according to the strictest rules laid down for breaking a deer, as
this operation was called, and on proceeding to slit up the slough,
to the great wonder of every one, it was discovered that the old man
was right. The heart was indeed so very small that it might very
well have been said to have been naught. Murdoch was dismayed for
a moment at an omen so very inauspicious, which, in his own mind,
he felt was more than enough to overthrow all the fair prognostics
which his mother had so evidently drawn from his success. The Lady
herself was equally disconcerted.
"Naught, naught!" whimpered Sir Allan. "'Tis an ill omen for thee,
boy. Thou shalt ne'er fly with an eagle's wing--nay, nay! Aye,
aye! Thou art ever doomed to gobble i' the muddy stagnant waters like
a midden-gander.--Uch, aye! och, hey!"
"The fiend take the old carl for his saying!" whispered Murdoch
angrily aside to his mother.
"Amen!" replied the Lady Stradawn bitterly, in the same under
tone. "But fear ye not, boy, thou shalt wear his eagle wing, aye,
and sit in his chair to boot, ere long."
This dialogue apart was unobserved by any one, and both son and mother
speedily recovered their self-possession. The lady very cunningly
set herself, straightway, to turn the weak and dribbling stream of
Sir Allan's thoughts from the subject which then occupied them,
to some other, which was to her less disagreeable at the moment,
and she easily succeeded.
Patrick Stewart's attention was attracted from all this superstitious
trifling, as well as from what followed it, by again observing the
garnet brooch, which appeared in the bosom of the Lady Stradawn. His
thoughts were entirely occupied with it, and his eyes were from
time to time rivetted on it. At length it seemed as if Murdoch had
somehow remarked his fixed gaze, for a private sign appeared to pass
from him to his mother, after which she pleaded a sudden faintness,
and left the hall, to return no more that night, and her son soon
afterwards followed her. Patrick Stewart's mind remained filled with
strange speculations regarding the jewel, until the night wore late,
and he began to think anxiously about his brother Sir Walter. Having
done the last offices of attention to his father for the evening,
he secretly desired Dugald Roy to follow him.
"Dugald," said he, "I am, most unaccountably, unhappy about thy
master. Surely, if all had been well with him he should have been here
ere this? I cannot rid my mind of the idea that there is something
amiss with him. He rested not, as thou knowest, when I was missing,
and it would ill become me to sleep when he is absent. Let us go seek
for him, then, without delay."
Dugald Roy readily assented; and both of them having dighted themselves
well up for turmoil, as well as for toil, they secretly left the
tower of Drummin. All that night they travelled, and by daylight they
had got into the range of mountains, and of forests, where they had
reason to hope for tidings of Sir Walter. They searched through every
part of the wooded side of that hill where he had last disappeared,
and they visited every human dwelling within a great range around
it, but all without obtaining the slightest intelligence regarding
him. Disappointed, and disheartened, they had returned nearly as far
as where the village of Tomantoul now stands, on their way home in
the evening, when they met with Dugald Roy's brother Neil.
"What brought thee here, man?" demanded Dugald; "and what a fiend
gives thee that anxious face?"
"Holy Saint Michael, but it is well that I have foregathered with you
both!" replied Neil. "You must take some other road than that which
leads to Drummin, Sir Patrick. Believe me, it is no place for you at
this present time."
"What, in the name of all the saints, hath happened to make it
otherwise?" demanded Patrick Stewart.
"Cannot ye speak out at once, ye Amadan ye, and not hammer like a
fool that gate?" cried Dugald impatiently.
"Patience! patience!" said Neil; "patience! and ye shall know all
presently. In the first place, then, Master Murdoch says that Sir
Walter is murdered."
"Murdered!" cried Patrick, in an agony of anxiety; "My brother Walter
murdered!--Where?--when?--how?--by whom?--Oh, speak, that I may hasten
to avenge him! But, no!--'tis impossible!--speak!--I have mistaken
thee--surely it cannot be!"
"Master Murdoch says that it is true," replied Neil. "But the worst
of all is, that he hath accused thee, Sir Patrick, of having done the
deed, with an arrow, somewhere in the wood on the hill of Dalestie."
"Merciful Saints!" exclaimed Patrick; "can he indeed be such a
villain? But who will believe so foul and unnatural a calumny? Oh,
Walter, my brother, my brother! Heaven above knows that thy life was
ten thousand times dearer to me than mine own!"
