"You deceive yourself, Mr Balfour," said Morton; "such circumstances of
facility of execution and escape have often attended the commission of
the most enormous crimes.--But it is not mine to judge you. I have not
forgotten that the way was opened to the former liberation of Scotland by
an act of violence which no man can justify,--the slaughter of Cumming by
the hand of Robert Bruce; and, therefore, condemning this action, as I do
and must, I am not unwilling to suppose that you may have motives
vindicating it in your own eyes, though not in mine, or in those of sober
reason. I only now mention it, because I desire you to understand, that I
join a cause supported by men engaged in open war, which it is proposed
to carry on according to the rules of civilized nations, without, in any
respect, approving of the act of violence which gave immediate rise to
it."

Balfour bit his lip, and with difficulty suppressed a violent answer. He
perceived, with disappointment, that, upon points of principle, his young
brother-in-arms possessed a clearness of judgment, and a firmness of
mind, which afforded but little hope of his being able to exert that
degree of influence over him which he had expected to possess. After a
moment's pause, however, he said, with coolness, "My conduct is open to
men and angels. The deed was not done in a corner; I am here in arms to
avow it, and care not where, or by whom, I am called on to do so; whether
in the council, the field of battle, the place of execution, or the day
of the last great trial. I will not now discuss it further with one who
is yet on the other side of the veil. But if you will cast in your lot
with us as a brother, come with me to the council, who are still sitting,
to arrange the future march of the army, and the means of improving our
victory."

Morton arose and followed him in silence; not greatly delighted with his
associate, and better satisfied with the general justice of the cause
which he had espoused, than either with the measures or the motives of
many of those who were embarked in it.


[Illustration: Abbotsford--295]







OLD MORTALITY

By Walter Scott


[Illustration: Titlepage]



VOLUME II.


[Illustration: Bookcover]


[Illustration: Spines]




CHAPTER I.

               And look how many Grecian tents do stand
               Hollow upon this plain--so many hollow factions.
                                        Troilus and Cressida.

In a hollow of the hill, about a quarter of a mile from the field of
battle, was a shepherd's hut; a miserable cottage, which, as the only
enclosed spot within a moderate distance, the leaders of the presbyterian
army had chosen for their council-house. Towards this spot Burley guided
Morton, who was surprised, as he approached it, at the multifarious
confusion of sounds which issued from its precincts. The calm and anxious
gravity which it might be supposed would have presided in councils held
on such important subjects, and at a period so critical, seemed to have
given place to discord wild, and loud uproar, which fell on the ear of
their new ally as an evil augury of their future measures. As they
approached the door, they found it open indeed, but choked up with the
bodies and heads of countrymen, who, though no members of the council,
felt no scruple in intruding themselves upon deliberations in which they
were so deeply interested. By expostulation, by threats, and even by some
degree of violence, Burley, the sternness of whose character maintained a
sort of superiority over these disorderly forces, compelled the intruders
to retire, and, introducing Morton into the cottage, secured the door
behind them against impertinent curiosity. At a less agitating moment,
the young man might have been entertained with the singular scene of
which he now found himself an auditor and a spectator.

The precincts of the gloomy and ruinous hut were enlightened partly by
some furze which blazed on the hearth, the smoke whereof, having no legal
vent, eddied around, and formed over the heads of the assembled council a
clouded canopy, as opake as their metaphysical theology, through which,
like stars through mist, were dimly seen to twinkle a few blinking
candles, or rather rushes dipped in tallow, the property of the poor
owner of the cottage, which were stuck to the walls by patches of wet
clay. This broken and dusky light showed many a countenance elated with
spiritual pride, or rendered dark by fierce enthusiasm; and some whose
anxious, wandering, and uncertain looks, showed they felt themselves
rashly embarked in a cause which they had neither courage nor conduct to
bring to a good issue, yet knew not how to abandon, for very shame. They
were, indeed, a doubtful and disunited body. The most active of their
number were those concerned with Burley in the death of the Primate, four
or five of whom had found their way to Loudon-hill, together with other
men of the same relentless and uncompromising zeal, who had, in various
ways, given desperate and unpardonable offence to the government.

With them were mingled their preachers, men who had spurned at the
indulgence offered by government, and preferred assembling their flocks
in the wilderness, to worshipping in temples built by human hands, if
their doing the latter should be construed to admit any right on the part
of their rulers to interfere with the supremacy of the Kirk. The other
class of counsellors were such gentlemen of small fortune, and
substantial farmers, as a sense of intolerable oppression had induced to
take arms and join the insurgents. These also had their clergymen with
them, and such divines, having many of them taken advantage of the
indulgence, were prepared to resist the measures of their more violent
brethren, who proposed a declaration in which they should give testimony
against the warrants and instructions for indulgence as sinful and
unlawful acts. This delicate question had been passed over in silence in
the first draught of the manifestos which they intended to publish, of
the reasons of their gathering in arms; but it had been stirred anew
during Balfour's absence, and, to his great vexation, he now found that
both parties had opened upon it in full cry, Macbriar, Kettledrummle, and
other teachers of the wanderers, being at the very spring-tide of
polemical discussion with Peter Poundtext, the indulged pastor of
Milnwood's parish, who, it seems, had e'en girded himself with a
broadsword, but, ere he was called upon to fight for the good cause of
presbytery in the field, was manfully defending his own dogmata in the
council. It was the din of this conflict, maintained chiefly between
Poundtext and Kettledrummle, together with the clamour of their
adherents, which had saluted Morton's ears upon approaching the cottage.
Indeed, as both the divines were men well gifted with words and lungs,
and each fierce, ardent, and intolerant in defence of his own doctrine,
prompt in the recollection of texts wherewith they battered each other
without mercy, and deeply impressed with the importance of the subject of
discussion, the noise of the debate betwixt them fell little short of
that which might have attended an actual bodily conflict.

