Early the next morning (Friday, 22nd) a boat came with provisions, and
Andie placed a packet in my hand. The cover was without address but
sealed with a Government seal. It enclosed two notes. "Mr. Balfour can
now see for himself it is too late to meddle. His conduct will be
observed and his discretion rewarded." So ran the first, which seemed to
be laboriously writ with the left hand. There was certainly nothing in
these expressions to compromise the writer, even if that person could be
found; the seal, which formidably served instead of signature, was
affixed to a separate sheet on which there was no scratch of writing;
and I had to confess that (so far) my adversaries knew what they were
doing, and to digest as well as I was able the threat that peeped under
the promise.

But the second enclosure was by far the more surprising. It was in a
lady's hand of writ. "_Maister Dauvit Balfour is informed a friend was
speiring for him, and her eyes were of the grey_," it ran--and seemed so
extraordinary a piece to come to my hands at such a moment and under
cover of a Government seal, that I stood stupid. Catriona's grey eyes
shone in my remembrance. I thought, with a bound of pleasure, she must
be the friend. But who should the writer be, to have her billet thus
enclosed with Prestongrange's? And of all wonders, why was it thought
needful to give me this pleasing but most inconsequential intelligence
upon the Bass? For the writer, I could hit upon none possible except
Miss Grant. Her family, I remembered, had remarked on Catriona's eyes
and even named her for their colour; and she herself had been much in
the habit to address me with a broad pronunciation, by way of a sniff, I
supposed, at my rusticity. No doubt, besides, but she lived in the same
house as this letter came from. So there remained but one step to be
accounted for; and that was how Prestongrange should have permitted her
at all in an affair so secret, or let her daft-like billet go in the
same cover with his own. But even here I had a glimmering. For, first of
all, there was something rather alarming about the young lady, and papa
might be more under her domination than I knew. And second, there was
the man's continual policy to be remembered, how his conduct had been
continually mingled with caresses, and he had scarce ever, in the midst
of so much contention, laid aside a mask of friendship. He must conceive
that my imprisonment had incensed me. Perhaps this little jesting,
friendly message was intended to disarm my rancour?

I will be honest--and I think it did. I felt a sudden warmth towards
that beautiful Miss Grant, that she should stoop to so much interest in
my affairs. The summoning up of Catriona moved me of itself to milder
and more cowardly counsels. If the Advocate knew of her and of our
acquaintance--if I should please him by some of that "discretion" at
which his letter pointed--to what might not this lead? _In vain is the
net spread in the sight of any fowl_, the scripture says. Well, fowls
must be wiser than folk! For I thought I perceived the policy, and yet
fell in with it.

I was in this frame, my heart beating, the grey eyes plain before me
like two stars, when Andie broke in upon my musing.

"I see ye hae gotten guid news," said he.

I found him looking curiously in my face; with that, there came before
me like a vision of James Stewart and the court of Inverary; and my mind
turned at once like a door upon its hinges. Trials, I reflected,
sometimes draw out longer than is looked for. Even if I came to Inverary
just too late, something might yet be attempted in the interests of
James--and in those of my own character, the best would be accomplished.
In a moment, it seemed without thought, I had a plan devised.

"Andie," said I, "is it still to be to-morrow?"

He told me nothing was changed.

"Was anything said about the hour?" I asked.

He told me it was to be two o'clock afternoon.

"And about the place?" I pursued.

"Whatten place?" says Andie.

"The place I'm to be landed at," said I.

He owned there was nothing as to that.

"Very well, then," I said, "this shall be mine to arrange. The wind is
in the east, my road lies westward; keep your boat, I hire it; let us
work up the Forth all day; and land me at two o'clock to-morrow at the
westmost we'll can have reached."

"Ye daft callant!" he cried, "ye would try for Inverary after a'!"

"Just that, Andie," says I.

"Weel, ye're ill to beat!" says he. "And I was kind o' sorry for ye a'
day yesterday," he added. "Ye see, I was never entirely sure till then,
which way of it ye really wantit."

Here was a spur to a lame horse!

"A word in your ear, Andie," said I. "This plan of mine has another
advantage yet. We can leave these Hielandmen behind us on the rock, and
one of your boats from the Castleton can bring them off to-morrow. Yon
Neil has a queer eye when he regards you; maybe, if I was once out of
the gate there might be knives again; these red-shanks are unco
grudgeful. And if there should come to be any question, here is your
excuse. Our lives were in danger by these savages; being answerable for
my safety, you chose the part to bring me from their neighbourhood and
detain me the rest of the time on board your boat; and do you know,
Andie?" says I, with a smile, "I think it was very wisely chosen."

"The truth is I have nae goo for Neil," says Andie, "nor he for me, I'm
thinking; and I would like ill to come to my hands wi' the man. Tam
Anster will make a better hand of it with the cattle onyway." (For this
man, Anster, came from Fife, where the Gaelic is still spoken.) "Ay,
ay!" says Andie, "Tam'll can deal with them the best. And troth! the
mair I think of it, the less I see what way we would be required. The
place--ay, feggs! they had forgot the place. Eh, Shaws, ye're a
lang-heided chield when ye like! Forby that I'm awing ye my life," he
added, with more solemnity, and offered me his hand upon the bargain.

