to the seaport of Aberbrothock; by sticking to the high ground he would soon come to it at -the inland end of the Basin, and by it he might reach Aberbrothock by nightfall, and -thence take sail in the morning. This was the best plan he could devise, though he did not -care to contemplate the miles he would have to trudge. He knew that the broken coast took -a great inward curve, and that by this means he would be avoiding its ins and outs, and he -wished that he did not feel so giddy and so little able to face his difficulties. He -remembered that the money he had on him made a respectable sum, and realized that the less -worth robbing he looked, the more likely he would be to get to his journey’s end in -safety. He stepped out with an effort; southward he must go, and for some time to come -Angus must know him no more.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter214"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter214_hdg"><a href="#Chapter214_toc">CHAPTER XIV<br /> -<span class="chap_title">IN SEARCH OF SENSATION</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">W<small>HEN</small> Skirling Wattie had delivered his letter to -Flemington on the foregoing day, he watched the young man out of sight with disgust, and -cursed him for a high-handed jackanapes. He was not used to be treated in such a fashion. -There was that about Archie which took his fancy, for the suggestion of stir and movement -that went everywhere with Flemington pleased him, and roused his unfailing curiosity. The -beggar’s most pleasant characteristic was his interest in everybody and everything; his -worst, the unseasonable brutality with which he gratified it.</p> - -<p>A livelihood gained by his own powers of cajolery and persistence had left him without -a spark of respect for his kind. He would have been a man of prowess had his limbs been -intact—and destiny, in robbing his body of activity, had transferred that quality to his -brains. His huge shoulders and broad fists, the arrogant male glare of his roving eye, -might well hint at the wisdom of providence in keeping his sphere of action to the narrow -limits of a go-cart. Those who look <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-186">[Pg 186]</a></span>for likenesses between people and animals would be -reminded by him of a wild boar; and it was almost shocking to anyone with a sense of -fitness to hear the mellow and touching voice, rich with the indescribable quiver of -pathos and tragedy, that proceeded from his bristly jaws when he sang. The world that it -conjured up before imaginative listeners was a world of twilight; of stars that drew a -trail of tear-dimmed lustre about the ancient haunted places of the country; stars that -had shone on battlefields and on the partings of lovers; that had looked on the raids of -the border, and had stood over the dark border-towers among the peat. It was a strange -truth that, in the voice of this coarse and humble vagabond, lay the whole distinctive -spirit of the national poetry of Scotland.</p> - -<p>In the last few months his employment had added new zest to his life, for it was not -only the pay he received for his occasional carrying of letters that was welcome to him; -his bold and guileful soul delighted in the occupation for its own sake. He was something -of a student of human nature, as all those who live by their wits must be of necessity; -and the small services he was called upon to give brought him into contact with new -varieties of men. Archie was new to him, and, in the beggar’s opinion, immeasurably more -amusing than anyone he had seen yet. In modern parlance he would be called ‘a sportsman,’ -this low-bred old ruffian who had lost his legs, and who was left to the mercy of his own -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-187">[Pg 187]</a></span>ingenuity and to -the efforts of the five dumb animals which supplemented his loss. He had—all honour to -him—kept his love of life and its chances through his misfortune; and though he did not -know it himself, it was his recognition of the same spirit in Flemington that made him -appreciate the young man.</p> - -<p>His services to the state had not been important up to the present time. A few letters -carried, a little information collected, had been the extent of his usefulness. But, -though he was not in their regular employ, the authorities were keeping a favourable eye -on him, for he had so far proved himself capable, close-mouthed, and a very miracle of -local knowledge.</p> - -<p>He sat in his cart looking resentfully after Flemington between the stems of the alders -and the lattice of their golden-brown leaves, and, though the one word tossed over the -rider’s shoulders did not tell him much, he determined he would not lose sight of Archie -if he could help it. “Brechin” might mean anything from a night’s lodging to a lengthened -stay, but he would follow him as far as he dared and set about discovering his movements. -Skirling Wattie had friends in Brechin, as he had in most places round about, and certain -bolt-holes of his own wherein he could always find shelter for himself and his dogs; but -he did not mean to trust himself nearer than these refuges to Lord Balnillo, at any rate, -not for a few days. Chance had relieved him of the letter for which he was <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-188">[Pg 188]</a></span>responsible sooner -than he expected, and at present he was a free man. He roused his team, tucked his pipes -into their corner of the cart, and, guiding himself carefully between the trees, issued -from the thicket like some ribald vision of goblinry escaped from the world of -folk-lore.</p> - -<p>He turned towards Brechin, and set off for the town at a brisk trot, the yellow dog -straining at his harness, and his comrades taking their pace from him. Every inch of the -road was known to Wattie, every tree and tuft, every rut and hole; and as there were -plenty of these last, he bumped and swung along in a way that would have dislocated the -bones of a lighter person. The violent roughness of his progress was what served him for -exercise and kept him in health. There were not many houses near the highway, but the -children playing round the doors of the few he passed hailed him with shouts, and he -answered them, as he answered everyone, with his familiar wag of the head.</p> - -<p>When he entered Brechin and rolled past the high, circular shaft of its round tower, -the world made way for him with a grin, and when it was not agile enough to please him, he -heralded himself with a shrill note from the chanter, which he had unscrewed from his -pipes. Business was business with him. He meant to lie in the town to-night, but he was -anxious to get on to Flemington’s tracks before the scent was cold.</p> - -<p>He drove to the Swan inn and entered the yard, and there he had the satisfaction of -seeing Archie’s <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-189">[Pg -189]</a></span>horse being rubbed down with a wisp of straw. Its rider, he made out, had -left the inn on foot half an hour earlier, so, with this meagre clue, he sought the -streets and the company of the idlers haunting their thievish corners, to whom the passing -stranger and what might be made out of him were the best interests of the day. By the time -the light was failing he had traced Flemington down to the river, where he had been last -seen crossing the bridge. The beggar was a good deal surprised; he could not imagine what -was carrying Archie away from the place.</p> - -<p>In the dusk he descended the steep streets running down to the Esk, and, slackening his -pace, took out a short, stout pair of crutches that he kept beside him, using them as -brakes on either side of the cart. People who saw Wattie for the first time would stand, -spell-bound, to watch the incredible spectacle of his passage through a town, but, to the -inhabitants of Brechin, he was too familiar a sight for anything but the natural widening -of the mouth that his advent would produce from pure force of habit.</p> - -<p>The lights lit here and there were beginning to repeat themselves in the water, and men -were returning to their houses after the day’s work as he stopped his cart and sent out -that surest of all attractions, the first notes of ‘The Tod,’ into the gathering mists of -the river-side. By ones and twos, the details of a sympathetic audience drew together -round him as his voice rose over the sliding rush of the Esk. Idlers on the bridge <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-190">[Pg 190]</a></span>leaned over the grey -arches as the sound came to them above the tongue of the little rapid that babbled as it -lost itself in the shadow of the woods downstream.</p> - -<p>Then the pipes took up their tune. Jests and roars of laughter oiled the springs of -generosity, and the good prospects of supper and a bed began to smile upon the beggar. -When darkness set in, he turned his wheels towards a shed that a publican had put at his -disposal for the night, and he and his dogs laid themselves down to rest in its -comfortable straw. The yellow cur, relieved from his harness, stole closer and closer to -his master and lay with his jowl against the pipes. Presently Wattie’s dirty hand went out -and sought the coarse head of his servant.</p> - -<p>“Doag,” he was muttering, as he went to sleep.</p> - -<p>Perhaps in all the grim, grey little Scottish town, no living creature closed its eyes -more contentedly than the poor cur whose head was pillowed in paradise because of the -touch that was on it.</p> - -<p>Morning found man and dogs out betimes and migrating to the heart of the town. Wattie -was one who liked to get an early draught from the fountain-head of news, to be -beforehand, so to speak, with his day. The Swan inn was his goal, and he had not got up -the hill towards it when his practised eye, wise in other men’s movements, saw that the -world was hurrying along, drawn by some magnet stronger than its legitimate work. The -women were running out of their houses too. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-191">[Pg 191]</a></span>As he toiled up the steep incline, a figure burst from -the mouth of a wynd and came flying down the middle of the narrow way.</p> - -<p>“Hey! what ails ye, man? What’s ’ahind ye?” he cried, stopping his cart and spreading -out his arms as though to embrace the approaching man.</p> - -<p>The other paused. He was a pale, foolish-looking youth, whose progress seemed as little -responsible as that of a discharged missile.</p> - -<p>“There’s fechtin’!” he yelled, apparently addressing the air in general.</p> - -<p>“Fechtin’?”</p> - -<p>“Ay, there’s fechtin’ at Montrose this hour syne! Div ye no hear them, ye deef muckle -swine?” continued the youth, rendered abusive by excitement.</p> - -<p>The two stared in each other’s faces as those do who listen. Dull and distant, a -muffled boom drove in from the coast. A second throb followed it.</p> - -<p>The youth dropped his raised hands and fled on.</p> - -<p>Wattie turned his dogs, and set off down the hill without more delay. Here was the -reason that Archie had left the town! It was in expectation of this present disturbance on -the coast that he had slipped out of Brechin by the less frequented road round the -Basin.</p> - -<p>He scurried down the hill, scattering the children playing in the kennel with loud -imprecations and threats. He sped over the bridge, and was soon climbing the rise on the -farther side of the Esk. If there was fighting going on, he would <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-192">[Pg 192]</a></span>make shift to see it, and Montrose would -be visible from most of his road. Soon he would get a view of the distant harbour, and -would see the smoke of the guns whose throats continued to trouble the air. Also, he would -get forward unmolested, for there would be the width of the Basin between himself and Lord -Balnillo.</p> - -<p>He breathed his team when he reached the top of the hill; for he was a scientific -driver, and he had some way to go. He cast a glance down at the place he had left, -rejoicing that no one had followed him out of it. When he was on his own errands he did -not like company, preferring, like most independent characters, to develop his intentions -in the perfect freedom of silence.</p> - -<p>When he drew near enough to distinguish the <i>Venture</i>, a dark spot under the lee -of Ferryden, he saw the white puffs of smoke bursting from her, and the answering clouds -rising from the island. There had been no time to hear the rumours of the morning before -he met the pale young man, or he would have learned that a body of Prince Charles’s men -under Ferrier had left Brechin last night whilst he lay sound asleep in the straw among -his dogs. He could not imagine where the assailants had come from who were pounding at the -ship from Inchbrayock.</p> - -<p>The fields sloped away from him to the water, leaving an uninterrupted view. He pressed -on to the cross-roads at which he must turn along the Basin’s shore. From there on, the -conformation <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-193">[Pg 193]</a></span>of -the land, and the frequent clumps of trees, would shut out both town and harbour from his -sight until he came parallel with the island.</p> - -<p>He halted at the turning for a last look at the town. The firing had ceased, which -reconciled him a little to the eclipse of the distant spectacle; then he drove on again, -unconscious of the sight he was to miss. For, unsuspected by him, as by the crowd -thronging the quays of Montrose, the French frigate was creeping up the coast, and she -made her appearance in the river-mouth just as Wattie began the tamer stage of his -journey.</p> - -<p>The yellow cur and his companions toiled along at their steady trot, their red tongues -hanging. The broadside from the French ship rang inland, and the beggar groaned, urging -them with curses and chosen abuse. His intimate knowledge of the neighbourhood led him to -steer for the identical spot on which Flemington, crouched in his whin-bush, had looked -down on the affray, and he hoped devoutly that he might reach that point of vantage while -there was still something to be seen from it. Silence had settled on the strait once -more.</p> - -<p>Not far in front a man was coming into sight, the first creature Wattie had seen since -leaving Brechin, whose face was turned from the coast. He seemed a person of irresolute -mind, as well as of vacillating feet, for every few yards he would stop, hesitating, -before resuming his way. The beggar cursed him heartily for a drunkard, for, though he had -a lively sympathy with backsliders <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-194">[Pg 194]</a></span>of that kind, he knew that accurate information was the -last thing to be expected from them. Before the wayfarers had halved the distance between -them the man stopped, and sitting down by the tumbledown stone dyke at the roadside, -dropped his head in his hands. As the cart passed him a few minutes later, he raised a -ghastly face, and Skirling Wattie pulled up astounded, with a loud and profane -exclamation, as he recognized Flemington.</p> - -<p>Though Archie had been glad to escape from the beggar yesterday, he was now thankful to -see anyone who might pass for a friend. He tried to smile, but his eyes closed again, and -he put out his hand towards the dyke.</p> - -<p>“I’m so devilish giddy,” he said.</p> - -<p>Wattie looked at the cut on his head and the stains of blood on his coat.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ve gotten a rare dunt,” he observed.</p> - -<p>Archie, who seemed to himself to be slipping off the rounded edge of the world, made no -reply.</p> - -<p>The other sat eyeing him with perplexity and some impatience. He did not know what he -wanted most—to get to Montrose, or to get news out of Flemington. The dogs lay down in the -mud. Flemington kept his hand to his eyes for a minute, and then lifted his head -again.</p> - -<p>“The ship has surrendered,” he said, speaking with difficulty; “I have been on the high -ground watching. She struck her flag. A French frigate——”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p> - -<p>He stopped again. The road on which he sat was whirling down into illimitable -space.</p> - -<p>The other took in his plight. His coat, torn in his struggle with Logie, was full of -whin-prickles, and the wet mud was caked on his legs. His soft, silky hair was flattened -on his forehead.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ve been fechtin’ yersel’, ma lad,” said Wattie. “Whaur hae ye been?”</p> - -<p>“There’s a rebel force on Inchbrayock,” said Archie, with another effort; “I have been -on the island. Yes, I’ve been fighting. A man recognized me—a man I saw at—on the road by -Balnillo. They will be hunting me soon, and I have papers on me they must not find, and -money—all the money I have. God knows how I am to get away! I must get to -Aberbrothock.”</p> - -<p>“What was ye sayin’ aboot the French?”</p> - -<p>In broken sentences, and between his fits of giddiness, Archie explained the situation -in the harbour, and the beggar listened, his bristly brows knit, his bonnet thrust back on -his bald head; and his own best course of action grew clear to him. Montrose would soon be -full of rebel soldiers, and though these might be generous audiences when merry with wine -and loose upon the streets, their presence would make him no safer from Lord Balnillo. -Wattie knew that the judge’s loyalty was beginning to be suspected, and that he might well -have friends among the Prince’s officers, whose arrival might attract him to the town. And -to serve Archie would be a good recommendation for himself with his employers, <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-196">[Pg 196]</a></span>to say nothing of any -private gratitude that the young man might feel.</p> - -<p>“Bide you whaur ye are!” he exclaimed, rousing his dogs. “Lad, a’ll hae to ca’ ye oot -o’ this, an’ dod! we’ll need a’ our time!”</p> - -<p>Not far from them a spring was trickling from the fields, dropping in a spurt through -the damp mosses between the unpointed stones of the dyke. The obedient dogs drew their -master close to it, and he filled a battered pannikin that he took from among his small -collection of necessities in the bottom of the cart. He returned with the water, and when -Archie had bathed his head in its icy coldness, he drew a whisky-bottle from its snug lair -under the bagpipes, and forced him to drink. It was half full, for the friendly publican -had replenished his store before they parted on the foregoing night. As the liquid warmed -his stomach, Archie raised his head slowly.</p> - -<p>“I believe I can walk now,” he said at last.</p> - -<p>“Ye’ll need to try,” observed Wattie dryly. “Ye’ll no can ride wi’ me. Come awa’, -Maister Flemington. Will a gi’ ye a skelloch o’ the pipes to help ye alang?”</p> - -<p>“In God’s name, no!” cried Archie, whose head was splitting.</p> - -<p>He struggled on to his feet. The whisky was beginning to overcome the giddiness, and he -knew that every minute spent on the highroad was a risk.</p> - -<p>The beggar was determined to go to Aberbrothock with Archie; he did not consider him in -a <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-197">[Pg 197]</a></span>fit state to -be left alone, and he counselled him to leave the road at once, and to cut diagonally -across the high ground, whilst he himself, debarred by his wheels from going across -country, drove back to the cross roads, and took the one to the coast. By doing this the -pair would meet, Flemington having taken one side of the triangle, while Wattie had -traversed the other two. They were to await each other at a spot indicated by the latter, -where a bit of moor encroached on the way.</p> - -<p>As Wattie turned again to retrace his road, he watched his friend toiling painfully up -the slanting ground among the uneven tussocks of grass with some anxiety. Archie laboured -along, pausing now and again to rest, but he managed to gain the summit of the ridge. -Wattie saw his figure shorten from the feet up as he crossed the sky-line, till his head -and shoulders dropped out of sight like the topsails of a ship over a clear horizon; he -was disappointed at having missed the sight of so much good fighting. Archie’s account had -been rather incoherent, but he gathered that the rebels were in possession of the harbour, -and that a French ship had come in in the middle of the affray full of rebel troops. He -shouted the information to the few people he met.</p> - -<p>He turned southward at the cross roads. Behind him lay the panorama of the Basin and -the spread of the rolling country; Brechin, the Esk, the woods of Monrummon Moor, -stretching out to Forfar, and, northward, the Grampians, <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-198">[Pg 198]</a></span>lying with their long shoulders in the -autumn light. His beat for begging was down there across the water and round about the -country between town and town; but though his activities were in that direction, he knew -Aberbrothock and the coast well, for he had been born in a fishing-village in one of its -creeks, and had spent his early years at sea. He would be able to put Archie in the way of -a passage to Leith without much trouble and without unnecessary explanations; Archie had -money on him, and could be trusted to pay his way.</p> - -<p>He was the first to reach the trysting-place, and he drew up, glad to give his team a -rest; at last he saw Archie coming along with the slow, careful gait of a man who is -obliged to consider each step of his way separately in order to get on at all.</p> - -<p>“Sit ye doon,” he exclaimed, as they met.</p> - -<p>“If once I sit down I am lost,” said Archie. “Come on.”</p> - -<p>He started along the road with the same dogged step, the beggar keeping alongside. They -had gone about half a mile when Flemington clutched at a wayside bush and then slid to the -ground in a heap.</p> - -<p>Wattie pulled up, dismayed, and scanned their surroundings. To let him lie there by the -road was out of the question. He could not tell how much his head had been injured, but he -knew enough to be sure that exposure and cold might bring a serious illness on a man in -his state; he <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-199">[Pg -199]</a></span>did not understand that the whisky he had given Archie was the worst -possible thing for him. To the beggar, it was the sovereign remedy for all trouble of mind -or body.</p> - -<p>He cursed his own circumscribed energies; there was no one in sight. The nearest -habitation was a little farmhouse on the skirts of the moor with one tiny window in its -gable-end making a dark spot, high under the roof.</p> - -<p>Wattie turned his wheels reluctantly towards it. Unwilling though he was to draw -attention to his companion, there was no choice.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter215"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter215_hdg"><a href="#Chapter215_toc">CHAPTER XV<br /> -<span class="chap_title">WATTIE HAS THEORIES</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">T<small>HOUGH</small> Skirling Wattie seldom occupied the same bed on -many consecutive nights, his various resting-places had so great a family likeness that he -could not always remember where he was when he chanced to wake in the small hours. Sheds, -barns, stables harboured him in the cold months when luck was good; loanings, old -quarries, whin-patches, the alder clump beyond Brechin, or the wall-side at Magdalen -Chapel, in the summer.</p> - -<p>To-night he lay in the barn abutting on the tiny farmhouse at which he had sought -shelter for Archie. He had met with a half-hearted reception from the woman who came to -the door. Her man was away, she told him, and she was unwilling to admit strangers in his -absence. She had never seen Wattie before, and it was plain that she did not like his -looks. He induced her at last, with the greatest difficulty, to give shelter in her barn -to the comrade whom he described as lying in extremity at the roadside. Finally, she -despatched her son, a youth of fifteen, to <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-201">[Pg 201]</a></span>accompany the beggar, and to help to bring the sufferer -back.</p> - -<p>Cold water revived Archie again, and he reached the barn with the assistance of the -lad, who, better disposed than his mother, cut a bundle of dry heather, which he spread in -a corner for his comfort. The woman looked with silent surprise at her undesired guest; -she had thought to see a fellow-traveller of different condition in company with the -masterful old blackguard in the cart. Her glances and her expressive silence made Wattie -uneasy, but there was no help for their plight whilst Flemington could scarcely stand.</p> - -<p>The beggar had spent the rest of that day in the barn. He was not suffered to enter the -farm, nor was he offered any food; but he had enough store by him from what he had -collected in Brechin for his own needs and those of his team. Archie’s only requirement -was the bowl of water that his companion had obtained from the boy. He lay alternately -dozing and tossing on his pile of heather. His body was chilled for his high boots had -been full of the Esk water, and Wattie had hesitated to draw them off, lest he should be -unable to get them on again after their soaking.</p> - -<p>Night fell on the barn at last. Wattie slept sound, with the yellow cur’s muzzle -against his shoulder; but he awoke towards midnight, for Archie’s feverish voice was -coming from the corner in which he lay. He inclined his ear, <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-202">[Pg 202]</a></span>attracted by the recurrent name of Logie -which ran through the disconnected babblings, rising again and again like some -half-drowned object carried along a swift stream. The darkness made every word seem more -distinct.</p> - -<p>“Listen to me!” cried Flemington. “Logie! Logie! you do not understand . . . -it is safe . . . it is burnt! Nobody shall know it from me. . . . I -cannot take your money, Logie . . . I will tell you everything, but you will not -understand. . . .”</p> - -<p>The beggar was holding his breath.</p> - -<p>“I did not guess it was Inchbrayock . . . I thought it would not be -Inchbrayock! Logie, I will say nothing . . . but I will tell you all. For God’s -sake, Logie, . . . I swear it is true! . . . Listen. -. . .”</p> - -<p>Skirling Wattie could hear him struggling as though he were fighting for his life.</p> - -<p>“Not to Ardguys . . . I cannot go back to Ardguys! I shall never tell -. . . never, never tell . . . but I shall know where you are! They -shall never know. <i>Ah!</i>” cried Archie, raising his voice like a man in distress -calling for help, “it is you, Logie! . . . My God, let me go!”</p> - -<p>The beggar dragged himself nearer. The fragment of moon did no more than turn the -chinks and cracks of the barn to a dull grey, and he could hardly see the outline of his -companion.</p> - -<p>The nightmares that were tormenting Archie pointed to something that must have happened -before he came by his hurt, and the injury and the chill had produced these light-headed -wanderings; <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-203">[Pg -203]</a></span>there were troubles boiling in his mind that he had kept behind his teeth -so long as his tongue was under control. Wattie wondered what was all this talk of Lord -Balnillo’s brother. It seemed as if there were some secret between this man, suspected, as -he well knew, of being an active rebel, and Flemington. Had it been light, Wattie would -have tried to get at the papers that Archie had spoken of as being on him when they met, -for these might give him some clue to the mystery. He sat in the dark leaning against the -wall of the barn, his arms tightly folded across his great chest, his lips pursed, his -gaze bent on the restless figure that he could just distinguish.</p> - -<p>All at once Archie sat up.</p> - -<p>“Where are you?” he asked in a high, strained voice.</p> - -<p>“A’m here,” replied the beggar.</p> - -<p>“Is it you, Logie?” exclaimed Flemington.</p> - -<p>“It’s mysel’.”</p> - -<p>Wattie smoothed the roughness out of his accent as best he could. The other seemed to -be hovering on the brink of consciousness. He sank back.</p> - -<p>“It is not Logie,” he said; “but you can tell him——”</p> - -<p>Wattie leaned forward and laid his broad palm firmly and very gently on his -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“What’ll a’ tell him?” said he.</p> - -<p>Flemington turned towards him and groped about with his hot hand.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Tell him from me that he can trust me,” he said in a hoarse, earnest whisper.</p> - -<p>The beggar’s touch seemed to quiet him. He lay still, murmuring indistinctly between -snatches of silence. Once again he sat up, groping about.</p> - -<p>“You will not forget?” he said.</p> - -<p>“Na, na,” replied Wattie.</p> - -<p>He pushed him gently back, patting him now and again as a nurse might pat a restless -child, and Archie grew calmer. The hand quieted him. Rough, dirty, guileful, profane as he -was, without scruple or conscience or anything but the desire to do the best for himself, -Skirling Wattie had got, lodged in body or spirit, or in whatsoever part of man the -uncomprehended force dwells, that personal magnetism which is independent alike of grace -and of virtue, which can exist in a soil that is barren of either. It may have been that -which the yellow cur, with the clear vision belonging to some animals, recognized and -adored; seeing not only the coarse and jovial reprobate who was his master, but the shadow -of the mysterious power that had touched him.