prominent mark of royal favour, but it was now impossible to decline
it. Cochran received his Majesty's command, to hold himself in
readiness to accompany Sir Walter Stewart and his lady to Stradawn,
with secret delight, though he appeared to do so with that servile
submission merely, with which he always bowed to the royal will, and
for which he made himself ample amends by the arrogance with which
he domineered over others. To Sir Walter Stewart he took especial
care to be always smiling, pleasant, and accommodating; and although
he complained, upon this occasion, that this northern journey was a
severe obstruction to the prosecution of those architectural plans
on which he pretended to rest his fame, he went down to Drummin with
the intention of spinning out his visit to as great a length as he
could decently make it extend.
Sir Walter Stewart, for his part, had no sooner fairly set his foot
on his own threshold, than a thousand recollections connected with
the tower of Drummin, and its neighbouring scenery, crowded upon
his mind. This return to the abode of his early days, recalled the
remembrance of his young affections, and the contrast which thus
arose, in spite of him, between those which he felt persuaded were
bestowed on a creature who was innocent, natural, and true, and those
which the sacrament of the holy church now demanded of him, as due to
her whom he had so much reason to fear might turn out to be artful,
artificial, and false, awakened certain unpleasant qualms within him,
that he had failed to make that reparation to Alice Asher, which he
once had it in his power to have made; and that now, by some strange
witchery and infatuation, he had been led to shut the door against
that, and his own peace of mind, by one rash and irrevocable act. A
direful dread now fell upon him, that he was about to be severely
punished for his neglect of one, whose only sin might, with more
justice, have been said to have been his--as it was incurred for him,
and whose devotion to him, and whose whole conduct since her first and
only error, had so well merited a different treatment at his hands. He
could not trust his mind to think how much happier he might have now
been with her. Nor did the image of his gallant Charley fail to haunt
his imagination, and to fill him with self-reproaches. Now it was that
his soul winced under the wholesome, though sharp stings of conscience,
and the fair visions of ambition, which had so continually flitted
through his brain, lost their sunshine, and disappeared for a time,
amid the dull and damp mists of self-dissatisfaction that settled
down upon it. He felt that though the trial must necessarily be a
painful one, it might probably be productive of a certain degree
of after-relief to him, if he could procure an interview with Alice
Asher. A vow existed between them--a vow that she had extracted from
him, immediately previous to the birth of Charley Stewart, that they
should never again meet, except in the event of an approach to her on
the part of Sir Walter, for the purpose of offering her his hand in
marriage. That, alas, was a reason which he could not urge now! But,
on the ground of having to speak to her on the subject of her son,
he sent for the good priest who was her confessor, and procured
from him a dispensation from their mutual vow, so far as to admit
of one short meeting between them. It took place; and, as you may
easily imagine, their conference was of the tenderest, though purest
description. It had more in it of tears than of smiles. Reproaches
were there, it is true; but they came not from the meek, penitent,
and forgiving Alice Asher; they were numerously and largely heaped by
Sir Walter Stewart on his own devoted head. The parting was a scene
which I could not venture to describe; and far less could I convey
to you the slightest notion of that accumulation of anguish which
choked up the heart of Sir Walter, after having had this opportunity
of more truly and perfectly knowing the full value of that gentle
and devoted spirit, the innocent confidence of whose youth he had
so abused, and whom he had so recklessly excluded from his bosom,
in order to take home thither that cold and selfish heart which now
legally possessed it. Full of such agonizing thoughts as these, he had
as yet got but a short way on his return from the dwelling of Alice,
when his musing walk was suddenly broken in upon by Cochran, who came
unexpectedly out upon him from a side-path that emerged from the wood,
into that along which he was then going.
"That cottage, so prettily perched up yonder among the wood, on the
brow of the hill you have this moment descended, belongs doubtless
to some favourite forester of thine, Sir Walter," said Cochran;
"marry, the fellow is lodged in a palace, compared to those dens,
scarcely fit for swine, in which the rude and savage inhabitants
of this northern wilderness are seen to burrow themselves, like
urchins, and which are hardly to be distinguished from the sterile
and heath-covered soil on which they stand."