Whereupon, with scarce more words, we stepped suddenly on board the
boat, cast off, and set the lug. The Gregara were then busy upon
breakfast, for the cookery was their usual part; but, one of them
stepping to the battlements, our flight was observed before we were
twenty fathoms from the rock; and the three of them ran about the ruins
and the landing-shelf, for all the world like ants about a broken nest,
hailing and crying on us to return. We were still in both the lee and
the shadow of the rock, which last lay broad upon the waters, but
presently came forth in almost the same moment into the wind and
sunshine; the sail filled, the boat heeled to the gunwale, and we swept
immediately beyond sound of the men's voices. To what terrors they
endured upon the rock, where they were now deserted without the
countenance of any civilised person or so much as the protection of a
Bible, no limit can be set; nor had they any brandy left to be their
consolation, for even in the haste and secrecy of our departure Andie
had managed to remove it.

It was our first care to set Anster ashore in a cove by the Glenteithy
Rocks, so that the deliverance of our maroons might be duly seen to the
next day. Thence we kept away up Firth. The breeze, which was then so
spirited, swiftly declined, but never wholly failed us. All day we kept
moving, though often not much more; and it was after dark ere we were up
with the Queensferry. To keep the letter of Andie's engagement (or what
was left of it) I must remain on board, but I thought no harm to
communicate with the shore in writing. On Prestongrange's cover, where
the Government seal must have a good deal surprised my correspondent, I
writ, by the boat's lantern, a few necessary words, and Andie carried
them to Rankeillor. In about an hour he came aboard again, with a purse
of money and the assurance that a good horse should be standing saddled
for me by two to-morrow at Clackmannan Pool. This done, and the boat
riding by her stone anchor, we lay down to sleep under the sail.

We were in the Pool the next day long ere two; and there was nothing
left for me but sit and wait. I felt little alacrity upon my errand. I
would have been glad of any passable excuse to lay it down; but none
being to be found, my uneasiness was no less great than if I had been
running to some desired pleasure. By shortly after one the horse was at
the waterside, and I could see a man walking it to and fro till I should
land, which vastly swelled my impatience. Andie ran the moment of my
liberation very fine, showing himself a man of his bare word, but scarce
serving his employers with a heaped measure; and by about fifty seconds
after two I was in the saddle and on the full stretch for Stirling. In a
little more than an hour I had passed that town, and was already
mounting Alan Water side, when the weather broke in a small tempest. The
rain blinded me, the wind had nearly beat me from the saddle, and the
first darkness of the night surprised me in a wilderness still some way
east of Balwhidder, not very sure of my direction and mounted on a horse
that began already to be weary.

In the press of my hurry, and to be spared the delay and annoyance of a
guide, I had followed (so far as it was possible for any horseman) the
line of my journey with Alan. This I did with open eyes, foreseeing a
great risk in it, which the tempest had now brought to a reality. The
last that I knew of where I was, I think it must have been about Uam
Var; the hour perhaps six at night. I must still think it great good
fortune that I got about eleven to my destination, the house of Duncan
Dhu. Where I had wandered in the interval perhaps the horse could tell.
I know we were twice down, and once over the saddle and for a moment
carried away in a roaring burn. Steed and rider were bemired up to the
eyes.

From Duncan I had news of the trial. It was followed in all these
Highland regions with religious interest; news of it spread from
Inverary as swift as men could travel; and I was rejoiced to learn that,
up to a late hour that Saturday, it was not yet concluded; and all men
began to suppose it must spread over to the Monday. Under the spur of
this intelligence I would not sit to eat; but, Duncan having agreed to
be my guide, took the road again on foot, with the piece in my hand and
munching as I went. Duncan brought with him a flask of usquebaugh and a
hand-lantern; which last enlightened us just so long as we could find
houses where to rekindle it, for the thing leaked outrageously and blew
out with every gust. The more part of the night we walked blindfold
among sheets of rain, and day found us aimless on the mountains. Hard by
we struck a hut on a burn-side, where we got a bite and a direction;
and, a little before the end of the sermon, came to the kirk doors of
Inverary.

The rain had somewhat washed the upper parts of me, but I was still
bogged as high as to the knees; I streamed water; I was so weary I could
hardly limp, and my face was like a ghost's. I stood certainly more in
need of a change of raiment and a bed to lie on, than of all the
benefits in Christianity. For all which (being persuaded the chief point
for me was to make myself immediately public) I set the door open,
entered that church with the dirty Duncan at my tails, and finding a
vacant place hard by, sat down.

"Thirteenthly, my brethren, and in parenthesis, the law itself must be
regarded as a means of grace," the minister was saying, in the voice of
one delighting to pursue an argument.

The sermon was in English on account of the assize. The judges were
present with their armed attendants, the halberts glittered in a corner
by the door, and the seats were thronged beyond custom with the array of
lawyers. The text was in Romans 5th and 13th--the minister a skilled
hand; and the whole of that able churchful--from Argyle, and my Lords
Elchies and Kilkerran, down to the halbertmen that came in their
attendance--was sunk with gathered brows in a profound critical
attention. The minister himself and a sprinkling of those about the door
observed our entrance at the moment and immediately forgot the same; the
rest either did not hear or would not heed; and I sat there amongst my
friends and enemies unremarked.

