"PUSS IN THE CORNER."
In the fog outside flared a torch or two. The candle-lit hall
sent forth a pale stream. Five horsemen in their saddles could be
discerned--but not Danforth. Nor was Danforth the trooper who had
alighted to knock--a short, young fellow with a swarthy skin, a
magnificent mustache, and eyes as black as the long, damp cloak
tossed back over his shoulder. It swayed as he bowed with unexpected
ceremony.
"Is this the Manor House of Windlestrae?--and do I address its
master?" he asked, in a commanding but civil tone, peering past Andrew
into the hall.
Gilbert Boyd laid aside the psalm-book with studied calmness, coming
forward to the doorway.
"It is. I am Gilbert Boyd, the Master of Windlestrae, sir," he
responded, courteously. "What is your pleasure?"
Both his own and Andrew's minds were fully prepared for the answer: "I
am in the service of the King and have reason to believe that there is
now hidden in this dwelling a Jacobite rebel and refugee, Lord Geoffry
Armitage."
But, oh, unexpected occurrence! not such was the response. In an
accent yet more courteous, the unknown cavalier returned. "Pardon the
rudeness of our summons, Mr. Boyd. I fear--I see, that we disturb your
evening devotions. The house was so dark as we rode hither that we
could scarce tell whether it was really tenanted or not. My name is
Jermain--Captain Jermain. I was ordered this morning to convey a
message to Colonel Danforth at Neith, and I set out from Fort Augustus
with a few of our troop. Unluckily this fog came up apace. Our escort
speedily became dispersed. They are now somewhere in the hills,
behind. We lost our own road; and, encumbered by a rebel prisoner that
we were fortunate enough to capture on the way, we found ourselves
almost at your doors before we knew our bearings."
Andrew's heart gave a leap, as he realized that these were not
the expected and dreaded guests; but others who came by accident!
Evidently they knew nothing of the man hidden within his father's
walls. It was an unspeakable relief!
Gilbert Boyd was not a whit behind him in apprehension and gratefulness:
"You have, indeed, fared poorly, sir," he said, motioning the young
officer to step within his threshold. "What with by-paths and
cross-roads the track is difficult in fair weather. I presume that my
sending one of my household with you, until you need his guidance no
longer, will be a welcome offer."
"For which I thank you," laughed the young trooper; "but, begging
your pardon, I don't intend to ask that favor until to-morrow. It is
no evening for travelling, Mr. Boyd--and my faith! nothing but a
bayonet's point, I fear, will turn me out of your hospitable doors
to-night. You must find quarters, no matter how poor, for us few weary
men, until daylight. I have learned too much of Highland kindness to
fear that you will not--eh? House, barn or shed--it is all one to me
and my little troop."
In spite of the ingratiating tone, a command of a sort common
enough to all the region at the time, lurked unmistakably in the
dragoon-captain's smooth words. Gilbert recognized this. At the
precise hour when he was sheltering a proscribed and hunted Jacobite,
he must entertain, as best he could, a handful of the very men who,
did they suspect the other's nearness, would delight to drag him forth
to his death, as, very possibly, they were preparing to do with their
prisoner out yonder!
But it was no moment to allow more than a bewildered thought of the
untoward complication and how it must be met.
"Gude sauf us!" ejaculated poor Mistress Annan in her heart, "what an
awfu' kind o' game o' puss in the corner we're a' like to be playin'
this night!"
For she heard Gilbert, with well-simulated cordiality say,
"Neil--Morgan--Mistress Annan! Girzie Inglis! You hear? Pray request
your companions to dismount, sir. We will offer you and them any such
poor entertainment as my house affords. Step within, gentlemen!"
One grateful thought of the infinitely less trying situation that now
seemed ahead of him and his family, and another of gratitude at what
appeared an uncommon refinement on the part of this young soldier
crossed him, as Captain Jermain bowed and prepared to follow. The
other dragoons threw themselves from their saddles with exclamations
of satisfaction.
"Captain, Captain? How about this Highland wild-cat that we've got on
our hands," called one of the party to Jermain, who stood on the porch
giving some directions.
"Oh, bring him along with you," returned he. "We can keep him in
the kitchen for the present, and find a hole to stow him safely in
over-night. Meanwhile, see that no one speaks with him."
Captain Jermain preceded his escort into the hall. They who tramped
along at his back were of quite inferior social stamp and address. Two
of the party led between them the captured Highlander.
Andrew started back and stared half in pity, half curiosity. The
troopers had tied their prize's hands at his back, and he limped, as
if in the contest he had hurt his foot. There were stains of blood and
soil on his rough garments, and a ragged bandage was tied across his
forehead. A thick shock of black hair effectually disguised his
sunburnt and unshaven face from close recognition. A more wretched
figure it would have been hard to draw. He gave a piercing look at the
group in the hall as he passed, as if seeking compassion; but there
was too much else to engross the attention of the Master and Andrew
for them now to proffer it. Even the women shrunk back as he was
forced along. Gilbert directed Angus to show two of the four guards to
a small outer room adjoining the rear passage, where Captain Jermain
suggested that supper be served them speedily, and thus their charge
remain directly under their eyes and ears.