Burley, scandalized at the disunion implied in this virulent strife of
tongues, interposed between the disputants, and, by some general remarks
on the unseasonableness of discord, a soothing address to the vanity of
each party, and the exertion of the authority which his services in that
day's victory entitled him to assume, at length succeeded in prevailing
upon them to adjourn farther discussion of the controversy. But although
Kettledrummle and Poundtext were thus for the time silenced, they
continued to eye each other like two dogs, who, having been separated by
the authority of their masters while fighting, have retreated, each
beneath the chair of his owner, still watching each other's motions, and
indicating, by occasional growls, by the erected bristles of the back and
ears, and by the red glance of the eye, that their discord is unappeased,
and that they only wait the first opportunity afforded by any general
movement or commotion in the company, to fly once more at each other's
throats.

Balfour took advantage of the momentary pause to present to the council
Mr Henry Morton of Milnwood, as one touched with a sense of the evils of
the times, and willing to peril goods and life in the precious cause for
which his father, the renowned Silas Morton, had given in his time a
soul-stirring testimony. Morton was instantly received with the right
hand of fellowship by his ancient pastor, Poundtext, and by those among
the insurgents who supported the more moderate principles. The others
muttered something about Erastianism, and reminded each other in
whispers, that Silas Morton, once a stout and worthy servant of the
Covenant, had been a backslider in the day when the resolutioners had led
the way in owning the authority of Charles Stewart, thereby making a gap
whereat the present tyrant was afterwards brought in, to the oppression
both of Kirk and country. They added, however, that, on this great day of
calling, they would not refuse society with any who should put hand to
the plough; and so Morton was installed in his office of leader and
counsellor, if not with the full approbation of his colleagues, at least
without any formal or avowed dissent. They proceeded, on Burley's motion,
to divide among themselves the command of the men who had assembled, and
whose numbers were daily increasing. In this partition, the insurgents of
Poundtext's parish and congregation were naturally placed under the
command of Morton; an arrangement mutually agreeable to both parties, as
he was recommended to their confidence, as well by his personal qualities
as his having been born among them.

When this task was accomplished, it became necessary to determine what
use was to be made of their victory. Morton's heart throbbed high when he
heard the Tower of Tillietudlem named as one of the most important
positions to be seized upon. It commanded, as we have often noticed, the
pass between the more wild and the more fertile country, and must
furnish, it was plausibly urged, a stronghold and place of rendezvous to
the cavaliers and malignants of the district, supposing the insurgents
were to march onward and leave it uninvested. This measure was
particularly urged as necessary by Poundtext and those of his immediate
followers, whose habitations and families might be exposed to great
severities, if this strong place were permitted to remain in possession
of the royalists.

"I opine," said Poundtext,--for, like the other divines of the period, he
had no hesitation in offering his advice upon military matters of which
he was profoundly ignorant,--"I opine, that we should take in and raze
that stronghold of the woman Lady Margaret Bellenden, even though we
should build a fort and raise a mount against it; for the race is a
rebellious and a bloody race, and their hand has been heavy on the
children of the Covenant, both in the former and the latter times. Their
hook hath been in our noses, and their bridle betwixt our jaws."

"What are their means and men of defence?" said Burley. "The place is
strong; but I cannot conceive that two women can make it good against a
host."

"There is also," said Poundtext, "Harrison the steward, and John Gudyill,
even the lady's chief butler, who boasteth himself a man of war from his
youth upward, and who spread the banner against the good cause with that
man of Belial, James Grahame of Montrose."

"Pshaw!" returned Burley, scornfully, "a butler!"

"Also, there is that ancient malignant," replied Poundtext, "Miles
Bellenden of Charnwood, whose hands have been dipped in the blood of the
saints."

"If that," said Burley, "be Miles Bellenden, the brother of Sir Arthur,
he is one whose sword will not turn back from battle; but he must now be
stricken in years."

"There was word in the country as I rode along," said another of the
council, "that so soon as they heard of the victory which has been given
to us, they caused shut the gates of the tower, and called in men, and
collected ammunition. They were ever a fierce and a malignant house."

"We will not, with my consent," said Burley, "engage in a siege which may
consume time. We must rush forward, and follow our advantage by occupying
Glasgow; for I do not fear that the troops we have this day beaten, even
with the assistance of my Lord Ross's regiment, will judge it safe to
await our coming."

"Howbeit," said Poundtext, "we may display a banner before the Tower, and
blow a trumpet, and summon them to come forth. It may be that they will
give over the place into our mercy, though they be a rebellious people.
And we will summon the women to come forth of their stronghold, that is,
Lady Margaret Bellenden and her grand-daughter, and Jenny Dennison, which
is a girl of an ensnaring eye, and the other maids, and we will give them
a safe conduct, and send them in peace to the city, even to the town of
Edinburgh. But John Gudyill, and Hugh Harrison, and Miles Bellenden, we
will restrain with fetters of iron, even as they, in times bypast, have
done to the martyred saints."

