 CHAPTER 1 The 25th day of August, 1751, about two in the afternoon, I, David Balfour, came forth of the British Linen Company, a porter attending me with a bag of money, and some of the chief of these merchants bowing me from their doors. Two days before, and even so late as yesterday morning, I was like a beggar man by the wayside, clad in rags, brought down to my last shillings, my companion a condemned traitor, a price set on my own head for a crime with the news of which the country rang. Today I was served heir to my position in life, a landed lared, a bank porter by me carrying my gold, recommendations in my pocket, and, in the words of the saying, the ball directly at my foot. There were two circumstances that served me as ballast for so much sale. The first was the very difficult and deadly business I had still to handle. The second, the place that I was in. The tall, black city, and the number, and movement, and noise of so many folk made a new world for me, after the moorland braze, the sea sands, and the still country sides that I had frequented up to then. The throng of the citizens, in particular, abashed me. Rancolor's son was short and small in girth. His clothes scarcely held on me, and it was plain I was ill-qualified to strut in the front of a bank porter. It was plain, if I did so, I should but set folk laughing, and, what was worse in my case, set them asking questions, so that I behooved to come by some clothes of my own, and, in the meanwhile, to walk by the porter's side and put my hand on his arm as though we were a pair of friends. At a merchant's in the Luckin booths I had myself fitted out, none too fine, for I had no idea to appear like a beggar on horseback, but comely and responsible, so that servants should respect me. Thence to an armorer's, where I got a plain sword, to suit with my degree in life. I felt safer with a weapon, though, for one so ignorant of defense, it might be called an added danger. The porter, who was naturally a man of sub-experience, judged my accruterment to be well-chosen. Nathan Conspeclet, said he, Bland at a con-class, far as for the rapier, Naid, Doth, it sits with their degree, but I had been new, I would have wear'd my cereal better to get's than that. And he proposed I should buy winter-hosen from a wife in a cow-gate bag that was a cousin of his own, and made them extraordinaire, adorable. But I had other matters on my hand more pressing. Here I was in this old black city, which was for all the world like a rapid warren, not only by the number of its indwellers, but the complication of its passages and holes. It was indeed a place where no stranger had a chance to find a friend, let be another stranger. Suppose him even to hit on the right close, people dwelt so throng'd in these tall houses, he might very well seek a day before he chanced on the right door. The ordinary course was to hire a lad they call a caddy, who was like a guide or pilot, led you where you had an occasion, and your errands being done, brought you again where you were lodging. But these caddies, always being employed in the same sort of services, and having it for obligation to be well informed of every house and person in the city, had grown to form a brotherhood of spies. And I knew from tales of Mr. Campbell's, how they communicated one with another, what a rage of curiosity they conceived as their employer's business, and how they were like eyes and fingers to the police. It would be a piece of little wisdom, the way I was now placed, to take such a ferret to my tails. I had three visits to make, all immediately needful, to my kinsman, Mr. Balfour, a pillar, to Stuart, the writer, that was Appen's agent, and to William Grant Esquire, a Preston Grange, Lord Advocate of Scotland. Mr. Balfour's was a non-committal visit, and besides Pilrig being in the country, I made a bold to find the way to it myself, with the help of my two legs and a scot's tongue. But the rest were in a different case. Not only was a visit to Appen's agent in the midst of the cry about the Appen murder dangerous in itself, but it was highly inconsistent with the other. I was like to have a bad enough time of it with my Lord Advocate Grant the best of ways, but to go to him hotfoot from Appen's agent was little likely to mend my own affairs, and it might prove the mere ruin of friend Allen's. The whole thing, besides, gave me a look of running with the hare, and hunting with the hounds, that was little too of my fancy. I determined therefore to be done at once with Mr. Stuart, and the whole Jacobitical side of my business, and to profit for that purpose by the guidance of the porter to my side. But a chance that I had scarce given him the address when there came a sprinkle of rain. Nothing to hurt only for my new clothes, and we took shelter under a pen at the head of a clothes or alley. Being strange to what I saw, I stepped a little farther in. The narrow paved way descended swiftly, prodigious tall houses sprang up on each side, and bulged out one story beyond the other as they rose. At the top only a ribbon of sky showed in. By what I could spy in the windows, and by the respectable persons that passed out and in, I saw the houses to be very well occupied, and the whole appearance of the place interested me like a tale. I was still gazing when there came a sudden brisk tramp of feet and time in a clash of steel behind me. Turning quickly, I was aware of a party of armed soldiers, and in their midst a tall man in a great coat. He walked with a stoop that was like a piece of courtesy, genteel, and insinuating. He waved his hands plausibly as he went, and his face was sly and handsome. I thought his eye took me in, but could not meet it. This procession went by to a door in the clothes, which a serving man in a fine livery set open, and two of the soldier lads carried the prisoner within, the rest lingering with their firelocks by the door. There can nothing pass in the streets of a city without some following of idle folk and children. It was so now, but the more part melted away in Continent until but three were left. One was a girl. She was dressed like a lady, and had a screen of the drum of the colors on her head. But her comrades, or I should say followers, were ragged gillies, such as I had seen the matches of by the dozen in my Highland journey. They all spoke together, earnestly in Gaelic, the sound of which was pleasant in my ears for the sake of Allen. And though the rain was by again, and my porter plucked me to be going, I even drew nearer where they were to listen. The lady scolded sharply, the others making apologies and cringing before her so that I made sure she was come of the chief's house. All the while the three of them sought in their pockets, and by what I could make out they had the matter of half a farthing among the party, which made me smile at little to see all Highland folk alike for fine abesances and empty spores. It chanced that the girl turned suddenly about, so that I saw her face for the first time. There is no greater wonder than the way the face of a young woman fits in a man's mind and stays there, and he can never tell you why, it just seems that it was the thing he wanted. She had wonderful bright eyes like stars, and I dare say the eyes had a part in it, but what I remember the most clearly was the way her lips were trifle open as she turned. And whatever was the cause, I stood there staring like a fool. On her side, as she had not known there was anyone so near, she looked at me a little longer, and perhaps with more surprise, than was entirely civil. It went through my country head that she might be wondering at my new clothes. With that I blushed to my hair, and at the side of my coloring it is to be supposed she drew her own conclusions, for she moved her gillies farther down the close, and they fell again to this dispute, for I could hear no more of it. I had often admired Elassi before then, if scarce so sudden and strong, and it was rather my disposition to withdraw than to come forward, for I was much in fear of mockery from the women-kind. You would have thought I had now all the more reason to pursue my common practice, since I had met this young lady in the city street, seemingly following a prisoner, and accompanied by two very ragged, indecent-like hymenmen. But there was here a different ingredient. It was plain the girl thought I had been prying in her secrets, and with my new clothes and sword, and at the top of my new fortunes, this was more than I could swallow. The beggar on horseback could not bear to be thrust down so low, or at least of it, not by this young lady. I followed accordingly and took off my new hat to her, the best that I was able. Madam, I said, I think it is only fair to myself to let you understand that I have no Gaelic. It is true I was listening, for I have friends of mine own across a Highland line, and the sound of that tongue comes friendly. But for your private affairs, if you had spoken Greek, I might have had more guess at them. She made me a little distant curtsy. They is no harm, then, she said, with a pretty accent, most like the English, but more agreeable. A catch may look at a king. I do not mean to offend, said I. I have no skill of city manners. I never before this day set foot inside the doors of Edinburgh. Take me for a country lad. It's what I am. And I would rather I told you than you found it out. Indeed, it will be a very unusual thing for strangers to be speaking to each other in the causeway, she replied. But if you are landward red, it will be different. I am as landward as yourself. I am Highland, as you see, and think myself the father from my home. It is not yet a week since I passed the line, said I. Less than a week ago I was on the braze of Balwither. Balwither, she cries, come ye from Balwither. The name of it makes all there is of me rejoice. You will not have been long there and not known some of our friends and family. I live to the very honest, kind man called Duncan Dew McLaren, I replied. Well, I know Duncan, and you give him the true name, she said. And if he is an honest man, his wife is honest indeed. I, said I, there are fine people, and the place is a bonny place, where in the great world is such another, she cries. I am loving the smell of that place and the roots that grow there. I was infantly taken with the spirit of the maid. I could be wishing I had brought you a spray of that heather, says I. And though I did ill to speak with you at the first, now it seems we have common acquaintance. I make it my petition, you will not forget me. David Balfour is the name I am known by. This is my lucky day, when I have just come into a landed estate, and am not very long out of a deadly peril. I wish you would keep my name in mind for the sake of Balwither, said I. And I will yours for the sake of my lucky day. My name is not spoken, she replied, with a great deal of haughtiness. More than a hundred years it has not gone upon men's tongue save for a blink. I am nameless, like the folk of peace. Katrina Drummond is the one I use. Now indeed I knew where I was standing. In all broad Scotland there was but one name proscribed, and that was the name of the McGregors. Yet so far from fleeing this undesirable acquaintance I plunged the deeper