"Nay," replied Neil, "he hath called all the clansmen who were
there to witness and to support the strong suspicions which he hath
industriously raised against thee."
"What argument hath he against me?" cried Patrick Stewart impatiently.
"He says that the men who were present can testify that you and your
brother, Sir Walter, went into the wood together," replied Neil;
"and that Sir Walter hath not been seen since; and then, he contends,
that the sudden flight which you made from Drummin, under the cloud
of night, is enough to show that you have taken guilt home to your
conscience."
"And is this all?" demanded Patrick Stewart.
"Nay," replied Neil, "there was more stuff of the same kind, by the use
of which he hath contrived so to persuade them with his wily tongue,
that they are all clamorous against thee. Nay, he hath even warped
the feeble judgment of Sir Allan himself to the same belief."
"Serpent that he is!" cried Patrick Stewart. "But let me hasten home to
confront this vile traducer. My brother!--my brother Walter!" continued
he, bursting into tears. "My brother Walter gone!--and I accused of
his murder!--Oh, my brother!--my dear brother! Heaven above knows how
willingly I would have laid down my life to have saved thine! Nay,
how willingly would I now lay it down at this moment, were it only to
secure to me the certainty that thou art yet alive! The very thought
that it may be otherwise is agony and desolation to me. But let us
hasten to confront this villainy. Let us hasten to revenge! For the
love of Heaven, let us hasten home, Dugald!"
"Nay, my good master," said Dugald weeping, "for if this sad tale be
true as to Sir Walter's death, other master than thee, I fear me,
that I now have none. Neil says well that Drummin is no place for
thee to-night, with so sudden and tumultuous a clamour excited against
thee. Thine innocence will avail thee nothing. Even the innocence of
an angel would naught avail against the diseased judgments of men,
with minds so poisoned and so possessed. Be persuaded to go elsewhere,
until the false and weak foundations of this most traitorous accusation
fail beneath it, and the mists drop from men's eyes. Who can say for
certain that my beloved master, Sir Walter, is dead? I cannot believe
in so great a calamity. What proof is there that he is dead? There
is no news that his body hath been found."
"Nay," replied Neil, "he is only amissing as I said."
"Thou dost well advise me, Dugald," said Patrick Stewart after a
moment's thought. "There is, as thou say'st, no proof that my brother,
Sir Walter, is dead. It is most reasonable to believe that this may,
after all, be nothing but a foolish or malicious surmise. My best hope,
nay, my belief is, that it is founded on naught else; and may Heaven
in its mercy grant that it may prove so. I will take thine advice. I
will not go to Drummin at present, but I shall straightway bend my
steps towards the Castle of Curgarf."
"Then shall I and Neil attend thee thither, Sir Knight," said Dugald;
"for next to Sir Walter Stewart do I assuredly owe thee fealty and
service."
Sir Patrick and his two attendants now turned off in the direction
of Curgarf, and the day was so far spent that the sun was setting,
as they were passing over the ridge of the country lying between the
Aven and the Don. The trees of the forest there grew thinly scattered
in little stunted patches. Sir Patrick was walking a few paces in front
of the two brothers, musing as he went, when he was suddenly surprised
by a shower of arrows falling thickly on and around him. One stuck
in his bonnet, another buried itself harmlessly in the folds of his
plaid, a third pierced his sandal and slightly wounded his foot; and,
whilst a fourth struck fire out of a large stone close to him, two
more fell short of him among the heather near him. In an instant his
bow and those of his attendants were bent, and their eyes being turned
towards the place whence the shafts had flown, they descried some men
lurking beneath one of the straggling patches of dwarf pine trees. To
have stood aloof with the hope of shooting at them successfully would
have been fatal, for the archery of Sir Patrick and his attendants
could have done nothing against men so ambushed, whilst the Knight
and his people would have been a sure mark for their traitorous foes.
"On them, my brave Dugald!" cried Sir Patrick Stewart, drawing his
sword, and rushing towards the enemy.
Dugald Roy, and his brother, Neil, were at his back in a moment. Before
they could reach the point against which their assault was directed,
several arrows were discharged at them. But so resolute, and so
spirited an attack had been so little looked for by those who shot
them, that they were too much appalled to take any very steady aim,
so that all of them fell innocuous. Seeing Sir Patrick and his two
attendants so rapidly nearing their place of concealment, the villains
thought it better to turn out, that they might receive their onset on
ground where they could all act at once. Six men accordingly appeared
claymore in hand, and as Sir Patrick continued to hurry forward,
he now took the opportunity of speaking hastily to Dugald and Neil,
who were advancing to right and left of him.
