* * * * *
Mr. Osbaldistone's first impulse seemed to be to preserve his dignity.
But nature was too strong for him.
"My son--my dear son!" he murmured.
The head of the firm of Osbaldistone and Tresham had returned from
Holland sooner than was expected, and with the resources which he had
gathered there, and being now in full credit, he had no difficulty in
solving the financial problems which had weighed so heavily upon the
house in his absence. He refused, however, every tender of apology from
MacVittie and Company, settled the balance of their account, and
announced to them that that page of their ledger, with all the
advantages connected with it, was closed to them forever.
Soon after the home-coming of Frank Osbaldistone from the Highlands and
his reconciliation with his father, the great Jacobite rebellion of 1715
broke out, in which the greater part of the Highlands burst into a
flame, as well as much of the more northerly parts of England. Sir
Hildebrand led out his sons to battle--all, that is to say, with the
exception of Rashleigh, who had changed his politics and become a spy on
behalf of the government of King George.
But it was not the will of Fate that the name of Osbaldistone should
make any figure in that short and inglorious campaign. Thorncliff was
killed in a duel with one of his brother officers. The sot Percie died
shortly after, according to the manner of his kind. Dickon broke his
neck in spurring a blood mare beyond her paces. Wilfred the fool died
fighting at Proud Preston on the day of the Barricades; and his
gallantry was no less that he could never remember an hour together for
which king he was doing battle.
John also behaved boldly and died of his wounds a few days after in the
prison of Newgate, to the despair of old Sir Hildebrand, who did not
long survive him. Indeed he willingly laid himself down to die, after
having first disinherited Rashleigh as a traitor, and left his much
encumbered estates to his nephew, Frank Osbaldistone.
Mr. Osbaldistone the elder now took an unexpected view of his son's
prospects. He had cared nothing for his family in the past--indeed,
never since he had been expelled from Osbaldistone Hall to make way for
his younger brother. But now he willingly spent his money in taking up
the mortgages upon the Osbaldistone estates, and he urged upon Frank the
necessity of going down at once to the Hall, lest Rashleigh should get
before him in that possession which is nine points of the law.
So to Osbaldistone Hall went Frank once more, his heart not a little
sore within him for the good days he had spent in it, and especially
because of the thought that he would now find there no madcap Die
Vernon to tease and torment him out of his life.
First of all, to make his title clear, Frank had been desired to visit
the hospitable house of old Justice Inglewood, with whom Sir Hildebrand
had deposited his will. As it chanced, it was in that good gentleman's
power to give the young man some information which interested him more
than the right of possession to many Osbaldistone Halls.
After dinner in the evening Frank and the Justice were sitting together,
when all of a sudden Squire Inglewood called upon his companion to
pledge a bumper to "dear Die Vernon, the rose of the wilderness, the
heath-bell of Cheviot, that blossom transported to an infamous convent!"
"Is not Miss Vernon, then, married?" cried Frank, in great astonishment,
"I thought his Excellency--"
"Pooh--pooh! His Excellency and his Lordship are all a humbug now, you
know," said the Justice; "mere St. Germains titles--Earl of Beauchamp
and ambassador plenipotentiary from France, when the Duke Regent scarce
knew that he lived, I daresay. But you must have seen old Sir Frederick
Vernon at the hall, when he played the part of Father Vaughan?"
"Good Heavens," cried Frank, "then Father Vaughan was Miss Vernon's
father?"
"To be sure he was," said the Justice, coolly; "there's no use keeping
the secret now, for he must be out of the country by this
time--otherwise no doubt it would be my duty to apprehend him. Come, off
with your bumper to my dear lost Die!"
So Frank fared forth to Osbaldistone Hall, uncertain whether to be glad
or sorry at Squire Inglewood's news. Finally he decided to be glad--or
at least as glad as he could. For Diana, though equally lost to him, was
at least not wedded to any one else.
Syddall, the old butler of Sir Hildebrand, seemed at first very
unwilling to admit them, but Frank's persistence, together with Andrew
Fairservice's insolence, made a way into the melancholy house. Frank
ordered a fire to be lighted in the library. Syddall tried to persuade
him to take up his quarters elsewhere, on the plea that the library had
not been sat in for a long time, and that the chimney smoked.
To the old man's confusion, however, when they entered the room, a fire
was blazing in the grate. He took up the tongs to hide his confusion,
muttering, "It is burning clear now, but it smoked woundily in the
morning!"
Next Frank ordered Andrew to procure him two stout fellows of the
neighbourhood on whom he could rely, who would back the new proprietor,
in case of Rashleigh attempting any attack during Frank's stay in the
home of his fathers.
Andrew soon returned with a couple of his friends--or, as he described
them, "sober, decent men, weel founded in doctrinal points, and, above
all, as bold as lions."
Syddall, however, shook his head at sight of them.
"I maybe cannot expect that your Honour should put confidence in what I
say, but it is Heaven's truth for all that. Ambrose Wingfield is as
honest a man as lives, but if there be a false knave in all the country,
it is his brother Lancie. The whole country knows him to be a spy for
Clerk Jobson on the poor gentlemen that have been in trouble. But he's a
dissenter, and I suppose that's enough nowadays."