in. I have been sitting with one who was in the same case with yourself, said I. And I think he will be one of your friends. They called him Robin Oig. Did ye sell, cry she? Ye met Rob? I passed the night with him, said I. He is a fowl of the night, said she. There was a set of pipes there I went on. So you may judge if the time passed. You should be no enemy in all events, said she. That was his brother there a moment since, with the red soldiers round him. It is him that I call father. Is it so, cried I? Are you the daughter of James Mores? All the daughter that he has, said she. The daughter of a prisoner, that I should forget it so even for one hour to talk with strangers. Here one of the gullies addressed her in what he had of English, to know what she, meaning by that himself, was to do about the sheenan. I took some note of him for a short, bandy-legged, red-haired, big-headed man that I was to know more of to my cost. There could be none the day, Neil, she replied. How will ye get sheenson wanton-silla? I will teach you another time to be more careful. And I think James Mores will not be very well pleased with Neil of the Tom, Miss Drummond, I said. I told you I was in my lucky day. Here I am, and a bank-porter at my tail. And I remember I have had the hospitality of your own country, a ball-wither. It is not one of my people gave it, said she. Ah, well said I. But I am owing your uncle at least for some springs upon the pipes, besides which I have offered myself to be your friend. And you have been so forgetful that you did not refuse me in the proper time. If it had been a great sum, it might have done you honor, said she. But I will tell you what this is. James Mores lie shackled in prison. But this time pass they will be bringing him down here daily to the advocates. The advocates, I cried, is that it is the House of the Lord Advocate Grant of Peston Range, she said. There they bring my father one time and another for what purpose I have no thought in my mind. But it seems there is some hope dawned for him. All this same time they will not let me be seeing him, nor yet him right. And we wait upon the King Street to catch him. And now we give him his snuff as he goes by, and now something else. And here is his son of trouble, Neil, son of Duncan, has lost my four penny-piece that was to buy that snuff. And James Mores must go wanting, and will think this daughter has forgotten him. I took sixpence from my pocket, gave it to Neil, and bait him to go about his errand. Then to her, that sixpence came with me by Valhuthe, said I. Ah, she said, you are a friend of the Gagara. I would not like to deceive you, either, said I. I know very little about the Gagara, and less of James Mores' doings. But since the while I have been standing in this close, I seem to know something of yourself. And if you will just say, a friend to Miss Katrina, I will see you are the less cheated. One cannot be without the other, said she. I will even try, said I. And what will you be thinking of myself, she cried, to be holding my hand to the first stranger? I am thinking nothing but that you are a good daughter, said I. I must not be without repaying it, she said. Why is it you stop? To tell the truth, I am stopping nowhere yet, said I. Being not full three hours in the city, but if you will give me your direction, I will be so bold as come seeking my sixpence for myself. Well, that I can trust you for that, she asked. You need have little fear, said I. James Mores could not bear it else, said she. I stop beyond the village of Dean, on the north side of the water, with Mrs. Drummond Ogilvy of Allardice, who is my dear friend, and will be glad to thank you. You are to see me, then, so soon as what I have to do permits, said I, and the remembrance of Alan rolling in again upon my mind, I made haste to say farewell. I could not but think, even as I did so, that we had made extraordinary free upon short acquaintance, and that a really wise young lady would have shown herself more backward. I think it was the bank porter that put me from this un-gallant train of thought. I thought, either you be loud with some kind of sense, he began shooting out his lips. You are not likely to gain from far of the skates, a full and serous full part of it, eh, but you are a green gallant, he cried. And the busiest day, garrick and up your weeper jaws, if you dare to speak of the young lady, I began. Larry, he cried. How there is some savers. What a Larry. Connorth a Larry? O crown four of them. Larry's, Martin. It's where you see nor a Quinton and Embro, a clasp of anger took me. Here, I said, lead me where I told you, and keep your foul mouth shut. He did not wholly obey me, for though he no more addressed me directly, he very imprudence sang at me as he went in a manner of innuendo, and with an exceeding ill voice and ear. I smile a lick of down the three terracophages did flee. She crossed her look a hint at to the one who see her negligee. What a go on the east and west, what a go on the gee, what a go on the east and west, the court and molly-lee. End chapter one. Chapter two of Katrina by Robert Louis Stevenson. This Librivox recording is in the public domain. Read by Wayne Cook. Chapter two, The Highland Writer. Mr. Charles Stewart, the writer, dwelt at the top of the longest stair ever mason set a hand to. Fifteen flights of it, no less. And when I had come to his door, and a clerk had opened it, and told me his master was within, I had scarce breath enough to send to my porter-packing. Away east and west, we he, said I, took the money-bag out of his hands, and followed the clerk in. The outer room was in office with the clerk's chair at a table spread with law-papers. In the inner chamber, which opened from it, a little brisk man set pouring on a deed, from which he scarce-waste his eyes on my entrance. Indeed he still kept his finger in the place, as though prepared to show me out and fall again to his studies. This pleased me little enough. And what pleased me less, I thought the clerk was in a good posture to overhear what should pass between us. I asked if he was Mr. Charles Stewart, the writer. The same said he, and if the question is equally fair, who may you be yourself? You never heard hell of my name, nor of me either, said I. But I bring you a token from a friend that you know well. That you know well, I repeated, lowering my voice, but maybe are not just as keen to hear from at this present being. And the bits of business that I have to propone to you are rather in the nature of being confidential. In short, I would like to think we were quite private. He rose without more words, casting down his paper like a man ill-pleased, sent forth his clerk out of the near end, and shut to the house door behind him. Now, sir, he said, returning, speak out to your mind and fear nothing, though before you begin, he cries out, I tell you, mind misgives me, I tell you beforehand, you're either a Stewart or a Stewart sentie, a good name it is, and one it would ill-become my father's son too lightly. But I begin to grew at the sound of it. My name is called Balfour, said I, David Balfour of Shaw's. As for him that sent me, I will let his token speak. And I showed the silver button. Put it in your pocket, sir, Christy, you need name no names. The devil's bucky, I kin the button of him, and I ate it. Where is he now? I told him I knew not where Allen was, but he had some sure place, or thought he had, about the north side, where he was to lie until a ship was found for him, and how went where he had appointed to be spoken with. It's always been my opinion that I would hang in a tow for this family of mine, he cried, and doed, I believe the days come now. Get a ship for him, Quotee, and who's to pay for it? The man's daft. That is my part of the affair, Mr. Stewart, said I. Here is a bag of good money, and if more be wanted, more is to be had where it came from. I needn't ask her politics, said he. You need not, I said, smiling, for I am as big a wig as grows. Stop a bit, stop a bit, said Mr. Stewart. What's all this, a wig? Then why are you here with Allen's button? And what kind of a black foot traffic is this that I find you out in, Mr. Wig? Here is a forfeited rebel in an accused murderer with 200 pounds on his life, and he asked me to meddle in his business, and then you tell me you're a wig? I have no mind of any such wigs before, though I've kept plenty of them. He's a forfeited rebel. The more's the pity, said I, for the man's my friend. I can only wish he has been better guided, and an accused murderer that he is, too, for his misfortune, but wrongfully accused. I hear you say so, said Stewart. More than you are to hear me say so before long, said I. Allen Breck is innocent, and so is James. Oh, said he, the two cases hang together. If Allen is out, James can never be in. Hereupon I told him briefly of my acquaintance with Allen, of the accident that brought me present at the Alpen murder, and the various passages of our escape among the Heather and my recovery of my estate. So, sir, you have now the whole train of these events that went on, and can see for yourself how I come to be so much mingled up with the affairs of your family and friends, which, for all of our sakes, I wish had been planer and less bloody. You can see for yourself, too, that I have certain pieces of business depending which were scarcely fit to lay before a lawyer chosen at random. No more remains, but to ask if you will undertake my service. I have no great mind to it, but coming as you do with Allen's button, the choices scarcely left me, said he. What are your instructions?" he added, and took up his pen. The first point is to smuggle Allen forth of this country, said I, but I need not be repeating that. I am little likely to forget it, said Stuart. The next thing is the bit of money I am owing to Clooney, I went on. It would be ill for me to find a conveyance, but that should be no stick to you. It was two pounds five shillings, three hateney farthings, sterling, he noted it. Then, said I, there is a Mr. Henderland, a licensed preacher and missionary in Ardgor, that I would like well to get some snuff into the hands of, and as I daresay you keep touch with your friends and apen, so near by, it's a job you could doubtless overtake with the other. How much snuff are we to say, he said. I was thinking of two pounds, said I, two, said he. Then there's the last Allison Hasty, and lime kills, said I, her that helped Allen and me across the forth. I was thinking if I could get her a good sundy gown, such as she could wear with decency in her degree, it would be an ease to my conscience, for the mere truth is, we owe her our two lives. I'm glad to see you are thrifty, Mr. Valforce, as he is making his notes. I would think shame to be otherwise the first day of my fortune, said I, and now, if you will compute the outlay and your own proper charges, I would be glad to know if I could get some spending money back. It's not that I grudge the whole of it to get Allen safe, it's not that I lack more, but having drawn so much the one day, I think would have a very ill appearance if I was back again seeking. The next. Only be sure you have enough, I added, for I am very undesirous to meet with you again. Well, and I am