 CHAPTER XVII The last word of the blessing was scarce out of the minister's mouth before steward had me by the arm. We were the first to be fourth of the church, and he made such an extraordinary expedition that we were safe within the four walls of a house before the street had begun to be thronged with a homegoing congregation. Am I yet in time? I asked. I, and no, said he. The case is over. The jewellery is enclosed, and will so kind as let us keen their view of it to-morrow in the morning. The same as I could have told it to my own self three days ago before the play began. The thing has been public from the start. The panel can it? Ye may do what ye will for me, whisper see, two days ago. Ye can kin my fate by what the Duke of Argyle has just said to Mr. Macintosh. Oh, it's been a scandal. The great Argyle he gave before he got to the cannons and guns to roar. And the very master cried, Kachan, but now that I have got you again I'll never despair. The oak shall go over the myrtle yet. We'll ding the cambridge yet in their own town. Praise God that I should see the day. He was leaping with excitement, emptied out his mails upon the floor that I might have a change of clothes, and uncommoded me with his assistants as I changed. What remained to be done, or how I was to do it, was what he never told me, nor I believe so much as thought of. We'll ding the cambridge yet. That was still his overcome. And it was forced home upon my mind how this, that had the externals of a sober process of law, was, in its essence, a clan battle between savage clans. I thought my friend the writer none of the least savage, who, that had only seen him at a council's back before the Lord Ordinary, or following a golf ball and laying down his clubs on Brunsfield links, could have recognized for the same person this voluble and violent clansman. James Stewart's council were four in number. Sheriff's Brown, of Colston and Miller, Mr. McIntosh, and Mr. Stewart Younger of Stewart Hall. These were covenant to dine with the writer after Sermon, and I was very obligingly included of the party. No sooner the cloth lifted and the first bowl very artfully compounded by Sheriff Miller that we fell to the subject in hand. I made a short narration of my seizure and captivity, and was then examined and reexamined upon the circumstances of the murder. It will be remembered this was the first time I had my say out, or the matter at all handled among lawyers, and the consequence was very dispiriting to the others, and, I must own, disappointing to myself. To sum up, said Colston, you have proved that Alan was on this spot, you have heard him proffer menaces against Glenure, and though you assure us he was not the man who fired, you leave a strong impression that he was in league with him and consenting perhaps immediately assisting in the act. You show him besides at the risk of his own liberty actively furthering the criminal's escape, and the rest of your testimony, so far as the least material, depends on the bare word of Alan or of James the two accused. In short, you do not at all break but only lengthen by one personage the chain that vines our client to the murderer, and I need scarcely say that the introduction of a third accomplice rather aggravates that appearance of a conspiracy which has been our stumbling block from the beginning. I am of the same opinion, said Sheriff Miller. I think we may all be very much obliged to Preston Grange for taking a most uncomfortable witness out of our way, and chiefly I think Mr. Balfour himself might be obliged. For you talk of a third accomplice, but Mr. Balfour, in my view, has very much the appearance of a fourth. Allow me, sirs, interposed steward the writer, there is another view. Here we have a witness, never-fash-weather material or not, a witness in this cause, kidnapped by that old, lawless bandit crew of the Glengale McGregors, and sequestered for near upon a month in a burrock of old ruins on the bass. Move that and see what dirt you fling on the proceedings. Sir, this is a tale to make the world ring with. It would be strange, with such a grip as this, if we couldn't squeeze out a pardon for my client. And suppose we took up Mr. Balfour's cause tomorrow, said Steward Hall. I am much deceived, or should we find so many impediments, throw it in our path, as the James should have been hanged before we had found a court to hear us. This is a great scandal. But I suppose we have none of us to forget a greater still. I mean the matter of the Lady Grange. The woman was still endurance. My friend, Mr. Hope Rancolor, did what was humanly possible. And how did he speed? He never got a warrant. Well, it'll be the same now. The same weapons will be used. This is a scene, gentlemen, of clan animosity. The hatred of the name which I have the honor to bear rages and high quarters. There is nothing here to be viewed, but naked Campbell spite and scurvy Campbell intrigue. You may be sure this was to touch a welcome topic. And I sat for some time in the midst of my learned counsel, almost dieved with their talk, but extremely little the wiser for earth's poop-port. The writer was led to some hot expressions, calls them must take him up and set him right. The rest joined in on different sides, but all pretty noisy. The Duke of Argyle was beaten like a blanket. King George came in for a few digs in the by-going and a great deal of rather liberate defence. And there was only one person that seemed to be forgotten. And that was James of the Glen. Through all this Mr. Miller sat quiet. He was a slip of an oldish gentleman, ruddy and twinkling. He spoke in a smooth, rich voice with an infinite effect of pockiness, dealing out each word the way an actor does, to give the most expression possible. And even now, when he was silent and sat there with his wig laid aside, his glass in both hands, his mouth funnily pursed, and his chin out, he seemed the mere picture of a merry slainess. It was plain he had word to say and waited for the fit occasion. It came presently. Colston had wound up one of his speeches with some expression of their duty to their client. His brother's sheriff was pleased, I suppose, with the transition. He took the table in his confidence with a gesture and a look. That suggests to me a consideration which seems overlooked, said he. The interest of our client goes certainly before all, but the world does not come to an end with James Stewart. For, at he cocked his eye, I might condescend, ex-Blaire Graeatia, upon a Mr. George Brown, a Mr. Thomas Miller, and a Mr. David Balfour. Mr. David Balfour has a very good ground of complaint, and I think, gentlemen, if his story was properly read out, I think there would be a number of wigs on the green. The whole table turned to him with a common movement. Properly handled and carefully read it out. His is a story that could scarcely fail to have some consequence, he continued. The whole administration of justice, from its highest officer downward, would be totally discredited, and it looks to me as if they would need to be replaced. He seemed to shine with cunning, as he said it, and I need not point out to ye that this of Mr. Balfour's would be a remarkable bondy cause to appear in, he added. Well, there they all were started on another hair. Mr. Balfour's cause, and what kind of speeches could be there delivered, and what officials could be thus turned out, and who would succeed in their positions? I shall give but two specimens. It was proposed to approach Simon Frazier, whose testimony, if it could be obtained, would prove certainly fatal to Argyle and to Preston Grange. Miller highly approved of the attempt. We have here before us a dripping roast, said he. Here is cut and come again for all. And me thought all licked their lips. The other was already near the end. Stuart the writer was out of the body with delight, smelling vengeance of his enemy, the Duke. Gentlemen, cried he, charging his glass. Here is to Sheriff Miller. His legal abilities are known to all. His culinary, this bowl in front of us, is here to speak for. But when it comes to the political, cried he and drained the glass. Aye, but it will hardly prove politics in your meaning, my friend, said the gratified Miller. A revolution, if you like, and I think I can promise you that historical writers shall date from Mr. Balfour's cause. But properly guided, Mr. Stuart tenderly guided, it shall prove a peaceful revolution. And if the damned camels get their ears rubbed, what care I, Stuart, smiting down his fist? It will be thought that I was not very well pleased with all this, though I could scarce forebear smiling and a kind of innocency in these old intrigues. But it was not my view to have undergone so many staros for the advancement of Sheriff Miller, or to make a revolution in the Parliament House, and I interposed accordingly with as much simplicity of manner as I could assume. I have to thank you, gentlemen, for your advice, said I, and now I would like, by your leave, to set you two or three questions. There is one thing that has fallen rather on one side. For instance, will this cause do any good for a friend, James of the Glens? They seemed all a hair set back, and gave various answers, but concurring practically in one point that James now had no hope, but in the King's mercy. To proceed then, said I, will it do any good to Scotland? We have a saying that it is an ill bird that fouls its own nest. I remember hearing we had a riot in Edinburgh when I was an infant child, which gave occasion to the late Queen to call this country barbarious. And I always understood that we had rather lost