"Draw an arrow each," said he, "and when I give you the word, stop
suddenly, and each of you pick off the man opposite to you, and leave
me to take my choice of the rest.--Now!"
The unlooked for halt was made just as the assassins were preparing
to receive the on-comers on the points of their swords. The aim was
sure and fatal. Three men fell--and on rushed Sir Patrick and his
two people with a loud shout. The three, who yet stood against them,
were panic-struck, and, ere they could well offer defence, they were
also extended writhing among the heather, in the agonies of death;
and the whole matter was over in less time than it has taken for
me to tell of it. But, uncertain whether the partial covert of the
pine-patch might not still shelter some more enemies, they rushed
in among the trees, brandishing their reeking blades. Up started a
youth from among some low brushwood, and ran off like a hare. Neil
was after him in a moment, and up to him ere he had fled twenty
paces. Already he had him by the hair of the head, and his claymore
was raised to smite him, when Patrick Stewart called to his follower
to stay his hand. Neil obeyed, and granted the youth his life; but
when he brought him in as a prisoner, what was the Stewart's surprise
when he discovered that he was the same individual whose life he had
spared in the Catterane's den.
"Ha!" exclaimed Sir Patrick; "said I not well that I questioned the
wisdom of sparing thy life when we last met, thou vermin? What hast
thou to urge, that I should show mercy to thee now, Sir Caitiff?"
"Oh, mercy, mercy, Sir Knight!" exclaimed the youth, piteously. "Trust
me, I came not hither willingly. I had no hand in this treacherous
ambush against thy life."
"Appearances are woefully against thee," said Patrick Stewart; "yet
would I not willingly do thee hurt, if thou be'st innocent. But this
is no convenient time nor place to tarry for thy trial. So bring him
along with thee, Dugald. We shall take our own leisure to examine
him afterwards; meanwhile, take especial care that he escape not."
Sir Patrick Stewart's reception at Curgarf may be easily guessed
at. He told of the providential escape he had made from assassination
by the way; but he thought it better, as yet, to say nothing of
the mysterious disappearance of his brother, Sir Walter, or of the
traitorous accusations against himself, to which it had given rise. His
resolve to be silent as to this matter was formed, because he had by
this time reasoned himself into the firm persuasion that his brother's
reappearance would speedily make his own innocence as clear as noonday.
He was next morning happily seated in the hall, now talking with the
old Lord of Curgarf on one subject, and again taking his opportunity
of whispering to the Lady Catherine on another, when he suddenly
recollected the brooch he had given her. It was not in her bosom.
"Where are the two twined hearts?" said he to her, smiling. "Fear not,
dearest--I am not jealous."
"Thou hast no cause for jealousy, dear Patrick," replied the lady;
"and yet, I grieve to say, that I have not the jewel. When the
Catteranes hurried me off from here, and just as they stopped for
a little time to make up a litter, that they might the more easily
carry me, one who appeared to have a certain command over them,
but whose face or person I could not see in the obscurity which then
prevailed, snatched it from my bosom, whilst affecting to fasten my
arryssade more firmly around me. Nay, look not so serious, dearest
Patrick! surely thou dost not doubt me in this matter?"
"Doubt thee, my Catherine!" said Sir Patrick, kissing her hand with
fervour; "sooner would I doubt mine own existence;--thou art pure
virgin truth itself! Think no more of it. Thou shalt have another
and a richer one anon. But say, dearest! why should we longer delay
to set our own very two hearts in that indissoluble golden knot,
with which the sacrament of our holy church may bind them together,
so as to form a jewel, of which neither robber nor Catterane can
rifle us, and which cannot be rent asunder save by the iron hand of
death. I have thy father's permission to move thee to shorten that
cruel interval which thou hast placed between me and happiness."
