him. I am strongly impressed, young man, with the idea, that my friend has
been cruelly injured, and his generous heart wounded past recovery by this
deed of darkness. Savage monsters! worse than demons! would to God I had
you in my power!" And he walked about the room in a state of violent
excitement. "William," said he again, "I have no doubt you are the son of
Henry Seaton, my more than brother; and, so far as is in my power, I shall
assist you in the discovery of your parents, and avenge the murder of your
mother. I shall now give you my story:--I was an ensign in Munro's regiment
of Scots, serving in Flanders, when your father (for I have no doubt that
he was such) joined us, early in the spring of the year 1706, a short time
before the battle of Ramilies. We were both of the same company, and of
congenial minds; so that we soon became bosom friends, and were ever as
much as possible in each other's society. In battle we fought side by side,
without being jealous of each other's fame. In our first battle, that of
Ramilies, the Scots had more than their share of the loss, and I had the
misfortune to be shot in the leg early in the action. When I fell, your
father saved me from the sword of the enemy, and bore me out of the line at
the hazard of his own life; for we were at the time, pressed by a strong
division of the French. I soon recovered, and joined the ranks, when our
friendship, if possible, was stronger than ever. At the battle of Oudenard,
where we drove the French from their trenches, your father led on his men,
over the works, with too much eagerness, and was not supported for a time,
as the enemy sprung a mine and made the ditch impassable, killing and
wounding a great many of the advancing column. Bravely did he and his
handful of Scots stand their ground, surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers;
but they were dropping fast, for they fought hand to hand, and they were so
pressed by the enemy, and hemmed in, that they could not fire, for fear of
killing their own men. I saw the perilous situation of my friend; with the
greatest efforts, I and a few noble countrymen got clambered up to their
rescue. At our arrival, there were not more than six of them upon their
feet--all were covered with wounds and spent with fatigue. Your father
still raged like a lion in the toils--all swords were aimed at him--he
seemed invulnerable. I had reached his side, when a severe wound laid him
insensible at my feet; but I stood over him, and backed by my brave
followers, we fought till the French gave way before the numbers of our
troops that had forced the works and poured in on every side. I raised him
up--the blood streamed from his side--he appeared to be dead--his eyes were
closed--I placed my hand upon his breast--all appeared still--then
mournfully I supported his head on my knee, and saw his eyelids move, and
then a faint heaving of the breast. I snatched the canteen of a dead
soldier that lay by my side; there was some wine in it; I applied it to his
lips--he opened his eyes."
"'Edward,' said he, 'I thank you. I fear my career of glory is run. I hope
we have beat the enemy. I die content. Farewell!' And he sank again into
insensibility."
"All this had passed in the course of a couple of minutes The enemy had
made a fresh stand, and were forcing our troops back upon the
intrenchments. I gently laid him down, and, rallying the men who were
retreating, again forced them back. The enemy began to give way in all
directions, and we followed up our advantage until the order for ceasing
the pursuit was given. For a time I had forgot everything, in the
impetuosity of battle; but, after rallying my company, and marching back to
our camp, I took a file of men, and proceeded to the spot where I had left
my friend. I looked for some time in vain. So active had been the work of
the pillagers that followed the camp, that the dead and the dying had been
stripped; and by the countenance alone could one discover a friend from a
foe, I examined every face amidst a heap of dead bodies, and discovered my
friend. Life was not yet extinct. I had him removed to my tent, and went
for a surgeon, who examined and dressed his wound, but gave me no hopes of
his recovery. He was carefully removed into Oudenard, where our hospitals
were established, and for some days his life was despaired of; but youth
and a good constitution prevailed, and he again bade fair for life and
happiness. As soon as he was enabled to converse, I was at my usual place
by his bedside, when, after thanking me for his preservation, he expressed
the deepest sorrow for the loss of his ring, which had been torn from his
finger by the pillagers.
"I had, until now, scarcely paid any attention to this bauble; but
remembered, when he spoke of it, of having seen at all times a ring upon
his finger. I expressed my concern at his loss, but said, that it ought not
to give him so much concern, at a time when a miraculously spared life
called for his gratitude to God.
"'I value it next to life itself,' was his reply, 'for it was the gift of
my mother, and had been in our family for ages. Publish among the sutlers,
my good friend, that fifty dollars will be given for the ring, upon its
delivery to me; and twenty dollars to any one who will give information
that will lead to its recovery.'
"I promised, and left him, consoled with the hopes of again getting the
jewel; yet I could not help thinking my friend too profuse in his offer. I
immediately published in the camp, a reward of ten dollars for the ring, or
five for any information to lead to its recovery, and next morning the ring
was delivered, and the ten dollars paid to one of the fiends in human
shape, that, like vultures, follow in the track of war. My fingers itched
to cut the ruffian down, but I restrained myself. I paid him the promised
reward with a hearty curse--the word of a soldier is sacred; and it was at
this time that I examined the bauble so minutely, that I never can forget
it. I never saw joy more vividly expressed than when he placed it upon his
emaciated finger, and said I had given him a medicine that would quickly
recover him.
