THE
SCOTTISH CAVALIER.
An Historical Romance.
BY JAMES GRANT, ESQ.,
AUTHOR OF
"THE ROMANCE OF WAR, OR THE GORDON HIGHLANDERS,"
"MEMOIRS OF KIRKALDY OF GRANGE," &C.
Dost thou admit his right,
Thus to transfer our ancient Scottish crown?
Ay, Scotland was a kingdom once,
And, by the might of God, a kingdom still shall be!
ROBERT THE BRUCE, ACT II.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
VOL. III.
LONDON:
HENRY COLBURN, PUBLISHER,
GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.
1850.
Contents
I. Lilian
II. How Clermistonlee Pressed His Suit
III. Claverhouse to the Rescue
IV. The Secret Stair
V. The Attempt
VI. Edinburgh--The Night of the Revolution
VII. Sack of Holyrood
VIII. The Veiled Picture
IX. Love and Principle
X. The Pass of Killycrankie
XI. The Last Hour of Dundee
XII. St. Germains
XIII. The Cavaliers of Dundee
XIV. The 20th of September, 1692
XV. The Effect of the Postscriptum
XVI. The Battle of Steinkirke
XVII. A Disclosure
XVIII. Walter Fenton and the King
XIX. The Returned Exile
XX. The Bubble Burst
XXI. Love and Marriage are Two
XXII. The Ring and the Secret
XXIII. The Iron Room--The Death Shot
WALTER FENTON;
OR
THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER.
CHAPTER I.
LILIAN.
I love thee, gentle Knight! but 'tis,
Such love as sisters bear;
O, ask my heart no more than this,
For more it may not spare.
KNIGHT TOGGENBURG.
The image of Clermistonlee and his threats came painfully upon
Lilian's memory. She shrieked for aid, but her cries were lost in
the vacuity of the old-fashioned coach in which she was being carried
off. She strove to open the windows, but they were immoveable as
those of a castle, and she resigned herself to tears and despair.
The vehicle was rumbling and jolting over a waste of frozen snow;
here and there, a farm-house or a congealed rivulet were passed, but
everything appeared so strange and new, when viewed in their snowy
guise by the twilight of the mirky winter night, that Lilian had not
the most remote idea in what direction she was taken; and, shuddering
with cold and apprehension, the poor girl crouched down in a corner
of the coach, and abandoned herself to grief and wretchedness.
The excessive chill of the night, and prostration of spirit under
which she laboured, produced a sort of stupor, and when the coach
stopped, she was unable to move; but a tall dark man, muffled and
masked like an intriguing gallant of the day, lifted her out. As one
in a dream, who would in vain elude some hideous vision, she
attempted to shriek; but the unuttered cry died away on her lips, and
she closed her eyes. A strong embrace encircled her; a hot
breath--(was it not a kiss?)--came upon her cold cheek, and she felt
herself borne along; doors closed behind her, and by the warmth of
the altered temperature she was aware of being within a house.
She was seated gently in a chair; and now she looked around her. A
large fire of roots was blazing on the rough stone-hearth; its ruddy
glow rendered yet more red the bare walls and strongly arched roof of
a hall (built of red sandstone) such as may be seen in the old
fortlets of the lesser barons of Scotland. The windows on each side
were deeply embayed by the thickness of the wall, and a deep-browed
arch spanned each; they had stone seats covered with crimson
cushions, and foot-mats of plaited rushes.
The hurrying clouds and occasional stars were seen through the strong
basket-gratings that externally defended these prison-like apertures.
The hall was paved, and its rude massive furniture consisted only of
a great oblong table of oak, several forms or settles, a few
high-backed chairs, and one upon a raised part of the floor, at the
upper end, had a canopy of crimson cloth over it, announcing that it
was the state-chair of the Lord of the Manor. Swords, pikes,
harquebuses, hunting and hawking appurtenances, with a few veiled
pictures, were among its ornaments.
A great almery, or cupboard (so called from the old hospitable custom
of setting aside food as _alms_ for the poor), occupied one end of
the apartment, and an ancient casque surmounted it. Various bunkers
of carved oak, bound with iron, occupied the other. On the right
hand of the doorway, a stone lavatory, covered with magnificent
sculpture projected from the wall. This old-fashioned bason was
furnished with a hole to carry off water, and was an indispensable
convenience to every ancient dining-hall.
With one rapid glance of terror Lilian surveyed the whole place, and
started from her chair to be confronted by one whose aspect made her
instinctively shrink back. The keen and hawk-like eyes of Beatrix
Gilruth were fixed upon her with an expression at once menacing,
searching, and scornful. There was something in the wild visage of
this inexplicable woman that excited curiosity, while her air
terrified, and her withered person repelled approach.