than gained by that. Then came the year 45, which made Scotland to be talked of everywhere. But I never heard it said that we had any way gained by the 45. And now we come to this cause of Mr. Balfour's, as you call it. Sheriff Miller tells his historical writers are to date from it. And I would not wonder. It is only my fear that they would date from it as a period of calamity and public reproach. The nimble witted Miller had already smelt where I was traveling to and made haste to get on the same road. Forcibly put, Mr. Balfour says he, a weighty observe, sir. We have next to ask ourselves if it will be good for King George, I pursued. Sheriff Miller appears pretty easy upon this. But I doubt you will scarce be able to pull down the house from under him without his majesty coming by a knock or two, one of which might easily prove fatal. I gave them a chance to answer, but none volunteered. Of those for whom the case was to be profitable, I went on. Sheriff Miller gave us the names of several, among the which he was good enough to mention mine. I hope he will pardon me if I think otherwise. I believe I hung not the least back in this affair while there was life to be saved. But I own, I thought myself extremely hazarded. And I own I think it would be a pity for a young man with some idea of coming to the bar, to ingrain himself the character of a turbulent, factious fellow before he was yet twenty. As for James, it seems, at this date of the proceedings when the sentences as good as pronounced, he has no hope but in the king's mercy. May not his majesty, then, be pointedly addressed? The characters of these high officers sheltered from the public, and myself kept out of a position which I think spells ruin for me. They all sat and gazed into their glasses. And I could see they found my attitude on the fair unpalatable. But Miller was ready at all events. If I may be allowed to put my young friend's notion in more formal shape, says he. I understand him to propose that we should embody the fact of his sequestration, and perhaps some heads of the testimony he was prepared to offer in a memorial to the crown. This plan has elements of success. It is as likely as any other and perhaps likelier to help our client. Perhaps his majesty would have the goodness to feel a certain gratitude to all concerned in such a memorial, which might be construed into an expression of a very delicate loyalty. And I think in the drafting of the same this view might be brought forward. They all nodded to each other, not without size, for the former alternative was doubtless more after their inclination. Paper then, Mr. Stewart, if you please, pursued Miller. And I think it might very fittingly be signed by the five of us here present as procurators for the condemned man. It can do none of us any harm at least, says Colton, having another sigh, for he had seen himself Lord Advocate the last ten minutes. Thereupon they set themselves, not very enthusiastically, to draft the memorial, a process in the course of which they soon caught fire. And I had no more adieu but to sit looking on and answer an occasional question. The paper was very well expressed, beginning with a recitation of the facts about myself, the reward offered for my apprehension, my surrender, the pressure brought to bear upon me, my sequestration, and my arrival at Inverary, in time to be too late. Going on to explain the reasons of loyalty and public interest for which it was agreed to waive any right of action, and winding up with a forcible appeal to the king's mercy on behalf of James. Me thought I was a good deal sacrificed, and rather represented in the light of a firebrand of a fellow whom my cloud of lawyers had restrained with difficulty from extremes. But I let it pass, and made but one suggestion, that I should be described as ready to deliver my own evidence, and deduce that of others before any commission of inquiry, and the one demand that I should be immediately furnished with a copy. This is a very confidential document, said he. And my position towards Preston Grange is highly peculiar, I replied. No question, but I must have touched his heart at our first interview, so that he has since stood my friend consistently. But for him, gentlemen, I must now be lying dead, or awaiting my sentence alongside poor James, for which reason I choose to communicate to him the facts of this memorial as soon as it is copied. You are to consider also that this step will make for my protection. I have enemies here accustomed to drive hard. His grace is in his own country, love it by his side, and if there should hang any ambiguity over our proceedings, I think I might very well awake in jail. Not finding any very ready answers to these considerations? My company of advisors were, at the last, persuaded to consent, and made only this condition that I was to lay the paper before Preston Grange with the express compliments of all concerned. The advocate was at the castle dining with his grace. By the hand of one of Calstone's servants, I sent him a billet asking for an interview, and received a summons to meet him at once in a private house of the town. Here I found him alone in a chamber. From his face there was nothing to be gleaned, yet I was not so unobservant, but what I spied some halberts in the hall. And not so stupid, but what I could gather he was prepared to arrest me then and there, should it appear advisable. So, Mr. David, this is you, said he. Where I fear I am not overly welcome, my lord, said I, and I would like, before I go further to express my sense of your lordship's good offices, even should they now cease. I have heard of your gratitude before, he replied dryly, and I think this can scarce be a matter you called me from my wine to listen to. I would remember also if I were you, that you still stand on a very boggy foundation. Not now, my lord, I think, said I, and if your lordship will glance an eye along this, you will perhaps think as I do. He read it sedulously through, frowning heavily, and then turned back to one part and another which he seemed to weigh and compare the effect of. His face a little lightened. This is not so bad, but what it might be worse, said he, though I am still likely to pay dear for my acquaintance with Mr. David Balfour. Dear for your indulgence to that unlucky young man, my lord, said I, he still skimmed the paper and all the while his spirit seemed to mend. And to whom am I indebted for this, he asked presently. Other counsels must have been discussed, I think. Who was it proposed this private method? Was it Miller? My lord, it was myself, said I. These gentlemen have shown me no such consideration as I should deny myself any credit I can fairly claim or spare them any responsibility they should properly bear. And the mere truth is that they were all in favor of a process which should have remarkable consequences on the Parliament House and prove for them, in one of their own expressions, a dripping roast. Before I intervened, I think they were on the point of sharing out the different law appointments. Our friend Mr. Simon was to be taken in upon some composition. Preston Grange smiled. These are our friends, said he. And what were your reasons for dissenting, Mr. David? I told him without concealment, expressing, however, with more force and volume those which regarded Preston Grange himself. You do me no more than justice, said he. I have fought as hard in your interest as you have fought against mine. And how come you here today, he asked. As the case drew out, I began to grow uneasy that I had clipped the period so fine, and I was even expecting you tomorrow. But today I never dreamed of it. I was not, of course, going to betray Andy. I suspect there is some very weary cattle by the road, said I. If I had known you were such a mass trooper, you should have tasted longer of the bass, says he. Speaking of which, my Lord, I return your letter. And I gave him the enclosure in the counterfeit hand. There was a cover also with the seal, said he. I have it not, said I. It bore not even an address, and could not compromise a cat. The second enclosure I have, and with your permission, I desire to keep it. I thought he winced a little, but he said nothing to the point. Tomorrow, he resumed, our business here is to be finished, and I proceed to Glasgow. I would be very glad to have you of my party, Mr. David. My Lord, I began, I do not deny it will be of service to me, he interrupted. I desire that when we shall come to Edinburgh, you shall alight at my house. You have very warm friends in the misgrants who will be overjoyed to have you to themselves. If you think I have been of use to you, you can thus easily repay me. And so far from losing, you may reap some advantage by the way. It is not every strange young man who is presented in society by the king's advocate. Often enough already, in our brief relations, this gentleman has caused my head to spin. No doubt, but what for a moment he did so again. Here was the old fiction, still maintained, of my particular favor with his daughters, one of whom had been so good as to laugh at me, while the other two had scarce gain to remark the fact of my existence. And now I was to ride with my Lord to Glasgow. I was to dwell with him in Edinburgh. I was to be brought into society under his protection. That he should have so much good nature as to forgive me was surprising enough. That he could wish to take me up and serve me seemed impossible. And I began to seek some ulterior meaning. One was plain. If I became his guest, repentance was excluded. I could never think better of my present design