In such a strain as this, did he continue to urge his suit, until
it was at last successful; and, to his great joy, it was ultimately
arranged, with the consent of all parties, that the marriage should
take place on the second day from the time I am now speaking of. The
bustle of preparation began in the Castle the moment the circumstance
was announced; and it immediately spread far and wide everywhere
around it, and went on incessantly day and night. Joy was everywhere as
universal among the clansmen as their devotion to the Lady Catherine,
the bride, and their admiration of the merits of the bridegroom, could
make it. The day at length arrived. The Castle was crowded with all the
friends and retainers of the family, who came pouring in to witness
a ceremonial so interesting to them all. The Priest had arrived; the
Castle chapel had been set in order; the bridal-chamber had been dight
up; and the feast prepared; and every soul was astir to contribute,
so far as in them lay, to the general felicity, as well as to share in
it. The old Lord of Curgarf seemed to have grown young again. Arthur,
the Master of Forbes, was all life and raillery. Already had the
whole company been assembled within the hall. All the men-at-arms
within the Castle had crowded in thither. Even the old warden at the
gate had lowered his portcullis, and made every thing secure with
bolt, bar, and chain, so that he might safely leave his post to the
charge of their stubborn defences. The blushing bride, arrayed in the
richest attire, had been led in, attended by her blooming maidens;
and the movement towards the chapel was about to be made, so that
the ceremony might go on, when suddenly a shrill bugle blast from
without the gate made the very Castle walls resound again.
"Go some of ye, and see who that may be who summons us so rudely,"
said the Lord of Curgarf.
"Murdoch Stewart, and a party of the Clan-Allan, are at the gate,
craving admittance," said the messenger, on his return.
"Son Arthur," said the Lord of Curgarf, "get thee down quickly,
and give Murdoch Stewart of Clan-Allan, the brother of this our
son-in-law to be, instant entry. Let the gate be opened to him,
aye, and to all his people, dost thou hear? It was kind in him
thus to come, on the spur of the occasion," continued the old Lord,
addressing Patrick, after his son had gone with his attendants to
obey his will--"It was kind in thy brother to come thus unasked on
the spur of the moment. Would that Sir Allan, thy father himself,
could have been here."
The court-yard and the stair now rang with the clink of armed men,
and Arthur, the Master of Forbes, entered, ushering in Murdoch Stewart,
proudly attired, and followed by a formidable band of the Clan-Allan,
whose flaring red tartans were strongly contrasted against the more
modest green of those of the Clan-Forbes. To the no small surprise
of his brother Patrick, he no longer wore that appearance of youthful
carelessness and indifference, under the mask of which he had hitherto
disguised his true character. His bearing was now manly and lofty,
suited to the command of the Clan-Allan, which he now seemed to have
assumed. His salutation to the Lord of Curgarf was grave, dignified,
and courteous; and, as way was made for him, he advanced, with the
utmost self-possession, into the middle of the hall.
"I rejoice that I have arrived thus, as it seems, in the nick of time,"
said he, looking around him, and bowing as he did so, but without
once allowing his eyes to rest on his brother, who stood fixed in
silent astonishment at what he beheld.
"So do we all rejoice," replied the Lord of Curgarf. "Had we but
known that our bridal might have been thus honoured by the house of
Clan-Allan, on so short a warning, trust me thou shouldst not have
lacked our warmest bidding, as thou hast now our warmest welcome."
"Welcome or not, my Lord," replied Murdoch Stewart, with a respectful
reverence, "thou wilt surely thank me for this most unceremonious
visit, when thou shalt know the object of it. I come to save the
honour of thy house from foul disgrace: would, that in so doing,
I could likewise save the honour of that which gave me birth! But
although, in saving thee and thy house from dishonour, the good name
of that of Clan-Allan must assuredly be tarnished, it shall never be
said of me, that I preserved it by falsehood or infamous concealment."
"Of what wouldst thou speak?" demanded the Lord of Curgarf. "I do
beseech thee, keep me, and keep this good company, no longer in
suspense."
"Then, my good Lord," replied Murdoch, solemnly, "much as it pains me
to utter it, and much as it must pain thee, and all present, to hear
it, I must tell thee, that strong suspicions are abroad, that mine
eldest brother, Sir Walter Stewart, hath been most foully murdered,
and that he, on whom thou wert now on the very eve of bestowing thine
only daughter, is the foul murderer, who took an elder brother's life,
to make way for the gratification of his own ambitious and avaricious
desires. The circumstances are so strong against my unfortunate brother
Patrick, that all agree that no one else could have been the murderer."
"All!--all!--all!--all! was echoed from the stern Clan-Allans, at
the lower end of the hall.
"Holy saints defend us!" exclaimed the Lord of Curgarf, sinking into
a chair.
"'Tis false! oh 'tis all false, father!" cried the trembling Catherine
Forbes, rushing forward to assist her father.