pleased to see you are cautious too, said the writer, but I think you take a risk to lay so considerable a sum at my discretion. He said this with a plain sneer. I have to run the hazard, I replied. Oh, and there's another service I would ask, and that's to direct me to a lodging, for I have no roof to my head. But it must be a lodging I may seem to have hit upon by accident, for it would never do if the Lord Advocate were to get any jealousy of our acquaintance. He may set your weary spirit at rest, said he. I will never name your name, sir. And it's my belief the Advocate is still so much to be sympathized with that he denies kin of your existence. I saw I had got on the wrong side of the man. There's a broad day coming for him then, said I, for he'll have to learn of it on the deaf side of his head no later than tomorrow when I call on him. When ye call on him, repeated Mr. Stewart, am I daft, or are you? What takes ye nearer the Advocate? Oh, just to give myself up, said I. Mr. Balfour, he cried, are you making a mock of me? No, sir, said I, though I think you have allowed yourself some such freedom with myself. But I give you to understand once and for all that I am in no jesting spirit. Nor yet me, says Stewart, and I give yon to understand, if that's to be the word, that I like the looks of your behavior less and less. You come here to me with all sorts of propositions, which will put me in a train of very doubtful acts, and bring me among very undesirable persons this many a day to come. And then you tell me you're going straight out of my office to make your peace with the Advocate. Alan's button here or Alan's button there, the four quarters of Alan, when a bride me further in. I would take with a little more temper, said I, and perhaps we can avoid what you object to. I can see no way for it, but to give myself up. But perhaps you can see another, and if you could, I could never deny what I would be rather relieved. For I think my traffic with his lordship is little likely to agree with my health. There's just one thing clear that I have to give my evidence, for I hope it'll save Alan's character, what's left of it, and James's neck, which is the more immediate. He was silent for breathing space. And then my man said, he, you'll never be allowed to give such evidence. We'll have to see about that, said I. I'm stiff-necked when I like. Ye muck-a-lass, cried Stuart. It's James they want. James has got to hang, and Alan too if they could catch him. But James, whatever, go near the Advocate with any such business, and you'll see he'll find a way to muzzle ye. I think better of the Advocate than that, said I. The Advocate be damned, Christy. It's the Campbells, man. You have the whole clan gem-free of them on your back. And so will the Advocate too, poor body. It's extraordinary you cannot see where ye stand. If there's no fair way to stop your gab, there's a foul when gaping. They can put ye in the dock. Do ye know see that? He cried, and stabbed me with one finger in the leg. I, said I. And I was told that same no farther back than this morning by another lawyer. And who was he, asked Stuart. He spoke sense, at least. I told him I must be excused from naming him, for he was a decent stout old wig, and had little mind to be mixed up in such affairs. I think all the world seems to be mixed up in it, cried Stuart. But what said you? I told him what had passed between Rankinkealer and myself before the House of Shaw's. Well, and so ye will hang, said he. You'll hang beside James Stuart. There's your fortune told. I hope better of it yet than that, said I. But I could never deny there was a risk. Risk, says he, and then sat silent again. I ought to thank you for your staunchness to my friends, to whom you show a very good spirit, he said. If you have the strength to stand by it. But I warn you that you're waiting deep. I wouldn't put myself in your place. Me, that's a Stuart born, for all the Stuart's that ever there was since Noah. Risk, I take over many. But to be tried in court before a Campbell jury and a Campbell judge, and that in a Campbell county upon a Campbell quarrel, think what you like of me, Balfour. It's beyond me. It's a different way of thinking, I suppose, said I. I was brought up to this one by my father before me. Glory to his bones. He has left a decent son to his name, said he. Yet I would not have you judge me over sorely. My case is dooms hard. Cesar, you tell me you're a wig. I wonder what I am. No wig to be sure. I can be just that. But lay in your ear, man. I may be no very keen on the other side. Is that a fact, quite I? It's what I would think of a man of your intelligence. But none of your willy wassy cries. There is intelligence upon both sides. But for my private part I have no particular desire to harm King George. And as for King James, God bless him. He does very well for me across the water. I'm a lawyer, you see, fond of my books and my bottle, a good plea, a well-drawn deed, a crack in the Parliament House with other lawyer bodies, and perhaps a turn at golf on a Saturday at in. Where do you come in with your Highland plaids and claymores? Well, said I, it's a fact you have little of the wild Highlandmen. Little, Quothee, nothing, man. And yet I'm Highland-born. And when the clan pipes, who but me has to dance. The clan and the name, that goes by all. It's just what you said yourself. My father learned it to me and a bonny trade I have of it. Treason and traitors and the smuggling of them out and in. And the French recruiting, weary Follett. And the smuggling through the recruits, and their pleas, a sorrow of their pleas. Here have I been moving one for young Ard Sheil, my cousin. Claimed the estate under the marriage contract, a forfeited estate. I told them it was nonsense. Muckle, they cared. And there was I caulking behind a yad-fugit that liked the business as little as myself, for it was fair ruin to the pair of us. A black mark, disaffected, branded on our hurdies like folks' names upon their kai. And what can I do? I'm a steward, you see, and must fend for my clan and family. Then no later by than yesterday, there was one of our steward lads carried to the castle. What for? I can find. Act of 1736, recruiting for King Louis. And you'll see he'll whistle me in to be his lawyer. And there'll be another black mark on my character. I tell you fair, if I but kent the heed of the Hebrew word from the hurdies of it, be damned, but I would fling the whole thing up and turn minister. It's a rather hard position, said I. Dooms hard, criety. And that's what makes me think so much of ye, you that's no steward, to stick your head so deep in steward business. And for what, I do not know, unless it was the sense of duty. I hope it will be that, said I. Well, sissy, it's a grand quality. But here's my clerk back, and by your leave we'll pick a bit of dinner, all the three of us. When that's done, I'll give you the direction of a very decent man that'll be very feigned to have you for a lodger. And I'll fill your pockets to ye, for by a halt of your own bag. For this business will not be near, as dear as ye suppose, not even the ship part of it. I made him a sign that his clerk was within hearing. Hoot, you'd need a band robby, criety. A steward, too, poor devil. And I smuggled out more French recruits in trafficking papers than what he has hairs upon his face. Why, so Robin that manages that branch of my affairs. Who will we have now, Rob, for across the water? There'll be Andy Scroogle in the thristle, replied Rob. I saw Hossison the other day, but it seems he's wanting the ship. Then there'll be Tam Stubble, but I'm none so sure of Tam. I've seen him cloaking with some gig queer acquaintances. And if anybody was important, I would give Tam the goby. The heads were 200 pounds, Robin, said Stuart. Gosh, that'll no be Alan Black, cried the clerk. Just Alan, said his master. Where do you ends, that's serious, cried Robin. I'll try Andy then, and he'll be the best. It seems it's quite a big business, I observed. Mr. Balfour, there's no end to it, said Stuart. There was a name your clerk mentioned, I went on. Hossison, that must be my man, I think. Hossison of the Brigg Covenant. Would you set your trust on him? He didn't behave very well to you and Alan, said Mr. Stuart. But my mind of the man in general is rather otherwise. If he had taken Alan on board his ship on an agreement, it's my notion that he would have proved a just dealer. How say ye, Rob? No more on a skipper in the trade than Eli, said the clerk. I would looked into Eli's word. If it were the chivalier or apin himself, he'd added. And it was him that brought the doctor, wasn't it? Hossison, the master. He was the very man, said the clerk. And I think he took the doctor back, said Stuart. I, with his spore and foil, cried Robin, and Eli came to that. Well, it seems it's hard to ken folk rightly, said I. That was just what I forgot when ye came in, Mr. Balfour, says the writer. CHAPTER III The next morning I was no sooner awake in my new lodging than I was up and into my new clothes, and no sooner the breakfast swallowed than I was forth on my adventures. Everything I could hope was fended for. James was like to be a more difficult affair. And I could not but think that enterprise might cost me dear, even as everybody said to whom I had opened my opinion. It seemed I was come to the top of the mountain only to cast myself down. That I had clambered up through so many and hard trials to be rich, to be recognized, to wear city clothes and a sword to my side, all to commit mere suicide at the last end of it, and the worst kind of suicide besides, which is to get hanged at the king's charges. What was I doing it for, I asked, as I went down the high street and out north by a leaf wind. First I said it was to save James Stuart, and no doubt the memory of his distress and his wife's cries, and a word or so I had let drop on that occasion worked upon me strongly. At the same time I reflected that it was, or ought to be, the most indifferent matter to my father's son, whether James died in his bed or from a scaffold. He was Alan's cousin to be sure, but so far as regarded Alan, the best thing would be to lie low and let the king and his grace of Argyle and the Corby Crows pick the bones of his kinsmen their own way. Nor could I forget that, while we were all in the pot together, James had shown no such particular anxiety whether for Alan or me. Next it came upon me I was acting for the sake of justice, and I thought that a fine word, and reasoned it out that, since we dwelt in polities, at some discomfort to each one of us, the main thing of all must still be justice, and the death of any innocent man, a wound upon the whole community. Next again it was the accuser of the brethren that gave me a turn of his argument, bade me think shame for pretending myself concerned in these high matters, and told me I was but a preting vain child, who had spoken big words to Rancolor and to Stuart, and held myself bound upon my vanity to make good that boastfulness. Nay, and he hit me with the other end of the stick, for he accused me of a kind of artful cowardice, going about at the expense of a little risk to purchase greater safety. No doubt until I had declared and declared myself