and bring any action. And besides, would not my presence in his house draw out the whole pungency of the memorial? For that complaint could not be very seriously regarded if the person chiefly injured was the guest of the official most incriminated. As I thought upon this, I could not quite refrain from smiling. This is in the nature of a counter-check to the memorial, said I. You are cunning, Mr. David, said he, and you do not wholly guess wrong the fact will be of use to me and my defense. Perhaps, however, you underrate friendly sentiments, which are perfectly genuine. I have a respect for you, David, mingled with awe, he said, smiling. I am more than willing. I am earnestly desirous to meet your wishes, said I. It is my design to be called to the bar, for your lordship's countenance would be invaluable. And I am besides sincerely grateful to yourself and family for different marks of interest and of indulgence. The difficulty is here. There is one point in which we pull two ways. You are trying to hang James Stewart. I am trying to save him. Insofar as my writing with you would better your lordship's defense, I am at your lordship's orders. But insofar as it would help to hang James Stewart, you see me at a stick. I thought he swore to himself. You should certainly be called. The bar is the true scene for your talents, he said bitterly, and then fell while silent. I will tell you, he presently resumed, there is no question of James Stewart for or against. James is a dead man. His life is given and taken. But if you like it better and sold, no memorial can help, no defalcation to a faithful Mr. David hurt him. Blow high, blow low, there will be no pardon for James Stewart, and take that, for said. The question is now of myself. Am I to stand or fall? And I do not deny to you that I am in some danger. But will Mr. David Balfour consider why? It is not because I pushed the case unduly against James, for that I am sure of condemnation. And it is not because I have sequestered Mr. David on a rock, though it will pass under that color. But because I did not take the ready and plain path, to which I was pressed repeatedly, and send Mr. David to his grave, or to the gallows. Hence the scandal, hence the damned memorial striking the paper on his leg. My tenderness for you has brought me in this difficulty. I wish to know if your tenderness to your own conscience is too great to let you help me out of it. No doubt, but there was much of the truth in what he said. If James was past helping, whom was it more natural that I should turn to help than just the man before me, who had helped myself so often, it was even now setting me a pattern of patience. I was besides not only weary, but beginning to be ashamed of my perpetual attitude of suspicion and refusal. If you will name the time and place, I will be punctually ready to attend your Lordship, said I. He shall hands with me. And I think my Mrs. have some news for you, says he, dismissing me. I came away vastly pleased to have my peace made, yet a little concerned in conscience. Nor could I help wondering, as I went back, whether perhaps I had not been a scruple to good natured. But there was the fact that this was a man that might have been my father, an able man, a great dignitary, and one that, in the hour of my need, had reached a hand to my assistance. I was in the better humor to enjoy the remainder that evening, which I passed with the advocates, in excellent company, no doubt. But perhaps with rather more than a sufficiency of punch, for though I went early to bed, I have no clear mind of how I got there. END OF CHAPTER XVII On the morrow, from the justices' private room, where none could see me, I heard the verdict given in, and judgment rendered upon James. The Duke's words, I am quite sure I have correctly, and since that famous passage has been made a subject of dispute, I may as well commemorate my version. Having referred to the year 45, the chief of the Campbells, sitting as Justice General upon the bench, thus addressed the unfortunate steward before him. If you had been successful in that rebellion, you might have been giving the law where you have now received the judgment of it. We, who are this day your judges, might have been tried before one of your mock courts of judicure, and then you might have been satiated with the blood of any name or clan to which you had an aversion. This is to let the cat out of the bag indeed, thought I, and that was the general impression. It was extraordinary how the young advocate lads took hold and made a mock of this speech, and how scarce a meal passed without someone would get in the words, and then you might have been satiated. Many songs were made in time for the hour's diversion, and are near all forgot. I remember one began, What do ye want of the blood of, blood of? Is it a name, or is it a clan, or is it an off-filled hylenderman, that ye want the blood of, the blood of? Another went to my old favorite air, the house severely, and it began thus. It fell on a day when Argyle was on the bench. They served him a stewart for his dinner. And one of the verses ran, Then up and spake the duke conflated on his cook, I regarded as a sensible aspersion, that I would suppovay, Assocate my ma with the blood of only clan of my aversion. James was as fairly murdered as though the duke had got a fouling-piece, and stalked him. So much, of course, I knew, but others knew not so much, and were more affected by the items of scandal that came to light in the progress of the cause. One of the chief was certainly the sally of the justices. It was run hard by another of the jurymen, who had struck into the midst of Colston's speech for the defense with a, pray sir, cut it short, we had a quite weary, which seemed the very excess of impudence and simplicity. But some of my new lawyer friends were still more staggered with an innovation that had disgraced and even vacated the proceedings. One witness was never called. His name, indeed, was printed, where it may still be seen on the fourth page of the list. James Drummond, Alias McGregor, Alias James Moore, late tenant of Evern Kelly. And his precognition had been taken, as the manner is, in writing. He had remembered, or invented, God help him, matter which was led in James Stewart's shoes, and I saw was like to prove wings to his own. This testimony it was highly desirable to bring to the notice of the jury without exposing the man himself to the perils of cross-examination. And the way it was brought about was a manner of surprise to all. For the paper was handed round, like a curiosity, in court, passed through the jury box where it did his work, and disappeared again as, though by accident, before it reached the council for the prisoner. This was counted a most insidious device, and that the name of James Moore should be mingled up with it filled me with shame for Katrina and concern for myself. The following day Preston Grange and I, with a considerable company, set out for Glasgow, where, to my impatience, we continued to linger some time in a mixture of pleasure and affairs. I lodged with my lord, with whom I was encouraged to familiarity, had my place at entertainments, was presented to the chief guests, and altogether made more of than I thought accorded either my parts or station, so that on strangers being present I would often blush for Preston Grange. It must be owned the view I had taken of the world in these last months was fit to cast a gloom upon my character. I had met many men, some of them leaders in Israel, whether by their birth or talents, and who among them all had shown clean hands. As for the Browns and Millers, I had seen their self-seeking. I could never again respect them. Preston Grange was the best yet. He had saved me, spared me rather, when others had it in their minds to murder me outright. But the blood of James lay at his door, and I thought his present dissimulation with myself a thing below pardon, that he should effect to find pleasure in my discourse almost surprised me out of my patience. I would sit and watch him with a kind of slow fire of anger in my bowels. Ah, friend, friend, I would think to myself, if you were but through with this affair of the memorial, would you not kick me in the streets? Here I did him, as events have proved the most grave injustice. And I think he was at once far more sincere and a far more artful performer than I supposed. But I had some warrant for my incredulity in the behaviour of that court of young advocates that hung about in the hope of patronage. The sudden favour of a lad not previously heard of troubled him at first out of measure, but two days were not gone by before I found myself surrounded with flattery and attention. I was the same young man, and neither better nor bonnier, that they had rejected a month before, and now there was no civility too fine for me. The same, do I say, it was not so, and the by-name by which I went behind my back confirmed it. Seeing me so firm with the advocate and persuaded that I was to fly high and far, they had taken a word from the golfing-green, and they called me the teed-ball. I was told I was now one of themselves. I was to taste of their soft lining, who had already made my own experience of the roughness of the outer husk. And one, to whom I had been presented in Hope Park, was so aspired as to even to remind me of that meeting. I told him I had not the pleasure of remembering it. Why, says he, it was Miss Grant who self presented me. My name is so-and-so. It may very well be, sir, said I, but I have kept no mind of it. At which he desisted, and in the midst of the