subject; but she knew that common fame would soon bring a rumour of
every occurrence of consequence which should take place at this
interesting crisis. With this expectation, she anxiously watched from
her window the approach of every stranger to the house; and, when one
appeared, was the first to meet and to question him regarding the events
of the day. At length a report reached her, in which all agreed--for her
informers had differed widely in others--that a great event had taken
place, that a sanguinary battle had been fought; but, this admitted, the
usual discrepancies and contradictions followed. Some declared that the
Prince's army was defeated, and that a number of his leading men had
been killed and taken prisoners; others, with equal confidence, asserted
that the rebels were victorious, and that the king's troops were flying
in all directions. Elated and depressed by turns by these conflicting
rumours, Grace awaited, in dreadful anxiety, some certain intelligence
regarding what had taken place. It was while in this state of mind, and
while gazing listlessly, and almost unconsciously, from her little
parlour window on the wide prospect which it commanded, that her eye was
suddenly riveted on one particular spot. This was an abrupt turn in the
great road leading to Inverness, which passed Duntruskin House at the
distance of about half-a-mile, and from which, at this moment, the sun's
rays were suddenly reflected, in bright, brief, and frequent flashes, as
if from many surfaces of polished steel. Grace's heart beat violently;
for she instantly and rightly conjectured that the dark body which now
gradually, but rapidly, came in sight, and from which the coruscations
which had first attracted her attention emanated, was composed of armed
men; but whether they were rebels or king's troops, the distance
prevented her from ascertaining. In this state of doubt, however, she
did not long remain. Their rapid approach soon showed her that they were
a party of royalist dragoons--a circumstance which threw her into the
utmost terror. Nor was this feeling lessened by her perceiving them
leave the highway, and make directly for the house. On seeing this,
Grace, in the greatest alarm, hastened to seek out her father, whom she
found busily engaged in writing, and utterly unconscious of the
threatened visit. When informed of it, his countenance became pale, and
his whole frame agitated; for he dreaded that his secret connection with
the rebels had been discovered, and that he was now about to be
apprehended; and these were also the fears of his daughter. Without
saying a word, however, in reply to what had just been communicated to
him, Mr Cameron threw down his pen, started hastily to his feet, and
hurried to the window, beneath which, so rapid had been their motions,
the troopers were already drawn up. The commander of the party--for
there was only one officer--was a little thickset man, about forty-two
years of age, with a red, florid, vulgar countenance, expressive at once
of gross sensuality, much indulgence in the bottle, and a total absence
of all feeling. In the manner of his dress he evidently affected the
military dandy: his shirt neck reached nearly to the point of his nose;
his gloves were of the purest white; a showy silk handkerchief was
carelessly thrust into his breast, with just enough left projecting to
indicate its presence. Notwithstanding this display of finery, however,
and in despite of a splendid uniform made after the smartest military
fashion of the time, Captain Stubbs was still exceedingly unlike a
gentleman, and still more unlike a soldier. The first he was not, either
by birth or education; the latter he had neither talents nor energy of
character sufficient ever to become. The absence, however, of these
qualities in Captain Stubbs was amply supplied by others. He was vain,
irascible, conceited, and cruel; brutal and overbearing in his manners;
and coarse and utterly regardless of the feelings of others in his
language. He was, moreover, both an epicure and a glutton; and, to
complete his very amiable character, a most egregious coward.
Having drawn up his party in front of the house as already mentioned,
Captain Stubbs, before dismounting, threw a scrutinising glance at
several of the windows of the building, as if to ascertain what sort of
quarters he might expect--a point with him of the last importance. In
the course of this brief survey, his eye alighted on that occupied by Mr
Cameron and his daughter, whom he saluted with an insolent and familiar
nod. In the next instant he was at the door, where he was met by Mr
Cameron himself, with a countenance strongly expressive of the alarm and
uncertainty which he felt, and could not conceal, regarding the issue of
the interview now about to take place.