The evening darkened down, and trimming the wood fire in the old library
Frank sat on, dreaming dreams in which a certain lady occupied a great
place. He chanced to lift his eyes at a sound which seemed like a sigh,
and lo! Diana Vernon stood before him. She was resting on the arm of a
figure so like the portrait on the wall that involuntarily Frank raised
his eyes to the frame to see whether it was not indeed empty.
But the figures were neither painted canvas nor yet such stuff as dreams
are made of. Diana Vernon and her father--for it was they--stood before
the young man in actual flesh and blood. Frank was so astonished that
for a while he could not speak, and it was Sir Frederick who first broke
the silence.
"We are your suppliants, Mr. Osbaldistone," he said; "we claim the
refuge and protection of your roof, till we can pursue a journey where
dungeons and death gape for me at every step!"
"Surely you cannot suppose--" Frank found words with great
difficulty--"Miss Vernon cannot suppose that I am so ungrateful--that I
could betray any one--much less you!"
"I know it," said Sir Frederick, "though I am conferring on you a
confidence which I would have been glad to have imposed on any one else.
But my fate, which has chased me through a life of perils, is now
pressing me hard, and, indeed, leaving me no alternative."
At this moment the door opened, and the voice of Andrew Fairservice was
heard without. "I am bringing in the candles--ye can light them when ye
like--'can do' is easy carried about with one!"
Frank had just time to rush to the door and thrust the officious rascal
out, shutting the door upon him. Then, remembering the length of his
servant's tongue, he made haste to follow him to the hall to prevent his
gabbling of what he might have seen. Andrew's voice was loud as Frank
opened the door.
"What is the matter with you, you fool?" he demanded; "you stare and
look wild as if you had seen a ghost."
"No--no--nothing," stammered Andrew, "only your Honour was pleased to be
hasty!"
Frank Osbaldistone immediately dismissed the two men whom Andrew had
found for him, giving them a crown-piece to drink his health, and they
withdrew, apparently contented and unsuspicious. They certainly could
have no further talk with Andrew that night, and it did not seem
possible that in the few moments which Andrew had spent in the kitchen
before Frank's arrival, he could have had time to utter two words.
But sometimes only two words can do a great deal of harm. On this
occasion they cost two lives.
"You now know my secret," said Diana Vernon; "you know how near and dear
is the relative who has so long found shelter here. And it will not
surprise you, that, knowing such a secret, Rashleigh should rule me with
a rod of iron."
But in spite of all that had happened, Sir Frederick was a strict and
narrow Catholic, and Frank found him more than ever determined to
sacrifice his daughter to the life of the convent.
"She has endured trials," he said, "trials which might have dignified
the history of a martyr. She has spent the day in darkness and the night
in vigil, and never breathed a syllable of weakness or complaint. In a
word, Mr. Osbaldistone, she is a worthy offering to that God to whom I
dedicate her, as all that is left dear or precious to Frederick Vernon!"
Frank felt stunned and bewildered when at last they retired. But he had
sufficient forethought to order a bed to be made up for him in the
library, and dismissed Syddall and Andrew with orders not to disturb him
till seven o'clock in the morning.
That night Frank lay long awake, and was at last dropping over to sleep
when he was brought back to consciousness by a tremendous noise at the
front door of Osbaldistone Hall. He hastened downstairs only in time to
hear Andrew Fairservice bidding Syddall stand aside.
"We hae naething to fear if they come in King George's name," he was
saying; "we hae spent baith bluid and gold for him."
In an agony of terror Frank could hear bolt after bolt withdrawn by the
officious scoundrel, who continued to boast all the while of his
master's loyalty to King George. He flew instantly to Diana's room. She
was up and dressed.
"We are familiar with danger," she said with a sad smile. "I have the
key of the little garden door. We will escape by it. Only keep them a
few moments in play! And dear, dear Frank, again--for the last time,
farewell!"
By this time the men were on the stairway, and presently rapping on the
library door.
"You robber dogs!" cried Frank, wilfully misunderstanding their purpose;
"if you do not instantly quit the house, I will fire a blunderbuss upon
you through the door!"
"Fire a fool's bauble," returned Andrew Fairservice; "it's Clerk Jobson
with a legal warrant--"
"To search for, take, and apprehend," said the voice of that abominable
pettifogger, "the bodies of certain persons in my warrant named, charged
of high treason under the 13th of King William, chapter third."
The violence on the door was renewed.
"I am rising, gentlemen," said Frank, trying to gain as much time as
possible; "commit no violence--give me leave to look at your warrant,
and if it is formal and legal, I shall not oppose it."
"God save great George our King," cried Andrew Fairservice, "I telled ye
that ye would find no Jacobites here!"
At last the door had to be opened, when Clerk Jobson and several
assistants entered. The lawyer showed a warrant for the arrest of Diana
Vernon, her father,--and, to his surprise, of Frank himself.
Clerk Jobson, evidently well-informed, went directly to Diana's chamber.