"'Shade of my sainted mother,' he ejaculated, 'I have still thy latest
gift, and it shall be parted with only with my latest breath.' And he
kissed it fervently as he spoke."
"In the course of a few weeks, he was convalescent, and again joined the
regiment. Each officer had received one step of promotion, and our duties
went on in the usual routine, though we were principally occupied in
foraging parties. It was the depth of winter, and provisions were scarce.
Henry had the command of a strong foraging party; and, on one occasion, he
came in his route to a large farm-house, where he hoped to obtain supplies.
Approaching the house, he heard cries of distress and supplication in
female voices. He put his men into rapid motion, and rushed forward alone.
Passing a thick fence, he saw a party of Dutch soldiers, who had
anticipated him, and some of whom were at the door, guarding it; but the
greater part were within the house. The cries became more piteous and
piercing. He drew his sword and rushed past the sentinels at the door, who
attempted to prevent him; but the view of his men coming up unnerved them.
A scene of horror met his eyes: the male inmates of the house were bound,
and soldiers were standing over them, ready to plunge their bayonets into
their bosoms at the least movement, while others were proceeding to acts of
violence towards the females. With a voice of thunder, he commanded them to
desist, and, seizing the officer, hurled him from the terrified and
fainting daughter of the farmer. The Dutchman, in rage, drew and made a
furious lounge at him, which he parried; and his men entering at the same
time, they drove the others out of the house. My friend, in French,
requested the Dutchman to follow his men; but he refused, and challenged
him to single combat, for the insult he said he had received at his
hands--adding some opprobrious epithets, which roused the choler of the
brave Englishman. In an instant, they were engaged hand to hand; but short
was the strife--the Dutchman fell dead on the scene of his violence, and
his men returned to the camp, and made a complaint against Monro's
regiment, which was like to have led to some serious consequences; but,
after your father stating the circumstances to the colonel, the latter
waited upon the Duke of Marlborough, and we heard no more of the affair.
"The last action we were in together, we both escaped unhurt; yet it was
the bloodiest one we had ever been in. Of all the honours of Malplaquet,
the Monroes had their full share; for, although the Duke did not like the
Scots, and used at times to throw a sarcasm at their country, he always
gave them a situation of danger, either from dislike or a reliance on their
courage. About twelve months after Malplaquet, your father left the service
and retired into France. Peace was now evidently at hand, and an armistice
had been agreed upon and signed by several of the allies of the English;
and our gallant leader was now in disgrace. Much as Henry Seaton and I
esteemed each other in all other points, we had no fellowship in politics.
I was and am a Whig; he, a Tory of the first water--a devoted adherent of
the exiled family; yet, high as parties ran at this time in cities, we had
no differences in the camp, where each respected his neighbour's opinion,
nor overvalued his own. The last letter I received from him was about
twelve months after we parted. It was dated St Germain's. He said, and in a
mysterious sort of way, half-earnest, half-jest, that, in a short time, we
might meet, to try the force of our different opinions. I, at the time,
only laughed at it, and returned, for answer, that I had no doubt we would
both do our best, and leave the issue to the Disposer of events. Soon
after, Mar's ill-concerted rebellion took place, in which I have no doubt
your father was an active agent; but I have, since this last letter, lost
all trace of him. Your being born in the year '16 would lead me to suppose
that he must have married your mother about the time of the Rebellion,
either in Scotland or France."
That Henry Seaton was his father, William earnestly prayed; but how was he
to ascertain this fact? He knew not; neither could his kind host assist
him. The lapse of time was so great, that, in all probability, he was dead;
and, with a mind worse at ease than it had ever been, he took leave of the
Colonel, promising to call again in the forenoon of the following day, to
consult what steps he should take to follow out the information he had so
unexpectedly acquired. He reached the inn, and retired to rest; but sleep
had fled his pillow. A thousand ideas crowded his mind; method after method
was canvassed, each for a time offering assured success, but, upon more
mature consideration, being rejected. Day dawned, and found him as
unresolved as when he left Colonel Gordon. As soon as it was consistent
with propriety, he waited upon the Colonel, by whom he was greeted
heartily.
"Well, tell me," said he, "the fruit of your invention for tracing out your
father, and I will tell you what has occurred to me as the best mode of
procedure."
William, without hesitation, told the state of his mind, and his utter
inability to think of any feasible plan, from his ignorance of the world
and its ways.