"Infamous traitor!" cried Patrick Stewart; "lying and infamous
traitor! Where are the proofs on which you found so foul and false
an accusation?"
"Would, for the credit of our poor house, that it were false!" said
Murdoch, mildly. "But it is impossible to conceal, that thou wert the
last person seen in our poor brother Walter's company. Thou wentest
up the wood with him, with three arrows in thy belt. Thou camest back
shortly afterwards without him. One of thine arrows was gone. Thou
gavest reasons for the want of it which proved to be false; and our
dear brother Walter hath never been since seen."
"He is guilty! He, and no one else, is the murderer!" cried the men
of Clan-Allan hoarsely.
"Woe is me!" said the distracted Lord of Curgarf, springing from
his chair with nervous agitation; "the circumstances are indeed
too suspicious!"
"Father!--father!--father, he is innocent!" cried the frantic Lady
Catherine Forbes, holding the old lord's arm.
"Sister," cried the Master of Forbes, taking the Lady Catherine
affectionately by the hand, and speaking to her with great
feeling--"Dearest sister, this is indeed an afflicting trial for thee;
yet, be of good courage--I have no fears of the result. Patrick Stewart
cannot be guilty of the foul and cruel deed of which he has been
accused. We must have the matter sifted to the bottom; the truth must
be brought out; and, as his innocence must be thereby established, all
the evil that can happen will be but the short delay of your nuptials,
till he be fairly and fully cleansed from these wicked charges."
"I am sent by my father," said Murdoch Stewart--"I am sent by my
father, and that most unwillingly, to demand his son Patrick as a
prisoner. Forgive me, my good Lord of Curgarf, for thus daring to
execute his paternal order under your roof.--Men of Clan-Allan,
seize and bind Patrick Stewart!"
"Hold!" cried Dugald Roy, in a voice like thunder--"Hold, men of
Clan-Allan! Lay not a hand upon him, to whom, if my dear master Sir
Walter be indeed gone, ye must all soon, in the course of nature,
swear fealty as your chieftain. He is guiltless of my beloved master's
murder, though murdered, I fear, he hath most foully been. But here is
one who can tell more of this cruel and wicked deed. Come hither boy,
and tell us what thou may'st know of this mysterious matter."
Dugald Roy then led forward the youth whom he had brought prisoner
to Curgarf, of whose very existence Sir Patrick Stewart had lost
all recollection, amidst the tumult of joy in which he had been so
continually kept by his approaching nuptials. The Lady Catherine
Forbes started with surprise when she beheld him; but the countenance
of Murdoch Stewart turned as pale as a linen sheet at the sight of him.
"What hast thou to say, young man, to the clearing up of this dark
and cruel mystery?" demanded the Lord of Curgarf.
"My Lord, I saw Sir Walter Stewart of Clan-Allan murdered," said the
youth in a tremulous voice. "I saw him shot to the death by the arrow
of Ewan Cameron, one of the band of Catteranes."
"How camest thou to have been in any such evil company?" demanded
the Lord of Curgarf.
"Trusting to have mercy at your hands, my Lord, I will tell my whole
story as shortly as I can, if thou wilt but listen to me," replied
the youth. "I was prentice to a craftsman in the town of Banff, a
man who wrought in gold and silver. Being one day severely chidden
by my master for some unlucky fault, the devil entered into me,
and I resolved to be revenged of him. Having become known to the
captain of a certain band of Catteranes, I stole my master's keys,
and gave them to him, so that he and his gang were enabled to rifle
the goldsmith's stores of all his valuables. In dread of punishment I
fled with them to their den in the hills, where they afterwards kept
me in thrall to do their service. The lady, thy daughter, can tell
thee that I was there when she was brought in by them, and had not
Sir Patrick Stewart left me bound when he spared my life, they would
have certainly taken it on their return, in their rage and fury at her
escape; but, fortunately, I was lying quite out of their way at the
moment, and was not discovered till they had somewhat cooled. Finding
that their retreat had been found out, they hastily abandoned it,
and dispersed themselves through the hills. On the day that followed
after that, we were all collected together to meet our captain; and
after two days more, a breathless messenger came early in the morning
to tell him something which was kept secret from all else. There were
but few of the band with him at the time; but these were ordered to
arm on the sudden; and even I, who had never been called out on any
expedition until that day, was commanded to arm like the rest.