nature of the ground had been all along greatly in his favour, being so
interspersed and encumbered with hedges, ditches, walls, and trees, that
the dragoons had little or no chance of ever being able to overtake him,
should he escape their carbines; and these had hitherto been discharged
at him without effect.
The last effort of the fugitive--that which secured his final escape,
and which had called forth the expressions of Captain Stubbs'
displeasure--was his plunging into a thick plantation that grew on the
face of a steep and rocky hill, where it was impossible for the troopers
to pursue him. The latter finding this, two or three shots were
discharged at random into the wood; a volley of oaths followed, and the
pursuit was abandoned.
The dragoons turned their horses' heads towards Duntruskin House, where
they soon after rejoined their comrades.
During the pursuit, Miss Cameron awaited its result in deep but silent
wretchedness, till, aroused by the delightful intelligence communicated
involuntarily by Stubbs, that the fugitive yet lived--
"He is not killed, then!" she exclaimed, in a paroxysm of rapture,
starting from her seat, her face flushed with joy, and her soft dark eye
beaming with inexpressible happiness. "He is not killed, then!" she
said, rushing wildly to the window. "Oh, thank God, thank God for his
mercies!" she exclaimed, on perceiving that the fugitive appeared to be
still unhurt, and that he was continuing his exertions to escape, with
unabated energy.
Unable, however, to look longer upon the doubtful and critical struggle
between the pursuers and the pursued, she had again retired from the
window, and again her fears for the eventual safety of her lover had
returned. These, however, Captain Stubbs' latter exclamations had once
more removed.
"Off! is he off?" she wildly repeated, taking up the words in which the
joyful event had been communicated; and she again flew to the window.
"Dear Captain Stubbs," she exclaimed--forgetting in the excitation of
the moment all former feelings and antipathies regarding him she
addressed--"is he indeed off? Has--has"--and she was about to pronounce
the name of M'Gregor, when a sudden recollection of the imprudence of
doing so struck her, and she merely added, "has the man really escaped?"
Having quickly satisfied herself that it was so, Miss Cameron, unable
longer to control the warm and overflowing sense of gratitude which she
felt towards the Omnipotent Being who had protected the beloved object
of her affections in the moment of peril, clasped her hands together,
looked upwards with a countenance strongly expressive of thankfulness
and joy, and breathed a short but fervent prayer of thanksgiving.
The scene was one which Stubbs could not comprehend. He thought it very
odd, but he said nothing. In a few seconds after, Grace left the
apartment--a step to which she was urged by two motives. Captain Stubbs
had threatened that he would instantly go himself, with his whole troop,
on foot, to search the wood in which the fugitive had concealed
himself--a measure which, if executed, would almost certainly secure the
capture of M'Gregor, or, at least, render it a very probable event. The
other motive, proceeding from this circumstance, was, to see whether she
could not fall on any means of preventing the threatened expedition.
On leaving the apartment, Grace met the serjeant on his way to Captain
Stubbs, to make his report of the proceeding in which he had just been
engaged. Without well knowing for what precise purpose, but with some
general idea that she might prevail on him, by some means or other, to
second her views in defeating the object of Stubbs' proposed search, she
stopped him, and hurriedly conducted him into an unoccupied apartment.
"Oh, serjeant!" she exclaimed, in great agitation, and scarcely knowing
what she said, "will you--will you do me a favour--a great favour,
serjeant? For God's sake, do not refuse me!"
The man looked at her in utter amazement.
"Your captain," continued Grace, "proposes renewing the pursuit of the
person that has just escaped you. I am interested in that person. Now,
serjeant, will you do what you can to prevent this search taking place,
or to render it unavailing if it does?" And with these last words she
put a purse, containing ten guineas, into the serjeant's hand.
The man looked from the gift to the giver, and again from the latter to
the former, in silent astonishment, for several seconds. At length--
"Why, miss," he said, "since you _are_ in such a taking about this
matter, and as I don't mind a poor fellow's escaping now and then, I
_will_ do what I can to serve you in the case." And he put the purse
into his pocket.