I might any day encounter Monko Campbell or the sheriff's officer and be recognized and dragged into the ape and murder by the heels. And no doubt in case I could manage my declaration with success I should breathe more free for ever after. But when I looked this argument full in the face, I could see nothing to be ashamed of, as for the rest. Here are the two roads, I thought, and both go to the same place. It's unjust that James should hang if I can save him, and it would be ridiculous in me to have talked so much and then do nothing. It's lucky for James of the Glens that I have boasted beforehand, and none so unlucky for myself, because now I am committed to do right. I have the name of a gentleman and the means of one. It would be a poor duty that I was wanting in the essence. Then I thought this was a pagan spirit, and said a prayer into myself, asking for what courage I might lack, and that I might go straight to my duty like a soldier to battle, and come off again scatheless, as so many do. This train of reasoning brought me to a more resolved complexion, though it was far from closing my sense of the dangers that surrounded me, nor of how very apt I was, if I went on to stumble on the ladder of the gallows. It was a plain fair morning, but the wind in the east, the little chill of it sang in my blood, and it gave me a feeling of the autumn, and the dead leaves and dead folks' bodies and their graves. It seemed the devil was in it, for if I was to die in that tide of my fortunes and for other folks' affairs. On the top of the Calton Hill, though it was not the customary time of year for that diversion, some children were crying and running with their kites. These toys appeared very plain against the sky. I remarked a great one soar on the wind to a high altitude, and then plump among the winds. And I thought to myself, at sight of it, there goes Davy. My way lay over motor-sill, and threw an end of a clockin' on the brace-side among fields. There was a whore of looms in it went from house to house, bees bummed in the gardens, the neighbors that I saw at the door steps talked in a strange tongue, and I found out later that this was Picardi, a village where the French weavers wrought for the linen company. Here I got a fresh direction for Pilrig, my destination, and a little beyond on the wayside came by a giblet, and two men hanged in chains. They were dipped in tar, as the manor is. The winds spanned them, and the chains clattered, and the birds hung around the uncanny, jumping jacks and cried. The sight coming on me suddenly, like an illustration of my fears, I could scarce be done with examining it and drinking in discomfort. And as I thus turned and turned about the giblet, what should I strike on but a weird old wife that sat behind a leg of it and nodded, and talked aloud to herself with becks and courtesies? Who are these two, mother? I asked and pointed to the corpses. A blessing on a precious face, she cried. Tragios, the man, just through my old joes, my henidier. What did they suffer for? I asked. Oh, just for the good cause, said she. After I spayed to them the way it would end, through a shield in Scots, no pickle-mare. And there was a straw-bonny cullens behind, binged for it. They took a fray away, and belang the troubrocton. I, I said to myself, and not to the daft limmer, and did they come to such a figure for so poor a business? This is to lose all indeed. Get rid of your love, henny, said she. Let me spare you wear it to ye. No mother, said I. I see far enough the way I am. It's an uncouth thing to see too far in front. I read it in your brain, she said. There is a bonny lassie that has bricked it. And there is a wee man in the bra-cote, and a bra-man in the part of the wig. And there is a shadow of the woody joe that relies bred across your path. Gears you're off, henny, and let all the mirren spare to ye, bonny. The two chance shots that seemed to point at Alan and the daughter of James Moore struck me hard, and I fled from the eldritch creature, casting her a bobby, which he continued to sit and play with under the moving shadows of the hanged. My way down the causeway of Leith Walk would have been more pleasant to me, but for this encounter, the old rampart ran among fields, the like of them I had never seen for artfulness of agriculture. I was pleased beside to be so far in the still countryside. But the shackles of the giblet cluttered in my head, and the mope and mose of the old witch, and the thought of the dead men, haggrowed in my spirits. To hang on a gallows, that seemed a hard case. And whether a man came to hang there for two shilling scots, or, as Mrs. Stewart had it, from the sense of duty, once he was tarred and shackled and hung up, the difference seemed small. There might David Valfor hang, and other lads pass on their errands and think light of him. And old daft limbers sit at a leg foot and spay their fortunes, and the clean gentry maids go by and look to the other side and hold a nose. I saw them plain, and they had gray eyes, and their screens upon their heads were of the drummond colors. I was thus in the poorest of spirits, though still pretty resolved, when I came in view of Pilgrig, a pleasant gabled house set by the walkside among some brave young woods. The lads' horse was standing saddled at the doors I came up, but himself was in the study, where he received me in the midst of learned works and musical instruments, for he was not only a deep philosopher, but much of a musician. He greeted me at first pretty well, and when he had read Rancolor's letter, placed himself obligingly at my disposal. And what is it, cousin David, said he, since it appears that we are cousins, what is this that I can do for you, a word to press and grange, doubtless that is easily given, but what should be the word? Mr. Valfor said I, if I were to tell you my whole story the way it fell out, it is my opinion, and it was Rancolor's before me, that you would be very little made up with it. I am sorry to hear this of you, Ginsmen, said he. I must not take that at your hands, Mr. Valfor, said I. I have nothing to my charge to make me sorry, or you for me, but just the common infirmities of mankind. The guilt of Adam's first sin, the want of original righteousness and the corruption of my whole nature. So much I must answer for, and I hope I have been taught where to look for help, said I. For I judged from the look of the man, he would think the better of me if I knew my questions. But in the way of worldly honor I have no great stumble to reproach myself with, and my difficulties have befallen me very much against my will and, by all that I can see, without my fault. My trouble is to have become dipped in a political complication which it has judged you would be blithe to avoid a knowledge of. Why, very well, Mr. David, he replied, I am pleased to see you are all that Randgeller represented, and for what you say of political complications, you do me no more than justice. It is my study to be beyond a suspicion, and indeed outside the field of it. The question is, says he, how if I am to know nothing of the matter, how can I very well assist you? Why, sir, said I, I propose you should write to his lordship that I am a young man of reasonable good family and of good means, both of which I believe to be the case. I have Randgeller's word for it, said Mr. Balfour, and I count to that a worn dice against all deadly. To which you might add, if you will take my word for it so much, that I am a good churchman loyal to King George and so brought up, I went on. Another witch will do you any harm, said Mr. Balfour. Then you might go on to say that I sought his lordship, and a matter of great moment connected with his majesty's service and the administration of justice, I suggested. As I am not to hear the matter, said the lair, I will not take upon myself to qualify its weight. Great moment therefore falls, and moment along with it, for the rest I might express myself much as you propose. And then, sir, said I, and rubbed my neck a little with my thumb. Then I would be very desirous if you could slip in a word that might perhaps tell for my protection. Protection, says he, for your protection? Here is a phrase that somewhat dabbens me. If the matter be so dangerous, I own I would be a little loath to move in it blindfold. I believe I could indicate in two words where the thing sticks, said I. Perhaps that would be the best, said he. Well, it's the appen murder, said I. He held up both his hands. Sir, sir, cried he. I thought by the expression of his face and voice that I had lost my helper. Let me explain, I began. I thank you kindly. I will hear no more of it, says he. I decline in total to hear more of it, for your namesake and ranklers, and perhaps a little for your own. I will do what I can to help you. But I will hear no more upon the facts. And it is my first clear duty to warn you these are deep waters, Mr. David, and you are a young man. Be cautious and think twice. It is to be supposed that I will have thought oftener than that, Mr. Balfour, said I. And I will direct your attention again to Rankler's letter, where, I hope and believe, he has registered his approval of that which I design. Well, well, said he, and then again, well, well, I will do what I can do for you. There he took a pen and paper, sat a while in thought, and began to write with much consideration. I understand that Rankler approved of what you have in mind, he asked presently. After some discussion, sir, he bade me to go forward in God's name, said I. That is the name to go in, said Mr. Balfour, and resumed his writing. Presently he signed, reread what he had written, and addressed me again. Now here, Mr. David, he said, as a letter of introduction which I will seal without closing, and give into your hands open as the form requires. But since I am acting in the dark, I will just read it to you so that you may see if it will secure your end. Pilrich, August 26th, 1751. My lord, this is to bring to your notice my namesake and cousin David Balfour Esquire of Chas, a young gentleman of a blemish descent and good estate. He has enjoyed, besides the most valuable advantages of a godly training, and his political principles are all that your lordship can desire. I am not in Mr. Balfour's confidence, but I understand him to have a matter to declare, touching his majesty's service and administration of justice, purposes for which your lordship's zeal is known. Should add that the young gentleman's intention is known to, and approved by some of his friends, who will watch with hopeful anxiety the event of his success or failure. Whereupon, continued Mr. Balfour, I have subscribed myself with the usual compliments. You observe I have said some of your friends. I hope you can justify my plural. Perfectly, sir, my purpose is known and approved by more than one, said I. And your letter, which I take a pleasure to thank you for, is all that I could have hoped. It was all I could squeeze out, said he, and from what I know of the matter you designed to meddle in, I can only pray God that it may prove sufficient. My kinsman kept me to a meal, for the honor of the roof, he said, and I believe I made the better speed on my return. I had no thought but to be done with the next