</p> - -<p>The dog, awakened by Archie’s cry, found that the beggar had moved, and drew closer to -his side. Flemington dozed off again, and Wattie sat thinking; he longed to stir him up, -that he might have the chance of hearing more of his rambling talk. But he refrained, not -from humane feeling, but from the fear that the talker, if he were tampered with, might be -too ill to be moved on the morrow. Sleep was his best chance, and <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-205">[Pg 205]</a></span>Wattie had made up his mind that if it -were possible to move him, he would prevail on the boy to get a beast from the nearest -place that boasted anything which could carry him to Aberbrothock. He knew that Flemington -could pay for it, and he would direct him to a small inn in that place whose landlord, -besides being a retired smuggler, was a distant kinsman of his own. The matter of a -passage to Leith could be arranged through the same source for a consideration. Archie -should take his chance by himself.</p> - -<p>He realized with some bitterness the bright opportunities that can be lost upon a being -who has no legs to speak of; for he could easily have relieved him of what money he -carried had he been an able-bodied man. It was not that he lacked the force for such -deeds, but that honesty was wantonly thrust upon him because his comings and goings were -so conspicuous. Notoriety takes heavy toll; and he had about the same chance as the king -of being conveniently mislaid. He would have given a good deal for a sight of the papers -that Archie carried, and though the darkness interfered with him now, he promised himself -that he would see them if the morning light should find him still delirious. He could not -make out how ill he was; and in spite of his curiosity, he was not prepared to befriend -him with the chance of his growing worse. To have him dying upon his hands would be a -burden too great to endure, even should it lead to no awkward questionings. He would get -rid of him <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-206">[Pg -206]</a></span>to-morrow, whether his curiosity were satisfied or not: he had heard enough -to make him suspect very strongly that Flemington was in the pay of the rebels as well as -in that of the King. It was a situation that he, personally, could very well understand. -But the night turned, and Archie grew more peaceful as the hours went by. He had one or -two bouts of talking, but they were incoherent and fitful, and his mind appeared now to be -straying among different phantoms. There was no more about Logie, and Wattie could only -make out the word ‘Ardguys,’ which he knew as the name of a place beyond Forfar; and as he -had discovered in Brechin that Flemington lived somewhere in those parts, he guessed that -his thoughts were roving about his home. His breathing grew less laboured, and the watcher -could hear at last that he slept. The moon dropped, and with her going the crevices lost -their greyness and the barn grew black. The beggar, who was a healthy sleeper, laid -himself down again, and in the middle of his cogitations passed into oblivion.</p> - -<p>When he awoke the place was light, and Archie was looking at him with intelligent eyes; -they were hollow, and there were dark shadows below them, but they were the eyes of a man -in full possession of his wits.</p> - -<p>“We must get out of this place,” he said. “I have been standing up, but my knees seem -so heavy I can hardly walk. My bones ache, Wattie; I believe there is fever in me, but I -must get on. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-207">[Pg -207]</a></span>Damn it, man, we are a sorry pair to be cast on the world like this! I fear -I took terrible liberties with your whisky yesterday.”</p> - -<p>It was a still, misty morning when the beggar, having harnessed his dogs, went out to -look for the boy. When he was gone, Flemington fumbled with his shaking fingers for the -different packets that he carried. All were there safely—his letters, his money. He -trusted nobody, and he did not like having to trust the beggar.</p> - -<p>His feverish head and the ague in his bones told him that he could scarcely hope to get -to Aberbrothock on foot. His boots were still wet, and a bruise on his hip that he had got -in falling yesterday had begun to make itself felt. He propped himself against the wall -and reached out for the water beside him.</p> - -<p>Wattie had been some time away when the barn door opened and the farm-woman appeared on -the threshold, considering him with suspicious disfavour.</p> - -<p>He dragged himself to his feet and bowed as though he were standing upon an Aubusson -carpet instead of upon a pallet of withered heather. The action seemed to confirm her -distrust.</p> - -<p>“Madam,” said he, “I have to thank you for a night’s shelter and for this excellent -refreshment. You are too good. I drink to you.”</p> - -<p>He raised the broken delf bowl with the drain of water that remained in it. Being -conscious of inhospitality, she was not sure how much <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-208">[Pg 208]</a></span>irony lay in his words, and his face told -her nothing.</p> - -<p>“It’s the last ye’ll get here,” said she.</p> - -<p>The more she looked at Flemington the more she was impressed by his undesirability as a -guest. She was one of those to whom anything uncommon seemed a menace.</p> - -<p>“Madam, I notice that you dislike me—why?”</p> - -<p>“Wha are ye?” she inquired after a pause, during which he faced her, smiling, his -eyebrows raised.</p> - -<p>“We are two noblemen, travelling for pleasure,” said he.</p> - -<p>She crossed her arms, snorting.</p> - -<p>“Heuch!” she exclaimed contemptuously. “A’ wish ma gudeman was hame. He’d sort the pair -o’ ye!”</p> - -<p>“If you think we have any design on your virtue,” he continued, “I beg you to dismiss -the idea. I assure you, you are safe with us. We are persons of the greatest delicacy, and -my friend is a musician of the first rank. I myself am what you see—your humble servant -and admirer.”</p> - -<p>“Ye’re a leear and a Frenchman!” cried she.</p> - -<p>Her eyes blazed. A little more provocation, and she might have attacked him. At this -moment Wattie’s cart drove into the yard behind her, axle deep in the sea of mud and -manure that filled the place. She turned upon the new-comer. She could not deal with -Archie, but the beggar was a foe she could understand, and she advanced, a whirl of abuse, -upon him. The <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-209">[Pg -209]</a></span>yellow dog’s growling rose, battling with her strident tones, and Archie, -seeing the mischief his tongue had wrought, limped out, fearful of what might happen.</p> - -<p>“Stand awa’ frae the doag, wumman! He’ll hae the legs o’ ye roogit aff yer henches gin -he get’s a haud o’ ye!” roared Wattie, as the yellow body leaped and bounded in the -traces.</p> - -<p>Amid a hurricane of snarling and shouts he contrived, by plying his stick, to turn the -animals and to get them out of the yard.</p> - -<p>Archie followed him, but before he did so he paused to turn to his enemy, who had taken -shelter in the doorway of the barn. He could not take off his hat to her because he had no -hat to take off, having lost it on Inchbrayock Island, but he blew a kiss from the points -of his fingers with an air that almost made her choke. Wattie, looking back over his -shoulder, called angrily to him. He could not understand what he had done to the woman to -move her to such a tempest of wrath, but he told himself that, in undertaking to escort -Archie, he had made a leap in the dark. He would direct him to his cousin’s house of -entertainment in Aberbrothock, and return to his own haunts without delay.</p> - -<p>At the nearest point of road the boy was standing by a sorry-looking nag that he held -by the ear.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later they had parted, and the boy, made happy by the coin he had been -given, was returning to the farm, while the beggar, who had also reaped some profit in the -last twenty-four <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-210">[Pg -210]</a></span>hours, watched his late companion disappearing down the road. When he was -out of sight he turned his own wheels in the direction of Brechin, and set off at a sober -pace for that friendly town. He was singing to himself as he went, first because he owned -the price of another bottle of whisky; secondly, because he was delighted to be rid of -Flemington; and thirdly, because an inspiring idea had come to him.</p> - -<p>His dogs, by the time they drew him into Brechin, would have done two heavy days’ work, -and would deserve the comparative holiday he meant to give them. He would spend to-morrow -in the town with his pipes in the company of that congenial circle always ready to spring -from the gutter on his appearance. Then, after a good night’s rest, and when he should -have collected a trifle, he would go on to Forfar and learn for certain whether Archie -lived at Ardguys and who might be found there in his absence.</p> - -<p>His idea was to arrive at the house with the last tidings of the young man; to give an -account of the attack on the <i>Venture</i>, its surrender, Flemington’s injury, and his -own part in befriending him. It took some time, in those days of slow communication, for -public news to travel so much as across a county, but even should the tale of the ship -have reached Ardguys, the news of Archie could scarcely have preceded him. He hoped to -find someone—for preference an anxious mother, who would be sensible of how much he had -done for her son. There would be fresh profit there.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> - -<p>And not only profit. There was something else for which the beggar hoped, though profit -was his main object. He pictured some tender, emotional lady from whose unsuspicious heart -he might draw scraps of information that would fit into his own theories. He would try the -effect of Logie’s name, and there would be no harm in taking a general survey of -Flemington’s surroundings and picking up any small facts about him that he could -collect.</p> - -<p>His own belief in Archie’s double dealing grew stronger as he jogged along; no doubt -that shrewd and unaccountable young man was driving a stiff trade. There was little -question in his mind that the contents of the letter he had put into his hands by the -alder-clump had been sold to Captain James Logie, and that its immediate result had been -the taking of the ship. He had learned from Archie’s ravings that there had been a -question of money between himself and Logie. The part that he could make nothing of was -the suggestion, conveyed by Archie in the night, that he and the judge’s brother had been -fighting. “Let me go, Logie!” he had cried out in the darkness, and the blow on his -forehead, which was bleeding when he found him, proved recent violence.</p> - -<p>But though he could not explain these puzzles, nor make them tally with his belief, his -theory remained. Flemington was in league with Logie. For the present he determined to -keep his suspicions to himself.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter216"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter216_hdg"><a href="#Chapter216_toc">CHAPTER XVI<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE TWO ENDS OF THE LINE</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">T<small>HREE</small> days afterwards Wattie sat at the gates of -Ardguys and looked between the pale yellow ash-trees at the house. There was nobody about -at the moment to forbid his entrance, and he drove quietly in at a foot’s pace and -approached the door. The sun shone with the clear lightness of autumn, and the leaves, -which had almost finished the fitful process of falling, lay gathered in heaps by the -gate, for Madam Flemington liked order. On the steep pitch of the ancient slate roof a few -pigeons, white and grey, sat in pairs or walked about with spasmodic dignity. The whole -made a picture, high in tone, like a water-colour, and the clean etched lines of the -stripped branches gave it a sharp delicacy and threw up the tall, light walls. All these -things were lost upon the beggar.</p> - -<p>He had informed himself in Forfar. He knew that the place was owned and lived in by a -lady of the name of Flemington, who was the grandmother of the young man from whom he had -lately parted. He had learned nothing of her <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-213">[Pg 213]</a></span>character and politics because of the seclusion in which -she lived, and he stared about him on every side and scanned the house for any small sign -that might give him a clue to the tastes or occupations of its inhabitant. Whilst he was -so engaged the front-door opened and the sound sent all the pigeons whirling from the roof -into the air in flashes of grey-blue and white. Madam Flemington stood on the top -step.</p> - -<p>The beggar’s hand went instinctively to his bonnet. He was a little taken aback—why, he -did not know—and he instantly abandoned his plan of an emotional description of Archie’s -plight. She stood quite still, looking down at him.</p> - -<p>Her luxuriant silver hair was covered by a three-cornered piece of black lace that was -tied in a knot under her chin, and she wore the ‘calash,’ or hood, with which the ladies -of those days protected their headdresses when they went out. A short furred cloak was -round her.</p> - -<p>She considered Wattie with astonishment. Then she beckoned to him to approach.</p> - -<p>“Who and what are you?” she asked, laying her hand on the railing that encircled the -landing of the steps.</p> - -<p>That question was so seldom put to him that it struck him unawares, like a stone from -behind a hedge. He hesitated.</p> - -<p>“A’ve got news for yer leddyship,” he began.</p> - -<p>“I asked your name,” said Madam Flemington.</p> - -<p>“Wattie Caird,” replied he. “Skirling Wattie, they ca’ me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> - -<p>The countryside and its inhabitants did not appeal to Christian, but this amazing -intruder was like no one she had ever seen before. She guessed that he was a beggar, and -she brushed aside his announcement of news as merely a method of attracting attention.</p> - -<p>“You are one of the few persons in these parts who can afford to keep a coach,” she -remarked.</p> - -<p>A broad smile overspread his ribald countenance, like the sun irradiating a -public-house.</p> - -<p>“Dod, ma leddy, a’d think shame to visit ye on fut,” said he, with a wag of his -head.</p> - -<p>“You have better reasons than that,” she replied rather grimly.</p> - -<p>“Aye, aye, they’re baith awa’,” said he, looking at the place where his legs should -have been. “A’m an ill sicht for the soutars!”</p> - -<p>She threw back her head and laughed a little.</p> - -<p>She had seen no one for months, with the exception of Archie, who was so quick in mind -and speech, and the humour of this vagabond on wheels took her fancy. There was no whining -servility about him, in spite of his obvious profession.</p> - -<p>The horrified face of a maidservant appeared for one moment at a window, then vanished, -struck back by the unblessed sight of her mistress, that paralyzing, unapproachable power, -jesting, apparently, with Skirling Wattie, the lowest of the low. The girl was a native of -Forfar, the westernmost point of the beggar’s travels, and she had often seen him in the -streets.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You face life boldly,” said Madam Flemington.</p> - -<p>“An’ what for no? Fegs, greetin’ fills naebody’s kyte.”<a id="footnote2_text" -href="#footnote2_note">*</a></p> - -<p>She laughed again.</p> - -<p>“You shall fill yours handsomely,” said she; “go to the other door and I will send -orders to the women to attend to you.”</p> - -<p>“Aye, will I,” he exclaimed, “but it wasna’ just for a piece that a’ cam’ a’ the way -frae the muir o’ Rossie.”</p> - -<p>“From where?” said she.</p> - -<p>“The muir o’ Rossie,” repeated he. “Ma leddy, it was awa’ yonder at the tail o’ the -muir that a’ tell’t Maister Flemington the road to Aberbrothock.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Flemington?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, yon lad Flemington—an’ a deevil o’ a lad he is to tak’ the road wi’! Ma leddy, -there’s been a pucklie fechtin’ aboot Montrose, an’ the Prince’s men hae gotten a haud o’ -King George’s ship that’s in by Ferryden. As a’ gaed doon to the toon, a’ kaipit<a -id="footnote3_text" href="#footnote3_note">†</a> wi’ Flemington i’ the road. He’d gotten a -clour on ’s heed. He was fechtin’ doon aboot Inchbrayock, he tell’t me.”</p> - -<p>“Fighting? With whom?” asked Madam Flemington, fixing her tiger’s eyes on him.</p> - -<p>The beggar had watched her face narrowly while he spoke for the slightest flicker of -expression that might indicate the way her feelings were turning.</p> - -<p>“He was fechtin’ wi’ Captain Logie,” he continued <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-216">[Pg 216]</a></span>boldly, “a fell man yon—ye’ll ken him, -yer leddyship?”</p> - -<p>“By name,” said Christian.</p> - -<p>“A’m thinkin’ it was frae him that he got the clour on ’s heed. A’ gie’d him ma guid -whisky bottle, an’ a’ got water to him frae a well. A’ ca’d him awa’ frae the roadside—he -didna ken wha would be aifter him ye see—an’ a’ gar’d a clatterin’ auld wife at the muir -side gie’s a shelter yon nicht. A’ didna’ leave the callant, ma’ leddy, till a’ got a -shelt to him. He’s to Edinburgh. A’ tell’t him wha ’d get him a passage to Leith—a’m an -Aberbrothock man, mysel’, ye ken.”</p> - -<p>“And did he send you to me?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, did he,” said he, lying boldly.</p> - -<p>There was no sign of emotion, none even of surprise, on her face. Her heart had beaten -hard as the beggar talked, and the weight of wrath and pain that she had carried since she -had parted with Archie began to lighten. He had listened to her—he had not gone against -her. How deep her words had fallen into his heart she could not tell, but deep enough to -bring him to grips with the man who had made the rift between them.</p> - -<p>“Are you sure of what you say?” she asked quickly; “did you see them fight?”</p> - -<p>“Na, na, but ’twas the lad himsel’ that tell’t me. He was on the ship.”</p> - -<p>“He was on the ship?”</p> - -<p>“Aye, was he. And he gae’d oot wi’ the sodgers to deave they rebels frae Inchbrayock. -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-217">[Pg 217]</a></span>They got the -ship, ma leddy, but they didna get him. He escapit.”</p> - -<p>“Did you say he was much hurt?” said Madam Flemington.</p> - -<p>“Hoots! ye needna’ fash yersel’, ma leddy! A’ was feared for him i’ the nicht, but -there wasna’ muckle wrang wi’ him when he gae’d awa’, or, dod, a’ wouldna’ hae left -him!”</p> - -<p>He had no mind to spoil his presentment of himself as Good Samaritan.</p> - -<p>So far he had learnt nothing. He had spoken of the Prince’s men as rebels without a -sign of displeasure showing on Madam Flemington’s face. Archie might be playing a double -game and she might be doing the same, but there was nothing to suggest it. She was -magnificently impersonal. She had not even shown the natural concern that he expected with -regard to her own flesh and blood.</p> - -<p>“Go now,” said she, waving her hand towards the back part of the house; “you shall feed -well, you and your dogs; and when you have finished you can come to these steps again, and -I will give you some money. You have done well by me.”</p> - -<p>She re-entered the house and he drove away to the kitchen-door, dismissed.</p> - -<p>If Wattie hoped to discover anything more there about the lady and her household, he -was disappointed. The servants raised their chins in refined disapproval of the vagrant -upon whom their mistress had seen fit to waste words under the very front windows of -Ardguys. They resolved <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-218">[Pg -218]</a></span>that he should find the back-door, socially, a different place, and only -the awe in which they stood of Christian compelled them to obey her to the letter. A crust -or two would have interpreted her wishes, had they dared to please themselves. But Madam -Flemington knew every resource of her larder and kitchen, for French housekeeping and the -frugality of her exiled years had taught her thrift. She would measure precisely what had -been given to her egregious guest, down to the bones laid, by her order, before his -dogs.</p> - -<p>The beggar ate in silence, amid the brisk cracking made by five pairs of busy jaws; the -maids were in the stronghold of the kitchen, far from the ungenteel sight of his coarse -enjoyment. When he had satisfied himself, he put the fragments into his leathern bag and -went round once more to the front of the house.</p> - -<p>A window was open on the ground-floor, and Madam Flemington’s large white hand came -over the sill holding a couple of crown pieces. She was sitting on the window-seat within. -Her cloak and the calash had disappeared, and Wattie could see the fine poise of her head. -She dropped the coin into the cart as he drove below.</p> - -<p>As he looked up he thought that if she had been imposing in her outdoor garments she -was a hundredfold more so without them. He was at his ease with her, but he wondered at -it, though he was accustomed to being at his ease with everybody. A certain vanity rose in -him, coarse <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-219">[Pg -219]</a></span>remnant of humanity as he was, before this magnificent woman, and when he -had received the silver, he turned about, facing her, and began to sing.</p> - -<p>He was used to the plebeian admiration of his own public, but a touch of it from her -would have a different flavour. He was vain of his singing, and that vanity was the one -piece of romance belonging to him; it hung over his muddy soul as a weaving of honeysuckle -may hang over a dank pond. Had he understood Madam Flemington perfectly, he might have -sung ‘The Tod,’ but as he only understood her superficially, he sang ‘Logie Kirk.’ He did -not know how nearly the extremities of the social scale can draw together in the primitive -humours of humanity. It is the ends of a line that can best be bent to meet, not one end -and the middle.</p> - -<p>Yet, as ‘Logie Kirk’ rang out among the spectral ash-trees, she sat still, astonished, -her head erect, like some royal animal listening; it moved her, though its sentiment had -naught to do with her mood at present, nor with her cast of mind at any time. But love and -loss are things that lay their shadows everywhere, and Madam Flemington had lost much; -moreover, she had been a woman framed for love, and she had not wasted her gifts.</p> - -<p>As his voice ceased, she rose and threw the window up higher.</p> - -<p>“Go on,” she said.</p> - -<p>He paused, taking breath, for a couple of minutes. He knew songs to suit all political -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-220">[Pg 220]</a></span>creeds, but this -time he would try one of the Jacobite lays that were floating round the country; if it -should provoke some illuminating comment from her, he would have learned something more -about her, and incidentally about Archie, though it struck him that he was not so sure of -the unanimity of interest between the grandmother and grandson which he had taken for -granted before seeing Madam Flemington.</p> - -<p>His cunning eyes were rooted on her as he sang again.</p> - -<div class="verse2"> -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“My love stood at the loanin’ side</p> - -<p class="i1a">And held me by the hand,</p> - -<p class="i0a">The bonniest lad that e’er did bide</p> - -<p class="i1a">In a’ this waefu’ land;</p> - -<p class="i0a">There’s but ae bonnier to be seen</p> - -<p class="i1a">Frae Pentland to the sea,</p> - -<p class="i0a">And for his sake but yestereen</p> - -<p class="i1a">I sent my love frae me.</p> -</blockquote> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“I gie’d my love the white, white rose</p> - -<p class="i1a">That’s at my feyther’s wa’,</p> - -<p class="i0a">It is the bonniest flower that grows</p> - -<p class="i1a">Where ilka flower is braw;</p> - -<p class="i0a">There’s but ae brawer that I ken</p> - -<p class="i1a">Frae Perth unto the main,</p> - -<p class="i0a">And that’s the flower o’ Scotland’s men</p> - -<p class="i1a">That’s fechtin’ for his ain.</p> -</blockquote> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“If I had kept whate’er was mine,</p> - -<p class="i1a">As I had gie’d my best,</p> - -<p class="i0a">My hairt were licht by day, and syne</p> - -<p class="i1a">The nicht wad bring me rest;</p> - -<p class="i0a">There is nae heavier hairt to find</p> - -<p class="i1a">Frae Forfar toon to Ayr,</p> - -<p class="i0a">As aye I sit me doon to mind</p> - -<p class="i1a">On him I see nae mair.</p> -</blockquote> - -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“Lad, gin ye fa’ by Chairlie’s side,</p> - -<p class="i1a">To rid this land o’ shame,</p> - -<p class="i0a">There will na be a prouder bride</p> - -<p class="i1a">Than her ye left at hame;</p> - -<p class="i0a">But I will see ye whaur ye sleep</p> - -<p class="i1a">Frae lowlands to the peat,</p> - -<p class="i0a">And ilka nicht at mirk I’ll creep</p> - -<p class="i1a">To lay me at yer feet.”</p> -</blockquote> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-221">[Pg 221]</a></span></p> - -<p>“You sing well,” said Christian when he had stopped; “now go.”</p> - -<p>She inclined her head and turned from the window. As his broad back, so grotesque in -its strange nearness to the ground, passed out between the gate-posts of Ardguys, she went -over to the mantelpiece.</p> - -<p>Her face was set, and she stood with clasped hands gazing into the fireplace. She was -deeply moved, but not by the song, which only stirred her to bitterness, but by the -searching tones of the beggar’s voice, that had smitten a way through which her feelings -surged to and from her heart. The thought that Archie had not utterly broken away from her -unnerved her by the very relief it brought. She had not known till now how much she had -suffered from what had passed between them. Her power was not all gone. She was not quite -alone. She would have scorned to admit that she could not stand in complete isolation, and -she admitted nothing, even to herself. She only stood still, her nerves quivering, making -no outward sign.</p> - -<p>Presently she rang a little hand-bell that was on the table.</p> - -<p>The genteel-minded maid appeared.</p> - -<p>“Mysie,” said Madam Flemington, “in three days I shall go to Edinburgh.”</p> - -<hr class="small" /> - -<p class="footnote" id="footnote2_note"><a href="#footnote2_text">*</a> Stomach.</p> - -<p class="footnote" id="footnote3_note"><a href="#footnote3_text">†</a> Met.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter217"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-222">[Pg 222]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter217_hdg"><a href="#Chapter217_toc">CHAPTER XVII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">SOCIETY</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">L<small>ORD</small> B<small>ALNILLO</small> looked out of his sedan -chair as it emerged from the darkness of a close on the northern slope of the Old Town of -Edinburgh. Far down in front of him, where the long alley stopped, a light or two was seen -reflected in the black water of the Nor’ Loch that lay between the ancient city and the -ground on which the new one was so soon to rise. The shuffling footfalls of his chairmen, -echoing off the sides of the covered entry, were drowned in the noise that was going on a -little way farther forward, where the close widened out into a square courtyard. One side -of this place was taken up by the house of Lady Anne Maxwell, for which the judge was -bound.</p> - -<p>It had been raining, and Edinburgh was most noisomely dirty under foot, so Balnillo’s -regard for his silk-clad legs and the buckled shoes on his slim feet, had made him decide -to be carried to his kinswoman’s party. He wore his favourite mouse colour, but the -waistcoat under his velvet coat was of primrose satin, and the lace under <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-223">[Pg 223]</a></span>his chin had cost him -more than he liked to remember.</p> - -<p>The courtyard sent up a glow of light into the atmosphere of the damp evening, for the -high houses towering round it rose black into the sky, limiting the shine and -concentrating it into one patch. From above, it must have looked like a dimly illuminated -well. It was full of sedan chairs, footmen, lantern-carriers and caddies, and the -chattering, pushing, jesting, and oaths were keeping the inhabitants of the neighbouring -‘lands’—such of them as were awake, for Edinburgh kept early hours in those days—from -going to sleep.</p> - -<p>The sedan chairs were set down at the door, for they could seldom be carried into the -low and narrow entrances of even the best town houses, and here, at Lady Anne’s, the -staircase wound up inside a circular tower projecting from the wall.</p> - -<p>The caddies, or street-messengers of Edinburgh, that strange brotherhood of useful, -omniscient rascals, without whose services nothing could prosper, ran in and out among the -crowd in search of odd jobs. Their eyes were everywhere, their ears heard everything, -their tongues carried news of every event. The caddies knew all that happened in society, -on the bench, in shops, in wynds, in churches, and no traveller could be an hour in the -town before they had made his name and business common property. In an hour and a half his -character would have gone the same way. Their home by day was at the Market <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-224">[Pg 224]</a></span>Cross in the High -Street, where they stood in gossiping groups until a call let one of them loose upon -somebody else’s business. It was the perpetual pursuit of other people’s business that had -made them what they were.