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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 18:01:32 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 18:01:32 -0700 |
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diff --git a/76963-0.txt b/76963-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa2bd8e --- /dev/null +++ b/76963-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12000 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76963 *** + + This ebook was created in honour of + Distributed Proofreaders’ 25th Anniversary. + + + + +[Illustration: + + _From an Oil Painting._ + +JOHN ERSKINE OF ALVA.] + + + + + THE + SILVER GLEN + + A Story of the Rebellion of 1715 + + _AS TOLD BY BARBARA, LADY FLEMING, IN THE + YEAR 1755; AT THE REQUEST OF HER + KINSMAN, SIR HENRY ERSKINE._ + + BY + BESSIE DILL + + AUTHOR OF + “MY LADY NAN,” “THE FINAL GOAL,” ETC., ETC. + + + LONDON + DIGBY, LONG & CO. + 18 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. + 1909 + + + + + To + MRS. ERSKINE-MURRAY AND HER FAMILY + This Book is affectionately + Dedicated + B. D. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + + INTRODUCTION. Telling of some old Letters, and the origin of the + writing of this Book 7 + + CHAPTER I. Shows how Barbara Stewart left school 12 + + ” II. How Barbara came home to Rosyth for the last time 18 + + ” III. Of my new Guardian, and the beginning of all her + kindness 24 + + ” IV. I go to Alva, and become a member of a very + charming household 30 + + ” V. I hear of the Silver Glen for the first time 37 + + ” VI. Introduces several characters who are all more or + less interesting 43 + + ” VII. I become aware that something important is afoot 55 + + ” VIII. I go to Dysart and there learn some Scottish History 64 + + ” IX. We meet one morning a very courtly gentleman, and + have news of the King’s coming 73 + + ” X. Back at Alva we become still more involved in + affairs 82 + + ” XI. Sir John prepares for action. Barbara goes out to + dine, and hears many strange things 90 + + ” XII. Tells of the only occasion upon which I met the Earl + of Mar, also of how my Lady Erskine stole down the + turret-stairs in answer to a knock 99 + + ” XIII. Shows how a woman’s actions are ofttimes + misunderstood, and how Betty signalled to a + passenger in a boat 108 + + ” XIV. Tells how Mistress Betty had a brilliant notion, + and how it was carried out 116 + + ” XV. In which Betty and Barbara behave very foolishly, + and the latter is introduced to Mr. Anthony Fleming 125 + + ” XVI. Tells of various matters to be found in the + History-books, and of a romantic tale which is not 136 + + ” XVII. Shows how we are swept into the stream of events 149 + + ” XVIII. Tells of a dark hour, and of a great awakening 160 + + ” XIX. Shows how the Cause suffers many reverses; and how + Mr. Anthony Fleming says “Thank you!” 171 + + ” XX. Mr. Fleming rides away from Alva; The King lands, + and Sir John returns to Scotland not quite in the + manner he intended 181 + + ” XXI. Tells of the coming of the King to Perth, and what + ensued thereafter 189 + + ” XXII. How we hear tidings that make our hearts ache, and + ill prepare us for the great surprise 197 + + ” XXIII. Tells of further sad doings, and of the beauty and + burden of the Spring 208 + + ” XXIV. My Lady hears from Sir John, and I pay my third + visit to Dysart 217 + + ” XXV. Tells of an unexpected meeting and a glad surprise + for Barbara 226 + + ” XXVI. Barbara is accused of cruelty and indiscretion 238 + + ” XXVII. Shows how slowly the time passes when the heart is + heavy 254 + + ” XXVIII. Tells of the good fortune for Betty and of the + evil deeds of the Parliament 268 + + ” XXIX. The Calamity falls, and my Lady attends her + sister’s wedding in very low spirits 282 + + ” XXX. The affair of the Mine in the Mountain is much + discussed in London, but with no comforting results 292 + + ” XXXI. The matter is still further delayed, but our + anxieties continue 300 + + ” XXXII. Shows something of the trials and perplexities of + our good Sir John over the business 308 + + ” XXXIII. The story ends in peace and sunshine, and I take + leave of my kind readers 314 + + + + +PREFACE + + +The Letters of Lady Erskine of Alva which appear in this tale are at +once its chief interest and the origin of its being; for my desire +in writing “The Silver Glen” is to make known to a wider circle the +vivid story of which they are the outcome. My conviction that they +would prove as attractive to others as to myself induced the late Mr. +Erskine-Murray, among whose family-papers they are preserved, to give +me his kind permission to use them. + +To weave a romance around the names of persons who have really lived, +and whose descendants are still in existence, is a liberty which calls +for an apology on the part of the author. With the exception of Barbara +Stewart, Anthony Fleming and the younger David Pitcairn none of the +principal characters in the following story are wholly fictitious; but +I trust, that as I have kept very closely to facts, no serious cause +of offence can be found. Most of the incidents described are matters +of history, and the narrative is purposely told in a plain and simple +manner, as much as possible in keeping with the tone of the Letters. + +Among the books from which I have obtained information, and in some +cases, borrowed freely, I may mention Professor Terry’s useful and +interesting volume, _The Chevalier de St. George and the Jacobite +Movements_; _The Memoirs of the Master of Sinclair_; Rae’s _History of +the Rebellion_ (1718); _Scotland and Scotsmen of the 18th Century_, by +Ramsay of Ochtertyre; and the _Calendar of the Stuart Papers belonging +to His Majesty at Windsor Castle_ (Vol. II. and III.) In the Eighth +Report of the Historical Manuscripts Commission also, there are +numerous details on the subject of Sir John Erskine’s Silver Mines. + +In view of the new light recently thrown upon the Character of James +(The Old Pretender), a fact very clearly brought out by Mr. Andrew Lang +in his _History of Scotland_ (Vol IV.) it is particularly interesting +to note the remark of Lady Erskine in Letter XVI.: “There is one +advantage,” she writes to her husband, “of being with Kid (_i.e._, +James), that you will live mighty regular and get no ill examples.” + +My warmest thanks are due, in the first place, to the late Mr. +Erskine-Murray for his kind permission to use these Letters; I should +also like to record my gratitude to Miss Johnstone of Alva, to the Rev. +Robert Paul, F.R.S.A., Dollar, N.B., and to the Rev. A. Thomson Grant, +Chaplain at Wemyss Castle, who have all in different ways assisted me, +as well as to the Faculty of Advocates at Edinburgh for their courtesy +in allowing me to read in their Library. Except for the punctuation, +and the omission of a sentence occasionally where the meaning is +obscure, Lady Erskine’s Letters are reproduced as they were written. + + B. D. + + + + +_NOVELS BY BESSIE DILL_ + + +MY LADY NAN + +“A daintily written eighteenth century romance. The story is thoroughly +entertaining.”--_Daily Express._ + +“A charming tale.”--_The Times._ + +“A very pretty tale, written with a light and powerful touch.”--_The +Guardian._ + +“Written with a dainty efficiency which is very attractive. A charming +tale.”--_Liverpool Courier._ + + +THE FINAL GOAL + +“As fascinating a romance as one could lay hands on, and will enhance +the reputation of the writer. There is a genuine literary ring about +the whole book. It is a book to read and enjoy.”--_The Scotsman._ + +“An altogether delightful story.”--_Liverpool Daily Courier._ + + +THE LORDS OF LIFE + +“An excellent and well written book. ‘Van,’ the charming Scottish +heroine, with that unfortunate possession, ‘a temperament,’ who leaves +her northern home at the Manse, for Anglo-Indian life, is more than +usually interesting.”--_Pall Mall Gazette._ + +“The story of a governess’s life, artistically told, and with a +fidelity to nature which makes it appear as if a slab out of the living +world had been set before us, we were watching the actions and reading +the thoughts of the people of it. The story is told with a tragic +passion which reminds one of Jane Eyre.”--_Sheffield Daily Telegraph._ + +“A grand story, the charm of the book is in the development of +character, the refining of the gold of a girl’s joyful innocence in the +fire of experience.”--_Leeds Mercury._ + + +THE STORY OF BELL + +“The story is simply and touchingly told, and retains the reader’s +sympathy and interest to the end.”--_Pall Mall Gazette._ + +“The story is a masterpiece ... a story with a great and noble purpose, +which we cannot read without feeling all the better.”--_Christian +Journal._ + + + + +THE SILVER GLEN + + + + +INTRODUCTION + + +A few days ago, as I sat in my pleasant parlour looking out on one of +the fairest prospects in this our fair land of England, my cousin, Sir +Henry Erskine, who hath been spending some days at our house, entered +the room with his quick soldier-like step, and came to a halt, as he +would say, at my side. + +“See here, cousin!” he cried, holding out to me a packet of papers, +“there is something here that will interest you. These letters were +given me by my Uncle Charles, my Lord Tinwald, t’other day when I was +visiting at Alva House, and I have but just looked into them. They were +written, I find, by my mother of blessed memory to Sir John, while he +was abroad in exile for his misdeeds, as one may say now, in the year +1716.” + +I caught at the papers with a cry, half of delight and half of tender +sorrow, for if Henry’s voice had softened as he mentioned his mother’s +name, ’twas no more than her due, who was ever the wisest and most +loving of parents; and if to him, the thought of her represented all +that is sweetest and best in womanhood--as one may suppose, seeing he +hath not yet crowned perfection by taking unto himself a wife--to me +it did no less, being as I was the object of her most tender care and +kindness at a time in my life when I sorely needed both. + +The sight of those thin broad sheets, covered with the fine clear +writing which had once been so familiar to me, brought the tears to +my eyes. Sure they were well worn, those ancient letters, having been +borne in Sir John’s wallet, no doubt, for many a weary month, and since +lain by in some desk or chest at Alva House for safety; and at the +sight of the seal on the back, so carefully broken that the wax still +retained on many of the sheets its perfect imprint, a vision of my +dear lady folding and sealing with trembling haste one of these same +precious letters, came so clear to my mind, that almost I thought I +heard her voice calling to me as in the days of old. + +“See, Henry,” I said softly, pointing to the seal, “how well I remember +the ring she ever used. Too large for her slender hand, she wore it +on a long gold chain around her neck. Your father, Sir John, had used +it when writing to her before they were wed, and, sweet woman that +she was, she would never have any other for the letters that passed +between them. ‘For, Barbara,’ said she to me once, and I can still see +her smile, ‘the legend is so true, that ’twould be folly to take to +another.’” + +Together we bent over the faded wax, and Henry laid his lips upon it +gently. There has ever been a spirit of poetry and chivalry in this +stalwart soldier, whom as a little child I had so often held upon my +knee. + +“A heart embossed, and round it the words, ‘_Vous y regnez seul_.’ +True, indeed!” said he with a smile; “Sir John reigned there alone, +and even her children were in her heart but little subjects to their +rightful king.” + +“Sure, my dear, you lost nothing by that,” I cried, “for happier +children, or a kindlier home I never did see. The love that filled my +lady’s heart was a bounteous fire that brightened and warmed all who +approached her. Sweet soul! I thank God still for having known and +loved her.” + +Saying this I turned my eyes again upon the letters in my hands, and so +potent was the spell of the first few words I read, that my mind leapt +back across a gulf of forty years, and left my body sitting blind and +deaf in the chair in my sunny English parlour. + +A sudden laugh from Sir Henry brought my wits home again. + +“Cousin Barbara,” he cried, “I have been speaking to you for some +minutes and not one word have you heard of my discourse. Nay, dear +cousin, do not apologise. The love you bore my mother hath ever been a +tie between her children and yourself, and I know well that your tender +heart is filled with regretful memories at sight of these letters writ +by her hand.” + +“She was indeed the dearest woman-friend I ever had,” said I. “Alas! +too early lost.” + +“And for that very reason,” said he, “I made my bold request, which, +as you did not hear it, I must needs repeat. Will you not, for the +love you bore those that are passed away, and a little for the love +of us who remain, write out for our instruction and profit, your +recollections of that troublous time, with something also of your own +romance, and the strange story of the Silver Glen which I have so often +heard from you as a boy?” + +My gaze went past him out of the window, across miles of green pasture +and softly waving foliage to the silver shining of the Severn beyond. +Far, far away the hills of Wales rose into the sky, the day being clear +and bright. Close to the house the flowers were blooming very sweet +and fragrant, for the month was June, and in the shrubbery behind the +garden, the blackbirds and thrushes sang their best. + +“Of course, if you should think it too great a labour--” Sir Henry +broke in upon my musings, but I held up my hand to stop him. + +“Nay, cousin,” I cried, “’twould be what is called ‘a labour of love’ +surely. I was but thinking how little fit I am to be the chronicler of +those exciting times. I will not be so mock-modest as to pretend to +consider myself unfit in the matter of appreciating your dear mother’s +character and conduct, for few had the opportunities to know and esteem +her that I had. But I am truly no historian, and the tale will be +written from my own point of view, which needs must be a narrow one. +I have, I believe, upstairs hidden away in the corner of some ancient +chest, a diary of that same year writ in a girlish hand. By help of +this, and by reading, since you permit it, these sacred letters, I +promise you I will do my best endeavour to give you a true and full +account of the events that took place in your home, and among your +family, when you were an innocent small boy of four or five years old. +But consider a little how long a time has passed. My youth with all its +fears and follies, its joys and sorrows, is far away. I have wandered +back and forth upon the earth, knowing many changes and living in +distant lands, for a wife, as you know, must ever be ready to follow +her husband; and if now in the evening of my life I can sit placidly +at this sunny window looking out upon the Severn Sea, and know that my +dear and kind spouse is no further away than in the next room, or in +the garden, or at the home-farm, I thank God very humbly in my heart, +Who has brought me to this peaceful place by a way that I knew not, +and little expected to find. Dear Henry, I am but a garrulous old +woman, and what I want to say is, that if my memory of those distant +days is grown a little dim, and certain things are gone from my mind +never to return, I must pray you to forgive me, and put it down, not to +foolishness, but to old age.” + +Whereupon Sir Henry rallied me upon my fears, and laughed at me for +calling myself old, who am scarce more than a dozen years his senior, +and kissing my hand in the gallant way he has, he left me sitting by +the window with these old letters in my lap. + +And suddenly, after a long silence, a single mavis burst into song, +and trilled and throbbed so exquisite a melody that I held my breath +to listen. For there were many years of my life in which I did not +hear that lovely music, and now a mavis never sings in the long sweet +twilight but my thoughts fly out to my lost dear, Catherine, Lady +Erskine (for a reason that I hope to tell you by-and-bye), and it +seemed strange that when my mind was so full of her, the bird that I +always think of as hers should start to make music beside me. But I +have often noticed in my changeful life, the little happenings that +link our minds with the past and the future, with facts on earth and +aspirations in Heaven, with human hopes and divine longings, so that +the scent of a flower, or a child’s laugh, or a glorious sunset, or a +sudden happiness, may lift our hearts, before we know it, right into +the presence of God. + +All letters it seems to me must in a greater or less degree be the +exponents of the writer’s mind. Of some, indeed, we might say that they +mirror very clearly the character and disposition of their authors, +and more especially when exchanged between two close and loving +friends without fear of outside criticism, or any thought of possible +publicity. Most truly is this the case in the letters before me. So +intimate and natural they are that I almost shrink from exposing them +to the eyes of strangers, however kind and sympathetic these may be; +and yet they can but excite the warmest affection and admiration in all +minds, being the outpourings of a loyal, loving and courageous heart. +They were written in haste oftentimes, in doubt and fear and terrible +anxiety, but not once does the brave spirit falter nor the love in them +grow cold or dim. + +Now it is true that, as I said to Sir Henry, my view of those far-off +events of my girlhood, besides having grown somewhat dim, must be but +a narrow one, for I lived as it were in the midst of the story, and +could not know at the time many facts and results that were afterwards +made plain to all. To such as may care to read my simple narrative, +which, if plain and unstudied, is yet true and I think not wanting in +interest, I must say at once that my sole reason in undertaking the +task is my desire to make more widely known among her descendants, +namely, my dear God-daughter, Barbara; her niece, Christian, poor +Charles’s little girl, and Sir Henry, who will I hope marry and have +a family of his own, as well as to my own dear daughter and her +children--the character of the sweet and noble woman who was the friend +of my youth. + +I therefore make no apology for leaving to the writers of history many +details of that unhappy time; only so far as it touched upon the lives +and happiness of those I loved does it concern me. And so, with no more +than a humble regret that my skill is not more worthy of my theme, I +take up my pen to begin this story of the so-called Rebellion in the +year seventeen hundred and fifteen. + + + + +CHAPTER I + +SHOWS HOW BARBARA STEWART LEFT SCHOOL + + +’Twas in the early hours of a dark December morning in the year 1714 +that I was awakened suddenly by the cautious opening of the chamber +door, and saw with blinking eyes the bare room where I slept with three +of my school companions. The wavering flicker of a candle carried by +a cautious hand showed me the night-capped heads upon their pillows, +the bare walls, the uncarpeted floor, the staring, black, uncurtained +window, and, the sight arousing no interest in my mind, I closed my +eyes against the intruding light. Little Miss Gordon, the youngest girl +in the school, who slept in the bed with me, raised a protesting arm +across her face, and called out in accents sleepy and petulant, “Oh, +Betsy, take that horrid light away. ’Tis not morning yet, I am but just +fallen asleep!” + +Now it has always been my custom to awake up instantly with all my +senses on the alert. I say it not to boast, though the faculty hath +served me well once or twice in my life, for some are born so, just +as others are drowsy-heads from the cradle to the grave; but this +being my habit, I had seen with the first opening of my eyes that +it was not Betsy, the maid, who had entered our room, but no less a +personage than Mistress Marget Lindsay, the younger of the two sisters +who kept a boarding-school for young ladies in Paterson’s Court, off +the Lawnmarket in Edinburgh. Now, Mistress Marget, besides being the +younger of our school-mistresses, was the one least feared by their +pupils; I had almost said the best loved, but in those days (I know not +if it be so still), anything so gentle as love scarce entered into the +training of young ladies at school. That she had a kind heart, however, +I have been sure ever since that dark, winter morn, as, shading the +candle with her hand, she came quickly to my bed-side and bent down to +discover if I were still asleep. + +“Miss Stewart, my dear--Barbara. Are you awake?” she cried softly. + +I sat up in bed and untied my cap-strings, the better to hear what she +had to say. + +“I am awake, madam; what is it you want of me? Sure, ’tis not time yet +for me to be at my exercises!” said I, a little alarmed at the gravity +of her face. + +She shook her head and sat down beside me on the bed. + +“No, no, child; do not be alarmed! And yet I fear I have news that will +disquiet you. A man-servant has come from Rosyth to take you home. You +must rise at once and attire yourself for the journey.” + +“A man-servant?” I repeated, obediently putting one foot out of bed. +“Old Robert, belike. Oh, Mistress Marget!” I cried, stopping suddenly, +“pray tell me at once what is wrong.” + +With the truest kindness the good woman did not attempt to turn my +thoughts aside from their fear. She answered immediately and without +circumlocution. + +“Your grandfather, Miss Stewart, has met with an accident, and ’tis +feared he cannot live. He would see you, dear bairn, before he dies.” + +There may be some who think this stern announcement to a young maid +of sixteen somewhat wanting in tenderness and compassion. They may +consider that to hint at a possible calamity, mentioning a severe +illness or the like, but holding out hopes of a speedy recovery, would +have been the kinder way. If so, I cannot agree with them. The progress +of “preparing the mind” of any poor creature to receive a blow hath +always seemed to me both cruel and useless. In many cases, the more +sudden the shock, the more strongly is the mind braced to bear it for +the moment; and so it was in my own case. I leapt from my bed and began +hurriedly to put on my clothes. + +“My grandpapa dying, and asking for me? Oh, Mistress Marget, I must +hasten; I pray you, assist me with this lace. Will you not kindly tie +these strings? Hath Robert brought the carriage? Ah no! the snow is +too deep. I am to ride pillion? Yes, I must wear my thickest shawl and +hood. Oh, do not hinder me, dear madam, I must be going now; I cannot +keep Robert waiting another moment.” + +“My dear Miss Stewart,” said my mistress, quietly detaining me while +she tied a thick veil over my face, and searched for scarf and mits, +“Robert is in the kitchen being warmed and fed. The good creature was +almost lifeless from the cold. And do you think, my dear girl, that +my sister would suffer you to leave her house at this hour fasting? +There is no speed in such senseless haste as you know, and while I +admire your courage and fortitude, and the eagerness you exhibit to do +your grandfather’s behest, I must counsel you, my dear, to remember +that patience is one of the highest virtues a woman can possess, and +self-control is another.” + +Tears rose in my eyes, not so much at the rebuke as in rebellion +against it; for Barbara Stewart was ever hot and hasty in those young +days, and indeed hath scarce yet learned to exercise the virtues +extolled by good Mistress Marget in all the years that she hath lived. +But chafe as I would at the delay, I was forced to go into the parlour, +where the elder sister Lindsay, hastily attired, and with a shawl over +her night-cap, waited for me in the candle-light with hot chocolate and +buttered oatcake. + +I think the strangeness of that morning scene, and the unwonted +consideration with which I was treated, took my mind a little from the +gravity of the situation. I know that it was not till I was mounted +behind Robert, and clinging to the broad belt he wore as we paced along +the stony street, that it entered into my head to ask him for news of +my poor grandpapa. It was then that I heard how, in riding not many +days before, his horse had slipped upon a piece of ice, and had thrown +the poor gentleman with such violence that an old wound, got near +twenty years before at the siege of Namur, had opened, and inflammation +having set in, the doctor now gave little hope of his recovery. + +“I’m thinkin’, mem, the Colonel’s juist waitin’ tae bid ye gude-bye,” +said honest Robert very sadly. + +The news made me grave and sober enough--sorrowful, too, and fearful, +for my good grandpapa had been indulgent beyond the common, and, +besides him, I knew of no other relative that I possessed in the world. +My father, his only son, had been one of Webb’s most gallant officers, +and had married in Flanders, after the Peace of Ryswick, Mademoiselle +Jeanne de St. Pierre, the orphan niece of the French admiral of that +name; for, as you know, love and peace grew and flourished between +private individuals of the rival nations even while their countries +were at daggers drawn. My mother, besides possessing wit and beauty, +had a small fortune of her own, and she and my dear father lived very +happily together, sometimes in Brussels, in Paris, or in London. But +he, dying of fever, induced by wounds which he received at the taking +of Liège in 1702, left his young widow and little daughter to the care +of Colonel Stewart of Rosyth House in the county of Fife. My mother, +fragile and broken-hearted, survived his death little more than a year. +Thus, before I had reached my sixth birthday, was I bereft of both my +parents. + +Brought up with care and kindness in my grandpapa’s commodious house on +the shore of the Forth, I had been sent at the age of thirteen to the +Seminary for Young Ladies of Good Family, kept by the sisters Lindsay, +and had just completed my third year in that select and fashionable +school. + +Such in brief was the story of my life down to that dismal winter +morning which found me riding behind Robert Guthrie, my grandfather’s +old servant, along the bare road that leads from Edinburgh to the +Queen’s Ferry. Very bleak and cold it was, for the sun was not yet +risen, and a chill wind blew right in our faces out of the north-west. +The ground was covered with snow, and, though at another time I might +have noticed with pleasure the purity of its whiteness in contrast to +the grey sky and the black waters of the Firth (for all my life I have +had open eyes and heart to the beauties of the earth) this day my +mind was too full of anxious cares to allow me any such consolation. I +was cold and cheerless enough with the nine miles ride when we reached +the Hawse Inn, where we alighted to wait for the ferry-boat to take +us across to the coast of Fife, and the good landlady bustled out +with a cup of hot spiced claret to take the chill out of my bones, as +she said. She brought me in to the warm fireside, and with many kind +commiserating words she sought, in the fulness of her heart, to lighten +my gloom. She had heard from Robert Guthrie how Colonel Stewart lay at +the point of death, and, in her motherly way, she pitied the poor girl +who was so soon to be left alone in the world. I thanked her with what +courage I could muster, but when she saw that I could scarce restrain +the trembling of my lips, she very wisely left me to myself and busied +herself about her household tasks. + +Almost at the moment when we stepped on board the ferry-boat, the sun, +which was now some way above the horizon though wrapped in clouds, +struggled forth from the enveloping mists, and in a very short time +changed the aspect of the landscape from dismal gloom to sparkling +radiance. + +Before we were half-way across the Frith I was so far roused from my +abstraction to note this change, and whether it was that, the day being +a sort of landmark between the old life and the new, all impressions +received then upon my mind retained a peculiar distinctness, I know +not; but this I know, that though I have made the same crossing many +scores of times since, whenever I think of the passage of the Forth, I +see it as I saw it that winter morning. The noble river flowing between +its ever widening shores sparkled in the early light, reflecting on its +bosom the blue of the sky, broken here and there by little white waves +that seemed to laugh to each other as they raced out to sea. The grey +stone houses of the little town we had just left, with their red-tiled +roofs, looked picturesque, all huddled down together to the water’s +edge. Westward as I gazed, the tall thin masts of vessels moored at +Charlestown and Borrowstownness, stood up slender and distinct in the +clear air; and far away as a dream-like background the peaks of the +majestic mountains, Ben Lomond, Ben Ledi, Ben Muich Dhui, their summits +crowned with gleaming snow, towered towards the pale blue sky. Near at +hand, the fishing craft putting out from either coast, shot up their +sails to catch the freshening breeze, and over all the sea-gulls flew +restlessly, or dived into the water with wild, musical cries, their +white wings gleaming in the sunlight. + +For a moment I forgot my grief in the freshness and beauty of the +morning, and turned for a sympathetic word from my companion, but at +sight of his face I refrained. The old man was standing not far from +where I sat, one hand upon the bridle of his horse, his head drooping, +and his dim blue eyes fixed on vacancy. His kindly, weather-beaten face +was very sorrowful, and I knew that he was looking far back into the +past, when he and his beloved master had been young, for Robert had +followed my grandfather to the wars, and they had been through many +hardships and shared some triumphs together. Into my light and girlish +mind came the thought that here was a grief ten times greater than my +own, and in presence of it I felt strangely small and insignificant. +Sandy, the horse, too used to the ferry-boat to be disturbed by the +crossing, seemed to divine his old friend’s trouble in the curious way +dumb animals have, for he rubbed his soft cheek against the groom’s +shoulder with an affectionate, caressing motion. + +My heart went out to the old man in his sorrow, and when two slow tears +welled out of his eyes and rolled down his wrinkled face, I started up, +impulsive as I too often was, and ran to his side to comfort him. + +“Dinna greet, Robbie!” I cried, though softly, that the boatmen should +not hear. “Dinna greet! I canna bear to see ye. You and me’ll aye be +friends!” + +He turned and smiled at my words, and I thought the smile was sadder +than the tears. + +“Eh, my bonnie wee leddie!” he said, as if I had been still but a +bairn, “it’s Robbie has got a sair heart the day.” + + + + +CHAPTER II + +HOW BARBARA CAME TO ROSYTH FOR THE LAST TIME + + +Rosyth House stood (for alas! it stands no longer, having been burned +to the ground in the year 1727, on the very day that his present +Gracious Majesty came to the throne), on the high ground above the +Forth, about a mile and a half from the landing place at the North +Ferry. A quarter of a mile further west, the ancient castle of the same +name stands on a promontory stretching out into the sea, so near the +water that at high tide it is wholly surrounded and cut off from the +shore, except for an artificial stone causeway connecting it with the +mainland. + +My grandfather, who was a distant cousin of the Laird of Rosyth, had +got leave, upon retiring from active service, to build a house upon his +land; but the latter, having some years before I was born disposed of +his estate to a gentleman of the name of Drummond, it was understood +that Colonel Stewart had only a life-rent of the same, his heirs being +to receive a fair sum of money in lieu thereof at his death. This +arrangement, though little to his liking at the time, grieved him less +after the death of his son, my father, and although he could not feel +the loving pride in keeping up the place that a man expends upon his +own, still the cultivation of his grounds and garden had been a source +of pleasure and solace to him in the latter years of his life. The +house was comfortable and commodious, and sheltered from the winds, so +that the shrubs and trees he had taken pains to plant had well grown up +around it; and from the windows there was at all times a fair view of +the waters of the Frith with the ships passing up and down, and beyond +them the low green coast of the Lothians. + +Beautiful or plain, it was the only home I had ever known, and for +that reason very dear to me; and as we rounded the bend of the road +that skirts St. Margaret’s Hope, and the familiar landmarks came into +view, the tears rushed to my eyes and ran down my cheeks, as I thought +that in a few short days it would shelter me no more. The half-formed +fears of extreme youth are perhaps harder to endure than our later +forebodings, being intensified by the sharpness of imagination and the +uncertainty of ignorance as well. With my outward senses I took in all +the beauty of the morning: the blue sky and the dancing waves, the +sparkle of the snow so dazzling in its country purity, and the wild +glad cries of the sea-gulls never still; but my heart was cold and very +heavy, because for the first time in my life I feared the future with +the dull aching fear that I suppose only a helpless woman can ever know. + +At the door of Rosyth House, Robert dismounted stiffly and lifted me +to the ground. The noise of Sandy’s hoofs could not have been heard on +the snow-covered approach, but my feet had scarce touched the threshold +when the door was pulled quickly open and I found myself in the arms of +my kind old nurse. + +“What news, woman?” cried Robert Guthrie, hoarsely before I could +speak, for Phemie was his wife, though many years his junior, and had +been, as long as I could remember, the prop and stay of our household. +She looked at him over my shoulder, and shook her head sadly. + +“Oh, wheesht, my bairn, wheesht!” she crooned above my head, for I had +burst out crying, and she drew me into the lobby and softly shut the +door. “There, there,” she went on tenderly, “I’ll no’ stop ye; just +greet yer fill, and syne ye’ll feel a’ the better for’t.” + +As she spoke she led me into the parlour where was a bright fire +burning, very pleasant to the chilled little traveller, and a basin of +her own famous chicken-broth was steaming on the table. And very soon, +warmed, fed and comforted by the excellent creature, I felt the deadly +weight at my heart lighten, and the future, in spite of its impending +bereavement, did not appear altogether hopeless. So wonderful is the +power of human sympathy, and the touch of a warm, kindly hand upon our +own. + +Upstairs in his chamber Colonel Stewart lay dying, and thither Phemie +conducted me as soon as she considered me capable of bearing myself +with dignity and self-control. + +“Be a woman, my dear lamb, for yer gran’pa’s sake!” she whispered, as +she led me to his door. “The Colonel’s far through, his time is gey +short.” + +The room was bare and empty for the bed-chamber of the master of the +house, but the old soldier had ever treated himself with a certain +austerity bred of early days of hardship in the field; and his wife, +my grandmother, being long dead, there had been none to interfere with +his love of simple things. His bed had neither tester nor hangings, and +there was no carpet on the floor nor curtains at the window. One of the +shutters was partially closed to soften the glare from the snow, but +the winter sunshine brightened the room and showed me the face of my +grandfather on the pillow, very white and worn, and with closed eyes. +He opened them as we approached, and smiled as his glance fell on me. + +“Ah, Barbara, my child!” he cried, and my heart gave a hard throb at +the weak tones of his voice. “You have come, I am glad you are here. +’Tis a cold journey from Embro’ in the winter-time. Has the bairn had +her noon-chin?” he enquired of Phemie, for he was ever kindly and +courteous, and wondrous thoughtful about small things, unusually so +for a man, as I now know. On being assured that I was neither cold nor +hungry, he motioned me to sit by him, and signified to Phemie that he +wished to be alone with me. + +“Go you and see to the comfort of your gudeman, and tell him I thank +him for bringing the wee leddy home in time.” + +When she was gone, “My dear Barbara,” said he, “this is as unexpected +as most of the blows of Fate, but as Fate is only another name for the +Hand of God, it behoves us to bow to its dictates. I hope I know how +to die as a soldier and a Christian should, but ’tis hard to leave a +woman-bairn alone in the world.” + +The thin, tired voice with which my dear grandpapa spoke touched my +heart with sorrow even more than the words he said. I laid my hand on +his, so brown and wrinkled, and turned away my face that he might not +see my tears. + +After a pause he went on. + +“You are, my dear girl, the only child of two only children, and I +myself had neither brother nor sister. Your relatives are therefore few +and distant. There are in France some cousins of your late dear mother, +but seeing I know them not, I have no mind to send you so far seeking a +home. Dost remember thy mother, dear bairn?” + +I nodded doubtfully. + +“I have mind of her face,” I said, “and how soft and white her hands +were--much softer than my good Phemie’s, I always thought,--and I mind +the way she kissed me and held me in her arms.” + +Colonel Stewart sighed. + +“Poor bairn, you were but a babe when she died. A great loss, Barbara! +Your mother was a notable woman. But I’m wondering if you have any mind +of a friend of hers--the Honourable Catherine Sinclair, to wit, from +Dysart, that used to come a great deal about Rosyth at that time?” + +I peered far back into my childish memories, and then I smiled. + +“Was she a lady in a blue gown?” I cried, “with a string of pearls +round her neck? She was very merry and kind, and talked French with my +mother. She told me to call her Cousin Katie.” + +“Very like, very like,” said my grandfather, “though I cannot swear to +the colour of her gown. But she was a blithe, happy creature, and very +fond of your mother, Barbara.” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“It is to her that I look to befriend you, child, when I am gone. Your +father and she were cousins in the fourth degree through their mothers, +and her father, my Lord Sinclair, for old friendship’s sake, may be +willing to give you a home at the Hermitage at Dysart, for so his house +is called, until you are of an age to choose your own place of abode.” + +Here he stopped again and pointed feebly to a bottle of cordial that +stood with a glass upon the table. I hastened to pour some out and held +it to his lips, trembling inwardly lest he should faint from weakness, +or die with me alone in the room. My fears, however, were not realised, +for after a few minutes’ silence he spoke again. + +“The year after your dear mother died, Catherine Sinclair was wedded to +Sir John Erskine of Alva, a gentleman of old and noble family, greatly +respected in the country. His mother was Mistress Christian Dundas of +Arniston, a clever and pious woman who is still living. Though the +younger Lady Alva has not been here since her marriage, I have met +her at her father’s house, where she comes frequently to stay, and +have been greatly attracted by her kindliness and good sense. There +are some wild tales abroad about her husband, Sir John, but though he +is impulsive and reckless in certain directions, I take him to be as +honest and kind-hearted as he is witty and pleasant in company.” + +Again he paused to gather strength, and I watched a sunbeam that had +strayed to the wide fire-place, and seemed to play at fighting with the +flames that flickered somewhat feebly round the half-charred log. I +took no interest in sunbeam or fire at the time, and yet it all comes +back to me as if I had seen it but yesterday. + +“Your fortune, Barbara,” said my grandfather, so suddenly that I +started, “is not small. You are no penniless lass, thank God! and your +affairs are safe in the hands of my good friends and lawyers, Messrs +Carmichael & Dymock, Writers to the Signet in Embro’. Two days back I +writ a letter to my Lady Erskine at the Hermitage, where I believe her +now to be, giving her all particulars and information concerning my +affairs. Her brother-in-law, Charles Erskine, a shrewd lawyer, will +assist her in any difficulty, and I have appointed these two your +guardians until the time you shall come of age, or marry.” + +“Yes, sir,” I murmured, as the low voice ceased; and as if he had come +to an end of all that was in his mind, he turned his head aside and +fell into a light slumber. + +During the night the inflammation and fever increased, and towards +evening of the next day he died. His last look and words were for his +faithful comrade and servant. He had been lying unconscious for some +hours, or so it seemed, and we had thought that he would pass without a +sign, but suddenly he opened his eyes and fixed them on Robert Guthrie +standing at the foot of his bed. + +“It’s marching orders I’ve got, Rob,” he said, in a stronger voice than +could have been expected, “and I maun leave you behind. But you’ll +follow, my man, as soon as you’re able.” + +And Robbie, speechless with grief, brought his hand to the salute, and +standing thus motionless he watched his old master die. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +OF MY NEW GUARDIAN, AND HER KINDNESS + + +The snow was very deep and still falling on the day of my grandfather’s +funeral, and many of his friends and neighbours who would willingly +have honoured Colonel Stewart by following him to the grave, were +unable to win through the drifts to Inverkeithing. Had the roads been +more passable they would, Phemie told me, have thought little of riding +twenty, thirty, or even fifty miles to foregather at Rosyth House, +partly out of friendship for the dead man no doubt, but also because +such meetings are a means of seeing friends and hearing news in a quiet +and not over populous neighbourhood. + +For the honour of the house, our good Phemie saw to it that the board +was well-spread in the dining-room, and that roast and boiled meats +in plenty, and the best of my poor grandpapa’s cellar, were set forth +before the hungry mourners. But out of pity for the orphan girl, +whom they knew to be alone in the house, the gentlemen were wondrous +considerate, and neither sat long over their meat, nor indulged freely +in wine-drinking. The names of some of these kindly men, as retailed +to me by Phemie, are still clear in my memory. There were Mr. Moubray +of Culcarnie, or Cockairney as it is now called; Sir John Henderson of +Fordell; and the Earl of Moray from Donibristle Castle. Sir Alexander +Bruce, he that was now Earl of Kincardine, came from Broomhall; and +Sir Robert Blackwood, that not long before had purchased the estate of +Pitreavie, rode with him to show respect to the old Colonel’s memory. + +I was sitting in an upper chamber, disconsolate enough, and growing +rather weary of the murmur of voices below, when I heard what seemed +to be the bustle of an arrival at the front door. + +“Some late comer,” I was thinking, with girlish bitterness, “just in +time to join the feast,” when my door opened, and I heard a pleasant +voice say softly, “Nay, I thank you, I would see the young lady alone,” +and rising from my seat I was confronted by a lady still wrapped in her +travelling cloak, who came forward quickly, pushing back the hood from +her face. + +“My poor Barbara,” cried she, “to think that a girl should be alone on +such a day as this! I would have given twenty pound to have been with +you earlier, my bairn, but I will explain the delay by-and-bye. Didst +think thyself forsaken by all kind friends, my little Barbara, as well +ye might?” + +Then putting her hands on my shoulders, and holding me from her, she +smiled. + +“Nay! not little Barbara now, but tall Barbara, bonny Barbara, winsome +Barbara. Even with so sad a face you mind me of your mother, child, but +never, oh never, will you be as beautiful as she.” + +Without speaking I drew her to the settle by the fire. I knew very well +who she was--my lady in the blue gown, with the merry voice and the +kind smile, the “Cousin Katie” of my childhood, my new guardian, Lady +Erskine. And then she fell to talking of my loss, and praised my dear +grandpapa for a kindly and courteous gentleman, a brave and honourable +soldier, a man of wisdom and intellect, polished and mellowed by +contact with the world. I know not now all she said of him, but when +she ended, I felt that it was a proud thing to be the granddaughter of +such a man, even although he had borne no high-sounding title, nor held +any great position as the world counts greatness. + +After a thoughtful silence between us, she took my hand in hers and +smiled brightly. + +“And now for my explanation and apology, Barbara. I was indeed expected +at the Hermitage a sennight since, as Colonel Stewart had heard, but +alas! what should befall but that my youngest son should be ailing--no +serious sickness, thank God! but one of those childish bouts of heats +and chills, when the little head is heavy and the active limbs grow +weak, and the poor bairn lacks nothing but to lie in its minnie’s lap. +I fear you will blame me, Barbara; I am held by my own sisters to be a +weak and foolish mother in that I let my children see how much I love +them. Alack! I cannot hinder my love from having its way, and when a +bairn is sick, and weak, and helpless, what better place can be found +for it than its mother’s arms? + +“Ah, I see you agree with me, my dear, I have nothing to fear from your +censure. Well, my little Harry held me in Alva with his tiny hands, +though had I known the truth of what was happening here, I own I would +have tried to break away a little sooner. I arrived at Dysart only +last night, found your poor grandpapa’s letter awaiting me there, and +learned the sad news that he was to be buried to-day. All my brothers +are from home, and my lord is an old man unfit to venture out in such +a storm; otherwise, my dear, some of my family would have been present +at the funeral. But when I thought of you, poor child, alone and +friendless in your sorrow, I could not wait another day before I came +to you.” + +“Indeed, cousin,” I said, “I am most grateful and glad to see you. But +I know not how your horses had power to drag you through the drifts. +Did not the wheels stick often?” + +“I did not come on wheels, my dear, or I should never have reached you.” + +“What, did you ride then?” I cried, astonished. + +“No, no, I sat in my coach and kept as warm among my wraps as possible.” + +Then, seeing my perplexity, she added, + +“Have you never heard how in colder countries than Scotland the people +ride about in winter in sleighs, that glide over the surface of the +snow without making any deep ruts as wheels would? You must know +that my husband’s youngest brother, Dr. Robert Erskine, is private +physician to that great man, Peter, the Czar of all the Russias, +and lives with him in Moscow, the capital of his kingdom. Well, +when brother Robin writes about the sleighing and the comfort and +convenience of it, and how smoothly they rush along, Sir John, my +husband, claps his hand to his forehead and cries out, ‘Just the thing +for Scotland! we’ll try it when the first snow comes!’ Oh, Barbara!” +cried my lady with sparkling eyes, “there never was such a man as mine +for trying new inventions, they are verily the delight of his life. +So he writes to Russia for instructions as to the method, and gets a +drawing from his brother how it’s done, and then when next the snow +lies deep, off come the wheels of our lightest coach, and ’tis placed +on runners and becomes a sleigh.” + +“And now, my dear Barbara,” said my lady, after I had asked many eager +questions and received most kind replies, “now we must talk business. +How old are you, my dear?” + +“I shall be seventeen, madam, in February.” + +“Why, you are a woman grown. Too old to go back to school, eh?” + +“Oh, madame!” I cried, “if only I need not return!” + +“Ah! you have not much love for the blackboard and the ruler; or is it +the virginal and tambour-stitch that you are weary of?” + +“Nay, cousin, I love my lessons, and my dear grandpapa was, as you +know, a learned gentleman. We read many books together that Mistress +Lindsay and her sister, I am sure, never saw. He made me study French +and talk it with him all my life, that I might not forget my mother’s +tongue. The sisters Lindsay could teach me no more of that than I knew. +I like to play on the virginal and sing, and my satin-piece and sampler +were the best in the school. I can walk a minuet and sweep a curtsey +with the best, and--and--in fact, madam, I know not what more they can +teach me!” + +To this conceited speech, my lady replied with a smile and the quiet +remark, + +“You had a more fortunate up-bringing than many country maids, my +dear. Never forget what you owe to your good grandfather’s care. But +still, I think,” she continued, “though not quite for the reasons you +give, that you have been long enough at school, and now as to the +question of a home.” + +“My grandpapa thought,” I ventured timidly, “that perhaps my Lord +Sinclair, your father----” + +“Yes,” she interrupted, “he writ me of that in his letter. But the +Hermitage is not the home I should choose for you. My lord is old, and +my sisters are often away from home. You would scarce be happy at the +Hermitage, Barbara; do you think you could be happy with me?” + +“With you, madam?” I cried. + +“At Alva,” she replied. “There are the two little boys, you know, +Charles and Henry--very good-humoured children, though I, their +mother, say it. They keep us stirring I can tell you, and dear little +companions they are. Charles is not yet six years old, he is called +after his paternal grandfather; little Henry, my father’s namechild, is +just turned four. There was another, Barbara----” + +She paused, and her eyes took that deep, still look that I have seen in +the eyes of other mothers of dead children. + +“Little Jamie, my bonnie baby! God only lent him to us for a few +months, not quite a year, then He took him back again. Ah, Barbara, +to see your baby lying dead--that makes a wound in a mother’s heart +that the good God himself cannot wholly heal; indeed, I think He knows +better than to try. But let us not speak of these sad things. Do you +think you could live happy with us at Alva?” + +“Oh, very gladly indeed, madam,” I cried. “But Sir John--he has not +been asked. He knows nothing as yet of my dear grandfather’s death.” + +“My dear,” said Lady Erskine, and the light in her face made even me, +a young girl, wonder, “Sir John is my husband, and master in his own +house truly, but he is still my lover, my best friend, my kindest +companion, and no wish that I express doth he ever gainsay. Whether it +be that I never wish for anything that could displease him I know not, +but I am very sure that I have only to tell him the truth about you, +and to say that I desire you to live with us, for him to receive you at +Alva with the warmest, most fatherly of welcomes. His brother, Charles, +is, as you know, appointed your other guardian, and it is meet and +right you should share our home.” + +And so, in short, it was arranged, and more besides, for before she +left Rosyth that day, my Lady Erskine had talked with Robert and +Phemie, and prayed them in her gracious way, to accompany me to Alva +House. + +“If Robert will take charge of the stables,” she said, “he will be +doing Sir John a kindness, and find enough to occupy his time; and as +for you, my good Phemie, I ask nothing better than to install you as +head of my nursery, where you may keep an eye on my turbulent little +lads, and watch over your own young lady as well.” + +Not all of her kind intentions were carried out, however, for alas! old +Robert had contracted so grievous a chill standing bare-headed in the +snow-storm by Colonel Stewart’s grave, that a mighty inflammation of +the lungs set in, and before ten days were past the good old man was +laid at the feet of his beloved master. + +“I kent weel hoo it wad be!” said Phemie sadly, yet with a certain +pride in her tones. “Robbie was aye that set upon the maister, he just +couldna bide wantin’ him!” + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +I GO TO ALVA + + +It hath often been a matter of surprise to me, as well as of great +thankfulness, that a beneficent Providence should have cast my lot with +friends so large-hearted and generous as Sir John Erskine and his dear +lady. I might so easily have been compelled to find a home with people +of a very different type, kind and excellent no doubt, but ignorant, +narrow and obscure. It might have been my fate to live with a family +of austere manners, of rigid life, of homely interests, like so many +families at that time in Scotland, which indeed would have ill-accorded +with my own disposition, and who knows what disastrous results might +have ensued? With such people, and I have met with many in my life, +’twould have been scarce possible for me to live happily, nor, I +suppose, would they have found me to their taste any more than I them. +For looking back upon my early life and character I know that I was +but an undisciplined girl, needing firm but gentle guiding, spoiled by +indulgence no doubt, impulsive, hot-headed, and rash, inheriting from +my mother a strain of gaiety and light-heartedness calculated to lead +me into temptation, and withal impatient of control. Still to be just +to myself, I must allow that I was affectionate, honest, and fearless, +and so capable of strong attachment to one whom I admired and loved +as I did my Cousin Catherine, that any sacrifice made for her or hers +seemed easy, and her simplest word was enough to check me, so eager was +I at all times for her approbation. + +My dear husband, who knows me, I think, as no other human being ever +did, tells me sometimes that one of my chief characteristics (he is +too kind to call it a fault), is to idealise where I love. I believe +he is right; but though it lays me open now and then to his friendly +ridicule, I would not have it otherwise. It is a power (though some +regard it as a weakness), which raises the standard of life for those +who possess it. It closes their eyes to the mean side of human nature, +for except where love and admiration are possible they take little +concern; it gives wings to the hopeful heart that lift it high above +the quagmires of despair, and it opens to faithful eyes a secret window +in Heaven that lets a little of the holy light shine forth upon the +dark things of the earth. And if we seldom realise our ideals, what +then? Are we any the worse for having sought them? No more than is +the lark, who, having mounted half a mile towards the sun, sinks back +singing to his lowly nest, only to rise again to-morrow. + +I had no sooner set eyes upon Sir John Erskine, than I understood, in +a dim and girlish way, the meaning of that light which I had seen upon +his wife’s face when she spoke of him to me. There was that in his big +and burly form, as he stood at the door of his house to welcome us, +in the kindly lines of his face and the humorous gleam of his eye, +in the hearty tones of his great manly voice that had yet a thrill +of tenderness in them, that caused me to realise, as far as a young +maid may, that here was a man that no woman and very few men could +dislike. I have heard since that day, God knows, many evil things about +Sir John, not one half of which I believe. I know him to have been a +careless liver, gay, reckless and imprudent, more witty than wise, and +as wild in his speculations and inventions as any foolish gambler. I +know what misfortunes his conduct brought to his family, and I cannot +but blame him for many things that he did, and yet with it all he was +a much loved man, one whom his friends excused even while they accused +him, a man who never did a cowardly action, nor, I firmly believe, ever +spoke an unkind word--in short, a man of genius wanting ballast, but +possessing a most generous nature, and a charm of manner that won all +hearts, even those that were fain to reprove him. + +To me, Barbara Stewart, the orphan girl who had but little claim upon +him, he was kind beyond all telling, and if my lenient view of his +character be somewhat inspired by grateful remembrance, who can blame +me? + +I can see him now as he appeared to me on that late winter afternoon, +lifting his wife over the snow-sprinkled threshold into the lighted +hall, and kissing her hands with tender courtesy while she clung to his +arm for a moment, her sweet face raised to his. But before I had time +to do more than cast a glance of timid curiosity round, she turned and +drew me forward. + +“And this is Mistress Barbara Stewart,” cried Sir John, holding out his +hand in kindest greeting. “I bid you welcome to Alva, my dear young +lady, and trust you will find with us a happy home. Our family and +yours have intermarried more than once in by-gone years, so I beg of +you to look upon me now and always as your loving kinsman and faithful +servant.” + +With that he made me a very low bow, which I answered with a deep but +modest curtsey, trying in faltering, girlish words to express my thanks +for his goodness. But the strangeness of my surroundings and perhaps +the fatigues of the long, cold journey well-nigh overcame my composure, +and I cast my eyelids down to hide the rising tears. My lady came to +my rescue, and taking my hand in hers, began to lead me towards the +staircase. + +“Poor Barbara,” said she, “is quite exhausted; her very lips are stiff +with cold. She will answer your courteous speeches better, my life, +when she hath drunk a cup of hot wine, and sat awhile beside the fire; +and here are our little lads waiting to kiss her hand.” + +Looking up, I saw descending slowly towards us two of the bonniest boys +it had ever been my lot to meet. The elder, whose fair face was lighted +up with eager excitement, looked ready to fly to his mother’s arms, had +it not been that his steps were hampered by the less active movements +of his younger brother whose hand he carefully held. Golden-haired +and blue-eyed, with strong and sturdy limbs, little Charles appeared +to me a child to rejoice the hearts of parents and friends alike; but +charming as he was, it was to the pretty baby, Hal, that my whole +heart went out upon our first meeting. He looked at me from a pair of +eyes so large and dark that I named him “Harold Beaux-yeux” on the +spot, and after a moment’s grave contemplation of me, his little face +broke into a winning and bewitching smile, and he suffered me, stranger +as I was, to take him in my arms, with the most gracious air of dignity +in the world. + +You may judge if Barbara did not speedily forget her loneliness and +fatigue as she pressed the lovely child to her heart, and how soon the +happy prattle of both the little lads gave her the blessed sense of +feeling perfectly at home. + +Limited as my experience was, I very quickly discovered that the +manner of living at Alva House was greatly in advance of the general +rule in Scotland at that time. Not only was the restless genius of Sir +John continually engaged in schemes for beautifying and embellishing +his estate, but the appointments inside the house showed culture and +refinement which could only have been acquired by contact with the +world beyond our narrow borders. The walls of the public rooms were +set in panels and hung with pictures, there were carpets and rugs upon +the floors--a luxury by no means common even in the houses of the +rich--curtains of foreign tapestry hung over the doorways and before +the windows, and silken cushions and pieces of rich embroidery added +beauty to the furnishings. My lady drank her tea at “the four hours” +out of dainty chinay cups brought from overseas, and the house was full +of beautiful and curious objects fetched home by Sir John and others +from Paris, Holland and London, or things of stranger, wider interest +sent by Doctor Robin Erskine from his far-off home in Moscow. + +The winter months went swiftly, and, when in the middle of February +the snow had left the ground, Sir John was constantly employed with +his men at the work so dear to his heart, namely: making walks and +terraces about the house, improving the garden, and laying out the +policies to the best advantage. Having gathered some small interest in +such matters from my dear grandfather, I was ever ready to accompany +my kind host in his tours of inspection, especially as my lady, having +contracted a cold in the latter end of January which still confined her +to the house, was unable to be his companion, a source of grief at all +times to her whose happiest moments were those spent by her husband’s +side. + +“Go you with him, Barbara!” she would cry with a smile. “Oh, go, and +listen to his talk, but don’t forget the lonely and jealous wife who +would fain be taking your place!” + +To say truth, Sir John proved himself an entertaining comrade, and +since he was pleased to remark that I had an intelligence for outdoor +matters beyond my years, he would discourse to me about his plans and +schemes for hours together. + +“You must understand, Barbara,” he said one day, “that although I have +little liking for the English or their manners, and, so far as seeking +good company goes, would infinitely rather take ship and sail to +France than step into my coach and be carried to London, yet I cannot +but allow that in matters of agriculture and husbandry, in farming, +forestry, and all country lore, our southern neighbours are many years +ahead of us.” + +“Will you please to tell me about England, Sir John,” I said, partly +from genuine interest in his talk, and partly, I doubt not, with +unconscious feminine guile because I saw that it pleased him to have a +listener. + +“Since 1707,” he went on, “the year, as you are aware, of the political +union of the two countries, a union which has scarce yet proved very +happy for Scotland, but which I have strong hopes may yet be the making +of her commercial fortune, and aid greatly in the general amelioration +of her people--well, since the Union, I and many others, as members of +Parliament have been obliged to ride yearly to London; and passing as +I do, so many of the seats of the nobility and gentry, I was at first +struck with amazement, then with shame, and finally with envy that +gave birth to emulation, to think that within a few hundred miles of +these, our land--with far greater natural beauty to boast of--should be +left so wild, so bare, so uncultivated. My kinsman and neighbour, the +Earl of Mar, has indeed shown a noble example at his house at Alloa, +and it will give my lady pleasure to take you there one day to see his +gardens. They are laid out in the Dutch taste, and are modelled on +those at Hampton Court, which, as you know, was the favourite residence +of King William. My lord gives constant employment to something like +a dozen men under a master-gardener, and he has of late years planted +a large number of forest-trees. But though his zeal for this sort of +work is great, and his taste remarkable, he cannot be persuaded to take +so much interest in the enclosing of pastures, or the dressing and +enriching of his fields, as I could wish.” + +“Is the cultivation in England finer than ours?” I asked. + +“Oh, beyond all comparison!” quoth Sir John. “It would astonish you, my +dear Barbara, to see upon a June day, the rich waving foliage of trees +that stretch for miles along the smooth and pleasant highways, the +well-tilled fields divided by blossoming hedges, the comfortable inns, +the neat cottages with their little gardens well filled with flowers +and fruit. One receives an impression of peace, comfort and prosperity +which is very pleasing, and as I said before, it seems strange to think +that the two countries lie close to each other, and that their climates +are not so very different. It irks me the more,” he went on, “in that +Scotsmen themselves are acknowledged by all foreigners to be more +learned, wise and polite than the English, and where many an English +country squire would be barbarous, ignorant and rude, a Scotsman of the +same station displays all the accomplishments of a well-bred gentleman. +Yet in matters of such importance as those I have mentioned our country +is not to be compared with theirs.” + +“Pray, Sir John,” cried I, “are not the farmers very grateful to you +for instructing them in more civilised methods?” + +He laughed, a great merry laugh. “Indeed, my dear, they are not. +They would fain dig up my trees and burn my hedges, as hath been done +already on some estates, only I believe the love they bear to my lady +holds them back. They grumble monstrously at ‘Sir John’s new-fangled +ways,’ and say that the trees do but eat the good out of the land, and +the hedges harbour birds that devour their grain. For some winters back +I have fed my beasts on clover-grass, red clover made into hay, which +the creatures relish and fatten on; but my tenants call it English +weeds, and prefer their old method of crushed whin and dried bracken +for winter fodder. Great and powerful is the old devil, Ignorance, +Barbara, and most devoutly do some folk cling to his feet and worship +him.” + +“And what, Sir John, will enlighten them?” said I. + +“Nothing but intercourse with the outside world, which, by degrees, +will become easier and more general. Only by seeing others living in +better condition than himself will the Scots peasant be moved to try to +improve his own lot.” + +“I am glad you are planting trees,” cried I. “They are lovely and +lovable, and their shelter and shade are most pleasant.” + +“Ay,” said Sir John, “but all do not think alike on this subject, for +one of my tenants said to me but yesterday, ‘If the Lord had ettled tae +hae trees in the carse, Sir John, wad He no’ hae planted them there +Himsel’?’ And when I made answer that, as the Lord had not caused us +to be born with houses on our backs like the snail, doubtless He meant +us to dwell upon the bare hillside, the good old man looked at me +sorrowfully, and humbly begged my honour not to blaspheme. Now, what,” +said Sir John, with a shrug of his shoulders, “can you make of a mind +like that, Barbara?” + + + + +CHAPTER V + +I HEAR OF THE SILVER GLEN FOR THE FIRST TIME + + +I can bring to mind one morning when my lady, having recovered from +her indisposition, called me to her and proposed that we should walk +through the grounds and see what had been done about the place. The +little boys, tired of the nursery in which they had been prisoners +during a week of rain, came running and shouting by our side. The +sunshine made the fresh world golden; the sky was blue and cloudless, +and the wide carse seemed to be a cup filled with opal-tinted air, +rimmed by the distant hills. The blackbird and the mavis led the +concert with their love-songs, and frequently we stopped to listen +to their notes. In the garden walks near the house the deep yellow +crocuses opened their hearts to the sun, and the green spikes of the +hyacinths pushed through the brown earth, giving promise of beauty and +fragrance to come. + +“The spring is a lovesome time,” quoth my lady, smiling happily on +flowers and birds and children. “When the earth renews herself after +her winter torpor I want to live for ever. I feel that every year we +ought to have the power like her to grow young and fresh again; but, +alas!” she sighed, “this is not so. We fade like the leaves and drop +off and are forgotten. Others arise in our place, but we ourselves +return again never.” + +“You will live for fifty happy years, at least, cousin,” I cried, “and +will come again in your children’s children for many generations. It is +impossible that you can ever be forgotten!” + +She smiled at me and shook her head. “You must bear with my moods, dear +bairn, for, when you know me better, you will find in me a strange +commingling of light and darkness, of gaiety and gloom. Sir John, who +by nature looks ever on the bright side of things, tells me that I +love to contemplate the clouds only. I know not how it is, but even my +happiness gives me pain, and I enjoy all pleasures so keenly that the +very enjoyment ofttimes leaves me tired and sad.” + +I mind me of her words very well, because at the time they struck me +with a great surprise. Of all the women I have seen and known my Cousin +Catherine was the one with whom I most associated the idea of constant, +gentle gaiety. The ready smile, the kindly word, with her were never +wanting, and although I have seen her angry and disturbed enough when +things went wrong and folks were stupid, or when any injustice done +came to her knowledge, these moods were but the flashing of a summer +storm that quickly passed and left the wonted serenity behind. That +all her brightness covered unknown depths of seriousness, and that the +spring of her laughter lay very near to tears, was an idea which, to my +childish mind, was well nigh incomprehensible. Looking back across the +years with wistful eyes--the years of chequered light and shade, of joy +and pain, of strife and peace that have made up my life--I, grown older +and wiser, know and understand the sweet, deep nature of my friend, as +I never could have done while I was near her. + +“I have never seen you dumpish or melancholy, madam,” I murmured, half +abashed by her words. “I took it that you were a very happy woman, +cousin.” + +She laughed merrily at that. + +“Why, so I am, Barbara, one of the happiest in Scotland. Never heed my +words, child; I was but dreaming aloud.” + +I looked into her face, relieved, (so sensitive are the young to the +influences around them), and saw there a look that spoke of happiness +indeed. The soft pink colour rose in her cheeks, and her eyes grew +brighter and softer as she gazed in front of her. Following her glance, +I caught sight of Sir John standing at the end of the long avenue, +directing his men at their work. + +“Why, there is your papa, my little sons,” she cried. “Now, see who can +reach him first to kiss his hand. If Barbara would run with little Hal, +perhaps it would be safer for the small feet.” + +At this, nothing loth, we three children (for I was little better than +a child when it came to a frolic) ran off down the broad walk with +shouts of glee, and, because of Baby Harry’s lagging steps, to which +I had to pay heed, the race was won by Master Charles, very proud and +triumphant. + +“Mama is here! mama is coming, papa!” he cried, “and she bids me kiss +your hand. Will you walk with us, if you please, Sir John, and show +Barbara the mavis’s nest we found before the rain began?” + +With a parting word to his men and a kindly smile to me, Sir John +lifted little Hal to his shoulder and walked back with us to meet my +lady. + +And here I may say that what my Lady Erskine had told me of her +method with her children was perfectly true. There were more love and +confidence between these little lads and their parents than was at all +common in most families; and yet I did not find that the conduct of the +children needed censure, nor that their characters suffered in any way. +How was it possible when their lives were made so bright that their +minds should not expand more readily than when surrounded by dread +and gloom? Was their obedience not more spontaneous, and therefore +more precious, because given through love, than when forced by fear of +punishment? And was not the frank exchange of thought with older minds +a constant advantage to their growing intelligence? And yet I know that +young Lady Alva was regarded by many as a lax and indolent mother, +seeing that she spared herself the trouble of correcting her little +sons by harsh discipline and stern reproof. + +“When my own life is filled with so much brightness, Barbara,” she +said to me one day, after a visiting neighbour had tried to bring her +to a sense of her imperfections, “how can I fail to make my children +happy too?” And she added in her sweet and pious way, “I do most truly +endeavour to lead my little ones to love their Heavenly Father through +the love their earthly parents bare to them. But there are some folk, +Barbara, who think it shame to talk of earthly love, and presumption to +think of the heavenly, and with such I have no traffic in thought or +sympathy at all.” + +Such, then, was the atmosphere in which these children were brought up, +and I must own that two more innocent, sprightly, good-humoured little +lads it would have been hard to find. + +But to return to the happy party on that sunny morning strolling in the +broad walk. While little Hal was prattling from his father’s shoulder, +my lady walking by her husband’s side, her hand locked in his, Charles +skipping and running, now before, now behind, and Barbara as gay and +careless as any, it suddenly occurred to me to make a somewhat forward +remark. + +“Pray, Sir John,” I cried, “are you not a very rich man, to be able to +give work to so many folk?” + +Looking back over my shoulder as I asked this question, I intercepted +a glance between Sir John and my lady, which appeared to me full of +mutual understanding. Instead of replying to me the gentleman said +softly to his wife, “Shall we tell her the secret of the hills, my +heart?” To which she replied in French, + +“I think she is to be trusted; but be careful of the children, my +friend, for our eldest is ever ready to pick up information, and has +not yet the discretion to withhold it from others.” + +“You must know, Barbara,” said Sir John in the same language, which he +spoke with great fluency and address, “that what you say is true. I am +indeed a wealthy man, so wealthy that all my schemes of policy for this +place, though likely to cost a fortune, will not exhaust my resources. +You have heard that I am the possessor of coal mines, which already +yield me a good sum yearly; but now I am going to tell you of something +more precious still to be found within the bowels of those dear, +beautiful hills, of which you are so great an admirer. What do you say +to silver, Mademoiselle, a vein of silver, forming a mine so rich that +it seems as if neither I nor my sons will ever come to an end of it!” + +“Silver!” I exclaimed, more astonished than I ever expected to be. +“Silver in Scotland, Sir John? Why, I never imagined such a thing +possible.” + +“Not only possible, but actually here,” rejoined the knight, “and some +day you shall be taken to see it in working. Now that the frost is like +to be out of the ground if this thaw continues, we can set in motion +the engineers and miners, who, during the winter months, are perforce +kept idle. Oh, there is no end to my dreams and imaginings about this +ore, and what may be done with it--Why do you pull so hard at my hand, +my lady?” + +“Oh, my dear Sir John,” cried she, half laughing and half vexed; “your +mine is like the milkmaid’s pail in the fable. Think of its fate, and +of the disappointment of the poor dreamer, and do not let your hopes +soar too high.” + +“Ta-ta-ta, my dear,” cried her husband, “now is not this just like you? +No sooner do I begin about the glories of our future wealth, which is +no dream, but founded on solid fact, than you tug at my hand, pull down +your pretty lip, and cry, ‘Beware!’” + +“I care not for your scorn, dear husband,” said Lady Erskine seriously. +“There is something within me stronger than I, which whispers +forebodingly whenever this mine of yours is mentioned. I know not what +it means, but if I believed these inner ghostly warnings, I should say +that your silver is fated one day to bring us all ill-luck.” + +“But how many times, my life, have your warnings come to naught? Did +you not say t’other day that you had a heavy presentiment of coming +evil which concerned our eldest son, and the only thing that happened +to him was the bruising of his fingers with the carpenter’s hammer. +And when I was well-nigh lost in a storm crossing from France, two +years since, were you not merry and gay in your father’s house, recking +nothing of your poor spouse his danger?” + +My lady laughed, but she gave a little shiver. “Do not remind me of +these horrors, I pray you. What I feel about the mine I cannot explain, +and foolish though it may be, it has yet to be proved groundless. Look +you, my dear, is it not possible for the precious metal suddenly to +give out, and to leave you with all your projects on your hands, and +nothing wherewith to meet them?” + +“Now, a truce to such gloomy forebodings!” cried Sir John gaily in +English, and calling to Charles to lead the way to the mavis’s nest, he +swung little Hal to the ground and bade him run with his brother, while +their father would do his best to catch them. + +“Will you tell me, madam,” I said, as we walked more slowly behind, +“why you bade Sir John speak French a little while back? Is the silver +mine to be kept secret?” + +“Assuredly, my dear Barbara,” cried my lady in some alarm; “I +understood you to have gathered as much from our method of talk. This, +you must know, is one of our difficulties, and it is perhaps the chief +reason why the subject lies so heavy on my mind. The affair is worked +in secret, and kept private to our family, for should the knowledge of +it slip out, there are not wanting those who could make trouble for +Sir John. By an ancient act in Scots law, all ore found in the country +must pay a heavy tax to the Crown; and as Sir John has no great mind +to enrich the coffers of the Hanoverian, either in a public or private +way, he hath hitherto managed to keep all knowledge of his mine well +within his control, and the silver it yields in his own pocket. But +alas! Barbara, a secret shared by many is no secret at all, and there +is no end to the mischief that might ensue were you to let your tongue +wag never so wisely on the matter.” + +“Believe me, dearest cousin,” I cried with some heat, “such a thing +is far indeed from my intention. I would rather be dumb for the rest +of my life than harm you or Sir John by one careless word. There is +nothing I would not do to serve you and yours, madam, who have been so +unspeakably kind to me. Pray, pray, believe me, and trust me as you +would your own heart.” + +“What a fiery creature it is!” said my lady, smiling kindly, as she +patted my flushed cheek. “Well--but all I ask of you, Barbara, is just +a little discretion.” + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +INTRODUCES SEVERAL CHARACTERS + + +“Aunt Betty returns home to-day!” cried Charles one morning, as I came +into their room to give my good Phemie greeting, “and I am to ride with +the coach to fetch her, my mama says, and to be her little escort.” + +Now I had heard much from my Lady Erskine of her favourite sister +Betty, and was looking forward with girlish eagerness mixed with +diffidence (being troubled with the fear that the engaging young +lady might not find me to her taste), to making her acquaintance. I +therefore turned quickly to the child and clapped my hands. + +“How glad I am to hear it!” I cried. “She is very bright, and gay and +pretty, is she not, your Aunt Betty?” + +The boy stared at me for a moment in surprise, and then he broke into a +laugh. + +“Why, no, Cousin Barbara,” he cried. “Aunt Betty is dull and sad, +and--but my mama does not allow me to say it--sometimes a little +ill-humoured. We must be very gentle with Aunt Betty because she is +old, but I must own to you that I do not love her very much.” + +“She gives me sugar-drops,” cried little Hal stoutly, “and for that I +love her--sometimes!” + +My perplexity grew as I looked from one bright face to the other. + +“Whither do you ride to meet her?” I asked of Charles. + +“Oh, all the way to Stirling!” he cried. “I may not be back till +bed-time. I am a big lad now, cousin; I do not need to sleep during the +day like my brother.” + +“But does not your Aunt Betty live at Dysart with my lord, your +grandpapa?” I enquired, still much in a puzzle. + +“Oh, yes!” they cried together, “the other Betty does, dear Betty, +kind Betty! She it is who is bright and gay. But great-aunt Betty +Erskine--well, you will see!” + +“She hath been spending some months,” went on Charles, “with her +brother the Colonel, who you know is Governor of the Castle of +Stirling. I love to go with him round the ramparts, and he took me once +down into the dungeons, but--” with a faint note of regret--“there were +no prisoners in them.” + +“Perhaps there will be some before very long,” I said to console him, +little dreaming how soon my careless words were to come true. + +“Well, be very careful of your great-aunt, Cha, and we must all +endeavour to make her happier when she comes.” + +My good opinion of my dear lady, already great, was much increased when +I beheld her bearing towards her husband’s aunt, for with the direct +ways of children, her sons had spoken nothing but the truth. + +Mistress Betty Erskine, who made her home for some months of the +year at Alva, was not a cheerful inmate for any house. Her age, her +infirmities, and a certain habit of looking on the worst side of +everything, rendered her querulous and gloomy; and I watched with +admiration, learning gradually to curb my own impatience and follow +the example of the house, the gentle toleration with which the poor +lady was treated. Sir John had ever a cheerful word with which to greet +her. My lady bore her complainings with quiet kindness, and the little +boys, as you have seen, were taught to behave to her with deference +and respect. And surely ’tis a beautiful thing to see this kindly +treatment of the old, for age, beyond a doubt, is a great misfortune, +and one from which there is no escape but death. Sure, no one would +choose to grow old, but would prefer to keep their youth and vigour +unimpaired; and though many (unlike poor Aunt Betty,) give us fair and +sweet examples of a cheerful old age, even towards these some patience +is required, and every sympathetic art should be used that can console +them. + +At last, however, “the other Betty” did arrive, and what a rush +of fresh gaiety entered the house with her! If my lady was the +personification of peaceful cheerfulness, her sister was the very +spirit of joyous merriment. The first made me think of a soft bright +day in June, but the other was April and July in one, with at times +a brisk touch of December. Such laughter, such kindness, such whims, +such little tempers! And how the Honourable Betty contrived to be so +charming with it all has puzzled wiser heads than Barbara’s. + +Even her own sister was sometimes astonished at her sayings and doings, +her sudden gusts of anger, her sharp words, her fits of gloom, but +before she had time to reprove her, Betty’s arms would be round her +neck, and a gay laugh or a murmur of loving words would disarm her +displeasure. Sir John watched them together, laughing at and with +his sister-in-law, for they were fast friends and boon companions, +although the knight teased her sometimes almost to the verge of tears. +Her little nephews adored her, and any servant about the place would +cheerfully have cut off a finger at her bidding. Even great-aunt +Betty smiled a wintry smile at some of her gay sallies, and forgot to +complain of the weather, or the country, or her own aches and pains, +while Betty held the table at attention. + +I remember the day she came, a breezy, sunny, laughing April afternoon, +when we were assembled in the parlour for “the four hours.” Suddenly +there was a sound of horses’ feet stamping and scraping at the +front-door, and a merry voice made itself heard above the din, calling +out for Andrew, or Peter, to come and take the nags. + +“Why, tis Betty!” cried my lady rising, the pretty colour coming to her +cheeks as it did so easily upon any excitement, and before I knew it +we were both in the front-hall, watching the dismounting of a lady in +a dark blue habit, assisted by a man in the garb of a gentleman, whose +face I could not see. Another moment, and with a rush and a whirl she +was in my lady’s arms, and saying a hundred merry, happy things in a +breath. + +“I thought you would like me to take you by surprise, sister,” she +cried, “and it was so long to wait till next week, and I longed +to be with you and to see Sir John before his departure, and the +travelling-coach lacks repairs; so as the roads are good and the +weather fine, my lord permitted me to ride horseback with, as you see, +our good friend David for escort.” + +At this she beckoned with her hand to the young gentleman who stood +on the threshold, and Sir John, coming up at that moment, he gave him +hearty greeting. + +“Welcome, friend David!” he cried, laying his hand upon the other’s +shoulder, “and so this wild girl as usual bids you drop all other +duties, and act as mounted guard in her ladyship’s journeyings. Oh, ho! +Mistress Betty, art never happy but with a train of followers all ready +to do thy bidding.” + +“Nay, Sir John,” cried Betty, pouting, but holding up her cheek for +him to kiss, “my train of followers this time is modest enough, though +to be sure David Pitcairn is, for kindness and quickness, a host in +himself, as the saying is. But when a poor girl hath only brothers who +are ever too busy to attend her, and a father, loving and tender but +infirm, must she refuse herself the comfort of a gentleman’s company +upon the road, and be content with serving-men?” + +“Indeed!” cried the young gentleman, who had meantime been paying his +respects to my lady, “Mistress Betty knows how willing all her friends +are to serve her, and Sir John is aware that no duties could possibly +stand in the way of a gracious command to attend her.” + +Now I may say here that I have seen Elizabeth Sinclair in many dresses +and in various surroundings--in the ballroom, swimming and languishing +through the minuet with infinite grace; in the garden gathering roses; +in the still room, her white arms bare and her pink fingertips daintily +busy; laughing and romping with the children, her hair ruffled, and her +breath coming quick through parted lips; at her spinning-wheel in the +twilight, silent and absorbed; and seated at the virginal, singing some +old French song, her round chin uplifted and the candle-light forming a +halo round her head; but fair and attractive as she was in all these +attitudes, I loved and admired the most to see her on horseback. Then, +indeed, she appeared at her best--slim, graceful, joyous, a thing of +life and motion swaying to every movement of the animal as though the +same will inspired them both; and it is no marvel to me now to recall +the adoring look with which young Mr. Pitcairn regarded her as he +spoke. Even then, I, a girl but just waking up to the knowledge of +life, thought ’twas writ plain in his face, how willingly he would ride +with the lovely and seductive Betty through the wide world till life +ended. + +But all this time I had been standing apart watching the newly +arrived lady, shy, silent and doubtful, longing for a word, a look of +recognition, but heavy at heart with the fear that she might find me +too young, too trivial to notice; and then my lady’s kind voice said, +“And this is Barbara.” + +Betty turned on me in her swift, light way. + +“Why, of course it is!” she cried, and her hands clasped mine, and +her merry eyes were raised to my face, for she was several inches the +shorter. + +“What a tall girl! and oh!