Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland Volume XII Part 13

"I betrayed my friend. He perished, not by my hands, but by my fault; and from that moment deep remorse has filled my bosom: but of that no more. A sense of justice induces me to act decisively. Reginald Grahame had a son."

Roderick rose from his seat, but made no reply.

"It is of him I would speak. Circ.u.mstances have induced me to believe that the leader of the caterans who pursued me so long--who harried my lands, and injured my crops--was that son. His feelings towards me must be deadly; but I forgive him. It is but natural that he should hate the destroyer of his father. Would that he knew the pangs I have suffered--the anguish I have felt!"

"And is this true? Was your remorse so great? Have you repented of this cruel act?"

"Deeply--deeply, my son; but what avails it?"

"Much; for contrition----" And he paused.

"Proceed."

"I mean to say, that a contrite heart is acceptable to Heaven."

"I hope it is--I believe it is. But, to proceed:--I have enough to make you and Annette comfortable; and it is my wish to return to my own estate, now redeemed from the burdens which once pressed heavily upon it. If young Grahame lives, as I suspect he does, I will surrender his father's lands. I ask not his forgiveness--that I expect not--but I request him to take back his own. Have I your consent?"

"Most cordially."

"Then all is right. I must see the gipsy chief. I will place myself in his hands."

"Nay, nay, think not of that. I will myself see him."

"No, no; if he slays me, he but extinguishes a light that soon must be quenched; but if he murder you, I am left desolate, and Annette miserable."

"Feel no alarm: he knows me not. As a stranger I will seek him; and, be a.s.sured, no harm will befall me."

After much resistance, the old man yielded; and Roderick left the tower that night. The only companion that accompanied the messenger of peace was the dog who had so strangely rescued Roderick from the maniacal attempt of the old nurse. This escort was accidental, and was not discovered until the traveller had crossed the lake in the boat, which his own hand rowed; when, to his great surprise, as he jumped ash.o.r.e, the animal, who had quietly slipped aboard, made his appearance.

"Poor fellow," said Roderick, patting him on the head, "what has brought you here? Your old limbs are more fitted for the fireside than for the devious path I must tread. I fear you will regret exchanging the comforts of the tower for the scanty food of the mountain glen."

The distance Roderick had to go was considerable; and, although a good walker, and accustomed to traverse districts as wild, if not wilder, he was unable to accomplish more than thirty miles of his journey; for, as the dog gave evident tokens of fatigue, and was unable to keep up with him, he slackened his pace, and proceeded with less rapidity. The night was dark, and the traveller had wandered considerably from the right path; he saw no traces of civilisation about him; he was apparently in the midst of a large and boundless moor.

"Well, it is not the first time that the heath has been my bed--probably it will not be the last; and, if it must be, I will roll myself up in my plaid, and sleep till dawn. O Oscar, you old fool! why did you not remain where you were? You have deprived me of at least ten miles of my journey, and a comfortable bed to boot."

At this moment the horizon was illumined by a flash of what is termed sheet-lightning, and Roderick observed what appeared to be a dwelling about a quarter-of-a-mile distant. The discovery was certainly far from displeasing; and although the place was much out of the way, Roderick naturally enough conjectured it to be some little snug dwelling, admirably adapted for the purpose of illicit distillation.

After the ordinary pleasure frequently enjoyed by those who wander in unknown paths through Highland districts, of plunging knee-deep in quagmires, and getting thoroughly drenched by the cooling mists from the mountains, Roderick, with some difficulty, arrived at the wished-for haven. It was a small and tolerable-looking bothy, containing, so far as the wanderer could ascertain, a b.u.t.t and ben. Peeping through a clink in the small orifice intended for a window, it was with no ordinary delight he beheld a capital peat-fire, burning with more than accustomed briskness. As the door was fastened, he "tirled at the pin," as the old ballads term it. A hoa.r.s.e, but evidently female, voice exclaimed--

"Wha's that, to disturb an honest woman at this time o' nicht?"

"A stranger, who has lost his way."

"Awa wi' ye; we've nae room for strangers in this kintry; gang your ways."

"But, my good woman, I really can do no such thing. Have you the conscience--can you think of sending me back to the bleak moor through which I have been pa.s.sing, when you have such a capital fire blazing away here? Come, now, have some compa.s.sion."

"Let him in, Christie," exclaimed another voice, proceeding evidently from one of a different gender; "perhaps he may come from Macpherson."

The mandate was obeyed; and Roderick found himself in presence of two men, dressed in military attire, and a middle-aged woman of somewhat repulsive aspect. The warlike individuals were making themselves comfortable over a bottle of mountain-dew; and the potency of the "fire-water," as the Indians term it, was pretty evident, from the flushed countenance and thick utterance of the drinkers.

"I am sorry to intrude on you, gentlemen," apologised Roderick; "but I lost my way on the neighbouring moor, and my good stars guided me to this habitation, where I hope----"

"No apologies--no apologies, sir. I have seen service, sir; I receive his majesty's pay; and know how to treat a gentleman as he ought to be treated, sir. Will you join us in a gla.s.s, sir?"

