hesitation,--"he received it very scurvily.--'Tell the proud Stewart,'
said he, 'that though he may be lord of the land, I am the king as
well as the priest in mine own chapel.'--And so he straightway began
the holy service, but rather, methought, as if he had been dighting
himself for single combat, than for prayer, and in a manner altogether
so irreverent, that the few people who were there, with faces full
of dismay, quietly arose and left the chapel, as if some wicked thing
had ta'en up the priest's surplice in mockery."
"By the Rood, but they were right if they so thought!" cried Sir
Walter, quickening his pace--"He is a vile obscene wolf that hath
crept like a thief into the fold.--But I'll speak to him anon."
The rate at which Sir Walter now strode down the hill, kept his
astonished brother Patrick, and the whole party at their full bent. The
trees grew thinner as they came nearer the level valley, and by and
bye they ceased altogether, so that a full view was obtained of the
haugh at the bottom. There the Priest of Dalestie was seen leaving
the chapel to go homewards.
"There he goes!" cried Sir Walter--"there he goes stalking along with
an air and a gait, that might better befit a proud prince of the earth,
than Heaven's humble messenger of peace, as his profession ought to
have made him.--What, ho, Sir Priest!--I would speak with thee."
The Priest started--looked suddenly back--halted, and drew himself
up--then turned again, and moved a few paces slowly onwards, as if
irresolute what he should do.--Again he halted, and again he moved on,
whilst Sir Walter's footsteps were hurrying fast up to him.--At length,
he seemed to have made up his mind to abide that parley which he now
saw he could not escape, and, turning sharp round to face the Stewart,
he planted himself firmly in the way before him.
"What would'st thou with me, Sir Knight?" demanded he, in a haughty
and determined tone.--"After the rude and unwonted message which
thou hast just dared to send to me, a holy minister of the Church,
methinks that thou canst dare to approach me now, for no other purpose,
than to sue penitently for pardon and absolution at my hands."
"A holy minister of the Church!" exclaimed Sir Walter.--"A minister
of the holy Church, if thou wilt--but thyself most unholy.--My sins,
God pardon me!--are many.--But albeit that I am at all times ready
to kneel in confession, and in humble penitence, before that true and
godly servant of Christ, the good and pious father, Peter of Dounan,
or any other such as he, I will never bend the knee before one, whose
wickedness has been the dishonour and reproach of the district, ever
since it hath been cursed with his presence, and who yet profanely
dares most impiously to approach the holy altar."
"Brother! brother Walter!" cried Patrick Stewart, endeavouring to
moderate Sir Walter's growing ire; "what madness is this! Think of
the sacred character he wears, however little common fame may give
him credit for supporting it. Think how----"
"Silence, I say, Patrick!" cried Sir Walter, in an authoritative tone,
which he had never before assumed to his brother. "Again I say, thou
knowest not the secret reasons which move me at this moment. That
foul swine, whose sensual snout hath been in every man's dish, and
who hath uprooted that very vineyard which hath been confided to his
care, must be forthwith cast out. He must be no longer permitted to
live. Seize him and bind him!"
"Lay not a hand on me, good sirs, if you would avoid the thunders and
excommunications of the Church," cried the priest, now no longer proud,
but trembling, and in an humble tone.
"Seize him and bind him, I say," cried Sir Walter. "If there be any
one man among the Clan-Allan here--if there be one Clan-Allan Stewart,
I say, who in his conscience believes that he doth not deserve to die
by fire, that man hath my leave to sit apart, and bear no faggot to
the pile that is to consume him. Who among you is there that doth not
know his misdeeds? Not a man answers. Then is he condemned by all. Let
each man, then, get him to the wood, and bring a faggot of the driest
fuel, and let him forthwith be brent, and his ashes scattered to the
winds, so that the earth may be no longer polluted with his carcase,
and that even the very memory of him may perish!"
"Brother, brother!" cried Patrick Stewart, in a tone of entreaty;
"do not bring upon yourself the terrors of the Church. His fame,
indeed, is none of the best; but, whatever be his sins, bethink thee
that 'twere better to let him be tried by that sacred tribunal to
which he is naturally amenable."