The first that I singled out was Prestongrange. He sat well forward,
like an eager horseman in the saddle, his lips moving with relish, his
eyes glued on the minister: the doctrine was clearly to his mind.
Charles Stewart, on the other hand, was half asleep, and looked harassed
and pale. As for Symon Fraser, he appeared like a blot, and almost a
scandal, in the midst of that attentive congregation, digging his hands
in his pockets, shifting his legs, clearing his throat, rolling up his
bald eyebrows and shooting out his eyes to right and left, now with a
yawn, now with a secret smile. At times too, he would take the Bible in
front of him, run it through, seem to read a bit, run it through again,
and stop and yawn prodigiously: the whole as if for exercise.

In the course of this restlessness his eye alighted on myself. He sat a
second stupefied, than tore a half leaf out of the Bible, scrawled upon
it with a pencil, and passed it with a whispered word to his next
neighbor. The note came to Prestongrange, who gave me but the one look;
thence it voyaged to the hands of Mr. Erskine; thence again to Argyle,
where he sat between the other two lords of session, and his Grace
turned and fixed me with an arrogant eye. The last of those interested
to observe my presence was Charlie Stewart, and he too began to pencil
and hand about despatches, none of which I was able to trace to their
destination in the crowd.

But the passage of these notes had aroused notice; all who were in the
secret (or supposed themselves to be so) were whispering
information--the rest questions; and the minister himself seemed quite
discountenanced by the flutter in the church and sudden stir and
whispering. His voice changed, he plainly faltered, nor did he again
recover the easy conviction and full tones of his delivery. It would be
a puzzle to him till his dying day, why a sermon that had gone with
triumph through four parts, should thus miscarry in the fifth.

As for me, I continued to sit there, very wet and weary, and a good deal
anxious as to what should happen next, but greatly exulting in my
success.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XVII

THE MEMORIAL


The last word of the blessing was scarce out of the minister's mouth
before Stewart had me by the arm. We were the first to be forth of the
church, and he made such extraordinary expedition that we were safe
within the four walls of a house before the street had begun to be
thronged with the home-going congregation.

"Am I yet in time?" I asked.

"Ay and no," said he. "The case is over; the jury is enclosed, and will
be so kind as let us ken their view of it to-morrow in the morning, the
same as I could have told it my own self three days ago before the play
began. The thing has been public from the start. The panel kent it, '_Ye
may do what ye will for me_,' whispers he two days ago. '_I ken my fate
by what the Duke of Argyle has just said to Mr. Macintosh_.' O, it's
been a scandal!

    The great Argyle he gaed before,
    He gart the cannons and guns to roar,

and the very macer cried 'Cruachan!' But now that I have got you again
I'll never despair. The oak shall go over the myrtle yet; we'll ding the
Campbells yet in their own town. Praise God that I should see the day!"

He was leaping with excitement, emptied out his mails upon the floor
that I might have a change of clothes, and incommoded me with his
assistance as I changed. What remained to be done, or how I was to do
it, was what he never told me nor, I believe, so much as thought of.
"We'll ding the Camphells yet!" that was still his overcome. And it was
forced home upon my mind how this, that had the externals of a sober
process of law, was in its essence a clan battle between savage clans. I
thought my friend the Writer none of the least savage. Who, that had
only seen him at a counsel's back before the Lord Ordinary or following
a golf ball and laying down his clubs on Bruntsfield links, could have
recognised for the same person this voluble and violent clansman?

James Stewart's counsel were four in number--Sheriffs Brown of Colstoun
and Miller, Mr. Robert Macintosh and Mr. Stewart younger of Stewart
Hall. These were covenanted to dine with the Writer after sermon, and I
was very obligingly included of the party. No sooner the cloth lifted,
and the first bowl very artfully compounded by Sheriff Miller, than we
fell to the subject in hand. I made a short narration of my seizure and
captivity, and was then examined and re-examined upon the circumstances
of the murder. It will be remembered this was the first time I had had
my say out, or the matter at all handled, among lawyers; and the
consequence was very dispiriting to the others and (I must own)
disappointing to myself.

"To sum up," said Colstoun, "you prove that Alan was on the spot; you
have heard him proffer menaces against Glenure; and though you assure us
he was not the man who fired, you leave a strong impression that he was
in league with him, and consenting, perhaps immediately assisting, in
the act. You show him besides, at the risk of his own liberty, actively
furthering the criminal's escape. And the rest of your testimony (so far
as the least material) depends on the bare word of Alan or of James, the
two accused. In short, you do not at all break, but only lengthen by one
personage, the chain that binds our client to the murderer; and I need
scarcely say that the introduction of a third accomplice rather
aggravates that appearance of a conspiracy which has been our stumbling
block from the beginning."

"I am of the same opinion," said Sheriff Miller. "I think we may all be
very much obliged to Prestongrange for taking a most uncomfortable
witness out of our way. And chiefly, I think, Mr. Balfour himself might
be obliged. For you talk of a third accomplice, but Mr. Balfour (in my
view) has very much the appearance of a fourth."

"Allow me, sirs!" interposed Stewart the Writer. "There is another view.
Here we have a witness--never fash whether material or not--a witness in
this cause, kidnapped by that old, lawless, bandit crew of the Glengyle
Macgregors, and sequestered for near upon a month in a bourock of old
cold ruins on the Bass. Move that and see what dirt you fling on the
proceedings! Sirs, this is a tale to make the world ring with! It would
be strange, with such a grip as this, if we couldnae squeeze out a
pardon for my client."