"It is a neat cottage," replied Sir Walter hastily; and, immediately
changing the subject, he went on talking rapidly, and at random,
until he got rid of Cochran, on their arrival at Drummin; and, from
the very dread of all farther impertinent questioning, he threw himself
upon a horse, and rode away up the valley, under the pretence of some
urgent business, and with the vain hope of shaking off his griefs.
"Now," said Cochran, as he freely entered the Lady Stradawn's private
apartment; "Now, I can tell thee, that my suspicions are this very
day verified. Now thou mayst have no grudge that thou hast at last
restored to me some of that love, which was mine of right, and which
should have always been mine, had not the scrannel pipe of this Sir
Walter so unfairly whistled it from me."
"What wouldst thou insinuate?" demanded the lady, in some degree
of surprise.
"I would only delicately hint, that thy husband Sir Walter is more
in tune with another, than with thee," replied Cochran, with a coarse
laugh. "I have told thee so before, and now I have proof of the truth
of what I told thee."
"Proof, saidst thou?" cried the lady keenly. "What proof, I pray thee?"
"Did I not tell thee I had found him out?" said Cochran. "Did I not
tell thee that he visits the cottage that stands on the brow of
the wooded hill yonder? I have this day proved that I was right,
for I dogged his steps thither, saw him enter it, and watched him
patiently, for two good hours, till he again issued forth. Nay, I know
more. I know that she who inhabits it is an ancient sweetheart of his;
but though an ancient lover, she is young,--aye! and moreover she is
beautiful; for as I hovered about the place some two or three days ago,
I chanced to get such a glimpse of her, as satisfied me of all that."
"Base villain!" cried the lady, in a rage; "I will be revenged of him,
and of her too.--But," added she, again assuming the command of her
feelings, "I shall take mine own time."
"Thou canst not be too speedy with thy vengeance as regards thy
husband, if thou wouldst have me to help thee," said Cochran,
with a vulgar leer--"for, hark ye!--a secret in thine ear--I must go
to-morrow--my time hath been long enough uselessly wasted here,--thanks
to thine obduracy; and then this building is so far advanced towards
completion, as hardly longer to require my master eye, so that little
apology now remains for me for longer stay. Nor do I now will it much,
seeing that it is of none effect; so I shall e'en hasten back to the
court, to look after this earldom of Mar, which the King hath been
talking of bestowing upon me, as a successor, much more worthy of it,
than his traitorous brother who held it. 'Tis well for me to be on
the spot; yet couldst thou but think of giving me back that love,
of which this false Sir Walter so wickedly robbed me, I might still
contrive to stay awhile to help thee to thy revenge."
"My vengeance must be deeply satiated ere any such passion as love can
find room in this heart of mine," said the lady, with eyes that darted
lightnings. "At this moment it is overcharged with hate, which nothing
can diminish till it is poured out in one vast flood of vengeance on
those who have produced it. Go then, my good lord, for to that title
thy fortune doth now most securely lead; go--and push it boldly on
to the pinnacle of that glory to which it so clearly points. When
we meet again, we may have better will, as well as better leisure,
to unfold our mutual thoughts and wishes. Meanwhile, believe that mine
are ever for thy welfare, and for that honourable advancement to thee,
to which the elegance of thy person, as well as thy superiority in
mind and manners, doth so well and amply entitle thee."
"Thanks, lady! thy discernment is great and penetrating!" cried
Cochran, whose vanity was so blown up by her extravagant praises
of him, that, ere she wist, he, by way of an act of gallantry, and
in a manner quite suited to the vulgarity of his character, threw
his great coarse arms around her delicate neck, and snatched a rude
embrace. But though it brought the colour indignantly into her face,
she had too much cunning to resent it.
When Sir Walter Stewart returned home that evening, Cochran told him
that he could be his guest no longer, seeing that he had received
certain communications from his Majesty, which demanded his immediate
departure from Drummin for the court. Sir Walter was by no means much
afflicted at this intelligence. He exerted himself, however, to do
Cochran all manner of hospitality, and to shew him every kindness, and
every mark of respect in his power, ere he went. He arose early next
morning, therefore, to perform the last duties of a host to a parting
guest, and, after Cochran and his escort were mounted, he walked by
the side of the architect's horse, talking with him by way of civil
convoy, for more than a mile of the road, as in those days it was the
usual custom of all hosts to do. As they were going up a little hill
above Drummin, called the Calton, they espied a hawk perched upon the
very top of a tall tree. Sir Walter had a birding piece in his hand,
with which he had been for some time wont to practise.
