The cardinal listened gravely to Hector's account of the duel, and of
the circumstances that gave rise to it.
“I will go at once to the Louvre and appeal to her majesty,” he said;
“you know how warmly she spoke to you on the day when you saved my life.
Still, I fear that the sternest reproof, or even an order to retire to
his estates, would not turn him from his purpose.”
“I am sure of it, your eminence; still, as I have proved victor in the
first battle in the campaign I will bide a second.”
“Mind that you do not get stabbed in the back, colonel.”
“I will beware of that, sir; whenever I walk the streets in future Paolo
shall keep a pace behind me, and I warrant that he will protect me from
any attempt of that sort.”
“At any rate remain here until I return from the Louvre.”
In an hour Mazarin returned. “The duke has been beforehand with us,” he
said. “When I told the queen of what had happened, and why this quarrel
had been fastened upon you, she sent at once for the duke, and drew out
an order, which I signed, for him to retire at once to his estates;
but the royal messenger returned with the news that he had half an hour
before ridden away to visit his father at Vendome. A courier will start
at once with the order, but I doubt whether he will be found there. It
is probable that he has gone to one of his own estates, and it may be
some time before we find out where he is. However, it is something that
he has gone.”
On his return to the inn Hector told Paolo what had taken place.
“It is a pity that you did not kill them all, master.”
“Not at all, Paolo; had I done so every one of their friends would
have been set against me. Both these men are of good families, and will
doubtless report that I had their lives at my mercy and spared them, and
after that no gentleman of reputation would take the matter up. I shall
have to be very careful in future, but now that the duke has gone there
is not likely to be any further trouble just at present.”
Paolo shook his head. “Nay, master, I think the danger all the greater.
In the first place, we do not know that he has gone. I think it far
more likely that he is hiding in the house of one of his friends. He
has pretended to leave because he was sure the cardinal would take the
matter up, and in order that, if he is absent from Paris when any harm
befell you, it could not be brought home to him. I do not suppose that
next time he will employ any of his own people. He is most popular among
the mob of Paris, who call him the King of the Markets, and he will have
no difficulty in getting as many daggers as he wishes from the scum of
the faubourgs. It would be difficult in the extreme to prove that he had
aught to do with it, for you may be sure that he would really go down
into the country with all speed the moment the deed was done.
“In future, master, you must not go out without having me close behind
you; as for the others, I would put them in ordinary citizen garb, and
let them follow some twenty yards behind, so as to be in readiness to
run up at once. They could carry swords openly, and have their pistols
hidden under their doublets.”
“It might be as well, at any rate for the present. If, as you think,
Beaufort is hidden in Paris, it is certain he will lose no time.”
Paolo nodded. “I will get the men disguises at once. They had better be
different; Macpherson can be dressed as a soldier, Nicholl as a burgher,
and Sandy Grahame and Hunter as rough mechanics. They, of course, could
not carry swords, but might take heavy cudgels. They would not walk
together, or seem to have any knowledge of each other. Sandy might be
ten paces behind you, Nicholl twenty, and the others thirty, or where
the street is wide they could keep abreast of you on the other side. Are
you going to the Louvre this evening?”
“Yes, the cardinal said that the queen wished that I should appear
there. I would much rather have stayed away, as doubtless the affair
behind the Luxembourg will be generally known by this evening, and I
shall feel my position a very unpleasant one, though I imagine that the
queen intends, by her countenance of me, to show that I have not fallen
into disgrace for duelling.”
Such was indeed the case. All eyes were turned upon Hector when he
entered the royal saloon. Many of Mazarin's friends came up and shook
hands with him warmly, while the adherents of Beaufort and Vendome stood
aloof from him with angry faces. Presently the door opened, and the
queen, closely followed by Mazarin and a train of ladies and gentlemen,
entered.