stage, and have myself fully committed. To a person's circumstance as I was, the appearance of closing a door on hesitation and temptation was itself extremely tempting. And I was the more disappointed when I came to Preston Grange's house to be informed he was abroad. I believe it was true at the moment, and for some hours after. And then I have no doubt that the advocate came home again and enjoyed himself in a neighboring chamber among friends, while perhaps the very fact of my arrival was forgotten. I would have gone away a dozen times, only for this strong drawing to have done with my declaration out of hand, and be able to lay me down to sleep with a free conscience. At first I read, for the little cabinet where I was left contained a variety of books. But I fear I'd read with little profit, and the weather falling kellowdy and the dusk coming up earlier than usual. My cabinet being lighted with but a loophole of a window, I was at last obliged to desist from this diversion such as it was, and to pass the rest of my time of waiting in a very burdensome vacuity. The sound of people talking in a near chamber, the pleasant note of a harpsichord, and once the voice of a lady singing, bore me a kind of company. I do not know the hour, but the darkness was long come when the door of the cabinet opened, and I was aware by the light behind him of a tall figure of a man upon the threshold. I rose at once. "'Is anybody there?' he asked. "'Who is that?' "'I am bearer of a letter from the Laird of Pilrig to the Lord Advocate,' said I. "'Have you been here long?' he asked. "'I would not like to hazard an estimate of how many hours,' said I. "'It is the first I hear of it,' he replied with a chuckle. "'The lads must have forgotten about you. But you are in the bit at last, for I am Preston Grange.' So saying he passed before me into the next room, whether upon his sign I followed him, and where he lit a candle and took his place before a business-table. It was a long room of a good proportion, wholly lined with books. That smart spark of light in a corner struck out the man's handsome person and strong face. He was flushed, his eyes watered and sparkled, and before he sat down I observed him to sway back and forth. No doubt he had been supping liberally, but his mind and tongue were under full control. "'Well, sir, sit ye down,' he said, and let us see Pilrich's letter.' He glanced it through in the beginning carelessly, looking up and bowing when he came to my name. But at the last words I thought I observed his attention to redouble, and I made sure he read them twice. All this while you are to suppose my heart was beating, for I had now crossed my Rubicon, and was come fairly on the field of battle. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Balfour,' he said, when he had done. "'Let me offer you a glass of claret.' "'Under your favor, my lord, I think it would scarce be fair on me,' said I. I have come here, as the letter will have mentioned, on a business of some gravity to myself, and as I am little used with wine, I might be the sooner affected.' "'You shall be the judge,' said he, but if you will permit, I believe I will even have the bottle in myself.' He touched a bell, and a footman came, as had a signal, bringing wine and glasses. "'You are sure you will not join me?' asked the advocate. "'Well, here is to our better acquaintance.' "'In what way can I serve you?' "'I should perhaps begin by telling you, my lord, that I am here at your own pressing invitation,' said I. "'You have the advantage of me somewhere,' said he, for I profess I think I never heard of you before this evening.' "'Right, my lord, the name is indeed new to you,' said I. And yet you have been for some time extremely wishful of making my acquaintance, and have declared the same in public.' "'I wish you would afford me a clue,' says he. I am no Daniel.' "'It too will perhaps serve for such,' said I, that if I was in adjusting humor, which is far from the case, I believe I might lay a claim on your lordship for two hundred pounds.' "'In what sense?' he inquired. "'In the sense of rewards offered for my person,' said I. He thrust away his glass once and for all, and sat straight up in the chair where he had been previously lolling. "'What am I to understand?' said he. "'A tall, strong lad of about eighteen,' I quoted, speaks like a lowlander, and has no beard. "'I recognize those words,' said he, which, if you have come here with any ill-judged intention of amusing yourself, are like to prove extremely prejudicial to your safety. "'My purpose in this,' I replied, is just entirely as serious as a life and death. "'And you have understood me perfectly. I am the boy who was speaking with Glynneur when he was shot. "'I can only suppose, seeing you here, that you claim to be innocent,' said he. "'The inference is clearer,' I said. "'I am a very loyal subject to King George, but if I had anything to reproach myself with, I would have had more discretion than to walk into your den.' "'I am glad of that,' said he. "'This horrid crime, Mr. Balfour, is of a die which cannot permit any clemency. "'Blood has been barbariously shed. It has been shed in direct opposition to His Majesty and our old flame of laws, by those who are in their known and public appugnance. "'I take a very high sense of this. I will not deny that I consider the crime as directly personal to His Majesty.' "'And, unfortunately, my Lord,' I added, a little dryly, "'directly personal to another great personage, who may be nameless. "'If you mean anything by those words, I must tell you I consider them unfit for a good subject. And were they spoke publicly, I should make it my business to take note of them,' said he. "'You do not appear to me to recognize the gravity of your situation, or you would be more careful not to pejorate the same by words which glance upon the purity of justice. Justice in this country, and in my poor hands, is no respecter of persons.' "'You give me too great a share in my own speech, my Lord,' said I. "'I did but repeat the common talk of the country, which I have heard everywhere and for men of all opinions as I came along. "'When you are come to more discretion, you will understand such talk is not to be listened to. How much less repeated,' says the Advocate. "'But I acquit you of an ill intention, that noblemen whom we all honor, and who has indeed been wounded in a near place by the late barbarity, sits too high to be reached by these dispersions. The Duke of Argyle, you see, that I deal plainly with you, takes it to heart as I do, and as we are both bound to do by our judicial functions and the service of his Majesty. And I could wish that all hands, in this ill age, were equally clean of family rankware. But from the accident that this is a Campbell who has fallen martyred to his duty as who else but the Campbells have ever put themselves foremost on that path, I may say it who am no Campbell, and that the chief of that great house happens for all our advantages, to be the present head of the College of Justice. Small minds and disaffected tongues are set agog in every change house in the country, and I find a young gentleman like Mr. Balfour so ill-advised as to make himself their echo. So much he spoke with a very oratorical delivery, as if in court, and then declined again upon the manner of a gentleman. All this apart, said he, and now remains that I should learn what I am to do with you. I had thought it was rather that I should learn the same from your lordship, said I. I, true, says the Advocate, but you see, you come to me well recommended. There is a good, honest wig named to this letter, says he, picking it up a moment from the table. And extra judiciously, Mr. Balfour, there is always the possibility of some arrangement. I tell you, and I tell you beforehand, that you may be the more upon your guard. Your fate lies with me singly. In such a matter, be it said with reverence, I am more powerful than the king's majesty. And should you please me, and of course satisfy my conscience, in what remains to be held of our interview, I tell you it may remain between ourselves. Meaning how, I asked. Why, I mean it thus, Mr. Balfour, said he, that if you give satisfaction, no soul need know so much as that you visited my house, and you may observe that I do not even call my clerk. I saw what way he was driving. I suppose it is needless any one should be informed upon my visit, said I, though the precise nature of my gains by that I cannot see. I am not at all ashamed of coming here. And have no cause to be, he said increasingly, nor yet, if you are careful, to fear the consequences. My lord, said I, speaking under your correction, I am not very easy to be frightened. And I am sure I do not seek to frighten you, says he. But to the interrogation, and let me warn you to volunteer nothing beyond the questions I shall ask you. It may consist very immediately with your safety. I have a great discretion, it is true, but there are bounds to it. I shall try to follow your lordship's advice, said I. He spread a sheet of paper on the table and wrote a heading. It appears you are present, by the way, in the wood of Lettermore at the moment of the fatal shot, he began. Was this by accident? By accident, said I. How came you in speech with Colin Campbell? he asked. I was acquiring my way of him to Achan, I replied. I observed he did not write this answer down. True, said he, I had forgotten that. And do you know, Mr. Balfour, I would dwell if I were you, as little as might be on your relations with these stewards. It might be found to complicate our business. I am not yet inclined to regard these matters as essential. I had thought, my lord, that all points of fact were equally material in such a case, said I. You forget that we are now trying these stewards, he replied, with great significance. If we should ever come to be trying you, it will be very different. And I shall press these very questions that I am now willing to glide upon. But to resume, I have it here in Mr. Mungo Campbell's precognition that you ran immediately up the bray. How came that? Not immediately, my lord, and the cause was my seeing of the murderer. You saw him then, as plain as I see your lordship, though not so near hand. Do you know him? I should know him again. In your pursuit you were not so fortunate then as to overtake him. I was not. Was he alone? He was alone. There was no one else in that neighborhood? Alan Breck Stewart was not far off, in a piece of a wood. The advocate laid his pen down. I think we are playing at cross purposes, said he, which you will find to prove a very ill amusement for yourself. I content myself with following your lordship's advice and answering what I am asked, said I. Be so wise as to be think yourself in time, said he. I use you with the most anxious tenderness which you scare seem to appreciate, and which, unless you be more careful, may prove to be in vain. I do appreciate your tenderness, but conceive it to be mistaken. I replied with something of a falter, for I saw we were coming to grips at last. I am here to lay before you certain information by which I shall convince you Alan had no hand whatever in the killing of Gleinir. The advocate appeared for a moment to be at a stick, sitting