</p> - -<p>A knot of caddies pressed round the door of Lady Anne Maxwell’s house as Lord Balnillo, -sitting erect in order not to crease his clothes and looking rather like an image carried -in a procession, was kept at a standstill whilst another guest was set down. Through the -open window of his chair there pressed a couple of inquisitive faces.</p> - -<p>“Hey, lads!” cried a caddie, “it’s Davie Balnillo back again!”</p> - -<p>“Losh, it’s himsel’! Aweel, ma lord, we’re fine an’ pleased to see ye! Grange is awa’ -in ben the hoose. I’se warrant he doesna’ ken wha’s ahint him!”</p> - -<p>Balnillo nodded affably. The instant recognition pleased the old man, for he had only -reached Edinburgh in time to dress for his cousin’s party; also, Lord Grange was a friend -of his, and he was glad to hear that he was in front. As he looked complacently upon the -crowd, his chairmen suddenly stepped forward, almost throwing him out of his seat.</p> - -<p>A cry rose round him.</p> - -<p>“Canny! Canny! ye Hieland deevils! Ye’ll hae the pouthered wiggie o’ him swiggit aff -his heed! Haud on, Davie; we’ll no let ye cowp!”</p> - -<p>Balnillo was rather annoyed, for he had been <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-225">[Pg 225]</a></span>knocked smartly against the window-frame, and a little -cloud of powder had been shaken on his velvet sleeve; but he knew that the one thing a man -might not lose before the caddies was his temper, if he did not want his rage, his -gestures, and all the humiliating details of his discomfiture to be the town talk next -day. He looked as bland as he could while he resettled himself.</p> - -<p>“It’ll no be waur nor ridin’ the circuit, ma lord?” inquired a voice.</p> - -<p>A laugh went round the group, and the chair moved on and was set down at its -destination. Though the caddies’ knowledge of the judge went as far down as his foibles, -the one thing that they did not happen to know was the motive that had brought him to -Edinburgh.</p> - -<p>The doings in the harbour had disturbed Balnillo mightily; for, though the success of -Ferrier and James in taking the <i>Venture</i> rejoiced him, he was dismayed by what he -had heard about Archie Flemington. His brother had told him everything. When Captain Hall -and his men had been conveyed as prisoners to the town, and the ship had been taken -possession of by Prince Charles’ agent in Montrose, Logie had gone hastily to Balnillo to -give the news to David, and to prepare for his own departure to join the Stuart army. -There was no longer any need for secrecy on his part, and it had always been his intention -to declare himself openly as soon as he had done his work in Montrose. The place was well -protected, and, besides the town guns that he and Ferrier <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-226">[Pg 226]</a></span>had taken from Hall, there were the two -armed vessels—both now belonging to the Prince—lying in the harbour.</p> - -<p>The arrival of the frigate with her supplies had turned Montrose from a -rebelliously-inclined town into a declared Jacobite stronghold. The streets and taverns -were full of Lord John Drummond’s troops, the citizens had given vent to their feelings -upon the town bells, bonfires blazed in the streets, and Prince Charlie’s name was on -every lip; girls wore white roses on their breasts, and dreamed at night of the -fascinating young spark who had come to set Scotland alight. The intense Jacobitism of -Angus seemed to have culminated in the quiet seaport.</p> - -<p>In all this outburst of loyalty and excitement the cautious Balnillo did not know what -to do. The risk of announcing his leanings publicly was a greater one than he cared to -take, for his stake in the country and the land was considerable, and he was neither -sanguine enough to feel certain of the ultimate triumph of the Stuarts like the Montrose -people, nor generous enough to disregard all results like James. As he told himself, after -much deliberation, he was “best away.”</p> - -<p>He had heard from James of Archie’s sudden appearance upon the island, armed with a -Government weapon and in company with the attacking force from the ship, and had listened -to James’s grim denunciation of him as a spy, his passionate regrets that he had not blown -his brains out there and then. James’s bitterness had been so <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-227">[Pg 227]</a></span>great that David told himself he could -scarcely recognize his quiet brother.</p> - -<p>There was abundant reason for it, but Logie had seemed to be beside himself. He had -scarcely eaten or slept during the short time that he had been with him, and his face had -kept the judge’s tongue still. After his account of what had happened, Balnillo had not -returned to the subject again.</p> - -<p>Step by step the judge had gone over all the circumstances of Flemington’s sudden -emergence from the Den on that windy night, and had seen how he had himself been cozened -and flattered into the business of the portrait which stood unfinished, in solitary and -very marked dignity, in the room with the north light. He was a man who suspected some of -his own weaknesses, though his knowledge did not prevent him from giving way to them when -he thought he could do so safely, and he remembered the adroit bits of flattery that his -guest had strewn in his path, and how obligingly he had picked them up. He was shrewd -enough to see all that. He thought of the sudden departure when Madam Flemington’s -mysterious illness had spirited Archie out of the house at a moment’s notice, and he saw -how he had contrived to imbue both himself and James with the idea that he shared their -political interests, without saying one definite word; he thought of his sigh and the -change in his voice as he spoke of his father’s death “in exile with his master.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> - -<p>These things stood up in a row before Balnillo, and ranged themselves into a sinister -whole. The plain truth of it was that he had entertained a devil unawares.</p> - -<p>There had been a great search for Flemington when the skirmish on Inchbrayock was over. -It was only ceasing when the French frigate swam into the river-mouth like a huge -water-bird, and James, plunged in the struggle, was unable to spare a thought to the -antagonist he had flung from him at the first sound of the attack.</p> - -<p>But when the firing had stopped, and the appearance of the foreign ship made the issue -of the conflict certain, he returned to the spot where he had left Archie, and found him -gone. He examined the sand for some trace of the vanished man’s feet, but the tide was now -high in the river, and his footprints had been swallowed by the incoming rush. The -stepping-stones were completely covered, and he knew that these—great fragments of rock as -they were—would now be lying under enough water to drown a man who should miss his footing -while the tide surged through this narrow stretch of the Esk’s bed. He guessed that the -spy had escaped by them, though a short time later the attempt would have been impossible. -He made a hasty search of the island, and, finding no sign of Flemington, he returned with -his men and the prisoners they had taken, leaving the dead to be carried over later to the -town for burial. The boats were on the Montrose side of Inchbrayock, and, their progress -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-229">[Pg 229]</a></span>being hampered -by the wounded, some time was lost before he could spare a handful of followers to begin -the search for Flemington. He picked up a few volunteers upon the quays, and despatched -them immediately to cross the strait and to search the southern shores of both the river -and the Basin; but they had barely started when Flemington and the beggar were nearing the -little farm on Rossie moor. Archie had spent so little time on the open road, thanks to -his companion’s advice, that none of those whom the pursuers met and questioned had seen -him. Before dusk came on, their zeal had flagged; and though one, quicker-witted than his -comrades, had suggested the moor as a likely goal for their quarry, he had been overborne -by their determination that the fugitive, a man who had been described to them as coming -from the other side of the county, would make in that direction.</p> - -<p>When James had gone to join the Stuart army on its march to England, his brother, -waiting until the Prince had left Holyrood, set forth for Edinburgh. It would have been -difficult for him to remain at home within sound of the noisy rejoicings of Montrose -without either joining in the general exultation or holding himself conspicuously aloof. -Prudence and convenience pointed to the taking of a little holiday, and his own -inclination did not gainsay them.</p> - -<p>He had not been in Edinburgh since his retirement, and the notion of going there, once -formed, grew more and more to his taste. A hundred <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-230">[Pg 230]</a></span>things in his old haunts drew him: -gossip, the liberal tables of his former colleagues, the latest modes in coats and -cravats, the musical assemblies at which he had himself performed upon the flute, the -scandals and anecdotes of the Parliament House and the society of elegant women. He loved -all these, though his trees and parks had taken their places of late. He loved James too, -and the year they had spent together had been agreeable to him; but politics and family -affection—the latter of the general rather than the individual kind—strong as their bonds -were, could not bring the brothers into true touch with each other. James was preoccupied, -silent, restless, and David had sometimes felt him to be inhuman in his lack of interest -in small things, and in his carelessness of all but the great events of life. And now, as -Balnillo stepped forth at Lady Anne Maxwell’s door, he was hugging himself at the prospect -of his return to the trimmings and embroideries of existence. He walked up the circular -staircase, and emerged into the candle-light of the long, low room in which his cousin’s -guests were assembled.</p> - -<p>Lady Anne was a youngish widow, with a good fortune and a devouring passion for cards. -She had all the means of indulging her taste, for not only did she know every living being -who went to the making of Edinburgh society, but, unlike most of her neighbours, she owned -the whole of the house in which she lived, and, consequently, had space wherein to -entertain them. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-231">[Pg -231]</a></span>While nearly all the Edinburgh world dwelt in its flat, and while many -greater ladies than herself were contented to receive their guests in their bedchambers, -and to dance and drink tea in rooms not much bigger than the boudoirs of their -descendants, Lady Anne could have received Prince Charles Edward himself in suitable -circumstances had she been so minded. But she was very far from having any such -aspiration, and had not set foot in Holyrood while the Prince was there, for she was a -staunch Whig. As she greeted her cousin Balnillo, she was wondering how far certain -rumours that she had heard about him were true, and whether he also had been privy to the -taking of the sloop-of-war in Montrose harbour, for it was just a week since the news of -Logie’s exploit had reached Edinburgh. One of David’s many reasons for coming to her party -was his desire to make his reappearance in the polite world in a markedly Whig house.</p> - -<p>He stood talking to Lord Grange in the oak-panelled room half full of people; through -an open door another smaller apartment could be seen crowded with tables and card-players. -Lady Anne, all of whose guests were arrived, had vanished into it, and the two judges -stood side by side. Lord Grange, who valued his reputation for sanctity above rubies, did -not play cards—at least, not openly—and Balnillo, discovering new faces, as those must who -have been over a year absent from any community, was glad to have him at his elbow to -answer questions. Silks rustled, fans clicked, and the medley of noises in <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-232">[Pg 232]</a></span>the court below came -up, though the windows were shut.</p> - -<p>The candles, dim enough to our modern standards of lighting, shone against the darkness -of polished wood, and laughter and talk were escaping, like running water out of a -thicket, from a knot of people gathered round a small, plump, aquiline-nosed woman. The -group was at the end of the room, and now and again an individual would detach himself -from it, to return, drawn by some jest that reached him ere he had crossed the floor.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Cockburn’s wit has not rusted this twelvemonth,” observed Lord Grange.</p> - -<p>“I marvel she has any left after nine years of housekeeping with her straitlaced -father-in-law,” replied Balnillo in a preoccupied voice.</p> - -<p>His eyes were elsewhere.</p> - -<p>“Ah!” said Grange, pulling a righteous face.</p> - -<p>The group round Mrs. Cockburn opened, and she caught sight of him for the first time. -She bowed and smiled civilly, showing her rather prominent teeth, then, noticing Balnillo, -she came over to the two men. Her friends stepped apart to let her pass, watching her go -with that touch of proprietary pride which a small intimate society feels in its more -original members. It was evident that her least acts were deemed worthy of -observation.</p> - -<p>As she greeted David, he turned round with a low bow.</p> - -<p>“My lord, I thought you were buried!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Dead and buried,” droned Grange, for the sake of saying something.</p> - -<p>“Not dead,” exclaimed she, “else I had been in mourning!”</p> - -<p>Balnillo bowed again, bringing his attention back with a jerk from the direction in -which it had been fixed.</p> - -<p>“Come, my lord, what have you been doing all this long time?”</p> - -<p>“I have been endeavouring to improve my estate, ma’am.”</p> - -<p>“And meanwhile you have left us to deteriorate. For shame, sir!”</p> - -<p>“Edinburgh morals are safe in Lord Grange’s hands,” rejoined Balnillo, with a sudden -flash of slyness.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Cockburn smiled behind her fan. There were odd stories afloat about Grange. She -looked appreciatively at Balnillo. He had not changed, in spite of his country life; he -was as dapper, as ineffective, and as unexpected as ever. She preferred him infinitely to -Grange.</p> - -<p>“Fie, Davie!” broke in the latter, with a leer; “you are an ungallant dog! Here is Mrs. -Cockburn wasting her words on you, and you do nothing but ogle the lady yonder by the -window.”</p> - -<p>Three pairs of eyes—the bright ones of Mrs. Cockburn, the rather furtive ones of -Balnillo, and the sanctimonious orbs of Lord Grange—turned in one direction.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Cockburn is all knowledge, as she is all goodness,” observed the last named, -pompously. “Pray, ma’am, tell us who is that lady?”</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter218"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter218_hdg"><a href="#Chapter218_toc">CHAPTER XVIII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">BALNILLO FINDS PERFECTION</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">A <small>SCONCE</small> of candles beside a window-recess shed a -collective illumination from the wall, and Christian Flemington stood full in their light, -contemplating the company with superb detachment, and pervaded by that air, which never -left her, of facing the world, unaided and unabashed, with such advantages as God had -given her. Her neck, still white and firm, was bare, for she wore no jewels but the ruby -earrings which shot blood-red sparks around her when she moved. Long necks were in fashion -in those days, and hers was rather short, but the carriage of her head added enough to its -length to do more than equalize the difference. Her hair was like massed silver, and her -flesh—of which a good deal could be seen—rose like ivory above the wine-colour of her silk -gown, which flowed in spreading folds from her waist to the ground. A Spanish fan with -carved tortoiseshell sticks, a thing of mellow browns and golds, was half closed between -her fingers. When she opened it, it displayed the picture of a bull-fight.</p> - -<p>“That is Mrs. Flemington—Madam Flemington, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-235">[Pg 235]</a></span>as I am told many people call her—I presume, because she -came to Scotland from France. You should know her, my lord,” she added, addressing -Balnillo; “you are from Angus.”</p> - -<p>But Balnillo was speechless.</p> - -<p>Grange, who was transferring a pinch of snuff from his box to his nose, paused, his -hand midway way between the two.</p> - -<p>“Is she the widow of Andrew Flemington, who was in France with King James?”</p> - -<p>“The same,” replied Mrs. Cockburn, tossing her head.</p> - -<p>She had small sympathy with the Stuarts.</p> - -<p>“I had not expected to see the lady here. Not that I know aught about her views. We -have a bare acquaintance, and she is like yourself, Lord Balnillo—just arrived in -Edinburgh when our young hero has left Holyrood.”</p> - -<p>“She has been a fine woman,” said Lord Grange, his eye kindling.</p> - -<p>“You may use the present tense, my lord,” said Mrs. Cockburn.</p> - -<p>“Aha!” sniggered Grange, who adhered to the time-honoured beliefs of his sex, “you dare -to show yourself generous!”</p> - -<p>“I dare to show myself what I am, and that is more than all the world can do,” said -she, looking at him very hard.</p> - -<p>He shifted from foot to foot. At this moment the gallows, to which he had condemned a -few people in his time, struck him as a personal inconvenience.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ma’am,” said he, swallowing his rage, “you must present Davie, or he will lose what -senses he has.”</p> - -<p>“Come, then, my lord, I will befriend you,” said she, glad of the chance to be rid of -Grange.</p> - -<p>Balnillo followed her, unable to escape had he wished to do so.</p> - -<p>Christian was a woman who stood very still. She turned her head without turning her -body as Mrs. Cockburn approached with her request, and Balnillo saw her calm -acquiescence.</p> - -<p>His breath had been almost taken away as he learned the identity of the stranger. Here -was the woman who knew everything about that astounding young man, his late guest, whose -alarming illness had recalled him, who had lived at St. Germain with the exiled queen, yet -who was the grandmother of a most audacious Whig spy! There was no trace of recent -ill-health here. He had pictured some faint, feeble shred of old womanhood, not the -commanding creature whose grey eyes were considering him as he advanced under cover of her -leisurely consent. She seemed to measure him carelessly as he stood before her. He was -torn asunder in mind, awestruck, dragged this way by his surprised admiration, that way by -his intense desire to wring from her something about Flemington. Here was a chance, -indeed! But Balnillo felt his courage drown in the rising fear of being unable to profit -by that chance. Admiring bewilderment overcame every other feeling. He no longer <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-237">[Pg 237]</a></span>regretted the price he -had paid for the lace on his cravat.</p> - -<p>His name had roused Madam Flemington, though she gave no sign of the thrill that went -through her as it fell from Mrs. Cockburn’s lips. As David stood before her in the correct -yet sober foppery of his primrose and mouse-colour, she regretted that she was quite -ignorant of the pretext on which Archie had left his picture unfinished, nor upon what -terms he had parted with the judge. She had no reason for supposing Balnillo to be aware -of the young man’s real character. He had been fighting with James Logie, according to -Skirling Wattie, yet there seemed to be no enmity in the business, for here was his -brother, Lord Balnillo, assiduous in getting himself presented to her. Mrs. Cockburn had -put her request with a smiling hint at the effect she had produced on his lordship. -Christian glanced at David’s meticulous person and smiled, arrogantly civil, secretly -anxious, and remained silent, ready to follow his lead with caution.</p> - -<p>The shrewd side of Balnillo was uppermost to-night, stimulated perhaps by the sight of -society and by the exhilarating sound of its voice. He recovered his momentarily scattered -wits and determined to approach his new acquaintance with such direct and simple questions -as might seem to her to be the natural inquiries of a man interested in Flemington, and -innocent of any mystery concerning him. It was quite possible—so he reasoned—that she was -unaware of the <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-238">[Pg -238]</a></span>details of what had happened on Inchbrayock Island. Archie had fled, and -the search for him had produced no result; he was unlikely to have made for his own home -if he did not wish to be found, and he and Madam Flemington might not have met since the -affair of the <i>Venture</i>. It should be his—Balnillo’s—task to convince her of his -ignorance.</p> - -<p>His intense curiosity about Archie was almost stronger than his wrath against him. -Unlike James, whose bitterness was too deep for words, whose soul was driven before the -fury of his own feelings like a restless ghost, David still looked back with a certain -pleasant excitement to Flemington’s meteoric flash through the even atmosphere of his -daily life. He would dearly have liked to bring him to justice, but he was anxious to hear -a little more of him first.</p> - -<p>He had a curious mixture of feelings about him. There was no vainer man in Scotland -than Balnillo, and if the mental half of his vanity had suffered from the deception -practised on it, the physical half was yet preening itself in the sunny remembrance of the -portrait at home—the portrait of David Balnillo as he would fain have had the world see -him—the portrait, alas and alas! unfinished. He could not feel quite as James felt, who -had opened his purse, and, more—far more than that—had laid open the most sacred page of -his life before Flemington. He had placed his personal safety in his hands, too, though he -counted that as a matter of less moment.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Madam,” said Balnillo, “to see you is to rejoice that you have recovered from your -serious illness.”</p> - -<p>“You are very obliging, my lord. I am quite well,” replied Christian, concealing a -slight surprise at this remark.</p> - -<p>“I am most happy in being presented to you,” he continued. “What news have you of my -charming friend Mr. Flemington, may I ask?”</p> - -<p>“When I heard your name, my lord, I determined to be acquainted with you, if only to -thank you for your kindness to my boy. He could not say enough of yourself and your -brother. I hope Captain Logie is well. Is he with you this evening?”</p> - -<p>The mention of James acted on David as he had designed that the mention of Archie -should act on Madam Flemington. These two people who were playing at innocence were using -the names of their relations to scare the enemy as savage tribes use the terrific faces -painted on their shields. Balnillo, in beginning the attack, had forgotten his own weak -point, and he remembered that he could give no satisfactory account of his brother at the -present moment. But his cunning was always at hand.</p> - -<p>“I had half expected to see him here,” said he, peering round the room; “there was some -talk of his coming. I arrived somewhat late, and I have hardly spoken to anyone but my -Lord Grange and Mrs. Cockburn. The sight of yourself, ma’am, put other matters out of my -head.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Ah, sir,” exclaimed Christian, “I fear that your ardour was all on behalf of Archie! -But I am accustomed to that.”</p> - -<p>She cast a look of indolent raillery at him, drawing back her head and veiling her -eyes, fiery and seductive still, with the momentary sweep of their thick lashes.</p> - -<p>Balnillo threw out his chest like a pouter pigeon. He had not been so happy for a long -time. As he did so, she remembered Archie’s account of his silk legs, and his description -of him as being “silly, virtuous, and cunning all at once.” Silly she could well believe -him to be; virtuous he might be; whether he was cunning or not, time would show her. She -did not mean to let him go until she had at least attempted to hear more about James -Logie.</p> - -<p>“Madam,” said he, “since seeing you I have forgotten Mr. Flemington. Can I say -more?”</p> - -<p>So far she was completely puzzled as to how much he knew about Archie, but it was -beginning to enter her mind that her own illness, of which she had just learned from him, -had been the young man’s pretext for leaving his work when it was only begun. Why else had -the judge mentioned it? And who but Flemington could have put the idea into his head?</p> - -<p>She determined to make a bold attack on possibilities.</p> - -<p>“Archie was distracted by my illness, poor boy, and I fear that your lordship’s -portrait suffered. But you will understand his anxiety <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-241">[Pg 241]</a></span>when I tell you that I am the only living -relation that he has, and that his devotion to me——”</p> - -<p>“He needs no excuse!” cried David fervently.</p> - -<p>She laid her hand upon his arm.</p> - -<p>“I am still hardly myself,” she said. “I cannot stand long. Fetch me a chair, my -lord.”</p> - -<p>He skipped across the floor and laid hold upon one just in time, for a gentleman was on -the point of claiming it. He carried it back with the air of a conqueror.</p> - -<p>“Apart—by the curtain, if you please,” said Christian, waving her hand. “We can speak -more comfortably on the fringe of this rout of chattering people.”</p> - -<p>He set the chair down in a quiet place by the wall, and she settled herself upon it, -leaning back, her shoulder turned from the company. Balnillo’s delight deepened.</p> - -<p>“And the portrait, my lord. He did not tell me what arrangement had been made for -finishing it,” said Christian, looking up at him as he stood beside her.</p> - -<p>She seemed to be completely unconcerned, and she spoke with a leisurely dignity and -ease that turned his ideas upside down. He could make nothing of it. She appeared to court -the subject of Archie and the picture. He could only guess her to be innocent, and his -warm admiration helped his belief. At no moment since he knew the truth from his brother’s -lips had Archie’s character seemed so black as it did now. David’s <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-242">[Pg 242]</a></span>indignation waxed as -he grew more certain that Flemington had deceived the noble woman to whom he owed so much, -even as he had deceived him. He was becoming so sure of it that he had no desire to -enlighten her. He longed to ask plainly where Archie was, but he hesitated. Even the -all-wise Mrs. Cockburn was ignorant of this lady’s political sympathies, and knew her only -as the widow of a loyal exile. What might—what would be her feelings if she were to see -her grandson in his real character?</p> - -<p>Righteous anger smouldered under Balnillo’s primrose waistcoat, and his spasmodic -shrewdness began to doze in the increasing warmth of his chivalrous pity for this new and -interesting victim of the engaging rogue.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Flemington’s concern was so great when he left my house that no arrangement was -made,” said he. “I had not the heart to trouble him with my unimportant affairs when so -much was at stake.”</p> - -<p>Of the two cautious people who were feeling their way in the dark, it was the judge who -was the more mystified, for he had laid hold of a definite idea, and it was the wrong one. -Christian was merely putting a bold face on a hazardous matter, and hoping to hear -something of Logie. She had not sought the introduction. David would have been the butt of -her amused scorn had she been free enough from anxiety to be entertained. But she could -not imagine on what footing matters really stood, and she was becoming <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-243">[Pg 243]</a></span>inclined to suspect -the beggar’s statement that Flemington had been fighting with James. Her longing to see -Archie was great.</p> - -<p>She loved him in her own way, though she had driven him from her in her mortification -and her furious pride. She had not believed that he would really go there and then; that -he, who had served her purposes so gallantly all his life, would take her at her word. -What was he doing? Why had he gone to Edinburgh? Her own reason for coming had been the -hope of seeing him. She had been four days in the town now, and she dared not make open -inquiries for him, not knowing how far his defection had gone. She had accused him of -turning to the Stuarts, and he had denied the accusation, not angrily, but with quiet -firmness. Two horrible possibilities had occurred to her: one, that he was with the -Prince, and might be already known to the Government as a rebel; the other, that he had -never reached Edinburgh—that his hurt had been worse than the beggar supposed, and that he -might be ill or dying, perhaps dead. But it was only when she lay awake at night that she -imagined these things. In saner moments and by daylight she put them from her. She was so -well accustomed to being parted from him, and to the knowledge that he was on risky -business, that she would not allow herself to be really disturbed. She assured herself -that she must wait and watch; and now she was glad to find herself acquainted with -Balnillo, who seemed to be the <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-244">[Pg -244]</a></span>only clue in her hand. Mercifully, he had all the appearance of being an -old fool.