On their meeting--"Ha," said Stubbs, addressing the latter, "you are, I
presume, Mr--Mr----Hang me, I forget your name, sir! Mine, sir, is
Captain Stubbs, of the ---- regiment of dragoons. I find your name is in
my list of--of"--here the captain (who had by this time been conducted
to the dining-room), perfectly indifferent as to the particular of
finishing his sentence, began to pull off his gloves, and to detach his
spurs from his boots, with the air of one who is determined to be quite
at home--"of--of," he continued to repeat, with the utmost disregard of
ordinary politeness, and with the most profound contempt for the
feelings of his host, who, taking alarm at the ominous hiatus, which he
fully expected would be filled up by his being ranked amongst the
proscribed, waited patiently and meekly the conveniency of Captain
Stubbs--"of--of," repeated the captain slowly, after having divested
himself of his accoutrements, and otherwise prepared himself for an hour
or two's enjoyment--"of the friends of the government," he at length
said; and the words instantly relieved both his host and his daughter
from the most dreadful apprehensions. "So I have just beat you up,"
continued Captain Stubbs, "_en passant_, as 'twere, to tell you of the
total defeat of the rebels, at a place called Culloden, and to have a
morsel of dinner--eh, old boy?--and an hour or two's quarters for the
men and horses."
"Much obliged for the honour," replied Mr Cameron, ironically, and
accompanying the expression with a polite and formal bow; but, at the
same time, cautiously guarding against any expression of his real
feelings on this occasion, amongst which was a strong inclination to
kick the redoubted Captain Stubbs to the door. His prudence, however,
prevented him embroiling himself in this or any other way with a visiter
who had the means of retaliation so much in his power.
Immediately after making the announcement above recorded, Captain Stubbs
added, "And now, Mr--A--a----Pray, what the devil's your name, sir?"
"My name, sir," replied the party interrogated, "is Cameron--Ewan
Cameron."
"Ah! Cameron--ay, Cameron," repeated Captain Stubbs, knitting his brows,
and endeavouring to look very dignified. "Why, then, sir, I want some
brandy and water; and pray, see that some of your fellows look after my
horses." Having been provided with, and having swallowed a very handsome
modicum of the beverage he had called for, Captain Stubbs went on--"I
say, Cameron, can any of your brutes, your Hottentots, prepare me a
fowl, _a la Conde_?"
"Why, Captain Stubbs," replied Mr Cameron, whose anxiety to keep well
with the government and all connected with it induced him to suppress
the resentment which the amazing insolence of his guest was so well
calculated to excite--"our cookery is in general of a very plain sort."
"Ay, oh! boiled beef and cabbage, I suppose," interrupted Captain
Stubbs, with a sneer.
"But my daughter," continued Mr Cameron, without noticing the
impertinent interruption, "has, I believe, some little skill in these
matters, and will be happy, I doubt not, to make some attempt to produce
the dish you speak of; I will not, however, answer for her success."
"Your daughter, Mr A--a--a; ay, your daughter," said Captain Stubbs;
"why, let me see--yes, let her try it; but, zounds, if she spoil it, it
shall be at her peril. No, no," he added, after a moment's
thought--"I'll tell you what, Mr Cameron--as it would be a devil of a
business to have the thing botched, I suppose I must give instructions
about it myself: so, pray, order every one out of your kitchen but your
cook, and I shall go down-stairs presently, and see the thing properly
done. In the meantime, Mr Thingumbob, call in your daughter, that I may
have some conversation with her on the subject, that I may learn how far
she may be trusted in this affair."
Mr Cameron immediately rung the bell, and desired the servant who obeyed
the summons to inform his daughter that he wished to see her
immediately. "And, that she may not be altogether unprepared," he added,
"say to her that I wish to introduce her to Captain Stubbs."
"Ah!" ejaculated the latter, with a supercilious nod, in acknowledgment
of his acquiescence in the terms of the message. In a few minutes, Miss
Cameron entered the apartment. "Ah! Miss Cameron, I presume," said the
captain, with a haughty inclination of his head, but without moving from
his seat. "Your father, madam," he continued, "tells me that you know
something of _le grand cuisine_. Now, pray, madam, how do you compound
your sauce for a fowl, _a la Conde_? Eh, ma'am? Answer me that, if you
please. Do you use chopped veal or not? If you don't, you spoil the
dish--that's all. I've seen mutton used, but it's downright
abomination."
"Why, sir," replied Miss Cameron, haughtily, shocked and disgusted with
the insolence and gross epicureanism of the brute, "I am not accustomed
to be catechised on these subjects, or on any other, in the very
peculiar manner which you seem to have adopted."