As she passed Hector she stopped. “Monsieur le Baron de la Villar,” she
said in clear tones, which were heard all over the apartment, “much as I
object to duelling, and determined as I am to enforce the edicts against
it, I feel that in the encounter this morning you were in no way to
blame, and that it was forced upon you. It is scandalous that one who
has so bravely shed his blood and risked his life in defence of France
should be assailed in the capital, and for what reason? Because he
proved faithful to the queen and her minister. You have punished the
chief of the aggressors, and I shall know how to punish those who stood
behind him;” and with a gracious bow in response to his deep reverence
she moved on.
The little speech created a deep sensation among the courtiers. That
the queen herself should so publicly give her countenance to this
young Scottish gentleman, and should--for no one doubted to whom she
alluded--even threaten one of the most powerful nobles in the land,
showed how strongly she felt. No one, with the exception of half a dozen
persons, understood her allusion to the service that he had rendered to
her and the cardinal, but all felt that it must be something altogether
exceptional. Many of the nobles who belonged neither to the party of
Beaufort nor the cardinal came up and congratulated him.
He received these signs of the impression that the queens' words had
conferred upon him quietly.
“I am very sorry for what has occurred,” he said. “I have killed many
in battle, but this is the first time that I have killed anyone in a
private quarrel. It was not one of my seeking, but I am none the less
sorry.”
As he passed near Madame de Chevreuse, she made a gesture to him to come
to her. “You did not accept my warning,” she said sadly. “Remember, a
storm is not past because the first flash of lightning does not strike.”
“I am well aware of that, madam; I thank you for your warning, but I am
bound here by my duties as a tree is bound to the earth by its roots,
and neither can move at will to escape a storm passing overhead.”
“Should I hear of any fresh danger, Monsieur Campbell,” she said in a
low voice, “I will have you informed of it, but it is more probable that
I shall not know. Were it a state secret I should surely hear of it, but
in a matter like this none save those concerned would be likely to know
of it until it was over. Be always on your guard night and day, you
cannot tell when the bolt may fall;” and she motioned to him to pass on
again. As before, Hector accompanied the cardinal as far as his hotel,
then he went towards his own lodgings, Paolo, with his hand on his
dagger, keeping a pace behind him, while the four troopers followed one
by one at a distance. The streets were almost deserted until, just as
they approached the inn, a number of rough men rushed out from side
alleys and doorways. Hector had just time to throw himself with his back
to a house and draw his sword. Paolo's knife had levelled the first man
who approached, and then drawing his sword he took his place by the side
of his master. The ruffians stood round, each anxious to be the first
to strike, and yet fearful of meeting the sword that had, as they had
heard, mastered three gentlemen.
“Run in at him, fools!” a man in a cloak, with his hat pulled down over
his eyes, and keeping in the rear of the others, shouted.
Before his orders could be carried out there was a sudden movement, and
four men burst through them and joined Hector. The assailants hesitated.
But again the man behind shouted: “Cowards, there are but six of them,
and you are five-and-twenty, are you such curs that you are afraid to
attack when you are nigh five to one?”
Then, with a hoarse yell the crowd rushed forward. One was struck down
by a heavy cudgel, three fell on the pavement, and another one tottered
back disabled, but others took their places, and for a time the little
band were hardly pressed. The four Scotchmen fought stoutly, but
although fair swordsmen they gained no great advantage over their
opponents until they betook them to their pistols, when several of their
assailants fell, but not without inflicting wounds. Paolo also fought
well, and brought three to the ground. Hector, however, took the
offensive, and before his swift blade, with its deadly thrust, those
opposed to him fell back as one after another dropped dead.
“Down with him! down with him!” the voice shouted; “are ye men thus to
give way before a single blade?”
“And are you a man,” Hector shouted back, “to set on others to fight
when you dare not fight yourself? Whoever you are, you are a coward!”
With a fierce oath the man pushed his way through those in front of him
and drew his sword. He threw back his cloak to obtain the full use of
his sword arm, and the rich gold braiding of his doublet confirmed the
opinion Hector had already formed as to his identity.