"Who are you, woman?" asked Lilian firmly, as, stepping back a pace,
she surveyed her from head to foot; "and what are you?"
"_What_ am I?" reiterated the other, with a voice that thrilled,
while her grey eyes gleamed with a blue light, and she ground her
teeth. "I am what thou shalt be, my pretty minx, ere ye leave these
walls, perhaps."
Lilian, terrified by her aspect and her answer, sank into a chair,
saying, as she clasped her hands, and looked up imploringly from her
bright dishevelled hair--
"Woman, for the love of God, say where am I?"
"In the tower of Clermistonlee."
"So my soul foreboded; but can _he_ have dared thus far?"
"What will he not dare that man can do?"
"O Heaven, protect me!"
"Neither the Heaven that is above us, nor the Hell that is beneath,
will protect you, pretty one; but you will be made what many as fair
have been,--the toy, the plaything of an hour, to be cast aside when
some new fancy has seized the wayward mind of your lord and betrayer.
Look at that veiled portrait----"
At that moment three distinct knocks were heard against the almery.
Lilian started and turned pale.
"Yes, yes," said Beatrix scornfully, addressing the knocker; "you are
impatient. There was a time--but it matters not--I bide mine; and my
long delayed vengeance will wither thee up, false lord, even as if
the lightning of God had scorched thy perjured soul."
Low as this was uttered, it reached the ears of Lilian; she became
doubly terrified, and a momentary feeling of utter abandonment made
her cover her face with her hands and weep bitterly. But, suddenly
starting up, she said with energy--
"I will go hence, madam; and whatever be the danger, I will risk it.
But the snow, the darkness, and the distance--oh, horror!--Aunt
Grisel--gossip Annie--what will they think of this?--what will become
of me?"
"Stand," said Beatrix, interposing. "Are you mad, to think of
leaving this roof in the middle of a winter night? Remember the
dreary lea of Clermiston, the rocks and the frozen marshes of
Corstorphine, you are fey, maiden, to think it."
"Begone, thou ill woman," replied Lilian contemptuously; "I will go,
and I dare thee to stay me."
"Then," rejoined Beatrix spitefully, "remember the barred windows,
the bolted gates, and the good stone walls. Pooh, maiden, take tent
and bide where ye are; for I swear ye can never go from hence, but at
the pleasure of my lord."
"Insolent! Know ye who I am?" asked Lilian.
"The young lady of Bruntisfield," answered Beatrix coldly; "a wayward
lass with a braw tocher, it seemeth,--one who prefers a younger cap
and feather than my lord. Ha! hath he not sworn--(and mark me,
maiden, he never swears in vain!)--that he will compel thee yet to
beg his love at his hand as a boon, even as humbly as he now sues
thine."
"In sooth!" retorted Lilian, with angry surprise. "He will surely
have the aid of some such witch as thee to work so modern a miracle."
"Witch, quotha!" replied Beatrix, whose withered cheek began to
redden with passion. "Lilian Napier, there was a time when these
grey grizzled locks were once as bright and as glossy as thine; when
this brow was as smooth, this faded form as round, yea, and as
beautiful; this step as light, and this poor face as fair, as thine
now are. So beware thee of taunts, maiden; for the time is coming
(if thou art spared) when thou mayest be loathsome as I now am, and
loathing as I now do. That hour is coming; for Clermistonlee hath an
evil eye, beneath whose baleful influence all that is good and
beautiful in woman will wither and die. Oh! Lilian Napier, what a
tale of love and weakness, shame and misery, sin and horror, would
the history of my life reveal! But my hour of revenge is coming.
Yes----"
Again three knocks louder than before rang on the almery; and
Beatrix, trembling, ceased to talk, and busied herself in laying a
supper on the hall-table.
"Oh, Walter! Walter!" murmured Lilian, "if you knew of this--if you
were here to protect me!" Her tears flowed freely.
"Walter!" reiterated Beatrix musing; "can it really be the same? No,
it is impossible; and yet, why not?--He is your lover, then, this
Walter?" she asked in a low voice, while laying some cold grilled
meat, confections, and wine from a buffet. "I know he is--that blush
tells me (when did my cheek blush last?) He is young and handsome, I
warrant?"
Lilian nodded an affirmative.
"And men say he is brave?"
"Oh, yes! brave as a hero of romance," said Lilian in the same low
tone; for there is nothing so pleasing to love as to hear the object
of it praised. "And so noble--so generous! If true worth gave a
title, my dear Walter would be a belted Earl."
"Instead of being a poor standard-bearer in the ranks of Dunbarton."