"The hare has stolen away," he said brutally, "but her form is still
warm. The greyhounds will have her by the haunches yet."
A scream from the garden announced that he had prophesied too truly. In
five minutes more Rashleigh entered the library with Diana and her
father, Sir Frederick, as his prisoners.
"The fox," he said, "knew his old earth, but he forgot it could be
stopped by a careful huntsman. I had not forgot the garden gate, Sir
Frederick--or, if the title suits you better, my most noble Lord
Beauchamp!"
"Rashleigh," said Sir Frederick, "thou art a most detestable villain!"
"I better deserved the name, my Lord," said Rashleigh, turning his eyes
piously upward, "when under an able tutor I sought to introduce civil
war into a peaceful country. But I have since done my best to atone for
my errors."
Frank Osbaldistone could hold out no longer.
"If there is one thing on earth more hideous than another," he cried,
"it is villainy masked by hypocrisy!"
"Ha, my gentle cousin," said Rashleigh, holding a candle toward Frank
and surveying him from head to foot, "right welcome to Osbaldistone
Hall. I can forgive your spleen. It is hard to lose an estate and a
sweetheart in one night. For now we must take possession of this poor
manor-house in the name of the lawful heir, Sir Rashleigh Osbaldistone!"
But though Rashleigh braved it out thus, he was clearly far from
comfortable, and especially did he wince when Diana told him that what
he had now done had been the work of an hour, but that it would furnish
him with reflections for a lifetime.
"And of what nature these will be," she added, "I leave to your own
conscience, which will not slumber forever!"
So presently the three prisoners were carried off. Syddall and Andrew
were ordered to be turned out of the house, the latter complaining
bitterly.
"I only said that surely my master was speaking to a ghost in the
library--and that villain Lancie--thus to betray an auld friend that has
sung aff the same Psalm-book wi' him for twenty years!"
However, Andrew had just got clear of the avenue when he fell among a
drove of Highland cattle, the drivers of which questioned him tightly as
to what had happened at the Hall. They then talked in whispers among
themselves till the lumbering sound of a coach was heard coming down the
road from the house. The Highlanders listened attentively. The escort
consisted of Rashleigh and several peace-officers.
So soon as the carriage had passed the avenue gate, it was shut behind
the cavalcade by a Highlandman, stationed there for the purpose. At the
same time the carriage was impeded in its further progress by some
felled trees which had been dragged across the road. The cattle also got
in the way of the horses, and the escort began to drive them off with
their whips.
"Who dares abuse our cattle," said a rough voice; "shoot him down,
Angus!"
"A rescue--a rescue!" shouted Rashleigh, instantly comprehending what
had taken place, and, firing a pistol, he wounded the man who had
spoken.
"_Claymore!_" cried the leader of the Highlanders, and an affray
instantly engaged. The officers of the law, unused to such prompt
bloodshed, offered little real resistance. They galloped off in
different directions as fast as their beasts would carry them.
Rashleigh, however, who had been dismounted, maintained on foot a
desperate and single-handed conflict with the leader of the band. At
last he dropped.
"Will you ask forgiveness for the sake of God, King James, and auld
friendship?" demanded a voice which Frank knew well.
"No, never!" cried Rashleigh, fiercely.
"Then, traitor, die in your treason!" retorted Mac-Gregor, and plunged
his sword into the prostrate antagonist.
Rob Roy then drew out the attorney Clerk Jobson from the carriage, more
dead than alive, and threw him under the wheel.
"Mr. Osbaldistone," he said in Frank's ear, "you have nothing to fear.
Your friends will soon be in safety. Farewell, and forget not the
Mac-Gregor!"
* * * * *
"_And that_," I said, "_is all!_"
But I was instantly overwhelmed by the rush of a
living wave.
"No, no," cried the children, throwing themselves
upon me, "you must tell us what became of Rob
Roy--of the Bailie--of Dougal!"
These demands came from the boys.
"And if Diana married Frank, or went to the
convent?" interjected Sweetheart.
"Well," I said, "I can soon answer all these
questions. Sir Frederick died soon after, but
before his end he relieved his daughter from her
promise to enter a convent. She married Mr. Frank
Osbaldistone instead."
"And lived happy ever after?" added Maid Margaret,
who was at the "fairy princess" stage of
literature.
"Except when she got cross with him," commented Sir
Toady, an uncompromising realist, with pessimistic
views on womenkind.
"And Rob Roy held his ground among his native
mountains until he died."
"Tell us about the Bailie," said Hugh John; "I
liked the Bailie--he's jolly!"
I told him that he was far from being alone in that
opinion.
"The Bailie," I answered, "lived, as the Maid says,
happily ever after, having very wisely married his
servant Mattie. He carried on all the northern
affairs of Osbaldistone and Tresham, now a greater
commercial house than ever, and lived to be Lord
Provost of the city of Glasgow."
"Let Glasgow flourish!" cried Sir Toady,
spontaneously. And the audience concluded the
fourth tale and last from _Rob Roy_ with a very
passable imitation of a Highland yell.