"Who talks of safe conduct and of peace?" said a shrill, broken, and
overstrained voice, from the crowd.

"Peace, brother Habakkuk," said Macbriar, in a soothing tone, to the
speaker.

"I will not hold my peace," reiterated the strange and unnatural voice;
"is this a time to speak of peace, when the earth quakes, and the
mountains are rent, and the rivers are changed into blood, and the
two-edged sword is drawn from the sheath to drink gore as if it were
water, and devour flesh as the fire devours dry stubble?"

While he spoke thus, the orator struggled forward to the inner part of
the circle, and presented to Morton's wondering eyes a figure worthy of
such a voice and such language. The rags of a dress which had once been
black, added to the tattered fragments of a shepherd's plaid, composed a
covering scarce fit for the purposes of decency, much less for those of
warmth or comfort. A long beard, as white as snow, hung down on his
breast, and mingled with bushy, uncombed, grizzled hair, which hung in
elf-locks around his wild and staring visage. The features seemed to be
extenuated by penury and famine, until they hardly retained the likeness
of a human aspect. The eyes, grey, wild, and wandering, evidently
betokened a bewildered imagination. He held in his hand a rusty sword,
clotted with blood, as were his long lean hands, which were garnished at
the extremity with nails like eagle's claws.

"In the name of Heaven! who is he?" said Morton, in a whisper to
Poundtext, surprised, shocked, and even startled, at this ghastly
apparition, which looked more like the resurrection of some cannibal
priest, or druid red from his human sacrifice, than like an earthly
mortal.

"It is Habakkuk Mucklewrath," answered Poundtext, in the same tone, "whom
the enemy have long detained in captivity in forts and castles, until his
understanding hath departed from him, and, as I fear, an evil demon hath
possessed him. Nevertheless, our violent brethren will have it, that he
speaketh of the spirit, and that they fructify by his pouring forth."

Here he was interrupted by Mucklewrath, who cried in a voice that made
the very beams of the roof quiver--"Who talks of peace and safe conduct?
who speaks of mercy to the bloody house of the malignants? I say take the
infants and dash them against the stones; take the daughters and the
mothers of the house and hurl them from the battlements of their trust,
that the dogs may fatten on their blood as they did on that of Jezabel,
the spouse of Ahab, and that their carcasses may be dung to the face of
the field even in the portion of their fathers!"

"He speaks right," said more than one sullen voice from behind; "we will
be honoured with little service in the great cause, if we already make
fair weather with Heaven's enemies."

"This is utter abomination and daring impiety," said Morton, unable to
contain his indignation.

"What blessing can you expect in a cause, in which you listen to the
mingled ravings of madness and atrocity?"

"Hush, young man!" said Kettledrummle, "and reserve thy censure for that
for which thou canst render a reason. It is not for thee to judge into
what vessels the spirit may be poured."

"We judge of the tree by the fruit," said Poundtext, "and allow not that
to be of divine inspiration that contradicts the divine laws."

"You forget, brother Poundtext," said Macbriar, "that these are the
latter days, when signs and wonders shall be multiplied."

Poundtext stood forward to reply; but, ere he could articulate a word,
the insane preacher broke in with a scream that drowned all competition.

"Who talks of signs and wonders? Am not I Habakkuk Mucklewrath, whose
name is changed to Magor-Missabib, because I am made a terror unto myself
and unto all that are around me?--I heard it--When did I hear it?--Was it
not in the Tower of the Bass, that overhangeth the wide wild sea?--And it
howled in the winds, and it roared in the billows, and it screamed, and
it whistled, and it clanged, with the screams and the clang and the
whistle of the sea-birds, as they floated, and flew, and dropped, and
dived, on the bosom of the waters. I saw it--Where did I see it?--Was it
not from the high peaks of Dunbarton, when I looked westward upon the
fertile land, and northward on the wild Highland hills; when the clouds
gathered and the tempest came, and the lightnings of heaven flashed in
sheets as wide as the banners of an host?--What did I see?--Dead corpses
and wounded horses, the rushing together of battle, and garments rolled
in blood.--What heard I?--The voice that cried, Slay, slay--smite--slay
utterly--let not your eye have pity! slay utterly, old and young, the
maiden, the child, and the woman whose head is grey--Defile the house and
fill the courts with the slain!"

"We receive the command," exclaimed more than one of the company. "Six
days he hath not spoken nor broken bread, and now his tongue is
unloosed:--We receive the command; as he hath said, so will we do."

Astonished, disgusted, and horror-struck, at what he had seen and heard,
Morton turned away from the circle and left the cottage. He was followed
by Burley, who had his eye on his motions.

"Whither are you going?" said the latter, taking him by the arm.

"Any where,--I care not whither; but here I will abide no longer."

"Art thou so soon weary, young man?" answered Burley. "Thy hand is but
now put to the plough, and wouldst thou already abandon it? Is this thy
adherence to the cause of thy father?"