"Poor fellow! I do not wonder at what you tell me," replied the Colonel.
"Before many years go over your head, you and the world will be better
acquainted. My own opinion is, that you must forthwith proceed to France,
where you will find many of the adherents of the Stuarts. The young Charles
Edward is easy of access to Scotchmen, for he is anxious to make adherents;
and I have no doubt that he, or others of his followers, will be able to
give you every information about Henry Seaton. But you must beware how you
acquit yourself, lest they cajole you into their party; for, if your father
be alive and acknowledge you, the trial will be greater than you are aware,
to resist him."
"I will at once follow your wise counsel," replied William. "I trust--nay,
my heart tells me I shall be successful. Of my ever being an adherent of
the Stuart family, I have no fears. Before that can happen, I must first
forget all I have ever learned, from my first dawn of reason up to this
present moment. The first tears of sorrow I ever shed were for the woes of
others, drawn forth by the tale of the sufferings of my foster parent's
father, who suffered for the cause of truth, near the very spot where I now
lodge. The worthy minister, to whom I am indebted for all the learning I
possess, had also some share in my politics. Nay, do not smile, when I say
he had political opinions. He spiritualized everything. Nebuchadnezzar was
a type of the Stuart family. The Babylonish king, driven out from men, was
only an emblem of their expulsion, during the time of the Commonwealth, and
his being restored was only the fortune of Charles II.; but, as he
continued in idolatry after his restoration, so did Charles, after his
subscribing the Covenant at Scone; and, as Nebuchadnezzar's family were
destroyed, so are the Stuarts cut off from the throne for ever. To the
whole of this I do not subscribe; but my aversion to the family of the
Stuarts, I can never overcome."
"My young friend," replied the Colonel, "I am not one to quarrel with any
one for his opinion; but I rejoice to find we are of one mind. I will
accompany you to Leith, and we will make inquiries if there is any vessel
there likely soon to sail for France."
They accordingly proceeded to Leith, where they found there was a brig to
sail in the course of a week or two for Bourdeaux, to bring home a cargo of
wine. There were also several vessels to sail in a few days, for different
ports in Holland; but the Colonel advised William to agree with the captain
of the vessel for Bourdeaux--which, he did; and, having never seen the sea
but at a distance, nor a vessel in his life, his friend, to oblige him,
lingered on the shore, and examined them with him. In this manner the time
passed. They dined in Leith, and again walked about the shore, enjoying the
delightful scene. The shades of evening were beginning to approach, when
they resumed their way back to the city. They had reached about half-way to
the Abbey-Hill, when two men rushed from behind the fence, and, presenting
pistols to their breasts, demanded their money or their lives.
"Ho, my good fellows, not so fast!" exclaimed the Colonel, and drew his
sword. William did the same. One of the villains fired, and wounded the
Colonel in the right shoulder. William, at the same moment, plunged his
sword into his side, and he fell. The other ruffian fled, pursued by
William; but he escaped. He then hastened to his friend, who stood leaning
against the wall, with the wounded robber beside him. William inquired if
he was much injured.
"No, Seaton," he said. "I believe it is only a flesh wound, for I can wield
my sword yet." And he raised it up, and pointing it at the breast of the
fallen wretch, who lay groaning at his feet--"We must secure him," said the
Colonel; "and, at the same time, be on our guard against his cowardly
associate. If he could walk, I would know how to act with him; but I am not
going to carry the base carrion. Indeed, my arm bleeds, and is getting
stiff; otherwise I would dispatch him where he lies, and save the hangman
his labour."
"For the love of God, do not despatch me!" cried the man. "I will try to
walk; I would not be cut off so suddenly. In mercy, spare me, even for a
few hours. I am unfit to die; yet I feel life ebbing fast."
He rose to his feet, but was sinking again, when William's pity overcoming
his anger, he supported him. The wretch looked in his face, uttered a
scream of horror, and sank senseless in his arms. He looked to the Colonel
in astonishment. The latter looked narrowly into the face of the robber,
passed his hand across his forehead, and mused, as if recalling something
to his memory, but spake not.
Two men now came up to them, and assisted them to carry the body to the
nearest house, where a surgeon was sent for, and intimation given to the
authorities, who were all in a state of the greatest alacrity--stimulated,
doubtless, by the Porteous mob, which had taken place only a few months
before. Until the surgeon arrived, William, by the directions of the
Colonel, bound up his shoulder. What the Colonel called a scratch, appeared
to him a serious wound; for the ball had passed through the muscle of his
arm. They proceeded to stanch the blood which flowed from the side of their
prisoner, when the surgeon arrived; who, after having examined it, at once
declared it mortal, and that the man had not many hours to live. After some
time, he succeeded in restoring sensibility to the sufferer. He opened his
eyes--fixed them on William, who was assisting the surgeon in his
efforts--a fearful change came over him--he groaned, and, clasping his
hands, shrieked, and closed them again. A sudden recollection had come over
the Colonel.