"And suppose we took up Mr. Balfour's cause to-morrow?" said Stewart
Hall. "I am much deceived or we should find so many impediments thrown
in our path, as that James should have been hanged before we had found a
court to hear us. This is a great scandal, but I suppose we have none of
us forgot a greater still, I mean the matter of the Lady Grange. The
woman was still in durance; my friend Mr. Hope of Rankeillor did what
was humanly possible; and how did he speed? He never got a warrant!
Well, it'll be the same now; the same weapons will be used. This is a
scene, gentlemen, of clan animosity. The hatred of the name which I have
the honor to bear, rages in high quarters. There is nothing here to be
viewed but naked Campbell spite and scurvy Campbell intrigue."

You may be sure this was to touch a welcome topic, and I sat for some
time in the midst of my learned counsel, almost deaved with their talk
but extremely little the wiser for its purport. The Writer was led into
some hot expressions; Colstoun must take him up and set him right; the
rest joined in on different sides, but all pretty noisy; the Duke of
Argyle was beaten like a blanket; King George came in for a few digs in
the by-going and a great deal of rather elaborate defence: and there was
only one person that seemed to be forgotten, and that was James of the
Glens.

Through all this Mr. Miller sat quiet. He was a slip of an oldish
gentleman, ruddy and twinkling; he spoke in a smooth rich voice, with an
infinite effect of pawkiness, dealing out each word the way an actor
does, to give the most expression possible; and even now, when he was
silent, and sat there with his wig laid aside, his glass in both hands,
his mouth funnily pursed, and his chin out, he seemed the mere picture
of a merry slyness. It was plain he had a word to say, and waited for
the fit occasion.

It came presently. Colstoun had wound up one of his speeches with some
expression of their duty to their client. His brother sheriff was
pleased, I suppose, with the transition. He took the table in his
confidence with a gesture and a look.

"That suggests to me a consideration which seems overlooked," said he.
"The interest of our client goes certainly before all, but the world
does not come to an end with James Stewart." Whereat he cocked his eye.
"I might condescend, _exempli gratia_, upon a Mr. George Brown, a Mr.
Thomas Miller, and a Mr. David Balfour. Mr. David Balfour has a very
good ground of complaint, and I think, gentlemen--if his story was
properly red out--I think there would be a number of wigs on the green."

The whole table turned to him with a common movement.

"Properly handled and carefully red out, his is a story that could
scarcely fail to have some consequence," he continued. "The whole
administration of justice, from its highest officer downward, would be
totally discredited; and it looks to me as if they would need to be
replaced." He seemed to shine with cunning as he said it. "And I need
not point out to ye that this of Mr. Balfour's would be a remarkable
bonny cause to appear in," he added.

Well, there they all were started on another hare; Mr. Balfour's cause,
and what kind of speeches could be there delivered, and what officials
could be thus turned out, and who would succeed to their positions. I
shall give but the two specimens. It was proposed to approach Symon
Fraser, whose testimony, if it could be obtained, could prove certainly
fatal to Argyle and Prestongrange. Miller highly approved of the
attempt. "We have here before us a dreeping roast," said he, "here is
cut-and-come-again for all." And methought all licked their lips. The
other was already near the end. Stewart the Writer was out of the body
with, delight, smelling vengeance on his chief enemy, the Duke.

"Gentlemen," cried he, charging his glass, "here is to Sheriff Miller.
His legal abilities are known to all. His culinary, this bowl in front
of us is here to speak for. But when it comes to the poleetical!"--cries
he, and drains the glass.

"Ay, but it will hardly prove politics in your meaning, my friend," said
the gratified Miller. "A revolution, if you like, and I think I can
promise you that historical writers shall date from Mr. Balfour's cause.
But properly guided, Mr. Stewart, tenderly guided, it shall prove a
peaceful revolution."

"And if the damned Campbells get their ears rubbed, what care I?" cries
Stewart, smiting down his fist.

It will be thought I was not very well pleased with all this, though I
could scarce forbear smiling at a kind of innocency in these old
intriguers. But it was not my view to have undergone so many sorrows for
the advancement of Sheriff Miller or to make a revolution in the
Parliament House: and I interposed accordingly with as much simplicity
of manner as I could assume.

"I have to thank you, gentlemen, for your advice," said I. "And now I
would like, by your leave, to set you two or three questions. There is
one thing that has fallen rather on one side, for instance: Will this
cause do any good to our friend James of the Glens?"

They seemed all a hair set back, and gave various answers, but
concurring practically in one point, that James had now no hope but in
the King's mercy.

"To proceed, then," said I, "will it do any good to Scotland? We have a
saying that it is an ill bird that fouls his own nest. I remember
hearing we had a riot in Edinburgh when I was an infant child, which
gave occasion to the late Queen to call this country barbarous; and I
always understood that we had rather lost than gained by that. Then came
the year 'Forty-five, which made Scotland to be talked of everywhere;
but I never heard it said we had anyway gained by the 'Forty-five. And
now we come to this cause of Mr. Balfour's, as you call it. Sheriff
Miller tells us historical writers are to date from it, and I would not
wonder. It is only my fear they would date from it as a period of
calamity and public reproach."

The nimble-witted Miller had already smelt where I was travelling to,
and made haste to get on the same road. "Forcibly put, Mr. Balfour,"
says he. "A weighty observe, sir."