"No cause," replied Morton, indignantly--"no cause can prosper, so
conducted. One party declares for the ravings of a bloodthirsty madman;
another leader is an old scholastic pedant; a third"--he stopped, and his
companion continued the sentence--"Is a desperate homicide, thou wouldst
say, like John Balfour of Burley?--I can bear thy misconstruction without
resentment. Thou dost not consider, that it is not men of sober and
self-seeking minds, who arise in these days of wrath to execute judgment
and to accomplish deliverance. Hadst thou but seen the armies of England,
during her Parliament of 1640, whose ranks were filled with sectaries and
enthusiasts, wilder than the anabaptists of Munster, thou wouldst have
had more cause to marvel; and yet these men were unconquered on the
field, and their hands wrought marvellous things for the liberties of the
land."

"But their affairs," replied Morton, "were wisely conducted, and the
violence of their zeal expended itself in their exhortations and sermons,
without bringing divisions into their counsels, or cruelty into their
conduct. I have often heard my father say so, and protest, that he
wondered at nothing so much as the contrast between the extravagance of
their religious tenets, and the wisdom and moderation with which they
conducted their civil and military affairs. But our councils seem all one
wild chaos of confusion."

"Thou must have patience, Henry Morton," answered Balfour; "thou must not
leave the cause of thy religion and country either for one wild word, or
one extravagant action. Hear me. I have already persuaded the wiser of
our friends, that the counsellors are too numerous, and that we cannot
expect that the Midianites shall, by so large a number, be delivered into
our hands. They have hearkened to my voice, and our assemblies will be
shortly reduced within such a number as can consult and act together; and
in them thou shalt have a free voice, as well as in ordering our affairs
of war, and protecting those to whom mercy should be shown--Art thou now
satisfied?"

"It will give me pleasure, doubtless," answered Morton, "to be the means
of softening the horrors of civil war; and I will not leave the post I
have taken, unless I see measures adopted at which my conscience revolts.
But to no bloody executions after quarter asked, or slaughter without
trial, will I lend countenance or sanction; and you may depend on my
opposing them, with both heart and hand, as constantly and resolutely, if
attempted by our own followers, as when they are the work of the enemy."

Balfour waved his hand impatiently.

"Thou wilt find," he said, "that the stubborn and hard-hearted generation
with whom we deal, must be chastised with scorpions ere their hearts be
humbled, and ere they accept the punishment of their iniquity. The word
is gone forth against them, 'I will bring a sword upon you that shall
avenge the quarrel of my Covenant.' But what is done shall be done
gravely, and with discretion, like that of the worthy James Melvin, who
executed judgment on the tyrant and oppressor, Cardinal Beaton."

"I own to you," replied Morton, "that I feel still more abhorrent at
cold-blooded and premeditated cruelty, than at that which is practised in
the heat of zeal and resentment."

"Thou art yet but a youth," replied Balfour, "and hast not learned how
light in the balance are a few drops of blood in comparison to the weight
and importance of this great national testimony. But be not afraid;
thyself shall vote and judge in these matters; it may be we shall see
little cause to strive together anent them."

With this concession Morton was compelled to be satisfied for the
present; and Burley left him, advising him to lie down and get some rest,
as the host would probably move in the morning.

"And you," answered Morton, "do not you go to rest also?"

"No," said Burley; "my eyes must not yet know slumber. This is no work to
be done lightly; I have yet to perfect the choosing of the committee of
leaders, and I will call you by times in the morning to be present at
their consultation."

He turned away, and left Morton to his repose.

The place in which he found himself was not ill adapted for the purpose,
being a sheltered nook, beneath a large rock, well protected from the
prevailing wind. A quantity of moss with which the ground was overspread,
made a couch soft enough for one who had suffered so much hardship and
anxiety. Morton wrapped himself in the horse-man's cloak which he had
still retained, stretched himself on the ground, and had not long
indulged in melancholy reflections on the state of the country, and upon
his own condition, ere he was relieved from them by deep and sound
slumber.

The rest of the army slept on the ground, dispersed in groups, which
chose their beds on the fields as they could best find shelter and
convenience. A few of the principal leaders held wakeful conference with
Burley on the state of their affairs, and some watchmen were appointed
who kept themselves on the alert by chanting psalms, or listening to the
exercises of the more gifted of their number.





CHAPTER II.

               Got with much ease--now merrily to horse.
                                             Henry IV. Part I.

With the first peep of day Henry awoke, and found the faithful Cuddie
standing beside him with a portmanteau in his hand.

"I hae been just putting your honour's things in readiness again ye were
waking," said Cuddie, "as is my duty, seeing ye hae been sae gude as to
tak me into your service."

"I take you into my service, Cuddie?" said Morton, "you must be
dreaming."

"Na, na, stir," answered Cuddie; "didna I say when I was tied on the
horse yonder, that if ever ye gat loose I would be your servant, and ye
didna say no? and if that isna hiring, I kenna what is. Ye gae me nae
arles, indeed, but ye had gien me eneugh before at Milnwood."

"Well, Cuddie, if you insist on taking the chance of my unprosperous
fortunes"--

"Ou ay, I'se warrant us a' prosper weel eneugh," answered Cuddie,
cheeringly, "an anes my auld mither was weel putten up. I hae begun the
campaigning trade at an end that is easy eneugh to learn."

"Pillaging, I suppose?" said Morton, "for how else could you come by that
portmanteau?"