"No!" exclaimed the gallant captain, starting up to a sitting posture,
and at the same time seizing his shirt-collars with finger and thumb,
and tugging them up at least another inch higher on his face. "I say,
you are uncivil, and confoundedly unpolite, madam. I am a king's
officer, madam--and a soldier, madam--and, by heavens, neither man nor
woman shall insult Captain Stubbs with impunity!"
"Nobly said, captain!" replied Miss Cameron, with an air of the mock
heroic; "draw your sword, sir, and lay your insulter dead at your feet;
or, if you are not altogether so sanguinary, you may send me a challenge
by my waiting-maid, who, I daresay, will have no objection to act as my
second in any little affair of honour--such as this is likely to be."
"Miss Cameron, madam--Mr Cameron," stuttered and sputtered out Captain
Stubbs, starting to his feet, his face reddening with rage, and every
feature exhibiting symptoms of the high indignation which he felt--"Mr
Cameron, sir, I command you, sir, in the king's name, to turn your
daughter out of this apartment, otherwise I shall order up half-a-dozen
of my fellows, with pistol and sabre, to drive her from my presence; and
it is not improbable, sir, that I may have her apprehended, and tried,
and shot as a rebel, sir."
Whilst delivering himself of this appalling speech, Captain Stubbs
strutted up and down the apartment, chafing with rage; at one time
impatiently tugging on his gloves, at another buttoning up his coat with
an air of determination, which he thought, no doubt, would strike terror
into the breasts of his auditors.
Mr Cameron, unwilling that matters should be carried any farther, and
still desirous to keep up appearances with his guest, now approached his
daughter; and, taking her gently by the hand, and at the same time
leading her towards the door--
"Grace," he said, "I think you had better retire. You do not appear
disposed," he added--smiling in his daughter's face as he spoke, but
taking care to conceal this expression of his real feelings from the
enraged captain--"to make yourself agreeable to-day; and therefore it
may be as well that you carry your temper to some other quarter."
"Oh, certainly, sir, since it is your pleasure," replied Miss Cameron,
tripping towards the door, where she stood for an instant--looked full
at the captain--said she would expect to hear from him at his
convenience, as to time, place, and weapons--made him a stately curtsey,
and left the apartment.
When she had gone--"Don't think I am _afraid_ of her, Mr Cameron," said
Captain Stubbs. "I am a man, sir, and a soldier, sir," he continued,
still pacing the room, in great indignation at the treatment he had
received from his fair antagonist, "and not to be frightened with
trifles; but I say, Mr A--a--," he added, in a more subdued tone, "as I
am not a man to permit such small occurrences as this to direct my
attention from any important object I may have in view, I beg to know
distinctly what you have for dinner, and I insist upon you, at the same
time, recollecting, sir, that I am a king's officer, sir, and have a
right to civil treatment."
"What sort of dinner you are to have, Captain Stubbs," replied Mr
Cameron, "I really do not exactly know; but you may rest assured that,
in so far as it lies with me, you shall have civil treatment; and I
request of you to point out to me in what way I may contribute to your
comfort."
"Ah! well--very well," replied Captain Stubbs. "Am I, then, or am I not,
to have a fowl _a la Conde_, sir--eh?"
"Surely, sir," said his host; "if any of my people can prepare such a
dish as you speak of, you shall have it."
"What the devil, then!" exclaimed Stubbs, passionately; "and am I to
lose my dinner if your Hottentots shouldn't happen to know how to cook
it? No! hang me, sir, I'll superintend the thing myself. I'll do it with
my own hands, if you will show me the way to your kitchen."
With this request Mr Cameron immediately complied, by marshalling the
captain to the scene of his proposed labours. On arriving in the
kitchen, he forthwith prepared himself for the work he was about to
undertake, by throwing off his regimental coat, rolling up his
shirt-sleeves to his shoulders, and seizing on a large carving-knife
which happened to be lying within his reach. Thus prepared, Captain
Stubbs, after having been provided, by his own special orders, with a
pair of choice fowls, lemon juice, bacon, parsley, thyme, bay-leaf,
cloves, &c. &c., commenced operations; and, forgetting his dignity in
his devotion to good living, he might now be seen smeared, from
finger-ends to elbows, with grease and offal, earnestly engaged in
disembowelling, with his own hands, the fowls on which he meant to
exercise his gastronomic skill.