disgust that commonly overflowed my spirits, I had a glisk of pleasure. But I have not patience to dwell upon that time at length. When I was in company with these young politics, I was born down with shame for myself and my own plain ways, and scorn for them and their duplicity. Of the two evils I thought Preston Grange to be the least. And while I was always as stiff as buckram to the young bloods, I made rather a dissimulation of my hard feelings toward the Advocate, and was, in old Mr. Campbell's word, super to the lard. Himself commented on the difference, and bid me be more of my age and make friends with my young comrades. I told him I was slow of making friends. I will take the word back, said he. But there is such a thing as fair goodens and fair good day, Mr. David. These are the same young men with whom you are to pass your days and get through life. Your backwardness has a look of arrogance, and unless you can assume a little more lightness of manner, I fear you will meet difficulties in the path. It will be an ill job to make a silk purse of a sow's ear, said I. On the morning of October 1st I was awakened by the clattering in of an express, and getting to my window almost before he had dismounted, I saw the messenger had written hard. Some while after I was called to Preston Grange, where he was sitting in his bed-gown and night-cap with letters round him. Mr. David, had he, I have a piece of news for you at concern some friends of yours, of whom I sometimes think you are little ashamed, for you have never referred to their existence. I suppose I blushed. See you understand, since you make the answering signal, said he, and I must compliment you on your excellent taste and beauty. But do you know, Mr. David, this seems to me a very enterprising lass. She crops up from every side. The Government of Scotland appears unable to proceed for a mistress Catherine Drummond, which was somewhat the case, no great while back, with a certain Mr. David Balfour. Should not these make a good match? Her first intermission in politics. But I must not tell you that story. The authorities have decided you are to hear it otherwise, and from a livelier narrator. This new example is more serious, however. And I am afraid I must alarm you with the intelligence that she is now in prison. I cried out. Yes, said he. The little lady is in prison. But I would not have you to despair. Unless you, with your friends and memorials, shall procure my downfall, she is to suffer nothing. But what has she done? What is your offense? I cried. It might be almost construed a high treason, he returned, for she has broke the king's castle of Edinburgh. The lady is much my friend, I said. I know you would not mock me if the thing were serious. And yet it is serious, in a sense, said he. For this rogue of Catrine, or Catherine, as we may call her, has set adrift again upon the world that very doubtful character, her papa. Here was one of my provisions justified. James Moore was once again at liberty. He had lent his men to keep me a prisoner. He had volunteered his testimony in the Appen case, and the same, no matter by what subterfuge, had been employed to influence the jury. Now came his reward. And he was free. It might please the authorities to give to it the colour of an escape. But I knew better. I knew it must be the fulfilment of a bargain. The same course of thought relieved me of the least alarm for Catrine. She might be thought to have broken prison for her father. She might have believed so herself. But the chief hand in the whole business was that of Preston Grange. And I was sure, so far from letting her come to punishment, he would not suffer her to be even tried. Whereupon thus came out of me the not very politic ejaculation, ah, I was expecting that. You have, at times, a great deal of discretion too, says Preston Grange. And what is my Lord pleased to mean by that? I asked. I was just marveling, he replied, that being so clever as to draw these inferences, you should not be clever enough to keep them to yourself. But I think you would like to hear the details of the affair. I have received two versions. And the least official is the more full and far more entertaining being from the lively pen of my eldest daughter. Here is all the town busy with a fine piece of work, she writes. And what would make the thing more noted if it were only known, the man of factor is a protégé of his lordship, my papa. I am sure your heart is too much in your duty, if it were nothing else, to have forgotten gray eyes. What does she do? But to get a broad hat with the flaps open, a long, hairy-like man's great coat, and a big graffit, kill her coats up to good kénsoir, clop two pair of boothose upon her legs, and take a pair of clouted brogues. In her hand and off to the castle. Here she gives herself out to be a sotar, in the employ of James Moore, and gets admitted to his cell, the lieutenant who seems to have been full of pleasantry, making sport among his soldiers of the sotar's great coat. Presently they hear a disputation in the sound of blows inside, out flies the cobbler, his coat flying, the flaps of his hat beat about his face, and the lieutenant and his soldiers mock at him as he runs off. They laugh no so hardy the next time they had occasion to visit the cell, and found nobody but a tall, pretty gray eyed lass in the female habit. As for the cobbler, he was over the hills out Dumb Lane, and has thought that poor Scotland will have to console herself without him. I drank between his health this night in public. Indeed the whole town admires her, and I think the bow would wear bits of her garters in their buttonholes if they could only get them. I would have gone to visit her in prison too, only remembered in time. I was Papa's daughter. So I'd alter a billet instead which I entrusted to the faithful duke, and I hope you'll admit I can be political when I please. The same faithful Gomero is to dispatch this letter by the express along with those of the Wise Acres, so you may hear Tom Fool in company with Solomon. Talking of Gomerole's, do tell David Balfour. I could see the face of him at the thought of a long-legged lass in the levities of your affectionate daughter and his respectful friend. So my Erascal signs herself, continued Preston Grange, and you see, Mr. David, it is quite true what I tell you, that my daughters regards you with the most affectionate playfulness. The Gomerole is much obliged, said I. And was not this prettily done, he went on. Is not this Highland made a piece of a heroine? I was always sure she had a great heart, said I, and I wager she guessed nothing. But I beg your pardon. This is to tread upon forbidden subjects. I will go bail, she did not. He returned, quite openly. I will go bail, she thought she was flying straight into King George's face. Remembrance of Katrina and the thought of her lying in captivity moved me strangely. I could see that even Preston Grange admired and could not withhold his lips from smiling when he considered her behavior. As for Miss Grant, for all her ill habit of mockery, her admiration shone out plain. A kind of a heat came upon me. I am not your lordship's daughter, I began. That I know of, he put in smiling. I speak like a fool, said I. Or rather I began wrong. It would doubtless be unwise in Mistress Grant to go to her in prison. But for me I think I would look like a half-hearted friend if I did not fly there instantly. So home, Mr. David, says he, I thought that you and I were in a bargain. My lord, I said, when I made that bargain I was a good deal affected by your goodness. But I'll never can deny that I was moved besides by my own interest. There was self-seeking in my heart, and I think shame of it now. It may be for your lordship's safety to say this fascist Davy Balfour is your friend and housemate. Say it then, and I'll never contradict you. But as for your patronage I give it all back. I ask but the one thing. Let me go and give me a pass to see her in prison. He looked at me with a hard eye. You put the cart before the horse, I think, says he. That which I had given was a portion of my liking, which your thankless nature does not seem to have remarked. But for my patronage it is not given, nor, to be exact, is it yet offered. He paused a bit. And I warn you, you do not know yourself yet. Youth is a hasty season. You will think better of all this before a year. Well, and I would like to be that kind of youth, I cried. I have seen too much of the other party in these young advocates that fawn upon your lordship, and or even at the pains to fawn on me. And I have seen it in the old ones also. They are all for bayans and the whole clan of them. It's this that makes me seem to mist out your lordship's liking. Why would I think that you would like me? But you told me yourself that he had an interest. I stopped at this, confounded that I had run so far. He was observing me with an unfathomable face. My lord, I ask your pardon, I resumed. I have nothing in my chaffs but a rough country tongue. I think it would be only decent like if I would go to see my friend in her captivity. But I'm owing you my life. I'll never forget that. And if it's for your lordship's good, here I'll stay. That's barely gratitude. This might have been reached in fewer words, said Preston Grange Grimly. It is easy, and it is at times gracious to say a plain scots, I. Ah, but my lord, I think you take me not yet entirely, cried I, for your sake, for my life safe, and the kindness that you say he bear to me, for these I'll consent, but not for any good that might be coming to myself. If I stand aside when