</p> - -<p>“I see that you are too modest to tell me anything of the picture,” she began. “I hope -it promised well. You should make a fine portrait, and I believe that Archie could do you -justice. He is at his best with high types. Describe it to me.”</p> - -<p>David espied a vacant chair, and, drawing it towards him, sat down to the subject with -the same gusto that most men bring to their dinners. He cleared his throat.</p> - -<p>“I should have wished it to be full length,” said he, “but Mr. Flemington had no -suitable canvas with him. I wore my robes, and he was good enough to say that the crimson -was appropriate and becoming to me. Personally, I favour quiet colours, as you see, -ma’am.”</p> - -<p>“I see that you have excellent taste.”</p> - -<p>He bowed, delighted.</p> - -<p>“I remarked you as you came in,” continued she, “and I asked myself why these gentlemen -looked so garish. Observe that one beside the door of the card-room, my lord. I am sure -that he chose his finery with some care, yet he reminds me of a clown at a -merrymaking.”</p> - -<p>“True, true—excellently true!”</p> - -<p>“In my youth it was the man of the world who set the fashions; now it is the tailor and -the young sir fresh from his studies. What should these persons know of the subject?”</p> - -<p>Balnillo was in heaven; from force of habit he <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-245">[Pg 245]</a></span>ran his hand down the leg crossed upon his knee. The -familiar inward curve of the slim silk ankle between his fingers was like the touch of a -tried and creditable friend; it might almost be said that he turned to it for sympathy. He -would have liked to tell his ankle that to-night he had found a perfection almost as great -as its own.</p> - -<p>Lord Grange, who had taken leave of his hostess and was departing, paused to look at -him.</p> - -<p>“See,” said he, taking an acquaintance by the elbow, “look yonder at that doited Davie -Balnillo.”</p> - -<p>“He is telling her about his riding of the circuit,” said the other, grinning.</p> - -<p>“The circuit never made him smile like that,” replied Grange sardonically.</p> - -<p>An hour later Christian Flemington stood at the top of the circular staircase. Below -it, Balnillo was at the entrance-door, sending everyone within reach of his voice in -search of her sedan chair. When it was discovered, he escorted her down and handed her -into it, then, according to the custom of the time, he prepared to attend its progress to -her lodgings in Hyndford’s Close. The streets were even dirtier and damper than before, -but he was as anxious to walk from Lady Anne’s party as he had been determined to be -carried to it. He stepped along at the side of the chair, turning, when they passed a -light, to see the dignified silhouette of Madam Flemington’s head as it appeared in shadow -against the farther window.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> - -<p>Speech was impossible as they went, for avoidance of the kennel and the worse obstacles -that strewed the city at that hour, before the scavengers had gone their rounds, kept -David busy. The only profit that a man got by seeing his admired one home in Edinburgh in -1745 was the honour and glory of it.</p> - -<p>When she emerged from the chair in Hyndford’s Close he insisted upon mounting the -staircase with her, though its narrowness compelled them to go in single file; and when -they stopped halfway up at the door in the towering ‘land,’ he bade her good-night and -descended again, consoled for the parting by her permission that he should wait upon her -on the following day.</p> - -<p>Christian was admitted and sailed into her little room. A light was in it and Archie -was standing at the foot of the bed.</p> - -<p>Surprises had been rolling up round Madam Flemington all the evening; surprise at -meeting Balnillo, surprise at his attitude; and this crowning surprise of all. She was -bewildered, but the blessing of unexpected relief fell on her. She went towards him, her -hands outstretched, and Flemington, who was looking at her with a wistfulness she had -never seen in him before, took them and held them fast.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Archie!” she exclaimed.</p> - -<p>She could say no more.</p> - -<p>They sat down at the wide hearth together, the shadow of the great carved bed sprawling -over the crowded space between the walls and over <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-247">[Pg 247]</a></span>Christian’s swelling silks. Then he told her the history -of the time since they parted in Ardguys garden; of his boarding of the <i>Venture</i>; of -the fight with the rebels at Inchbrayock; of his meeting with Wattie; of how he had -reached Aberbrothock half dead, and had lain sick for two days in an obscure tavern by the -shore; how he had finally sailed for Leith and had reached Edinburgh.</p> - -<p>Christian heard him, her gaze fixed upon the fire. She had elicited nothing about James -Logie from Balnillo, and there was no word of him in Archie’s story. She longed to speak -of him, but would not; she longed to know if the beggar had told the truth in saying that -the two men had actually fought, but she asked nothing, for she knew that her wisest part -was to accept the essentials, considering them as the whole. She would ask no -questions.</p> - -<p>Archie had come back. She had forbidden Ardguys to him and he had evaded her ban by -coming here. Yet he came, having proved himself loyal, and she would ignore the rest.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter319"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p> - -<h3 id="Chapter300_hdg"><a href="#Chapter300_toc">BOOK III</a></h3> - -<div class="pagebreak"></div> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter319_hdg"><a href="#Chapter319_toc">CHAPTER XIX<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE WINTER</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">A<small>PRIL</small> is slow in Scotland, distrustful of her own -identity, timid of her own powers. Half dazed from the long winter sleep, she is often -bewildered, and cannot remember whether she belongs to winter or to spring.</p> - -<p>After the struggles and perplexities of the months that had elapsed since Balnillo and -Christian Flemington met in Edinburgh, she had come slowly to herself amid storms of -sleet. Beyond the Grampians, in the North, her awakened eyes looked on a country whose -heart had been broken at Culloden. The ragged company that gathered round its Prince on -that Wednesday morning was dispersed among the fastnesses of the hills, or lying dead and -dying among the rushes and heather, whilst Cumberland’s soldiers finished their bloody -business; the April snow that had blown in the faces of the clansmen as they hurled their -unavailing valour on the Whig army had melted upon mounds of slain, and in the struggle of -an hour the hopes of half a century had perished. Superior numbers, superior artillery, -and superior generalship, had <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-252">[Pg -252]</a></span>done their work; when the English dragoons had recovered themselves after -the Highland charge, they pursued almost to the gates of Inverness, returning again to the -battlefield before night should darken upon the carnage, to despatch the wounded wretches -who still breathed among their dead comrades.</p> - -<p>The country smelt of blood; reeked of it. For miles and miles round Inverness, where -the search for fugitives was hottest, burnt hovels and blackened walls made blots upon the -tardy green of spring. Women went about, white-faced and silent, trying to keep from their -eyes the self-betraying consciousness of hidden terrors; each striving to forget the -peat-stack on the moor where some hunted creature was lying, the scrub in the hollow that -sheltered some wounded body, the cranny in the hill to which she must journey painfully -after dark with the crusts in her apron.</p> - -<p>The shot still rattled out over the countryside where the search was going on, and -where, when it had been successful, a few maimed and haggard men stood along some shieling -wall in front of a platoon of Cumberland’s musketry. All down the shores of Loch Ness and -among the hills above the Nairn water south-west of Culloden, the dark rocks raised their -broken heads to the sky over God knows what agonies of suffering and hunger. The -carrion-crow was busy in the land. One-fifth of Prince Charles’s army was dead upon the -battle-field, and the church and tolbooth of Inverness were full of wounded <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-253">[Pg 253]</a></span>prisoners, to whom -none—not even the surgeons of their own party—were suffered to attend.</p> - -<p>And so April passed, and May was near her passing. Cumberland lay at Fort Augustus, to -which place he had retired with Kingston’s Horse and eleven battalions of foot. The -victorious army was the richer by much spoil, and money was free; the Duke’s camp was -merry with festivities and races, and in the midst of it he enjoyed a well-earned leisure, -enlivened by women and dice. He had performed his task of stamping out the danger that -threatened his family with admirable thoroughness, and he had, besides, the comfortable -prospect of a glorious return to London, where he would be the hero of the general -rejoicing that was to follow. He was rooted at Fort Augustus, a rock of success and -convivial self-satisfaction in the flood of tears and anguish and broken aspiration that -had drowned half Scotland.</p> - -<p>The Prince had begun his wanderings in the West, hiding among the hills and corries of -the islands, followed by a few faithful souls, and with a price of thirty thousand pounds -on his head, whilst Cumberland’s emissaries, chief among whom was John Campbell of Mamore, -Commandant of the West Highland garrisons, searched the country in every direction. The -rank and file of his army—such of his men as were not dead or in prison—were scattered to -the four winds; and those officers who had escaped after Culloden were in hiding, too, -some despairing, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-254">[Pg -254]</a></span>some holding yet to the forlorn hope of raising his standard anew when the -evil day should be over. Among these last was James Logie.</p> - -<p>He had come unhurt through the battle. Complete indifference about personal issues had -wrapped him round in a protecting atmosphere, as it seems to enwrap and protect the -unconcerned among men. He had left the field in company with the Prince and a few friends, -with whom he reached the Ford of Falie on the Nairn River. They had held a rapid council -at this place, Prince Charles desiring that the remnant of his army should rendezvous at -Ruthven, in Badenoch, whilst he made his way to France; for his hopes were living still, -and he still looked for support and supplies from the French king. He had taken leave of -his companions at the ford, and had set off with half a dozen followers for the coast.</p> - -<p>Logie turned his face towards Angus. He had been a conspicuous figure in the Prince’s -immediate circle, and he knew that he had no time to lose if he was to cross the Grampians -alive. He thirsted to get back, and to test the temper of the east coast after the news of -the reverse; like his master, he was not beaten yet. He did not know what had become of -Ferrier and the Angus men, for he had been on the Prince’s staff; but the friends had met -on the night before the battle, and it was a compact between them, that, should the day go -against them, and should either or both survive the fight, they were to make for the <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-255">[Pg 255]</a></span>neighbourhood of -Forfar, where they would be ready, in case of necessity, to begin on their task of raising -new levies for the cause.</p> - -<p>He had reached the Spey, and had gained Deeside in safety by the shores of the Avon, -crossing the Grampians near the sources of the Isla.</p> - -<p>In the long winter that had passed since he joined the Prince in the field, James had -not forgotten Flemington. His own labours in Angus and at the taking of the -<i>Venture</i>, completely as they had filled his mind in the autumn, had sunk back into -the limbo of insignificant things, but Archie was often in his thoughts, and some time -before the advance on Inverness he had heard with indescribable feelings that he was -intelligence officer to the Duke of Cumberland. The terrible thing to Logie was that -Archie’s treachery seemed to have poisoned the sacred places in his own past; when he -turned back to it now, it was as though the figure of the young man stood blocking his -view, looking at him with those eyes that were so like the eyes of Diane, and were yet the -eyes of a traitor.</p> - -<p>He could not bear to think of that October morning by the Basin of Montrose. Perhaps -the story that a fatal impulse had made him lay bare to his companion had been tossed -about—a subject of ridicule on Flemington’s lips, its telling but one more proof to him of -the folly of men. He could scarcely believe that Archie would treat the record of his -anguish in such a way; but then, neither could he have believed that the <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-256">[Pg 256]</a></span>sympathy in Archie’s -face, the break in his voice, the tension of his listening attitude, were only the -stock-in-trade of a practised spy. And yet this horror had been true. In spite of the -unhealed wound that he carried, in spite of the batterings of his thirty-eight years, -Logie had continued to love life, but now he had begun to tell himself that he was sick of -it.</p> - -<p>And for another very practical reason his generous impulses and his belief in -Flemington had undone him. Perhaps if the young painter had come to Balnillo announcing an -ostentatious adherence to the Stuarts, he might have hesitated before taking him at his -own value; but his apparent caution and his unwillingness to speak, and the words about -his father at St. Germain, which he had let fall with all the quiet dignity of a man too -upright to pass under false colours, had done more to put the brothers on the wrong track -than the most violent protestations. Balnillo had been careful, in spite of his confidence -in his guest; but in the sympathy of his soul James had given Flemington the means of -future access to himself. Now the tavern in the Castle Wynd at Stirling could be of use to -him no longer, and he knew that only the last extremity must find him in any of the secret -haunts known to him in the Muir of Pert.</p> - -<p>Madam Flemington had never reopened the subject of James Logie with Archie. In her -wisdom she had left well alone. Installed in her little lodging in Hyndford’s Close, with -her woman <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-257">[Pg 257]</a></span>Mysie, -she had made up her mind to remain where she was. There was much to keep her in Edinburgh, -and she could not bring herself to leave the centre of information and to bury herself -again in the old white house among the ash-trees, whilst every post and every horseman -brought word of some new turn in the country’s fortunes.</p> - -<p>News of the Highland army’s retreat to Scotland, of the Battle of Falkirk, of the -despatch of the Duke of Cumberland to the North, followed one another as the year went by, -and still she stayed on. With her emergence from the seclusion of the country came her -emergence from the seclusion she had made for herself; and on the Duke’s thirty hours’ -occupation of Holyrood, she threw off all pretence of neutrality, and repaired with other -Whig ladies to the palace to pay her respects to the stout, ill-mannered young General -whose unbeguiling person followed so awkwardly upon the attractive figure of his -predecessor.</p> - -<p>Now that Archie was restored to her, Christian found herself with plenty of occupation. -The contempt she had hitherto professed for Edinburgh society seemed to have melted away, -and every card-party, every assembly and rout, knew her chair at its door, her arresting -presence in its midst. Madam Flemington’s name was on a good many tongues that winter. -Many feared her, some maligned her, but no one overlooked her. The fact that she was the -widow of an exiled Jacobite lent her an additional interest; and as <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-258">[Pg 258]</a></span>the polite world set -itself to invent a motley choice of reasons for her adherence to the House of -Hanover—which it discovered before her reception by the Duke at Holyrood made it public—it -ended by stumbling on the old story of a bygone liaison with Prince Charles’s father. The -idea was so much to its taste that it was generally accepted; and Christian, unknown to -herself, became the cast-off and alienated mistress of that Prince whom her party had -begun to call ‘The Old Pretender.’ It was scarcely a legend that would have conciliated -her had it come to her ears, but, as rumour is seldom on speaking terms with its victims, -she was ignorant of the interested whispers which followed her through the wynds and up -the staircases of the Old Town.</p> - -<p>But the reflected halo of royalty, while it casts deep shadows, reaches far. The -character of royal light of love stood her in good stead, even among those to whom her -supposed former lover was an abhorred spectre of Popery and political danger. The path -that her own personality would surely open for her in any community was illumined and made -smooth by the baleful interest that hangs about all kingly irregularities, and there was -that in her bearing which made people think more of the royal and less of the irregular -part of the business. Also, among the Whigs, she was a brand plucked from the burning, one -who had turned from the wrong party to embrace the right. Edinburgh, Whig at <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-259">[Pg 259]</a></span>heart, in spite of its -backslidings, admired Madam Flemington.</p> - -<p>And not only Edinburgh, but that curious fraction of it, David Balnillo.</p> - -<p>The impression that Christian had made upon the judge had deepened as the weeks went -by. By the time he discovered her true principles, and realized that she was no dupe of -Archie’s, but his partisan, he had advanced so far in his acquaintance with her, had -become so much her servant, that he could not bring himself to draw back. She had dazzled -his wits and played on his vanity, and that vanity was not only warmed and cosseted by her -manner to him, not only was he delighted with herself and her notice, but he had begun to -find in his position of favoured cavalier to one of the most prominent figures in society -a distinction that it would go hard with him to miss.</p> - -<p>He had begun their conversation at Lady Anne Maxwell’s party by the mention of Archie -Flemington, but his name had not come up between them again, and when his enlightenment -about her was complete, and the talk which he heard in every house that he frequented -revealed her in her real colours, he had no further wish to discuss the man into whose -trap he had fallen.</p> - -<p>David Balnillo’s discoveries were extremely unpalatable to him. If Christian had -cherished his vanity, she had made it smart, too. No man, least of all one like the -self-appreciative judge, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-260">[Pg -260]</a></span>can find without resentment that he has been, even indirectly, the dupe of -a person to whom he has attached himself; but when that person is a woman, determined not -to let him escape from her influence, the case is not always desperate. For three -unblessed days it was wellnigh desperate with Balnillo, and he avoided her completely, but -at the end of that time a summons from her was brought to him that his inclination for her -company and the chance sight of Lord Grange holding open the door of her chair forbade him -to disobey. She had worded her command as though she were conferring a favour; -nevertheless, after an hour’s hesitation, David had taken his hat and repaired to -Hyndford’s Close, dragging his dignity after him like a dog on a leash.</p> - -<p>If she guessed the reason of his absence from her side she made no remark, receiving -him as if she had just parted from him, with that omission of greeting which implies so -much. She had sent for him, she said, because her man of business had given her a legal -paper that she would not sign without his advice. She looked him in the face as fearlessly -as ever, and her glance sparkled with its wonted fire. For some tormented minutes he could -not decide whether or no to charge her with knowledge of the fraud that had been carried -on under his roof, but he had not the courage to do so. Also, he was acute enough to see -that she might well reply to his reproaches by reminding him that he had only himself to -thank for their <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-261">[Pg -261]</a></span>acquaintance. She had not made the advances; his own zeal had brought about -their situation. He felt like a fool, but he saw that in speaking he might look like one, -which some consider worse.</p> - -<p>He left her, assuring himself that all was fair in love and politics; that he could -not, in common good breeding, withhold his help from her in her legal difficulty; that, -should wind of Archie’s dealings with him get abroad in the town, he would be saving -appearances in avoiding a rupture with the lady whose shadow he had been since he arrived -in Edinburgh, and that it was his duty as a well-wisher of Prince Charles to keep open any -channel that might yield information about Flemington’s movements. Whatsoever may have -been the quality of his reasons, their quantity was remarkable. He did not like the little -voice that whispered to him that he would not have dared to offer them to James.</p> - -<p>There was no further risk of a meeting with Archie, for within a few days of the -latter’s appearance in Hyndford’s Close he had been sent to the Border with instructions -to watch Jedburgh and the neighbourhood of Liddesdale, through which the Prince’s army had -passed on its march to England. Madam Flemington knew that the coast was clear, and David -had no suspicion that it had been otherwise. Very few people in Edinburgh were aware of -Flemington’s visit to it; it was an event of which even the caddies were ignorant.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> - -<p>And so Balnillo lingered on, putting off his return to Angus from week to week. His -mouse-coloured velvet began to show signs of wear and was replaced by a suit of dark -purple; his funds were dwindling a little, for he was not a rich man, and a new set of -verses about him was going the round of the town. Then, with January, came the battle of -Falkirk and the siege of Stirling Castle, and the end of the month brought Cumberland and -the mustering of loyal Whigs to wait upon him at Holyrood Palace.</p> - -<p>David departed quietly. He had come to Edinburgh to avoid playing a marked part in -Angus, and he now returned to Angus to avoid playing a marked part in Edinburgh. He was -behaving like the last remaining king in a game of draughts when he skips from square to -square in the safe corner of the board; but he did not know that Government had kept its -eye on all his doings during the time of his stay. Perhaps it was on account of her -usefulness in this and in other delicate matters that Madam Flemington augured well for -her grandson, for when the Whig army crossed the Forth, Archie went with it as -intelligence officer to the Duke of Cumberland.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter320"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter320_hdg"><a href="#Chapter320_toc">CHAPTER XX<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE PARTING OF THE WAYS</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">J<small>ULY</small> spread a mantle of heather over the Grampians. In -Glen Esk, the rough road into the Lowlands, little better than a sheep-track, ran down the -shore of Loch Lee, to come out at last into the large spaces at the foot of the hills. The -greyness of the summer haze lay over everything, and the short grass and the roots of -bog-myrtle and thyme smelt warm and heady, for the wind was still. The sun seemed to have -sucked up some of the heather-colour out of the earth; the lower atmosphere was suffused -with a dusty lilac where, high overhead, it softened the contours of the scattered rocks. -Amongst carpets of rush and deep moss, dappled with wet patches, the ruddy stems of the -bog-asphodel raised slim, golden heads that drooped a little, as though for faintness, in -the scented warmth. An occasional bumble-bee passed down wind, purposeful and -ostentatious, like a respectable citizen zealous on the business of life.</p> - -<p>No one looking along the windings of the Glen, and drawing in the ardent quietness of -the summer <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-264">[Pg -264]</a></span>warmth, would have supposed that fire and sword had been through it so -lately. Its vastness of outline hid the ruined huts and black fragments of skeleton -gable-ends that had smoked up into the mountain stillness. Homeless women and children had -fled down its secret tracks; hunted men had given up their souls under its heights. The -rich plainland of Angus had sent its sons to fight for the Prince in the North, and of -those who survived to make their way back to their homes, many had been overtaken by the -pursuit that had swept down behind them through the hills. No place had a darker record -than Glen Esk.</p> - -<p>Archie Flemington rode down the Glen with his companion some little way in front of the -corporal and the three men who followed them. His left arm was in a sling, for he had -received a sabre-cut at Culloden; also, he had been rolled on by his horse, which was -killed under him, and had broken a rib. His wound, though not serious had taken a long -time to heal, for the steel had cut into the arm bone; he looked thin, too, for the winter -had been a time of strenuous work.</p> - -<p>One of the three private soldiers, the last of the small string of horsemen, had a rope -knotted into his reins, the other end of which was secured round the middle of a short, -thickset man who paced sullenly along beside the horse. The prisoner’s arms were bound at -his back, his reddish beard was unkempt, and his clothes ragged; he made a sorry figure in -the surrounding beauty.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> - -<p>Nearly two months had gone by since the Battle of Culloden, and the search for -fugitives was still going on in remote places. Cumberland, who was on the point of leaving -Fort Augustus for Edinburgh on his way to London, had given orders for a last scouring of -Glen Esk. The party had almost reached its mouth, and its efforts had resulted only in the -capture of this one rebel; but, as there was some slight doubt of his identity, and as the -officer who rode beside Archie was one whose conscience ranked a great way above his -convenience, the red-bearded man had fared better than many of those taken by Cumberland’s -man-hunters. If he were the person they supposed him to be, he was an Angus farmer -distantly related to David Ferrier, and he was now being brought to his own country for -identification.</p> - -<p>Captain Callandar, the officer in command, was a long, lean, bony man with a dark face, -a silent, hard-bitten fellow from Ligonier’s regiment. He and Archie had met very little -before they started south together, and they had scarcely progressed in acquaintance in -the few days during which they had ridden side by side. They had shared their food on the -bare turf by day, lain down within a few yards of each other at night; they had gone -through many of the same experiences in the North, and they belonged to the same -victorious army, yet they knew little more of each other than when they started. But there -was no dislike between them, certainly none on <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-266">[Pg 266]</a></span>Archie’s side, and if the other was a little critical of -the foreign roll of his companion’s <i>r</i>’<i>s</i>, he did not show it.</p> - -<p>Archie’s tongue had been quiet enough. He was riding listlessly along, and, though he -looked from side to side, taking in the details of what he saw from force of habit, they -seemed to give him no interest. He puzzled Callandar a good deal, for he had proved to be -totally different from anything that he had expected. The soldier was apt to study his -fellow-men, when not entirely swallowed up by his duty, and he had been rather pleased -when he found that Cumberland’s brilliant intelligence officer was to accompany him down -Glen Esk. He had heard much about him. Archie’s quick answers and racy talk had amused the -Duke, who, uncompanionable himself, felt the awkward man’s amazement at the readiness of -others, and scraps of Flemington’s sayings had gone from lip to lip, hall-marked by his -approval. Callandar was taciturn and grave, but he was not stupid, and he had begun to -wonder what was amiss with his companion. He decided that his own society must be -uncongenial to him, and, being a very modest man, he did not marvel at it.</p> - -<p>But the sources of Archie’s discomfort lay far, far deeper than any passing irritation. -It seemed to him now, as he reached the mouth of the Glen, that there was nothing left in -life to fear, because the worst that could come upon him was looming ahead, waiting for -him, counting his horse’s steps as he left the hills behind.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> - -<p>An apprehension, a mere suggestion of what might be remotely possible, a skeleton that -had shown its face to him in sleepless or overwrought moments since Cumberland’s victory, -had become real. To most people who are haunted by a particular dread, Fate plays one of -the tricks she loves so much. She is an expert boxer, and whilst each man stands up to her -in his long, defensive fight, his eye upon hers, guarding himself from the blow he expects -to receive in the face, she hits him in the wind and he finds himself knocked out.