Leaving Captain Stubbs, of his majesty's ---- regiment of horse, thus
becomingly employed, we shall return to a personage who, we should
suppose, will be fully more interesting to the reader. This is Grace
Cameron. That lady, on leaving the presence of her father, and him of
the fowl _a la Conde_, returned to her own apartment, when, recollecting
that the dragoons were still in front of the house, she walked up to the
window, to gratify her curiosity by taking another peep at the warlike
display; and it was while thus employed that Miss Cameron, for the first
time, perceived that there was a prisoner amongst the soldiers. The
prisoner was a boy of about thirteen or fourteen years of age. He was
mounted behind one of the dragoons, to whom he was secured by a cord,
which was passed round the bodies of both. Grace thought she perceived
that the boy looked up at the windows of the house with more earnestness
and anxiety than curiosity; and, when his eye at length rested on that
she occupied, he threw a peculiar intelligence into his look,
accompanied by certain expressive but almost imperceptible signs, that
convinced her that he was desirous of holding some communication with
her. Satisfied of this, Grace raised the window at which she stood, and
beckoned to the serjeant of the troop to approach nearer. He rode up to
within a few yards of the house.
"Is that poor boy a prisoner, sir?" inquired Miss Cameron.
"Yes, ma'am," replied the serjeant, touching his hat.
"For what has he been taken up? What has he done?"
"Done, ma'am! Lord love you, ma'am--excuse me--he has done nothing as I
knows of; but our captain suspects him of being a rebel."
"Where did you fall in with him?"
"Why, ma'am, we picked him up on the road as we came along this morning.
Captain saw him skulking behind a hedge. 'There's a blackguard-looking
rascal, serjeant,' says he. 'He has the rebel cut about him as perfect
as a picture. Pick him up, and strap him to one of the fellows, and
we'll see what the cat-o'-nine-tails will bring out of him.'"
"Gracious heaven!" exclaimed Grace, shocked at this instance of military
despotism, "is it possible that such a state of things exists--that you
can apprehend and punish whomsoever you please, without a shadow of
crime being established against them? You cannot have such a power,
serjeant. It is impossible."
"Oh, bless you, ma'am, but we have, though," replied the serjeant.
"Captain may hang or shoot a dozen every day, if he has a mind, without
ever axing them a question. We could never get through our work
otherwise; and, as to this young rogue's being a rebel, there's no doubt
of it. He's all in rags; and, as captain says, every poor-looking ragged
rascal is sure to be a rebel."
"Pretty grounds, truly, on which to subject a man to the treatment of a
felon!" said Miss Cameron. "However," she continued, "will it be any
dereliction of your duty, serjeant, to permit me to speak for a moment
with the unfortunate lad?"
"By no means, ma'am," replied the serjeant. "Provided he's kept fast
till captain's pleasure is known regarding him, I don't see it signifies
a pinch of gunpowder who speaks to him."
Availing herself of the permission granted her, Grace was in an instant
afterwards beside the prisoner, whose looks brightened up with an
expression of extreme delight as she approached him. After asking the
lad a few trivial questions, she observed him cautiously stealing
something forth from a concealment in his dress. It was a letter.
Watching an opportunity, he slipped this document unperceived into her
hand.
Trembling with agitation, although she knew not well for what, Grace
crammed the letter into her bosom, and saying to its bearer that she
would speak with him again, she hurried into the house, and sought a
retired apartment, when, pulling it from her bosom, she discovered, from
the handwriting of the address, that it was from Malcolm M'Gregor. With
a beating heart and trembling hand, she opened it, and read--
"DEAREST GRACE,--All is lost. The Prince's army is defeated and
dispersed, and I am now a wandering fugitive in my native land,
with the axe of the executioner suspended over my neck. This is
a dreadful reverse, and carries with it destruction to all our
hopes--to mine, individually, utter annihilation. I have only
time to add, dearest Grace, that, if I can escape the
bloodhounds that are in pursuit of us, I must seek safety in a
foreign land. I will, however, endeavour to see you before I
go. I _must_ see you, Grace, and shall do so at all hazards. I
have hitherto escaped unhurt. God bless you," &c. &c.