"Sit down, Captain," Gilbert said, as Andrew once more closed the
door. "We shall have some refreshment at your service in a few
moments. We finished our own evening meal just before you arrived. Be
seated, gentlemen."
"I must again regret that we disturbed your family-prayers, Mr. Boyd,"
apologized the young soldier, dropping into a seat: "I have too much
respect for your kindness and for religion, soldier that I am, to
willingly disarrange you. Ah, this is a fine old house! It is like a
bit of home for a Southerner to slip into such a spot for a night."
"You have not been long in the army?" Gilbert inquired.
"Oh, dear, no," returned the young captain, stretching out his long
legs luxuriously--"only a couple of months, and all of those loitering
about the Fort. I haven't gained much military experience, I dare
swear, by all this famous Rebellion! Have I, Mr. Dawkin? Have I,
Roxley?"
Two of the other men laughed; and confirmed Boyd in his idea that this
was a very simple-hearted young soldier, a good theorist likely, but
not much experienced in anything except fox-hunting, or slaying soft
hearts at Lowland balls. Very boyish and frank did he look, sitting
there, in spite of his dignity and manliness; and also very much like
a boy was his evident enjoyment in finding himself so comfortably
situated. In spite of his apprehensions, Gilbert could not help
fancying this Achilles the pride of some Surrey household, the darling
of some mother whose breeding of him all the rough life of a barracks
had not effaced. How much worse the peril would have been if such a
guest, forcing himself on the household, were a rude, wary old officer
full of strange oaths, exactions and suspicions of everybody and
everything about him! "Praise be to God!" Gilbert exclaimed, in his
soul, "for we may tide over the danger yet!"
He led the conversation with increased self-control into such topics
as could be discussed in common. Each sentence went further in
convincing Captain Jermain, as well as his two companions, that they
were meeting quite the most frank and friendly of hosts.
Girzie appeared and announced the supper, hastily got together by
Mistress Annan's trembling but energetic hands.
"Walk into the next room, captain. This way, gentlemen," said Boyd,
rising. Then, turning to Andrew, he added, with a meaning look, but no
accent in his voice that might awaken any interest in his remark among
the enemy. "My son, step upstairs and see if you can be of use. The
East Room will be wanted--tell Mistress Annan so."
The three troopers, headed by Gilbert, passed into the dining-parlor.
Andrew stood bewildered. His father had surely intended some special
reference to Lord Geoffry Armitage! Was Lord Geoffry waiting all this
time within ear-shot? Andrew could hardly force himself into walking
toward the stair with assumed indifference--to mount step after step
leisurely, as if reluctant to quit the sudden stir going on below and
the company of the soldiers.
All was dark as he turned toward the landing. The boy's nerves were by
this time strained intensely. He nearly uttered a cry as he ran into a
figure kneeling at the top of the staircase. Lord Geoffry's strong
clasp about him and exclamation of caution saved him.
"Oh, my lord, my lord! Have you heard? Do you know it all? It is not
Danforth!" Andrew whispered, still clasped in the imperiled young
nobleman's arms.
"Yes, yes, dear lad! I have been listening. I stole out from the
Mouse's Nest and the Purple Chamber--I can retreat to it again at an
instant's warning, you see! Be calm, dear Andrew. Do not tremble so. I
am yet safe."
"But, my lord, they may discover that you are here!"
"I do not know how," whispered the fugitive. "We have no traitors, and
walls have not tongues." He pressed the Highland boy yet more warmly
to his breast, as if in that hour of ill-fortune, standing there
within ear-shot of his foes, he was glad to feel a human heart so near
him, however young, that he knew already loved him too well to betray
him, even at the point of the bayonet.
The boy murmured passionately in his ear: "If you--are taken--I shall
die!" all of a tremor, that came from dread and love.
"Pshaw! Keep up heart!" hoarsely replied the young nobleman, with
something like tears in his voice at the gallant lad's devotion; "you
must not die, nor must I, either. We shall all come out right and
safe, I am sure. Quick--back to that handful of knaves below! I can
see already that they have a bigger child than you for their leader.
Find out for me, if possible, who is their prisoner. Contrive to let
your father know that I am in spirits--that is why he sent you. Go,
play your part well. My life is in your hands too, remember."
"I shall, I shall! But oh, my lord--go back to the Mouse's Nest.
Promise me that you will."
"So be it!" And Andrew thought he heard the intrepid young man laugh
shame-facedly at yielding to his terrified importunity, "I promise!"
Then they pressed hands and parted in the gloom.