"We have next to ask ourselves if it will be good for King George," I
pursued. "Sheriff Miller appears pretty easy upon this; but I doubt you
will scarce be able to pull down the house from under him, without his
Majesty coming by a knock or two, one of which might easily prove
fatal."

I gave them a chance to answer, but none volunteered.

"Of those for whom the case was to be profitable," I went on, "Sheriff
Miller gave us the names of several, among the which he was good enough
to mention mine. I hope he will pardon me if I think otherwise. I
believe I hung not the least back in this affair while there was life to
be saved; but I own I thought myself extremely hazarded, and I own I
think it would be a pity for a young man, with some idea of coming to
the bar, to ingrain upon himself the character of a turbulent, factious
fellow before he was yet twenty. As for James, it seems--at this date of
the proceedings, with the sentence as good as pronounced--he has no hope
but in the King's mercy. May not his Majesty, then, be more pointedly
addressed, the characters of these high officers sheltered from the
public, and myself kept out of a position which I think spells ruin for
me?"

They all sat and gazed into their glasses, and I could see they found my
attitude on the affair unpalatable. But Miller was ready at all events.

"If I may be allowed to put our young friend's notion in more formal
shape," says he, "I understand him to propose that we should embody the
fact of his sequestration, and perhaps some heads of the testimony he
was prepared to offer, in a memorial to the Crown. This plan has
elements of success. It is as likely as any other (and perhaps likelier)
to help our client. Perhaps his Majesty would have the goodness to feel
a certain gratitude to all concerned in such a memorial, which might be
construed into an expression of a very delicate loyalty; and I think, in
the drafting of the same, this view might be brought forward."

They all nodded to each other, not without sighs, for the former
alternative was doubtless more after their inclination.

"Paper then, Mr. Stewart, if you please," pursued Miller; "and I think
it might very fittingly be signed by the five of us here present, as
procurators for the 'condemned man.'"

"It can do none of us any harm at least," says Colstoun, heaving another
sigh, for he had seen himself Lord Advocate the last ten minutes.

Thereupon they set themselves, not very enthusiastically, to draft the
memorial--a process in the course of which they soon caught fire; and I
had no more ado but to sit looking on and answer an occasional question.
The paper was very well expressed; beginning with a recitation of the
facts about myself, the reward offered for my apprehension, my
surrender, the pressure brought to bear upon me; my sequestration; and
my arrival at Inverary in time to be too late; going on to explain the
reasons of loyalty and public interest for which it was agreed to waive
any right of action; and winding up with a forcible appeal to the King's
mercy on behalf of James.

Methought I was a good deal sacrificed, and rather represented in the
light of a firebrand of a fellow whom my cloud of lawyers had restrained
with difficulty from extremes. But I let it pass, and made but the one
suggestion, that I should be described as ready to deliver my own
evidence and adduce that of others before any commission of inquiry--and
the one demand, that I should be immediately furnished with a copy.

Colstoun hummed and hawed. "This is a very confidential document," said
he.

"And my position towards Prestongrange is highly peculiar," I replied.
"No question but I must have touched his heart at our first interview,
so that he has since stood my friend consistently. But for him,
gentlemen, I must now be lying dead or awaiting my sentence alongside
poor James. For which reason I choose to communicate to him the fact of
this memorial as soon as it is copied. You are to consider also that
this step will make for my protection. I have enemies here accustomed to
drive hard; his Grace is in his own country, Lovat by his side; and if
there should hang any ambiguity over our proceedings, I think I might
very well awake in gaol."

Not finding any very ready answer to these considerations, my company of
advisers were at the last persuaded to consent, and made only this
condition that I was to lay the paper before Prestongrange with the
express compliments of all concerned.

The Advocate was at the castle dining with his Grace. By the hand of one
of Colstoun's servants I sent him a billet asking for an interview, and
received a summons to meet him at once in a private house of the town.
Here I found him alone in a chamber; from his face there was nothing to
be gleaned; yet I was not so unobservant but what I spied some halberts
in the hall, and not so stupid but what I could gather he was prepared
to arrest me there and then, should it appear advisable.

"So, Mr. David, this is you?" said he.

"Where I fear I am not overly welcome, my lord," said I. "And I would
like before I go further to express my sense of your lordship's
continued good offices, even should they now cease."

"I have heard of your gratitude before," he replied drily, "and I think
this can scarce be the matter you called me from my wine to listen to. I
would remember also, if I were you, that you still stand on a very boggy
foundation."

"Not now, my lord, I think," said I; "and if your lordship will but
glance an eye along this, you will perhaps think as I do."

He read it sedulously through, frowning heavily; then turned back to one
part and another which he seemed to weigh and compare the effect of. His
face a little lightened.

"This is not so bad but what it might be worse," said he; "though I am
still likely to pay dear for my acquaintance with Mr. David Balfour."

"Rather for your indulgence to that unlucky young man, my lord," said I.

He still skimmed the paper, and all the while his spirits seemed to
mend.

"And to whom am I indebted for this?" he asked presently. "Other
counsels must have been discussed, I think. Who was it proposed this
private method? Was it Miller?"

"My lord, it was myself," said I. "These gentlemen have shown me no such
consideration, as that I should deny myself any credit I can fairly
claim, or spare them any responsibility they should properly bear. And
the mere truth is, that they were all in favour of a process which
should have remarkable consequences in the Parliament House, and prove
for them (in one of their own expressions) a dripping roast. Before I
intervened, I think they were on the point of sharing out the different
law appointments. Our friend Mr. Symon was to be taken in upon some
composition."