"Oh, thank you, serjeant, thank you!--God bless you for these words!"
said Grace, in a rapture of joy. "But how--how, serjeant, will you
manage it?"
"Oh, leave me alone for that, miss," replied the latter; "I knows how to
manage it, and I'll do it effectually, I warrant you. I can send captain
in any direction I please on the shortest notice. He don't like the
smell of gunpowder, though he be a soldier; and, when he can, always
follows the wind that brings it."
In a few minutes after, Serjeant Higginbotham was in the presence of the
pink of chivalry, Captain Stubbs. Having informed the latter briefly of
the result of the pursuit, he added, that, when he was out, he had seen
"something suspicious."
"What was it?" inquired Stubbs, in a tone and with a look of alarm.
"Why, sir," responded the serjeant, "a crowd of people assembled on the
face of the hill where the fellow escaped us."
"The devil! Are they rebels, think you, serjeant?" said the captain,
with increased perturbation.
"And, please your honour, I think as how there is no doubt of it,"
replied Higginbotham.
"In great force, you say, serjeant?" added Stubbs; "in overwhelming
force--madness to attack them--you can depone on oath before a
court-martial?"
"To be sure I can, sir," rejoined the former.
"That's a good fellow; order my horse to the door instantly, and let the
men fall in."
These orders were immediately obeyed; and in the next instant Captain
Stubbs appeared at the door.
"In what direction are these rascals?" he said, addressing the serjeant,
as he was about to mount his charger.
"In that direction, your honour," replied the latter, pointing towards
the place of M'Gregor's concealment.
"Ah!" ejaculated Captain Stubbs; and, in a moment after, he was in full
gallop, followed by his whole troop, in the opposite direction.
We should certainly fail, were we to attempt to describe the joy of
Grace Cameron when she beheld the departure of the dragoons. That joy,
as will readily be believed, was extreme.
For some time after the troopers had left the house, Grace continued to
keep her eye on the spot where M'Gregor had disappeared, in the hope
that he would again show himself. Nor was she mistaken. Malcolm appeared
also to have been able to see from his hiding-place the departure of the
soldiers; for they had not been more than a quarter-of-an-hour gone,
when he again appeared at the skirts of the wood where he had been
concealed, and made towards the house. On recognising him, Grace
hastened out to meet him.
This meeting we need not describe, as it very much resembled all other
meetings of a similar kind--only that it was, perhaps, a little more
interesting, from the peculiar situation of the parties. The lovers had
much to say to each other, and much was said in a very small space of
time. Amongst other things, Malcolm informed Grace that it was his
intention to request her father for an asylum for three or four days,
when, he said, it was his intention to proceed to the coast, and to
endeavour to effect his escape from thence to France.
The asylum that Malcolm requested was readily granted by Mr Cameron, and
a place of concealment was found for him, which promised every
security--and there was need that it should; for, on the following day,
the surrounding country was filled with soldiers, who were everywhere
making the strictest search for the fugitive insurgents; and of these
several parties had already paid domiciliary visits to Duntruskin House.
The constant state of terror and alarm for the safety of her lover, in
which these visits kept Grace Cameron, and the imminent risk he ran of
being discovered, at length suggested to the romantic girl an
undertaking which well accorded with her strong affection and noble
spirit; but which certainly, had it been known, must have appeared to
all but herself as utterly hopeless.
On the second day after the occurrence just related, Grace, seizing such
an opportunity as she thought favourable for her purpose, suddenly flung
her arms around her father's neck, and said, smiling affectionately in
his face as she spoke--
"Father, I am going to ask you a favour."
"Well, Grace, my dear," replied he, "I tell you, before you ask it,
that, if it be reasonable in itself, and within my power, I shall grant
it."
"Thank you, my dear father," said Grace; "but I am afraid you will _not_
think it reasonable. Nevertheless, you must grant it."
"Nay, Grace, that's more than I bargain for," rejoined Mr Cameron,
laughing. "But let me know what it is you want, and I shall then be
better able to judge of its propriety."
"Well, then, father," replied Grace, "will you allow me to go from home
for two days, to take my pony with me--for I mean to travel--and allow
Macpherson to accompany me?"