</p> - -<p>But she had dealt otherwise with Archie; for a week ago he had been specially detailed -to proceed to Angus to hunt for that important rebel, Captain James Logie, who was -believed to have made his way southward to his native parts.</p> - -<p>At Fort Augustus it was felt that Flemington was exactly the right man to be entrusted -with the business. He was familiar with the country he had to search, he was a man of -infinite resource and infinite intelligence; and Cumberland meant to be pleasant in his -harsh, ungraceful manner, when he gave him his commission in person, with a hint that he -expected more from Mr. Flemington than he did from anybody else. He was to accompany -Captain Callandar and his three men. The officer, having made a last sweep of Glen Esk, -was to go on by Brechin to Forfar, where he would be joined by another and larger party of -troops that was on its way down Glen Clova from Braemar, for Cumberland was drafting small -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-268">[Pg 268]</a></span>forces into -Angus by way of the Grampians, and the country was filling with them.</p> - -<p>He had dealt drastically with Montrose. The rebellion in the town had been suppressed, -and the neighbourhood put under military law. This bit of the east coast had played a part -that was not forgotten by the little German general, and he was determined that the -hornet’s nest he had smoked out should not re-collect. Whilst James Logie was at large -there could be no security.</p> - -<p>Of all the rebels in Scotland, Logie was the man whom Cumberland was most desirous to -get. The great nobles who had taken part in the rising were large quarry indeed, but this -commoner who had worked so quietly in the eastern end of Angus, who had been on the -Prince’s staff, who had the experience of many campaigns at his back, whose ally was the -notorious Ferrier, who had seized the harbour of Montrose under the very guns of a -Government sloop of war, was as dangerous as any Highland chieftain, and the news that he -had been allowed to get back to his own haunts made the Whig generals curse. Though he -might be quiet for the moment, he would be ready to stir up the same mischief on the first -recrudescence of Stuart energy. It was not known what had happened to Ferrier, for -although he was a marked man and would be a rich haul for anybody who could deliver him up -to Cumberland, he was considered a less important influence than James; and Government had -scarcely estimated his valuable services to <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-269">[Pg 269]</a></span>the Jacobites, which were every whit as great as those of -his friend.</p> - -<p>Lord Balnillo was a puzzle to the intelligence department. His name had gone in to -headquarters as that of a strongly suspected rebel; he was James’s brother; yet, while -Archie had included him in the report he had entrusted to the beggar, he had been able to -say little that was definite about him. The very definite information he had given about -James and Ferrier, the details of his pursuit of the two men and his warning of the attack -on the <i>Venture</i>, had mattered more to the authorities than the politics of the -peaceable old judge, and Balnillo’s subsequent conduct had been so little in accordance -with that of his brother that he was felt to be a source of small danger. He had been no -great power on the bench, where his character was so easy that prisoners were known to -think themselves lucky in appearing before him. No one could quite account for his success -in the law, and the mention of his name in the legal circles of Edinburgh raised nothing -worse than a smile. He had taken no part in the rejoicing that followed James’s feat at -Montrose, but had taken the opportunity of leaving the neighbourhood, and during his long -stay in Edinburgh he had frequented Whig houses and had been the satellite of a -conspicuous Whig lady, one who had been received by Cumberland with some distinction, the -grandmother of the man who had denounced Logie. The authorities decided to leave him -alone.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> - -<p>When the hills were behind the riders and the levels of the country had sunk and -widened out on either hand, they crossed the North Esk, which made a shallow curve by the -village of Edzell. The bank rose on its western side, and the shade of the trees was -delightful to the travellers, and particularly to the prisoner they carried with them. As -the horses snuffed at the water they could hardly be urged through it, and Callandar and -Archie dismounted on the farther shore and sat on a boulder whilst they drank. They -watched them as they drew the draught up their long throats and raised their heads when -satisfied, to stare, with dripping muzzles, at distant nothings, after the fashion of -their kind. The prisoner’s aching arms were unbound that he might drink too.</p> - -<p>“Egad, I have pitied that poor devil these last miles,” said Archie, as the man knelt -at the brink and extended his stiffened arms into a pool.</p> - -<p>The other nodded. Theoretically he pitied him, but a rebel was a rebel.</p> - -<p>“You have no bowels of compassion. They are not in your instructions, Callandar. They -should be served out, like ammunition.”</p> - -<p>Callandar turned his grave eyes on him.</p> - -<p>“The idea displeases you?” said Archie.</p> - -<p>“It would complicate our duty.”</p> - -<p>He spoke like a humourless man, but one side of his mouth twitched downwards a little, -and Flemington, who had the eye of a lynx for another man’s face, decided that the mere -accident of habit <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-271">[Pg -271]</a></span>had prevented it from twitching up. He struck him as the most repressed -person he had ever seen.</p> - -<p>“There would not be enough at headquarters to go round,” observed Archie.</p> - -<p>Callandar’s mouth straightened, and, like the horses, he looked at nothing. Criticism -was another thing not in his instructions.</p> - -<p>“They have drunk well,” he said at last. “An hour will bring us to the foot of Huntly -Hill. We can halt and feed them at the top before we turn off towards Brechin. You know -this country better than I do.”</p> - -<p>“Wait a little,” said Archie. “I am no rebel, and you may have mercy on me with a clear -conscience.”</p> - -<p>He had slipped his arm out of the sling and was resting it on his knee.</p> - -<p>“You are in pain?” exclaimed Callandar, astonished.</p> - -<p>Archie laughed.</p> - -<p>“Why, man, do you think I ride for pleasure with the top half of a bone working east -and the bottom half working west?”</p> - -<p>“I thought——” began Callandar.</p> - -<p>“You thought me churlish company, and maybe I have been so. But this ride has been no -holiday for me.”</p> - -<p>“I did not mean that. I would have said that I thought your wound was mended.”</p> - -<p>“My flesh-wound is mended and so is my rib,” said Flemington, “but there are two -handsome <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-272">[Pg -272]</a></span>splinters hobnobbing above my elbow, and I can tell you that they dance to -the tune of my horse’s jog.”</p> - -<p>Callandar’s opinion of him rose. He had found him disappointing as a companion, but -Archie had hid his pain, and he understood people who did that.</p> - -<p>The Edzell villagers turned out to stare at them as they passed a short time later, -when they took the road again. After the riders left its row of houses their way ran from -the river-level through fields that had begun to oust the moor, rising to the crest of -Huntly Hill, on the farther side of which the southern part of Angus spread its partial -cultivation down to the Basin of Montrose. Archie’s discomfort seemed to grow; he shifted -his sling again and again, and Callandar could see his mouth set in a hard line. Now and -then an impatient sound of pain broke from him. They rode on, silent, the long rise of the -hill barring their road like a wall, and the stems of the fir-strip that crowned it -beginning to turn to a dusky black against the sky, which was cooling off for evening. -Flemington’s horse was a slow walker, and he had begun to jog persistently. His rider, -holding him back, had fallen behind. Callandar rode on, preoccupied, and when, roused from -his thoughts, he turned his head, Archie waved him on, shouting that he would follow more -slowly, for the troopers moved at a foot’s pace because of their prisoner, and he stayed -abreast of them.</p> - -<p>As Callandar passed a green sea of invading <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-273">[Pg 273]</a></span>bracken that had struggled on to the road his jaw dropped -and he pulled up. Behind the feathering waves an individual was sitting in a wooden box on -wheels, and four dogs, harnessed to the rude vehicle, were lying on the ground in their -leathern traces. He noticed with astonishment that the man had lost the lower parts of his -legs.</p> - -<p>“You’ll be Captain Callandar,” said Wattie, his twinkling eyes on the other’s uniform; -“you’re terrible late.”</p> - -<p>“What do you want?” said the officer, amazed.</p> - -<p>The beggar peered through the fern and saw the knot of riders and their prisoner coming -along the road some little way behind.</p> - -<p>“Whaur’s yon lad Flemington?” he demanded.</p> - -<p>“What do you want?” exclaimed Callandar again. “If you are a beggar you have chosen a -strange place to beg in.”</p> - -<p>For answer Wattie pulled up his sliding panel and took out two sealed letters, holding -them low in the shelter of the fern, as if the midges, dancing their evening dance above -the bracken-tops, should not look upon them. Callandar saw that one of the letters bore -his own name.</p> - -<p>“Whisht,” said the beggar, thrusting them back quickly, “come doon here an’ hae a crack -wi’ me.”</p> - -<p>As Callandar had been concerned exclusively with troops and fighting, he knew little -about the channels of information working in the country, and it took him a moment to -explain the situation to himself. He dismounted under the fixed glare <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-274">[Pg 274]</a></span>of the yellow dog. He -was a man to whom small obstacles were invisible when he had a purpose, and he almost trod -on the animal, without noticing the suppressed hostility gathering about his heels. But, -so long as his master’s voice was friendly, the cur was still, for his unwavering mind -answered to its every tone. Probably no spot in all Angus contained two such steadfast -living creatures as did this green place by the bracken when Callandar and the yellow dog -stood side by side.</p> - -<p>The soldier tethered his horse and sat down on the moss. Wattie laid the letters before -him; the second was addressed to Archie. Callandar broke the seal of the first and read it -slowly through; then he sat silent, examining the signature, which was the same that -Flemington had showed to the beggar on the day when he met him for the first time, months -ago, by the mill of Balnillo.</p> - -<p>He was directed to advance no farther towards Brechin, but to keep himself out of sight -among the woods round Huntly Hill, and to watch the Muir of Pert, for it was known that -the rebel, James Logie, was concealed somewhere between Brechin and the river. He was not -upon the Balnillo estate, which, with Balnillo House, had been searched from end to end, -but he was believed to be in the neighbourhood of the Muir.</p> - -<p>“You know the contents of this?” asked Callandar, as he put away the paper inside the -breast of his coat.</p> - -<p>“Dod, a ken it’ll be aboot Logie. He’s a fell <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-275">[Pg 275]</a></span>man, yon. Have ye na got Flemington wi’ ye?”</p> - -<p>Callandar looked upon his companion with disapproval. He had never seen him, never -heard of him before, and he felt his manner and his way of speaking of his superiors to be -an outrage upon discipline and order, which were two things very near his heart.</p> - -<p>He did not reply.</p> - -<p>“Whaur’s Flemington?” demanded the beggar again.</p> - -<p>“You make very free with Mr. Flemington’s name.”</p> - -<p>“Tuts!” exclaimed Wattie, ignoring the rebuke, “a’ve got ma orders the same as yersel’, -an’ a’m to gie yon thing to him an’ to nae ither body. Foo will a dae that if a dinna ken -whaur he is?”</p> - -<p>His argument was indisputable.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Flemington will be with me in a moment,” said Callandar stiffly. “He is -following.”</p> - -<p>The sound of horses’ feet was nearing them upon the road, and Callandar rose and -beckoned to Archie to come on.</p> - -<p>“Go to the top of the hill and halt until I join you,” he told the corporal as the men -passed.</p> - -<p>As Archie dismounted and saw who was behind the bracken, he recoiled. It was to him as -if all that he most loathed in the past came to meet him in the beggar’s face. Here, at -the confines of the Lowland country, the same hateful influences were waiting to engulf -him. His soul was weary within him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> - -<p>He barely replied to Wattie’s familiar greeting.</p> - -<p>“Do you know this person?” inquired Callandar.</p> - -<p>He assented.</p> - -<p>“Ay, does he. Him and me’s weel acquaint,” said Wattie, closing an eye. “Hae, tak’ -yon.”</p> - -<p>He held out the letter to Flemington.</p> - -<p>The young man opened it slowly, turning his back to the cart, and his brows drew -together as he read.</p> - -<p>His destiny did not mean him to escape. Logie had been marked down, and the circle of -his enemies was narrowing round him. Flemington was to go no farther, and he was to remain -with Callandar to await another message that would be brought to their bivouac on Huntly -Hill, before approaching nearer to Brechin.</p> - -<p>He stood aside, the paper in his hand. Here was the turning-point; he was face to face -with it at last. He could not take part in Logie’s capture; on that he was completely, -unalterably determined. What would be the end of it all for himself he could not think. -Nothing was clear, nothing plain, but the settled strength of his determination. He looked -into the mellowing light round him, and saw everything as though it were unreal; the only -reality was that he had chosen his way. Heaven was pitiless, but it should not shake him. -Far above him a solitary bird was winging its way into the spaces beyond the hills; the -measured beat of its wings growing invisible as it grew smaller and smaller and was -finally lost to sight. He watched it, fascinated, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-277">[Pg 277]</a></span>with the strange detachment of those whose senses and -consciousness are numbed by some crisis. What was it carrying away, that tiny thing that -was being swallowed by the vastness? His mind could only grasp the idea of distance -. . . of space. . . .</p> - -<p>Callandar was at his elbow, and his voice broke on him as the voice of someone -awakening him from sleep.</p> - -<p>“These are my orders,” he was saying, as he held out his own letter; “you know them, -for I am informed here that they are the duplicate of yours.”</p> - -<p>There was no escape. Callandar knew the exact contents of both papers. Archie might -have kept his own orders to himself, and have given him to suppose that he was summoned to -Forfar or Perth, and must leave him; but that was impossible. He must either join in -hunting Logie, or leave the party on this side of Huntly Hill.</p> - -<p>“We had better get on,” said Callandar.</p> - -<p>They mounted, and as they did so, Wattie also got under way. His team was now reduced -to four, for the terrier which had formerly run alone in the lead had died about the new -year.</p> - -<p>He took up his switch, and the yellow cur and his companions whirled him with a mighty -tug on to the road. He had been waiting for some time in the bracken for the expected -horseman, and as the dogs had enjoyed a long rest, they followed the horses at a steady -trot. Callandar and Flemington trotted too, and the cart soon fell <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-278">[Pg 278]</a></span>behind. Beyond the -crest of Huntly Hill the Muir of Pert sloped eastwards towards the coast, its edges -resting upon the Esk, but before the road began to ascend it forked in two, one part -running upwards, and the other breaking away west towards Brechin.</p> - -<p>“Callandar, I am going to leave you,” said Archie, pulling up his horse.</p> - -<p>“To leave?” exclaimed the other blankly. “In God’s name, where are you going?”</p> - -<p>“Here is the shortest way to Brechin, and I shall take it. I must find a surgeon to -attend to this arm. There is no use for me to go on with you when I can hardly sit in my -saddle for pain.”</p> - -<p>“But your orders?” gasped Callandar.</p> - -<p>“I will make that right. You must go on alone. Probably I shall join you in a few days, -but that will depend on what instructions I get later. If you hear nothing from me you -will understand that I am busy out of sight. My hands may be full—that is, if the surgeon -leaves me with both of them. Good-bye, Callandar.”</p> - -<p>He turned his horse and left him. The other opened his mouth to shout after him, -ordering him to come back, but remembered that he had no authority to do so. Flemington -was independent of him; he belonged to a different branch of the King’s service, and -although he had fought at Culloden he was under different orders. He had merely -accompanied his party, and Callandar knew very well that, though his junior in years, he -was a much more important person than himself. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-279">[Pg 279]</a></span>The nature of Archie’s duties demanded that he should be -given a free hand in his movements, and no doubt he knew what he was about. But had he -been Callandar’s subordinate, and had there been a surgeon round the nearest corner, his -arm might have dropped from his shoulder before the officer would have permitted him to -fall out of the little troop. Callandar had never in all his service seen a man receive -definite orders only to disobey them openly.</p> - -<p>He watched him go, petrified. His brain was a good one, but it worked slowly, and -Archie’s decision and departure had been as sudden as a thunderbolt. Also, there was -contempt in his heart for his softness, and he was sorry.</p> - -<p>Archie turned round and saw him still looking after him. He sent back a gibe to -him.</p> - -<p>“If you don’t go on I will report you for neglect of duty!” he shouted, laughing.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter321"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter321_hdg"><a href="#Chapter321_toc">CHAPTER XXI<br /> -<span class="chap_title">HUNTLY HILL</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">C<small>ALLANDAR</small> rode up Huntly Hill. The rose-red of the -blossoming briar that decks all Angus with its rubies glowed in the failing sunlight, and -the scent of its leaf came in puffs from the wayside ditches; the blurred heads of the -meadow-sweet were being turned into clouds of gold as the sun grew lower and the road -climbed higher. In front the trees began to mantle Huntly Hill.</p> - -<p>He had just begun the ascent at a foot’s pace when he heard the whirr of the beggar’s -chariot-wheels behind him, then at his side, and he turned in his saddle and looked down -on his pursuer’s bald crown. Wattie had cast off his bonnet, and the light breeze -springing up lifted the fringe of his grizzled hair.</p> - -<p>“Whaur awa’s Flemington?” he cried, as he came up.</p> - -<p>The other answered by another question; his thoughts had come back to the red-haired -prisoner at the top of the hill, and it struck him that the man in the cart might -recognize him.</p> - -<p>“What’s your name?” he asked abruptly.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Wattie Caird.”</p> - -<p>“You belong to these parts?”</p> - -<p>He nodded.</p> - -<p>“Then come on; I have not done with you yet.”</p> - -<p>“A’m asking ye whaur’s Flemington?”</p> - -<p>If Callandar had pleased himself he would have driven Wattie down the hill at the point -of the sword, his persistence and his pestilent, unashamed curiosity were so distasteful -to him. But he had a second use for him now. He was that uncommon thing, a disciplinarian -with tact, and by virtue of the combination in himself he understood that the troopers in -front of him, who had been looking forward eagerly to getting their heads once more under -a roof that night, would be disgusted by the orders he was bringing. He had noticed the -chanter sticking out from under Wattie’s leathern bag, and he thought that a stirring tune -or two might ease matters for them. He did not see his way to dispensing with him at -present, so he tolerated his company.</p> - -<p>“Mr. Flemington has a bad wound,” he answered. “He has gone to Brechin to have it -attended to.”</p> - -<p>“Whaur did he get it?”</p> - -<p>“At Culloden Moor.”</p> - -<p>“They didna tell me onything aboot that.”</p> - -<p>“Who tells you anything about Mr. Flemington? What do you know about him?”</p> - -<p>“Heuch!” exclaimed Wattie, with contempt, “it’s mysel’ that should tell them! A ken -mair <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-282">[Pg 282]</a></span>aboot -Flemington than ony ither body—a ken fine what’s brocht yon lad here. He’s seeking Logie, -like a’body else, but he kens fine he’ll na get him—ay, does he!”</p> - -<p>Callandar looked down from his tall horse upon the grotesque figure so close to the -ground. He was furious at the creature’s assumption of knowledge.</p> - -<p>“You are a piper?” said he.</p> - -<p>“The best in Scotland.”</p> - -<p>“Then keep your breath for piping and let other people’s business be,” he said -sternly.</p> - -<p>“Man, dinna fash. It’s King Geordie’s business and syne it’s mine. Him and me’s -billies. Ay, he’s awa’, is he, Flemington?”</p> - -<p>Callandar quickened his horse’s pace; he was not going to endure this offensive talk. -But Wattie urged on his dogs too, and followed hard on his heels.</p> - -<p>All through the winter, whilst the fortunes of Scotland were deciding themselves in the -North, he had been idle but for his piping and singing, and he had had little to do with -the higher matters on which he had been engaged in the autumn, whilst the forces of the -coming storm were seething south of the Grampians. He had not set eyes on Flemington since -their parting by the farm on Rossie Moor, but many a night, lying among his dogs, he had -thought of Archie’s voice calling to Logie as he tossed and babbled in his broken -dreams.</p> - -<p>He had long since drawn his conclusion and <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-283">[Pg 283]</a></span>made up his mind that he admired Archie as a mighty -clever fellow, but he was convinced that he was more astute than anybody supposed, and it -gave him great delight to think that, probably, no one but himself had a notion of the -part Flemington was playing. Wattie was well aware of his advancement, for his name was in -everybody’s mouth. He knew that he was on Cumberland’s staff, just as Logie was on the -staff of the Prince, and he wagged his head as he thought how Archie must have enriched -himself at the expense of both Whig and Jacobite. It was his opinion that, knowledge being -marketable, it was time that somebody else should enrich himself too. He would have given -a great deal to know whether Flemington, as a well-known man, had continued his traffic -with the other side, and as he went up the hill beside the dark Whig officer he was -turning the question over in his mind.</p> - -<p>He had kept his suspicions jealously to himself. Whilst Flemington was far away in the -North, and all men’s eyes were looking across the Grampians, he knew that he could command -no attention, and he had cursed because he believed his chance of profit to be lost. -Archie had gone out of range, and he could not reach him; yet he kept his knowledge close, -like a prudent man, in case the time should come when he might use it. And now Flemington -had returned, and he had been sent out to meet him.</p> - -<p>The way had grown steep, and as Callandar’s horse began to stumble, the soldier swung -himself <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-284">[Pg 284]</a></span>off the -tired beast and walked beside him, his hand on the mane.</p> - -<p>Wattie was considering whether he should speak. If his information were believed, it -would be especially valuable at this time, when the authorities were agog to catch Logie, -and the reward for his services must be considerable if there was any justice in the -world. They would never catch Logie, because Flemington was in league with him. Wattie -knew what many knew—that the rebel was believed to be somewhere about the great Muir of -Pert, now just in front of them, but so far as he could make out, the only person who was -aware of how the wind set with Archie was himself.</p> - -<p>What he had seen at the foot of Huntly Hill had astonished him till he had read its -meaning by the light of his own suspicions. Though he had not been close enough to the two -men to hear exactly what passed between them when they parted, he had seen them part. He -had seen Callandar standing to look after the other as though uncertain how to act, and he -had heard Archie’s derisive shout. There was no sign of a quarrel between them, yet -Callandar’s face suggested they had disagreed; there was perplexity in it and underlying -disapproval. He had seen his gesture of astonishment, and the way in which he had sat -looking after Flemington at the cross roads, reining back his horse, which would have -followed its companion, was eloquent to the beggar. Callandar had not expected the young -man to go.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> - -<p>Wattie did not know the nature of the orders he had brought, but he knew that they -referred to Logie. He understood that those who received them were hastening to meet those -who had despatched them, and would be with them that night; and this proved to him how -important it was that the letters should be in the hand of the riders before they advanced -farther on their way. He had been directed to wait on the northern side of Huntly Hill, -and had been specially charged to deliver them before Callandar crossed it. He told -himself that only a fool would fail to guess that they referred to this particular place. -But the illuminating part to Wattie was the speech he had heard by the bracken: it was all -that was needed to explain the officer’s stormy looks.</p> - -<p>“These are my orders,” Callandar had said, “but you know them, for I am informed that -they are the duplicate of yours.”</p> - -<p>Archie had disobeyed them, and Wattie was sure that he had gone, because the risk of -meeting Logie was too great to be run. Now was the time for him to speak.</p> - -<p>He had no nicety, but he had shrewdness in plenty. He was sudden and persistent in his -address, and divining the obstacles in Callandar’s mind, he charged them like a bull.</p> - -<p>“Flemington ’ll na let ye get Logie,” said he.</p> - -<p>He made his announcement with so much emphasis that the man walking beside him was -impressed in spite of his prejudices. He was annoyed too. He turned on him angrily.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Once and for all, what do you mean by this infernal talk about Mr. Flemington?” he -cried, stopping short. “You will either speak out, or I will take it upon myself to make -you. I have three men in the wood up yonder who will be very willing to help me. I believe -you to be a meddlesome liar, and if I find that I am right you shall smart for it.”</p> - -<p>But the beggar needed no urging, and he was not in the least afraid of Callandar.</p> - -<p>“It’s no me that’s sweer to speak, it’s yersel’ that’s sweer to listen,” said he, with -some truth. “Dod, a’ve tell’t ye afore an’ a’m telling ye again—<i>Flemington</i> ’<i>ll -no let ye get him!</i> He’s dancin’ wi’ George, but he’s takin’ the tune frae Chairlie. -Heuch! dinna tell me! There’s mony hae done the same afore an’ ’ll dae it yet!”</p> - -<p>The officer was standing in the middle of the road, a picture of perplexity.</p> - -<p>“It’s no the oxter of him that gars him gang,” said Wattie, breaking into the broad -smile of one who is successfully letting the light of reason into another’s mind. “It’s no -his airm. Maybe it gies him a pucklie twist, whiles, and maybe it doesna, but it’s no that -that gars the like o’ him greet. <i>He wouldna come up Huntly Hill wi’ you</i>, <i>for he -ken’t he was ower near Logie.</i> It’s that, an’ nae mair!”</p> - -<p>Callandar began to think back. He had not heard one complaint from Archie since the day -they rode out of Fort Augustus together, and he remembered his own astonishment at hearing -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-287">[Pg 287]</a></span>he was in pain -from his wound. It seemed only to have become painful in the last couple of hours.</p> - -<p>“It is easy to make accusations,” he said grimly, “but you will have to prove them. -What proof have you?”</p> - -<p>“Is it pruifs ye’re needin’? Fegs, a dinna gang aboot wi’ them in ma poke! A can tell -ye ma pruifs fine, but maybe ye’ll no listen.”</p> - -<p>He made as though to drive on.</p> - -<p>Callandar stepped in front of the dogs, and stood in his path.</p> - -<p>“You will speak out before I take another step,” said he. “I will have no shuffling. -Come, out with what you know! I will stay here till I get it.”</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter322"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-288">[Pg 288]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter322_hdg"><a href="#Chapter322_toc">CHAPTER XXII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">HUNTLY HILL (<i>continued</i>)</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">C<small>ALLANDAR</small> sat a little apart from his men on the fringe -of the fir-wood; on the other side of the clearing on which the party had bivouacked -Wattie formed the centre of a group. It was past sunset, and the troop-horses, having been -watered and fed, were picketed together. Callandar’s own horse snatched at the straggling -bramble-shoots behind a tree.