"I wotna if it's pillaging, or how ye ca't," said Cuddie, "but it comes
natural to a body, and it's a profitable trade. Our folk had tirled the
dead dragoons as bare as bawbees before we were loose amaist.--But when I
saw the Whigs a' weel yokit by the lugs to Kettledrummle and the other
chield, I set off at the lang trot on my ain errand and your honour's.
Sae I took up the syke a wee bit, away to the right, where I saw the
marks o'mony a horsefoot, and sure eneugh I cam to a place where there
had been some clean leatherin', and a' the puir chields were lying there
buskit wi' their claes just as they had put them on that morning--naebody
had found out that pose o' carcages--and wha suld be in the midst thereof
(as my mither says) but our auld acquaintance, Sergeant Bothwell?"

"Ay, has that man fallen?" said Morton.

"Troth has he," answered Cuddie; "and his een were open and his brow
bent, and his teeth clenched thegither, like the jaws of a trap for
foumarts when the spring's doun--I was amaist feared to look at him;
however, I thought to hae turn about wi' him, and sae I e'en riped his
pouches, as he had dune mony an honester man's; and here's your ain
siller again (or your uncle's, which is the same) that he got at Milnwood
that unlucky night that made us a' sodgers thegither."

"There can be no harm, Cuddie," said Morton, "in making use of this
money, since we know how he came by it; but you must divide with me."

"Bide a wee, bide a wee," said Cuddie. "Weel, and there's a bit ring he
had hinging in a black ribbon doun on his breast. I am thinking it has
been a love-token, puir fallow--there's naebody sae rough but they hae
aye a kind heart to the lasses--and there's a book wi'a wheen papers, and
I got twa or three odd things, that I'll keep to mysell, forby."

"Upon my word, you have made a very successful foray for a beginner,"
said his new master.

"Haena I e'en now?" said Cuddie, with great exultation. "I tauld ye I
wasna that dooms stupid, if it cam to lifting things.--And forby, I hae
gotten twa gude horse. A feckless loon of a Straven weaver, that has left
his loom and his bein house to sit skirling on a cauld hill-side, had
catched twa dragoon naigs, and he could neither gar them hup nor wind,
sae he took a gowd noble for them baith--I suld hae tried him wi' half
the siller, but it's an unco ill place to get change in--Ye'll find the
siller's missing out o' Bothwell's purse."

"You have made a most excellent and useful purchase, Cuddie; but what is
that portmanteau?"

"The pockmantle?" answered Cuddie, "it was Lord Evandale's yesterday, and
it's yours the day. I fand it ahint the bush o' broom yonder--ilka dog
has its day--Ye ken what the auld sang says,

          'Take turn about, mither, quo' Tam o' the Linn.'

"And, speaking o' that, I maun gang and see about my mither, puir auld
body, if your honour hasna ony immediate commands."

"But, Cuddie," said Morton, "I really cannot take these things from you
without some recompense."

"Hout fie, stir," answered Cuddie, "ye suld aye be taking,--for
recompense, ye may think about that some other time--I hae seen gay weel
to mysell wi' some things that fit me better. What could I do wi' Lord
Evandale's braw claes? Sergeant Bothwell's will serve me weel eneugh."

Not being able to prevail on the self-constituted and disinterested
follower to accept of any thing for himself out of these warlike spoils,
Morton resolved to take the first opportunity of returning Lord
Evandale's property, supposing him yet to be alive; and, in the
meanwhile, did not hesitate to avail himself of Cuddie's prize, so far as
to appropriate some changes of linen and other triffling articles amongst
those of more value which the portmanteau contained.

He then hastily looked over the papers which were found in Bothwell's
pocket-book. These were of a miscellaneous description. The roll of his
troop, with the names of those absent on furlough, memorandums of
tavern-bills, and lists of delinquents who might be made subjects of fine
and persecution, first presented themselves, along with a copy of a
warrant from the Privy Council to arrest certain persons of distinction
therein named. In another pocket of the book were one or two commissions
which Bothwell had held at different times, and certificates of his
services abroad, in which his courage and military talents were highly
praised. But the most remarkable paper was an accurate account of his
genealogy, with reference to many documents for establishment of its
authenticity; subjoined was a list of the ample possessions of the
forfeited Earls of Bothwell, and a particular account of the proportions
in which King James VI. had bestowed them on the courtiers and nobility
by whose descendants they were at present actually possessed; beneath
this list was written, in red letters, in the hand of the deceased, Haud
Immemor, F. S. E. B. the initials probably intimating Francis Stewart,
Earl of Bothwell. To these documents, which strongly painted the
character and feelings of their deceased proprietor, were added some
which showed him in a light greatly different from that in which we have
hitherto presented him to the reader.

In a secret pocket of the book, which Morton did not discover without
some trouble, were one or two letters, written in a beautiful female
hand. They were dated about twenty years back, bore no address, and were
subscribed only by initials. Without having time to peruse them
accurately, Morton perceived that they contained the elegant yet fond
expressions of female affection directed towards an object whose jealousy
they endeavoured to soothe, and of whose hasty, suspicious, and impatient
temper, the writer seemed gently to complain. The ink of these
manuscripts had faded by time, and, notwithstanding the great care which
had obviously been taken for their preservation, they were in one or two
places chafed so as to be illegible.

"It matters not," these words were written on the envelope of that which
had suffered most, "I have them by heart."