"Where do you propose going to, Grace?" inquired her father, rather
gravely.
"That's a question, father," said his daughter, "that relates to a part
of the bargain I mean to drive with you which I have not yet arrived at,
and which will seem to you the most unreasonable of the whole, I
daresay. You must not ask me where I am going to, nor what I'm going to
do. On my return, you shall know all."
"Indeed!" exclaimed Mr Cameron; "why, this is certainly strange,
Grace--I don't understand it; and, what is more, I must say I do not
like it; but, as I have every reliance on your good sense and
discretion, my child, I will grant your request. But I really wish you
would tell me what it means; for you cannot suppose that I can be
otherwise than uneasy till you return."
"I have your unconditional consent, father, to my terms," said Grace,
playfully; "so you must not put any questions; and, as to your being
uneasy about me, I assure you there is not the slightest occasion; for
my project involves no chance whatever of personal injury to myself."
"Well, well, Grace," replied her father, "since you assure me of that,
and since I have certainly given my consent to your request, I will keep
my word. You may go when you please."
Delighted with her success, Grace flew to give the necessary orders
regarding her intended journey; and amongst these were instructions to
Macpherson--a favourite servant of long standing in the family--to have
her pony, and a horse for himself, in readiness at an early hour on the
following morning. When this hour arrived, it found Grace and her
attendant jogging forward, at a pretty round pace, on the road leading
to the town of Inverness.
Leaving her to prosecute her mysterious journey, we shall return to
Duntruskin House, where a scene was about to occur of no ordinary
interest.
On the second day after Grace's departure, a young Irish officer, who
had been in the service of the Pretender, and who was well acquainted
with both Mr Cameron and M'Gregor--with the latter intimately, as they
had served together--arrived at Duntruskin House. He, too, was a
fugitive, and was now endeavouring to find his way back to Ireland, and
to avoid the numerous military parties that were scouring the country.
This gentleman, whose name was Terence Sullivan, was a genuine Milesian.
He was frank, open, generous, warmhearted, and brave to a fault; for he
was rash and impetuous, and never stopped an instant to reckon on the
odds that might be against him in any case, either of love or war. On he
went, reckless of consequences and fearless of results. Terence was
thus, in truth, rather a dangerous ally in cases where either caution,
deliberation, or forbearance, was necessary, and where their opposites
were attended with peril. Such as he was, however, he now appeared at
Duntruskin, on his way to the coast for the purpose already mentioned.
But Mr Sullivan brought a piece of intelligence with him which it was
rather singular he should have fallen in with; and it was intelligence
that greatly surprised and alarmed both Cameron and M'Gregor. This was,
that the place of concealment of the latter was known, and that he might
every moment expect to be apprehended; and, to show that his
information was well founded, he described the place of M'Gregor's
retreat with such accuracy that it was instantly recognised, and left no
doubt that a special information on the subject had been laid by some
person or other. Sullivan said that the way in which he came by the
intelligence was this:--He had slept on the preceding night in a small
public-house, and having been much fatigued, had retired early to bed.
This bed was in a recess in the wall, with a sliding-door on its front,
which he drew close. Soon after he had lain down, a party of military
came to the house in quest of refreshments; and, being shown into the
apartment where he lay, he overheard all that passed amongst them; and
part of this conversation, he said, was what he had just communicated.
On receiving this startling intelligence, Mr Cameron hastened to inform
M'Gregor of his danger, when an earnest conversation ensued between them
as to what steps the latter ought now to take to secure his safety.
Leaving them for an instant thus employed, we will return to Terence,
who, having been left alone by Mr Cameron while he went to speak with
his protege, had taken his station at a window which overlooked the
approach to the house, and was there humming away, with great spirit,
one of his lively national airs, when his eye was suddenly caught by the
red coats of a party of dragoons advancing towards the house. Terence's
eye instantly brightened up with an almost joyous expression when he saw
them; for he anticipated some amusement in the way of fighting, as he
took it for granted that the house was to be defended to the last
extremity. Having at once settled this point, he hurriedly looked about
the apartment, to see whether he could not find any eligible weapon
wherewith to resist the approaching foe; and in this particular his luck
was singularly great indeed. Over the fireplace there hung a rifle gun
and a flask of powder, and on the mantelpiece were several bullets that
fitted to a hair--the very things wanted. Never was man so fortunate.