this young maid is in her trial, it's a thing I will be nowadays advantaged by. I will lose by it. I will never gain. I would rather make a shipwreck holy than to build on that foundation. He was a minute serious, then smiled. You remind me of the man with the long nose, said he. Was you to see the moon by a telescope you would see David Balfour there? But you shall have your way of it. I will ask at you one service, and then set you free. My clerks are overdriven. Be so good as to copy me these few pages, and when that is done, I shall bid you God speed. I would never charge myself with Mr. David's conscience, and if you could cast some part of it, as you went by, in a moss hag, you would find yourself to ride much easier without it. Perhaps not just entirely in the same direction, though, my lord, says I. And you shall have the last word, too. Christ he gaily. Indeed, he had some cause forget he having now found the means to gain his purpose. To lessen the weight of the memorial, or to have a readier answer at his hand, he desired I should appear publicly in the character of his intimate. But if I were to appear with the same publicity as a visitor to Katrina and her prison, the world would scare stint to draw conclusions, and the true nature of James Moore's escape must become evident to all. This was the little problem I had to set him of a sudden, and to which he had so bristly found an answer. I was to be tethered in Glasgow by that job of coppering, which in mere outward decency I could not well refuse, and during these hours of employment Katrina was privately got rid of. I think shame to write of this man that loaded me with so many goodnesses. He was kind to me as any father, yet I ever thought him as false as a cracked ball. The copying was weary business. The more so as I perceived very early that there was no sort of urgency in the matters treated, and it began very early to consider my employment a pretext. I had no sooner finished than I got to horse, used what remained of daylight to the best purpose, and being at last fairly benighted, slept in a house by almond waterside. I was in the saddle again before the day, and the Edinburgh booths were just opening when I clattered by the West Bow, and drew up a smoking horse at my Lord Advocate's door. I had a written word for Doug, my Lord's private hand, that was thought to be in all his secrets. A worthy little plain man, all fat and snuff, and self-sufficiency. Him I found already at his desk, and already be dabbled with inkaba. In the same manter room where I encountered with James Moore, he read the note scrupulously through, like a chapter in his Bible. Hmm, says he. Come, a wee thing on hand, Mr. Balfour, the bird flan, we had letten her out. Mr. Drummondus set free, I cried. Ach, said he, what would we keep before, I can, to have made a stir about the brian would be as pleased nobody. And where is she now, says I. Good can't, said do it with a shrug. She'll have gone home to Lady Allardyce, I'm thinking, said I. That'll be it, said he. Then I'll be ganged there straight, says I. But she'd better for a bite or you go, said he. Neither bite nor sup, said I. I had a good watch of milk in my rado. A wheel of wheels, says Doug. But you cannot take, leave it or horse in your bags, for it seems, were to have your output. Na, na, says I. Tamsen's mirror would never be the thing for me this day of all days. To do it speaking somewhat broad, I had been led by imitation into an accent much more contrafied than I was usually careful to affect a good deal broader. Indeed, then I have written it down. And I was the more ashamed when another voice joined in behind me with a scrap of a ballad. Que saddle me the bonnie black, que saddle soon and make it ready, for I will go down the gates of slack and to see my bonnie lady. The young lady, when I turned to her, stood in a morning-gown, and her hands muffled in the same, as if to hold me at a distance. Yet I could not but think there was kindness in the eye with which she saw me. My best respects to you, Mistress Grant, I said, vowing. The like to yourself, Mr. David, she replied with a deep curtsy, and I beg to remind you of an old musty saw that meat and mass never hindered man. The mass I cannot afford you, for we are all good Protestants, but the meat I press on your attention. And I would not wonder what I could find something for your private ear that would be worth the stopping for. Mistress Grant, said I, I believe I am already your debtor for some merry words, and I think they were kind, too, on a piece of unsigned paper. Unsigned paper? said she, and made a droll face, which was likewise runn'rous beautiful, as of one trying to remember. Or else I am the more deceived, I went on. But, to be sure, we shall have the time to speak of these, since your father is so good as to make me, for a while, your inmate. And the Gummerle begs you at this time only, for the favor of his liberty. You give yourself hard names, said she. Mr. Duogh and I would be blithe to take harder at your clever pen, says I. Once more I have to admire the discretion of all menfolk, she replied. But if you will not eat, off with you at once. You'll be back the sooner, for you go on a fool's errand. Off with you, Mr. David, she continued, opening the door. He had a lopin on his bonny gray. He raided the wreck's gate and the ready, a true that he would neither stint nor stay, for he was seeking his bonny leddie. I did not wait to be twice bidden, and it just is to Miss Grant's citation on the way to Dean. Old Lady Allardyce walked there alone in the garden, in her hat and much, and having a silver-mounted staff of some black wood to lean upon. As I lighted for my horse and drew near to her with conges, I could see the blood came in her face and her head fling in the air like what I conceived of empresses. And what brings you to my poor door? She cried, speaking high through her nose. I cannot bear it. The males of my house are dead and buried, and I have neither son nor husband to stand in the gate for me. Any beggar come pluck me by the baird, and a baird there is, and that's the worst of it yet, she added partly to herself. I was extremely put out at this reception, and the last remark, which seemed like a daft wife's, left me near hand speechless. I see I have fallen under your displeasure, ma'am, said I, yet I will still be so bold as to ask after Mistress Drummond. She considered me with a burning eye, her lips pressed close together into twenty creases, her hand shaking on her staff. This cow's all, she cried. You come to me to spare for her? What God I knew! She's not here, I cried. She threw up her chin and made a step and a cry at me so that I fell back incontinent. Out upon your laying throat, she cried. What ye come and spirit me? She's in jail, where you'll took her to. That's all there is to it. And if all the beings ever I beheld in vreaks, I think it should be you. You, Trevor Scoundrel, if I had a male left to my name, I would have your jacket dusted till ye reared. I thought it no good to delay longer in that place, because I remarked her passion to be rising. As I turned to the horse post, she even followed me, and I make no shame to confess that I rode away with the one stirrup on and scrambling for the other. As I knew no other quarter where I could push my inquiries, there was nothing left for me but to return to the advocates. I was well received by the four ladies, who were now in company together, and must give the news of Preston Grange, and what word went in the West Country at the most inordinate length, and with great weariness to myself. While all the time that young lady, with whom I so much desired to be alone again, observed me quizzically, and seemed to find pleasure in the sight of my impatience. At last, after I had endured a meal with them, and was come very near to the point of appealing for an interview before her aunt, she went and stood by the music case and, picking out a tune, saying to it on a high key, He that will not, when he may, when he will, he shall have me. But this was the end of a rigorous, and presently after making some excuse of which I have no mind, she carried me away into the private of her father's library. I should not fail to say she was dressed to the nines, and appeared extraordinary handsome. Now, Mr. David, sit ye down here and let us have a two-handed crack, sit ye, for I have much to tell you, and it appears besides that I have been grossly and just your good taste. In what manner, Mr. Scrant, I asked, I trust I have never seemed to fail in due respect. I will be your surety, Mr. David, sit ye, Your respect, whether to yourself or your poor neighbors, has been always and most fortunately beyond imitation. But that is by the question. You got a note from me? She asked. I was so bold as to suppose so upon inference, said I, and it was kindly thought upon. It must have prodigiously surprised you, said she. But let us begin with the beginning. You have not perhaps forgot a day when you were so kind as to escort three very tedious misses to Hope Park? I have the less cost for get it myself, because you was so particular obliging as to introduce me to some of the principles of the Latin grammar, a thing which wrote itself profoundly on my gratitude. I fear I was sadly pedantical, said I, overcome with confusion at the memory. You are only to consider that I am quite unused with the society of ladies. I will say the less about the grammar then, she replied. But how came you to desert your charge? He has thrown her out overboard, his Aindir Annie. She hummed. And he has Aindir Annie and her