"You have seen him then?" said Lilian, her blue eyes beaming, as she
almost forgot her present predicament in the thought of her lover.
"Is he not handsome, good woman?"
"It is the same!" exclaimed Beatrix, in her shrillest tone. "Walter,
the powder-boy--the soldier's brat--hah!"--she ground her teeth, and
clenched her shrivelled hands like knots of serpents--"I bide my
time. Oh, I will be fearfully avenged!"
A third time there was a knocking on the almery, and Beatrix
muttered--
"I am dumb--I will speak no more."
She pointed to the supper-table, and, throwing herself into a chair,
fixed her sunken eyes upon the red glowing fire, and, lost in her own
wild thoughts, continued to jabber with the rapidity and restlessness
of insanity. It was evident that she was partly deranged,--a
discovery which, while it raised the pity of the gentle Lilian,
increased the dread and the horror of her situation.
Clermistonlee, with his faithful rascal Juden, were both within
earshot. The former had sufficient tact and experience to know that
it would be better to defer any interview with Lilian until next
morning, by which time he hoped she would be a little more
familiarised with her situation; and leaving Juden, who was ensconced
in the recesses of the almery, to be a check upon the troublesome
garrulity of his only female domestic, he retired to a snug
apartment, where, enveloped in his shag dressing-gown, and comforted
by a great tankard of his favourite mulled sack, and several books of
"ungodly jests," he practised all his philosophy to enable him to
endure this temporary separation from Lilian, consoled by the idea
that she was completely in his clutches, within his strong tower,
which he was entitled to defend against all men living; and well
aware that, in the political storm which in another week would
convulse all Scotland from the Cheviots to Cape Wrath, the abduction
of a girl--more especially the daughter of a "persecuting
cavalier"--would be less regarded than the wind blowing over the muir.
As the still, quiet night wore on, and the fumes of the wine mounted
into his head, very strange ideas floated through the brain of the
roué. Again and again the thought of Lilian being so utterly in his
power intruded itself upon his heated imagination; he felt his blood
begin to glow; his mind became confused; he endeavoured to combat his
constitutional wickedness, and, by aid of his repeated potations, and
a highly seasoned grillade, dozed away the night very comfortably in
a well-cushioned chair; while his leal henchman was in the same happy
state of oblivion, through the medium of various stoups of ale which
he imbibed in the spence or buttery.
Not so did poor Lilian pass the slow and heavy hours.
The repast prepared for her was left untouched, she resisted every
invitation to repose, and resolved on passing the night by the
hall-fire; until, reflecting that she would be quite as safe in one
part of the tower as in another, and wishing to be alone, that she
might weep unseen, she was ushered by Beatrix up a narrow stair into
a little sleeping apartment, the greater part of which was occupied
by a great hearse-looking tester, or canopy bed. The only light in
the chamber came from the fire-place, where a heap of logs and coals
were blazing, and diffusing a warm glow on the dark wainscotted
walls, the oaken floor, and rude ceiling, which was crossed by a
massive dormant-tree of oak, covered with grotesque and hideous
carving.
There was something very gloomy and catafalcque-like in the aspect of
the gigantic bed in which Lilian was to repose; its massive posts of
dark oak and darker ebony were covered embossage, and the deep
crimson curtains, with heavy fringes, fell in shadowy festoons, while
four great plumes of feathers surmounted the corners in sepulchral
grandeur. It stood upon a raised dais of three steps, and on the
back, amid a wilderness of bassi-relievi, flowers, angels, satyrs,
and ivy, appeared the coronet and gorgeous blazon of Clermistonlee.
"I cannot sleep here, good woman," said Lilian shuddering; but the
noise of the closing door, and the bolt jarring outside, was her only
reply. She found herself alone. Her first impulse was to fasten her
door within securely; her second to examine the chamber, by the light
of the fire. In the deep little window stood a beautiful cabinet, on
the upper part of which were a mirror and all the usual appurtenances
for a lady's toilet, but of the most costly and elegant description,
with all the perfumes, oils, essences and lotions then most in vogue.
She turned from them with disgust to survey the walls, for the fear
of secret entrances was impressed powerfully upon her mind by her
knowledge of the number that existed in her own home; but, upon
examination, she found nothing to increase her dread, save the
cabinet, the doors of which were locked, and returned an unusually
hollow sound when she touched them.
Alternately a prey to fear and indignation, she walked about the
little apartment, or sat by the fire weeping and praying, until sleep
began to oppress her; and, unable longer to resist its effects, with
an audible supplication to Heaven that the morrow might bring about
her release, she threw herself (without undressing) on the bed, and
almost immediately fell fast asleep.