--my dear Barbara, I swear it is not honest +to steal a Scotswoman’s complexion of clear white and red, and add to +it a foreigner’s charms of liquid dark eyes and hair nearly black.” +Then pulling my face down, she whispered roguishly, “Dost know that +thou art lovely, child, and I am almost jealous of thee?” + +So saying, she turned and followed her sister into the parlour, leaving +me tingling with delight and confusion at hearing for the first time +from the lips of another the thing that I had often hoped might be true. + +I think it was the next afternoon, for Mr. Pitcairn was with us, and +I know that he had been bidden to lie at Alva for a couple of nights, +that we made our excursion to the Silver Glen. + +There are, as you know, many lovely ravines in the Ochil Range, +formed by the age-long working of the burns that, rising near the +summit, tumble noisily down the sides by their self-made channels +till they reach the quiet river that bears them to the sea. These +mountain-streams were ever a delight to me, and I could sit for hours +upon a mossy stone watching the ever-changing water as it slipped +past, now lying at rest in a quiet brown pool, anon breaking over the +stones with a gurgling ripple, and then flinging itself down the steep +rocks in a foaming cascade. And as I watched I listened to the voices +that for me were never silent--three voices there were that talked, +separately and altogether--a deep roaring bass, a soft middle voice, +and a high tinkling treble; and what they said to me I cannot tell you, +but perhaps some young maid, who has sat dreaming vague dreams to the +sound of falling water, reading this may remember and understand. + +The Silver Glen lies not far from Alva House, and though small is very +beautiful; and on this April day when the young leaves of the birch +trees were fast beginning to shake themselves out of their winter +wrappings and toss their graceful beauty in the sun, when the ground +smelt sweet with new life, and the pale primrose and frail anemone were +beginning to appear in the grass, it seemed to my foolish young mind a +grievous thing that the place should be filled with busy workers, that +heaps of ore and broken rock should lie in confusion beside the burn, +and that the sound of pick and hammer should almost drown the music of +the water. + +As we began to climb the hillside, Betty had turned to her friend, +David, with an impressive gesture, and cried gaily, + +“Remember, sir, the secret of the hills must be guarded inviolate. Are +you strong enough to keep silent?” + +They were standing a little apart, and no one but myself heard his +reply. Looking deep into her eyes, he said in a low voice, + +“Betty, do you need to ask me that? You know that I am!” + +Just for one moment a shadow fell on her face, and her eyelids dropped. +Then she gave a little laugh. + +“David, you are cruel to be so serious over a trifle! What is it that I +know? Can you hold your tongue, ay, even in the torture-chamber, about +what you are going to see here? Remember the head of my dear Sir John +is not safe should you or any of us babble, for is it not high treason +to deprive the King of his revenues? Swear eternal silence, or else +turn round and march straight home.” + +“Madam,” cried Mr. Pitcairn, becoming aware, as I think, of my +presence, “I swear by the light of your own beautiful eyes never to +divulge the secret of what you are about to show me.” + +With that we laughingly continued the ascent, and joined my lady who +stood at the entrance of one of the long tunnels talking to a man whose +back was turned to us. Sir John had gone on a little further to where +some workmen were beginning to form a new opening. + +“Betty,” cried my lady on our approach, “here is James Hamilton +returned. He hath been, as I told you, in Germany on an errand for Sir +John, connected with the assaying of the ore. He is glad enough to get +back, I trow.” + +I glanced at the man who stood smiling beside her. He was tall and +had a handsome face, save that the eyes were too near together; and +although he was dressed in the rough clothes of a common workman, he +had the air and bearing of a gentleman. When he spoke his accent was +refined, and his voice had a pleasant ring. + +“Yes, indeed, madam,” he answered, bowing low in reply to Betty’s +greeting, and then to me as my lady pronounced my name. “I was not born +for wandering. Travel in foreign lands does but endear my own the more +to me.” + +“Tush, James!” cried Sir John, coming towards us, “what is this +nonsense you talk? ’Tis but to make yourself acceptable in the eyes of +the ladies, I dare swear. If Mr. Pitcairn and I were alone with you, +doubtless we should hear another tale. Far be it from me to belittle +Scotland, but there’s many a flaxen-haired Gretchen and blue-eyed Marie +fair enough to delight the heart of man betwixt Rhine and Elbe, and I’m +vastly mistaken if thou’rt the sort of fellow to go about with thine +eyes shut to the beauties of nature.” + +“I vow,” cried Mr. Hamilton, laughing in his turn, “that I never, Sir +John, in all my travels for the last two months, had the good fortune +to light on anything so fresh, so beautiful, so entrancing, as the +group before me at this moment.” + +He swept us a courteous bow which included all three, but it seemed to +me that his eye rested longest on Betty, and a little wicked jealous +pang pinched my heart. Should I ever, I wondered, be so attractive as +to draw the eyes of all men to me as seemed to be the way with Betty. +Alas! what foolish, useless thoughts we suffer to lodge in our minds +when we are young, to the exclusion often of that which is wiser, +higher and infinitely more worthy. + +“La, Mr. Hamilton,” cried Betty, “you are vastly polite. But as you +have already told us that nothing in the country pleased you, the +compliment you pay us is not so exalted as it seems.” + +Mr. Hamilton turned to my lady. + +“There is one thing, madam, with which I can never keep pace,” he said, +“travel as hard as I may, and that is Mistress Betty’s tongue!” + +“I must own ’tis a very nimble one,” said my lady, smiling. “And now, +James, I want you to show the working of the mine to Mistress Stewart, +who hath but lately come to live here. Give Mr. Hamilton your hand, my +dear, and trust yourself to his guidance.” + +It was a strange thing to me to leave the green and sunny world behind, +and to walk straight into the heart of the hill, where, in the stifling +darkness, by the dim light of lanterns, men toiled and sweated with +pick-axe and spade to wrest from the very entrails of the earth the +treasure that was enabling Sir John to beautify and improve his estate. +The passage through which we walked was narrow--I could lay a hand +upon the walls on either side, and the foot-way was rough and slippery +and precarious, so much so that I could scarce attend to what my guide +was saying, as he explained the method of finding and extracting the +silver. Here and there water oozed through the rock and dripped upon us +as we crept along, and presently we came upon a deep hole or pit, where +looking down I saw the forms of men bending to their work. So weird +and goblin-like they looked in that uncertain light that I shivered +and drew hastily back. Upon that Mr. Hamilton caught me sharply by the +arm with a quick word of warning, and glancing round I perceived with +a thrill of horror that another opening or shaft, narrower but much +deeper than the first, gaped darkly just behind me. So startled was I +at the sight, that I clung to my companion’s arm in terror, and for a +moment could neither speak nor move. Seeing this, Mr. Hamilton soothed +me in a very kind and gentle way, and turning slowly he guided my +footsteps back along the way we had come. + +“I must have your forgiveness, Mistress Barbara,” he said, “for having +startled you by so suddenly clutching at your arm. But I feared that +you might step too far the other way, and I did not, as you may +imagine, wish to see the light of the loveliest eyes in all broad +Scotland quenched in the darkness of the pit.” + +Now, had I been a few years older or more experienced, no doubt I +should have treated this speech with the haughty displeasure it +deserved, for the man was a stranger, and the young maid he addressed +was the ward of his employers; but Barbara was in those days very +young, very thoughtless and foolish, and the compliment pleased me, +little feather-head that I was, because it was the first that I had +ever received from one of the sterner sex. Here was a proof of the +admiration that I longed for, and an opportunity of showing myself _the +accomplished coquette_. The sunlight was glimmering on the dusky walls +as we approached the entrance, so I tossed my head and replied in tones +which I fondly hoped resembled those of the Honourable Betty, + +“La! Mr. Hamilton, you are monstrous kind, I am sure, to pay me such a +pretty compliment. But how can your words be true, when you know that +Mistress Betty is standing within a few yards of us?” + +“Mistress Betty!” he cried in low tones, and with a kind of soft +amazement. “You cannot possibly think, madam, that any man of taste +would glance at that charming lady while such an one as yourself was +by?” + +Now I have said that Barbara was silly, which is true; but she was not +for all that an absolute fool, and inexperienced as she was, she had +sense enough to see that this time the compliment was too gross to be +genuine. So she laughed very merrily, and begged Mr. Hamilton not to +talk any more nonsense. + +We proceeded for some way in silence, but just as we neared the full +daylight the gentleman turned and spoke quickly and gravely in my ear. + +“The truth, madam, can never be nonsense,” he said. “For my part I +would sooner have one glance from your dark eyes, and a smile from your +exquisite lips, than all the sparkle and charm of Mistress Betty’s +beauty and wit, great as these are.” + +Alas! for my fleeting discretion, how his words set my heart a-beating! +When we stepped out upon the hillside into the wind and the sunshine, +I knew that my cheeks were glowing, and my eyes shining with unwonted +light. + +“Why, Barbara,” cried my lady, “you look fey! What didst see and hear +within the hill to give thee such a colour, child?” + +I was silent in confusion, but Mr. Hamilton came to my rescue. + +“I regret to tell you, madam, that Mistress Barbara narrowly escaped +falling down the shaft, and the little incident has no doubt shaken her +nerve.” + +“How strange!” scoffed Betty, with a keen glance at me. “Now when I am +frightened, sister, I turn as white as chalk: but to be sure, Barbara’s +way is the more becoming!” + +That night after Phemie had left me--for the good creature would +always attend me to my couch as in the old days--I heard a light tap +at my chamber door, and opening it, I found Betty, in night-rail and +slippers, standing on the threshold, her fair hair demurely braided +ready for her cap. + +“I am coming in, Barbara,” she said, and walking past me into the room +she seated herself in a chair, and left me standing before her. + +“Now,” she cried, lifting a finger at me, “confess! What did that man +say to you to-day in the tunnel!” + +Utterly taken aback I could only gaze at her, and gradually the +remembrance of the words, which I had well-nigh forgotten, came back to +me, and the colour deepened in my face. + +“Mistress Betty!” I cried, “what mean you?” + +“My good child,” she exclaimed, “do not try to deceive me, for it is +useless. I know as well as if I had been by your side all the time +that James Hamilton was saying something to you, as foolish as it was +pretty, down there in the dark, and I wish to know what it was.” + +“But, madam,” I protested feebly, “I do not see why I should tell you!” + +“Hoity-toity!” cried she, “so the child has some spirit! And why not, +pray? At so early a stage in the proceedings he can hardly have said +anything you are ashamed to repeat.” + +This was attacking me upon another side, and finding it useless to +fence with her, I weakly surrendered. + +“Ashamed!” I repeated, blushing hotly. “Why no, scarcely that; but +standing here with you, Mistress Betty, the words seem to me senseless +and vain, which by his side in the darkness yet gave me a certain +pleasure.” + +“Ahem! I thought so. He praised your dark eyes, I suppose, and +delicately gave you to understand that beauty such as yours is a new +and rare thing in this country-side. Perhaps he told you that beside +you I was not worth a glance. Was that it?” + +Amazed, I could only murmur. “But how, madam, could you know?” + +Betty lay back in her chair and laughed. “How do I know? Ah, Barbara, +what an innocent you are. I know because I have been seventeen myself, +though that was some time ago now; and because men are all cut out on +one pattern, at least most of them; and because your eyes and your +blushes called it aloud to all the world; and because compliments made +to one maid are very much like compliments paid to another, and--oh, +well, because I am a woman, and know a good many things without being +told at all.” + +I stood, looking no doubt as much chagrined as I felt, till Betty had +finished speaking, then I threw myself down on a settee a little way +off, and cried petulantly. + +“But where is then the harm of a compliment, seeing they are so common? +and why should I not be innocent in such matters--a girl but just out +of school? ’Tis not quite kind of you to laugh so, Mistress Betty.” + +She was grave again at once, and answered gently. + +“Nay, child, it was wrong of me to mock, and having come to warn you, I +have but succeeded in angering you. Forgive me, Barbara. James Hamilton +is a handsome man, and a clever one; he is a scion of an old and noble +house, and ’tis no shame to him but much to his credit that he works +hard for his living. But, Barbara, I do not trust him; why, I know +not. There is something in his nature antagonistic to my own. I mock +and joke with him, but all the time my spirit is saying to his spirit, +‘Keep off, we are not friends!’ and if we lived together fifty years, +at the end of that time we should still be strangers.” + +She spoke so gravely that I could not be offended; here was no womanish +jealousy, no idle fault-finding, no carping at a laggard lover. I was +wise enough to comprehend this, and I answered with a gravity equal to +her own. + +“In what do you distrust him, madam?” + +Betty spoke more lightly. + +“Nay, that I can hardly tell you; but look you, my dear, you are young, +and fair, and a fortune. ’Twould not be detrimental to James Hamilton’s +ambitions to win a bride like yourself; but you are destined, I trust, +for better things than that. During the summer you will see a good deal +of this gentleman, and I beg of you not to let yourself be drawn into a +net, out of which you might, later, long in vain to escape.” + +Without waiting for a reply, she jumped up and made for the door, +crying, + +“Good-night! Forget not the words of wisdom, but do not allow them to +disturb your slumbers.” + +She vanished behind the closing door, and I retired to bed, not quite +so convinced of her wisdom as I ought to have been. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +I BECOME AWARE THAT SOMETHING IMPORTANT IS AFOOT + + +The days of spring fled swiftly and easily for me in my pleasant abode +although nothing happened to mark their passage with any particularity. +Less than a week after the arrival of Betty, Sir John, whose journey +had already been delayed much beyond the usual time, by the state of +the roads and the inclemency of the weather, took his departure for +London, leaving behind him as I know now, though at the time I gave but +little thought to the subject, a very lonely and disconsolate wife. + +Whatever burden that tender heart was forced to bear, it was hidden +under an aspect of calm cheerfulness, and the healthful activity which +so greatly distinguished my Lady Erskine. And indeed, I have often +wondered how Alva House and estate would have held together, had its +mistress given way to repining, or indulged herself in selfish grieving +and idle brooding over her troubles. When, after a short stay, her +sister returned to Dysart, she busied herself from morning till night +both inside the house and about the place. I have often found her +in the farm-yard before seven o’clock of a morning consulting with +Mr. Rose, the grieve, as to the buying or selling of certain cattle, +the condition of the young lambs, or the sowing of seeds in field +or garden. Anxious to follow her husband’s lead in all things, she +contrived with some trouble to keep the men at the walks which she +longed to have completed before the knight’s return, and all questions +regarding the planting of flowers or vegetables were submitted to her +for arbitration. Besides all this, there were friends and visitors to +be entertained, poor folk to be assisted, beggars to be fed; and sure +never was house so famed for hospitality to rich and poor alike, for +scarce a day passed without guests in the dining-room, or pensioners in +the kitchen. Placed so near the high-road that runs between Stirling +and Dunfermline, and night and day was thronged with passers-by, it +served as a convenient house-of-call from which none were sent empty +away; and though some might feel inclined to grumble at the vast +expenditure which this open-heartedness entailed, it never seemed to +enter the minds of Sir John and his lady that any other manner of +living was possible. + +Among the neighbours who lived within a few miles of Alva were many +friendly gentlemen who, with their ladies, appeared to enjoy nothing +better than to ride over and dine or sup with us, in order as they +said, to cheer my Lady Erskine in her loneliness; and right welcome +did she make them all, though at times I have fancied she had been +as well pleased to be left in peace and quietness with her children. +Living in the centre of a large circle of relations, her own and her +husband’s families being largely represented in that part of the +country, there was a constant coming and going among them, and as the +roads grew more fit for travelling, my lady would occasionally spend +a night or two from home with one or other of her numerous relatives. +At Stirling Castle lived her husband’s uncle, Colonel Erskine, a kind +and jovial old officer, and a vast favourite with all the younger +generation. Not far off lived her eldest sister-in-law, the widowed +Lady Ardoch, whose son, Sir Harry Stirling, was a frequent visitor at +Alva. Another sister-in-law, her namesake, Catherine, was Mrs. Patrick +Campbell of Monzie; while a third, Helen, was the wife of Mr. Haldane +of Gleneagles. My lady’s eldest sister, Grizel, was married to Mr. John +Paterson of Prestonhall, and a younger, Margaret, had lately become the +wife of Sir William Baird of Newbyth. So with her home at Dysart still +occupied by a kind father, and several brothers and sisters, you can +imagine that there was much pleasant intercourse between them in those +days. + +Sometimes we took the road to Edinburgh, where we passed a day or two +with the Dowager Lady Alva, at her house in Miln’s Square. The first +time I went was when we carried Aunt Betty there on her yearly visit. +It was then also I made the acquaintance of my guardian, Mr. Charles +Erskine, one of the kindest men and most fascinating companions it has +ever been my lot to meet. You will have come to the conclusion among +yourselves that it is next to impossible for your cousin Barbara to +have any word but of praise to say of any creature bearing the name +of Erskine, and indeed it would ill become me to regard them in any +other way. But the charm of manner, the kindliness and courtesy which +distinguished Sir John, and his brothers, Charles and Robert, though +of the last I can only speak from hearsay, were such as to have left +a lasting impression, not only on the mind of a simple girl, but upon +society in general. + +No words of mine are needed to establish the reputation of my Lord +Tinwald, happily still among us; and though circumstances have +prevented me seeing much of him since my marriage, I have heard from +time to time of his honourable career, of his many virtues, and of +the happy circle with which he is surrounded at Alva. Happy and +kind and good, he was likewise in those far-off days busy with his +work at the Bar, and rejoicing in the love of his pretty wife (his +beloved Chrissy), and their baby daughter. I remember him very well +as he appeared to me then, handsome and courtly, full of humour and +liveliness, his face beaming with kindness, his manner winning, and +his voice soft. He spoke with a slight natural lisp, which so became +him that his brother, Sir John, often declared he would not part with +it for a fortune, and of no man could it be said with more truth than +of your Uncle Charles, that he knew how to suit his discourse to his +audience; for among his colleagues in the courts, or with his little +nephews in their nursery, he found ever the right words to speak, and +the subject most congenial to his hearers. + +You will no doubt be wondering what effect the wise and kind words of +Mistress Betty Sinclair, regarding modesty and discretion, had had +upon the conduct of Barbara, and I am sorry to be obliged to tell you +that although they were not forgotten, the impression they had made +very soon slipped from her mind. Although it was but seldom she saw +Mr. Hamilton, except in the presence of my Lady Erskine, I can well +recall that even thus he was able to convey in silent and unobtrusive +manner, many hints of his admiration and respect, which inflamed her +silly vanity and set her heart a-fluttering. There is nothing on earth +so foolish as a young girl in her first encounters with the other sex, +if she be unaccustomed to flattery and somewhat inclined to frivolity. +I must honestly own that I cannot recollect any great breach of +modesty on my part towards my admirer, but there is no denying that I +practised upon him all the little feminine arts (such as soft glances +and coy blushes, sudden frowns and scornful smiles), that many women +are skilled in from their cradles. It pleased me to see him come and +go, and to hear his voice speak my name, for in some subtle way he +continued to let me know that, however much he was occupied by affairs +with my lady, mine was the presence he regarded, and mine the eyes that +his own were anxious to meet. + +Partly on account, I imagine, of this senseless attraction, and partly +because my life at Alva seemed the perfection of simple happiness, I +heard with some dismay that my lady was about to leave home for several +weeks, taking me with her to my Lord Sinclair’s house at Dysart. Just +at first I felt moved to protest against the plan and to beg her to +leave me behind, but a moment’s reflection showed me that not only +would such a course savour of great ingratitude, but that the request +would be both foolish and useless, as it was not seemly that I should +live in the house protected only by the servants. + +It gave me a certain satisfaction, however, to meet Mr. Hamilton that +same evening, as I walked in the garden with little Charles for my +companion. It was near the middle of May, and the blossom was thick +on the fruit-trees, and the flowering shrubs were gay. The air was +fragrant with scent, and a cuckoo was calling loudly from some secret +place among the trees. The sun was gone behind the hill, though it was +a long way yet from setting, and a soft light breeze blew across the +valley from the unseen river. I was chatting merrily with my little +friend, when suddenly I heard a footstep behind me and turned to find +James Hamilton close upon us. His hat was in his hand, and his eyes +were full of a pleasant deference. Charles ran back a step or two to +catch hold of his hand, and I must needs pause also, until they made up +upon me. + +“This is sad news, Mistress Barbara,” he said in answer to my smile, +“if it be true that we are to lose the light of life from Alva for a +couple of weeks or more. Tell me if it is so, and give me, I pray you, +some word of consolation.” + +“If by the light you prize so much, you mean my lady’s presence, Mr. +Hamilton, ’tis true that you are to be left in darkness for some time, +and the only consolation I can offer you is that I trust it will not be +for ever.” + +He gave me a glance of half-comic reproach. “Cruel creature!” cried he, +“’tis your pleasure to torment me. Great as is my respect and liking +for her ladyship, ’twould be hypocritical to pretend that her absence +will darken my sky. Do you not know, Mistress Barbara, who it is that I +shall long for with a great longing?” + +I looked at him from under my eyelashes, and frowned as if perplexed. + +“Sure then there is only myself left,” I said slowly. + +“And I wish that you could be left!” he cried with fervour, “seeing +that I am to remain at Alva. Well, Mistress Barbara Stewart,” he went +on, as I declined to respond to this advance, “I wonder if you will +find the Hermitage to your liking. There are gallants enough among my +Lord Sinclair’s sons to please you, and if their time is not too much +occupied with politics, they may even succeed in making you forget us +altogether.” + +“Are the family at Dysart, then, so much interested in affairs of +state?” I asked. + +Mr. Hamilton laughed. + +“Rather more than His Gracious Majesty, King George, would approve +of. But I must be careful, madam, how I talk. Your inclinations and +sympathies, no doubt, are in accord with your name.” + +“Nay, sir,” I cried, “I protest I know not what you mean. But as my +lady is waiting for little Charles we must not linger now. Farewell, +Mr. Hamilton; I daresay by the time we meet again you may have grown +more serious-minded.” + +“Farewell, madam!” he replied, with a bow. “By the time we meet again +we shall all, doubtless, have become wiser.” + +I scarce can tell you when it first dawned on my mind that, with regard +to political matters, something stirring was afoot. I had heard since +coming to Alva, some talk about the King in Lorraine and his chances of +success, from the various visitors who frequented the house, and many +a bowl of punch was brewed, from which we ladies were given a glass +to drink to the downfall of the usurper, and the establishment of the +rightful heir. I had listened in a vague way to the toasts and the +jokes, for many a gay laugh was raised among them, and I, smiling too, +had not thought it worth my while to discover if they were serious or +no. But one afternoon when my lady had driven to Stirling to visit the +wife of Sir Hugh Paterson of Bannockburn, I heard some talk that was +grave enough to set me thinking. + +Lady Jean was, as you know, sister to my lord, the Earl of Mar, and +at this time she had staying with her in the house, her nephew, +Thomas--“Lordy Erskine” as we often called him--a boy of some eleven +or twelve years old. To our little Charles he was of course a great +hero, being twice his age, and tall and strong for his years, and the +two were now at play in the garden while I sat with the ladies in +the parlour to drink a dish of tea. My lady had been enquiring after +the health of my Lady Frances, Tommie’s step-mother, and her young +daughter, a babe of a few months old, and Lady Jean was lamenting the +fact that they were not yet able to come to Alloa. + +“But indeed, my dear,” she said, “all things seem unsettled, and I am +gravely anxious about my brother and his projects. You know that his +sympathies jump with our own, and yet it seems to me he inclines to +ingratiate himself with the enemy. Were he to turn cat-in-the-pan now, +I know not how our friends could bear it.” + +I saw my Lady Erskine’s fair face flush with displeased surprise. + +“Nay, Lady Jean,” she cried, “I’ll not believe it! Such a thing is not +possible from the Earl. Why, I know that it is his dearest hope to +bring the King back from exile, and our husbands, madam, have as you +know, not hesitated to put their fingers in the pie.” + +“From which they will be lucky if they extract anything but a +scalding!” said Lady Jean with a rueful smile. “My dear creature, have +patience with me! Are you never yourself tormented with forebodings of +evil when all the rest of the world is prophesying prosperity? That is +my condition whenever I think on the subject so near our hearts, but it +is useless to speak of it. We women must nurse our fears in silence.” + +“Indeed!” cried my lady, “Barbara Stewart here will tell you how apt I +am to look on the dark side of the cloud on many occasions, but this +thing _cannot_ fail. We hear that the King of France is heart and soul +for the Cause, and Charles of Sweden likewise, and with a General like +the Duke of Berwick, and my Lord Bolingbroke for Councillor to King +James, there is no fear this time of the project coming to naught.” + +“God grant it may be so!” sighed the other. “No woman in Scotland +has the wish for the restoration of that family more at heart than +I. Were it only for the sake of the poor, good, true-hearted Queen, +who, blameless and innocent herself, has suffered so much and with +such patience, I should desire it most warmly. But restoration means +rebellion, and rebellion means war, and my woman’s heart trembles at +the very thought.” + +“I try not to think too much of that,” Lady Erskine replied gravely. +“As my father’s daughter I should be willing to give my best and +dearest for the King, but if it means my parting with my husband, Lady +Jean, or you with yours, then God help us both!” + +“Nay, nay!” cried Lady Jean, seeing the look in my dear lady’s eyes, “I +meant not so to disturb your mind. We are both brave women, I take it, +and can bear what Fate sends. But I dearly wish poor, foolish Anne had +been reconciled to her brother before she died, when, despite the Act +of Succession, I dare swear justice would have been done without our +having to fight for it.” + +But here my lady thought it wise to send me from the room, on the +pretext of finding Charles for our return home, and what further was +said upon the matter I know not. + +Now I should like to say here that ’tis prodigiously uneasy for me to +write of those days, and the events that happened, and the people that +took part in them, without permitting the influence of later knowledge +to colour my narrative. Therefore it must be forgiven me if my tale +appears to halt in some places, and to be over-particular in others. +More especially must this be the case in speaking of the characters of +the actors in this drama I am endeavouring to describe, with some of +whom I came in contact, though of many I can but speak from hearsay. + +After all, I would ask, how is it possible to know with accuracy the +inner motives of any man’s actions? To his Maker alone, I am inclined +to think, is this knowledge given. He, himself, is influenced by +many happenings, urged on consciously and unconsciously by the words +and even the thoughts of others, so that at times he regards his own +doings with surprise, now astonished at his unlooked for success, now +bitterly repenting his grievous mistakes; and if you tell me that by +setting forth such a belief I try to rob men of their responsibilities +to God and to their neighbours, I will only reply that it is possible +we may not be so responsible for the good that we do and the evil that +we commit, as we suppose. My dear grandpapa, who was a great admirer +of the works of Mr. Shakespeare (a dramatist who has, I fear, gone +somewhat out of fashion) was fond of quoting, among other of his wise +sayings, that, “There is a Destiny that shapes our ends, rough-hew them +how we will!” and to him, as also to me, this thought has oft brought +comfort. + +It is a thought that is very apt to come to my mind in considering +the character and conduct of the Earl of Mar. Saving once only, and +for a short time, I never set eyes upon this gentleman, but his name +was once as familiar in my ears as my own, and there is no man in the +world of whom I have heard so much good and so much evil spoken. The +kinsman and near neighbour of my guardian at Alva, of the same age, +and with the same tastes, John Erskine, sixth Earl of Mar, was a man +greatly beloved and trusted in his own country-side. By his opponents +he has been called treacherous and shifty, by his rivals, ambitious and +unscrupulous, and his conduct as statesman and as general has laid him +open to the bitter attacks even of those whom he might have counted as +his friends; but by his neighbours at home he was known to be affable +and obliging, kind and helpful, never withholding assistance where it +was desired in matters great or small, and doing all with so easy a +grace as made his favours the more acceptable; for he asked nothing in +return, and seemed to live only to gain the good-will and affection of +all around him. + +At Alva House, as I can bear witness, he was admired and loved for his +private, rather than for his public character. He hath long ago passed +beyond the reach of human praise or blame, dying after long exile in a +foreign land, and if his sins and mistakes were great, they brought him +neither happiness nor reward. May his ashes rest in peace! I remember +him as a kind and courteous gentleman; and his gardens at Alloa were a +sight most beautiful to behold. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +I GO TO DYSART + + +Far as I have travelled and beautiful as are the countries I have +seen, the fairest pictures that hang in the galleries of my memory are +pictures of bonnie Scotland. To me it seems that in those far-off days +of which I write the sunshine was brighter, the air more limpid, the +shadows bluer, and the trees of a softer green than any I have seen in +later years. But well my foolish heart knows ’tis but the glamour of +distance, that enhanceth all beauty, lingering round the scenes of my +youth, and the magic strength of early impressions that keeps them ever +fresh in my mind. + +And yet it would be hard to deny that the prospect seen from the coast +of Fife, looking southward, is one of the fairest of its kind in the +world. How blue and sparkling was the water of the Frith on that May +morning, as my lady and I approached the little town of Dysart; how +white the foam of joyous wavelets that broke upon the rocks! Far away +the great Bass and Berwick Law rose like twin fortresses side by side, +and against the opposite coast the white sails of ships and small +boats shone in the sunlight. Westward, where the slender masts of the +shipping rose thickest, the town of Leith was hidden in its own blue +smoke, but behind it the Lion kept watch over Edinburgh Castle, and +the Pentlands melted faintly into the soft summer sky. Our road had +followed the coast for some miles, and it had pressed heavy on my heart +to come so near to my own dear home, and yet to pass it by. My kind +cousin had known very well what was in my mind, and had laid her hand +on mine with a mute pressure of sympathy at sight of grey Rosyth, with +the ripples breaking round its feet. But the beauty of the day forbade +me to be sad, and as we reached the Hermitage, I broke out into cries +of delight and admiration which pleased my lady well. + +Mistress Betty and her youngest sister, Mary, were waiting at the door +to welcome us, and we were immediately shown into the presence of my +Lord Sinclair, whose stately demeanour impressed, while his kindness of +manner delighted me. His greeting of his daughter, Catherine, was all +that a tender father’s could be, and her joy at seeing him again was +as little restrained as if she had been still but a child. While she +settled herself beside him for such converse as was most agreeable to +them both, Betty and her sister bore me off between them, the former +full of questions that awaited no answers, the latter, who was a +delicate, gentle girl, silent and smiling and willing to be friendly. + +“We are a large family, my little Barbara,” cried the former, “and I +trust that you have plenty of spirit to face it. Fortunately it is not +here in full force at present, as Jamie is with his regiment abroad, +and Matthew still at school; Grizel and Meg, as you know, are in homes +of their own, so there remain only my eldest brother, John, Will, Harry +and little Nannie here. Still, when we are met round the family-board, +we make a goodly show; and as we are not silent people, it sometimes +requires my lord’s sternest frown to quell the tempest of noise.” + +Later in the day, I met for the first time, that strange, and to me +incomprehensible gentleman, your uncle, the Master of Sinclair. As his +not too happy life came to a close some five years ago, he leaving +no children to cherish his memory, I count myself free to make my +comments upon his character, as otherwise I could not have done. It was +difficult to believe when I looked upon this heavy, sullen-browed man, +that he was the son of my handsome and courtly host, and brother to the +sunny-faced ladies whom I loved. To me he ever appeared the one sour +fruit upon a sweet and wholesome tree; and though seeing him in the +bosom of his family, where his deference to my lord and his affection +for his sisters predisposed me in his favour, there was about him, in +his looks and in his words, such a scarce-veiled bitterness that I +wondered at times they did not check him for it. + +My dear Elizabeth, I soon discovered, had a prodigious admiration for +her brother, and took every occasion to extol or excuse him even to +me, of whom as an insignificant girl he took but little notice, leaving +me therefore the more at leisure to observe him. + +“The Master hath not been one of Fortune’s favourites, Barbara,” she +told me one afternoon, as we sat on the rocks below the house and +watched the sea-gulls wheeling about after their evening meal. “My +father, proud of his learning, for indeed he is passing clever, and a +scholar of no mean degree, was opposed to his going into the army--a +thing upon which my brother had set his heart. He set out for the +Continent with scarce any money, and many and great were the hardships +he endured. But a soldier he would be, and by degrees he won the +friendship and esteem of his Grace, the Duke of Marlborough, so that +when sorely slandered and in danger of his life, he stood his friend; +and through him also was gained the favour of the Queen, who, by +granting my brother his pardon, showed very plainly that she considered +him not in fault.” + +Now I had heard from Aunt Betty Erskine the doubtful story of the +Master’s quarrel with Captain Schaw and his brother, of the trial +by Court Martial of Captain Sinclair, of his escape out of camp +after being sentenced to death--an escape assisted, as most people +surmised, by the great duke himself--of his terrible night ride through +the forest to the sea-coast and safety, and of his arrival at the +Hermitage, where he had some difficulty in convincing his father, the +most honourable of men, of the integrity of his conduct. All this is a +matter of history, and, I thereby betray no secrets. But as the ancient +lady who recounted these things to me, had added many caustic remarks +of her own as to the bullying, quarrelsome nature of the Master, and +the probability of his having been wholly in the wrong, I found it +difficult to answer Betty with the enthusiastic agreement she seemed to +expect. + +“Do you not admire my brother, Barbara?” she cried, looking sharply at +my embarrassed face. “What have you in your mind against him, child?” +she asked hastily, as I strove to find an answer. + +“I am displeased with him to-day,” I answered, with a childish +petulance wholly feigned to cover my deceit, “because I heard him speak +of my dear Sir John as--as an intolerable fool!” + +Betty laughed and sighed a little. + +“Oh, Barbara,” she said then, “one of the strangest things in the world +is the amount of enmity that exists between those who might so easily +be friends. My brother was abroad when Catherine was married to Sir +John, and I think he resented finding him coming and going as a son +of the house, when he returned _under a cloud_ as it were. That is +the only reason I can think of in the beginning. He was also bitterly +against the Union which Sir John supported, and now when more than half +the country is anxious for its repeal, and my brother-in-law of Alva is +strong for the Restoration which should bring it about, the Master, as +you can understand, hath many a jibe ready to fling at those ‘waverers’ +as he calls them. It grieves me much that they are not better friends, +for Catherine, of course, supports her husband and is not best pleased +at my brother’s attitude.” + +“Your family is strong for the King?” I questioned, not wishing to +discuss the Master further. + +“Oh, my dear,” cried Betty, clasping her hands, “that is another matter +of dissension that hurts me to the very heart. You know that my lord +was the only man of the Scottish nation who had courage to protest +against the title of King William to the throne, and when none would +listen to him he rose and left the Assembly. The matter goes very deep +with him. For myself, I am willing to lay down my life almost for King +James, and my sisters, Grizel and Catherine, are also of my mind. Of my +brother James I cannot speak. He is Major in the Royal Scots Regiment +of Foot and is a brave and able soldier, but I pray he may never have +to use his gifts in fighting against the King. Will and Harry will +do as my father bids them, and John is already deep in preparations +among our neighbours. But many of those we know and love the best are +bitterly opposed to our schemes, and we are obliged to be very secret +regarding them.” + +“Your great-grandfather, I have heard, suffered imprisonment for King +Charles,” I said. + +“Indeed he did; being taken at the Battle of Worcester, he was kept +a prisoner for nine long years. But I rejoice to think the brave old +man lived to see the Royal House restored and to rejoice in the King’s +favour, who graciously made mention more than once of his gratitude to +my lord.” + +“Ah!” cried I, “to suffer for those we love but binds the ties of +affection closer. My dear Lady said this to me t’other day, but I +scarce understood her words. ’Tis in the blood of your family to fight +for the rightful King, and doubtless had my dear grandpapa lived I +should have known more about it than I do now.” + +“He deemed you too young, child, to discuss such matters with you, but +I know that he was one of the gentlemen, who, along with my father and +many other noblemen, signed the memorial to the King of France, brought +over to Scotland by one Captain Hooke, in the year 1707; and I have +heard him tell how often and how longingly he had scanned the Frith +from the windows of his house, hoping that early some summer morning +he should see the King’s ships with sails full-set come boldly up the +river to anchor in Leith harbour.” + +“And why came they not?” I asked, my heart beating at the tones of her +voice, and the thought of my dear grandfather’s eagerness disappointed. + +“Alas! they came indeed, but after long delay. First ’twas promised +for the month of August, and our hopes were very high, but the summer +and the autumn passed, and we had to bear our anxieties in patience +through the winter, which was hard. Letters were written by one and +another of the loyal lords and gentlemen asking the meaning of the +delay, and begging the King for God’s sake to come speedily; but little +satisfaction did they get. At last, in the Spring, the French King +ordered the expedition to sail from Dunkirk, but even then there arose +confusion and many difficulties, owing, it was said, to dissensions +between the ministers of War and Marine. The expedition was under +command of the Comte de Forbin, an Admiral of skill and discretion, and +into his careful charge the young King was delivered with all ceremony +by the King of France. But if his own story is to be believed, and he +hath spoken often with my brother of Alva on the matter, he had no +great faith in his mission, nor in the sincerity of those who pretended +to further it.” + +“What mean you by that, madam?” I asked. + +“Listen, my dear, and you shall hear. I suppose it is difficult for +you, Barbara, to understand my heat and interest in this subject, but +you have not been through it all as I was; you did not see and feel the +fears and hopes, the sickening anxieties, the impatience and despair, +and finally the wild and joyful exultation, when we heard that at last +our young King was about to land on Scottish shores. My lord was kept +supplied with the latest news by our good friend, Mr. Straton, in +Edinburgh, who still works faithfully for the Cause, and you may be +sure that, had the King landed, as was expected, close to our doors, my +father would have been one of the first to welcome him. And to think +that he actually came almost in sight of them, only to be snatched away +again by a cruel fate!” + +“I can but dimly remember,” I cried, “the French ships in the Forth, +and the firing of the guns, and how Phemie told me one morning that the +King was come to his own. But I heeded it little at the time, being +much taken up with a new puppy that Robert Guthrie had brought for me +the day before, and after that it slipped from my mind and nothing +occurred to bring it back again. I think shame now to be so ignorant +and indifferent.” + +“Nay,” said Betty, “you were but a child, and Colonel Stewart was a +discreet man. Indeed we were so much wounded and disappointed in our +hearts that we spoke but little on the subject for years.” + +“But tell me more of the expedition, I beg, and why it failed and +disappointed everybody,” said I. + +“Well, they set sail from France, in spite of stormy weather, and by +God’s good Providence they eluded the English Fleet which was cruising +about on the watch for them, and sailing before a favourable wind +they overreached their mark, for instead of making the entrance of +the Frith, they found themselves on the fourth day off the coast +of Scotland opposite to Montrose. They immediately put about and +endeavoured to enter the river, but meeting with contrary wind and +tide, they were obliged to anchor out yonder, Barbara, near the Isle of +May. In the meantime, as soon as the Fleet had been pronounced ready +to sail, the King had dispatched from France a trusty messenger in +the person of Mr. Charles Fleming, brother to the Earl of Wigton, to +prepare us for his arrival. He landed in Aberdeenshire at the house +of the Earl of Errol, who, upon receiving the King’s instructions, +instantly sent off a messenger to our good neighbour, Mr. Malcolm of +Grange, who was to have a boat and pilots ready to go on board the +first vessel that should give the signal--five shots was what had +been agreed upon--after entering the Frith. This indeed we did, but +before any use could be made of his directions, the sound of the firing +of cannon came from the South, and Sir George Byng with the English +ships of war was upon them. Admiral Forbin, with his precious charge +on board, thought only of saving him and the treasure, and with some +difficulty he escaped capture, returning to Dunkirk with the loss of +but one vessel, the _Salisbury_, which after three hours’ engagement +with the English, struck her colours.” + +“And what happened then?” cried I, eagerly. + +“Ah! then we fell into great depression. Many noblemen and gentlemen +who had mounted their horses so gaily to ride to Edinburgh to receive +the King, turned their faces sadly home again. From universal joy the +town passed to distraction. Consternation reigned in many hearts, +for none knew what the Government might do in revenge. As a matter +of fact, many of these gentlemen, my dear father among them, were +clapped into prison, and there remained for some weary months. But I +believe they felt that less than the humiliation of their Cause and the +disappointment of all their hopes, for these had risen very high, and +our hearts had been full of exultation.” + +We sat for some time watching the fair evening light settle down over +the scene. The sun was setting far away behind the Highland hills, but +the soft reflections tinged the opposite coast, and veiled the distance +in a golden mist. The sea-birds were still crying up and down in front +of us; the sound of the waves had grown fainter with the out-going tide. + +The lovely picture pleased only my outward eye to-night, for I was +thinking deeply of the tale out of the past that I had just heard +from my companion. Some tone in her voice, more earnest than her +wont, proved to me without doubt how deeply she had been stirred at +the remembrance; and I knew that this pure loyalty was in her heart’s +blood, and that her love for the exiled King would leave her only with +life. + +“But, Betty,” I ventured at last, very softly lest I should disturb her +brooding thoughts, “why did they not land the King at Montrose when +there were no English ships in pursuit? Would it not have been better +to come ashore anywhere, seeing the county was expecting them and only +too glad to welcome them? I think Mr. de Forbin was a very foolish +person.” + +Betty laughed heartily, and turned an approving glance upon me. + +“Why, little Barbara, you are asking the very questions that our +disappointed lords and gentlemen asked themselves and others, and to +which no answers have ever been given. The conclusion the wisest of +them--my father being among them--came to was this: that King Louis had +no mind at that time to allow the King to land in Scotland, but if the +attempt raised an insurrection in this country, and recalled the Duke +of Marlborough and some of his army from fighting against the French, +it would serve Louis pretty well. It did not even do that, as you have +seen; it only served to pain and humiliate some loyal and faithful +people.” + +“I fear King Louis is not a friend to trust to,” cried I, with youthful +impulsiveness. + +“Oh, do not say that now, child,” cried Betty, “lest it be an omen +of evil. It is to his help and succour we are looking at this present +moment, when we are again on the tip-toe of expectation. Ah! Barbara, +if it fails this time I think our hearts will break. None but God can +tell what countless prayers are rising from thousands of hearts in +Scotland every day, that the rightful King may be restored, and our +land be at peace, and prosper as it has never done before. But alas! +will the prayers avail us anything? We prayed earnestly enough seven +years ago, but our petitions were not answered then.” + +“Perhaps the answer is but long delayed,” cried I, “and is now close at +hand. The King is seven years older and seven years wiser; King George +cannot be called our rightful sovereign, whatever Queen Anne may have +been. Oh, indeed, the time seems more propitious now than ever, and +I hope, I hope, Betty, that I may see something of the struggle. How +excited I feel! You have filled me with enthusiasm and loyalty for King +James.” + +“Hush! child,” said Betty rising, for it was time to go home, “’tis no +matter for excitement, but very sober thoughts and much prudence are +needed. As for me, I wish the Restoration might be made without the +struggle at all. Sometimes I long to be a man, to scheme, and plan, and +fight for the Cause; but even a woman can do something that may not be +altogether despised.” + +When we had climbed the rocky path that led from the shore to the +grounds round the house, she turned and looked away across the Frith, +and kissed her hand towards the south with a pretty gesture. + +“Come quickly, my King!” she cried, softly. “Come quickly, and be wise! +There are no hearts in all the world so true as Scottish hearts, no +memories so faithful to the past, no love so tender! Come soon, my +King, and prove them!” + +And though she spoke the words with a little laugh, I saw that there +were tears in her eyes. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +WE HAVE NEWS OF THE KING’S COMING + + +It pleased me to meet again at Dysart, Mistress Betty’s grave admirer, +Mr. David Pitcairn, for that such he was I never hesitated in my mind +to believe. I found that he was the nephew and adopted son of the +worthy minister of the First Charge of Dysart (for there were then, as +now, two churches in that place), who bore the same name. The elder +Mr. Pitcairn was a man of great piety and learning, of most amiable +character and uncommonly gentle manners. (I speak of him in the past +tense, but I understand he is still living, though something over +fourscore years of age.) He had previously been chaplain in Colonel +Preston’s regiment, of which his elder brother was at one time an +officer; and the latter being killed in action and leaving behind him +a young widow and only son, the good gentleman had watched over them +with tender kindness, and upon the death of the lady, ten years later, +he made the orphan boy his own. Upon his being presented with the +living by my Lord Sinclair, his nephew being then at the University +of Edinburgh, his kind patron promised that when his education was +completed the young man should have a post with him as overseer, +or manager, of the workmen engaged in his lordship’s coal-pits and +salt-pans round Dysart. This post he had now held for over five years, +and living at the manse with his uncle, he had many opportunities of +increasing his admiration for the fair Mistress Elizabeth. By her he +was treated in a half familiar, half-cavalier manner, which aggravated +even while it checked his ardour, and watching them both with bright, +youthful eyes, I decided that love and liking were unequally armed for +defence. + +One morning we had ridden towards Kirkcaldy, Betty having ordered Mr. +Pitcairn to meet us thereabouts, and accompany us on our promenade. +Just outside the town we halted to wait for him, and turning our +horses’ heads towards the sea, she was pointing to the view of the +opposite coast. Hearing a horse’s feet on the stones behind us, she +cried over her shoulder, without looking round: “At last, David! You +did not expect to find us here before you.” + +“Faith, no indeed, Mistress Betty!” a strange voice replied, “nor did I +look for so friendly a greeting from your High Mightiness.” + +At the first word Betty had turned with a great start, and the colour +mounting to her face as I had never seen it. A very gallant and +handsome gentleman, somewhat past his first youth, sat on horseback +facing us with his hat in his hand, and a smile of very pleasant humour +in his eyes. His long brown curls hung about a face of which the +features still retained much beauty, and the voice with which he spoke +had in it the rich tones of a kind and hearty nature. My poor Betty +looked more taken aback than ever I had seen her, and she even faltered +as she answered. + +“Indeed, my lord, the address was not meant for you, as your lordship +very well knows, seeing I did not suppose you to be within four hundred +miles of me. What brings your lordship so early into Fife?” + +“Nay, Mistress Bess, why will you use this haughty tone with me?” said +the gentleman, very mildly. “You do yourself injustice, believe me, +ever to let yourself be seen in so shrewd a character. But will you not +present me to your fair companion?” he continued, turning to me with a +smile. “Mayhap she will enlighten me as to the identity of the happy +swain who bears my name, and has more than double my privileges.” + +“Mistress Barbara Stewart,” cried Betty, now a little recovered, “let +me make you acquainted with the most noble the Earl of Wemyss, our +next neighbour, the champion of the people, the upholder of all Whig +principles, and the most devoted subject of his Hanoverian Majesty, +King George.” + +The Earl acknowledged my bow with charming courtesy, but he turned to +my sarcastic companion with a laugh full of goodnature. + +“What!” said he. “Still the old grievance? Still as staunch a Jacobite +as ever--” + +But Betty interrupted him with a flash of fire in her eyes, and I did +not wonder at the admiration which was plain to be seen in his own. + +“As staunch a _loyalist_--yes!” she cried, “and ever will be, my lord. +But upon that subject we shall never agree. There is but one rightful +King, just as there is but one God, and if you say otherwise you are +deceiving yourself for the sake of your political ambitions. You can +afford to laugh and jeer to-day, but wait, my lord, only wait! Is there +not a word in the Scripture that saith, ‘Woe unto you that laugh now, +for ye shall mourn and weep!’” + +Utterly taken aback by her vehemence, I sat still on my horse gazing at +her heated face, and in much uneasiness as to how his lordship would +take her rudeness. He was looking at her gravely but very kindly, while +the naughty creature stormed and scolded like a common wife in the +fish-market. And yet that is a coarse and untrue simile; for Mistress +Betty Sinclair, even in her anger, spoke like a high-born lady, and +’twas but the fervour of her warm, true heart that made her words at +once so free and so trenchant. + +The Earl moved his horse a step or two nearer, and, still uncovered, +answered her gently. + +“If I tried to tell you how much I admire your loyal and faithful +affection to that unfortunate house, Mistress Betty, you would but tell +me I was mocking at you; and yet, believe me, no man could see and hear +you and remain unmoved. Would to God I could think as you do upon the +matter, for otherwise I fear you will never permit me to enjoy your +friendship, though you know, I think, how much I desire it. But I have +taken my stand upon the other side, and even you would not desire me to +turn traitor.” + +I admired his brave and temperate words, and already he seemed to me a +very perfect and chivalrous gentleman, but Betty tossed her head and +turned her burning face away. + +“Why do you continually torment me?” she cried petulantly. “Why are you +so sure that you are right? The day will come, and that speedily, when +you may indeed want my friendship, and that of all the King’s faithful +subjects, to put you right with His Majesty. Then, perhaps, you will +find it easy to take the other side, my lord!” + +“Ah, Betty, Betty!” he cried, “why will you talk of such folly? King +George is firm on the British throne, where the will of the people has +placed him. The Chevalier de St. George had better remain where he is, +for any attempt to dislodge the King will only prove disastrous to us +all.” + +She fired up again. + +“The Elector of Hanover hath scarce had time to settle himself very +comfortably on his stolen throne,” she answered, in a contemptuous +tone, “and King James has more chance of regaining it than some may +think. But, to be sure, my lord, ’tis not likely that you should +believe this. You take no interest in our affairs, and ’tis as well +that you should not.” + +And suddenly her own sunny smile broke through the clouds of petulance +that had transformed her, and wheeling her horse beside that of the +earl, she announced her intention of accompanying him along the road to +Wemyss. + +“As for that lazy David,” she cried, “he does not deserve that we +should wait for him!” + +Just at that moment Mr. Pitcairn joined us from a crossroad, and I +judged he had some news to tell us, so eager was the expression of his +face. He looked surprised at sight of his lordship, but greeted him +very frankly and with great respect; and so we turned and rode back the +way that we had come, Betty riding between the gentlemen, and chatting +lightly in her wonted manner. + +Whatever had been the words upon David Pitcairn’s lips when he met +us, it was plain they were not to be spoken in the present company. I +noticed that he ever tried to meet Betty’s eye, and though that in +itself was nothing out of the common, yet there was in his countenance +and manner a sort of suppressed excitement which convinced me that +something unusual was afoot. Whatever it was, it was evident he did not +desire to rouse the curiosity of my Lord Wemyss, for he conversed with +him quietly on commonplace topics, and presently fell silent to listen +to Betty’s discourse. + +As for me, although I was not discourteously left out of the +conversation, I was too busy with my own speculations about this new +actor on the scene to care whether they addressed me or no. I tried +to recollect all I had heard concerning the Earl of Wemyss, and I was +bound to confess he presented a more gallant and interesting figure +than I had expected. I knew that he was a widower for the second time, +and the father of two tall lads, as fine and promising as any in +Scotland. But hearing this, I had settled in my mind that he was old +and dull, most likely grave and sad, as would become a man who had been +twice bereft of the wife of his bosom--so ran my childish thought; yet +here he was, scarce older in appearance than David Pitcairn, as brave +and handsome a knight as the most exacting maiden could desire, riding +in the sunshine by the side of a lady who, for all her merry speeches, +had been ready enough to flout him when first he startled her by +appearing at her side. + +I stole a look at his face, and was bound to confess to myself that if +sorrow had left its traces there they did but add to the attractiveness +of his beauty. No man of heart, I knew, could have come through the +great tragedy of his lordship’s early years, and remain untouched to +sympathy and tenderness. As often as I had heard the tale of the young +Countess’s death, my heart had thrilled in pity for her husband’s agony +of suffering. You have no doubt been told ere now of how that lady, +gentle, lovely, and pious, retired to her praying-closet one evening +to engage in private devotion; of how her dress caught fire at the +candle while she was on her knees; and how, before help could reach +her, she was so terribly burned that, though she lingered in great +pain for some days, those who loved her best gave thanks aloud when +they saw her eyes close in death. To be young, beautiful, and happy, +adored by a tender husband, and the mother of two lovely babes, and +yet to be torn from a life so bright by an accident so brutal, did +it not require the fortitude of a good Christian to enable the young +Earl to retain his reason when he remembered that this was the fate of +the being he loved? Nothing, I think, but supreme faith in the Divine +wisdom and love, which can somehow turn our cruellest sorrows into +blessings, could have sustained any man under a trial so crushing. Yes, +I felt certain my Lord of Wemyss was a good man, whatever Betty might +think of his political errors, and deserved all the happiness that yet +remained to him in life. Of his second Countess, an English lady from +Northampton, I knew but little, save that, having no children of her +own, she lavished all her tenderness on her husband’s little sons, +bringing them up with such wisdom and kindness that they were regarded +with admiration and delight by all who knew them. + +These thoughts and many more passed through my mind as we rode slowly +along towards Wemyss Castle that bright May morning, but suddenly, +when we were half-way between that place and Dysart, Mistress Bess +took another whim, and pulling up abruptly, she bade his lordship +good-morning, saying that she believed her father had need of her. + +Now, luckily for himself, the Earl appeared to have an abounding sense +of humour and a vast amount of good temper to back it; for after the +first moment, when a flicker of surprise crossed his face, he answered +with placid courtesy the capricious young lady’s salute, adding, with a +twinkle in his eyes which he did not try to conceal, + +“Ah, Mistress Betty, it is not every father who is so blest in his +daughters as my Lord Sinclair.” + +Again the hot colour famed up in Betty’s cheeks, for the tone of his +lordship’s address was unmistakable; but for once she had no words to +answer him. Instead, she waved her hand as carelessly as she might, and +turning round, urged her horse to a gallop, so that Mr. Pitcairn and I +had some ado to catch her up. As soon as we were abreast, the gentleman +began in a hurried way, “Mistress Betty, I have news!” Betty turned to +him quickly. + +“David! News--of him? Are they good or bad?” + +He bent his head. “He has left Bar-le-duc, and was on his way to the +coast when the messenger left St. Malo.” + +“Where got you the news?” + +“From Mr. Malcome who crossed last night to Burntisland, he having +spent some hours in Edinburgh with Mr. Harry Straton.” + +Betty drew a long breath; she had grown quite pale. + +“God save the King!” she cried softly “Oh, David, Barbara, to think +that in a day or two he may be with us. Does it not seem too good to be +true?” + +Then, turning in her saddle and shaking her whip in the direction of +Castle Wemyss, she cried, exultingly, “So, my lord! I was talking folly +just now, was I? King George is fixed without fear of dislodgment on +the British throne; the Chevalier must stay where he is. Ah ha! we +shall see. Oh, I did not dream when we set out this morning, Barbara, +how joyfully we should return home. Let us hasten to bring the good +news to my lord and Catherine.” + +That night, as my little diary reminds me, there was a supper-party +held at the Hermitage where many of the neighbouring gentlemen (of +whom I recollect the names of three or four: Mr. Malcome of Grange, +Mr. Bethune, the Laird of Balfour, Harry Balfour of Dunbog, brother to +the Lord Burleigh, and the Laird of Orrock, a gentleman of old though +inconsiderable family, and a stanch supporter at all times of the +Master of Sinclair) met round my Lord Sinclair’s table and discussed +the news from France. The Reverend Mr. Pitcairn was there, grave and +courteous as was his wont, taking no part in the discussion, but making +his presence felt when any wise advice was needed. His nephew David +was my partner, but I cannot remember that he had time to address to +me one word, for Betty sat opposite us, and her eyes, shining like +stars, were bright enough to attract any man’s attention. The Master +of Sinclair, more urbane than I had seen him, spoke much and with an +air of authority, which, from his having seen service with the Duke +of Marlborough, was allowed to him as his right. So far as we ladies +could judge from the effect of his speeches on the other gentlemen, +he seemed to have a certain military sense and knowledge, which was +not unappreciated by them; and as for my dear Betty, she hung upon his +words with affectionate admiration and regard. + +“’Tis hoped the King himself will land in Scotland, while the Duke of +Ormond raises the West of England,” said Mr. Balfour. + +“I would rather, were it possible,” observed the Master, “that the +Duke of Berwick headed the expedition. Let him land where he will, the +young King is all unproved, and though his courage is well-known, his +military skill would not advantage us much.” + +“Whoever may lead the affair,” said my lord, gravely, “let us be ready +to receive them. The fault this time must not lie with us, and if +the rising be but sufficiently advertised, I have little fear of the +result.” + +“We mean to do our best in Fife, sir,” said his son, stoutly. + +“All Fife is ready to mount, my lord,” cried Mr. Malcome. “They do but +need the assurance that the affair is genuine to bring them flocking to +the King’s Standard.” + +“Perth likewise,” cried another, “and the Mearns and Aberdeen. As for +the Clans, save the Laird of Grant with some thousand men, and the +Laird of MacLeod, who is a young lad and not to be counted on, there +is not a chieftain in the Highlands that is not against the present +Government.” + +“All they want is a leader,” said Mr. Pitcairn, thoughtfully. “Courage, +loyalty, self-sacrifice, these are there in plenty, but all may be +useless for lack of the personal influence to weld them into the force +that makes for victory.” + +“The Duke of Berwick would do it,” broke in the Master’s voice, “and I +know not another who would. But, gentlemen, one part is clear before +us: men, horse, arms and ammunition are all wanted, and cannot be +got together at a day’s notice. Let us set about our preparations +to-morrow, more especially with regard to providing the beasts, that +whoever come among us we may have nothing to reproach ourselves withal.” + +This sentiment met with general acclamation, for the company was now +in the mood to agree to anything that was proposed, and before a later +stage was reached, which might prove a more disputatious one, my lady +thought it well that we should withdraw. + +Before we departed, however, they insisted that we fill our glasses +once more to honour the toast which Mr. Harry Balfour in a witty speech +gave us. + +“Long life and success to the King!” he ended up gaily, raising his +glass on high. “And dire confusion to all his enemies.” + +And I think I was the only one to notice how Betty drank but to the +first part of that toast. As the second clause was added she gave a +furtive glance at the speaker, and perceiving that no one regarded her, +she softly replaced her glass upon the table. + +Now all that I have written about this one day might lead you to +imagine that ’twas the beginning of great events, but alas! it is only +given as an example of the many false hopes that were raised in us, and +the many disappointments that ensued. In the words of Mistress Betty +that morning, though she little meant them to express the truth, the +news were “too good to be true.” The message was a false one; the King +had not left France, and many weeks and months were to elapse before he +landed upon Scottish shores. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +WE BECOME STILL MORE INVOLVED IN AFFAIRS + + +My Lady Erskine was by this time mighty anxious to be back at Alva, +not only for the sake of her children, from whom she could never bear +to be long parted, but also because she was in expectation soon to be +welcoming home Sir John from London. Yielding to the request of Betty, +that I should be left at Dysart still some weeks, she took her leave +of us, intending first to visit her sister; Margaret, my Lady Baird, +in her home at Newbyth, and also to pass some days with the family of +Sir Peter Wedderburn at Gosford House. I think I cannot do better than +transcribe here two of the letters which she wrote to her husband on +her return home. They are full of domestic concerns, and of but little +interest to a stranger, but they are loving and dutiful as my lady +herself ever was, and show in some degree the cheerful, diligent spirit +she commonly displayed. + +[Illustration: + + _From an Oil Painting._ + +LADY ERSKINE OF ALVA.] + + +LETTER I. + + “MY DEAREST, + + I cannot omitt writting every post tho’ I have but + little to say, except tell you thatt I begin now to be mighty + impatient to have you home. All the members of Parlyment that I know + I think is come already, and yett there is no word of your leaveing + London. Doe nott think I blame you in saying so for I make no doubt + of your coming as soon as ye can. Ye had need of a good coachman if + ye travell with four horse wanting a postilion. Your folks are busy + att the walks, butt since I came home, I find itt convenient to have + seven carts going and eighteen men, and will continue that number if + possible till itt’s ended. There is such a deepness of earth thatt + itt is no easy work. + + I told you in my last I was going to Stirling. Your uncle looks + very well. He is surprised at your stay and longs to see you. I + presst Lady Jean and Lordy Areskine to come to Alva some days, and + the Colonel, butt they seemed to be so uncertain of their setting + out for London, they could not leave Stirling. You desire to know + what the Col. says about Meg’s marriage. He told me he wisht her + all happyness, and he thought Sir Wm. had been very lucky, and he + wondered my lord did not ask better terms. Sir Wm. said to me he + was sure you wold not goe close by his door, and not come in, and + they design to intercept you at Gosford if they can. Butt if I am to + meet you at Edinr. if ye please so to order itt, I will do itt att + Gosford, but if ye can come straight to Alva, I do not incline to + stir from itt. Your sons are perfectly well and are my only comrads + now. Dearest life, adieu.” + + ALVA, _June 13_. + +In the next letter, as you will see, there is a veiled allusion to +the project on which all our thoughts were fixed, and the uncertainty +of which had already caused its partisans much uneasiness. It is +impossible now to imagine what little breath of dissension had blown +between my lady and her kind brother, Mr. Charles Erskine, but sure I +am that the words set down in some mood of passing vexation were never +meant to be preserved or remembered. How often and how eagerly my lady +turned to Mr. Erskine for help and advice in the sad days when she was +“so unhappy as to want” her husband, and how willingly and kindly he +spent himself in service for her and hers, you will see presently in +her later letters. + + +LETTER II. + + “MY DEAREST LIFE, + + I did not writ last post in hope I wold gett one + from you forbidding mee to writ, but I got one of a different nature + telling me ye was just goeing to my Lord Mar’s country house, which + made me very thoughtful some hours after; that ye seem’d to have no + guess when ye wold take your journey. I regrate your uneasyness of + being obliged to wait so long upon what it seems is very uncertain, + and I begin now to fear will hardly be worth your while. I doe now + wish you at home att anyrate. + + The black cattell is giving a great price here just now. The man that + brought your stots was here yesterday inquiring if ye was for any + this year. They held so well out att Aikenside last year he made no + doubt ye wold take more. I know not what number ye wold incline to, + so lett me know as soon as ye can. I am in uncertainty whether to buy + cows for killing, and we’ll be sure to buy them dear att the end of + the year if we want them. My being so undetermined will make things + of that kind mighty uneasy to me, butt I cannott help itt. + + Your brother Charles has now been a fortnight in Edinr., and tho’ + I writ to him to send mee your letter he wold not doe itt, nor any + reason for not doeing itt. I could hardly believe Charles wold have + been so indifferent of mee for I am sure I never gave him any reason; + but when he behaves after that manner comeing from you, I see what I + might expect if ever I were so unhappy (as) to want you, which I hope + in God will never bee. + + I am afraid all the sheep mercats will be over before I gett any + account from you whether ye are to buy or not. The sheep is dear this + year, they talk. I have sent your Gelding this day to Perth Fair, and + bid them take ten Guineys for him before they bring him home. I was + advised to doe so by people that understand horse, and had seen him + at Edinr. He never look’t so well as he does att this moment, butt + there is no help, part with him ye must, for he will never bee of use. + + I send you a letter from Gleneaglis. I am glad to hear from my + sister. She has a letter from your Brother Robin. + + I am still fighting with John Harley and Mr Rose, to keep folks at + the walks, butt I no sooner turn my back, or has anybody here I am + oblig’d to wait on, butt something is done in opposition. The narrow + walk has all the earth laid thatt itt wants, and the brode walk is + pretty well advanc’d, butt the earth that was on the walks will not + serve to make them up at the other end. Your turnip seed is come, and + I will write to Monzie and get my directions how to use it. Dearest + life, adieu. Your sons are well. Yours.” + + ALVA, _June 25_. + +As I read the clear faint writing I can see her sitting in the room at +Alva at her own scrutoire, the sweet scents and sounds of summer coming +in at the open windows, and a smile on her face while writing, as she +thinks how soon might she be seeing the knight’s stalwart form and +kindly face, and listening to the voice she loved. Alas! almost before +the summer flowers were dead my lady had ceased to smile, and for many +and many a weary month all thoughts of her husband were mingled with +anxiety, grief, and dread. + +It was about the middle of July when Sir John came home, and although +his wife received him with her wonted tender welcome, and the little +boys made his appearance the occasion of much joyful outcry, it was +evident from the first that his mind was preoccupied, and he scarce +gave his usual genial attention to home matters. For some days he was +busy and hurried in his movements, riding often from home, and when in +the house, being closeted with Mr. Peck, his secretary. The neighbours +came and went even more than before, but now it was only the men who +rode hastily to the door, spent a private hour with Sir John in his +own room, and rode away again with scarce more than a civil word to my +lady and myself. There was no merry-making when they met, no pledging +each other with jest and laughter, no toasts called for. If they took a +stirrup-cup at parting, twas drunk for the most part in silence, while +a meaning glance passed from eye to eye, that in some way stirred my +girlish heart to deep excitement. I was left much to myself and to the +children in those days, for my lady went about with a serious face, +attending on her lord, upon whom I saw her cast many a wistful look, +but refusing to answer my questions when I would have asked her what +was toward. + +At last one evening--I remember it well--we were seated at supper in +the long twilight, when the sound of a galloping steed arrested our +attention. The day had been sultry, and doors and windows stood open. +Sir John laid down the knife with which he was carving and rose to his +feet, looking across the table at his wife. My lady, with her eyes +upon his face, turned pale though she uttered no word, and I, Barbara, +forgetful of ceremony, and moved by the strange thrill that seemed to +touch us all, ran to the window and leaned out. A man upon a smoking +horse before the door was wiping his heated face with a napkin, and +Andrew Short, Sir John’s faithful attendant, had just reached his side +and was calling out for news. Too breathless to speak, the messenger +drew from his breast a packet, and rolled, rather than dismounted, from +his beast, which stood with panting sides and fore-legs outstretched, +the picture of exhaustion. A stableman ran up and led him slowly away, +and the rider, still staggering and breathing hard, came up the steps +leaning on Andrew’s arm, the papers grasped in his hand. + +“’Tis a messenger, Sir John,” I cried, for all this had passed in a few +moments. “He enters the house with Andrew; he bears a packet, doubtless +for you.” + +The knight strode from the room and met the man in the hall who, seeing +the master of the house, dropped upon one knee, and holding out the +packet, muttered in a thick, hoarse voice--“From my Lord, the Earl of +Mar, to the hands of Sir John Erskine of Alva. God save the King!” + +With this strange address delivered, ’twas evident that the poor man +felt his task was accomplished, for he incontinently fell forward in a +heap upon the floor, and lay in a kind of stupor. + +Having ascertained that the good fellow suffered from nothing but want +of sleep, he having posted from London with the utmost speed, taking +scarce any rest on the way, Sir John bade Andrew see to him, and +calling upon Mr. Peck to follow him, he went into his room and shut and +locked the door. I wrung my hands with impatience, for I would have +given a good deal at that moment to be able to see through the walls, +and as I turned I found my lady standing near. Her eyes also were fixed +upon the closed door, and were full of a strange, unhappy light that +set my heart aching. I went to her and laid my arm round her waist. + +“Dear madam!” I cried, “what is’t you fear? Will you not tell Barbara, +who longs to comfort you?” + +“Ah, little Barbara,” she answered, smiling sadly, “thou hast the will, +but not the power to ease my heart. Something tells me that this,” and +she glanced again at that baffling door, “is the beginning of sorrows, +for whether we lose or win, my dear, there will be many tears shed and +many hearts broken.” + +“Oh, cousin!” I cried eagerly, “could I but see the despatch what would +I not give! Do you not wish to be in Mr. Peck’s place, reading those +all-important papers?” + +“Nay, my dear,” she said, quietly, “you must exercise patience as I do. +The letter, whatever it contains is in cipher, and some time must pass +before Sir John can get at its meaning. Mr. Peck and he may be closeted +there till midnight, and after all, Barbara, there may be nothing that +can be told to you or me.” + +“The King was landed, madam, I feel sure of it, and my Lord Mar is +joining him at once. Oh, will he come to Alva, think you? I do so long +to see him. If he visits with the Earl at Alloa he may indeed come here +also. I wonder greatly what he is like, cousin?” I cried, + +“If you believe Sir John’s report, child, you will perhaps find the +King different from your expectations of him. I will tell you what I +have gathered. He is well favoured in face and figure, of staid and +quiet demeanour, unselfish, gentle, and reasonable, but neither affable +nor merry. That he is conscientious and kind-hearted I am convinced, +but his life has been too full of misfortune for him ever to have +accomplished his desires. He is a devoted and affectionate son, we +know, and adored his young sister, the Princess Louisa--a gay and +charming creature, whose death three years since he sorely mourned. +With good councillors to aid him he will make a wise and tolerant +Ruler, of that I have no doubt, and I pray God he be not led away by +ill advice.” + +We went into the parlour and sat down together in the dim light. The +business-room, or study, where Sir John was, being next to us, we could +hear a faint murmur of voices through the wall, and gradually all +other sounds in the house ceased. My lady went on talking of the King +in low tones, sometimes answering my questions, or telling me little +anecdotes which she had heard and fondly remembered; for her husband +being often in France, had met his Majesty more than once, besides +hearing much concerning him from those who were continually about him. +She spoke of his melancholy childhood, cast away in a foreign land; +his elderly father, the poor exiled King, resigned to his fate and in +ill-health; his mother, the Queen, devoted and patient, but perhaps not +always wise; he, himself, now snubbed and restricted, now flattered +and exalted, his hopes of restoration now raised to the highest pitch, +and again laid low in the dust. Would it be strange, she asked, if +the young man were indeterminate, timid, and depressed? For physical +courage he certainly did not lack, as she reminded me how he charged +repeatedly with his Cavalry in the battle of Malplaquet; and had it +been left to his judgment, she thought the expedition under Admiral +Forbin, in the year 1708, would not have been the failure it became. + +“I know it for a fact,” said my lady, “that his Majesty begged to be +landed in Fife, in Aberdeen, anywhere, with but one attendant, as he +would trust himself alone, he said, to the Scottish people; but he was +not listened to. And yet I firmly believe that, had he come among us +then in any guise, the country would have risen as one man, would have +crowned him at Scone, and within a week he would have been dwelling as +undisputed King in the Palace of Holyrood.” + +“That is what will happen now,” I cried eagerly. “Surely, oh surely, +madam, this time he will succeed!” + +“Alas, Barbara, who can tell? It seems to me that in our party, for +ten faithful men who have the King’s cause at heart, there are fifty +to be found who care nothing for it, whose only thought is for power, +or ease, or personal gain. They quarrel among themselves, they have +jealousies that make their tempers childish; no man can trust his +neighbour, and how can he then trust his country? If there were real +love for the much wronged Prince away there in France in each Scottish +heart, were it but the size of a grain of mustard-seed, sure that love +would bind the whole nation together, and make it so strong that we +could rise in a great army and chase the Hanoverian out of England.” + +I made no reply, but I remembered her words afterwards, and have often +considered them since, and in considering them have wondered; for many +of the best and bravest in Scotland and England have thought as my lady +did, and yet, good and true as they were and are, God has seen fit to +give them no victory, but only disaster upon disaster, bringing to +nought their loyal designs, and furthering the cause of those whom they +distrusted. + +When we had sat for perhaps ten minutes silent, scarce seeing each +other in the dusk, for it must have been close on ten of the clock, +we heard the door of the business-room open, and next moment Sir John +appeared in the room. My lady, who had started up, ran forward with a +little cry, and he caught her in his arms. + +“Tell me, my life, what news?” she cried. + +“What, sweetheart, art not in bed?” he answered. “And all alone?” for +me he did not see. Then he bent his head and whispered in her ear. She +gave an exclamation, half-amazed, half-triumphant; but a moment after I +heard a sob, and saw her lay her face upon his breast. + +So I stole away unheeded, and went to bed and to sleep with my +curiosity still unsatisfied. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +SIR JOHN PREPARES FOR ACTION, AND BARBARA HEARS MANY STRANGE THINGS + + +Whatever tears bedewed the pillow of my dear Lady Erskine that night +there was no sign of them in the morning. The household was early astir +as usual, and at once the bustle of preparation seemed to spread from +attic to cellar. Sir John was about to depart once more, and though I +scanned my lady’s face for that look of foreboding and dissatisfaction +that I expected to see, so well did she have her heart in control +that no shadow of it appeared; indeed, there was an air of alertness +about her manner of moving and speaking which took me by surprise. +Instead of the fearful wife mourning over the prospect of her coming +loneliness, there was the brave woman arming her husband, so to speak, +for the battle, and sending him from her with words of cheer and glad +prophecies of victory. + +At her request Sir John consented to make me a sharer of the news that +had arrived the night before, and drawing me into his room he closed +the door, and bidding me come close to him he said in a low voice, but +with his wonted smile, + +“’Tis of vast importance, Barbara, this that we have heard. My Lord of +Mar hath, only a few days back, got news from France; no less than a +letter from the King, in which his Majesty tells him that for the sake +of his honour he can no longer delay coming to Scotland. He will be +at Dieppe the end of the month, a sennight from now, and the Rising, +Barbara, the Rising is appointed for--nay, I will not name the exact +date to you, child, but ’tis to be early in the coming month.” + +I held my breath and clasped my hands. “And will my Lord Mar fight?” I +whispered. + +“I wouldn’t be surprised,” said the knight with a laugh, “but he may be +Commander-in-chief of the King’s army.” + +“Then you, Sir John, will be in the thick of it,” cried I. “Oh, for my +lady’s sake, be good to yourself and go not in the front of the battle, +cousin.” + +“Silly child!” he answered, and, indeed, I knew that I was silly ere +ever the words were uttered. “Who thinks of dangers at a time like +this? A man’s life is no more secure for hiding behind a hay-stack, +which might catch fire at his back, when he ought to be facing the +bullets. Depend on’t, we none of us die before our time, nor can we +preserve our lives beyond it. ’Tis best not to take account of death, +my lass, but to do our duty just where we find it.” + +The smile had left his face as he laid a kind hand on my shoulder, and +for a moment my heart was so full that I found means to relieve it by +an unuttered prayer for his safety. Then, not wishing to appear moved +before him, I said, “Is the Duke of Ormond ready, too, sir?” + +I thought his face fell. + +“Of that I can scarce speak,” he said. “My lord is somewhat uncertain +on this point; but I doubt not all will be right once they hear the +King’s Standard is raised in the north.” + +And, Mr. Peck coming at that moment to the door, Sir John dismissed +me hurriedly, though with his wonted kindness. I flew to my lady, and +finding her calm and occupied in the contemplation of her husband’s +hose, “Dear cousin,” I cried, “I know all; and now tell me what I can +do, for I am dying of eagerness to help you.” + +“Then go,” she said at once, “and see about the making up of your +mails, for Phemie is busy with the children’s things. We start for +Dysart to-morrow.” + +At my exclamation of surprise she smiled. “You must know,” she went +on, “that every year, in the month of August, I take my sons to their +Grandfather’s house for the benefit of the sea-air and bathing. To our +neighbours who are not with us our departure has, therefore, nothing +out of the common; but to you I can say a little more. Sir John +believes that the Earl of Mar will land in Fife. If he does, he will +meet him there and perhaps follow him north, and, seeing that my Lord +Sinclair is a man of some standing, and my brother in the midst of this +affair, ’twill be easier for me to get news at the Hermitage than here +at Alva. So he desires me to go there for a time and await the result +of the Earl’s arrival; and, though I love best, when deserted, to be in +my own house, Barbara, where every stone and tree speaks to me of Sir +John, still, as it is his pleasure, I am glad to go. You will see Betty +again, my dear, and that will content you also.” + +So, in little more than a month from leaving it, I found myself again +at Dysart. + +In spite of our anxiety and excitement, which, with all our will, ’twas +impossible to hide, the week that followed was a happy one. My Lady +Erskine had her husband and children with her, and as she tenderly +loved her father and sisters, she was in the midst of all that were +dearest to her. Her brother, the Master, was for once in good humour +and forebore to vex her by his sarcastic speeches to her husband. +Indeed, Sir John and he were almost on friendly terms, for the knight, +partly to please his dear lady, and partly, as I think, from a genuine +appreciation of the younger man’s gifts, deferred to him as the eldest +son of his host in a manner both courteous and kindly. It is true +that in the last few weeks the conduct of the Master had gone far to +establish his reputation for caution and diplomacy among his neighbours +in the country. You must know that an order had come from Court to the +sheriffs throughout England and Scotland that they should make search +among the gentry, how many horses they had and if there were any signs +of disaffection among them, their animals should be confiscated in the +name of King George, as well as any arms found in their possession. +I understand that the Master, with some difficulty, persuaded the +zealous magistrate that this order could not apply to Fife, where all +was quiet and orderly, but must be intended for England which was ever +in a state of disturbance. He bade them look round upon his neighbours +and judge if they had among them all enough horses to form a troop, +or indeed, any beasts fitted for war. No, he told them, nor had they +even the proper saddles and bridles for fitting out Cavalry. It would +be foolish, he warned them, to get themselves into disfavour by robbing +poor, innocent gentlemen of their only means of getting about, and as +for arms he could swear there were not two score of pistols in his +corner of Fife. + +So skilful was his address, and so easy his manner, that for a time +the good folk were persuaded to leave them in peace; but he suspected, +as he told my lord, his father, that it could not be for long. All +this Sir John Erskine knew and approved, and, indeed, he was generous +enough to forget his brother-in-law’s ill-humours, and to take into +consideration his military knowledge and real ability for management. + +But at last one night, early in the month of August, our tranquillity +came to an end; and indeed, though we knew it not then, ’twas the end +of all peace and happiness for many days to come. + +Sir John and my lady, the Master and Betty, were bidden to dinner to +the house of Mr. Malcome of Grange; and his kind sister, Mistress +Anne, seeing me at the Hermitage one day when she came to visit, and +remembering my grandpapa and my parents, very cordially asked me to be +of the party. The Master, who had business that day of a private nature +some miles away, was late of arriving at the house, but late as he was +our host was still later. Mistress Anne, having waited already for the +guest, decided not to delay longer for the master, and telling us gaily +that the dinner would be spoilt, not to talk of the cook’s temper, +she made us sit down without him. I remember nothing about the meal +except that when Mr. Malcome did arrive, which was not till we had been +half-an-hour at table, he appeared to be in a very hilarious mood, and +scarce eat anything, though he called for many toasts. His apologies +for his discourtesy were vague though profuse, and he carried on his +conversation in jerky phrases, quite unlike his wonted flowing style. + +What was in the air, however, we did not discover till the feast was +ended and most of the guests departed. As the party from Dysart were +to lie that night at Grange, we alone remained, and were seated with +Mistress Anne in the parlour, when her brother who had been seeing his +guests away from the front door, entered the room, accompanied by Sir +John and the Master of Sinclair. + +At once Mr. Malcome shut to the door, closed the shutters with their +heavy iron bar, and extinguished some of the candles. Then beckoning to +us ladies to come round him, he began to talk in a low voice. + +“Great news to-day, my friends! My lord, the Earl of Mar, is landed.” + +Sir John, my lady and myself were all eagerness at this, but showed +no surprise. Mistress Malcome threw up her hands in amazement, Betty +appeared puzzled, but the face of the Master grew as black as thunder. + +“My Lord of Mar?” he cried out harshly. + +“Just so!” continued Mr. Malcome, “he landed last night at Elie, not +far from this very house, having come all the way from London, so he +tells me, in a coal-barque. He was disguised as a common sailor, and +wrought like one too, as the ship possessed but three seamen.” + +“What need of so much theatrical display?” interrupted the Master with +a sneer. + +“To baffle our friends at Court,” was the reply, “where my lord took +care to attend a levee the very night that he sailed.” + +“Does he come alone?” inquired Sir John. + +“He is accompanied by General Hamilton and Colonel Hay, also disguised, +my lord travelling as Mr. Maule. ’Twas cleverly arranged, and no mortal +in London can as yet be aware of his movements. He has now gone to be +with Bethune of Balfour, and from thence in a day or two he spurs north +to Dupplin House.” + +“What means his coming, brother?” asked Mistress Malcome, still +perplexed. + +“I will tell you, my dear; ’tis to pave the way for the coming of the +Duke of Berwick--” + +“The Duke of Berwick!” cried Betty, with sharp displeasure in her +tones, “and why not the King?” + +“Because, Mistress Betty, it is not yet quite certain that the King may +not have to go to England, and join with the Duke of Ormond there.” + +“Is England ready also?” asked my lady. + +“Yes, madam, and so is France. King Louis, as you know, is eager to +help us. He hath promised us ten thousand men, of whose landing either +in England or Scotland we may hear any day, with great store of arms +and ammunition.” + +Darker and darker grew the Master’s face as he listened, and now he +burst forth in his harshest and most scornful tones: + +“And pray, what hath my Lord of Mar to do with all this? Is it to be +supposed that he who hath thrown himself under the feet of the Elector +of Hanover, only to be kicked away as he deserved, will be trusted as a +leader by the leal gentlemen of Fife? I wonder to hear you, sir, speak +thus complacently of a man of my lord’s temper, upon whom no reliance +can be placed! Did he not betray us over the Union, and will he not do +it again?” + +This speech had the effect of altering the aspect of the company as may +well be imagined. My lady and our kind hostess looked alarmed; Sir John +turned to the Master and bade him curtly be silent, in a tone I had +never heard him use before; Betty jumped up, and running to her brother +put her white arm round his neck, and begged him for her sake to have +patience. Mr. Malcome seemed uncomfortable, as well he might, while as +for myself, Barbara, I sat entranced, absorbed and interested as if I +were beholding some drama that was being enacted before my eyes. + +At length Mr. Malcome answered soothingly: + +“I believe that there is no reason to doubt the Earl’s good faith +seeing he is prepared to give himself wholly for the Cause. As for the +Union, I spoke of that to his lordship, and he owned very frankly that +he had been in the wrong to do what he did, but that he hoped by his +future conduct to make amends to Scotland and to us, and in trusting +him we should never repent it.” + +“Repent!” snarled the master, “and if we were ever such fools as to +trust such a man, think you that repenting afterwards would retrieve +it?” + +Again the other attempted to pacify him. + +“I have told him, my dear Master, of the daily fears we have been in, +and of the struggle you have had to keep our horses; but I said also +that the danger could not be staved off much longer.” + +“And what said he to that?” asked Sir John, who during the interview +had spoken little, as one who scarce needed information on the subject +in hand. “What said he to that?” + +“He said,” replied Mr. Malcome, “and I scarce know how to take +it, ‘whenever they are pressed let them draw together and defend +themselves.’” + +For a few moments there was dead silence and then the Master spoke, +this time in a voice of icy coldness that had the sound of a sneer all +through it. ’Twas this voice that so oft enraged and exasperated his +brother, Sir John, and hearing it I justified my dear guardian for any +expression of anger he had ever used towards Captain Sinclair. + +“Truly, we ought to thank my Lord of Mar for this precious piece of +advice, for as such,” he said, “I regard it, seeing that in prospect +of the coming of the Duke of Berwick, the Earl can scarcely consider +himself in a position to _issue orders_. But I, for one, decline to +take it. What! can it be imagined that the gentlemen of Fife are +so rash and foolish as to gather themselves together like rats in +a corn-yard, with the prospect of being worried by the terriers? +Consider, sir, the facts that we already know. The Government are +sending my Lord Duke of Argyle with his dragoons to Stirling, which +alas! is but a few miles away. We hear that the Whig magistrates +and burghers of Perth have made themselves masters of that town. +Consequently, as they hold the Bridge of Earn, which is our only +passage out of Fife, what is easier than to keep us prisoners here! +My Lord Rothes, our worthy Sheriff, has armed the whole mob of the +county, who could readily surround and take us, or if fortune favoured +us so far as to let us escape, who could assure us of a refuge in the +Highlands? Which of us would be bold enough to make our way through the +Athole Country, whose Duke would have vast pleasure in seizing us and +delivering us up to the Government?” + +But Sir John could keep silence no longer, and his full mellow voice +fell like balm upon my ears, now aching from the Master’s grating tones. + +“The Master of Sinclair,” he said, “knows me too well to imagine that I +could for a moment call in question his courage or his honour; but it +seems to me that thus to conjure up so many difficulties, where in fact +there are none, is scarce the act of a brave and experienced officer.” + +“No difficulties?” cried out the master. “Call you the want of arms +nothing?” + +“But arms are coming from France,” persisted Mr. Malcome. “Are they not +promised already, and indeed may now be on the way. Arms, ammunition, +men, money, there will be nothing lacking; and it doth surprise me not +a little to find so hardy a young gentleman as the Master of Sinclair +naturally is, turning so backward in an adventure of the sort.” + +“Hardihood is not necessarily folly, my good friend,” growled the +Master. “But, to be sure, you are known as ‘the honest laird,’ and what +you say to the people they will stand by. But a day may come when not +only Fife, but all Scotland, shall rue the landing of the Earl of Mar +from his coal-barque at Elie last night.” + +This speech was followed by a prudent silence, and after a pause our +host rose, and turning to the knight said courteously: + +“And now, Sir John, will you grant me a few minutes in private?” + +As they left the room, my lady and Mistress Anne followed to make some +arrangement for the morrow, and thus we three, Betty, Barbara, and the +Master were left alone. + +“You do not trust the Earl of Mar, brother?” said Betty, somewhat +timidly. + +“No more than I would trust a serpent not to sting me, were I fool +enough to warm it in my bosom,” was his contemptuous reply. + +“My brother, Sir John, thinks different,” quoth she. + +“I know it well, my dear, and though I acquit the knight of being so +great a knave as his kinsman, he is in my opinion no less of a fool.” + +At this my face burned hot, and I called out from my corner. + +“You do not like Sir John, Captain Sinclair; you are ever unjust to +him.” + +He turned at that, surprised to hear so bold a speech from the girl +who had sat dumb for the past hour, but he smiled stiffly. With all +his ill-humour I have never seen him discourteous to a woman; and +seeing that in after years he was twice married, both times to good and +sensible women, it may be that there was a side to his character to +which the world was a stranger. If this were not so, as I have often +thought, my dear Betty could not have loved him so tenderly. + +“Your heat, Mistress Barbara, does credit to your heart,” he said, “and +I blame you not for disagreeing with me. Sir John is my brother-in-law, +it is true; but the nearness of our relationship, while it assures me +of his virtues as a husband and a friend, does not blind my judgment +to his character. The darling passion of his life is the attempting of +desperate projects, and no matter how often he should fail, there is +that buoyancy in his nature which will not suffer him to be convinced +of his own insufficiency. He hath still the misfortune to imagine he is +born to be a Great Man, and when all fails, nothing but want of wings +can hinder him from undertaking the voyage of the moon.” + +He was not without discernment, the Master of Sinclair; and although +at the time I bitterly resented his words, and believed that he spoke +thus out of jealousy, I have since had reason to think that, robbed of +its extravagance, his estimate of my kind guardian’s character was not +altogether wrong. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +TELLS OF THE ONLY OCCASION ON WHICH I MET THE EARL OF MAR + + +Now I think it will be agreed that an idea which had sprung full-formed +into my mind during my silent listening, with regard to the Master’s +conduct, was not without weight. It seemed clear to me then, and grew, +if possible, clearer in the light of after events, that his hatred +and jealousy of the Earl of Mar were the cause of all his strange +behaviour. He received the news of his landing, as we have seen, with +surprise and scorn, and the first hint of that nobleman as a leader +and commander roused his wrath to such a pitch, that from that moment +he put little check upon his fury. Had the Duke of Berwick landed in +place of the Earl, or had my Lord of Ormond arrived at the head of the +expedition, it is my opinion that the Master of Sinclair would have +raised no obstacles and seen no difficulties any more than our host of +Grange himself. But his hatred of my Lord Mar was of old standing and +well known to their friends, and his jealous spirit could not brook the +notion of being under orders to the man he despised. From that day, +although in obedience to my Lord Sinclair’s commands, he continued +in the affair, his heart was not in it. He was thought to be but a +lukewarm adherent, and when honour demanded that he should endeavour to +hide his misgivings, support his Commander, and do nothing to foster +dissensions in the camp, he made himself obnoxious to the Earl and his +friends, raising up strife, frustrating plans, and sowing everywhere +the seeds of mistrust and insubordination, which quickly sprang up and +bore most bitter fruit. + +When it became known to him that Mr. Malcome had been charged with a +private message from the Earl to Sir John, his jealous rage increased +ten-fold, and from that day onward in spite of the knight’s efforts +to pacify him, which for his lady’s sake he most generously made, his +bearing towards his brother-in-law was marked by scorn and bitterness, +which, while it merely provoked Sir John, deeply annoyed my Lord +Sinclair and grieved his whole family. + +In consequence of my Lord Mar’s message, whatever it may have been, +Sir John did not next morning return with us to Dysart, but rode +straight to the house of Mr. Bethune of Balfour, to interview the +nobleman, and hear from him of his plans. Secret messages were sent +to all the _honest_ gentlemen in that part of the country to wait +upon his lordship, but it was only by dint of stern commands from his +father, and the loving entreaties of Betty herself, that the Master +of Sinclair could be persuaded to attend on him. I believe that the +Earl, from the first, treated Captain Sinclair with great kindness and +deference, making inquiries of him about the state of feeling in the +country, asking his advice, and otherwise behaving in a very frank +and manly way. This, Sir John told my lady; and that at first the +Master attempted to hide his gruffness and to respond in like manner, +and Sir John, with his genial, sanguine nature, had great hopes that +the rupture between them might be healed. As a further proof of his +friendliness, my lord, in going to Dupplin House in Perthshire, the +seat of the Lord Kinnoul, decided to come by Dysart in order to spend a +few hours at the Hermitage, and pay his respects to my Lord Sinclair. + +This was the sole occasion upon which I saw the Earl of Mar, and I +make no secret of the fact that his appearance, manners, and courteous +behaviour quite won me over to the side of Sir John and my lady, who +thought him one of the best and cleverest of men. As I have said +before, I have no desire to dig too deep into the causes and motives of +any man’s actions. All the world knows of the Earl’s mistakes, because +the project he undertook failed; but so closely are we “bound up in the +bundle of life,” as the Scripture saith, one with another, that it were +impossible either at that time, or now, forty years after, to determine +who else were at fault, or how many mistakes and errors went to make +up the whole. I suppose, that if the King’s Cause had prospered, and +if he were now seated upon the throne of his forefathers instead of +living in sad exile, not much would be heard of the incapacity of the +Earl of Mar, or the motives, good or bad, which urged him on. Truly, as +it saith again in the Book of Proverbs, “The lot is cast into the lap, +but the whole disposing thereof is of the Lord.” And to those of you +who, ten years back, witnessed the triumph of that brave young Prince +as he rode gaily up the High Street of Edinburgh, with strong hopes in +his heart of winning back the kingdom for his royal father, and who, +later, mourned with him over these same hopes utterly cast down, this +assurance from the pages of Holy Writ is the only comfort you could +have. For myself, I was at that moment far away with my dear husband in +the East Indies, so that only the rumours of Prince Charles Edward’s +coming and going reached our ears; but as I heard of his charm, his +courage, his successes, and in the next breath of his sufferings, his +disappointments, and his failure, my tears fell for pity of the Lost +Cause, just as they had done so many years before. + + * * * * * + +But what must you be thinking of this garrulous old woman, who lets +her thoughts so wander from the path and her pen run away with her? +I was telling you of the visit of the Earl to the Hermitage, and it +all comes back to me very plain and clear. I had heard the Master say +that my lord was a humpback, or at least deformed, but though I could +perceive that one shoulder was slightly higher than the other, he +carried himself with so much grace that it scarce detracted from his +appearance. He was dressed very plain to avoid attention, but I thought +for all that he looked the great gentleman he was. Upon my being +presented to him, he saluted me very kindly on the cheek, as was then +the custom, and told me that he knew my Grandpapa very well, saying +also in a laughing tone that if I lived up to my name I must needs be +happy to see him, and to know the reason of his coming. Upon which I +told him that I was very glad and thankful that the King had so good +a friend, and at this he looked pleased and made me a low bow. He +talked respectfully with my Lord Sinclair of the coming Rising, rallied +Mistress Bess gaily on her enthusiasm, and answered very cordially my +lady’s enquiries as to the health of his Countess and the welfare of +their infant daughter. He took little Henry upon his knee, and calling +Charles to his side told him of his friend, Tommy, who, he said, was +now considered the bully of Westminster, for to that famous school +Lordy Erskine had lately gone. + +“I like Tommy,” cried Charles, “he’s a great friend of mine!” + +“And I like Tommy too,” lisped Harry, not to be outdone, “he gives me a +pick-a-back!” + +My lady bade the children not be troublesome, and sent them away to +Phemie; but when was a mother’s heart not warmed by small attentions +to her children, or how could any woman think ill of a man who thus +fondled her little sons? I am sure that if my lady’s faith in the Earl +had been in any way dimmed by her brother’s cruel suspicions, it burned +bright and steady again after this visit to Dysart. + +Before he left us, and his stay was but brief, he drew from his bosom a +portrait done in miniature, and, smiling, offered it to each of us in +turn. We looked at it in silence. It was the face of the King. A face +singularly attractive in its youthful grace, for the high forehead, the +long, gentle, hazel eyes, even the lack of power in the full mouth and +rounded chin, all helped to give it an air of sweetness which yet had +a tinge of sadness in it; and while my heart was filled with a sudden +strange yearning, I was not surprised to see tears in Betty’s eyes, as +she lifted the miniature to her lips and reverently kissed it. + +And so with kind adieux, and hearty wishes for Godspeed in his venture, +and gay waving of the hand, my Lord of Mar rode off to join his +friends; and we watched him long upon the winding road, with smiles on +our lips and prayers in our hearts, little dreaming that not one of us +should ever look upon his face again. + +Neither Sir John nor the Master of Sinclair was present at this +interview, the latter having private affairs at the other side of the +county, and my guardian being absent on one of the many secret missions +which now occupied all his time. Several times he crossed to Edinburgh, +returning the same day, for our agent there, Captain Harry Straton, was +by now in the thick of business. On one of these occasions he brought +back the discouraging news that the Duke of Ormond, had, on fear of +being arrested, fled in haste from England, thus destroying our hopes +in that direction; but it was thought that being now in France, he +might combine with the King, and that on his return to England, the +soldiers, by whom he was greatly beloved, would readily flock to his +Standard. Sometimes Sir John was absent from Dysart many days together, +being sent with important messages to gentlemen between Edinburgh +and the Border, and even as far south as Dumfries and Galloway with +despatches to the Earl of Nithsdale, and my Lord Kenmure. + +But that part of the business came to an end at last, and one night +upon his return we learned the meaning of it all. My Lord Mar was +holding a great _Tinchel_ or Hunting of the deer, in his forest of +Braemar, on the 26th day of August, and from near and far his _invited +guests_ were spurring north to join him. On the eve of departure, Sir +John and the Master, though intending to ride together on the morrow, +again broke out in dissension. ’Twas at supper, and some of our trusty +neighbours were present. The Master, still smarting at the thought of +Mar’s supremacy, threw doubts upon his wisdom in calling together so +large a gathering which could not be kept private. + +“And what need for privacy,” cried Sir John, “when the country is ready +to rise at our bidding?” + +“With the King still in France,” replied the Master, “Ormond fled from +England, Argyle to take command in Scotland, and with six thousand +Dutch troops ready to cross the sea to his assistance at a day’s +notice, it seems to me that the quieter we make our plans the better.” + +“And to me it seems,” returned the other, “that enough time has been +wasted, and the sooner the King’s Standard is openly raised, the more +secure we shall stand.” + +And as all the company, including ourselves, were in agreement with +this notion, and everyone weary of the repeated delays, the Master’s +arguments were silenced, though I have no doubt his opinion remained +the same. + +And now so many things crowd into my memory that I despair of setting +the half of them down. I must leave it to history to tell you of that +great meeting at Braemar, when noblemen and gentlemen from all parts of +Scotland, from Caithness to the Border, and from Fife to the Western +Isles, assembled to hear what the Earl of Mar had to tell them. What it +was you know very well, and his manner of telling it. Also how, after +enthusiastically agreeing to join the project--with, I fear, too little +forethought or consideration--they dispersed to their homes in order to +gather their forces together. + +Still the days went slowly by for us, hearing nothing from the north, +and little from other sources, for in the absence of our men we saw, +designedly, but little of our neighbours, and except for the two +Pitcairns, uncle and nephew, had no communication with the outer world. + +My lady was growing anxious for news of her husband, and the strained +look which I was to see so often in her kind eyes was beginning to show +itself. When late one night, as we two were on our way to bed, after +the rest of the household had retired, there came a sound of gentle +knocking at the small door in the tower past which we must go to reach +our rooms. The muffled sound at that hour, in the darkness (for we +carried no light) was one to set our hearts beating, and I clutched at +my cousin’s arm as we paused to listen. The knocking continued, and +without a word my lady turned and began to go down the little flight of +steps that led to the door. + +“Madam!” I cried softly, “be careful. Shall I call your brother, Mr. +Will?” + +But my lady did not pause. She looked back at me up the winding stair, +and the moonlight from the narrow window fell upon her face; it was +white, but she was smiling. I knew that in those days there was no time +for foolish fears, and secrets, however they were carried, were not to +be trusted to servants. There was nothing for my lady to do, but what +she was doing, so I stood in breathless suspense and listened. Surely +she would not open without a question to those without. + +Down below a bolt was drawn, and the door creaked slightly as it was +shoved back. Then I heard a cry, and after that--silence. Trembling +with fear and uncertainty I strained my neck to peer down the twisting +stairway, holding my skirt up with one hand, and descending slowly +step by step. It was not far to go, and suddenly I saw in the patch of +moonlight that shone through the open door two figures that looked like +one. ’Twas my lady in her husband’s arms. I laughed for very relief and +joy, and they both looked up and smiled. My good Sir John was dusty and +travel-worn, and his eyes were heavy with fatigue. He had ridden fast +and far, and the hand he held out to me trembled, while his voice was +weak and husky. + +“Didst ever know such a wench as mine, Barbara?” he cried softly. “Here +she comes stealing down the turret-stair in the moonlight to open the +door to a lover belike, only to discover her husband!” and he laughed +below his breath. + +“My dearest life!” cried my lady, her face all smiles, “would I not +know your knock among a thousand? Come, come, we must close the door +and get you something to eat, for you must be well-nigh starving.” + +“Drink first, sweetheart!” laughed the knight. “There’s no room in this +throat of mine for meat to pass down till some of the dust has been +washed out of it.” + +Softly he shut and bolted the door, and taking off his riding-boots to +carry them in his hand, he stole behind us up the stairs and into the +dining-hall on the left. Once there he flung himself into an arm-chair +and stretched his weary limbs with a great sigh. In a few minutes we +had collected food and wine from the buttery and the pantry, and it was +with a feeling of relief, as intense as though the terrible thirst had +been my own, that I watched the huge tankard filled and emptied. + +“And now, my dearest,” cried my lady, when her lord had demolished half +a cold pasty and much bread and cheese, “why come you so late and in +secret? What news do you bring? Are they good or bad?” + +Sir John’s face was grave. “Mayhap you have heard,” quoth he, “the King +of France is dead.” + +“The King!” + +“Dead?” + +“Ay, dead as mutton! And the power in the hands of a Regent, who, I +know well enough, whatever my Lord of Mar may say, is not well affected +to our cause.” + +My lady seated herself beside him. + +“Nay, we have heard nothing. No news have come from Edinburgh this +sennight. All our friends are from home as you know, and David Pitcairn +has thought it well to bide quiet and attend to business.” + +“Betty’s business?” cried the knight, and my lady laughed. + +“Nay, my dear; Betty’s business would be the King’s, as you very well +know, and if he is to be of use to us later, he must not draw suspicion +on himself too soon.” + +“Right and true!” said Sir John. “He may help us all by-and-bye; +David’s a wise lad and can hold his tongue.” + +“So we have heard nothing,” continued my lady. “But this death of King +Louis is a terrible loss to us. What says the Earl?” + +“He insists,” said Sir John, “that the Duke of Orleans is as much in +favour of the Restoration as the old King was, and that his death is no +loss, but rather a gain to the cause. But I know the Regent better than +he, and I hope for no help from him. Indeed, if he do nothing to hinder +us, twill be less than I expect of him.” + +“And now, Sir John,” I cried, “will you not tell us why you come thus, +in such haste and privacy, to tell us what all the world must know in a +day or two?” + +He laughed and called me a “saucy minx.” + +“To say truth, Mistress Barbara, your humble servant is a bit of a +coward, and I must own that I stole here to-night under cover of the +darkness (though the moon shines cruelly bright for conspirators), +because I hoped to avoid my eldest brother-in-law, whose jibes and +sneers I can ill brook in my present disturbed state of mind. He left +the north some days ago. Is he at home?” + +My lady smiled, and fondled his hand like one humouring a child. + +“No,” she said, “but he may return to-night, and you will see him most +like at breakfast.” + +“That will I not,” cried he, “for by breakfast-time I must be far from +here. Only a few hours’ sleep, and then up and off again. Come, my +lady, this food has made a new man of me; now to bed, for I must be on +the road by five o’ the clock, and ’tis now half on midnight.” + +A shadow fell over her face. + +“And whither now?” she asked. “I had hoped you could remain a few days +with us.” + +“To Edinburgh,” he cried, “no less! For by the end o’ the week, I trust +the Castle and all its supplies will be in my Lord Drummond’s hands.” + +My lady was again all eagerness and poured forth question after +question as to the time and the method of taking so important a +stronghold, but Sir John only kissed her and put her off in his usual +light-hearted style, and soon after we crept stealthily up to our rooms. + +“I dreamed my papa came and kissed me in the night,” said little +Charles to me next morning. “I thought it was true, and told Phemie +that Sir John was returned, but when I asked my mama, she laughed and +said I must have dreamed it.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +SHOWS HOW A WOMAN’S ACTIONS ARE OFTTIMES MISUNDERSTOOD + + +The very next day, being the tenth of September, came Mr. Malcome to +visit us, with news both good and bad. The Master had not yet returned +home, so that we were ignorant of what had passed since Sir John left +the north. Four days before, our visitor told us, the Earl of Mar +had set up the King’s Standard at Braemar, proclaiming him King of +Scotland, England, France and Ireland. They were making arrangements +for doing likewise in many of the larger towns, such as Aberdeen, +Dunkeld, Brechin, and Montrose, and hoped before long to take Perth +out of the hands of the Whigs and make that place their headquarters. +The affair, said Mr. Malcome, was spreading like fire in the heather +(an ill-sounding simile, thought I) and he believed there would be a +rousing welcome for King James when he arrived. + +“And what of Edinbro’?” asked my lady anxiously, for where her treasure +was, there also was her heart. + +Mr. Malcome gave a long, slow whistle, and turned to my Lord Sinclair. + +“Have you not heard, my lord?” + +The old lord shook his head. “Nothing as yet,” he said. + +He drew a little nearer us, and sank his voice almost to a whisper. + +“A fiasco, my lord, an utter failure, the stupidest piece of bungling +that ever was perpetrated.” + +“But how, sir, did it fail?” cried my lady, with wide, anxious eyes. + +“Strangely enough, madam, through the treachery of a woman,” sighed Mr. +Malcome. “A woman got hold of the scheme, my lady, and, as was natural, +the thing slipped out.” + +“For shame, sir!” cried Betty, her cheeks flaming. “Do you mean to +insinuate that a woman cannot keep a secret--that women are more often +traitors than men? How dare you speak so, Mr. Malcome?” + +Our guest was too old a friend to take umbrage at Mistress Betty’s +wrathful tone. He sighed again but offered no apology. + +“Tell us all you know, sir, I beg,” said my lady. + +“Madam,” said he, “I name no names. If they are not known to you now, +they will be public property soon. But ’tis reported that a certain +young officer who had charge of this scheme, not satisfied to be alone +in his family on our side, engaged his brother, a certain physician +in Edinbro’, to join in with him. The latter, madam, has a wife, who +seeing her husband very melancholy, as weighed down by his knowledge of +the secret, begged him with wifely solicitude to unburden his mind to +her. The gentleman not able to resist her wiles confessed his anxiety, +whereupon the lady, whose sympathies unfortunately lay on the other +side, sent an anonymous despatch to my Lord Justice Clerk. Sir Adam +Cockburn, worthy man, communicated with Colonel Stuart, the Governor; +the plot was frustrated, the Castle was saved, or rather--lost!” + +“And what of the conspirators?” we cried. + +“Most escaped, but two or three fell into the hands of the Town-band, +which the Lord Provost had sent out to patrol the town.” + +“Tell me, sir, have you seen my husband, Sir John?” cried my lady. “Was +he with Mr. Straton last night?” + +“Madam, he was, but this morning he rode north again with the news of +our misfortune to the Earl of Mar.” + +She sighed even as she smiled. + +“Here is a woman,” she cried, laying her hand on her bosom, “who is +traitor enough to the Cause to wish that her husband were not so useful +a man. ’Tis mighty uneasy at times, my friend, to balance the scales +betwixt love and honour; and though I am very sorry that our project +has failed, I cannot as a wife, blame that lady who doubtless loves +her husband as much as I do mine, and wished to save him in spite of +himself.” + +“Madam,” said the discreet Mr. Malcome, “there are always two sides to +a question, if not more; and besides, the story may not be true.” + +After this, many rumours came to our ears without greatly affecting +our daily life, though my lady lived from hour to hour in the hope of +despatches from her husband, and Betty and the rest of the household +were never weary of gathering news from every conceivable source. + +One day the Rev. Mr. Pitcairn, having gone on some errand to Edinburgh, +came back with the news that the Duke of Argyle had arrived from +London, and was gone to Stirling to take up his quarters there. +General Wightman had been for some weeks now in the Castle, and his +troops, some 1800 strong, lay encamped in the King’s Park. Old Colonel +Erskine had not yet been superseded as Governor of the Castle, it +being well known that the majority of that family were in favour of +the Government, though his affection for Sir John and my Lady of Alva +drew his sympathies in the other direction. Old Lady Alva belonged to +a staunch Whig family, and her son Charles at that time seemed in full +sympathy with her, so that neither from them, nor from Aunt Betty did +my lady, as she told me, look for help or pity did things go wrong with +Sir John. But, as you know, in such affairs it is the common rule for +families to be divided amongst themselves, and at present there was no +thought of misfortune. + +The town of Perth fell into possession of the King’s men about the +middle of September in a very simple manner, for the Tory burghers, +having sent privately to Colonel Hay to let him know that they were +ready to revolt against the magistrates, who were Whigs, if he could +bring a sufficient force to back them up, that gentleman, with about +forty horse, shortly afterwards appeared before the town (though on the +wrong side of the river), and his friends, seizing the boats without +any resistance from the town, brought them all across the Tay. The +Whigs who were, we were told, terrified by the report of the approach +of the Earl of Mar with some thousands of Highlandmen, very meekly gave +up their arms to their adversaries, and took no more active part in +opposition than to ride post to Edinburgh to inform the Government of +what had happened. + +To Perth, therefore, by degrees came flocking the noblemen and +gentlemen with their followers, who had agreed to join my Lord Mar. +The young Earl of Strathmore, a fine and gallant gentleman, with two +hundred of his men, was the first to arrive, and following him came +the Earl of Southesk with about the same number. My Lord Panmure, that +brave and staunch old hero, brought with him an hundred Highlandmen, +and two hundred from the Lowlands. My Lord Nairne and his son came +likewise; while the Master of Sinclair at the head of the Fifeshire +gentlemen, of whom he had assumed a kind of unofficial command, rode +away from home with our Godspeeds in his ears to join this gallant +company. + +After the departure of that gentleman, we had more news from +headquarters than most people, I suppose; for the Master, being a +great scribe, thought little of penning more than one long letter of +an evening. So that my lord, his father, and his sister Betty, were +constantly receiving despatches. I cannot but own that the picture he +drew was far from encouraging. The Earl of Mar was not yet come to +Perth, nor General Hamilton with his troops, and every man did what +seemed right in his own eyes. The lack of order and discipline to a +man accustomed to the ways of tried soldiers must indeed have been +vexatious, and even making allowance, as we all half laughingly did, +for the trend of the Master’s temper and the _sharpness of his pen_ +there was much in his accounts to make my lord shake his head, and keep +us all somewhat anxious. + +One thing that greatly annoyed him was the indifferent way in which +some of the gentlemen, who ought not to have exposed themselves, rode +about the country alone on the smallest excuse. They were constantly +returning home on one pretext or another, generally on the plea of +getting fresh supplies of money; spending perhaps a night or two +away from camp, and returning with the utmost carelessness in broad +daylight. Again and again the Master told us he had warned them +that they would be kidnapped, and at last what he predicted really +happened. Our friend, Sir Thomas Bruce, riding home on some such +errand, was taken by a party of dragoons, under Lord Rothes, near to +the town of Kinross, and carried prisoner to Leslie House. + +“And serve him right!” cried Betty indignantly, when we heard of it. +“He should have listened to my brother’s warning.” + +About this time we heard that the Earl of Sutherland had landed at +Leith from England, and had sailed north to his own county, of which +he had lately been made Lord-lieutenant, to raise the Clans in that +neighbourhood in favour of the Government. This dashed our spirits a +little, but we had soon reason to be glad of it. + +One evening about six o’clock, we were walking in the wood that borders +the shore between the Hermitage and the grim old Castle of Ravenscraig +which was now being allowed to fall into decay. My lady walked in front +with young Mr. Pitcairn at her side, and little Charles ran before her, +Betty and myself following. It had been a still, bright day, such as we +often get in the end of September in Scotland, and scarcely a ripple +rose to break upon the rocks. The sun was out of sight behind us, but +its full light shone upon the water, and the distant coast seemed very +far away. Some boats were in the Frith, but the air was so light that +their sails were almost useless; for though they filled enough to bear +the little crafts gently onward, in most of them the boatmen had taken +to the oars. + +Suddenly Betty stood still, her keen eyes fixed on one of these tiny +barks, which seemed to be steering towards us; it was as yet too far +off for me to make out its occupants, but my companion had the eyes of +a hawk. + +“Sister!” she cried, “the boat, do you see it?” + +My lady turned and stood beside us, looking where she pointed. + +“Surely, Bess, I see it--what then? ’Tis but a fishing-boat going out +for the night.” + +“Nay, my dear,” laughed Betty, “there you are wrong. Can you not see? +They are making signals.” And snatching her kerchief from her neck she +waved it above her head. + +“Take care, my woman!” cried her sister, catching at her arm, “that is +a dangerous thing to do. You know not who it is, Betty. Do you want +every Tom, Dick, and Harry to land at the Hermitage? One would take you +for a child at times, so rashly do you act.” + +But Betty’s cheeks were red and her eyes bright with excitement, while +she still gazed eagerly at the boat. Presently, when the little bark +was heading for the harbour just below us, and we could all see in it +the figure of a man in a travelling-cloak, she twisted her kerchief +again round her neck and began to walk quickly forward. + +“You may trust me, my dear Catherine,” she said, “I know their signals. +’Tis one of our party, though I know not who, as yet. Let us meet him +at the stair-foot.” + +We passed down the rough-hewn stone steps that led to the harbour, +David Pitcairn leading and Betty close behind. As the boat touched, the +traveller, who was now on his feet, sprang out, and, with hat in hand, +stood looking up at us. + +“Why?” cried my lady, “’tis Mr. James Murray! You were right, Bess, +’tis a friend indeed. Welcome home, sir! Are you but newly from France?” + +The last words were added in a whisper, as the young man bent to kiss +her hand. He nodded silently, and turned to fee his boatmen (very +liberally, to judge from the satisfaction on their faces). They handed +him up a box, which David with a laugh, and in spite of the other’s +protest, swung upon his shoulder, and we all started again for the +house. + +“Was it you, Mistress Elizabeth, who answered my signal?” asked the +traveller. “I was surprised to find you could see mine from so far. +Had I not caught sight of you ladies in the wood, I should not have +ventured, I fear, to approach the house.” + +“Why not, Mr. Murray? My lord will be over-joyed to see you,” cried +Betty. “’Tis many months since you left us. How is the King? Is this +your first return?” + +“Yes, madam, I have been in France since April, and come now with +good news for the Earl of Mar. I arrived in Edinburgh this morning, +disguised, having travelled by way of England; but when I left France, +his Majesty was well and in good spirits.” + +“Then, indeed, you are welcome to us all,” cried my lady, and with this +we were come to the front door, and our guest was ushered in with every +expression of hospitality. + +Supper was hurried forward, and entertainment of the best was bestowed +upon the traveller. I had gathered that this Mr. Murray was second son +to the Viscount of Stormont, and a trusted friend of King James. We +learned now that his Majesty had appointed him Secretary of State for +the affairs of Scotland, and while we knew that he carried the Royal +Commission to the Earl of Mar, he whispered, under seal of solemn +secrecy, that he brought also a Patent creating him a Duke. This news +was greeted with all joy and approval, and we drank to the health of +the Duke of Mar. + +“Pray, sir,” said the elder Mr. Pitcairn, for David had been sent in +haste to bid his uncle to supper, “can you give us any news of the +King’s movements?” + +“I give you my word, sir,” was the reply, “that his Majesty is resolved +to cross very shortly; but the roads in France are all guarded, and it +will not be without difficulty that he reaches the coast. My Lord Stair +would not be grieved overmuch were his Majesty to fall into the hands +of some convenient highwayman.” + +“Oh!” cried Betty, in horror, “you cannot mean, sir, that he wishes for +his death?” + +“That, Mistress Betty, is a harsh manner of speaking, but the +Ambassador certainly thinks that King James is in the way.” + +“God preserve him,” breathed the minister, “from the hands of wicked +men.” + +“Amen!” cried my lord. “And what, sir, is being done in the way of +material assistance, for of that we have heard a vast deal, though +nothing has been seen.” + +“When I left France, my lord, there were ships in the ports of Havre, +St. Malo, and other places, twelve ships of war in all, with several +swift frigates being loaded with great store of ammunition--small arms, +shells, bullets, and some pieces of artillery, while soldiers and +officers in abundance only waited their orders to embark.” + +“God be praised!” cried my lord, “this sounds like reality at last. If +only they do not delay, but strike, as the saying is, while the iron is +hot.” + +“And what of the Duke of Berwick?” asked his younger son, William. + +Here Mr. Murray looked uncomfortable and made no reply for a moment, +but presently he said he feared there had been trouble between the King +and his half-brother, of which he could give no details, but he now +believed the Duke would not take part in the expedition at all. + +“The more’s the pity!” he added, “for there is no doubt that he is a +good and brave man, as well as a skilful general.” + +It is needless to say that we were all very much cast down at this +news, for our opinion of the Duke had always been that of Mr. Murray, +and we had been led to hope great things from his assistance. We talked +the matter over, and again fell back upon the hope that the Duke of +Ormond, though inferior in skill, might take his place in England. We +discussed it far into the night, until my lady, rising, protested that +Mr. Murray must have some rest, seeing he intended starting in search +of the Earl of Mar, whose whereabouts was uncertain, early the next day. + +But on the morrow as we sat at breakfast a despatch was brought in +from the Master of Sinclair, which saved the important messenger any +unnecessary delay. The Earl, he said, had arrived at Perth with a +large following of Highlanders the day before. The companies already +in the town were drawn out on the North Inch to receive him, and our +informant added that my Lord Mar had already begun to stick thorns in +his (the Master’s) side, by his arrogant assumption of authority and +infallibility. As her brother could not mention this nobleman’s name +without some sign of irritation, my lady smilingly suppressed this +addition, and assuring Mr. Murray of our delight in having had the good +fortune to waylay and entertain him, we bade him a hearty adieu. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +TELLS HOW MISTRESS BETTY HAD A BRILLIANT NOTION, AND OF HOW IT WAS +CARRIED OUT + + +It seemed to us all in those days that Fortune was playing a game of +_see-saw_ with us and our hopes. No sooner were we elated by some +piece of good luck, than something happened of the reverse order to +cast us down into the depths of depression. Two days after the visit +of Mr. James Murray, news was sent to Mr. Harry Straton in Edinburgh +that, following hard upon his track, came one, Mr. Ezekiel Hamilton to +wit, with very evil tidings. The Regent, Orleans, to whom we had been +told to look for help, had proved himself the very reverse, for he had +caused the ships, of which Mr. Murray had spoken with such confidence, +to be unloaded of all the arms and ammunition, and it was added that +Admiral Byng had leave from him to search all ships coming from Havre +and other ports to Scotland. Here was a blow to our hopes, and we were +just where we had been, or perhaps a little lower in the scale of +unhappiness in consequence of the severity of our disappointment. + +“Ah!” sighed my lady, “you see my dear Sir John was right. He +mistrusted the Regent, and indeed feared he would do us harm. Was ever +king so unjustly treated, or surrounded by so much treachery!” + +“Oh,” cried Betty, “would to God I could do something to help! How +terrible it is to be a weak woman in times like these! Come, Barbara, +let us at least get to horse, and ride out and hear some news. I shall +go mad if I stay cooped in the house another hour.” + +Nothing loth, I did as she bade me, and we were soon upon the road. She +had refused to take a servant, “for,” said she, “if we hear any secrets +we must keep them to ourselves.” + +“We are not like to hear many, my dear,” said I, “for there is no one +to tell them to us. See, as far as I can look along the road, there is +not a soul in sight. How far shall we go? ’tis getting late to be out +alone!” + +“Oh, fear not, child!” cried Betty, shortly. “Naught can happen to us +here, where all the world knows us. Pray do me the favour to be silent. +I wish to think.” + +It was a quiet bright evening, with the first touch of frost to make +the air keen upon our faces. On and on we rode till the houses of +Burntisland came in view. When we were near the town, Betty pulled her +horse to a walk, and pointing to the harbour, bade me look at a little +ship anchored in the roadstead. + +“I wonder whence it comes and what it contains,” said she idly; and +I wondered at her interest, for there were several vessels in the +harbour, and ships were constantly coming and going in the Frith, so +that there was nothing to distinguish this in any particular way. + +Not deeming it prudent to go into the town, as the evening was +darkening down and we two women alone, Betty stopped at a little inn at +the entrance of the street, where the wife was one Janet Spiers, who +had formerly been cook-maid at the Hermitage. Rapping on the door with +her whip-handle, Betty soon brought the good woman out, who, on seeing +the quality of her visitors, overwhelmed us with kind requests to come +in and rest. + +“Why, Jenny,” said Betty, “we do not mean to alight; ’tis close on +seven o’clock and the days are growing short. We did but ride this way +to take the air, and being so near your house I stopped to ask for your +gudeman.” + +“Thank ye kindly, Mistress ’Lizabeth,” said the woman, “he’s real weel. +The hoast was sair on him a while back, but sin’ the hairst he’s ta’en +up fine.” + +They chatted together for a few minutes, and upon my remarking on the +number of ships in the harbour, Janet Spiers pointed to the very vessel +which had attracted the attention of Betty a short while back, and +asked her if she knew what it contained. + +“Why, no,” said Betty, “nothing very valuable I should say.” + +The woman tossed her head with a contemptuous smile. + +“Ye wad wonder!” she cried. “What think ye, Mistress Betty? There’s +fire-arms intilt, and pouther and bullets and a’, and what for? To send +awa’ north to my Lord Sutherland for him tae arm his men and gar them +fecht for the English King. Set him up indeed! I’m for King Jamie, ye +ken, my leddy, as ye are yersel’.” + +“Arms!” cried Betty, in great surprise, “arms and ammunition! But where +do they come from, and what do they here?” + +“Weel, weel,” said Janet Spiers, “they were shipped at Leith frae the +Castle at Edinbro’, but the chiel that’s maister o’ the ship is a +Bruntisland man. He lives down bye in the close there, forenent the +quay. He’s been awa’ this three weeks, and as he kent the gudewife was +near her time, he couldna think tae sail awa’ north without spierin’ +for her. Aweel, she was brocht tae bed o’ a fine laddie this morn, and +naethin’ wad satisfy the creatur (a spoilt quean she is), but keep her +man by her for a wee. An’ he, honest man, was sweer tae leave her, and +sae, there he is, and there’s his ship, and there’s nae hurry aboot +sailing, that I can see.” + +“How long will he stay, think ye, Jenny?” said Betty, and I could hear +a thrill of excitement in her voice. + +“Till the morn’s nicht at the full o’ the tide, onyway,” said the +other, “an’ maybe langer.” + +“And how many stands of arms did they tell you the ship contained?” she +asked. + +“Oh,” said Jenny, doubtfully, “twa-three thoosan’, maybe.” + +“Dear me!” cried Betty, “my Lord Sutherland will be lucky to get them. +Well, Jenny, we must say good-night, and ride fast to get home before +the darkness falls. Come, Barbara.” + +And away we went again upon the homeward road, while the land behind us +darkened, and the first bright star shone out above us in the pale sky. + +So fast rode Betty that I was soon out of breath and called out to her +to stop, but she only urged her beast to the utmost, and left me to +follow some way behind. What had come to her I wondered; could she be +afraid of the approaching night? But no, fear and Betty were not well +acquainted, and I soon dismissed the thought. My dear friend was full +of whims, and her mind I knew was greatly disturbed. I did my best to +keep up with her, and bent my attention on the road we had to follow. +It was almost dark when we came abreast of the Town-House of Dysart +(for straight into the town we had ridden), and the place was nearly +empty. Betty stopped abruptly and seemed to be considering what to do +next. A man came out of Quality Street and turned towards us, and in +the dim light we both recognised Mr. David Pitcairn. + +“David, oh, _David_!” cried Betty, not loud but with an intensity of +feeling in her tone which would have carried her words much further, +and in a few quick strides he was beside us. + +How clearly I remember his appearance as he stood there with his +hand upon her horse’s neck, and his fine face lifted to hers in the +twilight. So well I knew the devotion that filled his soul, though none +had told me of it, that I felt sure, whatever she asked of him, he +would then and there consent. + +“Dear David,” said Betty, “you are the very man I was hoping to see,” +and my heart contracted at the words, knowing what they must mean to +him. “I have a project, ’tis formed within the last half-hour. There is +something you must do for me--nay, not for me, for the King, David--and +if you love me you will not refuse.” + +Ah! Betty, was it kind to put it thus? But what woman would have +refrained from using her sweetness as a lure in a like case? + +“If I love you, Betty!” said he, very gravely. “Have I ever refused you +anything you required of me?” + +Even at that moment I saw her falter. Was she putting him to a test too +hard? + +“Then walk with us along the shore, where no envious ears can overhear +us. Oh! David, such a chance, such good fortune as never could have +been expected! I can scarce restrain myself from laughing aloud. But +we must be quiet. It must be kept secret; no one shall know but you, +and Barbara, and my lord. ’Tis better so.” So fast she talked, and +appeared so excited, that I almost feared her agitation would overcome +her, but by-and-bye when we were beyond the houses she spoke more +quietly. + +“Listen, David. There is lying outside the harbour of Burntisland at +this moment, a ship filled with arms and ammunition intended for the +Earl of Sutherland in the north. You can guess what he means to do with +them. There they are now for anyone to take, for the master, poor fool, +is grinning over the cradle of his new-born son; and the crew, I dare +swear, are as pleasantly, if less innocently, employed about the town. +Now we must, by hook or by crook, get those arms for our own. Three +thousand stands, David, and much powder and bullets, think what a haul! +Is it not splendid?” + +“Magnificent!” said David, smiling. “But do you propose my boarding the +vessel alone in the night, and bearing them away on my back, Betty?” + +“Nay!” she cried, reproachfully, “I am not so foolish. But this I +propose: my brother, the Master, must be told of it; he will know what +to do. He will come with a troop from Perth, and take them by force +if necessary. But it must be done at once, and in as secret a way as +possible. The ship will sail to-morrow at midnight, with the tide. +Someone--you, dear David, must go this night to Perth, carrying a +despatch from me, which I will write presently; and you must ride in +hot haste, so as to be there by daybreak, and lose no time in waking my +brother and telling him of the matter. He may have to consult my Lord +of Mar, but no one, I think, will be so mad as to neglect this great +opportunity.” + +David walked along slowly, his eyes on the ground. He was between us, +and I listened for his answer as eagerly as Betty. To my surprise it +was long of coming, and my companion, still more astonished, broke out +again impatiently. + +“You will not refuse, David! ’Tis not so hard a task. A night in the +saddle cannot mean much to you. Why do you hesitate? I thought--” + +Then he lifted his head and looked at her in quiet wonder. + +“Do you mean to say you doubt me, Betty! I was but thinking out my best +road. And my horse has been out all day.” + +So, I suppose, had he, but Betty did not notice the admission. + +“You shall have the best horse in my lord’s stables!” she cried, +joyfully. “You shall choose for yourself. Oh no, I did not doubt you, +David. I _knew_ you would do it. There is no one more faithful and +true.” + +And she cast upon him a look so sweet and kind that I, not knowing the +secrets of this wayward woman-heart, began to think for the first time +that, for her patient squire, the reward he wished might not be quite +impossible. He lifted the little hand that hung down beside him, and +raised it to his lips. + +“And what shall my payment be?” he asked. + +But even as if he scorned his own question, he hurried forward to push +open the gate, and Betty rode up to the house in silence. + +My Lord Sinclair was sitting down to supper when we entered the hall, +but his daughter, in her impetuous way, swept him with her into a +little room which stood empty, and beckoning to David and myself, she +bade us enter and shut the door. It did not take long to acquaint my +lord with our story, and he was heartily pleased to approve of Betty’s +plan. The sole objection that he made was that nothing should be +written; papers were dangerous, and Mr. Pitcairn might be waylaid, and +even searched. + +“Let the message go by word of mouth,” said he. “David has brains +enough to deliver it as you give it to him, and my son knows him too +well to doubt that he comes from us.” + +So it was arranged. David was to sup at the Hermitage, going after +to his uncle at the Manse to acquaint him with his intended venture. +A good horse was to be provided for him, and as soon as it was dark +enough, which would be by ten of the clock, he was to ride out of the +town and make his way to Perth. By riding all night, but keeping to +unfrequented ways, he would come there by five or six in the morning, +and he had instructions to find out the Master’s lodging, and rouse him +at once to receive the news. + +You may imagine, at supper there were at least two of us with little +appetite, and my lady chid her sister for having ridden too far and +tired both herself and me. As soon as possible I escaped upstairs, and +right glad was I when my cousin joined me, to find that the secret had +been imparted to her. Indeed, I believe it might have been discussed +openly before all the house without any harm done, the entire household +being too faithful to my lord’s interests to breathe a word that would +endanger any of them. + +As we sat and talked in the half-dark, for the room was lighted but by +one small taper, we heard the sounds of preparation in the stable-yard, +for upon that my window looked. I opened the casement and we leaned +out. A horse, ready saddled, stood there with a groom beside him! By +the feeble light of the lanthorn hung on the wall we could see his +grand form, and the proud lift of his head, as his nostrils snuffed the +cold night air. + +“’Tis La Flèche!” my lady whispered, “the best horse my lord has left.” + +Out of the low doorway leading from the kitchens came David Pitcairn, +booted and spurred, but with his hat in his hand. Behind him tripped +Betty, and with a word dismissed the groom, who shuffled back into +the stable. As Mr. Pitcairn stood ready to mount, Betty came close +to him, and spoke in a tone so low that it did not reach us. When he +answered her she took something from her bosom and held it out to him +in her open hand. The light gleamed on a little gold heart, and I +recognised a trinket that she was fond of wearing. With a smile she let +him take it, and with a smile he raised it to his lips. Just then the +town-clock struck ten. He caught hold of both her hands and kissed them +lingeringly, swung himself into the saddle, and waving his hat with +a cheerful “good-bye,” rode out into the darkness. For some minutes +we listened to the sound of the horse’s hoofs growing fainter in the +distance, and then we drew back into the room and closed the window. + +My lady sighed. “Poor David!” she said softly. + +“I wish,” cried I, “that Betty could be kinder to him, madam.” + +“Alas! child,” said she, “Bess is already far too kind, and yet I know +she means no harm. She loves him in every way but one, and he worships +her with body, heart, and soul, as it is not good for any woman to be +worshipped.” + +“You think she would not marry him?” I asked. My lady laughed, but not +unkindly. + +“Oh, no!” she said. “I do not always understand my sister (I think at +times she scarce understands herself) but I am ready to wager my life’s +happiness that she will never be David Pitcairn’s wife.” + +And at that moment the subject of our talk knocked at the door and +entered. + +Her face was very pale, and her eyes burned bright with excitement. She +came in quietly, and sat down by us in silence. My lady put out her +hand, and laid it affectionately on her shoulder. By the glad, uplifted +look upon her face, we knew that she was deeply moved. + +By-and-bye she spoke gravely, almost solemnly. + +“Sister! Barbara! is it not strange that, after all, my passionate +desire to do something for the King has been gratified? Do you not +see the hand of God in it? What led us to ride in the direction of +Burntisland this evening, when we might as easily have gone the other +way? What prompted me to ask for Janet Spiers’ gudeman, who, I knew, +had lost his cough a month since; and above all, what induced the woman +to talk to us about that little ship? Oh, will it not be wonderful if, +by my means, the Government Army is defeated, and the Country turned +so loyal that when the King comes home he will have nothing to do but +ride to Holyrood and receive the loving homage of a united people.” She +waved her hands in a sort of delighted ecstasy, and ended with a laugh +so joyous that we were fain to join with her. + +“God grant your beautiful dream comes true, my Betty!” cried my lady, +kissing her. “’Twas well thought out, your plan, and can hardly fail. +My brother is the man to attempt the enterprise, and seeing that arms +and ammunition are the things most needed, he will move heaven and +earth to get them. Let us think now of David Pitcairn riding through +the night, and pray that no harm may befall him.” + +“Dear, faithful David!” murmured Betty. “I would trust him with all I +possess.” + +“Except yourself!” said my lady slyly. + +“I do not possess myself, sister!” said Betty, somewhat sharply. “Let +us go to bed and try to sleep off some of our excitement. It will soon +be Sunday morning, and I fear Mr. Pitcairn will have but an inattentive +listener in me, if I am calm enough to go to Kirk to-morrow.” + +And soon after we parted, and went to bed with our various thoughts and +dreams. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN WHICH BETTY AND BARBARA BEHAVE VERY FOOLISHLY + + +And now I am going to relate an adventure so foolish and freakish that, +looking back upon it from the standpoint of discreet years, I cannot +but wonder how my friend Betty ever thought of proposing it, or how +Barbara could be so ready to join in it. But I fear it has been in all +ages, and will continue to be so, that young girls take delight in +doing many things which in after years they regard as impossible, and +which they would certainly prevent their own daughters from doing if +they could. And so the world goes on, and each must sow her little crop +of experiences, and reap her own harvest of wisdom, or mourn over the +doubtful fruits of folly. + +That our folly brought forth no great bitterness was due to the +kindness of Providence, rather than to any credit of our own. Indeed, +while I condemn my own act in yielding to Betty’s request, I cannot but +remember our adventure with a warm stirring at my heart, for a certain +thing happened then that had an after-effect upon my whole life. + +It was upon Saturday night, you will remember, that David Pitcairn left +us to ride to Perth, and the next day being Sunday, we had much ado to +attune our hearts and minds to the sacred duties of the day, for our +thoughts would fly to the Earl of Mar’s army, and back again to the +little ship outside Burntisland harbour. While we all felt the strain +of an anxious and almost sleepless night, my poor Betty’s nervous +tremors were pitiful to behold, the more so that such a condition was +very foreign to her nature, and quite unlike her wonted liveliness. My +lady, who was ever a fragile, delicate woman, had so great a control +over herself that she appeared at times the stronger of the two; but +so sympathetic was she towards her sister that I feared at times they +might betray themselves. + +Anxious or not, it behoved us all to go to church, and to bear +ourselves as if nothing unusual were afoot. But I fear that the pious +and learned discourse of good Mr. Pitcairn bore little fruit in our +hearts that day. We were waiting we knew not for what, and even among +ourselves had little to say save interjections of wonder and longing. + +It seemed as if the day would never pass. After dinner we took the +little boys to the rocks below the wood, Phemie being gone to church, +and there told them tales and let them play quietly. But as the +afternoon waned, a strong wind rose and blew from the north-west, and +as it grew colder and colder we made a retreat to the house. + +As I descended from my room to supper I heard the sound of the turret +door opening, and light steps coming up the twisted stairway made me +pause to see who was there. + +It was Betty, her cheeks rosy with the cold, her hair wind-tossed, her +eyes bright. When she saw me she laughed and clutched my hand. + +“Come to my room directly after supper!” she whispered. “I have a +little thing to tell you.” + +It was evident that something had happened to raise her drooping +spirits, and my lord nodded approval when he heard her laugh as we sat +down to table, while my dear lady looked pleased though surprised to +see that her sister’s appetite had returned. For myself, I could scarce +swallow a bite, being in a state of excitement half fearful, half +pleasant, throughout the meal, not being able to fix in my mind upon +any possible reason for her recovered gaiety. I waited with the utmost +impatience till we were closeted together in Betty’s room, and then +demanded eagerly what had happened. + +She laughed a gay, reckless little laugh, and drew me down upon the +settee beside her. “Nothing has happened yet, my little Barbe,” she +cried, “but something is going to happen soon. Look you, child,” she +went on more seriously, “I am about to ask a great thing of you, and if +you are doubtful, or afeared, tell me now and I will say no more. Can +you undergo some discomfort, run some risks, and trust yourself to me +for a few hours? Tell the truth sincerely.” + +“Why, Betty,” I cried, “you know I love you dearly, and would do a good +deal to pleasure you, but is it fair to make me give my promise without +telling me what you would be at?” + +She looked at me a moment in silence. “You do not answer me as David +did,” she said slowly. + +“Frankly, dear Betty, is there anyone else in the world who would?” I +asked smiling. + +“You are growing up mighty fast, Barbara,” was all she answered, and +for a few moments she sat in silence. + +“Hark ye, my dear,” she roused herself to say, “I mean to trust you. +I cannot bear one hour longer of this suspense than I can help, and I +mean to ride forth at daybreak, and find out, if possible, what has +taken place at Burntisland.” + +“At daybreak?” I cried, incredulous, “but why not wait till after +breakfast?” + +“And have all the world know?” she answered. “Why, Barbara, we must +not be seen. There is always the possibility that some wind may carry +the news to Stirling, where my Lord of Argyle and his dragoons lie in +wait. What would be easier for them than to intercept the Master and +his Command, either on their way hither, or on the return journey? +You see I know nothing, and this ignorance is torture to me. If David +is returned he is probably as ignorant of what happened after he left +Perth as I am. My brother may have started at once, and may be busy +even now at the harbour, or he may have waited till the dusk fell, +and be at this moment on the road. In that case I may just see him +to-morrow, which would be a consolation in itself, and get a word of +approbation from him for my part in this affair, which of course no one +else must know.” + +I suppose I looked as doubtful as I felt, for she went on persuasively. + +“I only wish for your company, my dear; there is naught for you to +do. Michael, the groom, will ride with us, and if necessary be our +protector. I want to see for myself what has been done, and to find +out about my brother. We shall wear masks and hoods, but indeed if any +strangers are about the town they will be those busy with the boats, +and the townsfolk would never think of molesting us.” + +“When do you mean to start?” I asked, with a sigh and a smile together. + +At that she kissed me and called me her dear, and her kind obliging +friend, and promised me all manner of favours, including her abiding +love, which was the only one I cared about. Then she told me how she +had already arranged everything, hoping, nay believing, that I would be +as agreeable as she had always found me. At four of the clock we were +to rise and dress, and slipping down the turret-stair, let ourselves +out by the door already mentioned. Michael was instructed to lead the +horses quietly, one by one, outside the gate, so that those in the +house should not be roused by the sound of our starting. She had placed +a pitcher of milk outside her window on the sill to keep it fresh, +and she had carried some bread up from the supper-table, so that in +the morning we should not ride out fasting. When all was expounded, +she promised to awaken me lest I should lie too late, and bade me go +straight to bed, and to sleep soundly. + +In the dark chill hour before the dawn, with the stars still shining +in the sky, and a cold wind stinging our faces and whipping the black +waters of the Frith into foamy crests, I own I did not think so well of +the expedition; but Betty possessed what few women have--determination +enough to carry a project through in spite of every obstacle, and as I +had committed myself to her guidance, I rode on beside her in dogged +disregard of discomfort, while Michael, the groom, jogged in the rear. + +Just before we came in sight of the town she drew near to me and, +speaking in her most persuasive tones, divulged what was really the +most important part of her enterprise. + +“I have been thinking,” said she, “that were we to draw near the town +on horseback, we should attract too much attention. Gentlewomen are not +given to riding abroad at this hour; so, Barbara, if you do not mind, +we will dismount by yonder dyke, and Michael will hold the horses under +cover of it for half-an-hour or so, while we go quickly into the town +to see and hear what we can. What say you, my dear?” + +Knowing that whatever I said ’twould make little difference, and being +too loyal to allow her to go alone, as well as too timorous to stay +behind, I murmured my agreement with her plan; and a few minutes later +we dismounted, and adjusting our masks, and drawing our plaids about +us, head and shoulders, in such a way that it were impossible for +anyone to know us for gentle or simple, we advanced quickly towards the +opening of the street which was at that moment silent and empty. + +As we came near a corner we heard the steps and voices of approaching +men, and without a moment’s hesitation we drew into the shadow of a +doorway and waited for them to pass. To our dismay, however, they +paused close by our hiding-place, and continued their conversation in +voices that betrayed to us that they were well-to-do townsfolk. + +“Ay!” said one, “’tis a sad mischance for poor Jock Wilson, but I would +ha’ thought the loon had as muckle sense as to ken what he was aboot. +It looks a’most as if he’d left his ship and a’ it contained, just for +anyone that liked to help himsel’.” + +“Man!” said the other, “’twas a gran’ venture! To come a’ the way frae +Perth in the night, and hae the work done afore folks were oot o’ +their beds. He’s a dour man, the Maister o’ Sinclair, but when there’s +a thing tae be done, he’s the man for it. But I’m wonderin’, Andrew, +hoo the deevil he cam’ tae hear o’ Jock Wilson’s boat. He hasna been +at Dysart this week back and mair, and the thing wasna kent afore +yestreen.” + +“Weel, weel!” said the first, “the Cause has its friends in the Kingdom +o’ Fife if anywhere in Scotland, and there’s ways and means o’ getting +knowledge. The Government made nae secret of what they were aboot, but +they didna reckon on Mistress Wilson’s lyin’-in. That was the cause o’ +the mischief, Jamie; a wumman at the bottom o’t, as usual.” And with +a laugh at his own jest the speaker moved on up the street, while his +companion entered the house exactly opposite to our doorway. Betty drew +near me and seized my arm. + +“You heard, Barbara,” she whispered; “the thing has succeeded. My +brother came from Perth early this morning, and is even now busy at the +harbour. Oh, how I wish I could see him, if only to tell him how proud +I am of his achievement! Come, child, I must go on! No one will molest +us, there will be other women about by this time, and I fancy the town +is too excited over what has taken place to have room for notice of us.” + +Quickly we stole into the street and hurried on. We met some people and +heard snatches of talk, but no one spoke to us, though one or two eyed +us curiously. Suddenly, on rounding a corner, we found ourselves in +an open space in which were a number of people, all talking excitedly +and in loud voices. Involuntarily we stopped, and in turning round to +retrace our steps we collided with a young gentleman who was moving in +our direction. He was dressed in uniform, and looked as if he had but +just staggered out of the adjoining tavern, as indeed he had. + +“Beg pardon, my dear,” he said in a thick voice, lurching near us and +trying to peer under the folds of our plaids. “Hullo! masks, by Jove! +Who’d ha’ thought it at this hour?” and he looked first at Betty and +then at me, as if not certain whether to hold us or to let us pass. + +“Excuse me, sir,” said Betty, in her haughtiest tone. “Can you direct +me to the Master of Sinclair?” + +“Sinclair, by gad! Direct you to Sinclair? No, I can’t, and I wouldn’t +if I could. Blesh my life, why should I? Sinclair’s done nothing for +me; rather keep you to myself, my chuck.” + +No words can express the horror that crept over me at this man’s look +and tone. I had seen often enough a gentleman in his cups. ’Twas not +thought so much of a disgrace as to be a matter of great concern to a +woman. But though I instinctively shrank from any man when fuddled +and bemused with wine, never in my life had the like condition aroused +in me such a sense of loathing. His eyes were heavy, yet insolent; his +face was flushed, and his loose lips wore a foolish smile. His words, +as they dropped from his slippery tongue, now came in a rush, now +halted painfully; and his breath, which was foul with wine, sickened me +as he puffed it in my face. + +“If you cannot be civil, sir,” cried Betty, enraged, but not the least +dismayed, “pray, let us pass.” + +“Don’ want to let you pass,” stammered our tormentor. “Too lovely, by +half! Come, lift your mask, my dear. Ball’s over, ’s time to sup.” +And with that he advanced to seize her; but Betty quickly slipping on +one side, the creature lost his balance and fell prone in the mud. In +falling, he clutched hold of my plaid, and, dragging it off my head, +dislodged my mask, which broke from its fastening and fell at my feet. +Not wishing to escape at the expense of leaving my warm covering in the +hands of this wretch, and unable to wrench it from his grasp, I stood +still and called piteously to Betty, who had sped a little way along +the street, believing me close behind her. In terror lest she should +get out of sight, and still more lest the man should succeed in rising +to his feet, I was standing thus, my heart beating in my throat, my +head bare, and tears of fright in my eyes, when another officer stepped +out of the tavern-door, and stared in amazement at the figures before +him. + +Only for a moment did he remain inactive (while I, with a curious throb +of relief, realised that a helper was at hand), then, as if reading the +whole in my white and horror-stricken face, he strode towards us, and, +with a sharp rap of his cane, loosed the hold of those rude hands upon +my dress. Standing stiff and tall above his recumbent comrade, he asked +in a very stern voice, “What does this mean, Mr. Wallace?” + +The other struggled to his feet; but his fall, instead of sobering +him, appeared to have left him still more fuddled, and also a little +aggressive. + +“I say, Tony,” he muttered, “tha’s my prize. Wha’ d’ you want here? No, +by Jove, ’s the other one I want--the brown-haired filly, where’s she +gone? Asked for the Master of Sinclair, she did. Pretty game, that, +for his Mastership to play, making assin--assig--nashus with lovely +ladies--six ’clock in the morning--” + +“You fool!” broke in Betty’s voice, and I found her at my elbow. “The +Master of Sinclair is my brother. Perhaps you, sir, if you are not also +drunk at six o’clock in the morning, can direct me to him.” + +The officer saluted her with grave respect. “I have had the honour of +being presented to you, Mistress Sinclair,” he said, “at the house of +the Earl of Wigton. My name is Anthony Fleming, and I am very much at +your service.” + +Betty gave a gasp of relief. + +“I remember you very well, Mr. Fleming,” she said, “now that I have +time to look at you, and I am grateful to you for appearing thus +opportunely to our help. Can you tell me whether my brother is still in +the town? Having heard a rumour of his coming from Perth last night, my +friend and I--let me present you to Mistress Barbara Stewart--rode over +this morning to have speech with him, and I was asking this _gentleman_ +to direct me to him, when he forgot himself.” + +Mr. Wallace was now standing somewhat sheepishly with his back against +the wall of the house, and Betty glanced at him scornfully and turned +away. As for me, I was still trembling, and the tears which I had +before restrained kept brimming to my eyes. + +“Madam,” said Mr. Fleming, and his eyes sought mine with a kind and +pitying glance, “I cannot sufficiently express my regret for the +annoyance and trouble you have had, and my brother-officer will, I am +sure, think and say the same when he is come to himself. I can only, +in his name, humbly beg your pardon. I fear your friend is still +suffering. If there is anything I could do--” + +“If you will direct us to my brother,” cried Betty, impatiently, “’tis +all I ask now.” + +“Madam,” said he, “I greatly regret that that is impossible. The Master +of Sinclair, after some splendid work, which I should like to tell you +of if there were time, quitted the town soon after four o’clock, and, +having left Mr. Wallace and myself in command of some troopers he has +installed in the Castle, is already well on his way back to Perth.” + +Betty’s face fell at this, although his words had pleased her. She was +about to reply when a great crowd of turbulent people, sailors and +fishermen, accompanied by women of the lowest sort, came reeling down +the street with shouts and laughter. Some of the men hustled me rudely +aside, whereupon Mr. Fleming sprang to my assistance, and, putting his +arm round my shoulders, stood thus to protect me until the crowd had +passed. + +“Pray, take us out of this, Mr. Fleming,” cried Betty imploringly. +“Right sorry am I that I ever brought myself or my companion into +such a mess; but I cannot be too thankful that you found us. Come, +Barbara, I am ready to go home and confess my sins and eat any amount +of humble-pie.” + +Mr. Anthony Fleming bent down to look at my face before he freed me +from his protecting arm. “Are you able to walk, madam?” he enquired +very kindly. “Will you not lean upon my arm?” But so comforting and +strength-giving had been his support that I was able to smile back at +him and assure him I felt perfectly well. He helped me to adjust my +plaid, and upon Betty’s informing him where we should find our horses, +in a very few minutes he had us clear of the town, and was walking +between us along the open road. + +“Tell me now, if you please, sir,” cried Betty, “what my brother has +been doing, and what brought him from Perth in such haste?” for, as she +told me later, she did not wish it to be known that she had had a hand +in the matter. + +“You must know, madam,” said our guide, “that yesterday, very early in +the morning, the Master of Sinclair was called out to the South Inch +to see a certain messenger, who had ridden all night from this place +to inform him that there was a ship lying in the Frith containing arms +and ammunition from the Castle of Edinburgh which had been shipped +at Leith, to be sent north for the use of the Earl of Sutherland. +The master of this vessel, he was told, was come ashore to see his +family, and did not intend to put to sea for another four-and-twenty +hours. Here was a chance, if the right man could be found, to supply +ourselves with weapons and bullets, of which we stand greatly in need. +Your brother was fired by the notion, and, bidding his friend rest, +and return home privately, keeping the matter secret, he went off to +the Earl of Mar and acquainted him with the story. I must own that +my lord delayed some hours in issuing the order, and I, meeting the +Master of Sinclair at one Hardy’s, a vintner in Perth, he told me what +was toward, and said that if he got the Command he hoped that I would +ride with him. Finally, the order being given in writing at last, we +left the town by five o’clock, a company of fourscore horse. We came +by cross-roads and by-paths, avoiding towns and villages, and got here +a little after midnight. The Master posted sentries about the town to +avoid surprises, and himself went to the harbour and very easily seized +some of the boats there. In these we rowed out to the ship and, though +the wind and tide were against us, succeeded in bringing her in. Your +brother, madam, stood in the water up to the middle of the leg and +received the arms into his own hands. Of these there were but three +hundred--” + +“Three hundred!” cried Betty, so sharply that I feared she would betray +herself. + +“Three hundred wanting one,” continued Mr. Fleming, “and we had +expected two or three thousand. ’Twas a great disappointment I must +own; but later we seized the arms of another big ship in the harbour, +and took also those of the Town-guard, and as they are now lodged, with +the ammunition we got, in the Castle which we are left to guard, I +think you may be satisfied with your brother’s work, madam.” + +“I wish there had been more,” she murmured discontentedly. + +“Why, madam, so do we; but ’tis better than nothing, and when the news +of the Master’s exploit is brought to the King, I’ll wager his Majesty +will be prodigiously pleased.” + +By this we had reached the rough dyke behind which our steeds were +ambushed, and were preparing to mount. Betty, who had listened to Mr. +Fleming’s words with a smile of approval, gave him her hand with a +grateful look. + +“His Majesty knows how to appreciate all his faithful subjects,” she +said softly, “and among them I am glad to count Mr. Anthony Fleming.” + +He bowed over her hand before raising it to his lips. Betty was looking +her brightest, I noticed, in spite of the cold, the agitation, the +fatigue, while Barbara, I felt sure, was at her worst; and I remember +regretting to have been seen at a disadvantage by this particular +gentleman, who, although he had been unknown to me half-an-hour before, +seemed more of a friend than many with whom I was well acquainted. + +“I count it a special mercy,” said Betty, as we rode away, “that we +fell in with that young man. Do you not think there is something very +attractive in his face?” + +“Why, yes,” cried Barbara, quickly. “I am sure it is the kindest face +in the world.” + +And from that day to this she has seen no reason to alter her opinion. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +TELLS OF VARIOUS MATTERS TO BE FOUND IN THE HISTORY-BOOKS, AND OF A +ROMANTIC TALE WHICH IS NOT + + +I have often thought that our mad escapade would not have been passed +over so lightly had the news we brought been less satisfactory. My lord +was never, I believe, made aware of the depths of our folly, and only +to my dear lady did I dare to relate our morning’s adventures, and +from her received the chiding I so richly deserved. To one other was +the affair confided by Betty, namely, to David Pitcairn. She told him +in my presence the same afternoon, and greatly was I astonished to see +him so much roused. For a moment or two he could scarcely speak, and +it was some time before we were able to understand the reason of his +displeasure. When at last ’twas explained, I felt that he had reason on +his side, and even Betty appeared struck by his words. + +He had accomplished his task on the Saturday night without hindrance, +arriving in Perth early on Sunday morning, and arranging, as we knew, +an interview with the Master. He now told us that, after the latter had +acquainted the Earl of Mar with the good tidings, my lord expressed +a desire to see for himself the bearer of them, and the Master of +Sinclair had followed Mr. Pitcairn about the town until he could set +his lordship’s wishes before him. At first our friend David demurred, +saying he could tell my lord no more than he had already divulged, but +finally he consented, and was borne to the Earl’s presence; but beyond +the fact that my lord had received him graciously, and asked him a +number of questions as to the size of the ship and the quantity of arms +on board, we got little out of him on that point. + +“He asked me,” said David, “if it were possible to ride from Perth +to Burntisland avoiding towns and villages, and when I told him yes, +‘Then,’ said he, ‘will you act as guide to the convoy?’ But upon my +informing him that the Master of Sinclair and Mr. Malcome knew the +country every whit as well as I, he said, ‘Very well, perhaps there was +no need of a guide.’” + +David left Perth at ten o’clock, and having rested for some hours +at the house of a friend about half-way home, was able to join the +expedition when it was within three miles of its goal. He was full +of praise for the Master and for one or two of the gentlemen who +accompanied him, among whom it pleased me to hear him mention Mr. +Fleming, but the rabble they commanded were, he said, some of the +worst that could be imagined. Sentries were placed about the town, but +no sooner were the officer’s backs turned, than these undisciplined +Highlanders left their posts and scampered off to the taverns and +wine-shops, and there had ensued such rioting and confusion as had made +of the town a perfect pandemonium. How we had escaped much worse injury +and insult than we suffered he could not imagine, “except,” as he said, +with a look at Betty both angry and tender, “it was true that a special +Providence guarded daft folk and bairns.” + +Indeed I shuddered at some of the things he told us, among them +the fact that the drunken men, upon being called to order by their +officers, the latter narrowly escaped being shot by these wretches, +many of whom could not understand a word of any language but the Gaelic. + +“I thank my stars,” said David, “that I have nothing to do with such +a crew, and since they left the town in the morning we have heard sad +tales of their raiding the country-side, and plundering the poor folk +on their way back to Perth.” + +I cannot but say that our spirits were much dashed by this +intelligence, and our triumph did not seem quite so brilliant as it had +appeared that morning. For some hours after it left me sad, and Betty +very thoughtful. + +But events were hurrying forward, and in the next few days much was +accomplished for the Cause. We heard with delight that the Master of +Sinclair had been sent into Fife with a body of horse, both to seize +any arms that could be found, and also to set up the King’s Standard +in the small towns round the coast. This he accomplished with ease, +beginning at Cupar, and going from St. Andrews to Kirkcaldy, he took +possession of each town in the name of the King, thus making our party +masters of the whole of the north coast of the Firth of Forth. To the +grief and chagrin of Betty, her brother did not present himself at home +for more than a passing call of a few minutes, so that she was not able +to hear nor to give any news. But to our great joy, Sir John, who was +riding in the Master’s Command, decided to return to Dysart instead of +proceeding at once to Perth, and surprised us by appearing one evening +about supper-time, well and hearty and with news to tell. + +It was from him that we learned of the designed project of sending a +large body of men across the Frith to the Lothians, so that they might +march south, and eventually join the rising in Northumberland. + +’Twould take too long were I to tell you of the exciting days that +followed, while boats were chartered in all the small fishing villages, +and secretly brought to Crail from whence the crossing was to start. +Mr. Harry Crawford it was that had the bringing of the boats together, +and as there were upwards of two thousand men to be conveyed, you can +imagine that the task was no light one. Now as there were several ships +of war lying at Leith, and the custom-house smacks were constantly +moving about in the Frith, my Lord of Mar ordered that a small number +of men should march to Burntisland and make a feint of embarking +there, to attract the attention of the Government boats. Meanwhile, +protected by a screen of Cavalry under the command of Sir John Erskine +and Sir James Sharp, the main body got off under cover of night, +from Crail and Elie and Pittenweem. As a certain number were obliged +to wait till the next night, however, the design was made known by +spies to the Government ships, which immediately set sail to intercept +them. Fortunately a contrary wind detained them, so that only one of +our boats was taken, but several were forced to return to the coast +of Fife. One company of three hundred men under command of my Lord +Strathmore, with the Laird of Barafield as his Lieutenant, was obliged +to land on the Isle of May, where they were detained for several days. +When threatened by the ships of war, they made a most determined stand, +and the young earl, himself scarce more than a schoolboy, behaved in +a heroic manner. Not only did he hold his men in check when some of +them were for surrendering, but he exhibited the greatest courage and +self-denial during their detention; and when the opportunity came at +length of getting off in boats to return to Crail, he was the last to +leave the island. How our hearts kindled when we heard of his brave +conduct from the Master, who had for this young nobleman an unbounded +admiration. + +The success of this project, and the landing of our men on the coast +of Haddington, threw the good people of Edinburgh into such a state of +panic that the Lord Provost at once ordered out the City Guards, the +Trained Bands, and the new Levies of Volunteers for the defence of the +city and the prevention of any disturbance therein. He also took the +precaution to send an express to the Duke of Argyle at Stirling, who +without delay marched post-haste to the Capital accompanied by three +hundred chosen dragoons. As the Highlanders, under the brave Brigadier +Mackintosh, had marched to Leith and entrenched themselves in the old +citadel there, his Grace, who had left his cannons, gunners, mortars +and bombardiers all behind at Stirling, could do little to dislodge +them, save calling upon them as rebels to lay down their arms and +surrender, upon pain of High Treason. This they very resolutely refused +to do, and the Duke not being able to make a better of it, retired to +Edinburgh to begin preparations. + +Mackintosh, however, having managed to send off two letters to my +Lord Mar, by the cunning expedient of pretending to fire upon the +boats that bore them, as though he mistook them for the enemy, that +nobleman ordered a body of horse under command of my Lord of Drummond +to march from Perth upon Stirling, so as to draw, if possible, the +Duke of Argyle from pursuit of the Highlanders in the Lothians. As the +Master of Sinclair was one of that party, we heard later of how the +matter was carried out, how they rode in heavy rain and bitter cold to +Dunblane, did nothing there, and marched back to Perth on hearing of +the arrival of Argyle at Stirling. I have no doubt, knowing my lady’s +brother so well, that he did his best to set them right in no very +agreeable way; howbeit I have heard since then some trenchant remarks +on the supine behaviour of the Earl of Mar on this occasion, so I am +aware that the Master was not angry altogether without cause. A General +with more self-confidence, it was said, would have occupied Stirling +ere the Duke had time to reach it. As for Mackintosh of Borlum, he +entrenched himself first at Seton House, where he remained some days; +but shortly afterwards, having received answers to his letters from my +Lord Mar, he pushed on towards Kelso, and later as you know, crossed +over into England. An incident took place on his march south which, +coming to the ears of my Lady Erskine, greatly grieved her. This was +the plundering of Hermiston House, the seat of her uncle, Dr. Sinclair, +who had incurred the resentment of the Jacobite party very early in the +rising. The fierce old Brigadier would even have set fire to the place, +but being dissuaded from this extreme measure by some of the gentler +spirits, he gave permission to the Highlanders to sack the house, who +readily plundered it of every valuable thing that could be carried +away. Such strange and vexatious doings take place in a country when it +is divided against itself. + +The events which I have mentioned took place rapidly one after another, +but did not in any way affect our lives at Dysart, save that from early +morn till late night we existed in a turmoil of excitement, never +knowing what should transpire, and expecting all manner of wonderful +things to happen, from the arrival at our door of King James himself, +to the willing abdication of King George in London. + +One morning, however, a despatch was brought to my lady, which proved +to be from Sir John in Perth, in which he recommended her to leave her +father’s house and return to Alva, where, he said, were many things +requiring her care. This my lady, at all times ready to obey her lord, +was very willing to do, and although it grieved us all to leave our +kind friends at Dysart, we knew that our visit, already lengthy, could +not last for ever. By order of the Earl of Mar, as Sir John writ in +his letter, an officer from the garrison at Burntisland Castle, with a +small company, was to escort my lady’s carriage all the way to Alva, +in order to prevent, as he said, any surprise or discourtesy from the +Dragoons of Argyle who constantly patrolled the roads; and although the +precaution turned out to be wholly unnecessary, my lady was flattered +by the attention, and pleased at the kindness of the thought. + +The officer told off for this honorary duty was, to my great relief, +our friend, Mr. Anthony Fleming. + +“What should I have felt,” I murmured to Betty, on his arrival at the +door of the Hermitage, “had it been Mr. Wallace?” + +“Less confidence in the security of your journey than you do now, I +suppose,” was her shrewd reply. “But I am grieved that our good friend +should be soaked to the skin, while the other is warm and dry in +barracks.” + +The season had indeed set in very wet, and our chief difficulty in +returning to Alva lay in the badness of the roads which made our +progress extremely slow. The rain poured down without ceasing, and +several times our heavy coach stuck fast in the clogging mud; and our +escort, instead of keeping the enemy at bay with swords and pistols, +were obliged to dismount, and by dint of their united strength +extricate us from the ruts. At such times we inside the coach could +hear Mr. Fleming’s firm, pleasant voice as he directed and encouraged +his men, and once he rode up to the carriage window to apologise to my +lady for the delay. + +This civility struck her as so unnecessary that she laughed very +heartily as she replied, “Nay, my dear Mr. Fleming, I feel rather that +it is my place to apologise to you for obliging you to employ your +soldiers in so trivial a manner. Confess that you would rather they +should encounter half a hundred dragoons, and rout them at the point of +the sword!” + +“Oh, madam,” he answered, with his kind eyes smiling at us both, “a +soldier learns very early in his career to call nothing in the way of +duty _trivial_. The rain is unavoidable, the roads are bad; let us +trust the weather is too inclement to allow of Argyle’s scouts delaying +us any further.” + +“That,” said my lady, as he turned away, “is a young man who will go +far, if God spares his life through these turmoils. My lord speaks +well of him, my dear husband regards him with affection, and even my +brother, the Master, has nothing spiteful to say of him.” + +How my heart warmed at his praise perhaps it would be foolish to +mention, for, as you will see, the young gentleman was at this time +scarce even to be called an acquaintance. But ’tis true that some +are our friends from the first look and word, and no thought but of +kindness and sympathy ever enters our minds concerning them. Because of +his timely help to me that morning in Burntisland, I looked upon Mr. +Fleming with a peculiar feeling of respect and gratitude, with which +was mingled an almost unconscious trust in his goodness and truth. That +our instincts in these matters occasionally mislead us, many poor women +have had bitter proof, but to you who know what my life has been, I do +not require to say that in Barbara’s case no such mistake was made. + +“Mr. Fleming,” said I, “is kinsman to the Earl of Wigton, is he not, +madam?” + +“Ay,” she answered, “he is, and but for an untoward accident would one +day be in the Earl’s place.” + +“Indeed, madam,” cried I, more for the pleasure of hearing my friend +spoke of, than from any great curiosity about his family. “What +accident was that, pray?” + +“’Tis a romantic tale,” said my lady, “and sorrowful too, as romance is +apt to be, but I will tell it you to beguile the tedium of this weary +road, seeing we cannot fall asleep like Phemie and my little sons.” And +she eyed the sleeping children fondly. + +“You must know,” she went on, “that the present Earl’s grandfather +had seven sons, of whom five died unmarried. William, the fifth son, +succeeded his eldest brother John, whose only child was a daughter, +Lady Jean, married to Lord Panmure. But the fourth brother, Tom, who +died nearly fifty years ago, left a son who is the father of our friend +here, Mr. Anthony. This Thomas, I have heard my lord say, was one of +those pleasing but irresponsible persons who are said to be no one’s +enemy but their own. He was handsome, gay, and clever, but selfish, +thoughtless, and wanting in ballast. It seems he made the acquaintance +of a young lady, the daughter of a respectable merchant in London, and +either by false representations, or specious promises, induced her to +run away with him, intending, as he solemnly averred afterwards, to +make her his lawful wife at his earliest convenience. He left her after +a few months in a small village in Hampshire, while he returned to +London, and entered again into all his social pleasures; but letters +passed constantly between them, and the forsaken girl seems to have +believed thoroughly in his integrity, for she made no complaint to her +family, being satisfied to trust and be patient. At last, however, she +knew it would be fatal to delay further, and for the sake of her unborn +child she wrote to her lover a passionate appeal desiring him to return +at once and right her in the eyes of the world. There must have been +something in this letter that touched the heart of Thomas Fleming, for +directly upon receipt of it, he set off post-haste for Hampshire. But +alas! within twenty miles of London his chaise was overturned, and he +himself so badly injured that he was unable to pursue his journey. +Being carried into a friendly house upon the road, he learned from the +surgeon that he had not many hours to live. His grief and sorrow were +great, not so much, as he said, for his own sake, though life was sweet +to him, as for the sake of the woman who had trusted him, and the child +that he would never see. Whatever there was of good and noble in the +poor man, came out in these last hours of his life. He implored those +round him to send swift messengers first to his brother William, who +fortunately at that time was living in London, and also to the father +of the poor girl he had wronged. They obeyed the summons without delay, +and were lucky enough to reach the house in time to hear his full +confession, and to promise their help and protection to her who was in +the sight of Heaven his wife. The poor father who was bowed down with +grief ever since the loss of his daughter, was so touched with the +genuine remorse and repentance of the dying man that he accorded him +his forgiveness in a very Christian spirit, which allowed the other at +least to die in peace.” + +“And what of the poor lady?” I asked, much moved by this tale of love +and wrong. “Did she also forgive the wretch?” + +“Alas! my dear, she loved him,” said my lady. + +“But one is almost thankful to know that she did not live long to +suffer the consequences of his perfidy. The shock of his death was too +much for her, and three days after the birth of her little son she +passed quietly away. She had the comfort, however, of knowing that +her child was safe in the care of his grandfather and uncle. The old +Earl also, who was still alive, acknowledged the boy, and sanctioned +his bearing the name, though to be sure the bar sinister prevents him +ever inheriting the title. He carries on the business of his maternal +grandfather in London, and is now a man of wealth and standing. +He married the only daughter of a Suffolk baronet--a beauty and a +fortune--and Anthony Fleming is their son.” + +The close of this interesting tale brought us to Tillicoultry, the +little village nearest to Alva on the eastern side, and soon afterwards +we found ourselves at home. + +We were received at the door by Mr. Peck, John Harley and Mr. Rose, +all very glad and thankful to see my lady returned, for many untoward +events were happening, and they had been sore perplexed how to conduct +themselves in her absence. The country-side was in a sad state it +seemed, for the Government soldiers made free with the property of the +inhabitants, no matter on which side their sympathies might be. Mr. +Rose had already lost some considerable quantity of fodder, as well as +numerous hens and ducks; also sheep and cattle not being safe in the +fields, he had been obliged to drive them all within the enclosures +near the house, and had men set to guard them night and day. + +“And indeed, my lady,” said Mr. Peck, “the enemy are so cautious and +their plans so well-laid that the whole neighbourhood can do little +against them, for they place their sentries so skilfully that not once +have they been discovered nor surprised in their depredations.” + +This was not a cheerful aspect of things to be presented to us on our +return home, and no doubt my lady’s heart sank as she realized what +was before her. It was not however her way to sit down and bemoan her +troubles, and she busied herself in giving orders for the comfort of +our rain-drenched escort, who were to rest for some hours at Alva +before taking the road back to Burntisland. Indeed, as the rain had +somewhat abated and it promised to be a clear moonlight night, Mr. +Fleming remarked that, with her ladyship’s permission, the later they +were of starting the better. With this my lady agreed, and on her +telling the young gentleman that she would be glad of his company at +supper, we dispersed to our various occupations and duties. + +A little before the time for that meal, having arranged the things in +my chamber, and assisted Phemie in getting the children’s affairs in +order, I came downstairs and entered the dining-hall, expecting to find +my lady already there. The table was set, but the room was lit only by +the flames from the coal-fire, which threw long shadows across the wall +and ceiling. On entering the room I thought it had been empty, but as +I turned to leave it, a tall form rose from the seat at the corner of +the hearth, and Mr. Fleming’s voice spoke my name. I came forward again +slowly. + +“Will you not give me the pleasure of your company, Mistress Barbara,” +he said, “for the few minutes before supper. Although this is the third +time we have met, I do not think you have ever done me the honour to +address me.” + +“Then, indeed, sir,” said I, forgetting my shyness, “you may well +wonder at my manners. But it has been my great desire ever since our +first troubled meeting, to offer you my heartfelt thanks for your kind +assistance that morning.” + +He stood looking down at me very kindly, and yet his face bore an +expression which I did not understand. + +“Were it not that it gave me the pleasure of an introduction to you, +madam,” he said, “I could heartily wish that you had never needed it.” + +“Truly,” said I, “’twas not a pleasant experience, but I must own I +brought it upon myself. ’Twas a madcap adventure at best, and since we +have known more fully the risks we ran, both Mistress Betty and I have +had the grace to be ashamed of our temerity.” + +“Indeed, the risks were much greater than you thought,” he answered +gravely. “I can only be thankful that I arrived upon the scene when I +did.” + +“I had never in my life been really frightened before,” said I, “but +when I felt that man’s hot breath on my cheek as he fell, clutching my +plaid with his hands, I thought I should have died of terror.” + +“Faugh!” exclaimed Mr. Fleming, “I cannot bear to think of it!” + +“And when I lifted my eyes and saw you,” I continued, but steps now +sounded without, and a servant entered the room, bearing candles which +he placed upon the board. I moved a little further from the fireplace, +but Mr. Fleming made a step forward and stopped me. + +“Yes,” he said eagerly, “when you saw me--what then?” + +“I knew I need fear no longer,” said I simply. + +He took my hand and kissed it gravely. + +“That, madam, is a speech that any man may be proud to hear from a +woman. I thank you, and I shall never forget it.” + +Among those bidden to supper by my lady on this first night came Mr. +James Hamilton, and as at this moment he entered the room his eyes +lighted immediately on me, and he came smiling up to greet me. + +“Welcome back to Alva, Mistress Barbara Stewart!” he cried, bowing +before me. “The winter is approaching, ’tis true, but you bring the +light and warmth of summer in your train.” + +Now a few months back this fulsome speech would doubtless have pleased +me well, and set me trying to answer the gentleman in the same vein, +but to-night it seemed mere empty compliment--too blatant to be in +good taste--and it vexed me that Mr. Fleming, who was standing near, +should hear it. I tried to answer coldly, but Mr. Hamilton was at once +too good-humoured and too conceited to believe himself snubbed; he +therefore took my scorn for coquetry, and redoubled his attentions. +Mr. Fleming, after waiting for some minutes, as if wishing to continue +our conversation, evidently considered himself dismissed and strolled +off to the other side of the room. As he was placed on my lady’s right +hand at supper, and I sat at the other end of the table, I had no +further opportunity of speaking to him, and was obliged to conceal my +chagrin as best I might. Mr. Hamilton plied me with friendly questions, +to which I made random answers, and before the end of the meal I fell +so silent that my lady, believing me worn out, withdrew as soon as +possible, taking me with her from the room. In the hall outside she +kissed me kindly and bade me go at once to bed. + +Half-an-hour later, while I still lingered over my disrobing, I heard +below the sounds of our escort departing. Softly I opened my casement, +and having extinguished the taper, I leaned out. The moon was hidden +and I could see but little. I heard the trampling of the horses, the +gruff tones of the men, the jingling of the bridles, and an occasional +laugh. Next came the voice of Mr. Fleming bidding my lady adieu, and +his quick spurs ringing on the stones of the court-yard. Then I heard +the order to mount, the heavy swing of the men into their saddles, +the horses’ hoofs striking the stones as the troop moved off into the +night. The moon sailed out from behind the clouds, and just then their +Captain turned and looked back at the house. In an agony of startled +modesty I shrank away from the window, and crouched upon the floor +until the sound of their going had died away. As I knelt to say my +prayers, I remember wondering if I should ever see Mr. Anthony Fleming +again--I believe I prayed that God would bless him whether I did or no. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +SHOWS HOW WE ARE SWEPT INTO THE STREAM OF EVENTS + + +We had scarce been at home a day, when we seemed to be drawn into the +current that was setting towards active warfare, whether we would or no. + +Not content with doing her best to guard her own property, my Lady +Erskine was diligent to lend what help she could to our party in +various ways. Having heard from her brother at Perth of an expedition +being sent, under Major Graham, to levy a cess, as it was called, +in Dunfermline, which, being a Whiggish town, was not too ready to +pay taxes to King James, she sent out scouts from among her trusted +servants, who were to pick up information in a private way, and had +orders from her to act according to what they heard. My Lady Alva +being much beloved by the country-folk, and on good terms with all +her neighbours, her people had little difficulty in learning the +doings of both parties, and acted with no little discretion in several +emergencies. On this occasion the force from Perth made the mistake of +taking their way among the hills so as to avoid the direct road, and in +so doing passed “under the nose,” as the Master put it, of the small +garrison placed by the Duke of Argyle in Castle Campbell above the +little village of Dollar. The reason of this detour we were never able +to understand, for, as a natural consequence, news of the expedition +was immediately sent to the Duke at Stirling, who ordered Colonel +Cathcart with a party of dragoons to start at once for the threatened +town. This coming to my lady’s ears, she despatched a trusty servant on +a fleet horse to warn Major Graham of the movements of the enemy; and +we all awaited his return with some anxiety, which greatly increased +when three days had passed and the worthy man had not returned home. My +lady was making up her mind to send a second messenger after the first, +when early in the morning of the fourth day, poor Andrew arrived at the +house, hungry and cold and much crest-fallen. Upon my lady bidding him +into her presence, and asking the reason of his tardy return, he told a +tale which caused his mistress much chagrin, and covered the narrator +himself with confusion. + +Colonel Cathcart, it seems, had reached the town before him, but not +caring to enter it until the middle of the night, he with his dragoons +lay without the walls in the dark, sending spies hither and thither to +bring him word as to how things were within. Into this watchful company +poor Andrew, all unwittingly, fell; and while they did not ill-treat +him they took from him his horse, and by dint of threats compelled him +to act as guide to those who would enter the town. This they did about +two o’clock in the morning, and as it seems the gentlemen were all +abed, and the watch very carelessly kept, the enemy were among them +before they were aware. Some few were killed, and Colonel Cathcart took +eighteen gentlemen prisoners. He did not wait to follow up his success, +but the result was the same as if he had done so, for the startled +invaders waited not to reason or to fight, but fled from the place on +horse or on foot until all were escaped in various directions. Our poor +Andrew was carried back to Stirling by the dragoons, kept in durance +for two nights and a day, and on disclosing his name and occupation was +liberated early on the second morning and bidden to make his way home. + +I think I have never seen my lady so angry as she became upon the +recital of this shameful tale. The carelessness and indifference of +the King’s officers, sent upon so important a mission, appeared to her +criminal in a high degree. Such waste of life and loss of property, +where a little foresight and military precision would have saved all, +rankled in her mind and set her brain and heart on fire. But angry as +she was, it did not prevent her making the attempt to save another +party sent on a like errand, under Lord George Murray, a week or +two later, and this time her interference was crowned with success. +Our good Andrew was again her emissary; and he not only succeeded +in reaching the town in time to warn Lord George of the approach of +the dragoons, but made the attempt by his own observation to further +benefit our party a little. He returned to Alva without delay, and in +high disgust informed his mistress that his entry into Dunfermline had +been all too easy, for not a single sentry was set, and no opposition +was made, nor question put to the visitor. My lady shared the good +man’s righteous indignation. + +“Are they _all_ fools in my Lord Mar’s army?” she exclaimed in great +vexation. “Sure, never was so much negligence shown, or such ignorance +allowed to flourish. I heartily wish we might take an example by the +enemy, who, as you know, place sentries in all the passages of the +hills within two miles of this house, when taking away my corn and +straw. This news of their carelessness shall reach the Earl’s ears +before many hours are over, for I shall write a letter to my brother +this very day, with the request to have it shown at headquarters.” + +Which she accordingly did, and sent it to the Master by a sure hand; +but whether it produced the effect she desired, we had no opportunity +of judging. + + * * * * * + +One afternoon in the beginning of November, having returned from +walking abroad with Phemie and the little boys who were anxious to +visit their favourite haunts before the winter set in, I found my dear +Lady Erskine seated in her own room with a letter in her lap and the +traces of tears upon her face. I ran to her, eager to know the reason +of her grief, but she would not suffer me to condole with her. + +“Indeed, I am but a foolish woman, my dear,” she said with a smile, +though her voice quivered, “and not fit to be the wife of an officer +immersed in affairs. Here is Sir John sent off to France at very short +notice, and Heaven knows when we shall see him again! I ought to feel +glad and proud that he is trusted with business of so great moment; but +I must own the thought of being without him for so many weeks is very +bitter to me.” + +“Oh, and to me too, madam!” I cried foolishly. “The house is not the +same without him. Pray, cousin, is this important business a secret, or +may I know what it is?” + +“’Tis not to be talked of to all and sundry,” my lady replied, “but +you may see here what he says for your own satisfaction,” and she gave +me the letter, pointing to these words which Sir John had written. +“_Having orders from Mar to presse the King’s coming, and the sending +over officers, arms and ammunition, and in particular to inform Earl +Bolingbroke how much all these are wanted._” + +“An onerous task truly,” sighed my lady, “and I pray God he may +succeed; and above all that he may be kept from harm, and brought safe +back to us who love him.” + +“Amen!” cried I fervently, greatly impressed by the importance of Sir +John’s mission, and realising full well my lady’s sorrow at being thus +parted from her husband. + +“I think the heaviest end of my burden,” said she, “lies in the fact +that under the circumstances his letters to me may be long delayed, +and mine may never reach him. You see here he was despatched upon the +28th October, and ’tis now the 6th day of November, yet this letter has +never left Britain. Situated as we are, Sir John being an agent in the +Jacobite interests, he cannot trust his papers and despatches to the +common post nor, can I address letters openly to him, who has reason +for keeping his movements private. This, Barbara, I foresee, will +constitute one of my worst troubles in the coming time. It is no little +relief for one so indeterminate as myself to be able to pour out my +difficulties on paper to him who is my best friend, and to be certain +of receiving sympathy and counsel and safe advice in return.” + +“Sir John does not say when he will return, madam?” I asked. + +“Alas! child, he probably knows as little about that as we do. My only +comfort is, that for the moment he is out of danger, should the Earl +of Mar decide to give battle as my brother in his last epistle gives a +hint of.” + +“He talked of the Earl coming south did he not?” + +“Ay, he intends to cross over the Forth above Stirling into the +Lowlands, and so march into England to join the friends there. My +brother, to be sure, sees a hundred difficulties and dangers, the +chief being the impossibility of making use of the fords in face of +the enemy, for the Duke of Argyle has them very well guarded, and as +we heard yesterday has cut the bridge of Doune which is the only way +to reach them; how it will end, I know not. The country is already +bare and destitute, and the poor folk reduced almost to beggary. They +tremble at the rumours of a horde of wild Highlandmen being let loose +upon them, for brave and loyal as the clansmen are, Barbara, they +are a rough and undisciplined set, and were it for nothing else but +to satisfy their hunger they must needs make raids upon many of the +peaceful farms and cottages.” + +“Truly,” said I soberly, “civil war is a grievous thing, and the +working out of King James’s Restoration is not quite the exciting +romance I foolishly pictured it.” + +“They are to march from Perth by Dunning, Auchterarder and Dunblane,” +said my lady, “so that we are luckily not in the direct route. But +with several thousand horse and foot sweeping along in one direction, +many will spread out over the hills and may even be diverted into this +road to reach the south, should their passage of the Fords of Forth +prove impossible. We can but take all precautions for the safety of the +stockin’, and be you very careful, child, to keep close to the house +these days lest any harm befall you.” + +Not the least of the troubles for the country folk at this time was the +wintry weather which now began, for a frost so severe and so continuous +set in, that their privations were greatly increased. On the night of +the tenth there was a slight sprinkling of snow, which was only the +forerunner of the heavy storms that all that winter continued to fall. +Aunt Betty Erskine, who was with us, suffered much from the cold, +which with the sad state of matters in the country afforded her ample +grounds for grumbling and discontent; but my lady bore it all with +exemplary patience, her mind in truth being fully occupied with other +matters. + +We were living in a state of expectation, not unmixed with dread, for +no one knew what might take place next. + +My Lord Mar and his army could not, we judged, remain much longer +inactive at Perth. Indeed there were already impatient voices heard +condemning him for the lack of energy, or the excess of caution, +which kept him from coming to issues with the Duke of Argyle. The +latter nobleman was lodged in his own house at Stirling (the Earl of +Stirling’s mansion, as it was still called, tho’ it had now belonged +to the Argyle family for about fifty years) at the head of the Castle +Wynd, and his forces lay in the King’s Park. His design was to prevent +the Insurgents getting besouth Forth, and being a good General he kept +himself well informed by his spies and scouts of all the movements +going on at Perth. + +I need not tell you now, who are by no means ignorant of the history +of your country, that the remembrance of those November days and all +that occurred in them is fraught with humiliation to me. The Battle of +Sheriffmuir has long ago become a word of scorn in the ears of Whig +and Jacobite alike. The tears caused by its tragedy (for no battle is +wanting in that element) were scarcely dried, ere the humour of it +struck the common people, who, whatever our English friends may say +(and I have often heard the Scots accused of melancholy and gloom) are +not slow to perceive the comic side of a thing. It became the subject +of much ribald rhyme, and the great men engaged on either side were not +spared by the rhymsters. But without stopping to give you my comments +on this unlucky affair, I will try to tell you what happened in our +own small sphere, in which I well remember we experienced as much +excitement, terror, anxiety and amazement, as if we had been witnesses +of the entire drama. + +On Saturday afternoon, the 12th day of November, one of my lady’s +messengers, who were posted secretly among the hills and on the roads, +came in hot haste to say that a mighty host, horse and foot, was on +the road between Auchterarder and Dunblane. Scarcely had we realised +the significance of these tidings, when another arrived with the news +that the Duke of Argyle had marched out from Stirling about noon, and +was also approaching Dunblane from the other side. What consternation +ensued among us! Were they each aware, we wondered, of the other’s +proximity, or would they fall upon each other without warning? My +lady, whose faith in my Lord Mar’s skill as a General was not so great +as she could have wished, felt tolerably certain that the meeting, +if it occurred, would come as a surprise to their side at least. She +therefore sent off a trusty man, a shepherd, swift of foot and well +acquainted with the hills, to find her brother who was with the Earl, +and deliver him a letter in which she gave him as much information as +possible of Argyle’s movements. This the shepherd, Allan Maclean, had +orders to deliver to the Master of Sinclair only if he found the army +dangerously near Dunblane and all unwarned. The messenger despatched, +my lady set us all to work, preparing food, baking bread, brewing +cordials, looking out old garments, and in every way she could think +of making ready for emergencies should a battle be fought in our +neighbourhood. + +It was quite dark and about nine of the clock when Allan returned, not +having reached Lord Mar’s army. He had been told by several of the +country folk upon the roads that my Lady Kippendavie had already sent +to warn them early in the afternoon, and the leaders had decided to +bivouack for the night in a hollow place near the little village of +Kinbuck. Here, as we were told afterwards by the Master, eight thousand +men were packed into so small a space, that “it could not,” he wrote, +“be properly said they had a front or a rear, more than it can be said +of a barrel of herrings.” By the kindness of Providence it did not +occur to my Lord of Argyle to plan an attack that night, otherwise, as +our informant told us, the entire force might have been slaughtered +almost before they could defend themselves. The horses were picketted +in the small kailyards of two farm-houses, while the officers found +quarters where they could in house or barn. It was a bitter cold +night, the frost being very hard, and many a time I waked to think +of the poor men of both armies shivering under the stars. But such +privations were common, I knew, in time of war, and worse would surely +follow. + +The next day being Sunday, we rose with mingled feelings, not knowing +what the day might bring forth. Very early came a lad with a message +for my lady from the minister, to say that, “There wad be nae Sabbath +the day.” This meant, as you know, that the church was not open, and +that no services were held either at Alva or in any of the neighbouring +parishes, the people all being gone out to _see the battle_. To my +lady, ever of a serious and pious nature, this proceeding did not +commend itself. + +“For where,” she asked, “was it more fitting we should spend our time, +or carry our burdens on such a day, than into the House of God?” + +But as the ministers were gone after their flocks, no bells were rung +and the church doors remained closed. + +As the hours wore on, we heard from time to time items of news which +gave us some idea of the proceedings taking place within a few miles +of the house. A spur of the Ochils, as you will remember, lies between +Alva and Dunblane, but by climbing the hills a good view could be had +of all the country round. On a clear winter day, such as this was, one +could see for many miles, and it was plain to our watchers that about +noon the two armies had met on the rising ground of Sheriffmuir and +that the fighting had begun. The noise of the cannon and fusils was +plain to be heard in the frosty air, and sent panic into our hearts, +for we were new to the idea of war; and now that the worst had come, +I, for one, was no more anxious for the destruction of the Government +troops than of those on our own side. Oh, indeed I fear that little of +the world’s fighting would have been done had it been left to the women +to decide, and yet I know not in truth if they could have devised any +better method for settling many difficulties. + +With my lady’s leave, I climbed the hill in company with Mr. Rose, the +grieve, and sat there during the short afternoon, my eyes fixed upon +the distant scene in a strange turmoil of hope and fear. Little could +I see save the smoke of the guns, and masses of men moving or running +among the undulating hills, in what seemed a very aimless way. But the +noise of the firing, the clash of steel, the wild hoarse cries of the +Highlanders as they rushed on their foes, made strange clamour in the +peaceful upper air of that un-Sabbathlike Sunday afternoon. It would +require the pen of a person skilled in warfare to explain the movements +of both armies from so great a distance, for to me it was mostly +confusion, and I scarce knew what I expected to see when I begged to +be allowed to climb the hill. Perhaps I imagined a mighty host from +the north rushing furiously upon the Government troops, so that in the +course of an hour or so they should be completely annihilated, or only +a remnant left to cry quarter, as the Earl of Mar pushed triumphant on +to Stirling Castle. If so, I was mightily disappointed, for as dusk +fell it seemed that the fighting ceased; both parties appeared to +stand at gaze, motionless themselves, but watching for the movements +of the other. Then Argyle’s men were seen to draw off along the road +to Dunblane, and the Earl of Mar’s army marched slowly away northwards +towards Ardoch. + +“Is it finished?” I cried to Mr. Rose, rising to my feet. “Is this all? +Which side has won? Will they fight again to-morrow?” + +For so quickly had the end come, that I was plunged in amazement and +perplexity, and could scarce realise that I had been witness of a +genuine battle. + +The grieve shook his head doubtfully. + +“Deed, missy, I couldna say,” he answered. “But it’s time ye were back +in the hoose wi’ my lady, I’m thinkin’.” + +And stiff with the cold, and burdened with a dull weight of +apprehension which I did not understand, I made my way down the hill +which was now shrouded in darkness. + +I found the house in the deepest gloom, for to my surprise not a +lantern or taper had been lit, and as I mounted the stairs I heard the +sound of loud weeping coming from one of the rooms of which the door +was open. I entered quickly and a curious scene met my eyes. My lady +was seated upon a couch, little Hal whimpering on her knees, while +Charles leant against her side and gazed fearfully up in her face. +Phemie stood silent and grim beside her, while all the other women of +the house, some in attitudes of despair upon the floor, some supporting +each other in their arms, were sobbing and wailing as if the last day +had come. My lady’s face was a study, so white, so set, so stern, and +with eyes fixed in a stare so fateful, that for a moment my heart was +in my mouth, as the saying is, and I imagined nothing less than that +the awful tidings of the death of Sir John had reached her. At the +thought I rushed into the room, crying out, + +“For Heaven’s sake, madam, what is amiss? Pray, Phemie, bid those women +hold their peace, and tell me what has happened. Is it Sir John? Why +looks my lady so?” + +While Phemie tried to quiet the maids, my lady turned to answer me, +and the effort seemed to break the frozen spell that held her, for the +tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her face. + +“Oh, Barbara, did you not see--have you not heard? The battle is over +and Argyle hath vanquished Mar, whose army is broken and fleeing to the +hills. The Cause is lost, my girl, and we are undone. The kindest thing +to do now is to stop the King from coming over, and did I but know +where to address Sir John, I would send a despatch to France this very +night.” + +Utterly bewildered I tried to put into sane words what I had just +witnessed from the hill, but as I spoke I felt that I was not +convincing my audience. + +“A battle there was surely, madam,” I said, “but indeed there was no +rout of my Lord Mar’s army. It drew off when the dusk fell as orderly +as the other, and if I am not mistaken they have but retired for the +night to fight again to-morrow.” + +Even while they looked at me, trying to take in my words of hope, a +clamour arose in the courtyard, and a great voice shouted, “Hurrah!” +I flew to the window, and opening it wide, leaned out. A group of men +holding torches were round the door, and among them I could see the +shepherd, Allan Maclean, who appeared to have but just arrived among +them. + +“What news?” I cried. “What news, men? Is it Allan Maclean that has +brought them?” + +The men looked up, and seeing that my lady had joined me, surrounded by +the agitated women, they tossed their bonnets into the air, shouting, + +“Victory, my leddy, victory for my Lord Mar! A gran’ fecht, and +Argyle’s beaten! Lang live King Jamie, and doun wi’ German Geordie.” + +Now on hearing these cries, my lady turned and caught my hand, and we +looked in each other’s faces, perplexed; and there was something so +whimsical in the occurrence (also the relief of the reaction was so +great), that we both burst out laughing, and stood there swaying to and +fro till we became exhausted with our mirth and were obliged to stop. + +“Sure,” said my dear lady, wiping her eyes, “this is the strangest +battle that ever was fought, where both sides claim the victory, and +neither has suffered defeat. For the Stirling folk, we are told, are +rejoicing over their success as heartily as Allan Maclean, and have +already spread abroad about the town that my Lord Mar’s forces are +utterly broken.” + +“That,” cried I, “I am convinced they are not; but how far the rest +is true or untrue I fear we must wait till the morrow to learn. Oh, +madam, ’tis pity that the field lies so far from us--there must be many +wounded and dying. To think of them lying out in this bitter cold nigh +breaks my heart. Pray God none of your own people are among them!” + +“Alas!” she sighed, “if all is not well with them, they are either dead +or taken prisoners. But I would fain succour the others, even as you +would, Barbara, were we not too distant here. To-morrow we must see +what can be done. Ah, my dear, how could we laugh so heartily just now, +when some of our kindest neighbours and friends may be lying stark and +stiff on Sheriffmuir?” + +And I hope you will not despise us when you hear that upon that we both +sat down and wept. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +TELLS OF A DARK HOUR--AND OF A GREAT AWAKENING + + +Tidings we had upon the morrow in plenty, but no great certainty, for +Rumour, many-mouthed, roamed the country-side, and each mouth had a +different tale to tell. One thing was sure--_part_ of each army had +vanquished _part_ of the other; that is to say, Mar’s left wing was +put to flight by Argyle’s right, while his centre column had routed +Argyle’s left. That it was a well ordered battle no man on either side +dare affirm, and the confusion, the bad discipline, and the lack of +strategic skill on the part of the insurgents, prevented the Earl of +Mar, whose numbers were by far the larger, from recording a complete +victory over the Government troops. Had he even returned to give +battle on the morrow all might have been well; but owing partly to the +desertion of many of the Highlanders from his ranks, partly to the +lack of victuals, and a little, I fear, to dissensions among his chief +officers, he remained inactive, and gradually drew off towards Perth, +claiming the victory on his part, and leaving Argyle to proclaim it on +his own. + +In the meantime, on this dark Monday, we heard heavy enough tidings +from time to time. Some were said to be dead who were only taken +prisoners, and others were thought safe whose corpses were found upon +the field. Upwards of eighty officers and gentlemen were lodged as +prisoners in Stirling Castle, while many also on the other side were +carried off to Perth. We heard in the course of the day with real +sorrow, of the death of the gallant young Earl of Strathmore, and of +the brave Chief of Clanranald; and how, sore wounded, that fine old +hero, my Lord Panmure, was a prisoner. Many other ill tidings came to +us, for, as you know, we had friends on both sides in the battle; and +all day long the house was besieged by people of the poorer sort, with +some tale to tell of death or disaster, of loss by battle, or by the +thieving soldiers, making requests for meal or meat, clothing or money, +or merely to pour into my Lady Alva’s ears some incident of harrowing +importance. + +Soon after the noon-day dinner, little Charles called me to see a troop +of some five hundred horse which were passing the house, going in the +direction of Dunblane; and my lady desiring to know who they were, went +cautiously to the gate, accompanied by her son and myself, and looked +at the officers who passed to see if she might find any friends among +them. Several went by without her recognising them, but at last came +one who was well-known to her, namely, my Lord George Murray, who upon +seeing my lady, saluted and came forward to speak with her. From him +we learned that he, with the Laird of Inveruitie, had received orders +to march from Burntisland with their battalions to join the Earl of +Mar between Auchterarder and Stirling. They had come with what speed +they could, but owing, I believe, to some delay in the message being +delivered, they were arriving, as my lady told them, “a day behind the +Fair.” Lord George questioned us eagerly upon what had taken place, and +hoped that yesterday’s battle might only be the first of the campaign. +He would not stop for refreshment, even though the servants were now +appearing with jugs of small beer and bottles of claret, but must press +on, as he said, in order to reach headquarters, wherever these might +be, before the dusk fell. As my lady drew back she asked a question +which I had so longed to put myself, that when the words fell from her +lips I was startled by the quick throb of my heart. + +“Pray, is our friend, Captain Anthony Fleming, in your company?” she +said. “We should like to salute him kindly.” + +Lord George was already riding off, and looked back to answer her. + +“Fleming? Anthony Fleming?” he called out. “No, madam, he left +Burntisland on a special mission to my Lord Mar a week since, and is +in all probability over there now with the army. Adieu.” + +And the heavy horses went thudding and pounding past us, and for no +reason at all my heart sank low, and the blood ebbed in my cheeks. + +“Poor Anthony!” murmured my lady, as we turned away, “God grant he has +come safe out of it!” + +I could neither answer nor look at her, for all at once it seemed to me +I saw my friend lying wounded, or perhaps dead, out there on the frozen +morass. So clearly I pictured his face turned up to the sky, his kind +eyes closed to all earthly light for ever, his strong arm lifeless by +his side, that it seemed to me like a prophetic vision, or like the +strange knowledge of current events, which the Highlanders call “second +sight.” I shivered with a sort of fear, and having entered the house +crept away upstairs to the nursery, where little Hal was playing, and +my good Phemie sat placidly spinning, as if no such things as battles +had ever been heard of. I sat myself down on the floor beside her, as +I was used to do as a bairn, and leaned my head against her while I +listened to the drowsy humming of the wheel. She stopped for a moment +to lay her kind hand upon my hair. + +“What ails my lamb the day?” she said, tenderly, and at the touch and +tone, so truly motherly, the tears rose in my eyes and dropped down +into my lap. Harry, who had stopped playing, came running up, and +putting his soft arms round my neck, bade me “not to greet.” + +“She’s sorry about the battle, Phemie,” said the dear little fellow, +“and the poor shotted soldiers and the hurt horse and all. How glad I +am that my papa is not in Scotland--he would have been in the fight, +and perhaps have got shotted too.” + +The baby speech, and the loving clasp of the little arms, comforted me +strangely, and when a few minutes later I heard my lady’s voice calling +me, I ran downstairs quite cheerful again, and asked what I could do +for her. She stood in the hall with a basket in her hand, and Charles +beside her wrapped in his winter cloak. + +“I have heard but now, Barbara,” said she, “that Alison Macdonald, the +herd’s wife, is sick and in need of some comforts. She is alone in bed +in the hut, but the key is hid in the thatch (you are tall and can +reach it). So many are coming and going that I cannot spare one of the +servants to send to her, yet I cannot let the poor woman starve, for +her husband, you know, went to Dunfermline on an errand this morning, +and cannot be back till late. I fear the snow will shortly be coming +down heavily, so, although I scarce like to ask you to go a yard from +the house to-day, if you keep to the road till you come to the glen, +I do not think any one will molest you. ’Twill not take more than +half-an-hour, going and returning, and my brave little Charles will be +your protector.” + +“Why, yes, Cousin Barbara,” cried the child smiling, “I will not let +anyone touch you, and I am to carry the can of broth.” + +The herd’s bothie stood about half-way up a small glen that lay +parallel with and next to the Silver Glen. The stream which ran through +it was a mere trickle, except when a great rain flooded the hills, and +the trees and shrubs were mostly stunted and of little beauty. I left +the house with few misgivings for the road was quiet, and if there were +any fugitives hiding from the soldiers of Argyle they would, we knew, +keep to the hills and not frequent the highways. + +We met no soul on our short journey, and found the poor woman, as my +lady had said, alone in the hut and very thankful to see us. I did +what I could for her comfort: built up the fire of coal and peat till +it glowed cheerfully upon the hearth, gave her some of the broth, and +under her directions placed the other things within her reach. Then +promising that someone should come to her in the evening, in case her +husband might be detained, we left her much cheered, and locking the +door again, departed. + +It was now about four of the clock, and evening was approaching. In +the glen it was darker because of the close growing trees, and we were +obliged to walk carefully for the path was steep and narrow. A slight +snow had fallen, and the frost held the ground like iron. Among the +grasses at the edge of the burn were fringes of ice, though the running +water itself was not yet frozen. A chill wind had sprung up and was +moaning among the almost leafless trees. + +Suddenly little Charles, whose hand I held, stopped short, and +shrinking nearer to me pointed, and whispered, + +“What is that, cousin?” I looked, and my heart stood still, for lying +on the snowy ground a little way from the path, and half hidden by a +low-growing bush, was the body of a man. My first impulse was to run, +as far and as fast as possible from the dreaded object; but my second, +I am glad to say, conquered my first, and bidding Charles stay where he +was, I stepped over the frozen grass, and bending down, examined the +recumbent figure. He was lying on his back, with his face upon his arm +as if he slept, but it was turned towards me, and with a sharp cry I +sprang back. Charles, in whom curiosity was ever greater than fear, ran +to my side and seized my hand. + +“Is he dead, cousin? Is it a soldier? Oh, Heavens! ’tis Captain +Anthony,” and without a pause the boy dropped on his knees and shook +the shoulder nearest him with both hands. + +“Charles, Charles!” I cried, “stop for pity’s sake! Perhaps the poor +man is dead. Oh, what shall we do if he is?” + +“He is not dead, cousin,” cried Charles. “He lives, I am sure of it. +See, his chest moves as he breathes. But he is very cold, and oh look! +there is blood upon his coat.” + +Half sick with terror I looked where he pointed. The officer had been +wounded on the shoulder, and his sleeve being saturated with blood had +frozen as stiff as a board. I touched his face, it was cold and very +white, but sure enough I could see the feeble rise and fall of his +chest, and I knew that Charles was right. A moment’s reflection showed +me what I must do. + +“Would you be afraid, dear Cha, to run to the house alone,” I said, +“and tell them to bring men to carry Mr. Fleming down. They must bring +a board of some kind for he is badly wounded. Go straight to my lady +and tell her the poor gentleman is unconscious--_unconscious_, Charles, +will you remember that word? Say that Barbara is watching beside him; +she will know what to order. Can you do this, my dear?” + +The little lad looked up in my face, then down the lonely path that was +quickly growing darker, then at the wounded soldier in the grass. + +“Ay, Cousin Barbara, I can. Am I not your protector?” he said. + +“You are!” I cried, as I kissed him, “my brave protector and kind +helper. And remember, dearest Cha, you are going to save Captain +Anthony’s life.” + +With that he darted off, and left me alone in the darkling glen with +my wounded friend and my anxious thoughts. I chafed his lifeless hands +to bring some warmth to them, but with little result. I tried to raise +his head, and succeeded in moving it a little and straightening out +his unwounded arm; but the pallor of his face alarmed me much, for I +knew not how long he had been lying there, nor how far his strength had +ebbed. Oh, for a fire, for a surgeon, for brandy! + +At that thought I rose to my feet, and unwinding the plaid from my head +and shoulders, I folded it over the unconscious man, and, regaining +the path, began running up the glen as fast as the steepness and +slipperiness of the way permitted. For among the comforts sent to +Alison Macdonald, I had seen a little flask of the French brandy which +my lady kept to dole out as medicine, and some of that brandy I was +bound to have. I startled the poor woman half out of her wits by my +abrupt entrance, but a few hurried words explained the matter, and she +earnestly besought me to take the flask with me as the poor soldier +needed it more than she. This I refused to do, but, pouring about half +the contents into a cup, I locked the door once more, and for the +fourth time retraced the narrow path. + +It was some time before I succeeded in forcing a little of the spirit +between the poor pale lips, but in spite of the trembling of my hands +(caused as much by nervousness as by the cold), I persevered, and was +at last made happy by the knowledge that some had been swallowed. +Anxiously I continued my ministrations, too much occupied with my +task to have room for thought, and at last to my intense joy the eyes +opened, and the lips seemed to form some inaudible words. Had he +recognised me I wondered, did he know who was so eagerly tending him, +would mine be the first name he uttered on regaining consciousness? +Again I held the cup to his lips, and this time he drank more freely. +As the life-giving cordial went down he stirred a little, and opening +his eyes again vaguely, he murmured, “Mistress Betty Sinclair.” + +Now at this date it is easy to smile at the shock of dismay these +words caused me, but at the time I remember very well ’twas no matter +for smiling. It struck me with a kind of sad irony, that I had looked +upon this gentleman as my peculiar property. I had found him in dire +straits, I had ministered to him with my own hands, I had perhaps +brought him back to life, and for what? To hear him, with his first +conscious thought, call for Betty Sinclair! I sat by his head on the +chilly ground, too numb to feel the cold. I still chafed his hands, +and offered him brandy, but it was done _with a difference_. The warm +feeling of motherly protection, which moves a maid towards the man who +attracts her, had fled. I would nurse him and watch him, and save him +if I could, but it was to be for another, and as I thought thereon, I +wept. + +Ah, foolish Barbara! thus to torture herself because of three little +words. Where was her reason gone, her modesty, her pride? For full five +minutes, I verily believe, they had fled from the stronghold of her +mind, and during that period she abandoned herself to cold despair and +helpless, gnawing jealousy. + +The sound of steps and voices in the distance brought me to myself. I +wiped the tears from my face, and redoubled my efforts with so much +success that by the time the men approached, Captain Fleming was well +enough to notice them, though of me he did not seem to be aware. Mr. +Rose, and John Harley, Allan the shepherd, and Thomas, one of the +stablemen, bearing a stretcher between them, came hurriedly up the +glen, and with kind haste and skilful hands lifted the wounded man upon +it. Mr. Rose carried a warm cloak which had been given him by my lady +for the soldier’s use, but on catching sight of Barbara shivering in +her house-dress he wrapped it round her shoulders, leaving her plaid +where she had placed it. + +Just as they were starting Captain Fleming made an effort to speak, and +Mr. Rose bent down to listen. + +“Whaur are we takin’ ye, sir? Just to Alva Hoose, whaur my leddy waits +tae pit ye tae bed. You bide quiet, Mr. Fleming, ye’re in guid hands, +and will be well cared for.” + +With a sigh of satisfaction the sick man closed his eyes, but as I +walked soberly in the rear of the procession I was not able to see his +face. + +My lady was too anxious as to the state of her unbidden guest to do +more than lay her hand on my shoulder with a, “Well done, Barbara!” +that warmed my heart. But upstairs in the nursery, to which I was +at once dragged by Charles, we were regarded as hero and heroine by +Phemie and little Hal. There I was treated to all sorts of petting and +cossetting, to words of praise and wonder, to hot spiced wine, and a +warm bath for my feet. So that, ere ten minutes had passed, I had well +nigh forgotten my lonely vigil in the glen, and was ready to laugh at +Harry’s wee face as he listened excitedly to his brother’s chatter. He +told us of his quick run home, and how frighted he was at the dark; +and how he had taken the grunting of a pig for a Highlander calling +him, and had raced all the faster past the stye; and how Devon, the +watch-dog, had seemed to know his step, for he stopped barking and +crawled back into his kennel, and let my brave protector run straight +in at the door. + +“And what did you do when I left you, Cousin Barbara?” he cried. “Were +you terrible frighted without me?” + +Whereupon I had to add my chapter to the tale, and relate my +adventures with the brandy, receiving great credit from Phemie for my +thoughtfulness, as I had probably, she said, saved the poor gentleman’s +life. + +“And did he not open his eyes and see you?” asked Hal, “and say, ‘Fank +you, Mistress Barbara?’” + +“Indeed he did not, Harold Beaux-yeux!” said I. “Poor Barbara was not +even noticed.” + +“But did he say nuffin at all?” persisted the child. + +I rose up laughing, for the foolish mood had passed, and lifted the boy +in my arms. + +“Oh, yes, he did,” I cried. “He asked for your Aunt Betty Sinclair.” + +“Eh!” said Phemie grimly, “another of ’em!” + +And though this mysterious utterance pricked my heart, I laughed again, +and joined in a game of romps with the children. + +But half an hour afterwards I stood outside a closed door, with my +head against the panel, listening hungrily for a sound from within. +The stillness terrified me, for I thought he must be dead. I longed to +lift the latch and go in, but modesty and fear forbade me. How long I +stood there I know not, but footsteps behind me in the passage made me +turn my head, to see my lady approaching with a cup in her hand. She +had not, as I was glad to know, perceived my attitude, and took it for +granted that I had but just come. She signed to me to open the door, +and we entered the room together. By the light of a dimly burning taper +I caught sight of the form upon the bed. His head was bandaged, for +there was a scalp wound under the hair which had started bleeding, and +this made the pallor of his face more ghastly; his eyes were closed. I +stole into the shadow of the curtain, and watched my lady as she bent +over the bed and raised him on her arm to hold the cup of broth to his +lips. He was not asleep, and thanked her gratefully as he drank it. + +“Are you in pain?” she asked, gently. + +“It will pass,” he answered in a weak voice, but cheerily. “’Twas worse +upon the hillside.” + +“Mr. Peck, who is a clever surgeon, says you must not talk,” said my +lady; “but if you have anything upon your mind, he thinks it will ease +you to tell me if you are able.” + +His next words startled me, prepared as I was. + +“Is your sister Mistress Betty Sinclair, in the house with you, madam?” +he asked. + +“Nay,” said my lady, “she is still at Dysart. Have you aught you wish +me to tell her?” + +“’Twas your brother, the Master,” went on Mr. Fleming, “that told me +she was here. He writ her a letter after the battle, a few lines only, +thinking she and you, madam, would be anxious to know of his safety. +When he found me wounded, he very kindly said that if I could find my +way here I should be well cared for, and could join the army again in a +few days when a little recovered from my wound. He gave me the letter, +telling me to deliver it to Mistress Sinclair if she were here, or to +you, madam, if she were not. He directed me how to come in order to +avoid the enemy, but a small body of dragoons espied and chased me, +and though I escaped them by great good luck, my horse was caught by +a stray bullet, and shortly after the poor beast stumbled and fell, +to rise no more. I came on foot, but missed my way in the dark and +wandered far, and I know not how many hours I had been on the hillside +when your searchers found me. The letter, madam, is in the inner pocket +of my tunic, and that is all my task accomplished, save to offer my +heartfelt apologies for giving you so much trouble.” + +Now this lengthy speech was faltered out, sentence by sentence, as the +poor man’s strength allowed, but my lady waited patiently, believing +rightly that when the tale was told his mind would be more at ease. +Upon its conclusion she assured him that his apologies were unnecessary +at such a time, and at his request she found the letter he had suffered +so much in bringing. + +As for me, only one thing at that moment seemed important--the strange +exclamation in the glen was accounted for. He had been bidden to find +Betty Sinclair, and naturally her name came first to his lips. How +simple it was! Already my heart felt lighter, and as my lady moved to +the door after bidding her patient try to sleep, I slipped from the +shadow of the curtain and passed close to the bed. For one moment I +paused and looked down upon him, and our eyes met. Oh! the glad light +that sprang into his as he recognised me. + +“Barbara!” he whispered, and that was all; but the word was so fraught +with tender gladness that my heart vibrated like a harp-string touched +to music, and I could scarce restrain my tears. I held out my hand +impulsively, and for a lingering moment our fingers touched. What magic +lay in that brief handclasp not even the wisest of the ancients, I +believe, could explain, but in the twinkling of an eyelid it changed +my life for me. With a smile and a backward glance I passed on, and +an instant later I was standing outside the door, a heedless girl no +longer, but a glad, startled, loving, anxious woman. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +SHOWS HOW THE CAUSE SUFFERS MANY REVERSES + + +My dear Lady Erskine was so wrapt in the perusal of her brother’s +letter that she neither noticed my delay in quitting the bedroom, nor +my agitation when I joined her. For a moment it seemed to me that the +overwhelming emotion I had experienced must have left its mark upon my +face, that my eyes would betray it, and my lips tremble forth their +confession, without her saying one word. But the next instant it came +to me, as a woman, that the sweet and agitating secret was not mine +own, that indeed ’twas so vague and impalpable I scarce had the right +to regard its existence, and with the marvellous self-control that +comes to our sex in such crises, I closed the door behind me and slowly +followed my lady to her room. + +The letter from the Master told us little that we had not already +heard, except that it gave us the names of many friends who were taken +prisoners to Stirling. Lord Strathallan among others, and his brother, +Mr. Thomas Drummond, Colonel Walkinshaw, the Laird of Barafield, +and Mr. Murray, younger, of Auchtertyre. He found time to lament in +touching words the sad death of young Lord Strathmore, than whom a +truer gentleman, or a braver soldier, never bore a sword. I give his +words as he wrote them-- + +“On our left the brave young Strathmore was killed. I can’t help +wishing he had kept his promise to me to honour me with being under +my command, and joyning my squadron. When he found all turning their +backs, he seized the Colours, and persuaded fourteen, or some such +number, to stand by him for some time, which drew upon him the enemie’s +fire by which he was wounded; and going off was taken and murdered by +a dragoon--a mill-stone crushing a brilliant. He was the young man of +all I ever saw who approached the nearest to perfection, and had a just +contempt of all the little lyes and selfish tricks so necessary to some +and so common among us.” + +He told us also that Mr. Irvine of Drum, “a young gentleman of good +hopes, was ill wounded.” On the other side, my Lord Islay, the Duke’s +brother, was sore hurt; and the Earl of Forfar was so badly wounded, +that although he was taken prisoner by Mar, they could not carry him to +Perth, but sent him back to Stirling, where alas! he died next day. + +The Master we learned in a later letter (and I beg you will forgive me +if I confuse the information got at different times), toiled and moiled +for hours with the cannon, wishing rather to bury them than to leave +them a gift to the enemy; but eventually he was obliged to abandon most +of them on the highroad to Ardoch, though some he did get to Perth. He +lost his way in the darkness, and rode about the moor half the night, +being indebted at last to the kindness of a gentleman, met by accident, +who carried him to Urchell where he had a few hours’ sleep. + +Lord Panmure, of whose staunch courage I can never say enough, was, +as I told you, taken prisoner, but being grievously wounded, was left +in the hut of some peasants, where the good souls tended him kindly. +He was but slightly guarded, and was soon rescued by his brother, Mr. +Harry Maule, and taken to a safe place till he was a little recovered, +when he rejoined the army at Perth. + +Indeed and indeed we had grounds enough for mourning, for not only were +we grieved by all this loss and suffering, but our hearts were heavy +because we knew not if the sacrifice was to bring its own reward; in +other words, we had begun to fear that success was not to crown our +efforts. + +“It is not, Barbara,” said my lady to me, “that I think the Cause +unworthy, but it may be that God in His infinite wisdom has ordained +that it shall not prosper.” + +And in how many minds this bitter doubt was growing up it would be +difficult to tell, for except in the privacy of our own closets, no +loyal tongue would give it voice. + +But all this time my lady had no word from Sir John, and this, as you +may imagine, did not ease her burden. Our patient, too, was causing her +great anxiety, and for many days had been so ill that, by Mr. Peck’s +orders, no one but himself and one of the women appointed as nurse, was +allowed to enter his chamber. + +The secretary went about with a troubled face, and for a little time we +feared the worst. + +What this meant to me I cannot tell you; but in those days I first +learned the meaning of patience, not the meek and lifeless resignation +of the placid mind, but the discipline of soul which forces an outward +quiet, while the spirit within consumes itself in an agony of waiting. +Ah! how many times in her life has Barbara had to endure the same +fear, anxiety, and helpless longing; but at that time her heart was +fierce and wild, and her nature all unused to pain. I had grasped my +inheritance of happiness, only to have it wrenched from my hand. I had +stood and gazed into Heaven, and the door had been shut in my face. +What wonder that I struggled with indignation and surprise against this +blow of Fate, and that many secret tears bedewed my pillow? + +It was a merciful relief to find very soon my hands and thoughts so +occupied that my private troubles must be pushed and hidden out of +sight. You must not imagine that Mr. Fleming was our only patient, +for in all the great houses round the scene of the battle, kind +hearts were moved to set up hospitals for the wounded, and you will +readily believe that Alva was not behind the rest in this work of +mercy. The men were mostly of the rank and file, for the officers were +made prisoners; and though on both sides there was much leniency and +courtesy shown, it was not to be expected in a conflict of this sort +that gentlemen of influence could be trusted in the houses of their +friends and sympathisers. A few of the worst cases Lady Erskine caused +to be brought into the house, but for the most part the men were +provided with accommodation in the barns and out-houses; and being +sturdy fellows, not used to lying soft, nor to delicate fare, they +very quickly responded to the kindness of their rescuers, and were +speedily healed of their wounds. One or two died, to our great sorrow, +especially when, as in the case of two of the Highlanders, who had no +English and could not make known to us more than their names, we were +unable to learn their wishes or bear any message to their friends. + +I must not forget to tell you that outside our little world affairs had +not been prospering. You will remember that after the battle the Earl +of Mar drew off slowly to Perth, resting his exhausted army by the way, +and taking three or four days to perform the journey. But, ere they +reached the town, tidings were brought to the Earl of Seaforth that +Inverness had fallen to my Lord the Earl of Sutherland, and he with +General Gordon hurried north to prevent the victorious Earl from coming +south to threaten Perth. Another bitter disappointment followed, for +on Saturday the 19th day of November, my Lord Mar, having reached the +town, received there a despatch from Brigadier Mackintosh at Preston +in Lancashire, stating how they had taken that town, and hoped on the +morrow to march to Manchester. The Earl of Mar gave orders for what +proved to be premature rejoicings, for he set the bells a-ringing; and +next day, being Sunday, was made the occasion of a public thanksgiving. +But alas! in the midst of their jubilation another messenger arrived +from the same quarter with very sorry tidings to tell, namely: the +surrender of Preston to General Wills, and the complete collapse of the +rising in the north of England. Many of our bravest and most important +leaders were thus taken prisoners and carried to London, among them +the brave old Mackintosh, Lords Kenmure and Nithsdale, Lord Nairn and +the Earl of Wintoun, also of Englishmen, the young and popular Earl of +Derwentwater, my Lord Widdington, and Mr. Thomas Forster, a gentleman +of Northumberland. I leave you to imagine the effect of this dismal +news upon the already disaffected army at Perth. It did not take long +for the tidings to spread, though to us it was first conveyed in a +letter from the Master of Sinclair to his sister. Following hard upon +this disaster came rumours of the approach of English regiments from +across the border, and of the arrival of the Dutch troops on our +shores, and although these last did not come upon us for some weeks +yet, the fear of their invasion filled our hearts with terror. + +In the midst of all this woe and trouble I can still recall two +happy events which, oddly enough, fell upon the same day, the 5th of +December, being just three weeks after the Battle of Sheriffmuir. Very +early in the morning, my lady, coming to the door to give some order, +descried in the wan light the figure of a man hurrying along the broad +walk which gave upon the highroad. He was dressed in the rough garb +of a common sailor, but his face when he came nearer was clean and +intelligent, and he doffed his hat with a certain courtesy of manner +not quite in keeping with the dress. + +My lady eyed him keenly, and demanded what she could do for him. He +replied by taking a packet from his breast and holding it out before +her eyes, but he did not utter a word. It was a letter addressed to +herself, and in her husband’s writing. Most gladly did she seize it +from him, asking eagerly how he had come by it, and a dozen other +questions in a breath; but the man merely smiled and bowed, making +signs as though he were dumb. Whether this was so or not, we were never +able to discover, but all the time he was at Alva (and you may be sure +he was well-fed and well-paid ere he left), he never spoke, nor made +the least attempt at communicating with any. He departed as silently +and mysteriously as he came, and we never, to my knowledge, heard of +him again. + +Howbeit he had brought light and gladness into my lady’s heart and +relief to the whole household, so that we were better attuned for the +hearing of further good news in the assurance of Mr. Peck that Captain +Fleming was now convalescent, and might receive visits from the inmates +of the house. My lady, it is true, had seen him once or twice during +the past week; but now she called me, and bidding me take Charles as +companion, sent me into the sick-room with a cup of coffee for the +invalid. + +Now you must know that ever since we had been escorted home by Mr. +Fleming and his troopers, our little lads had talked incessantly of +“Captain Anthony”--how brave he was, how tall; what a great horse he +rode, and how kind he looked when he smiled. Since our adventure in the +glen, Charles had enacted the interesting scene many times in his play, +he, himself, being the wounded soldier, and little Hal taking now the +part of Cha, running breathless down the dark road, now of Barbara, +ministering to the unconscious man alone. It was with feelings, +therefore, of great and awe-struck delight that the boy put his hand +in mine as I stood before the door of the bed-room, and at my bidding +knocked. Upon our entering, I was relieved to find the gentleman up and +sitting in a chair by the hearth. His face was pale and thin, for the +fever had been high; but his eyes were clear and bright, and he held +out his hand with a smile. + +“Forgive me, Mistress Barbara,” he cried, “that I cannot rise to greet +you; and accept my best thanks for the kindness of your visit.” + +Charles walked up to him and shook him gravely by the hand. + +“I am pleased to see you, sir,” he said in his old-fashioned way, “and +Cousin Barbara and I are very glad that we found you in the glen.” + +“Hush, Charles!” cried I. “Remember your mama said you were not to talk +too much.” + +“This is not ‘too much,’ Barbe,” returned the boy, “and you know we +_are_ glad!” + +“Pardon me, madam,” said Mr. Fleming, when he had, at my bidding, drunk +the coffee. “It will amuse me greatly and do me no harm if you permit +your little cousin to explain himself. I imagined that I was found by +some of my Lady Erskine’s men, sent out to look for stragglers in the +hills.” + +I could only smile and give my permission, begging him at the same +time to make all allowances for the childish narrator. I seated myself +a little way off, and hoped that the child would say nothing I should +regret; but at the same time I was not averse to the idea that my +friend should know to whom, in all probability, he owed his life. + +“You see, sir,” said Charles, standing by the chair, and putting his +little hand on Mr. Fleming’s knee, “my mama had sent my Cousin Barbara +with some comforts to a poor woman in the glen, and I was sent with her +as her protector. There was nothing, truly, to protect her from, but +there might have been, you know! And I was of some use too--of a great +deal of use, wasn’t I, Barbe? For ’twas I that saw you first, sir, +under the bush.” + +“Yes, indeed,” I said, “your sharp little eyes descried Mr. Fleming +before mine did.” + +“Then Cousin Barbe went and looked at you, and at first she thought you +were dead, but I knew you weren’t for I saw you breathing. And then +she said would I be frighted to run back to the house alone for help, +and I said ‘no;’ but I was, you know, a good deal frighted--’specially +when the pig grunted, and I thought ’twas a Highlander after me! But I +runned very fast, and got to the house all safe.” + +He stopped for breath, and his listener patted him on the head. + +“Bravo, little comrade! That is the true courage, to be a good deal +frighted but still to go on. And what of Mistress Barbara left alone?” + +“Oh,” said Charles, “I think Barbara was frighted too, for you wouldn’t +wake up; and it was very cold and dark, and she took off her plaid and +put it over you, and ran all the way back to the hut for brandy, and +made you, _made_ you take some, and rubbed your hands, and--” + +“Come, that will do, my lad!” I exclaimed, my cheeks very hot, my heart +beating quick, for my friend had turned to look at me, and there was +that in his eyes which I found it not easy to meet. + +“Nay!” cried Charles, carried away by his own tale, “I have but one +thing more to say. Do you know, Captain Anthony, she did all that, and +you never--even--said ‘Thank you!’” + +At that we both laughed heartily till the boy, not comprehending, +began to look uncomfortable, and Mr. Fleming, taking his hand, said +seriously. + +“You must forgive me, Charles, as I can only hope your cousin does. +But to make up for my rudeness, I mean to go on thanking her all my +life--if she will let me!” + +The last words were uttered in a lower tone, and his eyes were again +fixed on my face. Charles ran off to the window, some noise outside +attracting him, and I took the opportunity to say as carelessly as I +might, + +“You make too much, sir, of a trivial kindness, which any woman would +have performed for a wounded man.” + +“No doubt, madam,” he answered gravely, leaning forward in his chair, +“but that cannot lessen my gratitude, for my life is incomparably sweet +and precious to me now. You gave it back to me, and were it not too +early in our acquaintance, I would say I herewith offer it to you--nay, +listen, madam! Ever since that first morning when I saw you, with your +sweet face pale with terror, and your eyes appealing to any chivalry +that was left in man, my one thought, outside my duty as a soldier, has +been to be worthy to care for and protect you all through life, so that +if my faithful love could shield you, you should never suffer fear or +pain again.” + +I made no answer and my eyes were hid. “This, I know, is not the time +to talk of such things,” he went on, “neither do I expect a prize so +exquisite to fall into my hand at the first touch. Grant me but time, +madam, to prove my honesty in the words of the motto of our house, +‘_Let deed show_,’ and if Heaven be so kind as to preserve me in future +dangers, give me leave to come to you again.” + +Did ever maid listen to such perfect wooing! Ah! Barbara, happy +Barbara, did not that hour atone for all your pain? Even as I write, +an old and faded woman, my heart gives a throb of bliss when I think +of it. How good God is, how tender and loving, when He grants us, all +undeserving as we are, our heart’s desire! + +I said not a word in answer, but rose and went to him and gave him both +my hands. As he seized them and pressed them to his lips, a footstep +sounded in the passage, and the next moment Mr. Peck entered, telling +us in his kindly nervous way that he thought his patient would be the +better of a rest. + +“Ah! Mr. Peck,” cried my dear Anthony gaily, “their visit has done +me more good than all your medicines, though but for your kind and +constant care, good friend, I should never have been able to profit by +it.” + +Charles now came forward and looked at him inquisitively. + +“Are you going to be well very soon, Captain Anthony?” he said. + +“I hope so, little comrade,” was the reply. “You know there is much +work to be done still for the King.” + +“Ay,” said Charles, “but I shall be sorry when you go away. My papa, +Sir John, says in his letter that the King is coming to Scotland in a +few days.” + +“God grant he be not too late!” groaned Mr. Peck, but we did not heed +him, and taking a kindly leave of our friend we left the room. + +Four days later, my lady had the pleasure of another letter from Sir +John, and wrote to him the following in reply. And here I may say that +the fears she had expressed to me about their correspondence were +justified, for this tender but cautious epistle missed Sir John at this +time, and lay for two months at St. Germains, where he found it on the +15th of February on his second visit to France. + + +LETTER III + + “MY DEAREST LIFE, + + I received yours of the 20th and another of the + 29th of Nov., which were both most acceptable, but they had both + been long by the way, for it was the 5 of Dec. before I received the + first. You are much mistaken in thinking I was displeas’d with you + for leaveing this country. I doe assure you I thought it a lucky + providence, and, tho I was in fear from not hearing from you, yett + it was easy to bear in comparison of what terror I must have had if + you had been in the danger some other of our freinds have been in. I + suppose you know all our difficultys from better hands long ere now, + and by that you may guess the torment and fear and terrible horror I + must be in for you and many others. If I had known your adress I had + writ to you three weeks ago and beg’d of you to stay where you was + till you saw how things would be. I writ to your Brother in hopes he + would learn itt from some att Edinr., but he told me he could not, + and you was soon expected, and I was so far from wishing you soon + back, I was afraid to hear of your return. I pray God send a happy + end to all, for I am just where I was and my hops are still very + faint, that person you mention in yours not being come yett. Your + children are very well, and all your other friends. I doe not wish to + hear you are returned, but when you doe, pray God you may be saffe, + which is the earnest wish of her who is intirely + Yours. + + Dec. 10. + + I am better than could be expected, all things considered. If you can + have any reasonable pretence to stay, doe not come by any means. Mr. + Peck gives you his most humble service, so does Aunt B. and I.” + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +MR. FLEMING RIDES AWAY FROM ALVA. THE KING LANDS, AND SIR JOHN RETURNS +TO SCOTLAND NOT QUITE IN THE MANNER HE INTENDED + + +On the evening of the day upon which we had visited Captain Anthony, +Mr. Peck, with an anxious face, sought my Lady Erskine (but this +unknown to me), and told her that he was troubled about his patient as +the fever was again high, and perceiving, as he thought, that there was +something on his mind to disturb him, his kind attendant had offered to +bring my lady to him in order that he might confide in her. + +Going at once to his chamber, my lady begged to know if she could help +him, upon which Mr. Fleming, as he told me after, with many misgivings +and humble requests for forgiveness, made confession of what had passed +between us that afternoon. + +He told her how from the first hour he saw Barbara Stewart her image +had remained in his mind, although he had never dreamed of betraying +his feelings thus early in their friendship. But gladdened by her dear +presence, touched and surprised on learning of all she had done for him +in the glen, perhaps a little weakened by his illness, he had allowed +himself to speak. + +“Scarcely had she left the room, madam,” he said, “when my heart +misgave me sorely, for it seemed to me I had abused your hospitality, +and taken advantage of Mistress Barbara’s innocence and youth; but +I fear I repent too late. Tell me if in any way I can repair my +indiscretion.” + +My lady sat silent some time and then asked, “And what said Barbara?” + +“Madam,” he cried earnestly, “she said not a word. But she put her +little soft hands in mine, and looked at me out of her dark eyes with +a look so deep and tender that for some moments I lost myself in the +bliss of it, and forgot that she remained silent.” + +My lady sighed and smiled together. + +“Ah, dear heart!” she cried, “how well I remember!” And although he +knew not what she meant, I know she was thinking of her own young days +and the moment when Sir John first told her that he loved her. + +After a little she went on. + +“I am grieved that this should have happened at such a time. In a few +days at most you must leave us, and what is before you, who can tell? +My mind misgives me when I try to read the future, for after all, Mr. +Fleming, wounds and death are not the only evils we have to fear. +Barbara is so young--if you could have waited a while. However, there +is no sense in crying over spilt milk, as the saying is, and what is +done is done. Can I trust you, sir, to leave it where it is? I love +the child as dearly as if she were my own sister,” (so my dear lady +was kind enough to say) “and you may trust me to be tender with her; +but it is not fitting there should be any formal contract between you. +There is much to be considered, and the times are uncertain. You will +not, therefore, see Mistress Stewart again except in my presence, but +you take with you my fervent wishes for your health and happiness and a +glad return.” + +Whatever Mr. Fleming’s desires might have been, he was forced to +acknowledge my lady’s authority and bow to her decision in the matter. +Nay, he could not but approve of the wisdom of her words, and the +kindness of her interest in the motherless girl he loved. So, greatly +comforted, and relieved of the burden of guilt that had oppressed him, +he fell into a sound sleep, and awaked upon the morrow much refreshed +and strengthened. + +To me, still lost in the wonder of my golden dream, and feeling +strangely detached from the things of earth, my lady’s words were few. +She touched lightly upon her knowledge of the position, and bade me not +fear to confide in her, either now or at a future time, for, whatever +happened, her love and sympathy were with me. + +“But,” she added, “you are scarce more than a child, Barbara, and +know not your powers and capacity. You may be greatly taken with our +friend, to whom I am also much attracted; but time alone will prove +the strength of your attachment, and I will not have you tied and +bound by the whim of a passing mood, engendered by the most romantic +circumstances, to what you might regret for your whole life.” + +With that she kissed me and sent me about some household task; but +during the next few days I saw little of Captain Anthony, and that only +with others in the room. + +By the end of the week he pronounced himself fit for travel, and late +one evening he presented himself before us, booted and spurred and +ready for the road. The children, who had grown to love their hero +dearly, were much distressed to lose him, and little Hal broke down and +cried, clinging to his hand on one side and to mine on the other. My +lady, with kindly tact, busied herself at the far end of the room, and +but for the child we were alone. + +“A token, Mistress Barbara,” whispered my lover imploringly. “Give me +something of your own to keep by me--not as a remembrance, for that +I shall not need, but as a pledge that you will be glad to see me +returned.” + +I tore a knot of red ribbon from my dress and pressed it into his hand, +which closed upon mine as he took it. The tears were very near my eyes, +and I longed to shed them openly like little Harry. But time pressed, +and my lady came forward to bid our guest farewell. + +“God keep you, my beloved!” he murmured. + +“And keep you too--for me!” I whispered back with trembling lips; +and any woman who has seen the man she loved ride out to war, will +understand what my thoughts were as I said it. + +A few minutes later we were all assembled at the door. Charles stood +outside in the frosty night, holding the stirrup, and struggling +manfully with his grief which he judged it childish to show. Mr. Peck +was giving a last look to the horse, which a few days back he had +purchased for the traveller. My lady handed him a packet to bear to +her brother, the Master, and pressed him again and again to be careful +of his health. I stood with little Hal in my arms, and watched the +scene as in a dream. Allan, the shepherd, who was to run by his side +and show him the short cuts through the hills, now came forward, saying +that it was time to start; and the next thing I remember is the sight +of Captain Anthony in the saddle, his hat in his hand, a smile on his +face, and a look in his eyes that I never forgot. A moment after he +rode out of the court-yard, and the darkness swallowed him up. + + * * * * * + +I take blame to myself that I have writ so much about my private +affairs, which cannot be of the same interest to you as to myself, but +you must of your kindness forgive me, for it would truly have been +impossible for me to tell the story of that sorrowful winter, without +some particulars of this portion of my own history. + +After our guest’s departure the days grew darker and darker, for the +tidings that came to us seemed to crush our hopes rather than raise +them up. My lady wrote to Betty, bidding her come if possible to +Alva to spend Christmas with us, but she sent back word that she was +occupied at the sick-bed of her young friend, David, eldest son to +their neighbour, the Earl of Wemyss, for the hapless youth was ill of +a fever, and his father was absent in London. A few days later came +the news of the young gentleman’s death, over which my lady grieved +with heart-felt sorrow, for, from a charming child, he had grown into a +bright and promising lad, and his early death at the age of sixteen was +deplored by all who knew him. + +Very ill news came also from Perth, and no comfort was to be had from +France. The big men in the Earl of Mar’s army were so busy quarrelling +among themselves, that they seemed to have lost sight altogether +of the Cause that had brought them together; and not the least of +the trouble, to my lady’s mind, lay in the fact that the Master of +Sinclair was at the head and front of the dissensions. Indeed she was +sick at heart when she heard of her brother’s conduct, for you may be +sure that rumour did not fail to make the worst of it. It has always +seemed to me that the Master, a man of strong character, and doubtless +with an attractiveness of his own, might have influenced his friends +to better issues, but instead of attempting the rôle of peace-maker, +he did everything in his power to stir up strife. So many of the +Fife gentlemen joined him, among them Sir James Kinloch, Sir Robert +Gordon, Major Balfour, Mr. Ogilvie, and Mr. Smith of Methven, that +they formed themselves into what was called the “Grumbling Club,” of +which the Master of Sinclair was President. Their business was to find +fault with everything that was done by my Lord Mar, to discourage the +troops, to foretell disaster, and even privately, it was said, to open +negotiations with the Duke of Argyle, with a view to capitulation. +This last failed, for the letter written by the Master to the Duke was +intercepted and brought to the Earl of Mar--an incident which, you may +be sure, did not increase the love and confidence between these two. +But later on, when the grumbling and the clamour grew louder, they went +to their leader, and boldly demanded that he should carry out their +design. This my lord, having news of the King’s coming, refused to do, +and bade the grumblers have patience among themselves for a little +longer. Indeed, I believe the poor gentleman was at his wit’s end what +to do, not having the strength or capacity necessary to control his +turbulent company. + +So ill did the Master behave that my Lord Sinclair, his father, having +wind of the matter, writ him a very sharp letter, chiding him for his +conduct and demanding an explanation; and when his son departed from +Perth, in answer to this summons, ’tis said the grumbling ceased, but +immediately upon his return it broke out again worse than ever. It +appears that when at home he took solemn leave of his friends, making +no secret of the fact that he expected nothing but defeat, and had no +expectation of returning in triumph to Dysart. + +The Marquis of Huntly, who had never been very eager for the Cause, +was “led by the nose” by this singular man, and seemed only too +ready to enter into all his schemes. And although the Master told us +proudly that Dr. Abercrombie, who had just returned from France, had +brought him a personal message from the Queen, in which she thanked +him for his services in seizing the ship at Burntisland, and promised +that when she and her family could, she would not forget to show him +favour, his heart remained untouched, and he made up his mind, coldly +and deliberately, to desert the Cause. Granted that he believed it +hopeless, that he disapproved the methods of his superiors, that he had +come to the conclusion that the whole affair was a sad mistake, still +his behaviour could not but alienate all loyal and honest men. + +The Duke of Argyle in the meantime, though the state of the roads +kept him inactive at Stirling, for there was a prodigious deal of +snow on the ground, did not altogether neglect his opportunities; for +to our great distress we learned that he had bombarded and occupied +Burntisland, and some of the Dutch troops having arrived he very soon +had all the seaports of Fife in his hands. As most of the coal-pits lie +in that district this was a serious loss, and added to the hardships of +an already rigorous winter. The foreign soldiers over-ran the place, +and food grew scarcer and dearer. Further north it was even worse; in +the counties of Perth and Inverness, it was said, where the frost had +stopped the working of the mills, there was scarcely a grain of meal to +be had. + +In the midst of all this misery it is not to be supposed that we +could eat our Christmas Goose with merry hearts, but sometime in the +beginning of January a packet arrived for my lady, which in spite of +everything could not fail to cheer us. It had been brought to Leith by +ship, and sent forward by a safe hand, so that it had not been long +delayed upon the road. It was a letter from her husband telling her +that the King had sailed for Scotland at last. + +There had been many difficulties and hindrances placed in his way +both by friends and enemies, the former being fearful for his safety, +the latter desiring to intercept him. But after much delay, and being +exposed to many hardships, he being obliged to travel the open roads +on horse-back, and even to disguise himself in some of the towns, his +Majesty embarked at Dunkirk in a small ship with a few attendants, +and must by this time, Sir John opined, have landed in Scotland. For +himself he was waiting at Calais, detained by stress of weather, and by +fear of the English men-of-war, which filled the channel. He had, he +said, on board, much precious material, including “two valuable young +men,” and he designed to land upon the east coast somewhat north of the +Forth to avoid the risk of cruisers in the Firth. He prayed my lady, if +she could by any means find it convenient, to meet him at Dysart, where +he said, it would be easier for him to come than to Alva, and she would +be well advised to leave home immediately upon receiving his letter, as +he hoped his arrival should not be much behind it. + +He went on to say that the winter, which he heard was severe in +Scotland, was equally so on the Continent. In country places in France +and in the north of Spain, the wolves and bears, made bold by hunger, +were prowling round the villages and towns, and some of the poor +peasants had died of starvation, being unable to come through the snow +to the market-towns for food. He ended by saluting his household kindly +each by name, and sending merry messages to his little sons. + +Now all again was bustle and excitement in the house, for waiting and +uncertainty are the hardest things on earth to bear, and the hopeful +tone of Sir John’s letter, as well as the good news it contained, +seemed to put a different complexion on our affairs. Now it was +possible to hold up our heads, to look forward, to plan, to be joyful, +and as, for my lady, any disaster were easier to bear than separation +from her husband, she made ready with all haste to go to her father’s +house as he had ordered. It was not so pleasant to me to be left behind +with Aunt Betty and the children, but as my lady made no proposal of +carrying me with her, I must needs make the best of the situation. I +begged of her to be very prompt and regular in writing to inform us of +anything that took place, and promising on my part to keep her informed +of all that happened with us, we bade her adieu, and watched her +depart, accompanied by the faithful Andrew, with very mingled feelings. + +Before we had any news from Dysart, however, we heard through another +source some very dismal tidings, which threw Aunt Betty into a state of +great affliction, and brought my own spirits pretty low. Sir John, we +heard, had indeed arrived on Scottish shores, but in a most untoward +manner, for his ship had been wrecked not far from Dundee, and all the +treasure and arms he was bringing were lost in the sea. Further, the +messenger was not certain whether Sir John and his crew were alive or +dead, and the consternation into which we were thrown for some hours +was very great. Next day, however, came letters from my lady which went +far to mitigate our grief. Sir John and all his companions were safe, +and though much of the ammunition had been destroyed, for the ship was +broke to pieces, the gold which he was bringing was safe. It was still +in the hulk which lay on the sandbank where she stranded, and they had +great hopes, if they could avoid the vigilance of the enemy, of getting +all off. + +Sir John’s fellow-travellers, the “two valuable young men” he had +mentioned, turned out to be the Marquis of Tynemouth (or Tinmouth), +son to the Duke of Berwick, and therefore nephew to the King, and my +Lord Talbot, an Irish peer. “The former,” wrote my lady, “is said +by Sir John to be a very worthy young gentleman, and will recommend +himself to all persons of merit.” As for herself, she was so thankful +to Providence for preserving her husband’s life, that she had scarce +time to mourn over his disaster, which nevertheless was a serious one. +She told us that the King had arrived at Peterhead some weeks back, but +promised to gather all news of the proceedings in the north from Sir +John, and bring it home to Alva, whither she designed returning as soon +after meeting with her husband as possible. Betty, she told us, had +been very dumpish and melancholy all winter, being in great trouble and +anxiety about the King’s affairs, and much exercised over the behaviour +of her brother. She was now more cheerful, however, and would accompany +her sister to Alva on her return, which she did some days later, when +we welcomed them both, you may be sure, with great delight. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +TELLS OF THE COMING OF THE KING TO PERTH, AND WHAT ENSUED THEREAFTER + + +It will be well for me now to give you shortly some account of the +proceedings at Perth, which I learned from Mr. Fleming’s own lips some +time after, though it would, I know, be easy for you to gather the +facts from the history-books written about that period. And because +I fear I am becoming tedious in my narrative, I will pass over many +details and give you the bare outline of what took place, in order to +carry on the story of my dear friends at Alva in a way that you will +understand. + +When Captain Anthony Fleming, upon his return to Perth, sought out the +Master of Sinclair in order to deliver to him my lady’s letter, and +give him news of the family, he found to his dismay that he was gone. +Seaforth, as we know, had hurried north after Sheriffmuir, and, as was +the custom of the Highlanders after a battle, many of them had returned +home. Now my Lord of Huntly was gone to save his estates from the +Earl of Sutherland, and to get back the town of Inverness, so it was +said; but we know that nobleman had decided to play his cards another +way, for he made a truce with my Lord Sutherland, and later sent in +his submission to Argyle, asking for pardon or protection from the +Government. The Master of Sinclair, shortly after he left, had followed +him, saying as his excuse that “having given so much umbrage to certain +people in Perth, he could be of no more use to the Cause, which now +was not only desperate, but sunk.” And so he deserted the foundering +ship, thinking most of his own danger and the necessity of saving his +precious skin. Mr. Fleming, like all other loyal gentlemen, had his own +opinion of such conduct, but though bitterly disappointed in the man +who had ever been friendly to him, and to whom he felt he owed so much, +he refrained from commenting upon it till long years after. + +In the midst of so much that was discouraging, an express one day +arrived with the joyful news that the King was at hand, for a ship +had appeared in the offing about the Height of Montrose, which had +made _the signals_, viz., the raising and lowering of a white flag on +the topmasthead, and, being answered from the shore, had passed on +northwards. At once the Earl of Mar began his preparations for going +to receive his Majesty, and great joy ran through the entire community +from the highest officers to the common soldiers, for all were weary +of the delay, and looked forward to large reinforcements, and a speedy +meeting with the enemy. A few days later a young gentleman, Lieutenant +Cameron by name, who had accompanied the King from France, rode into +Perth with the acceptable tidings that our long-looked for Sovereign +had landed at Peterhead, and was awaiting an interview with the Earl +of Mar and his companions. By great good fortune my lord commanded Mr. +Fleming to ride with him in the capacity of Captain of his Guard of +Horse, and the same day he, with my Lord Marischal, General Hamilton, +and about thirty other gentlemen of quality, set out to go and attend +him. The King, having lodged one night at Peterhead, and another at +Newburgh House, had passed _incognito_ through Aberdeen, and was now at +Fetteresso, the principal seat of my Lord Marischal, and thither the +party from Perth hastened, full of ardour and loyalty. I will give you +Mr. Fleming’s own words as to his impressions upon first beholding his +Majesty. + +“After having received the Earls of Mar and Marischal and the other +noblemen within the castle, and conversed with them for some time, his +Majesty expressed a desire to inspect the soldiers of the guard, who +were drawn up in front of the house. You may imagine that, on being +hurriedly prepared for this honour by General Hamilton, we sat our +horses in great excitement, only restrained by discipline. For my own +part my heart beat high in my bosom, and all the loyal and chivalrous +sentiments that had been nurtured in my mind from childhood rose up +to welcome my rightful and much injured King. When he appeared at the +door, looking pale and young and very weary, there came into my throat +something that caught my breath--a spasm of love and yearning that the +sight of no other man on earth could possibly bring--and at the moment +when I brought my sword to the salute I knew I would gladly lay down my +life for King James. A few minutes after I heard the voice of my Lord +Mar loudly proclaiming him at the gate of the house, and, following +my impulse, I waved my sword above my head, and shouted with all my +strength, ‘God save the King!’--a shout in which both my soldiers and +all others present willingly joined. His Majesty bowed, and a faint +smile came to his lips, but oddly enough, and quite beyond my own +volition, I found myself, as I watched him, repeating some dreary +words, ‘_A stranger in a strange land_!’ He did not look glad to be +among us; there was no response in his eyes to the welcome we gave him. +He came to his own, and though they received him joyfully, it was as +though he knew them not.” + +Was this, I have often wondered, the reason of it all--of the +disappointment, the disillusion, the tragedy of his coming? My heart +aches still to think of it. He was worn out with hardships and anxiety +(those who knew what his life had been for the last three months know +that), the weather was bitterly cold, his country--our country--lay in +the inhospitable grasp of winter, and he had a price set upon his head. +He felt ill in body, for on the next day he was taken with an aguish +distemper which kept him from moving for several days, and uneasy in +mind, for already he had doubts of the wisdom of his undertaking. We +know that he was not born “under a dancing star” as Mr. Shakespeare’s +“Beatrice” hath it, and for that reason much is to be forgiven him; +but oh! we in Scotland need to be melted by a merry smile, or a kindly +word, or a genial manner, or we may be taken by storm by something +more forcible than these; but let our coldness be met by coldness, +our shyness by a greater shyness, or our enthusiasm by indifference, +then the icy crust that covers our fire grows harder and harder, and +the dour pride that oft makes the Scot a trouble to himself, as well +as to others, forbids the breaking down of the barrier for ever. He +lacked something, our poor King, that vital something which his uncle, +King Charles II., and, as I understand, his son Prince Charles Edward +(neither of them so just or so virtuous as himself), possessed to the +full--the power to draw all hearts to him, to persuade the reluctant, +to confirm the wavering, to inspire the doubtful with confidence--the +personal human charm, without which no leader of men can achieve great +things. + +Upon the recovery of his Majesty, he and his attendants came south by +slow degrees to Brechin, to Kinnaird, to Glamis, and then to Dundee. +At this place he was received with great enthusiasm by the populace, +and sat for about an hour on horseback in the market-place, while the +eager people flocked to kiss his hand. From Dundee he went to Fingask, +the seat of Sir David Threipland, where he lay that Saturday night, and +next day being Sunday he arrived at Scone, within two miles of Perth. + +Now, if the joy had been great at the news of the safe arrival of the +King, with whom you must remember it was supposed were thousands of +troops and much treasure, the disappointment and chagrin on learning +that he came almost alone were great in proportion. And when it was +discovered that neither he nor the Earl of Mar were moving actively +in the matter of defending the town, or taking steps to meet the +enemy, much discontent arose, and the whole place was in a state of +dissatisfaction. My Lord Mar attempted to pacify them by spreading a +fresh report of help coming from France; the presence of the young +Lord Tinmouth, the Duke of Berwick’s son, was pointed to as a proof +that the Regent was now inclined to the Cause; General Hamilton was +again in Paris urging our necessity, and the Duke of Argyle’s men +were wavering and deserting, it was said, day by day. The weather and +the state of the roads were also given as a reason for inaction, and +there was much talk of the coming Coronation at Scone. But all this +availed little, and when it transpired on the arrival of one of our +spies from Stirling, that Argyle was reconnoitring the roads, and +making preparations for having them cleared of the snow, with a view +to laying siege to Perth, the excitement rose to fever-heat while +the dissatisfaction gave place to joy. Was it conceivable that they +should remain, they said, to be slaughtered like badgers in their holes +without making a fight for it? No, it was impossible; they could remain +no longer inactive, and at once preparations were begun for defending +the town, planting guns, digging trenches, throwing up breast-works and +the like, which gave the impatient people something to occupy their +thoughts, though, as you know, the work was quite ineffectual, for +the town would have been very easily taken had the Government troops +advanced upon it. + +And now comes one of the saddest incidents in all this sad history; +an instance of the cruelty of war upon the innocent, who must often +suffer, though guiltless of either crime or provocation. I know not in +whose brain the unhappy thought first had birth, and indeed, as Sir +Anthony now tells me, the idea itself, from a strategic point of view, +was not altogether a mistake. But to us it came as a shock so grievous +that for a long time we could scarce bear to talk of it, and in that +way, perhaps, we did both the thought and the action injustice. + +Upon a second attempt of the Duke of Argyle to view the roads from +Dunblane to Auchterarder, which he made accompanied by General Cadogan, +who we heard had been sent down from London for the very purpose of +hastening the Duke’s movements, the leaders at Perth became so alarmed, +having thought themselves secure while the severe weather lasted, that +an order was given out, signed alas! by the King, for the burning of +the villages of Auchterarder, Crieff, Blackford, Dunning and Muthill, +with all corn and forage which could not be carried off, so as to lay +waste the country between Stirling and Perth, in order to embarrass the +Government troops. + +Now to my mind, and to many others at the time, this cruel order was +resultant of nothing but misery to those who had no right to suffer, +for although it gave to Argyle’s men the inconvenience and discomfort +of camping for two nights on the bare ground, it neither detained them +in their progress, nor disordered their arrangements, seeing that on +so short a march ’twas possible to carry both forage and vivers with +them. We know that the King was most reluctant to sign the order, and +that two days after he writ a letter to the Duke, begging him to employ +a certain sum of money to be paid out of his own scant treasury, for +compensating the unfortunate people so harshly deprived of their homes. +The letter was, I am told, suppressed, but of the King’s regret and +of his kind intentions I have never entertained the slightest doubt. +Indeed, the Earl of Mar let it be widely known that his Majesty wished +it given out, that if any of the poor folk pleased to come to Perth, +they should be maintained and all care taken of them. Howbeit the deed +was done, and many a long day would pass ere the memory of it should +die away. + +And now in Perth the Council sat all night deliberating what should +be done, and messengers were posting constantly between that place +and Scone, for the great men could not come to an agreement. On one +side was the military party, who, knowing the minds of the soldiers +on the matter, were all for fighting and that at once. On the other +side were the Earl of Mar and some of his friends, who said they were +not willing thus to risk the safety of the King. It was suggested to +the latter that the King’s presence was not necessary in a battle, and +that if he were placed in security, his faithful adherents would prove +their loyalty by fighting for him to the death. They were ready, they +said, to die for him; but not to turn their backs like scoundrels and +poltroons without striking a blow for him who had come so far to trust +his person and his fortunes in their hands. Words ran high, and some +of the Highlanders _ruffled_ the great men in the open streets, and +told them in plain terms that they were betraying the King rather than +helping him. One who was thus accosted, a friend of my Lord Mar’s, +stopped to answer them, and Mr. Fleming heard this conversation pass +between them. + +“Why, what would you have us do?” said the gentleman. “Do!” says the +other. “What did you call us to arms for? Was it to run away? What did +the King come hither for? Was it to see his people butchered by the +hangman, and not strike a stroke for their lives? Let us die like men +and not like dogs!” “What can we do?” cries the nobleman to these brave +words. “Let us,” says the Highlander, “have a council of war, and let +all the General Officers speak their minds freely, the King himself +being present, and if it be agreed there not to fight, we must submit.” + +Some went further than this, for one bold chief threatened them, +that the loyal clans would take the King from them, and then if he +were willing to die like a Prince he should find that there were ten +thousand gentlemen in Scotland who were not afraid to die with him. + +As some said one thing and some another, the tumult and disorder +increased, till at last some of the wiser among the officers quieted +the soldiers by assuring them there would be a council held that night, +that the King begged them as his good friends to abide by what was then +decided, as he was resolved himself to do: either to put it to the +hazard and take his fate with them, or if otherwise advised to abide by +that. + +Accordingly, the Grand Council met, and much was said on this side +and much on that, but from what I was told by Mr. Fleming, it seemed +that all the talk was only for show, for the meeting was adjourned +without any decision having been come to. Next morning, however, a +select number having been called together, the Earl of Mar confided to +them in secret, that owing to many circumstances which he considered +it inconvenient to divulge, he found it advisable not only to beat a +retreat from Perth, but to put an end to their design for the time +being. ’Twas whispered, he said, that there were traitors in the camp, +men of high standing, who were already conspiring to seize upon the +person of the King and deliver him up to the Duke of Argyle. It was +almost incredible, said the Earl, that such a thing could be; but with +a free pardon and £100,000, even an honest Scotsman might be tempted. +Finally, as the Duke was now within a few miles of Perth, it was +absolutely necessary that we should evacuate the town. + +After this, said my informant, there was nothing more left but to +acquiesce in the decision, though by many it was done with a very bad +grace. That the King himself was sorely grieved, I make no doubt, and +it was with a heavy heart, I trow, that he consented to leave Scone, +and to follow his army across the Tay. That river being frozen hard +they were able, horse and foot, to pass over as if upon dry land, and +quickly as they had acted they were but just in time, for, expresses +having carried the news of the retreat to the enemy, a body of dragoons +entered the town the very next day. To the majority of our officers +no further instructions had been issued than that the army was to +retire upon Aberdeen, so that what followed after came upon them as a +cruel surprise, and by many of them, I feel sure, ’twas never either +understood or forgiven. + +And now, if you please, I must leave Head-quarters, and return to Alva +to let you know how things were going there. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +HOW WE HEAR TIDINGS THAT MAKE OUR HEARTS ACHE, AND ILL PREPARE US FOR +THE GREAT SURPRISE + + +The short afternoon was closing in. The snow was falling steadily and +soft, for there was no wind and the frost still held. We sat at work in +the hall, being gathered there for warmth, for in this hard winter when +so many poor were abroad, my lady thought shame to burn coal freely, +choosing rather to give it away to her poorer neighbours, who, you may +be sure, blessed her for the thought. She had bidden us bring our work +and sit by her as she span, for she knew how restless and unhappy we +were, and hoped perhaps to ease her own burdened heart by friendly and +intimate talk. + +We had that day had news which moved my lady sadly. For General +Cadogan, who shortly before had arrived at Stirling, having been sent +from the Court in London to urge the Duke of Argyle to immediate +action, had brought with him an order to deprive Colonel Erskine of +the Command of the Castle, and to send him, together with his son, +John, under a Guard to London, where he was to be lodged in the Fleet +prison. The thought of the poor old gentleman being made to suffer the +hardships of the long journey in this cruel winter weather, was very +bitter to us all, and to be obliged to sit helpless and do nothing but +talk, was, as Betty cried impatiently, the worst of it. + +“I am convinced,” my lady said, again and again, “that nothing can be +found against them save their relationship to Sir John, and my Lord +Mar’s friendship for the Colonel, and that, as you know, has lasted +many years and is quite unconnected with this affair. ’Twould be +unreasonable indeed to think it.” + +“Oh, sister,” cried Betty vehemently, “do you think those fools have +any reason? If they had, would they not know that it is _they_ who are +in the wrong, and stop all this cruel opposition? But for poor Colonel +Erskine I agree with all you say, and I must own I hope the good +gentleman may be treated with all the care and respect he deserves.” + +“’Tis done to spite the Earl of Mar,” said my lady, “you may be sure. +The Governorship has been in his family for hundreds of years, and my +uncle holds it for him as his Lieutenant. I am not so blind as not to +see they are in the right to make a change at such a time, but ’tis +neither kind nor just to send a harmless old man to prison at such a +distance, in weather like this.” + +“Who will take his place, madam, think you?” asked I. + +“’Tis an open secret that the Government will offer it to Lord Rothes,” +said Betty. “That has long been talked in Fife.” + +“Well,” said my lady, “he is a humane and generous enemy; we have +little to fear from him. If only they had confined the Colonel in +Blackness or Edinburgh Castle, and saved him the horrors of that long +journey to London.” + +And again the tears came to her eyes, for there was a tender friendship +between these two, and my lady would have guarded the old man with a +daughter’s care. + +There was nothing to say to comfort her, and we sat silent, weaving our +sad thoughts into our work as women will, for each of us had, as you +know, our private weight of woe. My own heart was away with the King’s +army, wondering and pondering over the welfare of one of his least +important officers; poor Betty, I knew, was following her brother in +his ignominious flight, and my dear lady, besides her other troubles, +had ever the fear for Sir John’s safety upon her mind. + +It was while we were sitting thus, wrapped in gloom, that a messenger +arrived with news for my lady. With a sigh she bade him enter, fearing +that, like Job, she was about to hear of disaster upon disaster. And +so, indeed, it proved. This man was come to tell us how his Grace of +Argyle had set the country people to work, to the number of about two +thousand, to clear the roads of the snow, so as to make it possible +for his army to march to Perth; and scarcely was he finished speaking +when there arrived one of our neighbours, Mr. Abercrombie of Tullibody +I think it was, who broke to us the awful news of the burning of the +villages. I will not shock you now by describing the way in which the +deed was done, for officers, I suppose, are not wholly responsible +for the actions of the soldiery, and sure I am that those who gave +the order had no thought of thieving, or plundering from the poor +people, whom they believed themselves obliged to render homeless; but +neither was it necessary to take them by surprise at four o’clock in +the morning, and turn them out of their beds in scant attire in the +bitter cold. Long before Mr. Abercrombie, himself much moved, had come +to an end of his recital, we sat horrified and with streaming eyes +around him, seeing as he spoke the women with their infants, the feeble +old men, the tottering children, hungry and naked, driven ruthlessly +through the snow. + +“And who dare issue an order so monstrous?” cried Betty at last, being +ever the first to find her tongue. “Who among our people could invent +so diabolical a measure?” + +“Ah, madam,” said our guest sadly, “all is fair in war ’tis said, and +if we can embarrass the enemy we think little of the means taken to do +so. The order was signed by the Chevalier himself, as was necessary, he +being at the head of his army.” + +“I’ll not believe it!” cried Betty. “He is a humane and gentle prince. +I’ll never believe he understood what he wished them to do.” + +“Why, Bess, my dear,” said my lady, “’twas sure not by his good will +’twas done; but can you not see that if his General Officers advised +it, the King must put his name to the order?” + +“Ay, sister,” wailed Betty, “and can _you_ not see the folly of it, +even apart from the cruelty? I say that they have betrayed their King. +Who will believe in the reluctance of his Majesty? Who will ever know +anything of it? Whatever happens now, this deed that has been done +in his name will cling to the memory of the people. Whenever he is +mentioned their hearts will burn within them at the thought of it. +Never, never will they do him justice, but will remember him only as +the cause of their misery and ruin for ever.” + +My lady bowed her head sadly, and I wept the more, for Betty’s burning +words fell upon our ears like a solemn prophecy, and we knew that her +words were true. ’Twas indeed a miserable and mistaken act, long, long +to be rued among us. + +“I hear,” said Mr. Abercrombie, “that the barony of Dalreoch, belonging +to Mr. Haldane of Gleneagles, is utterly destroyed; straw and corn and +fodder being heaped around the houses and then set alight, and the +servants and farm people having barely escaped with their lives. They +looked to find horses and cattle for their use, but those have long ago +been carried off.” + +“I am sorry for my sister,” said my lady, “but they suffer only with +the rest; and she at least has the comfort of knowing that her husband +is on the safe side of the fence. We are told, sir, that the Duke is +pushing on towards Perth. Is it known in that town of his approach?” + +“Oh, without doubt,” replied our visitor, “and for some time they have +been occupied fortifying the place; but I have private information, +madam, that ’tis likely the army may retire to Aberdeen, rather than +stay to be besieged in Perth. And after all this may be the safer +method to draw Argyle further from his base.” + +“Why, indeed, I am glad to hear this,” cried my lady, (for since the +departure of her brother from Perth, we had heard but little news from +that quarter); “they will fight him further north, and for one thing +they will be nearer the sea, so that the troops when they arrive from +France may be able to join them without delay.” + +I thought that Mr. Abercrombie looked dubious at the mention of troops, +but he did not discourage my lady, and after some more talk, which I am +bound to say he endeavoured to lead into a more cheerful channel, he +went away. + +But it was impossible to hide from ourselves, and from each other, +that our hopes were very faint indeed and our fears greatly increased. +We could talk and think of little save those poor, starving, suffering +folk in the Stewarty of Strathearn, and many were the plans arranged +by Lady Erskine to send them help of food and clothing, tho’ the poor +about her own doors were numerous and necessitous enough. + +Meantime the enemy, having once begun to act, seemed bent on losing no +more time. The great fall of snow, which was everywhere two or three +feet deep, was followed by another hard frost, and the roads were thus +rendered extremely difficult. But the Duke, urged on by his orders from +Court, was only waiting for the arrival of some regiments from Glasgow, +and artillery from Berwick and Edinburgh. The storm having delayed a +train of artillery from England under Colonel Borgard, it arrived in +the Roads of Leith late one Saturday afternoon, and marching with all +possible speed to Stirling, reached that place in time to join the main +army in its march northwards. Once again upon a Sunday could be seen +the dark stream of horse, foot, and artillery winding slowly along +the snowy road, and though the Duke went no further that day than to +Dunblane, a detachment was sent forward to the Castle of Braco, which +however they found deserted. And still we had to sit and nurse our +fears in patience, and for a whole long week we suffered the martyrdom +that women in all ages of the world have suffered, that of sitting at +home and waiting. + +All sorts of rumours continued to fly about, and friendly neighbours +came to discuss whatever they heard. There had been a battle--the +King’s army was stricken--nay, the French troops had arrived in time +and Argyle had had the worst of it. There had been no fight, but half +the Highland chiefs had surrendered and asked for protection, indeed +they had delivered the King’s person to his Grace of Argyle who was +bringing him in triumph to Edinburgh; or again the King had been +crowned at Scone, and upon hearing of it the greater number of Argyle’s +soldiers, excepting always the Dutch troops, had deserted to the enemy. +These and other wild stories were afloat, to be listened to, frowned +at, laughed over, and, for the most part, rejected, but nothing so wild +and improbable as the truth ever entered our heads. + +It was not until Tuesday, the 7th of February, that the final blow +came, and again it was Mr. Abercrombie that brought the news. The +King’s army had evacuated Perth, it is true, and under General Gordon +had retired upon Aberdeen; but the King, accompanied by the Earl of +Mar, and one or two other noblemen, had embarked at Montrose three days +before, and were now well on their way back to France. + +It was impossible to palliate or disguise the bitter fact, and our +informant blurted it out in the shortest and plainest words. What +terror we were in, what surprise and disappointment, what shame and +chagrin we suffered, I will leave you to imagine. By degrees we learnt +that there had been no council held by the General Officers before +taking this step, that only a few intimates of my Lord Mar knew of it, +and that the rest were full of rage and indignation, considering that +they had been betrayed and abandoned to the enemy. That the King had +been persuaded it was the best and wisest thing he could do, believing +that with his removal the Rising would collapse, the army disperse, and +the country become quiet, we could not of course have any doubt. But +when all was said and done, the vengeance of the Government was still +to be reckoned with, and he had left them to face it alone. It was +not by my lady nor her sister that any censure was passed upon their +beloved King, nor did they voice their opinion of my Lord Mar in any +way to blame him. But those outside the house were not so discreet, and +indeed it added to our pain to hear the free comments that were made +upon the affair. + +In the meantime, where was Sir John; what had become of the Master of +Sinclair, whose wisdom and foresight Betty now extolled to the skies; +and what, oh, what of Barbara’s lover, too insignificant to all but +herself to be worthy of mention in the general reports? I can tell you +there were three sorrowful women at Alva in those days, and the saddest +of all perhaps was my Lady Erskine, who went about with folded lips +and fear-haunted eyes, forcing herself to her daily tasks, as she told +me after, “with a thousand pins and needles in her heart.” + +By degrees we heard fresh tidings: how General Gordon had abandoned +Aberdeen, after occupying it for only two days; how the army, upon +deciding that each man must shift for himself, had dispersed in various +directions, promising however to come together again upon word received +from the King; how many of the officers and noblemen had embarked in +ships for France and Sweden; and how others, less fortunate, were +hiding in the mountain-districts of the Highlands, expecting, as was +natural, to be hunted by the Government troops, and waiting till they +also could find ships to bear them to the Continent. But all this time +not a word of our good Sir John. We watched my lady’s face grow whiter +and more worn, and longed in our helplessness to comfort her. + +“Why, oh why, does he not contrive to send word to her?” cried Betty, +the tears in her eyes. “He cannot be dead. I defy them to keep him +prisoner; and if he be anywhere in Scotland he could surely have sent a +messenger of some sort to Alva. But men are all alike, thoughtless and +selfish, and have little care for the unfortunate woman at home once +they have left them.” + +I forgave the bitterness of her tone knowing how her heart yearned +after her eldest brother, for no news had been received for long, and +her words applied equally to him. But the very next day relief came. + +We had but just finished dinner when a noise in the lobby attracted our +attention, and Charles rising and running to the door called out: “’Tis +Andrew! Oh, mama, Andrew Short is returned. And why did you not bring +my papa home again, Andrew? Where is he?” + +Trembling and agitated we rose to greet him, for Andrew had been with +Sir John, and we dreaded what his tidings might be. A sore-stricken and +weary man was he that entered the room; so woe-begone his countenance, +so shame-faced his mien that I for one feared the very worst. “Andrew, +where is Sir John?” cried my lady, running up to him, and looking in +his face with such haggard anxiety in her eyes as touched the good +fellow to the heart. + +“Sir John is safe, my leddy!” he said quickly, in a hoarse voice, “or +ye never wad hae seen me here. But does yer leddyship ken whaur the +King is, an’ his freend, the Earl o’ Mar?” + +“Alas, yes! my good Andrew, and our hearts are heavy enough at the +knowledge, and all it means to Scotland. But you are spent and hungry, +and though you must satisfy me about Sir John, we will wait till you +are warmed and fed before you give us further news. You have a letter +for me, belike?” + +She looked at him eagerly, and her face fell when he shook his head. + +“Na, my leddy, nae letter. Sir John wadna trust a written line; but I +was tae tell ye he sailed for France on the second day of this month, +that was twa days _afore_ the ither folk took their leave, ye ken, mem. +And landed safe he is, I mak’ nae doot, by this time.” + +My lady sank down upon a chair, and covered her face with her hands for +a little space. + +“Thank God!” she said at length, “he is at least beyond danger. But can +you not tell me more, Andrew? Who sent him away, and for what purpose?” + +“My leddy,” said the man, “I canna tell ye mair than Sir John tellt me, +and that was that he had orders tae sail for France from Montrose on +the Thursday nicht, wi’ despatches, he said, tae the Queen; that I was +tae bide whaur I was for twa days, and then tae come hame as fast but +as secret as I could manage it, and bring his love and kind respects +tae yer leddyship, and tell ye he was gane awa’ tae France.” + +And though we questioned him closely he had no more to tell us of the +matter. After he had been sent away to rest and be fed, my lady looked +at us uneasily. + +“I must send an express to Charles Erskine this very night,” she said, +“to give him news of his brother. But why has Sir John sent me no +instructions as to what he wishes me to do?” + +“Indeed, sister,” said Betty, “it surprises me that Sir John did +not acquaint you with his plans when you saw him at Dysart. It is +impossible he did not know something of what was to happen, for he was +ever in the confidence of my Lord Mar. Why did he not prepare you for +this?” + +“God knows,” said my lady, in sad perplexity, gazing out of the window +at the snow-clad world; “and He alone knows what will happen to us now.” + +“Perhaps if Sir John knew anything he was bound to secrecy,” cried I, +who could not bear to hear my kind guardian blamed even by those who +loved him. “But tell me, dear madam, what is’t you fear?” + +“Vengeance, Barbara,” she answered, with sombre earnestness, “the +vengeance of the reigning house. Sir John is no longer a trusted agent +of the rightful King, he is a Rebel, an Outlaw, an Exile; and who knows +whether he may not be attainted, and all his estates forfeited to the +Crown?” + +“What’s forfeited, mama?” cried little Charles. “Oh, I do want my papa +to come home,” and at that my lady caught the boy to her breast, and +broke into a fit of wild weeping, pouring out her anguish, poor soul, +to us who wept with her, all the more freely that she had hitherto kept +her feelings so well under control. + +But the express was sent that afternoon to Edinburgh, and the very +next evening Mr. Erskine was with us. Kind and calm and cheerful, +it is impossible to exaggerate the helpful influence he exercised +upon us. He combated my lady’s fears, telling her that though it was +impossible to know yet what parliament might or might not decide, he +had great hopes that, as the Rebellion had not gone far, they would +not act with extreme rigour. Again, he said, although Sir John had +shown himself active in the Cause, he had many friends upon the other +side, all of them in good odour with the Government; and everything +that could be said or done in Sir John’s favour, to create a feeling of +confidence, would, he knew, be willingly carried out. In the meantime +he thought there was nothing to do but to wait quietly and see what +should transpire. His one anxiety seemed to be that his brother, Sir +John, in his impulsive way, might decide at once to settle abroad and +desire his wife to come to him with their children, and this he thought +would be unwise, as it would mean abandoning his estate to whoever +might be ready to seize it. Patience and silence were the two things +he recommended, besides promising my lady all the help in his power +whenever she should desire it. The letter of the thirteenth of February +was written while Mr. Erskine was in the house with us, and in it you +will see that my dear lady had schooled herself to write quietly and +moderately. The very day before she wrote, poor Betty had been somewhat +comforted by receiving a letter from her brother, who wrote to her on +the eve of his sailing for France. + +He had, after many hardships, got as far north as Kirkwall in the +Orkney Islands, and from thence to Stromness, where, with several +others, he seized a ship with a French pilot on board and set sail for +Calais. Her mind was therefore at rest about his person, though like my +lady she dreaded on his account the impending _vengeance_ which had all +the horrors of the unknown. + + +LETTER IV + + MY DEAREST LIFE, + + It was no small satisfaction to me in the present + state of affairs to hear you was gone. It is what I shall bless God + for while I live. Your servant’s return was the first account I had; + tho’ my grief was unexpressable the thoughts of your safety did + mitigate it very much. It was impossible but you did foresee what + wold happen when I was with you, and if you did, you were much to + blame not (to) tell me your thoughts of itt, and what methods should + be taken for your private affairs. Charles is here just now and most + kindly offers to doe all in his power, as I doubt not all your other + friends will; but he expected I wold have had a method from you. + Whether you did not imagin so suden an end, or would not give mee a + sore heart befor the time, I know not. + + Now let me beg of you, as you regard me and your children, not to + have any uneasy thoughts about us. I am not afraid of want of sober + bread for them and myself; but as I told you the thoughts of your + being in pinches is very Bitter, and the prospect I must have of + being absent from you for some time, and perhaps for ever, is what + imploys my thoughts night and day. But why should I complain of what + God in his wise providence has ordered as a just punishment for the + abuse of many mercys. Let us then, my Dearest, submit with patience, + and trust in that mercyful Father who has hitherto preserv’d you + from so imminent dangers, that He will, in His own good time, give + us a comfortable meeting, and to live as becomes the children of + affliction, in endeavouring to set our hearts above the world and the + vanitys thereof. + + I am most impatient to hear from you, and if ye knew what a relief it + wold be to have a letter, you wold (have) writ the moment you landed. + The person mine is directed to wold find a way to send one to me. I + was heartily sorry you was not better provided with money, but if + you please to take 100 pound from Mr. Gordon, and make him draw on + his correspondent at Edinr., I shall endeavour to have it ready on + some day’s sight. I am to beg (you) earnestly to let me know what + resolution you have taken as to the place of your abode, and not to + be sudden in resolving, but to let me know what you intend, and I hop + as you regard my quiet you will not doe anything till you have my + consent. I must see what shape things will take here, before I can + frame a resolution of seeing you.... There was a great consternation + amongst your freinds att the departure of two great men that followed + you, and I find the not acquainting them with it is thought hard. I + hear they keep still together, but that cannot doe long, God help + them! You are lucky in your misfortune that you have kind freinds + that are both willing and capable to serve you, and I am hopeful by + their means to be in a better state than many others, which is great + deal more than we deserve. + + Now let me again beg of you to writ freely to me, and tell me every + uneasy thought you have, and make youself as easy as possible, and + put in practice the virtue of resignation which you have so often + talkt of to me. The more frequently you writ I will be the easyer. + Your children are well, but poor B. is in great affliction for her + brother and talks of leaveing me. Charls and all freinds here salute + you, and I am, my Dearest, Life, + Yours, + + Fe. 13. + + I must say Charls makes all the kind offers to me that you + can imagine. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +TELLS OF FURTHER SAD DOINGS, AND OF THE BEAUTY AND BURDEN OF THE SPRING + + +The relief of pouring out her heart to her husband was, as my dear +lady once told me, very great, and I think it a real mercy that she +could not foresee how long her letters were to be of reaching him. That +they eventually did so, their presence before me is proof; but many +of them are endorsed as having been received many weeks, nay, months, +after they were written. My lady was so anxious to set Sir John’s mind +at rest about herself and their children, so troubled on the score of +money for his sake, and so uncertain as to what his next movements +might be, that you can picture to yourselves her distress at not +hearing either from or of him week after week. In spite of her care in +seeking to provide him with money, Sir John seems at first to have been +in straits for want of it, and it will interest you to know that among +these papers there is a letter from the Queen’s Private Secretary, Mr. +Dicconson, endorsed--“Came with the bill of 600 livres,” which I shall +copy here. + + St. Germain + Mar. ye. 6. 1716. + Sir, + + I am ordered by the Queen to send you a small bill presuming you + may be at present want of a little money, which her Majesty is + troubled her circumstances will not permit her to make more + considerable, but hopes she may be better able hereafter and that + this might be a present supply. I beg you will please to do me the + justice to believe that I am with all imaginable sincerity and esteem, + + Your most humble and most obedient servant, + (Signed) W. Dicconson. + +I remember that when my lady heard of this thoughtful kindness on the +part of her Majesty, who out of her poverty endeavoured to help all who +were suffering through their loyalty to her son, she could not refrain +from shedding tears. + +But this information came to Alva many weeks later. In the meantime, we +hoped for letters from day to day, and had pain and anxiety enough in +hearing of the many calamities that every hour came to our knowledge. +Our hearts were wrung by the news of the sentence pronounced against +Lords Kenmure, Derwentwater, Nithisdale and others; and eagerly did we +await the result of the many petitions presented to the King for their +reprieve. How we prayed in private, and spoke in public about them and +the heart-broken wives, Ladys Kenmure, Derwentwater, and Nithisdale, +who, braving the King’s displeasure, and in the case of the last, his +determined wrath, in order to beg for mercy for their beloved husbands, +made every effort to save them from death. How bitterly we wept on +hearing of the executions that took place on Tower Hill one dreary +day in the end of February. But no tears were of any avail; only the +memory of two brave and innocent men lived long in the hearts of Scots +and English alike. My Lord Kenmure died professing his loyalty to +King James; and the young Earl of Derwentwater, much loved and long +lamented, gave to the Sheriff on the scaffold a paper containing his +dying profession of innocence. Part of this paper I copied in my little +diary, and here I reproduce it for those who never saw it. + + “Wherefore if in this affair I have acted rashly it ought not to + affect the innocent; I intended to wrong nobody, but to serve my + King and Country, and that without self-interest, hoping by the + example I gave to have induced others to do their duty. And God, who + sees the secrets of my heart, knows I speak truth.... I die a Roman + Catholic.... I freely forgive such as reported false things of me; + and I hope to be forgiven the trespasses of my youth by the Father of + Infinite Mercy into Whose hand I commit my soul. + + (Signed) JAS. DERWENTWATER.” + +Such brave, gentle, innocently touching words! Do you wonder that +they dared not bring the poor, headless body openly from London to +the north, but had it carried thither by night, bringing him home +by stealth to his weeping and distracted people, who believed that +the wrath of Heaven would surely fall upon the doers of this awful +deed. It was said that the Duke of Argyle, travelling to London, met +the mournful procession on its way, and was so struck by the grief +and despair of the people that he represented to the Government the +unwisdom of their act, and thereby helped to turn their hearts to +clemency. + +It was with a shock of relief and joy that we heard immediately after +this of the escape of my Lord Nithisdale out of prison. Long years +afterwards I was told the whole story of his brave wife’s devotion: +how she made the journey from Scotland to London mostly on horseback, +the snow, which often reached to her horse’s girths, having stopped +the Stagecoach, and even the Common Post, south of York. In spite of +this she arrived safe and sound at London, only to find that no one to +whom she applied could give her any hope, and that even the doors of +her husband’s prison were closed against her, unless she consented to +share his confinement. This, for reasons of her own, she refused to +do, but by bribing the guards she contrived to see him several times +and confided to him her plans. When she presented her petition to the +King, the latter refused so much as to look at her, but treated her +in a way not much to his honour or credit. However, on the very eve +of the execution, as you know, she contrived by the help of her maid +(a faithful woman) to dress my lord in female clothes, and bring him +out of the prison under the very eyes of the guard. It happened that +the coach of the Venetian Ambassador was to go that night to Dover +to meet his brother, who was arriving as his guest in England. Lord +Nithisdale, attired in the Ambassador’s livery, joined the retinue, +and by help of friends at Dover hired a boat which landed him safe at +Calais. His lady’s brave work was not yet finished, for she journeyed +back to Scotland, accompanied by her maid and one servant, lying at all +the smallest inns, and braving many hardships till she reached home. +Before going to London, she had, with the help of the gardener, buried +all the family papers; and knowing that search would soon be made, +she contrived to secure every valuable document, and take them with +her to Traquair, where her sister, the Countess, promised to preserve +them. She then returned home, saw all her neighbours, and invited the +magistrates to come and make the search for themselves; but next day +before day-break she was off again to London as before. This conduct +made the King so angry, that he said my Lady Nithisdale gave him more +trouble and anxiety than any woman in all Europe. For a fortnight she +lay concealed in London, and then escaped to France, where she joined +her lord. + +These details, as you know, I only learned long after; but the happy +fact of Lord Nithisdale’s escape, and the action of his heroic wife, +were common talk among us at the time. My dear lady envied the latter +her chance of doing and suffering for her husband, as what wife in like +circumstances would not; for sure the harder part is to sit still and +do nothing, with one’s heart alive for action. + +About this time came a letter from the dowager Lady Alva, offering +a visit to her dear daughter-in-law, Catherine, which offer went +exceedingly against my lady’s inclination. Not that she did not love +her mother-in-law--and at another time would have welcomed her gladly +to the house--but just now, with their political views so at variance +from each other, she did not see how they could meet and talk with any +show of cordiality and agreement. She could not bear, she said, to hear +Sir John blamed, and she foresaw the dowager mourning over her son’s +Rebellion, and drawing dark pictures of the future for herself and her +little lads. At the same time she was resolved not to fail in duty to +her husband’s mother, especially as by keeping friendly with her she +might incline the favour of those in authority, for old Lady Alva was a +determined Whig, and no shadow of doubt had ever touched her family. + +My lady’s brothers-in-law, Mr. Charles Erskine and Mr. Patrick +Campbell of Monzie, were constant in their care and interest for all +her concerns, and as she said herself, she was supported on all sides +by the kindest of friends. To say truth, her bitterest trouble was the +absence of her husband, and the uncertainty of the measures to be taken +by Government against the Rebels. Then, too, she was sick at heart +for the sufferings of others: the imprisonment of her uncle, Colonel +Erskine; the grief of her sister Grizel, whose husband, Mr. Paterson, +was also in exile; of Lady Kippendavie, Lady Keir, and many others; not +forgetting poor Lady Jean, my Lord Mar’s sister, who besides her sorrow +at her brother’s failure, was suffering from the like bereavement. No +news came from the Master of Sinclair, but I think my lady’s heart was +so turned against him by his conduct at Perth that she did not greatly +care what became of him, though poor Betty spoke of him constantly with +much affection and regret. + +And so the sad days went forward, and February wore to an end, and +still my lady and poor Barbara had no word of cheer to lighten their +hearts. The following letter is almost a repetition of the last, but I +give it in its place, as to me it seems like my lady’s voice, alive and +speaking. + + +LETTER V + + My Dearest Life, + + I have good reason to hop you arriv’d safe, since + I hear all the three ships that went off at that time landed safely; + but I am surprised you do not fall upon some way to let me hear from + you. I cannot express my impatience to have a particular account + where you are and where you intend to make your abode. I writ to you + the 13th of this month; I hop it has come to your hand before this + time. I told you in it to take 100 pound from Mr. Gordon and cause + him to draw upon his correspondent in Edinr. for the money. I shall + doe all that’s possible to get more again you want it. I am very easy + as to my own particular or my boys; very sober things will serve us, + and if you be well and easy in your mind and have what is necessare, + I ought to be very thankfull. I must confess I have not minded my own + misfortune. The miserys of others ha’s so much affected me, and the + concern I am in for my poor Uncle and Mr. P. and many others does so + afflict me, I can think on nothing else, and whatever way I turn my + thoughts I have nothing but dismall prospects before me. God Almighty + support all of us under so bitter a calamity and give us the right + use of it. We ought to submit with patience and trust in the mercy of + Him who hath smitten us, and if we turn to Him as we ought, He will + heal us in his own good time. + + I expect your mother here next week. You may imagine there will be + no harmony in our conversation; but I am resolv’d to make the best + I can of all things, and shal omit nothing that can be for your + interest however uneasy it may be to myself, in hops when the best + is made of your affairs the present circumstances can allow, we may + have something to live (on) together in some retir’d place, till kind + providence give a turn to bring us to our own; and if that never + happen, when we come to dye it will be all the same whether we have + liv’d in plenty or in more straitning circumstances. + + I think if things continue as they are I would leave Britain with a + desire never to see it again. I am sometimes afraid you go to Moscoe + without acquainting me; let me beg of you as you regard my life doe + not think of it, at least for some time, and if after that you think + it convenient I will go very chearfully with you to any corner of the + earth; so I beg of you resolve to do nothing of that nature rashly, + nor must you do it without acquainting me, and get my consent before + you doe it. This I beg’d in my last, and I hope (for) your complyance + if you either wish or expect ever to see me again. + + Your man, Andrew, came here some days ago, very well. I regrated he + was not with you, but if you please to let me know if you desire to + have him, I’ll endeavour to find some opportunity of sending him, and + in the meantime I shall imploy him here. Charles and P. C. will do + all in their power for manageing your affairs after the best manner, + butt I fear there can be little done by any, because all is done + by the folks who desire nothing so much as the utter ruin of this + country, and it will be a general measure. All your friends will be + at their country-seats, so if you write it must not be either to + Charles or P. C. My sister, Betty, is here and gives you her kind + service, as does poor Aunt Betty, who is in great affliction. Wishing + my dear all manner of happyness. + + I am in all sincerity, + yours. + + Fe. 26. + + The friends you left together are all dispers’d; there is none + Prisoners but Mephon (Methvine) and some others who gave up + themselves. Your boys are very well. + +At last the snow began to melt under the bright spring sun, and a +soft wind blowing from the south-west brought a gentle rain upon its +wings, which hastened the thawing of the hard ground. After a winter +of such length and severity, it was indeed a glad thing to behold the +earth, (wondrous green and fresh) pushing aside her wintry mantle and +laying bare her bosom to the sky. Small things began to force their way +through the surface of the ground, tender buds showed upon the trees, +and after the long silence the birds in garden and glen took up their +music, and sang the gladsome Life-March of the Spring. + +I walked one afternoon with my dear lady alone under the bare branches, +and tried to beguile her from her sad thoughts by talk of the opening +season which, last year, she had told me she so loved; but her face +was pale and worn, and she answered me absently, though with her +wonted gentleness. I knew her very spirit was weary, and I had no word +of comfort to give her. Presently we sat down upon a wooden bench +which the westering sun made warm with his beams, and tired of my own +listless efforts at cheerfulness, I fell into a wistful silence. All +at once a mavis on a branch behind us broke into song so sweet and +thrilling that my lady clasped my arm to hold me still. Sudden and +clear and short was his lay, and then after a slight pause he sang it +over again. In the silence and the sunlight, with the cool scent of the +damp earth in our nostrils, the bird’s singing seemed like the voice of +the spirit of gladness bidding us take joy in the renewal of life. But +strange to say it was not joy but pain that wrung my heart-strings, and +my dear lady laid her head upon my shoulder and wept. + +“Oh, Barbara,” she sighed at last, “that bird and his song, that +last year I listened to so gladly, how it pierces my heart with its +sweetness, and only makes my sadness and loneliness more grievous. It +raises in me such a longing for the sight of my dear husband’s face, +that I feel at times the pain of it will kill me! How is it possible to +live with a heart so heavy? The burden of it is sometimes greater than +I can bear.” + +“I know, I know,” I murmured; for her words did so fully express my +feelings that they seemed to come from my own heart, and indeed I +thought that I felt and suffered even as she did, knowing little, in my +ignorance, of the difference between us. For, as the tiny mountain-burn +that tinkles down the glen is to the broad, full, swiftly-flowing +river, so is the love of a maid for her untried lover to the love of +a wife for her husband, the father of her children. Something of this +thought must have come to my lady’s mind, for she turned to me very +kindly. + +“Poor little Barbara! I am sure you think you do; and I fear you must +have found me selfish and hard, in that I have spoken no word to you of +Mr. Fleming, but I deemed it best, my dear, to keep silent, hoping you +were learning to forget, or at least that you did not grieve too much.” + +“Oh, cousin!” I cried, the barriers of my reserve breaking down before +her sympathy. “He is ever in my thoughts. How could I forget? All day I +think of him, and at night I dream such dreary dreams. If I could know +where he is, or what has become of him, what would I not give? And I +let him go so coldly, madam; he does not even know that I love him.” + +“Why, as to that, my dear,” cried my lady, cheerfully, now bent upon +comforting me, “I do not think you need have any concern. Words are not +everything, Barbara, and I am sure you did not flout him.” + +“Oh, madam,” I cried, “do you think I was too bold? I would not have +him regard me too lightly, either.” + +My lady laughed. “Well, child, you are hard to please, and I must leave +Mr. Fleming to tell you his opinion of you himself. I would we could +have news of him again,” she sighed, “we know nothing since his return +to Perth.” + +“Do you think, cousin, that he also will be in danger of ‘the +vengeance?’” I asked timidly, for by this name we commonly spoke of the +dreaded retribution. + +“I cannot say, my dear; but I hope as he is young, and has taken no +prominent part, they will not make an example of him. His kinsman, the +Earl of Wigton, is in Edinburgh Castle; but his father, as you know, +is a rich and respected London merchant, who has probably friends at +Court. I have asked my brother, Charles, to find out if possible what +has become of him, but no news have reached him as yet.” + +I rose and turned my face away to hide my quivering lips. + +“It is hard to bear!” I cried. + +“My dearest,” she answered, “it _is_ hard; and I want to tell you how +greatly I admire you for your brave silence, hiding your own grief lest +you should burden me the more. I cannot thank you enough for all you +have done, and been, to me and mine at this time, but if ever I have a +daughter, Barbara, I shall name her after you.” + +With that she kissed me very kindly (though I knew of no reason for her +gratitude), but almost immediately she broke out weeping again. + +“Oh, hark to my promises,” she sobbed, “foolish woman that I am! To +talk of future children when I know not whether I be not already a +widow--God forgive me! I scarce knew what I was saying.” + +And then I took to comforting her in turn (but you know she kept her +promise three years later, when my dear god-daughter was born). Her +second breakdown was so violent and so unusual, that at first I was +alarmed for her health, but by-and-bye she quieted herself, and even +smiled as she dried her eyes. + +“Just for this once, Barbara, I have let myself weep my fill, and now +I feel the lighter for it. ’Twas the mavis set me going, and I suppose +it is not the first time that a bird’s song has caused a full heart to +overflow.” + +I never forgot the words, nor the scene; and that is the reason why +always in my mind I connect the mavis’ singing with my dear Lady +Erskine and her troubles, as I told you at the beginning of this story. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +MY LADY HEARS FROM SIR JOHN, AND I PAY MY THIRD VISIT TO DYSART + + +I have given you so much of woe and weeping that I begin to fear you +must be weary of so dismal a tale, and I am quite glad to tell you now +of a little lull in the tempest, and of a gleam of sunshine that shot +through the clouds. It was a very little thing that caused it truly; +nothing more important than a letter which arrived from Sir John at +last, but it brought the colour back to my lady’s cheek, and the light +to her eyes for a time. + +The whole household was gladdened by the news of his safety, for he was +at Paris awaiting the bidding of the King to attend him at Avignon, in +good health and spirits; and, though chagrined at the sudden ending +of all their endeavours, was hopeful that at some future time their +efforts should be crowned with success. + +I have here a small fragment of the journal which he kept on his voyage +from Scotland, of which I will give you the first extract, and the last. + + “Journal from the 2nd Feb., 1716. + Montrose. + + 2nd “Att night received my orders for going to france with + dispatches to the Queen, the Regent, and E. Bolingbroke from + the King, and to the last also from the D. of Mar. + + 9th “By 11 at night I gott to St. Germains. the Queen was not well + and laid to sleep. I delivered my letters and other commissions + to the Queen, who, about 12 o’clock, ordered me to goe + immediately to Paris and look after E. Bolingbroke.” + +Of his further movements at that particular time no record has been +kept. The letter to his wife was like himself, frank and cheerful, +hopeful and kind; with regrets for the sorrows and misfortunes of +others, but no word of grudging or bitterness about his own lost +labours. Even the servants imbibed courage from hearing of it, and the +kind neighbours who asked discreet questions of my lady scarce needed a +reply after looking at her face. + +To add to our comfort, Mr. Charles Erskine, who was again expected at +Alva, being prevented coming for some days, wrote to my lady telling +her of news he had got from the north of those whom my lady calls in +her letters to her husband his “fellow-travellers.” These were my Lord +Tinworth, the Duke of Berwick’s son, with his uncle, Colonel Bulkeley, +my Lord Talbot and my Lord Edward Drummond; and as my lady had been +exceedingly anxious on the score of the first-named, whom Sir John had +praised much as a fine, modest, and engaging youth, we were relieved, +though somewhat disturbed, to learn what was become of him. A company +of gentlemen, including the above, and amongst whom were the Marquis of +Tullibardine, Earls of Marischall, Southesk and Linlithgow, Viscounts +Kilsyth, Kingston and Dundee, Lords Pitsligo, Rollo and Burleigh, +having gone to Peterhead in hopes of finding a ship, were obliged to +return owing to the presence of a man-of-war near at hand. They had +then made their way westward towards the other coast, where ships were +expected to take them off to France, and at present, it was supposed, +were in hiding among the mountains. “Among the names,” wrote Mr. +Erskine, “of the junior officers who accompanied them I find that of +your late guest, for whom you were enquiring, Mr. Anthony Fleming.” + +So the worst part of our anxiety was passed. Sir John and my dear Mr. +Fleming lived; and although months must pass before we could think of +seeing them, or perhaps hearing aught of them, it was no longer agony +to name them in our prayers, and ask God to protect them from further +danger. + +My lady answered the welcome letter in a much more cheerful strain than +before. + + +LETTER VI + + March 12. + + Yours of the date 20 of Fe. was most acceptable to me. I delayed + answering my Dearest Life some days, expecting Charls here, that I + might learn a little from him what were people’s opinions as to our + present state ... but now I blame myself for delaying, and tho’ I + still expect Charls I have no longer patience. I hop by the letters + I have writ you will be easy as to me and your boys. I must own the + miserys of others has so much affected me that I did not think on my + own misfortune in such a manner as I wold at another time, and being + absent from you is what affects me most; but since God has been so + mercyfull to me in preserving your Life and giving you freedom and + liberty to enjoy yourself in a good country, and at the same time + affords what is needfull both for you and your family, I would be + very unworthy to complain. Let things come to the worst, I make no + doubt of getting a suitable allyment ... and there can nobody lose + a groat by you, so you may be easy on that score. Your servants are + all here, very well, which occasions me a greater family than is + convenient; but justice and gratitude obliges me to itt, and it’s + what I know you wold approve.... I have not heard of your drawing for + 100 pound as I have twice desir’d you. I can tell you there is a fund + for 200 more, so there is no need for you to straiten yourself or + denye yourself what is either convenient or proper for you. I think + you are in the right to go to a cheap place, but I could wish you had + some of your neighbours and friends, who by this time are in the same + country with you; it would make the time pass more agreeably. + + There is no Prisoners yet except such as have given themselves up, + and I am in no pain about them. I have converst with some of your + neighbours since they were disperst; but there never were people so + much confounded nor in such despair as they were in when they knew of + the departure of these people, and all blame your friend, and think + they might have done the same thing, and done it with a better Grace. + + All the Lords went to the Highlands, and the clans design to + defend themselves. I hear the forces are now ordered to go to the + Highlands. Many went to Orkney, and there ha’s taken ship. Your + fellow-travellers and others, of which number there were 70, went to + Peterhead, and could not get away, were obligt to return and join + with the clans. They will be exposed to hardships, but in such a case + there is no help.... You tell me you have something in your head that + could make us live easy, but it is not fit to write.... Well, I do + not doubt but we shall again live happy together, and in the meantime + I shall do all in my power for your interest, and shall denye myself + the pleasure of seeing you till my being here can be no longer of + use. I shall always prefer your interest to pleasing myself. Let me + know if you want A. S--t sent to you.... I forgot to tell you P. + C. is gone for London eight days agoe. There are some people here + afraid of a war breaking out with France, and in that case I wish + you had money remitted before that happened. I shall be uneasy for + not hearing from you, and in fear you should be sent messages to + Britain, which I beg of you, for God’s sake, as you regard my quiet + and life, not to undertake. I take Charls’ advice and P. C.’s in all + your concerns, and they are both in as great concern for you and + the interest of your family as it’s possible for you to imagine. I + believe all your other friends will do what’s in their power when + there is occasion. Let things come to the worst, I have no doubt but + we shall have a reasonable competence for us and our children without + being obligt to anybody. Ye know I always look to the dark side of + the cloud, and when I say so there is good grounds for believing it. + + For some time past the singing of the mavis increast my grief, but + now I am come to take some pleasure in the fields, and to bless God + you have the same liberty and priviledge which is a great comfort + to me. I begin now to put things to rights about your Hedges and + Ditches, and shall take care to keep all right while I am here; and + if it should so happen I must leave it, I hope it will fall in a + friend’s hand. Mr. R.(ose) labours your own farm, so, in spite of + all, that will afford somewhat to my subsistance. + + I am better now than I used to be when all things were more to my + mind. I mean as to my health; and since you express such concern + for me, and think my health for your interest, I shall doe what’s + reasonable to preserve it. Your children are well. Your mother will + be here this week.... May my Dearest be as happy as I wish him. + God grant him the right use of all his troubles, patience, and + submission, and preserve him from all evil. + + Yours, Dear Life, Adieu. + +On the back of this letter I find a post-scriptum in Betty’s +hand-writing; ’tis writ in the vein she used so often in speaking to +Sir John--half serious, half flippant and wholly affectionate, for she +too, was in better spirits since the arrival of my guardian’s letter. + + “Dear Sir John, + + Of all things I believe you least want my good + wishes; however, to please myself I offer them, and that with all the + sincerity and fervour, inclination and gratitude can oblige me to. + I thank God all my friends is not alike unlucky. I am in great fear + about them, if the divisions amongst the great people don’t do them + service. I pray God for a good meeting. In the meantime + + I am, my Dr. Sir J. + Your most faithful + Female Counciler. + B.” + +I remember very well the day upon which the dreaded advent of the +Dowager Lady Alva was expected. The snow was melted on the low-lying +land, though it still lay on the hills, where however it was +disappearing fast; and my lady came in her own travelling-coach from +Edinburgh, having crossed the Forth at the Queen’s Ferry. I must own +that I stood somewhat in awe of the stately dame, whom I had seen but +seldom, and perhaps the anxiety of my dear lady communicated itself to +me. As for Betty, who was a particular favourite of the dowager, she +expressed no concern; but she told me after how unhappy she had felt on +her sister’s account. + +At last a servant ran to tell us that the coach was approaching the +house, and my lady, taking her boys one in each hand, went to the door +and stood upon the threshold to welcome her with all honour. Aunt +Betty, Betty Sinclair, and Barbara stood just behind, and the chief +servants were grouped in the background, for nothing must be omitted +of respect and observance in the reception of Sir John’s mother. When +the carriage drew up, the men-servants having descended from the rumble +and opened the door, little Charles at his mama’s bidding ran forward, +and placing himself in front of the step begged his grandmother to lean +upon his support in her descent. This the old lady very good naturedly +did, and by the aid of her woman who rode with her, seemed to throw all +her weight on the child’s shoulder, which pleased him very much. As she +approached the door, my lady stepped forward and kissing her cheek, +bade her kindly welcome to Alva. + +Whatever may have been Lady Erskine’s fears and doubts she hid them +under a simple, natural manner, and it was not till the dowager was +seated in the parlour, with Harry on a footstool at her feet, and +Charles holding her mittened hand, that my lady ventured to say, and +then her voice trembled a little, + +“I would rather, madam, as you know, that Sir John were here to welcome +you himself, but in his absence you must let my little sons take his +place.” + +“Indeed, my dear daughter,” said the old lady cheerfully, “I am aware +that my son cannot be in two places at once, and as he has chosen to +absent himself from Alva, I must e’en make the best of it; in the +meantime you and the little lads will do very well.” + +Surprised and relieved my lady smiled. + +“It is good of you, madam, to come to us just now. Many would think it +right to avoid the house of a Rebel.” + +“My dear Catherine,” said the dowager gravely, “my son is my son, +and whatever he does he will never be less to me. I think it right, +however, to say before my grandchildren, my sister Elizabeth, and your +young friends, that I consider Sir John has acted wrongly, and I pray +God he may be led to see the error of his ways; but for all that, I +have no doubt but he is honest, and as he has been unfortunate, it ill +becomes us to triumph. I do not wish to hear where he is, but I trust +you have good news of him, my dear.” + +And so this dreaded meeting was over, and old Lady Alva by her +kindliness and good sense set everyone at their ease. She would not +listen to Aunt Betty’s complaints and mournings, nor did she allow her +to prognosticate evil, as had been her depressing habit of late. The +house increased in cheerfulness because of her presence, and my dear +lady had in her a firm supporter through all her troubles. + +This being so, it was proposed that Betty should return to Dysart +for a time taking me with her, as my lady was anxious to have news +of her father. The old lord was grieving sorely over the downfall of +his hopes; and the exile of his son, which, it was feared, might be +permanent, added to his anxieties and cares. The state of Scotland was +indeed to be deplored. From Stirling to Inverness there was nothing but +desolation, for it was as if a marauding army had swept it bare. “The +Dutch,” as one gentleman wrote, “have not left a chair, or a stool, nor +a barrel, nor a bottle, _enfin_ nothing undestroyed, and the English +troops very little more merciful.” General Cadogan had been ordered +north to the Highlands to hunt for the Rebel Lords, and to bring the +clans into subjection; but before going he sent out invitations to the +ladies of Edinburgh to a Ball. Oh, how my poor Betty raged and stormed +when she heard of this outrage, for so she considered it! “How,” she +cried, “could women think of dancing when half the country was mourning +in desolation?” They might rejoice that the Rising had failed, but to +dance and play over its grave was a heartless and monstrous thing to +do, and she longed to go straight to the General and give him her mind +on the subject. She called him Nero from that day forward, and never +could she hear him mentioned without some bitter word. + +The Duke of Argyle, “having gloriously finished the most laborious and +hard campaign that ever was known” (so the prints had it) had set out +for London, leaving Cadogan in command, but we did not know (nor he +either, poor gentleman) that he was actually deprived of his post as +Commander-in-Chief in favour of his subordinate; and even we, against +whom he had fought, regretted this step, for his Grace had proved +himself a very generous and tender enemy; and from all we could gather, +his humiliation came through the jealousy of his rival, the Duke of +Marlborough, in whom, as you know, we never put any great trust. + +It was in the coach on our road to Dysart that Betty spoke out to me +of her terrible grief and disappointment. I had found her very unlike +herself during this visit to Alva, silent and melancholy, but knowing +what ample reason she had for low spirits, I had passed it without +comment. It was when she caught sight of the ships in the Forth that +she began to speak. + +“Oh, Barbara!” she sighed, “to think how high our hopes were when last +I passed this way, and now it is all at an end. My heart is nearly +broken!” + +I had no words to comfort her, I could only listen. + +“Do you remember last May how confident we were? What gay visions +danced before our eyes! How we believed in those who have since proved +so frail and feeble, and scorned those who spoke of dangers and defeat, +and were bitterly angry if any hinted at failure! Why has God dragged +us through such humiliation; what has been gained? Why did He let us +attempt this thing if He meant only to overthrow us in the end? It is +cruel--cruel, I say. I would not so have treated those who trusted me!” + +“Why, Bess, my dear, your words are wild!” I cried, but she went on +unheeding. + +“And oh, that poor unhappy King, how my heart bleeds for him! He +is innocent, but he will be blamed; honest, but they will call him +a traitor; kind-hearted, but they will remember him as a monster; +courageous, but he is already branded as a coward. No man was ever +so bamboozled, so entangled, so misguided. And Barbara,” she added, +darkly, “I know who led him astray. I know whom we have to thank for +the humiliation, the anger, the bitter grief and suffering; and tho’ I +will name no names, in my heart I feel that my poor brother was right, +though he too is a sufferer in spite of his wisdom.” + +I knew very well what she meant, and told her I agreed with her, though +it was hard, I said, to believe that all our trouble had come from +_one_ man’s mismanagement. + +“Ay,” she answered doubtfully, “I catch your meaning, and perhaps the +causes are numerous and far-reaching, but I keep my opinion of one +man’s worth, and I could name a dozen who could have brought the affair +to a more successful issue.” + +“Think you, Betty,” I asked, “that your brother, the Master, will be +attainted, and poor Sir John, and Mr. Paterson and Lady Jean’s husband? +I am in great grief for them.” + +“No one can tell yet what will be done,” she said, “but if it is so, I +feel if I should like to leave Britain, and never see or speak to one +of my Whig neighbours again. I used to like my Lord Rothes very well, +but I love the old Colonel, and cannot bear to think of him in the +Fleet, while my lord is Governor of Stirling Castle.” + +“What says my Lord Wemyss?” I ventured. “Have you seen him since the +departure of the King?” + +“No,” cried Betty, very proudly. “He writ me a letter full of +gratitude, thanking me in very kind words, I must own, for my care of +his poor young son--oh, Barbara, I did so grieve to see him die! But +’twas just after the King’s landing and my mind was fixed upon him. +_Afterwards_ my lord wrote again asking if he could be of help to us in +our misfortune, which so riled me (for my heart was very sore) that I +answered him with hot and bitter words.” + +“Oh, Betty!” I cried, “I am sure he meant it kindly.” + +“Very likely,” she replied, “but there are times when even kindness is +unkind. Let us not talk of my Lord Wemyss; there are other subjects +more agreeable.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +TELLS OF AN UNEXPECTED MEETING, AND A GLAD SURPRISE FOR BARBARA + + +We found the household at the Hermitage very dull and dumpish; they +seemed like people who had received a shock from which they had not +yet recovered. My lord spoke little, and looked to my eyes many years +older and feebler than when I saw him last. David Pitcairn came about +the house as usual, making himself useful to the old man, whose younger +sons, being engaged in affairs of their own, could not be much with +him; and Mistress Mary, who was never very healthy, was staying with +her sister at Newbyth. + +The only news of interest that reached us, consisted in the reports +from time to time of the safe arrival in France, or Sweden, or Holland, +of this or that fugitive about whom we had been in anxiety. But so +far we had heard nothing of the Marquis of Tynemouth and his friends, +and my mind was divided between fears of the hardships they must be +enduring among the mountains, and hopes that they were already far +away in a safe country. My Lord Huntly had given himself up and made +terms for himself with the Government, but the Earl of Seaforth, whose +name was coupled with his as a traitor to the Cause, had in reality +withdrawn his submission, and was now retired to the Isle of Lewis with +his men. + +A few days after our arrival at Dysart there was a great storm of rain, +which lasted so continuously that the last shred of snow disappeared +from the earth. It was in truth the ushering in of the summer, early +though it was, for from that time the weather never went back, but +continued bright, warm and genial, with light winds and occasional +life-giving showers, all through that year. It seemed as if it had +been sent to compensate us for the long and terrible winter, for the +summer of 1716 proved one of the most bounteous seasons within the +memory of man. + +While it lasted, however, the rain was dreary enough, and day after +day we looked out upon a grey and sullen sea, shut in by mists and low +hanging clouds from any view of the opposite coast; and night after +night we listened to the rain beating on our window-panes, and thought +of our friends, perhaps in want of shelter, and dreamed pitiful dreams +which haunted us in our waking hours. It was a dreary week at Dysart. + +One night after supper, as I went to my chamber to fetch some work, I +was stopped by the sound of low, continuous knocking at the door I have +told you of at the foot of the turret-stair. It brought to my mind that +night when my dear lady recognised her husband’s knock, and ran, in +spite of my terror, to open to him; but so much had passed since then, +that though I was startled, I had no sense of personal fear, knowing +well that none but friends, and generally those in distress, would come +to the house that way. For this reason I did not hesitate, but placing +my taper in a niche of the wall, went hurriedly down the twisted stair, +and paused for a moment at the back of the door. The rain was still +falling though not so heavy, and behind the clouds there was a waning +moon whose light came dimly through the grated window above me. I drew +back the bolt cautiously and lifted the latch. The door was pushed open +from without, and a man entered quickly, shutting it behind him. + +“Forgive me, madam!” he whispered, “but there is danger.” + +I fell back against the wall, dumbfoundered, for the man was none other +than Anthony Fleming. + +For a few moments we gazed at each other in silence, and then without +warning I flung my arms about him and lifted my face to his. He kissed +me like one in a dream. + +“You!” I gasped. “You--and _here_! I thought you were over seas. Oh, +thank God you are safe. Last night I dreamed that I found you again, +wounded and nigh to death, and my pillow was wet when I awoke. Whence +came you? You are not ill? Oh, how I have prayed that God would send +you back, and now you are come, out of the mist and rain, straight to +my arms. How good He is--how good! But you--you did not know I loved +you, dear heart; I let you go so coldly. I have longed, oh longed, to +tell you the truth; will you believe it now? I am yours for ever and +ever; no one on earth shall ever come between us.” + +And then my breath gave out and the tears came, and I laid my face upon +his breast, trembling and weeping. + +As for him he spoke no word; but he held me in his arms, closer and +closer, as if he would keep me there for ever, and I felt his kisses on +my hair, and heard the great throbs of his heart beating against my arm. + +At that moment there was no room in all my being for anything but joy +and thankfulness; but sometimes in looking back upon this scene, I have +been troubled and have blushed hotly, as a woman will even in solitude, +remembering my bold and free surrender. Did Mr. Fleming hesitate to +speak, because of it, deeming my conduct perhaps unmaidenly? I have +never dared to ask him, but I trust he has forgotten it long ago.[1] + + [1] I have not forgotten it, my sweet wife, nor shall, “while memory + holds her seat.” ’Twas a moment to thank God for, and only a sense of + my own unworthiness kept me silent. A. F. + +Whatever it boded I could not bear his silence. I have heard that women +mostly love to voice their emotion, while with men it often renders +them speechless. + +“Will you not speak to me, Anthony?” I said. “Will you not say you are +glad to see me?” + +I had lifted my face to look at him, and though the light was dim, for +the first and only time in my life I saw tears in my dear love’s eyes. + +“Glad, sweetheart?” he murmured, “’tis like getting into Heaven.” + +And after that I did not mind the silence. It lasted but a minute, +and then he unclasped my hands, and putting me from him, gazed at me +intently. + +“Is my Lady Erskine here?” he said. “Tell me, Barbara, who is with you +in the house?” + +I told him, still speaking low, and then asked him what was the danger +he feared. + +“Tis not for myself, dear love, though I suppose it extends to us all. +But there is one whose life is infinitely precious, for whom I came +to beg shelter. I know my Lord Sinclair is as safe as he is kind, and +Mistress Betty is well reputed among us for her loyalty. It is--” + +“Stop!” I cried. “Do not tell me here. Let us hasten to Betty’s boudoir +that she may hear the news first, whatever they are. Oh, come, I cannot +bear to delay a moment.” + +Breathless with excitement and anxiety, I had almost forgotten my +own share in the event, but stopped at the door of Betty’s room to +give my friend a smile and a kindly look. Then I opened the door and +entered hurriedly. Betty was sitting by the fire, and on seeing us +rose quickly. Her face, which at first was fixed in surprise, flushed +suddenly when she recognised her visitor, and she came forward to meet +him with hands outstretched. + +“You, Mr. Fleming?” she cried. “How come you here, and whence? We have +been much exercised about your safety, but thought you were gone to +France some days ago. Are you alone?” + +“Madam,” said Mr. Fleming, “I am not, and I will tell you in a few +words why I am here. It is the young Marquis of Tinmouth and his uncle +for whom I beg shelter. They are in hiding in a wood about a quarter of +a mile from the house. I am sent to acquaint my Lord Sinclair with the +matter, and if it is safe I am to return at once and tell them.” + +Oh, how my dear Betty’s eyes lit up with joy! To think that there was +still a chance for her to show her loyalty, and do some little thing +for the Cause; to receive the King’s young relative and keep him safe, +to plan and further his escape. All this appealed to her keenly and set +her blood a-tingling with pleasure. Bidding us wait where we were she +ran to give her father the news, and when we were alone, I was able to +look at my dear with calmer eyes, and to see, alas! how worn and thin +he had become. + +“Worse, far worse, than when you departed from Alva,” cried I. + +He laughed a little. “And small wonder, Sweet; when one has spent some +weeks in the mountains, exposed to hunger and cold and wind and rain, +and burdened by the dread of capture, it is not easy to keep flesh on +one’s bones, or preserve a fresh and ruddy countenance.” + +“Have you been without proper shelter ever since the departure of the +King?” I asked in amazement. + +“Most of the time,” he answered. “We could not get away from Peterhead, +because of a man-of-war which kept watch to prevent us. We went to +Castle Gordon, where we spent a few days, and then with the other lords +withdrew westward. I will not tell you of all our trials, my dearest; +but though our young master bore them all with a very cheerful spirit, +we could see that they were telling on his strength. He is not much +more than a boy, and has never known what hardship and exposure mean. +At last it was decided that he should try to make his way south to +Edinburgh, I being sent as guide; so, travelling by night and hiding by +day, we were directed to this house, whence we hope to get shipped to +France. I knew that if the family were at home we should be taken care +of, but I little guessed the blessed welcome that was waiting here for +me.” + +And with that he put his arm again around me, and we stood gazing into +the fire in blissful silence, till Betty’s step was heard returning. + +I will leave you to imagine how the old house woke up that night from +its melancholy. Very quickly Mr. Fleming was despatched to bring in +the weary wanderers, and meanwhile rooms were made ready to receive +them, great fires lighted to warm them, and garments brought from every +wardrobe in the house to replace their worn and sodden clothing. A +great supper was quickly prepared, for good-will made all hands work +fast, and in the hearts of men and women alike pity for the fugitives +brought the desire to help and comfort them. It was thought safer to +let them enter by the turret-door; but my lord received them at the +top of the winding stair, and himself conducted the young Marquis to +his chamber, where with the aid of a warm bath and dry clothing, the +young gentleman was able to make himself more comfortable than he had +been, I should imagine, for many weeks past. + +When he entered the dining-room with his host, attired in a suit +of purple velvet with ruffles of lace, belonging to one of Betty’s +brothers, we could scarce take our eyes off his face, even in +performing our lowest curtseys, so charmed were we with his gallant +bearing and his modest and pleasant looks. When Betty very prettily +bade him welcome to her father’s house, and said how honoured they +were at the trust reposed in their family, he blushed like the boy he +was, and stammered out that the honour was his alone. He looked at the +well-spread board, the blazing fire, the lighted room, and giving a +little laugh he said, with a slight foreign accent that rendered his +speech very attractive, + +“If you could know the contrast, madam, of my surroundings this night +with those of the last few weeks, you would understand very well that +the gratitude is all on my side.” + +“What horrors you must have endured, my lord,” cried Betty. “Oh, I +fear you will bear away with you but a bitter remembrance of our +inhospitable country.” + +“Nay, madam,” he answered with a graceful gesture, “you have set aside +that possibility for ever. But here,” he went on, “is my good uncle, +Colonel Bulkeley, who has shared my vicissitudes; and I need not +introduce to you our faithful friend, Captain Anthony Fleming, without +whom we should, I fear, have been still longer in reaching this haven +of refuge.” + +These gentlemen now entered the room, and it was with great joy that I +noticed the improvement in Mr. Fleming’s looks, who, now that he had +performed his toilette, seemed neither so ill nor so haggard as I had +thought him. Thin he was and worn with his hardships, but the glad look +in his eyes gave him an air of restfulness and satisfaction which had +before been wanting. + +Colonel Bulkeley was a tall, stout man with a full, high-coloured face. +’Twas difficult to believe that he had endured the same trials that had +left the younger men so thin and pale. With my foolish woman’s caprice, +I took an instant dislike to the brave Colonel, though he made his bow +to us very low, and addressed Betty in a courteous and gentlemanly way. +Still there was about him an air of dogged superiority, which, coupled +with a somewhat hectoring manner, made him a man of uneasy temper for +other men to deal with. And even that first night as we sat through +supper, I found myself wondering how this person came to be related to +the young Marquis of Tinmouth, than whom it would have been difficult +to find a more sweet-tempered, modest and agreeable young man. + +They told us now more particularly of their adventures, taking the +precaution to speak French while the servants were in the room, and +gave us to understand that the country-people, in the districts through +which they had passed, were all well-affected towards the King. Most of +them, it must be owned, blamed the Earl of Mar for their misfortunes, +and for the disastrous ending of our hopes; for they held a firm +belief that King James could have recovered them from the troubles +brought about by the Union, and caused Scotland to enjoy a peace and +prosperity to which she had long been a stranger. The fugitives had +been directed from one house or cottage to another, and the poor folk, +as well as the rich, had, they said, given them ungrudgingly of their +scant provisions, besides sheltering them from observation during the +daylight. + +It was with a very thankful heart that Barbara laid her head upon her +pillow that night, but for some time she could not sleep for joy of +thinking of the safety of her friend, and wonder that the same roof +should shelter them both. The rain still beat on the window, but she +heeded it no longer, or only to give a passing thought of pity to any +poor wanderers still abroad; and though she knew that in a day or two +at most the dreaded parting must come again, she put the knowledge away +from her as only the young can do, and hugged her present happiness +close to her heart. + +On the following day we held a council as to the best manner of +assisting our friends in their project of leaving Scotland. And though +one would have thought that in the presence of his host, Colonel +Bulkeley should have withheld his own opinion, and paid a graceful +deference to what was proposed, I cannot tell you that it was so. +Several times that gentleman contradicted my lord without apology, and +was for insisting that his plan, namely, to go himself to Burntisland, +and there charter a ship to carry them to France, was the best that +could be thought on. This my lord denied, saying very truly that the +Government was keeping strict watch on all the ports in the Forth, and +in so small a place the risk he ran of being recognised was too great, +and it was a relief to me when Betty very gently, but firmly backed his +opinion. + +“You have placed yourselves in our care, sir,” said she with a smile, +“and you must, if you please, leave it to us to get rid of you.” + +She spoke so sweetly that no man without rough discourtesy could have +withstood her, and turning to my Lord Tinmouth she went on. + +“This, my lord, is our project. To send a trusted messenger to +Edinburgh to acquaint Captain Straton of your lordship’s presence. He +is in communication with all the honest seamen who traffic between this +country and the Continent, and it is to him we must leave the final +arrangements of your departure. The friend we have in view is one who +has already aided the King’s Cause, and who, being often engaged in +ordinary business for my father between this and Edinburgh, can go and +come without suspicion being aroused.” + +“Madam,” said the young Marquis, when she had finished, “I am ready to +put myself and my affairs in your hands, knowing well that your loyal +and kindly concern for all the King’s friends will lead you to do the +best you can for us, and I am sure that my uncle,” turning courteously +to Colonel Bulkeley, “will be satisfied with any arrangements that you +make.” + +The gallant Colonel was obliged for the moment to acquiesce and we +heard no more of his objections at that time, but later we were told, +both by Captain Straton and David Pitcairn, that he put forward many +difficulties and found much fault even with those who were doing their +best to be serviceable to him. + +The trusted messenger of whom Betty spoke was, of course, the faithful +David, who, on arriving at the house the next morning, was informed +of what had taken place, and readily consented to undertake the part +allotted to him. Some days passed, however, before anything could be +settled, for the authorities were very vigilant at that time to prevent +the escape of any rebels, and the Marquis of Tinmouth was a prize +worth capturing. Many projects were brought forward and abandoned, and +several ships’ masters, being interviewed, either declined the job, or +found themselves so closely watched that it was impossible for them to +undertake it. + +You may be sure that Barbara, for one, did not chafe at the delay, for +the presence of her lover in the house was like sunshine to her; and +in the peaceful hours they spent together, the young love that was as +yet but a tender plant was nurtured and cultivated between them, till +it grew into the perfect thing that has comforted and beautified their +whole lives. You must not forget that there was in our intercourse +a strain of that pathetic doubt as to the ultimate fruition of our +happiness, which chastened our joy and tinged it with a wild, sweet +pain. We spoke of the future at times with confidence and faith, but +would check ourselves sharply at the thought that it might never be +ours. Still, for the most part, I think that the high spirits and +hopes of youth forbade us to despair, and the shadow of parting for an +indefinite time, while it wrung our hearts with grief, served to draw +us more closely together, and make a grave and steadying back-ground to +our present bliss. + +My dear Betty, who was in our confidence and greatly in sympathy with +us both, spent her time in cultivating the acquaintance of my Lord +Tinmouth, who, she assured me, amply fulfilled the expectations she +had entertained of him. His manners were so modest and so charming, his +conversation so sensible and diverting, as to make him a very pleasant +inmate of the house. My Lord Sinclair found him also a companion to +his mind, and was surprised at his knowledge of books, his youthful +judgment, and his attention to business. In fact it would be impossible +to describe the general favour he met with, from old and young of both +sexes, for the qualities of his mind and person. + +We four spent many agreeable hours in Betty’s boudoir, while we ladies +bent over our tambour-frames, and the gentlemen entertained us with +an account of their adventures, or descriptions of the life in France +and Holland. My Lord Tinmouth spoke one day, in his frank and boyish +manner, of the match which was being arranged for him with a Spanish +young lady of the highest quality and a great fortune, no less than the +sister of the most noble Duke of Varagua. He told us that he had of +course never seen the young lady, but was informed that she was pretty +and amiable, and a portrait was being painted of her to send him for +his gratification. + +Forgetting to whom I spoke, I raised my head sharply from my work. + +“And are you satisfied, my lord, to bind yourself for life to a lady +whom you have never seen, and who may prove not at all to your taste?” + +“Why yes, madam,” he answered, smiling at me pleasantly: “the friends +who have arranged the marriage are certain to have chosen well, and you +must remember that the same doubt and uncertainty exist for Doña Inez +as for myself. It is possible she may not be pleased with me.” + +“I think there is not much danger of that,” said Betty, looking at him +very kindly, “and you forget, Barbara, _autre pays, autre mœurs_; young +ladies in France and Spain are never allowed to choose for themselves +in so weighty a matter as matrimony.” + +“Oh,” I sighed, with a look at my Anthony, who was watching me, “but I +think it is by far the best way.” + +I saw a flicker of doubt pass over my lord’s young face, and his smile +was a little wistful as he said, “It must be wonderfully pleasant, to +be sure!” + +“Ay, but it has its disadvantages, my lord!” cried Betty, briskly. +“Even young people are not always infallible. I prophesy that your +marriage will be a very happy one, and I only wish I could think we +might see you and Doña Inez together one day in Scotland.” + +“And I on my part, madam, can promise, that for any friend of yours +who comes to Spain, my house will ever be open and my welcome of the +warmest.” + +At last the summons came for our guests to be ready on the morrow, +to go disguised into Edinburgh, and take up their abode in the house +of a faithful servant of Captain Straton. The latter gentleman was +indisposed, which added to the difficulties of the case; and being +in great concern for the safety of the young Marquis (who, by the +way, went by the name of Mr. Barnes), he spent many days and nights +in nervous anxiety, till he could form a plan that would finally and +quietly dispose of him and his friends. Our good David Pitcairn came +and went, untired and undismayed, taking his commands from Betty as +usual, making at the same time his own sagacious suggestions, and +amply repaid for all his trouble by the kindness of her smile, and the +gratitude in her eyes. + +The gentlemen were to cross the Firth under cover of the darkness, +and my lord’s own boatmen were to row them over. My dear Anthony and +I had made our adieux in private before the hour of starting, and +nothing remained for us but the last embrace, a choking sigh, a few +whispered words, and, on my part, I fear, some tears that would not +be suppressed. The household, led by Betty, made no secret of their +regret at parting with “Mr. Barnes,” who took leave of his host and +hostess with words of the most courteous gratitude. We felt as sad as +though parting with a long-loved friend, and for his sake even included +Colonel Bulkeley in our affectionate lamentations. It was a still, +moonless night. The three, accompanied by David, crept down the rugged +steps to the water; and as we, watching from above, saw the boat, +propelled by muffled oars in strong accustomed hands, steal out upon +the black water and disappear in the darkness, I know not if Betty’s +sigh or mine were the deepest. + +Three days later we hailed the return of David Pitcairn with relief. +He had had orders from Betty to stay with our friends till the last, +and early that morning he had seen them safe on board a Dutch ship, +which sailed from Leith about one or two o’clock, and, as we learned +later, landed them safely in Holland, from which they made their way to +France. He did not forget to tell us that Mr. Straton had fallen under +the spell of young “Mr. Barnes,” even as we did, while his dislike of +poor Colonel Bulkeley appears to have exceeded our own. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +BARBARA IS ACCUSED OF CRUELTY AND INDISCRETION + + +The day after this we returned to Alva, bearing with us a request from +my Lord Sinclair to his daughter Catherine, that she would come and +make her abode with him in the meantime, and in the absence of his +eldest son, help him in the management of his estate. This my lady, +though greatly touched by the old gentleman’s trust in her, knew was +impossible, for indeed her presence was required at Alva for many +reasons, and she judged rightly that her first duty was to her husband +and his affairs. So far as our own case was concerned things were +growing easier, for after representing as strongly as she could, the +wrongs she had suffered in the loss of cattle, fowls, and fodder, to +those whose influence might be exercised in her favour, my lady was +relieved of this burden in the surest way possible. Her brother-in-law, +Mr. Haldane of Gleneagles, though strongly against the Rebellion, and +keen about all measures for punishing the offenders, yet suffered his +family affection to mitigate his severity in the case of Sir John’s +family. It was by his means that General Cadogan was prevailed upon to +grant a protection to my Lady Erskine to prevent her being plundered +any further, and her nephew, Mr. James Haldane, arrived one day from +Edinburgh to give notice of the same to Lord Rothes at Stirling Castle. +This, as you can imagine, was a vast relief; and as the same privilege +was extended to my Lady Jean at Bannockburn, and to Lady Keir, our +hearts were set at rest on their account also. + +Now I must tell you that some time back, when she first began to have +doubts of the wisdom and ultimate success of the Rising, my Lady +Erskine had conceived a secret project which, with great good sense, +she kept as much as possible to herself and a few friends. Since the +Battle of Sheriffmuir the working of the Silver Mine had been given up, +on account of the danger of discovery from any of Argyle’s men who then +over-ran the hills. But after hearing from Sir John in the beginning of +the year, my lady sent one day for Mr. Hamilton, and after pledging him +to secrecy, and telling him she believed in his loyalty to her and her +house, enough to trust him with an important matter, she divulged her +plan for securing the riches of the Mine. + +She made him overseer of four miners (though up till now he had but +superintended the smelting of the ore), and these he set to work in the +mine, which work, being underground and well watched, was kept very +private. + +As the ore was lifted it was stored in casks, hogsheads, or barrels, +which were buried in a vast hole that my lady caused to be dug on the +north-west side of the house just by the gate. They had managed in +this way to hide some forty tons of ore, when one morning Mr. Hamilton +appeared at the house to say that, so far as he could see, the vein +they were working had given out, and he wished to know if Lady Erskine +advised any further excavation to be made. As this would have entailed +a good deal of expense, my lady, after consulting with Mr. Erskine, +decided that at present the work should be given up, which she did with +the more ease of mind that certain rumours had got abroad of untold +riches to be found on Sir John’s estate. The great hole in the broad +walk having attracted some attention, she made it known that ’twas only +one of Sir John’s mad notions, which was not likely to be of much use, +and this according with the country people’s opinion of my guardian’s +projects, the gossip soon died down, and we hoped the danger was past. +I believe that with the treasure they collected my lady had framed +the notion of being able, when the time was ripe, to purchase Sir +John’s full pardon from the King, and in this idea Mr. Erskine and Mr. +Campbell encouraged her. It was necessary, however, to keep its very +existence private, until all danger of the knight’s being attainted +was past, seeing that, if his name appeared upon the Black List, his +whole estate was forfeit to the Crown. In the event of this happening, +my lady then designed to unearth the casks, and by disposing of the +contents in a profitable manner, to be able to follow her husband to +the Continent, where they might live comfortably with their children +for the rest of their lives. + + * * * * * + +About a week after our return from Dysart, I was walking one morning +with little Hal down the glen, where by Heaven’s kind providence I had +found my dear Anthony, when Mr. Hamilton met us, and accosted me with +his usual cordiality. Now, to tell the truth, I had almost forgotten +that I had ever had even a slight interest in this young gentleman; +and though when we met we were friendly enough, my heart being fully +occupied by the thought of another, it left me very indifferent to +strangers. I was therefore surprised when he said rather abruptly, + +“I have something of a private nature to say to you, Mistress Barbara; +can you not send the child away?” + +“What!” cried I, laughing, with no thought of what was coming, “have +you a secret to divulge? Run, Hal, and gather some of those pretty +anemones for Cousin Barbara.” + +“I suppose you have by now,” said Hamilton, “discovered the meaning of +my words last summer as to your gaining wisdom about many things.” + +“Why, yes,” I answered slowly, thinking of all that I had gained since +then, “I fancy we are all a year wiser.” + +“And sadder?” said he. + +“Ah, no!” I cried, softly, “not sadder.” + +“Are you then,” he exclaimed eagerly, “on the other side? Have you seen +the folly of that mad attempt; do you realise the character of the man +you imagined had come to rule us? Are you relieved at the issue of +events? How glad I am, Mistress Barbara, to find you so sensible.” + +“Nay, sir,” cried I, quite startled out of my private thoughts; “I +protest I do not understand you.” + +“Why, mistress,” said he, puzzled in his turn, “if you are not saddened +by the failure of the Rising, it must needs be because you think it a +lucky providence that it did not succeed. What else can you mean?” + +“The Rising! Forgive me, Mr. Hamilton, I was thinking of other things. +But how,” said I, “can you possibly imagine that I am not grieved +to the heart by the terrible happenings of the past six months, and +bitterly disappointed at the departure of the King? Can I know of the +sufferings and imprisonment of so many good friends, the deaths, the +losses, the anxiety; can I watch my dear lady’s sad face day after day, +with the knowledge of the pain she bears in her brave heart, and not be +saddened myself? I should indeed be callous beyond belief were such a +thing possible!” + +“Nay, madam,” he said, “I pray you to believe I had no such thought. +I myself am grieved enough for the calamities that have been brought +upon the country, both public and private; but I hoped that you did at +last see how wrong and mistaken was the Rebellion, and what a miserable +dastard is the man whom they sought to put upon the throne of Britain.” + +“Stop!” cried I, “I will not hear the King slandered. Misled, +mismanaged, he certainly was, but dastard--no!” + +“But can you believe he would make a good king?” cried he. “Would not +his accession plunge us into all the horrors of Romanism? You cannot +deny, madam, that the Chevalier is a Papist at heart.” + +“Why, what else would you expect him to be?” cried I. “And Pretender +as he is called, he has never pretended to be willing to give up his +religion for the sake of a crown, as another might have done. He is +honest, and devoted to his Church, as a good man should be; but he is +no bigot either, for I have heard from Sir John that he has a very +liberal and open mind towards his Protestant subjects, and I do not +believe he would ever interfere with their religion were he reigning +over us.” + +“I must beg leave to differ from you, Mistress Barbara,” replied +Hamilton. “I have seen some friends who met the Chevalier in the north, +and were bitterly disappointed in him. Did he not refuse to have +_Grace_ said at his table by any but his own private chaplain, though +there were both Presbyterian and Episcopalian clergymen present?” + +“Why,” returned I, “I think little of that. I doubt if his Hanoverian +Majesty would tolerate the benediction of a Romish priest at the Royal +table, though many of them are his subjects.” + +“Certainly he would not!” cried Mr. Hamilton. “’Twould be a monstrous +wrong if he did!” + +“And if one man is to be upheld for his narrowness, because he acts +from a sense of right, why not another?” cried I hotly. “Oh, I have no +patience with such prejudice! This cry about Religions is used but to +mask other things--politics, social ambition, party strife and personal +rancour.” + +By this time, walking slowly, with little Hal running backwards and +forwards round us, we had reached the garden, which lay bare and +orderly in the sunshine, with only a few of the early spring flowers +showing themselves in the borders. When I looked at Mr. Hamilton’s face +after my last speech, I found he was smiling. + +“You are a brave and stout partisan, Mistress Barbara,” said he, “and +I should find it difficult to move you. As it is, Providence hath +ordained that the present dynasty be established in Britain--” + +“For the time being,” murmured I. + +“And we must needs bow to that decree,” he went on unheeding. “This, +however, was not what I wished to talk of. Will you pardon me for +allowing myself to wander so far from the subject at my heart, for +indeed it is the chief thought in my life at present, and has been for +long.” + +“Pray, go on,” said I, somewhat coldly, for I was ruffled by our +discussion, and felt now more out of sympathy with my companion than +before. + +“It is now a year since first I saw you, madam, and I make no secret +of the fact that I was more struck by your appearance than by that of +anyone I ever met. Since then all I have seen and heard of you confirms +my first impressions. You are the most charming woman in the world, +madam, and I beg you to be my wife.” + +Surprise, chagrin, and anger filled my breast, mingled with a certain +shame that I should have permitted this man to go so far. I fear my +reply was both pert and rude. + +“You must think a vast deal of yourself, sir, if you imagine you are +worthy to be the husband of the most charming woman in the world!” + +He laughed good-naturedly; he was too dense to notice the disdain in my +voice. + +“No one on earth is really worthy to hold that position, madam; but I +beg you to believe that I shall count myself lucky should you dream of +giving it to me.” + +“I fear,” said I shortly, “that that is impossible.” + +“Why impossible?” he cried, only half understanding. “My family, madam, +is as good as yours; my present occupation is not to last for ever. I +mean to establish myself well, and gain a position that even you will +not disdain to share. Let me go to my lady this evening, Barbara, and +get her consent to our union.” + +How different--ah, how different was this man’s wooing! + +“Pardon me, sir,” I answered, “I cannot be your wife. Oh, will you not +understand and leave me in peace!” + +I spoke impatiently, for I wanted to be rid of him. He stood before me, +his face very white and set. + +“Listen, Barbara Stewart,” he said. “There is more depending on your +consent than you think. If you reject me thus you will regret it, not +so much for your own sake as for some of the friends you love so well. +Consider well, my girl, before you decide. You would not care to bring +disaster upon this house. After to-day ’twill be too late.” + +Angry, but scarcely alarmed, I drew myself up. + +“Do you dare to threaten me, sir?” I cried. “What mean you? Or no, I +do not care for your meanings; what you have said is enough. If you +think Barbara Stewart would marry one who would stoop to injure any +human-being of set purpose and design, you know her very little. I am +indifferent to your threats, for I do not believe in your power to do +much harm.” + +In scorn and indignation I turned away, and calling to little Henry I +walked towards the house. James Hamilton followed. + +“Is it thus you despise an honest man’s love, mistress?” he said +hoarsely. “Oh ho, my Lady Disdain, but the day may come when you will +wish that you had listened more kindly. You think lightly of my power; +you shall see by-and-bye what it can do. Barbara!” he said, and his +voice broke as he laid his hand upon my arm. “You will not be so cruel!” + +“Sir,” said I, stopping and speaking more gently, “I have answered you, +and I would beg you now to leave me. In that you have honoured me by +your regard, I thank you. If I have hurt you, I ask your forgiveness; +but a woman’s love is not to be won by methods such as yours, and I +must own that your speeches this morning have put me greatly out of +sympathy with you as a friend.” + +I looked in his face, but found it hard to read. There was an +expression of regret certainly, mingled with discomfort and doubt; but +my woman’s instinct told me well enough that behind this was no wounded +heart of despairing lover, and not even his next words moved me to +belief. + +“Then farewell, mistress,” he said in a low voice; “you have broken +my life in two. Henceforth we go separate ways. Heaven grant you +tenderness to know how cruelly you have used me!” + +Angered again by this accusation, I bowed to him without reply, and +walked away towards the house with the child clinging to my hand. + +Seated at work next morning in the parlour, we were listening amused +to the chatter of the little boys, when Charles gave a great sigh and +exclaimed, “How I wish my papa would come home! I do weary to see him.” + +“So do I, too!” cried Henry, with a sigh to match his brother’s. “Tell +me, mama, how many years is it since my papa went away?” + +My lady put down her work to pat the curly head at her knee, and sighed +herself, though she laughed at the childish question. + +“The months are years to us who love him, are they not, Hal?” she said. +“We must pray God to send him back to us very soon.” + +“I do,” cried Charles. “Last night I said in my prayers, ‘Please, God, +let my papa come home before the trees are green.’ That will be very +soon now, mama, will it not?” + +Just then came a knock at the door, and one entered to say that Mr. +Hamilton waited without, desiring to speak to her ladyship. + +“Very well, bid him come in!” said my lady; but on hearing that he had +something of a private nature to communicate, she rose with a perturbed +look and hurried from the room. + +It was half-an-hour before she returned, and when she did so, ’twas +with a vexed and ruffled countenance. She dismissed the children +abruptly, and standing in front of me, cried, + +“Well, Barbara, do you know the mischief you have wrought?” + +Trembling and surprised, I dropped my needle and looked at her. + +“Madam,” I stammered, “I am sorry; but you know yourself, cousin, that +I could not listen to Mr. Hamilton’s proposals.” + +“And yet you encouraged him; you led him to believe his suit was not in +vain! You drew him on, only to have the triumph of rejecting him. Was +this the part of a modest maiden, Barbara?” + +Wounded to the quick, and with the tears starting to my eyes, I yet +answered her with some spirit. + +“If Mr. Hamilton has told you this, madam, he has done me great +injustice. A year ago, I own, I wished him to admire me--foolish girl +that I was, all new to intercourse with men--and accepted his small +attentions with a kind of pleasure. But since our return from Dysart +last October, I have never given him a look that he could construe into +interest of the faintest sort. I beg you to believe, cousin, that Mr. +Hamilton is a man it is not easy to flout. He thinks the whole world +has as high an opinion of him as he himself has; and if he has made up +his mind to establish himself in any woman’s favour, he would be so +firm in the belief of his success that the news of his failure would +come as a great shock to his pride.” + +I dried my eyes, for as I spoke my anger returned. + +“And even if his accusations were true, I take it, madam, that ’tis +not the part of a chivalrous gentleman to blame a woman for his own +conceited blunder. I have nothing but contempt for the man. I never +wish to speak to him again.” + +“’Tis not likely that you will,” returned my lady, gloomily; “he leaves +Alva to-day.” + +“Leaves Alva?” cried I. “But how can he go and abandon his work? How +can he leave you alone?” + +“’Twill make it very uneasy for me,” she replied; “but there is no more +to be said. He is like a man wrong in the head, and was neither to hold +nor to bind, as the saying is. I talked till I was tired, but his mind +was made up; he could not stay where he might see Mistress Stewart any +day. His heart was broken, he repeated, his life spoiled.” + +“Pray, madam,” I entreated, “will you forgive me for my share in this +new trouble, and say you believe I am not so much to blame! I cannot be +happy to lie under such an imputation in your eyes. I regret more than +I can say the annoyance it causes you, but I cannot heartily believe +that Mr. Hamilton is so greatly afflicted as he pretends. All the time +he was talking to me yesterday, I felt that his speech did not ring +true; ’twas as if he were working himself into a passion to make an +effect.” + +While I was speaking I was considering in my mind the wisdom of +repeating to my lady the threatening language the man had used; but +having no particular belief in it, and not wishing to disturb her +unnecessarily, I held my peace. She pondered my last words for some +time, and when she spoke again, her voice had lost its coldness. + +“Why, Barbara,” she said, “to say truth, I doubted the man myself. He +was too violent, he talked too much. At first I was so put about at +the prospect of his leaving me that I did not stop to reason, but now +that I am calm again, I acknowledge you are right to despise the way +James has behaved. So far as the Mine is concerned I can trust him to +be silent, and for his work I have no doubt I shall find a successor. +There is not much to be done at present in any case, so perhaps after +all he will not be missed. Forget about him, child; he has taken +himself out of our life in a pet. ’Tis not likely he will enter it +again.” + + * * * * * + +“Ah!” cried Betty when she heard of it, “do you not see now that I was +right? Did I not warn you, Barbara, of what he was capable, and tell +you to be on your guard with him? Well, thank heaven, he has done no +harm, and as my sister says, I do not suppose we shall ever see him +again. But, though I never liked the man, I am amazed, I must own, at +his ingratitude.” + +And so James Hamilton departed from Alva, hiding his treachery under a +very flimsy cloak, for, as you know, his love for Barbara was only a +blind, and his despair a mere pretence to allow him to escape and work +his wicked will. + + +LETTER VII + + I begin to be impatient to hear from my Dear Life. This is the + fourth letter I have writ, and I have got but one. If you are well + I am very happy, but I have many melancholy dreams about you which + is occasioned by anxious concern to have you easy in your mind, and + satisfied with your present state, which indeed is a great tryal but + such as God in His providence thinks fit to send us, and it is no + small mercy in so general a calamity that you are preserved and will + have what may make us live comfortably together. I must own it is not + easy for me to be at so great a distance from you, nor can I have any + prospect yet how soon I can be with you, until some settlements be + made in affairs here, which will take a considerable time. I am doing + in the meantime what is for your interest. + + As for old W.’s work I am obligt to give it up yesterday, until we be + in a state of more freedom than we are at present, and people began + to suspect that there was something in it more than ordinary that I + continued it so long. My counsel determined me in doing so, and they + have some projects in vein to secure all. I hope they will not all + fail ... it’s lucky for us P.C. is at London, and will be there for + a great while. His wife is gone home to lye, and designs to take her + two eldest children to London with her against June. + + Your mother is here and is very concerned about you, and is very + thankful you got so early off. In short, that supports her in all + the difficulties that occur, as it does me, for the violence cannot + always last, tho’ in the meantime it’s very hard upon those that are + in their hands. I am in great fear for J. Paterson, for I am told + that base wretch, Jock Muir, says his house was the place of their + meeting which makes his friends afraid. I pity my poor sister, and + when I think of her I think my own sufferings easy. In short I am + not to be pityed for anything but being absent from you, for your + friends have a particular regard and concern for me, and Charls omits + nothing that can be for your interest, and I believe your sister + Nell will make her spouse (Mr. Haldane) do all that’s possible for + you att Court, and I hear he is much in favour at present. But that + family distinguish themselves in violence at present, tho’ as to your + particular (case) I believe they will do all that’s possible. Your + nephew, James, was here the other day, and procured a protection for + my house and all things I am concerned in, which makes me easy. In + the meantime I believe there is some care taken to hinder your being + denounct, but I fear it will not doe, but if it could be done it + would be an advantage; but be it as it will there shall none of your + stockin’ be lost. + + If your brother Robin come to Holland with his master, Charls has + some thoughts of coming there, and desiring you to meet them if you + can do it with safety. Some people here think it would be easy for + Robin’s master to procure your pardon, which I think should be done + if possible; tho’ you did not return to Britain for some time the + interest of your family and the present circumstances of your affairs + require it, but when your brothers and you meet you can talk freely + of that and other things. + + Andrew (Argyle) has lost the command of the troops here, and Mr. + Beggar (Cadogan) has got it. I wish Andrew had known it sooner for + it’s talkt Beggar had it seven weeks before Andrew left this Country, + and yesterday Mr. Beggar went northwards. Perth, Aberdeen, and + Inverness are to be fortified. If the common people who are still + under arms will now come to surrender they are to be allowed to go + home, and I hear some of the Clans have done so. In that case their + Heads will doe well to take care of themselves.... Colonel Pary, + and Mr. Balfour have given up themselves, my Lord Rollo and several + others of like degree, which is very surprising. There came an order + to the common prisoners either to choose to stand their tryal or be + sold to the plantations. I hear that most have chosen rather to stand + their tryal than live slaves. Your fellow-travellers came south and + were taken care of. I doubt not you will hear of them soon. All our + neighbours are safe. Your boys are well and nothing shall be wanting + that’s fit for them; for their education I hop, one way or other, you + shall doe it to your own mind. + + I am in great grief for Kid (the King) and your freind Mill (Mar), + tho’ I think he is the only cause for all my sufferings, but I find + he is blamed by all sides. How far it’s just I know not, but I shall + never blame him, tho’ in my heart I cannot but think he should not + have taken such an affair upon him without positive orders from Kid. + However, in the meantime, I could wish for your own sake you wold not + be near Kid or Mill, because that may be a hindrance to some projects + which we have in view; and since you may doe yourself and family + prejudice and can do them no service, it is but common prudence to do + so. + + I long to hear from my Dearest Life. May you be happy always, and + remember the only way to be kind to me is to take care of yourself. I + got a proposal from my father to come to keep house to him, and bring + my boys with me, or he will come and board with me; but he wants me + to manage his estate in his son’s absence, both which proposals I + have rejected; and he says he will goe abroad. Where it will end I + know not. + + Charles salutes you and Betty, and your sons offer their humble duty + to you, and + I am ever yours, + my Dearest Soul. + + +LETTER VIII + + _March 23._ + + MY DEAREST LIFE, + + I received two of your letters this week which were + most acceptable, one without a date, and the last of the 16th of + March. By both I see all my letters have miscarry’d, which does not + a little vex me. You was not eight days out of Britain when I writ + first, and this is the fifth I have writ. I have been so lucky to + receive three letters from you, which is no small comfort; but by + your not receiving mine you have not drawn for 100 pound I desired + you to take from your factor, and that you should be straitened is + what I am very much afraid of. Pray doe not want what is fit for you, + for I hope in God I shall always have (means) to supply you till I + be so happy (as) to see you again, which is what I very much long + for; and my absence from you is the only suffering I have, but that + I ought to submit to with cheerfulness when you are well and out + of danger. I must own the thought of your safety has been a great + support to mee, and as to other particulars in my own affairs, the + grief and concern I had for others made me very easy about them, and + hitherto there has nothing happened in my little affairs that could + make me uneasy. I am still in my own house and looking carefully to + all things, and am so much of your mind, however dark things may look + at present, that both this place and the other (Cambuswallace) may + be possesst by you and yours, that I have planted trees this season, + and made up all the wants in your hedges, and shall not omit to doe + everything that can be for your interest. + + Mr. R(ose) labours your own farms this year. As to your debts of all + kinds all care has been taken, and as I told you before not one can + lose a groat by you so you may be easy. My being so much a stranger + to your debts makes it a little uneasy, but a little time will put + that over. There is not a thing I doe were it never so trifling, + but I consult first whether my friend would approve of this; and I + daresay you would if you saw my actings approved of, the most part if + not all. Your brother has been twice here, and does in every respect + act the part of a kind friend, and does not omit the least thing that + can be either useful or agreeable to me. + + I send you one enclosed from your mother. She is indeed a kind woman, + and tho’ she disapproves what you have done, yet she cannot bear to + have you blamed and reflected on, and is as cheerful as ever I saw + her, for she thinks there will be favour got one way or other, and + the family will be preserved. And she hopes this may be a means to + make you serious, which I pray God it may, for afflictions are not + sent in vain. I pray earnestly that we may all have the right use of + them, and that seeing the uncertainty of all human things we may seek + what is more lasting. + + I am in hops our two good friends att London will not be in danger. + My poor sister writes they have few enemies, and if her spouse is + banished she will send for her children to goe with him. There is + many gentlemen given up themselves, which I wonder much at. I think + they have had no encouragement to do so. Your fellow-travellers + will be in their own country again by this time, and a great many + of your friends. Poor Polmaise is dead. All your servants are well. + Some people think the clans can keep out a year, others are afraid + of them. There is no accounts yet since Mr. Beggar went north. Your + servant, Andrew S----t, came safe here two months agoe; I writ to + you of him before, and desired to know if I should send him to you. + If anything can be done for you, it is not fit you be with Kid and + Mill; and since you cannot serve them, it’s but a reasonable prudence + not to give new provocations. P.C. is att London, and will not fail + to doe all that can be done, and your sister Nell’s spouse I hear + is much in favour. But they are very violent tho’ I doubt not their + good-will to you. Your children are well. There shall be nothing + wanting that’s fit for them, and as for their education, I hop you + shall do that yourself, for if ever I be put from this place, I’ll + come and bring them with me; but I must own I do not expect to leave + this place, and I rather think you will be allowed to return, for + things cannot always continue, as they have been violent long, so the + contrary may now be hoped for. + + I blame you much that you do not tell me more of Kid, for I have a + great concern for him and great pity. As to my health I am rather + better than usual. The season is good, and I am much in the fields, + sometimes employed in business, and thinking on the unhappy state of + many different people at other times, and reflecting on the mercy’s + I daily meet with, which are such as I should never forget, for I am + not to be pitied for anything but my being absent from you, which if + I suffer patiently God may in a little time give me the comfort of + being with you again. + + I think you should read much; I will recommend Monsieur Paskal’s + Thoughts to you, which I doubt not you will like. Wishing my dear + soul all manner of happiness, I am in all sincerity, Yours. + + Your friend Bess salutes you kindly. Pray be so kind to me (as) to + take good care of your self, and write frequently when you see I doe + not miss one. + + Apri. 4. + + +LETTER IX + + My Dearest Life, + + I am uneasy you have never got any of my letters + and I am much afraid you are in want of money. I have writ six + letters since you left Britain, and in every one of them beg’d (you) + to cause your factor to draw upon his correspondent for 100 pound. + Pray do not want what is necessare nor be afraid of want, for I hop + we shall always have enough. I am told things have a better aspect of + late and I am hopfull our friends att London will be safe. As to the + fortunes, if things should come to the worst, I hop we shall still + have what will give us what is needful for Life. In the meantime I + am as easy at home as I can be when absent from you. I must own that + is the greatest part of my suffering but I dare not allow myself to + think of itt. When I consider how mercifully you have been preserved, + and that you have a good country and liberty, the sad state of many + good people has hitherto affected me so much, I thought myself happy + in comparison. Your friends have been very careful to doe me all + manner of kindness, and I am very sure I am to be as little pityed + as any in my state. I have had 3 of your letters which gave me great + comfort. I wish both of us may be thankful for every degree of mercy + we meet with, and submitt with chearfulness to what Providence orders + for us. + + I was some time perfectly incapable of doeing anything being so much + overwhelmed with greif, but saw soon the folly and fault of giving + way to it, and am now doing all I can to be usefull to you in your + present circumstances. I hope God will bless my indeavors for I + shall endeavor to doe the best without anxiety which I have been too + long liable to. I shall be glad to hear you are well in your country + retreat, and are contented with your present state. Your mother has + been here, and writ to you in my last letter. She is both cheerfull + and easy. Her concern was great till you was gone, but she has none + now, for she does not doubt your family will be preserved and she + hopes this will make you good. + + I told you in my last old W.’s work was given up; it went off, and we + thought it a good opportunity because of impertinent people talking, + and both Ch. and P.C. have several projects in vein to secure itt. + How or what way things will be no body can yett guess, but if you are + preserv’d I fear nothing. For your boys I have not the least concern + or fear they will ever want. They are young, and there may be many + changes before they are men. + + I have planted trees and put all the hedges to rights, and shall not + fail to take all manner of care that nothing you have done be lost. I + find my Counsel think I have too much land in my own hand, and they + incline I should let out in Tenantry the place I do not live at. I + must own I think I have more to do than I can well manage, but I fear + you will lose all you have laid out, and it will not give so much now + to let it as it might do sometime afterwards; but I have no money + to lay out on improvements, but I would be glad to have your own + opinion. You will laugh at this way of writing, but I have some faint + hope you will never be attainted, having ’scapt the first brunt. You + will hear many of your friends is gone to Holand, some are yet in + this country. + + I hear Rob Roy’s house is burnt and his cattle caryed off by a party. + He thought fit to wait for them in a wood, and, they talk, has killed + a great many. I am sorry for it. I have heard nothing of Mr. Beggar, + but nobody doubts but he will have work enough this summer. + + Pray write often and oblige me, for all you have writ comes very safe + to my hand. I told you before P. C. is att London, and I believe you + may have no doubt but he will serve you. I hear his friend, Andrew, + is very great at Court and is a great Countryman. I hope God will + bless their endeavors. + + I am angry you never mention Kid or Mill for I have a great desire + to hear of them, but I do not wish you to be with them in case it + would stop what your friends is earnest to have done for you here. + Your boys are well and want much to see you, and ask me how many + years it is since their Papa went away. Dearest Life, wishing you all + happiness. + Adieu. + + Apr. 13. + + I am very well in my health. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +SHOWS HOW SLOWLY THE TIME PASSES WHEN THE HEART IS HEAVY + + +You will notice, I have no doubt, a great sameness in these interesting +letters, and frequent repetitions of the sentiments and facts they +contain. The reason of this, as you will readily understand, was the +fear my lady had that Sir John might not receive them, so that she +felt compelled to inform him of whatever interested them most in every +epistle she penned. It would be easy to curtail them, giving you only +extracts, and so save you the tedium of reading the same things so +often; but in reproducing them as they were writ I feel that I am only +doing justice to my dear lady’s memory, for by this means alone can +you, her descendants, realise the weariness of her life, the flagging +of her hopefulness, the constant burden that weighed on her mind during +those long, monotonous weeks. Her spirits, as you will see, varied, as +a woman’s are apt to do with her varying moods. Some days she would +be full of cheerfulness, saying that an end to all our troubles must +soon be coming, and busying herself with her affairs as if her beloved +husband were returning to Alva the very next week; at other times she +would be heavy and sad, moving about the house in silence, and only +by a great effort making answer to those who conversed with her. The +news of Sir John’s safety and freedom did indeed lift a weight from her +heart, and for some days she even laughed and sang as she made herself +busy in her usual way; but this lightness could not long be maintained, +and the prospect of seeing her husband grew more and more uncertain. + +Our fears for the good old Colonel and his son, still prisoners in the +Fleet, were now allayed as nothing could be found against them, and +there seemed to be every hope that after a time they would be released. +Mr. Patrick Campbell, our kind and constant friend, had means of seeing +them frequently, and kept my lady informed of their welfare. + +The news of the escape of the brave old Brigadier Mackintosh and +several of his friends from Newgate, which reached us some time in +May, was hailed with triumph, not unmixed with amusement, when we +learned that this sturdy veteran had knocked down his gaoler with his +fists; and after disarming the sentinel, they opened the gates and let +themselves out into the streets, afterwards escaping (save one or two +who were unluckily recaptured) to France. Some weeks later occurred the +escape of Colonel Walkinshaw of Barafield from the Castle of Stirling, +which we learned enraged the Earl of Rothes very much. But these things +are matters of history, you will say, and enter not into our story. + +And all this time it may be asked where was Sir John and how was he +faring? + +Excellently well, if we may believe the hints given us in the few +extracts of letters from him which I have seen, and the scraps of news +about him, confided to me at the time by my lady, and entered in my +little day-book. + +You will see that his faithful wife believes that he is living +quietly and privately, with no thought of further entangling himself +in the King’s affairs; but she constantly urges him to leave the +neighbourhood of his Majesty and the Earl of Mar, in order to prove +to the authorities at home that he truly repents him of his misdeeds, +and is therefore a fit subject for the clemency of King George. And +all the time if we had but known it, Sir John was busily engaged in +furthering his master’s interests by every means in his power, although +I am certain he did not contemplate bringing disaster upon his wife and +family. + +In the beginning of April, he, accompanied by his brother-in-law, left +Paris by water-coach for a town called Auxerre, which was finally +reached in a covered cart. From there, as it was quite out of the way +of diligences or even ordinary post-road, they hired horses to ride +to Beaune, a small village in a wine-growing district from which was +obtained the excellent _vin de Pomar_, or _Beaune_, which is still +famed among the wines of Burgundy. In one of his letters Sir John tells +my lady how he drinks her health daily, though abstemiously, in this +cheap and pleasant beverage; he also gives an amusing account of Mr. +Paterson’s difficulties with the French language, the latter being +almost a stranger to its use. + +After about three weeks in this place, Sir John, upon the King’s +summoning him, repaired to Avignon where his Majesty held his meagre +court, and from then onwards through the summer his time seems to have +been occupied with political affairs. This, as you are aware, he kept +from my lady’s knowledge, but rumours reached her from time to time +through other sources, which greatly disturbed her and kept her in a +state of constant anxiety. + +“What,” she said to me once, “is the use of all our endeavours to +obtain Sir John’s pardon, and prevent his being attainted, if he +continues to mix himself up in the affairs of the poor King? I cannot +see that one man’s help, or the want of it, can make much difference +at the present juncture; and I am convinced that if my husband were +free to confide his private affairs to his Majesty, he would be told to +consider his family interests rather than continue any longer in this +employment.” + +“Perhaps the story of Sir John’s being sent to Spain is false,” said I, +to comfort her. + +“Oh, ’tis very like!” she answered, “people must always be talking. +But it shows us, Barbara, what I have ever felt, the strong difference +between men and women. Were my dear life to express the lightest wish +regarding my conduct, would I not hasten to do it, no matter how cross +it might be to my inclination? But not all my pleadings, I fear, will +have any effect on Sir John to make him alter his present way of +living.” + +“Ah, madam!” I cried, eager as ever for my guardian’s justification, +“’tis a hard thing to be torn by divided duties, especially when +affection bears a part in each. But I do fervently believe our +good Sir John will decide to give up the King, if this is the only +alternative, rather than bring you and your children to misery.” + +“Would to God he would hesitate no longer!” she cried. “He may make up +his mind too late, and end by falling between two stools, as the saying +is.” + +“There is still,” she went on after a while, “the hope of help from his +brother, Robin, who is very great with his master. I think ’twould be +easy for him to move the Czar to ask for Sir John’s pardon; but this, +as you know, would not alter the inclination of the Parliament if they +were determined to have him attainted, and my fear is, that believing +him still a servant of King James, they may hasten to do it. I pray God +to have us all in his keeping, and order everything for our good; but +my heart at times is very heavy, Barbara, and the waiting is long.” + +It was about this time that the little boys fell ill with the +chincough, or whooping-cough, and though at first it seemed they were +both to get pretty easy off, the trouble increased, and little Hal +especially was brought very low. Fortunately the weather was mild and +almost summer-like, though but the beginning of May, so that there was +every chance for the children in that particular, and with Phemie’s +care and skill to depend on, my lady did not allow herself to be unduly +agitated about them. Still she was an anxious and tender parent, and +the sight of her youngest child, with white face and heavy eyes, +oppressed and spent after a fit of the cough, caused her many a pang, I +trow, for to have anything serious happen to her precious little sons +in the absence of their father, would have well-nigh broken her heart. + +Early in this month Betty was obliged to go back to Dysart, intending +as she said to return very shortly, but this, as events turned out, she +was unable to do. Old Lady Alva was still with us, as kind and pleasant +a dame as it would be possible to find. Her cheerful, placid spirit was +of the greatest benefit to her daughter at this time, and though she +interfered in nothing that was being done, she was ever ready to give +her help and advice when asked. + +As for Barbara, she had been made happy by receiving a letter from her +friend, Mr. Fleming, who was safely arrived in France, and was now +staying with some good friends of his father’s in Paris. He had great +hopes, he said, of getting his pardon, through his parent’s friends +in the Government, and was already contemplating falling in with his +father’s suggestion that he should get him employment in the service of +the East India Company. As this would entail his leaving Britain and +living in a distant land for the most part of his life, he thought it +proper to advertise me of his prospects, and get my mind on the matter. + +Glad and relieved as I was to know him safe and well, this news, as +you can imagine, threw me into some agitation, for it implied the +readjustment and arranging of my whole life, and my woman’s heart +trembled at the notion. There is surely nothing in life so wonderful +nor so beautiful, if we regard it rightly, as the simple trust +displayed by a young maid in giving up herself to the sole care of the +man she loves, forsaking all other to cleave to him, leaving friends +and home and childhood’s scenes to accompany him to any corner of the +globe, the future all unknown, alone, but for him, in the whole world. +And yet I suppose that ever since Rebecca, trusting only to hearsay, +came willingly to Isaac, it has been the way of women, and ordered by +God; and men too often, I fear, regard it as a natural proceeding, and +the faith that it implies no more than their due. + +However that may be, I did not feel it would be right to attempt to +dissuade Mr. Fleming from falling in with his father’s wishes; for +nothing was nearer to my heart, as you may guess, than the desire to +stand well in the eyes of my Anthony’s parents, so that they might find +nothing of which to disapprove in their dear son’s choice. He begged +my permission and that of Lady Erskine, to make them acquainted with +our mutual love, so that, upon his obtaining his pardon, our betrothal +might at once be made public. + +To this, my lady, after consulting with Mr. Erskine (who was again at +Alva), gave her consent, but added that in the event of Mr. Fleming’s +going to the Indies, she must beg, for the sake of my youth, that he +should not insist upon my accompanying him. In three or four years’ +time, she said, I would be of age, and being older, more fit to hold my +own against the extremities of the Eastern climate; Mr. Fleming also +would be accustomed to the country, and more fit to make me comfortable +in my new life when I went out to him. + +I cannot say that Barbara, young, impulsive and not too patient, at +once agreed to her kind friend’s proposals. Indeed it took some days of +consideration and counsel to bring her to reason, and some nights of +sleepless anxiety and not a few tears, before she could bring herself +to face the prospect with equanimity. The sorrow of parting, the long +absence from each other, the distance that would separate us, and the +dangers and risks of the long voyage--all these combined to make a +burden that was not easy to carry. But of this I said very little in +my reply to my lover, knowing that his own heart would understand it +too well. I only stipulated very strongly that I should see him once +more, and talk over everything with himself, before his departure from +Britain. + +And so with hopes and fears the days were intermingled, and the summer +was at hand, and the trees were growing green, but there was no word +yet of Sir John’s coming home. + + +LETTER X + + I think it very hard I can never hear my Dearest Life has got any + of my letters, tho’ this is the seventh I have writ, and in every + one desired you to draw a bill for 100 pounds. Your not doeing it + makes me conclude you have never got one, and since you left Paris + I have never heard from you at all. I must own my hearing from you + so seldom is a great uneasiness and occasions me many fears, tho’ + I must own I should trust to the kind providence of God who has + hitherto wonderfully preserved you. All things as to the settling the + affairs of this unhappy country are still undetermined, and our own + countrymen cannot agree about it, which is our misfortune. What will + be the issue God knows, but we are not without fears of hard usage, + nor altogether without hop that in time they may relent and use us + more Christianly. + + I hear of our friends att London frequently. I am hopful they are in + no danger as to their lives, and it’s generally talkt there will not + be much more blood taken. In the meantime I am living very easyily at + home managing as formerly, but have enough to do to keep all right, + and have great difficulty in getting up the rents, tho’ care must be + taken to pay the annual rents and prevent diligencies being done. I + am very lucky in two friends which take much of the burden off me, + and all is done that can be in the present circumstances. I am easy + in everything in comparison to the anxious care and concern I have + about your person, and the different thoughts you will have upon not + hearing what state I am in. + + Your boys has had the chincoch but are better. The season here has + been extraordinary, for since the breaking of the storm there has + not been an ill day; the fields are much frequented by me, and how + to manage my ground to the best advantage is much my study. I shall + not fail to observe as much as possible all you have done in both + places.... + + Some of your friends are so unjust (as) to blame me for your going + out, and the reason they give for it is I should have acquainted the + Government with your design. But since I am innocent and never did + anything but what was my duty with regard to you, I must let them be + saying and bear that with other things. I cannot frame a notion to + myself what state we will be in, but in the general I have no fears + of want, and I am sure nobody will lose by you. These things I have + good ground to believe, let things come to the worst; but the longer + things are of being settled the longer I shall be deprived of the + happyness of seeing you, for my being here is absolutely necessare + till we see the utmost and procure something by help of friends for + me and my children if they do go to the Height of Rigour. + + I have no other work in hand without doors but plowing, this two + months past, for some impertinent folks was like to be uneasy, and + P. C. is at London who has several schemes in vein; whether any will + succeed at this present juncture I cannot guess, but Providence will + preserve you and all your concerns, I hop, in spite of all your + enemies. All your friends here are well, some blaming you and others + pitying you, but all your near relations will do for you what lyes + in their power. Your sister Ca. has a son call’d after her father; + I am going to see her this week. I am very impatient to hear from + you. The three letters you writ before you left Paris came safe to my + hand, but I have had none since. My health is pretty good considering + how many difficult things I have to disturb me, but if you be + preserved I hop to get over all other difficulties in time. + + As to the clans they are all coming in and giving up their arms. + There is none of your neighbourhood given up themselves. + + Betty salutes you, and I am Dear, Soul, in all sincerity, May 1st. + + Yours. + + +LETTER XI + + It is but three day since I wrote to my Dearest Life, but haveing + had the pleasure of one from you last night of 15 of Ap., new stile, + by another hand, I am resolved to lett no opportunity slip, hoping + that some one of my letters may come to your hand. This is the + eighth I have writ, and tho’ by your last you tell me you had not + heard from me, I am hopful they are not all mis-carryed, but by your + leaving Paris they are longer a-coming to your hand. It is no small + satisfaction to me that you are well and at freedom, and the thoughts + of it support me under every other difficulty. Tho’ I must own the + common misfortune has been so greivous that I cannot express it, + and then every particular person that I ever knew or heard of makes + deep impression upon me, so that I was not capable of having a right + thought. But after some time I found I could not live after that way, + and made myself incapable to serve you. I resolv’d to imploy myself + in doing in your affairs what was fit in the present juncture, and as + the old saying is, indeavour to make the best of an ill bargain. But + I have been many days without speaking, except when business obligt + me to it. + + I told you in my last our friends att London are well, and we are + not afraid of their lives being in danger. What will come of all the + misfortunate people God knows, but many have foolishily given up + themselves and Glengary among the rest, who is now at Perth. It’s + talkt they are all to be tryed. I am still at home managing after + the old manner but with many difficultys, being perfectly a stranger + to your debts, and every frikish body arresting the rents, and one + difficulty no sooner off but another occurs; but I doubt not to get + over all these, and in time, which it’s probable I will have now, if + the Parlyment rise soon as it’s expected, without any more bills of + attainder, to get this year’s rent. Your farms are plowed and the + last of the Barley sow’d this day. I may ask you when you was so soon + done. There has been no other work without doors for two months past, + because upon many reasons it was inconvenient. I have planted trees + here, and if things go tolerably easy I intend to plant both here and + in the other place in the latter season. I tell you all this that you + may not think I despair of your having peaceable possession of your + own, tho’ I cannot yet see by what means. We hear of an interview of + many crown’d heads, and some people think your pardon may be easily + obtained by your Brother, the Dr., and his master’s means, but if + ever you obtain it that way, your abode must be in another place. Ch. + has some thoughts of going over to see his Brother, and wold appoint + you to meet him if ye could do it with safety. I must own if it be + practicable for your friends to obtain a pardon, you should accept of + it, however cross it may be to your own inclination. Consider your + children and me, and prevent the utter ruin of your family. And I + daresay neither Kid nor Mill will think it wrong for you, since you + cannot serve them in your present circumstances, to doe what is so + material for your interest. + + Your boys have been very ill of the chincoch but are better. I hope + they will get over it very soon.... I expect to see Ch. soon here. + P. C. is at London, and your sister, Nell, is gone to the Bath. All + your friends are well. The uncertainty of my letters coming to your + hand makes me say less than I incline. Pray draw for money when you + please, but it seems you are in no want, for you never mention it. + Wishing you, my Life, all manner of happyness, I am in all sincerity + + _May 4th._ Yours. + + +LETTER XII. + + I received one from my Dearest Life of the 17 Ap. which was most + acceptable. I am sorry you should be in such pain and uneasyness by + your not hearing from me, and I should never forgive myself if I had + occasioned it by my neglect, but I assure myself you will not think + me capable of omitting anything than can contribute to your quiet. + This is the tenth letter I have writ and all different hands, in + hops some wold be so lucky (as) to come your length. I have had the + pleasure of getting all yours, which I reckon no small mercy. I have + told you in all my letters to be easy about me and your children; + wee have what is necessare for us, and I have good ground to think + will always have; let things come to the worst we will have enough + and what we ought to be content with, in so general a calamity. My + greatest suffering is being absent from you; but when I think upon + the danger and imprisonment of many others, some of (them) my good + friends, I dare not complain. I must own your being at freedom and + out of the hands of your enemies, has supported me under the many + difficultys, and if you are well and easy in your mind, I shall + endeavour to submit chearfully to whatever God in his providence + shall order; and very often the fears of what may happen is greater + than the suffering itself, as I doubt not is the case with the + most part of the distrest people at this time. The delay and the + uncertainty occasions the most dreadful apprehensions their fancy can + suggest. Tho’ at other times I was too ready to put the dark side of + the cloud to my view, yet I think it’s impossible things can long + continue in so violent a way. I doe very much regret the suffering of + Kid and your freind, and of all the rest in generall; but God in his + wise providence has ordered it, and his visible hand in disappointing + all our hops should make us wait his time with patience, and + indeavour to make the best use of so great afflictions, which is most + justly sent us as a punishment for our many faults and abuses of many + mercys; and if this thought would make us live better lives, it’s + very probable our time of suffering might be shortened. + + I am still at home managing after the old manner, have labour’d both + your farms, and getting in rents, tho’ with great difficulty. There + is nothing omitted that can be done for your interest, and I am very + lucky in two freinds who do all for me that’s in their power. + + You are not yet attainted, and I hop will not be this session of + Parlyment; but I am afraid if you continue in that place where you + are now it will make them more violent, and tho’ your being in + another place will not be so agreeable to you, yet I persuade myself + you will cross your own inclination since you can do your friends no + service, and may ruin your family. I doe not let anybody know where + you are because I have some hop, with the help of Dr. Robin, your + brother, and his master, to get your pardon, that you may be allowed + to come home and live quietly. I believe the first thoughts of this + kind will be very disagreeable to you; but consider mee and your + children and every particular circumstance, and then I am sure you + must be of my mind. This is the opinion of those friends that did not + condemn your going out, and have your interest as much at heart as + their own. I wold not wish you to doe a mean or dishonorable thing, + and I am sure were it fit to be free with Kid and Mill in every + particular they wold desire you to accept, if ever that pardon could + be obtained by your freinds. Pray, write freely to me your opinion in + this particular, for I have greater fears you will not accept than + that itt will not be obtain’d, and if you are positive against itt I + will never attempt itt. I heard from London you was gone a message to + Spain, but they must always be talking. + + I am doeing no work without doors just now. All our plowing is over + some weeks agoe, and our work is all laid aside except such as is in + and about the House. I have planted trees this season, and design to + plant them in the latter season. + + Your children are just such as you wold wish them, very good-humor’d. + I am getting one to teach them. They have both the chincoch, but I + hop the worst is over. My friend, Bess, has left me. Your mother is + here just now; she is very concern’d about you, but has no such fears + for the family as I have seen her have for a trifle. + + I cannot yet have any vein how or what way I am to doe; but if once + things were settled, if you doe not get home, I will certainly come + to you and bring my young folks with me, which will not doe so well + as that I mention in the other side. In the meantime, hope the best, + take good care of yourself, and let me hear frequently from you. + + I writ in all my letters to make your factor draw for money on his + correspondent at Edinr. for your use. I hop I shall have to supply + you what you have use for. As to your servants, they have all been + here since you left the country, and Andrew came safe, so you need + not be uneasy. As to your debts of all kinds, due care is taken that + no body lose by you, and nobody can lose a grott. I wish everybody + had the same mitigations of their sufferings that I have; but the + hearing of the necessities of others, and not being in a condition to + help them, touches me very sensibly, which makes me wish I could be + far from hearing itt. Wishing you all manner of happyness, I am, my + Dearest, in all sincerity, Yours. + + May 14. + + +LETTER XIII + + I received yours of the 26th of Ap., which my Dearest Life may + imagine was most acceptable to know you had once got some of my + letters, and that you was easy in your mind upon that score, which + you have all the reason in the world to be. You was much to blame + that (you) did not mention money in any of your former letters, + because if I had known the maner of sending money, you had got it + long ere now. Having some money att London, I have ordered your + Bill of 50 pounds that you have drawn to be pay’d there, and shall + write to my freind there to remitt the other 50 after the best and + cheapest manner. For all the money I could raise here out of your + estate, and otherways by the help of friends, will not satisfy uneasy + Debtors for annual rents and principal sums to prevent diligences + being done, and itt is done in such maner that the money laid out + that way will stand good upon the worst event that can happen. But if + you will please to let me know what sum you incline to have soon, it + shall be had as far as either your freinds or my credit can goe. In + a little time we hop to have your affairs put in a clear way, which, + so soon as it is done, you shall know, and shall be dispos’d of by + your order, or as you think most proper. Ch. A(reskine) is here just + now, and is thinking and laying out himself on every way that seems + most for your interest; and it’s his opinion, and it seems to him + the only way to make your affairs easy, to abstract yourself from + your freinds for some time, by which means you may scape the fury and + rage of the folks in present power; for you’ll not doubt but they + have good intelligence who are with, or makes their abode with----. + Nor is it impossible in a little time you may be at more freedom, + with less harm to your family, not being yet attainted, which gives + us a Breathing to put things in a better way. Your remaining at a + certain place will no doubt hasten a sentence which will put us out + of all capacity of medling with anything that belongs to you, but by + indirect and not so successful methods. So as you regard your own + interest and my quiet I expect your complyance in this matter; and if + it were not absolute necessity, you may be assured I wold not ask you + to cross your own inclination in anything, and much less in taking + you from company that must be agreeable to you in a strange country. + + If you have got the rest of my letters you will know that Mr. Nabit + does not imploy old W. or any of his profession at present, because + it was likely to prove uneasy.... It is yet impossible to tell what + money Mr. Nabit will be worth; his reputation among the common sort + is so high that nobody credits it.... Your youngest boy is brought + very low with the chincoch which fears me, but I hope with tender + care ... he will get the better of it, for ye know I am easily + alarm’d. Nothing shall be wanting, and I hope in God the children + shall be preserved while they are under my care, and will give us + all a happy meeting which is the thing in the world I most earnestly + wish.... Your mother is here. She writ you some time agoe, and till + she knows that is come to your hand she will not write again. I am + pretty much imploy’d, which keeps me from thinking so much as my + temper and present state does incline me ... I heard from London last + Post. There can be no evidence got against our two friends that is in + the Fleet, which is no small mercy. Bess is at home, but will return + here. Be sure to write freely your mind as it comes in your head of + anything you would have done, and you will always find those two + friends I formerly mentioned and myself devoted to serve you in every + respect. + I am, Dr. Life, in all sincerity + Yours. + + May 20. + + +LETTER XIV + + It is three weeks now since I heard from my Dearest Life and I begin + to be very impatient. I expect to hear from you every fortnight, and + when I doe not I am apt to fancy you are either gone some message, or + are not well, for all your friends in the Government has had you gone + to Sweden; and if I had not heard from your self I should have been + too ready to believe it. Your friend P. C. writ to me from London. He + was not a little uneasy he had not heard from you, by which I reckon + he has writ to you. I writ three posts ago to desire him to remit the + other 50 pound I mentioned in my last, and did incline to send more, + but as I told you at this term all had enough to doe. But I doubt not + in a little time to have more money at London for the effects are + gone from this, and it will be cheaper to send it from thence; and P. + C. being to stay there for a long time, when you think fit write to + him and he will be sure to answer you, for I doubt not he has let you + know how to direct him. + + I have hitherto been pretty lucky in my little affairs, and in a + little time we will give you a good account of them, if they let me + alone from Bills of Attainder. I wold be glad to know your opinion + whether it’s proper for your Brother R. to cause his master interpose + with the present powers now when they are to have an interview, + or in what manner he should doe it; whether to ask a gift of your + Life-Rent, and a little article put in to secure all to yourself, + tho’ you did not come home for some time, for I fear you wold not + incline; but whether you do or not you will live the better (if) your + estate be secured. I am sure so far you will be of my mind, and if + this Act of Parlyment pass and you be attainted, no body can be sure + of anything; and it excluded the payment of all debts since the 24 of + June last, so that both for your own sake and others, if so fair an + opportunity offer it should not be neglected, and if it be agreeable + to you, and you signify your opinion to Charles, he will go over to + Holland on purpose. This I have often heard him say. I have writ to + you on this subject before, so, as soon as you can, let me have your + opinion. + + Your nephew, James Haldane, is to be resident at that court where + your Brother R. is so great. Your mother is still here, and tho’ we + are of very different sentiments, we live in good friendship and + easy. Your boys are now perfectly recovered, which is no small mercy + to me, and if my Dearest is well and easy in his mind, I have more + than I deserve. Our friends are still in the Fleet, and there can be + no evidence got against them. + + I must confess when I walk abroad and remember all your different + projects, and how pleased I have been to find you in some of these + walks, I cannot help being uneasy till I think you are at liberty + and well, and luckyer as to other circumstances than the most part + of people, then I blame myself for unthankfulness. Your old freind + Barafeild made his escape out of the Castle of Stirlin last week, + which enrag’d the new Governor very much. I shall be obligt to see my + father this week; but I cannot persuade myself to visit these great + folks, tho’ it certainly is fit for me to keep in with all, and they + profess great friendship for me and regret for your family, tho’ none + for yourself. I can at some times be a politician, so at present I + think interest will prevail with me to keep in with all.... Be so + kind to write frequently, for it’s impossible to express my anxiety + about you. Dearest Life, I am ever + + June 4. 1716. Yours. + + I am healthyer than you or anybody could expect. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +TELLS OF THE GOOD FORTUNE FOR BETTY, AND OF THE EVIL DEEDS OF THE +PARLIAMENT + + +Towards the end of May my lady, becoming alarmed at the weakness of her +youngest son, determined, though somewhat against her inclination, to +send him and his brother to their grandfather’s house for the benefit +of the sea-air and the change. Not being at liberty just then to leave +Alva, she arranged that the little boys should go in charge of myself +and Phemie, knowing that every care would be taken of them, and that +all love and attention would be shown them to make up to them for her +absence. + +It was a great pleasure to me to revisit Dysart, where I had always +met with such kindness; and little Charles, delighted as children are +at the prospect of a change, skipped and shouted on his way to the +carriage with no thought of regret at leaving his mother behind. When +Phemie would have rebuked him for his seeming heartlessness, my lady +merely smiled and bade her pay no heed. + +I found my dear Betty looking brighter and happier than I had seen her +for many months, and though I could find no cause in my own knowledge +to account for the change, I must confess I took great pleasure in the +same. + +A light broke in upon my denseness, however, when I found that scarce +a day passed without a visit from my Lord Wemyss, who on some pretext +or other generally found opportunity to put himself in Betty’s way. +Sometimes he came to bring her a flower grown in his garden, sometimes +to consult with my lord on this subject or that, sometimes, I used to +think, merely to tell us what a fine day it was; but, whatever the +excuse, he made himself prodigiously agreeable when he came, and though +Betty never suffered me to move from her side during his visits, I +noticed that while she still sharpened her wit against him in playful +scorn, she treated him with more gentleness and kindness than I had +ever seen her use before. + +The weather was now most beautiful, and as much as possible we spent +the days out of doors. Charles from the first showed himself perfectly +recovered from his ailment, and very soon little Hal showed signs of +picking up strength; and from watching with languid interest from +Phemie’s arms his brother’s gambols, began to desire to join in them, +and from day to day made rapid progress towards complete recovery. +’Twas a great pleasure to be able to write the good news to Alva, and +my lady promised shortly to come and see for herself the happy change +that had taken place. + +One morning, as we sat idly on a bench in the narrow wood above the +water and watched the children at play below us, our constant visitor +joined us, and gave us a kindly good day. The pretty colour rose in +Betty’s cheeks as she made room for him beside us, and my lord, who +seemed as ever in a blithe and pleasant humour, made her a compliment +on the return of her gay spirits and sprightly looks. + +“The winter is gone, Mistress Betty, with all its darkness and sadness, +and you are blossoming again like the new summer flowers.” + +“The flowers that blossom now knew nothing of the winter,” sighed +Betty, ever ready for an argument; “but we--can we ever forget?” + +“Why, yes!” cried my lord, “’tis the noble mind that rises above its +disappointments, and sees in them only the working out of a wisely +guided Destiny.” + +“Ah, my lord,” said Betty, “’tis easy for you to talk; but when the +disappointment is our own, it is harder to soothe it with such bare +philosophy.” + +For a moment he was silent, for he knew well of what she was thinking. + +“And did not I, too, suffer the loss of many hopes this last December?” +he asked gently. + +The tears sprang to Betty’s eyes as she turned to him with an impulse +of sympathy. + +“Pray, my lord, forgive me! You know how I feel for you there. But it +was to the other subject I thought you referred.” + +“I know, I know,” he answered, “but ’tis all one. Neither public nor +private sorrows are we fitted to bear without recourse to ‘such bare +philosophy’ as you call it, madam; but I prefer the name of Christian +resignation.” + +Then, turning to me, he said in a lighter tone, “And when, Mistress +Barbara, will it please you to honour my house with a visit? There is +some ancient armour which, if you care for such things, would please +you, and the Castle itself is not without historic interest.” + +“Why, my lord,” cried I, greatly delighted with his suggestion, “I +do assure you there is nothing I should more enjoy. Of all things I +wish to see the room where Queen Mary first met my lord Darnley--the +beginning of all her woes.” + +“And of many other people’s as well,” said Betty. “Who knows the +difference it would have made to us all had the poor lady married some +man more worthy of her?” + +My lord laughed. + +“She was a wilful woman, madam, and would have had her way in any case. +But now, when will you bring Mistress Barbara to Wemyss? Will you both +honour me by riding there to-morrow afternoon and drinking a dish of +tea with me?” + +To this we readily assented, and after a little further talk my lord +departed. + +“It seems, my dear Betty,” said I, when his footsteps had died away, +“that you have forgiven his lordship.” + +She turned her face to me with a doubtful smile, “And does it seem to +you, dear Barbara, that his lordship has forgiven me?” + +“Why, yes!” said I, laughing, “if you feel the need of forgiveness.” + +Nothing could exceed the kindness and courtesy of my Lord Wemyss +next day as he conducted us over his great house, showing everything +that he thought would please us, from the dungeons where the unhappy +prisoners once had languished, to the beautiful portrait of his first +wife painted in miniature. Tea was served to us in the historic chamber +which I had expressed the curiosity to see, and while we were drinking +it, the Earl turned suddenly to me. + +“Do you not think it a pity, Mistress Barbara, that a house like this +should be without a mistress?” + +“Indeed, my lord, I do,” I responded readily; “but I make no doubt your +lordship could find one without much difficulty.” + +“Alas!” said he, but with a twinkle in his eye, “the only one I want +sees fit to raise a barrier around herself, through which I find it +very hard to make myself seen or heard.” + +“Can I not help to remove it, my lord?” said I mischievously, +attempting to rise from the couch whereon we sat facing him; but to my +dismay I found my dress clutched firmly by the hand of Betty, who was +looking into her empty tea-cup as if to read her fortune there. + +“Can two live together except they be agreed?” she asked in a low voice. + +My lord leant forward in his chair and looked at her earnestly. He +seemed in no way embarrassed by my presence, and seeing that Betty +desired my support, I thought it best to remain where I was. + +“The cause of disagreement,” he said, “is gone. You accused me once of +triumphing over your distress; that, my dear Betty, I could not do. I +grieved with and for you in every fresh disappointment. But the whole +affair was a blunder, and seeing that it was so, I set my face against +it. My heart is not unloyal to that unfortunate prince, and were it +only a personal matter I should certainly prefer James to George as +a King; but of the Rising I could not approve, and in that it failed +I recognise the hand of a wise Providence. These are the words of an +honest man, madam. Have you aught to object to in them?” + +Betty laid her cup and saucer on the table, and turned to look out of +the window, so that I saw nothing but one rosy ear. + +“I shall always cherish the hope that he may return,” she said softly. + +“Be it so,” replied the Earl; “hope does no one any harm.” + +“I shall never pretend loyalty to the Hanoverian,” she cried, turning +her face to us. + +“I have no doubt, madam, he will be able to live without it.” + +A smile curved her lips; his good humour was imperturbable. + +“You think me foolish, frivolous, fickle,” she sighed, “and easily led +away.” + +“I think you loyal, and tender, and true!” he answered, “and what can a +man want more?” + +With that he glanced at me, and seeing that my dress was now free I +slipped away, and going through an open door and down a passage, found +myself presently in the garden. Here I busied myself among the flowers +till, some time later, hearing Betty’s voice I ran to meet her, and +putting my arms about her whispered, “Was all well?” + +To this she replied, “He is to see my father to-morrow,” and my heart +rejoiced, for the look in her eyes was one of peace. + + * * * * * + +It was indeed a matter for rejoicing to all Betty’s friends, for +my Lord Wemyss was, as you know, a man of sense and honour, very +agreeable, and still remarkably handsome. An express was despatched +by my Lord Sinclair to Alva begging my lady’s attendance, as in all +things he relied upon her judgment and valued her opinions; and I make +no doubt that her wise advice was asked and taken in the important +matter of settlements. That she was as much surprised as pleased at +the news, I saw clearly, for so effectually had Betty hid her feelings +even from this tender friend and sister, that my lady had had no hope +of any alliance so satisfactory for the capricious young madam. Even +now she was inclined to think it merely a matter of convenience and +worldly policy on the part of a woman disappointed in her ambitions, +and feeling at war with Fate. + +Arrangements were made for the signing of the settlements, and Mr. +Erskine was summoned from Edinburgh to look after the lady’s interests. +The wedding was to take place in less than three weeks, and the future +Countess very graciously asked me to stand as one of her bridesmaids. + +“If only Sir John were here,” she cried, “and my poor brother, I should +be perfectly happy.” + +“Were Sir John here,” said my lady smiling, “you would have to bear +some teasing upon various subjects. He would ask you, Bess, what you +meant to do with all your other swains--David Pitcairn for one.” + +“I would bear that gladly,” said Betty, “for the pleasure of his good +company; but since he is sure to think my choice a piece of caprice, +you may remind him that I love to be comfortable and lazy, and that at +Wemyss there are plenty of easy-chairs to lounge in, so that I expect +to live very well, whatever my friends may say.” + +Her sister looked at her kindly but gravely. Her idea of happiness +did not consist in bodily comfort, and fond of Betty as she was, she +sometimes had doubts of her sincerity. + +When the latter left the room, she sighed. + +“I trust my poor Bess has some stronger reason for expecting a happy +life than that she gives us, Barbara.” + +“Dear madam,” I assured her, yet surprised that she should need the +explanation, “she was but jesting. Betty is, believe me, as much in +love with my Lord Wemyss as I am with my Anthony, and I think has been +for long. ’Twas the affair of the Rising that kept them apart, and +since its failure she has been very sore; but at last her pride is +broken down, and she allows herself to acknowledge the Earl’s goodness +and patience.” + +“Why, if that is the case,” cried my lady, “no one can be more heartily +glad than I. Poor Betty has suffered cruelly in this sad year, and she +deserves some happiness as her reward for her faithful services to the +King. I hope she will indeed be comfortable. But what, my dear Barbara, +will become of the other David. ’Tis hard for him, and I know not what +he will do.” + +Indeed this question had risen in my own mind often enough, and I +had not been able to supply an answer, for David Pitcairn was one +friend who could not be expected to rejoice at the prospect of Betty’s +marriage. He came and went as usual, faithful, pleasant, and kind; and +however much he suffered, he did not allow it to appear. + +Once, upon my lady offering him a word of sympathy, he threw up his +head with a smile. + +“Oh, madam,” he said, “it is kind of you to think of me, but my love +for Mistress Betty was not founded on hope. Long ago I realised that +this day must arrive for me, and I am only glad that she has chosen +where she is likely to find happiness.” + +My lady regarded him with secret admiration. + +“You think she will be happy?” + +“I have no doubt of it, madam, since she loves her husband,” he replied. + +But brave and unselfish as this good man was, it was not to be expected +he should waste his life in contemplating his lost mistress’s happiness +with another, and much as she valued his friendship, this was the last +thing Betty desired. Before the end of the year, David Pitcairn did +what many another gallant man has done, carried his wounded heart to +the wars, and endeavoured to fill his life with fresh interests and new +ambitions. He got a Commission in the 1st Royal Scots Regiment of Foot, +of which my lady’s brother, James, was at this time Major, and in which +in after years both Charles and little Hal became officers. He lived to +see Betty’s grandson succeed his father as Earl of Sutherland at the +age of fifteen, and died at London only four years ago, beloved and +lamented by a large circle of friends. He never married. + + * * * * * + +It had not taken me many minutes upon my lady’s arrival at Dysart +to perceive that something far removed from Betty’s marriage was +occupying her thoughts, and though for her sister’s sake she strove to +be cheerful and put away her melancholy, it was impossible not to see +that she was troubled in her mind. At last when the marriage contract +had been drawn up, and all their plans talked over, she broke it to us +that she was in much anxiety about her husband’s affairs. An Act of +Parliament had been passed, which put it out of the King’s power to +grant any portion of the forfeited estates to their unfortunate owners, +so that should Sir John be attainted, a calamity that he had up till +now very narrowly escaped, all their projects of private negotiations +for his pardon must be abandoned. Besides this a Commission had been +appointed to inquire into the particulars of every rebel family’s +goods and chatels; to spy and probe their innermost affairs, with the +power of citing anyone they pleased, whether closest friend or meanest +servant, to appear and give information about the private property of +each of these unfortunate gentlemen. All money got in this way, it was +ordered, must go into the Treasury for the payment of the public debts; +whereas anything owing to individuals by the owners of these same +forfeited estates was to be ignored, and the poor people must suffer +loss through no fault of their own, nor by the intention of their +patrons. + +All this was a cause of great grief to poor Lady Erskine for many +reasons. Not only was she keenly disappointed at the shattering of her +hopes of buying her husband’s pardon, but she now lived in terror of +the Commissioners discovering the value of the Silver Mine through some +of those they examined, and this she felt would be the end of all. Then +the thought of any having to suffer through her family was very bitter +to her, and if she lost not only her estate but their secret source +of wealth as well, how was this injustice to be avoided? Above all, +her heart and soul were shaken by constant terrors for her husband’s +safety. Placed as she was at a distance from him, and only too well +aware of his light-hearted disregard of consequences, she longed to +hear he was living anywhere away from the ill-fated King and his +companions, believing this to be the first necessity for his safety. +The uncertainty whether he would consent to this measure preyed upon +her mind day and night, and between her fear of their enemies and her +reluctance to force him against his inclination, her burden seemed at +times like to weigh her to the earth. + +“I still hope,” she said to me, “that Sir John may escape being +attainted, seeing that up to the present his name has been kept out of +the Bills; and I know that Mr. Haldane and his brother, and certainly +Patrick Campbell as well, are working in every possible way to prevent +it. But when these Commissioners arrive at Alva, and make enquiries +of all and sundry about this person and that, think you that should +a rumour of the garden” (for so we spoke of the mine) “come to their +ears, and what is to hinder it, seeing it is at the mercy of so many +needy people, they will not find in this an excuse for seizing Sir +John’s possessions and adding them to the list of forfeitures? My heart +is very heavy, Barbara, and at times I feel ready to sink under my +fears.” + +I would have given much to be able to comfort her, but could say very +little to restore her confidence. I left her alone to pour out her +heart in a letter to her husband, for faint as this consolation was, it +was still the dearest she possessed. + +The next day being the 12th of June we left Dysart for Alva, and before +we returned for the wedding, a still greater calamity had overtaken our +affairs, and our hearts were heavier than ever. + + +LETTER XV + + (Dysart.) + + I had the pleasure of hearing from my Dearest Life some days agoe, + but it had been long by the way, which gave me some pain about you; + and tho’ it was but three days writ after what I got last, it was + three weeks longer a coming to my hand. I must own you are most + kind and obliging in writing so frequently, and it is the only real + satisfaction I have at present, for tho’ I endeavor all I can to + make the best of my misfortune, yet at some times I am perfectly + like to sink under it; and the probability of so long and continued + afflictions, and which is most uneasy to me to be absent from you + without having any prospect of having it in my power to come to you, + together with the concern I have for my friends in the Fleet, and + many good people who are suffering; and I find the greatest favour + that’s expected is banishment. + + As to your own particular you are not yet attainted, so I hop will + scape this session of Parlyment, but if ever you are attainted all + you could once call your own is irrecoverably lost. There is such + acts of Parlyment passing as people cannot expect to save anything; + nay, even old tailys are in danger, and yours the more (as) it is + not registrate. The King can give no gift to any without any act of + Parlyment, and all goes for the public Debts. And these persons that + are on the Commission have ample power to doe what they please, and + make such narrow inspection in the forfeit estates that they can call + any person they please before them, and take their oaths about the + particulars of every family, and if they doe not appear they can fine + them of a considerable sum. + + I once expected your Brother R. and his master was to be at the + Hague, but now it’s believed they are to be att Isla Chapel (Aix + la Chapelle) but this act puts me out of any hop of a gift to him + of your Liberent, and to (have) had a little clause put in favour + of Mr. Nabit (the mine.) You see, my dear Soul, the present state + of affairs, and that all our projects that way is gone. I am told + by some you very narrowly missed being putt in the last Bill of + Attainder, and it’s affirm’d that your not being put in was owing to + P.(atrick) H.(aldane). + + If you still remain where you are att present it’s impossible you can + scape being attainted as soon as the Parlyment sits down, whereas + if you were in another place, some of your friends might prevent + your being put in with a better countenance, and if you do not, I am + convinced they will never attempt it. You see by all this that no + other person can be interpos’d; that if Mr. Amond (Sir John) does + not incline to comply to any conditions that would be propos’d, let + him stay abroad and get his money remitted to him; and if either + his Brother R. by his master’s friendship, or any other way, can + be fal’n on to prevent his being attainted be done, until the term + of years mentioned by the Parlyment be expired, which is from this + present time till the year 1719.... I have not any hope now but by + preventing your being attainted if possible, which can never doe if + you persist in your resolution of staying where you are. It’s my + duty to let you know this and desire you may consider seriously what + sad state you will bring your family to, and to beg you may not do + what you may for ever repent. Some regard I think should be had to + me and your children, tho’ for my own particular I had rather suffer + hardships than desire you to do what is against your inclination; + but as a mother I must have regard to them so far as to let you know + my opinion, and if ye doe not follow it, I cannot help it, but shall + endeavour to submit with patience. + + I am not a little sensible how far it’s uneasy to break off from so + agreeable a society, and when perhaps duty and inclination both bind + you; but in their present state I see not what any one man can doe, + and the fewer sufferers the better. And every body will not have + that hope or expectation you may have, but if your Brother Robin + doe come to Isla Chapel, it would be a good pretext to visit him. + This is sufficient on this head, and I shall be glad to have your + opinion as frankly and resolutely as I have given my advice.... I + came to my father’s some days agoe about a marriage which will not + be disagreeable to you. Bess is to be C----ess of W----ms, which + is a satisfaction to all her friends. The terms is this day agreed + on, and tho’ they are not what I either could a wisht or expected, + yet my father and other friends after making proposals of altering + found it would not doe, and has gone into what his tutors for the + time advised. She has not far to goe, and in case you should not + understand she has a great many easy chairs in which she may loll. + I goe home to-morrow and return here in a fortnight. You was very + kindly remembered by your new friend and he regrates he has you not + here at this time. You may be sure I am glad of the thing, but I am + in such a continu’d Dump I did not incline to be at the wedding, but + I cannot shun it. C. A. was here to be the Lady’s Lawyer.... Countess + Bess salutes you kindly and wishes you were here, tho’ she shou’d + bear all you could say now as to D. P. I see not what can become of + him.... God help me, for I labour under many difficultys and many + fears. I did not intend to let you know so much, but at some time it + will come out. + + As to sending you money it’s agreed ... it’s cheapest from London, + and I hope soon to have effects there to answer your demands. Write + to P. C., who is there and will doe it. He writ to me he should remit + the 50 pound I mentioned in my last, and pray write to him for what + you have occasion, for he will answer you whether the effects be + come to his hands or not, but he cannot miss to have them soon. + + I see so many difficultys in sending A. S(hor)t that it cannot doe. + I think I have answered all your questions in yours of the 22 of Ap. + Wishing my Dearest all manner of happyness I am ever, + + Yours. + + Your mother and sons are well. We drank Mr. Kid’s health yesterday + and all his friends. God preserve you. + + June 11. + +Back at Alva we were forced to wait with what patience we possessed +to see what would next befal, but a week later my lady wrote again to +Sir John in much the same strain as her former letter, so that you can +see nothing new had occurred so far. Having received one from him, +dated 29th of May, she was now to be deprived of the comfort of hearing +anything of her husband for several weeks, which as you can imagine did +not lessen her fears nor lighten her burden. + + +LETTER XVI. + + My Dearest Life, + + Yours of the 29 of May was forwarded by our friend + att London, which you may be sure was most welcome to me since there + can be nothing so agreeable as to hear you are well, and at the same + time to hear of two people whose welfare I am much interested in. I + went airly abroad this morning to visit my labourers, and it was so + hott I began to think how much more it must be so with you. I pray + God you may agree with it. + + There is one advantage of being with Kid, that you will live mighty + regular and get no ill examples. I wish from my heart all had the + same thoughts of him you have, but I am not altogether without hope + that will come and justice be done him; tho, as things have been of + late I do not expect to see it. But who would a thought six months + agoe Andrew wold lose his post of being Commander-in-Chief in this + Country, and that Mr. Beggar wold have it. His Master has made him + very bad returns for his fidelity, but I hop he shall use all his + faithful servants after that manner. + + I writ to you from my father’s house in relation to the Bill that’s + passing on the forfeitures. My friend writes from London he thinks + all personal Debts in danger. Some only thinks those since the 24 of + June last. I must own it is so horrid I can scarce believe it, but if + it is so it will ruin many, and to think that anybody will lose by + you is really terribly uneasy, particularly C.(harles) A.