"There is a fine fair shot for thee to try thy new-fangled weapon
against, Sir Walter," said Cochran, pointing to the hawk; "I wager
thee five gold pieces that thou canst not bring him down."
"The distance is great," said Sir Walter, pointing his piece at the
bird; "but I accept your wager."
"He is safe," said Cochran.
"No!" cried Sir Walter exultingly, after discharging his piece, the
bullet from which brought the bird fluttering to the ground. "He's
gone, an' he were a king!"
"A good shot, truly!" said Cochran, treasuring up Sir Walter's
careless expression for his own future use and purpose. "Marry,
but that is a dangerous piece of thine, Sir Knight. Take good care
how you handle it, else may it perchance do thee a mischief. But I
will keep thee no longer trudging thus by my horse's side; so again
I bid thee commend me to thy lady." And so saying, he rode away more
abruptly than might have very well beseemed any man of better breeding.
Cochran finished his journey to Stirling, where the King then was,
and immediately presented himself at court. He was gratified by the
reception he met with from James, who manifested no little joy at
the return of his creature. But all mankind are misers, when taking
account of the favours of the great, on whom they depend. Unmindful
of the large ones they receive themselves, they look only with envious
eyes on those, however small, that may be bestowed upon others. Thus it
was with the unrighteous Haman, and thus it was with Cochran; for, all
the kindness which the King showed to him, in this his first interview,
became as nothing, when weighed against the eagerness which his Majesty
manifested in his inquiries after Sir Walter Stewart. These were as
gall and verjuice to Cochran. In vain did he try to make trifling and
oblique insinuations against the Knight of Stradawn, his royal master
was in no humour to listen to them at the time, and they were each of
them in succession lost to his ear, in the eagerness with which he
put his next question. James put question after question as to all
the particulars of his occupation at Drummin, as well as regarding
the progress of the work, and it was only when he had come down to
the day of his departure, that the insidious favourite contrived to
catch the royal attention, by relating the story of the birding-piece.
"Sir Walter Stewart is undoubtedly a pretty gentleman, and of
very various accomplishment," said Cochran, "Aye, and few know his
qualifications better than he does himself."
"He knows not his own accomplishments better than we do," replied
the King, in rather a dissatisfied tone.
"Pardon me," replied Cochran, obsequiously, "I never ventured to say
that he was vain of them. But your Majesty's perception and judgment
are unrivalled. Yet much as you have seen and observed of Sir Walter
Stewart, I may venture to question, whether you have chanced to
witness aught of his great skill and marvellous accuracy of eye in
shooting with a birding-piece?"
"A birding-piece!" exclaimed the King, "we knew not that he ever used
any such new-fashioned tool."
"He hath not used it till of late," said Cochran; "but it would seem
that he hath lost no time in perfecting himself in the use of it,
now that he hath taken it in hand. Your Majesty would be surprised to
behold how expertly he can employ it. The last shot I saw him make
with it was just as we were about to part, and it astonished me and
all those who were in my company."
"We shall ourselves see him use this strange weapon, the very first
visit he may make to court," said the King. "But what of this famous
shot of his?"
"So please your Majesty, a sparrow-hawk sat on the very top of a
straight upright pine tree, of immense height. He was perched there
so proudly and confidently in his lofty position, and, as he thought,
so safely too, that he looked down as carelessly on our cavalcade
below as if he had been the weather-cock on the needle point of some
lofty church-spire.--'There's a shot for you, Sir Walter,' said I,
and I straightway offered to gage five gold unicorns that he could
do nought against it.--'I take thy wager,' said he; and with that
he raised his piece, and without saying a word more, he presented it
at the over-confident bird, and, to the astonishment of all present,
down it came tumbling.--'He's gone!' cried he."
"Aye, and your gold was gone too," interrupted James, laughing
heartily.
"Nay, your Majesty, I minded not my gold," replied the wily Cochran;
"and had but these words of his been all the speech he uttered,
I had been well contented to have lost a larger wager."
"What said he else?" demanded James.
"So please your most gracious Majesty, I had rather leave the rest
unsaid," replied Cochran, with great affectation of discretion.
