shuttle.  Syne, upon a suddenty, and wi' the ae dreidfu' skelloch,

Tod sprang up frae his hinderlands and fell forrit on the wab, a

bluidy corp.



When the corp was examined the leid draps hadnae played buff upon

the warlock's body; sorrow a leid drap was to be fund! but there

was grandfaither's siller tester in the puddock's heart of him.





Andie had scarce done when there befell a mighty silly affair that

had its consequence.  Neil, as I have said, was himself a great

narrator.  I have heard since that he knew all the stories in the

Highlands; and thought much of himself, and was thought much of by

others on the strength of it.  Now Andie's tale reminded him of one

he had already heard.



"She would ken that story afore," he said.  "She was the story of

Uistean More M'Gillie Phadrig and the Gavar Vore."



"It is no sic a thing," cried Andie.  "It is the story of my

faither (now wi' God) and Tod Lapraik.  And the same in your

beard," says he; "and keep the tongue of ye inside your Hielant

chafts!"



In dealing with Highlanders it will be found, and has been shown in

history, how well it goes with Lowland gentlefolk; but the thing

appears scarce feasible for Lowland commons.  I had already

remarked that Andie was continually on the point of quarrelling

with our three MacGregors, and now, sure enough, it was to come.



"Thir will be no words to use to shentlemans," says Neil.



"Shentlemans!" cries Andie.  "Shentlemans, ye hielant stot!  If God

would give ye the grace to see yoursel' the way that ithers see ye,

ye would throw your denner up."



There came some kind of a Gaelic oath from Neil, and the black

knife was in his hand that moment.



There was no time to think; and I caught the Highlander by the leg,

and had him down, and his armed hand pinned out, before I knew what

I was doing.  His comrades sprang to rescue him, Andie and I were

without weapons, the Gregara three to two.  It seemed we were

beyond salvation, when Neil screamed in his own tongue, ordering

the others back, and made his submission to myself in a manner the

most abject, even giving me up his knife which (upon a repetition

of his promises) I returned to him on the morrow.



Two things I saw plain:  the first, that I must not build too high

on Andie, who had shrunk against the wall and stood there, as pale

as death, till the affair was over; the second, the strength of my

own position with the Highlanders, who must have received

extraordinary charges to be tender of my safety.  But if I thought

Andie came not very well out in courage, I had no fault to find

with him upon the account of gratitude.  It was not so much that he

troubled me with thanks, as that his whole mind and manner appeared

changed; and as he preserved ever after a great timidity of our

companions, he and I were yet more constantly together.







CHAPTER XVI--THE MISSING WITNESS







On the seventeenth, the day I was trysted with the Writer, I had

much rebellion against fate.  The thought of him waiting in the

King's Arms, and of what he would think, and what he would say when

next we met, tormented and oppressed me. The truth was

unbelievable, so much I had to grant, and it seemed cruel hard I

should be posted as a liar and a coward, and have never consciously

omitted what it was possible that I should do.  I repeated this

form of words with a kind of bitter relish, and re-examined in that

light the steps of my behaviour.  It seemed I had behaved to James

Stewart as a brother might; all the past was a picture that I could

be proud of, and there was only the present to consider.  I could

not swim the sea, nor yet fly in the air, but there was always

Andie.  I had done him a service, he liked me; I had a lever there

to work on; if it were just for decency, I must try once more with

Andie.



It was late afternoon; there was no sound in all the Bass but the

lap and bubble of a very quiet sea; and my four companions were all

crept apart, the three Macgregors higher on the rock, and Andie

with his Bible to a sunny place among the ruins; there I found him

in deep sleep, and, as soon as he was awake, appealed to him with

some fervour of manner and a good show of argument.



"If I thoucht it was to do guid to ye, Shaws!" said he, staring at

me over his spectacles.



"It's to save another," said I, "and to redeem my word.  What would

be more good than that?  Do ye no mind the scripture, Andie?  And

you with the Book upon your lap!  WHAT SHALL IT PROFIT A MAN IF HE

GAIN THE WHOLE WORLD?"



"Ay," said he, "that's grand for you.  But where do I come in!  I

have my word to redeem the same's yoursel'.  And what are ye asking

me to do, but just to sell it ye for siller?"



"Andie! have I named the name of siller?" cried I.



"Ou, the name's naething", said he; "the thing is there, whatever.

It just comes to this; if I am to service ye the way that you

propose, I'll lose my lifelihood.  Then it's clear ye'll have to

make it up to me, and a pickle mair, for your ain credit like.  And

what's that but just a bribe?  And if even I was certain of the

bribe!  But by a' that I can learn, it's far frae that; and if YOU

were to hang, where would _I_ be?  Na:  the thing's no possible.

And just awa' wi' ye like a bonny lad! and let Andie read his

chapter."



I remember I was at bottom a good deal gratified with this result;

and the next humour I fell into was one (I had near said) of

gratitude to Prestongrange, who had saved me, in this violent,

illegal manner, out of the midst of my dangers, temptations, and

perplexities.  But this was both too flimsy and too cowardly to

last me long, and the remembrance of James began to succeed to the

possession of my spirits.  The 21st, the day set for the trial, I

passed in such misery of mind as I can scarce recall to have

endured, save perhaps upon Isle Earraid only.  Much of the time I

lay on a brae-side betwixt sleep and waking, my body motionless, my

mind full of violent thoughts.  Sometimes I slept indeed; but the

court-house of Inverary and the prisoner glancing on all sides to

find his missing witness, followed me in slumber; and I would wake

again with a start to darkness of spirit and distress of body.  I

thought Andie seemed to observe me, but I paid him little heed.

Verily, my bread was bitter to me, and my days a burthen.



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 inconsequent 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 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 PREPARED 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 has 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 am 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 a 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 Hielandman 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 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, aboard and Andie carried

them to Rankeillor.  In about an hour he came 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 to 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 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 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 of the church with the dirty Duncan at my

tails, and finding a vacant place sat down.



"Thirteently, 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 hear or would not be heard; and I sat 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 Simon 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, and 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, then tore a half-leaf out of the Bible,

scrawled upon it with a pencil, and passed it with a whispered word

to his next neighbour.  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 in my presence was Charlie Stewart,

and he too began to pencil and hand about dispatches, 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 this 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 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.  'YE KEN MY FATE BY WHAT THE DUKE OF

ARGYLE HAS JUST SAID TO MR. MACINTOSH.'  O, it's been a scandal!





"The great Agyle 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 Campbells 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 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, gentleman, of clan animosity.  The hatred of the name which

I have the honour 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 redd 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 redd 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 Simon Fraser, whose testimony, if it could be obtained,

would prove certainly fatal to Argyle and to 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 aide, 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 have 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 my 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 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. Simon 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 not even an 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 to 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

Glasgow; 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 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 friendly sentiments, which are perfectly

genuine.  I have a respect for you, 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 lordships

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 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 someone would get in the words:

"And then you might have been satiated."  Many songs were made in

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 regard 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 Coulston'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, 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