two sisters had to tangle home by themselves like a string of green geese. It seems you returned to my papa's where you showed yourself excessively marshal, and then onto realm's unknown with an eye it appears to the bass rock, soul and geese being perhaps more to your mind than Bonnie Lasses. Through all this railery there was something indulgent in the lady's eye which made me suppose there might be better coming. You take a pleasure to torment me, said I, and I make a very feckless plaything, but let me ask you to be more merciful. At this time there is but the one thing that I care to hear of, and that will be news of Katrina. Do you call her by that name to her face, Mr. Balfour? She asked. In truth, and I am not very sure, I stammered. It would not do so in any case to strangers, said Miss Grant. And why are you so much immersed in the affairs of this young lady? I heard she was in prison, said I. Well, and now you hear that she is out of it, she replied. And what more would you have? She has no need of any further champion. I may have the greater need of her, ma'am, said I. Come, this is better, says Miss Grant. But look me fairly in the face. Am I not bonnier than she? I would be the last to be denying it, said I. There is not your moral in all Scotland. Well, here you have the pick of the two at your hand, and must need speak of the other, said she. This is never the way to please the ladies, Mr. Balfour. But Mistress, said I, there are surely other things besides mere beauty by which I am to understand that I am no better than she should be, perhaps, she asked. By which you will please understand that I am like the cock in the midden in the fablebook, said I. I see the broad jewel, and I like fine to see it too, but I have more need of the pickle corn. Provissimo, she cried, there is a word well said at last, and I will reward you for it with my story. That same night of your desertion, I came late from a friend's house, or I was excessively admired, whatever you may think of it, and what should I hear but that alas in a tartan screen desired to speak with me. She had been there an hour better, said the servant lass, and she grattened to herself as she sat waiting. I went into her direct, she rose as I came in, and I knew her with a look. Gray eyes, said I to myself, but was more wise than to let on. You will be, Miss Grant, at last, she says, rising and looking at me hard and pitifully. I, it was true, he said, you are Bonnie at all events. The way God made me, my dear, said I, but I would be gay and obliged if you could tell me what brought you here at such a time of the night. Lady, she said, we are kinfolk, we are both come from the blood of the sons of Alpen. My dear, I replied, I think no more of Alpen or his sons than what I do of a kale stock. You have a better argument in these tears upon your body face, and at that I was so weak-minded as to kiss her, which is what you would like to do dearly, and I wager will never find the courage of. I say it was weak-minded of me, for I knew no more of her than the outside, but it was the wisest stroke I could have hit upon. She is a very staunch, brave nature, but I think she has been little used with tenderness, and at that caress, though to say the truth it was but lightly given, her heart went out to me. I will never betray the secrets of my sex, Mr. Davy. I will never tell you the way she turned me round her thumb, because it is the same she will use to twist yourself. I, it is a fine lass. She is as clean as hill well water. She is errant, I cried. Well then, she told me her concerns, pursued Miss Grant. And what a swither she was in about her papa, and what a taking about yourself, with very little cause, and in what a perplexity she has found herself after you was gone away. And then I minded at long last, says she, that we were kinswomen, and that Mr. David should have given you the name of the bonniest of the bonny, and I was thinking to myself, if she is so bonny, she will be good at all events, and I took up my foot-soles out of that. That was when I forgave yourself, Mr. Davy. When you was in my society, you seemed upon hot iron. By all marks, if I ever saw a young man that was wanted to be gone, it was yourself, and I and my two sisters were the ladies you were so desirous to be gone from. And now it appeared you had given me some notice in the by-going, and was so kind as to comment on my attractions. From that hour you may date our friendship, and I began to think with tenderness upon the Latin grammar. You will have many hours to rally me in, said I, and I think besides you do yourself injustice. I think it was Katrina turned your heart in my direction. She is too simple to perceive as you do the stiffness of her friend. I would not like to wager upon that, Mr. David, said she. The lasses have clear eyes, but at least she is your friend entirely as I was to see. I carried her into her lordship, my papa, and his advocacy being in a favorable stage of claret was so good as to receive the pair of us. Here is green eyes that you have been divved with these past days, said I. She has come to prove that we spoke true, and I lay the prettiest lass in the three Lothians at your feet, making a papacytical reservation of myself. She suited her actions to my words. Down she went upon her knees to him. I would not like to swear, but he saw two of her, which doubtless made her appeal the more irresistible, for you are all a pack of Mohammedans. Told him what had passed that night, and how she had withheld her father's man from following of you, and what a case she was in about her father, and what a flutter for yourself, and begged with weeping for the lives of both of you, neither of which was in the slightest danger. Till I vow I was proud of my sex because it was done so prettily, and ashamed for it because of the smallest of the occasion. She had not gone far, I assure you, before the Advocate was wholly sober, to see his inmost politics revealed out by young lass and discovered to the most unruly of his daughters. But we took him in hand, the pair of us, and brought that matter straight. Properly managed, and that means managed by me, there is no one to compare with my papa. He has been a good man to me, said I. Well, he was a good man to Catrine, and I was there to see it. Said she. And she pleaded for me, say I. She did that, and very movingly, said Miss Grant. I would not like to tell you what she said. I find you vain enough already. God reward her for it, cried I. With Mr. David Balfour, I suppose. Says she. You do me too much injustice at the last, I cried. I would tremble to think of her in such hard hands. Do you think I would presume, because she begged my life? She would do that for a new welped puppy. I have had more than that to set me up. If you but can't. She kissed that hand of mine. I, but she did. And why? Because she thought I was playing a brave part, and might be going to my death. It was not for my sake. But I need not to be telling that to you, that cannot look at me without laughter. It was for the love of what she thought was bravery. I believe there is none but me, and poor Prince Charlie had that honor done with them. Was this not to make a god of me? And do you not think my heart would quake when I remember it? I do laugh at you a good deal, and a good deal more than is quite civil, said she. But I will tell you one thing. If you speak to her like that, you have some glimmerings of a chance. Me, I cried. I would never dare. I can speak with you, Miss Grant, because it's a matter of indifference what you think of me. But her, no fear, said I. I think you have the largest feet in all broad Scotland, said she. Truth is, they are no very small, said I, looking down. Poor Katrina! Christ, Miss Grant. And I could but stare upon her. For though I now see very well what she was driving at, and perhaps some justification for the same, I was never swift at the uptake in such flimsy talk. Ah, well, Mr. David, said she. It goes sore against my conscience, but I see I shall have to be your speaking-board. She shall know you came to see her straight upon the news of her imprisonment. She shall know you would not pause to eat, and of our conversation she shall hear just so much as I think convenient for a maid of her age and inexperience. Believe me, you will be in that way much better serve than you could serve yourself, for I will keep the big feet out of the platter. You know where she is, then, I exclaimed. That I do, Mr. David, and will never tell, said she. Why that, I asked. Well, she said, I am a good friend, as you will soon discover, and the chief of those that I am friend to is my papa. I assure you, you will never heat nor melt me out of that, so you may spare me your sheep's eyes, and a due to your David Balfour ship for the now. But there is yet one more thing, I cried. There is one thing that must be stopped, being mere ruin to herself and to me, too. Well, she said, be brief. I have spent half the day on you already. My Lady Allerdice believes, I began. She supposes, she thinks, that I abducted her. The color came into Miss Grant's face, so that at first I was quite a bash to find her ear so delicate, till I bethought me she was struggling rather with mirth, a notion in which I was altogether confirmed by the shaking of her voice as she replied, I will take up the defence of your reputation, she said. You may leave it in my hands. And with that she withdrew out of the library. Chapter 20 I Continue To Move In Good Society For about exactly two months I remained a guest in Preston Grange's family, where I bettored my acquaintance