With these letters was a lock of hair wrapped in a copy of verses,
written obviously with a feeling, which atoned, in Morton's opinion, for
the roughness of the poetry, and the conceits with which it abounded,
according to the taste of the period:

Thy hue, dear pledge, is pure and bright, As in that well-remember'd
night, When first thy mystic braid was wove, And first my Agnes whisper'd
love. Since then, how often hast thou press'd The torrid zone of this
wild breast, Whose wrath and hate have sworn to dwell With the first sin
which peopled hell; A breast whose blood's a troubled ocean, Each throb
the earthquake's wild commotion!--O, if such clime thou canst endure, Yet
keep thy hue unstain'd and pure, What conquest o'er each erring thought
Of that fierce realm had Agnes wrought! I had not wander'd wild and wide,
With such an angel for my guide; Nor heaven nor earth could then reprove
me, If she had lived, and lived to love me. Not then this world's wild
joys had been To me one savage hunting-scene, My sole delight the
headlong race, And frantic hurry of the chase, To start, pursue, and
bring to bay, Rush in, drag down, and rend my prey, Then from the carcass
turn away; Mine ireful mood had sweetness tamed, And soothed each wound
which pride inflamed;--Yes, God and man might now approve me, If thou
hadst lived, and lived to love me!

As he finished reading these lines, Morton could not forbear reflecting
with compassion on the fate of this singular and most unhappy being, who,
it appeared, while in the lowest state of degradation, and almost of
contempt, had his recollections continually fixed on the high station to
which his birth seemed to entitle him; and, while plunged in gross
licentiousness, was in secret looking back with bitter remorse to the
period of his youth, during which he had nourished a virtuous, though
unfortunate attachment.

"Alas! what are we," said Morton, "that our best and most praiseworthy
feelings can be thus debased and depraved--that honourable pride can sink
into haughty and desperate indifference for general opinion, and the
sorrow of blighted affection inhabit the same bosom which license,
revenge, and rapine, have chosen for their citadel? But it is the same
throughout; the liberal principles of one man sink into cold and
unfeeling indifference, the religious zeal of another hurries him into
frantic and savage enthusiasm. Our resolutions, our passions, are like
the waves of the sea, and, without the aid of Him who formed the human
breast, we cannot say to its tides, 'Thus far shall ye come, and no
farther."'

While he thus moralized, he raised his eyes, and observed that Burley
stood before him.

"Already awake?" said that leader--"It is well, and shows zeal to tread
the path before you.--What papers are these?" he continued.

Morton gave him some brief account of Cuddie's successful marauding
party, and handed him the pocket-book of Bothwell, with its contents. The
Cameronian leader looked with some attention on such of the papers as
related to military affairs, or public business; but when he came to the
verses, he threw them from him with contempt.

"I little thought," he said, "when, by the blessing of God, I passed my
sword three times through the body of that arch tool of cruelty and
persecution, that a character so desperate and so dangerous could have
stooped to an art as trifling as it is profane. But I see that Satan can
blend the most different qualities in his well-beloved and chosen agents,
and that the same hand which can wield a club or a slaughter-weapon
against the godly in the valley of destruction, can touch a tinkling
lute, or a gittern, to soothe the ears of the dancing daughters of
perdition in their Vanity Fair."

"Your ideas of duty, then," said Morton, "exclude love of the fine arts,
which have been supposed in general to purify and to elevate the mind?"

"To me, young man," answered Burley, "and to those who think as I do, the
pleasures of this world, under whatever name disguised, are vanity, as
its grandeur and power are a snare. We have but one object on earth, and
that is to build up the temple of the Lord."

"I have heard my father observe," replied Morton, "that many who assumed
power in the name of Heaven, were as severe in its exercise, and as
unwilling to part with it, as if they had been solely moved by the
motives of worldly ambition--But of this another time. Have you succeeded
in obtaining a committee of the council to be nominated?"

"I have," answered Burley. "The number is limited to six, of which you
are one, and I come to call you to their deliberations."

Morton accompanied him to a sequestered grassplot, where their colleagues
awaited them. In this delegation of authority, the two principal factions
which divided the tumultuary army had each taken care to send three of
their own number. On the part of the Cameronians, were Burley, Macbriar,
and Kettledrummle; and on that of the moderate party, Poundtext, Henry
Morton, and a small proprietor, called the Laird of Langcale. Thus the
two parties were equally balanced by their representatives in the
committee of management, although it seemed likely that those of the most
violent opinions were, as is usual in such cases, to possess and exert
the greater degree of energy. Their debate, however, was conducted more
like men of this world than could have been expected from their conduct
on the preceding evening. After maturely considering their means and
situation, and the probable increase of their numbers, they agreed that
they would keep their position for that day, in order to refresh their
men, and give time to reinforcements to join them, and that, on the next
morning, they would direct their march towards Tillietudlem, and summon
that stronghold, as they expressed it, of malignancy. If it was not
surrendered to their summons, they resolved to try the effect of a brisk
assault; and, should that miscarry, it was settled that they should leave
a part of their number to blockade the place, and reduce it, if possible,
by famine, while their main body should march forward to drive
Claverhouse and Lord Ross from the town of Glasgow. Such was the
determination of the council of management; and thus Morton's first
enterprise in active life was likely to be the attack of a castle
belonging to the parent of his mistress, and defended by her relative,
Major Bellenden, to whom he personally owed many obligations! He felt
fully the embarrassment of his situation, yet consoled himself with the
reflection, that his newly-acquired power in the insurgent army would
give him, at all events, the means of extending to the inmates of
Tillietudlem a protection which no other circumstance could have afforded
them; and he was not without hope that he might be able to mediate such
an accommodation betwixt them and the presbyterian army, as should secure
them a safe neutrality during the war which was about to ensue.