Prestongrange smiled. "These are our friends!" said he. "And what were
your reasons for dissenting, Mr. David?"

I told them without concealment, expressing, however, with more force
and volume those which regarded Prestongrange himself.

"You do me no more than justice," said he. "I have fought as hard in
your interest as you have fought against mine. And how came you here
to-day?" he asked. "As the case drew out, I began to grow uneasy that I
had clipped the period so fine, and I was even expecting you to-morrow.
But to-day--I never dreamed of it."

I was not, of course, going to betray Andie.

"I suspect there is some very weary cattle by the road," said I.

"If I had known you were such a mosstrooper you should have tasted
longer of the Bass," says he.

"Speaking of which, my lord, I return your letter." And I gave him the
enclosure in the counterfeit hand.

"There was the cover also with the seal," said he.

"I have it not," said I. "It bore naught but the address, and could not
compromise a cat. The second enclosure I have, and with your permission,
I desire to keep it."

I thought he winced a little, but he said nothing to the point.
"To-morrow," he resumed, "our business here is to be finished, and I
proceed by Glasgow. I would be very glad to have you of my party, Mr.
David."

"My lord...." I began.

"I do not deny it will be of service to me," he interrupted. "I desire
even that, when we shall come to Edinburgh you should alight at my
house. You have very warm friends in the Miss Grants, who will be
overjoyed to have you to themselves. If you think I have been of use to
you, you can thus easily repay me, and so far from losing, may reap some
advantage by the way. It is not every strange young man who is presented
in society by the King's Advocate."

Often enough already (in our brief relations) this gentleman had caused
my head to spin; no doubt but what for a moment he did so again now.
Here was the old fiction still maintained of my particular favour with
his daughters, one of whom had been so good as laugh at me, while the
other two had scarce deigned to remark the fact of my existence. And now
I was to ride with my lord to Glascow; I was to dwell with him in
Edinburgh; I was to be brought into society under his protection! That
he should have so much good-nature as to forgive me was surprising
enough; that he could wish to take me up and serve me seemed impossible;
and I began to seek for some ulterior meaning. One was plain. If I
became his guest, repentance was excluded; I could never think better of
my present design and bring any action. And besides, would not my
presence in his house draw out the whole pungency of the memorial? For
that complaint could not be very seriously regarded, if the person
chiefly injured was the guest of the official most incriminated. As I
thought upon this, I could not quite refrain from smiling.

"This is in the nature of a countercheck to the memorial?" said I.

"You are cunning, Mr. David," said he, "and you do not wholly guess
wrong; the fact will be of use to me in my defence. Perhaps, however,
you underrate my friendly sentiments, which are perfectly genuine. I
have a respect for you, Mr. David, mingled with awe," says he, smiling.

"I am more than willing, I am earnestly desirous to meet your wishes,"
said I. "It is my design to be called to the bar, where your lordship's
countenance would be invaluable; and I am besides sincerely grateful to
yourself and family for different marks of interest and of indulgence.
The difficulty is here. There is one point in which we pull two ways.
You are trying to hang James Stewart, I am trying to save him. In so far
as my riding with you would better your lordship's defence, I am at your
lordship's orders; but in so far as it would help to hang James Stewart,
you see me at a stick."

I thought he swore to himself. "You should certainly be called; the bar
is the true scene for your talents," says he, bitterly, and then fell a
while silent. "I will tell you," he presently resumed, "there is no
question of James Stewart, for or against. James is a dead man; his life
is given and taken--bought (if you like it better) and sold; no memorial
can help--no defalcation of a faithful Mr. David hurt him. Blow high,
blow low, there will be no pardon for James Stewart: and take that for
said! The question is now of myself: am I to stand or fall? and I do not
deny to you that I am in some danger. But will Mr. David Balfour
consider why? It is not because I have pushed the case unduly against
James; for that, I am sure of condonation. And it is not because I have
sequestered Mr. David on a rock, though it will pass under that colour;
but because I did not take the ready and plain path, to which I was
pressed repeatedly, and send Mr. David to his grave or to the gallows.
Hence the scandal--hence this damned memorial," striking the paper on
his leg. "My tenderness for you has brought me in this difficulty. I
wish to know if your tenderness to your own conscience is too great to
let you help me out of it?"

No doubt but there was much of the truth in what he said; if James was
past helping, whom was it more natural that I should turn to help than
just the man before me, who had helped myself so often, and was even now
setting me a pattern of patience? I was besides not only weary, but
beginning to be ashamed of my perpetual attitude of suspicion and
refusal.

"If you will name the time and place, I will be punctually ready to
attend your lordship," said I.

He shook hands with me. "And I think my misses have some news for you,"
says he, dismissing me.

I came away, vastly pleased to have my peace made, yet a little
concerned in conscience; nor could I help wondering, as I went back,
whether, perhaps, I had not been a scruple too good-natured. But there
was the fact, that this was a man that might have been my father, an
able man, a great dignitary, and one that, in the hour of my need, had
reached a hand to my assistance. I was in the better humour to enjoy the
remainder of that evening, which I passed with the advocates, in
excellent company no doubt, but perhaps with rather more than a
sufficiency of punch: for though I went early to bed I have no clear
mind of how I got there.