With mingled feelings of joy and grief--joy to find that her lover still
lived, and had escaped the dangers of the battle-field, and grief for
the unfortunate position in which he was now placed--Grace returned the
letter to her bosom, and hastily left the apartment, when she was met by
her father, who insisted upon her joining Captain Stubbs and himself at
dinner; requesting her, at the same time, to conduct herself in a
conciliatory way to the captain, and thus to endeavour to make her peace
with him, as he was such a man, he said, as might occasion them trouble,
if allowed to leave the house with any feelings of irritation towards
them.
Obedient to her father's commands, Grace joined the party, and not only
avoided giving Stubbs any farther offence, but got so far into his good
graces that she actually prevailed on him to order the release of the
boy who had been the bearer of Malcolm's letter--an order which Grace
took care to see immediately fulfilled; nay, Captain Stubbs not only did
this, but began, after dinner, when his temper had been mollified by the
good things of which he had partaken, to play the gallant--and in this
character he was standing at a window with Miss Cameron, when, suddenly
dropping the awkward badinage which he had been attempting--
"But who the devil have we got here?" he exclaimed, his eye having
caught a man in a mean dress, who, on discovering the dragoons as he
approached the house, suddenly stopped short, and, in evident surprise
and alarm, sprung to one side of the road, and endeavoured to conceal
himself behind a low and rather thin hedge that ran parallel to the
house, and directly in front of it. Stubbs pointed him out to Miss
Cameron; she started, and turned pale; for, meanly dressed as he was,
she at once recognised in the stranger her lover, Malcolm M'Gregor. He
had come, she doubted not, in this disguise, to pay the visit which his
letter had promised. In the meantime, Stubbs, flushed with the wine he
had drunk, and desirous of showing Miss Cameron his promptitude and
energy on sudden emergencies, threw up the window violently, and called
out to the soldiers to pursue the fugitive, and to fire upon him, if he
did not surrender himself. It was in vain that Miss Cameron--at this
trying moment forgetting the additional danger to which the warm and
earnest expressions of her interest in the fate of her lover would
subject him--implored Captain Stubbs to allow him to escape.
"For Heaven's sake," she exclaimed, in the agony of her feelings, and
seizing him almost convulsively by the hand as she spoke, "do not commit
murder! Do not send the soldiers after him, captain. I will do anything
for you--I will go on my bended knees to you," said the distracted girl,
"if you will call your men back, and allow him to escape." To this
appeal Stubbs made no other reply than by repeating, with additional
vehemence, his orders to the soldiers; half-a-dozen of whom, with the
serjeant at their head, now galloped furiously off in the direction
which he pointed out. Then, turning round to Miss Cameron, with a look
of mingled triumph and self-complacency--
"Why, madam," he said, "we must do our duty. We soldiers mustn't stand
on trifles. The fellow must be shot; and, if he isn't shot, he must be
hanged--that's all; so there's but two ways of it--eh? Tight work that,
madam, isn't it--eh?"
At this instant, the report of a carbine was heard, and immediately
after, another and another.
"Oh heavens! they have killed him, they have killed him!" exclaimed Miss
Cameron, covering her face with her hands, and throwing herself into a
seat, in an agony of horror and despair. "They have murdered him, the
ruthless savages. Oh Malcolm, my beloved Malcolm! that you had never
loved me, that you had never looked on this fatal face!--for it is I,
and I alone, that have been the cause of your cruel and untimely death."
And here the violence of her feelings choked her utterance, and she
burst into a flood of tears.
Fortunately Captain Stubbs was too intently occupied in watching the
proceedings of the party who were in pursuit of the fugitive, to hear
all that Miss Cameron had permitted to escape her in her agony; or,
indeed, to notice her distress at all. Quizzing-glass in hand, he was
employed in looking at the chase, and ever and anon giving utterance to
the various feelings which its various turns excited.
"Ha, you've pinned him at last, serjeant," muttered the captain, in his
own peculiar and elegant phraseology, on perceiving the fugitive stumble
and fall, immediately after a carbine had been discharged at him by the
officer just named.
"No, you blind rascal," again muttered Stubbs, on seeing the fallen man
taking once more to his feet, and clearing hedges and ditches with an
activity that sufficiently showed he had sustained, at any rate, no
serious injury. "You haven't touched him. I'll have you back to the
ranks again for that, you scoundrel, or my name's not Stubbs." And,
after a moment's pause--"Ay, ay, you villain," he added, "he's off, he's
off; you'll never get within shot of him again. Hang me, if I don't get
every man of you flogged to death for this!"