with pursed lips and blinking his eyes upon me like an angry cat. Mr. Balfour, he said at last. I tell you pointedly, you go an ill way for your own interests. My lord, said I, I am as free of the charge of considering my own interests in this matter as your lordship. As God judges me, I have but the one design, and that is to see just as executed and the innocent go clear. If in pursuit of that I come to fall under your lordship's displeasure, I must bear it as I may. At this he rose from his chair, lit a second candle, and for a while gazed upon me steadily. I was surprised to see a great change of gravity falling upon his face, and it could have almost thought he was a little pale. You are either very simple or extremely the reverse, and I see that I must deal with you more confidentially, says he. This is a political case. Ah, yes, Mr. Balfour, whether we like it or no, the case is political. And I tremble when I think what issues may depend from it. To a political case, I need, scarce tell, young man of your education. We approach with very different thoughts from one which is criminal only. Solace populized supreme elects is a maxim susceptible of great abuse, but it has that force which we find elsewhere only in the laws of nature. I mean it has the force of necessity. I will open this out to you, if you will allow me, at more length. You would have me believe, under your pardon, my lord, I would have you to believe nothing but that which I can prove, said I. Tad, tad, young gentleman, says he, be not so pragmatical, and suffer a man who might be your father, if it was nothing more, to employ his own imperfect language and express his own poor thoughts, even when they have the misfortune not to coincide with Mr. Balfour's. You would have me to believe Breck innocent. I would think this of little account, the more so as we cannot catch our man. But the matter of Breck's innocent shoots beyond itself. Once admitted it would destroy the whole presumptions of our case against another, and a very different criminal. A man grown old and treason, already twice in arms against his king, and already twice forgiven. A fomentor of discontent, and whoever may have fired the shot, the unmistakable original of the deed in question. I need not tell you that I mean James Stewart. And I can just say plainly that the innocence of Allen and of James is what I am here to declare in private to your lordship, and what I am prepared to establish at the trial by my testimony, said I. To which I can only answer by an equal plainness, Mr. Balfour, said he, that in that case your testimony will not be called by me, and I desire you to withhold it altogether. You are at the head of justice in this country, I cried. And you propose to me a crime? I am a man nursing with both hands the interests of this country, he replied. And I press on you a political necessity. Patriotism is not always moral in the formal sense. You might be glad of it, I think. It is your own protection. The facts are heavy against you. And if I am still trying to accept you from a very dangerous place, it is in part, of course, because I am not insensible to your honesty in coming here, in part because of Pilrig's letter, but in part, and in chief part, because in regard in this matter my political duty first, and my judicial duty only second. For the same reason I repeat it to you in the same frank words, I do not want your testimony. I desire not to be thought to make a repartee, when I express only the plain sense of our position, said I. But if your lordship has no need of my testimony, I believe the other side would be extremely blithe to get it. President Granger rose and began to pace to and fro in the room. You are not so young, said he. But what you must remember very clearly the year of 45, and the shock that went about the country. I read in Pilrig's letter that you are sound in Kirk and State, who saved them in that fatal year. I do not refer to his royal highness and his ramrods, which were extremely useful in their day. But the country had been saved and the field won before ever Cumberland came upon Dumosi. Who saved it? I repeat, who saved the Protestant religion and the whole frame of our civil institutions? The late Lord President Culloden for one. He played a man's part in small thanks he got for it. Even as I, whom you see before you, straining every nerve in the same service, I look for no reward beyond the conscience of my duties done. After the President, who else? You know the answer as well as I do. It is partly a scandal, and you glanced at it yourself, and I reproved you for it when you first came in. It was the duke and the great clan of Campbell. Now here is a Campbell foully murdered, and that in the King's service. The duke and I are Highlanders. But we are Highlanders civilized, and it is not so with the great mass of our clans and families. They have still savaged virtues and defects. They are still barbarians, like these stewards. Only the Campbells were barbarians on the right side, and the stewards were barbarians on the wrong. Now be you the judge. The Campbells expect vengeance. If they do not get it, if this man James escape, there will be trouble with the Campbells. That means disturbance in the Highlands, which are uneasy and very far from being disarmed. The disarming is a farce. I can bear you out in that, said I. Disturbance in the Highland makes the hour of our old watchful enemy. Pursued his lordship, holding out a finger as he paced, and I give you my word, we may have a 45 again with the Campbells on the other side. To protect the life of this man, Stuart, which is four foot already on half a dozen different counts, if not on this, do you propose to plunge your country into war, to jeopardize the faith of your fathers, and to expose the lives and fortunes of how many thousand innocent persons? These are considerations that weigh with me, and that I hope will weigh no less with yourself, Mr. Belfour, as a lover of your country, good government, and religious truth. You deal with me very frankly, and I thank you for it, said I. I will try on my side to be no less honest. I believe your policy to be sound. I believe these deep duties may lie upon your lordship. I believe you may have laid them on your conscience when you took the oath of the high office which you hold. But for me, who am just a plain man, or scarce a man yet, the plain duties must suffice. I can think but of two things, of a poor soul in immediate and unjust danger of a shameful death, and of the cries and tears of his wife that still tingle in my head. I cannot see beyond, my lord. It's the way that I am made. If the country has to fall, it has to fall. And I pray God, if this be willful blindness, that he may enlighten me before too late. He had earned me motionless, and stood so while longer. This is an unexpected obstacle, says he, allowed but to himself. And how was your lordship to dispose of me, I asked. If I wished, said he, you know that you might sleep in jail. My lord, said I, I have slept in worse places. Well, my boy, said he, there is one thing appears very plainly from our interview, that I may rely on your pledged word. Give me your honor, that you will be wholly secret, not only on what has passed tonight, but on the matter of the appen case, and I let you go free. I will give it till tomorrow, or any other near day that you may please to set, said I. I would not be thought too wily, but if I gave the promise without qualification, your lordship would have attained his end. I had no thought to entrap you, said he. I am sure of that, said I. Let me see, he continued, tomorrow is the Sabbath. Come to me on Monday by eight in the morning, and give me your promise until then. Freely given, my lord, said I, and with regard to what has fallen from yourself, I will give it for an long as it shall please God to spare your days. You will observe, he said next, that I have made no employment of menaces. It was like your lordship's nobility, said I, yet I am not altogether sold dull, but what I can perceive the nature of those you have not uttered. Well, said he, good night to you, may you sleep well, for I think it is more than I am like to do. With that he sighed, took up a candle, and gave me his conveyance as far as the street door. End of Chapter 4 The next day, Sabbath, August 27th, I had the occasion I had long looked forward to, to hear some of the famous Edinburgh Preachers, all well known to me already by the report of Mr. Campbell. Alas, and I might just as well have been in Essendon, and sitting under Mr. Campbell's worthy self, the turmoil of my thoughts which dwelt continually on the interview with Preston Grange, inhibiting me from all attention. I was indeed much less impressed by the reasoning of the divines, than by the spectacle of the thronged congregation in the churches, like what I imagined of a theatre or, in my then disposition, of an azees of trial. Above all at the West Kirk, with its three tears of galleries, where I went in the vain hope that I might see Miss Drummond. On the Monday I betook me for the first time to a barbers, and was very well pleased with the result, thanks to the advocates, where the red coats of the soldiers showed again about his door, making a bright place in the clothes. I looked about for the young lady and her gillies. There was never a sign of them. But I was no sooner shown into the cabinet or anti-chamber, where it spent so very full of time upon the Saturday, that I was aware of the tall figure of James Moore in a corner. He seemed to pray to a painful uneasiness, reaching forth his feet and hands, and his eyes speeding here and there without rest about the walls of the small chamber, which recalled to me with a sense of pity the man's wretched situation. I suppose it was partly this, and partly my strong continuing interest in his daughter, that moved me to accost him. Give you a good morning, sir, said I. And good morning to you, sir, said he. You buy trist with Preston Grange, I asked. I do, sir, and I pray your business with that gentleman will be more agreeable than mine, was his reply. I hope at least the jurors will be brief, for I suppose you pass before me, said I. All passed before me, he said with a shrug and a gesture upward of the open hands. It was not always so, sir, but times change. It was not so when the sword was in the scale, young gentleman, and the virtues of the soldier might sustain themselves. There came a kind of highland snuffle out of the man that raised my dander strangely. Well, Mr. McGregor, said I, I understand the main thing for a soldier is to be silent, and the first of his virtues never to complain. You have my name, I perceive. He bowed it to me with his arms crossed. Though it's one I must not use myself. Well, there is publicity. I have shown my face and told my name too often in the beards of my enemies. I must not wonder if both should be known to many that I know not. That you know not in the least, sir, said I, nor yet anybody else. But the name I am called, if you care to hear it, is Balfour. It is a good name, he replied civilly. There are many decent folk that use it. And now that I call to mind, there was a young gentleman, your namesake, that marched surgeon in the year forty-five