       *       *       *       *       *




CHAPTER XVIII

THE TEE'D BALL


On the morrow, from the justices' private room, where none could see me,
I heard the verdict given in and judgment rendered upon James. The
Duke's words I am quite sure I have correctly; and since that famous
passage has been made a subject of dispute, I may as well commemorate my
version. Having referred to the year '45, the chief of the Campbells,
sitting as Justice-General upon the bench, thus addressed the
unfortunate Stewart before him: "If you had been successful in that
rebellion, you might have been giving the law where you have now
received the judgment of it; we, who are this day your judges, might
have been tried before one of your mock courts of judicature; and then
you might have been satiated with the blood of any name or clan to which
you had an aversion."

"This is to let the cat out of the bag, indeed," thought I. And that was
the general impression. It was extraordinary how the young advocate lads
took hold and made a mock of this speech, and how scarce a meal passed
but what some one would get in the words: "And then you might have been
satiated." Many songs were made in that time for the hour's diversion,
and are near all forgot. I remember one began:

    What do ye want the bluid of, bluid of?
      Is it a name, or is it a clan,
      Or is it an aefauld Hielandman,
    That ye want the bluid of, bluid of?

Another went to my old favourite air, _The House of Airlie_, and began
thus:

    It fell on a day when Argyle was on the bench,
      That they served him a Stewart for his denner.

And one of the verses ran:

    Then up and spak the Duke, and flyted on his cook,
      I regaird it as a sensible aspersion,
    That I would sup ava', an' satiate my maw,
      With the bluid of ony clan of my aversion.

James was as fairly murdered as though the Duke had got a fowling-piece
and stalked him. So much of course I knew: but others knew not so much,
and were more affected by the items of scandal that came to light in the
progress of the cause. One of the chief was certainly this sally of the
justice's. It was run hard by another of a juryman, who had struck into
the midst of Colstoun's speech for the defence with a "Pray, sir, cut it
short, we are quite weary," which seemed the very excess of impudence
and simplicity. But some of my new lawyer friends were still more
staggered with an innovation that had disgraced and even vitiated the
proceedings. One witness was never called. His name, indeed, was
printed, where it may still be seen on the fourth page of the list:
"James Drummond, _alias_ Macgregor, _alias_ James More, late tenant in
Inveronachile"; and his precognition had been taken, as the manner is,
in writing. He had remembered or invented (God help him) matter which
was lead in James Stewart's shoes, and I saw was like to prove wings to
his own. This testimony it was highly desirable to bring to the notice
of the jury, without exposing the man himself to the perils of
cross-examination; and the way it was brought about was a matter of
surprise to all. For the paper was handed round (like a curiosity) in
court; passed through the jury-box, where it did its work; and
disappeared again (as though by accident) before it reached the counsel
for the prisoner. This was counted a most insidious device; and that the
name of James More should be mingled up with it filled me with shame for
Catriona and concern for myself.

The following day, Prestongrange and I, with a considerable company, set
out for Glasgow, where (to my impatience) we continued to linger some
time in a mixture of pleasure and affairs. I lodged with my lord, with
whom I was encouraged to familiarity; had my place at entertainments;
was presented to the chief guests; and altogether made more of than I
thought accorded either with my parts or station; so that, on strangers
being present, I would often blush for Prestongrange. It must be owned
the view I had taken of the world in these last months was fit to cast a
gloom upon my character. I had met many men, some of them leaders in
Israel whether by their birth or talents; and who among them all had
shown clean hands? As for the Browns and Millers, I had seen their
self-seeking, I could never again respect them. Prestongrange was the
best yet; he had saved me, had spared me rather, when others had it in
their minds to murder me outright; but the blood of James lay at his
door; and I thought his present dissimulation with myself a thing below
pardon. That he should affect to find pleasure in my discourse almost
surprised me out of my patience. I would sit and watch him with a kind
of a slow fire of anger in my bowels. "Ah, friend, friend," I would
think to myself, "if you were but through with this affair of the
memorial, would you not kick me in the streets?" Here I did him, as
events have proved, the most foul injustice; and I think he was at once
far more sincere, and a far more artful performer than I supposed.

But I had some warrant for my incredulity in the behaviour of that court
of young advocates that hung about him in the hope of patronage. The
sudden favour of a lad not previously heard of troubled them at first
out of measure; but two days were not gone by before I found myself
surrounded with flattery and attention. I was the same young man, and
neither better nor bonnier, that they had rejected a month before; and
now there was no civility too fine for me! The same, do I say? It was
not so; and the byname by which I went behind my back confirmed it.
Seeing me so firm with the Advocate, and persuaded that I was to fly
high and far, they had taken a word from the golfing green, and called
me _the Tee'd Ball_.[14] I was told I was now "one of themselves"; I was
to taste of their soft lining, who had already made my own experience of
the roughness of the outer husk; and the one, to whom I had been
presented in Hope Park, was so assured as even to remind me of that
meeting. I told him I had not the pleasure of remembering it.

"Why," says he, "it was Miss Grant herself presented me! My name is
so-and-so."

"It may very well be, sir," said I, "but I have kept no mind of it."

At which he desisted; and in the midst of the disgust that commonly
overflowed my spirits I had a glisk of pleasure.