"I cannot be mistaken," said he; "I have seen him before; but when or where
I cannot say, unless he was one of my company in Monro's regiment."
At the mention of Monro's regiment, the wretched man shuddered--his eye
fell upon the ring upon William's hand, as he held up the candle by the
bedside--the sweat stood in large drops upon his forehead--he would have
started up, but was restrained.
"Nay, then, since I am discovered," he cried, "I will confess all to you,
my injured and betrayed master. I see the Colonel recollects me; but I am
surprised you do not remember your old servant, Alick Brown."
"Who was your master?" exclaimed William, in surprise.
"Captain Henry Seaton--yourself," said the man. "I cannot be mistaken. That
ring--your height and countenance. You are, I am happy to see, much
improved since I last saw you--time appears to have made no change."
"Know you aught of Henry Seaton?" demanded the Colonel; while William stood
mute in astonishment and surprise.
"If this is not my old master whom I see," said the man, "who can he be? My
mind is filled with guilt and remorse. Die I must, either of this wound, or
by the law--for me there is no hope here or hereafter." And he groaned and
ground his teeth in despair, while the surgeon bade him prepare for death,
as he had but a few hours to live. The officers entered, and claimed him as
their prisoner. The villain once more arose in his mind. "Ha!" he
exclaimed, "I have bilked you yet. I have a sufficient bail in my side to
rescue me out of your hands." The effort to speak now became more
difficult; his voice sank into whispers; he appeared to be dying. Remorse
again roused him; and, turning his head, he inquired who William was? The
Colonel told him. He became more dreadfully agitated, and groaned in
anguish, till the officers of justice looked upon him in horror.
"I can doubt no longer," he cried. "It is too true. There is a God that
governs all! Mercy, mercy! How shall I appear before Him, covered with the
blood of his creatures? Let me perform the only act now in my power--to
atone for the past. Young man, you are the son of my noble and injured
master. After he left the army in Flanders, I accompanied him to France,
where he lived on terms of great intimacy with the royal exiles and their
followers for several months; at the end of which time, he and two other
gentlemen, accompanied by me, set out for Scotland on a secret mission to
the disaffected, preparatory to the preconcerted rising. We remained
concealed for several months, in the houses of those whom we knew to be
adherents to the cause we were embarked in. At the house of Lord Somerville
we remained for a long time, where my master won the affections of his
daughter, and proposed for her; but his Lordship objected to their union at
that time, on account of the unsettled state of affairs. With the consent
of Helen, they were, however, privately married; and soon after we set out
for Aboyne, and joined in the unfortunate affair. He was slightly wounded
at Sheriff-muir, but escaped by my assistance, and got safe to our camp.
The Prince and the Earl of Mar embarked when all hopes of success were cut
off, and I was sent back to the house of his wife's father, to bring her to
her husband, who had remained concealed in the Highlands, during the
severity of the winter. It was arranged, through me, that, as soon as he
had received remittances from France, I was to conduct her to the coast of
Argyle, by Glasgow and the Clyde. It was far on in the summer before he
could get all the arrangements made. His wife, who expected in a few weeks
to be confined, and concealed her situation with difficulty, became most
urgent. Early in the month of September, she escaped unseen from her
father's house, and joined me at the appointed place, accompanied by a
fiend in woman's shape, the agent whom I had employed to carry on our
intercourse. She had been a follower of the camp, and, by the little
service for which I paid her well, had won the confidence of the simple
Helen. We rode as fast as the lady's circumstances would admit, only
halting twice for a short time, in secret places. It was then that the
devil first assailed me in the person of this woman. She told me what a
quantity of money and jewels the lady had in her valise, and how easy it
would be to get all into our possession. I shuddered at the very idea, and
threatened to shoot her upon the spot. She laughed, and said it was all a
jest; but it took hold of my mind during the course of our journey, and she
judged by my looks, I suppose, that I was now more fit for her purpose. We
conversed about it; the idea became familiar; but I shuddered at blood. She
said there would be none shed. Still I could not consent--neither was I
sufficiently averse. The poor lady was taken ill as we passed through the
moor. You know the rest. As we stood at the cottage door, the pious
discourse of the farmer tortured me past endurance. I was several times on
the point of rushing into the cottage, and guarding my lady from the fiend;
but my evil genius prevailed. When we entered and got the unsuspecting
couple to their bed, my tempter smiled, and whispered 'All is safe.' I
shuddered, and inquired what she meant.
"'Oh, nothing,' she replied. 'The lady cannot recover; the woman of the
house has given her a composing draught. She will never awake. The money
and jewels are our own.'