"By the holy Rood, which this traitor to his crucified Master has
so wickedly profaned, he shall not live an hour," cried Sir Walter,
rising in his rage. "I am but the executioner of God's justice on him;
and he shall die, be the consequences what they may. See!--see how
busily the fellows toil! Their hearts are in the work. The labour is
a pleasure to them. Not a man hath stood aloof from it, far less hath
any one dared to speak in his cause. Why, then shouldst thou speak
brother Patrick? Though thou knowest not all, thou knowest quite
enough to know that he hath well earned the fate I have awarded
him. But though thou art ignorant of all that now impelleth me, I
tell thee that I have enough to satisfy bishop or pope, if need were,
that I am now doing the Church good service. But, be that as it may,
I trust the time will never come when the chieftain of Clan-Allan
shall not dare to deal with all within the bounds of Stradawn,
whether churchman or layman, as his pleasure may dictate. Ha! see,
the pile is already heaped high, and now they are preparing to set
fire to it; that shows no want of good will; and see, of their own
accord, they prepare to drag him to it!"
"Then, brother, though I am the younger, I must needs interfere,"
cried Patrick Stewart, rushing forward to throw himself between the
men of the clan, and their terrified victim; "such a deed as this
must never be done by thee, my brother."
"Patrick, dispute not mine authority," cried Sir Walter, his rage now
beginning to get the better of him; "my father's weakness hath made
me thy chieftain. Stand back I tell thee! Stand back! place thyself
not between me and my just vengeance, or even the name of brother
shall not hinder me from dashing thee to the ground."
"Nay, stand you back!" cried Patrick, covering the priest with
his body, whilst the clansmen retreated from the prisoner at his
word. "Walter, I would save this wretched man for another and a calmer
tribunal; and, in thus saving him, I would save thee, my brother,
from----"
"Stand from before his polluted carcase!" cried Sir Walter, collaring
Patrick, and casting him from him with a force that threw him several
yards away from the spot where they were contending, and prostrated
him headlong on the ground. "Now, Clan-Allan! now do your duty to
your chieftain! I'll see that my sentence--aye, and your sentence,
is duly carried through!"
"Mercy, most noble knight!" cried the wretched man, as they dragged
him along to the pile, deadly pale, and quailing with fear--his pride
all gone, and the terrors of a horrible death upon him. "Mercy! O
spare me! spare me, most noble Sir Walter Stewart! I confess that I
have deeply sinned against you and yours; I confess that----"
"Silence, caitiff!" cried the stern Sir Walter, loudly and
hastily interrupting him; "I am no priest--I want none of thy
confessions. Confess thyself inwardly to thine outraged Maker. Thou
shalt have time for that. Down on thy knees! confess thy sins in
secret to Him, and pray to Him for mercy in the next world, for here
all laws, human and divine, tell me that thou shouldst have none;
and thou shalt have none from me."
The miserable wretch, trembling, haggard, and conscience-stricken,
knelt down at a short distance from the great heap of dry and decayed
timber which they had prepared. By this time it was lighted, and it
soon began to blaze up so high as widely to illuminate the broad faces
of the wooded hills on both sides of the valley, arousing them from
that gloom which had been already gradually deepening over them into
shadow, since the sinking of the sun. Neither his countenance nor his
eyes were directed heavenwards; yet his lips moved, more like those
of some one uttering an incantation, than of a penitent seeking of
Heaven to be shriven of his sins. Full time was allowed him. But the
stern Sir Walter Stewart stood over him, as if jealous lest his fears
or his agony of mind, might goad him on to utter some secret aloud
before the clansmen, which he wished to see consumed, and for ever
annihilated with all that was mortal of him who held it. And when
he thought that he had given the wretched man enough of licence, he
waved his hand--turned himself aside for a moment--heard one piercing
shriek--and when he looked again the myriads of brilliant sparks that
were rising into the air from the fall of a heavy body among the fuel,
sufficiently proved to him, that the miserable object of his wrath
had been thrown into the very midst of the burning heap. Another, and
a fainter cry, made Sir Walter again turn involuntarily towards the
pile. There the head appeared, with the face contorted with torment,
and fearfully illuminated. The body reared itself up for a moment,
as if by one last struggling effort of life, and these half-stifled
words were dolefully heard,--
"Walter Stewart!--THY GRAVE IS NEAR!"