Roderick was by no means desirous of partaking of the offer thus so ostentatiously offered; but, as it was his wish to conciliate rather than offend, he pocketed his pride, and took his place at the deal board, which, placed on the top of an old whisky cask, served for a table.

"May I be bold enough, sir, to ask whom I have the honour of pledging?"

quoth the inviter, filling his gla.s.s. "My name, sir, is Serjeant Patullo--Serjeant Patullo, of his Majesty's fifth troop of cavalry."

With some hesitation, the name of Campbell was uttered by Roderick.

"Campbell, sir? good name--loyal subjects to his gracious Majesty. Mr.

Campbell, allow me to introduce Private Kincaid. Your health, Mr.

Campbell. Are you in the army, Mr. Campbell? Pardon me for the question, sir; but you have a fine military look."

"I am not presently employed, although, at one period, I saw a good deal of service; but pray, sir--question for question--may I ask to what accident I am to attribute the presence of two military gentlemen in this out-of-the-way place in the Highlands?

"You may well call it out of the way, sir; but a soldier's duty, sir, requires his presence where his country calls him, sir. I am sorry, sir, that I cannot divulge to so polite a gentleman (more especially, sir, as, with your leave, there is somewhat a scant of good breeding in this petticoat country) the cause of our presence here; but state secrets, sir, must not be divulged."

"Certainly," replied Roderick. "I cannot press you further. You will forgive me for pleading fatigue; but, with your leave, I must take a hurried nap, as I require to be early on my road to-morrow morning.

Good-night, gentlemen." So saying, he threw himself on a bed in a corner of the room, wrapping himself up in his plaid. The dog took his place beside him.

Roderick soon fell asleep. How long he slumbered he did not know; but he was awakened at last by a confused Babel of voices. Opening his eyes, he saw a third person present, and discovered a face which seemed familiar.

The discovery was anything but pleasant; and, he deemed it prudent to remain quiet, and to counterfeit that repose which he certainly was far from feeling.

The parties engaged in altercation had evidently been drinking deeply.

The serjeant had thrown by his precision, and was talking volubly.

"I'll tell you, ye Highland blackguard, the man's a gentleman, and you shall not disturb him."

"But," replied the stranger, "I'm no going to be a fule, if ye are ane, serjeant. If ony o' the band get an inkling o' what I'm about, ye'll never put saut on their tails."

"Nonsense," quoth Private Kincaid; "the man's asleep, and never dreaming of caterans, or the Glen of Benvorlich. I wish the Highland devils may be as sound as he is when we get there."

"Just let him be quiet, Macpherson," said the serjeant. "I wish I was as sure of fifty guineas as you are. Come, let's be jolly--fill your tumbler and don't s.h.i.+rk."

Roderick, who, on other occasions, would have scorned to have become an eavesdropper, was impelled by strong and urgent reasons to be a listener; and he easily gathered, from the broken and disjointed conversation of the parties, that Macpherson had been connected with the band of caterans of whom the t.i.tular Inshannock was the leader; that, from a quarrel, he had resolved to betray his companions; and induced by a government reward and promise of pardon, had made the bothy a trysting-place, from whence he was to be conducted to a village some few miles distant, where a detachment of the king's troops was stationed, from whence he was to guide them to the hiding-place of those who were sought.

By this time the small hours were gradually becoming larger, and daylight was beginning to creep through the crevices in the diminutive window. The revellers were thoroughly inebriated; and Macpherson, no longer awed by his commander-in-chief, again vowed his determination of rousing the object of his curiosity. The serjeant hiccupped a negative, to which no attention was paid; and Macpherson advanced, as steadily as the effect of his libations would permit, to the side of the bed were Roderick lay, apparently fast asleep. The man of curiosity tottered onward towards the bed; but fate had willed that he should be baffled; for Oscar, who had been watching his footsteps with jealous care, sprang upon him, as he put forth his hand to remove the plaid from the head of the supposed sleeper. The suddenness of the attack brought the intruder to the ground; and the fall entirely removed any glimmerings of reason which his previous inebriety had left him. There he lay all his length in a state of hopeless intoxication.

"Served him right," mutually exclaimed the serjeant and the private; "but what can you expect from a Mac?"

"The Macphersons, Macgregors, and all, are not much better than savages," added the serjeant; who, being a Lowlander, felt that contempt for the Highlanders so common amongst the more southern inhabitants of Scotland.

It is a curious fact--perhaps affording better evidence of the distinctiveness of the two races inhabiting North Britain than any other--that the dislike of the Lowlanders, especially among the lower orders, towards their brethren of the mountains, was extreme, both at the period when the events here related occurred, and long previously: even in these modern times, some portion of the leaven remains. This feeling Serjeant Patullo, a native of Dalkeith, shared with his compatriots.

Roderick rose from the bed not much refreshed, but infinitely delighted by the unexpected manner in which the attempt of Macpherson had been frustrated. Shaking hands with the two military personages, who were just able to keep their feet, and giving his repulsive hostess a gratuity for her night's lodgings, he proceeded on his journey, accompanied by his faithful companion.