Delighted beyond measure with his good luck, Terence seized the rifle,
loaded it in a twinkling, and again took his place at the window, which
he now banged up to its utmost height, and stood ready for mischief;
never dreaming that it was at all necessary to consult the master of the
house as to the manner in which he meant to receive his visiters, or
conceiving that anything else could be thought of in the case but
fighting.
"Blessings on them, the darlings! There they are," said Terence to
himself, as he stood at the window in the way already described, "as
large as life, and as lively as two-year olds." Muttering this, he
raised his rifle, and, putting it on full cock, "You'll see now, my
jewels," he added, "how beautifully I'll turn over that fellow on the
white charger."
He fired, and almost in the same instant the unfortunate man whom he had
selected fell lifeless from his horse.
Terence gave a shout of joy and triumph at the success of his shot, and
was proceeding with the utmost expedition to reload, when his arm was
suddenly seized from behind by Mr Cameron, who, in amazement at his
proceedings, and in great distress for their very serious result, which
he had seen from another part of the house, had hastened to the
apartment where he was.
"Good heavens, Mr Sullivan! what is the meaning of this?--what are you
doing?--what have you done?" he exclaimed, in great agitation. "We shall
be all put to the sword--by the laws of war, our lives are forfeited. It
was foolish--it was madness, Mr Sullivan!"
"Faith, my dear fellow," replied Terence, not a little astonished that
his proceedings should have been found fault with, "you may call it what
you please; but no man shall ever convince Terence Sullivan that it's
either folly or madness to kill an enemy when you can."
At this moment they were joined by M'Gregor; and in the next instant the
commanding officer of the troop--a very different man from
Stubbs--entered the apartment, with his drawn sword in one hand, and a
pistol in the other, and followed by about a dozen of his men; the
remainder being drawn up in front of the house.
"Gentlemen," said the officer, on his entrance, "you perceive, I trust,
that further resistance will be vain, and can only bring down
destruction on your own heads."
"Not so fast, my good fellow--we perceive nothing of the kind,"
exclaimed Terence, forcibly releasing himself from the grip which Mr
Cameron still held of him, and, in the next instant, preparing his rifle
for another charge. "Just keep off a bit, and let us have fair play for
our money. Shot about, my beautiful fellows. It's all I ask, and no
gentleman can refuse so reasonable a request."
"Terence, Terence!" exclaimed Mr Cameron, again laying his hand on the
right arm of his hot-headed friend, "listen to me, I beseech you, as a
special favour. I request of you, I beg of you, to desist."
"Well, well, my dear fellow," replied Terence, somewhat doggedly, and at
the same time resting the butt of his rifle on the floor, "do as you
please, only it's a cursed pity you wouldn't allow a few shots to be
exchanged between these gentlemen and me, if it were only for the
respectability of your own house."
"Don't you know, sir," here interposed the commanding officer of the
party, addressing Terence, "that by the laws of war I could----"
"Och, no more of that blarney, if you please, my dear fellow,"
interrupted Terence, impatiently. "Mr Cameron has told me all about
that already."
"If he has, then, sir," said the officer, haughtily, "you know the
extent of the obligation you lie under to my clemency."
Terence was about to reply to this insinuation, and probably in no very
measured terms, when he was stopped short by Mr Cameron, who dreaded
that some immediate act of violence would result from the continuance of
this irritating conversation.
"Mr Cameron," said the officer, now proceeding to the real purpose of
his visit, "my business here is to make this gentleman"--and he bowed
slightly to M'Gregor--"my prisoner, although this is not precisely the
spot in which I expected to find him. I feel it to be a painful duty,
sir," he said, now directly addressing Malcolm; "but it is unavoidable."
"I am aware of it, sir," replied the latter, "and am obliged by the
consideration which induces you to say it is unpleasant to you. I have
no doubt it is. I am ready to attend you, sir."