The Clan-Allan men stood appalled. Again the figure sank. More broken
and decayed wood was thrown on the pile, and they continued to heap it
up until all signs of a human form were obliterated. Then it was that
Sir Walter, calling his followers into a ring around him, swore them
solemnly, on their chieftain's sword, to eternal secrecy; and then,
sick at the thought of the work they had done, chieftain and clansmen
slowly, and silently, left the place and began to wend their way down
the glen. Sir Walter thought of his brother Patrick as he went--he
halted, and blew that bugle sound, which was well known as a private
signal between them. But there was no note of reply. Taking it for
granted, therefore, that the stern act of justice, which circumstances
had compelled him to see done on the Priest, had been too much for the
sensitive mind of Patrick even to contemplate, and that, therefore,
he had hurried away to avoid witnessing the horrible spectacle,
Sir Walter pensively and moodily moved homewards.
But the cause of the muteness of Patrick Stewart's bugle, was very
different from that which his brother believed it to be. At the
time that he had been dragged from before the Priest, and thrown so
violently to a distance, Sir Walter had been too much excited by rage
to notice how he fell, or indeed whether he fell at all. Nor in the
fearful work in which they were all so intently, and with so much
good will engaged, did any of the Stewarts of Clan-Allan once think
of him more. Had Sir Walter known that his beloved brother had been
stretched bleeding, and senseless, on the ground, by his rash hand,
and that he was now leaving him to perish without help, his mind,
during his homeward journey, would have been even less tranquil than
his reflections on the past event permitted it to be. The truth was,
that Patrick Stewart's bonnet, having been driven off by the furious
force with which Sir Walter had hurled him from him, his unprotected
head came into contact with a large stone, that projected out of the
surface of the meadow-sward, with a sharp point, from which he received
so severe a cut, and so rude a shock, that he never moved after it,
but lay there as if he had been dead, in the midst of a pool of blood
that flowed from the wound. How long he had remained in this situation,
he had no means of guessing, but when his senses returned to him,
he found himself seated, with his back leaning against the trunk of
a great tree, near a fountain that welled out from the side of the
hill. By the blaze of a bit of moss fir that a man held in his hand,
he perceived that there were several people around him, who seemed
to be busied in administering to him. One especially was anxiously
supporting his head, staunching the blood that was still discharging
itself from the cut in his temple, and holding a cup to his lips.
"How fares it with thee now?" enquired this person eagerly; "how
fares it with thee, my dear friend?"
"Arthur Forbes of Curgarf!" said Patrick faintly.
"Holy St. Macher be praised that thine eyes are opened, and that I
once more hear thy voice!" cried Arthur Forbes, "I had mine own fears
that thou wert done for. What, in the name of all that is marvellous,
hath befallen thee? Hast thou chanced to come into the hands of the
Catteranes, who are said to harbour sometimes among these mountains?"
"Where am I?" said Patrick, turning his eyes around him, his brain
still swimming in confusion. "Ah! that fire yonder!"
"Aye, that fire!" said Arthur Forbes eagerly, "what knowest thou of
that fire?"
"Nay nothing," replied Patrick shuddering.
"By the Rood, but it brent boldly when we first saw it from the far
hill-side yonder," said Arthur, "though it hath now fallen somewhat
lower. Knowest thou at all who kindled it? We heard a bugle blast
come faintly up from the bottom of the valley, as we came first within
sight of it."
"It was not burning when I fell," replied Patrick guardedly.
"How did you fall, I pray you?" demanded Arthur Forbes.
"As I was hurrying through the haugh," replied Patrick, "my foot
tripped in the twilight against something in the grass, and I was
thrown forward, with so much force, that it is no wonder I was
stunned."
"Your head must have struck upon some sharp stone," said Arthur Forbes,
"that gash in your temple is a very ugly one, and it still bleeds
considerably. Let me bathe it for you."
"The ice-cold water is most reviving to me," said Patrick, sitting up;
"I am much better now. I think I am almost strong enough to walk."
"Shall we help thee down to the Priest's house?" demanded Arthur;
"that, as thou knowest, is the nearest dwelling."
"The Priest's house!" said Patrick, with an expression of horror
which he could not restrain.
"Nay 'tis no wonder that thou should'st shudder at the very mention
of that reprobate," said Arthur Forbes; "he is a scandal to the very
name of Priest."
"I would rather go anywhere than to the Priest's house," said Patrick
Stewart.
"Nay," said Arthur Forbes, "it is a thousand to one that we should
find him abroad on some of his unseemly nocturnal pranks; but you
might at least repose thee for a time in his dwelling."