“That is better, my lord duke; it is at least more honourable to fight
in your own quarrels than to employ a band of assassins to do your
work.”
With a roar of fury Beaufort rushed upon him. He was a good swordsman,
and personally brave, but his rage neutralized his skill, and after
parrying two or three of his lunges Hector repeated the thrust with
which he had that morning disabled de Vipont, and ran his assailant
through the shoulder. He fell back with a curse.
“Kill him! kill him!” he shouted. But at that moment there was a cry,
“The watch! the watch!” Four of the fellows caught up the wounded man
and carried him off, some of the others skirmishing with the watch to
hinder their advance.
“To the inn!” Hector cried to his men, “leave the matter to the watch.”
And sheathing their weapons they ran on to the door of the hotel and
obtained entry there before the watch came up. As soon as they had
passed Hector said, “Come with me, Paolo, and see the cardinal; there is
no fear of any renewal of the attack now.
“Do you know who it was I wounded, Paolo?” he asked as they hurried
along.
“No, master, I was too busy myself to look round.”
“It was Beaufort himself; I ran him through, low down in the shoulder.”
Paolo uttered an exclamation of dismay.
“It cannot be helped now,” Hector went on, “but there will be no living
in Paris or even in France after this!”
Mazarin had not retired to bed when they reached his hotel.
“What now, monsieur?” he asked.
“We have had our second battle, your eminence, and it has been a serious
one. We were attacked by five-and-twenty ruffians; we slew some ten of
them. Then their leader, who had been keeping in the rear shouting to
them, seeing that his men were not likely to get the best of us, pushed
through them and himself attacked me. I wounded him somewhat seriously,
at least the thrust was just below the shoulder; and when I tell you
that it was Beaufort himself you will see that the matter is serious
indeed.”
“It could not be worse,” the cardinal said gravely; “you will have the
whole of the adherents of the house of Vendome banded against you, and
even your bravery could not long triumph over such odds. France is no
longer a place for you. Neither the queen's protection nor mine would
avail you aught.”
He took two or three turns up the room.
“In the first place, Monsieur Campbell, I will buy your fief back from
you; there are plenty who would gladly purchase it, or I can bestow it,
as it was bestowed upon you, upon someone who has served the crown well.
I will send the price to the banker who already holds money of yours
in his keeping. I should advise you to mount tonight and ride for the
seacoast. Tomorrow would be too late.”
He opened a cabinet.
“Here are a thousand crowns for your present expenses. Which road will
you take? I should advise you not to go to Calais; that is the line on
which, as soon as it is known that you have gone, they will pursue you,
and even did they not overtake you on the way they might reach Calais
before you could obtain a ship for England, for at present there is but
little trade between the countries, and that not openly.”
“I will make for Nantes, your eminence; there I can be joined by friends
from my chateau.”
A slight smile passed over the cardinal's face.
“'Tis no time for jesting,” he said; “but in truth I had intended to
find a rich heiress for you. But when I heard that two ladies were
staying at the castle I laid the project aside; and 'tis as well that I
did so, for, were you married to a princess, your life would not be safe
in France. Farewell, Monsieur Campbell, I have not so many friends that
I can afford to lose so true and stout a one, especially one upon whom
misfortunes have come through his good services to myself. I will send
a messenger to the governor of Nantes with orders that he shall in every
way forward your wishes as to your departure, as it is with my consent
and approval that you are sailing for England. Your devotion has brought
you into the gravest peril, and now it forces you to relinquish your
profession, in which you have so greatly distinguished yourself. Truly,
my friendship for you is genuine, and it cuts me to the heart that,
although I could uphold you against the most powerful nobles in open
enmity, I can do naught to save you from assassination. I trust some
day that I may see you again, but, should it not be so, remember that
I shall always feel myself your debtor; and should you have friends for
whom you may ask my protection be sure that I will for your sake do all
in my power for them.”
There was no doubting the real emotion with which Mazarin spoke.