But I have not patience to dwell upon that time at length. When I was in
company with these young politics I was borne down with shame for myself
and my own plain ways, and scorn for them and their duplicity. Of the
two evils, I thought Prestongrange to be the least; and while I was
always as stiff as buckram to the young bloods, I made rather a
dissimulation of my hard feelings towards the Advocate, and was (in old
Mr. Campbell's word) "soople to the laird." Himself commented on the
difference, and bid me be more of my age, and make friends with my young
comrades.

I told him I was slow of making friends.

"I will take the word back," said he. "But there is such a thing as
_Fair gude e'en and fair gude day_, Mr. David. These are the same young
men with whom you are to pass your days and get through life: your
backwardness has a look of arrogance; and unless you can assume a little
more lightness of manner, I fear you will meet difficulties in the
path."

"It will be an ill job to make a silk purse of a sow's ear," said I.

On the morning of October 1st I was awakened by the clattering in of an
express; and getting to my window almost before he had dismounted, I saw
the messenger had ridden hard. Somewhile after I was called to
Prestongrange, where he was sitting in his bedgown and nightcap, with
his letters around him.

"Mr. David," said he, "I have a piece of news for you. It concerns some
friends of yours, of whom I sometimes think you are a little ashamed,
for you have never referred to their existence."

I suppose I blushed.

"I see you understand, since you make the answering signal," said he.
"And I must compliment you on your excellent taste in beauty. But do you
know, Mr. David, this seems to me a very enterprising lass? She crops up
from every side. The Government of Scotland appears unable to proceed
for Mistress Katrine Drummond, which was somewhat the case (no great
while back) with a certain Mr. David Balfour. Should not these make a
good match? Her first intromission in politics--but I must not tell you
that story, the authorities have decided you are to hear it otherwise
and from a livelier narrator. This new example is more serious, however;
and I am afraid I must alarm you with the intelligence that she is now
in prison."

I cried out.

"Yes," said he, "the little lady is in prison. But I would not have you
to despair. Unless you (with your friends and memorials) shall procure
my downfall, she is to suffer nothing."

"But what has she done? What is her offence?" I cried.

"It might be almost construed a high treason," he returned, "for she has
broke the King's Castle of Edinburgh."

"The lady is much my friend," I said. "I know you would not work me if
the thing were serious."

"And yet it is serious in a sense," said he; "for this rogue of a
Katrine--or Cateran, as we may call her--has set adrift again upon the
world that very doubtful character, her papa."

Here was one of my previsions justified: James More was once again at
liberty. He had lent his men to keep me a prisoner; he had volunteered
his testimony in the Appin case, and the same (no matter by what
subterfuge) had been employed to influence the jury. Now came his
reward, and he was free. It might please the authorities to give to it
the colour of an escape; but I knew better--I knew it was the fulfilment
of a bargain. The same course of thought relieved me of the least alarm
for Catriona. She might be thought to have broke prison for her father;
she might have believed so herself. But the chief hand in the whole
business was that of Prestongrange; and I was sure, so far from letting
her come to punishment, he would not suffer her to be even tried.
Whereupon thus came out of me the not very politic ejaculation:

"Ah! I was expecting that!"

"You have at times a great deal of discretion too!" says Prestongrange.

"And what is my lord pleased to mean by that?" I asked.

"I was just marvelling," he replied, "that being so clever as to draw
these inferences, you should not be clever enough to keep them to
yourself. But I think you would like to hear the details of the affair.
I have received two versions: and the least official is the more full
and far the more entertaining, being from the lively pen of my eldest
daughter. 'Here is all the town bizzing with a fine piece of work,' she
writes, 'and what would make the thing more noted (if it were only
known) the malefactor is a _protГ©gГ©e_ of his lordship my papa. I am sure
your heart is too much in your duty (if it were nothing else) to have
forgotten Grey Eyes. What does she do, but get a broad hat with the
flaps open, a long hairy-like man's great-coat, and a big gravatt; kilt
her coats up to _Gude kens whaur_, clap two pair of boot-hose upon her
legs, take a pair of _clouted brogues_[15] in her hand, and off to the
Castle? Here she gives herself out to be a soutar[16] in the employ of
James More, and gets admitted to his cell, the lieutenant (who seems to
have been full of pleasantry) making sport among his soldiers of the
soutar's great-coat. Presently they hear disputation and the sound of
blows inside. Out flies the cobbler, his coat flying, the flaps of his
hat beat about his face, and the lieutenant and his soldiers mock at him
as he runs off. They laughed not so hearty the next time they had
occasion to visit the cell, and found nobody but a tall, pretty,
grey-eyed lass in the female habit! As for the cobbler, he was "over the
hills ayont Dumblane," and it's thought that poor Scotland will have to
console herself without him. I drank Catriona's health this night in
public. Indeed, the whole town admires her; and I think the beaux would
wear bits of her garters in their button-holes if they could only get
them. I would have gone to visit her in prison too, only I remembered in
time I was papa's daughter; so I wrote her a billet instead, which I
entrusted to the faithful Doig, and I hope you will admit I can be
political when I please. The same faithful gomeral is to despatch this
letter by the express along with those of the wiseacres, so that you may
hear Tom Fool in company with Solomon. Talking of _gomerals_, do tell
_Dauvit Balfour_. I would I could see the face of him at the thought of
a long-legged lass in such a predicament! to say nothing of the levities
of your affectionate daughter, and his respectful friend.' So my rascal
signs herself!" continued Prestongrange. "And you see, Mr. David, it is
quite true what I tell you, that my daughters regard you with the most
affectionate playfulness."