CHAPTER III.

               There came a knight from the field of slain,
               His steed was drench'd in blood and rain.
                                             Finlay.

We must now return to the fortress of Tillietudlem and its inhabitants.
The morning, being the first after the battle of Loudon-hill, had dawned
upon its battlements, and the defenders had already resumed the labours
by which they proposed to render the place tenable, when the watchman,
who was placed in a high turret, called the Warder's Tower, gave the
signal that a horseman was approaching. As he came nearer, his dress
indicated an officer of the Life-Guards; and the slowness of his horse's
pace, as well as the manner in which the rider stooped on the saddle-bow,
plainly showed that he was sick or wounded. The wicket was instantly
opened to receive him, and Lord Evandale rode into the court-yard, so
reduced by loss of blood, that he was unable to dismount without
assistance. As he entered the hall, leaning upon a servant, the ladies
shrieked with surprise and terror; for, pale as death, stained with
blood, his regimentals soiled and torn, and his hair matted and
disordered, he resembled rather a spectre than a human being. But their
next exclamation was that of joy at his escape.

"Thank God!" exclaimed Lady Margaret, "that you are here, and have
escaped the hands of the bloodthirsty murderers who have cut off so many
of the king's loyal servants!"

"Thank God!" added Edith, "that you are here and in safety! We have
dreaded the worst. But you are wounded, and I fear we have little the
means of assisting you."

"My wounds are only sword-cuts," answered the young nobleman, as he
reposed himself on a seat; "the pain is not worth mentioning, and I
should not even feel exhausted but for the loss of blood. But it was not
my purpose to bring my weakness to add to your danger and distress, but
to relieve them, if possible. What can I do for you?--Permit me," he
added, addressing Lady Margaret--"permit me to think and act as your son,
my dear madam--as your brother, Edith!"

He pronounced the last part of the sentence with some emphasis, as if he
feared that the apprehension of his pretensions as a suitor might render
his proffered services unacceptable to Miss Bellenden. She was not
insensible to his delicacy, but there was no time for exchange of
sentiments.

"We are preparing for our defence," said the old lady with great dignity;
"my brother has taken charge of our garrison, and, by the grace of God,
we will give the rebels such a reception as they deserve."

"How gladly," said Evandale, "would I share in the defence of the Castle!
But in my present state, I should be but a burden to you, nay, something
worse; for, the knowledge that an officer of the Life-Guards was in the
Castle would be sufficient to make these rogues more desperately earnest
to possess themselves of it. If they find it defended only by the family,
they may possibly march on to Glasgow rather than hazard an assault."

"And can you think so meanly of us, my lord," said Edith, with the
generous burst of feeling which woman so often evinces, and which becomes
her so well, her voice faltering through eagerness, and her brow
colouring with the noble warmth which dictated her language--"Can you
think so meanly of your friends, as that they would permit such
considerations to interfere with their sheltering and protecting you at a
moment when you are unable to defend yourself, and when the whole country
is filled with the enemy? Is there a cottage in Scotland whose owners
would permit a valued friend to leave it in such circumstances? And can
you think we will allow you to go from a castle which we hold to be
strong enough for our own defence?"

"Lord Evandale need never think of it," said Lady Margaret. "I will dress
his wounds myself; it is all an old wife is fit for in war time; but to
quit the Castle of Tillietudlem when the sword of the enemy is drawn to
slay him,--the meanest trooper that ever wore the king's coat on his back
should not do so, much less my young Lord Evandale.--Ours is not a house
that ought to brook such dishonour. The tower of Tillietudlem has been
too much distinguished by the visit of his most sacred"--

Here she was interrupted by the entrance of the Major.

"We have taken a prisoner, my dear uncle," said Edith--"a wounded
prisoner, and he wants to escape from us. You must help us to keep him by
force."

"Lord Evandale!" exclaimed the veteran. "I am as much pleased as when I
got my first commission. Claverhouse reported you were killed, or missing
at least."

"I should have been slain, but for a friend of yours," said Lord
Evandale, speaking with some emotion, and bending his eyes on the ground,
as if he wished to avoid seeing the impression that what he was about to
say would make upon Miss Bellenden. "I was unhorsed and defenceless, and
the sword raised to dispatch me, when young Mr Morton, the prisoner for
whom you interested yourself yesterday morning, interposed in the most
generous manner, preserved my life, and furnished me with the means of
escaping."

As he ended the sentence, a painful curiosity overcame his first
resolution; he raised his eyes to Edith's face, and imagined he could
read in the glow of her cheek and the sparkle of her eye, joy at hearing
of her lover's safety and freedom, and triumph at his not having been
left last in the race of generosity. Such, indeed, were her feelings; but
they were also mingled with admiration of the ready frankness with which
Lord Evandale had hastened to bear witness to the merit of a favoured
rival, and to acknowledge an obligation which, in all probability, he
would rather have owed to any other individual in the world.