“There is one thing that I forgot,” the latter said; “here is a pass for
you to leave the gates at once. You had better go out by the north, so
that they may think that you have ridden to Calais, and then take a wide
detour and ride for Nantes.”
Hector returned to the hotel.
“We must mount at once,” he said to the troopers; “my enemies have
failed twice, but they might not fail the third time, and by tomorrow
morning it is certain that the hotel will be watched. I have a pass to
issue out through the gate at once.”
While he had been away the troopers had bandaged each other's wounds,
and had packed their valises, for they thought it probable after what
had happened that their master would be obliged to fly.
As the horses were being saddled and brought out Hector saw the
innkeeper and paid him his bill.
“Monsieur,” he said, “I am going away on business of the cardinal's, and
he desires that none shall know that I have left; therefore I pray you
keep the matter secret as long as you can. It may be reasonably supposed
that after the fray in which we have just been engaged, we might well
keep our beds for a day or two.”
Going out in the courtyard, he gave a couple of crowns to the hostler.
“You are like to be asked tomorrow if we are still here,” he said. “Give
such answers as to lead them to believe that our horses are still in the
stalls.”
They mounted and rode rapidly through the streets to the northern gate,
which was immediately, upon Hector's handing the guard the cardinal's
pass, opened to them. To the surprise of the men, he turned off after
riding a few miles.
“Are you not going to make for Calais, master?”
“No, I am bound for Poitou. We will cross the Seine by the bridge of
boats at Nantes, ride down through Dreux and Le Mans. There we will
separate. I shall follow the Sarthe, strike the Loire at Angers, and
then go on to Nantes. You will cross the Loire at Tours, and then make
for la Villar. I shall take you, Macpherson and Hunter, with me. Paolo
will ride with the other two, and will be the bearer of letters from
me.”
Daylight was breaking when they crossed the bridge of boats. Hector
halted a mile from the river, keeping Paolo with him, and telling the
others to pass at intervals of a quarter of an hour apart.
“You will go first, Macpherson. You will ride south for an hour, and
then wait till the rest of us join you. It is like enough that as
soon as they find out that we have left they will send men off in all
directions to find out which way we followed, though doubtless the chief
pursuit will be directed towards Calais. I am afraid that it will not
be very long before they find we have left the hotel, for the landlord,
however well he may wish us, will not dare mislead any person of
consequence that Beaufort may send.”
They had, however, a much longer start than Hector expected, for early
the next morning ten of the cardinal's guards appeared at the hotel. The
officer in command of them told the innkeeper that, in consequence
of the tumult before his doors, in which, as he heard, some of those
lodging there had been concerned, he had orders to post his men round
the house, and to allow no one to enter or leave under any pretence
whatever until the cardinal himself had examined into the affair. These
orders were delivered in a loud voice before the servants of the inn,
but the officer privately assured the innkeeper afterwards that he would
be well paid for his loss of custom, and that it was probable that the
guard would be removed in a day or two. Thus Beaufort's emissaries were
not able to obtain news of what was passing within, and did nothing
until past noon, when it occurred to them that the cardinal had taken
this strange step of closing the inn in order to prevent its being known
that Hector and his followers had left Paris.
Men were at once sent off to the different gates of the city, and one of
these returning with the news that the north gate had been opened at one
o'clock in the morning and that six men bearing a pass from the cardinal
had ridden out, a party of twenty horsemen started out in pursuit, while
others were ordered to ride by all the different routes to Poitou,
in case, as was likely enough, Hector had ridden to his castle. The
fugitive, however, and his followers were all well mounted, and had
fourteen hours' start. They separated at Le Mans. Hector here wrote a
long letter to the Baronne de Blenfoix, and a shorter one to MacIntosh.
The latter he told only that his fief had again reverted to the crown,
and gave instructions that the steward should be ordered to return, from
the moneys he had in hand, three months' rent to every tenant, to hand
the balance to MacIntosh himself, and to hold possession of the chateau
and estate until he received orders from the cardinal himself.