with my battalion. I believe that would be a brother to Balfour of Bath, said I, for I was ready for the surgeon now. The same sir, said James Moore, and since I have been fellow soldier with your kinsmen, you must suffer me to grasp your hand. He shook hands with me long and tenderly, beaming on me the while as though he had found a brother. Ah, said he, these are changed days since your cousin and I heard the ball's whistle in our lugs. I think he was a very far away cousin, said I, dryly, and I ought to tell you that I never clapped eyes upon the man. Well, well, said he, it makes no change. And you, I do not think you were out yourself, sir. I have no clear mind of your face, which is what not probable to be forgotten. In the year you referred to, Mr. McGregor, I was getting scalped in the parish school, said I. So young, Chrissy, ah, then you will never be able to think what this meeting is to me. In the hour of my adversity and here in the house of my enemy, to meet in with the blood of an old brother-in-arms, it heartens me, Mr. Balfour, like the skirling of the Highland Pipes. Sir, this is a sad look back that many of us have to make. Some with falling tears. I have lived in my own country like a king. My sword, my mountains, and the faith of my friends and kinsmen sufficed for me. Now I lie in a stinking dungeon. And do you know, Mr. Balfour, he went on taking my arm and beginning to lead me about. Do you know, sir, that I lacked mere necessaries? The malice of my folks has quite sequestered my resources. I lie as you know, sir, on a trumped-up charge of which I am as innocent as yourself. They dare not to bring me to my trial. And in the meanwhile I am held naked in my prison. I could have wished it was your cousin I had met, or his brother Bath himself. Either would, I know, have been rejoiced to help me, while a comparative stranger like yourself. I would be ashamed to set down all he poured out to me in this biggerly vein, or the very short and grudging answers that I made to him. There were times when I was tempted to stop his mouth with some small change. But whether it was from shame or pride, whether it was for my own sake or Katrina's, whether it was because I thought him no fit father for his daughter, or because I resented that grossness of immediate falsity that clung about the Bath himself. The thing was clean beyond me. And I was still being weedled and preached to, and still being marched to and fro, three steps into turn, in that small chamber, and had already, by some very short replies, highly incensed, although not finally discouraged, my beggar, when Preston Grange appeared in the doorway and bade me eagerly into his big chamber. I have a moment's engagement, said he, and that you may not sit empty-handed. I am going to present you to my three bra daughters, of whom perhaps you may have heard, for I think they are more famous than Papa. This way. He led me into another long room above, where a dry old lady sat at a frame of embroidery, and the three handsomest young women, I suppose, in Scotland, stood together by a window. This is my new friend, Mr. Balfour, said he, presenting me by the arm. David, here is my sister, Miss Grant, who is so good as to keep my house for me, and will be very pleased if she can help you. And here, he said, turning to the three young ladies, here are my three bra daughters. A fair question to ye, Mr. Davy, which of the three is the best favoured? And I wager he will never have the impudence to propound honest Alan Ramsay's answer. Hereupon all three, and the old Miss Grant as well, cried out against this sally, which, as I was acquainted with the verses he referred to, brought shame into my own check. It seemed to me a citation unpardonable in a father, and I was amazed that these ladies could laugh even while they reproved, or made believe to. Under cover of this mirth, Preston Grange got forth of the chamber, and I was left like a fish upon dry land in that very unsuitable society. I could never deny, and looking back upon what followed, that I was eminently stockish, and I must say the ladies were well drilled to have so long a patience with me. The aunt indeed sat close at her embroidery, only looking now and again and smiling. But the Misses, and especially the eldest, who was besides the most handsome, paid me a score of attentions which I was very ill able to repay. It was all in vain to tell myself I was a young fellow of some worth as well as a good estate, and had no call to feel abashed before these lasses. The eldest not so much older than myself, and no one of them by any probability half as learned. Reasoning would not change the fact, and there were times when the color came to my face to think I was shaved that day for the first time. The talk going, with all their endeavours, very heavily. The eldest took pity on my awkwardness, sat down to her instrument, of which she was a past mistress, and entertained me for a while with playing and singing, both in the Scots and in the Italian manners. This put me more to my ease, and, being reminded of Alan's air that he had taught me in the whole near keridan, I made so bold as to whistle a bar or two, and asked if she knew that. She shook her head. I've never heard a note of it, said she. What's it at all through? And now once again she added after I had done so. Then she picked it out upon the keyboard, and, to my surprise, instantly enriched the same with well-sounding chords, and sang as she played with a very droll expression, and broad accent. You see, she says, I can do the poetry too, only it won't rhyme. And then again. I told her how much astonished I was by her genius. And what you call the name of it, she asked. I do not know the real name, said I. I just call it Alan's air. She looked at me directly in the face. I shall call it David's air, said she. Though if it's the least like what your namesake of Israel played to Saul, I would never wonder that the king got little good by it, for it's but melancholy music. Your other name I do not like. So if you was ever wishing to hear your tune again, you ought to ask for it by mine. This was said with the significance that gave my heart a jog. Why that, Miss Grant, I asked. Why, said she, if you should ever come to get hanged, I will search your last dying speech and confession to that tune and sing it. This put it beyond a doubt that she was partly informed of my story and peril. How, or just how much, it was more difficult to guess. It was plain she knew there was something of danger in the name of Alan, and thus warned me to leave it out of reference, and plain she knew that I stood under some criminal suspicion. I judged besides that the harshness of her last speech, which, besides that she had followed up immediately with a very noisy piece of music, was to put an end to the present conversation. I stood beside her, affecting to listen and admire, but truly whirled away by my own thoughts. I have always found this young lady to be a lover of the mysterious, and certainly this first interview made a mystery that was beyond my plummet. One thing I learned long after, the hours of the Sunday had been well employed, the bank porter had been found and examined, my visit to Charles Stewart was discovered, and the deduction made that I was pretty deep with James and Alan, and most likely in a continued correspondence with the last. Hence this broad hint that was given me across the harpsichord. In the midst of the piece of music, one of the younger missus, who was at a window over the clothes, cried on her sisters to come quick, for there was grey eyes again. The whole family trooped there at once, and crowded one another for a look. The window, whether they ran, was in an odd corner of that room, gave above the entrance door, and flanked up the close. Come, Mr. Balfour, they cried, come and see, she is the most beautiful creature, she hangs round the close-head these last days, always with some wretched-like guillies, and yet seems quite a lady. I had no need to look, neither did I look twice or long. I was afraid she might have seen me there, looking down upon her from that chamber of music, and she without, and her father in the same house, perhaps begging for his life with tears, and myself come but newly, from rejecting his petitions. But even that glance set me in a better conceit of myself, and much less awe of the young ladies. They were beautiful, that was beyond question, but Katrina was beautiful too, and had a kind of brightness in her, like a coal of fire. As much as the others cast me down, she lifted me up. I remembered I had talked easily with her, if I could make no hand of it with these fine maids, it was perhaps something their own fault. My embarrassment began to be a little mingled and lightened with a sense of fun, and when the yant smiled at me from her embroidery, and the three daughters unbent to me like a baby, all with papa's orders written on their faces, there were times when I could have found it in my heart to smile myself. Presently papa returned, the same kind, happy-like, pleasant-spoken man. Now girls, said he, I must take Mr. Balfour away again, but I hope you have been able to persuade him to return where I shall be always gratified to find him. So they each made me a little farthing compliment, and I was led away. If this visit to the family had been meant to soften my resistance, it was the worst of failures. I was no such ass but what I understood how poor a figure I had made, and that the girls would be yawning their jaws off as soon as my stiff back was turned. I felt I had shown how little I had in me of what was soft and graceful, and I longed for a chance to prove that I had something of the other stuff, the stern and dangerous. Well, I was to be served to my desire, for the scene to which he was conducting me was of a different character. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Umquil the Master of Lovett There was a man waiting us in Preston Granger's study who might distaste it at the first look as we distaste a ferret or an earwig. He was bitterly ugly, but seemed very much of a gentleman, had still manners but capable of sudden leaps and violences, and a small voice which could wring out shrill and dangerous when he so desired. The Advocate presented us in a familiar, friendly way. Here, Frazier, said he, here is Mr. Balfour whom we talked about. Mr. David, this is Mr. Simon Frazier, whom we used to call by another title, but that is an old song. Mr. Frazier has an errand to you. With that he stepped aside to his bookshelves, and made belief to consult a quartet of volume in the far end. I was thus left, in a sense, alone with perhaps the last person in the world I had expected. There was no doubt upon the terms of introduction. This could be no other than the forfeited Master of Lovett, and Chief of the Great Clan Frazier. I knew he had led his men in the rebellion. I knew his father's head, my old lords, that gray fox of the mountains, to have fallen on the block for that offense, the lands of the family to have been seized, and their nobility tainted. I could not conceive what he should be doing in Grant's house. I could not conceive that he had been called to the bar, had eaten all his principles, and was now currying favor with the government, even to the extent of acting Advocate Deputy in the Appen murder. Well, Mr. Balfour, said he, what is all this I hear of thee? It would not become me to prejudge, said I. But if the Advocate was your authority, he is fully possessed of my opinions. I may tell you I am engaged in the Appen case, he went on. I am to appear under Preston Grange, and from my study of the precognitions I could assure you your opinions are erroneous. The guilt of Breck is manifest, and your testimony, in which you admit you saw him on the hill at the very moment, will certify his hanging. It will be rather ill to hang him till you catch him, I observed, and for other matters I very willingly leave you to your own impressions. The Duke has been informed, he went on. I have just come from his grace, and he expressed himself before me with an honest freedom like the great nobleman he is. He spoke of you by name, Mr. Balfour, and declared his gratitude beforehand, in case you would be led by those who understand your own interests and those of the country so much better than yourself. Gratitude is no empty expression in that mouth. Experto credit. I daresay you know something of my name and clan, and the damnable example and lamented end of my late father to say nothing of my own errata. Well, I have made my peace with that good Duke. He has intervened for me with our friend Preston Grange, and here I am with my foot in the stirrup again, and some of the responsibility shared into my hand of prosecuting King George's enemies and avenging the late daring and bare-faced insult to his majesty. Doubtless of proud position for your father's son, says I. He wagged his bald eye browsed at me. You are pleased to make experiments in the ironical, I think, said he, but I am here upon duty. I am here to discharge my errand in good faith. It is in vain, you think, to divert me. And let me tell you, for a young fellow of spirit and ambition like yourself, a good shove in the beginning will do more than ten years' drudgery. The shove is now with your command. Choose what you will to be advanced in. The Duke will watch upon you with the affectionate disposition of a father. I am thinking that I lack the docility of the son, says I. And do you really suppose, sir, that the whole policy of this country is to be suffered, to trip up and tumble down for ill-mannered cult of a boy? He cried. This has been made a test case. All who would prosper in the future must put a shoulder to the wheel. Look at me. Do you suppose it is for my pleasure that I put myself in the highly individualist position, a persecuting a man that I have drawn the sword alongside of? The choice is not left me. But I think, sir, that you forfeited your choice when you mixed in with that unnatural rebellion, I remarked. My case is happily otherwise. I am a true man, and can look either the Duke or King George in the face without concern. Is it so the wind sits, says he. I protest you are fallen in the worst sort of error. Preston Grange has been hitherto so civil, he tells me, as not to combat your allegations. But you must not think they are not looked upon with strong suspicion. You say you are innocent. My dear sir, the facts declare you guilty. I was waiting for you there, said I. The evidence of Mungle Campbell, your flight after the completion of the murder, your long course of secrecy. My good young man, said Mr. Simon. Here is enough evidence to hang a bullock. Let be a David Balfour. I shall be upon that trial. My voice shall be raised. I shall then speak much otherwise from what I do today, and far less to your gratification. Little as you like it now. Ah, you look white, Chrissy. I have found the key of your impudent heart. You look pale. Your eyes waver, Mr. David. You see the grave and the gallows nearer by than you had fancied. I own to a natural weakness, said I. I think no shame for that. Shame, I was going on. Shame waits for you on the givet, he broke in. Where I shall but be evened with my lord, your father, said I. Ah-ha, but not so, he cried. And you do not yet see the bottom of this business. My fathers suffered in a great cause and for dealing in the affairs of kings. You are to hang for a dirty murder about bootle-pieces. Your personal part in it, the treacherous one of holding the poor wretch in talk. Your accomplices, a pack of ragged highland of gillies. And it can be shown, my great Mr. Balfour. It can be shown, and it will be shown. Trust me, that has a finger in the pie. It can be shown, and shall be shown. That you were paid to do it. I think I can see the looks go round the court when I adduce my evidence. And it shall appear that you, a young man of education, let yourself be corrupted to this shocking act. For a suit of cast clothes, a bottle of highland spirits, and three in phypans apenie in copper money. There was a touch of truth in these words that knocked me like a blow. Clothes, a bottle of huskabah, and three in phypans apenie in change. Made up, indeed, the most of what Allen and I had carried from a churn. And I saw that some of James's people had been babbling in their dungeons. You see, I know more than you fancied, he resumed in triumph. And as forgiving at this turn, great Mr. David, you must not suppose the Government of Great Britain in Ireland will ever be stuck for want of evidence. We have men here in prison who will swear out their lives as we direct them, as I direct if you prefer the phrase. So, now you are to guess your part of glory if you choose to die. On the one hand, life, wine, women, and a duke to be your handgun. On the other, a rope to your crag, and a giblet to clatter your bones on, and the lousiest, lowest story to hand down to your namesakes in the future that was ever told about a hired assassin. And see here, he cried with a formidable shrill voice, see this paper that I pull out of my pocket. Look at the name there. It is the name of the great David, I believe, the ink scarce rye yet. Can you guess its nature? It is the warrant for your arrest, which I have but to touch this bell beside me to have executed on the spot. Once in the toll booth upon this paper, may God help you, for the die is cast. I must never deny that I was greatly horrified by so much baseness, and much unmanned by the immediacy and ugliness of my danger. Mr. Simon had already gloried in the changes of my hue, and I make no doubt I was now no rudder than my shirt. My speech, besides, trembled. There is a gentleman in this room, cried I. I appeal to him. I put my life and credit in his hands. Pressing grain shut his book with a snap. I told you so, Simon, said he. You have played your hand for all it was worth, and you have lost. Mr. David, he went on. I wish you to believe it was by no choice of mine that you were subjected to this proof. I wish you could understand how glad I am you should come forth from it with so much credit. You may not quite see how, but it is a little of a service to myself. For had our friend here been more successful than I was last night, it might have appeared that he was a better judge of men than I. It might have appeared we were altogether in the wrong situations, Mr. Simon and myself. And I know our friend Simon, to be ambitious, says he, striking lightly on Fraser's shoulder. As for this stage play, it is over. My sentiments are very much engaged in your behalf, and whatever issue we can find to this unfortunate affair, I shall make it my business to see it is adopted with tenderness to you. These were very good words, and I could see besides that there was little love, and perhaps a spice of genuine ill will between these two who were opposed to me. For all that it was unmistakable this interview had been designed, perhaps rehearsed, with a consent of both. It was plain my adversaries were in earnest to try me by all methods, and now persuasion, flattery, and menaces having been tried in vain, I could not but wonder what would be their next expedient. My eyes besides me were still troubled, and my knees loose under me with the distress of the late ordeal, and I could do no more than stammer the same form of words. I put my life and credit in your hands. Well, well, said he, we must try to save them, and in the meanwhile let us return to gentler methods. He must not bear any grudge upon my friend, Mr. Simon, who did but speak by his brief. And even if you did conceive some malice against myself, who stood by and seemed rather to hold a candle, I must not let that extend to innocent members of my family. These are greatly engaged to see more of you, and I cannot consent to have my young womenfolk disappointed. Tomorrow they will be going to Hope Park, or I think it very proper you should make your bow. Call for me first, when I may possibly have something for your private hearing. Then you shall be turned abroad again under the conduct of my misses, and until that time repeat to me your promise of secrecy. I had done better to have instantly refused, but in truth I was beside the power of reasoning, did as I was bid, took my leave I know not how, and when I was forth again in the close, and the door had shut behind me, was glad to lean on a house wall, and wipe my face. That horrid apparition, as I may call it, of Mr. Simon rang in my memory, as a sudden noise rings after it is over in the ear. Tales of a man's father, of his falseness, of his manifold perpetual treacheries, rose before me from all that I had heard and read, and joined on with what I had just experienced of himself. Each time it occurred to me, the ingenious foulness of that column he had proposed to nail upon my character startled me afresh. The case of the man upon the giblet by Leith Walk appeared scarce distinguishable from that I was now to consider as my own. To rob a child of so little more than nothing was certainly a paltry enterprise for two grown men, but my own tale, as it was to be represented in court by Simon Frazier, appeared a fair second in every possible point of view of sourdness and cowardice. The voices of two of Preston Grange's livery men upon his doorstep recalled me to myself. I said the one. This building to Frazier can link to the captain. Is that for the carton back again? asked the other. It would seem, say, returned the first, hear him and Simon are seeking him. I think Preston Grange is going to get it, said the second. Here I have James modern battle-thames next. Where does neither Orufer nor mine? said the first. And they parted, the one upon his errand, and the other back into the house. This looked as ill as possible. I was scarce gone, and they were sending already for James more, to whom I thought Mr. Simon must have pointed when he spoke of men in prison and ready to redeem their lives by all extremities. My scalp curdled among my hair, and the next moment the blood leaped in me to remember Katrina. Poor lass, her father stood to be hanged for pretty indefensible misconduct. What was yet more unpalatable, it now seemed he was prepared to save his four quarters by the worst of shame and the most foul of cowardly murders, murder by the false oath. And to complete our misfortunes, it seemed myself was picked out to be the victim. I began to walk swiftly and at random, conscious only of a desire for movement, error, and the open country.