</p> - -<p>The officer sat on a log, his chin in his hand, pondering on the amazing story that the -beggar had divulged. It was impossible to know what to make of it, but, in spite of -himself, he was inclined to believe it. He had questioned and cross-questioned him, but he -had been able to form no definite opinion. Wattie had described his meeting with Archie on -the day of the taking of the ship; he had told him how he had accompanied him on his way, -how he had been forced to ask shelter for him at the farm, how he had lain and listened in -the darkness to his feverish wanderings and his appeals to Logie. If the beggar’s tale had -been true, there seemed to be <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-289">[Pg -289]</a></span>no doubt that the intelligence officer whose services were so much valued -by Cumberland, had taken money from the rebels, though it seemed that he had hesitated -over the business. His conscience must have smitten him even in his dreams. “I will say -nothing, but I will tell you all!” he had cried to Logie. “I shall know where you are, but -they shall never know!” In his delirium, he had taken the beggar for the man whose -fellow-conspirator he was proving himself to be, and when consciousness was fighting to -return, and he had sense enough to know that he was not speaking to Logie, it was his -companion’s promise to deliver a message of reassurance that had given him peace and -sleep. “Tell him that he can trust me,” he had said. What puzzled Callandar was the same -thing that had puzzled Wattie: Why had these two men, linked together by a hidden -understanding, fought? Perhaps Flemington had repented of the part he was playing, and had -tried to cut himself adrift. “Let me go!” he had exclaimed. It was all past Callandar’s -comprehension. At one moment he was inclined to look on Wattie as an understudy for the -father of lies; at another, he asked himself how he could have had courage to invent such -a calumny—how he had dared to choose a man for his victim who had reached the position -that Archie had gained. But he realized that, had Wattie been inventing, he would hardly -have invented the idea of a fight between Flemington and Captain Logie. That little -incongruous touch <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-290">[Pg -290]</a></span>seemed to Callandar’s reasonable mind to support the truth of his -companion’s tongue.</p> - -<p>And then there was Flemington’s sudden departure. It did not look so strange since he -had heard what the beggar had to say. He began to think of his own surprise at finding -Archie in pain from a wound which seemed to have troubled him little, so far, and to -suspect that his reliable wits had been stimulated to find a new use for his injured arm -by the sight of Huntly Hill combined with the news in his pocket. His gorge rose at the -thought that he had been riding all these days side by side with a very prince among -traitors. His face hardened. His own duty was not plain to him, and that perturbed him so -much that his habitual outward self-repression gave way. He could not sit still while he -was driven by his perplexities. He sprang up, walking up and down between the trees. Ought -he to send a man straight off to Brechin with a summary of the beggar’s statement? He -could not vouch for the truth of his information, and there was every chance of it being -disregarded, and himself marked as the discoverer of a mare’s nest. There was scarcely -anything more repugnant to Callandar than the thought of himself in this character, and -for that reason, if for no other, he inclined to the risk; for he had the overwhelmingly -conscientious man’s instinct for martyrdom.</p> - -<p>His mind was made up. He took out his pocket-book and wrote what he had to say in <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-291">[Pg 291]</a></span>the fewest and -shortest words. Then he called the corporal, and, to his extreme astonishment, ordered him -to ride to Brechin. When the man had saddled his horse, he gave him the slip of paper. He -had no means of sealing it, here in the fir-wood, but the messenger was a trusted man, one -to whom he would have committed anything with absolute conviction. He was sorry that he -had to lose him, for he could not tell how long he might be kept on the edge of the Muir, -nor how much country he would have to search with his tiny force; but there was no help -for it, and he trusted that the corporal would be sent back to him before the morrow. He -was the only person to whom he could give the open letter. When the soldier had mounted, -Callandar accompanied him to the confines of the wood, giving him instructions from the -map he carried.</p> - -<p>Wattie sat on the ground beside his cart; his back was against a little raised bank. -Where his feet should have been, the yellow dog was stretched, asleep. As Callandar and -his corporal disappeared among the trees, he began to sing ‘The Tod’ in his rich voice, -throwing an atmosphere of dramatic slyness into the words that made his hearers shout with -delight at the end of each verse.</p> - -<p>When he had finished the song, he was barely suffered to take breath before being -compelled to begin again; even the prisoner, who lay resting, still bound, within sight of -the soldiers, listened, <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-292">[Pg -292]</a></span>laughing into his red beard. But suddenly he stopped, rising to his -feet:</p> - -<div class="verse"> -<blockquote class="stanza"> -<p class="i0">“A lang-leggit deevil wi’ his hand upon the gate,</p> - -<p class="i0a">An’ aye the Guidwife cries to him——”</p> -</blockquote> -</div> - -<p class="noindent">Wattie’s voice fell, cutting the line short, for a rush of steps was -bursting through the trees—was close on them, dulled by the pine-needles -underfoot—sweeping over the stumps and the naked roots. The beggar stared, clutching at -the bank. His three companions sprang up.</p> - -<p>The wood rang with shots, and one of the soldiers rolled over on his face, gasping as -he tried to rise, struggling and snatching at the ground with convulsed fingers. The -remaining two ran, one towards the prisoner, and one towards the horses which were -plunging against each other in terror; the latter man dropped midway, with a bullet -through his head.</p> - -<p>The swiftness of the undreamed-of misfortune struck panic into Wattie, as he sat alone, -helpless, incapable either of flight or of resistance. One of his dogs was caught by the -leaden hail and lay fighting its life out a couple of paces from where he was left, a -defenceless thing in this sudden storm of death. Two of the remaining three went rushing -through the trees, yelping as the stampeding horses added their share to the danger and -riot. These had torn up their heel-pegs, which, wrenched easily from a resistance made for -the most part of moss and pine-needles, swung and whipped at the ends of the flying <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-293">[Pg 293]</a></span>ropes behind the crazy -animals as they dashed about. The surviving trooper had contrived to catch his own horse, -and was riding for his life towards the road by which they had come from Edzell. The only -quiet thing besides the beggar was the yellow cur who stood at his master’s side, stiff -and stubborn and ugly, the coarse hair rising on his back.</p> - -<p>Wattie’s panic grew as the drumming of hoofs increased and the horses dashed hither and -thither. He was more afraid of them than of the ragged enemy that had descended on the -wood. The dead troopers lay huddled, one on his face and the other on his side; the -wounded dog’s last struggles had ceased. Half a dozen men were pursuing the horses with -outstretched arms, and Callandar’s charger had broken loose with its comrades, and was -thundering this way and that, snorting and leaping, with cocked ears and flying mane.</p> - -<p>The beggar watched them with a horror which his dislike and fear of horses made -agonizing, the menace of these irresponsible creatures, mad with excitement and terror, so -heavy, so colossal when seen from his own helpless nearness to the earth that was shaking -under their tread, paralyzed him. His impotence enwrapped him, tragic, horrible, a -nightmare woven of death’s terrors; he could not escape; there was no shelter from the -thrashing hoofs, the gleaming iron of the shoes. The cumbrous perspective of the great -animals blocked out the sky with its bulk as <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-294">[Pg 294]</a></span>their rocking bodies went by, plunging, slipping, -recovering themselves within the cramped circle of the open space. He knew nothing of what -was happening, nor did he see that the prisoner stood freed from his bonds. He knew James -Logie by sight, and he knew Ferrier, but, though both were standing by the red-bearded -man, he recognized neither. He had just enough wits left to understand that Callandar’s -bivouac had been attacked, but he recked of nothing but the thundering horses that were -being chased to and fro as the circle of men closed in. He felt sick as it narrowed and he -could only flatten himself, stupefied, against the bank. The last thing he saw was the -yellow coat of his dog, as the beast cowered and snapped, keeping his post with desperate -tenacity in the din.</p> - -<p>The bank against which he crouched cut the clearing diagonally, and as the men pressed -in nearer round the horses, Callandar’s charger broke out of the circle followed by the -two others. A cry from the direction in which they galloped, and the sound of frantic -nearing hoofs, told that they had been headed back once more. The bank was high enough to -hide Wattie from them as they returned, but he could feel the earth shake with their -approach, which rang in his ears like the roar of some dread, implacable fate. He could -see nothing now, as he lay half-blind with fear, but he was aware that his dog had leaped -upon the bank behind him, and he heard the well-known voice, hoarse and brutal with -defiant <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-295">[Pg 295]</a></span>agony, -just above his head. All the qualities that have gone to make the dog the outcast of the -East seemed to show in the cur’s attitude as he raised himself, an insignificant, common -beast, in the path of the great, noble, stampeding creatures. It was the curse of his -curship that in this moment of his life, when he hurled all that was his in the world—his -low-bred body—against the danger that swooped on his master, he should take on no nobility -of aspect, nothing to picture forth the heart that smote against his panting ribs. Another -moment and the charger had leaped at the bank, just above the spot where Skirling Wattie’s -grizzled head lay against the sod.</p> - -<p>The cur sprang up against the overwhelming bulk, the smiting hoofs, the whirl of -heel-ropes, and struck in mid-air by the horse’s knee, was sent rolling down the slope. As -he fell there was a thud of dislodged earth, and the charger, startled by the sudden -apparition of the prostrate figure below him, slipped on the bank, stumbled, sprang, and -checked by the flying rope, crashed forward, burying the beggar under his weight.</p> - -<p>James and Ferrier ran forward as the animal struggled to its feet, unhurt; it tore past -the men, who had broken their line as they watched the fall. The three horses made off -between the trees, and Logie approached the beggar. He lay crushed and mangled, as quiet -as the dead troopers on the ground.</p> - -<p>There was no mistaking Wattie’s rigid stillness, and as James and Ferrier, with the -red-bearded <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-296">[Pg 296]</a></span>man, -approached him, they knew that he would never rise to blow his pipes nor to fill the air -with his voice again. The yellow dog was stretched, panting, a couple of paces from the -grotesque body, which had now, for the first time, taken on dignity. As Logie bent to -examine him, and would have lifted him, the cur dragged himself up; one of his hind-legs -was broken, but he crawled snarling to the beggar’s side, and turned his maimed body to -face the men who should dare to lay a hand on Wattie. The drops poured from his hanging -tongue and his eye was alight with the dull flame of pain. He would have torn Logie to -bits if he could, as he trailed himself up to shelter the dead man from his touch. He made -a great effort to get upon his legs and his jaws closed within an inch of James’s arm.</p> - -<p>One of the men drew the pistol from his belt.</p> - -<p>“Ay, shoot the brute,” said another.</p> - -<p>James held up his hand.</p> - -<p>“The man is dead,” said he, looking over his shoulder at his comrades.</p> - -<p>“And you would be the same if yon dog could reach you,” rejoined Ferrier. “Let me shoot -him. He will only die lying here.”</p> - -<p>“Let him be. His leg is broken, that is all.”</p> - -<p>The cur made another attempt to get his teeth into Logie, and almost succeeded.</p> - -<p>Ferrier raised his pistol again, but James thrust it back.</p> - -<p>“The world needs a few such creatures as that <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-297">[Pg 297]</a></span>in it,” said he. “Lord! Ferrier, what a heart there is in -the poor brute!”</p> - -<p>“Stand away from him, Logie, he is half mad.”</p> - -<p>“We must get away from this place,” said James, unheeding, “or that man who has ridden -away will bring the whole country about our ears. It has been a narrow escape for you, -Gourlay,” he said to the released prisoner. “We must leave the old vagabond lying where he -is.”</p> - -<p>“There is no burying him with that devil left alive!” cried Ferrier. “I promise you I -will not venture to touch him.”</p> - -<p>“My poor fellow,” said James, turning to the dog, “it is of no use; you cannot save -him. God help you for the truest friend that a man ever had!”</p> - -<p>He pulled off his coat and approached him. The men stood round, looking on in amazement -as he flung it over the yellow body. The dog yelled as Logie grasped and lifted him, -holding him fast in his arms; but his jaws were muffled in the coat, and the pain of the -broken limb was weakening his struggles.</p> - -<p>Ferrier looked on with his hands on his hips. He admired the dog, but did not always -understand James.</p> - -<p>“You are going to hamper yourself with him now?” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>“Give me the piper’s bonnet,” said the other. “There! push it into the crook of my arm -between the poor brute and me. It will make him go the easier. You will need to scatter -now. Leave the <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-298">[Pg -298]</a></span>piper where he is. A few inches of earth will do him no good. Ferrier, I am -going. You and I will have to lie low for awhile after this.”</p> - -<p>The cur had grown exhausted, and ceased to fight; he shivered and snuffled feebly at -the Kilmarnock bonnet, the knob of which made a red spot against the shirt on James’s -broad breast. Ferrier and Gourlay glanced after him as he went off between the trees. But -as they had no time to waste on the sight of his eccentricities, they disappeared in -different directions.</p> - -<p>Dusk was beginning to fall on the wood and on the dead beggar as he lay with his two -silent comrades, looking towards the Grampians from the top of Huntly Hill.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter323"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-299">[Pg 299]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter323_hdg"><a href="#Chapter323_toc">CHAPTER XXIII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE MUIR OF PERT</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">C<small>ALLANDAR</small> watched his corporal riding away from the -confines of the wood. His eyes followed the horse as it disappeared into hollows and -threaded its way among lumps of rock. He stood for some time looking out over the -landscape, now growing cold with the loss of the sun, his mind full of Flemington. Then he -turned back with a sigh to retrace his way. His original intention in bringing Wattie up -the hill came back to him, and he remembered that he had yet to discover whether he could -identify the red-bearded man. It was at this moment that the fusillade from his -halting-place burst upon him. He stopped, listening, then ran forward into the wood, the -map from which he had been directing the corporal clutched in his hand.</p> - -<p>He had gone some distance with the soldier, so he only reached the place when the quick -disaster was over to hear the hoof-beats of the escaping horses dying out as they galloped -down Huntly Hill. The smoke of the firearms hung below the branches like a grey canopy, -giving the unreality <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-300">[Pg -300]</a></span>of a vision to the spectacle before him. He could not see the beggar’s -body, but the overturned cart was in full view, a ridiculous object, with its wooden -wheels raised, as though in protest, to the sky. He looked in vain for a sign of his third -man, and at the sight of the uniform upon the two dead figures lying on the ground he -understood that he was alone. Of the three private soldiers who had followed him down Glen -Esk there was not one left with him. Archie, the traitor, was gone, and only the -red-bearded man remained. He could see him in the group that was watching James Logie as -he captured the struggling dog.</p> - -<p>Callandar ground his teeth; then he dropped on one knee and contemplated the sight from -behind the great circle of roots and earth that a fallen tree had torn from the sod. Of -all men living he was one of the last who might be called a coward, but neither was he one -of those hot-heads who will plunge, to their own undoing and to that of other people, into -needless disaster. He would have gone grimly into the hornet’s nest before him, pistol in -hand, leaving heaven to take care of the result, had the smallest advantage to his king -and country been attainable thereby. His own death or capture would do no more than -prevent him from carrying news of what had happened to headquarters, and he decided, with -the promptness hidden behind his taciturn demeanour, that his nearest duty was to identify -James Logie, if he were present. Callandar’s <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-301">[Pg 301]</a></span>duty was the only thing that he always saw quickly.</p> - -<p>From his shelter he marked the two Jacobite officers, and, as he knew Ferrier very well -from description, he soon made out the man he wanted. James was changed since the time -when he had first come across Archie’s path. His clothes were worn and stained, and the -life of wandering and concealment that he had led since he parted from the Prince had set -its mark on him. He had slept in as many strange places of late as had the dead beggar at -his feet; anxious watching and lack of food and rest were levelling the outward man to -something more primitive and haggard than the gallant-looking gentleman of the days before -Culloden, yet there remained to him the atmosphere that could never be obliterated, the -personality that he could never lose until the earth should lie on him. He was no better -clothed than those who surrounded him, but his pre-eminence was plain. The watcher -devoured him with his eyes as he turned from his comrades, carrying the dog.</p> - -<p>As soon as he was out of sight, the rebels scattered quietly, and Callandar crouched -lower, praying fortune to prevent anyone from passing his retreat. None approached him, -and he was left with the three dead men in possession of the wood.</p> - -<p>He rose and looked at his silent comrades. It would be useless to follow Logie, -because, with so many of his companions dispersing at this <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-302">[Pg 302]</a></span>moment about the fringes of the Muir of -Pert, he could hardly hope to do so unobserved. There would be no chance of getting to -close quarters with him, which was Callandar’s chief desire, for the mere suspicion of a -hostile presence would only make James shift his hiding-place before the gathering troops -could draw their cordon round him. He abandoned the idea with regret, telling himself that -he must make a great effort to get to Brechin and to return with a mounted force in time -to take action in the morning. The success of his ambush and his ignorance that he had -been watched would keep Logie quiet for the night.</p> - -<p>He decided to take the only road that he knew, the one by which Flemington had left -him. The upper one entangled itself in the Muir, and might lead him into some conclave of -the enemy. He began to descend in the shadows of the coming darkness that was drawing -itself like an insidious net over the spacious land. He had almost reached the road, when -a moving object not far from him made him stop. A man was hurrying up the hill some little -way to his right, treading swiftly along, and, though his head was turned from Callandar, -and he was not near enough for him to distinguish his features, the sling across his -shoulder told him that it was Flemington.</p> - -<p>Callandar stood still, staring after him. Archie’s boldness took away his breath. Here -he was, returning on his tracks, and if he kept his direction, he would have to pass -within a few hundred yards of the spot on which he knew that the <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-303">[Pg 303]</a></span>companions he had left would be halted; -Callandar had pointed out the place to him as they approached the hill together.</p> - -<p>Archie took a wider sweep as he neared the wood, and the soldier, standing in the -shadow of a rowan-tree, whose berries were already beginning to colour for autumn, saw -that he was making for the Muir, and knew that the beggar was justified. One thing only -could be bringing him back. He had come, as Wattie had predicted, to warn Logie.</p> - -<p>He had spoken wisdom, that dead vagabond, lying silent for ever among the trees; he had -assured him that Flemington would not suffer him to take Logie. He knew him, and he had -laughed at the idea of his wounded arm turning him out of his road. “It’s no the like o’ -that that gars the like o’ him greet,” he had said; and he was right. Callandar, watching -the definite course of the figure through the dusk, was sure that he was taking the -simplest line to a retreat whose exact position he knew. He turned and followed, running -from cover to cover, his former errand abandoned. It was strange that, in spite of all, a -vague gladness was in his heart, as he thought that Archie was not the soft creature that -he had pretended to be. There were generous things in Callandar. Then his generous impulse -turned back on him in bitterness, for it occurred to him that Archie had been aware of -what lay waiting for them, and had saved himself from possible accident in time.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p> - -<p>They went on till they reached the border of the Muir, Flemington going as -unconcernedly as if he were walking in the streets of Brechin, though he kept wide of the -spot on which he believed the riders to have disposed themselves for the night. There was -no one who knew him in that part of the country, and he wore no uniform to make him -conspicuous in the eyes of any chance passer in this lonely neighbourhood. As Callandar -emerged from the straggling growth at the Muir’s edge, he saw him still in front going -through the deep thickness of the heather.</p> - -<p>Callandar wished that he knew how far the Muir extended, and exactly what lay on its -farther side. His map was thrust into his coat, but it was now far too dark for him to -make use of it; the tall figure was only just visible, and he redoubled his pace, gaining -a little on it. A small stationary light shone ahead, evidently the window of some -muirland hovel. There is nothing so difficult to decide as the distance of a light at -night, but he guessed that it was the goal towards which Archie was leading. He went -forward, till the young man’s voice hailing someone and the sound of knocking made him -stop and throw himself down in the heather. He thought he heard a door shut. When all had -been quiet for a minute he rose up, and, approaching the house, took up his stand not a -dozen yards from the walls.</p> - -<p>Perplexity came on him. He had been surprisingly successful in pursuing Flemington -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-305">[Pg 305]</a></span>unnoticed as far -as this hovel, but he had yet to find out who was inside it. Perhaps the person he had -heard speaking was Logie, but equally perhaps not. There was no sound of voices within, -though he heard movements; he dared not approach the uncurtained window to look in, for -the person whose step he heard was evidently standing close to it. He would wait, -listening for that person to move away, and then would try his luck. He had spent perhaps -ten minutes thus occupied when, without a warning sound, the door opened and Archie stood -on the threshold, as still as though he were made of marble. It was too dark for either -man to see more than the other’s blurred outline.</p> - -<p>Flemington looked out into the night.</p> - -<p>“Come in, Callandar!” he called. “You are the very man I want!”</p> - -<p>The soldier’s astonishment was such that his feet seemed frozen to the ground. He did -not stir.</p> - -<p>“Come!” cried Archie. “You have followed me so far that you surely will not turn back -at the last step. I need you urgently, man. Come in!”</p> - -<p>He held the door open.</p> - -<p>Callandar entered, pushing past him, and found himself in a low, small room, wretchedly -furnished, with another at the back opening out of it. Both were empty, and the light he -had seen was standing on the table.</p> - -<p>“There is no one here!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> - -<p>“No,” said Flemington.</p> - -<p>“Where is the man you were speaking to?”</p> - -<p>“He is gone. The ill-mannered rogue would not wait to receive you.”</p> - -<p>“It was that rebel! It was Captain Logie!” cried Callandar.</p> - -<p>“It was not Logie; you may take my word for that,” replied Archie. He sat down on the -edge of the table and crossed his legs. “Try again, Callandar,” he said lightly.</p> - -<p>Callandar’s lips were drawn into an even line, but they were shaking. The mortification -of finding that Archie had been aware of his presence, had pursued his way unconcerned, -knowing that he followed, had called him in as a man calls the serving-man he has left -outside, was hot in him. No wonder his own concealment had seemed so easy.</p> - -<p>“You have sent him to warn Logie—that is what you have done!” he cried. “You are a -scoundrel—I know that!”</p> - -<p>He stepped up to him, and would have laid hold of his collar, but the sling stopped -him.</p> - -<p>“I have. Callandar, you are a genius.”</p> - -<p>As the other stood before him, speechless, Flemington rose up.</p> - -<p>“You have got to arrest me,” he said; “that is why I called you in. I might have run -out by the back of the house, like the man who is gone, who went with my message almost -before the door was shut. Look! I have only one serviceable arm and no sword. I left it -where I left my <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-307">[Pg -307]</a></span>horse. And here is my pistol; I will lay it on the table, so you will have -no trouble in taking me prisoner. You have not had your stalking for nothing, after all, -you mighty hunter before the Lord!”</p> - -<p>“You mean to give yourself up—you, who have taken so much care to save yourself?”</p> - -<p>“I have meant to ever since I saw you under the rowan-tree watching me, flattened -against the trunk like a squirrel. I would as soon be your prisoner as anyone -else’s—sooner, I think.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot understand you!” exclaimed Callandar, taking possession of the weapon Archie -had laid down.</p> - -<p>“It is hard enough to understand oneself, but I do at last,” said the other. “Once I -thought life easy, but mine has been mighty difficult lately. From here on it will be -quite simple. And there will not be much more of it, I fancy.”</p> - -<p>“You are right there,” said Callandar grimly.</p> - -<p>“I can see straight before me now. I tell you life has grown simple.”</p> - -<p>“You lied at the cross roads.”</p> - -<p>“I did. How you looked after me as I went! Well, I have done what I suppose no one has -ever done before: I have threatened to report you for neglecting your duty.” He threw back -his head and laughed. “And I am obliged to tell you to arrest me now. O Callandar, who -will correct your backslidings when there is an end of me?”</p> - -<p>The other did not smile as he looked at Flemington’s <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-308">[Pg 308]</a></span>laughing eyes, soft and sparkling under -the downward curve of his brows. Through his anger, the pity of it all was smiting him, -though he was so little given to sentiment. Perhaps Archie’s charm had told on him all the -time they had been together, though he had never decided whether he liked him or not. And -he looked so young when he laughed.</p> - -<p>“What have you done?” he cried, pacing suddenly up and down the little room. “You have -run on destruction, Flemington; you have thrown your life away. Why have you done -this—you?”</p> - -<p>“If a thing is worthless, there is nothing to do but throw it away.”</p> - -<p>Callandar watched him with pain in his eyes.</p> - -<p>“What made you suspect me?” asked Archie. “You can tell me anything now. There is only -one end to this business. It will be the making of you.”