MacIntosh was then, with Paolo, two troopers, and his own two sergeants,
to escort the baroness and her daughter to Nantes, if she decided to
go there. All arrangements were to be completed within twelve hours
of Paolo's arrival there. To the baroness he related briefly what had
passed.
“Therefore, as you see,” he said, “there is no course open for me but
to fly for England or Ireland, where I intend to settle. I trust, madam,
that you and your daughter will accompany me. Putting aside my respect
and, I may say, my affection for yourself, you will have understood from
what I said to you when last at la Villar, that I hope some day to make
your daughter Norah my wife, if I should be so fortunate as to obtain
her affections. How this may be I cannot say, but at any rate I trust
that you will return to England, and as I have ample funds you may be
assured that my first care will be to provide for your future.”
On arriving at Nantes Hector at once rode to the governor, and presented
the cardinal's letter to him.
“You may be assured, Colonel Campbell, that I shall carry out his
eminence's instructions,” he said, after perusing the cardinal's
letter. “I will send an officer down to the port with you to aid you
in obtaining passage, should there be a ship leaving for England, or to
take up a ship for your service.”
“I would rather the latter,” Hector said. “I may have ladies with me,
and so should wish to have plenty of accommodation.”
“I am also instructed,” the governor said, “to close the gate, in case
any party, followers of the Dukes of Vendome or Beaufort, or of any
families connected with them, arrive before you leave, and to grant them
no admittance until a messenger from the mouth of the river informs me
that you are fairly out at sea.”
“I am indeed obliged to his eminence for that order, sir; he did not
mention to me that he was giving it, but it will certainly save me from
much anxiety.”
As Hector was not disposed to haggle about terms, he had no difficulty
in hiring a vessel to carry them across the Channel. Twenty-four hours
after his arrival the party from the chateau rode in, and but half an
hour later fifty horsemen wearing the cognizance of Vendome galloped
up to the gate. They were headed by four or five gentlemen, one of whom
demanded angrily why the gates were shut.
“They are closed by order of the governor,” the officer in charge
replied.
“Tell the governor that the Count d'Erlon, with a party of gentlemen,
retainers of the Duke of Vendome, are here, and demand instant
admittance.”
Twenty minutes later the governor himself arrived at the gate. “I am
sorry, gentlemen,” he said, “that I am compelled to keep the gates
closed. I have an order from Cardinal Mazarin to that effect, and that,
coming from the first minister of France, I dare not disregard even if
the duke himself were with you. It would cost me my place, and
possibly gain me a cell in the Bastille; and, grieved as I am to refuse
admittance to such honourable gentlemen, still I must do so.”
“And for how long is this monstrous edict to remain in force?” the
leader of the party asked.
“That I am unable to say precisely, but I believe that I can open them
tomorrow morning.”
“You see, we were right, count,” another of the horsemen said. “The
description of the man who rode along here with two attendants tallies
with that of this Scot, and doubtless this order was brought by him
from Mazarin to enable him to get either by water away abroad or to his
chateau of la Villar.”
“Well, gentlemen, at any rate we have done our best, and though we must
have slain the fellow if we had overtaken him, I cannot say that I
am altogether grieved that he has escaped. His name is well known to
everyone. He did brave service to France under Turenne and Conde. We
learned from the messenger who brought the letter from Beaufort that he
killed de Beauvais in fair fight, wounded de Vipont, and disarmed the
Comte de Marplat, that at night he and five of his followers, though
attacked by some thirty ruffians from the faubourgs under Beaufort
himself, killed twelve of them outright, and that he himself seriously
wounded the duke. Well, there is nothing for us but to ride back to the
village we last passed through and wait there until tomorrow.”
So saying, he mounted his horse and galloped off with his party.
“Who could have thought when we parted last, Colonel Campbell, that we
should meet again under such greatly changed circumstances!” Madame de
Blenfoix exclaimed as Hector met the party as they alighted before the
principal inn of Nantes.