"Nay, but we would hear it all from thee," cried the King, impatiently.
"If your most gracious Majesty commands, your faithful servant must
obey," replied Cochran. "Yet true as mine ears are wont to be to
their office, I could hardly believe that I heard the words which
they then conveyed to me."
"We would have thee keep us no longer in suspense," cried the
King. "What words did Sir Walter Stewart utter?"
"As the bird fell," replied Cochran, with a gravity and a seriousness
of aspect that would have seemed to imply a heavy charge against the
Knight of Stradawn, "As the bird fell, Sir Walter, as I have already
signified to your Majesty, exclaimed, 'He's gone!' and then turning
aside, he added, in a somewhat lower voice, 'He's gone!--Would he
were the King!' So, and please your Majesty, did mine ears report
his words."
"Ha!" exclaimed James, with an air of great dissatisfaction, "Ar't sure
that he so spake? From all that thou hast seen, as well as heard at
Drummin, it would seem to us that both thine eyes and thine ears have
been wonderfully sharp to pick up evil against Sir Walter Stewart. Was
it likely that he should have thus wantonly spouted forth foul treason
in the ears of so many witnesses, some of whom it would appear were
sufficiently willing to report to us whatever might be turned to his
prejudice?--Go to, sir! I like not this! Those accurate ears of thine
must have failed of their honest duty for once. Or if, for some object
of thine own, thou hadst wilfully misinterpreted that which they did
truly hear, we can tell thee that thou hast not hit thy mark with the
same skill or success that Sir Walter Stewart did his. But we shall
judge of him in person, and that right speedily, for already hath he
received our royal command, borne to him by an especial messenger, to
present himself at court by a certain day, in order to be present at
the grand tournament which it is our royal will to hold, that we may
for once essay to bring our sullen and iron-sinewed nobles around us."
"I humbly crave your Majesty's most gracious pardon," said Cochran,
much abashed, and with a cringing reverence. "Your Majesty's matchless
wisdom hath put this matter into so clear a light, that I begin to
believe that my doubts--I mean the strong doubts I entertained of
it at the time--were correct, and that the words must have some how
or other come to mine ear awry. I appeal to all the Saints, and to
the blessed Virgin to boot, that I would rather hide than publish
aught against any one so much in your Majesty's favour as Sir Walter
Stewart would seem to be, especially one for whom I have, as I may say,
so high a respect, and regard, and admiration."
"We are satisfied," replied the King. "'Tis clear, that in this
instance thine ears have deceived thee. None but one demented
could have so spoken in such hearing; and Sir Walter Stewart is no
madman. But we would talk no more of this. We would now confer with
thee as to those plans at which we last looked ere thou wentest.----"
"I will go seek them straightway, your most gracious Majesty," replied
Cochran, and making more than ordinarily low and fawning obeisances,
he gladly retired to breathe more freely, and to recover from the
alarm of that danger which his very unwonted imprudence had brought
upon him, and which had so nearly hurled him into the very pit which
he had digged for another.
But we must now return to Drummin.----Though the----
AN OLD FRIEND WITH A NEW FACE.
Grant.--Who, in the name of wonder, can that be, who knocks so loudly
at the outer door, in this lone place, at such an hour?
Serjeant.--Some belated drover, I'll warrant. What an awful night
the poor man has had to travel in!
Clifford.--If there be, as philosophers say, no happiness equal
to that of being relieved from misery, I think that he who knocks,
whoever he may be, is to be envied for the sudden transition he is
about to make from all the horrors of night, rain, tempest, and bogs,
and swollen burns, to the comforts of this room, such as they are,
and especially to this glorious fire.
Author.--What a time they are losing in letting him in!
Serjeant.--I suspect they will have enough ado to get the door opened,
without being knocked down by the blast.
Author.--They have let him in at last. Whoever he may be, we must
make room for the poor fellow at our fireside.
Grant.--Certainly; I'll go and bring him in here: nay, I see I need
not, for here he comes.
Clifford.--What a figure the poor man is! He looks like a newly landed
river-god, or like Behemoth himself, come forth from the mighty deeps.
Serjeant.--Whoever he may be, his own father could not know him, were
he to see him at this moment, with his whole clothes so bedraggled,
and that face of his so clatched up with moss-dirt, that not a feature
of it can be seen.