"I should find no repose under the Priest's roof," said Patrick Stewart
quickly. "I would rather try to make the best of my way to Drummin."
"Thou shalt never essay to go to Drummin to-night," said Arthur
Forbes. "And, now I think on't, why should you not go over the hill
with me to Curgarf? My sturdy fellows there shall carry you. And then,
when you are there you know," continued he, sinking his voice to a
whisper into Patrick's ear, "my sister Kate shall nurse thee."
"Your proposal is life to me," replied Patrick, in the same tone. "I
gladly accept your kind offer. But as to loading your poor men with
the weight of my carcase, there will be no occasion for that. Now
that my head is bound up, I feel quite strong, and I know I shall
get better every step of the hill I travel."
"I thought that Kate's very name would be a potent balsam for thy
wound," whispered Arthur Forbes again. "Thou wilt be better in the
hands of Kate, my friend, than in those of the Catteranes. Lucky
was it for thee, truly, that those knaves did not find thee in thy
swoon. They were the people, no doubt, who kindled yon rousing fire,
from which they were probably driven away by our first appearance on
the hill. Thou wert lying scarcely half a cross-bow shot from the
very spot where they must have been making merry, and if they had
but stumbled on thee by accident, their cure for thy wound would have
been a dirk-point. Holy Saint Michael, what an escape thou hast made!"
The way to Curgarf was long and tiresome enough, for they had to cross
over the very summit of the mountain-ridge--that, I mean, which now
divides us from the water of Don. But Patrick Stewart bore the fatigue
of the walk better than any one could have expected, and there was no
doubt that the prospect of seeing Catherine Forbes very much improved
his animal powers. He was already known to his friend's father,
who received him hospitably, though rather haughtily. The old Lord
of Curgarf's coldness of carriage towards him was to be attributed
to the suspicion he entertained of that which was in reality true,
that a secret attachment existed between Patrick Stewart and his
only daughter Catherine. This he did not wish to encourage for many
reasons. The Clan-Allan Stewarts--to say nothing of what he considered
their questionable origin--were a new race in the neighbouring strath;
and although he had never been actually at war with them, there had
yet been many petty grievances and heart-burnings between them and
his people. These had not in the least shaken the friendship that had
accidentally arisen, during their boyhood, between Patrick Stewart and
Arthur Forbes; and you all know, gentlemen, that the affections of a
woman's heart are but little swayed by any such circumstances. The
bonny blue eyes of Catherine Forbes sparkled, and her bosom heaved
with delight, when she saw Patrick Stewart enter the hall of Curgarf,
though she was compelled to keep down her emotions, and to receive
him as a mere acquaintance. Certain stolen glances did, however, pass
between them; and when Arthur mentioned the accident which had led
to his bringing his friend to the castle, and made him exhibit his
wound, Catherine had an opportunity of giving way, in some degree,
to her feelings, without the risk of being chargeable with any thing
more than that compassion naturally to be expected from a lady, even
towards a perfect stranger, who came under such circumstances. Patrick
was by this time satisfied that the wound was of no great moment. But
his love for Catherine, and the opportunity which it thus happily
afforded him of being under the same roof with her, made him very
cautious in contending that it was not severe, and he had no objection
to admit, when he was much pressed, that the pain he suffered from
the contusion which his head had received, was very considerable.
Patrick retired to his chamber that night, his mind filled with the
lovely image of Catherine Forbes, his eyes having done little else,
during the evening meal, than carefully to collect and treasure
every minute beauty of her fair countenance, and graceful person,
so as to deepen the lines of that portrait of her which had been for
some time engraven on his heart. But fond as he was of dwelling upon
so much loved an object, he felt it difficult to keep possession
of her image, or to prevent it from being driven from his memory,
by the frequent recurrence of that horrible scene, of which he had
witnessed so much, previous to his being rendered unconscious, as well
as to overcome the distressing recollection of his brother Walter's
violence towards himself, and he found it a very difficult matter, to
control his mind so far, as to prevent his imagination from sketching
out the revolting circumstances of the catastrophe that followed,
with a degree of detail, and in colours, scarcely less appalling than
those of the dreadful reality.