with the bench, the bar, and the flower of Edinburgh Company. You are not to suppose my education was neglected. On the contrary, I was kept extremely busy. I studied the French, so as to be more prepared to go to laden. I set myself to the fencing, and wrought hard, and sometimes three hours in the day, with notable advancement. At the suggestion of my cousin Pilrig, who is an apte musician, I was put to a singing class, and by the orders of my Miss Grant, to one for the dancing, at which I must say I proved far from ornamental. However, all were good enough to say it gave me an address a little more genteel, and there is no question but I learned to manage my coat skirts and sword with more dexterity, and to stand in a room as though the same belonged to me. My clothes themselves were all earnestly reordered, and the most trifling circumstance, such as where I should tie my hair, or the color of my ribbon, debated among the three Misses like a thing of weight. One way with another, no doubt I was a good deal improved to look at, and acquired a bit of modest air that would have surprised the good folks at Essendine. The two younger Misses were very willing to discuss a point of my abillement, because that was in the line of their chief thoughts. I cannot say that they appeared any other way conscious of my presence, and though always more than civil with a kind of heartless cordiality could not hide how much I weary them. As for the aunt, she was a wonderful still woman, and I think she gave me much the same attention as she gave the rest of the family, which was little enough. The eldest daughter and the advocate himself were thus my principal friends, and our familiarity was much increased by a pleasure that we took in common. Before the court met, we spent a day or two at the House of Grange, living very nobly with an open table, and there it was that we three began to write out together in the fields, a practice afterwards maintained in Denver. So far the advocate's continual affairs permitted. When we were put in a good frame by the briskness of the exercise, the difficulties of the way, or the accidents of bad weather, my shyness wore entirely off. We forgot that we were strangers, and speech not being required, it flowed the more naturally on. Then it was that they had my story from me, bit by bit, from the time that I left Essendine with my voyage and battle in the Covenant, wanderings in the Heather, etc., and from the interest they found in my adventures sprung the circumstance of a jaunt we made a little later on, on a day when the courts were not sitting, and of which I will tell a trifle more at length. We took horse early and passed first by the House of Shaw's, where it stood smokeless in a great field of white frost, for it was yet early in the day. Here Preston Grange, alighted down, gave me his horse, and proceeded alone to visit my uncle. My heart, I remember, swelled up bitter within me at the sight of that bear house, and the thought of the old miser sitting chittering within the cold kitchen. There is my home, said I, and my family. Poor David Balfour, said Miss Grant. What passed during the visit I have never heard, but it would doubtless not be very agreeable to Ebenezer, for when the Advocate came forth again his face was dark. I think you will soon be the Laird indeed, Mr. Davy, he said, turning half about with one foot in the stirrup. I will never pretend sorrow, said I. And to say the truth during his absence, Miss Grant and I had been embellishing the place in fancy, with plantations, partiers, and a terrace, much as I have since carried out, in fact. Hence we pushed to the Queen's Ferry, where Ankilore gave us a good welcome, being indeed out of the body to receive so great a visitor. Here the Advocate was so unaffectedly good as to go quite fully over my affairs, sitting perhaps two hours with the writer in his study, and expressing, I was told, a great esteem for myself and concern for my fortunes. To while this time Miss Grant and I and young Ankilore took boat and passed the hope to Lime Kilns, Rankler made himself very ridiculous, and I thought offensive, with his admiration for the young lady. And to my wonder, only it is so common a weakness of her sex, she seemed, if anything, to be a little gratified. One use it had, for when we were come to the other side, she laid her commands on him to mine the boat, while she and I passed a little further to the alehouse. This was her own thought, for she had been taken with my account of Alice and Hasty, and desired to see the lass herself. We found her once more alone, indeed I believe her father wrought all day in the fields, and she curtsied dutifully to the gentry folk, and the beautiful young lady in the writing-coat. Is this all the welcome I am to get? said I, holding out my hand, and have you no more memory of old friends? Kate me, why is this of it? she cried, and then, God's truth, it's the truant laddie. The very same, says I. Men is the time I've thought upon you and your friend, and blithe am I to see your bra as she cried, though I can't ye will come to your own folk by the grand presentie she sent me, and that I thank ye far with all my heart. There, said Miss Grant to me, run out by with ye, like a good Baron, I didn't come here to stand and hold a candle, it's her and me that are to crack. I suppose she stayed ten minutes in the house, but when she came forth I observed two things, that her eyes were reddened, and a silver brooch was gone out of her bosom. This very much affected me. I never saw you so well adorned, said I. Oh, Davy-man, dinner be a pompous gawk! said she, and was more than usually sharp to me the remainder of the day. About candlelight we came home from this excursion. For a good while I heard nothing further of Katrina, my Miss Grant remaining quite impenetrable, and stopping my mouth with pleasantries. At last, one day that she returned from walking, and found me alone in the parlor over my French, I thought there was something unusual in her looks, the color heightened, the eyes sparkling high, and a bit of a smile continually bitten in as she regarded me. She seemed indeed like the very spirit of mischief, and walking bristly in the room had soon involved me in a kind of quarrel over nothing, and, at the least, with nothing intended on my side. I was like a Christian in the slew. The more I tried to clammer out upon the side, the deeper I became involved, until at last I heard her declare with a great deal of passion that she would take that answer from the hands of none, and I must down upon my knees for pardon. The causelessness of all this fuff stirred my own bile. I have said nothing you can properly object to, said I, and as for me in knees it is an attitude I keep for God. And as a goddess I am to be served, she cried, shaking her brown locks at me and with a bright color, every man that comes within a waft of my petticoats shall use me so. I will go so far as to ask your pardon for the fashion's sake, although I vow I know not why, I replied, but for this play-acting postures you can go to others. Oh, Davy, she said, not if I was to beg you. It bethought me I was fighting with a woman, which is the same as to say a child, and that upon a point entirely formal. I think it is a bairny thing, said I, not worthy in you to ask or me to render, yet I will not refuse you neither, said I, and the stain, if there be any, rests with yourself. And at that I kneeled fairly down. There, she cried, there is the proper station, there is where I have been maneuvering to bring you. And then suddenly kept, said she, flung me a folded billet and ran from the apartment, laughing. The billet had neither place nor date. Dear Mr. David, it began. I get your news continually by my cousin, Miss Grant, and it is a pleasant hearing. I am very well in a good place among good folk, but necessitated to be quite private, though I am hoping that at long last we may meet again. All your friendships have been told me by my loving cousin, who loves us both. She bids me to send you this writing and oversees the same. I will be asking you to do all her commands, and rest your affectionate friend, Katrina McGregor Drummond. P.S., will you not see my cousin, Allardyce? I think it not the least brave of my campaigns, as the soldiers say, that I should have done as I was herebidden, and gone forthright to the house by Dean. But the old lady was now entirely changed, and supple as a glove. By what means Miss Grant had brought this round, I could never guess. I am sure at least she dared not to appear openly in the affair, for her papa was compromised in it pretty deep. It was he indeed who had persuaded Katrina to leave, or rather not to return, to her cousins, placing her instead with a family of gregaries. Decent people, quite at the advocate's disposition, and in whom she might have the more confidence, because they were of his own clan and family. These kept her private till all was ripe, heated, and helped her to attempt her father's rescue. And after she was discharged from prison, received her again into the same secrecy. Thus Preston Grage obtained, and used his instrument. Nor did their leak out the smallest word of his acquaintance with the daughter of James Moore. There was some whispering, of course, upon the escape of that discredited person, but the government replied by a shore of rigor. One of the cell-porters was flogged. The lieutenant of the guard, my poor friend Duncansby, was broken of his rank. And as for Katrina, all men were well enough pleased that her fault should be passed by in silence. I could never induce