Clifford.--He is like a moving peat-bog, I declare.
Author.--Bless me, how the poor wretch shivers!
Serjeant.--He shakes as if he had an ague-fit.
Clifford.--'Tis absolutely like an earthquake shaking the globe.--Here,
sir; pray swallow some of this warm punch--it will bring life into you.
Stranger--(in a perfect palsy of cold.)--Och! it's most reveeving
indeed, though the taste of it is just altogether poisoned with the
moss that's in my mouth.
Clifford--(with astonishment.)--Mr. Macpherson!
Author.--Is it possible?
Grant.--Where, in the name of all goodness, can you have dropped from,
my worthy sir?
Clifford.--Though we know not where he has dropped from, we may see
plainly enough, from the foul streams that drop from him, that he has
dropped himself, head over heels, into some black peat-hag. Here--get
towels, that we may rub the dirt out of his eyes.
Dominie.--Ech, sirs! give me another drop of yon comfortable stuff,
and let me see a bit glisk of the fire.--Aye.--Hech me! I'm much the
better of that.
Clifford.--Sit down here, sir. Sit down in this chair close to the
fire; but first take off that streaming coat of thine. It reminds me
of some of those vast black Highland mosses, the very drainings of
which give origin to some dozen of rivers. Now, take another pull at
this hot stuff, and then tell us your adventures if you can.
Dominie.--Oh, dear me, that is good! Why, gentlemen, my story is
short, though my way has been long and weary enough. The fack is,
that when I got to my brother Ewan's house, I found that he was away
to the low country to make some bargain about the buying of a stock
of iron, and that he was not to be home again for a fortnight. You
may believe I was much disappointed at this intelligence, after
the long tramp I had all the way from Caithness, to come and see
him. But it would appear, that my letter to him must have somehow
miscarried. Be that as it may, I had no sooner been satisfied that I
had no chance of seeing Ewan for a time, than my heart began to yearn
after those with whom I had so lately and so sorrowfully parted. So,
thinks I to myself, I'll just take my foot in my hand, and after the
gentlemen. I'll catch them at Inchrory. If the night had been good
and clear, I should have been here good two hours ago. But on came
the tempest; and the wind, and the rain, and the darkness together,
so bamboozled and dumbfounded me, that, as I was fighting along with
might and main, I fell souse over head and ears into a deep peat-pot,
Instabilis tellus, innabilis unda,
out of which it is the mercy of Providence that I was at length able to
swatter, after dooking and diving in it like a wild-duck for the better
part of a quarter of an hour, till I was nearly drowned in clean mud.
Clifford.--Clean mud, Mr. Macpherson! The mud you have been in would
seem to me to have been anything but clean.
Dominie.--True, Mr. Clifford; but I used a phrase of our vernacular,
meaning that there was nothing else there but mud--a truth I can speak
to by having gone faithfully throughout every corner of the big hole
into which I fell without finding any.--Clean, truly!--such a fearsome
sight I am!--I declare I am worse than Serjeant John Smith must have
been, when he fell into the moss-hole about the time of the battle
of Culloden.--Would you like to hear that story, gentlemen?
Clifford.--Much, Mr. Macpherson, but not now, for several
reasons. First, we must contrive to get you into dry clothes of some
sort, to prevent your dying of cold or fever; secondly, you must
have something to eat before you are permitted to talk; and thirdly,
there is another Serjeant, one Serjeant Archy Stewart, who is at this
moment on duty, and who was in the middle of a long story when your
appearance interrupted him. We must have that out first; but, in my
capacity of secretary, I shall take care to book you for producing
your Serjeant John Smith, when his time comes in the roster.
Dominie.--Eh, I'm sorry that I should have stopped the flow of my
friend Serjeant Archy's narration.
Clifford.--How could it have been otherwise, my good man? Why, what
flow could have possibly stood against such a flow as that which now
streams from your wet garments, Mr. Macpherson? You have already made
a lake in the room.
Dominie.--Keep me, so I have!
Serjeant.--Here lassie! Bring cloths and swab up the floor.
Clifford.--You had better not sit longer in that condition,
Mr. Macpherson; come away with me up to the garret, where we are to
sleep, and then I shall go and see what I can prevail on Mrs. Shaw
to do for you, to rig you out.