</p> - -<p>“Pshaw!” exclaimed the other, turning away.</p> - -<p>“Why did you follow me?” continued Archie.</p> - -<p>Callandar was silent.</p> - -<p>“Tell me this,” he said at last: “What makes you give yourself up now, without a -struggle or a protest, when little more than two hours ago you ran from what you knew was -to come, there, at the foot of the hill? Surely your friends would have spared -<i>you!</i>”</p> - -<p>“Now it is I who do not understand you,” said Archie.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> - -<p>His companion stood in front of him, searching his face.</p> - -<p>“Flemington, are you lying? On your soul, are you lying?”</p> - -<p>“Of what use are lies to me now?” exclaimed Archie impatiently. “Truth is a great -luxury; believe me, I enjoy it.”</p> - -<p>“You knew nothing of what was waiting for us at the top of Huntly Hill?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing, as I live,” said Archie.</p> - -<p>“The beggar betrayed you,” said Callandar. “When you were gone he told me that you were -in Logie’s pay—that you would warn him. He was right, Flemington.”</p> - -<p>“I am not in Logie’s pay—I never was,” broke in Archie.</p> - -<p>“I did not know what to think,” the soldier went on; “but I took him up Huntly Hill -with me, and when we had unsaddled, and the men were lying under the trees, I sent the -corporal to Brechin with the information. I went with him to the edge of the wood, and -when I came back there was not a man left alive. Logie and Ferrier were there with a horde -of their rebels. They had come to rescue the prisoner, and he was loose.”</p> - -<p>“Then he <i>was</i> Ferrier’s cousin!” exclaimed Flemington. “We were right.”</p> - -<p>“One of my men escaped,” continued Callandar, “or I suppose so, for he was gone. The -beggar and the other two were killed, and the horses had stampeded.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p> - -<p>“So Wattie is dead,” mused Flemington. “Gad, what a voice has gone with him!”</p> - -<p>“They did not see me, but I watched them; I saw him—Logie—he went off quickly, and he -took one of the beggar’s dogs with him, snarling and struggling, with his head smothered -in his coat. Then I went down the hill, meaning to make for Brechin, and I saw you coming -back. I knew what you were about, thanks to that beggar.”</p> - -<p>Neither spoke for a minute. Archie was still sitting on the table. He had been looking -on the ground, and he raised his eyes to his companion’s face.</p> - -<p>Something stirred in him, perhaps at the thought of how he stood with fate. He was not -given to thinking about himself, but he might well do so now.</p> - -<p>“Callandar,” he said, “I dare say you don’t like me——” Then he broke off, laughing. -“How absurd!” he exclaimed. “Of course you hate me; it is only right you should. But -perhaps you will understand—I think you will, if you will listen. I was thrown against -Logie—no matter how—but, unknowing what he did, he put his safety in my hands. He did -more. I had played upon his sympathy, and in the generosity of his heart he came to my -help as one true man might do to another. I was not a true man, but he did not know that; -he knew nothing of me but that I stood in need, and he believed I was as honest as -himself. He thought I was with his own <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-311">[Pg 311]</a></span>cause. That was what I wished him to believe—had almost -told him.”</p> - -<p>Callandar listened, the lines of his long face set.</p> - -<p>“I had watched him and hunted him,” continued Archie, “and my information against him -was already in the beggar’s hands, on its way to its mark. I could not bring myself to do -more against him then. What I did afterwards was done without mention of his name. You -see, Callandar, I have been true to nobody.”</p> - -<p>He paused, waiting for comment, but the other made none.</p> - -<p>“After that I went to Edinburgh,” he continued, “and he joined the Prince. Then I went -north with Cumberland. I was freed from my difficulty until they sent me here to take him. -The Duke gave me my orders himself, and I had to go. That ride with you was hell, -Callandar, and when we met the beggar to-day I had to make my choice. That was the -turning-point for me. I could not go on.”</p> - -<p>“He said it was not your wound that turned you aside.”</p> - -<p>“He was a shrewd rascal,” said Flemington. “I wish I could tell how he knew so much -about me.”</p> - -<p>“It was your own tongue: once you spent the night in a barn together when you were -light-headed from a blow, and you spoke all night of Logie. You said enough to put him on -your track. That is what he told me as we went up Huntly Hill.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> - -<p>Archie shrugged his shoulders and rose up.</p> - -<p>“Now, what are you going to do?” he said.</p> - -<p>“I am going to take you to Brechin.”</p> - -<p>“Come, then,” said Archie, “we shall finish our journey together after all. It has been -a hard day. I am glad it is over.”</p> - -<p>They went out together. As Callandar drew the door to behind them Archie stood -still.</p> - -<p>“If I have dealt double with Logie, I will not do so with the king,” said he. “This is -the way out of my difficulty. Do you understand me, Callandar?”</p> - -<p>The darkness hid the soldier’s face.</p> - -<p>Perhaps of all the people who had played their part in the tangle of destiny, -character, circumstance, or whatsoever influences had brought Flemington to the point at -which he stood, he was the one who understood him best.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter324"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter324_hdg"><a href="#Chapter324_toc">CHAPTER XXIV<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE VANITY OF MEN</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">T<small>HE</small> last months had been a time of great anxiety to -Lord Balnillo. In spite of his fine steering, and though he had escaped from molestation, -he was not comfortable as he saw the imprisonments and confiscations that were going on; -and the precariousness of all that had been secure disturbed him and made him restless. He -was unsettled, too, by his long stay in Edinburgh, and he hankered afresh after the town -life in which he had spent so many of his years. His trees and parks interested him still, -but he looked on them, wondering how long he would be allowed to keep them. He was lonely, -and he missed James, whom he had not seen since long before Culloden, the star of whose -destiny had led him out again into the world of chance.</p> - -<p>He had the most upsetting scheme under consideration that a man of his age can -entertain. At sixty-four it is few people who think seriously of changing their state, yet -this was what David Balnillo had in mind; for he had found so many good reasons for -offering his hand to Christian Flemington that he had decided at last to take <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-314">[Pg 314]</a></span>that portentous step. -The greatest of these was the effect that an alliance with the Whig lady would produce in -the quarters from which he feared trouble. His estate would be pretty safe if Madam -Flemington reigned over it.</p> - -<p>It was pleasant to picture her magnificent presence at his table; her company would rid -country life of its dulness, and on the visits to Edinburgh, which he was sure she would -wish to make, the new Lady Balnillo would turn their lodging into a bright spot in -society. He smoothed his silk stockings as he imagined the stir that his belated romance -would make. He would be the hero of it, and its heroine, besides being a safeguard to his -property, would be a credit to himself.</p> - -<p>There were some obstacles to his plan, and one of them was Archie; but he believed -that, with a little diplomacy, that particular difficulty might be overcome. He would -attack that side of the business in a very straightforward manner. He would make Madam -Flemington understand that he was large-minded enough to look upon the episode in which he -had borne the part of victim in a reasonable yet airy spirit. In the game in which their -political differences had brought them face to face the honours had been with the young -man; he would admit that with a smile and with the respect that one noble enemy accords to -another. He would assure her that bygones should be bygones, and that when he claimed -Archie as his grandson-in-law, he would <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-315">[Pg 315]</a></span>do so without one grudging backward glance at the -circumstances in which they had first met. His magnanimity seemed to him an almost -touching thing, and he played with the idea of his own apposite grace when, in some sly -but genial moment, he would suggest that the portrait upstairs should be finished.</p> - -<p>What had given the final touch to his determination was a message that James had -contrived to send him, which removed the last scruple from his heart. His brother’s danger -had weighed upon David, and it was not only its convenience to himself at this juncture -which made him receive it with relief. Logie was leaving the country for Holland, and the -next tidings of him would come from there, should he be lucky enough to reach its shores -alive.</p> - -<p>Since the rescue of Gourlay the neighbourhood of the Muir of Pert—the last of his -haunts in which Logie could trust himself—had become impossible for him, and he was now -striving to get to a creek on the coast below Peterhead. It was some time since a roof had -been over him, and the little cottage from which Flemington had despatched his urgent -warning stood empty. Its inmate had been his unsuspected connection with the world since -his time of wandering had begun; for though his fatal mistake in discovering this link in -his chain of communication to Flemington had made him abjure its shelter, he had had no -choice for some time between the Muir and any other place.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-316">[Pg 316]</a></span></p> - -<p>The western end of the county swarmed with troops. Montrose was subdued; the passes of -the Grampians were watched; there remained only this barren tract west of the river; and -the warning brought to him from a nameless source had implored him to abandon it before -the soldiery, which his informant assured him was collecting to sweep it from end to end, -should range itself on its borders.</p> - -<p>Archie had withheld his name when he sent the dweller in the little hovel speeding into -the night. He was certain that in making it known to James he would defeat his own ends, -for Logie would scarcely be disposed to trust his good faith, and might well look on the -message as a trick to drive him into some trap waiting for him between the Muir and the -sea.</p> - -<p>James did not give his brother any details of his projected flight; he merely bade him -an indefinite good-bye. The game was up—even he was obliged to admit that—and Ferrier, -whose ardent spirit had been one with his own since the beginning of all things, was -already making for a fishing village, from which he hoped to be smuggled out upon the high -seas. Nothing further could be gained in Angus for the Stuart cause. The friends had spent -themselves since April in their endeavours to resuscitate the feeling in the country, but -there was no more money to be raised, no more men to be collected. They told themselves -that all they could do now was to wait in the hope of a day when their services <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-317">[Pg 317]</a></span>might be needed again. -That day would find them both ready, if they were above ground.</p> - -<p>David knew that, had James been in Scotland, he would not have dared to think of -bringing Christian Flemington to Balnillo.</p> - -<p>He had a feeling of adventure when he started from his own door for Ardguys. The slight -awe with which Christian still inspired him, even when she was most gracious, was -beginning to foreshadow itself, and he knew that his bones would be mighty stiff on the -morrow; there was no riding of the circuit now to keep him in practice in the saddle. But -he was not going to give way to silly apprehensions, unsuited to his age and position; he -would give himself every chance in the way of effect. The servant who rode after him -carried a handsome riding-suit for his master to don at Forfar before making the last -stage of his road. It grieved Balnillo to think how much of the elegance of his -well-turned legs must be unrevealed by his high boots. He was a personable old gentleman, -and his grey cob was worthy of carrying an eligible wooer. He reached Ardguys, and -dismounted under its walls on the following afternoon.</p> - -<p>He had sent no word in front of him. Christian rose when he was ushered into her -presence, and laid down the book in her hand, surprised.</p> - -<p>“You are as unexpected as an earthquake,” she exclaimed, as she saw who was her -visitor.</p> - -<p>“But not as unwelcome?” said David.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p> - -<p>“Far from it. Sit down, my lord. I had begun to forget that civilization existed, and -now I am reminded of it.”</p> - -<p>He bowed, delighted.</p> - -<p>A few messages and compliments, a letter or two despatched by hand, had been their only -communications since the judge left Edinburgh, and his spirits rose as he found that she -seemed really pleased to see him.</p> - -<p>“And what has brought you?” asked Christian, settling herself with the luxurious -deliberation of a cat into the large chair from which she had risen. “Something good, -certainly.”</p> - -<p>“The simple desire to see you, ma’am. Could anything be better?”</p> - -<p>It was an excellent opening; but he had never, even in his youth, been a man who ran -full tilt upon anything. He had scarcely ever before made so direct a speech.</p> - -<p>She smiled, amused. There had been plenty of time for thought in her solitude; but, -though she had thought a good deal about him, she had not a suspicion of his errand. She -saw people purely in relation to the uses she had for them, and, officially, she had -pronounced him harmless to the party in whose interests she had kept him at her side. The -circumstances were not those which further sentiment.</p> - -<p>“I have spent this quiet time in remembering your kindnesses to me,” he began, inspired -by her smile.</p> - -<p>“You call it a quiet time?” she interrupted. <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-319">[Pg 319]</a></span>“I had not looked on it in that way. Quiet for us, -perhaps, but not for the country.”</p> - -<p>“True, true,” said he, in the far-away tone in which some people seek to let -unprofitable subjects melt.</p> - -<p>Now that the active part of the rebellion had become history, she had no hesitation in -speaking out from her solid place on the winning side.</p> - -<p>“This wretched struggle is over, and we may be plain with one another, Lord Balnillo,” -she continued. “You, at least, have had much to alarm you.”</p> - -<p>“I have been a peaceful servant of law and order all my life,” said he, “and as such I -have conceived it my place to stand aloof. It has been my duty to restrain violence of all -kinds.”</p> - -<p>“But you have not restrained your belongings,” she observed boldly.</p> - -<p>He was so much taken aback that he said nothing.</p> - -<p>“Well, my lord, it is one of my regrets that I have never seen Captain Logie. At least -you have to be proud of a gallant man,” she went on, with the same impulse that makes all -humanity set a fallen child upon its legs.</p> - -<p>But Balnillo had a genius for scrambling to his feet.</p> - -<p>“My brother has left the country in safety,” he rejoined, with one of those random -flashes of sharpness that had stood him in such good stead. His cunning was his guardian -angel; for he did <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-320">[Pg -320]</a></span>not know what she knew—namely, that Archie had left Fort Augustus in -pursuit of James.</p> - -<p>“Indeed?” she said, silenced.</p> - -<p>She was terribly disappointed, but she hid her feelings in barefaced composure.</p> - -<p>The judge drew his chair closer. Here was another opening, and his very nervousness -pushed him towards it.</p> - -<p>“Ma’am,” he began, clearing his throat, “I shall not despair of presenting James to -you. When the country is settled—if—in short——”</p> - -<p>“I imagine that Captain Logie will hardly trust himself in Scotland either in my -lifetime or in yours. We are old, you and I,” she added, the bitterness of her -disappointment surging through her words.</p> - -<p>She watched him to see whether this barbed truth pierced him; it pierced herself as she -hurled it.</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” said he; “but age has not kept me from the business I have come upon. I have -come to put a very particular matter before you.”</p> - -<p>She was still unsuspicious, but she grew impatient. He had wearied her often in -Edinburgh with tedious histories of himself, and she had endured them then for reasons of -policy; but she felt no need of doing so here. It was borne in upon her, as it has been -borne in upon many of us, that a person who is acceptable in town may be unendurable in -the country. She had not thought of that as she welcomed him.</p> - -<p>“Ma’am,” he went on, intent on nothing but his <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-321">[Pg 321]</a></span>affair, “I may surprise you—I trust I shall not offend -you. At least you will approve the feelings of devotion, of respect, of admiration which -have brought me here. I have an ancient name, I have sufficient means—I am not -ill-looking, I believe——”</p> - -<p>“Are you making me a proposal, my lord?”</p> - -<p>She spoke with an accent of derision; the sting of it was sharp in her tone.</p> - -<p>“There is no place for ridicule, ma’am. I see nothing unsuitable in my great regard for -you.”</p> - -<p>He spoke with real dignity.</p> - -<p>She had not suspected him of having any, personally, and she had forgotten that an -inherited stock of it was behind him. The rebuke astonished her so much that she scarcely -knew what reply to make.</p> - -<p>“As I said, I believe I am not ill-looking,” he repeated, with an air that lost him his -advantage. “I can offer you such a position as you have a right to expect.”</p> - -<p>“You also offer me a brother-in-law whose destination may be the scaffold,” she said -brutally; “do not forget that.”</p> - -<p>This was not to be denied, and for a moment he was put out. But it was on these -occasions that he shone.</p> - -<p>“Let us dismiss family matters from our minds and think only of ourselves,” said he; -“my brother is an outlaw, and as such is unacceptable to you, and your grandson has every -reason to be ashamed to meet me. We can set these disadvantages, <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-322">[Pg 322]</a></span>one against the other, and agree to -ignore them.”</p> - -<p>“I am not disposed to ignore Archie,” said she.</p> - -<p>“Well, ma’am, neither am I. I hope I am a large-minded man—indeed, no one can sit on -the bench for the time that I have sat on it and not realize the frailty of all -creatures——”</p> - -<p>“My lord——” began Christian.</p> - -<p>But it is something to have learned continuance of speech professionally, and Balnillo -was launched; also his own magnanimous attitude had taken his fancy.</p> - -<p>“I will remember nothing against him,” said he. “I will forget his treatment of my -hospitality, and the discreditable uses to which he put my roof.”</p> - -<p>“Sir!” broke in Christian.</p> - -<p>“I will remember that, according to his lights, he was in the exercise of his duty. -Whatsoever may be my opinion of the profession to which he was compelled, I will thrust it -behind me with the things best forgotten.”</p> - -<p>“That is enough, Lord Balnillo,” cried Madam Flemington, rising.</p> - -<p>“Sit, madam, sit. Do not disturb yourself! Understand me, that I will allow every -leniency. I will make every excuse! I will dwell, not on the fact that he was a spy, but -on his enviable relationship to yourself.”</p> - -<p>She stood in the middle of the room, threatening him with her eyes. Some people tremble -<span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-323">[Pg 323]</a></span>when roused to -the pitch of anger that she had reached; some gesticulate; Christian was still.</p> - -<p>He had risen too.</p> - -<p>“If you suppose that I could connect myself with a disloyal house you are much -mistaken,” she said, controlling herself with an effort. “I have no quarrel with your -name, Lord Balnillo; it is old enough. My quarrel is with the treason in which it has been -dipped. But I am very well content with my own. Since I have borne it, I have kept it -clean from any taint of rebellion.”</p> - -<p>“But I have been a peaceful man,” he protested. “As I told you, the law has been my -profession. I have raised a hand against no one.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think I do not know you?” exclaimed she. “Do you suppose that my ears were shut -in the winter, and that I heard nothing in all the months I spent in Edinburgh? What of -that, Lord Balnillo?”</p> - -<p>“You made no objection to me then, ma’am. I was made happy by being of service to -you.”</p> - -<p>She laughed scornfully.</p> - -<p>“Let us be done with this,” she said. “You have offered yourself to me and I refuse the -offer. I will add my thanks.”</p> - -<p>The last words were a masterpiece of insolent civility.</p> - -<p>A gilt-framed glass hung on the wall, one of the possessions that she had brought with -her from France. David suddenly caught sight of his own head reflected in it above the -lace cravat for which he had paid so much; the spectacle <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-324">[Pg 324]</a></span>gathered up his recollections and his -present mortification, and fused them into one stab of hurt vanity.</p> - -<p>“I see that you can make no further use of me,” he said.</p> - -<p>“None.”</p> - -<p>He walked out of the room. At the door he turned and bowed.</p> - -<p>“If you will allow me, I will call for my horse myself,” said he.</p> - -<p>He went out of the house and she stood where she was, thinking of what he had told her -about his brother; she had set her heart upon Archie’s success in taking Logie, and now -the man had left the country and his chance was gone. The proposal to which she had just -listened did not matter to her one way or the other, though he had offended her by the -attitude he took up when making it. He was unimportant. It was of Archie that she thought -as she watched the judge and his servant ride away between the ash-trees. They were -crossing the Kilpie burn when her maid came in, bringing a letter. The writing on it was -strange to Christian.</p> - -<p>“Who has brought this?” she asked as she opened it.</p> - -<p>“Just a callant,” replied the girl.</p> - -<p>She read the letter, which was short. It was signed ‘R. Callandar, Captain,’ and was -written at Archie Flemington’s request to tell her that he was under arrest at Brechin on -a charge of conspiring with the king’s enemies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> - -<p>The writer added a sentence, unknown, as he explained, to Flemington.</p> - -<p>“The matter is serious,” he wrote, “the Duke of Cumberland is still in Edinburgh. It -might be well if you could see him. Make no delay, as we await his orders.”</p> - -<p>She stood, turning cold, her eyes fixed on the maid.</p> - -<p>“Eh—losh, mem!” whimpered Mysie, approaching her with her hands raised.</p> - -<p>Madam Flemington felt as though her brain refused to work. There seemed to be nothing -to drive it forward. The world stood still. The walls, an imprisoning horror, shut her in -from all movement, all action, when action was needed. She had never felt Ardguys to be so -desperately far from the reach of humanity, herself so much cut off from it, as now. And -yet she must act. Her nearest channel of communication was the judge, riding away.</p> - -<p>“Fool!” she cried, seizing Mysie, “run—run! Send the boy after Lord Balnillo. Tell him -to run!”</p> - -<p>The maid hesitated, staring at the pallor of her mistress’s face.</p> - -<p>“Eh, but, mem—sit you down!” she wailed.</p> - -<p>Christian thrust her from her path as though she had been a piece of furniture, and -swept into the hall. A barefooted youth was outside by the door. He stared at her, as -Mysie had done. She took him by the shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Run! Go instantly after those horses! That <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-326">[Pg 326]</a></span>is Lord Balnillo!” she cried, pointing to the riders, who -were mounting the rise beyond the burn. “Tell him to return at once. Tell him he must come -back!”</p> - -<p>He shook off her grip and ran. He was a corner-boy from Brechin and he had a taste for -sensation.</p> - -<p>Madam Flemington went back into her room. Mysie followed her, whimpering still, and she -pushed her outside and sank down in her large chair. She could not watch the window, for -fear of going mad.</p> - -<p>She sat still and steady until she heard the thud of bare feet on the stone steps, and -then she hurried out.</p> - -<p>“He tell’t me he wadna bide,” said the corner-boy breathlessly. “He was vera well -obliged to ye, he bad’ me say, but he wadna bide.”</p> - -<p>Christian left him and shut herself into the room, alone. Callandar’s bald lines had -overpowered her completely, leaving no place in her brain for anything else. But now she -saw her message from Lord Balnillo’s point of view, and anger and contempt flamed up -again, even in the midst of her trouble.</p> - -<p>“The vanity of men! Ah, God, the vanity of men!” she cried, throwing out her hands, as -though to put the whole race of them from her.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter325"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter325_hdg"><a href="#Chapter325_toc">CHAPTER XXV<br /> -<span class="chap_title">A ROYAL DUKE</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">T<small>HE</small> Duke of Cumberland was at Holyrood House. He had -come down from the North by way of Stirling, and having spent some days in Edinburgh, he -was making his final arrangements to set out for England. He was returning in the enviable -character of conquering hero, and he knew that a great reception awaited him in London, -where every preparation was being made to do him honour; he was thinking of these things -as he sat in one of the grim rooms of the ancient palace. There was not much luxury here; -and looking across the table at which he sat and out of the window, he could see the dirty -roofs of the Canongate—a very different prospect from the one that would soon meet his -eyes. He was sick of Scotland.</p> - -<p>Papers were littered on the table, and his secretary had just carried away a bundle -with him. He was alone, because he expected a lady to whom he had promised an audience, -but he was not awaiting her with the feelings that he generally brought to such occasions. -Cumberland had <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-328">[Pg -328]</a></span>received the visits of many women alone since leaving England, but his -guests were younger than the one whose approach he could now hear in the anteroom outside. -He drew his brows together, for he expected no profit and some annoyance from the -interview.</p> - -<p>He rose as she was ushered in and went to the open fireplace, where he stood awaiting -her, drawn up to his full height, which was not great. The huge iron dogs behind him and -the high mantel-piece above his head dwarfed him with their large lines. He was not an -ill-looking young man, though his hair, pulled back and tied after the fashion of the day, -showed off the receding contours that fell away from his temples, and made his blue eyes -look more prominent than they were.</p> - -<p>He moved forward clumsily as Christian curtsied.</p> - -<p>“Come in, madam, come in. Be seated. I have a few minutes only to give you,” he said, -pointing to a chair on the farther side of the table.</p> - -<p>She sat down opposite to him.</p> - -<p>“I had the honour of being presented to your Royal Highness last year,” she said.</p> - -<p>“I remember you well, ma’am,” replied he shortly.</p> - -<p>“It is in the hope of being remembered that I have come,” said she. “It is to ask you, -Sir, to remember the services of my house to yours.”</p> - -<p>“I remember them, ma’am; I forget nothing.”</p> - -<p>“I am asking you, in remembering, to forget <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-329">[Pg 329]</a></span>one thing,” said she. “I shall not waste your Royal -Highness’s time and mine in beating about bushes. I have travelled here from my home -without resting, and it is not for me to delay now.”</p> - -<p>He took up a pen that lay beside him, and put the quill between his teeth.</p> - -<p>“Your Royal Highness knows why I have come,” continued she, her eyes falling from his -own and fixing themselves on the pen in his mouth. He removed it with his fat hand, and -tossed it aside.</p> - -<p>“There is absolute proof against Flemington,” said he. “He accuses himself. I presume -you know that.”</p> - -<p>“I do. This man—Captain Logie—has some strange attraction for him that I cannot -understand, and did him some kindness that seems to have turned his head. His regard for -him was a purely personal one. It was personal friendship that led him to—to the madness -he has wrought. His hands are clean of conspiracy. I have come all this way to assure your -Highness of that.”</p> - -<p>“It is possible,” said Cumberland. “The result is the same. We have lost the man whose -existence above ground is a danger to the kingdom.”