Major Bellenden, who would never have observed the emotions of either
party, even had they been much more markedly expressed, contented himself
with saying, "Since Henry Morton has influence with these rascals, I am
glad he has so exerted it; but I hope he will get clear of them as soon
as he can. Indeed, I cannot doubt it. I know his principles, and that he
detests their cant and hypocrisy. I have heard him laugh a thousand times
at the pedantry of that old presbyterian scoundrel, Poundtext, who, after
enjoying the indulgence of the government for so many years, has now,
upon the very first ruffle, shown himself in his own proper colours, and
set off, with three parts of his cropeared congregation, to join the host
of the fanatics.--But how did you escape after leaving the field, my
lord?"

"I rode for my life, as a recreant knight must," answered Lord Evandale,
smiling. "I took the route where I thought I had least chance of meeting
with any of the enemy, and I found shelter for several hours--you will
hardly guess where."

"At Castle Bracklan, perhaps," said Lady Margaret, "or in the house of
some other loyal gentleman?"

"No, madam. I was repulsed, under one mean pretext or another, from more
than one house of that description, for fear of the enemy following my
traces; but I found refuge in the cottage of a poor widow, whose husband
had been shot within these three months by a party of our corps, and
whose two sons are at this very moment with the insurgents."

"Indeed?" said Lady Margaret Bellenden; "and was a fanatic woman capable
of such generosity?--but she disapproved, I suppose, of the tenets of her
family?"

"Far from it, madam," continued the young nobleman; "she was in principle
a rigid recusant, but she saw my danger and distress, considered me as a
fellow-creature, and forgot that I was a cavalier and a soldier. She
bound my wounds, and permitted me to rest upon her bed, concealed me from
a party of the insurgents who were seeking for stragglers, supplied me
with food, and did not suffer me to leave my place of refuge until she
had learned that I had every chance of getting to this tower without
danger."

"It was nobly done," said Miss Bellenden; "and I trust you will have an
opportunity of rewarding her generosity."

"I am running up an arrear of obligation on all sides, Miss Bellenden,
during these unfortunate occurrences," replied Lord Evandale; "but when I
can attain the means of showing my gratitude, the will shall not be
wanting."

All now joined in pressing Lord Evandale to relinquish his intention of
leaving the Castle; but the argument of Major Bellenden proved the most
effectual.

"Your presence in the Castle will be most useful, if not absolutely
necessary, my lord, in order to maintain, by your authority, proper
discipline among the fellows whom Claverhouse has left in garrison here,
and who do not prove to be of the most orderly description of inmates;
and, indeed, we have the Colonel's authority, for that very purpose, to
detain any officer of his regiment who might pass this way."

"That," said Lord Evandale, "is an unanswerable argument, since it shows
me that my residence here may be useful, even in my present disabled
state."

"For your wounds, my lord," said the Major, "if my sister, Lady
Bellenden, will undertake to give battle to any feverish symptom, if such
should appear, I will answer that my old campaigner, Gideon Pike, shall
dress a flesh-wound with any of the incorporation of Barber-Surgeons. He
had enough of practice in Montrose's time, for we had few regularly-bred
army chirurgeons, as you may well suppose.--You agree to stay with us,
then?"

"My reasons for leaving the Castle," said Lord Evandale, glancing a look
towards Edith, "though they evidently seemed weighty, must needs give way
to those which infer the power of serving you. May I presume, Major, to
enquire into the means and plan of defence which you have prepared? or
can I attend you to examine the works?"

It did not escape Miss Bellenden, that Lord Evandale seemed much
exhausted both in body and mind. "I think, sir," she said, addressing the
Major, "that since Lord Evandale condescends to become an officer of our
garrison, you should begin by rendering him amenable to your authority,
and ordering him to his apartment, that he may take some refreshment ere
he enters on military discussions."

"Edith is right," said the old lady; "you must go instantly to bed, my
lord, and take some febrifuge, which I will prepare with my own hand; and
my lady-in-waiting, Mistress Martha Weddell, shall make some friar's
chicken, or something very light. I would not advise wine.--John Gudyill,
let the housekeeper make ready the chamber of dais. Lord Evandale must
lie down instantly. Pike will take off the dressings, and examine the
state of the wounds."

"These are melancholy preparations, madam," said Lord Evandale, as he
returned thanks to Lady Margaret, and was about to leave the hall,--"but
I must submit to your ladyship's directions; and I trust that your skill
will soon make me a more able defender of your castle than I am at
present. You must render my body serviceable as soon as you can, for you
have no use for my head while you have Major Bellenden."

With these words he left the apartment.

"An excellent young man, and a modest," said the Major.

"None of that conceit," said Lady Margaret, "that often makes young folk
suppose they know better how their complaints should be treated than
people that have had experience."

"And so generous and handsome a young nobleman," said Jenny Dennison, who
had entered during the latter part of this conversation, and was now left
alone with her mistress in the hall, the Major returning to his military
cares, and Lady Margaret to her medical preparations.

Edith only answered these encomiums with a sigh; but, although silent,
she felt and knew better than any one how much they were merited by the
person on whom they were bestowed. Jenny, however, failed not to follow
up her blow.

"After a', it's true that my lady says--there's nae trusting a
presbyterian; they are a' faithless man-sworn louns. Whae wad hae thought
that young Milnwood and Cuddie Headrigg wad hae taen on wi' thae rebel
blackguards?"