(reskine). + If it is so I shall do my endeavour to pay all so far as it can goe, + and trust to Providence who has hitherto been bountyful to us, and + I am sure you will agree with me. I was in hops things wold in time + have a more favourable aspect, but it’s impossible human invention + can contrive things worse than all the measures they have taken. I + find by the Ladys att London getting their jointure and daughters + provided, we may expect the same. If any here gets it, I make no + doubt of it, for I happen to be much in the Whig’s favour. I know + nothing I have done to merit it but being silent. In the meantime I + live in peaceable possession of all, haveing Mr. Beggar’s protection, + and by the advice of the above mentioned friend, by degrees I am to + sell all my Stock and prepare for the worst. I must own it was what I + was mighty unwilling to do, but I am now convinct it’s the best way + by much. + + As to Mr. Nabit, I am sorry I have not writ so fully as you might + understand. His fame was like to rise high, and at the same time + there was never less ground for it. I make no doubt that going down + would have turn’d to account in time, but that was a certain giving + out of money ... it was thought by all the Counsell the saffest + course, and the only way to make people think it was an idle project + of Mr. Amond’s. How far it will be of use that way I know not, but + so many poor Dogs has it at their mercy it will be wonderful if it + do not break out. I am positive however it was right to give up. + James Hamilton went away three months agoe, for he turn’d wrong in + the head and would not stay.... I told you in my last of my sister + Bess’ marriage, which is to be very soon, and I must goe to it. It’s + to their neighbour W----ms. I hope she will be very happy, and I + take it as a reward for her faithful service to Kid. He is really a + good-humour’d man, but too much upon the easy lay. C. A. is to be at + the weddin’. I showed him your letter in relation to A. S----t, about + his coming but he did not think it proper to send him for the reasons + you mentioned. + + As to my second Farm I still keep it, and am putting two lime-kilns + just now on it. I ride there frequently. Perhaps I may set up my + habitation there and farm it myself, but I think if ever I leave this + place I will not stay in Britain. Your children are well and in good + heart. Ha is perfectly recover’d. Your mother is well, and she and I + live easily together, tho’ none can be of more different sentiments; + but she disaproves all the violent measures, and is very concern’d + for you and thankful you are well; but she knows not where you are, + or she would be griev’d. I wish very often to be with you, my Dear + Soul, but as long as I can doe your service here I will never have + a thought of it; and I have saved more than any in my circumstances + has done, and never fail to represent when I am injur’d, which makes + me live easy, when many other good honest people are oppresst. My + paper sinks so much I fear you will have difficulty to read it.... + P.(atrick) H.(aldane) is one of the comishioners on the forfeitures. + Buchan and Munroe of Faulds are the Scots. Wishing your good company + and you all manner of real happiness, I am, my Dearest, ever Yours. + + As to remitting money, I told you before it’s easyest from London, + and I lay it on my friend entirely who would doe that as well as I + could wish and all things else, for he helps all in distress and it’s + his aim to do good + + Dearest Life, Adieu. + + June 18. Alva. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +THE CALAMITY FALLS; AND MY LADY ATTENDS HER SISTER’S WEDDING IN VERY +LOW SPIRITS + + +The sweet June days went slowly past, and we, occupied in various +ways, rejoiced in the hot bright weather and the growing beauty of the +country. The garden was fair with flowers, and all the wide domain +lay fresh and well-ordered under a cloudless sky. To be sure the +faint cool breezes of morning, laden with the scent of growing and +blossoming things, the hot, still noons, the tranquil evenings and the +clear, tender twilights, stirred in my heart a longing so great as to +be almost pain, that the one without whom my life would for ever be +incomplete, should enjoy their beauty with me; and looking into the +face of my dear Lady Erskine in those days and noting the wistfulness +in her eyes, I felt that she shared my unrest. For the summer days +brought no fresh news from France for either of us, and it was hard to +be cheerful, with that great impenetrable silence closing us in. + +“He will write to me for his birthday, be sure,” said my lady. “I have +never known him fail to send a few lines on that day when it happens +that we have been parted. Were I sure of his welfare and safety, +I should be easy at not hearing from him; but though he is a kind +and tender husband, Barbara, he is a man of great energy and almost +reckless courage, and you know I have many dark dreams of the dangers +into which he may be thrusting himself on behalf of the beloved Cause.” + +“It is the waiting that is so hard to bear, madam,” said I, sadly, “and +the lack of news. To write to one who is far off and to receive no +reply, is like knocking at a closed door behind which is nothing but a +silence that terrifies the heart.” + +“Poor child!” said she, kindly, “you are young to suffer such pain. But +do not forget that all our ways are ordered by a wise Providence, and +if we bear our trials with patience, they will surely turn to blessings +when the time of probation is past. I can see before me a long and +happy life for my dear Barbara, who for all her courage and sweetness +deserves an ample reward.” + +“Oh, madam!” cried I, “you are too good to say so. I constantly remind +myself how light is my trial compared with yours; but after all it does +not comfort me much to know that my dearest friend is sadder than I.” + +“Truly,” she answered, “my burden must needs be the heavier, for the +thought of the children’s loss is added to my own, were anything to +happen to their father. And since I think there is no fear of death +or dishonour for Anthony Fleming, a little further patience and brave +hopefulness are all that are needed to support you, my dear. As for Sir +John, God help us! for I know not what is to happen next.” + +It was truly with more pain for her than for myself that I saw each +post arrive bringing no packet from France, and though Mr. Campbell +wrote frequently, and gave my lady all the news that was going in +London, the longed-for letter failed to arrive, and fear was added to +anxiety. + +The morning of Sir John’s 41st birthday dawned as fair and as full of +promise as all that had gone before. A few white clouds in the sky only +made the blue more deep and perfect, a light breeze from the south blew +across the fields between us and the river, the distant mountains were +veiled in silver mist that by-and-bye the sun would disperse; it was +impossible to feel wholly sad on such a summer day. + +We walked in the garden, the Dowager leaning on her daughter’s arm, +the children running races and shouting in pure glee. I had plucked +a large cabbage-leaf, and having gathered a number of the first ripe +strawberries to fill it, I brought them to my lady for her approval. + +“Why,” she cried, “this is good luck! The first strawberries to be +gathered on Sir John’s birthday, that is what we have always desired. +Come, children, and taste them; they are your Papa’s favourite fruit.” + +Seating themselves on a garden-bench the ladies proceeded to feed the +children, who, nothing loth, devoured the luscious berries with smiles +of pleasure. + +“Oh,” cried Charles, at last, “how I wish Sir John were here to taste +them! Do you remember, mama, I used to think my papa would be home +before the trees were green, and now the roses are here, and the +strawberries are ripe. Oh, why doesn’t the King send him back?” + +“Courage, my grandson,” said the old lady, cheerfully, “let us hope he +will be here at the time of the Barley Harvest.” + +“Or before the leaves are off the trees,” cried I. + +“Or at least before the snow comes,” sighed my lady. + +“Then he will be here for _my_ birthday!” cried little Hal +triumphantly, his beautiful eyes alight with joy; and his mother kissed +the eager face uplifted to her, and murmured, “God grant it!” + +At that moment we heard the distant sound of a horse galloping towards +the house, and instantly our interest quickened, for the pace spoke of +haste, and in those days haste meant news of importance. + +“’Tis an express!” cried I, with a wild but foolish hope that it +brought tidings of my lover. + +“’Tis a letter from Sir John!” cried my lady. “He has remembered--he +must have directed Patrick Campbell to express it from London being +anxious I should receive it this day.” + +Her colour rose and her eyes sparkled. She went hurriedly from us +to secure the precious missive without delay, looking back over her +shoulder with a joyous smile! Alas! it was many weeks before I saw her +look so happy again. + +“God bless her, and grant the news be good!” said the dowager, as she +took my arm and followed slowly. “My son’s wife is indeed a lovable +woman, Barbara.” + +“Why, madam,” cried I, “there is not a thought in her heart that is +not good and sweet. How glad I am the letter has come to-day!” + +Before ten minutes were passed, I retracted my eager words, for by that +time my dear lady, and with her the whole household, were plunged in +the most distracting grief. + +Having followed her to the house we arrived in time to see her standing +in the hall, eagerly tearing open the letter which had just been put +into her hand, the little boys clinging to her skirts, and waiting for +the tit-bits of news she often doled out to them from their father’s +letters. + +As we entered she gave a loud cry, and crushing the letter in her hand, +she raised her face and gazed at us for an instant with a look so wild +and terrified that it made my heart stand still. The next moment she +turned and went into the parlour, where we found her seated by her +scrutoire, looking the picture of despair. + +Sick with anxiety I dropped the old lady’s arm and ran to embrace +her, begging her in the tenderest way to let us know the cause of her +misery. Old Lady Alva, though trembling in every limb, carefully shut +the door, and managed to reach a seat near her daughter-in-law, into +which she sank, pale and breathless. + +With her usual thought for others, my lady, seeing how much she was +moved, put out a shaking hand towards her and said, though her lips +were white and stiff, “Sir John is safe, madam, so far as I know. This +letter is not from France.” + +“Can you let us know the cause of your agitation, my daughter?” said +the old lady, gently. “Thank God my son is not concerned! But if you +are at liberty to divulge the tidings you have received I shall be +further gratified.” + +“Indeed, madam,” sighed my lady, “I see no reason why they should be +kept secret. They are, alas! but too widely known. Oh, woe is me! that +I should have been so grossly deceived by that villain. Ah, Barbara, +would that we had never trusted him!” + +“Whom do you mean, cousin?” cried I, still too frighted to think +clearly. “Who has betrayed us?” + +“Who, but that base wretch, James Hamilton, whom I trusted with all the +knowledge and information about the Mine that I had myself. Did I not +make him overseer in my latest transactions, and did he not know I was +trusting him with the most precious things in life--my husband’s safety +and honour? Oh, that such baseness should exist, and in a man, too, +with good blood in his veins!” + +“Why, what hath he done?” cried I trembling. + +“Listen, my dear, and you shall hear,” said my lady, taking up the +letter in her lap, and smoothing it out. “‘I am bound to tell you some +news,’ says Mr. Campbell, ‘which I know will greatly disturb you, and +which in an unexpected way bids fair to upset our plans. You will be +surprised to hear that there is lately come from Scotland, one, James +Hamilton, who, though I have not yet seen him, I take to be the same +who was lately employed by Sir John in his _garden_. This fellow, +through cupidity, or desire of fame, I imagine, though I take it he +is acting a very treacherous part, brought with him to London some +specimens of ore; and having made inquiries as to the best method of +proceeding, and fearing I presume to employ his friends in such a +matter, went straight to my Lord Mayor, and there made an affidavit of +what he knew about the Mine. I am credibly informed that he made no +secret of anything. He spoke frankly of his position at Alva, saying +that he was at first employed only in smelting the ore, but he saw it +brought up from the mine in great abundance, and he believes there are +still several rich veins unexplored. He further said that after Sir +John went out in the Rebellion, he was employed by his lady in digging +out as much ore as possible, stowing it in old barrels, etc., and +burying it within the grounds of the house--the very spot is located. +In fact there is nothing wanting in his tale, and the reason he gives +for this disclosure is, forsooth, that he knew it must come out when +the Commissioners came down to Alva, and he believed it right that +His Majesty’s Ministers should have previous knowledge, and be able +to deal with so important a business as it deserves. You will see now +that all our plans have been knocked on the head, and other strings +must be pulled in order to work the affair in a suitable manner. I beg +of you not to let yourself be too downcast, for I do not yet despond +of arranging some settlement, which, with Sir John’s consent must work +to his and your advantage. I have written to him and trust he will be +brought to see the matter in the same light as myself. In the meantime, +you, my dear lady, will, I know, have many qualms of doubt, but of one +thing you may be certain, that both I and all your friends will do our +best to extricate our good Sir John from the difficulties into which, +through no fault of his own, nor of yours, he has fallen.’” + +My lady dropped the letter, and for some minutes we sat staring at each +other in blank dismay. A thought struck me sharply. + +“Oh, cousin,” I cried, “I believe I am to blame in not telling you of +Mr. Hamilton’s threats that day before he left, but they seemed to me +so idle I thought them not worth repeating. Perhaps--oh, perhaps if you +had known them, you might have foreseen this calamity.” + +“Tell us now, child, what he said,” exclaimed the dowager. + +“Why, madam, his words were wild. He asked me very abruptly to be his +wife, and upon my informing him that such a thing was impossible, he +spoke in a violent way: said I would regret it for ever if I did not +give my consent. More was depending upon it than I thought, but not +so much on my own account as for the sake of the friends I loved. Oh, +madam, do you think he would have abandoned his wicked scheme had I +accepted him?” + +My lady was thinking deeply. + +“’Tis just possible,” she replied, “if, as I take it, he was actuated +by a desire for gain. Had he been sure of you and your fortune, +Barbara, he might have foregone his wicked betrayal of us.” + +“Oh!” cried I, the tears pouring down, “would to God I could have given +him my fortune, if it would have saved him from this terrible crime. +But how could anyone foresee such villainy, or dream of such an end as +this?” + +For a time I wept, unrestrained, fearing that in her heart my dear +lady was blaming me for helping to bring about this disaster, but after +a few minutes she bade me kindly to dry my tears. + +“Comfort yourself, my dear girl,” she said, “I do not believe you are +so much to blame as you think. James Hamilton must have nursed his +deceit for many months, and worked well in secret to carry out his +wicked scheme. His frenzy about you three months ago was, I feel sure, +worked up to give him the excuse he desired of leaving Alva; for once +Satan had entered his heart to make him play the part of Judas, no +influence could have softened him, no love restrained him. Alas! alas! +to think how Sir John trusted him, and now he is ready to betray his +master, as the other Judas did, for paltry silver.” + +And with that the full tide of her fear and anguish swelled in her +heart, and she bowed her head upon her hands and wept. + +Over this terrible event we talked long and earnestly, but little +satisfaction could be gained. The future was all uncertain, for what +the Parliament would decide to do was still unknown, and though we +suggested to each other various ways out of the difficulty, not one +seemed wholly satisfactory. As we were due at Dysart that week for the +wedding, my lady looked forward to meeting Mr. Erskine and taking his +counsel on the matter. But I must own that the gaiety of the occasion, +which ought to have been without stint, was greatly dimmed by the +heavy anxiety we carried about in our breasts. Try as we would to be +light-hearted and careless, “Mr. Nabit’s affair,” as my lady calls it, +was the uppermost thought in our minds, and the treachery of Hamilton +cast a cloud over all our pleasure. + +My lady, being much occupied, sent me with the children and Phemie to +Dysart a couple of days in advance, she herself arriving with Aunt +Betty on the very morning of the wedding-day. My dear Betty made a +beautiful and happy bride, and my Lord Wemyss with his handsome person +and pleasant manners won great favour from all her friends. + +I was somewhat surprised to see David Pitcairn among the guests (his +Reverend uncle performing the ceremony), his grave courtesy as genuine +as ever, his kind eyes following Betty just as of yore. I think he +had steeled himself to this last encounter as a kind of sacrificial +farewell, for the very next day he left Dysart, and though he returned +there from time to time, I, for one, never saw him again. + +A few days after the wedding the Earl and Countess invited us all to +Wemyss, where we spent a week very happily, for it was impossible not +to be affected by company so merry and good-humoured. On the night +before we left we were sitting at supper, the servants having left the +room, and stories were told and toasts drunk with much gaiety, for as +it was but a family party there was little reserve required. + +My lord stood up with a full glass, and gave “The King!” + +The young Countess rose to her feet, her face flushed, her eyes +sparkling. There was a crystal water-jug before her on the table, and +with a graceful movement she passed her glass above it. + +“Ay, the King!” she cried, “with all my heart--God bless him!” + +With a little laugh my lady followed her example, and I, nothing loth, +did likewise. The Earl looked amused but disapproving. + +“What, ladies, treason at my table? Tut, tut, this will never do.” + +“My lord,” said Betty, smiling at him very sweetly, “in the brightest +moment of our hopes last year, I would not drink confusion to the +King’s enemies because you, my lord, were one of them. You would not +have me less loyal now to the unfortunate Prince over the water, who is +far from being the enemy of any of us?” + +“Why, Betty,” replied my lord, “as to that you must please yourself. +I wish the poor man no ill, so ’tis no harm to drink his very good +health. But you must forgive me, madam, if I say I cannot but rejoice +at his failure, for had he succeeded in his design, your adorable head +would have been so turned that you would never have looked my way +again.” + +And then in quieter tones he gave the toast of “Absent Friends,” and +smiles died away and the light laughter was hushed, for there was not a +soul in the room that night that was not yearning over loved ones far +away. + + +LETTER XVII + + (Wemyss.) + + MY DEAREST LIFE, + + I delay’d writing in hops to have heard from you, + butt it is more than a month since I had that pleasure, and it was + just when you was 41, so you may judge what a pain it is to me. Now + that our London friend can convey our letters, it surprises me there + is none. I pray God you may be well. + + I had a letter from our friend at London, and he tells me he has writ + to you of the discovery James H. has made of Mr. Nabit’s affair. It + has griev’d me very much, and it is no small satisfaction that it + has not failed by any neglect of mine, but he certainly designed to + commit the villainy and went away with that veiu, for nothing I could + do could make him stay. God in his wise providence has order’d it, + and I must submit, but it is a great tryal. I have done already what + was fit to do upon such ane exigence, and my friend will doe all in + his power at London, but what will be the end of it God knows! I + am not altogether without hope, tho’ I must own my grounds are but + small. I dare not write so plainly to you of it as I incline, lest it + should mis-carry and doe ane injury on that particular, but I think + it a lucky providence it went off, and I hope it shall never come on + till it do it (with) the right owner. God in wise providence thinks + fit to try us many different ways. I pray God make us both have the + right use of them, and seeing the vanity and emptiness of all things + in this world, we may seek what is more lasting and durable. + + Bess was married Wednesday last, and after I had order’d my unlucky + affair the best I could, I came to my father’s that morning. Now I + am at her own house, where I could have been merry and blithe, but + now melancholy prevails so much that I cannot express it. And yet + I cannot help thinking this cannot last; but at another time I am + ready to despair, and my being absent from you without any prospect + of meeting is the bitterest part of all. But I ought to be resigned + in that and every other particular, and wait the Lord’s time with + patience. + + Your boys are well and my health is better now than it used to be, + tho’ my toyl has been great and my mind much disturbed. The earl and + his wife salutes you and wishes often for you here, and remembers + with great respect your good company. + + I cannot frame a notion now but everything will be unlucky, but that + is a fault. Aunt Betty is here and is in great concern for all that + may affect you. Hope the best and trust in God, for what he sends + is certainly best for us. Dearest Life, let me hear from you, and + endeavor to make your misfortuns as easy as possible. I can say no + more just now but that I hope the person who comes shall never see + far in Mr. Nabit, but you shall know. Write to our friend at London + when you want money, for that is the only way I can supply you. + Melancholy increases when I either write or speak on this subject, so + I’ll end. Wishing you all patient submission and intire trust in God, + who is able and ready to help us if we be not wanting to ourselves. + May (He) ever preserve you and send you His blessing is the earnest + wish of her who is ever + + Yours. + + July 8. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE AFFAIR OF THE MINE IN THE MOUNTAIN IS MUCH DISCUSSED AT LONDON, BUT +WITH NO COMFORTING RESULTS + + +I have now to tell you of a period of great heaviness and anxiety to +all those concerned in Sir John’s affairs. Many a time in after days +have I heard my dear lady say, that these three months which followed +our return from Dysart were the longest and darkest of all that weary +year. + +The danger of my kind guardian’s ruin now seemed tenfold more imminent, +for public attention having been brought to bear upon his affairs +and himself placed in a position too prominent to be secure, it +was impossible to know what would next befall. At first we at Alva +scarcely realised how much was being made of the affair at London, but +as the days went on, bringing my lady many letters from Mr. Campbell +describing the development of events, it was soon made clear that the +matter was considered a very serious one indeed. Mr. Charles Erskine +was much with us, and many a long and serious talk my lady had with +him. Sir Harry Stirling of Ardoch, who was also in her confidence, +frequently added his counsel to these discussions, and being a sensible +and energetic man, greatly in favour with Sir John, his presence gave +my lady courage, and helped a little to ease her burden. + +The story of the “Silver Mine in the Mountain,” as it was called, had +excited a huge interest among the authorities, for you may be sure +that not only were the reports of its wealth exaggerated, but it was +seriously affirmed that the whole range of the Ochils was teeming with +precious metals, and it only needed a skilled engineer of mines to +discover the treasure. As, by an old Scots Act of 1592, a tenth part +of all ore found in Scotland belonged by right to the Crown, there +was some reason in the eagerness of the Government to learn the truth +of the matter, and the affair was mentioned in the House of Commons, +discussed in the Cabinet, and indeed brought before King George himself +by my Lord Townshend, the Secretary of State. + +The King, who had had some knowledge of mining in his native country, +where silver was found to some extent, was monstrously interested +in the news, and demanded that my Lord Townshend should bring him +an exact report, first of the value of the ore, and secondly of the +extent and richness of the veins yet to be worked. The ore having been +submitted to Sir Isaac Newton, the Master of the Mint, he sent in a +report to my lord, which though satisfactory in its way, only served +to inflame their greedy desires, for Sir Isaac affirmed that “the ore +was exceeding rich, a pound weight avoirdupois holding 4/2 in silver;” +moreover he added that the silver was of the purest quality, holding +neither gold nor copper. + +As to a knowledge of the mines themselves, my Lord Townshend informed +the King that he had no means of gaining this without sending someone +into Scotland to examine the locality, and as Sir John was not yet +attainted, and the property still in the hands of his lady, that, said +my lord, would be a doubtful proceeding. Upon this his Majesty asked if +there were no other way of getting the information, whereupon it was +proposed to send for Mr. Haldane of Gleneagles, who, being connected +with Sir John’s family, and at the same time much in favour at Court, +would be a likely person to supply them with what they needed. + +The result of this combination was that one morning my lady received +an express from Mr. Haldane, which, when she had perused it, threw +her into the utmost consternation. Indeed her rage and grief were +like to make a breach between them for good, for he wrote to her in a +way which, instead of furthering his ends, helped to frustrate them +altogether. I am willing to believe that this gentleman meant nothing +but kindness to Sir John, and was indeed rather proud of his part +in the affair, thinking he was serving the family in the best manner +possible; but he and my lady did not see the thing in the same light. +He told her that the King had graciously commanded him to write to her +instead of sending down officers to ask her questions; that it was +therefore absolutely necessary she should inform him of all particulars +connected with the mine, its probable extent, what they had got out +of it, and particularly what knowledge she had of any acts connected +with its possession, with which Sir John may have acquainted her. +His Majesty, he said, was inclined to clemency, and were her reports +satisfactory he had promised to sign a pardon permitting Sir John to +return to Scotland and resume occupation of his estates, provided the +mines were worked openly, and a proper share of the precious metal +confirmed to the Crown. This Mr. Haldane considered a fair and merciful +concession, and he advised my lady to keep nothing back but to rely on +his Majesty’s generosity; for if she failed to comply with his demands +in every particular, the King would cause Sir John’s name to be put in +the next bill of attainder, and my lady and her family would be treated +with the height of rigour. + +Now you can well understand that to a person of my lady’s spirit such +a letter would but act as an incentive to defiance. I can remember to +this day how proudly she drew herself up, her eyes flashing and the +ready colour rising to her cheek. + +“Is it to be imagined,” she cried, “that I shall comply with such a +demand as that? If Sir John is not yet attainted he is a free man, and +an honest gentleman, with full right to do what he will with his own. +No creature on earth, be he King or Prime Minister, has any title to +call him to account for any part of his possessions; no, nor any right +to peer and pry into his affairs. Let them send their officers, vile +wretches, to make enquiries, I care not, but ’tis little they will get +out of me! Comply, indeed! As soon would I give up my house to the +first comer and beg my bread, with a child in each hand, from door to +door!” + +“What will you tell him?” I asked. + +“I shall tell him, Barbara, nothing but the truth, you may be sure of +that. But it will not be all the truth,” she added, with a laugh that +betrayed her bitterness. “Do they deserve open dealings from me? Is +it not a fine thing to write to a woman behind her husband’s back, +ordering her to betray his interests without a word to or from himself? +Oh, I shall never forgive Gleneagles for this! I could not have +believed him capable of such treachery. I am certain his good wife, my +sister Nell, can know nothing of it; but how can I ever be friendly +again with her spouse?” + +“Will you consult Mr. Erskine,” I said, “before you write?” + +My lady remained for some time gazing thoughtfully on the ground. + +“I think,” she said at length, “it will be wiser to write at once +having consulted no one. Who knows what dangers lurk for those who +befriend us as well as for ourselves? If Charles were here, or Harry +Stirling, I would talk the matter over with them, but I cannot conceive +that anything they might say would alter my mind, and if the King is +angry it were better not to involve my friends.” + +“Oh, dear madam,” cried I, in childish fear. “You will not say aught to +anger the King?” + +“Why, Barbara, as to that we must take our chance, but I fear my reply +will scarce appear conciliatory to him and his friends. I shall say +that ’tis true Sir John has found silver on his estate (that fact can +no longer be concealed), but to no great amount; indeed the vein he +was working hath already given out, and I am in doubt whether any more +will be found. I shall say that I can give him no information of any +kind, that I know nothing of acts or treaties, but that I should esteem +it a truly unfriendly action if any were sent down here to investigate +matters in the absence of Sir John. I will remind him that my husband +is not yet attainted, and in the meantime I have full control of all +his property and estates, so that no steps can be taken without my +consent.” + +Some such reply as this was forthwith written and despatched that +day, my lady still burning with indignation and full of wrath. But I +think she repented her haste and heat--though not her decision--when, +a few days later, she heard from Mr. Campbell. Her letter, he told +her, had greatly enraged the others, and Mr. Haldane, acting always in +the King’s interest, agreed with my Lord Townshend that nothing now +remained but to make out the order of inquiry and send a Commission +from the Government to Scotland without delay. To ease my lady’s +mind on this score, Mr. Campbell assured her that he had in his mind +something which would delay this scheme, hoping, indeed, to prevent it +altogether. + +Sick at heart as my lady was, and torn with fears of all kinds, she yet +believed so strongly in Mr. Campbell’s good sense and kindness that his +promises comforted her not a little, and enabled her to bear with some +semblance of patience the uncertainty and delay of the next few weeks. +Mr. Erskine, as I said, came frequently from Edinburgh to see her, and +nothing could exceed his kindness and diligence on her behalf. + +She was now busily employed in removing from their hiding-place near +the house the barrels and casks of ore, and bestowing them safely in a +spot, of which none but herself, and Mr. Erskine, and the men employed +had any knowledge. As the strictest secrecy was to be preserved, the +work was done during the night, and great ingenuity must have been +used, for not a creature ever discovered nor attempted to divulge the +matter. + +On our asking what means Mr. Campbell was employing to delay the +sending of the Commission, Mr. Erskine told us that by the advice +of Sir David Dalrymple, the Lord Advocate, he had brought to their +notice the old Scots law which enacted that minerals found on any +man’s estate were not to be included in confiscated property; so that, +even supposing Sir John were attainted, the Government would have no +more interest in his mines than a small share in the profits. This +consideration made them pause, for they were determined to get the +most out of it that they could, and yet were reluctant about ignoring +the law in a way that would probably enrage all Scotland. However, +the delay was precious to our interests, and when one day Mr. Erskine +informed my lady that he had decided to go to Holland next month to +meet with his brother, Dr. Erskine, and learn what could be done for +Sir John by the influence of the Czar, her heart was greatly lightened +and hope again asserted itself. + +Mr. Erskine was to go first to his country house, Tinwald, in +Dumfriesshire, and from there to London, that he might consult with Mr. +Campbell before setting out for the Hague. As it turned out, this step +was the best he could have taken, for, as you will see later, he also +was instrumental in delaying the Commission, although, owing to the +zealousness of Mr. Haldane, and some others, to serve the King, it was +found impossible to dispose of it altogether. + +Not having had any word of Sir John for nigh two months, my lady was +getting very downcast as to what had become of him, and her fears were +not lessened by reading in the papers that my Lord Duffus had been +arrested at Hamburg, and was now in prison. Thoughts of her husband’s +danger haunted her night and day, and we were all greatly relieved when +one evening towards the end of July two letters reached her from Sir +John, which set her immediate fears to rest. More than anything else +was she thankful to hear that her husband was no longer in the company +of the exiled King, though if she could have known the business he was +then employed in, I warrant she would have thought she had room enough +for fears. + +In her reply to those letters you will see that her method of +expressing herself is more cautious than usual, for she takes the name +of _Mrs. Amond_ for herself and _Mr. Ashton_ for Sir John, while Mr. +Campbell is _Duncan_, Mr. Erskine, _Key_, and Mr. Haldane, _Humphray_. + + +LETTER XVIII + + July 29. + Dearest Creature, + + It’s impossible to express the trouble and + uneasyness Mrs. Amond has been in since the last misfortune, which + you know of long ere now both from Duncan and her; and to add to + her trouble she had not heard from Mr. Ashton for two months, for + yours of the 3 and another of the 12 of July only came to her hand + last night. I can assure you, both were most acceptable and gave her + that quiet of mind which she had not felt of a long time. Duncan told + me in his last letter he was to writ to you, and he will inform you + better of that unlucky affair and how it now stands than I can doe. + But he has acted a winderful part, and has been so far successful to + delay it till Mr. Ashton be on a surer footing.... Who knows but it + may turn to Mr. Ashton’s advantage, and in the meantime I hop you + will soon get a good account of all ... which, if rightly managed, + will be of use. Key and Mrs. Amond has both been in pain how to + manage everything that could occasion the appearing of what they + were earnest to hide as long as Humphray had anything to do in the + country. At such a time it’s impossible to think all will succeed as + we wold have it; but with Duncan’s diligence we got more time for all + than could have been expected, and if it had not been for Duncan, Mr. + Ashton wold a been undone by one who has the same relation to Mr. + Ashton that Duncan has, but he acted the contrary part and pusht Mr. + Ashton’s ruin, and said it was to serve him and his family. How will + Mrs. Amond live with that man that has used her best friend so ill? + To be just to his wife, she thought it really was as he said; but his + actings in that particular has made him odious, and yet I intend to + be in good friendship with him, more for his ill than his good. + + Key goes to his Country-house this week and intends to go from + thence to the Carse (Holland) by way of Airth (London) that he may + talk with Duncan, and then go and find Peter (Dr. Erskine) by whose + help only we are to expect something done. Mr. Ashton is doubtful if + it will doe. No body can say it will or it will not, but as things + now are, it seems absolutely necessare to try; and had Mr. Ashton + been attainted and the misfortun to follow, there could a been no + retrieving; and if Peter doe not secure it before Humphray return, we + will be in a very hard state. But there has been so many different + turns of providence in that affair, Mrs. Amond has hopes yet, tho’ + when she reflects how many difficulties (there are) and perhaps that + of Mr. Ashton’s not being willing to agree to terms that may be askt, + she fears the worst. But her greatest concern is for Mr. Ashton, and + she begs if you do come to the Carse to meet Key or Peter that you + may take care not to come where you may be in danger, because the + Prints bears that Lord D.(uffus) was taken at Hamburg, and she had + rather all want to Pot before Mr. Ashton’s person were in the least + danger. It certainly was a right measure for Key to go and see Peter, + and the more that a near friend was sent to Peter’s master with a + view to prepossess Peter with an ill opinion of Ashton, Key, Duncan + and all the rest, that so they might play their own game; and when + they hear of Key’s going it will put that family (the Haldanes) mad. + Certain it is Humphray has made Peter great offers if he will get his + master to agree to what he desires. + + I doubt not Duncan will supply you with money, for he is the only + person that can do it just now, and he has the effect, so write to + him freely. + + Mrs. Amond was afraid you had been displeased with her for asking you + to leave your society. It was a hardship on her to ask you; but when + she thought how much was at stake, and the opportunity lost could + never be recalled except Kid had better success, she thought it right + to lay it before you; and your being content to yield to your friends + and her, makes her both wish and hop it may be done in the manner you + wold have it, and she will never wish you to doe anything that may + reflect on you or occasion you uneasyness. + + If you saw what different affairs Mrs. Amond has every day you wold + see it’s impossible for her to leave this place, and indeed, as + things now are, she cannot leave it a day; so she has not the least + thought of coming tho’ she inclines it very much, but she could not + doe it without partly blaming herself, and all the world wold do the + same. And as she has always preferr’d Mr. Ashton’s interest to her + own satisfaction, she intends to continue in her duty till providence + sends her a happy opportunity of seeing that person who is so much + the object of her thoughts, and for whom she thinks she can never doe + enough; and it’s her satisfaction that, barring the vilainy of that + creature (Hamilton) which was no way her fault, all her matters had + been as well as could have been expected at such a time. Mr. Ashton’s + boys are well. + Dearest Life, Adieu. + + I writ to Duncan last week to send you money that you might not be + obligt to wait for it in case you intended to leave the place. May + God preserve you and direct you in every particular, and for God’s + sake beware of coming where you may be in danger. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +THE MATTER IS STILL FURTHER DELAYED, BUT OUR ANXIETIES CONTINUE + + +“How often did I say to you in the old days, Barbara, that I had dark +misgivings about the Silver Mine?” said my lady one day, resting her +head upon her hand and looking weary and discouraged. “I knew not what +it meant, but ever have I had the presentiment that it would be the +cause of great misfortune, and behold it is come true!” + +It was now the middle of August, and the negotiations in London had +advanced considerably, but in no very satisfactory manner for Sir +John. The post had just arrived, and I had found my Lady Erskine deep +in her letters, from which she very obligingly read me some extracts. +The situation certainly gave rise to much anxiety. In spite of Sir +David Dalrymple’s verdict, the Ministers had been advised by their own +lawyers to ignore the Scottish law of mines as to confiscature, so that +our hopes in that direction were undermined; and as each party, King, +Ministers, and Commons worked secretly in the matter, it seemed that +much time would be lost before any decision could be come to. + +“Dear madam,” cried I, in response to my lady’s remarks, “does not Mr. +Campbell still have hope that it may turn to Sir John’s benefit? He has +not lost heart, and why should we? He is determined to fight for it, +and with the help of Mr. Erskine and Doctor Robin, may we not hope that +something will be done?” + +“My heart is very heavy,” she sighed, “and oh, the time is long--long! +If I had but the assurance, Barbara, that my dear life would be +restored to me safe and sound, I would almost consent to give them the +information they desire, and let them do their worst. The absence of +Sir John is still the bitterest part of all.” + +“Courage, dear cousin!” I whispered, kneeling down beside her and +encircling her with my arms, for the look in her eyes smote my heart, +and I knew that I had no real comfort to give her. “Be patient a little +longer and brave, madam, I pray.” + +“The many difficulties that lie in our path keep recurring to my mind,” +she said, rousing herself a little, “and I go over them to myself +again and again. We know now that, in spite of all Mr. Campbell’s +care, the Scots law of mines is to go for naught. The Government is +eagerly anxious to make Sir John an outlaw, and lay hands on all his +belongings. They are determined to send down the commission to see +what is in the matter, and thereby we incur great danger; ‘for,’ says +Patrick Campbell, ‘if they find nothing where they imagine mountains +of silver, they will be very angry, and say there is no reason why Sir +John should get his pardon, seeing he has nothing to give in return; +if, on the other hand, they stumble on something of value, scruples +will at once be raised--why should it not all be seized and made use +of in payment of the public debts? The ministers fear the clamour of +the House of Commons in these days, and there are signs that my Lord +Townshend is not so secure as he thinks.’ You see, Barbara, Sir John is +‘between the devil and the deep sea,’ as the saying is, and nothing is +less certain now than his pardon.” + +I held my peace, depressed beyond measure by what I had heard. + +“On the other hand,” she went on, “there are other difficulties which +arise in my mind, knowing my dear husband as I do. Suppose the Prince +of Wales prevails with his father to grant the remission, and the +latter makes conditions too hard for Sir John to accept, what then? We +are in a worse hole than before. Were they to insist upon his taking +the oath of allegiance to King George, and renouncing all interest in +his rightful King; or worse still, were they to question him in the +hope of his turning spy, I am perfectly certain that Sir John would +refuse to accept anything at their hands, and prefer rather to live and +die an exile.” + +“And _you_ would rather that he did so, madam,” cried I. + +“Oh, without doubt, my dear, I would. I could not ask him to stain his +honour, however much I should benefit. But can you wonder, child, that +my heart is sore, thinking of all that may lie before us? Sir John is +not a very young man, and my boys are ever in my thoughts.” + +And with that she left me, going upstairs as I suspected to her +praying-closet, where she was wont to seek comfort and help in all her +troubles. + + * * * * * + +I will now tell you briefly of what took place at London, without +waiting to describe the way in which each item of news reached us. The +summer was nearly over, and it was fully a year since the beginning of +that unlucky affair, which had brought nothing but loss and woe to so +many. The unfortunate prisoners still lay in their dungeons, and from +time to time we heard sorrowful tales of sickness and deaths among +them. It had been decided, in a quite illegal way, that the Scots +prisoners were to be tried at Carlisle in the autumn, chiefly, as we +all knew, because no Scots jury could be trusted to condemn them; +and this action greatly increased the rage and discontent against +the Government, for all parties throughout the country acknowledged +its injustice. Many blameless people were suffering privation, and +bereavement, and bitter loss, and the state of our poor country was +truly to be deplored. One piece of comfort my lady had, for old Colonel +Erskine and his son, though still in the Fleet were, owing to the +kindness of their friends, in good heart and fair health. Great hopes +were held out of their final delivery (which indeed took place a couple +of months later), seeing that nothing could be found against them. + +We were made anxious about this time by hearing that our little +favourite, Lordy Erskine, was laid down with the small-pox, from which +both his stepmother and her little daughter were suffering. He was +indeed a most attractive child, and it was with great relief that +we heard in good time of his complete recovery. And here I think I +must tell you of Tommy’s spirited reply to General Stanhope, which, +though you may have forgotten it, was much quoted at the time among +his friends. When the Secretary one day, some weeks before the Earl of +Mar left Scotland, was visiting Westminster School, his eye lighted +on my young lord, and, being struck by his charming appearance, he +inquired whose son he was. On being told, he went up to the boy, and +asked him some questions as to how his studies were progressing. Tommy +replied modestly, “Indifferently well.” Whereupon Mr. Stanhope, with +what I must confess was very questionable taste, hoped that whatever my +Lord Erskine learned at school, he would learn not to be a Rebel like +his father. At that Tommy put his hands on his sides, and looking the +General steadily in the face, said boldly, “Let me remind you, sir, +that it is not yet decided _who_ are the Rebels!” + +As his aunt, Lady Jean, remarked when telling us the story, the +Government might deprive him of his estates, but they could not rob him +of his good sense and ready wit. + + * * * * * + +The “Process of Outlawry” against Sir John was suddenly checked by +the consideration that, although the Commissioners were sent to Alva, +they might easily fail in their quest without the assistance of the +owner. Mr. Campbell had taken care to enlarge upon Sir John’s wide and +intimate knowledge of mining affairs, and indeed at that time he was +one of the few gentlemen in Britain who had made the subject a matter +of study. Having worked the coal upon his estate, and discovered the +Silver Mine for himself, it was given out that he knew more of the +geological conditions of the Ochil Range than any man living, and it +occurred to Lord Townshend that to quarrel with the man that possessed +such valuable knowledge was not the wisest policy; in fact, it might +be compared to the folly of killing the goose that laid the golden +eggs. He therefore, after consulting with the Prince of Wales--the +King himself having gone over to Hanover on a holiday--sent for Mr. +Campbell, and after some preliminaries, suggested that the best thing +for all concerned was to persuade Sir John to return to Scotland to +conduct the business himself. Mr. Campbell, always anxious to gain +time, and to make things sure before committing his friends, said he +would be obliged to lay the matter before Mr. Erskine, whom he was +expecting immediately to visit him at London. My lord thereupon begged +that Mr. Erskine be persuaded to call upon him on his arrival, to which +proposition Mr. Campbell, nothing loth, agreed. + +My lady, in the midst of her anxiety, was amused to learn that when Mr. +Erskine was introduced to the Secretary that gentleman asked him point +blank what information he could give about his brother’s Mine. But the +future Lord Justice Clerk was too good a lawyer to fall into so simple +a trap. He answered very firmly that, as he understood the disclosure +of that affair was to be made the condition of some favour shown to Sir +John, until he was assured of the extent and certainty of the benefit, +he must beg to be excused from giving them any information. This reply, +which was only what might have been expected, threw the Minister back +to where he had been; so after much consultation and discussion, it +was at last agreed that the Prince of Wales should grant a protection +to Sir John for his return to Britain, at the same time writing to the +King in Hanover for a warrant for his pardon, which would be delivered +to him, signed and sealed, upon his presenting himself to Lord +Townshend. Mr. Erskine and Mr. Campbell were at great pains to have +the conditions made as plain as possible, for, they affirmed, it would +be useless to expect Sir John to take oaths, or to give information +against his inclination. A promise was then made that full discovery of +the Mine was all that would be required of him, and my Lord Townshend +suggested that a letter to this effect be intrusted to Sir Harry +Stirling, and that he should set out forthwith to find his uncle and +lay the matter before him. + +We were all now able to breathe a little more freely, though our +anxieties were by no means at an end. For close upon this came the +news, that in spite of the promises of the Prince and the Minister, +the Commissioners were still to be sent to spy out the land, and by no +means would they be delayed until Sir John could send a reply. This +excess of zeal was attributed to Haldane of Gleneagles, and as you can +imagine, it did not tend to increase my lady’s love for that gentleman. +However, backed by his friends in the House of Commons, Gleneagles was +like to win his way, which prospect filled us with fear and trouble, as +there was no saying what the result would be, should the Commissioners +reach Alva before Sir John landed at London, and had his pardon in his +hand. + +Sir Isaac Newton was now approached, it being suggested that he should +himself head the party of inquiry, and make investigation of the mines. +But fortunately as it turned out, this wise and learned man raised +objections to this scheme, affirming that as he was not skilled in such +matters he would be of little use, and suggesting rather that someone +bred up to that kind of work be sent instead of him. He spoke of the +King’s Silver Mines in Hanover, and gave it as his opinion that an +expert from that country should be chosen. This meeting with general +approval, an express was despatched abroad to summon one, Dr. Justus +Brandshagen, who was said to be a skilled engineer of mines. + +This news enraged my Lady Erskine to such a degree that she could not +contain her wrath, and as I was equally angry, we stormed together for +several minutes till our feelings were somewhat relieved. + +“And who,” she cried with fine scorn, pointing to Mr. Campbell’s +letter, “who do you suppose is appointed guide and assistant to this +German miner? Who, but our good friend and late trusty servant, Mr. +James Hamilton!” + +“Oh, madam,” cried I aghast, “’tis little short of an outrage! How will +that man ever be able to look at you again? How dare he show his face +within twenty miles of Alva? This indeed might be called adding insult +to injury. I, for one, will never speak to him again.” + +“Alas! Barbara,” said my lady, with tears of anger in her eyes, “’tis +but the fulfilment of all his hopes, the clear result of all his +scheming. For money he betrayed us, for money he will return, and I +doubt not he will be able to brazen it out, and even to justify his +conduct in the eyes of some people.” + +An urgent letter was that day despatched to Mr. Erskine, begging him as +he valued my lady’s friendship and his brother’s welfare, to lose no +time in setting out for Holland, and having found Sir John (for we had +not yet heard of his meeting with Sir Harry Stirling) to urge him with +all the fervour and eloquence in his power to make no delay, but return +at once to England, and secure the favour promised to him. How short +a time lay before him none could tell, but it would be a monstrous +wrong, now that the longed-for boon lay so near his grasp, to let it +fail them through any lack of care. Should Sir John refuse to listen to +reason, there was still the help of Doctor Robin and his master to fall +back upon. “But oh,” she wrote, “do all you can to persuade him (and +it’s _you_ that have the golden tongue) to listen to our wishes in the +matter.” + +A speedy reply was returned to her, saying that Mr. Erskine was on the +eve of starting for the Hague, and assuring her that she might have +full confidence in his endeavours, seeing that in this, his wishes +jumped with her own. It showed the more devotion to his brother’s case, +that Mr. Erskine had left his young wife at Tinwald in a delicate +condition, and indeed she was brought to bed of her eldest son, while +her husband was still abroad. + + * * * * * + +Nothing now was to be done but to await results, and all our minds were +occupied by the question as to which should arrive first: Sir John in +London to claim his pardon, or the Commissioners at Alva to make their +investigations. + +In this matter I have always believed that Providence interfered in +our behalf, and my lady, I know, agreed with me, for as we learned +afterwards, when Dr. Brandshagen (how we hated the poor man’s name, +though no blame attached to him,) was at last ready to set out +for Scotland, having been delayed at London waiting for money and +instructions, at first it took him five days to find a ship that would +carry him and his effects to Leith, and when he sailed on the 20th of +September, he encountered such tempestuous weather, that he was three +weeks and two days on the way. Twice were they overtaken by storms, +in which they lost a mast each time, and thrice were they driven upon +sand-banks, so that it was not till the 15th of October that he arrived +in Edinburgh, where he had a conference with the Earl of Lauderdale, +John Haldane of Gleneagles, and a friend of the latter, Mr. Drummond. +But by that time, I am glad to say, it was too late for the mischief +they were meditating, as I shall show you in the next chapter. + +My lady wrote frequently to her husband during those trying weeks, +but most if not all of her letters miscarried, for the last remaining +one in the packet is a hasty fragment which I give you here. Short +as it is, it serves to show you the state of the poor lady’s mind at +this time, her one thought being the consent of Sir John to the terms +proposed, and her fear that it would not be given in time. + + +LETTER XIX + + Dr. Sr. + + Amond bids me tell you she had yours of the 25th of August, but + she regretes Ashton has not yet met with Sr. Harry S--g. He is yet + in quest of him, and she hops you will both accept of the proffers + that’s made, and soon let your friends know that you doe so. There + is people soon to be sent down in quest, and if it were possible you + could be here, it’s more in your power to manage with respect to the + Garden than any other mortall.... I shall writ all to Duncan and Key, + who will be more fit to advise you, for they seem not to be out of + hope of getting the pardon expected as soon as your answer comes. The + friends here say otherwise, and think H--y is gone to diswade you. + There must be no delay in the case as you regard your interest, but + be directed in the way and manner by Key and Duncan. God preserve and + direct you. + + Our friends in the Fleet, I have good reason to think, will be safe, + but those here seem to have bitter things before them.... I am sorry + you have not got all my letters, but Ashton’s is a great consolation + in the midst of different troubles. Your children are well. + + Dearest Creatur, let us have your answer soon, for these creatures + will be down in eight or ten days, and what I shall doe, God knows! I + am in great hast at present, but shall be more full next post. + + So Dear, Adieu. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +SHOWS SOMETHING OF THE TRIALS AND PERPLEXITIES OF OUR GOOD SIR JOHN +OVER THE BUSINESS + + +In the meantime Sir John himself had been passing through various +anxieties of his own, though I can only give you a very brief account +of his doings from the notes in my little diary, and the remembrance of +his own conversation. It was not till long afterwards that I realised +how much greater cause we should have had to tremble had we known more +of the brave knight’s movements during these months of summer. I have +told you how my lady’s heart was lightened by learning that he had +at last taken his departure from Avignon. No doubt, dear soul, she +regarded it as the tardy result of her wifely prayers and counsels. +But had she known of the packet he bore with him, which, if discovered +by the agents of King George, would have put an end to all hope of +pardon for ever, what terrors she would have suffered, what anguish of +anxiety she would have endured; and with good reason--for the King had +entrusted to Sir John a letter to the King of Sweden, begging for his +help in a new endeavour to recover his birthright. + +The news of the Forfeited Estates Bill, which had been passed, was +a great blow to Sir John, for the thought that others should suffer +through him was intolerable to his kind and honest heart, and he fully +agreed with my lady’s dictum, that anything she could save out of +the estate must go to the paying of private debts even to the last +sixpence. When the news of the treacherous discovery of his Mine +reached him, he was further distressed, realising all that it meant +for him. As Mr. Campbell, in writing of this, had warned him that it +might be necessary for some of his friends to go and consult with him +as to a method of procedure, he, after confiding his troubles to his +friend, the Earl of Mar, and receiving kind permission from the King, +decided to go to Hamburg where he should be within easy reach of the +Hague, and also in the way of meeting his brother, the doctor, who with +his master, the Czar, was expected shortly in these parts. + +He accordingly set out from Avignon about the middle of July, going +first to Brussels and then to Amsterdam, but upon finding there letters +from home of the greatest importance, he hurried to Lubeck, where, +after waiting some days, he was rejoiced to welcome his nephew, Sir +Harry Stirling, who laid before him my Lord Townshend’s proposals, +and explained the situation of things at home. Thinking that having +got such lenient conditions there was no great press in making up +his mind on the matter, Sir John, having written an account of it to +my Lord Mar, proceeded on his errand to Hamburg, where he found that +General Hamilton, with whom he was ordered to consult on the King’s +affairs, was not in that place, and indeed was at too great a distance +to communicate with him. He met instead the agent of the Swedish King, +Colonel Sparre, and accepting his offer to bring him to Sweden under +cover of his own passport, he went with him to Travemunde, only to find +it in possession of a small Russian garrison, which was nevertheless +strong enough to bar the way to suspected travellers, Russia and Sweden +being at enmity at that time. He was for some days weather-bound in +a small town on the Elbe about forty miles from Hamburg, which he +described as a “miserable nasty hole, where the inhabitants did nothing +but drink bad beer, smoke bad tobacco, and chatter in a tongue which +he could not understand.” Cut off from all letters, and chafing at +the delay, he fell into a fit of depression, he told us after, that +bordered on despair. But the weather clearing at last, he made his way +back to Hamburg, where he found a letter from my Lord Mar, bidding him +give up the notion of going to Sweden at this time. + +As he had learned from Colonel Sparre that though the King of Sweden +was favourable to King James, many of his statesmen were not, and that +according to Sparre’s opinion it was not a good time to approach him on +the subject, Sir John felt less regret in giving up the mission than +he otherwise might have done. He remained some days longer at Hamburg, +in hopes of hearing from Mar in reply to his letter about his private +business, and when it reached him he was pleased to find it contained +a very kind and gracious message from the King, to the effect that +his Majesty was glad to hear of the probability of Sir John’s success +in his own affairs, and said that now he could do nothing in what was +intrusted to him, that was to be his chief concern. These generous +words, as you will imagine, warmed the heart of Sir John, for he was +in a strait between two strong desires, namely: the furtherance of the +King’s success, and the welfare of his own family; or to put it in my +Lord Mar’s words, he was “in a nice situation ’twixt honour on the one +side and interest on the other.” + +He went on to say, “The world is malicious enough always to put the +worst construction on things, so a man who values his reputation ought +to think well in such a case, and do what he really thinks right.” + +It cost Sir John no little pain to give up, here and now, all thought +of helping in the Cause to which he was so much devoted; for he knew +very well that once returned to Scotland he would be carefully watched, +and only in covert and secret ways could his assistance again be given. +It was a trial also to his pride to think how he might be pointed at as +a turn-coat and a renegade, who took the King’s favours and rejoiced in +his confidence, only to throw him over and desert him in the end. To a +man of honour the situation was indeed extremely difficult, and when it +is remembered that Sir John had besides a warm and affectionate heart +towards the King, it is easy to imagine how he was torn in two, at the +thought of thus parting from his friends. + +However, his calmer judgment told him there was but one thing to be +done, and that the happiness of those depending on him must be his +first care. To make up in some degree for his desertion from active +service on the King’s behalf, he had written to his brother, the +doctor, hoping to enlist him in the Cause, and begging him to do his +utmost to gain the Czar’s help and interest in the same. Through Sir +Harry Stirling he received full confirmation of his hopes, for Dr. +Robin wrote that he and his master heartily wished King George at the +Devil, and the latter regretted that he was too far away to be able to +send him there. The Czar was also anxious and willing to assist Sir +John in his own affairs, if Mr. Campbell’s proposals were likely to +fail, a promise which accorded well with Sir John’s inclinations, for +he felt it would be easier to accept a ton of assistance from the Czar +of Russia, than one ounce of favour from the Elector of Hanover. + +He had by this time made his way, after being much delayed by storms, +to Amsterdam, which he reached on the 29th of September, and here, a +few days later, Mr. Erskine found him. Sir John’s delight at meeting +with his brother was much dashed by the latter’s assurance that his +departure for England, with scarce a day’s delay, was the only course +open to him if he wished to benefit by the efforts of his friends on +his behalf. It was in vain he pleaded his master’s needs, his own +desire to meet with Doctor Erskine, and the necessity of at least +waiting for returns to his letters from my Lord Mar. He had not heard +from Avignon now for five weeks, and he was at heart somewhat uneasy +as to the reason of the silence. The Earl might have some cause for +displeasure, thinking that after all Sir John should not prefer his own +advantage to the King’s, or his letters anent the business with the +Czar might have miscarried, and all his work would go for naught. + +To none of this would Mr. Erskine listen. He informed Sir John that +it would be now almost a race between himself and the Commissioners +who were on their way to Alva, if indeed not already there. Should +they reach the mine before Sir John had secured his pardon, they might +decide to put such conditions on the latter that it would never be +accepted. Mr. Erskine offered to stay for a time in Holland, and +as far as in him lay, to take his brother’s place. He would see or +correspond with Sir Harry and the doctor, and all communications +with Avignon might be carried on through him as if he were Sir John +himself. In another way he reminded him, he might really be benefiting +the King’s cause by his immediate departure. If he refused, after +receiving the offer of such easy terms, to return home at once, my +Lord Townshend might suspect that there was something stirring in the +King’s affairs to keep him on the Continent, and would cause his agents +to be more vigilant among them, which at the present juncture would +not be convenient. But if so trusted a friend of the Earl of Mar were +permitted to leave the party, it would seem to suggest that matters +were not in a good way, and their hopes of present success very low. + +In fact the “golden tongue” did its work, and so eloquently did it +speak that at length Sir John was convinced of his brother’s wisdom, +and agreed to all that he proposed. Immediately upon this he wrote two +letters to the Earl of Mar with full explanations of his plans and his +difficulties, his hopes and fears, but unfortunately these letters +were delayed in the transit, as the earl’s to himself had been, and +there followed some weeks of pain and distrust between the friends. +On the 8th of October, Sir John, “with a very heavy heart,” set sail +for England, and the news being carried to Avignon, without the true +explanation of his departure, the company there were plunged in wrath +and dismay, and even for a few days entertained doubts of their late +companion’s honesty. A letter from Mr. Erskine to my Lord Mar a little +later cleared up the mystery and restored tranquillity to their minds, +but the stories followed Sir John to England, and it grieved him not a +little to have suspicion thrown upon his loyalty, by those who should +have known him better. + +It was, to be sure, a surprising thing for friends and foes alike to +see Sir John Erskine, whom all supposed to be in exile, and in high +danger of being attainted, walking openly in the streets of London, in +company with this or that member of the Government. Courteous, genial +and debonnaire as ever, he did not look like a proscribed outlaw, still +less like a deserter turned spy, and many were the stories invented +and circulated before the real truth of the matter leaked out. When it +became known, I think there were few who did not rejoice and wonder, +for the story of the Silver Glen was like a fairy-tale, and I suppose +that Sir John was the only man in Britain who had been bribed to accept +his Remission from King George. + +The interview with my Lord Townshend was entirely satisfactory. No +oaths were exacted, no questions asked. The pardon was duly signed, +sealed, and delivered on the 22nd day of October, and on the 27th Sir +John set out post for Scotland, with relief in his heart, and “a broad +seal in his pocket.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +THE STORY ENDS IN PEACE AND SUNSHINE, AND I TAKE LEAVE OF MY KIND +READERS + + +I will leave you to imagine the joy and thankfulness at Alva when +the news of Sir John’s arrival at London reached us, for no words of +mine can express it; and when it was known that the pardon was an +accomplished fact, and that the good knight was on his way home, the +happy excitement rose to the highest pitch. + +What joy it was to see my lady’s altered mien, to hear the thrill in +her voice and watch the smiles trembling round her mouth! The little +boys were wild with delight at the prospect of seeing again their +much-loved father; and there was not a neighbour nor a tenant on the +place, who did not rejoice in the good news and sympathise with our +happiness. + +Mr. Patrick Campbell was to accompany Sir John on his journey from +London, and his wife came over from Monzie to meet them both. Old Lady +Alva was with us, and also Aunt Betty, while at my lady’s invitation my +Lord and Lady Wemyss arrived to join in the general welcome. How gay we +were, how busy with preparations, how full of thankfulness and relief! +Although the year was near November, it seemed to me as if we were +bidding good-bye to the darkness of winter and preparing to welcome the +summer; and Nature kindly did nothing to discourage me in the thought, +for the sun shone warm and bright, and though the trees were casting +their leaves they were not yet bare, and the gold and ruddy tints, +softened by silver mists and purple shadows, still made the landscape +lovely. Nothing was wanting to complete my satisfaction but the +presence of my lover, and once or twice, I must own, my heart cried out +in the midst of my happiness, “Would that he too were coming!” + +According to his agreement it was necessary for Sir John to stop in +Edinburgh for an interview with Dr. Brandshagen, whose letters of +instruction were that he should wait for the knight to show him his +mines himself. By someone’s good management, I suppose, there had been +a convenient delay in supplying the German with funds, so that he was +obliged to remain where he was till he received them; but Sir John, +having expressed his readiness with all courtesy to carry out his part +of the bargain at any moment, there was nothing now left for him to do +but to hasten homewards, whither his heart, I doubt not, had already +flown. + +He had been so thoughtful as to send an express to my lady from +Edinburgh to prepare her for his arrival, and the next afternoon we +were all assembled with beating hearts to listen for the farthest sound +of horse’s feet. + +“My papa will be here in plenty of time for my birthday,” cried little +Hal, as he ceased his jumping about the room and climbed into my lap. +“I am a luckier boy than Charles. Does Sir John know that I am grown so +big, Cousin Barbe?” + +I could scarce listen to the child’s chatter nor answer it, but when +Charles put his hand upon my shoulder, and whispered, “How I wish he +were bringing Captain Anthony!” I turned and kissed him on the cheek, +with a sudden pain in my heart. + +At last--at last we heard them coming--the galloping growing nearer +and nearer, the shouts of the country-folk assembled along the road +becoming louder and more distinct. + +“Hurrah! hurrah!” “Long life to Sir John!” “Glad to see ye hame again!” +“Welcome, welcome!” we could indeed distinguish the words for we +were now standing at the door, my lady with a son in each hand, her +mother-in-law beside her, we others pressing round, and the servants +just behind. The tears were running down the old lady’s cheeks, and +Aunt Betty was sobbing loudly, her kerchief to her eyes; but I looked +at my lady’s quiet face, and though it was pale, I was struck by the +lovely light that shone there. “Sure,” thought I, “no husband returning +home was ever greeted by a sweeter, truer wife!” + +And then the cavalcade swept into sight, and we caught our breath, and +a low sound that was neither laugh nor cry, but partook of both, broke +from the lips of all. + +Sir John rode first, his head bared in the sunshine, his face alight +with joy, and our eyes were fixed upon him. Almost before he reached +the door he checked his horse, and dismounting quickly, turned with +hands outstretched. It was as if he saw one face alone in all that +crowd, as if he cared for the welcome of but one voice. His mother +uttered his name in loving, trembling tones; his boys ran forward +gleefully to clasp his knees; but he did not speak nor heed them till, +without a word, my lady staggered to his arms and was clasped in a long +embrace. + +And then, I knew not why, the unbidden tears came to my eyes, and +turning away to hide them, I encountered a sudden shock. Was I +dreaming? Oh, what did it mean, and how had it happened? Or were my +eyes playing me false? I dashed the tears away and looked again. And +there close at my side, his face aglow with feeling, his eyes dim with +their mighty love, stood my dear Anthony, so tall and brave and strong +and full of joy, that, in spite of the publicity, I followed my lady’s +example and threw myself into his arms. + +I emerged from them to be greeted with sympathetic laughter and a +shower of questions. “Where did he come from?” “Did you know, Barbara; +were you expecting him?” “Why did you not tell us?” But dazed with my +surprise and happiness, I could only look from him to them and back +again. + +Sir John came to my rescue with a great kind laugh that did me good to +hear. + +“No, no, I can answer for it. Barbara knew nothing of this. But when I +met the young gentleman at York a night or two ago, and he confided to +me that he was on his way to my house, I very naturally asked him to +join my party and go along with us, thinking I should be none the less +welcome here for bringing him in my train.” + +You will know then that Barbara’s cup of happiness was full to the +brim, and when my dear lady said, out before them all, + +“It wanted only this to make the day perfect; none but myself know how +good, how brave and patient our Barbara has been. I think she is being +rewarded for all her unselfish love to me!” + +Well, when she spoke thus, my cup overflowed. + + * * * * * + +It was indeed a perfect day, an earnest of others as perfect to follow! +How strangely pleasant it was at dinner to see Sir John again in his +place, his hospitable smile showing us all what pleasure the meeting +gave him. How sweet to see my lady’s tremulous happiness, and the +almost wistful way she hung upon her husband’s words. Old Lady Alva +sat near him and Betty upon the other side; Mr. Campbell and his wife +were together, “for,” said he, “we have been so many weeks separate +that we are as good as lovers again.” My Anthony sat at my lady’s left +hand, (my Lord Wemyss being on her right), and Barbara by his side. The +little boys were admitted to the banquet to their vast delight, and +even poor Aunt Betty’s face was wreathed in smiles. It would indeed +have been difficult to find a happier party in all Scotland. + +When dessert was on the table and the servants gone, Sir John brought +out of his pocket the immediate cause of our peace and contentment. + +You have all seen it--the great document with the portrait of King +George in the left-hand corner, and the “broad seal” attached--the +Remission, or Pardon, without which we could never have welcomed Sir +John to his home, nor indeed enjoyed any real happiness. With what awe +and interest we gazed upon it, as we listened to Mr. Campbell’s story +of the wonderful part he had played in procuring it. Each point in +the narrative was fraught with thrilling meaning to us, who through +all those weary months had waited in uncertainty for this happy +consummation. How we smiled and sighed as we recalled our hopes and +fears, and thanked God in our hearts that all such anxiety was laid to +rest at last. + +When the conversation had again become general my Anthony turned to me, +and whispered, + +“I also bear in my pocket a document which means nearly as much to me +as that other to Sir John;” and under cover of the table he presently +slipped into my lap a letter addressed to me in an unknown hand. I +need scarcely tell you that I apprehended its purport as soon as I saw +it, and smiled my silent agreement. It was as I surmised, from Mr. +Fleming’s parents, welcoming me with warm approval as the future wife +of their dear son, and agreeing very kindly to leave all arrangements +for our marriage in the hands of my guardians, Sir John and Lady +Erskine. My Anthony’s pardon had been easy to arrange, his father +having many friends at court. But he was under oath never to take up +arms against King George as long as he lived, for which reason, he told +me, laughing, it was a mercy that most of his life would be passed away +from Britain, so that he was not likely to be tempted in that way again. + +I remember telling him how glad I was that my husband was to be a +civilian, making his living peacefully by the pen instead of the sword, +so that I should not be obliged to go in fear of my life every time +there was a war. How little did I then think that after thirty years he +should again become a soldier, and win for himself honour and a Title, +fighting in the service of the East India Company against Governor +Dupliex in the Carnatic. Still stranger would it have been to know that +his being wounded and disabled in these same wars should contribute +to my peace of mind, but so it was, for the misfortune put an end to +his soldiering, and brought us back to England, thus proving itself a +blessing in disguise. + + * * * * * + +And now, my dears, the story I set out to tell you is done. Like +all human histories it is a mingling of joy and sorrow, of laughter +and tears, and perhaps, looking at the hidden heart of things, the +tears predominate. But it were not wise to end a tale like this upon +a tragic note. God veils in mercy the future from our eyes, else were +it not possible properly to enjoy His many blessings; and so I am glad +to leave my dear Lady Erskine at this bright and peaceful season of +her life, to see her as I love best to remember her, standing in the +sunshine, the haunting fear gone from her eyes, and the sweet light of +loving welcome transfiguring her face. + + * * * * * + +For more than three months I have been living in the past, seeing the +friends of my girlhood, and listening to the tones of their voices. +At times I have raised my eyes from the paper before me, dazed and +bewildered to find myself alone--an old woman with my life behind me, +and so many of those dear ones gone. Now the Summer is over, the Autumn +days are drawing in; no longer does the mavis sing in the garden, and +as I write these lines, a moaning wind arises and whirls the leaves +across the darkening lawn. But far overhead in the pale sky the stars +are coming out; they speak to my heart of Heavenly Consolation, and as +I thank God that I am not left desolate, I hear my dear Sir Anthony’s +step outside upon the stair. + +And so, my dears, adieu. + + +THE END + + +W. JOLLY & SONS, PRINTERS, ABERDEEN + + + + +_POPULAR NOVELS BY MAY WYNNE_ + +Author of “Henry of Navarre,” “A Maid of Brittany,” &c. + +In Crown 8vo, Cloth gilt. Price 6s. each + + +A KING’S TRAGEDY + + BY + MAY WYNNE + Author of “Henry of Navarre,” &c. + +“Miss May Wynne has enhanced her reputation, already firmly established +by a splendidly-written romance, founded upon Scottish history relating +to the fifteenth century. The troublous times after the return of +James I. of Scotland to his throne from captivity in England are +interestingly dealt with. The local colouring is graphically given and +the internecine troubles between the Highland Clans, their modes of +warfare and the horribly vindictive spirit in which their raids and +forays were carried out are related in a manner which is faithfully +true to both history and tradition. The loves and adventures of Sir +Alan Kennedy and his brother David are made the medium through which +the interest of the reader is centred and retained through a most +charming book.” + + _Liverpool Daily Post._ + + +THE GOAL + + By the Author of “Henry of Navarre,” &c. + +_The STANDARD says--_ + +“‘The Goal’ with its pleasant studies of village friendships, its +sincere love of beautiful country sights and scenes, its delicate +portraiture and its characters will win many true and warm admirers.... +The scene between two children and the gossipy old maid is in its way +quite a triumph. Miss Wynne’s sketches of girls are done with great +charity, sweetness and charm.” + + + LONDON: + DIGBY, LONG & Co., 18, Bouverie St., Fleet St., E.C. + + + + +Transcriber’s Notes + +• Italics represented with _underscores_. + +• Small caps converted to ALL CAPS. + +• Illustrations relocated close to relevant content. + +• Obvious typographic errors silently corrected. No corrections made + to the quoted letters as the author seems to intend to represent the + letter writer’s original with errors intact. + +• Variations in hyphenation and spelling have been kept as in the original. + +• Footnote numbered and relocated next to relevant paragraph. + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76963 *** |