Patrick was next morning blessed with a short private interview with
Catherine Forbes. It was short indeed, but it was long enough to
give time for the ingenuity of lovers to arrange a plan for a more
satisfactory meeting. It was agreed between them, that they should
separately steal out in the evening, to a grove of ancient pine
trees near the Castle, where, if I mistake not, they had met with
one another before, with the sanction of Arthur Forbes. There they
hoped for leisure and privacy enough to enable them more fully to
open their hearts to each other, and to talk of their future hopes
and fears. Contented with this arrangement, Patrick submitted to the
confinement which was imposed upon him in his character of an invalid,
and spent the day in basking silently in the sunshine of his lady's
eyes, in conversing with his friend Arthur as the confidant of their
loves, and in doing all that in him lay to thaw the icy politeness of
the old Lord of Curgarf. An earnest desire to make one's self agreeable
to another, will generally succeed, in some degree, in the long run;
but Patrick's success with the old Lord was much beyond what he could
have believed or expected.
"Truly thou art a pretty fellow, Patrick!" said Arthur Forbes jocularly
to him, at the first private moment which he chanced to catch. "Judging
by the proximity of the place where you were found lying last night,
to the fire which had been kindled by the Catteranes, there can be no
doubt that you must have fallen among thieves. This being the case,
I, like the good Samaritan, pick thee up by the wayside, bring thee
here in thy wretchedness, pour wine and oil into thy wounds, and see
thee well fed and lodged; and how dost thou repay me, I prythee? Why,
not contented with carrying off my poor love-sick sister's heart,
thou art likely to run away with the old man's too."
"I rejoice to hear that I have any such chance," replied Patrick;
"I had feared that thy father's coldness towards me was invincible."
"Nay, promise me not to interfere with my birthright, by taking away
half my father's lands with Kate, and I will tell thee what he said
of thee but half an hour ago."
"I should be too happy to have thy treasure of a sister, with nothing
but the sandals her fair feet tread on," said Patrick, with enthusiasm.
"Tush, man!" replied Arthur Forbes, "be assured thou shalt have
her some day or other; aye, and a bit of land, and some good purses
of broad pieces with her to boot. But hear what the Lord of Curgarf
said,--'Arthur, do you know that friend of thine hath a mighty pleasant
manner with him; yea, and his discourse is more worth listening to than
a young man's talk usually is: moreover, he hath a certain noble air
withal. I remember that, when I was a child, I was once taken to visit
the old Earl of Athol. His appearance made so strong an impression on
me, that I think I see him yet, and that Patrick Stewart is the very
image of his progenitor.' There is for you, my gallant friend! As to
finding thee agreeable, I marvel not much at that; for other people,
both men and women too, have been before him in making that wonderful
discovery; and then, seeing that thou didst listen so well to his talk,
and agree with him in every thing he propounded, his finding that
your conversation was good was all natural enough. But to discover
that you bore so strong a resemblance to the old Earl of Athol--the
person whom he is ever ready to cite as the pattern of every thing
that was graceful and pleasing in days long gone by, and now never
to be matched again--ha! that was something indeed to give thee a
great stride into the citadel of his affection."
"Be the breach through which I may be allowed to march in thither,
produced how it may," said Patrick Stewart, "I am not sorry at thine
intelligence. But, much as I love the good Lord of Curgarf's converse,
I must freely tell thee that I would fain slip away from it, for
some half hour or so, before supper to-night, unperceived by him, to
exchange it for that of thy sweet sister. We have not had above five
words of private conference together since I entered the Castle. So
pray have the charity to keep thy worthy father in talk, while the
Lady Catherine and I are out, for a brief space, on an evening walk."
"A pretty use thou wouldst put me to, truly!" said Arthur Forbes,
laughing. "But to pleasure thee, thou shalt be obeyed."
The lovers waited with no little impatience for the hour which was
to yield them the desired meeting. When it at length arrived, they
stole out at different moments, and went by different ways to the
trysting spot. No one but a lover can fully estimate the delight of
such a stolen interview as this was. They felt it deeply; and the
only difficulty they had was in estimating the lapse of time. The
surly toned bell, that pealed from the tower of the Castle at some
distance, warned them to separate, ere, by their calculation, they
had been more than a few short minutes together.
"Must we then part so soon?" said Patrick, fondly. "How swiftly the
moments have flown!"
"I dare not tarry one instant longer," said the Lady Catherine;
"my father, you well know,----"