</p> - -<p>“I have come to ask you to take that difference of motive into consideration,” she went -on. “Were the faintest shadow of conspiracy proved, I should not dare to approach you; my -request should not pass my lips. I have been in correspondence with him during the whole -of the campaign, and I know that he served the king loyally. I beg <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-330">[Pg 330]</a></span>your Highness to -remember that now. I speak of his motive because I know it.”</p> - -<p>“You are fortunate, then,” he interrupted.</p> - -<p>“Captain Callandar, to whom he gave himself up, wrote me two letters at his request, -one in which he announced his arrest, and one which I received as I entered my coach to -leave my door. Archie knows what is before him,” she added; “he has no hope of life and no -knowledge of my action in coming to your Highness. But he wished me to know the truth—that -he had conspired with no one. He is ready to suffer for what he has done, but he will not -have me ashamed of him. Look, Sir——”</p> - -<p>She pushed the letter over to him.</p> - -<p>“His motives may go hang, madam,” said Cumberland.</p> - -<p>“Your Highness, if you have any regard for us who have served you, read this!”</p> - -<p>He rose and went back to the fireplace.</p> - -<p>“There is no need, madam. I am not interested in the correspondence of others.”</p> - -<p>He was becoming impatient; he had spent enough time on this lady. She was not young -enough to give him any desire to detain her. She was an uncommon-looking woman, certainly, -but at her age that fact could matter to nobody. He wondered, casually, whether the old -stories about her and Charles Edward’s father were true. Women struck him only in one -light.</p> - -<p>“You will not read this, your Royal Highness?” said Christian, with a little tremor of -voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-331">[Pg 331]</a></span></p> - -<p>“No, ma’am. I may tell you that my decision has not altered. The case is not one that -admits of any question.”</p> - -<p>“Your Highness,” said Christian, rising, “I have never made an abject appeal to anyone -yet, and even now, though I make it to the son of my king, I can hardly bring myself to -utter it. I deplore my—my boy’s action from the bottom of my soul. I sent him from me—I -parted from him nearly a year ago because of this man Logie.”</p> - -<p>He faced round upon her and put his hands behind his back.</p> - -<p>“What!” he exclaimed, “you knew of this? You have been keeping this affair secret -between you?”</p> - -<p>“He went to Montrose on the track of Logie in November,” said she; “he was sent there -to watch his movements before Prince Charles marched to England, and he did so well that -he contrived to settle himself under Lord Balnillo’s roof. In three days he returned to -me. He had reported on Logie’s movements—I know that—your Highness’s agents can produce -his report. But he returned to my house to tell me that, for some fool’s reason, some -private question of sentiment, he would follow Logie no longer. ‘I will not go man-hunting -after Logie’—those were his words.”</p> - -<p>“Madam——” began Cumberland.</p> - -<p>She put out her hand, and her gesture seemed to reverse their positions.</p> - -<p>“I told him to go—I told him that I would <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-332">[Pg 332]</a></span>sooner see him dead than that he should side with the -Stuarts! He answered me that he could have no part with rebels, and that his act concerned -Logie alone. Then he left me, and on his way to Brechin he received orders to go to the -Government ship in Montrose Harbour. Then the ship was attacked and taken.”</p> - -<p>“It was Flemington’s friend, Logie, who was at the bottom of that business,” said -Cumberland.</p> - -<p>“He met Logie and they fought,” said Madam Flemington. “I know none of the details, but -I know that they fought. Then he went to Edinburgh.”</p> - -<p>“It is time that we finished with this!” exclaimed Cumberland. “No good is served by -it.”</p> - -<p>“I am near the end, your Highness,” said Christian, and then paused, unnerved by the -too great suggestiveness of her words.</p> - -<p>“These things are no concern of mine,” he observed in the pause; “his movements do not -matter. And I may tell you, ma’am, that my leisure is not unlimited.”</p> - -<p>It was nearing the close of the afternoon, and the sun stood like a red ball over the -mists of the Edinburgh smoke. Cumberland’s business was over for the day, and he was -looking forward to dining that evening with a carefully chosen handful of friends, male -and female.</p> - -<p>Her nerve was giving way against the stubborn detachment of the man. She felt herself -helpless, and her force ineffective. Life was breaking up <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-333">[Pg 333]</a></span>round her. The last man she had -confronted had spurned her in the end—through a mistake, it was true—but the opportunity -had been given him by her own loss of grip in the bewilderment of a crisis. This one was -spurning her too. But she went on.</p> - -<p>“He performed his work faithfully from that day forward, as your Royal Highness knew -when you took him to the North. His services are better known to you, Sir, than to anyone -else. He gave himself up to Captain Callandar as the last proof that he could take no part -with the rebels. He threw away his life.”</p> - -<p>“<i>That</i>, at least, is true,” said the Duke, with a sneer. He was becoming -exasperated, and the emphasis which he put on the word ‘that’ brought the slow blood to -her face. She looked at him as though she saw him across some mud-befouled stream. Even -now her pride rose above the despair in her heart. He was not sensitive, but her -expression stung him.</p> - -<p>“I am accustomed to truth,” she replied.</p> - -<p>He turned his back. There was a silence.</p> - -<p>“I came to ask for Archie’s life,” she said, in a toneless, steady voice, “but I will -go, asking nothing. Your Royal Highness has nothing to give that he or I would stoop to -take at your hands.”</p> - -<p>He stood doggedly, without turning, and he did not move until the sound of her sweeping -skirts had died away in the anteroom. Then he went out, a short, stoutish figure passing -along <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-334">[Pg 334]</a></span>the dusty -corridors of Holyrood, and entered a room from which came the ring of men’s voices.</p> - -<p>A party of officers in uniform got up as he came in. Some were playing cards. He went -up to one of the players and took those he held from between his fingers.</p> - -<p>“Give me your hand, Walden,” said he, “and for God’s sake get us a bottle of wine. Damn -me, but I hate old women! They should have their tongues cut out.”</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter326"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter326_hdg"><a href="#Chapter326_toc">CHAPTER XXVI<br /> -<span class="chap_title">THE VANISHING BIRD</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">T<small>HE</small> houses of Brechin climb from the river up the -slope, and a little camp was spread upon the crest of ground above them, looking down over -the uneven pattern of walls, the rising smoke, and the woods that cradled the Esk. Such of -Cumberland’s soldiery as had collected in Angus was drawn together here, and as the -country was settling down, the camp was increased by detachments of horse and foot that -arrived daily from various directions. The Muir of Pert was bare, left to the company of -the roe-deer and the birds, for James had been traced to the coast, and the hungry North -Sea had swallowed his tracks.</p> - -<p>The spot occupied by the tents of Callandar’s troop was in the highest corner of the -camp, the one farthest from the town, and the long northern light that lingered over the -hill enveloped the camp sounds and sights in a still, greenish clearness. There would be a -bare few hours of darkness.</p> - -<p>Callandar was now in command of a small force <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-336">[Pg 336]</a></span>consisting of a troop of his own regiment which had -lately marched in, and two of his men stood sentry outside the tent in which Archie -Flemington was sitting at an improvised table writing a letter.</p> - -<p>He had been a close prisoner since his arrest on the Muir of Pert, and during the week -that had elapsed, whilst correspondence about him and orders concerning him had gone to -and fro between Brechin and Edinburgh, he had been exclusively under Callandar’s charge. -That arrangement was the one concession made on his behalf among the many that had been -asked for by his friends. At his own request he was to remain Callandar’s prisoner till -the end, and it was to be Callandar’s voice that would give the order for his release at -sunrise to-morrow, and Callandar’s troopers whose hands would set him free.</p> - -<p>The two men had spent much time together. Though the officer’s responsibility did not -include the necessity of seeing much of his prisoner, he had chosen to spend nearly all -his leisure in Archie’s tent. They had drawn very near together, this incongruous pair, -though the chasm that lay between their respective temperaments had not been bridged by -words. They had sat together on many evenings, almost in silence, playing cards until one -of them grew drowsy, or some officious cock crowed on the outskirts of the town. Of the -incident which had brought them into their present relationship, they spoke not at <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-337">[Pg 337]</a></span>all; but sometimes -Archie had broken out into snatches of talk, and Callandar had listened, with his grim -smile playing about his mouth, to his descriptions of the men and things amongst which his -short life had thrown him. As he looked across at his companion, who sat, his eyes -sparkling in the light of the lantern, his expression changing with the shades of humour -that ran over his words, like shadows over growing corn, he would be brought up short -against the thought of the terrible incongruity to come—death. He could not think of -Archie and death. At times he would have given a great deal to pass on his responsibility -to some other man, and to turn his back on the place that was to witness such a tragedy. -In furthering Archie’s wishes by his own application for custody of him he had given him a -great proof of friendship—how great he was only to learn as the days went by. Would to God -it were over—so he would say to himself each night as he left the tent. He had thought -Archie soft when they parted at the cross-roads, and he had been sorry. There was no need -for sorrow on that score; never had been. The sorrow to him now was that so gallant, so -brilliant a creature was to be cut off from the life of the world, to go down into the -darkness, leaving so many of its inhabitants half-hearted, half-spirited, half alive, to -crawl on in an existence which only interested them inasmuch as it supplied their common -needs.</p> - -<p>His hostility against Logie ran above the level <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-338">[Pg 338]</a></span>of the just antagonism that a man feels -for his country’s enemy, and he questioned whether his life were worth the price that -Flemington was paying for it. The hurried words that Archie had spoken about Logie as they -left the hovel together had told him little, and that little seemed to him inadequate to -explain the tremendous consequences that had followed. What had Logie said or done that -had power to turn him out of his way? A man may meet many admirable characters among his -enemies without having his efforts paralyzed by the encounter. Flemington was not new to -his trade, and had been long enough in the secret service to know its requirements. A -certain unscrupulousness was necessarily among them, yet why had his gorge only risen -against it now? Callandar could find no signs in him of the overwrought sensibility that -seemed to have prompted his revolt against his task. Logie had placed his safety in -Archie’s hands, and it was in order to end that safety that the young man had gone out; he -had laid the trap and the quarry had fallen into it. What else had he expected? It was not -that Callandar could not understand the scruple; what he could not understand was why a -man of Archie’s occupation should suddenly be undone by it. Having accepted his task, his -duty had been plain. In theory, a rebel, to Callandar was a rebel, no more, and Archie, by -his deed, had played a rebel’s part; yet, in spite of that, the duty he must carry out on -the morrow was making his <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-339">[Pg -339]</a></span>heart sink within him. One thing about Archie stood out plain—he was not -going to shirk his duty to his king and yet take Government money. Whatsoever his doings, -the prisoner who sat in the tent over yonder would be lying under the earth to-morrow -because he was prepared to pay the last price for his scruple. No, he was not soft.</p> - -<p>Callandar would have died sooner than let him escape, yet his escape would have made -him glad.</p> - -<p>Callandar came across the camp and passed between the two sentries into Flemington’s -tent. The young man looked up from his writing.</p> - -<p>“You are busy,” said the officer.</p> - -<p>“I have nearly done. There seems so much to do at the last,” he added.</p> - -<p>The other sat down on the bed and looked at him, filled with grief. The lantern stood -by Archie’s hand. His head was bent into the circle of light, and the yellow shine that -fell upon it warmed his olive skin and brought out the brown shades in his brows and hair. -The changing curves of his mouth were firm in the intensity of his occupation. He had so -much expression as a rule that people seldom thought about his features but Callandar now -noticed his long chin and the fine lines of his nostril.</p> - -<p>His pen scratched on for a few minutes; then he laid it down and turned round.</p> - -<p>“You have done me many kindnesses, Callandar,” <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-340">[Pg 340]</a></span>said he, “and now I am going to ask you for another—the -greatest of all. It is everything to me that Captain Logie should get this letter. He is -safe, I hope, over the water, but I do not know where. Will you take charge of it?”</p> - -<p>“I will,” said the other—“yes.”</p> - -<p>The very name of Logie went against him.</p> - -<p>“You will have to keep it some little time, I fear,” continued Archie, “but when the -country has settled down you will be able to reach him through Lord Balnillo. Promise me -that, if you can compass it, he shall get this.”</p> - -<p>“If it is to be done, I will do it.”</p> - -<p>“From you, that is enough,” said Flemington, “I shall rest quietly.”</p> - -<p>He turned to his writing again.</p> - -<p>Callandar sat still, looking round the tent vaguely for something to distract his heavy -thoughts. A card lay on the ground and he picked it up. It was an ace, and the blank space -of white round it was covered with drawing. His own consideration had procured pens and -books—all that he could find to brighten the passing days for his prisoner. This was the -result of some impulse that had taken Flemington’s artistic fingers.</p> - -<p>It was a sketch of one of the sentries outside the tent door. The figure was given in a -few lines, dark against the light, and the outline of the man’s homely features had gained -some quality of suggestiveness and distinction by its <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-341">[Pg 341]</a></span>passage through Archie’s mind, and by the -way he had placed the head against the clouded atmosphere made by the smoke rising from -the camp. Through it, came a touched-in vision of the horizon beyond the tents. He looked -at it, seeing something of its cleverness, and tossed it aside.</p> - -<p>When Archie had ended his letter, he read it through:</p> - -<div class="letter"> -<p>“When this comes to your hands perhaps you will know what has become of me,” he had -written, “and you will understand the truth. I ask you to believe me, if only because -these are the last words I shall ever write. A man speaks the truth when it is a matter of -hours with him.</p> - -<p>“You know what brought me to Balnillo, but you do not know what sent me from it. I went -because I had no courage to stay. I was sent to find out how deep you were concerned in -the Stuart cause and to watch your doings. I followed you that night in the town, and my -wrist bears the mark you set on it still. That morning I despatched my confirmation of the -Government’s suspicions about you. Then I met you and we sat by the Basin of Montrose. God -knows I have never forgotten the story you told me.</p> - -<p>“Logie, I went because I could not strike you again. You had been struck too hard in -the past, and I could not do it. What I told you <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" -id="page-342">[Pg 342]</a></span>about myself was untrue, but you believed it, and would -have helped me. How could I go on?</p> - -<p>“Then, as I stood between the devil and the deep sea, my orders took me to the -<i>Venture</i>, and we met again on Inchbrayock. I had made sure you would be on the hill. -When I would have escaped from you, you held me back, and as we struggled you knew me for -what I was.</p> - -<p>“You know the rest as well as I do, and you know where I was in the campaign that -followed. Last of all I was sent out with those who were to take you on the Muir of Pert. -I had no choice but to go—the choice came at the cross-roads below Huntly Hill. It was I -who sent the warning to you from the little house on the Muir. You had directed me there -for a different purpose. I sent no name with my message, knowing that if I did you might -suspect me of a trick to entrap you again. That is all. There remained only the -consequences, and I shall be face to face with them to-morrow.</p> - -<p class="letter_last_para">“There is one thing more to say. Do not let yourself suppose -that I am paying for your life with mine. I might have escaped had I tried to do so—it was -my fault that I did not try. I had had enough of untruth, and I could no longer take the -king’s money; I had served his cause ill, and I could only pay for it. I have known two -true men in my life—you and the man who has promised that you shall receive this letter. -If <span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-343">[Pg 343]</a></span>you will -think of me without bitterness, remember that I should have been glad.</p> - -<p class="signature">“A<small>RCHIBALD</small> F<small>LEMINGTON</small>.”</p> -</div> - -<p>He folded the paper and rose, holding it out to Callandar.</p> - -<p>“I am contented,” said he; “go now, Callandar. You look worn out. I believe this last -night is trying you more than it tries me.”</p> - -<p class="break">* * * * *</p> - -<p>It was some little time after daybreak that Callandar stood again at the door of the -tent under the kindling skies. Archie was waiting for him and he came out. The eyes of the -sentries never left them as they went away together, followed by the small armed guard -that was at Callandar’s heels.</p> - -<p>The two walked a little apart, and when they reached the outskirts of the camp they -came to a field, an insignificant rough enclosure, in which half a dozen soldiers were -gathered, waiting. At the sight of Callandar the sergeant who was in charge of them began -to form them in a line some paces from the wall.</p> - -<p>Callandar and Flemington stopped. The light had grown clear, and the smoke that was -beginning to rise from the town thickened the air over the roofs that could be seen from -where they stood. The daily needs and the daily avocations were beginning again for those -below the hill, while they were ceasing for ever for him who stood <span -class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-344">[Pg 344]</a></span>above in the cool -morning. In a few minutes the sun would get up; already there was a sign of his coming in -the eastward sky.</p> - -<p>The two men turned to each other; they had nothing more to say. They had settled every -detail of this last act of their short companionship, so that there should be no -hesitation, no mistake, nothing to be a lengthening of agony for one, nor an evil memory -for the other.</p> - -<p>Archie held out his hand.</p> - -<p>“When I look at you,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Callandar.</p> - -<p>“There are no words, Callandar. Words are nothing—but the last bit of my life has been -the better for you.”</p> - -<p>For once speech came quickly to the soldier.</p> - -<p>“The rest of mine will be the better for you,” he answered. “You said once that you -were not a true man. You lied.”</p> - -<p>Flemington was giving all to disprove the accusation of untruth, and it was one of the -last things he was to hear.</p> - -<p>So, with these rough words—more precious to him than any that could have been -spoken—sounding in his ears, he walked away and stood before the wall. The men were lined -in front of him.</p> - -<p>His eyes roved for a moment over the slope of the country, the town roofs, the camp, -then went to the distance. A solitary bird was crossing the sky, and his look followed it -as it had followed the one he had seen when he made his choice <span class="pagenum"><a -class="newpage" id="page-345">[Pg 345]</a></span>at the foot of Huntly Hill. The first had -flown away, a vanishing speck, towards the shadows gathering about the hills. This one was -going into the sunrise. It was lost in the light. . . .</p> - -<p>“Fire!” said Callandar.</p> - -<p>For Archie was looking at him with a smile.</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter" id="Chapter327"> -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-346">[Pg 346]</a></span></p> - -<h4 id="Chapter327_hdg"><a href="#Chapter327_toc">CHAPTER XXVII<br /> -<span class="chap_title">EPILOGUE</span></a></h4> - -<p class="noindent">J<small>AMES</small> L<small>OGIE</small> stood at the window of a -house in a Dutch town. The pollarded beech, whose boughs were trimmed in a close screen -before the walls, had shed its golden leaves and the canal waters were grey under a cloudy -sky. The long room was rather dark, and was growing darker. By the chair that he had left -lay a yellow cur.</p> - -<p>He had been standing for some minutes reading a letter by the fading light, and his -back was towards the man who had brought it. The latter stood watching him, stiff and -tall, an object of suspicion to the dog.</p> - -<p>As he came to the end, the hand that held the paper went down to James’s side. The -silence in the room was unbroken for a space. When he turned, Callandar saw his powerful -shoulders against the dusk and the jealous shadows of the beech-tree’s mutilated arms.</p> - -<p>“I can never thank you enough for bringing me this,” said Logie. “My debt to you is -immeasurable.”</p> - -<p>“I did it for him—not for you.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-347">[Pg 347]</a></span></p> - -<p>Callandar spoke coldly, almost with antagonism.</p> - -<p>“I can understand that,” said James.</p> - -<p>But something in his voice struck the other. Though he had moved as if to leave him, he -stopped, and going over to the window, drew a playing-card from a pocket in his long -coat.</p> - -<p>“Look,” he said, holding out the ace scrawled with the picture of the sentry.</p> - -<p>James took it, and as he looked at it, his crooked lip was set stiffly, lest it should -tremble.</p> - -<p>“It was in his tent when I went back there—afterwards,” said Callandar.</p> - -<p>He took the card back, and put it in his pocket.</p> - -<p>“Then it was you——” began James.</p> - -<p>“He was my prisoner, sir.”</p> - -<p>James walked away again and stood at the window.</p> - -<p>Callandar waited, silent.</p> - -<p>“I must wish you a good-day, Captain Logie,” he said at last, “I have to leave Holland -to-night.”</p> - -<p>James followed him down the staircase, and they parted at the outer door. Callandar -went away along the street, and James came back slowly up the steep stairs, his hand on -the railing of the carved banisters. He could scarcely see his way.</p> - -<p>The yellow dog came to meet him when he entered his room, and as his master, still -holding the letter, carried it again to the light, he followed. Half-way across the floor -he turned to sniff at an old Kilmarnock bonnet that lay by the wainscot near the corner in -which he slept.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum"><a class="newpage" id="page-348">[Pg 348]</a></span></p> - -<p>He put his nose against it, and then looked at Logie. Trust was in his eyes and -affection; but there was inquiry, too.</p> - -<p>“My poor lad,” said James, “we both remember.”</p> - -<p class="end"><span class="spacing">THE EN</span>D</p> - -<hr class="printer" /> - -<p class="printer">BILLING AND SONS, LTD., PRINTERS, GUILDFORD</p> -</div> - -<div class="chapter tnote"> -<h3 class="tnote" id="tnote">Transcriber’s Note</h3> - -<p>This transcription is based on images posted by the HathiTrust Digital Library from a -copy made available by the New York Public Library and digitized by Google:</p> - -<p class="link"><a -href="https://catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/100614266"> -catalog.hathitrust.org/Record/100614266</a></p> - -<p>The following changes were made to the printed text:</p> - -<ul> -<li>No attempt was made to reproduce the convention of using opening quotation marks along -the left margin when quoting a letter. See pp. 31-35, p. 107, and pp. 341-43.</li> - -<li>p. 14: by the abrupt departure of his accuser,—Changed the comma after “accuser” to a -period.</li> - -<li>p. 22: Where is your postillion?—Changed “postillion” to “postilion” for -consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 32: But I am telling you only effects whenyou are wanting causes.—Changed “whenyou” -to “when you”.</li> - -<li>p. 40: The author’s note defining “Tod,” originally at the bottom of the page, has -been moved to the end of the chapter in the html-based versions of this transcription or -placed in square brackets next to the word in the text version.</li> - -<li>p. 52: The wall which bounded the great Balnillo grassparks—Changed “grassparks” to -“grass-parks” for consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 60: who had been inces santly absent—Changed “inces santly”, which was split -between lines without a hyphen, to “incessantly”.</li> - -<li>p. 94: for his throat had grown thick—Added a period after “thick”.</li> - -<li>p. 97: I left the Scots’ Brigade—Deleted the apostrophe after “Scots” for -consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 104: the gallant background of the Scots’ Brigade—Deleted the apostrophe after -“Scots” for consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 104: the grave at Bergen op Zoom—Changed “Bergen op Zoom” to “Bergen-op-Zoom” for -consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 145: I will give you the details of my report quickly.—Added a closing quotation -mark after “quickly.”</li> - -<li>p. 157: that overlooked the mass of shiping opposite Ferryden.—Changed “shiping” to -“shipping”.</li> - -<li>p. 175: was grapling with him so that he could not get his arm free—Changed “grapling” -to “grappling”.</li> - -<li>p. 190: The women were ruuning out of their houses too.—Changed “ruuning” to -“running”.</li> - -<li>p. 191: “There’s fechtin!” . . . “Fechtin?” . . . “Ay, there’s -fechtin . . .”—Added an apostrophe after “fechtin” for consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 195: would make him no safer from Lord Balnillno.—Changed “Balnillno” to -“Balnillo”.</li> - -<li>p. 215: The author’s notes defining “kyte” and “kaipit,” originally at the bottom of -the page, have been moved to the end of the chapter in the html-based versions of this -transcription or placed in square brackets next to the word in the text version.</li> - -<li>p. 215: a’ tell ’t Maister Flemington the road to Aberbrothock.—Deleted the space -before the apostrophe in “tell ’t” for consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 215: he tell ’t me.—Deleted the space before the apostrophe in “tell ’t” for -consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 216: A’ tell ’t him wha ’d get him a passage to Leith—Deleted the space before the -apostrophe in “tell ’t” for consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 229: to begin the seaach for Flemington.—Changed “seaach” to “search”.</li> - -<li>p. 231: another smaller appartment could be—Changed “appartment” to “apartment”.</li> - -<li>p. 272: partial cultivation down to the Basin of Montrose—Added a period after -“Montrose”.</li> - -<li>p. 280: He had just began the ascent—Changed “began” to “begun”.</li> - -<li>p. 286: a’ve tell ’t ye afore an’ a’m telling ye again—Deleted the space before the -apostrophe in “tell ’t” for consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 288: on whicht he party had bivouacked—Changed “whicht he” to “which the”.</li> - -<li>p. 291: he gave himt he slip of paper—Changed “himt he” to “him the”.</li> - -<li>p. 297: what a heart there is the poor brute!—Inserted the word “in” between “is” and -“the”.</li> - -<li>p. 311: Callander listened, the lines of his long face set.—Changed “Callander” to -“Callandar” for consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 311: You see, Callander, I have been true to nobody.—Changed “Callander” to -“Callandar” for consistency.</li> - -<li>p. 325: the Duke of Cumberlaid is still in Edinburgh.—Changed “Cumberlaid” to -“Cumberland”.</li> - -<li>p. 327: he could see the dirty roofs of the Cannongate—Changed “Cannongate” to -“Canongate”.</li> - -<li>p. 336: it was to be Calandar’s voice—Changed “Calandar’s” to “Callandar’s”.</li> - -<li>p. 342: but you believed it, and would have helped me?—Changed the question mark at -the end of the sentence to a period.</li> - -<li>p. 347: Callandar spoke coldly, almost with antagonism—Added a period at the end of -the sentence.</li> -</ul> - -<p>Spellings deemed to be variants (e.g., “carring” and “East Nauk”) were retained.</p> -</div> - 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