“It is a change, indeed,” he replied; “so great that I myself can hardly
realize it, and am not sure whether I am sorry or the reverse at what
has taken place.”
“I am very glad to hear you say so, as I feared that it would be a
terrible blow to you to give up the army.”
“I have hardly had time to think of it,” he said, “I have had so much
else to occupy my thoughts. Now, I pray you, enter the inn for a few
minutes; I have warned them to get a meal ready to be served at the
shortest notice, for I am anxious that no time shall be lost; everything
is ready for our embarkation.”
“Had we not best go aboard at once?” she said. “Your enemies might
arrive at any moment by what Paolo tells us.”
“The matter is not so pressing as I thought, madam, for the cardinal
sent orders to the governor that he is not to open the gates to any
armed party of friends of Beaufort or Vendome until I am fairly at sea.”
He went with the ladies to a private room he had secured.
“I must leave you for a few minutes,” he said, “while I have a talk with
MacIntosh and the others.”
“Well, old friend,” he said as he went out to where the little party
of Scotchmen were standing in a group, “what are your plans and wishes?
'Tis a pity now that I persuaded you to leave Paris and go down to
la Villar, but I did it for the best. I thought of you much as I rode
hither.”
“Do not trouble about me, colonel, I am by no means sorry at the change.
I was getting tired of the cabaret, and should soon have given it up
even had you not come to offer me the wardenship of your chateau. I have
chatted matters over with my two friends, and we have not yet agreed
whether to return to Scotland or to remain in France. At any rate we
shall go to Paris first; my money is there all in good keeping, together
with the two years' payment for the cabaret. Are you thinking of going
to Scotland yourself, colonel?”
“Certainly not to Scotland, I have no friends there, and from all that
I have heard the people are so hard and bigoted, so full of their
religious differences, that I should feel sorely out of place with them.
“Well, MacIntosh, as soon as I am settled in England I will have a
letter conveyed to you in some way at the address of The Scottish
Soldier. Wherever I am, there will be a home always open to you, and
glad indeed I shall be to have you near me. My four troopers are going
to accompany me. I have talked the matter over with them, and have
promised that I will find a house with a small farm for them on any
estate I may purchase, where they can do such an amount of work as
pleases them, or that they can remain in my service on the present
conditions. You can make the same offer in my name to your two comrades.
After all, things are not so settled across the water that I can
dispense with old friends on whom I can rely. Paolo, of course, goes
with me, and will be my right hand.”
“I will think it all over, Hector, and maybe one of these days I and
the other two may knock at your door. It is hard if seven old fellow
soldiers could not end their days happily and quietly together.”
As soon as the meal had been eaten Hector went to say goodbye to the
governor, and heard how Vendome's men had been refused entrance. After
thanking him for the courtesy that he had shown him, he returned to the
inn. As the party would require horses on landing, and there was plenty
of room on board the vessel that he had engaged, Hector shipped the
three horses that Conde had given him, and four others for the use of
his men, and after a hearty farewell to MacIntosh on his part and that
of the ladies, they went on board, and a few minutes later the sails
were set and the vessel started down the river. The wind was favourable,
and they made a fast voyage down to the sea. Before they reached the
mouth of the river, however, Hector had ascertained to his satisfaction
that Norah O'More returned the feeling that he felt for her.
“I have loved you,” she said, “from the moment when you came to us as
our saviour from death on the summit of the turret; and though as time
went on I did not venture to think that you, who had so fair a future
before you, would ever think of the girl who with her mother you had so
nobly entertained and treated, I should never have loved any other man
to the end of my life.”
The voyage was without incident, and five days after leaving Nantes they
arrived at Plymouth. Here Hector hired a house, and when the ladies were
comfortably settled he left them in charge of Paolo and two of the men,
and rode to London accompanied by the others. Here he called upon the
banker whose address Mazarin had given him, and on sending in his name
was shown into the room in which private business was transacted.