The officer bowed, and now turning to Terence, "You will please, also,
sir, consider yourself as my prisoner. Your rashness and folly have
placed you in a very precarious predicament. Serjeant," he added,
addressing a non-commissioned officer, "remain here, keeping six men
with you, with these gentlemen, till I return; and see that you guard
against escape."
Saying this, he again bowed, and left the apartment. In a minute after
he was mounted, and off with his troop, in pursuit of some object of a
similar kind with that which had brought him to Duntruskin.
"This is a devil of a business, Mac," said Terence, when the officer had
left the apartment; then sinking his voice, so as to be heard only by
Malcolm--"but I think we three might clear the room of these fellows, if
we set to it with right good-will. What say you to try? I'll begin."
"Hush," said M'Gregor, under his breath--"madness, Terence, madness. We
are fairly in for it, and must just abide the consequences. Our doom is
sealed. In plain English, we must hang for it, Terence."
"Faith, and that we won't, if we can help it, Mac; and we'll try whether
it can be helped or not," said Terence. "We'll get the fellows drunk, if
we can, and that will be always one step gained.--I say, serjeant," he
added, now speaking out, and confronting the person he addressed, "I
think you're a countryman of my own."
"I don't know, sir," replied the serjeant, in a brogue that at once
showed Terence's conjecture was right--"I am from Ireland."
"I thought so," rejoined the latter. "I saw potatoes and butter-milk
written on your sweet countenance as plain as a pike-staff. Perhaps,
now, you wouldn't have any objection to take a small matter of
refreshment yourself, nor to allow your men to partake of it, if our
friend, Mr Cameron here, would be kind enough to offer it."
"No, certainly not, sir," replied the serjeant.
"Mr Cameron," continued Terence, and now turning to the person he named,
"would ye be good enough to order a little whisky for the lads here; for
we'll have a long march of it by and by, and they'll be the better of
something to help them over the stones."
A large black bottle of the stimulative spoken of by Terence was
instantly brought; when the latter, installing himself master of the
ceremonies, seized it, and began to deal about its contents with
unsparing liberality.
"Come now, my lads," he said, after having completed three rounds of the
black-jack, "make yourselves as comfortable as a rat in a corn-chest.
Here's the stuff," he continued, slapping the bottle, and commencing a
fourth progress with it, "that'll make ye forget the sins and sorrows
of your wicked, lives. Won't it now, serjeant?"
"Troth and it will, sir, I'll be sworn," replied the latter, whose eyes
were already twinkling in his head, and his articulation fast thickening
into utter unintelligibility; "it's as good for one as a sight of the
quartermaster at pay-day."
"Right, serjeant, right," exclaimed Terence; "I see your education
hasn't been neglected. You have had some experience of the world,
serjeant, and know some of its hardships."
"Faith, and it's yourself, sir, may say that of a man who has been
hundreds of times in the saddle thirteen days out of the fortnight;
living in the air, as one may say, night and day, and never allowed to
put his foot on the ground, no more than if it had been covered with
china tea-cups."
"No joke, serjeant--by my faith, no joke," replied Terence; and again he
made a round with the bottle, a proceeding which brought matters fairly
to a crisis. The faces of the soldiers suddenly became as red as their
coats; their eyes began to dance in their heads; and they were now all
talking together at the tops of their voices, shouting out at intervals,
"Long life and glory" to their entertainer. Nor was the serjeant himself
in any better condition than his men; but his genius, under the
influence of liquor, took a musical direction, and he began trolling
scraps of songs; for, as his memory failed him in almost every instance
in these attempts, he was compelled to make up by variety what he wanted
in continuous matter. Thus favourably, then, were affairs going on for
Terence's design; and there was every appearance that the men would soon
be in such a state as should render escape from them a matter of no very
difficult accomplishment. But lo! just as the flow of mirth and
good-fellowship had attained its height, another serjeant, detached with
an additional half-dozen of men, from the troop that had visited the
house in the morning, suddenly entered the apartment, with orders from
the commanding officer, to the effect that the party which had been left
with the prisoners should proceed immediately to Fort George with
Sullivan, and that they themselves were to remain with M'Gregor till
their officer came.