While the latter events which we have recorded in the last chapter were
taking place, Henry Blackett, the rebel soldier, was a fugitive, flying
from hiding-place to hiding-place, seeking concealment in the mountains
and in the glens, in the forest and crowded city, assuming every
disguise, and hunted from covert to covert. A reward was not offered for
his apprehension, in particular by government, but he was included
amongst those whom loyal subjects were forbidden to conceal; and two
emissaries, sent out by Norton, sought him continually, to deliver him
up. Ignorant of his father's marriage, or of the villain's part he had
acted towards him, though conscious of his anger at his having joined
Prince Charles, he was wandering in Dumfries-shire, by the shores of the
Solway, disguised as a sailor, and watching an opportunity to return
home, when the hunters after his life suddenly sprang upon him,
exclaiming--"Ha! Blackett, the traitor!--the five hundred pounds are
ours!"
Armed only with the branch of a tree, which he carried partly for
defence, and as a walking-stick, he repelled them with the desperate
fierceness of a man whose life is at stake. One he disabled, and the
other being unable to contend against him singly, permitted him to
escape. He rushed at his utmost speed across the fields for many miles,
avoiding the highways and public paths, until he sank panting and
exhausted on the ground. He had not lain long in this situation when he
was discovered by a wealthy farmer, who was known in the neighbourhood
by the appellation of "canny Willie Galloway."
"Puir young chield," said Willie, casting on him a look of compassion,
"ye seem sadly distressed. Do ye think I could be o' ony service to ye?
From yer appearance, ye wadna be the waur o' a nicht's lodging, and I
can only say that ye are heartily welcome to't."
Henry had been so long the object of pursuit and persecution, that he
regarded every one with suspicion; and starting to his feet and grasping
the branch firmer in his hand, he said--"Know you what you say?--or
would you betray the wretched?"
"It is o' nae manner o' use gripping your stick," said Willie, calmly,
"for I'm allooed to be a first-rate cudgel-player--the best atween
Stranraer and Dumfries. But, as to kennin' what I said, I was offerin'
ye a nicht's lodgings; and as to betrayin' the wretched, I wadna see a
hawk strike doon a sparrow, not a spider a midge, if I could prevent
it."
"You seem honest," said Henry; "I am miserable, and will trust you."
"Be thankit," answered the other; "I dare to say I'm as honest as my
neebors; and, as ye seem in distress, I will be very happy to serve ye,
if I can do't in a creditable way."
Willie Galloway was a bachelor of five and forty, and his house was kept
by an old woman, a distant relative, called Janet White. Henry
accompanied him home, and communicated to him his story. Willie took a
liking for him, and vowed that he would not only shelter him, while he
had a roof over his head, but that he would defend him against every
enemy, while he had a hand that he could lift; and, the better to ensure
his concealment, he proposed that he should pass as his sister's son,
and not even write to his father to intimate where he was, until the
persecution against those who had "been _out_ with poor Charlie," was
past.
In the neighbourhood of Willie's farm, there resided an elderly
gentleman, named Laird Howison. He was an eccentric but most
kind-hearted man, of whom many believed and said that his imagination
was stronger then his reason; and in so saying, it was probable that
they were not far from the truth. But of that the reader will determine
as he sees more of the laird. There resided with him a beautiful orphan
girl, named Helen Marshall, the daughter of the late parish clergyman,
and to whom he had been left guardian from her childhood. But, as she
grew up in loveliness before him, she became as a dream of futurity that
soothed and cheered his existence; and, although he was already on the
wrong side of fifty, he resolved that, as soon as she was twenty-one,
he would offer her his hand and fortune. Janet White, the housekeeper
and relative of Willie Galloway, had nursed Helen in infancy; and the
lovely maiden was, therefore, a frequent visitor at his house. She there
met Henry, and neither saw nor listened to him with indifference; and
her beauty, sense, and gentleness, made a like impression upon him.
Willie, though a bachelor, had penetration enough to perceive that when
they met there was meaning in their eyes; and he began to rally
Henry--saying, "Now, there would be a match for ye!--when the storm has
blawn owre your head, just tak ye that bonny Scotch lassie hame to
England wi' ye as yer wife, and ye will find her a treasure, such as ye
may wander the world round and no find her marrow."
As their intimacy and affection increased, Henry communicated to Helen
the secret of his birth and situation; and, like a true woman, she loved
him the more for the dangers to which he was exposed. He had remained
more than eight months with his friend and protector; and, imagining
that the persecution against himself, and others who had acted in the
same cause, was now abated in its fury, he forwarded a letter to his
father, at Winburn Priory, announcing his intention of venturing home in
a few days, and begging his forgiveness and protection, until his pardon
could be procured. He, however, intimated to Willie Galloway, his desire
to secure the hand of Helen before he left.
"Weel, if she be agreeable," said Willie "--and I hae every reason to
believe she is--I wadna blame ye for taking that step ava; for her auld
gowk o' a guardian, Laird Howison, (though a very worthy man in some
respecks), vows that he is determined to marry her himsel, as soon as
she is ane and twenty; and, as he is up aboot London at present, ye
couldna hae a better opportunity. Therefore, only ye and Helen say the
word, and I'll arrange the business for ye in less than nae time."
The fair maiden consented; a clergyman had joined their hands, and
pronounced the benediction over them--the ceremony was concluded, but it
was only concluded, when the two ruffians, who have been already
mentioned as hired by Norton to search for him and secure his
apprehension, and who before had met him by the side of the Solway,
followed by two soldiers, burst into the apartment, crying--"Secure the
traitor! It is he!--Harry Blackett!"
Helen screamed aloud and clasped her hands.
"Ye lie! ye lie!" cried Willie--"it is my sister's son--meddle wi' him
wha daur, and us twa will fecht you four, even in the presence o' the
minister."
So saying, he seized hold of a chair, and raised it to repel them. Henry
followed his example. The soldiers threateningly raised their fire-arms.
Willie suddenly swang round the chair with his utmost strength, and
dashed down their arms. Henry hastily kissed the brow of his fair bride,
and, rushing through the midst of them, darted from the house, while
Willie, as rapidly following him, closed the door behind him, and
holding it fast, cried--"Run, Harry, my lad!--run for bare life, and
I'll keep them fast here!"
For several days, the soldiers searched the neighbourhood for the
fugitive; but they found him not, and no one knew where he had fled.
Within a week, Helen disappeared from Primrose Hall, the seat of her
guardian, Laird Howison; and the general belief was, that she had set
out for Cheshire, to the father of her bridegroom, to intercede with him
to use his influence in his son's behalf. "And," said Willie, "if she
doesna move him to forgie his son, and do his duty towards him, then I
say that he has a heart harder than a whin-rock."
But no one knew the object of her departure, nor whither she had gone.
Laird Howison had not returned; and, after several weeks had passed, and
Willie Galloway was unable to hear ought of either Helen or Henry, he
resolved to proceed to Cheshire, to make inquiries after them; and for
this purpose purchased an entire suit of new and fashionable raiment.