“You have certain moneys of mine in your hands, Mr. Wilson?”
“I have had fifty thousand crowns for the past three years and have put
them out on good security, so that the sum stands at present in my books
at sixty-four thousand crowns. Three days ago I received from Cardinal
Mazarin bills to the amount of one hundred and fifty thousand crowns,
being, he said, due to you for the surrender of the fief of la
Villar, and for other services rendered to him. The cardinal is a good
paymaster,” he added with a slight smile at seeing Hector's surprise
at the news, “but it was plain from his letter to me that he considered
that the value of your services was greatly in excess of the sum, large
as it is, that he sent, especially as they had brought great misfortunes
upon you, and had forced you to abandon France, and give up your
profession, in which, he said, your prospects of gaining the highest
rank were of the brightest. Now, sir, if there are any services that I
can render you I am at your disposal. You will naturally wish to invest
your money in some way, and, though I say it myself, I know of no one
who could lay it out to better advantage.”
“You may help me assuredly,” Hector said, “for I am an entire stranger
in England. I wish to purchase an estate, but have no idea how to set
about it, while, doubtless, you are acquainted with many such domains at
present for sale. I may say that I will on no account purchase an estate
which has been confiscated by parliament on account of its owner being
loyal to the crown. Charles II may, and I believe will, return and mount
the throne, and these estates will then beyond doubt be restored to
their former owners, therefore I will have nought to do with such
property.”
“You could not choose a better time for laying out your money in land,”
the banker said. “Great numbers of the nobles and gentlemen of England
have been killed or are in exile; many, again, who still hold their land
are well nigh ruined by the moneys they spent in the king's service, and
would gladly sell now could they obtain anything like a fair value for
their estates. I know of a score at least of such properties which are
so deeply mortgaged that the owners can scarce afford to live in their
own homes, and would gladly take a sum that would suffice to pay off the
mortgage and give them the wherewithal to live upon, either abroad or
in Virginia, to which colony many loyal gentlemen have already gone
to settle. If you will call tomorrow I will give you a list of such
estates, with their size, the amount of their revenues, and the price at
which their owners would, I know, be glad to sell, for I and some of my
friends have been approached by them with that view.”
Hector spent the next three weeks in visiting eight of the estates that
seemed suitable and were all situated in counties near London. Finally
he settled upon one in Berkshire, which was of considerable size and
with a stately house in a fair position. This he purchased, and then,
returning to Plymouth, his marriage with Norah was celebrated there, and
he, with his wife and Madame de Blenfoix and his five followers, rode
down into Berkshire and took possession of the estate, with which all
were delighted. The troopers, instead of accepting the house he offered
them, preferred to remain in his service, and Paolo was installed as
majordomo of the household. Six months later MacIntosh and his two
comrades came over.
The former declined Hector's offer to take up his abode at the house.
“No, colonel, I have an abundance for myself and my two comrades, and
would rather be near you, where we can live in our own fashion, and give
trouble to no one.”
“Well, if you will not come here, MacIntosh, there is a house a quarter
of a mile away which will, I think, suit you well. It is not a large
place, but is a comfortable one, and has been used as the house of the
steward of the estate. As I shall be my own steward it is vacant, and
will, I think, suit you well. It is furnished, so that you and your
comrades can move in when you like, though the longer you stay with us
the better we shall be pleased.”
A fortnight later MacIntosh and his comrades moved in, and there,
when not occupied with their duties, one or other of the troopers was
generally to be found. Hector often dropped in, and one day laughingly
said that the house ought to be renamed The Scottish Soldier.
Until the Restoration Hector kept aloof from London, but when Charles II
mounted the throne of his fathers he went up, and was presented at court
by one of the many English gentlemen whom he had known in France, where
they had sought refuge with the queen when the royal cause was lost
in England. He did not, however, repeat the visit very often. He was
perfectly happy in his country life, and never once regretted the chain
of events that had forced him to give up his life of adventure and
excitement and to settle down peacefully in England.
THE END