Miss Grant to carry back an answer. No, she would say, when I persisted. I am going to keep the big feet out of the platter. This was the more hard to bear, as I was aware she saw my little friend many times in the week, and carried her my news whenever, as she said, I had behaved myself. At last she treated me to what she called an indulgence, and I thought rather more of a banter. She was certainly as strong, almost a violent friend, to all she liked, chief among whom was a certain frail old gentlewoman, very blind and very witty, who dwelt on the top of a tall land on a straight close, with a nest of linets in a cage, and thronged all day with visitors. Miss Grant was very fond to carry me there, and put me to entertain her friend with a narrative of my misfortunes. And Miss Tibbie Ramsey, that was her name, was particular kind, and told me a great deal that was worth knowledge of old folks and past affairs in Scotland. I should say that from her chamber window, and not three feet away, such is the straightness of that close, it was possible to look into a barred loophole lighting the stairway of the opposite house. Here, upon some pretext, Miss Grant left me one day alone with Miss Ramsey. I mind I thought that lady in a tent even, like one preoccupied. I was besides very uncomfortable for the window, contrary to custom, was left open, and the day was cold. All at once the voice of Miss Grant sounded in my ears from a distance. Here, Shoss, she cried, kick out of the window and see what I've brought in you. I think it was the prettiest sight that ever I beheld. The well of the close was in all clear shadow, where a man could see distinctly the walls very black and dingy. And there, from the barred loophole, I saw two faces smiling across at me, Miss Grant's and Katrina's. There, says Miss Grant, I wanted her to see you in your bras like the last of lime kilns. I wanted her to see what I could make of you when I buckled to the job in earnest. It came in my mind that she had been more than common particular that day upon my dress, and I think that some of the same care had been bestowed upon Katrina. For so merry and sensible a lady, Miss Grant, was certainly wonderful taken up with duds. Katrina was all I could get out. As for her, she said nothing in the world, but only waved her hand and smiled to me, and was suddenly carried away again from before the loophole. That vision was no sooner lost than I ran to the house door, where I found I was locked in. Thence back to Miss Ramsey, crying for the key, but might as well have cried upon the castle rock. She had passed her word, she said, and I must be a good lad. It was impossible to burst the door, even if it had been mannerly. It was impossible, I should leave from the window, being seven stories above the ground. All I could do was to crane over the clothes and watch for the reappearance from the stair. It was little to see, being no more than the tops of their two heads, each in ridiculous bobbin of skirts, like a pair of pincushions. Nor did Katrina so much as look up for a farewell, being prevented, as I heard afterwards, by Miss Grant, who told her folk were never seen to less advantage than from above downward. On the way home, as soon as I was set free, I abraded Miss Grant with her cruelty. I'm sorry you was disappointed, says she demurely. For my part, I was very pleased. You look better than I dreaded. You looked, if it will not make you vain, a mighty pretty young man when you appeared in the window. You are to remember that she could not see your feet. Says she, with a manner of one reassuring me. Oh, cried I. Leave my feet be, they are no bigger than my neighbors. They are even smaller than some, said she. But I speak in parables like a Hebrew prophet. I marvel little, they were sometimes stoned, says I. But you miserable girl, how could you do it? Why should you care to tantalize me with a moment? Love is like folk, says she. It needs some kind of fivers. Oh, Barbara, let me see her properly, I pleaded. You can, you can see her when you please. Let me have half an hour. Who is it that is managing this love affair? You or me? She asked, and as I continued to press her with my instances, fell back upon a deadly expedient. That of imitating the tones of my voice, when I called on Katrina by name. By which, indeed, she held me in subjection for some days to follow. There was never the least word heard of the memorial, or none by me. Press and Grange and his Grace the Lord President may have heard of it, for what I know, on the deafest sides of their heads. They kept it to themselves, at least. The public was none the wiser, and in course of time on November 8th, in the midst of a prodigious storm of wind and rain, poor James of the Glens was duly hanged at Lettermore by Balashitch. So there was the final upshot of my politics. Innocent men have perished before James, and are like to keep on perishing, in spite of all our wisdom, till the end of time. Until the end of time, young folk who are not yet used with the duplicity of life and men will struggle as I did, and make heroical resolves, and take long risks. And the course of events will push them upon the one side, and go on like a marching army. James was hanged. And here was I, dwelling in the house of Press and Grange, and grateful to him for his fatherly attention. He was hanged. And behold, when I met Mr. Simon in the causeway, I was feigned to pull off my beaver to him like a good little boy before his dominey. He had been hanged by fraud and violence, and the world wagged along, and there was not a pennyweight of difference. And the villains of that horrid plot were decent, kind, respectable fathers of families who went to Kirk and took the sacrament. But I had my view of that detestable business they call politics. I had seen it from behind when it is all bones and blackness, and I was cured for life of any temptations take part in it again. A plain, quiet, private path was which I was ambitious to walk in, when I might keep my head out of the way of dangers, and my conscience out of the road of temptation. For upon retrospect it appeared I had not done so grandly after all. But with the greatest possible amount of big speech in preparation had accomplished nothing. The twenty-fifth of the same month the ship was advertised to sail from Leith, and I was suddenly recommended to make up my mails for laden. To pression-grange I could, of course, say nothing, for I had already been a long while soaring on his house and table. But with his daughter I was more open, bewailing my fate that I should be sent out of the country, and assuring her, unless she should bring me farewell with Katrina, I would refuse at the last hour. Have I not given you my advice? she asked. I know you have, said I, and I know how much I am beholding to you already, and that I am bitten to obey your orders. But you must confess you are something to marry a lass at times to lippen to entirely. I will tell you, then, said she, Be you on board by nine o'clock for noon. The ship does not sail before one. Keep your boat alongside, and if you are not pleased with my farewells, when I shall send them, you can come ashore again and seek a train for yourself. Since I could make no more of her, I was feigned to be content with this. The day came round, at last, when she and I were to separate. We had been extremely intimate and familiar. I was much in her debt, and what way were we to part was a thing that put me from my sleep, like the veils I was to give to the domestic servants. I knew she considered me too backward, and rather desired to rise in her opinion on that head. Besides which, after so much affection shown and, I believe, felled upon both sides, it would have looked cold like to be in any way stiff. Accordingly I got my courage up and my words ready, and the last chance we were like to be alone, asked pretty boldly to be allowed to salute her in farewell. You forget yourself strangely, Mr. Balfour, said she. I cannot call to mind that I have given you any right to presume on our acquaintance. I stood before her like a stopped clock, and knew not what to think. Far less to say, when of a sudden she cast her arms about my neck and kissed me with the best will in the world. You inimitable bear! she cried. Did you think that I would let us part like strangers? Because I can never keep my gravity at you five minutes on end. You must not dream, I do not love you very well. I am all love and laughter every time I cast my eyes on you, and now I will give you an advice to conclude your education, which you will have need of before it's very long. Never ask, women folk. They're bound to answer no. God never made the last that could resist the temptation. It's opposed by divines to be the curse of Eve, because she did not say it when the devil offered her the apple. Her daughters say nothing else. Since I am so soon to lose my body professor, I began. This is Gallatin deed, said G. Kirtzing. I would put the one question I went on. May I ask alas to marry me? You think you could not marry her without? She asked. Or else get her to offer? You see, you cannot be serious, said I. I shall be very serious in one thing, David. Said she. I shall always be your friend. As I got to my horse the next morning, the four ladies were all at that same window once we had once looked down on Katrina, and all cried farewell and waved their pocket napkins as I rode away. One out of the four I knew was truly sorry, and at the thought of that, and how I had come to the door three months ago for the first time, sorrow and gratitude made a confusion in my mind.